Free Foundation by Isaac Asimov

Weally, the govuhnment is sewiously considewing placing seveah westwictions upon the indiscwiminate use of nucleah powah—though that is not a thing for genewal publication, y’know.”
    “I understand,” said Hardin. “But what was wrong with the plant?”
    “Well, weally,” replied Lord Dorwin indifferently, “who knows? It had bwoken down some yeahs pweviously and it is thought that the weplacements and wepaiah wuhk wuh most infewiah. It is
so
difficult these days to find men who
weally
undahstand the moah technical details of ouah powah systems.” And he took a sorrowful pinch of snuff.
    “You realize,” said Hardin, “that the independent kingdoms of the Periphery have lost nuclear power altogether?”
    “Have they? I’m not at all suhpwised. Bahbawous planets—Oh, but my deah fellow, don’t call them independent. They ahn’t, y’know. The tweaties we’ve made with them ah pwoof positive of that. They acknowledge the soveweignty of the Empewah. They’d have to, of cohse, oah we wouldn’t tweat with them.”
    “That may be so, but they have considerable freedom of action.”
    “Yes, I suppose so. Considewable. But that scahcely mattahs. The Empiah is fah bettah off, with the Pewiphewy thwown upon its own wesoahces—as it is, moah oah less. They ahn’t any good to us, y’know.
Most
bahbawous planets. Scahcely civilized.”
    “They were civilized in the past. Anacreon was one of the richest of the outlying provinces. I understand it compared favorably with Vega itself.”
    “Oh, but, Hahdin, that was centuwies ago. You can scahcely dwaw conclusion fwom that. Things wah diffewent in the old gweat days. We ahn’t the men we used to be, y’know. But, Hahdin, come, you ah a most puhsistent chap. I’ve told you I simply won’t discuss business today. Doctah Piweme did pwepayah me foah you. He told me you would twy to badgah me, but I’m fah too old a hand foah that. Leave it foah next day.”
    And that was that.

5
    This was the second meeting of the Board that Hardin had attended, if one were to exclude the informal talks the Board members had had with the now-departed Lord Dorwin. Yet the mayor had a perfectly definite idea that at least one other, and possibly two or three, had been held, to which he had somehow never received an invitation.
    Nor, it seemed to him, would he have received notification of this one had it not been for the ultimatum.
    At least, it amounted to an ultimatum, though a superficial reading of the visigraphed document would lead one to suppose that it was a friendly interchange of greetings between two potentates.
    Hardin fingered it gingerly. It started off floridly with a salutation from “His Puissant Majesty, the King of Anacreon, to his friend and brother, Dr. Lewis Pirenne, Chairman of the Board of Trustees, of the Encyclopedia Foundation Number One,” and it ended even more lavishly with a gigantic, multicolored seal of the most involved symbolism.
    But it was an ultimatum just the same.
    Hardin said: “It turned out that we didn’t have much time after all—only three months. But little as it was, we threw it away unused. This thing here gives us a week. What do we do now?”
    Pirenne frowned worriedly. “There must be a loophole. It is absolutely unbelievable that they would push matters to extremities in the face of what Lord Dorwin has assured us regarding the attitude of the Emperor and the Empire.”
    Hardin perked up. “I see. You have informed the King of Anacreon of this alleged attitude?”
    “I did—after having placed the proposal to the Board for a vote and having received unanimous consent.”
    “And when did this vote take place?”
    Pirenne climbed onto his dignity. “I do not believe I am answerable to you in any way, Mayor Hardin.”
    “All right. I’m not that vitally interested. It’s just my opinion that it was your diplomatic transmission of Lord Dorwin’s valuable contribution to the situation”—he lifted the corner of his