James H. Schmitz - Demon Breed

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DEMON BREED by James H. Schmitz

One end of the aircar edged into view. . A moment later all of it suddenly appeared in the open

area-and on the canopy --

Nile's thoughts blurred in shock.

Parahuans. . . .

Some seventy years ago they'd come out of space to launch attacks against the worlds of the Hub.

They'd done considerable damage, but in the end their forces were pulled back; and it was believed

that by the time the Federation s warships finished hunting them through space, only insignificant

remnants had survived to return to their undiscovered home worlds. It had been the last open

attack by an alien civilization against a Federation planet --

. . . And we became careless, Nile thought. We felt we were so big no one would dare come again .

. . .

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Chapter 1

AS THE PAIN haze began to thin out, Ticos Cay was somewhat surprised to find he was still on his

feet. This had been a brutally heavy treatment - at moments it had seemed almost impossible to

control. However, he had controlled it. The white-hot sensations, which hadn't quite broken

through with full impact into consciousness, faded to something like a sullenly lingering glow.

Then that faded too. His vision began to clear.

Cautiously he allowed himself to accept complete awareness of his body again It was still an

unpleasant experience. There were sharp twinges everywhere, a feeling of having been recently

pierced and sliced by tiny hot knives, the residue of pain The lasting damage caused by one of

these pain treatments to the human nervous system and sensory apparatus was slight but measurable

The accumulative effect of a series of treatments was no longer slight; and there had been over

twenty of them during the past weeks. Each time now, taking stock of the physical loss he had

suffered during the process, Ticos wondered whether he would be forced to acknowledge that the

damage had spread to the point where it could no longer be repaired

However, it hadn't happened on this occasion. His mind was fogged over; but it always was for a

short while after a treatment. Reassured, he shifted attention from his internal condition to his

surroundings.

The big room had come back into focus. Most of it was dark because the demons had cut out all but

a central section of the ceiling illumination. There remained a pool of light which enclosed most

of the long worktable against which he leaned and the raised platform twenty feet away, from which

they were watching him. The shelves and walls beyond, the rows of biological specimens, the arrays

of analyzing and recording equipment, were in darkness.

Ticos Cay looked about, taking it in, drawing the trappings of reality back around him. He looked

last at the demons.

"You succeeded again in avoiding the feeling of pain?" asked the small one one the three.

Ticos considered. The identity of the small demon was still blurred but coming clear. Yes, his

name was Koll. . . the Great Palach Koll. One of the most influential among the leaders of the

Everliving. Second in command of the Voice of Action. . . .

Ticos admonished himself: Be very careful of Koll!

He made a sound between what might have been a muttering attempt to speak and a groan. He could

have replied immediately. But it wouldn't do to think foggily while being interrogated - and

particularly not while being interrogated by Koll.

The three stared silently, unmoving. Their skins, harnesses and other equipment gleamed wetly as

if they had come out of the sea only minutes before entering the room. Which might be the case,

salt water was the demons element, and they became sick and uncomfortable if they remained too

long away from it. The one to the right of Koll held a device with a glowing blue eye. When the

glow brightened, a pain treatment was about to begin. The one at the left of Koll had a weapon

trained on Ticos. These two were squat heavy creatures hunkering on muscular hopping legs. Ticos

had been obliged to watch one of their kind wrap his arms around the rib cage of a man and crush

the man slowly to death without apparent effort.

It had been done at Koll's direction. The big demons were underlings; they were called Oganoon by

the Palachs. Koll was of the same species but not large or heavy. Like many of the Great Palachs,

he was a wrinkled miniature, not much more than a foot high. Cloaked and hooded, he looked like a

shrunken mummy. But he could move like springing steel. Ticos had seen Koll leap eight feet to

plunge a paralyzing needle into the eye of an Oganoon who had angered him He struck five or six

times, so quickly that the victim seemed to stiffen in death without understanding what had

occurred.

Ticos strongly preferred not to anger Koll. But he needed as long a period of silence as Koll

would permit to clear his head for the questions that would be directed at him. He had been

maintaining a precarious balance between considerations on that order for some time He waited

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until the speaking slit above Koll's eyes writhed open, then said unsteadily; "I could not avoid

all the pain. But it remained tolerable."

"It remained tolerable!" the speaking slit repeated as if Koll were musing over the statement.

Ticos was accustomed to the fact that many of the Everliving had an excellent command of human

speech, but Koll's voice still seemed unnatural to him. It was a deep warm voice, rich and strong,

which shouldn't be issuing from such a malevolent little entity. "These children are afraid of

you, Dr. Cay," it told him. "Did you know that?"

"No, I didn't," Ticos said.

"At a tenth of the setting used here," Kolt explained, "these instruments are employed to punish

them for serious offenses. They are in terror of them. They are afraid of you because you seem

able to bear agony beyond their comprehension. And there are other reasons. . . Your communicator

has recorded six call signals during the past two days."

Ticos nodded. "So I heard."

"You predicted that one of the so-called Tuvelas would attempt to contact you here."

Ticos hesitated, said,. "The term Tuvela is yours. The person to whom you refer is known to me as

a Guardian."

"Apparently the same class of creature," said Koll. "A creature assumed by some to possess

abnormal qualities. Among them the quality of being invincible. Dr. Cay, what do you know of these

remarkable qualities -- if they exist?."

Ticos shrugged. "As I've told you, I've known of the Guardians and of their function in our

civilization for a relatively short time. They operate very secretly. I've had personal contacts

with only one of them. She appears to me to be an exceptionally capable human being. But if she or

the Guardians generally have abnormal qualities, I don't know of them." He added, Evidently the

Everliving know more about the Guardians than I do."

"That is possible. You said they claim to be immortal."

Ticos shook his head. "I was told they've developed methods of restoring youthful health to an

organism and maintaining it for a long period. I was not told they were immortal. To me the ward

does not have significant meaning."

"The concept of immortal entities is meaningless to you, Dr. Cay?"

Ticos hesitated again because this could become dangerous ground in speaking to a Palach. But he

said; "Who can prove he is immortal before he's reached the end of time?"

Koll's dark face twitched. He might have been amused. "Who indeed?" he agreed. "Describe to me

your relationship with these Guardians."

Ticos had described that relationship to Koll several times before. He said, "Two years ago I was

asked whether I would enter their service. I accepted."

"Why?"

"I'm aging, Great Palach: Among my rewards was to be instruction in the Guardian's methods, of

obtaining longevity and regaining the advantages of youth."

"They’ve given you such instructions?"

"I've been instructed in some of the fundamental approaches. My progress evidently is

satisfactory."

"In what way do you serve them, Dr. Cay?"

"I'm still undergoing a training process and haven't been told what my service is to be. I assume

that my scientific background will play a part in it."

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"The nerve controls you practice to distort the effects of the pain-giver were acquired through

the longevity exercises?"

"Yes, they were."

A long pause followed his reply. Koll's speaking slit had closed and he remained unmoving. The

lower sections of his double-lensed eyes were lidded, the upper sections stared with a kind of

baleful blankness at Ticos. The hulking servitors had become equally immobile, probably as a sign

of respect. Ticos wasn't sure what the pause meant. The same thing had occurred during earlier

interrogations. Perhaps the tiny monster was simply reflecting on what had been said. But he

appeared sunk in a remote trance. If he was addressed now he would ignore it, and he seemed

unaware of motion about him. Ticos suspected there was the equivalent of human insanity in Koll.

Even Great Palachs of his own rank seemed afraid of him, and he treated them with barely veiled

contempt. His dark cowl and cloak were of utilitarian material and often indifferently clean,

while they concealed their dwarfish bodies under richly ornamented garments, gleaming with jewels

Apparently they preferred to avoid Koll's company; but his influence on them was very strong.

The speaking slit above the eyes twisted open again.

"Dr. Cay," Koll's voice said, "I become increasingly inclined to add you to my museum of humanity,

You have seen my collection?"

Ticos cleared his throat. "Yes," he said.

"Of course you have," Koll said, as if the fact had just occurred to him. "I showed it to you. As

a warning not to lie to us In particular, not to lie to me."

Ticos said warily; "I have been quite careful not to lie to you, Great Palach."

"Have you? I'm not at all certain of it," said Koll. "Do you believe that the person who is

attempting to reach you by communicator is the Guardian of whom you told us?"

Ticos nodded. "Yes. The Guardian Etland."

"Why should it be she?"

"No one else has the call symbol of my communicator

"Because you were to remain isolated here?"

"Yes."

"The Guardian Etland supervises your training?"

"Yes."

"You describe her as a young female," said Koll.

"I said she appears young," Ticos corrected him. "I don't know her age."

"You say that these Guardians or Tuvelas have developed a form of longevity which provides even

the appearance of their species youth. . . ."

"The Guardian Etland has implied that."

"And yet," said Koll, "you tell us the Guardians assigned you the task of searching here for

substances among the life forms of this world which promote longevity. What interest could the

Guardian's have in research which yields them no more than they possess?"

Ticos shrugged. "I know they're testing me in various ways, and it may be that this is their

manner of testing my ability as a biochemist. But it's also possible that they're still interested

in finding simpler or more dependable methods of gaining longevity than their present ones."

"What part does the use of chemicals play in their present methods?"

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"I don't know. I've described the basic approaches I was told- to practice. I've been given no

hint of the nature of more advanced longevity procedures. My research is confined to the

observation of effects in my test material."

"You've suggested that research at this level could be of value to the Everliving."

"I haven't suggested it," Ticos said: "I realize, of course, that a number of Palachs observe my

test results and analyze the substances involved."

"Don't let yourself assume their scientific interest assures your continuing safety, Dr. Cay. Our

methods of obtaining individual longevity require no improvement, I'm certain you are lying to us.

I intend to determine in what manner you are lying. Why did you request permission to respond to

the Guardian's call?"

"I explained my purpose to the Palach Moga," Ticos said.

"Explain it to me."

Ticos indicated the equipment and specimens in the darkened recesses of the room. "This project is

the Guardian Etland's responsibility. I and my training are her responsibility. Until your arrival

she came here at very regular intervals to inspect the progress I made. Since then she hasn't come

here."

"What do you deduce from that?" "It's possible that the Guardians know of your presence."

"I don't consider that a possibility, Dr. Cay."

Ticos shrugged. "It's the only explanation I see for the Guardian Etland's failure to maintain her

schedule. The Guardians may prefer you to leave quietly before there is a general disturbance. If

I'm permitted to turn on the communicator when she signals again, we may learn that the Guardian

is on her way here to speak to the Everliving rather than to me. . . ."

"She would come knowingly into the area we hold." said Koll.

From what several Palachs have told me," Ticos remarked, "it would not be surprising conduct in a

Tuvela. If it is true --"

"We’ll assume it isn't true, Dr. Cay."

"Then," said Ticos, "I should still be permitted to take the call and attempt to divert her from

visiting me at this time. If she does not know you are here and arrives, she will discover you are

here. And even if you are able to prevent her from leaving again."

Koll made a hissing sound. "If we are able to prevent her from leaving?"

"Your own records, as you've implied to me, indicate that Tuvelas are extremely resourceful

beings," Ticos observed mildly. "But if you should capture or kill the Guardian, others will come

promptly in search of her. Eventually your presence must be revealed." He shrugged. I don't want

these things to happen. As a servant of the Guardians, it is my duty to prevent them from

happening if I can. As you're aware, I've been attempting to persuade some of the Everliving that

your plans against my species must be abandoned before a general conflict becomes inevitable."

"I know that," Said Koll. "You've had an astonishing - and shameful - degree of success. The Voice

of Caution becomes increasingly insistent Even the suggested use of your communicator is

supported. Is it possible, Dr Cay, that you are a Guardian who allowed himself to be captured in

order to confuse the Everliving and weaken their resolution?"

"No," Ticos said, "I'm not a Guardian."

"You're a Hulon?"

"Since that's the name you give the general run of humanity, yes, I'm a Hulon."

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"It was the name we had for a vicious and stupid creature we encountered in our past," Koll

remarked. "We destroyed the creature, so the name was free to be bestowed again. Despite your

efforts, our plans won't be abandoned, Dr. Cay. I know you're lying. Not too clumsily, but it will

not be long before we put your story to the test. . . . Now attend to your collection here - and

reflect occasionally on mine. . . ."

Ticos did not see him make any gesture, but the Oganoon on Koll's right snapped the nerve-torture

instrument to one of the harness straps about its bulky body and half turned. The tiny cowled

mummy made one of its startlingly quick leaps and was perched on the underling's shoulder: The

group moved off the platform and along a raised walkway toward the exit door, the armed servitor

bringing up the rear, backing off in short powerful hops, weapon still pointed alertly at Ticos

Cay. The lighting brightened back to normal in the big room.

Ticos watched the three vanish through the door, heard the heavy click of its locks. He drew a

somewhat shaky breath, picked up a boxed device from the worktable and fastened it by its strap to

his belt. It was a complicated instrument through which he controlled temperature, humidity,

radiation absorption levels and various other matters connected with his biological specimens in

different sections of the room.

His hands were unsteady. The interrogation hadn't gone to his liking. Koll wasn't his usual

savagely menacing self and that in spite of some deliberate provocation. He'd made use of the pain-

giver only once. Koll, for Koll, had been affable.

It seemed a bad sign. It indicated that Koll was as confident as he appeared to be that he could

dispel the doubts Ticos was nourishing in the other leading Palachs by proving their prisoner had

misinformed them. And, as a matter of fact, Ticos had totally misinformed them. Over a course of

weeks he'd created a carefully organised structure of lies, half truths and disturbing

insinuations designed to fill the Everliving with the fear of Man, or at any rate with the fear of

Tuvelas. Who, as far as Ticos Cay knew, didn't exist. Sometimes he'd been hard put to remain

consistent, but by now the pattern was so familiar that it held an occasional illusion of truth

even for him.

It had been effective in restricting their plans until now. In spite of Koll, it might remain

effective - but that depended on a large factor of chance. Ticos sighed inaudibly. He'd reduced

the factor as much as possible, but it was still too large. Far too large!

He moved slowly about the room, manipulating the studs of his device now and then, tending to the

needs of the biological specimens. He'd never been able to determine whether he was under visual

observation or not, but it was possible, and he must not appear too concerned. Occasionally he

felt the floor lift and sink under him like the deck of a great ship, and then there would be a

heavy sloshing of seawater in the partitioned end of the room. His communicator was in there. A

permanent post of Oganoon guards was also in there to make sure he didn't get near the

communicator unless the Everliving decided to permit it. And the water covering most of the floor

was there because the guards had to keep their leathery hides wet.

From the energy-screened ventilator window near the ceiling came dim sounds like the muted roaring

of a beast. That and the periodic heaving of the floor were the only indications Ticos had been

given for the past several days that the typhoons still blew outside. . . .

. . . .

Rain squalls veiled half the sea below the aircar It was storm season in the southern latitudes of

Nandy-Cline . . . the horizon loomed blue-black ahead; heavy swirling cloud banks drove across the

ocean to the south. The trim little car bucked suddenly in twisting torrents of air, was hauled

about on its controls and, for the moment, rode steady again along a south- easterly course.

Inside the cabin, Nile Etland stabbed at a set of buttons on the panel communicator, said sharply

into the transmitter, "Giard Pharmaceuticals Station-come in! Nile Etland calling . . . Giard;

come-in!"

She waited a moment; tanned face intent. A hum began in the communicator; rose to a wavering howl,

interspersed with explosive cracklings. Impatiently, Nile spun the filter control right, then

left. Racketing noise erupted along the scale She muttered bitter comment. Her fingers flicked

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over the call buttons picked out another symbol.

"Danrich Parrol -- Nile calling! Come in! Dan, can you hear me? Come in!"

Silence for an instant. Then meaningless sound spat and spluttered again. Nile's lips twisted in

angry frustration. She muted the speaker, glanced down at the animal curled in a thick loop of

richly gleaming brown fur on the floorboards beside her. It lifted a whiskered head, dark eyes

watching Nile.

"Dan?" it asked, in a high thin voice

"No Dan! No anybody!" snapped Nile. "We keep hitting a soup of static anywhere beyond twenty miles

all around."

"Soup?"

"Forget it, Sweeting. We'll try calling the sledmen. Maybe they can help us find Ticos."

"Find Tikkos!" Sweeting agreed. The furred shape shifted, flowed, came upright. Bracing short

sturdy forelegs against the control panel, Sweeting peered at the sections of seascape and sky in

the viewscreens, looked over at Nile. Seven and a half feet in length from nose to the tip of her

muscular tail, she was the smaller of Nile's pair mutant hunting otters. "Where's sledmen?"

"Somewhere ahead." Nile had swung the car fifteen degrees to the east. "Settle down."

The sled she'd sighted in the screens several minutes earlier presently came to view again; now

only a few miles away. The car's magnification scanners showed a five hundred foot floatwood raft

with flattened, streamlined superstructure, riding its runners twelve yards above the surging

seas. The central heavy weather keel was down, knifing through the waves between runners: On a day

of less violence the sled would have been drifting with an illusion of airy lightness over the

water, keel withdrawn, sails spread. Now the masts were hauled flat to the deck, and it was the

set of cannon drives along the sled's edges which sent it rushing toward the moving front of the

storm. The rain-darkened afterdeck was emblazoned with a pair of deep blue triangles-the Blue Guul

symbol of the Sotira Fleet.

As the sled vanished below, the next cloud bank, Nile switched the communicator to ten mile close-

contact band, said into the transmitter, "Dr. Nile Etland of Giard Pharmaceuticals calling Sotira

sled! Acknowledge please!" Close-contact seemed to have stayed operational. And they should know

her by name down there. The Sotira sleds did regular sea-harvest work for Giard.

The communicator said suddenly, "Captain Doncar of Sotira sled acknowledging. Go ahead, Dr.

Etland. . . ."

"I'm in the air behind you," Nile announced. "May I come aboard?"

A moment of silence. Then Doncar's voice said, "If you wish. But we'll be running through heavy

storm in less than fifteen minutes."

"I know -- I don't want to lose you in it."

"Come down immediately then," Doncar advised her. "We'll be ready for you."

They were. Almost be before Nile could climb out of the aircar, half a dozen men in swimming gear

muscular naked backs glistening in the slashing rain, had the small vehicle strapped securely

against the sled's deck beside a plastic- shrouded object which might be an oversized harpoon gun.

It was a disciplined, practiced operation. As they stepped back, a brown-skinned girl, dressed

down for the weather like the crewmen, hurried up from the central row of cabins. She shouted

something almost lost in the din of wind and rain.

Nile turned. "Jath!" "This way; Nile! Before the slop drowns us -"

They sprinted back to the cabins through, the solid downpour. The otter loped easily after them,

given plenty of room by the deck hands. Many of Sweeting's relatives preferred the unhampered

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freedom of Nandy-Cline's ocean to a domesticated life; and the seagoing mutant otters were known

to any sledman at least by reputation. Nothing was gained by asking for trouble with them.

"In here!" Jath hauled open a door, slipped into the cabin behind Nile and the otter and let the

door slam shut. Towels lay ready on a table; she tossed two to Nile, dabbed a third perfunctorily

over her copper skin. Sweeting shook spray from her fur with a twist that spattered half the

cabin. Nile mopped at her dripping coveralls, handed back one of the towels, used the other to dry

hair, face and hands.

"Thanks!"

"Doncar can't get away at the moment," Jath told her: "He asked me to find out what we can do for

you. So-what brings you out in this weather?"

“I'm looking for somebody."

"Here?" There was startled surprise in Jath's voice.

"Dr. Ticos Cay."

A pause "Dr Cay is this area?"

"He might be --" Nile checked momentarily. Jath, in a motion as quick as it was purposeful, had

cupped her right hand to her ear, lowered it again.

They knew each other well enough to make the point of the gesture clear. Someone elsewhere on the

sled was listening to what was being said in the cabin.

Nile gave Jath the briefest of understanding nods. Evidently there was something going on in this

section of the sea which the Sotira sleds regarded as strictly sledman business. She was a

mainlander, though a privileged one. An outsider.

She said; "I had a report from meteorological observers this morning about a major floatwood drift

they'd spotted moving before the typhoons around here. The island Dr. Cay's been camping on could

be part of that drift . . . ."

"You're not sure?"

"I'm not at all sure. I haven't been in touch with him for two months. But the Meral may have

carried him this far south. I've been unable to get in contact with him. He's probably all right

but I've begun to feel worried."

Jath bit her lip, blue-green eyes staring at Nile's forehead. Then she shrugged. "You should be

worried! But if he's on the floatwood thee weather men saw, we wouldn't know it."

"Why not? . . . And why should I be worried?"

floatwood's gromgorru this season. So is the water twenty miles around any island. That's Fleet

word."

Nile hesitated, startled. "When was the word given?"

"Five weeks ago."

Gromgorru . . . Sledman term for bad luck, evil magic. The malignant unknown. Something to be

avoided. And something not discussed, under ordinary circumstances, with mainlanders. Jath's use

of the term was deliberate. It was not likely to please the unseen listeners.

A buzzer sounded. Jath gave Nile a quick wink.

"That's for me." She started for the door, turned again. "We have Venn aboard. They'll want to see

you now."

Alone with Sweeting, Nile scowled uneasily at the closed door. What the gromgorru business in

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connection with the floatwood islands was she couldn't imagine. But if Ticos Cay was in this ocean

area - and her calculations indicated he shouldn't be to far away - she'd better be getting him

out. . . .

Chapter 2

TICOS CAY had showed up unannounced one day at the Giard Pharmaceuticals Station on Nandy-Cline,

to see Nile. He'd been her biochemistry instructor during her final university year on Orado. He

was white-haired stringy, bouncy, tough-minded, something of a genius, something of a crank, and

the best all- around teacher she'd ever encountered. She was delighted to meet him again. Ticos

informed her she was responsible for his presence here.

"In what way?" Nile asked.

"The research you've done on the floatwood.

Nile gave him a questioning look. She'd written over a dozen papers on Nandy-Cline's pelagic

floatwood forests, forever on the move about the watery planet where one narrow continent and the

polar ice massifs represented the only significant barriers to the circling tides of ocean. It was

a subject on which she'd been acquiring first hand information since childhood.

The forests she'd studied most specially rode the great Meral Current down through the equatorial

belt and wheeled with it far to the south. Many returned eventually over the same path, taking

four to ten years to complete the cycle, until at length they were drawn off into other currents.

Unless the polar ice closed about it permanently or it became grounded in mainland shallows, the

floatwood organism seemed to know no natural death. It was an old species, old enough to have

become the home of innumerable other species adjusted in a variety of ways to the climatic changes

encountered in its migrations, and of temporary guests who attached themselves to forests crossing

the ocean zones they frequented, deserting them again or dying as the floatwood moved beyond their

ranges of temperature tolerance.

"It's an interesting subject," she said. "But --"

"You're wondering why I'd make a three weeks trip out here to discuss the subject with you."

"Yes, I am,"

"It isn't all I had in mind," said Ticos "I paid a visit to Giard's Central in Orado City a month

or so ago. I learned, among other things, that there's a shortage of trained field biologists on

Nandy-Cline,"

"That's an understatement," said Nile

"Evidently," Ticos remarked; "it hasn't hampered you too much. Your lab's held in high esteem by

the home office."

"I know. We earn their high esteem by keeping way ahead of the competition. But for every new item

we turn up with an immediate practical application for Giard, there are a thousand out there that

remain unsuspected. The people who work for us are good collectors but they can't do instrument

analysis and wouldn’t know what to look for if they could. They bring in what you tell them to

bring in. I still go out myself when I can, but that's not too often now."

"What's the problem with getting new hire?"'

Nile shrugged. "The obvious one. If a man's a good enough biologist, he has his pick of jobs in

the Hub. He'd probably make more here, but he isn't interested in coming all the way out to Nandy-

Cline to do rough field work. I . . . Ticos, you don't happen to be looking for a job here with

Giard?"

He nodded. "I am, as a matter of fact. I believe I'm qualified, and I have my own analytical

laboratory at the spaceport. Do you think your station manager would consider me?"

Nile blinked. "Parrol will snap you up, of course! . . . But I don't get it. How do you intend to

fit this in with your university work?"

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"I resigned from the university early this year. About the job here - I do have a few conditions."

"What are they?"

"For one thing, I'll limit my work to the floatwood islands."

Why not, Nile thought. Provided they took adequate precautions. He looked in good physical shape,

and she knew he'd been on a number of outworld field trips.

She nodded, said; "We can fit you up with a first-class staff of assistants. Short on scientific

training but long on floatwood experience. Say ten or --"

"Uh-huh! " Ticos shook his head decidedly. "You and I will select an island and I'll set myself up

there alone. That's Condition Two. It's an essential part of the project."

Nile stared at him: The multiformed life supported by the floatwood wasn't abnormally ferocious;

but it existed because it could take care of itself under constantly changing conditions, which

included frequent shifts in the nature of enemies and prey, and in the defensive and offensive

apparatus developed to deal with them For the uninformed human intruder such apparatus could turn

into a wide variety of death traps. Their menace was for the most part as mindlessly impersonal as

quicksand. But that didn't make them any less deadly.

"Ticos Cay," she stated, "you're out of your mind! You wouldn't last! Do you have any idea -"

"I do. I've studied your papers carefully, along with the rather skimpy material that's available

otherwise on the planet's indigenous life. I'm aware there may be serious environmental problems.

We'll discuss them. But solitude is a requirement."

"Why in the world should --"

"From a personal point of view, I'll be involved here primarily in longevity research."

She hesitated, said, "Frankly I don't see the connection." Ticos grunted. "Of course you don't.

I'd better start at the beginning."

"Perhaps you should. Longevity research ..." Nile paused: "Is there some, uh, personal --"

"Is the life I'm interested in extending my own? Definitely. I'm at a point where it requires

careful first-hand attention."

Nile felt startled. Ticos was lean but firmly muscled, agile and unwrinkled. In spite of his white

hair, she hadn't considered him old. He might have been somewhat over sixty and not interested in

cosmetic hormones. "You've begun extension treatments?" she asked.

"Quite a while ago," Ticos said dryly. "How much do you know about the assorted longevity

techniques?"

"I have a general understanding of them, of course. But I've never made a special study of the

subject. Nobody I've known has -" Her voice trailed off again.

"Don't let it embarrass you to be talking to a creaky ancient about it," Ticos said.

She stared at him. "How old are you?"

"Rather close to two hundred standard years. One of the Hub's most senior citizens, I believe. Not

considering, of course, the calendar age of old-timers who resorted to longsleep and are still

around."

Two hundred years was the practical limit to the human biological life span. For a moment Nile

didn't know what to say. She tried to keep shock from showing in her face. But perhaps Ticos

noticed it because he went on quickly, his tone light. "It's curious, you know, that we still

aren't able to do much better along those lines! Of course, during the war centuries there

evidently wasn't much attention given to such impractical lines of research."

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