Joseph sighed. "All right," he said. "In principle I agree. The colonies must be free. But is there no other way than murder and assassination? This violence—what can come of it? And if the revolution succeeds eventually, how can we know the Federation will not be replaced by the same thing under another name?"
"Because you will govern yourselves," Wolf said. "Every Colony will be autonomous, trading as a sovereign nation with the other Colonies. The idea of a Galactic Empire is self-defeating, Joseph, it is unhealthy, vicious. The only way man can go to the stars with his head up, is without dreams of infinite power blinding him."
"You are an idealist," said the ferret-eyed man, with surprise.
"A man must live for something," said Wolf, quietly.
"Certainly, certainly," the thin man agreed quickly. "I was surprised to find an idealist in your—trade."
"My trade is as distasteful to me as it is to you," said Wolf, speaking more to Joseph Carroll than to the pale, thin man.
"What will the death of Mayne Landing accomplish?" Carroll asked.
"Confusion. He is the Administrator of over one hundred planets. He is a strong man, a focal point. Without him, without his personal strength, the administration of those planets will falter, and stop. It isn't that he carries on the routine work, of course. But decisions come from him, the decisions that cannot be made by routine, the decisions that require a man's creative spark. Without that, the routine itself cannot stand."
"It rather sounds as if you respect the man," said Carroll.
"Respect him? I—" Wolf hesitated, uncertain. "Yes," he finished. "I respect him. He is doing what he thinks is right, as I do what I think is right."