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Updated: June 4, 2025
"My friend, you, too, are tired. Sleep, sleep soundly, sleep till I call sleep!" And Morey slept under Zezdon Afthen's will, till Torlos carried him gently to his room. Then Afthen let the sleep relax to a natural one. Wade decided he might as well follow under his own power, for now he knew he was tired, and could not overcome Zezdon Afthen, who was not.
"It is the characteristic of intelligent races manifesting itself curiosity," pointed out Stel Felso Theu. "Are these the type of men still living in this valley, or who will be living there in fifty thousand years?" asked Zezdon Afthen. "I'd say they weren't Egyptians as we know them, but typical Neolithic men.
And I will measure the energy I use in terms of sun-powers, not horsepower. That may tell you of its magnitude!" "But," Zezdon Afthen asked, "while you men of Earth work on this problem, what is there for us? We have no problems, save the problem of the fate of our world, still fifty thousand years of your time in the future.
We have to use altitude suits, as the Negrians breathe an atmosphere of hydrogen instead of oxygen," explained Arcot rapidly to the Ortolian and the Talsonian who were to accompany him. "We will all want to go, and so, although this suit will be decidedly uncomfortable for you and Zezdon Afthen and Stel Felso Theu, I think it wise that you all wear it.
Certainly no ship could outdistance this in a race!" "As a matter of fact watch!" Arcot pushed a little metal button along a slide to the extreme end. Again the ship seemed to writhe. Space was no longer black, but faintly gray, and beside them, on either side, floated two exact replicas of their ship! Zezdon Afthen stared.
They drank the coffee and returned to the control room, and sat about, the terrestrians smoking peacefully, the Ortolian and the Talsonian satisfying themselves with some form of mild narcotic from Ortol, which Zezdon Afthen introduced. "Well, we have a lot more to do," Arcot said.
One of the leaders was picked up, and trussed quickly in a rope a fellow had carried. "Look out," called Wade from above. Suddenly he was standing beside them, having flown down on the power suit. "Caught your thoughts rather Zezdon Afthen did." He handed Arcot a ray pistol. The rest of the Greeks were near now, crying in amazement, and running more slowly. They didn't seem so anxious to attack.
"We do, heartily, and are heartily sorry that one of our race has acted in this way. Let us proceed to Talso, as soon as possible. You might send Fentes down in a shell of artificial matter," suggested Zezdon Afthen. "Which," said Arcot, after this had been done, and they were on their way to Talso, "shows the danger of a mad Thought!"
The relief in Zezdon Afthen's mind was genuine, and it was easily obvious to the Sirians that the winning ship was friendly, for, with all its frightful armament, it had downed a ship obviously of Thett. Though not exactly like the others, it had the all too familiar lines. "They welcome us now," said Zezdon Afthen's mental message to his companions.
Zezdon Afthen raised his dark eyes to the terrestrian with a look in their depths that made Wade involuntarily resolve that Thet and all Thessians should be promptly consigned to that limbo of forgotten things where they belonged. Wade sat staring moodily at the screen for some time, while Zezdon Afthen, sunk in his own reveries, continued.
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