The helpful hand of God... can be very helpful indeed. But of course, it's long been known that God helps those who wisely help themselves...
"And why do you carry guns?" he asked.
"Because all along our frontier lines are rhino-stags, cliff bears, thunder hawks, and a lot of other overgrown carnivora that don't like us--that's why."
"I see." He took the pistol from his belt and held it out to her. "Go back to your mountains, where you belong, before you do something to get yourself executed."
* * * * *
Y'Nor, waiting impatiently in the ship, was grimly pleased by the news of Brenn's change of attitude.
"Exactly as I predicted, as you no doubt recall. How long until they can have a thousand units of fuel produced?"
"Larue estimated fourteen days at best."
Y'Nor tapped his thick fingers on his desk, scowling thoughtfully. "As little as seven extra days might force Vogar to accept the Alkorian peace terms because of lack of fuel--the natives can work twice as hard as they expected to. Tell old Brenn they will be given exactly seven days from sunrise tomorrow.
"And summon Dalon and Graver
The Saints escaped the oppression of the militaristic regime on Vogar and had lived sixty years on their own planet when a Vogar ship landed on the planet and placed the world under arrest. But the Saints only seem to be helpless.
The main characters were all fairly well drawn. A satisfying story, if a bit predictable.
Good story-and yes, somewhat predictable, but a fun read. Using the golden rule creatively on members of a military spaceship from a harsh civilization bent on conquest that landed on your peaceful planet might just work. Stress "creatively".
Not bad for a light-hearted, tongue-in-cheek occupation tale. Predictable but enjoyable.