"So you don't understand," he said. "Well, you have plenty of time to learn after we treat about five rim worlds. We'll be practical about it and let you learn about lightspeed and time stasis the normal way—in a spaceship!"
"No," I said.
"But you can't turn me down," he protested. "I thought you understood. People need you—need you badly. Our others can modify a little but they can't convince. It takes a hundred of them to even begin to cover a world—and there aren't very many hopeful worlds left. We have to hold the line or humanity will breed itself into extinction."
"I am still your prisoner," I said, luxuriating in the first real weakness I had found in him. "You might as well know that I still oppose you. I don't believe you. You are Evil and Evil has a smooth tongue—Zard said it long ago, and it is still the truth."
Wolverton groaned.
"Nor will I help you!"
Anger flowed from him. "You stupid fool!" he blazed. "Do you think I'd ask you to do anything for me? His rage struck me like a blow. I'm telling you—not asking. You will do something for your race—something you can do, or so help me God, I'll condition everything out of you except your superstitious prejudices and maroon you on Samar!"
He meant what he said. His anger was a true anger—and he had spoken the Name we all knew yet did not speak aloud. And he was not struck down. I was confused and upset. I shivered with a fear that was as icy as the River of the Dead. There was something wrong here—something I could not understand. Then I saw the light.
"I will bargain with you," I said. Zard's plan was becoming clear. "I will join you in good faith."
"With what reservations?"