"So you didn't know?" she cried angrily.
Farradyne waved a hand sidewise and it shut her up. "Stop making like a fishwife and think! You have a good mind—for God's sake, use it!"
She looked at him calculatingly. "Just what do you expect me to assume?"
"Let's assume that I'm what I said I was," he said. "And let's assume we're fighting an undeclared war against a powerful enemy. An enemy that is running down the moral fiber of our race so they can walk in and take over without an open battle. Does that make sense?"
Norma considered it a moment. "Of course. Nobody wins a shooting-war. But which side are you on, Farradyne?"
He grunted. "Norma, just who was your brother?"
"Frank was one of Howard's best men," she said simply.
"More of the pattern clearing up," he sighed. "They killed your brother, getting a lot of innocent bystanders in the process. They tried to kill me the same way, although I didn't have anything more than a crude idea to go on."
Norma looked at him soberly. "I hate to admit it, but I've heard this three-tongued language of yours. So that makes you right on one count anyway."
"We're not fighting only a well-integrated mob," he said. "We're fighting a complete stellar culture."