"In perhaps eighteen of this planet's years, it _will_ be at the age of
decision. What then?"
His shoulders sagged. He shuddered. "I will not be able to fight it off.
I will have to build a transmitter, call the Rojac and confess!"
"And they will collect another inhabitable place," she said, her voice
flat and toneless.
"I've spoiled it," he said. "I've spoiled it!"
--FRANK HERBERT
Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from _Galaxy Science Fiction_ April 1958.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.
copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and
typographical errors have been corrected without note.