"How's that?" asked Wilson.
"Your future is up to you."
"Seems to me you've been calling all the tricks."
Viggon Sarri nodded. "We hold every trump but one," he said. "We could conquer you by force, or we could annex you as a subject race. We could infiltrate you by various economic means. Or we could possibly reduce you by attrition to a chaotic condition. But we probably could never muster enough numerical strength to subdue you completely and make it last."
"Huh?"
Viggon Sarri nodded. "Regin Naylo, here, proposed that we attack and conquer by force, not being experienced enough to realize that such a course breeds everlasting resentment and eternal revolt. You'd fight to the last, and those of you who were not exterminated would hide and plot revolt until one day you'd rise to displace our rule. Faren Twill, over there, suggested a form of benevolent protectorate which would only breed contempt. You'd quietly learn everything you could learn from us, then coldly turn on us and carry battle to us."
"Probably."
Viggon Sarri nodded. "On the other hand, progress across the Galaxy would be halted because we'd both be so busy fighting one another that there would be little effort left over for the vast and endless program of expanding across the countless stars."
"Well?" Wilson shrugged. "It seems to me you're still calling the cards."
"We've called our last card, Commodore Wilson. From here on, as I said, what happens in the future is up to you, and yours. Resent us, and progress will stop. Join us as equals, and we can work together as we spread from star to star—and I daresay there are enough stellar systems to keep us from stepping on one another's toes." Viggon Sarri smiled at his two lieutenants. "We have much to learn from one another, Wilson. We can teach you patience and logic, and from you we can learn tenacity and determination."