PROLOGUE
The Galactic Empire Was Falling.

It was a colossal Empire, stretching across millions of worlds from arm-end to arm-end of the mighty multi-spiral that was the Milky Way. Its fall was colossal, too ?and a long one, for it had a long way to go.

It had been falling for centuries before one man became really aware of that fall. That man was Hari Seldon, the man who represented the one spark of creative effort left among the gathering decay. He developed and brought to its highest pitch the science of psychohistory.

Psychohistory dealt not with man, but with man-masses. It was the science of mobs; mobs in their billions. It could forecast reactions to stimuli with something of the accuracy that a lesser science could bring to the forecast of a rebound of a billiard ball. The reaction of one man could be forecast by no known mathematics; the reaction of a billion is something else again.

Hari Seldon plotted the social and economic trends of the time, sighted along the curves and foresaw the continuing and accelerating fall of civilization and the gap of thirty thousand years that must elapse before a struggling new Empire could emerge from the ruins.

It was too late to stop that fall, but not too late to narrow the gap of barbarism. Seldon established two Foundations at "opposite ends of the Galaxy" and their location was so designed that in one short millennium events would knit and mesh so as to force out of them a stronger, more permanent, more benevolent Second Empire.

Foundation (Gnome Press, 1951) has told the story of one of those Foundations during the first two centuries of life.

It began as a settlement of physical scientists on Terminus, a planet at the extreme end of one of the spiral arms of the Galaxy. Separated from the turmoil of the Empire, they worked as compilers of a universal compendium of knowledge, the Encyclopedia Galactica, unaware of the deeper role planned for them by the already-dead Seldon,

As the Empire rotted, the outer regions fell into the hands of independent "kings." The Foundation was threatened by them. However, by playing one petty ruler against another, under the leadership of their first mayor, Salvor Hardin, they maintained a precarious independence. As sole possessors, of nuclear power among worlds which were losing their sciences and falling back on coal and oil, they even established an ascendancy. The Foundation became the "religious" center of the neighboring kingdoms.

Slowly, the Foundation developed a trading economy as the Encyclopedia receded into the background. Their Traders, dealing in nuclear gadgets which not even the Empire in its heyday could have duplicated for compactness, penetrated hundreds of light-years through the Periphery.

Under Hober Mallow, the first of the Foundation's Merchant Princes, they developed the techniques of economic warfare to the point of defeating the Republic of Korell, even though that world was receiving support from one of the outer provinces of what was left of the Empire.

At the end of two hundred years, the Foundation was the most powerful state in the Galaxy, except for the remains of the Empire, which, concentrated in the inner third of the Milky Way, still controlled three quarters of the population and wealth of the Universe.

It seemed inevitable that the next danger the Foundation would have to face was the final lash of the dying Empire.

The way must he cleared for the battle of Foundation and Empire.
序幕
　　银河帝国正在崩溃瓦解之中。
这是一个庞大的帝国，疆域涵盖整个银河系。从银河巨大螺旋臂的某一端到另一端，其间所包含的数百万个世界，皆为帝国的势力范围。因而帝国的没落衰亡，也是一个巨大而漫长的历史过程。
当崩溃无声无息地进行了数个世纪之后，才终于有人察觉到了这个事实。这个人就是哈里•谢顿，他代表了在整体式微的文化中，唯一冒起的一点创造性火花。在谢顿的手中，心理史学这门科学发展到了出神人化、登峰造极的境界。
心理史学的研究对象并非个人，而是人类所构成的群体。也就是说，它是研究群众——至少数十亿之众的科学。它可以预测群众对于某些刺激的反应，其精确度绝不逊于物理学对于撞球反弹轨迹的预测，但其博大精深犹有过之。虽然直到目前为止，还没有数学能够预测个人的任何行为，然而对于数十亿人口的集体反应，心理史学却能精确地掌握其中的动向。
哈里•谢顿将当时的社会与经济趋势，做了整体的归纳整理。由这些发展曲线中，他看出了帝国的文明一直在加速衰退，最后注定一切文明终将化成废墟，而且必须经过三万年的艰苦过渡时期，才会再有一个崭新的帝国出现。
阻止帝国的崩溃为时已晚，但是想要将那一段蛮荒的过渡期缩短，当时仍然犹有可为。于是，谢顿建立了两个基地，分别置于“银河中两个遥相对峙的端点”。它们的位置经过特别的计算，在短短的一个千年之间，许多重大的历史事件便会一环扣一环地发生。经由这些历史的发展，就可以促使一个更强大、更巩固、更良善的第二帝国早日实现。
在《基地》这本书中所叙述的故事，就是关于其中的一个基地，在这个千年的头两个世纪间的历史。
这个基地设立于端点星，该行星位于银河某个螺旋臂的尽头。起初，基地是一群被放逐的科学家定居之所。他们远离了帝国动荡不安的社会，进行汇集天地间所有知识的巨着——《银河百科全书》的编纂工作，却不知道自己身负一个更重要、更深远的任务。而这个任务，才是已故的谢顿真正要他们执行的计划。
随着帝国势力的渐渐衰落，银河外围的区域纷纷独立，成为许多“王国”割据的局面，基地也开始遭受这些王国的威胁。然而，在首任市长塞佛•哈定的领导之下，基地采取饱相牵制的策略，勉强维持了岌岌可危的独立局面。由于其他世界的科学中落，文明退化到石油与煤炭的时代，唯独基地拥有核能，因此基地藉着这个优势，终于凌驾邻近诸王国之上，成为诸王国的“宗教”中心。
随着百科全书的任务退居幕后，基地开始慢慢发展对外贸易。基地所研发的核能装置，其精巧程度远超过帝国全盛时期的工艺水准，行商负责将这些核能商品推销到各个世界，他们的足迹遍至银河外缘数百光年的星空。
侯伯•马洛是基地的第一位商业王侯，在他的领导之下，基地发展出了经济战的模式。第一个实验对象是柯瑞尔共和国，该共和国虽然拥有来自帝国外缘星省的援助，最后仍然被迫无条件投降。
基地建立两百年之后，几乎已经成为银河系中最强大的政权，只有仍在苟延残喘的帝国能够与之抗衡。此时，帝国集中于银河内围三分之一处，但仍然控制着整个银河四分之三的人口与财富。
基地将要面临的下一个威胁，似乎必然是垂死帝国的最后反扑。
基地与帝国之战，无论如何终将登场……
PART I  THE GENERAL
1. SEARCH FOR MAGICIANS

BEL RIOSE .... 
In his relatively short career, Riose earned the title of "The Last of the Imperials" and earned it well. A study of his campaigns reveals him to be the equal of Peurifoy in strategic ability and his superior perhaps in his ability to handle men. That he was born in the days of the decline of Empire made it all but impossible for him to equal Peurifoy's record as a conqueror. Yet he had his chance when, the first of the Empire's generals to do so, he faced the Foundation squarely....

ENCYCLOPEDIA GALACTICA*

*All quotations from the Encyclopedia Galactica here reproduced are taken from the 116th Edition published in 1020 F.E. by the Encyclopedia Galactica Publishing Co., Terminus, with permission of the publishers.

Bel Riose traveled without escort, which is not what court etiquette prescribes for the head of a fleet stationed in a yet-sullen stellar system on the Marches of the Galactic Empire.

But Bel Riose was young and energetic ?energetic enough to be sent as near the end of the universe as possible by an unemotional and calculating court ?and curious besides. Strange and improbable tales fancifully-repeated by hundreds and murkily-known to thousands intrigued the last faculty; the possibility of a military venture engaged the other two. The combination was overpowering.

He was out of the dowdy ground-car he had appropriated and at the door of the fading mansion that was his destination. He waited. The photonic eye that spanned the doorway was alive, but when the door opened it was by hand.

Bel Riose smiled at the old man. "I am Riose?

"I recognize you." The old man remained stiffly and unsurprised in his place. "Your business?"

Riose withdrew a step in a gesture of submission. "One of peace. If you are Ducem Barr, I ask the favor of conversation."

Ducem Barr stepped aside and in the interior of the house the walls glowed into life, The general entered into daylight.

He touched the wall of the study, then stared at his fingertips. "You have this on Siwenna?"

Barr smiled thinly. "Not elsewhere, I believe. I keep this in repair myself as well as I can. I must apologize for your wait at the door. The automatic device registers the presence of a visitor but will no longer open the door."

"Your repairs fall short?" The general's voice was faintly mocking.

"Parts are no longer available. If you will sit, sir. You drink tea?"

"On Siwenna? My good sir, it is socially impossible not to drink it here."

The old patrician retreated noiselessly with a slow bow that was part of the ceremonious legacy left by the aristocracy of the last century's better days.

Riose looked after his host's departing figure, and his studied urbanity grew a bit uncertain at the edges. His education had been purely military; his experience likewise. He had, as the clich閭 has it, faced death many times; but always death of a very familiar and tangible nature, Consequently, there is no inconsistency in the fact that the idolized lion of the Twentieth Fleet felt chilled in the suddenly musty atmosphere of an ancient room.

The general recognized the small black-ivroid boxes that lined the shelves to be books. Their titles were unfamiliar. He guessed that the large structure at one end of the room was the receiver that transmuted the books into sight-and-sound on demand. He had never seen one in operation; but he had heard of them.

Once he had been told that long before, during the golden ages when the Empire had been co-extensive with the entire Galaxy, nine houses out of every ten had such receivers ?and such rows of books.

But there were borders to watch now; books were for old men. And half the stories told about the old days were mythical anyway. More than half.

The tea arrived, and Riose seated himself. Ducem Barr lifted his cup. "To your honor."

"Thank you. To yours."

Ducem Barr said deliberately, "You are said to be young. Thirty-five?"

"Near enough. Thirty-four."

"In that case," said Barr, with soft emphasis, "I could not begin better than by informing you regretfully that I am not in the possession of love charms, potions, or philtres. Nor am I in the least capable of influencing the favors of any young lady as may appeal to you."

"I have no need of artificial aids in that respect, sir." The complacency undeniably present in the general's voice was stirred with amusement. "Do you receive many requests for such commodities?"

"Enough. Unfortunately, an uninformed public tends to confuse scholarship with magicianry, and love life seems to be that factor which requires the largest quantity of magical tinkering."

"And so would seem most natural. But I differ. I connect scholarship with nothing but the means of answering difficult questions."

The Siwennian considered somberly, "You may be as wrong as they!"

"That may turn out or not." The young general set down his cup in its flaring sheath and it refilled. He dropped the offered flavor-capsule into it with a small splash. "Tell me then, patrician, who are the magicians? The real ones."

Barr seemed startled at a title long-unused. He said, "There are no magicians."

"But people speak of them. Siwenna crawls with the tales of them. There are cults being built about them. There is some strange connection between it and those groups among your countrymen who dream and drivel of ancient days and what they call liberty and autonomy. Eventually the matter might become a danger to the State."

The old man shook his head. "Why ask me? Do you smell rebellion, with myself at the head?"

Riose shrugged, "Never. Never. Oh, it is not a thought completely ridiculous. Your father was an exile in his day; you yourself a patriot and a chauvinist in yours. It is indelicate in me as a guest to mention it, but my business here requires it. And yet a conspiracy now? I doubt it. Siwenna has had the spirit beat out of it these three generations."

The old man replied with difficulty, "I shall be as indelicate a host as you a guest. I shall remind you that once a viceroy thought as you did of the spiritless Siwennians. By the orders of that viceroy my father became a fugitive pauper, my brothers martyrs, and my sister a suicide. Yet that viceroy died a death sufficiently horrible at the hands of these same slavish Siwennians."

"Ah, yes, and there you touch nearly on something I could wish to say. For three years the mysterious death of that viceroy has been no mystery to me. There was a young soldier of his personal guard whose actions were of interest. You were that soldier, but there is no need of details, I think."

Barr was quiet. "None. What do you propose?"

"That you answer my questions."

"Not under threats. I am old enough for life not to mean particularly overmuch."

"My good sir, these are hard times," said Riose, with meaning, "and you have children and friends. You have a country for which you have mouthed phrases of love and folly in the past. Come, if I should decide to use force, my aim would not be so poor as to strike you."

Barr said coldly, "What do you want?"

Riose held the empty cup as he spoke. "Patrician, listen to me. These are days when the most successful soldiers are those whose function is to lead the dress parades that wind through the imperial palace grounds on feast days and to escort the sparkling pleasure ships that carry His Imperial Splendor to the summer planets. I ... I am a failure. I am a failure at thirty-four, and I shall stay a failure. Because, you see, I like to fight.

"That's why they sent me here. I'm too troublesome at court. I don't fit in with the etiquette. I offend the dandies and the lord admirals, but I'm too good a leader of ships and men to be disposed of shortly be being marooned in space. So Siwenna is the substitute. It's a frontier world; a rebellious and a barren province. It is far away, far enough away to satisfy all.

"And so I moulder. There are no rebellions to stamp down, and the border viceroys do not revolt lately, at least, not since His Imperial Majesty's late father of glorious memory made an example of Mountel of Paramay."

"A strong Emperor," muttered Barr.

"Yes, and we need more of them. He is my master; remember that. These are his interests I guard."

Barr shrugged unconcernedly. "How does all this relate to the subject?"

"I'll show you in two words. The magicians I've mentioned come from beyond-out there beyond the frontier guards, where the stars are scattered thinly?

"'Where the stars are scattered thinly,"' quoted Barr, "'And the cold of space seeps in."'

"Is that poetry?" Riose frowned. Verse seemed frivolous at the moment. "In any case, they're from the Periphery ?from the only quarter where I am free to fight for the glory of the Emperor."

"And thus serve His Imperial Majesty's interests and satisfy your own love of a good fight."

"Exactly. But I must know what I fight; and there you can help."

"How do you know?"

Riose nibbled casually at a cakelet. "Because for three years I have traced every rumor, every myth, every breath concerning the magicians ?and of all the library of information I have gathered, only two isolated facts are unanimously agreed upon, and are hence certainly true. The first is that the magicians come from the edge of the Galaxy opposite Siwenna; the second is that your father once met a magician, alive and actual, and spoke with him."

The aged Siwennian stared unblinkingly, and Riose continued, "You had better tell me what you know?

Barr said thoughtfully, "It would be interesting to tell you certain things. It would be a psychohistoric experiment of my own."

"What kind of experiment?"

"Psychohistoric." The old man had an unpleasant edge to his smile. Then, crisply, "You'd better have more tea. I'm going to make a bit of a speech."

He leaned far back into the soft cushions of his chair. The wall-lights had softened to a pink-ivory glow, which mellowed even the soldier's hard profile.

Ducem Barr began, "My own knowledge is the result of two accidents; the accidents of being born the son of my father, and of being born the native of my country. It begins over forty years ago, shortly after the great Massacre, when my father was a fugitive in the forests of the South, while I was a gunner in the viceroy's personal fleet. This same viceroy, by the way, who had ordered the Massacre, and who died such a cruel death thereafter."

Barr smiled grimly, and continued, "My father was a Patrician of the Empire and a Senator of Siwenna. His name was Onum Barr."

Riose interrupted impatiently, "I know the circumstances of his exile very well. You needn't elaborate upon it."

The Siwennian ignored him and proceeded without deflection. "During his exile a wanderer came upon him; a merchant from the edge of the Galaxy; a young man who spoke a strange accent, knew nothing of recent Imperial history, and who was protected by an individual force-shield."

"An individual force-shield?" Riose glared. "You speak extravagance. What generator could be powerful enough to condense a shield to the size of a single man? By the Great Galaxy, did he carry five thousand myria-tons of nuclear power-source about with him on a little wheeled gocart?"

Barr said quietly, "This is the magician of whom you hear whispers, stories and myths. The name 'magician' is not lightly earned. He carried no generator large enough to be seen, but not the heaviest weapon you can carry in your hand would have as much as creased the shield he bore."

"Is this all the story there is? Are the magicians born of maunderings of an old man broken by suffering and exile?"

"The story of the magicians antedated even my father, sir. And the proof is more concrete. After leaving my father, this merchant that men call a magician visited a Tech-man at the city to which my father had guided him, and there he left a shield-generator of the type he wore. That generator was retrieved by my father after his return from exile upon the execution of the bloody viceroy. It took a long time to find?

"The generator hangs on the wall behind you, sir. It does not work. It never worked but for the first two days; but if you'll look at it, you will see that no one in the Empire ever designed it."

Bel Riose reached for the belt of linked metal that clung to the curved wall. It came away with a little sucking noise as the tiny adhesion-field broke at the touch of his hand. The ellipsoid at the apex of the belt held his attention. It was the size of a walnut.

"This? he said.

"Was the generator," nodded Barr. "But it was the generator. The secret of its workings are beyond discovery now. Sub-electronic investigations have shown it to be fused into a single lump of metal and not all the most careful study of the diffraction patterns have sufficed to distinguish the discrete parts that had existed before fusion."

"Then your 'proof' still lingers on the frothy border of words backed by no concrete evidence."

Barr shrugged. "You have demanded my knowledge of me and threatened its extortion by force. If you choose to meet it with skepticism, what is that to me? Do you want me to stop?"

"Go on!" said the general, harshly.

"I continued my father's researches after he died, and then the second accident I mentioned came to help me, for Siwenna was well known to Hari Seldon."

"And who is Hari Seldon?"

"Hari Seldon was a scientist of the reign of the Emperor, Daluben IV. He was a psychohistorian; the last and greatest of them all. He once visited Siwenna, when Siwenna was a great commercial center, rich in the arts and sciences."

"Hmph," muttered Riose, sourly, "where is the stagnant planet that does not claim to have been a land of overflowing wealth in older days?"

"The days I speak of are the days of two centuries ago, when the Emperor yet ruled to the uttermost star; when Siwenna was a world of the interior and not a semi-barbarian border province. In those days, Hari Seldon foresaw the decline of Imperial power and the eventual barbarization of the entire Galaxy."

Riose laughed suddenly. "He foresaw that? Then he foresaw wrong, my good scientist. I suppose you call yourself that. Why, the Empire is more powerful now than it has been in a millennium. Your old eyes are blinded by the cold bleakness of the border. Come to the inner worlds some day; come to the warmth and the wealth of the center."

The old man shook his head somberly. "Circulation ceases first at the outer edges. It will take a while yet for the decay to reach the heart. That is, the apparent, obvious-to-all decay, as distinct from the inner decay that is an old story of some fifteen centuries."

"And so this Hari Seldon foresaw a Galaxy of uniform barbarism," said Riose, good-humoredly. "And what then, eh?"

"So he established two foundations at the extreme opposing ends of the Galaxy ?Foundations of the best, and the youngest, and the strongest, there to breed, grow, and develop. The worlds on which they were placed were chosen carefully; as were the times and the surroundings. All was arranged in such a way that the future as foreseen by the unalterable mathematics of psychohistory would involve their early isolation from the main body of Imperial civilization and their gradual growth into the germs of the Second Galactic Empire ?cutting an inevitable barbarian interregnum from thirty thousand years to scarcely a single thousand."

"And where did you find out all this? You seem to know it in detail."

"I don't and never did," said the patrician with composure. "It is the painful result of the piecing together of certain evidence discovered by my father and a little more found by myself. The basis is flimsy and the superstructure has been romanticized into existence to fill the huge gaps. But I am convinced that it is essentially true."

"You are easily convinced."

"Am I? It has taken forty years of research."

"Hmph. Forty years! I could settle the question in forty days. In fact, I believe I ought to. It would be ?different."

"And how would you do that?"

"In the obvious way. I could become an explorer. I could find this Foundation you speak of and observe with my eyes. You say there are two?"

"The records speak of two. Supporting evidence has been found only for one, which is understandable, for the other is at the extreme end of the long axis of the Galaxy."

"Well, we'll visit the near one." The general was on his feet, adjusting his belt.

"You know where to go?" asked Barr.

"In a way. In the records of the last viceroy but one, he whom you murdered so effectively, there are suspicious tales of outer barbarians. In fact, one of his daughters was given in marriage to a barbarian prince. I'll find my way."

He held out a hand. "I thank you for your hospitality."

Ducem Barr touched the hand with his fingers and bowed formally. "Your visit was a great honor."

"As for the information you gave me," continued Bel Riose, "I'll know how to thank you for that when I return."

Ducem Barr followed his guest submissively to the outer door and said quietly to the disappearing ground-car, "And if you return."
第一部 将军
　贝尔•里欧思……在其短暂的一生中，里欧思赢得了“帝国末代战将”的头衔，这个名号可说是实至名归。
分析他所领导的几场战役，可以看出他的战略修养足以媲美大将勃利佛，而在领导统御方面，也许比后者更为杰出。但是由于生不逢时，使他无法像勃利佛一样，成为一位战功彪炳的征服者。然而，当他与基地正面对峙之时（他是第一位有如此经历的帝国将军），也并非完全没有这个机会……
——《银河百科全书》①
______________________
① 本书所引用的《银河百科全书》资料，皆取自基地纪元一○二○年出版的第一一六版。发行者为端点星银河百科全书出版公司，作者承蒙发行者授权引用。


第一章 寻找魔术师
贝尔•里欧思没有带任何护卫就出门了。这样做其实违反了宫廷的规范，因为他是驻扎在银河帝国边境星系的舰队司令，而这里仍然是个民风强悍的地区。
里欧思年轻而精力旺盛，并且具有强烈的好奇心。就是因为他的精力太过旺盛，宫廷中那些深沉而又精明的大臣，便希望将他派驻得越远越好，因此他才会来到这个边界星省。在此地，他听到了一些新奇而几乎不可置信的传说——他至少听过几百个人说得天花乱坠，而且知道有数千人都像他一样耳熟能详。这些传说的内容使他的好奇心一发不可收拾，也让他想到了采取军事行动的可能性。于是，这位年轻而又精力旺盛的将军，就再也按捺不住了。
现在，他刚走出专用的老旧军车，来到一栋古旧的大宅之前，这里是他此行的目的地。他站在门口等了一下，架设在门上的光眼便后了起来。可是门却不是自动打开，而是由一只手拉开来的。
里欧思对着前来开门的老人，微笑着说：“我是里欧思……”
“我认识你，”老人站在原处不动，一点也没有感到惊讶：“有何贵干吗？”
里欧思礼貌性地退后一步：“我没有任何恶意，如果你就是杜森•巴尔，请允许我跟你谈谈。”
于是杜森•巴尔向一旁侧身，室内墙壁散发出的明后光芒透了出来。里欧思走进屋里，发现自己宛如置身白昼一般。
这位将军跟巴尔走到书房，随手摸了一下墙壁，然后瞪着自己的手指说：“在西维纳竟然也有这种装置？”
巴尔淡淡一笑：“我相信不是到处都有，我自己尽可能修理维护。刚才很抱歉，让你在门口久等，因为自动装置现在只能显示有人到访，却无法将门打开。”
“你修不好了？”将军的声音中有点嘲讽的意思。
“现在找不到零件了。大人，你请坐，要喝茶吗？”
“我的好主人，在西维纳，客人如果不喝杯茶，简直就是对主人的大不敬。”
于是老人缓缓地对里欧思鞠了一个躬，才轻声退出了房间。这算是一种古老的贵族礼仪，是从上个世纪较好的年头流传下来的。
里欧思盯着主人离去的身影，缜密的心思泛起了些许不安。他半生接受军事教育，所有经验都来自军旅生涯。套句老掉牙的说法，他曾经数度出生入死——但至少那些死亡威胁都很具体，而且是他所熟悉的。因此，这位第十二舰队的英雄偶像，竟会在这个古老房间的诡异气氛中，突然感到一股寒意，也就不是什么怪事了。
里欧思注意到在书房一角的架子上，排列着一些黑色的小盒子，他知道那些都是“书”，但是书名他全不熟悉。他也晓得位于房间一侧的那个大型机械就是“阅读机”，可以随时将那些书中的讯息还原成文字与语音。他自己从来没有见过这种装置如何操作，但是曾经听许多人提到过。
有一次他听人提起，说在遥远的过去——当帝国的疆域即是整个银河系的那个黄金时代，平均十个家庭中有九个拥有这种阅读机，当然也都有一排排这一类的书籍。
然而，现在帝国的周围出现了“疆界”，需要他们这些军人驻守，读书早已成了老年人的消遗。不过，他想，关于古老世代的传说，可能有一半都是虚构的，不，绝对超过一半。
直到巴尔将茶端来，里欧思才又重新回到座位。巴尔举起茶杯道：“敬你的荣誉。”
“谢谢你，我也敬你。”
然后巴尔若有深意地说：“听说你很年轻，三十五岁，是吗？”
“差不多，我今年三十四。”
“这么说的话，”巴尔以稍带强调的语气道：“我想最好先对你说明白——很抱歉，我这里没有爱情符咒、痴心灵丹或发情春药这些东西，我也无法令你看中的女子，对你死心塌地、百依百顺。”
“老先生，在这一方面，我绝对不需要什么外力帮助。”在里欧思的声音中，明显地充满了得意与自满：“有很多人向你要求这些东西吗？”
“够多了。真是的，无知的人们常常将学术与魔术混淆不清，而性爱生活又好像特别需要魔术的帮助。”
“这似乎是很自然的现象。但是我却不同，我认为学术唯一的目的，就是用来解答疑难的问题。”
这位西维纳老人神情阴郁地沉思了一会儿，然后才说：“你这种想法，也许错得跟那些人一样严重。”
“这一点很快就可以证实，”年轻的将军将茶杯放入华丽的杯套中，茶杯随即又注满了。他将香料袋轻轻投进杯子里，再说道：“告诉我，老贵族，魔术师究竟是什么人？我指的是真正的魔术师。”
巴尔似乎很久未曾听过这个名称，显得很讶异。但他却回答说：“根本就没有魔术师。”
“但是百姓常常提到。西维纳充满了关于他们的传说，并发展出了崇拜魔术师的教派。而在你的同胞里面，还有人痴心梦想着古老的世代和那些所谓的自由和自治权。这些人与那些教派有着奇妙的牵连。如此发展下去的话，将会对国家的安全构成威胁。”
老人却摇着头说：“你为什么要问我？你闻到了叛变的气息吗？你认为我就是首领吗？
里欧思耸耸肩：“没有，绝对没有。喔，但是这种想法也并不是无稽之谈。令尊当年曾被放逐，而你在年轻的时候，是一个偏激的爱国者。我身为客人，这样说实在很失礼，但这是我的职责所在。现在此地还有任何叛变的阴谋吗？我很怀疑。西维纳人经过了连续三代的改造，心中应该已经没有反抗的念头了。”
老人吃力地回答说：“我身为主人，却也要说几句不中听的话。我要提醒你一件事，当年有一个总督，他的想法跟你一样，也认为西维纳人已经没有反骨了。由于那个总督的倒行逆施，先父成了流亡的乞丐，我的兄长全部变成烈士，我的妹妹自杀身亡。然而，那位总督最后的下场也很凄惨，他就是惨死在所谓卑屈、奴性的西维纳人手中。”
“啊，是啊，你刚好提到了我想说的事。三年以前，我就已经查明了总督惨死的真相——当时他的随身侍卫之中，有一名年轻的军官，他的行动很可疑，而你就是那名军官。我想，不需要我再说细节了吧？”
巴尔镇定地说：“不必了。你有什么建议吗？”
“我只希望你能回答我的问题。”
“如果你想威胁我，我什么都不会说。我已经活够本了，不会向你讨饶的。”
“亲爱的老先生，现在年头实在不对——”里欧思若有所指地说：“你有子女，有朋友，而你也热爱这块土地，过去曾经信誓旦旦要保乡卫土。请别这么激动，如果我决定要动粗，对象也绝不会是你这个糟老头子。”
巴尔冷冷地说：“你到底想要什么？”
里欧思一面端着空杯子，一面说道：“老贵族，你听我说——在如今这个时代，你知道最得势的军人在做些什么吗？每逢有节庆典礼的时候，他们在皇宫的广场前指挥阅兵大典；或者是当大帝出游到避暑行星时，负责在金碧辉煌的皇家游艇旁边护驾。我……我是一个失败者，才三十四岁就如此落魄，这种情况看来根本无法好转，你知道吗？因为我太好战了。
“这就是我会被派驻到此地来的原因，我在宫廷中会惹出太多麻烦。我不能适应宫廷中繁复的礼仪规范，得罪了所有的文臣武将。然而，因为我是一名非常优秀的舰队指挥官，也深受部下的爱戴，这才没有被放逐到太空中去。所以，西维纳成了安置我的最佳地点，这里是个位于边疆的省分，百姓桀骛难驯，土地荒芜贫瘠，离首都又十分遥远。我来到这么遥远的地方，令大家都感到很满意。
“所以我就只好待在这里，任由志气消磨。现在已经没有叛乱需要敉平，边境上其他的总督们，最近也没有任何造反的迹象；至少，自从神圣英武的先皇，在帕拉美的蒙特尔星省杀一儆百之后。”
“他的确是个威武的皇帝。”巴尔喃喃地说。
“没错，我们需要更多这样的皇帝。你要知道，身为大帝的子民，我有责任保卫大帝的一切，为大帝鞠躬尽瘁。”
巴尔似乎不为所动地耸耸肩：“你刚才说的话，跟我们原来讨论的事情又有何相干？”
“我马上就会向你解释。我提到的那些魔术师来自一个遥远的地方——在我们的边境戍卫之外，那儿星辰稀疏……”
“星辰稀疏，”巴尔复述着，然后又继续吟哦：“苍穹寒意，浸染四野……”
“那是一首诗吗？”里欧思皱起眉头，感到这种关头吟诗实在不太得体。然后他又回到正题：“反正他们是从银河外缘来的，我有充分的自由去攻打他们的巢穴，为大帝的光荣而战。”
“这样，你既可为大帝尽忠，又能满足自己的好战欲，对不对？”
“正是如此。但是我先要弄清楚敌人的真面目，而你可以帮我这个忙。”
“你如何肯定我能够帮你？”
里欧思咬了一口小点心，然后说道：“因为在过去的三年间，我追查了有关魔术师的每一项谣言、每一个传说、每一点蛛丝马迹。在我所搜集到的各种资料之中，只有两件事实是一致而没有任何矛盾的，所以这两点应该假不了。第一点，那些魔术师来自西维纳对面的银河边缘；第二点，令尊曾经遇到过一个魔术师——活生生的真人，并且与他面对面交谈过。”
西维纳老人目不转睛地瞪着对方。里欧思继续说道：“你最好把你所知道的事情，全都告诉我。”
巴尔若有深意地说：“其实我也很愿意告诉你一些事，就当作是我自己的心理史学实验，那一定很有趣。”
“你说什么实验？”
“心理史学实验——”老人的笑容掺杂着几丝不悦，然后又很乾脆地说：“你最好再倒点茶，这些事情说来话长。”
巴尔靠回椅背的柔软衬垫上，又将壁光的色彩调节成柔和的粉红色。在这种光线之下，连将军刚直的轮廓也显得柔和一些。
然后巴尔便开始了叙述：“我对这些事情的了解，源自两个巧合，其一是先父恰好见过一位魔术师：其二是西维纳恰好是我的故乡。事情要从四十年前说起，就是在‘大屠杀’之后不久，当时先父逃亡到南方森林，而我在总督的私人舰队中担任炮手。喔，对了，‘大屠杀’就是那位总督下令进行的，他也就是后来惨死的那位总督。”
巴尔冷笑一下，又继续说：“先父是帝国的贵族，也是西维纳星省的议员，他的名字叫作欧南•巴尔。”
里欧思突然不耐烦地打断了巴尔的话：“关于他的流亡生活，我知道得非常清楚，你不必再费心重复了。”
可是巴尔却完全不加理会，仍然自顾自地说：“先父流亡之际，曾经有一个浪人找上门来。他其实是来自银河边缘的一位商人，年纪很轻，说话带有奇怪的口音，对于帝国最近的历史一无所知，并且佩戴着个人力场防护罩防身。”
“个人力场防护罩？”里欧思瞪着巴尔吼道：“你简直吹牛不打草稿。如果真有那种袖珍防护罩，你知道需要多大功率的产生器才行？天啊，他是不是把五千万吨的核能发电机，放在手推车上到处推着走？”
巴尔却镇定地回答道：“你从民众口耳相传的谣言、故事、传说中听到的魔术师就是他，‘魔术师’这个名衔可不是轻易得来的。他身上的防护罩产生器根本小得看不见，可是即使再强力的随身武器，也不能令他的防护罩损伤分毫。”
“这就是你要告诉我的事吗？这会不会是一个颠沛流离的老人，由于精神耗弱而产生的幻想？”
“大人，早在先父有此经历之前，有关魔术师的故事就已经不胫而走了，而且，我还可以提出更具体的证明。那个商人——别人眼中的魔术师，他与先父分手之后，根据先父的指引，到城里去拜访过一名技官。他送给那名技官一个防护罩产生器，跟他自己佩戴的那个属于同一式样。当那个残虐的总督恶贯满盈之后，先父也结束了流亡生涯，他花了很久的时间，终于找到了那个防护罩产生器。
“大人，那个产生器如今就挂在你身后的墙上，它现在已经失灵了，其实，据说它只有最初两天有效。不过你只要仔细看一看，就能够发现，从来没有帝国的工程师曾经设计出这种装置。”
里欧思一转身，就看到了黏附在拱壁上的一个金属腰带。他一把将它从墙壁上扯下来，随着附着场的撕裂，带起了一下轻微的“嘶嘶”声。里欧思将腰带拿在手中，顶端那个胡桃大小的椭圆体吸引了他的注意。
“这是——”他问道。
“这就是防护罩产生器。”巴尔点点头：“不过现在已经失灵了，我们根本没有办法研究它的工作原理。根据电子束探测的结果，发现内部整个熔成一团金属，不论怎样仔细研究那些绕射图样，也无法看得出它原来是由哪些零件构成的。”
“这么说的话，你的‘证明’仍然只是近乎虚无缥缈的言语，根本没有具体的证据支持。”
巴尔耸耸肩：“是你强迫我告诉你一切的，如果你要怀疑我说的话，我又有什么办法？你不想听下去了，是不是？”
“继续说！”将军以严厉的口吻命令。
“先父过世之后，我继续他的研究工作。此时，我所说的第二个巧合发生了作用，因为哈里•谢顿对西维纳极为熟悉。”
“哈里•谢顿又是谁？”
“哈里•谢顿是克里昂一世时代的一位科学家，专攻心理史学，他是最后一位，也是有史以来最伟大的心理史学家。他曾经来西维纳访问过，当时西维纳是一个庞大的商业金融中心，科学与艺术的发展都达到高峰。”
“哼，”里欧思不以为然地嘀咕着：“每一个没落萧条的行星，过去好像都有一段繁盛富庶的光荣历史。”
“我所说的过去是两个世纪之前，当时帝国仍旧统治着银河中每一个天体，西维纳还是一个处于内围的世界，而并非像如今这样，成了半蛮荒的边陲星省。就在那个时候，哈里•谢顿看出了帝国的衰颓之势，并且预见整个银河终将成为一片蛮荒。”
里欧思突然大笑：“他预见了这种事？那他简直大错特错。我的大科学家——我相信你自命是一位科学家，你听好，当今帝国的国势，比过去千年以来任何时期都更强盛。你长年待在遥远荒凉的边区，以致老眼昏花，脑筋也糊涂了。哪天你到内围世界去参观一次，看看银河核心的富庶繁华。”
老人却摇摇头，面带愁容地说：“淤滞的现象首先发生于最外围，经过一段时间之后，衰微才会达到心脏地带。我所说的，是表面上显而易见的衰微现象，不是内在的倾颓，而后者已经悄悄进行了十五个世纪。”
“所以那个哈里•谢顿，就预见了整个银河全部会变作蛮荒世界？”里欧思感到很可笑：“然后呢？啊？”
“所以，他在银河两个遥遥相对的尽头，分别建立了一个基地。这两个基地的成员，都是最优秀、最年轻、最强壮的精英，他们从此在基地中生活、成长、发展。这两个基地的位置和周围的环境，都曾经经过仔细的挑选，连那些人到达基地的时机，都是精密计算的结果。这些精心的安排，是为了配合心理史学的数学对未来所做的准确预测，使基地上的居民，在一开始就脱离帝国文明的主体，然后渐渐独立发展，成为第二银河帝国的种子。如此一来，就能将不可避免的蛮荒过渡时期，从三万年缩短成一个千年。”
“你又是如何发现这些事情的？你似乎知道不少细节。”
“我根本什么也没有发现，从来也没有。”老贵族冷静地说：“我将先父所找到的一些证据，再加上自己找到的一点蛛丝马迹，费尽心血尽可能拼凑起来，就得到了以上这个结论。我的根据并不十分可靠，而许多理论的空白之处，也只好用自己的想像力来填补。不过我深信，大体上来说并没有错。”
“你倒是很容易被自己说服。”
“是吗？我足足花了四十年的光阴。”
“哼，四十年！我只要花四十天，应该就能把这个问题解决掉。事实上，我相信一定做得到，而我得到的答案将会与你的不同。”
“你又打算怎么办呢？”
“用最直接的办法，我决定自己去探索。我可以亲自去把你口中的基地找出来，用我自己的眼睛好好观察一番——你刚才说总共有两个基地？”
“根据文献应该有两个，但是在所有的证据中，都只有其中一个出现。这一点也是可以理解的，因为另一个基地位于银河长轴的另一个极端。”
“好吧，那我们就去探访比较近的那个。”说完将军就站了起来，随手整理了一下腰带。
“你知道怎么去吗？”巴尔问道。
“我自有办法，根据上上一任总督所留下来的纪录——就是你用乾净利落的手法行剠的那位，有些关于外围世界蛮子的可疑记载。事实上，他还曾将自己的一个女儿，下嫁给某个蛮族的君主。我藉着这些资料，一定就能够找到目标。”
然后他伸出手来说：“非常感谢你的热情款待。”
巴尔用手指搭着将军的手，很礼貌地鞠躬行礼：“将军大驾光临，寒舍蓬荜生辉。”
“至于你所提供给我的资料，”里欧思继续说道：“等我回来之后，自然就会知道该如何报答你。”
巴尔恭敬地将客人送到门口，等军车渐渐驶远了，他才轻声地自言自语：“如果——你回得来的话。”
2. THE MAGICIANS  FOUNDATION ...
With forty years of expansion behind them, the Foundation faced the menace of Riose. The epic days of Hardin and Mallow had gone and with them were gone a certain hard daring and resolution....

ENCYCLOPEDIA GALACTICA

There were four men in the room, and the room was set apart where none could approach. The four men looked at each other quickly, then lengthily at the table that separated them. There were four bottles on the table and as many full glasses, but no one had touched them.

And then the man nearest the door stretched out an arm and drummed a slow, padding rhythm on the table.

He said, "Are you going to sit and wonder forever? Does it matter who speaks first?"

"Speak you first, then," said the big man directly opposite. "You're the one who should be the most worried."

Sennett Forell chuckled with noiseless nonhumor. "Because you think I'm the richest. Well ?Or is it that you expect me to continue as I have started. I don't suppose you forget that it was my own Trade Fleet that captured this scout ship of theirs."

"You had the largest fleet," said a third, "and the best pilots; which is another way of saying you are the richest. It was a fearful risk; and would have been greater for one of us."

Sennett Forell chuckled again. "There is a certain facility in risk-taking that I inherit from my father. After all, the essential point in running a risk is that the returns justify it. As to which, witness the fact that the enemy ship was isolated and captured without loss to ourselves or warning to the others."

That Forell was a distant collateral relative of the late great Hober Mallow was recognized openly throughout the Foundation. That he was Mallow's illegitimate son was accepted quietly to just as wide an extent.

The fourth man blinked his little eyes stealthily. Words crept out from between thin lips. "It is nothing to sleep over in fat triumph, this grasping of little ships. Most likely, it will but anger that young man further."

"You think he needs motives?" questioned Forell, scornfully.

"I do, and this might, or will, save him the vexation of having to manufacture one." The fourth man spoke slowly, "Hober Mallow worked otherwise. And Salvor Hardin. They let others take the uncertain paths of force, while they maneuvered surely and quietly."

Forell shrugged. "This ship has proved its value. Motives are cheap and we have sold this one at a profit." There was the satisfaction of the born Trader in that. He continued, "The young man is of the old Empire."

"We knew that," said the second man, the big one, with rumbling discontent.

"We suspected that," corrected Forell, softly. "If a man comes with ships and wealth, with overtures of friendliness, and with offers of trade, it is only sensible to refrain from antagonizing him, until we are certain that the profitable mask is not a face after all. But now?

There was a faint whining edge to the third man's voice as he spoke. "We might have been even more careful. We might have found out first. We might have found out before allowing him to leave. It would have been the truest wisdom."

"That has been discussed and disposed of," said Forell. He waved the subject aside with a flatly final gesture.

"The government is soft," complained the third man. "The mayor is an idiot."

The fourth man looked at the other three in turn and removed the stub of a cigar from his mouth. He dropped it casually into the slot at his right where it disappeared with a silent flash of disruption.

He said sarcastically, "I trust the gentleman who last spoke is speaking through habit only. We can afford to remember here that we are the government."

There was a murmur of agreement.

The fourth man's little eyes were on the table. "Then let us leave government policy alone. This young man ... this stranger might have been a possible customer. There have been cases. All three of you tried to butter him into an advance contract. We have an agreement ?a gentleman's agreement ?against it, but you tried."

"So did you," growled the second man.

I know it," said the fourth, calmly.

"Then let's forget what we should have done earlier," interrupted Forell impatiently, "and continue with what we should do now. In any case, what if we had imprisoned him, or killed him, what then? We are not certain of his intentions even yet, and at the worst, we could not destroy an Empire by snipping short one man's life. There might be navies upon navies waiting just the other side of his nonreturn."

"Exactly," approved the fourth man. "Now what did you get out of your captured ship? I'm too old for all this talking."

"It can be told in a few enough words," said Forell, grimly. "He's an Imperial general or whatever rank corresponds to that over there. He's a young man who has proved his military brilliance ?so I am told ?and who is the idol of his men. Quite a romantic career. The stories they tell of him are no doubt half lies, but even so it makes him out to be a type of wonder man."

"Who are the 'they'?" demanded the second man.

"The crew of the captured ship. Look, I have all their statements recorded on micro-film, which I have in a secure place. Later on, if you wish, you can see them. You can talk to the men yourselves, if you think it necessary. I've told you the essentials."

"How did you get it out of them? How do you know they're telling the truth?"

Forell frowned. "I wasn't gentle, good sir. I knocked them about, drugged them crazy, and used the Probe unmercifully. They talked. You can believe them."

"In the old days," said the third man, with sudden irrelevance, "they would have used pure psychology. Painless, you know, but very sure. No chance of deceit."

"Well, there is a good deal they had in the old days," said Forell, dryly. "These are the new days."

"But," said the fourth man, "what did he want here, this general, this romantic wonder-man?" There was a dogged, weary persistence about him.

Forell glanced at him sharply. "You think he confides the details of state policy to his crew? They didn't know. There was nothing to get out of them in that respect, and I tried, Galaxy knows."

"Which leaves us?

"To draw our own conclusions, obviously." Forell's fingers were tapping quietly again. "The young man is a military leader of the Empire, yet he played the pretense of being a minor princeling of some scattered stars in an odd comer of the Periphery. That alone would assure us that his real motives are such as it would not benefit him to have us know. Combine the nature of his profession with the fact that the Empire has already subsidized one attack upon us in my father's time, and the possibilities become ominous. That first attack failed. I doubt that the Empire owes us love for that."

"There is nothing in your findings," questioned the fourth man guardedly, "that makes for certainty? You are withholding nothing?"

Forell answered levelly, "I can't withhold anything. From here on there can be no question of business rivalry. Unity is forced upon us."

"Patriotism?" There was a sneer in the third man's thin voice.

"Patriotism be damned," said Forell quietly. "Do you think I give two puffs of nuclear emanation for the future Second Empire? Do you think I'd risk a single Trade mission to smooth its path? But ?do you suppose Imperial conquest will help my business or yours? If the Empire wins, there will be a sufficient number of yearning carrion crows to crave the rewards of battle."

"And we're the rewards," added the fourth man, dryly.

The second man broke his silence suddenly, and shifted his bulk angrily, so that the chair creaked under him. "But why talk of that. The Empire can't win, can it? There is Seldon's assurance that we will form the Second Empire in the end. This is only another crisis. There have been three before this."

"Only another crisis, yes!" Forell brooded. "But ?in the case of the first two, we had Salvor Hardin to guide us; in the third, there was Hober Mallow. Whom have we now?"

He looked at the others somberly and continued, "Seldon's rules of psychohistory on which it is so comforting to rely probably have as one of the contributing variables, a certain normal initiative on the part of the people of the Foundation themselves. Seldon's laws help those who help themselves."

"The times make the man," said the third man. "There's another proverb for you."

"You can't count on that, not with absolute assurance," grunted Forell. "Now the way it seems to me is this. If this is the fourth crisis, then Seldon has foreseen it. If he has, then it can be beaten, and there should be a way of doing it.

"Now The Empire is stronger than we; it always has been. But this is the first time we are in danger of its direct attack, so that strength becomes terribly menacing. If it can be beaten, it must be once again as in all past crises by a method other than pure force. We must find the weak side of our enemy and attack it there."

"And what is that weak side?" asked the fourth man. "Do you intend advancing a theory?"

"No. That is the point I'm leading up to. Our great leaders of the past always saw the weak points of their enemies and aimed at that. But now?

There was a helplessness in his voice, and for a moment none volunteered a comment.

Then the fourth man said, "We need spies."

Forell turned to him eagerly. "Right! I don't know when the Empire will attack. There may be time."

"Hober Mallow himself entered the Imperial dominions," suggested the second man.

But Forell shook his head. "Nothing so direct. None of us are precisely youthful; and all of us are rusty with red-tape and administrative detail. We need young men that are in the field now?

"The independent traders?" asked the fourth man.

And Forell nodded his, head and whispered, "If there is yet time?




第二章 魔术师
　　基地……经过了四十年的扩张，基地终于面临里欧思的威胁。
炳定与马洛所代表的英雄时代已经一去不复返，基地人民的勇敢果决精神也早已随之式微……
——《银河百科全书》
这个房间与外界完全隔绝，没有任何外人能够接近。现在，房间中有四个人，他们迅速地互相对望了一下，然后又盯着面前的方桌良久不语。桌上有四个酒瓶，还有四个注满了的酒杯，却没有哪一个人碰过一下。
坐在最接近门口的那个人——森内特•弗瑞尔，忽然伸出手臂，在桌面上敲出一阵缓慢的节奏。
他一边敲着桌子，一边说道：“你们准备在这里呆坐一辈子吗？谁先开口又有什么关系？”
“那么你就先发言吧，”坐在弗瑞尔正对面的大个子说：“我们四个人之间，最该担心的就是你。”
哎瑞尔咯咯冷笑了几声，回嘴道：“因为你以为我最富有？还是因为我先开了口，你就希望我继续说下去？我想你应该还没有忘记，抓到那艘斥候舰的，是我旗下的太空商船队。”
“你拥有最大的船队，”坐在弗瑞尔右首的那人说：“并且拥有最优秀的驾驶员，光就这一点而言，便可以说你是最富有的。这是很可怕的冒险行为，我们几个都无法担当这种风险。”
哎瑞尔又咯咯冷笑了一阵子：“我从父亲那里遗传到了喜爱冒险的天性。总之，冒险本来就是为了追求暴利，这一点，眼前就有一个很好的实例。你们可以看得出来，我们先将敌人的船舰孤立，然后再加以逮捕，自己完全没有损失，也没让它有任何机会发出警告。”
在基地中，所有的人都知道弗瑞尔是伟大的侯伯•马洛旁系的远亲。然而，大家也都心知肚明，他其实是马洛的私生子，只是没有人愿意说破而已。
此时，坐在弗瑞尔左首的那人悄悄眨了眨小眼睛，他的声音从薄薄的嘴唇中吐出来：“这种事情没有什么大不了的利润，我是指抓到那艘小船的这件事。我认为这样做，很可能会更加激怒那个年轻人。”
“你认为他需要任何动机吗？”弗瑞尔以讽刺的口吻问道。
“我的确这么想。而我们这么做，就可能——或者说一定会——替他省却不少功夫，让他捡到一个现成的藉口。”左首那人慢慢地说：“侯伯•马洛的做法却刚好相反，塞佛•哈定也是一样。他们总是让对方采取没有把握的武力途径，而自己却早已胜算在握。”
哎瑞尔耸耸肩：“那艘斥候舰价值非凡——动机的价钱实在没有那么贵，这笔买卖我们其实是赚到了。”
这位天生的生意人显得很满意，又继续说：“那个年轻人来自旧帝国。”
“我们知道这一点。”坐在弗瑞尔对面那个大块头高声吼道，声音中充满了不满的情绪。
“我们只是怀疑这一点。”弗瑞尔轻声纠正他：“如果一个人率领船队，带着财富而来，表明了要与我们建立友谊，并且提议双方进行贸易，我们最好不要对他怀有敌意，直到确定了他的真面目并非如此为止。可是现在……”
右首那个人再度发言，听来有一点发牢骚的味道：“我们应该做得更加小心，应该先将真相弄清楚，弄清楚之后才准许他离开。唯有如此，才能算是真正的深谋远虑。”
“我们讨论过这个提议，可是却否决了。”弗瑞尔说完就断然地挥挥手，表示不愿意再讨论这个问题。
右首那人忽然抱怨：“政府软弱！市长低能！”
左首那人轮流看了看其他三人，又将衔在口中的雪茄头拿开，顺手丢进右边的废物处理槽中。在一阵闪光之后，雪茄头无声无息地消失无踪，然后他才以充满讥讽的口吻说：“我相信这位先生刚才所讲的话，只是不加思索脱口而出。大家不要忘记，我们就是政府。”
另外三人都喃喃表示同意。
左首那人的小眼睛盯着桌子，又继续说道：“现在，让我们把政府的公事暂时摆在一边。其实，这个年轻人……这个异邦人可能是一个好主顾，过去也曾经发生过这种事情。你们三个人都曾试图巴结他，希望预先跟他签一份草约。我们有一个默契——一项君子协定——互相约束不干这种投机的事，可是你们却明知故犯。”
“你还不是一样。”弗瑞尔对面那人反驳道。
“我承认好不好。”左首那人冷静地回答。
“我们别管当初该做、不该做什么吧，”弗瑞尔不耐烦地插口道：“继续讨论我们现在应该做些什么。总之，我们当初如果把他囚禁起来，或者将他杀掉，又会有什么后果呢？直到目前为止，我们还弄不清楚他的真正意图。然而，杀掉一个人绝对不能令帝国毁灭，在边境的另一侧，一定有大批的舰队正在等着他。”
“说得一点都没错，”左首那人表示同意：“那么你从被俘的那艘船舰上发现了什么？我的年纪大了，这样讨论下去实在吃不消。”
“我用几句话就可以说明白。”弗瑞尔绷着脸说：“他是帝国的一名将军，或者有跟将军等级的军衔，是一个很有军事天才的年轻人，部下们都将他奉为英雄偶像，他的经历十分传奇——这些都是我打听出来的。他们告诉我的事情，无疑有一半都是虚构的，然而即使如此，还是可以从中得知，他的确是一个传奇人物。”
“你所说的‘他们’，指的是什么人？”对面那人追问。
“就是那艘船上的人员。我把他们的口供全都记录在微缩胶片上，放在安全的地方，要是你们有兴趣，等一下都可以看一看。如果认为有必要的话，还可以和那些舰员直接谈谈，不过我已经将重点全都转述出来了。”
“你是怎样问出那些话来的？又怎么知道他们说的是实话？”
哎瑞尔皱皱眉：“我对他们可不客气，拳打脚踢之外还配合药物逼供，并且毫不留情地使用心灵探测器。他们个个遍体鳞伤，还几乎精神失常，结果就通通都招了，你可以相信那些口供是真的。”
“在过去那个时代，”右首那人突然说了一些毫不相干的话：“光用心理学的方法，就能让人吐露实情，根本不必叫人吃苦，而且非常可靠，绝对没有让人撒谎的机会。”
“是啊，过去的确有许多好东西，”弗瑞尔冷淡地答道：“不过现在时代不同了。”
左首那人说：“可是他来这里，到底有什么目的？我是说这个将军，这个传奇人物。”他疲倦的声音中充满了固执。
哎瑞尔以锐利的目光瞪着他说：“你以为他会将国家机密透露给部下？他们都不知道，从他们的口中没法问出这些来，老天可以作证，我的确试过。”
“所以我们应该……”
“很明显，我们得自己导出一个结论。”弗瑞尔又开始用手指轻敲桌面：“这个年轻人是帝国的一名军事指挥官，可是他却隐瞒自己的身分，假装是外缘某个偏僻角落，一个小世界中的王子。这一点就可以显示，他绝不希望让我们知道他的真实身分。在我父亲的时代，帝国就已经间接援助过一次对基地的攻击，而如今他这种身分的人又来到这里，这就很可能是个坏兆头。上一次的攻击行动失败了，我不相信帝国会对我们有什么善意。”
左首那人以谨慎的语气问道：“你难道没有发现任何可以确定的事吗？你保证没有对我们保留什么？”
哎瑞尔稳重地回答：“我不会保留任何情报的。从现在开始，我们不应该再为抢生意而勾心斗角，大家一定要团结一致才行。”
“基于爱国心吗？”右首那人微弱的声音中，带着明显的嘲弄。
“爱国心算什么狗屁，”弗瑞尔冷冷地说：“你以为我会为了将来的第二帝国，而愿意拔出九牛一毛吗？你以为我会愿意让任何一批船队冒险为它铺路？但是，你难道认为我们被帝国征服之后，对你我的生意会更有帮助？如果帝国打赢了，不知道有多少贪婪成性的乌鸦，会忙不迭地飞过来要求分享战利品。”
“而我们就是那些战利品。”左首那人以乾涩的声音补充道。
对面那人突然挪动了一下庞大的身躯，压得椅子嘎嘎作响，然后说道：“我们又何必讨论这些呢？帝国绝对不可能赢得了的，对不对？我们有谢顿为我们担保，保证我们最后可以建立第二帝国。目前我们只不过是面临了另一个危机，过去两百年来，我们已经平安地度过了三次危机。”
“只不过是另一个危机，是啊——”弗瑞尔默想了一下，然后再说：“但是在前两个危机发生的时候，我们有塞佛•哈定领导基地度过难关；第三次危机，我们有侯伯•马洛。如今，我们又能指望什么人？”
他露出了忧郁的表情，看看其他人，然后继续说：“心理史学中的几个谢顿定律，一直是我们倚赖的支柱。在这些定律中，也许有一个很重要的变数，在此，就是基地居民本身的主动性。唯有自求多福，谢顿定律方能眷顾。”
“时势造英雄。这句成语也可以用得上。”右首那人说。
“但你不能指望这一点，它并不是百分之百可靠。”弗瑞尔喃喃地抱怨：“现在我的看法是，如果这就是第四次危机，那么谢顿一定早已预见：而只要是在他的算计之中，这个危机就一定能够度过。我们应该找得到对付它的办法。
“帝国一向比我们强大，如今仍旧如此。然而，这是我们第一次面临来自帝国的直接攻击，所以也就特别危险。如果我们有可能安全过关，那么，一定也会像过去那些危机一样，必须借助武力以外的其他办法。我们得先找出敌人的弱点，然后再从那里下手。”
“那么，他们的弱点又是什么呢？”左首那人问：“你想提出一个理论吗？”
“不，我只是想将话题拉到这一点。我们以往的伟大领导者，他们都有办法看出敌人的弱点，然后再予以痛击，可是现在……”。
他的声音中带着无奈的感慨，一时之间没有人愿意搭腔。
终于，左首那人说：“我们需要派人去卧底。”
哎瑞尔转向他，以热切的口吻说：“对！我不知道帝国什么时候会发动攻击，也许我们还有时间。”
“侯伯•马洛曾经亲身潜入帝国的疆域。”对面那人建议道。
哎瑞尔却摇着头说：“没有那么简单，无论如何，我们都已经不再年轻，而且为了行政事务天天案牍劳形，连关节都生銹了。我们需要仍然在这一行活跃的年轻人……”
“独立的行商？”左首那人问。
哎瑞尔这回点点头，并且发出了细小的感叹声：“如果还有时间的话……”
3. THE DEAD HAND
Bel Riose interrupted his annoyed stridings to look up hopefully when his aide entered. "Any word of the Starlet?"

"None. The scouting party has quartered space, but the instruments have detected nothing. Commander Yume has reported that the Fleet is ready for an immediate attack in retaliation."

The general shook his head. "No, not for a patrol ship. Not yet. Tell him to double ?Wait! I'll write out the message. Have it coded and transmitted by tight beam."

He wrote as he talked and thrust the paper at the waiting officer. "Has the Siwennian arrived yet?"

"Not yet."

"Well, see to it that he is brought in here as soon as he does arrive."

The aide saluted crisply and left. Riose resumed his caged stride.

When the door opened a second time, it was Ducem Barr that stood on the threshold. Slowly, in the footsteps of the ushering aide, he stepped into the garish room whose ceiling was an ornamented holographic model of the Galaxy, and in the center of which Bel Riose stood in field uniform.

"Patrician, good day!" The general pushed forward a chair with his foot and gestured the aide away with a "That door is to stay closed till I open it."

He stood before the Siwennian, legs apart, hand grasping wrist behind his back, balancing himself slowly, thoughtfully, on the balls of his feet.

Then, harshly, "Patrician, are you a loyal subject of the Emperor?"

Barr, who had maintained an indifferent silence till then, wrinkled a noncommittal brow. "I have no cause to love Imperial rule."

"Which is a long way from saying that you would be a traitor."

"True. But the mere act of not being a traitor is also a long way from agreeing to be an active helper."

"Ordinarily also true. But to refuse your help at this point," said Riose, deliberately, "will be considered treason and treated as such."

Barr's eyebrows drew together. "Save your verbal cudgels for your subordinates. A simple statement of your needs and wants will suffice me here."

Riose sat down and crossed his legs. "Barr, we had an earlier discussion half a year ago."

"About your magicians?"

"Yes. You remember what I said I would do."

Barr nodded. His arms rested limply in his lap. "You were going to visit them in their haunts, and you've been away these four months. Did you find them?"

"Find them? That I did," cried Riose. His lips were stiff as he spoke. It seemed to require effort to refrain from grinding molars. "Patrician, they are not magicians; they are devils. It is as far from belief as the outer galaxies from here. Conceive it! It is a world the size of a handkerchief, of a fingernail; with resources so petty, power so minute, a population so microscopic as would never suffice the most backward worlds of the dusty prefects of the Dark Stars. Yet with that, a people so proud and ambitious as to dream quietly and methodically of Galactic rule.

"Why, they are so sure of themselves that they do not even hurry. They move slowly, phlegmatically; they speak of necessary centuries. They swallow worlds at leisure; creep through systems with dawdling complacence.

"And they succeed. There is no one to stop them. They have built up a filthy trading community that curls its tentacles about the systems further than their toy ships dare reach. For parsecs, their Traders ?which is what their agents call themselves ?penetrate."

Ducem Barr interrupted the angry flow. "How much of this information is definite; and how much is simply fury?"

The soldier caught his breath and grew calmer. "My fury does not blind me. I tell you I was in worlds nearer to Siwenna than to the Foundation, where the Empire was a myth of the distance, and where Traders were living truths. We ourselves were mistaken for Traders."

"The Foundation itself told you they aimed at Galactic dominion?"

"Told me!" Riose was violent again. "It was not a matter of telling me. The officials said nothing. They spoke business exclusively. But I spoke to ordinary men. I absorbed the ideas of the common folk; their 'manifest destiny,' their calm acceptance of a great future. It is a thing that can't be hidden; a universal optimism they don't even try to hide."

The Siwennian openly displayed a certain quiet satisfaction. "You will notice that so far it would seem to bear out quite accurately my reconstruction of events from the paltry data on the subject that I have gathered."

"It is no doubt," replied Riose with vexed sarcasm, "a tribute to your analytical powers. It is also a hearty and bumptious commentary on the growing danger to the domains of His Imperial Majesty."

Barr shrugged his unconcern, and Riose leaned forward suddenly, to seize the old man's shoulders and stare with curious gentleness into his eyes.

He said, "Now, patrician, none of that. I have no desire to be barbaric. For my part, the legacy of Siwennian hostility to the Imperium is an odious burden, and one which I would do everything in my power to wipe out. But my province is the military and interference in civil affairs is impossible. It would bring about my recall and ruin my usefulness at once. You see that? I know you see that. Between yourself and myself then, let the atrocity of forty years ago be repaid by your vengeance upon its author and so forgotten. I need your help. I frankly admit it."

There was a world of urgency in the young man's voice, but Ducem Barr's head shook gently and deliberately in a negative gesture.

Riose said pleadingly, "You don't understand, patrician, and I doubt my ability to make you. I can't argue on your ground. You're the scholar, not I. But this I can tell you. Whatever you think of the Empire, you will admit its great services. Its armed forces have committed isolated crimes, but in the main they have been a force for peace and civilization. It was the Imperial navy that created the Pax Imperium that ruled over all the Galaxy for thousands of years. Contrast the millennia of peace under the Sun-and-Spaceship of the Empire with the millennia of interstellar anarchy that preceded it. Consider the wars and devastations of those old days and tell me if, with all its faults, the Empire is not worth preserving.

"Consider," he drove on forcefully, "to what the outer fringe of the Galaxy is reduced in these days of their breakaway and independence, and ask yourself if for the sake of a petty revenge you would reduce Siwenna from its position as a province under the protection of a mighty Navy to a barbarian world in a barbarian Galaxy, all immersed in its fragmentary independence and its common degradation and misery."

"Is it so bad ?so soon?" murmured the Siwennian.

"No," admitted Riose. "We would be safe ourselves no doubt, were our lifetimes quadrupled. But it is for the Empire I fight; that, and a military tradition which is something for myself alone, and which I can not transfer to you. It is a military tradition built on the Imperial institution which I serve."

"You are getting mystical, and I always find it difficult to penetrate another person's mysticism."

"No matter. You understand the danger of this Foundation."

"It was I who pointed out what you call the danger before ever you headed outward from Siwenna."

"Then you realize that it must be stopped in embryo or perhaps not at all. You have known of this Foundation before anyone had heard of it. You know more about it than anyone else in the Empire. You probably know how it might best be attacked; and you can probably forewarn me of its countermeasures. Come, let us be friends."

Ducem Barr rose. He said flatly, "Such help as I could give you means nothing. So I will make you free of it in the face of your strenuous demand."

"I will be the judge of its meaning."

"No, I am serious. Not all the might of the Empire could avail to crush this pygmy world."

"Why not?" Bel Riose's eyes glistened fiercely. "No, stay where you are. I'll tell you when you may leave. Why not? If you think I underestimate this enemy I have discovered, you are wrong. Patrician," he spoke reluctantly, "I lost a ship on my return. I have no proof that it fell into the hands of the Foundation; but it has not been located since and were it merely an accident, its dead hulk should, certainly have been found along the route we took. It is not an important loss ?less than the tenth part of a fleabite, but it may mean that the Foundation has already opened hostilities. Such eagerness and such disregard for consequences might mean secret forces of which I know nothing. Can you help me then by answering a specific question? What is their military power?"

"I haven't any notion."

"Then explain yourself on your own terms. Why do you say the Empire can not defeat this small enemy?"

The Siwennian seated himself once more and looked away from Riose's fixed glare. He spoke heavily, "Because I have faith in the principles of psychohistory. It is a strange science. It reached mathematical maturity with one man, Hari Seldon, and died with him, for no man since has been capable of manipulating its intricacies. But in that short period, it proved itself the most powerful instrument ever invented for the study of humanity. Without pretending to predict the actions of individual humans, it formulated definite laws capable of mathematical analysis and extrapolation to govern and predict the mass action of human groups."

"So?

"It was that psychohistory which Seldon and the group he worked with applied in full force to the establishment of the Foundation. The place, time, and conditions all conspire mathematically and so, inevitably, to the development of a Second Galactic Empire."

Riose's voice trembled with indignation. "You mean that this art of his predicts that I would attack the Foundation and lose such and such a battle for such and such a reason? You are trying to say that I am a silly robot following a predetermined course into destruction."

"No," replied the old patrician, sharply. "I have already said that the science had nothing to do with individual actions. It is the vaster background that has been foreseen."

"Then we stand clasped tightly in the forcing hand of the Goddess of Historical Necessity."

"Of Psychohistorical Necessity," prompted Barr, softly.

"And if I exercise my prerogative of freewill? If I choose to attack next year, or not to attack at all? How pliable is the Goddess? How resourceful?"

Barr shrugged. "Attack now or never; with a single ship, or all the force in the Empire; by military force or economic pressure; by candid declaration of war or by treacherous ambush. Do whatever you wish in your fullest exercise of freewill. You will still lose."

"Because of Hari Seldon's dead hand?"

"Because of the dead hand of the mathematics of human behavior that can neither be stopped, swerved, nor delayed."

The two faced each other in deadlock, until the general stepped back.

He said simply, "I'll take that challenge. It's a dead hand against a living will."
第三章 幽灵之手
　　氨官走进来的时候，贝尔•里欧思将军正在办公室中，心事重重地踱着方步。看到了副官，里欧思立刻停下来，满怀希望地抬起头来问：“有没有‘小星号’的消息？”
“报告将军，完全没有。分遣队已经在太空中四处搜寻多时，但是直到目前为止，都还没有侦测出任何结果。尤姆指挥官有报告送过来，说舰队已经做好准备，随时可以进行报复性攻击。”
将军却摇摇头说：“不，犯不着为了一艘巡逻舰这样做，时机还未成熟。告诉他加强——慢着，我自己写一封手令，你将手令译成密码，然后用密封波束传送出去。”
他一面说，一面就将手令写好，顺手交给副官之后，又问道：“那个西维纳人到了没有？”
“报告将军，还没有到。”
“好吧，他到了之后，记得一定立刻带他来见我。”
氨官行了一个标准的军礼之后就离开了，里欧思又继续在房间中来回地踱步。
当房门再度打开时，将军便看到杜森•巴尔站在门口。巴尔跟在副官后面，缓缓地走了进来。在他眼中看来，将军的办公室布置得华丽无比，屋顶还装饰着银河天体的全讯模型。里欧思将军这时穿着野战服，站在房间的中央迎接他。
“老贵族，你好！”将军把一张椅子踢过去，并且挥手示意要副官离去，手势中还有“没有我的命令，谁也不准开门”的意思。
然后将军站在这位西维纳老贵族的面前，双脚分开，两手背在背后，还慢慢地踮起脚尖来，仿佛若有所思的样子。
突然间他厉声问道：“老贵族，你可是大帝陛下的忠诚子民？”
巴尔进门之后，始终维持着淡然的沉默，一直到现在，他才不置可否地蹙着眉回答：“我没有任何理由，应该对帝国的统治心悦诚服。”
“但你至少不会是个叛国者吧。”
“是的，然而不是一个叛国者，也绝不代表就会成为积极的爱国人士。”
“话是没错，但在这个节骨眼上，你如果拒绝帮助我的话——”里欧思若有深意地说：“就会被视为叛国，要受到叛国罪的惩治。”
巴尔的双眉深锁：“你的这种语言暴力，留着对付自己的属下吧。你到底需要什么，又想要我做些什么，直截了当地说就可以了。”
于是里欧思坐下来，翘起二郎腿来说：“巴尔，半年以前，我们曾经讨论过一次。”
“关于你所谓的魔术师？”
“是的，你还记不记得，我说过要做什么？”
巴尔的手臂无力地垂在膝上，点点头说：“你说要去探访他们的巢穴，后来就离开了四个月，你到底找到他们没有？”
里欧思大吼：“找到他们没有？我当然找到了。”他的嘴唇显得很僵硬，咬牙切齿地说：“老贵族，他们不是什么魔术师，简直就是恶魔。他们的所作所为，离谱的程度，就像是其他星系一般遥远得无法想像。你想想看，那个世界差不多只有一块手帕、一片指甲的大小，天然资源和能源极度贫乏，人口又根本微不足道，就连‘黑暗星带’那些微尘般的郡县——那些最落后的世界都比不上。可是，他们那些人却傲慢无比又野心勃勃，成天梦想着有朝一日统治整个银河。
“哼，那群人对自己充满信心，一直好整以暇，绝下轻举妄动，摆明了就是要耗上数个世纪的时间。他们心血来潮的时候，就四处吞并一些世界：平时，则得意洋洋地在各星系间横行无阻。
“而他们一直做得很成功，从来没有人能够阻止他们。他们进而又组织了丑恶的贸易团体，靠着那些行商——他们的贸易商都自称行商——来往许多秒差距的星空，使基地的触角，延伸到了他们自己的迷你太空船不敢去的星系。”
巴尔突然打断对方一发不可收拾的怒气，问道：“你所说的这些，有多少是确定的事情，又有多少只是你的气话？”
将军乘势喘了一口气，情绪稍微平静了一点：“我虽然生气，却没有失去理智。你听好，我所探访的那些世界，其实还很接近西维纳，离基地仍旧很远。但是在那里，帝国的一切已经成了神话传说，而行商却是实实在在的人物，就连我们自己，也被人误认为是行商。”
“基地当局告诉你，说他们志在一统银河？”
“告诉我？”里欧思的怒气又冲了上来：“没有人直接告诉我什么。那些政府官员当然什么也没有说，他们全都是满口的生意经。但是我曾经和普通的民众交谈过，探听到了那些平民的想法——他们的心目中有一个‘自明命运’，他们以平常心接受一个伟大的未来远景。这件事情根本无法遮掩，也根本没有人想遮掩这个大家一致认同的乐观展望。”
西维纳老贵族明显地流露出一种成就感：“你也应该注意到，你刚才所说的这些，跟我利用搜集到的零星资料所做的推测，其实相当吻合，并没有什么出入。”
里欧思以焦急的讽刺口吻回答说：“无庸置疑，这点证明你的分析能力很强。然而，这也是对帝国疆域受到的逐渐升高的威胁，所做的一种过分夸大的评论。”
巴尔不为所动地耸耸肩，里欧思却突然欺近，抓住了老人的肩头，以诡异的温和眼神注视着他。
然后里欧思说：“老贵族，别再说什么了，我根本不想对你动粗。西维纳对于帝国长久以来的敌意，对我而言简直像是芒刺在背，我愿意尽一切力量将它消灭。然而我是一名军事指挥官，不可能介入民间纠纷，否则的话，我缓螈刻被召回，再也无法在此地有所作为。你懂了吗？我知道你已经明白我的意思——既然你早已手刃元凶，就算是扯平了四十年前那场暴行吧。让我们尽释前嫌，我需要你的帮助，我坦白承认的确需要你。”
将军的声音充满了焦急的情绪，但是巴尔却从容地摇着头，表示无法答应他的要求。
里欧思又以近乎哀求的口吻说：“老贵族，你不了解，我大概也没有能力让你搞懂。我无法像你那样说理，你是一个学者，但我却不是。我只能这么说，不论你对帝国的观感如何，你必须承认它的伟大贡献。纵使帝国的军队曾经犯下少数罪行，但是大体来说，这是一支维护和平与文明的军队。数万年以来，银河各处可以享有帝国统治之下的和平，完全都是帝国星际舰队的功劳。如果将帝国星舰与太阳旗帜之下的万年和平，与在此之前数个千年的无政府状态相比，再想想那时候的连年战乱，请你告诉我，纵有众多不是之处，帝国难道不值得我们珍惜吗？”
他再拼命吼道：“你再想想看，这些年来，银河外围的世界四分五裂，一个接着一个独立，可是那些地方衰退到了什么地步？请你扪心自问，仅只是为了你自己微不足道的私仇，你难道就忍心，让西维纳从帝国强大舰队保护下的一个星省，变成一个蛮荒世界，跟银河其他各处一般，成为一片蛮荒——每个世界都相互孤立，全部陷入衰败而悲惨的命运。”
“会那么糟糕——那么快吗？”西维纳老贵族喃喃问道。
“不会的，”里欧思坦然承认：“即使我们的寿命再延长三倍，我们自己也绝对安然无事。然而，我是为这个帝国而战，这是我个人所信奉的军事传统，我没有办法让你体会。这个军事传统，是植基于我所效忠的帝国体制之上。”
“你越说越玄了，对于他人的玄奥思想，我一向都想不透。”
“没有关系，至少你了解这个基地的危险性了。”
“在你还没有从西维纳出发之前，我就已经指出这个所谓的危险性了。”
“这么说的话，你就应该知道，我们必须在这个威胁萌芽之际便将其拔除，否则可能就来不及了。当其他人还不知道基地是什么东西的时候，你就已经对它很有研究；在整个帝国中，你对基地的认识比任何人都来得深。你也许知道如何攻打基地最为有效，也许还能预先警告我对方将采取的防范对策。来，让我们携手一致对外。”
巴尔站起来，断然说道：“我能给你的帮助，其实根本一文不值。所以，不论你如何要求，我也绝不会将自己的意见提供给你。”
“有没有价值，我自己会判断。”
“不，我是说正经的。帝国所有力量加在一起，也无法打垮那个迷你世界。”
“为什么不能？”里欧思的眼睛射出了凶狠的光芒：“别动，给我坐好，我让你走的时候你才能走。老贵族，为什么不能？如果你认为我低估了自己所发现的敌人，那么你就大错特错了。”
他有点不情愿地继续说：“我回来的时候，损失了一艘星舰。我不能证明它落在基地的手中，可是我们一直找不到它的行踪，如果只是单纯的意外事故，沿途必定能够发现一些残骸。这并不是什么了不起的损失——九牛一毛都谈不上，但是却可能代表基地已经对我们宣战。他们那么急切地行动，完全不顾后果，也许意味着他们拥有我所不知道的秘密武器。你能不能帮我一个忙？回答我这个特定的问题就好——他们的武力究竟如何？”
“我连半点概念都没有。”
“那么你就用自己的理论解释一下，为什么你会说帝国无法打败这个小小的敌人？”
西维纳老贵族重新坐下来，避开了里欧思灼灼的目光，以严肃的口吻说：“因为我对心理史学的原理有信心。这是一门很奇奥的科学，它的数学结构在一个人的手中臻于成熟，那个人就是哈里•谢顿，可是也随着他的逝去而成为绝响。从此以后，再也没有人能够处理那么复杂的数学。不过，就在那么一段短短的时间中，它的学术地位已经确立，公认是有史以来研究人类行为最有力的工具。心理史学并不试图预测个人的行为，而是发展出了几个明确的定律，利用这些定律，藉着数学的分析和外推，就能决定并预测人类群体的巨观动向。”
“所以说——”
“谢顿与他手下的一批人，在建立基地的过程中，就是以心理史学作为最高指导原则。不论是基地的位置、时程，或初始的各种状况，部是利用数学精密推算出来的结果。根据这些巧妙的安排，基地必然会发展成为第二银河帝国。”
里欧思的声音因愤怒而颤抖：“那么你的意思是说，他的这门学问，已经预测到了我将进攻基地，然后又会由于某些原因，使我在某个战役中被击败？你是想告诉我说，我会像一个呆板的机器人那样，根据早已决定好的行动，走向注定毁灭的结局？”
“不，”老贵族尖声答道：“我已经说过了，这门科学跟个人行动没有任何关系，它所预见的是巨观的历史背景和趋势。”
“那么，我们都被紧紧捏在‘历史必然性’这个女神的掌心中，丝毫动弹不得喽？”
“是‘心理史学’的必然性。”巴尔轻声纠正。
“如果我运用自己的自由意志来权变呢？如果我决定明年才进攻，或者根本不进攻呢？这个女神的手掌究竟有多大的弹性？她又有多大的法力呢？”
巴尔耸耸肩说：“立刻挥军进攻，或者永远不进攻；动用一艘星舰，或是整个帝国的舰队；用武力战也好，用经济战也罢；光明正大地宣战，或者暗中阴谋发动奇袭——无论你的自由意志如何变通，你终归是要失败的。”
“就是因为有哈里•谢顿的幽灵之手在作祟？”
“是人性行为的数学这个幽灵，这是任何人都无法抵挡、无法扭转，也无法阻延的。”
然后两人对视僵持良久，将军才终于向后退了一步，毅然决然地说：“这是活生生的意志对抗幽灵之手。我愿意接受这个挑战。”
4. THE EMPEROR


CLEON II commonly called "The Great." The last strong Emperor of the First Empire, he is important for the political and artistic renaissance that took place during his long reign. He is best known to romance, however, for his connection with Bel Riose, and to the common man, he is simply "Riose's Emperor." It is important not to allow events of the last year of his reign to overshadow forty years of...

ENCYCLOPEDIA GALACTICA

Cleon II was Lord of the Universe. Cleon II also suffered from a painful and undiagnosed ailment. By the queer twists of human affairs, the two statements are not mutually exclusive, nor even particularly incongruous. There have been a wearisomely large number of precedents in history.

But Cleon II cared nothing for such precedents. To meditate upon a long list of similar cases would not ameliorate personal suffering an electron's worth. It soothed him as little to think that where his great-grandfather had been the pirate ruler of a dust-speck planet, he himself slept in the pleasure palace of Ammenetik the Great, as heir of a line of Galactic rulers stretching backward into a tenuous past. It was at present no source of comfort to him that the efforts of his father had cleansed the realm of its leprous patches of rebellion and restored it to the peace and unity it had enjoyed under Stanel VI; that, as a consequence, in the twenty-five years of his reign, not one cloud of revolt had misted his burnished glory.

The Emperor of the Galaxy and the Lord of All whimpered as he lolled his head backward into the invigorating plane of force about his pillows. It yielded in a softness that did not touch, and at the pleasant tingle, Cleon relaxed a bit. He sat up with difficulty and stared morosely at the distant walls of the grand chamber. It was a bad room to be alone in. It was too big. All the rooms were too big.

But better to be alone during these crippling bouts than to endure the prinking of the courtiers, their lavish sympathy, their soft, condescending dullness. Better to be alone than to watch those insipid masks behind which spun the tortuous speculations on the chances of death and the fortunes of the succession.

His thoughts hurried him. There were his three sons; three straight-backed youths full of promise and virtue. Where did they disappear on these bad days? Waiting, no doubt. Each watching the other; and all watching him.

He stirred uneasily. And now Brodrig craved audience. The low-born, faithful Brodrig; faithful because he was hated with a unanimous and cordial hatred that was the only point of agreement between the dozen cliques that divided his court.

Brodrig ?the faithful favorite, who had to be faithful, since unless he owned the fastest speed-ship in the Galaxy and took to it the day of the Emperor's death, it would be the radiation-chamber the day after.

Cleon II touched the smooth knob on the arm of his great divan, and the huge door at the end of the room dissolved to transparency.

Brodrig advanced along the crimson carpet, and knelt to kiss the Emperor's limp hand.

"Your health, sire?" asked the Privy Secretary in a low tone of becoming anxiety.

"I live," snapped the Emperor with exasperation, "if you can call it life where every scoundrel who can read a book of medicine uses me as a blank and receptive field for his feeble experiments. If there is a conceivable remedy, chemical, physical, or nuclear, which has not yet been tried, why then, some learned babbler from the far comers of the realm will arrive tomorrow to try it. And still another newly-discovered book, or forgery morelike, will be used as authority.

"By my father's memory," he rumbled savagely, "it seems there is not a biped extant who can study a disease before his eyes with those same eyes. There is not one who can count a pulse-beat without a book of the ancients before him. I'm sick and they call it 'unknown.' The fools! If in the course of millennia, human bodies learn new methods of falling askew, it remains uncovered by the studies of the ancients and uncurable forevermore. The ancients should be alive now, or I then."

The Emperor ran down to a low-breathed curse while Brodrig waited dutifully. Cleon II said peevishly, "How many are waiting outside?"

He jerked his head in the direction of the door.

Brodrig said patiently, "The Great Hall holds the usual number."

"Well, let them wait. State matters occupy me. Have the Captain of the Guard announce it. Or wait, forget the state matters. Just have it announced I hold no audience, and let the Captain of the Guard look doleful. The jackals among them may betray themselves." The Emperor sneered nastily.

"There is a rumor, sire," said Brodrig, smoothly, "that it is your heart that troubles you."

The Emperor's smile was little removed from the previous sneer. "It will hurt others more than myself if any act prematurely on that rumor. But what is it you want. Let's have this over."

Brodrig rose from his kneeling posture at a gesture of permission and said, "It concerns General Bel Riose, the Military Governor of Siwenna."

"Riose?" Cleon II frowned heavily. "I don't place him. Wait, is he the one who sent that quixotic message some months back? Yes, I remember. He panted for permission to enter a career of conquest for the glory of the Empire and Emperor."

"Exactly, sire."

The Emperor laughed shortly. "Did you think I had such generals left me, Brodrig? He seems to be a curious atavism. What was the answer? I believe you took care of it."

"I did, sire. He was instructed to forward additional information and to take no steps involving naval action without further orders from the Imperium."

"Hmp. Safe enough. Who is this Riose? Was he ever at court?"

Brodrig nodded and his mouth twisted ever so little. "He began his career as a cadet in the Guards ten years back. He had part in that affair off the Lemul Cluster."

"The Lemul Cluster? You know, my memory isn't quite ?Was that the time a young soldier saved two ships of the line from a head-on collision by ... uh ... something or other?" He waved a hand impatiently. "I don't remember the details. It was something heroic."

"Riose was that soldier. He received a promotion for it," Brodrig said dryly, "and an appointment to field duty as captain of a ship."

"And now Military Governor of a border system and still young. Capable man, Brodrig!"

"Unsafe, sire. He lives in the past. He is a dreamer of ancient times, or rather, of the myths of what ancient times used to be. Such men are harmless in themselves, but their queer lack of realism makes them fools for others." He added, "His men, I understand, are completely under his control. He is one of your popular generals."

"Is he?" the Emperor mused. "Well, come, Brodrig, I would not wish to be served entirely by incompetents. They certainly set no enviable standard for faithfulness themselves."

"An incompetent traitor is no danger. It is rather the capable men who must be watched."

"You among them, Brodrig?" Cleon II laughed and then grimaced with pain. "Well, then, you may forget the lecture for the while. What new development is there in the matter of this young conqueror? I hope you haven't come merely to reminisce."

"Another message, sire, has been received from General Riose."

"Oh? And to what effect?"

"He has spied out the land of these barbarians and advocates an expedition in force. His arguments are long and fairly tedious. It is not worth annoying Your Imperial Majesty with it at present, during your indisposition. Particularly since it will be discussed at length during the session of the Council of Lords." He glanced sidewise at the Emperor.

Cleon II frowned. "The Lords? Is it a question for them, Brodrig? It will mean further demands for a broader interpretation of the Charter. It always comes to that."

"It can't be avoided, sire. It might have been better if your august father could have beaten down the last rebellion without granting the Charter. But since it is here, we must endure it for the while."

"You're right, I suppose. Then the Lords it must be. But why all this solemnity, man? It is, after all, a minor point. Success on a remote border with limited troops is scarcely a state affair."

Brodrig smiled narrowly. He said coolly, "It is an affair of a romantic idiot; but even a romantic idiot can be a deadly weapon when an unromantic rebel uses him as a tool. Sire, the man was popular here and is popular there. He is young. If he annexes a vagrant barbarian planet or two, he will become a conqueror. Now a young conqueror who has proven his ability to rouse the enthusiasm of pilots, miners, tradesmen and suchlike rabble is dangerous at any time. Even if he lacked the desire to do to you as your august father did to the usurper, Ricker, then one of our loyal Lords of the Domain may decide to use him as his weapon."

Cleon II moved an arm hastily and stiffened with pain. Slowly he relaxed, but his smile was weak, and his voice a whisper. "You are a valuable subject, Brodrig. You always suspect far more than is necessary, and I have but to take half your suggested precautions to be utterly safe. We'll put it up to the Lords. We shall see what they say and take our measure accordingly. The young man, I suppose, has made no hostile moves yet."

"He report none. But already he asks for reinforcements."

"Reinforcements!" The Emperor's eyes narrowed with wonder. "What force has he?"

"Ten ships of the line, sire, with a full complement of auxiliary vessels. Two of the ships are equipped with motors salvaged from the old Grand Fleet, and one has a battery of power artillery from the same source. The other ships are new ones of the last fifty years, but are serviceable, nevertheless."

"Ten ships would seem adequate for any reasonable undertaking. Why, with less than ten ships my father won his first victories against the usurper. Who are these barbarians he's fighting?"

The Privy Secretary raised a pair of supercilious eyebrows. "He refers to them as 'the Foundation.'"

"The Foundation? What is it?"

"There is no record of it, sire. I have searched the archives carefully. The area of the Galaxy indicated falls within the ancient province of Anacreon, which two centuries since gave itself up to brigandage, barbarism, and anarchy. There is no planet known as Foundation in the province, however. There was a vague reference to a group of scientists sent to that province just before its separation from our protection. They were to prepare an Encyclopedia." He smiled thinly. "I believe they called it the Encyclopedia Foundation."

"Well," the Emperor considered it somberly, "that seems a tenuous connection to advance."

"I'm not advancing it, sire. No word was ever received from that expedition after the growth of anarchy in that region. If their descendants still live and retain their name, then they have reverted to barbarism most certainly."

"And so he wants reinforcements." The Emperor bent a fierce glance at his secretary. "This is most peculiar; to propose to fight savages with ten ships and to ask for more before a blow is struck. And yet I begin to remember this Riose; he was a handsome boy of loyal family. Brodrig, there are complications in this that I don't penetrate. There may be more importance in it than would seem."

His fingers played idly with the gleaming sheet that covered his stiffened legs. He said, "I need a man out there; one with eyes, brains and loyalty. Brodrig?

The secretary bent a submissive head. "And the ships, sire?"

"Not yet!" The Emperor moaned softly as he shifted his position in gentle stages. He pointed a feeble finger, "Not till we know more. Convene the Council of Lords for this day week. It will be a good opportunity for the new appropriation as well. I'll put that through or lives will end."

He leaned his aching head into the soothing tingle of the force-field pillow, "Go now, Brodrig, and send in the doctor. He's the worst bumbler of the lot."
第四章 皇帝
　　克里昂二世……世称“银河大帝”，是第一帝国最后一位强势皇帝。他最重要的贡献，是在长久执政期间所促成的政治与文艺复兴。
然而，在野史的记载中，最着名的却是他与贝尔•里欧思的关系；而在一般人的心目中，他根本就是“里欧思的皇帝”。
我们不能因为他在位最后一年所发生的事件，而否定了他过去四十年间的……
——《银河百科全书》
克里昂二世是天地间的共主；克里昂二世，正为病因不明的痼疾所苦——人生有许多不可思议的波折，因此上述两件事实并非互相矛盾，甚至也不能算太过不调和。在历史上，这一类的例子简直数也数不清。
然而克里昂二世对那些先例毫不关心，缅怀那一长串同病相怜的帝王将相，根本无法使他身受的痛苦减轻分毫。即使他想到，曾祖父只是一个星尘般的世界上占山为王的土匪，而自己却承继了银河帝国一脉相传的正统，如今正躺在这座安美尼迪克大帝建造的离宫中；父皇曾经在银河各处，消灭了鳞次栉比、此起彼落的叛乱，恢复了帝国的和平与统一，重建了斯达涅尔六世的盛世，因此自己在位这二十五年之间，没有发生过任何令荣誉蒙尘的叛乱事件——所有这些得意的事情，也一样不缓箢他感到一丝一毫的安慰。
现在，这位银河帝国的皇帝、万物的统治者，正在一面哼哼唉唉，一面将后脑沉入枕头上的精力充沛场，享受着一种无形的柔软舒适。在轻微的兴奋剠激中，克里昂二世的病痛稍微减呛笏一点，他吃力地坐了起来，愁眉苦脸地盯着远方的墙壁。这个寝宫太大了，他想，实在不适合一个人待在里面。其实，一个人独处时，任何的房间都显得太大了。
不过，当病痛发作、全身动弹不得的时候，还是独自一个人比较好，至少不必忍受廷臣们俗丽的装扮，还有他们浮滥的同情与卑躬屈膝的蠢行。独自一个人，也就看不到那些令他倒胃口的假面具。他心里明白得很，那些面具底下净是些不怀善意的脸孔，全都在臆测他何时驾崩，还幻想着自己可能有幸继承帝位。
他的思绪开始如脱缰野马般奔腾——他想到自己有三个皇子，三个朝气蓬勃的年轻人，充满了美德与希望。在这些不幸的日子里，他们都跑到哪里去了？都在干些什么呢？他们一定都在等待，三兄弟互相监视，又同时紧盯着他们的父皇。
此时大臣布洛缀克在外求见，克里昂二世不安地挪动着身子，又开始想着这个出身卑微而忠实的布洛缀克。布洛缀克对他忠实，是因为他是朝廷中上上下下一致憎恶的对象——廷臣总共分为十二个派系，彼此明争暗斗永无宁日，而他们唯一的共识，就是全都恨透了这个布洛缀克。
布洛缀克——忠实的宠臣，也就因此必须对大帝加倍忠实。因为在大帝驾崩当日，如果他没办法驾着银河中最快速的星舰远走高飞，铁定会在第二天被送进放射线室处决。
克里昂二世伸出手来，碰了一下巨大躺椅扶手上的光滑圆钮，寝宫一侧的大门立刻消失无踪。
布洛缀克随即沿着深红色地毯走了过来，然后跪在大帝面前，亲吻着大帝软弱无力的手。
“陛下无恙？”在这位枢密大臣的低声问候中，当然还掺杂着适度的焦虑。
“本大帝还活着呢，”大帝很生气地吼道：“如果这还能算是人的生活。那些混蛋，只要认识几个字，看得懂医书，就都敢来混充御医，把本大帝当成活生生的实验品。不论世上发现了什么新的治疗方法，只要是没有经过临床实验的，不管是化学疗法、物理疗法还是核能疗法，那么你等着看吧，明天一定会有自以为是的无聊分子老远跑来，想拿本大帝的生命做实验。或者，不论有什么新发现的医书，尽避看来像是伪造的，都会被他们那些人奉为医学圣典。”
他继续粗暴地咆哮：“本大帝敢向先帝发誓，如今几乎没有一个灵长类，可以用他自己的眼睛诊断病情。每个人都要捧着一本古人的医书，才敢为人把脉量血压。本大帝明明生病了，他们却说‘病因不明’，这些笨蛋！在未来的世代，如果人体中又冒出了什么新的疾病，八成会因为古代的医生从来没有研究过，而永远没有人会医治了。那些古人实在应该生在今日，或者本大帝应该活在古代。”
大帝终于以一句低声的咒骂，结束了长篇大论的牢骚，布洛缀克自始至终都恭谨地在一旁伺候。然后克里昂二世才以不悦的口气问：“有多少人等在外面？”他一面说，一面向大门的方向摆了摆头。
布洛缀克很有耐心地回答：“在大厅中等待觐见的人，和往常一样的多。”
“好，让他们去等吧，就说本大帝正在为许多国事操心，让禁卫军队长去宣布——一下，慢着，别提什么国事了，就宣布说本大帝不接见任何人。让禁卫军队长表现得很悲伤的样子，那些人里面心怀不轨的，就会个个原形毕露。”说完，大帝就露出了阴险的冷笑。
“启禀陛下，外面有一项谣言正在流传，”布洛缀克不疾不徐地说：“说是陛下心脏不舒服。”
大帝脸上的笑意顿时减少了几分：“如果有人相信这个谣言，迫不及待地采取行动，那么他自己一定会先遭殃。可是你又来干什么呢？我们就来谈谈吧。”
布洛缀克看到大帝做了一个起身的手势，这才敢站起来回话：“启禀陛下，是关于西维纳军政府总督，贝尔•里欧思将军的事情。”
“里欧思？”克里昂二世双眉紧锁：“本大帝下记得有这么一个人。等一等，是不是那个在几个月之前，呈上了一份狂想计划的那个将军？是的，我想起来了，他渴望得到本大帝的御准，让他为帝国与皇帝的光荣而征战。”
“启禀陛下，一点都没错。”
大帝冷冷地笑了一声：“布洛缀克，你想本大帝的身边还能有这种将军吗？这个人很有意思，他似乎颇有古风。那份奏章是怎么批的？相信你已经先处理了。”
“启禀陛下，臣已经代为处理了。他接到的命令，是要他继续提供更详细的资料，在陛下还没有颁布其他圣命之前，他旗下的舰队不准轻举妄动。”
“嗯，这样够安全了。这个里欧思，他到底是怎么样的人，有没有在宫廷中当过差？”
布洛缀克点点头，嘴唇还稍微撇了一下：“他最初在禁卫军中担任见习军官，那是十年以前的事情。在列摩星团事件中，他表现不差。”
“列摩星团？你也知道，我的记性不太……喔，是不是一个年轻的军官，阻止了两艘星舰对撞的那件事……嗯……好像是这么回事。”他不耐烦地挥挥手：“我不记得细节了，反正是一件英勇的行为。”
“那个军官就是里欧思，他便因为这件功劳而晋升。”布洛缀克以冷淡的口气说：“于是就被外调到星际舰队，担任一艘星舰的舰长。”
“现在，他则是边境星系的军政府总督，仍然还很年轻。布洛缀克，这是一个很有才干的人。”
“启禀陛下，他实在是个危险人物。他活在过去，无视时代的变迁，他的思想停留在古代，或者应该说，对古代的神话传说充满了梦想。这种爱作白日梦的人，本身倒也没有什么危险，可是他们这样冥顽地不愿接受现实，却会为其他人树立很坏的榜样。”然后布洛缀克又补充说：“臣还知道，他的部下个个对他心悦诚服，百分之百受他掌握，他是陛下最得人望的将军之一。”
“果真如此？”大帝沉思了一下：“嗯，布洛缀克，这样也好。本大帝不希望身边个个都是酒囊饭袋，无能之辈也根本不会对本大帝忠心耿耿。”
“无能的叛徒其实并不危险，那些能干的人，才应该特别加以防范。”
“布洛缀克，你也是其中之一喽？”克里昂二世才刚刚笑了一下，立刻又流露出痛苦的表情：“好吧，你别再说教了。这个年轻的勇将，最近又有什么新的作为？我希望你来觐见，不是专门来提一些陈年旧帐的。”
“启禀陛下，里欧思将军又送来了另一份奏章。”
“哦？关于什么？”
“他已经打探出了那些蛮子的根据地，建议用武力去征服他们。他的报告写得又臭又长，陛下如今御体欠安，不值得为他的奏章烦心。何况在‘贵族会议’中，将会对这件事情做详细的讨论。”说完，布洛缀克向大帝瞥了一眼。
克里昂二世皱着眉说：“贵族？布洛缀克，这种问题跟他们也有关系吗？你知道这样做意味着什么？他们一定会藉此要求扩大解释‘宪章’，每一回总是这个样子。”
“启禀陛下，这是无可避免的事情。当年英明神武的先帝，在敉平最后一场叛乱之际，实在大可不必接受那个宪章。可是既然已经通过了，我们就必须暂且忍耐一阵子。”
“本大帝认为你说得没错，那么这件事必须跟贵族讨论才行。嘿，不过为什么要那么郑重其事？这毕竟只是一件小问题。在遥远的边境，以有限的兵力进行的小辨模征战，根本算不上是国家大事。”
布洛缀克露出一丝微笑，沉着地回答说：“这件事情的主角，是一个不切实际的呆子，可是即使是这么一个不务实的呆子，如果被很务实的叛徒利用，也会成为一个致命的武器。启禀陛下，这个人过去在首都就深得人心，如今到了边境仍然极受拥戴，他又很年轻，如果他吞下了一两个蛮荒的行星，就会成为一位征服者。像他这样年轻的征服者，而且显然又有能力煽动军人、工人、商人，以及其他各阶层群众的情绪，这种人随时随地都可能带来危险。即使他自己，并不想如叛将莱可对付先帝那般对付陛下，然而，我们那些忠心的贵族之中，难免有人会想到拿他当武器。”
克里昂二世突然挥动一下手臂，立刻又感到一阵剧痛，令他全身都僵硬起来。过了好一会儿，他才稍微松弛了一点，但是脸上的笑意几乎完全消失，声音听来如同耳语一般微弱：“布洛缀克，你的确是个很难得的忠臣，你的疑心总是超过实际需要。你对本大帝发出的警告，本大帝只要采纳一半，就绝对保证能够高枕无忧。我们就把这件事情向贵族们提出来，看看他们会怎么说，再决定我们该采取什么策略。那个年轻人，我希望他还没有轻举妄动。”
“他在奏章中说还没有任何行动，可是他已经要求我们增援。”
“增援？”大帝眯起眼睛来，一副大惑不解的神情：“他本身的兵力如何？”
“启禀陛下，他拥有十艘星际战舰，每艘星舰所附属的辅助舰艇都完全满额。其中两艘星舰的发动机，是从旧时‘大舰队’的星舰上拆下来的，此外，还有一艘星舰上的火炮系统也接收自‘大舰队’。其他的星舰则是过去五十年间新建造的，虽然新不如旧，然而还是管用。”
“十艘星舰，应该足够执行任何正当的任务了。哼，父皇当年打败第一批僭位者的时候，手中的星舰还没有那么多。他要去攻打的，究竟是什么样的蛮子？”
枢密大臣扬了扬那一对高傲的眉毛，回答道：“里欧思将那些蛮子的根据地称为‘基地’。”
“基地？那是什么东西？”
“启禀陛下，臣曾经仔细翻查过档案，可是没有发现任何纪录。里欧思所提到的那个地方，位于旧时的安纳克瑞昂星省，在两个世纪之前，该区就陷入了罪恶、蛮荒、无政府的状态。在那个星省中，并没有一个叫作‘基地’的行星。不过，有一则很含糊的纪录——在该星省脱离帝国的保护之前不久，有一群科学家曾经被派到那里去，他们是到那里去编纂一套百科全书。”布洛缀克淡淡一笑：“臣相信，他们管那颗行星叫作气百科全书基地”。”
克里昂二世认真地沉思了一下，然后说：“好了，这么勉强的关联，根本不值得提出来。”
“启禀陛下，臣并没有要提出什么意见。自从该区陷入无政府状态之后，就再也没有那一批科学家的消息。如果他们的后代仍然居住在那个行星上，那么他们无疑也退化到了蛮荒时代。”
“而他还要求增援？”大帝严厉的目光投向宠臣身上：“这可真是太奇怪了，他计划要以十艘星舰攻打那些野蛮人，而在未发一枪一弹之前，就要求增援。我现在终于想起这个里欧思来了，他是一个美男子，出身于忠诚的家族。布洛缀克，这件事情另有蹊跷，我一时还想不透，也许这里头有更重要的问题，但是表面上看不出来。”
他一面抚弄着盖在僵硬的腿上那床发后的被单，一面说：“本大帝得派一个人到那里去，一个眼睛和脑筋都灵光的人，而且还要忠心耿耿，布洛缀克——”
大臣立刻恭谨地垂下头：“启禀陛下，他要求增援的星舰呢？”
“时辰未到！”大帝小心翼翼地一点点挪动着身子，但是仍旧发出了低声的呻吟。他举起一根摇摇欲坠的手指头说：“在我们了解更多的内情之前，不要答应他。下个星期的今天就召开贵族会议，这也是提出新的总预算案的好时机。本大帝一定要让这个预算案通过，否则简直活不下去了。”
说完，大帝将痛得快要裂开的头沉进了力场枕中，头痛在轻微的刺激下稍微舒缓了一点。然后他又对布洛缀克说：“布洛缀克，你退下吧。把御医叫来，虽然他是个最官僚的小角色。”
5. THE WAR BEGINS
From the radiating point of Siwenna, the forces of the Empire reached out cautiously into the black unknown of the Periphery. Giant ships passed the vast distances that separated the vagrant stars at the Galaxy's rim, and felt their way around the outermost edge of Foundation influence.

Worlds isolated in their new barbarism of two centuries felt the sensation once again of Imperial overlords upon their soil. Allegiance was sworn in the face of the massive artillery covering capital cities.

Garrisons were left; garrisons of men in Imperial uniform with the Spaceship-and-Sun insignia upon their shoulders. The old men took notice and remembered once again the forgotten tales of their grandfathers' fathers of the times when the universe was big, and rich, and peaceful and that same Spaceship-and-Sun ruled all.

Then the great ships passed on to weave their line of forward bases further around the Foundation. And as each world was knotted into its proper place in the fabric, the report went back to Bel Riose at the General Headquarters he had established on the rocky barrenness of a wandering sunless planet.

Now Riose relaxed and smiled grimly at Ducem Barr. "Well, what do you think, patrician?"

"I? Of what value are my thoughts? I am not a military man." He took in with one wearily distasteful glance the crowded disorder of the rock-bound room which had been carved out of the wall of a cavern of artificial air, light, and heat which marked the single bubble of life in the vastness of a bleak world.

"For the help I could give you," he muttered, "or would want to give you, you might return me to Siwenna."

"Not yet. Not yet." The general turned his chair to the comer which held the huge, brilliantly-transparent sphere that mapped the old Imperial prefect of Anacreon and its neighboring sectors. "Later, when this is over, you will go back to your books and to more. I'll see to it that the estates of your family are restored to you and to your children for the rest of time."

"Thank you," said Barr, with faint irony, "but I lack your faith in the happy outcome of all this."

Riose laughed harshly, "Don't start your prophetic croakings again. This map speaks louder than all your woeful theories." He caressed its curved invisible outline gently. "Can you read a map in radial projection? You can? Well, here, see for yourself. The stars in gold represent the Imperial territories. The red stars are those in subjection to the Foundation and the pink are those which are probably within the economic sphere of influence. Now watch?

Riose's hand covered a rounded knob, and slowly an area of hard, white pinpoints changed into a deepening blue. Like an inverted cup they folded about the red and the pink.

"Those blue stars have been taken over by my forces," said Riose with quiet satisfaction, "and they still advance. No opposition has appeared anywhere. The barbarians are quiet. And particularly, no opposition has come from Foundation forces. They sleep peacefully and well."

"You spread your force thinly, don't you?" asked Barr.

"As a matter of fact," said Riose, "despite appearances, I don't. The key points which I garrison and fortify are relatively few, but they are carefully chosen. The result is that the force expended is small, but the strategic result great. There are many advantages, more than would ever appear to anyone who hasn't made a careful study of spatial tactics, but it is apparent to anyone, for instance, that I can base an attack from any point in an inclosing sphere, and that when I am finished it will be impossible for the Foundation to attack at flank or rear. I shall have no flank or rear with respect to them.

"This strategy of the Previous Enclosure has been tried before, notably in the campaigns of Loris VI, some two thousand years ago, but always imperfectly; always with the knowledge and attempted interference of the enemy. This is different."

"The ideal textbook case?" Barr's voice was languid and indifferent.

Riose was impatient, "You still think my forces will fail?"

"They must."

"You understand that there is no case in military history where an Enclosure has been completed that the attacking forces have not eventually won, except where an outside Navy exists in sufficient force to break the Enclosure."

"If you say so."

"And you still adhere to your faith."

"Yes."

Riose shrugged. "Then do so."

Barr allowed the angry silence to continue for a moment, then asked quietly, "Have you received an answer from the Emperor?"

Riose removed a cigarette from a wall container behind his head, placed a filter tip between his lips and puffed it aflame carefully. He said, "You mean my request for reinforcements? It came, but that's all. Just the answer."

"No ships."

"None. I half-expected that. Frankly, patrician, I should never have allowed myself to be stampeded by your theories into requesting them in the first place. It puts me in a false light."

"Does it?"

"Definitely. Ships are at a premium. The civil wars of the last two centuries have smashed up more than half of the Grand Fleet and what's left is in pretty shaky condition. You know it isn't as if the ships we build these days are worth anything. I don't think there's a man in the Galaxy today who can build a first-rate hypernuclear motor."

"I knew that," said the Siwennian. His eyes were thoughtful and introspective. "I didn't know that you knew it. So his Imperial Majesty can spare no ships. Psychohistory could have predicted that; in fact, it probably did. I should say that Hari Seldon's dead hand wins the opening round."

Riose answered sharply, "I have enough ships as it is. Your Seldon wins nothing. Should the situation turn more serious, then more ships will be available. As yet, the Emperor does not know all the story."

"Indeed? What haven't you told him?"

"Obviously ?your theories." Riose looked sardonic. "The story is, with all respect to you, inherently improbable. If developments warrant; if events supply me with proof, then, but only then, would I make out the case of mortal danger.

"And in addition," Riose drove on, casually, "the story, unbolstered by fact, has a flavor of lese majeste that could scarcely be pleasant to His Imperial Majesty."

The old patrician smiled. "You mean that telling him his august throne is in danger of subversion by a parcel of ragged barbarians from the ends of the universe is not a warning to be believed or appreciated. Then you expect nothing from him."

"Unless you count a special envoy as something."

"And why a special envoy?"

"It's an old custom. A direct representative of the crown is present on every military campaign which is under government auspices."

"Really? Why?"

"It's a method of preserving the symbol of personal Imperial leadership in all campaigns. It's gained a secondary function of insuring the fidelity of generals. It doesn't always succeed in that respect."

"You'll find that inconvenient, general. Extraneous authority, I mean."

"I don't doubt that," Riose reddened faintly, "but it can't be helped?

The receiver at the general's hand glowed warmly, and with an unobtrusive jar, the cylindered communication popped into its slot. Riose unrolled it, "Good! This is it!"

Ducem Barr raised a mildly questioning eyebrow.

Riose said, "You know we've captured one of these Trader people. Alive ?and with his ship intact."

"I've heard talk of it."

"Well, they've just brought him in, and we'll have him here in a minute. You keep your seat, patrician. I want you here when I'm questioning him. It's why I asked you here today in the first place. You may understand him where I might miss important points."

The door signal sounded and a touch of the general's toe swung the door wide. The man who stood on the threshold was tall and bearded, wore a short coat of a soft, leathery plastic, with an attached hood shoved back on his neck. His hands were free, and if he noticed the men about him were armed, he did not trouble to indicate it.

He stepped in casually, and looked about with calculating eyes. He favored the general with a rudimentary wave of the hand and a half nod.

"Your name?" demanded Riose, crisply.

"Lathan Devers." The trader hooked his thumbs into his wide and gaudy belt. "Are you the boss here?"

"You are a trader of the Foundation?"

"That's right. Listen, if you're the boss, you'd better tell your hired men here to lay off my cargo."

The general raised his head and regarded the prisoner coldly. "Answer questions. Do not volunteer orders."

"All right. I'm agreeable. But one of your boys blasted a two-foot hole in his chest already, by sticking his fingers where he wasn't supposed to."

Riose shifted his gaze to the lieutenant in charge. "Is this man telling the truth? Your report, Vrank, had it that no lives were lost."

"None were, sir," the lieutenant spoke stiffly, apprehensively, "at the time. There was later some disposition to search the ship, there having arisen a rumor that a woman was aboard. Instead, sir, many instruments of unknown nature were located, instruments which the prisoner claims to be his stock in trade. One of them flashed on handling, and the soldier holding it died."

The general turned back to the trader. "Does your ship carry nuclear explosives?"

"Galaxy, no. What for? That fool grabbed a nuclear puncher, wrong end forward and set at maximum dispersion. You're not supposed to do that. Might as well point a neut-gun at your head. I'd have stopped him, if five men weren't sitting on my chest."

Riose gestured at the waiting guard, "You go. The captured ship is to he sealed against all intrusion. Sit down, Devers."

The trader did so, in the spot indicated, and withstood stolidly the hard scrutiny of the Imperial general and the curious glance of the Siwennian patrician.

Riose said, "You're a sensible man, Devers."

"Thank you. Are you impressed by my face, or do you want something? Tell you what, though. I'm a good business man."

"It's about the same thing. You surrendered your ship when you might have decided to waste our ammunition and have yourself blown to electron-dust. It could result in good treatment for you, if you continue that sort of outlook on life."

"Good treatment is what I mostly crave, boss."

"Good, and co-operation is what I mostly crave." Riose smiled, and said in a low aside to Ducem Barr, "I hope the word 'crave' means what I think it does. Did you ever hear such a barbarous jargon?"

Devers said blandly, "Right. I check you. But what kind of co-operation are you talking about, boss? To tell you straight, I don't know where I stand." He looked about him, "Where's this place, for instance, and ?what's the idea?"

"Ah, I've neglected the other half of the introductions. I apologize." Riose was in good humor. "That gentleman is Ducem Barr, Patrician of the Empire. I am Bel Riose, Peer of the Empire, and General of the Third Class in the armed forces of His Imperial Majesty." 

The trader's jaw slackened. Then, "The Empire? I mean the old Empire they taught us about at school? Huh! Funny! I always had the sort of notion that it didn't exist any more."

"Look about you. It does," said Riose grimly.

"Might have known it though," and Lathan Devers pointed his beard at the ceiling. "That was a mightily polished-looking set of craft that took my tub. No kingdom of the Periphery could have turned them out." His brow furrowed. "So what's the game, boss? Or do I call you general?"

"Me game is war."

"Empire versus Foundation, that it?"

"Right."

"Why?"

"I think you know why."

The trader stared sharply and shook his head.

Riose let the other deliberate, then said softly, "I'm sure you know why."

Lathan Devers muttered, "Warm here," and stood up to remove his hooded jacket. Then he sat down again and stretched his legs out before him.

"You know," he said, comfortably, "I figure you're thinking I ought to jump up with a whoop and lay about me. I can catch you before you could move if I choose my time, and this old fellow who sits there and doesn't say anything couldn't do much to stop me."

"But you won't," said Riose, confidently.

"I won't," agreed Devers, amiably. "First off, killing you wouldn't stop the war, I suppose. There are more generals where you came from."

"Very accurately calculated."

"Besides which, I'd probably be slammed down about two seconds after I got you, and killed fast, or maybe slow, depending. But I'd be killed, and I never like to count on that when I'm making plans. It doesn't pay off."

"I said you were a sensible man."

"But there's one thing I would like, boss. I'd like you to tell me what you mean when you say I know why you're jumping us. I don't; and guessing games bother me no end."

"Yes? Ever hear of Hari Seldon?"

"No. I said I don't like guessing games."

Riose flicked a side glance at Ducem Barr who smiled with a narrow gentleness and resumed his inwardly-dreaming expression.

Riose said with a grimace, "Don't you play games, Devers. There is a tradition, or a fable, or sober history ?I don't care what ?upon your Foundation, that eventually you will found the Second Empire. I know quite a detailed version of Hari Seldon's psychohistorical claptrap, and your eventual plans of aggression against the Empire."

"That so?" Devers nodded thoughtfully. "And who told you all that?"

"Does that matter?" said Riose with dangerous smoothness. "You're here to question nothing. I want what you know about the Seldon Fable."

"But if it's a Fable?

"Don't play with words, Devers."

"I'm not. In fact, I'll give it to you straight. You know all I know about it. It's silly stuff, half-baked. Every world has its yams; you can't keep it away from them. Yes, I've heard that sort of talk; Seldon, Second Empire, and so on. They put kids to sleep at night with the stuff. The young squirts curl up in the spare rooms with their pocket projectors and suck up Seldon thrillers. But it's strictly non-adult. Nonintelligent adult, anyway." The trader shook his head.

The Imperial general's eyes were dark. "Is that really so? You waste your lies, man. I've been on the planet, Terminus. I know your Foundation. I've looked it in the face."

"And you ask me? Me, when I haven't kept foot on it for two months at a piece in ten years. You are wasting your time. But go ahead with your war, if it's fables you're after."

And Barr spoke for the first time, mildly, "You are so confident then that the Foundation will win?"

The trader turned. He flushed faintly and an old scar on one temple showed whitely, "Hm-mmm, the silent partner. How'd you squeeze that out of what I said, doc?"

Riose nodded very slightly at Barr, and the Siwennian continued in a low voice, "Because the notion would bother you if you thought your world might lose this war, and suffer the bitter reapings of defeat, I know. My world once did, and still does."

Lathan Devers fumbled his beard, looked from one of his opponents to the other, then laughed shortly. "Does he always talk like that, boss? Listen," he grew serious, "what's defeat? I've seen wars and I've seen defeats. What if the winner does take over? Who's bothered? Me? Guys like me?" He shook his head in derision.

"Get this," the trader spoke forcefully and earnestly, "there are five or six fat slobs who usually run an average planet. They get the rabbit punch, but I'm not losing peace of mind over them. See. The people? The ordinary run of guys? Sure, some get killed, and the rest pay extra taxes for a while. But it settles itself out; it runs itself down. And then it's the old situation again with a different five or six."

Ducem Barr's nostrils flared, and the tendons of his old right hand jerked; but he said nothing.

Lathan Devers' eyes were on him. They missed nothing. He said, "Look. I spend my life in space for my five-and-dime gadgets and my beer-and-pretzel kickback from the Combines. There's fat fellows back there," his thumb jerked over his shoulder and back, "that sit home and collect my year's income every minute ?out of skimmings from me and more like me. Suppose you run the Foundation. You'll still need us. You'll need us more than ever the Combines do ?because you'd not know your way around, and we could bring in the hard cash. We'd make a better deal with the Empire. Yes, we would; and I'm a man of business. If it adds up to a plus mark, I'm for it."

And he stared at the two with sardonic belligerence.

The silence remained unbroken for minutes, and then a cylinder rattled into its slot. The general flipped it open, glanced at the neat printing and in-circuited the visuals with a sweep.

"Prepare plan indicating position of each ship in action. Await orders on full-armed defensive."

He reached for his cape. As he fastened it about his shoulders, he whispered in a stiff-lipped monotone to Barr, "I'm leaving this man to you. I'll expect results. This is war and I can be cruel to failures. Remember!" He left, with a salute to both.

Lathan Devers looked after him, "Well, something's hit him where it hurts. What goes on?"

"A battle, obviously," said Barr, gruffly. "The forces of the Foundation are coming out for their first battle. You'd better come along."

There were armed soldiers in the room. Their bearing was respectful and their faces were hard. Devers followed the proud old Siwennian patriarch out of the room.

The room to which they were led was smaller, barer. It contained two beds, a visi-screen, and shower and sanitary facilities. The soldiers marched out, and the thick door boomed hollowly shut.

"Hmp?" Devers stared disapprovingly about. "This looks permanent."

"It is," said Barr, shortly. The old Siwennian turned his back.

The trader said irritably, "What's your game, doc?"

"I have no game. You're in my charge, that's all."

The trader rose and advanced. His bulk towered over the unmoving patrician. "Yes? But you're in this cell with me and when you were marched here the guns were pointed just as hard at you as at me. Listen, you were all boiled up about my notions on the subject of war and peace."

He waited fruitlessly, "All fight, let me ask you something. You said your country was licked once. By whom? Comet people from the outer nebulae?"

Barr looked up. "By the Empire."

"That so? Then what are you doing here?"

Barr maintained an eloquent silence.

The trader thrust out a lower lip and nodded his head slowly. He slipped off the flat-linked bracelet that hugged his fight wrist and held it out. "What do you think of that?" He wore the mate to it on his left.

The Siwennian took the ornament. He responded slowly to the trader's gesture and put it on. The odd tingling at the wrist passed away quickly.

Devers' voice changed at once. "Right, doc, you've got the action now. Just speak casually. If this room is wired, they won't get a thing. That's a Field Distorter you've got there; genuine Mallow design. Sells for twenty-five credits on any world from here to the outer rim. You get it free. Hold your lips still when you talk and take it easy. You've got to get the trick of it."

Ducem Barr was suddenly weary. The trader's boring eyes were luminous and urging. He felt unequal to their demands.

Barr said, "What do you want?" The words slurred from between unmoving lips.

"I've told you. You make mouth noises like what we call a patriot. Yet your own world has been mashed up by the Empire, and here you are playing ball with the Empire's fair-haired general. Doesn't make sense, does it?"

Barr said, "I have done my part. A conquering Imperial viceroy is dead because of me."

"That so? Recently?"

"Forty years ago."

"Forty ... years ... ago!" The words seemed to have meaning to the trader. He frowned, "That's a long time to live on memories. Does that young squirt in the general's uniform know about it?"

Barr nodded.

Devers' eyes were dark with thought. "You want the Empire to win?"

And the old Siwennian patrician broke out in sudden deep anger, "May the Empire and all its works perish in universal catastrophe. All Siwenna prays that daily. I had brothers once, a sister, a father. But I have children now, grandchildren. The general knows where to find them."

Devers waited.

Barr continued in a whisper, "But that would not stop me if the results in view warranted the risk. They would know how to die."

The trader said gently, "You killed a viceroy once, huh? You know, I recognize a few things. We once had a mayor, Hober Mallow his name was. He visited Siwenna; that's your world, isn't it? He met a man named Barr."

Ducem Barr stared hard, suspiciously. "What do you know of this?"

"What every trader on the Foundation knows. You might be a smart old fellow put in here to get on my right side. Sure, they'd point guns at you, and you'd hate the Empire and be all-out for its smashing. Then I'd fall all over you and pour out my heart to you, and wouldn't the general be pleased. There's not much chance of that, doc.

"But just the same I'd like to have you prove that you're the son of Onum Barr of Siwenna ?the sixth and youngest who escaped the massacre."

Ducem Barr's hand shook as he opened the flat metal box in a wall recess. The metal object he withdrew clanked softly as he thrust it into the trader's hands. "Look at that," he said.

Devers stared. He held the swollen central link of the chain close to his eyes and swore softly. "That's Mallow's monogram, or I'm a space-struck rookie, and the design is fifty years old if it's a day."

He looked up and smiled.

"Shake, doc. A man-sized nuclear shield is all the proof I need," and he held out his large hand.
第五章 战端
　　从设置在西维纳的集结点，帝国舰队小心翼翼地向未知的、险恶的外缘星空进发。巨大的星舰横越过银河边缘的广袤太空，经过了散布其间的零星星系，谨慎地接近基地势力范围的最外环。
那些已经在新兴的蛮荒中，孤立了两个世纪的各个世界，再度感受到了皇帝的威权降临在他们的土地上。在重型火炮的威胁之下，居民们一致宣誓对大帝矢志效忠。
然后，每个世界都留下了若干军队驻守，那些驻军个个身穿帝国的军服，肩膀上佩戴着“星舰与太阳”的徽章。老年人注意到这个标志，想起了那些被遗忘的故事——在他们曾祖父的时代，整个宇宙都统一在这个“星舰与太阳”的旗帜之下，当时的世界浩瀚无边，人民的生活富裕而和平。
巨大的星舰不断穿梭，在端点星基地的周围继续建立更多的前进据点。每当又一个世界被编入这个天罗地网时，就会有报告送回到贝尔•里欧思的总司令部。这个总司令部设立在一个不属于任何恒星的小行星上，整个行星都是由岩石构成的不毛之地。
此时里欧思心情很轻松，对杜森•巴尔冷笑着说：“老贵族，你认为如何？”
“我？我的想法有什么价值？我又不是军人。”说完，他随便四处看了看！——这是一个由岩石凿成的房间，显得拥挤而凌乱，石壁上还挖出了一个孔洞，引进人工空气、光线与暖气。在这个荒凉萧瑟的偏僻世界上，这里要算是唯一具有生机的小空间。
然后巴尔又喃喃地道：“我能给你什么帮助呢？或者说，我愿意提供的帮助对你有什么用呢？你实在应该将我送回西维纳去。”
“还不行，现在还不行。”将军把椅子转到房间的一角，那里有一个巨大而闪烁的透明球体，上面映出了旧时的安纳克瑞昂郡，以及邻近的星空模型。然后他又对巴尔说：“再过一段时间，当战事告一段落，你就可以回到书堆中去，还能够得回更多的东西——我保证会把你的家族领地归还给你，你的子女和后代子孙可以永远继承。”
“感谢你的好意，”巴尔以淡淡的讽刺口吻说：“但是我却无法像你一样，对结局抱着如此乐观的态度。”
里欧思厉声笑道：“你不要再讲什么不吉利的预言了，这个星图比你的悲观理论更具有说服力。”
他一面轻抚着透明球体，一面继续说道：“你懂得如何看径向投影的星图吗？你懂？很好，那么就自己好好看—看吧。金色的星球代表帝国的领土，红色的星球隶属于基地，粉红色的那些星球，则可能位于基地的经济势力范围之内。现在注意看——”
里欧思将手放在一个圆钮上，星图中一块由白点构成的区域，开始缓缓变成深蓝色。然后就像是弄翻了一瓶墨水一样，蓝色的部分逐渐扩散到红色与粉红色的区域。
“那些蓝色的星球，就是已被我们的军队所占领的世界。”里欧思十分得意地说：“我们的军队仍然在推进，在任何地方都未遭到反抗，那些蛮子倒还算乖顺。尤其重要的一点，是我们从来没遇过基地的军队，他们还在安详地蒙头大睡呢。”
“你将兵力布置得很分散，对不对？”巴尔问道。
“其实，只是表面上看来如此，”里欧思说：“事实上并不然。我留下军队驻守和建筑工事的据点并不多，但是每个据点都经过精心的挑选。这样的安排，可以使兵力的负担减到最少，却又能达到重大的战略目的。这种战术具有很多优点，没有仔细钻研过太空战术的人，根本看不出其中的奥妙；但是有些特点，仍然是每个人都可以看得出来的。比如说，我可以从包围网的任何一点发动攻击，而当我军将包围网全部完成之后，基地就不可能攻击到我军的侧翼或背面，因为对敌人而言，我军根本没有任何的侧翼或背面。
“这种‘先制包围’的战略，过去也曾有许多指挥官尝试过。最着名的一次，是大约两千年以前，应用在洛瑞斯六号那场战役中。可惜从来就没有一次完美的表现，总是被敌方预先洞悉，因而受到敌方的阻挠——但是这一次不同。”
“这次是教科书中的理想状况？”巴尔漠不关心地随口问了一句。
里欧思不耐烦了：“你还是认为我的部队会失败？”
“他们注定要失败。”
“你应该了解，在战史上，只要包围网完成之后，从来没有进攻的一方战败的例子。除非在包围网之外，另有第三者的强大舰队能将包围网击溃。”
“你既然这么说，想必就没错吧。”
“可是你仍旧坚持自己的信念？”
“是的。”
里欧思耸耸肩：“那么随你的便吧。”
巴尔让将军默默发了一会儿脾气，然后才轻声地问：“你从大帝陛下那边，得到了什么回答吗？”
里欧思从身后石壁的壁槽中取出一根香烟，深深吸了一口，然后说：“你是指我要求增援的那件事吗？有回音了，不过也只是一个回音而已。”
“没有派星舰来吗？”
“一艘也没有，其实我也没有抱太大的指望。坦白说，老贵族，我实在不应该被你的理论吓唬到，当初也根本不该请求什么增援，这样做反而使我遭到误解。”
“真的会这样吗？”
“绝对会的。如今星舰极为稀罕而珍贵，过去两个世纪的内战，消耗了‘大舰队’一大半的星舰，剩下来的那些，情况也都很不理想。你也知道，现在所建造的星舰差得多了，我不相信如今在银河中还能找到任何人，有能力造得出一流的超核能发动机。”


“这个我知道。”西维纳老贵族回答。从他的眼光中，可以看出他陷入了沉思与内省，然后他又说：“可是我却不知道你也明白。这么说的话，大帝没有多余的星舰可以派给你了。这一点心理史学应该预测得到，事实上，也许真的预测到了。我甚至可以说，哈里•谢顿的幽灵之手，已经赢了第一回合。”
里欧思厉声道：“我现有的这些星舰就足够了，你的谢顿什么也没有赢，当情势紧急时，一定就会有更多的星舰前来支援。目前，大帝还没有了解全盘情况。”
“是这样的吗？你还有什么没告诉他？”
“那还用说吗？当然就是你的那些理论。”里欧思一副挖苦人的表情：“虽然我很尊敬你，可是你说的那些事情，根本就不可能是真的。除非事情的发展能证实你的理论，除非我能看到什么明证，否则，我才不信会有致命的危险。”
里欧思继续轻描淡写地说：“此外，像这种没有事实根据的臆测，简直就是大逆不道的言论，绝对不会讨大帝的欢心。”
老贵族笑着说：“你的意思是，如果你禀告大帝，说银河边缘有一群衣衫褴褛的蛮子，可能会推翻掉他的皇位，大帝根本不会相信，更不可能会重视。所以，你并不指望从大帝那里得到任何帮助。”
“除非你将特使当作是一种帮助的话。”
“为什么会有特使来这里？”
“这是一种古老的惯例，每一个由帝国支持的军事行动，都会有一位皇帝陛下的钦命代表参与其事。”
“真的吗？为什么呢？”
“这样做的话，就可以保持皇帝御驾亲征的象征。此外，另一项作用就是确保将军的忠诚，不过这个目的并非每次都能成功。”
“将军，你将发现这会带来很多不便，我指的是这个外来的威权。”
“我并不怀疑这一点，”里欧思的脸颊稍微转红：“但是我也没有办法……”
此时，将军手中的收讯器后了起来，并且发出轻微的摩擦声，然后传送槽中便跳出了一个圆筒状的信囊。里欧思将信卷打开来，看了一眼就大叫：“太好了！来了！”
巴尔轻轻扬起了眉毛，表示询问之意。
里欧思说：“你知不知道？我们俘虏到了一名行商，还是一个活口——连他的太空船也都完好。”
“我听说了。”
“我的手下将他带到这里来了，我们马上就可以见到他。老贵族，请你坐好，在我审问他的时候，我要你也在场，这也是我今天请你到这里来的本意。如果我疏忽了什么重要的地方，你也许可以听得出来。”
然后叫门的讯号便响了起来，将军用脚趾头踢了一下开关，办公室的门就打开了。站在门口的那个人身材很高，满脸的大胡子，穿着一件人造皮制的短大衣，后面还连着一个兜帽垂在他的颈际。他的双手并没有被铐起来，虽然押解的人个个手中都有武器，他也没有显得丝毫不自在。
那个人泰然自若地走了进来，向四周打量了一番。他见到将军之后，只是随便地挥挥手，稍微点了点头。
“你叫什么名字？”里欧思简洁有力地问。
行商将拇指勾在宽大而俗不可耐的皮带上，随口回答说：“拉珊•迪伐斯——你是这里的头儿吗？”
“你是从基地来的行商吗？”
“没错，听好，如果你是这里的头儿，最好赶紧告诉你的手下，叫他们别再碰我的货物了。”
将军抬起头来，以冷峻的眼光看着他的战俘：“回答我的问题，不要反过来对我发号施令。”
“好吧，我接受。可是你有一名手下，把手指头放进不该放的地方，结果胸口开了一个两尺宽的窟窿。”
里欧思的目光随即栘到身边一位中尉身上：“这个人说的是真的吗？威兰克，你的报告不是说没有任何伤亡？”
“报告将军，原本是没有的。”中尉以僵硬而不安的语调回答：“后来我们决定要搜一搜他的太空船，因为有谣言说船上有女人。结果我们没有发现什么女人，却找到了很多不知名的装置，这名俘虏声称那些都是他的货品。当我们正在清点的时候，有一个东西忽然射出一道强光，结果拿着那个东西的弟兄就遇难了。”
将军又转身向行商说：“你的太空船中携带了核能武器？”
“老天有眼，当然没有，我带那种东西做什么？那个傻瓜抓着的是一个核能打孔机，可是方向拿反了，又将孔径调到最大。他根本不该这么做，这等于是拿着一把中子枪指着自己的头。要不是当时有五个人压在我的身上，我本来是可以阻止他的。”
里欧思对身旁的警卫做了一个手势，并且说：“你去传话，不准任何人进入那艘太空船。迪伐斯，你坐下来。”
那位行商顺从地在里欧思指定的位置坐下，满不在乎地任由帝国将军锐利的目光，以及西维纳老贵族好奇的眼光在他身上仔细打量。
然后里欧思说：“迪伐斯，你是一个识相的人。”
“谢谢你，你说的是真心话，还是对我另有所求？我得先告诉你，我可是一个正当的生意人。”
“这没有什么分别。你很识时务地投降了，让我们省却不少炮弹，也让你自己不至于被轰成一团原子。如果你继续保持这种态度，就可以得到很好的待遇。”
“头儿，我最渴望的就是有很好的待遇。”
“好极了，而我最渴望的就是你的合作。”里欧思微笑了一下，又低声向一旁的巴尔说：“但愿我们两人口中的‘渴望’，指的是同一件事情。你知不知道蛮子对这个词，有什么特殊的解释没有？”
迪伐斯殷勤地抢着说：“对，我同意你的话。但是，头儿，你所指的是什么样的合作呢？跟你说一句老实话，我连身在何处都不知道。”
他四下看了看，然后又说道：“比方说，这是什么地方？把我带到这里来干什么？”
“啊，很抱歉，我忘了还没有介绍完毕——”里欧思的心情显然很好：“这位老绅士名叫杜森•巴尔，是帝国的贵族。我名叫贝尔•里欧思，是帝国的高级贵族，在大帝麾下效忠，官拜三级将军。”
那位行商听得目瞪口呆，反问道：“帝国？你说的是不是教科书中提到的那个古老帝国？哈，太有意思啦！我以前一直以为它早就不存在了。”
“你仔细看看周围的一切，它当然存在。”里欧思绷着脸说。
“我早就应该知道——”迪伐斯将满脸的胡须对着屋顶：“我那艘不中用的小太空船，是被一艘外表壮丽无比的星舰逮到的。银河外缘的那些王国，没有一个能造得出那种货色。”
然后他又皱起眉头来说：“所以，头儿，呃，我是不是应该称呼你一声将军？你们到底在玩什么游戏？”
“这个游戏的名字叫作战争。”
“帝国对基地，是不是？”
“没错。”
“为什么呢？”
“我想你心里一定明白为什么。”
行商瞪着眼睛，神情坚决地摇了摇头。
里欧思任由他默默思索了半晌，然后才轻声说：“我确定你知道为什么。”
迪伐斯却喃喃地道：“这里好热啊。”说着他就自行站了起来，脱下身上的连帽短大衣，然后又坐下来，不客气地把腿向前伸得老远。
“你知道吗？”他以轻松的口吻说：“我猜得到，你以为我会大吼一声，然后一跃而起，向四面八方胡乱拳打脚踢一番。如果我算好了时机，我可以在你行动之前将你制住，那个坐在一边一言不发的老家伙，想必也阻止不了我。”
“可是你却不会这么做。”里欧思充满信心地说。
“没错，我不会。”迪伐斯对将军的话表示同意，他的口气很亲切：“第一，即使杀了你，我想也阻止不了这场战争，你们那里一定还有不少将军。”
“你推算得很准确。”
“此外，我制服了你之后，两秒钟以内就可能被打倒，然后立刻被处死，也可能会被故意地慢慢折磨死，总之我会没命。而当我在作打算的时候，从来不喜欢有这种可能出现，这太不划算了。”
“我说过，你是一个识相的聪明人。”
“不过，头儿，有一点我想弄明白，你说我知道你们为什么攻击我们，希望你告诉我这是什么意思。我真的不知道，这种猜谜游戏最令我头疼。”
“是吗？你可曾听说过哈里•谢顿？”
“没有，我说过不喜欢玩猜谜游戏。”
里欧思向一旁的巴尔瞄了一眼，巴尔温和地微笑了一下，便再度回复到那种冥想般的神情。
里欧思露出不高兴的表情说：“迪伐斯，你不要跟我装蒜。在你们的基地上，有一个传统，或者说历史，还是传说——我不管它到底是什么，反正就是说，你们最后终将建立一个第二帝国。哈里•谢顿的心理史学那一套宣传，我知道得非常详细，也了解你们对于帝国所拟定的侵略计划。”
“是吗？”迪伐斯若有所思地点点头：“这又是什么人告诉你的？”
“这有什么关系吗？”里欧思以诡异的温柔语调说：“你在这里不准发问，我要你告诉我，你所听过有关谢顿的一切。”
“但是，既然这只是传说……”
“迪伐斯，不要跟我油嘴滑舌。”
“我没有，我会坦白地对你说的。其实我知道的你全都知道了。这实在是很愚蠢的传说，内容根本不完整。每一个世界都有一些民间传说，谁也无法使它们销声匿迹。是的，我听说过这一类的说法，关于谢顿、第二帝国等等。人们通常都在晚上讲些这种故事，哄小孩子入睡；年轻的小憋子们，没事的时候喜欢在房间里挤成一团，用袖珍投影机播放谢顿式的惊险影片。但是这些全都是‘成人不宜’的，总之，有头脑的成年人都不会相信。”说完，他又使劲地摇了摇头。
将军的眼神变得阴沉：“真是如此吗？老兄，你说这些谎话根本浪费唇舌。我曾经去过那个行星——端点星，我了解你们的基地，因为我亲自探访过。”
“既然如此，你为什么还要来问我？我呀，过去十年之间，待在那里的日子还不到两个月，你这是在浪费自己的时间。不过，如果你真的相信那些传说的话，要打你就去打吧。”
此时巴尔终于开口，以温和的口气道：“这么说，你绝对相信基地会胜利？”
行商转过身来，脸颊稍微涨红，一侧太阳穴上的旧疤痕却更加泛白。他回答巴尔说：“嗯——这位沉默的伙伴终于说话了。老学究，你又是如何从我的话中，得出这个结论来的？”
里欧思对巴尔暗示性地点了点头，于是这位西维纳老贵族继续低声说道：“因为，如果你认为自己的世界会被打败，并且将会因此受到悲惨的命运，你一定会显得坐立不安，不会像现在这样满不在乎。关于战败者的悲惨遭遇，我自己很清楚，因为我的世界就曾经被征服过，直到如今仍旧如此。”
迪伐斯摸摸他的胡子，轮流瞪着对面的两个人，然后冷冷地笑着说：“头儿，他说话总是这样子吗？我告诉你们——”
他的态度转趋严肃：“战败了又怎么样？我曾经目睹过战争，也看过被打败的世界。即使领土全被战胜者接管了又如何？谁会操这个心？我吗？像我这种小角色吗？”他摇着头，满脸嘲讽而不屑的神情。
“你们听我说，”这位行商一本正经地强调：“普通的行星世界上，通常总是由五、六个脑满肠肥的家伙统治，如果战败的话，那些人就会倒台，可是我却一点也不担心。至于一般大众呢？普通人呢？当然，有一些倒楣鬼会被杀掉，没死的有好一阵子得多付许多税金。但是局势总会安定下来，事情会渐渐恢复正常的，然后一切又回到和当初一样，只不过是换了另外五、六个人掌权而已。”
此时巴尔的鼻孔翕张着，右手的肌肉明显地在抽搐，然而却什么都没有说。
迪伐斯的目光停驻在巴尔的身上，将这一切部看在眼里。他又说：“看，我一辈子在太空中飘泊，带着那些不值钱的小玩意到处兜售，我所获得的微薄利润，还要被‘企业联营组织’抽头。那里有好几头肥猪——”
他用大拇指向背后比了比，又说：“成天坐在家中，每一分钟都能赚到我一年的收入——靠的就是向许许多多我们这种人抽成。如果换成你来治理基地，你还是得需要我们的，你会比‘企业联营组织’更加需要我们。因为在那里，你根本摸不清头绪，而我们可以帮你赚进白花花的银子，可以和帝国进行更有利的交易。我保证我们会这么做，我在商言商，只要能够有些赚头，我就一定肯干。”
说完，他又瞪着两人，脸上露出一副嘲弄似的挑战神情。
沉默维持了好几分钟，突然又有一个圆筒信囊，从传送槽中咔答一声跳了出来。将军立刻扳开看了一遍，随手就将视讯通话器的开关打开。
“立刻拟定计划，指示所有船舰各就各位，全副武装进行战备，等待下一步的命令。”
说完，他就伸手取饼了披风，一面系着披风的带子，一面以单调的语气细声对巴尔说：“我把这个人交给你，希望你能有些成果。现在是战时，我对失败者绝不留情，记住这一点。”他向两人行了一个军礼，然后就迳自离去。
迪伐斯看着他的背影说：“哈，难道有什么东西戳到他的痛处了，到底是怎么回事？”
“显然是一场战役，”巴尔粗声地说：“基地的军队终于出现了，这是他们打的第一仗——你最好跟我来。”
此时房间中还有几名全副武装的士兵，他们的态度谦恭有礼，但是表情却木然生硬。西维纳的老贵族刚迈开脚步，那些士兵就亦步亦趋跟着行动，迪伐斯则被柙着跟在巴尔后面，走出将军的办公室。
他们被带到一间较小的房间中，里面的陈设也比将军的办公室简陋，只有两张床，一具电视幕，淋浴以及卫生设备。士兵们将两人带了进来，便大踏步离开，随即传来一声关门的巨响。
“嗯——”迪伐斯不以为然地四处打量着：“看来我们出不去了。”
“没错。”巴尔简短地回答了一声，然后这位老贵族便转过身去。
行商却以暴躁的口气问：“老学究，你究竟在玩什么把戏？”
“我没有玩什么把戏，你现在受我监管，如此而已。”
行商站起身来，向老贵族走了过去，魁梧的身形峙立在巴尔面前，巴尔却一点也不为所动。
“是吗？可是你现在却跟我一起关在这间牢房里。而且，当我们走到这里来的时候，我注意到了，那些士兵的枪口不只是对着我而已。我还注意到，当我发表战争与和平的高论时，你简直就要气炸了。”
迪伐斯等了一下，见对方没有回答，只好自己再说下去：“好吧，让我问你一件事——你说你的故乡曾经被征服，是被什么人征服的？另一个星系来的彗星上的人吗？”
巴尔终于抬起头来说：“是帝国。”
“真的？那你在这里干什么？”
巴尔又以无言的沉默代替了回答。
迪伐斯噘起嘴，缓缓地点了点头。然后他将右手腕上戴着的一个手镯褪下来，递给巴尔，并且说：“你知道这是什么？”
西维纳老贵族注意到那是一个扁平的金属链，他还注意到，迪伐斯的左手也戴了另一个一模一样的。
他接过了这个手镯，迪伐斯又做了一个手势，示意他将手镯戴上。巴尔动作迟缓地照做，手腕上立刻传来一阵奇特的刺痛。
此时，迪伐斯的语调突然有了一百八十度的转变：“对了，老学究，你感觉到了。现在可以随便说话，如果这个房间有任何监听线路，现在也都不用怕啦。你刚才戴上的，其实是一具电磁场扭曲器，货真价实的马洛设计品。它的统一售价是二十五点，从此地到银河外围全都一样，但是今天我免费送给你。你在说话的时候，嘴唇尽量不要动，但是也不要太做作，这个窍门你必须记牢。”
巴尔突然觉得全身乏力，迪伐斯锐利的眼神充满了怂恿的意味，令他感到几乎无法承受。
他只好问迪伐斯：“你到底要我做什么？”这句话讲得含含糊糊，因为他的嘴唇几乎没有动。
“我告诉你，你说的话义正辞严，好像是我们所谓的爱国人士。可是，你自己的世界曾经被帝国蹂躏，你如今却在这里和帝国的金发将军携手合作。这实在有点说不通，对不对？”
巴尔说：“我已经尽了自己的责任，征服我们世界的那个帝国总督，就是死在我的手里。”
“真的吗？是最近的事情吗？”
“是四十年以前的事情。”
“四十……年……前！”迪伐斯似乎对这几个字别有所悟，他皱着眉说：“这种陈年旧帐，实在不值得再去毯笏。那个穿着将军制服的年轻人，他晓得这件事情吗？”
巴尔点点头。
迪伐斯的眼神中似乎充满了深意：“你希望帝国战胜吗？”
西维纳的老贵族突然发作：“希望帝国与它的一切，通通在一场大灾难中毁灭殆尽，每个西维纳人天天都在这样祈祷。我曾经有数个兄长，一个妹妹，他们都在战乱中罹难，我的父亲也早已去世。可是现在我还有儿女，还有孙儿，而那个将军知道他们在哪里。”
迪伐斯默然不语，巴尔继续细声说道：“但是，如果有希望，如果值得冒险的话，我还是会不顾一切的，我的家人也已经准备牺牲。”
迪伐斯以温和的口气说：“你说你曾经杀死过一个总督，是吧？你知道吗，我想到了一些事情。我们以前有一位市长，他的名字叫作侯伯•马洛，他曾经到过西维纳，那就是你的世界，对不对？在那里，他遇到过一位姓巴尔的老人。”
巴尔以狐疑的眼光紧盯着对方：“这件事你知道多少？”
“跟基地每一个行商知道的一样多。你是一个精明的老人，也许你和我关在一起是故意安排的。没错，他们也拿枪比着你，而你看来真的恨透了帝国，愿意与它同归于尽。这样，我应该就会把你当成自己人，对你推心置腹，知无不言，如此就正中将军的下怀。这种机会实在很难得，对不对，老学究？然而我可没那么天真，我要你先向我证明，你的确是欧南•巴尔的儿子——他最小的儿子，那个逃过大屠杀的老么。”
巴尔以颤抖的手，从石壁的壁槽中拿出一个扁平的金属盒，再将它打开来，取出了一个金属物件。当他将那个东西递给迪伐斯的时候，带起了一阵叮当叮当的轻微响声。
“你自己看看。”他对迪伐斯说。
迪伐斯将那个金属链中央鼓胀的部分凑到眼前，很仔细地看了一会，然后低声赌咒：“我可以确定，这是马洛名字的缩写，否则我就是一只没上过太空的嫩鸟。这种设计的式样，也是五十年以前的。”
然后迪伐斯抬起头来，微笑着说：“老学究，握握手吧，这副个人核能防护罩就是最好的证明。”说着，他就伸出了粗大的手掌。
6. THE FAVORITE


The tiny ships had appeared out of the vacant depths and darted into the midst of the Armada. Without a shot or a burst of energy, they weaved through the ship-swollen area, then blasted on and out, while the Imperial wagons turned after them like lumbering beasts. There were two noiseless flares that pinpointed space as two of the tiny gnats shriveled in atomic disintegration, and the rest were gone.

The great ships searched, then returned to their original task, and world by world, the great web of the Enclosure continued.

Brodrig's uniform was stately; carefully tailored and as carefully worn. His walk through the gardens of the obscure planet Wanda, now temporary Imperial headquarters, was leisurely; his expression was somber.

Bel Riose walked with him, his field uniform open at the collar, and doleful in its monotonous gray-black.

Riose indicated the smooth black bench under the fragrant tree-fern whose large spatulate leaves lifted flatly against the white sun. "See that, sir. It is a relic of the Imperium. The ornamented benches, built for lovers, linger on, fresh and useful, while the factories and the palaces collapse into unremembered ruin."

He seated himself, while Cleon II's Privy Secretary stood erect before him and clipped the leaves above neatly with precise swings of his ivory staff.

Riose crossed his legs and offered a cigarette to the other. He fingered one himself as he spoke, "It is what one would expect from the enlightened wisdom of His Imperial Majesty to send so competent an observer as yourself. It relieves any anxiety I might have felt that the press of more important and more immediate business might perhaps force into the shadows a small campaign on the Periphery."

"The eyes of the Emperor are everywhere," said Brodrig, mechanically. "We do not underestimate the importance of the campaign; yet still it would seem that too great an emphasis is being placed upon its difficulty. Surely their little ships are no such barrier that we must move through the intricate preliminary maneuver of an Enclosure."

Riose flushed, but he maintained his equilibrium. "I can not risk the lives of my men, who are few enough, or the destruction of my ships which are irreplaceable, by a too-rash attack. The establishment of an Enclosure will quarter my casualties in the ultimate attack, howsoever difficult it be. The military reasons for that I took the liberty to explain yesterday."

"Well, well, I am not a military man. In this case, you assure me that what seems patently and obviously right is, in reality, wrong. We will allow that. Yet your caution shoots far beyond that. In your second communication, you requested reinforcements. And these, against an enemy poor, small, and barbarous, with whom you have had not one' skirmish at the time. To desire more forces under the circumstances would savor almost of incapacity or worse, had not your earlier career given sufficient proof of your boldness and imagination."

"I thank you," said the general, coldly, "but I would remind you that there is a difference between boldness and blindness. There is a place for a decisive gamble when you know your enemy and can calculate the risks at least roughly; but to move at all against an unknown enemy is boldness in itself. You might as well ask why the same man sprints safely across an obstacle course in the day, and falls over the furniture in his room at night."

Brodrig swept away the other's words with a neat flirt of the fingers. "Dramatic, but not satisfactory. You have been to this barbarian world yourself. You have in addition this enemy prisoner you coddle, this trader. Between yourself and the prisoner you are not in a night fog."

"No? I pray you to remember that a world which has developed in isolation for two centuries can not be interpreted to the point of intelligent attack by a month's visit. I am a soldier, not a cleft-chinned, barrel-chested hero of a subetheric trimensional thriller. Nor can a single prisoner, and one who is an obscure member of an economic group which has no close connection with the enemy world introduce me to all the inner secrets of enemy strategy."

"You have questioned him?"

"I have."

"Well?"

"It has been useful, but not vitally so. His ship is tiny, of no account. He sells little toys which are amusing if nothing else. I have a few of the cleverest which I intend sending to the Emperor as curiosities. Naturally, there is a good deal about the ship and its workings which I do not understand, but then I am not a tech-man."

"But you have among you those who are," pointed out Brodrig.

"I, too, am aware of that," replied the general in faintly caustic tones. "But the fools have far to go before they could meet my needs. I have already sent for clever men who can understand the workings of the odd nuclear field-circuits the ship contains. I have received no answer." 

"Men of that type can not be spared, general. Surely, there must be one man of your vast province who understands nucleics."

"Were there such a one, I would have him heal the limping, invalid motors that power two of my small fleet of ships. Two ships of my meager ten that can not fight a major battle for lack of sufficient power supply. One fifth of my force condemned to the carrion activity of consolidating positions behind the lines."

The secretary's fingers fluttered impatiently. "Your position is not unique in that respect, general. The Emperor has similar troubles."

The general threw away his shredded, never-lit cigarette, lit another, and shrugged. "Well, it is beside the immediate point, this lack of first-class tech-men. Except that I might have made more progress with my prisoner were my Psychic Probe in proper order."

The secretary's eyebrows lifted. "You have a Probe?"

"An old one. A superannuated one which fails me the one time I needed it. I set it up during the prisoner's sleep, and received nothing. So much for the Probe. I have tried it on my own men and the reaction is quite proper, but again there is not one among my staff of tech-men who can tell me why it fails upon the prisoner. Ducem Barr, who is a theoretician of parts, though no mechanic, says the psychic structure of the prisoner may be unaffected by the Probe since from childhood he has been subjected to alien environments and neural stimuli. I don't know. But he may yet be useful. I save him in that hope."

Brodrig leaned on his staff. A shall see if a specialist is available in the capital. In the meanwhile, what of this other man you just mentioned, this Siwennian? You keep too many enemies in your good graces."

"He knows the enemy. He, too, I keep for future reference and the help he may afford me."

"But he is a Siwennian and the son of a proscribed rebel."

"He is old and powerless, and his family acts as hostage."

"I see. Yet I think that I should speak to this trader, myself."

"Certainly."

"Alone," the secretary added coldly, making his point.

"Certainly," repeated Riose, blandly. "As a loyal subject of the Emperor, I accept his personal representative as my superior. However, since the trader is at the permanent base, you will have to leave the front areas at an interesting moment."

"Yes? Interesting in what way?"

"Interesting in that the Enclosure is complete today. Interesting in that within the week, the Twentieth Fleet of the Border advances inward towards the core of resistance." Riose smiled and turned away.

In a vague way, Brodrig felt punctured.
第六章 宠臣
　　在深邃空虚的太空中，数艘小型的星际战舰正以迅疾的速度冲入敌方的舰队。它们没有立即开火，直到穿越过敌方星舰最密集的区域，才开始发动攻势。帝国舰队巨大的星舰立即转向，像疯狂的巨兽一般开始追击。不久之后，两艘蚊蚋般的星舰消失在核爆中，两团烈焰无声无息地射人太空深处，其他的攻击者则纷纷疾速逃逸。
巨型的星舰搜索了一阵子，又回来继续执行原来的任务。一个世界接着一个世界，巨大的包围网建构得越来越致密。
布洛缀克的制服看起来非常威严体面，显然是经过细心的剪裁，他也一定花了一番心思细心穿戴。现在，他正走过偏僻的万达行星上的一个花园，这里是帝国远征舰队的临时司令部。他的步履悠闲，神情却显得忧郁。
贝尔•里欧思跟这位大臣走在一起，他穿着单调的灰黑色野战服，领子敞着。这种装束令他看来显得阴沉。
他们来到一株吐着香气的大型羊齿树下，竹片状的巨叶遮住了强烈的阳光。里欧思指了指树下一把黑色的长椅，对布洛缀克说：“大人，您看看，这是帝国统治时期的遗迹。这把装饰华丽的长椅，是专门为了情侣设计的，如今仍然屹立在此，几乎完好如新。可是工厂与宫殿，却都崩塌成一团无法辨识的废墟了。”
说着，里欧思自己就坐了下来。克里昂二世的枢密大臣仍然站在他面前，挥动着手中的象牙手杖，将头上的叶子整齐地削去一片又一片。
里欧思翘起二郎腿，递给对方一根香烟，然后自己一面说话，一面也掏出了一根。他说：“大帝陛下无上英明睿智，您这位能干的监军真是不作第二人想，有您前来我就放心了。我本来还担心，怕有更重要更急迫的国家大事，会使得银河外缘这个小战事被搁在一边。”
“大帝陛下的慧眼，时刻遍察银河系各个角落。”布洛缀克硬生生地说，然后又强调：“我们不会低估这场战事的重要性，然而，你也似乎太过强调它的困难。他们那些小星舰，当然不可能构成任何阻碍，我们犯不着花费这么大的准备功夫，进行布置包围网的行动。”
里欧思的脸涨红了，但是他仍然勉力维持着镇定：“我不能拿部下的生命冒险，他们的人数本来就不多：我也不能采取太过轻率的攻击行动，这样会损耗珍贵无比的星舰。一旦包围网完成之后，不论总攻击如何艰难，我军的伤亡将可以减低到原先的四分之一。昨天，我已经冒昧地向您解释了军事上的理由。”
“好吧，好吧，反正我不是一个军人。在这个问题上，你已经向我证明，表面上明显的事实，其实根本是错误的想法，我们可以接受这一点。可是，你的小心谨慎也未免太过走火入魔，在你传回的第二次奏章中，你竟然要求增援——对付那么一小撮贫穷、落后、野蛮的敌人，在你根本还没有进行任何接触战之前，竟然就先做这种要求。在这种情况下，你还要求增援，如果不是你过去的经历充分证明你的英勇和智慧的话，会让别人以为你很无能，甚至引起更糟的联想。”
“我很感谢您的忠告，”将军冷静地答道：“但是允许我提醒您，勇敢与盲目是完全不同的两回事。当我们了解敌人的虚实，而且至少能大致估计风险时，就可以大胆放手一搏。但是在敌暗我明的情况之下贸然行动，却是一种盲目的行为。您想想看就知道，为什么一个人，白天可以在充满障碍物的道路上奔跑，晚上却会在家里被家具绊倒。”
布洛缀克忽然优雅地摆了摆手，把对方的话挡了回去：“说得很生动，但是无法令人满意。你自己曾经去过那个蛮子的世界，此外你还留着一个敌方的俘虏，就是那个行商。由此可见，你不应该什么都摸不清楚。”
“为什么不应该呢？我期望您能记得，对于一个孤立发展了两个世纪的世界，不可能因为我去探查了一个月，就能计划出一个精密的军事行动。我是一名军人，并不是次以太立体惊险影片中，那些满脸刀疤、满身肌肉、怎么打也打不死的英雄。而那个俘虏，他只是一个商业团体中的小角色，跟敌方世界又没有太密切的关系，我不可能从他的口中，问出敌军的重大战略机密。”
“你审问过他了吗？”
“我已经审问过了。”
“结果呢？”
“有点帮助，但是并没有什么太大的用处。他的那艘太空船也很小，没有任何军事价值。他所兜售的那些玩具，顶多只能算是新奇有趣而已，我捡了几件最精巧的，准备献给大帝赏玩。当然，那艘船上的许多装置与功能我都不了解，再说，我又不是一名技官。”
“但是你的身边总有些技官吧。”布洛缀克故意提醒他。
“这点我也知道，”将军以稍带挖苦的口吻说：“但是那些笨蛋太差劲了，根本就帮不上忙。我需要懂得那艘船上古怪的核场线路的专家，我也已经派人去找了，不过还没有任何回音。”
“将军，这种人才难求得很。可是，在你统治的广大星省中，不可能没有一个人懂得核子学吧？”
“如果真有这样的人才，我早就叫他帮我修理星舰的发动机了。我的小小舰队中，有两艘星舰上的发动机根本下灵光，所以在我仅有的十艘星舰中，就有五分之一由于动力不足，无法投入主要的战役，只能用来担任巩固后方这种无关紧要的工作。”
大臣的手指头拍动着，看起来很不耐烦的样子：“将军，这一方面的问题，不是你一个人的专利，就连大帝也有同样的困扰。”
将军把拿在手中多时，捏得稀烂而从未点燃的香烟丢掉，点着了另一根，然后耸耸肩说：“没关系，这倒不是燃眉之急的问题，我是说缺乏一流技官这回事。不过，如果我的心灵探测器没有失灵的话，应该就可以从那名俘虏身上获得更多的情报。”
大臣扬了扬眉：“你有心灵探测器？”
“一个老古董，早就过时的东西，我需要用它的时候偏偏失灵了。当那个俘虏睡觉的时候，我试着用那个装置探测他的思想，结果什么也没有探测到。我也拿自己的部下做过实验，反应却相当正常，可是我身边的技官们，也没有谁能够向我解释，为什么偏偏在那个俘虏的身上就不管用。杜森•巴尔专门研究零件的理论，并不是一名工程师，他提出一种理论，说那名俘虏的心灵结构对探测器具有免疫性。可能是由于他自孩提时代起，就处于一种异常的环境中，并且神经受过刺激。我不知道这种说法对不对，但是他仍然可能有点用处，所以我还是把他留了下来。”
布洛缀克倚着手杖说：“我会帮你找一找，看看首都里有没有专家可以暂调过来。不过，你刚才提到的另外一个人，那个西维纳人，他又有什么重要性？你身边养着太多的敌人了。”
“他很了解我们的敌人。我把他留在身边，也是为了他还能够提供许多建议与帮助。”
“但是，他是西维纳人，他的父亲还是一个遭到放逐的叛变者。”
“他已经年老力衰，家人还都在我的手中充当人质。”
“我明白了，不过我认为，我应该亲自和那个行商谈一谈。”
“当然可以。”
“单独地谈一谈。”大臣以冷峻的口气特别强调。
“当然可以。”里欧思爽快地重复着原来的回答，然后又说：“身为大帝的忠实臣民，大帝的钦命代表就是我的顶头上司。不过，因为那个行商被关在永久性据点，您需要在适当的时机离开前线，才能够见到他。”
“是吗？什么样的适当时机？”
“包围网今天已经完成了。一周之内，边境第十二舰队就要向内推进，直捣反抗力量的核心，这就是我所谓的适当时机。”说完，里欧思微笑着把头转过去。
布洛缀克突然有一种模糊的感觉，感到自己的自尊心被刺伤了。
7. BRIBERY


Sergeant Mori Luk made an ideal soldier of the ranks. He came from the huge agricultural planets of the Pleiades where only army life could break the bond to the soil and the unavailing life of drudgery; and he was typical of that background. Unimaginative enough to face danger without fear, he was strong and agile enough to face it successfully. He accepted orders instantly, drove the men under him unbendingly and adored his general unswervingly.

And yet with that, he was of a sunny nature. If he killed a man in the line of duty without a scrap of hesitation, it was also without a scrap of animosity.

That Sergeant Luk should signal at the door before entering was further a sign of tact, for he would have been perfectly within his rights to enter without signaling.

The two within looked up from their evening meal and one reached out with his foot to cut off the cracked voice which rattled out of the battered pocket-transmitter with bright liveliness.

"More books?" asked Lathan Devers.

The sergeant held out the tightly-wound cylinder of film and scratched his neck. "It belongs to Engineer Orre, but he'll have to have it back. He's going to send it to his kids, you know, like what you might call a souvenir, you know."

Ducem Barr turned the cylinder in his hands with interest. "And where did the engineer get it? He hasn't a transmitter also, has he?"

The sergeant shook his head emphatically. He pointed to the knocked-about remnant at the foot of the bed. "That's the only one in the place. This fellow, Orre, now, he got that book from one of these pig-pen worlds out here we captured. They had it in a big building by itself and he had to kill a few of the natives that tried to stop him from taking it."

He looked at it appraisingly. "It makes a good souvenir ?for kids."

He paused, then said stealthily, "There's big news floating about, by the way. It's only scuttlebutt, but even so, it's too good to keep. The general did it again." And he nodded slowly, gravely.

"That so?" said Devers. "And what did he do?"

"Finished the Enclosure, that's all." The sergeant chuckled with a fatherly pride. "Isn't he the corker, though? Didn't he work it fine? One of the fellows who's strong on fancy talk, says it went as smooth and even as the music of the spheres, whatever they are."

"The big offensive starts now?" asked Barr, mildly.

"Hope so," was the boisterous response. "I want to get back on my ship now that my arm is in one piece again. I'm tired of sitting on my scupper out here."

"So am I," muttered Devers, suddenly and savagely. There was a bit of underlip caught in his teeth, and he worried it.

The sergeant looked at him doubtfully, and said, "I'd better go now. The captain's round is due and I'd just as soon he didn't catch me in here."

He paused at the door. "By the way, sir," he said with sudden, awkward shyness to the trader, "I heard from my wife. She says that little freezer you gave me to send her works fine. It doesn't cost her anything, and she just about keeps a month's supply of food froze up complete. I appreciate it."

"It's all right. Forget it."

The great door moved noiselessly shut behind the grinning sergeant.

Ducem Barr got out of his chair. "Well, he gives us a fair return for the freezer. Let's take a look at this new book. Ahh, the title is gone."

He unrolled a yard or so of the film and looked through at the light. Then he murmured, "Well, skewer me through the scupper, as the sergeant says. This is 'The Garden of Summa,' Devers."

"That so?" said the trader, without interest. He shoved aside what was left of his dinner. "Sit down, Barr. Listening to this old-time literature isn't doing me any good. You heard what the sergeant said?"

"Yes, I did. What of it?"

"The offensive will start. And we sit here!"

"Where do you want to sit?"

"You know what I mean. There's no use just waiting."

"Isn't there?" Barr was carefully removing the old film from the transmitter and installing the new. "You told me a good deal of Foundation history in the last month, and it seems that the great leaders of past crises did precious little more than sit ?and wait."

"Ah, Barr, but they knew where they were going."

"Did they? I suppose they said they did when it was over, and for all I know maybe they did. But there's no proof that things would not have worked out as well or better if they had not known where they were going. The deeper economic and sociological forces aren't directed by individual men."

Devers sneered. "No way of telling that things wouldn't have worked out worse, either. You're arguing tail-end backwards." His eyes were brooding. "You know, suppose I blasted him?"

"Whom? Riose?"

"Yes."

Barr sighed. His aging eyes were troubled with a reflection of the long past. "Assassination isn't the way out, Devers. I once tried it, under provocation, when I was twenty ?but it solved nothing. I removed a villain from Siwenna, but not the Imperial yoke; and it was the Imperial yoke and not the villain that mattered."

"But Riose is not just a villain, doc. He's the whole blamed army. It would fall apart without him. They hang on him like babies. The sergeant out there slobbers every time he mentions him."

"Even so. There are other armies and other leaders. You must go deeper. There is this Brodrig, for instance ?no one more than he has the ear of the Emperor. He could demand hundreds of ships where Riose must struggle with ten. I know him by reputation."

"That so? What about him?" The trader's eyes lost in frustration what they gained in sharp interest.

"You want a pocket outline? He's a low-born rascal who has by unfailing flattery tickled the whims of the Emperor. He's well-hated by the court aristocracy, vermin themselves, because he can lay claim to neither family nor humility. He is the Emperor's adviser in all things, and the Emperor's too in the worst things. He is faithless by choice but loyal by necessity. There is not a man in the Empire as subtle in villainy or as crude in his pleasures. And they say there is no way to the Emperor's favor but through him; and no way to his, but through infamy."

"Wow!" Devers pulled thoughtfully at his neatly trimmed beard. "And he's the old boy the Emperor sent out here to keep an eye on Riose. Do you know I have an idea?"

"I do now."

"Suppose this Brodrig takes a dislike to our young Army's Delight?"

"He probably has already. He's not noted for a capacity for liking."

"Suppose it gets really bad. The Emperor might hear about it, and Riose might be in trouble."

"Uh-huh. Quite likely. But how do you propose to get that to happen?"

"I don't know. I suppose he could be bribed?"

The patrician laughed gently. "Yes, in a way, but not in the manner you bribed the sergeant ?not with a pocket freezer. And even if you reach his scale, it wouldn't be worth it. There's probably no one so easily bribed, but he lacks even the fundamental honesty of honorable corruption. He doesn't stay bribed; not for any sum. Think of something else."

Devers swung a leg over his knee and his toe nodded quickly and restlessly. "It's the first hint, though?

He stopped; the door signal was flashing once again, and the sergeant was on the threshold once more. He was excited, and his broad face was red and unsmiling.

"Sir," he began, in an agitated attempt at deference, "I am very thankful for the freezer, and you have always spoken to me very fine, although I am only the son of a farmer and you are great lords."

His Pleiades accent had grown thick, almost too much so for easy comprehension; and with excitement, his lumpish peasant derivation wiped out completely the soldierly bearing so long and so painfully cultivated.

Barr said softly, "What is it, sergeant?"

"Lord Brodrig is coming to see you. Tomorrow! I know, because the captain told me to have my men ready for dress review tomorrow for ... for him. I thought ?I might warn you."

Barr said, "Thank you, sergeant, we appreciate that. But it's all right, man; no need for?

But the look on Sergeant Luk's face was now unmistakably one of fear. He spoke in a rough whisper, "You don't hear the stories the men tell about him. He has sold himself to the space fiend. No, don't laugh. There are most terrible tales told about him. They say he has men with blast-guns who follow him everywhere, and when he wants pleasure, he just tells them to blast down anyone they meet. And they do ?and he laughs. They say even the Emperor is in terror of him, and that he forces the Emperor to raise taxes and won't let him listen to the complaints of the people.

"And he hates the general, that's what they say. They say he would like to kill the general, because the general is so great and wise. But he can't because our general is a match for anyone and he knows Lord Brodrig is a bad 'un."

The sergeant blinked; smiled in a sudden incongruous shyness at his own outburst; and backed toward the door. He nodded his head, jerkily. "You mind my words. Watch him."

He ducked out.

And Devers looked up, hard-eyed. "This breaks things our way, doesn't it, doc?"

"It depends," said Barr, dryly, "on Brodrig, doesn't it?"

But Devers was thinking, not listening.

He was thinking hard.

Lord Brodrig ducked his head as he stepped into the cramped living quarters of the trading ship, and his two armed guards followed quickly, with bared guns and the professionally hard scowls of the hired bravos.

The Privy Secretary had little of the look of the lost soul about him just then. If the space fiend had bought him, he had left no visible mark of possession. Rather might Brodrig have been considered a breath of court-fashion come to enliven the hard, bare ugliness of an army base.

The stiff, tight lines of his sheened and immaculate costume gave him the illusion of height, from the very top of which his cold, emotionless eyes stared down the declivity of a long nose at the trader. The mother-of-pearl ruches at his wrists fluttered filmily as he brought his ivory stick to the ground before him and leaned upon it daintily.

"No," he said, with a little gesture, "you remain here. Forget your toys; I am not interested in them."

He drew forth a chair, dusted it carefully with the iridescent square of fabric attached to the top of his white stick, and seated himself. Devers glanced towards the mate to the chair, but Brodrig said lazily, "You will stand in the presence of a Peer of the Realm."

He smiled.

Devers shrugged. "If you're not interested in my stock in trade, what am I here for?"

The Privy Secretary waited coldly, and Devers added a slow, "Sir."

"For privacy," said the secretary. "Now is it likely that I would come two hundred parsecs through space to inspect trinkets? It's you I want to see." He extracted a small pink tablet from an engraved box and placed it delicately between his teeth. He sucked it slowly and appreciatively.

"For instance," he said, "who are you? Are you really a citizen of this barbarian world that is creating all this fury of military frenzy?"

Devers nodded gravely.

"And you were really captured by him after the beginning of this squabble he calls a war. I am referring to our young general." 

Devers nodded again.

"So! Very well, my worthy Outlander. I see your fluency of speech is at a minimum. I shall smooth the way for you. It seems that our general here is fighting an apparently meaningless war with frightful transports of energy ?and this over a forsaken fleabite of a world at the end of nowhere, which to a logical man would not seem worth a single blast of a single gun. Yet the general is not illogical. On the contrary, I would say he was extremely intelligent. Do you follow me?"

"Can't say I do, sir."

The secretary inspected his fingernails and said, "Listen further, then. The general would not waste his men and ships on a sterile feat of glory. I know he talks of glory and of Imperial honor, but it is quite obvious that the affectation of being one of the insufferable old demigods of the Heroic Age won't wash. There is something more than glory hereand he does take queer, unnecessary care of you. Now if you were my prisoner and told me as little of use as you have our general, I would slit open your abdomen and strangle you with your own intestines."

Devers remained wooden. His eyes moved slightly, first to one of the secretary's bully-boys, and then to the other. They were ready; eagerly ready.

The secretary smiled. "Well, now, you're a silent devil. According to the general, even a Psychic Probe made no impression, and that was a mistake on his part, by the way, for it convinced me that our young military whizz-bang was lying." He seemed in high humor.

"My honest tradesman," he said, "I have a Psychic Probe of my own, one that ought to suit you peculiarly well. You see this?

And between thumb and forefinger, held negligently, were intricately designed, pink-and-yellow rectangles which were most definitely obvious in identity.

Devers said so. "It looks like cash," he said.

"Cash it is ?and the best cash of the Empire, for it is backed by my estates, which are more extensive than the Emperor's own. A hundred thousand credits. All here! Between two fingers! Yours!"

"For what, sir? I am a good trader, but all trades go in both directions."

"For what? For the truth! What is the general after? Why is he fighting this war?"

Lathan Devers sighed, and smoothed his beard thoughtfully.

"What he's after?" His eyes were following the motions of the secretary's hands as he counted the money slowly, bill by bill. "In a word, the Empire."

"Hmp. How ordinary! It always comes to that in the end. But how? What is the road that leads from the Galaxy's edge to the peak of Empire so broadly and invitingly?"

"The Foundation," said Devers, bitterly, "has secrets. They have books, old books ?so old that the language they are in is only known to a few of the top men. But the secrets are shrouded in ritual and religion, and none may use them. I tried and now I am here ?and there is a death sentence waiting for me, there."

"I see. And these old secrets? Come, for one hundred thousand I deserve the intimate details."

"The transmutation of elements," said Devers, shortly.

The secretary's eyes narrowed and lost some of their detachment. "I have been told that practical transmutation is impossible by the laws of nucleics."

"So it is, if nuclear forces are used. But the ancients were smart boys. There are sources of power greater than the nuclei and more fundamental. If the Foundation used those sources as I suggested?

Devers felt a soft, creeping sensation in his stomach. The bait was dangling; the fish was nosing it.

The secretary said suddenly, "Continue. The general, I am sure, is aware of a this. But what does he intend doing once he finishes this opera-bouffe affair?"

Devers kept his voice rock-steady. "With transmutation he controls the economy of the whole set-up of your Empire. Mineral holdings won't be worth a sneeze when Riose can make tungsten out of aluminum and iridium out of iron. An entire production system based on the scarcity of certain elements and the abundance of others is thrown completely out of whack. There'll be the greatest disjointment the Empire has ever seen, and only Riose will be able to stop it. And there is the question of this new power I mentioned, the use of which won't give Riose religious heebies.

"There's nothing that can stop him now. He's got the Foundation by the back of the neck, and once he's finished with it, he'll be Emperor in two years."

"So." Brodrig laughed lightly. "Iridium out of iron, that's what you said, isn't it? Come, I'll tell you a state secret. Do you know that the Foundation has already been in communication with the general?"

Devers' back stiffened.

"You look surprised. Why not? It seems logical now. They offered him a hundred tons of iridium a year to make peace. A hundred tons of iron converted to iridium in violation of their religious principles to save their necks. Fair enough, but no wonder our rigidly incorruptible general refused ?when he can have the iridium and the Empire as well. And poor Cleon called him his one honest general. My bewhiskered merchant, you have earned your money."

He tossed it, and Devers scrambled after the flying bills.

Lord Brodrig stopped at the door and turned. "One reminder, trader. My playmates with the guns here have neither middle ears, tongues, education, nor intelligence. They can neither hear, speak, write, nor even make sense to a Psychic Probe. But they are very expert at interesting executions. I have bought you, man, at one hundred thousand credits. You will be good and worthy merchandise. Should you forget that you are bought at any time and attempt to ... say ... repeat our conversation to Riose, you will be executed. But executed my way."

And in that delicate face there were sudden hard lines of eager cruelty that changed the studied smile into a red-lipped snarl. For one fleeting second, Devers saw that space fiend who had bought his buyer, look out of his buyer's eyes.

Silently, he preceded the two thrusting blast-guns of Brodrig's "playmates" to his quarters.

And to Ducem Barr's question, he said with brooding satisfaction, "No, that's the queerest part of it. He bribed me.

Two months of difficult war had left their mark on Bel Riose. There was heavy-handed gravity about him; and he was short-tempered.

It was with impatience that he addressed the worshiping Sergeant Luk. "Wait outside, soldier, and conduct these men back to their quarters when I am through. No one is to enter until I call. No one at all, you understand."

The sergeant saluted himself stiffly out of the room, and Riose with muttered disgust scooped up the waiting papers on his desk, threw them into the top drawer and slammed it shut.

"Take seats," he said shortly, to the waiting two. "I haven't much time. Strictly speaking, I shouldn't be here at all, but it is necessary to see you."

He turned to Ducem Barr, whose long fingers were caressing with interest the crystal cube in which was set the simulacrum of the lined, austere face of His Imperial Majesty, Cleon II.

"In the first place, patrician," said the general, "your Seldon is losing. To be sure, he battles well, for these men of the Foundation swarm like senseless bees and fight like madmen. Every planet is defended viciously, and once taken, every planet heaves so with rebellion it is as much trouble to hold as to conquer. But they are taken, and they are held. Your Seldon is losing."

"But he has not yet lost," murmured Barr politely.

"The Foundation itself retains less optimism. They offer me millions in order that I may not put this Seldon to the final test."

"So rumor goes."

"Ah, is rumor preceding me? Does it prate also of the latest?"

"What is the latest?"

"Why, that Lord Brodrig, the darling of the Emperor, is now second in command at his own request."

Devers spoke for the first time. "At his own request, boss? How come? Or are you growing to like the fellow?" He chuckled.

Riose said, calmly, "No, can't say I do. It's just that he bought the office at what I considered a fair and adequate price."

"Such as?"

"Such as a request to the Emperor for reinforcements."

Devers' contemptuous smile broadened. "'He has communicated with the Emperor, huh? And I take it, boss, you're just waiting for these reinforcements, but they'll come any day. Right?"

"Wrong! They have already come. Five ships of the line; smooth and strong, with a personal message of congratulations from the Emperor, and more ships on the way. What's wrong, trader?" he asked, sardonically.

Devers spoke through suddenly frozen lips. "Nothing!"

Riose strode out from behind his desk and faced the trader, hand on the butt of his blast-gun.

"I say, what's wrong, trader? The news would seem to disturb you. Surely, you have no sudden birth of interest in the Foundation."

"I haven't."

"Yes ?there are queer points about you."

"That so, boss?" Devers smiled tightly, and balled the fists in his pockets. "Just you line them up and I'll knock them down for you."

"Here they are. You were caught easily. You surrendered at first blow with a burnt-out shield. You're quite ready to desert your world, and that without a price. Interesting, all this, isn't it?"

"I crave to be on the winning side, boss. I'm a sensible man; you called me that yourself."

Riose said with tight throatiness, "Granted! Yet no trader since has been captured. No trade ship but has had the speed to escape at choice. No trade ship but has had a screen that could take all the beating a light cruiser could give it, should it choose to fight. And no trader but has fought to death when occasion warranted. Traders have been traced as the leaders and instigators of the guerilla warfare on occupied planets and of the flying raids in occupied space.

"Are you the only sensible man then? You neither fight nor flee, but turn traitor without urging. You are unique, amazingly unique ?in fact, suspiciously unique."

Devers said softly, "I take your meaning, but you have nothing on me. I've been here now six months, and I've been a good boy."

"So you have, and I have repaid you by good treatment. I have left your ship undisturbed and treated you with every consideration. Yet you fall short. Freely offered information, for instance, on your gadgets might have been helpful. The atomic principles on which they are built would seem to be used in some of the Foundation's nastiest weapons. Right?"

"I am only a trader," said Devers, "and not one of these bigwig technicians. I sell the stuff; I don't make it."

"Well, that will be seen shortly. It is what I came here for. For instance, your ship will be searched for a personal force-shield. You have never worn one; yet all soldiers of the Foundation do. It will be significant evidence that there is information you do not choose to give me. Right?"

There was no answer. He continued, "And there will be more direct evidence. I have brought with me the Psychic Probe. It failed once before, but contact with the enemy is a liberal education."

His voice was smoothly threatening and Devers felt the gun thrust hard in his midriff ?the general's gun, hitherto in its holster.

The general said quietly, "You will remove your wristband aaaaaay other metal ornament you wear and give them to me. Slowly! Atomic fields can be distorted, you see, and Psychic Probes might probe only into static. That's right.. I'll take it."

The receiver on the general's desk was glowing and a message capsule clicked into the slot, near which Barr stood aaaastill held the trimensional Imperial bust.

Riose stepped behind his desk, with his blast-gun held ready. He said to Barr, "You too, patrician. Your wristband condemns you. You have been helpful earlier, however, and I am not vindictive, but I shall judge the fate of your behostaged family by the results of the Psychic Probe."

And as Riose leaned over to take out the message capsule, Barr lifted the crystal-enveloped bust of Cleon and quietly and methodically brought it down upon the general's head.

It happened too suddenly for Devers to grasp. It was as if a sudden demon had grown into the old man.

"Out!" said Barr, in a tooth-clenched whisper. "Quickly!" He seized Riose's dropped blaster and buried it in his blouse.

Sergeant Luk turned as they emerged from the narrowest possible crack of the door.

Barr said easily, "Lead on, sergeant!"

Devers closed the door behind him.

Sergeant Luk led in silence to their quarters, and then, with the briefest pause, continued onward, for there was the nudge of a blast-gun muzzle in his ribs, and a hard voice in his ears which said, "To the trade ship."

Devers stepped forward to open the air lock, and Barr said, "Stand where you are, Luk. You've been a decent man, and we're not going to kill you."

But the sergeant recognized the monogram on the gun. He cried in choked fury, "You've killed the general."

With a wild, incoherent yell, he charged blindly upon the blasting fury of the gun and collapsed in blasted ruin.

The trade ship was rising above the dead planet before the signal lights began their eerie blink aaaaagainst the creamy cobweb of the great Lens in the sky which was the Galaxy, other black forms rose.

Devers said grimly, "Hold tight, Barr ?and let's see if they've got a ship that can match my speed."

He knew they hadn't!

And once in open space, the trader's voice seemed lost and dead as he said, "The line I fed Brodrig was a little too good. It seems as if he's thrown in with the general."

Swiftly they raced into the depths of the star-mass that was the Galaxy.
第七章 贿赂
　　莫里•路克中亡是一位模范军人，来自昂宿星团的巨大农业世界。在那里的居民，如果想要脱离土地的羁绊，不愿意终生从事单调、辛劳而没有成就感的工作，唯一的办法就是投身军旅。
路克中士就是这一类军人的典型。他的思想单纯，作战不畏艰险，而强健矫捷的身手，又足以使他轻易地过关斩将。他对于命令绝对服从，带领部下铁面无私，对于他的将军则崇拜得五体投地。
虽然是一个如此标准的职业军人，路克的天性却很活泼开朗。即使他在战场上奋勇杀敌的时候，绝对没有丝毫犹豫，但是心中也从来没有一丝恨意。
路克中士在进门之前，竟然先按了一下叫门的讯号，这个举动更表现出他的礼貌与修养。因为在他的权限之内，他绝对可以直接开门进去。
屋内的两个人正在用晚餐，看到路克中士走进来，其中的一个人把脚一伸，将一台破烂的口袋型阅读机关了起来，原来充满室内喋喋下休的粗哑声音立刻消失。
“又送书来了吗？”拉珊•迪伐斯问道。
中士掏出一个紧紧卷成圆柱形的胶卷，搔了搔脖子，然后说：“这是欧雷技师的东西，还要还给他。他准备把它寄给他的孩子，当作纪念品。”
杜森•巴尔将胶卷拿在手上来回地翻弄着，看起来很有兴趣的样子。他问中上说：“欧雷技师是从哪里弄来这东西的？他并没有阅读机，对不对？”
中士用力地摇摇头，然后又指了指床脚那台破烂的机器：“那是这里唯一的一台。那个家伙，欧雷，他的这本书，是从我们征服的那些猪窝般的世界中找到的。那个世界的人将它郑重地单独藏在一栋大楼中。有几个人试图阻止他，结果都被他杀了。”
中亡以赞赏的眼光看着那个胶卷：“这的确是一个很好的纪念品——对于孩子们来说。”
他顿了一顿，然后又特别压低声音道：“对了，目前有一个大消息正在流传，虽然还只是谣言，但我还是忍不住要告诉你们——将军又完成了一件大事。”然后他缓慢而严肃地点了点头。
“是吗？”迪伐斯追问：“他又做了什么？”
“完成了大包围网，就是这件事。”中士咯咯笑着，显得既得意又骄傲：“他真是一个绝顶人物，能把事情做得这么精彩，你们说对不对？有一个说话非常夸张的哥儿们，说它就像是天籁仙乐一般完美，虽然谁也不知道仙乐有多好听。”
“那么大规模进攻就要开始了？”巴尔轻声问道。
“希望如此，”中士兴高采烈地回答：“我想要回到星舰去，我的武器都已经准备好了，我实在不愿意再把屁股黏在这个地方。”
“我也一样。”迪伐斯突然粗声地喃喃说道，牙齿轻轻咬着下唇，看来有点担心的样子。
中士以怀疑的目光瞪着他，然后说：“我该走啦，队长快要开始巡逻了，不能让他发现我在这里。”
他走到门口，又停了下来。
“先生，还有一件事——”他突然现出些许不好意思的神情，对行商说：“我老婆告诉我，你送给我们的那台小型冷藏器非常管用，根本不用花钱添加能源。她可以用它冷藏几乎整整一个月的食物，真是太感谢你了。”
“一点小意思，别客气。”
然后大门无声无息地打开，又重重地关上，把中士露齿的笑容关在门外。
巴尔从椅子上站了起来，对迪伐斯说：“好，他拿了你那台冷藏器，现在送来这个作为回报。让我们来看看这本新书吧，啊，书名不见了。”
巴尔将胶卷拉开一码，对着光线看了一下，然后喃喃说道：“嗯，迪伐斯，我确定这本书是‘萨马花园’。套句中士的话，如果我猜得不对，让你把我串在棍子上烤来吃。”
“是吗？”行商对那本书显然兴趣缺缺。他将没吃完的晚餐推到一边，再对巴尔说：“巴尔，你坐下来。听这种古代文学作品，对我一点用处也没有，你注意到中士讲的话了？”
“当然注意到了，那又怎么样？”
“进攻就要开始了，而我们还枯坐在这里！”
“那么你想要坐在哪里？”
“你知道我的意思，这样子等下去不是办法。”
“不是办法吗？”巴尔仔细将阅读机上原来的胶卷取下来，又将刚收到的那卷装上去，才回答说：“这一个月以来，你跟我讲了许多有关基地的历史。好像过去每当危机来临时，那些伟大的领导者几乎都是什么也不做，光是坐在那里——守株待兔。”
“哎呀，巴尔，但是他们知道局势将如何发展。”
“他们知道吗？我想是在事过境迁之后，他们才声称早就胸有成竹的。不过据我所知，他们也许真的有先见之明。但是就算他们没有先见之明，也没有任何证据显示，结局就不会那么完美——也许还会更好呢。因为深层的社会与经济巨流，绝不是任何个人的力量所能主导的。”
迪伐斯却嘲笑他说：“可是，我们也没有办法证明，结局不会因此变得更糟，你的推理实在没有什么道理。”
他出神地沉思了一下，然后又说：“你想想看，如果我把他给做掉——”
“谁？里欧思吗？”
“是的。”
巴尔叹了一口气，立刻想起了尘封的往事，一对老眼透出了困惑的神色：“迪伐斯，行刺不是办法，我曾经试过一次，当时我才二十岁，一时冲动，可是却根本没有解决任何问题。我替西维纳除掉了一个恶霸，却无法除去帝国的桎梏。然而，问题的症结却是那个桎梏，而不在于有没有恶霸。”
“老学究，可是里欧思却不只是恶霸，他代表了整个该死的舰队武力。如果他消失了，他旗下的官兵全都会作鸟兽散。他的手下个个都像婴儿一般仰赖他，像刚才那个中士，每次提到他的时候，都会不自禁地悠然神往。”
“即使真的这样做了，帝国还有其他的军队，还有其他的指挥官，你应该想得更远一点。比如说，布洛缀克也来到了这里，再也没有任何人像他那样受大帝的宠信。里欧思只能靠十艘星舰苦战，布洛缀克却能够一下子就要到好几百艘。有关这个大臣的传闻，我听说的很多。”
“是吗？他这个人怎么样？”行商对这个话题好像很感兴趣，但是眼光中却又流露出明显的挫折感。
“你想要我简单地说说吗？好，他是一个出身卑微的家伙，靠着无穷的谄媚赢得了大帝的欢心。宫廷中所有的王公大臣都恨透了他——虽然他们也没有一个是好东西——因为他既没有显赫的家族背景，又不具备谦恭有礼的品行。他是大帝的万能顾问，大大小小一切事务全部包办。他是替大帝执行最不堪任务的工具。他的心里头根本没有大帝，可是又必须表现得忠心耿耿。在整个帝国中，找不到另一个像他那么邪恶诡诈，又那么残忍成性的人。大家都在说，想要得到大帝的赏识，必须经过他的安排；而想要得到他的帮助，就非得走旁门左道不可。”
“唔！”迪伐斯若有所思地扯着修剪整齐的胡子：“而他就是大帝派到这里来，负责监视里欧思的那个老家伙。你知道吗？我又想到了一个主意。”
“现在我能猜到了。”
“假如说，布洛缀克对这位官兵的最爱，起了反感的话——”
“也许他早已经如此了，从来没有听说他喜欢过任何人。”
“假如他们之间的关系变得很糟，那么大帝就可能会知道，这样里欧思就会有麻烦了。”
“嗯——这点很有可能，可是你准备怎么做呢？”
“我还不知道，但是我想他应该会接受贿赂。”
老贵族轻声笑道：“没错，不过绝对不简单，不会像你贿赂那位中士一样，用台袖珍冷藏器就能打发。而且即使你真的填饱了他的胃口，也会落得血本无归——他大概是天地间最容易贿赂的人，但却一点也不遵守游戏规则。不论你给他多少钱，他也随时可能翻脸不认人，你得想想别的办法。”
迪伐斯翘起二郎腿来回地摇蔽，脚趾头还不停地屈伸着。他说：“至少，这是一个初步的建议——”
此时叫门的讯号又珊笏起来，迪伐斯即时住了口。路克中士随即又在门口出现，他看来十分激动，宽大的脸庞涨得通红，脸上没有任何笑容。
“先生，”他开始说话，尽力想表现得很尊重对方：“我非常感谢你们送我的冷藏器，你们对我讲话又非常礼貌。虽然我只是一个农家子弟，而你们却都是高贵的贵族。”
他那昂宿星团特有的口音越来越重，几乎令人有点听不太懂。而他又因为极为激动，所以农人木讷的天性全都浮现出来，掩盖了长久艰苦训练而成的军人架式。
巴尔柔声问道：“中士，究竟发生了什么事情？”
“布洛缀克大人要来看你们，就是明天！我知道，因为队长命令我让手下准备好，说明天有……明天他要来检阅。我想……我应该先来警告你们一声。”
巴尔说：“中士，谢谢你，我们很感激你的关心。不过，不会有什么事情的，你不必……”
但是路克中士的表情明显地充满恐惧，他压低了声音，哑着嗓子道：“你们没有听过有关他的传闻，他已经将自己的灵魂出卖给‘宇宙邪灵’了。不，不要笑，我听过许多关于他的传说，净是些可怕之极的事情。据说他不论到哪里去，身边都会带着武装侍卫，当他心血来潮时，就会命令他们射杀遇到的每一个人。而他们真的照做，他便开心地哈哈大笑。据说连大帝都怕他，就是他强迫大帝增加赋税，而又不让大帝听到百姓的抱怨。
“而且大家都说，说他憎恶我们的将军。据说他想要杀害将军，因为他嫉妒将军人格伟大又才智过人。可是他办不到！因为将军也不是好欺负的，他早就知道布洛缀克大人是个坏东西。”
中士眨了眨眼睛，感到自己太过失态了，突然很不好意思地笑了一下。然后他就向门口走了过去，又猛力点了点头：“你们记住我的话，要小心提防他。”他一低头，就走到了门外。
迪伐斯抬起头来，一本正经地说：“如此正中我们的下怀，对吗，老学究？”
巴尔却冷淡地回答：“那还得看布洛缀克的态度如何，对不对？”
但是迪伐斯已经陷入了沉思，并没有听到巴尔说的话。
他在很用心地计划着。
布洛缀克大人低着头，走进了太空商船狭窄的舱房。两名武装警卫紧紧跟在后面，手中大刺刺地举着武器，脸上带着职业杀手般冷峻的表情。
从这位枢密大臣的外表看来，实在看不出他已经将灵魂出卖了。如果宇宙邪灵真的收买了他，他也掩饰得一点都不露痕迹。相反地，布洛缀克像是带来了一丝宫廷中的华丽，为这个单调粗陋的军事基地，注入了一点高贵的生气。
他所穿的服装笔挺合身而一尘不染，并且闪耀着炫目的光辉，给人一种高大挺拔的假相。从他那双冷酷无情的眼睛中，射出两道冷冽的目光，正沿着长长的鼻子直射到行商的身上。当他以优雅的姿态，将象牙手杖拄到地面时，腕上戴的珍珠母饰品轻微地晃动，带起了一阵悦耳的声响。
“不，”他一面说，一面做了一个小手势：“你待在这里别动，不必展示那些玩具了，我根本对那些东西没有兴趣。”
他拉过一张椅子，用附在白色手杖顶端、散发着晕彩的方巾仔细擦拭了一番，然后才放心地坐了下来。
迪伐斯向另外一张椅子看了一眼，但是布洛缀克却懒洋洋地说：“在帝国的高级贵族面前，没有你的坐位。”
说完，他又对迪伐斯微微一笑。
迪伐斯耸耸肩道：“如果你对我的货品根本没有兴趣，干嘛把我带来？”
枢密大臣默然不语，迪伐斯又轻轻叫了一声：“大人——”
“为了避人耳目。”大臣答道：“你想想看，我在太空中奔波了两百秒差距，像是专程来检视你那些小饰物的吗？其实，我真正要见的是你这个人。”
说完，布洛缀克从一个雕工精美的盒子中，取出了一粒粉红色药片，以优雅的姿势将它咬在两排牙齿间，伸出舌头慢慢舔着，看来很有滋味的样子。
“比方说，”他终于继续说下去：“你是什么人？你真是那个世界的公民吗？我是说，那个引起这场军事风暴的蛮子世界。”
迪伐斯郑重其事地点了点头。
“此外，你真的是在这场争端——就是他口中所谓的战争——发生之后，才被他抓到的吗？我是指我们这位年轻有为的将军。”
迪伐斯又点了点头。
“这样的话，非常好！尊贵的异邦朋友，我注意到你实在很不会讲话，就让我帮你说吧。如今的情势是这样的，我们这位将军，似乎正在进行一场显然没有意义的战争，可是却消耗了极可观的人力物力。他用这种方式，攻打一个名不见经传、偏远蛮荒、芝麻大小的世界，任何有头脑的人，都会认为根本不值得为此浪费一枪一弹。话又说回来，这位将军却又不是一个没有头脑的人，反之，我还认为他聪明绝顶，你听得懂我在说什么吗？”
“大人，我不敢说我懂。”
大臣一面审视着自己的指甲，一面说道：“那么再给我好好听下去——将军绝不肯为了徒劳无功的行动，牺牲他的部下和船舰。我知道他一向把自己的荣誉和帝国的光荣挂在嘴边，然而很明显的，他是装作想要效法古代的传奇英雄。可是这套把戏唬得了别人却唬不了我，除了追求荣誉之外，他一定还另有所谋。他何必把你留在身边，又何必对你十分礼遇？这也是很匪夷所思的事。如果你落在我的手上，却只能对我提供那么一点点情报的话，我早就把你开膛破肚，用你自己的肠子把你勒死了。”
迪伐斯仍然一副木然的表情，缓缓转动的眼珠看到了大臣身边的一名保镳，然后视线再转开一点，又看到了旁边的另一个。他看得出来，那两个保镳都已经跃跃欲试了。
大臣又微笑着说：“好吧，你这个沉默的小钡蛋。将军告诉我说，即使是心灵探测器对你也起不了作用，还说那是因为仪器有毛病。可是他这么说，却反而更让我深信，我们这位年轻的军事天才在撒谎。”他似乎非常地得意。
然后，大臣又继续说：“老实的生意人啊，听好，我自己这里也有一种心灵探测器，应该对你特别有效。你看——”
在他的拇指与食指之间，此时轻轻捏着一叠——粉红与黄色栢间，图案复杂而精美的——那是一叠什么东西，实在是再明显不过了。
“看起来像是钞票？”迪伐斯道。
“这不是普通的钞票，是帝国境内最佳的纸钞。因为全都是以我的领地作担保，而我的领地范围比大帝的领地还大。这里总共是十万点，全都在这里。就在我的两指之间，通通可以给你！”
“大人，为什么要给我钱呢？我是一名道地的行商，懂得买卖总是一手交钱，一手交货。”
“为什么？为了让你讲实话！将军到底在图谋什么？他为什么要发动战争？”
迪伐斯叹了一口气，若有所思地抚着胡子。
此时大臣正在慢慢地数着那些钱，迪伐斯的眼睛盯着大臣的手，跟他一张一张地数着，然后乾脆地回答：“他在图谋什么？简单一句话，就是帝国。”
“哈，这种答案太过稀松平常！哪一个图谋不轨的人，最后的目的不是想当皇帝——可是他要怎么做呢？从这个偏远的银河边缘，到那个魅力无比的皇宫之间，这条路他要怎么走？”
迪伐斯以苦涩的口气说：“基地中藏有许多重大的秘密，因为那里收藏许多书籍，都是古书——那些古书由于年代久远，上面的文宇几乎失传了，只有几个居于最上位的人看得懂。但是那些秘密隐藏在宗教与仪典中，不准人动。我以身试法，结果就落得今天这个下场——在那里，我已经被宣判死刑了。”
“我明白了，那么这些古老的秘密又是什么呢？继续说，我花十万点的代价，理应买到一切的详情和细节。”
“就是人工嬗变的技术。”迪伐斯回答得很简单。
大臣的眼睛眯起来，开始表现得有些兴趣了。他问道：“据我所知，根据核子学的定律，以人工达成元素的嬗变，根本没有实用的价值。”
“没错，那指的是纯粹使用核能的情况。但是古人还真聪明，早就发现了比核能更巨大更基本的能源。如果基地使用那种能源的话……”
迪伐斯感到胃部起了一阵轻微的蠕动——钓饵已在晃动，鱼儿也已经闻到了。
大臣突然吼道：“继续说，那个将军，我确信他也晓得这件事。但是当他结束这场闹剧之后，下一步又打算怎么做？”
迪伐斯竭力让自己的声音稳如磐石：“当里欧思掌握了嬗变的技术之后，就可以控制帝国所有的经济体系。如果他可以轻易地用铝制造钨、用铁制造铱的时候，帝国的矿藏就变得根本一文不值。过去的产销系统，都是根据各种元素不同的丰盈程度而建立的，这样一来，就会全部被推翻了。帝国内部将会出现前所未有的大混乱，只有里欧思一个人能够阻止。我刚才提到的那种新能源，还有另外一项优点，就是不会为里欧思带来宗教上的心理负担。
“如今，已经没有什么可以阻止他了。他已经扼住了基地的咽喉，而他一旦征服了基地，两年以内一定能够成为新皇帝。”
“原来如此。”布洛缀克轻声笑道：“你刚才怎么说的？用铁来制造铱，对不对？来，让我也告诉你一件国家机密，你可知道，基地已经主动跟将军接触了。”
迪伐斯陡然感到背脊都僵住了。
“你看来很吃惊，这又有何不可呢？现在看来，一切都很合逻辑了。基地为了求和，向他提出年缴一百吨铱的提议。也就是说，现在他们宁愿违反宗教的禁忌，愿意将一百吨的铁变成铱来解危。这个提议很公平，但是，怪不得我们那位守正不阿的将军会断然拒绝——因为他马上就可以自行制造铱金属，并且能把帝国都给弄到手。可怜的克里昂二世，还称许他是最忠诚的将军呢。大胡子商人，你已经赚到这笔钱了。”
说完，他就用力一掷，迪伐斯立刻到处追赶四散纷飞的钞票。
布洛缀克大人走到了舱门口，又转身说：“行商，记住一件事——我这些带着枪的游伴，他们不但是聋子、哑巴，而且没有什么脑筋，也没有受过教育。他们不能听、不能说、不会写字，也不会对心灵探测器有任何反应。但是对于各种各样新奇的杀人手法，他们却是专家中的专家。老兄，我花了十万点的代价，把你给收买了，你就应该乖乖地做个好商品。如果你忽然间忘记了这一点，而试图要……比如说……把我们之间的谈话转述给里欧思，那么你就会被处死，而且是以我所指定的方式处死。”
在布洛缀克优雅高贵的脸上，突然浮现出许多狰狞的线条，原本做作出来的微笑，也一下子变成了骇人的嗥叫。在这一瞬间，迪伐斯看到了他的买主的买主——宇宙邪灵，正藉着这位买主的眼睛在向外瞪视。
迪伐斯不发一语，在布洛缀克的两名“游伴”押解之下，走回了自己的房间。
面对着巴尔的问题，他先沉思了一会儿，再以很满意的口气说：“不，说来可真是奇怪，我反而让他给贿赂了。”
两个月的艰苦征战，在贝尔•里欧思的身上刻划出了痕迹。他整个人笼罩在凝重的严肃气氛之中，而且变得暴躁易怒。
现在，他就正用很不耐烦的口气，向对他崇拜不已的路克中士说：“中士，你在外面等着，等我问完了话，再把这两个人送回他们的房间。没有我的命令，任何人不准进入，任何人都不准，听懂了没有？”
中士行了一个标准的军礼之后，就走到门外去了。里欧思心烦气躁地抓起桌上待批的公文，将它们一古脑儿丢进最上层的抽屉，然后再用力把抽屉关起来。
“坐啊。”他对站在面前的两个人不耐烦地说：“我没有多少时间，严格说起来，我根本不应该来这里，可是我又必须跟你们见一面。”
他转身面向巴尔。老贵族站在一个方正的水晶饰物前，正用他细长的手指抚摸玩赏。水晶的内部镶嵌着当今的大帝——克里昂二世满脸皱纹而威严无比的肖像。
“老贵族，首先我要告诉你，”将军开始说：“你的哈里•谢顿就要输了。当然，‘他’打得很好，基地的战士一波波蜂拥而出，个个都不要命似的英勇作战。每一个行星都做了激烈的反抗，而一旦被攻下来之后，又毫无例外地兴起反抗活动，给征服者带来无穷的麻烦。可是，它们终究还是被我们攻下，也终于被占领住了，所以你的谢顿眼看就要输了。”
“可是他还没有输。”巴尔恭敬地轻声回答。
“基地已经没有指望了，他们想用重金求和，求我别对谢顿做最后的考验。”
“正如谣言所说的一样。”
“啊，谣言来得比我还快吗？有没有提到最新的发展？”
“什么最新的发展？”
“喔，那个布洛缀克大人，大帝最宠爱的大臣，由于他自己的要求，现在已经是远征舰队的副总司令。”
迪伐斯这时才第一次开口：“头儿，由于他自己的要求？这是怎么搞的？还是你开始对他产生好感了？”说完他就忍不住咯咯大笑起来。
里欧思却镇定地说：“不，不能说是我改变了对他的观感，是他用了我认为很合理、很足够的代价，跟我换得这个职位。”
“比方说？”
“比方说，他答应向大帝要求增援。”
迪伐斯轻蔑的笑意更浓了：“他已经和大帝联络过了，啊？头儿，我想你现在一定充满希望地在等待增援舰队，他们答应早晚会来的，对不对？”
“你错了！他们已经来了。五艘星舰组成的舰队，每一艘都性能良好、武力强大，带着大帝的亲笔祝福函前来，还有更多的星舰正在途中——怎么了，行商，有什么不对劲吗？”他以讽刺的口吻问道。
迪伐斯从突然僵住的口唇中，勉强吐出了几个字：“没有什么。”
里欧思从办公桌后面走出来，面对着行商，一手放在腰际的核铳上。
“我问你，行商，有什么不对劲吗？这个消息似乎令你很不安。当然，你不会突然关心起基地的安危吧？”
“我没有。”
“有——而且，你还有很多古怪的地方。”
“哦，是吗？”迪伐斯的微笑看来很不自然，双手在口袋中握紧成拳头：“你通通提出来好了，我来为你逐一解释。”
“你听好了——你被捕的过程太容易了，你的太空船只受到一次攻击，防护罩就被摧毁，而你就投降了。你也太轻易就背弃了自己的世界，而且根本没有要求代价。这些都很令人起疑，你说对不对？”
“我渴望投靠胜利的一方，头儿，我是一个识相的人，这可是你自己说的。”
“姑且接受。”里欧思声音嘶哑地说：“然而，在你之后，我们再也没有逮捕到任何行商。基地的每一艘太空商船都速度奇快，他们只要想逃，都能轻易逃过我们的追击。而那些奋力迎战的，每一艘也都有强力的屏蔽，足以抵挡轻型巡弋舰的攻击。只要情况允许，每一个行商都宁愿战死也不投降。在我们所占领的行星上与星空中，那些游击战的组织者与领导者，他们原来的身分也都是行商。
“难道你是唯一识相的人吗？你既不抵抗又不逃走，还自动自发地藉机出卖了基地。你可真特殊，特殊得真奇怪，事实上，特殊得太可疑了。”
迪伐斯却轻声说道：“我懂得你的意思了，但是你根本没有什么具体证据。我在这里已经六个月了，这段时间中我一直都很安分。”
“你的确很安分，我也因此待你不薄，我没有动过你的太空船，对你也处处设想周到。可是你却令我失望了，其实你还可以提供更多的情报给我，比方说吧，你推销的那些装置，也许就对我们很有用。那些核能装置所应用的核子学原理在基地发展出的许多难缠的武器中，想必也都用上了，对不对？”
“我只是个行商，”迪伐斯说：“并不是一名伟大的技师。我只负责兜售那些货品，怎么制造的不关我的事。”
“好吧，这一点我们很快就可以知道，这就是我到此地来的目的。比如说，我要到你的太空船去仔细搜一搜，看看有没有个人力场防护罩，你自己虽然没有佩戴，可是基地每一个战士的身上都有。如果给我搜到的话，那就是一个很重要的证据，证明你有意保留一些情报，对不对？”
迪伐斯没有回答，里欧思又继续说下去：“我还能够取得更直接的证据，我将心灵探测器也带来了。虽然它上次突然失灵，不过跟敌人打交道，可是一门很深奥的学问。”
他的声音现在充满了威胁的意味，迪伐斯还感觉到有东西抵住他的胸口——那是将军的核铳，刚从皮套中掏出来的。
将军又以平稳的口气说：“你把手上戴的手镯摘掸，把身上其他的金属饰物，也全部除下来交给我。动作慢一点！电磁场贬被干扰，你应该知道，心灵探测器只能在静电场中工作。对，就照这样，把它给我。”
此时，将军办公桌上的收讯器突然后了起来，一个信囊随即出现在传送槽中。
里欧思走到办公桌旁，用核铳比着一直站在桌旁的巴尔：“老贵族，你也一样，你也戴了手镯，所以也有嫌疑。虽然你帮了不少忙，我对你也没有任何恨意，但是，我要看看心灵探测器的结果，然后才能决定你一家人的命运。”
说完，里欧思俯身要去取那信囊。巴尔突然举起镶着皇帝立体肖像的水晶，出其不意地往将军头上砸去。
迪伐斯被这个突如其来的变化吓呆了，仿佛老人忽然间被恶魔附身一样。
“走！”巴尔压低声音道：“赶快！”说完，他将掉在地上的核铳拾了起来，藏进自己的上衣。
当他们将门推开一个窄缝，钻出办公室时，发现路克中士仍旧等在外面。
中士立刻转过头来，巴尔故作镇定地说：“中士，带路吧。”
迪伐斯则赶紧把门关了起来。
路克中士一言不发地将他们带回房间，来到门口之后，他陡然顿了一下，然后三人又继续向前走。因为此时已经有一把核铣指着中士的肋骨，他的耳旁还有一个严厉的声音说：“带我们到太空商船去。”
到达太空商船停泊处后，迪伐斯走到前面去开气闸，巴尔对中亡说：“路克，你就站在那里别动。你是一个老好人，我们不想杀你。”
不料此时中士认出了核铳上镂刻的字母，脱口吼道：“你们杀了将军！”
然后，他发出一声疯狂而毫无意义的叫喊，奋力向前扑了过去，却正好撞上核铳冒出的烈焰，顿时变作一团惨不忍睹的焦炭。
不久之后，太空商船从这个死寂的行星起飞。又过了一会儿，强烈的信号灯才射出阴森的光芒，交织成一片淡黄色的蛛网。在银河巨型透镜状的背景中，另外又有许多黑影腾空而起。
迪伐斯绷着睑说：“巴尔，抓紧啦。让我们看看，他们到底追不追得上我们的船舰。”
不过他心里很明白，答案绝对是否定的。
他们进入外太空后，迪伐斯的声音已几近嘶哑：“我给布洛缀克吃的饵恐怕太香了一点，他现在似乎跟将军站在一条线上了。”
卑还没有说完，他们已经冲进银河稠密的群星之间。
8. TO TRANTOR


Devers bent over the little dead globe, watching for a tiny sign of life. The directional control was slowly and thoroughly sieving space with its jabbing tight sheaf of signals.

Barr watched patiently from his seat on the low cot in the comer, He asked, "No more signs of them?"

"The Empire boys? No." The trader growled the words with evident impatience. "We lost the scuppers long ago. Space! With the blind jumps we took through hyperspace, it's lucky we didn't land up in a sun's belly. They couldn't have followed us even if they outranged us, which they didn't."

He sat back and loosened his collar with a jerk. "I don't know what those Empire boys have done here. I think some of the gaps are out of alignment."

"I take it, then, you're trying to get to the Foundation."

"I'm calling the Association ?or trying to."

"The Association? Who are they?"

"Association of Independent Traders. Never heard of it, huh? Well, you're not alone. We haven't made our splash yet!"

For a while there was a silence that centered about the unresponsive Reception Indicator, and Barr said, "Are you within range?"

"I don't know. I haven't but a small notion where we are, going by dead reckoning. That's why I have to use directional control. It could take years, you know."

"Might it?"

Barr pointed; and Devers jumped and adjusted his earphones. Within the little murky sphere there was a tiny glowing whiteness.

For half an hour, Devers nursed the fragile, groping thread of communication that reached through hyperspace to connect two points that laggard light would take five hundred years to bind together.

Then he sat back, hopelessly. He looked up, and shoved the earphones back.

"Let's eat, doc. There's a needle-shower you can use if you want to, but go easy on the hot water."

He squatted before one of the cabinets that lined one wall and felt through the contents. "You're not a vegetarian, I hope?"

Barr said, "I'm omnivorous. But what about the Association. Have you lost them?"

"Looks so. It was extreme range, a little too extreme. Doesn't matter, though. I got all that counted."

He straightened, and placed the two metal containers upon the table. "Just give it five minutes, doc, then slit it open by pushing the contact. It'll be plate, food, and fork ?sort of handy for when you're in a hurry, if you're not interested in such incidentals as napkins. I suppose you want to know what I got out of the Association."

"If it isn't a secret."

Devers shook his head. "Not to you. What Riose said was true."

"About the offer of tribute?"

"Uh-huh. They offered it, and had it refused. Things are bad. There's fighting in the outer suns of Loris."

"Loris is close to the Foundation?"

"Huh? Oh, you wouldn't know. It's one of the original Four Kingdoms. You might call it part of the inner line of defense. That's not the worst. They've been fighting large ships previously never encountered. Which means Riose wasn't giving us the works. He has received more ships. Brodrig has switched sides, and I have messed things up."

His eyes were bleak as he joined the food-container contact-points and watched it fall open neatly. The stewlike dish steamed its aroma through the room. Ducem Barr was already eating.

"So much," said Barr, "for improvisations, then. We can do nothing here; we can not cut through the Imperial lines to return to the Foundation; we can do nothing but that which is most sensible ?to wait patiently. However, if Riose has reached the inner line I trust the wait will not be too long."

And Devers put down his fork. "Wait, is it?" he snarled, glowering. "That's all right for you. You've got nothing at stake."

"Haven't I?" Barr smiled thinly.

"No. In fact, I'll tell you." Devers' irritation skimmed the surface. "I'm tired of looking at this whole business as if it were an interesting something-or-other on a microscope slide. I've got friends somewhere out there, dying; and a whole world out there, my home, dying also. You're an outsider. You don't know."

"I have seen friends die." The old man's hands were limp in his lap and his eyes were closed. "Are you married?"

Devers said, "Traders don't marry."

"Well, I have two sons and a nephew. They have been warned, but ?for reasons ?they could take no action. Our escape means their death. My daughter and my two grandchildren have, I hope, left the planet safety before this, but even excluding them, I have already risked and lost more than you."

Devers was morosely savage. "I know. But that was a matter of choice. You might have played ball with Riose. I never asked you to?

Barr shook his head. "It was not a matter of choice, Devers. Make your conscience free, I didn't risk my sons for you. I co-operated with Riose as long as I dared. But there was the Psychic Probe."

The Siwennian patrician opened his eyes and they were sharp with pain. "Riose came to me once; it was over a year ago. He spoke of a cult centering about the magicians, but missed the truth. It is not quite a cult. You see, it is forty years now that Siwenna has been gripped in the same unbearable vise that threatens your world. Five revolts have been ground out. Then I discovered the ancient records of Hari Seldon ?and now this 'cult' waits.

"It waits for the coming of the 'magicians' and for that day it is ready. My sons are leaders of those who wait. It is that secret which is in my mind and which the Probe must never touch. And so they must die as hostages; for the alternative is their death as rebels and half of Siwenna with them. You see, I had no choice! And I am no outsider."

Devers' eyes fell, and Barr continued softly, "It is on a Foundation victory that Siwenna's hopes depend. It is for a Foundation victory that my sons are sacrificed. And Hari Seldon does not pre-calculate the inevitable salvation of Siwenna as he does that of the Foundation. I have no certainty for my people ?only hope."

"But you are still satisfied to wait. Even with the Imperial Navy at Loris."

"I would wait, in perfect confidence," said Barr, simply, "if they had landed on the planet, Terminus, itself."

The trader frowned hopelessly. "I don't know. It can't really work like that; not just like magic. Psychohistory or not, they're terribly strong, and we're weak. What can Setdon do about it?"

"There's nothing to do. It's all already done. It's proceeding now. Because you don't hear the wheels turning and the gongs beating doesn't mean it's any the less certain."

"Maybe; but I wish you had cracked Riose's skull for keeps. He's more the enemy than all his army."

"Cracked his skull? With Brodrig his second in command?" Barr's face sharpened with hate. "All Siwenna would have been my hostage. Brodrig has proven his worth long since. There exists a world which five years ago lost one male in every ten ?and simply for failure to meet outstanding taxes. This same Brodrig was the tax-collector. No, Riose may live. His punishments are mercy in comparison."

"But six months, six months, in the enemy Base, with nothing to show for it." Devers' strong hands clasped each other tautly, so that his knuckles cracked. "Nothing to show for it!"

"Well, now, wait. You remind me? Barr fumbled in his pouch. "You might want to count this." And he tossed the small sphere of metal on the table.

Devers snatched it. "What is it?"

"The message capsule. The one that Riose received just before I jacked him. Does that count as something?"

"I don't know. Depends on what's in it!" Devers sat down and turned it over carefully in his hand.

When Barr stepped from his cold shower and, gratefully, into the mild warm current of the air dryer, he found Devers silent and absorbed at the workbench.

The Siwennian slapped his body with a sharp rhythm and spoke above the punctuating sounds. "What are you doing?"

Devers looked up. Droplets of perspiration glittered in his beard. "I'm going to open this capsule."

"Can you open it without Riose's personal characteristic?" There was mild surprise in the Siwennian's voice.

"If I can't, I'll resign from the Association and never skipper a ship for what's left of my life. I've got a three-way electronic analysis of the interior now, and I've got little jiggers that the Empire never heard of, especially made for jimmying capsules. I've been a burglar before this, y'know. A trader has to be something of everything."

He bent low over the little sphere, and a small flat instrument probed delicately and sparked redly at each fleeting contact.

He said, "This capsule is a crude job, anyway. These Imperial boys are no shakes at this small work. I can see that. Ever see a Foundation capsule? It's half the size and impervious to electronic analysis in the first place."

And then he was rigid, the shoulder muscles beneath his tunic tautening visibly. His tiny probe pressed slowly?

It was noiseless when it came, but Devers; relaxed and sighed. In his hand was the shining sphere with its message unrolled like a parchment tongue.

"It's from Brodrig," he said. Then, with contempt, "The message medium is permanent. In a Foundation capsule, the message would be oxidized to gas within the minute."

But Ducem Barr waved him silent. He read the message quickly.

FROM: AMMEL BRODRIG, ENVOY EXTRAORDINARY OF HIS IMPERIAL MAJESTY, PRIVY SECRETARY OF THE COUNCIL, AND PEER OF THE REALM.

TO: BEL RIOSE, MILITARY GOVERNOR OF SIWENNA. GENERAL OF THE IMPERIAL FORCES, AND PEER OF THE REALM. I GREET YOU.

PLANET #1120 NO LONGER RESISTS. THE PLANS OF OFFENSE AS OUTLINED CONTINUE SMOOTHLY. THE ENEMY WEAKENS VISIBLY AND THE ULTIMATE ENDS IN VIEW WILL SURELY BE GAINED.

Barr raised his head from the almost microscopic print and cried bitterly, "The fool! The forsaken blasted fop! That a message?"

"Huh?" said Devers. He was vaguely disappointed.

"It says nothing," ground out Barr. "Our lick-spittle courtier is playing at general now. With Riose away, he is the field commander and must sooth his paltry spirit by spewing out his pompous reports concerning military affairs he has nothing to do with. 'So-and-so planet no longer resists.' 'The offensive moves on.' 'The enemy weakens.' The vacuum-headed peacock."

"Well, now, wait a minute. Hold on?

"Throw it away." The old man turned away in mortification. "The Galaxy knows I never expected it to be world-shakingly important, but in wartime it is reasonable to assume that even the most routine order left undelivered might hamper military movements and lead to complications later. It's why I snatched it. But this! Better to have left it. It would have wasted a minute of Riose's time that will now be put to more constructive use."

But Devers had arisen. "Will you hold on and stop throwing your weight around? For Seldon's sake?

He held out the sliver of message before Barr's nose, "Now read that again. What does he mean by 'ultimate ends in view'?"

"The conquest of the Foundation. Well?"

"Yes? And maybe he means the conquest of the Empire. You know he believes that to be the ultimate end."

"And if he does?"

"If he does!" Devers' one-sided smile was lost in his beard. "Why, watch then, and I'll show you."

With one finger the lavishly monogrammed sheet of message-parchment was thrust back into its slot. With a soft twang, it disappeared and the globe was a smooth, unbroken whole again. Somewhere inside was the tiny oiled whir of the controls as they lost their setting by random movements.

"Now there is no known way of opening this capsule without knowledge of Riose's personal characteristic, is there?"

"To the Empire, no," said Barr.

"Then the evidence it contains is unknown to us and absolutely authentic."

"To the Empire, yes," said Barr.

"And the Emperor can open it, can't he? Personal Characteristics of Government officials must be on file. We keep records of our officials at the Foundation."

"At the Imperial capital as well," agreed Barr.

"Then when you, a Siwennian patrician and Peer of the Realm, tell this Cleon, this Emperor, that his favorite tame-parrot and his shiniest general are getting together to knock him over, and hand him the capsule as evidence, what will he think Brodrig's 'ultimate ends' are?"

Barr sat down weakly. "Wait, I don't follow you." He stroked one thin cheek, and said, "You're not really serious, are you?"

"I am." Devers was angrily excited. "Listen, nine out of the last ten Emperors got their throats cut, or their gizzards blasted out by one or another of their generals with bigtime notions in their heads. You told me that yourself more than once. Old man Emperor would believe us so fast it would make Riose's head swim."

Barr muttered feebly, "He is serious, For the Galaxy's sake, man, you can't beat a Seldon crisis by a far-fetched, impractical, storybook scheme like that. Suppose you had never got hold of the capsule. Suppose Brodrig hadn't used the word 'ultimate.' Seldon doesn't depend on wild luck."

"If wild luck comes our way, there's no law says Seldon can't take advantage of it."

"Certainly. But ... but," Barr stopped, then spoke calmly but with visible restraint. "Look, in the first place, how will you get to the planet Trantor? You don't know its location in space, and I certainly don't remember the co-ordinates, to say nothing of the ephemerae. You don't even know your own position in space."

"You can't get lost in space," grinned Devers. He was at the controls already. "Down we go to the nearest planet, and back we come with complete bearings and the best navigation charts Brodrig's hundred thousand smackers can buy."

"And a blaster in our belly. Our descriptions are probably in every planet in this quarter of the Empire."

"Doc," said Devers, patiently, "don't be a hick tom the sticks. Riose said my ship surrendered too easily and, brother, he wasn't kidding. This ship has enough fire-power and enough juice in its shield to hold off anything we're Rely to meet this deep inside the frontier. And we have personal shields, too. The Empire boys never found them, you know, but they weren't meant to be found."

"All fight," said Barr, "all right. Suppose yourself on Trantor. How do you see the Emperor then? You think he keeps office hours?"

"Suppose we worry about that on Trantor," said Devers.

And Barr muttered helplessly, "All right again. I've wanted to see Trantor before I die for half a century now. Have your way."

The hypernuclear motor was cut in. The lights flickered and there was the slight internal wrench that marked the shift into hyperspace.
第八章 航向川陀
　　方向控制器射出强力的讯号波束，在太空中缓慢而彻底地过滤着各个方位。拉珊•迪伐斯正俯身观察一个黯淡的小球形仪器，想要寻找任何一点反应的迹象。
杜森•巴尔坐在角落的便床上，耐心地看着迪伐斯工作。他突然问道：“没有那些家伙的踪迹了吧？”
“帝国的阿兵哥吗？没有。”行商吼道，声音中带着明显的不耐烦：“我们早就把那些王八蛋给甩掉了。老天保佑！我们在超空间中盲目地跃迁，还好没有跳进恒星的肚子里去。即使他们的速度够快，想必也不敢追来，更何况他们不可能比我们快。”
他靠向椅背，将衣领扯松：“不知道帝国那些家伙在这里动了什么手脚，我感觉有些超空间裂隙的排列被搞乱了。”
“我懂了，这么说，你是试图要回基地去。”
“我正在呼叫‘协会’——或者应该说在试着呼叫他们。”
“协会？那是什么组织？”
“是‘独立行商协会’的简称，你从来没有听说过，啊？不过，也不只你一个人没听过，因为我们还没有做出什么惊天动地的大事。”
他们沉默了一阵子，盯着毫无动静的收讯指示器，然后巴尔又问：“你确定是在通讯范围之内吗？”
“我不知道，对于目前的位置，我只有一点模糊的概念，但也只是靠盲目的推算得来的，这就是为什么我得借助方向控制器的原因。我们也许要花好几年的时间，你知道吗？”
“会不会是那个？”巴尔指了指显象板。
迪伐斯赶紧跳起来调整耳机，他也看到显象板上的一团朦胧之中，有一个微微发光的白点。
在接下来的半小时中，迪伐斯仔细控制着微弱的通讯超波。靠着这种超波波束，他可以经由超空间，在一瞬间联络到五百光年以外的地方。如果换成‘迟缓’的普通光波，则必须花上五百年的时间，才能行进那么遥远的距离。
最后，他失望地靠在椅背上，抬起头来，又将耳机向后一推。
“老学究，我们来吃点东西吧。如果你想洗澡，浴室中有高压淋浴设备，不过热水要省着点用。’然后他在舱壁旁一排柜子前蹲了下来，伸手在里面掏着，同时问巴尔说：“我希望你不是吃素的。”
巴尔回答：“我什么都能吃，但是协缓螵络得怎么样？又中断了吗？”
“似乎如此，距离太远了，实在是太远了。不过没有关系，我早就料到会有这种情形。”
然后迪伐斯站了起来，把两个金属容器放到桌子上，对巴尔说：“老学究，只要等五分钟，然后按下这个接点，它就会自动打开来。你可以用它当盘子，里面还有叉子，的确是很方便的速食，只要你不介意没有餐巾的话。我想你一定很希望知道，我从协会那里得到了什么消息。”
“如果不是什么秘密的话。”
迪伐斯摇摇头说：“对你不用保密——里欧思说的都是实情。”
“关于纳贡的事？”
“嗯——他们的确曾经做过这个提议，但是被他拒绝了。现在情况很糟糕，已经打到了洛瑞斯的外围恒星。”
“洛瑞斯距离基地很近吗？”
“啊？喔，你不可能知道的。它是当初的四王国之一，可以算是内缘防御阵线的一环，但这还不是最糟糕的。问题是，他们出动了前所未见的巨型星舰，这就代表里欧思并没有向我们吹牛，他的确得到了增援。布洛缀克见风转舵，已经倒向他那一边了，是我把所有的事情搞砸的。”
他一面说，一面把速食容器外面的接点按下，垂头丧气地看着容器灵巧地打开。容器里面是炖熟的食物，舱房中立时弥漫着香气，巴尔已经开始吃了起来。
巴尔边吃边说：“我们直到目前为止，一直都在随机应变。可是在这里我们什么也不能做，也不能突破帝国的阵线回到基地。我们唯一能够做的，也是最合理的一件事，就是耐心地等待。不过，既然里欧思已经攻到了内缘阵线，我相信也不需要等太久了。”
迪伐斯放下叉子说：“等待，如此而已？”
然后，他又瞪大了眼睛咆哮道：“你当然没有关系，反正对你也没有切身的危险。”
“我没有吗？”巴尔淡淡一笑。
“没有，其实，我告诉你，”迪伐斯的怒气已经浮上了表面：“我对于你这种态度已经厌烦透了。你把整个事件当成学术研究对象，放在显微镜底下不慌不忙地仔细观察。可是那里有我的朋友，他们已经处在生死关头，那里的整个世界，我的故乡，也快要被毁灭了。你是一个局外人，你当然不明白。”
“我也曾经亲眼看着朋友死去。”老人的双手无力地垂在膝盖上，闭起眼睛来说：“你结婚了没有？”
迪伐斯回答：“行商是不结婚的。”
“哦，我有两个儿子，还有一个侄儿，他们都接到了我的警告。但是，基于某些原因，他们不能有所行动。我俩这次逃了出来，就代表他们将被处死。我希望，至少我的女儿和两个孙儿，现在已经平安离开了那个世界。即使如此，我所冒的风险，还有我的损失，也已经比你大得多了。”
迪伐斯满脸不高兴，粗暴地说：“我知道，但是你有选择的余地。你仍然可以继续跟里欧思合作，我从来没有要求你……”
巴尔拼命摇着头：“迪伐斯，我并没有什么选择的余地，你用不着良心不安，我并非为了你而牺牲两个儿子。我决定跟里欧思合作的时候，早就已经豁出了一切，可是一旦他使用心灵探测器——”
西维纳老贵族重新睁开眼睛，眼光中流露出深沉的悲痛：“里欧思曾经来找过我一次，那是一年以前的事情。他提到了一个崇拜魔术师的教派，可是他却不了解真实内情。那并不完全是一个教派，你知道吗？已经过了四十年了，可是西维纳仍然受到帝国的高压统治。过去前后发生过五次起义事件，但是都被镇压下去。后来，我发现了哈里•谢顿的古老纪录，那个‘教派’所等待的，就是纪录中的预言。
“他们等待着‘魔术师’的到来，也已经为这一天做好了准备，我的两个儿子“私人信囊，就是里欧思被我打昏前刚收到的那一个。这个东西，能不能算有一点用处？”
“我不知道，要看里面装的是什么。”迪伐斯坐了下来，将金属球放在手中仔细端详。
当巴尔洗完了冷水浴，又在空气乾燥室，舒舒服服地享受了暖流的吹拂之后，发现迪伐斯正坐在工作台前，全神贯注默然不语。
西维纳老贵族一面拍打着自己的身体，一面扯着喉咙问道：“你在干什么？”
迪伐斯抬起头来，胡子上黏了许多后晶晶的汗珠。他回答说：“我想把这个信囊打开。”
“没有里欧思的个人特征资料，你能够把它打开吗？”巴尔的声音中带着几分惊讶。
“如果我打不开的话，我就自动退出协会，这辈子再也不涉足太空。我刚才拿三用电子分析仪，对它的内部做了详细检查，我身边还有一些小堡具，专门用来打开各种信囊。帝国根本没有人晓得有这些工具。你知道吗？我以前曾经干过小偷，一个行商什么事情都得懂一点。”
说完，他又低下头去工作，拿着一个扁平的小仪器，轻巧地探着信囊表面各处，每次的接触都带起了红色的电花。
然后迪伐斯又说：“我可以看得出来，这个信囊做得很粗陋，反正帝国的工匠对于这种小巧的东西都不在行。你看过基地出品的信囊没有？只有这个的一半大，而且能够屏蔽电子分析仪的探测。”
然后他屏气凝神，衣服下的肌肉明显地鼓胀起来，微小的探针慢慢向下压……
信囊终于悄无声息地打开了，迪伐斯这才松了一口气。他将信囊拿在手中，信笺有一半露在外面，好像是金属球吐出的舌头。
“这是布洛缀克写的信，”迪伐斯看了一下，然后又以轻蔑的语气说：“信笺用的还是普通纸张。基地所出品的信囊，打开之后，信笺在一分钟之内就会氧化变成气体。”
但是巴尔却摆手示意他别再说话，自己很快地看了一遍内容。
发文者：大帝陛下钦命特使，枢密大臣，帝国高级贵族安枚尔•布洛缀克受文者：西维纳军政府总督，帝国星际舰队将军，帝国高级贵族贝尔•里欧思谨致贺忱。
第一一二○号行星已放弃抵抗，攻击行动如预定计划继续顺利进展。敌已呈现疲弱之势，定能达成预期之最终目标。
巴尔看完了这些蝇头小字，抬起头来怒吼道：“这个傻瓜！这个矫揉做作的混蛋！这算是哪门子的密函？”
“哦？”迪伐斯也显得有些失望。
“根本什么都没有提到，”巴尔咬牙切齿地说：“这个只会谄媚、阿谀、奉承的大臣，现在竟然也扮演起将军的角色。当里欧思不在的时候，他就是前线的总指挥官，他拿这些与自己根本无关的军事行动大作文章，做出这种自大自夸的报告，完全是为了自我安慰。‘某某行星已放弃抵抗’、‘攻击继续进展’、‘敌呈疲弱之势’，他简直就是个大草包。”
“嗯，不过，慢着，等一等——”
“把它丢掉。”老贵族转过身去，一脸悔恨的表情：“天晓得，我原本也没希望它会是多了不起的重要机密，然而两军交战时，即使是最普通的例行命令，如果没有传达下去，也会使得军事行动受到干扰，影响以后若干局势。我当时就是这么想，才会把它带走的。可是这种东西！还不如把它留在那里，让它耽误里欧思一分钟的时间也好，总比如今落在我们手中更有价值。”
可是迪伐斯却站了起来：“看在谢顿的份上，能不能请你闭嘴，暂时不要发表高论？”
说完，他将信笺举到巴尔的面前：“请你再读一遍，他所谓的‘预期之最终目标’，究竟是什么意思？”
“这还用说吗？当然就是征服基地。”
“是吗？也许他指的是征服帝国呢。你也知道，他深信那才是最终的目标。”
“假使果真如此，那又如何呢？”
“果真如此的话！”迪伐斯的笑容消失在大胡子中：“那么，注意看，让我做给你看。”
迪伐斯只用了一根手指，就将那个有着龙飞凤舞标志的羊皮纸信笺塞了回去。然后金属球发出了一声轻响，信笺就消失不见，而金属球又恢复了原状，变成了光滑而没有隙缝的球体。在它的内部，还传出了一阵零件转动的响声，那是控制开关藉着随机的转动，正在将密码锁的排列搅乱。
“现在，如果没有里欧思的个人特征资料，就没有办法把这个信囊打开了，对不对？”
“对于帝国那方面而言，的确是没有办法。”巴尔附和道。
“这么说的话，它里面所装的任何证据，我们都不知道，是绝对货真价实的机密文件。”
“对于帝国那方面而言，也的确如此。”巴尔再度附和。
“可是皇帝有办法将它打开来，对不对？政府官员的个人特征一定都已建档。在基地，我们的政府就保有官员们的详细个人资料。”
“在帝国的首都也有这种资料。”巴尔第三度附和迪伐斯的话。
“那么，当你这位西维纳的贵族，向克里昂二世那位皇帝禀报，说他手下那只最乖巧的鹦鹉，和那头最勇猛的猎鹰，竟然勾结起来密谋将他推翻，并且呈上信囊为证，他会将布洛缀克写的‘最终目标’作何解释？”
巴尔有气无力地坐下来，对迪伐斯说：“等一等，我没有搞懂你的意思。”他抚摸着瘦削的脸颊，又问道：“你不是要玩真的吧？”
“我就是要玩真的。”迪伐斯被激怒了：“听好，过去的十个皇帝之中，有九个是被野心勃勃的将军杀头或是枪毙的，这是你自己跟我讲了许多遍的事情。老皇帝一定立刻就会相信我们的话，令里欧思根本措手不及。”
巴尔细声低语：“天啊，这家伙的确是要玩真的。银河在上，老兄，你用这种牵强附会、不切实际、三流小说中的计划，绝对解决不了谢顿危机的。如果你从来就没有得到信囊呢？如果布洛缀克没有使用『最终目标”这几个字呢？谢顿不可能依赖这种天外飞来的好运。”
“如果天外真的飞来好运，谢顿难道就不能加以利用吗？这并没有违反任何定律，不是吗？”
“当然，可是……可是……”巴尔突然顿了一下，然后以显然经过压抑而表现出的镇定说：“你想，首先，你要怎样到达川陀？你不知道那颗行星的位置，我也根本不记得它在银河中的座标。你的这艘太空船上，又没有星历表，甚趾蟋我们现在身在何处，你都还搞不清楚呢。”
“我们不会在太空中迷路的，”迪伐斯咧嘴一笑，已经坐到了控制台前：“我们立刻登陆最近的一颗行星，然后等我们再升空的时候，就可以带着最好的宇航星图，能够把我们所在的位置弄得明明白白。布洛缀克送给我的十万点钞票，会很有用处的。”
“此外，我们的肚子还会被射穿一个大洞。帝国这一带的星空，每个行星一定都在画影图形捉拿我们。”
“老学究，”迪伐斯耐着性子说：“你不要这么天真好不好？里欧思说我的太空船投降得太容易了，哈，他并不是在说笑。这艘船有足够的火力，防护罩也有充足的能量，在这个边区星空不管遇到任何敌人，我们绝对都有能力应付。此外，我们还有个人防护罩，帝国的阿兵哥一直都没找到，你知道吗？因为我藏得很好。”
“好吧，”巴尔说：“就算你能到达川陀，你又准备怎么样去见大帝？你以为他会随时恭候大驾吗？”
“这一点，等我们到了川陀再想办法不迟。”迪伐斯回答。
巴尔无奈地喃喃应道：“好吧，好吧！我也一直希望在死前能去川陀看一看，已经想了有半个世纪了，就照你的意思做吧。”
超核能发动机立刻启动，舱内的灯光变得闪烁不定。两人体内也感到了轻微的抽搐。他们再度进入了超空间。
9. ON TRANTOR


The stars were as thick as weeds in an unkempt field, and for the first time, Lathan Devers found the figures to the right of the decimal point of prime importance in calculating the cuts through the hyper-regions. There was a claustrophobic sensation about the necessity for leaps of not more than a light-year. There was a frightening harshness about a sky which glittered unbrokenly in every direction. It was being lost in a sea of radiation.

And in the center of an open cluster of ten thousand stars, whose light tore to shreds the feebly encircling darkness, there circled the huge Imperial planet, Trantor.

But it was more than a planet; it was the living pulse beat of an Empire of twenty million stellar systems. It had only one, function, administration; one purpose, government; and one manufactured product, law.

The entire world was one functional distortion. There was no living object on its surface hut man, his pets, and his parasites. No blade of grass or fragment of uncovered soil could be found outside the hundred square miles of the Imperial Palace. No fresh water outside the Palace grounds existed but in the vast underground cisterns that held the water supply of a world.

The lustrous, indestructible, incorruptible metal that was the unbroken surface of the planet was the foundation of the huge, metal structures that mazed the planet. They were structures connected by causeways; laced by corridors; cubbyholed by offices; basemented by the huge retail centers that covered square miles; penthoused by the glittering amusement world that sparkled into life each night.

One could walk around the world of Trantor and never leave that one conglomerate building, nor see the city.

A fleet of ships greater in number than all the war fleets the Empire had ever supported landed their cargoes on Trantor each day to feed the forty billions of humans who gave nothing in exchange but the fulfillment of the necessity of untangling the myriads of threads that spiraled into the central administration of the most complex government Humanity had ever known.

Twenty agricultural worlds were the granary of Trantor. A universe was its servant.

Tightly held by the huge metal arms on either side, the trade ship was gently lowered down the huge ramp that led to the hangar. Already Devers had fumed his way through the manifold complications of a world conceived in paper work and dedicated to the principle of the form-in-quadruplicate.

There had been the preliminary halt in space, where the first of what had grown into a hundred questionnaires had been filled out. There were the hundred cross-examinations, the routine administration of a simple Probe, the photographing of the ship, the Characteristic-Analysis of the two men, and the subsequent recording of the same, the search for contraband, the payment of the entry tax ?and finally the question of the identity cards and visitor's visa.

Ducem Barr was a Siwennian and subject of the Emperor, but Lathan Devers was an unknown without the requisite documents. The official in charge at the moment was devastated with sorrow, but Devers could not enter. In fact, he would have to be held for official investigation.

From somewhere a hundred credits in crisp, new bills backed by the estates of Lord Brodrig made their appearance, and changed bands quietly. The official hemmed importantly and the devastation of his sorrow was assuaged. A new form made its appearance from the appropriate pigeonhole. It was filled out rapidly and efficiently, with the Devers characteristic thereto formally and properly attached.

The two men, trader and patrician, entered Siwenna.

In the hangar, the trade ship was another vessel to be cached, photographed, recorded, contents noted, identity cards of passengers facsimiled, and for which a suitable fee was paid, recorded, and receipted.

And then Devers was on a huge terrace under the bright white sun, along which women chattered, children shrieked, and men sipped drinks languidly and listened to the huge televisors blaring out the news of the Empire.

Barr paid a requisite number of iridium coins and appropriated the uppermost member of a pile of newspapers. It was the Trantor Imperial News, official organ of the government. In the back of the news room, there was the soft clicking noise of additional editions being printed in long-distance sympathy with the busy machines at the Imperial News offices ten thousand miles away by corridor ?six thousand by air-machine ?just as ten million sets of copies were being likewise printed at that moment in ten million other news rooms all over the planet.

Barr glanced at the headlines and said softly, "What shall we do first?"

Devers tried to shake himself out of his depression. He was in a universe far removed from his own, on a world that weighted him down with its intricacy, among people whose doings were incomprehensible and whose language was nearly so. The gleaming metallic towers that surrounded him and continued onwards in never-ending multiplicity to beyond the horizon oppressed him; the whole busy, unheeding life of a world-metropolis cast him into the horrible gloom of isolation and pygmyish unimportance.

He said, "I better leave it to you, doc."

Barr was calm, low-voice. "I tried to tell you, but it's hard to believe without seeing for yourself, I know that. Do you know how many people want to see the Emperor every day? About one million. Do you know how many he sees? About ten. We'll have to work through the civil service, and that makes it harder. But we can't afford the aristocracy."

"We have almost one hundred thousand."

"A single Peer of the Realm would cost us that, and it would take at least three or four to form an adequate bridge to the Emperor. It may take fifty chief commissioners and senior supervisors to do the same, but they would cost us only a hundred apiece perhaps. I'll do the talking. In the first place, they wouldn't understand your accent, and in the second, you don't know the etiquette of Imperial bribery. It's an art, I assure you. Ah!"

The third page of the Imperial News had what he wanted and he passed the paper to Devers.

Devers read slowly. The vocabulary was strange, but he understood. He looked up, and his eyes were dark with concern. He slapped the news sheet angrily with the back of his hand. "You think this can be trusted?"

"Within limits," replied Barr, calmly. "It's highly improbable that the Foundation fleet was wiped out. They've probably reported that several times already, if they've gone by the usual war-reporting technique of a world capital far from the actual scene of fighting. What it means, though, is that Riose has won another battle, which would be none-too-unexpected. It says he's captured Loris. Is that the capital planet of the Kingdom of Loris?"

"Yes," brooded Devers, "or of what used to be the Kingdom of Loris. And it's not twenty parsecs from the Foundation. Doc, we've got to work fast."

Barr shrugged, "You can't go fast on Trantor. If you try, you'll end up at the point of an atom-blaster, most likely."

"How long will it take?"

"A month, if we're lucky. A month, and our hundred thousand credits ?if even that will suffice. And that is providing the Emperor does not take it into his head in the meantime to travel to the Summer Planets, where he sees no petitioners at all."

"But the Foundation?

"朩ill take care of itself, as heretofore. Come, there's the question of dinner. I'm hungry. And afterwards, the evening is ours and we may as well use it. We shall never see Trantor or any world like it again, you know."

The Home Commissioner of the Outer Provinces spread his pudgy hands helplessly and peered at the petitioners with owlish nearsightedness. "But the Emperor is indisposed, gentlemen. It is really useless to take the matter to my superior. His Imperial Majesty has seen no one in a week."

"He will see us," said Barr, with an affectation of confidence. "It is but a question of seeing a member of the staff of the Privy Secretary."

"Impossible," said the commissioner emphatically. "It would be the worth of my job to attempt that. Now if you could but be more explicit concerning the nature of your business. I'm willing to help you, understand, but naturally I want something less vague, something I can present to my superior as reason for taking the matter further."

"If my business were such that it could be told to any but the highest," suggested Barr, smoothly, "it would scarcely be important enough to rate audience with His Imperial Majesty. I propose that you take a chance. I might remind you that if His Imperial Majesty attaches the importance to our business which we guarantee that he will, you will stand certain to receive the honors you will deserve for helping us now."

"Yes, but? and the commissioner shrugged, wordlessly.

"It's a chance," agreed Barr. "Naturally, a risk should have its compensation. It is a rather great favor to ask you, but we have already been greatly obliged with your kindness in offering us this opportunity to explain our problem. But if you would allow us to express our gratitude just slightly by?

Devers scowled. He had heard this speech with its slight variations twenty times in the past month. It ended, as always, in a quick shift of the half-hidden bills. But the epilogue differed here. Usually the bills vanished immediately; here they remained in plain view, while slowly the commissioner counted them, inspecting them front and back as he did so.

There was a subtle change in his voice. "Backed by the Privy Secretary, hey? Good money!"

"To get back to the subject? urged Barr.

"No, but wait," interrupted the commissioner, "let us go back by easy stages. I really do wish to know what your business can be. This money, it is fresh and new, and you must have a good deal, for it strikes me that you have seen other officials before me. Come, now, what about it?"

Barr said, "I don't see what you are driving at."

"Why, see here, it might be proven that you are upon the planet illegally, since the Identification and Entry Cards of your silent friend are certainly inadequate. He is not a subject of the Emperor."

"I deny that."

"It doesn't matter that you do," said the commissioner, with sudden bluntness. "The official who signed his Cards for the sum of a hundred credits has confessed ?under pressure ?and we know more of you than you think."

"If you are hinting, sir, that the sum we have asked you to accept is inadequate in view of the risks?

The commissioner smiled. "On the contrary, it is more than adequate." He tossed the bills aside. "To return to what I was saying, it is the Emperor himself who has become interested in your case. Is it not true, sirs, that you have recently been guests of General Riose? Is it not true that you have escaped from the midst of his army with, to put it mildly, astonishing ease? Is it not true that you possess a small fortune in bills backed by Lord Brodrig's estates? In short, is it not true that you are a pair of spies and assassins sent here to ?Well, you shall tell us yourself who paid you and for what!"

"Do you know," said Barr, with silky anger, "I deny the right of a petty commissioner to accuse us of crimes. We will leave."

"You will not leave." The commissioner arose, and his eyes no longer seemed near-sighted. "You need answer no question now; that will be reserved for a later ?and more forceful ?time. Nor am I a commissioner; I am a Lieutenant of the Imperial Police. You are under arrest."

There was a glitteringly efficient blast-gun in his fist as he smiled. "There are greater men than you under arrest this day. It is a hornet's nest we are cleaning up."

Devers snarled and reached slowly for his own gun. The lieutenant of police smiled more broadly and squeezed the contacts. The blasting line of force struck Devers' chest in an accurate blaze of destruction ?that bounced harmlessly off his personal shield in sparkling spicules of light.

Devers shot in turn, and the lieutenant's head fell from off an upper torso that had disappeared. It was still smiling as it lay in the jag of sunshine which entered through the new-made hole in the wall.

It was through the back entrance that they left.

Devers said huskily, "Quickly to the ship. They'll have the alarm out in no time." He cursed in a ferocious whisper. "It's another plan that's backfired. I could swear the space fiend himself is against me."

It was in the open that they became aware of the jabbering crowds that surrounded the huge televisors. They had no time to wait; the disconnected roaring words that reached them, they disregarded. But Barr snatched a copy of the Imperial News before diving into the huge barn of the hangar, where the ship lifted hastily through a giant cavity burnt fiercely into the roof.

"Can you get away from them?" asked Barr.

Ten ships of the traffic-police wildly followed the runaway craft that had burst out of the lawful, radio-beamed Path of Leaving, and then broken every speed law in creation. Further behind still, sleek vessels of the Secret Service were lifting in pursuit of a carefully described ship manned by two thoroughly identified murderers.

"Watch me," said Devers, and savagely shifted into hyperspace two thousand miles above the surface of Trantor. The shift, so near a planetary mass, meant unconsciousness for Barr and a fearful haze of pain for Devers, but light-years further, space above them was clear.

Devers' somber pride in his ship burst to the surface. He said, "There's not an Imperial ship that could follow me anywhere."

And then, bitterly, "But there is nowhere left to run to for us, and we can't fight their weight. What's there to do? What can anyone do?"

Barr moved feebly on his cot. The effect of the hypershift had not yet worn off, and each of his muscles ached. He said, "No one has to do anything. It's all over. Here!"

He passed the copy of the Imperial News that he still clutched, and the headlines were enough for the trader.

"Recalled and arrested ?Riose and Brodrig," Devers muttered. He stared blankly at Barr. "Why?"

"The story doesn't say, but what does it matter? The war with the Foundation is over, and at this moment, Siwenna is revolting. Read the story and see." His voice was drifting off. "We'll stop in some of the provinces and find out the later details. If you don't mind, I'll go to sleep now."

And he did.

In grasshopper jumps of increasing magnitude, the trade ship was spanning the Galaxy in its return to the Foundation.
10. THE WAR ENDS
Lathan Devers felt definitely uncomfortable, and vaguely resentful. He had received his own decoration and withstood with mute stoicism the turgid oratory of the mayor which accompanied the slip of crimson ribbon. That had ended his share of the ceremonies, but, naturally, formality forced him to remain. And it was formality, chiefly ?the type that couldn't allow him to yawn noisily or to swing a foot comfortably onto a chair seat ?that made him long to be in space, where he belonged.

The Siwennese delegation, with Ducem Barr a lionized member, signed the Convention, and Siwenna became the first province to pass directly from the Empire's political rule to the Foundation's economic one.

Five Imperial Ships of the Line ?captured when Siwenna rebelled behind the lines of the Empire's Border Fleet ?flashed overhead, huge and massive, detonating a roaring salute as they passed over the city.

Nothing but drinking, etiquette, and small talk now.

A voice called him. It was Forell; the man who, Devers realized coldly, could buy twenty of him with a morning's profits ?but a Forell who now crooked a finger at him with genial condescension.

He stepped out upon the balcony into the cool night wind, and bowed properly, while scowling into his bristling beard. Barr was there, too; smiling. He said, "Devers, you'll have to come to my rescue. I'm being accused of modesty, a horrible and thoroughly unnatural crime."

"Devers," Forell removed the fat cigar from the side of his mouth when he spoke, "Lord Barr claims that your trip to Cleon's capital had nothing to do with the recall of Riose."

"Nothing at all, sir." Devers was curt. "We never saw the Emperor. The reports we picked up on our way back concerning the trial, showed it up to be the purest frameup. There was a mess of rigmarole about the general being tied up with subversive interests at the court."

"And he was innocent?"

"Riose?" interposed Barr. "Yes! By the Galaxy, yes. Brodrig was a traitor on general principles but was never guilty of the specific accusations brought against him. It was a judicial farce; but a necessary one, a predictable one, an inevitable one."

"By psychohistorical necessity, I presume." Forell rolled the phrase sonorously with the humorous ease of long familiarity.

"Exactly." Barr grew serious. "It never penetrated earlier, but once it was over and I could ... well ... look at the answers in the back of the book, the problem became simple. We can see, now, that the social background of the Empire makes wars of conquest impossible for it. Under weak Emperors, it is tom apart by generals competing for a worthless and surely death-bringing throne. Under strong Emperors, the Empire is frozen into a paralytic rigor in which disintegration apparently ceases for the moment, but only at the sacrifice of all possible growth."

Forell growled bluntly through strong puffs, "You're not clear, Lord Barr."

Barr smiled slowly. "I suppose so. It's the difficulty of not being trained in psychohistory. Words are a pretty fuzzy substitute for mathematical equations. But let's see now?

Barr considered, while Forell relaxed, back to railing, and Devers looked into the velvet sky and thought wonderingly of Trantor.

Then Barr said, "You see, sir, you ?and Devers ?and everyone no doubt, had the idea that beating the Empire meant first prying apart the Emperor and his general. You, and Devers, and everyone else were right ?right all the time, as far as the principle of internal disunion was concerned.

"You were wrong, however, in thinking that this internal split was something to be brought about by individual acts, by inspirations of the moment. You tried bribery and lies. You appealed to ambition and to fear. But you got nothing for all your pains. In fact, appearances were worse after each attempt.

"And through all this wild threshing up of tiny ripples, the Seldon tidal wave continued onward, quietly ?but quite irresistibly."

Ducem Barr turned away, and looked over the railing at the lights of a rejoicing city. He said, "There was a dead hand pushing all of us; the mighty general and the great Emperor; my world and your world ?the dead hand of Hari Seldon. He knew that a man like Riose would have to fail, since it was his success that brought failure; and the greater the success, the surer the failure."

Forell said dryly, "I can't say you're getting clearer."

"A moment," continued Barr earnestly. "Look at the situation. A weak general could never have endangered us, obviously. A strong general during the time of a weak Emperor would never have endangered us, either; for he would have turned his arms towards a much more fruitful target. Events have shown that three-fourths of the Emperors of the last two centuries were rebel generals and rebel viceroys before they were Emperors.

"So it is only the combination of strong Emperor and strong general that can harm the Foundation; for a strong Emperor can not be dethroned easily, and a strong general is forced to turn outwards, past the frontiers.

"But, what keeps the Emperor strong? What kept Cleon strong? It's obvious. He is strong, because he permits no strong subjects. A courtier who becomes too rich, or a general who becomes too popular is dangerous. All the recent history of the Empire proves that to any Emperor intelligent enough to be strong.

"Riose won victories, so the Emperor grew suspicious. All the atmosphere of the times forced him to be suspicious. Did Riose refuse a bribe? Very suspicious; ulterior motives. Did his most trusted courtier suddenly favor Riose? Very suspicious; ulterior motives. It wasn't the individual acts that were suspicious. Anything else would have done which is why our individual plots were unnecessary and rather futile. It was the success of Riose that was suspicious. So he was recalled, and accused, condemned, murdered. The Foundation wins again.

"Look, there is not a conceivable combination of events that does not result in the Foundation winning. It was inevitable; whatever Riose did, whatever we did."

The Foundation magnate nodded ponderously. "So! But what if the Emperor and the general had been the same person. Hey? What then? That's a case you didn't cover, so you haven't proved your point yet."

Barr shrugged. "I can't prove anything; I haven't the mathematics. But I appeal to your reason. With an Empire in which every aristocrat, every strong man, every pirate can aspire to the Throne ?and, as history shows, often successfully ?what would happen to even a strong Emperor who preoccupied himself with foreign wars at the extreme end of the Galaxy? How long would he have to remain away from the capital before somebody raised the standards of civil war and forced him home. The social environment of the Empire would make that time short.

"I once told Riose that not all the Empire's strength could swerve the dead hand of Hari Seldon."

"Good! Good!" Forell was expansively pleased. "Then you imply the Empire can never threaten us again."

"It seems to me so," agreed Barr. "Frankly, Cleon may not live out the year, and there's going to be a disputed succession almost as a matter of course, which might mean the last civil war for the Empire."

"Then," said Forell, "there are no more enemies."

Barr was thoughtful. "There's a Second Foundation."

"At the other end of the Galaxy? Not for centuries."

Devers turned suddenly at this, and his face was dark as he faced Forell. "There are internal enemies, perhaps."

"Are there?" asked Forell, coolly. "Who, for instance?"

"People, for instance, who might like to spread the wealth a bit, and keep it from concentrating too much out of the hands that work for it. See what I mean?"

Slowly, Forell's gaze lost its contempt and grew one with the anger of Devers' own.
第九章 川陀
　　群星如同荒野问的杂草一般浓密，拉珊•迪伐斯直到现在才发现，在计算超空间的航线时，小数点以下的数字有多么重要。由于需要做许多次不到一光年距离的跃迁，他们感到强烈的压迫感。如今，四面八方全都是闪耀的光点，又带来了一种诡异的恐惧感，太空船彷佛已经迷失在一片光海之中。
前方出现了一个由万颗恒星组成的星团，射出的光芒扯裂了周围黑暗的太空。帝国的巨大首都世界——川陀，就藏在那个星团的中央。
川陀不只是一个行星，而且是银河帝国二十万星系的心脏。它唯一的功能就是行政管理，唯一的目的就是统治帝国，唯一的产物就是法律条文。
川陀世界的机能呈畸形发展，在其表面上仅存的生物是人类、人类的宠物与人类的寄生虫。除了皇宫周围方圆十哩之外，找不到任何的草地或一块露在外面的土壤。而在皇宫范围之外的地方，也看不到任何天然水源，因为这个世界所需的一切用水，全都储藏在巨大的地下蓄水池中。
整个行星都覆盖着不会损坏、不会腐蚀、闪闪发光的金属外壳，作为无数巨大金属建筑的基础。这些密布各处的金属建筑物，相互之间由许多通道与回廊联系，里面分割成许多大小不一的机关部门——底层是大型的商业中心，顶楼是五光十色的游乐场所，每到晚上就会变得热闹非凡。
走过一个接一个的金属建筑，就可以环游川陀世界各个角落，根本不用离开这些建筑群。但是这样做，却也就没有机会俯瞰这座城市。
为了供应川陀四百亿人口所需的粮食，每天都有庞大的太空船队起降，数量超过帝国有史以来任何的星际舰队。川陀居民消耗了这么多的粮食，他们所能做出的唯一回报，就是帮助这个自有人类以来最庞杂的政府的行政中心，处理来自银河各处的各种疑难杂症。
川陀有二十个农业世界作为它的谷仓，而整个银河都应算是它的仆人……
太空商船两侧被巨大的金属臂紧紧夹住，缓缓地经由斜坡滑向船库。在此之前，迪伐斯已经耐着性子办好了许许多多繁复的手续。既然这个世界唯一的功能便是生产一式四份的公文，各种手续的繁杂程度也就可想而知了。
当他们还在太空中的时候，就被拦下进行初步的检查，填好了一张问卷表格。但是他们绝对想不到，那份表格只占了总共需要填写的百分之一。他们在当时就接受了许多盘问，还有例行的初级心灵探测。海关官员再为他们的太空船拍照存档，并且为两人做个人特征分析，再详细记录下来。接下来是搜查违禁品与私货，缴交入关税……最后的一关，是检查两人的身份证件与游客签证。
杜森•巴尔是西维纳人，当然算是帝国的百姓，然而迪伐斯却没有任何必须的证件，成了一个来历不明的人物。负责询问他们的海关官员，立时露出了万分遗隐的表情，说他不能准许迪伐斯入境，而且还必须把他扣押起来，接受进一步的正式调查。
突然闾，一张由布洛缀克大人领地担保的一百点崭新钞票，出现在海关官员的眼前，并且悄悄地易手。官员装模作样地轻咳了一声，脸上遗憾的表情随即消失。他从某个文件格中掏出一张表格，熟练而迅速地填写完毕，并且将迪伐斯的个人特征资料，郑重其事地附在那张表格之上。
在表格上面，两人的居住地填写的都是“西维纳”。
而在太空船库中，他们的太空船被安置在一角，照相存档、记录相关资料、清点内部物品、复印乘客的身分证明，然后缴交手续费，做好缴清费用的纪录，这才终于领到了收据。
不久之后，迪伐斯来到了一个巨大的天台，耀眼的白色太阳高挂在头顶。附近有许多妇女在谈天，许多儿童在嬉戏，男士们则懒洋洋地一面喝着酒，一面听着巨型新闻幕中高声播报的帝国新闻。
巴尔则走进一间新闻传播室，付了足够的表币，从一堆报纸中取走了最上面的一份。他买的是川陀的“帝国新闻报”，那是帝国政府的机关报。从新闻传播室的后面，传出了印刷机轻微的噪音，正在赶印包多的报纸。“帝国新闻报总社”离此地很远——地面距离一万哩；空中距离六千哩，然而由于印刷机与总社直接连线，所以能够即时将最新的消息印制出来。在这个行星上各个角落，类似的新闻传播室共有上千万个，每一个都以这种方法提供最新的新闻报导。
巴尔看了看报纸的标题，然后对迪伐斯轻声说：“我们应该先做什么？”
迪伐斯正在尽力使自己摆脱沮丧的情绪——他如今处于一个距离故乡极遥远的世界，这个世界使他眼花撩乱，居民的各种行为令他无法理解，他也几乎听不懂他们的语言，这些都使得迪伐斯感到很大的压迫感。在他的身旁，耸立着无数闪耀金属光泽的高大建筑，一直延伸到地平线的尽头，也使得他有喘不过气的感觉。在这个由整个行星所构成的大都会中，人人似乎都过着忙碌而疏离的生活，这又令他感到了可怕的孤寂，体认到自己的微弱与渺小。
他回答巴尔说：“老学究，现在最好一切都由你作主。”
巴尔显得很镇定，低声说道：“我曾经试图把这里的情形告诉你，可是我也知道，百闻不如一见，你没有亲眼见到，很多事情是不会相信的。你知道每天有多少人想觐见大帝吗？差不多一百万；你知道他接见多少？每天顶多十个。我们得先向政府机关提出申请，这样做会非常麻烦，可是我们又请不起贵族帮忙关说。”
“我们的十万点钞票，根本还没有用掉多少。”
“一个帝国高级贵族就能吃掉那么多钱，可是想要见到大帝，至少要有三、四个高级贵族牵线。而如果循公家机关的途径，大约总共需要找五十个局长、主任这一类的行政长官，但是他们也许每个人只收一百点。让我来负责跟他们交涉，因为你的口音太重，他们听不懂你的话。此外，你也根本不懂帝国的红包文化，这可是一门艺术，我向你保证……啊！”
巴尔在“帝国新闻报”的第三页，发现了他想要找的消息，赶紧将报纸递给迪伐斯。
迪伐斯读得很慢，因为他对报上的遣词用字很不习惯，不过至少还能读得懂。看了半晌之后，他抬起头来，眼神中充满了不安与忧郁，用手背使劲一拍报纸，气呼呼地说：“你认为这种消息可靠吗？”
“在某个限度之内——”巴尔冷静地回答：“上面说基地的舰队已经被完全消灭，这是很不可能的事情。这个首都世界距离前线那么遥远，如果是透过一般的战地新闻管道，他们可能已经把这个新闻炒了好几遍。我想，它真正的意思，是指里欧思又赢了一场战役，这种事情一点也不值得大惊小敝。上面说他拿下了洛瑞斯，指的是不是洛瑞斯王国的首都行星？”
“是的，”迪伐斯想了想又说：“或者应该说，是当年那个洛瑞斯王国。它距离基地还不到二十秒差距，老学究，我们的动作得快一点。”
巴尔耸耸肩：“在川陀可急不得，如果你急的话，可能就会死在核铳之下。”
“那么需要多久的时间呢？”
“如果我们运气好的话，也至少要花一个月的时间，再赔上那十万点现钞——那些钱即使够用，也得那么久才行。万一在这段时间中，大帝突然心血来潮，移驾到了避暑行星去，在那里他不会接见任何请愿者，那就得再等更久了。”
“但是基地……”
“基地会安然无事的，就像直到如今一样。来，我们该解决晚餐问题了，我好饿。吃完饭之后，傍晚这段时间可以好好利用一下。以后，我们再也见不到川陀或是类似的世界了，你知道吗？”
外围星省内政局长摊开两只肥胖的手掌，一副爱莫能助的表情，用猫头鹰似的近视眼瞪着两位申请者，对他们说：“可是大帝御体欠安，两位先生，不用再去麻烦我的上司了。这一周以来，大帝陛下根本没有接见任何人。”
“他会愿意接见我们的。”巴尔装着一副胸有成竹的样子：“只要告诉大帝，说我们是枢密大臣的手下就行了。”
“不可能，”局长高声强调：“我这么做缓蟋饭碗都砸掉。这样吧，如果你们能够把来意说得更明白一点，我就愿意尽量帮你们的忙，懂吗？但是我一定要知道得很详细，才能向我的上司提出来，请他考虑接受这个案子。”
“如果我们的来意可以随便向任何人透露，而不是只能讲给大帝听，”巴尔振振有辞地说：“那么又有什么重要性呢？又何必非得要求觐见大帝陛下呢？我建议你不妨稍微冒点险，把握住这个难得的机会。也许我应该提醒你，如果大帝陛下认定了我们的事情很重要——其实我保证一定会的——那么你也会因为帮助我们有功，而必定能受到奖赏。”
“话是没错，可是……”局长耸了耸肩，没有再说下去。
“这是你的大好机会。”巴尔继续鼓动他：“当然，冒险总要得到一点回报，我们知道这件事情非常麻烦你。你肯给我们这个机会来向你解释我们的问题，我们万分感激你的好意。如果能让我们有一点实际的表示……”
听到这里，迪伐斯忍不住皱起了眉头。在过去一个月当中，同样的话他几乎听了不下二十遍。每一次这种对话之后，都照例在遮遮掩掩之中，会有几张钞票迅速地易手。但是这次的结局稍有不同，通常钞票都缓螈刻从视线中消失，这回却仍然留在台面上。局长好整以暇地一张一张数着，还把每张钞票部翻来覆去地检查了一遍。
然后局长的口气起了微妙的变化：“由枢密大臣担保，啊？真是好钞票！”
“让我们回到正题……”巴尔催促道。
“不，等一等，”局长打断了巴尔的话：“我们一步一步来，我实在很想知道你们真正的来意。这些钱都是新钞，你们的口袋里一定装了不少，因为我突然想到，在你们来见我之前，一定已经见过了许多官员。好了，你们就照实说了吧。”
巴尔回答道：“我不明白你的意思。”
“唉，好吧，听好了，这也许就可以证明你们是非法入境的。因为你这位不说一句话的朋友，他的身分证明以及入境表格显然并不完整，他根本就不是帝国的子民。”
“我否认你这种说法。”
“你否认也不要紧，”局长的态度突然变得粗暴：“那个拿了你们一百点，在他的文件上签字的海关官员，已经全部都招了——不过当然不是自动招的。所以我们对你们两个人的了解，比你们想像之中要多得多。”
“大人，你这么说，是在暗示我们请你收下的钱，还不够让你冒这个险……”
局长微笑着说：“正好相反，简直太够了。”
他将那些钞票丢在一边，又说：“回到我刚才所说的事情，其实是大帝自己注意到了你们的案子。两位先生，你们是不是最近曾做过里欧思将军的座上客？你们是不是刚从他的军队里逃出来——说得保守点，实在太容易了吧？你们是不是拥有一小笔财富，全是由布洛缀克大人领地所担保的钞票？简单地说，你们是不是两名间谍与刺客，被派到这里来——好了，你们自己招认是谁雇用你们，还有你们的任务是什么！”
“你知道吗？”巴尔带着怒意，口齿伶俐地说：“你只是一个小小的局长，没有权力指控我们犯了任何罪，我们告辞了。”
“你们不准走。”局长站了起来，眼睛似乎不再近视。他吼道：“你们现在不必回答任何问题，以后有的是机会——更好的机会。我也根本不是什么局长，而是帝国秘密警察的一名副队长，你们已经被捕了。”
在他的手中，突然出现了一把后晶晶的高性能核铳。他面带微笑说道：“比你们更重要的人物也已经被捕了，今天就要将你们一网打尽。”
迪伐斯大吼一声，想要拔出身上的核铳，可是动作却慢了一步，那名秘密警察一面大笑着，一面已经使劲按下了扳机。铳口立刻吐出强力射线，正中迪伐斯的胸膛，迸发出一阵毁灭性的烈焰。可是迪伐斯却完全没有受伤，个人防护罩将所有能量全部反弹回去，在半空中溅起一片闪烁的光雨。
迪伐斯立刻还击，秘密警察的上身在一霎间就不见了，头颅随即滚落到地上。后头墙壁被打穿了一个洞，一束阳光射进屋内，正好照在那个还在微笑的头颅上。
迪伐斯与巴尔赶紧从后门溜走。
迪伐斯一面跑，一面用粗哑的声音吼道：“赶快回到我的太空船去，他们随时可能会发布警报。”
然后他又压低了声音，恶狠狠地咒骂：“又一个计划弄巧成拙了，我敢打赌，一定是宇宙邪灵在跟我过不去。”
冲到外面后，他们发现许多群众都围在巨型电视幕前，三三两两地交头接耳，可是他们没有时间停下来弄明白；他们听到了断断续续的吼叫声，却根本顾不得发生了什么事。巴尔只来得及顺手抓起一份“帝国新闻报”，就奋力冲进巨大的太空船库。进入太空船后，迪伐斯开炮将顶棚打穿一个大洞，便驾着太空船仓皇从洞口直接升空。太空船循着无线电波导航的离境航线飞驰而去，速度超过了宇宙间一切速限。
“逃得掉吗？”巴尔着急地问。
此时，已经有十艘交通警察的太空警船紧追在后，后面更有秘密警察的星舰组成的中队。他们的目标是一艘外型明确的太空船，由两个已被确认的杀人凶手所驾驶。
“看我的！”迪伐斯刚说完，就在川陀上空两千哩处，硬生生地切入超空间。由于此处行星的重力场太强，使得巴尔陷入了昏迷状态，迪伐斯也因为剧痛而感到一阵晕眩。好在飞过了几光年之后，就已经没有其他太空船的踪迹。
对于太空商船的精彩表现，迪伐斯的骄傲无法掩饰。他对巴尔说：“不论在哪里，都没有任何一艘帝国的船舰能够追得上我。”
然后，他又改以苦涩的口气说：“可是我们现在已经走投无路了，又无法和他们那么强的势力为敌，我们该怎么办？大家要怎么办？”
巴尔在便床上无力地挪动着，刚才切入超空间所带来的生理反应还没有消退，令他感到全身各处的肌肉疼痛不堪。他回答迪伐斯说：“谁也不必做什么，一切都结束了，你看！”
他把紧捏在手中的“帝国新闻报”移到迪伐斯眼前，迪伐斯只看到标题就明白了。
“里欧思和布洛缀克——受谕召回并收押。”迪伐斯喃喃念着，然后又茫然地瞪着巴尔，问道：“为什么？”
“报导中并没提到，但是这有什么关系呢？帝国征伐基地的战争已经结束了，而在此同时，西维纳也爆发了革命，你仔细读一读这段新闻。”巴尔的声音越来越小：“我们可以找些地方停下来，再打探一些后续的发展。现在，如果你不介意的话，我想要睡觉了。”
说完，他就真的呼呼大睡起来。
太空商船开始进行连续的跃迁，一次比一次的幅度更大，横越过半个银河，一路向基地的方向进发。
第十章 终战
　　拉珊•迪伐斯感到浑身都不自在，甚至还有一点不高兴。刚才市长颁赠一枚勋章给他，并且为他佩戴上红色丝带时，他以世故的沉默忍受着市长浮夸的言辞。完成这些仪式之后，其实他在这个典礼中的演出就结束了，然而为了顾及礼仪，他当然不能马上离开。这些繁琐的虚礼令他感到坐立不安，尤其不敢大声打呵欠，也不能把脚抬到椅子上晃荡。所以他巴不得赶快回到太空去，只有那里才是属于他的天地。
接着，由杜森•巴尔所率领的西维纳代表团，代表西维纳新政府在“公约”上签字，西维纳从此正式加入基地体系。从帝国的政治势力脱离，直接转移到基地的经济联盟，西维纳是有史以来首开先例的第一个星省。
此时，五艘帝国舰队的星舰掠过天空——它们是在西维纳的起义中，被俘虏的皇家边境舰队星舰。这五艘硕大的星际战舰排列整齐划过天空，并且在通过市中心时一齐发出巨响，向地面的贵宾致敬。
典礼终于结束了，大家纷纷开始饮酒狂欢，高声交谈……
迪伐斯忽然听到有人叫他，那是森内特•弗瑞尔的声音。迪伐斯的心中很清楚，像他自己这种角色，弗瑞尔一个早上的利润就可以买到二十个。可是弗瑞尔现在竟然表现得万分亲切，对着他弯了弯手指头，表示要请他过去。
于是迪伐斯走到了阳台，沐浴在夜晚的凉风中。他向弗瑞尔恭敬地鞠躬行礼，将愁眉苦脸的表情藏在大胡子下。然后迪伐斯发现巴尔也在那里。巴尔看到他，微笑着说：“迪伐斯，你得帮我说一句公道话。他们硬要说我过分谦虚，这种指控实在太可怕又太诡异了。”
“迪伐斯，”弗瑞尔把咬在嘴里的粗雪茄拿开，然后说：“巴尔爵爷竟然说，里欧思会被帝国的皇帝召回，跟你们去川陀这件事情根本没有关系。”
“阁下，完全没有关系，”迪伐斯不太客气地说：“我们根本没有见到那个皇帝。我们逃回来的时候，曾经沿途打探那场审判的消息，根据那些报导，这显然是一项阴谋。我们还听到了很多传闻，说那个将军与宫廷中有意谋反的党派勾结。”
“但是，他是无辜的吗？”
“里欧思？”巴尔插嘴道：“是的，老天有眼，他是无辜的。布洛缀克虽然在各方面都可以算是叛徒，不过这次对他的指控，却真的是冤枉他了。这可以算是一个司法闹剧，然而却是必要的，可以预测得到的，而且是不可避免的。”
“我想，这是由于心理史学的必然性。”弗瑞尔故意将这句话说得很大声，表示他非常熟悉这些术语。
“一点都没错。”巴尔的态度变得严肃起来：“这个道理在事先难以看透，可是在事情结束之后，我就可以……嗯……就像在书本的末页看到谜底揭晓一样，问题就变得很简单了。现在，我们可以明白，由于帝国当前的社会背景，使它无法赢得任何征战。当皇帝软弱无能的时候，将军们当然都会蠢蠢欲动，为了那个既无聊而又必会致祸的帝位，将整个帝国搞得四分五裂。然而，在强势皂帝的领导之下，又会使帝国变得麻痹僵化，虽然暂时阻止了表面上崩溃的趋势，却牺牲了一切可能的成长、发展与活力。”
哎瑞尔突然无礼地大声咆哮：“巴尔爵爷，你说得不清不楚。”
巴尔仍然保持微笑，缓缓回答说：“我也这么认为，因为我没有受过心理史学的训练，所以才会有这种困难。语言与精确的数学方程式比较起来，实在只是相当含糊的替代品。不过，让我们想想——”
巴尔陷入了沉思，弗瑞尔趁这个机会靠在栏杆上休息，迪伐斯则抬头看着天鹅绒般的天空，遥想着川陀现在究竟发生了什么事。
然后巴尔又开始说：“阁下，你也知道，你和迪伐斯，当然还有基地上的每一个人，都认为想要击败帝国，首先必须离间皇帝与他的将军。你跟迪伐斯，还有其他的人其实都没有错——在考虑内部不和的原则上，这种想法都可以算是正确的。
“然而，你们所犯的错误，在于认为这种内在的分裂，必须源于某种个别的行动，或是某个人一时的心态。所以你们试图利用贿赂与假情报，借助于野心与恐惧心理。但是你们费尽心机、吃尽苦头，到头来还是白忙了一场。事实上，表面上看起来，每一次的尝试反而使得情势更糟。
“你们所做的这些尝试，就像是以人力在水面拍击出来的涟漪，对于巨浪没有一点影响。谢顿的巨浪依然继续向前推进，虽然悄无声息，却是无坚不摧。”
巴尔转过头去，透过阳台的栏杆，看到了举市欢腾的灯火。然后他又说：“有一只幽灵之手在推动我们每个人——英武的将军、伟大的皇帝、我们的世界与你们的世界——这只幽灵之手属于哈里•谢顿所有。他早知道像里欧思这种人会失败，因为对他而言，成功就是失败的种子，而且越大的成功，便会导致更大的失败。”
此时弗瑞尔冷淡地说：“我还是认为你的话一点也不清楚。”
“请耐心听下去——”巴尔一本正经地说：“让我们考虑一下各种可能的情况。任何一个无能的将军，都绝对无法对我们构成威胁，这一点至为明显。而当皇帝软弱昏庸时，将军再能干也一样不会危及我们，因为有更为有利的目标，吸引他向内发展。历史告诉我们，在过去的两个世纪中，有四分之三的皇帝，都是出自叛变的将军或总督。
“所以，最后只剩下一种组合，就是强势的皇帝与骁勇的将军，只有这种组合才可能威胁到基地的安全。因为想要将一个强势皇帝拉下来并不容易，所以骁勇的将军就只好越过帝国的疆界向外发展。
“然而问题又来了，强势皇帝又如何维持威权呢？是什么在维持着克里昂二世的强势领导？这其实很明显，他不允许文臣武将的能力太强，这样他就能够唯我独尊。如果一个大臣太过富有，或是将军太得人心，对他而言都是很危险的事。只要稍微研究一下近代的皇帝谱系，我们就可以发现，凡是稍有智商、明白这一点的皇帝，都能变成一个强势皇帝。
“里欧思打了许多场胜仗，因此皇帝就起疑了，当时所有的情况都令他不得不起疑。里欧思拒绝了贿赂吗？非常可疑，可能另有阴谋；他最宠信的大臣突然支持里欧思？非常可疑，可能另有阴谋。事实上，并不是哪一个个别行动显得可疑，而是任何行动都会使他起疑——所以我们的计划全都是没有必要，也注定是徒劳无功的。因为真正使得里欧思显得可疑的，就是他的成功。因此，他终于被召回，被指控谋反，被定罪并遭到杀害——基地又赢得了最后的胜利。
“所以说，大家可以看到，不论是哪一种可能的组合，都能保证基地是最后的赢家。这是必然的结局，不论里欧思做过些什么，也不论我们做过些什么，结果都是一样的。”
哎瑞尔这位基地大亨听到这里，若有所悟地点着头说：“很有道理！不过，如果皇帝身兼将军又如何呢？嘿，这时又会发生什么状况？这种情况你并没讨论到，所以你还不能算是证明了你的论点。”
巴尔耸耸肩：“我根本无法证明任何事，因为我并没有必要的数学工具，我只不过能做一点简单的推理。如今所有的贵族、所有的强人，甚至所有的汪洋大盗都在觊觎帝位，而且历史告诉我们，成功的例子还不算少。即使是一个强势皇帝，如果他太过于关心银河尽头的战事，又会带来什么后果呢？他离开首都多久之后，就可能会有人另竖旗帜兴起内战，逼得他非得收兵回防？就帝国目前的社会环境而言，一定很快就会发生这种情形。
“我曾经告诉过里欧思，即使是帝国所有的力量加起来，也不足以摇撼谢顿的幽灵之手。”
“很好，很好！”弗瑞尔显得极为高兴：“所以你的意思是说，帝国永远不可能再对我们构成威胁。”
“在我看来的确如此。”巴尔表示同意：“坦白说，克里昂二世很可能活不过今年，然后，必然又会因继位人选产生纷争，这样便有可能引起帝国的‘最后’一场内战。”
哎瑞尔接口道：“那么，我们就再也不会有任何敌人了。”
巴尔深思熟虑地说：“别忘了还有第二基地。”
“在银河另一端的那个？几个世纪之内还碰不到呢。”
迪伐斯突然转过头来面对着弗瑞尔，脸色显得很凝重：“也许，我们的内部还有敌人。”
“有吗？”弗瑞尔以冷淡的口气问道：“什么人？请举个例子。”
“例如，有些人希望将财富分配得公平一点，希望辛勤工作的所得，不要集中到几个人的手中。你懂得我的意思吗？”
哎瑞尔眼中的轻蔑之意渐渐消失，现出了如迪伐斯一样的愤怒眼神。
PART II THE MULE
11. BRIDE AND GROOM

THE MULE Less is known of "The Mule" than of any character of comparable significance to Galactic history. Even the period of his greatest renown is known to us chiefly through the eyes of his antagonists and, principally, through those of a young bride....

ENCYCLOPEDIA GALACTICA

Bayta's first sight of Haven was entirely the contrary of spectacular. Her husband pointed it out ?a dull star lost in the emptiness of the Galaxy's edge. It was past the last sparse clusters, to where straggling points of light gleamed lonely. And even among these it was poor and inconspicuous.

Toran was quite aware that as the earliest prelude to married life, the Red Dwarf lacked impressiveness and his lips curled self-consciously. "I know, Bay ?It isn't exactly a proper change, is it? I mean from the Foundation to this."

"A horrible change, Toran. I should never have married you."

And when his face looked momentarily hurt, before he caught himself, she said with her special "cozy" tone, "All right, silly. Now let your lower lip droop and give me that special dying-duck look ?the one just before you're supposed to bury your head on my shoulder, while I stroke your hair full of static electricity. You were fishing for some drivel, weren't you? You were expecting me to say 'I'd be happy anywhere with you, Toran!' or 'The interstellar depths themselves would be home, my sweet, were you but with me!' Now you admit it."

She pointed a finger at him and snatched it away an instant before his teeth closed upon it.

He said, "If I surrender, and admit you're right, will you prepare dinner?"

She nodded contentedly. He smiled, and just looked at her.

She wasn't beautiful on the grand scale to others ?he admitted that ?even if everybody did look twice. Her hair was dark and glossy, though straight, her mouth a bit wide ?but her meticulous, close-textured eyebrows separated a white, unlined forehead from the warmest mahogany eyes ever filled with smiles.

And behind a very sturdily-built and staunchly-defended facade of practical, unromantic, hard-headedness towards life, there was just that little pool of softness that would never show if you poked for it, but could be reached if you knew just how ?and never let on that you were looking for it.

Toran adjusted the controls unnecessarily and decided to relax. He was one interstellar jump, and then several milli-microparsecs "on the straight" before manipulation by hand was necessary. He leaned over backwards to look into the storeroom, where Bayta was juggling appropriate containers.

There was quite a bit of smugness about his attitude towards Bayta ?the satisfied awe that marks the triumph of someone who has been hovering at the edge of an inferiority complex for three years.

After all he was a provincial ?and not merely a provincial, but the son of a renegade Trader. And she was of the Foundation itself ?and not merely that, but she could trace her ancestry back to Mallow.

And with all that, a tiny quiver underneath. To take her back to Haven, with its rock-world and cave-cities was bad enough. To have her face the traditional hostility of Trader for Foundation ?nomad for city dweller ?was worse.

Still ?After supper, the last jump!

Haven was an angry crimson blaze, and the second planet was a ruddy patch of light with atmosphere-blurred rim and a half-sphere of darkness. Bayta leaned over the large view table with its spidering of crisscross lines that centered Haven II neatly.

She said gravely, "I wish I had met your father first. If he takes a dislike to me?

"Then," said Toran matter-of-factly, "you would be the first pretty girl to inspire that in him. Before he lost his arm and stopped roving around the Galaxy, he ?Well, if you ask him about it, he'll talk to you about it till your ears wear down to a nubbin. After a while I got to thinking that he was embroidering; because he never told the same story twice the same way?

Haven II was rushing up at them now. The landlocked sea wheeled ponderously below them, slate-gray in the lowering dimness and lost to sight, here and there, among the wispy clouds. Mountains jutted raggedly along the coast.

The sea became wrinkled with nearness and, as it veered off past the horizon just at the end, there was one vanishing glimpse of shore-hugging ice fields.

Toran grunted under the fierce deceleration, "Is your suit locked?"

Bayta's plump face was round and ruddy in the incasing sponge-foam of the internally-heated, skin-clinging costume.

The ship lowered crunchingly on the open field just short of the lifting of the plateau.

They climbed out awkwardly into the solid darkness of the outer-galactic night, and Bayta gasped as the sudden cold bit, and the thin wind swirled emptily. Toran seized her elbow and nudged her into an awkward run over the smooth, packed ground towards the sparking of artificial light in the distance.

The advancing guards met them halfway, and after a whispered exchange of words, they were taken onward. The wind and the cold disappeared when the gate of rock opened and then closed behind them. The warm interior, white with wall-light, was filled with an incongruous humming bustle. Men looked up from their desks, and Toran produced documents.

They were waved onward after a short glance and Toran whispered to his wife, "Dad must have fixed up the preliminaries. The usual lapse here is about five hours."

They burst into the open and Bayta said suddenly, "Oh, my?

The cave city was in daylight ?the white daylight of a young sun. Not that there was a sun, of course. What should have been the sky was lost in the unfocused glow of an over-all brilliance. And the warm air was properly thick and fragrant with greenery.

Bayta said, "Why, Toran, it's beautiful."

Toran grinned with anxious delight. "Well, now, Bay, it isn't like anything on the Foundation, of course, but it's the biggest city on Haven II ?twenty thousand people, you know ?and you'll get to like it. No amusement palaces, I'm afraid, but no secret police either."

"Oh, Torie, it's just like a toy city. It's all white and pink ?and so clean."

"Well? Toran looked at the city with her. The houses were two stories high for the most part, and of the smooth vein rock indigenous to the region. The spires of the Foundation were missing, and the colossal community houses of the Old Kingdoms ?but the smallness was there and the individuality; a relic of personal initiative in a Galaxy of mass life.

He snapped to sudden attention. "Bay ?There's Dad! Right there ?where I'm pointing, silly. Don't you see him?"

She did. It was just the impression of a large man, waving frantically, fingers spread wide as though groping wildly in air. The deep thunder of a drawn-out shout reached them. Bayta trailed her husband, rushing downwards over the close-cropped lawn. She caught sight of a smaller man, white-haired, almost lost to view behind the robust One-arm, who still waved and still shouted.

Toran cried over his shoulder, "It's my father's half-brother. The one who's been to the Foundation. You know."

They met in the grass, laughing and incoherent, and Toran's father let out a final whoop for sheer joy. He hitched at his short jacket and adjusted the metal-chased belt that was his one concession to luxury.

His eyes shifted from one of the youngsters to the other, and then he said, a little out of breath, "You picked a rotten day to return home, boy!"

"What? Oh, it is Seldon's birthday, isn't it?"

"It is. I had to rent a car to make the trip here, and dragoon Randu to drive it. Not a public vehicle to be had at gun's point."

His eyes were on Bayta now, and didn't leave. He spoke to her more softly, "I have the crystal of you right here ?and it's good, but I can see the fellow who took it was an amateur."

He had the small cube of transparency out of his jacket pocket and in the light the laughing little face within sprang to vivid colored life as a miniature Bayta.

"That one!" said Bayta. "Now I wonder why Toran should send that caricature. I'm surprised you let me come near you, sir."

"Are you now? Call me Fran. I'll have none of this fancy mess. For that, I think you can take my arm, and we'll go on to the car. Till now I never did think my boy knew what he was ever up to. I think I'll change that opinion. I think I'll have to change that opinion."

Toran said to his half uncle softly, "How is the old man these days? Does he still hound the women?"

Randu puckered up all over his face when he smiled. "When he can, Toran, when he can. There are times when he remembers that his next birthday will be his sixtieth, and that disheartens him. But he shouts it down, this evil thought, and then he is himself. He is a Trader of the ancient type. But you, Toran. Where did you find such a pretty wife?"

The young man chuckled and linked arms. "Do you want a three years' history at a gasp, uncle?"

It was in the small living room of the home that Bayta struggled out of her traveling cloak and hood and shook her hair loose. She sat down, crossing her knees, and returned the appreciative stare of this large, ruddy man.

She said, "I know what you're trying to estimate, and I'll help you; Age, twenty-four, height, five-four, weight, one-ten, educational specialty, history." She noticed that he always crooked his stand so as to hide the missing arm. But now Fran leaned close and said, "Since you mention it ?weight, one-twenty."

He laughed loudly at her flush. Then he said to the company in general, "You can always tell a woman's weight by her upper arm ?with due experience, of course. Do you want a drink, Bay?"

"Among other things," she said, and they left together, while Toran busied himself at the book shelves to check for new additions.

Fran returned alone and said, "She'll be down later."

He lowered himself heavily into the large comer chair and placed his stiff-jointed left leg on the stool before it. The laughter had left his red face, and Toran turned to face him.

Fran said, "Well, you're home, boy, and I'm glad you are. I like your woman. She's no whining ninny."

"I married her," said Toran simply.

"Well, that's another thing altogether, boy." His eyes darkened. "It's a foolish way to tie up the future. In my longer life, and more experienced, I never did such a thing."

Randu interrupted from the comer where he stood quietly. "Now Franssart, what comparisons are you making? Till your crash landing six years ago you were never in one spot long enough to establish residence requirements for marriage, And since then, who would have you?"

The one-armed man jerked erect in his seat and replied hotly, "Many, you snowy dotard?

Toran said with hasty tact, "It's largely a legal formality, Dad. The situation has its conveniences."

"Mostly for the woman," grumbled Fran.

"And even if so," agreed Randu, "it's up to the boy to decide. Marriage is an old custom among the Foundationers."

"The Foundationers are not fit models for an honest Trader," smoldered Fran.

Toran broke in again, "My wife is a Foundationer." He looked from one to the other, and then said quietly, "She's coming."

The conversation took a general turn after the evening meal, which Fran had spiced with three tales of reminiscence composed of equal parts of blood, women, profits, and embroidery. The small televisor was on, and some classic drama was playing itself out in an unregarded whisper. Randu had hitched himself into a more comfortable position on the low couch and gazed past the slow smoke of his long pipe to where Bayta had knelt down upon the softness of the white fur mat brought back once long ago from a trade mission and now spread out only upon the most ceremonious occasions.

"You have studied history, my girl?" he asked, pleasantly.

Bayta nodded. "I was the despair of my teachers, but I learned a bit, eventually."

"A citation for scholarship," put in Toran, smugly, "that's all!"

"And what did you learn?" proceeded Randu, smoothly.

"Everything? Now?" laughed the girl.

The old man smiled gently. "Well then, what do you think of the Galactic situation?"

"I think," said Bayta, concisely, "that a Seldon crisis is pending ?and that if it isn't then away with the Seldon plan altogether. It is a failure."

("Whew," muttered Fran, from his comer. "What a way to speak of Seldon." But he said nothing aloud.)

Randu sucked at his pipe speculatively. "Indeed? Why do you say that? I was to the Foundation, you know, in my younger days, and I, too, once thought great dramatic thoughts. But, now, why do you say that?"

"Well," Bayta's eyes misted with thought as she curled her bare toes into the white softness of the rug and nestled her little chin in one plump hand, "it seems to me that the whole essence of Seldon's plan was to create a world better than the ancient one of the Galactic Empire. It was failing apart, that world, three centuries ago, when Seldon first established the Foundation ?and if history speaks truly, it was falling apart of the triple disease of inertia, despotism, and maldistribution of the goods of the universe."

Randu nodded slowly, while Toran gazed with proud, luminous eyes at his wife, and Fran in the comer clucked his tongue and carefully refilled his glass.

Bayta said, "If the story of Seldon is true, he foresaw the complete collapse of the Empire through his Jaws of psychohistory, and was able to predict the necessary thirty thousand years of barbarism before the establishment of a new Second Empire to restore civilization and culture to humanity. It was the whole aim of his life-work to set up such conditions as would insure a speedier rejuvenation,"

The deep voice of Fran burst out, "And that's why he established the two Foundations, honor be to his name."

"And that's why he established the two Foundations," assented Bayta. "Our Foundation was a gathering of the scientists of the dying Empire intended to carry on the science and learning of man to new heights. And the Foundation was so situated in space and the historical environment was such that through the careful calculations of his genius, Seldon foresaw that in one thousand years, it would become a newer, greater Empire."

There was a reverent silence.

The girl said softly, "It's an old story. You all know it. For almost three centuries every human being of the Foundation has known it. But I thought it would be appropriate to go through it ?just quickly. Today is Seldon's birthday, you know, and even if I am of the Foundation, and you are of Haven, we have that in common?

She lit a cigarette slowly, and watched the glowing tip absently. "The laws of history are as absolute as the laws of physics, and if the probabilities of error are greater, it is only because history does not deal with as many humans as physics does atoms, so that individual variations count for more. Seldon predicted a series of crises through the thousand years of growth, each of which would force a new turning of our history into a pre-calculated path. It is those crises which direct us ?and therefore a crisis must come now.

"Now!" she repeated, forcefully. "It's almost a century since the last one, and in that century, every vice of the Empire has been repeated in the Foundation. Inertia! Our ruling class knows one law; no change. Despotism! They know one rule; force. Maldistribution! They know one desire; to hold what is theirs."

"While others starve!" roared Fran suddenly with a mighty blow of his fist upon the arm of his chair. "Girl, your words are pearls. The fat guts on their moneybags ruin the Foundation, while the brave Traders hide their poverty on dregs of worlds like Haven. It's a disgrace to Seldon, a casting of dirt in his face, a spewing in his beard." He raised his arm high, and then his face lengthened. "If I had my other arm! If ?once ?they had listened to me!"

"Dad," said Toran, "take it easy."

"Take it easy. Take it easy," his father mimicked savagely. "We'll live here and die here forever ?and you say, take it easy."

"That's our modern Lathan Devers," said Randu, gesturing with his pipe, "this Fran of ours. Devers died in the slave mines eighty years ago with your husband's great-grandfather, because he lacked wisdom and didn't lack heart?

"Yes, by the Galaxy, I'd do the same if I were he," swore Fran. "Devers was the greatest Trader in history ?greater than the overblown windbag, Mallow, the Foundationers worship. If the cutthroats who lord the Foundation killed him because he loved justice, the greater the blood-debt owed them."

"Go on, girl," said Randu. "Go on, or, surely, he'll talk a the night and rave all the next day."

"There's nothing to go on about," she said, with a sudden gloom. "There must be a crisis, but I don't know how to make one. The progressive forces on the Foundation are oppressed fearfully. You Traders may have the will, but you are hunted and disunited. If all the forces of good will in and out of the Foundation could combine?

Fran's laugh was a raucous jeer. "Listen to her, Randu, listen to her. In and out of the Foundation, she says. Girl, girl, there's no hope in the flab-sides of the Foundation. Among them some hold the whip and the rest are whipped dead whipped. Not enough spunk left in the whole rotten world to outface one good Trader."

Bayta's attempted interruptions broke feebly against the overwhelming wind.

Toran leaned over and put a hand over her mouth. "Dad," he said, coldly, "you've never been on the Foundation. You know nothing about it. I tell you that the underground there is brave and daring enough. I could tell you that Bayta was one of them?

"All right, boy, no offense. Now, where's the cause for anger?" He was genuinely perturbed.

Toran drove on fervently, "The trouble with you, Dad, is that you've got a provincial outlook. You think because some hundred thousand Traders scurry into holes on an unwanted planet at the end of nowhere, that they're a great people. Of course, any tax collector from the Foundation that gets here never leaves again, but that's cheap heroism. What would you do if the Foundation sent a fleet?"

"We'd blast them," said Fran, sharply.

"And get blasted ?with the balance in their favor. You're outnumbered, outarmed, outorganized ?and as soon as the Foundation thinks it worth its while, you'll realize that. So you had better seek your allies ?on the Foundation itself, if you can."

"Randu, said Fran, looking at his brother like a great, helpless bull.

Randu took his pipe away from his lips, "The boy's right, Fran. When you listen to the little thoughts deep inside you, you know he is. But they're uncomfortable thoughts, so you drown them out with that roar of yours. But they're still there. Toran, I'll tell you why I brought all this up."

He puffed thoughtfully awhile, then dipped his pipe into the neck of the tray, waited for the silent flash, and withdrew it clean. Slowly, he filled it again with precise tamps of his little finger.

He said, "Your little suggestion of Foundation's interest in us, Toran, is to the point. There have been two recent visits lately ?for tax purposes. The disturbing point is that the second visitor was accompanied by a light patrol ship. They landed in Gleiar City ?giving us the miss for a change ?and they never lifted off again, naturally. But now they'll surely be back. Your father is aware of all this, Toran, he really is.

"Look at the stubborn rakehell. He knows Haven is in trouble, and he knows we're helpless, but he repeats his formulas. It warms and protects him. But once he's had his say, and roared his defiance, and feels he's discharged his duty as a man and a Bull Trader, why he's as reasonable as any of us."

"Any of who?" asked Bayta.

He smiled at her. "We've formed a little group, Bayta ?just in our city. We haven't done anything, yet. We haven't even managed to contact the other cities yet, but it's a start."

"But towards what?"

Randu shook his head. "We don't know-yet. We hope for a miracle. We have decided that, as you say, a Seldon crisis must be at hand." He gestured widely upwards. "The Galaxy is full of the chips and splinters of the broken Empire. The generals swarm. Do you suppose the time may come when one will grow bold?"

Bayta considered, and shook her head decisively, so that the long straight hair with the single inward curl at the end swirled about her ears. "No, not a chance. There's not one of those generals who doesn't know that an attack on the Foundation is suicide. Bel Riose of the old Empire was a better man than any of them, and he attacked with the resources of a galaxy, and couldn't win against the Seldon Plan. Is there one general that doesn't know that?"

"But what if we spur them on?"

"Into where? Into an atomic furnace? With what could you possibly spur them?"

"Well, there is one ?a new one. In this past year or two, there has come word of a strange man whom they call the Mule."

"The Mule?" She considered. "Ever hear of him, Torie?''

Toran shook his head. She said, "What about him?"

"I don't know. But he wins victories at, they say, impossible odds. The rumors may be exaggerated, but it would be interesting, in any case, to become acquainted with him. Not every man with sufficient ability and sufficient ambition would believe in Hari Seldon and his laws of psychohistory. We could encourage that disbelief. He might attack."

"And the Foundation would win."

"Yes ?but not necessarily easily. It might be a crisis, and we could take advantage of such a crisis to force a compromise with the despots of the Foundation. At the worst, they would forget us long enough to enable us to plan farther."

"What do you think, Torie?"

Toran smiled feebly and pulled at a loose brown curl that fell over one eye. "The way he describes it, it can't hurt; but who is the Mule? What do you know of him, Randu?"

"Nothing yet. For that, we could use you, Toran. And your wife, if she's willing. We've talked of this, your father and I. We've talked of this thoroughly."

"In what way, Randu? What do you want of us?" The young man cast a quick inquisitive look at his wife.

"Have you had a honeymoon?"

"Well ... yes ... if you can call the trip from the Foundation a honeymoon."

"How about a better one on Kalgan? It's semitropical beaches ?water sports ?bird hunting ?quite the vacation spot. It's about seven thousand parsecs in-not too far."

"What's on Kalgan?"

"The Mule! His men, at least. He took it last month, and without a battle, though Kalgan's warlord broadcast a threat to blow the planet to ionic dust before giving it up."

"Where's the warlord now?"

"He isn't," said Randu, with a shrug. "What do you say?"

"But what are we to do?"

"I don't know. Fran and I are old; we're provincial. The Traders of Haven are all essentially provincial. Even you say so. Our trading is of a very restricted sort, and we're not the Galaxy roamers our ancestors were, Shut up, Fran! But you two know the Galaxy. Bayta, especially, speaks with a nice Foundation accent. We merely wish whatever you can find out. If you can make contact ... but we wouldn't expect that. Suppose you two think it over. You can meet our entire group if you wish ... oh, not before next week. You ought to have some time to catch your breath."

There was a pause and then Fran roared, "Who wants; another drink? I mean, besides me?"
第二部 骡
　　骡……银河历史中的历代重要人物，要数“骡”的生平最少为人所知。即使在他最显赫的那段时期，想要了解他当时的言行事迹，主要也只能透过他对手的观点。其中，又以一位年轻新娘的观点最具权威性……
——《银河百科全书》


第十一章 新娘与新郎
贝妲对赫汶恒星的第一印象是一点也不壮观。她的先生也早就说过——它是位于虚空的银河边缘，一颗毫无特色的恒星，比银河尽头任何一个稀疏的星团都还要遥远。虽然那些星团发出的光芒稀稀落落，然而赫汶恒星却更为黯淡无光。
杜伦心里很明白，以这颗红矮星作为婚姻生活的前奏曲，实在是太过平凡无趣。所以他噘着嘴，以颇有自知之明的口吻说：“我也知道，贝，这并不是一个很合适的改变，对不对？我的意思是说，从基地来到这个地方。”
“简直是可怕的改变，杜伦，我真不应该嫁给你。”
他脸上立时露出了伤心的表情，在还没来得及恢复之前，贝妲就以特有的“惬意”语调说：“好啦，小傻瓜。我知道你就要把下唇拉长，装出你独有的垂死天鹅状——每次我轻轻抚摸你的头发，摩擦出好多静电，在你把头埋到我的肩膀之前，总是会现出那种表情。你想引诱我说些傻话，是不是？你希望我会说：‘杜伦，不论天涯海角，只要有你相伴，我就永远幸福快乐！’或者是说：‘亲爱的，只要能和你长相厮守，即使在星际间的深邃太空，我也觉得有家的温暖！’你承认吧。”
说完，她伸出一根手指头指着他，在他的牙齿就要挨近时，又赶紧把手缩了回去。
他只好说：“如果我认输，承认你说的都对，你是不是就能开始准备晚餐？”
她心满意足地点点头，这回他没说话，只是回报着微笑，目不转睛地看着她。
在别人的眼中，她并不能算是绝代美女——他自己也承认这一点——不过每个人都难免会多看她一眼。她的直发虽然有些单调，却乌黑而后丽；嘴巴纵使稍嫌大了些，但是她有一对致密的柳眉——眉毛上面是白皙稚嫩、没有一点皱纹的额头；下面是一双琥珀色的眼睛，笑起来的时候分外热情迷人。
她的外表看来坚强刚毅，似乎对人生充满了务实而理性的态度。然而在她内心深处，仍然藏有小小的一潭温柔。如果有谁想要强求，一定会无功而返。只有最了解她的人，才知道应该如何汲取——最要紧的是，绝对不能将这个意图表露出来。
杜伦随手调整了一下控制台上的按键，决定稍微休息一会儿。在下一次跃迁、再“直飞”数个毫微秒差距之后，才需要做人工飞行。他靠在椅背上向后望去，看到贝妲在贮藏室，正在选取食品罐头。
能娶到贝妲，他感到相当自得——过去三年以来，他一直在自卑感中惴惴不安地挣扎。他如今的表现，只是一种心满意足的敬畏，象徽着他的骄傲与满足。
无论如何，他只是一个乡巴佬——不只是一个普通的乡巴佬，他的父亲还是一名叛变的行商。而她却是道道地地的基地公民——还不只是一个普通的基地公民，她的家世可以直溯到伟大的侯伯•马洛。
冰于这些因素，使得杜伦心里始终有些忘忑。将她带回赫汶星，住在一个岩石世界的洞穴都市中，本身就是很糟糕的一件事。然而更糟的是，她还得面对行商对基地、漂泊者对都市人的双重传统敌意。
晚餐过后，完成了最后一次跃迁！
赫汶恒星本身是一团火红的猛烈光焰，它唯一的一颗行星——赫汶星——表面映着斑驳的红色光点，周围是一层迷蒙的大气，整个世界有一半处于黑暗之中。贝妲靠在巨大的显象台前，看着上面蛛网般纵横交错的座标曲线，赫汶星不偏不倚地位于座标的正中心。
她突然以严肃的口气说道：“我真希望当初能先见见你父亲，如果他不喜欢我的话……”
“如果真的这样，”杜伦轻描淡写地同答：“你会是第一个让我爸爸讨厌的美女。在他还没有失去一条手臂之前，还在银河各处浪迹天涯的时候，他……算啦，如果问他这种事情，他会对你滔滔不绝地说个没完，直到你的耳朵都长出茧来。后来，我总觉得他不断在添油加醋，因为他每次重复同样的故事，细节都会多少有些不同……”
现在赫汶星已经向他们迎面扑来，可以看见下面的内海以沉重的步调不停地旋转，青灰色的海面在稀疏的云层间时隐时现。还可以看到崎岖嶙峋的山脉，沿着海岸线延伸到远方。
当太空船更接近地面时，海面看来不再平滑如镜，呈现出满是波浪的皱褶。当他们在地平线尽头转向时，又瞥见了拥抱着海岸的众多冰原。
在激烈的减速过程中，杜伦以含糊的声音问：“你的衣服锁紧了没有？”
其实贝妲早已将整套衣服锁紧。这种特制的太空旅行衣贴身而吸汗，内部具有加温装置，锁紧后，里面的海棉泡可以抵抗加速度的作用。贝妲丰腴的脸庞，现在已被压挤得又红又圆。
太空船在一阵叽嘎的响声之后，降落在一个没有任何高原的开阔平地上。两人走出太空船，四周围是外银河伸手不见五指的黑夜。一股寒意陡然袭来，强风在旷野中打着转，令贝妲不禁倒抽了一口凉气。杜伦抓住她的手肘，两人跌跌撞撞地跑过平整的广场，朝远方漏出一线灯光的方向跑过去。
他们刚跑到一半，就有数名警卫迎面而来，经过几句简单的问话，警卫带着两人继续向前走。岩石制的闸门一开一关之后，强风与寒气便消失了。这个岩洞的内部既暖和又明后，还充满了嘈杂鼎沸的喧闹声。
杜伦掏出证件，让坐在办公桌后面的海关人员一一查看。结果海关人员只瞄了几眼，就挥手让他们继续前进。杜伦对他的新婚妻子耳语道：“爸爸一定事先帮我们打点好了，通常都得花上五个钟头才能出关。”
他们穿出了岩洞之后，贝妲突然大叫道：“喔，我的天……”
展现在他们面前的是一个宽广的洞穴都市，整个都市各个角落都明后如白昼，仿佛是沐浴在一个年轻的太阳之下。当然，这里绝不可能有什么太阳，本来应该是天空的地方，全都充满着弥散的明后光芒。温暖的空气浓度适中，还飘来阵阵绿色植物的香气。
贝妲说：“哇，杜伦，这里好漂后。”
杜伦心中的一块石头终于落下，他满心欢喜，微笑着道：“嗯，这里……贝，当然，这里跟基地一切都不一样，不过它是赫汶最大的城市——你知道吗？有两万居民——你会喜欢上这里的。只可惜此地没有游乐宫，不过却也没有秘密警察。”
“喔，杜，它简直像是一个玩具城市，放眼望去不是白色就是粉红——而且好乾净哟。”
“没错——”杜伦陪着她一起瞭望这座都市。建筑物大多只有两层高，都是用本地出产的平滑矿石建成。这里没有基地常见的尖顶建筑，也看不见旧时王国那种庞大密集的社区房舍——有的只是各有特色的小型住家，在泛银河的集体生活型态中，表现出了当年个人主义的遗风。
此时杜伦突然叫道：“贝——爸爸在那里！就在那里——我指的那个方向，小傻瓜，你看不见他吗？”
她的确看到了，但是对她而言，那只是一个高大的身影。她看见那人疯狂地挥着手，五指张开着，好像在空气中猛抓什么东西似的。不久之后，一阵巨雷般的吼叫声传了过来。
于是贝妲尾随着丈夫，冲过一大片密植的草坪。走到一半，她才看到前面还有一个小蚌子，那人满头白发，几乎全部被身旁高大的独臂人遮住。而那独臂人仍然在挥着手，仍然在大声叫着。
杜伦高声喊道：“那是我父亲的同父异母兄弟，你知道，就是曾经去过基地的那一位。”
四个人在草坪上会合，大家又说又笑乱成一团。最后，杜伦的父亲发出一声兴奋的长啸，才结束了混乱的场面。然后他拉了拉短上衣，又调整了一下镶有金属浮雕的皮带——那是他唯一愿意接受的奢侈品。他的眼睛在两个年轻人身上不停游移，然后带着轻微的喘息说：“你实在不应该挑这个烂日子回来的，孩子！”
“什么意思？噢，今天是谢顿的生日，对不对？”
“没错，所以我只好租一辆车，硬逼着蓝度开到这里来。像今天这种日子，你即使拿枪挟持公共交通工具，司机也不愿意从命。”
现在他的眼光凝注在贝妲身上，对她温和地说：“我这里有你的水晶像——的确很不错，但是我现在可以确定，拍摄这个水晶像的人只有业余水准。”
说着他就从上衣口袋中，掏出了一个小小的透明立方体。在光线的照耀下，里面出现了一个彩色的、栩栩如生的笑脸，活脱是一个迷你的贝妲。
“那个啊！”贝妲说：“我真不懂杜伦为什么会寄这种丑怪的东西给您。真奇怪，您怎么还肯来接我？”
“你现在还觉得奇怪吗？以后叫我弗南就好了，我不喜欢那些虚伪的礼数。所以，我想你也可以挽着我的手，我们一起走到车位去。直到刚才，我还一直认为我的孩子什么都不懂，我想我会改变这个看法，我必须改变这个看法了。”
此时杜伦轻声问他叔叔：“这些日子我的老头过得怎么样？他还有没有再继续猎艳？”
蓝度听了微微一笑，带起了满脸的皱纹。他答道：“情况允许的时候，杜伦，他还是照追不误。有些时候，当他想起自己的下一个生日是六十大寿，就缓箢他不禁垂头丧气。不过他只要大吼几声，把这个可怕的想法赶出心中，就会重新恢复往日的雄风。他是一个典型的老式行商，可是你呢，杜伦，你又是在哪里找到这么标致的老婆？”
年轻人听到这个问题，不禁咯咯笑了起来，他把两手抱在胸前，回答说：“叔叔，你要我把整整三年的追求史，一口气就说完吗？”
必到家以后，贝妲在小小的客厅中，吃力地脱下了连帽的太空旅行大衣，甩了甩头，让头发自然地垂下。然后她坐下来，双腿交叉，迎接着对面红脸大汉向她投注的欣赏目光。
“我知道您在试着估量我，乾脆让我自己说吧。年龄：二十四岁；身高：五尺四寸；体重：一百一十磅；王修科目：历史。”
贝妲已经注意到，弗南总是喜欢侧着身子站立，以便掩饰他失去的那只手臂。不过此时弗南却向她探过身来，对她说：“既然你提到了——体重：一百二十磅才对。”
当她面红耳赤之际，他大声笑得好开心，随即转身向大家说：“根据女人的上臂，就能够精确地估计出她的体重——当然，这需要足够的经验。贝，你想要暍一点酒吗？”
“我还想要点别的呢。”说完她就跟着弗南离开了客厅。杜伦并没有跟她去，他忙着在书架旁边翻找新书。
饼了一会儿，弗南独自回来，对儿子说：“她等一下就会下来。”
然后他把自己庞大的身躯，重重塞进角落的大椅子里，再将关节硬化的左腿搁上前面的凳子。杜伦转头面向着他，发觉笑容已从他的红脸上消失了。
哎南又继续说：“很好，孩子，你回家了，我很高兴你能回来。我也很喜欢你的女人，她看起来不像一个爱哭爱闹的绣花枕头。”
“我跟她结婚了。”杜伦回答得很乾脆。
“嗯，那就完全另当别论了，孩子。”他的眼神陡然间变得阴郁，又说：“你这样子将自己的未来绑死，实在是一种不智之举。我比你多活了几年，这方面当然比你更有经验，却从来没有干过这种傻事。”
蓝度本来站在角落一言不发，现在突然插嘴道：“拜托，弗南萨特，你怎么能这样比较？六年前你的太空船迫降失事，你才乖乖地在这里住了下来，在此之前，你没有在任何地方住得够久，从来也没有达到能够结婚的法定期限。而你出事之俊，又有谁要嫁给你呢？”
独臂老人突然从椅子上一跃而起，怒气冲冲地答道：“多得很呢，你这个满头白发的糟老头……”
杜伦赶紧发挥急智，将话题扯开：“爸爸，这主要是一个法律上的形式。这样子会有许多方便。”
“绝大多数是方便了女人。”弗南忿忿不平地说。
“即使是如此的话，”蓝度帮腔道：“仍然应该让孩子自己来决定。对于基地人而言，婚姻是一种古老的风俗。”
“基地人的作风，全都不值得老实的行商仿效。”弗南好像有一肚子不满。
杜伦又插嘴道：“我的妻子可是基地人。”
他轮流看了看父亲与叔叔，然后悄声说：“她回来了。”
晚餐之后，话题有了很大的转变。弗南为了替大家助兴，讲了三个自己亲身的经历，其中血腥、女人与生意的比重各占三分之一，当然免下了有夸大不实之处。客厅中的小型电视幕一直都开着，播出的是一出古典戏剧，不过音量调得很小，也根本没有人看。
现在蓝度坐在长椅上，挪换了一个更舒服的姿势，透过他长烟斗徐徐冒出的烟，看着跪坐在柔软的白色皮毛毯上的贝妲。这条皮毛毯是很久以前一次贸易任务中带回来的，只有在最重要的场合才会铺起来。
“姑娘，你说你读的是历史？”蓝度以相当愉快的口气问贝妲。
贝妲点点头：“我读得不好，辜负了师长的期望，不过多少学到一点皮毛。”
“什么辜负期望，她还拿过奖学金呢！”杜伦得意洋洋地帮妻子吹嘘。
“那么你学到些什么呢？”蓝度随口问道。
“什么都学，怎么样？”女孩子笑着回答。
老蓝度轻轻一笑：“那么，你对银河的现状有些什么看法？”
“我认为，”贝妲简单明了地说：“另一个谢顿危机就快来临——而如果这个危机不在谢顿的算计之中，那么谢顿计划就失败了。”
“唔——”弗南在角落喃喃地抗议：“怎么可以这样说谢顿。”不过他并没有真正说出来。
蓝度若有所思地吸着烟斗，然后又问：“是吗？你为什么这么说呢？我年轻的时候，曾经去过基地，你知道吗？我自己也曾有过一些很戏剧性的想法。可是请你告诉我，你为什么会这么说呢？”
“这个嘛——”贝妲陷入沉思，眼神现出了迷惘。她将裸露的脚趾勾入柔软的白色皮毛毯中，用丰腴的手掌托着尖尖的下巴，然后说道：“我认为，谢顿计划的主要目的，似乎就是要建立一个比银河帝国时代更好的新世界。银河帝国的天下，在三个世纪之前，也就是谢顿刚刚建立基地的时候，就已经开始崩溃瓦解——如果历史的记载尽皆属实，那么令帝国瓦解的三大弊病，就是泛银河性的惰性、专制，以及财货的分配不均。”
听到这里，蓝度缓缓地点着头，杜伦以充满骄傲的眼神凝视着妻子。坐在角落的弗南则发出几声赞叹，并且小心翼翼地帮自己再斟了一杯酒。
贝坦继续说：“如果关于谢顿的记载全是事实，那么也就是说，他的确利用心理史学的定律，预见了帝国全面性的崩溃，又预测到必须经过三万年的蛮荒时期，才能建立一个新的第二帝国，使人类的文化与文明得以复兴。而他毕生心血的唯一目的，就是要创造出许多适当的条件，以便确保银河文明加速复兴。”
此时弗南低沉的声音突然响起：“这就是他建立两个基地的用意，谢顿实在是太伟大了。”
“这就是他建立两个基地的用意。”贝妲完全同意这句话，接着她又说：“我们的基地，集中了来自垂死帝国的许多科学家，目的是要继承人类的科学与知识，并且加以发扬光大。这个基地在太空中的位置，以及它的历史条件，全都是谢顿的天才头脑精心计算的结果。谢顿已经预见在一千年之后，基地就会发展成一个崭新的、更伟大的帝国。”
室内顿时充满了一阵虔敬的沉默。
女孩继续柔声说道：“这是一个老掉牙的故事，你们其实全都知道。将近三个世纪以来，基地上每一个人都耳熟能详。不过我想，我最好还是从头说起——简单扼要地说一说。你们知道，今天正好是谢顿的生日，虽然我是基地的公民，而你们是赫汶人，谢顿却是我们共同景仰的对象。”
她慢慢地点燃一根烟，一面盯着发光的烟头，一面再说下去：“其实，历史学的定律和物理定律一样的绝对。如果历史定律产生误差的机率较大，那只是因为历史研究的对象——人，数目并没有物理学中的原子那么多，因此个别对象的差异就会产生较大的影响。谢顿预测了在基地发展的千年之间，会发生一个接着一个的危机，每个危机都会迫使我们的历史转向一次，以便遵循预设的历史轨迹继续前进。由于基地的发展主要是靠着这些危机引导，所以现在必定会有一个新危机来临。”
“现在。”她以强而有力的口气重复了一遍，然后又补充道：“上一个危机发生至今，已经几乎过了一个世纪。在过去这一个世纪中，帝国的一切积弊都在基地重现——惰性！我们的统治阶级只懂得一个规炬：守成不变；专制！他们只知道一个原则：武力至上；分配不均！他们的心中只有一个理想：一毛不拔。”
“而其他人却在挨饿受冻！”弗南突然怒吼道，同时使劲一拳打在椅子扶手上。接着他对贝妲说：“姑娘，你说的话可真是字字珠玉，那些躺在金山银山上的肥猪腐化了基地，而英勇的行商，却躲在赫汶这种鸟不生蛋的鬼地方，过着叫化子般的生活。这简直是对谢顿的侮辱，就像在他的脸上涂粪，向他的胡子吐痰一样。”
他将独臂高高举起，拉长了脸叫道：“如果我现在还有另一只手臂！如果——当初——他们肯听我的话！”
“爸爸，”杜伦说：“冷静一点。”
“冷静一点，冷静一点——”父亲没好气地故意学着儿子的口气，又说：“我们眼看就要老死在这里了，而你竟然还叫我冷静一点。”
蓝度一面挥动着烟斗，一面说道：“我们的弗南，真是现代的拉珊•迪伐斯。八十年前，迪伐斯和你丈夫的曾祖父，两人一起死在奴工矿坑中，就是因为他有勇而无谋……”
“没错，我向银河发誓，如果我是他的话，我也会那么做。”弗南赌着咒。然后他又意犹未尽地补充道：“迪伐斯是历史上最伟大的行商——基地人最敬佩的那个光会要嘴皮子的马洛，都没有他伟大。如果在基地作威作福的那些刽子手，因为他热爱正义就将他杀了，那么他们身上的血债就要再添一笔。”
“姑娘，继续说吧。”蓝度催促道：“继续说，否则我敢保证，今天晚上他会说个没完没了，明天还要滔滔下绝说上一整天。”
“没有什么可说的了。”她突然现出忧郁的神情：“我们必须要有一个新的危机，但是我也不知道应该如何制造。在基地中，改革的力量受到了强力压制；你们这些行商心有余而力不足，不是被迫害放逐，就是被分化离间。如果，能够将基地里里外外，所有的正义之士都团结起来……”
哎南突然发出刺耳的嘲笑：“你听到她的话没有？蓝度，听听她说些什么，她说‘基地里里外外’。姑娘，姑娘，那些养尊处优、脑满肠肥的基地人没什么希望了，在他们中间，少数几个人手里握着鞭子，其他的人都只有挨鞭子的份，一个愿打一个愿挨——至死方休。那个世界整个都腐化了，根本没有足够的勇气，敢面对一个好行商的挑战。”
贝妲想要插嘴，但是在弗南压倒性的气势中，她的声音几乎完全被淹没。
杜伦靠近她，伸出一只手来捣住她的嘴，以冷冷的口气说：“爸爸，你从来没有去过基地，对那里根本就一无所知。我告诉你，那里的地下组织天不怕地不怕，成员个个英勇过人。我还可以告诉你，贝妲也是他们其中的一份子……”
“好了，孩子，你别生气。怎么，有什么好发火的？”弗南真的有点语无伦次了。
杜伦继续激动地说：“你的问题，爸爸，是你的观念太狭隘。你总是认为，十万多名行商能逃到银河边缘一个无人的行星上，他们就算伟大得不得了。当然啦，基地派来的收税员，没有一个能够再离开这里，但是那样做只能算是匹夫之勇。如果基地派出了舰队，你们又要怎么办呢？”
“我们照样把他们轰下来。”弗南厉声回答。
“同时自己也会挨轰，而且将是以寡敌众——不论是人数、装备或组织，你们都比不上基地。当基地认为值得一战的时候，你们马上就会晓得厉害了。所以，如果有可能的话，你们最好尽快开始寻找盟友——就在基地里面找。”
“蓝度——”弗南喊道，还像一头无助的大公牛般看着他的兄弟。
蓝度缓缓将烟斗从口中抽出来，说道：“孩子说得对，弗南。当你扪心自问的时候，你也知道他说的都是对的。但是这些想法让人很不舒服，所以你才会大声咆哮，希望将它们驱走，可是它们仍然藏在你的心中。杜伦，我马上就会告诉你，我为什么把话题扯到这上面来。”
蓝度若有所思地咬着烟斗猛吸一阵，再将烟斗放进烟灰筒的颈部。烟斗在一道无声的光芒之后被吸得乾乾净净。他又拿起烟斗，用小指慢慢地填装着烟丝。
“杜伦，你刚才提到基地对我们的兴趣，的确是一语中的。基地的人最近来过两次——都是来收税的。问题是第二次来的那批人，还有轻型的巡逻舰负责护送。这一次，他们改在葛莱尔市降落——有意要让我们措手不及。那些人当然还是被我们逮到了，可是他们势必会再来。你的父亲全都心知肚明，杜伦，他心里真的很明白。
“看看这位顽固的浪子，他知道赫汶有了麻烦，他也知道我们根本束手无策，但是他却不停地重复自己那一套说辞。他唯有这样自我安慰，才会感到安全无虑。当他把能说的都说完了，该骂的都骂尽了，便觉得尽了一个男子汉、一个英勇行商的责任。到那个时候，他就会变得和我们一样讲理。”
“和谁一样？”贝妲问道。
蓝度对她微微一笑：“贝妲，我们组织了一个小团体——就在我们这个城市里。我们还没有做任何事情，甚至还未曾试图与其他城市联络。不过，这总是一个开始。”
“你们想要做什么呢？”
蓝度摇摇头：“我们也不知道——目前还不知道。我们期待奇迹出现，我们一致同意，另一个谢顿危机必须尽快来临，正如你刚才说的那样。”
他伸手朝天，夸张地比画了一下，又说：“银河中充满了帝国四分五裂之后的残余势力，很多将军割据地盘伺机而动。你想想看，如果某个将军变得足够勇敢的话，是否就代表时机来临了呢？”
贝妲想了一下，然后坚决地摇摇头。那一头发梢微卷的直发，也跟着在她的耳边打转。
“不，不可能的。那些帝国的将军，没有一个不晓得对基地发动攻击就等于自杀。贝尔•里欧思是帝国有史以来最杰出的将军，他当年攻击基地的时候，有整个银河的资源作为他的后盾，却仍旧无法击败谢顿计划。这个前车之鉴，难道还有哪个将军不知道吗？”
“但是如果我们巧妙地鼓动他们呢？”
“鼓动他们做什么？叫他们飞蛾扑火？你能用什么东西鼓动他们？”
“嗯，其中有一位——一位新近冒出来的将军。过去一两年间，据说出现了一个奇怪的人物，人们叫他‘骡’。”
“骡？”贝妲搜索着记忆，然后问杜伦：“杜，你听说过这个人吗？”
杜伦摇摇头，于是贝妲又问蓝度：“这个人又有什么不一样？”
“我不知道，但是据说他在敌我比例极端悬殊的情况下，仍然能够打胜仗。那些谣言难免会有些夸张，但是无论如何，假如能够与他结识的话，将是非常有意思的一件事。那些有足够能力，又有足够野心的人物，其实并非个个都敬畏哈里•谢顿，也不是全都相信他的心理史学定律。我们可以想办法，让他更不信这个邪，这样他就可能会发动攻击。”
“而基地最后仍然会战胜。”
“没错——但是并不一定容易。这样就可能造成一次危机，我们则能够利用这次危机，迫使基地那些独裁者妥协。至少，会使他们有很长一段时间无暇兼顾我们，让我们有机会做更充分的筹划。”
“杜，你认为怎么样？”
杜伦淡淡地笑了笑，将垂到眼前的一缯褐色蓬松鬈发拨开，回答道：“照他这种说法，做起来不会有什么害处。可是骡究竟是何方神圣？蓝度叔叔，你对他又有、多少了解？”
“目前为止还一无所知。这一点，杜伦，我刚好可以请你帮忙，还有你的老婆，如果她愿意的话。我们谈过这件事，你父亲和我两个人，我们曾经仔仔细细地讨论过。”
“蓝度叔叔，我们怎么帮忙呢？你要我们做些什么？”说完，他迅速地向妻子投注了一个询问的眼神。
“你们度过蜜月没有？”
“这个……可以算有……如果我们这一趟从基地到这里来的旅行，能够算是蜜月的话。”
“你们去卡尔根好好度一次蜜月如何？那个世界的气候属于亚热带——海滩、水上运动、猎鸟——是个绝佳的度假胜地。离此地差不多七千秒差距——还不算太远。”
“卡尔根有什么特别？”
“骡在那里啊！至少那里有他的手下。他上个月拿下了那个世界。虽然卡尔根的统领事先扬言要在弃守前，将整个行星炸成一团离子尘，骡却不战而胜。”
“现在这个统领在哪里？”
“他不在了。”蓝度耸耸肩，又问：“你怎么决定？”
“但是要我们去做些什么？”
“我也不知道。弗南和我都老了，又是乡巴佬——赫汶的行商其实都算是乡巴佬，连你自己也这么说。我们的贸易活动种类相当有限，也不像先人那样跑遍整个银河系——你给我闭嘴，弗南！
“可是你们两位对银河系却相当了解，尤其是贝妲，说的是标准的基地口音。我们只是希望你们尽可能去观察，如果可以接触到……不过我们不敢这样奢望。你们两位好好考虑一下，我还可以让你们与我们团体中的每个人见见面，如果你们希望的话……喔，不过最快也要等到下个星期，你们需要一点时间好好喘口气。”
客厅中保持了短暂的沉默，接着弗南又吼道：“还有谁要再喝一杯？我的意思是说，除了我以外？”
12. CAPTAIN AND MAYOR
Captain Han Pritcher was unused to the luxury of his surroundings and by no means impressed. As a general thing, he discouraged self-analysis and all forms of philosophy and metaphysics not directly connected with his work.

It helped.

His work consisted largely of what the War Department called "intelligence," the sophisticates, "espionage," and the romanticists, "spy stuff." And, unfortunately, despite the frothy shrillness of the televisors, "intelligence," "espionage," and "spy stuff" are at best a sordid business of routine betrayal and bad faith. It is excused by society since it is in the "interest of the State," but since philosophy seemed always to lead Captain Pritcher to the conclusion that even in that holy interest, society is much more easily soothed than one's own conscience ?he discouraged philosophy.

And now, in the luxury of the mayor's anteroom, his thoughts turned inward despite himself.

Men had been promoted over his head continuously, though of lesser ability ?that much was admitted. He had withstood an eternal rain of black marks and official reprimands, and survived it. And stubbornly he had held to his own way in the firm belief that insubordination in that same holy "interest of the State" would yet be recognized for the service it was.

So here he was in the anteroom of the mayor-with five soldiers as a respectful guard, and probably a court-martial awaiting him.

The heavy, marble doors rolled apart smoothly, silently, revealing satiny walls, a red plastic carpeting, and two more marble doors, metal-inlaid, within. Two officials in the straight-lined costume of three centuries back, stepped out, and called:

"An audience to Captain Han Pritcher of Information."

They stepped back with a ceremonious bow as the captain started forward. His escort stopped at the outer door, and he entered the inner alone.

On the other side of the doors, in a large room strangely simple, behind a large desk strangely angular, sat a small man, almost lost in the immensity,

Mayor Indbur ?successively the third of that name ?was the grandson of the first Indbur, who had been brutal and capable; and who had exhibited the first quality in spectacular fashion by his manner of seizing power, and the latter by the skill with which he put an end to the last farcical remnants of free election and the even greater skill with which he maintained a relatively peaceful rule.

Mayor Indbur was also the son of the second Indbur, who was the first Mayor of the Foundation to succeed to his post by right of birth ?and who was only half his father, for he was merely brutal.

So Mayor Indbur was the third of the name and the second to succeed by right of birth, and he was the least of the three, for he was neither brutal nor capable ?but merely an excellent bookkeeper born wrong.

Indbur the Third was a peculiar combination of ersatz characteristics to all but himself.

To him, a stilted geometric love of arrangement was "system," an indefatigable and feverish interest in the pettiest facets of day-to-day bureaucracy was "industry," indecision when right was "caution," and blind stubbornness when wrong, "determination."

And withal he wasted no money, killed no man needlessly, and meant extremely well.

If Captain Pritcher's gloomy thoughts ran along these lines as he remained respectfully in place before the large desk, the wooden arrangement of his features yielded no insight into the fact. He neither coughed, shifted weight, nor shuffled his feet until the thin face of the mayor lifted slowly as the busy stylus ceased in its task of marginal notations, and a sheet of close-printed paper was lifted from one neat stack and placed upon another neat stack.

Mayor Indbur clasped his hands carefully before him, deliberately refraining from disturbing the careful arrangement of desk accessories.

He said, in acknowledgment, "Captain Han Pritcher of Information."

And Captain Pritcher in strict obedience to protocol bent one knee nearly to the ground and bowed his head until he heard the words of release.

"Arise, Captain Pritcher!"

The mayor said with an air of warm sympathy, "You are here, Captain Pritcher, because of certain disciplinary action taken against yourself by your superior officer. The papers concerning such action have come, in the ordinary course of events, to my notice, and since no event in the Foundation is of disinterest to me, I took the trouble to ask for further information on your case. You are not, I hope, surprised."

Captain Pritcher said unemotionally, "Excellence, no. Your justice is proverbial."

"Is it? Is it?" His tone was pleased, and the tinted contact lenses he wore caught the light in a manner that imparted a hard, dry gleam to his eyes. Meticulously, he fanned out a series of metal-bound folders before him. The parchment sheets within crackled sharply as he turned them, his long finger following down the line as he spoke.

"I have your record here, captain ?complete. You are forty-three and have been an Officer of the Armed Forces for seventeen years. You were born in Loris, of Anacreonian parents, no serious childhood diseases, an attack of myo ... well, that's of no importance ... education, premilitary, at the Academy of Sciences, major, hyper-engines, academic standing ... hm-mmm, very good, you are to be congratulated ... entered the Army as Under-Officer on the one hundred second day of the 293rd year of the Foundation Era."

He lifted his eyes momentarily as he shifted the first folder, and opened the second.

"You see," he said, "in my administration, nothing is left to chance. Order! System!"

He lifted a pink, scented jelly-globule to his lips. It was his one vice, and but dolingly indulged in. Witness the fact that the mayor's desk lacked that almost-inevitable atom flash for the disposal of dead tobacco. For the mayor did not smoke.

Nor, as a matter of course, did his visitors.

The mayor's voice droned on, methodically, slurringly, mumblingly ?now and then interspersed with whispered comments of equally mild and equally ineffectual commendation or reproof.

Slowly, he replaced the folders as originally, in a single neat pile.

"Well, captain," he said, briskly, "your record is unusual. Your ability is outstanding, it would seem, and your services valuable beyond question. I note that you have been wounded in the line of duty twice, and that you have been awarded the Order of Merit for bravery beyond the call of duty. Those are facts not lightly to be minimized."

Captain Pritcher's expressionless face did not soften. He remained stiffly erect. Protocol required that a subject honored by an audience with the mayor may not sit down ?a point perhaps needlessly reinforced by the fact that only one chair existed in the room, the one underneath the mayor. Protocol further required no statements other than those needed to answer a direct question.

The mayor's eyes bore down hard upon the soldier and his voice grew pointed and heavy. "However, you have not been promoted in ten years, and your superiors report, over and over again, of the unbending stubbornness of your character. You are reported to be chronically insubordinate, incapable of maintaining a correct attitude towards superior officers, apparently uninterested in maintaining frictionless relationships with your colleagues, and an incurable troublemaker, besides. How do you explain that, captain?"

"Excellence, I do what seems right to me. My deeds on behalf of the State, and my wounds in that cause bear witness that what seems fight to me is also in the interest of the State."

"A soldierly statement, captain, but a dangerous doctrine. More of that, later. Specifically, you are charged with refusing an assignment three times in the face of orders signed by my legal delegates. What have you to say to that?"

"Excellence, the assignment lacks significance in a critical time, where matters of first importance are being ignored."

"Ah, and who tells you these matters you speak of are of the first importance at all, and if they are, who tells you further that they are ignored?"

"Excellence, these things are quite evident to me. My experience and my knowledge of events ?the value of neither of which my superiors deny ?make it plain."

"But, my good captain, are you blind that you do not see that by arrogating to yourself the right to determine Intelligence policy, you usurp the duties of your superior?"

"Excellence, my duty is primarily to the State, and not to my superior."

"Fallacious, for your superior has his superior, and that superior is myself, and I am the State. But come, you shall have no cause to complain of this justice of mine that you say is proverbial. State in your own words the nature of the breach in discipline that has brought all this on."

"Excellence, my duty is primarily to the State, and not to my living the life of a retired merchant mariner upon the world of Kalgan. My instructions were to direct Foundation activity upon the planet, perfect an organization to act as check upon the warlord of Kalgan, particularly as regards his foreign policy."

"This is known to me. Continue!"

"Excellence, my reports have continually stressed the strategic positions of Kalgan and the systems it controls. I have reported on the ambition of the warlord, his resources, his determination to extend his domain and his essential friendliness ?or, perhaps, neutrality ?towards the Foundation."

"I have read your reports thoroughly. Continue!"

"Excellence, I returned two months ago. At that time, there was no sign of impending war; no sign of anything but an almost superfluity of ability to repel any conceivable attack. One month ago, an unknown soldier of fortune took Kalgan without a fight. The man who was once warlord of Kalgan is apparently no longer alive. Men do not speak of treason ?they speak only of the power and genius of this strange condottiere ?this Mule."

"This who?" the mayor leaned forward, and looked offended.

"Excellence, he is known as the Mule. He is spoken of little, in a factual sense, but I have gathered the scraps and fragments of knowledge and winnowed out the most probable of them. He is apparently a man of neither birth nor standing. His father, unknown. His mother, dead in childbirth. His upbringing, that of a vagabond. His education, that of the tramp worlds, and the backwash alleys of space. He has no name other than that of the Mule, a name reportedly applied by himself to himself, and signifying, by popular explanation, his immense physical strength, and stubbornness of purpose."

"What is his military strength, captain? Never mind his physique."

"Excellence, men speak of huge fleets, but in this they may be influenced by the strange fall of Kalgan. The territory he controls is not large, though its exact limits are not capable of definite determination. Nevertheless, this man must be investigated."

"Hm-mmm. So! So!" The mayor fell into a reverie, and slowly with twenty-four strokes of his stylus drew six squares in hexagonal arrangements upon the blank top sheet of a pad, which he tore off, folded neatly in three parts and slipped into the wastepaper slot at his right hand. It slid towards a clean and silent atomic disintegration.

"Now then, tell me, captain, what is the alternative? You have told me what 'must' be investigated. What have you been ordered to investigate?"

"Excellence, there is a rat hole in space that, it seems, does not pay its taxes."

"Ah, and is that all? You are not aware, and have not been told that these men who do not pay their taxes, are descendants of the wild Traders of our early days ?anarchists, rebels, social maniacs who claim Foundation ancestry and deride Foundation culture. You are not aware, and have not been told, that this rat hole in space, is not one, but many; that these rat holes are in greater number than we know; that these rat holes conspire together, one with the other, and all with the criminal elements that still exist throughout Foundation territory. Even here, captain, even here!"

The mayor's momentary fire subsided quickly. "You are not aware, captain?"

"Excellence, I have been told all this. But as servant of the State, I must serve faithfully ?and he serves most faithfully who serves Truth. Whatever the political implications of these dregs of the ancient Traders ?the warlords who have inherited the splinters of the old Empire have the power. The Traders have neither arms nor resources. They have not even unity. I am not a tax collector to be sent on a child's errand."

"Captain Pritcher, you are a soldier, and count guns. It is a failing to be allowed you up to the point where it involves disobedience to myself. Take care. My justice is not simply weakness. Captain, it has already been proven that the generals of the Imperial Age and the warlords of the present age are equally impotent against us. Seldon's science which predicts the course of the Foundation is based, not on individual heroism, as you seem to believe, but on the social and economic trends of history. We have passed successfully through four crises already, have we not?" 

"Excellence, we have. Yet Seldon's science is known only to Seldon. We ourselves have but faith. In the first three crises, as I have been carefully taught, the Foundation was led by wise leaders who foresaw the nature of the crises and took the proper precautions. Otherwise ?who can say?"

"Yes, captain, but you omit the fourth crisis. Come, captain, we had no leadership worthy of the name then, and we faced the cleverest opponent, the heaviest armor, the strongest force of all. Yet we won by the inevitability of history."

"Excellence, that is true. But this history you mention became inevitable only after we had fought desperately for over a year. The inevitable victory we won cost us half a thousand ships and half a million men. Excellence, Seldon's plan helps those who help themselves."

Mayor Indbur frowned and grew suddenly tired of his patient exposition. It occurred to him that there was a fallacy in condescension, since it was mistaken for permission to argue eternally; to grow contentious; to wallow in dialectic. He said, stiffly, "Nevertheless, captain, Seldon guarantees victory over the warlords, and I can not, in these busy times, indulge in a dispersal of effort. These Traders you dismiss are Foundation-derived. A war with them would be a civil war. Seldon's plan makes no guarantee there for us ?since they and we are Foundation. So they must be brought to heel. You have your orders."

"Excellence?

"You have been asked no question, captain. You have your orders. You will obey those orders. Further argument of any sort with myself or those representing myself will be considered treason. You are excused."

Captain Han Pritcher knelt once more, then left with slow, backward steps.

Mayor Indbur, third of his name, and second mayor of Foundation history to be so by fight of birth, recovered his equilibrium, and lifted another sheet of paper from the neat stack at his left. It was a report on the saving of funds due to the reduction of the quantity of metal-foam edging on the uniforms of the police force. Mayor Indbur crossed out a superfluous comma, corrected a misspelling, made three marginal notations, and placed it upon the neat stack at his fight. He lifted another sheet of paper from the neat stack at his left.

Captain Han Pritcher of Information found a Personal Capsule waiting for him when he returned to barracks. It contained orders, terse and redly underlined with a stamped "URGENT"' across it, and the whole initialed with a precise, capital "I".

Captain Han Pritcher was ordered to the "rebel world called Haven" in the strongest terms.

Captain Han Pritcher, alone in his light one-man speedster, set his course quietly and calmly for Kalgan. He slept that night the sleep of a successfully stubborn man.
第十二章 上尉与市长
　　对于周围的豪华陈设与装潢，汉•普利吉上尉感到很不适应，也根本一点都不动心。只要是与他的工作没有直接关系的事物，他一贯的态度都是不闻不问——不论是自我心理分析，或是任何形式的哲学或形上学。
这种态度，对他而言很有帮助。
他干的这一行，陆军部称之为“情报工作”；内行人称作“特工”；小说家则管它叫“间谍活动”。虽然电视幕播放的那些没水准的惊险影集，总是为他这一行做不实宣传，但遗憾的是，“情报工作”、“特工”与“间谍活动”顶多只能算是下流的职业，其中背叛与欺骗都是最普通的家常便饭。然而在“国家利益”的大前提下，社会竟然都能谅解这种必要之恶。不过，哲学似乎总是让普利吉上尉得到一项结论——即使是顶着“国家利益”这么神圣的招牌，个人良知却不像社缓蠹心那么容易安抚。既然如此，他只好对哲学敬而远之。
现在，处身于市长的豪华会客室中，他却不由自主、不知不觉地反省起来。
他想到，许多同僚虽然能力不如自己，却都能够不停地升官晋级——这一点还算是可以接受。因为自己动不动就被长官骂得狗血淋头，并且常常遭到正式的惩戒，就差没有被踢出情报局。然而，他始终固执地坚守自己的行事方式，坚信他的抗命行为也是为了神圣的“国家利益”，他的苦心最后一定会得到认同与赞许。
他今天来到市长的会客室，也是由于同样的原因。会客室中除了他之外，还有刚才将他“请来”的五名士兵。也许里面正有一个军事法庭在等着他。
终于，厚重的大理石门一声不响地平缓滑开，里面是几堵光润的石墙，一条红色的塑质地毯，以及另外两扇镶嵌着金属的大理石门。两名军官随即走了出来，他们所穿的制服完全是三个世纪前的式样，正面左右各有数条华丽的直线条纹。
两名军官高声朗诵道：“市长召见情报局上尉——汉•普利吉。”
当上尉开始迈步向前走的时候，两名军官向后退了几步，向他行了一个九十度的鞠躬礼。那五名卫兵站在外门等候，由他独自一个人走进内门。
普利吉上尉穿过两扇大理石内门，来到一间宽敞而出奇单调的房间。在一个巨大而奇形怪状的书桌后面，坐着一个矮小的男子，他的小蚌子使人几乎忽略了他的存在。
他就是茵德布尔市长——茵德布尔三世。
茵德布尔三世的祖父茵德布尔一世，是一个既残忍又精明能干的人物。他的残忍在攫取权力的方式中发挥得淋漓尽致；他的精明能干，则在废止早已名存实亡的自由选举上表露无遗。而他竟然能够长期维持相当和平的统治，更表现出他精明能干的政治天才。
茵德布尔三世的父亲也叫茵德布尔——茵德布尔二世。他是基地有史以来的第一位世袭市长，但是他只遗传到了父亲的一半天赋——残忍。
所以说，如今这位基地市长，是第三代的茵德布尔市长，也是第二代的世袭市长。他是三代茵德布尔中最差劲的一位，因为他既不残忍又不精明更不能干，只能算是一个很优秀的记帐员——可惜却投错了胎。
茵德布尔三世是许多古怪性格的奇异组合，这一点所有人都知道，只有他自己例外。
对他而言，矫揉做作地喜好各种规矩就是“有系统”，孜孜不倦、兴致勃勃地处理鸡毛蒜皮的公事就是“勤勉”；对于该做的事情优柔寡断就是“谨慎”；对于错误盲目地、固执地坚持到底就是“决心”。
此外，他不浪费一点公币，没有必要绝不滥杀无辜，尽可能表现得与人为善。
现在普利吉上尉恭敬地站在巨大的书桌前。虽然他忧郁的思绪一直在这些事情上打转，毫无表情的脸孔却一点也没有出卖内心的想法。他没有故作镇定地咳嗽一声，也没有移动双脚的重心或者来回踱步，只是一动不动地耐心等待着。
市长手中的铁笔终于停止了忙碌的眉批。他从一叠整整齐齐的公文上，拿起了密密麻麻的一张，摆到另一叠整整齐齐的公文之上。
然后，茵德布尔市长缓缓抬起他的瘦脸，小心翼翼地伸出双手来互握着，唯恐弄乱了书桌上有条不紊的文具与陈设。
他公式化地说：“情报局的汉•普利吉上尉。”
于是普利吉上尉依照晋见市长的礼仪规范，一丝不苟地单膝跪下接近地面，并且垂着头，等候市长叫他起身。
“起来吧，普利吉上尉！”
市长以热心而充满同情的口气说：“我召你来，普利吉上尉，是因为你的上级准备惩戒你。拟议这些惩戒的签呈已经送到我这里来，根据正常的公文呈递程序，让我知晓了这件事情。基地上的事情没有一件是我不感兴趣的，因此我不辞辛劳，想要多了解一点这件案子的详情。我希望，希望你不会感到惊讶。”
普利吉上尉以平板的口气说：“市长阁下，我不会的。阁下处事公正廉明，基地上下人尽皆知。”
“是吗？是吗？”市长的声音中充满了喜悦。不过他戴的有色隐形眼镜迎着灯光，使他的眼睛流露出冷酷无私的目光。
市长谨慎地摊开面前一叠金属制的卷宗夹，里面的羊皮纸在他翻阅时发出噼啪噼啪的响声。他细长的手指头一面指着一行宇，一面说：“上尉，你的档案都在我这里——全部都在这里。你今年四十三岁，在军队中担任了十七年的军官。你生于洛瑞斯，双亲是安纳克瑞昂人，幼年时代没有患过任何重大疾病，有近视……嗯，这点不重要……民间学历，科学院毕业，主修，超核发动机，成绩……嗯——非常好，我应该赞赏你……基地纪元三一三年第一○二日加入陆军，官拜下级军官。”
他将第一个卷宗移开，顺便扬了扬眼睛，然后又开始翻看第二个卷宗。
“你看到啦，”市长说：“在我的管理之下，没有一件事情可以乱来。秩序！系统！”
说完，他将一个香喷喷的粉红色软糖放进嘴里。这是他唯一的坏习惯，但是食用的分量很节制。市长并不抽烟，这一点可以从他的书桌上看出来，因为上面完全没有处理烟蒂必然产生的闪光灼痕。
当然，这也就代表说，晋见者也一律不准抽烟。
市长的声音听来很单调，虽然有条不紊，却说得含含糊糊，不清不楚。不时还会细声地插进一些评语——不论是嘉奖或是斥责，口气都是同样的温和、同样的无力。
最后，他慢慢地将所有卷宗都归回原位，摆成整整齐齐的一叠。
“很好，上尉，”市长神采奕奕地说：“看来你的纪录的确不凡，你的能力实在出众，你的工作成果极有价值。我还注意到，你曾在执行任务时两度负伤，因此获颁一枚勋章，以褒扬你过人的英勇。这些事实，都是任何人不能轻易抹杀的。”
普利吉上尉木然的表情却毫无改变，他仍然保持着标准的立正姿势。根据礼仪规范的要求，荣获市长召见的部属不可以在市长面前坐下。为了强调这一点，市长办公室中只有一把椅子，就是市长屁股下面的那一把——只不过这样做似乎有些多此一举。此外，礼仪规范也要求晋见者除了回答问题外，绝不可以随意发表高见。
市长突然以严厉的目光逼视着上尉，他的声音变得尖锐而苛刻：“然而，你却有整整十年未曾晋升，你的上级又一而再、再而三地报告，说你的性格顽固又刚愎自用。根据那些报告，你习惯性地违抗上级的命令，无法维持对上级应有的态度，并且明显地不愿与同事维系良好的关系。此外，你还是一个无药可救的闯祸精。这些评语你要如何解释，上尉？”
“市长阁下，我所做的都是我自认正当的事情。我的所作所为都是为了国家着想。我曾因此而负伤，正好证明了我自认为正当之事，也同样有利于国家社会。”
“你这是军人的说法，上尉，但也是一种相当危险的信条。关于这件事情，我们等一下再谈。特别重要的一点，是你被指控三度拒绝接受一项任务，藐视我的法定代表所签署的命令。这件事你又怎么说？”
“市长阁下，那件任务并没有什么急迫性，真正最重要的急务却被忽视了。”
“啊，是什么人告诉你，你所说的事情就是真正最重要的急务？如果它们真的是最重要的，又是谁告诉你，说它们被忽视了？”
“市长阁下，我以为这些都很明显。根据我的经验和本行的知识——这两点连我的上司都无法否定——我可以肯定一切都非常明显。”
“但是，我的好上尉，你自作主张改变情报工作的政策，就等于是侵犯了上级的职权，难道你看不出来吗？”
“市长阁下，我的首要职责是效忠国家，而不是效忠上级。”
“简直大错特错，你的上级还有上级，那个上级就是我，而我就等于国家。得了吧，你不该会对我的公正有任何抱怨，你自己也说这是人尽皆知。现在，用你自己的话，解释一下你违纪这件事的来龙去脉。”
“市长阁下，我的首要职责是效忠国家。我到卡尔根那种世界，跟退休的太空商船船员生活在一起，只是手段而不是目的。我所接受的命令，是要我指导基地在该行星所从事的活动，并且建立一个组织，以便就近监视卡尔根统领，特别是要注意他的对外政策。”
“这些我都知道，继续说！”
“市长阁下，我所传回来的报告，一再强调卡尔根和它所控制的星系的战略地位。我也报告了那个统领的野心，以及他所拥有的资源、他想要扩张势力范围的决心，还提到必须争取他对基地的友善态度——或者，至少是中立的态度。”
“你的报告我都一字不漏地读过，继续说！”
“市长阁下，我在两个月前回到基地。当时，根本没有任何迹象显示战争迫在眉睫，唯一的迹象是卡尔根拥有充足的兵力，足以击退任何可能的侵略。可是在一个月以前，一个无名小卒却毫不费力地就拿下了卡尔根。卡尔根原来的那个统领，如今显然已经不在人世。人们并没有提到任何的叛变，他们只是谈论着这个佣兵首领，他的超人能力和他的军事天才——这个人叫作‘骡’。”
“叫作什么？”市长的身子向前探，还露出了不悦的表情。
“市长阁下，大家都管他叫‘骡’。有关他的真实底细，人们知道得非常少，但是我尽量搜集各种有关他的情报，再从中筛检出最可靠的部分。根据我的研究，他显然出身低微，原本也没有任何地位。他的生父不详，母亲在他出生时死去。他从小就四处流浪。在太空中那些被人遗忘的阴暗角落，他学缓笏一套生存之道。除了‘骡’以外，他没有任何其他名字。我的情报显示，这个名字是他自己取的，根据最普遍的解释，这象征着他过人的体能与倔强固执的个性。”
“上尉，别再管他的体格了，他的军事力量究竟如何？”
“市长阁下，许多人都说他拥有庞大的舰队，但是他们会这么说，也许只是受到卡尔根莫名其妙陷落的影响。他所控制的地盘并不大，虽然我还无法确定他真正的势力范围。可是无论如何，我们一定要好好调查这号人物。”
“哼——有道理！有道理！”市长陷入了沉思，一面还用铁笔在一张空白便笺上缓缓地画着。不一会儿他就画出了二十四条直线，这些直线构成六个正方形，排列成一个大的六边形。然后他将这张便笺撕下来，整齐地折成三折，丢进右侧的废纸处理槽中。便笺中的原子立刻被分解殆尽，整个过程清洁而又安静无声。
“现在，上尉，你该告诉我另外一件事了。你刚才说的是你‘必须’调查些什么，而你‘奉命’调查的又是什么事？”
“市长阁下，太空中似乎有一个老鼠窝，那里的人不肯向我们缴税。”
“啊，这就是你要说的吗？你可能不知道，也没有人告诉你，这些抗税的到底是些什么人。他们是以前那些野蛮行商的后裔——无政府主义者、叛徒、社会边缘人，他们自称是基地的嫡系传人，藐视如今的基地文化。你可能不知道，也没有人告诉你，你所谓的太空中的老鼠窝，其实不只一个，而是很多很多，比我们知道的还要多得多。而这些老鼠窝又互相串联谋反，并且全部和基地领域中无所不在的犯罪分子有勾结——甚趾蟋这里都有，上尉，甚趾蟋这里都有！”
市长突然冒起的怒火很快就平息了，他又说：“上尉，这些事情你都还不知道吧？”
“市长阁下，这些我都曾经听说过。但是身为国家的公仆，我必须忠诚地为国家效忠——而最忠诚的效忠方式，则莫过于效忠真理。不论旧派行商的残余势力有什么政治上的重要性，那些割据帝国当年领土的军阀，才真正拥有实际的军事力量。行商们既没有武器又没有资源，他们甚至并不团结。我可不是收税员，我才不要出这种儿戏般的任务。”
“普利吉上尉，你是一个军人，你的思考模式总是以武力为着眼点。我实在不该允许你发表这种高见，你这样等于是直接违抗我。你给我注意听好，我的公正可不是软弱。上尉，事实已经证明，不论是帝国时代的将军，或是当今的这些军阀，都同样无法与我们抗衡。谢顿用来预测基地未来发展的科学，并非如你所想像的那样，以个别的英雄行径作为考量，它根据的是社会和经济的历史演变趋势。我们已经成功地度过了四次危机，对不对？”
“市长阁下，我们的确度过了四次危机。然而谢顿的科学，却只有谢顿一人了解，我们后人所有的只是信心而已。根据我所接受的教育，在最初的三次危机中，基地都有英明睿智的市长领导，他们预先洞察到了危机的本质，并且早就做出适当的预防措施。如果不是这样的话，谁又敢说会演变成什么局面？”
“没错，上尉，但是你却忽略了第四次的危机。你想想看，上尉，虽然当时没有任何值得一提的领导者，面对的又是最足智多谋的对手、最庞大的舰队、最强的武力，然而由于历史的必然性，我们最后还是胜利了。”
“巾长阁下，这话是没有错。可是您所提到的这段历史，它之所以会成为‘必然’，是因为基地拼命奋战了整整一年的结果。这个必然的胜利，是我们牺牲了五百艘星舰，还有五十万战士的性命换来的。市长阁下，唯有自求多福，谢顿定律方能眷顾。”
茵德布尔市长皱起了眉头，对于自己的苦口婆心突然感到厌烦不已。他想到实在不应该如此故作大方，不但允许部属大放厥词，还放纵他与自己争辩不休，这绝对是一个错误。
于是他以严厉的口吻说：“可是无论如何，上尉，谢顿会保证我们战胜那些军阀。在这个紧要开头，我不能纵容你将力量分散。你对那些行商不屑一顾，但是他们与基地其实同出一源，基地与他们的战争将是一场内战。对于这种战争，谢顿计划不能保证任何事情——因为敌我双方都属于基地。所以必须好好教训他们一下，这就是你的命令。”
“市长阁下——”
“上尉，我并没有再问你任何问题。你已经接受了命令，就应该乖乖地服从。你如果跟我或是代表我的任何人，以任何的方式讨价还价，都将会被视为叛变的行为——现在你可以下去了。”
汉•普利吉上尉再度下跪行礼，然后缓缓地一步步倒退着走了出去。
茵德布尔三世——基地有史以来第二位世袭市长，终于再度恢复了平静。他又从左边整整齐齐的一叠公文中，拿起了最上面的一张。那是一份关于节省警方开支的签呈，拟议的方法是减少警察制服的金属泡滚边。茵德布尔市长删掉了一个多余的逗点，改正了一个错字，又做了三个眉批，然后再将这份签呈放在右手边，另一叠整整齐齐的公文之上。
接着，他又从左边整整齐齐的一叠公文中，拿起了最上面的一张……
当情报局的汉•普利吉上尉回到营房后，发现已经有一个私人信囊在等着他。信囊中的信笺写着给他的命令，上面斜斜地盖着一个“最速件”的红色印章，此外还有一个大大的“特”字浮水印。
汉•普利吉上尉接到的命令，是要他立刻到“称作赫汶的叛乱世界”去，这个命令是以最强硬的字眼与口气写成的。
汉•普利吉上尉登上他的轻型单人太空快艇，脸不红、气不喘地设定好飞往卡尔根的航道。当天晚上他睡得很安稳，因为他又成功地坚守了择善固执的原则。
13. LIEUTENANT AND CLOWN


If, from a distance of seven thousand parsecs, the fall of Kalgan to the armies of the Mule had produced reverberations that had excited the curiosity of an old Trader, the apprehension of a dogged captain, and the annoyance of a meticulous mayor ?to those on Kalgan itself, it produced nothing and excited no one. It is the invariable lesson to humanity that distance in time, and in space as well, lends focus. It is not recorded, incidentally, that the lesson has ever been permanently learned.

Kalgan was ?Kalgan. It alone of all that quadrant of the Galaxy seemed not to know that the Empire had fallen, that the Stannells no longer ruled, that greatness had departed, and peace had disappeared.

Kalgan was the luxury world. With the edifice of mankind crumbling, it maintained its integrity as a producer of pleasure, a buyer of gold and a seller of leisure.

It escaped the harsher vicissitudes of history, for what conqueror would destroy or even seriously damage a world so full of the ready cash that would buy immunity.

Yet even Kalgan had finally become the headquarters of a warlord and its softness had been tempered to the exigencies of war.

Its tamed jungles, its mildly modeled shores, and its garishly glamorous cities echoed to the march of imported mercenaries and impressed citizens. The worlds of its province had been armed and its money invested in battleships rather than bribes for the first time in its history. Its ruler proved beyond doubt that he was determined to defend what was his and eager to seize what was others. He was a great one of the Galaxy, a war and peace maker, a builder of Empire, an establisher of dynasty.

And an unknown with a ridiculous nickname had taken him ?and his arms ?and his budding Empire ?and had not even fought a battle.

So Kalgan was as before, and its uniformed citizens hurried back to their older life, while the foreign professionals of war merged easily into the newer bands that descended.

Again as always, there were the elaborate luxury hunts for the cultivated animal life of the jungles that never took human life; and the speedster bird-chases in the air above, that was fatal only to the Great Birds.

In the cities, the escapers of the Galaxy could take their varieties of pleasure to suit their purse, from the ethereal sky-palaces of spectacle and fantasy that opened their doors to the masses at the jingle of half a credit, to the unmarked, unnoted haunts to which only those of great wealth were of the cognoscenti.

To the vast flood, Toran and Bayta added not even a trickle. They registered their ship in the huge common hangar on the East Peninsula, and gravitated to that compromise of the middle-classes, the Inland Sea-where the pleasures were yet legal, and even respectable, and the crowds not yet beyond endurance.

Bayta wore dark glasses against the light, and a thin, white robe against the heat. Warm-tinted arms, scarcely the goldener for the sun, clasped her knees to her, and she stared with firm, abstracted gaze at the length of her husband's outstretched body ?almost shimmering in the brilliance of white sun-splendor.

"Don't overdo it," she had said at first, but Toran was of a dying-red star, Despite three years of the Foundation, sunlight was a luxury, and for four days now his skin, treated beforehand for ray resistance, had not felt the harshness of clothing, except for the brief shorts.

Bayta huddled close to him on the sand and they spoke in whispers.

Toran's voice was gloomy, as it drifted upwards from a relaxed face, "No, I admit we're nowhere. But where is he? Who is he? This mad world says nothing of him. Perhaps he doesn't exist."

"He exists," replied Bayta, with lips that didn't move. "He's clever, that's all. And your uncle is right. He's a man we could use ?if there's time."

A short pause. Toran whispered, "Know what I've been doing, Bay? I'm just daydreaming myself into a sun-stupor. Things figure themselves out so neatly ?so sweetly." His voice nearly trailed off, then returned, "Remember the way Dr. Amann talked back at college, Bay. The Foundation can never lose, but that does not mean the rulers of the Foundation can't. Didn't the real history of the Foundation begin when Salvor Hardin kicked out the Encyclopedists and took over the planet Terminus as the first mayor? And then in the next century, didn't Hober Mallow gain power by methods almost as drastic? That's twice the rulers were defeated, so it can be done. So why not by us?"

"It's the oldest argument in the books. Torie. What a waste of good reverie."

"Is it? Follow it out. What's Haven? Isn't it part of the Foundation? If we become top dog, it's still the Foundation winning, and only the current rulers losing."

"Lots of difference between 'we can' and 'we will.' You're just jabbering."

Toran squirmed. "Nuts, Bay, you're just in one of your sour, green moods. What do you want to spoil my fun for? I'll just go to sleep if you don't mind."

But Bayta was craning her head, and suddenly ?quite a non sequitur ?she giggled, and removed her glasses to look down the beach with only her palm shading her eyes.

Toran looked up, then lifted and twisted his shoulders to follow her glance.

Apparently, she was watching a spindly figure, feet in air, who teetered on his hands for the amusement of a haphazard crowd. It was one of the swarming acrobatic beggars of the shore, whose supple joints bent and snapped for the sake of the thrown coins.

A beach guard was motioning him on his way and with a surprising one-handed balance, the clown brought a thumb to his nose in an upside-down gesture. The guard advanced threateningly and reeled backward with a foot in his stomach. The clown righted himself without interrupting the motion of the initial kick and was away, while the frothing guard was held off by a thoroughly unsympathetic crowd.

The clown made his way raggedly down the beach. He brushed past many, hesitated often, stopped nowhere. The original crowd had dispersed. The guard had departed.

"He's a queer fellow," said Bayta, with amusement, and Toran agreed indifferently. The clown was close enough now to be seen clearly. His thin face drew together in front into a nose of generous planes and fleshy tip that seemed all but prehensile. His long, lean limbs and spidery body, accentuated by his costume, moved easily and with grace, but with just a suggestion of having been thrown together at random.

To look was to smile.

The clown seemed suddenly aware of their regard, for he stopped after he had passed, and, with a sharp turn, approached. His large, brown eyes fastened upon Bayta.

She found herself disconcerted.

The clown smiled, but it only saddened his beaked face, and when he spoke it was with the soft, elaborate phrasing of the Central Sectors.

"Were I to use the wits the good Spirits gave me," he said, "then I would say this lady can not exist ?for what sane man would hold a dream to be reality. Yet rather would I not be sane and lend belief to charmed, enchanted eyes."

Bayta's own eyes opened wide. She said, "Wow!"

Toran laughed, "Oh, you enchantress. Go ahead, Bay, that deserves a five-credit piece. Let him have it."

But the clown was forward with a jump. "No, my lady, mistake me not. I spoke for money not at all, but for bright eyes and sweet face."

"Well, thanks," then, to Toran, "Golly, you think the sun's in his eyes?"

"Yet not alone for eyes and face," babbled the clown, as his words hurled past each other in heightened frenzy, "but also for a mind, clear and sturdy ?and kind as well."

Toran rose to his feet, reached for the white robe he had crooked his arm about for four days, and slipped into it.

"Now, bud," he said, "suppose you tell me what you want, and stop annoying the lady."

The clown fell back a frightened step, his meager body cringing. "Now, sure I meant no harm. I am a stranger here, and it's been said I am of addled wits; yet there is something in a face that I can read. Behind this lady's fairness, there is a heart that's kind, and that would help me in my trouble for all I speak so boldly."

"Will five credits cure your trouble?" said Toran, dryly, and held out the coin.

But the clown did not move to take it, and Bayta said, "Let me talk to him, Torie," She added swiftly, and in an undertone, "There's no use being annoyed at his silly way of talking. That's just his dialect; and our speech is probably as strange to him."

She said, "What is your trouble? You're not worried about the guard, are you? He won't bother you."

"Oh, no, not he. He's but a windlet that blows the dust about my ankles. There is another that I flee, and he is a storm that sweeps the worlds aside and throws them plunging at each other. A week ago, I ran away, have slept in city streets, and hid in city crowds. I've looked in many faces for help in need. I find it here." He repeated the last phrase in softer, anxious tones, and his large eyes were troubled, "I find it here."

"Now," said Bayta, reasonably, "I would like to help, but really, friend, I'm no protection against a world-sweeping storm. To be truthful about it, I could use?

There was an uplifted, powerful voice that bore down upon them.

"Now, then, you mud-spawned rascal?

It was the beach guard, with a fire-red face, and snarling mouth, that approached at a run. He pointed with his low-power stun pistol.

"Hold him, you two. Don't let him get away." His heavy hand fell upon the clown's thin shoulder, so that a whimper was squeezed out of him.

Toran said, "What's he done?"

"What's he done? What's he done? Well, now, that's good!" The guard reached inside the dangling pocket attached to his belt, and removed a purple handkerchief, with which he mopped his bare neck. He said with relish. "I'll tell you what he's done. He's run away. The word's all over Kalgan and I would have recognized him before this if he had been on his feet instead of on his hawkface top." And he rattled his prey in a fierce good humor.

Bayta said with a smile, "Now where did he escape from, sir?"

The guard raised his voice. A crowd was gathering, popeyed and jabbering, and with the increase of audience, the guard's sense of importance increased in direct ratio.

"Where did he escape from?" he declaimed in high sarcasm. "Why, I suppose you've heard of the Mule, now."

All jabbering stopped, and Bayta felt a sudden iciness trickle down into her stomach. The clown had eyes only for her-he still quivered in the guard's brawny grasp.

"And who," continued the guard heavily, "would this infernal ragged piece be, but his lordship's own court fool who's run away." He jarred his captive with a massive shake, "Do you admit it, fool?"

There was only white fear for answer, and the soundless sibilance of Bayta's voice close to Toran's ear.

Toran stepped forward to the guard in friendly fashion, "Now, my man, suppose you take your hand away for just a while. This entertainer you hold has been dancing for us and has not yet danced out his fee."

"Here!" The guard's voice rose in sudden concern. "There's a reward?

"You'll have it, if you can prove he's the man you want. Suppose you withdraw till then. You know that you're interfering with a guest, which could be serious for you."

"But you're interfering with his lordship and that will be serious for you." He shook the clown once again. "Return the man's fee, carrion."

Toran's hand moved quickly and the guard's stun pistol was wrenched away with half a finger nearly following it. The guard howled his pain and rage. Toran shoved him violently aside, and the clown, unhanded, scuttled behind him.

The crowd, whose fringes were now lost to the eye, paid little attention to the latest development. There was among them a craning of necks, and a centrifugal motion as if many had decided to increase their distance from the center of activity.

Then there was a bustle, and a rough order in the distance. A corridor formed itself and two men strode through, electric whips in careless readiness. Upon each purple blouse was designed an angular shaft of lightning with a splitting planet underneath.

A dark giant, in lieutenant's uniform, followed them; dark of skin, and hair, and scowl.

The dark man spoke with the dangerous softness that meant he had little need of shouting to enforce his whims. He said, "Are you the man who notified us?"

The guard was still holding his wrenched hand, and with a pain-distorted face mumbled, "I claim the reward, your mightiness, and I accuse that man?

"You'll get your reward," said the lieutenant, without looking at him. He motioned curtly to his men, "Take him."

Toran felt the clown tearing at his robe with a maddened grip.

He raised his voice and kept it from shaking, "I'm sorry, lieutenant; this man is mine."

The soldiers took the statement without blinking. One raised his whip casually, but the lieutenant's snapped order brought it down.

His dark mightiness swung forward and planted his square body before Toran, "Who are you?"

And the answer rang out, "A citizen of the Foundation."

It worked-with the crowd, at any rate. The pent-up silence broke into an intense hum. The Mule's name might excite fear, but it was, after all, a new name and scarcely stuck as deeply in the vitals as the old one of the Foundation ?that had destroyed the Empire ?and the fear of which ruled a quadrant of the Galaxy with ruthless despotism.

The lieutenant kept face. He said, "Are you aware of the identity of the man behind you?"

"I have been told he's a runaway from the court of your leader, but my only sure knowledge is that he is a friend of mine. You'll need firm proof of his identity to take him."

There were high-pitched sighs from the crowd, but the lieutenant let it pass. "Have you your papers of Foundation citizenship with you?"

"At my ship."

"You realize that your actions are illegal? I can have you shot."

"Undoubtedly. But then you would have shot a Foundation citizen and it is quite likely that your body would be sent to the Foundation ?quartered ?as part compensation. It's been done by other warlords."

The lieutenant wet his lips. The statement was true.

He said, "Your name?"

Toran followed up his advantage, "I will answer further questions at my ship. You can get the cell number at the Hangar; it is registered under the name 'Bayta'."

"You won't give up the runaway?"

"To the Mule, perhaps. Send your master!"

The conversation had degenerated to a whisper and the lieutenant turned sharply away.

"Disperse the crowd!" he said to his men, with suppressed ferocity.

The electric whips rose and fell. There were shrieks and a vast surge of separation and flight.

Toran interrupted his reverie only once on their way back to the Hangar. He said, almost to himself, "Galaxy, Bay, what a time I had! I was so scared?

"Yes," she said, with a voice that still shook, and eyes that still showed something akin to worship, "it was quite out of character."

"Well, I still don't know what happened. I just got up there with a stun pistol that I wasn't even sure I knew how to use, and talked back to him. I don't know why I did it."

He looked across the aisle of the short-run air vessel that was carrying them out of the beach area, to the seat on which the Mule's clown scrunched up in sleep, and added distastefully, "It was the hardest thing I've ever done."

The lieutenant stood respectfully before the colonel of the garrison, and the colonel looked at him and said, "Well done. Your part's over now."

But the lieutenant did not retire immediately. He said darkly, "The Mule has lost face before a mob, sir. It will be necessary to undertake disciplinary action to restore proper atmosphere of respect."

"Those measures have already been taken."

The lieutenant half turned, then, almost with resentment, "I'm willing to agree, sir, that orders are orders, but standing before that man with his stun pistol and swallowing his insolence whole, was the hardest thing I've ever done."
第十三章 上尉与小丑
　　如果说，卡尔根被骡的军队攻陷的这个消息，在数千秒差距之外造成了一些回响——引起了一个老行商的好奇、一名顽固上尉心中的不安，还有一位过分仔细的市长的烦恼。然而，对于身处于卡尔根的人们，这个事实却完全没有造成任何变化，也没有引起任何反应。时间或空间上的距离会将某些事件的重要性放大，这是人类历史上永恒不变的教训。不过，根据历史的记载，人类却从来没有从这个教训中学到什么。
卡尔根仍旧是——卡尔根。在那个银河象限之中，只有卡尔根好像还不知道帝国已经崩溃，斯达涅尔皇朝的统治已经结束，帝国往昔的伟业已经消失，和平的时代已经不再。
卡尔根是一个充满享乐的世界。尽避银河中最大的政治结构早已土崩瓦解，它却没有受到任何影响，仍然是世人欢乐的泉源，继续经营着稳赚不赔的观光事业。
它躲掉了冷酷无情的历史劫数，因为不论是多么凶狠的征服者，都不会毁灭或者严重破坏这样一棵摇钱树。
然而，卡尔根终究变成了一个军阀的大本营，柔顺的世界被锻炼成足以应付任何战争。
在人工栽培的丛林中、线条柔和的海岸线旁，以及华丽而充满魅力的城市里，顿时都响起了军队行进的雄壮节奏。其中有来自其他世界的外籍佣兵，也有征召入伍的卡尔根国民兵。卡尔根势力范围内的各个世界，也一一被武装起来。有史以来，这是卡尔根首度将贿赂的花费省下，挪作购买星际战舰之用。它的统治者以行动明白地向全银河证明，他决心要保卫既有的领土，同时还汲汲于攫取他人的地盘。
这位统治者是银河中的一位大人物，足以左右战争与和平。眼看他就要成为一个帝国的缔造者，一个皇朝的开国皇帝。
然而谁也想不到，半路却杀出一个绰号滑稽可笑、原本默默无闻的人物，并且轻而易举就击败了他——以及他的军队，还有他的短命帝国，甚至可以说是不战而胜。
不久之后，卡尔根又恢复了昔日的秩序。国民兵迫不及待地脱下制服，重新拥抱过去的生活；原有的军队完成改编，并且收编了许多来自其他世界的职业军人。
于是就像过去那些年头一样，卡尔根又开始了各种观光活动。例如丛林中的打猎游戏，游客付一笔可观的代价，就可以追猎那些人工饲养、从来不曾害人的动物。如果厌倦了陆上的游猎，还可以坐上高速空中飞车，去猎杀天空中无辜的巨鸟。
镑个城市中，充满着众多来自银河各处逃避现实的人群。那里有各式各样的娱乐活动，可以让经济能力不同的人自由选择——从只需要花费半点硬币、老少咸宜的空中宫殿观光，到隐密没有标识、只有大财主才精热门路的种种游戏。
卡尔根的观光人潮中，多了杜伦与贝妲两人，就像是在大海中注入两滴雨点一样。
他们将太空船停泊在东半岛的大型公共船库，然后很自然地被吸引到“内海”来——这里属于中产阶级的游乐区，各种游乐活动仍然合法，甚至可以算是高尚，而游客也不至于粗鄙得令人无法忍受。
由于太阳很大，天气又热，贝妲戴了一副黑色太阳眼镜，只穿着一件白色的薄衫。她用那双被晒得发烫、却几乎没有晒红的手臂紧紧抱住双膝，眼睛茫然地盯着她的先生，从头到脚仔细端详他摊开来的身体——在耀眼的阳光照耀下，他的肌肤彷佛也在微微发光。
“可别晒得太久。”她早就这样子警告过他——可是杜伦家乡的太阳是一个垂死的红色星球，尽避他在基地待过三年，阳光对他而言仍旧是一项奢侈品。他们来到卡尔根已经四天了，杜伦总是先擦好防辐射的特殊油膏，然后只穿一条短裤，就躺在海滩上享受日光浴。
贝妲挤到他身边，两人依偎在沙滩上低声聊着。
杜伦的表情看来十分轻松，可是口中吐出的声音却很沮丧。他说：“好吧，我承认我们毫无进展。可是他在哪里？他到底是什么人？在这个疯狂的世界上，完全没有他的踪迹，也许他根本就不存在。”
“他绝对存在，”贝妲回答道，可是她的嘴唇并没有动：“只是他太聪明了。你叔叔说得对，他是我们可以利用的人——如果还有时间的话。”
短暂的沉默之后，杜伦又轻声地说：“贝，你知道我在做什么吗？我正在作白日梦。我被太阳晒得昏昏沉沉，感到一切似乎都进行得很顺利——很完美。”
他的声音越来越小，几乎细不可闻，然后又稍微提高音量道：“贝，记不记得大学里的亚曼博士怎么说的？虽然基地绝对不可能战败，但是这并不代表说，基地的统治者绝对不会下台。基地正式的历史，难道不是从塞佛•哈定赶走了百科全书编纂者，以第一任市长的身分，接管端点星后才开始的吗？然后又过了一个世纪，侯伯•马洛掌握大权的方式，难道不也是同样的激进吗？既然有两次统治者被击败的先例，就表示这是可行的，我们又为什么做不到呢？”
“那是书本上老掉牙的说法，杜，你想得太美了，根本就是在浪费时间。”
“是吗？你听好，赫汶是什么？难道它不是基地的一部分吗？如果由我们来当家作主，仍然算是基地的胜利，失败的只是如今的统治者。”
“在‘我们能’和‘我们会’之间，还有一段很大的距离，你说的只是一堆废话而已。”
杜伦不悦地挪动身子：“小笨蛋，贝，你这是酸葡萄心理。你这样扫我的兴，对你有什么好处？如果你不介意的话，我想要睡一会儿。”
贝妲却突然伸长了脖子，还没来由地咯咯笑了起来。她一面笑着，一面摘下了太阳眼镜，用手遮着眼睛，向海滩的远处眺望。
杜伦抬起头，然后又爬起来，转过身，顺着她的视线望去。
她显然是在望着一个细长的身影，那人正在为来往的群众表演倒立，他的双脚停驻在半空中，双手在地面摇摇蔽晃地来回走动。一看就知道，他是那些群聚在海边的乞丐之一。现在，他弯曲着柔软的关节，双脚迅速地变化姿势，靠着这种杂耍向围观的群众乞讨。
这时一名海滩警卫向他走过去，而小丑竟能用单手保持平衡，伸出一只手来，将大拇指放在鼻子上，头下脚上地做了一个鬼脸。警卫来势汹汹地向他走过去，却被小丑一脚踢中肚子，于是又跌跌撞撞地倒退回去。小丑随即顺势站了起来，马上一溜烟地消失无踪，气得口吐白沫的警卫拔腿想追，却被周围冷漠的人群阻住了去路。
小丑顺着海边左冲右撞，他掠过了许多人，还不时表现得犹豫不决，不过一直都没有停下来。不久，原先观看杂耍表演的群众全部散去，而那名警卫也离开了。
“他真是个奇怪的家伙。”贝妲觉得很有趣，杜伦只是随口表示同意。
此时小丑朝他们的方向越跑越近，他们渐渐可以看清楚小丑的容貌了。他的脸很瘦，鼻子又大又长，五官几乎都集中在长鼻子周围，华丽的衣服将他细长的四肢与身躯衬托得更醒目。他虽然行动灵活优雅，但整个人活脱像是随意拼凑起来的。令人看到就忍不住发笑。
小丑经过了杜伦与贝妲，似乎突然察觉到他们在注意自己，于是他停住脚步，一个急转弯，又向他们走了过来，一双褐色的大眼睛紧紧盯住贝妲。
贝妲一时之间不知如何是好。
小丑露出了微笑。可是这个微笑显露在他挂着长鼻子的脸上，却让人感觉到比哭更难看。当他开口的时候，说的是核心星区的方言，听起来和气而做作。
“若是我能借用慈悲的圣灵赐予我的智慧，”他说道：“我会说眼前这位女士绝不属于人间——头脑清醒的人会认为这只是一场美梦，我却宁愿头脑不清，相信我这对被迷惑的眼睛见到的都是真实。”
贝妲双眼睁得老大，忍不住叫道：“哇！”
杜伦笑道：“喔，你成了迷人心魄的妖精了。这些话值得给他五点硬币，贝，拿给他吧。”
不料小丑却向前一跃，对他们说：“不，我亲爱的女士，可千万别误会。我说这些话绝非为了讨钱，而是为了赞美一双明后的眸子，还有您甜美的脸蛋。”
“那可真谢谢你啦。”贝妲说完，又对杜伦说：“天呀，你想他是不是被太阳晒昏了头？”
“还不只是眸子和脸蛋而已，”小丑继续喋喋不休，说的话越来越疯癫：“还有您的心地，纯洁而善良——并且充满了慈爱。”
杜伦站起身来，抓起了四天以来一直挟在腋下的白衬衫，将它套在身上，然后说：“好啦，兄弟，请你告诉我你究竟想要什么，别再烦这位女士了。”
小丑却吓得倒退一步，瘦弱的身子缩成一团。他回答道：“喔，我绝对没有恶意。我来自外地，大家都认为我脑筋有问题，不过至少我还懂得察言观色。在这位女士美丽的外表之下，藏着一颗慈爱的心，我知道她会帮我排难解纷，才会说出如此冒昧的言语。”
“五点硬币能不能解决你的问题？”杜伦以挖苦的口气问，同时把钱掏出来。
然而小丑却没有伸手。
“让我来跟他说吧，杜。”贝妲对杜伦说，然后又很快地细声补充道：“他说的话听来虽然疯疯癫癫，不过你根本不用介意，他们的方言本来就是这样。对他而言，我们说的话也许一样很奇怪。”
接着贝妲对小丑说：“你的麻烦是什么？你不是在担心那个警卫吧？他不会再来找你的麻烦了。”
“喔，不是，当然不是他。他只是一阵微风，只能把一些灰尘吹上我的脚踝，就是如此而已。我是在躲避另外一个人，他可是席卷世界的暴风，能将整个世界吹得东倒西歪。一个星期之前我逃了出来，露宿在城市的街头，混迹在城市的人群中。为了要寻找一个能救苦救难的好心人，我曾经端详过许多张脸孔，如今我终于找到了。”
“如今我终于找到了。”他把最后这句话又重复了一递，语气听来更温柔、更急切，大眼睛里还充满了不安。
“这——”贝妲心平气和地说：“我很愿意帮助你，可是说句实话，朋友，对于席卷世界的暴风，我也无法提供任何庇护。老实说，我也许能……”
此时，一阵高亢的怒吼声突然逼近。
“好啊，你这个泥巴里长出来的混蛋——”
来人就是刚才那名海滩警卫，他的脸涨得通红，一面跑过来，一面还拼命骂个不停。
警卫一跑到他们面前便举起了低功率的麻痹枪。
“抓住他，你们两个，别让他跑掉了。”他粗大的手掌落向小丑细瘦的肩头，小丑立刻发出一阵哭喊。
杜伦问警卫：“他到底做了什么？”“他到底做了什么？他到底做了什么？哈哈，你问得好！”警卫将手伸进挂在腰带的随身囊中，掏出一条紫色的手帕，埠笏擦脖子上的汗珠，然后兴高采烈地答道：“让我告诉你他到底做了什么——这小子是一名逃犯，他逃跑的消息传遍了整个卡尔根。刚才如果不是他头下脚上的话，我早就认出他了。”
说完，他一面狂笑，一面猛力摇着他的俘虏。
贝妲微笑着说：“先生，请问他又是从哪里逃出来的？”
此时附近的人群渐渐靠拢，目不转睛地看着这场好戏，还免不了吱吱喳喳地交头接耳。随着旁观的人越来越多，警卫越来越感到自己很重要。
“他又是从哪里逃出来的？”他提高了嗓门，以充满嘲讽的口气说：“哈哈，我想你们一定听说过骡是什么人吧。”
顿时所有的吱喳声都消失了。贝妲感到胃部突然冒起一丝寒气。小丑仍被警卫结实的手臂紧紧抓住，他不停地发着抖，但是眼睛始终停驻在贝妲身上。
警卫继续凶巴巴地说：“你知道这个可恶的杂碎是谁？他就是大人的弄臣，前几天从宫中逃出来的。”
说完，他又用力摇蔽着小丑，问道：“傻子，你承不承认？”
小丑没有说话，但是却吓得脸色更加苍白。贝妲赶紧靠在杜伦身边，向杜伦耳语了几句。
然后杜伦向警卫走近，很客气地说：“先生，请你把手拿开一下。你抓着的这个艺人，刚才已经收了我们的钱，正在为我们表演舞蹈，还没有表演完呢。”
“对了！”警卫好像突然想到什么，声音又陡然提高：“还有赏金……”
“你自己去领赏吧，只要你能证明他就是你要找的人。不过在此之前，请你把手松开。你可知道，你正在干扰游客的观光活动，这会为你带来很大的麻烦。”
“可是你却正在插手大人的公事，这一定会为你带来更大的麻烦。”警卫再度摇蔽着小丑：“死东西，把钱还给人家。”
杜伦突然以迅雷不及掩耳的动作，一把夺下了警卫手中的麻痹枪，差点还把警卫的半根手指也一块扯下来。警卫痛得发出一阵狂哮，像是一头被激怒的疯狗。杜伦又猛力推了他一把，小丑终于脱身，赶紧躲到杜伦背后去。
看热闹的群众现在已经人山人海，许多人都没看到这个惊人的发展。外圈有不少人引颈而望，可是内圈的人却开始向外挤，像是希望与中心保持更安全的距离。
远方突然又起了一阵骚动，随即传来一声刺耳的号令。群众赶紧让出一条路，两名士兵大摇大摆地走了过来，随手握着的电鞭彷佛蓄势待发。他们的紫色军服上绣着一道尖锐的闪电，下方还有一个裂成两半的行星。
在两人后面，跟着走来一位穿着中尉制服的军官。他的体格魁梧，黑皮肤、黑头发，脸色显得极为阴沉。
黑皮肤的中尉开口便问：“你就是那个通知我们的人？”他的声音温和得令人感到做作，代表他根本不必大吼大叫以壮声势。
警卫仍然在揉搓着扭伤的手，脸孔因痛苦而扭曲。他含糊地答道：“阁下，赏金是我的。我还要指控那个人……”
“你会得到赏金的。”中尉回答，却根本没有看着警卫。然后他对手下随便做个手势，命令道：“把他带走。”
杜伦感到小丑在拼命扯着他的衣角，于是他也提高嗓门，勉力不让声音发抖，对中尉说：“很抱歉，中尉，这个人是我的。”
中尉的两名手下根本就把杜伦的话当耳边风，其中一个已经顺手举起了鞭子。中尉立时大喝一声，他才将鞭子放了下来。
中尉黝黑粗壮的身躯向前移动，峙立在杜伦面前。“你是什么人？”
杜伦不加思索便回答：“我是基地的公民。”
这句话立刻生效——至少在围观的群众问引起了震撼。勉强维持的沉默立时被打破，一时之间周围又充满了嘈杂声。骡的名字也许能够引起畏惧，但是那毕竟只是一个新的名号，不像“基地”的老招牌那样深入人心。基地过去曾经击败帝国，如今则以残酷的专制手段，统治着银河中整整一个象限，令所有的人都敬而远之。
然而中尉却面不改色，对杜伦说：“躲在你后面的那个人，你可知道他的身分吗？”
“听说他是从你们领导者的宫殿中逃出来的，但我却只能肯定他是我的朋友。如果你想带他走，必须提出充分的证据。”
人群中发出了高亢的叹息，中尉却毫不理会，继续说道：“你带了基地公民的证件吗？”
“在我的太空船上。”
“你可知道你的行为触犯了法律？我可以当场把你枪毙。”
“这一点毫无疑问。但是如果你杀死一个基地公民，你们的领导者为了向基地赔罪，很可能就会将你五马分尸，然后再送到基地去。其他世界的统领就曾经这么做过。”
中尉舔了舔嘴唇，他很明白杜伦说的都是事实。
然后他又问：“你叫什么名字？”
杜伦却得理不饶人：“回到我的太空船之后，我才愿意回答其他的问题。你可以在船库中查到我们的隔间号码，登记的名称是‘贝妲号’。”
“你现在不肯将这个逃犯交给我吗？”
“如果骡向我要人，我也许会交给他。叫你的主子来找我们吧！”
然后他们的对话就变成了耳语，不久，中尉陡然一转身。
“把群众驱散！”他对两名手下说，用的却是一点也不凶残的口气。
于是两条电鞭扬起又落下，立刻传来一阵尖叫声，所有的人都争先恐后作鸟兽散。
在他们乘坐短程飞船离开海滩，回到船库的途中，杜伦一直在低头沉思。他总共只开了一次口，却好像是在自言自语：“天啊，贝，刚才实在太惊险了！我好害怕……”
“是啊，实在看不出来你那么勇敢。”她的声音仍带着颤抖，近乎崇拜的眼神还没有消褪。
“可是，我仍不太清楚究竟发生了什么事。我突然发现手中多了一柄麻痹枪，甚至不敢确定自己会不会用。然后我又跟中尉对答如流，我自己也不晓得为什么要这么做。”
他抬头看了看走道对面的座位，骡的小丑正缩成一团呼呼大睡。然后他又以不悦的口气补充道：“我从来没有做过这么困难的事。”
中尉恭敬地站在驻军团长的面前，团长抬起头来看看他，然后说：“干得很好，你的任务完成了。”
不过中尉并没有立刻离去，他以沉重的口气说：“报告长官，骡在众人面前失了面子，我们需要进行一些惩戒，以便挽回骡的尊严。”
“补救措施已经都做过了。”
中尉刚要转身，突然又忿忿地说：“长官，命令就是命令，所以我必须服从。可是，站在一个手持麻痹枪的人面前，对他的无礼态度忍气吞声，我从来没有做过这么困难的事。”
14. THE MUTANT
The "hangar" on Kalgan is an institution peculiar unto itself, born of the need for the disposition of the vast number of ships brought in by the visitors from abroad, and the simultaneous and consequent vast need for living accommodations for the same. The original bright one who had thought of the obvious solution had quickly become a millionaire. His heirs ?by birth or finance ?were easily among the richest on Kalgan.

The "hangar" spreads fatly over square miles of territory, and "hangar" does not describe it at all sufficiently. It is essentially a hotel ?for ships. The traveler pays in advance and his ship is awarded a berth from which it can take off into space at any desired moment. The visitor then lives in his ship as always. The ordinary hotel services such as the replacement of food and medical supplies at special rates, simple servicing of the ship itself, special intra-Kalgan transportation for a nominal sum are to be had, of course.

As a result, the visitor combines hangar space and hotel bill into one, at a saving. The owners sell temporary use of ground space at ample profits. The government collects huge taxes. Everyone has fun. Nobody loses. Simple!

The man who made his way down the shadow-borders of the wide corridors that connected the multitudinous wings of the "hangar" had in the past speculated on the novelty and usefulness of the system described above, but these were reflections for idle moments ?distinctly unsuitable at present.

The ships hulked in their height and breadth down the long lines of carefully aligned cells, and the man discarded line after line. He was an expert at what he was doing now and if his preliminary study of the hangar registry had failed to give specific information beyond the doubtful indication of a specific wing ?one containing hundreds of ships ?his specialized knowledge could winnow those hundreds into one.

There was the ghost of a sigh in the silence, as the man stopped and faded down one of the lines; a crawling insect beneath the notice of the arrogant metal monsters that rested there.

Here and there the sparkling of light from a porthole would indicate the presence of an early returner from the organized pleasures to simpler ?or more private ?pleasures of his own.

The man halted, and would have smiled if he ever smiled. Certainly the convolutions of his brain performed the mental equivalent of a smile.

The ship he stopped at was sleek and obviously fast. The peculiarity of its design was what he wanted. It was not a usual model ?and these days most of the ships of this quadrant of the Galaxy either imitated Foundation design or were built by Foundation technicians. But this was special. This was a Foundation ship ?if only because of the tiny bulges in the skin that were the nodes of the protective screen that only a Foundation ship could possess. There were other indications, too.

The man felt no hesitation.

The electronic barrier strung across the line of the ships as a concession to privacy on the part of the management was not at all important to him. It parted easily, and without activating the alarm, at the use of the very special neutralizing force he had at his disposal.

So the first knowledge within the ship of the intruder without was the casual and almost friendly signal of the muted buzzer in the ship's living room that was the result of a palm placed over the little photocell just one side of the main air lock.

And while that successful search went on, Toran and Bayta felt only the most precarious security within the steel walls of the Bayta. The Mule's clown who had reported that within his narrow compass of body he held the lordly name of Magnifico Giganticus, sat hunched over the table and gobbled at the food set before him.

His sad, brown eyes lifted from his meat only to follow Bayta's movements in the combined kitchen and larder where he ate.

"The thanks of a weak one are of but little value," he muttered, "but you have them, for truly, in this past week, little but scraps have come my way ?and for all my body is small, yet is my appetite unseemly great."

"Well, then, eat!" said Bayta, with a smile. "Don't waste your time on thanks. Isn't there a Central Galaxy proverb about gratitude that I once heard?"

"Truly there is, my lady. For a wise man, I have been told, once said, 'Gratitude is best and most effective when it does not evaporate itself in empty phrases.' But alas, my lady, I am but a mass of empty phrases, it would seem. When my empty phrases pleased the Mule, it brought me a court dress, and a grand name ?for, see you, it was originally simply Bobo, one that pleases him not ?and then when my empty phrases pleased him not, it would bring upon my poor bones beatings and whippings."

Toran entered from the pilot room, "Nothing to do now but wait, Bay. I hope the Mule is capable of understanding that a Foundation ship is Foundation territory."

Magnifico Giganticus, once Bobo, opened his eyes wide and exclaimed, "How great is the Foundation before which even the cruel servants of the Mule tremble."

"Have you heard of the Foundation, too?" asked Bayta, with a little smile.

"And who has not?" Magnifico's voice was a mysterious whisper. "There are those who say it is a world of great magic, of fires that can consume planets, and secrets of mighty strength. They say that not the highest nobility of the Galaxy could achieve the honor and deference considered only the natural due of a simple man who could say 'I am a citizen of the Foundation,' ?were he only a salvage miner of space, or a nothing like myself."

Bayta said, "Now, Magnifico, you'll never finish if you make speeches. Here, I'll get you a little flavored milk. It's good."

She placed a pitcher of it upon the table and motioned Toran out of the room.

"Torie, what are we going to do now ?about him?" and she motioned towards the kitchen.

"How do you mean?"

"If the Mule comes, are we going to give him up?"

"Well, what else, Bay?" He sounded harassed, and the gesture with which he shoved back the moist curl upon his forehead testified to that.

He continued impatiently, "Before I came here I had a sort of vague idea that all we had to do was to ask for the Mule, and then get down to business ?just business, you know, nothing definite."

"I know what you mean, Torie. I wasn't much hoping to see the Mule myself, but I did think we could pick up some firsthand knowledge of the mess, and then pass it over to people who know a little more about this interstellar intrigue. I'm no storybook spy."

"You're not behind me, Bay." He folded his arms and frowned. "What a situation! You'd never know there was a person like the Mule, except for this last queer break. Do you suppose he'll come for his clown?"

Bayta looked up at him. "I don't know that I want him to. I don't know what to say or do. Do you?"

The inner buzzer sounded with its intermittent burring noise. Bayta's lips moved wordlessly, "The Mule!"

Magnifico was in the doorway, eyes wide, his voice a whimper, "The Mule?"

Toran murmured, "I've got to let them in."

A contact opened the air lock and the outer door closed behind the newcomer. The scanner showed only a single shadowed figure.

"It's only one person," said Toran, with open relief, and his voice was almost shaky as he bent toward the signal tube, "Who are you?"

"You'd better let me in and find out, hadn't you?" The words came thinly out the receiver.

"I'll inform you that this is a Foundation ship and consequently Foundation territory by international treaty."

"I know that." 

"Come with your arms free, or I'll shoot. I'm well-armed."

"Done!"

Toran opened the inner door and closed contact on his blast pistol, thumb hovering over the pressure point. There was the sound of footsteps and then the door swung open, and Magnifico cried out, "It's not the Mule. It's but a man."

The "man" bowed to the clown somberly, "Very accurate. I'm not the Mule." He held his hands apart, "I'm not armed, and I come on a peaceful errand. You might relax and put the blast pistol away. Your hand isn't steady enough for my peace of mind."

"Who are you?" asked Toran, brusquely.

"I might ask you that," said the stranger, coolly, "since you're the one under false pretenses, not I."

"How so?"

"You're the one who claims to be a Foundation citizen when there's not an authorized Trader on the planet."

"That's not so. How would you know?"

"Because I am a Foundation citizen, and have my papers to prove it. Where are yours?"

"I think you'd better get out."

"I think not. If you know anything about Foundation methods, and despite your imposture you might, you'd know that if I don't return alive to my ship at a specified time, there'll be a signal at the nearest Foundation headquarters so I doubt if your weapons will have much effect, practically speaking."

There was an irresolute silence and then Bayta said, calmly, "Put the blaster away, Toran, and take him at face value. He sounds like the real thing."

"Thank you," said the stranger.

Toran put his gun on the chair beside him, "Suppose you explain all this now."

The stranger remained standing. He was long of bone and large of limb. His face consisted of hard flat planes and it was somehow evident that he never smiled. But his eyes lacked hardness.

He said, "News travels quickly, especially when it is apparently beyond belief. I don't suppose there's a person on Kalgan who doesn't know that the Mule's men were kicked in the teeth today by two tourists from the Foundation. I knew of the important details before evening, and, as I said, there are no Foundation tourists aside from myself on the planet. We know about those things."

"Who are the 'we'?"

"'We' are ?'we'! Myself for one! I knew you were at the Hangar ?you had been overheard to say so. I had my ways of checking the registry, and my ways of finding the ship."

He turned to Bayta suddenly, "You're from the Foundation ?by birth, aren't you?"

"Am I?"

"You're a member of the democratic opposition ?they call it 'the underground.' I don't remember your name, but I do the face. You got out only recently ?and wouldn't have if you were more important."

Bayta shrugged, "You know a lot."

"I do. You escaped with a man. That one?"

"Does it matter what I say?"

"No. I merely want a thorough mutual understanding. I believe that the password during the week you left so hastily was 'Seldon, Hardin, and Freedom.' Porfirat Hart was your section leader. "

"Where'd you get that?" Bayta was suddenly fierce. "Did the police get him?" Toran held her back, but she shook herself loose and advanced.

The man from the Foundation said quietly, "Nobody has him. It's just that the underground spreads widely and in queer places. I'm Captain Han Pritcher of Information, and I'm a section leader myself ?never mind under what name."

He waited, then said, "No, you don't have to believe me. In our business it is better to overdo suspicion than the opposite. But I'd better get past the preliminaries."

"Yes," said Toran, "suppose you do."

"May I sit down? Thanks." Captain Pritcher swung a long leg across his knee and let an arm swing loose over the back of the chair. "I'll start out by saying that I don't know what all this is about ?from your angle. You two aren't from the Foundation, but it's not a hard guess that you're from one of the independent Trading worlds. That doesn't bother me overmuch. But out of curiosity, what do you want with that fellow, that clown you snatched to safety? You're risking your life to hold on to him."

"I can't tell you that."

"Hm-mmm. Well, I didn't think you would. But if you're waiting for the Mule himself to come behind a fanfarade of horns, drums, and electric organs ?relax! The Mule doesn't work that way."

"What?" It came from both Toran and Bayta, and in the comer where Magnifico lurked with ears almost visibly expanded, there was a sudden joyful start.

"That's right. I've been trying to contact him myself, and doing a rather more thorough job of it than you two amateurs can. It won't work. The man makes no personal appearance, does not allow himself to be photographed or simulated, and is seen only by his most intimate associates."

"Is that supposed to explain your interest in us, captain?" questioned Toran.

"No. That clown is the key. That clown is one of the very few that have seen him. I want him. He may be the proof I need ?and I need something, Galaxy knows ?to awaken the Foundation."

"It needs awakening?" broke in Bayta with sudden sharpness. "Against what? And in what role do you act as alarm, that of rebel democrat or of secret police and provocateur?"

The captain's face set in its hard lines. "When the entire Foundation is threatened, Madame Revolutionary, both democrats and tyrants perish. Let us save the tyrants from a greater, that we may overthrow them in their turn."

"Who's the greater tyrant you speak of?" flared Bayta.

"The Mule! I know a bit about him, enough to have been my death several times over already, if I had moved less nimbly. Send the clown out of the room. This will require privacy."

"Magnifico," said Bayta, with a gesture, and the clown left without a sound.

The captain's voice was grave and intense, and low enough so that Toran and Bayta drew close.

He said, "The Mule is a shrewd operator ?far too shrewd not to realize the advantage of the magnetism and glamour of personal leadership. If he gives that up, it's for a reason. That reason must be the fact that personal contact would reveal something that is of overwhelming importance not to reveal."

He waved aside questions, and continued more quickly, "I went back to his birthplace for this, and questioned people who for their knowledge will not live long. Few enough are still alive. They remember the baby born thirty years before ?the death of his mother ?his strange youth. The Mule is not a human being!"

And his two listeners drew back in horror at the misty implications. Neither understood, fully or clearly, but the menace of the phrase was definite.

The captain continued, "He is a mutant, and obviously from his subsequent career, a highly successful one. I don't know his powers or the exact extent to which he is what our thrillers would call a 'superman,' but the rise from nothing to the conqueror of Kalgan's warlord in two years is revealing. You see, don't you, the danger? Can a genetic accident of unpredictable biological properties be taken into account in the Seldon plan?"

Slowly, Bayta spoke, "I don't believe it. This is some sort of complicated trickery. Why didn't the Mule's men kill us when they could have, if he's a superman?"

"I told you that I don't know the extent of his mutation. He may not be ready, yet, for the Foundation, and it would be a sign of the greatest wisdom to resist provocation until ready. Now let me speak to the clown."

The captain faced the trembling Magnifico, who obviously distrusted this huge, hard man who faced him.

The captain began slowly, "Have you seen the Mule with your own eyes?"

"I have but too well, respected sir. And felt the weight of his arm with my own body as well."

"I have no doubt of that. Can you describe him?"

"It is frightening to recall him, respected sir. He is a man of mighty frame. Against him, even you would be but a spindling. His hair is of a burning crimson, and with all my strength and weight I could not pull down his arm, once extended ?not a hair's thickness." Magnifico's thinness seemed to collapse upon itself in a huddle of arms and legs. "Often, to amuse his generals or to amuse only himself, he would suspend me by one finger in my belt from a fearful height, while I chattered poetry. It was only after the twentieth verse that I was withdrawn, and each improvised and each a perfect rhyme, or else start over. He is a man of overpowering might, respected sir, and cruel in the use of his power ?and his eyes, respected sir, no one sees."

"What? What's that last?"

"He wears spectacles, respected sir, of a curious nature. It is said that they are opaque and that he sees by a powerful magic that far transcends human powers. I have heard," and his voice was small and mysterious, "that to see his eyes is to see death; that he kills with his eyes, respected sir."

Magnifico's eyes wheeled quickly from one watching face to another. He quavered, "It is true. As I live, it is true. "

Bayta drew a long breath, "Sounds like you're right, captain. Do you want to take over?"

"Well, let's look at the situation. You don't owe anything here? The hangar's barrier above is free?"

"I can leave any time."

"Then leave. The Mule may not wish to antagonize the Foundation, but he runs a frightful risk in letting Magnifico get away. It probably accounts for the hue and cry after the poor devil in the first place. So there may be ships waiting for you upstairs. If you're lost in space, who's to pin the crime?"

"You're right," agreed Toran, bleakly.

"However, you've got a shield and you're probably speedier than anything they've got, so as soon as you're clear of the atmosphere make the circle in neutral to the other hemisphere, then just cut a track outwards at top acceleration."

"Yes," said Bayta coldly, "and when we are back on the Foundation, what then, captain?"

"Why, you are then co-operative citizens of Kalgan, are you not? I know nothing to the contrary, do I?"

Nothing was said. Toran turned to the controls. There was an imperceptible lurch.

It was when Toran had left Kalgan sufficiently far in the rear to attempt his first interstellar jump, that Captain Pritcher's face first creased slightly ?for no ship of the Mule had in any way attempted to bar their leaving.

"Looks like he's letting us carry off Magnifico," said Toran. "Not so good for your story."

"Unless," corrected the captain, "he wants us to carry him off, in which case it's not so good for the Foundation."

It was after the last jump, when within neutral-flight distance of the Foundation, that the first hyperwave news broadcast reached the ship.

And there was one news item barely mentioned. It seemed that a warlord ?unidentified by the bored speaker ?had made representations to the Foundation concerning the forceful abduction of a member of his court. The announcer went on to the sports news.

Captain Pritcher said icily, "He's one step ahead of us after all." Thoughtfully, he added, "He's ready for the Foundation, and he uses this as an excuse for action. It makes things more difficult for us. We will have to act before we are really ready."
第十四章 突变异种
　　卡尔根的“船库”是这个世界一种特殊的机构，为了安置无数观光客驾来的太空船，以及提供大量观光客住宿的场所，这种船库因此应运而生。最早想到这个解决之道的聪明人，很快就变成了大富翁，而他的子孙与事业的接班人，则轻易就跻身于卡尔根的首富之列。
一个船库通常占地都有数平方哩，而“船库”这个名词根本不足以形容它的功能。它实际上是一个太空船的旅馆，船主只要先付清费用，就可以得到一个停泊太空船的场所，并能随时从该处直接起飞升空。乘客可以如常地住在太空船中，船库并提供普通旅馆的一切服务，例如各式食物与医疗补给都价廉物美。当然，船库还负责为太空船做简单的维修，并且安排卡尔根境内的廉价交通服务。
臂光客因此可以省下一笔开销，只要付出船库的费用，就同时能够享受旅馆的服务。船库的东家光靠出租空地，便可以获得很大的利润，政府也能从中抽取巨额税金。这样，每一个人都皆大欢喜，根本没有人吃亏，就是这么简单！
在某一个船库里，连接许多侧翼的宽大回廊中，一名男子正沿着阴暗的边缘向前走。他以前也曾经思考过这种船库的新奇与实用性，可是那些只是没事的时候冒出来的念头，在这个节骨眼绝对不合时宜。
在划分得整整齐齐的隔间中，停驻着一艘艘又高又大的太空船。这个人一排排地走过去，全都没有再看第二眼。现在所进行的工作是他最拿手的——根据他事先在登记处所做的调查，他只知道该到一个停了好几百艘太空船的侧翼去，除此之外，他并没有得到更详细的资料。然而专业知识却足以帮助他，让他从数百艘太空船中过滤出真正的目标。
他终于停下脚步，转身走进其中的一排隔间。在肃静的船库中，好像传出了一声叹息。他仿佛是处身于无数金属巨兽间的一只昆虫，简直一点也不起眼。
在他身边的太空船，有一些从舷窗中透出光后，代表太空船的主人已经提早归来。他们结束了当天的观光活动，开始了更单纯、更私人性的娱乐。
那人停下了脚步，如果他懂得微笑的话，现在一定会露出笑容。当然，他大脑中“脑回”目前的运作，就等于是常人所做的微笑。
现在他面前的这艘太空船，船身反映着耀眼的金属光泽，并且显然速度快绝，这种特殊的造型正是他所要寻找的。它与普通的太空船外表很不一样——虽然最近这些年来，在这个银河象限中的大多数太空船，如果不是仿照基地的型式设计，就是由基地来的技师所制造的。可是这艘太空船仍旧十分特别，它是一艘货真价实的基地太空船——船身表面许多微小的凸起，是基地太空船特有的防护幕发射器，此外还有其他一些特征，在在证明他的判断绝对没错。
他一点都没有犹豫。
船库的经营者顺应客人的要求，在每一艘太空船的周围加设了电子栅栏，以便保障客人的隐私。不过这种东西绝对难不倒他，他利用随身携带的一种非常特殊的中和力场，根本没有触动警铃，便轻而易举地将栅栏解除。
直到那人的手掌按到主气闸旁的光电管，才触动了太空船起居舱中的蜂鸣器，响起了一阵轻微的讯号，算是这艘太空船发出的第一个警告。
当那人继续前进搜索时，杜伦与贝妲正在“贝妲号”的装甲舱房中，完全不晓得他们自以为安全的地方，其实一点也不安全。在厨舱兼食物贮藏室里，骡的那位小丑正趴在餐桌上，狼吞虎咽着面前的食物。
他那双忧郁的褐色眼睛一直没有离开过食物，只有在贝妲走动的时候，才会抬起头来看看她。
这时，他们对这个小丑已经了解得更多了。虽然他的身材瘦弱不堪，却拥有一个极具气派的名字——高头大马巨擘。“一个弱者的感激实在微不足道，”他喃喃地说道：“但是我仍然要献给您。说真的，过去一个星期以来，几乎没有什么东西进到我的肚子里。尽避我的个头很小，胃口却大得简直不成比例。”
“既然这样，那么就好好吃吧！”贝妲微笑着说：“别净顾着说什么感激了。银河核心好像有一句关于感激的谚语，我记得曾经听说过，有没有？”
“的确有这么一句话，我亲爱的女士。我听说，有一位贤者曾经讲过：‘不流于空谈的感激，才是最好最实际的。’可是啊，我亲爱的女士，我似乎除了会耍耍嘴皮子之外，其他什么都不会。当我的空谈取悦了骡的时候，就为我赢得一件宫廷礼服，还有这个威武的名字——因为，您可知道，我本来只是叫作宝宝，不过他却不喜欢宝宝这个名字。然而，当我的空言无法取悦他的时候，可怜的皮肉就会被拳打脚踢，还得挨鞭子呢。”
此时杜伦从驾驶舱走了进来，对贝妲说：“贝，我们现在除了等待之外，什么也不能做。我希望骡能够了解，基地的航具就等于是基地的领土。”
本来叫作宝宝，现在全名高头大马巨擘的马巨擘，这时候突然张大了眼睛，高声喊道：“基地可真是了不起，甚趾蟋骡的那些凶残的手下，面对基地也会不自禁地颤栗。”
“你也听说过基地吗？”贝妲带着一丝笑意问道。
“谁没有听说过呢？”马巨擘压低了声音，神秘兮兮地说：“有人说，那是一个充满魔术师的伟大世界，它能喷出足以吞噬一个行星的火焰，还拥有神秘的强大力量。大家都说，任何人只要声称‘我是基地的公民’，那么不论他是太空中的穷矿工也好，像我这般微不足道的小人物也罢，都会让人立刻肃然起敬。即使是银河中最尊贵的贵族，也无法赢得这般的光荣和尊敬。”
贝妲说：“好啦，马巨擘，如果你继续演讲的话，就永远吃不完这一顿。来，我帮你拿一点调味奶，很好喝的。”
说着她就拿了一壶放到餐桌上，并且示意杜伦到另一间舱房去。
“杜，我们现在要拿他怎么办？”她指了指厨舱。
“你这话是什么意思？”
“如果骡来了的话，我们是不是要将他交出去？”
杜伦的口气听来很烦恼：“这个嘛，我们还有什么别的办法，贝？”他将一束垂在前额的潮湿卷发拨开，这个动作更证明了他的确心烦气躁。
然后他不耐烦地继续说：“在我来到此地之前，我只有一个很模糊的概念——我们唯一需要做的就是打听骡的消息，然后就可以好好度假，就是如此而已，你知道吗？根本没有什么明确的计划。”
“我知道你的意思，杜，我自己也没有奢望能看到骡。可是我却认为，我们可以搜集到一些第一手的资料，然后再将这些资料，转交给对于星际现势较有研究的人，我可不是故事书中的那些间谍。”
“我还不是一样，贝。”他双手抱在胸前，皱着眉头说：“真是一团糟！如果不是最后这个诡异的机会，我们根本不能确定有骡这号人物。你认为他会来要回这个小丑吗？”
贝妲抬起头来看着他：“我不知道自己是不是希望他会来，我也不知道该说些什么或做些什么，你呢？”
舱内的蜂鸣器突然发出断断续续的隆隆声，贝妲做了一个“骡”的嘴形，不过并没有发出任何声音。
马巨擘此时正在门口，眼睛张得老大，呜咽着说：“骡？”
杜伦喃喃地道：“我必须让他们进来。”他按动了一个开关，将气闸打开，同时将外门关上。这时，他们看到扫瞄仪上只显示出一个身影。
“只有一个人而已。”杜伦似乎放心了一点。然后他俯身对着传声管说：“你是谁？”他的声音几乎有些发颤。
“你最好让我进去，自己看个明白，对吧？”收讯器中传来了那人的回答，声音听来十分微弱。
“我先告诉你，这是一艘基地的太空船。根据国际公约，它是基地领土的一部分。”
“这一点我知道。”
“放下你的武器再进来，否则我就开枪，我可是有武器的。”
“没问题！”
杜伦将内门打开，同时开启了手铳的保险，大拇指轻轻摆在掣钮上。不久传来一阵脚步声，接着舱门就被推开了，马巨擘突然叫道：“不是骡，是一个人！”
那个“人”向小丑一欠身，以阴沉的口气说：“非常正确，我不是骡。”
他又将双手摊开来，对杜伦说：“我没带武器，我是为一个和平的目的而来。你可以放轻松一点，把你的手铳摆到旁边去。你可以看出我完全没有暴戾之气。而你现在这个样子，实在不是待客之道。”
“你究竟是谁？”杜伦直截了当地问。
“这个问题应该由我来问你。”那人泰然自若地说：“因为，假冒身分的人是你，而不是我。”
“这话怎么说？”
“你自称是基地的公民，可是在卡尔根这个行星上，现在只有一个合法的基地观光客。”
“哪有这回事？你又是怎么知道的？”
“因为我才是基地的公民，我有文件可以证明，你呢？”
“你最好给我滚出去。”
“我可不这么想。如果你知道基地的行事方法——虽然你是个冒牌货，但是我想你可能也知道——如果我在约定的时间内，没有活着回到我的太空船，离这里最近的基地司令部就会收到讯号。所以说句老实话，我很怀疑你的武器有什么用。”
杜伦一时间不知如何是好。一阵短暂的静默之后，贝妲以镇定的口气说：“把手铳拿开，杜伦，相信他的话，他说的听来都是事实。”
“谢谢你。”陌生人对贝妲说。
杜伦把手镜放在身旁的椅子上，然后说：“请你好好解释一下这一切。”
陌生人仍然站在原处。他的身材高大，手长脚长，脸孔由许多紧绷的平面所构成。有一点似乎很明显，那就是他从来不曾露出过笑容，不过他的眼神看来并不凌厉。
他说：“消息总是传得很快，尤其是那些显然教人难以置信的消息。如今在卡尔根，我想没有一个人不知道，骡的手下今天被两个基地来的观光客羞辱了一番。而我在傍晚之前，就已经获悉了重要的详情。正如我所说的，这个行星上除了我以外，再也没有其他的基地观光客，我们对这些事情都非常清楚。”
“‘我们’又是些什么人？”
“‘我们’就是……‘我们’！至少我自己是其中之一。我晓得你们会回到船库来——有人偷听到了你们的谈话。我自有办法查看登记处的资料，也自有办法找到你们的太空船。”
他突然转身面向贝妲：“你是基地人——土生土长的，对不对？”
“是吗？”
“你加入了民主反动派——就是所谓的‘地下组织’。我不记得你的名字，但是你的容貌我记得很清楚。你是最近才离开基地的——如果你的地位更重要一点，你根本就走不了。”
贝妲耸耸肩：“你知道的还真不少。”
“的确如此，你是跟一个男人一块逃走的，就是这一位？”
“你简直是明知故问，我难道还需要回答吗？”
“不用，我只是希望彼此好好了解一番。我相信，你匆匆离境的那个星期，你们约定的暗语是‘谢顿，哈定，自由’，波菲莱特•哈特是你的小组长。”
“你是怎么知道的？”贝妲突然凶狠地吼道：“他被警察逮捕了吗？”杜伦赶紧把她拉住，但是她却挣脱开，继续向那人逼进。
那个基地来的人沉稳地说：“没有人抓他，只是因为地下组织分布甚广又无孔不入，所以我很容易就打听出来了。我是情报局的汉•普利吉上尉，是一个小组的领导人——你不用管是什么小组。”
他顿了一顿，又继续说：“不，我不勉强你相信我。干我们这一行的，就是需要一天到晚疑神疑鬼，凡事最好都在不疑处有疑，而不能在有疑处不疑。不过我想，开场白最好到此为止。”
“没错，”杜伦说：“请你言归正传吧。”
“我可以坐下吗？谢谢。”普利吉上尉坐了下来，翘起长长的左腿，还把右臂垂到椅背后面来回地摇蔽。
“首先我要作一项声明，我实在不晓得这到底是怎么一回事——我是说从你们的角度而言。你们两位不是直接从基地来的，但是我却不难猜到，你们来自某个独立行商的世界，这一点我其实并不怎么关心。但是出于好奇心，我想问问你们，你们准备拿这个家伙怎么办？我是指你们救出来的这个小丑，你们留着他等于在拿生命开玩笑。”
“这一点无可奉告。”
“哼——没关系，我也没指望你们会告诉我。但是如果你们是在等骡来找你们，以为还会有号角、锣鼓、电子琴组成的大乐队，一路敲敲打打为他开道——放心吧！骡绝不会这么做的。”
“什么？”杜伦与贝妲异口同声喊了出来。马巨擘躲在舱房一角，他的耳朵几乎竖了起来。
“没错，我自己也在试图跟骡接触。而我所用的方法，比你们两位玩票的更完善、更有效，可是我也没有成功。这个人根本不肯露面，也不允许任何人为他摄影或拟像，只有他最亲近的亲信，才有办法见到他本人。”
“上尉，这是否能解释你为什么会对我们有兴趣？”杜伦问道。
“不，那个小丑才是真正的关键。小丑是极少数见过骡的人之一，所以我想要他。他也许就是我所需要的佐证。我必须要有点什么东西，才能将基地唤醒。”
“基地需要唤醒吗？”贝妲突然尖声插嘴道：“为了什么？你这个警钟到底是为谁敲响的——反叛的民主分子？还是秘密警察和煽动者？”
上尉紧紧皱起眉头：“女革命家，当基地受到威胁的时候，民主分子和独裁者都会被消灭。让我们先联合基地的独裁者，打败那个更大的独裁者，然后再把那些独裁者推翻。”
“你所说的更大的独裁者是什么人？”贝妲怒气冲冲地问。
“就是骡！我对他的底细知道一些，如果不是我机警过人的话，早就不知道死了多少次啦。你们让小丑回避一下，我需要单独跟你们谈谈。”
“马巨擘——”贝妲一面喊，一面对他做个手势，小丑便不声不响地离开了。
于是上尉开始了他的陈述，口气既严肃又激动。不过他将声音压得很低，杜伦与贝妲必须靠得很近才听得见。
他说：“骡是一个极为精明的人物——他不可能不知道，个人领导能够产生多大的魅力与魔力，对于他的统治会有多大的益处。如果他竟然放弃了这个做法，那么只有一个理由，就是他不愿意与人群直接接触，因为那样会泄露了绝对不可泄露的重大秘密。”
他做了一个不要发问的手势，话说得更快：“为了追查这个秘密，我特别走访了他的出生地，在那里我询问过一些人。对他的事情略有所知的人，只有少数几个还活着，不过也一定都活不了多久了。他们记得那个婴儿是在三十年前出生的——他的母亲难产而死，还有他早年的种种奇事——骡根本就不是人类！”
听到这话的两个人，不禁被其中模糊的含意吓得倒退一步。这句话到底是什么意思，他们两人并不明白，但是他们都感觉出了其中的威胁。
上尉继续说下去：“他是一个突变种——根据他后来的成就，显然是一个极度优异的突变种。我还不晓得他有多大的能耐，也不确定他的突变究竟到了什么程度——是不是就像我们的惊险影集中所谓的‘超人’。但是他崛起至今只有两年，就从一个无名小卒变成如今的卡尔根统领，这就足以说明一切。你们看不出其中的危险性吗？这种无法预料的生物基因突变，难道也会包括在谢顿计划之中？”
贝妲缓缓答道：“我不相信有这种事，这只是一种高明的骗术。如果骡真的是一个超人，他的手下为什么不当场杀了我们？”
“我刚刚已经说过，我不知道他的突变究竟到了什么程度。他也许还没有准备好对付基地，目前他能忍受这种挑衅，就显示他很老谋深算。现在，我想跟小丑谈一谈。”
面对着上尉，马巨擘拼命地发抖，他显然对面前这个高大强壮的人十分畏惧。
上尉开始慢慢问道：“你曾经亲眼见过骡吗？”
“尊贵的先生，我何止见过，简直看过了头。而且，我还用我自己的身子，体会过他臂膀的重量呢。”
“我不怀疑这一点。你能不能形容他一下？”
“尊贵的先生，我一想到他就会怕怕。他是一个强壮威武的人，跟他比起来，就连您也只能算是细瘦苗条。他的头发是一团火红，而他的膀子一旦伸直了，我使尽吃奶的力气，再加上全身的重量，也没法子往下拉动一根汗毛的距离。”


马巨擘瘦小的躯体缩了起来，似乎只剩下了一堆肢体。他继续说：“常常，为了要娱乐他的那些将军，或者只是他自己寻开心，他会用一根手指头勾住我的裤腰带，把我提到吓人的高度，然后叫我开始吟诗。直到我吟到第二十节，才肯将我放下来——这些诗必须都是我的即兴之作，而且全部要押韵，否则还得重新来过。尊贵的先生，他的气力天下无双，总是以凶残无比的方式对付他人——还有他的眼睛，尊贵的先生，从来没有人见过。”
“什么？你最后说的那一句是什么？”
“他总是戴着一副眼镜，尊贵的先生，那是一副式样古怪之极的眼镜。据说镜片是不透明的，他看东西不像常人那样需要眼睛，而是用一种威力无比的魔力。我还听说——”他的声音突然压低，用充满神秘的口气道：“看到他的眼睛就等于死定了，他可以用眼睛来杀人，尊贵的先生。”
马巨擘的眼珠飞快转动，轮流环视瞪着他的三个人。然后他又颤声说道：“这是真的，我敢发誓，这是真的。”
贝妲深深吸了口气：“看来你说对了，上尉，你要不要帮我们做个决定？”
“好，我们来研究一下目前的情况。你们的费用都缴清了？船库上方的栅栏是开着的吧？”
“我随时都可以离开。”
“那么赶快走。骡也许还不想和基地作对，但是如果让马巨擘逃走了，对他而言可是很大的危险。这也许就能解释，当初他们为什么要如此大费周章地追捕这个可怜虫。所以上面可能会有星舰在等着你们——如果你们在太空中消失了，有谁能逮得到元凶呢？”
“你说得很对。”杜伦垂头丧气地表示同意。
“不过，你们的太空船具有防护幕，它的速度也可能比此地任何的船舰更快。你离开大气层之后，立刻关闭发动机，绕到对面的半球去，然后再用最大的加速度冲入航道。”
“这没有问题。”贝妲冷静地回答：“但是当我们回到基地之后，上尉，我们又该怎么办呢？”
“简单。就说你们是心向基地的卡尔根公民，如何？我对这一点毫不怀疑，对吧？”
没有人接话，杜伦转身走向控制台。太空船突然稍微倾向一侧。
当杜伦驾着太空船，绕到卡尔根的另一边，然后又航行足够远的距离之后，他才试图进行首度的星际跃迁。直到此时，普利吉上尉的眉头终于稍微舒展一点——因为一路上，都没有任何骡的船舰试图拦截他们。
“看来他是默许我们带走马巨擘了，”杜伦说：“你的推论好像出了问题。”
“除非，”上尉纠正他的话：“他是故意要让我们带走他的。如果是这样，基地就要出问题了。”
在完成最后一次跃迁之后，太空船已经很接近基地，只剩下最后一段无推力飞行。此时，他们接收到了来自基地的超波新闻。
其中有一条并不起眼的新闻，似乎是某个统领——兴趣缺缺的播报员并没有指明——向基地提出抗议，指责基地派人强行绑架他的一名廷臣。播报员很快就报完了，随即开始报导体育新闻。
“他毕竟抢先了我们一步。”普利吉上尉用冷淡的口气说，然后又若有所思地补充道：“他已经准备好要对付基地，正好利用这件事当作开战的藉口。这会使我们的处境更加困难。尽避还没有准备好，我们也将被迫提早行动。”
15. THE PSYCHOLOGIST


There was reason to the fact that the element known as "pure science" was the freest form of life on the Foundation. In a Galaxy where the predominance ?and even survival ?of the Foundation still rested upon the superiority of its technology ?even despite its large access of physical power in the last century and a half ?a certain immunity adhered to The Scientist. He was needed, and he knew it.

Likewise, there was reason to the fact that Ebling Mis ?only those who did not know him added his titles to his name ?was the freest form of life in the "pure science" of the Foundation. In a world where science was respected, he was The Scientist ?with capital letters and no smile. He was needed, and he knew it.

And so it happened, that when others bent their knee, he refused and added loudly that his ancestors in their time bowed no knee to any stinking mayor. And in his ancestors' time the mayor was elected anyhow, and kicked out at will, and that the only people that inherited anything by right of birth were the congenital idiots.

So it also happened, that when Ebling Mis decided to allow Indbur to honor him with an audience, he did not wait for the usual rigid line of command to pass his request up and the favored reply down, but, having thrown the less disreputable of his two formal jackets over his shoulders and pounded an odd hat of impossible design onnnne side of his head, and lit a forbidden cigar into the bargain, he barged past two ineffectually bleating guards and into the mayor's palace.

The first notice his excellence received of the intrusion was when from his garden he heard the gradually nearing uproar of expostulation and the answering bull-roar of inarticulate swearing.

Slowly, Indbur lay down his trowel; slowly, he stood up; and slowly, he frowned. For Indbur allowed himself a daily vacation from work, and for two hours in the early afternoon, weather permitting, he was in his garden. There in his garden, the blooms grew in squares and triangles, interlaced in a severe order of red and yellow, with little dashes of violet at the apices, and greenery bordering the whole in rigid lines. There in his garden no nne disturbed him ?no nne!

Indbur peeled off his soil-stained gloves as he advanced toward the little garden door.

Inevitably, he said, "What is the meaning of this?"

It is the precise question and the precise wording thereof that has been put to the atmosphere on such occasions by an incredible variety of men since humanity was invented. It is not recorded that it has ever been asked for any purpose other than dignified effect.

But the answer was literal this time, for Mis's body came plunging through with a bellow, and a shake of a fist at the nnes who were still holding tatters of his cloak.

Indbur motinned them away with a solemn, displeased frown, and Mis bent to pick up his ruin of a hat, shake about a quarter of the gathered dirt off it, thrust it under his armpit and say:

"Look here, Indbur, those unprintable minions of yours will be charged for nne good cloak. Lots of good wear left in this cloak." He puffed and wiped his forehead with just a trace of theatricality.

The mayor stood stiff with displeasure, and said haughtily from the peak of his five-foot-two, "It has not been brought to my attention, Mis, that you have requested an audience. You have certainly not been assigned nne."

Ebling Mis looked down at his mayor with what was apparently shocked disbelief, "Ga-LAX-y, Indbur, didn't you get my note yesterday? I handed it to a flunky in purple uniform day before. I would have handed it to you direct, but I know how you like formality."

"Formality!" Indbur turned up exasperated eyes. Then, strenuously, "Have you ever heard of proper organization? At all future times you are to submit your request for an audience, properly made out in triplicate, at the government office intended for the purpose. You are then to wait until the nrdinary course of events brings you notification of the time of audience to be granted. You are then to appear, properly clothed ?properly clothed, do you understand ?and with proper respect, too. You may leave."

"What's wrong with my clothes?" demanded Mis, hotly. "Best cloak I had till those unprintable fiends got their claws on it. I'll leave just as soon as I deliver what I came to deliver. "Ga-LAX-y, if it didn't involve a Seldon Crisis, I would leave right now."

"Seldon crisis!" Indbur exhibited first interest. Mis was a great psychologist ?a democrat, boor, and rebel certainly, but a psychologist, too. In his uncertainty, the mayor even failed to put into words the inner pang that stabbed suddenly when Mis plucked a casual bloom, held it to his nostrils expectantly, then flipped it away with a wrinkled nose.

Indbur said coldly, "Would you follow me? This garden wasn't made for serious conversation."

He felt better in his built-up chair behind his large desk from which he could look down on the few hairs that quite ineffectually hid Mis's pink scalp-skin. He felt much better when Mis cast a series of automatic glances about him for a non-existent chair and then remained standing in uneasy shifting fashion. He felt best of all when in response to a careful pressure of the correct contact, a liveried underling scurried in, bowed his way to the desk, and laid thereon a bulky, metal-bound volume.

"Now, in order," said Indbur, once more master of the situation, "to make this unauthorized interview as short as possible, make your statement in the fewest possible words."

Ebling Mis said unhurriedly, "You know what I'm doing these days?"

"I have your reports here," replied the mayor, with satisfaction, "together with authorized summaries of them. As I understand it, your investigations into the mathematics of psychohistory have been intended to duplicate Hari Seldon's work and, eventually, trace the projected course of future history, for the use of the Foundation."

"Exactly," said Mis, dryly. "When Seldon first established the Foundation, he was wise enough to include no psychologists among the scientists placed here ?so that the Foundation has always worked blindly along the course of historical necessity. In the course of my researches, I have based a good deal upon hints found at the Time Vault."

"I am aware of that, Mis. It is a waste of time to repeat."

"I'm not repeating," blared Mis, "because what I'm going to tell you isn't in any of those reports."

"How do you mean, not in the reports?" said Indbur, stupidly. "How could?

"Ga-LAX-y, Let me tell this my own way, you offensive little creature. Stop putting words into my mouth and questioning my every statement or I'll tramp out of here and let everything crumble around you. Remember, you unprintable fool, the Foundation will come through because it must, but if I walk out of here now ?you won't."

Dashing his hat on the floor, so that clods of earth scattered, he sprang up the stairs of the dais on which the wide desk stood and shoving papers violently, sat down upon a comer of it.

Indbur thought frantically of summoning the guard, or using the built-in blasters of his desk. But Mis's face was glaring down upon him and there was nothing to do but cringe the best face upon it.

"Dr. Mis," he began, with weak formality, "you must?

"Shut up," said Mis, ferociously, "and listen. If this thing here," and his palm came down heavily on the metal of the bound data, "is a mess of my reports ?throw it out. Any report I write goes up through some twenty-odd officials, gets to you, and then sort of winds down through twenty more. That's fine if there's nothing you don't want kept secret. Well, I've got something confidential here. It's so confidential, even the boys working for me haven't got wind of it. They did the work, of course, but each just a little unconnected piece ?and I put it together. You know what the Time Vault is?"

Indbur nodded his head, but Mis went on with loud enjoyment of the situation, "Well, I'll tell you anyhow because I've been sort of imagining this unprintable situation for a "Ga-LAX-y, of a long time; I can read your mind, you puny fraud. You've got your hand right near a little knob that'll call in about five hundred or so armed men to finish me off, but you're afraid of what I know ?you're afraid of a Seldon Crisis. Besides which, if you touch anything on your desk, I'll knock your unprintable head off before anyone gets here. You and your bandit father and pirate grandfather have been blood-sucking the Foundation long enough anyway."

"This is treason," gabbled Indbur.

"It certainly is," gloated Mis, "but what are you going to do about it? Let me tell you about the Time Vault. That Time Vault is what Hari Seldon placed here at the beginning to help us over the rough spots. For every crisis, Seldon has prepared a personal simulacrum to help ?and explain. Four crises so far ?four appearances. The first time he appeared at the height of the first crisis. The second time, he appeared at the moment just after the successful evolution of the second crisis. Our ancestors were there to listen to him both times. At the third and fourth crises, he was ignored ?probably because he was not needed, but recent investigations ?not included in those reports you have ?indicate that he appeared anyway, and at the proper times. Get it?"

He did not wait for any answer. His cigar, a tattered, dead ruin was finally disposed of, a new cigar groped for, and lit. The smoke puffed out violently.

He said, "Officially I've been trying to rebuild the science of psychohistory. Well, no one man is going to do that, and it won't get done in any one century, either. But I've made advances in the more simple elements and I've been able to use it as an excuse to meddle with the Time Vault. What I have done, involves the determination, to a pretty fair kind of certainty, of the exact date of the next appearance of Hari Seldon. I can give you the exact day, in other words, that the coming Seldon Crisis, the fifth, will reach its climax. "

"How far off?" demanded Indbur, tensely.

And Mis exploded his bomb with cheerful nonchalance,

"Four months," he said. "Four unprintable months, less two days."

"Four months," said Indbur, with uncharacteristic vehemence. "Impossible."

"Impossible, my unprintable eye."

"Four months? Do you understand what that means? For a crisis to come to a head in four months would mean that it has been preparing for years."

"And why not? Is there a law of Nature that requires the process to mature in the full light of day?"

"But nothing impends. Nothing hangs over us." Indbur almost wrung his hands for anxiety. With a sudden spasmodic recrudescence of ferocity, he screamed, "Will you get off my desk and let me put it in order? How do you expect me to think?"

Mis, startled, lifted heavily and moved aside.

Indbur replaced objects in their appropriate niches with a feverish motion. He was speaking quickly, "You have no right to come here like this. If you had presented your theory?

"It is not a theory."

"I say it is a theory. If you had presented it together with your evidence and arguments, in appropriate fashion, it would have gone to the Bureau of Historical Sciences. There it could have been properly treated, the resulting analyses submitted to me, and then, of course, proper action would have been taken. As it is, you've vexed me to no purpose. Ah, here it is."

He had a sheet of transparent, silvery paper in his hand which he shook at the bulbous psychologist beside him.

"This is a short summary I prepare myself ?weekly ?of foreign matters in progress. Listen ?we have completed negotiations for a commercial treaty with Mores, continue negotiations for one with Lyonesse, sent a delegation to some celebration or other on Bonde, received some complaint or other from Kalgan and we've promised to look into it, protested some sharp trade practices in Asperta and they've promised to look into it ?and so on and so on." The mayor's eyes swarmed down the list of coded notations, and then he carefully placed the sheet in its proper place in the proper folder in the proper pigeonhole.

I tell you, Mis, there's not a thing there that breathes anything but order and peace?

The door at the far, long end opened, and, in far too dramatically coincident a fashion to suggest anything but real life, a plainly-costumed notable stepped in.

Indbur half-rose. He had the curiously swirling sensation of unreality that comes upon those days when too much happens. After Mis's intrusion and wild fumings there now came the equally improper, hence disturbing, intrusion unannounced, of his secretary, who at least knew the rules.

The secretary kneeled low.

Indbur said, sharply, "Well!"

The secretary addressed the floor, "Excellence, Captain Han Pritcher of Information, returning from Kalgan, in disobedience to your orders, has according to prior instructions ?your order X20-513 ?been imprisoned, and awaits execution. Those accompanying him are being held for questioning. A full report has been filed."

Indbur, in agony, said, "A full report has been received. Well!"

"Excellence, Captain Pritcher has reported, vaguely, dangerous designs on the part of the new warlord of Kalgan. He has been given, according to prior instructions ?your order X20-651 ?no formal hearing, but his remarks have been recorded and a full report filed."

Indbur screamed, "A full report has been received. Well!"

"Excellence, reports have within the quarter-hour been received from the Salinnian frontier. Ships identified as Kalganian have been entering Foundation territory, unauthorized. The ships are armed. Fighting has occurred."

The secretary was bent nearly double. Indbur remained standing. Ebling Mis shook himself, clumped up to the secretary, and tapped him sharply on the shoulder.

"Here, you'd better have them release this Captain Pritcher, and have him sent here. Get out."

The secretary left, and Mis turned to the mayor, "Hadn't you better get the machinery moving, Indbur? Four months, you know."

Indbur remained standing, glaze-eyed. Only one finger seemed alive ?and it traced rapid jerky triangles on the smooth desk top before him.
第十五章 心理学家
　　在基地中最自由的生活方式，莫过于从事所谓“纯科学”的研究，这个事实其来有自。虽然在过去的一个半世纪中，基地获取了大量的有形资源，然而想要在银河中称霸，甚至即使仅为了生存，基地所仰赖的仍旧是高人一等的优越科技。“科学家”因此拥有不少特权；基地需要科学家，而他们自己也很明白这一点。
而在基地所有的“纯科学”工作者中，艾布林•米斯——只有不认识他的人，才会在他的名字上加上任何头衔——他的生活方式又比其他人更为自由。在这个分外尊重科学的世界上，他就是“科学家”——这是一个堂皇而严肃的职业，基地需要他，而他自己也很明白这一点。
因此，当其他人对市长下跪行礼时，他总是拒绝从命。非但如此，他还大声疾呼在过去的时代，他的先人从来不曾对任何混蛋市长屈膝。而且在那个时代，市长无论如何也是人民选出来的，不满意的话随时可以叫他们滚蛋。他还常常强调，一生下来就能继承的东西其实只有一样，那就是先天性的白痴。
因此当艾布林•米斯决定要让茵德布尔召见他的时候，他并没有依循正式的晋见申请手续，将他的申请书一级级向上呈递，然后再静候市长的恩准一级级发下来。他只是从仅有的两件礼服中，挑出比较不邋遢的一件披在肩上，再将一顶式样古怪至极的帽子，歪戴在脑袋一侧。更有甚者，他还衔着一根市长绝对禁止的雪茄，然后毫不理缓蠼名警卫的高声喝斥，就旁若无人地闯进了市长的官邸。
市长当时正在花园中，突然听到越来越接近的喧扰，其中有警告制止的吼叫声，还有含糊不清的粗声咒骂，才知道竟然有人闯了进来。
茵德布尔缓缓放下手中的小铲子，缓缓地站起身来，又缓缓地皱起了眉头。茵德布尔允许自己在日理万机之余，每天仍有一段休闲的时间——通常是在午后的两个小时。只要天气许可的话，他都会待在花园中。
在他精心规划的花园里，花圃都垦裁成三角形或长方形，其中红花与白花规律地交错着。在每一块花圃的顶点，还点缀着几朵紫色的花，花园四周则是整整齐齐的绿地。在他的花园里，他不准许任何人打搅——任何人都不准打搅！
茵德布尔一面走向小报园的门口，一面摘下了沾满泥巴的手套。
他不可避免地问了一句：“这到底是怎么回事？”
自从人类出现以来，在无数个类似如今的场合，这一句问话——一字不差——曾经从各式各样的人口中吐出来过。可是从来没有任何记载显示，这句问话除了显现威风之外，还能有什么其他的目的或用途。
然而这一回，茵德布尔却得到了一个具体的答案。因为此时米斯的身体正好挟着咆哮向前冲来，两名警卫则一边一个，紧紧抓住他身上被撕烂的礼服。米斯一面跑一面骂，还一面不断地拼命挥着拳头，对那两名警卫左右开弓。
茵德布尔一本正经，满脸不悦地皱着眉头，示意两名警卫退下。米斯这才弯下腰来，捡起烂成一团的帽子，抖掉将近一袋的泥土，再将帽子塞在腋下，然后开口说：“你看看，茵德布尔，你那些XXX的奴才要赔我一件好礼服，这一件我本来还可以好好穿很久呢。”他喘着气，用夸张的动作抹了抹额头上的汗水。
市长满肚子不高兴，五尺二寸的身子僵直站在那里，以傲慢的口气说道：“你艾布林•米斯低头看着市长，显然是不敢相信他所听到的话。他回答道：“老天——啊！茵德布尔，难道你昨天没有收到我的便条吗？我前天交给一个穿紫色制服的仆佣。本来我应该直接拿给你的，可是我知道你是多么喜欢形式。”
“形式！”茵德布尔扬起充满怒意的眼睛，激动地说：“你听说过什么是优良的组织管理吗？今后不论什么时候，你想要来晋见我，都应该先准备好一式三份的申请书，交给专门承办这项事务的政府机关。然后你再乖乖地等着，等到公文循正常的管道批下来，就会通知你批准的晋见日期和时间。到时候你才能出现，还别忘了要穿着合宜的服装——合宜的服装，你懂吗？并且要表现出应有的尊重。现在你可以走了！”
“我的衣服又有什么不对劲了？”米斯怒气冲冲地追问：“这是我最好的一件礼服，直到那两个XXX的恶鬼，把他们的爪子搭上来为止。我把要告诉你的话说完之后，用不着你赶，我也缓螈刻自动离开。老天——啊！如果事情不是和谢顿危机有关，我真想现在就走了。”
“谢顿危机！”茵德布尔总算现出了一点兴趣。他知道米斯是一位伟大的心理学家——此外他还是个民主分子、乡巴佬，而且无疑是个叛徒，然而他终究是心理学的权威。
米斯随手摘下了一朵花，满怀期待地放在鼻端闻了一下，却马上又皱着眉头把花丢开。市长虽然目睹了这一切，但是由于他的心中有些犹豫，竟然忘记了将突现的心痛化为言语。
茵德布尔只是以冷漠的口气说：“跟我来好吗？在这个花园里并不适合商谈正事。”
必到办公室之后，市长立刻坐到大书桌后面那张特制的椅子上，顿时感到心情改善不少。现在他可以俯视着米斯，看得到他头上所剩无几的头发，及根本无法盖住的粉红色头皮。米斯自然而然地环顾四周，寻找着另外一张根本不存在的椅子，最后只好浑身不自在地站在原处。市长看到这种反应，他的心情就更好了。然后，市长慎重地选择了一个按钮按下，随即就有一名穿着制服的小吏应声出现，弯着腰极点。
“现在，”茵德布尔感觉到自己又重新掌握住情势，遂以轻松的口气说：“为了让这个未经批准的晤谈尽早结束，将你的陈述尽量长话短说。”
艾布林•米斯却不慌不忙地说道：“你知道我最近在做些什么研究？”
“你的报告就在我的手边，”市长得意洋洋地回答：“还有秘书为我做的正式摘要。就我所知，你正在研究心理史学的数学结构，希望能够重新导出哈里•谢顿的发现。最终的目标，是想要为基地描绘出既定的未来历史轨迹。”
“一点都没错。”米斯淡淡地回答：“当初谢顿建立基地的时候，他想得很周到，没有让心理学家跟其他科学家一块来，所以基地一直盲目地循着历史的必然轨迹发展。在我的研究过程中，我大量采用了穹窿中所发现的线索。”
“这一点我也知道，米斯，你重复这些只是在浪费时间。”
“我不是要重复什么话，”米斯尖声地大吼：“因为我要告诉你的事情，全都不在那些报告里面。”
“全都不在报告里面，你这话是什么意思？”茵德布尔傻愣愣地说：“怎么可能……”
“老天——噢！让我自己把话说完好不好？你这个讨厌的小矮人，别再拼命打岔，也别对我说的每一句话都要质疑，否则我马上头也不回离开这里，眼睁睁地看着你身边的一切全都毁灭。记住，你这个XXX的傻瓜，基地无论如何都能度过难关，因为这是必然的，但是如果我现在掉头就走——你就过不了关啦。”
米斯把帽子摔在地板上，黏在上面的土块立刻四散纷飞。然后他猛然跳上大书桌所在的石台，把桌上的文件用力扫开，再一屁股坐上书桌的一角。
茵德布尔简直吓得六神无主，他不知道该召警卫进来，还是要拔出藏在桌子里的手铳。但是他一抬头，看见米斯正由上而下狠狠地瞪着他，就什么也不会做了，只能畏畏缩缩地陪着笑脸。
“米斯博士，”他开始用比较正式的口气说：“您必须……”
“给我闭嘴，好好听着！”米斯凶巴巴地说。
“如果这些东西——”他的手掌重重打在金属卷宗上：“就是我所写的报告，才能送到你这里；然后你的任何批示，又要经过二十几手才能发下来。如果你根本不想保密的话，这样做倒是没有什么关系。不过，我这里的东西却是机密，是绝对的机密，即使是我的那些助手，也不清楚葫芦里究竟是什么药。当然，研究工作大多是他们做的，但是每个人只负责不相干的一小部分，最后再由我把结果拼凑起来——你知不知道穹窿到底是什么？”
茵德布尔拼命点着头，但是米斯却越来越得意，又高声吼道：“好吧，我反正要告诉你，因为我想像这个XXX的机会，已经想了跟老天爷一样久了。我可以看透你的心思，你这个成不了气候的骗子，你的手正放在一个按钮旁边，随时可以叫来五百多个武装警卫把我干掉。可是，你却又在担心我所知道的事情——你在担心谢顿危机。我告诉你，如果你碰碰桌子上面任何东西，在任何人进来之前，我会先将你XXX的脑袋摘下来。你的爸爸是个土匪，你的爷爷是个强盗，而你跟他们没有两样，基地被你们一家人吸血，已经吸得太久了。”
“你这是叛变。”茵德布尔含糊地吐出了这么一句。
“显然没错，”米斯志得意满地回答：“可是你准备拿我怎么办？让我来告诉你有关穹窿的一切——穹窿是哈里•谢顿当年建造的，目的是为了帮助我们度过难关。对于每一个预定的危机，谢顿都准备了一个录影来现身说法，并且为我们解释危机的意义。直到目前为止，基地总共经历了四次危机，谢顿也已经出现过四次。第一次，他出现在危机的最高潮；第二次他出现的时候，是危机刚刚圆满解决之际。前面这两次，我们的祖先都来到穹窿中观看他的录影演说。然而在第三、第四次的危机来临时，谢顿却被人忽略了，也许是因为根本不需要他的指点。可是根据我最近的研究显示——你手中的报告完全没有提到这些——谢顿当时还是曾经在穹窿现身，而且都是在正确的时机出现。你懂了吗？”
米斯手中的雪茄早就烂成一团，现在他终于把它丢掉，又摸出了一根点上，开始大口大口地吞云吐雾。
他根本不等市长回答，就继续说：“表面上，我的工作是试图重建心理史学这门科学。不过，任何人都无法单独完成这项工作，即使有很多人共同努力，在一个世纪之内也不可能成功。但是我在比较简单的环节上得到一些突破，利用这些成绩顿下次出现的正确日期——这是非常可信的推测。我可以告诉你这个日子，换句话说，就是下一个谢顿危机——第五个危机——升高到顶点的时间。”
“距离现在还有多久？”茵德布尔紧张兮兮地追问。
米斯以轻松愉快又轻描淡写的口气，引爆了他带来的这颗炸弹：“四个月，四个月还少XXX的两天。”
“四个月？”茵德布尔不再装腔作势，他激动万分地说：“不可能！”
“不可能？我可以发XXX的誓。”
“四个月，你可知道这代表着什么？如果四个月之后会有危机来临，就代表这个危机已经酝酿有好几年了。”
“有何不可？难道有什么自然律规定危机必须在光天化日之下酝酿吗？”
“可是根本没有任何征兆，没有任何迫在层睫的事件。”茵德布尔紧张得几乎把手都拧断了。突然间，他就像触了电似的，猛地恢复凶狠的气势，尖叫道：“你给我爬下桌子去，让我把桌面收拾整齐好不好？这个样子叫我怎么能够思考？”
这句话倒把米斯吓了一跳，他赶紧将庞大的身躯栘开桌面，站到一旁去。
茵德布尔立刻忙着将所有东西归回原位，然后流利地说：“你没有权利这样随随便便就进来，如果你正式提出你的理论……”
“这不是理论。”
“我说是理论就是理论。如果你正式提出你的理论，并且附上证据与论述，按照规定的格式整理好，它就会被送到历史科学局去。那里自有专人负责妥善处理，再将分析的结果呈递给我，然后，当然，我就会指示应该采取的适当措施。如今你这么乱来，只会把我的心情搞乱——啊，在这里！”
市长抓起了一张透明的银纸，在肥胖的心理学家面前来回地摇蔽。
“这是我自己准备的外交事务每周摘要。你听着——我们已经和莫尔斯完成了贸易条约的磋商；将要继续和里欧尼斯进行相同的磋商；派遗代表去邦第参加一个什么庆典；从卡尔根收到了一个什么抗议，我们已经答应加以研究；向阿斯波达抗议他们的贸易政策过于严苛，他们也答应会加以研究，等等，等等。”
念完之后，市长的目光聚焦在一行目录上，然后小心翼翼地举起那张银纸，放“我告诉你，米斯，放眼银河，没有一处不是充满了秩序、和平……”
卑没说完；远处一扇门突然打开，一个穿着朴素的官员随即走了进来。
茵德布尔想要站起来，起身的动作却在半途僵住。最近发生了太多意料不到的事情，令他感到晕头转向，仿佛是在作梦一般。刚才先有米斯硬闯进来，跟他大吵大闹了好一阵子，现在他的秘书竟然又一声不响就走进来，这个举动实在太不合宜了，秘书至少应该懂得规矩。
现在，秘书已经单膝跪在市长面前。
茵德布尔用尖锐的声音吼了一句：“怎么样！”
秘书低着头，面对着地板说：“市长阁下，情报局的汉•普利吉上尉已经从卡尔根回来了。由于他违抗了您的命令，根据您早先的指示——市长手令第二○一五二二号——已经将他收押，等待判刑之后发监。跟他一起回来的人，也被扣留起来留待查问，完整的报告已经呈递上来。”
茵德布尔恼怒不堪地说：“完整的报告已经收到了，怎么样！”
“市长阁下，在普利吉上尉所作的口供中，提到了一些关于卡尔根新统领的危险阴谋。根据您早先的指示——市长手令第二○一六五一号——不准为他这种人举行正式的听证会。不过，他的口供全部做成了纪录，完整的报告已经呈递上来。”
茵德布尔声嘶力竭地吼道：“完整的报告已经收到了，怎么样！”
“市长阁下，在一刻钟之前，我们接到了来自沙林边境的报告。有许多艘卡尔根的船舰，强行闯入基地领域，那些船舰上都有武装，现在已经打起来了。”
秘书的头垂得越来越低，茵德布尔站在书桌后面一动不动。艾布林•米斯甩了甩头，然后一步步走近秘书，猛拍着秘书的肩膀。
“喂，你现在最好叫他们赶快释放那名上尉，然后送他到这里来，赶快去。”
秘书即刻离去，米斯又转向市长说：“茵德布尔，你的政府是不是该开始准备了？四个月，你知道了。”
茵德布尔仍然站在那里，他的目光呆滞，全身似乎只剩下一根手指头还能够动——那根手指在他身前光滑的桌面上，飞快地画着一个又一个的三角形。
16. CONFERENCE


When the twenty-seven independent Trading worlds, united only by their distrust of the mother planet of the Foundation, concert an assembly among themselves, and each is big with a pride grown of its smallness, hardened by its own insularity and embittered by eternal danger ?there are preliminary negotiations to be overcome of a pettiness sufficiently staggering to heartsicken the most persevering.

It is not enough to fix in advance such details as methods of voting, type of representation ?whether by world or by population. These are matters of involved political importance. It is not enough to fix matters of priority at the table, both council and dinner, those are matters of involved social importance.

It was the place of meeting ?since that was a matter of overpowering provincialism. And in the end the devious routes of diplomacy led to the world of Radole, which some commentators had suggested at the start for logical reason of central position.

Radole was a small world ?and, in military potential, perhaps the weakest of the twenty-seven. That, by the way, was another factor in the logic of the choice.

It was a ribbon world ?of which the Galaxy boasts sufficient, but among which, the inhabited variety is a rarity for the physical requirements are difficult to meet. It was a world, in other words, where the two halves face the monotonous extremes of heat and cold, while the region of possible life is the girdling ribbon of the twilight zone.

Such a world invariably sounds uninviting to those who have not tried it, but there exist spots, strategically placed ?and Radole City was located in such a one.

It spread along the soft slopes of the foothills before the hacked-out mountains that backed it along the rim of the cold hemisphere and held off the frightful ice. The warm, dry air of the sun-half spilled over, and from the mountains was piped the water-and between the two, Radole City became a continuous garden, swimming in the eternal morning of an eternal June.

Each house nestled among its flower garden, open to the fangless elements. Each garden was a horticultural forcing ground, where luxury plants grew in fantastic patterns for the sake of the foreign exchange they brought ?until Radole had almost become a producing world, rather than a typical Trading world.

So, in its way, Radole City was a little point of softness and luxury on a horrible planet ?a tiny scrap of Eden ?and that, too, was a factor in the logic of the choice.

The strangers came from each of the twenty-six other Trading worlds: delegates, wives, secretaries, newsmen, ships, and crews ?and Radole's population nearly doubled and Radole's resources strained themselves to the limit. One ate at will, and drank at will, and slept not at all.

Yet there were few among the roisterers who were not intensely aware that all that volume of the Galaxy burnt slowly in a sort of quiet, slumbrous war. And of those who were aware, there were dime classes. First, there were the many who knew little and were very confident.

Such as the young space pilot who wore the Haven cockade on the clasp of his cap, and who managed, in holding his glass before his eyes, to catch those of the faintly smiling Radolian girl opposite. He was saying:

"We came fight through the war-zone to get here-on purpose. We traveled about a light-minute or so, in neutral, right past Horleggor?

"Horleggor?" broke in a long-legged native, who was playing host to that particular gathering. "That's where the Mule got the guts beat out of him last week, wasn't it?"

"Where'd you hear that the Mule got the guts beat out of him?" demanded the pilot, loftily.

"Foundation radio."

"Yeah? Well, the Mule's got Horleggor. We almost ran into a convoy of his ships, and that's where they were coming from. It isn't a gut-beating when you stay where you fought, and the gut-beater leaves in a hurry."

Someone else said in a high, blurred voice, "Don't talk like that. Foundation always takes it on the chin for a while. You watch; just sit tight and watch. Ol' Foundation knows when to come back. And then ?pow!" The thick voice concluded and was succeeded by a bleary grin.

"Anyway." said the pilot from Haven, after a short pause, "As I say, we saw the Mule's ships, and they looked pretty good, pretty good. I tell you what ?they looked new."

"New?" said the native, thoughtfully. "They build them themselves?" He broke a leaf from an overhanging branch, sniffed delicately at it, then crunched it between his teeth, the bruised tissues bleeding greenly and diffusing a minty odor. He said, "You trying to tell me they beat Foundation ships with homebuilt jobs? Go on."

"We saw them, doc. And I can tell a ship from a comet, too, you know."

The native leaned close. "You know what I think. Listen, don't kid yourself. Wars don't just start by themselves, and we have a bunch of shrewd apples running things. They know what they're doing."

The well-unthirsted one said with sudden loudness, "You watch ol' Foundation. They wait for the last minute, then ?pow!" He grinned with vacuously open mouth at the girl, who moved away from him.

The Radolian was saying, "For instance, old man, you think maybe that this Mule guy's running things. No-ooo." And he wagged a finger horizontally. "The way I hear it, and from pretty high up, mind you, he's our boy. We're paying him off, and we probably built those ships. Let's be realistic about it ?we probably did. Sure, he can't beat the Foundation in the long run, but he can get them shaky, and when he does ?we get in."

The girl said, "Is that all you can talk about, Klev? The war? You make me tired."

The pilot from Haven said, in an access of gallantry,

"Change the subject. Can't make the girls tired."

The bedewed one took up the refrain and banged a mug to the rhythm. The little groups of two that had formed broke up with giggles and swagger, and a few similar groups of twos emerged from the sun-house in the background.

The conversation became more general, more varied, more meaningless.

Then there were those who knew a little more and were less confident.

Such as the one-armed Fran, whose large bulk represented Haven as official delegated, and who lived high in consequence, and cultivated new friendships ?with women when he could and with men when he had to.

It was on the sun platform of the hilltop home, of one of these new friends, that he relaxed for the first of what eventually proved to be a total of two times while on Radole. The new friend was Iwo Lyon, a kindred soul of Radole. Iwo's house was apart from the general cluster, apparently alone in a sea of floral perfume and insect chatter. The sun platform was a grassy strip of lawn set at a forty-five degree angle, and upon it Fran stretched out and fairly sopped up sun.

He said, "Don't have anything like this on Haven."

Iwo replied, sleepily, "Ever seen the cold side. There's a spot twenty miles from here where the oxygen runs like water. "

"Go on.

"Fact."

"Well, I'll tell you, Iwo-In the old days before my arm was chewed off I knocked around, see ?and you won't believe this, but" ?The story that followed lasted considerably, and Iwo didn't believe it.

Iwo said, through yawns, "They don't make them like in the old days, that's the truth."

"No, guess they don't. Well, now," Fran fired up, "don't say that. I told you about my son, didn't I? He's one of the old school, if you like. He'll make a great Trader, blast it. He's his old man up and down. Up and down, except that he gets married."

"You mean legal contract? With a girl?"

"That's right. Don't see the sense in it myself. They went to Kalgan for their honeymoon."

"Kalgan? Kalgan? When the Galaxy was this?"

Fran smiled broadly, and said with slow meaning, "Just before the Mule declared war on the Foundation."

"That so?"

Fran nodded and motioned Iwo closer with his head. He said, hoarsely, "In fact, I can tell you something, if you don't let it go any further. My boy was sent to Kalgan for a purpose. Now I wouldn't like to let it out, you know, just what the purpose was, naturally, but you look at the situation now, and I suppose you can make a pretty good guess. In any case, my boy was the man for the job. We Traders needed some sort of ruckus." He smiled, craftily. "It's here. I'm not saying how we did it, but ?my boy went to Kalgan, and the Mule sent out his ships. My son!"

Iwo was duly impressed. He grew confidential in his turn, "That's good. You know, they say we've got five hundred ships ready to pitch in on our own at the right time. "

Fran said authoritatively, "More than that, maybe. This is real strategy. This is the kind I like." He clawed loudly at the skin of his abdomen. "But don't you forget that the Mule is a smart boy, too. What happened at Horleggor worries me."

"I heard he lost about ten ships."

"Sure, but he had a hundred more, and the Foundation had to get out. It's all to the good to have those tyrants beaten, but not as quickly as all that." He shook his head.

"The question I ask is where does the Mule get his ships? There's a widespread rumor we're making them for him."

"We? The Traders? Haven has the biggest ship factories anywhere in the independent worlds, and we haven't made one for anyone but ourselves. Do you suppose any world is building a fleet for the Mule on its own, without taking the precaution of united action? That's a ... a fairy tale."

"Well, where does he get them?"

And Fran shrugged, "Makes them himself, I suppose. That worries me, too."

Fran blinked at the sun and curled his toes about the smooth wood of the polished foot-rest. Slowly, he fell asleep and the soft burr of his breathing mingled with the insect sibilance.

Lastly, there were the very few who knew considerable and were not confident at all.

Such as Randu, who on the fifth day of the all-Trader convention entered the Central Hall and found the two men he had asked to be there, waiting for him. The five hundred seats were empty ?and were going to stay so.

Randu said quickly, almost before he sat down, "We three represent about half the military potential of the Independent Trading Worlds."

"Yes," said Mangin of Iss, "my colleague and I have already commented upon the fact."

"I am ready," said Randu, "to speak quickly and earnestly. I am not interested in bargaining or subtlety. Our position is radically in the worse."

"As a result of? urged Ovall Gri of Mnemon.

"Of developments of the last hour. Please! From the beginning. First, our position is not of our doing, and but doubtfully of our control. Our original dealings were not with the Mule, but with several others; notably the ex-warlord of Kalgan, whom the Mule defeated at a most inconvenient time for us."

"Yes, but this Mule is a worthy substitute," said Mangin. "I do not cavil at details."

"You may when you know all the details." Randu leaned forward and placed his hands upon the table palms-up in an obvious gesture.

He said, "A month ago I sent my nephew and my nephew's wife to Kalgan."

"Your nephew!" cried Ovall Gri, in surprise. "I did not know he was your nephew."

"With what purpose," asked Mangin, dryly. "This?" And his thumb drew an inclusive circle high in the air.

"No. If you mean the Mule's war on the Foundation, no. How could I aim so high? The young man knew nothing ?neither of our organization nor of our aims. He was told I was a minor member of an intra-Haven patriotic society, and his function at Kalgan was nothing but that of an amateur observer. My motives were, I must admit, rather obscure. Mainly, I was curious about the Mule. He is a strange phenomenon ?but that's a chewed cud; I'll not go into it. Secondly, it would make an interesting and educational training project for a man who had experience with the Foundation and the Foundation underground and showed promise of future usefulness to us. You see?

Ovall's long face fell into vertical lines as he showed his large teeth, "You must have been surprised at the outcome, then, since there is not a world among the Traders, I believe, that does not know that this nephew of yours abducted a Mule underling in the name of the Foundation and furnished the Mule with a casus belli. Galaxy, Randu, you spin romances. I find it hard to believe you had no hand in that. Come, it was a skillful job."

Randu shook his white head, "Not of my doing. Nor, willfully, of my nephew's, who is now held prisoner at the Foundation, and may not live to see the completion of this so-skillful job. I have just heard from him. The Personal Capsule has been smuggled out somehow, come through the war zone, gone to Haven, and traveled from there to here. It has been a month on its travels."

"And??

Randu leaned a heavy hand upon the heel of his palm and said, sadly, "I'm afraid we are cast for the same role that the onetime warlord of Kalgan played. The Mule is a mutant!"

There was a momentary qualm; a faint impression of quickened heartbeats. Randu might easily have imagined it.

When Mangin spoke, the evenness of his voice was unchanged, "How do you know?"

"Only because my nephew says so, but he was on Kalgan.

"What kind of a mutant? There are all kinds, you know."

Randu forced the rising impatience down, "All kinds of mutants, yes, Mangin. All kinds! But only one kind of Mule. What kind of a mutant would start as an unknown, assemble an army, establish, they say, a five-mile asteroid as original base, capture a planet, then a system, then a region ?and then attack the Foundation, and defeat them at Horleggor. And all in two or three years!"

Ovall Gri shrugged, "So you think he'll beat the Foundation?"

"I don't know. Suppose he does?"

"Sorry, I can't go that far. You don't beat the Foundation. Look, there's not a new fact we have to go on except for the statements of a ... well, of an inexperienced boy. Suppose we shelve it for a while. With all the Mule's victories, we weren't worried until now, and unless he goes a good deal further than he has, I see no reason to change that. Yes?"

Randu frowned and despaired at the cobweb texture of his argument. He said to both, "Have we yet made any contact with the Mule?"

"No," both answered.

"It's true, though, that we've tried, isn't it? It's true that there's not much purpose to our meeting unless we do reach him, isn't it? It's true that so far there's been more drinking than thinking, and more wooing than doing ?I quote from an editorial in today's Radole Tribune ?and all because we can't reach the Mule. Gentlemen, we have nearly a thousand ships waiting to be thrown into the fight at the proper moment to seize control of the Foundation. I say we should change that. I say, throw those thousand onto the board now ?against the Mule."

"You mean for the Tyrant Indbur and the bloodsuckers of the Foundation?" demanded Mangin, with quiet venom.

Randu raised a weary hand, "Spare me the adjectives. Against the Mule, I say, and for I-don't-care-who."

Ovall Gri rose, "Randu, I'll have nothing to do with that, You present it to the full council tonight if you particularly hunger for political suicide."

He left without another word and Mangin followed silently, leaving Randu to drag out a lonely hour of endless, insoluble consideration.

At the full council that night, he said nothing.

But it was Ovall Gri who pushed into his room the next morning; an Ovall Gri only sketchily dressed and who had neither shaved nor combed his hair.

Randu stared at him over a yet-uncleared breakfast table with an astonishment sufficiently open and strenuous to cause him to drop his pipe.

Ovall said baldly, harshly. "Mnemon has been bombarded from space by treacherous attack."

Randu's eyes narrowed, "The Foundation?"

"The Mule!" exploded Ovall. "The Mule!" His words raced, "It was unprovoked and deliberate. Most of our fleet had joined the international flotilla. The few left as Home Squadron were insufficient and were blown out of the sky. There have been no landings yet, and there may not be, for half the attackers are reported destroyed ?but it is war ?and I have come to ask how Haven stands on the matter."

"Haven, I am sure, will adhere to the spirit of the Charter of Federation. But, you see? He attacks us as well."

"This Mule is a madman. Can he defeat the universe?" He faltered and sat down to seize Randu's wrist, "Our few survivors have reported the Mule's poss ... enemy's possession of a new weapon. A nuclear-field depressor."

"A what?"

Ovall said, "Most of our ships were lost because their nuclear weapons failed them. It could not have happened by either accident or sabotage. It must have been a weapon of the Mule. It didn't work perfectly; the effect was intermittent; there were ways to neutralize ?my dispatches are not detailed. But you see that such a tool would change the nature of war and, possibly, make our entire fleet obsolete."

Randu felt an old, old man. His face sagged hopelessly, "I am afraid a monster is grown that will devour all of us. Yet we must fight him."
第十六章 大会
　　二十七个由独立行商组成的世界，由於对基地母星的不满，决定团结起来组成一个联盟。这些独立行商的世界，每一个都像井底之蛙那般自大而顽固，而且由於常年与危险为伍，因此全都充满暴戾之气。他们在举行首度大会之前，曾经做过多次先期磋商与交涉，目的是解决一个连最有耐心的人都会被烦死的小问题。
这个小问题并不是关於大会的技术细节，例如投票的方式——代表究竟是以世界计或是以人口计，因为那些问题牵涉到重要的政治因素。它也不是关於代表们的座次——包括会议桌与餐桌的座次，因为那些问题牵涉到重要的社会因素。
这个小问题其实就是开会的地点，因为这才是跟与会代表最有切身关系的问题。经过了迂回曲折的外交谈判，终於选定了拉多尔世界。事实上，在磋商开始的时候，有些新闻评论员就已经猜到了这个结果，因为拉多尔的位置适中，是最合乎逻辑的选择。
拉多尔是一个很小的世界，就军事潜力而言，可能也是二十七个世界中力量最弱的。不过，这也是它雀屏中选的另一个原因。
它是一个带状的世界——这种行星在银河系中十分普遍，然而，其中适合住人的却少之又少，因为难得会有恰到好处的自然条件。所谓带状世界的行星，是指它的两个半球处於两种极端的温度，只有在中央的环状过渡地带，才可能会有生命出现。
从来没有到过这个世界的人，一定会认为它没有什么吸引力。其实它上面有好些极具价值的地点，拉多尔唯一的城市——拉多尔市就是其中之一。
这个城市沿著山麓的缓坡展开，紧邻著它的好几座嵯峨崎岖的高山，阻挡了山后低温半球的酷寒冰雪，并且为城市供应所需的用水。而被太阳炙晒的另一半球，则为它送来温暖乾燥的空气。拉多尔市处於两个半球之间，成了一个四季如春的花园，全年彷佛都沐浴在六月天的清晨。
城中每一幢房舍四周都有露天花园，里面长满了珍贵的奇花异草，全部都以人工加速栽培。这些园艺为当地人换取了大量的外汇，如今，拉多尔几乎已经变成一个农业世界，而不再是典型的行商世界。
因此，在这个遍布穷山恶水的行星上，拉多尔市可算是一个小小的世外桃源。而这一点，也是它被选为大会召开地点的原因。
来自其他二十六个行商世界的会议代表、眷属、秘书、新闻记者、船舰与舰员，在短时间内使拉多尔的人口几乎暴涨一倍。拉多尔的各种资源几乎被消耗殆尽，大家尽情吃喝，尽情玩乐，根本没有人想休息。
不过在这些吃暍玩乐的人群之中，只有极少数的人懵懵懂懂，不知道战火已经悄悄蔓延到了整个银河。而在那些了解局势的大多数人当中，又可以再细分为三大类。
其中第一类占大多数，他们知道的并不多，不过却信心十足。
例如，那个帽扣上镶著“赫汶”字样的太空船驾驶员，就是第一类人的典型。那个年轻人正把玻璃杯举到眼前，透过玻璃杯，看著对面带著一丝微笑的拉多尔女郎，同时说道：“我们是直接穿过战区来到这里的——故意的。经过侯里哥之后，我们就关闭发动机，继续飞行了一光分的距离……”
“侯里哥？”　一名长腿的本地人插嘴问道，这次聚会就是由他作东。他又补充道：“就是上个星期，骡被打得屁滚尿流的那个地方，对下对？
“你是从哪里听到，说骡被打得屁滚尿流？”驾驶员以高傲的口气反问。
“从基地的电台听来的。”
“是吗？乱讲，其实是骡打下了侯里哥。我们几乎撞到了他的一艘护航舰，他们就是从侯里哥来的。如果骡真的被打得屁滚尿流，怎么可能还缓篝在原处，而把他打得屁滚尿流的基地舰队，却反而溜之大吉？”
另外一个人用高亢而含糊的声音说：“你别这么说，基地照例总是先挨两下子的。你等著瞧吧，把眼睛睁大点，老牌的基地迟早会打回来的，到了那个时候——碰！”这个声音含混的人说完之后，醉醺醺的眼睛中充满著笑意。
赫汶来的驾驶员沈默了一阵子，接著又说道：“无论如何，就像我刚才所说的，我们亲眼看见了骡的星舰，而且它们看起来十分精良——十分精良。我告诉你，它们看来像是新建造的。”
“新建造的？”作东的本地人若有所思地说：“他们自己造的吗？”
他随手摘下头顶上的一片叶子，优雅地放在鼻端闻了一下，然后丢进嘴里嚼了起来。被嚼烂的树叶流出绿色的汁液，空气中顿时弥漫著浓郁的薄荷香味。接著他又说：“你是想告诉我，他们用自己随便拼凑的船舰，竟然击败了基地的舰队？别胡说了！
“老学究，是我们亲眼看到的。我至少还能分辨出船舰和彗星有什么不同，你知道吗？”
本地人向驾驶员凑过去：　“你知道我在想什么吗？听好，别再跟自己开玩笑了。战争下会无缘无故就打起来，我们有一大堆精明能干的领导者，他们知道自己在做些什么。”
另外那个喝醉酒的人，突然又大声叫道：“你注意看著老牌的基地，他们会忍耐到最后一分钟，然后就『碰”！”说完，他愣愣张著嘴巴，对身边的女郎微微一笑，女郎赶紧从他身边走开。
“比如说吧，老兄，你认为也许是那个什么骡在控制一切，不——对！”拉多尔人说。然后他伸出一根手指摇了摇：“我所听到的，顺便提醒你一下，我是从很高层那里听来的，其实骡根本就是我们的人。我们买通了他，他的新船舰也许就是我们建造的。让我们面对现实——我们也许真的那么做了。当然，他最后绝不可能打败基地，却能搞得他们人心惶惶。当他做到这一点的时候，我们就可以乘虚而入啦。”
那女郎问道：“克雷夫，你只会说这些事情吗？战争，战争，我都听押笏。”
赫汶来的那名驾驶员，马上用过度殷勤的口气说：　“赶快换个话题吧，我们 不能让女孩们厌烦。”
“赶快换个话题吧，赶快换个话题吧……”喝醉的那人不断地重复这句话，同时还拿啤酒杯在桌上敲著拍子。
此时有几双看对了眼的男女，笑嘻嘻地大摇大摆离开了餐桌。同时，又有一些成双成对的露水鸳鸯，从后院的“阳房”中走了出来。
卑题变得越来越广泛，越来越杂乱，越来越没有意义……
第二类人，知道的比较多一点，信心却又少一些。
像独臂而魁梧的弗南就是其中之一。他是赫汶出席这次大会的官方代表，因此获得大会很高的礼遇。他在这里忙著结交新朋友——尽可能挑女性朋友，不过有必要时，男性朋友也绝不排斥。
现在，他正待在一间山顶房舍的阳台上，这间房舍的主人是弗南新结交的一位朋友。自从他来到拉多尔之后，今天才算第一次松懈下来——后来他回忆起来，在拉多尔的那段日子，前前后后也只有两次这种机会。弗南那位新朋友名叫埃欧•里昂，他不是道地的拉多尔人，不过与当地人有亲戚关系。埃欧的房舍并非坐落在大众住宅区，而是独立於一片花海之中，四周充满了花香与虫鸣。弗南所在的那个阳台，其实是一幢倾斜四十五度的草坪，他摊开四肢躺在上面，尽情地享受著温暖的阳光。
“这些享受在赫汶一样都没有。”弗南说。
埃欧懒洋洋地回答：“你曾看过低温半球的景观吗？离这里二十哩就有一处，氧气凝结成了液体，像水一样流动。”
“你少胡说八道了。”
“绝对是事实。”
“得了吧，埃欧，我告诉你——想当年我的手臂还连在肩膀上的时候，我跑遍了整个银河，你知道吗？你下会相信的，下过……就讲了一个好长好长的故事。埃欧果然完全不信。
埃欧一面打著呵欠，一面说道：“新不如旧，事实就是如此。”
“我想也是，唉，”弗南突然发起火来：“别再提这种事了。我跟你提过我的儿子没有？你可以说他是个旧派人物，他将来一定会成为一个伟大的行商。他妈的，他从头到脚都跟他老子一模一样——从头到脚，唯一不同的是他竟然胶笏婚。”
“你的意思是说签了一张卖身契？跟一个女人？”
“就是这样，我自己一点也看不出这有什么意义。现在，他们夫妻到卡尔根度蜜月去了。”
“卡尔根？卡——尔——根！老天，那是什么时候的事情？”
哎南笑得很开心，回答道：“就在骡对基地宣战前不久。”他故意说得很慢，代表这句话另有深意。
“他们只是去度蜜月吗？”
哎南点点头，又示意埃欧向他靠近，然后以沙哑的声音说：“事实上，我可以告诉你一些事情，只要你别再泄露出去就好。我的孩子去卡尔根其实另有目的，当然，你也知道，现在我还下想泄露这个目的究竟是什么。不过你只要看看目前的局势，我想你就能猜得八九不离十。总之，我的孩子是那件任务的执行者，我们行商亟需一点骚动——”
他露出了狡猾的微笑，继续说道：“现在果然来了。我不能说我们是如何做到的，但是，我的孩子一到卡尔根，骡就派出了他的舰队——我的儿子！”
埃欧感到十分佩服，也开始对弗南推心置腹：“那太好了，你知道吗？据说我们有五百艘船舰，随时待命出发。”
哎南以权威的口气说：“也许还不只这个数目。这才是真正的战略，我喜欢这样。”
他使劲抓了抓肚皮，发出骇人的声响，又说：“可是你别忘记了，骡也是一个精明的人物，在侯里哥发生的状况令我很担心。”
“我听说他损失了十艘船舰。”
“当然，可是他总共动用了一百多艘，基地最后只好撤退。那些独裁者吃了败仗，固然是大快人心的事情，可是他们这样兵败如山倒，却也下是一件好事。”说完他摇了摇头。
“我的问题是，骡的船舰到底是从哪里弄来的？现在谣言满天飞，都说是我们帮他建造的。”
“我们？行商？赫汶拥有独立世界最大的星舰制造厂，可是我们从来没有帮任何外人造过一艘船舰。你以为有哪一个世界，会不顾虑其他世界的联合抵制，而擅自为骡提供一个舰队？这……简直是神话。”
“那么，他到底是从哪里弄来那些船舰的？”
哎南耸耸肩：“我想，那是他自己建造的，这一点也很令我担心。”
说完，弗南朝著太阳眨眨眼睛，将双脚放在光滑的木制脚台上，脚趾来回地屈伸著。不久他就渐渐进入梦乡，轻微的鼾声与虫鸣交织在一起。
最后一类人只占极少数，他们知道的最多，也就一点信心都没有，例如蓝度就属於第三类。
如今“行商大会”进行到了第五天，蓝度走进了会场，看到他原先约好的两个人已经在那里等他。会场中的五百多个座位都还是空的，他们三人故意提早来到这里碰面。
蓝度几乎还没坐下，就迫下及待地说：“我们三个人，就代表了独立行商世界将近一半的军事力量。”
“是的，”伊斯的代表曼金答道：“我们两人已经讨论过这一点了。”
蓝度说：“我准备很快、很诚恳地把话说完，我对於尔虞我诈的交涉谈判一点兴趣也没有。简单一句话，我们如今的情势简直糟透了。”
“是因为——”涅蒙的代表欧瓦•葛利问道。
“是因为上一个小时的发展，拜托！让我们从头检讨一下。首先，我们如今所处的情况，并不是我们的作为所导致的结果，而且无疑也下在我们的控制之中。我们原先的交涉对象并不是骡，而是其他几个统领。其中最重要的，就是卡尔根以前的那个统领，可是在最紧要的关头，他竟然被骡打垮了。”
“没错，然而这个骡却是一个不错的替代人选。”曼金说：“对於合作者，我一向不吹毛求疵。”
“当你知道所有详情之后，就会改变心意了。”蓝度的身子向前倾，双手放在桌面，手掌朝上，做了一个明显的手势。
然后蓝度又说：“一个月之前，我派我的侄子和他老婆到卡尔根去。”
“你的侄儿！”欧瓦•葛利吃惊得吼了出来：“我不知道他就是你的侄儿。”
曼金却以冷淡的口气问：“你这么做有什么目的？这个吗？”他用拇指在空中画了一个大圆。
“不，如果你指的是骡向基地宣战的那件事，不，我怎么可能期望那么高？这个年轻人什么也下知道——既不知道我们的组织，也不了解我们的目的。我只告诉他说，我是赫汶一个爱国团体的普通成员，他到卡尔根去，只是顺便帮我们观察一下状况。我真正的动机，我必须承认，其实也相当嗳昧。我最主要是对骡感到好奇而已，他是一个不可思议的天才——关於这一点，我们已经讨论得够多了，我不想再重复。其次，我的侄子曾经到过基地，也跟那边的地下组织有过接触，他将来很可能成为我们的重要同志。所以我想，让他去一趟卡尔根，将会是一个很有意义的训练。你明白了吗？”
欧瓦的长脸拉得更长，露出了大颗大颗的牙齿。他说：“这么说，你一定对结果大吃一惊。我相信，如今没有一个行商世界，不晓得你那个侄儿假冒基地名义，拐走骡的一名手下，给了骡一个现成的宣战藉口。老天啊，蓝度，你可真会编故事，我实在难以相信你会跟这件事没有牵连。你承认了吧，这一定是个精心策画的行动。”
蓝度却猛摇著头，带动了一头的白发。他回答说：“这不是出於我的策画，也不是我的侄子有意造成的。他如今已经成为基地的阶下囚，可能无法活著看到这个精心策画的行动开花结果。我刚刚收到他的讯息。他将信函装在私人信囊中，不知道用什么方法偷偷传了出来，通过战区辗转送达赫汶，然后又从那里转到这里。足足花了一个月的时间，才到我手上。”
“信上写的是——”
蓝度用单掌撑著身子，以悲切的口吻说：“恐怕我们要步上卡尔根以前那个统领的后尘了。因为，骡是一个突变种！”
这话随即引起一阵不安，蓝度可以想像得到，听到这话的两个人一定立刻心跳加速。
不过当曼金再度开口时，他平稳的口气却一点也没有改变：“你是怎么知道这件事的？”
“只是我的侄子这么说的，不过别忘了，他曾经亲自到过卡尔根。”
“是什么样的突变种呢？你知道，突变种有好多类。”
蓝度勉力压住不耐烦的情绪，解释道：“突变种有好多类，没错，曼金，好多好多类！可是骡却是独一无二的。你想想看，什么样的突变种能够这样白手起家，先是聚集了一股军队，据说，最初只是在一个直径五哩的小行星上建立据点，然后攻占了一个行星，接下来是一个星系、一个星区，最后又开始进攻基地，并且在侯里哥击败了基地的舰队。而这一切的发展，前后只有两三年的时间！”
欧瓦•葛利耸耸肩道：“所以你认为，他终究会击败基地。”
“我不知道，如果他真的做到了呢？”
“抱歉，我可不想扯得那么远，基地是绝对不可能被打败的。听好，我们没有接到任何新的进展报告，除了这个……嗯，这个少不更事的孩子传来的消息。我建议将这个问题暂且摆在一边。骡已经打了那么多场胜仗，我们原来一点也不操心，除非他做得太过分，我看不出有什么理由，需要改变我们目前这种态度。你们说对不对？”
蓝度皱起了眉头，对方说的一堆歪理令他很灰心。他对面前的两个人说：“到目前为止，我们有没有跟骡做过任何接触？”
“没有。”两人齐声回答。
“其实，我们曾经尝试过，对不对？既然我们还没有跟他取得联络，我们召开这场大会也没有什么意义，对不对？现在来到这里的代表，全都是喝得多想得少，说得多做得少——我这句话是引自今天‘拉多尔论坛报’上的一篇评论——这都是因为我们无法联络到骡的关系。两位先生，我们总共拥有近千艘的星舰，只要时机一到，就可以全体动员，将基地一举攻下。事到如今，我认为我们应该改变这个计划，我认为，应该现在就将那一千艘星舰派出去——去对抗骡！”
“你的意思是说，我们应该去帮助茵德布尔那个独裁者，还有基地那帮吸血鬼吗？”曼金轻声追问，口气中带著明显的恨意。
蓝度不耐烦地举起手说：“请别用那么多不必要的形容词，我只是说‘去对抗骡’，我才不管是在帮谁。”
欧瓦•葛利站了起来：“蓝度，我不要跟这件事有任何牵扯，如果你迫不及待想要进行政治自杀，今天晚上就可以向大会提出这个动议。”说完，他头也不回就走了出去，曼金也默默跟著离开。
整个会场中，只剩下了蓝度一个人。他花了一个小时的时间，不断思索著根本没有答案的问题。
当天晚上的大会，蓝度没有做任何发言。
第二天一大早，欧瓦•葛利随便披了件衣服，胡子没有刮，头也没有梳，就冲进了蓝度的房间。
蓝度刚刚吃完早餐，隔著餐桌看到欧瓦•葛利，被他的狼狈模样吓了一跳，手中的烟斗差点滑掉。
欧瓦劈头就粗声喊道：“涅蒙遭到了来自太空的袭击！”
蓝度眯起眼睛来，“是基地吗？”
“是骡！是骡！”欧瓦拼命吼道，然后又一口气地说：“这是蓄意的攻击，根本没有任何理由。我们舰队中大多数的星舰，都已经加入了国际联合舰队，留在本星的后备分遗队根本兵力下足，全都被打得无影无踪。他们目前还没有登陆，也许根本不会登陆，因为根据我接到的报告，对方也损失了半数的船舰。可是这毕竟是一场战争，我来找你，是想问你赫汶对这个事件所采取的立场。”
“我可以肯定，赫汶一定会固守‘联盟宪章’的精神。你可知道，他一样会攻击我们的。”
“这个骡是一个疯子，他难道可以打败整个宇宙吗？”欧瓦蹒珊地走到餐桌旁坐下，抓住蓝度的手腕说：“根据我们幸存的少数生还者报告，说骡……敌人拥有一种新式武器，一种核场抑制器。”
“一种什么？”
欧瓦解释道：“我们的船舰，大多数都是因为核武器失灵才被打下来。这种事情不会是意外，也不可能每艘船舰都遭到破坏，一定是骡的新武器所造成的。不过这种新武器并不完美，时灵时不灵，也不难想办法将它中和——我收到的紧急通知并不详细。但是你可以想像，这种武器将会改变战争的面貌，还有可能使我们整个舰队变成一堆废铁。”
蓝度感到自己突然间老了许多，原本紧绷的脸垮了下来，垂头丧气地说：“这头怪兽已经长大了，恐怕能够将我们全部吞噬。然而我们必须跟他拼一拼。”
17. THE VISI-SONOR
Ebling Mis's house in a not-so-pretentious neighborhood of Terminus City was well known to the intelligentsia, literati, and just-plain-well-read of the Foundation. Its notable characteristics depended, subjectively, upon the source material that was read. To a thoughtful biographer, it was the "symbolization of a retreat from a nonacademic reality," a society columnist gushed silkily at its "frightfully masculine atmosphere of careless disorder," a University Ph.D. called it brusquely, "bookish, but unorganized," a nonuniversity friend said, "good for a drink anytime and you can put your feet on the sofa," and a breezy newsweekly broadcast, that went in for color, spoke of the "rocky, down-to-earth, no-nonsense living quarters of blaspheming, Leftish, balding Ebling Mis."

To Bayta, who thought for no audience but herself at the moment, and who had the advantage of first-hand information, it was merely sloppy.

Except for the first few days, her imprisonment had been a light burden. Far lighter, it seemed, that this half-hour wait in the psychologist's home ?under secret observation, perhaps? She had been with Toran then, at least.

Perhaps she might have grown wearier of the strain, had not Magnifico's long nose drooped in a gesture that plainly showed his own far greater tension.

Magnifico's pipe-stem legs were folded up under a pointed, sagging chin, as if he were trying to huddle himself into disappearance, and Bayta's hand went out in a gentle and automatic gesture of reassurance. Magnifico winced, then smiled.

"Surely, my lady, it would seem that even yet my body denies the knowledge of my mind and expects of others' hands a blow."

"There's no need for worry, Magnifico. I'm with you, and I won't let anyone hurt you."

The clown's eyes sidled towards her, then drew away quickly. "But they kept me away from you earlier ?and from your kind husband ?and, on my word, you may laugh, but I was lonely for missing friendship."

"I wouldn't laugh at that. I was, too."

The clown brightened, and he hugged his knees closer. He said, "You have not met this man who will see us?" It was a cautious question.

"No. But he is a famous man. I have seen him in the newscasts and heard quite a good deal of him. I think he's a good man, Magnifico, who means us no harm."

"Yes?" The clown stirred uneasily. "That may be, my lady, but he has questioned me before, and his manner is of an abruptness and loudness that bequivers me. He is full of strange words, so that the answers to his questions could not worm out of my throat. Almost, I might believe the romancer who once played on my ignorance with a tale that, at such moments, the heart lodged in the windpipe and prevented speech."

"But it's different now. We're two to his one, and he won't be able to frighten the both of us, will he?"

"No, my lady."

A door slammed somewheres, and the roaring of a voice entered the house. Just outside the room, it coagulated into words with a fierce, "Get the "Ga-LAX-y out of here!" and two uniformed guards were momentarily visible through the opening door, in quick retreat.

Ebling Mis entered frowning, deposited a carefully wrapped bundle on the floor, and approached to shake Bayta's hand with careless pressure. Bayta returned it vigorously, man-fashion. Mis did a double-take as he turned to the clown, and favored the girl with a longer look.

He said, "Married?"

"Yes. We went through the legal formalities."

Mis paused. Then, "Happy about it?"

"So far."

Mis shrugged, and turned again to Magnifico. He unwrapped the package, "Know what this is, boy?"

Magnifico fairly hurled himself out of his seat and caught the multi-keyed instrument. He fingered the myriad knobby contacts and threw a sudden back somersault of joy, to the imminent destruction of the nearby furniture.

He croaked, "A Visi-Sonor ?and of a make to distill joy out of a dead man's heart." His long fingers caressed softly and slowly, pressing lightly on contacts with a rippling motion, resting momentarily on one key then another ?and in the air before them there was a soft glowing rosiness, just inside the range of vision.

Ebling Mis said, "All right, boy, you said you could pound on one of those gadgets, and there's your chance. You'd better tune it, though. It's out of a museum." Then, in an aside to Bayta, "Near as I can make it, no one on the Foundation can make it talk right."

He leaned closer and said quickly, "The clown won't talk without you. Will you help?"

She nodded.

"Good!" he said. "His state of fear is almost fixed, and I doubt that his mental strength would possibly stand a psychic probe. If I'm to get anything out of him otherwise, he's got to feel absolutely at ease. You understand?"

She nodded again.

"This Visi-Sonor is the first step in the process. He says he can play it; and his reaction now makes it pretty certain that it's one of the great joys of his life. So whether the playing is good or bad, be interested and appreciative. Then exhibit friendliness and confidence in me. Above all, follow my lead in everything." There was a swift glance at Magnifico, huddled in a comer of the sofa, making rapid adjustments in the interior of the instrument. He was completely absorbed.

Mis said in a conversational tone to Bayta, "Ever hear a Visi-Sonor?"

"Once," said Bayta, equally casually, "at a concert of rare instruments. I wasn't impressed."

"Well, I doubt that you came across good playing. There are very few really good players. It's not so much that it requires physical co-ordination ?a multi-bank piano requires more, for instance ?as a certain type of free-wheeling mentality." In a lower voice, "That's why our living skeleton there might be better than we think. More often than not, good players are idiots otherwise. It's one of those queer setups that makes psychology interesting."

He added, in a patent effort to manufacture light conversation, "You know how the beblistered thing works? I looked it up for this purpose, and all I've made out so far is that its radiations stimulate the optic center of the brain directly, without ever touching the optic nerve. It's actually the utilization of a sense never met with in ordinary nature. Remarkable, when you come to think of it. What you hear is all right. That's ordinary. Eardrum, cochlea, all that. But ?Shh! He's ready. Will you kick that switch. It works better in the dark."

In the darkness, Magnifico was a mere blob, Ebling Mis a heavy-breathing mass. Bayta found herself straining her eyes anxiously, and at first with no effect. There was a thin, reedy quaver in the air, that wavered raggedly up the scale. It hovered, dropped and caught itself, gained in body, and swooped into a booming crash that had the effect of a thunderous split in a veiling curtain.

A little globe of pulsing color grew in rhythmic spurts and burst in midair into formless gouts that swirled high and came down as curving streamers in interfacing patterns. They coalesced into little spheres, no two alike in color ?and Bayta began discovering things.

She noticed that closing her eyes made the color pattern all the clearer; that each little movement of color had its own little pattern of sound; that she could not identify the colors; and, lastly, that the globes were not globes but little figures.

Little figures; little shifting flames, that danced and flickered in their myriads; that dropped out of sight and returned from nowhere; that whipped about one another and coalesced then into a new color.

Incongruously, Bayta thought of the little blobs of color that come at night when you close your eyelids till they hurt, and stare patiently. There was the old familiar effect of the marching polka dots of shifting color, of the contracting concentric circles, of the shapeless masses that quiver momentarily. All that, larger, multivaried ?and each little dot of color a tiny figure.

They darted at her in pairs, and she lifted her hands with a sudden gasp, but they tumbled and for an instant she was the center of a brilliant snowstorm, while cold light slipped off her shoulders and down her arm in a luminous ski-slide, shooting off her stiff fingers and meeting slowly in a shining midair focus. Beneath it all, the sound of a hundred instruments flowed in liquid streams until she could not tell it from the light.

She wondered if Ebling Mis were seeing the same thing, and if not, what he did see, The wonder passed, and then?

She was watching again. The little figures-were they little figures? 杔ittle tiny women with burning hair that turned and bent too quickly for the mind to focus? 杝eized one another in star-shaped groups that turned ?and the music was faint laughter ?girls' laughter that began inside the ear.

The stars drew together, sparked towards one another, grew slowly into structure ?and from below, a palace shot upward in rapid evolution. Each brick a tiny color, each color a tiny spark, each spark a stabbing light that shifted patterns and led the eye skyward to twenty jeweled minarets.

A glittering carpet shot out and about, whirling, spinning an insubstantial web that engulfed all space, and from it luminous shoots stabbed upward and branched into trees that sang with a music all their own.

Bayta sat inclosed in it. The music welled about her in rapid, lyrical flights. She reached out to touch a fragile tree and blossoming spicules floated downwards and faded, each with its clear, tiny tinkle.

The music crashed in twenty cymbals, and before her an area flamed up in a spout and cascaded down invisible steps into Bayta's lap, where it spilled over and flowed in rapid current, raising the fiery sparkle to her waist, while across her lap was a rainbow bridge and upon it the little figures?

A palace, and a garden, and tiny men and women on a bridge, stretching out as far as she could see, swimming through the stately swells of stringed music converging in upon her?

And then ?there seemed a frightened pause, a hesitant, indrawn motion, a swift collapse. The colors fled, spun into a globe that shrank, and rose, and disappeared.

And it was merely dark again.

A heavy foot scratched for the pedal, reached it, and the light flooded in; the flat light of a prosy sun. Bayta blinked until the tears came, as though for the longing of what was gone. Ebling Mis was a podgy inertness with his eyes still round and his mouth still open.

Only Magnifico himself was alive, and he fondled his Visi-Sonor in a crooning ecstasy.

"My lady," he gasped, "it is indeed of an effect the most magical. It is of balance and response almost beyond hope in its delicacy and stability. On this, it would seem I could work wonders. How liked you my composition, my lady?"

"Was it yours?" breathed Bayta. "Your own?"

At her awe, his thin face turned a glowing red to the tip of his mighty nose. "My very own, my lady. The Mule liked it not, but often and often I have played it for my own amusement. It was once, in my youth, that I saw the palace ?a gigantic place of jeweled riches that I saw from a distance at a time of high carnival. There were people of a splendor undreamed of ?and magnificence more than ever I saw afterwards, even in the Mule's service. It is but a poor makeshift I have created, but my mind's poverty precludes more. I call it, 'The Memory of Heaven.'"

Now through the midst of the chatter, Mis shook himself to active life. "Here," he said, "here, Magnifico, would you like to do that same thing for others?"

For a moment, the clown drew back. "For others?" he quavered.

"For thousands," cried Mis, "in the great Halls of the Foundation. Would you like to be your own master, and honored by all, wealthy, and ... and? his imagination failed him. "And all that? Eh? What do you say?"

"But how may I be all that, mighty sir, for indeed I am but a poor clown ungiven to the great things of the world?"

The psychologist puffed out his lips, and passed the back of his hand across his brow. He said, "But your playing, man. The world is yours if you would play so for the mayor and his Trading Trusts. Wouldn't you like that?"

The clown glanced briefly at Bayta, "Would she stay with me?"

Bayta laughed, "Of course, silly. Would it be likely that I'd leave you now that you're on the point of becoming rich and famous?"

"It would all be yours," he replied earnestly, "and surely the wealth of Galaxy itself would be yours before I could repay my debt to your kindness."

"But," said Mis, casually, "if you would first help me?

"What is that?"

The psychologist paused, and smiled, "A little surface probe that doesn't hurt. It wouldn't touch but the peel of your brain."

There was a flare of deadly fear in Magnifico's eyes. "Not a probe. I have seen it used. It drains the mind and leaves an empty skull. The Mule did use it upon traitors and let them wander mindless through the streets, until out of mercy, they were killed." He held up his hand to push Mis away.

"That was a psychic probe," explained Mis, patiently, "and even that would only harm a person when misused. This probe I have is a surface probe that wouldn't hurt a baby. "

"That's right, Magnifico," urged Bayta. "It's only to help beat the Mule and keep him far away. Once that's done, you and I will be rich and famous all our lives."

Magnifico held out a trembling hand, "Will you hold my hand, then?"

Bayta took it in both her own, and the clown watched the approach of the burnished terminal plates with large eyes.

Ebling Mis rested carelessly on the too-lavish chair in Mayor Indbur's private quarters, unregenerately unthankful for the condescension shown him and watched the small mayor's fidgeting unsympathetically. He tossed away a cigar stub and spat out a shred of tobacco.

"And, incidentally, if you want something for your next concert at Mallow Hall, Indbur," he said, "you can dump out those electronic gadgeteers into the sewers they came from and have this little freak play the Visi-Sonor for you. Indbur ?it's out of this world."

Indbur said peevishly, "I did not call you here to listen to your lectures on music. What of the Mule? Tell me that. What of the Mule?"

"The Mule? Well, I'll tell you ?I used a surface probe and got little. Can't use the psychic probe because the freak is scared blind of it, so that his resistance will probably blow his unprintable mental fuses as soon as contact is made. But this is what I've got, if you'll just stop tapping your fingernails?

"First place, de-stress the Mule's physical strength. He's probably strong, but most of the freak's fairy tales about it are probably considerably blown up by his own fearful memory, He wears queer glasses and his eyes kill, he evidently has mental powers."

"So much we had at the start," commented the mayor, sourly.

"Then the probe confirms it, and from there on I've been working mathematically."

"So? And how long will all this take? Your word-rattling will deafen me yet."

"About a month, I should say, and I may have something for you. And I may not, of course. But what of it? If this is all outside Seldon's plans, our chances are precious little, unprintable little."

Indbur whirled on the psychologist fiercely, "Now I have you, traitor. Lie! Say you're not one of these criminal rumormongers that are spreading defeatism and panic through the Foundation, and making my work doubly hard."

"I? I?" Mis gathered anger slowly.

Indbur swore at him, "Because by the dust-clouds of space, the Foundation will win ?the Foundation must win."

"Despite the loss at Horleggor?"

"It was not a loss. You have swallowed that spreading lie, too? We were outnumbered and betreasoned?

"By whom?" demanded Mis, contemptuously.

"By the lice-ridden democrats of the gutter," shouted Indbur back at him. "I have known for long that the fleet has been riddled by democratic cells. Most have been wiped out, but enough remain for the unexplained surrender of twenty ships in the thickest of the swarming fight. Enough to force an apparent defeat.

"For that matter, my rough-tongued, simple patriot and epitome of the primitive virtues, what are your own connections with the democrats?"

Ebling Mis shrugged it off, "You rave, do you know that? What of the retreat since, and the loss of half of Siwenna? Democrats again?"

"No. Not democrats," the little man smiled sharply. "We retreat ?as the Foundation has always retreated under attack, until the inevitable march of history turns with us. Already, I see the outcome. Already, the so-called underground of the democrats has issued manifestoes swearing aid and allegiance to the Government. It could be a feint, a cover for a deeper treachery, but I make good use of it, and the propaganda distilled from it will have its effect, whatever the crawling traitors scheme. And better than that?

"Even better than that, Indbur?"

"Judge for yourself. Two days ago, the so-called Association of Independent Traders declared war on the Mule, and the Foundation fleet is strengthened, at a stroke, by a thousand ships. You see, this Mule goes too far. He finds us divided and quarreling among ourselves and under the pressure of his attack we unite and grow strong. He must lose. It is inevitable ?as always."

Mis still exuded skepticism, "Then you tell me that Seldon planned even for the fortuitous occurrence of a mutant."

"A mutant! I can't tell him from a human, nor could you but for the ravings of a rebel captain, some outland youngsters, and an addled juggler and clown. You forget the most conclusive evidence of all ?your own."

"My own?" For just a moment, Mis was startled.

"Your own," sneered the mayor. "The Time Vault opens in nine weeks. What of that? It opens for a crisis. If this attack of the Mule is not the crisis, where is the 'real' one, the one the Vault is opening for? Answer me, you lardish ball."

The psychologist shrugged, "All tight. If it keeps you happy. Do me a favor, though. Just in case ... just in case old Seldon makes his speech and it does go sour, suppose you let me attend the Grand Opening."

"All right. Get out of here. And stay out of my sight for nine weeks."

"With unprintable pleasure, you wizened horror," muttered Mis to himself as he left.
第十七章 声光琴
　　艾布林•米斯的住宅位於端点市一个还算纯朴的社区，基地所有的知识分子、学者，以及任何一个爱读书报的人，对於米斯的住宅都不陌生。不过每个人的主观印象却不尽相同，这要看他们所读到的报导出自何处而定。
对於一位心思细密的记作家，它是“从非学术的现实隐遁的象徵”。一位社会专栏作家，曾经以过分感情化的流利话语，提到室内“杂乱无章、可怕的雄性气氛”　。一位博士曾经直率地描述它“有书卷气，但是很不整齐”。一位与大学无缘的朋友曾说：“随时都可以来暍一杯，你还可以把脚放在沙发上。”　一位生性活泼、喜欢卖弄文采的每周新闻播报员，有一回提到：“冒渎、激进、粗野的艾布林•米斯，他家的房间显得硬绷绷、实用而毫不荒谬。”
现在，贝妲自己也在心中评价著这个住宅。根据她的第一眼印象，这个家只适用一个形容词，那就是“邋遢”。
除了刚到基地的头几天之外，他们在拘留期间受到的待遇部还不错。她感觉，在心理学家的家中等待的这半个钟头，似乎比过去那些日子还要难熬得多——也许自己正在被人暗中监视呢？至少，她过去一直都能跟杜伦在一块。
如果不是马巨擘的长鼻子垂了下来，露出一副紧张得不得了的表情，这种迫人的气氛，可能会使她感到更难过。
马巨擘并起细长的双腿，顶著尖尖的、松弛的下巴，仿佛恨不得自己能缩成一团然后消失。贝妲不禁伸出手来，做了一个温柔而自然的手势为他打气。马巨擘却吓得缩了一下身子，然后才露出微笑。
“毫无疑问，我亲爱的女士，似乎直到现在为止，我的身子还不肯相信我的脑子，总是以为别人还会伸出手来打我一顿。”
“你用不着担心，马巨擘，有我跟你在一起，我不会让任何人伤害你的。”
小丑的视线悄悄转向贝妲，然后又很快地缩回来：“可是他们原先都不让我跟您——还有您那位好心的丈夫在一块。此外，我还想告诉您，不过您也许会笑我，可是失去了您们的友情，令我感到十分寂寞。”
“我不会笑你的，我自己也有这种感觉。”
小丑显得开朗多了，他将膝盖抱得更紧，谨慎地问说：“这个要来看我们的人，您还没有见过他吧？”
“是啊，不过他是一个名人，我曾经在新闻幕中看过他，也听到过好些关於他的事情。我想他是一个好人，马巨擘，他不会想伤害我们的。”
“是吗？”小丑仍然显得坐立不安：“亲爱的女士，也许您说得对，可是他以前曾经盘问过我，他的态度粗鲁，嗓门又大，吓得我忍不住发抖。他满口都是古怪的言语，对於他问我的问题，我使尽了吃奶的力气，嘴巴里也吐不出半个字——从前有一个说书人，他看我愣头愣脑，就唬我说在这种紧张的时刻，心脏会塞到气管里头，让人什么话都说不出来——这一次，我几乎相信了他的话。”
“不过现在情况不同了，现在我们两个应付他一个，他没有办法把我们两个人都吓倒，对不对？”
“说得也是，我亲爱的女士。”
此时不知从哪里传来碰的一下关门声，接著就是一阵咆哮由远而近。当咆哮声到达门外时，凝聚成了凶暴的一句“给我×××的滚开这里！”门口立时闪过两名穿著制服的警卫，一溜烟就不见了。
艾布林•米斯皱著眉头走进房间，先将一个包得很仔细的东西放到地板上，然后再走过来，跟贝妲随便握了握手。贝妲则回敬以男士的握手方式，用力地摇著对方的手。
当米斯转向小丑的时候，又不禁回头望了望贝妲，目光在她的身上停驻许久，对她露出嘉许的神色。
他问贝妲：“结婚了？”
“是的，我们办理过合法的手续。”
米斯顿了顿，又问：“感到满意吗？”
“目前为止很满意。”
米斯耸了耸肩，又转身面向马巨擘，然后打开那包东西，问道：“孩子，知道这是什么吗？”
马巨擘几乎立刻从坐位中弹跳出去，一把抓住那个多键的乐器。他抚摸著上面无数的圆凸按键，突然兴奋地向后翻了一个筋斗，差点把旁边的家具都撞坏了。
他兴奋得哇哇大叫：“一把声光琴！而且做得那么精致，简直可以让死人都心花怒放。”
他细长的手指慢慢地、温柔地抚摸著那个乐器，然后又轻快地滑过键盘，手指轮流按下一个接一个按键。空气中便出现了柔和的蔷薇色光辉，刚好充满了每个人的视野。
艾布林•米斯道：“好啦，孩子，你说过你会玩这种乐器，现在有机缓笏。不过，你最好先把音调好，这是我从一家博物馆借出来的。”
然后米斯转身向贝妲说：“据我所知，基地上没有一个人会伺候这玩意儿。”
他向贝妲靠近了些，又急促地说：“没有你在场；小丑什么都不肯说，你愿意帮我吗？”
贝坦毫下犹豫地点了点头。
“太好了！”米斯说：“他的恐惧状态几乎已经定型，我恐怕他的精神耐力无法承受心灵探测器。如果我想从他那里得到任何信息，必须先让他感到绝对的安然自在。你了解吗？”
贝妲又点了点头。
“我带来的这个声光琴，就是我计划中的第一步。他说过他会演奏这种乐器，根据他现在的反应，我们几乎可以确定，这玩意曾经带给他极大的快乐。所以，不论他演奏得是好是坏，你都要显得很有兴趣、很欣赏的样子。然后，你要对我表现出友善和信任。而最重要的一点是，每件事都要看我的眼色行事。”
米斯又很快地瞥了马巨擘一眼，看到他正蜷缩在沙发的一角，熟练而迅速地调整著声光琴的内部机件，一副全神贯注的样子。
米斯恢复了普通交谈的口吻，对贝妲说：“你听过声光琴的演奏吗？”
“只有一次，”贝妲也用很自然的口气回答：“是在一场珍奇乐器演奏会中，但是我并不特别喜欢。”
“嗯，我猜那是因为表演的人不尽理想，如今几乎没什么真正一流的演奏者。比起其他的乐器，比如说多键盘钢琴，这种声光琴并不需要全身上下如何协调，也就并不一定需要灵巧的心智。”然后他压低了声音说：“这就是为什么对面那个皮包骨，可能会演奏得比你我想像中都要好。有过半数的出色演奏家，在其他方面简直就是白痴。心理学之所以这么有意思，就是因为这种古怪的现象还真不少。”
然后，他很明显地想要制造轻松的气氛，又继续卖力地说：“你知道这个怪里怪气的东西用的是什么原理？我特地研究了一下，目前我得到的结论，是它所产生的电磁辐射，根本不需要触及视神经，就可以直接刺激脑部的视觉中枢。事实上，也就是制造出一种原本不存在的感觉。你仔细想想，还真是挺神奇的。至於你听到的音乐，那倒没有什么特别之处，不外是经过耳鼓、耳蜗的作用，但是——嘘！他准备好了，请你踢一下那个开关，在黑暗中效果会更好。”
整个房间顿时陷入一片昏暗，马巨擘看来只是一小团黑影，艾布林•米斯则是带著浓重呼吸声的一大团。贝妲满心期待地瞪大了眼睛，但是起初什么也看下到。空气中只存在著细微纤弱的颤动，音阶毫无规律地越爬越高，在极高处徘徊一阵子之后下降，音量也陡然增高，然后猛扑下来撞碎在地板上，犹如纱窗外响起的一声巨雷。
随著四散进溅的旋律，一个色彩变幻不定的小球渐渐胀大，在半空中爆裂成众多无形的团块，一起盘旋而上，然后再迅速下落，如同花式错综复杂的弧形彩带。接著团块又凝聚成无数颗小珠子，各个珠子的色彩都不相同——到了这个时候，贝妲才终於看出一点名堂。
她发现如果闭起眼睛，彩色的图案反而更加清晰。她叫不出这些色彩的名字，而每颗彩珠的每个小动作都带著特有的节奏。最后，她注意到彩珠其实并不是珠状，而是许多小小的人形。
小小的人形，又好像是小小的火苗，无数的人形在舞蹈，无数的火苗在闪耀，忽而从视线中消失，不一会儿又无端地重现。相互之间不断挪换著位置，然后再聚集起来，幻化成新的色彩。
贝妲不禁想到，晚上如果将眼睛使劲闭起，直到眼睛生疼，再睁开来耐心凝视，就会看到类似的小彩珠。她又联想到一些熟悉的景象——颜色不停变幻的碎花布在面前掠过，许多同心圆同时收缩，还有颤动不已的变形虫等等。只不过如今眼前的景象规模更大，变化更多端——每颗小彩珠都是一个小小的人形。
他们成双成对向她扑来，她吓得倒抽了一口气，赶紧抬起双手。但是他们一个个翻滚开来，不一会儿，贝妲就处身於一阵耀眼的暴风雪中心。冷光跃过她的肩头，如滑雪一般来到她的手臂，再从她僵凝的手指激射出去，在半空中缓缓聚集成珊罅的焦点。除了这些光影之外，还有上百种乐器的旋律，如泉水般淙淙地流过，直到她分辨不出究竟哪些是光影，哪些是乐音。
贝妲很想知道，艾布林•米斯是否也看到了相同的景象，如果不是的话，他看到的又是些什么呢？这个疑问一闪而过，然后——
她又继续凝视著，那些小小的人形——他们真的是小小的人形吗？其中，有许多红发的少女，但是旋转屈身的动作太快了，根本看不清楚。她们一个抓著一个，组成了星形的队形，然后一起开始旋转。音乐变成了模糊的笑声——是女孩们的笑声———开始在贝妲耳中响起。
星形一个一个靠拢，彼此互相照耀，再慢慢地聚合起来——由下而上，一座宫殿迅速形成，每一块砖都是一种特殊的色彩，每一种色彩都闪闪发光，每一道闪光都不断变幻著花样。她的目光遂被引导向上，仰望那二十座镶著宝石的尖塔。
此时，一道光焰激射而出，在半空中回旋飘扬，织成一张无形巨网，将所有的空间网罗在内。从网中又伸出了明灿的细嫩枝条，开始向上生长，在瞬间开枝散叶，每一棵树木都唱出自己的歌。
贝妲就坐在正中央，音乐在她的周围迅疾喷溅，以抒情的步调四散纷飞。她伸出手来，想要触摸面前一棵小树，树上的小穗立即向下飘散，消失得无影无踪，带起一阵清脆悦耳的铃声。
音乐中突然加入了二十个铙钹，同时，一大团火焰在贝妲面前喷涌而出，然后沿著无形的阶梯，一级一级倾泻下来，尽数流向她的裙缘，在那里飞溅并快疾地流开。她的腰肢立时被火红的光芒围绕，裙边升起了一道彩虹桥，桥上有好些小小的人形。
一座宫殿，一座花园，一望无际的彩虹桥，上面有无数小小的男男女女，全都随著弦乐庄严的节奏起舞，最后一起向贝妲拥过来……
接著的变化，似乎先是令人惊讶的停顿，然后又出现了裹足不前的动作，继而是一阵迅速的崩溃。所有的色彩立时远遁，集中成一个旋转的球体，渐渐上升，越缩越小，最后终於消失。
现在，又只剩下了一片黑暗。
米斯伸出大脚探著踏板，然后一脚踩下，明后的光线立刻射进屋内，但那只是平淡无趣的太阳光。贝妲不停地眨著眼睛，直到眼泪淌了出来，她仿佛失去了什么心爱的东西，显得万分依依不舍。
艾布林•米斯矮胖的身躯一动不动，仍然维持著双眼圆瞪、瞠目结舌的表情。
只有马巨擘一个人眉飞色舞，他兴奋地轻哼著歌，抱著声光琴爱不释手。
“我亲爱的女士，”他喘著气说：“这把琴的效果真可说是出神入化，在平衡与响应方面，它的灵敏和稳定几乎超出我的想像。有了这把琴，我简直可以创造奇迹，我亲爱的女士，您喜欢我的作品吗？”
“这是你作的吗？”贝妲小声地说：“你自己作的？”
看到她吃惊的模样，马巨擘的瘦脸不禁涨红了，一直红到长鼻子的尖端。他赶紧说：“货真价实是我自己一个人作的，我亲爱的女士。骡并不喜欢它，可是我常常、常常从这首曲子中自得其乐。那是我小时候，有一次，我看到了一座宫殿——一座巨大的宫殿，外面镶满金银珠宝——我是在嘉年华会的时候，从远远的地方看见的。里头的人穿著华丽无比的衣裳，我作梦也想不到有那么华丽的衣裳，而且每个人都高贵显赫，后来我再也没有见到过那么高贵的人，即使在骡的身边时也没见过。我所作的这个曲子，其实模仿得十分拙劣，可是我的脑子不灵光，不能让我表现得更多更好。我为这首曲子取了个名字，叫作‘天堂的记忆’。”
当马巨擘滔滔不绝的时候，米斯终於回过神来。等到马巨擘说完了，米斯马上问他：“来，来，马巨擘，你愿不愿意为其他人做同样的表演？”
小丑愣了一下，然后退了一步，用发颤的声音说：“为其他人？”
米斯大声说道：“在基地的大型音乐厅，为数千人表演。你愿不愿意做自己的主人，受到众人的尊敬，并且可以赚很多钱，还有……还有……”
他的想像力到此为止了，乾脆就说：“还有一切的一切，啊？你怎么说？”
“但是我又怎么可能做到这些呢？伟大的先生，我只是一个可怜的小丑，世上的好事永远没有我的份。”
心理学家深深吐了一口气，用手背埠笏擦额头上的汗水，又说：“可是你很会表演声光琴啊，老弟。只要你愿意为市长，还有他的联合企业好好表演几场，这个世界就是你的了。你喜不喜欢这个主意？”
小丑很快地瞥了贝妲一眼，又问：“她会陪我一块去吗？”
贝妲笑道：“当然会啦，小傻瓜。你马上就要名利双收了，现在我怎么可能离开你呢？”
“我要全部献给您。”马巨擘认真地答道：“其实，即使将整个银河的财富都献给您，也还不足以报答您的恩情。”
“不过，”米斯故意像是随口说道：“希望你能先帮我一个忙……”
“做什么？”
心理学家顿了一下，然后微笑道：“小小的表层探测器，不会对你造成任何伤害，只会轻轻接触你的大脑表层，其他什么地方都碰下到。”
马巨擘的眼中立刻显露出无比的恐惧：“千万别用探测器，我曾经见过它的厉害，它会把脑浆吸乾，只留下一个空脑壳。骡就是用那种东西对付叛徒，结果那些人全成了行尸走肉，在大街小巷四处游荡，直到骡大发慈悲，把他们杀死为止。”说完，他举起双乎将米斯推开。
“你说的那种是心灵探测器，”米斯耐著性子解释道：“即使是那种探测器，也只有在误用的时候才会造成伤害。我所用的这台是表层探测器，连婴儿也下会受伤。”
“他说得没错，马巨擘，”贝坦劝道：“这样做只是为了对付骡，好让他永远别想接近我们。等把骡解决之后，你我这下半辈子，都能过著荣华富贵的日子。”
马巨擘伸出了抖个不停的右手：“那么，您可不可以抓著我的手？”
贝妲用双手握住他的右手。小丑於是瞪大了眼睛，目不转睛地盯著那对闪闪发光的电极板，向自己的头颅渐渐接近。
在茵德布尔市长私人的起居室中，艾布林•米斯坐在一张过分奢华的椅子上。他仍旧表现得随随便便，对於市长的礼遇一点也不领情。市长今天显得坐立不安，米斯却只是冷眼盯著矮小的市长，一点都没有表现出同情他的意思。
米斯将抽完的雪茄丢到地上，又掏出一根，咬断了尾部，“噗”的一声吐出一团烟丝。
“顺便告诉你，茵德布尔，如果你正在安排下回在马洛大厅举行的音乐会，那么只要把这个瘦小的畸形人找来，叫他为你表演声光琴就行了。你可以把那些演奏电子乐器的人，全都踢回臭水沟里头。我告诉你，茵德布尔，那简直不像是人间的音乐。”
茵德布尔不高兴地说：“我把你找来，不是要请你为我上音乐课的。骡的底细究竟如何？我要听的是这个，骡的底细究竟如何？”
“骡啊？这个嘛，我会告诉你的——我使用了表层探测器，不过只得到一点点资料。我根本不能用心灵探测器，那个畸形人对心灵探测器有盲目的恐惧感，如果硬要使用的话，一旦电极接触到他，所产生的排斥也许缓箢他XXX的精神崩溃。无论如何，我带来了一点消息——请你别再敲指甲好下好——
“首先，我们不用过分强调骡的体能。他也许很强壮，不过那个畸形人所说的关於这方面的神话，也许被他自己的恐怖记忆放大了很多倍。据说骡戴著一副古怪的眼镜，他的眼睛能杀人，这很明显地表示他具有超人的精神力量。”
“这些我们早就知道了。”市长不耐烦地说。
“那么采测器证实了这一点。然后从这里出发，我开始用数学来推导。”
“所以呢？你要花多久时间？你这样子喋喋不休，我的耳朵快被你吵聋了。”
“据我的估计，大约再一个月，我就可以有些结果告诉你。当然，我也可能无法做到。但是又有什么关系呢？如果这一切都在谢顿的计划之外，那我们的机会简直太小了，真是×××的太小了。”
茵德布尔转向心理学家，恶狠狠地说道：“你骗人：你这个叛徒，现在给我逮到狐狸尾巴了。你还敢说你跟那些制造谣言的坏蛋不是一夥儿的？你们散播失败主义，搞得基地人心惶惶，让我的工作加倍困难。”
“我？我？”米斯的怒火也渐渐升了起来。
茵德布尔对著他赌咒：“星际尘云在上，基地将会胜利的——基地一定会胜利的！”
“纵使我们在侯里哥吃了败仗？”
“那不是吃败仗，你也相信那些满天飞的谎言吗？那是由於我们兵力悬殊，而且内部还有人叛变……”
“是什么人煽动叛变？”米斯以轻蔑的口气问道。
“就是贫民窟里那些满身虱子的民主分子。”菌德布尔回敬他一阵大吼：“民主分子的细胞渗透进了舰队，他们简直无孔不入，这件事我很早以前就知道了。虽然大部分的细胞都被铲除了，但是难免有漏网之鱼，这就足以解释为什么会有二十艘船舰，竟然在会战的最高潮突然投降。也就是因为这样，我们才会被打败的。
“所以说，你这个出言不逊、举止粗野、头脑简单的所谓爱国者，你跟那些民主分子到底有什么牵连？”
艾布林•米斯却只是耸耸肩，自顾自地说：“你这是在胡说八道，你知道吗？那么后来的撤退又怎么说呢？西维纳又怎么会沦陷了一半？也都是民主分子的杰作吗？”
“不，不足民主分子。”小蚌子的市长尖声笑道：“是我们主动撤退——过去基地每逢遭到攻击，一律都会以退为进，直到历史不可抗拒的发展，变得对我们有利为止。事实上，我已经看到了结果。由民主分子组成的所谓‘地下组织’，已经发表了一项声明，宣誓要和政府联合行动，枪口一致对外。这可能是一个阴谋，为了掩护另一个更高明的诡计，但是我却可以将计就计，不论那些混帐叛徒打的是什么主意，这项联合行动可以大肆宣传一番。更好的是……”
“更好的是什么，茵德布尔？”
“你自己想想看——就在两天以前，所谓的‘独立行商协会’已经向骡宣战，因此，基地的舰队一口气就增加了千艘星舰。你懂了吧，这个骡做得太过分了，他趁著我们内部分裂不和的时候，想要坐收渔翁之利，可是面对他的来犯，我们却再度团结起来，再度变得强大无比。他最后非输不可，这是不可抗拒的——历史总是如此发展。”
米斯仍然透著怀疑：　“那么你的意思是说，谢顿甚趾蟋无法预料的突变种也考虑到了。”
“突变种！我看不出他和人类有什么不同，你也不可能看得出来。我们听到的，只有一个叛变的上尉、两个异邦年轻人，还有一个笨头笨脑的小丑，这四个人的胡说八道而已。你忘记了最有力、最重要的证据——你自己的证据。”
“我自己的？”米斯顿时吃了一惊。
“你自己的——”市长嘲笑道：“你说过，再过九个星期，谢顿就要在穹窿中　出现了，这代表什么？代表将有一个危机。如果骡发动的攻击不算是真正的危机，　那么又是真正的危机呢？谢顿又为什么要出现？回答我，你这个大肉球。”
心理学家又耸耸肩：“好吧，如果这样想，能够让你心安的话。不过，请你帮个忙 ，为了预防万一……万一老谢顿发表了演说，结果却出乎我们意料之外——请你让我也出席这个集会。”
“好吧，现在你可以滚了。这九个星期之中，别让我再看到你。”
“我×××的求之不得，你这个又乾又瘪的大爬虫。”米斯一面走，一面喃喃自语。
18. FALL OF THE FOUNDATION


There was an atmosphere about the Time Vault that just missed definition in several directions at once. It was not one of decay, for it was well-lit and well-conditioned, with the color scheme of the walls lively, and the rows of fixed chairs comfortable and apparently designed for eternal use. It was not even ancient, for three centuries had left no obvious mark. There was certainly no effort at the creation of awe or reverence, for the appointments were simple and everyday ?next door to bareness, in fact.

Yet after all the negatives were added and the sum disposed of, something was left ?and that something centered about the glass cubicle that dominated half the room with its clear emptiness. Four times in three centuries, the living simulacrum of Hari Seldon himself had sat there and spoken. Twice he had spoken to no audience.

Through three centuries and nine generations, the old man who had seen the great days of universal empire projected himself ?and still he understood more of the Galaxy of his great-ultra-great-grandchildren, than did those grandchildren themselves.

Patiently that empty cubicle waited.

The first to arrive was Mayor Indbur III, driving his ceremonial ground car through the hushed and anxious streets. Arriving with him was his own chair, higher than those that belonged there, and wider. It was placed before all the others, and Indbur dominated all but the empty glassiness before him.

The solemn official at his left bowed a reverent head. "Excellence, arrangements are completed for the widest possible sub-etheric spread for the official announcement by your excellence tonight."

"Good. Meanwhile, special interplanetary programs concerning the Time Vault are to continue. There will, of course, be no predictions or speculations of any sort on the subject. Does popular reaction continue satisfactory?"

"Excellence, very much so. The vicious rumors prevailing of late have decreased further. Confidence is widespread."

"Good!" He gestured the man away and adjusted his elaborate neckpiece to a nicety.

It was twenty minutes of noon!

A select group of the great props of the mayoralty ?the leaders of the great Trading organizations ?appeared in ones and twos with the degree of pomp appropriate to their financial status and place in mayoral favor. Each presented himself to the mayor, received a gracious word or two, took an assigned seat.

Somewhere, incongruous among the stilted ceremony of all this, Randu of Haven made his appearance and wormed his way unannounced to the mayor's seat.

"Excellence!" he muttered, and bowed.

Indbur frowned. "You have not been granted an audience. "

"Excellence, I have requested one for a week."

"I regret that the matters of State involved in the appearance of Seldon have?

"Excellence, I regret them, too, but I must ask you to rescind your order that the ships of the Independent Traders be distributed among the fleets of the Foundation."

Indbur had flushed red at the interruption. "This is not the time for discussion."

"Excellence, it is the only time," Randu whispered urgently. "As representative of the Independent Trading Worlds, I tell you such a move can not be obeyed. It must be rescinded before Seldon solves our problem for us. Once the emergency is passed, it will be too late to conciliate and our alliance will melt away."

Indbur stared at Randu coldly. "You realize that I am head of the Foundation armed forces? Have I the right to determine military policy or have I not?"

"Excellence, you have, but some things are inexpedient."

"I recognize no inexpediency. It is dangerous to allow your people separate fleets in this emergency. Divided action plays into the hands of the enemy. We must unite, ambassador, militarily as well as politically."

Randu felt his throat muscles tighten. He omitted the courtesy of the opening title. "You feet safe now that Seldon will speak, and you move against us. A month ago you were soft and yielding, when our ships defeated the Mule at Terel. I might remind you, sir, that it is the Foundation Fleet that has been defeated in open battle five times, and that the ships of the Independent Trading Worlds have won your victories for you."

Indbur frowned dangerously, "You are no longer welcome upon Terminus, ambassador. Your return will be requested this evening. Furthermore, your connection with subversive democratic forces on Terminus will be ?and has been ?investigated."

Randu replied, "When I leave, our ships will go with me. I know nothing of your democrats. I know only that your Foundation's ships have surrendered to the Mule by the treason of their high officers, not their sailors, democratic or otherwise. I tell you that twenty ships of the Foundation surrendered at Horleggor at the orders of their rear admiral, when they were unharmed and unbeaten. The rear admiral was your own close associate ?he presided at the trial of my nephew when he first arrived from Kalgan. It is not the only case we know of and our ships and men will not be risked under potential traitors.

Indbur said, "You will be placed under guard upon leaving here."

Randu walked away under the silent stares of the contemptuous coterie of the rulers of Terminus.

It was ten minutes of twelve!

Bayta and Toran had already arrived. They rose in their back seats and beckoned to Randu as he passed.

Randu smiled gently, "You are here after all. How did you work it?"

"Magnifico was our politician," grinned Toran. "Indbur insists upon his Visi-Sonor composition based on the Time Vault, with himself, no doubt, as hero. Magnifico refused to attend without us, and there was no arguing him out of it. Ebling Mis is with us, or was. He's wandering about somewhere." Then, with a sudden access of anxious gravity, "Why, what's wrong, uncle? You don't look well."

Randu nodded, "I suppose not. We're in for bad times, Toran. When the Mule is disposed of, our turn will come, I'm afraid. "

A straight solemn figure in white approached, and greeted them with a stiff bow.

Bayta's dark eyes smiled, as she held out her hand, "Captain Pritcher! Are you on space duty then?"

The captain took the hand and bowed lower, "Nothing like it. Dr. Mis, I understand, has been instrumental in bringing me here, but it's only temporary. Back to home guard tomorrow. What time is it?"

It was three minutes of twelve!

Magnifico was the picture of misery and heartsick depression. His body curled up, in his eternal effort at self-effacement. His long nose was pinched at the nostrils and his large, down-slanted eyes darted uneasily about.

He clutched at Bayta's hand, and when she bent down, he whispered, "Do you suppose, my lady, that all these great ones were in the audience, perhaps, when I ... when I played the Visi-Sonor?"

"Everyone, I'm sure," Bayta assured him, and shook him gently. "And I'm sure they all think you're the most wonderful player in the Galaxy and that your concert was the greatest ever seen, so you just straighten yourself and sit correctly. We must have dignity."

He smiled feebly at her mock-frown and unfolded his long-boned limbs slowly.

It was noon ?and the glass cubicle was no longer empty.

It was doubtful that anyone had witnessed the appearance. It was a clean break; one moment not there and the next moment there.

In the cubicle was a figure in a wheelchair, old and shrunken, from whose wrinkled face bright eyes shone, and whose voice, as it turned out, was the livest thing about him. A book lay face downward in his lap, and the voice came softly.

"I am Hari Seldon!"

He spoke through a silence, thunderous in its intensity.

"I am Hari Seldon! I do not know if anyone is here at all by mere sense-perception but that is unimportant. I have few fears as yet of a breakdown in the Plan. For the first three centuries the percentage probability of nondeviation is nine-four point two."

He paused to smile, and then said genially, "By the way, if any of you are standing, you may sit. If any would like to smoke, please do. I am not here in the flesh. I require no ceremony.

"Let us take up the problem of the moment, then. For the first time, the Foundation has been faced, or perhaps, is in the last stages of facing, civil war. Till now, the attacks from without have been adequately beaten off, and inevitably so, according to the strict laws of psychohistory. The attack at present is that of a too-undisciplined outer group of the Foundation against the too-authoritarian central government. The procedure was necessary, the result obvious."

The dignity of the high-born audience was beginning to break. Indbur was half out of his chair.

Bayta leaned forward with troubled eyes. What was the great Seldon talking about? She had missed a few of the words?

"杢hat the compromise worked out is necessary in two respects. The revolt of the Independent Traders introduces an element of new uncertainty in a government perhaps grown over-confident. The element of striving is restored. Although beaten, a healthy increase of democracy?

There were raised voices now. Whispers had ascended the scale of loudness, and the edge of panic was in them.

Bayta said in Toran's ear, "Why doesn't he talk about the Mule? The Traders never revolted."

Toran shrugged his shoulders.

The seated figure spoke cheerfully across and through the increasing disorganization:

"朼 new and firmer coalition government was the necessary and beneficial outcome of the logical civil war forced upon the Foundation. And now only the remnants of the old Empire stand in the way of further expansion, and in them, for the next few years, at any rate, is no problem. Of course, I can not reveal the nature of the next prob?

In the complete uproar, Seldon's lips moved soundlessly.

Ebling Mis was next to Randu, face ruddy. He was shouting. "Seldon is off his rocker. He's got the wrong crisis. Were your Traders ever planning civil war?"

Randu said thinly, "We planned one, yes. We called it off in the face of the Mule."

"Then the Mule is an added feature, unprepared for in Seldon's psychohistory. Now what's happened?"

In the sudden, frozen silence, Bayta found the cubicle once again empty. The nuclear glow of the walls was dead, the soft current of conditioned air absent.

Somewhere the sound of a shrill siren was rising and falling in the scale and Randu formed the words with his lips, "Space raid!"

And Ebling Mis held his wrist watch to his ears and shouted suddenly, "Stopped, by the "Ga-LAX-y, is there a watch in the room that is going?" His voice was a roar.

Twenty wrists went to twenty ears. And in far less than twenty seconds, it was quite certain that none were.

"Then," said Mis, with a grim and horrible finality, "something has stopped all nuclear power in the Time Vault ?and the Mule is attacking."

Indbur's wail rose high above the noise, "Take your seats! The Mule is fifty parsecs distant."

"He was," shouted back Mis, "a week ago. Right now, Terminus is being bombarded."

Bayta felt a deep depression settle softly upon her. She felt its folds tighten close and thick, until her breath forced its way only with pain past her tightened throat.

The outer noise of a gathering crowd was evident. The doors were thrown open and a harried figure entered, and spoke rapidly to Indbur, who had rushed to him.

"Excellence," he whispered, "not a vehicle is running in the city, not a communication line to the outside is open.

The Tenth Fleet is reported defeated and the Mule's ships are outside the atmosphere. The general staff?

Indbur crumpled, and was a collapsed figure of impotence upon the floor. In all that hall, not a voice was raised now. Even the growing crowd without was fearful, but silent, and the horror of cold panic hovered dangerously.

Indbur was raised. Wine was held to his lips. His lips moved before his eyes opened, and the word they formed was, "Surrender!"

Bayta found herself near to crying ?not for sorrow or humiliation, but simply and plainly out of a vast frightened despair. Ebling Mis plucked at her sleeve. "Come, young lady?

She was pulled out of her chair, bodily.

"We're leaving," he said, "and take your musician with you." The plump scientist's lips were trembling and colorless.

"Magnifico," said Bayta, faintly. The clown shrank in horror. His eyes were glassy.

"The Mule," he shrieked. "The Mule is coming for me."

He thrashed wildly at her touch. Toran leaned over and brought his fist up sharply. Magnifico slumped into unconsciousness and Toran carried him out potato-sack fashion.

The next day, the ugly, battle-black ships of the Mule poured down upon the landing fields of the planet Terminus. The attacking general sped down the empty main street of Terminus City in a foreign-made ground car that ran where a whole city of atomic cars still stood useless.

The proclamation of occupation was made twenty-four hours to the minute after Seldon had appeared before the former mighty of the Foundation.

Of all the Foundation planets, only the Independent Traders still stood, and against them the power of the Mule ?conqueror of the Foundation ?now turned itself.




第十八章 基地陷落
　　穹窿中有一种奇怪的气氛，但是从各个角度都很难加以精确地形容。一来不能说它年久失修，因为穹窿的内部照明充足，各方面都维修得很好，墙壁上的彩色壁画栩栩如生，一排排固定的座位看起来宽敞舒适，并且显然是为了永久使用所设计的。二来也不能说它陈旧，因为三个世纪的光阴，并未在其中留下任何显著的痕迹。而穹窿的设计，也完全没有刻意要使人产生敬畏或虔诚的情绪，因为仅有的装潢设备都简单朴素，事实上，几乎可说没有什么陈设。
将所有难以描述的情状排除之后，最后只有一点诡异的气氛剩下来，它来自占了穹窿一半面积、显然空无一物的玻璃室。过去三个世纪以来，哈里•谢顿活生生的影象出现了四次，就是坐在那里侃侃而谈。不过其中有两次，完全没有任何听众出席他的演说。
三个世纪过去了，总共历经了九个世代，这位曾经目睹帝国昔日光荣的老人，一次又一次出现在穹窿中。直到现在，他对於今日银河局势的了解与认识，仍旧犹在他的后代子孙之上。
这个空无的玻璃室，在时间的长河中耐心地等待著。
市长茵德布尔三世坐在私人礼车中，穿过了静寂而透著不安的街道，比任何人都先来到穹窿。跟他一起到达的还有他的专用座椅，这个座椅比室内原有的座位都高出许多，并且更为宽大。茵德布尔命令属下将他的座椅放在最前面，这样一来，除了管不到面前空空如也的玻璃室之外，他可以掌握住全场的局势。
此时，站在市长左方一名表情严肃的官员，对市长恭敬地低头行礼，然后报告说：“市长阁下，您今晚将要进行的正式宣布，我们已经安排好了范围最广的次以太广播。”
“很好！此外，介绍穹窿的星际特别节目要继续播出，当然，其中不可以有任何的臆测或预测。大众的反应仍旧很满意吗？”
“市长阁下，反应相当好。原先盛行一时的邪恶谣言，已经又消退了不少。如今，大众的信心普遍都已恢复。”
“很好！”市长做了一个手势，示意那名官员退下，然后随手调整了一下考究的领带。
距离正午还有二十分钟！
随后，由市长的拥护者中精挑细选出来的代表团——各大行商组织的重要负责人——也三三两两地走进了穹窿。他们根据各自财富的多寡，以及在市长心目中的地位，而各有不同程度的豪华排场。这些大人物来到穹窿之后，第一件事就是驱前向市长问安，领受市长一两句亲切的招呼，然后再坐到指定的座位去。
此时，在穹窿的某处，突然出了一点状况，破坏了现场矫揉造作的气氛——来自赫汶的蓝度从人群中慢慢挤出来，不请自来地走到市长的座椅前。
”市长阁下！”他轻声地说，同时行了一个鞠躬礼。
茵德布尔皱起了眉头：“没有人批准你来晋见我。”
“市长阁下，我在一周以前就已经开始申请了。”
“我很遗憾，但是与谢顿现身有关的国家大事，使得……”
“市长阁下，我也感到很遗憾。但是，你下的那个命令，要将独立行商的星舰混编在基地舰队中，我必须请你将它撤回。”
茵德布尔由於自己的话被打断，气得满脸通红。他怒吼道…“现在不是讨论问题的时候。”
“市长阁下，这是我唯一能见到你的机会。”蓝度细声而急切地说：“作为独立行商世界的全权代表，我有责任要告诉你，对於这项要求我们恕难从命。你一定要赶紧撤销这个命令，要赶在谢顿帮我们解决我们之间的问题以前。一旦紧张的局势不再，到时候再想要安抚就太迟了，我们的联盟关系缓螈刻瓦解。”　茵德布尔以冷漠的目光瞪著蓝度：“你知不知道我是基地的最高军事统帅？我到底有没有军事政策的决定权？”
“市长阁下，你当然有，但是你的决定有不当之处。”
“我没有察觉到任何不当之处，在这种紧要关头，允许你的人马单独行动是很危险的事，这样会正中敌人下怀。我们必须团结，大使，不论是军事方面或政治方面都要团结。”
蓝度感觉自己的喉咙几乎哽住了，他省略了对市长的敬称，脱口说道：“因为谢顿马上就要现身，所以你就感到安全无虞，就准备要开始对付我们了。一个月以前，当我们的星舰在泰瑞尔击败骡的时候，你还表现得既软弱又听话。我该提醒你，市长先生，在会战中连吃了五次败仗的，是基地的星际舰队，而为你打了几场胜仗的，却是独立行商世界的星舰。”
茵德布尔阴沈沈地皱著眉说：“大使，你已经是端点星不受欢迎的人物，我限你在今天傍晚之前离境。此外，你跟端点星上从事颠覆活动的民主分子必有牵连，这一点，我们会……我们其实已经调查过了。”
蓝度回嘴道：“当我走的时候，我们的星舰都会跟我一起离去。我对你们的民主分子一无所知，我只知道，你们基地的船舰之所以会向骡投降，是由於高级军官的叛变，姑且不论他们是不是民主分子，总之那不是舰员的主意。我告诉你，在侯里哥那场战役中，基地的二十艘船舰，根本还没有遭到任何攻击，就由少将指挥官下令投降。那名少将还是你自己的亲信——当我的侄子从卡尔根来到基地时，他的审判就是由那名少将主持的。这只不过是我们所知的许多例子之一，基地的舰队充满了潜在的叛变，我们的星舰和战亡绝对不要冒这种险。”
茵德布尔说：“在你离境之前，全程都会有警卫监视你。”
在端点星高傲的统治阶层众目之下，蓝度一声不响地走了开。
距离正午还有十分钟！
贝妲与杜伦也已经来到穹窿，坐在最后几排，他们看到蓝度经过，赶紧起身和他打招呼。
蓝度对他们温和地微笑道：“你们毕竟还是来了，究竟是如何争取到的？”
“马巨擘是我们的谈判代表。”杜伦笑著回答：“茵德布尔一定要他以穹窿为主题，作一首声光琴的乐曲，当然，要以茵德布尔自己为主角。马巨擘说，如果没有我们作伴，他今天就不肯出席，不论怎么说、怎么劝他都不肯妥协。艾布林•米斯也跟我们一道来了，现在却不知道跑到哪里去。”
然后，杜伦突然一本正经地焦急问道：“怎么啦，叔叔，有什么不对劲？你看来不大舒服。”
蓝度点点头：“没错。我们加入得不是时候，杜伦，当骡被解决之后，只怕就要轮到我们了。”
此时，一位穿著白色制服、刚直严肃的身形走了过来，向他们三人行了一个俐落的鞠躬礼。
贝妲的黑眼珠顿时后了起来，伸出手来说：“普利吉上尉！你又恢复了太空勤务？”
上尉握住她的手，弯著腰说道：“没有这回事，我知道是由於米斯博士的帮助，我今天才有出席的机会。不过我这趟只能出来一下子，明天就要回地方义勇军报到——现在什么时间了？”
距离正午还有三分钟！
现在马巨擘脸上的表情，掺杂著悲惨、苦恼与沮丧。他的身子又缩成了一团，仿佛尽力想使自己从空气中消失；长鼻子的鼻孔皱缩起来，凝视地面的眼睛则不安地左右游栘。
他突然抓住了贝姐的手，贝妲弯下腰来，他低声对她说：“我亲爱的女士，当我…… 当我表演声光琴的时候，您想，这么多伟大的人物，都会是我的听众吗？”
“我可以确定，每一个人都不会错过。”贝妲向他保证，并且轻轻地摇著他的手：“我还可以确定，大家都会公认你是全银河最杰出的演奏家，他们一定没有观赏过更好的演奏会。所以你要抬头挺胸，把姿势坐端正，我们得有名家的架式。”
说完，贝妲故意对他皱皱眉头。马巨擘回以微微一笑，同时缓缓地将细长的四肢舒展开来。
正午时分到了——玻璃室也不再空无一物。
很难想像有谁目睹了影象是如何出现的，因为这是一个迅疾无比的变化，前一刻什么都还没有，下一刻就已经在那里了。
在玻璃室中，现在出现了一个坐在轮椅上的人，他年迈而且全身萎缩，膝头上覆著一本书，满布皱纹的脸上透出的目光仍然炯炯有神。当他开始说话的时候，充满精神的声音与他的老态极不调和。
他的声音轻柔地传出来：“我是哈里•谢顿！”
在一片鸦雀无声中，他开始以洪后的声音说：“我是哈里•谢顿！光凭感觉，我无法知道现在有没有人在这里，不过这没有关系。直到目前为止，我还不太担心计划会出问题，在最初的三个世纪，计划毫无偏差的机率是十分之九百四十二。”　他顿了顿，微笑了一下，然后再以亲切和蔼的口气说：　“对了，如果有人站著的话，可以坐下了，如果有谁想抽烟也请便吧。我的肉身根本不在这里，大家不必拘泥形式。
“现在，让我们来讨论一下如今的问题。这是基地第一次面对——或者是即将面对一场内战。到目前为止，外来的威胁几乎已经消灭殆尽——根据心理史学严格的定律，这是一个必然的结果。基地如今所面临的危机，是地方上那些过分不守纪律的团体，对抗过分极权的基地中央政府。这是一个必要的过程，而结果则至为明显。”
在座的所有达官贵人，他们做作出来的威严神气已经开始松动，茵德布尔则几乎要站了起来。
贝坦身子向前倾，露出了困惑的眼神。她想，伟大的谢顿究竟在说些什么？结果这一分神，她就漏听了几句话。
“……达成妥协，满足了两方面的需要。独立行商的叛乱，为这个也许变得太过自信的政府，引进一个新的不确定因素，使得基地重新拾回奋斗的精神。独立行商虽然被打败，却增进了民主的健全发展……”
现在室内交头接耳的人越来越多，耳语的音量也不断升高，大家都不禁开始感到恐惧。
贝妲咬著杜伦的耳朵说：“他为什么不提到骡？行商根本没有要叛乱。”
杜伦的反应只是耸耸肩。
在逐渐升高的混乱中，坐著的人形继续兴高采烈地说：“……基地被迫进行这场内战之后，一个新的、更坚强的联合政府是必然的正面结果。然后，只剩下旧帝国的残余势力，可能阻挡基地继续扩张。但是在未来的几年内，那些残余势力无论如何不会构成问题。当然，我不能透露下一个危机的……”
谢顿的嘴唇仍然动个不停，但是声音被全场的喧嚣完全掩盖。
艾布林•米靳此时正站在蓝度身边，他的脸涨得通红，拼命大吼道：“谢顿疯啦，他把危机搞错了，你们行商曾经计划过内战吗？”
蓝度低声回答道：“没错，我们曾经计划过，是因为骡才取消的。”
“那么这个骡是一个新添的因素，谢顿的心理史学无法预见——怎么回事？”
穹窿中的骚动陡然间完全消失，贝妲发现玻璃室又恢复了空空如也的状态，墙壁上的核能照明全部失灵，空调设备也部不再运转。
刺耳的警报声不知在何处响起，音调忽高忽低不停地交错。蓝度的口唇喃喃蠕动著，他说的是：“太空空袭！”
艾布林•米斯将腕表贴近眼睛，突然大叫一声：“停了，我的老天——啊！这里有谁的手表还会走？”他的叫声有如雷鸣。
立时有二十只手腕贴近二十对眼睛，不到几秒钟就已确定答案全都是否定的。
“这么说的话，”米斯下了一个骇人听闻的结论：“有什么东西让穹窿中的核能消失了——是骡打来啦！”
市长哽咽的声音盖过了全场的嘈杂：“大家坐好！骡还在五十秒差距之外。”
“那是一个星期之前，”米斯吼了回去：“如今，端点星正遭受空袭！”
贝妲突然感到心中浮起一阵深沈的沮丧，她感觉这个情绪将自己紧紧缠住，直缠得她的喉咙生疼，几乎喘不过气来。
外面群众的喧闹声已经清晰可闻，穹窿的门突然被推开，一个愁眉苦脸的人闯了进来，茵德布尔一口气就冲到那人面前。
那人急促小声地对市长说：“市长阁下，全市的交通工具都动弹不得，对外的通讯线路也全部中断，第十舰队据报已被击溃，骡的舰队已经来到大气层外，参谋们……”
茵德布尔听到这里，突然两眼一翻，如烂泥一般倒在地板上。现在穹窿内又是一片鸦雀无声，外面惊惶的群众越聚越多，却也个个紧闭著嘴巴，凝重的恐惧气氛顿时在各处弥漫。
部下很快就把茵德布尔扶了起来，将葡萄酒灌进他的嘴里。市长的眼睛还没来得及张开，嘴唇就已经开始蠕动，冒出了一句话：“投降！”
贝妲感到自己几乎要哭出来———并非是由於悲伤或屈辱，只是单纯地出於可怕至极的绝望。艾布林•米斯上前拉扯著她的袖子，说：“小姐，快走！”
她整个人从座位中被拉了起来。
“我们要赶紧逃走，”米斯说：“带著那个音乐家一块走。”肥胖的科学家紧张得嘴唇泛白，还不停地拼命打颤。
“马巨擘！”贝妲有气无力地叫道。
小丑吓得缩成一团，失神的双眼活像两颗玻璃珠子。他尖叫道：“骡——骡来抓我了！”
贝妲伸手要拉他，马巨擘却用力挣脱，杜伦见势赶紧趋上前，猛然一举挥了出去。马巨擘立刻应声倒地不省人事，杜伦将他扛在肩头就走，好像是扛著一袋马铃薯。
第二天，骡的星舰尽数降落在端点星各个著陆场上，每艘星舰都漆成深黑的保护色，看起来丑陋无比。端点市的核能交通工具仍旧全部停摆。指挥进攻的将军坐在自己的车中，在市内空无一人的大街上奔驰。
就在二十四小时之前，谢顿出现在基地原来的统治者面前；如今，二十四小时之后，骡发布了攻占基地的宣告，连一分钟也不差。
在基地体系内的所有行星，只剩下独立行商世界仍在顽强抵抗。而骡成为基地的征服者之后，箭头随即转向那些独立行商。
19. START OF THE SEARCH


The lonely planet, Haven ?only planet of an only sun of a Galactic Sector that trailed raggedly off into intergalactic vacuum ?was under siege.

In a strictly military sense, it was certainly under siege, since no area of space on the Galactic side further than twenty parsecs distance was outside range of the Mule's advance bases. In the four months since the shattering fall of the Foundation, Haven's communications had fallen apart like a spiderweb under the razor's edge. The ships of Haven converged inwards upon the home world, and only Haven itself was now a fighting base.

And in other respects, the siege was even closer; for the shrouds of helplessness and doom had already invaded

Bayta plodded her way down the pink-waved aisle past the rows of milky plastic-topped tables and found her seat by blind reckoning. She eased on to the high, armless chair, answered half-heard greetings mechanically, rubbed a wearily-itching eye with the back of a weary hand, and reached for her menu.

She had time to register a violent mental reaction of distaste to the pronounced presence of various cultured-fungus dishes, which were considered high delicacies at Haven, and which her Foundation taste found highly inedible ?and then she was aware of the sobbing near her and looked up.

Until then, her notice of Juddee, the plain, snub-nosed, indifferent blonde at the dining unit diagonally across had been the superficial one of the nonacquaintance. And now Juddee was crying, biting woefully at a moist handkerchief, and choking back sobs until her complexion was blotched with turgid red. Her shapeless radiation-proof costume was thrown back upon her shoulders, and her transparent face shield had tumbled forward into her dessert, and there remained.

Bayta joined the three girls who were taking turns at the eternally applied and eternally inefficacious remedies of shoulder-patting, hair-smoothing, and incoherent murmuring.

"What's the matter?" she whispered.

One turned to her and shrugged a discreet, "I don't know." Then, feeling the inadequacy of the gesture, she pulled Bayta aside.

"She's had a hard day, I guess. And she's worrying about her husband."

"Is he on space patrol?"

"Yes".

Bayta reached a friendly hand out to Juddee.

"Why don't you go home, Juddee?" Her voice was a cheerfully businesslike intrusion on the soft, flabby inanities that had preceded.

Juddee looked up half in resentment. "I've been out once this week already?

"Then you'll be out twice. If you try to stay on, you know, you'll just be out three days next week ?so going home now amounts to patriotism. Any of you girls work in her department? Well, then, suppose you take care of her card. Better go to the washroom first, Juddee, and get the peaches and cream back where it belongs. Go ahead! Shoo!"

Bayta returned to her seat and took up the menu again with a dismal relief. These moods were contagious. One weeping girl would have her entire department in a frenzy these nerve-torn days.

She made a distasteful decision, pressed the correct buttons at her elbow and put the menu back into its niche.

The tall, dark girl opposite her was saying, "Isn't much any of us can do except cry, is there?"

Her amazingly full lips scarcely moved, and Bayta noticed that their ends were carefully touched to exhibit that artificial, just-so half-smile that was the current last word in sophistication. 

Bayta investigated the insinuating thrust contained in the words with lashed eyes and welcomed the diversion of the arrival of her lunch, as the tile-top of her unit moved inward and the food lifted. She tore the wrappings carefully off her cutlery and handled them gingerly till they cooled.

She said, "Can't you think of anything else to do, Hella?"

"Oh, yes," said Hella. "I can!" She flicked her cigarette with a casual and expert finger-motion into the little recess provided and the tiny flash caught it before it hit shallow bottom.

"For instance," and Hella clasped slender, well-kept hands under her chin, "I think we could make a very nice arrangement with the Mule and stop all this nonsense. But then I don't have the ... uh ... facilities to manage to get out of places quickly when the Mule takes over."

Bayta's clear forehead remained clear. Her voice was light and indifferent. "You don't happen to have a brother or husband in the fighting ships, do you?"

"No. All the more credit that I see no reason for the sacrifice of the brothers and husbands of others."

"The sacrifice will come the more surely for surrender."

"The Foundation surrendered and is at peace. Our men are away and the Galaxy is against us."

Bayta shrugged, and said sweetly, "I'm afraid it is the first of the pair that bothers you." She returned to her vegetable platter and ate it with the clammy realization of the silence about her. No one in ear-shot had cared to answer Hella's cynicism.

She left quickly, after stabbing at the button which cleared her dining unit for the next shift's occupant.

A new girl, three seats away, stage-whispered to Hella, "Who was she?"

Hella's mobile lips curled in indifference. "She's our coordinator's niece. Didn't you know that?"

"Yes?" Her eyes sought out the last glimpse of disappearing back. "What's she doing here?"

"Just an assembly girl. Don't you know it's fashionable to be patriotic? It's all so democratic, it makes me retch."

"Now, Hella," said the plump girl to her right. "She's never pulled her uncle on us yet. Why don't you lay off?"

Hella ignored her neighbor with a glazed sweep of eyes and lit another cigarette.

The new girl was listening to the chatter of the bright-eyed accountant opposite. The words were coming quickly,

"朼nd she's supposed to have been in the Vault ?actually in the Vault, you know ?when Seldon spoke ?and they say the mayor was in frothing furies and there were riots, and all of that sort of thing, you know. She got away before the Mule landed, and they say she had the most tha-rilling escape ?had to go through the blockade, and all ?and I do wonder she doesn't write a book about it, these war books being so popular these days, you know. And she was supposed to be on this world of the Mule's, too ?Kalgan, you know ?and?

The time bell shrilled and the dining room emptied slowly. The accountant's voice buzzed on, and the new girl interrupted only with the conventional and wide-eyed, "Really-yyyyy?" at appropriate points.

The huge cave lights were being shielded group-wise in the gradual descent towards the darkness that meant sleep for the righteous and hard-working, when Bayta returned home.

Toran met her at the door, with a slice of buttered bread in his hand.

"Where've you been?" he asked, food-muffled. Then, more clearly, "I've got a dinner of sorts rassled up. If it isn't much, don't blame me."

But she was circling him, wide-eyed. "Torie! Where's your uniform? What are you doing in civvies?"

"Orders, Bay. Randu is holed up with Ebling Mis right now, and what it's all about, I don't know. So there you have everything."

"Am I going?" She moved towards him impulsively.

He kissed her before he answered, "I believe so. It will probably be dangerous."

"What isn't dangerous?"

"Exactly. Oh, yes, and I've already sent for Magnifico, so he's probably coming too."

"You mean his concert at the Engine Factory will have to be cancelled."

"Obviously."

Bayta passed into the next room and sat down to a meal that definitely bore signs of having been "rassled-up." She cut the sandwiches in two with quick efficiency and said:

"That's too bad about the concert. The girls at the factory were looking forward to it. Magnifico, too, for that matter." She shook her head. "He's such a queer thing."

"Stirs your mother-complex, Bay, that's what he does. Some day we'll have a baby, and then you'll forget Magnifico."

'Bayta answered from the depths of her sandwich, "Strikes me that you're all the stirring my mother-complex can stand."

And then she laid the sandwich down, and was gravely serious in a moment.

"Torie."

"M-m-m?"

"Torie, I was at City Hall today ?at the Bureau of Production. That is why I was so late today."

"What were you doing there?"

"Well..." she hesitated, uncertainly. "It's been building up. I was getting so I couldn't stand it at the factory. Morale just doesn't exist. The girls go on crying jags for no particular reason. Those who don't get sick become sullen. Even the little mousie types pout. In my particular section, production isn't a quarter what it was when I came, and there isn't a day that we have a full roster of workers."

"All right," said Toran, "tie in the B. of P. What did you do there?"

"Asked a few questions. And it's so, Torie, it's so all over Haven. Dropping production, increasing sedition and disaffection. The bureau chief just shrugged his shoulders ?after I had sat in the anteroom an hour to see him, and only got in because I was the co-ordinator's niece ?and said it was beyond him. Frankly, I don't think he cared."

"Now, don't go off base, Bay."

"I don't think he did." She was strenuously fiery. "I tell you there's something wrong. It's that same horrible frustration that hit me in the Time Vault when Seldon deserted us. You felt it yourself."

"Yes, I did."

"Well, it's back," she continued savagely. "And we'll never be able to resist the Mule. Even if we had the material, we lack the heart, the spirit, the will ?Torie, there's no use fighting?

Bayta had never cried in Toran's memory, and she did not cry now. Not really. But Toran laid a light hand on her shoulder and whispered, "Suppose you forget it, baby. I know what you mean. But there's nothing?

"Yes, there's nothing we can do! Everyone says that ?and we just sit and wait for the knife to come down."

She returned to what was left of her sandwich and tea. Quietly, Toran was arranging the beds. It was quite dark outside.

Randu, as newly-appointed co-ordinator ?in itself a wartime post ?of the confederation of cities on Haven, had been assigned, at his own request, to an upper room, out of the window of which he could brood over the roof tops and greenery of the city. Now, in the fading of the cave lights, the city receded into the level lack of distinction of the shades. Randu did not care to meditate upon the symbolism.

He said to Ebling Mis ?whose clear, little eyes seemed to have no further interest than the red-filled goblet in his hand ?"There's a saying on Haven that when the cave lights go out, it is time for the righteous and hard-working to sleep."

"Do you sleep much lately?"

"No! Sorry to call you so late, Mis. I like the night better somehow these days. Isn't that strange? The people on Haven condition themselves pretty strictly on the lack of light meaning sleep. Myself, too. But it's different now?

"You're hiding," said Mis, flatly. "You're surrounded by people in the waking period, and you feel their eyes and their hopes on you. You can't stand up under it. In the sleep period, you're free."

"Do you feel it, too, then? This miserable sense of defeat?"

Ebling Mis nodded slowly, "I do. It's a mass psychosis, an unprintable mob panic. "Ga-LAX-y, Randu, what do you expect? Here you have a whole culture brought up to a blind, blubbering belief that a folk hero of the past has everything all planned out and is taking care of every little piece of their unprintable lives. The thought-pattern evoked has religious characteristics, and you know what that means."

"Not a bit."

Mis was not enthusiastic about the necessity of explanation. He never was. So he growled, stared at the long cigar he rolled thoughtfully between his fingers and said, "Characterized by strong faith reactions. Beliefs can't be shaken short of a major shock, in which case, a fairly complete mental disruption results. Mild cases-hysteria, morbid sense of insecurity. Advanced cases ?madness and suicide."

Randu bit at a thumbnail. "When Seldon fails us, in other words, our prop disappears, and we've been leaning upon it so long, our muscles are atrophied to where we can not stand without it."

"That's it. Sort of a clumsy metaphor, but that's it."

"And you, Ebling, what of your own muscles?"

The psychologist filtered a long draught of air through his cigar, and let the smoke laze out. "Rusty, but not atrophied. My profession has resulted in just a bit of independent thinking."

"And you see a way out?"

"No, but there must be one. Maybe Seldon made no provisions for the Mule. Maybe he didn't guarantee our victory. But, then, neither did he guarantee defeat. He's just out of the game and we're on our own. The Mule can be licked."

"How?"

"By the only way anyone can be licked ?by attacking in strength at weakness. See here, Randu, the Mule isn't a superman. If he is finally defeated, everyone will see that for himself. It's just that he's an unknown, and the legends cluster quickly. He's supposed to be a mutant. Well, what of that? A mutant means a 'superman' to the ignoramuses of humanity. Nothing of the sort.

"It's been estimated that several million mutants are born in the Galaxy every day. Of the several million, all but one or two percent can be detected only by means of microscopes and chemistry. Of the one or two percent macromutants, that is, those with mutations detectable to the naked eye or naked mind, all but one or two percent are freaks, fit for the amusement centers, the laboratories, and death. Of the few macromutants whose differences are to the good, almost all are harmless curiosities, unusual in some single respect, normal ?and often subnormal ?in most others. You see that, Randu?"

"I do. But what of the Mule?"

"Supposing the Mule to be a mutant then, we can assume that he has some attribute, undoubtedly mental, which can be used to conquer worlds. In other respects, he undoubtedly has his shortcomings, which we must locate. He would not be so secretive, so shy of others' eyes, if these shortcomings were not apparent and fatal. If he's a mutant."

"Is there an alternative?"

"There might be. Evidence for mutation rests on Captain Han Pritcher of what used to be Foundation's Intelligence. He drew his conclusions from the feeble memories of those who claimed to know the Mule-or somebody who might have been the Mule ?in infancy and early childhood. Pritcher worked on slim pickings there, and what evidence he found might easily have been planted by the Mule for his own purposes, for it's certain that the Mule has been vastly aided by his reputation as a mutant-superman."

"This iiiinteresting. How long have you thought that?"

"I never thought that, in the sense of believing it. It is merely an alternative to be considered. For instance, Randu, suppose the Mule has discovered a form of radiation capable of depressing mental energy just as he is in possession of one which depresses nuclear reactions. What then, eh? Could that explain what's hitting us now ?and what did hit the Foundation?"

Randu seemed immersed in a near-wordless gloom.

He said, "What of your own researches on the Mule's clown."

And now Ebling Mis hesitated. "Useless as yet. I spoke bravely to the mayor previous to the Foundation's collapse, mainly to keep his courage up ?partly to keep my own up as well. But, Randu, if my mathematical tools were up to it, then from the clown alone I could analyze the Mule completely. Then we would have him. Then we could solve the queer anomalies that have impressed me already."

"Such as?"

"Think, man. The Mule defeated the navies of the Foundation at will, but he has not once managed to force the much weaker fleets of the Independent Traders to retreat in open combat. The Foundation fell at a blow; the Independent Traders hold out against all his strength. He first used Extinguishing Field upon the nuclear weapons of the Independent Traders of Mnemon. The element of surprise lost them that battle but they countered the Field. He was never able to use it successfully against the Independents again.

"But over and over again, it worked against Foundation forces. It worked on the Foundation itself. Why? With our present knowledge, it is all illogical. So there must be factors of which we are not aware."

"Treachery?"

"That's rattle-pated nonsense, Randu. Unprintable twaddle. There wasn't a man on the Foundation who wasn't sure of victory. Who would betray a certain-to-win side."

Randu stepped to the curved window and stared unseeingly out into the unseeable. He said, "But we're certain to lose now, if the Mule had a thousand weaknesses; if he were a network of holes?

He did not turn. It was as if the slump of his back, the nervous groping for one another of the hands behind him that spoke. He said, "We escaped easily after the Time Vault episode, Ebling. Others might have escaped as well. A few did. Most did not. The Extinguishing Field could have been counteracted. It asked ingenuity and a certain amount of labor. All the ships of the Foundation Navy could have flown to Haven or other nearby planets to continue the fight as we did. Not one percent did so. In effect, they deserted to the enemy.

"The Foundation underground, upon which most people here seem to rely so heavily, has thus far done nothing of consequence. The Mule has been politic enough to promise to safeguard the property and profits of the great Traders and they have gone over to him."

Ebling Mis said stubbornly, "The plutocrats have always been against us."

"They always held the power, too. Listen, Ebling. We have reason to believe that the Mule or his tools have already been in contact with powerful men among the Independent Traders. At least ten of the twenty-seven Trading Worlds are known to have gone over to the Mule. Perhaps ten more waver. There are personalities on Haven itself who would not be unhappy over the Mule's domination. It's apparently an insurmountable temptation to give up endangered political power, if that will maintain your hold over economic affairs. "

"You don't think Haven can fight the Mule?"

"I don't think Haven will." And now Randu turned his troubled face full upon the psychologist. "I think Haven is waiting to surrender. It's what I called you here to tell you. I want you to leave Haven."

Ebling Mis puffed up his plump checks in amazement. "Already?"

Randu felt horribly tired. "Ebling, you are the Foundation's greatest psychologist. The real master-psychologists went out with Seldon, but you're the best we have. You're our only chance of defeating the Mule. You can't do that here; you'll have to go to what's left of the Empire."

"To Trantor?"

"That's right. What was once the Empire is bare bones today, but something must still be at the center. They've got the records there, Ebling. You may learn more of mathematical psychology; perhaps enough to be able to interpret the clown's mind. He will go with you, of course."

Mis responded dryly, "I doubt if he'd be willing to, even for fear of the Mule, unless your niece went with him."

"I know that. Toran and Bayta are leaving with you for that very reason. And, Ebling, there's another, greater purpose. Hari Seldon founded two Foundations three centuries ago; one at each end of the Galaxy. You must find that Second Foundation."
第十九章 寻找开始
　　甭独的赫汶星是赫汶恒星唯一的伴随者，两者构成了这个星区唯一的恒星系。这里已经接近银河的最前缘，再往外便是星系与星系间的虚无太空。
甭独的赫汶星，如今被包围了。
就严格的军事观点而言，它的确是被包围了。因为在银河系这一侧，距离赫汶星系二十秒差距之外的任何区域，没有一处不在骡的前进据点控制之下。在基地溃败覆亡四个月之后，赫汶的对外通讯已经柔肠寸断，就像是被剃刀割裂的蜘蛛网一样。赫汶所属的船舰都向母星集结，赫汶星成了唯一的战斗据点。
而就其他非军事的观点而言，被包围的压迫感似乎更为强烈。绝望无助的情绪早已渗透进来，赫汶整个笼罩在悲观的宿命中。
贝坦拖著沈重的脚步，走在画著粉红波状条纹的通道上。她边走边数，经过了一排排乳白色的塑面餐桌，终於数到自己的座位。坐上了高脚而没有扶手的椅子之后，她才感到轻松一些，一面机械化地回答著彷佛听到的招呼，一面用酸疼的手背揉著酸疼的眼睛，同时随手将菜单取了过来。
她瞥了一眼菜单，看到几道人工培养的蕈类做成的菜肴，立刻感到一阵思心反胃。这些食物在赫汶被视为珍贵的美食，可是她的基地胃口却认为简直无法下咽。她正要皱起眉头，忽然听到一阵啜泣声，於是马上抬起头来。
直到这个时候，贝妲才注意到了袭娣。裘娣的面貌平庸，还有个狮子鼻，虽是金发却毫不起眼。她的座位在贝妲的斜对面，两人只是点头之交。现在裘娣正哭得一把鼻涕一把眼泪，伤心地拼命咬著一块湿透了的手帕：她不停地抽噎著，直到脸庞都涨得通红。她的抗放射衣搭在肩上，已经皱得不成样子；透明的面罩扎到了点心里面，她也根本视若无睹。
袭娣的身边早已站了三个女孩，在那里试图安慰她。她们不停地轮流拍著她的肩膀，抚著她的头发，还胡乱说些安慰的话，可是显然一点效果也没有。
贝妲走过去加入她们的阵容。她轻声地问：“怎么回事？”
一个女孩回过头来，轻轻耸了耸肩，意思是说“我也不知道”　。然后她也感到这个动作不足以达意，於是将贝妲拉到一边去，对她说：“我猜她今天很不好过，她在担心她先生。”
“他在担任太空巡逻任务吗？”
“是的。”
於是贝妲友善地向裘娣伸出手，对她说：“丧娣，你何不回家去休息呢？”
相对於刚才那些软弱无力的空洞安慰，贝妲这句话显得有效多了。
裘娣抬起头来，恨恨地说：“这个星期我已经请过一次假了……”
“那么你就再请一次。如果你硬要待在这里，你可知道，下个星期你还得请三次假呢。所以说你现在回家，就等於是一种爱国的行为——你们几位，有没有和她在同一个部门的？好，那么请你帮她打一下卡——裘娣，你最好先到洗手间去一下，把脸洗洗乾净，重新化化妆。去啊！走！”
然后贝妲又走回自己的座位，再度拿起菜单，觉得稍微松了口气，可是心情却更加沮丧。这些情绪是会传染的，在这种令人精神崩溃的日子里，只要一个女孩开始哭泣，就会使得整个部门都人心惶惶。
贝妲终於硬著头皮，决定了要吃什么菜。她按下手时边的一个按钮，再将菜单放回原处。
坐在贝坦对面的是一位高个子的黑发少女，她对贝妲说：“我们除了哭泣之外，只怕不能做什么了，对下对？”
那少女在说话的时候，过分丰满的嘴唇几乎没有蠕动。贝妲注意到，少女的嘴唇是最新潮化妆术的杰作，呈现出一种似笑非笑的神情。
贝坦垂著眼睑，咀嚼著对方话中拐弯抹角的讥讽，同时无聊地看著午餐自动运送的过程——桌面上的瓷砖部分先向下沉，然后带著食物又升上来。她小心翼翼地撕开餐具的包装纸，轻轻搅拌著面前的食物，直到原本热腾腾的菜肴全都变凉了。
此时贝妲才开口说：“贺拉，你想不到任何别的事可做吗？”
“喔，当然，”贺拉答道：“我可以！”她熟练地随手做了一个小动作，就将手中的香烟弹进了壁槽中。香烟刚进入那个垃圾处理槽，就被一阵小小的闪光吞噬了。
“比如说，”贺拉合起了保养得很好的两只纤纤玉手，放在下巴底下，对贝姐说：“我认为我们可以和那个骡达成一个非常好的协议，赶紧结柬这些荒谬的事。可是到了那个时候，当骡要来接管此地时，我可没有……嗯……没有管道能及时逃走。”
贝妲光润的额头并没有因此皱起来，她的声音轻柔而冷淡：“你的兄弟或是你的先生，没有一个在星舰上服役吧，对下对？”
“没有，然而，让别人的兄弟或丈夫去牺牲生命，我更看不出有任何意义。”
“如果我们投降的话，牺牲一定会更大的。”
“基地已经投降了，可是却安然无事。你看看我们———男人们都去参战了，而敌人却是整个银河。”
贝妲耸耸肩，用甜美的声音说：“恐怕只有前者令你烦恼吧。”说完，她继续吃著大盘子里的蔬菜。
四周突然之间鸦雀无声，让她感到很不舒服。坐在附近的女孩们，没有一个想对贝姐的嘲讽加任何的评语。
贝妲终於吃完了，随手按下另一个按钮，餐桌就自动收拾乾净，她赶紧离开了餐厅。
坐在贝妲隔壁的隔壁那个女孩，此时忽然用欲盖弥彰的耳语，问贺拉道：“她是谁啊？”
贺拉灵动的嘴唇翘起来，爱理不理地说：“她是我们协调官的侄媳妇，你难道不知道吗？”
“是吗？”问话的女孩赶快转过头去，刚奸好赶上瞥见贝姐最后一眼。她转回头又问：“她在这里做什么呢？”
“只是一个普通的装配员，你难道不明白这年头流行爱国吗？这样做有多民主啊，真是令我哚心。”
“算了，贺拉。”坐在贺拉旁边的眫女孩说：“她从来也没有拿她叔叔来压我们，你就别再说了好吗？”
贺拉白了眫女孩一眼，根本不理会她的话，然后又点燃了另一根香烟。
罢才问“她是谁”的那个好奇的女孩，现在正全神贯注，听著对面一位大眼睛的会计小姐滔滔不绝。会计小姐的话说得很快：“……当谢顿演讲时，她应该也在穹窿——我是说真的在窍窿里面，你知道吗？听说市长气得当场口吐白沫，还发生了不少的骚动，以及诸如此类的事情，你知道吗？在骡登陆之前，她及时逃走了，听说她的逃亡过程惊险万分，强行穿过了封锁线等等等等。我真奇怪，她为什么不将这些经历写成一本书呢？现在这些讲战争的书可真畅销呢，你知道吗？还有，她也应该曾经到过骡的大本营——卡尔根，你知道吗？并且……”
报时的铃声响了起来，餐厅中的人渐渐离去。会计小姐的高论依然不停，好奇的女孩听得目瞪口呆，只能在适当的时候，说一句点缀性的：“真——的吗？”
当贝姐回到家的时候，洞穴中巨大的照明已依次被遮蔽起来，使得这座洞穴都市逐渐进入“黑夜”　。这种人工的黑夜，意味着现在已是“好人与勤奋工作者进入梦乡的时候”。
杜伦手中举著一片涂满奶油的面包，站在门口迎接她。
“你到哪里去了？”他嘴里满是食物，含混不清地问。然后，又用比较清楚的声音说：“我胡乱弄出来一顿晚餐，如果不好吃的话，你可别怪我。”
贝妲却张大眼睛，绕著他走了一圈，然后问道：“杜！你的制服到哪里去了？你穿便服做什么？”
“我在待命，贝。蓝度正在和艾布林•米斯一起密商大计，我也不明白他们准备做什么，现在你已经知道得和我一样多了。”
“我也会一起去吗？”她冲动地向他定过去。
他先吻了她一下，再回答说：“我想是的，这个任务可能会有危险。”
“什么事情没有危险？”
“说得一点都没错——喔，对了，我已经派人去找马巨擘，他可能也要跟我们一起去。”
“你的意思是说，他在发动机总厂的演奏会要取消了？”
“显然是这样。”
贝妲走进隔壁房间，坐到了餐桌前，餐桌上的食物名副其实是“胡乱弄出来”的。她迅速而熟练地将三明治切成两半，然后说：　“取消演奏会真是太可惜了，工厂里的女孩们已经盼了好久，马巨擘自己也是一样。”她摇了摇头：“他真是个古怪的家伙。”
“他激起了你的母性本能，贝，那才是他对你最大的影响。将来我们一定会生个小宝宝，到时候你就会忘掉马巨擘了。”
贝妲一面啃著三明治，一面回答说：“听你这么说，倒像是只有你才能激起我的母性本能。”
然后她将三明治放下来，表情突然变得极为严肃认真。
“杜——”
“嗯——”
“我今天到市政厅去了一趟——我是去‘生产局’”，所以才会这么晚回来。”
“你去那里做什么？”
“这个……”她犹豫了一下，以不太肯定的口气说：“情况越来越糟，我感觉自己再也无法忍受工厂中的气氛。士气……根本就荡然无存，女孩们动不动就哭成一团，不会哭的也变得阴阳怪气，即使是以前从不作声的小痹乖，现在也会闹别扭了。在我工作的那个组里，生产量还不到我刚去时的四分之一 ，而且每天一定有人请假。”
“好啦，”杜伦道：“回过来说生产局吧，你去那里做什么？”
“我去打听一些事情，结果我发现，杜，这种士气低落的情况整个赫汶全都一样。产量逐日递减，骚乱与不满的情绪却与日俱增。而那个局长只是耸耸肩——我在会客室整整等了一个小时才见到他，我能够见到他，还是因为我是协调官的侄媳妇。局长对我说，这个问题不在他的能力范围之内。坦白说，我认为他根本就不关心。”
“好啦，别又扯远了，贝。”
“我不相信他关心这个问题，”贝坦激动地说：“我告诉你，一定有什么不对劲的地方。这种可怕的挫折感，当初在穹窿中，谢顿让我们大失所望的时候，我也有过相同的经验，你自己也感觉到了。”
“没错，我也曾经感觉到。”
“对，现在这种感觉又回来了。”她继续没好气地说：　“我们再也无法对抗骡了。即使我们有人力物力，我们的勇气、精神、意志却全部消失了。杜，再抵抗也没有什么用……”
在杜伦的记忆中，贝妲从来没哭过，如今她也没有哭，至少不是真的在哭。杜伦将手轻轻搭在她的肩上，细声地说：“把这些忘了吧，宝贝，我了解你的意思，但是我们什么也……”
“对，我们什么也不能做！每一个人都这么说——我们就这样子坐在这里，等著任人宰割。”
说完，她开始解决剩下的三明治与半杯茶，杜伦一声不响地去铺床，此时外面已经完全暗了下来。
蓝度新近被任命为赫汶城邦的协调官——这是一个战时的职务。他在就任后，便要求拥有一间顶楼的宿舍，而且轻易地如愿以偿。从这间宿舍的窗户，他可以对著城中的绿地与屋顶沈思默想。现在，随著洞穴照明一个接一个被遮蔽起来，整个城市不再有任何的明暗光影。蓝度却也没有心情，冥想这个变化有什么象征性的意义。
他开口对艾布林•米斯说：“在赫汶有一句谚语：当洞穴照明遮蔽时，便是好人与勤奋工作者进入梦乡的时候。”米斯明后的小眼睛，却只是盯著手中注满红色液体的高脚杯，对周遭的其他事物仿佛都不感兴趣。
“你最近睡得多吗？”
“没有！米斯，很抱歉这么晚还把你找来。这些日子以来，我好像特别喜欢夜晚，这是不是很奇怪？赫汶人的作息都相当规律，当照明遮蔽时就上床睡觉，我自己本来也是一样，可是现在不同了……”
“你这是在逃避——”米斯断然地说：“在众人清醒的时候，你身边总是围绕著一大群人。你感觉到他们的眼光、他们的希望都投注在你身上，令你简直承受不了。当他们入睡之后，你才能够真正解脱。”
“这么说，你也感觉到了——那种悲惨的挫败感吗？”
艾布林•米斯缓缓地点了点头：“我也感觉到了，这是一种集体精神状态，一种×××的群众恐惧心理。老天——啊！蓝度，你在指望什么？你们整个的文化，导致了一种盲目的、可怜兮兮的信仰，认为过去有一个民族英雄，将每一件事情都计划好了，你们×××的生活中每一个细节，也都会被照顾得好好的。这种思想模式具有宗教的特征，你也知道这意味著什么。”
“我一点都不懂。”
米斯向来对於解释自己的理论兴趣缺缺，他只是若有所思地用手指来回拨弄著一根长雪茄，然后一面瞪著雪茄，一面咆哮道：“就是强烈信心反应的特征，这种信念除非受到了很大的震撼，否则绝对不会轻易动摇。然而一旦动摇的话，就会造成全面性的精神崩溃，轻者——歇斯底里或病态的不安全感；重者——发疯甚至自杀。”
蓝度咬著拇指的指甲，回答说：“谢顿令我们大失所望之后，就等於我们的精神支柱消失了。然而我们已经依靠它那么久，我们的肌肉都萎缩了，失去了这根支柱，自己简直无法站立。”
“就是这样子。你的比喻虽然拙劣，不过就是这个样子。”
“而你呢，艾布林，你自己的肌肉又如何？”
心理学家深深地抽了一口雪茄？再慢慢地将烟吐出来，然后说：“生锈了，不过至少还没有萎缩，我的职业让我练就了一点独立思考的能力。”
“而你看得出一个解决之道？”
“我看不出，不过一定有。也许谢顿没有将骡计算在内，也许他不能保证我们的胜利，但是，他也没说我们一定会被打败。这只是代表谢顿已经退出这场游戏，从现在开始，我们一切都要靠自己——骡是有可能被击败的。”
“怎么做呢？”
“就是靠足以击败任何敌人的唯一法门——用我方的拳头打击对方柔软的下腹。你想想看，蓝度，骡并不是一个超人，如果最后他终於被打垮了，每一个人都能了解他失败的原因，现在的问题是他仍是个未知数，而有关他的传说像滚雪球般不断膨胀。他应该是个突变种没错，可是，这又怎么样？对於无知大众而言，突变种就意味著‘超人’，然而根本不是这么回事。
“根据估计，银河中每天都有几百万个突变种出生，在这几百万个突变种中，只有百分之一、二可以直接看出来，其他都需要用显微镜和生化检验才能确定。这些巨观的突变种，也就是说用肉眼可以看出，或是直接可以察觉的突变种，其中百分之九十八、九都是畸形人，他们不是被送到游乐中心展览、送到实验室研究，便是很快就夭折了。剩下的那些非畸形的巨观突变种，他们体内的突变是正面的。这些异人大多对他人无害，他们通常有一项特殊能力，而其他方面都很普通——甚至会更差。你懂了吗，蓝度？”
“我懂了，但是骡又如何呢？”
“如果骡的确是一个突变种，我们就可以进一步假设他有一项特殊的异能，而且无疑是精神方面的，他就是靠著这个异能征服各个世界。另一方面，骡必定也有他的短处，如果那些短处不是很明显而致命的话，他不会那么故作神秘，那样害怕被人看到。如果他真的是一个突变种，我们就必须把那些短处找出来。”
“有没有其他的可能性？”
“也许有——我们现在手上关於骡是突变种的证据，都是基地情报局的汉•普利吉上尉所提供的。他曾经去访问过骡的故乡，遇到一些人，声称在骡的襁褓期或幼年期曾经见过他——或者说他们曾见过一个可能是骡的人。普利吉根据那些人不大可靠的记忆，得到了这个惊人的结论。不过他所搜集到的证据相当贫乏，它们也很有可能是骡故意捏造的。因为，骡是一个变种超人的这个名声，不可否认对他是一个很大的助力。”
“这真是很有意思，你是什么时候想到这一点的？”
“我从来没有把这个想法当真，这只是我们不能忽略的另一种可能性罢了。比如说，蓝度，假使骡发现了一种可以压抑精神能量的辐射，类似他拥有的那种可以抑制核反应的装置，那么结果又会如何，啊？这能不能解释我们如今的困境，以及基地沦陷的真正原因？”
蓝度似乎沈浸在近乎无言的忧郁中，他勉强问道：“对於骡的那个小丑，你的研究有什么结果？”
艾布林•米斯却犹犹豫豫地说：“目前为止没有什么用处。在基地陷落之前，我大胆地对市长夸下海口，目的只是要激励他的勇气——有一部分也是为我自己打气。但是，蓝度，如果我的数学工具够好的话，那么我从那个小丑的身上，就能够对骡进行完整的分析。这样我们就能解开他的秘密，也就能够解答那些困扰著我的反常现象。”
“比如说？”
“老兄，你想想看，骡能够轻易地打败基地的舰队，然而独立行商的舰队虽然远比不上基地，但是在硬碰硬的战役中，骡却从来无法迫使他们撤退。基地不堪一击就沦陷了，独立行商面对骡的所有兵力，却仍然能够负隅顽抗。骡首先使用核场抑制器对付涅蒙的独立行商，破坏了他们的核能武器。他们由於措手不及，所以那一次吃了败仗。伹等他们找到破解仰制场的办法后，骡用那种新武器对付独立行商，就再也没有讨过便宜。
“可是当他使用抑制场对付基地舰队时，却一而再、再而三地屡试不爽，甚至还在端点星上大显神威，这究竟是为什么？据我们目前所有的情报，这简直是不合逻辑。所以说，必定还有一些我们所不知道的因素。”
“出了叛徒吗？”
“这是最不用大脑的胡说八道，蓝度，简直是XXX的废话。基地没有一个人不认为胜利站在自己这一边，谁会背叛一个必胜的赢家？”
蓝度走到弧形窗前，瞪著窗外什么也看不见的一片漆黑。他背对著米斯喃喃地说：“但是现在看来我们是输定了，纵使骡有一千个弱点，纵使他百孔千疮……”
蓝度没有再说下去，也一直没有转身，但是看到他偃凄著背，放在背后的双手不安地互握著，米斯不难猜出他想说的是什么。
蓝度又继续说：“艾布林，在穹窿那场变故之后，我们轻易就逃了出来，其他人也应该能够逃脱，不过大多数人却都没有逃。核场抑制器所发射的抑制场，只要有一流人才和足够的时间，应该就能够发明出中和它的装置。基地舰队的所有船舰，应该可以像我们这样，飞到赫汶或附近其他的行星继续作战，可是这样做的连百分之一也没有，事实上，他们部投奔到敌军阵营去了。
“这里大多数人似乎都对基地的地下组织抱著很大的期望，伹到目前为止他们根本没有什么行动。骡是足够精明的政治人物，他已经保证会保护大行商们的身家、陆命、财产，以及未来的利益，所以他们也都向他输诚了。”
艾布林•米斯以顽强的口气说：“财阀一向都是我们的死对头。”
“他们也一向都掌握着权势。听好，艾布林，我们有很好的理由相信，骡或者他的爪牙，已经和独立行商中的重要人物接触。在二十七个行商世界中，至少有十个世界向骡靠拢，可能另外还有十个开始动摇。而在赫汶，也有一些重要人物会欢迎骡的统治——如果放弃了岌岌可危的政治权力，就能够保有原先的经济实力，这对许多人而言，都是一种不可抗拒的诱惑。”
“你认为赫汶对骡的侵略会不加抵抗吗？”
“我认为赫汶不会抵抗，”蓝度将布满愁容的脸转了过来，语重心长地面对着心理学家说：“我认为赫汶在等著投降。我今晚找你来，就是要告诉你这件事——我要你离开赫汶。”
艾布林•米斯听了大吃一惊，圆嘟嘟的脸庞胀得更圆。他问蓝度：“现在就走吗？”
蓝度感到极度的疲倦，回答他说：“艾布林，你是基地最伟大的心理学家，真正的心理学大师都随著谢顿一起失去，如今你就是这门学问的权威。我们想要击败骡，唯一能指望的就是你，可是你在这里不会有任何进展，你必须到帝国仅有的领域去。”
“去川陀？”
“没错，昔日的帝国如今仅剩最后的残骸，但是一定有些东西藏在它的核心。他们在那里保存著重要的纪录，艾布林，你可以从中学到更多的数理心理学，也许足以使你能够诠释那个小丑的心灵。当然，他也会跟你一起去。”
米斯冷淡地答道：“我很怀疑他会愿意跟我去，虽然他那么害怕骡——除非你的侄媳妇也能同行。”
“这一点我知道，就是因为这样，我准备让杜伦和贝妲跟你一块走。此外，艾布林，你还有一项更伟大的使命——三个世纪之前，哈里•谢顿建立了两个基地，分别置於银河系的两端，你一定要将‘第二基地’找出来。”

20. CONSPIRATOR
The mayor's palace ?what was once the mayor's palace ?was a looming smudge in the darkness. The city was quiet under its conquest and curfew, and the hazy milk of the great Galactic Lens, with here and there a lonely star, dominated the sky of the Foundation.

In three centuries the Foundation had grown from a private project of a small group of scientists to a tentacular trade empire sprawling deep into the Galaxy and half a year had flung it from its heights to the status of another conquered province.

Captain Han Pritcher refused to grasp that.

The city's sullen nighttime quiet, the darkened palace, intruder-occupied, were symbolic enough, but Captain Han Pritcher, just within the outer gate of the palace, with the tiny nuclear bomb under his tongue, refused to understand.

A shape drifted closer ?the captain bent his head.

The whisper came deathly low, "The alarm system is as it always was, captain. Proceed! It will register nothing."

Softly, the captain ducked through the low archway, and down the fountain-lined path to what had been Indbur's garden.

Four months ago had been the day in the Time Vault, the fullness of which his memory balked at. Singly and separately the impressions would come back, unwelcome, mostly at night.

Old Seldon speaking his benevolent words that were so shatteringly wrong ?the jumbled confusion ?Indbur, with his mayoral costume incongruously bright about his pinched, unconscious face ?the frightened crowds gathering quickly, waiting noiselessly for the inevitable word of surrender ?the young man, Toran, disappearing out of a side door with the Mule's clown dangling over his shoulder.

And himself, somehow out of it all afterward, with his car unworkable.

Shouldering his way along and through the leaderless mob that was already leaving the city ?destination unknown.

Making blindly for the various rat holes which were ?which had once been ?the headquarters for a democratic underground that for eighty years had been failing and dwindling.

And the rat holes were empty.

The next day, black alien ships were momentarily visible in the sky, sinking gently into the clustered buildings of the nearby city. Captain Han Pritcher felt an accumulation of helplessness and despair drown him.

He started his travels in earnest.

In thirty days he had covered nearly two hundred miles on foot, changed to the clothing of a worker in the hydroponic factories whose body he found newly-dead by the side of the road, grown a fierce beard of russet intensity

And found what was left of the underground.

The city was Newton, the district a residential one of one-time elegance slowly edging towards squalor, the house an undistinguished member of a row, and the man a small-eyed, big-boned whose knotted fists bulged through his pockets and whose wiry body remained unbudgingly in the narrow door opening.

The captain mumbled, "I come from Miran."

The man returned the gambit, grimly. "Miran is early this year."

The captain said, "No earlier than last year."

But the man did not step aside. He said, "Who are you?"

"Aren't you Fox?"

"Do you always answer by asking?"

The captain took an imperceptibly longer breath, and then said calmly, "I am Han Pritcher, Captain of the Fleet, and member of the Democratic Underground Party. Will you let me in?"

The Fox stepped aside. He said, "My real name is Orum Palley."

He held out his hand. The captain took it.

The room was well-kept, but not lavish. In one comer stood a decorative book-film projector, which to the captain's military eyes might easily have been a camouflaged blaster of respectable caliber. The projecting lens covered the doorway, and such could be remotely controlled.

The Fox followed his bearded guest's eyes, and smiled tightly. He said, "Yes! But only in the days of Indbur and his lackey-hearted vampires. It wouldn't do much against the Mule, eh? Nothing would help against the Mule. Are you hungry?"

The captain's jaw muscles tightened beneath his beard, and he nodded.

"It'll take a minute if you don't mind waiting." The Fox removed cans from a cupboard and placed two before Captain Pritcher. "Keep your finger on it, and break them when they're hot enough. My heat-control unit's out of whack. Things like that remind you there's a war on ?or was on, eh?"

His quick words had a jovial content, but were said in anything but a jovial tone ?and his eyes were coldly thoughtful. He sat down opposite the captain and said, "There'll be nothing but a burn-spot left where you're sitting, if there's anything about you I don't like. Know that?"

The captain did not answer. The cans before him opened at a pressure.

The Fox said, shortly, "Stew! Sorry, but the food situation is short."

"I know," said the captain. He ate quickly; not looking up.

The Fox said, "I once saw you. I'm trying to remember, and the beard is definitely out of the picture."

"I haven't shaved in thirty days." Then, fiercely, "What do you want? I had the correct passwords. I have identification."

The other waved a hand, "Oh, I'll grant you're Pritcher all right. But there are plenty who have the passwords, and the identifications, and the identities ?who are with the Mule. Ever hear of Levvaw, eh?"

"Yes."

"He's with the Mule."

"What? He?

"Yes. He was the man they called 'No Surrender.'" The Fox's lips made laughing motions, with neither sound nor humor. "Then there's Willig. With the Mule! Garre and Noth. With the Mule! Why not Pritcher as well, eh? How would I know?"

The captain merely shook his head.

"But it doesn't matter," said the Fox, softly. "They must have my name, if Noth has gone over ?so if you're legitimate, you're in more new danger than I am over our acquaintanceship."

The captain had finished eating. He leaned back, "If you have no organization here, where can I find one? The Foundation may have surrendered, but I haven't."

"So! You can't wander forever, captain. Men of the Foundation must have travel permits to move from town to town these days. You know that? Also identity cards. You have one? Also, all officers of the old Navy have been requested to report to the nearest occupation headquarters. That's you, eh?"

"Yes." The captain's voice was hard. "Do you think I run through fear. I was on Kalgan not long after its fall to the Mule. Within a month, not one of the old warlord's officers was at large, because they were the natural military leaders of any revolt. It's always been the underground's knowledge that no revolution can be successful without the control of at least part of the Navy. The Mule evidently knows it, too."

The Fox nodded thoughtfully, "Logical enough. The Mule is thorough."

"I discarded the uniform as soon as I could. I grew the beard. Afterwards there may be a chance that others have taken the same action."

"Are you married?"

"My wife is dead. I have no children.

"You're hostage-immune, then."

"Yes."

"You want my advice?"

"If you have any."

A don't know what the Mule's policy is or what he intends, but skilled workers have not been harmed so far. Pay rates have gone up. Production of all sorts of nuclear weapons is booming."

"Yes? Sounds like a continuing offensive."

"I don't know. The Mule's a subtle son of a drab, and he may merely be soothing the workers into submission. If Seldon couldn't figure him out with all his psychohistory, I'm not going to try. But you're wearing work clothes. That suggests something, eh?"

"I'm not a skilled worker."

"You've had a military course in nucleics, haven't you?"

"Certainly."

"That's enough. The Nuclear-Field Bearings, Inc., is located here in town. Tell them you've had experience. The stinkers who used to run the factory for Indbur are still running it ?for the Mule. They won't ask questions, as long as they need more workers to make their fat hunk. They'll give you an identity card and you can apply for a room in the Corporation's housing district. You might start now."

In that manner, Captain Han Pritcher of the National Fleet became Shield-man Lo Moro of the 45 Shop of Nuclear-Field Bearings, Inc. And from an Intelligence agent, he descended the social scale to "conspirator"?a calling which led him months later to what had been Indbur's private garden,

In the garden, Captain Pritcher consulted the radometer in the palm of his hand. The inner warning field was still in operation, and he waited. Half an hour remained to the life of the nuclear bomb in his mouth. He rolled it gingerly with his tongue.

The radometer died into an ominous darkness and the captain advanced quickly.

So far, matters had progressed well.

He reflected objectively that the life of the nuclear bomb was his as well; that its death was his death ?and the Mule's death.

And the grand climacteric of a four-month's private war would be reached; a war that had passed from flight through a Newton factory

For two months, Captain Pritcher wore leaden aprons and heavy face shields, till all things military had been frictioned off his outer bearing. He was a laborer, who collected his pay, spent his evenings in town, and never discussed politics.

For two months, he did not see the Fox.

And then, one day, a man stumbled past his bench, and there was a scrap of paper in his pocket. The word "Fox" was on it. He tossed it into the nuclear chamber, where it vanished in a sightless puff, sending the energy output up a millimicrovolt ?and turned back to his work.

That night he was at the Fox's home, and took a hand in a game of cards with two other men he knew by reputation and one by name and face.

Over the cards and the passing and repassing tokens, they spoke.

The captain said, "It's a fundamental error. You live in the exploded past. For eighty years our organization has been waiting for the correct historical moment. We've been blinded by Seldon's psychohistory, one of the first propositions of which is that the individual does not count, does not make history, and that complex social and economic factors override him, make a puppet out of him." He adjusted his cards carefully, appraised their value and said, as he put out a token. "Why not kill the Mule?"

"Well, now, and what good would that do?" demanded the man at his left, fiercely.

"You see," said the captain, discarding two cards, "that's the attitude. What is one man ?out of quadrillions. The Galaxy won't stop rotating because one man dies. But the Mule is not a man, he is a mutant. Already, he had upset Seldon's plan, and if you'll stop to analyze the implications, it means that he ?one man ?one mutant ?upset all of Seldon's psychohistory. If he had never lived, the Foundation would not have fallen. If he ceased living, it would not remain fallen.

"Come, the democrats have fought the mayors and the traders for eighty years by connivery. Let's try assassination."

"How?" interposed the Fox, with cold common sense.

The captain said, slowly, "I've spent three months of thought on that with no solution. I came here and had it in five minutes." He glanced briefly at the man whose broad, pink melon of a face smiled from the place at his right. "You were once Mayor Indbur's chamberlain. I did not know you were of the underground,"

"Nor I, that you were." 

"Well, then, in your capacity as chamberlain you periodically checked the working of the alarm system of the palace."

"I did."

"And the Mule occupies the palace now."

"So it has been announced ?though he is a modest conqueror who makes no speeches, proclamations nor public appearances of any sort."

"That's an old story, and affects nothing. You, my ex-chamberlain, are all we need."

The cards were shown and the Fox collected the stakes. Slowly, he dealt a new hand.

The man who had once been chamberlain picked up his cards, singly. "Sorry, captain. I checked the alarm system, but it was routine. I know nothing about it."

"I expected that, but your mind carries an eidetic memory of the controls if it can be probed deeply enough ?with a psychic probe."

The chamberlain's ruddy face paled suddenly and sagged. The cards in his hand crumpled under sudden fist-pressure, "A psychic probe?"

"You needn't worry," said the captain, sharply. "I know how to use one. It will not harm you past a few days' weakness. And if it did, it is the chance you take and the price you pay. There are some among us, no doubt, who from the controls of the alarm could determine the wavelength combinations. There are some among us who could manufacture a small bomb under time-control and I myself will carry it to the Mule."

The men gathered over the table.

The captain announced, "On a given evening, a riot will start in Terminus City in the neighborhood of the palace. No real fighting. Disturbance ?then flight. As long as the palace guard is attracted ... or, at the very least, distracted?

From that day for a month the preparations went on, and Captain Han Pritcher of the National Fleet having become conspirator descended further in the social scale and became an "assassin."

Captain Pritcher, assassin, was in the palace itself, and found himself grimly pleased with his psychology. A thorough alarm system outside meant few guards within. In this case, it meant none at all.

The floor plan was clear in his mind. He was a blob moving noiselessly up the well-carpeted ramp. At its head, he flattened against the wall and waited.

The small closed door of a private room was before him. Behind that door must be the mutant who had beaten the unbeatable. He was early ?the bomb had ten minutes of life in it.

Five of these passed, and still in all the world there was no sound. The Mule had five minutes to live ?So had Captain Pritcher?

He stepped forward on sudden impulse. The plot could no longer fail. When the bomb went, the palace would go with it ?all the palace. A door between ?ten yards between ?was nothing. But he wanted to see the Mule as they died together.

In a last, insolent gesture, he thundered upon the door.

And it opened and let out the blinding light.

Captain Pritcher staggered, then caught himself. The solemn man, standing in the center of the small room before a suspended fish bowl, looked up mildly.

His uniform was a somber black, and as he tapped the bowl in an absent gesture, it bobbed quickly and the feather-finned, orange and vermilion fish within darted wildly.

He said, "Come in, captain!"

To the captain's quivering tongue the little metal globe beneath was swelling ominously ?a physical impossibility, the captain knew. But it was in its last minute of life.

The uniformed man said, "You had better spit out the foolish pellet and free yourself for speech. It won't blast."

The minute passed and with a slow, sodden motion the captain bent his head and dropped the silvery globe into his palm. With a furious force it was flung against the wall. It rebounded with a tiny, sharp clangor, gleaming harmlessly as it flew.

The uniformed man shrugged. "So much for that, then. It would have done you no good in any case, captain. I am not the Mule. You will have to be satisfied with his viceroy."

"How did you know?" muttered the captain, thickly.

"Blame it on an efficient counter-espionage system. I can name every member of your little gang, every step of their planning?

"And you let it go this far?"

"Why not? It has been one of my great purposes here to find you and some others. Particularly you. I might have had you some months ago, while you were still a worker at the Newton Bearings Works, but this is much better. If you hadn't suggested the main outlines of the plot yourself, one of my own men would have advanced something of much the same sort for you. The result is quite dramatic, and rather grimly humorous."

The captain's eyes were hard. "I find it so, too. Is it all over now?"

"Just begun. Come, captain, sit down. Let us leave heroics for the fools who are impressed by it. Captain, you are a capable man. According to the information I have, you were the first on the Foundation to recognize the power of the Mule. Since then you have interested yourself, rather daringly, in the Mule's early life. You have been one of those who carried off his clown, who, incidentally, has not yet been found, and for which there will yet be full payment. Naturally, your ability is recognized and the Mule is not of those who fear the ability of his enemies as long as he can convert it into the ability of a new friend."

"Is that what you're hedging up to? Oh, no!"

"Oh, yes! It was the purpose of tonight's comedy. You are an intelligent man, yet your little conspiracies against die Mule fail humorously. You can scarcely dignify it with the name of conspiracy. Is it part of your military training to waste ships in hopeless actions?"

"One must first admit them to be hopeless."

"One will," the viceroy assured him, gently. "The Mule has conquered the Foundation, It is rapidly being turned into an arsenal for accomplishment of his greater aims."

"What greater aims?"

"The conquest of the entire Galaxy. The reunion of all the tom worlds into a new Empire. The fulfillment, you dull-witted patriot, of your own Seldon's dream seven hundred years before he hoped to see it. And in the fulfillment, you can help us."

"I can, undoubtedly. But I won't, undoubtedly."

"I understand," reasoned the viceroy, "that only three of the Independent Trading Worlds yet resist. They will not last much longer. It will be the last of all Foundation forces. You still hold out."

"Yes."

"Yet you won't. A voluntary recruit is the, most efficient. But the other kind will do. Unfortunately, the Mule is absent. He leads the fight, as always, against the resisting Traders. But he is in continual contact with us. You will not have to wait long."

"For what?"

"For your conversion.

"The Mule," said the captain, frigidly, "will find that beyond his ability."

"But he won't. I was not beyond it. You don't recognize me? Come, you were on Kalgan, so you have seen me. I wore a monocle, a fur-lined scarlet robe, a high-crowned hat?

The captain stiffened in dismay. "You were the warlord of Kalgan."

"Yes. And now I am the loyal viceroy of the Mule. You see, he is persuasive."
第二十章 谋反者
　市长的官邸——或者应该说，一度曾是市长官邸的那栋雄伟建筑，隐隐约约耸立在黑暗中。端点市沦陷之后每晚都有宵禁，整个城市现在一片死寂。基地的天空中，横跨著壮观而蒙胧的乳白色“银河透”，还有几颗孤零零的星星在眨眼睛。　 过去的三个世纪，基地从一小群科学家私下的计划，发展到如今的贸易帝国，触角已经延伸到了银河系各个领域。然而，在短短的半年之间，它就从银河中至高无上的地位，沦落为一个沦陷区。
汉•普利吉上尉拒绝相信这个事实。
端点市寂静的夜晚一片肃杀之气，被侵略者占据的官邸没有一丝光线透出来，在在说明了这个事实。汉•普利吉上尉已经穿过了官邸的外门，舌头底下还含著一颗微型核弹，然而，他仍旧拒绝承认这一切。
此时一个身影飘然向他靠近，上尉立即低下头去。
他们交头接耳的声音压得非常低：“警报系统和平常一模一样，上尉，前进！你不会被发现的。”
上尉缓缓地低头穿越低矮的拱道，又经过两旁布满喷泉的小径，来到了原本属於茵德布尔的花园。
四个月以前，在穹窿中发生的变故，如今仍历历在目。当时的记忆一直徘徊不去，纵使他万般不愿，点点滴滴的印象仍会自动重现，尤其是在午夜。
老谢顿苦口婆心的言语，没想到竟然会错得那么离谱……穹窿中一片混乱的局面……茵德布尔憔悴而人事不省的脸孔，跟他过分华丽的市长礼服多么不相衬……惊惶的民众迅速地聚集，默默等待著不可避免的投降声明……杜伦那个年轻人，将骡的小丑背在肩上，从侧门一溜烟地消失……
至于他自己，后来也总算逃离了现场，却发现他的车子无法发动。
他挤在城市外的盲流群众中，左冲右撞一路向前走著——却毫无目的地。
他盲目地摸索著各个所谓的“老鼠窝”——民主地下组织大本营。这个地下组织整整发展了八十年，如今却全部销声匿迹。
结果，所有的老鼠窝都唱著空城计。
第二天，时时可见黑色的异邦星舰在天空中出现，缓缓地降落在城内的建筑群中。无助与绝望的感觉郁积在汉•普利吉上尉的心头，他内心感觉越来越沈重。
於是，普利吉上尉急切地开始了他的旅程。
在三十天之内，他几乎徒步走了二百哩的距离。途中，他在路边发现了一个刚死不久的尸体，那是一个水耕厂的工人，便将那工人的衣服剥下来换上。他还利用这段时间，留了满脸浓密的红褐色络腮胡……　 他终於找到了地下组织的余党。
地点是牛顿市一个原本很高级的住宅区，不过如今却已变得肮脏污秽。那栋房子与左邻右舍并没有任何不同，狭窄的房门打开著，门口有个男子站在那里一动不动。那人有一对小眼睛，骨架很大，肌肉盘蚓，两手握拳插在口袋里。
上尉喃喃地说：“我来自米兰。”
那人绷著脸，回答了另一句暗语：“米兰今年还早。”
上尉又说：“不比去年更早。”
可是那人却依然挡在门口，又问：“你到底是什么人？”
“你难道不是‘狐狸’吗？”
“你总是用问句来回答别人的问话吗？”
上尉暗自深呼吸了一下，然后镇定地说：“我是汉•普利吉，基地舰队的上尉军官，民主地下党党员。你到底要不要让我进去？”
“狐狸”这才向一旁让开，并且说：“我的本名叫欧如姆•波利。”说完他就伸出手来，上尉赶紧握住了他的手。
屋内维持得十分整洁，不过装潢并不奢华。角落处摆著一个装饰用的书报投影机，上尉训练有素的眼睛立刻看出那是一种伪装，它其实是一挺口径相当大的机铳。投影机的“镜头”刚好对著门口，而且显然可以遥控。
“狐狸”循着这位大胡子客人的目光看去，露出了僵硬的笑容，他说：“你猜得没错！不过当初装设这玩意，还是茵德布尔和他豢养的那些吸血鬼掌权的时代。这玩意根本无法对付骡，是吗？没有任何武器能够对付骡——你饿下饿？”
上尉的嘴角在大胡子底下微微抽动一下，然后点了点头。
“请稍等一下，只要一分钟就好了。” “狐狸”从橱柜中拿出几个罐头，将其中两个摆到普利吉上尉面前，又说：“把你的手指头放在上面，当你感到够热的时候，就可以打开来吃。我的加热控制器坏掉了，这种事情能够提醒你如今不是太平岁月，或者说，曾经有一段不太平的日子，对吧？”
“狐狸”急促的话语中夹杂著一些愉悦的字眼，可是他的口气却一点都不愉悦——他的眼神也一直很冷淡，仿佛是有什么心事。他在上尉对面坐了下来，又继续说：“如果我对你感到丝毫怀疑的话，你现在的位置就只剩下一团焦痕了。你知道为什么吗？”
上尉并没有回答，他轻轻一压，罐头就自动打开了。
“是浓汤！抱歉，目前粮食短缺。”　“狐狸”随口说道。
“我知道。”上尉吃得很快，连头也没有抬起来。
“狐狸”说：“我曾经见过你一次，我正在搜索自己的记忆，可是胡子却绝对不在我的记忆之中。”
“我有三十天没刮胡子了——”说完上尉突然发起火来，怒吼道：“你到底要什么？我说的暗语全部正确，我也有证明身份的文件。”
对方却摆摆手：“喔，我相信你是普利吉没错，可是最近有许多人，他们不但知道正确的暗语、具有身份证明文件，而且明明就是那个人——但是他们如今都在为骡工作。你听说过雷福吗？”
“听说过。”
“他投效了骡。”
“什么？他……”
“是的，同志全都说他是‘宁死不屈’。”　“狐狸”做了一个大笑的口形，可是既没有发出声音，也不是真的感到好笑。他又说：“还有威利克，投效了骡！盖雷和诺斯，投效了骡！普利吉又为何不可，不是吗？我怎么能肯定呢？”
上尉却只是猛摇著头。
“不过这一点并不重要。”“狐狸”又柔声地说： “如果诺斯叛变了，他们就一定知道我的名字——所以说，假使你是真正的同志，我们如今见了面，你今后的处境会比我更加危险。”
上尉终於吃完了，他靠著椅背说道：“如果你这里没有组织，我要到哪里才能找到另外一个？基地也许已经投降了，但是我自己还没有。”
“有道理！可是你却不能永远流浪，上尉。如今，基地的公民如果想出远门，必须具备旅行许可证，这点你知道吗？并且还需要身份证，你有吗？此外还有一道命令，叫所有原来属於基地舰队的军官，都要到最近的占领军司令部报到，所以你也必须去，是吗？”
“没错。”上尉的声音变得很刺耳：　“你以为我逃跑是因为我害怕吗？卡尔根被骡攻陷之后下久，我就跑到那里去了。在一个月之内，原先那个统领麾下的军官全部都被监禁，因为如果有任何叛乱，他们便是最称职的军事指挥宫。地下组织一向明白一个道理——如果不能控制部分的舰队，革命就绝对不可能成功。骡本人也一定了解这一点。”
“狐狸”心领神会地点著头：“分析得有道理，这件事骡做得很彻底。”
“我在第一时间就把制服丢掉，然后留起胡子。其他人之后可能也有机会做出同样的行动。”
“你结婚了吗？”
“我的妻子去世了，也没有子女。”
“这么说的话，你无牵无挂，没有任何亲人可以充当人质。”
“没错。”
“你想听听我的忠告吗？”
“如果你有的话。”
“我不知道骡的策略究竟是什么，也不知道他真正的意图，不过直到如今，技工们都没有受到任何的伤害。而且工资还提高了，各种核能武器的生产量也突然暴涨。”
“是吗？听来好像他准备继续进行侵略。”
“我不知道，骡是婊子养的狡猾至极的人物，他这么做，也许只是想要安抚工人，让他们心甘情愿地做顺民。如果连谢顿的心理史学也无法预测骡的行径，我绝不要自不量力。你刚好穿著工人的制服，这倒提醒了我们，不是吗？”
“我并不是一名技工。”
“你在军中修过核子学吧，有没有？”
“当然修过。”
“那就足够了。‘核场轴承公司’就在这个城里，你去应征，告诉他们说你有经验。那些当年帮茵德布尔管理工厂的王八蛋，仍然还是工厂的负责人——不过现在是改为骡效命。他们不会盘问你的，因为他们急需更多的工人，帮他们谋取包大的暴利。他们会发给你一张身份证，你还可以在员工住宅区申请到一间宿舍，我建议你现在就赶快去。”
就是这样，原属国家舰队的汉•普利吉上尉摇身一变，变成了“核场轴承公司四十五厂”的防护罩工——罗•莫洛。他的身份从一个情报员，滑落成为一名“谋反者”——由於这个转变，导致他在几个月之后，进入了茵德布尔的私人花园。
在这座花园中，普利吉上尉检查了一下手中的辐射计，发现宫邸内的警报场仍在运作，只好耐著性子等待。他嘴里含著的那颗核弹，只剩下了半个小时的寿命，他不时用舌头小心翼翼地拨弄著。
辐射计显示幕终於变成一片不祥的黑暗，上尉赶紧向前走。
直到目前为止，一切都进行得很顺利。
他突然很冷静而客观地想到，核弹所剩下的寿命与自己的刚好一样，它的死亡就等於自己的死亡——同时也等於是骡的死亡。
那时，将是四个月以来内心交战的最高潮。从逃亡时期开始，他就有了这个念头，等到进了牛顿市的工厂……
普利吉上尉穿著铅质的围裙，戴著厚重的面罩，日复一日地在工厂工作。他的一切军人气质与架式，在两个月之后就全部被磨光了。如今他只是一名劳工，靠双手挣钱，下工后在城中消磨半个晚上，而且绝口不谈论政治。
两个月以来，他一直没有再见到“狐狸”。
然后，有一天，一个人在他的工作台前一个踉跄，他的口袋中就多了一张小纸片，上面写的是“狐狸”。他顺手就将纸片扔进核能焚化槽中，纸片立时消失无踪，产生了大约一毫微焦耳的能量。他回过头来，继续开始工作。
那天晚上，他来到“狐狸”的家，遇到了另外两位久仰大名的人物。不久，四个人便玩起了扑克牌。
他们一面打著牌，让筹码在各人手中转来转去，一面开始闲聊起来。
上尉说：“这是最根本的错误，你们仍旧生活在早已不存在的过去。八十年来，我们的组织一直在等待正确的历史时刻。我们对谢顿的心理史学深信不疑——这门学问最重要的前提之一 ，就是个人的行为绝对不算数，绝不足以创造历史。因为复杂的社会与经济巨流会将他淹没，使个人成为历史的傀儡。”
他细心地整理苦手中的牌，估计了一下这副牌的点数，然后扔出一个筹码，再说：“为什么不干脆把骡杀掉？”
“哼，这样做有什么好处？”坐在上尉左边那人凶巴巴地问。
“你看——”上尉丢出两张牌，然后回答说：“就是这种态度在作祟。一个人只是银河人口的千兆之一，不可能因为一个人死了，银河就会停止转动。然而骡却不是人，他是一个突变种，他已经颠覆了谢顿的计划。你如果分析其中的含意，将会发现这就代表他——一个突变种——推翻了谢顿整个的心理史学。如果他从来未曾出现，基地就不可能沦陷；而如果他不再存在，基地就不会永远被占领下去。
“想想看，民主分子和市长以及行商斗了八十年，采取的都是温和、间接的方式，现在让我们来试试暗杀的手段。”
“怎么做？”　“狐狸”不置可否地插嘴问道。
上尉缓缓地回答：“我花了三个月的时间思考这个问题，却一直没有想到解决的办法，可是来到这里之后，五分钟之内就有了灵感。”
他瞥了坐在他右方那人一眼，那人的脸庞宽阔红润，好像半个大西瓜。然后上尉继续说：“你过去曾经是茵德布尔市长的侍从官，我从来不晓得你也是地下组织的一员。”
“我也不知道你竟然也是。”
“好，那么，你身为市长的侍从官，由於职责所在，必须定期检查官邸的警报系统。”
“的确如此。”
“如今，骡就住在那个官邸中。”
“是这么公布的。不过身为一位征服者，骡要算是十分谦逊——他从来不做公开演讲或发表声明，也一直未曾在任何场合公开露面。”
“这件事情人尽皆知，不过它并不会影响我们的计划。你，前任的侍从官，我们有你就够了。”
大家摊牌之后，“狐狸”将其他三人的筹码收了去。然后他又慢慢地发牌，开始新的一局。
曾经担任侍从官的那个人，将牌一张一张拿起来，同时说道：“抱歉，上尉，我过去虽然常常检查警报系统，不过那只是例行公事，我对它的构造一窍不通。”
“这点我也想到了，不过其中控制器的线路已经印在你的脑海中。如果我们使用心灵探测器，探测到深层的话——”
那人红润的脸庞顿时变得煞白，并且一下子拉得好长，手中的牌也被他一把捏皱。他尖叫道：“心灵探测器？”
“你用不著担心，”上尉用精明的口吻说：“我知道如何使用，绝不会伤害到你，你顶多只会感到有些虚弱，休息几天就没事了。如果成功的话，你的冒险就算是你付出的小小代价。在我们中间，—定有人能从警报控制器推算出波长的组合，也一定有人会制造定时的小型核弹，而我自己负责将核弹带到骡的身边。”
於是四个人把牌丢开，聚在一块研究起来。
上尉又宣：“在预定的那天傍晚，在端点市的官邸敖近安排一场骚动。不必要有真正的打斗，制造一阵混乱，然后立刻一哄而敌就行了。只要将官邸警卫吸引过去……或者，至少要分散他们的注意力……”
从那天开始，他们足足准备了一个月。从国家舰队上尉军官变成谋反者的汉•普利吉，他的身份又再度滑落，这一次，变成了一名“刺客”。
现在，汉•普利吉这名刺客已经进入了官邸，对於自己熟用心理学的结果，他感到一阵冷漠的骄傲。他早就预料到，由於外面配置了完善的警报系统，因此官邸里面不会有什么警卫。而实际的情况，则是根本没有一个警卫。
辟邸的平面图他早已背得滚瓜烂熟，现在他就像是一个小黑点，在铺著地毯的坡道上迅疾无声地移动。来到坡道尽头之后，他立刻紧贴著墙壁，等待最后一步的行动。
在他面前是一个私人起居室，一道小门紧紧锁著，在门的后面，一定就是那个屡创奇迹的突变种。其实他还来早了一点——核弹还有十分钟的寿命。
十分钟过去一半之后，周遭的一切仍然是一片死寂。骡只剩下五分钟好活了，而普利吉上尉也是一样……
他的心头突然起了一阵冲动，遂起身向前走去——这个行刺计划绝不可能失败了，当核弹爆炸时，官邸贬变得片瓦不存，一切都将灰飞烟灭。骡与自己仅隔著一扇门，仅仅十码的距离、根本不会有什么差别。可是，在他们同归於尽之前，他想亲眼看看骡的真面目。
他终於豁了出去，抬头挺胸大步走向前，使劲敲著门——
门应声而开，眩目的光线随即射了出来。
普利吉上尉错愕片刻，马上又恢复了镇定。他看见一个外表严肃、穿著灰暗制服的男子，站在这个小房问的正中央，气定神闲地抬起头来望著他。
那人的身前吊著一个鱼缸，他随手轻轻敲了一下，鱼缸就迅速摇蔽起来，把那些色彩艳丽的名贵金鱼吓得上下乱窜。
那人终於开口：“上尉，进来！”
上尉的舌头打著颤，舌头下面的小金属球似乎开始膨胀，彷佛在进行爆炸前的准备动作——他自己也知道这是不可能的事。然而，核弹的生命已经进入最后一分钟，却是一件不可否认的事实。
穿制服的人又说：“你最好把那颗无聊的药丸吐出来，否则你根本没有办法说话。放心，它不会爆炸的。”
最后一分钟终於过去，上尉怔怔地慢慢低下头，将银色的小球吐到手掌上，然后使尽力气掷向墙壁。一下细微尖锐的“叮当”声之后，小球从半空中反弹回来，在光线照耀下闪闪生辉——就是如此而已。
穿制服的人耸耸肩：“好啦，别再理会那玩意了，上尉，这无论如何对你没有好处。我并不是骡，在你面前的是他的总督。”
“你是怎么知道的？”上尉以沙哑的声音喃喃问道。
“你要怪只能怪我们高效率的反问系统。你们那个小小的叛乱团体，我可以念出每一个成员的名字，还数得出你们每一步的计划……”
“而你一直装聋作哑到现在？”
“有何不可？我来此地最重要的任务之一　，就是要把你们这些人揪出来——尤其是你。几个月以前，当你还是‘牛顿轴承厂’的工人时，我就可以逮捕你了，但是现在这样子更好。即使你自己没有提出这个计划，我的手下也会有人提出类似的计划。这个结局十分，戏剧化，算得上是一种黑色幽默。”
上尉以凌厉的目光瞪著对方：　“我也有同感，现在是否一切都结束了？”
“好戏才刚开始呢。来，上尉，坐下来，让我们把成仁取义的壮举抛到一边，只有傻瓜才会相信那一套。上尉，你非常有才干，根据我所掌握的情报，你是基地上第一个了解到骡有超凡能力的人。从那时候开始，你就对骡的早年发生了兴趣，不顾一切地搜集他的资料。拐走骡的小丑那件事你也有份，那个小丑我们至今还没有找到，将来为了这件事，我们还要好好算个总帐。当然，骡也了解你的才干，有些人会害怕敌人太厉害，但骡可不是那种人，因为他有化敌为友的本领。”
“所以你现在还对我那么客气？喔，不可能！”
“喔，绝对可能！这就是今晚这出喜剧的真正目的。你是一个聪明人，可是你对付骡的小小阴谋却失败得很滑稽，你甚至不配将它称为‘阴谋’。在毫无胜算的晴况下还要白白送死，难道这就是你所接受的军事教育吗？”
“首先得确定是否真的毫无胜算。”
“当然确定。”那位总督以温和的口气回答：“骡已经征服了基地，然后为了达成更伟大的目标，立刻将基地变成一座大兵工厂。”
“什么更伟大的目标？”
“就是征服整个银河，将四分五裂的各个世界统一成新的帝国。你这个冥顽不灵的爱国者，骡就是要实现你们那个谢顿的梦想，只不过比谢顿预期的提早七百年。而在实现这个目标的过程中，你可以帮得上一点忙。”
“我一定可以，但是我也一定不会做。”
“据我了解，”那位总督劝道：“目前只剩下三个独立行商世界还在作困兽之斗，但他们不会支撑太久的。解决他们之后，基地体系的武力就会彻底从银河中消失。你还不肯认输吗？”
“没错！”
“可是你终究会肯的。心悦诚服的归顺是最有效的，不过还有其他办法可以做得到。可惜骡不在这里，他正率领大军亲征顽抗的行商，如同过去每一场战役一样。不过他与我们一直保持联络，你不需要等太久。”
“等什么？”
“等他来使你‘回转’。”
“那个骡——”上尉以冰冷的口气说：“会发现他根本做不到。”
“他会的，我自己就无法抗拒。你认不出我了吗？想一想，你到过卡尔根，所以一定见过我。我当时戴著单眼镜，穿一件深红色毛皮里的礼服，头上戴著一顶高筒帽……”
上尉听到这里，突然感到一阵寒意，全身立即僵硬起来。他吃力地问：“你就是卡尔根原来的统领？”
“是的，不过我现在是骡手下一名忠心耿耿的总督。你看，他的感化力量多么强大！”
21. INTERLUDE IN SPACE


The blockade was run successfully. In the vast volume of space, not all the navies ever in existence could keep their watch in tight proximity. Given a single ship, a skillful pilot, and a moderate degree of luck, and there are holes and to spare.

With cold-eyed calm, Toran drove a protesting vessel from the vicinity of one star to that of another. If the neighborhood of great mass made an interstellar jump erratic and difficult, it also made the enemy detection devices useless or nearly so.

And once the girdle of ships had been passed the inner sphere of dead space, through whose blockaded sub-ether no message could be driven, was passed as well. For the first time in over three months Toran felt unisolated.

A week passed before the enemy news programs dealt with anything more than the dull, self-laudatory details of growing control over the Foundation. It was a week in which Toran's armored trading ship fled inward from the Periphery in hasty jumps.

Ebling Mis called out to the pilot room and Toran rose blink-eyed from his charts.

"What's the matter?" Toran stepped down into the small central chamber which Bayta had inevitably devised into a living room.

Mis shook his head, "Bescuppered if I know. The Mule's newsmen are announcing a special bulletin. Thought you might want to get in on it."

"Might as well. Where's Bayta?"

"Setting the table in the diner and picking out a menuor some such frippery."

Toran sat down upon the cot that served as Magnifico's bed, and waited. The propaganda routine of the Mule's "special bulletins" were monotonously similar. First the martial music, and then the buttery slickness of the announcer. The minor news items would come, following one another in patient lock step. Then the pause. Then the trumpets and the rising excitement and the climax.

Toran endured it. Mis muttered to himself.

The newscaster spilled out, in conventional war-correspondent phraseology, the unctuous words that translated into sound the molten metal and blasted flesh of a battle in space.

"Rapid cruiser squadrons under Lieutenant General Sammin hit back hard today at the task force striking out from Iss? The carefully expressionless face of the speaker upon the screen faded into the blackness of a space cut through by the quick swaths of ships reeling across emptiness in deadly battle. The voice continued through the soundless thunder

"The most striking action of the battle was the subsidiary combat of the heavy cruiser Cluster against three enemy ships of the 'Nova' class?

The screen's view veered and closed in. A great ship sparked and one of the frantic attackers glowed angrily, twisted out of focus, swung back and rammed. The Cluster bowed wildly and survived the glancing blow that drove the attacker off in twisting reflection.

The newsman's smooth unimpassioned delivery continued to the last blow and the last hulk.

Then a pause, and a large similar voice-and-picture of the fight off Mnemon, to which the novelty was added of a lengthy description of a hit-and-run landing ?the picture of a blasted city ?huddled and weary prisoners ?and off again.

Mnemon had not long to live.

The pause again ?and this time the raucous sound of the expected brasses. The screen faded into the long, impressively soldier-lined corridor up which the government spokesman in councilor's uniform strode quickly.

The silence was oppressive.

The voice that came at last was solemn, slow and hard: "By order of our sovereign, it is announced that the planet, Haven, hitherto in warlike opposition to his will, has submitted to the acceptance of defeat. At this moment, the forces of our sovereign are occupying the planet. Opposition was scattered, unco-ordinated, and speedily crushed."

The scene faded out, the original newsman returned to state importantly that other developments would be transmitted as they occurred.

Then there was dance music, and Ebling Mis threw the shield that cut the power.

Toran rose and walked unsteadily away, without a word. The psychologist made no move to stop him.

When Bayta stepped out of the kitchen, Mis motioned silence.

He said, "They've taken Haven."

And Bayta said, "Already?" Her eyes were round, and sick with disbelief.

"Without a fight. Without an unprin? He stopped and swallowed. "You'd better leave Toran alone. It's not pleasant for him. Suppose we eat without him this once."

Bayta looked once toward the pilot room, then turned hopelessly. "Very well!"

Magnifico sat unnoticed at the table. He neither spoke nor ate but stared ahead with a concentrated fear that seemed to drain all the vitality out of his thread of a body.

Ebling Mis pushed absently at his iced-fruit dessert and said, harshly, "Two Trading worlds fight. They fight, and bleed, and die and don't surrender. Only at Haven ?Just as at the Foundation?

"But why? Why?"

The psychologist shook his head. "It's of a piece with all the problem. Every queer facet is a hint at the nature of the Mule. First, the problem of how he could conquer the Foundation, with little blood, and at a single blow essentially ?while the Independent Trading Worlds held out. The blanket on nuclear reactions was a puny weapon ?we've discussed that back and forth till I'm sick of it ?and it did not work on any but the Foundation.

"Randu suggested," and Ebling's grizzly eyebrows pulled together, "it might have been a radiant Will-Depresser. It's what might have done the work on Haven. But then why wasn't it used on Mnemon and Iss ?which even now fight with such demonic intensity that it is taking half the Foundation fleet in addition to the Mule's forces to beat them down. Yes, I recognized Foundation ships in the attack."

Bayta whispered, "The Foundation, then Haven. Disaster seems to follow us, without touching. We always seem to get out by a hair. Will it last forever?"

Ebling Mis was not listening. To himself, he was making a point. "But there's another problem ?another problem. Bayta, you remember the news item that the Mule's clown was not found on Terminus; that it was suspected he had fled to Haven, or been carried there by his original kidnappers. There is an importance attached to him, Bayta, that doesn't fade, and we have not located it yet. Magnifico must know something that is fatal to the Mule. I'm sure of it. "

Magnifico, white and stuttering, protested, "Sire ... noble lord ... indeed, I swear it is past my poor reckoning to penetrate your wants. I have told what I know to the utter limits, and with your probe, you have drawn out of my meager wit that which I knew, but knew not that I knew."

"I know ... I know. It is something small. A hint so small that neither you nor I recognize it for what it is. Yet I must find it ?for Mnemon and Iss will go soon, and when they do, we are the last remnants, the last droplets of the independent Foundation."

The stars begin to cluster closely when the core of the Galaxy is penetrated. Gravitational fields begin to overlap at intensities sufficient to introduce perturbations in an interstellar jump that can not be overlooked.

Toran became aware of that when a jump landed their ship in the full glare of a red giant which clutched viciously, and whose grip was loosed, then wrenched apart, only after twelve sleepless, soul-battering hours.

With charts limited in scope, and an experience not at all fully developed, either operationally or mathematically, Toran resigned himself to days of careful plotting between jumps.

It became a community project of a sort. Ebling Mis checked Toran's mathematics and Bayta tested possible routes, by the various generalized methods, for the presence of real solutions. Even Magnifico was put to work on the calculating machine for routine computations, a type of work, which, once explained, was a source of great amusement to him and at which he was surprisingly proficient.

So at the end of a month, or nearly, Bayta was able to survey the red line that wormed its way through the ship's trimensional model of the Galactic Lens halfway to its center, and say with Satiric relish, "You know what it looks like. It looks like a ten-foot earth-worm with a terrific case of indigestion. Eventually, you'll land us back in Haven."

"I will," growled Toran, with a fierce rustle of his chart, "if you don't shut up."

"And at that," continued Bayta, "there is probably a route fight through, straight as a meridian of longitude."

"Yeah? Well, in the first place, dimwit, it probably took five hundred ships five hundred years to work out that route by hit-and-miss, and my lousy half-credit charts don't give it. Besides, maybe those straight routes are a good thing to avoid. They're probably choked up with ships. And besides?

"Oh, for Galaxy's sake, stop driveling and slavering so much righteous indignation." Her hands were in his hair.

He yowled, "Ouch! Let go!" seized her wrists and whipped downward, whereupon Toran, Bayta, and chair formed a tangled threesome on the floor. It degenerated into a panting wrestling match, composed mostly of choking laughter and various foul blows.

Toran broke loose at Magnifico's breathless entrance.

"What is it?"

The lines of anxiety puckered the clown's face and tightened the skin whitely over the enormous bridge of his nose. "The instruments are behaving queerly, sir. I have not, in the knowledge of my ignorance, touched anything?

In two seconds, Toran was in the pilot room. He said quietly to Magnifico, "Wake up Ebling Mis. Have him come down here."

He said to Bayta, who was trying to get a basic order back to her hair by use of her fingers, "We've been detected, Bay."

"Detected?" And Bayta's arms dropped. "By whom?"

"Galaxy knows," muttered Toran, "but I imagine by someone with blasters already ranged and trained."

He sat down and in a low voice was already sending into the sub-ether the ship's identification code.

And when Ebling Mis entered, bathrobed and blear-eyed, Toran said with a desperate calm, "It seems we're inside the borders of a local Inner Kingdom which is called the Autarchy of Filia."

"Never heard of it," said Mis, abruptly.

"Well, neither did I," replied Toran, "but we're being stopped by a Filian ship just the same, and I don't know what it will involve."

The captain-inspector of the Filian ship crowded aboard with six armed men following him. He was short, thin-haired, thin-lipped, and dry-skinned. He coughed a sharp cough as he sat down and threw open the folio under his arm to a blank page.

"Your passports and ship's clearance, please."

"We have none," said Toran.

"None, hey?" he snatched up a microphone suspended from his belt and spoke into it quickly, "Three men and one woman. Papers not in order." He made an accompanying notation in the folio.

He said, "Where are you from?"

"Siwenna," said Toran warily.

"Where is that?"

"Thirty thousand parsecs, eighty degrees west Trantor, forty degrees?

"Never mind, never mind!" Toran could see that his inquisitor had written down: "Point of origin ?Periphery."

The Filian continued, "Where are you going?"

Toran said, "Trantor sector."

"Purpose?"

"Pleasure trip."

"Carrying any cargo?"

"No."

"Hm-mmm. We'll check on that." He nodded and two men jumped to activity. Toran made no move to interfere.

"What brings you into Filian territory?" The Filian's eyes gleamed unamiably.

"We didn't know we were. I lack a proper chart."

"You will be required to pay a hundred credits for that lack ?and, of course, the usual fees required for tariff duties, et cetera."

He spoke again into the microphone ?but listened more than he spoke. Then, to Toran, "Know anything about nuclear technology?"

"A little," replied Toran, guardedly.

"Yes?" The Filian closed his folio, and added, "The men of the Periphery have a knowledgeable reputation that way. Put on a suit and come with me."

Bayta stepped forward, "What are you going to do with him?"

Toran put her aside gently, and asked coldly, "Where do you want me to come?"

"Our power plant needs minor adjustments. He'll come with you." His pointing finger aimed directly at Magnifico, whose brown eyes opened wide in a blubbery dismay.

"What's he got to do with it?" demanded Toran fiercely.

The official looked up coldly. "I am informed of pirate activities in this vicinity. A description of one of the known thugs tallies roughly. It is a purely routine matter of identification. "

Toran hesitated, but six men and six blasters are eloquent arguments. He reached into the cupboard for the suits.

An hour later, he rose upright in the bowels of the Filian ship and raged, "There's not a thing wrong with the motors that I can see. The busbars are true, the L-tubes are feeding properly and the reaction analysis checks. Who's in charge here?"

The head engineer said quietly, "I am."

"Well, get me out of here?

He was led to the officers' level and the small anteroom held only an indifferent ensign.

"Where's the man who came with me?"

"Please wait," said the ensign.

It was fifteen minutes later that Magnifico was brought in.

"What did they do to you?" asked Toran quickly.

"Nothing. Nothing at all." Magnifico's head shook a slow negative.

It took two hundred and fifty credits to fulfill the demands of Filia ?fifty credits of it for instant release ?and they were in free space again.

Bayta said with a forced laugh, "Don't we rate an escort? Don't we get the usual figurative boot over the border?"

And Toran replied, grimly, "That was no Filian ship ?and we're not leaving for a while. Come in here."

They gathered about him.

He said, whitely, "That was a Foundation ship, and those were the Mule's men aboard."

Ebling bent to pick up the cigar he had dropped. He said, "Here? We're fifteen thousand parsecs from the Foundation. "

"And we're here. What's to prevent them from making the same trip. Galaxy, Ebling, don't you think I can tell ships apart? I saw their engines, and that's enough for me. I tell you it was a Foundation engine in a Foundation ship."

"And how did they get here?" asked Bayta, logically. "What are the chances of a random meeting of two given ships in space?"

"What's that to do with it?" demanded Toran, hotly. "It would only show we've been followed."

"Followed?" hooted Bayta. "Through hyperspace?"

Ebling Mis interposed wearily, "That can be done ?given a good ship and a great pilot. But the possibility doesn't impress me."

"I haven't been masking my trail," insisted Toran. "I've been building up take-off speed on the straight. A blind man could have calculated our route."

"The blazes he could," cried Bayta. "With the cockeyed jumps you are making, observing our initial direction didn't mean a thing. We came out of the jump wrong-end forwards more than once."

"We're wasting time," blazed Toran, with gritted teeth. "It's a Foundation ship under the Mule. It's stopped us. It's searched us. It's had Magnifico ?alone ?with me as hostage to keep the rest of you quiet, in case you suspected. And we're going to bum it out of space right now."

"Hold on now," and Ebling Mis clutched at him. "Are you going to destroy us for one ship you think is an enemy? Think, man, would those scuppers chase us over an impossible route half through the bestinkered Galaxy, look us over, and then let us go?"

"They're still interested in where we're going."

"Then why stop us and put us on our guard? You can't have it both ways, you know."

"I'll have it my way. Let go of me, Ebling, or I'll knock you down."

Magnifico leaned forward from his balanced perch on his favorite chair back. His long nostrils flared with excitement. "I crave your pardon for my interruption, but my poor mind is of a sudden plagued with a queer thought."

Bayta anticipated Toran's gesture of annoyance, and added her grip to Ebling's. "Go ahead and speak, Magnifico. We will all listen faithfully."

Magnifico said, "In my stay in their ship what addled wits I have were bemazed and bemused by a chattering fear that befell men. Of a truth I have a lack of memory of most that happened. Many men staring at me, and talk I did not understand. But towards the last ?as though a beam of sunlight had dashed through a cloud rift ?there was a face I knew. A glimpse, the merest glimmer ?and yet it glows in my memory ever stronger and brighter."

Toran said, "Who was it?"

"That captain who was with us so long a time ago, when first you saved me from slavery."

It had obviously been Magnifico's intention to create a sensation, and the delighted smile that curled broadly in the shadow of his proboscis, attested to his realization of the intention's success.

"Captain ... Han ... Pritcher?" demanded Mis, sternly. "You're sure of that? Certain sure now?"

"Sir, I swear," and he laid a bone-thin hand upon his narrow chest. "I would uphold the truth of it before the Mule and swear it in his teeth, though all his power were behind him to deny it."

Bayta said in pure wonder, "Then what's it all about?" The clown faced her eagerly, "My lady, I have a theory. It came upon me, ready made, as though the Galactic Spirit had gently laid it in my mind." He actually raised his voice above Toran's interrupting objection.

"My lady," he addressed himself exclusively to Bayta, "if this captain had, like us, escaped with a ship; if he, like us, were on a trip for a purpose of his own devising; if he blundered upon us ?he would suspect us of following and waylaying him, as we suspect him of the like. What wonder he played this comedy to enter our ship?"

"Why would he want us in his ship, then?" demanded Toran. "That doesn't fit."

"Why, yes, it does," clamored the clown, with a flowing inspiration. "He sent an underling who knew us not, but who described us into his microphone. The listening captain would be struck at my own poor likeness ?for, of a truth there are not many in this great Galaxy who bear a resemblance to my scantiness. I was the proof of the identity of the rest of you."

"And so he leaves us?"

"What do we know of his mission, and the secrecy thereof? lie has spied us out for not an enemy and having it done so, must he needs think it wise to risk his plan by widening the knowledge thereof?"

Bayta said slowly, "Don't be stubborn, Torie. It does explain things."

"It could be," agreed Mis.

Toran seemed helpless in the face of united resistance. Something in the clown's fluent explanations bothered him. Something was wrong. Yet he was bewildered and, in spite of himself, his anger ebbed.

"For a while," he whispered, "I thought we might have had one of the Mule's ships."

And his eyes were dark with the pain of Haven's loss.

The others understood.
第二十一章 星空插曲
　　他们成功地突破了封锁线！在广袤的太空中，从来不曾有任何舰队，能够坚守住每一个角落、每一寸空隙。只要有一艘船舰，一名优异的驾驶员，再加上还算不差的运气，就应该能够找到漏洞突围而出。
杜伦镇定地驾驶著状况欠佳的太空船，从一颗恒星的附近跃迁到另一颗恒星。当恒星的质量太大时，屋际跃迁会加倍困难，结果也会脱离常轨，然而，这样也会使得敌人的侦测装置失灵，或者几乎无用武之地。
一旦冲出敌方星舰形成的包围圈，也就等於穿越了被封锁的死寂太空。过去的三个月，在次以太也被严密封锁的情况下，没有任何的信息往返其间。三个月来，杜伦第一次不再感到孤独。
一个星期过去了，敌方的新闻节目总是播报著无聊而自我吹嘘的战争捷报，钜细靡遗地详述对於基地体系控制的进展。在这一周中，杜伦的武装太空商船历经了数次匆促的跃迁，从银河外缘一路向核心进发。
艾布林•米斯在驾驶舱外面大声叫嚷，杜伦眨眨眼睛，从星图中抬起头来。
“怎么回事？”杜伦走进了中央那间小舱房。由於这次乘客过多，贝妲已经将这个舱房改装成起居舱。
米斯摇摇头：“如果我知道才有鬼呢。骡的播报员好像要宣布一项特殊战况报告，我想你也许想要听一听。”
“也好，贝妲人呢？”
“她在厨舱里忙著布置餐桌、研究菜单——或者诸如此类的无聊事。”
杜伦在马巨擘睡的便床上坐下来，静静地等著听那个特别报导。骡的“特殊战况报告”的宣传手法几乎千篇一律，首先播放雄壮的军乐，然后是播报员谄媚的花言巧语。接著萤幕上出现一些无关紧要的小新闻，一则接著一则掠过萤幕。之后是短暂的间歇，再响起号角声，还有人群逐渐提高的欢呼，最后达到高潮。
杜伦忍受著这些精神轰炸，米斯则对自己喃喃自语。
新闻播报员兴高采烈地喋喋不休，用战地记者的做作口吻，叙述著太空中一场激战过后，战场上到处可见的熔融金属，以及被轰得四散纷飞的血肉。
“由沙敏中将所率领的快速巡弋舰中队，今天对伊斯的特遗舰队施以严重的痛击……”萤幕上播报员谨慎严肃的面容逐渐淡去，背景变成了漆黑的太空，接著便出现激战的场面。一排排船舰跌跌撞撞迅速划过长空，然后在无声的大爆炸中，又传来了播报员的声音：“在这场战役中最惊人的行动，就是重型巡弋舰‘星团号’如何对抗三艘‘新星级’的敌舰，这是一场惊天动地的殊死战。”
此时萤幕的画面转换了角度，并且变成了近镜头。一艘巨大的星舰喷出耀眼的光焰，把对方一艘星舰照得通红。对方星舰立刻一个急转，跳出了焦距而变得模糊不清，然后它又掉过头来，向巨舰猛撞过去。“星团号”陡然一倾，与敌舰仅仅擦身而过，并将敌舰猛力反弹回去。
播报员平稳而不带感情的声音，继续不断地报导著战争的详情，直到消灭了敌方最后一艘船舰，以及最后一兵一卒为止。
在短暂的停顿之后，又开始报导对涅蒙的战事，几乎都是大同小异的画面，大同小异的叙述。只不过这次还加入了一个新奇的题材，就是有关攻击性登陆的冗长报导——被夷为焦上的城市、挤成一团的战俘、星舰再度升空的画面……
涅蒙也不可能支持太久了。
报导再度暂停，照例又响起了刺耳的金属管乐。萤幕的画面逐渐化作一个长长的回廊，两旁站满了士兵，看起来气势非凡。穿著顾问官制服的政府发言人，从回廊尽头趾高气昂地快步走出来。
此时萤幕内外都是一片凝重的静寂。
发言人终於开始发言，他的声音听来严肃、缓慢而冷酷：“奉元首命令，本人在此作如下之宣布：长久以来，一直以武力反抗元首意志的赫汶星，如今已向我方正式投降。就在这个时候，元首的军队业已占领该行星。反抗力量四处窜逃，变成一群乌合之众，已迅速被消灭殆尽。”
杯面再度转换成原先的那名播报员，他一本正经地宣布：从现在开始，会随时插播其他重要的后续发展。
然后传来了舞蹈音乐，艾布林•米斯随手一拨电罩，切断了电视幕的电源。
杜伦站起身来，摇摇蔽晃地走了开，一句话也没有说，心理学家并没有试图阻止他。
当贝妲从厨舱中走出来时，米斯对她做了一个手势，示意她不要开口。
然后米斯对她说：“他们攻下了赫汶。”
贝妲叫道：“这么快？”她的眼睛睁得老大，透出不敢置信的疑惑。
“根本没有任何抵抗，根本没有任何××……”他及时煞住车，把后面的话吞了回去，改口说：“你最好让杜伦一个人静一静，这对他而言可不是什么愉快的事，这顿晚餐我们就别等他了。”
贝妲又抬头看看驾驶舱，然后转过头来，露出无可奈何的表情。“好吧。”
马巨擘默默地坐在餐桌旁，既不说话也不开始吃东西，只是以充满恐惧的大眼睛瞪著前方，彷佛恐惧感消耗了他瘦弱身子中所有的元气。
艾布林•米斯心不在焉地拨弄著果冻，粗声说道：“其他两个行商世界都还在抵抗，他们决心奋战到底，前仆后继，宁死不降。只有赫汶——就像当初的基地一样……”
“但是究竟为什么呢？为什么？”
心理学家摇摇头：“这是那个大问题的一个小狈节，每一件不可思议的疑点，都是解开骡的真面目的一个线索。第一点，当独立行商世界仍在顽抗时，他如何能够一举就征服基地，而且几乎是兵不血刃。那种使核反应停止的武器，其实根本微不足道——我们一而再、再而三地讨论这件事，我简直要烦死了——而且，那种武器只有对付基地时才有效，在别的场合就不灵了。”
艾布林灰白的眉毛皱在一起，又说：“我曾经向蓝度提出一个假设，骡可能拥有一种辐射式‘意志抑制器’，赫汶可能就是受到这种东西的作用。可是，他为什么不用它来对付涅蒙和伊斯呢？那两个世界如今还在疯狂地拼命抵抗，除了骡原有的兵力之外，还需要动用基地舰队的半数——是的，我注意到基地的星舰也在攻击阵容之中。”
贝妲小声说道：“先是基地，然后是赫汶，灾难似乎一直跟在我们脚后，伹我们总是在千钧一发之际逃脱了，这种事情会一直持续下去吗？”
艾布林•米斯并没有注意她说些什么，他好像是在跟自己进行讨论：“但还有另外一个问题——另外一个问题。贝妲，你有没有注意到一则新闻——他们没有在端点星找到骡的小丑，所以怀疑他逃到了赫汶，或者是被原来绑架他的人带走了。马巨擘似乎很重要，贝妲，而且至今仍旧如此，只不过我们还没有找出原因来。他一定知道什么事情，这件事会对骡造成致命的打击，我可以肯定这一点。”
马巨擘听到这里，已经脸色煞白，全身不住打颤。他赶紧为自己辩护：“伟大的先生……尊贵的大爷……真的，我发誓，我这个不灵光的脑袋，没法子满足您的要求。我已经知无不言、言无不尽。而且，您还用了探测器，从我的笨脑袋里抽出了我所知道的一切，甚趾蟋我自己以为不知道的事，您现在都已经知道了。”
“我知道……我知道。但我指的是一件小事，一个很小很小的线索，你我都未能察觉它究竟是什么。可是我必须把它找出来——因为涅蒙和伊斯很快就会沦陷，当它们落到骡的手中之后，整个基地体系就只剩下我们几个了。”
当他们的太空船穿入银河内围之俊，恒星开始变得密集而拥挤，各个星体的重力场累加起来，达到了相当的强度，对於星际跃迁产生了不可忽略的微扰。
直到太空船在一次跃迁后出现在一个红巨星的烈焰中，几乎无法挣脱猛烈的重力拖曳，杜伦方才察觉这种微扰不可忽视。他们不眠不休，整整努力了十二个小时，才终於挣脱强大的重力场，逃离了这颗红巨星的势力范围。
由於星图所示的范围有限，而且不论是操作太空船，或是做航道的数学演算，杜伦都缺乏足够的经验，他只好步步为营，在每一次跃迁之前，总是花上几天功夫仔细计算。
后来，这个工作变成了一项集体行动。艾布林•米斯负责检查杜伦的数学计算；贝坦负责利用各种方法测试可能的航道；甚趾蟋马巨擘都有事可做，他的工作是使用计算机做例行运算。在学缓笏如何操作之后，这份工作为马巨擘带来极大的乐趣，而且他竟然做得又快又好。
大约在一个月之后，贝坦已经能够从银河透镜的立体模型中，研读婉蜒曲折的红色航道。根据这个航道，他们距离银河中心还有一半的航程。
她以讽刺的口吻跟杜伦开玩笑：“你知道这像什么吗？就像是一条十尺长的蚯蚓，可是患了严重的消化不良症。依我看，你迟早会带我们回赫汶去。”
“我会的，如果你不给我闭嘴的话。”杜伦没好气地回答，同时把星图扯得嘎嘎作响。
贝妲继续说：“也许有一条直线的航道，就像黄经的经线那么直。”
“是吗？嗯，第一，你这个小傻瓜，如果光用尝试错误的方法摸索，至少需要五百艘船舰，用五百年的时间才找得到这种航道。我用的这些廉价的三流星图，上面根本一点线索也没有。此外，这种直线航道最好能避开就避开，途中也许早就有好多敌舰在等著我们。还有……”
“喔，看在银河的份上，请你停止这些义正辞严、没完没了的唠叨。”她一面说，一面用双手扯他的头发。
杜伦吼道：“喔！放开我！”他伸手抓住她的手腕，用力往下猛拉。然后杜伦跟贝妲便一起滚到地板上，两个人跟一张椅子扭成一团。不久之后，扭打变成了角力，不时传出阵阵喘息与气结的笑声，还有各种显然犯规的动作。
当马巨擘不声不响地走进来的时候，杜伦赶紧站了起来。
“有什么事？”
小丑的脸上挤满了忧虑的线条，又大又长的鼻子现在毫无血色。他气急败坏地说：“尊贵的先生，仪器的读数突然变得好古怪。不过我有自知之明，不敢碰任何东西……”
两秒钟之后，杜伦已经来到了驾驶舱，他对马巨擘轻声地说：“把艾布林•米斯叫醒，请他到这里来。”
贝妲正在用手指略微整理著弄乱的头发，突然听到杜伦对她说：“贝，我们被发现了。”
“被发现了？”贝妲立刻放下手臂：“被什么人发现？”
“天晓得，”杜伦喃喃地说：“但是我可以想像，对方一定拥有武器，而且已经进入射程之内，正在瞄准我们。”
说完他又坐了下来，轻声报出了太空船的识别码，这个讯息随即经由次以太传送出去。
当穿著浴袍的艾布林•米斯睡眼惺忪地走进来时，杜伦以过度冷静的口气向他说：“我们似乎闯进了内围一个小王国的领域，这王国叫作‘菲利亚自治领’。”
“从来没有听过。”米斯粗声说道。
“是啊，我也没听说过。”杜伦回答：“可是无论如何，我们被一艘菲利亚的星舰拦了下来，我不知道会发生什么事情。”
菲利亚缉私舰的舰长带著六名武装人员，强行登上了“贝坦号”。舰长的个子矮小，头发稀疏，嘴唇很薄，皮肤粗糙。他一屁股就坐下来，先猛力咳嗽一声，然后打开原本挟在腋下的卷宗，翻到空白的一页。
“你们每个人的护照，还有太空船的航行许可证，请拿出来。”
“我们没有这些东西。”杜伦答道。
“没有，啊？”舰长抓起挂在腰带上的微音器，流利地说：“三男一女，证件不齐。”说完，他在卷宗上也做了纪录。
舰长又问：“你们从哪里来？”
“西维纳。”杜伦谨慎地回答。
“那个地方在哪里？”
“距离这里三万秒差距，川陀西八十度……”
“够了，够了！”杜伦可以看出舰长写下的是：“出发地点——银河外缘”　。
菲利亚的舰长又问：“你们要到哪里去？”
杜伦回答：“去川陀星区。”
“目的是什么？”
“观光旅行。”
“有没有载运任何货物？”
“没有。”
“嗯——我们会好好检查的。”舰长说完便点了点头，立刻就有两个人开始行动，杜伦并没有试图阻止他们。
“你们为什么会进入菲利亚的领域？”菲利亚舰长的眼神变得不太友善。
“我们根本不知道，我没有适用的星图。”
“太空船上没有详尽的星图，依法你们得缴一百点的罚金。此外，当然，你们还得缴付一般的关税，以及其他例行的手续费等等。”
舰长又对微音器说了几句，不过这次听的比说的更多。然后他对杜伦道：“你懂得核工吗？”
“一点点。”杜伦小心谨慎地回答。
“是吗？”菲利亚舰长阖起了卷宗，又补充道：“银河外缘的人，据说都有这方面的丰富知识。你穿上外衣，跟我们来。”
贝妲趋前问道：“你们准备对他怎样？”
杜伦轻轻将她推开，自己以冷静的口气问舰长：“你要我到哪里去？”
“我们的发动机需要做一点调整——那个人也要跟你一块来。”舰长伸出的手指不偏不倚指著马巨擘。马巨擘顿时哭丧著脸，褐色的眼睛睁得老大。
“他跟修理发动机有什么关系？”杜伦厉声问道。
舰长抬起头来，以冷漠的口气说：“上面刚通知我，说这附近的星空有强盗出没。其中一名杀人不眨眼的凶徒，形容跟这个人有点相像。我得确定一下他的真正身份，这纯粹是例行公事。”
杜伦仍然在犹豫，但是六个人加六把手铳却比什么都有说服力，他只好走到壁柜去拿衣服。
一个小时之后，杜伦从菲利亚缉私舰的机件室站起身来，怒吼道：“我看不出发动机有任何问题，汇流条的位置正确，L型管输送正常，核反应分析也都合格。谁是这里的负责人？”
“是我。”首席工程师轻声回答。
“好，那你送我出去——”
然后杜伦就被带到军官甲板，走进一间小小的会客室，里面只有一个小小的少尉军官。
“跟我一起来的那个人，他现在在哪里？”
“请等一下。”少尉说。
十五分钟之后，马巨擘也被带到了会客室。
“他们有没有对你怎样？”杜伦急促地问。
“没有，什么都没有。”马巨擘缓缓摇著头。
结果，依照菲利亚的法律，他们总共付了二百五十点——其中的五十点是“立即释放金”　。破财消灾之后，便重新回到了自由的星空。
贝妲故意强颜欢笑：“我们就不值得他们护送一下吗？难道不应该将我们送到边境，然后再一脚把我们踢走？”
杜伦绷著脸回答她：“那艘呈舰根本不是什么菲利亚缉私舰，而且我们暂时还不准备离开，你们过来这里。”
於是其他人都聚到了杜伦身边。
杜伦余悸犹存地说：“那是一艘基地的星舰，那些人都是骡的手下。”
艾布林手中的雪茄立刻掉到地板上，他赶紧俯身捡起来，然后说：“骡的手下在这里出现？我们离基地有一万五干秒差距远。”
“我们既然能来到这里，他们又为什么不能来？老天，艾布林，你以为我连辨识船舰的能力都没有吗？我看到他们的发动机，这就足以肯定了。我可以告诉你，那是如假包换的基地发动机，那艘星舰是如假包换的基地星舰。”
“他们又是如何来到这里的？”贝妲试图分析：“在太空中，两艘特定的船舰不期而遇的机会是多少？”
“这又有什么关系？”杜伦立刻顶了回去：“这只能说明我们被跟踪了。”
“被跟踪？”贝妲大声抗议：“在超空间里被跟踪？”
艾布林•米斯下耐烦地插嘴道：“这是做得到的——只要有好的船舰和优秀的驾驶员，不过我认为可能性并不大。”
“我并没有将航迹湮没，”杜伦坚持自己的说法：“我也始终维持著正常的速度，瞎子也算得出我们的航道。”
“见你个大头鬼！”贝妲吼道：“你做的每一个跃迁都歪歪扭扭，根据我们的初始方向，绝对分析不出任何结果来。而且不只一次，我们在跃迁之后，方向刚好转了一百八十度。”
“我们这是在浪费时间，”杜伦也被激怒了，咬牙切齿地说：“那是骡所控制的一艘基地星舰。它把我们拦截下来，搜查我们的太空船，又将马巨擘带走，还将他隔离——而我其实是一名人质，就算你们两人起疑，也不敢轻举妄动。我们现在就把它从太空中轰掉。”
“等一等，”艾布林•米斯抓住了杜伦，对他说：“因为你怀疑这艘星舰是敌舰，所以就要将我们通通害死吗？想想看老弟，那些王八蛋怎么可能经过超空间，一路追踪我们大半个臭银河，却在检查了我们的太空船之后，就放我们走了？”
“他们还想知道我们到底要到哪里去。”
“如果这样的话，他们又为什么把我们拦下来，让我们提高警觉？你这种说法自相矛盾，你知道吗？”
“我就是要照自己的意思去做，放开手，艾布林，否则我可要揍人了。”
此时马巨擘正以特技的身手，站立在他最喜欢的那个椅背上。他突然向前一探身，长鼻子的鼻孔因激动而大开。
“我想插一句嘴，请您们多多包涵。我这个不中用的脑袋，突然间冒出了一个古怪的想法。”
贝妲预料到杜伦马上就要发作，赶紧和艾布林一起按住他，然后说：“你尽避说，马巨擘，我们会用心听的。”
于是马巨擘开始说：“我被带到那艘星舰去的时候，简直吓得魂不附体，所以本来就空空如也的脑子，变得更迷糊更痴呆了。说实话，大多数的事我完全都记不得，好像有很多人在瞪著我，说著我根本听不懂的话。但是到了最后——彷佛是一道阳光穿透云缝——我突然看到—张熟悉的脸孔。我只瞥了他一眼，只是隐隐约约的一瞥，可是却在我的记忆中，留下了强烈鲜明的印象。”
杜伦说：“那是谁？”
“很久很久以前，当您第一次解救我的时候，那个跟我们在一起的上尉。”
马巨擘显然是想制造一个惊人的高潮，从他长鼻子底下咧开的笑容，看得出他明白自己的意图已经成功了。
“上尉……汉……普利吉上尉？”米斯严萧地问道：“你确定？真的确定？”
“伟大的先生，我可以发誓。”马巨擘将他瘦骨嶙峋的手掌放任那瘦弱的胸膛前：“即使把我带到骡的面前，即使他以所有的威力否定这件事，我也敢向他发誓，保证我说的是实话。”
贝妲不解地问道：“那么，这究竟是怎么回事？”
小丑面对著她，热切地说：“我亲爱的女士，我自己假设了一个理论。它是突如其来的灵感，仿佛是银河圣灵把它想好了，再轻轻带进我的心中。”马巨擘提高了声音，以便把杜伦插进来的抗议压下去。
“我亲爱的女士，”他完全是对著贝妲一个人在说：“如果这个上尉和我们一样，也驾著一艘船舰逃跑；又如果他和我们一样，也是为了某个目的而在太空中奔波。他突然撞见了我们的太空船，一定会怀疑是我们在跟踪他，而且想要偷袭他，就像我们怀疑他一样。那么他自导自演了这出戏，又有什么难以解释的呢？”
“那他要我们两个到他星舰上去干什么？”杜伦大声追问：“这说不通嘛。”
“喔，说得通，说得非常通。”小丑大叫大嚷，辩才无碍地说：“他派出一名手下登上我们的太空船，那个人并下认识我们，可是他却利用微音器，向上尉描述了我们几个的长相。上尉一听到他对我的描述，一定立刻大吃一惊——因为说句老实话，尽避银河这么大，跟我这个皮包骨长得像的人却没几个。既然把我认出来，那么您们其他人的身分也就能确定了。”
“所以他就放我们走了？”
“关於他正在进行的任务，还有他的秘密，我们又知道多少？他既然已经查出我们并不是敌人，又何必要多此一举，让他自己的身分曝光，让他的计画横生变数呢？”
贝妲缓缓地说：“别再固执了，杜，他说的都有道理。”
“很有可能。”米斯也表示同意。
杜伦面对大家一致的反对，似乎感到无可奈何。在小丑滔滔不绝的解释中，仍然有一点什么在困扰著他——一定有什么不对劲的地方，可是他却也说不出所以然来。不过无论如何，他的怒气已经消退了。
“刚才有几分钟，”他轻声地说：“我还以为我们至少可以打下一艘骡的星舰呢。”
说完，他又想到了赫汶的陷落，目光不禁黯淡下来。
其他三个人都能了解他的心情。

22. DEATH ON NEOTRANTOR
NEOTRANTOR The small planet of Delicass, renamed after the Great Sack, was for nearly a century, the seat of the last dynasty of the First Empire. It was a shadow world and a shadow Empire and its existence is only of legalistic importance. Under the first of the Neotrantorian dynasty....

ENCYCLOPEDIA GALACTICA

Neotrantor was the name! New Trantor! And when you have said the name you have exhausted at a stroke all the resemblances of the new Trantor to the great original. Two parsecs away, the sun of Old Trantor still shone and the Galaxy's Imperial Capital of the previous century still cut through space in the silent and eternal repetition of its orbit.

Men even inhabited Old Trantor. Not many ?a hundred million, perhaps, where fifty years before, forty billions had swarmed. The huge, metal world was in jagged splinters. The towering thrusts of the multi-towers from the single world-girdling base were torn and empty ?still bearing the original blastholes and firegut ?shards of the Great Sack of forty years earlier.

It was strange that a world which had been the center of a Galaxy for two thousand years ?that had ruled limitless space and been home to legislators and rulers whose whims spanned the parsecs ?could die in a month. It was strange that a world which had been untouched through the vast conquering sweeps and retreats of a millennia, and equally untouched by the civil wars and palace revolutions of other millennia ?should lie dead at last. It was strange that the Glory of the Galaxy should be a rotting corpse.

And pathetic!

For centuries would yet pass before the mighty works of fifty generations of humans would decay past use. Only the declining powers of men, themselves, rendered them useless now.

The millions left after the billions had died tore up the gleaming metal base of the planet and exposed soil that had not felt the touch of sun in a thousand years.

Surrounded by the mechanical perfections of human efforts, encircled by the industrial marvels of mankind freed of the tyranny of environment ?they returned to the land. In the huge traffic clearings, wheat and corn grew. In the shadow of the towers, sheep grazed.

But Neotrantor existed ?an obscure village of a planet drowned in the shadow of mighty Trantor, until a heart-throttled royal family, racing before the fire and flame of the Great Sack sped to it as its last refuge ?and held out there, barely, until the roaring wave of rebellion subsided. There it ruled in ghostly splendor over a cadaverous remnant of Imperium.

Twenty agricultural worlds were a Galactic Empire!

Dagobert IX, ruler of twenty worlds of refractory squires and sullen peasants, was Emperor of the Galaxy, Lord of the Universe.

Dagobert IX had been twenty-five on the bloody day he arrived with his father upon Neotrantor. His eyes and mind were still alive with the glory and the power of the Empire that was. But his son, who might one day be Dagobert X, was born on Neotrantor.

Twenty worlds were all he knew.

Jord Commason's open air car was the finest vehicle of its type on all Neotrantor ?and, after all, justly so. It did not end with the fact that Commason was the largest landowner on Neotrantor. It began there. For in earlier days he had been the companion and evil genius of a young crown prince, restive in the dominating grip of a middle-aged emperor. And now he was the companion and still the evil genius of a middle-aged crown prince who hated and dominated an old emperor.

So Jord Commason, in his air car, which in mother-of-pearl finish and gold-and-lumetron ornamentation needed no coat of arms as owner's identification, surveyed the lands that were his, and the miles of rolling wheat that were his, and the huge threshers and harvesters that were his, and the tenant-farmers and machine-tenders that were his ?and considered his problems cautiously.

Beside him, his bent and withered chauffeur guided the ship gently through the upper winds and smiled.

Jord Commason spoke to the wind, the air, and the sky, "You remember what I told you, Inchney?"

Inchney's thin gray hair wisped lightly in the wind. His gap-toothed smile widened in its thin-lipped fashion and the vertical wrinkles of his cheeks deepened as though he were keeping an eternal secret from himself. The whisper of his voice whistled between his teeth.

"I remember, sire, and I have thought."

"And what have you thought, Inchney?" There was an impatience about the question.

Inchney remembered that he had been young and handsome, and a lord on Old Trantor. Inchney remembered that he was a disfigured ancient on Neotrantor, who lived by grace of Squire Jord Commason, and paid for the grace by lending his subtlety on request. He sighed very softly.

He whispered again, "Visitors from the Foundation, sire, are a convenient thing to have. Especially, sire, when they come with but a single ship, and but a single fighting man. How welcome they might be."

"Welcome?" said Commason, gloomily. "Perhaps so. But those men are magicians and may be powerful."

"Pugh," muttered Inchney, "the mistiness of distance hides the truth. The Foundation is but a world. Its citizens are but men. If you blast them, they die."

Inchney held the ship on its course ?A river was a winding sparkle below. He whispered, "And is there not a man they speak of now who stirs the worlds of the Periphery?"

Commason was suddenly suspicious. "What do you know of this?"

There was no smile on his chauffeur's face. "Nothing, sire. It was but an idle question."

The squire's hesitation was short. He said, with brutal directness, "Nothing you ask is idle, and your method of acquiring knowledge will have your scrawny neck in a vise yet. But ?I have it! This man is called the Mule, and a subject of his had been here some months ago on a ... matter of business. I await another ... now ... for its conclusion."

"And these newcomers? They are not the ones you want, perhaps?"

"They lack the identification they should have."

"It has been reported that the Foundation has been captured?

"I did not tell you that."

"It has been so reported," continued Inchney, coolly, "and if that is correct, then these may be refugees from the destruction, and may be held for the Mule's man out of honest friendship."

"Yes?" Commason was uncertain.

"And, sire, since it is well-known that the friend of a conqueror is but the last victim, it would be but a measure of honest self-defense. For there are such things as psychic probes, and here we have four Foundation brains. There is much about the Foundation it would be useful to know, much even about the Mule. And then the Mule's friendship would be a trifle the less overpowering."

Commason, in the quiet of the upper air, returned with a shiver to his first thought. "But if the Foundation has not fallen. If the reports are lies. It is said that it has been foretold it can not fall."

"We are past the age of soothsayers, sire."

"And yet if it did not fall, Inchney. Think! If it did not fall. The Mule made me promises, indeed? He had gone too far, and backtracked. "That is, he made boasts. But boasts are wind and deeds are hard."

Inchney laughed noiselessly. "Deeds are hard indeed, until begun. One could scarcely find a further fear than a Galaxy-end Foundation."

"There is still the prince," murmured Commason, almost to himself.

"He deals with the Mule also, then, sire?"

Commason could not quite choke down the complacent shift of features. "Not entirely. Not as I do. But he grows wilder, more uncontrollable. A demon is upon him. If I seize these people and he takes them away for his own use ?for he does not lack a certain shrewdness ?I am not yet ready to quarrel with him." He frowned and his heavy cheeks bent downwards with dislike.

"I saw those strangers for a few moments yesterday," said the gray chauffeur, irrelevantly, "and it is a strange woman, that dark one. she walks with the freedom of a man and she is of a startling paleness against the dark luster of hair." There was almost a warmth in the husky whisper of the withered voice, so that Commason turned toward him in sudden surprise.

Inchney continued, "The prince, I think, would not find his shrewdness proof against a reasonable compromise. You could have the rest, if you left him the girl?

A light broke upon Commason, "A thought! Indeed a thought! Inchney, turn back! And Inchney, if all turns well, we will discuss further this matter of your freedom."

It was with an almost superstitious sense of symbolism that Commason found a Personal Capsule waiting for him in his private study when he returned. It had arrived by a wavelength known to few. Commason smiled a fat smile. The Mule's man was coming and the Foundation had indeed fallen.

Bayta's misty visions, when she had them, of an Imperial palace, did not jibe with the reality, and inside her, there was a vague sense of disappointment. The room was small, almost plain, almost ordinary. The palace did not even match the mayor's residence back at the Foundation ?and Dagobert IX ?

Bayta had definite ideas of what an emperor ought to look like. He ought not look like somebody's benevolent grandfather. He ought not be thin and white and faded ?or serving cups of tea with his own hand in an expressed anxiety for the comfort of his visitors.

But so it was.

Dagobert IX chuckled as he poured tea into her stiffly outheld cup.

"This is a great pleasure for me, my dear. It is a moment away from ceremony and courtiers. I have not had the opportunity for welcoming visitors from my outer provinces for a time now. My son takes care of these details now that I'm older. You haven't met my son? A fine boy. Headstrong, perhaps. But then he's young. Do you care for a flavor capsule? No?"

Toran attempted an interruption, "Your imperial majesty?

"Yes?"

"Your imperial majesty, it has not been our intention to intrude upon you?

"Nonsense, there is no intrusion. Tonight there will be the official reception, but until then, we are free. Let's see, where did you say you were from? It seems a long time since we had an official reception. You said you were from the Province of Anacreon?"

"From the Foundation, your imperial majesty!"

"Yes, the Foundation. I remember now. I had it located. It is in the Province of Anacreon. I have never been there. My doctor forbids extensive traveling. I don't recall any recent reports from my viceroy at Anacreon. How are conditions there?" he concluded anxiously.

"Sire," mumbled Toran, "I bring no complaints."

"That is gratifying. I will commend my viceroy."

Toran looked helplessly at Ebling Mis, whose brusque voice rose. "Sire, we have been told that it will require your permission for us to visit the Imperial University Library on Trantor."

"Trantor?" questioned the emperor, mildly, "Trantor?"

Then a look of puzzled pain crossed his thin face. "Trantor?" he whispered. "I remember now. I am making plans now to return there with a flood of ships at my back. You shall come with me. Together we will destroy the rebel, Gilmer. Together we shall restore the empire!"

His bent back had straightened. His voice had strengthened. For a moment his eyes were hard. Then, he blinked and said softly, "But Gilmer is dead. I seem to remember ?Yes. Yes! Gilmer is dead! Trantor is dead ?For a moment, it seemed ?Where was it you said you came from?"

Magnifico whispered to Bayta, "Is this really an emperor? For somehow I thought emperors were greater and wiser than ordinary men."

Bayta motioned him quiet. She said, "If your imperial majesty would but sign an order permitting us to go to Trantor, it would avail greatly the common cause."

"To Trantor?" The emperor was blank and uncomprehending.

"Sire, the Viceroy of Anacreon, in whose name we speak, sends word that Gilmer is yet alive?

"Alive! Alive!" thundered Dagobert. "Where? It will be war!"

"Your imperial majesty, it must not yet be known. His whereabouts are uncertain. The viceroy sends us to acquaint you of the fact, and it is only on Trantor that we may find his hiding place. Once discovered?

"Yes, yes ?He must be found? The old emperor doddered to the wall and touched the little photocell with a trembling finger. He muttered, after an ineffectual pause, "My servants do not come. I can not wait for them."

He was scribbling on a blank sheet, and ended with a flourished "D." He said, "Gilmer will yet learn the power of his emperor. Where was it you came from? Anacreon? What are the conditions there? Is the name of the emperor powerful?"

Bayta took the paper from his loose fingers, "Your imperial majesty is beloved by the people. Your love for them is widely known."

"I shall have to visit my good people of Anacreon, but my doctor says ... I don't remember what he says, but? He looked up, his old gray eyes sharp, "Were you saying something of Gilmer?"

"No, your imperial majesty."

"He shall not advance further. Go back and tell your people that. Trantor shall hold! My father leads the fleet now, and the rebel vermin Gilmer shall freeze in space with his regicidal rabble."

He staggered into a seat and his eyes were blank once more. "What was I saying?"

Toran rose and bowed low, "Your imperial majesty has been kind to us, but the time allotted us for an audience is over. "

For a moment, Dagobert IX looked like an emperor indeed as he rose and stood stiff-backed while, one by one, his visitors retreated backward through the door

杢o where twenty armed men intervened and locked a circle about them.

A hand-weapon flashed?

To Bayta, consciousness returned sluggishly, but without the "Where am I?" sensation. She remembered clearly the odd old man who called himself emperor, and the other men who waited outside. The arthritic tingle in her finger joints meant a stun pistol.

She kept her eyes closed, and listened with painful attention to the voices.

There were two of them. One was slow and cautious, with a slyness beneath the surface obsequity. The other was hoarse and thick, almost sodden, and blurted out in viscous spurts. Bayta liked neither.

The thick voice was predominant.

Bayta caught the last words, "He will live forever, that old madman. It wearies me. It annoys me. Commason, I will have it. I grow older, too."

"Your highness, let us first see of what use these people are. It may be we shall have sources of strength other than your father still provides."

The thick voice was lost in a bubbling whisper. Bayta caught only the phrase, " 杢he girl? but the other, fawning voice was a nasty, low, running chuckle followed by a comradely, near-patronizing, "Dagobert, you do not age. They lie who say you are not a youth of twenty."

They laughed together, and Bayta's blood was an icy trickle. Dagobert ?your highness ?The old emperor had spoken of a headstrong son, and the implication of the whispers now beat dully upon her. But such things didn't happen to people in real life?

Toran's voice broke upon her in a slow, hard current of cursing.

She opened her eyes, and Toran's, which were upon her, showed open relief. He said, fiercely, "This banditry will be answered by the emperor. Release us."

It dawned upon Bayta that her wrists and ankles were fastened to wall and floor by a tight attraction field.

Thick Voice approached Toran. He was paunchy, his lower eyelids puffed darkly, and his hair was thinning out. There was a gay feather in his peaked hat, and the edging of his doublet was embroidered with silvery metal-foam.

He sneered with a heavy amusement. "The emperor? The poor, mad emperor?"

"I have his pass. No subject may hinder our freedom."

"But I am no subject, space-garbage. I am the regent and crown prince and am to be addressed as such. As for my poor silly father, it amuses him to see visitors occasionally. And we humor him. It tickles his mock-imperial fancy. But, of course, it has no other meaning."

And then he was before Bayta, and she looked up at him contemptuously. He leaned close and his breath was overpoweringly minted.

He said, "Her eyes suit well, Commason ?she is even prettier with them open. I think she'll do. It will be an exotic dish for a jaded taste, eh?"

There was a futile surge upwards on Toran's part, which the crown prince ignored and Bayta felt the iciness travel outward to the skin. Ebling Mis was still out; head lolling weakly upon his chest, but, with a sensation of surprise, Bayta noted that Magnifico's eyes were open, sharply open, as though awake for many minutes. Those large brown eyes swiveled towards Bayta and stared at her out of a doughy face.

He whimpered, and nodded with his head towards the crown prince, "That one has my Visi-Sonor."

The crown prince turned sharply toward the new voice, "This is yours, monster?" He swung the instrument from his shoulder where it had hung, suspended by its green strap, unnoticed by Bayta.

He fingered it clumsily, tried to sound a chord and got nothing for his pains, "Can you play it, monster?"

Magnifico nodded once.

Toran said suddenly, "You've rifled a ship of the Foundation. If the emperor will not avenge, the Foundation will."

It was the other, Commason, who answered slowly, "What Foundation? Or is the Mule no longer the Mule?"

There was no answer to that. The prince's grin showed large uneven teeth. The clown's binding field was broken and he was nudged ungently to his feet. The Visi-Sonor was thrust into his hand.

"Play for us, monster," said the prince. "Play us a serenade of love and beauty for our foreign lady here. Tell her that my father's country prison is no palace, but that I can take her to one where she can swim in rose water ?and know what a prince's love is. Sing of a prince's love, monster."

He placed one thick thigh upon a marble table and swung a leg idly, while his fatuous smiling stare swept Bayta into a silent rage. Toran's sinews strained against the field, in painful, perspiring effort. Ebling Mis stirred and moaned.

Magnifico gasped, "My fingers are of useless stiffness?

"Play, monster!" roared the prince. The lights dimmed at a gesture to Commason and in the dimness he crossed his arms and waited.

Magnifico drew his fingers in rapid, rhythmic jumps from end to end of the multikeyed instrument ?and a sharp, gliding rainbow of light jumped across the room. A low, soft tone sounded ?throbbing, tearful. It lifted in sad laughter, and underneath it there sounded a dull tolling.

The darkness seemed to intensify and grow thick. Music reached Bayta through the muffled folds of invisible blankets. Gleaming light reached her from the depths as though a single candle glowed at the bottom of a pit.

Automatically, her eyes strained. The light brightened, but remained blurred. It moved fuzzily, in confused color, and the music was suddenly brassy, evil ?flourishing in high crescendo. The light flickered quickly, in swift motion to the wicked rhythm. Something writhed within the light. Something with poisonous metallic scales writhed and yawned. And the music writhed and yawned with it.

Bayta struggled with a strange emotion and then caught herself in a mental gasp. Almost, it reminded her of the time in the Time Vault, of those last days on Haven. It was that horrible, cloying, clinging spiderweb of horror and despair. She shrunk beneath it oppressed.

The music dinned upon her, laughing horribly, and the writhing terror at the wrong end of the telescope in the small circle of light was lost as she turned feverishly away. Her forehead was wet and cold.

The music died. It must have lasted fifteen minutes, and a vast pleasure at its absence flooded Bayta. Light glared, and Magnifico's face was close to hers, sweaty, wild-eyed, lugubrious.

"My lady," he gasped, "how fare you?"

"Well enough," she whispered, "but why did you play like that?"

She became aware of the others in the room. Toran and Mis were limp and helpless against the wall, but her eyes skimmed over them. There was the prince, lying strangely still at the foot of the table. There was Commason, moaning wildly through an open, drooling mouth.

Commason flinched, and yelled mindlessly, as Magnifico took a step towards him.

Magnifico turned, and with a leap, turned the others loose.

Toran lunged upwards and with eager, taut fists seized the landowner by the neck, "You come with us. We'll want you ?to make sure we get to our ship."

Two hours later, in the ship's kitchen, Bayta served a walloping homemade pie, and Magnifico celebrated the return to space by attacking it with a magnificent disregard of table manners.

"Good, Magnifico?"

"Um-mmmmm!"

"Magnifico?"

"Yes, my lady?"

"What was it you played back there?"

The clown writhed, "I ... I'd rather not say. I learned it once, and the Visi-Sonor is of an effect upon the nervous system most profound. Surely, it was an evil thing, and not for your sweet innocence, my lady."

"Oh, now, come, Magnifico. I'm not as innocent as that. Don't flatter so. Did I see anything like what they saw?"

"I hope not. I played it for them only. If you saw, it was but the rim of it ?from afar."

"And that was enough. Do you know you knocked the prince out?"

Magnifico spoke grimly through a large, muffling piece of pie. "I killed him, my lady."

"What?" She swallowed, painfully.

"He was dead when I stopped, or I would have continued. I cared not for Commason. His greatest threat was death or torture. But, my lady, this prince looked upon you wickedly, and? he choked in a mixture of indignation and embarrassment.

Bayta felt strange thoughts come and repressed them sternly. "Magnifico, you've got a gallant soul."

"Oh, my lady." He bent a red nose into his pie, but, somehow did not eat.

Ebling Mis stared out the port. Trantor was near ?its metallic shine fearfully bright. Toran was standing there, too.

He said with dull bitterness, "We've come for nothing, Ebling. The Mule's man precedes us."

Ebling Mis rubbed his forehead with a hand that seemed shriveled out of its former plumpness. His voice was an abstracted mutter.

Toran was annoyed. "I say those people know the Foundation has fallen. I say?

"Eh?" Mis looked up, puzzled. Then, he placed a gentle hand upon Toran's wrist, in complete oblivion of any previous conversation, "Toran, I ... I've been looking at Trantor. Do you know ... I have the queerest feeling ... ever since we arrived on Neotrantor. It's an urge, a driving urge that's pushing and pushing inside. Toran, I can do it; I know I can do it. Things are becoming clear in my mind ?they have never been so clear."

Toran stared ?and shrugged. The words brought him no confidence.

He said, tentatively, "Mis?"

"Yes?"

"You didn't see a ship come down on Neotrantor as we left?"

Consideration was brief. "No."

"I did. Imagination, I suppose, but it could have been that Filian ship."

"The one with Captain Han Pritcher on it?"

"The one with space knows who upon it. Magnifico's information ?It followed us here, Mis."

Ebling Mis said nothing,

Toran said strenuously, "is there anything wrong with you? Aren't you well?"

Mis's eyes were thoughtful, luminous, and strange. He did not answer.
第二十二章 魂断新川陀
　　新川陀……是原名迪里卡丝的一个小型行星，於“大浩劫”之后改名。在接近一个世纪的岁月中，它是“第一帝国”最后一个皇朝的所在地。
新川陀是一个徒具虚名的世界，其上的皇朝也早已经名存实亡，两者的存在仅具有政治性的象徵意义。新川陀皇朝的第一位皇帝……
——《银河百科全书》
这个世界叫作新川陀！也就是新的川陀！当人们叫出这个名称之后，就已经把它与原先那个伟大的川陀，两者之间的类似之处全都说完了。在两个秒差距之外，旧川陀的太阳仍在发热发光，而上个世纪的银河帝国首都，还在太空中永恒的轨道上默默地运行。
旧川陀上甚至还有居民，只不过人数并不多——大约是一亿人左右。而在五十年之前，那个世界还挤满了四百亿人口。这个巨大的金属世界，如今到处都是满目疮痍的残破碎片——从围绕整个世界的金属基础向上耸立的高塔建筑，每一座都成了断垣残壁，上面的弹孔与焦痕仍旧清楚可见——这就是四十年前“大浩劫”所留下的遗迹。
说来也真奇怪，一个作为银河中心达两万年之久的世界——它曾统治著无尽的太空，上面住著至高无上的皇帝，以及权倾一时的立法者——竟然会在一个月之内就被毁灭。在前十个千年之间，这个世界曾多次被征服，帝国也曾因此多次迁部，它却从未遭到破坏：而在后十个千年间，又不断地爆发内战与宫廷革命，它也依旧安然无恙。说来也真奇怪，如今它却终於成为一团废墟；这个“银河的光荣”，竟然就这样变成了一具腐尸。
真是情何以堪！
人类经过五十个世代所造就的心血结晶，应该在许多世纪之后才会化为腐朽。只有人类自己的堕落，才有办法提早几百、几千年为它送终。
数百亿的居民罹难之后，幸存的数百万人口开始自求多福。他们拆掉行星表面闪闪发光的金属基础，让禁锢了数千年的土壤，再度暴露在阳光之下。
他们周遭仍然保存著许多完善的机械设备，以及人类为对抗大自然而制造的各种楕良工业产品。於是，这些劫后余生者重新回到土地的怀抱——在大型的交通要冲，种植起小麦与玉米；在高塔的阴影之下，放牧著成群的绵羊。
反观新川陀——当初在川陀巨大的阴影之下，这个行星只是一个偏远的乡下。后来那个被逼得走投无路的皇室，从“大浩劫”的烽火中仓皂逃离，来到了这个最后的避难所，从此就在这里勉强支撑下去。如今叛乱的风潮早已平息，这个皇室仍在新川陀作著虚幻的帝王梦，统治著帝国最后一点可怜兮兮的残躯。
二十个农业世界，组成了如今的银河帝国！
达勾柏特九世——银河的皂帝、宇宙的共主—i统治著这二十个农业世界。这些世界上满足桀骛难驯的地主，以及民风强悍的农民。
想当年，在—个腥风血雨的日子，达勾柏特九世跟随父皇来到新川陀时，他才只下过二十五岁。直到如今，他的眼睛与心灵仍然充满著昔日帝国的光荣与强盛。但是他的皇太子——未来的达勾柏特十世，却是在新川陀出生的。
对於这位皇太子而言，二十个世界就是他所认识的一切。　　、裘德•柯玛生所拥有的敞篷飞车，是新川陀同类交通工具中最高级的一部。这辆飞车的外表髹著珍珠母涂料，还镶著稀有的合金装饰，根本不需要再挂上任何代表主人身分的徽章——而这当然是有原因的。这并不是因为柯玛生是新川陀最大的地主，如果这样想的话，那就是倒因为果了。早年，他是年轻皇储的玩伴与“守护神”，当时皇储对中年的皇帝就已充满叛逆的情绪：如今，他还是中年皇储的玩伴与“守护神”，而皇储早已骑在老皇帝的头上，而且恨透了那个老皇帝。
现在，裘德•柯玛生正坐在自己的飞车中，巡视着他所拥有的大片土地，与其上绵延数哩、随风摇曳的麦田，以及他所拥有的巨型打谷机与收割机，还有正在辛勤工作的佃农与农机操作工。他一面巡视，一面认真地思考着自己的问题。
在柯玛生的身边，坐着他的专用司机。那名司机弯腰驼背，身形憔悴，脸上一直带着笑容，驾着飞车缓缓地乘风而上。
裘德•柯玛生迎着风，对着空气与天空说：“殷奇尼，你还记得上回我讲的事情吗？”
殷奇尼所剩无几的灰发被风吹了起来，他咧开薄薄的嘴唇，露出稀疏的牙齿，两颊上的垂直皱纹加深许多。好像他从来就不知道，自己的笑容比哭更难看。
“我记得，老爷，我也仔细想过了。”当他轻声说话的时候，齿缝间传出了阵阵的咻咻声。
“你想到些什么，殷奇尼？”这句问话明显带着不耐烦的意思。
殴奇尼没有忘记自己也曾经年轻英俊饼，当时他还是旧川陀的一名贵族。殷奇尼也记得，他到达新川陀的时候就已经是破了相的老人了。由于裘德•柯玛生大地主的恩典，他才得以苟活下来，为了报答大地主的大恩大德，他随时随地为柯玛生提供各种各样的鬼点子。
殷奇尼轻轻叹了一口气，又小声地说：“从基地来的那些访客，老爷，我们轻而易举就能拿下。尤其是，老爷，他们只驾着一艘太空船单独前来，其中又只有一个能动武的人，我们可得好奸‘欢迎’他们。”
“欢迎？”柯玛生以沮丧的口吻说：“也许吧。但是那些人都是魔术师，他们可能暗藏着强大的威力。”
“呸——”殷奇尼喃喃说道：“这就是所谓的距离产生幻象。基地只是一个普通的世界，它的公民也只不过是普通人。如果你拿武器轰他们，他们照样会一命呜呼。”
殷奇尼一面说，一面维持着飞车的正确航线，飞过了一条婉蜒而闪烁的河流。然后他又轻声地说：“不是听说有一个人，他把银河外缘的世界全都搅得天翻地覆吗？”
柯玛生突然起疑，问道：“这件事情你知道多少？”
专用司机这回没有露出笑容，他一本正经地说：“什么部不知道，老爷，我只不过随口问问。”
大地主只犹豫了一下子，然后就毫下客气地单刀直入：“你问的任何问题都有目的，你这种探听情报的方法，早晚会让你那根细脖子被老虎钳夹扁。不过——我可以告诉你！那个人叫作骡，几个月以前，他的一名属下曾经来过这里，为了……一件公事。我正在等待另一个人……嗯……来将这件事情做个了结。”
“这些新来的访客呢？他们难道下是你要等的人吗？”
“他们没有任何证明文件。”
“据说基地被攻陷了……”
“我可没有告诉你这种事。”
“大家都这么说。”殷奇尼继续泰然自若地说道：“如果这是正确的消息，那么这些人可能是逃出来的难民，也许我们可以把他们抓起来，将来交给骡的手下，以表现我们真诚的友谊。”
“是吗？”柯玛生不太确定。
“此外，老爷，既然大家都知道，统治者的朋友也不过是最后的牺牲者，我们这么做，也只是正当的自卫手段。我们原本就有心灵探测器，现在又有了四个基地的脑袋，而基地有许多秘密值得我们挖掘，连骡都会需要这些秘密。这样一来，我们跟骡的友谊就可以稍微平等一点。”
在平稳的高空中，柯玛生因为自己突如其来的想法而打了个冷颤。他说：“可是，假如基地没有失陷，如果那些消息都是假的呢？据说有预言保证基地绝不可能战败。”
“这年头，已经不流行星相卜卦那一套了，老爷。”
“然而如果它根本没有失陷呢？你想想看，如果基地没有失陷！骡对我做了许多保证，可是……”他突然发觉自己说得太多了，赶紧拉回原来的话题：“那就是说，他在吹牛，然而牛皮人人会吹，可是凡事说来容易，做来可没那么简单。”
殷奇尼轻声笑了笑，接口道：“做来可没那么简单，的确没错，但是只要动手了，就没有想像中那么困难。在整个银河中，恐怕要属银河尽头的那个基地最可怕了。”
“别忘了还有皇太子呢。”柯玛生喃喃地说，几乎是自言自语。
“这么说，他也在跟骡打交道，是吗，老爷？”
柯玛生几乎无法压仰突然浮现的得意自满：“并不尽然，他可不像我做的这么多。但是他现在变得越来越狂妄，越来越难以控制，简直是已经着魔了。如果我将这些人抓起来，他会为了自己的目的，将他们据为己有——因为他这个人可狡猾得很——现在我还没有准备要跟他翻脸。”说完他厌恶地皱着眉头，肥厚的双颊也垂了下来。
“昨天我瞥见了那些异邦人。”灰发的司机扯到另一个话题：“那个黑头发的女人很不寻常，她走起路来像男人一样毫无顾忌，还有她的皮肤苍白得惊人，跟她乌溜溜的黑发形成强烈对比。”在他嘶哑而有气无力的声音中，似乎透出了几丝兴奋。柯玛生突然感到很讶异，不禁转过头来瞪着他。
殷奇尼继续说：“那个皇太子，我想，下论他有多么狡猾，也不会拒绝接受合理的妥协方案。如果你让他带走那个女孩，想必我们就可以把其他人留下来……”
柯玛生立即开窍：“好主意！真是个好主意！殷奇尼，掉头回去！还有，殷奇尼，如果一切都很顺利的话，我们就可以继续讨论还你自由的细节问题。”
似乎是冥冥之中自有定数，柯玛生才刚刚回到家，就在私人书房发现了一个私人信囊，它是以仅有少数人知道的波长传送来的。柯玛生的肥脸露出微笑，他知道骡的人快要到了，而这就代表基地真的陷落了。
贝妲蒙胧的视觉，还依然残留着那座“宫殿”的影象，但那并不是她现在真正看到的景象。在她的内心深处，仿佛感到有点失望。那个房间很小，几乎可说是既朴素又平凡；那个“宫殿”根本连基地的市长宫邸都不如，而达勾柏特九世……
皇帝的模样究竟应该是什么样子，贝妲心中有一个很明确的概念——他不应该看起来像一个慈祥的祖父，不应该显得瘦削、苍白而衰老，也不应该亲自为客人倒茶，或是对客人表现得过分殷切。
可是，事实上却刚好相反。
贝妲抓稳了茶杯，达勾柏特九世一面为她倒茶，一面吃吃地笑着。
“我感到万分高兴，亲爱的女士。我有好久没有参加过任何庆典，也有好久没接见廷臣。如今，来自外围世界的访客们，我已经没有机会亲自欢迎了。因为我年事已高，这些琐事都已交给太子处理。你们还没有见过太子吗？他是个好孩子，有点任性倒是真的，下过他还年轻。要不要加一个香料袋？不要吗？”
杜伦试图插嘴：“启禀陛下……”
“什么事？”
“启禀陛下，我们来觐见陛下，并不是要来打扰……”
“没有这回事，绝不会打扰我的。今天晚上将为你们举行迎宾国宴，不过在此之前，我们可以放轻松一点。嗯，你们刚才说是从哪里来的？我们好像已经很久没有举行迎宾国宴。你们说来自安纳克瑞昂星省，是吗？”
“启禀陛下，我们是从基地来的。”
“是的，基地，我现在想起来了。我知道它在哪里，它位于安纳克瑞昂星省。我从来没有去过那里，御医不允许我做长途旅行。我不记得我派驻在安纳克瑞昂的总督，最近曾有任何奏章呈上来。那里的情况怎么样？”他以关切的口吻问道。
“启禀陛下，”杜伦轻声地说：“我没有带来任何人的申诉状。”
“那实在太好了，我会好好嘉奖我的总督。”
杜伦以无奈的眼光看着艾布林•米斯，米斯那粗率的声音立刻响起：“启禀陛下，我们听说必须要得到陛下的御准，才能去参观位于川陀大学的帝国图书馆。”
“川陀？”老皇帝柔声地问：“川陀？”
他瘦削的脸庞现出一阵茫然与痛苦，又悄声说：“川陀？我现在想起来了。我正在筹备一个军事反攻计划，准备率领庞大的舰队打回川陀去。你们就跟我一块行动，我们将并肩作战，打垮吉尔模那个叛徒。然后我们将携手合作，共同重建伟大的银河帝国！”
此时老皇帝伛偻的脊背也挺直了，他的声音变得洪后，目光也转趋凌厉。然后，他眨了眨眼睛，又轻声地说：“但吉尔模已经死了，我好像想起来啦——没错，没错！吉尔模已经恶贯满盈！川陀也变成了一片废墟——目前似乎就是如此——你们刚才说是从哪里来的？”
马巨擘忽然对贝妲耳语道：“这个人真的就是皇帝吗？我始终以为皇帝应该比普通人更伟大、更英明。”
贝妲挥手示意马巨擘别说话，然后对皇帝说：“如果陛下能为我们签一张许可状，让我们能够到川陀去，对双方的合作会很有帮助。”
“去川陀？”老皇帝的表情呆滞，心中一片茫然。
“启禀陛下，我们是代表安纳克瑞昂的总督前来觐见陛下的。他要我们代他向陛下禀报，其实吉尔模还没有死……”
“还没有死！还没有死！”达勾柏特惊吼道：“他在哪里？又要打仗了！”
“启禀陛下，现在还不能公开这个消息，吉尔模的行踪至今不明。总督派我们来向陛下禀报这个事实，然后我们必须到川陀去，才有办法找到他藏匿的巢穴。一旦发现了之后……”
“没错，没错……非得把他找到不可……”老皇帝蹒册地走到墙边，用发颤的手指碰了碰一个小型光电管。
他空等了一会儿，又喃喃地说：“我的侍臣还没有来，我不能再等他们了。”
他在一张白纸上写了一些潦草的字迹，最后还画了一个龙飞凤舞的签名式，然后说：“吉尔模早晚缓箪教我的厉害，你们刚才说是从哪里来的？安纳克瑞昂？那里的情况怎么样？皇帝的威名仍旧至高无上吗？”
贝妲从他松软的手指间取饼那张纸，再回答他说：“陛下深受百姓爱戴，陛下对百姓的慈爱，妇孺皆知。”
“我应该起驾到安纳克瑞昂，去巡视一下我的好百姓。可是我的御医说……我不记得他说过什么，下过……”皇帝抬起头来，苍老灰暗的眼珠又变得锐利：“你们刚才提到了吉尔模吗？”
“启禀陛下，完全没有。”
“他不会再猖狂了，回去就这样告诉你们的同胞。川陀会屹立不摇！如今父皇正率领舰队御驾亲征，吉尔模那个叛徒，还有他手下那些大逆不道的喽罗，都会被困死在太空中。”
老皇帝说完，又摇摇蔽晃地走回座椅，目光再度失去神采。他问道：“我刚才说了些什么？”
杜伦站起来，向老皇帝深深一鞠躬，回答说：“陛下对我们亲切无比，令我们如沐春风，可惜我们觐见的时间已经结束了。”
达勾柏特九世遂站起身来，挺直了脊背，看着他的访客一个接着一个倒退着退下。这时，达勾柏特九世看来真像是一位皇帝。
四位访客退下之后，立刻有二十名武装人员一拥而上，将他们四人团团围住。
一柄轻武器发出了一道闪光……
贝坦感到自己的意识逐渐恢复，但是却没有“我在哪里？”那种感觉。她清楚地记得那个自称是皇帝的古怪老者，还有埋伏在外面的那些人。她的手指关节还在隐隐作痛，代表她曾经受到麻痹枪的攻击。
她又闭上了眼睛，留心听着身边响起的每一个声音。
她听得出有两个男人在说话，其中一个说得很慢，口气也很小心，而在明显的奉承之下，浮现着藏下住的狡猾。另一个人的声音嘶哑含混，几乎带着醉意，而且说话时口沬四溅——贝妲对这两个声音都感到嫌恶无比。
嘶哑的声音显然是主子。
贝妲最先听到的几句话是：“……他为何永远死不了，那个老疯子，实在令我厌烦、令我困恼。柯玛生，我要赶快行动，我的年纪也不小了。”
“启禀殿下，让我们先来研究一下这些人有什么用处。从他们身上，我们可能会发现奇异的力量，那将是你的父亲无法提供的。”
在一阵带着笑声的耳语中，嘶哑的声音渐渐消失。贝妲只听到几个字：“……这个女孩……”
另外那个谄媚的声音，变作了淫秽的低笑声，然后再用哥俩好的口气说：“达勾柏特，你一点也没有变老，没有人不知道，你还像个二十岁的少年郎。”
然后两人就一起哈哈大笑，贝妲的血液都快凝胶笏。达勾柏特——殿下——老皇帝曾经提到他有一个任性的太子。贝妲似乎能体会出刚才那段对话的含意，可是在现实生活中，怎么也会发生这种事情……
此时她听到了一阵缓慢而激动的咒骂，那是杜伦的声音。
贝妲再度张开眼睛，发现杜伦正瞪着她。杜伦看到她睁开眼睛，似乎显得放心一点，他又用凶狠的口气说：“你们这种强盗行径，我们会要求陛下还一个公道，放开我们。”
贝坦直到现在才发觉，自己的手腕被强力吸附场碧定在墙壁上，脚踝也被地板紧紧吸住，全身上下部动弹下得。
声音嘶哑的那个男子向杜伦走近，他挺着一个大肚子，头发剩下没几根，眼袋浮肿，还有两个黑眼圈。他穿着银色金属泡镶边的紧身上衣，戴着一顶有遮檐的帽子，上面还插着一根俗丽的羽毛。
他仿佛听到了最有趣的笑话，冷笑着说：“陛下？那个可怜的疯老头？”
“我有他签署的通行许可状，你们这些臣民都不可以妨碍我们的自由。”
“我可不是什么臣民，你这个太空飞来的垃圾。我是摄政兼皇储，你得这样称呼我。至于我那个可怜又痴呆的老子，既然他喜欢偶尔见见访客，我们也就随他去玩。他这样可以重温一下虚幻的帝王梦，但是，绝没有其他意义。”
然后皇太子踱到贝妲身前，贝妲抬起头来，以不屑的眼光瞪着他。皇太子俯下身，贝妲感觉他的呼吸中有浓重的薄荷味。
笔太子说：“她的眼睛真好看，柯玛生，她睁开眼睛就更漂后了。我想她会使我满意的，这是一道充满异国风味的菜肴，一定会使我重新胃口大开，对吧？”
杜伦挣扎了一阵子，可是完全徒劳无功，皇太子根本不理会他。贝妲感到体内涌出一股寒意，传遍了皮肤各处。艾布林•米斯现在仍然昏迷，他的头无力地垂到胸前，可是马巨擘的眼睛却已经张开了，这令贝妲感到有些讶异。马巨擘的眼睛张得很大，好像醒来已有一阵子。他那对褐色的大眼睛转向贝妲，表情呆滞地凝望着她。
然后他将头撇向皇太子，一面点头，一面呜咽着说：“那个家伙把我的声光琴拿走了。”贝妲此时才注意到，皇太子肩膀上的绿色带子就是声光琴的吊带。
笔太子听到又有人开口，猛然一转身，问道：“丑八怪，这是你的吗？”他将背在肩上的乐器甩到手中，笨手笨脚地拨弄着，想要按出一个和弦，可是费了九牛二虎之力，也没有弄出半点声响。
“丑八怪，你会演奏这种乐器吗？”
马巨擘点了一下头。
杜伦突然又说：“你劫持了一艘基地的太空船，即使陛下不替我们主持公道，基地也会的。”
笔太子身边那个人——柯玛生，此时却慢条斯理地答道：“哪一个基地？还是骡已经不是骡了？”
没有人回答他这个问题，皇太子咧嘴笑了起来，露出又大又参差下齐的牙齿。他将小丑身上的吸附场必掉，使劲推他站起来，又将声光琴塞到他手中。
“丑八怪，为我们演奏一曲。”皇太子对马巨擘说：“就为我们这位异邦的美人，演奏一首爱与美的小夜曲。让她知道我父亲的乡下茅舍并不是宫殿，不过我可以带她到真正的宫殿去，在那里，她可以在玫瑰露中游泳：还要让她知道皇太子的爱是如何炽烈。丑八怪，为皇太子的爱高歌一曲。”
说完，他将一条粗壮的大腿放在大理石桌上，小腿来回地摇蔽着，用带着笑意的轻浮目光瞄着贝妲。贝妲被他看得心中升起一股怒火，杜伦使尽力气想要挣脱吸附场，累得汗流浃背，露出一脸痛苦的表情。
艾布林•米斯忽然动了一动，还呻吟了一下。
马巨擘喘着气说：“我的手指麻木了，没法子演奏……”
“丑八怪，叫你弹你就弹！”皇太子吼道。说完他对柯玛生做了一个手势，室内的灯光便暗了下来。在一片昏暗中，他双手交握胸前，等着欣赏马巨擘的表演。
马巨擘的手指在众多的按键上来回跳跃，动作迅疾而充满节奏感。一道色彩鲜明的彩虹，不知从何处一下子滑跃出来。然后便响起了一个低柔的调子，曲调悠扬婉转，如泣如诉。接着，在一阵悲壮的笑声中，乐曲陡然拔高，背后还透出了阴沉的钟声。
现在黑暗似乎变得越来越浓，越来越稠，贝妲的面前好像覆盖着一层层无形的毛毯，而音乐就从其中钻出来。在黑暗的深处射出了微弱的光线，看起来像是坑洞中透出一线孤独的烛光。
她下由自主地张大眼睛，一眨也不眨。光线逐渐增强，但是一直十分蒙胧，带着暧昧不明的色彩摇曳不定。此时，音乐突然变得刺耳而邪恶，而且越来越嚣张。光线的变化也开始加剧，随着邪恶的节奏快速摆动。而且，好像还有什么怪物在光影中翻腾——它身上有剧毒的金属鳞片，还张着血盆大口。而音乐也随着那个怪物翻腾，跟着它一起咧开大口。
贝妲在诡异莫名的情绪中挣扎，内心仿佛在拼命喘息，最后才总算定下神来。这使她忍不住联想到穹窿中的经历，以及在赫汶的最后那段日子。当时她所感受到的，就是同样的恐惧、烦厌，以及如蛛网般黏缠的消沉与绝望，这种无形的压迫感令她全身蜷缩起来。
音乐仍在她的耳边喧闹不休，如同一阵可怖的狂笑。她放眼望去的景象，就好像是拿倒了望远镜看出去一样，尽头处仍是那个翻腾扭动的怪物。贝妲勉力转过头去，那个恐怖的怪物终于消失。这时，她才察觉到额头上早已淌着冷汗。
音乐也在此时停止——至少持续了一刻钟，贝妲终于觉得大大松了一口气。室内重新大放光明，贝姐看到马巨擘的脸庞距离自己很近，他满头大汗，目光涣散，脸上透着悲哀的神情。
“我亲爱的女士，”他气喘吁吁地说：“您不要紧吧？”
“我还好，”她悄声回答：“但是你为什么要演奏这种音乐？”
说完，她看了看室内的其他人。杜伦与米斯仍然被黏在墙上，显得有气无力。她的眼睛很快越过他们两人，向皇太子望过去，看到他正以怪异的姿势仰卧在桌脚、旁，而柯玛生则张大了口，狂乱地呻吟着，还不停地淌着口水。
当马巨擘刚要走近柯玛生时，柯玛生吓得缩成一团，发疯般地哀叫起来。
于是马巨擘转过身来，迅速将其他三人的吸附场松开。
杜伦马上一跃而起，双手握紧拳头，冲到那个大地主面前，使劲抓住他的脖子，猛力将他拉起来，大声吼道：“你跟我们走，我们需要你当人质——确保我们能安然回到太空船。”
两个小时之后，在太空船的厨舱中，为了庆祝大家安返太空，贝妲亲手做了一个特大号的派。马巨擘庆祝虎口余生的方法，是抛开一切的餐桌礼仪，狼吞虎咽地拼命将派塞进嘴里。
“好吃吗，马巨擘？”
“嗯——嗯！”
“马巨擘？”
“干嘛？我亲爱的女士。”
“你刚才演奏的究竟是什么？”　　、
小丑显得不知如何是好，他说：“我……我想还是别说为妙。那是我以前跟人家学的，而声光琴对神经系统的影响最巨大。当然啦，那是一种邪门的音乐，不适合您这种天真无邪的心灵，我亲爱的女士。”
“喔，得了吧，马巨擘，我可没有那么天真无邪。你别拍我的马屁了，我所看到的东西，是不是跟那两个人看到的一样？”
“但愿不一样。我原本只想要他们两人看见，如果您看到了什么，那只不过是瞥见了一点点——而且还是远远瞥见的。”
“可是那就足够了。你可知道，你把皇太子弄得昏迷不醒。”
马巨擘嘴里含着一大块派，以模糊却冷酷的口吻说：“我亲爱的女士，我把他给杀了。”
“什么？”贝妲痛苦地吞下一口口水。
“当我停止演奏的时候，他就已经死了，否则我还会继续的。我并没有理会那个柯玛生，他对我们最大的威胁，顶多是施以酷刑或是处死我们。可是，我亲爱的女士，那个皇太子却用淫邪的眼光望着您，而且……”他突然感到又气又窘，实在说下下去了。
贝阻的心中兴起好些奇怪的念头，她赶紧把这些念头都压下去，并且说：“马巨擘，你真有一副侠义心肠。”
“喔，我亲爱的女士。”马巨擘将红鼻头埋到了派里面，可是不知道为什么，却没有再继续吃。
艾布林•米斯从舷窗向外看去，川陀已经在望——它的金属外壳闪耀着明后的光芒。
杜伦也来到了舷窗旁边，以苦涩的语调说：“艾布林，我们这是白跑一趟，骡的手下已经比我们捷足先登了。”
艾布林•米斯抬起手来擦擦额头，那只手似乎不再像以前那般圆胖，而他的声音听来像是漫不经心的喃喃自语。
杜伦忧心仲仲地说：“我是说，那些人知道基地已经陷落。我是说……”
“啊？”米斯茫然地抬起头来，然后轻轻将手放在杜伦的手腕上。他完全忘记了刚才的谈话，自顾自地说：“杜伦，我……我一直凝望着川陀。你可知道……我有一种怪异之极的感觉……在我们到达新川陀的时候就出现了。这是一种冲动，是我内心中不停激荡的冲动。杜伦，我可以做得到，我知道我能够做到。我的心头一片清明，所有的事情都一清二楚，从来也没有这么清楚过。”
杜伦瞪着米斯一会儿，然后又耸耸肩。他听到的这段话，显然没有为他带来什么信心。
他只是试探着问：“米斯？”
“什么事？”
“当我们离开新川陀的时候，你没有看见另一艘船舰降落吧？”
米斯只想了一下，就回答说：“没有。”
“可是我看见了。这也许只是我自己的想像，但是它看来有点像那艘菲利亚缉私舰。”
“就是汉•普利吉上尉率领的那一艘？”
“天晓得是由谁率领的，马巨擘的说法……它跟踪我们来了，米斯。”
艾布林•米斯没有搭陛。
杜伦又以焦急的口吻问：“你是不是哪里不对劲？感觉不舒服吗？”
米斯露出深谋远虑、澄澈而奇特的眼神，不过并没有回答一句话。

23. THE RUINS OF TRANTOR


The location of an objective upon the great world of Trantor presents a problem unique in the Galaxy. There are no continents or oceans to locate from a thousand miles distance. There are no rivers, lakes, and islands to catch sight of through the cloud rifts.

The metal-covered world was ?had been ?one colossal city, and only the old Imperial palace could be identified readily from outer space by a stranger. The Bayta circled the world at almost air-car height in repeated painful search.

From polar regions, where the icy coating of the metal spires were somber evidence of the breakdown or neglect of the weather-conditioning machinery, they worked southwards. Occasionally they could experiment with the correlations ?or presumable correlations)?between what they saw and what the inadequate map obtained at Neotrantor showed.

But it was unmistakable when it came. The gap in the metal coat of the planet was fifty miles. The unusual greenery spread over hundreds of square miles, inclosing the mighty grace of the ancient Imperial residences.

The Bayta hovered and slowly oriented itself. There were only the huge supercauseways to guide them. Long straight arrows on the map, smooth, gleaming ribbons there below them.

What the map indicated to be the University area was reached by dead reckoning, and upon the flat area of what once must have been a busy landing-field, the ship lowered itself.

It was only as they submerged into the welter of metal that the smooth beauty apparent from the air dissolved into the broken, twisted near-wreckage that had been left in the wake of the Sack. Spires were truncated, smooth walls gouted and twisted, and just for an instant there was the glimpse of a shaven area of earth ?perhaps several hundred acres in extent ?dark and plowed.

Lee Senter waited as the ship settled downward cautiously. It was a strange ship, not from Neotrantor, and inwardly he sighed. Strange ships and confused dealings with the men of outer space could mean the end of the short days of peace, a return to the old grandiose times of death and battle. Senter was leader of the group; the old books were in his charge and he had read of those old days. He did not want them.

Perhaps ten minutes spent themselves as the strange ship came down to nestle upon the flatness, but long memories telescoped themselves in that time. There was first the great farm of his childhood ?that remained in his mind merely as busy crowds of people. Then there was the trek of the young families to new lands. He was ten, then; an only child, puzzled, and frightened.

Then the new buildings; the great metal slabs to be uprooted and tom aside; the exposed soil to be turned, and freshened, and invigorated; neighboring buildings to be tom down and leveled; others to be transformed to living quarters.

There were crops to be grown and harvested; peaceful relations with neighboring farms to be established?

There was growth and expansion, and the quiet efficiency of self-rule. There was the coming of a new generation of hard, little youngsters born to the soil. There was the great day when he was chosen leader of the Group and for the first time since his eighteenth birthday he did not shave and saw the first stubble of his Leader's Beard appear.

And now the Galaxy might intrude and put an end to the brief idyll of isolation?

The ship landed. He watched wordlessly as the port opened. Four emerged, cautious and watchful. There were three men, varied, old, young, thin and beaked. And a woman striding among them like an equal. His hand left the two glassy black tufts of his beard as he stepped forward.

He gave the universal gesture of peace. Both hands were before him; hard, calloused palms upward.

The young man approached two steps and duplicated the gesture. "I come in peace."

The accent was strange, but the words were understandable, and welcome. He replied, deeply, "In peace be it. You are welcome to the hospitality of the Group. Are you hungry? You shall eat. Are you thirsty? You shall drink."

Slowly, the reply came, "We thank you for your kindness, and shall bear good report of your Group when we return to our world."

A queer answer, but good. Behind him, the men of the Group were smiling, and from the recesses of the surrounding structures, the women emerged.

In his own quarters, he removed the locked, mirror-walled box from its hidden place, and offered each of the guests the long, plump cigars that were reserved for great occasions. Before the woman, he hesitated. She had taken a seat among the men. The strangers evidently allowed, even expected, such effrontery. Stiffly, he offered the box.

She accepted one with a smile, and drew in its aromatic smoke, with all the relish one could expect. Lee Senter repressed a scandalized emotion.

The stiff conversation, in advance of the meal, touched politely upon the subject of fanning on Trantor.

It was the old man who asked, "What about hydroponics? Surely, for such a world as Trantor, hydroponics would be the answer."

Senter shook his head slowly. He felt uncertain. His knowledge was the unfamiliar matter of the books he had read, "Artificial fanning in chemicals, I think? No, not on Trantor. This hydroponics requires a world of industy ?for instance, a great chemical industry. And in war or disaster, when industry breaks down, the people starve. Nor can all foods be grown artificially. Some lose their food value. The soil is cheaper, still better ?always more dependable."

"And your food supply is sufficient?"

"Sufficient; perhaps monotonous. We have fowl that supply eggs, and milk-yielders for our dairy products ?but our meat supply rests upon our foreign trade."

"Trade." The young man seemed roused to sudden interest. "You trade then. But what do you export?"

"Metal," was the curt answer. "Look for yourself. We have an infinite supply, ready processed. They come from Neotrantor with ships, demolish an indicated area-increasing our growing space ?and leave us in exchange meat, canned fruit, food concentrates, farm machinery and so on. They carry off the metal and both sides profit."

They feasted on bread and cheese, and a vegetable stew that was unreservedly delicious. It was over the dessert of frosted fruit, the only imported item on the menu, that, for the first time, the Outlanders became other than mere guests. The young man produced a map of Trantor.

Calmly, Lee Senter studied it. He listened ?and said gravely, "The University Grounds are a static area. We farmers do not grow crops on it. We do not, by preference, even enter it. It is one of our few relics of another time we would keep undisturbed. "

"We are seekers after knowledge. We would disturb nothing. Our ship would be our hostage." The old man offered this ?eagerly, feverishly.

"I can take you there then," said Senter.

That night the strangers slept, and that night Lee Senter sent a message to Neotrantor.
第二十三章 川陀废墟
　　要在巨大的川陀世界上标出某个地点的坐标，本身就是一个极大的难题，这是银河中独一无二的现象。因为在川陀世界上，以任何一点为中心，方圆数千哩的范围之内，都没有任何陆地或海洋能作为该点的参考坐标。当然，如果从云缝间向下俯瞰，也绝对看不到任何河流、湖泊或岛屿。
这个全部被金属覆盖的世界，长久以来一直是一个单一的大都会。只有其上的旧皇宫，是其他世界的异乡人从外太空唯一可以辨识的目标。由于这个原因，“贝妲号”正在川陀的上空，只维持着普通飞车的高度，不停地绕着这个世界团团转，万分艰难地寻找目的地。
他们先来到了极地，这里的金属尖塔全部被冰雪掩覆，显示气候调节机制已经损坏，或者被人弃置不用。他们继续向南飞，偶尔可以看到地面的一些目标，与他们在新川陀取得的简陋地图对应得上，或者应该说，可能有某种程度的对应关系。
但是当他们接近目的地时，立刻可以肯定绝对错不了。覆盖着整个行星的金属壳层，在此处出现一条五十哩长的裂隙，露出几百平方哩不寻常的绿地，古旧庄严的皇宫就坐落在绿地的中央。
“贝妲号”在空中盘旋了一阵子，然后缓缓地转向。地面只有巨大的超级跑道可以参考定向，它们在地图上是长直的箭头，而底下的实物则像是平滑而闪耀的丝带。
他们靠着这些参考目标，摸索到地图所示的川陀大学所在地，再飞到附近一个宽阔的平地上空——这里显然曾经是极忙碌的着陆场——然后将太空船缓缓降落下来。
直到太空船全部没入金属丛林之后，他们才发现在天空中看来光洁美丽的金属表面，其实是一片破败、歪扭、近似废墟的建筑群，处处透显着“大浩劫”之后的凄凉。高高的尖塔从中断裂，原本平滑的墙壁变得歪七扭八，而且上面斑痕累累。在这些巨型的破铜烂铁之中，他们瞥见了一块露天的黑色土壤——差下多有几百亩大小——而且上面还有农作物。
李•森特战战兢兢地等待那艘太空船降落。这艘船外表奇形怪状，显然不是新川陀的太空船，他不禁在心中暗叹了一声。外太空来的古怪船舰、古怪的生意人，意味着短暂的和平岁月可能结束，又将回到战祸连年、尸横遍野的“大时代”　。森特是这里农民团体的领导人，负责管理此地所有的古籍，他从这些书籍中知道了旧时的历史，而他不希望这些历史再度重演。
奇异的太空船降落到地面的过程，前后也许只有十分钟，但是在这么短暂的时间中，无数大大小小的往事在森特的脑海迅速掠过。他首先想到幼年时代的大农庄——在他的记忆中，只有一大群人忙碌工作的画面。然后是许多年轻的家族一起迁徙，当时他只有十岁，是父母的独子，什么事都不懂，只感到茫然与恐惧。
他的脑海中又浮现出许多新的建筑物——巨大的金属板被挖起来丢到一旁，新移民开始翻挖重新曝光的土壤，将其中的盐分稀释，使上地再度恢复生机。附近原有的建筑物，有些被推倒铲平，其余的则改建成住宅区。
新移民忙着耕作、收割，同时不忘跟邻近的农场建立友好的关系……
那是一段发展与扩张的岁月，自治的生活越来越上轨道。下一代在土地中成长茁壮，这些勤奋的年轻人终于开始当家作主。森特被选为农民团体领导人的大日子来临了，当天，是他十八岁以后头一次没刮胡子。他满心欢喜地看着自己脸上露出的短髭——等到络腮胡长满之后，他就是一个名副其实的领导人了。
如今却有外人闯进这个世界来，这一段与世隔绝、如牧歌般恬静的短暂岁月，眼看就要被迫结束了。
此时太空船已经降落。当舷门打开时，森特目下转睛地默默注视着。他看到有四个人走出来，全都表现得小心翼翼、机警万分。其中三个人是男性，外表都很不一样——一个是老者、一个是年轻人，另一个则瘦得下像话，鼻子又长得过分。此外还有一名女子，跟他们大摇大摆地走在一起，奸像能跟这些男人平起平坐。森特向前走去，同时右手离开了他光洁的黑胡子。
他做了一个银河共通的和平手势——双手放在面前，粗壮长茧的手掌朝上。
那个年轻男子向前走了两步，也做着相同的动作，并说：“我为了和平的目的而来。”
森特感到对方的口音非常奇怪，不过他仍然听得懂，而且这些话听来也很受用。他以庄重的语气回答：“既然是为和平的目的而来，农民团体欢迎你们，并且将会竭诚招待。你们饿了吗？我们有吃的；你们渴了吗？我们有暍的。”
对方慢慢地回答：“我们感谢你的好意，当我们回到自己的世界，会为你们的团体广为宣扬。”
这是一个奇怪的回答，不过的确很中听。站在森特后面的农民都露出了微笑，而在附近建筑物中，也有下少农妇走了出来。
来到森特的住处后，森特从隐密的角落取出一个小盒子，将上面的锁打开，再推开镶着镜子的盒盖，里面是专为重要场合准备的又长又粗的雪茄。他将雪茄盒逐一递向每位客人，到了那个女子面前时，他稍微犹豫了一下——森特注意到她跟男士们坐在一起，对于这种恬不知耻的行为，这些异邦男士显然毫不在意，而且视为她取了一根雪茄，回报了一个微笑，便开始享受吞云吐雾的乐趣。李•森特必须尽量压抑自己，才能压住不断冒起的嫌恶情绪。
在用餐之前，异邦人与森特做了一段生硬的谈话，客套地谈到在川陀从事农业的情形。
那个老者首先问道：“水耕农业发展得如何？像川陀这样的世界，水耕当然是最佳的选择。”
森特缓缓地摇了摇头，他下能确定是否听懂了对方的话。因为他的知识都是从书本上读来的，都是他所不熟悉的事物。
“我想，你指的是利用化学肥料的人工栽培法？不，在川陀并不用这种方法。水耕法需要许多工业配合——比如说庞大的化学工业。但是在遇到战乱或天灾的时候，工业一旦停摆的话，大家就得挨饿了。此外，也不是所有的食物都能以人工栽培，有些食物的营养会因此流失。土壤则又便宜又好——而且永远可靠。”
“你们生产的粮食够吃吗？”
“绝对够吃，虽然种类并不多。此外，我们饲养家禽来生蛋，还养了乳牛、乳羊，用它们的奶做成乳制品——不过肉类倒是需要跟其他世界交易。”
“交易？”年轻男子似乎突然有了兴趣：“所以你们也有贸易，可是你们出口什么呢？”
“金属。”森特的回答很简单，然后又补充说：“你们自己看一看，我们这里的金属存量无穷无尽，而且都是现成的。那些人从新川陀驾着太空船前来，在我们指定的地区拆下一些金属板，用肉类、罐头水果、浓缩食品、农机等等作为交换。他们得到了金属，我们的耕地面积也增加了，双方都因而受惠。”
他们享用了一顿丰盛的晚餐，有面包、乳酪，还有极美味的蔬菜盅。等到冷冻水果——餐桌上唯一的进口食物——端上来的时候，这些异邦人终于谈到了正题。
年轻男子拿出川陀的地图，对森特叙述他们的目的地。李•森特静静地研究着地图，等到对方说完了，他才表情严肃地说：“大学的校园是禁区，农夫不在那里种植任何作物，没有必要的话，也尽量不走进去。它是硕果仅存的几个古迹之一 ，我们希望能保持完整。”
“我们是来寻求知识的，绝对不会破坏任何东西。如果有必要，我们可以把太空船质押在这里。”老者提出了这个建议，他的口气急切而激动。
“这样的话，我就可以带你们去那里。”森特说。
当晚，四个异邦人人睡之后，李•森特便向新川陀送出了一道讯息。
24. CONVERT
The thin life of Trantor trickled to nothing when they entered among the wide-spaced buildings of the University grounds. There was a solemn and lonely silence over it.

The strangers of the Foundation knew nothing of the swirling days and nights of the bloody Sack that had left the University untouched. They knew nothing of the time after the collapse of the Imperial power, when the students, with their borrowed weapons, and their pale-faced inexperienced bravery, formed a protective volunteer army to protect the central shrine of the science of the Galaxy. They knew nothing of the Seven Days Fight, and the armistice that kept the University free, when even the Imperial palace clanged with the boots of Gilmer and his soldiers, during the short interval of their rule.

Those of the Foundation, approaching for the first time, realized only that in a world of transition from a gutted old to a strenuous new this area was a quiet, graceful museum-piece of ancient greatness.

They were intruders in a sense. The brooding emptiness rejected them. The academic atmosphere seemed still to live and to stir angrily at the disturbance.

The library was a deceptively small building which broadened out vastly underground into a mammoth volume of silence and reverie. Ebling Mis paused before the elaborate murals of the reception room.

He whispered ?one had to whisper here: "I think we passed the catalog rooms back a way. I'll stop there."

His forehead was flushed, his hand trembling, "I mustn't be disturbed, Toran. Will you bring my meals down to me?"

"Anything you say. We'll do all we can to help. Do you want us to work under you?

"No. I must be alone?

"You think you will get what you want."

And Ebling Mis replied with a soft certainty, "I know I will!"

Toran and Bayta came closer to "setting up housekeeping" in normal fashion than at any time in their year of married life. It was a strange sort of "housekeeping." They lived in the middle of grandeur with an inappropriate simplicity. Their food was drawn largely from Lee Senter's farm and was paid for in the little nuclear gadgets that may be found on any Trader's ship.

Magnifico taught himself how to use the projectors in the library reading room, and sat over adventure novels and romances to the point where he was almost as forgetful of meals and sleep as was Ebling Mis.

Ebling himself was completely buried. He had insisted on a hammock being slung up for him in the Psychology Reference Room. His face grew thin and white. His vigor of speech was lost and his favorite curses had died a mild death. There were times when the recognition of either Toran or Bayta seemed a struggle.

He was more himself with Magnifico who brought him his meals and often sat watching him for hours at a time, with a queer, fascinated absorption, as the aging psychologist transcribed endless equations, cross-referred to endless book-films, scurried endlessly about in a wild mental effort towards an end he alone saw.

Toran came upon her in the darkened room, and said sharply, "Bayta!"

Bayta started guiltily. "Yes? You want me, Torie?"

"Sure I want you. What in Space are you sitting there for? You've been acting all wrong since we got to Trantor. What's the matter with you?"

"Oh, Torie, stop," she said, wearily.

And "Oh, Torie, stop!" he mimicked impatiently. Then, with sudden softness, "Won't you tell me what's wrong, Bay? Something's bothering you."

"No! Nothing is, Torie. If you keep on just nagging and nagging, you'll have me mad. I'm just ?thinking."

"Thinking about what?"

"About nothing. Well, about the Mule, and Haven, and the Foundation, and everything. About Ebling Mis and whether he'll find anything about the Second Foundation, and whether it will help us when he does find it ?and a million other things. Are you satisfied?" Her voice was agitated.

"If you're just brooding, do you mind stopping? It isn't pleasant and it doesn't help the situation."

Bayta got to her feet and smiled weakly. "All right. I'm happy. See, I'm smiling and jolly. "

Magnifico's voice was an agitated cry outside. "My lady?

"What is it? Come?

Bayta's voice choked off sharply when the opening door framed the large, hard-faced?

"Pritcher," cried Toran.

Bayta gasped, "Captain! How did you find us?"

Han Pritcher stepped inside. His voice was clear and level, and utterly dead of feeling, "My rank is colonel now ?under the Mule."

"Under the ... Mule!" Toran's voice trailed off. They formed a tableau there, the three.

Magnifico stared wildly and shrank behind Toran. Nobody stopped to notice him.

Bayta said, her hands trembling in each other's tight grasp, "You are arresting us? You have really gone over to them?"

The colonel replied quickly, "I have not come to arrest you. My instructions make no mention of you. With regard to you, I am free, and I choose to exercise our old friendship, if you will let me."

Toran's face was a twisted suppression of fury, "How did you find us? You were in the Filian ship, then? You followed us?"

The wooden lack of expression on Pritcher's face might have flickered in embarrassment. "I was on the Filian ship! I met you in the first place ... well ... by chance."

"It is a chance that is mathematically impossible."

"No. Simply rather improbable, so my statement will have to stand. In any case, you admitted to the. Filians ?there is, of course, no such nation as Filia actually ?that you were heading for the Trantor sector, and since the Mule already had his contacts upon Neotrantor, it was easy to have you detained there. Unfortunately, you got away before I arrived, but not long before. I had time to have the farms on Trantor ordered to report your arrival. It was done and I am here. May I sit down? I come in friendliness, believe me.

He sat. Toran bent his head and thought futilely. With a numbed lack of emotion, Bayta prepared tea.

Toran looked up harshly. "Well, what are you waiting for ?colonel? What's your friendship? If it's not arrest, what is it then? Protective custody? Call in your men and give your orders."

Patiently, Pritcher shook his head. "No, Toran. I come of my own will to speak to you, to persuade you of the uselessness of what you are doing. If I fail I shall leave. That is all."

"That is all? Well, then peddle your propaganda, give us your speech, and leave. I don't want any tea, Bayta."

Pritcher accepted a cup, with a grave word of thanks. He looked at Toran with a clear strength as he sipped lightly. Then he said, "The Mule is a mutant. He can not be beaten in the very nature of the mutation?

"Why? What is the mutation?" asked Toran, with sour humor. "I suppose you'll tell us now, eh?"

"Yes, I will. Your knowledge won't hurt him. You see ?he is capable of adjusting the emotional balance of human beings. It sounds like a little trick, but it's quite unbeatable."

Bayta broke in, "The emotional balance?" She frowned, "Won't you explain that? I don't quite understand."

"I mean that it is an easy matter for him to instill into a capable general, say, the emotion of utter loyalty to the Mule and complete belief in the Mule's victory. His generals are emotionally controlled. They can not betray him; they can not weaken ?and the control is permanent. His most capable enemies become his most faithful subordinates, The warlord of Kalgan surrenders his planet and becomes his viceroy for the Foundation."

"And you," added Bayta, bitterly, "betray your cause and become Mule's envoy to Trantor. I see!"

"I haven't finished. The Mule's gift works in reverse even more effectively. Despair is an emotion! At the crucial moment, keymen on the Foundation ?keymen on Haven ?despaired. Their worlds fell without too much struggle."

"Do you mean to say," demanded Bayta, tensely, "that the feeling I had in the Time Vault was the Mule juggling my emotional control."

"Mine, too. Everyone's. How was it on Haven towards the end?"

Bayta turned away.

Colonel Pritcher continued earnestly, "As it works for worlds, so it works for individuals. Can you fight a force which can make you surrender willingly when it so desires; can make you a faithful servant when it so desires?"

Toran said slowly, "How do I know this is the truth?"

"Can you explain the fall of the Foundation and of Haven otherwise? Can you explain my conversion otherwise? Think, man! What have you ?or I ?or the whole Galaxy accomplished against the Mule in all this time? What one little thing?"

Toran felt the challenge, "By the Galaxy, I can!" With a sudden touch of fierce satisfaction, he shouted, "Your wonderful Mule had contacts with Neotrantor you say that were to have detained us, eh? Those contacts are dead or worse. We killed the crown prince and left the other a whimpering idiot. The Mule did not stop us there, and that much has been undone."

"Why, no, not at all. Those weren't our men. The crown prince was a wine-soaked mediocrity. The other man, Commason, is phenomenally stupid. He was a power on his world but that didn't prevent him from being vicious, evil, and completely incompetent. We had nothing really to do with them. They were, in a sense, merely feints?

"It was they who detained us, or tried."

"Again, no. Commason had a personal slave ?a man called Inchney. Detention was his policy. He is old, but will serve our temporary purpose. You would not have killed him, you see."

Bayta whirled on him. She had not touched her own tea. "But, by your very statement, your own emotions have been tampered with. You've got faith and belief in the Mule, an unnatural, a diseased faith in the Mule. Of what value are your opinions? You've lost all power of objective thought."

"You are wrong." Slowly, the colonel shook his head. "Only my emotions are fixed. My reason is as it always was. It may be influenced in a certain direction by my conditioned emotions, but it is not forced. And there are some things I can see more clearly now that I am freed of my earlier emotional trend.

"I can see that the Mule's program is an intelligent and worthy one. In the time since I have been ?converted, I have followed his career from its start seven years ago. With his mutant mental power, he began by winning over a condottiere and his band. With that ?and his power ?he won a planet. With that ?and his power ?he extended his grip until he could tackle the warlord of Kalgan. Each step followed the other logically. With Kalgan in his pocket, he had a first-class fleet, and with that ?and his power ?he could attack the Foundation.

"The Foundation is the key. It is the greatest area of industrial concentration in the Galaxy, and now that the nuclear techniques of the Foundation are in his hands, he is the actual master of the Galaxy. With those techniques ?and his power ?he can force the remnants of the Empire to acknowledge his rule, and eventually ?with the death of the old emperor, who is mad and not long for this world ?to crown him emperor. He will then have the name as well as the fact. With that ?and his power ?where is the world in the Galaxy that can oppose him?

"In these last seven years, he has established a new Empire. In seven years, in other words, he will have accomplished what all Seldon's psychohistory could not have done in less than aaaadditional seven hundred. The Galaxy will have peace and order at last.

"And you could not stop it ?any more than you could stop a planet's rush with your shoulders."

A long silence followed Pritcher's speech. What remained of his tea had grown cold. He emptied his cup, filled it again, and drained it slowly. Toran bit viciously at a thumbnail. Bayta's face was cold, and distant, and white.

Then Bayta said in a thin voice, "We are not convinced. If the Mule wishes us to be, let him come here and condition us himself. You fought him until the last moment of your conversion, I imagine, didn't you?"

"I did," said Colonel Pritcher, solemnly.

"Then allow us the same privilege."

Colonel Pritcher arose. With a crisp air of finality, he said, "Then I leave. As I said earlier, my mission at present concerns you in no way. Therefore, I don't think it will be necessary to report your presence here. That is not too great a kindness. If the Mule wishes you stopped, he no doubt has other men assigned to the job, and you will be stopped. But, for what it is worth, I shall not contribute more than my requirement."

"Thank you," said Bayta faintly.

"As for Magnifico. Where is he? Come out, Magnifico, I won't hurt you?

"What about him?" demanded Bayta, with sudden animation.

"Nothing. My instructions make no mention of him, either. I have heard that he is searched for, but the Mule will find him when the time suits him. I shall say nothing. Will you shake hands?"

Bayta shook her head. Toran glared his frustrated contempt.

There was the slightest lowering of the colonel's iron shoulders. He strode to the door, turned and said:

"One last thing. Don't think I am not aware of the source of your stubbornness. It is known that you search for the Second Foundation. The Mule, in his time, will take his measures. Nothing will help you ?But I knew you in other times; perhaps there is something in my conscience that urged me to this; at any rate, I tried to help you and remove you from the final danger before it was too late. Good-by."

He saluted sharply ?and was gone.

Bayta turned to a silent Toran, and whispered, "They even know about the Second Foundation."

In the recesses of the library, Ebling Mis, unaware of all, crouched under the one spark of light amid the murky spaces and mumbled triumphantly to himself.
第二十四章 回转者
　　当他们进入了大学的校园，置身于各大楼间的空旷地带后，发现此地果然没有一点人迹，四周有的只是庄严与孤寂的气氛。
这些来自基地的异邦人，对于“大浩劫”那段腥风血雨、天翻地覆的日子一无所知，也完全不知道皇帝被打垮之后，川陀所发生的一连串变故——大学里的学生们，虽然毫无作战经验，个个吓得脸色苍白，却仍然英勇地抓起借来的武器，组成一支志愿军，誓死保卫这个银河学术圣地。这些异邦人也没有听说过“七日战争”，还有当吉尔模的铁蹄蹂躏川陀世界的时候，虽然连皇宫都无法幸免，却奇迹般地放过了川陀大学。
这四位来自基地、首度进入校园的访客，唯一能感觉到的是，在这个从废墟中重生的新世界里，此地是一个宁谧、优雅的古迹，仍然保留着往昔的荣光。
就这一点而言，他们四人可以算是入侵者。笼罩着四面八方的真空状态，明显地下欢迎他们的到来；这里似乎仍然弥漫着当年的学术气息，对于外人的打搅表现出了不悦与不安。
图书馆的外观是一幢小型的建筑物，然而那只是冰山一角。为了提供学者一个宁静的冥想空间，这个庞大的图书馆，绝大部分的结构都深埋在地下。
艾布林•米斯走进了图书馆的会客室，驻足在精美的壁画之前。
他小声地说——在这种地方说话自然而然会压低声音：“我想我们已经走过了头，目录室应该在后面，我现在就去那里。”
他的额头泛红，双手微微打颤，又说：“绝对不能有人打扰我，杜伦，你能不能帮我送饭？”
“你怎么说我们就怎么办，我们会尽一切力量帮助你。你是否需要我们当你的助手，帮你……”
“不，我必须单独工作……”
“你认为能够找到你想要找的吗？”
艾布林•米斯以充满自信的口气轻声回答：“我知道我做得到。”
自从结婚以来，杜伦与贝妲现在这段时期的生活，才算是最接近普通的“小俩口过日子” 。不过这是一种很特殊的“过日子”方式，他们住在一座雄伟壮观的建筑物之中，却过着很不相称的简朴生活。他们的食物大多来自李•森特的农场，而他们用来交换食物的东西，是任何一艘太空商船都不缺的小型核能装置。
马巨擘在图书馆的阅览室中，自己学缓笏如何使用投影机，便一头栽进冒险小说与传奇小说的世界，几乎变得跟艾布林•米斯一样废寝忘食。
艾布林全天候投入研究工作，他坚持要在“心理学参考图书室”搭一个吊床，以便可以一天到晚都待在里面。他的脸庞变得越来越瘦削，越来越苍白，说话不像以前那样中气十足，过去最喜欢挂在嘴边的那些咒骂，也在不知不觉间消失无踪。有些时候，他甚至得花好大的力气，才能够分辨出谁是杜伦、谁是贝妲。
米斯大部分的时间都跟马巨擘在一起。马巨擘负责为他送餐点，常常顺便留下来，一坐就是几个小时，全神贯洼地看着这位老心理学家工作——抄写数不清的数学方程式、不断比较着各个书报胶卷的内容、耗费全身上下所有的精力，朝着只有他自己看得见的目标拼命努力。不知道为什么，马巨擘竟然会对这些工作那么有兴趣。
杜伦走进昏暗的房间，挨近贝妲身边，突然大声叫道：“贝妲！”
贝妲吃了一惊，用心虚的口吻说：“啊？杜，你有事找我吗？”
“我当然有事找你，你到底坐在这里干什么？自从我们来到川陀，你就处处不对劲，你是怎么了？”
“喔，杜，别说了。”贝妲不耐烦地答道。
“喔，杜，别说了！”杜伦故意学她说话，接着忽然又温柔地说：“你不想告诉我究竟是怎么回事？贝，我看得出你有心事。”
“不！杜，我没有心事。如果你继续这样子不停地唠唠叨叨、唠唠叨叨，我会给你烦死的。我只不过是……在想……”
“在想什么？”
“什么也没有——好吧，是关于骡、赫汶、基地，还有一切的一切。我还在想艾布林•米斯，不知道他会不会找到有关第二基地的线索；如果他真的找到了，第二基地会不会肯帮我们——还有几百万件其他的事情。这样你满意了吗？”她的声音变得越来越激动。
“如果你只是在胡思乱想的话，请你现在就停止好吗？老是这样你心里会不舒服，对目前的情况也于事无补。”
贝妲站了起来，勉强笑了笑：“好吧，我现在开心了。你看，我不是高兴得笑了吗？”
外面突然传来马巨擘慌张的叫声：“我亲爱的女士——”
“有什么事吗？进来……”
贝妲说到一半就陡然住口，因为门一开，出现的竟是一个魁梧的身躯，一张冷峻的脸孔……
“普利吉！”杜伦惊叫。
贝妲猛喘了几口气，然后说：“上尉！你是怎么找到我们的？”
汉•普利吉走进房间来，对他们两人说：“我现在的阶级是上校——在骡的麾下。”他的声音清晰而平板，完全不带任何感情。
“在……骡的麾下！”杜伦的声音越来越小。
室内的三个人面面相觑，形成了一幅静止的画面。
马巨擘钻进来，一看到这种场面，吓得躲到杜伦身后，不过其他人都没有注意到他。
贝妲紧握双手，却仍止不住地发抖。她说：“你要来逮捕我们？你真的投靠他们了？”
上校立刻回答说：“我不是来逮捕你们的，我所接受的指令并没有提到你们。要如何对待你们，我有选择的自由，而我的选择是跟你们重叙旧谊，如果你们不反对的话。”
杜伦勉力压抓着愤怒的表情，整个脸孔都扭曲了。他说：“你是如何找到我们的？这么说的话，你真的在那艘菲利亚缉私舰上？你是一路跟踪我们来的？”
普利吉木然而毫无表情的睑上，似乎闪过了一丝窘态。他回答道：“我的确是在那艘菲利亚舰上。我当初遇到你们……嗯……只不过是巧合。”
“这种巧合，数学上的机率等于零。”
“不，只能说是极不可能发生，所以我的说法仍然成立。无论如何，你们曾向那些菲利亚人承认，说你们的目的地是川陀星区——当然，其实根本没有一个叫作菲利亚的国家。由于骡早就和新川陀有了接触，要把你们扣押在那里是轻而易举的事。可惜的是，在我到达那里之前，你们却已经跑掉了。不过我总算及时赶到，赶紧向川陀的农场下达命令——当你们到达川陀的时候，就立刻向我报告。而我一接到报告，就马不停蹄地赶了来。我可以坐下吗？我是以好朋友的身分来看你们的，请相信我。”说完他就坐了下来。
杜伦垂下头，满脑子一片空白。贝妲动手准备倒茶，却没有表现出半点的热诚或亲切。
杜伦突然拾起头，厉声说道：“好吧，‘上校’，你到底在等什么？你要表现的友谊又是什么？如果不是逮捕我们，又是什么呢？保护管束吗？叫你的人进来，命令他们动手好了。”
普利吉很有耐心地摇摇头：“不，杜伦，我这次来见你们，，纯粹是我个人的行动，我是想来劝告你们，别再做任何徒劳无功的努力。如果说不动你们，我马上自动离去，就是如此而已。”
“如此而已？好，那么打开你的传声筒，开始进行你的宣传演说吧，说完就赶紧请便——贝妲，别帮我倒茶。”
普利吉接过了茶杯，态度认真地向贝坦道谢。然后他一面轻轻啜着茶，一面用有力的目光凝视着杜伦，对他说：“骡是个突变种，他的突变简直无懈可击……”
“为什么？究竟是什么样的突变？”杜伦没好气地问：“我想你现在能告诉我们了，是吗？”
“是的，我会的。即使让你们全知道这个秘密，对他也根本毫无损失。你可知道——他有办法调整人类的情感平衡，这听来像是一个小把戏，事实上却具有天下无敌的威力。”
“情感平衡？”贝妲插嘴道，然后皱着眉说：“请你解释一下好吗？我不太明白。”
“我的意思是说，他能在一个威猛的将军心中，轻而易举地注入任何形式的情感。比如说，对于骡的绝对忠诚，还有对于骡的胜利百分之百的信心。他麾下的将军都受到如此的情感控制，他们绝对不会背叛他，信心也绝不会动摇——而且这种控制是永久的。当初最顽强的敌人，如今也变作了最忠心的下属。像卡尔根的那个统领，就是心甘情愿地投降，献出了他的行星，如今成为骡派驻在基地的总督。”
“而你——”贝妲刻毒地补充一句：“背叛了你的信仰，成了骡派到川陀来的特使。现在我明白了！”；　　“我的话还没有说完——骡的这种天赋异禀，反过来使用的效果甚至更好。绝望也是一种情感！在最紧要的关头，基地上的重要人物、赫汶星上的重要人物——全都感到无比绝望，他们的世界没有如何抵抗，就轻易地投降了。”
“你的意思是说，”贝坦紧张地追问：“我在穹窿中会产生那种感觉，是由于骡在拨弄我的情感？”
“我自己也一样，我们大家都一样。当赫汶快沦陷的时候，情形又是如何？”
贝妲转过头去不愿作答。
普利吉上校继续一本正经地说：“骡的能力既然可以用来对付整个世界，对付个人自然游刀有余。他能够随心所欲地让你投降，让你成为他死心塌地的忠仆，这种力量有谁能够抗衡？”
杜伦缓缓地说：“我又怎么知道你说的都是事实？”
“除此之外，你要如何解释基地与赫汶的陷落？你又如何解释我的‘回转’？老兄，想想看！直到目前为止，你——我——或者整个银河，对抗骡的成绩究竟如何？是不是完全徒劳无功？”
杜伦感到对方在向自己挑战，他回嘴道：“银河在上，我能够解释！”
他突然感到信心十足，高声地叫道：“你那个万能的骡和新川陀早就有联络，你自己说过，扣押我们就是他的意思，啊？那些联络人如今非死即伤，我们把皇太子给杀了，另外一个变成哭哭啼啼的白痴。骡并没有成功地阻止我们，至少这一次他失败了。”
“喔，不，根本不是这么回事。那两个并不是我们的人，那个皇太子是个沉迷酒色的庸才，而另外那个人——柯玛生，他简直是超级大笨蛋，虽然他在自己的世界中拥有大权，却是个既刻毒又邪恶的无能之辈。我们跟这两个人其实没有什么瓜葛，他们只能算是两个傀儡……”
“然而是他们两人扣押——想要扣押我们的。”
“还是不对，柯玛生身边有一个奴隶，名叫殷奇尼，扣押你们是他出的主意。那个家伙年纪已经很大了，不过暂时对我们还有利用价值，所以不能让你们把他解决，你懂了吧。”
贝妲将根本没有动过的茶杯放下，转过身来说：“可是，根据你自己的说法，你自己的情感已经被动了手脚，你现在对骡产生了信心——一种不自然的、病态的信心。你现在的见解又有多少真实性？你已经完全失去了客观思考的能力。”
“你错了——”上校又缓缓地摇了摇头，再解释道：“我只有情感被定型，我的理性仍旧和过去一模一样。制约之后的情感也许会对理性造成某些影响，然而这并非强迫性的。反之，我摆脱了过去的情感羁绊，有些事反而能够看得更清楚。
”我现在终于可以看出来，骡的计划是睿智而崇高的。在我的心意‘回转’之后，我才领悟到他在过去七年——从他发迹开始到现在的所有经历。他利用与生俱来的精神力量，首先收眼了一队佣兵；利用这些佣兵，再加上他自己的能力，他攻占了一个行星；利用该行星上的兵力，再加上他自己的能力，他不断地扩张势力范围，终于能够对付卡尔根的统领。每一个步骤的发展都环环相扣，合理而可行。当卡尔根成为他的囊中物之后，他便拥有了第一流的舰队，利用这个舰队，再加上他自己的能力，他就有办法攻打基地。
“在骡的计划中，基地具有关键性的地位，因为它是银河中最重要的工业重镇。如今基地的核能科技落在他手中，他其实已经是银河之主。利用这些科技，再加上他自己的能力，他可以迫使帝国的残余势力俯首称臣，而最后——当那个不久于人世、又老又疯的皇帝死了之后，他就能为自己加冕，成为名副其实的银河帝国皇帝。有了这个名位与实权，再加上他自己的特殊能力，银河中还有哪一个世界敢反抗他？”
“在过去的七年间，他已经建立了一个新的帝国。换句话说，谢顿的心理史学需要再花七百年才能完成的功业，他只要花七年的时间就能达成目标，银河即将重享和平与秩序。”
“而你们绝不可能阻止他的计划——就如同人力无法阻止行星运转一样。”
普利吉一口气说完之后，室内维持了好一阵子的沉默。他发现没喝完的半杯茶已经凉了，于是将茶倒掉，重新添了一杯，慢慢一口一口地暍着。
这段时间中，杜伦愤怒地咬着指甲，贝妲则是一脸苍白，表情僵凝。
然后贝妲以细弱的声音说：“我们还是不信，如果骡希望我们信服，叫他自己到这里来，亲自制约我们。我可以想像，在你‘回转’之前，一定奋力抵抗到最后一刻，是下是？”
“我的确如此。”普利吉上校严肃地说。
“那么让我们也保有这个权利。”
普利吉上校站起身来，以断然的态度，清晰有力地说：“那么我走了。正如我刚才说过的，我目前的任务与你们毫无牵连，因此我想我也不必报告你们的行踪。这算不上是什么恩惠，如果骡希望你们住手，无疑缓箜行指派他人进行这个任务，而你们的计划注定会夭折。不过，我犯不着多管这档子闲事。”
“谢谢你。”贝妲含糊地说。
“至于马巨擘，他在哪里？出来，马巨擘，我不会伤害你……”
“找他做什么？”贝坦的声音突然变得激昂。
“没什么，我接到的指令也没有提到他。我听说骡指名要寻找他，但是既然骡要找他，在最合适的时候一定就能找到，我什么也不会说的。我们握握手好吗？”
贝妲却摇摇头，杜伦也只是以软弱的轻蔑目光瞪着普利吉。
上校钢铁般强健的臂膀，似乎微微下垂了一些。他大步走到门口，又转过身来说：“还有最后一件事——别以为我不知道你们为何那么固执，我晓得你们正在寻找第二基地。当时机来临时，骡就会采取必要的行动，没有人能够帮助你们——但由于我不是今天才认识你们，也许是良心驱使我这么做，无论如何，我已经尽力想要帮助你们，希望你们能及时回头，避掉最后的危险——告辞。”
他行了一个俐落的军礼，然后掉头便走。
贝妲转身面对哑口无言的杜伦，对他轻声说道：“他们甚趾蟋第二基地也知道了。”
此时，在川陀大学图书馆一个幽深的角落里，艾布林•米斯对于刚才发生的事情浑然不觉。在这个昏暗的空间中，他蜷缩在微弱的灯光下，正一个人得意洋洋地喃喃自语。
25. DEATH OF A PSYCHOLOGIST
After that there were only two weeks left to the life of Ebling Mis.

And in those two weeks, Bayta was with him three times. The first time was on the night after the evening upon which they saw Colonel Pritcher. The second was one week later. And the third was again a week later ?on the last day ?the day Mis died.

First, there was the night of Colonel Pritcher's evening, the first hour of which was spent by a stricken pair in a brooding, unmerry merry-go-round.

Bayta said, "Torie, let's tell Ebling."

Toran said dully, "Think he can help?"

"We're only two. We've got to take some of the weight off. Maybe he can help."

Toran said, "He's changed. He's lost weight. He's a little feathery; a little woolly." His fingers groped in air, metaphorically. "Sometimes, I don't think he'll help us muchever. Sometimes, I don't think anything will help."

"Don't!" Bayta's voice caught and escaped a break, "Torie, don't! When you say that, I think the Mule's getting us. Let's tell Ebling, Torie ?now!"

Ebling Mis raised his head from the long desk, and bleared at them as they approached. His thinning hair was scuffed up, his lips made sleepy, smacking sounds.

"Eh?" he said. "Someone want me?"

Bayta bent to her knees, "Did we wake you? Shall we leave?"

"Leave? Who is it? Bayta? No, no, stay! Aren't there chairs? I saw them? His finger pointed vaguely.

Toran pushed two ahead of him. Bayta sat down and took one of the psychologist's flaccid hands in hers. "May we talk to you, Doctor?" She rarely used the title.

"Is something wrong?" A little sparkle returned to his abstracted eyes. His sagging cheeks regained a touch of color. "Is something wrong?"

Bayta said, "Captain Pritcher has been here. Let me talk, Torie. You remember Captain Pritcher, Doctor?"

"Yes?Yes? His fingers pinched his lips and released them. "Tall man. Democrat."

"Yes, he. He's discovered the Mule's mutation. He was here, Doctor, and told us."

"But that is nothing new. The Mule's mutation is straightened out." In honest astonishment, "Haven't I told you? Have I forgotten to tell you?"

"Forgotten to tell us what?" put in Toran, quickly.

"About the Mule's mutation, of course. He tampers with emotions. Emotional control! I haven't told you? Now what made me forget?" Slowly, he sucked in his under lip and considered.

Then, slowly, life crept into his voice and his eyelids lifted wide, as though his sluggish brain had slid onto a well-greased single track. He spoke in a dream, looking between the two listeners rather than at them. "It is really so simple. It requires no specialized knowledge. In the mathematics of psychohistory, of course, it works out promptly, in a third-level equation involving no more ?Never mind that. It can be put into ordinary words ?roughly ?and have it make sense, which isn't usual with psychohistorical phenomena.

"Ask yourselves ?What can upset Hari Seldon's careful scheme of history, eh?" He peered from one to the other with a mild, questioning anxiety. "What were Seldon's original assumptions? First, that there would be no fundamental change in human society over the next thousand years.

"For instance, suppose there were a major change in the Galaxy's technology, such as finding a new principle for the utilization of energy, or perfecting the study of electronic neurobiology. Social changes would render Seldon's original equations obsolete. But that hasn't happened, has it now?"

"Or suppose that a new weapon were to be invented by forces outside the Foundation, capable of withstanding all the Foundation's armaments. That might cause a ruinous deviation, though less certainly. But even that hasn't happened. The Mule's Nuclear Field-Depressor was a clumsy weapon and could be countered. And that was the only novelty he presented, poor as it was.

"But there was a second assumption, a more subtle one! Seldon assumed that human reaction to stimuli would remain constant. Granted that the first assumption held true, then the second must have broken down! Some factor must be twisting and distorting the emotional responses of human beings or Seldon couldn't have failed and the Foundation couldn't have fallen. And what factor but the Mule?

"Am I right? Is there a flaw in the reasoning?"

Bayta's plump hand patted his gently. "No flaw, Ebling."

Mis was joyful, like a child. "This and more comes so easily. I tell you I wonder sometimes what is going on inside me. I seem to recall the time when so much was a mystery to me and now things are so clear. Problems are absent. I come across what might be one, and somehow, inside me, I see and understand. And my guesses, my theories seem always to be borne out. There's a drive in me ... always onward ... so that I can't stop ... and I don't want to eat or sleep ... but always go on ... and on ... and on?

His voice was a whisper; his wasted, blue-veined hand rested tremblingly upon his forehead. There was a frenzy in his eyes that faded and went out.

He said more quietly, "Then I never told you about the Mule's mutant powers, did I? But then ... did you say you knew about it?"

"It was Captain Pritcher, Ebling," said Bayta. "Remember?"

"He told you?" There was a tinge of outrage in his tone. "But how did he find out?"

"He's been conditioned by the Mule. He's a colonel now, a Mule's man. He came to advise us to surrender to the Mule, and he told us ?what you told us."

"Then the Mule knows we're here? I must hurry ?Where's Magnifico? Isn't he with you?"

"Magnifico's sleeping," said Toran, impatiently. "It's past midnight, you know."

"It is? Then ?Was I sleeping when you came in?"

"You were," said Bayta decisively, "and you're not going back to work, either. You're getting into bed. Come on, Torie, help me. And you stop pushing at me, Ebling, because it's just your luck I don't shove you under a shower first. Pull off his shoes, Torie, and tomorrow you come down here and drag him out into the open air before he fades completely away. Look at you, Ebling, you'll be growing cobwebs. Are you hungry?"

Ebling Mis shook his head and looked up from his cot in a peevish confusion. "I want you to send Magnifico down tomorrow," he muttered.

Bayta tucked the sheet around his neck. "You'll have me down tomorrow, with washed clothes. You're going to take a good bath, and then get out and visit the farm and feel a little sun on you."

"I won't do it," said Mis weakly. "You hear me? I'm too busy."

His sparse hair spread out on the pillow like a silver fringe about his head. His voice was a confidential whisper. "You want that Second Foundation, don't you?"

Toran turned quickly and squatted down on the cot beside him. "What about the Second Foundation, Ebling?"

The psychologist freed an arm from beneath the sheet and his tired fingers clutched at Toran's sleeve. "The Foundations were established at a great Psychological Convention presided over by Hari Seldon. Toran, I have located the published minutes of that Convention. Twenty-five fat films. I have already looked through various summaries."

"Well?"

"Well, do you know that it is very easy to find from them the exact location of the First Foundation, if you know anything at all about psychohistory. It is frequently referred to, when you understand the equations. But Toran, nobody mentions the Second Foundation, There has been no reference to it anywhere."

Toran's eyebrows pulled into a frown. "It doesn't exist?"

"Of course it exists," cried Mis, angrily, "who said it didn't? But there's less talk of it. Its significance ?and all about it ?are better hidden, better obscured. Don't you see? It's the more important of the two. It's the critical one; the one that counts! And I've got the minutes of the Seldon Convention. The Mule hasn't won yet?

Quietly, Bayta turned the lights down. "Go to sleep!"

Without speaking, Toran and Bayta made their way up to their own quarters.

The next day, Ebling Mis bathed and dressed himself, saw the sun of Trantor and felt the wind of Trantor for the last time. At the end of the day he was once again submerged in the gigantic recesses of the library, and never emerged thereafter.

In the week that followed, life settled again into its groove. The sun of Neotrantor was a calm, bright star in Trantor's night sky. The farm was busy with its spring planting. The University grounds were silent in their desertion. The Galaxy seemed empty. The Mule might never have existed.

Bayta was thinking that as she watched Toran light his cigar carefully and look up at the sections of blue sky visible between the swarming metal spires that encircled the horizon.

"It's a nice day," he said.

"Yes, it is. Have you everything mentioned on the list, Torie?"

"Sure. Half pound butter, dozen eggs, string beans ?Got it all down here, Bay. I'll have it right."

"Good. And make sure the vegetables are of the last harvest and not museum relics. Did you see Magnifico anywhere, by the way?"

"Not since breakfast. Guess he's down with Ebling, watching a book-film."

"All right. Don't waste any time, because I'll need the eggs for dinner."

Toran left with a backward smile and a wave of the hand.

Bayta turned away as Toran slid out of sight among the maze of metal. She hesitated before the kitchen door, about-faced slowly, and entered the colonnade leading to the elevator that burrowed down into the recesses.

Ebling Mis was there, head bent down over the eyepieces of the projector, motionless, a frozen, questing body. Near him sat Magnifico, screwed up into a chair, eyes sharp and watching ?a bundle of slatty limbs with a nose emphasizing his scrawny face.

Bayta said softly, "Magnifico?

Magnifico scrambled to his feet. His voice was an eager whisper. "My lady!"

"Magnifico," said Bayta, "Toran has left for the farm and won't be back for a while. Would you be a good boy and go out after him with a message that I'll write for you?"

"Gladly, my lady. My small services are but too eagerly yours, for the tiny uses you can put them to."

She was alone with Ebling Mis, who had not moved. Firmly, she placed her hand upon his shoulder. "Ebling?

The psychologist started, with a peevish cry, "What is it?" He wrinkled his eyes. "Is it you, Bayta? Where's Magnifico?"

"I sent him away. I want to be alone with you for a while." She enunciated her words with exaggerated distinctness. "I want to talk to you, Ebling."

The psychologist made a move to return to his projector, but her hand on his shoulder was firm. She felt the bone under the sleeve clearly. The flesh seemed to have fairly melted away since their arrival on Trantor. His face was thin, yellowish, and bore a half-week stubble. His shoulders were visibly stooped, even in a sitting position.

Bayta said, "Magnifico isn't bothering you, is he, Ebling? He seems to be down here night and day."

"No, no, no! Not at all. Why, I don't mind him. He is silent and never disturbs me. Sometimes he carries the films back and forth for me; seems to know what I want without my speaking. Just let him be."

"Very well ?but, Ebling, doesn't he make you wonder? Do you hear me, Ebling? Doesn't he make you wonder?"

She jerked a chair close to his and stared at him as though to pull the answer out of his eyes.

Ebling Mis shook his head. "No. What do you mean?"

"I mean that Colonel Pritcher and you both say the Mule can condition the emotions of human beings. But are you sure of it? Isn't Magnifico himself a flaw in the theory?"

There was silence.

Bayta repressed a strong desire to shake the psychologist. "What's wrong with you, Ebling? Magnifico was the Mule's clown. Why wasn't he conditioned to love and faith? Why should he, of all those in contact with the Mule, hate him so.

"But ... but he was conditioned. Certainly, Bay!" He seemed to gather certainty as he spoke. "Do you suppose that the Mule treats his clown the way he treats his generals? He needs faith and loyalty in the latter, but in his clown he needs only fear. Didn't you ever notice that Magnifico's continual state of panic is pathological in nature? Do you suppose it is natural for a human being to be as frightened as that all the time? Fear to such an extent becomes comic. It was probably comic to the Mule ?and helpful, too, since it obscured what help we might have gotten earlier from Magnifico."

Bayta said, "You mean Magnifico's information about the Mule was false?"

"it was misleading. It was colored by pathological fear. The Mule is not the physical giant Magnifico thinks. He is more probably an ordinary man outside his mental powers. But if it amused him to appear a superman to poor Magnifico? The psychologist shrugged. "In any case, Magnifico's information is no longer of importance."

"What is, then?"

But Mis shook himself loose and returned to his projector.

"What is, then?" she repeated. "The Second Foundation?"

The psychologist's eyes jerked towards her. "Have I told you anything about that? I don't remember telling you anything. I'm not ready yet. What have I told you?"

"Nothing," said Bayta, intensely. "Oh, Galaxy, you've told me nothing, but I wish you would because I'm deathly tired. When will it be over?"

Ebling Mis peered at her, vaguely rueful, "Well, now, my ... my dear, I did not mean to hurt you. I forget sometimes ... who my friends are. Sometimes it seems to me that I must not talk of all this. There's a need for secrecy ?but from the Mule, not from you, my dear." He patted her shoulder with a weak amiability.

She said, "What about the Second Foundation?"

His voice was automatically a whisper, thin and sibilant. "Do you know the thoroughness with which Seldon covered his traces? The proceedings of the Seldon Convention would have been of no use to me at a as little as a month ago, before this strange insight came. Even now, it seems ?tenuous. The papers put out by the Convention are often apparently unrelated; always obscure. More than once I wondered if the members of the Convention, themselves, knew all that was in Seldon's mind. Sometimes I think he used the Convention only as a gigantic front, and single-handed erected the structure?

"Of the Foundations?" urged Bayta.

"Of the Second Foundation! Our Foundation was simple. But the Second Foundation was only a name. It was mentioned, but if there was any elaboration, it was hidden deep in the mathematics. There is still much I don't even begin to understand, but for seven days, the bits have been clumping together into a vague picture.

"Foundation Number One was a world of physical scientists. It represented a concentration of the dying science of the Galaxy under the conditions necessary to make it live again. No psychologists were included. It was a peculiar distortion, and must have had a purpose. The usual explanation was that Seldon's psychohistory worked best where the individual working units ?human beings ?had no knowledge of what was coming, and could therefore react naturally to all situations. Do you follow me, my dear?

"Yes, doctor."

"Then listen carefully. Foundation Number Two was a world of mental scientists. It was the mirror image of our world. Psychology, not physics, was king." Triumphantly. "You see?"

"I don't."

"But think, Bayta, use your head. Hari Seldon knew that his psychohistory could predict only probabilities, and not certainties. There was always a margin of error, and as time passed that margin increases in geometric progression. Seldon would naturally guard as well as he could against it. Our Foundation was scientifically vigorous. It could conquer armies and weapons. It could pit force against force. But what of the mental attack of a mutant such as the Mule?"

"That would be for the psychologists of the Second Foundation!" Bayta felt excitement rising within her.

"Yes, yeeeeeee! Certainly!"

"But they have done nothing so far."

"How do you know they haven't?"

Bayta considered that, "I don't. Do you have evidence that they have?"

"No. There are many factors I know nothing of. The Second Foundation could not have been established full-grown, any more than we were. We developed slowly and grew in strength; they must have also. The stars know at what stage their strength is now. Are they strong enough to fight the Mule? Are they aware of the danger in the first place? Have they capable leaders?"

"But if they follow Seldon's plan, then the Mule must be beaten by the Second Foundation."

"Ah," and Ebling Mis's thin face wrinkled thoughtfully, "is it that again? But the Second Foundation was a more difficult job than the First. Its complexity is hugely greater; and consequently so is its possibility of error. And if the Second Foundation should not beat the Mule, it is bad ?ultimately bad. It is the end, may be, of the human race as we know it."

"No.

"Yes. If the Mule's descendants inherit his mental powers ?You see? Homo sapiens could not compete. There would be a new dominant race ?a new aristocracy ?with homo sapiens demoted to slave labor as an inferior race. Isn't that so?"

"Yes, that is so."

"And even if by some chance the Mule did not establish a dynasty, he would still establish a distorted new Empire upheld by his personal power only. It would die with his death; the Galaxy would be left where it was before he came, except that there would no longer be Foundations around which a real and healthy Second Empire could coalesce. It would mean thousands of years of barbarism. It would mean no end in sight."

"What can we do? Can we warn the Second Foundation?"

"We must, or they may go under through ignorance, which we can not risk. But there is no way of warning them."

"No way?"

"I don't know where they are located. They are 'at the other end of the Galaxy' but that is all, and there are millions of worlds to choose from."

"But, Ebling, don't they say?" She pointed vaguely at the films that covered the table.

"No, they don't. Not where I can find it ?yet. The secrecy must mean something. There must be a reason? A puzzled expression returned to his eyes. "But I wish you'd leave. I have wasted enough time, and it's growing short ?it's growing short."

He tore away, petulant and frowning.

Magnifico's soft step approached. "Your husband is home, my lady."

Ebling Mis did not greet the clown. He was back at his projector.

That evening Toran, having listened, spoke, "And you think he's really right, Bay? You think he isn't? He hesitated.

"He is right, Torie. He's sick, I know that. The change that's come over him, the loss in weight, the way he speaks ?he's sick. But as soon as the subject of the Mule or the Second Foundation, or anything he is working on, comes up, listen to him. He is lucid and clear as the sky of outer space. He knows what he's talking about. I believe him."

"Then there's hope." It was half a question.

"I ... I haven't worked it out. Maybe! Maybe not! I'm carrying a blaster from now on." The shiny-barreled weapon was in her hand as she spoke. "Just in case, Torie, just in case."

"In case what?"

Bayta laughed with a touch of hysteria, "Never mind. Maybe I'm a little crazy, too ?like Ebling Mis."

Ebling Mis at that time had seven days to live, and the seven days slipped by, one after the other, quietly.

To Toran, there was a quality of stupor about them. The warming days and the dull silence covered him with lethargy. All life seemed to have lost its quality of action, and changed into an infinite sea of hibernation.

Mis was a hidden entity whose burrowing work produced nothing and did not make itself known. He had barricaded himself. Neither Toran nor Bayta could see him. Only Magnifico's go-between characteristics were evidence of his existence. Magnifico, grown silent and thoughtful, with his tiptoed trays of food and his still, watchful witness in the gloom.

Bayta was more and more a creature of herself. The vivacity died, the self-assured competence wavered. She, too, sought her own worried, absorbed company, and once Toran bad come upon her, fingering her blaster. She had put it away quickly, forced a smile.

"What are you doing with it, Bay?"

"Holding it. Is that a crime?"

"You'll blow your fool head off."

"Then I'll blow it off. Small loss!"

Married life had taught Toran the futility of arguing with a female in a dark-brown mood. He shrugged, and left her.

On the last day, Magnifico scampered breathless into their presence. He clutched at them, frightened. "The learned doctor calls for you. He is not well."

And he wasn't well. He was in bed, his eyes unnaturally large, unnaturally bright. He was dirty, unrecognizable.

"Ebling!" cried Bayta.

"Let me speak," croaked the psychologist, lifting his weight to a thin elbow with an effort. "Let me speak. I am finished; the work I pass on to you. I have kept no notes; the scrap-figures I have destroyed. No other must know. All must remain in your minds."

"Magnifico," said Bayta, with rough directness. "Go upstairs!"

Reluctantly, the clown rose and took a backward step. His sad eyes were on Mis.

Mis gestured weakly, "He won't matter; let him stay. Stay, Magnifico."

The clown sat down quickly. Bayta gazed at the floor.

Slowly, slowly, her lower lip caught in her teeth.

Mis said, in a hoarse whisper, "I am convinced the Second Foundation can win, if it is not caught prematurely by the Mule. It has kept itself secret; the secrecy must be upheld; it has a purpose. You must go there; your information is vital ... may make all the difference. Do you hear me?"

Toran cried in near-agony, "Yes, yes! Tell us how to get there, Ebling? Where is it?"

"I can tell you," said the faint voice.

He never did.

Bayta, face frozen white, lifted her blaster and shot, with an echoing clap of noise. From the waist upward, Mis was not, and a ragged hole was in the wall behind. From numb fingers, Bayta's blaster dropped to the floor.
第二十五章 心理学家之死
　　普利吉来访的那一天，艾布林•米斯的生命只剩下最后两个星期。
而在这两个星期中，贝妲总共只跟他见过三次面。第一次是他们见到普利吉上校的当天晚上：第二次是一周之后；而第三次是再过一周之后——也就是米斯生命的最后一天。；　普利吉上校在傍晚匆匆来去之后，这对年轻夫妻由于惊恐过度，陷入了一片愁云惨雾。当天晚上，他们心情沉重地你一言我一语，前后讨论了一个钟头。
贝妲说：“杜，我们去跟艾布林讲这件事。”
杜伦有气无力地回答：“你想他又能帮什么忙？”
“现在只有我们两个知道，必须找人帮我们分担一点，也许他真的有办法。”
“他整个人都变了，身体越来越瘦，变得头重脚轻，还有一点失魂落魄。”杜伦的手指在半空中比划着，又说：“有些时候，我根本不相信他能再帮我们什么；有些时候，我甚至下相信有任何人能帮我们。”
“别这样！”贝妲的声音几乎走调，她及时打住，顿了一下再说：“杜，别这样！当你这么说的时候，我感到好像是骡已经控制住了我们。让我们去找艾布林，杜——现在就去！”
艾布林•米斯从长书桌上抬起头来，头上稀疏的白发已经掉得差不多了。他看着两个蒙胧的人影向自己慢慢接近，嘴里发出了一阵困倦而含糊的声音。
“啊？”他说：“什么人来找我吗？”
贝妲蹲下来轻声说：“我们吵醒你了？是不是要我们立刻走开？”
“走开？是谁？贝妲？不，不，留下来！不是还有椅子吗？我看见过……”他的手指胡乱指了指。
杜伦推过来两把椅子，贝妲坐下来，抓住米靳软弱无力的右手，对他说：“博士，我们可以和你谈谈吗？”她难得用上“博士”这个称谓。
“有什么不对劲吗？”米斯失神的眼睛稍微恢复了一点光采，松垮垮的两颊也重现一丝血色。他又重复了一次：“有什么不对劲吗？”
贝妲说：“普利吉上尉刚刚来过这里——让我来说，杜——你应该还记得普利吉上尉吧，博士？”
“记得——记得——”米斯用手指捏了一下嘴唇，然后又松开来，再说：“高个子，民主分子。”
“没错，就是他，他发现了骡的突变异能。刚才他来过这里，博士，他把一切都告诉了我们。”
“但是这已经不是什么秘密，有关骡的突变，我早就弄明白了。”他感到十分惊讶，问道：“我没有告诉过你们吗？难道我忘记告诉你们了吗？”
“忘记告诉我们什么？”杜伦立刻反问。
“当然就是关于骡的突变能力。他可以影响别人的情感，控制情感！我还没有告诉你们吗？是什么事让我忘记说的？”他慢慢咬着下唇，开始思索着答案。
然后，他的声音渐渐变得有力，眼睛也张大了，仿佛原本迟钝的头脑，终于滑进一个涂满润滑油的轨道。他瞪着对面两人之间的空隙，用梦呓般的口气说：“这其实很简单，根本不需要什么专业知识，在心理史学的数学架构中，只牵涉到了三阶方程式而已，当然能够立刻得出结果。不过别管那些数学，这个结果可以用普通的语言说明——大略地说明——而且能够解释得合情合理。在心理史学中，这种现象并不常见。”
“你们自己想想看——有什么能够推翻哈里•谢顿精密规划的历史，啊？”他露出了期望听到答案的表情，来回看着对面的两个人，然后又补充道：“谢顿曾经做过哪些假设？第一　，在未来的一千年间，人类社会没有任何基本上的变化。”
“比如说，如果银河中的科技产生了重大突破，例如发现了利用能源的新原理，或是电子神经生物学的研究完成了。这些结果所导致的社会变迁，将缓箢谢顿导出的方程式变得落伍。不过这些都没有发生，对下对？”
“此外还有其他的可能——假设基地以外的世界发明了一种新武器，足以与基地所有的武力相抗衡，这就可能导致不可挽救的偏差，虽然可能性并不太大。可是这种情况也没有出现，骡的核场抑制只是一种简陋的武器，并非无法对付。那是他使用的唯一一种新奇武器，而它却那么不灵光。”
“然而，谢顿还有第二个假设，一个更微妙的假设！那就是人类对于各种刺激的反应恒常不变。如果第一个假设至今仍旧成立的话，那么第二个假设一定已经垮台！一定是出现了什么因素，使得人类的情感反应扭曲变质，否则谢顿的预测不可能失败，基地也不可能被打垮。而这个因素除了骡之外，还可能有别的答案吗？”
“我说得对不对？我的推理有任何破绽吗？”
贝妲用咸腴的手轻轻拍着米斯，对他说：“没有破绽，艾布林。”
米斯像小孩子一样高兴，他又说：“这个结论，以及许多其他的结果，我都得来全不费功夫。我跟你们说，有些时候我会怀疑自己究竟起了什么变化。我似乎还记得过去那段日子，当时面对着那么多疑团，可是如今却通通一清二楚，难题全部消失了，不论我碰到任何疑问，在我的内心深处，不知怎地很快就能恍然大悟。而我的各种猜测、各种理论，好像都能够找到佐证。我内心有一股冲动……时时刻刻驱策我向前……所以我根本停不下来……我不想吃、不想睡……只想拼命继续研究……不断……继续……”他的声音越来越小。
米斯抬起颤抖的右手覆在额头，那只手臂看起来枯瘦憔悴，上面一条条殷蓝色的静脉清晰可见。他刚才露出的狂热眼神，已经在不知不觉间消逝无踪。
接着，他又以较为平稳的声音说：“这么说的话，我从来没有告诉你们有关骡的突变能力，对不对？可是……你们是不是说已经知道了？”
“是普利吉上尉告诉我们的。”贝妲回答道：“艾布林，你还记得吗？”
“他告诉你们的？”他的语调中透出了愤怒：“可是他又是如何发现的？”
“他已经被骡制约了，成了骡的部下，如今是一名上校。他来找我们，是想劝我们向骡投降，并且对我们说了你刚才说的那些。”
“那么骡知道我们在这里？我得赶快加紧行动——马巨擘在哪里？他没有跟你们在一起吗？”
“马巨擘正在睡觉，”杜伦有些不耐烦地说：“你难道不知道，现在已经过了午夜？”
“是吗？那么——你们进来的时候，我是不是睡着了？”
“你的确是睡着了，”贝妲以坚决的口气说：“你现在也不准再继续工作，你应该上床休息——来，杜，帮我一下——你不要再推我，艾布林，我没有推你去淋浴，已经算是你的运气——把他的鞋子脱掉，杜，明天你再下来，趁着他还没有完全垮掉，把他拖到外面去呼吸呼吸新鲜空气——你看看你，艾布林，身上都要长蜘蛛网了，你饿不饿？”
米斯摇摇头，从吊床中抬起头来，看来又气恼又茫然。他喃喃地说：“我要你们明天叫马巨擘下来这里。”
贝妲将被单拉到他的脖子周围，对他说：“是我明天会来这里，我会带着换洗的衣物来。你需要好好洗个澡，然后出去走一走，到附近的农场散散步，晒一点太阳。”
“我下要，”米斯以虚弱的口气说：“你听到我的话了没？我实在太忙了。”
米斯稀疏的银发铺散在枕头上，奸像是一圈银色的光环。他又以充满自信的语气，小声地说：“你们希望找到第二基地，对不对？”
杜伦听到这句话，突然转过身，在吊床旁边蹲下来，问道：“第二基地怎么样，艾布林？”
心理学家从被单下伸出一只手来，用孱弱的手指抓住杜伦的袖子，说：“建立这两个基地的计划，是哈里•谢顿主持的一个心理学大会中的议题。杜伦，我已经找到了那个大会的正式会议纪录，总共二十五卷又粗又大的胶卷，我也已经看过了各个摘要的内容。”
“结果呢？”
“结果呢，你可知道，只要你对心理史学稍有涉猎，就很容易从中发现第一基地的正确位置。当你看懂了那些方程式之后，便能发现它出现过许多次。可是，杜伦，根本没有任何人提到过第二基地，纪录中没有任何只字片语。”
杜伦皱起了眉头，又问：“所以它不存在？”
“它当然存在，”米斯怒声道：“谁说它不存在？只不过他们尽量不提。它的使命——以及有关于它的一切——都比第一基地更隐密，也隐藏得更好。你难道看不出来吗？第二基地比第一基地更为重要，它才是谢顿计划真正的关键、真正的主角！而我已经得到了谢顿大会的纪录，骡还没有赢……”
贝妲轻轻将灯关掉，说了一声：“睡觉吧！”
杜伦与贝妲没有再说一句话，便走回他们自己的房间。
第二天早上，艾布林•米斯洗了一个澡，穿好衣服走出来。这是他最后一次见到川陀的太阳，也是最后一次感受到自然的微风。当天晚上，他再度钻进图书馆中那个巨大幽深的角落，从此再也没有出来过。
往后的一个星期，生活又恢复了常轨。在川陀的夜空中，新川陀的太阳是一个静寂、明后的恒星。农场正在忙着春耕，大学校园仍然保持着遗世独立的静谧。银河仿佛是一片空虚，骡好像从来未曾存在过——贝妲目不转睛地望苦杜伦，心中这么想着。
杜伦一面仔细点燃雪茄，一面抬起头来，透过地平线上无数金属尖塔间的隙缝，盯着被分割得支离破碎的蓝天。
“今天的天气真好。”他说。
“是的，没错。杜，我说要买的东西，你都写下来了吗？”
“当然——半磅奶油、一打鸡蛋、四季豆……我全都记下来了。放心吧，贝，我会买齐的。”
“很好，要确定蔬菜都是刚采下来的，可不要买陈年旧货喔。对了，你有没有看到马巨擘在哪里？”
“吃过早餐就没看到了。我猜他又去找艾布林，陪他一块看书报胶卷。”
“好吧，别浪费时间，我需要那些鸡蛋做晚餐。”
杜伦一面走开，一面回过头来笑了笑，同时还挥了挥手。
当杜伦的身影消失在金属迷宫之后，贝妲立刻转身向后走。她在厨房门口稍微犹豫了一下，又缓缓向后转，朝柱廊的方向走去，然后进入柱廊尽头的电梯，来到了位于地底深处那个幽深的角落。
艾布林•米斯仍然待在那里，他低着头，眼睛对着投影机的接目镜，全身僵凝一动下动，全神贯洼地在研究。而在他身旁，马巨擘蜷缩在一张椅子上，瞪着一双目光炯炯的大眼睛——他现在的这种姿势，看起来就像是一团胡乱堆起的石柱，再插上一根长长的大鼻子。
贝妲轻轻叫了一声：“马巨擘——”
马巨擘立刻爬起身来，小声回答：“我亲爱的女士！”他的声音听来很热情。
“马巨擘，”贝姐说：“杜伦到农场去了，要好一阵子才会回来，你能不能做个好孩子，帮我带个信给他？我马上就可以写。”
“乐于效劳，我亲爱的女士。只要我能派得上一点小用场，随时随地乐意为您效棉薄之力。”
当马巨擘离开之后，就只剩下贝妲与艾布林•米斯两个人。米斯仍木然维持着原来的姿势，贝妲伸出手来用力按在他肩头，叫道：“艾布林——”
心理学家吃了一惊，气急败坏地吼道：“怎么回事？”
然后他抬起头，眯起眼睛来看了看，又说：“贝妲，是你吗？马巨擘到哪里去了？”
“我把他支开了，我想和你独处一会儿。”她故意一字一顿地强调：“我要和你谈谈，艾布林。”
心理学家正准备要低下头来看投影机，肩膀却被贝妲紧紧抓住。自从他们来到川陀之后，米斯身上的筋肉似乎一寸寸地消失，贝妲可以清楚摸到他衣服下面的骨头。如今他的面容瘦削，脸色枯黄，好几天没有刮胡子，甚至在坐着的时候，肩头也明显的伛偻。
贝妲说：“马巨擘没有打扰你吧？有没有，艾布林？他好像一天到晚都待在这里。”
“不，不，不！完全没有。哎呀，我不介意他在这里。他很安静，从来不会烦我。有时候他还会帮我搬胶卷，好像我还没有开口，他就知道我要找什么——你就别管他吧。”
“很好——不过，艾布林，他难道不会让你感觉奇怪吗？你听到我的话没有，艾布林？他难道不会让你感觉奇怪吗？”
她把一张椅子拉到他旁边，坐下来瞪着他，似乎想从他的眼睛里看出答案。
艾布林•米斯摇摇头：“没有，你这话是什么意思？”
“我的意思是说，普利吉上校和你都说骡能够制约人类的情感，可是你能肯定这一点吗？马巨擘本身不就是这个理论的反证？”
两人维持了好一阵子的沉默。
贝妲真想使劲摇蔽他的肩膀，不过最后总算忍住了。她又开口道：“艾布林，你到底是哪里不对劲？马巨擘是骡的小丑，他为什么没有被制约，没有对骡充满敬爱和信心？为什么那么多和骡接触过的人当中，只有他会憎恨骡，而且恨得那么刻骨铭心？”
“可是……可是他也被制约了。我可以肯定，贝！”当米斯开口之后，似乎再度恢复了自信，他继续说：“你以为骡对待他的小丑，需要像对待他的将军们一样吗？他需要将军们对他产生信心和忠心，但是小丑心中只需要充满畏惧就行了。马巨擘经常性的惊恐是一种病态，你难道没有注意到吗？你认为一个心理正常的人，可能会永远表现得那么害怕吗？人的恐惧到了这种程度，本身就是一件滑稽可笑的事隋，骡可能就喜欢这种滑稽的反应。而且，这点也是对他有利的，因为我们早无从马巨擘那里得知的事情，其实不能肯定哪些对我们真正有帮助。”
贝妲说：“你的意思是说，马巨擘提供的有关于骡的情报，根本就是假的？”
“至少是一种误导的结论，全部经过他病态的恐惧渲染。骡并不是像马巨擘所想像的，是一个魁梧壮硕的巨人，他除了有超人的精神力量之外，很可能其他方面都与常人无异。但是，也许他喜欢让可怜的马巨擘以为他是超人……”心理学家耸耸肩，又说：“总之，马巨擘的情报不再有什么重要性。”
“那么，什么才是重要的呢？”
米斯却没有回答，他甩开了贝妲的手，重新低下头来对着投影机。
“那什么才是重要的呢？”她又重复问道：“第二基地吗？”
心理学家突然又抬起头来，瞪着她说：“我对你这么说过吗？我不记得对你说过任何事情，我还没有准备好。我究竟对你说过什么？”
“什么都没有。”贝妲激动地说：“噢，老天，你什么都没有告诉过我，但是我希望你能说，因为我已经快要烦死了，这一切要到什么时候才会结束？”
艾布林•米斯凝视着她，带着几丝爱怜的口气说道：“好吧，我……我亲爱的孩子，我下是有意要让你伤心。有些时候，我会忘记……谁才是我的朋友。有些时候，我似乎感觉到自己一句话都不能透露，我必须要守口如瓶——不过这是为了防范骡，而不是防你，我亲爱的孩子。”说完他轻拍着她的肩膀，表现出了一点和蔼可亲的态度。
贝妲继续追问：“到底有没有第二基地的线索？”
米斯自然而然地压低了声音，向贝妲耳语道：“你知道谢顿掩盖线索的工作，做得有多彻底吗？我花了一个月的时间研究谢顿大会的纪录，可是在那个奇异的灵感出现之前，根本一点进展也没有。即使现在，似乎还是……很不清楚。在大会发表的那些论文，大多数都显然毫不相关，而且全部晦涩难解。我曾经不只一次地怀疑，那些出席大会的学者，他们自己是否真正了解谢顿的想法。有时我会想，也许谢顿只是利用这个大会作幌子，实际上却独力建立了……”
“两个基地？”贝妲追问。
“第二基地！我们的基地其实相当单纯，可是第二基地始终只是一个名字，只偶尔会被提到一两次。如果真有什么苦心孤诣的结晶，一定深藏在数学结构里面。有很多细节我还完全不懂，但是在过去七天之内，我终于将零星的线索拼凑起来，拼出了一个大概的图象。”
“基地第一号是自然科学家的世界，它将银河中濒临失传的科学集中起来，而它所具备的各种条件，则可以确保这些科学的复兴。然而唯独心理学家没有包括在内，这是一个特殊的例外，所以一定有某种目的。一般的解释是，谢顿的心理吏学必须在它的研究对象——人类群体——对于将会发生的事件完全不知情，对于各种情况的反应都是自然而然的前提下，心理史学的威力才能发挥到极致。你听得懂吗？我亲爱的孩子……”
“我听得懂，博士。”
“那么你再仔细听好——基地第二号则是属于心灵科学家的世界，它是我们那个世界的镜象。在那里的主流科学不是物理学，而是心理学。”然后他以得意的语气说：“懂了吗？”
“我不懂。”
“想想看，贝妲，用你的脑袋想想看。哈里•谢顿了解他的心理史学只能预测机率，无法百分之百确定任何事情。凡事都会有失误的机率，而随着时光的流逝，失误的机率会以几何数列的方式增加，谢顿自然会竭尽所能补救这个缺失。在我们所处的基地上，科学蓬勃地发展，让我们得以打败敌人的武器，征服敌人的军队，也就是说以有形的力量对抗有形的力量。可是一旦遇到像骡这样使用精神力量的突变种时，我们又有什么办法？”
“那就得由第二基地的心理学家出马了！”贝妲感到精神鼓舞了起来。
“没错，没错，没错！当然就是这样！”
“可是直到目前为止，他们什么都还没有做呢。”
“你又怎么知道他们什么都没有做？”
贝妲想了一下，回答道：“我不知道，你发现了任何证据，能够证明他们有所行动吗？”
“不，还有很多很多我不知道的因素。第二基地现在还不可能羽翼丰满，顶多只发展到和我们相当的程度。我们一直慢慢地发展，实力一天比一天茁壮，他们的情形也一定如此。天晓得他们如今的实力究竟如何——他们已经强到足以对付骡了吗？最重要的是，他们了解其中的危险性吗？他们有没有精明能干的领导者？”
“但是只要他们遵循谢顿计划发展，那么骡就必定会被第二基地打败。”
“啊——”艾布林•米斯瘦削的脸庞皱了起来，一副若有所思的样子。然后他又说：“又来啦？可是第二基地的处境比第一基地更为艰难。它的复杂度比我们大得太多，可能产生失误的机率也因此成正比。如果连第二基地都无法击败骡，那可就糟糕了——简直是糟糕得令人绝望，这也许会导致人类文明的终结。”
“不可能。”
“可能的，如果骡的后代也遗传到了他的精神力量——你明白了吗？‘现代智人’是无法与他们抗衡的。银河中会出现一种新的强势族群、一种新的贵族，‘现代智人’将被贬成次等生物，只配做那些人的奴隶。你说对不对？”
“没错，真的会变成那样。”
“即使由于某种因素，使得骡无法建立一个万世一系的皇朝，他仍然可以靠他自己的力量，建立一个新的、畸形的银河帝国。而当他逝去之后，这个帝国也将随之灰飞烟灭，银河又将恢复到他出现之前的局势。唯一不同的，是两个基地都将不复存在，使得那个崭新的、良善的‘第二帝国’胎死腹中。这就代表了数千年的蛮荒状态，代表人类的未来看不见任何希望。”
“那么我们能做些什么？我们能够警告第二基地吗？”
“我们必须警告他们，否则他们可能一直不知情，最后终于被骡消灭，我们绝对不能让这种事情发生——问题是我们没有办法进行。”
“没有办法吗？”
“我不知道他们在哪里，据说他们在‘银河的另一端’，但是除此之外再也没有别的线索。所以说，好几百万个世界都有可能是第二基地。”
“可是，艾布林，它们难道没有提到吗？”她随手指了指铺满桌面的一大堆胶卷。
“没有，没有提到，我完全都找不到——至少还没找到。他们藏得那么隐密，一定有什么重大的意义，一定有什么原因……”他又露出了迷惑的眼神：“希望你能马上离开，我已经浪费了太多时间，所剩无几——所剩无几了。”
说完他就掉头走开，皱着眉头，露出一脸不高兴的表情。
此时马巨擘轻轻地走进来，对贝妲说：“我亲爱的女士，您的丈夫回来了。”
艾布林•米斯并没有跟小丑打招呼，他已经开始在看投影机了。
当天傍晚，杜伦听完了贝妲的转述之后，对贝妲说：“听你这么说，你认为他说的都是对的，贝？你并不认为他……”他犹豫地住了口。
“他说的都对，杜。他生病了，这点我知道，他的那些变化——人瘦了好多，说话也跟以前很不一样——都代表他的确生病了。但是当他提到骡、第二基地，或者跟他现在的工作有关的话题时，请你还是相信他。他的思想仍然和外太空一样澄澈透明，他知道自己说的是什么，我相信他的话。”
“那么我们还有希望——”这句话有一半是疑问句。
“我……我还没有想清楚。可能有！可能没有！从现在起，我要随身带一把手铳。”她一面说话，一面举起手中那柄闪闪发光的武器，又说：“只是以防万一，杜，只是以防万一。”
“以防什么样的万一？”
贝妲笑得近乎歇斯底里：“你别管了，也许我也有点疯了——就像艾布林•米斯一样。”
艾布林•米斯那时还有七天好活，这些日子无声无息地一天接着一天溜走。
杜伦感到这些日子过得恍恍惚惚，暖和的天气与无聊的静寂使他昏昏欲睡。彷佛周遭的一切都失去生机，进入了永恒的冬眠状态。
米斯仍然躲在地底深处，他的工作似乎没有任何成绩，也不对别人做任何宣布。他索性将自己完全封闭，连杜伦与贝妲都见不到他，只有居中跑腿的马巨擘，是米斯依然存在的间接证据。马巨擘现在变得沉默寡言、心事重重，他每天定时蹑手蹑脚地将食物送进去，然后在幽暗中瞪大眼睛，一动不动地看着书斯工作。
贝妲则越来越孤僻，原本的活泼开朗消失了，从来不缺的自信心也开始动摇。她也常常一个人躲起来，怔怔地想着自己的心事。杜伦有一次发现她正默默地轻抚着手中的武器，而她一看到杜伦，就赶紧将手铳藏起来，然后勉强挤出一个笑容。
“贝，你抱着那玩意做什么？”
“就是抱着，难道犯法吗？”
“你会把你的笨头轰得一点也不剩。”
“那就轰掉好了，反正没有什么损失！”
杜伦从婚姻生活中学到了一件事，那就是跟心情欠佳的女性争辩，一定白费力气。于是他耸耸肩，没有再说一句话，便迳自走了开。
最后那一天——
马巨擘突然上气下接下气地跑过来，双手紧紧抓住杜伦与贝妲，脸上露出惊恐的神色，对他们两人急促地说：“老博士请您们去一趟，他的情形不太妙。”
他的情形果然不太妙。他躺在床上，身上脏得不像样，眼睛异乎寻常地睁得老大，异乎寻常地射出诡异的光芒，简直让人认不出来他是谁。
“艾布林！”贝妲大叫。
“听我说几句话——”心理学家以阴惨的声音说，然后用枯瘦的手肘使劲撑起身子。
“听我说几句话，我已经不行了，我要将工作传给你们。我没有做任何笔记，零星的计算也全销毁了。不可以让别人知道，所有的一切都要装在你们脑子里。”
“马巨擘，”贝坦毫不客气地直接对他说：“到楼上去！”
于是小丑心不甘、情不愿地站起身来，一步步倒退着走出去，眼光始终停留在米斯身上。
米斯无力地挥挥手：“他没有关系，让他留下来——别走，马巨擘。”小丑立刻又坐下来。
贝妲双眼紧盯着地板，脸色变得越来越苍白。慢慢地，慢慢地，她的牙齿咬住了下唇。
米斯用嘶哑的声音细声说：“我已经确信第二基地能够胜利，只要它在时机未成熟之前不被骡找到。它隐藏得很秘密，而它也必须如此，这一点有重大意义。你们必须到那里去，你们带去的消息极为重要……会使一切改变。你们听得懂我的话吗？”
杜伦用尽最大的力气吼道：“懂，懂！告诉我们怎么到那里去，艾布林，它在哪里？”
“我现在就可以告诉你们——”他用奄奄一息的声音说。
不过他却没有说出来。
脸色煞白的贝妲突然举起手铳，立刻发射，激起一阵轰然巨响。米斯的上半身完全消失，一个大窟窿出现在后面的墙壁上。
从贝妲麻木的手指间，手铳滑落到了地板上。
26. END OF THE SEARCH
There was not a word to be said. The echoes of the blast rolled away into the outer rooms and rumbled downward into a hoarse, dying whisper. Before its death, it had muffled the sharp clamor of Bayta's falling blaster, smothered Magnifico's high-pitched cry, drowned out Toran's inarticulate roar.

There was a silence of agony.

Bayta's head was bent into obscurity. A droplet caught the light as it fell. Bayta had never wept since her childhood.

Toran's muscles almost cracked in their spasm, but he did not relax ?he felt as if he would never unclench his teeth again. Magnifico's face was a faded, lifeless mask.

Finally, from between teeth still tight, Toran choked out in an unrecognizable voice, "You're a Mule's woman, then. He got to you!"

Bayta looked up, and her mouth twisted with a painful merriment, "I, a Mule's woman? That's ironic."

She smiled ?a brittle effort ?and tossed her hair back. Slowly, her voice verged back to the normal, or something near it. "It's over, Toran; I can talk now. How much I will survive, I don't know. But I can start talking?

Toran's tension had broken of its own weight and faded into a flaccid dullness, "Talk about what, Bay? What's there to talk about?"

"About the calamity that's followed us. We've remarked about it before, Torie. Don't you remember? How defeat has always bitten at our heels and never actually managed to nip us? We were on the Foundation, and it collapsed while the Independent Traders still fought ?but we got out in time to go to Haven. We were on Haven, and it collapsed while the others still fought ?and again we got out in time. We went to Neotrantor, and by now it's undoubtedly joined the Mule."

Toran listened and shook his head, "I don't understand."

"Torie, such things don't happen in real life. You and I are insignificant people; we don't fall from one vortex of politics into another continuously for the space of a year ?unless we carry the vortex with us. Unless we carry the source of infection with us! Now do you see?"

Toran's lips tightened. His glance fixed horribly upon the bloody remnants of what had once been a human, and his eyes sickened.

"Let's get out of here, Bay. Let's get out into the open."

It was cloudy outside. The wind scudded about them in drab spurts and disordered Bayta's hair. Magnifico had crept after them and now he hovered at the edge of their conversation.

Toran said tightly, "You killed Ebling Mis because you believed him to be the focus of infection?" Something in her eyes struck him. He whispered, "He was the Mule?" He did not ?could not ?believe the implications of his own words.

Bayta laughed sharply, "Poor Ebling the Mule? Galaxy, no! I couldn't have killed him if he were the Mule. He would have detected the emotion accompanying the move and changed it for me to love, devotion, adoration, terror, whatever he pleased. No, I killed Ebling because he was not the Mule. I killed him because he knew where the Second Foundation was, and in two seconds would have told the Mule the secret."

"Would have told the Mule the secret," Toran repeated stupidly. "Told the Mule?

And then he emitted a sharp cry, and turned to stare in horror at the clown, who might have been crouching unconscious there for the apparent understanding he had of what he heard.

"Not Magnifico?" Toran whispered the question.

"Listen!" said Bayta. "Do you remember what happened on Neotrantor? Oh, think for yourself, Torie?

But he shook his head and mumbled at her.

She went on, wearily, "A man died on Neotrantor. A man died with no one touching him. Isn't that true? Magnifico played on his Visi-Sonor and when he was finished, the crown prince was dead. Now isn't that strange? Isn't it queer that a creature afraid of everything, apparently helpless with terror, has the capacity to kill at will."

"The music and the light-effects," said Toran, "have a profound emotional effect?

"Yes, an emotional effect. A pretty big one. Emotional effects happen to be the Mule's specialty. That, I suppose, can be considered a coincidence. And a creature who can kill by suggestion is so full of fright. Well, the Mule tampered with his mind, supposedly, so that can be explained. But, Toran, I caught a little of that Visi-Sonor selection that killed the crown prince. Just a little ?but it was enough to give me that same feeling of despair I had in the Time Vault and on Haven. Toran, I can't mistake that particular feeling."

Toran's face was darkening. "I ... felt it, too. I forgot. I never thought?

"It was then that it first occurred to me. It was just a vague feeling ?intuition, if you like. I had nothing to go on. And then Pritcher told us of the Mule and his mutation, and it was clear in a moment. It was the Mule who had created the despair in the Time Vault; it was Magnifico who had created the despair on Neotrantor. It was the same emotion. Therefore, the Mule and Magnifico were the same person. Doesn't it work out nicely, Torie? Isn't it just like an axiom in geometry ?things equal to the same thing are equal to each other?"

She was at the edge of hysteria, but dragged herself back to sobriety by main force. She continued, "The discovery scared me to death. If Magnifico were the Mule, he could know my emotions ?and cure them for his own purposes. I dared not let him know. I avoided him. Luckily, he avoided me also; he was too interested in Ebling Mis. I planned killing Mis before he could talk. I planned it secretly ?as secretly as I could ?so secretly I didn't dare tell it to myself.

"If I could have killed the Mule himself ?But I couldn't take the chance. He would have noticed, and I would have lost everything."

She seemed drained of emotion.

Toran said harshly and with finality, "It's impossible. Look at the miserable creature. He the Mule? He doesn't even hear what we're saying."

But when his eyes followed his pointing finger, Magnifico was erect and alert, his eyes sharp and darkly bright. His voice was without a trace of an accent, "I hear her, my friend. It is merely that I have been sitting here and brooding on the fact that with all my cleverness and forethought I could make a mistake, and lose so much."

Toran stumbled backward as if afraid the clown might touch him or that his breath might contaminate him.

Magnifico nodded, and answered the unspoken question. "I am the Mule."

He seemed no longer a grotesque; his pipestem limbs, his beak of a nose lost their humor-compelling qualities. His fear was gone; his bearing was firm.

He was in command of the situation with an ease born of usage.

He said, tolerantly, "Seat yourselves. Go ahead; you might as well sprawl out and make yourselves comfortable. The game's over, and I'd like to tell you a story. It's a weakness of mine ?I want people to understand me."

And his eyes as he looked at Bayta were still the old, soft sad brown ones of Magnifico, the clown.

"There is nothing really to my childhood," he began, plunging bodily into quick, impatient speech, "that I care to remember. Perhaps you can understand that. My meagerness is glandular; my nose I was born with. It was not possible for me to lead a normal childhood. My mother died before she saw me. I do not know my father. I grew up haphazard, wounded and tortured in mind, full of self-pity and hatred of others. I was known then as a queer child. All avoided me; most out of dislike; some out of fear. Queer incidents occurred ?Well, never mind! Enough happened to enable Captain Pritcher, in his investigation of my childhood to realize that I was a mutant, which was more than I ever realized until I was in my twenties."

Toran and Bayta listened distantly. The wash of his voice broke over them, seated on the ground as they were, unheeded almost. The clown ?or the Mule ?paced before them with little steps, speaking downward to his own folded arms.

"The whole notion of my unusual power seems to have broken on me so slowly, in such sluggish steps. Even toward the end, I couldn't believe it. To me, men's minds are dials, with pointers that indicate the prevailing emotion. It is a poor picture, but how else can I explain it? Slowly, I learned that I could reach into those minds and turn the pointer to the spot I wished, that I could nail it there forever. And then it took even longer to realize that others couldn't.

"But the consciousness of power came, and with it, the desire to make up for the miserable position of my earlier life. Maybe you can understand it. Maybe you can try to understand it. It isn't easy to be a freak ?to have a mind and an understanding and be a freak. Laughter and cruelty! To be different! To be an outsider!

"You've never been through it!"

Magnifico looked up to the sky and teetered on the balls of his feet and reminisced stonily, "But I eventually did learn, and I decided that the Galaxy and I could take turns. Come, they had     their innings, and I had been patient about it ?for twenty-two years. My turn! It would be up to the rest of you to take it! And the odds would be fair enough for the Galaxy. One of me! Quadrillions of them!"

He paused to glance at Bayta swiftly. "But I had a weakness. I was nothing in myself. If I could gain power, it could only be by means of others. Success came to me through middlemen. Always! It was as Pritcher said. Through a pirate, I obtained my first asteroidal base of operations. Through an industrialist I got my first foothold on a planet. Through a variety of others ending with the warlord of Kalgan, I won Kalgan itself and got a navy. After that, it was the Foundation ?and you two come into the story.

"The Foundation," he said, softly, "was the most difficult task I had met. To beat it, I would have to win over, break down, or render useless an extraordinary proportion of its ruling class. I could have done it from scratch ?but a short cut was possible, and I looked for it. After all, if a strong man can lift five hundred pounds, it does not mean that he is eager to do so continuously. My emotional control is not an easy task, I prefer not to use it, where not fully necessary. So I accepted allies in my first attack upon the Foundation.

"As my clown, I looked for the agent, or agents, of the Foundation that must inevitably have been sent to Kalgan to investigate my humble self. I know now it was Han Pritcher I was looking for. By a stroke of fortune, I found you instead. I am a telepath, but not a complete one, and, my lady, you were from the Foundation. I was led astray by that. It was not fatal for Pritcher joined us afterward, but it was the starting point of an error that was fatal."

Toran stirred for the first time. He spoke in an outraged tone, "Hold on, now. You mean that when I outfaced that lieutenant on Kalgan with only a stun pistol, and rescued you ?that you had emotionally-controlled me into it." He was spluttering. "You mean I've been tampered with all along."

A thin smile played on Magnifico's face. "Why not? You don't think it's likely? Ask yourself then ?Would you have risked death for a strange grotesque you had never seen before, if you had been in your right mind? I imagine you were surprised at events in cold after-blood."

"Yes," said Bayta, distantly, "he was. It's quite plain."

"As it was," continued the Mule, "Toran was in no danger. The lieutenant had his own strict instructions to let us go. So the three of us and Pritcher went to the Foundation ?and see how my campaign shaped itself instantly. When Pritcher was court-martialed and we were present, I was busy. The military judges of that trial later commanded their squadrons in the war. They surrendered rather easily, and my Navy won the battle of Horleggor, and other lesser affairs.

"Through Pritcher, I met Dr. Mis, who brought me a Visi-Sonor, entirely of his own accord, and simplified my task immensely. Only it wasn't entirely of his own accord."

Bayta interrupted, "Those concerts! I've been trying to fit them in. Now I see."

"Yes," said Magnifico, "the Visi-Sonor acts as a focusing device. In a way, it is a primitive device for emotional control in itself. With it, I can handle people in quantity and single people more intensively. The concerts I gave on Terminus before it fell and Haven before it fell contributed to the general defeatism. I might have made the crown prince of Neotrantor very sick without the Visi-Sonor, but I could not have killed him. You see?

"But it was Ebling Mis who was my most important find. He might have been? Magnifico said it with chagrin, then hurried on, "There is a special facet to emotional control you do not know about. Intuition or insight or hunch-tendency, whatever you wish to call it, can be treated as an emotion. At least, I can treat it so. You don't understand it, do you?"

He waited for no negative, "The human mind works at low efficiency. Twenty percent is the figure usually given. When, momentarily, there is a flash of greater power it is termed a hunch, or insight, or intuition. I found early that I could induce a continual use of high brain-efficiency. It is a killing process for the person affected, but it is useful. The nuclear field-depressor which I used in the war against the Foundation was the result of high-pressuring a Kalgan technician. Again I work through others.

"Ebling Mis was the bull's-eye. His potentialities were high, and I needed him. Even before my war with the Foundation had opened, I had already sent delegates to negotiate with the Empire. It was at that time I began my search for the Second Foundation. Naturally, I didn't find it. Naturally, I knew that I must find it ?and Ebling Mis was the answer. With his mind at high efficiency, he might possibly have duplicated the work of Hari Seldon.

"Partly, he did. I drove him to the utter limit. The process was ruthless, but had to be completed. He was dying at the end, but he lived? Again, his chagrin interrupted him. "He would have lived long enough. Together, we three could have gone onward to the Second Foundation. It would have been the last battle ?but for my mistake."

Toran stirred his voice to hardness, "Why do you stretch it out so? What was your mistake, and ... and have done with your speech."

"Why, your wife was the mistake. Your wife was an unusual person. I had never met her like before in my life. I ... I? Quite suddenly, Magnifico's voice broke. He recovered with difficulty. There was a grimness about him as he continued. "She liked me without my having to juggle her emotions. She was neither repelled by me nor amused by me. She liked me!

"Don't you understand? Can't you see what that would mean to me? Never before had anyone ?Well, I ... cherished that. My own emotions played me false, though I was master of all others. I stayed out of her mind, you see; I did not tamper with it. I cherished the natural feeling too greatly. It was my mistake ?the first.

"You, Toran, were under control. You never suspected me; never questioned me; never saw anything peculiar or strange about me. As for instance, when the 'Filian' ship stopped us. They knew our location, by the way, because I was in communication with them, as I've remained in communication with my generals at all times. When they stopped us, I was taken aboard to adjust Han Pritcher, who was on it as a prisoner. When I left, he was a colonel, a Mule's man, and in command. The whole procedure was too open even for you, Toran. Yet you accepted my explanation of the matter, which was full of fallacies. See what I mean?"

Toran grimaced, and challenged him, "How did you retain communications with your generals?" 

"There was no difficulty to it. Hyperwave transmitters are easy to handle and eminently portable. Nor could I be detected in a real sense! Anyone who did catch me in the act would leave me with a slice gapped out of his memory. It happened, on occasion.

"On Neotrantor, my own foolish emotions betrayed me again. Bayta was not under my control, but even so might never have suspected me if I had kept my head about the crown prince. His intentions towards Bayta ?annoyed me.

"I killed him. It was a foolish gesture. An unobtrusive flight would have served as well.

"And still your suspicions would not have been certainties, if I had stopped Pritcher in his well-intentioned babbling, or paid less attention to Mis and more to you? He shrugged.

"That's the end of it?" asked Bayta.

"That's the end."

"What now, then?"

"I'll continue with my program. That I'll find another as adequately brained and trained as Ebling Mis in these degenerate days, I doubt. I shall have to search for the Second Foundation otherwise. In a sense you have defeated me."

And now Bayta was upon her feet, triumphant. "In a sense? Only in a sense? We have defeated you entirely! All your victories outside the Foundation count for nothing, since the Galaxy is a barbarian vacuum now. The Foundation itself is only a minor victory, since it wasn't meant to stop your variety of crisis. It's the Second Foundation you must beat ?the Second Foundation ?and it's the Second Foundation that will defeat you. Your only chance was to locate it and strike it before it was prepared. You won't do that now. Every minute from now on, they will be readier for you. At this moment, at this moment, the machinery may have started. You'll know ?when it strikes you, and your short term of power will be over, and you'll be just another strutting conqueror, flashing quickly and meanly across the bloody face of history."

She was breathing hard, nearly gasping in her vehemence, "And we've defeated you, Toran and I. I am satisfied to die."

But the Mule's sad, brown eyes were the sad, brown, loving eyes of Magnifico. "I won't kill you or your husband. It is, after all, impossible for you two to hurt me further; and killing you won't bring back Ebling Mis. My mistakes were my own, and I take responsibility for them. Your husband and yourself may leave! Go in peace, for the sake of what I call ?friendship."

Then, with a sudden touch of pride, "And meanwhile I am still the Mule, the most powerful man in the Galaxy. I shall still defeat the Second Foundation."

And Bayta shot her last arrow with a firm, calm certitude, "You won't! I have faith in the wisdom of Seldon yet. You shall be the last ruler of your dynasty, as well as the first."

Something caught Magnifico. "Of my dynasty? Yes, I had thought of that, often. That I might establish a dynasty. That I might have a suitable consort."

Bayta suddenly caught the meaning of the look in his eyes and froze horribly.

Magnifico shook his head. "I sense your revulsion, but that's silly. If things were otherwise, I could make you happy very easily. It would be an artificial ecstasy, but there would be no difference between it and the genuine emotion. But things are not otherwise. I call myself the Mule ?but not because of my strength ?obviously?

He left them, never looking back.




ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Isaac Asimov was born in the Soviet union to his great surprise. He moved quickly to correct the situation. When his parents emigrated to the United States, Isaac (three years old at the time) stowed away in their baggage. He has been an American citizen since the age of eight.

Brought up in Brooklyn, and educated in its public schools, he eventually found his way to Columbia University and, over the protests of the school administration, managed to annex a series of degrees in chemistry, up to and including a Ph.D. He then infiltrated Boston University and climbed the academic ladder, ignoring all cries of outrage, until he found himself Professor of Biochemistry.

Meanwhile, at the age of nine, he found the love of his life (in the inanimate sense) when he discovered his first science-fiction magazine. By the time he was eleven, he began to write stories, and at eighteen, he actually worked up the nerve to submit one. It was rejected. After four long months of tribulation and suffering, he sold his first story and, thereafter, he never looked back.

In 1941, when he was twenty-one years old, he wrote the classic short story "Nightfall" and his future was assured. Shortly before that he had begun writing his robot stories, and shortly after that he had begun his Foundation series. 


What was left except quantity? At the present time, he has published over 260 books, distributed through every major division of the Dewey system of library classification, and shows no signs of slowing up. He remains as youthful, as lively, and as lovable as ever, and grows more handsome with each year. You can be sure that this is so since he has written this little essay himself and his devotion to absolute objectivity is notorious.

He is married to Janet Jeppson, psychiatrist and writer, has two children by a previous marriage, and lives in New York City. 

The End
第二十六章 寻找结束
　　没有一个人说任何一句话。轰击的回声一波波传到其他各个房间，渐渐变成越来越小而模糊不清的隆隆声。不过在回声完全消逝之前，还来得及掩盖贝坦的手铳掉落地板的声响，压制住马巨擘高亢的惨叫，并且淹没了杜伦含糊的怒吼。
接着，是好一阵子凝重的死寂。
贝妲的头低垂下来，灯光照不到她的脸，却将一滴落下的泪珠映得闪闪生辉。自从长大之后，贝妲记得自己从来没有哭过。
杜伦的肌肉拼命地抽搐，几乎就要爆裂开来，可是他仍旧没有放松的意思——他感到自己咬紧的牙齿好像永远不能再松开。而马巨擘的脸庞则变成一片死灰，像是一副毫无生气的假面具。
杜伦终于从紧咬着的牙关中，硬挤出了一句含混至极的话：“原来你已经是骡的女人，他征服你了！”
贝妲抬起头来，嘴唇扭曲着，发出了一阵痛苦的狂笑。她说：“我，是骡的女人？太讽刺了！”
她又勉强露出一丝微笑，将头发向后甩，继续说：“一切都结束了，杜伦，现在我什么都可以说了。我还能够活多久，我自己实在不知道，但是至少我可以开始说……”她的声音逐渐恢复了正常，或者几乎接近正常。
杜伦紧绷的肌肉终于松弛下来，变得软弱无力又毫无生气。他说：“你要说什么啊？贝，还有什么好说的？”
“我要说说那些一直尾随着我们的灾难。我们以前也曾经讨论过，杜，你不记得了吗？为什么敌人总是跟在我们的脚后跟，征服了我们所经过的每一个地方，却从来没有真正抓到我们。我们曾经回到基地，然后基地就陷落了，而当时独立行商仍在奋战。我们及时逃到了赫汶，后来，其他的行商世界仍在顽抗时，赫汶却率先瓦解。然后我们又一次及时逃脱，到了新川陀，而现在新川陀无疑也成了骡的势力范围。”
杜伦仔细听完之后，摇了摇头说：“我不明白你的意思。”
“杜，这种境遇不可能出现在真实生活中，你我只是微下足道的小人物，不可能在短短的一年之内，天啊，不停地被卷入一个又一个的政治漩涡——除非我们带着那个漩涡在打转，除非我们随身带着那个祸源！现在你明白了吗？”
杜伦紧抿着嘴，他的目光凝注在一团血肉馍糊的尸块上——几分钟之前，那还是一个活生生的人，他感觉到无比的恐怖与恶心。
“让我们出去说，贝，我们到外头去。”
外面现在是阴天，阵阵微风轻轻拂过，吹乱了贝妲的头发。马巨擘也蹑手蹑脚地跟着他们一块走了出来，在勉强能听到他们谈话的距离外，心神不宁地来回走动着。
杜伦以紧绷的声音说：“你杀了艾布林•米斯，难道是因为你相信他就是那个祸源？”
他以为从贝妲的眼中看到了答案，又小声地说：“他就是骡？”杜伦虽然这么说，却不能——也根本不会相信这句话的含意。
贝坦突然尖声大笑，回答他说：“可怜的艾布林是骡？老天啊，不对！如果他真的是骡，我就不可能杀得了他。他会及时察觉出我的情感变化，将我的杀气转化成敬爱、忠诚、崇拜、恐惧，或者他喜欢的任何一种情感。不，就是因为艾布林并不是骡，所以我必须将他杀死。我这么做，是因为他已经发现了第二基地的位置，如果我再迟两秒钟，他就会将这个秘密告诉骡了。”
“就会将这个秘密告诉骡了……”杜伦傻愣愣地一直重复着这句话：“告诉骡了……”
他忽然发出一声尖叫，露出恐惧的表情，转身向小丑望去。他想，如果马巨擘听到他们说些什么，一定会吓得缩成一团，人事不省。
“不可能是马巨擘吧？”杜伦悄声地说。
“听好”贝妲道：“你还记下记得在新川陀发生的事情？噢，你自己想想看，杜——”
可是他仍旧摇着头，喃喃地向她抗议。
贝妲露出厌烦的表情，继续说：“我们在新川陀的时候，有一个人在我们面前暴毙，根本没有任何人碰到他，我说得对不对？马巨擘只是演奏他的声光琴，而当他停止的时候，那个皇太子就死了，这难道不可疑吗？一个什么都会害怕、动不动就吓得发抖的人，竟然有本事随心所欲地置人于死地，这难道还不够奇怪吗？”
“那种音乐和光影的效果……”杜伦说：“对情感会产生深厚的影响……”
“是的，对情感的影响，而且效果极大。而影响他人的情感，正好就是骡的专长——这一点，我想还能够视为巧合。马巨擘可以藉着暗示取人性命，本身却充满了恐惧，嗯，多半是因为骡影响了他的心智，这还可以解释得通。可是，杜伦，将皇太子杀死的那段声光琴演奏，我自己也接触了一点，只是一小部分而已，却足以使我又感到了那种绝望，它和当初我在穹窿中、在赫汶星上所产生的绝望感一模一样。杜伦，那种奇异的感受，我是绝不可能搞错的。”
杜伦的脸色变得越来越凝重，他说：“我……也感觉到了，不过我忘记了，我从来也没有想到……”
“我就是从那天才开始感到不对劲的，当时还只是一个模糊的感觉——或者你可以管它叫作直觉。除此之外，我没有进一步的线索。后来，普利吉来找我们，告诉我们有关骡的历史，以及他的突变异能，我才顿时恍然大悟——在穹窿中制造绝望气氛的是骡，在新川陀制造绝望气氛的是马巨擘，这两种绝望的气氛完全一样，因此，骡和马巨擘应该就是同一个人。这是不是很合理呢，杜？就像是代数学中的公理——甲等于乙，乙等于丙，则甲就等于丙。”
她已经近乎歇斯底里，但是仍勉力维持着冷静，继续说道：“这个发现令我害怕得要死，如果马巨擘真的就是骡，他就一定有办法知道我的情感——然后再矫正这些情感，以符合他自己的需要。我不敢让他察觉到这一点，所以尽量避开他。还好，他也避着我，他把注意力全部放在艾布林•米斯身上。我早就计划好了，准备在米斯泄露秘密之前将他杀掉，我自己秘密地计划着——尽可能不露出任何痕迹，连自己都不敢跟自己讨论。如果我能杀死骡——但是我不能冒这个险，他一定会察觉，那就一切都完啦。”
说到这里，她的情感似乎全部被榨干了。
杜伦却仍然坚决不同意，他粗声说道：“这绝对不可能，你看看那个可怜兮兮的家伙，他怎么会是骡？他甚至没有听到我们在说什么。”
可是当他的视线循着手指的方向延伸，却看到马巨擘已经机敏地站起身来，眼中透出阴沉而锐利的目光。他的声音不再有一丝古怪的腔调：“我听到她说的话，我的朋友，我坐在这里，只是在沉思一件事——虽然我如此聪明睿智又深谋远虑，为何却犯下这么一个严重的错误，令我失败得那么惨。”
杜伦跌跌撞撞地连退了好几步，似乎是害怕“小丑”伸手就会碰到自己，或者被他呼出的气息沾染到身上。
马巨擘点点头，回答了对方那个无言的问题：“我就是骡。”
他似乎下再是一个丑怪的畸形人，细长的四肢与又尖又长的鼻子，现在看起来也一点都不可笑了。往昔的畏缩恐惧早已荡然无存，他现在的行为举止既坚决又镇定。
他一下子就掌握住了状况，显然他对应付这种场面极有经验。
他以宽大的口气说：“你们坐下来吧，坐下，不必那么拘谨，放轻松一点。这场游戏已经结束，我现在要讲一个故事给你们听。这是我的一个弱点——我希望别人能了解我。”
他褐色的眼珠凝望着贝妲，透出的仍是那个小丑——马巨擘所有的充满温柔与伤感的眼神。
“我的童年生活实在不堪回首，”他开始了叙述，全神贯注地说：“也许你们可以了解这一点。我的瘦弱是先天性的，我的鼻子也是生来就如此，所以我不可能有一个正常的童年。我的母亲来不及看我一眼就去世了，而父亲是谁我从来都不知道。没有任何人照顾我，在成长的过程中，我的心灵受到数不尽的创伤与折磨，这造成了我自怜的心态，以及对于他人极端的仇视。当年大家都认为我是一个古怪的小孩，全都对我敬而远之，大多数人是嫌恶我，也有少数是由于害怕。在我身边，常会发生一些意想不到的怪事——不过，不提这些事了！反正就是因为这些怪事，才使得普利吉上尉在调查我的童年时，发现我是一个突变种。而这个事实，我直到二十几岁才真正发觉。”
杜伦与贝妲茫然地听着，每一句话都如同一个浪头冲击而来。他们两人坐在原地一动下动，其实并没有听进去多少。马巨擘——或者应该说是骡，在两人的面前踱着碎步，他面对着自己环抱在胸前的双手，继续滔滔不绝地说：“对于自己具有这种不寻常的能力，我似乎是慢慢体会出来的，实在可说是慢得不可思议。即使在我自己完全了解之后，我也还是不敢相信。对我而言，人的心灵就像是一个刻度盘，其中的指针所指示的，就是那个人最主要的情感。这是一个不太高明的比喻，可是除此之外，又要我如何解释呢？经过了很长一段时间，我发现自己有办法接触到那些心灵，再将指针拨到我所希望的位置，并且可以让它永远固定在那里。又过了很久很久之后，我才了解原来别人都没有这种本事。
“于是，我体认到了自己具有超人的能力，随之而来的下一个念头，就是要用它来补偿我悲惨的早年。也许你们可以了解这一点，也许你们可以试着去了解。身为一个畸形人，绝不是一件容易的事情——尤其是对于这个事实，我自己完全心知肚明。刻毒的嘲笑、讽刺始终围绕着我——与众不同！非我族类！
“你们绝对无法想像那种滋味！”
他抬头望着天空，又踮起脚尖来，身子左右摇蔽着，彷佛完全沉浸在回忆中。然后，他面无表情地继续说：“但是我终于学缓笏如何自处，并且决定要将银河踩在脚下。好，银河始终是他们的天下，我一直耐着性子忍气吞声——足足有二十二年之久。现在应该换我了！该轮到你们这些人尝尝那种滋味！不过银河占了绝大的优势——我只有一个，对方却有千兆人！”
他顿了一顿，向贝妲迅速瞄了一眼，又说：“可是我也有弱点，我自己根本做下了任何事。如果我想要攫获权力，就必须假借他人之手，必须透过中间的媒介，我才能成功。一向都是如此！就像普利吉所说的，我先利用一个汪洋大盗，得到了第一个小行星据点；再通过一个实业家，首度占领一个行星作为根据地；然后又透过许许多多的其他人，包括那个卡尔根统领，我攻下了卡尔根，拥有了第一个舰队。此后，下一个目标便是基地——而此时你们两位出场了。
“进攻基地——”他柔声地说：“过去我从来没有进行过那么艰巨的行动。想要一举攻下基地，我必须先打垮基地绝大多数的统治阶级，或者至少尽可能削弱他们的力量。我当然能够一步一步做到这一点——不过也有捷径可循，于是我决定抄捷径。毕竟，一个大力士如果能够举起五百磅的重物，并不代表他喜欢永远举着不放。我控制他人情感的过程并不简单，如果不是有绝对必要，我会尽量避免使用。所以在我对付基地的首次行动中，我希望能找到盟友帮助我。
“我化装成一个小丑，开始寻找基地的问谍。我可以肯定基地一定派出了一名至数名的间谍，到卡尔根来调查我的底细。现在我已经知道，我当初想找的那名间谍是汉•普利吉。然而，也许冥冥中自有定数，却让我先碰到你们两位。虽然我具有某种程度的精神感应力，却无法百分之百了解他人的思想，而你，我亲爱的女士，你是从基地来的，使我误以为你就是我的目标——这并不是什么严重的错误，因为普利吉后来还是加入我们，然而，这却是导致那个致命错误的第一步。”
杜伦直到此时才稍稍挪动了一下身子，用愤怒的语调说：“等一下，你的意思是说，当我手中只有一柄麻痹枪，却勇敢地面对那个中尉，奋不顾身拯救你的时候——其实是你控制了我的情感，我才会那么做的。”
接着他又急切地问道：“你的意思是说，从头到尾我都受到你的控制？”
骡的脸上显出了极淡的笑意，他回答说：“有何不可呢？你认为不大可能吗？那么问问你自己——如果你的心智正常的话，有可能为了一个从未见过的丑怪陌生人，冒上生命的危险吗？我可以想像，当你冷静下来之后，一定曾对自己的行动感到惊讶下已。”
“没错，”贝妲含糊地答道：“他的确感到惊讶，这是很自然的事。”
“其实，”骡继续说：“杜伦当初根本没有危险。那名中尉早就接到了明确的指令，叫他一定要放我们走。就是这样，我们三个人，再加上后来的普利吉，便一起来到了基地——你们现在可以看得出来，我计划的行动进行得如何顺利。当普利吉接受军事审判的时候，我们三人也曾出席。事实上，我并不只是坐在那里而已，从头到尾我都忙得很——那个军事法庭的审判官，后来在与我方的战争中，担任一个分遗舰队的指挥官，结果他们轻易地就投降了。而我的舰队因此赢得了侯里哥之役，以及其他几场小型的战役。
“透过普利吉，我又接触到了米斯博士。米斯送给我一把声光琴，这件事好像完全出于他的自愿。有了声光琴之后，更使我的工作简单了许多。只不过米斯这个举动，其实也并非完全出于他的自愿。”
贝妲突然打岔：“那些演奏会！我曾经想过其中的关联，现在我明白了！”
“没错，”骡说：“声光琴等于是一种精神聚焦装置，就某一方面而言，它就是一种简单的情感控制器。利用声光琴，我可以同时影响许多人的情感，如果只拿它来对付一个人，效果就会更好。在基地陷落之前，还有赫汶陷落之前，我在那两旷地方所举行的演奏会，都是为了制造普遍的失败意识。如果没有声光琴的话，我也可以让那个皇太子受到重创，但是却不可能要他的命，你们懂了吗？
“不过，我最重要的发现，仍然要算是艾布林•米斯。他也许能够……”骡的口气中透着遗憾，赶紧跳到下一句话：“关于情感控制的作用，有一点是你们所不知道的。直觉、预感、洞察力，不论你怎么称呼，反正也能将它视为一种情感。至少，我可以把它当成情感来处理。你们并不了解，对不对？”
他停了一下，没有听到任何否认，于是又继续说：“人类心灵的工作效率其实很低，通常只达到百分之二十这个数字。有些时候，会有较强的精神力量突然迸发，我们就通称为直觉、预感、洞察力。我很早就已经发现，我可以诱使他人的大脑持续高效率的运作，受到这种影响的人有致命的危险，不过却能够产生建设性的成果——在进攻基地的战争中，我方所使用的核场抑制器，就是一个卡尔根的技师，被我施以精神高压之后研发出来的。正如同往常一样，我再次假手他人为我工作。
“艾布林•米斯是我最重要的目标，他的潜力极高，而我需要的就是像他这种人。在我尚未对基地开战之前，我已经派出代表去跟帝国谈判，从那个时候开始，我就一直在寻找第二基地。当然，我并没有找到。我知道自己必须把它找出来——而艾布林•米斯就是这个难题的答案。当他的大脑处于高效率状态时，他就有可能重新导出哈里•谢顿当年的结果。
“他的确做到了一部分。我驱使他发挥脑力的极限，这个过程极为残酷，却必须要坚持到底。到最后他已经奄奄一息，可是仍然还有一口气……”遗憾的情绪又使他停了一下，然后他再说：“他应该能活到把秘密吐出来。然后，我们三人就可以一起进军第二基地，那将会是最后一场战役——如果不是我犯了那个错误。”
杜伦以冷酷的声音说：“你为什么要对我们说这么一大堆？你究竟犯了什么错误？和……和你讲的这些事情又有什么牵连？”
“为什么——因为尊夫人就是我的错误。尊夫人与众不同，在我一生中，从来就没有遇到过第二个。我……我……”骡的声音陡然间变了调，费了很大的力气才恢复过来。当他继续说下去的时候，整个人都显得阴森可怖。
“在我还没有调拨她的情感时，她就开始喜欢我。她既不嫌弃我，也没有觉得我滑稽可笑，她就是喜欢我！
“你难道不明白吗？你看不出这对我有多大意义吗？过去从来没有任何人……唉，我……非常珍惜。虽然我能够操控所有人的情感，最后却被自己的情感愚弄了。我一直未曾碰触她的心灵，你懂了吧，我完全没有影响她。我实在太过珍惜自然的情感，这就是我的错误——最大的错误。
“你，杜伦，你一直都在我的控制之下。你从来没有怀疑过我，也从未发现我有任何特别或奇怪的地方。比如说，当那艘‘非利亚’星舰拦下我们的时候——顺便告诉你们，他们之所以知道我们的位置，是因为我一直与他们保持联系，就如同我与麾下的将军们一直保持联络一样——当他们拦下我们的时候，我被带到他们的星舰上，其实是为了去制约汉•普利吉，他当时正被囚禁在那里。而当我离开的时候，他就已经是骡麾下的一名上校，而且成为那艘星舰的指挥官。这整个过程实在太过明显，杜伦，甚趾蟋你都应该能看得出来。可是，你却接受了我所提出的漏洞百出的解释，你明白我的意思吗？”
杜伦露出苦涩的表情，反问道：“你又如何和你的将军们保持联络？”
“这根本不是什么难事，超波发射器小巧后珑、易于携带，操作又十分简单。而且实际上也不会被人发现。当我在收发讯号时，即使真的被人撞见了，他的记忆也会被我切掉一小片，这种情况偶尔会发生。
“在新川陀的时候，我自己的愚蠢情感再度背叛了我。贝妲虽然不在我的控制之下，但如果我能够保持头脑冷静，不去对付那个皇太子的话，她也绝不会对我产生任何怀疑。可是那个皇太子对贝妲不怀好意，这一点惹恼了我，所以我杀了他。这是一个愚蠢的举动，其实我们只需要悄悄逃走就行了。
“你虽然开始起疑，但是还不太敢肯定。然而我却一错再错——我没有阻止普利吉，放任他对你们苦口婆心喋喋不休；我也不应该全心全意都放在米斯身上，因而忽略了你……”说到这里，他耸了耸肩。
“你都说完了吗？”贝妲问道。
“我都说完了。”
“那么，现在你准备怎么办？”
“我会继续我的计划。虽然我自己也知道，在如今这个退化的时代，几乎不可能再找到另一个艾布林•米斯——那样一个既聪明又受过完整训练的专家，我必须另行设法寻找第二基地。就某一方面而言，你们的确击败了我。”
现在贝妲也站了起来，她以骄傲的语气说道：“就某一方面而言？只是某一方面？我们已经将你彻底击败了！除了基地之外，你其他的胜利全都微不足道，因为银河如今已经是一片蛮荒的虚空。而你将基地攻占，也只能算是一个小小的胜利，因为对于你这个意料之外的危机，基地本来就没有胜算。第二基地才是你真正的敌人——第二基地！而第二基地一定会将你击败。你唯一的机会，就是在它还没有准备好之前，就将它找出来然后消灭，可是现在你已经做不到了。从现在开始，他们会加紧准备，每一分钟都不会浪费。现在——现在！整个的机制也许已经开始运转，当他们攻击你的时候，你就会知道了。你短暂的权力将会消失，和其他那些曾经不可一世的征服者一样，在一页血腥的历史上一闪而过，随即被投入卑贱的历史灰烬中。”
她大口大口地呼吸，几乎由于太过激动而喘下过气来。最后她说：“我们已经将你击败了，杜伦和我，我们如今死也瞑目。”
骡的那一双伤感的褐色眼睛，仍然是原来马巨擘那双伤感又充满爱意的褐色眼睛。他对贝妲说：“我不会杀你，也不会杀害你的丈夫。反正，你们两个已无法对我造成进一步的伤害。杀了你们也不能让艾布林•米斯起死回生，我的错误都是咎由自取，应该由我自己来承担全部责任。你的丈夫和你自己都可以离开。放心地走吧，就冲着我称之为‘友谊’的那种情感。”
然后，他突然又露出了高傲的神情，对两人说：“无论如何，我仍旧是骡，是银河中最有权势的人，我早晚还是会将第二基地消灭。”
贝妲不放过对他的最后一击，她以坚定而冷静的口吻，信心十足地说：“你做不到！我对谢顿的智慧仍然充满信心。你是你这个皇朝的开国者，却也将是最后一任皇帝。”
骡像是被击中了要害，他说：“我的皇朝？是的，我也曾经想过，而且常常在想——我应该建立一个皇朝，还应该找一个理想的皇后。”
贝妲顿时体会出了他眼神中的含意，不禁吓得全身打颤。
骡却摇摇头，对贝妲说道：“我能够感受到你心中的厌恶，但那是个傻念头。如果造化另有安排，我可以轻而易举地让你感到快乐，虽然那种至高无上的喜悦是人力的结果，可是却与真实的情感无分轩轾。可惜造化弄人，事与愿违——我自称为‘骡’，却不是……显然不是因为我过人的力量……”
说完，他转身就走，再也没有回过头来看一眼。
【全文完】