"Rod? Virgil." He told the story.
"Whew!" Kinnison whistled expressively. "They're not pikers, anyway, are they? What a sweet set-up—and you could wrap it up and hand it to them like a pound of coffee...."
"Or you could, Rod."
"Could be...." The big Lensman ruminated. "But what a hookup! Perfectly legitimate, and with plenty of precedents—and arguments, of a sort—in its favor. The outer planets. Then Alpha Centauri and Sirius and Procyon and so on. Monopoly—all the traffic will bear...."
"Slavery, you mean!" Samms stormed. "It would hold Civilization back for a thousand years!"
"Sure, but what do they care?"
"That's it ... and he said—and actually believed—that they would get it without my help.... I can't help wondering about that."
"Simple enough, Virge, when you think about it. He doesn't know yet what a Lensman is. Nobody does, you know, except Lensmen. It will take some time for that knowledge to get around...."
"And still longer for it to be believed."
"Right. But as to the chance of Interstellar Spaceways ever getting the monopoly they're working for, I didn't think I would have to remind you that it was not entirely by accident that over half of the members of the Solarian Council are Lensmen, and that any Galactic Councillor will automatically have to be a Lensman. So go right ahead with what you started, my boy, and don't give Isaacson and Company another thought. We'll bend an optic or two in that direction while you are gone."