Korell is that frequent phenomenon in history: the republic whose ruler hasevery attribute of the  absolute monarch but the name. It therefore enjoyedthe usual despotism unrestrained even by those two moderating influences inthe   legitimate   monarchies:   regal   "honor"   and   court   etiquette.
Materially,  its prosperity  was low.  The day  of the Galactic  Empire haddeparted,  with  nothing  but silent  memorials  and  broken structures  totestify to  it. The  day of the  Foundation had not  yet come ? and in thefierce determination of its  ruler, the Commdor Asper Argo, with his strictregulation of the traders and his stricter prohibition of the missionaries,it was never coming.
The spaceport itself was decrepit and decayed, and the crew of the Far Starwere drearily  aware of  that. The moldering  hangars made for  a molderingatmosphere  and Jaim  Twer  itched and  fretted over  a game  of solitaire.
Hober  Mallow  said  thoughtfully, "Good  trading  material  here." He  wasstaring quietly out the  viewport. So far, there was little else to be saidabout Korell. The trip here was uneventful. The squadron of Korellian shipsthat had shot  out to intercept the Far Star  had been tiny, limping relicsof  ancient glory  or  battered, clumsy  hulks. They  had  maintained theirdistance fearfully,  and still maintained it, and  for a week now, Mallow'srequests for an audience  with the local go government had been unanswered.
Mallow repeated, "Good trading here. You might call this virgin territory."Jaim Twer looked up impatiently, and threw his cards aside, "What the devildo  you  intend  doing,  Mallow? The  crew's  grumbling,  the officers  areworried, and I抦 wondering?
"Wondering? About what?""About the situation. And about you. What are we doing?""Waiting."The old  trader snorted and grew  red. He growled, "You're  going it blind,Mallow.  There's a  guard around  the field  and there are  ships overhead.
Suppose  they're getting  ready  to blow  us into  a  hole in  the ground.""They've had a week.""Maybe  they're waiting  for  reinforcements." Twer's  eyes were  sharp andhard.
Mallow sat  down abruptly,  "Yes, I'd thought  of that You see,  it poses apretty problem. First, we  got here without trouble. That may mean nothing,however,  for  only three  ships  out  of better  than  three hundred  wenta-glimmer last year. The percentage is low. But that may mean also that thenumber of  their ships equipped with nuclear power  is small, and that theydare   not    expose   them   needlessly,   until    that   number   grows.
"But  it could  mean, on the  other hand,  that they haven't  nuclear powerafter all. Or maybe  they have and are keeping undercover, for fear we knowsomething. It's  one thing, after all,  to piratize blundering, light-armedmerchant ships. It's another to fool around with an accredited envoy of theFoundation when  the mere fact of  his presence may mean  the Foundation isgrowing suspicious.
"Combine this?
"Hold  on, Mallow,  hold  on." Twer  raised his  hands. "You're  just aboutdrowning me with talk. What're you getting at? Never mind the in-betweens.""You've got  to have the in-betweens, or  you won't understand, Twer. We'reboth waiting.  They don't  know what I'm  doing here and I  don't know whatthey've  got here.  But  I'm in  the weaker  position  because I'm  one andthey're an entire world ?maybe with atomic power. I can't afford to be theone to weaken. Sure  it's dangerous. Sure there may be a hole in the groundwaiting for us. But we knew that from the start. What else is there to do?""I don't?Who's that, now?"Mallow looked  up patiently,  and tuned the receiver.  The visiplate glowedinto the craggy face of the watch sergeant.
"Speak, sergeant."The sergeant  said, "Pardon, sir. The men have  given entry to a Foundationmissionary.""A what?" Mallow's face grew livid.
"A   missionary,   sit.   He's    in   need   of   hospitalization,   sir-""There'll be  more than  one in need  of that, sergeant, for  this piece ofwork. Order the men to battle stations."Crew's lounge was almost  empty. Five minutes after the order, even the menon the off-shift were at their guns. It was speed that was the great virtuein the anarchic regions  of the interstellar space of the Periphery, and itwas  in  speed  above  all that  the  crew  of  a  master trader  excelled.
Mallow entered  slowly, and stared  the missionary up and  down and around.
His eye slid to  Lieutenant Tinter, who shifted uneasily to one side and toWatch-Sergeant Demen, whose blank face and stolid figure flanked the other.
The  Master Trader  turned to  Twer and  paused thoughtfully,  "Well, then,Twer, get  the officers here quietly, except  for the co-ordinators and thetrajectorian.  The men  are  to remain  at stations  till  further orders."There was  a five-minute hiatus, in  which Mallow kicked open  the doors tothe  lavatories, looked  behind the  bar, pulled  the draperies  across thethick windows.  For half a minute he left the  room altogether, and when hereturned he was humming abstractedly.
Men   filed   in.   Twer   followed,   and  closed   the   door   silently.
Mallow said  quietly, "First, who let this man  in without orders from me?"The watch sergeant stepped forward. Every eye shifted. "Pardon, sir. It wasno definite  person. It was a  sort of mutual agreement.  He was one of us,you might say, and these foreigners here?
Mallow  cut him  short,  "I sympathize  with your  feelings,  sergeant, andunderstand   them.   These   men,    were   they   under   your   command?""Yes, sir.""When this  is over,  they're to be  confined to individual  quarters for aweek. You  yourself are  relieved of all  supervisory duties for  a similarperiod. Understood?"The sergeant's face never changed, but there was the slightest droop to hisshoulders. He said, crisply, "Yes, sir.""You may leave. Get to your gun-station."The door closed behind him and the babble rose.
Twer broke in, "Why  the punishment, Mallow? You know that these Korellianskill captured missionaries.""An action against my  orders is bad in itself whatever other reasons theremay  be  in its  favor. No  one  was to  leave  or enter  the ship  withoutpermission."Lieutenant Tinter  murmured rebelliously,  "Seven days without  action. Youcan't maintain discipline that way."Mallow  said icily,  "I  can. There's  no merit  in discipline  under idealcircumstances. I'll have it  in the face of death, or it's useless. Where'sthis missionary? Get him here in front of me."The trader sat down, while the scarlet-cloaked figure was carefully broughtforward.
"What's your name, reverend?""Eh?"  The  scarlet-robed figure  wheeled  towards Mallow,  the whole  bodyturning as a unit. His eyes were blankly open and there was a bruise on onetemple. He  had not spoken, nor, as far as  Mallow could tell, moved duringall the previous interval.
"Your name, revered one?"The missionary  started to  sudden feverish life.  His arms went  out in anembracing  gesture.  "My son  ? my  children. May  you  always  be in  theprotecting arms of the Galactic Spirit."Twer stepped forward, eyes troubled, voice husky, "The man's sick. Take himto  bed, somebody. Order  him to bed,  Mallow, and  have him seen  to. He'sbadly hurt."Mallow's great  arm shoved him  back, "Don't interfere, Twer,  or I'll haveyou out of the room. Your name, revered one?"The  missionary's  hands  clasped  in  sudden  supplication,  "As  you  areenlightened men, save me from the heathen." The words tumbled out, "Save mefrom these  brutes and darkened ones  who raven after me  and would afflictthe Galactic Spirit with  their crimes. I am Jord Parma, of the Anacreonianworlds. Educated  at the Foundation; the  Foundation itself, my children. Iam a  Priest of the Spirit  educated into all the  mysteries, who have comehere where the inner  voice called me." He was gasping. "I have suffered atthe hands  of the unenlightened. As you a............