Saxon could feel the Aliens probing at his thoughts like a scalpel
laying bare his skull.
"_Two times two is four. Three times two is six_," he thought hastily
and realized the seven old men were on the verge of apoplexy.
There was a tense moment of silence as their wills clashed. Then the
Moderator asked, "What's your price?"
"Freedom for myself and the crew. Hands-off policy for the humanoids."
The silence deepened.
Again Saxon became aware of those flickering baffling thoughts as the
seven old men conferred behind their mental shields.
At last, grudgingly, the Moderator spoke, "That depends on your
success."
Saxon didn't relax. He had won only if he had guessed the right answer
to a question that had been obsessing him. If he was right, he would
need no guarantee to hold the Aliens to their promise.
"You said that when the metabolism of the humanoids was slowed they
returned to their normal life span. Does that mean that you can
actually lengthen their lives to equal yours?"
The Moderator looked puzzled, nodded. "A comparatively simple
operation, but...."
"But nothing!" Saxon almost shouted. "If their life span is the same
as yours, then they'll be on the same time scale. Their fecundity is
the direct result of their shortened life cycle. They'll no longer
constitute a menace!"
Hope blazed temporarily in the Moderator's eyes, then went out. When he
spoke next his voice was cold, dead.
"But that takes time. Before we could effect the change several
generations of humanoids would have lived and died. We'd be conquered!"
Saxon laughed outright. "Of course, you people couldn't effect the
change quick enough, but other humanoids could. You have Ileth here.
She's a General Atomic agent. You have the crew and some of the best
brains on Earth isolated on Zara. They could do it!"
The Moderator drew in his breath sharply. "But would they be willing to
cooperate?"
"What a question!" roared Saxon. "Would mankind be willing to increase
their life span ten thousand years? They'll jump at it!"
* * * * *
Zara was a diminutive green little world, held in thrall by the third
planet of Alpha Centauri A. A miniature heaven of soft breezes and
crystal streams and gravity so slight that Saxon felt buoyant as a
bubble.
He said in rare good humor, "So there it is. The Varkans can't slow the
metabolic rate of billions of humanoids by force or by themselves in
time."
He was surrounded by the members of the expedition, to whom he had just
explained the proposal of the Aliens to extend mankind's normal life
span to an unthinkable age.
With his arm around Ileth's slim waist, he had watched suspicion give
way to hope and hope to wild enthusiasm. Only Villainowski appeared
disgruntled.
"It's more than I can stomach," growled the Chief, "to think of
perpetuating General Atomic in power practically forever."
Saxon leaned close, said in a lowered voice, "You don't believe that
if the people have ten thousand years to contemplate the iniquity of
General Atomic, they'll continue to be duped. It'll be the death blow
to all the big corporations."
He straightened, returning his arm to Ileth's waist. "There's no reason
for you to return to Earth with the rest of them, Villainowski. There's
a lot to see here, a lot to learn. Ileth and I are going to spend...."
He frowned, called, "Hey, Mercedes. You're the anthropologist. What
was that barbaric custom practiced by newly-married couples during the
pre-Atom age?"
"The honeymoon." Mercedes chuckled, turned to the faintly pink Ileth,
pinched her cheek. "Don't look so frightened, child. The first ten
thousand years are the hardest."
* * * * *
[Transcriber's Note: Original text had two section VII. Second one
renumbered to VIII.]