The one hope for Donovan was to
escape into the past, become a
citizen of the early 20th Century.
But he overlooked the aftermath....
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Science Fiction Quarterly May 1951.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
"Adel W. Crane, C.D." Donovan held the Identi-plast in his hands, the
fingers trembling slightly. "What do the letters 'C.D.' stand for?"
he asked, determined to play the part of an honest citizen who had no
interest in unlicensed rejuvenation or time travel.
The chalk-faced young man with the fixed smile told him: "Cyclic
Detection. You may have heard our more dramatic nickname, Criminal
Destroyers; I've been an agent since 2452."
High-strung Donovan moistened his lips. Of course he had heard of the
C.D. In an age when cyclic travel backward through the centuries was
an established science, the Komitet that governed the Home Planet
had to employ ruthless measures to cope with any experimenters whose
uncontrolled work might threaten to change past temporal cycles. The
C.D. were the scavengers of the World Komitet; they scoured the past
centuries eliminating illegal and unlicensed cyclic travellers. In a
rigidly-controlled solar system there were thousands of law-breakers,
political disappointees, and even youth-seekers like Donovan, who hoped
for life-extensions in past ages. The C.D., with terror and all the
resources of the solar system, hunted them down and exterminated them.
Quietly, ruthlessly, and painfully.
"The criminal Blascomb," Crane said, the fixed smile still on the thin
lips, "has been observed near the Donovan metallurgical plants. The
Komitet suspects that someone close to your office may have established
contact with him for illegal rejuvenation."
His eyes left Donovan's taut face and scanned the office walls. Control
boards recording operations in extra-terrestial metallin plants lined
two sides of the office. The only break in the sternness of the walls
was an antique painting, a still-life abstraction that must have dated
way back to the 20th century. Crane stared at its flashes of color, the
fixed smile turning to amused contempt.
Donovan dared not ask for additional details. The word or whim of the
Komitet was law. Criminal Destroyer! Donovan shuddered; he had spent
the past six months in quietly transferring ownership of the Trust to
various fronts for Blascomb. A fortune worth several erg-units squared
to the 6th power had already changed hands. Had the C.D. caught him
before Blascomb could deliver on the rejuvenation and time-escape deal?
"We have nothing to hide," Donovan said, "my staff will cooperate with
the C.D. I assume you want access to the psycho-record files?"
Edel W. Crane, contemptuous eyes turning away from the still-life,
reached a bony hand for the approval slip.
"I will let you know what I find."
* * * * *
Donovan stood up, and when the C.D. agent left he frantically sent out
a conscious call to Blascomb's thought-frequency number.
"By the Komitet!" Blascomb's wave-induced voice rang in Donovan's
ears, "I told you never to call me unless it was most urgent."
"This is urgent," Donovan thought desperately, "Crane, a C.D. agent,
was here a minute ago. He's going to look over the books of the Trust."
"He won't find a thing," Blascomb's thoughts were confident in
Donovan's mind, "They haven't caught a single one of the men I've sent
back into the 17th century; just be patient and we'll cyclic you out
within a week."
"Then hurry. My heart's in bad shape and I can't last much longer. I'm
practically being kept alive by that rotten Callistan serum."
"Stay alive for one more week," Blascomb thought encouragingly, "and
you'll be young for centuries."
_Turn backward, turn backward, O Time in thy flight!_ The song sped
through Donovan's mind, lifting his spirits. To be young again, and to
be free from the constant supervision and threat of the terrifying C.D.!
"As for Crane," Blascomb went on, "It's part of the service I'm giving
you. We've arranged a false-lead case in your office. Crane has his
talons set for your brother-in-law. Shortly before the C.D. annihilates
him your escape will be arranged to throw suspicion upon him. We will
make it seem that your brother-in-law killed you for denouncing him
to the C.D. Crane will never see through the subterfuge; you'll be
safe--perhaps forever."
His brother-in-law's life was a cheap price to pay for youth. Donovan
stared at his stiff, corpse-like hands. All he needed was one more
week. He would make one more effort to secure a Life-Extension--and
then....
* * * * *
The Examiner for the Board of Life waited while Donovan dressed. The
answer could already be seen in the official's eyes.
"No?"
"I'm sorry," the Examiner said, "but the laws of the Komitet are
fairly stringent. Only those whose social value is above Par 195 may
be rejuvenated. Not much value is placed upon engineers and Trust
managers who can easily be replaced from each year's Birth Quota. The
application is denied, and there's no use appealing it."
"It's unjust!" Donovan exclaimed, ignoring the alarming pain in
his failing heart. "All I want is ten more years--not even a full
return to youth! If there's no room on Home Planet, let me go the
extra-terrestials or even some asteroid. I'll make any contribution
required to...."
The Examiner, who had often heard such vain pleas, rapped his desk
with the blood-analyscope. "The Komitet is far too wise to permit
socially unnecessary extensions of the life span, just as it does not
permit unlicensed time travel. What would happen if we allowed you
to be rejuvenated, and then permitted extra-terrestial emigration?
There would be millions of old or sick people like you demanding
equal treatment and equal consideration. Before long the planets
and asteroids would be overpopulated and independent colonies set
up thereon which would eventually come in conflict with the Home
Planet Komitet. No, my friend, the Komitet is wise in decreeing that
rejuvenation and human birth are mutually contradictory. Rather than
sacrifice birth, with the consequent stagnation of the human species,
the Komitet has decided rigidly to control youth-extensions, and grants
those periods of additional life only to the socially valuable."
"Yes," Donovan said bitterly, "the Komitet keeps itself immortal while
the rest of us have to die."