having complaints
now about the shortage of slaves--"

"Think of the future. I admit the present situation is difficult. It's
like raising a herd of prize cattle--all expense and no profit at
first. Then the herd is built up and suddenly you're rich."

"But we're putting so much into it--"

"The more we put in, the more we take out. And they're multiplying
rapidly. Remember our new goal of two slaves for each galactic--one
for the day shift and one for the night. It's the only way our people
can live a decent life, freed from routine labor, devoting themselves
to art and science."

"That's right. We work so our children can lead the better life. It's
worth some sacrifice."

The chairman stood up. "Most of us seem willing to endure a little
hardship now for the benefit of our children. I suggest we endorse
this new procedure."

* * * * *

Laurent, Jr., married the girl next door. Laurent celebrated the
wedding with a barrel of beer he had brewed on the farm. Sam became
glassy-eyed and lectured the young couple.

"Just wait for the right time. Rise up and capture their spaceships.
That's what we'll do. We'll go back to Earth and then let them try to
get us off it again."

"But Earth is dead," Laurent, Jr., objected. "We can't live there.
Poisonous radiation."

"By gar!" Laurent drained another brew. "You believe everything they
tell you, hah? We goin' show them sometime. Like Sam says, not now,
but sometime. Maybe me and Sam don't do it, but don't you kids
forget--you not goin' be slaves always. You watch for the right time,
like Sam says."

His son looked dubious. "But what you told me about Earth doesn't
sound so good. Like the way you were so cold and hungry in that shack
in Canada. And Mama walking up five flights in New York after working
all day in the garment factory. And all those wars! Why did you
people spend half your time shooting each other, Dad?"

[Illustration]

Laurent belched indignantly. "By gar, boy! We was free! We don't have
no galactic stand over us, do this, do that. We was free!"

"We don't work so hard," said his son. "And look at old Jarth Rolan
and the others out there--they've given us the day off, but the
galactics are all busy in the fields. Everybody has to work, Dad."

Laurent looked through a slight haze at the masters laboring in the
potato fields. Farm work and teaching and other special assignments
had created a shortage of personal s