But when violence steps over the
threshold, passing the blazon of the star and rocket, punishment is
swift and terrible. The threat should have been enough.
Instead a howl of abuse went up from the crowd.
"_Terranan!_"
"Son of the Ape!"
The Spaceforce guards were shoulder to shoulder behind me now. The
snub-nosed kid, looking slightly pale, called out. "Get inside the
gates, Cargill! If I have to shoot--"
The older man motioned him to silence. "Wait. Cargill," he called.
I nodded to show that I heard.
"You talk their lingo. Tell them to haul off! Damned if I want to
shoot!"
I stepped down and walked into the open square, across the crumbled
white stones, toward the ragged mob. Even with two armed Spaceforce men
at my back, it made my skin crawl, but I flung up my empty hand in token
of peace:
"Take your mob out of the square," I shouted in the jargon of the
Kharsa. "This territory is held in compact of peace! Settle your
quarrels elsewhere!"
There was a little stirring in the crowd.
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