"I'm way ahead of you. Migration always involves selection and improvement. Elementary. If they'll do it. If. Ira, I had a hell of a time selling the idea to the Families when we moved here back in the twenty-third century. Could not have sold it at all if Earth had not become a dreary place. Good luck; you'll need it."

"Lazarus, I don't expect to succeed. I will try. But if I fail, I'll resign and migrate anyhow. To Tertius if I can organize a party large enough for a viable colony. To some planet colonized but very thinly settled if not."

"Do you mean that, Ira? Or, when the time comes, will you kid yourself that it is really your duty to hang on? If a man has the temperament for power-and you have or you wouldn't be where you are-he finds it hard to abdicate."

"I mean it, Lazarus. Oh, I like to run things; I know it. I hope to lead the Families on their third Exodus. But I don't expect to. However, I think my chances of putting together a viable colony-of young people, not over a hundred years old, two hundred at most-without the aid of the Foundation, are fairly good. But if I fail in that, too"-he shrugged- "migration will be the only worthwhile course open to me; Secundus will have nothing more to offer." Weatheral added, "Perhaps I feel as you do, sir, in a minor way. I have no wish to be Chairman Pro Tem all my days. I've had almost a century of it; that's enough. If I can't put this over."

Lazarus was thoughtfully silent; Weatheral waited.

"Ira, install that suicide switch for me. But tomorrow. Not today."

"Yes, sir."

"Don't you want to know why?" Lazarus picked up the large envelope, his will. "If you convince me that you are going to migrate, come hell or high water and no matter what the Trustees do, I want to rewrite this. My investments and cash accounts here and there-if somebody hasn't stolen them while my back was turned-add up to a nice piece of change. Possibly enough to make the difference between success and failure in mounting a migration. If the Trustees won't back it with Foundation funds. And they won't."

Weatheral said nothing. Lazarus glared at him. "Didn't your mother teach you to say 'Thank you'?"

"For what, Lazarus? For giving me something after you're dead and no longer need it? If you do this, it will be to tickle your vanity-not to please me."

Lazarus grinned. "Hell, yes. I ought to stick in a condition that you name the planet 'Lazarus.' But I would have no way to enforce it. Okay, we understand each other. And I think- Do you respect good machinery?"

"Eh? Yes. As much as I despise machinery that doesn't do what it is putatively designed to do."

"We still understand each other. I think I'll leave the 'Dora'-that's my yacht-to you personally rather than to the Families' chairman...if you lead a migration."

"Uh...you tempt me to thank you."

"Don't. Just be good to her. She's a sweet craft, she's never known anything but kindness. She'll make a fine flagship for you. With simple reoutfitting-specs for it in her computer-she'll house a staff of twenty or thirty. And you can ground and reconnoiter in her, then lift off again-which your transports won't be able to do, most likely."

"Lazarus...I don't want to inherit either money or a yacht from you. Let them finish your rejuvenation-and come

with us, man! I'll step aside and you can boss. Or you can have no duties at all. But come!"

Lazarus smiled bleakly and shook his head. "I've been on six such colonizing ventures to virgin planets, not counting Secundus. All to planets I discovered. Gave it up centuries back. Anything gets boring in time. Do you think Solomon serviced all his thousand wives? If so, what sort of job did he do on the last one?-poor girl! Find me something new to do and I might never touch that suicide switch and still give you all I've got for your colony. It 'ud be a fair swap...as this halfway rejuvenation is most unsatisfactory; I don't feel well, yet I can't die. So I'm stuck between the suicide switch and giving in for the full treatment...the donkey that starved to death between two piles of hay. But it would have to be new, Ira, not something I've done over and over again. Like that old whore, I've climbed the same stairs too many times; my feet hurt."

"I'll think about the problem, Lazarus. I'll give it hard and systematic research."

"Seven to two you can't find anything I haven't done."

"I'll make a real try. You'll lay off the suicide switch while I research it?"

"No promises. Not once I get this will redrafted. Can you trust your chief legal eagle? May need some help...because this will"-he tapped the envelope- "leaving everything to the Families would stand up on Secundus no matter how many flaws are in it. But if I leave it to a private party-you, I mean-some of my descendants-quite a passel-will scream 'undue influence' and try to break it. Ira, they'll keep it tied up in court until it's dribbled away in legal fees. Let's avoid that, eh?"

"We can. I've made changes in the rules. On this planet a man can put his will through probate before his death, and if there are flaws, the court is required to help him rephrase it to accomplish his purposes. If he does it that way, no contest can be entertained by any court; it goes automatically into effect on his death. Of course if he changes his will, the new will must go through the same process-which makes changing his mind expensive. But by using preprobate, it does not take a lawyer for even the most complex will. And the lawyers can't touch it afterwards."

Lazarus' eyes widened with pleasure. "Didn't you annoy a few lawyers?"

"I've annoyed so many," Ira said dryly, "that every transport to Felicity has voluntary migrants in it-and so many lawyers have annoyed me, that some are involuntary ones." The Chairman Pro Tens looked sourly amused. "Once I said to my Chief Justice, 'Warren, I've bad to reverse too many of your decisions. You've been splitting hairs, misinterpreting the rules, and ignoring equity ever since you came into office. Go home; you're under house arrest until the 'Last Chance' lifts. You can have an escort during daylight hours to let you wind up your private affairs."

Lazarus chuckled. "Shoulda hanged him. You know what he did, don't you? Set up shop again on Felicity and went into politics. If they didn't lynch him."

"His problem and theirs, not mine. Lazarus, I never let a man be executed for being a fool-but if he's too obnoxious, I ship him out. There's no need to sweat over your new will if you want one. Just dictate it with any elaborations and explanations you see fit. Then we'll run it through a semantic analyzer to rephrase it into airtight legal language. Once it satisfies you, you can submit it to the High Court-which will come to you if you prefer-and the Court will validate it. Done that way it could then be overturned only by arbitrary act of a new Chairman Pro Tem. Which I consider most unlikely; the Trustees do not place such men in office."

Weatheral added, "But I hope you will take plenty of time, Lazarus. I want a fair chance to search for something new, something that will restore your interest in life."

"All right. But don't dally; I won't be put off with a Scheherazade gag. Have them send me a recorder-tomorrow morning, say."

Weatheral seemed about to speak, did not. Lazarus looked at him sharply. "This conversation is being recorded?"

"Yes, Lazarus. Sound and holography, everything that happens in this suite. But-your pardon, sir!-it goes only to my desk and does not become a permanent record until I have checked and okayed it. Nothing so far, that is."

Lazarus shrugged. "Forget it. Ira, I learned centuries back that there is no privacy in any society crowded enough to need ID's. A law guaranteeing privacy simply insures that bugs-microphones and lenses and so forth-are that much harder to spot. I hadn't thought about it up till now because I take it for granted that.. my privacy will be invaded any time I visit such places-then I ignore it unless I'm up to something the local law won't like. In which case I use evasive tactics."