That was that. An expansive Terl finished packaging the evidence and picto-recorder discs. Nobody would be interested anyway. He called Chirk and, with a playful paw on her rump, gave her the package to log and include in the dispatch box. She left and he glanced at the clock. He was overdue at the receiving machine. He went over to it and punched the coordinates of the pictures he wanted and they came whirring forth. He glanced at them casually: the drone firing schedule had to be confirmed. Yes, they were up there at the minesite, working with the cage....

Suddenly he sat forward and spread the pictures out.

They had a blade scraper operating down at the bottom of the cliff, turning over the rubble! Yes! A crane was raising an ore net...what was that in the basket?

He punched rapid keys on the machine and got a closer-view picture. He looked at it. He looked at the analysis squiggle at the side: he didn't have to analyze that; he knew it! It was gold.

They were recovering the lode out of the slide!

He stood up and examined the pictures more closely. What was this over at the side of the slide? Ah, the mangled remains of dead bodies. They'd lost a crew in the drift and with stupid sentimentality they were also digging them out. Why bother? They didn't have to ship them to home planet. Who cared about the corpses of animals? But wait, that meant they must have been up to the lode from behind.

And what were they doing with the cage? Still mining? Ah, pockets. They must have spotted another pocket on that vein up inside the mountain. The mining man in Terl told him that was a good possibility.

He looked at the gold in that ore net. Several hundred pounds of it? He crashed down in his chair and smiled. He began to chuckle.

That drone. He didn't have to fire it. It could wait till Day 93. Then for sure, but not now. No, by the crap nebula, not now!

How wonderful he felt. It had been ages since his head hadn't ached. He reached out a paw. The talons were steady as bedrock.

Terl bounced up, pulsing with good cheer and energy. He grabbed some equipment and packages.

He still had a schedule, but it was different.

He sailed through the compound and into the office of the Planet Head.

Attendants had finished mopping up blood, but there were some stains left. The atmosphere was a bit sharp with cleaning fluids.

There sat Ker. The midget Psychlo looked a bit funny and depressed, lost in the immensity of the chair back of the vast square yardage of the desk.

“Good afternoon, Your Planetship," caroled Terl.

“Would you close the door, please?” said Ker faintly.

Terl took a probe out from under his arm and waved it about to make sure the place hadn't been bugged overnight. He was almost careless about it. He felt free!

"I’m not very popular,” said Ker. “People haven't been very polite to me so far. They wonder why Numph appointed me his deputy. I wonder myself. I’m an operations officer, not an administrator. And now all of a sudden I’m head of the planet.”

Terl, with a wonderful smile on his mouthbones, stepped closer. “Now what I’m going to tell you, Ker, I will deny emphatically I ever said, and there is no record and you'll forget this conversation.”

Ker was instantly alert. As a hardened criminal he knew better than to trust security chiefs.

Ker wriggled in the chair that was too big for him.

"Numph," said Terl, “didn't appoint you.”

Ker got very alert!

"I did," said Terl. “And as long as you do exactly what I tell you to do, without ever telling anyone I told you to do it, you will be fine. More than fine. Wonderful!”

“They'll just send in a new Planet Head on Day 92,” said Ker. “That's only a couple of months off. And he'll find out if I’ve done anything wrong...yes, and he may find out I’m not welcome in certain universes.”

“No, Ker. I don't think you'll be replaced. In fact, I am very, very certain you will not be. You're good for this post for years.”

Ker was wary and puzzled, but Terl seemed so confident that he listened cautiously.

Terl opened an envelope and fanned out the evidence he had gathered on Numph. Ker looked at it with slowly widening eyes.

"A hundred-million-credit-a-year swindle,” said Terl. “Of which Numph got half. You're not only here for years but you'll be rich enough when you do go home to buy your record clean and live in luxury.”

The Psychlo midget studied it. It was a little hard to grasp at first. Nipe, Numph's nephew, was crediting full pay to the employees of this planet but was in fact diverting half the pay and all the bonuses into private accounts for himself and Numph. He finally got that. All he had to do was to continue to deny bonuses and pay only half-pay.

“Why are you doing this?” said Ker. “Do you get a slice of this? Is that it?”

“Oh, no. I don't even want a quarter of a credit of it. It 's all yours. But, of course, I am really doing it because I am your friend. Haven't I always protected you?”

“You've got enough blackmail on me already to get me vaporized,” said Ker. “Why this, too?”

“Now, Ker," said Terl reprovingly. Then he decided it was time to level. “I want you to issue any order I tell you to, and to give me an order in six months to go home.”

“That's fine,” said Ker. “I can even issue orders not to countermand any orders you issue. But I still don't see that I won't be relieved in two months.”

Terl got down to business. “This is the code Numph used. Vehicles-in-use numbers. You won't be relieved. Nipe, his nephew, has influence. This is your first coded message to Nipe.” He put it on the desk, reminding himself to destroy his own handwritten version as soon as Ker had it encoded in his.

The message said: "Numph assassinated by escaped criminal. New situation created. He appointed me especially to carry on. Arrangements are as always. Deposit his share to my numbered account Galaxy Trust

Company. Condolences. Happy future association. Ker."

“I don't have a numbered account,” said Ker.

“You will, you will. I have all the papers for you and they will go out in the next transshipment. Foolproof.”

Ker looked back at the message. For the first time since the murders he began to smile. He sat back, seeming to get bigger. Suddenly he reached forward and slapped paws with Terl, symbolizing full-hearted agreement.

When Terl left him, Ker had swelled up so much he was practically filling the chair.

The only reservation Terl had, as he swept on to his next scheduled action, was that the dim-witted little midget might overreach himself with pomposity and make some clownish mistake. But he'd keep an eye on him. He'd keep a close eye on him. And who cared what happened to Ker once Terl was off this planet!

Any potential alliance Jonnie might have had with Ker was wholly and totally severed.