Hardy had been on Morne for barely two minutes, when he was almost killed by an alien.
Morne's technological development was erratic. He was forced to walk, unescorted, from the landing shuttle to the terminal buildings half a mile away - and he had to carry his own luggage. Still, it was a fine, clear day, the atmosphere was fresh and pleasantly scented. Hardy stepped out briskly, humming a Psalm under his breath.
He had covered half the distance when he became aware of a group of figures on the roof of the terminal. The taller ones would be the native Mornethi, he surmised. They were waving their arms wildly in his direction, and he became uneasy. Was this some local greeting ritual? If so, what was the proper response? He'd been rushed out here in such a panic that he'd missed the usual orientation. Suppose he gave offence by not giving the correct reply? Really, the local Alien Relations Office should be here to deal with this sort of thing.
Looking to the humans for guidance, Hardy was surprised to see that they were joining in with the ritual. They may have been shouting as well, but the breeze was blowing towards them, and he could not make out their words.
But as he strained his ears, he heard something else – the low pitched mutter of a gravitic motor.
Behind him.
He glanced casually over his shoulder, let out a shriek, and hurled himself to one side. A pressure wave flattened the vegetation where he had been standing, and something huge and black swept by. A sharp tingle from the residual gravitic field stung his feet.
Shock and the impact of the ground winded him. Gasping for breath, he struggled to his feet, and watched the dark shape carrying on its way, indifferent to the near miss.
What, he wondered angrily, was the local word for road-hog? Or lunatic?
As he stared at the receding object, however, he began to wonder if it had a driver at all. There was no sign of one - but who would programme an automatic to such dangerous behaviour? It was, he noted, about fifteen feet long, five wide, and was doing a steady twenty m.p.h, a foot above the ground. It looked like no vehicle he’d ever seen before, and he had had twenty years of experience in transportation systems.
In fact, the description that sprang to mind was a giant flying coffin. But that was ridiculous.
"Er - are you alright? Sir?" The speaker, a young women in the uniform of Alien Relations, was short of breath, havingrun out from the terminal. "Bit close that, Sir. You have to watch out for them here."
"Obviously. But what was it? Was someone in that thing?"
"Yes, sir. A Mornethi."
"But why didn't he see me?"
The Alien Relations Officer looked surprised. "See you? But - sir, he's dead!"
**********
The interview with the Senior Planetary Officer, Alien Relations, Morne, did not go well.
"Poor start, Hardy. Very poor." Senior Planetary Officer Cobb was a man on the verge of retirement, Hardy judged. Morne was his last assignment, and he didn't want anything to spoil it for him. Or to put his pension at risk.
"My apologies, sir." Hardy was from the Transport Systems Office, not Alien Relations, and strictly speaking didn't have to call Cobb `sir'. But he judged it wise to be diplomatic.
"Have to watch out for the coffins. Not good to interfere with them, Hardy! Natives take it badly."
Hardy thought of pointing out that he himself would have taken it quite badly had the flying coffin interfered with him. But it was probably better to let the matter go.
"I understand from Junior Officer Kotu that the coffins are the reason I'm here?"
"Of course! Weren't you briefed?"
"No sir. They only told me that they needed a Traffic Systems expert in a hurry. I was given to understand that the problem would be explained here."
"Humm." Cobb settled behind his desk. "Well then. Might as well tell you about it. Ah - did you see much of the planet as you came in?"
"Some. Basically one large continent, isn't it?"
"Right. Some low mountain ranges, one large sea - and the rest of the surface area is all plain. The Mornethi, the natives that is, all live on that plain. They're nomads. Always travelling. It's not just a cultural thing. It's psychological. Keep a Mornethi in one place for more than a few weeks and he'll go crazy. They have to travel."
Hardy started to see where this was going. "Even the dead ones?"
Cobb nodded. "Right. It's ingrained into their religion, you see, this idea of the endless journey. As long as a Mornethi is travelling - they're not really dead. That's the idea. Damm load of nonsense - but that's religion for you!" Cobb snorted, then gave Hardy a sideways sort of look. "Not, ah, religious yourself, eh?"
It would have been politic to say no, but on some issues Hardy refused to be politic. "I'm a lay member of the Revived Celtic Church." He answered, trying to sound casual and matter of fact.
There was a short, embarrassed silence. "Hmm. Well. Point is, the Mornethi have always had this custom of sending their dead off on a final journey. A never-ending journey, in theory. In the old days, before we discovered the planet, that meant loading them onto a cart, with a couple of duugha to pull it, and off they went. Eventually, the duugha would die or escape, the cart would rot and fall apart, the bodys would be taken by scavengers - but in theory, they were still on their journey."
Cobb sighed. "Then we discovered them. And they, ah, got hold of gravitics."
"Which they fitted to the coffins."
"Exactly. Solar driven gravitic units, no moving parts: plastic sheathed iron coffins: the dead of Morne can go on a final voyage of centuries now. And they do. All of them. The Mornethi have put every resource they could beg or buy into setting up an automated factory to produce gravitic coffins. Thousands of them every week. Every dead Mornethi is guaranteed' his or her place on the endless journey."
"So as fast as they die, they're put into one of these perpetual motion coffins, and sent on their way? I see why you sent for me. You have a traffic problem."
**********
The Morne day was twenty eight hours long. However, acclimatisation was not a problem for Hardy. Under the pressure of Cobbs Priority One work order, he worked until he dropped, slept at his desk, and worked again. The problem was serious: already the hordes of wandering coffins were causing serious disruptions to the lifestyle of the Mornethi, as narrow passes in the mountains became blocked. The computer readouts warned of major ecological damage in the long term: eventually, the whole planet could become one vast traffic jam of dead Mornethi. Leaving no room for the living. Yet the Mornethi elders would not consider changing their practices.
"It's their religion." explained Kotu. She was on permanent assignment as Hardy’s assistant. "They understand the problem, but they can't consider depriving their dead of the Journey."
"It would help if they'd except some stricter parameters for the coffins." Hardy stifled a yawn, and took another sip of coffee. "If I could stream the traffic flows a bit more tightly, maybe restrict the random course changes.... “
Kotu shook her head. "It's all we could do to persuade them to allow even basic restrictions. It's a desecration to interfere with the freedom of the Journey."
"Then I've done all I can. These programmes - " he indicated a stack of datachips "- aren't designed for this situation. I've tweaked them around as best I can, but we can only expect an extra ten years before the critical limit is reached."
"The SPO was expecting more than that."
"I know. But what can I do? I'm a Traffic Systems expert. This is a problem for an Alien Psychologist! At best, I could only give you more time. Unless there's a fundamental change in the situation, the results are going to be the same."
Hardy was silent for a moment, contemplating the future. "And when it does, a lot of heads will roll. Earth will be accused of genocide, since it was we who introduced gravitics to the Mornethi. Topaz will make a lot of capital out of that, so will the Solven. It's going to be a real mess, Kotu."
"Yes, I know. SPO Cobb was very worried about it - he was hardly sleeping until you..." she broke off suddenly.
"Until I..." Hardy stared at her, suspicion dawning. "Until I came? Kotu?"
She refused to look at him. Turned away and stared out of the window, watched a pair of coffins drifting by on opposite courses. Their automatics kept them from collision, though they ignored people. A small group of Mornethi were passing in the distance: tall and graceful, their duugah-leather cloaks swirling behind them. They stared curiously at the Terran base buildings, kept a wary eye on their flying ancestors.
Hardy came and stood beside her. "Was Cobb in charge when the Mornethi were given gravitics?"
"Yes." Kotu glanced round at him, looked away again. "The automated factory - it was his idea, his project. A gift from Earth. Good for relations with the Mornethi. He didn't realise what they would do with it."
"What? He didn't realise... I thought Alien Relations Officers were trained to understand the culture, estimate the effects of intervention?"
“Yes, thats right. Well, Field officers have that training. Normally."
"What are you telling me, Kotu? Cobb's not a field officer?"
She was blushing, he noticed. Embarrassed. "I shouldn't be telling you. It's - an internal matter."
"I appreciate that. But I am involved, you know."
"Yes. I suppose so." She talk a deep breath, turned to face him. "It's nothing I know for certain, you understand. But the rumour is that the SPO served most of his time on Earth, at HQ."
"Ah. Admin?"
"Office supplies."
"Marvellous. So how did he end up out here? No, don't tell me. The pension's higher for a man retiring from a Field posting, isn't it? And after a career at HQ, Mr Cobb knew all the strings to pull, didn't he? Am I right, Kotu?"
She nodded miserably. "It's only rumour, though."
"Oh, certainly. But I'd say that the evidence backs it up. Cobb's made real mess here - and now I know why he sent for a Traffic Systems expert."
"Sir?"
"Have you ever heard the definition of an expert? It's someone who's brought in at the last moment to take the blame! That's it, isn't it? Cobb couldn’t come up with a solution. He wasn't about to wreck his career by admitting his mistake. So he redefines it as a traffic problem, and calls in a traffic expert. Then, when it all turns to duugha droppings, the fault's mine. I can see why he's stopped worrying!"
"I'm sorry. I know how you must feel about it. I suppose I should have told you sooner."
Hardy nodded. "I don't blame you. I know what it's like to be a Junior Officer, caught in the middle. But in any case, the real problem isn't who gets the blame. The problem is what's going to happen to the Mornethi - and how can we stop it?"
Kotu shrugged. "We can't. We've tried everything."
"How about a return to tradition? Back to the duugha carts?"
"We suggested it. Nearly had a riot. None of the Morenthi will accept second best for their dead relatives, or themselves."
Hardy thought for a while. "I don't suppose they'd consider putting the coffins in orbit, or just sending them off into deep space?"
"We suggested that as well. But the Mornethi are still a primitive people. They don't really understand space. The idea of sending them away from their home forever - it was beyond them, and unacceptable. The Journey, you see, is not like our journeys. We go from place to place: from home, or to home... but for them the Journey is home, home is the Journey. But it take's place in the familiar context of the plains, the known world. They have no concept of travelling in a totally alien environment." She laughed, sadly. "Poor people. I think they're afraid that the souls of the dead would be lost for ever."
Hardy nodded. "But that's the real problem, isn't it. A religious one. Tell me, Kotu, has any one tried to approach this from a religious point of view?"
She gave him a puzzled look. "Well, I suppose so - I mean, the socio-religious structure has been studied, of course..."
"Can you get me a copy of that study? And set up a meeting with the Mornethi elders?"
"That's not supposed to happen without the SPO's permission."
"I don't feel much like asking Mr Cobbs permission, Kotu. Can you do it?"
She smiled suddenly. "Yes, I think I can."
**********
Just one week after his ignominious arrival, Hardy was once more walking across the spaceport field. Only this time he was heading towards the landing shuttle, and this time he kept a wary eye open for coffins. A few were drifting about in the distance, but none were coming his way. His eyes fell on a new structure being erected at the far side of the field.
"That's it?" He asked.
"That's it." Kotu confirmed. Senior Officer Cobb had not come to see him off. Hardy was not surprised, and in any case preferred Kotu's company.
"Do you feel proud?" She asked him. "Not many people can claim to have saved a whole world!"
"More relieved than proud!" he admitted. "When will it go into operation?"
"Another month, local time. There’s been some small problems adapting the factory made gravitics to the new spec, but nothing the technicians can't sort out. The real trick was getting the Mornethi to agree to it. I'm afraid the SPO's furious with you for succeeding where he failed - even though you've saved his career as well."
"He wasn't likely to be able to communicate effectively. He dismissed their whole religious system as nonsense, yet it's the basis for their whole way of thinking. He failed to appreciate that a religion, bizarre though it may appear from the outside, has it's own internal logic, deriving from it's basic premises. If you want to get your message across you have to understand that, and fit in with the logic system. If Cobb had taken the trouble to do that much, he would never have caused the situation in the first place."
"So you've told me. But what was it exactly, that made the difference?"
Hardy paused, looking at the half-built gravitic coffin launcher. A small nomad encampment had sprung up nearby. It looked like becoming something of a holy place to the Mornethi.
"The local concept of God is actually quite a sophisticated one." He explained. "To them, God is everywhere, constantly present - very much as in Christian theology, in fact: but we sometimes struggle with the concept. We tend to think of God as being `somewhere' - Heaven, perhaps. But they don't think in terms of settled structures for themselves, so naturally they don't see God in one. In that, they have a advantage over us."
"I don't suppose the SPO would see it that way." Kotu said dryly.
"No." Hardy agreed. "Which was just the problem. For the Mornethi, life is an endless journey through God's...presence, I suppose. The exact concept doesn't come across in English. But point is, they see death as a continuation of that journey. When Cobb tried to persuade them to send their dead into space, he talked about it purely in practical, scientific terms. Made no mention of God at all. Perfectly reasonable, from his point of view. But to people with a well developed theology, but very little cosmology - it caused an unfortunate misconception. They thought that he was telling them to send their dead away from God. To cast them out from His presence, as it were."
"Like - going to Hell?"
"Exactly. Which they would not consider, not even to save themselves. Well, how could they?"
"And you..."
"Once I understood the problem, it was fairly simple to deal with. Just a matter of helping them to expand their concept of God: not just God of one planet, but of the whole Universe."
"You must have preached a good sermon!"
Hardy laughed. "One of my best - or at least, one of my most effective! But in fact, it wasn't that difficult. They were as aware of the problem as we were. Once they saw what I was driving at, the Elders were only to glad to pick up the idea. In fact, they've developed it further. Death is now the opportunity for a greater Journey-In-God than is possible in life. It's being preached all over Morne."
They stood by the landing shuttle and looked across the field. Several more coffins had drifted in. The Dead of Morne were gathering for their eternal pilgrimage.
Morne's technological development was erratic. He was forced to walk, unescorted, from the landing shuttle to the terminal buildings half a mile away - and he had to carry his own luggage. Still, it was a fine, clear day, the atmosphere was fresh and pleasantly scented. Hardy stepped out briskly, humming a Psalm under his breath.
He had covered half the distance when he became aware of a group of figures on the roof of the terminal. The taller ones would be the native Mornethi, he surmised. They were waving their arms wildly in his direction, and he became uneasy. Was this some local greeting ritual? If so, what was the proper response? He'd been rushed out here in such a panic that he'd missed the usual orientation. Suppose he gave offence by not giving the correct reply? Really, the local Alien Relations Office should be here to deal with this sort of thing.
Looking to the humans for guidance, Hardy was surprised to see that they were joining in with the ritual. They may have been shouting as well, but the breeze was blowing towards them, and he could not make out their words.
But as he strained his ears, he heard something else – the low pitched mutter of a gravitic motor.
Behind him.
He glanced casually over his shoulder, let out a shriek, and hurled himself to one side. A pressure wave flattened the vegetation where he had been standing, and something huge and black swept by. A sharp tingle from the residual gravitic field stung his feet.
Shock and the impact of the ground winded him. Gasping for breath, he struggled to his feet, and watched the dark shape carrying on its way, indifferent to the near miss.
What, he wondered angrily, was the local word for road-hog? Or lunatic?
As he stared at the receding object, however, he began to wonder if it had a driver at all. There was no sign of one - but who would programme an automatic to such dangerous behaviour? It was, he noted, about fifteen feet long, five wide, and was doing a steady twenty m.p.h, a foot above the ground. It looked like no vehicle he’d ever seen before, and he had had twenty years of experience in transportation systems.
In fact, the description that sprang to mind was a giant flying coffin. But that was ridiculous.
"Er - are you alright? Sir?" The speaker, a young women in the uniform of Alien Relations, was short of breath, havingrun out from the terminal. "Bit close that, Sir. You have to watch out for them here."
"Obviously. But what was it? Was someone in that thing?"
"Yes, sir. A Mornethi."
"But why didn't he see me?"
The Alien Relations Officer looked surprised. "See you? But - sir, he's dead!"
**********
The interview with the Senior Planetary Officer, Alien Relations, Morne, did not go well.
"Poor start, Hardy. Very poor." Senior Planetary Officer Cobb was a man on the verge of retirement, Hardy judged. Morne was his last assignment, and he didn't want anything to spoil it for him. Or to put his pension at risk.
"My apologies, sir." Hardy was from the Transport Systems Office, not Alien Relations, and strictly speaking didn't have to call Cobb `sir'. But he judged it wise to be diplomatic.
"Have to watch out for the coffins. Not good to interfere with them, Hardy! Natives take it badly."
Hardy thought of pointing out that he himself would have taken it quite badly had the flying coffin interfered with him. But it was probably better to let the matter go.
"I understand from Junior Officer Kotu that the coffins are the reason I'm here?"
"Of course! Weren't you briefed?"
"No sir. They only told me that they needed a Traffic Systems expert in a hurry. I was given to understand that the problem would be explained here."
"Humm." Cobb settled behind his desk. "Well then. Might as well tell you about it. Ah - did you see much of the planet as you came in?"
"Some. Basically one large continent, isn't it?"
"Right. Some low mountain ranges, one large sea - and the rest of the surface area is all plain. The Mornethi, the natives that is, all live on that plain. They're nomads. Always travelling. It's not just a cultural thing. It's psychological. Keep a Mornethi in one place for more than a few weeks and he'll go crazy. They have to travel."
Hardy started to see where this was going. "Even the dead ones?"
Cobb nodded. "Right. It's ingrained into their religion, you see, this idea of the endless journey. As long as a Mornethi is travelling - they're not really dead. That's the idea. Damm load of nonsense - but that's religion for you!" Cobb snorted, then gave Hardy a sideways sort of look. "Not, ah, religious yourself, eh?"
It would have been politic to say no, but on some issues Hardy refused to be politic. "I'm a lay member of the Revived Celtic Church." He answered, trying to sound casual and matter of fact.
There was a short, embarrassed silence. "Hmm. Well. Point is, the Mornethi have always had this custom of sending their dead off on a final journey. A never-ending journey, in theory. In the old days, before we discovered the planet, that meant loading them onto a cart, with a couple of duugha to pull it, and off they went. Eventually, the duugha would die or escape, the cart would rot and fall apart, the bodys would be taken by scavengers - but in theory, they were still on their journey."
Cobb sighed. "Then we discovered them. And they, ah, got hold of gravitics."
"Which they fitted to the coffins."
"Exactly. Solar driven gravitic units, no moving parts: plastic sheathed iron coffins: the dead of Morne can go on a final voyage of centuries now. And they do. All of them. The Mornethi have put every resource they could beg or buy into setting up an automated factory to produce gravitic coffins. Thousands of them every week. Every dead Mornethi is guaranteed' his or her place on the endless journey."
"So as fast as they die, they're put into one of these perpetual motion coffins, and sent on their way? I see why you sent for me. You have a traffic problem."
**********
The Morne day was twenty eight hours long. However, acclimatisation was not a problem for Hardy. Under the pressure of Cobbs Priority One work order, he worked until he dropped, slept at his desk, and worked again. The problem was serious: already the hordes of wandering coffins were causing serious disruptions to the lifestyle of the Mornethi, as narrow passes in the mountains became blocked. The computer readouts warned of major ecological damage in the long term: eventually, the whole planet could become one vast traffic jam of dead Mornethi. Leaving no room for the living. Yet the Mornethi elders would not consider changing their practices.
"It's their religion." explained Kotu. She was on permanent assignment as Hardy’s assistant. "They understand the problem, but they can't consider depriving their dead of the Journey."
"It would help if they'd except some stricter parameters for the coffins." Hardy stifled a yawn, and took another sip of coffee. "If I could stream the traffic flows a bit more tightly, maybe restrict the random course changes.... “
Kotu shook her head. "It's all we could do to persuade them to allow even basic restrictions. It's a desecration to interfere with the freedom of the Journey."
"Then I've done all I can. These programmes - " he indicated a stack of datachips "- aren't designed for this situation. I've tweaked them around as best I can, but we can only expect an extra ten years before the critical limit is reached."
"The SPO was expecting more than that."
"I know. But what can I do? I'm a Traffic Systems expert. This is a problem for an Alien Psychologist! At best, I could only give you more time. Unless there's a fundamental change in the situation, the results are going to be the same."
Hardy was silent for a moment, contemplating the future. "And when it does, a lot of heads will roll. Earth will be accused of genocide, since it was we who introduced gravitics to the Mornethi. Topaz will make a lot of capital out of that, so will the Solven. It's going to be a real mess, Kotu."
"Yes, I know. SPO Cobb was very worried about it - he was hardly sleeping until you..." she broke off suddenly.
"Until I..." Hardy stared at her, suspicion dawning. "Until I came? Kotu?"
She refused to look at him. Turned away and stared out of the window, watched a pair of coffins drifting by on opposite courses. Their automatics kept them from collision, though they ignored people. A small group of Mornethi were passing in the distance: tall and graceful, their duugah-leather cloaks swirling behind them. They stared curiously at the Terran base buildings, kept a wary eye on their flying ancestors.
Hardy came and stood beside her. "Was Cobb in charge when the Mornethi were given gravitics?"
"Yes." Kotu glanced round at him, looked away again. "The automated factory - it was his idea, his project. A gift from Earth. Good for relations with the Mornethi. He didn't realise what they would do with it."
"What? He didn't realise... I thought Alien Relations Officers were trained to understand the culture, estimate the effects of intervention?"
“Yes, thats right. Well, Field officers have that training. Normally."
"What are you telling me, Kotu? Cobb's not a field officer?"
She was blushing, he noticed. Embarrassed. "I shouldn't be telling you. It's - an internal matter."
"I appreciate that. But I am involved, you know."
"Yes. I suppose so." She talk a deep breath, turned to face him. "It's nothing I know for certain, you understand. But the rumour is that the SPO served most of his time on Earth, at HQ."
"Ah. Admin?"
"Office supplies."
"Marvellous. So how did he end up out here? No, don't tell me. The pension's higher for a man retiring from a Field posting, isn't it? And after a career at HQ, Mr Cobb knew all the strings to pull, didn't he? Am I right, Kotu?"
She nodded miserably. "It's only rumour, though."
"Oh, certainly. But I'd say that the evidence backs it up. Cobb's made real mess here - and now I know why he sent for a Traffic Systems expert."
"Sir?"
"Have you ever heard the definition of an expert? It's someone who's brought in at the last moment to take the blame! That's it, isn't it? Cobb couldn’t come up with a solution. He wasn't about to wreck his career by admitting his mistake. So he redefines it as a traffic problem, and calls in a traffic expert. Then, when it all turns to duugha droppings, the fault's mine. I can see why he's stopped worrying!"
"I'm sorry. I know how you must feel about it. I suppose I should have told you sooner."
Hardy nodded. "I don't blame you. I know what it's like to be a Junior Officer, caught in the middle. But in any case, the real problem isn't who gets the blame. The problem is what's going to happen to the Mornethi - and how can we stop it?"
Kotu shrugged. "We can't. We've tried everything."
"How about a return to tradition? Back to the duugha carts?"
"We suggested it. Nearly had a riot. None of the Morenthi will accept second best for their dead relatives, or themselves."
Hardy thought for a while. "I don't suppose they'd consider putting the coffins in orbit, or just sending them off into deep space?"
"We suggested that as well. But the Mornethi are still a primitive people. They don't really understand space. The idea of sending them away from their home forever - it was beyond them, and unacceptable. The Journey, you see, is not like our journeys. We go from place to place: from home, or to home... but for them the Journey is home, home is the Journey. But it take's place in the familiar context of the plains, the known world. They have no concept of travelling in a totally alien environment." She laughed, sadly. "Poor people. I think they're afraid that the souls of the dead would be lost for ever."
Hardy nodded. "But that's the real problem, isn't it. A religious one. Tell me, Kotu, has any one tried to approach this from a religious point of view?"
She gave him a puzzled look. "Well, I suppose so - I mean, the socio-religious structure has been studied, of course..."
"Can you get me a copy of that study? And set up a meeting with the Mornethi elders?"
"That's not supposed to happen without the SPO's permission."
"I don't feel much like asking Mr Cobbs permission, Kotu. Can you do it?"
She smiled suddenly. "Yes, I think I can."
**********
Just one week after his ignominious arrival, Hardy was once more walking across the spaceport field. Only this time he was heading towards the landing shuttle, and this time he kept a wary eye open for coffins. A few were drifting about in the distance, but none were coming his way. His eyes fell on a new structure being erected at the far side of the field.
"That's it?" He asked.
"That's it." Kotu confirmed. Senior Officer Cobb had not come to see him off. Hardy was not surprised, and in any case preferred Kotu's company.
"Do you feel proud?" She asked him. "Not many people can claim to have saved a whole world!"
"More relieved than proud!" he admitted. "When will it go into operation?"
"Another month, local time. There’s been some small problems adapting the factory made gravitics to the new spec, but nothing the technicians can't sort out. The real trick was getting the Mornethi to agree to it. I'm afraid the SPO's furious with you for succeeding where he failed - even though you've saved his career as well."
"He wasn't likely to be able to communicate effectively. He dismissed their whole religious system as nonsense, yet it's the basis for their whole way of thinking. He failed to appreciate that a religion, bizarre though it may appear from the outside, has it's own internal logic, deriving from it's basic premises. If you want to get your message across you have to understand that, and fit in with the logic system. If Cobb had taken the trouble to do that much, he would never have caused the situation in the first place."
"So you've told me. But what was it exactly, that made the difference?"
Hardy paused, looking at the half-built gravitic coffin launcher. A small nomad encampment had sprung up nearby. It looked like becoming something of a holy place to the Mornethi.
"The local concept of God is actually quite a sophisticated one." He explained. "To them, God is everywhere, constantly present - very much as in Christian theology, in fact: but we sometimes struggle with the concept. We tend to think of God as being `somewhere' - Heaven, perhaps. But they don't think in terms of settled structures for themselves, so naturally they don't see God in one. In that, they have a advantage over us."
"I don't suppose the SPO would see it that way." Kotu said dryly.
"No." Hardy agreed. "Which was just the problem. For the Mornethi, life is an endless journey through God's...presence, I suppose. The exact concept doesn't come across in English. But point is, they see death as a continuation of that journey. When Cobb tried to persuade them to send their dead into space, he talked about it purely in practical, scientific terms. Made no mention of God at all. Perfectly reasonable, from his point of view. But to people with a well developed theology, but very little cosmology - it caused an unfortunate misconception. They thought that he was telling them to send their dead away from God. To cast them out from His presence, as it were."
"Like - going to Hell?"
"Exactly. Which they would not consider, not even to save themselves. Well, how could they?"
"And you..."
"Once I understood the problem, it was fairly simple to deal with. Just a matter of helping them to expand their concept of God: not just God of one planet, but of the whole Universe."
"You must have preached a good sermon!"
Hardy laughed. "One of my best - or at least, one of my most effective! But in fact, it wasn't that difficult. They were as aware of the problem as we were. Once they saw what I was driving at, the Elders were only to glad to pick up the idea. In fact, they've developed it further. Death is now the opportunity for a greater Journey-In-God than is possible in life. It's being preached all over Morne."
They stood by the landing shuttle and looked across the field. Several more coffins had drifted in. The Dead of Morne were gathering for their eternal pilgrimage.