"No. I merely have reason to respect your judgment."
"You are a true diplomat, Lindoo. Someday it will get you into trouble."
"When it does, that is a sign that I am not as good a diplomat as I
thought I was."
"Or that someone has exceeded you, Lindoo."
"I might wear out--"
"No. When you fail, Lindoo, it will be because you have confronted
yourself with your superior."
"And then?"
"Then the Lord of All will have a new Head of Strategy."
Lindoo laughed. "At that time I shall expect you to need one. Well, I
must start preparation. I have much to do."
"You have," nodded Vorgan.
Throughout the lands and planets of the Loard-vogh there started a
slow and gradual crawl. The forces of the Loard-vogh began to move
slowly, like the rivers of the ocean. They could be felt; slowly and
inexorably, though they could not be seen. Throughout a thousand suns
the soldiery left their billets in twos and threes. They bade good-by
to their temporary homes, kissed their slave-lovers and serf-women
farewell and faced new fields. They collected along the frontier,
planets full of brawling Loard-vogh that swarmed like the all-consuming
locusts. They fought among themselves. They stole and they looted,
and they took souvenirs of value. Native women--some of them the
intellectual superiors of the Loard-vogh--were not safe on the streets,
and the fighting was not without its overwhelming toll of innocent
bystanders.
Somehow it was very few of the Loard-vogh that got hurt.
And the planets began to pile deep with equipment. It was a real
springboard, this planet frontier. Like a storm cloud collecting
electrons, they would pile up to the bursting point and then with a
crackle and a flash of lightning, they would hurl themselves across
space to blast the focal point.
Terra!