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WITH FRIENDS LIKE THESE . ..
humming, straining with the awkward unit to stay no-‘ ground. Close by.
Tang Lang settled himself, making an elaborate ritual out of it. Once set, he would not move again until it was time to kill. He tested the footing of the platform, found it pleasantly firm. T’ang was old and knowledgeable. This would be a good place. He carefully spread out and arranged his weapons, ready for instant use. Then he assumed the Ben-na, the position of contemplation. For T’ang was also something of a philosopher and had no intention of wasting away his waiting time.
It had been claimed by others, probably even the city-folk, that if Tang’s people had ever decided to pool the wisdom they’d accumulated over the millennia, they could form the most destructive society their world had ever known.
But there was a spark in T’ang Lang, an unquenchable streak of individualism that precluded any such cooperation. Fraternizing was discouraged. Besides, were they not rulers individually? How much better than to submit to a central authority, as the city-builders had done! Tang’s people knew they were superior. And each considered himself superior to his brother.
A small base on which to try and raise a social order.
T’ang found much of interest and pleasure in the harmony of the world. The sun rained down steadily, wombishly wannthful. An occasional breeze trekked across his platform. Across the great Green Plain that was the most dominant physical feature of his world, other light-eaters were busy at their work.