"This is no place for psych tricks." He dropped a weary hand on Crawford Bell's shoulder. "Keep working, but psych tricks won't budge those boys. They're disciplined and they're in a good position."
"You aren't giving up?"
He turned to face the Belderkans. "So you won't be moved?" he shouted. "Well, I'm not moving either. I'm staying here until I rot. You'd better have full stomachs and big bladders if you want to keep me out of that airport."
"A fine speech," the helicopter answered, "but we don't care if you stay or not, aggressor. Only the five doctors count. You're of no importance."
Doctor Umbana raised his fist. "I won't be forced."
"Doctor Umbana," the helicopter said, "no one is forcing you to stay. How can one force a creative mind to work? We only want you to consider what you are doing. We only want you to see how much we are willing to suffer."
The jets of the airliner whined. MacFarland glanced at his watch. Five minutes.
"You've done a good job," Doctor Warren said, "and I'm certain you'll be commended by your superiors, but you've failed. I suggest we go home and sleep." His two sons were sleeping on his shoulders. They had been drugged, at their father's request, so they wouldn't see the attack on the crowd.
"Are you going to submit to this bullying?" Doctor Umbana demanded.
"I never was very interested in this project," Doctor Forbes said. "I'm only here because the rest of you want to go. And I've been listening to that helicopter. Some of that's true, you know. They must want us an awful lot to do all this."