Astounding Science Fiction, August 1955 (British Edition) — page 90: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

88 ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION lot of public excitement all out of proportion to the importance of the affair. After all, those people were slaves on their own time line, and if anything, they’re much better off on the Esaron Sector than they would be as captives of the Croutha. As far as that goes, what’s the difference between that and the way we drag these Fourth Level Primitive Sector-Complex people off to Fifth Level Service Sector to work for us?” “Oh, there’s a big difference, Farn,” Javrath Brend said. ‘“We recruit those Fourth Level Primitives out of probability worlds of Stone Age savagery, and transpose them to our own Fifth Level time lines, practically outtime exten- ‘sions of the Home Time Line. There’s absolutely no question of the Paratime Secret being compromised.” “Beside, we need a certain amount of human labor, for tasks requiring original thought and decision that are beyond the ability of robots, and most of it is work our Citizens simply wouldn’t perform,” Thalvan Dras added. “Well, from a moral standpoint, wouldn’t these Esaron Sector people who buy the slaves justify slavery in the same terms?” a woman whom Vall had identified as a Left Moderate Council Member asked. ““There’s still a big difference,’ Dalla told her. ““The ServSec Proles aren’t beaten or tortured or chained ; we don’t break up families or separate friends. When we recruit Fourth Level Primitives, we take whole tribes, and they come willingly. And—” One of Thalvan Dras’ black-liveried human servants, of the class under discussion, approached Vall. ‘A visiphone call for your lordship,’’ he whispered. “Chief Tortha Karf calling. If your lordship will come this way—”’ In a screen-booth outside, Vall found Tortha Karf looking out of the screen ; he was seated at his desk, fiddling with a gold multicolor pen. ““Oh, Vall; something interesting has just come up.” He spoke in a voice of forced calmness. “I can’t go into it now, but you'll want to hear about it. I’m sending a car for you. Better bring Dalla along; she’ll want in on it, too.” “Right; we'll be on the top south-west landing stage in a few minutes.” Dalla was still heatedly repudiating any resemblance between the normal First Level methods of labor-recruitment and the activities of the Wizard Traders; she had just finished the story of the woman whose child had been brained when Vall rejoined the group. ““Dras, I’m awfully sorry,”’ he said. “This is the second time in succession that Dalla and I have had to bolt away from here, but policemen are like doctors—always on call, and consequently unreliable guests. While you’re feasting, think commiseratingly of Dalla and me; we'll probably be having a sandwich and a cup of coffee somewhere.” “I’m terribly sorry,” Thalvan Dras replied. “‘We had all been looking forward— Well! Brogoth, have a car called for Vall and Dalla.” “Police car coming for us; it’s probably on the landing stage now,” Vall said. “Well, good-by, everybody. Coming, Dalla?” They had a few minutes to wait, under the marquee, before the green police aircar landed and came rolling across the rain-wet surface of the landing stage. Crossing to it and opening the rear door, he put Dalla in and climbed in after her, slamming the door. It was only then that he saw Tortha Karf hunched CONNIE NOOKS.COM