Gordon thought it over a while, rubbing the stubble on his cheeks. "Might work," he mused aloud. "What about setting up an automatic-sequence gimmick of some kind, controlled from here while we watch their reaction with a telescope? We could turn the pages, see? ... or should we just tack up a string of pictures along the path?"
Rogers sat forward. "Machine might be better, if we can rig it up soon enough. Separate pictures might get blown away or something, for all we know, or some kind of critter might destroy 'em."
Stuart stopped pacing and squinted at the ceiling. "Yes, I like the machine. We could include a little pickup unit so I could record and analyze their comments, knowing just what they were looking at. That would really help a lot." He snapped his fingers, struck with inspiration. "What about ending the little show with a real surprise? A gift that would really demonstrate our good intentions?"
What did he consider a suitable gift?
"A blast-rifle!" he answered boldly.
"What the devil!" exclaimed Gordon. The others indicated various degrees of consternation. They stared at Stuart as if he had suggested turning pirate. But he showed a firmness that was new to them—and to himself.
"Nothing else will do the trick as simply and surely," he insisted. "In the first place, their most desperate need, as they see it right now, is probably an efficient but simple weapon of some sort, capable of being enlarged into a heavy defensive piece of great range. I understand our blast-rifle is such a weapon. I believe they live in absolute terror of another attack, and they apparently have little or no technology left with which to prepare for such an attack. Hence their going underground."
He paused to let the point sink in. "And in the second place, it seems reasonable to believe they would understand our good intentions from such a gift. Surely they will see that no one planning an aggressive move is going to arm his intended victims first! Their behavior certainly indicates that they are accustomed to direct action, rather than to Machiavellian subtleties of plot and counter-plot."
Nestor stuck out a skeptical lower lip. "How will they know we're making a gesture that means anything? I mean, they still might figure the gun is just a little toy in our league, and that we're not running any risk at all by giving it to them."