All that haze of nebula was a mass of stars so numerous that they melted one into the other and left nothing but a cloud of light.
And all to be his-
And now but one last arrangement to make, and he could sleep.
First Interlude
The Executive Council of the Second Foundation was in session. To us they are merely voices. Neither the exact scene of the meeting nor the identity of those present are essential at the point.
Nor, strictly speaking, can we even consider an exact reproduction of any part of the session - unless we wish to sacrifice completely even the minimum comprehensibility we have a right to expect.
We deal here with psychologists - and not merely psychologists. Let us say, rather, scientists with a psychological orientation. That is, men whose fundamental conception of scientific philosophy is pointed in an entirely different direction from all of the orientations we know. The "psychology" of scientists brought up among the axioms deduced from the observational habits of physical science has only the vaguest relationship to PSYCHOLOGY.
Which is about as far as I can go in explaining color to a blind man - with myself as blind as the audience.
The point being made is that the minds assembled understood thoroughly the workings of each other, not only by general theory but by the specific application over a long period of these theories to particular individuals. Speech as known to us was unnecessary. A fragment of a sentence amounted almost to long-winded redundancy. A gesture, a grunt, the curve of a facial line - even a significantly timed pause yielded informational juice.
The liberty is taken, therefore, of freely translating a small portion of the conference into the extremely specific word-combinations necessary to minds oriented from childhood to a physical science philosophy, even at the risk of losing the more delicate nuances.
There was one "voice" predominant, and that belonged to the individual known simply as the First Speaker.
He said: "It is apparently quite definite now as to what stopped the Mule in his first mad rush. I can't say that the matter reflects credit upon… well, upon the organization of the situation. Apparently, he almost located us, by means of the artificially heightened brain-energy of what they call a 'psychologist' on the First Foundation. This psychologist was killed just before he could communicate his discovery to the Mule. The events leading to that killing were completely fortuitous for all calculations below Phase Three. Suppose you take over."
It was the Fifth Speaker who was indicated by an inflection of the voice. He said, in grim nuances: "It is certain that the situation was mishandled. We are, of course, highly vulnerable under mass attack, particularly an attack led by such a mental phenomenon as the Mule. Shortly after he first achieved Galactic eminence with the conquest of the First Foundation, half a year after to be exact, he was on Trantor. Within another half year he would have been here and the odds would have been stupendously against us - 96.3 plus or minus 0.05% to be exact. We have spent considerable time analyzing the forces that stopped him. We know, of course, what was driving him on so in the first place. The internal ramifications of his physical deformity and mental uniqueness are obvious to all of us. However, it was only through penetration to Phase Three that we could determine - after the fact - tbe possibility of his anomalous action in the presence of another human being who had an honest affection for him.
"And since such an anomalous action would depend upon the presence of such another human being at the appropriate time, to that extent the whole affair was fortuitous. Our agents are certain that it was a girl that killed the Mule's psychologist - a girl for whom the Mule felt trust out of sentiment, and whom he, therefore, did not control mentally - simply because she liked him.
"Since that event - and for those who want the details, a mathematical treatment of the subject has been drawn up for the Central Library - which warned us, we have held the Mule off by unorthodox methods with which we daily risk SeIdon's entire scheme of history. That is all."
The First Speaker paused an instant to allow the individuals assembled to absorb the full implications. He said: "The situation is then highly unstable. With Seldon's original scheme bent to the fracture point - and I must emphasize that we have blundered badly in this whole matter, in our horrible lack of foresight - we are faced with an irreversible breakdown of the Plan. Time is passing us by. I think there is only one solution left us - and even that is risky.
"We must allow the Mule to find us - in a sense."
Another pause, in which he gathered the reactions, then: "I repeat - in a sense!"
2. Two Men without the Mule
The ship was in near-readiness. Nothing lacked, but the destination. The Mule had suggested a return to Trantor - the world that was the bulk of an incomparable Galactic metropolis of the hugest Empire mankind had ever known - the dead world that had been capital of all the stars.
Pritcher disapproved. It was an old path - sucked dry.
He found Bail Channis in the ship's navigation room. The young man's curly hair was just sufficiently disheveled to allow a single curl to droop over the forehead - as if it had been carefully placed there - and even teeth showed in a smile that matched it. Vaguely, the stiff officer felt himself harden against the other.
Channis' excitement was evident, "Pritcher, it's too far a coincidence."
The general said coldly: "I’m not aware of the subject of conversation."
"Oh- Well, then drag up a chair, old man, and let’s get into it. I've been going over your notes. I find them excellent."
"How… pleasant that you do."
"But I’m wondering if you've come to the conclusions I have. Have you ever tried analyzing the problem deductively? I mean, it's all very well to comb the stars at random, and to have done all you did in five expeditions is quite a bit of star-hopping. That's obvious. But have you calculated how long it would take to go through every known world at this rate?"
"Yes. Several times," Pritcher felt no urge to meet the young man halfway, but there was the importance of filching the other's mind - the other's uncontrolled, and hence, unpredictable, mind.
"Well, then, suppose we're analytical about it and try to decide just what we're looking for?"
"The Second Foundation," said Pritcher, grimly.
"A Foundation of psychologists," corrected Channis, "who are as weak in physical science as the First Foundation was weak in psychology. Well, you're from the First Foundation, which I'm not. The implications are probably obvious to you. We must find a world which rules by virtue of mental skills, and yet which is very backwards scientifically."
"Is that necessarily so?" questioned Pritcher, quietly. "Our own ‘Union of Worlds' isn't backwards scientifically, even though our ruler owes his strength to his mental powers."
"Because he has the skills of the First Foundation to draw upon," came the slightly impatient answer, "and that is the only such reservoir of knowledge in the Galaxy. The Second Foundation must live among the dry crumbs of the broken Galactic Empire. There are no pickings there."
"So then you postulate mental power sufficient to establish their rule over a group of worlds and physical helplessness as well?"