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The moment I feel that you are not acting for the best interests of Keroth, I will act not only to protect myself, but to protect my people." "That's fair enough," MacMaine said. "But how about the others?" "I cannot speak for my fellow officers only for myself." Then Tallis' voice became cold. "Just keep your hands clean, Sepastian, and all will be well.
Tallis shook his head as though he were puzzled. "Live forever? That's twice or three times you've said something about that. I don't understand you." "Would you consent to live forever as a filthy curse on the lips of every Kerothi old enough to speak?
The officers and men who had night duty were working on the upper floors. Several times, Tallis had to take a handkerchief from his pocket and pretend to blow his nose in order to conceal his alien features from someone who came too close, but no one appeared to notice anything out of the ordinary.
"Good. When do we start?" "Now," said Tallis rising from his chair. "Put on your dress uniform, and we'll go down to see the High Commander. We've got to give you a set of general's insignia, my sibling-by-choice." Tallis waited while MacMaine donned the blue trousers and gold-trimmed red uniform of a Kerothi officer. When he was through, MacMaine looked at himself in the mirror.
But he watched, nonetheless. In one way, Tallis' face was typically Kerothi. The orange-pigmented skin and the bright, grass-green eyes were common to all Kerothi. The planet Keroth, like Earth, had evolved several different "races" of humanoid, but, unlike Earth, the distinction was not one of color.
Yes, I would consent to that if it would be the only salvation of Keroth." "Would you slaughter helpless millions of your own people so that other billions might survive? Would you ruthlessly smash your system of government and your whole way of life if it were the only way to save the people themselves?" "I'm beginning to see what you're driving at," Tallis said slowly.
"I see nothing but a pickaxe and shovel." "Ha! very good; 'nothing but a pickaxe and shovel. Well, to resume: facts of the case Roger Tallis murders the jeweller, and you murder Roger Tallis; after that, as you say, 'nothing but a pickaxe and shovel." And with this, as I am a living sinner, the rosy-faced old boy took up his flute and blew a stave or two of "Come, Lasses and Lads."
Then, without haste, he took the gun and inspected it with a professional eye. "Do you know how to operate it?" MacMaine asked, forcing calmness into his voice. "Yes. We've captured plenty of them." Tallis thumbed the stud that allowed the magazine to slide out of the butt and into his hand. Then he checked the mechanism and the power cartridges.
He had no time to shift his gaze to the face of his new C.O., who was snuffling his way toward the foot of the landing ramp. MacMaine kept firing questions until Tallis was halfway up the ramp. Then he said: "Oh, by the way, captain was the large package containing General Quinby's personal gear brought aboard?" "The big package? Yes, sir. About fifteen minutes ago." "Good," said MacMaine.
Maybe I should have just shot you while you were unconscious. That would have been kinder to both of us, I think. But ... but, Tallis, I had to tell somebody. Someone else has to know. Someone else has to judge. Or maybe I just want to unload it on someone else, someone who will carry the burden with me for just a little while. I don't know." "Sepastian, what are you talking about?"
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