So Haviland Tuf went reluctantly to war. On the first day he sat in his war room before his great console, tight-lipped and quiet, turning dials and pressing glowing buttons and phantom holographic keys. Elsewhere on the Ark...
Said Haviland Tuf. Guardian, something very odd is happening on Namor. You ve noticed, she said drily. The laser did not move. Indeed. You are being destroyed by an infestation of creatures that we must, for want of a better term...
Haviland Tuf reacted not at all. Violence, he said, in a voice of mild reproach. Perhaps, before you burn a hole in me and thereby doom yourself and your world, you might give me the opportunity to explain? Go on, she said. I ll listen...