Ministry of Disturbance | Page 7

a cut of the meat. That's good
sound law of the chase. I'm not in favor of it, myself. Prince Ganzay, at
this session, I wish you'd get Captain-General Dorflay nominated for
the Bench. I feel that it is about time to honor him with elevation."
"General Dorflay? But why, Your Majesty?"
"Great galaxy, do you have to ask? Why, 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 Nidhog 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 master mind behind all these
nightmares of his, and who do you think it is? Yorn Travann!"
* * * * *
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 Travann. If sharing them makes me a
lunatic, too, so be it, but share them I do."
Paul felt his eyebrows lift in surprise. "That's quite too much and too
little, Prince Ganzay," he said.
"With your permission, I'll elaborate. Don't think that I suspect Prince
Travann of any childish pranks with elevators or viewscreens 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 Security 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 contragravity, even
gun-cutters and bomb-and-rocket boats? And does Your Majesty know
that most of this armament is massed within fifteen minutes' flight-time
of this Palace? Or that Prince Travann 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
nonworkers through exposing them to military discipline. A good many
of them, I believe, have gone off-planet on their discharge from the SG
and hired as mercenaries, which is a far better profession than vote
selling."
"Quite a plausible explanation: Prince Travann 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
Ganzay continued:
"He has been doing some peculiar things as Police Chief of Asgard, too.
For instance, there are two powerful nonworkers' voting-bloc bosses,
Big Moogie Blisko and Zikko 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
Travann. On a number of occasions, their smaller rivals, leaders of less
important gangs, have been arrested, often on trumped-up charges, and
held incommunicado until either Moogie or Zikko could move into
their territories and annex their nonworker followers. These two
bloc-bosses are subsidized, respectively, by the Steel and Shipbuilding
Cartels and by the Reaction Products and Chemical Cartels, but
actually, they are controlled by Prince Travann. They, in turn, control
between them about seventy per cent of the nonworkers 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 Ganzay! You're talking like Dorflay!"

"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
Counselors would be the ones to name the Regent, but I know how they
would vote with Security Guard bayonets at their