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Updated: May 2, 2025
"What Brion wants are facts, Grandpa, not speeches," Hys said. The bent form of the leader of the rebel Nyjord army pushed through the crowd of taller men until he stood next to Krafft. "Simply stated, Brion, your plan succeeded. Krafft relayed your message to me and as soon as I heard it I turned back and met him on his ship. I'm sorry that Telt's dead but he found what we were looking for.
"They fought among themselves and put off a firm decision so long that now they are forced to commit murder." "From what I had heard, I thought that it was the other way around. They call your Nyjord army terrorists." "We are. Because we are an army and we're at war. The idealists at home only understood that when it was too late.
The Nyjord ships carry enough H-bombs to turn the entire planet into an atomic pile. That is what we must stop." Brion looked at the solido on the screen, trying to make some judgment of the man. Bare, horny feet. A bulky, ragged length of cloth around the waist was the only garment. What looked like a piece of green vine was hooked over one shoulder.
But there had always been the off chance that one of the specialists could come up with a new approach. They hadn't; they were all too busy specializing. Outside the sky was darkening. The front entrance guard had been told to let in anyone who came asking for the director. There was nothing else Brion could do until the Nyjord rebels made contact. Irritation bit at him.
And if you make any sudden moves you are liable to break a phone, electrocute yourself, or choke to death. Just see if you can set the transceiver on this frequency for me." Brion wrote the number on a scratch pad and slid it over to the operator. It was the frequency Professor-Commander Krafft had given him for the radio of the illegal terrorists the Nyjord army.
Brion had heard the bombs fall. Yet the Nyjord soldier was here. The two facts couldn't be accepted together. "Would you keep a hold on his arm, sir, just in case," the soldier said, glancing warily at Ulv's blowpipe. "I know what those darts can do." He pulled a microphone from one of his pockets and spoke into it.
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