"The use of Terra's secret weapon is critical. It must be employed at exactly the opportune moment, and not one minute before and not one minute after. There must be, for psychological reasons you all know, a certain amount of normal, mine-run fighting before we employ our secret. But I do not want them to be defeated by our might and our weapons. That would be disastrous, for they would return in a few years, and they would return and return, until finally they succeeded in conquering us. We must fight this as I have planned, and when the time is exactly ripe, we shall employ our secret weapon and from that time on, there will be no more carnage, and the Loard-vogh will be conquered."
"When you're dealing with the Loard-vogh, there's no better way to skin a cat than to grab the skin at the neck and pull," scowled Downing. "Choking them to death with cream will not work. I spent three weeks there, remember, and I tell you, Billy, you can not temporize with them!"
Kennebec shook his head at Billy, "I wonder if your practice of getting what you want without fighting for it mightn't be carried too far."
"We are a million million in population," said Billy. "That's counting the Solar Combine plus the colonial outposts. This fight we're facing can not be won in another way. They outnumber us a million to one—think of that! To win, every Solarian must kill one million Loard-vogh! And that," he concluded bitterly, "makes us all come out even!"
"There isn't a man in this sector that wouldn't prefer to die protecting his own than to knuckle under Loard-vogh rule."
"I know—"
"Billy, I can not permit this order to continue," said Kennebec. "We must not permit them to take Terra!"
"Then you're overriding my order?"
"I am—and I pray that the procrastination isn't fatal."
Downing frowned. "Look, Billy, remember this: The Loard-vogh fear us as we are! Otherwise they would not be mobilizing against us. Despite the million-to-one ratio, they fear us and our heredity. We can and will win!"