--> Onwards to the 2nd half: KNOWLEDGE
Back to the prequel: PSYCHOHISTORIANS <--
On the walls, several SCREENS display NEWS, institutional/educative VIDEOS, live CLASSROOMS...
An inner DOOR with a SIGN:
Doctor Alurin
(Applied Psychology Dept)
COUNSELOR
1 of the Screens BLINKS, SWITCHES to 'command mode':
Accessing
TV Network.
Please wait...
Then:
ERROR:
Unauthorized!
The KID in front (the youngest, Poly) furiously WORKS his PAD, until the Screen changes to a (vintage) KIDS PROGRAMME:
The Adventures
of
LUCKY STARR
&
The Subspace Pirates!
The others all cheer & WATCH the Screen, except ONE (Salvor), who WATCHES the hacker.
FADE TO:
CAPTION:
TERMINUS
(Imperial Domain)
46 F.E.
LEWIS PIRENNE (60s, formal LABCOAT) WORKS his (holo)CONSOLE, (re)arranging virtual BOXES, opening/closing 'em, checking/adding NOTES...
Text like:
The so-called Golden Age of Imperial progress in all areas ended approximately
when the Delmir Expedition to the Central Galactic Black Hole [+] vanished
without a trace. Which was the cause and which the consequence is
still debated among Scholars today and may never be fully known.
On a corner, the LABEL:
Encyclopedia Galactica
Vol I. Vers 6h. Rev 19c
He PICKS 1 of 10 thumbnail-sized diverse-colored faintly-glowing ceramic/glassy/metal-filigreed DATACUBES arranged on the desk before the Console. It stops glowing.
He EXAMINES it closely, places it with the 50+ OTHERS inside a (small) open iridescent-plastic "cigar" BOX, takes another from it.
A (modest) KNOCK on the (high, double) DOORS.
Closing the box's LID (appearance of endlessly-flowing water):
Entering:
Approaching:
I'll be happy when the whole experiment bears fruit, and the Board of Trustees of the Foundation can stop wasting valuable time and resources on non-Encyclopedia business.
(re: his SCREEN)
It took us decades of toil to go from mere survival to getting some serious work done, and then more decades to gather and peer-review enough data, and one last decade to get everyone, all the Departments and Divisions, working at full capacity in the same direction, before being ready to publish something significant. The Galaxy's waiting, Salvor.
Worry not: Our projections and the polls forecast a smooth transition. Giving everyone a say in what and how things are to be done has worked wonders.
You better be right. It's been a long 5 years since you volunteered to clean the mess at the Committee of Municipal Affairs, and promised the Board an end to all the wasteful disturbances and conflicts. It was inevitable that a city grew around our Premises, but it grew too much, too fast!
Offering his PAD:
It took some work, but acceptance of the new City Charter is high, and the new Town Hall was needed anyway to handle the administrative issues of our growing population. The old CMA will transform into the new Mayor's Office in a most symbolic and satisfying way.
Waving the PAD gently AWAY:
I know, I know. Getting the Trading Union to accept 1 last delay of their priced new Spaceport was a masterstroke. But no more surprises, eh, Hardin? In 3 years we'll celebrate our 50 anniversary. That's a milestone we cannot miss. Terminus City will run itself and the Trustees won't need to intervene and clean a new mess of your own making, yes?
A magnificent Teacher, and the last of our Founder's disciples. Pity so few of 'em made it here after the Imperial University purge.
(beat)
I heard he bequeathed you his manuscripts on Applied Psychology, the textbooks he wrote after arriving, when the Anacreonians finally booted him. You sent a copy to the Archives?
Of course. He'd be pleased with how I'm using all he taught me, if he still lived. But I've come for another matter, one where I'm afraid only you can decide.
PAUSING his work:
(serious)
Our Fact Finders are hitching a ride with a Trading Convoy all the way to Vega, where they'll spend a month gathering new data for the Encyclopedia, while the Traders load up with spices, tobacco, machinery, raw metals, a bunch of Students, even some Engineers.
(shrugs)
Not our concern, as long as we can get the many things we need Trading the things others want. We're lucky our neighbors like the small trinkets our Applied Science Labs craft, but our Traders worry about the availability and safety of their Routes, particularly with what's happening at Anacreon, after what happened with Santanni.
Santanni's Routes are open again, after the Pirates were banished. As for Anacreon, it's always simmering with 1 thing or another. The Imperial Governor has everything under control.
(intense)
Are you sure about that? Our Commercial Representatives on different planets say this time might be different, this time the troubles might involve the Fleet itself.
That'd be a first. Even so, I wouldn't worry: the Empire will reassert control, as always, and meanwhile there'll be many other places to Trade with.
Less places than used to be, and harder to reach, but if you think so... Still, it wouldn't hurt to petition the Emperor for some armed Escorts, maybe more Patrols and such.
(firm)
We are Scientists, Academics, Librarians. The Emperor expects 1 thing of us, and only 1: Hari Seldon's promised new Encyclopedia Galactica, not useless alarms about local events that might amount to nothing. Don't let your roots bias you.
We are also his loyal Subjects: It is our right, even our duty, to tell him our concerns. At the very least it will calm some nervous Traders, the same taxpayers that keep Terminus City funded without eating into the Foundation's resources.
(smiles)
More of your Psychological tricks, huh? Very well, as our Foundation's highest authority, I'll see that it's done.
The DOORS at its end OPEN.
As HARDIN exits:
CLOSING the doors:
LEADING along the (deserted) corridor:
Says who? Old man only cares about his scientific work, his sacred duty to the Empire. Can't forget he was born on Trantor, even if he remembers little of it, having been brought here as a kid. You and I are from a new Generation.
Born and raised here, far from the comforts of the Court, same as our parents. Well, except your Dad.
Mother still hopes for his return, but...
(beat, focusing)
Now listen carefully: I've valued you brains, your out-of-the-box thinking, ever since we met as young hotheads.
SALUTING people (many w/ stylish LABCOATS) they cross:
(grim)
This is way above exploding a Blaster gun's powercell, or revolutionizing the Data Quality Board proving our copies of the Imperial Library have gaps, or forcing the Infrastructures Committee to admit our Manufacturing isn't fully self-sustaining, nor our Trading enough.
Yeah. And so the Fact Finding missions started. Pity 10s of 'em all over the Galaxy have found so few new Facts or Data.
LEADING along an INTERSECTION and another (busier, w/ less/simpler LABCOATS) corridor:
Which leads us to tonight's trip, with some of our best Traders, rugged people who spend their lives combing the Galaxy to keep our markets supplied despite our limited means, interested enough to sponsor your particular brand of Fact Finding.
I know. You are our best bet for helping our Trader friends find what we most need, gauge the costs, the alternatives. Other than that, you're a passenger, you stay out of trouble, and you come back safely. Understood?
Hand on the other's shoulder:
To use a gun? Violence is for those who don't know better. No: learn caution, discretion, observation, negotiation, bribing if needs be. Those are the tools of the Trade. Blasters and cigars are for show. You're too valuable for that.
True, but Vega may be our only chance. Things were bad 20 years ago, when the Imperial Fleet still guarded the main Routes and everything else was a free-for-all. But every year things worsen a bit more.
I know: Trade routes are no longer guaranteed: they change and vanish. Every port, every refueling node, brim with danger, even where there's no Pirates...
Descending STAIRS:
(gesturing)
It only takes a Blockade, or 1 overzealous Customs bureaucrat, to ruin an expedition. Traders know the risks, but a lot can happen in 3 months, and that's all the risk you're allowed. Promise.
I'd ask Yohan Lee to do it instead. He respects my Psychological Engineering degree that's brought me where I am.
CARESSING his own throat:
OPENING a (small) office door PLASTERED with
Vote HARDIN
for MAYOR!
and
Your FUTURE
in your HANDS! banners:
Near its RIM, 1 of a group of STARS briefly FLARES.
Near its CORE, the WHITEST of many stars FLARES too.
All over the spiral, other stars (10s) also (randomly) briefly FLARE.
POLY (in showy/leathery 'trader' ATTIRE incl. gun HOLSTER) catches GLIMPSES of a (not too far) SPACE-BATTLE outside, BLASTS flying between several (similar, spiky) WARSHIPS.
Caption:
3 MONTHS
+ 6 DAYS
LATER
MASTER (Off Screen, from speakers)
One last effort! We're almost home!
Suddenly, lights FLICKER, everything SHUDDERS!
ALARMS multiply!!
People are wildly THROWN around as 'up' & 'down' CHANGE (a few times)!!!
They HIT objects, each other, cabling, the walls/ceiling...
BLINK to BLACK.
Big (glassy) DOORS (closed) with a
MAYOR'S OFFICE sign.
POLY (head, arm & leg BANDAGED), limping, appears, helped by LEE (late 30s, muscular, plain civilian clothes), who OPENS the doors to:
RISING from behind a large (dark, plastic) DESK (in a stylized/tunic-ish business SUIT):
By the Galaxy! You cut it too close!
(to the Traders)
We'll formulate a plan within the hour, my friends. Now if you'll excuse me...
They (unhappily) EXIT.
LEE closes the DOORS.
A skirmish with Loyalists.
Slowly SITTING down:
(grunts)
Luckily there was no hull Breach! Did you know most Trader ships carry no proper Shields?
Very few Civilian craft do.
A dozen injured, nothing too serious. 2 ships stopped at the 'Dock, to check and fix things before Landing.
Offering a PAD:
Full copies of several technical Databanks and cultural Libraries... plus tons of scrap metal.
TAKING the pad:
FLASHBACK:
Several TRADERS, helpers, workers, etc. CHECK the place.
Main Factory had been relocated. The rest was there, but abandoned, ravaged.
POLY, a Trader's COAT over his (flimsy) labcoat, POINTS with a hand-held SCANNER.
BACK TO:
(shrugs)
We bribed the locals and swept the place clean: tools, blueprints, molds, broken machines... Enough to build 1 or 2 Factories of our own. With a little more effort than expected.
Trading Leader claims 1 of the scrap containers as their risk bonus.
That'll be the quarter-ton of stabilized Military-grade Nucleics we scooped from basement nooks and crannies. No way to ever manufacture our own weapon powercells otherwise.
Yohan, offer our hardy expeditioners twice that bonus' value in our Commercial-grade Nucleics.
LEE and POLY trade GLANCES.
(recalculating)
Plus a one-time Customs-exemption voucher. As a consideration, for their families.
(nods)
Allright.
You'll be resting here for a while, lad. Be good for your health, too.
ACTIVATING his desk-Console:
These weren't the usual scuffles between overly aggressive Fleet Captains jostling for position. 4 days ago our Ultrawave received this Newscast:
The Console PROJECTS (a composite of) several holo-images:
Fleet COMMANDER,
supported by 2
of every 3 SHIPS,
OUSTS his uncle
the GOVERNOR!
The Governor was already pretty old.
(frowns)
Huh. That's happened before, somewhere... 8 or 12 years ago? Things will eventually settle down. Maybe for the best.
New Royal Governor
takes the title of
KING, DECLARES the
former Prefect of
ANACREON INDEPENDENT!
Something was bound to happen, after how life has deteriorated in the past century all over the Periphery, for most everybody except a Privileged few, while Trantor did nothing.
A GHOSTLY blue
97.8 FLOATS BY.
Our Commercial Representatives say the civilian population cares about little more than food and shelter, but things could spiral out of control very easily.
Maybe. If the ground Garrisons don't play along, or if the Empire sends an attack Fleet.
This morning, the Empire decreed the whole Province under embargo, which unfortunately affects us too, unless we want to explore new Routes beyond what's usually considered useful, or safe.
With Trade and Communications blocked, both the City and the Foundation risk complete disaster.
DEACTIVATING the Console:
1 of the smaller wheels TURNS a bit. The others don't, but lightly BUDGE. Faraway CLINK-CLANKING sounds.
ZOOM/FADE INTO:
CAPTION:
SELDON HALL
FADE IN:
49 F.E.
HARDIN (business casual) ENTERS, locates his prey.
The LEAD worker TALKS to his mic, SIGNALS to the LEAD tech.
The glass block STOPS rising, LOCKS in place. Floodlights FILL it with a uniform white GLOW.
Everybody looks at:
(happy)
Marvelous! After so many years! Our First Volume must be officially unveiled with all due...
Approaching:
(cold)
Hardin!? We had an understanding! Am I not to have peace, even here!? While readying the all-important Launch's preparations? Your popularity with the general citizenry doesn't...!
The floodlights & glow DIM.
Sorry. I'd rather be elsewhere too. Your cautious policy of waiting to see if Anacreon and its splinters and the Empire solved their differences worked better than expected.
The glass block FILLS with PRIMARY COLORS in slow carousel.
(wary)
Communications and Trade resumed after only 6 months of Embargo. Not as freely as before, but what else could we expect in these barbarous times, given the circumstances?
Anacreon and the other 3 Kingdoms have been too busy at each other's throat to pay much attention to us, until now.
Kingdoms!? As if that mattered! The Empire guarantees our continued independence from local Politics, and that's all we need to finally accomplish our goal of publishing the initial Volume of the Encyclopedia in a few months.
What about the City's goal of providing enough food and supplies for all its inhabitants, enough Trade to avoid stagnation? Is the Empire going to guarantee that, soon?
I'm told that kind of Diplomacy is slow. The Kingdoms are too jealous of their so-called independent status, the main source of the fights between 'em, as we've seen.
Yeah. And yet you're busy pushing schedules to have your First Volume ready for distribution when the ghost of Hari Seldon appears right here to congratulate the Encyclopedists for a job well done.
The glass block FILLS with more TEST PATTERNS (BLACK/WHITE).
You knew!? It's supposed to be a secret! We only found the pre-scheduled event in the Databanks last month. We don't even know what kind of holo recording it will display!
EYEING the 10s of people around:
Rumours fly. Old Seldon is still a popular fodder for the masses, and 50 is a nice number of years since our Founding. But don't worry, the Newscasters have agreed to delay their official Announcement until it's confirmed by you.
Why, yes: Anacreon and Smyrno confirm their latest Truce and the end (for now at least) of their conflicts. Which means all our neighbors are at peace for the first time in 3 bloody long years.
To celebrate, Anacreon is sending us a Special Envoy in official visit. He'll be here in a couple weeks with his retinue.
(glum)
I'm afraid our so-called independence from local Politics is about to end. And, as you're the Chairman of the Board and thus the Emperor's direct Representative, you'll need to devote your valuable time and skills to the issue.
The glass block TURNS DARK.
Of course the City, and myself as the people's Representative, will assist you in any way we can, as always.
They all WATCH as a wall/door FINISHES scrolling UP, revealing a very STARRY NIGHT, a thin bluish SHIELD all around, + a wide RAMP in front.
On its top: a few Anacreonian SOLDIERS (w/ small Blasters & simple SWORDS), bureaucrats, minor NOBLES + a high-ranked OFFICER (RODRIC) w/ condecorations, ornate Blaster & SWORD.
Behind 'em: another (poorly lit, bigger?) hangar/warehouse.
Wish I wasn't needed here, with the First Volume so close to Launch.
Be glad they don't expect anything as bloody elaborate as other places usually do.
RODRIC, (loosely) SURROUNDED by the others, WALKS downramp.
All will be ok: we have dealt with the Anacreonians before. Our Traders too. We know 'em well.
Did we or our Traders deal with many War veterans or Nobility, before?
HALFWAY, RODRIC & his GROUP cross a ghostly Shield barrier, stop.
(formal)
Per Ancient custom, my Lord Anselm haut Rodric, Frigate Commander in the Smyrno war, Sub-prefect of Pluema and Envoy Extraordinary of his Highness of Anacreon, would be honored to visit you and your world.
RODRIC curtly BOWS to them, ceremoniously UNHOLSTERS his Blaster GUN, gives it to the AIDE.
PIRENNE reciprocates, gives his to LEE, who (formally) exchanges it with the Aide's.
The AIDE presents Pirenne's GUN to RODRIC while LEE presents Rodric's to PIRENNE.
(formal)
Chairman Pirenne of the Encyclopedia Foundation, and Mayor Hardin, representing Terminus City and its diplomatic and commercial interests, welcome you.
Advancing:
(expansively)
My friends, I'm so happy to meet you!
He HUGS PIRENNE, who barely hesitates to reciprocate.
LEE (discreetly) un-exchanges Blasters with the AIDE.
The Anacreonian visitors ENTER the Tradeship, which LOWERS its scroll-door, sealing its SIDE.
The Frigate RAISES its ramp-door, SEALING too.
The Shields SEPARATE as the Tradeship TURNS to enter the atmosphere.
The Frigate's nearest BLASTER CANNONS track it.
Beyond: A modest-sized SPACEDOCK, busy with (large) ships ARRIVING, DEPARTING, REFUELING, REPAIRING...
Beyond: several small & big SATELLITES, incl. 10s of wide (flat, multi-part) ORBITAL MIRRORS reflecting sunlight planetwards.
Beyond: Big CARGO ships release huge CLOUDS of shiny white SNOW not far from the atmosphere's limit.
City Guards around several (open) GROUNDCARS.
The group EXITS the LANDED Tradeship, talking animatedly, BOARDS the cars.
LEE DRIVES the biggest one, HARDIN in the co-pilot seat, RODRIC with PIRENNE in the stately BACKSEAT.
City Guards & (1000s of) people (some with Banners or FLAGS) watch/CHEER the motorcade.
The cars PASS BY normal (smallish) buildings, the big POWERPLANT, the TOWN HALL, other important/large BUILDINGS (incl. the Trading Union's), Seldon HALL...
We heard this was a failed Colony, or on the brink of being so. Your only City is rather small, but you got fancy Architecture, nice everyday trinkets & stuff... reminds me of the travels of my youth. Must be true you come directly from Trantor!
Our population isn't big, barely a million people. The planet is resource-poor, and still mostly barren, so our growth and well-being depend on Trade, mainly with Anacreon's big worlds.
We were founded only 50 years ago, but not as a common Colony. Our mission is much higher: the creation and mass distribution of the most complete Compendium ever of all human culture and knowledge.
A book, you mean? A big one?
For all the Libraries in the Galaxy. Everyone will be free to read it, and learn whatever they need.
Sounds nice, but the full significance of such endeavor escapes me.
Finally, the motorcade ENTERS:
Students & Faculty (in diverse LABCOATS & TUNICS) all politely SALUTE the guests.
Re: a variety of big & small BUILDINGS:
That's the main Archives, behind the Review Labs, next the Classification and Cross-Discipline Workshops, to this side Lecture Halls, the Composition and Layering Studios...
The new and improved Encyclopedia Galactica will have interactive holo-imagery, multi-path courses, and all kinds of additional media and sources...
Re: a large busy WORKSITE (people, raw materials, MACHINERY) around a huge (squarish) HOLE in the ground:
That's where our massive state-of-the-art datacube printing presses will be housed, probably next year.
The car CONTOURS the SITE at reduced speed.
A (ceramic) thumb-sized DATACUBE in his hand:
We have the main design and most parts ready. The rest is just Logistics. Stamping millions of copies of 100s of Volumes for all who cannot print their own is a gigantic task. It'll take years, perhaps decades.
He gives the Datacube to RODRIC.
Plus all the gathering, cross-referencing, curation, and updating efforts. As you see, we're very busy people.
(grim)
The people on Anacreon, and indeed most of this Sector of the Periphery, are busy finding something to eat, burn, or pillage, or hiding from looters.
He returns the Datacube to:
We're aware of the hardships many suffer. Our work is ultimately destined to improve all those lives.
The vast bulk of human knowledge, not just the scientific and technological fields, but also the Philosophy, History, Economy, Psychology... can and should be applied to the betterment of the Human Condition.
That's all well and good, but the lack of Imperial solutions to our plights was a major drive in our need for unconstrained self-rule. Even if the neighboring Kingdoms carried things too far.
Quite understandable, but the fragmentation poses barriers to communication, Trade and cooperation that only add to the problem.
The car RESUMES the tour towards the biggest buildings/TOWERS.
The enlightened King of Anacreon supports the Arts, and the Sciences, and agrees with you. Unfortunately, the barbarian despots out there don't. The miserables resent our prosperity, and wouldn't mind seeing everything go down in ruins to pillage their share, if we hadn't beaten 'em back after several Wars!
Our Foundation is no party to any of that. We are under the direct rule of His Majesty the Emperor, the better to see His dear wishes fulfilled.
I'm afraid the matter is not so simple, as your little planet lies in the path of Smyrno's ambitions. Perhaps those of Konom and Daribow too.
We Trade with all of 'em, and have peaceful, mutually-beneficial relationships, same as with Anacreon.
(angry?)
You shouldn't trust those who'd rather put your necks in a clamp and enslave you to their whims!
They already did, the day of their Independence. The Imperial Fleet is yet to come claim 'em back.
So that's why you've come, Lord Rodric? To offer us... Protection?
(smooth)
In the name of friendship and mutually-beneficial arrangements, as you said, yes. It would be a disaster if someone conquered your defenseless world and we were forced to fight to free you.
Oh, well, in that case, our friend the King of Anacreon is welcome to add his might to the Empire's, to better ensure our crucial Academic work proceeds uninterrupted.
Glad to hear that, but it won't be so easy. Powerful as Anacreon is, we also need to care for 100s of light-years of Borders, and millions of our own needy people. Protection of the kind you'll need -- orbitals, patrolships, mines, garrisons -- doesn't come cheap.
Ahhhh. So there's a price?
A productive investment in our great future together. You win, we win, our common enemies lose!
I'm afraid we cannot divert any of our meager resources for that kind of investment, Lord Rodric. The Empire's authority will continue to be enough for us.
But, my friends, Anacreon's authority is more practical, and much closer. I urge you to consider the situation, carefully.
The cars STOP before:
LEE descends while the others:
Let's see if we can find a common ground for all of us: With Imperial funding blocked, our Trading and Manufacturing barely suffice to keep both the City and the Encyclopedia Foundation afloat.
We import all our metals and chemicals. There's nothing for space miners around our star. No major Jump Routes, civilian or military, pass nearby...
Terminus was chosen for us precisely because it interests no one else. What can Anacreon (or any others) possibly get that compensates the hassle of coming here?
Well, the planet is small, but not infertile, right? It's only barren because your people haven't got around to seeding and exploiting the land yet.
True: We only Farm enough to feed ourselves. The Industry needed for the Encyclopedia takes precedence.
(smiles)
There you have it: Anacreonian farmers could relocate here and make a good living. Their Lords would pay handsomely for any Estates auctioned, all of which would generate useful Taxes. Your City needn't be concerned, so your current life and occupations could go on unchanged.
Exchanging GLANCES with PIRENNE:
Of course, should you so desire, your continued friendship would be rewarded with some nice Estates of your own, even Titles, free of charge.
(cold)
I already own all the titles I care for, thanks. Would your King guarantee our continued Independence?
(firm)
Terminus will become a part of Anacreon, or of 1 of the barbarian Kingdoms. In this day and age, independence is a luxury you can no longer afford.
(upset)
Well, I don't...!!
LEE carefully TOUCHES Pirenne's ARM, drawing his attention!
Would your King guarantee a steady supply of refined Hydrogen and Helium for our Primary Powerplant? We need it to yield not just Energy, but also all the Nucleics for our Factories, ships and the specialty items and gadgets we sell.
(smug)
Of course! We only finished it a few years ago, but its Nucleosynthesis already supplies us with all the advanced materials our Civilization uses for everything, from Jumpships and Secondary Powersources to Medicine, clothing, Construction...
EYEING Lee:
We heard Anacreon had trouble with theirs. We could help you with it... in exchange for continued privileges.
(wary)
The wars have taken a heavy toll on all kinds of Infrastructure, which was never too reliable to begin with, under the Imperials. Recruiting good people has never been harder, even for the Military. You're all Civilians: you wouldn't understand.
Yet our neutral position as non-combatants enables us to export quality parts and machinery to everyone in need.
Primary Powerplants are devilishly difficult to keep running, and without their Nucleics our Secondaries often idle. Energy is... an ongoing issue for most nearby worlds, not just ours.
(smiles)
There you have it: we can supply your needs at very reasonable cost. Parts and power for your Fleet's Weapons, Shields and Gravitics, too. Anacreon won't need to annex our little planet at all.
(formal)
Sirs, most honoured Guests, if you please: we should go inside for the official Banquet.
As the Banquet ends, RODRIC talks animatedly, MIMICKING fleet formations, ship moves, battles... from time to time EYEING the armed Guards.
ROWS of (10s of) uniformed City Guards await, Blaster guns/rifles at the ready.
POLY discreetly talks with their (grizzled) COMMANDER, while RODRIC & his group (hurriedly) WALK BY.
The Guards all POINT their RIFLES at the (low) clouds, FIRE unison Blast BOLTS once, twice, 3 times, the sharp CRACK of each round filling the air.
Is that much noise really necessary?
The Guards stand at REST.
Joining:
Not bad, with no time to prepare! When did our simple product advertising with those Guards turn into a full-blown Demo?
After a last look behind (+ a polite SALUTE) RODRIC & his group board a (small) TRADESHIP.
(uneasy)
We're lucky those illiterate goons cannot tell one type of Powerplant from another.
The bulk of their general populace may not have time or appetite for higher learning, but they seemed smart enough to me. Perfectly competent in the business of War.
Telling 'em we have a source of Nucleics makes us an even more important target!
Yeah, one that could be much better defended than they were ready to handle. If Nucleics scarcity truly was the main reason for the Anacreonians' desire of Peace...
Our Traders have reported price spikes and energy blackouts on all the Kingdoms this past year or 2, despite their use of chemical power and renewables. So, yes I bet it was.
Chemical reactions are so inefficient compared to Nucleic! And dirty! Even with solar and wind, it's doubtful they can sustain advanced Industries.
The tradeship DEPARTS.
Explains their suggestion to use 1 of our ships for landing. Many of their battles and skirmishes were more posturing than actual shooting. If their Warships can barely Jump...
They could still take Terminus easily. Their new-found caution can only benefit us: They'll need months to ascertain whether we sell more Nucleics than we buy.
But buying any becomes harder every week. And it will take us years to finish upgrading our Secondary to a Primary!
Without hope of help nor permission from the Imperial Fleet to skirt their secular Monopoly.
We can do it: We have the Foundation's knowledge, we can gather the parts and the personnel. We'll need to develop a new strategy, re-prioritize everything.
(firm)
The Encyclopedia is still our main goal. All your scheming amounts to nothing as soon as 1 of the Kingdoms rebuilds their energy sources.
(grim)
Sorry, but survival and Neutrality in any coming conflicts must be first, even if that means delays for other goals.
We also cannot allow a lot of Farming, lest it destabilizes the Greenhouse Gases that keep the planet from freezing to death.
PIRENNE FROWNS.
The small wheel TURNS another bit. Nearby, 2 or 3 (unconnected) others FOLLOW. A faint CLICK/CLACK sounds.
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