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

knowledge and arts and sciences? The Empire. Gentlemen. We are the mind of the Hundred Worlds, their memory, the yardstick against which they can measure their own humanity. We are their friend, their father, their teacher and helper.”
    The Emperor searched the black starry void for the tiny yellowish speck of Earth’s Sun, while saying:
    “But if the Hundred Worlds decide that the Empire is no longer their friend, if they want to leave their father, if they feel that their teacher and helper has become an oppressor . . . what then happens to the human race? It will shatter into a hundred fragments, and all the civilization that we have built and nurtured and protected over all these centuries will be destroyed.”
    Bomeer’s whispered voice floated through the darkness. “They would never . . .”
    “Yes. They would never turn against the Empire because they know that they have more to gain by remaining with us than by leaving us.”
    “But the frontier worlds,” Fain said.
    “The frontier worlds are restless, as frontier communities always are. If we use military might to force them to bow to our will, then other worlds will begin to wonder where their own best interests lie.”
    “But they could never hope to fight against the Empire!”
    The Emperor snapped his fingers and instantly the three of them were standing again in the forest at sunset.
    “They could never hope to win against the Empire,” the Emperor corrected. “But they could destroy the Empire and themselves. I have played out the scenarios with the computers. Widespread rebellion is possible, once the majority of the Hundred Worlds becomes convinced that the Empire is interfering with their freedoms.”
    “But the rebels could never win,” the Commander said. “I have run the same wargames myself, many times.”
    “Civil war,” said the Emperor. “Who wins a civil war? And once we begin to slaughter ourselves, what will your aliens do, my dear Fain? Eh?”
    His two advisors fell silent. The forest simulation was now deep in twilight shadow. The three men began to walk back along the path, which was softly illuminated by bioluminescent flowers.
    Bomeer clasped his hands behind his back as he walked. “Now that I have seen some of your other problems, Sire, I must take a stronger stand and insist—yes, Sire, insist— that this young woman’s plan to save the Earth is even more foolhardy than I had at first thought it to be. The cost is too high, and the chance of success is much too slim. The frontier worlds would react violently against such an extravagance. And,” with a nod to Fain, “it would hamstring the Fleet.”
    For several moments the Emperor walked down the simulated forest path without saying a word. Then, slowly, “I suppose you are right. It is an old man’s sentimental dream.”
    “I’m afraid that’s the truth of it, Sire,” said Fain.
    Bomeer nodded sagaciously.
    “I will tell her. She will be disappointed. Bitterly.”
    Bomeer gasped. “She’s here?”
    The Emperor said, “Yes, I had her brought here to the palace. She has crossed the Empire, given up more than two years of her life to make the trip, lost a dozen years of her career over this wild scheme of hers . . . just to hear that I will refuse her.”
    “In the palace?” Fain echoed. “Sire, you’re not going to see her in person? The security . . .”
    “Yes, in person. I owe her that much.” The Emperor could see the shock on their faces. Bomeer, who had never stood in the same building with the Emperor until he had become Chairman of the Academy, was trying to suppress his fury with poor success. Fain, sworn to guard the Emperor as well as the Empire, looked worried.
    “But Sire,” the Commander said, “no one has personally seen the Emperor, privately, outside of his family and closest advisors,” Bomeer bristled visibly, “in years . . . decades!”
    The Emperor nodded but insisted, “She is going to see me. I owe her that much. An