Pirenne rose angrily.
"Your eminence, I am the direct representative of-"
"-his august majesty, the Emperor," chorused Anselm haut Rodric sourly,
"And I am the direct representative of the King of Anacreon. Anacreon is a lot nearer, Dr. Pirenne. "
"Let's get back to business," urged Hardin.
"How would you take these so-called taxes, your eminence?
Would you take them in kind: wheat, potatoes, vegetables, cattle?"
The sub-prefect stared.
"What the devil?
What do we need with those?
We've got hefty surpluses.
Gold, of course.
Chromium or vanadium would be even better, incidentally, if you have it in quantity."
Hardin laughed.
"Quantity!
We haven't even got iron in quantity.
Gold!
Here, take a look at our currency."
He tossed a coin to the envoy.
Haut Rodric bounced it and stared.
"What is it?
Steel?"
"That's right."
"I don't understand."
"Terminus is a planet practically without metals. We import it all.
Consequently, we have no gold, and nothing to pay unless you want a few thousand bushels of potatoes."
"Well - manufactured goods."
"Without metal?
What do we make our machines out of?"
There was a pause and Pirenne tried again.
"This whole discussion is wide of the point.
Terminus is not a planet, but a scientific foundation preparing a great encyclopedia.
Space, man, have you no respect for science?"
"Encyclopedias don't win wars." Haut Rodric's brows furrowed.
"A completely unproductive world, then - and practically unoccupied at that.
Well, you might pay with land."
"What do you mean?" asked Pirenne.
"This world is just about empty and the unoccupied land is probably fertile.
There are many of the nobility on Anacreon that would like an addition to their estates."
"You can't propose any such-"
"There's no necessity of looking so alarmed, Dr. Pirenne.
There's plenty for all of us.
If it comes to what it comes, and you co-operate, we could probably arrange it so that you lose nothing.
Titles can be conferred and estates granted.
You understand me, I think."
Pirenne sneered, "Thanks!"
And then Hardin said ingenuously:
"Could Anacreon supply us with adequate quantities of plutonium for our nuclear-power plant?
We've only a few years' supply left."
There was a gasp from Pirenne and then a dead silence for minutes.