Mayor Harla Branno had every reason for satisfaction. The state visit had not lasted long, but it had been thoroughly productive.
She said, as though in deliberate attempt to avoid hubris, “We can’t, of course, trust them completely.”
She was watching the screen. The ships of the Fleet were, one by one, entering hyperspace and returning to their normal stations.
There was no question but that Sayshell had been impressed by their presence, but they could not have failed to notice two things: one, that the ships had remained in Foundation space at all times; two, that once Branno had indicated they would leave, they were indeed leaving with celerity.
On the other hand, Sayshell would not forget either that those ships could be recalled to the border at a day’s notice—or less. It was a maneuver that had combined both a demonstration of power and a demonstration of goodwill.
Kodell said, “Quite right, we can’t trust them completely, but then no one in the Galaxy can be trusted completely and it is in the self-interest of Sayshell to observe the terms of the agreement. We have been generous.”
Branno said, “A lot will depend on working out the details and I predict that will take months. The general brushstrokes can be accepted in a moment, but then come the shadings: just how we arrange for quarantine of imports and exports, how we weigh the value of their grain and cattle compared to ours, and so on.”
“I know, but it will be done eventually and the credit will be yours, Mayor. It was a bold stroke and one, I admit, whose wisdom I doubted.”
“Come, Liono. It was just a matter of the Foundation recognizing Sayshellian pride. They’ve retained a certain independence since early Imperial times. It’s to be admired, actually.”
“Yes, now that it will no longer inconvenience us.”
“Exactly, so it was only necessary to bend our own pride to the point of making some sort of gesture to theirs. I admit it took an effort to decide that I, as Mayor of a Galaxy-straddling Federation, should condescend to visit a provincial star-grouping, but once the decision was made it didn’t hurt too much. And it pleased them. We had to gamble that they would agree to the visit once we moved our ships to the border, but it meant being humble and smiling very broadly.”
Kodell nodded. “We abandoned the appearance of power to preserve the essence of it.”
“Exactly. —Who first said that?”
“I believe it was in one of Eriden’s plays, but I’m not sure. We can ask one of our literary lights back home.”
“If I remember. We must speed the return visit of Sayshellians to Terminus and see to it that they are given the full treatment as equals. And I’m afraid, Liono, you will have to organize tight security for them. There is bound to be some indignation among our hotheads and it would not be wise to subject them to even slight and transient humiliation through protest demonstrations.”
“Absolutely,” said Kodell. “It was a clever stroke, by the way, sending out Trevize.”
“My lightning rod? He worked better than I thought he would, to be honest. He blundered his way into Sayshell and drew their lightning in the form of protests with a speed I could not have believed. Space! What an excellent excuse that made for my visit—concern lest a Foundation national be in any way disturbed and then gratitude for their forbearance.”
“Shrewd! —You don’t think it would have been better, though, to have brought Trevize back with us?”
“No. On the whole, I prefer him anywhere but at home. He would be a disturbing factor on Terminus. His nonsense about the Second Foundation served as the perfect excuse for sending him out and, of course, we counted on Pelorat to lead him to Sayshell, but I don’t want him back, continuing to spread the nonsense. We can never tell what that might lead to.”
Kodell chuckled. “I doubt that we can ever find anyone more gullible than an intellectual academic. I wonder how much Pelorat would have swallowed if we had encouraged him.”
“Belief in the literal existence of the mythical Sayshellian Gaia was quite enough—but forget it. We will have to face the Council when we return and we will need their votes for the Sayshellian treaty. Fortunately we have Trevize’s statement—voiceprint and all—to the effect that he left Terminus voluntarily. I will offer official regrets as to Trevize’s brief arrest and that will satisfy the Council.”
“I can rely on you for the soft soap, Mayor,” said Kodell dryly. “Have you considered, though, that Trevize may continue to search for the Second Foundation?”
“Let him,” said Branno, shrugging, “as long as he doesn’t do it on Terminus. It will keep him busy and get him nowhere. The Second Foundation’s continued existence is our myth of the century, as Gaia is Sayshell’s myth.”
She leaned back and looked positively genial. “And now we have Sayshell in our grip—and by the time they see that, it will be too late for them to break the grip. So the Foundation’s growth continues and will continue, smoothly and regularly.”
“And the credit will be entirely yours, Mayor.”
“That has not escaped my notice,” said Branno, and their ship slipped into hyperspace and reappeared in the neighborhood space of Terminus.
2.
Speaker Stor Gendibal, on his own ship again, had every reason for satisfaction. The encounter with the First Foundation had not lasted long, but it had been thoroughly productive.
He had sent back his message of carefully muted triumph. It was only necessary—for the moment—to let the First Speaker know that all had gone well (as, indeed, he might guess from the fact that the general force of the Second Foundation had never had to be used after all). The details could come later on.
He would describe how a careful—and very minor—adjustment to Mayor Branno’s mind had turned her thoughts from imperialistic grandiosity to the practicality of commercial treaty; how a careful—and rather long-distance—adjustment of the leader of the Sayshell Union had led to an invitation to the Mayor of a parley and how, thereafter, a rapprochement had been reached with no further adjustments at all with Compor returning to Terminus on his own ship, to see that the agreement would be kept. It had been, Gendibal thought complacently, almost a storybook example of large results brought about by minutely crafted mentalics.
It would, he was sure, squash Speaker Delarmi flat and bring about his own elevation to First Speaker very soon after the presentation of the details at a formal meeting of the Table.
And he did not deny to himself the importance of Sura Novi’s presence, though that would not need to be stressed to the Speakers generally. Not only had she been essential to his victory, but she gave him the excuse he now needed for indulging his childish (and very human, for even Speakers are very human) need to exult before what he knew to be a guaranteed admiration.
She did not understand anything that had happened, he knew, but she was aware that he had arranged matters to his liking and she was bursting with pride over that. He caressed the smoothness of her mind and felt the warmth of that pride.
He said, “I could not have done it without you, Novi. It was because of you I could tell that the First Foundation—the people on the large ship—”
“Yes, Master, I know whom you mean.”
“I could tell, because of you, that they had a shield, together with weak powers of the mind. From the effect on your mind, I could tell, exactly, the characteristics of both. I could tell how most efficiently to penetrate the one and deflect the other.”
Novi said tentatively, “I do not understand exactly what it is you say, Master, but I would have done much more to help, if I could.”
“I know that, Novi. But what you did was enough. It is amazing how dangerous they might have been. But caught now, before either their shield or their field had been developed more strongly, they could be stopped. The Mayor goes back now, the shield and the field forgotten, satisfied over the fact that she has obtained a commercial treaty with Sayshell that will make it a working part of the Federation. I don’t deny that there is much more to do to dismantle the work they have done on shield and field—it is something concerning which we have been remiss—but it will be done.”