Foundation and Empire by Isaac Asimov

beating doesn’t mean it’s any the less certain.”
    “Maybe; but I wish you had cracked Riose’s skull for keeps. He’s more the enemy than all his army.”
    “Cracked his skull? With Brodrig his second in command?” Barr’s face sharpened with hate. “All Siwenna would have been my hostage. Brodrig has proven his worth long since. There exists a world which five years ago lost one male in every ten – and simply for failure to meet outstanding taxes. This same Brodrig was the tax-collector. No, Riose may live. His punishments are mercy in comparison.”
    “But six months, six months, in the enemy Base, with nothing to show for it.” Devers’ strong hands clasped each other tautly, so that his knuckles cracked. “Nothing to show for it!”
    “Well, now, wait. You remind me–” Barr fumbled in his pouch. “You might want to count this.” And he tossed the small sphere of metal on the table.
    Devers snatched it. “What is it?”
    “The message capsule. The one that Riose received just before I jacked him. Does that count as something?”
    “I don’t know. Depends on what’s in it!” Devers sat down and turned it over carefully in his hand.
    When Barr stepped from his cold shower and, gratefully, into the mild warm current of the air dryer, he found Devers silent and absorbed at the workbench.
    The Siwennian slapped his body with a sharp rhythm and spoke above the punctuating sounds. “What are you doing?”
    Devers looked up. Droplets of perspiration glittered in his beard. “I’m going to open this capsule.”
    “Can
    you open it without Riose’s personal characteristic?” There was mild surprise in the Siwennian’s voice.
    “If I can’t, I’ll resign from the Association and never skipper a ship for what’s left of my life. I’ve got a three-way electronic analysis of the interior now, and I’ve got little jiggers that the Empire never heard of, especially made for jimmying capsules. I’ve been a burglar before this, y’know. A trader has to be something of everything.”
    He bent low over the little sphere, and a small flat instrument probed delicately and sparked redly at each fleeting contact.
    He said, “This capsule is a crude job, anyway. These Imperial boys are no shakes at this small work. I can see that. Ever see a Foundation capsule? It’s half the size and impervious to electronic analysis in the first place.”
    And then he was rigid, the shoulder muscles beneath his tunic tautening visibly. His tiny probe pressed slowly–
    It was noiseless when it came, but Devers; relaxed and sighed. In his hand was the shining sphere with its message unrolled like a parchment tongue.
    “It’s from Brodrig,” he said. Then, with contempt, “The message medium is permanent. In a Foundation capsule, the message would be oxidized to gas within the minute.”
    But Ducem Barr waved him silent. He read the message quickly.
    FROM: AMMEL BRODRIG, ENVOY EXTRAORDINARY OF HIS IMPERIAL MAJESTY, PRIVY SECRETARY OF THE COUNCIL, AND PEER OF THE REALM.
    TO: BEL RIOSE, MILITARY GOVERNOR OF SIWENNA. GENERAL OF THE IMPERIAL FORCES, AND PEER OF THE REALM. I GREET YOU.
    PLANET #1120 NO LONGER RESISTS. THE PLANS OF OFFENSE AS OUTLINED CONTINUE SMOOTHLY. THE ENEMY WEAKENS VISIBLY AND THE ULTIMATE ENDS IN VIEW WILL SURELY BE GAINED.
    Barr raised his head from the almost microscopic print and cried bitterly, “The fool! The forsaken blasted fop! That a message?”
    “Huh?” said Devers. He was vaguely disappointed.
    “It says nothing,” ground out Barr. “Our lick-spittle courtier is playing at general now. With Riose away, he is the field commander and must sooth his paltry spirit by spewing out his pompous reports concerning military affairs he has nothing to do with. ‘So-and-so planet no longer resists.’ ‘The offensive moves on.’ ‘The enemy weakens.’ The vacuum-headed peacock.”
    “Well, now, wait a minute. Hold on–“
    “Throw it away.” The old man turned away in mortification.