by Isaac Asimov
Trevize slowly took the man by the front of his shirt and hoisted him out of his seat. Voltaire offered no resistance. Very coldly Trevize asked, “And the purpose of this implant?”
The man responded as if he was still sitting unmolested. “To guide you,” he said. “To make it appear as if you know things that you could not possibly know. To-”
Trevize swung around and threw Voltaire down towards the center of the room, over several rows of seats in front of him. Various spectators vanished briefly to make way for the projectile, reappearing once he had passed, until Voltaire landed half across two rows in a position that would certainly have broken several bones.
Trevize knew better than to think he had done any real damage, but it had still made him feel better. He again got up to leave, this time finding no one blocking his path. He walked to the nearest exit, the debate between Branno and himself still going on as if nothing had happened.
Making his way through the various anterooms Trevize refused to think about what this Voltaire had said. It was lies, all of it. But as he reached the outside and the steps down to the street, there the man was again, waiting for him. Trevize didn’t even acknowledge him, but Voltaire followed him down the steps, keeping up with him easily.
“Did you really think,” he asked, “that you were truly infallible? Yes, there were all the times things seemed not to make sense otherwise. But you never bothered to ask why, did you? I nudged you here and there, but I never dampened your curiosity. So why is it you never stopped to ask, ‘how can this be?’”
Trevize slowed slightly. It was true. Too many times in his life his intuition had guided him, told him the right path when there wasn’t enough information for him to know. At first he had suspected nothing, just that he was lucky. Only after years had he come to really believe there was something more going on, and truly trust it. But he never asked why.
“You enjoyed thinking that you were somehow better than those around you, didn’t you?”
Trevize sped up his pace again. This Voltaire, whatever he was, was right about many things. But he was also severely annoying. Trevize took a turn, headed towards a section of the city he didn’t know. Voltaire was standing in his path. Trevize immediately turned around only to find Voltaire there again.
Before Trevize could again try to evade him, Voltaire spoke. “Daneel Olivaw has spent centuries looking for someone infallible,” he said, “on the slight chance that in all the variation of humanity such a person might actually exist. Knowing that, certain other parties tried to create exactly what he was looking for. Thousands of children were implanted with copies of me, but apparently every other one eventually ran into some situation where I couldn’t help. Only you, through sheer dumb luck, succeeded in appearing to be what Daneel was looking for.”
Trevize understood. “And then you revealed me at the worst possible moment for Daneel,” he said. “You used me, my entire life, as a tool to undermine him.” Voltaire nodded.
Golan Trevize was nothing special. He was born no different than others. There were even thousands of others with the same implant as him. His life had been a product of... luck. A deep fury began to overtake him.
“And now what?” Trevize demanded. “Are you going to leave me alone to go my merry way? If you’ve really been in my head as long as you have, you know I’ll do everything in my power to make those that did this to me pay. Just as soon as I get you out of my head.” Trevize stepped around Voltaire and began to walk away again, in no particular direction.
“You won’t have to go to much trouble on my account,” Voltaire said, following this time. “I had no illusions going into this that I would want to live with what I would become. We used you to accomplish our own ends. We became what we hated, in order to stop what we saw as a greater evil. Whether we’ve accomplished what we set out to do remains to be seen. But the fact of what we had to do to you, our... sin, remains.”
“What makes you think I care about your little story?” Trevize demanded. “If you’re going to die, then just die and leave me in peace.”
“Because I can tell you who else did this to you.”
Trevize stopped. “You’d betray them?” he asked, quietly.
“They feel just as guilty as I do,” Voltaire replied. “If allowing you the freedom to take revenge is necessary to make up for what we did to you, then so be it. It is your choice. But I have one condition.”
“And what is that?”
“Listen.”
Chapter 11
MILITARY HISTORY OF THE FOUNDATION-... BY 400 FE, THE FOUNDATION UNQUESTIONABLY DOMINATED THE GALACTIC MILITARY SCENE. EVEN THOUGH THE COMBINED MILITARIES OF THE REST OF THE GALAXY OUTMASSED THE FOUNDATION FLEET FOR ANOTHER THREE CENTURIES, THE FOUNDATION’S TECHNOLOGICAL EDGE RENDERED THIS MOOT. FROM THIS POINT ON, EVEN HAD THE GALAXY AT LARGE COMBINED FORCES AGAINST THE FOUNDATION, THEY WOULD HAVE STOOD ALM NO CHANCE. INDEED, BY THIS POINT THE ONLY FORCES IN THE GALAXY WITH ANY HOPE OF STANDING AGAINST THE FOUNDATION FLEET WERE...
NOVI OPENED HER eyes to find that the view before her was different than when she had closed them. She had meant to rest for only a moment; her eyes were totally unused to the effort of reading, though she had kept at it as long as she could. Who knew reading would be so enjoyable? But now she was no longer in her cell. And the book was gone! Novi looked around frantically for a moment. Books were rare, and Stor had lent it to her.
Then Novi recognized where she was. This was Stor’s ship. At least, it was the Second Foundation ship in which they had traveled together for so long. She had been someone else then, but all the memories were still there. Good memories, of his kindness. Almost absently, Novi reached out for Gaia, and was rebuffed. She had expected no different.
Novi tried to think through the situation; she was so much slower than she used to be. She was alive, and she was on a ship. Being alive meant that she was more use than threat to the Second Foundation. And being on the ship meant she was being taken somewhere. And there was only one place anyone could want to take her! Novi had no way of knowing how long she had been unconscious; for all she knew she might be home already!
Gendibal had to know she was awake. She began to search the ship for him. With such a small vessel it didn’t take long. He was seated at the controls, facing the front of the ship, away from her, but she knew he was waiting for her.
“How long?” she asked, trying to remain calm.
“You’ve been unconscious for about twelve hours,” he answered, without turning. “We’re approaching our first hyperspace jump.”
Novi tried not to be disappointed. The many days it would take them to reach Gaia didn’t matter, she told herself. She had succeeded. The Second Foundation was willing to talk. And she on her way back to Gaia. Stor was talking her home.
“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you, Stor.”
Novi didn’t expect him to say more, and turned to go back to her room. But now he turned his chair around to face her, and she turned back to him. With a slight start, Novi realized that her book was sitting in the seat next to his. Why would he have brought it?
And then she realized. There was no reason for Stor to needher awake. He simply wanted her awake. Novi felt tears well up in her eyes.
“Stay with me, Novi. Talk to me. Please.”
Novi picked up the book, set it aside. She sat down, and they began to talk.
And unknown to Novi, their ship was followed by dozens of others. The sizes and capabilities of each were widely different, but the ships did not matter as much as the people on them. The Second Foundation was coming to Gaia. This time there would be no mistakes. If Gaia’s answers were unsatisfactory, there would be war, and the Second Foundation meant to win.
“Madam Mayor!”
Branno snapped out of her reverie and focused on General Albian, standing at attention beside her. Day by day she was finding it easier to function. But now, standing once again in the busy command center of a ship of the line, she felt he
rself slipping. This was where many of her false memories took place. This is real, she reminded herself for the tenth time.
“Yes, General?” she replied without any hesitation.
Albian dropped his salute. “The technician crew has arrived, ma’am. Their chief had a message for you. He said, and I quote, ‘fifteen’.”
Fifteen. Not enough. A bare fraction of the massive fleet now assembled in orbit of Terminus. But it was far better than one, and infinitely better than nothing.
“Very good, General.” Albian didn’t display a shred of curiosity as to what the message might mean. Branno had difficulty placing Albian, which was unusual for her. On the surface he seemed a peaceful man, content to command a fleet that had not seen war in his lifetime. But every so often she would see a hint of something underneath, some trace of a peacetime officer hoping for glory.
Well, if he had wishes of that sort, perhaps they were about to be granted.
“When can the fleet be ready to depart, General?” The technicians would have to install the mentalic shields en route.
“We are prepared to leave Terminus at any time,” the general replied. “What destination, madam Mayor?”
So Albian, at least, had not been fooled by the cover story of a military parade. But enough others had been that she had been asked no questions as yet. “The Sayshell Union, General. We will be visiting every system they have, as rapidly as possible. I will brief you on the details shortly.” Of course, she would tell him well before he needed to know; keeping Albian in the dark was simply asking for trouble.
The general saluted again and immediately went to work issuing orders to his subordinates. Branno tuned him out. She had as little need to know the details of his job as Albian had to know the reasons behind her orders. Instead she looked towards the door at the rear of the command center. Kodell was there, of course. He hadn’t been the last time Branno looked, but she knew from long experience that he would be now, waiting for her to notice him.
Normally he came to her when he was spotted. This time, however, she approached him. Kodell didn’t seem at all surprised. “Madam Mayor,” he said as she came to stand near him.
“Don’t pretend you’re just standing here, Kodell. What is it?” He had done a good job of handling the flow of information over the last few days, concocting their cover story for such sudden fleet movements. He seemed almost back to his normal self. But after his outburst in the time vault, Branno knew better than to trust him fully.
Kodell looked at Branno for a moment before answering, as if trying to estimate her reaction. “Our cover should hold until we reach the borders of Sayshell,” he said. “Have you considered how the media will react when they realize things are not as they seem?”
“Once we’ve accomplished our mission, we’ll make our reasons public,” Branno replied. “That should silence any objections, both at home at in Sayshell.” An unprovoked invasion of a new ally would severely damage the Foundation’s reputation across the galaxy, but the final, conclusive destruction of the Second Foundation would justify much in the eyes of many. Especially on Terminus.
“And if Sayshell responds militarily?” Before the Vault it would have seemed that Kodell was just doing his job, making sure every angle had been considered. But she knew better. The man was reaching now, looking for something, anything to keep this from happening.
Branno saw that Albian happened to be standing within earshot, giving orders to a junior officer. “General,” Branno called to him. “Would you kindly provide an analysis of Sayshell’s relative military strength?”
The General answered from where he stood. “Insignificant, madam Mayor, both in numbers and technology. Their entire military force could be defeated by six ships of the line, with minimal chance of friendly casualties. Shall we add military targets to the fleet’s agenda, ma’am?”
Branno looked back at Kodell’s expressionless face. “No, General,” she replied. “The Sayshell Union isn’t stupid enough to try and fight a fleet of this size. They’ll let us go about our business.”
The General turned back to his business. “Any other objections, Liono?” Branno asked pointedly.
Kodell returned her look, and Branno thought she saw sadness in his face. He could definitely not be trusted. “No, madam Mayor,” he finally replied.
Branno held his gaze for a moment more, then turned away. “General,” she called again. “You may execute when ready. Move the fleet out.”
Chapter 12
ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE-... AND WHILE THE FOUNDATION BEGAN WITH A THOROUGH KNOWLEDGE OF ALL EXTANT IMPERIAL SCIENCE AND TECHNOLOGY, IN OTHER LONG-ABANDONED FIELDS THE RESEARCHERS OF TERMINUS WERE NOT SO LUCKY. AS THE EMPIRE HAD LONG BANNED ANY RESEARCH INTO MACHINE THOUGHT, EVEN TO THE POINT OF DESTROYING ALL PAST WORK IN THE SUBJECT, THE FOUNDATION HAD LITTLE TO START WITH. EVEN AFTER THE MILLENIA-LONG TABOOS REGARDING THE SUBJECT WERE FINALLY OVERCOME, IT WAS STILL CENTURIES BEFORE THE FOUNDATION SIGNIFICANTLY EXTENDED THE STATE OF THE ART, AND EVEN TODAY...
ZUN STOOD AS Bliss entered the room. Seeing there was no one else present, she sat down in the chair across the table from the robot. She said nothing. Zun had requested her presence in the polite way typical of robots. Bliss had her suspicions, but best to let him declare what he wished to discuss.
Zun sat down himself. He had spent long preparing for this conversation, but he had little information from which to compute likely results; he was nervous. Gaia was still a significant variable to him. He did not have the connection to them that Daneel had had. Nor, at this point, did he wish for it.
“Thank you for coming,” he began. “I must apologize for having left you and your companions alone for so long. We needed to keep you safe while we established control of the situation.”
“We understand,” Bliss replied. Zun knew she meant more than herself and Pelorat. “Are we to understand that you are now in charge here?”
“I am,” Zun said. “Let me assure you that Councilman Trevize is resting comfortably. I take it you are aware of the implant we found in his brain?”
Bliss nodded. “Will he be all right?” she asked, her concern visible.
“He is stable,” Zun replied. “However, Yan and Zorma have yet to be able to wake him. They are formulating a plan to deactivate the implant, but I hope you will understand that Daneel is presently taking priority. He requires immediate attention.” When Bliss did not respond to this for a moment, Zun tried to estimate what her pause meant, whether she objected to the prioritization of Daneel. He tried to plan accordingly, but again, his probability calculations meant nothing here.
“And how is Daneel?” Bliss finally asked.
“Not well,” Zun said. “The only hope of preserving any portion of his personality is the merger with Fallom. Preparations are presently underway. We will need Fallom shortly.”
Once again Bliss could not hide her sadness from Zun. He decided to change the subject.
“I realize this entire situation must be problematic for Gaia,” he said. “It is obvious that someone has tried to manipulate your decision. We Giskardians have the greatest motivation for doing so. You must find it very difficult to trust us at this point.”
“We found it difficult the moment we knew of your existence,” Bliss answered. “Daneel has apparently been able to control us for some time. His claims of wanting to relinquish that control were most impressive, but how can we be sure?” Bliss cocked her head slightly, giving Zun an appraising look. “And you, Zun? How can we know of you?”
Zun had known she would ask, just as Bliss must have known the only answer he could give. He said nothing, merely nodded.
Zun felt her in his mind immediately. She was searching, probing. Zun was again faced with the near-panic he had experienced earlier. But this time, it lasted longer. Much longer. Zun felt his hands gripping the chair, and stopped them. He shut down his motion overlay, stopping his body from reacting at all. He waited in agony, knowing he had no choice but to tr
ust Gaia’s skill to save him from destruction. This was the only way they would ever trust him.
Finally, several seconds later, an eternity later, Bliss withdrew. After a few seconds more, Zun reengaged his motor control, opened his eyes and looked at her. Bliss, still with her eyes closed, spoke. “Thank you,” she said. “I know that was difficult for you.”
“Gaia’s trust is worth any risk,” Zun replied, a bit shaky from the intrusion, but recovering. No damage seemed to have been done. It was the simple truth. Without Gaia’s trust, all Giskardians would be rendered irrelevant to humanity’s future.
Bliss opened her eyes. “You have it,” she said. “We are convinced that you, Zun, are willing to work with us, not use us. Daneel chose his successor well.”
Neither spoke for a moment. Zun used the time to further regain his equilibrium. “There is something you should know,” Bliss finally said.
Zun sat in silence as Bliss told him about the impending attack, how Gaia faced danger on both physical and mentalic fronts, and how, if necessary, Gaia might sacrifice itself to keep the Foundations intact.
“You must defend yourselves,” Zun said when she was finished. This new idea of Gaia’s self-sacrifice was totally unacceptable. “The Seldon Plan may not succeed in overcoming Chaos, even if you leave them undamaged. Gaia will, by its very nature.”
“We agree,” Bliss said. “Yet, in defending ourselves, we would kill thousands directly, including much of the leadership of both Foundations. Gutting the Foundations would almost certainly result in the deaths of trillions, regardless of any future action on Gaia’s part. We can not accept that. Gaia needs a third option, Zun. Do you have any resources that might be of help?”
Zun considered for several seconds, considering the possibilities. “I’m sorry,” he said. “We are few, and these events were not foreseen. I will confer with my agents, but if what you say is true, I do not believe there is anything we can do to prevent the attack from coming. We will do our best, but if we fail, Gaia must defend itself.”