The Seed of Evil

Each of them, with the exception of Courdon, was supported by an entire sub-team. Julian himself was assisted by half a dozen specialists in biochemistry, biology and medicine, although the operations he had performed had been minor: the grafting of an artificial organ to enable the alien to breathe Earth’s atmosphere, and the additional grafting of a vibrating membrane to simulate the human voice. Nevertheless the creature had lain at his mercy, its chemical secrets within his grasp. He still thrilled when he thought of that.

For there was one fact about the visitor that they had already learned: he was one million years old.

One million years. The phrase echoed in Julian’s mind as he regarded the lounge’s sixth occupant: the alien himself.

The closest resemblance to an Earthly creature was probably to a giant turtle, modified somewhat to give an appearance vaguely insect- or crustacean-like. The tall carapace shone dully in the afternoon light. Beneath it could be seen a fringe of hairy legs, mandibles and an occasional glint of metal or some artifact. The newly-acquired gas-sac by which the creature processed air to suit his metabolism bulked somewhat awkwardly to the rear, pulsing gently.

The alien, who claimed to hail originally from the direction of Aldebaran, had explained that his name could be translated as “Never Die”. It was as Neverdie that they had come to speak of him. Julian simply could not understand why his colleagues accepted this concept with such a lack of excitement.

Neverdie finished a long speech he had been making in cultured, confidential tones that sounded so incongruous coming from his hulking form. There was a long, introspective silence.

At length Courdon said: “So do we take it that you are asking to be allowed to live permanently on Earth?”

“That is correct, sirs.”

“And what do you offer us in exchange for this privilege?” Julian interrupted harshly. The others glanced at him uneasily. They were all slightly nervous of the lean, angular surgeon and his propensity for breaking out at any time into passionate, arrogant outbursts.

“I offer nothing,” Neverdie replied in the same slow, calm voice. “As I have just related, I have escaped from a war which is taking place some light years from here. Such is the ferocity of this war that I may be the last specimen of my species left alive. I am here to seek asylum. There will be no repercussions since my presence here is unknown to my enemies. I merely wish to live my life in quiet, at peace on a civilised planet.”

“You flatter us,” Meyer said wryly.

Julian, however, was not satisfied with the alien’s answer. “There is a great deal you could give us in exchange for our hospitality,” he objected. “For one thing, your spacecraft is capable of fast interstellar travel, a capability we at present do not possess, and it is reasonable of us to expect to be allowed to examine its drive and duplicate it. You may have special knowledge which will help us to advance our technology in other directions, too. And then—most significant of all—there is the fact of your virtual immortality. By now you are probably aware that our species has a very brief life-span. It would interest us greatly to know the secrets of your metabolism.”

A mandible clicked before Neverdie replied. “These matters are a different concern,” the well-modulated voice said regretfully. “To be frank, I had not intended to be put in the position of striking bargains. My wish is to be adopted as a citizen of this planet, with all the rights of a citizen, including the right to dispose of my assets as I choose. You can appreciate that it is not in my interests to equip your people with the interstellar drive. I chose your planet because it is quiet and little-known.”

Ralph Reed cleared his throat. “Neverdie’s assertions strike me as being entirely reasonable,” he said mildly. “It would be barbaric of us to accept his presence here only in exchange for tangible rewards like an engine or some other technology. If we are to look at it in terms of gain, it seems to me that merely to have him here is gain enough. Neverdie is a representative of an alien race, an entirely foreign culture, and his presence in our midst will enrich our own culture. Is that not so?”

The others murmured their agreement. Julian flushed angrily. “This is ridiculous! Have we become so decadent that we no longer see where our advantage lies? It would certainly be—”

Courdon cut him off. “Now, now, Ferrg, there are procedures for this kind of thing. Let us not forget our manners.” He glanced at Neverdie, embarrassed at the outburst, as were the others. Ferrg had been making something of a pest of himself in the past few days and Courdon was wishing he could have been forewarned about the man. He stood, to signify that the interview was at an end.