“They can be rebuilt,” said Lord Voraz.
“The blasts knocked down the huge Galactic Bank signs, the ones you can see from all over the cities in each capital, and they're still hanging there shattered. You can see what they said but that's about all.”
“They can be hung up again,” said Lord Voraz smoothly.
“But for a whole year,” the baron bored in like a mine drill, “you haven't done it! Now, all three Selachee planets depended upon banking. Those banks affected millions and millions of people. When you lost teleportation, you were thereafter unable to reach the other fifteen universes, space travel or no space travel. You have millions of Selachees stranded in branch banks all over those universes, banks as broke as His Excellency's, that you can't bring home. Families and relatives don't think they'll ever see their fathers or brothers or sons again. There are mobs rioting outside your bank doors. Rioting very loudly and howling for blood!”
Lord Voraz shrugged. “There are strong bank guards.”
“And how will you pay them?” said the baron. “Your bank income did not really come from loans but from Psychlo fund transfers. The instant Psychlo and Intergalactic Mining were blown up, there was no further fund flow. You started to go broke and you began to lay off employees. You know from Dries here that many of your branch banks have had to close their doors.”
“We have gone through economic difficulties before,” said Lord Voraz.
The baron leaned closer to him. “But not as bad as this one, Lord Voraz. The Psychlos were hated bitterly by peoples everywhere. When your Lord Loonger, whose face you carry on your bills, made a deal with the Psychlos a couple of hundred thousand years ago to handle all their finances, he refused to let any Psychlo sit on the bank's board of directors.”
“It would have hurt the bank's reputation,” said Lord Voraz. “A sensible move. People would have claimed it was a Psychlo bank.”
“Ah, yes,” said the baron. “But the Psychlos then insisted that forever thereafter the bank's reserves would be kept in vaults on Psychlo. They're gone!”
Lord Voraz dropped his heavy eyelids for a moment. He passed his hand across his face. Then he rallied. “It is true. This still does not alter the fact that you are a debtor.”
“It certainly does!” said the baron. “You're insolvent. And if you don't fine assets to back you fast, you will go under!”
“All right!” said Lord Voraz. “But this just proves the fact that we must repossess this planet!”
“This one planet won't save you,” said MacAdam.
“Why,” said the baron smoothly, “don't you just grab some old Psychlo mining planets or regency planets. There are over two hundred thousand of them lying about.”
“Oh, here now!” said Lord Voraz, horrified. “It is quite one thing to run down our credit and expose our troubles. But it is an entirely different thing to suggest the bank would ever engage upon piratical seizures of things to which it has no title!”
“Goodness,” said Dries, shocked. “Those planets were all properly paid for! You simply can't engage in theft!”
“Their titles would be in dispute!” said Lord Voraz. “It would open up the bank to wars and the bank is not a military organization! Anybody who touched those planets would wind up in court. No title to them! I must say, you know very little about intergalactic law governing nations!”
“Oh,” said MacAdam, “I think we do. Have you ever read the original Psychlo Imperial Royal Charter of the Intergalactic Mining Company?”
“Exhaustively!” said Lord Voraz. “You can't do business with a company that doesn't file its charter. It was granted three hundred two thousand, nine hundred sixty-one years ago by King Dith of Psychlo. Why, there's a copy of it– or was– on the wall of every Intergalactic Mining central compound. Required by law. I have read-'
The baron threw a copy of it on the table. “You should read the fine print.” He turned the copy around so Voraz could read it, though Voraz didn't bother to, knowing it almost by heart.
“Note this clause here,” said the baron, “Number 109: 'In the absence of a director or directors, the head of a planet owned by the said Intergalactic Mining Company shall have the power to make resolutions and his resolutions shall be binding.'
Lord Voraz shrugged. “Of course. They had only one additional planet then and the head of it was a royal prince. The directors at that time couldn't be bothered with business. I don't see-'
“But it is a valid clause,” said the baron.
“Right, right,” said Voraz. “But you are just delaying-”
“Now take this next clause,” said the baron. “Number 110: 'In time of emergency and/or threat to the company, and especially at a time of disaster, the head of a planet may dispose of company property.' Note that it is not further limited nor qualified.”
“Why should it be?” demanded Voraz. “It was the same royal prince. He wouldn't take the job away from home otherwise. He was afraid of communication cutoffs or palace revolutions. He could have been left out there holding a claw full of company bills. It was Prince Sco."
“But you agree,” said the baron, “that these are valid clauses.”
“When do I get to repossess this planet?” said Dries wearily. “Nothing in that charter will permit you to wriggle out of paying forty trillion credits!”
Lord Voraz corrected him, “Forty trillion, nine hundred sixty billion, two hundred seventeen million, six hundred five thousand, two hundred sixteen Galactic credits.”
“So there's nothing inaccurate in this royal charter,” persisted the baron.
“Of course not!” said Lord Voraz.
Baron von Roth and Andrew MacAdam looked at each other and laughed, startling the other two.
MacAdam reached down into the papers beside his chair and drew up a thick pack of documents. “This was fully signed and witnessed eleven months after the destruction of the planet Psychlo." He threw down the stack and it landed like a cannon shot.
It was all embossed with seals and glaring with huge official red ribbons and scarlet and gold discs.
It was the Terl contract! It sold in full the entirety of
Intergalactic Mining Company, all its equipment, assets, planets, and accounts.
MacAdam plopped another document on top of it. “Here is the attest by the last Planet Head of the company that this is a true and valid contract and it adds his total conveyance of the company. It was signed just a few days ago.”
Another paper was slapped down on top. “And here is the receipt and it says 'Paid in full.'
Dries and Lord Voraz stared, open-mouthed. They had never been that startled before in their whole eventful lives. Seconds went by.
Then, as one, they seized upon the pile and began to go through it. They read it. They looked for holes in it.
Finally Lord Voraz said in awe, “It’s valid all right. I even see that it was assigned by the legal government of this planet to the Earth Planetary Bank in payment for loans. Quite regular. Stand up in any court.”
But Dries shook his head. “To be legal and for it to be of any use to you in preventing the repossession, it would have to be recorded and put on file in the Hall of Legality on Snautch!"
“Oh, but it is, it is,” said the baron sweetly. And he drew the file copy of the Hall of Legality form from his pocket and threw it down. “Fully recorded just three days ago! In fact, it was the first thing I did when I got through the mobs!”
Dries had gotten over his shock. “It may give you planets and equipment. It might even give you collateral to borrow money on. However, the bank would take time to make the loan. And we wouldn't lend on top of an unpaid loan. The document simply proves that now you really owe the debt. I will have to demand instant cash-'