"What kind of vessels? Warships?"
"Certainly. What other kind would the Qornt bother with?"
"I don't suppose," Magnan said casually, "that you'd know the type, tonnage, armament and manning of these vessels? And how many units comprise the fleet? And where they're based at present?"
"They're fully automated twenty-thousand-ton all-purpose dreadnaughts. They mount a variety of weapons. The Qornt are fond of that sort of thing. Each of the Qornt has his own, of course. They're virtually identical, except for the personal touches each individual has given his ship."
"Great heavens, Retief!" Magnan exclaimed in a whisper. "It sounds as though these brutes employ a battle armada as simpler souls might a set of toy sailboats!"
Retief stepped past Magnan and Zubb to study the feasting hall. "I can see that their votes would carry all the necessary weight."
"And now an interview with the Qorn himself," Zubb shrilled. "If you'll kindly step along, gentlemen...."
"That won't be necessary," Magnan said hastily, "I've decided to refer the matter to committee."
"After having come so far," Zubb said, "it would be a pity to miss having a cosy chat."
There was a pause.