"Father's right," she said. "Glenna and I have talked it over, and there's something about the three of you that makes you too much alike for a choice. You'll have to draw lots." "You'd settle it like that?" Hovic demanded incredulously. "You'd have us just toss a coin, or draw straws?" She bent her head toward the hut to listen to the old man's ravings. "Father won't live longer than another month or two. After that, what else is there? What difference does it make?" They stood there blankly while the prismatic solar halo slipped down to the vague, far skyline. A cool wind sprang up, heavy with the smell of the yellow turf-flowers, and somewhere on the plains below the piebald grazers hooted at each other with a sound like the muted lowing of doves. "You're right, of course," Geddes said. "We've got the race to think of, as well as ourselves. We'll draw lots." * * * * * They moved away to the compound wall, leaving the women to stare after them with open impatience. Geddes took up a dead twig and broke it into three pieces, two long and one short. "There's more to it than this," he said, keeping his voice down. "Regardless of our opinions. And our opinions aren't what they would be if we hadn't been so thoroughly conditioned to--" "You forgot something, Ged," Hovic cut in. "What about Hanlon?" "I haven't forgotten Hanlon," Geddes said. "That's why I wanted to talk to you in private. Because we've been given a chance, by a miracle, to start over again from scratch, this time with knowledge enough not to make the old deadly mistakes. We're stable, and Hanlon isn't--that's why the Foundation chose us and rejected him. And we can't take the chance of having Hanlon cutting in here with his carping hedonism and his way with women, don't you see? We can't risk letting a wild strain like his into the new race. It isn't going to be easy, because we're conditioned against personal violence, but we've got to get rid of Hanlon." They stared at him, digesting the idea. "It doesn't have to be violent," Geddes argued. "He's under hypnol already. We've only to keep him that way." Lowe shook his head. "I couldn't do it, Ged. I couldn't force myself to it." Hovic was tougher. "It's the only way. Hanlon begged a handout from us and then stole our chronos to smuggle himself here. He'd never let us alone. He'd make such trouble that we'd have to kill him in the end. Why not now, when it's easier?" "Then it's settled," Geddes said. "Two of us, the winners, stay here. The loser goes back to the ship and to Hanlon. Ready?" They nodded. Geddes held out his closed fist, the tips of his twigs barely showing. Lowe, his underlip bitten palely between even dentures, drew the first long straw. Hovic drew the other. Geddes opened his hand and stared down at the short twig on his palm. Somehow it had not seemed possible that _he_ should lose; it was like death, a thing that happened only to others.