power to overwhelm Sayshell.”
Gendibal did not answer at once, for it would not do to show that he had not expected such a move—or that he didn’t understand it. So, after a moment, he said negligently, “Do you suppose that this has something to do with Trevize’s movement toward Gaia?”
“It certainly came immediately afterward—and if B follows A, then there is at least a possibility that A caused B,” said Compor.
“Well, then, it seems we all converge upon Gaia— Trevize, and I, and the First Foundation. —Come, you acted well, Compor,” said Gendibal, “and here is what we will now do. First, you will show me how this computer works and, through that, how the ship may be handled. I am sure that will not take long.
“After that, you will get into my ship, since by then I will have impressed on your mind how to handle it. You will have no trouble maneuvering it, although I must tell you (as you have no doubt guessed from its appearance) that you will find it primitive indeed. Once you are in control of the ship, you will keep it here and wait for me.”
“How long, Speaker?”
“Until I come for you. I do not expect to be gone long enough for you to be in danger of running out of supplies, but if I am unduly delayed, you may find your way to some inhabited planet of the Sayshell Union and wait there. Wherever you are, I will find you.”
“As you say, Speaker.”
“And do not be alarmed. I can handle this mysterious Gaia and, if need be, the five ships of the Foundation as well.”
4.
Littoral Thoobing had been the Foundation’s ambassador to Sayshell for seven years. He rather liked the position.
Tall and rather stout, he wore a thick brown mustache at a time when the predominant fashion, both in the Foundation and in Sayshell, was smooth-shaven. He had a strongly lined countenance, though he was only fifty- four—and was much given to a schooled indifference. His attitude toward his work was not easily seen.
Still, he rather liked the position. It kept him away from the hurly-burly of politics on Terminus—something he appreciated—and it gave him the chance to live the life of a Sayshellian sybarite and to support his wife and daughter in the style to which they had become addicted. He didn’t want his life disturbed.
On the other hand, he rather disliked Liono Kodell, perhaps because Kodell also sported a mustache, though one which was smaller, shorter, and grayish-white. In the old days, they had been the only two people in prominent public life who had worn one and there had been rather a competition between them over the matter. Now (thought Thoobing) there was none; Kodell’s was contemptible.
Kodell had been Director of Security when Thoobing was still on Terminus, dreaming of opposing Harla Branno in the race for Mayor, until he had been bought off with the ambassadorship. Branno had done it for her own sake, of course, but he had ended up owing her goodwill for that.
But not to Kodell, somehow. Perhaps it was because of Kodell’s determined cheerfulness—the manner in which he was always such a
Now he sat there in hyperspatial image, cheerful as ever, brimming over with bonhomie. His actual body was, of course, back on Terminus, which spared Thoobing the necessity of offering him any physical sign of hospitality.
“Kodell,” he said. “I want those ships withdrawn.”
Kodell smiled sunnily. “Why, so do I, but the old lady has made up her mind.”
“You’ve been known to persuade her out of this or that.”
“On occasion. Perhaps. When she wanted to be persuaded. This time she doesn’t want to be. —Thoobing, do your job. Keep Sayshell calm.”
“I’m not thinking about Sayshell, Kodell. I’m thinking about the Foundation.”
“So are we all.”
“Kodell, don’t fence. I want you to listen to me.”
“Gladly, but these are hectic times on Terminus and I will not listen to you forever.”
“I will be as brief as I can be—when discussing the possibility of the Foundation’s destruction. If this hyperspatial line is not being tapped, I will speak openly.”
“It is not being tapped.”
“Then let me go on. I have received a message some days ago from one Golan Trevize. I recall a Trevize in my own political days, a Commissioner of Transportation.”
“The young man’s uncle,” Kodell said.
“Ah, then you know the Trevize who sent the message to me. According to the information I have since gathered, he was a Councilman who, after the recent successful resolution of a Seldon Crisis, was arrested and sent into exile.”
“Exactly.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“What is it that you don’t believe?”
“That he was sent into exile.”
“Why not?”
“When in history has any citizen of the Foundation been sent into exile?” demanded Thoobing. “He is arrested or not arrested. If he is arrested, he is tried or not tried. If he is tried, he is convicted or not convicted. If he is convicted, he is fined, demoted, disgraced, imprisoned, or executed. No one is sent into exile.”
“There is always a first time.”
“Nonsense. In an advanced naval vessel? What fool can fail to see that he is on a special mission for your old woman? Whom can she possibly expect to deceive?”
“What would the mission be?”
“Supposedly to find the planet Gaia.”
Some of the cheerfulness left Kodell’s face. An unaccustomed hardness entered his eyes. He said, “I know that you feel no overwhelming impulse to believe my statements, Mr. Ambassador, but I make a special plea that you believe me in this one case. Neither the Mayor nor I had ever heard of Gaia at the time that Trevize was sent into exile. We have heard of Gaia, for the first time, just the other day. If you believe that, this conversation may continue.”
“I will suspend my tendency toward skepticism long enough to accept that, Director, though it is difficult to do so.”
“It is quite true, Mr. Ambassador, and if I have suddenly adopted a formal note to my statements it is because when this is done, you will find that you have questions to answer and that you will not find the occasion joyful. You speak as though Gaia is a world familiar to you. How is it that you know something we did not know? Is it not your duty to see to it that we know everything that you know about the political unit to which you are assigned?”
Thoobing said softly, “Gaia is not part of the Sayshell Union. It, in fact, probably does not exist. Am I to transmit to Terminus all the fairy tales that the superstitious lower orders of Sayshell tell of Gaia? Some of them say that Gaia is located in hyperspace. According to others, it is a world that supernaturally protects Sayshell. According to still others, it sent forth the Mule to prey on the Galaxy. If you are planning to tell the Sayshellian government that Trevize has been sent out to find Gaia and that five advanced ships of the Foundation Navy have been sent out to back him in this search, they will never believe you. The people may believe fairy tales about Gaia, but the government does not—and they will not be convinced that the Foundation does. They will feel that you intend to force Sayshell into the Foundation Federation.”
“And what if we do plan that?”
“It would be fatal. Come, Kodell, in the five-century history of the Foundation, when have we fought a war of conquest? We have fought wars to prevent our own conquest—and failed once—but no war has ended with an
