"If you wish, others of my race shall come, too. But if you do not want them to come, they will not. I alone have Tharlano"s photographs of the route, and I can lose them."
For a moment, the Three spoke together, then the Scientist was again thinking at Arcot.
"Perhaps you are right. It is obvious your people know more than we.
They have the molecular ray, and they know no wars; they do not destroy each other. They must be a good race, and we have seen excellent examples in you.
"We can realize your desire to return home, but we ask you to come again. We will remember that you are not ten million light years, but five days, from our planet."
When the conference was ended, Arcot and his friends returned to their ship. Torlos was waiting for them outside the airlock.
"Abaout haow saon you laive?" he asked in English.
"Why--tomorrow," Arcot said, in surprise. "Have you been practicing our language?"
Torlos reverted to telepathy. "Yes, but that is not what I came to talk to you about. Arcot--can a man of Nansal visit Earth?" Anxiously, hopefully, and hesitatingly, he asked. "I could come back on one of your commercial vessels, or come back when you return. And--and I"m sure I could earn my living on your world! I"m not hard to feed, you know!" He half smiled, but he was too much in earnest to make a perfect success.
Arcot was amazed that he should ask. It was an idea he would very much like to see fulfilled. The idea of metal-boned men with tremendous strength and strange molecular-motion muscles would inspire no friendship, no feeling of kinship, in the people of Earth. But the man himself--a pleasant, kindly, sincere, intelligent giant--would be a far greater argument for the world of Nansal that the most vivid orator would ever be.
Arcot asked the others, and the vote was unanimous--let him come!
The next day, amid great ceremony, the first of the new Nansalian ships came from the factories. When the celebration was over, the four Earthmen and the giant Torlos entered the _Ancient Mariner_.
"Ready to go, Torlos?" Arcot grinned.
"Pearfactly, Ahcut. Tse soonah tse bettah!" he said in his oddly accented English.
Five hours saw them out of the galaxy. Twelve hours more, and they were heading for home at full speed, well out in s.p.a.ce.
The Home Galaxy was looming large when they next stopped for observation. Old Tharlano had guided them correctly!
They were going home!