"How foolish," she whispered. "How pitiful."
"Go on with your guessing, Dr. Millar," said Speidel.
She glanced at the general, again looked at her hands. "There's the military's idea—that they want Earth for a strategic base in some kind of space war."
"It could be," said Speidel.
"They could be looking for more living space for their own kind," she said.
"In which case, what happens to the native population?" asked Langsmith.
"They would either be exterminated or enslaved, I'm afraid. But the Galactics could be commercial traders of some sort, interested in our art forms, our animals for their zoos, our archeology, our spices, our...." She broke off, shrugged. "How do we know what they may be doing on the side ... secretly?"
"Exactly!" said Speidel. He glanced sidelong at Langsmith. "She talks pretty level-headed, Smitty."
"But I don't believe any of these things," she said.
"What is it you believe?" asked Speidel.