Ross could only blink and squint against the glare. The voice from the darkness kept on talking: "You understand, of course, that Japetus has few visitors. At best, it's small and isolated. So, as adjudicator, I take it as my duty to show our little world's appreciation...." Talk and more talk, mellow and meaningless. Yet somehow, now, a strange note of uncertainty had crept into the speaker's voice. It was as if, suddenly, an initial planned strategy had been shattered, with the result that for the moment he must feel his way and play by ear. Then, abruptly, that too changed. "You men there!" the speaker cried, "where are your manners? Get those lights out of the gentleman's eyes! Or at least spread them so we all can see each other." Instantly, the beam that pinned Ross broadened. With a faint _whish_, a grav-seat dropped from the night to a landing close beside him. Flipping a switch, its occupant held out a hand. "I'm Pike Mawson, sir. Adjudicator for this satellite. Forgive me for not rising, but a blaster-bolt some years ago made that a painful and rather involved process for me." Ross ignored the extended hand. "I'm Lewis Thigpen." "Thigpen!" Pike Mawson appeared almost to choke on the name. "No wonder you're glaring holes in me! I only hope you can find it in your heart to forgive an old man's folly!" * * * * * Ross' jaw sagged. He stared helplessly at the pale cripple in the grav-seat. Mawson said, "This is a long story, Mr. Thigpen, and it does me a deal of discredit. But under the circumstances I have no choice but to tell it." A pause, while he shifted position in the flying chair. "You see, I've already heard from Cheng via your carrier com-set, even though I didn't expect you to land here quite this soon. He's told me what happened, there on Venus." Ross said nothing. "Believe me, Mr. Thigpen, piracy was the last thing in my mind when I sent Cheng out to try to find you. But some over-direct individuals misconstrue orders to their own tastes ever so easily." "Apparently." Ross bit the word off. But here, it seemed, all sarcasm was wasted. The adjudicator went on as if no word had been spoken: "The root fault's mine, Mr. Thigpen. I acknowledge it freely. When I heard of Doctor Tornelescu's life catalyst, and that there was a chance you knew its secret, my sense of values went out of balance. I could think of nothing but the possibility that my own brief remaining span could be prolonged. The fact that you faced--certain difficulties--as a result of Tornelescu's untimely death; the detail that you had no desire to come here--I pushed all such to the back of my mind. All I could think of was the one burgeoning reality that Tornelescu had finally isolated the chemical that controlled human aging; and that when this chemical was injected into an older person, it combined with the amino acids of the body to turn back the clock and give a man new youth.