not so well bred. `Sir’ will do very nicely. I take pleasure in presenting you both to Mrs. Stanley . . . and to our
daughter, Edna.”
Introductions made, Edna Stanley went around with her tray, serving Jules last. As she handed him his glass of
lemonade her dark, grey eyes, usually distant, were soft and warm. “It’s a damned dirty stinking shame,” she said,
feelingly, “that we can’t give you two, the two who saved our lives, at least a Grand Imperial Court channelled to
every planet in space. And to cap it off we have to give that stuffed shirt Armsbold all the credit. The fathead! And
he’ll get another medal, I suppose-and compared to you two he positively could not detect a smell on a skunk!”
“Well-” Jules began, but the princess rushed on.
“Oh, I know that’s the way it has to be, Jules, and I know why. And I know exactly how you feel about it. The Service
of the Empire. The fine tradition of the finest group of men and women who ever lived. But knowing all that doesn’t
make it taste any better or go down any easier that all we can do is thank you for saving all three of our lives at such
tremendous risk of your own, and that we have to do even that on the sneak-or cost you yours.”
She threw her arms around Jules’ neck and kissed him warmly. And, while he could not bring himself to the point of
kissing the Crown Princess of the Empire as though she were an ordinary girl, his response was adequate.
Edna Stanley was not the crying type, but her eyes brimming as she drew her head back, looked straight into Jules’
eyes and went on, “But we three will remember it as long as we live; and you two will have a very special place in
my heart as long as I live.”
Without giving Jules a chance to say anything-which was just as well, since he could not possibly have said a
word-she wriggled free and embraced Yvette. “What did you expect. Yvette? And call me Edna; we’re about the
same age.”
“I’d love to, Edna, it warms me clear through. What I expected was a pat on the back from the Head there and
another tough job.”
The Head laughed. “You’ll get both, my dear.” Then, turning to Stanley, “You see, Bill?”
“I see, Zan. D’Alemberts. Metal of proof. Wrought and tempered.” Stanley turned to Jules and Yvette. “You young
people don’t realize that your lives are more important to the Empire than mine is.”
“I not only don’t realize it, sir,” Jules said, doggedly, “but I don’t see how it can possibly be true. You are the third
and the greatest of the Great Stanleys. Eve and I are just two d’Alemberts out of over a thousand.”
“Correction, please. As of now you are, and probably for the next two or three years will continue to be the two
most capable human beings alive.” Stanley replenished his drink and brought Yvette a small pitcher of fresh orange
juice, while Edna waited on the others. “Let’s examine this ‘Great Stanley’ business a little; it will be a good way to
get better acquainted. I’ve studied the House of Stanley quite thoroughly; enough to have developed what is-to me,
at least-a new theory. Has it ever occurred to you to wonder why the three so-called Great Stanleys happened to be
the three who reigned longest? Empress Stanley Three, thirty-seven years; Emperor Stanley Six, thirtysix years;
and I, who have more than either, and will probably-thanks to you-reign two more before reaching the age of
seventy and abdicating in favor of Edna here?” “N-o-o-o, sir. I can’t say that I have.”
“It’s a highly pertinent fact. You know, I’m sure, that only one Stanley so far has died in bed.”
“Yes, sir, but. . . .”
“And one died in a space accident. The other seven were assassinated, usually by their own sons or daughters or
brothers or sisters.”
“Yes, sir. I know that.”
“They had too many children, too young. So Irene and I had only one child, and Edna wasn’t born until I was forty-
five years old. So as soon as she’s able to carry the load we’ll hand it to her on a platter and step out.”
“Dad!” the Crown Princess exclaimed. “You know very well I’d never even think of such a thing!” And: “William!”
the Empress protested. “What a nasty thing to say!”
The Emperor grinned. “If you’ll analyze what I actually said you’ll see that you read that wicked thought of regicide
and patricide into it-and you’ll know why. Anyway, Irene, you helped plan it. And it’s worked out beautifully for all
of us. You’ve all heard the old wheeze that “Power corrupts; absolute power corrupts absolutely?”‘
They all had.
“My theory is that only the first part of that old saying is really true. For, as a matter of fact, no human being ever
had absolute power until King Stanley the Sixth crowned himself Emperor Stanley One and took it. He had the
whole galaxy. Every other despot in history was always reaching for more; so the truth of that old saying was never
tested.
“Indeed, there is much in preStanley history that argues against its truth. The worst gangsters and the most
rapacious capitalists Earth ever knew, when they got old enough and powerful enough and rich enough, turned from
crime and rapacity to something that was for the good of all mankind. And the entire history of the House of
Stanley bears this out.”
There was a short silence, then the Empress said, thoughtfully, “Well, it’s something to think about, at least . . . and
it does seem to make sense . . . but my dear, what has all that to do with the present case?”
“Everything,” Stanley said, deadly serious now. “It shows why these two d’Alemberts-highly trained, uniquely gifted,
innately and- completely loyal to the Empire-are much more important to the Empire than I am. Not that they are
indispensable. No one is. But they are at present irreplaceable and I am not. Any Stanley who is able to live long
enough becomes a Great Stanley by sheer force of circumstance, and Edna will be one from the day she is
crowned.”
The Emperor turned to face Jules and Yvette. “Nevertheless, my young friends, my life is extremely important to
me. It is also extremely important to Irene and to Edna, as are their lives to me. Our three lives are important to a
few real friends, such as Zander there and your father the Duke; but you would be surprised to know just how
scarce such real friends are. The life of any individual Emperor or Empress, however, is of very little importance
to the Empire itself, of which its rulers are merely the symbols. The Empire endures only because of the loyalty to
it of such people as you. Such loyalty can not be commanded;
it must be earned. The Empire will endure as long as, and only as long as, it continues to be worthy of such loyalty.
Without that loyalty the Empire would fall. Instead of prosperity and peace there would be widespread and terribly
destructive wars of planetary conquest. Our present civilization would degenerate into barbarism and savagery.
“We Stanleys do what we can; but in the last analysis the Empire rests squarely upon the arch of its various
services, and your Service of the Empire is the very keystone of that arch.
“As Edna said, it is a shame that we three can give you only our thanks. It is not, however the thanks of only three
people, I am speaking for the Empire when I say to you and through you to those who work with you. . . … Emperor
Stanley Ten took the d’Alemberts’ right hands, one in each of his own:
“Thanks.”
AFTERWORD
The Epic of Space
How do I write a space story? The question is simple and straightforward enough. The answer, however, is not;
since it involves many factors.
What do I, as a reader, like to read? Campbell, de Camp, Heinlein, Leinster, Lovecraft, Merritt, Moore, Starzl,
Taine, van Vogt, Weinbaum, Williamson-all of these rate high in my book. Each has written more than one
tremendous story. They cover the field of fantastic fiction, from pure weird to pure science fiction. While very
different, each from all the others, they have many things in common, two of which are of interest here. First, they
all put themselves into their work. John Kenton is Abraham Merritt; Jirel of Joiry is Catherine Moore. Second,
each writes-or wrote -between the lines, so that one reading is not enough to discover what is really there. Two are
necessary-three and four are often-times highly rewarding. Indeed, there are certain stories which I still re-read,
every year or so, with undiminished pleasure.