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Updated: May 21, 2025
"The more backward of the two, but under my guidance in half a century it will be the more advanced, mark me." "Look here," Martin Gunther said. "Do we have two of each of the basic specialists, so that we can divide the party in such a way that neither planet will miss out in any one field?" Amschel Mayer was beaming at the reception of his scheme.
Frankly, Honorable Mayer, I am satisfied with my world as I find it today." Amschel Mayer smiled wryly at him. "I am afraid you must adapt to these new developments." The baron said coldly, "Why? I do not like to be told I must do something." "Because, my dear baron, there are three continents on the planet of Genoa. At present there is little trade due to inadequate shipping.
It wouldn't take long to extend the life span double or triple the present." Amschel Mayer said, "At this stage progress is faster with the generations closer together. A man is pressed when he knows he has only twenty or thirty years of peak efficiency.
The Co-ordinator said, "I suppose I'm an incurable romantic. You see, I hate to see you go." Academician Amschel Mayer was a man in early middle years; Dr. Leonid Plekhanov, his contemporary. They offset one another; Mayer thin and high-pitched, his colleague heavy, slow and dour. Now they both showed their puzzlement. The Co-ordinator added, "Without me." Plekhanov kept his massive face blank.
Amschel Mayer and Leonid Plekhanov were the center of the fracas and right now were at it hot and heavy. Joe Chessman listened with only half interest. He settled into a chair on the opposite side of the lounge and sipped at his coffee. They were going over their old battlefields, assaulting ramparts they'd stormed a thousand times over.
"It means quick progress. Meanwhile, we go through each commune and from earliest youth, locate those members who are suited to higher studies. We bring them into State schools where they get as much education as they can assimilate more than is available in commune schools. These are the Texcocans we are training in the sciences." "The march to the anthill," Amschel Mayer muttered.
"Only in extreme emergency, my dear Jerry. The baron would be up in arms if he found a dozen of his men massacred on the outskirts of Bari, and we don't want a showdown at this stage. It's taken nearly a year to build this part we act." At this time of day the gates of the port city were open and the guards lounged idly. Their captain recognized Amschel Mayer and did no more than nod respectfully.
Why didn't you bring him back to the ship!" Chessman took a chair at the table. The others assumed standing positions behind him. "I'm afraid we'll have to reject your views on the subject. Twenty years ago this expedition split into two groups. My team will accomplish its tasks, your opinions are not needed." Amschel Mayer glared at the others in hostility.
"I wouldn't worry about old man Russ taking over Dean's domination of oil, though. Mike's got the support of all the Pedagogue's resources behind him. Besides, we've got to let these Genoese get into the act. The more the economy expands, the more capable men we need. As it is, I think we're already spread a little too thin." Amschel Mayer had dropped the subject.
"Ten years it is," Mayer snapped back at him. Jerry Kennedy saluted with his glass. "Cheers," he said. On the return to Genoa Amschel Mayer said to Kennedy, "Are you sober enough to assimilate something serious?" "Sure, chief, of course." "Hm-m-m. Well then, begin taking the steps necessary for us to place a few men on Texcoco in the way of, ah, intelligence agents." "You mean some of our team?"
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