s 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 geeks can."

Somebody down the table--one of the military, of course--said, "Hear,
hear!" Von Schlichten came as close as a man wearing a monocle can to
winking at Paula. Good girl, he thought; she's started playing on the
Army team!

"Well, of course...." Keaveney began. Then he stopped, as a Terran
sergeant came up to the table and bent over Barney Mordkovitz'
shoulder, whispering urgently. The black-bearded brigadier rose
immediately, taking his belt from the back of his chair and putting it
on. Motioning the sergeant to accompany him, he spoke briefly to
Keaveney and then came around the table to where von Schlichten sat,
the Resident-Agent accompanying him.

"Message just came in from Konkrook, general," he said softly. "Sid
Harrington's dead."

It took von Schlichten all of a second to grasp what had been said.
"Good God! When? How?"

"Here's all we know, sir," the sergeant said, giving him a radioprint
slip. "Came in ten minutes ago."

It was an all-station priority telecast. Governor-General Harrington
had died suddenly, in his room, at 2210; there were no details. He
glanced at his watch; it was 2243. Konkrook and Skilk were in the same
time-zone; that was fast work. He handed the slip to Mordkovitz, who
gave it to Keaveney.

"You from the telecast station, sergeant?" he asked. "All right, let's
go."

"Wait a minute, general." Keaveney put out a hand to detain him as he
took his belt and put it on. "How about this?" He gestured nervously
with the radioprint slip.

"Get up and make an announcement, now," von Schlichten told him,
fastening the buckle and hitching his pistol and survival-kit into
place. "It'll be out all over the planet in half an hour. Never hold
news out unnecessarily." He stubbed out his cigarette. "Come on,
sergeant."

As he hurried from the banquet-room, he could hear Keaveney tapping on
his wine-glass.

"Everybody, please! Let me have your attention! There has just come in
a piece of the most tragic news...."

VII.

Bismillah! How Dumb Can We Get?

The lights had come on inside the semicircular and now open
storm-porch of Company House, but it was still daylight outside. The
sky above the mountain to the west was fading from crimson to
bu