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The captain was a little shocked. Was this humorless, methodical android really protesting a command from his Master? “How do you suppose the ten you are putting in status feel about it?” he managed.

“They would doubtlessly prefer not to be overworked. Our fatigue channels can only stand so much.”

But it wasn’t the work, Barnhart suddenly knew. It was the idea that there could be eleven houses, instead of ten. The concept of only ninety quronos and a master must be only slightly less hideous to them. They couldn’t really be so overjoyed to see him.

A third rocket jarred off, rising unsteadily but surely in the low gravity. It was a fairly primitive device—evidently all they retained from the original model supplied them by the Master.

Barnhart looked at the figures on the ground. Only seven.

“The ones in status go into the rockets!” Barnhart gasped.

“And circle in the proper orbits,” the Leader agreed.

This time he saw the quronos lifting a stiff form and taking it to the crude rocket. It looked entirely too much like a human body. Barnhart looked away.