Part 4 (1/2)
”Let Y'Nor learn you said that and you'll be in a fix I can't help you out of.”
”Should a Vogarian care?” But the jeering was gone as she said, ”When you gave my pistol back to me--I thought it was a trick of some kind.”
”I told you I wasn't your enemy.”
”I know ... but it's hard for a Saint to believe any Vogarian could ever be anything else.”
”It doesn't seem to be very hard for the girls in the plant,” he observed glumly.
”Oh ... that's different.” She made a gesture of light dismissal.
”Those soldiers and technicians are good boys at heart--they haven't been brain-washed like you officers.”
”That's interesting to know, I'm sure. I suppose--”
He stopped as a gray-haired woman came and set down a tray containing a sandwich and a mug. From the foamy top of the mug came the unmistakable aroma of beer.
”Do you Saints _drink_?” he asked incredulously.
”Sure. Why?”
”But your church--”
”Earth churches used to ban alcohol as sinful because it would cause a mean person to show his true character. My church is more sensible and works to change the person's character, instead.”
[Ill.u.s.tration]
She took a bite of the sandwich. ”Cliff bear steak--it and beer go perfectly together. Shall I order you some?”
”No,” he said, thinking of Y'Nor's fury if Y'Nor should learn he had had a friendly lunch with a native girl. ”About your church--what kind of a church is it, anyway?”
”What its name implies. Heaven isn't for sale at the pulpit--everybody has to qualify for it by his own actions. We have to practice our belief--just looking pious and saying that we believe doesn't count.”
He revised his opinion of the Saints, then asked, ”But were you practicing your Golden Rule when you came to this town with a gun to shoot Vogarians?”
”For Vogarians we have a special Golden Rule that reads: _Do unto Vogarians as they have come to do unto you._ And you came here to enslave or kill us--remember?”
It could not be denied. When he did not answer she smiled at him; a smile surprisingly gentle and understanding.
”You honestly would like to be our friend, wouldn't you? The State psychiatrists didn't do a good job of brainwas.h.i.+ng you, after all.”
It was the first time since he was sixteen that anyone had spoken to him with genuine kindness. It gave him a strange feeling, a lonely sense of something rising up out of the past to mock him, and he changed the subject:
”Are the Azure Mountains the edge of your frontier?”
She nodded. ”Beyond is the Emerald Plain, a great, wide plain, and beyond it are mountain ranges that have never been named or explored.
I'm going into them some day and--”