My mate's aura glowed a pleased pink as I turned an embarrassed lavender. It was almost criminal, I thought, what Ven had done to the girl. Donald might be my servant, but I had never attempted to condition him into liking it. As much as possible we operated as equals, rather than in this sickening relationship which Ven had imposed upon Edith. To avoid showing my displeasure I went up to the control room, donned my helmet and went into rapport with Donald. "I'm sorry," I said. "I hadn't realized the true situation. The best thing for both of us is for Ven and me to leave as quickly as possible." "How quick is that?" he shot back angrily. "Four thousand pounds more," I said. "Whew! That can must drink tin." "It takes a great deal to leave a planet," I said. "And hyperspace demands a great deal more. Once we develop an inertialess drive it will be easier. But we've only been working on it a thousand years. These things take time." "I imagine. Well, are you going to do anything about Edith?" "No," I said. "It would only make things worse. The relationship has gone too far. Ven has become an Authority-image." "You could break it." "But I won't. I'm fond of Ven." "You're a damned little tyrant," Donald said. "You like to see a human squirm." * * * * * "Be thankful that I'm the worst tyrant you'll see," I answered sharply. "You could really learn about them if the Slaads knew you existed. They're more advanced than you. And, unlike us, they're warlike and predatory. They breed mammals for food. However, I'll put up a marker on your moon before I leave. They respect Thalassa and won't preempt our claims." "You mean you're going to lay claim to Earth?" "Only technically. We'll exercise it only if the Governing Council decides it will be to our advantage." "What would you do if you took over?" Don asked curiously. "Clean things up," I said. "Stop wars, stabilize the population, increase production and distribution, give you an effective central government and an understandable legal code, and eliminate the unfit. In three generations you'd be Class VI all over your planet." "It sounds good. What's the catch." "The catch," I said, "is that you wouldn't like it. You mammals are erratic, emotional and uncontrolled. You do not reason well, and you have no race discipline." "What's that?" "The capability of sacrificing units for the benefit of the whole. Eugenics control, culling the unfit." "You're talking about human beings!" Donald exploded. "And what makes a human being different from any other animal?" I asked. "Would you hesitate to dispose of an animal that was unfit to breed?" He sighed. "No," he said. "But that's not the same." "What's the difference? And realize, it's done for your betterment." "Just a bunch of murderous little altruists," Donald sneered. "Out of the kindness of your cold-blooded hearts--"