“It’s an ingenious theory,” grinned Stormgren. “But It clashes with what little I know — or think I know — about Karellen’s background.”
“And how much is that?”
“Well, he often refers to his position here as something temporary, hindering him from getting on with his real work, which I think is some form of mathematics. Once I mentioned Acton’s quotation about power corrupting, and absolute power corrupting absolutely. I wanted to see how he’d react to that. He gave that cavernous laugh of his, and said: There’s no danger of that happening to me. In the first case, the sooner I finish my work here, the sooner I can get back to where I belong, a good many light-years from here. And secondly, I don’t have absolute power, by any means. I’m just — Supervisor. Of course, he may have been misleading me. I can never be sure of that.”
“He’s immortal isn’t he?”
“Yes, by our standards, though there’s something in the future he seems to fear: I can’t imagine what it is. And that’s really all I know about him.”
“It isn’t very conclusive. My theory is that his little fleet’s lost in space and is looking for a new home. He doesn’t want us to know how few he and his comrades are. Perhaps all those other ships are automatic, and there’s no one in any of them. They’re just an imposing facade.”
“You,” said Stormgren, “have been reading too much science-fiction.” Van Ryberg grinned, a little sheepishly.
“The Invasion From Space’ didn’t turn out quite as expected, did it? My theory would certainly explain why Karellen never shows himself. He doesn’t want us to learn that there aren’t any more Overlords.”
Stormgren shook his head in amused disagreement.
“Your explanation, as usual, is much too ingenious to be true. Though we can only infer its existence, there must be a great civilization behind the Supervisor — and one that’s known about man for a very long time. Karellen himself must have been studying us for centuries. Look at his command of English, for example. He taught me how to speak it idiomatically!”