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Updated: May 16, 2025
"That's what I thought. Look, Vall; suppose you and Dalla transpose from here to Police Terminal, and go to Novilan Equivalent, and give this a quick look-over and report to me, and then rocket to Zarabar Equivalent and go on with your trip to the Dwarma Sector. It may delay you eight or ten hours, but " "Closer twenty-four," Vall said.
"Vall, you know perfectly well that I wouldn't be happy for an instant on the Dwarma Sector, thinking about this " "All right, then; let's forget about the vacation. You want to stay on for a while and help me with this? It'll be a lot of hard work, but we'll be together." "Yes, of course. I want to do something to smash those devils.
The people of the First Level Dwarma Sector, reduced by sheer starvation to a tiny handful, had abandoned their cities and renounced their technologies and created for themselves a farm-and-village culture without progress or change or curiosity or struggle or ambition, and a way of life in which every day was like every other day that had been or that would come.
"Want some of this, Dalla?" he asked, transferring a slice of ham and a spoonful of wine sauce to his plate. "No, I'll have some of the venison," the black-haired girl beside him said. "And some of the pickled beans. We'll be getting our fill of pork, for the next month." "I thought the Dwarma Sector people were vegetarians," Jandar Jard, the theatrical designer, said.
"Most nonviolent peoples are, aren't they?" "Well, the Dwarma people haven't any specific taboo against taking life," Bronnath Zara, the dark-eyed woman in the brightly colored gown, told him. "They're just utterly noncombative, nonaggressive. When I was on the Dwarma Sector, there was a horrible scandal at the village where I was staying.
"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."
"Hello, Vall. Glad I was able to locate you. When are you and Dalla leaving?" "As soon as we can get away from this luncheon, here. Oh, say an hour. We're taking a rocket to Zarabar, and transposing from there to Passenger Terminal Sixteen, and from there to the Dwarma Sector."
What are you and Vall going to use for a visible means of support, while you're there?" "Oh, I have my mandolin, and I've learned all the traditional Dwarma songs by hypno-mech," Dalla said. "And Transtime Tours is fitting Vall out with a bag of tools; he's going to do repair work and carpentry." "Oh, good; you'll be welcome anywhere," Zara, the sculptress, said.
And if she'd made him refuse, it would have been something ugly between them all the time they would be on the Dwarma Sector. But this way The big circular conveyer room was crowded, as it had been every minute of every day for the past ten thousand years.
Thalvan Dras, the big man with the black beard and the long red coat and cloth-of-gold sash who lounged in the host's seat, laughed. "I can just see Vall mending pots, and Dalla playing that mandolin and singing," he said. "At least, you'll be getting away from police work. I don't suppose they have anything like police on the Dwarma Sector?"
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