"Oh, that's very fine, decent, sporting and all that," the Manager of Trade said irritatedly. "But I have to worry about feeding this overpopulated system of ours, which would starve if it weren't for intersystem trade—a significant part of which is carried on through the planetoids."
"Can we protect the threatened planetoid?" President Wong asked the Manager of Defense, a short, slim black man with flaming red hair.
The Manager of Defense considered his reply carefully. "Not if they are willing to pay a terrific price to destroy it," he said finally. "After all, it's thirty-three years away. While we can send out a fleet immediately that would get there at the same time as the Ambassadors, and before they could mount an attack, we hardly could send reinforcements and replacements once the battle is joined. But from the best information available, I think that a small force of twenty or twenty-five thousand troops should be able to frighten the Gnii out of doing anything foolish. They aren't very far advanced."
"Thirty-three years," President Wong said frowning. "That means a mixed crew with facilities for children. I am told that things often go wrong on that type of mission."
The Manager of Defense nodded. "They do," he agreed shortly. "However, I have analyzed that problem in detail in my report."
President Wong sighed. "If you gentlemen will leave your reports with me, I will make my decision by tomorrow morning."
Each of the Managers gave him several rolls of tape. Those of the Manager of Trade felt by far the heaviest. President Wong slipped them into the racks in his upper left-hand desk drawer.
"Ask the Gnii to come in," he said to Al.
