At the decade’s end, once again the representatives of the Genoese team were first in the Pedagogue’s lounge. Mayer sat at the officer’s table, Martin Gunther at his right. Jerry Kennedy leaned against the ship’s bar, sipping appreciatively at a highball.

They could hear the impact of the space boat from Texcoco when it slid into its bed.

“Poor piloting,” Gunther mused. “Whoever’s doing that flying doesn’t get enough practice.”

They could hear ports opening and then the sound of approaching feet. The footsteps had a strangely military ring.

Joe Chessman entered, followed immediately by Barry Watson, Dick Hawkins and Natt Roberts. They were all dressed in heavy uniform, complete with decorations. Behind them were four Texcocans, including Reif and his teen-age son Taller.

Mayer scowled at them in way of greeting. “Where’s Plekhanov?”

“Leonid Plekhanov is no longer with us,” Chessman said dourly. “Under pressure his mind evidently snapped and he made decisions that would have meant the collapse of the expedition. He resisted when we reasoned with him.”

The four members of the Genoese team stared without speaking. Jerry Kennedy put down his glass at last. “You mean you had to restrict him? Why didn’t you bring him back to the ship!”

Chessman took a chair at the table. The others assumed standing positions behind him. “I’m afraid we’ll have to reject your views on the subject. Twenty years ago this expedition split into two groups. My team will accomplish its tasks, your opinions are not needed.”

Amschel Mayer glared at the others in hostility. “You have certainly come in force this time.”

Chessman said flatly, “This is all of us, Mayer.”

“All of you! Where are Stevens, Cogswell, MacBride?”

Barry Watson said, “Plekhanov’s fault. Lost in the battle that broke the back of the rebels. At least Cogswell and MacBride were. Stevens made the mistake of backing Plekhanov when the showdown came.”

Joe Chessman looked sourly at his military chief. “I’ll act as team spokesman, Barry.”

“Yes, sir,” Watson said.

“Broke the back of the rebels,” Jerry Kennedy mused. “That opens all sorts of avenues, doesn’t it?”

Chessman growled. “I suppose that in the past twenty years your team had no obstacles. Not a drop of blood shed. Come on, the truth. How many of your team has been lost?”

Mayer shifted in his chair. “Possibly your point is well taken. Dean and Rosetti were burned by the formerly dominant religious group. Rykov was killed in a fracas with bandits while he was transporting some gold.” He added, musingly, “We lost more than half a million Genoese pounds in that robbery.”

“Only three men lost, eh?”

Mayer stirred uncomfortably, then flushed in irritation at the other’s tone. “Something has happened to Buchwald and MacDonald. They must be insane. They’ve broken off contact with me, are amassing personal fortunes in the eastern hemisphere.”

Hawkins laughed abruptly. “Free competition,” he said.

Chessman growled, “Let’s halt this bickering and get to business. First let me introduce Reif, Texcocan State Army Chief of Staff and his son Taller. And these other Texcocans are Wiss and Fokin, both of whom have gone far in the sciences.”

The Tulans shook hands, Earth style, but then stepped to the rear again where they followed the conversation without comment.

Mayer said, “You think it wise to introduce natives to the Pedagogue?”

“Of course,” Chessman said. “Following this conference, I’m going to take Fokin and Wiss into the library. What’re we here for if not to bring these people up to our level as rapidly as possible?”

“Very well,” Mayer conceded grudgingly. “And now I have a complaint. When the Pedagogue first arrived we had only so many weapons aboard. You have appropriated more than half in the past two decades.”

Chessman shrugged it off. “We’ll return the greater part to the ship’s arsenal. At this stage we are producing our own.”

“I’ll bet,” Kennedy said. “Look, any of you fellows want a real Earthside whisky? When we were crewing this expedition, why didn’t we bring someone with a knowledge of distilling, brewing and such?”

Mayer snapped at him, “Jerry, you drink too much.”

“The hell I do,” the other said cheerfully. “Not near enough.”

Barry Watson said easily, “A drink wouldn’t hurt. Why’re we so stiff? This is the first get-together for ten years. Jerry, you’re putting on weight.”

Kennedy looked down at his admittedly rounded stomach. “Don’t get enough exercise,” he said, then reversed the attack. “You look older. Are your taking your rejuvenation treatments?”

Barry Watson grimaced. “Sure, but I’m working under pressure. It’s been one long campaign.”

Kennedy passed around the drinks.

Dick Hawkins laughed. “It’s been one long campaign, all right. Barry has a house as big as a castle and six or eight women in his harem.”

Watson flushed, but obviously without displeasure.

Martin Gunther, of the Genoese team, cocked his head. “Harem?”

Joe Chessman said impatiently, “Man adapts to circumstances, Gunther. The wars have lost us a lot of men. Women are consequently in a surplus. If the population curve is to continue upward, it’s necessary that a man serve more than one woman. Polygamy is the obvious answer.”

Gunther cleared his throat smoothly, “So a man in Barry’s position will have as many as eight wives, eh? You must have lost a good many men.”

Watson grinned modestly. “Everybody doesn’t have that many. It’s according to your ability to support them, and, also, rank has its privileges. Besides, we figure it’s a good idea to spread the best seed around. By mixing our blood with the Texcocan we improve the breed.”

Behind him, Taller, the Tulan boy, stirred, without notice.

Kennedy finished off his highball and began to build another immediately. “Here we go again. The big potatoes coming to the top.”

Watson flushed. “What do you mean by that, Kennedy?”

“Oh, come off it, Barry,” Kennedy laughed. “Just because you’re in a position to push these people around doesn’t make you the prize stud on Texcoco.”

Watson elbowed Dick Hawkins to one side in his attempt to get around the table at the other.

Chessman rapped, “Watson! That’s enough. Knock it off or I’ll have you under arrest.” The Texcocan team head turned abruptly to Mayer and Kennedy. “Let’s stop this nonsense. We’ve come to compare progress. Let’s begin.”

The three members of the Genoese team glared back in antagonism, but then Gunther said grudgingly, “He’s right. There is no longer amiability between us, so let’s forget about it. Perhaps when the fifty years is up, things will be different. Now let’s merely be businesslike.”

“Well,” Mayer said, “our report is that progress accelerates. Our industrial potential expands at a rate that surprises even us. In the near future we’ll introduce the internal combustion engine. Our universities still multiply and are turning out technicians, engineers, scientists at an ever-quickening speed. In several nations illiteracy is practically unknown and per capita production increases almost everywhere.” Mayer paused in satisfaction, as though awaiting the others to attempt to top his report.

Joe Chessman said sourly, “Ah, almost everywhere per capita production increases. Why almost?”

Mayer snapped, “Obviously, in a system of free competition, all cannot progress at once. Some go under.”

“Whole nations?”

“Temporarily whole nations can receive setbacks as a result of defeat in war, or perhaps due to lack of natural resources. Some nations progress faster than others.”

Chessman said, “The whole Texcocan State is one great unit. Everywhere the gross product increases. Within the foreseeable future the standard of living will be excellent.”

Jerry Kennedy, an alcoholic lisp in his voice now, said, “You mean you’ve accomplished a planet-wide government?”

“Well, no. Not as yet,” Chessman’s sullen voice had an element of chagrin in it. “However, there are no strong elements left that oppose us. We are now pacifying the more remote areas.”

“Sounds like a rather bloody program especially if Barry Watson, here, winds up with eight women,” Martin Gunther said.

Watson started to say something but Chessman held up a restraining hand. “The Texcocan State is too strong to be resisted, Gunther. It is mostly a matter of getting around to the more remote peoples. As soon as we bring in a new tribe, we convert it into a commune.”

“Commune!” Kennedy blurted.

Joe Chessman raised his thick eyebrows at the other. “The most efficient socio-economic unit at this stage of development. Tribal society is perfectly adapted to fit into such a plan. The principal difference between a tribe and a commune is that under the commune you have the advantage of a State above in a position to give you the benefit of mass industries, schools, medical assistance. In return, of course, for a certain amount of taxes, military levies and so forth.”

Martin Gunther said softly, “I recall reading of the commune system as a student, but I fail to remember the supposed advantages.”

Chessman growled, “They’re obvious. You have a unit of tens of thousands of persons. Instead of living in individual houses, each with a man working while the woman cooks and takes care of the home, all live in community houses and take their meals in messhalls. The children are cared for by trained nurses. During the season all physically capable adults go out en masse to work the fields. When the harvest has been taken in, the farmer does not hole up for the winter but is occupied in local industrial projects, or in road or dam building. The commune’s labor is never idle.”

Kennedy shuddered involuntarily.

Chessman looked at him coldly. “It means quick progress. Meanwhile, we go through each commune and from earliest youth, locate those members who are suited to higher studies. We bring them into State schools where they get as much education as they can assimilate more than is available in commune schools. These are the Texcocans we are training in the sciences.”

“The march to the anthill,” Amschel Mayer muttered.

Chessman eyed him scornfully. “You amuse me, old man. You with your talk of building an economy with a system of free competition. Our Texcocans are sacrificing today but their children will live in abundance. Even today, no one starves, no one goes without shelter nor medical care.” Chessman twisted his mouth wryly. “We have found that hungry, cold or sick people cannot work efficiently.”

He stared challengingly at the Genoese leader. “Can you honestly say that there are no starving people in Genoa? No inadequately housed, no sick without hope of adequate medicine? Do you have economic setbacks in which poorly planned production goes amuck and depressions follow with mass unemployment?”

“Nevertheless,” Mayer said with unwonted calm, “our society is still far ahead of yours. A mere handful of your bureaucracy and military chiefs enjoy the good things of life. There are tens of thousands on Genoa who have them. Free competition has its weaknesses, perhaps, but it provides a greater good for a greater number of persons.”

Joe Chessman came to his feet. “We’ll see,” he said stolidly. “In ten years, Mayer, we’ll consider the position of both planets once again.”

“Ten years it is,” Mayer snapped back at him.

Jerry Kennedy saluted with his glass. “Cheers,” he said.

On the return to Genoa Amschel Mayer said to Kennedy, “Are you sober enough to assimilate something serious?”

“Sure, chief, of course.”

“Hm-m-m. Well then, begin taking the steps necessary for us to place a few men on Texcoco in the way of, ah, intelligence agents.”

“You mean some of our team?” Kennedy said, startled.

“No, of course not. We can’t spare them, and, besides, there’d be too big a chance of recognition and exposure. Some of our more trusted Genoese. Make the monetary reward enough to attract their services.” He looked at his lieutenants significantly. “I think you’ll agree that it might not be a bad idea to keep our eyes on the developments on Texcoco.”

On the way back to Texcoco, Barry Watson said to his chief, “What do you think of putting some security men on Genoa, just to keep tabs?”

“Why?”

Watson looked at his fingers, nibbled at a hangnail. “It just seems to me it wouldn’t hurt any.”

Chessman snorted.

Dick Hawkins said, “I think Barry’s right. They can bear watching. Besides in another decade or so they’ll realize we’re going to beat them. Mayer’s ego isn’t going to take that. He’d go to just about any extreme to keep from losing face back on Earth.”

Natt Roberts said worriedly, “I think they’re right, Joe. Certainly it wouldn’t hurt to have a few Security men over there. My department could train them and we’d ferry them over in this space boat.”

“I’ll make the decisions,” Chessman growled at them. “I’ll think about this. It’s just possible that you’re right though.”

Behind them, Reif looked thoughtfully at his teen-age son.