He kicked at an empty tala skin that Joe had tossed out the door earlier. "Things are out of hand, and I'm ashamed I haven't come to you sooner, Benson."
Phil was so outraged he couldn't speak. I said, "Thanks, Donnegan. You did the right thing."
He left us, and while Benson was struggling to control his anger I said, "It's a wonder they haven't burned the place down. The forest must be damp enough to sustain fire, or they certainly would have set one."
"It might have been better," Benson said, "if they had burned the whole damned planet up! And you thought I was exaggerating! There you have it, a perfect set-up to make beachcombers out of the whole colony. Plenty of free food, liquor, beautiful native girls and a mild climate."
"And native boys," I added, remembering suddenly that I was harboring one of the "pets" under my own roof.
Benson clenched his fists. "From the first I knew what the answer must come to. I just didn't have the guts to face it."
I nodded. "I suppose we'll have to drive them off."
"Drive them off, nothing! They're nomads, and they'd be back sooner or later. There will always be people in the colony willing to deal with them secretly, and the natives are clever enough to circumvent any discipline I aim against them."
"What else can you do, short of—genocide?"
"Why rule out genocide? Sam, face it! Race extermination is the only permanent and satisfactory solution."