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 society.”
“How is it that you happen to be out here on the edge of civilization?”
“I never said I was like my society,” Kennon grinned. “Actually I suppose I’m one of the proverbial bad apples.”
“There’s more to it than that,” Alexander said. “Your early years probably influenced you.”
Kennon looked sharply at the entrepreneur. How much did the man really know about him? “I suppose so,” he said indifferently.