"But the astronomers sighted them five thousand miles away," Tarquin interrupted impatiently. "These men have instruments beyond our knowledge."
"Probably stolen," Garok spoke for the first time. His manner was swaggering, contemptuous. "For all we know they're adventurers from another planet. And if not, why must we meet to be told fairy tales. What of a dark cloud? Going to destroy Spor! Bah. A story to frighten children with. Is this what you brought us here to discuss?" This to Tarquin.
The governor of Osmand flushed. I saw Jim's fists clench, but he remained silent. "We're not here to give opinions, when we don't know what we're talking about," he snapped. "All our astronomers agree the dark nebula is sweeping in like a tidal wave. These men journeyed into our solar system to warn us. I believe them. The question is, do the people of Spor want to believe, and act. That is the question. I propose a referendum, the subject explained over our radio nets, to be held one week from today."
"That date may be too late," Jim warned. "I suggest—"
"Bah," Garok cut in. "You want a panic, so that you can loot us."
That was when Jim sprang to his feet and struck Garok. The leader of Plevia went down. But he was up and charging like a mad bull a moment later.
Tarquin cried out and guards rushed in, separating the men. And now the governor of Osmand frowned at Jim. "You struck first," he said gravely. "You struck a guest of mine."
"I'm sorry," Jim told him. "But it was in desperation, because I realize the danger to you. Governor, we must act more quickly. We must."
Tarquin nodded. "So be it. As senior governor of the continental cities, I set aside the third day from now, and each governor shall join our radio net, so that the people may hear, and vote as they choose."
"You fools," Garok snarled. His right eye was discolored and he glared at Jim. "I demand this man, to be punished for striking Garok."