"Most of them are protests, sir. Official resignations—"
"The resignees have been replaced, according to plan?"
"Naturally, Mr. Everson."
"And they are proceeding to carry out the surrender, as ordered?"
"Well, not quite. A few said they couldn't stomach it, Mr. Everson. They resigned too."
"See that they are replaced with names selected from List C. The surrender must go through."
"Yes, Mr. Everson."
His secretary—herself a replacement of the man who had been with him for ten years—seemed to wait for him to go on, but he only nodded curtly and switched off. There were other people to see and talk to, but suddenly he felt it impossible to face them, to stare into their eyes. He let the chair carry him silently, and once in his office, he turned on the door lock to insure privacy. Then he stared out through the transparent wall at the spectacle the heavens offered.
Off the right, not far above the horizon, hung the Hop planet-fortress, from which he had just come. A bit smaller than the moon in apparent diameter, it was actually larger than Jupiter, and had several times that planet's mass.
From an anti-grav chamber, he had seen only one tiny corner of its vast surface, but that single vision had been enough to convince him that he had been correct. The Hops, in their countless numbers, were unconquerable, and the human race, despite all its weapons, had no choice but to surrender unconditionally.