Randolph seemed almost entranced. "But how could they have worked out the phonetics?"
Barnes grinned, lifted a shoulder in admiration and envy. "I don't know.... Ask them."
"They couldn't know they were our names," said Randolph.
"No, but they thought they were native names. Thank God, we got the pitch right off and were able to carry the farce."
"Why didn't they just kill us?"
Barnes frowned and struck another match. "That would've been the really smart thing to do, Dolph, but they're not brutes and they're not making war. Their intention is to colonize, and we might as well be insects for all we could mean to them or do to stand up to them."
"But if we have to be dealt with at all, we're in the way—"
Barnes had the pipe going. He shook his head. "We're not in their way; we're underfoot, and only a sick mind makes a point of stepping on ants. Would you kill a talking louse?"
Randolph grinned. "Yes."