Foundation's Edge (43 page)

“Nonsense,” said Trevize violently. “Janov, you want a nonhuman intelligence and you will have one. Right now, I think that if you thought you were going to encounter nonhumans, you wouldn’t worry about having been captured, about being helpless, about being killed even—if they but gave you a little time to sate your curiosity.”

Pelorat began to stutter an indignant negative, then stopped, drew a deep breath, and said, “Well, you may be right, Golan, but I’ll hold to my belief for a while just the same. I don’t think we’ll have to wait very long to see who’s right. —Look!”

He pointed to the screen. Trevize—who had, in his excitement, ceased watching—now looked back. “What is it?” he said.

“Isn’t that a ship taking off from the station?”

“It’s something,” admitted Trevize reluctantly. “I can’t make out the details yet and I can’t magnify the view any further. It’s at maximum magnification.” After awhile he said, “It seems to be approaching us and I suppose it’s a ship. Shall we make a bet?”

“What sort of bet?”

Trevize said sardonically, “If we ever get back to Terminus, let’s have a big dinner for ourselves and any guests we each care to invite, up to, say, four—and it will be on me if that ship approaching us carries nonhumans and on you if it carries humans.”

“I’m willing,” said Pelorat.

“Done, then,” and Trevize peered at the screen, trying to make out details and wondering if any details could reasonably be expected to give away, beyond question, the nonhumanity (or humanity) of the beings on board.

Branno’s iron-gray hair lay immaculately in place and she might have been in the Mayoral Palace, considering her equanimity. She showed no sign that she was deep in space for only the second time in her life. (And the first time—when she accompanied her parents on a holiday tour to Kalgan—could scarcely count. She had been only three at the time.)

She said to Kodell with a certain weary heaviness, “It is Thoobing’s job, after all, to express his opinion and to warn me. Very well, he has warned me. I don’t hold it against him.”

Kodell, who had boarded the Mayor’s ship in order to speak to her without the psychological difficulty of imaging, said, “He’s been at his post too long. He’s beginning to think like a Sayshellian.”

“That’s the occupational hazard of an ambassadorship, Liono. Let us wait till this is over and we’ll give him a long sabbatical and then send him on to another assignment elsewhere. He’s a capable man.

—After all, he did have the wit to forward Trevize’s message without delay.”

Kodell smiled briefly. “Yes, he told me he did it against his better judgment. ‘I do so because I must’ he said. You see, Madam Mayor, he had to, even against his better judgment, because as soon as Trevize entered the space of the Sayshell Union, I informed Ambassador Thoobing to forward, at once, any and all information concerning him?’

“Oh?” Mayor Branno turned in her seat to see his face more clearly. “And what made you do that?”

“Elementary considerations, actually. Trevize was using a latemodel Foundation naval vessel and the Sayshellians would be bound to notice that. He’s an undiplomatic young jackass and they would be bound to notice that. Therefore, he might get into trouble—and if there’s one thing a Foundationer knows, it is that if he gets into trouble anywhere in the Galaxy, he can cry out for the nearest Foundation representative. Personally I wouldn’t mind seeing Trevize in trouble—it might help him grow up and that would do him a great deal of good—but you’ve sent him out as your lightning rod and I wanted you to be able to estimate the nature of any lightning that might strike, so I made sure that the nearest Foundation representative would keep watch over him, that’s all.”

“I see! Well, I understand now why Thoobing reacted so strenuously. I had sent him a similar warning. Since he heard from us both independently, one can scarcely blame him for thinking that the approach of a few Foundation vessels might mean a great deal more than it actually does. —How is it, Liono, you did not consult me on the matter before sending the warning?”

Kodell said coolly, “If I involved you in everything I do, you would have no time to be Mayor. How is it that you did not inform me of your intention?”

Branno said sourly, “If I informed you of all my intentions, Liono, you would know far too much. —But it is a small matter, and so is Thoobing’s alarm, and, for that matter, so is any fit that the Sayshellians throw. I am more interested in Trevize.”

“Our scouts have located Compor. He is following Trevize and both are moving very cautiously toward Gaia.”

“I have the full reports of those scouts, Liono. Apparently both Trevize and Compor are taking Gaia seriously.”

“Everyone sneers at the superstitions concerning Gaia, Madam Mayor, but everyone thinks, ‘Yet what if—’ Even Ambassador Thoobing manages to be a little uneasy about it. It could be a very shrewd policy on the part of the Sayshellians. A kind of protective coloration. If one spreads stories of a mysterious and invincible world, people will shy away not only from the world, but from any other worlds close by—such as the Sayshell Union.”

“You think that is why the Mule turned away from Sayshell?”

“Possibly.”

“Surely you don’t think the Foundation has held its hand from Sayshell because of Gaia, when there is no record that we have ever heard of the world?”

“I admit there’s no mention of Gaia in our archives, but neither is there any other reasonable explanation for our moderation with respect to the Sayshell Union.”

“Let us hope, then, that the Sayshellian government, despite Thoobing’s opinion to the contrary, has convinced itself—even just a little bit-of Gaia’s might and of its deadly nature.”

“Why so?”

“Because then the Sayshell Union will raise no objections to our moving toward Gaia. The more they resent that movement, the more they will persuade themselves that it should be permitted so that Gaia will swallow us. The lesson, they will imagine, will be a salutary one and will not be lost on future invaders.”

“Yet what if they should be right in such a belief, Mayor? What if Gaia is deadly?”

Branno smiled. “You raise the ‘Yet what if—’ yourself, do you, Liono?”

“I must raise all possibilities, Mayor. It is my job.”

“If Gaia is deadly, Trevize will be taken by them. That is his job as my lightning rod. And so may Compor, I hope.”

“You hope? Why?”

“Because it will make them overconfident, which should be useful to us. They will underestimate our power and be the easier to handle.”

“But what if it is we who are overconfident?”

“We are not,” said Branno flatly.

“These Gaians—whatever they are—may be something we have no concept of and cannot properly estimate the danger of. I merely suggest that, Mayor, because even that possibility should be weighed.”

“Indeed? Why does such a notion fall into your head, Liono?”

“Because I think you feel that, at the worst, Gaia is the Second Foundation. I suspect you think they are the Second Foundation. However, Sayshell has an interesting history, even under the Empire. Sayshell alone had a measure of self-rule. Sayshell alone was spared some of the worst taxations under the so-called ‘Bad Emperors.’ In short, Sayshell seems to have had the protection of Gaia, even in Imperial times.”

“Well then?”

“But the Second Foundation was brought into existence by Hari Seldon at the same time our Foundation was. The Second Foundation did not exist in Imperial times—and Gaia did. Gaia, therefore,

is not the Second Foundation. It is something else—and, just possibly, something worse.”

“I don’t propose to be terrified by the unknown, Liono. There are only two possible sources of danger—physical weapons and mental weapons—and we are fully prepared for both. —You get back to your ship and keep the units on the Sayshellian outskirts. This ship will move toward Gaia alone, but will stay in contact with you at all times and will expect you to come to us in one Jump, if necessary.  —Go, Liono, and get that perturbed look off your face.”

“One last question? Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“I do,” she said grimly. “I, too, have studied the history of Sayshell and have seen that Gaia cannot be the Second Foundation, but, as I told you, I have the full report of the scouts and from that—”

“Yes?”

“Well, I know where the Second Foundation is located and we will take care of both, Liono. We will take care of Gaia first and then Trantor.”

GAIA

IT TOOK HOURS FOR THE SKIP FROM THE SPACE STATION TO REACH THE vicinity of the Far Star—very long hours for Trevize to endure.

Had the situation been normal, Trevize would have tried to signal and would have expected a response. If there had been no response, he would have taken evasive action.

Since he was unarmed and there had been no response, there was nothing to do but wait. The computer would not respond to any direction he could give it that involved anything outside the ship.

Internally, at least, everything worked well. The life-support systems were in perfect order, so that he and Pelorat were physically comfortable. Somehow, that didn’t help. Life dragged on and the uncertainty of what was to come was wearing him down. He noticed with irritation that Pelorat seemed calm. As though to make it worse, while Trevize felt no sense of hunger at all, Pelorat opened a small container of chicken-bits, which on opening had rapidly and automatically warmed itself. Now he was eating it methodically.

Trevize said irritably, “Space, Janov! That stinks!”

Pelorat looked startled and sniffed at the container. “It smells all right to me, Golan.”

Trevize shook his head. “Don’t mind me. I’m just upset. But do use a fork. Your fingers will smell of chicken all day.”

Pelorat looked at his fingers with surprise. “Sorry! I didn’t notice. I was thinking of something else.”

Trevize said sarcastically, “Would you care to guess at what type of nonhumans the creatures on the approaching ship must be?” He was ashamed that he was less calm than Pelorat was. He was a Navy veteran (though he had never seen battle, of course) and Pelorat was a historian. Yet his companion sat there quietly.

Pelorat said, “It would be impossible to imagine what direction evolution would take under conditions differing from those of Earth. The possibilities may not be infinite, but they would be so vast that they might as well be. However, I can predict that they are not senselessly violent and they will treat us in a civilized fashion. If that wasn’t true, we would be dead by now.”

“At least you can still reason, Janov, my friend—you can still be tranquil. My nerves seem to be forcing their way through whatever tranquilization they have put us under. I have an extraordinary desire to stand up and pace. Why doesn’t that blasted ship arrive?”

Pelorat said, “I am a man of passivity, Golan. I have spent my life doubled over records while waiting for other records to arrive. I do nothing but wait. You are a man of action and you are in deep pain when action is impossible.”

Trevize felt some of his tension leave. He muttered, “I underestimate your good sense, Janov.”

“No, you don’t,” said Pelorat placidly, “but even a naïve academic can sometimes make sense out of life.”

“And even the cleverest politician can sometimes fail to do so.”

“I didn’t say that, Golan.” -

“No, but I did. —So let me become active. I can still observe. The approaching ship is close enough to seem distinctly primitive.”

“Seem?”

Trevize said, “If it’s the product of nonhuman minds and hands, what may seem primitive may, in actual fact, be merely nonhuman.”

“Do you think it might be a nonhuman artifact?” asked Pelorat, his face reddening slightly.

“I can’t tell. I suspect that artifacts, however much they may vary from culture to culture, are never quite as plastic as products of genetic differences might be.”

“That’s just a guess on your part. All we know are different cultures. We don’t know different intelligent species and therefore have no way of judging how different artifacts might be.”

“Fish, dolphins, penguins, squids, even the ambiflexes, which are not of Earthly origin—assuming the others are—all solve the problem of motion through a viscous medium by streamlining, so that their appearances are not as different as their genetic makeup might lead one to believe. It might be so with artifacts.”

“The squid’s tentacles and the ambiflex’s helical vibrators,” responded Pelorat, “are enormously different from each other, and from the fins, flippers, and limbs of vertebrates. It might be so with artifacts.”

“In any case,” said Trevize, “I feel better. Talking nonsense with you, Janov, quiets my nerves. And I suspect we’ll know what we’re getting into soon, too. The ship is not going to be able to dock with ours and whatever is on it will come across on an old-fashioned tether—or we will somehow be urged to cross to it on one—since the unilock will be useless. —Unless some nonhuman will use some other system altogether.”

“How big is the ship?”

“Without being able to use the ship’s computer to calculate the distance of the ship by radar, we can’t possibly know the size.”

A tether snaked out toward the Far Star.

Trevize said, “Either there’s a human aboard or nonhumans use the same device. Perhaps nothing but a tether can possibly work.”

“They might use a tube,” said Pelorat, “or a horizontal ladder.”

“Those are inflexible things. It would be far too complicated to try to make contact with those. You need something that combines strength and flexibility.”

The tether made a dull clang on the Far Star as the solid hull (and consequently the air within) was set to vibrating. There was the usual slithering as the other ship made the fine adjustments of speed required to bring the two into a common velocity. The tether was motionless relative to both.

A black dot appeared on the hull of the other ship and expanded like the pupil of an eye.

Trevize grunted. “An expanding diaphragm, instead of a sliding panel.”