Reif said coldly, "We need immediate reforms. They've got to be pacified. An immediate announcement of more consumer goods, fewer State taxes, above all a relaxation of Security Police pressures. Given immediate promise of these, we might maintain ourselves."
Joe Chessman's sullen face was twitching at the right corner of his mouth. Young Taller made no attempt to disguise his contempt at the other's weakness in time of stress.
Chessman's eyes went around the half circle of them. "This is the only alternative? It'll slow up our heavy industry program. We might not catch up with Genoa as quickly as planned."
Watson gestured with a hand in quick irritation. "Look here, Chessman, don't we get through to you? Whether or not we build up a steel capacity as large as Amschel Mayer's isn't important now. Everything's at stake."
"Don't talk to me that way, Barry," Chessman growled truculently. "I'll make the decisions. I'll do the thinking." He said to Reif, "How much of the Tulan army is loyal?"
The aging Tulan looked at Watson before turning back to Joe Chessman. "All of the Tulan army is loyal—to me."
"Good!" Chessman pushed some of the dispatches on his desk aside, letting them flutter to the floor. He bared a field map. "If we crush half a dozen of the local communes ... crush them hard! Then the others ..."
Watson said very slowly and so low as hardly to be heard, "You didn't bother to listen, Chessman. We told you, all that's needed is a spark."
Joe Chessman sat back in his chair, looked at them all again, one by one. Re-evaluating. For a moment the facial tic stopped and his eyes held the old alertness.
"I see," he said. "And you all recommend capitulation to their demands?"