"It isn't as if we've been here forever," Dodd said. "Only--well, a hundred or so of your years. Three generations, counting me. And here we are lording it over you, just because of an accident. We happen to be farther advanced than you, that's all." "You are masters," Cadnan said. "You know everything." "Not quite," Dodd said. "For instance, we don't know about you. You have--well, you have got mates, haven't you? Hell, of course you do. Male or female. Same as us. More or less." "We have mates, when we are ready for mates," Cadnan said. Dodd nodded precariously. "Uh-huh," he said. "Mates. They tell me I need mates, but I tried it and I got into trouble. Mates aren't the answer, kid. Cadnan. They simply aren't the answer." Cadnan thought, suddenly, of Dara. He had not spoken to her again, but he was able to think of her. When the time of mating came, it was possible that she would be his mate.... But that was forbidden, he told himself. They came from the same tree in the same time. The rule forbade such matings. "What we ought to do," Dodd said abruptly, "is we ought to do a thorough anthropological--anthropological study on you people. A really big job. But that's uneconomic, see? Because we know what we have to know. Where to find you, what to feed you, how to get you to work. They don't care about the rest." "The masters are good," Cadnan said stolidly into the silence. "They let me work." "Sure," Dodd said, and shrugged, nearly losing his balance. He recovered, and went on as if nothing at all had happened. "They let you work for them," he said. "And what do you get out of it? Food and shelter and security, I guess. But how would you like to work for yourself instead?" Cadnan stared. "I do not understand," he said slowly. Dodd shook his head. "No," he said. "How would you like it if there were no masters? Only people, just you and your people, living your own lives and making your own decisions? How about that, kid?" "We would be alone," Cadnan said simply. "No master would feed us. We would die." "No," Dodd said again. "What did you do before we came?" "It was different," Cadnan said. "It was not good. This is better." He tried to imagine a world without masters, but the picture would not come. Obviously, then, the world he lived in was better: it was better than nothing. "Slaves," Dodd said to himself. "With a slave mentality." And then: "Tell me, Cadnan, do they all think like you?" Cadnan didn't think of Marvor. By now he was so confused by this strange conversation that his answer was automatic. "We do not talk about it." Dodd looked at him mistily. "I'm disturbing you for nothing," he said. "Nothing I can do but get killed trying to start up a slave revolt. Which might be okay, but I don't know. If you get me--I don't know about that, kid. Right?" He stood up, a little shakily, still leaning against the door. "And frankly," he said, "I don't want to get killed over a lot of alligators."