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what your big talk comes to after you know what it is. -You can stay behind and try to work boom-time wages out of the Acolytes if you want; but if you've guts, you'll go with us." "Where to?" Amalfi said calmly. "We're going to march on Earth." There was a brief, stunned silence. Then a composite roar began to grow in the hall. Amalfi grinned. The sound of the response was not exactly friendly. "Wait!" the King bellowed. "Wait, dammit! I ask you- what's the sense in our fighting the Acolytes? They're just local trash. They know just as well as we do that they couldn't get away with their slave-market tactics and their private militia and their-shoot-ups if Earth had an eye on 'em." "Then why don't we holler for the Earth cops?" someone demanded. "Because they wouldn't come here. They can't. There must be Okies all over the galaxy that are taking stuff from local systems and clusters, stuff like what we're taking. This depression is everywhere, and there just aren't enough Earth cops to be all over the place at once. "But we don't have to take it. We can go to Earth and demand our rights. We're citizens, every one of us-unless there are any Vegans here. You a Vegan, buddy?" The scarred face stared down at Amalfi, smiling grue-somely. A nervous titter went through the hall. "The rest of us can go to Earth and demand that the government bail us out. What else is government for, anyhow? Who produces the money that kept the politicians fat all through the good centuries? What would the government have to govern and tax and penalize if it weren't for the Okies? Answer me that, you with the orbital fort under your belt!" The laughter was louder and sounded more assured now. Amalfi, however, was quite used to gibes at his pod; such thrusts were for him a sure sign that his current opponent had run out of pertinent things to say. He returned coldly: "More than half of us had charges against us when we came here-not local charges, but violations of Earth orders of one kind or another. Some of us have been dodging being brought back on our Violations dockets for decades. Are you going to offer yourselves to the Earth cops on a platter?" The King did not appear to be listening with more than half an ear. He had Brought up a broad grin at the second wave of laughter, and had been looking back down at Dee for admiration. "We'll send out s&c&ll on the Dirac," he said. "To all Okies, everywhere. 'We're all going back to Earth,' we'll say. 'We're going home to get an accounting. We've done Earth's heavy labor all over the galaxy, and Earth's paid us by turning our money into waste paper. We're going home to see that Earth does something about it'-we'll set a date-'and any Okie with starman's guts will follow us.' How does that sound, eh?" Dee's grip on Amalfi's hand was now tighter than any pressure he would have believed she could exert. Amalfi did not speak to the King; he simply looked back at him, his eyes metallic. From somewhere fairly far back in the throne room, a newly familiar voice called, "The mayor of the nameless city has asked a pertinent luestion. From the point of view of Earth, we're a dangerous collection of potential criminals at worst. At best we're discontented jobless people, and "undesirable in large numbers anywhere near the home planet." Hazleton pushed up to the front row, on the other side of Dee, and glared belligerently up at the King. The King, however, had looked away again, over Hazleton's head. "Anybody got a better idea?" th
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