ONE:"No," very decisively, to a big-waisted, dark-bearded man; "you can't git no permit here to open no shebang in camp or anywheres near. Too many like you out there now. We're goin' to root 'em all out soon. They're all sellin' whisky on the sly, and every last one of 'em orter be in jail.""Good are the masters."
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ONE:"Yes, and I'll give you the canteen now and the money after we find the boys.""General, I've found your cow, and got the man who took her," said the officer.
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ONE:"There are no elders. My name Hortat.""I don't know," Dodd said. His hands went back into his lap, and his eyes closed. He spoke, now, like a man in a dream. "There used to be all kinds of jobs. I guess there still are, in the Confederation. On Earth. Back home where none of us have ever been." He repeated the words like an echo: "Back home." In the silence nothing interrupted him: behind his head light poured in from the giant window. "A man could choose his own job," he went on, in the same tone. "He could be a factory-worker or a professor or a truck-driver or a musician ora lot of jobs. A man didn't have to work at one, whether he wanted to or not."
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ONE:
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ONE:Cadnan hissed in anguish. She had to understand.... "What do I say that is wrong? You must""We aint no drummer-boys," said a bright-faced five-footer, who overhead the question. "Nary drum for us. We haint got no ear for music. We're regular soldiers, we are, and don't you forget it."
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