They peered deep into the heart of the angry seas, witnessing the emergence of life itself. They saw the life and death of a myriad lowly creatures, the fantastic centuries of slaughter caused by the receding waters, the inevitable, blind, courageous conquest of the land.
They saw forest and desert, ice cap and tundra. They saw the great reptiles locked in titanic combat through their flickering sovereignty. They glimpsed monstrous leathery wings that seemed to sprout brilliant features in a single moment, transforming saw-toothed killers into veritable birds of paradise. They saw shaggy and ravenous beasts of the trees miraculously walking upright, seeking the tools and tribal unity that would lift their restless minds above and beyond the hungry, all-consuming darkness of prehistory.
They saw the birth of civilization, cities blossoming like strange stone flowers on plains and in valleys. They saw death and discovery, warfare and worship, plague, fire, flood, and famine. They witnessed the endless conflict of man against nature, the vital tragedy of man against man. The age of glory and the age of machines. And also the age of destruction, when darkness fell from the air. . ..
Then suddenly the walls of the vault clouded and became clear. The visual saga of creation dissolved into the depths of a green eternity.
And then there was a voice. The voice came from nowhere and yet it was everywhere, rolling through the vault like thunder, whispering like the wind through summer grass. It was neither the voice of a man nor that of a woman. It was simply a voice.
“To the living of the third planet from the dead of the fourth planet, greetings,” said the voice. “To the star children from the star children, greetings.
“This, our salute to you, bridges fifty thousand planetary journeys round the star that is our sun. But let these words be to you more than the echo of distant ghosts, for there is that which binds the third and fourth planets inseparably.
“In the pyramids we have built we bequeath to you the only possible gift—the story of our race. Once we of the fourth planet lived on a green and pleasant world. We were a race of leisure and wealth and power, having tamed for our needs the energies of the elements and the fantastic energies of the sun. We have even probed the secrets of life itself, so that immortality was ours. But you have seen the ultimate achievement of our greatness: it is nothing more than the barren desert and the pyramids in which our memory yet endures.
“It is true that we gained immortality; but the price we paid was too high, for in the end we became almost totally sterile. It is true also that we had at our command unlimited physical power. But our spiritual power was unequal to the challenge; and in quarrel over philosophies whose very defense by force indicated their weakness, we succeeded eventually in destroying both our race and the living richness of our planetary home. We had conquered the forces of nature, but we were defeated by the forces in our own hearts.
“Before all was lost, however, and in a brief period of sanity, we gathered together the few young and fertile people remaining to us. Determining that our race should not perish entirely in vain, we built transports to bridge the gap between the planets. And then our most precious possessions—our children—were carried to your world, their minds cleansed of the bleak wisdom and sophistication that had been our downfall.
‘‘There, in the forests of the third planet, we left them to endure all the slow anguish and adventure of a new spiritual and physical development in a new unsullied world.
“You who hear these words are their and our descendants. You have made yourselves the masters of unlimited physical power once more. We pray that, this time, your racial spirit, reforged in the fires of evolution, will prove equal to the challenge.
“We pray, also, that you will take this, the fourth planet, and in harmony of effort and unity of purpose, use your skills and energies to restore to it the green fertility that flourished long ago. You are truly our children and our future. . . . Welcome Home.”
There was silence and stillness. The two men looked at each other. The thoughts and feelings that possessed them were far beyond the scope of words. Presently they knelt down for a few moments as if the vault itself had become a temple, as if their quiet thanksgiving would somehow be heard. Then at last they turned back to the passage, slowly retracing their steps. . . .
Colonel Krenin and Commander Thrace were ten minutes overdue when they emerged from the pyramid.
Dr. Chee and Professor Thompson were set to explode their recent anxiety and present curiosity in a great blast of questions; but when they saw the expressions on the faces of the two silent men, all the questions died.
“We found the Answer,” said Commander Thrace at length.
“What answer?” asked Dr. Chee gently. His companions were so abnormally calm that they seemed to be suffering from shock.
“There is only one Answer,” said Colonel Krenin. “It is your turn now. Go, and you too will find it.”
“There is no hazard?” asked Professor Thompson. Colonel Krenin smiled. He seemed to be gazing at something many millions of miles away or—perhaps—many thousands of years ago. “Only to our pride,” he answered softly.
Thompson and Chee could make nothing of that; and as there was only one obvious thing to do, they too entered the passage, leaving the Colonel and the Commander to wait for them.
Presently, Commander Thrace said, “I have just remembered something. How could you possibly understand the Voice? He—It—was speaking in English.”
The Colonel shook his head. “No, Russian.”
The Commander thought for a moment. “Neither Russian nor English,” he said. Then he added, “After that, I think we shall never be quite the same men again.”
Colonel Krenin gazed out over the bleak Martian desert. “No, never the same,” he agreed. “Soon it will be Professor Frontenac’s turn, and after that we must set up the cameras and television relays. Then all the different peoples of Earth will never be the same again.”
Commander Thrace idly stirred the dry red sand with his feet. He made miniature mountains and valleys, and absently began to visualize a tiny network of roads.
At length he said, “Do you think we shall ever manage to reclaim this wilderness?”
“We have to,” said Colonel Krenin simply. “This is home.”
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