Prelude to Foundation (18 page)

In the elevator, vapors were rising from the wrapped Seldon as the blanket warmed to blood temperature.

Dors said, “Once we have him in his room, Dr. Leggen, you get a doctor—a good one—and see that he comes at once. If Dr. Seldon gets through this without harm, I won’t say anything, but
only
if he does. Remember—”

“You needn’t lecture me,” said Leggen coldly. “I regret this and I will do what I can, but my only fault was in allowing this man to come Upperside in the first place.”

The blanket stirred and a low, weak voice made itself heard.

Benastra started, for Seldon’s head was cradled in the crook of his elbow. He said, “He’s trying to say something.”

Dors said, “I know. He said, ‘What’s going on?’ ”

She couldn’t help but laugh just a little. It seemed such a normal thing to say.

The doctor was delighted.

“I’ve never seen a case of exposure,” he explained. “One doesn’t get exposed on Trantor.”

“That may be,” said Dors coldly, “and I’m happy you have the chance to experience this novelty, but
does it mean that you do not know how to treat Dr. Seldon?”

The doctor, an elderly man with a bald head and a small gray mustache, bristled. “Of course, I do. Exposure cases on the Outer Worlds are common enough—an everyday affair—and I’ve read a great deal about them.”

Treatment consisted in part of an antiviral serum and the use of a microwave wrapping.

“This ought to take care of it,” the doctor said. “On the Outer Worlds, they make use of much more elaborate equipment in hospitals, but we don’t have that, of course, on Trantor. This is a treatment for mild cases and I’m sure it will do the job.”

Dors thought later, as Seldon was recovering without particular injury, that it was perhaps because he was an Outworlder that he had survived so well. Dark, cold, even snow were not utterly strange to him. A Trantorian probably would have died in a similar case, not so much from physical trauma as from psychic shock.

She was not sure of this, of course, since she herself was not a Trantorian either.

And, turning her mind away from these thoughts, she pulled up a chair near to Hari’s bed and settled down to wait.

On the second morning Seldon stirred awake and looked up at Dors, who sat at his bedside, viewing a book-film and taking notes.

In a voice that was almost normal, Seldon said, “Still here, Dors?”

She put down the book-film. “I can’t leave you alone, can I? And I don’t trust anyone else.”

“It seems to me that every time I wake up, I see you. Have you been here all the time?”

“Sleeping or waking, yes.”

“But your classes?”

“I have an assistant who has taken over for a while.”

Dors leaned over and grasped Hari’s hand. Noticing his embarrassment (he was, after all, in bed), she removed it.

“Hari, what happened? I was so frightened.”

Seldon said, “I have a confession to make.”

“What is it, Hari?”

“I thought perhaps you were part of a conspiracy—”

“A
conspiracy
?” she said vehemently.

“I mean, to maneuver me Upperside where I’d be outside University jurisdiction and therefore subject to being picked up by Imperial forces.”

“But Upperside isn’t outside University jurisdiction. Sector jurisdiction on Trantor is from the planetary center to the sky.”

“Ah, I didn’t know that. But you didn’t come with me because you said you had a busy schedule and, when I was getting paranoid, I thought you were deliberately abandoning me. Please forgive me. Obviously, it was you who got me down from there. Did anyone else care?”

“They were busy men,” said Dors carefully. “They thought you had come down earlier. I mean, it was a legitimate thought.”

“Clowzia thought so too?”

“The young intern? Yes, she did.”

“Well, it may still have been a conspiracy. Without you, I mean.”

“No, Hari, it
is
my fault. I had absolutely no right to let you go Upperside alone. It was my job to protect
you. I can’t stop blaming myself for what happened, for you getting lost.”

“Now, wait a minute,” said Seldon, suddenly irritated. “I didn’t get lost. What do you think I am?”

“I’d like to know what you call it. You were nowhere around when the others left and you didn’t get back to the entrance—or to the neighborhood of the entrance anyway—till well after dark.”

“But that’s not what happened. I didn’t get lost just because I wandered away and couldn’t find my way back. I told you I was suspecting a conspiracy and I had cause to do so. I’m not totally paranoid.”

“Well then, what
did
happen?”

Seldon told her. He had no trouble remembering it in full detail; he had lived with it in nightmare for most of the preceding day.

Dors listened with a frown. “But that’s impossible. A jet-down? Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. Do you think I was hallucinating?”

“But the Imperial forces could not have been searching for you. They could not have arrested you Upperside without creating the same ferocious rumpus they would have if they had sent in a police force to arrest you on campus.”

“Then how do you explain it?”

“I’m not sure,” said Dors, “but it’s possible that the consequences of my failure to go Upperside with you might have been worse than they were and that Hummin will be seriously angry with me.”

“Then let’s not tell him,” said Seldon. “It ended well.”

“We must tell him,” said Dors grimly. “This may not be the end.”

That evening Jenarr Leggen came to visit. It was after dinner and he looked from Dors to Seldon several times, as though wondering what to say. Neither offered to help him, but both waited patiently. He had not impressed either of them as being a master of small talk.

Finally he said to Seldon, “I’ve come to see how you are.”

“Perfectly well,” said Seldon, “except that I’m a little sleepy. Dr. Venabili tells me that the treatment will keep me tired for a few days, presumably so I’m sure of getting needed rest.” He smiled. “Frankly, I don’t mind.”

Leggen breathed in deeply, let it out, hesitated, and then, almost as though he was forcing the words out of himself, said, “I won’t keep you long. I perfectly understand you need to rest. I do want to say, though, that I am sorry it all happened. I should not have assumed—so casually—that you had gone down by yourself. Since you were a tyro, I should have felt more responsible for you. After all, I had agreed to let you come up. I hope you can find it in your heart to … forgive me. That’s really all I wish to say.”

Seldon yawned, putting his hand over his mouth. “Pardon me. —Since it seems to have turned out well, there need be no hard feelings. In some ways, it was not your fault. I should not have wandered away and, besides, what happened was—”

Dors interrupted. “Now, Hari, please, no conversation. Just relax. Now, I want to talk to Dr. Leggen just a bit before he goes. In the first place, Dr. Leggen, I quite understand you are concerned about how repercussions from this affair will affect you. I told you there
would be no follow-up if Dr. Seldon recovered without ill effects. That seems to be taking place, so you may relax—for now. I would like to ask you about something else and I hope that this time I will have your free cooperation.”

“I will try, Dr. Venabili,” said Leggen stiffly.

“Did anything unusual happen during your stay Upperside?”

“You know it did. I lost Dr. Seldon, something for which I have just apologized.”

“Obviously I’m not referring to that. Did anything else unusual happen?”

“No, nothing. Nothing at all.”

Dors looked at Seldon and Seldon frowned. It seemed to him that Dors was trying to check on his story and get an independent account. Did she think he was imagining the search vessel? He would have liked to object heatedly, but she had raised a quieting hand at him, as though she was preventing that very eventuality. He subsided, partly because of this and partly because he really wanted to sleep. He hoped that Leggen would not stay long.

“Are you certain?” said Dors. “Were there no intrusions from outside?”

“No, of course not. Oh—”

“Yes, Dr. Leggen?”

“There was a jet-down.”

“Did that strike you as peculiar?”

“No, of course not.”

“Why not?”

“This sounds very much as though I’m being cross-examined, Dr. Venabili. I don’t much like it.”

“I can appreciate that, Dr. Leggen, but these questions have something to do with Dr. Seldon’s misadventure. It may be that this whole affair is more complicated than I had thought.”

“In what way?” A new edge entered his voice. “Do you intend to raise new questions, requiring new apologies? In that case, I may find it necessary to withdraw.”

“Not, perhaps, before you explain how it is you do not find a hovering jet-down a bit peculiar.”

“Because, my dear woman, a number of meteorological stations on Trantor possess jet-downs for the direct study of clouds and the upper atmosphere. Our own meteorological station does not.”

“Why not? It would be useful.”

“Of course. But we’re not competing and we’re not keeping secrets. We will report on our findings; they will report on theirs. It makes sense, therefore, to have a scattering of differences and specializations. It would be foolish to duplicate efforts completely. The money and manpower we might spend on jet-downs can be spent on mesonic refractometers, while others will spend on the first and save on the latter. After all, there may be a great deal of competitiveness and ill feeling among the sectors, but science is one thing—the only thing—that holds us together. You know that, I presume,” he added ironically.

“I do, but isn’t it rather coincidental that someone should be sending a jet-down right to your station on the very day you were going to use the station?”

“No coincidence at all. We announced that we were going to make measurements on that day and, consequently, some other station thought, very properly, that they might make simultaneous nephelometric measurements—clouds, you know. The results, taken together, would make more sense and be more useful than either taken separately.”

Seldon said suddenly in a rather blurred voice, “They were just measuring, then?” He yawned again.

“Yes,” said Leggen. “What else could they possibly be doing?”

Dors blinked her eyes, as she sometimes did when she was trying to think rapidly. “That all makes sense. To which station did this particular jet-down belong?”

Leggen shook his head. “Dr. Venabili, how can you possibly expect me to tell?”

“I thought that each meteorological jet-down might possibly have its station’s markings on it.”

“Surely, but I wasn’t looking up and studying it, you know. I had my own work to do and I let them do theirs. When they report, I’ll know whose jet-down it was.”

“What if they don’t report?”

“Then I would suppose their instruments failed. That happens sometimes.” His right fist was clenched. “Is that all, then?”

“Wait a moment. Where do you suppose the jet-down
might
have come from?”

“It might be any station with jet-downs. On a day’s notice—and they got more than that—one of those vessels can reach us handily from anyplace on the planet.”

“But who most likely?”

“Hard to say: Hestelonia, Wye, Ziggoreth, North Damiano. I’d say one of these four was the most likely, but it
might
be any of forty others at least.”

“Just one more question, then. Just one. Dr. Leggen, when you announced that your group would be Upperside, did you by any chance say that a mathematician, Dr. Hari Seldon, would be with you?”

A look of apparently deep and honest surprise crossed Leggen’s face, a look that quickly turned contemptuous. “Why should I list names? Of what interest would that be to anyone?”

“Very well,” said Dors. “The truth of the matter, then, is that Dr. Seldon saw the jet-down and it disturbed him. I am not certain why and apparently his memory is a bit fuzzy on the matter. He more or less ran away from the jet-down, got himself lost, didn’t think of trying to return—or didn’t dare to—till it was well into twilight, and didn’t quite make it back in the dark. You can’t be blamed for that, so let’s forget the whole incident on both sides. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” said Leggen. “Good-bye!” He turned on his heel and left.

When he was gone, Dors rose, pulled off Seldon’s
slippers gently, straightened him in his bed, and covered him. He was sleeping, of course.

Then she sat down and thought. How much of what Leggen had said was true and what might possibly exist under the cover of his words? She did not know.

When Seldon woke, he found a new face looking at him solemnly. For a moment he frowned owlishly and then he said, “Hummin?”