Galt grunted, examining the map. Donal was watching Lludrow with quiet curiosity. The man’s accent betrayed him for a New Earthman, but here he was high up on the Staff of Freiland’s fighting forces. Of course, the two Sirian worlds were natural allies, being on the same side as Old Earth against the Mars-Venus-Newton-Cassida group; but simply because they were so close, there was a natural rivalry in some things, and a career officer from one of them usually did best on his home world.

“Don’t like it,” said Galt, finally. “It’s a fool stunt from what I can see. The men they land will have to wear respirators; and what the devil do they expect to do with their beachhead when they establish it? Oriente’s too close to the sun for terra-forming, or we would have done it from here long ago.”

“It’s possible,” said Lludrow, calmly, “they could intend to mount an offensive from there against our two planets here.”

“No, no,” Galt’s voice was harsh and almost irritable. His heavy face loomed above the map. “That’s as wild a notion as terraforming Oriente. They couldn’t keep a base there supplied, let alone using it to attack two large planets with fully established population and industry. Besides, you don’t conquer civilized worlds. That’s a maxim.”

“Maxims can become worn out, though,” put in Donal.

“What?” demanded Galt, looking up. “Oh—Donal. Don’t interrupt us now. From the looks of it,” he went on to Lludrow, “it strikes me as nothing so much as a live exercise—you know what I mean.”

Lludrow nodded—as did Donal unconsciously. Live exercises were something that no planetary Chief of Staff admitted to, but every military man recognized. They were actual small battles provoked with a handy enemy either for the purpose of putting a final edge on troops in training, or to keep that edge on troops that had been too long on a standby basis. Galt, almost alone among the Planetary Commanders of his time, was firmly set against this action, not only in theory, but in practice. He believed it more honest to hire his troops out, as in the recent situation on Harmony, when they showed signs of going stale. Donal privately agreed with him; although there was always the danger that when you hired troops out, they lost the sense of belonging to you, in particular, and were sometimes spoiled through mismanagement.

“What do you think?” Galt was asking his Patrol chief.

“I don’t know, sir,” Lludrow answered. “It seems the only sensible interpretation.”

“The thing,” interrupted Donal, again, “would be to go over some of the nonsensible interpretations as well, to see if one of them doesn’t constitute a possible danger. And from that—”

“Donal,” broke in Galt, dryly, “you are my aide, not my Battle Op.”