"I might wear out—"
"No. When you fail, Lindoo, it will be because you have confronted yourself with your superior."
"And then?"
"Then the Lord of All will have a new Head of Strategy."
Lindoo laughed. "At that time I shall expect you to need one. Well, I must start preparation. I have much to do."
"You have," nodded Vorgan.
Throughout the lands and planets of the Loard-vogh there started a slow and gradual crawl. The forces of the Loard-vogh began to move slowly, like the rivers of the ocean. They could be felt; slowly and inexorably, though they could not be seen. Throughout a thousand suns the soldiery left their billets in twos and threes. They bade good-by to their temporary homes, kissed their slave-lovers and serf-women farewell and faced new fields. They collected along the frontier, planets full of brawling Loard-vogh that swarmed like the all-consuming locusts. They fought among themselves. They stole and they looted, and they took souvenirs of value. Native women—some of them the intellectual superiors of the Loard-vogh—were not safe on the streets, and the fighting was not without its overwhelming toll of innocent bystanders.
Somehow it was very few of the Loard-vogh that got hurt.
And the planets began to pile deep with equipment. It was a real springboard, this planet frontier. Like a storm cloud collecting electrons, they would pile up to the bursting point and then with a crackle and a flash of lightning, they would hurl themselves across space to blast the focal point.
Terra!