ASOC and its chairman, Jorg Bomin, viewed neither the attacks nor the attacker with equanimity. The corporation was the biggest in the system, and its assets were almost as great as the planetary assets of Aldebaran VII. If Cobart had been looking for an opponent worthy of his time and efforts, he couldn't have picked a better one.
Every day Bomin's stations, tapes and papers would attack Cobart and his policies. Every afternoon one
of Cobart's spokesmen would respond with varying degrees of hostility. The battle between the non-free press and the non-free government was reaching a fever pitch when Bomin called his board of directors into session.
He didn't make a very heroic picture, standing there before them. In an age where Man's average height was well over six feet, he barely reached five; in a society where a man's economic and social standing could usually be determined by the fashion of his clothes, he dressed more plainly than the most common of menials; in a profession where style was at least as important as substance, he was bald and underweight and spoke with a slight lisp. In fact, the only thing he had to recommend him was that he always delivered the goods.
He'd been delivering the goods for ASOC for quite some time now. Beginning as a lower-level executive, he had swiftly climbed to the top of the corporate ladder, stomping on as few sets of fingers as possible in the process. Once in full control, he had properly ascertained that tape and periodical distribution held the key to all nonvideo media, and had built up a system-wide distribution empire that rivaled ASOC's control of the airwaves. Never once did he allow ASOC to branch out into any non-media-related investments; excess capital, and there was a lot of it, was funneled back into existing corporate enterprises; more newspapers, more newstapes, more stations, more distributional outlets. ASOC and Bomin were totally self-sufficient entities, continually feeding on themselves, always growing but always controlled.
“Gentlemen,” he said, after taking a sip of water, “I won't mince words. The Coordinator has requested a private meeting with me tomorrow evening. There can be precious little doubt as to the subject matter of this interview. He will almost certainly threaten to nationalize ASOC. I will just as certainly refuse to yield to any threats he may make. Are there any questions?” He waited an appropriate length of time, and, when he had determined that no one had anything to say, he continued:
“I will assume that your silence can be taken to imply full support of my position. I had hoped for, and would have accepted, nothing less. However, you must realize that I cannot simply reject his demand and walk out. To do so would be totally ineffective, and would hardly be likely to improve our position. After all, he must know that my reaction will be negative just as surely as you knew it. Therefore, I feel that we can expect something in the nature of a threat to our continued existence. After all, if he can't own ASOC himself, his next step will doubtless be to destroy it.” “There's no legal way he can do it,” said one of the board members. “There was no legal way he could both try and sentence Pollart last week, but I notice that he seems to have accomplished it,” replied Bomin mildly. “We can go to the Oligarchy,” said another. “Indeed we can,” said Bomin. “However, if he denies his threat, how are we to prove otherwise? I have discarded the possibility of surreptitiously trying to record our conversation. I'm sure he has quite enough safeguards to prevent it. Are there any other suggestions?” He looked around the room. “No? Then since no one has anything further to suggest insofar as a defense or counterattack is concerned, I would like to know if the board will support whatever I find I must do or say during the meeting.” The various board members studied him intently. The old bird had something up his sleeve, that was for
sure; and it was just as sure that he had no intention of telling them what it was. He had allowed them to
offer what few ideas they may have had, shot them down, and now presented them with their only alternative: to trust him blindly and implicitly. They knew Cobart and they knew Bomin. It was a pretty easy choice: They gave Bomin a free hand to do as he wished. Which surprised him no more than did Cobart's latest attack on ASOC. His first act was to instruct his staff that no advance mention was to be made in the media of his meeting, nor was there to be any coverage of the meeting itself. Out of respect for the office of the Coordinator, though not the current officeholder, he showered and shaved before leaving. He was ushered into Cobart's office by a circuitous route. Then the door was closed behind him and he was alone in the huge, ornate room with the Coordinator. “I'll get right to the point,” said Cobart by way of greeting. “I want you and ASOC to get off my back.” “Easily done,” said Bomin with a smile. “Return the power you've illegally usurped from the people of the Aldebaran system.”
“That's just the kind of inflammatory remark I'm objecting to. If you know what's good for you, you'll stop taking potshots at my Administration.” “And that's just the kind of heavy-handed threat I object to, Mr. Cobart,” said Bomin. “Surely you didn't invite me here just to make it.”
“I didn't invite you at all,” said Cobart. “I commanded your presence.” “And I, having weighed the pros and cons, decided of my own free will to accept your invitation.” “Bomin, I've had enough of your rabble-rousing. Some of the statements you've made through ASOC amount to nothing less than treason.”
“Certainly not treason to the Oligarchy,” said Bomin mildly. “Or are you implying I've committed treason against the people of the Aldebaran system? Because if you are, then you have only to prefer charges formally and—”
“What would you say,” interrupted Cobart, “if I told you that it is within my constitutional power to nationalize ASOC?”
“First, that it is definitely not within your real or implied powers,” said Bomin, “and second, that your desire to do so anyway hardly comes as a surprise to me.” “I've only to say the word and ASOC will become an official government agency,” continued Cobart. “Oh, the courts will probably knock it down, and if they don't, the Oligarchy will. But knocking it down will take time—possibly a year, possibly more. By then the people would have heard both sides of the case, and most of your bright young men would have found nice secure jobs in other fields. Think about it, Bomin.”
“Oh, I assure you Ihave thought about it. Subtlety is not one of your more noteworthy qualities, Mr. Coordinator. We at ASOC foresaw this move long ago.” “I don't doubt that you did,” said Cobart. “Have you come up with any alternative solution which I
would consider satisfactory?”
“It's entirely possible that we have,” said Bomin. “You claim that we present your case unfairly, correct?” Cobart nodded. “What would be your response if, in exchange for your written promise never to raise the issue of nationalization of ASOC again, I promised you—also in writing, to be sure—that ASOC will give you equal time to present your side of the story? In other words, we will guarantee you one minute of air time for every minute we criticize you, one inch of newspaper column space for every anti-Cobart inch we run.”
Cobart rejected the offer, as Bomin had known he would do. Then came the clincher. “What if I further promised that for the three years prior to the next election, no section of the media owned by ASOC or any of its affiliates will criticize you or your Administration, either directly or by implication?”