at both the computer and the beings who
had created it.

Despite everything they'd done and all the powers they had, those who
went before weren't gods in any spiritual sense. Like their
successors, the Circle of Lords, they were something Tarlac found more
understandable: beings who weren't supernatural, but who had achieved
their full potential. That, as far as the Ranger was concerned, was
several orders of magnitude more acceptable than some immaterial,
spiritual essence that demanded worship and obedience on pain of
eternal torment.

Those who went before had demanded nothing, not even belief in their
existence, and neither did the Lords. They accepted the reverence they
were given, not because they wanted it, but because it was still
necessary to those who gave it.

Kranath had thought of himself as a parent. Tarlac's experience led
him to see the Lord more as a sort of super-powered Ranger. Parents,
Rangers, Lords . . . ideally, all served the same function of guardian,
using their various powers to help. Oh, sure, a Ranger could execute
rebels and create nobility, instead of spanking a kid or giving him a
puppy, and the Lords operated on an even larger scale--but it was the
same principle. And wasn't a kid with a puppy yet another example of
that principle?

The realization of something so basic it had never occurred to him
before, as he walked in the warmth of Homeworld's sun, seemed fitting
to him. He'd been Kranath, he'd been Godhome; now he was Steve Tarlac
again. Only Steve Tarlac, he thought with a silent laugh, but he'd
found at least part of the answer he needed to bring peace if he
survived. He knew he'd been shown only as much of Kranath's story as
he could understand and use--but he had the key, and that knowledge was
enough to make this last bit of his hike a pleasant stroll, untroubled
for the moment by the urgent need to end his two peoples' war. He
would do it when the time was right.

Perhaps five kilometers out of the capital, Tarlac came to a road and
turned onto it gladly. As on Terra or Irschcha, it was simply a lane
cleared to a low ground cover, all that was necessary for null-grav or
air-cushion vehicles, and it doubled as a pedestrian walkway. The
traffic passing three meters overhead provided occasional shade, and he
got waves and smiles from some of the drivers and passengers, which he
returned even though he couldn't extend claws in emphasis as they did.

It wasn'