"That is not true! We committed no crime, harmed no living thing...."
The hard, cold words of Y'Nor cut off his protest:
"This world is now a Vogarian possession. Every man, woman, and child upon it is a prisoner of the Vogarian State. There will be no resistance. This cruiser's disintegrators can destroy a town within seconds, your race within hours. Do you understand what I mean?"
The visible portion of old Brenn's face turned pale. He spoke at last in the bitter tones of frightened, stubborn determination:
"I offered you our friendship; I hoped you would accept, for we are a peaceful race. I should have known that you came only to persecute and enslave us. But the hand of God will reach down to help us and—"
Y'Nor laughed, a raucous sound like the harsh caw of the Vogarian vulture, and held up a hairy fist.
"This, old man, is the hand for you to center your prayers around. I want full-scale fuel production commenced within twenty-four hours. If this is done, and if you continue to unquestioningly obey all my commands, I will for that long defer your punishment as an escaped criminal. If this is not done, I will destroy a town exactly twenty-five hours from now—and as many more as may be necessary. And you will be publicly executed as a condemned criminal and an enemy of the Vogarian State."
Y'Nor turned to Dalon. "Take him away."
Scared sheep," Y'Nor said when Brenn was gone. "Tomorrow he'll say that he prayed and his god told him what to do—which will be to save his neck by doing as I command."