He shrilled, "They can't do this to me. We're being robbed!"
I started for him, my fingers stretched out like claws. Here was one Mercurian Bouncer who was going to have his neck wrung, like the fowl he resembled.
Something in his attitude stopped me. I came up beside him and growled, "What now, you makron?"
He pointed at the news sheet which had recorded the item.
Forty-three thousand Solar System scientists working on cure for Venusian Elephantiasis.
He shrilled despairingly, "They'll have you cured in days."
I snorted, "Especially since I haven't got it in the first place. Listen, what gave you the idea I wanted to get out of this fight, anyway? I'm not afraid—"
He started hopping at that. "You're not afraid! You're too stupid, too conceited to be afraid. I'm afraid, understand? I'm your manager; I know how good a gladiator you are, and I'm afraid. I'm afraid first that you'll get killed and I'll lose the best thing I've ever had, but even more than that I'm afraid that this Solar System isn't going to be fit to live in after you lose this fight and the Centaurians take over."
I growled truculently, "I can whip anybody in the Solar System and I can whip—"