The
Dwindling
Years
He didn’t expect to be last—butneither did he anticipatethe horror of being the first!
NEARLY TWO hundredyears of habit carried thechairman of Exodus Corporationthrough the morning ritualof crossing the executivefloor. Giles made the expectedcomments, smiled the propersmiles and greeted his staff bythe right names, but it was purelyautomatic. Somehow, thinkinghad grown difficult in the morningsrecently.
Inside his private office, hedropped all pretense and slumpedinto the padding of his chair, gaspingfor breath and feeling hisheart hammering in his chest.He’d been a fool to come to work,he realized. But with the Procyonshuttle arriving yesterday, therewas no telling what might turnup. Besides, that fool of a medicisthad sworn the shot wouldcure any allergy or asthma.
Giles heard his secretary comein, but it wasn’t until the smellof the coffee reached his nosethat he looked up. She handedhim a filled cup and set the carafedown on the age-polished surfaceof the big desk. She watchedsolicitously as he drank.
“That bad, Arthur?” she asked.
“Just a little tired,” he toldher, refilling the cup. She’d madethe coffee stronger than usualand it seemed to cut throughsome of the thickness in his head.“I guess I’m getting old, Amanda.”
She smiled dutifully at thetime-worn joke, but he knew shewasn’t fooled. She’d cycled tomiddle age four times in herjob and she probably knew himbetter than he knew himself—whichwouldn’t be hard, hethought. He’d hardly recognizedthe stranger in the mirror as hetried to shave. His normal thinnesshad looked almost gauntand there were hollows in hisface and circles under his eyes.Even his hair had seemed thinner,though that, of course, wasimpossible.
“Anything urgent on the Procyonshuttle?” he asked as shecontinue staring at him with worriedeyes.
SHE JERKED her gaze awayguiltily and turned to the incomingbasket. “Mostly drugs forexperimenting. A personal letterfor you, relayed from some placeI never heard of. And one of thesuper-light missiles! They foundit drifting half a light-year outand captured it. Jordan’s got areport on it and he’s going crazy.But if you don’t feel well—”
“I’m all right!” he told hersharply. Then he steadied himselfand managed to smile. “Thanksfor the coffee, Amanda.”
She accepted dismissal reluctantly.When she was gone, hesat gazing at the report from Jordanat Research.
For eighty years now, they’dbeen sending out the little shipsthat vanished at greater than thespeed of light, equipped withevery conceivable device to makethem return automatically aftertaking pictures of wherever theyarrived. So far, none had ever returnedor been located. This wasthe first hope they’d found thatthe century-long trips betweenstars in the pon