III
Father and Son
Halfway across the planet it was still bright dayBght.
The home of Clanthas, the merchant, was neither particularly large nor well-adomed, It stood at the crest of a hill, flanked by equally good houses, and overlooked the harbor of the small city of Katan. Unlike the four major cities of Shinar, the port city of Katan was not occupied by a Terran garrison.
Until a year earlier, Clanthas had been distinguished from his fellow merchants only by being a shade quickerwitted and, perhaps, blessed with slightly more man his share of good fortune. In those days, before the rebellion against me Terran Empire, Clanthas could be seen during most sunny afternoons of the warm summer sitting on the balcony that spanned his house, either relaxing or conducting business, as the occasion demanded.
It was about a year ago that the first farmers began to trickle into Katan, complaining that the Terrans had driven them off their own soil, so that the land could be used for factories that made synthetic foodstuffs.
Clanthas, whose business depended on buying and selling the farmers’ produce, appealed to the Terran governor. The nutrient processors were necessary, even vital, he was told.
Instead of quietly trying to make the best of the situation, as most of his countrymen did, Clanthas recalled something his son had told him, some quotation from galactic history that the youth was studying at the university:
“A man is free because he has the brains and the courage to stand on his own feet and go his own way. And for a man to remain free, he and his fellow men must be strong enough to resist those who would enslave them.”