“And the other half?”
Aikens shrugged his shoulders.
“Have you assumed that the natives would be armed?”
“No.”
“Suppose we armed them and trained them -.. couldn’t we gradually extend our protection to the whole planet, then?”
Aikens hesitated a moment, then, looking at Altai, he answered, “We could arm the natives and train them briefly. But could we trust them?”
Vorgens replied instantly, “They’re trusting us, brigadier. So I guess we’ll have to trust them.”
“I see.”
“It’s a good plan,” Vorgens said. “Please take the necessary steps to put it into operation immediately, and contact the garrison commanders at the four cities we now hold. Tell them that you’ll be taking some 6f the stocks from their arsenals to give to the natives.”
Aikens glowered. “I will do so only under protest.”
“Do it any way you like,” Vorgens said. “But do it.”
After Aikens and his staff had cleared out of the control center, Altai said, “I would like to go to Matara briefly and see my uncle once more. It looks as though we’ll be fighting again soon, and I’d like to visit him while I can.”
“All right,” Vorgens said. “I’d like to see him, too. Sergeant, how long would it take us to drive over to Matara?”
Mclntyre thought for a moment. “I could get you there on a scrambler before nightfall.”
The farmer’s truck was ancient and slow. Sittas, already bone-weary from a solid week of pleading and cajoling with the rebel leaders at Capital City, was even too tired to pay attention to the flaming colors of the sky as Oran dipped behind the hills that surrounded Matara. Soon they would be back at the hospital, and he could rest. The farmer, sitting in the driver’s seat, was too awed by his unexpected guest to utter a word throughout the long, hot, dusty trip.