Poul Anderson: The Game of Empire

“And what will come of that?” Targovi mused.

Flandry spread his hands. “Who knows? We play the game move by move, and never see far ahead—the game of empire, of life, whatever you want to call it—and what the score will be when all the pieces at last go back into the box, who knows?”

He tossed off his drink, tossed away his cigarette, and stood up. “My friends,” he said, “dinner awaits. Let us go in together and rejoice in what we have.

“But first—” his glance swooped about—“I’d like to give you three some extra reason for rejoicing. Diana, Targovi … are you really heart-bent on faring out yonder? I’m prepared to arrange that for you, however you choose. Trader, explorer, scientist, artist, or, God help you, Intelligence operative—I can see to it that you get the schooling and the means you’ll need. I only ask that first you think hard about what you truly want.” The girl’s and the Tigery’s spirits fountained radiance.

“As for you, Father Axor,” Flandry went on, “if you wish, I’ll obtain adequate funding for your research. Shall I?”

“God bless you, whether you like it or not,” the Wodenite replied, ocean-deep. “What you endow goes beyond space or time.” He crossed his hands on his forelegs and smiled, as a being may who is winning salvation for himself and his beloved.