"Couldn't sleep thinking of the profit you'd passed up. Here, let me take that one. We have to get out of here fast." Jarth Rolan fluttered anxiously about the pilot until they were safely above the poisoned atmosphere. "How many?" he asked. "Did we fill the ship?" Lan Barda checked off items on his clipboard. "A thousand and three, with these last ones. You'll make a good profit." "Not so much the profit. Oh, no. More than that involved. Ethics and religion, Lan. Yes. With all these sla--servants, our people will never have to use robots. They'll be relieved of routine labor and can devote their lives to art and science. And it's all ethical--oh, yes, for these people were doomed." "Want to know something, Jarth?" Lan Barda bent closer and whispered wickedly. "This ship has automatic controls. Has to. No living being has fast enough reactions to handle an interstellar ship. All robot driven, at least in part." "Robots! May we be forgiven!" Jarth stared suspiciously at Lan Barda. "Sometimes, Lan, I think you are an agnostic." The pilot became more serious. "Maybe, Jarth. In our work, we must use robots. We joke about it, but it goes against all galactic belief to let a machine think for us. Maybe that's why we pilots are so cynical." "A galactic is always ethical," said Jarth Rolan solemnly. "This affair, for example. We let these poor creatures of Earth handle their own affairs with no interference until they doomed themselves. It was unethical to intervene a minute sooner. Yes--the ethical way and I feel better for it and proud to be a galactic." "That's true," said Lan Barda. "A galactic wouldn't feel right, being a member of the dominant race of the Galaxy, if he didn't help the less fortunate." * * * * * Jarth Rolan had prepared a center on his estate for the slaves. The demand was greater than the supply. He chatted happily with his wife. "An excellent investment, Shalla--yes. And the highest group council wants us to lease them out by the day for the present instead of selling outright." She nodded. "That's the fair way. Everybody can have a turn having a slave." "And," said Jarth, rubbing his pink hands, "we'll collect every day and still hold title." "Will they multiply fast," asked Shalla, "so there will be enough for all?" "They always did on Earth. Yes. By the time we pass our estate on to our son, this investment will have multiplied in value." At the center, the slaves clustered about the bulletin boards to read the slave code. The three who had been brought aboard last stood together. Laurent Crotier and his wife Jean were still in their wedding clothes, and Sam the taxi driver was in uniform. They read the seven articles of the slave code. "We have to work twelve hours a day," Laurent observed. "And have off every seventh day. This could be worse." "We'll keep our eyes open and wait for our chance," Sam piped up. "Some day we'll make a break out of here."