?" He
grinned.

"Some guy sets himself up a shack up valley, see? Starts a fixit
joint. Looks real legit. Even with muscle hardware, he can put out
jobs faster'n them people can get parts from way down Talburg way,
see.

"And he gets in with the joes, too. They got their troubles getting
things made up for 'em. So this guy gives them a hand. Even working
cheap, he picks up some change there, too, and one way or another, the
guy's got a living, see?" He glanced back at Holme.

"Only now and then, here comes a few guys in the back door, they want
a special job, see, for real special pay. And there's your ice cream
and cake. And maybe a little stack for later on."

"I don't know." Stan picked up a book. "I'd rather try playing 'em on
the table for a while. It might beat getting flashed and dropped back
in."

Big Carl shrugged and crawled back into his bunk.

"Aagh, can happen to anybody," he said. "Just keep this under your
hair. Smart kids like you can make out pretty good, you just use your
heads. Ain't nothing down Talburg way, though." He yawned.

"Well, I've had it. Got into it with that Wanzor again, out on the
pile. Give one of them joes a boost, he gets three meters high." He
yawned again and turned toward the wall.

* * * * *

Stan flipped the pages of the book. He had still been unable to put
his finger on the point at which Kellonia had ceased to be a planet of
free citizens and become the planetary prison he had found himself on.

There had been no sudden change--no dramatic incident, such as the
high spots in the history of his native Khloris. Here, things had just
drifted from freedom to servitude, with the people dropping their
rights as a man discards outworn clothing.

He leaned back, lowering the book. Kell's planet, he remembered, had
been one of the first star colonies to be founded after the discovery
of the interstellar drive. Settlers had flocked to get passage to the
new, fertile world.

During the first three hundred years, people had spread over the
planet, but the frontier stage had passed and the land of promise had
stabilized, adopted laws, embraced the arts and sciences. One by one,
frontier farms had given way to mechanized food-producing land,
worked by trained technical teams and administered by professional
management.

Kellonia had entered the age of industrialized culture, with the large
individual owner a disappearing species.

Unnotice