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They might accept it, conditioned by centuries of trust in Rangers, but that wouldn't end the war in itself. It could even make it worse. Still . . . while humans, as might be expected, wanted a Traiti unconditional surrender, few would feel justified in condoning or taking part in the genocide such a surrender's impossibility would mean.
An essential aspect of world government will be a population program designed to adjust social structure and planning to the means of production and to make generally available to all humans and, where possible, all living things, the results of invention, discovery and experience with affluence, general security and wide variations of vocational and avocational choice.
Dammit, humans and Traiti had been at war for years, and he was human in everything but the past day's experiences! Well, he was adapting; that was another fact he had to accept. He returned Hovan's smile and touched one of the deadly claws. "I'm in your hands." Morning at Ch'kara's main clanhome on Norvis came in the middle of Hovan's sleep period.
"We're in a fix, yes!" he said insistently. "It does look like there may be a flock of other space ship landings within days. But the monsters don't want to kill people. They want a world with people working for them, not dead. They've proved it. They'll avoid massacres. They won't let the humans who're their allies destroy the people they want alive and useful." Jill clenched her fists.
If it is the nature of Humans to kill, the same as it is the nature of birds and animals to kill, where is the sense and justice of trying the prisoner for what she can't help doing?" "Good!" said the Welcome Swallow, "argued like a lawyer." At this unexpected turn of the trial the Judge softly whistled to himself, "Pop goes the weasel."
What will be the influence of her supernaturalism and witchcraft upon the children intrusted to her fostering care—whether they will in after life prove to be devils, demi-gods, heroes, or mere ordinary “humans,” time alone can show.
Yet even before the heathen were out she had brought home a girl the Sculptor Girl, the first of those starry-eyed young humans who were to call the house their own. It happened this way. She set forth on a cloudy, threatening over-warm morning, Babiche under her arm, toward a new address, a morning so palpably "growing" that she longed to be planting.
It wasn't surprising that the Lhari, who had only been traveling space for a couple of thousand years themselves, had never come across humans before. But they had been delighted to meet another intelligent race and it was extremely profitable. Because men were still held, mostly, to the planets of their own star-systems.
As for Lad, he was still atingle with excitement. The noisy praise of those babbling humans had bothered him; and he had been glad to escape it. Lad hated to be mauled or talked to by strangers. But the Mistress's tremulous squeeze and her shuddering whisper of "Oh, Laddie! LADDIE!" had shown she was proud of him. And this flattered and delighted Lad, past all measure. He had acted on impulse.
But I'll try to clean it up as quickly as possible. I'm pretty sure of the fluke, and it's a hard one to control." "Hepatodirus?" Kennon nodded. "That's an offworld parasite, isn't it?" "Yes. It originated on Santos. Parasitized the Varl originally, but liked humans better. It's adapted to a hundred different planetary environments, and it keeps spreading.
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