“And how did you come upon it?” asked Trevize. “In a communication? A book? A scientific paper? Some ancient song? How? --Come on!”

 

                Pelorat sat back and crossed his arms. He fell into deep thought and didn’t move. Trevize said nothing and waited.

 

                Finally Pelorat said, “In a private communication. --But it’s no use asking me from whom, my dear chap. I don’t remember.”

 

                Trevize moved his hands over his sash. They felt clammy as he continued his efforts to elicit information without too clearly forcing words into the other’s mouth. He said, “From a historian? From an expert in mythology? From a Gaiactographer?”

 

                “No use. I cannot match a name to the communication.”

 

                “Because, perhaps, there was none.”

 

                “Oh no. That scarcely seems possible.”

 

                “Why? Would you have rejected an anonymous communication?”

 

                “I suppose not.”

 

                “Did you ever receive any?”

 

                “Once in a long while. In recent years, I had become well known in certain academic circles as a collector of particular types of myths and legends and some of my correspondents were occasionally kind enough to forward material they had picked up from nonacademic sources. Sometimes these might not be attributed to anyone in particular.”

 

                Trevize said, “Yes, but did you ever receive anonymous information directly, and not by way of some academic correspondent?”

 

                “That sometimes happened--but very rarely.”

 

                “And can you be certain that this was not so in the case of Gaia?”

 

                “Such anonymous communications took place so rarely that I should think Iwould remember if it had happened in this case. Still, I can’t say certainly that the information was not of anonymous origin. Mind, though, that’s not to say that Idid receive the information from an anonymous source.”

 

                “I realize that. But it remains a possibility, doesn’t it?”

 

                Pelorat said, very reluctantly, “I suppose it does. But what’s all this about?”

 

                “I’m not finished,” said Trevize peremptorily. “Where did you get the information from--anonymous or not? What world?”

 

                Pelorat shrugged. “Come now, I haven’t the slightest idea.”

 

                “Could it possibly have been from Sayshell?”

 

                “I told you. I don’t know.”

 

                “I’m suggesting youdid get it from Sayshell.”

 

                “You can suggest all you wish, but that does not necessarily make it so.”

 

                “No? When Quintesetz pointed out the dim Star at the center of the Five Sisters, you knew at once it was Gaia. You said so later on to Quintesetz, identifying it before he did. Do you remember?”

 

                “Yes, of course.”

 

                “How was that possible? How did you recognize at once that the dim star was Gaia?”

 

                “Because in the material I had on Gaia, it was rarely referred to by that name. Euphemisms were common, many different ones. One of the euphemisms, several times repeated, was ‘the little Brother of the Five Sisters.’ Another was ‘the Pentagon’s Center’ and sometimes it was called ‘o Pentagon.’ When Quintesetz pointed out the Five Sisters and the central star, the allusions came irresistibly to mind.”

 

                “You never mentioned those allusions to me earlier.”

 

                “I didn’t know what they meant and I didn’t think it would have been important to discuss the matter with you, who were a--” Pelorat hesitated.

 

                “A nonspecialist?”

 

                “Yes.”

 

                “You realize, I hope, that the pentagon of the Five Sisters is an entirely relative form.”

 

                “What do you mean?”

 

                Trevize laughed affectionately. “You surface worm. Do you think the sky has an objective shape of its own? That the stars are nailed in place? The pentagon has the shape it has from the surface of the worlds of the planetary system to which Sayshell Planet belongs-- and from thereonly . From a planet circling any other star, the appearance of the Five Sisters is different. They are seen from a different angle, for one thing. For another, the five stars of the pentagon are at different distances from Sayshell and, seen from other angles, there could be no visible relationship among them at all. One or two stars might be in one half of the sky, the others in the other half. See here--”

 

                Trevize darkened the room again and leaned over the computer. “There are eighty-six populated planetary systems making up the Sayshell Union. Let us keep Gaia--or the spot where Gaia ought to be--in place” (as he said that, a small red circle appeared in the center of the pentagon of the Five Sisters) “and shift to the skies as seen from any of the other eighty-six worlds taken at random.”

 

                The sky shifted and Pelorat blinked. The small red circle remained at the center of the screen, but the Five Sisters had disappeared. There were bright stars in the neighborhood but no tight pentagon. Again the sky shifted, and again, and again. It went on shifting. The red circle remained in place always, but at no time did a small pentagon of equally bright stars appear. Sometimes what might be a distorted pentagon of stars--unequally bright--appeared, but nothing like the beautiful asterism Quintesetz had pointed out.

 

                “Had enough?” said Trevize. “I assure you, the Five Sisters can never be seen exactly as we have seen it from any populated world but the worlds of the Sayshell planetary system.”

 

                Pelorat said, “The Sayshellian view might have been exported to other planets. There were many proverbs in Imperial times--some of which linger into our own, in fact--that are Trantor-centered.”

 

                “With Sayshell as secretive about Gaia as we know it to be? And why should worlds outside the Sayshell Union be interested? Why would they care about a ‘little Brother of the Five Sisters’ if there were nothing in the skies at which to point?”

 

                “Maybe you’re right.”

 

                “Then don’t you see that your original information must have come from Sayshell itself? Not just from somewhere in the Union, but precisely from the planetary system to which the capital world of the Union belongs.”

 

                Pelorat shook his head. “You make it sound as though it must, but it’s not something I remember. I simply don’t.”

 

                “Nevertheless, youdo see the force of my argument, don’t you?”

 

                “Yes, I do.”

 

                “Next-- When do you suppose the legend could have originated?”

 

                “Anytime. I should suppose it developed far back in the Imperial Era. It has the feel of an ancient--”

 

                “You are wrong, Janov. The Five Sisters are moderately close to Sayshell Planet, which is why they’re so bright. Four of them have high proper motions in consequence and no two are part of a family, so that they move in different directions. Watch what happens as I shift the map backward in time slowly.”

 

                Again the red circle that marked the site of Gaia remained in place, but the pentagon slowly fell apart, as four of the stars drifted in different directions and the fifth shifted slightly.

 

                “Look at that, Janov,” said Trevize. “Would you say that was a regular pentagon?”

 

                “Clearly lopsided,” said Pelorat.

 

                “And is Gaia at the center?”

 

                “No, it’s well to the side.”

 

                “Very well. That is how the asterism looked one hundred and fifty years ago. One and a half centuries, that’s all. --The material you received concerning ‘the Pentagon’s Center’ and so on made no real sense till this centuryanywhere , not even in Sayshell. The material you received had to originate in Sayshell and sometime in this century, perhaps in the last decade. And you got it, even though Sayshell is so close-mouthed about Gaia.”

 

                Trevize put the lights on, turned the star map off, and sat there staring sternly at Pelorat.

 

                Pelorat said, “I’m confused. What’s this about?”

 

                “You tell me. Consider! Somehow I got the idea into my head that the Second Foundation still existed. I was giving a talk during my election campaign. I started a bit of emotional byplay designed to squeeze votes out of the undecided with a dramatic ‘If the Second Foundation still existed--’ and later that day I thought to myself: What if itdid still exist? I began reading history books and within a week, I was convinced. There was no real evidence, but I have always felt that I had the knack of snatching the right conclusion out of a welter of speculation. This time, though--”

 

                Trevize brooded a bit, then went on. “And look at what has happened since. Of all people, I chose Compor as my confidant and he betrayed me. Whereupon Mayor Branno had me arrested and sent into exile. Why into exile, rather than just having me imprisoned, or trying to threaten me into silence? And why in a very late-model ship which gives me extraordinary powers of Jumping through the Galaxy? And why, of all things, does she insist I take you and suggest that I help you search for Earth?

 

                “And why was I so certain that we should not go to Trantor? I was convinced you had a better target for our investigations and at once you come up with the mystery world of Gaia, concerning which, as it now turns out, you gained information under very puzzling circumstances.

 

                “We go to Sayshell--the first natural stop--and at once we encounter Compor, who gives us a circumstantial story about Earth and its death. He then assures us its location is in the Sirius Sector and urges us to go there.”

 

                Pelorat said, “There you are. You seem to be implying that all circumstances are forcing us toward Gaia, but, as you say, Compor tried to persuade us to go elsewhere.”

 

                “And in response, I was determined to continue on our original line of investigation out of my sheer distrust for the man. Don’t you suppose that that was what he might have been counting on? He may have deliberately told us to go elsewhere just to keep us from doing so.”

 

                “That’s mere romance,” muttered Pelorat.

 

                “Is it? Let’s go on. We get in touch with Quintesetz simply because he was handy--”

 

                “Not at all,” said Pelorat. “I recognized his name.”

 

                “It seemed familiar to you. You had never read anything he had written--that you could recall. Why was it familiar to you? --In any case, it turned out he had read a paper of yours and was overwhelmed by it--and how likely wasthat ? You yourself admit your work is not widely known.

 

                “What’s more, the young lady leading us to him quite gratuitously mentions Gaia and goes on to tell us it is in hyperspace, as though to be sure we keep it in mind. When we ask Quintesetz about it, he behaves as though he doesn’t want to talk about it, but he doesn’t throw us out--even though I am rather rude to him. He takes us to his home instead and, on the way there, goes to the trouble of pointing out the Five Sisters. He even makes sure we note the dim star at the center. Why? Is not all this an extraordinary concatenation of coincidence?”

 

                Pelorat said, “If you list it like that--”

 

                “List it any way you please,” said Trevize. “I don’t believe in extraordinary concatenations of coincidence.”

 

                “What does all this mean, then? That we are being maneuvered to Gaia?”

 

                “By whom?”

 

                Trevize said, “Surely there can be no question about that. Who is capable of adjusting minds, of giving gentle nudges to this one or that, of managing to divert progress in this direction or that?”

 

                “You’re going to tell me it’s the Second Foundation.”

 

                “Well, what have we been told about Gaia? It is untouchable. Fleets that move against it are destroyed. People who reach it do not return. Even the Mule didn’t dare move against it--and the Mule, in fact, was probably born there. Surely it seems that Gaiais the Second Foundation--and finding that, after all, is my ultimate goal.

 

                Pelorat shook his head. “But according to some historians, the Second Foundation stopped the Mule. How could he have been one of them?”

 

                “A renegade, I suppose.”

 

                “But why should we be so relentlessly maneuvered toward the Second Foundation by the Second Foundation?”

 

                Trevize’s eyes were unfocused, his brow furrowed. He said, “Let’s reason it out. It has always seemed important to the Second Foundation that as little information as possible about it should be available to the Galaxy. Ideally it wants its very existence to remain unknown. We know that much about them. For a hundred twenty years, the Second Foundation was thought to be extinct and that must have suited them right down to the Galactic core. Yet when I began to suspect that theydid exist, they did nothing. Compor knew. They might have used him to shut me up one way or another--had me killed, even. Yet they did nothing.”

 

                Pelorat said, “They had you arrested, if you want to blame that on the Second Foundation. According to what you told me, that resulted in the people of Terminus not knowing about your views. The people of the Second Foundation accomplished that much without violence and they may be devotees of Salvor Hardin’s remark that ‘Violence is the last refuge of the incompetent.”

 

                “But keeping it from the people of Terminus accomplishes nothing. Mayor Branno knows my view and--at the very least--must wonder if I am correct. So now, you see, it is too late for them to harm us. If they had gotten rid of me to begin with, they would be in the clear. If they had left me alone altogether, they might have still remained in the clear, for they might have maneuvered Terminus into believing I was an eccentric, perhaps a madman. The prospective ruin of my political career might even have forced me into silence as soon as I saw what the announcement of my beliefs would mean.

 

                “And now it is too late for them to do anything. Mayor Branno was suspicious enough of the situation to send Compor after me and --having no faith in him either, being wiser than I was--she placed a hyper-relay on Compor’s ship. In consequence, she knows we are on Sayshell. And last night, while you were sleeping, I had our computer place a message directly into the computer of the Foundation ambassador here on Sayshell, explaining that we were on our way to Gaia. I took the trouble of giving its co-ordinates, too. If the Second Foundation does anything to us now, I am certain that Branno will have the matter investigated--and the concentrated attention of the Foundation must surely be what they don’t want.”

 

                “Would they care about attracting the Foundation’s attention, if they are so powerful?”

 

                “Yes,” said Trevize forcefully. “They lie hidden because, in some ways, they must be weak and because the Foundation is technologically advanced perhaps beyond even what Seldon himself might have foreseen. The very quiet, even stealthy, way in which they’ve been maneuvering us to their world would seem to show their eager desire to do nothing that will attract attention. And if so, then they have already lost, at least in part--for they’ve attracted attention and I doubt they can do anything to reverse the situation.”

 

                Pelorat said, “But why do they go through all this? Why do they ruin themselves--if your analysis is correct--by angling for us across the Galaxy? What is it they want of us?”

 

                Trevize stared at Pelorat and flushed. “Janov,” he said, “I have a feeling about this. I have this gift of coming to a correct conclusion on the basis of almost nothing. There’s a kind ofsureness about me that tells me when I’m right--and I’m sure now. There’s something I have that they want--and want enough to risk their very existence for. I don’t know what it can be, but I’ve got to find out, because if I’ve got it and if it’s that powerful, then I want to be able to use it for what I feel is right.” He shrugged slightly. “Do you still want to come along with me, old friend, now that you see how much a madman I am?”

 

                Pelorat said, “I told you I had faith in you. I still do.”

 

                And Trevize laughed with enormous relief. “Marvelous! Because another feeling I have is that you are, for some reason, also essential to this whole thing. In that case, Janov, we move on to Gaia, full speed. Forward!”

 

  

 

 2.

 

  

 

 Mayor Harla Branno looked distinctly older than her sixty-two years. She did not always look older, but she did now. She had been sufficiently wrapped up in thought to forget to avoid the mirror and had seen her image on her way into the map room. So she was aware of the haggardness of her appearance.

 

                She sighed. It drained the life out of one. Five years a Mayor and for twelve years before that the real power behind two figureheads. All of it had been quiet, all of it successful, all of it--draining. How would it have been, she wondered, if there had been strain--failure --disaster.

 

                Not so bad for her personally, she suddenly decided. Action would have been invigorating. It was the horrible knowledge that nothing but drift was possible that had worn her out.

 

                It was the Seldon Plan that was successful and it was the Second Foundation that made sure it would continue to be. She, as the strong hand at the helm of the Foundation (actually theFirst Foundation, but no one on Terminus ever thought of adding the adjective) merely rode the crest.

 

                History would say little or nothing about her. She merely sat at the controls of a spaceship, while the spaceship was maneuvered from without.

 

                Even Indbur III, who had presided over the Foundation’s catastrophic fall to the Mule, had donesomething . He had, at least, collapsed.

 

                For Mayor Branno there would be nothing!

 

                Unless this Golan Trevize, this thoughtless Councilman, this lightning rod, made it possible--

 

                She looked at the map thoughtfully. It was not the kind of structure produced by a modern computer. It was, rather, a three-dimensional cluster of lights that pictured the Galaxy holographically in midair. Though it could not be made to move, to turn, to expand, or to contract, one could move about it and see it from any angle.

 

                A large section of the Galaxy, perhaps a third of the whole (excluding the core, which was a “no-life’s land”) turned red when she touched a contact. That was the Foundation Federation, the more than seven million inhabited worlds ruled by the Council and by herself--the seven million inhabited worlds who voted for and were represented in the House of Worlds, which debated matters of minor importance, and then voted on them, and never, by any chance, dealt with anything of major importance.

 

                Another contact and a faint pink jutted outward from the edges of the Federation, here and there. Spheres of influence! This was not Foundation territory, but the regions, though nominally independent, would never dream of resistance to any Foundation move.

 

                There was no question in her mind that no power in the Galaxy could oppose the Foundation (not even the Second Foundation, if one but knew where it was), that the Foundation could, at will, reach out its fleet of modern ships and simply set up the Second Empire.

 

                But only five centuries had passed since the beginning of the Plan. The Plan called for ten centuries before the Second Empire could be set up and the Second Foundation would make sure the Plan would hold. The Mayor shook her sad, gray head. If the Foundation acted now, it would somehow fail. Though its ships were irresistible, action now would fail.

 

                Unless Trevize, the lightning rod, drew the lightning of the Second Foundation--and the lightning could be traced back to its source.

 

                She looked about. Where was Kodell? This was no time for him to be late.

 

                It was as though her thought had called him, for he came striding in, smiling cheerfully, looking more grandfatherly than ever with his gray-white mustache and tanned complexion. Grandfatherly, but not old. To be sure, he was eight years younger than she was.

 

                How was it he showed no marks of strain? Did not fifteen years as Director of Security leave its scar?

 

  

 

 3.

 

  

 

 Kodell nodded slowly in the formal greeting that was necessary in initiating a discussion with the Mayor. It was a tradition that had existed since the bad days of the Indburs. Almost everything had changed, but etiquette least of all.

 

                He said, “Sorry I’m late, Mayor, but your arrest of Councilman Trevize is finally beginning to make its way through the anesthetized skin of the Council.”

 

                “Oh?” said the Mayor phlegmatically. “Are we in for a palace revolution?”

 

                “Not the least chance. We’re in control. But there’ll be noise.”

 

                “Let them make noise. It will make them feel better, and I--I shall stay out of the way. I can count, I suppose, on general public opinion?”

 

                “I think you can. Especially away from Terminus. No one outside Terminus cares what happens to a stray Councilman.”

 

                “I do.”

 

                “Ah? More news?”

 

                “Liono,” said the Mayor, “I want to know about Sayshell.”

 

                “I’m not a two-legged history book,” said Liono Kodell, smiling.

 

                “I don’t want history. I want the truth. Why is Sayshell independent? --Look at it.” She pointed to the red of the Foundation on the holographic map and there, well into the inner spirals, was an in-pocketing of white.

 

                Branno said, “We’ve got it almost encapsulated--almost sucked in--yet it’s white. Our map doesn’t even show it as a loyal-ally-in-pink.”

 

                Kodell shrugged. “It’s not officially a loyal ally, but it never bothers us. It is neutral.”

 

                “All right. See this, then.” Another touch at the controls. The red sprang out distinctly further. It covered nearly half the Galaxy. “That,” said Mayor Branno, “was the Mule’s realm at the time of his death. If you’ll peer in among the red, you’ll find the Sayshell Union, completely surrounded this time, but still white. it is the only enclave left free by the Mule.”

 

                “It was neutral then, too.”

 

                “The Mule had no great respect for neutrality.”

 

                “He seems to have had, in this case.”

 

                “Seemsto have had. What has Sayshell got?”

 

                Kodell said, “Nothing! Believe me, Mayor, she is ours any time we want her.”

 

                “Is she? Yet somehow she isn’t ours.”

 

                “There’s no need to want her.”

 

                Branno sat back in her chair and, with a sweep of her arm over the controls, turned the Galaxy dark. “I think we now want her.”

 

                “Pardon, Mayor?”

 

                “Liono, I sent that foolish Councilman into space as a lightning rod. I felt that the Second Foundation would see him as a greater danger than he was and see the Foundation itself as the lesser danger. The lightning would strike him and reveal its origin to us.”

 

                “Yes, Mayor!”

 

                “My intention was that he go to the decayed ruins of Trantor to fumble through what--if anything--was left of its Library and search for the Earth. That’s the world, you remember, that these wearisome mystics tell us was the site of origin of humanity, as though that matters, even in the unlikely case it is true. The Second

 

                Foundation couldn’t possibly have believed that was really what he was after and they would have moved to find out what he was really looking for.”

 

                “But he didn’t go to Trantor.”

 

                “No. Quite unexpectedly, he has gone to Sayshell. Why?”

 

                “I don’t know. But please forgive an old bloodhound whose duty it is to suspect everything and tell me how you know he and this Pelorat have gone to Sayshell. I know that Compor reports it, but how far can we trust Compor?”

 

                “The hyper-relay tells us that Compor’s ship has indeed landed on Sayshell Planet.”

 

                “Undoubtedly, but how do you know that Trevize and Pelorat have? Compor may have gone to Sayshell for his own reasons and may not know--or care--where the others are.”

 

                “The fact is, that our ambassador on Sayshell has informed us of the arrival of the ship on which we placed Trevize and Pelorat. I am not ready to believe the ship arrived at Sayshell without them. What is more, Compor reports having talked to them and, if he cannot be trusted, we have other reports placing them at Sayshell University, where they consulted with a historian of no particular note.”

 

                “None of this,” said Kodell mildly, “has reached me.”

 

                Branno sniffed. “Do not feel stepped on. I am dealing with this personally and the information has now reached you--with not much in the way of delay, either. The latest news--just received--is from the ambassador. Our lightning rod is moving on. He stayed on Sayshell Planet two days, then left. He is heading for another planetary system, he says, some ten parsecs away. He gave the name and the Galactic co-ordinates of his destination to the ambassador, who passed them on to us.”

 

                “Is there anything corroborative from Compor?”

 

                “Compor’s message that Trevize and Pelorat have left Sayshell came even before the ambassador’s message. Compor has not yet determined where Trevize is going. Presumably he will follow.”

 

                Kodell said, “We are missing the why’s of the situation.” He popped a pastille into his mouth and sucked at it meditatively. “Why did Trevize go to Sayshell? Why did he leave?”

 

                “The question that intrigues me most is: Where? Where is Trevize going?”

 

                “You did say, Mayor, did you not, that he gave the name and coordinates of his destination to the ambassador. Are you implying that he lied to the ambassador? Or that the ambassador is lying to us?”

 

                “Even assuming everyone told the truth all round and that no one made any errors, there is a name that interests me. Trevize told the ambassador he was going to Gaia. That’s G-A-I-A. Trevize was careful to spell it.”

 

                Kodell said, “Gaia? I never heard of it.”

 

                “Indeed? That’s not strange.” Branno pointed to the spot in the air where the map had been. “Upon the map in this room, I can set up, at a moment’s notice, every star--supposedly--around which there circles an inhabited world and many prominent stars with uninhabited systems. Over thirty million stars can be marked out--if I handle the controls properly--in single units, in pairs, in clusters. I can mark them out in any of five different colors, one at a time, or all together. What I cannot do is locate Gaia on the map. As far as the map is concerned, Gaia does not exist.”

 

                Kodell said, “For every star the map shows, there are ten thousand it doesn’t show.”

 

                “Granted, but the stars it doesn’t show lack inhabited planets and why would Trevize want to go to an uninhabited planet?”

 

                “Have you tried the Central Computer? It has all three hundred billion Galactic stars listed.”

 

                “I’ve been told it has, but does it? We know very well, you and 1, that there are thousands of inhabited planets that have escaped listing on any of our maps--not only on the one in this room, but even on the Central Computer. Gaia is apparently one of them.”

 

                Kodell’s voice remained calm, even coaxing. “Mayor, there may well be nothing at all to be concerned about. Trevize may be off on a wild goose chase or he may be lying to us and there is no star called Gaia--and no star at all at the co-ordinates he gave us. He is trying to throw us off his scent, now that he has met Compor and perhaps guesses he is being traced.”

 

                “How will this throw us off the scent? Compor will still follow. No, Liono, I have another possibility in mind, one with far greater potentiality for trouble. Listen to me--”

 

                She paused and said, “This room is shielded, Liono. Understand that. We cannot be overheard by anyone, so please feel free to speak. And I will speak freely, as well.

 

                “This Gaia is located, if we accept the information, ten parsecs from Sayshell Planet and is therefore part of the Sayshell Union. The Sayshell Union is a well-explored portion of the Galaxy. All its star systems--inhabited or not inhabited--are recorded and the inhabited ones are known in detail. Gaia is the one exception. Inhabited or not, none have heard of it; it is present in no map. Add to this that the Sayshell Union maintains a peculiar state of independence with respect to the Foundation Federation, and did so even with respect to the Mule’s former realm. It has been independent since the fall of the Galactic Empire.”

 

                “What of all this?” asked Kodell cautiously.

 

                “Surely the two points I have made must be connected. Sayshell incorporates a planetary system that is totally unknown and Sayshell is untouchable. The two cannot be independent. Whatever Gaia is, it protects itself. It sees to it that there is no knowledge of its existence outside its immediate surroundings and it protects those surroundings so that outsiders cannot take over.”

 

                “You are telling me, Mayor, that Gaia is the seat of the Second Foundation?”

 

                “I am telling you that Gaia deserves inspection.”

 

                “May I mention an odd point that might be difficult to explain by this theory?”

 

                “Please do.”

 

                “If Gaia is the Second Foundation and if, for centuries, it has protected itself physically against intruders, protecting all of the Sayshell Union as a broad, deep shield for itself, and if it has even prevented knowledge of itself leaking into the Galaxy--then why has all that protection suddenly vanished? Trevize and Pelorat leave Terminus and, even though you had advised them to go to Trantor, they go immediately and without hesitation to Sayshell and now to Gaia. What is more, you can think of Gaia and speculate on it. Why are you not somehow prevented from doing So?”

 

                Mayor Branno did not answer for a long time. Her head was bent and her gray hair gleamed dully in the light. Then she said, “Because I think Councilman Trevize has somehow upset things. He has done something--or is doing something--that is in some way endangering the Seldon Plan.”

 

                “That surely is impossible, Mayor.”

 

                “I suppose everything and everyone has its flaws. Even Hari Seldon was not perfect, surely. Somewhere the Plan has a flaw and Trevize has stumbled upon it, perhaps without even knowing that he has. We must know what is happening and we must be on the spot.”

 

                Finally Kodell looked grave. “Don’t make decisions on your own, Mayor. We don’t want to move without adequate consideration.”

 

                “Don’t take me for an idiot, Liono. I’m not going to make war. I’m not going to land an expeditionary force on Gaia. I just want to be on the spot--or near it, if you prefer. Liono, find out for me--I hate talking to a war office that is as ridiculously hidebound as one is sure to be after one hundred and twenty years of peace, but you don’t seem to mind--just how many warships are stationed close to Sayshell. Can we make their movements seem routine and not like a mobilization?”

 

                “In these piping times of peace, there are not many ships in the vicinity, I am sure. But I will find out.”

 

                “Even two or three will be sufficient, especially if one is of the Supernova class.”

 

                “What do you want to do with them?”

 

                “I want them to nudge as close to Sayshell as they can--without creating an incident--and I want them sufficiently close to each other to offer mutual support.”

 

                “What’s all this intended for?”

 

                “Flexibility. I want to be able to strike if I have to.”

 

                “Against the Second Foundation? If Gaia can keep itself isolated and untouchable against the Mule, it can surely withstand a few ships now.”

 

                Branno said, with the gleam of battle in her eyes, “My friend, I told you that nothing and no one is perfect, not even Hari Seldon. In setting up his Plan, he could not help being a person of his times. He was a mathematician of the days of the dying Empire, when technology was moribund. It followed that he could not have made sufficient allowance in his Plan for technological advance. Gravities, for instance, is a whole new direction of advance he could not possibly have guessed at. And there are other advances, too.

 

                “Gaia might also have advanced.”

 

                “In isolation? Come. There are ten quadrillion human beings within the Foundation Federation, from among whom contributors to technological advance can step forward. A single isolated world can do nothing in comparison. Our ships will advance and I will be with them.”

 

                “Pardon me, Mayor. What was that?”

 

                “I will be going myself to the ships that will gather at the borders of Sayshell. I wish to see the situation for myself.”

 

                Kodell’s mouth fell open for a moment. He swallowed and made a distinct noise as he did so. “Mayor, that is--not wise.” If ever a man clearly intended a stronger remark, Kodell did.

 

                “Wise or not,” said Branno violently, “I will do it. I am tired of Terminus and of its endless political battles, its infighting, its alliances and counteralliances, its betrayals and renewals. I’ve had seventeen years at the center of it and I want to do something else--anything else. Out there,” she waved her hand in a direction taken at random, “the whole history of the Galaxy may be changing and I want to take part in the process.”

 

                “You know nothing about such things, Mayor.”

 

                “Who does, Liono?” She rose stiffly to her feet. “As soon as you bring me the information I need on the ships and as soon as I can make arrangements for carrying on with the foolish business at home, I will go. --And, Liono, don’t try to maneuver me out of this decision in any way or I’ll wipe out our long friendship in a stroke and break you. I can still dothat .”

 

                Kodell nodded. “I know you can, Mayor, but before you decide, may I ask you to reconsider the power of Seldon’s Plan? What you intend may be suicide.”

 

                “I have no fears on that score, Liono. It was wrong with respect to the Mule, whom it could not anticipate--and a failure to anticipate at one time implies the possibility of failure at another.”

 

                Kodell sighed. “Well then, if you are really determined, I will support you to the best of my ability and with complete loyalty.”

 

                “Good. I warn you once again that you had better mean that remark with all your heart. And with that in mind, Liono, let us move on to Gaia. Forward!”

 

  

 

  

 

 15. GAIA-S

 

  

 

 1.

 

  

 

       SURA NOVI NOW STEPPED INTO THE CONTROL ROOM OF THE SMALL AND rather old-fashioned ship that was carrying Stor Gendibal and herself across the parsecs in deliberate Jumps.

 

                She had clearly been in the compact cleaning room, where oils, warm air, and a minimum of water freshened her body. She had a robe wrapped about her and was holding it tightly to herself in an agony of modesty. Her hair was dry but tangled.

 

                She said in a low voice, “Master?”

 

                Gendibal looked up from his charts and from his computer. “Yes, Novi?”

 

                “I be sorrow-laden--” She paused and then said slowly, “I am very sorry to bother you, Master” (then she slipped again) “but I be loss-ridden for my clothing.”

 

                “Your clothing?” Gendibal stared at her blankly for a moment and then rose to his feet in an access of contrition. “Novi, I forgot. They needed cleaning and they’re in the detergent-hamper. They’re cleaned, dried, folded, all set. I should have taken them out and placed them in clear sight. I forgot.”

 

                “I did not like to--to--” (she looked down at herself) “offend.”

 

                “You don’t offend,” said Gendibal cheerily. “Look, I promise you that when this is over I shall see to it that you have a great deal of clothing--new and in the latest fashion. We left in a hurry and it never occurred to me to bring a supply, but really, Novi, there are only the two of us and we’ll be together for some time in very close quarters and it’s needless to be--to be--so concerned--about--” He gestured vaguely, became aware of the horrified look in her eyes, and thought: Well, she’s only a country girl after all and has her standards; probably wouldn’t object to improprieties of all kinds--but with her clothes on.

 

                Then he felt ashamed of himself and was glad that she was no “scholar” who could sensehis thoughts. He said, “Shall I get your clothes for you?”

 

                “Oh no, Master. It be not for you-- I know where they are.”

 

                He next saw her properly dressed and with her hair combed. There was a distinct shyness about her. “I am ashamed, Master, to have behaved so improper--ly. I should have found them for myself.”

 

                “No matter,” said Gendibal. “You are doing very well with your Galactic, Novi. You are picking up the language of scholars very quickly.”

 

                Novi smiled suddenly. Her teeth were somewhat uneven, but that scarcely detracted from the manner in which her face brightened and grew almost sweet under praise, thought Gendibal. He told himself that it was for that reason that he rather liked to praise her.

 

                The Hamish will think little of me when I am back home,” she said. “They will say I be--ama word-chopper. That is what they call someone who speaks--odd. They do not like such.”

 

                “I doubt that you will be going back to the Hamish, Novi,” said Gendibal. “I am sure there will continue to be a place for you in the complex--with the scholars, that is--when this is over.”

 

                “I would like that, Master.”

 

                “I don’t suppose you would care to call me ‘Speaker Gendibal’ or just-- No, I see you wouldn’t,” he said, responding to her look of scandalized objection. “Oh well.”

 

                “It would not be fitting, Master. --But may I ask when this will be over?”

 

                Gendibal shook his head. “I scarcely know. Right now, I must merely get to a particular place as quickly as I can. This ship, which is a very good ship for its kind, is slow and ‘as quickly as I can’ is not very quick. You see” (he gestured at the computer and the charts) “I must work out ways to get across large stretches of space, but the computer is limited in its abilities and I am not very skillful.”

 

                “Must you be there quickly because there is danger, Master?”

 

                “What makes you think there is danger, Novi?”

 

                “Because I watch you sometimes when I don’t think you see me and your face looks--I do not know the word. Not afeared--I mean, frightened--and not bad-expecting, either.”

 

                “Apprehensive,” muttered Gendibal.

 

                “You look--concerned. Is that the word?”

 

                “It depends. What do you mean by concerned, Novi?”

 

                “I means you look as though you are saying to yourself, ‘What am I going to do next in this great trouble?”

 

                Gendibal looked astonished. “That is ‘concerned,’ but do you seethat in my face, Novi? Back in the Place of Scholars, I am extremely careful that no one should see anything in my face, but I did think that, alone in space--except for you--I could relax and let it sit around in its underwear, so to speak. --I’m sorry. That has embarrassed you.. What I’m trying to say is that if you’re so perceptive, I shall have to be more careful. Every once in a while I have to relearn the lesson that even nonmentalics can make shrewd guesses.”

 

                Novi looked blank. “I don’t understand, Master.”

 

                “I’m talking to myself, Novi. Don’t be concerned. --See, there’s that word again.”

 

                “But is there danger?”

 

                “There’s a problem, Novi. I do not know what I shall find when I reach Sayshell--that is the place to which we are going. I may find myself in a situation of great difficulty.”

 

                “Does that not mean danger?”

 

                “No, because I will be able to handle it.”

 

                “How can you tell this?”

 

                “Because I am a--scholar. And I am the best of them. There is nothing in the Galaxy I cannot handle.”

 

                “Master,” and something very like agony twisted Novi’s face, “I do not wish to offensify--I mean, give offense--and make you angry. I have seen you with that oafish Rufirant and you were in danger then--and he was only a Hamish farmer. Now I do not know what awaits you--and you do not, either.”

 

                Gendibal felt chagrined, “Are you afraid, Novi?”

 

                “Not for myself, Master. I fear--I am afraid--for you.”

 

                “You can say, ‘I fear,” muttered Gendibal. “That is good Galactic, too.”

 

                For a moment he was engaged in thought. Then he looked up, took Sura Novi’s rather coarse hands in his, and said, “Novi, I don’t want you to fear anything. Let me explain. You know how you could tell there was--or rather might be--danger from the look on my face--almost as though you could read my thoughts?”

 

                “Yes?”

 

                “I can read thoughts better than you can. That is what scholars learn to do and I am a very good scholar.”

 

                Novi’s eyes widened and her hand pulled loose from his. She seemed to be holding her breath. “You can read my thoughts?”

 

                Gendibal held up a finger hurriedly. “I don’t, Novi. Idon’t read your thoughts, except when I must. I donotread your thoughts.”

 

                (He knew that, in a practical sense, he was lying. It was impossible to be with Sura Novi and not understand the general tenor of some of her thoughts. One scarcely needed to be a Second Foundationer for that. Gendibal felt himself to be on the edge of blushing. But even from a Hamishwoman, such an attitude was flattering.

 

                --And yet she had to be reassured--out of common humanity--)

 

                He said, “I can also change the way people think. I can make people feel hurt. I can--”

 

                But Novi was shaking her head. “How can you do all that, Master? Rufirant--”

 

                “Forget Rufirant,” said Gendibal testily. “I could have stopped him in a moment. I could have made him fall to the ground. I could have madeall the Hamish--” He stopped suddenly and felt uneasily that he was boasting, that he was trying to impress this provincial woman. And she was shaking her head still.

 

                “Master,” she said, “you are trying to make me not afraid, but I am not afraid except for you, so there is no need. I know you are a great scholar and can make this ship fly through space where it seems to me that no person could do aught but--I mean, anything but--be lost. And you use machines I cannot understand--and that no Hamish person could understand. But you need not tell me of these powers of mind, which surely cannot be so, since all the things you say you could have done to Rufirant, you didnot do, though you were in danger.”

 

                Gendibal pressed his lips together. Leave it at that, he thought. If the woman insists she is not afraid for herself, let it go at that. Yet he did not want her to think of him as a weakling and braggart. He simply didnot .

 

                He said, “If I did nothing to Rufirant, it was because I did not wish to. We scholars must never do anything to the Hamish. We are guests on your world. Do you understand that?”

 

                “You are our masters. That is whatwe always say.”

 

                For a moment Gendibal was diverted. “How is it, then, that this Rufirant attacked me?”

 

                “I do not know,” she said simply. “I don’t think he knew. He must have been mind-wandering--uh, out of his mind.”

 

                Gendibal grunted. “In any case, we do not harm the Hamish. If I had been forced to stop him by--hurting him, I might have been poorly thought of by the other scholars and might perhaps have lost my position. But to save myself being badly hurt, I might have had to handle him just a small bit--the smallest possible.”

 

                Novi drooped. “Then I need not have come rushing in like a great fool myself.”

 

                “You did exactly right,” said Gendibal. “I have just said I would have done ill to have hurt him. You made it unnecessary to do so.You stopped him and that was well done. I am grateful.”

 

                She smiled again--blissfully. “I see, then, why you have been so kind to me.”

 

                “I was grateful, of course,” said Gendibal, a little flustered, “but the important thing is that you must understand there is no danger. I can handle an army of ordinary people. Any scholar can-- especially the important ones--and I told you I am the best of all of them. There is no one in the Galaxy who can stand against me.”

 

                “If you say so, Master, I am sure of it.”

 

                “I do say so. Now, are you afraid for me?”

 

                “No, Master, except-- Master, is it onlyour scholars who can read minds and-- Are there other scholars, other places, who can oppose you?”

 

                For a moment Gendibal was staggered. The woman had an astonishing gift of penetration.

 

                It was necessary to lie. He said, “There are none.”

 

                “But there are so many stars in the sky. I once tried to count them and couldn’t. If there are as many worlds of people as there are stars, wouldn’t some of them be scholars? Besides the scholars on our own world, I mean?”

 

                “No.”

 

                “What if there are?”

 

                “They would not be as strong as I am.”

 

                “What if they leap upon you suddenly before you are aware?”

 

                “They cannot do that. If any strange scholar were to approach, I would know at once. I would know it long before he could harm me.”

 

                “Could you run?”

 

                “I would not have to run. --But” (anticipating her objection) “if

 

                I had to, I could be in a new ship soon--better than any in the Galaxy. They would not catch me.”

 

                “Might they not change your thoughts and make you stay?”

 

                “No.”

 

                “There might be many of them. You are but one.”

 

                “As soon as they are there, long before they can imagine it would be possible, I would know they were there and I would leave. Our whole world of scholars would then turn against them and they would not stand. And they would know that, so they would not dare do anything against me. In fact, they would not want me to know of them at all--and yet I will.”

 

                “Because you are so much better than they?” said Novi, her face shining with a doubtful pride.

 

                Gendibal could not resist. Her native intelligence, her quick understanding was such that it was simple joy to be with her. That softvoiced monster, Speaker Debra Delarmi, had done him an incredible favor when she had forced this Hamish farmwoman upon him.

 

                He said, “No, Novi, not because I am better than they, although I am. It is because I haveyou with me.”

 

                “I?”

 

                “Exactly, Novi. Had you guessed that?”

 

                “No, Master,” she said, wondering. “What is it I could do?”

 

                “It is your mind.” He held up his hand at once. “I am not reading your thoughts. I see merely the outline of your mind and it is a smooth outline, an unusually smooth outline.”

 

                She put her hand to her forehead. “Because I am unlearned, Master? Because I am so foolish?”

 

                “No, dear.” He did not notice the manner of address. “It is because you are honest and possess no guile; because you are truthful and speak your mind; because you are warm of heart and--and other things. If other scholars send out anything to touch our minds-- yours and mine--the touch will be instantly visible on the smoothness of your mind. I will be aware of that even before I would be aware of a touch on my own mind--and I will then have time for counteractive strategy; that is, to fight it off.”

 

                There was a silence for long moments after that. Gendibal realized that it was not just happiness in Novi’s eyes, but exultation and pride, too. She said softly, “And you took me with you for that reason?”

 

                Gendibal nodded. “That was an important reason. Yes.”

 

                Her voice sank to a whisper. “How can I help as much as possible, Master?”

 

                He said. “Remain calm. Don’t be afraid. And just--just stay as you are.”

 

                She said, “I will stay as I am. And I will stand between you and danger, as I did in the case of Rufirant.”

 

                She left the room and Gendibal looked after her.

 

                It was strange how much there was to her. How could so simple a creature hold such complexity? The smoothness of her mind structure had, beneath it, enormous intelligence, understanding, and courage. What more could he ask--of anyone?

 

                Somehow, he caught an image of Sura Novi--who was not a Speaker, not even a Second Foundationer, not even educated-- grimly at his side, playing a vital auxiliary role in the drama that was coming.

 

                Yet he could not see the details clearly. --He could not yet see precisely what it was that awaited them.

 

  

 

 2.

 

  

 

 “A single Jump,” muttered Trevize, “and there it is.”

 

                “Gaia?” asked Pelorat, looking over Trevize’s shoulder at the screen.

 

                “Gaia’s sun,” said Trevize. “Call it Gaia-S, if you like, to avoid confusion. Gaiactographers do that sometimes.”

 

                “And where is Gaia itself, then? Or do we call it Gaia-P--for planet?”

 

                “Gaia would be sufficient for the planet. We can’t see Gaia yet, however. Planets aren’t as easy to see as stars are and we’re still a hundred microparsecs away from Gaia-S. Notice that it’s only a star, even though a very bright one. We’re not close enough for it to show as a disc. --And don’t stare at it directly, Janov. It’s still bright enough to damage the retina. I’ll throw in a filter, once I’m through with my observations. Then you can stare.”

 

                “How much is a hundred microparsecs in units which a mythologist can understand, Golan?”

 

                “Three billion kilometers; about twenty times the distance of Terminus from our own sun. Does that help?”

 

                “Enormously. --But shouldn’t we get closer?”

 

                “No!” Trevize looked up in surprise. “Not right away. After what we’ve heard about Gaia, why should we rush? It’s one thing to have guts; it’s another to be crazy. Let’s take a look first.”

 

                “At what, Golan? You said we can’t see Gaia yet?”

 

                “Not at a glance, no. But we have telescopic viewers and we have an excellent computer for rapid analysis. We can certainly study Gaia-S, to begin with, and we can perhaps make a few other observations. --Relax, Janov” He reached out and slapped the other’s shoulder with an avuncular flourish.

 

                After a pause Trevize said, “Gaia-S is a single star or, if it has a companion, that companion is much farther away from it than we are at the present moment and it is, at best, a red dwarf, which means we need not be concerned with it. Gaia-S is a G4 star, which means it is perfectly capable of having a habitable planet, and that’s good. If it were an A or an M, we would have to turn around and leave right now.”

 

                Pelorat said, “I may be only a mythologist, but couldn’t we have determined the spectral class of Gaia-S from Sayshell?”

 

                “We could and we did, Janov, but it never hurts to check at closer quarters. --Gaia-S has a planetary system, which is no surprise. There are two gas giants in view and one of them is nice and large--if the computer’s distance estimate is accurate. There could easily be another on the other side of the star and therefore not easily detectable, since we happen--by chance--to be somewhat close to the planetary plane. I can’t make out anything in the inner regions, which is also no surprise.”

 

                “Is that bad?”

 

                “Not really. It’s expected. The habitable planets would be of rock and metal and would be much smaller than the gas giants and much closer to the star, if they’re to be warm enough--and on both counts they would be much harder to see from out here. It means we’ll have to get in considerably closer in order to probe the area within four microparsecs of Gaia-S.”

 

                “I’m ready.”

 

                “I’m not. We’ll make the Jump tomorrow.”

 

                “Why tomorrow?”

 

                “Why not? Let’s give them a day to come out and get us--and for us to get away, perhaps, if we spot them coming and don’t like what we see.”

 

  

 

 3.

 

  

 

 It was a slow and cautious process. During the day that passed, Trevize grimly directed the calculation of several different approaches and tried to choose between them. Lacking hard data, he could depend only on intuition, which unfortunately told him nothing. He lacked that “sureness” he sometimes experienced.

 

                Eventually he punched in directions for a Jump that moved them far out of the planetary plane.

 

                “That will give us a better view of the region as a whole,” he said, “since we will see the planets in every part of their orbit at maximum apparent distance from the sun. Andthey --whoever they may be--might not be quite as watchful over regions outside the plane. --I hope.”

 

                They were now as close to Gaia-S as the nearest and largest of the gas giants was and they were nearly half a billion kilometers from it. Trevize placed it under full magnification on the screen for Pelorat’s benefit. It was an impressive sight, even if the three sparse and narrow rings of debris were left out of account.

 

                “It has the usual train of satellites,” said Trevize, “but at this distance from Gaia-S, we know that none of them are habitable. Nor are any of them settled by ‘human beings who survive, let us say, under a glass dome or under other strictly artificial conditions.”

 

                “How can you tell?”

 

                “There’s no radio noise with characteristics that point them out as of intelligent origin. Of course,” he added, qualifying his statement at once, “it is conceivable that a scientific outpost might go to great pains to shield its radio signals and the gas giant produces radio noise that could mask what I was looking for. Still, our radio reception is delicate and our computer is an extraordinarily good one. I’d say the chance of human occupation of those satellites is extremely small.”

 

                “Does that mean there’s no Gaia?”

 

                “No. But it does mean that if thereis a Gaia, it hasn’t bothered to settle those satellites. Perhaps it lacks the capacity to do so--or the interest.”

 

                “Well,is there a Gaia?”

 

                “Patience, Janov. Patience.”

 

                Trevize considered the sky with a seemingly endless supply of patience. He stopped at one point to say, “Frankly, the fact that they haven’t come out to pounce on us is disheartening, in a way. Surely, if they had the capacities they were described as having, they would have reacted to us by now.”

 

                “It’s conceivable, I suppose,” said Pelorat glumly, “that the whole thing is a fantasy.”

 

                “Call it a myth, Janov,” said Trevize with a wry smile, “and it will be right up your alley. Still, there’s a planet moving through the ecosphere, which means it might be habitable. I’ll want to observe it for at least a day.”

 

                “Why?”

 

                “To make sure it’s habitable, for one thing.”

 

                “You just said it was in the ecosphere, Golan.”

 

                “Yes, at the moment it is. But its orbit could be very eccentric, and could eventually carry it within a microparsec of the star, or out to fifteen microparsecs, or both. We’ll have to determine and compare the planet’s distance from Gaia-S with its orbital speed--and it would help to note the direction of its motion.”

 

  

 

 4.

 

  

 

 Another day.

 

                “The orbit is nearly circular,” Trevize said finally, “which means that habitability becomes a much safer bet. Yet no one’s coming out to get us even now. We’ll have to try a closer look.”

 

                Pelorat said, “Why does it take so long to arrange a Jump? You’re just taking little ones.”

 

                “Listen to the man. Little Jumps are harder to control than big ones. Is it easier to pick up a rock or a fine grain of sand? Besides, Gaia-S is nearby and space is sharply curved. That complicates the calculations even for the computer. Even a mythologist should see that.”

 

                Pelorat grunted.

 

                Trevize said, “You can see the planet with the unaided eye now. Right there. See it? The period of rotation is about twenty-two Galactic Hours and the axial inclination is twelve degrees. It is practically a textbook example of a habitable planet and itis life-bearing.”

 

                “How can you tell?”

 

                “There are substantial quantities of free oxygen in the atmosphere. You can’t have that without well-established vegetation.”

 

                “What about intelligent life?”

 

                “That depends on the analysis of radio-wave radiation. Of course, there could be intelligent life that has abandoned technology, I suppose, but that seems very unlikely.”

 

                “There have been cases of that,” said Pelorat.

 

                “I’ll take your word for it. That’s your department. However, it’s not likely that there would be nothing but pastoral survivors on a planet that frightened off the Mule.”

 

                Pelorat said, “Does it have a satellite?”

 

                “Yes, it does,” said Trevize casually.

 

                “How big?” Pelorat said in a voice that was suddenly choking.

 

                “Can’t tell for sure. Perhaps a hundred kilometers across.”

 

                “Dear me,” said Pelorat wistfully. “I wish I had some worthier set of expletives on instant call, my dear chap, but there was just that one little chance--”

 

                “You mean, if it had a giant satellite, it might be Earth itself?”

 

                “Yes, but it clearly isn’t.”

 

                “Well, if Compor is right, Earth wouldn’t be in this Galactic region, anyway. It would be over Sirius way. --Really, Janov, I’m sorry.”

 

                “Oh well.”

 

                “Look, we’ll wait, and risk one more small Jump. If we find no signs of intelligent life, then it should be safe to land--except that there will then be no reason to land, will there?”

 

  

 

 5.

 

  

 

 After the next Jump, Trevize said in an astonished voice, “That does it, Janov. It’s Gaia, all right. At least, it possesses a technological civilization.”

 

                “Can you tell that from the radio waves?”

 

                “Better than that. There’s a space station circling the planet. Do you see that?”

 

                There was an object on display on the viewscreen. To Pelorat’s unaccustomed eye, it didn’t seem very remarkable, but Trevize said, “Artificial, metallic, and a radio-source.”

 

                “What do we do now?”

 

                “Nothing, for a while. At this stage of technology, they cannot fail to detect us. If, after a while, they do nothing, I will beam a radio message at them. If they still do nothing, I will approach cautiously.”

 

                “What if theydo do something?”

 

                “It will depend on the ‘something.’ If I don’t like it, then I’ll have to take advantage of the fact that it is very unlikely that they have anything that can match the facility with which this ship can make a Jump.”

 

                “You mean we’ll leave?”

 

                “Like a hyperspatial missile.”

 

                “But we’ll leave no wiser than we came.”

 

                “Not at all. At the very least we’ll know that Gaia exists, that it has a working technology, and that it’s done something to scare us.”

 

                “But, Golan, let’s not be too easily scared.”

 

                “Now, Janov, I know that you want nothing more in the Galaxy than to learn about Earth at any cost, but please remember that I don’t share your monomania. We are in an unarmed ship and those people down there have been isolated for centuries. Suppose they have never heard of the Foundation and don’t know enough to be respectful of it. Or suppose thisis the Second Foundation and once we’re in their grip--if they’re annoyed with us--we may never be the same again. Do you want them to wipe your mind clear and find you are no longer a mythologist and know nothing about any legends whatever?”

 

                Pelorat looked grim. “If you put it that way-- But what do we do once we leave?”

 

                “Simple. We get back to Terminus with the news. --Or as near to Terminus as the old woman will allow. Then we might return to Gaia once again--more quickly and without all this inching along-- and we return with an armed ship or an armed fleet. Things may well be different then.”

 

  

 

 6.

 

  

 

 They waited. It had grown to be a routine. They had spent far more time waiting in the approaches to Gaia than they had spent in all the flight from Terminus to Sayshell.

 

                Trevize set the computer to automatic alarm and was even nonchalant enough to doze in his padded chair.

 

                This meant he woke with a start when the alarm chimed. Pelorat came into Trevize’s room, just as startled. He bad been interrupted while shaving.

 

                “Have we received a message?” asked Pelorat.

 

                “No,” said Trevize energetically. “We’re moving.”

 

                “Moving? Where?”

 

                “Toward the space station.”

 

                “Why is that?”

 

                “I don’t know. The motors are on and the computer doesn’t respond to me--but we’re moving. --Janov, we’ve been seized. We’ve come a little too close to Gaia.”

 

  

 

  

 

 16. CONVERGENCE

 

  

 

 1.

 

  

 

       WHEN STOR GENDIBAL FINALLY MADE OUT COMPOR’S SHIP ON HIS viewscreen, it seemed like the end of an incredibly long journey. Yet, of course, it was not the end, but merely the beginning. The journey from Trantor to Sayshell had been nothing but prologue.

 

                Novi looked awed. “Is that another ship of space, Master?”

 

                “Spaceship, Novi. It is. It’s the one we have been striving to reach. It is a larger ship than this one--and a better one. It can move through space so quickly that if it fled from us, this ship could not possibly catch it--or even follow it.”

 

                “Faster than a ship of the masters?” Sura Novi seemed appalled by the thought.

 

                Gendibal shrugged. “I may be, as you say, a master, but I am not a master in all things. We scholars do not have ships like these, nor do we have many of the material devices that the owners of those ships have.”

 

                “But how can scholars lack such things, Master?”

 

                “Because we are masters in what is important. The material advances that these others have are trifles.”

 

                Novi’s brows bent together in thought. “It seems to me that to go so quickly that a master cannot follow is no trifle. Who are these people who are wonder-having--who have such things?”

 

                Gendibal was amused. “They call themselves the Foundation. Have you ever heard of the Foundation?”

 

                (He caught himself wondering what the Hamish knew or did not know of the Galaxy and why it never occurred to the Speakers to wonder about such things. --Or was it only he who had never wondered about such things--only he who assumed that the Hamish cared for nothing more than grubbing in the soil.)

 

                Novi shook her head thoughtfully. “I have never heard of it, Master. When the schoolmaster taught me letter-lore--how to read, I mean--he told me there were many other worlds and told me the names of some. He said our Hamish world had the proper name of Trantor and that it once ruled all the worlds. He said Trantor was covered with gleaming iron and had an Emperor who was an allmaster.”

 

                Her eyes looked up at Gendibal with a shy merriment. “I unbelieve most of it, though. There are many stories the wordspinners tell in the meeting-halls in the time of longer nights. When I was a small girl, I believed them all, but as I grew older, I found that many of them were not true. I believe very few now; perhaps none. Even schoolmasters tell unbelievables.”

 

                “Just the same, Novi, that particular story of the schoolmaster is true--but it was long ago. Trantor was indeed covered by metal and had indeed an Emperor who ruled all the Galaxy. Now, however, it is the people of the Foundation who will someday rule all the worlds. They grow stronger all the time.”

 

                “They will ruleall , Master?”

 

                “Not immediately. In five hundred years.”

 

                “And they will master the masters as well?”

 

                “No, no. They will rule the worlds. We will rulethem --for their safety and the safety of all the worlds.”

 

                Novi was frowning again. She said, “Master, do these people of the Foundation have many of these remarkable ships?”

 

                “I imagine so, Novi.”

 

                “And other things that are very--astonishing?”

 

                “They have powerful weapons of all kinds.”

 

                “Then, Master, can they not take all the worlds now?”

 

                “No, they cannot. It is not yet time.”

 

                “But why can they not? Would the masters stop them?”

 

                “We wouldn’t have to, Novi. Even if we did nothing, they could not take all the worlds.”

 

                “But what would stop them?”

 

                “You see,” began Gendibal, “there is a plan that a wise man once devised--”

 

                He stopped, smiled slightly, and shook his head. “It is hard to explain, Novi. Another time, perhaps. In fact, when you see what will happen before we ever see Trantor again, you may even understand without my explaining.”

 

                “What will happen, Master?”

 

                “I am not sure, Novi. But all will happen well.”

 

                He turned away and prepared to make contact with Compor. And, as he did so, he could not quite keep an inner thought from saying: At least I hope so.

 

                He was instantly angry with himself, for he knew the source of that foolish and weakening drift of thought. It was the picture of the elaborate and enormous Foundation might in the shape of Compor’s ship and it was his chagrin at Novi’s open admiration of it.

 

                Stupid! How could he let himself compare the possession of mere strength and power with the possession of the ability to guide events? It was what generations of Speakers had called “the fallacy of the hand at the throat.”

 

                To think that he was not yet immune to its allures.

 

  

 

 2.

 

  

 

 Munn Li Compor was not in the least sure as to how he ought to comport himself. For most of his life, he had had the vision of all-powerful Speakers existing just beyond his circle of experience-- Speakers, with whom he was occasionally in contact and who had, in their mysterious grip, the whole of humanity.

 

                Of them all, it had been Stor Gendibal to whom, in recent years, he had turned for direction. It was not even a voice he had encountered most times, but a mere presence in his mind--hyperspeech without a hyper-relay.

 

                In this respect, the Second Foundation had gone far beyond the Foundation. Without material device, but just by the educated and advanced power of the mind alone, they could reach across the par. sees in a manner that could not be tapped, could not be infringed upon. It was an invisible, indetectable network that held all the worlds fast through the mediation of a relatively few dedicated individuals.

 

                Compor had, more than once, experienced a kind of uplifting at the thought of his role. How small the band of which he was one; how enormous an influence they exerted. --And how secret it all was. Even his wife knew nothing of his hidden life.

 

                And it was the Speakers who held the strings--and this one Speaker, this Gendibal, who might (Compor thought) be the next First Speaker, the more-than-Emperor of a more-than-Empire.

 

                Now Gendibal was here, in a ship of Trantor, and Compor fought to stifle his disappointment at not having such a meeting take place on Trantor itself.

 

                Couldthat be a ship of Trantor? Any of the early Traders who had carried the Foundation’s wares through a hostile Galaxy would have had a better ship than that. No wonder it had taken the Speaker so long to cover the distance from Trantor to Sayshell.

 

                It was not even equipped with a unidock mechanism that would have welded the two ships into one when the crosstransfer of personnel was desired. Even the contemptible Sayshellian fleet was equipped with it. Instead, the Speaker had to match velocities and then cast a tether across the gap and swing along it, as in Imperial days.

 

                That was it, thought Compor gloomily, unable to repress the feeling. The ship was no more than an old-fashioned Imperial vessel-- and a small one at that.

 

                Two figures were moving across the tether--one of them so clumsily that it was clear it had never attempted to maneuver through space before.

 

                Finally they were on board and removed their space suits. Speaker Stor Gendibal was of moderate height and of unimpressive appearance; he was not large and powerful, nor did he exude an air of learning. His dark, deep-set eyes were the only indication of his wisdom. But now the Speaker looked about with a clear indication of being in awehimself .

 

                The other was a woman as tall as Gendibal, plain in appearance. Her mouth was open in astonishment as she looked about.

 

  

 

 3.

 

  

 

 Moving across the tether had not been an entirely unpleasant experience for Gendibal. He was not a spaceman--no Second Foundationer was--but neither was he a complete surface worm, for no Second Foundationer was allowed to be that. The possible need for space flight was, after all, always looming above them, though every Second Foundationer hoped the need would arise only infrequently. (Preem Palver--the extent of whose space travels was legendary-- had once said, ruefully, that the measure of the success of a Speaker was the fewness of the times he was compelled to move through space in order to assure the success of the Plan.)

 

                Gendibal had had to use a tether three times before. This was his fourth use and even if he had felt tension over the matter, it would have disappeared in his concern for Sura Novi. He needed no mentalics to see that stepping into nothingness had totally upset her.

 

                “I be afeared, Master,” she said when he explained what would have to be done. “It be naughtness into which I will make footstep.” If nothing else, her sudden descent into thick Hamish dialect showed the extent of her disturbance.

 

                Gendibal said gently, “I cannot leave you on board this ship, Novi, for I will be going into the other and I must have you with me. There is no danger, for your space suit will protect you from all harm and there is no place for you to fall to. Even if you lose your grip on the tether, you will remain nearly where you are and I will be within arm’s reach so that I can gather you in. Come, Novi, show me that you are brave enough--as well as bright enough--to become a scholar.”

 

                She made no further objection and Gendibal, unwilling to do anything that might disturb the smoothness of her mind-set, nevertheless managed to inject a soothing touch upon the surface of her mind.

 

                “You can still speak to me,” he said, after they were each enclosed in a space suit. “I can hear you if you think hard. Think the words hard and clearly, one by one. You can hear me now, can’t you?”

 

                “Yes, Master,” she said.

 

                He could see her lips move through the transparent faceplate and he said, “Say it without moving your lips, Novi. There is no radio in the kind of suits that scholars have. it is all done with the mind.”

 

                Her lips did not move and her look grew more anxious: Can you hear me, Master?

 

                Perfectly well, thought Gendibal--and his lips did not move either: Do you hear me?

 

                I do, Master.

 

                Then come with me and do as I do.

 

                They moved across. Gendibal knew the theory of it, even if he could handle the practice only moderately well. The trick was to keep one’s legs extended and together and to swing them from the hips alone. That kept the center of gravity moving in a straight line as the arms swung forward in steady alternation. He had explained this to Sura Novi and, without turning to look at her, he studied the stance of her body from the set of the motor areas of her brain.

 

                For a first-timer, she did very well, almost as well as Gendibal was managing to do. She repressed her own tensions and she followed directions. Gendibal found himself, once again, very pleased with her.

 

                She was, however, clearly glad to be on board ship again--and so was Gendibal. He looked about as he removed his space suit and was rather dumbfounded at the luxury and style of the equipment. He recognized almost nothing and his heart sank at the thought that he might have very little time to learn how to handle it all. He might have to transfer expertise directly from the man already on board, something that was never quite as satisfactory as true learning.

 

                Then he concentrated on Compor. Compor was tall and lean, a few years older than himself, rather handsome in a slightly weak way, with tightly waved hair of a startling buttery yellow.

 

                And it was clear to Gendibal that this person was disappointed in, and even contemptuous of, the Speaker he was now meeting for the first time. What was more, he was entirely unsuccessful in hiding the fact.

 

                Gendibal did not mind such things, on the whole. Compor was not a Trantorian--nor a full Second Foundationer--and he clearly had his illusions. Even the most superficial scan of his mind showed that. Among these was the illusion that true power was necessarily related to the appearance of power. He might, of course, keep his illusions as long as they did not interfere with what Gendibal needed, but at the present moment, this particular illusiondid so interfere.

 

                What Gendibal did was the mentalic equivalent of a snap of the fingers. Compor staggered slightly under the impress of a sharp but fleeting pain. There was an impress of enforced concentration that puckered the skin of his thought and left the man with the awareness of a casual but awesome power that could be utilized if the Speaker chose.

 

                Compor was left with a vast respect for Gendibal.

 

                Gendibal said pleasantly, “I am merely attracting your attention, Compor, my friend. Please let me know the present whereabouts of your friend, Golan Trevize, and his friend, Janov Pelorat.”

 

                Compor said hesitantly, “Shall I speak in the presence of the woman, Speaker?”

 

                “The woman, Compor, is an extension of myself. There is no reason, therefore, why you should not speak openly.”

 

                “As you say, Speaker. Trevize and Pelorat are now approaching a planet known as Gaia.”

 

                “So you said in your last communication the other day. Surely they have already landed on Gaia and perhaps left again. They did not stay long on Sayshell Planet.”

 

                “They had not yet landed during the time I followed them, Speaker. They were approaching the planet with great caution, pausing substantial periods between micro-Jumps. it is clear to me they have no information about the planet they are approaching and therefore hesitate.”

 

                “Doyou have information, Compor?”

 

                “I have none, Speaker,” said Compor, “or at least my ship’s computer has none.”

 

                “This computer?” Gendibal’s eyes fell upon the control panel and he asked in sudden hope, “Can it aid usefully in running the ship?”

 

                “It can run the ship completely, Speaker. One need merely think into it.”

 

                Gendibal felt suddenly uneasy. “The Foundation has gone that far?”

 

                “Yes, but clumsily. The computer does not work well. I must repeat my thoughts several times and even then I get but minimal information.”

 

                Gendibal said, “I may be able to do better than that.”

 

                “I am sure of it, Speaker,” said Compor respectfully.

 

                “But never mind that for the moment. Why does it have no information on Gaia?”

 

                “I do not know, Speaker. It claims to have--as far as a computer may be said to be able toclaim --records on every human-inhabited planet in the Galaxy.”

 

                “It cannot have more information than has been fed into it and if those who did the feeding thought they had records of all such planets when, in actual fact, they had not, then the computer would labor under the same misapprehension. Correct?”

 

                “Certainly, Speaker.”

 

                “Did you inquire at Sayshell?”

 

                “Speaker,” said Compor uneasily, “there are people who speak of

 

                Gaia on Sayshell, but what they say is valueless. Clearly superstition. The tale they tell is that Gaia is a powerful world that held off even the Mule.”

 

                “Is that what they say, indeed?” said Gendibal, suppressing excitement. “Were you so sure that this was superstition that you asked for no details?”

 

                “No, Speaker. I asked a great deal, but what I have just told you is all that anyone can say. They can speak on the subject at great length, but when they have done so, all that it boils down to is what I have just said.”

 

                “Apparently,” said Gendibal, “that is what Trevize has heard, too, and he goes to Gaia for some reason connected with that--to tap this great power, perhaps. And he does so cautiously, for perhaps he also fears this great power.”

 

                “That is certainly possible, Speaker.”

 

                “And yet you did not follow?”

 

                “I did follow, Speaker, long enough to make sure he was indeed making for Gaia. I then returned here to the outskirts of the Gaian system.”

 

                “Why?”

 

                “Three reasons, Speaker. First, you were about to arrive and I wanted to meet you at least partway and bring you aboard at the earliest moment, as you had directed. Since my ship has a hyperrelay on board, I could not move too far away from Trevize and Pelorat without rousing suspicion on Terminus, but I judged I could risk moving this far. Second, when it was clear that Trevize was approaching Gaia Planet very slowly, I judged there would be time enough for me to move toward you and hasten our meeting without being overtaken by events, especially since you would be more competent than I to follow him to the planet itself and to handle any emergency that might arise.”

 

                “Quite true. And the third reason?”

 

                “Since our last communication, Speaker, something has happened that I did not expect and do not understand. I felt that--for that reason, too--I had better hasten our meeting as soon as I dared.”

 

                “And this event that you did not expect and do not understand?”

 

                “Ships of the Foundation fleet are approaching the Sayshellian frontier. My computer has picked up this information from Sayshellian news broadcasts. At least five advanced ships are in the flotilla and these have enough power to overwhelm Sayshell.”

 

                Gendibal did not answer at once, for it would not do to show that he had not expected such a move--or that he didn’t understand it. So, after a moment, he said negligently, “Do you suppose that this has something to do with Trevize’s movement toward Gaia?”

 

                “It certainly came immediately afterward--and if B follows A, then there is at least a possibility that A caused B,” said Compor.

 

                “Well then, it seems we all converge upon Gaia--Trevize, and I, and the First Foundation. --Come, you acted well, Compor,” said Gendibal, “and here is what we will now do. First, you will show me how this computer works and, through that, how the ship may be handled. I am sure that will not take long.

 

                “After that, you will get into my ship, since by then I will have impressed on your mind how to handle it. You will have no trouble maneuvering it, although I must tell you (as you have no doubt guessed from its appearance) that you will find it primitive indeed. Once you are in control of the ship, you will keep it here and wait for me.”

 

                “How long, Speaker?”

 

                “Until I come for you. I do not expect to be gone long enough for you to be in danger of running out of supplies, but if I am unduly delayed, you may find your way to some inhabited planet of the Sayshell Union and wait there. Wherever you are, I will find you.”

 

                “As you say, Speaker.”

 

                “And do not be alarmed. I can handle this mysterious Gaia and, if need be, the five ships of the Foundation as well.”

 

  

 

 4.

 

  

 

 Littoral Thoobing had been the Foundation’s Ambassador to Sayshell for seven years. He rather liked the position.

 

                Tall and rather stout, he wore a thick brown mustache at a time when the predominant fashion, both in the Foundation and in Sayshell, was smooth-shaven. He had a strongly lined countenance, though he was only fifty-four--and was much given to a schooled indifference. His attitude toward his work was not easily seen.

 

                Still, he rather liked the position. It kept him away from the hurly-burly of polities on Terminus--something he appreciated-- and it gave him the chance to live the life of a Sayshellian sybarite and to support his wife and daughter in the style to which they had become addicted. He didn’t want his life disturbed.

 

                On the other hand, he rather disliked Liono Kodell, perhaps because Kodell also sported a mustache, though one which was smaller, shorter, and grayish-white. In the old days, they had been the only two people in prominent public life who had worn one and there had been rather a competition between them over the matter. Now (thought Thoobing) there was none; Kodell’s was contemptible.

 

                Kodell had been Director of Security when Thoobing was still on Terminus, dreaming of opposing Harla Branno in the race for Mayor, until he had been bought off with the ambassadorship. Branno had done it for her own sake, of course, but he had ended up owing her goodwill for that.

 

                But not to Kodell, somehow. Perhaps it was because of Kodell’s determined cheerfulness--the manner in which he was always such afriendly person--even after he had decided on just exactly the manner in which your throat was to be cut.

 

                Now he sat there in hyperspatial image, cheerful as ever, brimming over with bonhomie. His actual body was, of course, back on Terminus, which spared Thoobing the necessity of offering him any physical sign of hospitality.

 

                “Kodell,” he said. “I want those ships withdrawn.”

 

                Kodell smiled sunnily. “Why, so do I, but the old lady has made up her mind.”

 

                “You’ve been known to persuade her out of this or that.”

 

                “On occasion. Perhaps. When she wanted to be persuaded. This time she doesn’t want to be. --Thoobing, do your job. Keep Sayshell calm.”

 

                “I’m not thinking about Sayshell, Kodell. I’m thinking about the Foundation.”

 

                “So are we all.”

 

                “Kodell, don’t fence. I want you to listen to me.”

 

                “Gladly, but these are hectic times on Terminus and I will not listen to you forever.”

 

                “I will be as brief as I can be--when discussing the possibility of the Foundation’s destruction. If this hyperspatial line is not being tapped, I will speak openly.”

 

                “It is not being tapped.”

 

                “Then let me go on. I have received a message some days ago from one Golan Trevize. I recall a Trevize in my own political days, a Commissioner of Transportation.”

 

                “The young man’s uncle,” Kodell said.

 

                “Ah, then you know the Trevize who sent the message to me. According to the information I have since gathered, he was a Councilman who, after the recent successful resolution of a Seldon Crisis, was arrested and sent into exile.”

 

                “Exactly.”

 

                “I don’t believe it.”

 

                “What is it that you don’t believe?”

 

                “That he was sent into exile.”

 

                “Why not?”

 

                “When in history has any citizen of the Foundation been sent into exile?” demanded Thoobing. “He is arrested or not arrested. If he is arrested, he is tried or not tried. If he is tried, he is convicted or not convicted. If he is convicted, he is fined, demoted, disgraced, imprisoned, or executed. No one is sent into exile.”

 

                “There is always a first time.”

 

                “Nonsense. In an advanced naval vessel? What fool can fail to see that he is on a special mission for your old woman? Whom can she possibly expect to deceive?”

 

                “What would the mission be?”

 

                “Supposedly to find the planet Gaia.”

 

                Some of the cheerfulness left Kodell’s face. An unaccustomed hardness entered his eyes. He said, “I know that you feel no overwhelming impulse to believe my statements, Mr. Ambassador, but I make a special plea that you believe me in this one case. Neither the Mayor nor I had ever heard of Gaia at the time that Trevize was sent into exile. We have heard of Gaia, for the first time, just the other day. If you believe that, this conversation may continue.”

 

                “I will suspend my tendency toward skepticism long enough to accept that, Director, though it is difficult to do so.”

 

                “It is quite true, Mr. Ambassador, and if I have suddenly adopted a formal note to my statements it is because when this is done, you will find that you have questions to answer and that you will not find the occasion joyful. You speak as though Gaia is a world familiar to you. How is it that you know something we did not know? Is it not your duty to see to it that we know everything that you know about the political unit to which you are assigned?”

 

                Thoobing said softly, “Gaia is not part of the Sayshell Union. It, in fact, probably does not exist. Am I to transmit to Terminus all the fairy tales that the superstitious lower orders of Sayshell tell of Gaia? Some of them say that Gaia is located in hyperspace. According to others, it is a world that supernaturally protects Sayshell. According to still others, it sent forth the Mule to prey on the Galaxy. If you are planning to tell the Sayshellian government that Trevize has been sent out to find Gaia and that five advanced ships of the Foundation Navy have been sent out to back him in this search, they will never believe you. The people may believe fairy tales about Gaia, but the government does not--and they will not be convinced that the Foundation does. They will feel that you intend to force Sayshell into the Foundation Federation.”

 

                “And what if we do plan that?”

 

                “It would be fatal. Come, Kodell, in the five-century history of the Foundation, when have we fought a war of conquest? We have fought wars to prevent our own conquest--and failed once--but no war has ended with an extension of our territory. Accessions to the Federation have been through peaceful agreements. We have been joined by those who saw benefits in joining.”

 

                “Isn’t it possible that Sayshell may see benefits in joining?”

 

                “They will never do so while our ships remain on their borders. Withdraw them.”

 

                “It can’t be done.”

 

                “Kodell, Sayshell is a marvelous advertisement for the benevolence of the Foundation Federation. It is nearly enclosed by our territory, it is in an utterly vulnerable position, and yet until now it has been safe, has gone its own way, has even been able to maintain an anti-Foundation foreign policy freely. How better can we show the Galaxy that we force no one, that we come in friendship to all? --If we take over Sayshell, we take that which, in essence, we already have. After all, we dominate it economically--if quietly. But if we take it over by military force, we advertise to all the Galaxy that we have become expansionist.”

 

                “And if I tell you that we are really interested only in Gaia?”

 

                “Then I will believe it no more than the Sayshell Union will. This man, Trevize, sends me a message that he is on his way to Gaia and asks me to transmit it to Terminus. Against my better judgment, I do so because I must and, almost before the hyperspatial line is cool, the Foundation Navy is in motion. How will you get to Gaia, without penetrating Sayshellian space?”

 

                “Mydear Thoobing, surely you are not listening to yourself. Did you not tell me just a few minutes ago that Gaia, if it exists at all, is not part of the Sayshell Union? And I presume you know that hyperspace is free to all and is part of no world’s territory. How then can Sayshell complain if we move from Foundation territory (where our ships stand right now), through hyperspace, into Gaian territory, and never in the process occupy a single cubic centimeter of Sayshellian territory?”

 

                “Sayshell will not interpret events like that, Kodell. Gaia, if it exists at all, is totally enclosed by the Sayshell Union, even if it is not a political part of it, and there are precedents that make such enclaves virtual parts of the enclosing territory, as far as enemy warships are concerned.”

 

                “Ours are not enemy warships. We are at peace with Sayshell.”

 

                “I tell you that Sayshell may declare war. They won’t expect to win such a war through military superiority, but the fact is, war will set off a wave of anti-Foundation activity throughout the Galaxy. The new expansionist policies of the Foundation will encourage the growth of alliances against us. Some of the members of the Federation will begin to rethink their ties to us. We may well lose the war through internal disarray and we will then certainly reverse the process of growth that has served the Foundation so well for five hundred years.”

 

                “Come, come, Thoobing,” said Kodell indifferently, “You speak as though five hundred years is nothing, as though we are still the Foundation of Salvor Hardin’s time, fighting the pocket-kingdom of Anacreon. We are far stronger now than the Galactic Empire ever was at its very height. A squadron of our ships could defeat the entire Galactic Navy, occupy any Galactic sector, and never know it had been in a fight.”

 

                “We are not fighting the Galactic Empire. We fight planets and sectors of our own time.”

 

                “Who have not advanced as we have. We could gather in all the Galaxy now.”

 

                “According to the Seldon Plan, we can’t do that for another five hundred years.”

 

                “The Seldon Plan underestimates the speed of technological advance. We can do it now! --Understand me, I don’t say wewill do it now or evenshould do it now. I merely say wecan do it now.”

 

                “Kodell, you have lived all your life on Terminus. You don’t know the Galaxy. Our Navy and our technology can beat down the Armed Forces of other worlds, but we cannot yet govern an entire rebellions, hate-ridden Galaxy--and that is what it will be if we take it by force. Withdraw the ships!”

 

                “It can’t be done, Thoobing. Consider-- What if Gaia is not a myth?”

 

                Thoobing paused, scanning the other’s face as though anxious to read his mind. “A world in hyperspace not a myth?”

 

                “A world in hyperspace is superstition, but even superstitions may be built around kernels of truth. This man, Trevize, who was exiled, speaks of it as though it were a real world in real space. What if he is right?”

 

                “Nonsense. I don’t believe it.”

 

                “No? Believe it for just a moment. A real world that has lent Sayshell safety against the Mule and against the Foundation!”

 

                “But you refute yourself. How is Gaia keeping the Sayshellians safe from the Foundation? Are we not sending ships against it?”

 

                “Not against it, but against Gaia, which is so mysteriously unknown--which is so careful to avoid notice that while it is in real space it somehow convinces its neighbor worlds that it is in hyperspace--and which even manages to remain outside the computerized data of the best and most unabridged of Galactic maps.”

 

                “It must be a most unusual world, then, for it must be able to manipulate minds.”

 

                “And did you not say a moment ago that one Sayshellian tale is that Gaia sent forth the Mule to prey upon the Galaxy? And could not the Mule manipulate minds?”

 

                “And Gaia is a world of Mules, then?”

 

                “Are you sure it might not be?”

 

                “Why not a world of a reborn Second Foundation, in that case.”