is going to be expensive," Rodney
Maxwell said. "Now, to finance the search, I propose we use this
information my son brought back from Terra. Doctor Lucas was right
about one thing; that's worth millions of sols. Well, I propose, also,
that we set up a company and get it chartered; a prospecting company,
to operate under the Abandoned Property Act of 867. My son and I will
contribute this information as our share in the capitalization of the
company. The work of opening these Federation installations can go on
concurrently with the search for Merlin, and the profits can finance
it."

Silence for a moment, then a bedlam of cheering.

"Well, let's get organized," Gatworth said. "What will we call this
company?"

A number of voices shouted suggestions. Rodney Maxwell managed to get
recognition and partial silence.

"It is of the first importance," he said, "that we keep our real
objective--Merlin--as close a secret as possible. The Planetary
Government would like to get hold of it--and I leave you to ask
yourselves how far Jake Vyckhoven and his cronies are to be trusted
with anything like that--and I have no doubt the Federation might try
to take it away from us."

"Couldn't do it, Rodney," Judge Ledue objected. "Everything the
Federation abandoned in the Trisystem is public domain now. We have a
Federation Supreme Court ruling--"

"What's legality to the Federation?" Klem Zareff demanded. "They
fought a criminally illegal war of aggression against my people."

Down the table, somebody started singing "Rally Round the Banner, the
Banner Black and Green."

"Well, I think it's a good idea to keep quiet about it, myself," Kurt
Fawzi said.

"All right," Rodney Maxwell said. "Then we don't want this company to
sound like anything but another salvage company. I suggest we call it
Litchfield Exploration & Salvage."

"Good name, Rodney," Dawes approved. "That a motion? I second it."

Unanimously carried. They had a name, now, anyhow. Everybody began
suggesting other topics for consideration--capitalization, application
for charter, election of officers, stock issues. Conn paid less and
less attention. Industrial finance and organization wasn't his
subject, either. His father was plunging happily into it as though he
had been promoting companies all his life. Conn sat and doodled with
his six-color pen, mostly spherical hyperspace ships.

"We can't get all this cleared up now," Lester Dawes was protesting.
"Your