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Chapter 3
The small gray men could really eat.
Jo
Mr. Tsung had insisted Jo
Some very subdued but kind of squeaky music was coming from someplace. It and the click of dishes that Chief Chong-won kept hauling in and the jaws of the small gray men were the only sounds.
Jo
The di
Jo
He himself had not eaten very much. Mr. Tsung had had it relayed to him disparagingly that most of these dishes were southern Chinese cookery and that true cookery had evolved in the north during the Ch'ing Dynasty when his family took care of things. The Peking duck and Mongolian beef should get his main attention. Jo
Not as good, of course, as his Aunt Ellen's venison stew, but quite edible. The nurse had sent in word he was not to have any rice wine because of the sulfa but that was fine– Jo
These small gray men were eating the entire banquet that had been pla
Jo
Their skin was gray and kind of rough. Their eyes were a dull gray-blue, maybe like the sea, and had heavy lids. Their heads were round and hairless. Their noses took a sharp upturn just at the tip. The ears were a bit odd– reminded one more of gills than ears. They had four fingers and a thumb on each hand, though the nails were very pointed. They really looked quite like men. The main difference was their teeth: they had two rows of teeth, the second set just behind the first.
Watching them eat so voraciously and hugely, Jo
It finally came down to tea. It wasn't that the small gray men couldn't eat any more. It was that Chief Chong-won had run out of food! The tea was served, and the first small gray man asked with just a trace of worry whether this was "yarb tea.” He was reassured that it was just plain green tea, a fact that seemed to bring relief.
They sat back and smiled at Jo
Under their gaze, Jo
“You know,” said the original small gray man, “about these hostile forces– your trouble here was really your defenses. Cheap trash. But that's the Psychlos for you. They never put their money in good defenses. Perso
He looked at Jo
Less than five thousand credits. Cheap trash! They won't even shoot up to two hundred thousand feet. Bargain-basement, rummage-sale armaments. They probably bought them from some war surplus, used. And some executive put the new price on the books and pocketed the difference.”
“What should a proper antiaircraft gun cost?” said Jo
The newest small gray man thought a moment. Then he brought a small gray book out of his vest pocket and opened it. The page seemed to get bigger and he sca
The original small gray man agreed. “Yes, that was the main trouble. The Psychlos were both improvident and credit-pinching at the same time. I don't think they even kept up this planet's defenses.”
Jo
He had started something!
Both small gray men put their heads together. The original one started pulling all sorts of little things out of his pocket, looking into them and finding things. The newer arrival had a large ring on his left finger and at first Jo
They were very intense and their voices murmured and blended together. “...thirty space probes...maintained carrier wave probe warning beams...fifteen space drones, automatic firing at all nonsignal identified craft...cost of equipping terrestrial craft with identification beacons...2,000 atmosphere beacons...256 Mark 50 combat fighters...400 fly-away, antiperso