Foundation and Empire - Isaac Asimov [6]
He said sarcastically, “I trust the gentleman who last spoke is speaking through habit only. We can afford to remember here that we are the government.”
There was a murmur of agreement.
The fourth man’s little eyes were on the table. “Then let us leave government policy alone. This young man . . . this stranger might have been a possible customer. There have been cases. All three of you tried to butter him into an advance contract. We have an agreement—a gentleman’s agreement—against it, but you tried.”
“So did you,” growled the second man.
“I know it,” said the fourth, calmly.
“Then let’s forget what we should have done earlier,” interrupted Forell impatiently, “and continue with what we should do now. In any case, what if we had imprisoned him, or killed him, what then? We are not certain of his intentions even yet, and at the worst, we could not destroy an Empire by snipping short one man’s life. There might be navies upon navies waiting just the other side of his non-return.”
“Exactly,” approved the fourth man. “Now what did you get out of your captured ship? I’m too old for all this talking.”
“It can be told in few enough words,” said Forell, grimly. “He’s an Imperial general or whatever rank corresponds to that over there. He’s a young man who has proved his military brilliance—so I am told—and who is the idol of his men. Quite a romantic career. The stories they tell of him are no doubt half lies, but even so it makes him out to be a type of wonder man.”
“Who are the ‘they’?” demanded the second man.
“The crew of the captured ship. Look, I have all their statements recorded on micro-film, which I have in a secure place. Later on, if you wish, you can see them. You can talk to the men yourselves, if you think it necessary. I’ve told you the essentials.”
“How did you get it out of them? How do you know they’re telling the truth?”
Forell frowned. “I wasn’t gentle, good sir. I knocked them about, drugged them crazy, and used the Probe unmercifully. They talked. You can believe them.”
“In the old days,” said the third man, with sudden irrelevance, “they would have used pure psychology. Painless, you know, but very sure. No chance of deceit.”
“Well, there is a good deal they had in the old days,” said Forell, dryly. “These are the new days.”
“But,” said the fourth man, “what did he want here, this general, this romantic wonder man?” There was a dogged, weary persistence about him.
Forell glanced at him sharply. “You think he confides the details of state policy to his crew? They didn’t know. There was nothing to get out of them in that respect, and I tried, Galaxy knows.”
“Which leaves us—”
“To draw our own conclusions, obviously.” Forell’s fingers were tapping quietly again. “The young man is a military leader of the Empire, yet he played the pretense of being a minor princeling of some scattered stars in an odd corner of the Periphery. That alone would assure us that his real motives are such as it would not benefit him to have us know. Combine the nature of his profession with the fact that the Empire has already subsidized one attack upon us in my father’s time, and the possibilities become ominous. That first attack failed. I doubt that the Empire owes us love for that.”
“There is nothing in your findings,” questioned the fourth man guardedly, “that makes for certainty? You are withholding nothing?”
Forell answered levelly, “I can’t withhold anything. From here on there can be no question of business rivalry. Unity is forced upon us.”
“Patriotism?” There was a sneer in the third man’s thin voice.
“Patriotism be damned,” said Forell quietly. “Do you think I give two puffs of nuclear emanation for the future Second Empire? Do you think I’d risk a single Trade mission to smooth its path? But—do you suppose Imperial conquest will help my business or yours? If the Empire wins, there will be a sufficient number of yearning carrion crows to crave