of the butcher. Kennon's thoughts about Alexander's youth
vanished that instant. Those eyes belonged to a leader on the
battlefield of galactic business.

Kennon felt the conditioned respect for authority surge through
him in a smothering wave. Grimly he fought it down, knowing it
was a sign of weakness that would do him no good in the interview
which lay ahead.

"So you're Kennon," Alexander said. His lingua franca was clean
and accentless. "I expected someone older."

"Frankly, sir, so did I," Kennon replied.

Alexander smiled, an oddly pleasant smile that transformed the
hard straight lines in his face into friendly curves. "Business,
Dr. Kennon, is not the sole property of age."

"Nor is a veterinary degree," Kennon replied.

"True. But one thinks of a Betan as someone ancient and sedate."

"Ours is an old planet -- but we still have new generations."

"A fact most of us outsiders find hard to believe," Alexander
said. "I picture your world as an ironclad society crystallized
by age and custom into something rigid and in flexible."

"You would be wrong to do so," Kennon said. "Even though we are
cultural introverts there is plenty of dynamism within our