Foundation's Edge (38 page)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What of all this?” asked Kodell cautiously.

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

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

“I am telling you that Gaia deserves inspection.”

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

“Please do.”

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

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

“That surely is impossible, Mayor.”

“I suppose everything and everyone has its flaws. Even Hari Seldon was not perfect, surely. Somewhere the Plan has a flaw and

Trevize has stumbled upon it, perhaps without even knowing that he has. We must know what is happening and we must be on the spot.”

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

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

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

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

“What do you want to do with them?”

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

“What’s all this intended for?”

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

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

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

“Gaia might also have advanced.”

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

“Pardon me, Mayor. What was that?”

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

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

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

“You know nothing about such things, Mayor.”

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

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

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

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

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

GAIA-S

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

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

She said in a low voice, “Master?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I would like that, Master.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Apprehensive,” muttered Gendibal.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But is there danger?”

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

“Does that not mean danger?”

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

“How can you tell this?”

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

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