We listened, but right then Mike was more interested in Polly. About that he displayed good sense.
Bill's Banshee III and my Thor are between-trips at the same time, so it was only natural that we got together last night. And when we met Miu Tlenow, the Venusian cat-man, it was also natural that we head immediately for the Ursa Major Tavern.
"Mewargh!" Tlenow purred, extending and retracting his clawlike fingernails with pleasure as the second drink took hold. "Really it is good to get away from that madhouse."
"What madhouse?" Bill asked.
"Mars."
We sat up straighter. Somehow in the five years that had passed without authentic news from the Red Planet we had taken it for granted that things there had settled down once more to a slow, lethargic normality. We hadn't realized the full impact of Mike, as amplified by the Hustic.
"Those Martians!" Tlenow mewled, his whiskers twitching in agitated disgust. "They are crazy. All crazy. They mate, but they use no sense in how they mate. Like Earthmen. Such complications! They have many different governments with a hundred different political parties, and they talk and talk, vote and vote. They argue.
"Things like Earthmen's gloves they make. Of course they will not fit Martian hands and they carry them only to hit in each other's faces. Then they fight duels.
"They make liquor and drink it, and how crazy-drunk they get. Then, Great Space, they even try to sing!