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Updated: June 13, 2025
"Yet you'd destroy the family, wreck Outworld Enterprises, and throw a whole world into chaos over a few thousand animals. I don't understand you." "They're human," Kennon said flatly. "Admitting they might once have been, they're not now." "And whose fault is that?" "Not ours," Douglas said promptly. "If there is any fault it's that of the court who decided they were humanoid."
Kennon sighed and gave up. Alexander wasn't going to reveal a thing. "All I hope," Alexander continued affably, "is that you'll find Outworld Enterprises as attractive as did your predecessor Dr. Williamson. He was with us until he died last month better than a hundred years." "Died rather young, didn't he?" "Not exactly, he was nearly four hundred when he joined us.
You and Blalok are my hands, ears, and eyes on Flora. You are responsible to me and to me alone. While I defer at times to the desires of the Family, I do not have to. I run Outworld Enterprises and all the extensions of that organization. I possess control and the Family knows it. My men are respected and furthermore they know everything that goes on." He smiled icily.
He had gazed upon softly rounded cheeks, as perfect as physical well-being could make them. He had contemplated rich, ripe lips that tempted him well-nigh to distraction. Thus it was that the passionless life of the outworld had no longer power before the stirring of a soul at last awakened from its pristine slumbers. The meaning of their encounter was no less for Keeko.
And the last was the letter, outstanding in its quietly ostentatious folder-the reply from Box V-9. "Would Dr. Kennon call at 10 A.M. tomorrow at the offices of Outworld Enterprises Incorporated and bring this letter and suitable identifications?" Kennon chuckled. Would he? There was no question about it. The address, 200 Central Avenue, was only a few blocks away.
It was hard to believe that scarcely twenty kilometers from this primitive microcosm was the border of the highly organized and productive farmlands of Outworld Enterprises. "Do you think we can see the hospital if we go high enough?" Copper said. She panted a little, unaccustomed to the altitude. "Possibly," Kennon said. "It is a long distance away.
The glimpse of life when you're condemned to existence on this fierce outworld. It's the meaning of it. A dance. It doesn't sound much. Maybe it doesn't mean a thing to you but something to laugh at, or to sneer at. It's different to me, and to other folks, who who aren't crazy for the long trail and the terrible country we're buried in. The decorations. The flags.
Outworld Enterprises is far bigger than Flora and I was busy. Galactic trade is a snake-pit. And, after all, there was Douglas's death and the Family with their never-ending clamor for money and their threats when it didn't come promptly. I like being an entrepreneur, but until I made Outworld independent of Family control, I couldn't do anything except run the business to their wishes.
It seemed that he was fated to travel far, and his fancy forsook the homely life of his own wicks and fells and reached to that outworld of which he had heard in the winter's talk by the hall fire. There were plenty of folk in Hightown to satisfy his curiosity. There were the Bearsarks, who would spin tales of the rich Frankish lands and the green isles of the Gael.
I'll have to make a transcript of this discussion, have it witnessed, and make a sealed record. I have to arrange for the reposition of the evidence inside the Egg, and a complete recording of the Egg itself." "And to be safe you'll need several facsimiles, properly attested. The arms of these outworld entrepreneurs are long, and unfortunately not all Betans are models of honesty."
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