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She told him frankly who she was. She knew she was pronouncing her own death sentence, yet she spoke quietly. She must show the same courage that the Earthmen had when they sacrificed themselves in the Guardian Wheel.

“Listen to me for two minutes more before you blast my ship,” she asked. “I rode the god-car up from Rythar–I am coming now to spread the Sickness on Earth–because I wanted to know the truth about something that puzzled me. I had to know what was above the rain mist. In the answer house you would not tell us that. Now I understand why. We were children. You were waiting for us to mature. And that is the mistake you made; that blindness nearly destroyed your civilization.

“You will have to build another Guardian Wheel. This time don’t hide anything from us because we’re children. The truth makes us mature, not illusions or taboos. Never forget that. It is easier to face a fact than to have to give up a dream we’ve been taught to believe. Tell your children the truth when they ask for it. Tell us, please. We can adjust to it. We’re just as human as you are.”

Mryna drew a long breath. Her lips were trembling. Did this man understand what she had tried to say? She would never know. If she failed, Earth–in spite of its generosity and its courage–would one day be destroyed by children bred on too many delusions. “I’m ready,” Mryna said steadily. “Send up your warships and destroy me.”

She waited. Less than ten minutes were left. Her shuttle began to move more slowly. She was no more than a mile above Earth. She saw the soaring cities and the white highways twisting through green fields.

Seven minutes left. Where were the warships? She looked anxiously through the viewport and the sky was empty.

Desperately she closed the voice toggle again. “Send them quickly!” she cried. “You must not let me land!”

No reply came from the speaker. Her auto-shuttle began to circle a large city which lay at the southern tip of an inland lake. Three minutes more. The ship nosed toward the spaceport.

“Why don’t you do something?” Mryna screamed. “What are you waiting for?”

The shuttle settled into a metal rack. The lock hissed open. Mryna shrank back against the wall, looking out at what she would destroy–what she had already destroyed. A dignified, portly man came panting up the ramp toward her.

“No!” she whispered. “Don’t come in here.”

“I am Senator Brieson,” he said shortly. “For ten years Dr. Jameson has been telling us from the Guardian Wheel that we should adopt a different educational policy toward Rythar. Your scare broadcast was clever, but we’re used to Jameson’s tricks. He’ll be removed from office for this, and if I have anything to say about it–“

“You didn’t believe me?” Mryna gasped.

“Of course not. If a plague carrier escaped from Rythar, we would have heard about it long before this. The trouble with you scientists is you don’t grant the rest of us any common sense. And Jameson’s the worst of the lot. He’s always contended that the sociologists should determine our Rytharian policy, not the elected representatives of the people.”

Mryna broke down and began to cry hysterically. The senator put his hand under her arm–none too gently. “Let’s have no more dramatics, please. You don’t know how fortunate you are, young lady. If the politicians were as addle-witted as you scientists claim we are, we might have believed that nonsense and blasted your ship out of the sky. You scientists have to give up the notion that you’re our guardians; we’re quite able to look out for ourselves.”