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Louise had pursued her own thoughts. "Bill Morris looked awful when I left. You ought to tell him he can stop worrying."
"Oh, no. I want him scared. Morris has got to talk the rest of the world into building a launching laser, instead of just throwing bombs at the Monk ship. And we need the launching laser."
"Mmm! That's good coffee. Why do we need a launching laser?"
"To get to the stars."
"That's Morris's bag. You're a bartender, remember? The fourth profession."
I shook my head. "You and Morris. You don't see how big the Monk marketplace is, or how thin the Monks are scattered. How many novas have you seen in your lifetime?"
"Damn few," I said. "There are damn few trading ships in a godawful lot of sky. There arc things out there besides Monks. Things the Monks are afraid of, and probably others they don't know about.
"Things so dangerous that the only protection is to be somewhere else, circling some other star, when it happens here! The Monk drive is our lifeline and our immortality. It would be cheap at any price—"
"Your eyes are glowing," she breathed. She looked half hypnotized, and utterly convinced. And I knew that for the rest of my life, I would have to keep a tight rein on my tendency to preach.