re
dying out. They were, weren't they?"

"Yes, sir. Their numbers became fewer and fewer each century."

"I was sure of it. They were committing race suicide by letting you
Omans do everything they themselves should have been doing. Finally they
saw the truth. In a desperate effort to save their race they pulled out,
leaving you here. Probably they intended to come back when they had bred
enough guts back into themselves to set you Omans down where you
belong...."

"But _they_ were always the Masters, sir!"

"They were not! They were hopelessly enslaved. Think it over. Anyway,
say they went _to_ Terra from here. That still accounts for the legends
and so on. However, they were too far gone to make a recovery, and yet
they had enough fixity of purpose _not_ to manufacture any of you Omans
there. So their descendants went a long way down the scale before they
began to work back up. Does that make sense to you?"

* * * * *

"It explains many things, sir. It can very well be the truth."

"Okay. However it was, we're here, and facing a condition that isn't
funny. While we were teamed up I learned a lot, but not nearly enough.
Am I right in thinking that I now don't need the other seven at
all--that my cells are fully charged and I can go it alone?"

"Probably, sir, but ..."

"I'm coming to that. Every time I do it--up to maximum performance, of
course--it comes easier and faster and hits harder. So next time, or
maybe the fourth or fifth time, it'll kill me. And the other seven, too,
if they're along."

"I'm not sure, sir, but I think so."

"Nice. Very, _very_ nice." Hilton got up, shoved both hands into his
pockets, and prowled about the room. "But can't the damned stuff be
controlled? Choked--throttled down--damped--muzzled, some way or other?"

"We do not know of any way, sir. The Masters were always working toward
more power, not less."

"That makes sense. The more power the better, as long as you can handle
it. But I can't handle this. And neither can the team. So how about
organizing another team, one that hasn't got quite so much whammo?
Enough punch to do the job, but not enough to backfire that way?"

"It is highly improbable that such a team is possible, sir." If an Oman
could be acutely embarrassed, Larry was. "That is, sir ... I should tell
you, sir ..."

"You certainly should. You've been stalling all along, and now you're
stalled. Spill it."

"Yes, sir. The Tu