Joe Chessman sat back in his chair, looked at them all again, one by one. Re-evaluating. For a moment the facial tic stopped and his eyes held the old alertness.
“I see,” he said. “And you all recommend capitulation to their demands?”
“It’s our only chance,” Hawkins said. “We don’t even know it’ll work. There’s always the chance if we throw them a few crumbs they’ll want the whole loaf. You’ve got to remember that some of them have been living for twenty-five years or more under this pressure. The valve is about to blow.”
“I see,” Chessman grunted. “And what else? I can see in your faces there’s something else.”
The three Earthmen didn’t answer. Their eyes shifted.
He looked to young Taller and then to Reif. “What else?”
“We need a scapegoat,” Reif said without expression.
Joe Chess
