Foundation's Edge

Pelorat had been interested in the Seldon Crisis that for months had occupied every mind on Terminus and indeed almost every mind in the Federation.

It had seemed to him to make the most trifling difference as to whether the capital of the Foundation had remained here at Terminus, or had been shifted somewhere else. And now that the crisis had been resolved, he remained unsure as to which side of the matter Hari Seldon had championed, or if the matter under dispute had been mentioned at all.

It was enough that Seldon had appeared and that now this was the day.

It was a little after two in the afternoon that a ground-car slid to a halt in the driveway of his somewhat isolated house just outside Terminus proper.

A rear door slid back. A guard in the uniform of the Mayoralty Security Corps stepped out, then a young man, then two more guards.

Pelorat was impressed despite himself. The Mayor not only knew of his work but clearly considered it of the highest importance. The person who was to be his companion was given an honor guard, and he had been promised a first-class vessel which his companion would be able to pilot. Most flattering! Most—

Pelorat’s housekeeper opened the door. The young man entered and the two guards positioned themselves on either side of the entrance. Through the window, Pelorat saw that the third guard remained outside and that a second ground-car now pulled up. Additional guards!

Confusing!

He turned to find the young man in his room and was surprised to find that he recognized him. He had seen him on holocasts. He said, “You’re that Councilman. You’re Trevize!”

“Golan Trevize. That’s right. You are Professor Janov Pelorat?”

“Yes, yes,” said Pelorat. “Are you he who will—”

“We are going to be fellow travelers,” said Trevize woodenly. “Or so I have been told.”

“But you’re not a historian.”

“No, I’m not. As you said, I’m a Councilman, a politician.”

“Yes— Yes— But what am I thinking about? I am a historian, therefore what need for another? You can pilot a spaceship.”

“Yes, I’m pretty good at that.”

“Well, that’s what we need, then. Excellent! I’m afraid I’m not one of your practical thinkers, young man, so if it should happen that you are, we’ll make a good team.”

Trevize said, “I am not, at the moment, overwhelmed with the excellence of my thinking, but it seems we have no choice but to try to make it a good team.”

“Let’s hope, then, that I can overcome my uncertainty about space. I’ve never been in space, you know, Councilman. I am a groundhog, if that’s the term. Would you like a glass of tea, by the way? I’ll have Kloda prepare us something. It is my understanding that it will be some hours before we leave, after all. I am prepared right now, however. I have what is necessary for both of us. The Mayor has been most co-operative. Astonishing—her interest in the project.”

Trevize said, “You’ve known about this, then? How long?”

“The Mayor approached me” (here Pelorat frowned slightly and seemed to be making certain calculations) “two, or maybe three, weeks ago. I was delighted. And now that I have got it clear in my head that I need a pilot and not a second historian, I am also delighted that my companion will be you, my dear fellow.”

“Two, maybe three, weeks ago,” repeated Trevize, sounding a little dazed. “She was prepared all this time, then. And I—” He faded out.

“Pardon me?”

“Nothing, Professor. I have a bad habit of muttering to myself. It is something you will have to grow accustomed to, if our trip extends itself.”

“It will. It will,” said Pelorat, bustling the other to the dining room table, where an elaborate tea was being prepared by his housekeeper. “Quite openended. The Mayor said we were to take as long as we liked and that the Galaxy lay all before us and, indeed, that wherever we went we could call upon Foundation funds. She said, of course, that we would have to be reasonable. I promised that much.” He chuckled and rubbed his hands. “Sit down, my good fellow, sit down. This may be our last meal on Terminus for a very long time.”

Trevize sat down. He said, “Do you have a family, Professor?”

“I have a son. He’s on the faculty at Santanni University. A chemist, I believe, or something like that. He took after his mother’s side. She hasn’t been with me for a long time, so you see I have no responsibilities, no active hostages to fortune. I trust you have none—help yourself to the sandwiches, my boy.”

“No hostages at the moment. A few women. They come and go.”

“Yes. Yes. Delightful when it works out. Even more delightful when you find it need not be taken seriously. —No children, I take it.”

“None.”

“Good! You know, I’m in the most remarkable good humor. I was taken aback when you first came in. I admit it. But I find you quite exhilarating now. What I need is youth and enthusiasm and someone who can find his way about the Galaxy. We’re on a search, you know. A remarkable search.” Pelorat’s quiet face and quiet voice achieved an unusual animation without any particular change in either expression or intonation. “I wonder if you have been told about this.”

Trevize’s eyes narrowed. “A remarkable search?”

“Yes indeed. A pearl of great price is hidden among the tens of millions of inhabited worlds in the Galaxy and we have nothing but the faintest clues to guide us. Just the same, it will be an incredible prize if we can find it. If you and I can carry it off, my boy—Trevize, I should say, for I don’t mean to patronize—our names will ring down the ages to the end of time.”

“The prize you speak of—this pearl of great price—”

“I sound like Arkady Darell—the writer, you know—speaking of the Second Foundation, don’t I? No wonder you look astonished.” Pelorat leaned his head back as though he were going to break into loud laughter but he merely smiled. “Nothing so silly and unimportant, I assure you.”

Trevize said, “If you are not speaking of the Second Foundation, Professor, what are you speaking of?”

Pelorat was suddenly grave, even apologetic. “Ah, then the Mayor has not told you? —It is odd, you know. I’ve spent decades resenting the government and its inability to understand what I’m doing, and now Mayor Branno is being remarkably generous.”

“Yes,” said Trevize, not trying to conceal an intonation of irony, “she is a woman of remarkable hidden philanthropy, but she has not told me what this is all about.”

“You are not aware of my research, then?”

“No. I’m sorry.”

“No need to excuse yourself. Perfectly all right. I have not exactly made a splash. Then let me tell you. You and I are going to search for—and find, for I have an excellent possibility in mind—Earth.”

2.

Trevize did not sleep well that night.

Over and over, he thrashed about the prison that the old woman had built around him. Nowhere could he find a way out.

He was being driven into exile and he could do nothing about it. She had been calmly inexorable and did not even take the trouble to mask the unconstitutionality of it all. He had relied on his rights as a Councilman and as a citizen of the Federation, and she hadn’t even paid them lip service.

And now this Pelorat, this odd academic who seemed to be located in the world without being part of it, told him that the fearsome old woman had been making arrangements for this for weeks.

He felt like the “boy” that she had called him.