“We also think that this Abzar time line was only used for the Croutha-Wizard Trader operation.  Nothing we found there was more than a couple of months old; nothing since the last rainy season in India, for instance.  Everything was cleaned out on Skordran Kirv’s end.”

“Tell him to try the Mississippi, Missouri and Ohio Valleys,” Tortha Karf said.  “A lot of those slaves are sure to have been sold to Second Level Khiftan Sector.”

“Well, it looks as though our vacation’s out the window for a long time,” Dalla said resignedly.

“Why don’t you and Vall go to my farm, on Fifth Level Sicily,” Tortha Karf suggested.  “I own the whole island, on that time line, and you can always be reached in a hurry if anything comes up.”

“We could have as much fun there as on the Dwarma Sector,” Dalla said.  “Chief, could we take a couple of friends along?”

“Well, who?”

“Zinganna and Kostran Galth,” she replied.  “They’ve gotten interested in one another; they’re talking about a tentative marriage.”

“It’ll have to be mighty tentative,” Vall said.  “Kostran Galth can’t marry a Prole.”

“She won’t be a Prole very long.  I’m going to adopt her as my sister.”

Tortha Karf looked at her sharply.  “You sure you know what you’re doing, Dalla?” he asked.

“Of course I’m sure.  I know that girl better than she knows herself.  I narco-hypped her, remember.  Zinna’s the kind of a sister I’ve always wished I’d had.”

“Well, that’s all right then.  But about this marriage.  She was in love with Salgath Trod,” Tortha Karf said.  “Now, she’s identifying Agent Kostran with him—­”

“She was in love with the kind of man Salgath could have been if he hadn’t gotten into this Organization filth,” Dalla replied.  “Galth is that kind of a man.  They’ll get along all right.”

“Well, she’ll qualify on IQ and general psych rating for Citizenship.  I’ll say that.  And she’s the kind of girl I like to see my boys take up with.  Like you, Dalla.  Yes, of course; take them along with you.  Sicily’s big enough that two couples won’t get in each others’ way.”

A phone-robot, its slender metal stem topped by a metal globe, slid into the room on its ball-rollers, moving falteringly, like a blind man.  It could sense Tortha Karf’s electro-encephalic wave-patterns, but it was having trouble locating the source.  They all sat motionless, waiting; finally it came over to Tortha Karf’s chair and stopped.  He unhooked the phone and held a lengthy whispered conversation with somebody before replacing it.

“Now, there,” he explained to Dalla.  “That’s a sample of why we have to set up this duplicate organization.  Revolution just broke out at Ftanna, on Third Level Tsorshay Sector; a lot of our people, mostly tourists and students, are cut off from their conveyers by street fighting.  Going to be a pretty bloody business getting them out.”  He finished his drink and got to his feet.  “Sit still; I just have to make a few screen-calls.  Send the robot for something to eat, Vall.  I’ll be right back.”