"Don't tell me you've finally gotten sick of killing people," she said quietly.
"No doubt it runs into hundreds," Stan said sarcastically. "I suppose any day now the apes will be getting suspicious."
She shook her head, bitterly. "Not—they won't. It happens all the time. People die in lonely little rooms, people have accidents, people commit suicide. Or so the Terrans think. They never seem to look beyond."
"You forget," Stan pointed out. "We've lost men, too. And I'm sure that not all of them died from natural causes."
"Who have you lost, Martin? Thieves, dope peddlers, murderers, and worse? And what have I lost? Patriots, scientists, statesmen—the few who understand and believe and are willing to work with me."
Stan shrugged impatiently. "You said I had taken a long time in getting here. I suppose you planned it that way."
She looked surprised. "Why else do you think we stole the fusion packages? Just to keep you from replacing them? The Thuscans can supply you with all the packages you need. We wanted to give you something by which you could trace me."
"It's a wonder you weren't killed before this."
A half smile broke the granite lines of her face. "Nobody but you would have gotten this far, Martin."
"So you got me here. What do you want?"