Foundation's Edge f-6

by Isaac Asimov

  “And now the Second Foundation will wipe that knowledge from our minds, I suppose.”

  “If they can,” said Branno, “but they may find that things have changed.”

  Kodell said, “Earlier you said you knew where the Second Foundation was. You would take care of Gaia first, then Trantor. I deduce from this that the other ship was of Trantorian origin.”

  “You suppose correctly. Are you surprised?”

  Kodell shook his head slowly. “Not in hindsight. Ebling Mis, Toran Darell and Bayta Darell were all on Trantor during the period when the Mule was stopped. Arkady Darell, Bayta’s granddaughter, was born on Trantor and was on Trantor again when the Second Foundation was itself supposedly stopped. In her account of events, there is a Preem Palver who played a key role, appearing at convenient times, and he was a Trantorian trader. I should think it was obvious that the Second Foundation was on Trantor, where, incidentally, Hari Seldon himself lived at the time he founded both Foundations.”

  “Quite obvious, except that no one ever suggested the possibility. The Second Foundation saw to that. It is what I meant when I said they didn’t have to cover their tracks, when they could so easily arrange to have no one look in the direction of those tracks—or wipe out the memory of those tracks after they had been seen.”

  Kodell said, “In that case, let us not look too quickly in the direction in which they may simply be wanting us to look. How is it, do you suppose, that Trevize was able to decide the Second Foundation existed? Why didn’t the Second Foundation stop him?”

  Branno held up her gnarled fingers and counted on them. “First, Trevize is a very unusual man who, for all his obstreperous inability to use caution, has something about him that I have not been able to penetrate. He may be a special case. Second, the Second Foundation was not entirely ignorant. Compor was on Trevize’s tail at once and reported him to me. I was relied on to stop Trevize without the Second Foundation having to risk open involvement. Third, when I didn’t quite react as expected—no execution, no imprisonment, no memory erasure, no Psychic Probe of his brain—when I merely sent him out into space, the Second Foundation went further. They made the direct move of sending one of their own ships after him.”

  And she added with tight-lipped pleasure, “Oh, excellent lightning rod.”

  Kodell said, “And our next move?”

  “We are going to challenge that Second Foundationer we now face. In fact, we’re moving toward him rather sedately right now.”

  4.

  Gendibal and Novi sat together, side by side, watching the screen.

  Novi was frightened. To Gendibal, that was quite apparent, as was the fact that she was desperately trying to fight off that fright. Nor could Gendibal do anything to help her in her struggle, for he did not think it wise to touch her mind at this moment, lest he obscure the response she displayed to the feeble mentalic field that surrounded them.

  The Foundation warship was approaching slowly—but deliberately. It was a large warship, with a crew of perhaps as many as six, judging from past experience with Foundation ships. Her weapons, Gendibal was certain, would be sufficient in themselves to hold off and, if necessary, wipe out a fleet made up of every ship available to the Second Foundation—if those ships had to rely on physical force alone.

  As it was, the advance of the warship, even against a single ship manned by a Second Foundationer, allowed certain conclusions to be drawn. Even if the ship possessed mentalic ability, it would not be likely to advance into the teeth of the Second Foundation in this manner. More likely, it was advancing out of ignorance—and this might exist in any of several degrees.

  It could mean that the captain of the warship was not aware that Compor had been replaced or—if aware—did not know the replacement was a Second Foundationer, or perhaps was not even aware what a Second Foundationer might be.

  Or (and Gendibal intended to consider everything) what if the ship did possess mentalic force and, nevertheless, advanced in this self-confident manner? That could only mean it was under the control of a megalomaniac or that it possessed powers far beyond any that Gendibal could bring himself to consider possible.

  But what he considered possible was not the final judgment—

  Carefully he sensed Novi’s mind. Novi could not sense mentalic fields consciously, whereas Gendibal, of course, could—yet Gendibal’s mind could not do so as delicately or detect as feeble a mental field as could Novi’s. This was a paradox that would have to be studied in future and might produce fruit that would in the long run prove of far greater importance than the immediate problem of an approaching spaceship.

  Gendibal had grasped the possibility of this, intuitively, when he first became aware of the unusual smoothness and symmetry of Novi’s mind—and he felt a somber pride in this intuitive ability he possessed. Speakers had always been proud of their intuitive powers, but how much was this the product of their inability to measure fields by straightforward physical methods and their failure, therefore, to understand what it was that they really did? It was easy to cover up ignorance by the mystical word “intuition.” And how much of this ignorance of theirs might arise from their underestimation of the importance of physics as compared to mentalics?

  And how much of that was blind pride? When he became First Speaker, Gendibal thought, this would change. There would have to be some narrowing of the physical gap between the Foundations. The Second Foundation could not face forever the possibility of destruction any time the mentalic monopoly slipped even slightly.

  —Indeed, the monopoly might be slipping now. Perhaps the First Foundation had advanced or there was an alliance between the First Foundation and the Anti-Mules. (That thought occurred to him now for the first time and he shivered.)

  His thoughts of the subject slipped through his mind with a rapidity common to a Speaker—and while he was thinking, he also remained sensitively aware of the glow in Novi’s mind, the response to the gently pervasive mentalic field about them. It was not growing stronger as the Foundation warship drew nearer.

  This was not, in itself, an absolute indication that the warship was not equipped with mentalics. It was well known that the mentalic field did not obey the inverse-square law. It did not grow stronger precisely as the square of the extent to which distance between emitter and receiver lessened. It differed in this way from the electromagnetic and the gravitational fields. Still, although mentalic fields varied less with distance than the various physical fields did, it was not altogether insensitive to distance, either. The response of Novi’s mind should show a detectable increase as the warship approached—some increase.

  (How was it that no Second Foundationer in five centuries—from Hari Seldon on—had ever thought of working out a mathematical relationship between mentalic intensity and distance? This shrugging off of physics must and would stop, Gendibal silently vowed.)

  If the warship possessed mentalics and if it felt quite certain it was approaching a Second Foundationer, would it not increase the intensity of its field to maximum before advancing? And in that case, would not Novi’s mind surely register an increased response of some kind?

  —Yet it did not!

  Confidently Gendibal eliminated the possibility that the warship possessed mentalics. It was advancing out of ignorance and, as a menace, it could be downgraded.

  The mentalic field, of course, still existed, but it had to originate on Gaia. This was disturbing enough, but the immediate problem was the ship. Let that be eliminated and he could then turn his attention to the world of the Anti-Mules.

  He waited. The warship would make some move or it would come close enough to him to feel confident that he could pass over to an effective offense.

  The warship still approached—quite rapidly now—and still did nothing. Finally Gendibal calculated that the strength of his push would be sufficient. There would be no pain, scarcely any discomfort—all those on board would merely find that the large muscles of their backs and limbs would respon
d but sluggishly to their desires.

  Gendibal narrowed the mentalic field controlled by his mind. It intensified and leaped across the gap between the ships at the speed of light. (The two ships were close enough to make hyperspatial contact—with its inevitable loss of precision—unnecessary.)

  And Gendibal then fell back in numbed surprise.

  The Foundation warship was possessed of an efficient mentalic shield that gained in density in proportion as his own field gained in intensity. —The warship was not approaching out of ignorance after all—and it had an unexpected if passive weapon.

  5.

  “Ah,” said Branno. “He has attempted an attack, Liono. See!”

  The needle on the psychometer moved and trembled in its irregular rise.

  The development of the mentalic shield had occupied Foundation scientists for a hundred and twenty years in the most secret of all scientific projects, except perhaps for Hari Seldon’s lone development of psychohistorical analysis. Five generations of human beings had labored in the gradual improvement of a device backed by no satisfactory theory.

  But no advance would have been possible without the invention of the psychometer that could act as a guide, indicating the direction and amount of advance at every stage. No one could explain how it worked, yet all indications were that it measured the immeasurable and gave numbers to the indescribable. Branno had the feeling (shared by some of the scientists themselves) that if ever the Foundation could explain the workings of the psychometer, they would be the equal of the Second Foundation in mind control.

  But that was for the future. At present, the shield would have to be enough, backed as it was by an overwhelming preponderance in physical weapons.

  Branno sent out the message, delivered in a male voice from which all overtones of emotion had been removed, till it was flat and deadly.

  “Calling the ship Bright Star and its occupants. You have forcibly taken a ship of the Navy of the Foundation Federation in an act of piracy. You are directed to surrender the ship and yourselves at once or face attack.”

  The answer came in natural voice: “Mayor Branno of Terminus, I know you are on the ship. The Bright Star was not taken by piratical action. I was freely invited on board by its legal captain, Munn Li Compor of Terminus. I ask a period of truce that we may discuss matters of importance to each of us alike.”

  Kodell whispered to Branno, “Let me do the speaking, Mayor.”

  She raised her arm contemptuously, “The responsibility is mine, Liono.”

  Adjusting the transmitter, she spoke in tones scarcely less forceful and unemotional than the artificial voice that had spoken before:

  “Man of the Second Foundation, understand your position. If you do not surrender forthwith, we can blow your ship out of space in the time it takes light to travel from our ship to yours—and we are ready to do that. Nor will we lose by doing this, for you have no knowledge for which we need keep you alive. We know you are from Trantor and, once we have dealt with you, we will be ready to deal with Trantor. We are willing to allow you a period in which to have your say, but since you cannot have much of worth to tell us, we are not prepared to listen long.”

  “In that case,” said Gendibal, “let me speak quickly and to the point. Your shield is not perfect and cannot be. You have overestimated it and underestimated me. I can handle your mind and control it. Not as easily, perhaps, as if there were no shield, but easily enough. The instant you attempt to use any weapon, I will strike you—and there is this for you to understand: Without a shield, I can handle your mind smoothly and do it no harm. With the shield, however, I must smash through, which I can do, and I will be unable then to handle you either smoothly or deftly. Your mind will be smashed as the shield and the effect will be irreversible. In other words, you cannot stop me and I, on the other hand, can stop you by being forced to do worse than killing you. I will leave you a mindless hulk. Do you wish to risk that?”

  Branno said, “You know you cannot do as you say.”

  “Do you, then, wish to risk the consequences I have described?” asked Gendibal with an air of cool indifference.

  Kodell leaned over and whispered, “For Seldon’s sake, Mayor—”

  Gendibal said (not exactly at once, for it took light—and everything at light-speed—a little over one second to travel from one vessel to the other), “I follow your thoughts, Kodell. No need to whisper. I also follow the Mayor’s thoughts. She is irresolute, so you have no need to panic just yet. And the mere fact that I know this is ample evidence that your shield leaks.”

  “It can be strengthened,” said the Mayor defiantly.

  “So can my mentalic force,” said Gendibal.

  “But I sit here at my ease, consuming merely physical strength to maintain the shield, and I have enough to maintain that shield for very long periods of time. You must use mentalic energy to penetrate the shield and you will tire.”

  “I am not tired,” said Gendibal. “At the present moment, neither of you is capable of giving any order to any member of the crew of your ship or to any crewman on any other ship. I can manage so much without any harm to you, but do not make any unusual effort to escape this control, for if I match that by increasing my own force, as I will have to do, you will be damaged as I have said.”

  “I will wait,” said Branno, placing her hands in her lap with every sign of solid patience. “You will tire and when you do, the orders that will go out will not be to destroy you, for you will then be harmless. The orders will be to send the main Foundation Fleet against Trantor. If you wish to save your world—surrender. A second orgy of destruction will not leave your organization untouched, as the first one did at the time of the Great Sack.”

  “Don’t you see that if I feel myself tiring, Mayor, which I won’t, I can save my world very simply by destroying you before my strength to do so is gone?”

  “You won’t do that. Your main task is to maintain the Seldon Plan. To destroy the Mayor of Terminus and thus to strike a blow at the prestige and confidence of the First Foundation, producing a staggering setback to its power and encouraging its enemies everywhere, will produce such a disruption to the Plan that it will be almost as bad for you as the destruction of Trantor. You might as well surrender.”

  “Are you willing to gamble on my reluctance to destroy you?”

  Branno’s chest heaved as she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She then said firmly, “Yes!”

  Kodell, sitting at her side, paled.

  6.

  Gendibal stared at the figure of Branno, superimposed upon the volume of room just in front of the wall. It was a little flickery and hazy thanks to the interference of the shield. The man next to her was almost featureless with haze, for Gendibal had no energy to waste on him. He had to concentrate on the Mayor.

  To be sure, she had no image of him in return. She had no way of knowing that he too had a companion, for instance. She could make no judgment from his expressions, from his body language. In this respect, she was at a disadvantage.

  Everything he had said was true. He could smash her at the cost of an enormous expenditure of mentalic force—and in so doing, he could scarcely avoid disrupting her mind irreparably.

  Yet everything she had said was true as well. Destroying her would damage the Plan as much as the Mule himself had damaged it. Indeed, the new damage might be more serious, since it was now later in the game and there would be less time to retrieve the misstep.

  Worse still, there was Gaia, which was still an unknown quantity—with its mentalic field remaining at the faint and tantalizing edge of detection.

  For a moment, he touched Novi’s mind to make sure that the flow was still there. It was, and it was unchanged.

  She could not have sensed that touch in any way, but she turned to him and in an awed whisper said, “Master, there is a faint mist there. Is it to that you talk?”

  She must have sensed the mist through the small connection between their two minds. Gend
ibal put a finger to his lips. “Have no fear, Novi. Close your eyes and rest.”

  He raised his voice. “Mayor Branno, your gamble is a good one in this respect. I do not wish to destroy you at once, since I think that if I explain something to you, you will listen to reason and there will then be no need to destroy in either direction.

  “Suppose, Mayor, that you win out and that I surrender. What follows? In an orgy of self-confidence and in undue reliance on your mentalic shield, you and your successors will attempt to spread your power over the Galaxy with undue haste. In doing so, you will actually postpone the establishment of the Second Empire, because you will also destroy the Seldon Plan.”

  Branno said, “I am not surprised that you do not wish to destroy me at once and I think that, as you sit there, you will be forced to realize that you do not dare to destroy me at all.”

  Gendibal said, “Do not deceive yourself with self-congratulatory folly. Listen to me. The majority of the Galaxy is still non-Foundation and, to a great extent, anti-Foundation. There are even portions of the Foundation Federation itself that have not forgotten their days of independence. If the Foundation moves too quickly in the wake of my surrender, it will deprive the rest of the Galaxy of its greatest weakness—its disunity and indecision. You will force them to unite by fear and you will feed the tendency toward rebellion within.”

  “You are threatening with clubs of straw,” said Branno. “We have the power to win easily against all enemies, even if every world in the non-Foundation Galaxy combined against us, and even if these were helped by a rebellion in half the worlds of the Federation itself. There would be no problem.”