“That was useful to us.”
“Yes, as it happened. His next betrayal, however, might not be.”
“Why should there be another?”
“Come, Liono,” said Branno impatiently, “don't play games with me. Anyone who displays a capacity for double-dealing must forever be suspected of being capable of displaying it again.”
“He may use the capability to combine with Trevize once again. Together, they may…”
“You don't believe that. With all his folly and naivete, Trevize goes straight for his goal. He does not understand betrayal and he will never, under any circumstances, trust Compor a second time.”
Kodell said, “Pardon me, Mayor, but let me make sure I follow your thinking. How far, then, can you trust Compor? How do you know he will follow Trevize and report honestly? Do you count on his fears for the welfare of his wife as a restraint? His longing to return to her?”
“Both are factors, but I don't entirely rely on that. On Compor's ship there will be a hyper-relay. Trevize would suspect pursuit and would search for one. However Compor—being the pursuer—will, I assume, not suspect pursuit and will not search for one.—Of course, if he does, and if he finds it, then we must depend on the attractions of his wife.”
Kodell laughed. “To think I once had to give you lessons. And the purpose of the pursuit?”
“A double layer of protection. If Trevize is caught, it may be that
Compor will carry on and give us the information that Trevize will not be able to.”
“One more question. What if, by some chance, Trevize finds the Second Foundation, and we learn of it through him, or through Compor, or if we gain reason to suspect its existence—despite the deaths of both?”
“I'm hoping the Second Foundation does exist, Liono,” she said. “In any case, the Seldon Plan is not going to serve us much longer. The great Hari Seldon devised it in the dying days of the Empire, when technological advance had virtually stopped. Seldon was a product of his times, too, and however brilliant this semimythical science of psychohistory must have been, it could not rise out of its roots. It surely would not allow for raid technological advance. The Foundation has been achieving that, especially in this last century. We have mass-detection devices of a kind undreamed of earlier, computers that can respond to thought, and—most of all—mental shielding. The Second Foundation cannot control us for much longer, if they can do so now. I want, in my final years in power, to be the one to start Terminus on a new path.”
“And if there is, in fact, no Second Foundation?”
“Then we start on a new path at once.”
The troubled sleep that had finally come to Trevize did not last long. A touch on his shoulder was repeated a second time.
Trevize started up, bleary and utterly failing to understand why he should be in a strange bed. “What—What—?”
Pelorat said to him apologetically, “I'm sorry, Councilman Trevize. You are my guest and I owe you rest, but the Mayor is here.” He was standing at the side of the bed in flannel pajamas and shivering slightly. Trevize's senses leaped to a weary wakefulness and he remembered.
The Mayor was in Pelorat's living room, looking as composed as always. Kodell was with her, rubbing lightly at his white mustache.
Trevize adjusted his sash to the proper snugness and wondered how long the two of them—Branno and Kodell—were ever apart.
Trevize said mockingly, “ Has the Council recovered yet? Are its members concerned over the absence of one of them?”
The Mayor said, “There are signs of life, yes, but not enough to do you any good. There is no question but that I still have the power to force you to leave. You will be taken to Ultimate Spaceport…”
“Not Terminus Spaceport, Madam Mayor? Am I to be deprived of a proper farewell from weeping thousands?”
“I see you have recovered your penchant for teenage silliness, Councilman, and I am pleased. It stills what might otherwise be a certain rising twinge of conscience. At Ultimate Spaceport, you and Professor Pelorat will leave quietly.”
“And never return?”
“And perhaps never return. Of course,” and here she smiled briefly, “if you discover something of so great an importance and usefulness that even I will be glad to have you back with your information, you will return. You may even be treated with honor.”
Trevize nodded casually, “That may happen.”
“Almost anything may happen.—In any case, you will be comfortable. You are being assigned a recently completed pocket-cruiser, the Far Star, named for Hober Mallow's cruiser. One person can handle it, though it will hold as many as three with reasonable comfort.”
Trevize was jolted out of his carefully assumed mood of light irony. “Fully armed?”
“Unarmed but otherwise fully equipped. Wherever you go, you will be citizens of the Foundation and there will always be a consul to whom you can turn, so you will not require arms. You will be able to draw on funds at need.—Not unlimited funds, I might add.”
“You are generous.”
“I know that, Councilman. But, Councilman, understand me. You are helping Professor Pelorat search for Earth. Whatever you think you are searching for, you are searching for Earth. All whom you meet must understand that. And always remember that the Far Star is not armed.”
“I am searching for Earth;” said Trevize. “I understand that perfectly.”
“Then you will go now.”
“Pardon me, but surely there is more to all of this than we have discussed. I have piloted ships in my time, but I have had no experience with a late-model pocket-cruiser. What if I cannot pilot it?”
“I am told that the Far Star is thoroughly computerized.—And before you ask, you don't have to know how to handle a late-model ship's computer. It will itself tell you anything you need to know. Is there anything else you need?”
Trevize looked down at himself ruefully. “A change of clothing.”
“You will find them on board ship. Including those girdles you wear, or sashes, whichever they are called. The professor is also supplied with what he needs. Everything reasonable is already aboard, although I hasten to add that this does not include female companions.”
“Too bad,” said Trevize. “It would be pleasant, but then, I have no likely candidate at the moment, as it happens. Still, I presume the Galaxy is populous and that once away from here I may do as I Please.”
“With regard to companions? Suit yourself.”
She rose heavily. “I will not take you to the spaceport,” she said, “but there are those who will, and you must make no effort to do anything you are not told to do. I believe they will kill you if you make an effort to escape. The fact that I will not be with them will remove any inhibition.”
Trevize said, “I will make no unauthorized effort, Madam Mayor, but one thing…”
“Yes?”
Trevize searched his mind rapidly and finally said with a smile that he very much hoped looked unforced, “The time may come, Madam Mayor, when you will ask me for an effort. I will then do as I choose, but I will remember the past two days.”
Mayor Branno sighed. “Spare me the melodrama. If the time comes, it will come, but for now—I am asking for nothing.”
CHAPTER FOUR.
SPACE
The ship looked even more impressive than Trevize—with his memories of the time when the new cruiser-class had been glowingly publicized—had expected.
It was not the size that was impressive—for it was rather small. It was designed for maneuverability and speed, for totally gravitic engines, and most of all for advanced computerization. It didn't need size—size would have defeated its purpose.
It was a one-man device that could replace, with advantage, the older ships that required a crew of a dozen or more. With a second or even a third person to establish shifts of duty, one such ship could fight off a flotilla of much larger non-Foundation ships. In addition, it could outspeed and escape from any other ship in existence.