"Sir, it doesn't seem to me that there's any question of what action to take. It's impossible to hand Leonards over to them for trial. It's—un-Earthlike!"
Devall frowned. "Would you elaborate, Major?"
"Simple enough. We're the race who developed the space-drive—therefore, we're the galaxy's most advanced race. I think that goes without saying."
"It does not," Devall commented. "But go ahead."
Scowling, Dudley said, "Regardless of your opinion, sir—the aliens we've encountered so far have all regarded us as their obvious superiors. I don't think that can be denied—and I think it can only be attributed to the fact that we are their superiors. Well, if we give up Leonards for trial, it cheapens our position. It makes us look weak, spineless. We—"
"You're suggesting, then," Devall broke in, "that we hold the position of overlords in the galaxy—and by yielding to our serfs, we may lose all control over them. Is this your belief, Major?" Devall glared at him.
Dudley met the colonel's angry gaze calmly. "Basically, yes. Dammit, sir, I've tried to make you see this ever since the Hegath expedition. We're not out here in the stars to collect butterflies and squirrels! We—"
"Out of order," Devall snapped coldly. "This is a cultural mission as well as a military, Major—and so long as I'm in command it remains primarily cultural." He felt on the verge of losing his temper. He glanced away from Dudley and said, "Major Grey, could I hear from you?"
Grey was the ship's astrogator; on land his functions were to supervise stockade-construction and mapmaking. He was a wiry, unsmiling little man with razor-like cheekbones and ruddy skin. "I feel we have to be cautious, sir. Handing Leonards over would result in a tremendous loss of Terran prestige."
"Loss?" Dudley burst in. "It would cripple us! We'd never be able to hold our heads up honestly in the galaxy again if—"