Interstellar Patrol by Christopher Anvil

At the other end of the table, Glinderen was beginning to show an impatient urge to speak.

Roberts deliberately laid his fusion gun on the table, the muzzle pointed at Glinderen.

The planetary administrator stopped fidgeting.

Roberts said to Kelty, “Release the Baron. Have him brought up here, with all the respect due his rank and duty.”

“I don’t know if the computer will cooperate.”

“The computer will cooperate—or cease to exist.”

Kelty got up, and left the room.

Roberts looked at Glinderen. “What was Mr. Peen’s business here?”

“He was a . . . commercial representative for Krojac Enterprises.”

“Why was he here?”

“To arrange for an emergency repair and salvage facility here. A new colonization route is being established. This will mean a sizable flow of traffic past this solar system. Krojac Enterprises is contractor for a rest-and-refit center farther along the route, and naturally they want to increase their business. The traffic past here should be sufficiently large that a repair-and-salvage facility would serve a useful purpose, and be profitable.”

Roberts sat back. Suddenly the reason for the gathering of commerce raiders was clear. The looting of a colonization convoy offered enormous profits in captured ships.

He said, “Do these colonization routes of yours suffer from the attacks of brigands?”

Glinderen nodded. “Occasionally. These are usually very brutal affairs. Why do you—” He paused, looking at the fusion gun.

Roberts said easily, “This explains why your Space Force should set up a watch in the asteroid belt of this sun. It is a convenient place to protect against such attacks.”

Glinderen’s face cleared. “Yes,” he said.

Just then, the door opened, and Kelty came in. “The computer has released him. He’s on the way up.”

“Good.” Roberts glanced back at Glinderen. “Now, Mr. Glinderen, I am curious to know how you could seek to wrest a world of mine from my grip without fear of what would follow. I also wonder at your effort to name me as someone other than Vaughan of Trasimere. I want a short clear rendering, and it had best be courteous.”

Glinderen’s face took on the look of one asked, in all seriousness, why he thinks planets are curved and not flat.

“Well—” said Glinderen, his voice betraying his emotions, and then he glanced at the gun lying on the table. He started over again, in the voice of one humoring a dangerous lunatic: “Your . . . er . . . Grace may be aware—”

Hammell said, with a flat note in his voice, “None of lesser rank and station may so address His Royal and Imperial Highness. From you, though you intend it not, this is a familiarity.”

Morrissey added, less graciously, “A complete foreigner, unfamiliar with the proper code, had best avoid such bungling meticulosity—lest he put his foot in the wrong place and be dead before he know it.”

Roberts said courteously, “There is no need, Mr. Glinderen, to try to speak as one who belongs to the Empire. Just answer the question in plain words.”

Glinderen was now perspiring freely. “Yes,” he said. “First, I never heard of this Empire before. Second, there was an . . . an incredible reference to a certain ‘Oggbad the Wizard.’ Third, you and your men invariably appeared in battle armor of a type that offers little view of the face; this was an obvious . . . a . . . ah . . . apparent attempt at disguise. Fourth, only two of your ships ever appear at close range. That suggests that there are no more. Fifth, Vaughan N. Roberts and a number of companions were on this planet some time ago, and the records show that very strange things happened at that time also.

“It seemed to me that the conclusion was perfectly clear. To disprove it, you have only to remove your armor, one at a time if you wish, and show that your appearance is not that of the people who were on this planet before, and who were known to Mr. Kelty and others here. Also, if you will bring in, to close range, some more ships of your . . . ah . . . Imperial Fleet—it might do a good deal to convince me. That such an Empire should exist, and be unknown, seems to me frankly incredible.”

Glinderen snapped his jaw shut and sat silent, trembling slightly. Roberts studied him, well aware that Glinderen had, in a few well-chosen words, exposed the whole masquerade. Kelty and the red-bearded technician were glancing at Roberts, as if to try to read his concealed facial expression. At the door, the Great Leader, the fanatic known as the Baron of the Outer City, stood listening attentively. If these people should be persuaded by Glinderen, Roberts’ only support would be the patrol ship’s weapons.

To Roberts’ right, Morrissey shoved his chair back. “This fellow hath a tongue that—”

Roberts put his hand on Morrissey’s arm. “It is true he is frank-spoken, but it is at my request.”

Morrissey settled reluctantly into his seat. Roberts looked at Glinderen. “First, you say you never heard of the Empire. Space is large, Mr. Glinderen. The Empire knows of the outspace worlds, if the outspace worlds know not of it. This planet is out of our way. We would never have come here save for an attempt on the part of Oggbad to seize the throne by intrigue and the use of his magical powers. That you know not of such things is proof of your ignorance, nothing more. Possibly you suppose that Oggbad is a harmless fellow, who with vacant mind recites some empty formula, traces a wandering sign in the air, and with palsied hand shakes a wand the while he gibbers his insanity at the yawning moon. If so, you judge not by the thing itself, but by your image of the thing. You hear the echo of a distant explosion, and smile that people feared it where it tore the earth open. You charge us that we do not expose our persons and faces, and yet Oggbad with all his powers is on this world! What would you have us do, hand ourselves over to him bound and gagged?

“You say that only two of our ships have appeared at close range, and it would perhaps convince you if there were more of them here. I have but to give the word, and this planet is ringed with them. But to bring them to the surface of this world were a source of grave danger. How, then, could we know that Oggbad, using arts that are the none less real for your disbelief, had not escaped aboard one of these ships? With Oggbad, one must keep a firm grip, lest a seeming illusion turn out real, and what was thought reality dissolve into mist. Next, you say a man with a name like mine passed this way before, and strange things took place. That this should convince you is not odd. My wonderment is greater yet, as I see here the design of Oggbad, forehanded to prepare a trap for the future, if it be needed.

“What you know not, Mr. Glinderen, is that at this time, the mere rumor of the escape of Oggbad would work great evil in the Empire. At this moment, the Electors are met in solemn conclave to weigh the might and worth of the contestants to the throne. None of the contestants may remain on hand, lest by threat or subtle blandishments they seek to weight the scales of judgment. All are retired from the lists, some to prepare their minds for the outcome, others to repair the neglect of their domains occasioned by the struggle for primacy. Just so am I here. But if word were now given that Oggbad were loose, no one knew just where, who could trust the deliberations of the Electors? Who would accept their decision, and who claim that the influence of Oggbad had weighed invisibly in the balance? The trouble we have had from this sorcerer beggars a man’s powers of recollection. To risk that he be let loose on us again is too much. Only after the Electors’ choice is made dare we think to risk it. His power for mischief shrinks once the choice is made. Then the Empire draws together, no longer split, but one solid whole.”

Roberts paused, noting that Kelty, the redbearded technician, and even the fanatical leader of the Outer City, were all nodding with the satisfied expressions of those who hear their leader successfully defeat an attack that threatens them as well as him.

What surprised Roberts was the wavering expression on the face of Glinderen.

“Yes,” said Glinderen, wonderingly, “this certainly does answer many of my objections. However—”

Roberts spoke very gently, “Remember, Mr. Glinderen, I am not on trial here. Have a care. Where I have explained to you, many would have said, ‘The actions of this outspace dog, and the wreck he has made, offend me. Dismember the fool.'”

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