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Updated: May 8, 2025
Vacancies were filled by election on nomination of the surviving members. The Presidium appointed the Chiefs of Managements, who also served for life. At least, it had stability. It was self-perpetuating. "Does the Convocation make the laws?" Erskyll asked. Hozhet was perplexed. "Make laws, Lord Proconsul? Oh, no. We have laws."
"All governments have a little blood here and there on their hands; you've seen this by screen instead of reading about it in a history book, but that shouldn't make any difference. And you've said, yourself, that the Masters would have to be eliminated. You've told Chmidd and Hozhet and the others that, repeatedly.
Your people have recorders; are they on?" Hozhet asked Chmidd; Chmidd asked the herald, who asked one of the menials in the rear, who asked somebody else. The reply came back through the same channels; they were. "Very well. At this time tomorrow, we will speak to the Convocation of Lords-Master.
"What do you think this Commonwealth will develop into, under Chmidd and Hozhet and Khouzhik and the rest?" Lanze Degbrend asked, to keep the lecture going. "Oh, a slave-state, of course; look who's running it, and whom it will govern. Not the kind of a slave-state we can do anything about," he hastened to add.
"Well, just the same, I wish some reenforcements would get here from Odin," Shatrak said. Erskyll was busy, in the days before the Midyear Feasts, either conferring at the Citadel with the ex-slaves who were the functional heads of the Managements or at the Proconsular Palace with Hozhet and Chmidd and the chief-freedmen of the influential Convocation leaders and Presidium members.
"We don't know anything about that at all," Khreggor Chmidd admitted. "This is something new. You will have to help us." "I certainly will, Mr. Chmidd. Suppose you form a committee yourself, and Mr. Hozhet, and three or four others; select them among yourselves and we can get together and talk over what will be needed. And another thing. We'll have to stop calling this the Mastership.
"They are spacemen of the Imperial Navy," Shatrak roared. "Call one a slave to his face and you'll get a rifle-butt in yours. And I shan't lift a finger to stop it." He glared at Chmidd and Hozhet. "Who had the infernal impudence to send slaves to deal with the Empire? He needs to be taught a lesson." "Why, I was sent by the Lord-Master Olvir Nikkolon, and...." "Tchall!" Chmidd hissed at him.
"We cannot speak to Lords-Master. We must speak to their chief-slaves." "But they have no slaves," Hozhet objected. "Didn't you hear the ... the one with the small beard ... say so?" "But that's ridiculous, Khreggor. Who does the work, and who tells them what to do? Who told these people to come here?" "Our Emperor sent us. That is his picture, behind me. But we are not his slaves.
He is merely the chief man among us. Do your Masters not have one among them who is chief?" "That's right," Chmidd said to Hozhet. "In the Convocation, your Lord-Master is chief, and in the Mastership, my Lord-Master, Rovard Javasan, is chief." "But they don't tell the other Lords-Master what to do. In Convocation, the other Lords-Master tell them...."
"This is a ship of the Galactic Empire," he told them. "In the Empire, there are no slaves. Can you understand that?" Evidently not. The huge one, Khreggor Chmidd, turned to the skull-faced Tchall Hozhet, saying: "Then they must all be Lords-Master." He saw the objection to that at once. "But how can one be a Lord-Master if there are no slaves?"
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