"We can't base the whole economy of a planet on
brandy. Only about ten per cent of the arable land on Poictesme will
grow wine-melons. And if we start exporting Federation salvage the way
you talk of, we'll be selling pieces instead of job lots. We'll net
more, but--"
"That's just to get us started. The ships will be used, after that, to
get to Tubal-Cain and Hiawatha and the planets of the Beta and Gamma
Systems. What I want to see is the mines and factories reopened, people
employed, wealth being produced."
"And where'll we sell what we produce? Remember, the mines closed down
because there was no more market."
"No more interstellar market, that's true. But there are a hundred and
fifty million people on Poictesme. That's a big enough market and a big
enough labor force to exploit the wealth of the Gartner Trisystem. We
can have prosperity for everybody on our own resources. Just what do we
need that we have to get from outside now?"
His father stopped again and sat down on the edge of a fountain--the
same one, possibly, from which Conn had seen dust blowing as the airship
had been coming in.
"Conn, that's a dangerous idea.
Pages:
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47