“Yes, my lord,” a flat voice said. Before he turned to look, MacKinnie knew it was Inspector Solon. The voice fit him perfectly, cold and toneless, like a voice from a tomb.

“Bring that book, Inspector,” Dougal said quietly.

“Yes, my lord.” The door did not close, and seconds later Solon crossed the room carrying a sheaf of papers held by a strange clasp.

“Thank you.” Dougal dismissed Solon with a wave and pointed to the papers. “This is the only Imperial artifact we have been able to obtain. It appears to be some kind of work of fiction, about the adventures of a naval officer on a newly settled planet. But it also gives us much information about the structure of the Imperial government, just as one of Cadace’s best-sellers would tell them a lot about the government of Haven even though there’s not a line in it intended to do so. Do you understand?”

MacKinnie nodded.

“Then,” the policeman continued, “understand this. The Empire has several kinds of planetary governments within it. There is Earth itself, which is the honorary capital, but is mostly uninhabitable because of the aftermath of the Seccession Wars. For their own reasons they keep some institutions including their naval and military academies there, but the real capital is called Sparta, and is in another planetary system entirely. After the capitals there are what they call Member Kingdoms, which are planetary governments strong enough to give the Imperial Navy a good fight if the Empire tried to interfere with their internal affairs.”

“All monarchies?” Nathan asked.

“There is at least one republic. Many are monarchies.” Dougal sipped at his chickeest. “Then there are Class One and Class Two worlds. We can’t tell the difference between them, but they have less authority over their own affairs than the Member Kingdoms. They do have representation on the capital in one house of a multi-house advisory council, and some of their people are officers in the Imperial services. The two classes refer to some differences in technology which we do not understand, but the relevant factors are the technology levels when admission to the Empire takes place. They both seem to have something called atomic power which fascinates the physicists at the University, and their own spaceships.”

MacKinnie nodded, recalling some remarks made by the drunken lieutenant in the Blue Bottle. He mentioned this to Dougal, who nodded.

“Good,” Dougal said. “You are here because you overhead him. You see, Colonel, after the Class One and Class Two worlds, there’s nothing left but colonies. And that’s what we’ll be.”

“What’s the status of colonies?” MacKinnie asked.

“They have none. Imperial citizens are imported as an aristocracy to impart civilization. A viceroy governs in the Emperor’s name, and the Navy keeps a garrison to see that no trouble develops. The colonists end in complete control of everything, and the locals do as they’re told or else.”

“How can they govern a whole planet against everybody’s will? What good does it do them to burn half the world to ashes like Lechfeld?” MacKinnie drank the last of his now cooled chickeest, then answered his own question. “But of course they don’t have to fight their own battles, do they? There’s always a local government ready to toady to the Imperials. Someone to do their dirty work for them.” He looked significantly at Dougal.

Malcolm Dougal pretended not to notice. “Yes. There is always one. If not King David, then one of the Southie despots. But it won’t happen, MacKinnie. I’ve found a way to win this fight and get Class Two status for Samual. I’ve found a way, a chance, but I can’t do it alone. I need your help.” Dougal leaned across the desk looking intently at Nathan MacKinnie.

Colonel MacKinnie stood, slowly, stretching to his full height before lifting the copper pitcher and pouring another mug of chickeest. Still moving very carefully, he strode to the couch, examined Stark for a moment, then returned to his chair. “Have you a pipe and ’robac, my lord?” he asked. “This promises to be quite a night. … Why me?”

“I hadn’t intended it to be you until tonight. I had no real plan before, merely studied a series of actions I might be able to take, made preparations for an opportunity, any opportunity, but now that young fool has told us how to save the state. You heard him, of course.”

“If I did, I didn’t understand. What are you going to do?”

“But you must have heard him. You were there when he babbled about the Old Empire library on a planet at the Eye of the Needle.”

MacKinnie thought for a moment, then said, “Yes, but I don’t see how that can help us.”

“You haven’t thought about this for months, as I have. We found that book not long after they landed, Colonel, It took only a few weeks to understand most of the language. It’s not all that different from ours, at least the written forms, which is why the Imperials get around Haven so easily.”

The policeman lit a ’robac cigar, leaned back in his chair, and glared at the ceiling. “Ever since I could read that thing, I’ve thought of little else but ways to escape this trap. There’s no way to avoid being part of the Empire, but by the Saints we can make them take us in as human beings, not slaves!”

“If you had the book so early, you must have understood what they wanted before Haven made the alliance with them.”

“Of course. It was on my advice that His Majesty entered the alliance. Unless we consolidate Prince Samual’s World under a planetary government, we have no chance at all of escaping colonization. And unless it’s under King David, I won’t have any influence over the planetary government, and you will pardon me if I think I may be better at this kind of intrigue than some of the, shall we say, more honorable men of the other city-states?”

“All right,” MacKinnie said. “So you’re a master of intrigue. I still don’t see what we can do.”

Dougal laughed. “You’ve drunk too much whiskey, Iron Man MacKinnie. Tonight and other nights. You’re not above a bit of duplicity yourself. You used several very clever dodges on us. Your record, Colonel — I have it here — your record says you are more than just a simple combat soldier. But it’s pleasing to be able to instruct you.”

Dougal poured more chickeest. “That library is the key to it all. If we had the knowledge that must be there — our people at the University, and the industrial barons of Orleans and Haven, and the miners of Clanranald — what couldn’t they do? We could build a spaceship. A starship, perhaps. And by their own rules the Imperials would have to admit us as a classified world, not a colony. We’d still have to knuckle under to them, but we’d be subjects, not slaves.”

MacKinnie took a deep breath. “That’s quite a plan.”

“It’s the only possible plan.”

“I don’t know — Look. Suppose it’s true. With knowledge, construction plans even, with a planetary government to bring together the technology of North Continent and the resources of South Continent, perhaps it could be done. Perhaps. But we haven’t the time. It would take years.”

“We’ll have years. The Imperials won’t move until we consolidate the kingdoms. They’re in no great hurry. They’ve made it clear they want as little bloodshed and destruction as possible. I can see that it takes time to bring in all the city-states. That will give us time to build the ship. It won’t be easy, building a thing like that under their noses, but they won’t have very many people on this planet, and they won’t suspect a thing until it’s done.”

MacKinnie shook his head. “I don’t see how you can keep them from finding out, but you’re better at that than me. But you can’t get at the library without a ship, and we can’t build a ship without the library. Even if we had one, we couldn’t operate it. There’s been nobody on this planet who ever saw the inside of a starship for hundreds of years. Until the Imperials came, most of the population thought that history before the Secession Wars was just a lot of legends. How in hell do you propose that we get to the Eye of the Needle?”