"—Make for the better life—"
"—Invite them to join us for a greater System—"
"—The same way the British and the Dutch and the French and the Russians did in ancient times here on Terra."
Malloy regarded his big feet with hostility; as though they and not Rex Tate had been speaking. "Do you want this assignment, or don't you?"
"Sure I want it." Rex grinned. What other department chief would let a subordinate sound off? None except Malloy. That was one of the things that made up for the low pay.
"All right—then shut your trap and listen. As I said, the Martians backed off into those hills and caves and hung out a Private sign that we respected for three hundred years. Then, about six months ago, a Martologist named Spencer got tired of testing flora and fauna in the safe areas and wangled a permit to penetrate the taboo areas around the pole."
Rex Tate straightened—honestly amazed. "Alone?"
"No. In the company of his twenty-year-old daughter."
"Good God! Why we wouldn't even send a nuclear battalion in there! Who issued such an insane permit?"