retire, at thirty-four. I thought about the Venusian twilights, and the turquoise mists off the Deeps, and wondered dully if I'd ever see Venus or the Earth again.

I saw Fern, walking among the conifers, her face a pale mask of strain. "You heard it, Jake?"

I nodded.

We sat in the aquamarine twilight, and Fern was shivering, and I put my arm around her.

"Looks like altruism is a relative thing," I said. "What do they want?"

"Uncontaminated Terms," she said bitterly. "No science, no stars, no wars and no progress. A big beautiful planet-mind, the Term mind, forever static, forever dead."

"It's a bluff," I said. "Our little fanatic's stalling for time, hoping to stampede us while he finds another way."

"For example?"

"Why do you think we insist on basic English for all Terms? Supposing a foreman should start jabbering Terminese during an operation. The Terms would revert, we'd have a line shutdown. They can't adjust—say!" A random thought was nibbling at my brain. "Where was Carmody this morning? Just before I reeled in?"

Her fine brows knitted. "Why, he went—oh, Jake, surely you don't think—?"

"Went where?"

"Down the hall. Towards Personnel."

"Towards the conference hall, you mean. He never even examined Harvey!"

"It wasn't necessary," she said uncomfortably. "Don just wanted to verify his stability index."

"Sure! So he stood outside the conference hall and put a whammy on me—"

Fern was smiling. I scowled. "It fits. It has to be him."

"Or Tichnat," she said. "Or Starza. Or me."

I stared at her. "You'd do." My voice shook. "You were gone three months. They could have got to you."

Her rich, warm laughter sifted through the twilight, and I wanted to hit her. "They did," she gurgled, "but I've decided to relent, Jake. I'll spare the plant on one condition—that you take me to the Term festival tomorrow night."

I grunted. "Carmody working overtime, I suppose?"

"If the plant's still standing."

I changed the subject.

Two hours later Starza called a council of war.

The conference room was crammed with quivering executives. Starza carefully let the tension build to a shrill crescendo before he said:

"One of you gentlemen is a Guild mindless-controlled."

Ragged silence. Starza's smile was very faint.

"You gave us an ultimatum. But destroying this plant is an admission of failure you're not willing to make—yet. You'll try another tack. You're just beginning to discover that this environment we've created for the Terms is superior to the primitive jungle. Tichnat!"

Tichnat stepped forward. His antennae were a proud, brilliant gold.

"Do you want a shutdown?" Starza asked softly.

"Are we fools?" Tichnat clicked. "To lose what we've gained? To return to our tribe? To be destroyed?"

Starza's calm gaze caressed each face, probing. "You see? Stalemate. Whoever you are, you're bluffing. Tomorrow our conveyor speeds return to normal. You'll do nothing. You may try to agitate the Terms, but they're satisfied—"

One of the superintendents cleared his throat. "Look," he said unsteadily, "sometimes you can't afford to call a bluff."

Starza said pleasantly, "Any resignations will be accepted right now. You can wait safely in the Term village until next week's freighter arrives. No repercussions, I promise."

The lie was blatant. Carmody stood by the door, his smile strained. It was all too obvious what would happen to any resignees.

"None?" Starza's brows rose. "I'm proud of you. That's it, gentlemen."

The next day was a frenetic nightmare. My cost dropped, but it didn't matter. That was one day when the best company man became a clock-watcher. Line foremen, department heads, cracked under the strain, and were summarily removed to Psych. Carmody and staff worked overtime.

I toiled feverishly over operation schedules, the crazily fluctuating cost charts. My