shoulders. Surprised at the unexpected physical contact with someone from a race as noted for their reserve as the Argolin were, Brock recoiled. Pangol laughed. 'Don't worry, my friend,' he continued, 'you won't be expected to undergo any painful initiation ceremonies.'
'Pangol, is this wise?' asked Mena.
Pangol ignored her.
'After the Foamasi War,' he said, 'the Argolin knew they were doomed to extinction within a generation. Unless they could find some other way of reproducing themselves. As you know, virtually the only Argolin survivors of the War were all members of the crew of Morix's hyperspace war galley.'
'I was communications officer,' said Mena.
'The scientific officer aboard
The Rage of Theron -
that was the name of Morix's ship-was called Verdrix,' went on Pangol. 'He devoted himself to the problem of the survival of our race. His answer was the generator.'
'What happened to him?' asked Brock.
'He died,' replied Mena. 'He was the first of the Argolin to age.'
'But he had completed the generator,' said Pangol. 'So twenty-six years ago the Argolin were at last ready for the great experiment.'
Mena spoke. Her voice was feeble but clear. Her eyes looked inwards, fixed only on the past. 'None of us will ever forget that day. For the first time it seemed as if a great dark cloud was lifting from us. It seemed as if once again the voice of our young would be heard on Argolis.'
'The Argolin,' explained Pangol, 'and there were many more of them then than there are today, the Argolin donated living cells from their own bodies. Thousands of cells. They placed them in the generator. The aim was to clone them. The cloned cells would then be incubated, fed on nutrients, until they became embryos and ultimately foetuses.'
Brock looked puzzled. ' Where are these clones?' he asked. 'What happened to them?'
Pangol did not reply at first. Then he said: 'The tachyon is an inherently unstable particle. At that time no one realized how unstable it was.'
'What about the cloning?' demanded Brock.
'There were many failures.'
'I don't understand.' Brock turned to Mena. 'What does he mean?'
Mena sighed. 'Poor, dead, disfigured creatures.'
'Mutants most of them, I imagine,' said Pangol. 'Few survived birth. Those that did were usually better off dead.'
'What about you, Pangol?'
'I was the sole survivor,' replied the young Argolin. 'The generator made me. The generator gave birth to me. I am the Child of the Generator.'
As he spoke, he switched the boardroom video screens to the Great Recreation Hall. All cameras covered the shining black bulk of the generator. One of them picked up an all-too-familiar figure. Bent, white haired, the Doctor could be seen at the computer control console.
Pangol reacted immediately.
'What's he doing there?' he cried. He pressed the alarm button and ran from the boardroom.
When the alarm sounded in the Great Recreation Hall, Hardin half dragged the Doctor away from the generator.
'But Romana's in there,' protested the Doctor.
'If the Argolin see us hanging around, they'll figure that out for themselves,' snapped Hardin.
Whether it was the logic of his argument or the fact that for one terrible moment he could not remember who Romana was, the Doctor allowed Hardin to lead him over to the elevator which took them down to the laboratory. It was fortunate that he did so-because just as the elevator doors closed behind them, Pangol, followed by a group of Security guides, entered the Hall.
On the order from Pangol the guides split up to search every corner of the Great Hall. 'Find them!' he cried. 'The Doctor. The girl. Hardin. I want them found.'
Afraid that the Doctor might have sabotaged the computer of the generator, Pangol went over to check it for himself. He punched out his instructions. On the diagnostic panel flashed the words: SECURITY. STATUS UP-DATE.
Pangol waited. 'Did you see anyone go into the generator?' he asked the maintenance man.
'No, sir.'
'All the same someone did
'Pangol, is this wise?' asked Mena.
Pangol ignored her.
'After the Foamasi War,' he said, 'the Argolin knew they were doomed to extinction within a generation. Unless they could find some other way of reproducing themselves. As you know, virtually the only Argolin survivors of the War were all members of the crew of Morix's hyperspace war galley.'
'I was communications officer,' said Mena.
'The scientific officer aboard
The Rage of Theron -
that was the name of Morix's ship-was called Verdrix,' went on Pangol. 'He devoted himself to the problem of the survival of our race. His answer was the generator.'
'What happened to him?' asked Brock.
'He died,' replied Mena. 'He was the first of the Argolin to age.'
'But he had completed the generator,' said Pangol. 'So twenty-six years ago the Argolin were at last ready for the great experiment.'
Mena spoke. Her voice was feeble but clear. Her eyes looked inwards, fixed only on the past. 'None of us will ever forget that day. For the first time it seemed as if a great dark cloud was lifting from us. It seemed as if once again the voice of our young would be heard on Argolis.'
'The Argolin,' explained Pangol, 'and there were many more of them then than there are today, the Argolin donated living cells from their own bodies. Thousands of cells. They placed them in the generator. The aim was to clone them. The cloned cells would then be incubated, fed on nutrients, until they became embryos and ultimately foetuses.'
Brock looked puzzled. ' Where are these clones?' he asked. 'What happened to them?'
Pangol did not reply at first. Then he said: 'The tachyon is an inherently unstable particle. At that time no one realized how unstable it was.'
'What about the cloning?' demanded Brock.
'There were many failures.'
'I don't understand.' Brock turned to Mena. 'What does he mean?'
Mena sighed. 'Poor, dead, disfigured creatures.'
'Mutants most of them, I imagine,' said Pangol. 'Few survived birth. Those that did were usually better off dead.'
'What about you, Pangol?'
'I was the sole survivor,' replied the young Argolin. 'The generator made me. The generator gave birth to me. I am the Child of the Generator.'
As he spoke, he switched the boardroom video screens to the Great Recreation Hall. All cameras covered the shining black bulk of the generator. One of them picked up an all-too-familiar figure. Bent, white haired, the Doctor could be seen at the computer control console.
Pangol reacted immediately.
'What's he doing there?' he cried. He pressed the alarm button and ran from the boardroom.
When the alarm sounded in the Great Recreation Hall, Hardin half dragged the Doctor away from the generator.
'But Romana's in there,' protested the Doctor.
'If the Argolin see us hanging around, they'll figure that out for themselves,' snapped Hardin.
Whether it was the logic of his argument or the fact that for one terrible moment he could not remember who Romana was, the Doctor allowed Hardin to lead him over to the elevator which took them down to the laboratory. It was fortunate that he did so-because just as the elevator doors closed behind them, Pangol, followed by a group of Security guides, entered the Hall.
On the order from Pangol the guides split up to search every corner of the Great Hall. 'Find them!' he cried. 'The Doctor. The girl. Hardin. I want them found.'
Afraid that the Doctor might have sabotaged the computer of the generator, Pangol went over to check it for himself. He punched out his instructions. On the diagnostic panel flashed the words: SECURITY. STATUS UP-DATE.
Pangol waited. 'Did you see anyone go into the generator?' he asked the maintenance man.
'No, sir.'
'All the same someone did
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