report. This business on Amaterasu. What sort
of a planet is it, politically? I don't seem to recall."
"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 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, of fraud in the election of the middle house of the legislature.
Each is supported by the judiciary he controls. Practically every citizen
belongs either to the militia or the police auxiliaries. I am looking
forward to further reports from Amaterasu," he added dryly.
"I daresay they'll be interesting. Send them to me in full, and red-star
them, if you please, Prince Travann."
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. Dandrik, 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--16.067543333--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 Uller, from the Sixth Century
Atomic Era, when the door screen buzzed and flashed.
* * * * *
He lit it, and his son Rodrik appeared in it, with Snooks, the little red
hound, squirming 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 deskside 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. Olva's going along."
And his tutor, and his esquire, and Olva's companion-lady, and a dozen
Thoran riflemen, of course, and they'd 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 galactiography," Rodrik told him. "And
Professor Guilsan's going to give me and Olva our 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 Rodrik had
something else on his mind. 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 Olva, is it?"
Rod was fourteen; the little Princess Olva 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 Olva's sister and a couple others of
mother's ladies-in-waiting were to a psi-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 psi-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 were
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
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