John Massie Davis

“ Now, it was not a fighter, and it was not Jimmy, and it was not Sitra. It was a denizen of the planet and it looked like no human.
Shortly thereafter the all-wave radio in the deadly, powerful silvery needle standing serenely on the strange world blared again.
"... in accordance with Interstellar Code we have asked that we not be invaded and are warning you that according to Article 19, Section 3, fleets which invade a peaceful people become subject to unprincipled attack, even to the use of psychological weapons." ”

“ Land masses stable, water in the air, semi-condensed. Good place for colonizing, and this pleased me. We were out to establish and leave the Homonorms for a generation, and Brain One had figured all the details out while I was sitting in freeze like a hamburger. So far, so good.
One thing annoyed, or puzzled me. I kept throwing data from TV and Radar into Feed-back and asking about population, life forms, land denizens. All Brain One came up with was Insufficient Data. All right. It would be just another routine landing on another distant planet. ”

“ Behind him Jamison watched the two figures running away. His face froze into granite. Rage and resentment surged within him. Across the plain he saw the man who had stolen, yes, stolen, the championship from him. ”

“ Murph flipped on the radio again, grinning in contempt. The voice still vibrated through the ether.
"... that you blast off immediately or assume responsibility for the consequences. Interstellar Code states that invaded peoples are justified in using any tactics...." It clicked off. Murph had been annoyed by the resemblance to Sitra's voice: perhaps he was homesick. Jamison's lips vanished into a white line and Forsyth looked around, rabbit-eyed with astonishment, expecting to see his son emerge from the piles of supplies and equipment. ”

“ Automatic lift pulled him out and beneath him was the male Homonorm and the two female Homonorms. They came out, too, as the lifts worked, and pretty soon the cabin looked like a morgue—or a cannibal's shop, if you prefer. Anyway, they were defrosting, so I left 'em to make a check on Brain One and see what brilliant, if mechanical conclusion it had reached. Should be at least an hour before Combatman thawed—even with the needles pumping.
Brain One was feeding out tape now, slow as a snail considering its cycling rate, so I figured we were a long way from home. ”

“ Completely helpless, to be truthful.
"Could it be," he appeared to be bored, "that you are tired of having two arms?" He twisted slightly and I got the idea so I shut up, for the second time. After a few seconds he sat down in my chair and had another drink. When I could talk without sputtering I worked up my mildest voice. ”

“ But I did as I was told and ran Brain One through three clearing cycles, just to make sure. There was no telling what this lummox may have done in my absence. Now I'd have to check everything and feed in the information all over again.
Combatman leaned back in the chair like he expected dental work, and yawned luxuriously. He watched as the screen blurred and focused, blurred and focused. It was sweeping at two miles and the ship was slowing. We dropped tail down and Grav changed faster than the interior hull moved. Finally we settled, and coasted above this planet. ”