Classic Audiobook Collection - Ministry of Disturbance by H. Beam Piper ~ Full Audiobook [scifi]

Episode Date: January 18, 2023

Ministry of Disturbance by H. Beam Piper audiobook. Genre: scifi Science Fiction at it humorous best written in the golden age of all the greats and published in Astounding Science Fiction December 1958. Piper can't be matched for sardonic comment on human nature. The Empire is stagnant; thousands of planets spread around Earth but nothing new is allowed to happen and disturb the static situation. Our emperor Paul knows this but is powerless to make a dent in the centuries old hide bound bureaucracy of intergalactic politics. But is there a plot to overthrow him? It certainly looks like it. Follow this story closely as it builds to an excellent and exciting climax. Piper's talent and creativity shine through in this story. For ad-free listening try our premium subscription Chapters (Approximate) (00:00:00) Chapter 01 (00:21:58) Chapter 02 (00:42:25) Chapter 03 (01:04:31) Chapter 04 (01:26:39) Chapter 05 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Ministry of Disturbance by H. Beam Piper Part One The symphony was ending, the final triumphant pian soaring up and up and beyond the limit of audibility. For a moment after the last notes had gone away, Paul sat motionless as though some part of him had followed. Then he roused himself and finished his coffee and cigarette, looking out the wide window across the city below. Treetops and towers, roofs and domes, and arching skyways, busy swarms of air-cars, glinting

in the early sunlight. Not many people cared for Jao Coelho's music now, at least of all, for the Eighth Symphony. It was the music of another time, a thousand years ago, when the Empire was blazing into being out of the long night and hammering back. the neo-barbarians from world after world. Today people found it perturbing. He smiled faintly at the vacant chair opposite him and lit another cigarette before putting the breakfast dishes on the serving robot's tray, and, after a while, realized that the robot

was still beside his chair waiting for dismissal. He gave it an instruction to summon the cleaning robots and sent it away. He could as easily have some of the cleaning robots. have summoned them himself, or let the guards who would be in checking the room do it for him, but maybe it made a robot feel trusted and important to relay orders to other robots. Then he smiled, this time in self-durision. A robot couldn't feel important, or anything else. A robot was nothing but steel and plastic and magnetized tape and photo-microposotronic circuits,

whereas a man, his imperial majesty Paul the 22nd, for instance, was nothing but tissues and cells and colloids and electroneutronic circuits. There was a difference. Anybody knew that. The trouble was that he had never met anybody, which included physicists, biologists, psychologists, psychologists, psionys, philosophers and theologians who could define the difference in satisfactorily exact terms. He watched the robot pivot on its treads and glide away, trailing steam from its coffee pot.

It might be silly to treat robots like people, but that wasn't as bad as treating people like robots, an attitude which was becoming entirely too prevalent, if only so many people didn't act like robots. He crossed to the elevator and stood in front of it until a tiny electroencephalograph inside recognized his distinct brave wave pattern. Across the room another door was popping open to the response to the robot's distinctive wave pattern. He stepped inside and flipped a switch.

There were still a few things around that had to be manually operated, and the door closed behind him and the elevator gave him an instant weightlessness as it started to drop forty floors. When it opened, Captain General Dorfay of the household guard was waiting for him with a Captain and ten privates. General Dorfley was human. The captain and his ten soldiers weren't. They wore helmets emblazoned with the golden sun and superimposed black cog-wheel of the

empire, and red kilts and black ankle boots and weapons belts, and the captain had a narrow gold-laced cape over his shoulders, but for the rest their bodies were covered with a stiff mat of black hair, and their faces were slightly like terriers. For all his humanity, Captain General Dorfley's face was more like a bulldogs. They were hillmen from the southern hemisphere of Thor, and as a people they made excellent mercenaries. They were crack shots, brave and crafty fighters, totally uninterested in politics off their own planet, and because they had grown up in a patriarchal clan society, they were fanatically loyal to anybody, whom they accepted as their chieftain.

Paul stepped out and gave them an inclusive nod. Good morning, gentlemen. Good morning, your imperial majesty, General Dorfley said, bowing the couple of inches consistent with military dignity. The Thorne captain saluted by touching his forehead, his heart, which was on the right side, and the butt of his pistol. Paul complimented him on the smart appearance of his detail, and the captain asked how it could be a little.

otherwise, with the example and inspiration of his imperial majesty. Compliment and response could have been a playback from every morning of the ten years of his reign. So could Dorfley's question. Your Majesty will proceed to his study? He wanted to say, no, to Neffelheim with it. Let's get an air car and fly a million miles somewhere. And watch the look of shocked incomprehension on the Captain John. general's face. He couldn't do that, though. Poor old wharf Dorfley might have had a heart

attack. He nodded slowly. If you please, General. Dorfley nodded to the Thorin captain, who nodded to his men. Four of them took two paces forward. The rest unslaying weapons went scurrying up the corridor, some posting themselves along the way and the rest continuing to the main hallway. The captain and two of his men started forward. The captain and two of his men started forward slowly. After they had gone twenty feet, Paul and General Dorfley fell in behind them, and the other two brought up the rear. "'Your Majesty,' Dorfay said in a low voice. "'Let me beg you to be most cautious. I have just discovered that there exists a treasonous plot

against your life.' Paul nodded. Dorfley was more than due to discover another treasonous plot. It had been ten days since the last one. I believe you mentioned it, General. Something about planting loose strontium-90 in the upholstery of the audience throne, wasn't it? And before that, somebody had been trying to smuggle a fusion bomb into the palace in a wine cask.

And before that it was a booby trap in the elevator. And before that, somebody was planning to build a submachine gun into the view-screen and the study, and—oh, no, your majesty! that was, well, the persons involved in that plot became alarmed and fled the planet before I could arrest them. This is something different, Your Majesty. I have learned that unauthorized alterations have been made on one of the cooking robots in your private kitchen, and I am positive that the object is to poison your majesty.

They were turning into the main hallway between the rows of portraits of past emperors. Paul and Roderick, Paul and Roderick, alternating over and over on both walls. He felt a smile growing in his face and banished it. The robot for the meat sauces, wasn't it? he asked. Why, yes, your majesty. I'm sorry, General. I should have warned you. Those alterations were made by roboticists from the Ministry of Security. They were installing an adaptation of a device used in the,

criminalistics lab to ensure more uniform measurements. They'd done that already for Prince Trouvon, the minister, and he'd recommended it to me. That was a shame, spoiling poor Horve Dorfley's murder plot. It had been such a nice little plot, too. He must have had a lot of fun inventing it. But a line had to be drawn somewhere. Let him turn the palace upside down, hunting for bombs, harassed ladies in waiting, whose lovers he suspected of being hired assassins, hound musicians, and to whose instruments he

imagined firearms had been built. The Emperor's private kitchen would have to be off limits. Dorfley, who should have been looking crestfallen but relieved, stop short, shocking breach of court etiquette, and was staring in horror. "'Your Majesty! Prince Trevon did that openly, and with your consent, But, Your Majesty, I am convinced that it is Prince Trevon himself, who is the instigator of every one of these diabolical schemes. In the case of the elevator, I became suspicious of a man named Samal Goner, one of Prince

Trouvan's secret police agents. In the case of the gun in the viewscreen, it was a technician whose sister is a member of a household of Countess Yerzy, Prince Trouvon's mistress. In the case of the fission bomb, the two Thorans and their captain had kept on for some distance before they had discovered that they were no longer being followed and were returning. He put his hand on General Dorfley's shoulder and urged him forward. Have you mentioned this to anybody? Not a word, your majesty.

The court is so full of treachery that I can trust no one, and we must never warn the villain that he is suspected good. Say nothing to anybody. They had reached the door of the study now. I think I'll be here until noon. If I leave earlier, I'll flash you a signal. He entered the big oval room, lighted from overhead by the great star map in the ceiling, and crossed to his desk, with the view-screens and reading screens and communication screens

around it. And as he sat down, he cursed angrily, first at Harb Dorfley, and then, after a moment's reflection, at his room. himself. He was the one to blame. He'd known Dorfley's paranoid condition for years. Have to do something about it. Any psychometric could certify him.

Be no problem at all to have him put away, but be blasted if he'd do that. That was no way to repay loyalty, even insane loyalty. Well, he'd find a way. He let a cigarette and leaned back, looking up at the glowing swirl of billions of billions of tiny lights in the ceiling. At least there were supposed to be billions of billions of them. He never counted them, and neither had any of the seventeen Rodericks and sixteen Pauls before him who had sat under them.

His hand moved to a control button on its chair arm, and a red patch, roughly the shape of a pork-shop, appeared on the western side. That was the Empire. Every one of the thousand three hundred and sixty-five inhabited worlds, a trillion and a half intelligent beings, fourteen races, fifteen, if you counted the Sarasutrian fuzzies, who were almost able to qualify under the talk and build a fire rule. And that had been the empire when Roderick the sixth had seen the map completed, and when Paul II had built the palace, and when Stefan IV, the grandfather of Paul.

the first, had proclaimed Odin the imperial planet, and escarred the capital city. There had been some excuse for staying inside that patch of stars then. A newly one empire must be consolidated within, before it can safely be expanded. But that had been over eight centuries ago. He looked at the daily schedule, beautifully embossed and neatly slipped under his desk-glass, Lunch in on the south upper terrace with the Prime Minister and the bench of Imperial Councillors. Yes, it was time for that again.

That happened as inevitably and regularly as Harvedor Flay's murder plots. And in the afternoon a plenary session, cabinet, and councillors. Was he going to have to endure the bench of councillors twice at the same day? Then the vexation was washed out of his face by a spreading Grin. Bench of Counselors. That was the answer. Elevate Horv Doroflay to the bench. That was what the bench was for. A gold-plated dust-spin for the disposal of superannuated dignitaries. He knew no harm there, and a touch of outright lunacy might enliven and even improve the bench. And in the evening a banquet and a reception in ball, in honor of His Majesty Ronald VIII,

Planetary King of Dorondal and First Citizen, Zirth Yago, People's Manager-in-Chief of and for the Planetary Commonwealth of Aditya. Bargand Day Two planetary chiefs of state in one big combination deal. He wondered what sort of prizes he had drawn this time and closed his eyes, trying to remember. Dorindal, of course, was one of the sword worlds, settled by refugees from the losing side of the system states war, in the time of the Old Terran Federation, who had reappeared in galactic history a few centuries later as the Space Vikings.

They all had monarchial and rather picturesque governments. Durandall he seemed to recall was a sort of quasi-futalism. About Aditya, he was less sure, something unpleasant, he thought, the titles of the government and his head were suggestive. He lit another cigarette and snapped on the reading screen to see what they had piled onto him this morning, and then swore when a graph chart with jiggling red and blue and green lines appeared. Chart day two.

Everything happens at once. It was the interstellar trade situation chart from economics. Red line for production, green line for exports, blue for imports, sectioned vertically for the ten vice royalties and subsection for the perfectitures. And with the magnification and focus controls, he could even get data for individual planets. He didn't bother with that, and wondered why he bothered with the charts at all. The stuff was at least twenty days behind date, and not uniformly so, which accounted for much of the jiggling.

It had been transmitted from planetary pro-consulate to prefecture, and and from Prefecture to Vice Royalty, and from there to Odin all by ship. A ship on Hyperdrive could log light years an hour, but radio waves still had to travel 186,000 miles per second. The supplementary chart for the past five centuries told the real story. Three perfectly level and perfectly parallel lines. It was the same on all the other charts. fluctuating slightly at the moment, completely static for the past five centuries.

A slight decrease in agriculture, matched by an increase in synthetic food production. A slight population movement toward the more urban planets and the more densely populated centers. A trend downward in employment, non-working population increasing by about 0.001% annually. Not that they were building better robots, they were just building them faster than they wore out. They all told the same story. A stable economy, a static population, a peaceful and undisturbed empire. Eight centuries, five at least, of historyless tranquility. Well, that was what everybody wanted, wasn't it? He flipped through the rest of the charts and began getting summarized ministry reports. Economics had denied a request from the mining

Cartel to authorize operations on a couple of uninhabited planets, danger of local market gluts, and overstimulation of manufacturing. Permission granted to Robotics Cartel to request from Planetary Government of Durandall for increase of serial export quotas under consideration. They wouldn't want to turn that down while King Ronellf was here. Impulsively, he punched out a combination on the communication screen and got count Douglas, Minister of Economics. Count Douglas had thinning red hair and a plump, agreeable, extroverts face.

He smiled and waited to be addressed. "'Sorry to bother your lordship,' Paul greeted him. "'What's the story on this export quota request from Durandall? We have their king here now. Think he's come to a lobby for it?' Count Douglas chuckled. He's not doing anything about it himself. Have you met him yet, sir?'

Not yet. He's to be presented this evening. Well, when you see him, I think the masculine pronoun is permissible. You'll see what I mean, sir. It's this Lord Koref, the Marshal. He came here on business and had to bring the king along, for fear somebody else would grab him while he was gone. The whole object of Duren-Dolly in politics, as I understand it, is to get possession of the person of the king.

Corref was on my screen for half an hour. I just got rid of him. Planet's pretty heavily agricultural. They had a couple of very good crop years in a row, and now they have grain running out their ears, and they want to export it and cash in. Well, can't let them do it, Your Majesty. They're not suffering any hardships. They're just not making as much money as they think they ought to.

If they start dumping their surplus into interstellar trade, they'll cause all kinds of dislocations on other agricultural planets. At least that's what our computers all say. And that, of course, was Gospel. He nodded. Why don't they turn their surplus into whiskey? Age at five or six years, and it'd be on the luxury good schedule, and they could sell it anywhere.

Count Douglas's eyes widened. I never thought of that, your majesty. Just a microseque. I want to make a note of that. pass it down to somebody who could deal with it. That's a wonderful idea, your majesty.' He finally got the conversation to an end and went back to the reports. Security, as usual, had a few items above the dead level of bureaucratic procedure.

The planetary king of Excalibur had been assassinated by his brother and two nephews, all three of whom were now fighting among themselves. As nobody had anything to fight with except small arms and a fuel-like cannon, there would be no intervention. There had been intervention on Behemoth, however, when a whole continent had tried to secede from the planetary republic, and the Imperial Navy had been requested to send a task force. That was all right in both cases. No interference with anything that passed for a planetary government, but only one sovereignty on any planet with nuclear weapons, and only one supreme sovereignty in a galaxy

with hyper-drive ships. And there had been rioting on Amaterasu because of the public indignation over a fraudulent election. He looked at that in end credulous delight. Why, here on Odin, there hadn't been an election in the past six centuries that hadn't been utterly fraudulent. Nobody voted except the non-workers, whose votes were bought and sold wholesale by gangster bosses to pressure groups,

and no decent person would be caught within a hundred yards of a polling place on an election day. He called the Minister of Security. Prince Trevon was a man of his own age. They had been classmates at the university, but he looked older. His thin face was lined, and his hair was almost completely white. He was at his desk with the sun and cog-wheel of the Empire on the wall behind him, But on the breast of his black tunic he wore the badge of his family, a silver planet with three silver moons.

Unlike Count Douglas, he didn't wait to be spoken to. Good morning, Your Majesty. Good morning, Your Highness. Sorry to bother you. I just caught an interesting item in your report. This business on Amadarazu. What sort of a planet is it politically? I don't seem to recall.

End of part one. Part 2 of Ministry of Disturbance by H. Beam Piper. This Librivox recording is in the public domain. Part 2 Why, they have a Republican government, sir, a very complicated setup. Really, it's a junk heap. When anything goes badly, they always build something new into the government, but they never abolish anything.

They have a president, a premier, and an executive. Executive Cabinet and a tricameral legislature and two complete and distinct judiciaries. The Premier is always the presidential candidate getting the next highest number of votes. In the present instance, the President, who controls the Planetary Militia, is accusing the Premier, who controls the police, a fraud in the election of the Middle House of the Legislature. Each is supported by the judiciary he controls. Luckily, every citizen belongs either to the militia or the police auxiliaries. I am looking forward to further reports from Amatiratsu, he added dryly.

I dare say they'll be interesting. Send them to me in full and red-star them, if you please, Prince Trevon. He went back to the reports. The Ministry of Science and Technology had sent up a lengthy one. The only trouble with it was that everything reported was duplication of work. that had been done centuries before. Well, no, a Dr. Dandrick of the physics department of the Imperial University here in Asgard announced that a definite limit of accuracy in measuring the velocity of accelerated

subnucleonic particles had been established 16.06754333 times light speed. That seemed to be typical. The frontiers of science now were all decimal points. The Ministry of Education had a little to offer. Historical scholarship was still active at least. He was reading about a new trove of source material that had come to light on Uler from the Sixth Century Atomic Era when the door screen buzzed and flashed. He lit it and his son Roderick appeared in it with Snooks, the little red hound swirming

excitedly in the crown prince's arms. The dog began barking at once and the boy called through the phone. Good morning, father. Are you busy?" Oh, not at all. He pressed the release button. Come on in." Immediately the little hound leaped out of the princely arms and came dashing into the study and around the desk, jumping onto his lap.

The boy followed more slowly, sitting down in the desk-side chair and drawing his foot up under him. Paul greeted Snooks first. People can wait, but for little dogs everything. has to be right now, and rummaged in a drawer until he found some wafers, holding one for snooks to nibble. Then he became aware that his son was wearing leather shorts and tall buskins. Going out somewhere, he asked a trifle enviously.

Up in the mountains for a picnic, Olvas going along. And his tutor and his esquire and Olvas companion lady, and a dozen Thorin riflemen, of course, and they'd be. be in continuous screen contact with the palace." That ought to be a lot of fun. Did you get all your lessons done? Physics and math and galactography," Roderick told him, and Professor Goulassan's going to give me an Ova a history after lunch.

They talked about lessons and about the picnic. Of course, Snooks was going on the picnic, too. It was evident, though, that Roderick—Rodrick had something else on his mind that—that After a while he came out with it. Father, you know, I've been a little afraid lately," he said. Well, tell me about it, son. It isn't anything about you and Ova, is it?" Rod was fourteen.

The little Princess Ova, thirteen. They would be marriageable in six years. As far as anybody could tell they were both quite happy about the marriage which had been arranged for them years ago. Oh, no, nothing like that. But Ova's sister and a couple of others. of mother's ladies-in-waiting were to a sigh medium, and the medium told them that there were going to be changes.

Great and frightening changes was what she said. She didn't specify. No, just that. Great and frightening changes. But the only change of that kind I can think of would be, well, something happening to you. Snooks, having eaten three wafers, was trying to lick his ear. He pushed the little dog back into his lap and pummeled him gently with his left hand.

You mustn't let mediums gabble worry you, son. These si-mediums have real powers, but they can't turn them off and on like a water tap. When they don't get anything, they don't like to admit it, and they invent things. Always generalities like that, never anything specific. I know all that, the boy seemed offended as though somebody was. explaining that his mother hadn't really found him out in the Rose Garden. But they talked about it to some of their friends, and it seemed that other mediums are saying the same thing.

Father, do you remember when the Havall Valley reactor blew up? All over Odin the mediums had been talking about a terrible accident for a month before that happened. I remember that. Harve Dorfley believed that somebody had been falsely informed that the Emperor would visit the plant that day. These great and frightening changes will probably turn out to be a new fad and abstract sculpture. Any change frightens most people.

They talked more about mediums and then about air cars and air car racing, and about the Emperor's Cup race that was to be flown in a month. The communication screen began flashing and buzzing, and after he had silenced it with the busy button for the third time, Roderick said that. it was time for him to go, came around to gather up Snooks and went out, saying that he'd be home in time for the banquet. The screen began to flash again as he went out. It was Prince Ganzae, the Prime Minister.

He looked as though he had a persistent low-level toothache, but that was his ordinary expression. Sorry to bother your majesty. It's about these chiefs of state. Count Godvan the Chamberlain appealed to me, and I feel I should ask your advice. It's the matter of precedence." "'Well, we have a fixed rule on that. Which one arrived first?' "'Why, the Ation.

But it seems King Ronulf insists that he's entitled to precedence, or rather his Lord Marshal does. This Lord Corref insists that his king is not going to yield precedent to a commoner. Then he can go home to Dorindal.' He felt himself growing angry. All the little angers of the morning were focusing on one spot. He forced the harshness out of his voice. At a court function somebody has to go first, and our rule is order of arrival at the palace.

That rule was established to avoid violating the principle of equality to all civilized peoples and all planetary governments. We're not going to set it aside for the king of Durendahl or anybody else. Prince Ganzei nodded. Some of the toothache expression had gone out of his face now that he had been relieved of the decision. Of course, Your Majesty. He brightened a little. Do you think we might compromise, alternate the precedence, I mean?

Only if this first citizen, Yago, consents. If he does, it would be a good idea. I'll talk to him, sir. The toothache expression came back. Another thing, Your Majesty, they've both been invited to attend the plenary session this afternoon. Well, no trouble there. They can enter by different doors and sit in visitors' boxes at opposite ends of the hall.

Well, sir, I wasn't thinking of precedence, but this is to be an elective session, new members to replace Prince Havilley of Defense, deceased, and Count Frosk of science and technology, elevated to the bench. There seems to be some difference of opinion among some of the ministers and counselors. It's very possible that the session may degenerate into an outright controversy. Horrible, Paul said seriously. I think, though, that our distinguished guests will see that the empire can survive difference of opinion and even outright controversy. But if you think it might have a bad effect, why not postpone the election? Well, it's been postponed three times already, sir.

Postpone it permanently. Advertise for bids on two robot ministers, defense and science and technology. If there are success, we can set up a project to design a robot emperor. The prime minister's face actually twitched and blanched at the blasphemy. Your Majesty is joking, he said as though he wanted to be reassured on the point. Unfortunately, I am. If my job could be robotized, maybe I could take my wife and son and a little dog and go fishing for a while."

But of course he couldn't. There were only two alternatives. The Empire or Galactic Anarchy. The galaxy was too big to hold general elections, and there had to be a supreme ruler and a positive and automatic, which meant hereditary, means of succession. Whose opinion seems to differ from whose and about what?" he asked. Well, Count Ducluss and Count Tompson want to have the Ministry of Science and Technology abolished and its functions and personnel distributed.

Count Ducluss means to take over the technological sections under economics, and Count Tompsohn will take over the science part under education. The proposal is going to be introduced at this session by Count Guilfred, the Minister of Health and Sanity. He hopes to get some of the bio and psychoscience sections for his own ministry. That's right. Douglas gets the hide. Tom Sond gets the head and horns, and everybody who hunts with them gets a cut of the meat. That's good sound law of the chase.

I'm not in favor of it myself. Prince Gonzee, at this session I wish you'd get Captain General Dorflet nominated for the bench. I feel that it is about time to honor him with elevation." General Dorflei? But why, Your Majesty? Great Galaxy, do you have to ask? Why it's because the man's a raving lunatic? He oughtn't even to be trusted with a sidearm, let alone five companies of armed soldiers.

Do you know what he told me this morning? That somebody is training a Nilhog swamp crawler to crawl up the octagon tower and bite you at breakfast, I suppose. But hasn't that been going on for quite a while, sir? It was a gimmick in one of the cooking robots, but that's aside from the question. He's finally named the mastermind behind all these nightmares of his, and who do you think it is? Yarn Travon.

The Prime Minister's face grew graver than usual. Well, it was something to look grave about. Some of these days. Your Majesty, I couldn't possibly agree more about the General's mental condition. But I really should say that crazy or not. He is not alone in his suspicions of Prince Trevon. If sharing them makes me a lunatic too, so be it. But share them I do."

Paul felt his eye. brows, lift, and surprise. That's quite too much and too little, Prince Gonsay, he said. Oh, with your permission, I'll elaborate. Don't think that I suspect Prince Trevon of any childish prank with elevators of view-screens or cooking robots. The Prime Minister hastened to disclaim. But I definitely do suspect him of treasonous ambitions.

I suppose Your Majesty knows that he is the first Minister of Secure. in centuries who has assumed personal control of both the planetary and municipal police instead of delegating his ex officio powers. Your Majesty may not know, however, of some of the peculiar uses he has been making of those authorities. Does Your Majesty know that he has recruited the Security Guard up to at least ten times the strength needed to meet any. conceivable peace maintenance problem on this planet and that he has been piling up huge

quantities of heavy combat equipment guns up to 200 millimeter heavy contra gravity even gun cutters and bomb and rocket boats and does your majesty know that most of this armament is massed within 15 minutes flight time of this palace or that Prince Stravan has at his disposal from two and a half to three times in men and firepower the combined strength of the planetary militia and the imperial army on this planet. I know. It has my approval. He's trying to salvage some of the young nun workers through exposing them to military discipline. Hey, good many of them, I believe, have gone off planet on their discharge from the SG and hired his mercy.

which is a far better profession than vote-selling. Quite a plausible explanation. Prince Trevon is nothing, if not plausible, the Prime Minister agreed. And does Your Majesty know that, because of repeated demands for support from the Ministry of Security, the Imperial Navy has been scattered all over the Empire, and that there is not a naval craft bigger than

a scout boat within fifteen hundred light years of Odin?" That was absolutely true. Paul could only nod agreement. Prince Ganze continued. He has been doing some peculiar things, as Police Chief of Asgard, too. For instance, there are two powerful non-workers voting block bosses, Big Mugie Blisco and Zico the nose. I assure your majesty that I am not inventing these names.

That's what the persons are actually called. Who have been enjoying the favor and support of Prince Trevon? On a number of occasions, their smaller rivals, leaders of less important gangs, have been arrested, often untrumped up charges and held incommunicado, until either Mugi or Zico could move into their territories and annex their non-worker followers. These two block bosses are subsidized, respectfully, by the steel and ship-building cartels, and by the reaction products and chemical cartels, but actually they are controlled by Prince Trevon.

They in turn control between them about 70% of the non-workers in Asgard. And you think this adds up to a plot against the throne? A plot to seize the throne, your majesty. Oh, come, Prince, Kanzai, you're talking like Dorfley. Hear me out, your majesty. His Imperial Highness is fourteen years old. It will be eleven years before he will be legally able to assume the powers of emperor. In the dreadful event of your immediate death, it would mean a regency for that long.

Of course, your ministers and councillors would be the ones to name the regent, but I know how they would vote with security bayonets at their throats, and regency might not be the limit of Prince Trevon's ambitions. In your own words, quite plausible Prince Gansay. It rests, however, on a very questionable foundation. The assumption that Prince Trouvan is stupid enough to want the throne. He had to terminate the conversation himself and blank the screen. Victor Gunze was still staring at him in shocked incredulity when his image vanished.

Victor Gunze could not imagine anybody not wanting the throne, not even the man who had to sit on it. He sat for a while looking at the darkened screen a little worried. Victor Ganza said a much better understanding. intelligence service than he had believed. He wondered how much Gunzee that found out that he hadn't mentioned. Then he went back to the reports. He had gotten down to the Ministry of Fine Arts when the communication screen began calling attention to itself again. When he flipped the switch, a woman smiled out of it at him. Her blonde hair was rumpled, and she wore a dressing

gown. Her smile brightened as his face appeared in her screen. "'Hi,' she greeted him. "'Hi, yourself. You just get up?' She raised a hand to cover a yawn. "'I'll bet you've been up raining for hours. Were Rod and Snooks in to see you yet?' He nodded. They just left. Rod's going on a picnic with Olva in the mountains. How long had it been since he and Morris had been on a picnic, a real picnic, with less than fifty guards and as many courtiers along? Do you have much raining to do this afternoon?

She grimaced. Flower festivals I have to make personal trite appearances live with messages for the loving subjects. Three minutes on and a two-minute break between. I have farty this afternoon. Ugh, well, have a good time, sweetheart. All I have is lunch with the bench and then this plenary session. He told her about Gonzay's fear of outright controversy.

Oh, fun! Maybe somebody'll pull somebody's whiskers or something. I'm in on that, too." The call indicator in front of him began glowing with the code symbol of the Minister of Security. We can always hope, can't we? Well, Yarn Trevon's trying to get me now. Don't keep him waiting. Maybe I can see you before the session.

She made a kissing motion with her lips at him and blanked the screen. He flipped the switch again, and Prince Trevon was on the screen. The security minister didn't waste time being sorry to bother him. End of Part 2. Three of Ministry of Disturbance by H. Beam Piper. This Librebox recording is in the public domain. Part 3 Your Majesty. A report just come in that there is a serious riot at the university.

Between 5,000 and 10,000 students are attacking the administration center, lobbying stench bombs into it and threatening to hang Chancellor Kane. They have already overwhelmed and disarmed the campus police, and I've sent two companies of the Gendarme Riot Brigade under an officer I can trust to handle things firmly, but intelligently. We don't want any indiscriminate stunning or tear-gassing or shooting. All sorts of people can have sons and daughters mixed up in a student riot. Yes, I seem to recall student riots in which the sons of his late highness Prince Trouvan

and his late Majesty Roderick II were involved. He deliberated the point for a moment and added, "'This scarcely sounds like a frat-fight or a panty-raid, though. What seems to have triggered it?' "'The story I got, a rather hysterical call for help from Kane himself, is that they're protesting an action of his and dismissing a faculty member. I have a couple of undercovers at the university, and I'm trying to contact them. I sent more undercovers who could pass for students ahead of the Gendarms to get the

student's side of it, and the names of the ringleaders. He glanced down at the indicator in front of him, which had begun to glow. If you will pardon me, sir, Count Tom Sons trying to get me. He may have particulars. I'll call your majesty back when I learn anything more. There hadn't been anything like that at the university within the memory of the oldest grad. Chancellor Kane he knew was a stupid and arrogant old windbag with a swollen sense of his own importance. He made a small bet with himself that the whole thing was Kane's fault, but he wondered what lay

behind it and what would come out of it. Great plagues from little microbes start. Great and frightening changes. The screen got itself into an uproar, and he flipped the switch. It was very Victor Ganze again. He looked as though his permanent toothache had deserted him for the moment. Sorry to bother your majesty, but it's all fixed up, he reported. First citizen Iago agreed to alternate in precedence with King Ronald, and Lord Corref has withdrawn all his objections. As far as I can see at present, there should be no trouble.

Fine. I suppose you heard about the excitement at the university? Oh, yes, Your Majesty, disgraceful affair. Simply shocking. What seems to have started it. Have you heard? He asked. All I know is that the students who are protesting the dismissal of a faculty member.

He must have been exceptionally popular, or else he got a more than ordinary raw deal from Kane. Well, as to that, sir, I can't say all I learned was, that it was the result of some faculty squabble in one of the science departments. The grounds for the dismissal were insubordination and contempt for authority. I always thought that when authority began inspiring contempt it had stopped being authority. Did you say science? This isn't going to help Douglas and Thompson any. I'm afraid not your majesty.

Gansay didn't look particularly. regretful. The news cartels got hold of it and are using it. It'll be all over the Empire." He said that as though it meant something. Well, maybe it did. A lot of ministers and almost all the councillors spent most of their time worrying about what people on planets like Chirmosh and Zarathustra and Diedre and Quexicotal might think. In ignorance of the fact that interest in empire politics varied inversely as the squared of the distance to Odin and the level of corruption and inefficiency of the local government." I notice you'll be at the bench luncheon.

Do you think you could invite our guests to?" We could have an informal presentation before it starts. Can do? Good. I'll be seeing you there. When the screen was blanked, he returned to the reports, ran them off hastily to make sure that nothing had been red-stored, and called a robot to clear the projector. while Prince Trevon called again.

Sorry to bother your majesty, but I have most of the facts on the riot now. What happened was that Chancellor Kane sacked a professor of physics department, under circumstances which aroused resentment among the science students. Some of them walked out of class and went to the stadium to hold a protest meeting, and the thing snowballed until half the students were in it. Kane lost his head and ordered the campus police to clear the stadium. The students rushed them and swamp them. I hope for their sakes that none of my men never let anything like that happen.

The man I sent a Colonel Andrasan managed to talk the students into going back to the stadium and continuing the meeting under John Donne protection. Sounds like a good man. Very good, Your Majesty, especially in handling disturbances. I have complete confidence in him. He's also investigating the background of the affair. I'll give your majesty what he's learned to date. It seems that the head of the physics department,

a professor Nelson Dundrick, had been conducting an experiment assisted by Professor Klin Fores, to establish more accurately the velocity of subnucleonic particles, beta micropositos, I believe. Dandrick's story, as related to Henderson by Kane, is that he reached a limit and the apparatus began giving erratic results. Prince Trevon stopped to light a cigarette. At this point, Professor Dandrick ordered the experiment stopped, and Professor Farras insisted

on continuing. When Dandrhic ordered the apparatus dismantled, Ferris became rather emotional about it, obscenely abusive and threatening, according to Dandrick. Dandrick complained to Cain. Cain ordered Ferris to apologize, Ferris refused, and Cain dismissed Ferris. Immediately the students went on strike. Ferris confirmed the whole story and he added one small detail that Dandrick hadn't seen fit to mention.

According to him, when these micropositoes were accelerated beyond sixteen and a fraction times light speed. they began registering at the target before the source registered the emission. Yes, I—what did you say? Prince Trevon repeated it slowly, distinctly, and tonelessly. That was what I thought you said. Well, I'm going to insist on a complete investigation, including a repetition of the experiment under direction of Professor Ferris.

Yes, Your Majesty, and when that happens I mean to be on hand personally. If somebody is just before discovering time travel, I think security has a very substantial interest in it." The Prime Minister called back to confirm that first citizen Yago and King Runulf would be at the luncheon. The Chamberlain, Count Godvon, called with a long and dreary problem about the protocol for the banquet. Finally at noon he flashed a signal for General Dorfley, waited five minutes, and then left his desk and went out, to find the mad general and his wire-haired soldiers drawn

up in the hall. There were more thorns on the south upper terrace, and after a flurry of porting and presenting and ordering arms, and hand-soluting, the Prime Minister advanced and escorted him to wear the bench of counselors, all thirty of them, total age close to twenty-eight hundred years, were drawn up in a rough crescent behind the three distinguished guests. The King of Durandall wore a cloth of silver leotard and pink tights and a belt of gold links on which he carried a jeweled dagger, only slightly thicker than a knitting needle. He was slender and willowy, and he had large and soulful eyes.

and the royal beautician must have worked on him for a couple of hours. Wait till Mara sees this. Oh, brother! Correff, the Lord Marshal, wore what was probably the standard costume of Durandall, a fairly long jerkin with short sleeves and knee-boots, and his dress dagger looked as though it had been designed for use. Lord Corif looked as though he would be quite willing and able, to use it. He was fleshy and full-faced, with hard muscles under the flesh. First Citizen Yago, People's Manager-in-Chief of and for, the Planetary Commonwealth of Aditya,

wore a one-piece white garment like a mechanic's cover-alls, with the emblem of his government and the numeral one on his breast. He carried no dagger. If he had worn a dress weapon, it would probably have been a slide rule. His head was completely shaven, and he had small pale eyes and rat-trap mouth. He was regarding the Duranilians with a distaste that was all too evidently reciprocated. King Ronelluf appeared to have won the toss for first presentation. He squeezed the imperial hand in both of his and looked up adoringly as he professed his deep honor and pleasure.

merely clasped both his hands in front of the emblem on his chest, and raised them quickly to the level of his chin, saying, At the service of the imperial state, and adding as though it hurt him, your imperial majesty. Not being a chief of state, Lord Koref came third. He merely shook hands and said, A great honor, your imperial majesty, and the thanks, both of myself and my royal master, for a most gracious reception. The attempt to grab first place having failed, he was more than willing to forget the whole

subject. There was a chance that finding a way to dispose of the grain surplus might make the difference between his staying in power at home or not. Fortunately, the three guests had already met the bench of counselors. Immediately after the presentation of Lord Koref, they all started the 200 yards marched to the luncheon pavilion, the King of Dorondal clinging to his left arm, and first citizen Yago stomping dowerly on his right, with Prince Ganzae beyond him and Lord Kareff on Rannels left.

Do you plan to stay long on Odin? he asked the king. Oh, I love to stay for simply months. Everything is so wonderful here in Asgard. It makes our little capital of Roncesvo seem so utterly provincial. I'm going to tell your majesty a secret. I'm going to see if I can lure some of your wonderful ballet dancers back to Durandall with me. Aren't I a naughty raiding your imperial majesty's theatres?' "'In keeping with the traditions of your people,' he replied gravely.

"'You sword-worlders used to raid everywhere you went.' I'm afraid those bad old days are long past your imperial majesty, Lord Karev said. But we sword-worlders got around the galaxy for a while. In fact, I seem to remember reading that some of our brethren from Morglai or Flemberg even occupied Aditya for a couple of centuries, not that you'd guess to look at Adidia now. It was first citizen Yago's turn to take precedence. the seat on the right of the throne chair. Lauren Karev sat on Reynolds left, and to balance him, Prince Ganze sat beyond Yago,

and dutifully began inquiring of the people's manager-in-chief about the structure of his government, launching him on a monologue that promised the last at least half the luncheon. That left the King of Durandall to Paul. For a start, he dropped a compliment on the cloth of silver leotard. king reyolfe laughed dulcently brushed the garment with his finger-tips and said that it was just a simple thing pattern after the durundalian peasant costume you have peasants on durendal oh dear yes such quaint charming people of course they're all poor and they wear such funny ragged clothes and travel about in rackety old air-cars it's a wonder they don't fall apart of the air-and-and-and-a-court of the air-and-and-warker and they don't fall apart of the air-and-and-a-old air-cars and it's a wonder they don't fall apart of the air-and-one But they're so wonderfully happy and carefree. I often wish I were one of them instead of king."

Non-working class, your imperial majesty, Lord Karef explained. On Aditya, first citizen Yago declared, There are no classes, and on Aditya, everybody works, from each according to his ability to each according to his need. On Aditya, an elderly counselor four places to the right of him said loudly to his neighbor, they don't call them classes, they call them sociological categories, and they have nineteen of them, and on Aditya they don't call them non-workers, they call them occupational reservists, and they have more of them than we do.

But of course I was born a king, Renov said sadly and nobly. I have a duty to my people." "'No, they don't vote at all,' Lord Coraff was telling the councillor on his left. "'On Dorandall, you have to pay taxes before you can vote.' "'On Aditya, the crime of taxation does not exist,' the first citizen told the Prime minister. "'On Adidia, the councilor four places down said to his neighbor, "'There's nothing to tax.

"'The state owns all the property, and if the impedeer, Constitution and the Space Navy left them, the state would own all the people, too. Don't tell me about Aditya. First big ship command I had with the old Invictus 374, and she was based on Aditya for four years, and I soon have spent that time in orbit around in Niflheim. Now Paul remembered who he was. Old Admiral, now Prince, counselor, Goklor. He and Prince Counselor D'Orfley would get along famously. The Lord Marshal of Durendal was replying to some objections somebody had made. No, nothing of the sort.

We hold a view that every civil or political right implies a civil or political obligation. The citizen has a right to protection from the realm, for instance. He therefore has the obligation to defend the realm, and his right to participate in the government of the realm includes his obligation to support the realm financially. Well, we tax only property. If a nun worker acquires taxable property, he has to go to work to earn the taxes. I might add that our non-workers are very careful to avoid acquiring taxable property. But if they don't have votes to sell, what do they live on?

A counselor asked in bewilderment. The nobility supports them, the landowners, the trading barons, the industrial lords. The more non-working adherents they have, the greater their prestige. And the more rifles they could muster when they quarrel with their fellow-novels, of course. Besides, if we didn't do that, they turned brigand, and it costs less to support them than to have to hunt them out of the brush and hang them. On Aditya, brigandage does not exist. On Aditya, all the Briggins belong to the secret police.

Only on Aditya they don't call them secret police. They call them servants of the people ninth category. A shadow passed quickly over the pavilion and then another. He glanced up quickly to see two long black troop carriers, emblazoned with the sun and cog-wheel and armored fist of security, pass back of the octagon tower, and let down on the north landing stage. A third followed. He rose quickly.

Please remain seated, gentlemen, and continue with a luncheon. If you will excuse me for a moment I'll be back directly. I hope, he added mentally. Captain General Dorfley, surrounded by a dozen officers, Thorin and Human, had arrived on the lower terrace at the base of the octagon tower. They had a full Thorne rifle company with them. As he went down to them, Dorfley hurried forward. "'It has come, Your Majesty,' he said as soon as he could make himself heard without raising his voice. We are all ready to die with your majesty.'

"'Oh, I doubt it'll come to that, Horv,' he said. "'But just to be on the safe side, take that company and the gentlemen who are with you, and get up to the mountains, and join the crown prince in his party. Here. He took a note-pad from his belt-pouch and wrote rapidly, sealing the note and giving it to Dorfley. Give this to His Highness, and place yourself under his orders. I know he's just a boy, but he has a good head.

Obey him exactly at everything, but under no circumstances, return to the palace, or allow him to return until I call you. "'Your Majesty is ordering me away?' The old soldier was aghast. An emperor who has a son can be spared. An emperor's son who is too young to marry can't. You know that.' Har of Dorfley was only mad on one subject,

and even within the frame of his madness, he was intensely logical. He nodded. Yes, your majesty. We both serve the empire as best we can, and I will guard the little Princess Olva, too." He grasped Paul's hand and said, Farewell, Your Majesty, and dashed away, gathering his staff and the company of Thorans as he went. In an instant they had vanished down the nearest rampway. The Emperor watched their departure, and at the same time saw a big black air-car, burying the three-moon

planet, Argent on Sable, of Trevon, let down onto the south landing stage, and another troop carrier let down after it. Four men left the air car. Yarn, Prince Trevon, and three officers in the black of the security guard. Prince Gonze had also left the table. He came from one direction as Prince Stravon advanced from the other. They converged on the Emperor. "'What's happening here, Prince Trevon?'

Gonzay demanded, why are you bringing all these troops to the palace?" "'Your Majesty,' Prince Trevon said smoothly. "'I trust that you will pardon this disturbance. I'm sure nothing serious will happen, but I didn't dare take chances.' These students from the university are marching on the palace, perfectly peaceful and loyal procession. They're bringing a petition for your majesty, but on the way, while passing through a non-workers district. They were attacked by a gang of hooligans connected with a voting-block boss

called Nuchy the Knife. None of the students were hurt, and Colonel Henderson got the procession out of the district promptly, and then dropped some of his men who have since been reinforced to deal with the hooligans. That's still going on, and these riots are like forest fires. You never know when they'll shift and get out of control. I hope the men I brought won't be needed here. Really, they're a reserve for the riot work. I won't commit them, though, until I'm sure the palace is safe." End of Part 3. Part 4 of Ministry of Disturbance by H. Beam Piper. This Leary Vox recording is in the public domain. Part 4. He nodded. Prince Trevon, how soon do you estimate that the student procession will arrive here?

He asked. They're coming on foot, Your Majesty. I give them an hour at least. Well, Prince Trevon, will you have one of your officers see that the public address screen in front is ready? I want to talk to them when they arrive. And meanwhile, I'll want to talk to Chancellor Kane, Professor Dandrick, Professor Foresse, and Colonel Henderson together, and Count Tomson, too. Prince Ganze, will you please screen him and invite him here immediately?

Now, Your Majesty? At first the Prime Minister was trying to suppress a look of incredulity. Then he was trying to keep from showing comprehension. Yes, Your Majesty, at once. He frowned slightly when he saw two of the Security Guard officers salute Prince Dravon, instead of the emperor before going away. Then he turned and hurried toward the Octagon Tower. The officer who had gone to the air car to use the radio returned,

and reported that Colonel Hondurasan was bringing the chancellor and both professors from the university in his command car, having anticipated that they would be wanted. Paul nodded in pleasure. "'You have a good man there, Prince,' he said. "'Keep an eye on him.' I know it, Your Majesty. To tell the truth, it was he who organized this march. Thought they'd be better employed coming here to petition you than milling around the university,

getting into further mischief. The other officer also returned, bringing a portable viewscreen with him on a contra-gravity lifter. By this time, the bench of counselors and the three off-planet guests had become anxious and left the luncheon pavilion in a body. The counselors were looking about uneasily, noticing the black uniform security guards who had left the troop carrier and were taking positions by squads all around the emperor. First citizen Yago and King Ronov and Lord Koref also seemed uneasy.

They were avoiding the proximity of Paul as though he had the green death. The view screen came on and in it the city, as seen from an air-carriage. car at 2,000 feet, spread out with the palace visible in the distance, the golden pile of the octagon tower jutting up from it. The car carrying the pickup was behind the procession which was moving toward the palace along one of the broad skyways, with gendarmes and security guards leaning, following and flanking. There were a few imperial and planetary and school flags, but none of the quantity-made banners and placards which always betray a planned demonstration.

Prince Gonze had been gone for some time now. When he returned, he drew Paul aside. "'Your Majesty!' he whispered softly. "'I tried to summon army troops, but it'll be hours before any can get here. And the militia can't be mobilized in anything less than a day. There are only five thousand army regulars on Odin now anyhow. And half of them officers and none now. of skeleton regiments. Like the Navy, the army had been scattered all over the empire,

on behemoth and Amita and Sepetitech, and Astari, and Jontohim, in response to calls for support from security. Let's have a look at this rioting, Prince Trevon. One of the less decrepit counselors, a retired general said. I want to see how your people are handling it. The officers who had come with Prince Trevon consulted briefly and then got another pickup on the screen. This must have been a regular public pickup on the front of a tall building. It was a couple of miles farther away.

The palace was visible only as a tiny glint from the Octagon Tower on the skyline. Half a dozen security air cars were darting about, two of them chasing a battered civilian vehicle and firing at it. on rooftops and terraces and skyways little clumps of security guards were skirmishing dodging from cover to cover and sometimes individuals or groups in civilian clothes fired back at them there was a surprising absence of casualties your majesty the old general hissed in a scandalized whisper that's nothing but a big fake look they're all firing blanks the rifles hardly kick at all and there's too much smoke for propellant powder. I noticed that. This riot must have been carefully prepared long in advance.

Yet the student riot seemed to have been entirely spontaneous. That puzzled him. He wished he knew just what Yorne Trevon was up to. Just keep quiet about it, he advised. More air cars were arriving, big and luxurious, emblazoned with the arms of some of the most distinguished families in Asgard. One of the first to let down bore the device of Douglas, and from it the Minister of Economics,

the Minister of Education, and a couple of other ministers alighted. Count Douglas went at once to Prince Trevon, drawing him away from King Ranulf and Lord Corif, and talking to him rapidly and earnestly. Count Thompson approached that a swift half-run. "'Save your majesty,' he greeted breathlessly. "'What's going on, sir? We heard something about some petty brawl at the university

that Prince Ganzae had become alarmed about, but now there seemed to be fighting all over the city. I never saw anything like it. On the way here we had to go up to ten thousand feet to get over a battle, and there's a vast crowd on the avenue of the arts, and he looked at the security guards. Your Majesty, just what is going on?' Great and frightening changes, Count Tompson started.

He must have been to a sigh medium, too. But I think the Empire is going to survive them. There may even be a few improvements before things are done. A blue-uniformed gendarme officer approached Prince Trouban, drawing him away from Count Douglas and speaking briefly to him. The Minister of Security nodded, then turned back to the Minister of Economic. They talked for a few moments longer, then clasped hands, and Trevon left Douglas with his face,

reed in smiles. The gendarme officer accompanied him as he approached. Your Majesty, this is Colonel Handerson, the officer who handled the affair at the university. And a very good piece of work, Colonel. He shook hands with him. Don't be surprised if it's remembered next Honors Day. Did you bring Cain and the two professors? They're down on the lower landing stage, Your Majesty.

We're delaying the students to give your majesty time to talk to them. We'll see them now. My study will do. The officer saluted and went away. He turned to Count Tom's son. That's why I asked Prince Gunze to invite you here. This thing's become too public to be ignored. Some sort of action will have to be taken.

I'm going to talk to the students. I want to find out just what happened before I commit myself to anything. Well, gentlemen, let's go to my study. Count Tompson looked around, bewildered. But I don't understand. He fell into step with Paul and the Minister of Security. A squad of security guards fell in behind them. I don't understand what's happening, he complained.

An emperor, about to have his throne yanked out from under him. and a minister about to stage a coup d'et-top, taking time out to settle a trifling academic squabble. One thing he did understand, though, was that the Ministry of Education was getting some very bad publicity at a time when it could be least afforded. Prince Trevon was telling him about the hooligans attack on the marching students, and that worried him even more. Non-working hooligans acted as voting-block bosses ordered. Voting-block bosses acted on orders from the political manipulators of cartels and pressure groups, and action downward through the non-workers was usually accompanied by action upward through influences to which ministers were sensitive.

There were a dozen security guards in black tunics, and as many household thorns in red kilts in the hall outside the study, frattened. amicably. They hurried apart in form two ranks, and the Thorin officer with him saluted. Going into the study, he went to his desk. Count Tom Sond lit a cigarette, and puffed nervously, and sat down as though he were afraid the chair would collapse under him. Prince Trevon sank into another chair, and relaxed, closing his eyes.

There was a bit of wafer on the floor by Paul's chair, dropped by the little dog that morning. He stooped and picked it up, laying it on his desk, and sat looking at it until the door screen flashed and buzzed. Then he pressed the release button. Colonel Honderson ushered the three university men in ahead of him. Kane, with a florid, arrogant face that showed worry under the arrogance. Dandrick, gray-haired and stooped-shouldered, looking irritated.

Forrest, young, with a scrubby red moustache. stash-looking bellicose. He greeted them collectively and invited them to sit, and there was a brief uncomfortable silence which everyone expected him to break. "'Well, gentlemen,' he said, "'we want to get the facts about this affair in some kind of order. I wish you tell me, as briefly and as completely as possible, what you know about it.' "'There's the man who started it,' Cain declared, pointing at Farras. "'Professor Farras had nothing to do with it,' Colonel Henderson stated flatly. He and his wife were in the apartment packing to move out when it started.

Somebody called him and told him about the fighting at the stadium, and he went there at once to talk his students into dispersing. By that time the situation was completely out of hand. He could do nothing with the students. Well, I think we ought to find out, first of all, why Professor Farras was dismissed. Prince Trevon said. It will take a good deal to convince me that any teacher able to inspire such loyalty in his students is a bad teacher or deserves dismissal.

As I understand, Paul said, the dismissal was the result of a disagreement between Professor Fores and Professor Dandrick about an experiment on which they were working. I believe an experiment to fix more exactly the velocity of accelerated subneutral. nucleonic particles, beta-micropositos, wasn't it, Chancellor Kane?" Cain looked at him in surprise. "'Your Majesty, I know nothing about that. Professor Dandrick is head of the physics department. He came to me about six months ago and told me that, in his opinion, this experiment was desirable. I simply deferred to his judgment and authorized it.'

"'Your Majesty has just stated the purpose of the experiment,' Dandricks said. For centuries there have been inaccuracies in mathematical descriptions of sub-nucleonic events, and this experiment was undertaken in the hope of eliminating these inaccuracies. He went into a lengthy mathematical explanation. Yes, I understand that, Professor, but just what was the actual experiment in terms of physical operations? Dandrick looked helpless for a moment. for us who had been choking back a laugh interrupted. Your Majesty, we were using the big turbo-linear accelerator to project fast micropositos down

an evacuated tube one kilometer in length, and clocking them with light, the velocity of which has been established almost absolutely. I will say that with respect to the light there were no observable inaccuracies at any time, and until the Micropositos were accelerated to 16.0674333333 and one-third times light speed, they registered much as expected. Beyond that velocity, however, the target for the micropositos began registering impacts before the source-registered emission, although the light target was still registering normally. I notified Professor Dandrick about this, and

You notified him? Wasn't he present at the time?" No, Your Majesty. Your Majesty. I am head of the physics department of the University. I have too much administrative work to waste time on the technical aspects of experiments like this. Dandrick interjected. I understand. Professor Ferris was actually performing the experiment. You told Professor Dandrick what had happened. What then? Why, Your Majesty? He is.

He simply declared that the limit of accuracy had been reached, and ordered the experiment dropped. He then reported the highest reading before this anticipation effect was observed as the newly established limit of accuracy in measuring the velocity of accelerated micropositos, and said nothing whatever in his report about the anticipation effect. I read a summary of the report. Why, Professor Dandrick, did you admit mentioning this slightly unusual effect? Why?

Because the whole thing was utterly preposterous, that's why, Dandrick barked. And then hastily added, Your Imperial Majesty. He turned and glared at Ferres. Professors do not glare at Galactic Emperors. Your Majesty, the limit of accuracy, had been reached. After that it was only to be expected that the apparatus would give erratic reports. It might have been expected that the apparatus would. stop registering increased velocity relative to the light-speed standard, or that it would

begin registering disproportionately, For S said. But, Your Majesty, I'll submit that it was not to be expected that it would register impacts before emissions. And I'll add this. After registering this slight apparent jump into the future, there was no proportionate increase in anticipation with further increase in acceleration. I wanted to find out why. But when Professor Dandricks saw what was happening, he became almost hysterical,

and ordered the accelerator shut down as though he were afraid it would blow up in his face. I think it has blown up in his face, Prince Trevon said quietly. Professor, have you any theory or supposition or even any wild guess as to how this anticipation effect occurs? Yes, Your Highness. I suspect that the apparent anticipation is simply an observational illusion, similar to the illusion of time reversal experienced when it was first observed, though not realized, that positrons sometimes exceeded light-speed.

Why, that's what I've been saying all along, Dandrick broke in. The whole thing is an illusion due to having reached the limit of observational accuracy. I understand Professor Dandrick. Go on, Professor Fares. I think that beyond 16.0545433333 and one-third times light speed, the micropositos ceased to have any velocity at all, velocity being defined as rate of motion in four-dimensional space-time. I believe they moved through the three spatial dimensions

without moving at all in the fourth temporal dimension. They made that kilometer from source to target literally in nothing flat, instantaneity. That must have been the first time he had actually come out and set it. Dandrick jumped to his feet with a cry that was just short of being a shriek. "'He's crazy, your majesty. You mustn't. That is—well, I mean, please, Your Majesty, don't listen to him. He doesn't know what he's saying. He's raving.' He knows perfectly well what he's saying, and it probably scares him more than it does you. The difference is that he's willing to face it, and you aren't.

The difference was that Ferris was a scientist, and Dandrick was a science teacher. To Forrest a new door had opened, the first new door in eight hundred years. To Dandrick, it threatened invalidation of everything he had taught since the morning he had opened his first class. He could no longer say to his pupils, "'You are here to learn from me,' he would have to say more humbly. "'We are here to learn from the universe.' "'Yet had happened so many times before, too.

The comfortable and established universe had fitted all the known facts, and then new facts had been learned that wouldn't fit it. The third planet of the Sol system had once been, the center of the universe, and then Terra and Saul, and even the galaxy, had been forced to abdicate centricity. The atom had been indivisible until some body divided it. There had been intangible substance that had permeated the universe because it had been necessary for the transmission of light, until it was demonstrated to be unnecessary and none

And the speed of light had been the ultimate velocity once, and could be exceeded no more than an atom could be divided. And light speed had been constant, regardless of distance from source, and the universe, to explain certain observed phenomena, had been believed to be expanding simultaneously in all directions. And the thing that had happened in psychology, when sigh phenomena had become too obvious to be shrugged away. And then when Dr. Dandrick ordered you to drop this experiment just when it was becoming interesting, you refused.

Your Majesty, I couldn't stop. Not then. But Dr. Dandrick ordered the apparatus dismantled and scrapped, and I'm afraid I lost my head, told him to punch his silly old face in for one thing. You admit that, Chancellor Cain cried. I think you showed admirable self-restraint in not to do it. it. Did you explain to Chancellor Kane the importance of this experiment? I tried to, Your Majesty, but he simply wouldn't listen.

But Your Majesty, Kane expostulated. Professor Dendrick is head of the department, and one of the foremost physicist of the Empire, and this young man is only one of the junior assistant professors. Isn't even a full professor, and he got his degree from some school away off-planet, University of Brannerton on Gimley. Were you a pupil of Professor von Everett? Prince Trovan asked sharply. Why, yes, sir, I...

Ah, no wonder, Dandrick Crude. Your Majesty, that man's an out-and-out-sharlaton. He was kicked out of the university here ten years ago, and I'm surprised he could even get on the faculty of a school like Brannerton, on a planet like Gimley. "'Why, you stupid old fool,' Foress, yelled at him. "'You aren't enough of a physicist to all robots in Von Everett's lab.' "'There, your majesty,' Kane said.

"'You see how much respect for authority this hooligan has.' "'On Aditya, such would be unthinkable. "'On Aditya, everybody respects authority, whether it's respectable or not.' "'Count Tom's son laughed. and he realized that he must have spoken aloud. Nobody else seemed to have gotten the joke. Well, how about the riot now? He asked.

Who started that? Colonel Honderson made an investigation on the spot, Prince Trevon said. May I suggest that we hear his report? Yes, indeed. Colonel? End of Part 4. Part 5 of Ministry of Disturbance by H. Beam Piper. This Librivox recording is in the public domain.

Part 5 Honderson rose and stood with his hands behind his back, looking fixedly at the wall behind the desk. Your Majesty, the students of Professor Ferrella's advanced sub-nuclear physics class, post-graduate students, all of them, were told of Professor Ferreza's dismissal by a faculty member who had taken over the class this morning. They all got up and walked out in a body

and gathered outdoors on the campus to discuss the matter. At the next class break, they were joined by other science students, and they went into the stadium where they were joined, half an hour later, by more students who had learned of the dismissal in the meantime. At no time was the gathering disorderly. The stadium is covered by a view-screen pickup, which is fitted with a recording of a recording of a room. There is a complete audio visual of the whole thing, including the attack on them by the

campus police." The attack was ordered by Chancellor Kane at about 1,100. The chief of the campus police was told to clear the stadium, and when he asked if he was to use force, Chancellor Kane told him to use anything he wanted to. I did not. I told him to get the students out of the stadium, but the chief of campus police, carries a personal wire recorder, Andresan said in his flat monotone. He has a recording of the order in Chancellor Kane's own voice.

I heard it myself. The police, he continued, first tried to use gas, but the wind was against them. Then they tried to use sono-stunners, but the students rushed them and overwhelm them. If Your Majesty will permit a personal opinion, while I do not sympathize with their subsequent an attack on the administration center, they were entirely within their rights in defending themselves in the stadium, and it's hard enough to stop trained and disciplined troops when they are winning. After defeating the police they simply went on by what might be called the momentum of victory. Then you'd say that it's positively established, that the students were behaving in a peaceable

and orderly manner in the stadium when they were attacked, and that Chancellor Kane ordered the attack personally? I would emphatically, Your Majesty. I think we've done enough here, gentlemen. He turned to Count Tomson. This is jointly the affair of education and security. I would suggest that you and Prince Trevon join in a formal and public inquiry, and until all the facts have been established and recorded and action decided upon, the dismissal of Professor Foresse will be reversed, and he be restored to his position on the faculty. Yes, Your Majesty, Tompsohn agreed, and I think it would be a good idea for Chancellor Kane to take a vacation till then, too. I would further suggest that, as this microposito experiment is crucial to the whole question, it should be repeated, under the personal direction of Professor Foresse.

I agree with that, Your Majesty, Prince Trevon said. If it's as important as I think it is, Professor Dandrick is greatly to be censured in ordering it stopped, and for failing to report this anticipation effect. We'll consult about the inquiry, including the experiment tomorrow. Your Highness, Tompson told Trobon. Paul rose and everybody rose with him. That being the case, you gentlemen are all excused. The student's procession ought to be arriving now, and I want to tell them what's

going to be done. Prince Trevon, Count Tomson, do you care to accompany me?' Going up to the central terrace in front of the Octagon Tower, he turned to Count Tomon. "'I noticed you laughing at that remark of mine about Aditya,' he said. "'Have you met the first citizen?' "'Only on screen, sir.' He was at me for about an hour this morning. It seems that they are reforming the educational system on Aditya.

On Aditya, everything gets reformed every ten years, whether it deeds it or not. He came here to find somebody to take charge of the reformation. He stopped short, bringing the others to a halt beside him and laughed heartily. Well, we'll send First Citizen Yago away happy. We'll make him a present of the most distinguished educator on Odin. Kaine? Tom Sond asked. Cain! Isn't it wonderful?

If you have a few problems, you have trouble. But if you have a whole lot of problems, they start solving each other. We get a chance to get rid of Cain and create a vacancy that can be filled by somebody big enough to fill it. The Ministry of Education gets out from under a nasty situation. First Citizen Yago gets what he thinks he wants. And if I know Cain, and if I know the people's commonwealth of Aditya, it won't be a year before Yago has Cain shot or stuffs him into jail, and then the Space Navy will have an excuse to visit

Adidia, and Aditya'll never be the same afterward, Prince Trevon added. The students massed on the front lawns were still cheering as they went down after addressing them. The security guards were conspicuously absent, and it was a detail of red-cilted Thoron riflemen who met them as they entered the hall to the session chamber. Prince Gonze approached, attended by two household guard officers, a human and a thorn. Count Tom Sond looked from one to the other of his companions bewildered. The bewildering thing was that everything was as it should be.

Well, gentlemen, Paul said, I'm sure that both of you will want to confer for a moment with your colleagues in the rotunda before the session. Please don't feel obligated to attend me further. Prince Ganza approached as they went down the hall. "'Your Majesty, what is going on here?' he demanded querulously. "'Just who is in control of the palace? You are Prince Trevon. and where is his Imperial Highness, and where is General Dorfley? I sent Dorfley to join Prince Roderick's picnic party.

If you're upset about this, imagine what he might have done here. Prince Gonsay looked at him curiously for a moment. I thought I understood what was happening, he said. Now I—this business about the students, sir. How did it come out? Paul told him. They talked for a while, and then the Prime Minister looked at his watch and suggested that the session ought to be getting started.

Paul nodded, and they went down the hall into the rotunda. The big, semicircular lobby was empty now, except for a platoon of household guards, and the Empress sent her ladies-in-waiting. She advanced as quickly as her sheath gown would permit and took his arm. The ladies-in-waiting fell in behind her, and Prince Ganze went ahead, crying, "'My lords, your venerable highnesses, gentlemen, his imperial majesty!' Maris tightened her grip on his arm as they started forward. She hissed into his ear.

"'What is this silly story about Yarned Trouin trying to seize the throne?' "'Isn't it? Yorne's been too close to the throne for too long not to you. know what sort of a seat it is. He'd commit any crime up to and including genocide to keep off it." She gave a quick gip to get into step with him. Then why is he filled the palace with these black coats? Is Rod all right? Perfectly all right. He's somewhere out in the mountains, keeping Horv Dorfley out of mischief. They crossed the session hall and took their seats on the double throne. Everybody sat down, and the Prime Minister,

after some formalities, declared the plenary session in being. Almost at once one of the Prince Counselors was on his feet, begging his Majesty's leave to interrogate the government. I wish to ask His Highness the Minister of Security the meaning of all this unprecedented disturbance, both here in the palace and in the city, he said. Prince Trevon rose at once. "'Your Majesty,' in reply to the question of his venerable highness, he began,

and then launched himself into an account of the student riot, the march to petition the emperor, and the clash with the non-working-class hooligans. As to the affair with the university, I hesitate to speak on what is really the concern of his lordship the Minister of Education. But as to the fighting of the city, if it is still going on, I could assure his venerable highness that the gendarmes and security guards have it well in hand. The persons responsible are being rounded up, and, if the Minister of Justice concurs, an inquiry will be started tomorrow.

The Minister of Justice assured the Minister of Security that his ministry would be quite ready to cooperate in the inquiry. Count Tompson then got up and began talking about the riot at the university. "'What did happen, Paul?' Maris whispered. "'Chancellor Cain sacked a science professor for being too interested in science. The students didn't like it. I think Kane's successor will rectify that. Have a good time at the flower festivals?' She raised her fan to hide a grimace.

"'I made my schedule,' she said. "'Tomorrow I have fifty more booked.' Your Imperial Majesty, the counselor who had risen paused to make sure that he had the imperial attention before continuing. Inso much as this question also seems to involve a scientific experiment, I would suggest that the Ministry of Science and Technology is also interested, and since there is at present no minister holding that portfolio, I would suggest that the discussion be continued. after a minister has been elected.

The Minister of Health and Sanity jumped to his feet. Your Imperial Majesty, permit me to concur with the proposal of His Venerable Highness, and to extend it with the sub-proposal that the Ministry of Science and Technology be abolished, and its functions and personnel divided among the other ministries, specifically those of education and of economics. The Minister of Fine Arts was up before he was fully seated. Your Imperial Majesty, permit me to concur with the proposal of Count Guilfred, and to extend it further with the proposal that the Ministry of Defense, now also vacant,

be likewise abolished, and its functions and personnel added to the Ministry of Security under His Highness Prince Trevon. So that was it. Maris beside him said, Well! He had long ago discovered that she could pack more meaning into that monosyllable than the average counselor could into a half-hour speech. Prince Gonze was thunderstruck,

and from the bench of councillors six or eight voices were babbling loudly at once. Four ministers were on their feet clamoring, for recognition. Count Douglas of Economics was yelling the loudest, so he got it. Your Imperial Majesty, it would have been most unseemly in me to have spoken in favor of the proposal of Count Guilford, being an interested party, but I feel no such hesitation in concurring with the proposal of Baron Garret, the Minister of Fine Arts. Indeed, I consider it a most excellent proposal.

and I consider it the most diabolically dangerous proposal to be made in this hall in the last six centuries. Old Admiral Goklars shouted, This is a proposal to concentrate all the armed force of the empire in the hands of one man. Who can say what unscrupulous use might be made of such power? Are you intimating, Prince Counselor? But Prince Trevon is contemplating some tyrannical or subversive use of such power, Count Tompon of all people demanded. There was a concerted gasp at that.

About half the plenary session were absolutely sure that he was. Admiral Geklar backed quickly away from the question. Prince Trouon will not be the last Minister of Security, he said. What I was about to say, Your Majesty, is that as matter stand, security has a virtual monopoly unarmed power on this planet. When these disorders in the city, which Prince Trevon's men, are now bringing under control, broke out. There was.

I am informed an order sent out to bring regular army and planetary militia into Asgard. It will be hours before any of the former can arrive. and at least the day before the latter can even be mobilized. By the time any of them get here, there will be nothing for them to do. Is that not correct, Prince Gunze? The Prime Minister looked at him angrily, stung by the realization that somebody else had a personal intelligence service as good as his own, then swallowed his anger and assented. Furthermore, Count Duckelis continued,

The Ministry of Defense itself is an anachronism, which no doubt accounts for the condition in which we now find it. The Empire has no external enemies whatever. All our defense problems are problems of internal security. Let us, therefore, turn the facilities over to the ministry responsible for the tasks. The debate went on and on. He paid less and less attention to it, and it became increasingly obvious. that opposition to the proposition was dwindling.

Cries of, vote, vote, began to be heard from his supporters. Prince Gonze rose from his desk and came to the throne. Your imperial majesty, he said softly. I am opposed to this proposition, but I am convinced that enough favorite to pass it even over your majesty's veto. Before the vote is called, Does your majesty wish my resignation? He rose and stepped down beside the Prime Minister, putting an arm over Prince Gansay's shoulder.

Far from it, old friend, he said in a distinctly audible voice, "'I will have too much need for you, but as for this proposal, I don't oppose it. I think it an excellent one. It has my approval.' He lowered his voice. As soon as it's passed, placed General Dorfley's name in nomination. The Prime Minister looked at him sadly for a moment, then nodded, returning to his desk, where he rapped for order and called for the vote. "'Well, if you can't lick him, join him,' Maris said as he sat down beside her. "'And if they start chasing you, just yell, there he goes, follow me.'

The proposal carried almost unanimously. Prince Gansay then presented the name of Captain General Dorfley for elevation to the bench of counselors, and the emperor decreed it. As soon as the session was adjourned and he could do so, he slipped out the little door behind the throne into an elevator. In the room at the top of the Octagon Tower, he laid aside his belt and dressed dagger and unfastened his tunic, then sat down in his deep chair and called a serving robot. It was the one which had brought him his breakfast, and he greeted it as a friend. It lit a cigarette for him and poured a drink of brandy.

For a long time he sat smoking and sipping and looking out the wide window to the west, where the orange sun was firing the clouds behind the mountains, and he realized that he was abominably tired. Well, no wonder. More empire history had been made today than in the years since he had come to the throne. Then something behind him clicked. He turned his head to see Yorne Trevon emerging from the concealed elevator. He grinned and lifted his drink and greeting.

"'I thought you'd be a little late,' he said. Everybody trying to climb onto the bandwagon?' Yorne Trevon came forward, unbuckling his belt and laying it with Paul's. He sank into the chair opposite, and the robot poured him a drink. "'Well, do you blame them? What would it have looked like to you? in their place. A coup d'etat.

For that matter, wasn't that what it was? Why didn't you tell me you were springing it? I didn't spring it. It was sprung on me. I didn't know a thing about it till Max Douglas buttonholed me down by the landing stage. I'd intended fighting this proposal to partition science and technology, but this riot blew up and scared Douglas and Tompsohn and the rest of them.

They weren't too sure of their majority. That's why they had the election postponed a couple of times. But they were sure that the riot would turn some of the undecided counselors against them. So they offered to back me to take over defense in exchange for my supporting their proposal. It looked too good to pass up. Even at the price of wrecking science and technology? It was wrecked or left to rust into uselessness long ago. The main function of technology has been to suppress anything that might threaten the state of economic rigor mortis that Duckless calls stability,

and the function of science has been to let mutton heads like cane and dandrick dominate the teaching of science. Well, defense has its own scientific and technical sectors, and when we come to carving the bird, Doculus and Tom Sond are going to see a lot of slices going into my plate. And when it's all cut up, it will be discovered that there is no provision for original research. So it will please my majesty to institute an imperial office of scientific research, independent of any ministry, and guess who'll be named to head it. For us.

And by the way, we're all set on Kane, too. First Citizen Yago is as delighted to have him as we are to get rid of him. Why don't you get Vaughan Everett back and give him the job? Good, if he takes charge there at the opening of the next academic year. In ten years we'll have a thousand young men, maybe ten times that many, who won't be afraid of new things and new ideas. But the main thing is that now you have defense, and now the plan can really start firing all jets.

Yes! Yarned Trevon got out his cigarettes and lit one. Paul glanced at the robot, hoping that its feelings hadn't been hurt. All these native uprisings I've been blowing up out of intertribal knife fights, and all these civil wars my people have been manufacturing. There'll be more of them, and I'll start yelling my head off for an adequate space navy. And after we get it, these local troubles will all stop. And then what will we be expected to do?

Scrap the ships? They both knew what would be done with some of them. It would have to be done stealthily while nobody was looking, but some of those ships would go far beyond the boundaries of the empire, and new things would happen. New worlds, new problems, great and frightening changes. Paul, we agreed upon this long ago when we were still boys at the university. The empire stopped growing,

and when things stop growing, they start dying. The death of petrophaction. And when petrofaction is complete, the cracking and the crumbling starts, and there's no way of stopping it. But if we can get people out onto new planets, the empire won't die, it'll start growing again. You didn't start that thing at the university this morning yourself, did you? Not the student, right, no. But the hooligan attack, yes. That was some of my own men.

The real hooligans began looting after Hondurasan had gotten the students out of the district. We collared all of them, including their boss, Nutsche the knife right away, and as soon as we did that, Big Mugi and Ziko the nose tried to move in. We're cleaning them up now. By tomorrow morning there won't be one of these non-working voting blocks left in Asgard. And by the end of the week, they'll be cleaned up all over Odin. I have discovered a plot, and they're all involved in it. Wait a moment, Paul got to his feet.

That reminds me. Harvdorflays hiding Rod and Olva out in the mountains. I wanted him out of here while things were happening. I'll have to call him and tell him it's safe to come in now. Well, zip up your tunic and put your dagger on. You looked as though you'd been arrested, disarmed, and searched. That's right. He hastily repaired his appearance and went to the sergeant.

screen across the room, punching out the combination of the screen with Roderick's picnic party. A young lieutenant of the household troops appeared in it and had to be reassured. He got General Dorfley. "'Your Majesty! Are you all right?' "'Perfectly all right, General, and it's quite safe to bring his Imperial Highness in.

The conspiracy against the throne has been crushed. Oh, thank the gods! Is Prince Trevonne a prisoner?' Quite the contrary, General. It was our loyal and devoted subject, Prince Trevon, who crushed the conspiracy. But, but your majesty, you aren't to be blamed for suspecting him, General. His agents were working in the very innermost councils of the conspirators. Every one of the people whom you suspected, with excellent reason, was actually working to defeat the plot. Think back, General. The scheme to put the gun in the case.

in the viewscreen, the scheme to sabotage the elevator, the scheme to introduce assassins into the orchestra with guns built into their trumpets, everyone came to your notice because of what seemed to be some indiscretion of the plotters, didn't it? Why, why, yes, your majesty. By this time to-morrow he would have a complete set of memories for each one of them. You mean the indiscretions were deliberate? It? Your vigilance and loyalty made it necessary for them to resort to these fantastic expedients, and your vigilance defeated them as fast as they came to your notice. Well, today Prince Trevon and I struck back.

I may tell you, in confidence, that every one of the conspirators is dead, killed in this afternoon's rioting, which was incited for that purpose by Prince Trevon. Then there will be no more plots against your life? There was a note of regret in the old man's voice. No more, your venerable highness. But what did your majesty call me? he asked incredulously. I took the honor of being the first to address you by your new title, Prince, Councillor Dorfley. He left the old man, overcome, and blubbering happily on the shoulder of the crown prince,

who winked at his father out of the screen. Prince Trevon had gotten a couple of fresh drinks from the robot, and handed one to him when he returned to his chair. He'll be finding the bench of council is riddled with treason inside a week, Trevon said. You handle that just right, though. Another case of making problems solve each other. You were telling me about a plot you'd discovered?

Oh, yes. This is one to top Dorflai's best. efforts. All the voting-block bosses on Odin are in conspiracy to start a civil war to give them a chance to loot the planet. There isn't a word of truth in it, of course, but it'll do to arrest and hold them for a few days, and by that time some of my undercovers will be in control of every non-worker vote on the planet. After all, the cartels put an end to competition in every other business. Why not a voting cartel, too? Then, Whenever there's an election, we just advertise for bids.

Why, that would mean absolute control of the non-working vote, yes. And I'll guarantee, personally, that in five years the politics of Odin will have become so unbearably corrupt and abusive that the intellectuals, the technicians, the business people, even the nobility, will be flocking to the polls to vote. And if only half of them turn out, they'll snow the non-workers under. And that'll mean eventually an end to vote selling, and the non-workers will have to find work. We'll find it for them. Ha, ha.

Great and frightening changes, Yorne Trevon laughed. He recognized the phrase. Probably thought it himself. Paul lifted his glass. To the Minister of Disturbance. Your Majesty. They drank to each other, and then Yarned Trevon said, We had a lot of wild dreams when we were boys.

It looks as though we're starting to make some of them come true. You know, when we were in the university, the students would never have done what they did today. They didn't even do it ten years ago when Von Everard was dismissed. And Von Everard's pupil came back to Odin and touched this whole thing off. He thought for a moment. I wonder what Fores has in that anticipation effect. I think I can see what can come out of it.

If he can propagate a wave that behaves like those micropositoes, we may not have to depend on ships for communication. We may be able, someday, to screen Baldor and Vishnu or Altan or Thor, as easily as you screened doorfly up in the mountains. He thought silently for a moment. I don't know whether that would be good or bad. But it would be new, and that's what matters. That's the only thing that matters.

Flower festivals, Paul said, and when Yorne Trevon wanted to know what he meant, he told him. When Princess Olva's Empress, she's going to curse the name of Clen Fores. flower festivals all around the galaxy without end. End of Port 5. End of Ministry of Disturbance by H. Beam Piper.