Turning back to Pete, Tommy rubbed his hands eagerly. "It's starting to sell, boy. I don't know how strong or how good, but it's starting to sell! With the tolerance levels to tell us how long we can expect this program to quiet things down, we can give Charlie a deadline to crack his differential factor, or it's the ax for Charlie." He chuckled to himself, and paced the room in an overflow of nervous energy. "I can see it now. Open shafts instead of elevators. A quick hop to Honolulu for an afternoon on the beach, and back in time for supper. A hundred miles to the gallon for the Sunday driver. When people begin _seeing_ what the Grdznth are giving us, they'll welcome them with open arms." "Hmmm," said Pete. "Well, why won't they? The people just didn't trust us, that was all. What does the man in the street know about transmatters? Nothing. But give him one, and then try to take it away." "Sure, sure," said Pete. "It sounds great. Just a little bit _too_ great." Tommy blinked at him. "Too great? Are you crazy?" "Not crazy. Just getting nervous." Pete jammed his hands into his pockets. "Do you realize where _we're_ standing in this thing? We're out on a limb--way out. We're fighting for time--time for Charlie and his gang to crack the puzzle, time for the Grdznth girls to gestate. But what are we hearing from Charlie?" "Pete, Charlie can't just--" "That's right," said Pete. "_Nothing_ is what we're hearing from Charlie. We've got no transmatter, no null-G, no power, nothing except a whole lot of Grdznth and more coming through just as fast as they can. I'm beginning to wonder what the Grdznth _are_ giving us." "Well, they can't gestate forever." "Maybe not, but I still have a burning desire to talk to Charlie. Something tells me they're going to be gestating a little too long." They put through the call, but Charlie wasn't answering. "Sorry," the operator said. "Nobody's gotten through there for three days." "Three days?" cried Tommy. "What's wrong? Is he dead?" "Couldn't be. They burned out two more machines yesterday," said the operator. "Killed the switchboard for twenty minutes." "Get him on the wire," Tommy said. "That's orders." "Yes, sir. But first they want you in Analysis." Analysis was a shambles. Paper and tape piled knee-deep on the floor. The machines clattered wildly, coughing out reams of paper to be gulped up by other machines. In a corner office they found the Analysis man, pale but jubilant. "The Program," Tommy said. "How's it going?" "You can count on the people staying happy for at least another five months." Analysis hesitated an instant. "If they see some baby Grdznth at the end of it all." There was dead silence in the room. "Baby Grdznth," Tommy said finally. "That's what I said. That's what the people are buying. That's what they'd better get." Tommy swallowed hard. "And if it happens to be six months?" Analysis drew a finger across his throat.