"My only one!"
"Doctor--" Ron stepped towards him. "You can't leave things as they
are--"
"Are you willing, Scholar? Will you let Ron Carver live his life in
peace?"
The Ron-body stiffened.
"Yes," he snapped.
"Ron--" the doctor waved towards him. "Hand him your gun."
"What?"
"Give it to him! We've made a pact."
Ron hesitated, and then extended the butt towards the Scholar. He took
it with a slight bow, weighed it in his palm, and then slipped the
weapon into his pocket.
"You did wisely," the doctor said, with noticeable relief. "If you had
turned that gun on us, Scholar, I would have killed you on the spot."
He patted the metallic bulk beneath his own coat. "I came prepared,
too...."
* * * * *
The copter rose serenely towards the heavenly vault. Ron's small body
was feeling the effects of the day's strain. It collapsed against the
leathery cushions, the short arms and legs limp and dangling.
The doctor patted his knee. "Another few moments," he said.
"Where are we going?"
"To the spaceport in Winnipeg. I have a friend there. He has two
children of his own, both born in the Mars Colony. He'll be returning
there within the week."
"And you want me to go with him?"
"Yes, Ron. I want you to grow up all over again, and then return
to Earth. It won't be easy for you, but there will be advantages.
Your life span has been lengthened. And right now, you know, you're
something of a prodigy yourself." He chuckled dryly.
"And what happens here?" Ron said bitterly. "What kind of Earth will I
find on my return?"
"An older Earth. Perhaps a wiser Earth...."
"No, doctor." Ron forced himself to a sitting position. "Not with the
Scholar alive and thriving, growing stronger and more intelligent with
every passing year. It'll be _his_ Earth when I return...."
The doctor stared at the night sky before answering.
"No, Ron. He'll never live to see it. I knew that when I selected
_your_ body to house his mind...."
"What do you mean?"
"I chose you for a reason, Ron. A vital reason. When you came to my
office on your return from Andromeda, I discovered something about you
which made up my mind. An ailment without a name or a symptom, found
only rarely in the bodies of a few space travelers. You had it, Ron,
and in a year or two, it would have struck you down with the savagery
and surprise of lightning.
"It was then that I agreed to the Scholar's plan to exchange bodies.
Agreed to it on my own terms, with the body of Ron Carver...."
"Then I'll die!" Ron said.
"No, Ron. You will live. It's the Scholar who has made the bad
bargain...."
In the distance, the lights of the Winnipeg spaceport blinked a welcome.