The Best of Bova: Volume 1 by Ben Bova Page A

The frontier worlds grow more restless every day. And the aliens beyond our borders—”
    “Are weaker than we are. I have reviewed the intelligence assessments, Commander.”
    “Sire, the relevant factor in those reports is that the aliens are growing stronger and we are not.”
    With a nod, the Emperor resumed walking. The scientist and the commander followed him, arguing their points unceasingly.
    Finally they reached the end of the long corridor, where the holographic simulation showed them Earth’s Sun setting beyond the edge of an ocean, turning the restless sea into an impossible glitter of opalescence.
    “Your recommendations, then, gentlemen?” he asked wearily. Even in the one-third gravity his legs felt tired, his back ached.
    Bomeer spoke first, his voice hard and sure. “This naive dream of saving the Earth’s Sun is doomed to fail. The plan must be rejected.”
    Fain added, “The Fleet can detach enough squadrons from its noncombat units to initiate the evacuation of Earth whenever you order it, Sire.”
    “Evacuate them to an unsettled planet?” the Emperor asked.
    “Or resettle them on the existing frontier worlds. The Earth residents are rather frontier-like themselves; they have purposely been kept primitive. They would get along well with some of the frontier populations. They might even serve to calm down some of the unrest on the frontier worlds.”
    The Emperor looked at Fain and almost smiled. “Or they might fan that unrest into outright rebellion. They are a cantankerous lot, you know.”
    “We can deal with rebellion,” said Fain.
    “Can you?” the Emperor asked. “You can kill people, of course. You can level cities and even render whole planets uninhabitable. But does that end it? Or do the neighboring worlds become fearful and turn against us?”
    Fain stood as unmoved as a statue. His lips barely parted as he asked. “Sire, if I may speak frankly?”
    “Certainly, Commander.”
    Like a soldier standing at attention as he delivers an unpleasant report to his superior officer, Fain drew himself up and monotoned, “Sire, the main reason for unrest among the frontier worlds is the lack of Imperial firmness in dealing with them. In my opinion, a strong hand is desperately needed. The neighboring worlds will respect their Emperor if—and only if—he acts decisively. The people value strength, Sire, not meekness.”
    The Emperor reached out and put a hand on the Commander’s shoulder. Fain was still iron-hard under his uniform.
    “You have sworn an oath to protect and defend this Realm,” the Emperor said. “If necessary, to die for it.”
    “And to protect and defend you, Sire.” The man stood straighter and firmer than the trees around them.
    “But this Empire, my dear Commander, is more than blood and steel, It is more than any one man. It is an idea.”
    Fain looked back at him steadily, but with no real understanding in his eyes. Bomeer stood uncertainly off to one side.
    Impatiently, the Emperor turned his face toward the ceiling hologram and called, “Map!”
    Instantly the forest scene disappeared and they were in limitless space. Stars glowed around them, overhead, on all sides, underfoot. The pale gleam of the galaxy’s spiral arms wafted off and away into unutterable distance.
    Bomeer’s knees buckled. Even the Commander’s rigid self-discipline was shaken.
    The Emperor smiled. He was accustomed to walking godlike on the face of the Deep.
    “This is the Empire, gentlemen,” he lectured in the darkness. “A handful of stars, a pitiful scattering of worlds set apart by distances that take years to traverse. All populated by human beings, the descendants of Earth.”
    He could hear Bomeer breathing heavily. Fain was a ramrod outline against the glow of the Milky Way, but his hands were outstretched, as if seeking balance.
    “What links these scattered dust motes? What preserves their ancient heritage, guards their civilization, protects their hard-won