"Don't be no dumber than you got to, Cap'n," Chip said. "Sweaties die easy; that's the secret."
"Maybe you got a point," the captain said, looking at Retief. "All they got's a three-man scout. It could work."
He went out, came back with two crewmen. They hauled the dead alien gingerly into the hall.
"Maybe I can run a bluff on the Soetti," the captain said, looking back from the door. "But I'll be back to see you later."
"You don't scare us, Cap'n," Chip said. "Him and Mr. Tony and all his goons. You hit 'em where they live, that time. They're pals o' these Sweaties. Runnin' some kind o' crooked racket."
"You'd better take the captain's advice, Chip. There's no point in your getting involved in my problems."
"They'd of killed you before now, Mister, if they had any guts. That's where we got it over these monkeys. They got no guts."
"They act scared, Chip. Scared men are killers."
"They don't scare me none." Chip picked up the tray. "I'll scout around a little and see what's goin' on. If the Sweaties figure to do anything about that Skaw feller they'll have to move fast; they won't try nothin' close to port."
"Don't worry, Chip. I have reason to be pretty sure they won't do anything to attract a lot of attention in this sector just now."