your doubts, Susan," said Bobby with a smile. "The armies are just for show, and to protect our territorial borders. As for the Rizzali army, it is a joke, commanded by the biggest clown of all."
"Prego Katora is no clown," Beddoes pointed out. "He graduated from one of the finest military academies on Deluros VIII."
"Prego Katora no longer commands the Rizzali army," answered Bobby.
"No?"
"Do you remember the boxing match I sponsored some time back?"
"Yes," said Beddoes warily. "What of it?"
"Do you remember Gama Labu, the jason who beat your champion?"
"Yes."
"Well, it is Labu, with the body of a self-indulgent giant and the intellect of a child, who is now in charge of Barioke's army." Bobby threw back his head and laughed. "Labu, who cannot even spell his name! If you were to tell him the enemy was gathering to the east, he would probably launch an attack on the Hills of Heaven. Now do you see why Barioke does not worry me?"
"I think you have more to fear than you realize, your majesty," said Beddoes sincerely.
"Because of Labu?" he said disbelievingly.
"There is something frightening about him," said Beddoes. "Something alien."
"Am I not an alien to you?" asked Bobby, amused.
"We are different species, but we hold certain basic principles in common. I think there is something about Gama Labu that is alien to all those things that we both cherish."
"And you base this on the fact that you saw him beat a human fighter in the ring?"
She shook her head. "No," she said slowly. "It is just a feeling I have about him."
"He is a clown," reasserted Bobby. "A great big clown. Always telling jokes, always drinking, always laughing loudest when he is the object of other people's jokes. He became a hero overnight when he defeated Billy Wycynski, and that doubtless caused his elevation to his current position, but nothing could be better for my purposes. In effect, it renders the Rizzali army useless. I will appropriate as much of William Barioke's support as I can, elevate him to a government position where I can control him, disband his army, and steer my people on a swift course that will culminate in self-rule."
"I think you are making a serious mistake, your majesty."
Bobby chuckled. "The day I can't control William Barioke is the day I'll retire from office and devote myself to a life of parties and sports."
I hope you'll tell us when it happens, so we'll know the difference, thought Beddoes caustically. Aloud, she said, "I cannot overstress the seriousness of the situation, your majesty."
"Certainly you can," said Bobby. "In fact, you already have."
"Arthur Cartright has empowered me to say that we will not support your alliance with Barioke, or your attempt to speed up the carefully-planned schedule for self-rule."
"Of course he'll support us," said Bobby. "Faligor is his noble experiment, the shining example upon which he has staked his reputation. How would it look if I toured the Republic complaining about the Department of Cartography's repression, or turned Gama Labu loose on your handful of military advisors, always assuming that he could find them?" Bobby grinned. "What would he do then, Susan? Call for the Navy he so despises to pacify us, as they have pacified so many other worlds?" He paused. "Arthur has his deadlines, and I have mine—and on my world, mine take precedence. I think Arthur had better get used to the idea that Faligor will be ruling itself within the next two years."
Beddoes stared at him silently, thinking about what she had heard.
"Come, come, Susan," he said easily. "Have you nothing to say?"
"I'm in an awkward position, your majesty," she replied. "I have delivered Arthur Cartright's message to you. To say anything further would be to exceed my authority." She paused, undecided. "And yet I have some things I very much want to say."
"I will consider all remarks to be confidential," answered Bobby.
She considered his offer for a moment, then sighed. "All right," she said.
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