The Spokesman waited for Everson, and as became the representative of an inferior race, the latter bowed humbly and said, "Greetings."
"Greetings. We have heard excellent reports of you."
"I have tried to carry out all that I promised."
"You have done even better than we expected. When do you think the surrender will be complete?"
He made a rapid mental calculation.
"In thirty-seven Large Vibration Units."
With no permanent sun of their own, the Hops based their time standards on the frequency of atomic vibrations. The thirty-seven Large Units were equivalent to about thirty hours. By that time, all the planned surrenders would have gone through on schedule, and the human race would be at the mercy of the Hops.
"We congratulate you on your fidelity to your word. You shall receive a suitable reward."
What, he wondered, did they regard as "suitable"? To kill him first, after they had no further use for him, and thus to spare him the sight of the extermination of his race? Or to keep him alive until the bitter end, to grant him a few extra hours of painful existence, in return for an act of betrayal on so grand a scale that their own history had never seen its like?
He couldn't possibly guess, but he said simply, and still humbly, "I await your generous gift."