e, be
tricked into voting assent to our own undoing. But in this, they have
failed. Our chief-slaves have warned us of the trap concealed in this
constitution written by the Proconsul, Count Erskyll. My faithful Tchall
Hozhet has shown me all the pitfalls in this infamous document...."

Obray, Count Erskyll, was staring in dismay at the screen. Then he began
cursing blasphemously, the first time he had ever been heard to do so,
and, as he was at least nominally a Pantheist, this meant blaspheming
the entire infinite universe.

"The rats! The dirty treacherous rats! We came here to help them, and
look; they've betrayed us...!" He lost his voice in a wheezing sob, and
then asked: "Why did they do it? Do they want to go on being slaves?"

Perhaps they did. It wasn't for love of their Lords-Master; he was sure
of that. Even from the beginning, they had found it impossible to
disguise their contempt....

Then he saw Olvir Nikkolon stop short and thrust out his arm, pointing
directly below the pickup, and as he watched, something green-gray, a
remote-control contragravity lorry, came floating into the field of the
screen. One of the vehicles that had been sent down from the _Empress
Eulalie_ for use at the uranium mines. As it lifted and advanced toward
the center of the room, the other Lords-Master were springing to their
feet.

[Illustration]

Vann Shatrak also sprang to his feet, reaching the controls of the
screen and cutting the sound. He was just in time to save them from
being, at least temporarily, deafened, for no sooner had he silenced the
speaker than the lorry vanished in a flash that filled the entire room.

When the dazzle left their eyes, and the smoke and dust began to clear,
they saw the Convocation Chamber in wreckage, showers of plaster and
bits of plastiboard still falling from above. The gold and onyx bench
was broken in a number of places; the Chiefs of Management in front of
it, and the Presidium above, had vanished. Among the benches lay
black-clad bodies, a few still moving. Smoke rose from burning clothing.
Admiral Shatrak put on the sound again; from the screen came screams and
cries of pain and fright.

Then the doors on the two long sides opened, and red-brown uniforms
appeared. The soldiers advanced into the Chamber, unslinging rifles and
submachine guns. Unheeding the still falling plaster, they moved
forward, firing as they came. A few of them slung their firearms and
picked up Master