rival wouldn't take kindly toit at all. He might resent the god's behavior. And what happened whenthese people didn't like the way a god behaved? Why, they struck hishead off.
The god might act first, of course. The young man wouldn't stand achance against him if he used his gun. In fact, Bradley could blast theother man unobserved, make him disappear into vapor, without leaving anytraces of how he died. That was murder, but if a god couldn't get awaywith murder, what sort of god was he? A pretty poor, cheap sort indeed.Yes, he could make his own rules.
And he could go on, maintaining his godhood by little murders of thatsort, and other deadly miracles, until they hated him more than theyloved him. That would follow inevitably. And then, when they all hatedhim, not even his gun would save him. Then--
"You're a liar," he told himself fiercely. "That isn't the thing you'reafraid of. Your weakness is that you don't have a murderous nature. Youcould kill one or two of them and get away with it, and you'd be able tocontrol yourself and kill no more. That time you hit the man over thehead, you didn't intend to kill him either. You were more frightened, atfirst, anyway, by the thought that you might have killed him, than bythe danger of being caught. You were overjoyed when he lived.
"You hate to kill, that's your trouble. You've had a sense ofresponsibility all along, but it never had a chance to develop. Now it'sdeveloped. You feel responsible for these people, for Aoooya and for therest of them. That's why you can't take advantage of them. You've beenposing as a rebel all your life, and you're just a respectable,law-abiding citizen at heart."
He winced at the thought. His own society had never accepted him at hisown valuation. This one took him for a much greater being than he tookhimself, and there seemed to be nothing to do but to live up to what hewas expected to be.
* * * * *
All the same, Aoooya continued to be a tempting morsel, and sooner orlater, he feared, he would not be able to resist her. And then theplanet itself provided a diversion.
They had never seen such a thing and had no idea of what it presaged,but he knew. He had heard of it on Earth and on Venus, and he had seenit on other planets where the rock formations had not yet settled down.A little hollow appeared first in the ground, and then the hollow waspushed out and suddenly blown into the air. Steam whistled through thenewly made vent, a shower of steam and hot dust and red hot fragments ofrock. Slowly the vent grew, until the cloud from the terrifying geyserdarkened the sky and spread panic through the tribe.
He knew what would happen next. They were running around in terror, butnot for one moment was he himself in doubt. He donned his complete spacesuit, in order to impress them the more, then stalked into the middle ofthem, and said, "Pick up all your possessions and follow me."
They stared at him, and he showed them what he meant by picking up thebelongings of one household in his gloved hands, and handing them to awaiting woman. Then, when they had grasped the idea and were gatheringall they owned, he led them toward the safety of the trees. Five minutesafter they had set off, the lava began to flow from the new-bornvolcano, scorching the ground for a hundred yards around, sparks smokingand smoldering in the treetops.
The head start he had given them was enough to help them escape theresultant forest fire. All that day they traveled, until finally theycame to a forest which couldn't burn, and here they rested. And herethey settled down to build their lives anew.
It must have been a comfort to know that a god had led them to safetyand was helping them make the new start. Bradley helped them with hisgun, which blasted dangerous beasts, and even more with his slightlysuperior knowledge. He showed them how to fashion tools from stone andhow to use these to build better huts. He taught them how to make swordsand other weapons, so that henceforth they wouldn't be forced to relyfor defense on poison alone. He was the most industrious god sinceVulcan. And in helping them he found that he had no time for Aoooya.
Came the day when the new village settled down to its changed routine oflife. The morning ceremony before his new shrine had just beencompleted, but Bradley was not satisfied. Something was wrong. Yanyoo'sdemeanor, Aoooya's--
With a shock, Bradley realized what it was. From old Yanyoo down theline, none of the natives seemed to have their original fear of him.There was respect, there was affection, certainly, but the respect andaffection were those due an older brother rather than a god.
And he was not displeased. Being a god had been a wearying business.Being a friend might be a great deal more pleasant. Yes, the change wassomething to be happy about.
* * * * *
But he had little time to be happy. For that same morning, there camewhat he had so long dreaded. Out of a clear, shipless sky, Malevskiappeared, strolling toward him as casually as if he had been there allalong, and said, "Nice little ceremony you have here."
"Hello, Malevski. Don't give me the credit. They thought it up."
"Ingenious. Almost as ingenious as the way they've used the help yougave them. We had this tribe listed long ago as a very capable one, farbehind the rest of its System in development, it's true, but onlybecause it had started late up the evolutionary ladder. It had beendoing very nicely on its own, and we didn't want to interfere unless wecould give it some real help.
"I'll admit that I had a few qualms at first, when we traced you hereand learned that you had landed among them. But we've been observing youfor the past day and a half--our space ship landed beyond that burnedout stretch of ground, not too close to that volcano--and I'll have toadmit that, judging from your past record, I didn't think you had it inyou."
"I suppose that's over with now," said Bradley.
"Yes, you're finished with being a god. We don't believe in kidding thenatives, Bradley!"
Bradley nodded ruefully. "They don't seem to believe in it, either. Iguess they found out I wasn't a god before I did. But it didn't seem tomatter to them." He sighed, and turned toward the new village. "Do youmind, if I sort of--well, hold a farewell ceremony before we go? Theywon't understand, but they'll feel better than if I just go off...."
Malevski shook his head firmly. "No, no time for that. I'll have to getout a full report, and we're in a hurry to get off. Any word you'd liketo have sent out to your mother, Bradley, before we blast?"
* * * * *
Bradley looked back again, and his shoulders came up more firmly. He'dtaught his people here, and led them; but he'd learned a few thingshimself--he'd found he could take what was necessary. He'd found thatthe easiest way wasn't always the best, that getting drunk was no wayout, and that real friendship and respect meant more than the words ofbig-shots. Maybe he'd learned enough to be able to take regeneration....
He managed to grin, a little lopsidedly, at Malevski. "Yeah. You mightsend her a message. Tell her I'm fine, and that I've learned to wipe myown nose. I think she'll be glad to hear that."
"She will," Malevski told him. "When she hears that you're ProvisionalGovernor of this planet, she'll even believe it."
"Provisional Governor?" Bradley stood with his mouth open, staring. Heshook his head. "But what about regeneration...?"
Malevski laughed. "You're appointed, on the basis of my first reportabout what you're doing here, Bradley," he answered. "As to regeneration... well, you think about it, while we bring in the supplies we'resupposed to leave for you, before we blast out of here."
He went off, chuckling, towards his ship, leaving Bradley to puzzle overit.
Then, just as Malevski disappeared, he understood. Damn it, they'dtricked him! They'd left him here where he had to be a god and assumethe responsibilities of a god. And through that, he'd beenregenerated--completely, thoroughly regenerated!
Suddenly, he was chuckling as hard as Malevski as he swung around andwent back to face his former worshippers. And they were coming forwardto meet him, their friendly smiles matching his own.
Transcriber's Note
This etext was produced fro
m _Space Science Fiction_ 1953. Extensiveresearch did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on thispublication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors havebeen corrected without note.
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