A long sigh went up.
"It is for us," Blunt said softly, treasuring each word, "to restore these unhappy maidens to their original human rights.
"But it isn't going to be easy," Blunt went on. His voice dropped even lower. "Think what would happen if it went sour. Those Doctors would get wind of it. We'd be stuck in the Ship for the rest of the Exploration."
There was a sober pause. Finally Banks cleared his throat and said, "Well, how do you think it should be handled, Blunt?"
"Well, every beachhead needs an invasion," Blunt said, casually holding out his glass. O'Connors leapt to fill it. "One guy has got to lay the groundwork. Let him enlighten one quail. Explain things to her." He took a long, leisurely drink, and sighed. "This quail will rush around telling the others. Pretty soon there'll be so many hanging around the ship that—"
There was a general rush for cooling beverages.
"Right," someone said, when the faculty of speech was recovered.
"And necessarily," said Blunt, "this has to be the guy with the most savvy. The one who knows the score. The one most likely to succeed. Check?"
All knew what this was leading up to. Martin said unhappily, "Check, Blunt, You're our boy."
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