they do not believe that
that is what you intend, and I'm sure they don't care, one way or the other."
"Why not?" Hazleton said. "I would."
"You have never owned several million
serfs," Karst said, without rancor. "You have serfs working for you,
and you are paying them wages. That in itself is a disaster for the Proctors.
And they cannot stop it. They know that the money you are paying is legal, with
the power of the Earth behind it. They cannot stop us from earning it. To do so
would cause an uprising at once."
Amalfi looked at Hazleton. The money the city was handing
out was the Oc Dollar. It was legal here—but back in the galaxy it was just so
much paper. It was only germanium-backed. Could the Proctors be that naive? Or
was IMT simply too old to possess the instantaneous Dirac transmitters which
would have told it of the economic collapse of the home lens?
"And the spindizzies?" Amalfi said. "Who else
would know of them among the Great Nine?"
"Asor, for one," Karst said. "He is the
presiding officer, and the religious fanatic of the group. It is said that he
still practices daily the full thirty yogas of the Semantic Rigor, even to
chinning himself upon every rung of the Abstraction Ladder. The prophet Maalvin
banned the flight of men forever, so Asor would not be likely to allow IMT to
fly at this late date."
"He has his reasons," Hazleton said reflectively.
"Religions rarely exist in a vacuum. They have effects on the societies
they reflect. He's probably afraid of the spindizzies, in the last analysis.
With such a weapon it takes only a few hundred men to make a revolution—more
than enough to overthrow a feudal set-up like this. IMT didn't dare keep its
spindizzies working."
"Go on, Karst," Amalfi said, raising his hand
impatiently at Hazleton. "How about the other Proctors?"
"There is Bemajdi, but he hardly counts," Karst
said. "Let me think. Remember I have never seen most of these men. The
only one who matters, it seems to me, is Larre. He is a dour-faced old man with
a potbelly. He is usually on Heldon's side, but seldom travels with Heldon all
the way. He will worry less about the money the serfs are earning than will the
rest. He will contrive a way to tax it away from us—perhaps by declaring a
holiday, in honor of the visit of Earthmen to our planet. The collection of
tithes is a duty of his."
"Would he allow Heldon to put IMT's spindizzies in
shape?"
"No, probably not," Karst said. "I believe
Heldon was telling the truth when he said that he would have to do that in
secret."
"I don't know," Amalfi said. "I don't like
it. On the surface, it looks as though the Proctors hope to scare us off the
planet as soon as the contract expires, and then collect all the money we've
paid the serfs—with the cops to back them up. But when you look closely at it,
it's crazy. Once the cops find out the identity of IMT—and it won't take them
long—they'll break up both cities, and be glad of the chance."
Karst said: "Is this because IMT was the Okie city that
did . . . what was done ... on Thor V?"
Amalfi suddenly found that he was having difficulty in
keeping his Adam's apple where it belonged. "Let that pass, Karst,"
he growled. "We're not going to import that story into the Cloud. That
should have been cut from your learning tape."
"I know it now," Karst said calmly. "And I am
not surprised. The Proctors never change."
"Forget it. Forget it, do you hear? Forget everything.
Karst, can you go back to being a dumb serf for a night?"
"Go back to my land?" Karst said. "It would
be awkward. My wife must have a new man by now—"
"No, not back to your land. I want to go with Heldon
and look at his spindizzies, as soon as he says the word. I'll need to take
some heavy equipment, and I'll need some help. Will you come along?"
Hazleton raised his eyebrows. "You won't fool Heldon,
boss."
"I think I will. Of course he knows that we've educated
some of the serfs, but that's not a thing he can actually see when
that is what you intend, and I'm sure they don't care, one way or the other."
"Why not?" Hazleton said. "I would."
"You have never owned several million
serfs," Karst said, without rancor. "You have serfs working for you,
and you are paying them wages. That in itself is a disaster for the Proctors.
And they cannot stop it. They know that the money you are paying is legal, with
the power of the Earth behind it. They cannot stop us from earning it. To do so
would cause an uprising at once."
Amalfi looked at Hazleton. The money the city was handing
out was the Oc Dollar. It was legal here—but back in the galaxy it was just so
much paper. It was only germanium-backed. Could the Proctors be that naive? Or
was IMT simply too old to possess the instantaneous Dirac transmitters which
would have told it of the economic collapse of the home lens?
"And the spindizzies?" Amalfi said. "Who else
would know of them among the Great Nine?"
"Asor, for one," Karst said. "He is the
presiding officer, and the religious fanatic of the group. It is said that he
still practices daily the full thirty yogas of the Semantic Rigor, even to
chinning himself upon every rung of the Abstraction Ladder. The prophet Maalvin
banned the flight of men forever, so Asor would not be likely to allow IMT to
fly at this late date."
"He has his reasons," Hazleton said reflectively.
"Religions rarely exist in a vacuum. They have effects on the societies
they reflect. He's probably afraid of the spindizzies, in the last analysis.
With such a weapon it takes only a few hundred men to make a revolution—more
than enough to overthrow a feudal set-up like this. IMT didn't dare keep its
spindizzies working."
"Go on, Karst," Amalfi said, raising his hand
impatiently at Hazleton. "How about the other Proctors?"
"There is Bemajdi, but he hardly counts," Karst
said. "Let me think. Remember I have never seen most of these men. The
only one who matters, it seems to me, is Larre. He is a dour-faced old man with
a potbelly. He is usually on Heldon's side, but seldom travels with Heldon all
the way. He will worry less about the money the serfs are earning than will the
rest. He will contrive a way to tax it away from us—perhaps by declaring a
holiday, in honor of the visit of Earthmen to our planet. The collection of
tithes is a duty of his."
"Would he allow Heldon to put IMT's spindizzies in
shape?"
"No, probably not," Karst said. "I believe
Heldon was telling the truth when he said that he would have to do that in
secret."
"I don't know," Amalfi said. "I don't like
it. On the surface, it looks as though the Proctors hope to scare us off the
planet as soon as the contract expires, and then collect all the money we've
paid the serfs—with the cops to back them up. But when you look closely at it,
it's crazy. Once the cops find out the identity of IMT—and it won't take them
long—they'll break up both cities, and be glad of the chance."
Karst said: "Is this because IMT was the Okie city that
did . . . what was done ... on Thor V?"
Amalfi suddenly found that he was having difficulty in
keeping his Adam's apple where it belonged. "Let that pass, Karst,"
he growled. "We're not going to import that story into the Cloud. That
should have been cut from your learning tape."
"I know it now," Karst said calmly. "And I am
not surprised. The Proctors never change."
"Forget it. Forget it, do you hear? Forget everything.
Karst, can you go back to being a dumb serf for a night?"
"Go back to my land?" Karst said. "It would
be awkward. My wife must have a new man by now—"
"No, not back to your land. I want to go with Heldon
and look at his spindizzies, as soon as he says the word. I'll need to take
some heavy equipment, and I'll need some help. Will you come along?"
Hazleton raised his eyebrows. "You won't fool Heldon,
boss."
"I think I will. Of course he knows that we've educated
some of the serfs, but that's not a thing he can actually see when
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