"Is there a local hero named Joe?" I asked.
"No, no, nothing like that," he assured me. "It's a simple culture, you know. Not nearly as developed as Mars."
"I can see that," I said bitingly.
"And the natives are only now becoming acquainted with Terran culture. Lots of enlisted men, you know."
I began to get the idea. And I began to appreciate Walsh's doubtful ancestry more keenly.
"It's impossible to tell exactly where it all started, of course," Bransten was saying.
I was beginning to get angry. Very angry. I was thinking of Walsh sitting back in a nice cozy foam chair back on Earth.
"Get to the point, Captain!" I barked.
"Easy, sir," Bransten said, turning pale. I could see that the Captain wasn't used to entertaining Majors. "The enlisted men. You know how they are. They'll ask a native to do something and they'll call him Joe. 'Hey, Joe, give me a hand with this.' Or 'Listen, Joe, how'd you like to earn some cigarettes?' Do you follow?"
"I follow, all right," I said bitterly.