"Unfortunately, our armed forces are too busy keeping order in the new resettlements, or they would have been subdued long ago. The resettlements have been supplied with seed, tools, cattle, metallic substances, concentrated fuel, machinery ... in fact, everything necessary for a successful evacuation. This last group would have been similarly supplied, they were even given a reprieve for their insubordination and offered special terms--the Council can be munificent!" For an instant her voice rang with exaltation. "But they absolutely refuse evacuation, except...." "Except what?" Lynn was all attention, sensing that this was the core of the problem. "Except on their own terms!" The young scientist exclaimed with a trace of bitterness. "But why don't you permit them to decide what manner of death they're to have? What possible interest can the Council have in what to them is an atavistic, intransigent group that detests our system of planned existence? If the prospect of a continuation of this civilization gags them, even in another planet, then obviously their choice to remain and die here should be respected." Mark's voice was very soft. The limpid hazel eyes of the girl mirrored her shock at Mark's words. "Impossible! It would be horribly wasteful. And, a distinct failure on the Council's part. Those lives can be useful--the Council never fails!" "Amen!" Mark Lynn exclaimed archaically. "And where do I come in?" The irony of his present situation didn't escape him. That he, an _International_, a strata of the highly complex social order considered most dangerous, should be called in to solve a problem of such magnitude, involving (of all people) Internationals and intransigents, would have been fantastic to anyone not acquainted with the subtle and at times Machiavellian methods of the Council. * * * * * Doctor Fortun handed him a rolled, tissue-thin, metallic cylinder for an answer. "Those are your orders from the Council," she said soberly. "I'm but an agent, as you know. Just one among the scientists who will be in charge upon arrival. Do not read it now. It is final. Take this card, it's a permit to enter a scientific News-Casting Booth and scan all available data for the past year. We know that out of the remaining third, roughly three or four hundred million at best will be transportable. The balance are far too old to withstand the journey--their power potential is negligible, and in any case, they'd much rather die than leave. But it's the three or four hundred million transportables who are highly useful for the particular purpose of the Council, that we must ... or rather," she smiled faintly, "you must convince." She opened a drawer and extracted a gleaming metal disk. "These credits will be ample," she said, extending it to Mark. Lynn's eyes widened. "Ten thousand credits? I've had to work as many years for that amount!"