"Now, now. Don't put it that way, Reverend. The natives can always take refuge in the swamps, you know."
"Yes. I suppose it must be so. Back to Little Texas for the Terrans and back to the swamps for the Narakans. Back to living naked in the mud, back to fishing for our food and back to thinking only of the next meal."
"It really isn't that bad," Chapelle said. "As soon as the situation adjusts itself, the Terran forces will be coming back. Then you can come out of your hiding places and resume your regular life again."
"Yes. And in the meantime our only problem will be to stay out of the way of the Rumi."
"I don't believe that they will go out of their way to harm you. It's the Terrans they want to drive out."
Suddenly the Reverend Goodman was shaking his fist in the Major's face, forgetting in his excitement both his manners and his correct English. "Not hurt! Not hurt, Mr. General? No, they not hurt, they just eat! They favorite food is Naraka steak."
"Now, now, calm yourself," Norton put a hand on Goodman's shoulder. "There's plenty of room in the Sun Maid for you and the rest of your people will be safe enough in the swamps."
"What about my children?" demanded Joan Allen.
"Children, Miss Allen? I don't know.... Oh, yes, you mean the poly ... the children. Why, I assume they will go with their parents."
Joan placed a small fist firmly on each of her slim hips. "Major, all the children in the mission school are orphans. They have no parents. None of them have ever lived in the swamps."