situation? Has Dramocles attacked you or taken anything belonging to you?”
“No. But Aardvark and Lekk–”
“–have nothing to do with you.”
“My dear, you surprise me. They are our friends, our allies. Dramocles has broken the peace, his incursions are insufferable, he is a threat to the common good. My actions were absolutely in the right.”
“I’m not talking right and wrong,” Anne said. “I’m talking business. What makes you think we can afford a war?”
John was momentarily dumbstruck. At this moment he disliked Anne even more than usual. At the time of their marriage, he had welcomed her dowry of one fertile moon and a million golden hex nuts. Her candor had been refreshing then. Now, the hex nuts spent and the moon reduced to barrenness through the inept administration of his cronies, Anne didn’t seem like such a good deal. She was a tall, skinny, hawk-nosed bleached blonde with more balls than a herd of bull elephants.
“War,” he told her, “has nothing to do with whether or not you can afford it. War is a natural phenomenon. It just happens.”
“In this case,” Anne said, “it happened because you sent your troops into Lekk. Is that what you call a natural phenomenon? John, we simply cannot afford it. Must I remind you what a disastrous year this has been? First famine in Blore, and then flooding on the lower Stuntx.”
“Appalling, of course, but the Royal Insurance Company of Crimsole paid for all the damage.”
“Yes. But since we own the company, the loss is still ours.”
“So it’s a loss,” John said. “We’ll amortize it, or whatever you do to get rid of losses. Thirty thousand robots on Lekk can’t cost all that much.”
“Have it your own way,” Anne said. “Just remember this conversation when we go bankrupt.”
“Surely you exaggerate,” John said. “How can a planet go bankrupt?”
“A king can go bankrupt when he’s run out of money and can’t get any more, as is about to happen to you.”
John thought about it. “Maybe we’d better raise the taxes.”
“The people are at the point of rebellion now,” Anne said. “Another increase and they’ll put up the barricades.”
“We’ll put down their revolt with our robot troops.”
“Of course. But we lose even more revenue that way.”
“How do you figure?”
“We lose the money our subjects aren’t paying us while they’re revolting, and we also lose the money it costs us to put them down.”
“Well … We’ll print more money, then.”
Anne reminded him, not for the first time, how entire civilizations had collapsed once their currency was debased. John didn’t understand–since it was his planet, it seemed only logical that he could have all the money he wanted–but he grudgingly conceded the point.
“I don’t care what it costs,” he said. “I had to do something about Dramocles, and I don’t care if I go bankrupt for it. There’s also my friendship with Snint to be considered.”
“Snint! That sly man!”
John nodded unhappily. Ever since his troops had landed on Lekk, the local Lekkian forces had been melting away. Snint said they were rallying, but it looked very much as if they were out in the fields, getting in the fall harvest. Snint even had the temerity to point out that what his people really needed was money, so they could buy robot armies of their own. If John chose to send his own troops instead, he must be prepared to let them do the fighting.
“Snint’s no fool,” Anne said. “My spies report that he still sends Dramocles friendly postcards. He’s prepared to profit no matter how this turns out.”
“I’ve heard enough,” John said. “You can’t expect me just to bring back our soldiers and call the whole thing off!”
“I could never expect anything so reasonable of you. But if it’s to be war, we must practice economies.”
“What do you mean?”
“No more clothes buying this year. No more spaceships, no more Terran
“No. But Aardvark and Lekk–”
“–have nothing to do with you.”
“My dear, you surprise me. They are our friends, our allies. Dramocles has broken the peace, his incursions are insufferable, he is a threat to the common good. My actions were absolutely in the right.”
“I’m not talking right and wrong,” Anne said. “I’m talking business. What makes you think we can afford a war?”
John was momentarily dumbstruck. At this moment he disliked Anne even more than usual. At the time of their marriage, he had welcomed her dowry of one fertile moon and a million golden hex nuts. Her candor had been refreshing then. Now, the hex nuts spent and the moon reduced to barrenness through the inept administration of his cronies, Anne didn’t seem like such a good deal. She was a tall, skinny, hawk-nosed bleached blonde with more balls than a herd of bull elephants.
“War,” he told her, “has nothing to do with whether or not you can afford it. War is a natural phenomenon. It just happens.”
“In this case,” Anne said, “it happened because you sent your troops into Lekk. Is that what you call a natural phenomenon? John, we simply cannot afford it. Must I remind you what a disastrous year this has been? First famine in Blore, and then flooding on the lower Stuntx.”
“Appalling, of course, but the Royal Insurance Company of Crimsole paid for all the damage.”
“Yes. But since we own the company, the loss is still ours.”
“So it’s a loss,” John said. “We’ll amortize it, or whatever you do to get rid of losses. Thirty thousand robots on Lekk can’t cost all that much.”
“Have it your own way,” Anne said. “Just remember this conversation when we go bankrupt.”
“Surely you exaggerate,” John said. “How can a planet go bankrupt?”
“A king can go bankrupt when he’s run out of money and can’t get any more, as is about to happen to you.”
John thought about it. “Maybe we’d better raise the taxes.”
“The people are at the point of rebellion now,” Anne said. “Another increase and they’ll put up the barricades.”
“We’ll put down their revolt with our robot troops.”
“Of course. But we lose even more revenue that way.”
“How do you figure?”
“We lose the money our subjects aren’t paying us while they’re revolting, and we also lose the money it costs us to put them down.”
“Well … We’ll print more money, then.”
Anne reminded him, not for the first time, how entire civilizations had collapsed once their currency was debased. John didn’t understand–since it was his planet, it seemed only logical that he could have all the money he wanted–but he grudgingly conceded the point.
“I don’t care what it costs,” he said. “I had to do something about Dramocles, and I don’t care if I go bankrupt for it. There’s also my friendship with Snint to be considered.”
“Snint! That sly man!”
John nodded unhappily. Ever since his troops had landed on Lekk, the local Lekkian forces had been melting away. Snint said they were rallying, but it looked very much as if they were out in the fields, getting in the fall harvest. Snint even had the temerity to point out that what his people really needed was money, so they could buy robot armies of their own. If John chose to send his own troops instead, he must be prepared to let them do the fighting.
“Snint’s no fool,” Anne said. “My spies report that he still sends Dramocles friendly postcards. He’s prepared to profit no matter how this turns out.”
“I’ve heard enough,” John said. “You can’t expect me just to bring back our soldiers and call the whole thing off!”
“I could never expect anything so reasonable of you. But if it’s to be war, we must practice economies.”
“What do you mean?”
“No more clothes buying this year. No more spaceships, no more Terran
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