Second Foundation Part 16

Pappa handed them over, and they were flipped through in expert fas.h.i.+on.

"You're Preem Palver, native of Trantor, on Kalgan for a month, returning to Trantor. Answer, yes or no."

"Yes, yes."

"What's your business on Kalgan?"

"I'm trading representative of our farm co-operative. I've been negotiating terms with the Department of Agriculture on Kalgan.

"Um-m-m. Your wife is with you? Where is she? She is mentioned in your papers."

"Please. My wife is in the" He pointed.

"Hanto," roared the policeman. Another uniform joined him.

The first one said, dryly, "Another dame in the can, by the Galaxy. The place must be busting with them. Write down her name." He indicated the entry in the papers which gave it.

"Anyone else with you?"

"My niece."

"She's not mentioned in the papers."

"She came separately."

"Where is she? Never mind, I know. Write down the niece's name, too, Hanto. What's her name? Write down Arcadia Palver. You stay right here, Palver. We'll take care of the women before we leave."

Pappa waited interminably. And then, long, long after, Mamma was marching toward him, Arcadia's hand firmly in hers, the two policemen trailing behind her.

They entered Pappa's square, and one said, "Is this noisy old woman your wife?"

"Yes, sir," said Pappa, placatingly.

"Then you'd better tell her she's liable to get into trouble if she talks the way she does to the First Citizen's police." He straightened his shoulders angrily. "Is this your niece?"

"Yes, sir."

"I want her papers."

Looking straight at her husband, Mamma slightly, but no less firmly, shook her head.

A short pause, and Pappa said with a weak smile, "I don't think I can do that."

"What do you mean you can't do that?" The policeman thrust out a hard palm. "Hand it over."

"Diplomatic immunity," said Pappa, softly.

"What do you mean?"

"I said I was trading representative of my farm co-operative. I'm accredited to the Kalganian government as an official foreign representative and my papers prove it. I showed them to you and now I don't want to be bothered any more."

For a moment, the policeman was taken aback. "I got to see your papers. It's orders."

"You go away," broke in Mamma, suddenly. "When we want you, we'll send for you, you ... you b.u.m." b.u.m."

The policeman's lips tightened. "Keep your eye on them, Hanto. I'll get the lieutenant."

"Break a leg!" called Mamma after him. Someone laughed, and then choked it off suddenly.

The search was approaching its end. The crowd was growing dangerously restless. Forty-five minutes had elapsed since the grid had started falling and that is too long for best effects. Lieutenant Dirige threaded his way hastily, therefore, toward the dense center of the mob.

"Is this the girl?" he asked wearily. He looked at her and she obviously fitted the description. All this for a child.

He said, "Her papers, if you please?"

Pappa began, "I have already explained"

"I know what you have explained, and I'm sorry," said the lieutenant, "but I have my orders, and I can't help them. If you care to make a protest later, you may. Meanwhile, if necessary, I must use force."

There was a pause, and the lieutenant waited patiently.

Then Pappa said, huskily, "Give me your papers, Arcadia."

Arcadia shook her head in panic, but Pappa nodded his head. "Don't be afraid. Give them to me."

Helplessly she reached out and let the doc.u.ments change hands. Pappa fumbled them open and looked carefully through them, then handed them over. The lieutenant in his turn looked through them carefully. For a long moment, he raised his eyes to rest them on Arcadia, and then he closed the booklet with a sharp snap.

"All in order," he said. "All right, men."

He left, and in two minutes, scarcely more, the grid was gone, and the voice above signified a back-to-normal. The noise of the crowd, suddenly released, rose high.

Arcadia said: "How ... how"

Pappa said, "Sh-h. "Sh-h. Don't say a word. Let's better go to the s.h.i.+p. It should be in the berth soon." Don't say a word. Let's better go to the s.h.i.+p. It should be in the berth soon."

They were on the s.h.i.+p. They had a private stateroom and a table to themselves in the dining room. Two light-years already separated them from Kalgan, and Arcadia finally dared to broach the subject again.

She said, "But they were were after me, Mr. Palver, and they must have had my description and all the details. Why did he let me go?" after me, Mr. Palver, and they must have had my description and all the details. Why did he let me go?"

And Pappa smiled broadly over his roast beef. "Well, Arcadia, child, it was easy. When you've been dealing with agents and buyers and competing co-operatives, you learn some of the tricks. I've had twenty years or more to learn them in. You see, child, when the lieutenant opened your papers, he found a five hundred credit bill inside, folded up small. Simple, no?"

"I'll pay you back Honest, I've got lots of money."

"Well," Pappa's broad face broke into an embarra.s.sed smile, as he waved it away. "For a country-woman"

Arcadia desisted. "But what if he'd taken the money and turned me in anyway. And accused me of bribery."

"And give up five hundred credits? I know these people better than you do, girl."

But Arcadia knew that he did not know people better. Not these these people. In her bed that night, she considered carefully, and people. In her bed that night, she considered carefully, and knew knew that no bribe would have stopped a police lieutenant in the matter of catching her unless that had been planned. They that no bribe would have stopped a police lieutenant in the matter of catching her unless that had been planned. They didn't didn't want to catch her, yet had made every motion of doing so, nevertheless. want to catch her, yet had made every motion of doing so, nevertheless.

Why? To make sure she left? And for Trantor? Were the obtuse and soft-hearted couple she was with now only a pair of tools in the hands of the Second Foundation, as helpless as she herself?

They must be!

Or were they?

It was all so useless. How could she fight them. Whatever she did, it might only be what those terrible omnipotents wanted her to do.

Yet she had to outwit them. Had Had to. to. Had Had to! to! Had Had to!! to!!

16

Beginning of War

For reason or reasons unknown to members of the Galaxy at the time of the era under discussion, Intergalactic Standard Time defines its fundamental unit, the second, as the time in which light travels 299,776 kilometers. 86,400 seconds are arbitrarily set equal to one Intergalactic Standard Day; and 365 of these days to one Intergalactic Standard Year.

Why 299,776? Or 86,400? Or 365?

Tradition, says the historian, begging the question. Because of certain and various mysterious numerical relations.h.i.+ps, say the mystics, cultists, numerologists, metaphysicists. Because the original home-planet of humanity had certain natural periods of rotation and revolution from which those relations.h.i.+ps could be derived, say a very few.

No one really knew.

Nevertheless, the date on which the Foundation cruiser, the Hober Mallow Hober Mallow met the Kalganian squadron, headed by the met the Kalganian squadron, headed by the Fearless, Fearless, and, upon refusing to allow a search party to board, was blasted into smoldering wreckage was 185; 11692 G.E. That is, it was the 185th day of the 11,692nd year of the Galactic Era which dated from the accession of the first Emperor of the traditional Kamble dynasty. It was also 185; 419 A.S. dating from the birth of Seldon or 185; 348 Y.F. dating from the establishment of the Foundation. On Kalgan it was 185; 56 F.C. dating from the establishment of the First Citizens.h.i.+p by the Mule. In each case, of course, for convenience, the year was so arranged as to yield the same day number regardless of the actual day upon which the era began. and, upon refusing to allow a search party to board, was blasted into smoldering wreckage was 185; 11692 G.E. That is, it was the 185th day of the 11,692nd year of the Galactic Era which dated from the accession of the first Emperor of the traditional Kamble dynasty. It was also 185; 419 A.S. dating from the birth of Seldon or 185; 348 Y.F. dating from the establishment of the Foundation. On Kalgan it was 185; 56 F.C. dating from the establishment of the First Citizens.h.i.+p by the Mule. In each case, of course, for convenience, the year was so arranged as to yield the same day number regardless of the actual day upon which the era began.

And, in addition, to all the millions of worlds of the Galaxy, there were millions of local times, based on the motions of their own particular heavenly neighbors.

But whichever you choose: 185; 11692-419-348-56 or anything it was this day which historians later pointed to when they spoke of the start of the Stettinian war.

Yet to Dr. Darell, it was none of these at all. It was simply and quite precisely the thirty-second day since Arcadia had left Terminus.

What it cost Darell to maintain stolidity through these days was not obvious to everyone.

But Elvett Semic thought he could guess. He was an old man and fond of saying that his neuronic sheaths had calcified to the point where his thinking processes were stiff and unwieldy. He invited and almost welcomed the universal underestimation of his decaying powers by being the first to laugh at them. But his eyes were none the less seeing for being faded; his mind none the less experienced and wise, for being no longer agile.

He merely twisted his pinched lips and said, "Why don't you do something about it?"

The sound was a physical jar to Darell, under which he winced. He said, gruffly, "Where were we?"

Semic regarded him with grave eyes. "You'd better do something about the girl." His spa.r.s.e, yellow teeth showed in a mouth that was open in inquiry.

But Darell replied coldly, "The question is: Can you get a Symes-Molff Resonator in the range required?"

Well, I said I could and you weren't listening"

"I'm sorry, Elvett. It's like this. What we're doing now can be more important to everyone in the Galaxy than the question of whether Arcadia is safe. At least, to everyone but Arcadia and myself, and I'm willing to go along with the majority. How big would the Resonator be?"

Semic looked doubtful, "I don't know. You can find it somewheres in the catalogues."

"About how big. A ton? A pound? A block long?"

"Oh, I thought you meant exactly. It's a little jigger." He indicated the first joint of his thumb. "About that."

"All right, can you do something like this?" He sketched rapidly on the pad he held in his lap, then pa.s.sed it over to the old physicist, who peered at it doubtfully, then chuckled.

"Y'know, the brain gets calcified when you get as old as I am. What are you trying to do?"

Darell hesitated. He longed desperately, at the moment, for the physical knowledge locked in the other's brain, so that he need not put his thought into words. But the longing was useless, and he explained.

Semic was shaking his head. "You'd need hyper-relays. The only things that would work fast enough. A thundering lot of them."

"But it can be built?"

"Well, sure."

"Can you get all the parts? I mean, without causing comment? In line with your general work."

Semic lifted his upper lip. "Can't get fifty hyper-relays? I wouldn't use that many in my whole life."

"We're on a defense project, now. Can't you think of something harmless that would use them? We've got the money."

"Hm-m-m. Maybe I can think of something."

"How small can you make the whole gadget?"

"Hyper-relays can be had micro-size ... wiring ... tubes s.p.a.ce, you've got a few hundred circuits there."

"I know. How big?"

Semic indicated with his hands.

"Too big," said Darell. "I've got to swing it from my belt"

Slowly, he was crumpling his sketch into a tight ball. When it was a hard, yellow grape, he dropped it into the ash tray and it was gone with the tiny white flare of molecular decomposition.

He said, "Who's at your door?"

Semic leaned over his desk to the little milky screen above the door signal. He said, "The young fellow, Anthor. Someone with him, too."

Darell sc.r.a.ped his chair back. "Nothing about this, Semic, to the others yet. It's deadly knowledge, if they they find out, and two lives are enough to risk." find out, and two lives are enough to risk."