Foundation (35 page)

“
You knew he must have used a telepath, so you got your own: Gromer. It wasn’t too complicated, Jarva had shared with you his finds when he was allowed in Credence. You had to punish him, you needed to make an example of him, but you needed to do it in such a way that Jarva’s telepath took all the blame. You always knew about Faith, Gromer told you. You had Gromer duplicate Faith’s toy doll so all clues led to her. And it was also Gromer, according to your orders, who tried to kill me and Faith on the freeway.”

Benedict nodded in agreement at all of Trumaine’s statements, then looked into the distance, at the blazing disc of the sun.

Inside it, towering flames a hundred thousand miles high danced savagely, throbbing and flaring, lunging at each other like immense battling dragons; they burned down and then again were reborn, flaming eternally—like phoenixes. It was both overwhelming and exhilarating, a prelude and warning to what the long mercurial morning would have been.

“
You’ve done a good job, Detective,” said Benedict. “You deserve that citizenship. Pity you won’t live long enough to enjoy it.”

Sucking on the last pockets of air trapped in their suits, the two studied each other in absolute silence—they would be dead in a couple of minutes now and they both knew it—

“
You’re wrong ...”

The words had come from Trumaine’s mouth, sounding as casual and negligible as a remark about the weather, but they were as solid and inescapable as the steel rods of a cage that’s being slammed shut on a cunning prey.

Benedict was stunned—as the seconds crawled by, his brain whirred like mad, trying to call Trumaine’s bluff—but he couldn’t.

Aware of the trap he had fallen into, Benedict leaped to his feet and, using his last strength, he ran.

Trumaine lost no time and chased after him with a tired groan—it was the surreal, awkward race of two octogenarians lost in a boundless, alien land.

Benedict bolted toward a previously unseen crest that ended abruptly in a vertiginous drop off: the rock face fell for more than a mile, before it met a massive basalt plate buried in dust. Benedict stood on the edge of the cliff for a moment, considering what was best for him. He peeked over his shoulder at Trumaine, who was approaching fast and ... stepped over.

“
NOOO!” cried Trumaine, as Benedict plummeted.

With a running jump, Trumaine vaulted over after him, catching him in mid-air. Clinging to each other, they fell in the almost endless drop.

As they went, the sun finally rose, chasing away the shadows where falling Trumaine and Benedict hid, burning everything behind them. The higher the sun got in the sky, the quicker the shadows receded, slipping away from around them—soon, even the last finger of darkness shielding them from the scorching sun vanished, leaving them exposed to the daylight.

With a glare full of dread, Trumaine and Benedict realized that their suits were overheating—they saw them smoke—soon, they would burn inside them.

Benedict looked through the visor of his helmet at Trumaine. “You have been a decent adversary,” he conceded.

“
Fuck you, old bastard! I’m not going to die with you!” shouted Trumaine, angrily. Then he looked up at the mercurial sky and cried out loud:

“
MATTHEWS!? CAN YOU HEAR ME? YOU BETTER BRING US BACK NOW! THERE’S NO WAKING FROM THIS ONE!”

Benedict grinned at seeing the bottom of the pit approach at mind-boggling speed. It was a little consolation but, at least, his worthy adversary was going to be destroyed with him.

“
MATTHEWS! WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU? M-A-A-A-T-T-H-E-E-E-W-S-S-S!”

Trumaine’s eyes opened wide at seeing that his sizzling suit had started to crumple and crack—even his helmet was fissuring now—he could hear the last air hiss through it ...

That really was it—

One second before they hit the basalt floor of the canyon and were reduced to a pulp ... they vanished.

Trumaine’s and Benedict’s tangled bodies flickered and materialized in a mysterious whiteness; the spacesuits that had been shiny and golden no more than fifteen minutes before, were now dull and blackened, billowing from the many holes and rips in them, through which the still smoldering layers of reflective metal and combusted insulating fabric could be glimpsed.

Trumaine and Benedict didn’t dare to move; they just stood there, enjoying the comfort of the new environment, because it was cool and it contained air.

As Trumaine’s eyes grew accustomed to the brightness, he realized they were back at Credence. In fact, this must be the huge test room where he had seen the fresh believers summon the large barbed palm along with its ill-fated scaled salamander.

A movement from beneath him reminded Trumaine he was still slumped across Benedict—he was squirming under the detective’s body, trying to extricate himself.

Trumaine rolled aside and they both lay on their backs; they drew long, replenishing gulps of air for a while then, when they had enough, they made an attempt at sitting up—

And found themselves looking into the aimed muzzles of five high-powered tasers held by the same number of heavily armed guards. Four more grabbed them unceremoniously underarm and jerked them up from the floor.

The guards worked quickly around the self-sealing seams of their cracked helmets, taking them off.

Trumaine, flushed and covered in sweat, blinked his eyes and grinned, happy to be still alive. He shot a glance at Benedict, whose head was just then being freed—he too was dripping sweat, but he didn’t look as happy.

In moments, what remained of their spacesuits was removed; the guards took out a sweaty and exhausted Benedict, and marched him away without a word.

Trumaine too was helped out of his spacesuit trousers and boots.

When he looked up, he was met by Firrell’s welcoming smile. Matthews stood beside him, her hands clutching her inseparable pad.

“
You got his confession?” Trumaine asked her.

Matthews rewarded him with a vague nod of assent.

“
We got it all!” said Firrell cheerfully, slapping his large hand on Trumaine’s back.

“
I hope this thing is really over now, Tru. I don’t think my nerves can take any more of it.”

He let out an apologizing grunt.

“
I’m sorry we made it so late, but the Feds took years to authorize Mercury.”

Trumaine didn’t complain or anything—his face had frozen to a smug grimace.

As usual, the canteen was filled with diners eating and chattering blissfully.

Trumaine sat at a table across from Firrell, sipping from a glass of water, hydrating himself. He had just repeated for the hundredth time what had happened from the moment he and Benedict had left the bottom of the chamber, to the moment they had found themselves back in the test room. Unfortunately for Benedict, he had understood too late it wasn’t Faith that had sent them to Mercury, but a special feed issued by the
TSA
, in agreement with the Federal Authority, based on Trumaine’s personal request through his disbelieving captain.

“
Jesus. This is the craziest story I’ve ever heard,” said Firrell.

“
Yes, it truly is,” admitted Trumaine.

It all looked simple now that everything was solved.

Gromer had convinced the believers in the feed to flush Benedict in Jarva’s bunker, where he had killed both Aarmo and Raili, then Benedict had been flushed back to Credence. When Trumaine had first come to Credence, it was Benedict who had suggested the crawler to him; even if he had said he considered it a remote possibility, it was all part of Benedict’s plan to frame Faith.

Because, at that point, he already knew about her; he just needed Trumaine to arrest her for a crime she didn’t commit—unless bringing Raili Jarva back to life was a crime.

Thank God all was finished now.

Trumaine sipped some more water. He rolled it over his tongue as if it were an expensive wine—it tasted sweet and fresh and he felt like he could have drank a barrel.

Trumaine looked over Firrell’s shoulder and glimpsed Faith in the distance, sitting at her usual table in the corner—she was lost among the dining believers, talking with an unseen someone.

“
What are we going to do with Faith?”

“
She will be released, of course,” said Firrell. “But she’s a telepath, I’m afraid she can’t work in Credence anymore. If you ask me, she’d better keep her mouth shut about her skills if she wants to find another job.”

“
I will tell her.”

They stood.

“
You’ve done a good job,” said Firrell. “Don’t forget to bring my well wishes to Starsha ...”

“
I won’t.”

“
Maybe, one day, we shall work together again.”

“
Maybe.”

Trumaine reached out and they shook hands.

With one last nod, Firrell left. He trudged around the crowded tables with some difficulty, until he got out of the canteen.

He was a good captain, thought Trumaine.

“
What did he tell you?” a voice asked suddenly.

It was Faith’s, of course.

He turned to see her—now that most of her worries were gone, she looked as cheerful and easygoing as on the day he first met her.

“
So?” she asked.

“
Don’t you know already?”

“
Why don’t you tell me in your own words?”

Trumaine took a deep breath.

“
Now that everybody knows that you’re a telepath, you won’t be allowed in the chamber anymore; you’re too dangerous.”

“
Well, that’s fine with me,” said Faith with a shrug.

“
Really? What are you going to do now?”

“
I’ll find another job.”

The two glanced into each other’s eyes. Trumaine didn’t fear her anymore; he was aware she could look into him and know everything there was to be known about him. In the beginning, it felt odd and uncomfortable, but now that he had gotten used to it, he could accept it.

“
You took the punch card from Jimmy Boyd’s apartment, didn’t you?”

“
It was the only safe way for us to talk to Jarva without Benedict knowing,” explained Faith.

“
And it was you again, in the Meteor ’55.”

Faith pouted and nodded her head, like a little girl, regretting what she had done.

“
I’m sorry. Back then, I didn’t know whom I should trust.”

“
Christ, I almost broke my neck against that pillar.”

Trumaine didn’t realize, but his hand had climbed to his forehead, stroking the point where he had hit it.

Faith smiled sadly.

“
I better be on my way now,” said Trumaine.

She got close to him, stepped on her toes and pecked him on the cheek.

“
Thank you,” she said.

Trumaine didn’t need to be a telepath to know the many untold things that lay behind that little token of fondness. Maybe, he thought, if he and Starshanna hadn’t—But he couldn’t finish the sentence; that would never happen and they both knew it.

With one last nod, Trumaine turned away.

Faith bit her lip and sighed at seeing him go.

Three fresh believers sat at the table in the corner, intent on eating their lunch, wearing the characteristic yellow suits that stood for their skills.

Benedict’s nose had been right about them. In fact, they were the same three applicants he had singled out four days before, when he had first met Trumaine—they were the farmyard, muscled young man with the blond hair, the young woman with the small nose and the pointy chin and the beautiful athletic woman with black opals for eyes.

Since they had achieved unprecedented marks in the belief test, they had been promoted to apprentice believers that same day; two more days was all it had taken them to achieve outstanding results in the selections for becoming fresh believers.

They had gone through the final test that same morning, so they could now wear the yellow suit of the fresh believers. Should they continue performing this well, in another month or two they were going to don the spotless white suit of the full believers and they would finally be admitted in the chamber.