Pelorat shook his head slowly. “But you’re not.”

 

            “Are you sure you believe that?”

 

            “Of course I do. You’re not a robot.”

 

            “How do you know?”

 

            “Bliss, I know. There’s nothing artificial about you. If I don’t know that, no one does.”

 

            “Isn’t it possible I may be so cleverly artificial that in every respect, from largest to smallest, I am indistinguishable from the natural. If I were, how could you tell the difference between me and a true human being?”

 

            Pelorat said, “I don’t think it’s possible for you to be so cleverly artificial.”

 

            “What if it were possible, despite what you think?”

 

            “I just don’t believe it.”

 

            “Then let’s just consider it is a hypothetical case. If I were an indistinguishable robot, how would you feel about it?”

 

            “Well, I-I-”

 

            “To be specific. How would you feel about making love to a robot?”

 

            Pelorat snapped the thumb and mid-finger of his right hand, suddenly. “You know, there are legends of women falling in love with artificial men, and vice-versa. I always thought there was an allegorical significance to that and never imagined the tales could represent literal truth.-Of course, Golan and I never even heard the word ‘robot’ till we landed on Sayshell, but, now that I think of it, those artificial men and women must have been robots. Apparently, such robots did exist in early historic times. That means the legends should be reconsidered-”

 

            He fell into silent thought, and, after Bliss had waited a moment, she suddenly clapped her hands sharply. Pelorat jumped.

 

            “Pel dear,” said Bliss. “You’re using your mythography to escape the question. The question is: How would you feel about making love to a robot?”

 

            He stared at her uneasily. “A truly undistinguishable one? One that you couldn’t tell from a human being?”

 

            “Yes.”

 

            “It seems to me, then, that a robot that can in no way be distinguished from a human being is a human being. If you were such a robot, you would be nothing but a human being to me.”

 

            “That’s what I wanted to hear you say, Pel.”

 

            Pelorat waited, then said, “Well, then, now that you’ve heard me say it, dear, aren’t you going to tell me that you are a natural human being and that I don’t have to wrestle with hypothetical situations?”

 

            “No. I will do no such thing. You’ve defined a natural human being as an object that has all the properties of a natural human being. If you are satisfied that I have all those properties, then that ends the discussion. We’ve got the operational definition and need no other. After all, how do I know that you’re not just a robot who happens to be indistinguishable from a human being?”

 

            “Because I tell you that I am not.”

 

            “Ah, but if you were a robot that was indistinguishable from a human being, you might be designed to tell me you were a natural human being, and you might even be programmed to believe it yourself. The operational definition is all we have, and all we can have.”

 

            She put her arms about Pelorat’s neck and kissed him. The kiss grew more passionate, and prolonged itself until Pelorat managed to say, in somewhat muffled fashion, “But we promised Trevize not to embarrass him by converting this ship into a honeymooners’ haven.”

 

            Bliss said coaxingly, “Let’s be carried away and not leave ourselves any time to think of promises.”

 

            Pelorat, troubled, said, “But I can’t do that, dear. I know it must irritate you, Bliss, but I am constantly thinking and I am constitutionally averse to letting myself be carried away by emotion. It’s a lifelong habit, and probably very annoying to others. I’ve never lived with a woman who didn’t seem to object to it sooner or later. My first wife-but I suppose it would be inappropriate to discuss that-”

 

            “Rather inappropriate, yes, but not fatally so. You’re not my first lover either.”

 

            “Oh!” said Pelorat, rather at a loss, and then, aware of Bliss’s small smile, he said, “I mean, of course not. I wouldn’t expect myself to have been-Anyway, my first wife didn’t like it.”

 

            “But I do. I find your endless plunging into thought attractive.”

 

            “I can’t believe that, but I do have another thought. Robot or human, that doesn’t matter. We agree on that. However, I am an Isolate and you know it. I am not part of Gaia, and when we are intimate, you’re sharing emotions outside Gaia even when you let me participate in Gaia for a short period, and it may not be the same intensity of emotion then that you would experience if it were Gaia loving Gaia.”

 

            Bliss said, “Loving you, Pel, has its own delight. I look no farther than that.”

 

            “But it’s not just a matter of you loving me. You aren’t merely you. What if Gaia considers it a perversion?”

 

            “If it did, I would know, for I am Gaia. And since I have delight in you, Gaia does. When we make love, all of Gaia shares the sensation to some degree or other. When I say I love you, that means Gaia loves you, although it is only the part that I am that is assigned the immediate role.-You seem confused.”

 

            “Being an Isolate, Bliss, I don’t quite grasp it.”

 

            “One can always form an analogy with the body of an Isolate. When you whistle a tune, your entire body, you as an organism, wishes to whistle the tune, but the immediate task of doing so is assigned to your lips, tongue, and lungs. Your right big toe does nothing.”

 

            “It might tap to the tune.”

 

            “But that is not necessary to the act of whistling. The tapping of the big toe is not the action itself but is a response to the action, and, to be sure, all parts of Gaia might well respond in some small way or other to my emotion, as I respond to theirs.”

 

            Pelorat said, “I suppose there’s no use feeling embarrassed about this.”

 

            “None at all.”

 

            “But it does give me a queer sense of responsibility. When I try to make you happy, I find that I must be trying to make every last organism on Gaia happy.”

 

            “Every last atom-but you do. You add to the sense of communal joy that I let you share briefly. I suppose your contribution is too small to be easily measurable, but it is there, and knowing it is there should increase your joy.”

 

            Pelorat said, “I wish I could be sure that Golan is sufficiently busy with his maneuvering through hyperspace to remain in the pilot-room for quite a while.”

 

            “You wish to honeymoon, do you?”

 

            “I do.”

 

            “Than get a sheet of paper, write ‘Honeymoon Haven’ on it, affix It to the outside of the door, and if he wants to enter, that’s his problem.”

 

            Pelorat did so, and it was during the pleasurable proceedings that followed that theFar Star made the Jump. Neither Pelorat nor Bliss detected the action, nor would they have, had they been paying attention.

 

  

 

 10.

 

  

 

            IT HAD BEEN ONLY a matter of a few months since Pelorat had met Trevize and had left Terminus for the first time. Until then, for the more than half century (Galactic Standard) of his life, he had been utterly planet-bound.

 

            In his own mind, he had in those months become an old space dog. He had seen three planets from space: Terminus itself, Sayshell, and Gaia. And on the viewscreen, he now saw a fourth, albeit through a computer-controlled telescopic device. The fourth was Comporellon.

 

            And again, for the fourth time, he was vaguely disappointed. Somehow, he continued to feel that looking down upon a habitable world from space meant seeing an outline of its continents against a surrounding sea; or, if it were a dry world, the outline of its lakes against a surrounding body of land.

 

            It was never so.

 

            If a world was habitable, it had an atmosphere as well as a hydrosphere. And if it had both air and water, it had clouds; and if it had clouds, it had an obscured view. Once again, then, Pelorat found himself looking down on white swirls with an occasional glimpse of pale blue or rusty brown.

 

            He wondered gloomily if anyone could identify a world if a view of it from, say, three hundred thousand kilometers, were cast upon a screen. How does one tell one cloud swirl from another?

 

            Bliss looked at Pelorat with some concern. “What is it, Pel? You seem to be unhappy.”

 

            “I find that all planets look alike from space.”

 

            Trevize said, “What of that, Janov? So does every shoreline on Terminus, when it is on the horizon, unless you know what you’re looking for, a particular mountain peak, or a particular offshore islet of characteristic shape.”

 

            “I dare say,” said Pelorat, with clear dissatisfaction, “but what do you look for in a mass of shifting clouds? And even if you try, before you can decide, you’re likely to be moving into the dark side.

 

            “Look a little more carefully, Janov. If you follow the shape of the clouds, you see that they tend to fall into a pattern that circles the planet and that moves about a center. That center is more or less at one of the poles.”

 

            “Which one?” asked Bliss with interest.

 

            “Since, relative to ourselves, the planet is rotating in clockwise fashion, we are looking down, by definition, upon the south pole. Since the center seems to be about fifteen degrees from the terminator-the planet’s line of shadow-and the planetary axis is tilted twenty-one degrees to the perpendicular of its plane of revolution, we’re either in mid-spring or mid-summer depending on whether the pole is moving away from the terminator or toward it. The computer can calculate its orbit and tell me in short order if I were to ask it. The capital is on the northern side of the equator so it is either in mid-fall or mid-winter.”

 

            Pelorat frowned. “You can tell all that?” He looked at the cloud layer as though he thought it would, or should, speak to him now, but, of course, it didn’t.

 

            “Not only that,” said Trevize, “but if you’ll look at the polar regions, you’ll see that there are no breaks in the cloud layer as there are away from the poles. Actually, there are breaks, but through the breaks you see ice, so it’s a matter of white on white.”

 

            “Ah,” said Pelorat. “I suppose you expect that at the poles.”

 

            “Of habitable planets, certainly. Lifeless planets might be airless or waterless, or might have certain stigmata showing that the clouds are not water a clouds, or that the ice is not water ice. This planet lacks those stigmata, so we know we are looking at water clouds and water ice.

 

            “The next thing we notice is the size of the area of unbroken white on the day side of the terminator, and to the experienced eye it is at once seen larger than average. Furthermore, you can detect a certain orange glint, a quite faint one, to the reflected light, and that means Comporellon’s sun if rather cooler than Terminus’s sun. Although Comporellon is closer to its sun than Terminus is to hers, it is not sufficiently closer to make up for its star’s lower temperature. Therefore, Comporellon is a cold world as habitable worlds go.”

 

            “You read it like a film, old chap,” said Pelorat admiringly.

 

            “Don’t be too impressed,” said Trevize, smiling affectionately. “The computer has given me the applicable statistics of the world, including its slightly low average temperature. It is easy to deduce something you already know. In fact, Comporellon is at the edge of an ice age and would be having one, if the configuration of its continents were more suitable to such a condition.”

 

            Bliss bit at her lower lip. “I don’t like a cold world.”

 

            “We’ve got warm clothing,” said Trevize.

 

            “That doesn’t matter. Human beings aren’t adapted to cold weather, really. We don’t have thick coats of hair or feathers, or a subcutaneous layer of blubber. For a world to have cold weather seems to indicate a certain indifference to the welfare of its own parts.”

 

            Trevize said, “Is Gaia a uniformly mild world?”

 

            “Most of it, yes. There are some cold areas for cold-adapted plants and animals, and some hot areas for heat-adapted plants and animals, but most parts are uniformly mild, never getting uncomfortably hot or uncomfortably cold, for those between, including human beings, of course.”

 

            “Human beings, of course. All parts of Gaia are alive and equal in that respect, but some, like human beings, are obviously more equal than other,”

 

            “Don’t be foolishly sarcastic,” said Bliss, with a trace of waspishness. “The level and intensity of consciousness and awareness are important. A human being is a more useful portion of Gaia than a rock of the same weight would be, and the properties and functions of Gaia as a whole are necessarily weighted in the direction of the human being, not as much so as on your Isolate worlds, however. What’s more, there are times when it is weighted in other directions, when that is needed for Gaia as a whole. It might even, at long intervals, be weighted in the direction of the rocky interior. That, too, demands attention or, in the lack of that attention all parts of Gaia might suffer. We wouldn’t want an unnecessary volcanic eruption, would we?”

 

            “No,” said Trevize. “Not an unnecessary one.”

 

            “You’re not impressed, are you?”

 

            “Look,” said Trevize. “We have worlds that are colder than average and worlds that are warmer; worlds that are tropical forests to a large extent, and worlds that are vast savannahs. No two worlds are alike, and every one of them is home to those who are used to it. I am used to the relative mildness of Terminus, we’ve tamed it to an almost Gaian moderation, actually, but I like to get away, at least temporarily, to something different. What we have, Bliss, that Gaia doesn’t have, is variation. If Gaia expands into Galaxia, will every world in the Galaxy be forced into mildness? The sameness would be unbearable.”

 

            Bliss said, “If that is so, and if variety seems desirable, variety will be maintained.”

 

            “As a gift from the central committee, so to speak?” said Trevize dryly. “And as little of it as they can bear to part with? I’d rather leave it to nature.”

 

            “But youhaven’t left it to nature. Every habitable world in the Galaxy has been modified. Every single one was found in a state of nature that was uncomfortable for humanity, and every single one was modified until it was as mild as could be managed. If this world here is cold, I am certain that is because its inhabitants couldn’t warm it any further without unacceptable expense. And even so, the portions they actually inhabit we can be sure are artificially warmed into mildness. So don’t be so loftily virtuous about leaving it to nature.”

 

            Trevize said, “You speak for Gaia, I suppose.”

 

            “I always speak for Gaia. Iam Gaia.”

 

            “Then if Gaia is so certain of its own superiority, why did you require my decision? Why have you not gone ahead without me?”

 

            Bliss paused, as though to collect her thoughts. She said, “Because it is not wise to trust one’s self overmuch. We naturally see our virtues with clearer eyes than we see our defects. We are anxious to do what is right; not necessarily whatseems right to us, but what is right, objectively, if such a thing as objective right exists. You seem to be the nearest approach to objective right that we can find, so we are guided by you.”

 

            “So objectively right,” said Trevize sadly, “that I don’t even understand my own decision and I seek its justification.”

 

            “You’ll find it,” said Bliss.

 

            “I hope so,” said Trevize.

 

            “Actually, old chap,” said Pelorat, “it seems to me that this recent exchange was won rather handily by Bliss. Why don’t you recognize the fact that her arguments justify your decision that Gaia is the wave of the future for humanity?”

 

            “Because,” said Trevize harshly, “I did not know those arguments at the time I made my decision. I knew none of these details about Gaia. Something else influenced me, at least unconsciously, something that doesn’t depend upon Gaian detail, but must be more fundamental. It is that which I most find out.”

 

            Pelorat held up a placating hand. “Don’t be angry, Golan.”

 

            “I’m not angry. I’m just under rather unbearable tension. I don’t want to be the focus of the Galaxy.”

 

            Bliss said, “I don’t blame you for that, Trevize, and I’m truly sorry that your own makeup has somehow forced you into the post.-When will we be landing on Comporellon?”

 

            “In three days,” said Trevize, “and only after we stop at one of the entry stations in orbit about it.”

 

            Pelorat said, “There shouldn’t be any problem with that, should there?”

 

            Trevize shrugged. “It depends on the number of ships approaching the world, the number of entry stations that exist, and, most of all, on the particular rules for permitting and refusing admittance. Such rules change from time to time.”

 

            Pelorat said indignantly, “What do you meanrefusing admittance? can they refuse admittance to citizens of the Foundation? Isn’t Comporellan part of the Foundation dominion?”

 

            “Well, yes-and no. There’s a delicate matter of legalism about the point and I’m not sure how Comporellon interprets it. I suppose there’s a chance we’ll be refused admission, but I don’t think it’s a large chance.”

 

            “And if we are refused, what do we do?”

 

            “I’m not sure,” said Trevize. “Let’s wait and see what happens before we wear ourselves out making contingency plans.”

 

  

 

 11.

 

  

 

            THEY WERE close enough to Comporellon now for it to appear as a substantial globe without telescopic enlargement. When such enlargement was added, however, the entry stations themselves could be seen. They were farther out than most of the orbiting structures about the planet and they were well lit.

 

            Approaching as theFar Star was from the direction of the planet’s southern pole, half its globe was sunlit constantly. The entry stations on its night side were naturally more clearly seen as sparks of light. They were evenly spaced in an arc about the planet. Six of them were visible (plus six on the day side undoubtedly) and all were circling the planet at even and identical speeds.

 

            Pelorat, a little awed at the sight, said, “There are other lights closer to the planet. What are they?”

 

            Trevize said, “I don’t know the planet in detail so I can’t tell you. Some might be orbiting factories or laboratories or observatories, or even populated townships. Some planets prefer to keep all orbiting objects outwardly dark, except for the entry stations. Terminus does, for instance. Comporellon conducts itself on a more liberal principle, obviously.”

 

            “Which entry station do we go to, Golan?”

 

            “It depends on them. I’ve sent in my request to land on Comporellon and we’ll eventually get our directions as to which entry station to go to, and when. Much depends on how many incoming ships are trying to make entry at present. If there are a dozen ships lined up at each station, we will have no choice but to be patient.”

 

            Bliss said, “I’ve only been at hyperspatial distances from Gaia twice before, and those were both when I was at or near Sayshell. I’ve never been at anything likethis distance.”

 

            Trevize looked at her sharply. “Does it matter? You’re still Gaia, aren’t you?”

 

            For a moment, Bliss looked irritated, but then dissolved into what was almost an embarrassed titter. “I must admit you’ve caught me this time, Trevize. There is a double meaning in the word ‘Gaia.’ It can be used to refer to the physical planet as a solid globular object in space. It can also be used to refer to the living object that includes that globe. Properly speaking, we should use two different words for these two different concepts, but Gaians always know from the context what is being referred to. I admit that an Isolate might be puzzled at times.”

 

            “Well, then,” said Trevize, “admitting that you are many thousands of parsecs from Gaia as globe, are you still part of Gaia as organism?”

 

            “Referring to the organism, I am still Gaia.”

 

            “No attenuation?”

 

            “Not in essence. I’m sure I’ve already told you there is some added complexity in remaining Gaia across hyperspace, but I remain Gaia.”

 

            Trevize said, “Does it occur to you that Gaia may be viewed as a Galactic kraken-the tentacled monster of the legends-with its tentacles reaching everywhere. You have but to put a few Gaians on each of the populated worlds and you will virtually have Galaxia right there. In fact, you have probably done exactly that. Where are your Gaians located? I presume that one or more are on Terminus and one or more are on Trantor. How much farther does this go?”

 

            Bliss looked distinctly uncomfortable. “I have said I won’t lie to you, Trevize, but that doesn’t mean I feel compelled to give you the whole truth. There are some things you have no need to know, and the position and identity of individual bits of Gaia are among them.”

 

            “Do I need to know the reason for the existence of those tentacles, Bliss, even if I don’t know where they are?”

 

            “It is the opinion of Gaia that you do not.”

 

            “I presume, though, that I may guess. You believe you serve as the guardians of the Galaxy.”

 

            “We are anxious to have a stable and secure Galaxy; a peaceful and prosperous one. The Seldon Plan, as originally worked out by Hari Seldon at least, is designed to develop a Second Galactic Empire, one that is more stable and more workable than the First was. The Plan, which has been continually modified and improved by the Second Foundation, has appeared to be working well so far.”

 

            “But Gaia doesn’t want a Second Galactic Empire in the classic sense, does it? You want Galaxia-a living Galaxy.”

 

            “Since you permit it, we hope, in time, to have Galaxia. If you had not permitted it, we would have striven for Seldon’s Second Empire and made it as secure as we could.”

 

            “But what is wrong with-”

 

            His ear caught the soft, burring signal. Trevize said, “The computer is signaling me. I suppose it is receiving directions concerning the entry station. I’ll be back.”

 

            He stepped into the pilot-room and placed his hands on those marked out on the desk top and found that there were directions for the specific entry station he was to approach-its coordinates with reference to the line from Comporellon’s center to its north pole the prescribed route of approach.

 

            Trevize signaled his acceptance, and then sat back for a moment.

 

            The Seldon Plan! He had not thought of it for quite a time. The First Galactic Empire had crumbled and for five hundred years the Foundation had grown, first in competition with that Empire, and then upon its ruins-all in accordance with the Plan.

 

            There had been the interruption of the Mule, which, for a time, had threatened to shiver the Plan into fragments, but the Foundation had pulled through-probably with the help of the ever-hidden Second Foundation-possibly with the help of the even better-hidden Gaia.

 

            Now the Plan was threatened by something more serious than the Mule had ever been. It was to be diverted from a renewal of Empire to something utterly different from anything in history-Galaxia.And he himself had agreed to that.

 

      But why? Was there a flaw in the Plan? A basic flaw?

 

            For one flashing moment, it seemed to Trevize that this flaw did indeed exist and that he knew what it was, that he had known what it was when he made his decision-but the knowledge . . . if that were what it was . . . vanished as fast as it came, and it left him with nothing.

 

            Perhaps it was all only an illusion; both when he had made his decision, and now. After all, he knew nothing about the Plan beyond the basic assumptions that validated psychohistory. Apart from that, he knew no detail, and certainly not a single scrap of its mathematics.

 

            He closed his eyes and thought-

 

            There was nothing.

 

            Might it be the added power he received from the computer? He placed his hands on the desk top and felt the warmth of the computer’s hands embracing them. He closed his eyes and once more he thought-

 

            There was still nothing.

 

  

 

 12.

 

  

 

            THE COMPORELLIAN who boarded the ship wore a holographic identity card. It displayed his chubby, lightly bearded face with remarkable fidelity, and underneath it was his name, A. Kendray.

 

            He was rather short, and his body was as softly rounded as his face was. He had a fresh and easygoing look and manner, and he stared about the ship with clear amazement.

 

            He said, “How did you get down this fast? We weren’t expecting you for two hours.”

 

            “It’s a new-model ship,” said Trevize, with noncommittal politeness.

 

            Kendray was not quite the young innocent he looked, however. He stepped into the pilot-room and said at once, “Gravitic?”

 

            Trevize saw no point in denying anything that was apparently that obvious. He said tonelessly, “Yes.”

 

            “Very interesting. You hear of them, but you never see them somehow. Motors in the hull?”

 

            “That’s so.”

 

            Kendray looked at the computer. “Computer circuits, likewise?”

 

            “That’s so. Anyway, I’m told so. I’ve never looked.”

 

            “Oh well. What I need is the ship’s documentation; engine number, place of manufacture, identification code, the whole patty-cake. It’s all in the computer, I’m sure, and it can probably turn out the formal card I need in half a second.”

 

            It took very little more than that. Kendray looked about again. “You three all the people on board?”

 

            Trevize said, “That’s right.”

 

            “Any live animals? Plants? State of health?”

 

            “No. No. And good,” said Trevize crisply.

 

            “Um!” said Kendray, making notes. “Could you put your hand in here? Just routine.-Right hand, please.”

 

            Trevize looked at the device without favor. It was being used more and more commonly, and was growing quickly more elaborate. You could almost tell the backwardness of a world at a glance by the backwardness of its microdetector. There were now few worlds, however backward, that didn’t have one at all. The start had come with the final breakup of the Empire, as each fragment of the whole grew increasingly anxious to protect itself from the diseases and alien microorganisms of all the others.

 

            “What is that?” asked Bliss, in a low and interested voice, craning her head to see it first on one side, then the other.

 

            Pelorat said, “A microdetector, I believe they call it.”

 

            Trevize added, “It’s nothing mysterious. It’s a device that automatically checks a portion of your body, inside and out, for any microorganism capable of transmitting disease.”

 

            “This will classify the microorganisms, too,” said Kendray, with rather more than a hint of pride. “It’s been worked out right here on Comporellon.-And if you don’t mind, I still want your right hand.”

 

            Trevize inserted his right hand, and watched as a series of small red markings danced along a set of horizontal lines. Kendray touched a contact and a facsimile in color appeared at once. “If you’ll sign that, sir,” he said.

 

            Trevize did so. “How badly off am I?” he asked. “I’m not in any great danger, am I?”

 

            Kendray said, “I’m not a physician, so I can’t say in detail, but it shows none of the marks that would require you to be turned away or to be put in quarantine. That’s all I’m interested in.”

 

            “What a lucky break for me,” said Trevize dryly, shaking his hand to rid himself of the slight tingle he felt.

 

            “You, sir,” said Kendray.

 

            Pelorat inserted his hand with a certain hesitancy, then signed the facsimile.

 

            “And you, ma’am?”

 

            A few moments later, Kendray was staring at the result, saying, “I never saw anything like this before.” He looked up at Bliss with an expression of awe. “You’re negative. Altogether.”‘

 

            Bliss smiled engagingly. “How nice.”

 

            “Yes, ma’am. I envy you.” He looked back at the first facsimile, and said, “Your identification, Mr. Trevize.”

 

            Trevize presented it. Kendray, glancing at it, again looked up in surprise. “Councilman of the Terminus Legislature?”

 

            “That’s right.”

 

            “High official of the Foundation?”

 

            Trevize said coolly, “Exactly right. So let’s get through with this quickly, shall we?”

 

            “You’re captain of the ship?”

 

            “Yes, I am.”

 

            “Purpose of visit?”

 

            “Foundation security, and that’s all the answer I’m going to give you. Do you understand that?”

 

            “Yes, sir. How long do you intend to stay?”

 

            “I don’t know. Perhaps a week.”

 

            “Very well, sir. And this other gentleman?”

 

            “He is Dr. Janov Pelorat,” said Trevize. “You have his signature there and I vouch for him. He is a scholar of Terminus and he is my assistant in this business of my visit.”

 

            “I understand, sir, but I must see his identification. Rules are rules, I’m afraid. I hopeyou understand, sir.”

 

            Pelorat presented his papers.

 

            Kendray nodded. “And you, miss?”

 

            Trevize said quietly, “No need to bother the lady. I vouch for her, too.”

 

            “Yes, sir. But I need the identification.”

 

            Bliss said, “I’m afraid I don’t have any papers, sir.”

 

            Kendray frowned. “I beg your pardon.”

 

            Trevize said, “The young lady didn’t bring any with her. An oversight. It’s perfectly all right. I’ll take full responsibility.”

 

            Kendray said, “I wish I could let you do that, but I’m not allowed. The responsibility is mine. Under the circumstances, it’s not terribly important. There should be no difficulty getting duplicates. The young woman, I presume, is from Terminus.”

 

            “No, she’s not.”

 

            “From somewhere in Foundation territory, then?”

 

            “As a matter of fact, she isn’t.”

 

            Kendray looked at Bliss keenly, then at Trevize. “That’s a complication, Councilman. It may take additional time to obtain a duplicate from some non-Foundation world. Since you’re not a Foundation citizen, Miss Bliss, I must have the name of your world of birth and of the world of which you’re a citizen. You will then have to wait for duplicate papers to arrive.”

 

            Trevize said, “See here, Mr. Kendray. I see no reason why there need be any delay whatever. I am a high official of the Foundation government and I am here on a mission of great importance. I must not be delayed by a matter of trivial paperwork.”

 

            “The choice isn’t mine, Councilman. If it were up to me, I’d let you down to Comporellon right now, but I have a thick book of rules that guides my every action. I’ve got to go by the book or I get it thrown at me.-Of course, I presume there must be some Comporellian government figure who’s waiting for you. If you’ll tell me who it is, I will contact him, and if he orders me to let you through, then that’s it.”

 

            Trevize hesitated a moment. “That would not be politic, Mr. Kendray. May I speak with your immediate superior?”

 

            “You certainly may, but you can’t just see him off-hand-”

 

            “I’m sure he will come at once when he understands he’s speaking to a Foundation official-”

 

            “Actually,” said Kendray, “just between us, that would make matters worse. We’re not part of the Foundation metropolitan territory, you know. We come under the heading of an Associated Power, and we take it seriously. The people are anxious not to appear to be Foundation puppets-I’m using the popular expression only, you understand-and they bend backward to demonstrate independence. My superior would expect to get extra points if heresists doing a special favor for a Foundation official.”

 

            Trevize’s expression darkened. “And you, too?”

 

            Kendray shook his head. “I’m below politics, sir. No one gives me extra points for anything. I’m just lucky if they pay my salary. And though I don’t get extra points, Ican get demerits, and quite easily, too. I wish that were not so.”

 

            “Considering my position, you know, I can take care of you.”

 

            “No, sir. I’m sorry if that sounds impertinent, but I don’t think you can.-And, sir, it’s embarrassing to say this, but please don’t offer me anything valuable. They make examples of officials who accept such things and they’re pretty good at digging them out, these days.”

 

            “I wasn’t thinking of bribing you. I’m only thinking of what the Mayor of Terminus can do to you if you interfere with my mission.”

 

            “Councilman, I’ll be perfectly safe as long as I can hide behind the rulebook. If the members of the Comporellian Presidium get some sort of Foundation discipline, that is their concern, and not mine.-But if it will help, sir, I can let you and Dr. Pelorat through on your ship. If you’ll leave Miss Bliss behind at the entry station, we’ll hold her for a time and send her down to the surface as soon as her duplicate papers come through. If her papers should not be obtainable, for any reason, we will send her back to her world on commercial transportation. I’m afraid, though, that someone will have to pay her fare, in that ease.”

 

            Trevize caught Pelorat’s expression at that, and said, “Mr. Kendray, may I speak to you privately in the pilot-room?”

 

            “Very well, but I can’t remain on board very much longer, or I’ll be questioned.”

 

            “This won’t take long,” said Trevize.

 

            In the pilot-room, Trevize made a show of closing the door tightly, then said, in a low voice, “I’ve been many places, Mr. Kendray, but I’ve never been anyplace where there has been such harsh emphasis on the minutiae of the rules of immigration, particularly for Foundation people and Foundationofficials “

 

            “But the young woman is not from the Foundation.”

 

            “Even so.”

 

            Kendray said, “These things go in rhythms. We’ve had some scandals and, right now, things are tough. If you’ll come back next year, you might not have any trouble at all, but right now, I can do nothing.”

 

            “Try, Mr. Kendray,” said Trevize, his voice growing mellow. “I’m going to throw myself on your mercy and appeal to you, man to man. Pelorat and I have been on this mission for quite a while. He and I. Just he and I. We’re good friends, but there’s something lonely about it, if you get me. Some time ago, Pelorat found this little lady. I don’t have to tell you what happened, but we decided to bring her along. It keeps us healthy to make use of her now and then.

 

            “Now the thing is Pelorat’s got a relationship back on Terminus. I’m clear, you understand, but Pelorat is an older man and he’s got to the age when they get a little-desperate. They need their youth back, or something. He can’t give her up. At the same time, if she’s even mentioned, officially, there’s going to be misery galore on Terminus for old Pelorat when he gets back.

 

            “There’s no harm being done, you understand. Miss Bliss, as she calls herself-a good name considering her profession-is not exactly a bright kid; that’s not what we want her for. Do you have to mention her at all? Can’t you just list me and Pelorat on the ship? Only we were originally listed when we left Terminus. There need be no official notice of the woman. After all, she’s absolutely free of disease. You noted that yourself.”

 

            Kendray made a face. “I don’t really want to inconvenience you. I understand the situation and, believe me, I sympathize. Listen, if you think holding down a shift on this station for months at a time is any fun, think again. And it isn’t co-educational, either; not on Comporellon.” He shook his head. “And I have a wife, too, so I understand.-But, look, even if I let you through, as soon as they find out that the-uh-lady is without papers, she’s in prison, you and Mr. Pelorat are in the kind of trouble that will get back to Terminus. And I myself will surely be out of a job.”

 

            “Mr. Kendray,” said Trevize, “trust me in this. Once I’m on Comporellon, I’ll be safe. I can talk about my mission to some of the right people and, when that’s done, there’ll be no further trouble. I’ll take full responsibility for what has happened here, if it ever comes up-which I doubt. What’s more, I will recommend your promotion, and you will get it, because I’ll see to it that Terminus leans all over anyone who hesitates.-And we can give Pelorat a break.”

 

            Kendray hesitated, then said, “All right. I’ll let you through-but take a word of warning. I start from this minute figuring out a way to save my butt if the matter comes up. I don’t intend to do one thing to save yours. What’s more I know how these things work on Comporellon and you don’t, and Comporellon isn’t an easy world for people who step out of line.”

 

            “Thank you, Mr. Kendray,” said Trevize. “There’ll be no trouble. I assure you of that.”

 

  

 

 4. On Comporellon

 

  

 

 13.

 

  

 

            THEY WERE through. The entry station had shrunk to a rapidly dimming star behind them, and in a couple of hours they would be crossing the cloud layer.

 

            A gravitic ship did not have to brake its path by a long route of slow spiral contraction, but neither could it swoop downward too rapidly. Freedom from gravity did not mean freedom from air resistance. The ship could descend in a straight line, but it was still a matter for caution; it could not be too fast.

 

            “Where are we going to go?” asked Pelorat, looking confused. “I can’t tell one place in the clouds from another, old fellow.”

 

            “No more can I,” said Trevize, “but we have an official holographic map of Comporellon, which gives the shape of the land masses and an exaggerated relief for both land heights and ocean depths-and political subdivisions, too. The map is in the computer and that will do the work. It will match the planetary land-sea design to the map, thus orienting the ship properly, and it will then take us to the capital by a cycloidic pathway.”

 

            Pelorat said, “If we go to the capital, we plunge immediately into the political vortex. If the world is anti-Foundation, as the fellow at the entry station implied, we’ll be asking for trouble.”

 

            “On the other hand, it’s bound to be the intellectual center of the planet, and if we want information, that’s where we’ll find it, if anywhere. As for being anti-Foundation, I doubt that they will be able to display that too openly. The Mayor may have no great liking for me, but neither can she afford to have a Councilman mistreated. She would not care to allow the precedent to be established.”

 

            Bliss had emerged from the toilet, her hands still damp from scrubbing. She adjusted her underclothes with no sign of concern and said, “By the way, I trust the excreta is thoroughly recycled.”

 

            “No choice,” said Trevize. “How long do you suppose our water supply would last without recycling of excreta? On what do you think those choicely flavored yeast cakes that we eat to lend spice to our frozen staples grow?-I hope that doesn’t spoil your appetite, my efficient Bliss.”

 

            “Why should it? Where do you suppose food and water come from on Gaia, or on this planet, or on Terminus?”

 

            “On Gaia,” said Trevize, “the excreta is, of course, as alive as you are.”

 

            “Not alive. Conscious. There is a difference. The level of consciousness is, naturally, very low.”

 

            Trevize sniffed in a disparaging way, but didn’t try to answer. He said, “I’m going into the pilot-room to keep the computer company. Not that it needs me.”

 

            Pelorat said, “May we come in and help you keep it company? I can’t quite get used to the fact that it can get us down all by itself; that it can sense other ships, or storms, or-whatever?”

 

            Trevize smiled broadly. “Get used to it, please. The ship is far safer under the computer’s control than it ever would be under mine.-But certainly, come on. It will do you good to watch what happens.”

 

            They were over the sunlit side of the planet now for, as Trevize explained, the map in the computer could be more easily matched to reality in the sunlight than in the dark.

 

            “That’s obvious,” said Pelorat.

 

            “Not at all obvious. The computer will judge just as rapidly by the infrared light which the surface radiates even in the dark. However, the longer waves of infrared don’t allow the computer quite the resolution that visible light would. That is, the computer doesn’t see quite as finely and sharply by infrared, and where necessity doesn’t drive, I like to make things as easy as possible for the computer.”

 

            “What if the capital is on the dark side?”

 

            “The chance is fifty-fifty,” said Trevize, “but if it is, once the map is matched by daylight, we can skim down to the capital quite unerringly even if it is in the dark. And long before we come anywhere near the capital, we’ll be intersecting microwave beams and will be receiving messages directing us to the most convenient spaceport.-There’s nothing to worry about.”

 

            “Are you sure?” said Bliss. “You’re bringing me down without papers and without any native world that these people here will recognize and I’m bound and determined not to mention Gaia to them in any case. So what do we do, if I’m asked for my papers once we’re on the surface?”

 

            Trevize said, “That’s not likely to happen. Everyone will assume that was taken care of at the entry station.”

 

            “But if they ask?”

 

            “Then, when that time comes, we’ll face the problem. Meanwhile, let’s not manufacture problems out of air.”

 

            “By the time we face the problems that may arise, it might well be too late to solve them.”

 

            “I’ll rely on my ingenuity to keep it from being too late.”

 

            “Talking about ingenuity, how did you get us through the entry station?”

 

            Trevize looked at Bliss, and let his lips slowly expand into a smile that made him seem like an impish teenager. “Just brains.”

 

            Pelorat said, “What did you do, old man?”

 

            Trevize said, “It was a matter of appealing to him in the correct manner. I’d tried threats and subtle bribes. I had appealed to his logic and his loyalty to the Foundation. Nothing worked, so I fell back on the last resort. I said that you were cheating on your wife, Pelorat.”

 

            “Mywife ? Hut, my dear fellow, I don’t have a wife at the moment.”

 

            “I know that, buthe didn’t.”

 

            Bliss said, “By ‘wife,’ I presume you mean a woman who is a particular man’s regular companion.”

 

            Trevize said, “A little more than that, Bliss. Alegal companion, one with enforceable rights in consequence of that companionship.”

 

            Pelorat said nervously, “Bliss, I donot have a wife. I have had one now and then in the past, but I haven’t had one for quite a while. If you would care to undergo the legal ritual-”

 

            “Oh, Pel,” said Bliss, making a sweeping-away movement with her right hand, “what would I care about that? I have innumerable companions that are as close to me as your arm is close companion to your other arm. It is only Isolates who feel so alienated that they have to use artificial conventions to enforce a feeble substitute for true companionship.”

 

            “But Iam an Isolate, Bliss dear.”

 

            “You will be less Isolate in time, Pel. Never truly Gaia, perhaps, but less Isolate, and you will have a flood of companions.”

 

            “I only want you, Bliss,” said Pel.

 

            “That’s because you know nothing about it. You’ll learn.”

 

            Trevize was concentrating on the viewscreen during that exchange with a look of strained tolerance on his face. The cloud cover had come up close and, for a moment, all was gray fog.

 

            Microwave vision, he thought, and the computer switched at once to the detection of radar echoes. The clouds disappeared and the surface of Comporellon appeared in false color, the boundaries between sectors of different constitution a little fuzzy and wavering.

 

            “Is that the way it’s going to look from now on?” asked Bliss, with some astonishment.

 

            “Only till we drift below the clouds. Then it’s back to sunlight.” Even as he spoke, the sunshine and normal visibility returned.

 

            “I see,” said Bliss. Then, turning toward him, “But what I don’t see is why it should matter to that official at the entry station whether Pel was deceiving his wife or not?”

 

            “If that fellow, Kendray, had held you back, the news, I said, might reach Terminus and, therefore, Pelorat’s wife. Pelorat would then be in trouble. I didn’t specify the sort of trouble he would be in, but I tried to sound a I though it would be bad.-There is a kind of free-masonry among males,” Trevize was grinning, now, “and one male doesn’t betray another fellow male. He would even help, if requested. The reasoning, I suppose, is that it might be the helper’s turn next to be helped. I presume,” he added, turning a bit graver, “that there is a similar free-masonry among women, but, not being a woman, I have never had an opportunity to observe it closely.”

 

            Bliss’s face resembled a pretty thundercloud. “Is this a joke?” she demanded.

 

            “No, I’m serious,” said Trevize. “I don’t say that that Kendray fellow let us through only to help Janov avoid angering his wife. The masculine free-masonry may simply have added the last push to my other arguments.”

 

            “But that is horrible. It is its rules that hold society together and bind it into a whole. Is it such a light thing to disregard the rules for trivial reasons?”

 

            “Well,” said Trevize, in instant defensiveness, “some of the rules are themselves trivial. Few worlds are very particular about passage in and out of their space in times of peace and commercial prosperity, such as we have now, thanks to the Foundation. Comporellon, for some reason, is out of step probably because of an obscure matter of internal politics. Why should we suffer over that?”

 

            “That is beside the point. If we only obey those rules that we think are just and reasonable, then no rule will stand, for there is no rule thatsome will not think is unjust and unreasonable. And if we wish to push our own individual advantage, as we see it, then we will always find reason to believe that some hampering rule is unjust and unreasonable. What starts, then, as a shrewd trick ends in anarchy and disaster, even for the shrewd trickster, since he, too, will not survive the collapse of society.”

 

            Trevize said, “Society will not collapse that easily. You speak as Gaia, and Gaia cannot possibly understand the association of free individuals. Rules, established with reason and justice, can easily outlive their usefulness as circumstances change, yet can remain in force through inertia. It is then not only right, but useful, to break those rules as a way of advertising the fact that they have become useless-or even actually harmful.”

 

            “Then every thief and murderer can argue he is serving humanity.”

 

            “You go to extremes. In the superorganism of Gaia, there is automatic consensus on the rules of society and it occurs to no one to break them. One might as well say that Gaia vegetates and fossilizes. There is admittedly an element of disorder in free association, but that is the price one must pay for the ability to induce novelty and change.-On the whole, it’s a reasonable price.”

 

            Bliss’s voice rose a notch. “You are quite wrong if you think Gaia vegetates and fossilizes. Our deeds, our ways, our views are under constant self-examination. They do not persist out of inertia, beyond reason. Gaia learns by experience and thought; and therefore changes when that is necessary.”

 

            “Even if what you say is so, the self-examination and learning must be slow, because nothing but Gaia exists on Gaia. Here, in freedom, even when almost everyone agrees, there are bound to be a few who disagree and, in some cases, those few may be right, and if they are clever enough, enthusiastic enough,right enough, they will win out in the end and be heroes in future ages-like Hari Seldon, who perfected psychohistory, pitted his own thoughts against the entire Galactic Empire, and won.”

 

            “He has won only so far, Trevize. The Second Empire he planned for will not come to pass. There will be Galaxia instead.”

 

            “Will there?” said Trevize grimly.

 

            “It wasyour decision, and, however much you argue with me in favor of Isolates and of their freedom to be foolish and criminal, there is something in the hidden recesses of your mind that forced you to agree with me/us/Gaia when you made your choice.”

 

            “What is present in the hidden recesses of my mind,” said Trevize, more grimly still, “is what I seek.-There, to begin with,” he added, pointing to the viewscreen where a great city spread out to the horizon, a cluster of low structures climbing to occasional heights, surrounded by fields that were brown under a light frost.

 

            Pelorat shook his head. “Too bad. I meant to watch the approach, but I got caught up in listening to the argument.”

 

            Trevize said, “Never mind, Janov. You can watch when we leave. I’ll promise to keep my mouth shut then, if you can persuade Bliss to control her own.”

 

            And theFar Star descended a microwave beam to a landing at the spaceport.

 

  

 

 14.

 

  

 

            KENDRAY looked grave when he returned to the entry station and watched theFar Star pass through. He was still clearly depressed at the close of his shift.

 

            He was sitting down to his closing meal of the day when one of his mates, a gangling fellow with wide-set eyes, thin light hair, and eyebrows so blond they seemed absent, sat down next to him.

 

            “What’s wrong, Ken?” said the other.

 

            Kendray’s lips twisted. He said, “That was a gravitic ship that just passed through, Gatis.”

 

            “The odd-looking one with zero radioactivity?”

 

            “That’s why it wasn’t radioactive. No fuel. Gravitic.”

 

            Gatis nodded his head. “What we were told to watch for, right?”

 

            “Right.”

 

            “And you got it. Leave it to you to be the lucky one.”

 

            “Not so lucky. A woman without identification was on it and I didn’t report her.”

 

            “What? Look, don’t tellme . I don’t want to know about it. Not another word. You may be a pal, but I’m not going to make myself an accomplice after the fact.”

 

            “I’m not worried about that. Not very much. Ihad to send the ship down. They want that gravitic or any gravitic. You know that.”

 

            “Sure, but you could at least have reported the woman.”

 

            “Didn’t like to. She’s not married. She was just picked up for-for use.”

 

            “How many men on board?”

 

            “Two.”

 

            “And they just picked her up for-for that. They must be from Terminus.” “That’s right.”

 

            “They don’t care what they do on Terminus.”

 

            “That’s right.”

 

            “Disgusting. And they get away with it.”

 

            “One of them was married, and he didn’t want his wife to know. If I reported her, his wife would find out.”

 

            “Wouldn’t she be back on Terminus?”

 

            “Of course, but she’d find out anyway.”

 

            “Serve the fellow right if his wife did find out.”

 

            “I agree but I can’t be the one to be responsible for it.”

 

            “They’ll hammer you for not reporting it. Not wanting to make trouble for a guy is no excuse.”

 

            “Wouldyou have reported him?”

 

            “I’d have had to, I suppose.”

 

            “No, you wouldn’t. The government wants that ship. If I had insisted on putting the woman on report, the men on the ship would have changed their minds about landing and would have pulled away to some other planet. The government wouldn’t have wanted that.”

 

            “But will they believe you?”

 

            “I think so.-A very cute-looking woman, too. Imagine a woman like that being willing to come along with two men, and married men with the nerve to take advantage.-You know, it’s tempting.”

 

            “I don’t think you’d want the missus to know you said that-or even thought that.”

 

            Kendray said defiantly, “Who’s going to tell her? You?”

 

            “Come on. You know better than that.” Gatis’s look of indignation faded quickly, and he said, “It’s not going to do those guys any good, you know, you letting them through.”

 

            “I know.”

 

            “The people down surface-way will find out soon enough, and even ifyou get away with it,they won’t.”

 

            “I know,” said Kendray, “but I’m sorry for them. Whatever trouble the woman will make for them will be as nothing to what the ship will make for them. The captain made a few remarks”

 

            Kendray paused, and Gatis said eagerly, “Like what?”

 

            “Never mind,” said Kendray. “If it comes out, it’s my butt.”

 

            “I’m not going to repeat it.”

 

            “Neither am I. But I’m sorry for those two men from Terminus.”

 

  

 

 15.

 

  

 

            To ANYONE who has been in space and experienced its changelessness, the real excitement of space flight comes when it is time to land on a new planet. The ground speeds backward under you as you catch glimpses of land and water, of geometrical areas and lines that might represent fields and roads. You become aware of the green of growing things, the gray of concrete, the brown of bare ground, the white of snow. Most of all, there is the excitement of populated conglomerates; cities which, on each world, have their own characteristic geometry and architectural variants.

 

            In an ordinary ship, there would have been the excitement of touching down and skimming across a runway. For theFar Star , it was different. It floated through the air, was slowed by skillfully balancing air resistance and gravity, and finally made to come to rest above the spaceport. The wind was gusty and that introduced an added complication. TheFar Star , when adjusted to low response to gravitational pull, was not only abnormally low in weight, but in mass as well. If its mass were too close to zero, the wind would blow it away rapidly. Hence, gravitational response had to be raised and jet-thrusts had to be delicately used not only against the planet’s pull but against the wind’s push, and in a manner that matched the shift in wind intensity closely. Without an adequate computer, it could not possibly have been done properly.

 

            Downward and downward, with small unavoidable shifts in this direction and that, drifted the ship until it finally sank into the outlined area that marked its assigned position in the port.

 

            The sky was a pale blue, intermingled with flat white, when theFar Star landed. The wind remained gusty even at ground level and though it was now no longer a navigational peril, it produced a chill that Trevize winced at. He realized at once that their clothing supply was totally unsuited to Comporellian weather.

 

            Pelorat, on the other hand, looked about with appreciation and drew his breath deeply through his nose with relish, liking the bite of the cold, at least for the moment. He even deliberately unseamed his coat in order to feel the wind against his chest. In a little while, he knew, he would seam up again and adjust his scarf, but for now he wanted tofeel the existence of an atmosphere. One never did aboard ship.

 

            Bliss drew her coat closely about herself, and, with gloved hands, dragged her hat down to cover her ears. Her face was crumpled in misery and seemed close to tears.

 

            She muttered, “This world is evil. It hates and mistreats us.”

 

            “Not at all, Bliss dear,” said Pelorat earnestly. “I’m sure the inhabitant; like this world, and that it-uh-likes them, if you want to put it that way. We’ll be indoors soon enough, and it will be warm there.”

 

            Almost as an afterthought, he flipped one side of his coat outward curved it about her, while she snuggled against his shirtfront.

 

            Trevize did his best to ignore the temperature. He obtained a map card from the port authority, checking it on his pocket computer to sure that it gave the necessary details-his aisle and lot number, the engine number of his ship, and so on. He checked once more to be sure that the ship was tightly secured, and then took out the maximum insurance allowed against the chance of misadventure (useless, actually, theFar Star should be invulnerable at the likely Comporellian level of technology, and was entirely irreplaceable at whatever price, if it were not) !

 

            Trevize found the taxi-station where it ought to be. (A number of facilities at spaceports were standardized in position, appearance, and manner of use. They had to be, in view of the multiworld nature of the clientele.)

 

            He signaled for a taxi, punching out the destination merely as “City.”

 

            A taxi glided up to them on diamagnetic skis, drifting slightly under the impulse of the wind, and trembling under the vibration of its not-quite-silent engine. It was a dark gray in color and bore its white taxi-insignia on the doors. The taxi-driver was wearing a dark coat and a white, furred hat.

 

            Pelorat, becoming aware, said softly, “The planetary decor seem to be black and white.”

 

            Trevize said, “It may be more lively in the city proper.”

 

            The driver spoke into a small microphone, perhaps in order to avoid opening the window. “Going to the city, folks?”

 

            There was a gentle singsong to his Galactic dialect that was rather attractive, and he was not hard to understand-always a relief on a new world.

 

            Trevize said, “That’s right,” and the rear door slid open.

 

            Bliss entered, followed by Pelorat, and then by Trevize. The door closed and warm air welled upward.

 

            Bliss rubbed her hands and breathed a long sigh of relief.

 

            The taxi pulled out slowly, and the driver said, “That ship you came in is gravitic, isn’t it?”

 

            Trevize said dryly, “Considering the way it came down, would you doubt it?”

 

            The driver said, “Is it from Terminus, then?”

 

            Trevize said, “Do you know any other world that could build one?”

 

            The driver seemed to digest that as the taxi took on speed. He then said, “Do you always answer a question with a question?”

 

            Trevize couldn’t resist. “Why not?”

 

            “In that case, how would you answer me if I asked if your name were Golan Trevize?”

 

            “I would answer: What makes you ask?”

 

            The taxi came to a halt at the outskirts of the spaceport and the driver said, “Curiosity! I ask again: Are you Golan Trevize?”

 

            Trevize’s voice became stiff and hostile. “What business is that of yours?”

 

            “My friend,” said the driver, “We’re not moving till you answer the question. And if you don’t answer in a clear yes or no in about two seconds, I’m turning the heat off in the passenger compartment and we’ll keep on waiting. Are you Golan Trevize, Councilman of Terminus? If your answer is in the negative, you will have to show me your identification papers.”

 

            Trevize said, “Yes, I am Golan Trevize, and as a Councilman of the Foundation, I expect to be treated with all the courtesy due my rank. Your failure to do so will have you in hot water, fellow. Now what?”

 

            “Now we can proceed a little more lightheartedly.” The taxi began to move again. “I choose my passengers carefully, and I had expected to pick up two men only. The woman was a surprise and I might have made a mistake. As it is, if I have you, then I can leave it to you to explain the woman when you reach your destination.”

 

            “You don’t know my destination.”

 

            “As it happens, I do. You’re going to the Department of Transportation.”

 

            “That’s not where I want to go.”

 

            “That matters not one little bit, Councilman. If I were a taxi-driver, I’d take you where you want to go. Since I’m not, I take you where I want you to go.”

 

            “Pardon me,” said Pelorat, leaning forward, “you certainly seem to be a taxi-driver. You’re driving a taxi.”

 

            “Anyone might drive a taxi. Not everyone has a license to do so. And not every car that looks like a taxi is a taxi.”

 

            Trevize said, “Let’s stop playing games. Who are you and what are you doing? Remember that you’ll have to account for this to the Foundation.”

 

            “Not I,” said the driver, “My superiors, perhaps. I’m an agent of the Comporellian Security Force. I am under orders to treat you with all due respect to your rank, but you must go where I take you. And be very careful how you react, for this vehicle is armed, and I am under orders to defend myself against attack.”

 

  

 

 16.

 

  

 

            THE VEHICLE, having reached cruising speed, moved with absolute, smooth quiet, and Trevize sat there in quietness as frozen. He was aware, without actually looking, of Pelorat glancing at him now and then with a look of uncertainty on his face, a “What do we do now? Please tell me” look.

 

            Bliss, a quick glance told him, sat calmly, apparently unconcerned. Of course, she was a whole world in herself. All of Gaia, though it might be at Galactic distances, was wrapped up in her skin. She had resources that could be called on in a true emergency.

 

            But, then, what had happened?

 

            Clearly, the official at the entry station, following routine, had sent down his report-omitting Bliss-and it had attracted the interest of the security people and, of all things, the Department of Transportation. Why?

 

            It was peacetime and he knew of no specific tensions between Comporellon and the Foundation. He himself was an important Foundation official-

 

            Wait, he had told the official at the entry station-Kendray, his name had been-that he was on important business with the Comporellian government. He had stressed that in his attempt to get through. Kendray must have reported that as well and that would rouse all sorts of interest.

 

            He hadn’t anticipated that, and he certainly should have.

 

            What, then, about his supposed gift of rightness? Was he beginning to believe that he was the black box that Gaia thought he was-or said it thought he was. Was he being led into a quagmire by the growth of an overconfidence built on superstition?

 

            How could he for one moment be trapped in that folly? Had he never in his life been wrong? Did he know what the weather would be tomorrow? Did he win large amounts in games of chance? The answers were no, no, and no.

 

            Well, then, was it only in the large, inchoate things that he was always right? How could he tell?

 

            Forget that!-After all, the mere fact that he had stated he had important state business-no, it was “Foundation security” that he had said-

 

            Well, then, the mere fact that he was there on a matter of Foundation security, coming, as he had, secretly and unheralded, would surely attract their attention.-Yes, but until they knew what it was all about they would surely act with the utmost circumspection. They would be ceremonious and treat him as a high dignitary. They would not kidnap him and make use of threats.

 

            Yet that was exactly what they had done. Why?

 

            What made them feel strong enough and powerful enough to treat a Councilman of Terminus in such a fashion?

 

            Could it be Earth? Was the same force that hid the world of origin so effectively, even against the great mentalists of the Second Foundation, now working to circumvent his search for Earth in the very first stage of that search? Was Earth omniscient? Omnipotent?

 

            Trevize shook his head. That way lay paranoia. Was he going to blame Earth for everything? Was every quirk of behavior, every bend in the road, every twist of circumstance, to be the result of the secret machinations of Earth? As soon as he began to think in that fashion, he was defeated.

 

            At that point, he felt the vehicle decelerating and was brought back to reality at a stroke.

 

            It occurred to him that he had never, even for one moment, looked at the city through which they had been passing. He looked about now, a touch wildly. The buildings were low, but it was a cold planet, most of the structures were probably underground.

 

            He saw no trace of color and that seemed against human nature.

 

            Occasionally, he could see a person pass, well bundled. But, then, the people, like the buildings themselves, were probably mostly, underground.

 

            The taxi had stopped before a low, broad building, set in a depression, the bottom of which Trevize could not see. Some moments passed and it continued to remain there, the driver himself motionless as well. His tall, white hat nearly touched the roof of the vehicle.

 

            Trevize wondered fleetingly how the driver managed to step in and out of the vehicle without knocking his hat off, then said, with the controlled anger one would expect of a haughty and mistreated official, “Well, driver, what now?”

 

            The Comporellian version of the glittering field-partition that separated the driver from the passengers was not at all primitive. Sound waves could pass through-though Trevize was quite certain that material objects, at reasonable energies, could not.

 

            The driver said, “Someone will be up to get you. Just sit back and take it easy.”

 

            Even as he said this, three heads appeared in a slow, smooth ascent from the depression in which the building rested. After that, there came the rest of the bodies. Clearly, the newcomers were moving up the equivalent of an escalator, but Trevize could not see the details of the device from where he sat.

 

            As the three approached, the passenger door of the taxi opened and a flood of cold air swept inward.

 

            Trevize stepped out, seaming his coat to the neck. The other two followed him-Bliss with considerable reluctance.

 

            The three Comporellians were shapeless, wearing garments that ballooned outward and were probably electrically heated. Trevize felt scorn at that. There was little use for such things on Terminus, and the one time, he had borrowed a heat-coat during winter on the nearby planet of Anacreon, he discovered it had a tendency to grow warmer at a slow rate so that by the time he realized he was too warm he was perspiring uncomfortably.

 

            As the Comporellians approached, Trevize noted with a distinct sense of indignation that they were armed. Nor did they try to conceal the fact. Quite the contrary. Each had a blaster in a holster attached to the outer garment

 

            One of the Comporellians, having stepped up to confront Trevize, said gruffly, “Your pardon, Councilman,” and then pulled his coat open with rough movement. He had inserted questing hands which moved quickly up and down Trevize’s sides, back, chest, and thighs. The coat was shaken and felt. Trevize was too overcome by confused astonishment to realize he had been rapidly and efficiently searched till it was over.

 

            Pelorat, his chin drawn down and his mouth in a twisted grimace, was undergoing a similar indignity at the hands of a second Comporellian.

 

            The third was approaching Bliss, who did not wait to be touched. She, at least, knew what to expect, somehow, for she whipped off her coat and, for a moment, stood there in her light clothing, exposed to the whistle of the wind.

 

            She said, freezingly enough to match the temperature, “You can see I’m not armed.”

 

            And indeed anyone could. The Comporellian shook the coat, as though by its weight he could tell if it contained a weapon-perhaps he could-and retreated.

 

            Bliss put on her coat again, huddling into it, and for a moment Trevize admired her gesture. He knew how she felt about the cold, but she had not allowed a tremor or shiver to escape her as she had stood there in thin blouse and slacks. (Then he wondered if, in the emergency, she might not have drawn warmth from the rest of Gaia.)

 

            One of the Comporellians gestured, and the three Outworlders followed him. The other two Comporellians fell behind. The one or two pedestrians who were on the street did not bother to watch what was happening. Either they were too accustomed to the sight or, more likely, had their minds occupied with getting to some indoor destination as soon as possible.

 

            Trevize saw now that it was a moving ramp up which the Comporellians had ascended. They were descending now, all six of them, and pasted through a lock arrangement almost as complicated as that on a spaceship-to keep heat inside, no doubt, rather than air.

 

            And then, at once, they were inside a huge building.

 

  

 

 5. Struggle for the Ship

 

  

 

 17.

 

  

 

      TREVIZE’S first impression was that he was on the set of a hyperdrama-specifically, that of a historical romance of Imperial days. There was a particular set, with few variations (perhaps only one existed and was used by every hyperdrama producer, for all he knew), that represented the great world-girdling planet-city of Trantor in its prime.

 

            There were the large spaces, the busy scurry of pedestrians, the small vehicles speeding along the lanes reserved for them.

 

            Trevize looked up, almost expecting to see air-taxis climbing into dim vaulted recesses, but that at least was absent. In fact, as his initial astonishment subsided, it was clear that the building was far smaller than one would expect on Trantor. It wasonly a building and not part of a complex that stretched unbroken for thousands of miles in every direction.

 

            The colors were different, too. On the hyperdramas, Trantor was always depicted as impossibly garish in coloring and the clothing was, if taken literally, thoroughly impractical and unserviceable. However, all those colors and frills were meant to serve a symbolic purpose for they indicated the decadence (a view that was obligatory, these days) of the Empire, and of Trantor particularly.

 

            If that were so, however, Comporellon was the very reverse of decadent, for the color scheme that Pelorat had remarked upon at the spaceport was here borne out.

 

            The walls were in shades of gray, the ceilings white, the clothing of the population in black, gray, and white. Occasionally, there was an all-black costume; even more occasionally, an all-gray; never an all-white that Trevize could see. The pattern was always different, however, as though people, deprived of color, still managed, irrepressibly, to find ways of asserting individuality.

 

            Faces tended to be expressionless or, if not that, then grim. Women wore their hair short; men longer, but pulled backward into short queues. No one looked at anyone else as he or she passed. Everyone seemed to breathe a purposefulness, as though there was definite business on each mind and room for nothing else. Men and women dressed alike, with only length of hair and the slight bulge of breast and width of hip marking the difference.

 

            The three were guided into an elevator that went down five levels. There they emerged and were moved on to a door on which there appeared in small and unobtrusive lettering, white on gray, “Mitza Lizalor, MinTrans.”

 

            The Comporellian in the lead touched the lettering, which, after a moment, glowed in response. The door opened and they walked in.

 

            It was a large room and rather empty, the bareness of content serving, perhaps, as a kind of conspicuous consumption of space designed to show the power of the occupant.

 

            Two guards stood against the far wall, faces expressionless and eyes firmly fixed on those entering. A large desk filled the center of the room, set perhaps just a little back of center. Behind the desk was, presumably, Mitza Lizalor, large of body, smooth of face, dark of eyes. Two strong and capable hands with long, square-ended fingers rested on the desk.

 

            The MinTrans (Minister of Transportation, Trevize assumed) had the lapels of the outer garment a broad and dazzling white against the dark gray of the rest of the costume. The double bar of white extended diagonally below the lapels, across the garment itself and crossing at the center of the chest. Trevize could see that although the garment was cut in such a fashion as to obscure the swelling of a woman’s breasts on either side, the white X called attention to them.

 

            The Minister was undoubtedly a woman. Even if her breasts were ignored, her short hair showed it, and though there was no makeup on her face, her features showed it, too.

 

            Her voice, too, was indisputably feminine, a rich contralto.

 

            She said, “Good afternoon. It is not often that we are honored by a visit of men from Terminus.-And of an unreported woman as well.” Her eyes passed from one to another, then settled on Trevize, who was standing stiffly and frowningly erect. “And one of the men a member of the Council, too.”

 

            “A Councilman of the Foundation,” said Trevize, trying to make his voice ring. “Councilman Golan Trevize on a mission from the Foundation.”

 

            “On a mission?” The Minister’s eyebrows rose.

 

            “On a mission,” repeated Trevize. “Why, then, are we being treated as felons? Why have we been taken into custody by armed guards and brought here as prisoners? The Council of the Foundation, I hope you understand, will not be pleased to hear of this.”

 

            “And in any case,” said Bliss, her voice seeming a touch shrill in comparison with that of the older woman, “are we to remain standing indefinitely?”

 

            The Minister gazed coolly at Bliss for a long moment, then raised an arm and said, “Three chairs! Now!”

 

            A door opened and three men, dressed in the usual somber Comporellian fashion, brought in three chairs at a semitrot. The three people standing before the desk sat down.

 

            “There,” said the Minister, with a wintry smile, “are we comfortable?”

 

            Trevize thought not. The chairs were uncushioned, cold to the touch, flat of surface and back, making no compromise with the shape of the body. He said, “Why are we here?”

 

            The Minister consulted papers lying on her desk. “I will explain as soon as I am certain of my facts. Your ship is theFar Star out of Terminus. Is that correct, Councilman?”

 

            “It is.”

 

            The Minister looked up. “I used your title, Councilman. Will you, as a courtesy, use mine?”

 

            “Would Madam Minister be sufficient? Or is there an honorific?”

 

            “No honorific, sir, and you need not double your words. ‘Minister’ is sufficient, or ‘Madam’ if you weary of repetition.”

 

            “Then my answer to your question is: It is, Minister.”

 

            “The captain of the ship is Golan Trevize, citizen of the Foundation and member of the Council on Terminus-a freshman Councilman, actually. And you are Trevize. Am I correct in all this, Councilman?”

 

            “You are, Minister. And since I am a citizen of the Foundation-”

 

            “I am not yet done, Councilman. Save your objections till I am. Accompanying you is Janov Pelorat, scholar, historian, and citizen of the Foundation. And that is you, is it not, Dr. Pelorat?”

 

            Pelorat could not suppress a slight start as the Minister turned her keen glance on him. He said, “Yes, it is, my d-” He paused, and began again, “Yes, it is, Minister.”

 

            The Minister clasped her hands stiffly. “There is no mention in the report that has been forwarded to me of a woman. Is this woman a member of the ship’s complement?”

 

            “She is, Minister,” said Trevize.

 

            “Then I address myself to the woman. Your name?”

 

            “I am known as Bliss,” said Bliss, sitting erectly and speaking with calm clarity, “though my full name is longer, madam. Do you wish it all?”

 

            “I will be content with Bliss for the moment. Are you a citizen of the Foundation, Bliss?”

 

            “I am not, madam.”

 

            “Of what world are you a citizen, Bliss?”

 

            “I have no documents attesting to citizenship with respect to any world, madam.”

 

            “No papers, Bliss?” She made a small mark on the papers before her. “That fact is noted. What is it you are doing on board the ship?”

 

            “I am a passenger, madam.”

 

            “Did either Councilman Trevize or Dr. Pelorat ask to see your papers before you boarded, Bliss?”

 

            “No, madam.”

 

            “Did you inform them that you were without papers, Bliss?”

 

            “No, madam.”

 

            “What is your function on board ship, Bliss? Does your name suit your function?”

 

            Bliss said proudly, “I am a passenger and have no other function.”

 

            Trevize broke in. “Why are you badgering this woman, Minister? What law has she broken?”

 

            Minister Lizalor’s eyes shifted from Bliss to Trevize. She said, “You are an Outworlder, Councilman, and do not know our laws. Nevertheless, you are subject to them if you choose to visit our world. You do not bring your laws with you; that is a general rule of Galactic law, I believe.”

 

            “Granted, Minister, but that doesn’t tell me which of your laws she has broken.”

 

            “It is a general rule in the Galaxy, Councilman, that a visitor from a world outside the dominions of the world she is visiting have her identification papers with her. Many worlds are lax in this respect, valuing tourism, or indifferent to the rule of order. We of Comporellon are not. We are a world of law and rigid in its application. She is a worldless person, and as such, breaks our law.”

 

            Trevize said, “She had no choice in the matter. I was piloting the ship, and I brought it down to Comporellon. She had to accompany us, Minister, or do you suggest she should have asked to be jettisoned in space?”

 

            “This merely means that you, too, have broken our law, Councilman.”

 

            “No, that is not so, Minister. I am not an Outworlder. I am a citizen of the Foundation, and Comporellon and the worlds subject to it are an Associated Power of the Foundation. As a citizen of the Foundation, I can travel freely here.”

 

            “Certainly, Councilman, as long as you have documentation to prove that you are indeed a citizen of the Foundation.”

 

            “Which I do, Minister.”

 

            “Yet even as citizen of the Foundation, you do not have the right to break our law by bringing a worldless person with you.”

 

            Trevize hesitated. Clearly, the border guard, Kendray, had not kept faith with him, so there was no point in protecting him. He said, “We were not stopped at the immigration station and I considered that implicit permission to bring this woman with me, Minister.”

 

            “It is true you were not stopped, Councilman. It is true the woman was not reported by the immigration authorities and was passed through. I can suspect, however, that the officials at the entry station decided-and quite correctly-that it was more important to get your ship to the surface than to worry about a worldless person. What they did was, strictly speaking, an infraction of the rules, and the matter will have to be dealt with in the proper fashion, but I have no doubt that the decision will be that the infraction was justified. We are a world of rigid law, Councilman, but we are not rigid beyond the dictates of reason.”

 

            Trevize said at once, “Then I call upon reason to bend your rigor now, Minister. If, indeed, you received no information from the immigration station to the effect that a worldless person was on board ship, then you had no knowledge that we were breaking any law at the time we landed. Yet it is quite apparent that you were prepared to take us into custody the moment we landed, and you did, in fact, do so. Why did you do so, when you had no reason to think any law was being broken?”

 

            The Minister smiled. “I understand your confusion, Councilman. Please let me assure you that whatever knowledge we had gained-or had not gained-as to the worldless condition of your passenger had nothing to do with your being taken into custody. We are acting on behalf of the Foundation, of which, as you point out, we are an Associated Power.”

 

            Trevize stared at her. “But that’s impossible, Minister. It’s even worse. It’s ridiculous.”

 

            The Minister’s chuckle was like the smooth flow of honey. She said, “I am interested in the way you consider it worse to be ridiculous than impossible, Councilman. I agree with you there. Unfortunately for you, however, it is neither. Why should it be?”

 

            “Because I am an official of the Foundation government, on a mission for them, and it is absolutely inconceivable that they would wish to arrest me, or that they would even have the power to do so, since I have legislative immunity.”

 

            “Ah, you omit my title, but you are deeply moved and that is perhaps forgivable. Still, I am not asked to arrest you directly. I do so only that I may carry out what I am asked to do, Councilman.”

 

            “Which is, Minister?” said Trevize, trying to keep his emotion under control in the face of this formidable woman.

 

            “Which is to commandeer your ship, Councilman, and return it to the Foundation.”

 

            “What?”

 

            “Again you omit my title, Councilman. That is very slipshod of you and no way to press your own case. The ship is not yours, I presume. Was it designed by you, or built by you, or paid for by you?”

 

            “Of course not, Minister. It was assigned to me by the Foundation government.”

 

            “Then, presumably, the Foundation government has the right to cancel that assignment, Councilman. It is a valuable ship, I imagine.”

 

            Trevize did not answer.

 

            The Minister said, “It is a gravitic ship, Councilman. There cannot be many and even the Foundation must have but a very few. They must regret having assigned one of those very few to you. Perhaps you can persuade them to assign you another and less valuable ship that will nevertheless amply, suffice for your mission.-But we must have the ship in which you have arrived.”

 

            “No, Minister, I cannot give up the ship. I cannot believe the Foundation asks it of you.”

 

            The Minister smiled. “Not of me solely, Councilman. Not of Comporellon, specifically. We have reason to believe that the request was sent out to everyone of the many worlds and regions under Foundation jurisdiction or association. From this, I deduce that the Foundation does not know your itinerary and is seeking you with a certain angry vigor. From which I further deduce that you have no mission to deal with Comporellon on behalf of the Foundation since in that case they would know where you were and deal with us specifically. In short, Councilman, you have been lying to me.”

 

            Trevize said, with a certain difficulty, “I would like to see a copy of request you have received from the Foundation government, Minister. I am entitled, I think, to that.”

 

            “Certainly, if all this comes to legal action. We take our legal forms very seriously, Councilman, and your rights will be fully protected, I assure you. It would be better and easier, however, if we come to an agreement here without the publicity and delay of legal action. We would prefer that, and, I am certain, so would the Foundation, which cannot wish the Galaxy at large to know of a runaway Legislator. That would put the Foundation in a ridiculous light, and, by your estimate and mine, that would be worse than impossible.”

 

            Trevize was again silent.

 

            The Minister waited a moment, then went on, as imperturbable as ever. “Come, Councilman, either way, by informal agreement or by legal action, we intend to have the ship. The penalty for bringing in a worldless passenger will depend on which route we take. Demand the law and she will represent an additional point against you and you will all suffer the full punishment for the crime, and that will not be light, I assure you. Come to an agreement, and your passenger can be sent away by commercial flight to any destination she wishes, and, for that matter, you two can accompany her, if you wish. Or, if the Foundation is willing, we can supply you with one of our own ships, a perfectly adequate one, provided, of course, that the Foundation will replace it with an equivalent ship of their own. Or, if, for any reason, you do not wish to return to Foundation-controlled territory, we might be willing to offer you refuge here and, perhaps, eventual Comporellian citizenship. You see, you have many possibilities of gain if you come to a friendly arrangement, but none at all if you insist on your legal rights.”

 

            Trevize said, “Minister, you are too eager. You promise what you cannot do. You cannot offer me refuge in the face of a Foundation request that I be delivered to them.”

 

            The Minister said, “Councilman, I never promise what I cannot do. The Foundation’s request is only for the ship. They make no request concerning you as an individual, or for anyone else on the ship. Their sole request is for the vessel.”

 

            Trevize glanced quickly at Bliss, and said, “May I have your permission, Minister, to consult with Dr. Pelorat and Miss Bliss for a short while?”

 

            “Certainly, Councilman. You may have fifteen minutes.”

 

            “Privately, Minister.”

 

            “You will be led to a room and, after fifteen minutes, you will be led back, Councilman. You will not be interfered with while you are there nor will we attempt to monitor your conversation. You have my word on that and I keep my word. However, you will be adequately guarded so do not be so foolish as to think of escaping.”

 

            “We understand, Minister.”

 

            “And when you come back, we will expect your free agreement to give up the ship. Otherwise, the law will take its course, and it will be much the worse for all of you, Councilman. Is that understood?”

 

            “That is understood, Minister,” said Trevize, keeping his rage under tight control, since its expression would do him no good at all.

 

  

 

 18.

 

  

 

            IT was a small room, but it was well lighted. It contained a couch and two chairs, and one could hear the soft sound of a ventilating fan. On the whole, it was clearly more comfortable than the Minister’s large and sterile office.

 

            A guard had led them there, grave and tall, his hand hovering near the butt of his blaster. He remained outside the door as they entered and said, in a heavy voice, “You have fifteen minutes.”

 

            He had no sooner said that than the door slid shut, with a thud.

 

            Trevize said, “I can only hope that we can’t be overheard.”

 

            Pelorat said, “She did give us her word, Golan.”

 

            “You judge others by yourself, Janov. Her so-called ‘word’ will not suffice. She will break it without hesitation if she wants to.”

 

            “It doesn’t matter,” said Bliss. “I can shield this place.”

 

            “You have a shielding device?” asked Pelorat.

 

            Bliss smiled, with a sudden flash of white teeth. “Gaia’s mind is a shielding device, Pel. It’s an enormous mind.”

 

            “We are here,” said Trevize angrily, “because of the limitations of that enormous mind.”

 

            “What do you mean?” said Bliss.

 

            “When the triple confrontation broke up, you withdrew me from the minds of both the Mayor and that Second Foundationer, Gendibal. Neither was to think of me again, except distantly and indifferently. I was to be left to myself.”

 

            “We had to do that,” said Bliss. “You are our most important resource.”

 

            “Yes. Golan Trevize, the ever-right. But you did not withdraw my ship from their minds, did you? Mayor Branno did not ask for me; she had no interest in me, but shedid ask for the ship. She has not forgotten the ship.”

 

            Bliss frowned.

 

            Trevize said, “Think about it. Gaia casually assumed that I included my ship; that we were a unit. If Branno didn’t think of me, she wouldn’t think of the ship. The trouble is that Gaia doesn’t understand individuality. It thought of the ship and me as a single organism, and it was wrong to think that.”

 

            Bliss said softly, “That is possible.”

 

            “Well, then,” said Trevize flatly, “it’s up to you to rectify that mistake. I must have my gravitic ship and my computer. Nothing else will do. Therefore, Bliss, make sure that I keep the ship. You can control minds.”

 

            “Yes, Trevize, but we do not exercise that control lightly. We did it in connection with the triple confrontation, but do you know how long that confrontation was planned? Calculated? Weighed? It took-literally-many years. I cannot simply walk up to a woman and adjust the mind to suit someone’s convenience.”

 

            “Is this a time-”

 

            Bliss went on forcefully. “If I began to follow such a course of action, where do we stop? I might have influenced the agent’s mind at the entry station and we would have passed through at once. I might have influenced the agent’s mind in the vehicle, and he would have let us go.”

 

            “Well, since you mention it, why didn’t you do these things?”

 

            “Because we don’t know where it would lead. We don’t know the side effects, which may well turn out to make the situation worse. If I adjust the Minister’s mind now, that will affect her dealings with others with whom she will come in contact and, since she is a high official in her government, it may affect interstellar relations. Until such time as the matter is thoroughly worked out, we dare not touch her mind.”

 

            “Then why are you with us?”

 

            “Because the time may come when your life is threatened. I must protect your life at all costs, even at the cost of my Pel or of myself. Your life was not threatened at the entry station. It is not threatened now. You must work this out for yourself, and do so at least until Gaia can estimate the consequence of some sort of action and take it.”

 

            Trevize fell into a period of thought. Then he said, “In that case, I have to try something. It may not work.”

 

            The door moved open, thwacking into its socket as noisily as it had closed.

 

            The guard said, “Come out.”

 

            As they emerged, Pelorat whispered, “What are you going to do, Golan?”

 

            Trevize shook his head and whispered, “I’m not entirely sure. I will have to improvise.”

 

  

 

 19.

 

  

 

            MINISTER Lizalor was still at her desk when they returned to her office. Her face broke into a grim smile as they walked in.

 

            She said, “I trust, Councilman Trevize, that you have returned to tell me that you are giving up this Foundation ship you have.”

 

            “I have come, Minister,” said Trevize calmly, “to discuss terms.”

 

            “There are no terms to discuss, Councilman. A trial, if you insist on one, can be arranged very quickly and would be carried through even more quickly. I guarantee your conviction even in a perfectly fair trial since your guilt in bringing in a worldless person is obvious and indisputable. After that, we will be legally justified in seizing the ship and you three would suffer heavy penalties. Don’t force those penalties on yourself just to delay us for a day.”

 

            “Nevertheless, there are terms to discuss, Minister, because no matter how quickly you convict us, you cannot seize the ship without my consent. Any attempt you make to force your way into the ship without me will destroy it, and the spaceport with it, and every human being in the spaceport. This will surely infuriate the Foundation, something you dare not do. Threatening us or mistreating us in order to force me to open the ship is surely against your law, and if you break your own law in desperation and subject us to torture or even to a period of cruel and unusual imprisonment, the Foundation will find out about it and they will be even more furious. However much they want the ship they cannot allow a precedent that would permit the mistreatment of Foundation citizens.-Shall we talk terms?”

 

            “This is all nonsense,” said the Minister, scowling. “If necessary, we will call in the Foundation itself. They will know how to open their own ship, orthey will force you to open it.”

 

            Trevize said, “You do not use my title, Minister, but you are emotionally moved, so that is perhaps forgivable. You know that the very last thing you will do is call in the Foundation, since you have no intention of delivering the ship to them.”

 

            The smile faded from the Minister’s face. “What nonsense is this, Councilman?”

 

            “The kind of nonsense, Minister, that others, perhaps, ought not to hear. Let my friend and the young woman go to some comfortable hotel room and obtain the rest they need so badly and let your guards leave, too. They can remain just outside and you can have them leave you a blaster. You are not a small woman and, with a blaster, you have nothing to fear from me. I am unarmed.”

 

            The Minister leaned toward him across the desk. “I have nothing to fear from you in any case.”

 

            Without looking behind her, she beckoned to one of the guards, who approached at once and came to a halt at her side with a stamp of his feet. said, “Guard, take that one and that one to Suite 5. They are to stay there and to be made comfortable and to be well guarded. You will be held responsible for any mistreatment they may receive, as well as for any breach of security.”

 

            She stood up, and not all of Trevize’s determination to maintain an absolute composure sufficed to keep him from flinching a little. She was tall; as tall, at least, as Trevize’s own 1.85 meters, perhaps a centimeter or so taller. She had a narrow waistline, with the two white strips across her chest continuing into an encirclement of her waist, making it look even narrower, There was a massive grace about her and Trevize thought ruefully that her statement that she had nothing to fear from him might well be correct. In a rough-and-tumble, he thought, she would have no trouble pinning his shoulders to the mat.

 

            She said, “Come with me, Councilman. If you are going to talk nonsense then, for your own sake, the fewer who hear you, the better.”

 

            She led the way in a brisk stride, and Trevize followed,’ feeling shrunken in her massive shadow, a feeling he had never before had with a woman.

 

            They entered an elevator and, as the door closed behind them, she said, “We are alone now and if you are under the illusion, Councilman, that You can use force with me in order to accomplish some imagined purpose, please forget that.” The singsong in her voice grew more pronounced as she said, with clear amusement, “You look like a reasonably strong specimen, but I assure you I will have no trouble in breaking your arm-or your back, if I must. I am armed, but I will not have to use any weapon.”

 

            Trevize scratched at his cheek as his eyes drifted first down, then up her body. “Minister, I can hold my own in a wrestling match with any man my weight, but I have already decided to forfeit a bout with you. I know when I am outclassed.”

 

            “Good,” said the Minister, and looked pleased.

 

            Trevize said, “Where are we going, Minister?”

 

            “Down! Quite far down. Don’t be upset, however. In the hyperdramas, this would be a preliminary to taking you to a dungeon, I suppose, but we have no dungeons on Comporellon-only reasonable prisons. We are going to my private apartment; not as romantic as a dungeon in the bad old Imperial days, but more comfortable.”

 

            Trevize estimated that they were at least fifty meters below the surface of the planet, when the elevator door slid to one side and they stepped out.

 

  

 

 20.

 

  

 

            TREVIZE looked about the apartment with clear surprise.

 

            The Minister said grimly, “Do you disapprove of my living quarters, Councilman?”

 

            “No, I have no reason to, Minister. I am merely surprised. I find it unexpected. The impression I had of your world from what little I saw and heard since arriving was that it was an-an abstemious one, eschewing useless luxury.”

 

            “So it is, Councilman. Our resources are limited, and our life must be as harsh as our climate.”

 

            “But this, Minister,” and Trevize held out both hands as though to embrace the room where, for the first time on this world, he saw color, where the couches were well cushioned, where the light from the illuminated walls was soft, and where the floor was force-carpeted so that steps were springy and silent. “This is surely luxury.”

 

            “We eschew, as you say, Councilman, useless luxury; ostentatious luxury; wastefully excessive luxury. This, however, is private luxury, which has its use. I work hard and bear much responsibility. I need a place where I can forget, for a while, the difficulties of my post.”

 

            Trevize said, “And do all Comporellians live like this when the eyes of others are averted, Minister?”

 

            “It depends on the degree of work and responsibility. Few can afford to, or deserve to, or, thanks to our code of ethics, want to.”

 

            “But you, Minister, can afford to, deserve to-and want to?”

 

            The Minister said, “Rank has its privileges as well as its duties. And now sit down, Councilman, and tell me of this madness of yours.” She sat down on the couch, which gave slowly under her solid weight, and pointed to an equally soft chair in which Trevize would be facing her at not too great a distance.”

 

            Trevize sat down. “Madness, Minister?”

 

            The Minister relaxed visibly, leaning her right elbow on a pillow. “In private conversation, we need not observe the rules of formal discourse too punctiliously. You may call me Lizalor. I will call you, Trevize.-Tell me what is on your mind, Trevize, and let us inspect it.”

 

            Trevize crossed his legs and sat back in his chair. “See here, Lizalor, you gave me the choice of either agreeing to give up the ship voluntarily, or of being subjected to a formal trial. In both cases, you would end up with the ship.-Yet you have been going out of your way to persuade me to adopt the former alternative. You are willing to offer me another ship to replace mine, so that my friends and I might go anywhere we chose. We might even stay here on Comporellon and qualify for citizenship, if we chose. In smaller things, you were willing to allow me fifteen minutes to consult with my friends. You were even willing to bring me here to your private apartment, while my friends are now, presumably, in comfortable quarters. In short, you are bribing me, Lizalor, rather desperately, to grant you the ship without the necessity of a trial.”

 

            “Come, Trevize, are you in no mood to give me credit for humane impulses?”

 

            “None.”

 

            “Or the thought that voluntary surrender would be quicker and more convenient than a trial would be?”

 

            “No! I would offer a different suggestion.”

 

            “Which is?”

 

            “A trial has one thing in its strong disfavor; it is a public affair. You have several times referred to this world’s rigorous legal system, and I suspect it would be difficult to arrange a trial without its being fully recorded. If were so, the Foundation would know of it and you would have to hand the ship to it once the trial was over.”

 

            “Of course,” said Lizalor, without expression. “It is the Foundation owns the ship.”

 

            “But,” said Trevize, “a private agreement with me would not have to be placed on formal record. You could have the ship and, since the foundation would not know of the matter-they don’t even know that we are on this world-Comporellon could keep the ship. That, I am sure, is what you intend to do.”

 

            “Why should we do that?” She was still without expression. “Are we not part of the Foundation Confederation?”

 

            “Not quite. Your status is that of an Associated Power. In any map on which the member worlds of the Federation are shown in red, Comporellon and its dependent worlds would show up as a patch of pale pink.”

 

            “Even so, as an Associated Power, we would surely co-operate with the Foundation.”

 

            “Would you? Might not Comporellon be dreaming of total independence; even leadership? You are an old world. Almost all worlds claim to be older than they are, but Comporellonis an old world.”

 

            Minister Lizalor allowed a cold smile to cross her face. “The oldest, if some of our enthusiasts are to be believed.”

 

            “Might there not have been a time when Comporellon was indeed the leading world of a relatively small group of worlds? Might you not still dream of recovering that lost position of power?”

 

            “Do you think we dream of so impossible a goal? I called it madness before I knew your thoughts, and it is certainly madness now that I do.”

 

            “Dreams may be impossible, yet still be dreamed. Terminus, located at the very edge of the Galaxy and with a five-century history that is briefer than that of any other world, virtually rules the Galaxy. And shall Comporellon not? Eh?” Trevize was smiling.

 

            Lizalor remained grave. “Terminus reached that position, we are given to understand, by the working out of Hari Seldon’s Plan.”

 

            “That is the psychological buttress of its superiority and it will hold only as long, perhaps, as people believe it. It may be that the Comporellian government does not believe it. Even so, Terminus also enjoys a technological buttress. Terminus’s hegemony over the Galaxy undoubtedly rests on its advanced technology-of which the gravitic ship you are so anxious to have is an example. No other world but Terminus disposes of gravitic ships. If Comporellon could have one, and could learn its workings in detail, it would be bound to have taken a giant technological step forward. I don’t think it would be sufficient to help you overcome Terminus’s lead, but your government might think so.”

 

            Lizalor said, “You can’t be serious in this. Any government that kept the ship in the face of the Foundation’s desire to have it would surely experience the Foundation’s wrath, and history shows that the Foundation can be quite uncomfortably wrathful.”

 

            Trevize said, “The Foundation’s wrath would only be exerted if the Foundation knew there was something to be wrathful about.”

 

            “In that case; Trevize-if we assume your analysis of the situation is something other than mad-would it not be to your benefit to give us the ship and drive a hard bargain? We would pay well for the chance of having it quietly, according to your line of argument.”

 

            “Could you then rely on my not reporting the matter to the Foundation?”

 

            “Certainly. Since you would have to report your own part in it.”

 

            “I could report having acted under duress.”

 

            “Yes. Unless your good sense told you that your Mayor would never believe that.-Come, make a deal.”

 

            Trevize shook his head. “I will not, Madam Lizalor. The ship is mine and it must stay mine. As I have told you, it will blow up with extraordinary power if you attempt to force an entry. I assure you I am telling you the truth. Don’t rely on its being a bluff.”

 

            “Youcould open it, and reinstruct the computer.”

 

            “Undoubtedly, but I won’t do that.”

 

            Lizalor drew a heavy sigh. “You know we could make you change your mind-if not by what we could do to you, then by what we could do to your friend, Dr. Pelorat, or to the young woman.”

 

            “Torture, Minister? Is that your law?”

 

            “No, Councilman. But we might not have to do anything so crude. There is always the Psychic Probe.”

 

            For the first time since entering the Minister’s apartment, Trevize felt an inner chill.

 

            “You can’t do that either. The use of the Psychic Probe for anything but medical purposes is outlawed throughout the Galaxy.”

 

            “But if we are driven to desperation-”

 

            “I am willing to chance that,” said Trevize calmly, “for it would do you no good. My determination to retain my ship is so deep that the Psychic Probe would destroy my mind before it twisted it into giving it to you.” (That was a bluff, he thought, and the chill inside him deepened.) “And even if you were so skillful as to persuade me without destroying my mind and if I were to open the ship and disarm it and hand it over to you, it would still do you no good. The ship’s computer is even more advanced than the ship is, and it is designed somehow-I don’t know how-to work at its full potential only with me. It is what I might call a one-person computer.”

 

            “Suppose, then, you retained your ship, and remained its pilot. Would you consider piloting it for us-as an honored Comporellian citizen? A large salary. Considerable luxury. Your friends, too.”

 

            “No.”

 

            “What is it you suggest? That we simply let you and your friends launch your ship and go off into the Galaxy? I warn you that before we allow you to do this, we might simply inform the Foundation that you are here with your ship, and leave all to them.”

 

            “And lose the ship yourself?”

 

            “If we must lose it, perhaps we would rather lose it to the Foundation than to an impudent Outworlder.”

 

            “Then let me suggest a compromise of my own.”

 

            “A compromise? Well, I will listen. Proceed.”

 

            Trevize said carefully, “I am on an important mission. It began with Foundation support. That support seems to have been suspended, but the mission remains important. Let me have Comporellian support instead and if I complete the mission successfully, Comporellon will benefit.”           ‘

 

            Lizalor wore a dubious expression. “And you will not return the ship to the Foundation?”

 

            “I have never planned to do that. The Foundation would not be searching for the ship so desperately ifthey thought there was any intention of my casually returning it to them.”

 

            “That is not quite the same thing as saying that you will give the ship to us.”

 

            “Once I have completed the mission, the ship may be of no further use to me. In that case, I would not object to Comporellon having it.”

 

            The two looked at each other in silence for a few moments.

 

            Lizalor said, “You use the conditional. The ship ‘may be.’ That is of no value to us.”

 

            “I could make wild promises, but of what value would that be to you? The fact that my promises are cautious and limited should show you that they are at least sincere.”

 

            “Clever,” said Lizalor, nodding. “I like that. Well, what is your mission and how might it benefit Comporellon?”

 

            Trevize said, “No, no, it is your turn. Will you support me if I show you that the mission is of importance to Comporellon?”

 

            Minister Lizalor rose from the couch, a tall, overpowering presence. “I am hungry, Councilman Trevize, and I will get no further on an empty stomach. I will offer you something to eat and drink-in moderation. After that, we will finish the matter.”

 

            And it seemed to Trevize that there was a rather carnivorous look of anticipation about her at that moment, so that he tightened his lips with just a bit of unease.

 

  

 

 21.

 

  

 

            THE MEAL might have been a nourishing one, but it was not one to delight the palate. The main course consisted of boiled beef in a mustardy sauce, resting on a foundation of a leafy vegetable Trevize did not recognize. Nor did he like it for it had a bitter-salty taste he did not enjoy. He found out later it was a form of seaweed.

 

            There was, afterward, a piece of fruit that tasted something like an apple tainted by peach (not bad, actually) and a hot, dark beverage that was bitter enough for Trevize to leave half behind and ask if he might have some cold water instead. The portions were all small, but, under the circumstances, Trevize did not mind.

 

            The meal had been private, with no servants in view. The Minister had herself heated and served the food, and herself cleared away the dishes and cutlery.

 

            “I hope you found the meal pleasant,” said Lizalor, as they left the dining room.

 

            “Quite pleasant,” said Trevize, without enthusiasm.

 

            The Minister again took her seat on the couch. “Let us return then,” she said, “to our earlier discussion. You had mentioned that Comporellon might resent the Foundation’s lead in technology and its overlordship of the Galaxy. In a way that’s true, but that aspect of the situation would interest only those who are interested in interstellar politics, and they are comparatively few. What is much more to the point is that the average Comporellian is horrified at the immorality of the Foundation. There is immorality in most worlds, but it seems most marked in Terminus. I would say that any anti-Terminus animus that exists on this world is rooted in that, rather than in more abstract matters.”

 

            “Immorality?” said Trevize, puzzled. “Whatever the faults of the Foundation you have to admit it runs its part of the Galaxy with reasonable efficiency and fiscal honesty. Civil rights are, by and large, respected and-”

 

            “Councilman Trevize, I speak ofsexual morality.”

 

            “In that case, I certainly don’t understand you. We are a thoroughly moral society, sexually speaking. Women are well represented in every facet of social life. Our Mayor is a woman and nearly half the Council consists of-”

 

            The Minister allowed a look of exasperation to fleet across her face. “Councilman, are you mocking me? Surely you know what sexual morality meant. Is, or is not, marriage a sacrament upon Terminus?”

 

            “What do you mean by sacrament?”

 

            “Is there a formal marriage ceremony binding a couple together?”

 

            “Certainly, if people wish it. Such a ceremony simplifies tax problems and inheritance.”

 

            “But divorce can take place.”

 

            “Of course. It would certainly be sexually immoral to keep people tied to, each other, when-”

 

            “Are there no religious restrictions?”

 

            “Religious? There are people who make a philosophy out of ancient cults, but what has that to do with marriage?”

 

            “Councilman, here on Comporellon, every aspect of sex is strongly controlled. It may not take place out of marriage. Its expression is limited even within marriage. We are sadly shocked at those worlds, at Terminus, particularly, where sex seems to be considered a mere social pleasure of no great importance to be indulged in when, how, and with whom one pleases without regard to the values of religion.”

 

            Trevize shrugged. “I’m sorry, but I can’t undertake to reform the Galaxy, or even Terminus-and what has this to do with the matter of my ship?”

 

            “I’m talking about public opinion in the matter of your ship and how it limits my ability to compromise the matter. The people of Comporellon would be horrified if they found you had taken a young and attractive woman on board to serve the lustful urges of you and your companion. It is out consideration for the safety of the three of you that I have been urging you to accept peaceful surrender in place of a public trial.”

 

            Trevize said, “I see you have used the meal to think of a new type of persuasion by threat. Am I now to fear a lynch mob?”

 

            “I merely point out dangers. Will you be able to deny that the woman you have taken on board ship is anything other than a sexual convenience?”

 

            “Of course I can deny it. Bliss is the companion of my friend, Dr. Pelorat. He has no other competing companion. You may not define their state as marriage, but I believe that in Pelorat’s mind, and in the woman’s, too, there is a marriage between them.”

 

            “Are you telling me you are not involved yourself?”

 

            “Certainly not,” said Trevize. “What do you take me for?”

 

            “I cannot tell. I do not know your notions of morality.”

 

            “Then let me explain that my notions of morality tell me that I don’t trifle with my friend’s possessions-or his companionships.”

 

            “You are not even tempted?”

 

            “I can’t control the fact of temptation, but there’s no chance of my giving in to it.”