“First, I’m going to ask a girl I’ve met recently to marry me. Then I’m going to migrate to Shangri-La. You can turn over to United Planets the job of spreading the warning against bothering the Dawnworlds.”
Sid Jakes chuckled. “Shangri-La? What’s there, my disillusioned friend?”
“The hedonistic ethic.”
“Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we die, eh?”
“Something like that.”
“Great,” Metaxa growled. “But it’s hardly a teaching to be followed by a whole species.”
“Oh,” Ronny said. “Why not? But what I do know is that the purpose of Section G is gone. The pressing need to hurry man toward his final destiny no longer appeals to me. I have seen his final destiny, and it has little appeal.”
Ross Metaxa, moist of eye as always as though from too little sleep or too much alcohol, looked at him wearily. “You haven’t thought this Dawnworld threat through to its conclusion, Ronny.”
His resigning agent grunted amusement. “There is no threat. We leave them alone, they leave us alone.”
The Section G head grunted contempt of that opinion.
“Do you know the legal doctrine of the
“As I recall, the classic case that started that legislation rolling was a company, in the old days, that had a beautiful 75 x 125 foot concrete-lined pool on company property. One weekend, when operations were shut down, some kids sneaked onto the company land and dove in. The first two were in before they discovered that it was the company’s sulfuric acid storage vat.”
Ronny was getting the point.
Metaxa said, “More than one of the member planets of United Planets are in the ‘children’ category. Some of them will have populations with hysterical reactions to the existence of our passive-but-appallingly-deadly-threat Dawn-worlds. They’ll want to provoke war. Then there’ll be, inevitably, the crooks who want to steal some of those magnificent gadgets, that magnificent science. Baron Wyler was an example. There’ll probably even be religious cranks, who’ll want to send missionaries.”
Ronny said, “So we still need a Section G, to act as a fence around this ‘attractive nuisance.’ Is that your point?”
Ross Metaxa growled, “You once asked me if you’d been conned into joining Section G. The answer was, ‘yes.’ It also would have been ‘yes,’ if you’d asked the question about Sid, here—or, about myself, for that matter. The job’s to be done, we have to take what measures we must to do it. The question is asked, ‘am I my brother’s keeper?’ ” He looked deeply into the other’s eyes. “The answer, Ronny, is ‘yes.’
Sid Jakes chuckled. “Meaning, of course, that a keeper is one who cares for and controls the actions of one who is incompetent, irresponsible or insane.”
Ronny looked at Sid Jakes. “I know of a girl you ought to get busy on, recruiting into Section G. She’ll make a top agent.” He slowly reached down to take up the wallet, which contained his badge.
But Metaxa anticipated him, picked it up and dropped it into a desk drawer.
Ronny looked at him.
Metaxa brought forth another wallet and tossed it over. The badge inside gleamed gold at Ronny’s touch.
Ross Metaxa growled, “Recruit this girl yourself, Bronston. If necessary, using whatever dirty tricks are required to rope her into our service. That’s one of the prime duties of operatives of supervisor rank.”
