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Authors: Stephen Coonts
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muttered. He liked plain talk, probably because he heard so little of it.
The television picture went blank; the network turned the show over to the hot babes in the studio. The president hit the mute button on his remote.
“What do you think?” he asked P. J. O’Reilly.
The chief of staff rubbed his hands together. “Can you imagine the political windfall that will settle on the party that can deliver a Fountain of Youth drug to the American people? Such a drug might even lead to the demise of the two-party system.”
A vision of his political enemies being swept from office passed before the president’s eyes. The moment was almost orgasmic. Then reality reared its ugly head.
“Medicare and Social Security will bankrupt the nation,” he said bitterly.
“We can raise the retirement age to a hundred,” O’Reilly shot back. “Or two hundred.”
The president regarded his chief of staff with a jaundiced eye. The man was a fool, no question, but most politicians were. The president wished he had had the good sense all those years ago to join his father in the hardware business.
* * *
When the drug czars and television people had at last disappeared up the driveway, Egg went after Adam Solo, who was still in the kitchen seated on a stool at the counter.
“Who,” he asked deliberately, “are you ?”
“I’m a saucer pilot,” Solo answered.
“That phrase has a certain cachet, I must admit,” Egg acknowledged. “When did you arrive?”
“I’m not quite sure,” Solo replied, the amusement evident in his voice.
“When?” This time it was Rip who asked the question.
“Just a few minutes before I saw you in the hangar.”
“No. When did you arrive on earth? The first time.”
Solo finished his soft drink, got off the stool and took the can over to the trash bag under the sink.
When he had disposed of the can, Solo turned his back to the kitchen counter and leaned against it. Rip, Charley and Egg were giving him their full attention.
“I am marooned here on this planet, and I need your help.”
“No doubt,” Rip shot back, “but first you must answer our questions. When did you arrive here on earth?”
Solo took a very deep breath, then exhaled slowly. When the air was gone, he said, “A long time ago.”
“So where is your ship?” Charley asked.
Solo shrugged. “Destroyed, probably. One of my colleagues went mad on the voyage here. After he dropped the team, he stole our saucer and took off. We watched him until he was out of sight. I assume that he flew it into the sun. Or tried to fly home, which would have been a physical impossibility in that ship. In any event, he has been gone for a thousand years. He has never returned. I doubt if he ever will.”
5
Rip, Charley and Uncle Egg each suspected that Adam Solo had a very interesting story, but the thousand-year number left them stunned.
As usual, Rip recovered first. “What about the starship that delivered you?”
“It didn’t return either.”
“If that thousand-year number gets out,” Rip said to Solo, “your life won’t be worth a paper dollar.”
Solo nodded. “They won’t believe a word I say; they’ll kill me and do an autopsy.”
Charley groaned. “Surely not.”
“Oh, yes,” Egg said grimly.
Solo’s lips twisted into a grimace. “I’ve been in tighter spots. Three hundred and some odd years ago in Massachusetts, Samuel Parris decided I was a male witch. That was a close squeak.”
Egg seated himself on a stool at the kitchen counter, which he rarely did because the round seat was too small for his fundament. “Convince us you are telling the truth,” he said flatly. “Tell us why you are here on this planet.”
Solo glanced from face to face, then said, “I am a librarian. This planet is a giant DNA library. My colleagues and I came to check the library, to make deposits and withdrawals, as we do from time to time, and to take DNA samples from plants and
The television picture went blank; the network turned the show over to the hot babes in the studio. The president hit the mute button on his remote.
“What do you think?” he asked P. J. O’Reilly.
The chief of staff rubbed his hands together. “Can you imagine the political windfall that will settle on the party that can deliver a Fountain of Youth drug to the American people? Such a drug might even lead to the demise of the two-party system.”
A vision of his political enemies being swept from office passed before the president’s eyes. The moment was almost orgasmic. Then reality reared its ugly head.
“Medicare and Social Security will bankrupt the nation,” he said bitterly.
“We can raise the retirement age to a hundred,” O’Reilly shot back. “Or two hundred.”
The president regarded his chief of staff with a jaundiced eye. The man was a fool, no question, but most politicians were. The president wished he had had the good sense all those years ago to join his father in the hardware business.
* * *
When the drug czars and television people had at last disappeared up the driveway, Egg went after Adam Solo, who was still in the kitchen seated on a stool at the counter.
“Who,” he asked deliberately, “are you ?”
“I’m a saucer pilot,” Solo answered.
“That phrase has a certain cachet, I must admit,” Egg acknowledged. “When did you arrive?”
“I’m not quite sure,” Solo replied, the amusement evident in his voice.
“When?” This time it was Rip who asked the question.
“Just a few minutes before I saw you in the hangar.”
“No. When did you arrive on earth? The first time.”
Solo finished his soft drink, got off the stool and took the can over to the trash bag under the sink.
When he had disposed of the can, Solo turned his back to the kitchen counter and leaned against it. Rip, Charley and Egg were giving him their full attention.
“I am marooned here on this planet, and I need your help.”
“No doubt,” Rip shot back, “but first you must answer our questions. When did you arrive here on earth?”
Solo took a very deep breath, then exhaled slowly. When the air was gone, he said, “A long time ago.”
“So where is your ship?” Charley asked.
Solo shrugged. “Destroyed, probably. One of my colleagues went mad on the voyage here. After he dropped the team, he stole our saucer and took off. We watched him until he was out of sight. I assume that he flew it into the sun. Or tried to fly home, which would have been a physical impossibility in that ship. In any event, he has been gone for a thousand years. He has never returned. I doubt if he ever will.”
5
Rip, Charley and Uncle Egg each suspected that Adam Solo had a very interesting story, but the thousand-year number left them stunned.
As usual, Rip recovered first. “What about the starship that delivered you?”
“It didn’t return either.”
“If that thousand-year number gets out,” Rip said to Solo, “your life won’t be worth a paper dollar.”
Solo nodded. “They won’t believe a word I say; they’ll kill me and do an autopsy.”
Charley groaned. “Surely not.”
“Oh, yes,” Egg said grimly.
Solo’s lips twisted into a grimace. “I’ve been in tighter spots. Three hundred and some odd years ago in Massachusetts, Samuel Parris decided I was a male witch. That was a close squeak.”
Egg seated himself on a stool at the kitchen counter, which he rarely did because the round seat was too small for his fundament. “Convince us you are telling the truth,” he said flatly. “Tell us why you are here on this planet.”
Solo glanced from face to face, then said, “I am a librarian. This planet is a giant DNA library. My colleagues and I came to check the library, to make deposits and withdrawals, as we do from time to time, and to take DNA samples from plants and
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