BLISS, entering their chamber, said, "Did Trevize tell you that we are going make the Jump and go through hyperspace any moment now?"
Pelorat, who was bent over his viewing disk, looked up, and said, "Actually, he just looked in and told me 'within the half-hour.' "
"I don't like the thought of it, Pel. I've never liked the Jump. I get a funny inside-out feeling."
Pelorat looked a bit surprised. "I had not thought of you as a space traveler, Bliss dear."
"I'm not particularly, and I don't mean that this is so only in my aspect as a component. Gaia itself has no occasion for regular space travel. By my/our/Gaia's very nature, I/we/Gaia don't explore, trade, or space junket. Still, there is the necessity of having someone at the entry stations-"
"As when we were fortunate enough to meet you."
"Yes, Pel." She smiled at him affectionately. "Or even to visit Sayshell and other stellar regions, for various reasons-usually clandestine. But, clandestine or not, that always means the Jump and, of course, when any part of Gaia Jumps, all of Gaia feels it."
"That's too bad," said Pel.
"It could be worse. The large mass of Gaia is not undergoing the jump, so the effect is greatly diluted. However, I seem to feel it much more than most of Gaia. As I keep trying to tell Trevize, though all of Gaia is Gaia, the individual components are not identical. We have our differences, and my makeup is, for some reason, particularly sensitive to the Jump."
"Wait!" said Pelorat, suddenly remembering. "Trevize explained that to me once. It's in ordinary ships that you have the worst of the sensation. In ordinary ships, one leaves the Galactic gravitational field on entering hyperspace, and comes back to it on returning to ordinary space. It's the leaving and returning that produces the sensation. But the Far Star is a gravitic ship. It is independent of the gravitational field, and does not truly leave it or return to it. For that reason, we won't feel a thing. I can assure you of that, dear, out of personal experience."
"But that's delightful. I wish I had thought to discuss the matter earlier. I would have saved myself considerable apprehension."
"That's an advantage in another way," said Pelorat, feeling an expansion of spirit in his unusual role as explainer of matters astronautic. "The ordinary ship has to recede from large masses such as stars for quite a long distance through ordinary space in order to make the Jump. Part of the reason is that the closer to a star, the more intense the gravitational field, and the more pronounced are the sensations of a Jump. Then, too, the more intense the gravitational field the more complicated the equations that must be solved in order to conduct the Jump safely and end at the point in ordinary space you wish to end at.
"In a gravitic ship, however, there is no Jump-sensation to speak of. In addition, this ship has a computer that is a great deal more advanced than ordinary computers and it can handle complex equations with unusual skill and speed. The result is that instead of having to move away from a star for a couple of weeks just to reach a safe and comfortable distance for a Jump, the Far Star need travel for only two or three days. This is especially so since we are not subject to a gravitational field and, therefore, to inertial effects-I admit I don't understand that, but that's what Trevize tells me-and can accelerate much more rapidly than an ordinary ship could."
Bliss said, "That's fine, and it's to Trev's credit that he can handle this unusual ship."
Pelorat frowned slightly. "Please, Bliss. Say 'Trevize.' "
"I do. I do. In his absence, however, I relax a little."
"Don't. You don't want to encourage the habit even slightly, dear. He's so sensitive about it."
"Not about that. He's sensitive about me. He doesn't like me."
"That's not so," said Pelorat earnestly. "I talked to him about that. Now, now, don't frown. I was extraordinarily tactful, dear child. He assured me he did not dislike you. He is suspicious of Gaia and unhappy over the fact that he has had to make it into the future of humanity. We have to make allowances for that. He'll get over it as he gradually comes to understand the advantages of Gaia."
"I hope so, but it's not just Gaia. Whatever he may tell you, Pel-and remember that he's very fond of you and doesn't want to hurt your feelings-he dislikes me personally."
"No, Bliss. He couldn't possibly."
"Not everyone is forced to love me simply because you do, Pel. Let me explain. Trev-all right, Trevize-thinks I'm a robot."
A look of astonishment suffused Pelorat's ordinarily stolid features. He said, "Surely he can't think you're an artificial human being."
"Why is that so surprising? Gaia was settled with the help of robots. That's a known fact."
"Robots might help, as machines might, but it was people who settled Gaia; people from Earth. That's what Trevize thinks. I know he does."
"There is nothing in Gaia's memory about Earth as I told you and Trevize. However, in our oldest memories there are still some robots, even after three thousand years, working at the task of completing the modification of Gaia into a habitable world. We were at that time also forming Gaia as a planetary consciousness-that took a long time, Pel dear, and that's another reason why our early memories are dim, and perhaps it wasn't a matter of Earth wiping them out, as Trevize thinks-"
"Yes, Bliss," said Pelorat anxiously, "but what of the robots?"
"Well, as Gaia formed, the robots left. We did not want a Gaia that included robots, for we were, and are, convinced that a robotic component is, in the long run, harmful to a human society, whether Isolate in nature or Planetary. I don't know how we came to that conclusion but it is possible that it is based on events dating back to a particularly early time in Galactic history, so that Gaia's memory does not extend back to it."
"If the robots left-"
"Yes, but what if some remained behind? What if I am one of them-fifteen thousand years old perhaps. Trevize suspects that."
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 the Far Star made the Jump. Neither Pelorat nor Bliss detected the action, nor would they have, had they been paying attention.
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 a 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 or** 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 as 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 you haven'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. I am 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 what seems 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 must** 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 mean refusing admittance? How 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."
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 the Far 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 like this 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 co-ordinates 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.
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 hope you 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 he resists 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, I can 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 Foundation officials "
"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."
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."
"My wife? Hut, my dear fellow, I don't have a wife at the moment."
"I know that, but he 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. A legal companion, one with enforceable rights in consequence of that companionship."
Pelorat said nervously, "Bliss, I do not 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 I am 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 as 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 that some 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. Opt 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 was your 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 the Far Star descended a microwave beam to a landing at the spaceport.
KENDRAY looked grave when he returned to the entry station and watched the Far 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 tell me. 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. I had 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."
"Would you 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 if you 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."
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 the Far 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. The Far 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 jetthrusts 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 the Far 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 to feel 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 and engine number of his ship, and so on. He checked once more to sure that the ship was tightly secured, and then took out the maximum insurance allowed against the chance of misadventure (useless, actually, the Far 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 tell 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."
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? Omipotent?
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 passed 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.
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 worldgirdling 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 was only 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 the Far 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 war 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 every one 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 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.
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 she did 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."
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, or they 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.
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 Comporellon is 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."
"You could 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 if they 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.
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 of sexual 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."
"No chance at all? Perhaps you are not interested in women."
"Don't you believe that. I am interested."
"How long has it been since you have had sex with a woman?"
"Months. Not at all since I left Terminus."
"Surely you don't enjoy that."
"I certainly don't," said Trevize, with strong feeling, "but the situation is such that I have no choice."
"Surely your friend, Pelorat, noting your suffering, would be willing to share his woman."
"I show him no evidence of suffering, but if I did, he would not be willing to share Bliss. Nor, I think, would the woman consent. She is not attracted to me."
"Do you say that because you have tested the matter?"
"I have not tested it. I make the judgment without feeling the need to test it. In any case, I don't particularly like her."
"Astonishing! She is what a man would consider attractive."
"Physically, she is attractive. Nevertheless, she does not appeal to me. For one thing, she is too young, too child-like in some ways."
"Do you prefer women of maturity, then?"
Trevize paused. Was there a trap here? He said cautiously, "I am old enough to value some women of maturity. And what has this to do with my ship?"
Lizalor said, "For a moment, forget your ship. I am forty-six years old, and I am not married. I have somehow been too busy to marry."
"In that case, by the rules of your society, you must have remained continent all your life. Is that why you asked how long it had been since I have had sex? Are you asking my advice in the matter? If so, I say it is not food and drink. It is uncomfortable to do without sex, but not impossible."
The Minister smiled and there was again that carnivorous look in her eyes. "Don't mistake me, Trevize. Rank has its privileges and it is possible to be discreet. I am not altogether an abstainer. Nevertheless, Comporellian men are unsatisfying. I accept the fact that morality is an absolute good, but it does tend to burden the men of this world with guilt, so that they become unadventurous, unenterprising, slow to begin, quick to conclude, and, in general, unskilled."
Trevize said, very cautiously, "There is nothing I can do about that, either."
"Are you implying that the fault may be mine? That I am uninspiring?"
Trevize raised a hand. "I don't say that at all."
"In that case, how would you react, given the opportunity? You, a man from an immoral world, who must have had a vast variety of sexual experiences of all kinds, who is under the pressure of several months of enforced abstinence even though in the constant presence of a young and charming woman. How would you react in the presence of a woman such as myself; who is the mature type you profess to like?"
Trevize said, "I would behave with the respect and decency appropriate to your rank and importance."
"Don't be a fool!" said the Minister. Her hand went to the right side of her waist. The strip of white that encircled it came loose and unwound from her chest and neck. The bodice of her black gown hung noticeably looser.
Trevize sat frozen. Had this been in her mind since-when? Or was it a bribe to accomplish what threats had not?
The bodice flipped down, along with its sturdy reinforcement at the breasts. The Minister sat there, with a look of proud disdain on her face, and bare from the waist up. Her breasts were a smaller version of the woman herself-massive, firm, and overpoweringly impressive.
"Well?" she said.
Trevize said, in all honesty, "Magnificent!"
"And what will you do about it?"
"What does morality dictate on Comporellon, Madam Lizalor?"
"What is that to a man of Terminus? What does your morality dictate? And begin. My chest is cold and wishes warmth."
Trevize stood up and began to disrobe.
TREVIZE felt almost drugged, and wondered how much time had elapsed.
Beside him lay Mitza Lizalor, Minister of Transportation. She was on her stomach, head to one side, mouth open, snoring distinctly. Trevize was relieved that she was asleep. Once she woke up, he hoped she would be quite aware that she had been asleep.
Trevize longed to sleep himself, but he felt it important that he not do so. She must not wake to find him asleep. She must realize that while she had been ground down to unconsciousness, he had endured. She would expect such endurance from a Foundation-reared immoralist and, at this point, it was better she not be disappointed.
In a way, he had done well. He had guessed, correctly, that Lizalor, given her physical size and strength, her political power, her contempt for the Comporellian men she had encountered, her mingled horror and fascination with tales (what had she heard? Trevize wondered) of the sexual feats of the decadents of Terminus, would want to be dominated. She might even expect to be, without being able to express her desire and expectation.
He had acted on that belief and, to his good fortune, found he was correct. (Trevize, the ever-right, he mocked himself.) It pleased the woman and it enabled Trevize to steer activities in a direction that would tend to wear her out while leaving himself relatively untouched.
It had not been easy. She had a marvelous body (forty-six, she had said, but it would not have shamed a twenty-five-year-old athlete) and enormous stamina-a stamina exceeded only by the careless zest with which she had spent it.
Indeed, if she could be tamed and taught moderation; if practice (but could he himself survive the practice?) brought her to a better sense of her own capacities, and, even more important, his, it might be pleasant to-
The snoring stopped suddenly and she stirred. He placed his hand on the shoulder nearest him and stroked it lightly-and her eyes opened. Trevize was leaning on his elbow, and did his best to look unworn and full of life.
"I'm glad you were sleeping, dear," he said. "You needed your rest."
She smiled at him sleepily and, for one queasy moment, Trevize thought she might suggest renewed activity, but she merely heaved herself about till she was resting on her back. She said, in a soft and satisfied voice, "I had you judged correctly from the start. You are a king of sexuality."
Trevize tried to look modest. "I must be more moderate."
"Nonsense. You were just right. I was afraid that you had been kept active and drained by that young woman, but you assured me you had not. That it true, isn't it?"
"Have I acted like someone who was half-sated to begin with?"
"No, you did not," and her laughter boomed.
"Are you still thinking of Psychic Probes?"
She laughed again. "Are you mad? Would I want to lose you now?"
"Yet it would be better if you lost me temporarily-"
"What!" She frowned.
"If I were to stay here permanently, my-my dear, how long would it be before eyes would begin to watch, and mouths would begin to whisper? It I went off on my mission, however, I would naturally return periodically to, report, and it would then be only natural that we should be closeted together for a while-and my mission is important."
She thought about that, scratching idly at her right hip. Then she said, "I suppose you're right. I hate the thought but-I suppose you're right."
"And you need not think I would not come back," said Trevize. "I am not so witless as to forget what I would have waiting for me here."
She smiled at him, touched his cheek gently, and said, looking into his eyes, “Did you find it pleasant, love?"
"Much more than pleasant, dear."
"Yet you are a Foundationer. A man in the prime of youth from Terminus itself. You must be accustomed to all sorts of women with all soul skills-"**
"I have encountered nothing-nothing-in the least like you," said Trevize, with a forcefulness that came easily to someone who was but telling the truth, after all.
Lizalor said complacently, "Well, if you say so. Still, old habits die hard, you know, and I don't think I could bring myself to trust a man's word without some sort of surety. You and your friend, Pelorat, might conceivably go on this mission of yours once I hear about it and approve, but I will keep the young woman here. She will be well treated, never fear, but I presume your Dr. Pelorat will want her, and he will see to it that there are frequent returns to Comporellon, even if your enthusiasm for this mission you to stay away too long."
"But, Lizalor, that's impossible."
"Indeed?" Suspicion at once seeped into her eyes. "Why impossible? For what purpose would you need the woman?"
"Not for sex. I told you that, and I told you truthfully. She is Pelorat's and I have no interest in her. Besides, I'm sure she'd break in two if she attempted what you so triumphantly carried through."
Lizalor almost smiled, but repressed it and said severely, "What is it to you, then, if she remains on Comporellon?"
"Because she is of essential importance to our mission. That is why we must have her."
"Well, then, what is your mission? It is time you told me."
Trevize hesitated very briefly. It would have to be the truth. He could think of no lie as effective.
"Listen to me," he said. "Comporellon may be an old world, even among the oldest, but it can't be the oldest. Human life did not originate here. The earliest human beings reached here from some other world, and perhaps human life didn't originate there either, but came from still another and still older world. Eventually, though, those probings back into time must stop, and we must reach the first world, the world of human origins. I am seeking Earth."
The change that suddenly came over Mitza Lizalor staggered him.
Her eyes had widened, her breathing took on a sudden urgency, and every muscle seemed to stiffen as she lay there in bed. Her arms shot upward rigidly, and the first two fingers of both hands crossed.
"You named it," she whispered hoarsely.
SHE DIDN'T say anything after that; she didn't look at him. Her arms slowly came down, her legs swung over the side of the bed, and she sat up, back to him. Trevize lay where he was, frozen.
He could hear, in memory, the words of Munn Li Compor, as they stood there in the empty tourist center at Sayshell. He could hear him saying of his own ancestral planet-the one that Trevize was on now-"They're superstitious about it. Every time they mention the word, they lift up both hands with first and second fingers crossed to ward off misfortune."
How useless to remember after the fact.
"What should I have said, Mitza?" he muttered.
She shook her head slightly, stood up, stalked toward and then through a door. It closed behind her and, after a moment, there was the sound of water running.
He had no recourse but to wait, bare, undignified, wondering whether to join her in the shower, and then quite certain he had better not. And because, in a way, he felt the shower denied him, he at once experienced a growing need for one.
She emerged at last and silently began to select clothing.
He said, "Do you mind if I-"
She said nothing, and he took silence for consent. He tried to stride into the room in a strong and masculine way but he felt uncommonly as he had in those days when his mother, offended by some misbehavior on his part, offered him no punishment but silence, causing him to shrivel in discomfort.
He looked about inside the smoothly walled cubicle that was bare-completely bare. He looked more minutely. There was nothing.
He opened the door again, thrust his head out, and said, "Listen, how are you supposed to start the shower?"
She put down the deodorant (at least, Trevize guessed that was its function), strode to the shower-room and, still without looking at him, pointed. Trevize followed the finger and noted a spot on the wall that was round and faintly pink, barely colored, as though the designer resented having to spoil the starkness of the white, for no reason more important than to give a hint of function.
Trevize shrugged lightly, leaned toward the wall, and touched the spot. Presumably that was what one had to do, for in a moment a deluge of fine-sprayed water struck him from every direction. Gasping, he touched the spot again and it stopped.
He opened the door, knowing he looked several degrees more undignified still as he shivered hard enough to make it difficult to articulate words. He croaked, "How do you get hot water?"
Now she looked at him and, apparently, his appearance overcame her anger (or fear, or whatever emotion was victimizing her) for she snickered and then, without warning, boomed her laughter at him.
"What hot water?" she said. "Do you think we're going to waste the energy to heat water for washing? That's good mild water you had, water with the chill taken off. What more do you want? You sludge-soft Terminians! Get back in there and wash!"
Trevize hesitated, but not for long, since it was clear he had no choice in the matter.
With remarkable reluctance he touched the pink spot again and this time steeled his body for the icy spray. Mild water? He found suds forming on his body and he rubbed hastily here, there, everywhere, judging it to be the wash cycle and suspecting it would not last long.
Then came the rinse cycle. Ah, warm-Well, perhaps not warm, but not quite as cold, and definitely feeling warm to his thoroughly chilled body. Then, even as he was considering touching the contact spot again to stop the water, and was wondering how Lizalor had come out dry when there was absolutely no towel or towel-substitute in the place-the water stopped. It was followed by a blast of air that would have certainly bowled him over if it had not come from various directions equally.
It was hot; almost too hot. It took far less energy, Trevize knew, to heat air than to heat water. The hot air steamed the water off him and, in a few minutes, he was able to step out as dry as though he had never encountered water in his life.
Lizalor seemed to have recovered completely. "Do you feel well?"
"Pretty well," said Trevize. Actually, he felt astonishingly comfortable. "All I had to do was prepare myself for the temperature. You didn't tell me-"
"Sludge-soft," said Lizalor, with mild contempt.
He borrowed her deodorant, then began to dress, conscious of the fact that she had fresh underwear and he did not. He said, "What should I have called-that world?"
She said, "We refer to it as the Oldest."
He said, "How was I to know the name I used was forbidden? Did you tell me?"
"Did you ask?"
"How was I to know to ask?"
"You know now."
"I'm bound to forget."
"You had better not."
"What's the difference?" Trevize felt his temper rising. "It's just a word, a sound."
Lizalor said darkly, "There are words one doesn't say. Do you say every word you know under all circumstances?"
"Some words are vulgar, some are inappropriate, some under particular circumstances would be hurtful. Which is-that word I used?"
Lizalor said, "It's a sad word, a solemn word. It represents a world that was ancestor to us all and that now doesn't exist. It's tragic, and we feel it because it was near to us. We prefer not to speak of it or, if we must, not to use its name."
"And the crossing of fingers at me? How does that relieve the hurt and sadness?"
Lizalor's face flushed. "That was an automatic reaction, and I don't thank you for forcing it on me. There are people who believe that the word, even the thought, brings on misfortune-and that is how they ward it off."
"Do you, too, believe crossing fingers wards off misfortune?"
"No. Well, yes, in a way. It makes me uneasy if I don't do it." She didn't look at him. Then, as though eager to shift the subject, she said quickly, "And how is that black-haired woman of yours of the essence with respect to your mission to reach-that world you mentioned."
"Say 'the Oldest.' Or would you rather not even say that?"
"I would rather not discuss it at all, but I asked you a question."
"I believe that her people reached their present world as emigrants from the Oldest."
"As we did," said Lizalor proudly.
"But her people have traditions of some sort which she says are the key to understanding the Oldest, but only if we reach it and can study its records."
"She is lying."
"Perhaps, but we must check it out."
"If you have this woman with her problematical knowledge, and if you want to reach the Oldest with her, why did you come to Comporellon?"
"To find the location of the Oldest. I had a friend once, who, like myself, was a Foundationer. He, however, was descended from Comporellian ancestors and he assured me that much of the history of the Oldest was well known, on Comporellon."
"Did he indeed? And did he tell you any of its history?"
"Yes," said Trevize, reaching for the truth again. "He said that the Oldest was a dead world, entirely radioactive. He did not know why, but he thought that it might be the result of nuclear explosions. In a war, perhaps."
"No!" said Lizalor explosively.
"No, there was no war? Or no, the Oldest is not radioactive?"
"It is radioactive, but there was no war."
"Then how did it become radioactive? It could not have been radioactive to begin with since human life began on the Oldest. There would have been n0 life on it ever."
Lizalor seemed to hesitate. She stood erect, and was breathing deeply, almost gasping. She said, "It was a punishment. It was a world that used robots. Do you know what robots are?"
"Yes."
"They had robots and for that they were punished. Every world that has had robots has been punished and no longer exists."
"Who punished them, Lizalor?"
"He Who Punishes. The forces of history. I don't know." She looked away from him, uncomfortable, then said, in a lower voice, "Ask others."
"I would like to, but whom do I ask? Are there those on Comporellon who have studied primeval history?"
"There are. They are not popular with us-with the average Comporellian-but the Foundation, your Foundation, insists on intellectual freedom, they call it."
"Not a bad insistence, in my opinion," said Trevize.
"All is bad that is imposed from without," said Lizalor.
Trevize shrugged. There was no purpose in arguing the matter. He said,** "My friend, Dr. Pelorat, is himself a primeval historian of a sort. He would, I’m sure, like to meet his Comporellian colleagues. Can you arrange that, Lizalor?"
She nodded. "There is a historian named Vasil Deniador, who is based at the University here in the city. He does not teach class, but he may be able to tell you what you want to know."
"Why doesn't he teach class?"
"It's not that he is forbidden; it's just that students do not elect his course."
"I presume," said Trevize, trying not to say it sardonically, "that the students are encouraged not to elect it."
"Why should they want to? He is a Skeptic. We have them, you know. There are always individuals who pit their minds against the general modes of thought and who are arrogant enough to feel that they alone are right and that the many are wrong."
"Might it not be that that could actually be so in some cases?"
"Never!" snapped Lizalor, with a firmness of belief that made it quite clear that no further discussion in that direction would be of any use. "And for all his Skepticism, he will be forced to tell you exactly what any Comporellian would tell you."
"And that is?"
"That if you search for the Oldest, you will not find it."
IN THE PRIVATE quarters assigned them, Pelorat listened to Trevize thoughtfully, his long solemn face expressionless, then said, "Vasil Deniador? I do not recall having heard of him, but it may be that back on the ship I will find papers by him in my library."
"Are you sure you haven't heard of him? Think!" said Trevize.
"I don't recall, at the moment, having heard of him," said Pelorat cautiously, "but after all, my dear chap, there must be hundreds of estimable scholars I haven't heard of; or have, but can't remember."
"Still, he can't be first-class, or you would have heard of him."
"The study of Earth-"
"Practice saying 'the Oldest,' Janov. It would complicate matters otherwise."
"The study of the Oldest," said Pelorat, "is not a well-rewarded niche in the corridors of learning, so that first-class scholars, even in the field of primeval history, would not tend to find their way there. Or, if we put it the other way around, those who are already there do not make enough of a name for themselves in an uninterested world to be considered first-class, even if they were. I am not first-class in anyone's estimation, I am sure."
Bliss said tenderly, "In mine, Pel."
"Yes, certainly in yours, my dear," said Pelorat, smiling slightly, "but you are not judging me in my capacity as scholar."
It was almost night now, going by the clock, and Trevize felt himself grow slightly impatient, as he always did when Bliss and Pelorat traded endearments.
He said, "I'll try to arrange our seeing this Deniador tomorrow, but if he knows as little about the matter as the Minister does, we're not going to be much better off than we are now."
Pelorat said, "He may be able to lead us to someone more useful."
"I doubt it. This world's attitude toward Earth-but I had better practice speaking of it elliptically, too. This world's attitude toward the Oldest is a foolish and superstitious one." He turned away. "But it's been a rough day and we ought to think of an evening meal-if we can face their uninspired cookery-and then begin thinking of getting some sleep. Have you two learned how to use the shower?"
"My dear fellow," said Pelorat, "we have been very kindly treated. We've received all sorts of instructions, most of which we didn't need."
Bliss said, "Listen, Trevize. What about the ship?"
"What about it?"
"Is the Comporellian government confiscating it?"
"No. I don't think they will."
"Ah. Very pleasant. Why aren't they?"
"Because I persuaded the Minister to change her mind."
Pelorat said, "Astonishing. She didn't seem a particularly persuadable individual to me."
Bliss said, "I don't know. It was clear from the texture of her mind that she was attracted to Trevize."
Trevize looked at Bliss with sudden exasperation. "Did you do that, Bliss?"
"What do you mean, Trevize?"
"I mean tamper with her-"
"I didn't tamper. However, when I noted that she was attracted to you, I couldn't resist just snapping an inhibition or two. It was a very small thing to do. Those inhibitions might have snapped anyway, and it seemed to be important to make certain that she was filled with good will toward you."
"Good will? It was more than that! She softened, yes, but post-coitally."
Pelorat said, "Surely you don't mean, old man-"
"Why not?" said Trevize testily. "She may be past her first youth, but she knew the art well. She was no beginner, I assure you. Nor will I play the gentleman and lie on her behalf. It was her idea-thanks to Bliss's fiddling with her inhibitions-and I was not in a position to refuse, even if that thought had occurred to me, which it didn't. **Come, Janov, don't stand there looking puritanical. It's been months since I've had an opportunity. You've-" And he waved his hand vaguely in Bliss's direction.
"Believe me, Golan," said Pelorat, embarrassed, "if you are interpreting my expression as puritanical, you mistake me. I have no objection."
Bliss said, "But she is puritanical. I meant to make her warm toward you; I did not count on a sexual paroxysm."
Trevize said, "But that is exactly what you brought on, my little interfering Bliss. It may be necessary for the Minister to play the puritan in public, but if so, that seems merely to stoke the fires."
"And so, provided you scratch the itch, she will betray the Foundation-"
"She would have done that in any case," said Trevize. "She wanted the ship-" He broke off, and said in a whisper, "Are we being overheard?"
Bliss said, "No!"
"Are you sure?"
"It is certain. It is impossible to impinge upon the mind of Gaia in any unauthorized fashion without Gaia being aware of it."
"In that case, Comporellon wants the ship for itself-a valuable addition to its fleet."
"Surely, the Foundation would not allow that."
"Comporellon does not intend to have the Foundation know."
Bliss sighed. "There are your Isolates. The Minister intends to betray the Foundation on behalf of Comporellon and, in return for sex, will promptly betray Comporellon, too. And as for Trevize, he will gladly sell his body's services as a way of inducing the betrayal. What anarchy there is in this Galaxy of yours. What chaos."
Trevize said coldly, "You are wrong, young woman-”
"In what I have just said, I am not a young woman, I am Gaia. I am all of Gaia."
"Then you are wrong, Gaia I did not sell my body's services. I gave them gladly. I enjoyed it and did no one harm. As for the consequences, they turned out well from my standpoint and I accept that. And if Comporellon wants the ship for its own purposes, who is to say who is right in this matter? It is a Foundation ship, but it was given to me to search for Earth. It is mine then until I complete the search and I feel that the Foundation has no right to go back on its agreement. As for Comporellon, it does not enjoy Foundation domination, so it dreams of independence. In its own eyes, it is correct to do so and to deceive the Foundation, for that is not an act of treason to them but an act of patriotism. Who knows?"
"Exactly. Who knows? In a Galaxy of anarchy, how is it possible to sort out reasonable actions from unreasonable ones? How decide between right and wrong, good and evil, justice and crime, useful and useless? And how do you explain the Minister's betrayal of her own government, when she lets you keep the ship? Does she long for personal independence from an oppressive world? Is she a traitor or a personal one-woman self-patriot?"
"To be truthful," said Trevize, "I don't know that she was willing to let me have my ship simply because she was grateful to me for the pleasure I gave: her. I believe she made that decision only when I told her I was searching for the Oldest. It is a world of ill-omen to her and we and the ship that carries us, by searching for it, have become ill-omened, too. It is my feeling that she feels she incurred the ill-omen for herself and her world by attempting to take the ship, which she may, by now, be viewing with horror. Perhaps she feels that by allowing us and our ship to leave and go about our business, she is averting the misfortune from Comporellon and is, in that way, performing a patriotic act."
"If that were so, which I doubt, Trevize, superstition is the spring of the action. Do you admire that?"
"I neither admire nor condemn. Superstition always directs action in the absence of knowledge. The Foundation believes in the Seldon Plan, though no one in our realm can understand it, interpret its details, or use it to predict. We follow blindly out of ignorance and faith, and isn't that superstition?"
"Yes, it might be."
"And Gaia, too. You believe I have given the correct decision in judging that Gaia should absorb the Galaxy into one large organism, but you do not know why I should be right, or how safe it would be for you to follow that decision. You are willing to go along only out of ignorance and faith, and are even annoyed with me for trying to find evidence that will remove the ignorance and make mere faith unnecessary. Isn't that superstition?"
"I think he has you there, Bliss," said Pelorat.
Bliss said, "Not so. He will either find nothing at all in this search, or he will find something that confirms his decision."
Trevize said, "And to back up that belief, you have only ignorance and faith. In other words, superstition!"
VASIL DENIADOR was a small man, little of feature, with a way of looking up by raising his eyes without raising his head. This, combined with the brief smiles that periodically lit his face, gave him the appearance of laughing silently at the world.
His office was long and narrow, filled with tapes that seemed to be in wild disorder, not because there was any definite evidence for that, but because they were not evenly placed in their recesses so that they gave the shelves a snaggle-toothed appearance. The three seats he indicated for his visitors were not matched and showed signs of having been recently, and imperfectly, dusted.
He said, "Janov Pelorat, Golan Trevize, and Bliss. I do not have your second name, madam."
"Bliss," she said, "is all I am usually called," and sat down.
"It is enough after all," said Deniador, twinkling at her. "You are attractive enough to be forgiven if you had no name at all."
All were sitting now. Deniador said, "I have heard of you, Dr. Pelorat, though we have never corresponded. You are a Foundationer, are you not? From Terminus?"
"Yes, Dr. Deniador."
"And you, Councilman Trevize. I seem to have heard that recently you were expelled from the Council and exiled. I don't think I have ever understood why."
"Not expelled, sir. I am still a member of the Council although I don't know when I will take up my duties again. Nor exiled, quite. I was assigned a mission, concerning which we wish to consult you."
"Happy to try to help," said Deniador. "And the blissful lady? Is she from Terminus, too."
Trevize interposed quickly. "She is from elsewhere, Doctor."
"Ah, a strange world, this Elsewhere. A most unusual collection of human beings are native to it. But since two of you are from the Foundation's capital at Terminus, and the third is an attractive young woman, and Mitza Lizalor is not known for her affection for either category, how is it that she recommends you to my care so warmly?"
"I think," said Trevize, "to get rid of us. The sooner you help us, you see, the sooner we will leave Comporellon."
Deniador eyed Trevize with interest (again the twinkling smile) and said, "Of course, a vigorous young man such as yourself might attract her whatever his origin. She plays the role of cold vestal well, but not perfectly."
"I know nothing about that," said Trevize stiffly.
"And you had better not. In public, at least. But I am a Skeptic and I am professionally unattuned to believing in surfaces. So come, Councilman, what is your mission? Let me find out if I can help you."
Trevize said, "In this, Dr. Pelorat is our spokesman."
"I have no objection to that," said Deniador. "Dr. Pelorat?"
Pelorat said, "To put it at the simplest, dear Doctor, I have all my mature life attempted to penetrate to the basic core of knowledge concerning the world on which the human species originated, and I was sent out along with my good friend, Golan Trevize-although, to be sure, I did not know him at the time-to find, if we could, the-uh-Oldest, I believe you call it."
"The Oldest?" said Deniador. "I take it you mean Earth."
Pelorat's jaw dropped. Then he said, with a slight stutter, "I was under the impression-that is, I was given to understand-that one did not-"
He looked at Trevize, rather helplessly.
Trevize said, "Minister Lizalor told me that that word was not used on Comporellon."
"You mean she did this?" Deniador's mouth turned downward, his nose screwed up, and he thrust his arms vigorously forward, crossing the first two fingers on each hand.
"Yes," said Trevize. "That's what I mean."
Deniador relaxed and laughed. "Nonsense, gentlemen. We do it as a matter of habit, and in the backwoods they may be serious about it but, on the whole, it doesn't matter. I don't know any Comporellian who wouldn't say 'Earth' when annoyed or startled. It's the most common vulgarism we have."
"Vulgarism?" said Pelorat faintly.
"Or expletive, if you prefer."
"Nevertheless," said Trevize, "the Minister seemed quite upset when I used the word."
"Oh well, she's a mountain woman."
"What does that mean, sir?"
"What it says. Mitza Lizalor is from the Central Mountain Range. The children out there are brought up in what is called the good old-fashioned way, which means that no matter how well educated they become you can never knock those crossed fingers out of them."
"Then the word 'Earth' doesn't bother you at all, does it, Doctor?" said Bliss.
"Not at all, dear lady. I am a Skeptic."
Trevize said, "I know what the word 'skeptic' means in Galactic, but how. do you use the word?"
"Exactly as you do, Councilman. I accept only what I am forced to accept by reasonably reliable evidence, and keep that acceptance tentative pending the arrival of further evidence. That doesn't make us popular."
"Why not?" said Trevize.
"We wouldn't be popular anywhere. Where is the world whose people don't prefer a comfortable, warm, and well-worn belief, however illogical, to the chilly winds of uncertainty? Consider how you believe in the Seldon Plan without evidence."
"Yes," said Trevize, studying his finger ends. "I put that forward yesterday as an example, too."
Pelorat said, "May I return to the subject, old fellow? What is known about Earth that a Skeptic would accept?"
Deniador said, "Very little. We can assume that there is a single planet on which the human species developed, because it is unlikely in the extreme that the same species, so nearly identical as to be interfertile, would develop on a number of worlds, or even on just two, independently. We can choose to call this world of origin Earth. The belief is general, here, that Earth exists in this corner of the Galaxy, for the worlds here are unusually old and it is likely that the first worlds to be settled were close to Earth rather than far from it."
"And has the Earth any unique characteristics aside from being the planet of origin?" asked Pelorat eagerly.
"Do you have something in mind?" said Deniador, with his quick smile.
"I'm thinking of its satellite, which some call the moon. That would be unusual, wouldn't it?"
"That's a leading question, Dr. Pelorat. You may be putting thoughts into my mind."
"I do not say what it is that would make the moon unusual."
"Its size, of course. Am I right? Yes, I see I am. All the legends of Earth speak of its vast array of living species and of its vast satellite-one that is some three thousand to three thousand five hundred kilometers in diameter. The vast array of life is easy to accept since it would naturally have come about through biological evolution, if what we know of the process is accurate. A giant satellite is more difficult to accept. No other inhabited world in the Galaxy has such a satellite. Large satellites are invariably associated with the uninhabited and uninhabitable gas-giants. As a Skeptic, then, I prefer not to accept the existence of the moon."
Pelorat said, "If Earth is unique in its possession of millions of species, might it not also be unique in its possession of a giant satellite? One uniqueness might imply the other."
Deniador smiled. "I don't see how the presence of millions of species on Earth could create a giant satellite out of nothing."
"But the other way around- Perhaps a giant satellite could help create the millions of species."
"I don't see how that could be either."
Trevize said, "What about the story of Earth's radioactivity?"
"That is universally told; universally believed."
"But," said Trevize, "Earth could not have been so radioactive as to preclude life in the billions of years when it supported life. How did it become radioactive? A nuclear war?"
"That is the most common opinion, Councilman Trevize."
"From the manner in which you say that, I gather you don't believe it."
"There is no evidence that such a war took place. Common belief, even universal belief, is not, in itself, evidence."
"What else might have happened?"
"There is no evidence that anything happened. The radioactivity might be as purely invented a legend as the large satellite."
Pelorat said, "What is the generally accepted story of Earth's history? I have, during my professional career, collected a large number of origin-legends, many of them involving a world called Earth, or some name very much like that. I have none from Comporellon, nothing beyond the vague mention of a Benbally who might have come from nowhere for all that Comporellian legends say."
"That's not surprising. We don't usually export our legends and I'm astonished you have found references even to Benbally. Superstition, again."
"But you are not superstitious and you would not hesitate to talk about it, would you?"
"That's correct," said the small historian, casting his eyes upward at Pelorat. "It would certainly add greatly, perhaps even dangerously, to my unpopularity if I did, but you three are leaving Comporellon soon and I take it you will never quote me as a source."
"You have our word of honor," said Pelorat quickly.
"Then here is a summary of what is supposed to have happened, shorn of any supernaturalism or moralizing. Earth existed as the sole world of human beings for an immeasurable period and then, about twenty to twenty-five thousand years ago, the human species developed interstellar travel by way of the hyperspatial Jump and colonized a group of planets.
"The Settlers on these planets made use of robots, which had first been devised on Earth before the days of hyperspatial travel and-do you know what robots are, by the way?"
"Yes," said Trevize. "We have been asked that more than once. We know what robots are."
"The Settlers, with a thoroughly roboticized society, developed a high technology and unusual longevity and despised their ancestral world. According to more dramatic versions of their story, they dominated and oppressed the ancestral world.
"Eventually, then, Earth sent out a new group of Settlers, among whom robots were forbidden. Of the new worlds, Comporellon was among the first. Our own patriots insist it was the first, but there is no evidence of that that a Skeptic can accept. The first group of Settlers died out, and-"
Trevize said, "Why did the first set die out, Dr. Deniador?"
"Why? Usually they are imagined by our romantics as having been punished for their crimes by He Who Punishes, though no one bothers to say why He waited so long. But one doesn't have to resort to fairy tales. It is easy to argue that a society that depends totally on robots becomes soft and decadent, dwindling and dying out of sheer boredom or, more subtly, by losing the will to live.
"The second wave of Settlers, without robots, lived on and took over the entire Galaxy, but Earth grew radioactive and slowly dropped out of sight. The reason usually given for this is that there were robots on Earth, too, since the first wave had encouraged that."
Bliss, who had listened to the account with some visible impatience, said, "Well, Dr. Deniador, radioactivity or not, and however many waves of settlers there might have been, the crucial question is a simple one. Exactly where is Earth? What are its co-ordinates?"
Deniador said, "The answer to that question is: I don't know. But come, it is time for lunch. I can have one brought in, and we can discuss Earth over it for as long as you want."
"You don't know?" said Trevize, the sound of his voice rising in pitch and intensity.
"Actually, as far as I know, no one knows."
"But that is impossible."
"Councilman," said Deniador, with a soft sigh, "if you wish to call the truth impossible, that is your privilege, but it will get you nowhere."
LUNCHEON consisted of a heap of soft, crusty balls that came in different shades and that contained a variety of fillings.
Deniador picked up a small object which unfolded into a pair of thin, transparent gloves, and put them on. His guests followed suit.
Bliss said, "What is inside these objects, please?"
Deniador said, "The pink ones are filled with spicy chopped fish, a great Comporellian delicacy. These yellow ones contain a cheese filling that is very mild. The green ones contain a vegetable mixture. Do eat them while they are a quite warm. Later we will have hot almond pie and the usual beverages. I might recommend the hot cider. In a cold climate, we have a tendency to heat our foods, even desserts."
"You do yourself well," said Pelorat.
"Not really," said Deniador. "I'm being hospitable to guests. For myself, I get along on very little. I don't have much body mass to support, as you have probably noticed."
Trevize bit into one of the pink ones and found it very fishy indeed, with all overlay of spices that was pleasant to the taste but which, he thought, along with the fish itself, would remain with him for the rest of the day and, perhaps, into the night.
When he withdrew the object with the bite taken out of it, he found that the crust had closed in over the contents. There was no squirt, no leakage, and, for a moment, he wondered at the purpose of the gloves. These seemed no chance of getting his hands moist and sticky if he didn't use them, so he decided it was a matter of hygiene. The gloves substituted for a washing of the hands if that were inconvenient and custom, probably, now dictated their use even if the hands were washed. (Lizalor hadn't used gloves when he had eaten with her the day before. Perhaps that was because she was a mountain woman.)
He said, "Would it be unmannerly to talk business over lunch?"
"By Comporellian standards, Councilman, it would be, but you are my guests, and we will go by your standards. If you wish to speak seriously, and do not think-or care-that that might diminish your pleasure in the food, please do so, and I will join you."
Trevize said, "Thank you. Minister Lizalor implied-no, she stated quite bluntly-that Skeptics were unpopular on this world. Is that so?"
Deniador's good humor seemed to intensify. "Certainly. How hurt we'd be if we weren't. Comporellon, you see, is a frustrated world. Without any knowledge of the details, there is the general mythic belief, that once, many millennia ago, when the inhabited Galaxy was small, Comporellon was the leading world. We never forget that, and the fact that in known history we have not been leaders irks us, fills us-the population in general, that is-with a feeling of injustice.
"Yet what can we do? The government was forced to be a loyal vassal of the Emperor once, and is a loyal Associate of the Foundation now. And the more we are made aware of our subordinate position, the stronger the belief in the great, mysterious days of the past become.
"What, then, can Comporellon do? They could never defy the Empire in older times and they can't openly defy the Foundation now. They take refuge, therefore, in attacking and hating us, since we don't believe the legends and laugh at the superstitions.
"Nevertheless, we are safe from the grosser effects of persecution. We control the technology, and we fill the faculties of the Universities. Some of us, who are particularly outspoken, have difficulty in teaching classes openly. I have that difficulty, for instance, though I have my students and hold meetings quietly off-campus. Nevertheless, if we were really driven out of public life, the technology would fail and the Universities would lose accreditation with the Galaxy generally. Presumably, such is the folly of human beings, the prospects of intellectual suicide might not stop them from indulging their hatred, but the Foundation supports us. Therefore, we are constantly scolded and sneered at and denounced-and never touched."
Trevize said, "Is it popular opposition that keeps you from telling us where Earth is? Do you fear that, despite everything, the anti-Skeptic feeling might turn ugly if you go too far?"
Deniador shook his head. "No. Earth's location is unknown. I am not hiding anything from you out of fear-or for any other reason."
"But look," said Trevize urgently. "There are a limited number of planets in this sector of the Galaxy that possess the physical characteristics associated with habitability, and almost all of them must be not only inhabitable, but inhabited, and therefore well known to you. How difficult would it be to explore the sector for a planet that would be habitable were it not for the fact that it was radioactive? Besides that, you would look for such a planet with a large, satellite in attendance. Between radioactivity and a large satellite, Earth would be absolutely unmistakable and could not be missed even with only a casual search. It might take some time but that would be the only difficulty."
Deniador said, "The Skeptic's view is, of course, that Earth's radioactivity and its large satellite are both simply legends. If we look for them, we look for sparrow-milk and rabbit-feathers."
"Perhaps, but that shouldn't stop Comporellon from at least taking on the search. If they find a radioactive world of the proper size for habitability, with a large satellite, what an appearance of credibility it would lend to Comporellian legendry in general."
Deniador laughed. "It may be that Comporellon doesn't search for that very reason. If we fail, or if we find an Earth obviously different from the legends, the reverse would take place. Comporellian legendry in general would be blasted and made into a laughingstock. Comporellon wouldn't risk that."
Trevize paused, then went on, very earnestly, "Besides, even if we discount those two uniquities-if there is such a word in Galactic-of radioactivity and a large satellite, there is a third that, by definition, must exist, without any reference to legends. Earth must have upon it either a flourishing life of incredible diversity, or the remnants of one, or, at the very least, the fossil record of such a one."
Deniador said, "Councilman, while Comporellon has sent out no organized search party for Earth, we do have occasion to travel through space, and we occasionally have reports from ships that have strayed from their intended routes for one reason or another. Jumps are not always perfect, as perhaps you know. Nevertheless, there have been no reports of any planets with properties resembling those of the legendary Earth, or any planet that is bursting with life. Nor is any ship likely to land on what seems an uninhabited planet in order that the crew might go fossil-hunting. If, then, in thousands of years nothing of the sort has been reported, I am perfectly willing to believe that locating Earth is impossible, because Earth is not there to be located."
Trevize said, in frustration, "But Earth must be somewhere. Somewhere there is a planet on which humanity and all the familiar forms of life associated with humanity evolved. If Earth is not in this section of the Galaxy, it must be elsewhere."
"Perhaps," said Deniador cold-bloodedly, "but in all this time, it hasn't turned up anywhere."
"People haven't really looked for it."
"Well, apparently you are. I wish you luck, but I would never bet on your success."
Trevize said, "Have there been attempts to determine the possible position of Earth by indirect means, by some means other than a direct search?"
"Yes," said two voices at once. Deniador, who was the owner of one of the voices, said to Pelorat, "Are you thinking of Yariffs project?"
"I am," said Pelorat.
"Then would you explain it to the Councilman? I think he would more readily believe you than me."
Pelorat said, "You see, Golan, in the last days of the Empire, there was a time when the Search for Origins, as they called it, was a popular pastime, perhaps to get away from the unpleasantness of the surrounding reality. The Empire was in a process of disintegration at that time, you know.
"It occurred to a Livian historian, Humbal Yariff, that whatever the planet of origin, it would have settled worlds near itself sooner than it would settle planets farther away. In general, the farther a world from the point of origin the later it would have been settled.
"Suppose, then, one recorded the date of settlement of all habitable planets in the Galaxy, and made networks of all that were a given number of Millennia old. There could be a network drawn through all planets ten thousand years old; another through those twelve thousand years old, still another through those fifteen thousand years old. Each network would, in theory, be roughly spherical and they should be roughly concentric. The older networks would form spheres smaller in radius than the younger ones, and if one worked out all the centers they should fall within a comparatively small volume of space that would include the planet of origin-Earth."
Pelorat's face was very earnest as he kept drawing spherical surfaces with his cupped hands. "Do you see my point, Golan?"
Trevize nodded. "Yes. But I take it that it didn't work."
"Theoretically, it should have, old fellow. One trouble was that times of origin were totally inaccurate. Every world exaggerated its own age to one degree or another and there was no easy way of determining age independently of legend."
Bliss said, "Carbon-14 decay in ancient timber."
"Certainly, dear," said Pelorat, "but you would have had to get co-operation from the worlds in question, and that was never given. No world wanted its own exaggerated claim of age to be destroyed and the Empire was then in no position to override local objections in a matter so unimportant. It had other things on its mind.
"All that Yariff could do was to make use of worlds that were only two thousand years old at most, and whose founding had been meticulously recorded under reliable circumstances. There were few of those, and while they were distributed in roughly spherical symmetry, the center was relatively close to Trantor, the Imperial capital, because that was where the colonizing expeditions had originated for those relatively few worlds.
"That, of course, was another problem. Earth was not the only point of origin of settlement for other worlds. As time went on, the older worlds sent out settlement expeditions of their own, and at the time of the height of Empire, Trantor was a rather copious source of those. Yariff was, rather unfairly, laughed at and ridiculed and his professional reputation was destroyed."
Trevize said, "I get the story, Janov. Dr. Deniador, is there then nothing at all you could give me that represents the faintest possibility of hope? Is there any other world where it is conceivable there may be some information concerning Earth?"
Deniador sank into doubtful thought for a while. "We-e-ell," he said at last, drawing out the word hesitantly, "as a Skeptic I must tell you that I'm not sure that Earth exists, or has ever existed. However-" He fell silent again.
Finally, Bliss said, "I think you've thought of something that might be important, Doctor."
"Important? I doubt it," said Deniador faintly. "Perhaps amusing, however. Earth is not the only planet whose position is a mystery. There are the worlds of the first group of Settlers; the Spacers, as they are called in our legends. Some call the planets they inhabited the 'Spacer worlds'; others call them the 'Forbidden Worlds.' The latter name is now the usual one.
"In their pride and prime, the legend goes, the Spacers had lifetimes stretching out for centuries, and refused to allow our own short-lived ancestors to land on their worlds. After we had defeated them, the situation was reversed. We scorned to deal with them and left them to themselves, forbidding our own ships and Traders to deal with them. Hence those planets became the Forbidden Worlds. We were certain, so the legend states, that He Who Punishes would destroy them without our intervention, and, apparently, He did. At least, no Spacer has appeared in the Galaxy to our knowledge, in many millennia."
"Do you think that the Spacers would know about Earth?" said Trevize.
"Conceivably, since their worlds were older than any of ours. That is, if any Spacers exist, which is extremely unlikely."
"Even if they don't exist, their worlds do and may contain records."
"If you can find the worlds."
Trevize looked exasperated. "Do you mean to say that the key to Earth, the location of which is unknown, may be found on Spacer worlds, the location of which is also unknown?"
Deniador shrugged. "We have had no dealings with them for twenty thousand years. No thought of them. They, too, like Earth, have receded into the mists."
"How many worlds did the Spacers live on?"
"The legends speak of fifty such worlds-a suspiciously round number. There were probably far fewer."
"And you don't know the location of a single one of the fifty?"
"Well, now, I wonder-"
"What do you wonder?"
Deniador said, "Since primeval history is my hobby, as it is Dr. Pelorat's, I have occasionally explored old documents in search of anything that might refer to early time; something more than legends. Last year, I came upon the records of an old ship, records that were almost indecipherable. It dated back to the very old days when our world was not yet known as Comporellon. The name 'Baleyworld' was used, which, it seems to me, may be an even earlier form of the 'Benbally world' of our legends."
Pelorat said, excitedly, "Have you published?"
"No," said Deniador. "I do not wish to dive until I am sure there is water in the swimming pool, as the old saying has it. You see, the record says that the captain of the ship had visited a Spacer world and taken off with him a Spacer woman."
Bliss said, "But you said that the Spacers did not allow visitors."
"Exactly, and that is the reason I don't publish the material. It sounds incredible. There are vague tales that could be interpreted as referring to the Spacers and to their conflict with the Settlers-our own ancestors. Such tales exist not only on Comporellon but on many worlds in many variations, but all are in absolute accord in one respect. The two groups, Spacers and Settlers, did not mingle. There was no social contact, let alone sexual contact, and yet apparently the Settler captain and the Spacer woman were held together by bonds of love. This is so incredible that I see no chance of the story being accepted as anything but, at best, a piece of romantic historical fiction."
Trevize looked disappointed. "Is that all?"
"No, Councilman, there is one more matter. I came across some figures in what was left of the log of the ship that might-or might not-represent spatial co-ordinates. If they were-and I repeat, since my Skeptic's honor compels me to, that they might not be-then internal evidence made me conclude they were the spatial co-ordinates of three of the Spacer worlds. One of them might be the Spacer world where the captain landed and from which he withdrew his Spacer love."
Trevize said, "Might it not be that even if the tale is fiction, the coordinates are real?"
"It might be," said Deniador. "I will give you the figures, and you are free to use them, but you might get nowhere. And yet I have an amusing notion." His quick smile made its appearance.
"What is that?" said Trevize.
"What if one of those sets of co-ordinates represented Earth?"
COMPORELLON'S sun, distinctly orange, was larger in appearance than the sun of Terminus, but it was low in the sky and gave out little heat. The wind, fortunately light, touched Trevize's cheek with icy fingers.
He shivered inside the electrified coat he had been given by Mitza Lizalor, who now stood next to him. He said, "It must warm up sometime, Mitza."
She glanced up at the sun briefly, and stood there in the emptiness of the spaceport, showing no signs of discomfort-tall, large, wearing a lighter coat than Trevize had on, and if not impervious to the cold, at least scornful of it.
She said, "We have a beautiful summer. It is not a long one but our food crops are adapted to it. The strains are carefully chosen so that they grow quickly in the sun and do not frostbite easily. Our domestic animals are well furred, and Comporellian wool is the best in the Galaxy by general admission. Then, too, we have farm settlements in orbit about Comporellon that grow tropical fruit. We actually export canned pineapples of superior flavor. Most people who know us as a cold world don't know that."
Trevize said, "I thank you for coming to see us off, Mitza, and for being willing to co-operate with us on this mission of ours. For my own peace of mind, however, I must ask whether you will find yourself in serious trouble over this."
"No!" She shook her head proudly. "No trouble. In the first place, I will not be questioned. I am in control of transportation, which means I alone set the rules for this spaceport and others, for the entry stations, for the ships that come and go. The Prime Minister depends on me for all that and is only too delighted to remain ignorant of its details. And even if I were questioned, I have but to tell the truth. The government would applaud me for not turning the ship over to the Foundation. So would the people if it were safe to let them know. And the Foundation itself would not know of it."
Trevize said, "The government might be willing to keep the ship from the Foundation, but would they be willing to approve your letting us take it away?"
Lizalor smiled. "You are a decent human being, Trevize. You have fought tenaciously to keep your ship and now that you have it you take the trouble to concern yourself with my welfare." She reached toward him tentatively as though tempted to give some sign of affection and then, with obvious difficulty, controlled the impulse.
She said, with a renewed brusqueness, "Even if they question my decision, I have but to tell them that you have been, and still are, searching for the Oldest, and they will say I did well to get rid of you as quickly as I did, ship and all, And they will perform the rites of atonement that you were ever allowed to land in the first place, though there was no way we might have guessed what you were doing."
"Do you truly fear misfortune to yourself and the world because of my presence?"
"Indeed," said Lizalor stolidly. Then she said, more softly, "You have brought misfortune to me, already, for now that I have known you, Comporellian men will seem more sapless still. I will be left with an unappeasable longing. He Who Punishes has already seen to that."
Trevize hesitated, then said, "I do not wish you to change your mind on this matter, but I do not wish you to suffer needless apprehension, either. You must know that this matter of my bringing misfortune on you is simply superstition."
"The Skeptic told you that, I presume."
"I know it without his telling me."
Lizalor brushed her face, for a thin rime was gathering on her prominent eyebrows and said, "I know there are some who think it superstition. That the Oldest brings misfortune is, however, a fact. It has been demonstrated many times and all the clever Skeptical arguments can't legislate the truth out of existence."
She thrust out her hand suddenly. "Good-bye, Golan. Get on the ship and join your companions before your soft Terminian body freezes in our cold, but kindly wind."
"Good-bye, Mitza, and I hope to see you when I return."
"Yes, you have promised to return and I have tried to believe that you would. I have even told myself that I would come out and meet you at your ship in space so that misfortune would fall only on me and not upon my world-but you will not return."
"Not so! I will! I would not give you up that easily, having had pleasure of you." And at that moment, Trevize was firmly convinced that he meant it.
"I do not doubt your romantic impulses, my sweet Foundationer, but those who venture outward on a search for the Oldest will never come back-anywhere. I know that in my heart."
Trevize tried to keep his teeth from chattering. It was from cold and he didn't want her to think it was from fear. He said, "That, too, is superstition."
"And yet," she said, "that, too, is true."
IT WAS GOOD TO be back in the pilot-room of the Far Star. It might be cramped** for room. It might be a bubble of imprisonment in infinite space. Nevertheless, it was familiar, friendly, and warm.
Bliss said, "I'm glad you finally came aboard. I was wondering how long you would remain with the Minister."
"Not long," said Trevize. "It was cold."
"It seemed to me," said Bliss, "that you were considering remaining with her and postponing the search for Earth. I do not like to probe your mind even lightly, but I was concerned for you and that temptation under which you labored seemed to leap out at me."
Trevize said, "You're quite right. Momentarily at least, I felt the temptation. The Minister is a remarkable woman and I've never met anyone quite like her. Did you strengthen my resistance, Bliss?"
She said, "I've told you many times I must not and will not tamper with your mind in any way, Trevize. You beat down the temptation, I imagine, through your strong sense of duty."
"No, I rather think not." He smiled wryly. "Nothing so dramatic and noble. My resistance was strengthened, for one thing, by the fact that is was cold, and for another, by the sad thought that it wouldn't take many sessions with her to kill me. I could never keep up the pace."
Pelorat said, "Well, anyway, you are safely aboard. What are we going to do next?"
"In the immediate future, we are going to move outward through the planetary system at a brisk pace until we are far enough from Comporellon's sun to make a Jump."
"Do you think we will be stopped or followed?"
"No, I really think that the Minister is anxious only that we go away as rapidly as possible and stay away, in order that the vengeance of He Who Punishes not fall upon the planet. In fact-"
"She believes the vengeance will surely fall on us. She is under the firm conviction that we will never return. This, I hasten to add, is not an estimate of my probable level of infidelity, which she has had no occasion to measure. She meant that Earth is so terrible a bearer of misfortune that anyone who seeks it must die in the process."
Bliss said, "How many have left Comporellon in search of Earth that she can make such a statement?"
"I doubt that any Comporellian has ever left on such a search. I told her that her fears were mere superstition."
"Are you sure you believe that, or have you let her shake you?"
"I know her fears are the purest superstition in the form she expresses them, but they may be well founded just the same."
"You mean, radioactivity will kill us if we try to land on it?"
"I don't believe that Earth is radioactive. What I do believe is that Earth protects itself. Remember that all reference to Earth in the Library on Trantor has been removed. Remember that Gaia's marvelous memory, in which all the planet takes part down to the rock strata of the surface and the molten metal at the core, stops short of penetrating far enough back to tell us anything of Earth.
"Clearly, if Earth is powerful enough to do that, it might also be capable of adjusting minds in order to force belief in its radioactivity, and thus preventing any search for it. Perhaps because Comporellon is so close that it represents a particular danger to Earth, there is the further reinforcement of a curious blankness. Deniador, who is a Skeptic and a scientist, is utterly convinced that there is no use searching for Earth. He says it cannot be found. And that is why the Minister's superstition may be well founded. If Earth is so intent on concealing itself, might it not kill us, or distort us, rather than allow us to find it?"
Bliss frowned and said, "Gaia-"
Trevize said quickly, "Don't say Gaia will protect us. Since Earth was able to remove Gaia's earliest memories, it is clear that in any conflict between the two Earth will win."
Bliss said coldly, "How do you know that the memories were removed? It might be that it simply took time for Gaia to develop a planetary memory and that we can now probe backward only to the time of the completion of that development. And if the memory was removed, how can you be sure that it was Earth that did it?"
Trevize said, "I don't know. I merely advance my speculations."
Pelorat put in, rather timidly, "If Earth is so powerful, and so intent on preserving its privacy, so to speak, of what use is our search? You seem to think Earth won't allow us to succeed and will kill us if that will be what it takes to keep us from succeeding. In that case, is there any sense in not abandoning this whole thing?"
"It might seem we ought to give up, I admit, but I have this powerful conviction that Earth exists, and I must and will find it. And Gaia tells me that when I have powerful convictions of this sort, I am always right."
"But how can we survive the discovery, old chap?"
"It may be," said Trevize, with an effort at lightness, "that Earth, too, will recognize the value of my extraordinary rightness and will leave me to myself. But-and this is what I am finally getting at-I cannot be certain that you two will survive and that is of concern to me. It always has been, but it is increasing now and it seems to me that I ought to take you two back to Gaia and then proceed on my own. It is I, not you, who first decided I must search for Earth; it is I, not you, who see value in it; it is I, not you, who am driven. Let it be I, then, not you, who take the risk. Let me go on alone. Janov?"
Pelorat's long face seemed to grow longer as he buried his chin in his neck. "I won't deny I feel nervous, Golan, but I'd be ashamed to abandon you. I would disown myself if I did so."
"Bliss?"
"Gaia will not abandon you, Trevize, whatever you do. If Earth should prove dangerous, Gaia will protect you as far as it can. And in any case, in my role as Bliss, I will not abandon Pel, and if he clings to you, then I certainly cling to him."
Trevize said grimly, "Very well, then. I've given you your chance. We go on together."
"Together," said Bliss.
Pelorat smiled slightly, and gripped Trevize's shoulder. "Together. Always."
BLISS SAID, "Look at that, Pel."
She had been making use of the ship's telescope by hand, almost aimlessly, as a change from Pelorat's library of Earth-legendry.
Pelorat approached, placed an arm about her shoulders and looked at the viewscreen. One of the gas giants of the Comporellian planetary system was in sight, magnified till it seemed the large body it really was.
In color it was a soft orange streaked with paler stripes. Viewed from the planetary plane, and more distant from the sun than the ship itself was, it was almost a complete circle of light.
"Beautiful," said Pelorat.
"The central streak extends beyond the planet, Pel."
Pelorat furrowed his brow and said, "You know, Bliss, I believe it does,"
"Do you suppose it's an optical illusion?"
Pelorat said, "I'm not sure, Bliss. I'm as much a space-novice as you are-Golan!"
Trevize answered the call with a rather feeble "What is it?" and entered the pilot-room, looking a bit rumpled, as though he had just been napping on his bed with his clothes on-which was exactly what he had been doing.
He said, in a rather peevish way, "Please! Don't be handling the instruments."
"It's just the telescope," said Pelorat. "Look at that."
Trevize did. "It's a gas giant, the one they call Gallia, according to the information I was given."
"How can you tell it's that one, just looking?"
"For one thing," said Trevize, "at our distance from the sun, and because of the planetary sizes and orbital positions, which I've been studying in plotting our course, that's the only one you could magnify to that extent et this time. For another thing, there's the ring."
"Ring?" said Bliss, mystified.
"All you can see is a thin, pale marking, because we're viewing it almost edge-on. We can zoom up out of the planetary plane and give you a better view. Would you like that?"
Pelorat said, "I don't want to make you have to recalculate positions and courses, Golan. "
"Oh well, the computer will do it for me with little trouble." He sat down at the computer as he spoke and placed his hands on the markings that received them. The computer, finely attuned to his mind, did the rest.
The Far Star, free of fuel problems or of inertial sensations, accelerated rapidly, and once again, Trevize felt a surge of love for a computer-and-ship that responded in such a way to him-as though it was his thought that powered and directed it, as though it were a powerful and obedient extension of his will.
It was no wonder the Foundation wanted it back; no wonder Comporellon had wanted it for itself. The only surprise was that the force of superstition had been strong enough to cause Comporellon to be willing to give it up.
Properly armed, it could outrun or outfight any ship in the Galaxy, or any combination of ships-provided only that it did not encounter another ship like itself.
Of course, it was not properly armed. Mayor Branno, in assigning him the ship, had at least been cautious enough to leave it unarmed.
Pelorat and Bliss watched intently as the planet, Gallia, slowly, slowly, tipped toward them. The upper pole (whichever it was) became visible, with turbulence in a large circular region around it, while the lower pole retired behind the bulge of the sphere.
At the upper end, the dark side of the planet invaded the sphere of orange light, and the beautiful circle became increasingly lopsided.
What seemed more exciting was that the central pale streak was no longer straight but had come to be curved, as were the other streaks to the north and south, but more noticeably so.
Now the central streak extended beyond the edges of the planet very distinctly and did so in a narrow loop on either side. There was no question of illusion; its nature was apparent. It was a ring of matter, looping about the planet, and hidden on the far side.
"That's enough to give you the idea, I think," said Trevize. "If we were to move over the planet, you would see the ring in its circular form, concentric about the planet, touching it nowhere. You'll probably see that it's not one ring either but several concentric rings."
"I wouldn't have thought it possible," said Pelorat blankly. "What keeps it in space?"
"The same thing that keeps a satellite in space," said Trevize. "The rings consist of tiny particles, every one of which is orbiting the planet. The rings are so close to the planet that tidal effects prevent it from coalescing into a single body."
Pelorat shook his head. "It's horrifying when I think of it, old man. How is it possible that I can have spent my whole life as a scholar and yet know so little about astronomy?"
"And I know nothing at all about the myths of humanity. No one can encompass all of knowledge. The point is that these planetary rings aren't unusual. Almost every single gas giant has them, even if it's only a thin curve of dust. As it happens, the sun of Terminus has no true gas giant in its planetary family, so unless a Terminian is a space traveler, or has taken University instruction in astronomy, he's likely to know nothing about planetary rings. What is unusual is a ring that is sufficiently broad to be bright and noticeable, like that one. It's beautiful. It must be a couple of hundred kilometers wide, at least."
At this point, Pelorat snapped his fingers. "That's what it meant."
Bliss looked startled. "What is it, Pel?"
Pelorat said, "I came across a scrap of poetry once, very ancient, and in an archaic version of Galactic that was hard to make out but that was good evidence of great age. Though I shouldn't complain of the archaism, old chap. My work has made me an expert on various varieties of Old Galactic, which is quite gratifying even if it is of no use to me whatever outside my work. What was I talking about?"
Bliss said, "An old scrap of poetry, Pel dear."
"Thank you, Bliss," he said. And to Trevize, "She keeps close track of what I say in order to pull me back whenever I get off-course, which is most of the time."
"It's part of your charm, Pel," said Bliss, smiling.
"Anyway, this scrap of poetry purported to describe the planetary system of which Earth was part. Why it should do so, I don't know, for the poem as a whole does not survive; at least, I was never able to locate it. Only this one portion survived, perhaps because of its astronomical content. In any case, it spoke of the brilliant triple ring of the sixth planet 'both brade and large, sae the woruld shronk in comparisoun.' I can still quote it, you see. I didn't understand what a planet's ring could be. I remember thinking of three circles on one side of the planet, all in a row. It seemed so nonsensical, I didn't bother to include it in my library. I'm sorry now I didn't inquire." He shook his head. "Being a mythologist in today's Galaxy is so solitary a job, one forgets the good of inquiring."
Trevize said consolingly, "You were probably right to ignore it, Janov. It's a mistake to take poetic chatter literally."
"But that's what was meant," said Pelorat, pointing at the screen. "That's what the poem was speaking of. Three wide rings, concentric, wider than the planet itself."
Trevize said, "I never heard of such a thing. I don't think rings can be that wide. Compared to the planet they circle, they are always very narrow."
Pelorat said, "We never heard of a habitable planet with a giant satellite, either. Or one with a radioactive crust. This is uniqueness number three. If we find a radioactive planet that might be otherwise habitable, with a giant satellite, and with another planet in the system that has a huge ring, there would be no doubt at all that we had encountered Earth."
Trevize smiled. "I agree, Janov. If we find all three, we will certainly have found Earth."
"If!" said Bliss, with a sigh.
THEY WERE beyond the main worlds of the planetary system, plunging outward between the positions of the two outermost planets so that there was now no significant mass within 1.5 billion kilometers. Ahead lay only the vast cometary cloud which, gravitationally, was insignificant.
The Far Star had accelerated to a speed of 0.1 c, one tenth the speed of light. Trevize knew well that, in theory, the ship could be accelerated to nearly the speed of light, but he also knew that, in practice, 0.1 c was the reasonable limit.
At that speed, any object with appreciable mass could be avoided, but there was no way of dodging the innumerable dust particles in space, and, to a far greater extent even, individual atoms and molecules. At very fast speeds, even such small objects could do damage, scouring and scraping the ship's hull. At speeds near the speed of light, each atom smashing into the hull had the properties of a cosmic ray particle. Under that penetrating cosmic radiation, anyone on board ship would not long survive.
The distant stars showed no perceptible motion in the viewscreen, and even though the ship was moving at thirty thousand kilometers per second, there was every appearance of its standing still.
The computer scanned space to great distances for any oncoming object of small but significant size that might be on a collision course, and the ship veered gently to avoid it, in the extremely unlikely case that that would be necessary. Between the small size of any possible oncoming object, the speed with which it was passed, and the lack of inertial effect as the result of the course change, there was no way of telling whether anything ever took place in the nature of what might be termed a "close call."
Trevize, therefore, did not worry about such things, or even give it the most casual thought. He kept his full attention on the three sets of co-ordinates he had been given by Deniador, and, particularly, on the set which indicated the object closest to themselves.
"Is there something wrong with the figures?" asked Pelorat anxiously.
"I can't tell yet," said Trevize. "Co-ordinates in themselves aren't useful, unless you know the zero point and the conventions used in setting them up-the direction in which to mark off the distance, so to speak, what the equivalent of a prime meridian is, and so on."
"How do you find out such things?" said Pelorat blankly.
"I obtained the co-ordinates of Terminus and a few other known points, relative to Comporellon. If I put them into the computer, it will calculate what the conventions must be for such co-ordinates if Terminus and the other points are to be correctly located. I'm only trying to organize things in my mind so that I can properly program the computer for this. Once the conventions are determined, the figures we have for the Forbidden Worlds might possibly have meaning."
"Only possibly?" said Bliss.
"Only possibly, I'm afraid," said Trevize. "These are old figures after all-presumably Comporellian, but not definitely. What if they are based on other conventions?"
"In that case?"
"In that case, we have only meaningless figures. But-we just have to find out."
His hands flickered over the softly glowing keys of the computer, feeding it the necessary information. He then placed his hands on the handmarks on the desk. He waited while the computer worked out the conventions of the known co-ordinates, paused a moment, then interpreted the co-ordinates of the nearest Forbidden World by the same conventions, and finally located those co-ordinates on the Galactic map in its memory.
A starfield appeared on the screen and moved rapidly as it adjusted itself. When it reached stasis, it expanded with stars bleeding off the edges in all directions until they were almost all gone. At no point could the eye follow the rapid change; it was all a speckled blur. Until finally, a space one tenth of a parsec on each side (according to the index figures below the screen) " all that remained. There was no further change, and only half a dozen dial sparks relieved the darkness of the screen.
"Which one is the Forbidden World?" asked Pelorat softly.
"None of them," said Trevize. "Four of them are red dwarfs, one a near-red dwarf, and the last a white dwarf. None of them can possibly have a habitable world in orbit about them."
"How do you know they're red dwarfs just by looking at them?"
Trevize said, "We're not looking at real stars; we're looking at a section of the Galactic map stored in the computer's memory. Each one is labeled. You can't see it and ordinarily I couldn't see it either, but as long as my hands are making contact, as they are, I am aware of a considerable amount of data on any star on which my eyes concentrate."
Pelorat said in a woebegone tone, "Then the co-ordinates are useless."
Trevize looked up at him, "No, Janov. I'm not finished. There's still the matter of time. The co-ordinates for the Forbidden World are those of twenty thousand years ago. In that time, both it and Comporellon have been revolving about the Galactic Center, and they may well be revolving at different speeds and in orbits of different inclinations and eccentricities. With time, therefore, the two worlds may be drifting closer together or farther apart and, in twenty thousand years, the Forbidden World may have drifted anywhere from one-half to five parsecs off the mark. It certainly wouldn't be included in that tenth-parsec square."
"What do we do, then?"
"We have the computer move the Galaxy twenty thousand years back in time relative to Comporellon."
"Can it do that?" asked Bliss, sounding rather awe-struck.
"Well, it can't move the Galaxy itself back in time, but it can move the map in its memory banks back in time."
Bliss said, "Will we see anything happen?"
"Watch," said Trevize.
Very slowly, the half-dozen stars crawled over the face of the screen. A new star, not hitherto on the screen, drifted in from the left hand edge, and Pelorat pointed in excitement. "There! There!"
Trevize said, "Sorry. Another red dwarf. They're very common. At least three fourths of all the stars in the Galaxy are red dwarfs."
The screen settled down and stopped moving.
"Well?" said Bliss.
Trevize said, "That's it. That's the view of that portion of the Galaxy as it would have been twenty thousand years ago. At the very center of the screen is a point where the Forbidden World ought to be if it had been drifting at some average velocity."
"Ought to be, but isn't," said Bliss sharply.
"It isn't," agreed Trevize, with remarkably little emotion.
Pelorat released his breath in a long sigh. "Oh, too bad, Golan."
Trevize said, "Wait, don't despair. I wasn't expecting to see the star there."
"You weren't?" said Pelorat, astonished.
"No. I told you that this isn't the Galaxy itself, but the computer's map of the Galaxy. If a real star is not included in the map, we don't see it. If the planet is called 'Forbidden' and has been called so for twenty thousand years, the chances are it wouldn't be included in the map. And it isn't, for we don't see it."
Bliss said, "We might not see it because it doesn't exist. The Comporellian legends may be false, or the co-ordinates may be wrong."
"Very true. The computer, however, can now make an estimate as to what the co-ordinates ought to be at this time, now that it has located the spot where it may have been twenty thousand years ago. Using the co-ordinates corrected for time, a correction I could only have made through use of the star map, we can now switch to the real starfield of the Galaxy itself."
Bliss said, "But you only assumed an average velocity for the Forbidden World. What if its velocity was not average? You would not now have the correct co-ordinates."
"True enough, but a correction, assuming average velocity, is almost certain to be closer to its real position, than if we had made no time correction at all."
"You hope!" said Bliss doubtfully.
"That's exactly what I do," said Trevize. "I hope. And now let's look at the real Galaxy."
The two onlookers watched tensely, while Trevize (perhaps to reduce his own tensions and delay the zero moment) spoke softly, almost as though he were lecturing.
"It's more difficult to observe the real Galaxy," he said. "The map in the computer is an artificial construction, with irrelevancies capable of being eliminated. If there is a nebula obscuring the view, I can remove it. If the angle of view is inconvenient for what I have in mind, I can change the angle, and so on. The real Galaxy, however, I must take as I find it, and if I want a change I must move physically through space, which will take far more time than it would take to adjust a map."
And as he spoke, the screen showed a star cloud so rich in individual stars as to seem an irregular heap of powder.
Trevize said, "That's a large angle view of a section of the Milky Way, and I want the foreground, of course. If I expand the foreground, the background will tend to fade in comparison. The co-ordinate spot is close enough to Comporellon so that I should be able to expand it to about the situation I had on the view of the map. Just let me put in the necessary instructions, if I can hold on to my sanity long enough. Now. "
The starfield expanded with a rush so that thousands of stars pushed off every edge, giving the watchers so real a sensation of moving toward the screen that all three automatically leaned backward as though in response to a forward rush.
The old view returned, not quite as dark as it had been on the map, but with the half-dozen stars shown as they had been in the original view. And there, close to the center, was another star, shining far more brightly than the others.
"There it is," said Pelorat, in an awed whisper.
"It may be. I'll have the computer take its spectrum and analyze it." There was a moderately long pause, then Trevize said, "Spectral class, G-4, which makes it a trifle dimmer and smaller than Terminus's sun, but rather brighter than Comporellon's sun. And no G-class star should be omitted from the computer's Galactic map. Since this one is, that is a strong indication that it may be the sun about which the Forbidden World revolves."
Bliss said, "Is there any chance of its turning out that there is no habitable planet revolving about this star after all?"
"There's a chance, I suppose. In that case, we'll try to find the other two Forbidden Worlds."
Bliss persevered. "And if the other two are false alarms, too?"
"Then we'll try something else."
"Like what?" "I wish I knew," said Trevize grimly.