“It does,” DeLise said. “I can guarantee that.” Aubrey shot the man a look.

“So if you want to fight it, Aubrey, go ahead,” Holloway said. “But I guarantee that if you do, at the end of it, you’re going to be strapped down to a table, looking at a clock, and counting down the last few seconds before every neuron in your brain gets scrambled.”

“I think you overestimate your abilities,” Aubrey said, and smiled.

“That’s a curious thing to say,” Holloway said. “Considering that in the space of a month, I’ve managed to take a planet from you and cut out your company’s heart.” Aubrey stopped smiling. “You need to ask yourself what I could do if you gave me two months. Or a year.”

“We’ll take the deal,” Landon said.

“Brad,” Aubrey began.

“Shut up, Wheaton,” Landon said, sharply. “You don’t get a vote in this anymore. It’s done.”

Aubrey shut up.

Holloway looked at Landon, surprised. “So you’re not actually his personal assistant,” he said finally.

“God, no,” Landon said. “As bad as this got, it would have been worse if he hadn’t been supervised.”

“I don’t know about that,” Holloway said. “This got pretty bad.”

“But it’s not going to get any worse from here,” Landon said. “The rest of the Aubrey family has recognized there’s been a brand value in having a Wheaton Aubrey at the head of the company. It connotes stability that’s attractive to our B-class stockholders. But the last few generations have been going the route of the Hapsburgs.”

Landon pointed a finger at Aubrey. “This one’s grandfather nearly destroyed the company with Greene versus Winston, and if we didn’t keep his father, our current glorious leader, in a state of constant alcoholic stupor, he’d probably try to reverse every single ecology-friendly policy the company currently has. We thought this one might be better. He showed at least some intelligence and actual interest in the business. So we gave him his head, permitted his schemes, and took him on a tour of the properties to see how he’d do. Now we know.”

“That was an expensive lesson,” Holloway said.

Landon shrugged. “Expensive now, yes,” he said. “But the future is long. The family has faith that in time the fuzzys will come to realize the commercial value of their planet and might wish to exploit it in a way consistent with their needs and desires,” Landon said. “When that day comes we hope they will consider us a valuable, eager, and considerate potential partner.”

“That depends,” Holloway said. “Will this one be in charge?”

Landon laughed. Aubrey glowered.

“Then we’re done here,” Holloway said. “And now, Mr. DeLise, Mr. Aubrey, Mr. Landon, if you’ll go out front, you’ll find a skimmer waiting to take you to the beanstalk. A transport is waiting. Your personal effects will be sent along later.”

All three men looked shocked. “You want us to leave now?” Aubrey said.

“Yes, you will leave now,” someone said in a small, high voice. It was Papa Fuzzy.

The three men looked at the fuzzy as if they forgot it could speak.

“You said you would leave,” Papa said. “You will leave. I do not want the men who killed my child to move in the same air or see the same sun that my child did. You are not good men. You do not deserve these good things.”

Papa got up, walked across the table, and stood in front of Aubrey. “I do not know all the things you know. But I am smart,” it said. It pointed to DeLise. “I know this man killed my child. Now I know that you told this man to kill my child. With this man, you killed my child. Jack Holloway told me that he would get the—” Papa looked up at Holloway.

“Son of a bitch,” Holloway said, helpfully.

“Jack Holloway told me he would get the son of a bitch who killed my child and the mate of my child,” Papa continued. “Jack Holloway did get that son of a bitch. Jack Holloway got you. You are the man who killed my child. Get off my planet, you son of a bitch.”

Epilogue

Holloway set the detonation panel on the ground and looked at Papa Fuzzy.

“All right,” Holloway said. “Just like we practiced.”

Papa Fuzzy looked at him, and then looked back at Carl, who was going out of his little doggy mind waiting for the signal. Papa Fuzzy waited, and waited, and waited, and then just when Carl let out the little whine that said, I’m going to pee myself if you don’t do something, opened its mouth. Holloway didn’t hear the signal to fire, but Carl sure did. He skittered forward and dropped his paw on the panel.

A volley of fireworks went up into the sky, arced high above the watching humans and fuzzys, stationed as they were on the top of what used to be the ZaraCorp executive building, and then exploded into multicolors. Everyone cheered in their own fashion, except Carl, who decided there was just a little more boom in that explosion than he would have preferred. Holloway fed Carl the rest of his hot dog. Carl was satisfied.

And just like that, Zara XXIII was no longer Zara XXIII. It was now, officially, the fuzzys’ planet.

To be sure, the paperwork for the final handover of the planet was performed earlier in the day, when the last of the Zarathustra Corporation people and heavy machinery were lifted up the beanstalk, and the Colonial Authority officially ceded authority of the planet to Holloway, whose official title was now Minister Plenipotentiary for the Nation of Fuzzy Peoples. Holloway signed forms, shook hands with the Colonial officials, and stood for photographs with Papa Fuzzy and the Colonials. From the point of view of the Colonial Authority, that was when the planet became independent.

But everyone knows you need fireworks to make independence official.

Fireworks done, the party resumed its cheerful chaos and mingling. Holloway reached down, picked up the detonation panel, powered it down, waved at Albert Chen, who was in an animated conversation with a pack of fuzzys, and then walked over to Isabel, who was watching him, amused.

“Here,” Holloway said, handing her the panel. “I thought you might like a memento.”

“Very funny,” Isabel said, taking it from him. “I can’t believe you actually performed that stunt again. As part of an official event. And roped Papa into doing it with you.”

“Well, you know,” Holloway said. “It’s a good trick. And anyway, Papa is pretty much ruler of the fuzzys and I’m its Minister Plenipotentiary. It’s not like we’re going to get in trouble for it.”

“Jack Holloway,” Isabel said. “You always did know how to stay ahead of trouble. But it proves I was right about you teaching Carl how to set off explosives.” Isabel poked Holloway in the chest to make the point.

“You finally caught me,” Holloway said. “You win.”

“It is a sweet victory,” Isabel assured him.

“I’m sure it is,” Holloway said. He looked around. “So where is your husband? He missed the fireworks.”

“He’s still on a conference call with Chad Bourne,” Isabel said. “They’re going around with that tourism group again about why its proposed jungle tour is a bad idea for anyone who doesn’t like to get eaten.”

“As long as the fuzzys get their cut of the tour fee, I’m perfectly happy to let tourists get consumed,” Holloway said.

“It will cut down a bit on repeat business,” Isabel said.

“Hey, I’m the idea guy,” Holloway said. “Chad and Mark handle the details.”

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you did that, by the way,” Isabel said. “There’s very little point in Mark and me being married if you keep him so busy that we never see each other.”

“It’s not just Mark who’s busy, Dr. Isabel Wangai, Minister of Science and Exploration for the Nation of Fuzzy Peoples,” Holloway said, employing her full title.

“This is very true,” Isabel said. “But at least my work is interesting. The work you have Mark doing is pure drudgery.”