Inferno: A Chronicle of a Distant World (The Galactic Comedy) by Mike Resnick

on the planet, he even lobbied the moles—but most of all, he lobbied Emperor Bobby.
    Finally, Bobby agreed to make two public appearances with Barioke, in both of which he gave his approval to the notion of immediate self-rule, which was followed by Barioke's impassioned oratory. It was after the second rally that Beddoes requested an audience with him.
    It took her a week to be ushered into his presence, since he had been spent the intervening days partying on nearby Beta Lemoris III, but finally she found herself sitting across a desk from the Emperor, who looked none the worse for wear for all the traveling he had done lately. From the paintings and holographs on the wall, the shape of the desk and chairs, the carpeting on the floor, she would never have guessed that she was in an alien's office had she not known otherwise.
    "How nice to see you again, Susan," said Bobby, his golden fur rippling as he shot her an ingratiating smile. "How goes your insect collecting?"
    I'll give you this: you're every inch a politician, she thought, not without a touch of admiration.
    "Arthur Cartright has asked me to speak to you, your majesty," she replied.
    "And how is my old friend Arthur doing?" he asked. "I haven't seen him for months."
    "He's very busy these days," she replied. "We've opened up another dozen mining worlds this year."
    "Tell him to come to Faligor for a vacation," suggested Bobby.
    "Faligor is never far from his mind," answered Beddoes. "In fact, I'm here at his request."
    "Ah," he said, and suddenly his face looked more like an unhappy puppy than a jason or a Man. "The speeches."
    "He feels that you're giving your people expectations that cannot be realized," said Beddoes.
    "Ever?" asked Bobby sharply.
    "In the immediate future," said Beddoes. "Furthermore, you have aligned yourself with a very capable politician who has no desire whatsoever to join the Republic."
    "He's just a Rizzali rabble-rouser," replied Bobby, with a shrug—unique to his species—that started at his cranium and slowly rippled his golden fleece all the way down to his three-toed feet.
    "Then why associate with him?"
    "Because he's a very popular rabble-rouser, and I am the President of all my people."
    "He is very dangerous, your majesty," said Beddoes.
    "I have every intention of assimilating him into my government, where he will be given some official function and never be heard from again," Bobby assured her. "But in the meantime, he and I happen to agree that things are moving too slowly. We really should not have to come to you, hat in hands, to beg for self-rule. We had it before you landed on our planet. We never gave it away, so why should we have to debase ourselves to get it back?"
    "I fail to see how educating your people, expanding your economy, vaccinating your children, and showing you how best to make use of your natural resources constitutes debasement," said Beddoes.
    "I don't doubt that you fail to see it," responded Bobby. "Probably this is because no one has ever given your race orders."
    "Everything we have suggested—and we have suggested, not ordered—has been for Faligor's benefit, your majesty."
    "Nevertheless, we resent being denied self-rule. On that point, Barioke and I think as one."
    "It is possible that the length of time you remain a protectorate can be shortened," said Beddoes, "but not if you ally yourself with Barioke."
    "He is a very astute political thinker," said Bobby.
    "He's too smart by half."
    "He frightens you, does he?" asked Bobby, amused.
    "Nothing frightens the Republic," answered Susan. "But he should frighten you, your majesty."
    Bobby laughed again. "He is just a Rizzali."
    "You know that the size of the Rizzali army has tripled since he returned from the Canphor system."
    "All of the countries of Faligor have armies," said Bobby dismissively.
    "Why?" asked Beddoes. "The jasons only own seven spaceships, and four of them are yours. What worlds do you plan to go to war with?"
    "Let me assuage