And there are too
few of us, and we're concentrated in too few places, to last long if
that happened. What this planet needs, though, is a visit by a
fifty-odd-ship task-force of the Space Navy, just to show the geeks
what we have back of us. After a show like that, there'd be a lot less
_znidd suddabit_ around here."
"General, I deplore that sort of talk," Keaveney said. "I hear too
much of this mailed-fist-and-rattling-sabre stuff from some of the
junior officers here, without your giving countenance and
encouragement to it. We're here to earn dividends for the
stockholders of the Ullr Company, and we can only do that by gaining
the friendship, respect and confidence of the natives...."
* * * * *
"Mr. Keaveney," Paula Quinton spoke. "I doubt if even you would
seriously accuse the Extraterrestrials Rights Association of favoring
what you call a mailed fist and rattling sabre policy. We've done
everything in our power to help these people, and if anybody should
have their friendship, we should. Well, only five days ago, in
Konkrook, Mr. Mohammed Ferriera and I were attacked by a mob, our
native aircar driver was murdered, and if it hadn't been for General
von Schlichten and his soldiers, we'd have lost our own lives. Mr.
Ferriera is still hospitalized as a result of injuries he received. It
seems that General von Schlichten and his Kragans aren't trying to get
friendship and confidence; they're willing to settle for respect, in
the only way they can get it--by hitting harder and quicker than the
natives can.
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