She looked at him, and her contempt was as tangible as a slap across
the face. "You are a child. Just a baby. You don't dream of the
sciences that Rudra will employ. He can sweep your Earth-empire ahead
of him as a breeze takes a dry leaf. Look about you. See the cones, the
globes, and ask yourself--can your science duplicate them? And then
ask, if Rudra, the Werwile, smashed a civilization that could produce
all this, what will he do against Earth?"
The fear in the blue eyes touched Travis then, under the leather of his
belt. His stomach tightened. Nervously, he licked at his dry lips. He
thought of Mars Port, of New York Terminal, of the giant spacers that
plied the starways throughout the System, of the jewels and food and
riches they carried in their holds. He thought of his Iowa home, of his
parents. He visualized that culture, those people, all smashed.