fficient for the outright purchase of half the planet, and
Mr. Bussard, here, will do his utmost to get you suitable colonists for
the other half as rapidly as it can be done. Will you help us, Mr.
Holliday?"

* * * * *

Marlowe sank back in his chair. He became conscious of a messy feeling
in his left hand, and looked down to discover the half-eaten candy bar
had melted. He tried furtively to wipe his hand clean on the underside
of the desk, but he knew Bussard had noticed, and he cringed and cursed
himself.

Holliday's face twisted nervously.

"I ... I don't know--"

"Please don't misunderstand us, Mr. Holliday," Marlowe said. "We do not
intend to ask you to spy for us, nor are we acting with the intention of
now establishing a base of any sort on the planet. We simply would like
to have a Union world near the Dovenilid system. Whatever Dovenil does
will not have gathered significant momentum by the end of your life. You
will be free to end your days exactly as you have always wished, and the
precautions we have outlined will ensure that there will be no
encroachments on your personal property during that time. We are
planning for the next generation, when Dovenil will be initiating its
program of expansion. It is then that we will need an established
outpost near their borders."

"Yes," Holliday said hesitantly, "I can understand that. I ... I don't
know," he repeated. "It seems all right. And, as you say, it won't
matter, during my lifetime, and it's more than I had really hoped for."
He looked nervously at Mead. "What do you think, Mr. Mead? You've always
done your best for me."

Mead shot one quick glance at Marlowe. "I think Mr. Marlowe's doing his
best for the Union," he said finally, "and I know he is fully aware of
your personal interests. I think what he's doing is reasonable under the
circumstances, and I think his proposition to you, as he's outlined it,
is something which you cannot afford to not consider. The final decision
is up to you, of course."

Holliday nodded slowly, staring down at his hands. "Yes, yes, I think
you're right, Mr. Mead." He looked up at Marlowe. "I'll be glad to help.
And I'm grateful for the consideration you've shown me."

"Not at all, Mr. Holliday. The Union is in your debt."

Marlowe wiped his hand on the underside of the desk again, but he only
made matters worse, for his fingers picked up some of the chocolate he
had removed before.