Jerry was becoming increasingly intrigued. 'So you're having trouble with Earth. Such as?'
The other took another sip of his wine, appreciatively. He looked at the multibillionaire and said, 'Almost all funds for the space programs have been cut to ribbons. It's practically impossible for a top scientist or technician from whatever country to get permission to migrate to the space islands. Even ordinary folk are highly discouraged from leaving for Lagrangia or the Asteroids. Whenever we make a scientific breakthrough in the islands we immediately rush the details Earthside, but of recent years the Earth nations do not reciprocate. They keep their discoveries to themselves.'
'Why should we do that?'
Venner shrugged and frowned before answering. 'We're not sure. Maybe we're going too fast in the islands; the Earthside powers are afraid we'll upset the boat, come up with changes that will threaten the status quo. We're contributing to future shock with a vengeance. Sooner or later, almost every Earth institution will be threatened with change as a result of developments in space.'
'Probably true.' Jerry thought about it before saying, 'These new developments of yours. What kind of political system have you dreamed up?'
'We're experimenting with a half-dozen alternatives.' The other flashed a grin of deprecation. 'None of them very similar to anything now prevailing Earthside.'
'I'll be damned,' Jerry said. Then, 'Look, with emigration being deliberately discouraged, how are you populating these new islands of the Federation?'
The other looked him straight in the eye. 'Partially from natural increase. We still like kids in the space colonies. But even more so from the original islands.'
Jerry looked at him quizzically. 'Wouldn't the original islands take a dim view of losing their inhabitants in that manner?'
Ian Venner wasn't fazed. 'Some of them do, especially in the Belt.'
'I'd think the Soviet Complex would send the KGB up en masse.'
'They do. And
'Jesus,' Jerry muttered. 'I'll have to have my people do me a brief on this. I had no idea…' He scrutinized the Lagrangist again. 'How are racial problems in Lagrangia and the Asteroids?'
'What race problems?'
Jerry was impatient. 'You know: conflict between the races. Blacks, whites, yellows…'
The man from Lagrangia was just as impatient. 'Auburn,' he interrupted, 'when you're out in deep space and something happens to your suit, you don't give a good goddamn whether the person next to you is black, yellow, or green. Death only comes in one color. In space, all humans cooperate, or they die. We pay no more attention to a person's race than his religion, if he has any—which he most likely doesn't.'
Jerry said, 'Come again?'
Venner was still impatient. 'That's one of the reasons we're on the shit list. The Prophet has been pulling out all the stops when it comes to space colonization. He found out about twenty years ago that there wasn't a single church in Lagrange Five and demanded that he be allowed to build a United Church mission in our Island One. Obviously, we couldn't care less, so he built it and manned it.'
'But nobody came, eh?' Jerry Auburn was amused.
'Oh, we all came. Once. In fact, some came back again for the second time… for laughs. Good grief, Auburn, any emigrants to the space colonies are screened to hell and gone, not for just competence in their line of work, but for intelligence, education, Ability Quotient. How many of them do you think can believe in the religious mythologies of the Jews, the Christians, the Moslems, the Buddhists, the Shinto-ists, or any of the rest? And if we tried to teach the Genesis account, Noah's Ark and the rest, do you think any of them would swallow it? Sorry.'
Jerry got up and went over to the bar to refresh their drinks. He returned with them and said, 'I begin to see why you people are getting uptight. So you've been rather quietly acquiring all private investments in space that you can get your hands on, as fast as you can finance it. But why approach me directly? Why not resort to various stock exchanges and buy up a controlling interest in Auburn Space Development, Incorporated?'
Ian Vernier said, 'It's a question we debated. However, your grandfather was one of the first to invest in Lagrange Five, and he did it with no strings attached. He didn't make quick initial profits and keep them Earthside. For two decades, he reinvested all income from space back into the projects. When he died, your father continued the policy. And he didn't use Earthworm directors. He was the first to have sense enough to appoint experienced Lagrangists, usually second-generation colonists. Nor have we had any interference from you since you have inherited the Auburn interests. So we decided, in all fairness, that we should consult you without the bullshit.'
'You did it, that's a fact,' Jerry Auburn said. He thought about it for long moments during which time the other held his peace. He sipped at his brandy until the glass was empty, then put it down and turned to one of the screens on his desk. He flicked it on, and when a face faded in, said, 'Barry, make arrangements to sell all our interests in Auburn Space Development to the Space Federation. I have a gentleman here in my office named Ian Venner, from Lagrangia. Go over the details with him. You'll have to relay this to Central and to Sillitoe in London and Flaker in Berlin. But first, buy what common shares you can and add them to our holdings you turn over.'
Barry Wimple gaped, but Jerry flicked the switch again and turned back to the equally gaping Lagrangist.
Venner said, 'But look. We make a policy of paying cash, when we've accumulated enough credits to swing our latest acquisition. This was to be the largest thus far. We don't want to be saddled with paying interest for…'
'No interest,' Jerry said flatly. 'I'm turning my space properties over to your Federation.' He stood and extended a hand. 'Perhaps, someday, you'll be able to do a favor for me. Meanwhile, you can use those credits you've accumulated the hard way to buy up some other properties. The move is on, Venner, to create a world government. If such elements as the United Church are in control of that world state, you people are going to be in the soup. You'd better make yourselves as independent as possible, as soon as possible.'
The Lagrangist, still in something of a daze, shook hands. He said hesitantly, which was out of character for him, 'I don't know what motivates you, Auburn, but I assume that you've thought this out. And I can assure you that the Federation is most anxious to grant that favor.''
Jerry smiled suddenly. 'No racism in space, eh?'
The other was mystified. 'That's right. There hasn't been from the beginning.'
When Ian Venner was gone, Jerry went back to his living room, got a double brandy from the bar, and spread himself out on a couch. He remained there for a couple of hours, staring unseeingly out the huge window which overlooked Manhattan. From time to time he got up to replenish the glass.
At one time he said aloud, 'What in hell am I doing in this position?'
And ten minutes later he answered himself. 'I was born into it.'
It had grown dark outside by the time the identity screen buzzed on the door leading to the offices. He sat erect and looked over. It was Lester.
Jerry said, 'Yeah?' a slight slur in his voice.
'Mr. Luca Cellini is here, sir.'
'Send him in.'
The door opened and an alert-looking stranger entered. In his late thirties, he could have been one of Jerry's staff, so far as appearance was concerned. He was dark of complexion in the Sicilian tradition, clean and handsome of features, sharp of eye. He took the room in completely in one quick sweep, then turned to its occupant.
Jerry got up and went over to the bar for still another drink, saying over his shoulder, 'Sit down, Cellini. You're the Graf's local man?'
The newcomer seated himself in a comfort chair and crossed his legs, adjusting his beautifully tailored trousers.
He said, 'That's right, Mr. Auburn, and for both hemispheres of the Americas. What can I do for you?'
Jerry came back, reseated himself on the couch, and viewed the other. He said finally, 'What would you take to sell out the Graf?'
Luca Cellini stared at him for a long moment. Then he said, 'First of all, nine lives, like a cat.'
Jerry said nothing, took a sip of his drink.
Cellini leaned forward a bit. 'Mr. Auburn,' he said 'I don't want to antagonize you. I know who you are, and I
