THE ETERNAL QUEST A Novelette by Joseph Gilbert [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Astonishing Stories, October 1942. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] "I have come," said the little man, "a new Moses, to lead my people to the Promised Land." He said it slowly, with dramatic restraint. "Fate has led me to a star, and I have returned to show mankind the way to a thing it has not known for over a hundred years--hope!" He was not quite five feet tall, with a chubby face and a beet-red nose, straw-colored hair, and mild gray eyes. He was nondescript. And it seemed very strange, somehow, that this ridiculous little man could stand there on that platform, with the gleaming majesty of that five-hundred-foot spaceship in the background dwarfing him--and facing that battery of telecasters, talk to two billion people and awaken in them a thing that had been dormant for a century or more. He said, "We have died spiritually, and the eternal quest of man for contentment has almost ceased--for he knows, in his barren, bitter heart that there is no contentment to find." He paused, and the tremendous crowd that filled the rocket-ground were weirdly silent, waiting. "No longer shall only the Space Patrol know the thrills of adventure and discovery. We, too...." * * * * * Robert Lawrence smiled whimsically and cut off the televisor. It was almost impossible to hear the speaker, anyway, for no matter how well sound-proofed a Space Patrol ship is, the noise is still deafening to one not long accustomed to it. You can't stop the vibrations of an atomic engine. Besides, the reference of the little man to the adventure and discovery of the Space Patrol was rather amusing to one who held that job, and was tired of it. You took up a tight orbit around Mars and were bored to death for some four weeks, and then there was an order to intercept a gang of wild youngsters who had run past the Interplanetary Way Station without signaling, for the thrill of it. Occasionally you sent out a call for a battle cruiser when you spotted a private ship that wouldn't answer your demand for call letters, and if part of the crew tried to run for it in the life rocket, you would chase them out as far as Venus before you got a magnetic grapple on them. Then you risked your life, but it still wasn't much fun, because the crew was probably made up of a bunch of scatter-brained kids, with a hysterical finger on the trigger of their blasters, ready to kill instantly when you got them in the corner. The rest of the time you dropped in on settlers who were sick and tried to bring them around; answered any call for help on the planet or in your sector of space; acted as a sort of watchdog; and wondered what the hell to do with yourself.