The girl, who had begun to listen in the bored manner of public servants phone girls, was staring wide-eyed.

“Just a moment, Councilman Salgath; I’ll put you through to Chief Tortha.”

* * * * *

The dinner lacked a half hour of being served; Thalvan Dras’ guests loitered about the drawing room, sampling appetizers and chilled drinks and chatting in groups.  It wasn’t the artistic crowd usual at Thalvan Dras’ dinners; most of the guests seemed to be business or political people.  Thalvan Dras had gotten Vall and Dalla into the small group around him, along with pudgy, infantile-faced Brogoth Zaln, his confidential secretary, and Javrath Brend, his financial attorney.

“I don’t see why they’re making such a fuss about it,” one of the Banking Cartel people was saying.  “Causing a lot of public excitement all out of proportion to the importance of the affair.  After all, those people were slaves on their own time line, and if anything, they’re much better off on the Esaron Sector than they would be as captives of the Croutha.  As far as that goes, what’s the difference between that and the way we drag these Fourth Level Primitive Sector-Complex people off to Fifth Level Service Sector to work for us?”

“Oh, there’s a big difference, Farn,” Javrath Brend said.  “We recruit those Fourth Level Primitives out of probability worlds of Stone Age savagery, and transpose them to our own Fifth Level time lines, practically outtime extensions of the Home Time Line.  There’s absolutely no question of the Paratime Secret being compromised.”

[Illustration:]

“Beside, we need a certain amount of human labor, for tasks requiring original thought and decision that are beyond the ability of robots, and most of it is work our Citizens simply wouldn’t perform,” Thalvan Dras added.

“Well, from a moral standpoint, wouldn’t these Esaron Sector people who buy the slaves justify slavery in the same terms?” a woman whom Vall had identified as a Left Moderate Council Member asked.

“There’s still a big difference,” Dalla told her.  “The ServSec Proles aren’t beaten or tortured or chained; we don’t break up families or separate friends.  When we recruit Fourth Level Primitives, we take whole tribes, and they come willingly.  And—­”

One of Thalvan Dras’ black-liveried human servants, of the class under discussion, approached Vall.

“A visiphone call for your lordship,” he whispered.  “Chief Tortha Karf calling.  If your lordship will come this way—­”

In a screen-booth outside, Vall found Tortha Karf looking out of the screen; he was seated at his desk, fiddling with a gold multicolor pen.

“Oh, Vall; something interesting has just come up.”  He spoke in a voice of forced calmness.  “I can’t go into it now, but you’ll want to hear about it.  I’m sending a car for you.  Better bring Dalla along; she’ll want in on it, too.”