Worlds, we became aware of what you call the Second Foundation and we left it to them.”
Trevize stared blankly for several moments, then muttered, “There go our history books!” He shook his head and said in a louder tone of voice, “That was rather cowardly of Gaia, wasn’t it, to do so?” said Trevize. “He was your responsibility.”
“You are right. But once we finally turned our eyes upon the Galaxy, we saw what until then we had been blind to, so that the tragedy of the Mule proved a lifesaving matter to us. It was then that we recognized that eventually a dangerous crisis would come upon us. And it has—but not before we were able to take measures, thanks to the incident of the Mule.”
“What sort of crisis?”
“One that threatens us with destruction.”
“I can’t believe that. You held off the Empire, the Mule, and Sayshell. You have a group consciousness that can pluck a ship out of space at a distance of millions of kilometers. What can you have to fear? —Look at Bliss. She doesn’t look the least bit perturbed.
Bliss had placed one shapely leg over the arm of the chair and wriggled her toes at him. “Of course I’m not worried, Trev. You’ll handle it.”
Trev said forcefully, “
Dom said, “Gaia has brought you here by means of a hundred gentle manipulations. It is you who must face our crisis.”
Trev stared at him and slowly his face turned from stupefaction into gathering rage. “
“Nevertheless, Trev,” said Dom with an almost hypnotic calmness, “
18
COLLISION
1.
Stor Gendibal was edging toward Gaia almost as cautiously as Trevize had—and now that its star was a perceptible disc and could be viewed only through strong filters, he paused to consider.
Sura Novi sat to one side, looking up at him now and then in a timorous manner.
She said softly, “Master?”
“What is it, Novi?” he asked abstractedly.
“Are you unhappy?”
He looked up at her quickly. “No. Concerned. Remember that word? I am trying to decide whether to move in quickly or to wait longer. Shall I be very brave, Novi?”
“I think you are very brave all times, Master.”
“To be brave is sometimes to be foolish.”
Novi smiled. “How can a master scholar be foolish? —That is a sun, is it not, Master?” She pointed to the screen.
Gendibal nodded.
Novi said, after an irresolute pause, “Is it the sun that shines on Trantor? Is it the Hamish sun?”
Gendibal said, “No, Novi. It is a far different sun. There are many suns, billions of them.”
“Ah! I have known this with my head. I could not make myself believe, however. How is it, Master, that one can know with the head—and yet not believe?”
Gendibal smiled faintly, “In your head, Novi—” he began and, automatically, as he said that, he found himself in her head. He stroked it gently, as he always did, when he found himself there—just a soothing touch of mental tendrils to keep her calm and untroubled—and he would then have left again, as he always did, had not something drawn him back.
What he sensed was indescribable in any but mentalic terms, but metaphorically, Novi’s brain glowed. It was the faintest possible glow.
It would not be there except for the existence of a mentalic field imposed from without—a mentalic field of an intensity so small that the finest receiving function of Gendibal’s own well-trained mind could just barely detect it, even against the utter smoothness of Novi’s mentalic structure.
He said sharply, “Novi, how do you feel?”
Her eyes opened wide. “I feel well, Master.”
“Are you dizzy, confused? Close your eyes and sit absolutely still until I say, ‘Now.’?”
Obediently she closed her eyes. Carefully Gendibal brushed away all extraneous sensations from her mind, quieted her thoughts, soothed her emotions, stroked—stroked—He left nothing but the glow and it was so faint that he could almost persuade himself it was not there.
“Now,” he said and Novi opened her eyes.
“How do you feel, Novi?”
“Very calm, Master. Rested.”
It was clearly too feeble for it to have any noticeable effect on her.
He turned to the computer and wrestled with it. He had to admit to himself that he and the computer did not mesh very well together. Perhaps it was because he was too used to using his mind directly to be able to work through an intermediary. But he was looking for a ship, not a mind, and the initial search could be done more efficiently with the help of the computer.
And he found the sort of ship he suspected might be present. It was half a million kilometers away and it was much like his own in design, but it was much larger and more elaborate.
Once it was located with the computer’s help, Gendibal could allow his mind to take over directly. He sent it outward—tight-beamed—and with it felt (or the mentalic equivalent of “felt”) the ship, inside and out.
He then sent his mind toward the planet Gaia, approaching it more closely by several millions of kilometers of space—and withdrew. Neither process was sufficient in itself to tell him, unmistakably, which—if either—was the source of the field.
He said, “Novi, I would like you to sit next to me for what is to follow.”
“Master, is there danger?”
“You are not to be in any way concerned, Novi. I will see to it that you are safe and secure.”
“Master, I am not concerned that I be safe and secure. If there is danger, I want to be able to help you.”
Gendibal softened. He said, “Novi, you have already helped. Because of you, I became aware of a very small thing it was important to be aware of. Without you, I might have blundered rather deeply into a bog and might have had to pull out only through a great deal of trouble.”
“Have I done this with my mind, Master, as you once explained?” asked Novi, astonished.
“Quite so, Novi. No instrument could have been more sensitive. My own mind is not; it is too full of complexity.”
Delight filled Novi’s face. “I am so grateful I can help.”
Gendibal smiled and nodded—and then subsided into the somber knowledge that he would need other help as well. Something childish within him objected. The job was his—his alone.
Yet it could not be his alone. The odds were climbing—
