"That depends," said Savage carefully. He drank slowly, watching Loong over the edge of the glass.
"On what I think?" smiled Loong. "I know what I think. I want your opinion."
Savage decided to take a chance. "I believe a friendly, diplomatic approach would be a far better method," he said. "For example, in the case of Terra...."
"Exactly," Loong interrupted heatedly. "Nothing permanent is gained by force. A conquered people will not remain so forever."
Savage's glass suddenly slipped from his hand. As though from a great distance he watched the liquid splash on the rug and then the room seemed to be receding in the distance. He tried to rise, urgently aware of his dangers, but instead he felt himself collapse. Then all sensation ceased.
He had no idea how much later it was when he awakened in his own bedroom. Other than a slight headache he felt no effects of the drug. He saw that the Trygonian day had come again, but that meant nothing; he could have been unconscious for several days. Then he rolled over and found that Loong was sitting beside the bed.
"I'm sorry I had to do that," Loong said calmly, "but I had to be sure."
"Sure of what?" Savage said, checking an impulse to say more violent things.
"Your sympathies."
"And?"