"The root fault's mine, Mr. Thigpen. I acknowledge it freely. When I heard of Doctor Tornelescu's life catalyst, and that there was a chance you knew its secret, my sense of values went out of balance. I could think of nothing but the possibility that my own brief remaining span could be prolonged. The fact that you faced—certain difficulties—as a result of Tornelescu's untimely death; the detail that you had no desire to come here—I pushed all such to the back of my mind. All I could think of was the one burgeoning reality that Tornelescu had finally isolated the chemical that controlled human aging; and that when this chemical was injected into an older person, it combined with the amino acids of the body to turn back the clock and give a man new youth.
"It was a foolish thing for me to send for you, Mr. Thigpen. I realized that almost as soon as Cheng's ship was out of sight. But by then, it was too late to try to stop him, so all I have left to fall back on now are apologies."
"Apologies?" Ross clipped. "It seems to me there's a small matter of damages, also."
"Of course, Mr. Thigpen!" Mawson was almost too eager. "Would fifty thousand satisfy you?"
"Fifty thousand—!"
"It's done, then. That is, if you have a writer you can lend me."
Wordless, Ross handed the adjudicator the slim tube; received it back again with a signed form.
"Now we'll take you on into the city and find you quarters," Mawson chortled. "Come. There's a transor over on the edge of the ramping area."
A woman's voice from the outer darkness said, "Surely you'll not let him go before you introduce us, Pike." Her tone was syrupy, with shadings of coy reproach.
"No, of course not." Mawson's pale face grew unhappy. "Mr. Thigpen, allow me to present the most famous woman of our time: the one and only Astrell."