"I know what I said. My friend and I created the Indians. Of course. Why? Can't you create anything you want? Just anything?"
"All right, sister," Glaudot said a little angrily. He did not like being made fun of, for he lacked the capacity to laugh at himself. "Just how much of a fool do you think I am?"
"Why, I don't know," Robin replied. "How much of a fool are you?"
Glaudot glared at her. Purcell was going to be one mad captain when he was told of Chandler's death, but men had died on expeditions before and it really wasn't Glaudot's fault. At any rate he had established contact with somebody of obvious importance among the natives, and Purcell would appreciate that.
"Never mind," Glaudot said.
"Tell me about being a spaceman. Do you really fly among the stars?"
"Well, yes," Glaudot said, "although it isn't really flying."
"And do you create new stars as you go along?"
There she went again with her talk of creation, as if creating things out of nothing was the commonest occurrence in the world. Glaudot stood up. "All right, sister. Show me."