Time Crime 
 
The Project Gutenberg EBook of Time Crime, by H. Beam Piper This eBook is for the 
use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may 
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Title: Time Crime 
Author: H. Beam Piper 
Release Date: April 11, 2006 [EBook #18151] 
Language: English 
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TIME CRIME *** 
 
Produced by Greg Weeks, Sankar Viswanathan, and the Online Distributed Proofreading 
Team at http://www.pgdp.net 
 
Transcriber's note. 
This etext was produced from Astounding Science Fiction Magazine February and March 
1955. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the copyright on this 
publication was renewed. 
 
TIME CRIME 
BY H. BEAM PIPER 
_First of Two Parts. The Paratime Police had a real headache this time! Tracing one man 
in a population of millions is easy--compared to finding one gang hiding out on one of 
billions of probability lines!_ 
Illustrated by Freas
[Illustration:] 
 
ASTOUNDING SCIENCE-FICTION 
Kiro Soran, the guard captain, stood in the shadow of the veranda roof, his white cloak 
thrown back to display the scarlet lining. He rubbed his palm reflectively on the 
checkered butt of his revolver and watched the four men at the table. 
"And ten tens are a hundred," one of the clerks in blue jackets said, adding another stack 
to the pile of gold coins. 
"Nineteen hundreds," one of the pair in dirty striped robes agreed, taking a stone from the 
box in front of him and throwing it away. Only one stone remained. "One more hundred 
to pay." 
One of the blue-jacketed plantation clerks made a tally mark; his companion counted out 
coins, ten and ten and ten. 
Dosu Golan, the plantation manager, tapped impatiently on his polished boot leg with a 
thin riding whip. 
[Illustration:] 
"I don't like this," he said, in another and entirely different language. "I know, chattel 
slavery's an established custom on this sector, and we have to conform to local usages, 
but it sickens me to have to haggle with these swine over the price of human beings. On 
the Zarkantha Sector, we used nothing but free wage-labor." 
"Migratory workers," the guard captain said. "Humanitarian considerations aside, I can 
think of a lot better ways of meeting the labor problem on a fruit plantation than by 
buying slaves you need for three months a year and have to feed and quarter and clothe 
and doctor the whole twelve." 
"Twenty hundreds of obus," the clerk who had been counting the money said. "That is the 
payment, is it not, Coru-hin-Irigod?" 
"That is the payment," the slave dealer replied. 
The clerk swept up the remaining coins, and his companion took them over and put them 
in an iron-bound chest, snapping the padlock. The two guards who had been loitering at 
one side slung their rifles and picked up the chest, carrying it into the plantation house. 
The slave dealer and his companion arose, putting their money into a leather bag; 
Coru-hin-Irigod turned and bowed to the two men in white cloaks. 
"The slaves are yours, noble lords," he said. 
Across the plantation yard, six more men in striped robes, with carbines slung across their
backs, approached; with them came another man in a hooded white cloak, and two guards 
in blue jackets and red caps, with bayoneted rifles. The man in white and his armed 
attendants came toward the house; the six Calera slavers continued across the yard to 
where their horses were picketed. 
"If I do not offend the noble lords, then," Coru-hin-Irigod said, "I beg their sufferance to 
depart. I and my men have far to ride if we would reach Careba by nightfall. The Lord, 
the Great Lord, the Lord God Safar watch between us until we meet again." 
Urado Alatana, the labor foreman, came up onto the porch as the two slavers went down. 
"Have a good look at them, Radd?" the guard captain asked. 
"You think I'm crazy enough to let those bandits out of here with two thousand 
obus--forty thousand Paratemporal Exchange Units--of the Company's money without 
knowing what we're getting?" the other parried. "They're all right--nice, clean, 
healthy-looking lot. I did everything but take them apart and inspect the pieces while they 
were being unshackled at the stockade. I'd like to know where this 
Coru-hin-Whatshisname got them, though. They're not local stuff. Lot darker, and they're 
jabbering among themselves in some lingo I never heard before. A few are wearing some 
rags of clothing, and they have odd-looking sandals. I noticed that most of them showed 
marks of recent whipping. That may mean they're troublesome, or it may just mean that 
these Caleras are a lot    
    
		
	
	
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