The head of the Freedom League listened carefully while the draft was read to him. Stormgren hoped he appreciated this gesture, which had been Karellen’s idea. Not for another twelve hours would the rest of the world know of the promise that had been made to its grandchildren.
“Fifty years,” said Wainwright thoughtfully. “That is a long time to wait.”
“For mankind, perhaps, but not for Karellen,” Stormgren answered. Only now was he beginning to realize the nearness of the Overlords’ solution. It had given them the breathing space they believed they needed, and it had cut the ground from beneath the Freedom League’s feet. He did not imagine that the League would capitulate, but its position would be seriously weakened. Certainly Wainwright realized this as well.
“In fifty years,” he said bitterly, “the damage will be done. Those who remembered our independence will be dead: humanity will have forgotten its heritage.”
Words — empty words, thought Stormgren. The words for which men had once fought and died, and for which they would never die or fight again. And the world would be better for it.
As he watched Wainwright leave, Stormgren wondered how much trouble the Freedom League would still cause in the years that lay ahead. Yet that, he thought with a lifting of his spirits, was a problem for his successor.
There were some things that only time could cure. Evil men could be destroyed, but nothing could be done with good men who were deluded.
“Here’s your case,” said Duval. “It’s as good as new.”
“Thanks,” Stormgren answered, inspecting it carefully none the less. “Now perhaps you’ll tell me what it was all about, and what we are going to do next.”
The physicist seemed more interested in his own thoughts.