"Sure," Fannia said. "But let's talk about it--"
"I myself will fight you," the chief said, holding up a dagger. "I will die for my people, as a warrior must!"
"Hold it!" Fannia shouted. "Grant us a truce. We are allowed to fight only by sunlight. It is a tribal taboo."
The chief thought for a moment, then said, "Very well. Until tomorrow."
The beaten Earthmen walked slowly back to their ship amid the jeers of the victorious populace.
* * * * *
Next morning, Fannia still didn't have a plan. He knew that he had to have fuel; he wasn't planning on spending the rest of his life on Cascella, or waiting until the Galactic Survey sent another ship, in fifty years or so. On the other hand, he hesitated at the idea of being responsible for the death of anywhere up to three billion people. It wouldn't be a very good record to