by Isaac Asimov
"Why, I wonder? If he's that old, he couldn't hold the power for long."
"Who knows, Hari? A lifelong obsession, I suppose. Or else it's the game . . . the maneuvering for power, without any real longing for the power itself. Probably if he had the power and took over Demerzel's place or even the Imperial throne itself, he would feel disappointed because the game would be over. Of nurse he might, if he was still alive, begin the subsequent game of keeping power, which might be just as difficult and just as satisfying."
Seldon shook his head. "It strikes me that no one could possibly want to be Emperor."
"No sane person would, I free, but the 'Imperial wish,' as it is frequently called, is like a disease that, when caught, drives out sanity. And the closer you get to high office, the more likely you are to catch the disease. With each ensuing promotion-"
"The disease grows still more acute. Yes, I can see that. But it also seems to me that Trantor is so huge a world, so interlocking in its needs and so conflicting in its ambitions, that it makes up the major part of the inability of the Emperor to rule. Why doesn't he just leave Trantor and establish himself on some simpler world?"
Dors laughed. "You wouldn't ask that if you knew your history. Trantor is the Empire through thousands of years of custom. An Emperor who is not at the Imperial Palace is not the Emperor. He is a place, even more than a person."
Seldon sank into silence, his face rigid, and after a while Dors asked, What's the matter, Hari?"
"I'm thinking," he said in a muffled voice. "Ever since you told me that hand-on-thigh story, I've had fugitive thoughts that-Now your remark about the Emperor being a place rather than a person seems to have struck a chord."
"What kind of chord?"
Seldon shook his head. "I'm still thinking. I may be all wrong." His glance at Dors sharpened, his eyes coming into focus. "In any case, we ought to go down and have breakfast. We're late and I don't think Mistress Tisalver is in a good enough humor to have it brought in for us."
"You optimist," said Dors. "My own feeling is that she's not in a good enough humor to want us to stay-breakfast or not. She wants us out of here."
"That may be, but we're paying her."
"Yes, but I suspect she hates us enough by now to scorn our credits."
"Perhaps her husband will feel a bit more affectionate concerning the rent."
"If he has a single word to say, Hari, the only person who would be more surprised than me to hear it would be Mistress Tisalver. -Very well, I'm ready."
And they moved down the stairs to the Tisalver portion of the apartment to find the lady in question waiting for them with less than breakfast-and with considerably more too.
78.
Casilia Tisalver stood ramrod straight with a tight smile on her round face and her dark eyes glinting. Her husband was leaning moodily against the wall. In the center of the room were two men who were standing stiffly upright, as though they had noticed the cushions on the floor but scorned them.
Both had the dark crisp hair and the chick black mustache to be expected of Dahlites. Both were thin and both were dressed in dark clothes so nearly alike that they were surely uniforms. There was thin white piping up and over the shoulders and down the sides of the tubular trouser legs. Each had, on the right side of his chest, a rather dim Spaceship-and-Sun, the symbol of the Galactic Empire on every inhabited world of the Galaxy, with, in this case, a dark "D" in the center of the sun.
Seldon realized immediately that these were two members of the Dahlite security forces.
"What's all this?" said Seldon sternly.
One of the men stepped forward. "I am Sector Officer Lanel Russ. This is my partner, Gebore Astinwald."
Both presented glittering identification holo-tabs. Seldon didn't bother looking at them. "What it is you want?"
Russ said calmly, "Are you Hari Seldon of Helicon?"
"I am."
"And are you Dors Venabili of Cinna, Mistress?"
"I am," said Dors.
"I'm here to investigate a complaint that one Hari Seldon instigated a riot yesterday."
"I did no such thing," said Seldon.
"Our information is," said Russ, looking at the screen of a small computer pad, "that you accused a newsman of being an Imperial agent, thus instigating a riot against him."
Dors said, "It was I who said he was an Imperial agent, Officer. I had reason to think he was. h is surely no crime to express one's opinion. The Empire has freedom of speech."
"That does not cover an opinion deliberately advanced in order to instigate a riot."
"How can you say it was, Officer?"
At this point, Mistress Tisalver interposed in a shrill voice, "1 can say it, Officer. She saw there was a crowd present, a crowd of gutter people who were just looking for trouble. She deliberately said he was an Imperial agent when she knew nothing of the sort and she shouted it to the crowd to stir them up. It was plain that she knew what she was doing."
"Casilia," said her husband pleadingly, but she cast one look at him and he said no more.
Russ turned to Mistress Tisalver. "Did you lodge the complaint, Mistress?"
"Yes. These two have been living here for a few days and they've done nothing but make trouble. They've invited people of low reputation into my apartment, damaging my standing with my neighbors."
"Is it against the law, Officer," asked Seldon, "to invite clean, quiet citizens of Dahl into one's room? The two rooms upstairs are our rooms. We have rented them and they are paid for. Is it a crime to speak to Dahlites in Dahl, Officer?"
"No, it is not," said Russ. "That is not part of the complaint. What gave you reason, Mistress Venabili, to suppose the person you so accused was, in fact, an Imperial agent?"
Doss said, "He had a small brown mustache, from which I concluded he was not a Dahlite. I surmised he was an Imperial agent"
"You surmised? Your associate, Master Seldon, has no mustache at all. Do you surmise he is an Imperial agent?"
"In any case," said Seldon hastily, "there was no riot. We asked the crowd to take no action against the supposed newsman and I'm sure they didn't."
"You're sure, Master Seldon?" said Russ. "Our information is that you left immediately after making your accusation. How could you witness what happened after you left?"
"I couldn't," said Seldon, "but let me ask you-Is the man dead? Is the man hurt?"
"The man has been interviewed. He denies he is an Imperial agent and we have no information that he is. He also claims he was handled roughly."
"He may well be lying in both respects," said Seldon. "I would suggest a Psychic Probe."
"That cannot be done on the victim of a crime," said Russ. "The sector government is very firm on that. It might do if you two, as the criminals in this case, each underwent a Psychic Probe. Would you like us to do that?"
Seldon and Dors exchanged glances for a moment, then Seldon said, "No, of course not."
"Of course not," repeated Russ with just a tinge of sarcasm in his voice, "hut you're ready enough to suggest it for someone else."
The other officer, Astinwald, who had so far not said a word, smiled at this.
Russ said, "We also have information that two days ago you engaged in a knife fight in Billibotton and badly hurt a Dahlite citizen named"-he struck a button on his computer pad and studied the new page on the screen-"Elgin Marron."
Doss said, "Dot your information tell you how the fight started?"
"That is irrelevant at the moment, Mistress. Do you deny that the fight took place?"
"Of course we don't deny the fight took place," said Seldon hotly, "but we deny that we in any way instigated that. We were attacked. Mistress Venabili was seized by this Marron and it was clear he was attempting to rape her. What happened afterward was pure self-defense. Or does Dahl condone rape?"
Russ said with very little intonation in his voice, "You say you were attacked? By how many?"
"Ten men."
"And you alone-wit
h a woman-defended yourself against tea men?"
"Mistress Venabili and I defended ourselves. Yes."
"How is it, then, chat neither of you shows any damage whatever? Are either of you cut or bruised where it doesn't show right now?"
"No, Officer."
"How is it, then, that in the fight of one-plus a woman-against ten, you are in no way hurt, but that the complainant, Elgin Marron, has been hospitalized with wounds and will require a skin transplant on his upper lip?"
"We fought well," said Seldon grimly.
"Unbelievably well. What would you say if I told you that three men have testified that you and your friend attacked Marron, unprovoked?"
"I would say that it belies belief that we should. I'm sure that Marron has a record as a brawler and knifeman. I tell you that there were ten there. Obviously, six refused to swear to a lie. Do the other three explain why they did not come to the help of their friend if they witnessed him under unprovoked attack and in danger of his life? It must be clear to you that they are lying."
"Do you suggest a Psychic Probe for them?"
"Yes. And before you ask, I still refuse to consider one for us."
Russ said, "We have also received information that yesterday, after leaving the scene of the riot, you consulted with one Davan, a known subversive who is wanted by the security police. Is that true?"
"You'll have to prove that without help from us," said Seldon. "We're not answering any further questions."
Russ put away his pad. "I'm afraid I must ask you to come with us to headquarters for further interrogation."
"I don't think that's necessary, Officer," said Seldon. "We are Outworlders who have done nothing criminal. We have tried to avoid a newsman who was annoying us unduly, we tried to protect ourselves against rape and possible murder in a part of the sector known for criminal behavior, and we've spoken to various Dahlites. We see nothing there to warrant our further questioning. It would come under the heading of harassment."
"We make these decisions," said Russ. "Not you. Will you please come with us?"
"No, we will not," said Dors.
"Watch out!" cried out Mistress Tisalver. "She's got two knives."
Officer Russ sighed and said, "Thank you, Mistress, but I know she does." He turned to Dors. "Do you know it's a serious crime to carry a knife without a permit in this sector? Do you have a permit?"
"No, Officer, I don't."
"It was clearly with an illegal knife, then, that you assaulted Marron? Do you realize that that greatly increases the seriousness of the crime?"
"It was no crime, Officer," said Dors. "Understand that. Marron had a knife as well and no permit, I am certain."
"We have no evidence to that effect and while Marron has knife wounds, neither of you have any."
"Of course he had a knife, Officer. If you don't know that every man in Billibotton and most men elsewhere in Dahl carry knives for which they probably don't have permits, then you're the only man in Dahl who doesn't know. There are shops here wherever you turn that sell knives openly. Don't you know that?"
Russ said, "It doesn't matter what I know or don't know in this respect. Nor does it matter whether other people are breaking the law or how many of them do. All that matters at this moment is that Mistress Venabili is breaking the anti-knife law. I must ask you to give up those knives to me right now, Mistress, and the two of you must then accompany me to headquarters."
Dors said, "In chat case, take my knives away from me."
Russ sighed. "You must not think, Mistress, that knives are all the weapons there are in Dahl or that I need engage you in a knife fight. Both my partner and I have blasters that will destroy you in a moment, before you can drop your hands to your knife hilt-however fast you are. We won't use a blaster, of course, because we are not here to kill you. However, each of us also has a neuronic whip, which we can use on you freely. I hope you won't ask for a demonstration. h won't kill you, do you permanent harm of any kind, or leave any marks-but the pain is excruciating. My partner is holding a neuronic whip on you right now. And here is mine. -Now, let us have your knives, Mistress Venabili."
There was a moment's pause and then Seldon said, "It's no use, Dors. Give him your knives."
And at that moment, a frantic pounding sounded at the door and they all heard a voice raised in high-pitched expostulation.
79.
Raych had not entirely left the neighborhood after he had walked them back to their apartment house.
He had eaten well while waiting for the interview with Davan to 6e done and later had slept a bit after finding a bathroom that more or less worked. He really had no place to go now that all that was done. He had a home of sorts and a mother who was not likely to be perturbed if he stayed away for a while. She never was.
He did not know who his father was and wondered sometimes if he really had one. He had been told he had to have one and the reasons for that had been explained to him crudely enough. Sometimes he wondered if he ought to believe so peculiar a story, but he did find the details titillating.
He thought of chat in connection with the lady. She was an old lady, of course, but she was pretty and she could fight like a manbetter than a man. It filled him with vague notions.
And she had offered to let him take a bath. He could swim in the Billibotton pool sometimes when he had some credits he didn't need for anything else or when he could sneak in. Those were the only times he got wet all over, but it was chilly and he had to wait to get dry.
Taking a bath was different. There would be hoc water, soap, towels, and warm air. He wasn't sure what it would feel like, except that it would be nice if she was there.
He was walkway-wise enough to know of places where he could park himself in an alley off a walkway that would 6e near a bathroom and still be near enough to where she was, yet where he probably wouldn't be found and made to run away.
He spent the night thinking strange thoughts. What if he did learn to read and write? Could he do something with that? He wasn't sure what, but maybe the could cell him. He had vague ideas of being paid money to do things he didn't know how to do now, but he didn't know what those things might be. He would have to be cold, but how do you get told?
If he stayed with the man and the lady, they might help. But why should they want him to stay with them?
He drowsed off, coming to later, not because the light was brightening, but because his sharp ears caught the heightening and deepening of sounds from the walkway as the activities of the day began.
He had learned to identify almost every variety of sound, because in the underground maze of Billibotton, if you wanted to survive with even a minimum of comfort, you had to be aware of things before you saw them. And there was something about the sound of a ground-car motor that he now heard that signaled danger to him. It had an official sound, a hostile sound
He shook himself awake and stole quietly toward the walkway. He scarcely needed to see the Spaceship-and-Sun on the groundcar. Its lines were enough. He knew they had to be coming for the man and the lady because they had seen Davan. He did not pause to question his thoughts or to analyze them. He was off on a run, beating his way through the gathering life of the day.
He was back in less than fifteen minutes. The ground-car was still there and there were curious and cautious onlookers gazing at it from all sides and from a respectful distance. There would soon be more. He pounded his way up the stairs, trying to remember which door he should bang on. No time for the elevator.
He found the door-at least he thought he did--and he banged, shouting in a squeak, "Lady! Lady!"
He was too excited to remember her name, but he remembered part of the man's. "Hari!" he shouted. "Let me in."
The door opened and he rushed in-tried to rush in. The rough hand of an officer seized his arm. "Hold it, kid. Where do you think you're going?"
"Leggo! I ain't done nothin'." He looked about. "Hey, lady, what're they Join'?"
"Arresting us,
" said Dors grimly.
"What for?" said Raych, panting and struggling. "Hey, leggo, you Sunbadger. Don't go with him, lady. You don't have to go with him. "
"You get out," said Russ, shaking the boy vehemently.
"No, I ain't, You ain't either, Sunbadger. My whole gang is coming. You ain't gettin' out, less'n you let these guys go."
"What whole gang?" said Russ, frowning.
"They're right outside now. Prob'ly takin' your ground-car apart. And they'll take yore apart."
Russ turned toward his partner, "Call headquarters. Have them send out a couple of trucks with Macros."
"No!" shrieked Raych, breaking loose and rushing at Astinwald. "Don't call!"
Russ leveled his neuronic whip and fired.
Raych shrieked, grasped at his right shoulder, and fell down, wriggling madly.
Russ had not yet turned back to Seldon, when the latter, seizing him by the wrist, pushed the neuronic whip up in the air and then around and behind, while stamping on his foot to keep him relatively motionless. Hari could feel the shoulder dislocate, even while Russ emitted a hoarse, agonized yell.
Astinwald raised his blaster quickly, but Dors's left arm was around his shoulder and the knife in her right hand was at his throat.
"Don't move!" she said. "Move a millimeter, any part of you, and I cut you through your neck to the spine. -Drop the blaster. Drop it! And the neuronic whip."
Seldon picked up Raych, still moaning, and held him tightly. He turned to Tisalver and said, "There are people out there. Angry people. I'll have them in here and they'll break up everything you've got. They'll smash the walls. If you don't want that to happen, pick up those weapons and throw them into the next room. Take the weapons from the security officer on the door and do the same. Quickly! Get your wife to help. She'll think twice next time before sending in complaints against innocent people. -Dors, this one on the floor won't do anything for a while. Put the other one out of action, but don't kill him."
"Right," said Dors. Reversing her knife, she struck him hard on the skull with the haft. He went to his knees.
She made a face. "I hate doing that."
