back on the home base, the conductor reported in at the ethication of primitive planets office. it was a magnificently imposing building, as befitting the moral seat of the universe. and the overseer was an equally imposing human with ears greyed by service. his congratulations were unreserved.

"a splendid mission, lad," he said, "and i don't mind suggesting—strictly entre nous—that it could jolly well result in a fleet conductorship for you."

the conductor was overwhelmed.

"now just let me jot down the essentials while they're still fresh in mind," he continued, pawing through a desk drawer. "botheration! i seem to have traded the last of my styluses. do you happen to have one on you?"

"with pleasure." the conductor handed over his monogrammed gold stylus, receiving in exchange a toy silencemaker.

"my youngster traded it to me this morning," the overseer chuckled.

he wrote rapidly for several moments, then gave the stylus back. the conductor found a weathered paper-weight in his rear pocket, which he traded him for it. it looked like it might have come from this very desk at one time. then with a smart salute, he about-faced.

on the way out, a pair of secretaries paused in their trading of a pelt brush for a tail-curler to watch him admiringly. as well they might. fleet conductor!

the future fleet conductor of a solar system he would never think of calling antares paused at the door. in its polished panel he regarded himself with due appreciation. he had sown the seeds of civilization on a far-flung planet where, countless light years from now, they would flower to maturity. not among the strongest or cleverest species, to be sure, but among those most worthy of applying first principles, the moral law of give and take.

among those remote cousins of the conductor himself—who under no circumstances would ever think of himself as resembling a rather oversized trader rat.