“In that case, why should I understand it any more than you do?”
“I don’t know, but he asked me to give it to you. If you care to look at it, Chief, and say the word, I will go back and get rid of him one more time.”
“Well, then, let me see it,” said Amadiro, shaking his head. He glanced at it with distaste.
It read: “Ceterum censeo, delenda est Carthago.”
Amadiro read the message, glared up at Maloon, then turned his eyes back to the message. Finally, he said, “You must have looked at this, since you know it isn’t Galactic. Did you ask him what it meant?”
“Yes, I did, Chief. He said it was Latin, but that left me no wiser. He said you would understand. He is a very determined man and said he would sit there all day waiting till you read this.”
“What does he look like?”
“Thin. Serious. Probably humorless. Tall, but not quite as tall as you. Intense, deep-set eyes, thin lips.”
“How old is he?”
“From the texture of his skin, I should say four decades or so. He is very young.”
“In that case, we must make allowances for youth. Send him in.”
Cicis looked surprised. “You will see him?”
“I have just said so, haven’t I? Send him in.”
50
The young man entered the room in what was almost a march step. He stood there stiffly in front of the desk and said, “I thank you, sir, for agreeing to see me. May I have your permission to have my robots join me?”
Amadiro raised his eyebrows. “I would be pleased to see them. Would you permit me to keep mine with me?”
It had been many years since he had heard anyone mouth the old robot formula. It was one of those good old customs that sank into abeyance as the notion of formal politeness decayed and as it came to be taken more and more for granted that one’s personal robots were part of one’s self.
“Yes, sir,” said Mandamus and two robots entered. They did not do so, Amadiro noted, till permission had been given. They were new robots, clearly efficient, and showed all the signs of good workmanship.
“Your own design, Mr. Mandamus?” There was always some extra value in robots that were designed by their owners.
“Indeed, sir.”
“Then you are a roboticist?”
“Yes, sir. I have my degree from the University of Eons.”
“Working under—”
Mandamus said smoothly, “Not under Dr. Fastolfe, sir. Under Dr. Maskellnik.”
“Ah, but you are not a member of the Institute.”
“I have applied for entrance, sir.”
“I see.” Amadiro adjusted the papers on his desk and then said quickly, without looking up, “Where did you learn Latin?”
“I do not know Latin well enough to speak it or read it but I know enough about it to know that quotation and where to find it.”
“That in itself is remarkable. How does that come about?”
“I cannot devote every moment of my time to robotics, so I have my side interests. One of them is planetology, with particular reference to Earth. That led me to Earth’s history and culture.”
“That is not a popular study among Spacers.”
“No, sir, and that is too bad. One should always know one’s enemies—as you do, sir.”
“As I do?”
“Yes, sir. I believe you are acquainted with many aspects of Earth and are more learned in that respect than I am, for you have studied the subject longer.”
“How do you know that?”
“I have tried to learn as much about you as I can, sir.”
“Because I am another one of your enemies?”
“No, sir, but because I want to make you an ally.”
“Make me an ally? You plan to make use of me, then? Does it strike you that you are being a little impertinent?”
“No, sir, for I am sure you will want to be an ally of mine.”
Amadiro stared at him. “Nevertheless, it strikes me that you are being rather more than a little impertinent.—Tell me, do you understand this quotation you have found for me?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then translate it into Standard Galactic.”
“It says, ‘In my opinion, Carthage must be destroyed.’”
“And what does that mean, in your opinion?”
“The speaker was Marcus Porcius Cato, a senator of the Roman Republic, a political unit of ancient Earth. It had defeated its chief rival, Carthage, but had not destroyed it. Cato held that Rome could not be secure until Carthage was entirely destroyed—and eventually, sir, it was.”
“But what is Carthage to us, young man?”
“There are such things as analogies.”
“Which means?”
“That the Spacer worlds, too, have a chief rival that, in my opinion, must be destroyed.”
“Name the enemy.”
“The planet Earth, sir.”
Amadiro drummed his fingers very softly upon the desk before him. “And you want me to be your ally in such a project. You assume I will be happy and eager to be one.—Tell me, Dr. Mandamus, when have I ever said in any of my numerous speeches and writings on the subject that Earth must be destroyed?”
Mandamus’s thin lips tightened and his nostrils flared. “I am not here,” he said, “in an attempt to trap you into something that can be used against you. I have not been sent here by Dr. Fastolfe, or any of his party. Nor am I of his party. Nor do I attempt to say what is in your mind. I tell you only what is in my mind. In my opinion, Earth must be destroyed.”
“And how do you propose to destroy Earth? Do you suggest that we drop nuclear bombs on it until the blasts and radiation and dust clouds destroy the planet? Because, if so, how do you propose to keep avenging Settler ships from doing the same to Aurora and to as many of the other Spacer worlds as they can reach? Earth might have been blasted with impunity as recently as fifteen decades ago. It can’t be now.”
Mandamus looked revolted. “I have nothing like that in mind, Dr. Amadiro. I would not unnecessarily destroy human beings, even if they are Earthpeople. There is a way, however, in which Earth can be destroyed without necessarily killing its people wholesale—and there will be no retaliation.”
“You are a dreamer,” said Amadiro, “or perhaps not quite sane.”
“Let me explain.”
“No, young man. I have little time and because your quotation, which I understood perfectly well, piqued my curiosity, I have already allowed myself to spend too much of it on you.”
Mandamus stood up. “I understand, Dr. Amadiro, and I beg your pardon for taking up more of your time than you could afford. Think of what I have said, however, and if you should become curious, why not call upon me when you have more time to devote to me than you now have. Do not wait too long, however, for if I must, I will turn in other directions, for destroy Earth I will. I am frank with you, you see.”
The young man attempted a smile that stretched his thin cheeks without producing much of an effect on his face otherwise. He said, “Good-bye—and thank you again,” turned, and left.
Amadiro looked after him for a while thoughtfully, then touched a contact on the side of his desk.
“Maloon,” he said when Cicis entered, “I want that young man watched around the clock and I want to know everyone he speaks to—everyone. I want them all identified and I want them all questioned. Those whom I indicate are to be brought to me.—But, Maloon, everything must be done quietly and with an attitude of sweet and friendly persuasion. I am not yet master here, as you know.”
But he would be eventually. Fastolfe was thirty-six decades old and clearly failing and Amadiro was eight decades younger.