such damage would take only minutes. Too much
would reduce the loot. So now there was a halt in the firing, and
another component of fear was applied. It was a growling, taunting
voice.

"Nelsen! And all of you silly bladder-brains...! This is Belt Parnay...!
Ever hear of him? Come back from hell, eh? Not with just rocks, this
time! The latest, surest equipment! Want to give up, now, Nelsen--you
and your nice, civilized people? Cripes, what will you cranks try next?
Villages built in nothing and on nothing! Thanks, though. Brother, what
a blowout this is gonna provide!"

Parnay's tone had shifted, becoming mincingly mocking, then hard and
joyful at the end.

Maybe he shouldn't have suggested so plainly what would happen--unless
something was done, soon. Maybe he shouldn't have sounded just a little
bit unsure of himself under all his bluff. Because Nelsen had made
preparations that matched a general human trend. Now, he saw a condition
that fitted in, making an opportunity... So he began to taunt Parnay
back.

"We've got a lot of the latest type rockets to throw, too, Parnay. You'd
have quite a time, trying to take us. But there's more... Just look
behind you, Parnay. And all around. Not too far. Who's silly? Who's the
jerk? Some new guys are in your crowd, I hear? Then they won't have much
against them--they aren't real outlaws. Do you think they want to keep
following you around, stinking in their armor--when what we've got is
what they're bound to want, right now, too? They can hear what I'm
saying, Parnay. Every one of them must have a weapon in his hands. Why,
you stupid clown, you're in a trap! We will give them what they need
most, without them having to risk getting killed. In space, there'll
have to be a lot of things forgotten, but not for you or for the rough
old-timers with you... Come on, you guys out there. There's a folded
bubb right here waiting for each of you. Take it anywhere you want--away
from here, of course... Parnay--big, important Belt Parnay--are you
still alive...?"

Nelsen had his own sneering tone of mockery. He used it to best
advantage--but with fear in his heart. Plenty of his act was only
counter-bluff. But now, as he paused, he heard Two-and-Two Baines'
mournful voice continue the barrage of persuasion.

"Flowers, Parnay? We ain't got many, yet. But you won't care...
Fellas--do you want to keep being pushed around by this loud mouth who
likes to run and lets you sweat for him,