It had been colonized thirteen centuries ago, during the
last burst of expansion before the System States War and the
disintegration of the Terran Federation, and it had been named Aditya,
in the fashion of the times, for some forgotten deity of some obscure
and ancient polytheism. A century or so later, it had seceded from or
been abandoned by the Federation, then breaking up. That much they had
gleaned from old Federation records still existing on Baldur. After
that, darkness, lighted only by a brief flicker when more records had
turned up on Morglay.

Morglay was one of the Sword-Worlds, settled by refugee rebels from the
System States planets. Mostly they had been soldiers and spacemen; there
had been many women with them, and many were skilled technicians,
engineers, scientists. They had managed to carry off considerable
equipment with them, and for three centuries they had lived in
isolation, spreading over a dozen hitherto undiscovered planets.
Excalibur, Tizona, Gram, Morglay, Durendal, Flamberge, Curtana,
Quernbiter; the names were a roll-call of fabulous blades of Old Terran
legend.

Then they had erupted, suddenly and calamitously, into what was left of
the Terran Federation as the Space Vikings, carrying pillage and
destruction, until the newborn Empire rose to vanquish them. In the
sixth Century Pre-Empire, one of their fleets had come from Morglay to
Aditya.

The Adityans of that time had been near-barbarians; the descendants of
the original settlers had been serfs of other barbarians who had come as
mercenaries in the service of one or another of the local chieftains and
had remained to loot and rule. Subjugating them had been easy; the Space
Vikings had taken Aditya and made it their home. For several centuries,
there had been communication between them and their home planet. Then
Morglay had become involved in one of the interplanetary dynastic wars
that had begun the decadence of the Space Vikings, and again Aditya
dropped out of history.

Until this morning, when history returned in the black ships of the
Galactic Empire.

* * * * *

He stubbed out the cigarette and summoned the robot to give him another.
Shatrak was speaking:

"You see, Count Erskyll, we really had to do it this way, for their own
good." He wouldn't have credited the commodore with such guile; anything
was justified, according to Obray of Erskyll, if done for somebody
else's good. "What we did