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Updated: May 23, 2025
The invaders outnumber us. They've got us cut off by a blockade, to keep us from sending out the harvest. They've got machines and weapons." He looked up suddenly, his bright blue eyes looking straight into Anketam's. "How do we know?" Anketam's grin was hard. "Look, Jac; the invaders have said that they intend to smash our whole society, haven't they? Haven't they?" Jacovik nodded.
In twenty-two years, he had not used his fists except to discipline one of his crew, and that had only happened four times that Anketam knew of. Jacovik had shown that he had ability as well as strength, that he could control men by words as well as by force, and The Chief had made him a supervisor. He had proved himself worthy of the job; next to Anketam, he was the best supervisor in the barony.
But ... well ... I mean, why pick me?" Old Blejjo chuckled knowingly. Jacovik, who hardly knew the boy, just looked puzzled. "Why not you?" Anketam countered. "Well ... you've always said I was lazy. And I am, I guess." "Sure you are," said Anketam. "So am I. Always have been. But a smart lazy man can figure out things that a hard worker might overlook.
He turned to face the dark, squat, hard-looking man who had spoken. "It couldn't be, Jacovik. It couldn't be." The other supervisor looked down at his big, knuckle-scarred hands instead of looking at Anketam.
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