Greenaugh nodded. “Still were when I was young Landry’s age. I served a hitch on an escort vessel convoying a provisions fleet. Silliest thing you ever saw. You ever think of how futile it is to try to ship food to a whole world that’s starving? If you took every ship in the Navy and merchant service and put them on it, even if the food was free and waiting in the same star system, it wouldn’t do any good. But the Emperor’s sister got interested in the place and they had to have a try at ‘helping’. Did no good at all. Population’s thinned out a bit now on Placentia, but the planet’ll never be the same.”

“So you see,” Soliman said softly, “it is important not to interfere. No matter what the reason. You can always say that things would have been worse if you did not interfere, but you can’t know.” He sipped his wine. “Besides, people will have adjusted to the evils they are accustomed to. Your attempts to help may introduce evils they don’t know, which are always worse to bear and will probably retard their natural development.”

“Thank you,” MacKinnie said. “We will be very careful. What else must I know?”

“Still determined,” Greenaugh said. “Thought you would be. Well, if I can’t persuade you to give it up, I can’t. Bring your crew here tomorrow for inspection. Midshipman Landry will tell you the rest of the details.” He strode to the door, then paused and turned back. “Just remember, MacKinnie, you were warned. The hell with it.” He went briskly out, followed by his midshipman.

MacKinnie started to speak to Dougal once they were in the cab and drawing away from Empire House, but Dougal motioned him to silence. They returned to the Royal Guest House, where Dougal invited MacKinnie to shower, insisting that he do so in a manner that told MacKinnie it was an order. When he finished, he found fresh clothing, the elaborate Trader’s kilt and doublet gone. Dougal joined him as he finished dressing, and MacKinnie noted that the policeman had changed as well.

“Sorry, Trader,” Dougal said, “but we have found by bitter experience that the Imperials have devices, so small you would hardly notice them, which in some manner allow them to hear over long distances. Our engineers did not believe it at first, but I tested the hypothesis by feeding them false information when we had reason to suspect. I proved it, and now my people have found one of the things. Not as big as the end of your thumb.”

MacKinnie whistled. “Was there one attached to our clothing?” he asked.

“No, not this time. But the cab stood outside Empire House while we were there. They had ample time to do as they liked.”

“Any idea of the range of those things?” MacKinnie asked.

“None. And as we do not know how they work, there is no guess. Some of our best physicists insist they have a theory how one might be built, now that they know it is possible, but they say any such device would have to be very large and use much power. Still, it is a start.” Deprived of a place to sit, the policeman locked his hands behind his back and paced the room nervously.

“By the way,” MacKinnie asked, “what will our churches really do if their New Roman Church decides to take over here? I notice King David’s bishops are thick as flies in Orleans.”

“Better ours than the outlanders’,” Dougal snapped. “And all the more reason for the success of your mission, MacKinnie. Perhaps they are not as severe on the Classified worlds.”

“Yeah.” Nathan stood against one wall, patiently watching Dougal stride back and forth. “But after that interview I don’t know any more about how to get those books — but they aren’t books, are they? That Navy kid, the night he babbled about it all, said they were spools, whatever that might be. That they could be made to print books, if we knew how to do it. Only we don’t know how, do we? We don’t really know much of anything.”

“Giving up?” Dougal asked.

“No, by God!” MacKinnie grinned. “And the sooner we start, the better chance we’ll have. It’s still a fool’s errand, but at least I can feel useful again, win or lose!”

Lieutenant Alphonse Pavlovnicek Jefferson was in love. It had happened very suddenly, but he had no doubts about it; he had all the signs he’d been led to expect from romantic novels. His previous affairs seemed laughable or disgusting in recollection; he had no desire at all to go tavern-crawling with his classmates; he wanted only to get back to Elaine. It had to be love.

He’d met her on the street when he’d lost his way and asked for directions. Of course he’d been glad for an opportunity to speak to a local girl; getting acquainted on Prince Samual’s World wasn’t as easy as it was on more civilized worlds. Since he was more lost than he’d thought, she had to draw a map, and it seemed natural to offer to buy her a coffee at a sidewalk restaurant that seemed so conveniently located that it made Jefferson believe the fates approved of his meeting Elaine. She said later she’d accepted because she had never talked with an Imperial before. Her parents didn’t encourage that.

Hours went by. He couldn’t remember anything significant they’d said. It was just talk, at the coffee house and then walking in the park and along the waterfront, a pleasant stroll on a pleasant afternoon, with nothing important said, but there it was: he wanted nothing more than to see her again, and she’d agreed. Of course he would have to call for her at her home, and meet her father, and ask his permission to see her. He’d been warned that local customs were very strict, and Captain Greenaugh had made it clear that any officer causing problems would be handed his head.

Jeff wasn’t exactly looking forward to the interview with Elaine’s father, but surely all would be well. Fate couldn’t play him such a trick as to let him find Elaine and then be forbidden to see her. Her father was a Haven civil servant, and the Empire was allied with Haven. He couldn’t openly dislike Imperial officers, and he might even welcome the opportunity to get to know one. Jeff told himself that several times.

For the moment, though, he had another appointment. High Commissioner Sir Alexei Dmitrivitch Ackoff was holding his weekly seminar on colonial government, and it was strongly suggested that all junior officers attend. Presumably there was a difference between a strong suggestion and an order; if Elaine hadn’t already been late getting home for dinner, this might have been the day Lieutenant Jefferson found out. However, she had insisted on going home, and even in his euphoric mood Jeff knew it wouldn’t be a good idea to test Ackoff’s patience.

He was very nearly late. The others had already gone into Ackoff’s spartan conference room. Jeff hurried inside and as he did the opposite door leading into the Commissioner’s office opened and the others stood respectfully.

Sir Alexei nodded and waved them to their seats around the big conference table as he took his place at its head. He was not a tall man, nor was he large; from his looks no one would have guessed that he was the most powerful man on Prince Samual’s World, the only man there who could give orders to the Navy and make them stick. He did have an air of importance, of speaking in a tone that indicated he expected to be obeyed, but even that wasn’t permanent; he was, after all, a diplomat, skilled in persuasion. This was his first assignment as top authority on a planet, but he’d been deputy commissioner twice before, and was said to be highly competent.

Jeff’s father knew Ackoff slightly, and in his last letter to Jeff had mentioned the Commissioner as an excellent example of the best — and worst — of the Imperial Civil

Service. “Give him a policy, and he’ll enforce it. Even have sense enough to grant exceptions. But you have to give him a policy. He’s not likely to come up with one on his own.” The dry voice went on to suggest that Jeff erase that portion of the letter, lest Sir Alexei find it. “Your brother will inherit the family title, my lad,” his father’s image had said with a wink. “And you’ll need friends like Sir Alexei if you intend to found your own branch of the family. You might even think about staying on Prince Samual’s World. Not a bad place from what I hear, and they’ll want colonists. Shouldn’t be surprised if you managed a barony out of it. So it’s worth keeping Sir Alexei happy. Besides, he’s not a bad sort if you deal with him on his own terms.”