"This is a young planet," he continued. "In many ways, it's as near to paradise as any of us will ever see. Man is a young race here—young in development. Yet almost before he has a chance to prove himself, he has found himself in a backwater, stymied as it were by the very paradise qualities which attract us. Life is easy here, too easy. He doesn't have to exert himself. He lives much like his ancestors did, ten thousand years ago.
"There is no future in standing still. Whether he likes it or not, man must develop, must give the future generations a chance for their place in the sun. Despite sentimentality, anything that gives them that chance is good. Therefore, I repeat: eleven men died here yesterday. They did not die in vain!"
"Time for a break, I think," said Reilly, pressing a button. The door opened and the cadet Sergeant-Major stuck his head in.
"Sir?"
"Coffee, Sergeant. That will be suitable, gentlemen?" The boys nodded and the cadet withdrew.
"While we're waiting, are there any more questions?"
One of the boys hesitantly raised his hand.
"Mr. Phillips?"
"Sir, why is so much of the activity by the agents carried out in secrecy? It all seems rather underhanded to me."