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“I don’t know,” Alexander said. “At the first smell of trouble, the Family will turn tail and run. You can break the company, and I won’t stand in your way. It’s only just. You’re the one who’s carrying the ball. Now run with it.”

“That damned blind spot,” Kennon said. “You realize, of course, that you’re not legally liable. It was a mistake. All you have to do is admit the error and start from there. Naturally—no reasonable intelligence would expect that you change the older Lani. They’re too old for either agerone or change. It would be both cruel and inhuman to turn them loose. It’s with the youngsters that you can work—those who are physically and physiologically young enough to derive benefit from agerone and education.

“As I remember, you bought a planet called Phoebe. Now why don’t you—”

“Phase out! Of course! But that means that you can’t press charges.”

“Why should I? I’m not one of these starry-eyed reformers who expect to change things overnight. It’s the future of the Lani race that’s important, And Brainard agrees with me. A phase-out is the proper solution. Change the education, let males be born—teach the young to think instead of to obey. Give them Phoebe for a home—they never owned all of Kardon anyway. And within a century or two we will have a new group of the human race—and then we can tell the Brotherhood.”

Kennon looked inquiringly at Copper. She smiled and nodded. “It would cause less trouble that way,” she said. “It would be more sure—and there are never too many old ones.”

Kennon shuddered, thinking of the euthanasia chambers on Otpen One. “There will be more from now on,” he said.

“Outworld can afford it. It’ll bend us a little but we won’t break—and besides, the Lani will need our help for some time to come.” Alexander looked at Kennon. “Can we make an agreement that all parties will respect?” he asked.

“I think so—providing there are no sleeper clauses in it,” Kennon said.

“There won’t be,” Alexander said.

And there weren’t.

* * *

It was a private ceremony. The Family, sulky and unwilling, faced with a choice of drastically reduced income or outright confiscation and preferring a portion of a loaf to none. Alexander—grim but oddly peaceful of expression. Brainard—pink-cheeked and emotionless. Kennon and Copper—happily conscious that it was at last finished. It was an oddly assorted group of conspirators who planned to restore a segment of humanity to the human race.

Kennon signed last, and as he did, Alexander looked at him with a sly grin distorting the smooth pallor of his face.

“You forgot something,” he said.

“What?” Kennon said—aware suddenly that something was wrong.

“What do you plan to do, now that this is over?”

“Join the Medical Center here and practice veterinary medicine.”

“You wouldn’t care to work for me—to help rebuild the wreckage you’ve helped create? I’ll need a manager on Kardon to phase out the island while we phase in Phoebe.”

“No, thank you. I’ve had enough of that.”

“You just think you have,” Alexander said gleefully. “That’s what you have forgotten. You’ve gotten your agreement—now you will satisfy me. As I see it you have breached your contract by leaving Flora without authorization.”

“That is right,” Kennon said. A small lump of lead began to grow rapidly larger in his stomach. Brainard was grinning and Copper’s eyes were shining. “You’ve been jobbed!” his mind told him. He sighed. He knew what was coming next.

“The punitive clause for breach of contract,” Alexander went on inexorably, “is very broad. Discretion is vested in the entrepreneur. I can obtain judgment against you in any court on any planet.”

“I know,” Kennon said glumly.

“But I am going to be civilized,” Alexander said. “I am going to be merciful. I am going to extend your contract until phase-out has been completed. You are going to have control of the entire Kardon phase of the operation. It’s poetic justice—you made the mess—now you can clean it up.”

“That’s inhuman!”

“Humanity has nothing to do with it. It’s justice,” Alexander said. He smiled at Copper’s radiant face. The thought of going home was good to her. “Good luck on your new job, Dr. Kennon,” he said. “And welcome to the brotherhood of the ulcer.”





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