Astounding Science Fiction, British Edition — page 79: what you’re looking at

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

EARTHMAN, COME HOME 77 they would make that decision. The cleaner the home galaxy became of Okies—and there was no doubt but that the cops had by now broken up the majority of the space-faring cities —the greater the urge would become to track down the last few stragglers. Amalfi had no faith in the ability of a satellite starcloud to outrun human technology. By the time the cops were ready to cross from the home lens to the Greater Magellanic, they would have the techniques with which to do it, and techniques far less clumsy than those Amalfi’s city had used. If the cops wanted to chase the Greater Magellanic, they would find ways to catch it. If— Amalfi took up the earphones again. “Question,” he said. “‘Will the need to catch us be urgent enough to pro- duce the necessary techniques in time?” The City Fathers hummed, drawn momentarily from their eternal mull- ing over the past. At last they said: “YES, MAYOR AMALFI. BEAR IN MIND THAT WE ARE NOT ALONE IN THIS CLOUD. RE- MEMBER THOR V.” There it was: the ancient slogan that had made Okies hated on even planets that had never seen an Okie city,:and could never expect to. There was only the smallest chance that the city which had wrought the Thor V atrocity had made good its escape to this cloud; it had all happened a long time ago. But even the narrow chance, if the City Fathers were right, would bring the cops here sooner or later, to destroy Amalfi’s own city in expiation of that still-burning crime. Remember Thor V. No city would be safe until that raped and murdered world could be forgotten. Not even out here, in thé virgin satellites of the home lens. “Boss? Sorry, we didn’t know you were busy. But we’ve got an operating schedule set up, as soon as you're ready to look at it.” “Tm ready right now, Mark.” Amalfi said, turning away from the boards. “‘Hello, Dee. How do you like your planet?” The former Utopian girl smiled. “It’s beautiful,” she said simply. “For the most part, anyway,” Hazleton agreed. “This heath is an ugly place, but the rest of the land seems to be excellent—much better than you’d think it from the way it’s being farmed. The tiny little fields they break it up into here just don’t do it justice, and even I know better culti- vation methods than these serfs do.” “I’m not surprised,” Amalfi said. “It’s my theory that the proctors maintain their power partly by pre- venting the spread of any knowledge about farming beyond the most rudi- mentary kind. That’s also the most rudimentary kind of politics, as I don’t need to tell you.” “On the politics,” Hazleton said. evenly, “‘we’re in disagreement. While that’s ironing itself out, the business of running the city has to go on.” “All right,’ Amalfi said. “What’s on the docket?” “l’m having a small plot on the heath, next to the city, turned over and conditioned for some experimental plantings, and extensive soil tests have already been made. That’s purely a stopgap, of course. Eventually we'll have to expand onto good land. I’ve drawn up a tentative contract of lease between the city and the Proctors, which provides for us to rotate owner- ship geographically so as to keep dis- placement of the serfs at a minimum, and at the same time opens a complete spectrum of seasonal plantings to us— essentially it’s the old Limited Colony contract, but heavily weighted in the direction of the Proctors’ prejudices. Comichooksco im