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Updated: May 12, 2025
His news-reports were accounts of the doings not of angels or devils but of human beings, accounts written from a thoroughly human standpoint. Here lay the cause of his success.
"It's most interesting," admitted Bors. "But " "Now Harms," said Morgan, "reads news-reports. He's specialized on those brought back by Gwenlyn and by you. He guesses at the news behind the news and he knows when he's hit it. He'll tell Madame Porvis the facts, she'll weave them into a fantasy and they'll spread like wildfire. Of course she can't plant new subjects in people's minds.
He lingered long enough to make a few preparations at Mount Vernon. He wrote another letter to Fairfax, interesting to us as showing the keenness with which he read in the meagre news-reports the character of Gage and of the opposing people of Massachusetts. Then he started for the North to take the first step on the long and difficult path that lay before him.
He was stuck with just that kind of duty now. But he fretted. The local officials were given time to get over their panic. They ought to be planning some counter-measure by this time. He called the spaceport office. "There should be a map of the city somewhere about," he said crisply. "Send it along special. Bring a communicator call-book. If you find any news-reports, new or old, we want them."
"How do you know that?" demanded Bors. "The Department for Predicting Dirty Tricks was reading old news-reports," she told him. "We're leaving now. 'Bye." "Goodbye," said Bors, and sighed, not knowing whether he felt regret or relief. The space-yacht Sylva flicked out of sight. It had gone into overdrive. Bors realized that he hadn't noticed which way it pointed. He should have taken note.
Communication had been three-way, and Gwenlyn said quickly; "Just a moment! Did you pick up any news-reports on Tralee?" "Hm. Yes. I'd better send them " "You'd better?" echoed Gwenlyn, scolding. "My father stayed with the fleet to try to explain what Talents, Incorporated can do! He kept most of the Talents with him, for demonstrations! The Department for Predicting Dirty Tricks is there!
Don't you remember what that Department works on? Of course you've got to send those news-reports!" Bors ordered a space-boat to come from the cargo-ship for the reports. "Would you like to come to dinner on the yacht?" asked Gwenlyn. "You're all living on emergency rations. Nobody asked us to divide our supplies with the fleet. I can give you a nice meal."
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