The sergeant saluted and prepared to leave the cabin; but suddenly he turned back.
“I didn’t think very much of either of you, a while back,”
he said brutally. “But I’ll tell you this: there must be something about brains that involves guts, too. I’ll back ‘em any time against any critter that lets itself be shot like a fish in a barrelwhatever the odds.”
The Consort of State was still mulling that speech over as the madman’s caricature of an interstellar ship groaned and lifted its lumps and angles from Calle. Who knows, he kept telling himself, who knows, it might even be true.
But he noticed that Robin One was still humming the chorale from Psyche and Eros’, and ahead the galactic night was as black as death.
The End