The Best of Bova: Volume 1 by Ben Bova

one-third normal, and forbade him from leaving these areas, except for the rare occasions of state when he was needed in the Great Assembly Hall or another public area. He acquiesced in this: the lighter gravity felt better and allowed him to be on his feet once again, free of the power chair’s clutches.
    This day he was walking slowly, calmly, through a green forest of Earth. He strolled along a parklike path, admiring the lofty maples and birches, listening to the birds and small forest animals’ songs of life. He inhaled scents of pine and grass and sweet clean air. He felt the warm sun on his face and the faintest cool breeze. For a moment he considered how the trees would look in their autumnal reds and golds. But he shook his head.
    No. There is enough autumn in my life. I’d rather be in springtime.
    In the rooms next to the corridor he walked through, tense knots of technicians worked at the holographic systems that produced the illusion of the forest, while other groups of white-suited meditechs studied the readouts from the Emperor’s implants.
    Two men joined the Emperor on the forest path: Academician Bomeer, head of the Imperial Academy of Sciences, and Supreme Commander Fain, chief of staffof the Imperial Military Forces. Both were old friends and advisors, close enough to the Emperor to be housed within the palace itself when they were allowed to visit their master.
    Bomeer looked young, almost sprightly, in a stylish robe of green and tan. He was slightly built, had a lean, almost ascetic face that was spoiled by a large mop of unruly brown hair.
    Commander Fain was iron gray, square-faced, a perfect picture of a military leader. His black and silver uniform fit his muscular frame like a second skin. His gray eyes seemed eternally troubled.
    The Emperor greeted them and allowed Bomeer to spend a few minutes admiring the forest simulation. The scientist called out the correct names for each type of tree they walked past and identified several species of birds and squirrel. Finally the Emperor asked him about the young woman who had arrived on the Imperial Planet the previous month.
    “I have discussed her plan thoroughly with her,” Bomeer said, his face going serious. “I must say that she is dedicated, energetic, close to brilliant. But rather naive and overly sanguine about her own ideas.”
    “Could her plan work?” asked the Emperor.
    “Could it work?” the scientist echoed. He had tenaciously held onto his post at the top of the scientific hierarchy for nearly a century. His body had been rejuvenated more than once, the Emperor knew. But not his mind.
    “Sire, there is no way to tell if it could work! Such an operation has never been done before. There are no valid data. Mathematics, yes. But even so, there is no more than theory. And the costs! The time it would take! The technical manpower! Staggering.”
    The Emperor stopped walking. Fifty meters away, behind the hologram screens, a dozen meditechs suddenly hunched over their readout screens intently.
    But the Emperor had stopped merely to repeat to Bomeer, “Could her plan work?”
    Bomeer ran a hand through his boyish mop, glanced at Commander Fain for support and found none, then faced his Emperor again. “I . . . there is no firm answer, Sire. Statistically, I would say that the chances are vanishingly small.”
    “Statistics!” The Emperor made a disgusted gesture. “A refuge for scoundrels and sociotechs. Is there anything scientifically impossible in what she proposes?”
    “Nnn . . . not theoretically impossible, Sire,” Bomeer said slowly. “But in the practical world of reality it . . . it is the magnitude of the project. The costs. Why, it would take half of Commander Fain’s fleet to transport the equipment and material.”
    Fain seized his opportunity to speak. “And the Imperial Fleet, Sire, is spread much too thin for safety as it is.”
    “We are at peace, Commander,” said the Emperor.
    “For how long, Sire?