Foundation and Empire. Айзек Азимов
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enviable standard for faithfulness themselves.’
‘An incompetent traitor is no danger. It is rather the capable men who must be watched.’
‘You among them, Brodrig?’ Cleon II laughed and then grimaced with pain. ‘Well, then, you may forget the lecture for the while. What new development is there in the matter of this young conqueror? I hope you haven’t come merely to reminisce.’
‘Another message, sire, has been received from General Riose.’
‘Oh? And to what effect?’
‘He has spied out the land of these barbarians and advocates an expedition in force. His arguments are long and fairly tedious. It is not worth annoying Your Imperial Majesty with it at present, during your indisposition. Particularly since it will be discussed at length during the session of the Council of Lords.’ He glanced sidewise at the Emperor.
Cleon II frowned. ‘The Lords? Is it a question for them, Brodrig? It will mean further demands for a broader interpretation of the Charter. It always comes to that.’
‘It can’t be avoided, sire. It might have been better if your august father could have beaten down the last rebellion without granting the Charter. But since it is here, we must endure it for the while.’
‘You’re right, I suppose. Then the Lords it must be. But why all this solemnity, man? It is, after all, a minor point. Success on a remote border with limited troops is scarcely a state affair.’
Brodrig smiled narrowly. He said coolly, ‘It is an affair of a romantic idiot; but even a romantic idiot can be a deadly weapon when an unromantic rebel uses him as a tool. Sire, the man was popular here and is popular there. He is young. If he annexes a vagrant barbarian planet or two, he will become a conqueror. Now a young conqueror who has proven his ability to rouse the enthusiasm of pilots, miners, tradesmen and suchlike rabble is dangerous at any time. Even if he lacked the desire to do to you as your august father did to the usurper, Ricker, then one of our loyal Lords of the Domain may decide to use him as his weapon.’
Cleon II moved an arm hastily and stiffened with pain. Slowly he relaxed, but his smile was weak, and his voice a whisper. ‘You are a valuable subject, Brodrig. You always suspect far more than is necessary, and I have but to take half your suggested precautions to be utterly safe. We’ll put it up to the Lords. We shall see what they say and take measures accordingly. The young man, I suppose, has made no hostile moves yet.’
‘He reports none. But already he asks for reinforcements.’
‘Reinforcements!’ The Emperor’s eyes narrowed with wonder. ‘What force has he?’
‘Ten ships of the line, sire, with a full complement of auxiliary vessels. Two of the ships are equipped with motors salvaged from the old Grand Fleet, and one has a battery of power artillery from the same source. The other ships are new ones of the last fifty years, but are serviceable, nevertheless.’
‘Ten ships would seem adequate for any reasonable undertaking. Why, with less than ten ships my father won his first victories against the usurper. Who are these barbarians he’s fighting?’
The Privy Secretary raised a pair of supercilious eyebrows. ‘He refers to them as “the Foundation”.’
‘The Foundation? What is it?’
‘There is no record of it, sire. I have searched the archives carefully. The area of the Galaxy indicated falls within the ancient province of Anacreon, which two centuries since gave itself up to brigandage, barbarism, and anarchy. There is no planet known as Foundation in the province, however. There was a vague reference to a group of scientists sent to that province just before its separation from our protection. They were to prepare an Encyclopedia.’ He smiled thinly. ‘I believe they called it the Encyclopedia Foundation.’
‘Well,’ the Emperor considered it sombrely, ‘that seems a tenuous connection to advance.’
‘I’m not advancing it, sire. No word was ever received from that expedition after the growth of anarchy in that region. If their descendants still live and retain their name, then they have reverted to barbarism most certainly.’
‘And so he wants reinforcements.’ The Emperor bent a fierce glance at his secretary. ‘This is most peculiar; to propose to fight savages with ten ships and to ask for more before a blow is struck. And yet I begin to remember this Riose; he was a handsome boy of loyal family. Brodrig, there are complications in this that I don’t penetrate. There may be more importance in it than would seem.’
His fingers played idly with the gleaming sheet that covered his stiffened legs. He said, ‘I need a man out there; one with eyes, brains and loyalty. Brodrig—’
The secretary bent a submissive head, ‘And the ships, sire?’
‘Not yet!’ The Emperor moaned softly as he shifted his position in gentle stages. He pointed a feeble finger, ‘Not till we know more. Convene the Council of Lords for this day week. It will be a good opportunity for the new appropriation as well. I’ll put that through or lives will end.’
He leaned his aching head into the soothing tingle of the force-field pillow. ‘Go now, Brodrig, and send in the doctor. He’s the worst bumbler of the lot.’
From the radiating point of Siwenna, the forces of the Empire reached out cautiously into the black unknown of the Periphery. Giant ships passed the vast distances that separated the vagrant stars at the Galaxy’s rim, and felt their way around the outermost edge of Foundation influence.
Worlds isolated in their new barbarism of two centuries felt the sensation once again of Imperial overlords upon their soil. Allegiance was sworn in the face of the massive artillery covering capital cities.
Garrisons were left; garrisons of men in Imperial uniform with the Spaceship-and-Sun insignia upon their shoulders. The old men took notice and remembered once again the forgotten tales of their grandfathers’ fathers of the times when the universe was big, and rich, and peaceful and that same Spaceship-and-Sun ruled all.
Then the great ships passed on to weave their line of forward bases further around the Foundation. And as each world was knotted into its proper place in the fabric, the report went back to Bel Riose at the General Headquarters he had established on the rocky barrenness of a wandering sunless planet.
Now Riose relaxed and smiled grimly at Ducem Barr. ‘Well, what do you think, patrician?’
‘I? Of what value are my thoughts? I am not a military man.’ He took in with one wearily distasteful glance the crowded disorder of the rock-bound room which had been carved out of the wall of a cavern of artificial air, light, and heat which marked the single bubble of life in the vastness of a bleak world.
‘For the help I could give you,’ he muttered, ‘or would want to give you, you might return me to Siwenna.’
‘Not yet. Not yet.’ The general turned his chair to the corner which held the huge, brilliantly-transparent sphere that mapped the old Imperial prefect of Anacreon and its neighbouring sectors. ‘Later, when this is over, you will go back to your books and to more. I’ll see to it that the estates of your family are restored to you and to your children for the rest of time.’
‘Thank you,’ said Barr, with faint irony, ‘but I lack your faith in the happy outcome of all this.’
Riose laughed harshly, ‘Don’t start your prophetic croakings again. This map speaks louder than all your woeful theories.’ He caressed its curved invisible outline gently. ‘Can you read a map in radial projection? You can? Well, here, see for yourself. The stars in gold represent the Imperial territories. The red stars are those in subjection to the Foundation