Read Online Doctor Who: The Leisure Hive by David Fisher - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: David Fisher
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Even an unreliable one, come to that. People will clutch at any straw.'
'It's too soon to know how efficient my technique is,' objected Hardin. 'My research is only in its early stages: there's a long way to go yet.'
You don't know how far, he thought.
Brock dismissed the scientist's objections with a wave of his hand. 'Doesn't matter,' he observed. 'No one in 'heir right mind hopes to stay young for ever. Or even wants to. What they'd like is to be able to turn back the clock a bit when they get to middle age. They'll pay through the nose for some machine that will peel off a few years.'
'The Argolin need more than that.'
Brock lowered his voice. 'We all know what the Argolin need,' he murmured in Hardin's ear. 'But it doesn't mean they'll get it. Could be their metabolism's been speeded up so much that your technique won't work on them.'
'It's not been properly tested yet,' objected Hardin. 'Nobody knows what will happen.'
'Exactly what I'm saying,' declared Brock. 'Isn't that right, Klout?'
Klout did not reply.
Hardin realized that he had never heard him speak.
'If your technique doesn't work on the Argolin, which Heaven forbid,' Brock added piously, 'then we must make sure that your great discovery isn't lost to science for ever. That would be a tragedy.'
Brock's breath was on his cheek. It smelt sweet and faintly chemical.
'All I'm saying,' he continued, 'is that you ought to consider taking on a business partner. Someone who would look after your interests while you concentrated on your work. Someone who would see to it that all mankind reaped the benefit of your genius. Or any kind of kind, come to that. After all there are probably a hundred different intelligent life forms in the galaxy, many of them with access to galactic credits on a large scale. You follow me?'
I'm way ahead of you, thought Hardin.
'Think about it,' said Brock 'that's all I ask.'
He clapped the scientist on the shoulder, then he and his ever-silent lawyer departed.
Hardin turned to Stimson, his face a picture of despair. 'What are we going to do?' he cried.
'Proceed as planned,' replied the other.
It had all seemed so easy when Stimson had approached him on Terra, thought Hardin. He had spent years working on tachyonics. He had even reached a point when he had believed he was on the verge of a great scientific breakthrough, in the laboratory he had several times been able to arrest the flow of time in an experimental organism. Once he had kept a Mayfly alive for three months. Once he had even succeeded in reversing the flow of Time, so that a chicken had been regressed into an egg. But on each and every occasion something had gone wrong. The Mayfly when released had disintegrated into a shower of dust; the egg when opened had disclosed a dead and deformed embryo.
He had been on the verge of giving up his research when Stimson had come to see him at his laboratory. At first he, had been flattering about his work and sympathetic that it was haunted by failure.
'All you need,' Stimson had said, 'is finance. A big grant to complete your experiments. Look at this laboratory. Second-hand equipment. No proper facilities. No wonder you haven't succeeded in making a breakthrough.'
The man's words had been balm to Hardin's pride. Nevertheless he had tried to be realistic. 'These days no one will back tachyon experiments,' he had pointed out. 'The tachyon is the Cinderella of subatomic particles. A scientific freak. You can prove its existence, but for well over a century no one has found any use for it.'
'Until you,' said Stimson. 'And the Argolin, of course.'
Stimson had arranged it all. He had contacted Morix, Heresiarch of Argolis, Chairman of Argolis Leisure Planet Inc., who had shown a flattering interest in the experiments. Hardin's confidence in his work began to blossom. Morix had even suggested sending his consort to Terra to act as observer.
'We have to keep them interested until you can sort out the bugs in your
'It's too soon to know how efficient my technique is,' objected Hardin. 'My research is only in its early stages: there's a long way to go yet.'
You don't know how far, he thought.
Brock dismissed the scientist's objections with a wave of his hand. 'Doesn't matter,' he observed. 'No one in 'heir right mind hopes to stay young for ever. Or even wants to. What they'd like is to be able to turn back the clock a bit when they get to middle age. They'll pay through the nose for some machine that will peel off a few years.'
'The Argolin need more than that.'
Brock lowered his voice. 'We all know what the Argolin need,' he murmured in Hardin's ear. 'But it doesn't mean they'll get it. Could be their metabolism's been speeded up so much that your technique won't work on them.'
'It's not been properly tested yet,' objected Hardin. 'Nobody knows what will happen.'
'Exactly what I'm saying,' declared Brock. 'Isn't that right, Klout?'
Klout did not reply.
Hardin realized that he had never heard him speak.
'If your technique doesn't work on the Argolin, which Heaven forbid,' Brock added piously, 'then we must make sure that your great discovery isn't lost to science for ever. That would be a tragedy.'
Brock's breath was on his cheek. It smelt sweet and faintly chemical.
'All I'm saying,' he continued, 'is that you ought to consider taking on a business partner. Someone who would look after your interests while you concentrated on your work. Someone who would see to it that all mankind reaped the benefit of your genius. Or any kind of kind, come to that. After all there are probably a hundred different intelligent life forms in the galaxy, many of them with access to galactic credits on a large scale. You follow me?'
I'm way ahead of you, thought Hardin.
'Think about it,' said Brock 'that's all I ask.'
He clapped the scientist on the shoulder, then he and his ever-silent lawyer departed.
Hardin turned to Stimson, his face a picture of despair. 'What are we going to do?' he cried.
'Proceed as planned,' replied the other.
It had all seemed so easy when Stimson had approached him on Terra, thought Hardin. He had spent years working on tachyonics. He had even reached a point when he had believed he was on the verge of a great scientific breakthrough, in the laboratory he had several times been able to arrest the flow of time in an experimental organism. Once he had kept a Mayfly alive for three months. Once he had even succeeded in reversing the flow of Time, so that a chicken had been regressed into an egg. But on each and every occasion something had gone wrong. The Mayfly when released had disintegrated into a shower of dust; the egg when opened had disclosed a dead and deformed embryo.
He had been on the verge of giving up his research when Stimson had come to see him at his laboratory. At first he, had been flattering about his work and sympathetic that it was haunted by failure.
'All you need,' Stimson had said, 'is finance. A big grant to complete your experiments. Look at this laboratory. Second-hand equipment. No proper facilities. No wonder you haven't succeeded in making a breakthrough.'
The man's words had been balm to Hardin's pride. Nevertheless he had tried to be realistic. 'These days no one will back tachyon experiments,' he had pointed out. 'The tachyon is the Cinderella of subatomic particles. A scientific freak. You can prove its existence, but for well over a century no one has found any use for it.'
'Until you,' said Stimson. 'And the Argolin, of course.'
Stimson had arranged it all. He had contacted Morix, Heresiarch of Argolis, Chairman of Argolis Leisure Planet Inc., who had shown a flattering interest in the experiments. Hardin's confidence in his work began to blossom. Morix had even suggested sending his consort to Terra to act as observer.
'We have to keep them interested until you can sort out the bugs in your
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