Prelude to Foundation

“Yes. And before you ask, I still refuse to consider one for us.”

Russ said, “We have also received information that yesterday, after leaving the scene of the riot, you consulted with one Davan, a known subversive who is wanted by the security police. Is that true?”

“You’ll have to prove that without help from us,” said Seldon. “We’re not answering any further questions.”

Russ put away his pad. “I’m afraid I must ask you to come with us to headquarters for further interrogation.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary, Officer,” said Seldon. “We are Outworlders who have done nothing criminal. We have tried to avoid a newsman who was annoying us unduly, we tried to protect ourselves against rape and possible murder in a part of the sector known for criminal behavior, and we’ve spoken to various Dahlites. We see nothing there to warrant our further questioning. It would come under the heading of harassment.”

“We make these decisions,” said Russ. “Not you. Will you please come with us?”

“No, we will not,” said Dors.

“Watch out!” cried out Mistress Tisalver. “She’s got two knives.”

Officer Russ sighed and said, “Thank you, Mistress, but I know she does.” He turned to Dors. “Do you know it’s a serious crime to carry a knife without a permit in this sector? Do you have a permit?”

“No, Officer, I don’t.”

“It was clearly with an illegal knife, then, that you assaulted Marron? Do you realize that that greatly increases the seriousness of the crime?”

“It was no crime, Officer,” said Dors. “Understand that. Marron had a knife as well and no permit, I am certain.”

“We have no evidence to that effect and while Marron has knife wounds, neither of you have any.”

“Of course he had a knife, Officer. If you don’t know that every man in Billibotton and most men elsewhere in Dahl carry knives for which they probably don’t have permits, then you’re the only man in Dahl who doesn’t know. There are shops here wherever you turn that sell knives openly. Don’t you know that?”

Russ said, “It doesn’t matter what I know or don’t know in this respect. Nor does it matter whether other people are breaking the law or how many of them do. All that matters at this moment is that Mistress Venabili is breaking the anti-knife law. I must ask you to give up those knives to me right now, Mistress, and the two of you must then accompany me to headquarters.”

Dors said, “In that case, take my knives away from me.”

Russ sighed. “You must not think, Mistress, that knives are all the weapons there are in Dahl or that I need engage you in a knife fight. Both my partner and I have blasters that will destroy you in a moment, before you can drop your hands to your knife hilt—however fast you are. We won’t use a blaster, of course, because we are not here to kill you. However, each of us also has a neuronic whip, which we can use on you freely. I hope you won’t ask for a demonstration. It won’t kill you, do you permanent harm of any kind, or leave any marks—but the pain is excruciating. My partner is holding a neuronic whip on you right now. And here is mine. —Now, let us have your knives, Mistress Venabili.”

There was a moment’s pause and then Seldon said, “It’s no use, Dors. Give him your knives.”

And at that moment, a frantic pounding sounded at the door and they all heard a voice raised in high-pitched expostulation.

79

Raych had not entirely left the neighborhood after he had walked them back to their apartment house.

He had eaten well while waiting for the interview with Davan to be done and later had slept a bit after finding a bathroom that more or less worked. He really had no place to go now that all that was done. He had a home of sorts and a mother who was not likely to be perturbed if he stayed away for a while. She never was.

He did not know who his father was and wondered sometimes if he really had one. He had been told he had to have one and the reasons for that had been explained to him crudely enough. Sometimes he wondered if he ought to believe so peculiar a story, but he did find the details titillating.

He thought of that in connection with the lady. She was an old lady, of course, but she was pretty and she could fight like a man—better than a man. It filled him with vague notions.

And she had offered to let him take a bath. He could swim in the Billibotton pool sometimes when he had some credits he didn’t need for anything else or when he could sneak in. Those were the only times he got wet all over, but it was chilly and he had to wait to get dry.

Taking a bath was different. There would be hot water, soap, towels, and warm air. He wasn’t sure what it would feel like, except that it would be nice if she was there.

He was walkway-wise enough to know of places where he could park himself in an alley off a walkway that would be near a bathroom and still be near enough to where she was, yet where he probably wouldn’t be found and made to run away.

He spent the night thinking strange thoughts. What if he did learn to read and write? Could he do something with that? He wasn’t sure what, but maybe she could tell him. He had vague ideas of being paid money to do things he didn’t know how to do now, but he didn’t know what those things might be. He would have to be told, but how do you get told?

If he stayed with the man and the lady, they might help. But why should they want him to stay with them?

He drowsed off, coming to later, not because the light was brightening, but because his sharp ears caught the heightening and deepening of sounds from the walkway as the activities of the day began.

He had learned to identify almost every variety of sound, because in the underground maze of Billibotton, if you wanted to survive with even a minimum of comfort, you had to be aware of things before you saw them. And there was something about the sound of a ground-car motor that he now heard that signaled danger to him. It had an official sound, a hostile sound—

He shook himself awake and stole quietly toward the walkway. He scarcely needed to see the Spaceship- and-Sun on the ground-car. Its lines were enough. He knew they had to be coming for the man and the lady because they had seen Davan. He did not pause to question his thoughts or to analyze them. He was off on a run, beating his way through the gathering life of the day.

He was back in less than fifteen minutes. The ground-car was still there and there were curious and cautious onlookers gazing at it from all sides and from a respectful distance. There would soon be more. He pounded his way up the stairs, trying to remember which door he should bang on. No time for the elevator.

He found the door—at least he thought he did—and he banged, shouting in a squeak, “Lady! Lady!”

He was too excited to remember her name, but he remembered part of the man’s. “Hari!” he shouted. “Let me in.”

The door opened and he rushed in—tried to rush in. The rough hand of an officer seized his arm. “Hold it, kid. Where do you think you’re going?”

“Leggo! I ain’t done nothin’.” He looked about. “Hey, lady, what’re they doin’?”

“Arresting us,” said Dors grimly.

“What for?” said Raych, panting and struggling. “Hey, leggo, you Sunbadger. Don’t go with him, lady. You don’t have to go with him.”

“You get out,” said Russ, shaking the boy vehemently.

“No, I ain’t. You ain’t either, Sunbadger. My whole gang is coming. You ain’t gettin’ out, less’n you let these guys go.”

“What whole gang?” said Russ, frowning.

“They’re right outside now. Prob’ly takin’ your ground-car apart. And they’ll take you apart.”

Russ turned toward his partner, “Call headquarters. Have them send out a couple of trucks with Macros.”

“No!” shrieked Raych, breaking loose and rushing at Astinwald. “Don’t call!”