Prologue The First Galactic Empire had endured for tens of thousands of years. It had included all the planets of the Galaxy in a centralized rule, sometimes tyrannical, sometimes benevolent, always orderly. Human beings had forgotten that any other form of existence could be. All except Hari Seldon. Hari Seldon was the last great scientist of the First Empire. It was he who brought the science of psycho-history to its full development. Psycho-history was the quintessence of sociology, it was the science of human behavior reduced to mathematical equations. The individual human being is unpredictable, but the reactions of human mobs, Seldon found, could be treated statistically. The larger the mob, the greater the accuracy that could be achieved. And the size of the human masses that Seldon worked with was no less than the population of the Galaxy which in his time was numbered in the quintillions. It was Seldon, then, who foresaw, against all common sense and popular belief, that the brilliant Empire which seemed so strong was in a state of irremediable decay and decline. He foresaw (or he solved his equations and interpreted its symbols, which amounts to the same thing) that left to itself, the Galaxy would pass through a thirty thousand year period of misery and anarchy before a unified government would rise once more. He set about to remedy the situation, to bring about a state of affairs that would restore peace and civilization in a single thousand of years. Carefully, he set up two colonies of scientists that he called "Foundations." With deliberate intention, he set them up "at opposite ends of the Galaxy." One Foundation was set up in the full daylight of publicity. The existence of the other, the Second Foundation, was drowned in silence. In Foundation (Gnome, 1951) and Foundation and Empire (Gnome, 1952) are told the first three centuries of the history of the First Foundation. It began as a small community of Encyclopedists lost in the emptiness of the outer periphery of the Galaxy. Periodically, it faced a crisis in which the variables of human intercourse, of the social and economic currents of the time constricted about it. Its freedom to move lay along only one certain line and when it moved in that direction, a new horizon of development opened before it. All had been planned by Hari Seldon, long dead now. The First Foundation, with its superior science, took over the barbarized planets that surrounded it. It faced the anarchic Warlords that broke away from the dying Empire and beat them. It faced the remnant of the Empire itself under its last strong Emperor and its last strong General and beat it. Then it faced something which Hari Seldon could not foresee, the overwhelming power of a single human being, a Mutant. The creature known as the Mule was born with the ability to mold men's emotions and to shape their minds. His bitterest opponents were made into his devoted servants. Armies could not, would not fight him. Before him, the First Foundation fell and Seldon's schemes lay partly in ruins. There was left the mysterious Second Foundation, the goal of all searches. The Mule must find it to make his conquest of the Galaxy complete. The faithful of what was left of the First Foundation must find it for quite another reason. But where was it? That no one knew. This, then, is the story of the search for the Second Foundation! 序幕   第一银河帝国的历史已经持续万年之久,银河中每颗行星都臣服于帝国的中央集权统治之下。帝国的政体时而专制,时而开明,却总是将银河治理得井然有序。久而久之,人类便忘却还存在其他可能的情况。只有哈里•谢顿是惟一的例外。哈里•谢顿是第一帝国最后一位伟大的科学家,他最大的成就,在于将心理史学发展到登峰造极之境。这门学问是社会科学的精华,能够将复杂至极的人类行为,化约成明确而严密的数学方程式。个人的行为虽然无法预测,然而谢顿却发现,人类群体的反应能够以统计方法处理,人数越多,其计算就越精准。谢顿的研究对象,是银河系中所有的人类,而在他那个时代,银河总人口数已达到千兆之众。在钻研心理史学的过程中,谢顿发现了一个惊人的事实,那就是表面上强盛无比的帝国,实际上已病入膏肓,注定将要崩溃衰亡。这个预言与当时所有的常识,以及一般人的信念都恰恰相反。谢顿预见(或者应该说,他解出了自己导出的方程式,再解释其中的象征性意义),如果放任这种情况继续发展,银河将会历经三万年悲惨的无政府时期,然后另一个大一统的政府方能出现。于是,他开始了力挽狂澜、扭转乾坤的努力,试图将前述的三万年无政府状态缩减成一个千年,也就是说,要让和平与文明在千年之后重现。为了达到这个目的,他谨慎地设立了两个科学家的根据地,将之命名为“基地”,并故意设在“银河中两个遥相对峙的端点”。其中一个基地的一切完全公开,而另外那个第二基地的存在,则几乎没有留下任何形式的记录。 第一基地最初三个世纪的历史,在《基地》、《基地与帝国》这两本书中已有详尽的叙述。它最初只是由百科全书编纂者构成的小型社群,在银河外缘虚无的太空中渐渐被人遗忘。周期性的危机一个接一个冲击这个基地,各个危机都蕴涵着当时人类集体行为的各种变数。它的行动自由被限制在一条特定的轨迹上,只要沿着这条轨迹不断前进,就必定会有柳暗花明的发展,进而得以开展另一个新局。而这一切,都是由早已作古的哈里•谢顿一手策划的。 第一基地凭借着优越的科技成就,首先征服了周围数个落后的行星,然后又面临了从垂死帝国脱离、割地称雄的大小军阀,并且将他们一一击败。接着,它又与帝国的残躯发生正面冲突,结果战胜了帝国最后一名强势皇帝,以及他麾下最后一位真正的大将。不过第一基地遇到的下一个对手,却是连哈里•谢顿也无法预见的一名异人。这位自称为“骡”的人物是一个突变异种,天生拥有强大无匹的精神力量,能够随意改变人类的情感,进而重塑他人的心灵。他可以将最强硬的死敌改造成最忠诚的仆人,任何的军队都不能——也不会——与他为敌。第一基地终于也难逃陷落的命运,而谢顿计划眼看就要瓦解消失。然而,谜一般的第二基地依旧存在,因此也就成了众矢之的。骡必须将它铲除,才能完成征服银河的壮举;而第一基地为了另一个完全不同的理由,也非得把它找出来不可。但是它究竟在哪里?却没有任何人知道。本书所叙述的故事,就是各方人马寻找第二基地的传奇! PART I SEARCH BY THE MULE 1 Two Men and the Mule THE MULE It was after the fall of the First Foundation that the constructive aspects of the Mule's regime took shape. After the definite break-up at the first Galactic Empire, it was he who first presented history with a unified volume at space truly imperial in scope. The earlier commercial empire at the fallen Foundation had been diverse and loosely knit, despite the impalpable backing at the predictions of psycho-history. It was not to be compared with the tightly controlled 'union of Worlds' under the Mule, comprising as it did, one-tenth the volume of the Galaxy and one-fifteenth of its population. Particularly during the era of the so-called Search.... 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. There is much more that the Encyclopedia has to say on the subject of the Mule and his Empire but almost all of it is not germane to the issue at immediate hand, and most of it is considerably too dry for our purposes in any case. Mainly, the article concerns itself at this point with the economic conditions that led to the rise of the "First Citizen of the union" ?the Mule's official title ?and with the economic consequences thereof. If, at any time, the writer of the article is mildly astonished at the colossal haste with which the Mule rose from nothing to vast dominion in five years, he conceals it. If he is further surprised at the sudden cessation of expansion in favor of a five-year consolidation of territory, he hides the fact. We therefore abandon the Encyclopedia and continue on our own path for our own purposes and take up the history of the Great Interregnum ?between the First and Second Galactic Empires ?at the end of that five years of consolidation. Politically, the union is quiet. Economically, it is prosperous. Few would care to exchange the peace of the Mule's steady grip for the chaos that had preceded, On the worlds that five years previously had known the Foundation, there might be a nostalgic regret, but no more. The Foundation's leaders were dead, where useless; and Converted, where useful. And of the Converted, the most useful was Han Pritcher, now lieutenant general. In the days of the Foundation, Han Pritcher had been a captain and a member of the underground Democratic Opposition. When the Foundation fell to the Mule without a fight, Pritcher fought the Mule. Until, that is, he was Converted. The Conversion was not the ordinary one brought on by the power of superior reason. Han Pritcher know that well enough. He had been changed because the Mule was a mutant with mental powers quite capable of adjusting the conditions of ordinary humans to suit himself. But that satisfied him completely. That was as it should be. The very contentment with the Conversion was a prime symptom of it, but Han Pritcher was no longer even curious about the matter. And now that he was returning from his fifth major expedition into the boundlessness of the Galaxy outside the union, it was with something approaching artless joy that the veteran spaceman and Intelligence agent considered his approaching audience with the "First Citizen." His hard face, gouged out of a dark, grainless wood that did not seem to be capable of smiling without cracking, didn't show it ?but the outward indications were unnecessary. The Mule could see the emotions within, down to the smallest, much as an ordinary man could see the twitch of an eyebrow. Pritcher left his air car at the old vice-regal hangars and entered the palace grounds on foot as was required. He walked one mile along the arrowed highway ?which was empty and silent. Pritcher knew that over the square miles of Palace grounds, there was not one guard, not one soldier, not one armed man. The Mule had need of no protection. The Mule was his own best, all-powerful protector. Pritcher's footsteps beat softly in his own cars, as the palace reared its gleaming, incredibly light and incredibly strong metallic walls before him in the daring, overblown, near-hectic arches that characterized the architecture of the Late Empire. It brooded strongly over the empty grounds, over the crowded city on the horizon. Within the palace was that one man ?by himself ?on whose inhuman mental attributes depended the new aristocracy, and the whole structure of the union. The huge, smooth door swung massively open at the general's approach, and he entered. He stepped on to the wide, sweeping ramp that moved upward under him. He rose swiftly in the noiseless elevator. He stood before the small plain door of the Mule's own room in the highest glitter of the palace spires. It opened? Bail Channis was young, and Bail Channis was Unconverted. That is, in plainer language, his emotional make-up had been unadjusted by the Mule. It remained exactly as it had been formed by the original shape of its heredity and the subsequent modifications of his environment. And that satisfied him, too. At not quite thirty, he was in marvelously good odor in the capital. He was handsome and quick-witted ?therefore successful in society. He was intelligent and self-possessed ?therefore successful with the Mule. And he was thoroughly pleased at both successes. And now, for the first time, the Mule had summoned him to personal audience. His legs carried him down the long, glittering highway that led tautly to the sponge-aluminum spires that had been once the residence of the viceroy of Kalgan, who ruled under the old emperors; and that had been later the residence of the independent Princes of Kalgan, who ruled in their own name; and that was now the residence of the First Citizen of the union, who ruled over an empire of his own. Channis hummed softly to himself. He did not doubt what this was all about. The Second Foundation, naturally! That all-embracing bogey, the mere consideration of which had thrown the Mule back from his policy of limitless expansion into static caution. The official term was ?"consolidation." Now there were rumors ?you couldn't stop rumors. The Mule was to begin the offensive once more. The Mule had discovered the whereabouts of the Second Foundation, and would attack The Mule had come to an agreement with the Second Foundation and divided the Galaxy. The Mule had decided the Second Foundation did not exist and would take over all the Galaxy. No use listing all the varieties one heard in the anterooms. It was not even the first time such rumors had circulated. But now they seemed to have more body in them, and all the free, expansive Souls Who thrived on war, military adventure, and political chaos and withered in times of stability and stagnant peace were joyful. Bail Channis was one of these. He did not fear the mysterious Second Foundation. For that matter, he did not fear the Mule, and boasted of it. Some, perhaps, who disapproved of one at once so young and so well-off, waited darkly for the reckoning with the gay ladies' man who employed his wit openly at the expense of the Mule's physical appearance and sequestered life. None dared join him and few dared laugh, but when nothing happened to him, his reputation rose accordingly. Channis was improvising words to the tune he was humming. Nonsense words with the recurrent refrain: "Second Foundation threatens the Nation and all of Creation." He was at the palace. The huge, smooth door swung massively open at his approach and he entered. He stepped on to the wide, sweeping ramp that moved upward under him. He rose swiftly in the noiseless elevator. He stood before the small plain door of the Mule's own room in the highest glitter of the palace spires. It opened? The man who had no name other than the Mule, and no title other than First Citizen looked out through the one-way transparency of the wall to the light and lofty city on the horizon. In the darkening twilight, the stars were emerging, and not one but owed allegiance to him. He smiled with fleeting bitterness at the thought. The allegiance they owed was to a personality few had ever seen. He was not a man to look at, the Mule ?not a man to look at without derision. Not more than one hundred and twenty pounds was stretched out into his five-foot-eight length. His limbs were bony stalks that jutted out of his scrawniness in graceless angularity. And his thin face was nearly drowned out in the prominence of a fleshy beak that thrust three inches outward. Only his eyes played false with the general farce that was the Mule. In their softness ?a strange softness for the Galaxy's greatest conqueror ?sadness was never entirely subdued. In the city was to be found all the gaiety of a luxurious capital on a luxurious world. He might have established his capital on the Foundation, the strongest of his now-conquered enemies, but it was far out on the very rim of the Galaxy. Kalgan, more centrally located, with a long tradition as aristocracy's playground, suited him better ?strategically. But in its traditional gaiety, enhanced by unheard-of prosperity, he found no peace. They feared him and obeyed him and, perhaps, even respected him ?from a goodly distance. But who could look at him without contempt? Only those he had Converted. And of what value was their artificial loyalty? It lacked flavor. He might have adopted titles, and enforced ritual and invented elaborations, but even that would have changed nothing. Better ?or at least, no worse ?to be simply the First Citizen ?and to hide himself. There was a sudden surge of rebellion within him ?strong and brutal. Not a portion of the Galaxy must be denied him, For five years he had remained silent and buried here on Kalgan because of the eternal, misty, space-ridden menace of the unseen, unheard, unknown Second Foundation. He was thirty-two. Not old ?but he felt old. His body, whatever its mutant mental powers, was physically weak. Every star! Every star he could see ?and every star he couldnt see. It must all be his! Revenge on all. On a humanity of which he wasn't a part. On a Galaxy in which he didn't fit. The cool, overhead warning light flickered. He could follow the progress of the man who had entered the palace, and simultaneously, as though his mutant sense had been enhanced and sensitized in the lonely twilight, he felt the wash of emotional content touch the fibers of his brain. He recognized the identity without an effort. It was Pritcher. Captain Pritcher of the one-time Foundation. The Captain Pritcher who had been ignored and passed over by the bureaucrats of that decaying government. The Captain Pritcher whose job as petty spy he had wiped out and whom he had lifted from its slime. The Captain Pritcher whom he had made first colonel and then general; whose scope of activity he had made Galaxywide. The now-General Pritcher who was, iron rebel though he began, completely loyal. And yet with all that, not loyal because of benefits gained, not loyal out of gratitude, not loyal as a fair return ?but loyal only through the artifice of Conversion. The Mule was conscious of that strong unalterable surface layer of loyalty and love that colored every swirl and eddy of the emotionality of Han Pritcher ?the layer he had himself implanted five years before. Far underneath there were the original traces of stubborn individuality, impatience of rule, idealism ?but even he, himself, could scarcely detect them any longer. The door behind him opened, and he turned. The transparency of the wall faded to opacity, and the purple evening light gave way to the whitely blazing glow of atomic power. Han Pritcher took the seat indicated. There was neither bowing, nor kneeling nor the use of honorifics in private audiences with the Mule. The Mule was merely "First Citizen." He was addressed as "sir." You sat in his presence, and you could turn your back on him if it so happened that you did. To Han Pritcher this was all evidence of the sure and confident power of the man. He was warmly satisfied with it. The Mule said: "Your final report reached me yesterday. I can't deny that I find it somewhat depressing, Pritcher." The general's eyebrows closed upon each other: "Yes, I imagine so ?but I don't see to what other conclusions I could have come. There just isn't any Second Foundation, sir." Arid the Mule considered and then slowly shook his head, as he had done many a time before: "There's the evidence of Ebling Mis. There is always the evidence of Ebling Mis." It was not a new story. Pritcher said without qualification: "Mis may have been the greatest psychologist of the Foundation, but he was a baby compared to Hari Seldon. At the time he was investigating Seldon's works, he was under the artificial stimulation of your own brain control. You may have pushed him too far. He might have been wrong. Sir, he must have been wrong." The Mule sighed, his lugubrious face thrust forward on its thin stalk of a neck. "If only he had lived another minute. He was on the point of telling me where the Second Foundation was. He knew, I'm telling you. I need not have retreated. I need not have waited and waited. So much time lost. Five years gone for nothing." Pritcher could not have been censorious over the weak longing of his ruler; his controlled mental make-up forbade that. He was disturbed instead; vaguely uneasy. He said: "But what alternative explanation can there possibly be, sir? Five times I've gone out. You yourself have plotted the routes. And I've left no asteroid unturned. It was three hundred years ago that Hari Seldon of the old Empire supposedly established two Foundations to act as nuclei of a new Empire to replace the dying old one. One hundred years after Seldon, the First Foundation ?the one we know so well ?was known through all the Periphery. One hundred fifty years after Seldon ?at the time of the last battle with the old Empire ?it was known throughout the Galaxy. And now it's three hundred years ?and where should this mysterious Second be? In no eddy of the Galactic stream has it been heard of." "Ebling Mis said it kept itself secret. Only secrecy can turn its weakness to strength." "Secrecy as deep as this is past possibility without nonexistence as well." The Mule looked up, large eyes sharp and wary. "No. It does exist." A bony finger pointed sharply. "There is going to be a slight change in tactics." Pritcher frowned. "You plan to leave yourself? I would scarcely advise it." "No, of course not. You will have to go out once again ?one last time. But with another in joint command." There was a silence, and Pritcher's voice was hard, "Who, Sir?" "There's a young man here in Kalgan. Bail Channis." "I've never heard of him, Sir." "No, I imagine not. But he's got an agile mind, he's ambitious ?and he's not Converted." Pritcher's long jaw trembled for a bare instant, "I fail to see the advantage in that." "There is one, Pritcher. You're a resourceful and experienced man. You have given me good service. But you are Converted. Your motivation is simply an enforced and helpless loyalty to myself. When you lost your native motivations, you lost something, some subtle drive, that I cannot possibly replace." "I don't feel that, Sir," said Pritcher grimly. "I recall myself quite well as I was in the days when I was an enemy of yours. I feel none the inferior." "Naturally not," and the Mule抯 mouth twitched into a smile. "Your judgment in this matter is scarcely objective. This Channis, now, is ambitious ?for himself. He is completely trustworthy ?out of no loyalty but to himself. He knows that it is on my coattails that he rides and he would do anything to increase my power that the ride might be long and far and that the destination might be glorious. If he goes with you, there is just that added push behind his seeking ?that push for himself.' "Then," said Pritcher. still insistent, "why not remove my own Conversion, if you think that will improve me. I can scarcely be mistrusted, now." "That never, Pritcher. While you are within arm's reach, or blaster reach, of myself, you will remain firmly held in Conversion. If I were to release you this minute, I would be dead the next." The general's nostrils flared. "I am hurt that you should think so." "I don't mean to hurt you, but it is impossible for you to realize what your feelings would be if free to form themselves along the lines of your natural motivation. The human mind resents control. The ordinary human hypnotist cannot hypnotize a person against his will for that reason. I can, because I'm not a hypnotist, and, believe me, Pritcher, the resentment that you cannot show and do not even know you possess is something I wouldn't want to face." Pritcher's head bowed. Futility wrenched him and left him gray and haggard inside. He said with an effort, "But how can you trust this man. I mean, completely ?as you can trust me in my Conversion." "Well, I suppose I can't entirely. That is why you must go with him. You see, Pritcher," and the Mule buried himself in the large armchair against the soft back of which he looked like an angularly animated toothpick, "if he should stumble on the Second Foundation ?if it should occur to him that an arrangement with them might be more profitable than with me ?You understand?" A profoundly satisfied light blazed in Pritcher's eyes. "That is better, Sir." "Exactly. But remember, he must have a free rein as far as possible." "Certainly." "And ... uh ... Pritcher. The young man is handsome, pleasant and extremely charming. Don't let him fool you. He's a dangerous and unscrupulous character. Don't get in his way unless you're prepared to meet him properly. That's all." The Mule was alone again. He let the lights die and the wall before him kicked to transparency again. The sky was purple now, and the city was a smudge of light on the horizon. What was it all for? And if he were the master of all there was ?what then? Would it really stop men like Pritcher. from being straight and tall, self-confident, strong? Would Bail Channis lose his looks? Would he himself be other than he was? He cursed his doubts. What was he really after? The cool, overhead warning light flickered. He could follow the progress of the man who had entered the palace and, almost against his will, he felt the soft wash of emotional content touch the fibers of his brain. He recognized the identity without an effort. It was Channis. Here the Mule saw no uniformity, but the primitive diversity of a strong mind, untouched and unmolded except by the manifold disorganizations of the Universe. It writhed in floods and waves. There was caution on the surface, a thin, smoothing effect, but with touches of cynical ribaldry in the hidden eddies of it. And underneath there was the strong flow of self-interest and self-love, with a gush of cruel humor here and there, and a deep, still pool of ambition underlying all. The Mule felt that he could reach out and dam the current, wrench the pool from its basin and turn it in another course, dry up one flow and begin another. But what of it? If he could bend Channis?curly head in the profoundest adoration, would that change his own grotesquerie that made him shun the day and love the night, that made him a recluse inside an empire that was unconditionally big? The door behind him opened, and he turned. The transparency of the wall faded to opacity, and the darkness gave way to the whitely blazing artifice of atomic power. Bail Channis sat down lightly and said: "This is a not-quite-unexpected honor, sir." The Mule rubbed his proboscis with all four fingers at once and sounded a bit irritable in his response. "Why so, young man?" "A hunch, I suppose. Unless I want to admit that I've been listening to rumors." "Rumors? Which one of the several dozen varieties are you referring to?" "Those that say a renewal of the Galactic Offensive is being planned. It is a hope with me that such is true and that I might play an appropriate part." "Then you think there is a Second Foundation?" "Why not? It would make things so much more interesting." "And you find interest in it as well?" "Certainly. In the very mystery of it! What better subject could you find for conjecture? The newspaper supplements are full of nothing else lately ?which is probably significant. The Cosmos had one of its feature writers compose a weirdie about a world consisting of beings of pure mind ?the Second Foundation, you see ?who had developed mental force to energies large enough to compete with any known to physical science. Spaceships could be blasted light-years away, planets could be turned out of their orbits--" "Interesting. Yes. But do you have any notions on the subject? Do you subscribe to this mind-power notion?' "Galaxy, no! Do you think creatures like that would stay on their own planet? No, sir. I think the Second Foundation remains hidden because it is weaker than we think." "In that case, I can explain myself very easily. How would you like to head an expedition to locate the Second Foundation?" For a moment Channis seemed caught up by the sudden rush of events at just a little greater speed than he was prepared for. His tongue had apparently skidded to a halt in a lengthening silence. The Mule said dryly: "Well?" Channis corrugated his forehead. "Certainly. But where am I to go? Have you any information available?" "General Pritcher will be with you? "Then I'm not to head it?" "Judge for yourself when I'm done. Listen, you're not of the Foundation. You're a native of Kalgan, aren't you? Yes. Well, then, your knowledge of the Seldon plan may be vague. When the first Galactic Empire was falling, Hari Seldon and a group of psychohistorians, analyzing the future course of history by mathematical tools no longer available in these degenerate times, set up two Foundations, one at each end of the Galaxy, in such a way that the economic and sociological forces that were slowly evolving, would make them serve as foci for the Second Empire. Hari Seldon planned on a thousand years to accomplish that ?and it would have taken thirty thousand without the Foundations. But he couldn't count on me. I am a mutant and I am unpredictable by psychohistory which can only deal with the average reactions of numbers. Do you understand?" "Perfectly, sir. But how does that involve me?' "You'll understand shortly. I intend to unite the Galaxy now ?and reach Seldon's thousand-year goal in three hundred. One Foundation ?the world of physical scientists ?is still flourishing, under me. Under the prosperity and order of the union, the atomic weapons they have developed are capable of dealing with anything in the Galaxy ?except perhaps the Second Foundation. So I must know more about it. General Pritcher is of the definite opinion that it does not exist at all. I know otherwise." Channis said delicately: "How do you know, sir?" And the Mule's words were suddenly liquid indignation: "Because minds under my control have been interfered with. Delicately! Subtly! But not so subtly that I couldn't notice. And these interferences are increasing, and hitting valuable men at important times. Do you wonder now that a certain discretion has kept me motionless these years? "That is your importance. General Pritcher is the best man left me, so he is no longer safe. Of course, he does not know that. But you are Unconverted and therefore not instantly detectable as a Mule's man. You may fool the Second Foundation longer than one of my own men would ?perhaps just sufficiently longer. Do you understand?" "Um-mmm. Yes. But pardon me, sir, if I question you. How are these men of yours disturbed, so that I might detect change in General Pritcher, in case any occurs. Are they Unconverted again? Do they become disloyal?" "No. I told you it was subtle. It's more disturbing than that, because its harder to detect and sometimes I have to wait before acting, uncertain whether a key man is being normally erratic or has been tampered with. Their loyalty is left intact, but initiative and ingenuity are rubbed out. I'm left with a perfectly normal person, apparently, but one completely useless. In the last year, six have been so treated. Six of my best." A corner of his mouth lifted. "They're in charge of training bases now ?and my most earnest wishes go with them that no emergencies come up for them to decide upon." "Suppose, sir ... suppose it were not the Second Foundation. What if it were another, such as yourself ?another mutant?" "The planning is too careful, too long range. A single man would be in a greater hurry. No, it is a world, and you are to be my weapon against it." Channis' eyes shone as he said: "I'm delighted at the chance." But the Mule caught the sudden emotional upwelling. He said: "Yes, apparently it occurs to you, that you will perform a unique service, worthy of a unique reward ?perhaps even that of being my successor. Quite so. But there are unique punishments, too, you know. My emotional gymnastics are not confined to the creation of loyalty alone." And the little smile on his thin lips was grim, as Channis leaped out of his seat in horror. For just an instant, just one, flashing instant, Channis had felt the pang of an overwhelming grief close over him. It had slammed down with a physical pain that had blackened his mind unbearably, and then lifted. Now nothing was left but the strong wash of anger. The Mule said: "Anger won't help ... yes, you're covering it up now, aren't you? But I can see it. So just remember ?that sort of business can be made more intense and kept up. I've killed men by emotional control, and there's no death crueler." He paused: "That's all!" The Mule was alone again. He let the lights die and the wall before him kicked to transparency again. The sky was black, and the rising body of the Galactic Lens was spreading its bespanglement across the velvet depths of space. All that haze of nebula was a mass of stars so numerous that they melted one into the other and left nothing but a cloud of light. And all to be his? And now but one last arrangement to make, and he could sleep. FIRST INTERLUDE The Executive Council of the Second Foundation was in session. To us they are merely voices. Neither the exact scene of the meeting nor the identity of those present are essential at the point. Nor, strictly speaking, can we even consider an exact reproduction of any part of the session ?unless we wish to sacrifice completely even the minimum comprehensibility we have a right to expect. We deal here with psychologists ?and not merely psychologists. Let us say, rather, scientists with a psychological orientation. That is, men whose fundamental conception of scientific philosophy is pointed in an entirely different direction from all of the orientations we know. The "psychology" of scientists brought up among the axioms deduced from the observational habits of physical science has only the vaguest relationship to PSYCHOLOGY. Which is about as far as I can go in explaining color to a blind man ?with myself as blind as the audience. The point being made is that the minds assembled understood thoroughly the workings of each other, not only by general theory but by the specific application over a long period of these theories to particular individuals. Speech as known to us was unnecessary. A fragment of a sentence amounted almost to long-winded redundancy. A gesture, a grunt, the curve of a facial line ?even a significantly timed pause yielded informational juice. The liberty is taken, therefore, of freely translating a small portion of the conference into the extremely specific word-combinations necessary to minds oriented from childhood to a physical science philosophy, even at the risk of losing the more delicate nuances. There was one "voice" predominant, and that belonged to the individual known simply as the First Speaker. He said: "It is apparently quite definite now as to what stopped the Mule in his first mad rush. I can't say that the matter reflects credit upon ... well, upon the organization of the situation. Apparently, he almost located us, by means of the artificially heightened brain-energy of what they call a 'psychologist' on the First Foundation. This psychologist was killed just before he could communicate his discovery to the Mule. The events leading to that killing were completely fortuitous for all calculations below Phase Three. Suppose you take over." It was the Fifth Speaker who was indicated by an inflection of the voice. He said, in grim nuances: "It is certain that the situation was mishandled. We are, of course, highly vulnerable under mass attack, particularly an attack led by such a mental phenomenon as the Mule. Shortly after he first achieved Galactic eminence with the conquest of the First Foundation, half a year after to be exact, he was on Trantor. Within another half year he would have been here and the odds would have been stupendously against us ?96.3 plus or minus 0.05% to be exact. We have spent considerable time analyzing the forces that stopped him. We know, of course, what was driving him on so in the first place. The internal ramifications of his physical deformity and mental uniqueness are obvious to all of us. However, it was only through penetration to Phase Three that we could determine ?after the fact ?tbe possibility of his anomalous action in the presence of another human being who had an honest affection for him. "And since such an anomalous action would depend upon the presence of such another human being at the appropriate time, to that extent the whole affair was fortuitous. Our agents are certain that it was a girl that killed the Mule's psychologist ?a girl for whom the Mule felt trust out of sentiment, and whom he, therefore, did not control mentally ?simply because she liked him. "Since that event ?and for those who want the details, a mathematical treatment of the subject has been drawn up for the Central Library ?which warned us, we have held the Mule off by unorthodox methods with which we daily risk SeIdon's entire scheme of history. That is all." The First Speaker paused an instant to allow the individuals assembled to absorb the full implications. He said: "The situation is then highly unstable. With Seldon's original scheme bent to the fracture point ?and I must emphasize that we have blundered badly in this whole matter, in our horrible lack of foresight ?we are faced with an irreversible breakdown of the Plan. Time is passing us by. I think there is only one solution left us ?and even that is risky. "We must allow the Mule to find us ?in a sense." Another pause, in which he gathered the reactions, then: "I repeat ?in a sense!" 第一部 骡的寻找 第一章 二人与骡   骡……直到第一基地陷落后,骡政权的建设性才终于显现。在第一银河帝国真正土崩瓦解之后,他是首位拥有一个真正辽阔宇宙空间的统治者。早先由基地所建立的商业帝国,虽然有心理史学的预言作为无形的后盾,然而结构却过于松散,并且内部星多元发展。相较之下,骡所建立的“行里联邦”,却是一个控制严密的泛银河政权。尤其是在所谓的“寻找时期”…… ——《银河百科全书》 关于骡以及他所建立的“帝国”,《银河百科全书》其实已用了许多篇幅详加叙述。不过,其中几乎绝大多数与这个故事没有密切关系,而且大都相当枯燥无味。简单地说,它主要是在阐述导致“联邦第一公民”崛起的各种背景条件,以及其后的各种影响——“联邦第一公民”便是骡的正式头衔。 如果说,百科全书中“骡”这一条的作者,曾经对骡在短短五年间赤手空拳打下银河大片江山的事实,感到某种程度的讶异,那么他把这个情绪隐藏得很好。而骡的扩张一下戛然而止,进入为期五年的“守成期”,这个发展若是令作者惊讶不已,他也完全没有在字里行间显露出来。 因此我们只好舍弃《银河百科全书》,继续沿用我们说故事的老路子,开始审视第一与第二银河帝国之间的“大断层”历史中,紧接在五年守成期之后的发展。 “联邦”的政治相当稳定,经济也可说是繁荣富庶。在骡的专制统治之下,竟然出现了罕有的太平岁月,因此鲜有人愿意回到过去那种动荡不安的时代。在那些五年前自称为“基地体系”的世界中,也许偶尔会有些怀旧、惋惜的情绪出现,可是却也仅止于此而已。基地体系的领导阶层,没有利用价值的全部遭到处决,尚有利用价值的则一律已经“投诚”。 而在投诚的人士当中,最受骡重用的一位便是汉•普利吉,他现在已经是一名中将。 在基地时代,汉•普利吉是情报局的上尉军官,也是地下民主反动派的成员。当骡兵不血刃地拿下基地之后,普利吉曾经与骡势不两立,甚至试图行刺骡,直到他成为一名“投诚者”为止。 汉•普利吉的投诚并不是普通情况之下的见风转舵,这一点他完全心知肚明。他知道,自己的心意之所以会有一百八十度的转变,乃是由于骡是一个突变种,具有强大的精神力量,能够随意改变他人的心志。不过普利吉对这点非常满意,认为这是一件理所当然的事情。事实上,对于投诚的状况心满意足,就是投诚的主要征状之一。不过对于这个问题,汉•普利吉却连半点好奇心也没有。 他现在刚刚结束第五次的远征,从联邦境外的银河星空归来。这位经验丰富的太空人兼情报员,对于即将晋见第一公民这件事,感到实在没有什么意思。不过,他那张似乎由没有纹理的木材刻成、仿佛永远无法露出笑容的严肃脸孔,却一点未曾表露出这种情绪。反正对骡而言,任何的表情或行为语言都是没有必要的,因为他可以直接透视别人内心的情感,一直钻到他人心灵最细微之处。就好像有些普通人擅于察言观色,能够从眉毛的轻微抽动,感知出对方情绪的变化。 普利吉依照规定,将他的飞车停在当年总督所用的车库中,徒步走进官邸前面的广场。他沿着画有箭头的路径走了一公里,一路上都空无一人且静寂无声。普利吉知道,在官邸周围巨大的广场内,根本没有一名警卫或士兵,也没有任何的武装人员。 骡并不需要任何人保护。 骡本人,就是他自己最佳的、全能的守护神。 当官邸耸立在他眼前时,普利吉只听得见自己阵阵轻响的脚步声。这座建筑物的外墙由坚固的金属制成,发出辉煌耀眼的闪光。其中的拱门设计得大胆而夸张,参差交错地展开在半空中,充分表现出昔日帝国的建筑风格。偌大的空旷广场内,这座官邸傲然地耸立其中,居高临下俯视着地平线上拥挤的城市。 官邸里面住的就是那个人——就只有他自己一个人。一个新的贵族政体,以及联邦的整个政治架构,全都建立在他超人的精神异禀之上。 当这位将军走近时,巨大、光滑而沉重的外门便缓缓打开。他走了进去,步上一个宽广的坡道,滑梯载着他无声无息地迅速上升。随后他来到官邸中最灿烂的尖塔,置身于一扇朴素的小门之前,那扇门后面就是骡的房间。 此时,门打开了…… 拜尔•程尼斯的年纪很轻,而拜尔•程尼斯并非一个“招安者”。用比较普通的话来说,就是他的情感结构并未被骡动过手脚。他的七情六欲,以及他的心志与意念,仍旧完全由先天的素质与后天的环境决定。对于这一点,他自己也感到很满意他的年纪还下到三十,却已经在这个首都相当有名气。他生得英俊,头脑又精明,因此在社会上十分吃得开。而且由于他聪明伶俐,却又不失沉着冷静,所以在骡的面前也很得宠。对于这两方面的成就,他自己当然觉得极为骄傲。 今天,骡竟然私下召见他,这还是破天荒头一遭。 他徒步走在光洁的路径上,一路向铝质尖塔丛的方向前进。在帝国时代,那里曾经是卡尔根总督的官邸,他们奉皇帝的名义统治着卡尔根。后来,那里又成为独立统领的官邸,他们以本身的名义统治着卡尔根。如今,它则是联邦第一公民的官邸,骡以这里作为根据地,统治着自己一手建立的帝国。 程尼斯随口轻哼着小调,对于骡这次召见自己的目的,他一点都不感到纳闷。自然是关于第二基地的事!那个无所不在的幽灵,骡只是因为对它有所顾忌,便毅然下令中止了无止境的扩张政策,改而采用安稳的静态统治路线。而根据官方的说法,则是进入了一个“守成期”。 目前外界流传着好些谣言——这种事谁也制止不了,诸如:骡准备再度发动攻势;骡发现了第二基地的下落,即将要展开袭击;骡与第二基地达成了一项协定,双方同意瓜分银河;骡终于相信第二基地并不存在,马上便要将整个银河纳入势力范围…… 像这类在大街小巷随时都能听到的谣言,根本不值得在此一一列举。而且谣言也不是第一次出笼,只不过如今似乎比较具体一点。这种山雨欲来的态势,对于不安于稳定呆滞的太平岁月,而希望在战争、军事冒险、政治危机中大捞一票的投机分子而言,实在是一件值得高兴的事情。 拜尔•程尼斯就是其中之一。他并不惧怕神秘的第二基地,甚至对骡也无所畏惧。对于这一点,他也常常引以为傲。有些人对他的年少得志看不顺眼,认为他只是个轻浮的花花公子,稍微有那么一点小聪明,竟然就敢公然嘲讽骡的外貌,以及他的隐居式生活。那些人全都在冷眼旁观,可能正等着看他受到报应。没有人胆敢附和程尼斯,也没有几个人敢发笑。然而奇怪的是,程尼斯却始终安然无事,这使他的声誉反而越来越高。 程尼斯顺着自己所哼的小调,唱了几句即兴的歌词。他的歌词反复而单调,没有什么意义:“第二基地,威胁我们的国家,威胁着宇宙万物。” 他终于走到了官邸之前。 巨大、光滑而沉重的外门缓缓打开。他走了进去,步上一个宽广的坡道,滑梯载着他无声无息地迅速上升。随后他来到官邸中最灿烂的尖塔,置身于一扇朴素的小门之前,那扇门后面就是骡的房间。 此时,门打开了…… 骡没有其他的名字,他的头衔也只有一个——联邦第一公民。现在,他正透过单向透光的墙壁向外望去,眺望着耸立在地平线上灯火通明的城市。 在渐渐黯淡的薄暮中,星辰一颗颗绽现。这些星辰尽皆臣服于他的脚下。 想到这里,他便露出微笑,笑容中还带着一丝悲痛。因为世人所效忠的对象,竟然是一个深居简出的人物。他生得其貌不扬,乍看之下难免令人忍俊不禁。他的体重仅有一百二十磅,身高却有五尺八寸:四肢骨瘦如柴,好像是随便挂在皮包骨的身躯上。而他瘦削的脸庞,则几乎被三寸高的大鼻子全部遮掩。 惟独他的眼睛与滑稽的外表极不相称,那对眼睛是如此温柔——对于银河最伟大的征服者而言,那实在是一种奇异的温柔。而其中哀伤的眼神,也从来未曾完全消退。 此地是一个繁华世界的繁华首都,其间充满了各种欢乐。他曾经考虑过定都于基地,那是他所征服过最强大的对手,可是它却远在银河最外缘。卡尔根的位置则较为适中,此外,这里有着贵族政体的悠久传统,就战略观点而言,对他也较为有利。 然而此地传统的欢乐气氛,再加上空前的繁华景象,并不能让他的心境平静下来。 人们敬畏他,服从他,甚至也许还尊敬他——不过却是敬而远之。谁看到他能不产生轻蔑的情绪呢?当然,那些回转者例外。但是他们的人造忠诚又有什么价值?简直是太乏味了。他大可为自己加上许多封号与头衔,发明各种繁复的仪典礼数,可是那样做也绝对无法改变任何事实。最好——或者至少是“不妨”——就当一个“第一公民”,并且将自己隐藏起来吧。 他突然感到心中涌现出一股报复的念头,既强烈又残酷——银河中不准有任何一处反抗他。五年以来,他一直深居简出,藏身在卡尔根,就是因为顾忌虚无缥缈的第二基地,顾忌它可能构成的无止境又无所不在的神秘威胁。他如今才三十四岁,年纪并不算大——但是他却感觉自己已经衰老。虽然具有突变的强大精神力量,他的肉体却实在孱弱不堪。 每一颗星辰!每一颗目力所及的星辰——还有肉眼不可见的那些,全都要为他所有! 他要对所有的人报复,因为他并不属于人类;他要对整个银河报复,因为银河不能让他称心如意。 头上的警告灯突然轻轻闪起。他知道有人走进了官邸,并且能够感知那人的行径。同时,在这寂寞的暮色中,他突变的感应力似乎变得更强烈、更敏锐,使他感觉到那人的情感起伏,正不停敲击着自己大脑中的纤维。 他毫不费力就知晓了来者的身份,那是普利吉。 昔日基地的普利吉上尉,从未受过那个腐败政府的重用,只是一名小小的间谍而已。而他将基地铲除之后,开始大力拔擢普利吉,先授他以一级上校之阶,进而将他晋升为一名将军。如今,普利吉将军的活动范围已经涵盖整个银河。 这位普利吉将军,过去曾经是一名最顽强的敌人,现在却是百分之百忠心耿耿。然而,他这种转变并非因为得到了任何利益,也不是为了感激骡的知遇之恩,更没有什么交换条件,而纯粹只是回转造成的结果。 对于汉•普利吉强固不变的表层意识——忠诚与敬爱,骡可以感觉得很清楚。这层意识是他五年前亲自植入的,它控制着普利吉情感中每一个小小的波纹。在这个表层之下,还深埋着一个原本的自我——顽固的个性、对体制的叛逆以及理想主义。不过,即使是骡自己,现在也已经几乎察觉不到。 身后的门打开了,他转过身来。原本透光的墙壁立时变成不透明,紫色的霞光随即消失,室内亮起了核灯泡的白炽光芒。 汉•普利吉在指定的位置坐下。由于这是私下的召见,他并没有对骡鞠躬或下跪,也没有使用任何敬称。骡仅只是“第一公民”,只需要称呼他“阁下”即可,在他面前任何人都可以坐下,即使是背对着他也无妨——假如真有人敢这么做。 这一切,对于汉•普利吉而言,都是这位大人物对本身力量充满自信的证明,他对这一点可说是由衷地感到满意。 骡开口说道:“我昨天收到了你的报告,我不讳言有些失望,普利吉。” 将军的一对眉毛凑到了一块:“是的,我也这么想——但是我实在无法得到别的结论。事实上,第二基地真的不存在,阁下。” 骡沉思了一会儿,然后缓缓地摇摇头,这是他的习惯性动作:“可是艾布林•米斯曾经发现过证据,我们一刻也不能忘记艾布林•米斯所发现的证据。” 这些话骡说过不知多少次了。普利吉毫不犹豫,单刀直入地说:“米斯虽然是基地最伟大的心理学家,可是一旦与哈里•谢顿相比,他只能算是一个婴儿。他对谢顿当年工作所做的那些研究,是在您的精神控制与刺激之下进行的。也许您逼得他太紧,他可能做出了错误的结论。阁下,他一定是弄错了。” 骡叹了一口气,悲哀的脸庞从细瘦的脖子向前突出。他说:“如果他能再多活一分钟就好了,他当时正要把第二基地的下落说出来。我告诉你,他的确知道。如果真是这样的话,那我根本不用隐遁,不必一等再等。如今已经浪费了那么多时间,五年就这么白白溜走了。” 对于他的主子如此软弱的渴盼,普利吉不能产生任何反感,受控的心灵绝不允许他这么想。反之,他感到有些忧虑不安,因此说道:“阁下,可是除此之外,还能有什么其他的解释呢?我为您进行了五次探索,由您亲自选定路线,我保证把每一个小行星都翻遍了。那是三百年以前的事——据说旧帝国的哈里•谢顿建立了两个基地,作为新帝国的核心,以取代那个垂死的旧帝国。谢顿死后一百年,第一基地——我们大家都极为熟悉的那个基地——已在银河外缘变得家喻户晓。谢顿死后一百五十年,基地与旧帝国进行最后一战时,它的名声就传遍了整个银河。如今已经过了三百年,那个谜一般的第二基地究竟在哪里呢?它在银河中没有制造过一个小漩涡般的消息。” “艾布林•米斯说它将自己隐藏得很好,惟有如此,它才能够掩饰弱点,进而发挥敌明我暗的力量。” “除非它不存在,否则绝对不可能隐藏得那么彻底。” 骡抬起头来,大眼睛露出锐利而机警的目光。 “不对,它的确存在。”他用一根瘦骨嶙峋的手指,猛然指向普利吉:“我们的战略需要作一点改变。” 普利吉皱着眉头说:“您计划要亲自出马?我可不敢苟同这个想法。” “不,当然不是。你必须再去一次——最后一次。不过这次要跟另一个人联合指挥。” 在一阵沉默之后,普利吉以不悦的语调问道:“阁下,请问是跟谁?” “跟卡尔根本地的一个年轻人,拜尔•程尼斯。” “阁下,我从来就没有听过这个人。” “我知道你没听过。不过程尼斯这个人心思灵敏,野心也不小——而且他还未曾回转。” 普利吉的长下巴抽动了一下:“我看不出这样做有什么好处。” “有好处的,普利吉。虽然你机智过人,又有丰富的经验,而且对我绝无二心,不过你是一个回转者,你的忠诚是出于强制性的刺激,自己根本做不了主。你在回转之后丧失了一点东西,一种微妙的自我驱策,而这却是我无法弥补的。” “阁下,我一点也没有这种感觉。”普利吉绷着脸说,“我仍然清楚记得和您为敌的那段日子,我认为自己现在绝不比当年差。” “自然没有,”骡的嘴角撇出一个微笑,“对于这个问题,你的判断是很不客观的。那个程尼斯,嗯,他是个野心勃勃的家伙,凡事只为自己着想。他百分之百可靠——并非因为他对我忠诚,而是由于他极端自私。他明白惟有依附着我,自己才能水涨船高。为了增加我的力量,他会不惜任何代价去做任何事情。因为他相信,这样他就能分享绝大的甜头。他跟你一块去,会比你多带着一股驱动的力量——为了自己着想而产生的驱策。” “这么说的话,”普利吉仍然坚决反对,“为什么不干脆将我的回转解除?假如您认为这样可以改善我的能力——现在您绝对可以信得过我。” “普利吉,那是不可能的事。当你在我面前,或者说,在武器的射程范围之内,你必须牢牢地维持着回转状态。倘若我现在将你的控制解除,下一分钟我就会是个死人。” 将军的鼻孔翕张着,他抗议道:“您这么想,让我觉得很难过。” “我并不想伤害你。但假使你的感情能循着自然的动机自由发展,你绝对无法想像那将会变成什么样的状况。每个人都痛恨受到控制,也就是因为如此,普通的催眠师绝对无法将非自愿者催眠。不过我却可以做到这一点,因为我并不是催眠师。相信我的话,普利吉,你无法显露——甚至无从察觉的恨意,是我无论如何不愿面对的。” 普利吉低下了头,一股莫名的无力感铺天盖地而来,令他的内心感到沉重而灰暗。他勉强开口道:“可是您又如何能够相信那个人?我的意思是说,完全地信任他,就好像信任我这个回转者一样。” “是啊,我也认为不可以完全相信他。这就是你必须跟他一同行动的原因,懂了吧,普利吉。”骡将自己的身躯埋在高大的扶手椅中,靠着柔软的椅背,看起来好像一团会动的牙签。然后他再说:“如果他真的能找到第二基地——万一他竟然想到,和他们打交道也许会比跟着我更有利可图——你了解了吗?” 普利吉的眼睛流露出极度满意的光彩,他说:“这样好多了,阁下。” “正是这样子。不过你要记住,必须尽量给他行动自由。” “那当然。” “此外……嗯……普利吉,那个年轻人生得英俊,性情又好,非常讨人喜欢。你可别被他唬住了,他其实是个既危险又无情的角色。你不要随便和他作对,除非你已有万全的准备。我该说的都说完了。” 于是骡又变成孤独一人。他关掉灯光,又踢了一下开关,让墙壁重新转成透明。天空仍是一片紫色,城市则成了地平线上的一团光点。 这一切有什么意义?如果他真成了万物的主宰又如何?那样就能使普利吉这种人不再高大强壮、充满自信吗?就能够令拜尔•程尼斯变得丑陋不堪吗?又可以让自己完全改头换面吗? 他诅咒自己内心的这些疑惑,可是自己究竟在追求什么呢? 头上的警告灯突然轻轻闪起。他知道有人走进了官邸,并且能够感知那人的行径。同时,虽然他并不想那么做,却仍旧感到了那人情感的轻微起伏,不停地敲击着自己大脑中的纤维。 他毫不费力就知晓了来者的身份,那是程尼斯。在程尼斯的心灵中,骡察觉不出任何一点整齐划一的情绪,那里只有一个顽强心灵中的原始复杂性格,受到宇宙间杂乱无章的万事万物影响,从来没有被好好塑造过。程尼斯的心思如巨浪般汹涌澎湃,表面覆着一层谨慎的念头,但却十分薄弱,暗处的漩涡里竟是刻薄下流的言语。更深的层次涌动着自私自利的洪流,还有残酷的想法到处迸溅。而在最底下的那一层,则是由野心构筑成的无底洞。 骡感觉自己可以接触到这一切的情绪,并且能够轻而易举地把它们阻住,然后扭转这些情感之流,再将它们抽干,进而引出新的奔流。但是,这样做又有什么用?即使他能让程尼斯满头卷发的脑袋,充满对自己由衷的崇敬,难道就能因此改变他丑怪的外貌,让他不再诅咒白昼而热爱黑夜,不再隐遁在自己的帝国中一个幽暗的角落里? 身后的门打开了,他转过身来。原本透光的墙壁立时变成下透明,紫色的霞光随即消失,室内亮起了核灯泡的白炽光芒。 拜尔•程尼斯轻快地坐下,开口道:“阁下,这份荣幸对我而言并不意外。” 骡伸出四根手指摸了摸他的长鼻子,用不太高兴的语气回答道:“为什么呢,年轻人?” “我想是一种预感吧。除非我愿意承认,我也曾经听过那些谣言。” “谣言?谣言有数十种不同的版本,你指的是哪一个?” “就是即将重新展开泛银河攻势的那个谣言。我倒希望这是真的,如果真是这样的话,我也许能在其中扮演一个适当的角色。” “这么说,你认为第二基地的确存在喽?” “有什么不对吗?这样就能使这一切变得有趣多啦。” “你还发现这是一件有趣的事?” “当然啦,因为它神秘无比!想要训练自己的想像力,练习作出合理的臆测,还有什么比这更好的题目?最近报纸的附刊中,全是有关这方面的文章——这也许就能说明它有多热门。《宇宙报》的一位专栏作家,写了一篇很古怪的文章,内容是关于一个纯粹由心灵主宰的世界——您知道,就是第二基地——说那里的人发展出来的精神力量,其能量的强大程度,足以和任何已知的物理科学匹敌。例如可以在数光年之外,将敌方的星舰击毁,并且能将行星驱离原有的轨道…… “没错,的确很有意思。不过对于这个问题,你自己有没有什么看法?你同意那种心灵力量的说法吗?” “银河在上,我才不信呢!您想想看,如果真有那种超人存在,他们怎么可能会安分地待在自己的行星上?不可能的,阁下,我认为第二基地之所以隐藏起来,是因为它的力量远比我们想像中的薄弱。” “这样的话,我就很容易向你解释自己的想法了。你愿不愿意率领一个探险队,去寻找第二基地?” 一时之间,这个突如其来的状况似乎令程尼斯有些不知所措,因为所有发展都比他预料的要快一拍。他的舌头显然是僵住了,久久说不出话来。 骡以丝毫不带感情的语气问:“怎么样?” 程尼斯的额头皱成了数褶:“当然好,但是我要到哪里去找呢?您有没有任何情报?” “普利吉将军会跟你一起去……” “那么就不是由我带队了?” “等我说完你再自己决定。听好,你并不是基地人,而是在卡尔根土生土长的,对不对?好,那么,你对谢顿计划的了解可能很模糊。当第一银河帝国开始衰落时,哈里•谢顿与一群心理史学家,利用某些数学工具分析未来的历史发展——在如今这个退化的时代,那些数学已经完全失传了——然后他们就设立了两个基地,分别置于银河的两个端点。根据他们的计算,随着经济与社会背景的逐渐演化,这两个基地将发展成为第二帝国。哈里•谢顿预计这一切可以在千年之内完成,而如果没有这两个基地的话,却需要经过三万年的时间,那个第二帝国才会出现。然而我却不在他的算计之中,因为我是一个突变种,心理史学只能处理群众的平均反应,所以无法预测我的出现。你了解我说的话吗?” “我完全明白,阁下,可是这些跟我又有什么关系?” “这点你马上就会知道了。因为我打算现在就统一银河——提前七百年完成谢顿的千年大计。在我的统治之下,第一基地——那个物理科学家的世界——如今兴盛依旧。他们以联邦的繁荣与安定作为后盾,所发展的核武器足以横扫整个银河——或许只有第二基地例外,所以我一定要对它多了解一些。普利吉将军坚决相信它不存在,但我却知道事实并非如此。” 程尼斯用谨慎的口吻问道:“阁下,您又是如何知道的?” 骡的语气突然明显地充满愤怒:“因为许多在我控制下的心灵,如今都受到了外力干扰。做得很细微!很精妙!但仍旧被我察觉到了。这种干扰现象不断增加,常常在紧要关头发生在重要人物身上。因此这些年来,我必须小心谨慎,不能轻举妄动。现在你知道原因了吗?” “就这一方面而言,你具有得天独厚的优点。普利吉将军是我最得力的手下,所以他的处境并不安全。当然,他自己并不知道这一点。然而你不是回转者,因此不容易立刻被人发现你在为我工作。比起我的任何部下,你可以将第二基地瞒骗得更久——也许刚好足够久,你了解吗?” “嗯——是的。但是,阁下,请允许我再问您一个问题——您那些手下究竟是如何被干扰的?如果能让我知道的话,若是普利吉将军发生了什么变化,我也许就能察觉得到。他们是否不再回转了?是不是失去了对您的忠心?” “不,我说过干扰极为细微精妙,比你想像的更加麻烦。由于那种变化很难识破,有时我在采取行动之前,必须静观其变,因为不能确定某个重要人物的变化,究竟是干扰的结果,抑或仅是普通的反常现象。他们的忠诚并没有改变,可是创造力与智慧却大打折扣。表面上看起来,一个个完全正常,但是全都成了废物。在过去一年间,就有六个人发生了这种变化,六个我最得力的手下。”他一边的嘴角微微上扬,然后说,“他们现在被派去管理训练中心。我衷心希望,不会发生任何需要他们做出决断的紧急状况。” “万一,阁下……万一下是第二基地干的呢?如果是另外一个,像您自己这样的——另一个突变种?” “对方的计划实在太谨慎小心,也太过于深谋远虑。如果只有一个人,他的行动一定不会如此沉得住气。不,那是某个世界所采取的行动,而你将是我对付它的武器。” 程尼斯的眼睛亮了起来:“我非常高兴能有这个机会。” 可是骡却捕捉到了对方突然暴增的情感:“显然,你起了个念头,想要立下一件盖世的功劳,让你有资格得到最大的犒赏——也许,甚至让你成为我的接班人,这个不成问题。不过,你知道,反之你也将受到最严厉的惩罚。我的情感控制能力,并不仅止于诱发忠诚之心而已。” 他的嘴角露出了浅笑,看起来阴森可怖,程尼斯吓得从椅子上跳了起来。 在那一瞬间,就仅仅那么一刹那,程尼斯感到一股无比的悲痛向自己袭来,其中还夹着肉体的痛楚猛扑而下,令他的心灵几乎无法承受。然而这一切却在下一瞬间消失无踪,除了一股激烈的怒火之外,没有任何迹象遗留下来。 骡又开口说:“发怒是没有用的……对,现在你掩饰住了,对不对?不过我还是能知道。所以你给我牢牢记住——像刚才的那种感觉,我能够让它变得更强烈,持续得更久。我曾经以情感控制的手法处决过叛徒,我向你保证,再也没有更残酷的死法了。” 他顿了一下,然后说:“我说完了。” 于是,骡又变成孤独一人。他关掉灯光,又踢了一下开关,让墙壁重新转成透明。天空已经被黑暗笼罩,逐渐升起的“银河透镜”,在天鹅绒般深邃的太空中闪闪发光。 这一团朦胧的星云,是由无数恒星组成的,由于数目实在太多,所以看来像是融合在一起,变成了一大团光耀的云朵。 所有这些星体,都将是属于他的…… 如今只差临门一脚。他今晚可以休息了。 第二基地的“执行评议会”正在举行会议,对于我们而言,他们只是许多不同的声音。会议的实际场景,以及与会者的身份,目前都还无关紧要。 严格说起来,我们甚至不能妄想重塑会议的任何一幕——除非我们连所能预期的最低限度了解,都想完全牺牲掉。 我们所叙述的人物都是心理学家——却也并非普通的心理学家,我们其实应该说,他们是倾向于心理学研究的科学家。这句话的意思是,他们对于心理科学的基本观念,与我们所知道的关于心理学的一切,根本就是南辕北辙。由物理科学的实证传统培养出来的科学家,他们心目中的“心理学”,与“第二基地心理学”之间仅有极模糊的关系。 这就像是想要向盲人解释色彩的概念——更何况如今的这种情况,笔者与读者一样都可算是盲人。 在此应该先说明的是,参与集会的所有心灵,对于彼此的工作都完全了解——不只是一般的理论而已,还包括这些理论长时间应用于特殊个体的效果。我们所熟悉的语言沟通,对他们而言完全没有必要,即使是只字片语,也等于是冗长的、多余的废话。一个手势,一声鼻息,面容的微妙变化,甚至一个意味深长的停顿,都包含了丰富无比的讯息。 在做过如此的声明之后,我们就可以将会议的某一小段,翻译成极端特殊的某种语言组合。这是为了迁就读者自幼即受到物理科学熏陶的心灵,即使有可能丧失其中微妙的神韵,也是没有办法中的惟一办法。 在这个会议中,由其中一个“声音”主导全场。这个“声音”属于某个与会者所有,他的头衔是“首席发言者”。 他说:“究竟是什么阻止了骡当初的疯狂攻势,如今已经相当明显而确定。我不敢说这个结果应该……嗯,应该归功于我们对情况的控制。他显然差一点就找到我们,因为他借助于一位第一基地所谓的‘心理学家’,并且还以人为的方式提高那人的脑能量。当那个心理学家正要将他的发现告知骡的时候,幸好及时被击毙了。导致他被杀害的事件,相对于‘相位三’之下的所有计算,可以说完全是偶然的因素——下面请你继续说明。” 于是“第五发言者”开始发言,他的声音非常有特色。这位发言者以严厉的口气说:“我们对那个情况的处理绝对是个错误。当然,如果面对强大的攻击,我们根本没有招架的余地,尤其是面对骡——一个具有强大精神力量的异人——所率领和主导的攻击。在他征服了第一基地,开始称霸银河不久之后,正确地说,是在半年之后,他就来到了川陀。在他到达川陀后,半年之内很可能就会找来此地,而他的胜算极大——正确地说,是千分之九百六十三,误差为正、负万分之五。我们花了无数的时间,分析当初使他中止的那些力量。当然,我们知道他最初的动机究竟是什么,他具有天下无双的异禀,身体却是先天畸形,这种内在的矛盾我们都能看得很清楚。然而,惟有在事后,我们才能借由洞察‘相位三’,确定骡在面对一个对他有真正感情的人,表现出反常行动的可能性。” “既然他的反常行动,取决于另外那人能否在适当时机出现,就这方面而言,整个事件只是一个偶然。我们的特务很早就发现,那人只是一个普通的女子。由于感情作祟,骡对那名女子过于信赖,因此没有控制她的心灵——而这只是因为她喜欢他。” “那个事件——对于想要了解详情的人,可以到‘中央图书馆’,去查阅对整个事件所做的数学分析——它对我们是一个警告,因为我们制止骡的方法,其实是极不合章法的。所以今天我们才会面临整个谢顿计划灰飞烟灭的危险。我的发言到此为止。” 首席发言者等了一下,好让在座众人都能完全领会刚才那番话中的含意。然后他才接着说:“因此,目前的情况极不稳定。谢顿原本的计划已被扭曲,几乎到了无法挽回的地步。我在此必须强调,在这个事件中,由于我们极度欠缺先见之明,轻举妄动的结果让我们铸成了大错。我们目前所面临的危机,是整个计划彻底瓦解,再也无法恢复原状。时间不会停下来等我们的,我认为,我们只剩下最后一条路——而这个办法也相当危险。就某种意义而言,我们必须主动让骡找到我们。” 他再顿了一下,看了看众人的反应,才又说了一句:“我再重复一次——就某种意义而言,必须如此。” Chapter 2 Two Men without the Mule The ship was in near-readiness. Nothing lacked, but the destination. The Mule had suggested a return to Trantor ?the world that was the bulk of an incomparable Galactic metropolis of the hugest Empire mankind had ever known ?the dead world that had been capital of all the stars. Pritcher disapproved. It was an old path ?sucked dry. He found Bail Channis in the ship's navigation room. The young man's curly hair was just sufficiently disheveled to allow a single curl to droop over the forehead ?as if it had been carefully placed there ?and even teeth showed in a smile that matched it. Vaguely, the stiff officer felt himself harden against the other. Channis' excitement was evident, "Pritcher, it's too far a coincidence." The general said coldly: "I抦 not aware of the subject of conversation." "Oh?Well, then drag up a chair, old man, and let抯 get into it. I've been going over your notes. I find them excellent." "How ... pleasant that you do." "But I抦 wondering if you've come to the conclusions I have. Have you ever tried analyzing the problem deductively? I mean, it's all very well to comb the stars at random, and to have done all you did in five expeditions is quite a bit of star-hopping. That's obvious. But have you calculated how long it would take to go through every known world at this rate?" "Yes. Several times," Pritcher felt no urge to meet the young man halfway, but there was the importance of filching the other's mind ?the other's uncontrolled, and hence, unpredictable, mind. "Well, then, suppose we're analytical about it and try to decide just what we're looking for?" "The Second Foundation," said Pritcher, grimly. "A Foundation of psychologists," corrected Channis, "who are is weak in physical science as the First Foundation was weak in psychology. Well, you're from the First Foundation, which I'm not. The implications are probably obvious to you. We must find a world which rules by virtue of mental skills, and yet which is very backwards scientifically." "Is that necessarily so?" questioned Pritcher, quietly. "Our own 慤nion of Worlds' isn't backwards scientifically, even though our ruler owes his strength to his mental powers." "Because he has the skills of the First Foundation to draw upon," came the slightly impatient answer, "and that is the only such reservoir of knowledge in the Galaxy. The Second Foundation must live among the dry crumbs of the broken Galactic Empire. There are no pickings there." "So then you postulate mental power sufficient to establish their rule over a group of worlds and physical helplessness as well?" "Comparative physical helplessness. Against the decadent neighboring areas, they are competent to defend themselves. Against the resurgent forces of the Mule, with his background of a mature atomic economy, they cannot stand. Else, why is their location so well-hidden, both at the start by the founder, Hari Seldon, and now by themselves. Your own First Foundation made no secret of its existence and did not have it made for them, when they were an undefended single city on a lonely planet three hundred years ago." The smooth lines of Pritcher's dark face twitched sardonically. 'And now that you've finished your deep analysis, would you like a list of all the kingdoms, republics, planet states and dictatorships of one sort or another in that political wilderness out there that correspond to your description and to several factors besides?" "All this has been considered then?" Channis lost none of his brashness. "You won't find it here, naturally, but we have a completely worked out guide to the political units of the Opposing Periphery. Really, did you suppose the Mule would work entirely hit-and-miss?" "Well, then" and the young man's voice rose in a burst of energy, "what of the Oligarchy of Tazenda?" Pritcher touched his ear thoughtfully, "Tazenda? Oh, I think I know it. They're not in the Periphery, are they? It seems to me they're fully a third of the way towards the center of the Galaxy." "Yes. What of that?" "The records we have place the Second Foundation at the other end of the Galaxy. Space knows it's the only thing we have to go on. Why talk of Tazenda anyway? Its angular deviation from the First Foundation radian is only about one hundred ten to one hundred twenty degrees anyway. Nowhere near one hundred eighty." "There's another point in the records. The Second Foundation was established at 'Star's End.'" "No such region in the Galaxy has ever been located." "Because it was a local name, suppressed later for greater secrecy. Or maybe one invented for the purpose by Seldon and his group. Yet there's some relationship between 'Star's End' and 'Tazenda,?don't you think?" "A vague similarity in sound? Insufficient." 'Have you ever been there?" "No." "Yet it is mentioned in your records." "Where? Oh, yes, but that was merely to take on food and water. There was certainly nothing remarkable about the world." "Did you land at the ruling planet? The center of government?" "I couldn't possibly say." Channis brooded about it under the other's cold gaze. Then, "Would you look at the Lens with me for a moment?" "Certainly." The Lens was perhaps the newest feature of the interstellar cruisers of the day. Actually, it was a complicated calculating machine which could throw on a screen a reproduction of the night sky as seen from any given point of the Galaxy. Channis adjusted the co-ordinate points and the wall lights of the pilot room were extinguished. In the dim red light at the control board of the Lens, Channis' face glowed ruddily. Pritcher sat in the pilot seat, long legs crossed, face lost in the gloom. Slowly, as the induction period passed, the points of light brightened on the screen. And then they were thick and bright with the generously populated star-groupings of the Galaxy's center. "This," explained Channis, "is the winter night-sky as seen from Trantor. That is the important point that, as far as I know, has been neglected so far in your search. All intelligent orientation must start from Trantor as zero point. Trantor was the capital of the Galactic Empire. Even more so scientifically and culturally, than politically. And, therefore, the significance of any descriptive name should stem, nine times out of ten, from a Trantorian orientation. You'll remember in this connection that, although Seldon was from Helicon, towards the Periphery, his group worked on Trantor itself." "What is it you're trying to show me?" Pritcher's level voice plunged icily into the gathering enthusiasm of the other. "The map will explain it. Do you see the dark nebula?" The shadow of his arm fell upon the screen, which took on the bespanglement of the Galaxy. The pointing finger ended on a tiny patch of black that seemed a hole in the speckled fabric of light. "The stellagraphical records call it Pelot's Nebula. Watch it. I'm going to expand the image." Pritcher had watched the phenomenon of Lens Image expansion before but he still caught his breath. It was like being at the visiplate of a spaceship storming through a horribly crowded Galaxy without entering hyperspace. The stars diverged towards them from a common center, flared outwards and tumbled off the edge of the screen. Single points became double, then globular. Hazy patches dissolved into myriad points. And always that illusion of motion. Channis spoke through it all, "You'll notice that we are moving along the direct line from Trantor to Pelot's Nebula, so that in effect we are still looking at a stellar orientation equivalent to that of Trantor. There is probably a slight error because of the gravitic deviation of light that I haven't the math to calculate for, but I'm sure it can't be significant." The darkness was spreading over the screen. As the rate of magnification slowed, the stars slipped off the four ends of the screen in a regretful leave-taking. At the rims of the growing nebula, the brilliant universe of stars shone abruptly in token for that light which was merely hidden behind the swirling unradiating atom fragments of sodium and calcium that filled cubic parsecs of space. And Channis pointed again, "This has been called 'The Mouth' by the inhabitants of that region of space. And that is significant because it is only from the Trantorian orientation that it looks like a mouth." What he indicated was a rift in the body of the Nebula, shaped like a ragged, grinning mouth in profile, outlined by the glazing glory of the starlight with which it was filled. "Follow The Mouth.'" said Channis. "Follow 'The Mouth' towards the gullet as it narrows down to a thin, splintering line of light. Again the screen expanded a trifle, until the Nebula stretched away from "The Mouth" to block off all the screen but that narrow trickle and Channis' finger silently followed it down, to where it straggled to a halt, and then, as his finger continued moving onward, to a spot where one single star sparked lonesomely; and there his finger halted, for beyond that was blackness, unrelieved. "'Star's End,'" said the young man, simply. "The fabric of the Nebula is thin there and the light of that one star finds its way through in just that one direction ?to shine on Trantor." "You're tying to tell me that? the voice of the Mule's general died in suspicion. "I'm not trying. That is Tazenda ?Star's End." The lights went on. The Lens flicked off. Pritcher reached Channis in three long strides, "What made you think of this?" And Channis leaned back in his chair with a queerly puzzled expression on his face. "It was accidental. I'd like to take intellectual credit for this, but it was only accidental. In any case, however it happens, it fits. According to our references, Tazenda is an oligarchy. It rules twenty-seven inhabited planets. It is not advanced scientifically. And most of all, it is an obscure world that has adhered to a strict neutrality in the local politics of that stellar region, and is not expansionist. I think we ought to see it." "Have you informed the Mule of this?" "No. Nor shall we. We're in space now, about to make the first hop." Pritcher, in sudden horror, sprang to the visiplate. Cold space met his eyes when he adjusted it. He gazed fixedly at the view, then turned. Automatically, his hand reached for the hard, comfortable curve of the butt of his blaster. "By whose order?" "By my order, general"?it was the first time Channis had ever used the other's title ?while I was engaging you here. You probably felt no acceleration, because it came at the moment I was expanding the field of the Lens and you undoubtedly imagined it to be an illusion of the apparent star motion." "Why? Just what are you doing? What was the point of your nonsense about Tazenda, then?" "That was no nonsense. I was completely serious. We're going there. We left today because we were scheduled to leave three days from now. General, you don't believe there is a Second Foundation, and I do. You are merely following the Mule's orders without faith; I recognize a serious danger. The Second Foundation has now had five years to prepare. How they've prepared, I don't know, but what if they have agents on Kalgan. If I carry about in my mind the knowledge of the whereabouts of the Second Foundation, they may discover that. My life might be no longer safe, and I have a great affection for my life. Even on a thin and remote possibility such as that, I would rather play safe. So no one knows of Tazenda but you, and you found out only after we were out in space. And even so, there is the question of the crew." Channis was smiling again, ironically, in obviously complete control of the situation. Pritcher's hand fell away from his blaster, and for a moment a vague discomfort pierced him. What kept him from action? What deadened him? There was a time when he was a rebellious and unpromoted captain of the First Foundation's commercial empire, when it would have been himself rather than Channis who would have taken prompt and daring action such as that. Was the Mule right? Was his controlled mind so concerned with obedience as to lose initiative? He felt a thickening despondency drive him down into a strange lassitude. He said, "Well done! However, you will consult me in the future before making decisions of this nature." The flickering signal caught his attention. "That's the engine room," said Channis, casually. "They warmed up on five minutes' notice and I asked them to let me know if there was any trouble. Want to hold the fort?" Pritcher nodded mutely, and cogitated in the sudden loneliness on the evils of approaching fifty. The visiplate was sparsely starred. The main body of the Galaxy misted one end. What if he were free of the Mule's influence? But he recoiled in horror at the thought. Chief Engineer Huxlani looked sharply at the young, ununiformed man who carried himself with the assurance of a Fleet officer and seemed to be in a position of authority. Huxlani, as a regular Fleet man from the days his chin had dripped milk, generally confused authority with specific insignia. But the Mule had appointed this man, and the Mule was, of course, the last word. The only word for that matter. Not even subconsciously did he question that. Emotional control went deep. He handed Channis the little oval object without a word. Channis hefted it, and smiled engagingly. "You're a Foundation man, aren't you, chief?" "Yes, sir. I served in the Foundation Fleet eighteen years before the First Citizen took over." "Foundation training in engineering?" "Qualified Technician, First Class ?Central School on Anacreon." "Good enough. And you found this on the communication circuit, where I asked you to look?" "Yes, Sir." "Does it belong there?" "No, Sir." "Then what is it?" "A hypertracer, sir." "That's not enough. I'm not a Foundation man. What is it?" "It's a device to allow the ship to be traced through hyperspace." "In other words we can be followed anywhere." "Yes, Sir." "All right. It's a recent invention, isn't it? It was developed by one of the Research Institutes set up by the First Citizen, wasn't it?" "I believe so, Sir." "And its workings are a government secret. Right?" "I, believe so, Sir." "Yet here it is. Intriguing." Channis tossed the hypertracer methodically from hand to hand for a few seconds. Then, sharply, he held it out, "Take it, then, and put it back exactly where you found it and exactly how you found it. Understand? And then forget this incident. Entirely!" The chief choked down his near-automatic salute, turned sharply and left. The ship bounded through the Galaxy, its path a wide-spaced dotted line through the stars. The dots, referred to, were the scant stretches of ten to sixty light-seconds spent in normal space and between them stretched the hundred-and-up light-year gaps that represented the "hops" through hyperspace. Bail Channis sat at the control panel of the Lens and felt again the involuntary surge of near-worship at the contemplation of it. He was not a Foundation man and the interplay of forces at the twist of a knob or the breaking of a contact was not second nature to him. Not that the Lens ought quite to bore even a Foundation man. Within its unbelievably compact body were enough electronic circuits to pin- point accurately a hundred million separate stars in exact relationship to each other. And as if that were not a feat in itself, it was further capable of translating any given portion of the Galactic Field along any of the three spatial axes or to rotate any portion of the Field about a center. It was because of that, that the Lens had performed a near-revolution in interstellar travel. In the younger days of interstellar travel, the calculation of each "hop" through hyperspace meant any amount of work from a day to a week ?and the larger portion of such work was the more or less precise calculation of "Ship's Position" on the Galactic scale of reference. Essentially that meant the accurate observation of at least three widely-spaced stars, the position of which, with reference to the arbitrary Galactic triple-zero, were known. And it is the word "known," that is the catch. To any who know the star field well from one certain reference point, stars are as individual as people. Jump ten parsecs, however, and not even your own sun is recognizable. It may not even be visible. The answer was, of course, spectroscopic analysis. For centuries, the main object of interstellar engineering was the analysis of the "light signature" of more and more stars in greater and greater detail. With this, and the growing precision of the "hop" itself, standard routes of travel through the Galaxy were adopted and interstellar travel became less of an art and more of a science. And yet, even under the Foundation with improved calculating machines and a new method of mechanically scanning the star field for a known "light signature," it sometimes took days to locate three stars and then calculate position in regions not previously familiar to the pilot. It was the Lens that changed all that. For one thing it required only a single known star. For another, even a space tyro such as Channis could operate it. The nearest sizable star at the moment was Vincetori, according to "hop" calculations, and on the visiplate now, a bright star was centered. Channis hoped that it was Vincetori. The field screen of the Lens was thrown directly next that of the visiplate and with careful fingers, Channis punched out the co-ordinates of Vincetori. He closed a relay, and the star field sprang to bright view. In it, too, a bright star was centered, but otherwise there seemed no relationship. He adjusted the Lens along the Z-Axis and expanded the Field to where the photometer showed both centered stars to be of equal brightness. Channis looked for a second star, sizably bright, on the visiplate and found one on the field screen to correspond. Slowly, he rotated the screen to similar angular deflection. He twisted his mouth and rejected the result with a grimace. Again he rotated and another bright star was brought into position, and a third. And then he grinned. That did it. Perhaps a specialist with trained relationship perception might have clicked first try, but he'd settle for three. That was the adjustment. In the final step, the two fields overlapped and merged into a sea of not-quite-rightness. Most of the stars were close doubles. But the fine adjustment did not take long. The double stars melted together, one field remained, and the "Ship's Position" could now be read directly off the dials. The entire procedure had taken less than half an hour. Channis found Han Pritcher in his private quarters. The general was quite apparently preparing for bed. He looked up. "News?" "Not particularly. We抣l be at Tazenda in another hop." "I know." "I don't want to bother you if you're turning in, but have you looked through the film we picked up in Cil?" Han Pritcher cast a disparaging look at the article in question, where it lay in its black case upon his low bookshelf, "Yes." "And what do you think?" "I think that if there was ever any science to History, it has been quite lost in this region of the Galaxy." Channis grinned broadly, "I know what you mean. Rather barren, isn't it?" "Not if you enjoy personal chronicles of rulers. Probably unreachable, I should say, in both directions. Where history concerns mainly personalities, the drawings become either black or white according to the interests of the writer. I find it all remarkably useless." "But there is talk about Tazenda. That's the point I tried to make when I gave you the film. It's the only one I could find that even mentioned them." "All right. They have good rulers and bad. They've conquered a few planets, won some battles, lost a few. There is nothing distinctive about them. I don't think much of your theory, Channis." "But you've missed a few points. Didn't you notice that they never formed coalitions? They always remained completely outside the politics of this corner of the star swarm. As you say, they conquered a few planets, but then they stopped ?and that without any startling defeat of consequence. It's just as if they spread out enough to protect themselves, but not enough to attract attention." "Very well," came the unemotional response. "I have no objection to landing. At the worst ?a little lost time." "Oh, no. At the worst ?complete defeat. If it is the Second Foundation. Remember it would be a world of space-knows-how-many Mules." "What do you plan to do?" "Land on some minor subject planet. Find out as much as we can about Tazenda first, then improvise from that." "All right. No objection. If you don't mind now, I would like the light out." Channis left with a wave of his hand. And in the darkness of a tiny room in an island of driving metal lost in the vastness of space, General Han Pritcher remained awake, following the thoughts that led him through such fantastic reaches. If everything he had so painfully decided were true ?and how all the facts were beginning to fit ?then Tazenda was the Second Foundation. There was no way out. But how? How? Could it be Tazenda? An ordinary world? One without distinction? A slum lost amid the wreckage of an Empire? A splinter among the fragments? He remembered, as from a distance, the Mule's shriveled face and his thin voice as he used to speak of the old Foundation psychologist, Ebling Mis, the one man who had ?maybe ?learned the secret of the Second Foundation. Pritcher recalled the tension of the Mule's words: "It was as if astonishment had overwhelmed Mis. It was as though something about the Second Foundation had surpassed all his expectations, had driven in a direction completely different from what he might have assumed. If I could only have read his thoughts rather than his emotions. Yet the emotions were plain ?and above everything else was this vast surprise." Surprise was the keynote. Something supremely astonishing! And now came this boy, this grinning youngster, glibly joyful about Tazenda and its undistinguished subnormality. And he had to be right. He had to. Otherwise, nothing made sense. Pritcher's last conscious thought had a touch of grimness. That hypertracer along the Etheric tube was still there. He had checked it one hour back, with Channis well out of the way. SECOND INTERLUDE It was a casual meeting in the anteroom of the Council Chamber ?just a few moments before passing into the Chamber to take up the business of the day ?and the few thoughts flashed back and forth quickly. "So the Mule is on his way." "That's what I hear, too. Risky! Mighty risky!" "Not if affairs adhere to the functions set up." "The Mule is not an ordinary man ?and it is difficult to manipulate his chosen instruments without detection by him. The controlled minds are difficult to touch. They say he's caught on to a few cases." "Yes, I don't see how that can be avoided." "Uncontrolled minds are easier. But so few are in positions of authority under him? They entered the Chamber. Others of the Second Foundation followed them. 第二章 二人无骡   星舰已经准备就绪,除了目的地之外,其他一切都已齐备。骡建议他们再到川陀去一次,因为这个如今早已衰亡的世界,一度曾经是众星之首,是历史上最庞大的帝国之都,是银河中独一无二的大都会。 然而普利吉却否定了这项建议,因为那是一条老掉牙的路线,早就已经彻彻底底寻找过了。 现在,他在导航室中碰到了拜尔•程尼斯。这个年轻人的一头卷发蓬乱得恰到好处,刚好只有一绺垂到前额——好像是仔细梳成那样的——甚至连他微笑时露出的牙齿,也都与发型配合得天衣无缝。不过这位刚毅的将军,却感到自己似乎对这一切都无动于衷。 程尼斯的兴奋之情溢于言表,他说:“普利吉,这实在是太巧了一点。” 将军冷淡地答道:“我不知道你指的是什么。” “哦——好吧,那么你拽过一把椅子来,老前辈,让我们好好谈一谈。我已经看过了你的笔记,我认为实在了不起。” “这……真是过奖了。” “但是我不知道,你是否也得到了我心目中的结论。你有没有试过用演绎法分析这个问题?我的意思是说,以随机的步骤搜索各个星体当然很好,为了执行这种搜索,你在过去五次的远征中,做了无数的星际跃迁,这是很明显的事情。不过,你是否计算过,照你这种进度,想要将所有已知世界搜完一遍,得花多少时间?” “算过,而且不止一次。”普利吉丝毫不愿与这个年轻人妥协,但是打探对方内心的想法,却是一件很重要的事——因为这是一个未受控制的心灵,根本无从预测。 “好吧,那么,让我们试图分析一下,再决定我们真正要找的是什么。” “当然是第二基地。”普利吉绷着脸说。 “是由心理学家组成的基地。”程尼斯纠正对方的话,又接着说:“他们在物理科学的发展上处于劣势,正如同第一基地在心理学上的成就不彰。哎,你是从第一基地来的,而我却不是,这话的含意对你而言或许很明显。我们要找的是一个由精神力量所统治的世界,可是这个世界的科学却非常落后。” “一定如此吗?”普利吉以平稳的语调问道:“可是,我们这个行星联邦的科学并不落后。虽然我们统治者的权力来源正是一种精神力量。” “那是因为有第一基地为他提供各种科技支援,”对方的回答带着轻微的不耐烦,“可是放眼银河,第一基地是如今惟一的知识之源。第二基地一定藏在银河帝国瓦解后的残躯中,那里不会有任何有用的东西剩下来。” “所以你就假设,虽然他们的精神力量足以统治若干世界,他们的物理科学却很拙劣。” “他们的物理科学并非绝对拙劣,跟周围退化的邻邦相较之下,他们仍有充足的自卫能力。然而,骡却拥有精良的核能科技,面对骡的下一波攻势,他们势必无法抵抗。否则的话,第二基地为什么要藏得那么隐秘?最初,它的创建者哈里•谢顿就讳莫如深,如今那些人仍然谨遵这个传统。你们的第一基地从来就不讳言自己的存在,也从来没有人想将它隐藏起来。即使在三百年前,当它还是一颗孤独行星上的一个不设防的单一城市之时,它也没有刻意要藏头缩尾。” 普利吉阴郁面容上的线条抽动了一下,仿佛是在嘲讽对方。他说:“既然你已经做完了高深的分析,要不要我拿一张名单给你?那上面列着所有符合你所描述的政治蛮荒地带,并且还符合其他几个因素,包括各个王国、共和国、行星邦联,还有各种独裁政体。” “这么说,这些你都考虑过了?”程尼斯的口气没有表现出一丝软弱。 “名单自然不在这里,不过我们做成了一份指南,囊括了‘银河外缘对角’的所有政治集团。说实在话,你认为骡真的会完全盲目地摸索吗?” “好吧,那么——”年轻人的声音变得中气十足,“‘达辛德寡头国’有没有可能?” 普利吉摸摸耳朵,若有所思地说:“达辛德?哦,我想我知道那个地方,他们并不在银河外缘,对不对?我好像记得,他们位于距离银河中心三分之二处。” “没错,那又怎样?” “根据我们拥有的记录,第二基地应该在银河的另一端。天晓得,那可是我们惟一的线索。可是你为什么会提到达辛德呢?它与第一基地的角度差,仅介于一百一十到一百二十度之间,没有任何一处是接近一百八十度的。” “在你所谓的记录中,其实还提到了另外一点——第二基地的位置设在‘群星的尽头’。” “银河中从来没有这么一个地名。” “那也许是当地人用的名称,后来为了保密故意不让它流传出来,或者,也可能是谢顿那帮人取的名字。无论如何,‘群星的尽头’与‘达辛德寡头国’之间,的确应该有些关联,你难道不以为然吗?你到过那里没有?” “没有。” “可是在你的记录中,却曾经提到那个地方。” “那里?哦,没错,不过我们只是去补充食物和饮水,那个世界当然没有任何值得注意之处。” “你是在首都行星登陆的吗?我是说,政府的中枢?” “我不敢确定。” 在普利吉的冷眼凝视下,程尼斯沉思了一会儿,然后说:“你愿意花一点时间,陪我一起去看‘透镜’吗?” “当然。” “透镜”也许是当时星际巡弋舰上最先进的设备。它其实是一台极为复杂的电脑,可以将银河任意一处所见的夜空景象,重现在一个立体大荧幕上。 程尼斯调整着坐标点,并且关掉舱内的灯光。他的脸庞被透镜控制盘发出的微弱红光映得通红。普利吉则坐在驾驶座上,翘起一条长腿,面孔隐没在幽暗中。 慢慢地,当暖机时间一过,荧幕上现出了许多光点。普利吉一眼就看出那是银河中心附近的星象,稠密明亮的群星紧紧聚集在一起。 “这个,”程尼斯解释道,“是川陀所见的冬季夜空。据我所知,有一个很重要的关键,在你过去的搜寻行动中都被忽略了。任何一个明智的定向,一定都会拿川陀作原点。因为川陀是银河帝国的首都,除了身为政治中枢之外,它在科学与文化上更是全银河的中心。所以说,银河中的任何地名,十之八九都会以川陀作标准。此外,你也应该记得,虽然谢顿来自接近银河外缘的赫利肯,他所领导的研究却都是在川陀进行的。” “你到底想要说明什么?”普利吉以冰冷平板的声音问道,等于朝对方的热情浇下一盆冷水。 “星云图会说明一切的,你看到那个黑暗星云没有?”程尼斯手臂的阴影把荧幕上的银河遮掩了一部分。他的手指指着一个微小的黑点,它看起来像是光网中的一个小洞。他解释道:“根据星云图的记录,它叫做贝洛星云。注意看这里,我要把影像放大。” 普利吉以前也曾经看过“透镜影像”放大的过程,不过他仍旧屏息以待。这种感觉就像是凝望着星舰的显像板,而这艘星舰正穿越过银河中骇人的稠密星带,但却没有进入超空间。他看见群星向他们迎面扑来,从一个共同的中心四散纷飞;星光纷纷向外扑去,最后消失在荧幕的边缘;原来一些单独的光点,渐渐地一分为二,最后变作一团光球,朦胧的光带则分解成无数的光点。这些快速的影像变化,总是给人一种相对运动的错觉。 程尼斯不停地解说着:“你可以注意到,这等于我们正由川陀沿直线飞往贝洛星云。所以事实上,我们所看的影像,一直维持着从川陀望向这个星空的方向。其中可能有一点误差,因为我并未将重力造成的星光偏折考虑在内。我手边没有数学工具能计算这个因素,不过我确定影响不会太大。” 现在黑暗区域已经在荧幕上展开,当放大速率减缓时,可以看出星辰依依不舍地从荧幕的四周消失。而在那个逐渐变大的星云周围,突然涌现出许多明亮的星体。那是由于附近数立方秒差距的太空中,充满着钠与钙原子所构成的黯淡漩涡,将那些星体的光芒遮掩起来,因此只有在靠近时才看得见。 程尼斯又指着荧幕说:“那个星域的居民,将这个地方称作‘星口’。这有很重大的意义,因为只有从川陀的方向看过去,它看起来才会像是一个嘴巴。” 他所指的是那个星云中的一个裂隙,里面充满着闪耀的星光,参差不齐的轮廓看来仿佛是一个微笑的嘴形。“沿着星口,”程尼斯又说:“沿着星口向前走,星光越来越稀疏分散,就好像是进入了‘咽喉’。” 荧幕中的影像又放大了一些,直到星云以星口为中心伸展开来,占据了整个荧幕,只剩下星口露出细微的光芒。程尼斯的手指默默跟着星口走,直到它陡然停止,然后手指又继续移动,一直滑移到一颗孤独的明亮星体,才终于停在那里。如果再往外走的话,就是一片完全黑暗的深渊了。 “群星的尽头,”年轻不假加思索地说道,“星云在那儿变得稀疏,所以这颗星所发出的光线,能够向惟一的一个方向延伸——一路射向川陀。” “你想要告诉我……”由于无法置信,将军的话说到一半就打住了。 “我不是想要说什么,就是达辛德——它就是‘群星的尽头’。” 透镜随即被关上,室内的灯光重新亮起。普利吉大步冲到程尼斯面前:“你是怎么想到的?” 程尼斯靠在椅背上,脸上现出诡异而为难的表情:“纯粹是偶然,我的确想将它归功于我的聪明,不过事实上真的只是巧合。无论如何,反正这个结论合情合理。根据我们手头的资料,达辛德是一个寡头政治国,统治了二十七个住人行星,但是它的科学并不发达。最重要的是,它是一个偏僻而隐匿的世界,在该星域的区域性政治中严守中立,也没有实行扩张主义。我认为,我们应该到那里去看一看。” “你向骡报告过这些吗?” “没有,我们也暂时不准备告诉他。现在我们已经身在太空了,马上就要进行第一次跃迁。” 普利吉大吃一惊,赶紧跳到显像板旁。当他将焦距调整好之后,眼前的景象赫然是冰冷的太空。他目不转睛凝视良久,然后才猛然转过头来,而他的手已经下意识地摸到了坚硬、能带给他安全感的核铳把手。 “是谁下的命令?” “报告将军,是我下的命令,”这是程尼斯第一次称呼对方的军衔,“当我对你滔滔不绝的时候,你也许没注意到星舰已在加速。因为当时我正将透镜的像场放大,你虽然感觉到了,却以为那是星体运动的影像引起的错觉。” “为什么?你究竟在做什么?你胡扯了一大堆关于达辛德的事情,到底有什么目的?” “我可没有胡扯,我的态度非常严肃认真,我们现在正朝那儿飞去。我会选在今天启程,就是因为我们原本预计三天之后出发。将军,你不相信有第二基地,可是我却深信不疑;你只是奉骡之命行事,自己完全没有信心,我却看出了有极度的危险。如今,第二基地已经积极准备了五年,我不知道他们究竟是如何准备的,但是,万一他们在卡尔根布置了特务呢?如果我的心里藏着第二基地的下落,很可能就会被他们发现,我的性命或许就会受到威胁。而我非常珍惜这条小命,纵使只有一丝一毫的危险,我都希望能够完全避免。所以除了你之外,没有任何人晓得有关达辛德的事,而你也是在我们进入太空之后才知道的。不过即使如此,我们还得顾虑舰员呢。”程尼斯又露出了嘲讽式的微笑,显然他已经完全掌握了局势。 普利吉的手从腰际的核铳滑落,突然之间,一股模糊的不快向他袭来。究竟是什么使他不愿意采取行动?是什么使他变得优柔寡断?过去,当他效忠第一基地那个商业帝国的时候,他是一名充满叛逆性格、永远晋升不了的上尉。那时候,应该是他——而不是程尼斯——会对这种状况当机立断,毫不犹豫采取大胆的行动。难道骡真的说对了?他受控的心灵由于将服从摆在第一位,因而做事不再主动积极? 他顿时感到意志消沉,陷入一种奇异的疲惫状态。 他说:“做得好!可是从今以后,在你做出类似决策之前,一定要先跟我商量一下。” 此时,闪动的讯号吸引了他的注意。 “那是发动机室,”程尼斯随口说道,“我命令他们暖机五分钟,我还交代他们,如果发现任何问题要立刻通知我。你想留在这里吗?” 普利吉默默地点了点头。随后,他想起了自己已经接近五十岁,遂在孤独中沉思着这个可怕的事实。显像板现在只映出稀稀落落的几颗星,而银河的主体则挤在一旁,看起来十分朦胧。如果自己能够解脱骡的枷锁,那该……他刚刚想到这个念头,就吓得赶紧打住了。 轮机长哈克斯兰尼以锐利的目光,瞪着面前那位穿便服的年轻人。这个年轻人似乎很有权威的地位,还带着舰队军官特有的自信。哈克斯兰尼乳臭未干时就进了舰队,总是将权威与阶级划上等号,所以照理是不会将对方放在眼里。 不过这个人却是骡亲自指定的,而骡所说的一切,自然没有任何讨价还价的余地。单凭骡的一句话,就使他连下意识都毫无怀疑。情感的控制将他深深地、牢牢地抓住。 他半句话都没有说,只是将一个小小的卵形物体交给程尼斯。 程尼斯接过来,用手掂掂它的分量,露出了迷人的笑容。 “你是基地人,对不对,轮机长?” “是的,长官。在第一公民接收基地前,我曾经在基地舰队中服役十八年。” “你是在基地接受技术训练的吗?” “我是一名合格的一级技术员——安纳克瑞昂中央军校毕业。” “很好。这是你在通讯线路中找到的吗?就在我请你检查的那个地方?” “报告长官,是的。” “它是零件的一部分吗?” “报告长官,不是的。” “那么它到底是什么?” “报告长官,是一个超波中继器。” “你这么说还不够清楚,我可不是基地来的。它有什么作用?” “将这个装置放在星舰上,就可以在超空间中追踪这艘星舰。” “换句话说,我们不论走到哪里,都会被人跟上?” “报告长官,是的。” “好的。这是一种新近的改良型,对不对?它是由第一公民创建的研究院所研发出来的,是吗?” “报告长官,我相信你说的没错。” “而它的结构与功能都是政府的机密,对吗?” “报告长官,我相信你说的没错。” “可是它却跑到这里来了,真有意思。” 程尼斯两只手来回将超波中继器扔来扔去,几秒钟之后,他才猛然将手向前一伸,同时说道:“你拿去,把它原封不动放回原处,懂不懂?然后忘掉这件事情,完全忘掉!” 轮机长差一点就要行礼,却在最后关头硬生生地煞住。一个利落的转身之后,他就头也不回地离开了。 星舰在银河中进行着一次又一次的跃迁,它的轨迹是群星之间一条稀疏的虚线。虚线之中的“点”,是它在普通空间中行进十至六十光秒的短程路径;而“点”与“点”之间许多秒差距的空隙,则是星舰在超空间中跃迁一次的结果。 拜尔•程尼斯坐在透镜的控制盘前沉思,不禁对它兴起一股近乎崇敬的情绪。他不是基地人,对他而言,推动把手、启动开关这些事情,并不是一种从小就自然而然熟练的技能。 然而,即使对于基地人而言,透镜也不是一种单调无聊的装置。在它不可思议的紧致体积之中,藏有数不清的电子电路,足以记忆数亿颗恒星精确的相对位置。此外,它还具有一项更惊人的功能,那就是能将“银河像场”的任何一部分,沿着任意的三度空间轴进行平移,也可以使像场绕着任何一个中心旋转。 由于具有这些先进的功能,在星际旅行科技的进展中,透镜扮演了一个近乎革命性的角色。在星际旅行的早期,想要做一次超空间跃迁,必须先花一天至一周的时间进行计算——这其中大部分的时间,都花在计算船舰在银河中的准确位置。简单地说,就是至少要对三个相互距离很远的恒星,进行非常精确的观测,而这三颗恒星相对于某个银河坐标原点的位置,则必须都是已知的。 而关键便在于“已知”这两个字。一个熟悉某个方位“星像场”的人,可以轻易分辨出其中每个星体,就像能叫出朋友的名字一样。然而,在跃迁了十个秒差距之后,却可能连母星的太阳都认不出来,甚至根本就看不见了。 解决之道当然就是光谱分析,因为每个恒星的光谱都不尽相同,就好像是恒星的签名一样。数个世纪以来,星际交通工程学的主要课题,就是如何将更多恒星的光谱分析得更为仔细。随着星光光谱分析的发展,以及跃迁的准确度不断提升,银河旅行的标准航道逐渐建立起来。而星际航行也就从一门艺术,逐渐蜕变成为真正的科学。 不过,即使拥有像基地这样的科技水准——船舰上配备精良的电脑,还能利用崭新的星像场扫描法来分析恒星的“星光签名”,但只要是在一个不熟悉的星域中,驾驶员有时也得花上数天的时间,才能找到三颗已知的恒星来计算船舰的位置。 直到透镜发明之后,才使得一切完全改观。透镜的特色之一,在于只需要以一个已知恒星作为参考点;而另外一项特色,则是像程尼斯这样的太空生手也能操作自如。 根据跃迁的计算,此时最接近而体积也够大的天体是凯旋星。现在,显像板中央已经显现出一颗明亮的星体,程尼斯希望它正是凯旋星。 透镜影像的投影荧幕紧邻着显像板,程尼斯仔细地将凯旋星的坐标一个个键入,然后开启某个电驿,星像场立刻出现在荧幕上。荧幕中央也有一颗明亮的恒星,不过似乎与显像板上那颗没有明显的关系。于是他开始调整透镜,让星像场沿着z轴平移。接着他一面将画面放大,一面注意着光度计的读数,直到星像场中央的那颗恒星,其亮度与显像板中央的恒星完全相同为止。 程尼斯又在显像板上选了另一颗恒星,当然也是一个够大够亮的星体,然后从星像场中找到了对应的影像。接下来,他开始缓缓旋转荧幕,一直转到与显像板相同的方位。不过,他却突然咧开嘴,露出不满意的表情,同时放弃了这个结果。然后他又再度旋转荧幕,选择了另外一颗亮星,却发现还是不对。他只好再做第三次尝试,这回他终于露出笑容,总算成功了。一个受过“相对位置判别训练”的专家,也许一次就能成功,但他只试了三次,这个成绩也相当难得了。 最后剩下的工作便是微调。他先将星像场与显像板的影像重叠起来,起初看起来是不尽相符的一团朦胧,大多数的星体都呈现很接近的两个影像。不过,微调的过程并不需要太多时间,没多久所有星象都融合为一,变成了单一的清晰影像。现在,星舰的位置已经能够直接从刻度盘上读出来,整个过程还不到半个小时。 程尼斯在汉•普利吉的寝室里找到他,这位将军显然正准备就寝。 将军抬起头来问:“有什么消息吗?” “没有什么特别的消息,我们只要再做一次跃迁,就可以到达达辛德了。” “这我知道。” “如果你想上床,那我就不打扰你。可是我想问一下,我们在席尔搜集到的胶卷,你究竟有没有好好看过?” 程尼斯所说的那个胶卷,如今摆在一个矮书架下层的黑色盒子中。汉•普利吉向那里投出一个轻蔑的目光,然后回答:“看过了。” “你有什么感想吗?” “我认为,即使过去曾经有任何与历史相关的科学,如今在银河系的这个区域,也已经几乎失传了。” 程尼斯露出了尖刻的笑容:“我知道你这句话的意思,资料相当的贫乏,对不对?” “也不尽然,如果你对统治者的实录情有独钟,那又另当别论。我认为,这些东西无论如何都不会可靠。那些专注于个人事迹的历史,评价完全取决于作者的主观意识,好的可以抹黑,坏的也能够漂白,我发觉它一点用处也没有。” “但是里面提到了达辛德,我拿胶卷给你,就是想让你看看那些。这是我找到的惟一一件相关资料,其他的全都连提也没提。” “好吧,他们的统治者有好有坏,他们曾经征服了数个行星,打赢过几场战争,也吃过一些败仗,但是从来没有什么特殊的事迹。我认为你的理论并没有任何价值,程尼斯。” “可是你却忽略了一些重点,你难道没有注意到吗?这个世界从来就不曾与其他世界结盟,在那个挤满星辰的角落,他们始终置身于区域性政治之外。正如你所说的,他们曾经征服过数个行星,可是却能适可而止——而且没有吃过什么了不起的败仗。好像他们故意做得恰到好处,扩张到刚好足以自卫,却又不会引起注意的范围。” “非常好,”普利吉以毫无感情的语调回答:“我并不反对登陆,反正最坏的结果也只不过是浪费一点时间。” “噢,不对。最坏的结果是我们全军覆没——如果那里真的是第二基地的大本营。你别忘了,天晓得那个世界藏有多少和骡一样的人物。” “那你计划怎么做呢?” “先降落在某个不起眼的藩属行星上,尽可能搜集有关达辛德的一切,然后再见机行事。” “好吧,我没有意见。如果你不介意的话,我想要熄灯了。” 程尼斯摆摆手,就径自离开了。 这座漂浮在广袤太空的金属岛屿上,有一间小小的寝室立刻陷入了黑暗。不过,汉•普利吉将军仍然醒着,任由脑海里的思绪胡乱奔腾。 假如他硬着头皮决定的每件事情都是对的——许多事实都已开始相互印证——那么达辛德的确就是第二基地,不可能会另有蹊跷,可是为什么?为什么呢? 真的就是达辛德吗?一个平凡的世界?没有一点特出之处?只是帝国残骸中的一个贫民窟?断垣残壁之间的一个碎片?他还记得很清楚,每当骡提到昔日基地的心理学家艾布林•米斯——那个曾经(也许曾经)发现了第二基地秘密的人,总是会皱着眉头,连声音也变得有气无力。 普利吉想起骡话语中的紧张情绪:“米斯好像突然被吓呆了,仿佛第二基地的秘密超乎他预料之外,跟他原先的假设完全背道而驰。我多希望能直接读出他的思想,而不是他的情绪。那些情绪是那么明显——尤其是那股压盖一切的惊愕。” 惊愕是米斯情绪中的主调,他一定发现了难以置信的事实!而现在,则换成了这个男孩,这个老是笑眯眯的青年,他对达辛德充满信心,滔滔不绝地解释着最不起眼就是最不平凡的道理。而他一定没错,他的说法绝对是正确的。否则的话,天底下不会再有任何合理的事了。 普利吉在进入睡眠状态之前,最后一丝清醒的意识是冷酷的得意。以太管旁边的那个超波追踪器仍在原处,他在一小时前还去检查过,而程尼斯对此则完全不知情。 在评议会大厅的休息室中,几位发言者聚在一起——他们马上就要进入大厅,展开一天的工作——此时,两三个念头迅疾地在他们之间飞来跃去。 “所以说,骡已经开始行动了。” “我也听说了。危险!太危险了!” “如果一切都依循既定的函数运作,就不会有什么危险。” “骡不是一个普通人——想要左右他所选定的傀儡,很难不被他察觉。受他控制的心灵更是不能轻易碰触,据说已经有几个被他发现了。” “没错,但我实在想不出有什么办法能够避免。” “未受控制的心灵比较容易对付,可是他手下的重要人物中,却很少有这样的人……” 然后他们就走进了大厅,第二基地的其他成员则跟在他们后面。 Chapter 3 Two Men and a Peasant Rossem is one of those marginal worlds usually neglected in Galactic history and scarcely ever obtruding itself upon the notice of men of the myriad happier planets. In the latter days of the Galactic Empire, a few political prisoners had inhabited its wastes, while an observatory and a small Naval garrison served to keep it from complete desertion. Later, in the evil days of strife, even before the time of Hari Seldon, the weaker sort of men, tired of the periodic decades of insecurity and danger; weary of sacked planets and a ghostly succession of ephemeral emperors making their way to the Purple for a few wicked, fruitless years ?these men fled the populated centers and sought shelter in the barren nooks of the Galaxy. Along the chilly wastes of Rossem, villages huddled. Its sun was a small ruddy niggard that clutched its dribble of heat to itself, while snow beat thinly down for nine months of the year. The tough native grain lay dormant in the soil those snow-filled months, then grew and ripened in almost panic speed, when the sun's reluctant radiation brought the temperature to nearly fifty. Small, goatlike animals cropped the grasslands, kicking the thin snow aside with tiny, tri-hooved feet. The men of Rossem had, thus, their bread and their milk ?and when they could spare an animal ?even their meat. The darkly ominous forests that gnarled their way over half of the equatorial region of the planet supplied a tough, fine-grained wood for housing. This wood, together with certain furs and minerals, was even worth exporting, and the ships of the Empire came at times and brought in exchange farm machinery, atomic heaters, even televisor sets. The last was not really incongruous, for the long winter imposed a lonely hibernation upon the peasant. Imperial history flowed past the peasants of Rossem. The trading ships might bring news in impatient spurts; occasionally new fugitives would arrive ?at one time, a relatively large group arrived in a body and remained ?and these usually had news of the Galaxy. It was then that the Rossemites learned of sweeping battles and decimated populations or of tyrannical emperors and rebellious viceroys. And they would sigh and shake their heads, and draw their fur collars closer about their bearded faces as they sat about the village square in the weak sun and philosophized on the evil of men. Then after a while, no trading ships arrived at all, and life grew harder. Supplies of foreign, soft food, of tobacco, of machinery stopped. Vague word from scraps gathered on the televisor brought increasingly disturbing news. And finally it spread that Trantor had been sacked. The great capital world of all the Galaxy, the splendid, storied, unapproachable and incomparable home of the emperors had been despoiled and ruined and brought to utter destruction. It was something inconceivable, and to many of the peasants of Rossem, scratching away at their fields, it might well seem that the end of the Galaxy was at hand. And then one day not unlike other days a ship arrived again. The old men of each village nodded wisely and lifted their old eyelids to whisper that thus it had been in their father's time ?but it wasn't, quite. This ship was not an Imperial ship. The glowing Spaceship-and-Sun of the Empire was missing from its prow. It was a stubby affair made of scraps of older ships ?and the men within called themselves soldiers of Tazenda. The peasants were confused. They had not heard of Tazenda, but they greeted the soldiers nevertheless in the traditional fashion of hospitality. The newcomers inquired closely as to the nature of the planet, the number of its inhabitants, the number of its cities ?a word mistaken by the peasants to mean "villages" to the confusion of all concerned ?its type of economy and so on. Other ships came and proclamations were issued all over the world that Tazenda was now the ruling world, that tax-collecting stations would be established girdling the equator ?the inhabited region ?that percentages of grain and furs according to certain numerical formulae would be collected annually. The Rossemites had blinked solemnly, uncertain of the word "taxes." When collection time came, many had paid, or had stood by in confusion while the uniformed, other-wordlings loaded the harvested corn and the pelts on to the broad ground-cars. Here and there indignant peasants banded together and brought out ancient hunting weapons ?but of this nothing ever came. Grumblingly they had disbanded when the men of Tazenda came and with dismay watched their hard struggle for existence become harder. But a new equilibrium was reached. The Tazendian governor lived dourly in the village of Gentri, from which all Rossemites were barred. He and the officials under him were dim otherworld beings that rarely impinged on the Rossemite ken. The tax-farmers, Rossemites in the employ of Tazenda, came periodically, but they were creatures of custom now ?and the peasant had learned how to hide his grain and drive his cattle into the forest, and refrain from having his hut appear too ostentatiously prosperous. Then with a dull, uncomprehending expression he would greet all sharp questioning as to his assets by merely pointing at what they could see. Even that grew less, and taxes decreased, almost as If Tazenda wearied of extorting pennies from such a world. Trading sprang up and perhaps Tazenda found that more profitable. The men of Rossem no longer received in exchange the polished creations of the Empire, but even Tazendian machines and Tazendian food was better than the native stuff. And there were clothes for the women of other than gray home-spun, which was a very important thing. So once again, Galactic history glided past peacefully enough, and the peasants scrabbIed life out of the hard soil. Narovi blew into his beard as he stepped out of his cottage. The first snows were sifting across the hard ground and the sky was a dull, overcast pink. He squinted carefully upward and decided that no real storm was in sight. He could travel to Gentri without much trouble and get rid of his surplus grain in return for enough canned foods to last the winter. He roared back through the door, which he opened a crack for the purpose: "Has the car been fed its fuel, yunker?" A voice shouted from within, and then Narovi's oldest son, his short, red beard not yet completely outgrown its boyish sparseness, joined him. "The car," he said, sullenly, "is fueled and rides well, but for the bad condition of the axles. For that I am of no blame. I have told you it needs expert repairs." The old man stepped back and surveyed his son through lowering eyebrows, then thrust his hairy chin outward: "And is the fault mine? Where and in what manner may I achieve expert repairs? Has the harvest then been anything but scanty for five years? Have my herds escaped the pest? Have the pelts climbed of themselves? "Narovi!" The well-known voice from within stopped him in mid-word. He grumbled, "Well, well ?and now your mother must insert herself into the affairs of a father and his son. Bring out the car, and see to it that the storage trailers are securely attached." He pounded his gloved hands together, and looked upward again. The dimly-ruddy clouds were gathering and the gray sky that showed in the rifts bore no warmth. The sun was hidden. He was at the point of looking away, when his dropping eyes caught and his finger almost automatically rose on high while his mouth fell open in a shout, in complete disregard of the cold air. "Wife," he called vigorously, "Old woman ?come here." An indignant head appeared at a window. The woman's eyes followed his finger, gaped. With a cry, she dashed down the wooden stairs, snatching up an old wrap and a square of linen as she went. She emerged with the linen wrapped insecurely over her head and ears, and the wrap dangling from her shoulders. She snuffled: "It is a ship from outer space." And Narovi remarked impatiently: "And what else could it be? We have visitors, old woman, visitors!" The ship was sinking slowly to a landing on the bare frozen field in the northern portions of Narovi's farm. "But what shall we do?" gasped the woman. "Can we offer these people hospitality? Is the dirt floor of our hovel to be theirs and the pickings of last week's hoecake?" "Shall they then go to our neighbors?" Narovi purpled past the crimson induced by the cold and his arms in their sleek fur covering lunged out and seized the woman's brawny shoulders. "Wife of my soul," he purred, "you will take the two chairs from our room downstairs; you will see that a fat youngling is slaughtered and roasted with tubers; you will bake a fresh hoecake. I go now to greet these men of power from outer space ... and ... and? He paused, placed his great cap awry, and scratched hesitantly. "Yes, I shall bring my jug of brewed grain as well. Hearty drink is pleasant." The woman's mouth had flapped idly during this speech. Nothing came out. And when that stage passed, it was only a discordant screech that issued. Narovi lifted a finger, "Old woman, what was it the village Elders said a se'nnight since? Eh? Stir your memory. The Elders went from farm to farm ?themselves! Imagine the importance of it! ?to ask us that should any ships from outer space land, they were to be informed immediately on the orders of the governor. "And now shall I not seize the opportunity to win into the good graces of those in power? Regard that ship. Have you ever seen its like? These men from the outer worlds are rich, great. The governor himself sends such urgent messages concerning them that the Elders walk from farm to farm in the cooling weather. Perhaps the message is sent throughout all Rossem that these men are greatly desired by the Lords of Tazenda ?and it is on my farm that they are landing." He fairly hopped for anxiety, "The proper hospitality now ?the mention of my name to the governor ?and what may not be ours?" His wife was suddenly aware of the cold biting through her thin house-clothing. She leaped towards the door, shouting over her shoulders, "Leave then quickly." But she was speaking to a man who was even then racing towards the segment of the horizon against which the ship sank. Neither the cold of the world, nor its bleak, empty spaces worried General Han Pritcher. Nor the poverty of their surroundings, nor the perspiring peasant himself. What did bother him was the question of the wisdom of their tactics? He and Channis were alone here. The ship, left in space, could take care of itself in ordinary circumstances, but still, he felt unsafe. It was Channis, of course, who was responsible for this move. He looked across at the young man and caught him winking cheerfully at the gap in the furred partition, in which a woman's peeping eyes and gaping mouth momentarily appeared. Channis, at least, seemed completely at ease. That fact Pritcher savored with a vinegary satisfaction. His game had not much longer to proceed exactly as he wished it. Yet, meanwhile their wrist ultrawave sender-receivers were their only connection with the ship. And then the peasant host smiled enormously and bobbed his head several times and said in a voice oily with respect, "Noble Lords, I crave leave to tell you that my eldest son ?a good, worthy lad whom my poverty prevents from educating as his wisdom deserves ?has informed me that the Elders will arrive soon. I trust your stay here has been as pleasant as my humble means ?for I am poverty-stricken, though a hard-working, honest, and humble farmer, as anyone here will tell you ?could afford." "Elders?" said Channis, lightly. "The chief men of the region here?" "So they are, Noble Lords, and honest, worthy men all of them, for our entire village is known throughout Rossem as a just and righteous spot ?though living is hard and the returns of the fields and forests meager. Perhaps you will mention to the Elders, Noble Lords, of my respect and honor for travelers and it may happen that they will request a new motor wagon for our household as the old one can scarcely creep and upon the remnant of it depends our livelihood." He looked humbly eager and Han Pritcher nodded with thee properly aloof condescension required of the role of "Noble, Lords" bestowed upon them. "A report of your hospitality shall reach the ears of your Elders." Pritcher seized the next moments of isolation to speak to the apparently half-sleeping Channis. "I am not particularly fond of this meeting of the Elders," he said. "Have you any thoughts on the subject?" Channis seemed surprised. "No. What worries you?" "It seems we have better things to do than to become conspicuous here.' Channis spoke hastily, in a low monotoned voice: "It may be necessary to risk becoming conspicuous in our next moves. We won't find the type of men we want, Pritcher, by simply reaching out a hand into a dark bag and groping. Men who rule by tricks of the mind need not necessarily be men in obvious power. In the first place, the psychologists of the Second Foundation are probably a very small minority of the total population, just as on your own First Foundation, the technicians and scientists formed a minority. The ordinary inhabitants are probably just that ?very ordinary. The psychologists may even be well hidden, and the men in the apparently ruling position, may honestly think they are the true masters. Our solution to that problem may be found here on this frozen lump of a planet." "I don't follow that aaaall." "Why, see here, it's obvious enough. Tazenda is probably a huge world of millions or hundreds of millions. How could we identify the psychologists among them and be able to report truly to the Mule that we have located the Second Foundation? But here, on this tiny peasant world and subject planet, an the Tazendian rulers, our host informs us, are concentrated in their chief village of Gentri. There may be only a few hundred of them there, Pritcher, and among them must be one or more of the men of the Second Foundation. We will go there eventually, but let us see the Elders first ?it's a logical step on the way." They drew apart easily, as their black-bearded host tumbled into the room again, obviously agitated. "Noble Lords, the Elders are arriving. I crave leave to beg you once more to mention a word, perhaps, on my behalf? He almost bent double in a paroxysm of fawning. "We shall certainly remember you," said Channis. "Are these your Elders?" They apparently were. There were three. One approached. He bowed with a dignified respect and said: "We are honored. Transportation has been provided, Respected sirs, and we hope for the pleasure of your company at our Meeting Hall." THIRD INTERLUDE The First Speaker gazed wistfully aaathe night sky. Wispy clouds scudded across the faint stargleams. Space looked actively hostile. It was cold and awful aaabest but now it contained that strange creature, the Mule, and the very content seemed to darken and thicken it into ominous threat. The meeting was over. It had not been long. There had been the doubts and questionings inspired by the difficult mathematical problem of dealing with a mental mutant of uncertain makeup. All the extreme permutations had had to be considered. Were they even yet certain? Somewhere in this region of space ?within reaching distance as Galactic spaces go ?was the Mule. What would he do? It was easy enough to handle his men. They reacted ?and were reacting ?according to plan. But what of the Mule himself? 第三章 二人与农夫   罗珊是一个位于银河边陲的世界。这种边陲世界通常是被银河历史忽略遗忘的,它们也从来不会多管闲事,招惹无数条件更好的行星注意。 在银河帝国的末期,只有几个政治犯住在这个荒芜的世界,此外,这个行星上有一座观测站,以及极少数的驻军,所以还不能算是无人之境。后来,动荡不安的凶年接踵而至,甚至在哈里•谢顿的年代之前,就有许多黎民百姓离开人口稠密的地带,迁徙到这个偏远而荒凉的世界。他们都是为了逃避连年的战乱,而且厌倦了永无止境的征伐,以及野心家为了毫无意义的皇位,彼此明争暗斗,不到几年就改朝换代的闹剧。 于是,在罗珊行星寒冷而荒芜的土地上,逐渐出现了几个小村落。罗珊的红太阳是一个小型的恒星,仿佛总是吝于多施舍一点光和热。因此一年之中,有长达九个月的时间,这个世界都飘着稀落的雪花。在这些冰封的月份中,当地耐寒的作物全都躲在土壤中冬眠。等到太阳的辐射好不容易重新出现,温度升到接近华氏五十度时,它们才会以近乎疯狂的速度,赶紧生长迅速成熟。 本地有一种类似山羊的小型动物,总是用它们长了三个蹄的细腿,踢开草原上薄薄的积雪,啃啮着埋在积雪之下的小草。 罗珊居民的面包与乳品就是由此而来,而当他们舍得杀掉一头动物时,甚至还有肉可吃。在这个行星的赤道地带,充满危机的森林占据了一半面积。这些分布不均的森林,为居民提供了质料坚实、纹理细致的木材,成为他们盖房子的最佳材料。这些木料,以及一些毛皮与矿物,甚至还能外销到其他世界。早期,帝国的太空商船会不定时来到此地,用农业机械、核能暖炉甚至电视机,与当地居民交换那些土产。电视机是绝对不可或缺的,因为每当漫长的冬季来临,农民们就必须整天待在家中,一步都不能出去。 帝国的历史就这样从罗珊农民的头上流逝,太空商船偶尔会突然带来一些新消息,不时也会有一些新的难民到达此地。其中有一次,一大群的难民集体涌至,并且从此定居下来。每一个新来的难民,或多或少都知道一些银河最新的时势。 罗珊人就是如此获悉外界的变动——席卷银河的战事、大规模的屠杀,以及暴虐的皇帝与叛乱的总督。每当他们聚集在村落的广场前,享受微弱阳光带来的一丝暖意时,总会不自禁地摇头叹息,将毛皮领拉到长满大胡子的脸旁,你一言、我一语地批判着人性的邪恶。 后来,有好长一段时间没有太空商船再来,因而生活变得更为艰苦。原本依靠进口的烟草、农机,以及可口柔软的食物都没了,只有电视机的超波频带上,偶尔还会传来零星模糊的消息,让他们知道局势越来越不稳定。终于,川陀被大肆劫掠的消息传了开来——这个全银河最伟大的首都世界,这个辉煌、传奇、不可侵犯、壮丽无匹的首都,竟然也被蹂躏成为一片废墟。 这种事情实在令人难以置信。对许多在贫瘠的土地上挣饭吃的罗珊农民而言,银河末日似乎已经近在眼前。 不知又过了多少年月,在某个完全平凡无奇的日子,又有一艘星舰来到罗珊。各村的老者都自以为是地点着头,扬起他们老迈的眼睑窃窃私语,说这种事情在他们父亲的时代常发生——不过,事实却不尽然。 因为这艘星舰并非属于帝国,舰首少了帝国特有的“星舰与太阳”标志。它的形状既粗又短,是由许多老旧船舰的残骸拼装而成。而从星舰步出的那些人,则自称是达辛德的战士。 农民们都傻了眼,他们全都没有听说过达辛德,然而,他们仍旧以传统的待客之道欢迎这些战士。这些陌生人问了许多详细的问题——诸如这个行星的自然条件、居民的人数、有多少城市(不过农民们把“城市”误以为是指“村落”,弄得彼此都糊里糊涂),以及经济形态等等。 接着又有许多艘星舰登陆此地,并且对整个世界宣布,达辛德已经成为这个行星的统治者。在住人的赤道地带上,将要设立许多征税站,每年都要按照某些既定的公式,向农民征收百分之若干的谷物与毛皮。 罗珊人却表情严肃地眨着眼睛,搞不清楚“税”究竟是什么东西。不过到了征税的日子,很多人还是照付了。或者应该说,全都茫然地站在一旁,眼睁睁地看着穿制服的异邦人,将他们收获的玉米与毛皮搬到大车上载走。 于是,各地都有愤怒的农民组织起来,拿出古时的狩猎武器——可是始终没有任何作为。当达辛德的税务员再度来临时,他们只好心不甘、情不愿地一哄而散,眼看艰苦的生活变得更加艰苦,却一点办法也没有。 但是过不了多久,出现了一种新的生态平衡。达辛德的总督将原来住在绅士村的罗珊人赶走,自己住进那里,过着深居简出的日子。这位总督与他的手下都很少与当地人接触,因此并不惹人注意。现在,征税的工作已经委托某些罗珊人代为执行,那些本地的税务员会定期到各村各户访问——不过大家对他们的行踪渐渐摸熟了,而且农民们也学精了,知道应该如何隐藏收获的谷物,何时应该将家畜赶到森林去,并且故意不让房舍显得太华丽。当税务员来访时,不论问到任何有关资产的问题,他们都会露出一副呆然的表情,指着眼前可见的那么一点点。 后来连这种情况都很少再发生,税金也自动减少了。仿佛达辛德已懒得从这个贫穷的世界上,捞取那么一点少得可怜的油水。 相对地,贸易活动却越来越兴盛,可能是因为达辛德发现如此更有利可图。虽然帝国的精美制品再也没有出现过,不过达辛德的机械与食物仍然比本地的好得多。此外,达辛德人还带来许多妇女的服饰,它们远比手织的灰色布料漂亮,不用说自然是极受欢迎。 就是这样,银河的历史再次平静地溜过。日复一日,年复一年,农民们依旧从贫瘠坚硬的土地中挣饭吃。 纳若维刚走出他的农舍,就忍不住从胡子中吁出一口气来。第一场雪已经飘落在坚硬的地面,天空则布满了阴沉的粉红色云层。他斜着眼仔细望向天空,确定一时之间还不会有风暴,这代表他可以顺利到达绅士村。他要到那里去卖掉过剩的谷物,换回一些罐头食品准备过冬。 他将大门拉开一道缝,对着屋内大声吼道:“车子喂饱了没有,小子?” 屋内立刻传出高声的答应,然后纳若维的大儿子走了出来。他的红色短胡须还没有长满,脸上带着几分稚气。 他以满腹委屈的口气说:“车子的燃料加满了,除了车轴的情况不妙之外,其他各处都还算好。那个毛病修不好不能怪我,我已经告诉过你,那要找专家来修理才行。” 纳若维向后退了一步,皱着眉头打量他的儿子,然后将长满胡须的下巴向前一伸,说道:“这难道是我的错吗?你要我到哪里去,又怎么去找专家来修理?接连五年歉收你知不知道?哪一年没有几头畜牲发瘟?毛皮又什么时候涨过价……” “纳若维!”屋里响起了一个熟悉的声音,将他的话拦腰斩断。他一肚子不高兴地喃喃说道:“你看,你看——你妈又要插手咱们父子之间的事了。把车子开出来,要确定载货拖车连接得牢靠。” 他伸出戴着手套的双手,用力互拍了一下,然后又抬起头来。朦胧的红色云朵渐渐聚集,云缝中露出的灰色天空没有一丝暖意,太阳则根本不知道躲到哪去了。 当他正准备将视线移开时,眼睛却突然僵住了,手指头不知不觉就向上指,同时张大嘴巴拼命大叫,根本忘记了空气冷得要命。 “老伴,”他使劲大喊:“老太婆——赶快出来。” 一个气乎乎的脸孔马上出现在窗后,眼睛顺着他所指的方向望过去,然后嘴巴就再也合不拢了。她大叫一声,立刻沿着木梯飞奔而下,沿途顺手抓了一条旧围巾与一方亚麻布。等到她出现在门口时,已经将围巾披挂在肩膀上,亚麻布则松垮垮地包着头顶和耳朵。 “那是外太空来的星舰。”她以充满鼻音的声音说。 纳若维不耐烦地回答:“还会是什么别的东西吗?有远客来我们家了,老太婆,有客人来了!” 那艘星舰缓缓地下降,终于在一片寸草不生的冻土上着陆,位置是在纳若维农场的北侧。 “可是我们应该做些什么?”女人喘着气问:“我们可以好好招待他们吗?要让他们睡我们家的肮脏地板吗?要请他们吃上星期剩下的玉米饼吗?” “难道你想把他们赶到邻家去?”纳若维的脸庞已经冻得由红转紫。他将双臂从光滑的毛皮中伸出来,紧紧抓住了女人结实的肩膀。 “我的好老婆,”他兴奋得话都说不太清楚:“你去从我们的房间拿两把椅子到楼下来,再去宰一头肥肥的小牲口,跟薯类一块烤熟,然后还要烘一张新鲜的玉米饼。我现在就去迎接那些外太空来的大人物……还有……还有……” 他顿了一顿,将头上的大帽子推开一些,犹豫地搔了搔头,才接着说道:“对了,我还要把我酿的那坛酒也带着,跟他们痛痛快快喝个够。” 当纳若维在发号施令之际,女人的嘴巴傻愣愣地不停抖动着,可是却没有发出任何声音。等到纳若维说完之后,她才发出一声刺耳的尖叫。 纳若维举起一根手指头说:“老太婆,村里的长老一周前是怎么说的?啊?动动脑筋。长老们亲自到各家农场拜访,亲自拜访!你想想看这代表有多么重要!他们是来知会我们,如果发现任何外太空来的船舰降落,就要立刻通知他们,这是总督的命令!” “现在,我难道不应该趁这个机会,在这些大人物心中留下一点好印象吗?看看那艘星舰,你以前见过这种样子的吗?那些外太空来的人一定既富且贵。为了迎接他们,总督亲自下达紧急指令,长老们在这么冷的天气逐个农场捎信,也许整个罗珊都接到了通知,说这些人是达辛德领主们期待的大人物。现在,他们竟然降落在我的农场了!” 他简直兴奋得手舞足蹈:“现在我们好好招待他们,他们就会向总督提起我的名字,这样一来,我们有什么得不到的?” 直到这时,纳若维太大才感觉到刺骨的寒气钻进她的薄衫内。她赶紧一个箭步跳回门口,同时大吼了一声:“那你还不赶快去!” 不过纳若维不等她说出这句话,就已经开始拔腿狂奔,朝星舰降落的方向跑了过去。 汉•普利吉将军对于这个世界的酷寒、荒凉、空旷、贫瘠都毫不担心。面前这位满头大汗的农夫,也没有为他带来丝毫的威胁感。 真正令他烦恼的问题,是他们这个战术究竟是否明智。因为他与程尼斯两个人只身来到此地,根本可说是孤立无援。 他们的星舰已经再度升空,在普通的情况下,星舰应该有足够的力量自卫,可是他仍旧有一种不安全的感觉。当然,这次的行动程尼斯要负全责。他向这个年轻人望过去,发现他正朝一个毛皮帐幕裂缝处顽皮地眨着眼。原来那里有一对女人的眼睛在向外窥探,还能瞧见一张合不拢的嘴巴。 程尼斯似乎显得完全不在意。普利吉对这个事实感到有些幸灾乐祸,因为他的游戏一定很快就要碰壁。可是无论如何,如今他们与星舰的惟一联系,就只剩下手腕上所戴的通讯装置。 这位农场主人对他们拼命地傻笑,不停地鞠躬哈腰,以油腔滑调、谄媚无比的口气说道:“尊贵的大爷,请恕我冒昧地向您报告。我的大儿子刚才告诉我,说长老们很快就会到了。我的大儿子是个优秀杰出的青年,可是因为我太穷了,没法子让他接受足够的教育。我相信您们在这里的这段短短时间,一定会对我竭尽所能的招待非常满意。我虽然很穷,却是一个勤奋、诚实又谦逊的农夫。您可以问这里的每一个人,他们都一定会这么说的。” “长老?”程尼斯马上顺口问道:“是这个地区德高望重的人物吗?” “他们的确是的,尊贵的大爷,而且他们也都是诚实而杰出的人物。因为整个罗珊都知道,我们这个村子是个正直又规矩的好地方——虽然生活艰苦,田地和森林里的收成都不好。也许您可以跟长老提一下,尊贵的大爷,提一下我对来访的客人尊重和敬意。这样的话,他们也许就会帮我申请一辆新的货车。因为我们现有的这辆老爷车几乎爬不动了,可是全家的生计还都得靠它维持。”他露出了低声下气的渴望神色。 为了符合加诸他们身上的“尊贵的大爷”这个称谓,汉•普利吉故意端起架子,轻轻点了一下头。 “有关你的待客之道,我保证一定会传到长老的耳里。” 纳若维离开后,普利吉乘机向显然有些心不在焉的程尼斯说:“对于和长老们见面这件事,我并不是很感兴趣。你又有什么想法?” 程尼斯似乎有些惊讶:“我没有什么想法。你在担心什么呢?” “与其在这里惹人起疑,我认为我们有更重要的事可做。” 程尼斯以低沉的语调,迅速说道:“我们接下来的行动即使会启人疑窦,也必须冒险试试。如果我们只是将手伸进一个黑布袋,上下左右乱摸一通,那绝对找不到我们想要找的人。那些依靠心灵力量统治世界的人,并不一定就是台面上的掌权者。事实上,第二基地的心理学家也许只占了整个人口的极少数,正如同在你们那个基地上,科学家和技术人员只是少数一样。普通的居民可能就是那个样子——那么普通。那些心理学家也许隐藏得很好,而表面上处于领导地位的人物,可能真的自以为是统治者。关于这问题的答案,或许可以在这个冰封的行星中找到。” “我完全听不懂你的话。” “啊,你想想,这实在相当明显。达辛德也许是一个庞大的世界,拥有几百万乃至于几亿的人口,我们要如何从这么多人当中,辨识出哪些是心理学家?又怎能就这样向骡报告,说我们已经找到了第二基地?可是在这里,这个农业世界,这个藩属行星,接待我们的这位农夫已经说过,此地所有的达辛德统治者,全都集中在那个绅士村。那里可能只有几百个人,普利吉,其中一定有一个或数个第二基地分子。我们终究要到那里去的,不过在此之前,让我们先见见长老——这是一个符合逻辑的程序。” 此时,满脸黑胡子的主人又慌忙走进来,显得兴奋万分,两人便赶紧若无其事地分开。 “尊贵的大爷,长老们已经到了,恕我再请求您一次,希望您能够为我美言一句……”他极尽谄媚之能事,几乎鞠了一个一百八十度的躬。 “我们当然会记得你的,”程尼斯说,“这些就是你们的长老吗?” 他们显然就是,而且总共来了三位。 其中一人向前走来,以充满威严的架势微微一欠身,然后说:“我们深感荣幸,交通工具已经准备好了,尊贵的阁下,希望您能移驾我们的集会厅一叙。 首席发言者心事重重地凝望着夜空,朦胧的天际不时有稀疏的云朵飞掠而过。亘古以来,太空总是显得冷漠而令人敬畏,如今看来更蕴涵着明显的敌意,因为其中出现了一个奇异的生物——骡。骡的存在,使得太空充满了凶恶的威胁。 会议已经结束了,整个过程并不长。在刚才的会议中,对于处理不可确定的精神突变种所引发的数学难题,发言者曾经提出许多质疑与问题。因为即使是那些极端的组合,也都必须要考虑得十分周全。 骡就在太空的某个角落——银河系中并不算遥远的某一处。但是他们真的能确定这一点吗?而骡将要做什么呢? 对付他的部下是件轻而易举的事,他们如今全都是计划中的棋子。 然而,要如何对付骡本人呢? Chapter 4 Two Men and the Elders The Elders of this particular region of Rossem were not exactly what one might have expected. They were not a mere extrapolation of the peasantry; older, more authoritative, less friendly. Not at all. The dignity that had marked them at first meeting had grown in impression till it had reached the mark of being their predominant characteristic. They sat about their oval table like so many grave and slow-moving thinkers. Most were a trifle past their physical prime, though the few who possessed beards wore them short and neatly arranged. Still, enough appeared younger than forty to make it quite obvious that "Elders" was a term of respect rather than entirely a literal description of age. The two from outer space were at the head of the table and in the solemn silence that accompanied a rather frugal meal that seemed ceremonious rather than nourishing, absorbed the new, contrasting atmosphere. After the meal and after one or two respectful remarks ?too short and simple to be called speeches ?had been made by those of the Elders apparently held most in esteem, an informality forced itself upon the assembly. It was as if the dignity of greeting foreign personages had finally given way to the amiable rustic qualities of curiosity and friendliness. They crowded around the two strangers and the flood of questions came. They asked if it were difficult to handle a spaceship, how many men were required for the job, if better motors could be made for their ground-cars, if it was true that it rarely snowed on other worlds as was said to be the case with Tazenda, how many people lived on their world, if it was as large as Tazenda, if it was far away, how their clothes were woven and what gave them the metallic shimmer, why they did not wear furs, if they shaved every day, what sort of stone that was in Pritcher's ring ?The list stretched out. And almost always the questions were addressed to Pritcher as though, as the elder, they automatically invested him with the greater authority. Pritcher found himself forced to answer at greater and greater length. It was like an immersion in a crowd of children. Their questions were those of utter and disarming wonder. Their eagerness to know was completely irresistible and would not be denied. Pritcher explained that spaceships were not difficult to handle and that crews varied with the size, from one to many, that the motors of their ground-cars were unknown in detail to him but could doubtless be improved, that the climates of worlds varied almost infinitely, that many hundreds of millions lived on his world but that it was far smaller and more insignificant than the great empire of Tazenda, that their clothes were woven of silicone plastics in which metallic luster was artificially produced by proper orientation of the surface molecules, and that they could be artificially heated so that furs were unnecessary, that they shaved every day, that the stone in his ring was an amethyst. The list stretched out. He found himself thawing to these naive provincials against his will. And always as he answered there was a rapid chatter among the Elders, as though they debated the information gained. It was difficult to follow these inner discussions of theirs for they lapsed into their own accented version of the universal Galactic language that, through long separation from the currents of living speech, had become archaic. Almost, one might say, their curt comments among themselves hovered on the edge of understanding, but just managed to elude the clutching tendrils of comprehension. Until finally Channis interrupted to say, "Good sirs, you must answer us for a while, for we are strangers and would be very much interested to know all we can of Tazenda." And what happened then was that a great silence fell and each of the hitherto voluble Elders grew silent. Their hands, which had been moving in such rapid and delicate accompaniment to their words as though to give them greater scope and varied shades of meaning, fell suddenly limp. They stared furtively at one another, apparently quite willing each to let the other have all the floor. Pritcher interposed quickly, "My companion asks this in friendliness, for the fame of Tazenda fills the Galaxy and we, of course, shall inform the governor of the loyalty and love of the Elders of Rossem." No sigh of relief was heard but faces brightened. An Elder stroked his beard with thumb and forefinger, straightening its slight curl with a gentle pressure, and said: "We are faithful servants of the Lords of Tazenda." Pritcher's annoyance at Channis' bald question subsided. It was apparent, at least, that the age that he had felt creeping over him of late had not yet deprived him of his own capacity for making smooth the blunders of others. He continued: "We do not know, in our far part of the universe, much of the past history of the Lords of Tazenda. We presume they have ruled benevolently here for a long time." The same Elder who spoke before, answered. In a soft, automatic way he had become spokesman. He said: "Not the grandfather of the oldest can recall a time in which the Lords were absent." "It has been a time of peace?" "It has been a time of peace!" He hesitated. "The governor is a strong and powerful Lord who would not hesitate to punish traitors. None of us are traitors, of course." "He has punished some in the past, I imagine, as they deserve." Again hesitation, "None here have ever been traitors, or our fathers or our fathers' fathers. But on other worlds, there have been such, and death followed for them quickly. It is not good to think of for we are humble men who are poor farmers and not concerned with matters of politics." The anxiety in his voice, the universal concern in the eyes of all of them was obvious. Pritcher said smoothly: "Could you inform us as to how we can arrange an audience with your governor." And instantly an element of sudden bewilderment entered the situation. For after a long moment, the elder said: "Why, did you not know? The governor will be here tomorrow. He has expected you. It has been a great honor for us. We ... we hope earnestly that you will report to him satisfactorily as to our loyalty to him." Pritcher's smile scarcely twitched. "Expected us?" The Elder looked wonderingly from one to the other. "Why ... it is now a week since we have been waiting for you." Their quarters were undoubtedly luxurious for the world. Pritcher had lived in worse. Channis showed nothing but indifference to externals. But there was an element of tension between them of a different nature than hitherto. Pritcher, felt the time approaching for a definite decision and yet there was still the desirability of additional waiting. To see the governor first would be to increase the gamble to dangerous dimensions and yet to win that gamble might multi-double the winnings. He felt a surge of anger at the slight crease between Channis' eyebrows, the delicate uncertainty with which the young man's lower lip presented itself to an upper tooth. He detested the useless play-acting and yearned for an end to it. He said: "We seem to be anticipated." 'Yes," said Channis, simply. "Just that? You have no contribution of greater pith to make. We come here and find that the governor expects us. Presumably we shall find from the governor that Tazenda itself expects us. Of what value then is our entire mission?" Channis looked up, without endeavoring to conceal the weary note in his voice: "To expect us is one thing; to know who we are and what we came for, is another." "Do you expect to conceal these things from men of the Second Foundation?" "Perhaps. Why not? Are you ready to throw your hand in? Suppose our ship was detected in space. Is it unusual for a realm to maintain frontier observation posts? Even if we were ordinary strangers, we would be of interest." "Sufficient interest for a governor to come to us rather than the reverse?' Channis shrugged: "We抣l have to meet that problem later. Let us see what this governor is like." Pritcher bared his teeth in a bloodless kind of scowl. The situation was becoming ridiculous. Channis proceeded with an artificial animation: "At least we know one thing. Tazenda is the Second Foundation or a million shreds of evidence are unanimously pointing the wrong way. How do you interpret the obvious terror in which these natives hold Tazenda? I see no signs of political domination. Their groups of Elders apparently meet freely and without interference of any sort. The taxation they speak of doesn't seem at all extensive to me or efficiently carried through. The natives speak much of poverty but seem sturdy and well-fed. The houses are uncouth and their villages rude, but are obviously adequate for the purpose. "In fact, the world fascinates me. I have never seen a more forbidding one, yet I am convinced there is no suffering among the population and that their uncomplicated lives manage to contain a well-balanced happiness lacking in the sophisticated populations of the advanced centers." "Are you an admirer of peasant virtues, then?" "The stars forbid." Channis seemed amused at the idea. "I merely point out the significance of all this. Apparently, Tazenda is an efficient administrator ?efficient in a sense far different from the efficiency of the old Empire or of the First Foundation, or even of our own union. All these have brought mechanical efficiency to their subjects at the cost of more intangible values. Tazenda brings happiness and sufficiency. Don't you see that the whole orientation of their domination is different? It is not physical, but psychological." "Really?" Pritcher, allowed himself irony. "And the terror with which the Elders spoke of the punishment of treason by these kind hearted psychologist administrators? How does that suit your thesis?" "Were they the objects of the punishment? They speak of punishment only of others. It is as if knowledge of punishment has been so well implanted in them that punishment itself need never be used. The proper mental attitudes are so inserted into their minds that I am certain that not a Tazendian soldier exists on the planet. Don't you see all this?" "I抣l see perhaps," said Pritcher, coldly, "when I see the governor. And what, by the way, if our mentalities are handled?" Channis replied with brutal contempt: "You should be accustomed to that." Pritcher whitened perceptibly, and, with an effort, turned away. They spoke to one another no more that day. It was in the silent windlessness of the frigid night, as he listened to the soft, sleeping motions of the other, that Pritcher silently adjusted his wrist-transmitter to the ultrawave region for which Channis' was unadjustable and, with noiseless touches of his fingernail, contacted the ship. The answer came in little periods of noiseless vibration that barely lifted themselves above the sensory threshold. Twice Pritcher asked: "Any communications at all yet?" Twice the answer came: "None. We wait always." He got out of bed. It was cold in the room and he pulled the furry blanket around him as he sat in the chair and stared out at the crowding stars so different in the brightness and complexity of their arrangement from the even fog of the Galactic Lens that dominated the night sky of his native Periphery. Somewhere there between the stars was the answer to the complications that overwhelmed him, and he felt the yearning for that solution to arrive and end things. For a moment he wondered again if the Mule were right ?if Conversion had robbed him of the firm sharp edge of self-reliance. Or was it simply age and the fluctuations of these last years? He didn't really care. He was tired. The governor of Rossem arrived with minor ostentation. His only companion was the uniformed man at the controls of the ground-car. The ground-car itself was of lush design but to Pritcher it appeared inefficient. It turned clumsily; more than once it apparently balked at what might have been a too-rapid change of gears. It was obvious at once from its design that it ran on chemical, and not on atomic, fuel. The Tazendian governor stepped softly on to the thin layer of snow and advanced between two lines of respectful Elders. He did not look at them but entered quickly. They followed after him. From the quarters assigned to them, the two men of the Mule's union watched. He ?the governor ?was thickset, rather stocky, short, unimpressive. But what of that? Pritcher cursed himself for a failure of nerve. His face, to be sure, remained icily calm. There was no humiliation before Channis ?but he knew very well that his blood pressure had heightened and his throat had become dry. It was not a case of physical fear. He was not one of those dull-witted, unimaginative men of nerveless meat who were too stupid ever to be afraid ?but physical fear he could account for and discount. But this was different. It was the other fear. He glanced quickly at Channis. The young man glanced idly at the nails of one hand and poked leisurely at some trifling unevenness. Something inside Pritcher became vastly indignant. What had Channis to fear of mental handling? Pritcher caught a mental breath and tried to think back. How had he been before the Mule had Converted him from the die-hard Democrat that he was. It was hard to remember. He could not place himself mentally. He could not break the clinging wires that bound him emotionally to the Mule. Intellectually, he could remember that he had once tried to assassinate the Mule but not for all the straining he could endure, could he remember his emotions at the time. That might be the self-defense of his own mind, however, for at the intuitive thought of what those emotions might have been ?not realizing the details, but merely comprehending the drift of it ?his stomach grew queasy. What if the governor tampered with his mind? What if the insubstantial mental tendrils of a Second Foundationer insinuated itself down the emotional crevices of his makeup and pulled them apart and rejoined them? There had been no sensation the first time. There had been no pain, no mental jar ?not even a feeling of discontinuity. He had always loved the Mule. If there had ever been a time long before ?as long before as five short years ?when he had thought he hadn't loved him, that he had hated him ?that was just a horrid illusion. The thought of that illusion embarrassed him. But there had been no pain. Would meeting the governor duplicate that? Would all that had gone before ?all his service for the Mule ?all his life's orientation ?join the hazy, other-life dream that held the word, Democracy. The Mule also a dream, and only to Tazenda, his loyalty? Sharply, he turned away. There was that strong desire to retch. And then Channis' voice clashed on his ear, "I think this iiiit, general." Pritcher turned again. An Elder had opened the door silently and stood with a dignified and calm respect upon the threshold. He said, "His Excellency, Governor of Rossem, in the name of the Lords of Tazenda, is pleased to present his permission for an audience and request your appearance before him." "Sure thing," and Channis tightened his belt with a jerk and adjusted a Rossemian hood over his head. Pritcher's jaw set. This was the beginning of the real gamble. The governor of Rossem was not of formidable appearance. For one thing, he was bareheaded, and his thinning hair, light brown, tending to gray, lent him mildness. His bony eye-ridges lowered at them, and his eyes, set in a fine network of surrounding wrinkles, seemed calculating, but his fresh-cropped chin was soft and small and, by the universal convention of followers of the pseudoscience of reading character by facial bony structure, seemed "weak." Pritcher, avoided the eyes and watched the chin. He didn't know whether that would be effective ?if anything would be. The governor's voice was high-pitched, indifferent: "Welcome to Tazenda. We greet you in peace. You have eaten?" His hand ?long fingers, gnarled veins ?waved almost regally at the U-shaped table. They bowed and sat down. The governor sat at the outer side of the base of the U, they on the inner; along both arms sat the double row of silent Elders. The governor spoke in short, abrupt sentences ?praising the food as Tazendian importations ?and it had indeed a quality different if, somehow, not so much better, than the rougher food of the Elders ?disparaging Rossemian weather, referring with an attempt at casualness to the intricacies of space travel. Channis talked little. Pritcher not at all. Then it was over. The small, stewed fruits were finished; the napkins used and discarded, and the governor leaned back. His small eyes sparkled. "I have inquired as to your ship. Naturally, I would like to see that it receives due care and overhaul. I am told its whereabouts are unknown." "True." Channis replied lightly. "We have left it in space. It is a large ship, suitable for long journeys in sometimes hostile regions, and we felt that landing it here might give rise to doubts as to our peaceful intentions. We preferred to land alone, unarmed." "A friendly act," commented the governor, without conviction. "A large ship, you say?" "Not a vessel of war, excellency." "Ha, hum. Where is it you come from?" "A small world of the Santanni sector, your excellency. It may be you are not aware of its existence for it lacks importance. We are interested in establishing trade relationships." "Trade, eh? And what have you to sell?' "Machines of all sorts, excellency. In return, food, wood, ores "Ha, hum." The governor seemed doubtful. "I know little these matters. Perhaps mutual profit may be arranged. Perhaps, after I have examined your credentials at length ?for much information will be required by my government before matters may proceed, you understand ?and after I have looked over your ship, it would be advisable for you to proceed to Tazenda." There was no answer to that, and the governor's attitude iced perceptibly. "It is necessary that I see your ship, however." Channis said distantly: "The ship, unfortunately, is undergoing repairs at the moment. If your excellency would not object giving us forty-eight hours, it will be at your service." "I am not accustomed to waiting." For the first time, Pritcher met the glare of the other, eye to eye, and his breath exploded softly inside him. For a moment, he had the sensation of drowning, but then his eyes tore away. Channis did not waver. He said: "The ship cannot be landed for forty-eight hours, excellency. We are here and unarmed. Can you doubt our honest intentions?" There was a long silence, and then the governor said gruffly, "Tell me of the world from which you come." That was all. It passed with that. There was no more unpleasantness. The governor, having fulfilled his official duty, apparently lost interest and the audience died a dull death. And when it was all over, Pritcher found himself back in their quarters and took stock of himself. Carefully ?holding his breath ?he "felt" his emotions. Certainly he seemed no different to himself, but would he feel any difference? Had he felt different after the Mule's Conversion? Had not everything seemed natural? As it should have been? He experimented. With cold purpose, he shouted inside the silent caverns of his mind, and the shout was, "The Second Foundation must be discovered and destroyed." And the emotion that accompanied it was honest hate. There was not as much as a hesitation involved in it. And then it was in his mind to substitute the word "Mule" for the phrase "Second Foundation" and his breath caught at the mere emotion and his tongue clogged. So far, good. But had he been handled otherwise ?more subtly? Had tiny changes been made? Changes that he couldn't detect because their very existence warped his judgment. There was no way to tell. But he still felt absolute loyalty to the Mule! If that were unchanged, nothing else really mattered. He turned his mind to action again. Channis was busy at his end of the room. Pritcher's thumbnail idled at his wrist communicator. And then at the response that came he felt a wave of relief surge over him and leave him weak. The quiet muscles of his face did not betray him, but inside he was shouting with joy ?and when Channis turned to face him, he knew that the farce was about over. FOURTH INTERLUDE The two Speakers passed each other on the road and one stopped the other. "I have word from the First Speaker." There was a half-apprehensive flicker in the other's eyes. "Intersection point?" "Yes! May we live to see the dawn!" 第四章 二人与长老   罗珊世界这个区域的长老们,形象与外人的想像完全不同。他们并不是较年长或较年老的农民,也不会显得权威而不甚友善。 完全不是那么回事。 初次见面时,他们总会令人留下相当有尊严的印象,让人了解到他们的地位是如何重要。 他们现在围坐在椭圆形长桌旁,像是许多严肃而动作迟缓的哲人。大多数人看来才刚刚步入中年,只有少数几位留着修剪整齐的短胡须;每个人显然都还不到四十岁。因此“长老”这个头衔其实只是一种尊称,并不完全是对年龄的描述。 从外太空来的那两位客人,如今正坐在上座与长老共餐。此时的气氛相当肃静,食物也十分简素,看来这只是一种仪式,而非真正的宴客。他们一面吃,一面体察着一种新的、对比强烈的气氛。 当他们吃完之后,几位显然最受敬重的长老说了一两句客套话——由于实在太短、太简单,所以不能称之为“致辞”。接着,正式而拘谨的气氛就不知不觉消失无踪。 欢迎外来访客而刻意做作出来的尊严,仿佛终于功成身退。长老们开始对客人表现出亲切与好奇,将乡下人的敦厚淳朴表露无遗。 他们围在两位异邦人身边,提出了一个接一个的问题。 他们的问题五花八门,诸如:驾驶太空船或星舰是否很困难?总共需要多少人手?有没有可能帮他们的车辆换装较好的发动机?听说达辛德很少下雪,其他世界是不是也都这样?他们的世界住了多少人?是不是和达辛德一般大?是不是非常遥远?他们穿的衣服布料是如何织成的?为何会有金属光泽?他们为什么不穿毛皮? 他们是不是每天都刮脸?普利吉手上戴的戒指是什么矿物……以及其他数不胜数的怪问题。 所有的问题几乎都是向普利吉提出来的,好像由于他年纪较大,他们就自然而然地认为他较有权威。普利吉发觉自己不得不回答得越来越详细,好像被一群小孩子包围一般。那些问题全然出于毫无心机的好奇,他们热切的求知欲实在令人无法拒绝。 于是,普利吉耐着性子,逐一解答他们的问题:驾驶船舰并不困难,所需的人员决定于船舰的大小,从一个人到很多人都有可能。自己对此地车辆所用的发动机并不熟悉,但想必一定可以改进。每个世界的气候都不尽相同。他们的世界上住了几亿人,不过与伟大的达辛德“帝国”相比,根本就微不足道:他们的确来自很远的地方。他们的衣服是用矽胶纺织成的,布料表面经过特殊加工,使得表面分子具有固定的排列方向,因此会产生金属光泽。由于衣服附有加热装置,因此他们不用再穿毛皮。他们的确每天都刮胡子,他的戒指上面镶的是紫水晶……不知不觉间,普利吉发现自己竟然和这些乡下人打成一片,而这根本就违反了他的本意。 每当他回答一个问题之后,必定会引起长老们一阵迅速的交头接耳,好像是在讨论这些最新的资讯一样。外人很难听得懂他们彼此间的讨论,因为此时他们又恢复了特有的口音。虽然他们讲的仍是通用的银河标准语,但是由于长期未与现代语言交流,因而显得古老而过时。 或许可以这样说,他们互相之间的简短评论,仅仅能让外人知道他们在说些什么,却能避免外人了解他们交谈的真正内容。 后来,程尼斯实在忍不住了,遂打岔道:“各位好先生,你们必须花点时间来回答我们的问题。别忘了我们可是异邦人,而且极有兴趣想知道达辛德的一切。” 这句话才一出口,全场立刻一片鸦雀无声,刚才一直喋喋不休的长老们,一下子全都紧紧闭上嘴巴。他们的手原本都在拼命地不断挥舞,仿佛是为了加强说话的语气,现在却突然都垂了下来。他们心虚地互相望着,显然都非常希望别人能够发言。 普利吉赶快抢着说:“我的同伴这么问绝对没有恶意,达辛德的盛名早已传遍整个银河,所以我们才会慕名而来。等我们见到总督之后,当然会向他报告罗珊长老们的忠诚与敬爱。” 虽然没有听到任何松了一口气的吁声,但至少长老们的脸色都缓和下来。一位长老用两根指头缓缓抚着胡须,将卷曲的部分轻轻压平,然后语重心长地说:“我们都是达辛德领主们的忠实仆人。” 直到这时,普利吉才终于原谅了程尼斯的莽撞言语。虽然他最近感觉自己已经上了年纪,却显然还没有丧失打圆场的能力。 于是他继续说道:“我们来自极为遥远的地方,对达辛德过去的历史并不太清楚。相信长久以来,那些领主都是以开明的方式治理此地。” 刚才开口的那位长老,俨然已经自动成了发言人。他又回答道:“此地最老的老者,他的祖父也不记得领主们不存在的时代。” “过去是不是一直都很太平呢?” “过去一直都很太平。”他迟疑了一下,又说:“总督是位精明强悍的领主,对于惩处叛徒绝对没有丝毫犹豫。当然,我们全都不是叛徒。” “我想,他在过去一定曾经惩治过一些意图不轨的人,而那些叛徒个个都是罪有应得。” 那长老再度犹豫了一下,然后回答:“此地从来没有出过任何叛徒,我们的父辈与祖辈也都没有。可是在其他的世界却曾经出现过,那些人当然很快就被处死。我们对于这些事情毫无兴趣,因为我们只是卑微贫苦的农民,对政治问题一点也不关心。” 他的声音中透着明显的焦虑,而其他长老的眼中都流露出不安的眼神。 普利吉便用平稳的口气问道:“请告诉我们,要如何才能晋见你们的总督?” 这个问题立刻又令长老们讶异不已。 过了好一阵子,原先那名长老才又开口说道:“啊,你们不知道吗?总督大人明天就会驾临此地,他正在等你们,这是我们绝大的荣幸。我们……我们衷心地希望,你们能向他报告,说我们对他绝对忠诚。” 普利吉脸上的笑容几乎僵住了,他惊叫道:“在等我们?” 那长老露出茫然的目光,轮流瞪视着面前的两个异邦人,然后说:“对啊……我们已经等了你们整整一周了。” 罗珊人为他们准备的房间,以这个世界的标准而言,无疑算是十分豪华的上房。普利吉以前曾经住过更差的地方,程尼斯则对外界的一切都显得漠不关心。 然而,在他们两人之间,却出现了一种前所未有的紧张关系。普利吉感到需要做出决断的时刻越来越近,可是却又希望能够再拖延一段时间。如果他们先去见总督的话,会将这场赌博推到危险的边缘,可是如果真的能够赢,收获却会比原本预期的丰硕无数倍。他看到程尼斯轻轻皱起眉头,牙齿咬着下唇,显出有些不安的表隋,心中就冒起一股无名火。他已经厌倦了这种无聊的闹剧,希望能够赶快将这一切结束。 他对程尼斯说:“我们的行动似乎被人料中了。” “没错。”程尼斯回答得很干脆。 “你就只会说‘没错’吗?你难道不能做一点更有用的建议?我们临时起意来这里,却发现那个总督竟然在等我们。很可能当我们见到总督之后,他会说其实等我们的人在达辛德上。这样的话,我们跑这一趟还有什么用处?” 程尼斯抬起头来:“他们只是在等我们,不一定就代表知道我们是什么人,还有我们到此地来的目的。”他的口气毫不掩饰不耐烦的情绪。 “你认为这些事情能够瞒得过第二基地吗?” “也许吧,难道不可能吗?你已经准备放弃了吗?这也许只是因为我们还在太空时,他们就发现了我们的星舰。一个国家在边境设立前哨观测站,又有什么大不了的?即使我们只是普通的异邦人,他们一样会对我们感兴趣。” “哪有那么大的兴趣能让总督亲自前来探望我们,而不等我们去晋见他?” 程尼斯耸耸肩:“我们暂且不讨论这个问题,先让我们看看总督究竟是何方神圣。” 普利吉整张脸都垮了下来,看起来一副泄气的模样。他感到整个情况变得荒谬无比。 程尼斯继续故作轻松地说道:“至少我们现在知道一件事——达辛德正是第二基地,否则的话,几百万件大大小小的证据全都指错了方向。这些本地人显得对达辛德恐惧万分,这点你要如何解释?我根本看不出有政治压迫的迹象,他们的长老们显然可以自由集会,不会受到任何形式的干扰。他们提到的税赋,我认为一点都不苛刻,也根本没有彻底执行。这里人人都在喊穷,然而却个个身强体壮,没有一个面露饥色。虽然他们的房舍家徒四壁,村庄盖得也颇为简陋,可是显然都足敷需要。” “事实上,这个世界简直令我着迷。我从来没见过比这儿更难理解的地方,可是我能确定人民都没有受苦,他们单纯的生活刚好提供了和谐的快乐。在那些科技进步的世界上,那些精明世故的人群中,完全找不到这种心灵上的快乐。” “这么说,你对田园生活充满向往了。” “但是我可没那个命,”程尼斯似乎对这个想法很感兴趣,“我只是指出这些现象的重要性。达辛德人很显然是有效率的管理者——这种效率与旧帝国或第一基地的完全不同,甚至和我们的联邦也不一样。其他的体制都将机械式的效率强加在子民身上,因而牺牲了一些更可贵的无形价值,达辛德人却为他们同时带来快乐与富足。你难道看不出来,他们的统治方式完全不同吗?这不是物理式的,而是心理式的管理统治。” “真的吗?”普利吉故意用嘲讽的口气说:“那么长老们提到的对叛徒的惩罚,那些令他们恐惧万分的惩罚,竟然是由仁慈的心理学家所执行的?这一点你又要如何自圆其说?” “他们自己曾经受过惩罚吗?他们只是说别人受到过。由于恐惧已经深植在他们心中,所以真正的惩罚反倒从来没有必要。这种精神倾向早已在他们的心灵生根了,所以我可以确定,这个星球上根本没有一个达辛德军人。你难道看不出其中的意义吗?” “也许等我见到总督以后,”普利吉以冷淡的口气答道,“我就能看出来了。对了,有没有可能是我们的精神被控制了呢?” 程尼斯以惹人厌的轻蔑口气回答道:“这种事你应该早就习惯了。” 普利吉的脸色立刻变得煞白,使尽全身力气才转过身去。当天,他们两人再也没有说过一句话。 那是一个静寂无风的寒夜。 普利吉听到程尼斯发出轻缓的鼾声之后,便悄悄地调整着手腕上的发射器,将它调到程尼斯接收不到的超波频带。然后便用指甲轻巧地敲击着发报键,开始与太空中的星舰联络。 不久之后,他就收到了星舰的回答。那是一阵无声无息的振荡,仅仅刚好超过人体触觉的阀值。 普利吉连续问了两次:“有没有收到任何信息?” 而两次的回答都一样:“没有,我们在全天候监听。” 普利吉从床上爬起来,房间中十分寒冷,他顺手抓了一条毛皮毯裹在身上。然后他坐到椅子上,抬头望着满天的繁星。此地的星空明亮而繁复,与他熟悉的很不相同。在他的故乡——银河外缘,夜空几乎全被朦胧的银河透镜所笼罩。 那个困扰他多年的问题,解答一定存在于群星间的某个角落。他衷心期望答案早日降临,将这烦人的一切完全结束。 此时,他突然又对骡的话产生怀疑——真的是“回转”令他丧失了坚强的信心与决心吗?抑或是越来越大的年岁,与过去几年的波折在作祟呢? 不过他对这个问题的答案并不在乎。 他感到很疲倦了。 罗珊总督轻车简从地到来,几乎没有什么排场。他身边惟一的随从,就是那个为他驾车的军人。 他的座车设计得很花巧,但是在普利吉看来,性能却一点也不好。它转弯时动作笨拙,有好几次可能是由于换档太急,车子突然之间就走不动了。此外,普利吉还可以从它的外形,一眼就看出它使用的是化学燃料,绝对不是核能。 达辛德籍的总督步出座车,轻轻踏着薄薄的积雪,从列队欢迎的两排长老之间向前走去。他根本没有朝两边看上一眼,就快步走进房舍,长老们尾随其后鱼贯跟了进去。 骡所派出的那两名手下,此时正从自己的房间向外窥探。他们发现那位总督的外形矮胖,虽然体格还算结实,不过无论如何毫不起眼。 可是这又怎么样呢? 普利吉暗中埋怨自己的神经太过紧张。事实上,他的表情仍是一片严霜,并没有在程尼斯的面前丢脸。可是他也清楚地知道,此刻自己的血压已经升高,喉咙也感到异常的干燥。 这并不是一种肉体上的恐惧。他并非一个愚鲁麻木的人,当然不会笨得连害怕都不懂。对于肉体上的恐惧,他有足够的勇气应付,有许多办法能够压抑。 但是如今的情况完全不同,他现在面临的是另一种恐惧。 他迅速瞥了程尼斯一眼,却发现他正若无其事地端详着自己的指甲,悠闲地将某些不整齐的地方锉平。 普利吉心中突然冒出一股强烈的怒意,程尼斯又怎么会害怕精神被控制呢? 普利吉集中精神,试图回溯自己过去的历史…… 在骡尚未使他回转之前,在他还是一名死硬派的民主分子时,他当时的心境究竟如何?这实在很难回想。他无法控制自己的精神,无法挣脱将他的情感缚在骡身上的那些无形黏丝。他的理智还记得自己曾经试图暗杀骡,但是任凭他绞尽脑汁,也想不起当时的情绪。然而,这种现象也许是他的心灵所表现的自卫行为,因为当他刚想重温那些情绪,只不过才想到了当时的心理倾向,根本还没体会到任何实质内容,他就已经开始觉得反胃恶心。 会不会是那个总督在干扰他的心灵? 是不是第二基地伸出的无形精神触须,已经迂回地钻进了他的心灵隙缝,将他固有的情感扯散,又重新加以组合…… 当时一点感觉也没有,没有肉体上的痛苦,也没有精神上的折磨,甚至连一点过程都感觉不到。他始终对骡充满了敬爱,如果在遥远的过去——比短短的五年更长久的一段时间——他的心中不曾存在对骡的敬爱,甚至还曾憎恨过骡,那也一定只是可恶的幻觉。光是想到这种幻觉,就足以使他感到羞愧不已。 可是,从来就不曾有过痛苦。 与总督会面之后,这一切是否会重演呢?过去的一切——他为骡效忠的那些日子、他这一辈子的人生方向,将会与那个信守民主的模糊梦境融为一体吗?会不会连骡都是一场梦,而他自始至终效忠的对象只有达辛德……他猛然转过身去。 一阵强烈的恶心涌了上来。 然后,程尼斯的声音在他的耳边响起:“我想这回就是了,将军。” 普利吉再度转身,看到一位长老轻轻将门打开,恭敬而严肃地站在门槛处。 他说:“达辛德领主的代表,驻罗珊总督阁下,乐意允许你们的晋见,请两位跟我来。” “当然,”程尼斯顺手拉了一下皮带,还调整了一下头上戴的罗珊式头巾。 普利吉咬紧牙根,真正的赌博立刻就要开始了。 罗珊总督看起来并不是个狠角色,这主要是因为他没有戴帽子,稀疏的头发已有部分由淡棕色褪为灰白,为他增添了几许和气。他眯着眼睛,双眼被细密的皱纹包围,看起来相当精明。刚刚刮过的下巴轮廓平缓而不显著,根据面相学这门伪科学的信徒公认的说法,那应该是属于一个弱者的下巴。 普利吉避开了那双眼睛,凝视着他的下巴。他不知道这样做是否有效——如果真的会有什么事发生的话。 总督的声音听来尖细而冷淡:“欢迎来到达辛德,我们以平和之心欢迎两位,你们用过餐了吗?” 两位发言者在路上擦肩而过,其中一位叫住了另一位。 “我带来了首席发言者的口信。” 对方的眼中闪着会意的光芒,问道:“交会点?” “是的!希望我们还能看到明天的日出。” Chapter 5 One Man and the Mule There was no sign in any of Channis' actions that he was aware of any subtle change in the attitude of Pritcher, and in their relations to each other. He leaned back on the hard wooden bench and spread-eagled his feet out in front of him. "What did you make of the governor?" Pritcher shrugged: "Nothing at all. He certainly seemed no mental genius to me. A very poor specimen of the Second Foundation, if that's what he was supposed to be." "I don't think he was, you know. I'm not sure what to make of it. Suppose you were a Second Foundationer," Channis grew thoughtful, "what would you do? Suppose you had an idea of our purpose here. How would you handle us?" "Conversion, of course." "Like the Mule?" Channis looked up, sharply. "Would we know if they had converted us? I wonder?And what if they were simply psychologists, but very clever ones." "In that case, I'd have us killed rather quickly." "And our ship? No." Channis wagged a forefinger. "We're playing a bluff, Pritcher, old man. It can only be a bluff. Even if they have emotional control down pat, we ?you and I ?are only fronts. It's the Mule they must fight, and they're being just as careful of us as we are of them. I'm assuming that they know who we are." Pritcher, stared coldly: "What do you intend doing?" "Wait." The word was bitten off. "Let them come to us. They're worried, maybe about the ship, but probably about the Mule. They bluffed with the governor. It didn't work. We stayed pat. The next person they'll send will be a Second Foundationer, and he抣l propose a deal of some sort." "And then?" "And then we make the deal." "I don't think so." "Because you think it will double-cross the Mule? It won't." "No, the Mule could handle your double-crosses, any you could invent. But I still don't think so." "Because you think then we couldn't double-cross the Foundationers?" "Perhaps not. But that抯 not the reason." Channis let his glance drop to what the other held in his fist, and said grimly: "You mean that's the reason." Pritcher cradled his blaster, "That's right. You are under arrest." "Why?" "For treason to the First Citizen of the union." Channis' lips hardened upon one another: "What's going on?" "Treason! As I said. And correction of the matter, on my part." "Your proof? Or evidence, assumptions, daydreams? Are you mad?" "No. Are you? Do you think the Mule sends out unweaned youngsters on ridiculous swashbuckling missions for nothing? It was queer to me at the time. But I wasted time in doubting myself. Why should he send you? Because you smile and dress well? Because you're twenty-eight." "Perhaps because I can be trusted. Or aren't you in the market for logical reasons?" "Or perhaps because you can't be trusted. Which is logical enough, as it turns out." "Are we matching paradoxes, or is this all a word game to see who can say the least in the most words?" And the blaster advanced, with Pritcher after it. He stood erect before the younger man: "Stand up!" Channis did so, in no particular hurry, and felt the muzzle of the blaster touch his belt with no shrinking of the stomach muscles. Pritcher said: "What the Mule wanted was to find the Second Foundation. He had failed and I had failed, and the secret that neither of us can find is a well-hidden one. So there was one outstanding possibility left ?and that was to find a seeker who ready knew the hiding-place." "Is that I?" "Apparently it was. I didn't know then, of course, but though my mind must be slowing, it still points in the right direction. How easily we found Star's End! How miraculously you examined the correct Field Region of the Lens from among an infinite number of possibilties! And having done so, how nicely we observe just the correct point for observation! You clumsy fool! Did you so underestimate me that no combination of impossible fortuties struck you as being too much for me to swallow?" "You mean I've been too successful?" "Too successful by half for any loyal man." "Because the standards of success you set me were so low?" And the blaster prodded, though in the face that confront Channis only the cold glitter of the eyes betrayed the growing anger: "Because you are in the pay of the Second Foundation." "Pay?"?infinite contempt. "Prove that." "Or under the mental influence." "Without the Mule's knowledge? Ridiculous." "With the Mule's knowledge. Exactly my point, my you dullard. With the Mule's knowledge. Do you suppose else that you would be given a ship to play with? You led us to the Second Foundation as you were supposed to do." "I thresh a kernel of something or other out of this immensity of chaff. May I ask why I'm supposed to be doing all this? If were a traitor, why should I lead you to the Second Foundation? Why not hither and yon through the Galaxy, skipping gaily, finding no more than you ever did?' "For the sake of the ship. And because the men of the Second Foundation quite obviously need atomic warfare for self-defense." 'You'll have to do better than that. One ship won't mean thing to them, and if they think they'll learn science from it a build atomic power plants next year, they are very, very simple Second Foundationers, indeed. On the order of simplicity as yourself, I should say." "You will have the opportunity to explain that to the Mule." "We're going back to Kalgan?" "On the contrary. We're staying here. And the Mule will join us in fifteen minutes ?more or less. Do you think he hasn't followed us, my sharp-witted, nimble-minded lump of self-admiration? You have played the decoy well in reverse. You may not have led our victims to us, but you have certainly led us to our victims." "May I sit down," said Channis, "and explain something to you in picture drawings? Please." "You will remain standing." At that, I can say it as well standing. You think the Mule followed us because of the hypertracer on the communication circuit?" The blaster might have wavered. Channis wouldn't have sworn to it. He said: "You don't look surprised. But I don't waste time doubting that you feel surprised. Yes, I knew about it. And now, having shown you that I knew of something you didn't think I did, I'll tell you something you don't know, that I know you don't." "You allow yourself too many preliminaries, Channis. I should think your sense of invention was more smoothly greased. "There's on invention to this. There have been traitors, of course, or enemy agents, if you prefer that term. But the Mule knew of that in a rather curious way. It seems, you see, that some of his Converted men had been tampered with." The blaster did waver that time. Unmistakably. "I emphasize that, Pritcher. It was why he needed me. I was an Unconverted man. Didn't he emphasize to you that he needed an Unconverted? Whether he gave you the real reason or not?" "Try something else, Channis. If I were against the Mule, I'd know it." Quietly, rapidly, Pritcher was feeling his mind. It felt the same. It felt the same. Obviously the man was lying. "You mean you feel loyal to the Mule. Perhaps. Loyalty wasn't tampered with. Too easily detectable, the Mule said. But how do you feel mentally? Sluggish? Since you started this trip, have you always felt normal? Or have you felt strange sometimes, as though you weren't quite yourself? What are you trying to do, bore a hole through me without touching the trigger?" Pritcher withdrew his blaster half an inch, "What are you trying to say?" "I say that you've been tampered with. You've been handled. You didn't see the Mule install that hypertracer. You didn't see anyone do it. You just found it there, and assumed it was the Mule, and ever since you've been assuming he was following us. Sure, the wrist receiver you're wearing contacts the ship on a wave length mine isn't good for. Do you think I didn't know that?" He was speaking quickly now, angrily. His cloak of indifference had dissolved into savagery. "But it's not the Mule that's coming toward us from out there. It's not the Mule." "Who, if not?" "Well, who do you suppose? I found that hypertracer, the day we left. But I didn't think it was the Mule. He had no reason for indirection at that point. Don't you see the nonsense of it? If I were a traitor and he knew that, I could be Converted as easily as you were, and he would have the secret of the location of the Second Foundation out of my mind without sending me half across the Galaxy. Can you keep a secret from the Mule? And if I didn't know, then I couldn't lead him to it. So why send me in either case? "Obviously, that hypertracer must have been put there by an agent of the Second Foundation. That's who's coming towards us now. And would you have been fooled if your precious mind hadn't been tampered with? What kind of normality have you that you imagine immense folly to be wisdom? Me bring a ship to the Second Foundation? What would they do with a ship? "It's you they want, Pritcher. You know more about the union than anyone but the Mule, and you're not dangerous to them while he is. That抯 why they put the direction of search into my mind. Of course, it was completely impossible for me to find Tazenda by random searchings of the Lens. I knew that. But I knew there was the Second Foundation after us, and I knew they engineered it. Why not play their game? It was a battle of bluffs. They wanted us and I wanted their location ?and space take the one that couldn't outbluff the other. "But it's we that will lose as long as you hold that blaster on me. And it obviously isn't your idea. It's theirs. Give me the blaster, Pritcher. I know it seems wrong to you, but it isn't your mind speaking, it's the Second Foundation within you. Give me the blaster, Pritcher, and we抣l face what's coming now, together." Pritcher, faced a growing confusion in horror. Plausibility! Could he be so wrong? Why this eternal doubt of himself? Why wasn't he sure? What made Channis sound so plausible? Plausibility! Or was it his own tortured mind fighting the invasion of the alien. Was he split in two? Hazily, he saw Channis standing before him, hand outstretched ?and suddenly, he knew he was going to give him the blaster. And as the muscles of his arm were on the point of contracting in the proper manner to do so, the door opened, not hastily, behind him ?and he turned. There are perhaps men in the Galaxy who can be confused for one another even by men at their peaceful leisure. Correspondingly, there may be conditions of mind when even unlikely pairs may be mis-recognized. But the Mule rises above any combination of the two factors. Not all Pritcher's agony of mind prevented the instantaneous mental flood of cool vigor that engulfed him. Physically, the Mule could not dominate any situation. Nor did he dominate this one. He was rather a ridiculous figure in his layers of clothing that thickened him past his normality without allowing him to reach normal dimensions even so. His face was muffled and the usually dominant beak covered what was left in a cold-red prominence. Probably as a vision of rescue, no greater incongruity could exist. He said: "Keep your blaster, Pritcher." Then he turned to Channis, who had shrugged and seated himself: "The emotional context here seems rather confusing and considerably in conflict. What's this about someone other than myself following you?" Pritcher intervened sharply: "Was a hypertracer placed upon our ship by your orders, sir?" The Mule turned cool eyes upon him, "Certainly. Is it very likely that any organization in the Galaxy other than the union of Worlds would have access to it?' "He said? "Well, he's here, general. Indirect quotation is not necessary. Have you been saying anything, Channis?" "Yes. But mistakes apparently, sir. It has been my opinion that the tracer was put there by someone in the pay of the Second Foundation and that we had been led here for some purpose of theirs, which I was prepared to counter. I was under the further impression that the general was more or less in their hands." "You sound as if you think so no longer." "I'm afraid not. Or it would not have been you at the door." "Well, then, let us thresh this out." The Mule peeled off the outer layers of padded, and electrically heated clothing. "Do you mind if I sit down as well? Now ?we are safe here and perfectly free of any danger of intrusion. No native of this lump of ice will have any desire to approach this place. I assure you of that," and there was a grim earnestness about his insistence upon his powers. Channis showed his disgust. "Why privacy? Is someone going to serve tea and bring out the dancing girls?" "Scarcely. What was this theory of yours, young man? A Second Foundationer was tracing you with a device which no one but I have and ?how did you say you found this place?" "Apparently, sir, it seems obvious, in order to account for known facts, that certain notions have been put into my head? "By these same Second Foundationers?" "No one else, I imagine." "Then it did not occur to you that if a Second Foundationer could force, or entice, or inveigle you into going to the Second Foundation for purposes of his own ?and I assume you imagined he used methods similar to mine, though, mind you, I can implant only emotions, not ideas ?it did not occur to you that if he could do that there was little necessity to put a hypertracer on you. And Channis looked up sharply and met his sovereign's large eyes with sudden startle. Pritcher grunted and a visible relaxation showed itself in his shoulders. "No," said Channis, "that hadn't occurred to me." "Or that if they were obliged to trace you, they couldn't feel capable of directing you, and that, undirected, you could have precious little chance of finding your way here as you did. Did that occur to you?" "That, neither." "Why not? Has your intellectual level receded to a so-much-greater-than-probable degree?" "The only answer is a question, sir. Are you joining General Pritcher in accusing me of being a traitor?" "You have a defense in case I am?" "Only the one I presented to the general. If I were a traitor and knew the whereabouts of the Second Foundation, you could Convert me and learn the knowledge directly. If you felt it necessary to trace me, then I hadn't the knowledge beforehand and wasn't a traitor. So I answer your paradox with another." "Then your conclusion?" "That I am not a traitor." "To which I must agree, since your argument is irrefutable." "Then may I ask you why you had us secretly followed?" "Because to all the facts there is a third explanation. Both you and Pritcher explained some facts in your own individual ways, but not all. I ?if you can spare me the time ?will explain all. And in a rather short time, so there is little danger of boredom. Sit down, Pritcher, and give me your blaster. There is no danger of attack on us any longer. None from in here and none from out there. None in fact even from the Second Foundation. Thanks to you, Channis." The room was lit in the usual Rossemian fashion of electrically heated wire. A single bulb was suspended from the ceiling and in its dim yellow glow, the three cast their individual shadows. The Mule said: "Since I felt it necessary to trace Channis, it was obvious I expect to gain something thereby. Since he went to the Second Foundation with a startling speed and directness, we can reasonably assume that that was what I was expecting to happen. Since I did not gain the knowledge from him directly, something must have been preventing me. Those are the facts. Channis, of course, knows the answer. So do I. Do you see it, Pritcher?" And Pritcher said doggedly: "No, sir." "Then I抣l explain. Only one kind of man can both know the location of the Second Foundation and prevent me from learning it. Channis, I'm afraid you're a Second Foundationer yourself." And Channis' elbows rested on his knees as he leaned forward, and through stiff and angry lips said: "What is your direct evidence? Deduction has proven wrong twice today." "There is direct evidence, too, Channis. It was easy enough. I told you that my men had been tampered with. The tamperer must have been, obviously, someone who was a) Unconverted, and b) fairly close to the center of things. The field was large but not entirely unlimited. You were too successful, Channis. People liked you too much. You got along too well. I wondered? "And then I summoned you to take over this expedition and it didn't set you back. I watched your emotions. It didn't bother you. You overplayed the confidence there, Channis. No man of real competence could have avoided a dash of uncertainty at a job like that. Since your mind did avoid it, it was either a foolish one or a controlled one. It was easy to test the alternatives. I seized your mind at a moment of relaxation and filled it with grief for an instant and then removed it. You were angry afterwards with such accomplished art that I could have sworn it was a natural reaction, but for that which went first. For when I wrenched at your emotions, for just one instant, for one tiny instant before you could catch yourself, your mind resisted. It was all I needed to know. "No one could have resisted me, even for that tiny instant, without control similar to mine." Channis' voice was low and bitter: "Well, then? Now what?" "And now you die ?as a Second Foundationer. Quite necessary, as I believe you realize." And once again Channis stared into the muzzle of a blaster. A muzzle guided this time by a mind, not like Pritcher's capable of offhand twisting to suit himself, but by one as mature as his own and as resistant to force as his own. And the period of time allotted him for a correction of events was small. What followed thereafter is difficult to describe by one with the normal complement of senses and the normal incapacity for emotional control. Essentially, this is what Channis realized in the tiny space of time involved in the pushing of the Mule's thumb upon the trigger contact. The Mule's current emotional makeup was one of a hard and polished determination, unmisted by hesitation in the least. Had Channis been sufficiently interested afterward to calculate the time involved from the determination to shoot to the arrival of the disintegrating energies, he might have realized that his leeway was about one-fifth of a second. That was barely time. What the Mule realized in that same tiny space of time was that the emotional potential of Channis' brain had surged suddenly upwards without his own mind feeling any impact and that, simultaneously, a flood of pure, thrilling hatred cascaded upon him from an unexpected direction. It was that new emotional element that jerked his thumb off the contact. Nothing else could have done it, and almost together with his change of action, came complete realization of the new situation. It was a tableau that endured far less than the significance adhering to it should require from a dramatic standpoint. There was the Mule, thumb off the blaster, staring intently upon Channis There was Channis taut, not quite daring to breathe yet. And there was Pritcher, convulsed in his chair; every muscle at a spasmodic breaking point; every tendon writhing in an effort to hurl forward; his face twisted at last out of schooled woodenness into an unrecognizable death mask of horrid hate; and his eyes only and entirely and supremely upon the Mule. Only a word or two passed between Channis and the Mule ?only a word or two and that utterly revealing stream of emotional consciousness that remains forever the true interplay of understanding between such as they. For the sake of our own limits, it is necessary to translate into words what went on, then, and thenceforward. Channis said, tensely: "You抮e between two fires, First Citizen. You can't control two minds simultaneously, not when one of them is mine ?so you have your choice. Pritcher, is free of your Conversion now. I've snapped the bonds. He's the old Pritcher; the one who tried to kill you once; the one who thinks you're the enemy of all that is free and right and holy; and he's the one besides who knows that you've debased him to helpless adulation for five years. I'm holding him back now by suppressing his will, but if you kill me, that ends, and in considerably less time than you could shift your blaster or even your will ?he will kill you." The Mule quite plainly realized that. He did not move. Channis continued: "If you turn to place him under control, to kill him, to do anything, you won't ever be quick enough to turn again to stop me." The Mule still did not move. Only a soft sigh of realization. "So," said Channis, "throw down the blaster, and let us be on even terms again, and you can have Pritcher back." "I made a mistake," said the Mule, finally. "It was wrong to have a third party present when I confronted you. It introduced one variable too many. It is a mistake that must be paid for, I suppose." He dropped the blaster carelessly, and kicked it to the other end of the room. Simultaneously, Pritcher crumpled into profound sleep. "He抣l be normal when he awakes," said the Mule, indifferently. The entire exchange from the time the Mule's thumb had begun pressing the trigger-contact to the time he dropped the blaster had occupied just under a second and a half of time. But just beneath the borders of consciousness, for a time just above the borders of detection, Channis caught a fugitive emotional gleam in the Mule's mind. And it was still one of sure and confident triumph. 第五章 一人与骡   从程尼斯的一举一动,完全看不出来他已经知晓在两方面——普利吉的态度,以及他们两人之间的关系——都已经起了微妙的变化。现在,他正靠在硬木长椅上,两脚大大咧咧地伸在面前。 “你看这个总督有什么古怪?” 普利吉耸耸肩:“一点都看不出来,我感觉他根本没有什么特异的精神力量。如果他真是第二基地的一员,也只能算是个很差劲的角色。” “你可知道,我并不这么认为,但我不能确定该如何解释。如果你是第二基地的人,你又会怎么做呢?”程尼斯的口气越来越显得深思熟虑,“如果你是第二基地的人,而你又知道我们到此地来的目的,你会用什么手段对付我们?” “当然是回转啦。” “跟骡所做的一样?”程尼斯猛然抬起头来瞪着对方,“假使他们真的已经令我们回转,我们能够察觉到吗?我很怀疑。不过,如果他们只是非常聪明的心理学家,并没有任何异能的话,那又会怎么做呢?” “若是这样的话,我想会尽快将我们杀掉。” “而我们的星舰呢?不对。”程尼斯伸出一根手指摆了摆,又说,“对方正在向我们故弄玄虚,普利吉,老前辈,这只是故弄玄虚。纵使他们精通情感控制,我们——你和我——却只是打头阵的小卒。他们真正要对抗的是骡,他们小心谨慎、步步为营,和我们采取的态度完全一样。所以我相信,他们已经知道我们的身份了。” 普利吉用毫无表情的目光瞪着对方:“那么你打算怎么办?” “等,”他的口中迅速吐出这个字,然后再补充道,“让他们来找我们。他们会迟迟不敢行动,也许是害怕上头的星舰,但也可能是顾忌骡。他们先用那个总督来唬人,可是绝对不会成功,我们仍将按兵下动。这样的话,他们派来的下一个人,一定是真正的第二基地分子,而那个人会主动要求与我们谈判。” “然后呢?” “然后我们就跟他们达成协议。” “这个打算我可不敢苟同。” “因为你认为这么做会出卖骡?放心,不会的。” “不,骡知道如何对付你这种吃里扒外的行径。不论你多么精明,都逃不出他的手掌心,可是我仍然不敢苟同。” “因为你认为我们骗不了第二基地?” “或许吧,不过这也不是我的理由。” 程尼斯的目光开始下移,盯着对方手中握着的核铳,然后绷着脸说:“你是说那玩意才是真正的理由?” 普利吉晃了晃手中的核铳:“没错,现在你已经被捕了。” “为什么?” “因为你背叛了联邦第一公民。” 程尼斯噘起嘴唇:“到底是怎么回事?” “叛变!正如我刚才说的,而我有责任要制止这种行为。” “你如何能证明?你有什么证据、假设,或者你根本就是在做白日梦?难道你疯了不成?” “我可没有发疯,可是你呢?你真以为骡会吃饱了没事干,派你这个乳臭未干的小子执行一个可笑的、充门面的任务?刚开始我也感到奇怪,可是我却不该花那么多时间纳闷。他为什么会派你来?因为你笑容可掬、穿着得体?因为你今年才二十八岁?” “也许因为他信得过我。你不是要找合理的解释吗?” “也许刚好因为他信不过你!如今看来这个解释也极为合理。” “我们是在创作自相矛盾的叙述吗?还是在比赛谁的废话字眼最多?” 不过核铳却渐渐逼近,而普利吉紧紧跟在它后面。当他挺立在年轻人面前时,突然大声喝道:“站起来!” 程尼斯不慌不忙地依言照做,他感到铣口挨到了自己的皮带上,不过胃部的肌肉并没有开始抽搐。 普利吉说:“骡一心一思想找出第二基地,可是他失败了,而我也始终未能成功。我们两人都无法揭开的秘密,一定是极度隐秘的。所以,只剩下最后一个可行的办法,就是找一个已经知道那个秘密地点的人,来领导另一次的探索行动。” “而那个人就是我?” “显然正是。当然,最初我并不知道,不过虽然我的心智运作减缓,思考的方向至少还没有错。我们多么轻易就发现了‘群星的尽头’!你从透镜的无数可能内容中,一下子就找到正确的像场,这简直就是奇迹!接下来,我们所遇到的一切,全部都是我们预期的正确方向,真可说是天衣无缝!你这个大笨蛋!难道你就如此低估我,以为我会对你接二连三不可思议的好运,完全视若无睹、无动于衷吗?” “你的意思是说,我实在太成功了?” “如果你不是一个叛徒的话,连一半的成功都不可能。” “因为你对我的期望实在太低了?” 核铳又向前戳了一下。而面对着程尼斯的那张脸,只有森冷的目光显露出逐渐升高的愤怒。 “因为你被第二基地收买了。” “收买?”程尼斯以无比轻蔑的口气问道,然后又说,“拿出证据来。” “也可能是你的心灵受到了影响。” “而骡竟然会不知道?真是荒谬。” “骡当然早就知道,我要说的正是这一点。你这个笨蛋,骡当然早就知道!否则的话,你以为骡为什么要拨给你一艘星舰?如今你带领我们来到第二基地,这正是骡的计划。” “让我抽丝剥茧为你分析一下。我能不能请问你,我究竟为什么应该做这一切?假如我是一名叛徒,我为什么要带你到第二基地来?我为什么不在银河中随便乱闯一通,到头来跟你以前一样无功而返?” “你是为了这艘星舰,因为第二基地的人显然亟需核能武器自卫。” “你这个理由太过牵强。一艘星舰对他们根本没有用,如果他们认为能从中学得先进的科技,而明年就可以建设核能发电厂,那么这些第二基地的人,头脑也实在非常、非常简单。事实上,我应该说,你自己的头脑就是这么简单。” “你会有机会向骡当面解释这些。” “我们要回卡尔根去?” “正好相反!我们将留在这里。而骡差不多在十五分钟后,就会来到此地跟我们会合。你这个自以为聪明绝顶的小子,以为他没有跟踪我们吗?你这个诱饵刚好反过来了——虽然也许未将我们的猎物引出来,却引导我们来到了猎物的巢穴。” 程尼斯说:“我可以坐下来,用简单明了的方式为你解释一些事吗?拜托。” “你给我乖乖站好。” “既然这样的话,我站着说也是一样。你认为骡一直在跟踪我们,是因为通讯线路中有一个超波中继器吗?” 核铳仿佛轻微颤动了一下,不过程尼斯却不敢肯定。他继续说:“你看起来并不惊讶,可是我也不愿意浪费时间,猜测你是否真的感到惊讶。没错,我晓得这件事情。现在,我已经向你证明了,我知道一些你以为我不知道的事。接下来,我要告诉你一些我确定你不知道的事情。” “你的开场白实在太长了,程尼斯,我以为你捏造谎言的效率应该很高。” “我没有必要捏造任何事情。叛徒当然存在,或者你比较喜欢称之为敌方的特务。可是,骡却是透过一个迂回的管道知晓这件事的。你可知道,他手下的某些投诚者似乎被人动了手脚。” 核铳这回的确晃动了一下,绝对错不了。 “我要强调这一点,普利吉,这就是他需要我的真正原因,因为我并不是一个回转者。他难道没有向你强调过,说他需要一个非投诚者吗?他到底有没有告诉你这个真正的理由?” “试试别的伎俩吧,程尼斯。如果我起了背叛骡的念头,自己一定会察觉出来的。”说完,普利吉赶紧悄悄内视自己的心灵,发现根本没有变化,感觉完全一样,显然对面这个人是在说谎。 “你是说你仍然感到对骡忠心耿耿?也许吧,因为忠心并没有被干扰。骡自己也说过,那太容易被发现了。可是你的精神感觉如何呢?是不是变得比较迟钝?从这趟旅程开始算起,你是否始终觉得很正常?或者有时会有奇怪的感觉,好像自己不能完全控制自己——你想干什么?想拿铳口在我肚子上戳个洞吗?” 普利吉将核铳抽回了半寸,然后说:“你到底想说什么?” “我是说你已经被干扰、被控制了。你并没有亲眼看到骡将超波中继器安装在舰上,你根本没有看到任何人做这件事。我猜,你只不过突然发现它在那里,就跟我一样是无意中发现的。可是你马上假设那是骡安置的,而从那时候开始,你就一直以为是骡在跟踪我们。当然,你手腕上所戴的通讯器,可以用特殊波长和星舰联络,而我的通讯器却接收不到那些讯号。你以为这些我都被蒙在鼓里吗?”他说得越来越快,口气也变得极为愤慨,原本戴在脸上的冷漠面具,如今已经转成一张凶恶的脸孔。接着,他又补充道,“可是你却料错了,跟踪我们的并不是骡,根本就不是。” “如果不是骡,那么是什么人?” “哈,你认为是什么人呢?在我们升空的当天,我就已经发现了那个超波中继器,可是我并没有以为是骡放置的,他绝没有理由需要那么偷偷摸摸。你难道看不出那是个荒谬的推论吗?如果我真的是一个叛徒,而他又早已知道的话,他可以轻易地令我回转,让我变得像你一样。这样一来,他就能从我心中探出第二基地的秘密位置,根本不必将我送到银河的另一端。你自己能够对骡隐藏任何秘密吗?反过来说,如果我根本不知道的话,那么我也无法带他到那里去。所以不论怎么说,他都不需要将我派出来。” “显然,那个超波中继器一定是第二基地的特务放置的,因此不难推知跟踪我们的到底是谁。而如果你那了不起的脑袋没有被干扰的话,又怎么可能会上这个当呢?你会有这种大愚若智的想法,究竟算哪门子正常?我为什么要把一艘星舰带给第二基地?他们要星舰又有什么用?” “他们真正想要的是你这个人,普利吉。除了骡以外,你是最了解联邦内情的人。骡对他们而言是个危险人物,然而你却不是,这就是为什么他们会将探索的方向注入我心里。当然,假使我只是用透镜漫无目标地摸索,是万万不可能找得到达辛德的,这点我也知道。可是我更知道是第二基地躲在幕后,知道是他们在操纵这一切。所以何不将计就计呢?这其实是个尔虞我诈的心理战,他们想要逮住我们,而我们想要知道他们的大本营。谁能够坚持到底,不被对方唬住,谁就会是最后的赢家。” “可是如果你不将核铳拿开的话,我们就输定了。你这么做显然是身不由己,是受到了他们的控制。把核铳给我,普利吉,我知道你认为不该听我的话,可是这个念头并不是你自己的,而是由第二基地注入你的心中。把核铳交给我,普利吉,让我们站在一条线上,一起面对即将来临的大敌。” 一股迷乱的情绪不断升高,令普利吉感到极为恐惧。诡辩!自己会错得这么离谱吗?为什么永远要怀疑自己?为什么不能肯定任何事情?是什么使得程尼斯的话听来那么有道理? 诡辩! 抑或是他饱经磨难的心灵,此时正在对抗另一个入侵者? 自己是否分裂成了两个人? 他模模糊糊看见程尼斯站在面前,还伸出一只手来。在这一瞬间,他知道自己就要将核铳交出去了。 当他手臂的肌肉正要收缩,准备有所行动时,身后的门却打开了。他连忙回过头去。 在广大的银河中,或许有许多面貌相似的人,会让别人在普通的情况下认错。此外,在某些特殊场合中,也有人会将根本就不相像的人混淆不清。然而,这两种情形都绝不可能发生在骡身上。 普利吉心中所有的怒火,也无法抵挡住一股冰冷的精神洪流,陡然冲入他的体内。就体格而言,骡无法在任何情况下占得优势,如今也不例外。 他现在的穿着令他看来十分滑稽。由于身上包着很厚的衣服,使他显得比平常臃肿,可是仍旧比普通人还要瘦弱。他的脸大半被遮着,那个特大号的鹰钩鼻露在外面,被寒冷的空气冻得通红。样子看起来就像是在雪地迷失数日、刚刚才被救回来的人——再没有比这个更恰当的比喻了。 他一进门就说:“把核铳抓紧,普利吉。” 此时程尼斯耸耸肩,自己找了位子坐下。骡转身对他说:“此地的情感氛围似乎极为杂乱,而且有明显的冲突。你说除我之外,还有人跟踪你们,这究竟是什么意思?” 普利吉突然插嘴问道:“阁下,在我们的星舰上放置超波中继器,是不是您授意的?” 骡将冷漠的双眼转向普利吉:“当然。整个银河系中,除了行星联邦之外,还可能有别的组织拥有这种装置吗?” “他说……” “好,他在这里,将军,不需要你来转述他的话。你刚才是不是说了些什么,程尼斯?” “是的,阁下,不过我显然是搞错了。我本来以为,超波中继器是某个被第二基地收买的人放置的,而我们被引到这里来,是出于某些人的阴谋,我正准备要还击呢。此外,我还有一个感觉,感到将军多少已经被他们控制了。” “听你的口气,好像你现在不这么想了。” “似乎就是如此。否则的话,刚才进门的就不会是您了。” “奸吧,那么,让我们来理清这个问题。”骡将厚实又附有电热装置的外套脱去,继续说道:“你不介意我也坐下吧?现在——我们在这里非常安全,完全不必担心会有任何人闯进来。在这个冰封的星球上,不会有任何一个本地人想要靠近这个地方,这一点我能够向你们保证。”他用冷酷的语调,强调着自己的力量。 程尼斯却故意表现出厌恶:“有什么不可见人的?是不是有人会来奉茶,还会有舞娘出来表演呢?” “恐怕没有。你的理论到底是什么,年轻人?你说第二基地的人正在追踪你们,用的却是只有我才拥有的装置,还有——你说你是怎么找到这个地方的?” “这很明显,阁下,为了要解释所有已知的事实,似乎只能说我的脑子被灌输了一些概念……” “也是那些第二基地的人干的?” “不可能有别人,我想。” “那么你并没有想到,如果某个第二基地的人为了自己的目的,因而强迫、驱策,或是诱骗你到第二基地自投罗网——我想你认为他用的是与我类似的方法,可是我要提醒你,我能够植入他人心中的只有情感,而不是概念——反正,你并没有想到,如果他能够做到这种事,他就几乎没有必要用超波中继器追踪你。” 程尼斯猛然抬起头,却被元首的大眼睛吓得一阵心悸。普利吉则在喃喃自语,从他松弛的肩膀上,可以看出他已经完全放松了。 “对,”程尼斯回答:“我并没有想到这一点。” “如果他们不得不跟踪你,就表示他们不可能有办法左右你。而你在完全不受他们支配的情况下,根本不可能这么顺利找到这里。这一点你想到过没有?” “这点我也没有想到。” “为什么?难道说你的智商突然降低了那么多吗?” “我现在只能以一个问题来答复您,阁下。您是不是也要加入普利吉将军的阵营,跟他一起来指控我是个叛徒?” “如果我的答复是肯定的,你有办法为自己抗辩吗?” “我的理由刚才都已经跟将军说过了。如果我真的是一个叛徒,知道第二基地的下落,您就可以令我回转,直接从我心中探得那个秘密。而如果您认为有需要跟踪我,那么代表我在事先并不知情,因此也就不是一个叛徒。我就准备利用这个矛盾,来答覆您刚才提出的那个矛盾。” “那么你的结论是什么呢?” “我并不是一个叛徒。” “这一点我必须承认,因为你的论证无懈可击。” “那么现在我可否请问您,为什么您要暗中跟踪我们?” “因为对于所有已知的事实,其实还存在着第三种解释。你和普利吉两个人,都分别以个人的观点解释了部分而非全部的事实。而我——如果你们愿意多花点时间听我说——我可以将一切都解释得很圆满。我尽量长话短说,所以你们听来应该不会觉得厌烦。坐下来,普利吉,把你的核铳交给我。我们不会有危险的,不论是屋里屋外,都再也不会有人想攻击我们。事实上,就连第二基地也不会了。而这都是你的功劳,程尼斯。” 房间中的照明是罗珊通用的电力白炽灯,仅有的一个灯泡吊在天花板上,昏黄的灯光映出了三道人影。 骡说:“既然我感到有必要跟踪程尼斯,显然我期待能够有些收获。由于他以惊人的速度直奔第二基地,我们可以做一个合理的假设,那就是我所期待的事情果真发生了。然而,我却没有直接从他那里获得任何情报,所以一定是有什么东西阻止了我,这些都是事实。当然,程尼斯知道真正的答案,而我心里也很明白。你懂了吗,普利吉?” 普利吉以顽固的口气说:“阁下,我不懂。” “那么让我来解释一下。知道第二基地的位置,又能够不让我探得这个秘密的,其实只有惟一的一种人。程尼斯,恐怕你并不是真正的叛徒,事实上,你根本就是第二基地的人。” 程尼斯用双肘撑在膝盖上,身子微微向前倾,从愤怒而僵硬的嘴唇中吐出了一句:“您有什么直接的证据?演绎式的推论今天已经两度触礁了。” “我当然也有直接的证据,程尼斯,这相当简单。我曾经告诉过你,说我的手下被人暗中动了手脚,而主使者显然第一必须是非回转者,第二是与事件中心极为接近的人。这个范围虽然很大,可是却并非没有界限。你过去实在太成功了,程尼斯,大家都太喜欢你,你的一切都太顺利了。所以我怀疑——” “于是我征召你主持这次远征,而你并没有拒绝。我曾注意观察你的情感变化,发现你完全没有感到困扰。你的胸有成竹表演得太过火了,程尼斯。对于这么重大的任务,任何一个正常人,不论他的能力多么强,都难免会现出几丝犹豫。可是你心中就是没有这种反应,这代表你如果不是白痴,就是受到外力的控制。” “要想知道真相其实非常容易,我趁着你松懈的时候,突然将你的心灵一把抓住,并且在同一瞬间将悲痛的情绪注入,随即又将它解除。而你马上就显露出了愤怒,几乎配合得天衣无缝,我简直可以发誓那是一种自然的反应,不过那却只是我最初的想法。因为当我左右你的情感时,在你露出愤怒的反应之前,有那么一刹那的工夫,你的心灵竟然试图反抗,而这正是我想要知道的反应。” “没有任何人能够反抗我,即使是那么短暂的时间,除非他具有与我类似的精神控制力。” 程尼斯的声音听来低沉而苦涩:“哦,是吗?那又怎么样?” “那就代表你死定了——因为你的确是第二基地的人。这是你惟一的下场,我相信你早就知道了。” 于是程尼斯又看到了一把指着自己的核铳,然而,这次控制铳口方向的并不是普利吉,而是一个与他一样成熟、一样强固的心灵。他可以轻易按照自己的意志左右普利吉,可是对于骡的心灵却无能为力。 而他能够用来扭转局势的时间,实在少之又少。 接下来所发生的事情,实在很难以笔墨形容。因为笔者与普通人无异,只具有普通的感官;也跟普通人一样,没有控制他人情感的能力。 简单地说,在骡的拇指将要扣下扳机的那一瞬间,程尼斯的心中转了无数的念头。 骡的精神如今被坚毅果断的决心占据,绝不会有半分犹豫。从骡决心射杀程尼斯,到他将被高能光束分解殆尽的这段过程,假如程尼斯事后有兴趣计算一下,将会发现可资利用的时间仅有五分之一秒。 只有那么一点点时间。 而在那么短暂的时间中,骡发觉程尼斯大脑的情感势能陡然高涨,不过自己的心灵并未感到任何冲击。与此同时,一股纯粹而令人战栗的恨意,却从另外一个意想不到的方向袭来。 就是由于这个新来的情绪,将他的大拇指从扳机旁边弹开。除此之外,再也没有任何力量能够做到这一点。几乎在他改变动作的同一时刻,他也完全体认到了这个新的情势。 说时迟那时快,若从戏剧的观点而言,这个变化实在该用慢动作呈现。且先说骡,他的拇指离开了核铳,但是双眼仍旧紧盯着程尼斯;再说程尼斯,他全身紧绷,几乎下敢张口喘气;此外还有普利吉,他倒在椅子上全身痉挛,每一块肌肉都拼命抽搐,每一条肌腱都扭曲变形,训练有素的木然脸孔化作一张死灰的面具,上面布满了可怕的恨意,令人根本认不出他是谁。而他的双眼则紧紧地、直直地、目不转睛地盯在骡身上。 程尼斯与骡只交换了一两个字——仅仅一两个字,对他们这种人而言,已经完全能够表露情感与意识,足以达到相互了解与沟通的目的。然而由于我们这些凡夫俗子先天性的限制,想要叙述这一段经过,必须将他们所交换的讯息转换成文字,包括刚才已经进行过的,以及即将进行的“对话”。 程尼斯紧张地说道:“你现在已经腹背受敌了,第一公民。你无法同时控制两个心灵,因为其中之一来自第二基地,所以你只能任选其一。普利吉已经脱离回转状态,我刚刚把他的心灵枷锁打开了。他如今又是当年的普利吉,那个将你视作自由、正义与一切神圣事物的公敌,曾经试图行刺你的普利吉。此外他也知道,在过去五年间,你将他贬为一条摇尾乞怜的走狗。现在我压制住他的意志,不让他有所行动,可是假如你将我杀掉,那就没有人控制他了。在你还来下及将铳口转向,甚至以你的意志重新攫取他之前——他就会把你解决。” 骡对于他所说的这些都毫不怀疑,因此仍然保持纹丝不动的姿势。 程尼斯又说:“倘若你转移注意力去控制他或杀掉他,或是做出任何行动,你就来不及回过头来再阻止我。”听到这里,骡仍旧没有任何动作,只是轻轻地叹了一口气。 “所以说,”程尼斯继续说道,“把核铳抛开吧,让我们两人公平地对决,然后你就可以把普利吉要回去。” “我犯了一个错误,”骡终于开口,“当我面对你的时候,不该让任何第三者在场,这样做引进了太多变数。我想,我必须为这个错误付出代价。” 他随手将核铳抛在地上,又用脚将它踢到房间的另一角。与此同时,普利吉也瘫成一团沉沉睡去。 “当他清醒的时候,一切都会恢复正常。”骡轻描淡写地说。 从骡的拇指准备按下扳机,到他将核铳丢弃为止,这整个情势的逆转,其实只过了一点五秒的时间。 但是在意识几乎无法察觉的范围,程尼斯及时从骡的心灵中发现了一丝飘忽的情绪——那仍是信心十足的得意之情。 这两个人表面上看起来轻松自在,实际上却刚好相反——他们体内每一根职主管情感的神经,全都紧张得不停颤抖。 Chapter 6 One Man, the Mule ?and Another Two men, apparently relaxed and entirely at ease, poles apart physically ?with every nerve that served as emotional detector quivering tensely. The Mule, for the first time in long years, had insufficient surety of his own way. Channis knew that, though he could protect himself for the moment, it was an effort ?and that the attack upon him was none such for his opponent. In a test of endurance, Channis knew he would lose. But it was deadly to think of that. To give away to the Mule an emotional weakness would be to hand him a weapon. There was already that glimpse of something ?a winner's something ?in the Mule's mind. To gain time? Why did the others delay? Was that the source of the Mule's confidence? What did his opponent know that he didn't? The mind he watched told nothing. If only he could read ideas. And yet? Channis braked his own mental whirling roughly. There was only that; to gain time? Channis said: "Since it is decided, and not denied by myself after our little duel over Pritcher, that I am a Second Foundationer, suppose you tell me why I came to Tazenda." "Oh, no," and the Mule laughed, with high-pitched confidence, "I am not Pritcher. I need make no explanations to you. You had what you thought were reasons. Whatever they were, your actions suited me, and so I inquire no further." "Yet there must be such gaps in your conception of the story. Is Tazenda the Second Foundation you expected to find? Pritcher spoke much of your other attempt at finding it, and of your psychologist tool, Ebling Mis. He babbled a bit sometimes under my ... uh ... slight encouragement. Think back on Ebling Mis, First Citizen." "Why should I?" Confidence! Channis felt that confidence edge out into the open, as if with the passage of time, any anxiety the Mule might be having was increasingly vanishing. He said, firmly restraining the rush of desperation: "You lack curiosity, then? Pritcher told me of Mis' vast surprise at something. There was his terribly drastic urging for speed, for a rapid warning of the Second Foundation? Why???????Ebling Mis died. The Second Foundation was not warned. And yet the Second Foundation exists." The Mule smiled in real pleasure, and with a sudden and surprising dash of cruelty that Channis felt advance and suddenly withdraw: "But apparently the Second Foundation was warned. Else how and why did one Bail Channis arrive on Kalgan to handle my men and to assume the rather thankless task of outwitting me. The warning came too late, that is all." "Then," and Channis allowed pity to drench outward from him, "you don't even know what the Second Foundation is, or anything of the deeper meaning of all that has been going on." To gain time! The Mule felt the other's pity, and his eyes narrowed with instant hostility. He rubbed his nose in his familiar four-fingered gesture, and snapped: "Amuse yourself, then. What of the Second Foundation?" Channis spoke deliberately, in words rather than in emotional symbology. He said: "From what I have heard, it was the mystery that surrounded the Second Foundation that most puzzled Mis. Hari Seldon founded his two units so differently. The First Foundation was a splurge that in two centuries dazzled half the Galaxy. And the Second was an abyss that was dark. "You won't understand why that was, unless you can once again feel the intellectual atmosphere of the days of the dying Empire. It was a time of absolutes, of the great final generalities, at least in thought. It was a sign of decaying culture, of course, that dams had been built against the further development of ideas. It was his revolt against these dams that made Seldon famous. It was that one last spark of youthful creation in him that lit the Empire in a sunset glow and dimly foreshadowed the rising sun of the Second Empire." "Very dramatic. So what?" "So he created his Foundations according to the laws of psychohistory, but who knew better than he that even those laws were relative. He never created a finished product. Finished products are for decadent minds. His was an evolving mechanism and the Second Foundation was the instrument of that evolution. We, First Citizen of your Temporary union of Worlds, we are the guardians of Seldon's Plan. Only we!" "Are you trying to talk yourself into courage," inquired the Mule, contemptuously, "or are you trying to impress me? For the Second Foundation, Seldon's Plan, the Second Empire all impresses me not the least, nor touches any spring of compassion, sympathy, responsibility, nor any other source of emotional aid you may be trying to tap in me. And in any case, poor fool, speak of the Second Foundation in the past tense, for it is destroyed." Channis felt the emotional potential that pressed upon his mind rise in intensity as the Mule rose from his chair and approached. He fought back furiously, but something crept relentlessly on within him, battering and bending his mind back ?and back. He felt the wall behind him, and the Mule faced him, skinny arms akimbo, lips smiling terribly beneath that mountain of nose. The Mule said: "Your game is through, Channis. The game of all of you-of all the men of what used to be the Second Foundation. Used to be! Used to be! "What were you sitting here waiting for all this time, with your babble to Pritcher, when you might have struck him down and taken the blaster from him without the least effort of physical force? You were waiting for me, weren't you, waiting to greet me in a situation that would not too arouse my suspicions. "Too bad for you that I needed no arousal. I knew you. I knew you well, Channis of the Second Foundation. "But what are you waiting for now? You still throw words at me desperately, as though the mere sound of your voice would freeze me to my seat. And all the while you speak, something in your mind is waiting and waiting and is still waiting. But no one is coming. None of those you expect ?none of your allies. You are alone here, Channis, and you will remain alone. Do you know why? "It is because your Second Foundation miscalculated me to the very dregs of the end. I knew their plan early. They thought I would follow you here and be proper meat for their cooking. You were to be a decoy indeed ?a decoy for a poor, foolish weakling mutant, so hot on the trail of Empire that he would fall blindly into an obvious pit. But am I their prisoner? "I wonder if it occurred to them that I抎 scarcely be here without my fleet ?against the artillery of any unit of which they are entirely and pitifully helpless? Did it occur to them that I would not pause for discussion or wait for events? "My ships were launched against Tazenda twelve hours ago and they are quite, quite through with their mission. Tazenda is laid in ruins; its centers of population are wiped out. There was no resistance. The Second Foundation no longer exists, Channis ?and I, the queer, ugly weakling, am the ruler of the Galaxy." Channis could do nothing but shake his head feebly. "No?No? "Yes?Yes? mimicked the Mule. "And if you are the last one alive, and you may be, that will not be for long either." And then there followed a short, pregnant pause, and Channis almost howled with the sudden pain of that tearing penetration of the innermost tissues of his mind. The Mule drew back and muttered: "Not enough. You do not pass the test after all. Your despair is pretense. Your fear is not the broad overwhelming that adheres to the destruction of an ideal, but the puny seeping fear of personal destruction." And the Mule抯 weak hand seized Channis by the throat in a puny grip that Channis was somehow unable to break. "You are my insurance, Channis. You are my director and safeguard against any underestimation I may make." The Mule's eyes bore down upon him. Insistent?Demanding? "Have I calculated rightly, Channis? Have I outwitted your men of the Second Foundation? Tazenda is destroyed, Channis, tremendously destroyed; so why is your despair pretense? Where is the reality? I must have reality and truth! Talk, Channis talk. Have I penetrated then, not deeply enough? Does the danger still exist? Talk, Channis. Where have I done wrong?" Channis felt the words drag out of his mouth. They did not come willingly. He clenched his teeth against them. He bit his tongue. He tensed every muscle of his throat. And they came out ?gasping ?pulled out by force and tearing his throat and tongue and teeth on the way. "Truth," he squeaked, "truth? "Yes, truth. What is left to be done?" "Seldon founded Second Foundation here. Here, as I said. I told no lie. The psychologists arrived and took control of the native population." "Of Tazenda?" The Mule plunged deeply into the flooding torture of the other's emotional upwellings ?tearing at them brutally. "It is Tazenda I have destroyed. You know what I want. Give it to me." "Not Tazenda. I said Second Foundationers might not be those apparently in power; Tazenda is the figurehead? The words were almost unrecognizable, forming themselves against every atom of will of the Second Foundationer, "Rossem?RRRRRRRRRRsem is the world? The Mule loosed his grip and Channis dropped into a huddle of pain and torture. "And you thought to fool me?" said the Mule, softly. "You were fooled." It was the last dying shred of resistance in Channis. "But not long enough for you and yours. I am in communication with my Fleet. And after Tazenda can come Rossem. But first? Channis felt the excruciating darkness rise against him, and the automatic lift of his arm to his tortured eyes could not ward it off. It was a darkness that throttled, and as he felt his tom, wounded mind reeling backwards, backwards into the everlasting black ?there was that final picture of the triumphant Mule ?laughing matchstick ?that long, fleshy nose quivering with laughter. The sound faded away. The darkness embraced him lovingly. It ended with a cracking sensation that was like the jagged glare of a lightning flash, and Channis came slowly to earth while sight returned painfully in blurry transmission through tear-drenched eyes. His head ached unbearably, and it was only with a stab of agony that he could bring up a hand to it. Obviously, he was alive. Softly, like feathers caught up in an eddy of air that had passed, his thoughts steadied and drifted to rest. He felt comfort suck in ?from outside. Slowly, torturedly, he bent his neck ?and relief was a sharp pang. For the door was open; and the First Speaker stood just inside the threshold. He tried to speak, to shout, to warn ?but his tongue froze and he knew that a part of the Mule's mighty mind still held him and clamped all speech within him. He bent his neck once more. The Mule was still in the room. He was angry and hot-eyed. He laughed no longer, but his teeth were bared in a ferocious smile. Channis felt the First Speaker's mental influence moving gently over his mind with a healing touch and then there was the numbing sensation as it came into contact with the Mule's defense for an instant of struggle and withdrew. The Mule said gratingly, with a fury that was grotesque in his meagre body: "Then another comes to greet me." His agile mind reached its tendrils out of the room?out????? "You are alone," he said. And the First Speaker interrupted with an acquiescence: "I am thoroughly alone. It is necessary that I be alone, since it was I who miscalculated your future five years ago. There would be a certain satisfaction to me in correcting that matter without aid. Unfortunately, I did not count on the strength of your Field of Emotional Repulsion that surrounded this place. It took me long to penetrate. I congratulate you upon the skill with which it was constructed." "Thank you for nothing," came the hostile rejoinder. "Bandy no compliments with me. Have you come to add your brain splinter to that of yonder cracked pillar of your realm?" The First Speaker smiled: "Why, the man you call Bail Channis performed his mission well, the more so since he was not your mental equal by far. I can see, of course, that you have mistreated him, yet it may be that we may restore him fully even yet. He is a brave man, sir. He volunteered for this mission although we were able to predict mathematically the huge chance of damage to his mind ?a more fearful alternative than that of mere physical crippling." Channis' mind pulsed futilely with what he wanted to say and couldn't; the warning he wished to shout and was unable to. He could only emit that continuous stream of fear?fear? The Mule was calm. "You know, of course, of the destruction of Tazenda." "I do. The assault by your fleet was foreseen." Grimly: "Yes, so I suppose. But not prevented, eh?" "No, not prevented." The First Speaker's emotional symbology was plain. It was almost a self-horror; a complete self-disgust: "And the fault is much more mine than yours. Who could have imagined your powers five years ago. We suspected from the start ?from the moment you captured Kalgan ?that you had the powers of emotional control. That was not too surprising, First Citizen, as I can explain to you. "Emotional contact such as you and I possess is not a very new development. Actually it is implicit in the human brain. Most humans can read emotion in a primitive manner by associating it pragmatically with facial expression, tone of voice and so on. A good many animals possess the faculty to a higher degree; they use the sense of smell to a good extent and the emotions involved are, of course, less complex. "Actually, humans are capable of much more, but the faculty of direct emotional contact tended to atrophy with the development of speech a million years back. It has been the great advance of our Second Foundation that this forgotten sense has been restored to at least some of its potentialities. "But we are not born with its full use. A million years of decay is a formidable obstacle, and we must educate the sense, exercise it as we exercise our muscles. And there you have the main difference. You were born with it. "So much we could calculate. We could also calculate the effect of such a sense upon a person in a world of men who did not possess it. The seeing man in the kingdom of the blind?We calculated the extent to which a megalomania would take control of you and we thought we were prepared. But for two factors we were not prepared. "The first was the great extent of your sense. We can induce emotional contact only when in eyeshot, which is why we are more helpless against physical weapons than you might think. Sight plays such an enormous part. Not so with you. You are definitely known to have had men under control, and, further, to have had intimate emotional contact with them when out of sight and out of earshot. That was discovered too late. "Secondly, we did not know of your physical shortcomings, particularly the one that seemed so important to you, that you adopted the name of the Mule. We didn't foresee that you were not merely a mutant, but a sterile mutant and the added psychic distortion due to your inferiority complex passed us by. We allowed only for a megalomania ?not for an intensely psychopathic paranoia as well. "It is myself that bears the responsibility for having missed all that, for I was the leader of the Second Foundation when you captured Kalgan. When you destroyed the First Foundation, we found out ?but too late ?and for that fault millions have died on Tazenda." "And you will correct things now?" The Mules thin lips curled, his mind pulsing with hate: "What will you do? Fatten me? Restore me to a masculine vigor? Take away from my past the long childhood in an alien environment. Do you regret my sufferings? Do you regret my unhappiness? I have no sorrow for what I did in my necessity. Let the Galaxy Protect itself as best it can, since it stirred not a whit for my protection when I needed it." Your emotions are, of course," said the First Speaker, "only the children of your background and are not to be condemned ?merely changed. The destruction of Tazenda was unavoidable. The alternative would have been a much greater destruction generally throughout the Galaxy over a period of centuries. We did our best in our limited way. We withdrew as many men from Tazenda as we could. We decentralized the rest of the world. Unfortunately, our measures were of necessity far from adequate. It left many millions to die ?do you not regret that?" "Not at all ?any more than I regret the hundred thousand that must die on Rossem in not more than six hours." "On Rossem?" said the First Speaker, quickly. He turned to Channis who had forced himself into a half-sitting posture, and his mind exerted its force. Channis, felt the duel of minds strain over him, and then there was a short snapping of the bond and the words came tumbling out of his mouth: "Sir, I have failed completely. He forced it from me not ten minutes before your arrival. I could not resist him and I offer no excuses. He knows Tazenda is not the Second Foundation. He knows that Rossem is." And the bonds closed down upon him again. The First Speaker frowned: "I see. What is it you are planning to do?" "Do you really wonder? Do you really find it difficult to penetrate the obvious? All this time that you have preached to me of the nature of emotional contact ?all this time that you have been throwing words such as megalomania and paranoia at me, I have been working. I have been in contact with my Fleet and it has its orders. In six hours, unless I should for some reason counteract my orders, they are to bombard all of Rossem except this lone village and an area of a hundred square miles about it. They are to do a thorough job and are then to land here. "You have six hours, and in six hours, you cannot beat down my mind, nor can you save the rest of Rossem." The Mule spread his hands and laughed again while the First Speaker seemed to find difficulty in absorbing this new state of affairs. He said: "The alternative?" "Why should there even be an alternative? I can stand to gain no more by any alternative. Is it the lives of those on Rossem I'm to be chary of? Perhaps if you allow my ships to land and submit, all of you ?all the men on the Second Foundation ?to mental control sufficient to suit myself, I may countermand the bombardment orders. It may be worthwhile to put so many men of high intelligence under my control. But then again it would be a considerable effort and perhaps not worth it after all, so I'm not particularly eager to have you agree to it. What do you say, Second Foundationer? What weapon have you against my mind which is as strong as yours at least and against my ships which are stronger than anything you have ever dreamed of possessing?" "What have I?" repeated the First Speaker, slowly: "Why nothing ?except a little grain ?such a little grain of knowledge that even yet you do not possess." "Speak quickly," laughed the Mule, "speak inventively. For squirm as you might, you won't squirm out of this." "Poor mutant," said the First Speaker, "I have nothing to squirm out of. Ask yourself ?why was Bail Channis sent to Kalgan as a decoy ?Bail Channis, who though young and brave is almost as much your mental inferior as is this sleeping officer of yours, this Han Pritcher. Why did not I go, or another of our leaders, who would be more your match?" "Perhaps," came the supremely confident reply, "you were not sufficiently foolish, since perhaps none of you are my match." "The true reason is more logical. You knew Channis to be a Second Foundationer. He lacked the capacity to hide that from you. And you knew, too, that you were his superior, so you were not afraid to play his game and follow him as he wished you to in order to outwit him later. Had I gone to Kalgan, you would have killed me for I would have been a real danger, or had I avoided death by concealing my identity, I would yet have failed in persuading you to follow me into space. It was only known inferiority that lured you on. And had you remained on Kalgan, not all the force of the Second Foundation could have harmed you, surrounded as you were by your men, your machines, and your mental power." "My mental power is yet with me, squirmer," said the Mule, "and my men and machines are not far off." "Truly so, but you are not on Kalgan. You are here in the Kingdom of Tazenda, logically presented to you as the Second Foundation ?very logically presented. It had to be so presented, for you are a wise man, First Citizen, and would follow only logic." "Correct, and it was a momentary victory for your side, but there was still time for me to worm the truth from your man, Channis, and still wisdom in me to realize that such a truth might exist." "And on our side, oh, not-quite-sufficiently-subtle one, was the realization that you might go that one step further and so Bail Channis was prepared for you." "That he most certainly was not, for I stripped his brain clean as any plucked chicken. It quivered bare and open before me and when he said Rossem was the Second Foundation, it was basic truth for I had ground him so flat and smooth that not the smidgeon of a deceit could have found refuge in any microscopic crevice." "True enough. So much the better for our foresight. For I have told you already that Bail Channis was a volunteer. Do you know what sort of a volunteer? Before he left our Foundation for Kalgan and you, he submitted to emotional surgery of a drastic nature. Do you think it was sufficient to deceive you? Do you think Bail Channis, mentally untouched, could possibly deceive you? No, Bail Channis was himself deceived, of necessity and voluntarily. Down to the inmost core of his mind, Bail Channis honestly believes that Rossem is the Second Foundation. "And for three years now, we of the Second Foundation have built up the appearance of that here in the Kingdom of Tazenda, in preparation and waiting for you. And we have succeeded, have we not? You penetrated to Tazenda, and beyond that, to Rossem ?but past that, you could not go." The Mule was upon his feet: "You dare tell me that Rossem also, is not the Second Foundation?" Channis, from the floor, felt his bonds burst for good, under a stream of mental force on the part of the First Speaker and strained upright. He let out one long, incredulous cry: "You mean Rossem is not the Second Foundation?" The memories of life, the knowledge of his mind ?everything ?whirled mistily about him in confusion. The First Speaker smiled: "You see, First Citizen, Channis is as upset as you are. Of course, Rossem is not the Second Foundation. Are we madmen then, to lead you, our greatest, most powerful, most dangerous enemy to our own world? Oh, no! "Let your Fleet bombard Rossem, First Citizen, if you must have it so. Let them destroy all they can. For at most they can kill only Channis and myself ?and that will leave you in a situation improved not in the least. "For the Second Foundation's Expedition to Rossem which has been here for three years and has functioned, temporarily, as Elders in this village, embarked yesterday and are returning to Kalgan. They will evade your Fleet, of course, and they will arrive in Kalgan at least a day before you can, which is why I tell you all this. Unless I countermand my orders, when you return, you will find a revolting Empire, a disintegrated realm, and only the men with you in your Fleet here will be loyal to you. They will be hopelessly outnumbered. And moreover, the men of the Second Foundation will be with your Home Fleet and will see to it that you reconvert no one. Your Empire is done, mutant." Slowly, the Mule bowed his head, as anger and despair cornered his mind completely, "Yes. Too late?Too late?Now I see it." "Now you see it," agreed the First Speaker, "and now you don't." In the despair of that moment, when the Mule's mind lay open, the First Speaker ?ready for that moment and pre-sure of its nature ?entered quickly. It required a rather insignificant fraction of a second to consummate the change completely. The Mule looked up and said: "Then I shall return to Kalgan? "Certainly. How do you feel?" "Excellently well." His brow puckered: "Who are you?" "Does it matter?" "Of course not." He dismissed the matter, and touched Pritcher's shoulder: "Wake up, Pritcher, we're going home." It was two hours later that Bail Channis felt strong enough to walk by himself. He said: "He won't ever remember?" "Never. He retains his mental powers and his Empire ?but his motivations are now entirely different. The notion of a Second Foundation is a blank to him, and he is a man of peace. He will be a far happier man henceforward, too, for the few years of life left him by his maladjusted physique. And then, after he is dead Seldon's Plan will go on ?somehow." "And it is true," urged Channis, "it is true that Rossem is not the Second Foundation? I could swear ?I tell you I know it is. I am not mad." "You are not mad, Channis, merely, as I have said, changed. Rossem is not the Second Foundation. Come! We, too, will return home." LAST INTERLUDE Bail Channis sat in the small white-tiled room and allowed his mind to relax. He was content to live in the present. There were the walls and the window and the grass outside. They had no names. They were just things. There was a bed and a chair an books that developed themselves idly on the screen at the foot of his bed. There was the nurse who brought him his food. At first he had made efforts to piece together the scraps of things he had heard. Such as those two men talking together. One had said: "Complete aphasia now. It抯 cleaned out, and I think without damage. It will only be necessary to return the recording of his original brain-wave makeup." He remembered the sounds by rote, and for some reason they seemed peculiar sounds ?as if they meant something. But why bother. Better to watch the pretty changing colors on the screen at the foot of the thing he lay on. And then someone entered and did things to him and for a long time, he slept. And when that had passed, the bed was suddenly a bed and he knew he was in a hospital, and the words he remembered made sense. He sat up: "What's happening?" The First Speaker was beside him, "You're on the Second Foundation, and you have your mind back ?your original mind." "Yes! Yes!" Channis came to the realization that he was himself, and there was incredible triumph and joy in that. "And now tell me," said the First Speaker, "do you know where the Second Foundation is now?" And the truth came flooding down in one enormous wave and Channis did not answer. Like Ebling Mis before him, he was conscious of only one vast, numbing surprise. Until he finally nodded, and said: "By the Stars of the Galaxy ?now, I know." 第六章 一人、骡与第三者   多年以来,骡第一次对自己的手法感到信心动摇。程尼斯则很清楚他虽然暂时得以自保,多年以来,骡第一次对自己的手法感到信心动摇。程尼斯则很清楚他虽然而他实在不应该动这个念头。将情感的弱点暴露给骡,无异向他奉上一柄致命的武器。在骡的心灵中,已经隐约浮现出一丝不同的情绪——胜者的情绪。 必须设法争取时间…… 其他人为什么还不来呢?难道这就是骡的自信来源吗?他的对手究竟知道哪些自己不知道的事?他紧盯着对方的心灵,可是却毫无发现。如果自己有办法看透他人的心思就好了,不过…… 程尼斯猛力煞住纷乱不堪的思绪,只让自己的精神集中在一个念头上,那就是争取时间…… 程尼斯说:“既然你已经确定,而在我们借着普利吉小斗一番之后,我也不想再否认我是第二基地的人。可否请你告诉我,你认为我为什么要到达辛德来?” “喔,不,”骡大笑起来,笑声高亢而充满自信。然后他说,“我并不是普利吉,我不需要对你作任何解释。你有许多自以为是的理由,不管那些理由是什么,你的行动符合我的需要,我也就懒得追问下去。” “可是在你对整件事的认知中,一定还有许多盲点——达辛德真的就是你要找的第二基地吗?普利吉对我提过你以前所做的努力,还有成为你的工具的那位心理学家——艾布林•米斯。在我的……嗯……轻微的鼓励之下,他不时会吐露一些这类的历史。你回想一下艾布林•米斯,第一公民。” “我为什么要这么做?”声音中充满了自信。 程尼斯感到那股自信几乎快要满溢出来,似乎是随着时间的流逝,骡本来可能还残存的不安情绪,如今已经渐渐消失了。 他尽力克制住绝望的情绪,又说:“那么你并没有什么好奇心?普利吉告诉我米斯曾经大吃一惊,因为他发现了某个真相,所以拼了命也要争取时间,想要尽早警告第二基地。艾布林•米斯已经死了,第二基地未曾接到警告,可是却仍然存在。为什么?为什么呢?” 此时骡竟然开怀大笑起来,程尼斯惊觉到一股残酷的情绪突然逼近,却又在下一瞬间撤回。然后骡才答道:“不过第二基地显然已经收到警告,否则的话,这位拜尔•程尼斯怎么能——又为何会到卡尔根进行活动,对我的手下动手脚,还妄想对我耍阴谋诡计?第二基地当然接到了警告,只不过太迟了点而已。” “那么,”程尼斯故意流露出同情的情绪,“你甚至不知道第二基地究竟是什么样的组织。那些具有更深含意的各个事件,你也完全不明白它们的真正意义。” 纯粹只是为了拖延时间! 骡感觉到了对方的揶揄,他的眼睛眯起来,并且闪出一丝敌意。他又习惯性地用四根指头摸了摸鼻子,陡然迸出一句:“那么,我就让你说个过瘾吧,第二基地究竟有什么秘密?” 程尼斯故意改用普通的语言,不再使用情感信息符号。他说:“据我所知,最令艾布林•米斯感到疑惑困扰的,就是包围着第二基地的重重神秘。哈里•谢顿竟然用完全不同的方式设立那两个基地,第一基地的一切都光明正大,它明刀明枪地不断扩展,在短短两个世纪间,声名就已传遍半个银河;反之,第二基地却始终隐藏在黑暗的深渊中。” “你绝不可能了解其中的道理,除非你能重塑那个垂死帝国当年的学术气氛。那是一个宏伟的大时代,至少在思想上如此,各式各样的世纪末思潮百家争鸣。当然,其时已经出现了文化倾颓的征兆,因为帝国已开始防堵思想进一步的发展。谢顿之所以能够名垂青史,就是因为他挺身而出,勇敢地与那些学术发展的绊脚石抗争。他所放出的最后一点创造性火花,不但辉映着第一银河帝国的落日残照,而且也预示了第二帝国的旭日初升。” “非常戏剧化,后来呢?” “因此,他根据心理史学的定律,亲手设立了两个基地。然而,那些定律却并非绝对的,这一点谢顿比任何人都更加了解。所以他没有做出任何成品,因为成品只是为退化的心灵准备的。他的心血结晶是一种不断演化的机制,而第二基地正是演化的原动力。我们——短命行星联邦的第一公民,我告诉你——我们才是谢顿计划的守护者,只有我们才能做到这一点!” “你想拿这些话来为自己壮胆吗?”骡用轻蔑的语气问道:“还是你想说服我?老实告诉你,不论是第二基地、谢顿计划,或是第二帝国,我全都不屑一顾。它们也激不起我一点点的同情、怜悯、责任感,或者任何你试图投射给我的情感。从现在开始,可怜的傻子,你得用过去式来描述第二基地,因为它已经被摧毁了。” 当骡自椅子中起身,向程尼斯走近时,程尼斯发觉压迫他心灵的情感势能陡然增强。他拼命抵抗,却感到体内有什么东西在爬动,无情地敲击、扭搅他的心灵,拉扯着他的精神力量。 他发现自己已经背对着墙壁。骡就在他面前,皮包骨的双臂插在腰际,在硕大无比的鼻子之下,嘴唇扯出一个可怖的笑容。 骡又开口说:“你的游戏已经结束了,程尼斯。你们这些人——所有那些曾经隶属于第二基地的人——你们的游戏通通结束了,结束了!结束了!” “你在此地等待了那么久的时间,你对普利吉喋喋不休,差点不动一根指头就把他击倒、抢走他的核铳。你这么做是为了什么?你就是在等我,对不对?你准备布置出一种假相,让我来到时不至于太起疑心。” “只可惜我根本不必起疑,因为我早就看穿你,彻底看穿你了,第二基地的程尼斯。” “可是现在你又在等什么呢?你仍旧拼命对我滔滔不绝,好像以为可以用声波将我禁锢在椅子上。而在你说话的这段时间,你的心中却又有另一个念头——等待、等待、等待,直到现在依旧如此。但是根本没有任何人到来,你所等待的人——你的盟友一个都没有来。你落单了,程尼斯,而且这种情况永远不会改变,你知道为什么吗?” “因为你的第二基地对我完全估计错误。我早就知道他们的计划,他们以为我跟踪到这里来之后,就可以让他们任意宰割。你的确是一个诱饵没错——用来诱出这个可怜、愚蠢、孱弱的突变种,因为他是多么热衷于建立一个帝国,所以会对脚下明显的陷阱视而不见。可是现在你看,我像是他们的阶下囚吗?” “我不知道他们有没有想过,我每到任何一处,几乎毫无例外都有舰队跟随。面对我的舰队,即使是其中最小的一支武力,他们也完全束手无策。我也不知道他们有没有想过,我不会为了谈判而中止行动,也不会由于任何变化而按兵不动。” “十二个小时以前,我的舰队就已经开始对达辛德发动攻击,他们的任务执行得非常、非常彻底。达辛德如今已成为一片焦土,人口集中的地区全被夷为平地,根本没有遇到任何抵抗。第二基地已经不复存在,程尼斯——而我,我这个丑怪孱弱的畸形人,终于成了全银河的统治者。” 听了这些话,程尼斯只能缓缓地摇头喘息:“不可能——不可能——” “可能——可能——”骡故意模仿着他的语气,然后又说,“如果你是最后一名幸存者——这是很有可能的,却也活不了多久啦。” 接着出现了一阵短暂而意味深长的停顿。忽然之间,程尼斯感到心灵深处全被贯穿,随之而来的是一阵撕心裂肺的痛楚,令他几乎发出了呻吟。 骡及时收回了精神力量,喃喃说道:“不够,你并没有通过这个测验。你的绝望是装出来的,你的恐惧感还不够强烈,那并非理想破灭所应有的反应,只是个人处于生死关头的微弱恐惧。” 骡伸出瘦弱的手掌,轻轻扼住程尼斯的喉部,可是程尼斯就是无法挣脱。 “你是我的保障,程尼斯。如果我低估了任何事情,你可以提醒我,还能够保护我。”骡的眼睛向下凝视他,坚决要得到答案。 “我的计算都正确吗,程尼斯?我的谋略是否战胜了你们第二基地的人马?达辛德被摧毁了,程尼斯,彻彻底底被摧毁了,你的绝望为何还需要假装呢?真相究竟是什么?我一定要知道真相和实情!说话,程尼斯,说话啊,是不是我洞察得还不够透彻?危险依然存在吗?开口回答我,程尼斯,我到底做错了哪一点?” 程尼斯感到一字一句从口中被扯出来,完全违背了自己的意愿。他咬紧牙关,想要阻止自己发声,甚至咬住舌头,还绷紧了喉咙的每一根神经。 可是那些话仍旧脱口而出,他大口喘着气,任由一股强大的力量拉扯着他的喉咙、舌头、牙齿,一路将那些话硬扯了出来。 “真相是,”他尖声地说,“真相——” “没错,我要知道真相,还有什么没做到的?” “谢顿将第二基地设在这里,我早就说是这里,我并没有说谎。当初那些心理学家来到这个世界,控制了本地的居民。” “达辛德?”骡再度深入对方翻腾而痛苦的心灵之中,毫下留情地肆意翻找,同时问道,“可是我已经将达辛德毁灭了,你知道我要什么,快告诉我。” “不是达辛德。我说过,第二基地的人也许不是表面上的掌权者,而达辛德只是一个傀儡……”他说的话几乎没有人听得懂,每一个字都违背了他的心意。 最后,他终于说了出来:“罗珊……罗珊……罗珊才是你要找的世界……” 骡松了手,程尼斯立刻痛苦地缩成一团。 “你原来想要骗我吗?”骡轻声地说。 “你的确上当了。”这是程尼斯所能做的最后一点反击。 “可是你们没有争取到足够的时间。我一直与我的舰队保持联络,他们解决了达辛德之后,下一个目标就是罗珊。不过首先——” 此时,程尼斯又感到那种令人无法忍受的黑暗铺天盖地而来。他下意识伸出手臂,挡在痛苦不堪的双眼前,可是却无法阻挡这一波攻势。这片黑暗几乎令他窒息,他还觉得受创的心灵蹒跚地向后退却,退到了永恒的黑暗之中——那里有骡得意洋洋的表情,好像一根开怀大笑的火柴棒,又粗又长的鼻子在笑声中不停地摇摆。 笑声不久之后便完全消退,只剩下黑暗紧紧拥抱着他。直到另一种感觉突然进现,仿佛是一道锯齿状的强烈闪电,驱走周围无边的黑暗。程尼斯渐渐清醒过来,视觉也慢慢恢复,溢满泪水的双眼已能看到一个模糊的影像。 头痛简直令他无法忍受。他必须承受着巨大的痛楚,才能将一只手抬到头部。 他可以确定自己还活着。他的思绪就像被气流卷起的羽毛一样,此时又缓缓落回地面,终于再度恢复静止。现在他感到体内充斥着一股舒畅的暖流——那是从外面钻进来的。他强忍剧痛,试着慢慢扭动颈部,却又带来一阵锥心刺骨的痛楚。 现在门又打开了,第二基地的首席发言者已经进入室内,就站在门槛的旁边。程尼斯想要说话,想要大叫,想要发出警告——却发现舌头早已僵住,这才知道骡的威猛心灵仍未完全放开他,仍然钳制住他的发声器官。 程尼斯再度转动脖子,看到骡依旧在房间内,愤怒的双眼几乎冒出火来。他不再张口大笑,但却露出了牙齿,展现出一个狰狞的笑容。 程尼斯此时可以感觉到,首席发言者的精神力量在他的心灵中轻巧地腾挪,正在为他疗伤止痛。可是不久之后,它就遇到了骡的防御,只经过短暂的缠斗便被击退,一阵麻木的感觉再度袭向程尼斯。 怒火充满了骡的瘦弱身躯,使他看起来更加丑怪。他咬牙切齿地说:“好像又有一个人前来欢迎我了。”他的心灵伸出灵巧的触须,一直伸到室外,并且继续延伸……延伸…… “你是单枪匹马来的。”他说。 首席发言者点了点头,然后说:“我绝对只有一个人,我有必要这么做。因为在五年之前,我对你的未来计算错误,所以我有一个小小的心愿,那就是由我自己独力扭转局势。不幸的是,我没想到你布下的情感禁制场威力如此之强,花了我好久的时间才将它破解。你能够做到这一步,我实在应该赞赏你的能力。” “我一点也不稀罕你的恭维,”骡凶狠地回答:“你少来这一套。你到达此地,是不是要用你那少得可怜的精神力量,来救你们这位快要崩溃的栋梁之才?” 首席发言者微笑着说:“你称之为拜尔•程尼斯的这个人,已经圆满达成了他的任务,由于他的精神力量根本不是你的对手,所以他的表现更加难能可贵。当然,我看得出来,你让他吃了不少苦头,可是我们也许还有办法使他完全复原。他是一个勇敢的人,阁下,这个任务是他自动争取的。虽然事前我们已经用数学推算出来,他的心灵受重创的机会极大——这种下场比单纯的肉体残废更可怕。” 程尼斯在心中拼命地挣扎,想要大声发出警告,可是根本就做不到。他惟一能发出的只有恐惧的情绪——持续不断的恐惧。 骡用冷静的口气说:“你当然已经知道达辛德被毁灭了。” “我知道,我们早已预见你的舰队会发动攻击。” 骡转以冷酷的声音说:“是的,不出我所料。可是你们却未能阻止,是吗?” “没有,没有能够阻止。”首席发言者的情感信息符号表达得很清楚,几乎是全然自怨自责与恶心憎恶的情绪。他又补充道,“对于这个错误,其实我必须负比你更大的责任。五年以前,谁能够想像你的力量会这么大?我们从一开始——当你攻下卡尔根的时候——就已经怀疑你拥有控制情感的能力。这一点我们并不惊讶,第一公民,我现在就可以解释给你听。” “像你我所拥有的这种精神力量,其实并不是什么新奇的异能,事实上,它始终潜伏在人类的大脑中。大多数的人都能察觉他人最表层的情感,比如说根据面部的表情、说话的语气等等。许多动物在这方面的天赋更高,例如可以利用嗅觉达到很多功能,当然,其中牵涉到的情感则较为简单。” “人类这一方面的能力其实潜力极大,可是在距今百万年之前,随着语言的逐渐发展,情感直接接触的机能便慢慢萎缩。我们第二基地的最大成就,就是将这个沉睡的感官唤醒,使它至少恢复到某种程度。” “然而我们并非生来就是如此,百万年的退化是一个艰难的障碍。我们必须锻炼这种感官,就像锻炼自己的肌肉一样。可是你却完全不同,你的能力是与生俱来的。” “我们既然能够计算出这些,也就能够计算出一个具有这种能力的人,在普通人的世界中所造成的效应,就像明眼人到了盲人国那样。我们算出了你的自大对自己的影响程度,并且认为我们已经有所准备。但是,我们忽略了两个重要的因素。” “第一点,是你的精神力量有效范围极广。我们的精神接触只能在目力所及的范围内施行,因为视觉扮演了一个极重要的角色。基于这个原因,当我们面对普通武器的时候,我们比你想像中的更加无助。可是你却没有这种限制,我们现在已经可以确定,你不但能够以精神力量控制他人,而且在视觉与听觉的范围之外,仍然可以和他们维持密切的情感联系。这一点,我们发现得太晚了。” “第二点,我们当初并不知道你有肉体上的缺陷,尤其是你将这个缺陷看得那么严重,甚至因此自称为‘骡’。你不仅是个突变种,而且是个没有生殖能力的突变种,这是我们未曾预见的。你的自卑感所引发的异常心理,在开始的时候被我们忽略了。我们本来只是准备对付一名夸大狂,而非一个精神严重错乱的偏执狂。” “我自己应该对这些失算负全部责任,因为当你攻陷卡尔根的时候,我就已经是第二基地的领导者。而在你占领了第一基地之后,我们才终于发现一切真相——不过却为时已晚——由于这个错误,导致了达辛德数百万人葬送了性命。” “所以你现在想要扭转乾坤吗?”骡的两片薄唇扭曲着,心中充满了恨意。他又说,“你准备怎么做?把我养胖?帮我恢复男性雄风?从我的过去历史中,将我凄惨的童年一笔勾销?你同情我的痛苦遭遇吗?你会为我的悲伤而难过吗?对于我不得不做的这一切,我一点都不感到后悔。当我最需要保护的时候,全银河没有任何人伸出半只援手,现在就让银河尽力自卫吧。” “当然,”首席发言者说:“你的情感是过去的背景所造成的,我们实在不应该苛责——只应该设法改变。达辛德的毁灭是无可避免的命运,否则,另一个结果是整个银河遭到更严重的破坏,而且将会持续数个世纪。我们已经在能力范围内尽了最大的努力,尽可能将达辛德的居民撤离,无法撤走的也让他们尽量疏散。可惜的是,我们所做的比真正需要的少得太多,害得数百万人因而丧生——你难道不觉得遗憾吗?” “一点也不会——六小时后,罗珊的十几万居民也全都会死光,而我也一样毫不感觉遗憾。” “罗珊的?”首席发言者迅速问道,然后转身面向程尼斯。 程尼斯勉力维持半坐的姿势,不断运用精神力量支撑着。突然,他觉得有两个心灵在自己身上决战,接着就感到精神枷锁被解开来。他立刻吐出一大串话:“发言者,我彻底失败了。在您抵达之前十分钟,他逼使我说出真相。我没有能力抵抗,也没有办法扯谎。他已经知道达辛德不是第二基地,他已经知道罗珊才是。” 此时,那些精神枷锁又重新闭合,再度将他紧紧困住。 首席发言者皱着眉说:“我懂了,你现在计划要怎么做?” “你真的不知道吗?你真的看不透这么明显的事实吗?刚才你在对我说教,告诉我情感接触的本质,用夸大狂、偏执狂那些字眼骂我的时候,我其实正忙着呢。我又跟我的舰队联络了一次,而他们已经接到了命令。六个小时之内,除非有什么理由让我收回成命,否则他们会开始轰炸整个罗珊,只留下这个小村庄,以及周围一百平方英里的范围。他们会彻底执行这个任务,然后全部降落此地。” “你还有六个小时,而在这六个小时中,你无法击倒我的心灵,也不可能拯救整个罗珊。” 骡摊开双手,再度发出狂笑,而首席发言者似乎无法接受这个新的情势。 他说:“有没有另外一条路?” “为什么一定要有另一条路?另一条路对我绝对没有好处。我应该心疼罗珊居民的性命吗?也许,如果你们允许我的星舰安然降落,而且你们全部——所有的第二基地分子——都置于我的精神控制之下,让我感到满意的话,我可能就会撤回轰炸的命令。能够掌握这么多高级的头脑,想必是很值得的事情。不过这样做可能得花很大力气,或许根本就得不偿失,所以我也并不特别希望你会同意。你怎么说呢,第二基地人?你究竟有什么武器,能够对付一个至少和你具有相同威力的心灵?还有连你做梦也想像不到的强大舰队?” “我有什么武器?”首席发言者慢慢将这个问题重复一遍,然后回答说,“根本什么都没有——除了一点点——一点点连你都还不知道的情报。” “那就快点说,”骡笑着说道,“舞动你的三寸不烂之舌吧。你即使滑得像一条泥鳅,这回也逃不出我的手掌心。” “可怜的突变种啊,”首席发言者说,“我根本就不想溜走。问问你自己——为什么拜尔•程尼斯会被送到卡尔根当作诱饵?拜尔•程尼斯虽然既年轻又勇敢,可是他的精神力量跟你相比,和你那位正在呼呼大睡的军官汉•普利吉也差不多。为什么我不亲自出马,或者选派我们其他的领导者,那些可以跟你匹敌的人,来执行这一次的任务呢?” “或许,”骡的回答信心十足,“你还没笨到那种程度。因为可能你也明白,你们没有一个是我的对手。” “真正的理由其实更合乎逻辑——你知道程尼斯是第二基地的人,他并没有能力瞒过你这一点。此外,你也知道他不是你的对手,所以不怕将计就计,索性依照他的计划跟踪而至,以便最后反过来将他制住。假如当初是我到卡尔根去,由于我会对你构成真正的威胁,你可能会将我杀害。即使我有办法将身份隐藏得很好,因而保住性命,也很难让你从太空一路跟踪我到此地。就是因为你明知程尼斯不足为惧,所以才会被引诱出来。如果你留在卡尔根的话,在你的人马、你的武器、你的精神力量重重保护之下,第二基地倾全力也无法动你一根汗毛。” “我的精神力量如今仍旧存在,老狐狸。”骡说,“而我的人马、我的武器也并非远在天边。” “一点都没错,然而你并不在卡尔根,你如今身在达辛德王国境内。你以为达辛德就是第二基地,认为一切都合情合理,而这却是我们精心策划的结果。因为你是一个精明至极的人物,第一公民,你只相信合乎逻辑的事情。” “说得很对,但那只能让你们暂时得意一下。我还来得及从你们的人——程尼斯的口中挖掘出真相。而我也至少还有头脑,知道这种真相应该存在。” “不过我们这一方——并非那么狡诈的一方,已经料到你会这么做,所以才特别为你准备了拜尔•程尼斯。” “那我确定他有负所托。因为我将他的脑子掏得一干二净,像掏光一只烤鸡的五脏六腑一样。他的心灵在我的脚下颤抖,对我完全开放,完全赤裸。当他说罗珊就是第二基地的时候,说的是百分之百的实话。我已经将他的心灵全部摊开辗平,检视了每一个微观的隙缝,即使再小的谎言也无所遁形。” “完全正确,比我们预料的还要好。我刚才已经跟你说过,拜尔•程尼斯是一名志愿者,你知道他志愿做的是什么事吗?在他到卡尔根去投效你之前,接受了一种彻底的心灵改造手术。你认为这样做,能不能够瞒得过你?如果拜尔•程尼斯的心灵从来未曾被改造过,你以为他可能骗得了你吗?其实,拜尔•程尼斯自己也被蒙在鼓里,不过那是必需的手段,也是他自愿接受的。在他的心灵中,从最深处的核心到最外的表层,拜尔•程尼斯都老老实实地相信罗珊就是第二基地。” “三年以来,我们第二基地在达辛德王国所布置的这一切,就是为了要等待你来自投罗网。我们现在已经成功了,你说对不对?你找到达辛德,进而又找到了罗珊——可是到此为止线索就全断了。” 骡倏地站了起来:“难道你敢说,罗珊也非第二基地?” 倒在地上的程尼斯,此时感到首席发言者又发出一股力量,将他的精神枷锁完全撕裂开来。他立刻一跃而起,不可置信地吼道:“您说罗珊不是第二基地?”他过去所有的记忆,心中所装载的各种知识,一切的一切——现在全都混淆不清,模模糊糊地绕着他拼命打转。 首席发言者笑道:“你看,第一公民,程尼斯表现得像你一样愤怒。当然,罗珊并不是第二基地。我们难道都是疯子吗?竟然会引领你——我们最强、最大、最危险的敌人——来到我们自己的世界?哦,我们绝不会那样做!” “让你的舰队来轰炸罗珊吧,第一公民,如果你非得这么做的话。让他们尽力摧毁一切吧,因为他们顶多只能将程尼斯和我两人杀掉——可是这样做,一点也无法改善你目前的处境。” “其实,第二基地的远征军早在三年前就来到罗珊,一直以本村长老的身份在活动。他们昨天已经离开此地,正向卡尔根进发。当然,他们会避开你的舰队,至少能比你早一天到达卡尔根,这就是我敢把一切都告诉你的原因。现在除非是我收回成命,当你回到卡尔根的时候,将会面临一个叛乱四起、四分五裂的帝国,只有跟你到这里来的舰队才会继续效忠,而他们绝不可能以寡敌众。此外,第二基地的人将会渗入你的后备舰队,确保你无法再将任何人重新回转。你的帝国已经完蛋了,突变种。” 骡缓缓垂下头,愤怒与绝望的情绪占满他的内心。他说:“是的,太晚了——太晚了——现在我懂了。” “现在你懂了,”首席发言者重复道,却又加了一句,“现在你又不懂了。” 骡的心灵由于绝望而门户大开,首席发言者等的正是这个千载难逢的机会。他立刻钻进去,只花了万分之一秒的时间,就顺利完成了对骡的改造。 骡抬起头来,问道:“那么我应该回卡尔根去?” “当然,你感觉怎么样?” “感觉非常好,”他皱起眉头说,“你是谁?” “这有什么关系吗?” “当然没有。”他立即抛下这个念头,拍拍普利吉的肩膀说,“醒来,普利吉,我们要回家了。” 两个小时之后,拜尔•程尼斯终于觉得自己能够行动了。他说:“他不会再想起来吗?” “永远不会。他仍会保有他的精神力量,以及他所建立的帝国,但他的动机完全改变了。第二基地这个念头如今已成为一片空白,他也变成了一个和平主义者。而且从今以后,他会比以前快乐,就这样度过他的余生。由于他的身体机能失调,他已经没有几年好活了。等他死后,谢顿计划便会继续——总会继续下去的。” “这么说的话,”程尼斯追问,“罗珊真的不是第二基地?我可以发誓——我告诉您,我知道它明明就是,我可没有精神错乱。” “你并没有精神错乱,程尼斯,正如我所说的,只不过是被改造了。罗珊并不是第二基地——走吧!我们也该回家去了。” 拜尔•程尼斯坐在贴满白色瓷砖的小房间中,让心灵完全放松开来。此刻他感到相当满意。房间中有墙有窗,外面还有草地,然而这些对他而言只是“东西”,它们全都没有名字。在他的床脚有一个荧幕,上面呆板地映着一张床、一把椅子,以及许多书籍。护士每天进来几回,为他送来各种不知名的食物。 最初,他并没有试图将听到的零星声音凑在一起,例如下列两个人的对话。 其中一个人说:“现在的症状是完全的失语症,这表示已经清理干净,我想他没有受到什么伤害。我们接下来需要做的,只是将他原来的脑波记录再输回去。” 他将那些声音硬记了起来。不知道为什么,那些声音好像十分特殊——似乎代表了某种意义。可是,又何必操这个心呢? 还不如躺在这个东西上面,看着前方那个东西显现的色彩变幻。这有趣多了。 然后有一个人进来,对他做了一件事情。于是他就睡着了,沉睡了很久很久。 当他醒来之后,“床”就是“床”了,而他也知道自己是在一间医院中。他记住的那些声音,全都变成了有意义的语言。 他坐起来,问道:“发生了什么事?” 首席发言者就站在旁边,他说:“现在你在第二基地上,你的心智——你原来的心智——已经恢复了。” “是的!是的!”程尼斯想起了自己的身份,因而感到无比的骄傲与喜悦。 “现在告诉我,”首席发言者说,“你知道第二基地在哪里吗?” 在程尼斯的心中,真相如巨浪般排山倒海地涌出来。不过他却没有立即回答,就像当年的艾布林•米斯一样,他体会到一阵巨大而令人麻木的惊愕。 最后他终于点了点头,并且说:“银河众星在上——现在,我知道了。” PART II SEARCH BY THE FOUNDATION 7 Arcadia DARELL, ARKADY novelist, born 11, 5, 362 F.E., died 1, 7, 443 F.E. Although primarily a writer of fiction, Arkady Darell is best known for her biography of her grandmother, Bayta Darell. Based on first-hand information, it has for centuries served as a primary source of information concerning the Mule and his times. ... Like "Unkeyed Memories", her novel "Time and Time and Over" is a stirring reflection of the brilliant Kalganian society of the early Interregnum, based, it is said, on a visit to Kalgan in her youth.... ENCYCLOPEDIA GALACTICA Arcadia Darell declaimed firmly into the mouthpiece of her transcriber: "The Future of Seldon's Plan, by A. Darell" and then thought darkly that some day when she was a great writer, she would write all her masterpieces under the pseudonym of Arkady. Just Arkady. No last name at all. "A. Darell" would be just the sort of thing that she would have to put on all her themes for her class in Composition and Rhetoric ?so tasteless. All the other kids had to do it, too, except for Olynthus Dam, because the class laughed so when he did it the first time, And "Arcadia" was a little girls name, wished on her because her great-grandmother had been called that; her parents just had no imagination at all. Now that she was two days past fourteen, you'd think they'd recognize the simple fact of adulthood and call her Arkady. Her lips tightened as she thought of her father looking up from his book-viewer just long enough to say, "But if you're going to pretend you're nineteen, Arcadia, what will you do when you're twenty-five and all the boys think you're thirty?" From where she sprawled across the arms and into the hollow of her own special armchair, she could see the mirror on her dresser. Her foot was a little in the way because her house slipper kept twirling about her big toe, so she pulled it in and sat up with an unnatural straightness to her neck that she felt sure, somehow, lengthened it a full two inches into slim regality. For a moment, she considered her face thoughtfully ?too fat. She opened her jaws half an inch behind closed lips, and caught the resultant trace of unnatural gauntness at every angle. She licked her lips with a quick touch of tongue and let them pout a bit in moist softness. Then she let her eyelids droop in a weary, worldly way?Oh, golly if only her cheeks weren't that silly pink. She tried putting her fingers to the outer comers of her eye and tilting the lids a bit to get that mysterious exotic languor of the women of the inner star systems, but her hands were in the way and she couldn't see her face very well. Then she lifted her chin, caught herself at a half-profile, and with her eyes a little strained from looking out the comer and her neck muscles faintly aching, she said, in a voice one octave below its natural pitch, "Really, father, if you think it makes a particle of difference to me what some silly old boys think you just? And then she remembered that she still had the transmitter open in her hand and said, drearily, "Oh, golly," and shut it off. The faintly violet paper with the peach margin line on the left had upon it the following: "THE FUTURE OF SELDON'S PLAN "Really, father, if you think it makes a particle of difference to me what some silly old boys think you just "Oh, golly." She pulled the sheet out of the machine with annoyance and another clicked neatly into place. But her face smoothed out of its vexation, nevertheless, and her wide, little mouth stretched into a self-satisfied smile. She sniffed at the paper delicately. just right. Just that proper touch of elegance and charm. And the penmanship was just the last word. The machine had been delivered two days ago on her first adult birthday. She had said, "But father, everybody ?just everybody in the class who has the slightest pretensions to being anybody has one. Nobody but some old drips would use hand machines? The salesman had said, "There is no other model as compact on the one hand aaaaas adaptable on the other. It will spell and punctuate correctly according to the sense of the sentence. Naturally, it is a great aid to education since it encourages the user to employ careful enunciation and breathing in order to make sure of the correct spelling, to say nothing of demanding a proper and elegant delivery for correct punctuation." Even then her father had tried to get one geared for type-print as if she were some dried-up, old-maid teacher. But when it was delivered, it was the model she wanted ?obtained perhaps with a little more wail and sniffle than quite went with the adulthood of fourteen ?and copy was turned out in a charming and entirely feminine handwriting, with the most beautifully graceful capitals anyone ever saw. Even the phrase, "Oh, golly." somehow breathed glamour when the Transcriber was done with it. But just the same she had to get it right, so she sat up straight in her chair, placed her first draft before her in businesslike fashion, and began again, crisply and clearly; her abdomen flat, her chest lifted, and her breathing carefully controlled. She intoned, with dramatic fervor: The Future of Seldon's Plan. "The Foundation's past history is, I am sure, well-known to all of us who have had the good fortune to be educated in our planet's efficient and well-staffed school system. (There! That would start things off right with Miss Erlking, that mean old hag.) That past history is largely the past history of the great Plan of Hari Seldon. The two are one. But the question in the mind of most people today is whether this Plan will continue in all its great wisdom, or whether it will be foully destroyed, or, perhaps, has been so destroyed already. "To understand this, it may be best to pass quickly over some of the highlights of the Plan as it has been revealed to humanity thus far. (This part was easy because she had taken Modern History the semester before.) "In the days, nearly four centuries ago, when the First Galactic Empire was decaying into the paralysis that preceded final death, one man ?the great Hari Seldon ?foresaw the approaching end. Through the science of psychohistory, the intrissacies of whose mathematics has long since been forgotten, (She paused in a trifle of doubt. She was sure that "intricacies" was pronounced with soft c's but the spelling didn't look right. Oh, well, the machine couldn't very well be wrong? he and the men who worked with him are able to foretell the course of the great social and economic currents sweeping the Galaxy at the time. It was possible for them to realize that, left to itself, the Empire would break up, and that thereafter there would be at least thirty thousand years of anarchic chaos prior to the establishment of a new Empire. "It was too late to prevent the great Fall, but it was still possible, at least, to cut short the intermediate period of chaos. The Plan was, therefore, evolved whereby only a single millennium would separate the Second Empire from the First. We are completing the fourth century of that millennium, and many generations of men have lived and died while the Plan has continued its inexorable workings. "Hari Seldon established two Foundations at the opposite ends of the Galaxy, in a manner and under such circumstances as would yield the best mathematical solution for his psychohistorical problem. In one of these, our Foundation, established here on Terminus, there was concentrated the physical science of the Empire, and through the possession of that science, the Foundation was able to withstand the attacks of the barbarous kingdoms which had broken away and become independent, out at the hinge of the Empire. "The Foundation, indeed, was able to conquer in its turn these short-lived kingdoms by means of the leadership of a series of wise and heroic men like Salvor Hardin and Hober Mallow who were able to interpret the Plan intelligently and to guide our land through its (She had written "intricacies" here also, but decided not to risk it a second time.) complications. All our planets still revere their memories although centuries have passed. "Eventually, the Foundation established a commercial system which controlled a large portion of the Siwennian and Anacreonian sectors of the Galaxy, and even defeated the remnants of the old Empire under its last great general, Bel Riose. It seemed that nothing could now stop the workings of Seldon's plan. Every crisis that Seldon had planned had come at its appropriate time and had been solved, and with each solution the Foundation had taken another giant stride toward Second Empire and peace. "And then, (Her breath came short at this point, and she hissed the word, between her teeth, but the Transmitter simply wrote them calmly and gracefully.) with the last remnants of the dead First Empire gone and with only ineffectual warlords ruling over the splinters and remnants of the decayed colossus, (She got that phrase out of a thriller on the video last week, but old Miss Erlking never listened to anything but symphonies and lectures, so she'd never know.) there came the Mule. "This strange man was not allowed for in the Plan. He was a mutant, whose birth could not have been predicted. He had strange and mysterious power of controlling and manipulating human emotions and in this manner could bend all men to his will. With breath-taking swiftness, he became a conqueror and Empire-builder, until, finally, he even defeated the Foundation itself. "Yet he never obtained universal dominion, since in his first overpowering lunge he was stopped by the wisdom and daring of a great woman (Now there was that old problem again. Father would insist that she never bring up the fact that she was the grandchild of Bayta Darell. Everyone knew it and Bayta was just about the greatest woman there ever was and she had stopped the Mule singlehanded.) in a manner the true story of which is known in its entirety to very few. (There! If she had to read it to the class, that last could he said in a dark voice, and someone would be sure to ask what the true story was, and then ?well, and then she couldn't help tell the truth if they asked her, could she? In her mind, she was already wordlessly whizzing through a hurt and eloquent explanation to a stern and questioning paternal parent.) "After five years of restricted rule, another change took place, the reasons for which are not known, and the Mule abandoned all plans for further conquest. His last five years were those of an enlightened despot. "It is said by some that the change in the Mule was brought about by the intervention of the Second Foundation. However, no man has ever discovered the exact location of this other Foundation, nor knows its exact function, so that theory remains unproven. "A whole generation has passed since the death of the Mule. What of the future, then, now that he has come and gone? He interrupted Seldon's Plan and seemed to have burst it to fragments, yet as soon as he died, the Foundation rose again, like a nova from the dead ashes of a dying star. (She had made that up herself.) Once again, the planet Terminus houses the center of a commercial federation almost as great and as rich as before the conquest, and even more peaceful and democratic. "Is this planned? Is Seldon's great dream still alive, and will a Second Galactic Empire yet be formed six hundred years from now? I, myself, believe so, because (This was the important part. Miss Erlking always had those large, ugly red-pencil scrawls that went: 'But this is only descriptive. What are your personal reactions? Think! Express yourself! Penetrate your own soul!' Penetrate your own soul. A lot she knew about souls, with her lemon face that never smiled in its life? never at any time has the political situation been so favorable. The old Empire is completely dead and the period of the Mule's rule put an end to the era of warlords that preceded him. Most of the surrounding portions of the Galaxy are civilized and peaceful. "Moreover the internal health of the Foundation is better than ever before. The despotic times of the pre-Conquest hereditary mayors have given way to the democratic elections of early times. There are no longer dissident worlds of independent Traders; no longer the injustices and dislocations that accompanied accumulations of great wealth in the hands of a few. "There is no reason, therefore, to fear failure, unless it is true that the Second Foundation itself presents a danger. Those who think so have no evidence to back their claim, but merely vague fears and superstitions. I think that our confidence in ourselves, in our nation, and in Hari Seldon's great Plan should drive from our hearts and minds all uncertainties and (Hm-mmm. This was awfully corny, but something like this was expected at the end.) so I say? That is as far as "The Future of Seldon's Plan" got, at that moment, because there was the gentlest little tap on the window, and when Arcadia shot up to a balance on one arm of the chair, she found herself confronted by a smiling face beyond the glass, its even symmetry of feature interestingly accentuated by the short, vertical fine of a finger before its lips. With the slight pause necessary to assume an attitude of bepuzzlement, Arcadia dismounted from the armchair, walked to the couch that fronted the wide window that held the apparition and, kneeling upon it, stared out thoughtfully. The smile upon the man's face faded quickly. While the fingers of one hand tightened whitely upon the sill, the other made a quick gesture. Arcadia obeyed calmly, and closed the latch that moved the lower third of the window smoothly into its socket in the wall, allowing the warm spring air to interfere with the conditioning within. "You can't get in," she said, with comfortable smugness. "The windows are all screened, and keyed only to people who belong here. If you come in, all sorts of alarms will break loose." A pause, then she added, "You look sort of silly balancing on that ledge underneath the window. If you're not careful, you'll fall and break your neck and a lot of valuable flowers." "In that case," said the man at the window, who had been thinking that very thing ?with a slightly different arrangement of adjectives?"will you shut off the screen and let me in?" "No use in doing that'" said Arcadia. "You're probably thinking of a different house, because I'm not the kind of girl who lets strange men into their ... her bedroom this time of night." Her eyes, as she said it, took on a heavy-lidded sultriness ?or an unreasonable facsimile thereof. All traces of humor whatever had disappeared from the young stranger's face. He muttered, "This is Dr. Darell's house, isn't it?" "Why should I tell you?" "Oh, Galaxy?Good-by? "If you jump off, young man, I will personally give the alarm." (This was intended as a refined and sophisticated thrust of irony, since to Arcadia's enlightened eyes, the intruder was an obviously mature thirty, at least ?quite elderly, in fact.) Quite a pause. Then, tightly, he said, "Well, now, look here, girlie, if you don't want me to stay, and don't want me to go, what do you want me to do?" "You can come in, I suppose. Dr. Darell does live here. I抣l shut off the screen now." Warily, after a searching look, the young man poked his hand through the window, then hunched himself up and through it. He brushed at his knees with an angry, slapping gesture, and lifted a reddened face at her. "You're quite sure that your character and reputation won't suffer when they find me here, are you?" "Not as much as yours would, because just as soon as I hear footsteps outside, I'll just shout and yell and say you forced your way in here." "Yes?" he replied with heavy courtesy, "And how do you intend to explain the shut-off protective screen?" "Poof! That would be easy. There wasn't any there in the first place." The man's eyes were wide with chagrin. "That was a bluff? How old are you, kid?" "I consider that a very impertinent question, young man. And I am not accustomed to being addressed as 'kid.'" "I don't wonder. You're probably the Mule's grandmother in disguise. Do you mind if I leave now before you arrange a lynching party with myself as star performer?" "You had better not leave ?because my father's expecting you." The man's look became a wary one, again. An eyebrow shot up as he said, lightly, "Oh? Anyone with your father?' "No." "Anyone called on him lately?' "Only tradespeople ?and you." "Anything unusual happen at all?" "Only you." "Forget me, will you? No, don't forget me. Tell me, how did you know your father was expecting me?" "Oh, that was easy. Last week, he received a Personal Capsule, keyed to him personally, with a self-oxidizing message, you know. He threw the capsule shell into the Trash Disinto, and yesterday, he gave Poli ?that's our maid, you see ?a month's vacation so she could visit her sister in Terminus City, and this afternoon, he made up the bed in the spare room. So I knew he expected somebody that I wasn't supposed to know anything about. Usually, he tells me everything." "Really! I'm surprised he has to. I should think you'd know everything before he tells you." 'I usually do." Then she laughed. She was beginning to feel very much at ease. The visitor was elderly, but very distinguished-looking with curly brown hair and very blue eyes. Maybe she could meet somebody like that again, sometimes, when she was old herself. "And just how," he asked, "did you know it was I he expected." "Well, who else could it be? He was expecting somebody in so secrety a way, if you know what I mean ?and then you come gumping around trying to sneak through windows, instead of walking through the front door, the way you would if you had any sense." She remembered a favorite line, and used it promptly. "Men are so stupid!" "Pretty stuck on yourself, aren't you, kid? I mean, Miss. You could be wrong, you know. What if I told you that all this is a mystery to me and that as far as I know, your father is expecting someone else, not me." "Oh, I don't think so. I didn't ask you to come in, until after I saw you drop your briefcase." "My what?" "Your briefcase, young man. I'm not blind. You didn't drop it by accident, because you looked down first, so as to make sure it would land right. Then you must have realized it would land just under the hedges and wouldn't be seen, so you dropped it and didn't look down afterwards. Now since you came to the window instead of the front door, it must mean that you were a little afraid to trust yourself in the house before investigating the place. And after you had a little trouble with me, you took care of your briefcase before taking care of yourself, which means that you consider whatever your briefcase has in it to be more valuable than your own safety, and that means that as long as you're in here and the briefcase is out there and we know that it's out there, you're probably pretty helpless." She paused for a much-needed breath, and the man said, grittily, "Except that I think I'll choke you just about medium dead and get out of here, with the briefcase." "Except, young man, that I happen to have a baseball bat under my bed, which I can reach in two seconds from where I'm sitting, and I'm very strong for a girl." Impasse. Finally, with a strained courtesy, the "young man" said, "Shall I introduce myself, since we're being so chummy. I'm Pelleas Anthor. And your name?" "I'm Arca?Arkady Darell. Pleased to meet you." "And now Arkady, would you be a good little girl and call your father?" Arcadia bridled. "I'm not a little girl. I think you're very rude ?especially when you're asking a favor." Pelleas Anthor sighed. "Very well. Would you be a good, kind, dear, little old lady, just chock full of lavender, and call your father?" "That's not what I meant either, but I抣l call him. Only not so I'll take my eyes off you, young man." And she stamped on the floor. There came the sound of hurrying footsteps in the hall, and the door was flung open. "Arcadia? There was a tiny explosion of exhaled air, and Dr. Darell said, "Who are you, sir?" Pelleas sprang to his feet in what was quite obviously relief. "Dr. Toran Darell? I am Pelleas Anthor. You've received word about me, I think. At least, your daughter says you have." "My daughter says I have?" He bent a frowning glance at her which caromed harmlessly off the wide-eyed and impenetrable web of innocence with which she met the accusation. Dr. Darell said, finally: "I have been expecting you. Would you mind coming down with me, please?" And he stopped as his eye caught a flicker of motion, which Arcadia caught simultaneously. She scrambled toward her Transcriber, but it was quite useless, since her father was standing right next to it. He said, sweetly, "You've left it going all this time, Arcadia." "Father," she squeaked, in real anguish, "it is very ungentlemanly to read another person's private correspondence, especially when it's talking correspondence." "Ah," said her father, "but 'talking correspondence' with a strange man in your bedroom! As a father, Arcadia, I must protect you against evil." "Oh, golly ?it was nothing like that." Pelleas laughed suddenly, "Oh, but it was, Dr. Darell. The young lady was going to accuse me of all sorts of things, and I must insist that you read it, if only to clear my name." "Oh? Arcadia held back her tears with an effort. Her own father didn't even trust her. And that darned Transcriber?If that silly fool hadn't come gooping at the window, and making her forget to turn it off. And now her father would be making long, gentle speeches about what young ladies aren't supposed to do. There just wasn't anything they were supposed to do, it looked like, except choke and die, maybe. "Arcadia," said her father, gently, "it strikes me that a young lady? She knew it. She knew it. "杝hould not be quite so impertinent to men older than she is. "Well, what did he want to come peeping around my window for? A young lady has a right to privacy?Now I'll have to do my whole darned composition over." "It's not up to you to question his propriety in coming to your window. You should simply not have let him in. You should have called me instantly ?especially if you thought I was expecting him." She said, peevishly, "It's just as well if you didn't see him ?stupid thing. Hell give the whole thing away if he keeps on going to windows, instead of doors." "Arcadia, nobody wants your opinion on matters you know nothing of." "I do, too. It's the Second Foundation, that's what it is." There was a silence. Even Arcadia felt a little nervous stirring in her abdomen. Dr. Darell said, softly, "Where have you heard this?" "Nowheres, but what else is there to be so secret about? And you don't have to worry that I抣l tell anyone." "Mr. Anthor," said Dr. Darell, "I must apologize for all this." "Oh, that's all right," came Anthor's rather hollow response. "It's not your fault if she's sold herself to the forces of darkness. But do you mind if I ask her a question before we go. Miss Arcadia? "What do you want?" "Why do you think it is stupid to go to windows instead of to doors?" "Because you advertise what you're trying to hide, silly. If I have a secret, I don't put tape over my mouth and let everyone know I have a secret. I talk just as much as usual, only about something else. Didn't you ever read any of the sayings of Salvor Hardin? He was our first Mayor, you know." "Yes, I know." "Well, he used to say that only a he that wasn't ashamed of itself could possibly succeed. He also said that nothing had to be true, but everything had to sound true. Well, when you come in through a window, it's a lie that's ashamed of itself and it doesn't sound true." "Then what would you have done?" "If I had wanted to see my father on top secret business, I would have made his acquaintance openly and seen him about all sorts of strictly legitimate things. And then when everyone knew all about you and connected you with my father as a matter of course, you could be as top secret as you want and nobody would ever think of questioning it." Anthor looked at the girl strangely, then at Dr. Darell. He said, "Let's go. I have a briefcase I want to pick up in the garden. Wait! Just one last question. Arcadia, you don't really have a baseball bat under your bed, do you?" "No! I don't." "Hah. I didn't think so." Dr. Darell stopped at the door. "Arcadia," he said, "when you rewrite your composition on the Seldon Plan, don't be unnecessarily mysterious about your grandmother. There is no necessity to mention that part at all." He and Pelleas descended the stairs in silence. Then the visitor asked in a strained voice, "Do you mind, sir? How old is she?" "Fourteen, day before yesterday." "Fourteen? Great Galaxy?Tell me, has she ever said she expects to marry some day?" "No, she hasn't. Not to me." Well, if she ever does, shoot him. The one she's going to marry, I mean." He stared earnestly into the older man's eyes. "I'm serious. Life could hold no greater horror than living with what shell be like when she's twenty. I don't mean to offend you, of course." "You don't offend me. I think I know what you mean." Upstairs, the object of their tender analyses faced the Transcriber with revolted weariness and said, dully: "Thefutureofseldonsplan." The Transcriber with infinite aplomb, translated that into elegantly, complicated script capitals as: "The Future of Seldon's Plan." 第二部 基地的寻找 第一章 艾嘉蒂娅   艾嘉蒂娅•达瑞尔以稳重的声音,对着听写机的输入端朗读道:“谢顿计划的展望,艾•达瑞尔作。” 然后她就暗自想到,以后自己成为一位大作家时,要以“艾卡蒂”这个笔名发表那些不朽的作品,就只用“艾卡蒂”,根本不要冠上任何姓氏。而“艾•达瑞尔”这样子的署名,则是《作文与修辞》这门课的作业中规定使用的——真是没有品味。同班的其他同学也都得这样做,只有丸里萨斯•旦那个男生例外。因为当他第一次那样念出自己名字时,全班同学都笑成了一团。“艾嘉蒂娅”又只是个小女孩的名字,只因为她祖母小时候曾经用过,所以她就要被迫接受——她的父母根本一点想像力都没有。 前天她刚刚过完十四岁生日。大人们似乎应该体认到一个简单的事实,那就是她已经长大成人,应该改口叫她“艾卡蒂”了。她突然不高兴地噘起嘴来,因为她又想起了父亲刚才对自己说的话。父亲的视线勉强从阅读镜移开一下,抬起头来一口气说道:“可是如果你想假装自己已经十九岁,艾嘉蒂垭,那么当你二十五岁的时候,男生们都会以为你已经三十了,你又该怎么办呢?” 现在她正坐在自己专用的大号扶手椅中,两只手臂伸展开来,抬头就能看见梳妆台上的镜子。不过她的一只脚丫挡住了一点视线,因为拖鞋正挂在大脚趾上摇晃着。于是她将脚收回来,把身子坐端正,脖子很不自然地伸得笔直。这样一来,她仿佛就能让自己又长高两寸,身材因而显得雅致多了。 她花了一会儿的工夫,仔细端详着自己的脸庞——太胖啦。于是她紧抿着嘴,拉长下巴,并且从各个角度打量眼前这张瘦弱的脸孔。她又伸出舌头舔了一下嘴唇,再将湿润的唇微微噘起,然后缓缓地垂下眼睑,表现出历尽沧桑的世故。喔,天哪,自己的双颊为什么是粉红色的,真丑! 她试着将手指摆在双眼外缘,将眼角微微扯斜,装出内围星系妇女那种神秘而具有异国风情的慵懒状。可是这么一来,双手就把脸孔遮住一半,没法子看清楚自己的模样。 随后她收起了下巴,想要照照自己的侧面。她侧转头,将眼睛尽量瞥向镜子,扭得脖子都酸疼了。她好像十分感慨,故意用低八度的声调说:“真的,爸爸,如果你以为,我会有一点点在乎那些笨男生怎么想,你就实在……” 此时她忽然想起手中的听写机仍然是开着的,马上发出了可怕的尖叫:“喔,天哪!”然后立刻将它关了起来。 结果听写机仍然吐出了半张淡紫色的纸,那张纸的左侧还有美丽的桃色花边。上面赫然印着: 谢顿计划的展望艾•达瑞尔作 真的,爸爸,如果你以为,我会有一点点在乎那些笨男生怎么想,你就实在。 哦,天哪! 她急忙将那张纸拉出来,再帮机器换上另一张纸。 不过她脸上的焦急表情很快就消失,宽宽的小嘴巴又扯出一个满意的笑容。她把抽出的那张纸凑到鼻端,以优雅的动作轻轻闻了一下。真好,就应该是这种高雅迷人的香味,而且纸上的笔迹也没有话说。 这台机器是两天前送来的,是父亲送给她的成年生日礼物。 她记得当初曾对父亲说:“爸爸,可是每一个人——班上每一个稍微有那么一点点志气的人,每个都有那么一台。只有那些老古董才会用打字机……” 推销员也对她父亲说:“我们这种听写机既轻巧又好用,再也没有别的型号能比得上。它可以根据言语中的含意,列印出正确的文字和标点符号。您自然可以看得出来,它是学生们的良伴,因为它会鼓励使用者注意语气与呼吸,惟有这样才能让它印出正确的字。此外,当然还要使用合宜而端庄的口气,才能得到正确的标点符号。” 不过,父亲当时只想帮她买一台普通的打字机,好像真把她当成了一个老古董学者。 可是当机器送来的时候,她却发现正是梦寐以求的那一种,害她感动得痛哭流涕——眼泪也许掉得太多了点,跟十四岁的成年生日不大相称。那台机器印出来的字,是纯粹女性化的娟秀字迹,看起来优雅、美观而迷人。 即使是刚才的那一句“喔,天哪!”听写机印出的字迹也非常具有魅力。 然而不管机器多好,她也必须循规蹈矩地使用才行。所以她又端坐在椅子上,正经八百地将草稿放在面前,先挺胸再缩腹,小心翼翼地控制着呼吸,准备重新再试一遍。然后便以充满热情的语气,一字一句清清楚楚地朗诵道: “谢顿计划的展望,艾•达瑞尔作。” “我们这些有幸能在本行星的高效率、高素质、高等师资的教育体系之下,接受完整教育的学生,大家都对基地过去的历史了若指掌,这是绝对能够肯定的一件事情。” (哈!爱尔金小姐一定会对这个开头十分满意——那个刻薄的老巫婆。) “基地过去的历史,几乎始终在执行着哈里•谢顿的伟大计划,这两者根本就是一而二、二而一的。但是如今大多数人心目中的问题,则是这个伟大而睿智的计划是否能再继续下去,抑或将会遭到严重的破坏,或者根本早已被破坏殆尽。” “让我们先来浏览一下,谢顿计划至今为止已对人类揭示的几个重点,这也许是了解这个问题的最好办法。” (这一部分很容易写,因为她上个学期曾经修过《近代史》这门课。) “大约四个世纪之前,当第一银河帝国几乎已经瘫痪,眼看就要灭亡之时,有一个人——伟大的哈里•谢顿——预见了这个即将来临的末日。他与他的同僚利用心理史学——这门科学的辅杂数学如今早已失传——” (她忽然停下来,因为此时出现了一个小问题。她确定“复杂”的“复”应该读第三声,可是机器选的字好像有点不大对劲。喔,别担心,机器是绝对不可能出错的——) “预测出了银河历史巨流的整体发展方向。于是他们得以发现一个事实,就是倘若放任历史照这样子发展下去,帝国必将崩溃瓦解,接着便会出现至少三万年的无政府动乱状态,之后人类才有可能建立一个新的帝国。” “想要阻止帝国的衰亡为时已晚,然而,至少还有可能设法将动乱的时期缩短。因此谢顿计划的主要目的,就是要使第二帝国与第一帝国的间隙缩短为一个千年。如今已过了将近四个世纪,花开花落,花落花开,而计划的进行依旧不曾动摇。” “哈里•谢顿在银河中两个遥相对峙的端点,分别建立了一个基地。他为这两个基地所选取的各种条件,乃对应于心理史学问题的最佳数学解答。其中之一——我们的基地——设立在这个端点星上,集中了帝国时期所有的物理科学。凭借着这些科学,基地足以抵抗周围蛮荒王国的攻击——那些王国都是新近从帝国边缘脱离而独立称王的。” “事实上,基地由于代有英勇睿智的人物出现,例如塞佛•哈定以及侯伯•马洛,因此很快地就征服了那些短命的王国。这些英雄都能明智地诠释谢顿计划,并且领导我们克服了……” (根据她的草稿,下面的两个字应该也是“复杂”,但是她决定不要再冒一次险。) “艰难的情势。虽然数个世纪过去了,基地各个世界仍旧缅怀、崇敬他们的功绩。” “后来,基地建立了一个庞大的商业体系,控制了安纳克瑞昂与西维纳星区的大部分,甚至击败了苟延残喘的旧帝国最后的一击,也就是打败了帝国的最后一名大将——贝尔•里欧思。到了这个时候,谢顿计划似乎再也没有任何阻碍,谢顿所策划的每一个危机,都能在准确的时机出现,并且也一一被顺利化解。而每当一个危机解除之后,基地便再度向第二帝国以及永久和平迈出一大步。此时,” (念到这里,她一口气没喘过来,只能从牙缝中轻轻吐出这几个字。不过听写机照样将这些字印得清清楚楚、漂漂亮亮。) “第一帝国最后的残余势力烟消云散,只剩下了许多无能的军阀,统治着这一片硕大的残躯。” (“硕大的残躯”是她上周从超视的惊险影片中学到的。不过爱尔金小姐一向只看古典音乐与教学节目,所以绝对不会露出马脚。) “不料就在此时,骡出现了。” “这个异人根本不在谢顿的算计之中,他是一个突变种,他的产生是完全无法预测的。骡具有一种奇异而神秘的力量,能够控制并操纵人类的情感,因而可使所有人服从他的意志。在令人无法置信的短时间之内,他就成为一名征服者,以及一个帝国的开创者。最后,他竟然还征服了基地。” “不过他从未完成一统银河的壮举,因为他发动的第一波势如破竹的攻势,最后被一位睿智、勇敢、伟大的女性所遏止。” (现在她又碰到了那个老问题——父亲一直不准她透露自己是贝妲•达瑞尔的孙女。可是每个人都知道,贝妲几乎可算是有史以来最伟大的女性,也知道她曾靠一己之力阻止了骡。) “但是,整个事件的来龙去脉,真正知晓的人却少之又少。” (哈!如果她得向全班朗读这篇作文,上面这句话就可以用神秘兮兮的语气来念。这样一来,一定就会有人问她实情究竟如何。然后嘛,嗯,如果他们硬要问的话,自己就不得不说实话了,对不对?她已经想好了将来面对父亲的严厉质问时,要怎么说一套委屈却振振有辞的辩解。) “经过了五年的极权统治,又出现了另外一个变化,而这个变化的原因至今不明。总之,骡从此放弃了一切的扩张政策,他在位的最后五年,实行的是道道地地的开明专制。” “有人说,骡的改变是由于第二基地的介入。然而从来没有人找到另外那个基地的正确位置,也没有任何人知道它的真正作用,所以上述的理论仍旧未被证实。” “如今,距离骡的死亡又过了整整一个世代。在骡倏来忽去之后,未来又将如何发展呢?骡的出现干扰了谢顿计划,似乎已经将计划弄得四分五裂,可是在他死后下久,基地又再度兴起,如同从垂死恒星的灰烬中重生的新星。” (上面这些如假包换是她的创作。) “于是,端点星这颗行星,再一次成为一个商业联邦的中心。它几乎恢复了被征服之前的富庶与强盛,甚至变得更加和平、更为民主。” “这个发展也在计划之中吗?谢顿伟大的梦想依旧健在吗?六百年之后,真的会有一个第二银河帝国兴起吗?我个人相信答案是肯定的,因为,” (这是很重要的一部分,爱尔金小姐总是喜欢用红铅笔,在学生的作文上写一些又大又丑的评语:“这只是叙述而已,你个人的心得呢?用心想一想!表达出你自己的想法!洞察你自己的内心深处!”洞察你自己的内心深处,她可真是非常了解人类的心灵,她那张丑脸这辈子从来没有笑过……) “在我们过去的历史上,从来没有出现过如今这种大好的情势。旧帝国已经完全灭亡了,而经过骡的统治之后,当年那些军阀割据的局面也一去不复返,银河边陲地带大都过着文明和平的日子。” “此外,基地内部也比往昔健全许多。被骡征服之前的世袭市长专制时代结束了,基地再度恢复早期的民主选举。银河中再也没有持异议的独立行商世界;也不再有大量财富集中于少数人之手这种分配不均的不公平现象。所以说,我们没有理由抱持失败的恐惧,除非第二基地真的对我们构成威胁。不过那些抱着这种想法的人,除了茫然的畏惧与迷信之外,根本不能提出任何的证据。我认为,我们对自己、对国家、对伟大的谢顿计划的信心,应该能够将心中的任何疑虑驱散,” (嗯——这实在是可怕的陈腔滥调,不过作文的结尾总要写点这种东西。) “因此我说,” 这篇《谢顿计划的展望》写到这里时,却又不得不暂停了,因为艾嘉蒂娅忽然听见窗玻璃发出轻微的声响。她单手撑着椅子扶手,引颈向窗户的方向看去,竟发现自己跟窗外的一张笑脸遥遥相对。那是一张男子的脸孔,被竖在嘴唇上的一根指头分成两半,样子看起来十分滑稽。 艾嘉蒂娅只愣了一下,就立刻装出一副茫然的表情。她从扶手椅上爬下来,走近大窗台前的沙发,然后跪在沙发上,若有所思地瞪着窗外。 那张脸孔上的笑容很快消失了。他一只手紧抓着窗台,由于用力过猛,连指节都已泛白;腾出来的另一只手,则迅速地做了一个手势。艾嘉蒂娅立即会意,按动了一下开关,窗玻璃下方三分之二立刻滑进墙壁。春天温暖的空气随即进入室内,与其中经过空调的空气混合起来。 “你不可以进来,”她故意装模作样,用俏皮的语调说,“窗子都加装了防盗幕,只能让住在这里的人通过。如果你钻进来,各种各样的警铃通通会立刻铃声大作。” 她顿了一顿,又补充道,“你两脚踩在窗户下面的台子上,这种身手实在一点也不高明。如果你不小心的话,就会摔断你那根不值钱的脖子,还会压坏好些珍贵的花朵。” 站在窗边的那个人,此时心中担心的也正是这件事,但却认为那两个形容词应该交换一下。他吃力地说:“既然这样,那你能不能把防盗幕关掉,好让我爬进去?” “你苦苦哀求也没有用,”艾嘉蒂娅说,“我想你也许闯错了地方。因为我可不是那种随便的女孩,这么晚还会让陌生男子进入她们……进入她的卧室。”她在说这几句话的时候,眼睑微微下垂,露出了一个性感的神情——或者应该说,模仿得实在过分惟妙惟肖。 一时间,那名年轻男子脸上的顽皮神色消失无踪。他喃喃问道:“这里是达瑞尔博士的住宅,对不对?” “我为什么要告诉你?” “喔,老天啊——再见——” “如果你要跳下去的话,年轻人,我就马上按下警铃。”(“年轻人”是她故意选用的讽刺字眼,用来表现自己的世故与练达。因为在艾嘉蒂娅精明的眼睛看来,这家伙显然至少有三十岁——对她而言,实在是很老了。) 僵持了一会儿,那人又用严肃的声音说:“好吧,我问你,小姐,如果你不要我待在这里,又不准我走的话,你到底想要我怎么做?” “我想你可以进来。达瑞尔博士的确住在这里,我现在就把防盗幕关掉……” “年轻人”先探头向房间内仔细看了看,然后才将手伸进窗内,一挺身钻了进来。进屋之后,他故意使劲拍着膝盖上的灰尘,仿佛在做无言的抗议,然后又抬起通红的脸孔对着艾嘉蒂娅。 “如果有人发现我在这里,你确定你的人格与名誉不会受损吗?” “如果这样的话,你的人格与名誉受到的损害,绝对会比我严重得多。因为只要一听到外面有脚步声,我就会立刻大吼大叫,指控你强行闯进我的房间。” “是吗?”他故意以谦恭的态度问道,“可是防盗幕是你自己关掉的,这一点你又要如何解释?” “哼!那还不简单,其实根本就没有什么防盗幕。” 那人的眼睛睁得老大,看来真的发火了:“那是唬人的?小丫头,你今年多大了?” “嗯,我认为这是一个非常没有礼貌的问题,年轻人,而且我也不习惯被人称作‘小丫头’。” “这点我不怀疑,你也许是骡的祖母化装成的。在你还没有呼朋引伴,准备对我动用私刑之前,我是不是应该赶紧溜走呢?” “你最好别走——因为家父正在等你。” 那人的表情再度变得谨慎万分。他扬起一道眉毛,轻声问道:“哦?有人跟你的父亲在一起吗?” “没有。” “最近有人来拜访过他吗?” “只有卖东西的小贩——还有你。” “有没有发生任何不寻常的事?” “只有你。” “饶了我吧,好不好?不,别饶我,告诉我,你怎么会知道令尊正在等我?” “哦,那还不简单!上星期他收到了一个私人信囊,只有他本人才能开启的那种,里面有一张会自行氧化的信笺。你知道吗,他还特别把那个信囊丢进垃圾分解器中。昨天,他主动放了波莉一个月的假——波莉是我们的女佣——让她去探望住在端点市的姐姐。到了今天下午,他又在客房里整理床铺。因此我就晓得他正在等什么人,却故意不让我知道,平常他什么事情都会告诉我的。” “真的!我很怀疑他需要告诉你什么事,我认为他根本还没说,你就什么都知道了。” “通常都是这样的。”说完她就笑了,并且开始感到轻松自在。这个来访的客人年纪虽然不小了,不过外表看来十分出色,有着一头棕色的卷发,还有一对深蓝色的眼睛。也许,她想,等自己年纪够大的时候,还能够再遇到类似的人物。 “可是,”那人又提出了一个问题,“你又怎么知道我就是他要等的人?” “唉,还会有谁呢?他神秘兮兮地在等一个人——我想你应该懂我的意思。然后你就鬼头鬼脑地来了,而且还想从窗户爬进来。如果你有一点常识的话,就应该知道该走到前门去叫门。”她突然想到一句自己很欣赏的话,立刻脱口而出:“男人全都这么笨!” “你倒蛮有自信的嘛,对不对,小丫头?不,我是说‘小姐’。你知道吗,你说的可能完全不对。如果我现在告诉你,我被你搞得一头雾水,而且据我所知,令尊等的不是我而是别人,那你又该怎么办?” “哦,我才不信呢。我可没有一开始就让你进来,直到看见你把手提箱丢下去,我才改变了主意。” “我的什么?” “你的手提箱,年轻人。我可不是瞎子,你并不是不小心,而是故意把它丢下去的。因为你先向下面看了一眼,估计它会落在哪里,等你确定它会掉进树篱里面,不会被别人看见,这才把手提箱丢下去,然后你就再也没有向下望一眼。既然你故意不走前门,而准备从窗户爬进来,就表示你不太敢确定是否找对了地方,所以想先观察一下。而当你被我发现之后,你首先想到的是手提箱,而不是你自己的安危,这就代表说,你把那里面的东西看得比自己更重要。现在既然你人在屋内,而手提箱还在屋外——这一点我们都心照不宣,你也许根本就无计可施。” 她一口气说到这里,实在需要停下来好好喘口气。那人乘机回嘴道:“不过,我也可以把你勒得半死,然后逃出去,再捡起手提箱远走高飞。” “不过,年轻人,我的床底下刚好有一根棒球棒,我可以在两秒钟之内抓到手里,而且我是一个很强壮的女生。” 僵持了好一阵子,“年轻人”终于以做作的礼貌口吻说:“既然我们这么谈得来,我想应该自我介绍一下。我的名字叫裴礼斯•安索,你叫什么名字?” “我名叫艾嘉……艾卡蒂•达瑞尔,很高兴认识你。” “好的,艾卡蒂,现在你能不能做个好心的小女孩,去把你父亲叫来?” 艾嘉蒂娅愤愤地抬起头说:“我可不是小女孩,我认为你这样说相当没有礼貌——尤其是拜托别人帮忙的时候,更不应该用这种称呼。” 裴礼斯•安索叹了一口气,改口道:“说得好——请问你能不能做一个好心、善良、可爱的老妇人,为我前去将令尊请过来?” “我也不是那个意思,不过我会去叫他的。可是别以为我会把视线从你身上移开,年轻人。”说完。她就开始用力踏地板。 走廊处随即传来一阵急促的脚步声,然后卧室的门就被猛力打开。 “艾嘉蒂娅——”达瑞尔博士吼到一半便煞住了,他轻轻吐了一口气,然后问道,“先生,你是谁?” 裴礼斯赶紧站起来,样子显然松了一口气:“杜伦•达瑞尔博士?我是裴礼斯•安索。我想你已经收到那封信,至少令嫒告诉我你的确收到了。” “我女儿说的?”他皱起眉头,用责备的眼光瞪了艾嘉蒂娅一眼,却看到她正张大眼睛,露出一副无懈可击的无辜状,于是马上将严厉的目光又收回来。 过了好一会儿,达瑞尔博士终于再度开口:“我正在等你呢,请跟我下楼来好吗?”说到这里他突然打住,因为他看到旁边有个东西正在闪动,此时艾嘉蒂娅也注意到了。 她赶紧扑向那台听写机,可是却已经来不及了,因为她父亲就站在机器旁边。 他以温柔的口吻说:“你一直都开着喔,艾嘉蒂娅。” “爸爸,”她难为情地尖叫道,“看人家的私人信件是很不礼貌的行为,看人家的私人谈话记录就更不用说了。” “啊,”她父亲说,“可是这个‘谈话记录’,却是你跟一个陌生男子在卧室里录的!身为你的父亲,艾嘉蒂娅,我必须要保护你。” “噢,天哪!根本不是那么回事。” 裴礼斯突然笑道:“喔,就是那么回事。达瑞尔博士,这位小姐正准备指控我许多罪名,即使为了洗刷我的冤屈,我也必须坚持请你读一读。” “噢——”艾嘉蒂娅强忍住泪水。竟然连父亲也不相信自己,而那台可恶的听写机——如果不是那个笨蛋傻傻地摸到窗口来,她也不会忘记把机器关掉。现在,父亲一定准备发表长篇大论,告诫她什么是年轻女子不应当做的事。看来,好像根本没有什么是她们应当做的,也许只有上吊自杀是惟一的例外。 “艾嘉蒂娅,”她父亲以温和的语气说,“我认为,一个年轻女子——” 来了吧!她就知道,她早就知道。 “——不应该对一位比自己年长许多的人,说话这么没大没小。” “可是,谁叫他要到我的窗户旁边探头探脑?一个年轻女子总有隐私权——现在你看,我得从头再念一遍这篇可恶的作文。” “他爬到你的窗边究竟对不对,并不是你应该管的事情。你根本就不该让他进来,应该立刻通知我——尤其是你,认为我正在等他。” 她以撒娇的口气说:“你不见他也好——这个傻瓜。如果他一直这样子飞檐走壁,而不从大门进出的话,迟早会把所有的秘密都抖出来。” “艾嘉蒂娅,自己不懂的事情,就不要多嘴。” “谁说我不懂,是关于第二基地的事情,对不对?” 她这句话一出口,立刻带来好一阵子的沉默,就连她自己也觉得腹部在微微抽搐。 然后,达瑞尔博士轻声问道:“你是从哪里听来的?” “我可不是从哪里听来的。除了这事,还有什么值得这么神秘兮兮的吗?你不用担心,我不会跟任何人说的。” “安索先生,”达瑞尔博士说,“我必须为这一切向你道歉。” “喔,没有关系。”安索用不大诚恳的语气答道,“如果她将自己出卖给邪恶的力量,那也绝不是你的错。我们离开这里之前,我还想再问她一个问题,希望你别介意。艾嘉蒂娅小姐——” “你想要问什么?” “你为什么认为爬窗户而不走大门是一件傻事呢?” “因为这等于你在大肆宣扬想要隐瞒什么,傻瓜。如果我心中有一个秘密,绝不会把嘴巴贴上胶布,让大家都知道我藏着什么秘密。我会像平常一样谈天说地,只要不提那个秘密就行了。你没有读过塞佛•哈定的格言吗?你可知道,他是我们的首任市长。” “是的,我知道。” “好,他曾经说过:惟有大言不惭的谎言才能成功;他还说过:任何事情都不必是真的,但是都必须让人信以为真。哼,当你从窗户爬进来的时候,就已经违背了这两个原则。” “那么如果是你的话,你又要怎么做呢?” “如果我有一件最高机密,要来找我爸爸商量的话,我会先在公开场合与他结识,然后用各种冠冕堂皇的理由来找他。而当每一个人都认识你,认为你跟我爸爸在一起是理所当然的事情,你就可以随便跟他商量任何机密,而绝不会引起别人的怀疑。” 安索以不可思议的眼光盯着这个女孩,然后再看看达瑞尔博士,这才道:“我们走吧,我得到花园去找我的手提箱。等一等!还有一个问题。艾嘉蒂娅,你的床底下根本没有什么球棒吧,对不对?” “没有!我没有。” “哈,我就知道。” 达瑞尔博士站在门口说:“艾嘉蒂娅,当你重写那篇关于谢顿计划的作文时,不要无缘无故把奶奶渲染得太过神秘,其实根本没有必要提那件事。”然后他就和裴礼斯一起默默走下楼梯。 走到一半,那位客人压低了声音问道:“希望你别介意,博士,请问令嫒有多大了?” “十四岁,前天刚过的生日。” “十四岁?我的老天——告诉我,她有没有说将来准备嫁人?” “没有,她没提过,至少没有对我提过。” “嗯,如果她哪天提出来,我看你还是把他枪毙算了——我是说,她想要嫁的那个人。”他凝视着这位前辈的眼睛,以严肃的口气说,“我是认真的,等到她二十岁的时候,跟她生活在一起绝对是天底下最可怕的事。当然我这么说,绝不是故意要冒犯你。” “你没有冒犯我,我想我知道你的意思。” 这两个人仔细分析的对象,此时仍然待在楼上,面对着那台听写机,憋了一肚子的反感与厌烦。她用模糊而懒散的口气念道:“谢,顿——计,划——的,展,望——”而听写机则发挥了无比精确的功能,将那些声音转换成优雅秀丽的字体: 谢顿计划的展望 Chapter 2 Seldon's Plan MATHEMATICS The synthesis of the calculus of n-variables and of n-dimensional geometry is the basis of what Seldon once called "my little algebra of humanity".... ENCYCLOPEDIA GALACTICA Consider a room! The location of the room is not in question at the moment. It is merely sufficient to say that in that room, more than anywhere, the Second Foundation existed. It was a room which, through the centuries, had been the abode of pure science ?yet it had none of the gadgets with which, through millennia of association, science has come to be considered equivalent. It was a science, instead, which dealt with mathematical concepts only, in a manner similar to the speculation of ancient, ancient races in the primitive, prehistoric days before technology had come to be; before Man had spread beyond a single, now-unknown world. For one thing, there was in that room ?protected by a mental science as yet unassailable by the combined physical might of the rest of the Galaxy ?the Prime Radiant, which held in its vitals the Seldon Plan ?complete. For another, there was a man, too, in that room ?The First Speaker. He was the twelfth in the line of chief guardians of the Plan, and his title bore no deeper significance than the fact that at the gatherings of the leaders of the Second Foundation, he spoke first. His predecessor had beaten the Mule, but the wreckage of that gigantic struggle still littered the path of the Plan?For twenty-five years, he, and his administration, had been trying to force a Galaxy of stubborn and stupid human beings back to the path?It was a terrible task. The First Speaker looked up at the opening door. Even while, in the loneliness of the room, he considered his quarter century of effort, which now so slowly and inevitably approached its climax; even while he had been so engaged, his mind had been considering the newcomer with a gentle expectation. A youth, a student, one of those who might take over, eventually. The young man stood uncertainly at the door, so that the First Speaker had to walk to him and lead him in, with a friendly hand upon the shoulder. The Student smiled shyly, and the First Speaker responded by saying, "First, I must tell you why you are here." They faced each other now, across the desk. Neither was speaking in any way that could be recognized as such by any man in the Galaxy who was not himself a member of the Second Foundation. Speech, originally, was the device whereby Man learned, imperfectly, to transmit the thoughts and emotions of his mind. By setting up arbitrary sounds and combinations of sounds to represent certain mental nuances, be developed a method of communication ?but one which in its clumsiness and thick-thumbed inadequacy degenerated all the delicacy of the mind into gross and guttural signaling. Down?down?the results can be followed; and all the suffering that humanity ever knew can be traced to the one fact that no man in the history of the Galaxy, until Hari Seldon, and very few men thereafter, could really understand one another. Every human being lived behind an impenetrable wall of choking mist within which no other but he existed. Occasionally there were the dim signals from deep within the cavern in which another man was located-so that each might grope toward the other. Yet because they did not know one another, and could not understand one another, and dared not trust one another, and felt from infancy the terrors and insecurity of that ultimate isolation ?there was the hunted fear of man for man, the savage rapacity of man toward man. Feet, for tens of thousands of years, had clogged and shuffled in the mud ?and held down the minds which, for an equal time, had been fit for the companionship of the stars. Grimly, Man had instinctively sought to circumvent the prison bars of ordinary speech. Semantics, symbolic logic, psychoanalysis ?they had all been devices whereby speech could either be refined or by-passed. Psychohistory had been the development of mental science, the final mathematicization thereof, rather, which had finally succeeded. Through the development of the mathematics necessary to understand the facts of neural physiology and the electrochemistry of the nervous system, which themselves had to be, had to be, traced down to nuclear forces, it first became possible to truly develop psychology. And through the generalization of psychological knowledge from the individual to the group, sociology was also mathematicized. The larger groups; the billions that occupied planets; the trillions that occupied Sectors; the quadrillions that occupied the whole Galaxy, became, not simply human beings, but gigantic forces amenable to statistical treatment ?so that to Hari Seldon, the future became clear and inevitable, and the Plan could be set up. The same basic developments of mental science that had brought about the development of the Seldon Plan, thus made it also unnecessary for the First Speaker to use words in addressing the Student. Every reaction to a stimulus, however slight, was completely indicative of all the trifling changes, of all the flickering currents that went on in another's mind. The First Speaker could not sense the emotional content of the Student's instinctively, as the Mule would have been able to do ?since the Mule was a mutant with powers not ever likely to become completely comprehensible to any ordinary man, even a Second Foundationer ?rather he deduced them, as the result of intensive training. Since, however, it is inherently impossible in a society based on speech to indicate truly the method of communication of Second Foundationers among themselves, the whole matter will be hereafter ignored. The First Speaker will be represented as speaking in ordinary fashion, and if the translation is not always entirely valid, it is at least the best that can be done under the circumstances. It will be pretended therefore, that the First Speaker did actually say, "First, I must tell you why you are here," instead of smiling just so and lifting a finger exactly thus. The First Speaker said, "You have studied mental science hard and well for most of your life. You have absorbed all your teachers could give you. It is time for you and a few others like yourself to begin your apprenticeship for Speakerhood." Agitation from the other side of the desk. "No ?now you must take this phlegmatically. You had hoped you would qualify. You had feared you would not. Actually, both hope and fear are weaknesses. You knew you would qualify and you hesitate to admit the fact because such knowledge might stamp you as cocksure and therefore unfit. Nonsense! The most hopelessly stupid man is he who is not aware that he is wise. It is part of your qualification that you knew you would qualify." Relaxation on the other side of the desk. "Exactly. Now you feel better and your guard is down. You are fitter to concentrate and fitter to understand. Remember, to be truly effective, it is not necessary to hold the mind under a tight, controlling barrier which to the intelligent probe is as informative as a naked mentality. Rather, one should cultivate an innocence, an awareness of self, and an unself-consciousness of self which leaves one nothing to hide. My mind is open to you. Let this be so for both of us." He went on. "It is not an easy thing to be a Speaker. It is not an easy thing to be a Psychohistorian in the first place; and not even the best Psychohistorian need necessarily qualify to be a Speaker. There is a distinction here. A Speaker must not only be aware of the mathematical intricacies of the Seldon Plan; he must have a sympathy for it and for its ends. He must love the Plan; to him it must be life and breath. More than that it must even be as a living friend. "Do you know what this is?" The First Speaker's hand hovered gently over the black, shining cube in the middle of the desk. It was featureless. "No, Speaker, I do not." "You have heard of the Prime Radiant?" "This?" 朅stonishment. "You expected something more noble and awe-inspiring? Well, that is natural. It was created in the days of the Empire, by men of Seldon's time. For nearly four hundred years, it has served our needs perfectly, without requiring repairs or adjustment. And fortunately so, since none of the Second Foundation is qualified to handle it in any technical fashion." He smiled gently. "Those of the First Foundation might be able to duplicate this, but they must never know, of course." He depressed a lever on his side of the desk and the room was in darkness. But only for a moment, since with a gradually livening flush, the two long walls of the room glowed to life. First, a pearly white, unrelieved, then a trace of faint darkness here and there, and finally, the fine neatly printed equations in black, with an occasional red hairline that wavered through the darker forest like a staggering rillet. "Come, my boy, step here before the wall. You will not cast a shadow. This light does not radiate from the Radiant in an ordinary manner. To tell you the truth, I do not know even faintly by what medium this effect is produced, but you will not cast a shadow. I know that." They stood together in the light. Each wall was thirty feet long, and ten high. The writing was small and covered every inch. "This is not the whole Plan," said the First Speaker. "To get it all upon both walls, the individual equations would have to be reduced to microscopic size ?but that is not necessary. What you now see represents the main portions of the Plan till now. You have learned about this, have you not?" "Yes, Speaker, I have." "Do you recognize any portion." A slow silence. The student pointed a finger and as he did so, the line of equations marched down the wall, until the single series of functions he had thought of ?one could scarcely consider the quick, generalized gesture of the finger to have been sufficiently precise ?was at eye-level. The First Speaker laughed softly, "You will find the Prime Radiant to be attuned to your mind. You may expect more surprises from the little gadget. What were you about to say about the equation you have chosen?" "It," faltered the Student, "is a Rigellian integral, using a planetary distribution of a bias indicating the presence of two chief economic classes on the planet, or maybe a Sector, plus an unstable emotional pattern." "And what does it signify?" "It represents the limit of tension, since we have here" ?he pointed, and again the equations veered ?"a converging series." "Good," said the First Speaker. "And tell me, what do you think of all this. A finished work of art, is it not?" "Definitely!" "Wrong! It is not." This, with sharpness. "It is the first lesson you must unlearn. The Seldon Plan is neither complete nor correct. Instead, it is merely the best that could be done at the time. Over a dozen generations of men have pored over these equations, worked at them, taken them apart to the last decimal place, and put them together again. They've done more than that. They've watched nearly four hundred years pass and against the predictions and equations, they've checked reality, and they have learned. "They have learned more than Seldon ever knew, and if with the accumulated knowledge of the centuries we could repeat Seldon's work, we could do a better job. Is that perfectly clear to you?" The Student appeared a little shocked. "Before you obtain your Speakerhood," continued the First Speaker, "you yourself will have to make an original contribution to the Plan. It is not such great blasphemy. Every red mark you see on the wall is the contribution of a man among us who lived since Seldon. Why ... why? He looked upward, "There!" The whole wall seemed to whirl down upon him. "This," he said, "is mine." A fine red line encircled two forking arrows and included six square feet of deductions along each path. Between the two were a series of equations in red. "It does not," said the Speaker, "seem to be much. It is at a point in the Plan which we will not reach yet for a time as long as that which has already passed. It is at the period of coalescence, when the Second Empire that is to be is in the grip of rival personalities who will threaten to pull it apart if the fight is too even, or clamp it into rigidity, if the fight is too uneven. Both possibilities are considered here, followed, and the method of avoiding either indicated. "Yet it is all a matter of probabilities and a third course can exist. It is one of comparatively low likelihood ?twelve point six four percent, to be exact ?but even smaller chances have already come to pass and the Plan is only forty percent complete. This third probability consists of a possible compromise between two or more of the conflicting personalities being considered. This, I showed, would first freeze the Second Empire into an unprofitable mold, and then, eventually, inflict more damage through civil wars than would have taken place had a compromise never been made in the first place. Fortunately, that could be prevented, too. And that was my contribution." "If I may interrupt, Speaker?How is a change made?" "Through the agency of the Radiant. You will find in your own case, for instance, that your mathematics will be checked rigorously by five different boards; and that you will be required to defend it against a concerted and merciless attack. Two years will then pass, and your development will be reviewed again. It has happened more than once that a seemingly perfect piece of work has uncovered its fallacies only after an induction period of months or years. Sometimes, the contributor himself discovers the flaw. "If, after two years, another examination, not less detailed than the first, still passes it, and ?better still ?if in the interim the young scientist has brought to light additional details, subsidiary evidence, the contribution will be added to the Plan. It was the climax of my career; it will be the climax of yours. "The Prime Radiant can be adjusted to your mind, and all corrections and additions can be made through mental rapport. There will be nothing to indicate that the correction or addition is yours. In all the history of the Plan there has been no personalization. It is rather a creation of all of us together. Do you understand?" "Yes, Speaker!" "Then, enough of that." A stride to the Prime Radiant, and the walls were blank again save for the ordinary room-lighting region along the upper borders. "Sit down here at my desk, and let me talk to you. It is enough for a Psychohistorian, as such, to know his Biostatistics and his Neurochemical Electromathematics. Some know nothing else and are fit only to be statistical technicians. But a Speaker must be able to discuss the Plan without mathematics. If not the Plan itself, at least its philosophy and its aims. "First of all, what is the aim of the Plan? Please tell me in your own words ?and don't grope for fine sentiment. You won't be judged on polish and suavity, I assure you." It was the Student's first chance at more than a bisyllable, and he hesitated before plunging into the expectant space cleared away for him. He said, diffidently: "As a result of what I have learned, I believe that it is the intention of the Plan to establish a human civilization based on an orientation entirely different from anything that ever before existed. An orientation which, according to the findings of Psychohistory, could never spontaneously come into being? "Stop!" The First Speaker was insistent. 'You must not say 'never.' That is a lazy slurring over of the facts. Actually, Psychohistory predicts only probabilities. A particular event may be infinitesimally probable, but the probability is always greater than zero." "Yes, Speaker. The orientation desired, if I may correct myself, then, is well known to possess no significant probability of spontaneously coming to pass." "Better. What is the orientation?" "It is that of a civilization based on mental science. In all the known history of Mankind, advances have been made primarily in physical technology; in the capacity of handling the inanimate world about Man. Control of self and society has been left to chance or to the vague gropings of intuitive ethical systems based on inspiration and emotion. As a result, no culture of greater stability than about fifty-five percent has ever existed, and these only as the result of great human misery." "And why is the orientation we speak of a nonspontaneous one?" "Because a large minority of human beings are mentally equipped to take part in the advance of physical science, and all receive the crude and visible benefits thereof. Only an insignificant minority, however, are inherently able to lead Man through the greater involvements of Mental Science; and the benefits derived therefrom, while longer lasting, are more subtle and less apparent. Furthermore, since such an orientation would lead to the development of a benevolent dictatorship of the mentally best ?virtually a higher subdivision of Man ?it would be resented and could not be stable without the application of a force which would depress the rest of Mankind to brute level. Such a development is repugnant to us and must be avoided." "What, then, is the solution?" "The solution is the Seldon Plan. Conditions have been so arranged and so maintained that in a millennium from its beginnings ?six hundred years from now, a Second Galactic Empire will have been established in which Mankind will be ready for the leadership of Mental Science. In that same interval, the Second Foundation in its development, will have brought forth a group of Psychologists ready to assume leadership. Or, as I have myself often thought, the First Foundation supplies the physical framework of a single political unit, and the Second Foundation supplies the mental framework of a ready-made ruling class." "I see. Fairly adequate. Do you think that any Second Empire, even if formed in the time set by Seldon, would do as a fulfillment of his Plan?" "No, Speaker, I do not. There are several possible Second Empires that may be formed in the period of time stretching from nine hundred to seventeen hundred years after the inception of the Plan, but only one of these is the Second Empire." "And in view of all this, why is it necessary that the existence of the Second Foundation be hidden ?above all, from the First Foundation?" The Student probed for a hidden meaning to the question and failed to find it. He was troubled in his answer, "For the same reason that the details of the Plan as a whole must be hidden from Mankind in general. The laws of Psychohistory are statistical in nature and are rendered invalid if the actions of individual men are not random in nature. If a sizable group of human beings learned of key details of the Plan, their actions would be governed by that knowledge and would no longer be random in the meaning of the axioms of Psychohistory. In other words, they would no longer be perfectly predictable. Your pardon, Speaker, but I feel that the answer is not satisfactory." "It is well that you do. Your answer is quite incomplete. It is the Second Foundation itself which must be hidden, not simply the Plan. The Second Empire is not yet formed. We have still a society which would resent a ruling class of psychologists, and which would fear its development and fight against it. Do you understand that?" "Yes, Speaker, I do. The point has never been stressed? "Don't minimize. It has never been made ?in the classroom, though you should be capable of deducing it yourself. This and many other points we will make now and in the near future during your apprenticeship. You will see me again in a week. By that time, I would like to have comments from you as to a certain problem which I now set before you. I don't want complete and rigorous mathematical treatment. That would take a year for an expert, and not a week for you. But I do want an indication as to trends and directions "You have here a fork in the Plan at a period in time of about half a century ago. The necessary details are included. You will note that the path followed by the assumed reality diverges from all the plotted predictions; its probability being under one percent. You will estimate for how long the divergence may continue before it becomes uncorrectable. Estimate also the probable end if uncorrected, and a reasonable method of correction." The Student flipped the Viewer at random and looked stonily at the passages presented on the tiny, built-in screen. He said: "Why this particular problem, Speaker? It obviously has significance other than purely academic." "Thank you, my boy. You are as quick as I had expected. The problem is not suppositiiious. Nearly half a century ago, the Mule burst into Galactic history and for ten years was the largest single fact in the universe. He was unprovided for; uncalculated for. He bent the Plan seriously, but not fatally. "To stop him before he did become fatal, however, we were forced to take active part against him. We revealed our existence, and infinitely worse, a portion of our power. The First Foundation has learned of us, and their actions are now predicated on that knowledge. Observe in the problem presented. Here. And here. "Naturally, you will not speak of this to anyone." There was an appalled pause, as realization seeped into the Student. He said: "Then the Seldon Plan has failed!" "Not yet. It merely may have failed. The probabilities of success are still twenty-one point four percent, as of the last assessment." 第二章 谢顿计划   请想像出一个房间! 房间在何处现在还不重要,只要知道这个房间是第二基地的一个重要所在。 几个世纪以来,这个房间一直保存着一门纯粹的科学——然而,数千年来被人们视为与科学同义的各种装置、设备、仪器等等,在此地却完全付之阙如。因为这里所保存的科学,只是以数学概念表达的理论。在科技尚未萌芽的史前原始时代,人类还集中于一个如今已经失落的世界时,先民中的智者所进行的冥想,其实就与这门科学的形式有些神似。 这个房间受到精神科学力量的保护。放眼当今银河,即使一切有形力量加在一起,也无法与这种精神科学相抗衡。 室内有一个较为显眼的物件——元光体,内部珍藏着谢顿计划的所有细节。 此外,室内还有一个人——首席发言者。 他是谢顿计划的第十二任最高监护者,而他所拥有的头衔,代表的就是表面上的意义——在第二基地领导者集会的场合,他是首先发言的一位。 他的前任曾经击败过骡,然而那场大规模奋战所留下的后遗症,至今仍然扰乱着谢顿计划的前途。过去二十五年以来,他与他所领导的组织,致力于将满是顽固、愚昧人类的银河重新纳入正轨——这是一项艰巨至极的工作。 现在,首席发言者抬起头来,看着渐渐打开的门。在这个孤寂的房间中,他正回顾着自己四分之一世纪来的努力——如今,这一切终于将要臻至顶点。虽然此时他是如此地专注,却仍有余裕以安然的心情期待着来人。他是一名年轻的弟子,将来,这些弟子中总有一位要继承他的位子。 年轻人此时正不知所措地站在门口,因此首席发言者向他走过去,将他领进室内,并且伸出一只手,亲切地按在他的肩头。 弟子露出羞赧的微笑,首席发言者对他的回应则是:“首先,我必须告诉你请你到这里来的目的。” 他们现在隔着书桌面对面坐着,两个人都没有真正开口说话。他们所使用的沟通方式,银河中任何一个不属于第二基地的人,全都无法会意或了解。 语言,是人类用来表达内心思想与感情的方法。它并非与生俱来的,必须经过学习的过程,也不能算是一种完美的沟通方式。人类所建立的语言沟通模式,只是利用各种声音的组合来表示精神的状态。然而这种方法却极为笨拙,而且表达能力明显不足,只能将心灵中细腻的思想,转换成发声器官所发出的迟钝声音。 追根究底,一直向深层探索下去,我们就能够发现,人类蒙受的一切苦难,都可以追溯到一个事实——那就是在银河的历史上,几乎没有任何人能够了解他人的心思。也许只有哈里•谢顿,以及其后的极少数人例外。每一个人都将自己隐藏在他人无法穿透的迷雾中,而每团迷雾里也只有一个人。偶尔,从某团迷雾会透出一丝微弱模糊的讯号,而人类就是借着这些讯号互相摸索。然而,由于相互之间无法了解,也就不能彼此互信互谅,所以每个人从幼年时代开始,始终处于一种绝对孤寂的状态,时时刻刻都会感到恐惧不安。长此以往,便导致了人与人之间的猜忌与迫害。 数十万年以来,人类的双脚在泥泞中蹒跚前进,心灵也因此被压制了同样久的时间。事实上,心灵的力量早就可以带领人类飞向天际。 过去,人类本能地努力寻找打破语言桎梏的方法,语意学、符号逻辑、精神分析……这些学问的目的都是要将语言精炼,甚至完全舍弃普通的语言。 心理史学是精神科学的一个重要发展方向。经过许多世代的努力,精神科学的数学化终于大功告成。为了了解神经系统的生理学与电化学——这必须一直钻研到核力的领域——因而相关的数学也有了长足的进展。利用这些最新发展的数学,心理学首度成为一门真正的科学:将心理学的知识从个体推广到群体,社会学的数字化过程也因此完成。 而较大的人类群体——例如一个行星上的数十亿人,一个星区中的数兆居民,乃至整个银河的千兆人口——就不仅仅只是众多人类的集合,其活动也成了能以统计方法处理的历史趋势。因此对于哈里•谢顿而言,历史的发展都是必然的,未来的一切都清楚地呈现眼前,而预设的计划则是绝对可行的。 这种导致谢顿计划发展的精神科学基础,也使第二基地得以超越语言。因此当首席发言者与弟子沟通时,他完全不需要开口发声。 人类心灵对于某个刺激的反应,不论引起的生物电流多么微弱,都能完整显示其内在的各种细微变化。因此,首席发言者能够直接感知弟子的情感内容。不过他的能力是长久训练的成果,而并非像骡那样,生来就具有超人的感应力。骡是一个独一无二的突变种,具有普通人无法了解的异能,甚至连第二基地的人也不能完全掌握。 然而,在我们这个必须靠语言沟通的社会里,仅只使用普通的文字,根本不可能表达出第二基地人士沟通的真正方式。所以从现在开始,我们只好假装忘掉这个环节,让首席发言者的信息以普通的会话表现。即使这项“翻译”偶尔会有失真之处,也是不得已的情况下最好的办法。 从现在开始,我们姑且认为首席发言者的确在说:“首先,我必须告诉你请你到这里来的目的。”而不再描述那是一个微笑、一个手部动作所代表的信息。 接着,首席发言者又说:“你从小到现在,几乎都在努力钻研精神科学,而且成绩相当优秀,已经将老师能够教给你的全部吸收。现在,你和其他几位同学,都可以成为见习发言者了。” 书桌对面突然传来一阵兴奋的情绪。 “不——你必须冷静地接受这个消息。你一直希望有资格被选上,并且担心自己落选。事实上,希望与担忧的情绪都是弱点。你明知道自己够资格,却又不太敢承认,害怕会给人留下过分自信,因而不适合这份工作的印象。这真是荒谬!最无可救药的笨人,就是聪明却没有自知之明的人。你对于自己的信心,其实也是你入选的原因之一。” 坐在书桌对面的弟子松了一口气。 “对,现在你的心情轻松许多,警戒也放松了,这样才有办法集中精神,才能够了解我将要对你说的话。记住,想要有效地发挥精神力量,并不需要将心灵绷得紧紧的。对于探测器而言,那无异是一种空洞的精神状态。此外,你应该培养一种单纯的心境,一种对自我的认知,一种无我的意识,如此任何情绪才能无所遁形。我的心灵现在已经对你敞开,让我们两人都达到这种境界。” 然后,他又继续说:“当一名发言者并不容易。其实,做一个心理史学家就不简单,然而即使最优秀的心理史学家,也不一定够格成为一名发言者,这两者是有区别的。发言者不仅要了解谢顿计划的复杂数学结构,还必须与这个计划及其目的相互共鸣;要热爱这个计划,并且将计划当成自己的生命。除此之外,还需要把它当作一位活生生的好朋友。你知道这是什么吗?” 首席发言者的手抬起来,在书桌中央一个闪亮的黑色立方体上来回轻抚——那是一个毫不起眼的物件。 “不知道,发言者,我不知道。” “你听说过元光体吗?” “这就是吗?”声音中充满了惊讶。 “你以为它看起来应该更高贵、更令人敬畏是吗?嗯,这也难怪。它是帝国时代的产物,由谢顿时代的工匠制成。近四百年来,它的表现都极为完美,从来不需要修理或调整。这可以算是我们的运气,因为就技术层面而言,第二基地没有任何人懂得它的构造和原理。”他轻轻一笑,又说,“第一基地的人也许有办法复制一个,不过,当然绝不能让他们知道。” 他压下书桌旁的一根操纵杆,室内便陷入一片黑暗。 不过在一瞬间之后,两侧的大幅墙壁便逐渐亮了起来。开始的时候是珍珠般的白色光芒,然后各处又现出了模糊的暗影,最后暗影凝聚成清晰整齐的黑色字体。那些字体构成了数不清的数学方程式,其间还穿插着许多蜿蜒的红色线条,仿佛是幽暗森林中的血色河流。 “过来,孩子,站到墙壁前面来。你的影子不会映在墙上,元光体辐射光线的方式非常特殊。老实告诉你,我一点也不知道这种效应的原理,不过我可以肯定,你的影子不会出现在墙壁上。” 他们一起站在光芒之中。两面墙的大小完全一样,都是十英尺高、三十英尺宽,墙上布满密密麻麻的蝇头小字,连一寸的空隙也没有。 “这还不是整个谢顿计划,”首席发言者说,“如果想将整个计划写在这两面墙上,方程式必须缩小到肉眼不可见的尺度——不过没有这个必要。你现在看到的,代表至今为止谢顿计划的主要部分,你已经全都学过了,对不对?” “是的,发言者,我全部学过了。” “你能辨识其中任何一部分吗?”短暂的沉默之后,弟子举起手来。当他的手指指向墙壁时,一列列的方程式同时向下移动,直到他心中所想的那个函数级数挪到眼前。仅仅是手指一个迅速而不经意的动作,就能如此精准,真是不可思议。 首席发言者发出轻笑声:“你将发现元光体能与你的心灵调谐,今后,你还会发现这个小装置有更多意想不到的功能。对于你所选取的这个方程式,你有什么心得?” 弟子支吾地说:“这是瑞格积分,利用整个行星的心理倾向分布,还有不稳定的情感模式,来表现行星上存在的两种主要经济阶级——它的范围也可以扩大为整个星区。” “它的意义又是什么呢?” “它代表张力的极限,因为在这里——”弟子伸手一指,众多的方程式随即同时众多的方程式随即同时众多的方程式随即同时众多的方程式随即同时。” “很好,”首席发言者道,“现在告诉我,你对这个结果有何感想——一个完美的杰作,对不对?” “绝对是的!” “错了!并非如此。”首席发言者的语气突然变得异常严厉,“这是你第一个必须纠正的观念。谢顿计划其实既不完整,也并非百分之百正确,反之,它只是如今我们所能做到的最佳结果。过去已经有十几代的先人,曾在这上面花了无数心血——研究这些方程式,将它们分解到最细微之处,然后又重新组合起来。除此之外,他们还静观近四百年的历史发展,将这些发展与方程式的预测相互对照,检查方程式的真实性,从中学习到许多新的知识。” “结果,他们学到了不少谢顿都不知道的东西。数个世纪以来所累积的这些知识,不但可以让我们重新导出谢顿的结果,甚至可以比他当年做得更好。这一点,你是否能够完全明白?” 弟子显得有些愕然。 “在你获得发言权之前,”首席发言者继续说道,“你自己也必须对谢顿计划有原创性的贡献。这并不是对谢顿的亵渎,事实上墙壁上的每一个红色记号,都代表谢顿之后的发言者所做的修正与补充。嗯……” 他抬头向上看了看,然后说:“在那里。” 整个墙壁似乎立时盘旋而下,向他们两人当头罩了下来。 “这一部分,”他说,“就是我的成绩。”他所指的那一块,是一个被红线圈住的两个分歧箭头,箭头旁边各有六平方尺的数学推导,其间则是一大串红色的方程式。首席发言者又说:“看起来没有什么,它所描述的是未来的发展。虽然谢顿计划已经进行了那么久,可是即使再过一倍的时间,这个情况也还不会出现。那是一个合并期,此时第二帝国业已形成,却掌握在两个敌对实力的手中。假如两者势均力敌的话,便可能使帝国分裂;然而若是势力太过悬殊,帝国又会被占上风的一方钳制得太紧。两种可能性在此都已考虑到了,并且已经详加解释,也指出了避免这两者发生的方法。” “然而这是一个几率问题,因此还有第三种可能的结果存在。这个结果的可能性很小——准确的数字是千分之一百二十六点四——然而,纵使对应于更小几率的事件,过去也都曾经发生过,而谢顿计划目前只完成了百分之四十。这第三种可能性,是当时两个或更多的敌对势力达成妥协。根据我的推导,这个结果会使第二帝国陷入无效益的模式,最后终将引发内战。与毫无妥协的结果比较起来,这种发展将对帝国造成更大的伤害。幸好这也是可以避免的,而这就是我个人的贡献。” “请原谅我打个岔,发言者——修正要如何进行呢?” “利用元光体作为媒介。比如说,就拿你自己作例子,你的数学推导将由五个评议会严格审查,然后在口试中,他们会一致对你提出无情的抨击,而你必须一一提出圆满的解释。两年以后,你的成果将会再次接受审核。过去曾经发生过不止一次,一个看来似乎完美无瑕的理论,经过数个月乃至数年的试用期后,其中的破绽才被发现。有些时候,还是发明者自己发现的。” “两年以后的第二次口试,绝不会比第一次简单。假使你仍然能够顺利通过,你的结果便会成为谢顿计划的一部分。如果在这段期间,你能够发现更多的细节、辅助的证据等等,那就更加理想了。我将这件事视为一生中最高的成就,而你将来也会拥有这份光荣。” “元光体可以调节到与你的心灵契合,所有的修正、补充都可以透过精神融合进行。不过你所做的修正与补充,都不会在任何地方留下你的名字。在计划执行的历史中,个人并不存在,它是我们集体的成果。你能够了解吗?” “我能了解,发言者!” “好,这方面谈得够多了。”他大步走到元光体前,墙壁上的显像在一瞬间全部消失,只剩下最上方射出的室内照明光芒。 “坐到我的书桌旁边来,让我再跟你说几句话。对于一位心理史学家而言,能了解《生物统计》和《神经化电数学》就足够了。很多心理史学家只精通这两门科学,因此仅能担任一名统计技术员。然而身为一位发言者,却要能够使用普通的语言讨论谢顿计划,而完全不必提到数学。即使不能如此畅谈计划的内容,至少要能讨论计划的目的与其哲学意义。” “首先我想问你,谢顿计划的目的究竟何在?请用你自己的话回答我,不要咬文嚼字。我向你保证,你的辞藻和语气都不在评分范围之内。” 这是弟子第一次有机会畅所欲言,在开始发表长篇大论之前,他迟疑了一下,然后才用不太有自信的口吻说:“根据我所学到的知识,我相信谢顿计划的意图是要建立一个新的文明,而这个文明的基础,在过去的历史上从未出现过。根据心理史学的计算结果,这种发展导向绝对不可能自行出现……” “停!”首席发言者强调,“你不可以用‘绝对’这两个字,那是一种偷懒而不负责任的说法。事实上,心理史学能够预测的只有几率,某个特殊事件也许极不可能发生,但是几率却总是大于零。” “是的,发言者,请准许我修正刚才的答案——大家都知道,这种发展导向自行出现的几率相当小。” “这样说就好多了。这种导向又是什么呢?” “就是一个植基于精神科学的文明。在所有已知的人类历史中,主要都是有形的科技在不断进展,也就是说,人类驾驭周遭无生物的能力越来越强。然而,人类对于自身以及社会的控制,凭借的只是随机的摸索,或者是以灵感、直觉、情感为基础的伦理体系。结果,在人类过去的历史中,从未出现过稳定度大于百分之五十五的文明,这可说是人类的大不幸。” “我们所讨论的这个导向,为什么几乎无法自行出现?” “因为在人类的精英分子中,大多数只具有发展物理科学的潜能,他们也的确获得了一些眼前的粗糙成就。仅有极少数的人,天生适于研究精神科学,惟有他们能够为人类开拓精神科学的领域。这些人的贡献虽然能持续得更久,可是他们提出的理论却过于玄妙而隐晦。此外,这种导向会导致一个由精神力量最高者——实际上就是更高级的一种人类——所构成的统治阶级,普通人一定会对此不满,因此他们的统治不可能稳定。除非他们施展精神力量,将普通人全都贬成畜牲一般。这样的发展是我们绝不愿见到的,因此必须设法避免。” “那么,解决之道又是什么呢?” “解决之道就是谢顿计划。这个计划安排并维系了各种有利的条件,使得在计划开展的千年之后——也就是再过六百年——第二银河帝国便会兴起,同时人类也已经能够接受精神科学的领导。在这一千年之中,第二基地借着精神科学的发展,将培养出一批心理学家,准备接掌这个帝国的领导权。我自己常常想,或许可以这么说——第一基地建立起一统政体的有形架构,第二基地则提供统治阶层的精神架构。” “很好,答得相当完善。即使在谢顿所预期的那个年代,真的会有某个第二帝国兴起,你认为是否就能真正实现他的理想?” “不,发言者,我认为并非如此。从计划开展之后的九百至一千七百年间,有好几个第二帝国可能出现,但是其中只有一个是真正的‘第二帝国’。” “就这方面而言,第二基地的存在为什么需要保密——尤其需要对第一基地保密?” 弟子试图找出这个问题的弦外之音,结果毫无所获,所以答得相当吃力:“就如同整个计划的细节必须对人类保密一样。心理史学定律本质上是统计性的,如果个人的反应并非是随机的,那么心理史学就会失效;如果一大群人知晓了谢顿计划的主要内容,他们的反应就会因此受到影响,而不再符合心理史学公设中的随机条件。换句话说,心理史学便无法再精确预测他们的行为。很抱歉,发言者,我自己也对这样的回答并不满意。” “幸好你有自知之明,你的回答相当不完整。其实是第二基地必须隐藏起来,而并非仅是谢顿计划。第二帝国目前尚未形成,如今的人类社会,仍旧无法接受心理学家组成的统治阶层,因此会畏惧第二帝国的建立,并且将会起而反抗。你能了解这一点吗?” “是的,发言者,我懂。但是老师从未强调过……” “千万不可小看这一点,虽然在课堂中,老师们从来没有提过,可是你自己应该有能力推出这个结论。从现在开始,在你见习的这段期间,除了这一点之外,我们还要好好研究许多类似的问题。我现在给你一个题目,一个星期之后再来见我,下次来的时候,我想要听听你的心得报告。我不要你做完整严密的数学推导,即使专家也要花上一年的时间,你在一周之内是不可能做到的。不过,我希望你提一提其中的倾向与发展方向……” “你看这里,在大约半个世纪前,谢顿计划出现了一个分叉,这个变化发生的几率低于千分之十,必要的细节都在里面。你将会发现,如果根据这个路径发展下去,所有的事件都会偏离原有的计划。我要你估算一下,这个偏差的发展持续多久之后,就会使得整个计划无法挽回。顺便估计一下,如果无法挽回的话,最后可能的结果是什么,并且提出一个合理的补救方案。” 弟子随意拨动着阅读镜,木然地看着小型荧幕中的内容。 然后弟子问道:“请问为什么要我研究这个问题,发言者?除了纯学术的探讨之外,它显然还有其他的意义。” “谢谢你,好孩子,不出我所料,你学得很快。这个问题并不是假设性的——大约在半个世纪之前,骡突然跃上银河历史的舞台,前后十年之间,他是宇宙间最大的单一事件。骡并不在算计之中,我们对他也毫无准备,结果他对谢顿计划造成了严重的破坏,幸好还没有到回天乏术的地步。” “然而,为了在他造成致命破坏之前阻止他,我们遂被迫主动与他为敌,因此暴露了我们的存在,而更糟更糟的一点,是我们的部分能力也因而曝光。第一基地从此知悉了我们的存在,而他们今后将会采取的行动,就可以根据这个事实预测出来。仔细审视面前的这个问题——这里,还有这里。” “自然,你不可以对任何人泄露这件事。” 弟子终于体会到了问题的严重性,这使他惊骇不已。沉默了好一会儿之后,他才又说:“那么谢顿计划已经失败了!” “还没有,只是有可能会失败。根据最近一次的估计,计划成功的几率还有千分之二百一十四。” Chapter 3 The Conspirators For Dr. Darell and Pelleas Anthor, the evenings passed in friendly intercourse; the days in pleasant unimportance. It might have been an ordinary visit. Dr. Darell introduced the young man as a cousin from across space, and interest was dulled by the clich? Somehow, however, among the small talk, a name might be mentioned. There would be an easy thoughtfulness. Dr. Darell might say, "No," or he might say, "Yes." A call on the open Communi-wave issued a casual invitation, "Want you to meet my cousin." And Arcadia's preparations proceeded in their own manner. In fact, her actions might be considered the least straightforward of all. For instance, she induced Olynthus Dam at school to donate to her a home-built, self-contained sound-receiver by methods which indicated a future for her that promised peril to all males with whom she might come into contact. To avoid details, she merely exhibited such an interest in Olynthus' self-publicized hobby ?he had a home workshop-combined with such a well-modulated transfer of this interest to Olynthus' own pudgy features, that the unfortunate youth found himself: 1) discoursing at great and animated length upon the principles of the hyperwave motor; 2) becoming dizzyingly aware of the great, absorbed eyes that rested so lightly upon his; and 3) forcing into her willing hands his own greatest creation, the aforesaid sound-receiver. Arcadia cultivated Olynthus in diminishing degree thereafter for just long enough to remove all suspicion that the sound-receiver had been the cause of the friendship. For months afterwards, Olynthus felt the memory of that short period in his life over and over again with the tendrils of his mind, until finally, for lack of further addition, he gave up and let it slip away. When the seventh evening came, and five men sat in the Darell living room with food within and tobacco without, Arcadia's desk upstairs was occupied by this quite unrecognizable home-product of Olynthus' ingenuity. Five men then. Dr. Darell, of course, with graying hair and meticulous clothing, looking somewhat older than his forty-two years. Pelleas Author, serious and quick-eyed at the moment looking young and unsure of himself. And the three new men: Jole Turbor, visicastor, bulky and plump-lipped; Dr. Elvett Semic, professor-emeritus of physics at the University, scrawny and wrinkled, his clothes only half-filled; Homir Munn, librarian, lanky and terribly ill-at-ease. Dr. Darell spoke easily, in a normal, matter-of-fact tone: "This gathering has been arranged, gentlemen, for a trifle more than merely social reasons. You may have guessed this. Since you have been deliberately chosen because of your backgrounds, you may also guess the danger involved. I won't minimize it, but I will point out that we are all condemned men, in any case. "You will notice that none of you have been invited with any attempt at secrecy. None of you have been asked to come here unseen. The windows are not adjusted to non-insight. No screen of any sort is about the room. We have only to attract the attention of the enemy to be ruined; and the best way to attract that attention is to assume a false and theatrical secrecy. (Hah, thought Arcadia, bending over the voices coming ?a bit screechily ?out of the little box.) "Do you understand that?" Elvett Semic twitched his lower lip and bared his teeth in the screwup, wrinkled gesture that preceded his every sentence. "Oh, get on with it. Tell us about the youngster." Dr. Darell said, "Pelleas Anthor is his name. He was a student of my old colleague, Kleise, who died last year. Kleise sent me his brain-pattern to the fifth sublevel, before he died, which pattern has been now checked against that of the man before you. You know, of course, that a brain-pattern cannot be duplicated that far, even by men of the Science of Psychology. If you don't know that, you'll have to take my word for it." Turbor said, purse-lipped, "We might as well make a beginning somewheres. We'll take your word for it, especially since you're the greatest electroneurologist in the Galaxy now that Kleise is dead. At least, that is the way I've described you in my visicast comment, and I even believe it myself. How old are you, Anthor?" "Twenty-nine, Mr. Turbor." "Hm-mmm. And are you an electroneurologist, too? A great one?" "Just a student of the science. But I work hard, and I've had the benefit of Kleise's training." Munn broke in. He had a slight stammer at periods of tension. "I ... I wish you'd g ... get started. I think everyone's t ... talking too much." Dr. Darell lifted an eyebrow in Munn's direction. you're right, Homir. Take over, Pelleas." "Not for a while," said Pelleas Anthor, slowly, "because before we can get started ?although I appreciate Mr. Munn's sentiment ?I must request brain-wave data." Darell frowned. "What is this, Anthor? What brain-wave data do you refer to?" "The patterns of all of you. You have taken mine, Dr. Darell. I must take yours and those of the rest of you. And I must take the measurements myself." Turbor said, "There's no reason for him to trust us, Darell. The young man is within his rights." "Thank you," said Anthor. "If you抣l lead the way to your laboratory then, Dr. Darell, well proceed. I took the liberty this morning of checking your apparatus." The science of electroencephalography was at once new and old. It was old in the sense that the knowledge of the microcurrents generated by nerve cells of living beings belonged to that immense category of human knowledge whose origin was completely lost It was knowledge that stretched back as far as the earliest remnants of human history? And yet it was new, too. The fact of the existence of microcurrents slumbered through the tens of thousands of years of Galactic Empire as one of those vivid and whimsical, but quite useless, items of human knowledge. Some had attempted to form classifications of waves into waking and sleeping, calm and excited, well and ill ?but even the broadest conceptions had had their hordes of vitiating exceptions. Others had tried to show the existence of brain-wave groups, analogous to the well-known blood groups, and to show that external environment was the defining factor. These were the race-minded people who claimed that Man could be divided into subspecies. But such a philosophy could make no headway against the overwhelming ecumenical drive involved in the fact of Galactic Empire ?one political unit covering twenty million stellar systems, involving all of Man from the central world of Trantor ?now a gorgeous and impossible memory of the great past ?to the loneliest asteroid on the periphery. And then again, in a society given over, as that of the First Empire was, to the physical sciences and inanimate technology, there was a vague but mighty sociological push away from the study of the mind. It was less respectable because less immediately useful; and it was poorly financed since it was less profitable. After the disintegration of the First Empire, there came the fragmentation of organized science, back, back ?past even the fundamentals of atomic power into the chemical power of coal and oil. The one exception to this, of course, was the First Foundation where the spark of science, revitalized and grown more intense was maintained and fed to flame. Yet there, too, it was the physical that ruled, and the brain, except for surgery, was neglected ground. Hari Seldon was the first to express what afterwards came to be accepted as truth. "Neural microcurrents," he once said, "carry within them the spark of every varying impulse and response, conscious and unconscious. The brain-waves recorded on neatly squared paper in trembling peaks and troughs are the mirrors of the combined thought-pulses of billions of cells. Theoretically, analysis should reveal the thoughts and emotions of the subject, to the last and least. Differences should be detected that are due not only to gross physical defects, inherited or acquired, but also to shifting states of emotion, to advancing education and experience, even to something as subtle as a change in the subject's philosophy of life." But even Seldon could approach no further than speculation. And now for fifty years, the men of the First Foundation had been tearing at that incredibly vast and complicated storehouse of new knowledge. The approach, naturally, was made through new techniques ?as, for example, the use of electrodes at skull sutures by a newly-developed means which enabled contact to be made directly with the gray cells, without even the necessity of shaving a patch of skull. And then there was a recording device which automatically recorded the brain-wave data as an overall total, and as separate functions of six independent variables. What was most significant, perhaps, was the growing respect in which encephalography and the encephalographer was held. Kleise, the greatest of them, sat at scientific conventions on an equal basis with the physicist. Dr. Darell, though no longer active in the science, was known for his brilliant advances in encephalographic analysis almost as much as for the fact that he was the son of Bayta Darell, the great heroine of the past generation. And so now, Dr. Darell sat in his own chair, with the delicate touch of the feathery electrodes scarcely hinting at pressure upon his skull, while the vacuum-incased needles wavered to and fro. His back was to the recorder ?otherwise, as was well known, the sight of the moving curves induced an unconscious effort to control them, with noticeable results ?but he knew that the central dial was expressing the strongly rhythmic and little-varying Sigma curve, which was to be expected of his own powerful and disciplined mind. It would be strengthened and purified in the subsidiary dial dealing with the Cerebellar wave. There would be the sharp, near-discontinuous leaps from the frontal lobe, and the subdued shakiness from the subsurface regions with its narrow range of frequencies? He knew his own brain-wave pattern much as an artist might be perfectly aware of the color of his eyes. Pelleas Anthor made no comment when Darell rose from the reclining chair. The young man abstracted the seven recordings, glanced at them with the quick, all-embracing eyes of one who knows exactly what tiny facet of near-nothingness is being looked for. "If you don't mind, Dr. Semic." Semic's age-yellowed face was serious. Electroencephalography was a science of his old age of which he knew little; an upstart that he faintly resented. He knew that he was old and that his wave-pattern would show it. The wrinkles on his face showed it, the stoop in his walk, the shaking of his hand ?but they spoke only of his body. The brain-wave patterns might show that his mind was old, too. An embarrassing and unwarranted invasion of a man's last protecting stronghold, his own mind. The electrodes were adjusted. The process did not hurt, of course, from beginning to end. There was just that tiny tingle, far below the threshold of sensation. And then came Turbor, who sat quietly and unemotionally through the fifteen minute process, and Munn, who jerked at the first touch of the electrodes and then spent the session rolling his eyes as though he wished he could turn them backwards and watch through a hole in his occiput. "And now? said Darell, when all was done. "And now," said Anthor, apologetically, "there is one more person in the house." Darell, frowning, said: "My daughter?" 'Yes. I suggested that she stay home tonight, if you'll remember." "For encephalographical analysis? What in the Galaxy for?" "I cannot proceed without it." Darell shrugged and climbed the stairs. Arcadia, amply warned, had the sound-receiver off when he entered; then followed him down with mild obedience. It was the first time in her life ?except for the taking of her basic mind pattern as an infant, for identification and registration purposes ?that she found herself under the electrodes. "May I see," she asked, when it was over, holding out her hand. Dr. Darell said, "You would not understand, Arcadia. Isn't it time for you to go to bed?" "Yes, father," she said, demurely. "Good night, all." She ran up the stairs and plumped into bed with a minimum of basic preparation. With Olynthus' sound-receiver propped beside her pillow, she felt like a character out of a book-film, and hugged every moment of it close to her chest in an ecstasy of "Spy-stuff." The first words she heard were Anthor's and they were: "The analyses, gentlemen, are all satisfactory. The child's as well." Child, she thought disgustedly, and bristled at Anthor in the darkness. Anthor had opened his briefcase now, and out of it, he took several dozen brain-wave records. They were not originals. Nor had the briefcase been fitted with an ordinary lock. Had the key been held in any hand other than his own, the contents thereof would have silently and instantly oxidized to an indecipherable ash. Once removed from the briefcase, the records did so anyway after half an hour. But during their short lifetime, Anthor spoke quickly. "I have the records here of several minor government officials at Anacreon. This is a psychologist at Locris University; this an industrialist at Siwenna. The rest are as you see." They crowded closely. To all but Darell, they were so many quivers on parchment. To Darell, they shouted with a million tongues. Anthor pointed lightly, "I call your attention, Dr. Darell, to the plateau region among the secondary Tauian waves in the frontal lobe, which is what all these records have in common. Would you use my Analytical Rule, sir, to check my statement?" The Analytical Rule might be considered a distant relation ?as a skyscraper is to a shack ?of that kindergarten toy, the logarithmic Slide Rule. Darell used it with the wristflip of long practice. He made freehand drawings of the result and, as Anthor stated, there were featureless plateaus in frontal lobe regions where strong swings should have been expected. "How would you interpret that, Dr. Darell?" asked Anthor. "I'm not sure. Offhand, I don't see how it's possible. Even in cases of amnesia, there is suppression, but not removal. Drastic brain surgery, perhaps?" "Oh, something's been cut out," cried Anthor, impatiently, "yes! Not in the physical sense, however. You know, the Mule could have done just that. He could have suppressed completely all capacity for a certain emotion or attitude of mind, and leave nothing but just such a flatness. Or else? "Or else the Second Foundation could have done it. Is that it?" asked Turbor, with a slow smile. There was no real need to answer that thoroughly rhetorical question. "What made you suspicious, Mr. Anthor?" asked Munn. "It wasn't I. It was Dr. Kleise. He collected brain-wave patterns much as the Planetary Police do, but along different lines. He specialized in intellectuals, government officials and business leaders. You see, it's quite obvious that if the Second Foundation is directing the historical course of the Galaxy ?of us ?that they must do it subtly and in as minimal a fashion as possible. If they work through minds, as they must, it is the minds of people with influence; culturally, industrially, or politically. And with those he concerned himself." "Yes," objected Munn, "but is there corroboration? How do these people act ?I mean the ones with the plateau. Maybe it's all a perfectly normal phenomenon." He looked hopelessly at the others out of his, somehow, childlike blue eyes, but met no encouraging return. "I leave that to Dr. Darell," said Anthor. "Ask him how many times he's seen this phenomenon in his general studies, or in reported cases in the literature over the past generation. Then ask him the chances of it being discovered in almost one out of every thousand cases among the categories Dr. Kleise studied." "I suppose that there is no doubt," said Darell, thoughtfully, "that these are artificial mentalities. They have been tampered with. In a way, I have suspected this? "I know that, Dr. Darell," said Author. "I also know you once worked with Dr. Kleise. I would like to know why you stopped." There wasn't actually hostility in his question. Perhaps nothing more than caution; but, at any rate, it resulted in a long pause. Darell looked from one to another of his guests, then said brusquely, "Because there was no point to Kleise's battle. He was competing with an adversary too strong for him. He was detecting what we ?he and I ?knew he would detect ?that we were not our own masters. And I didn't want to know! I had my self-respect. I liked to think that our Foundation was captain of its collective soul; that our forefathers had not quite fought and died for nothing. I thought it would be most simple to turn my face away as long as I was not quite sure. I didn't need my position since the Government pension awarded to my mother's family in perpetuity would take care of my uncomplicated needs. My home laboratory would suffice to keep boredom away, and life would some day end?Then Kleise died? Semic showed his teeth and said: "This fellow Kleise; I don't know him. How did he die?" Anthor cut in: "He died. He thought he would. He told me half a year before that he was getting too close--" "Now we're too c ... close, too, aren't we?" suggested Munn, dry-mouthed, as his Adam's apple jiggled. "Yes," said Anthor, flatly, "but we were, anyway ?all of us. It's why you've all been chosen. I'm Kleise's student. Dr. Darell was his colleague. Jole Turbor has been denouncing our blind faith in the saving hand of the Second Foundation on the air, until the government shut him off ?through the agency, I might mention, of a powerful financier whose brain shows what Kleise used to call the Tamper Plateau. Homir Munn has the largest home collection of Muliana ?if I may use the phrase to signify collected data concerning the Mule ?in existence, and has published some papers containing speculation on the nature and function of the Second Foundation. Dr. Semic has contributed as much as anyone to the mathematics of encephalographic analysis, though I don't believe he realized that his mathematics could be so applied." Semic opened his eyes wide and chuckled gaspingly, "No, young fellow. I was analyzing intranuclear motions ?the n-body problem, you know. I'm lost in encephalography." "Then we know where we stand. The government can, of course, do nothing about the matter. Whether the mayor or anyone in his administration is aware of the seriousness of the situation, I don't know. But this I do know ?we five have nothing to lose and stand to gain much. With every increase in our knowledge, we can widen ourselves in safe directions. We are but a beginning, you understand." "How widespread," put in Turbor, "is this Second Foundation infiltration?" "I don't know. There's a flat answer. All the infiltrations we have discovered were on the outer fringes of the nation. The capital world may yet be clean, though even that is not certain ?else I would not have tested you. You were particularly suspicious, Dr. Darell, since you abandoned research with Kleise. Kleise never forgave you, you know. I thought that perhaps the Second Foundation had corrupted you, but Kleise always insisted that you were a coward. You'll forgive me, Dr. Darell, if I explain this to make my own position clear. I, personally, think I understand your attitude, and, if it was cowardice, I consider it venial." Darell drew a breath before replying. "I ran away! Call it what you wish. I tried to maintain our friendship, however, yet he never wrote nor called me until the day he sent me your brainwave data, and that was scarcely a week before he died? "If you don't mind," interrupted Homir Munn, with a flash of nervous eloquence, "I d ... don't see what you think you're doing. We're a p ... poor bunch of conspirators, if we're just going to talk and talk and t ... talk. And I don't see what else we can do, anyway. This is v ... very childish. B ... brain-waves and mumbo jumbo and all that. Is there just one thing you intend to do?" Pelleas Author's eyes were bright, "Yes, there is. We need more information on the Second Foundation. It's the prime necessity. The Mule spent the first five years of his rule in just that quest for information and failed ?or so we have all been led to believe. But then he stopped looking. Why? Because he failed? Or because he succeeded?" "M ... more talk," said Munn, bitterly. "How are we ever to know?" "If you'll listen to me?The Mule's capital was on Kalgan. Kalgan was not part of the Foundation's commercial sphere of influence before the Mule and it is not part of it now. Kalgan is ruled, at the moment, by the man, Stettin, unless there's another palace revolution by tomorrow. Stettin calls himself First Citizen and considers himself the successor of the Mule. If there is any tradition in that world, it rests with the super-humanity and greatness of the Mule ?a tradition almost superstitious in intensity. As a result, the Mule's old palace is maintained as a shrine. No unauthorized person may enter; nothing within has ever been touched." "Well?" "Well, why is that so? At times like these, nothing happens without a reason. What if it is not superstition only that makes the Mule's palace inviolate? What if the Second Foundation has so arranged matters? In short what if the results of the Mule's five-year search are within? "Oh, p ... poppycock." "Why not?" demanded Anthor. "Throughout its history the Second Foundation has hidden itself and interfered in Galactic affairs in minimal fashion only. I know that to us it would seem more logical to destroy the Palace or, at the least, to remove the data. But you must consider the psychology of these master psychologists. They are Seldons; they are Mules and they work by indirection, through the mind. They would never destroy or remove when they could achieve their ends by creating a state of mind. Eh?" No immediate answer, and Anthor continued, "And you, Munn, are just the one to get the information we need." "I?" It was an astounded yell. Munn looked from one to the other rapidly, "I can't do such a thing. I'm no man of action; no hero of any teleview. I'm a librarian. If I can help you that way, all right, and I'll risk the Second Foundation, but I'm not going out into space on any qu ... quixotic thing like that." "Now, look," said Anthor, patiently, "Dr. Darell and I have both agreed that you're the man. It's the only way to do it naturally. You say you're a librarian. Fine! What is your main field of interest? Muliana! You already have the greatest collection of material on the Mule in the Galaxy. It is natural for you to want more; more natural for you than for anyone else. You could request entrance to the Kalgan Palace without arousing suspicion of ulterior motives. You might be refused but you would not be suspected. What's more, you have a one-man cruiser. You're known to have visited foreign planets during your annual vacation. You've even been on Kalgan before. Don't you understand that you need only act as you always have?" "But I can't just say, 'W ... won't you kindly let me in to your most sacred shrine, M ... Mr. First Citizen?? "Why not?" "Because, by the Galaxy, he won't let me!" "All right, then. So he won't Then you'll come home and we抣l think of something else." Munn looked about in helpless rebellion. He felt himself being talked into something he hated. No one offered to help him extricate himself. So in the end two decisions were made in Dr. Darell's house. The first was a reluctant one of agreement on the part of Munn to take off into space as soon as his summer vacation began. The other was a highly unauthorized decision on the part of a thoroughly unofficial member of the gathering, made as she clicked off a sound-receiver and composed herself for a belated sleep. This second decision does not concern us just yet. 第三章 同谋   达瑞尔博士与裴礼斯•安索两人,最近几天都过着悠闲的生活,白天优哉游哉地无所事事,晚间则忙着跟朋友交际应酬。偶尔有一些访客前来,达瑞尔博士便会为来客介绍,说这个年轻人是他的表弟,来自太空中遥远的另一端。经过这番介绍,大家便不再对安索的出现感到突兀。 当他们两人闲聊的时候,偶尔会提及某个人的名字,接下来就是一阵沉思,然后达瑞尔博士有时会说“不”,有时会说“好”。如果他说“好”的话,便会用通讯波打一通电话,向对方提出一个很普通的邀请:“有没有兴趣见见我的表弟?” 艾嘉蒂娅自己则另有一番打算,而且有条不紊地一步步开始进行。事实上,她的行动可说是相当地曲折迂回。比如说,她为了计划的需要,因而设计引诱同班的丸里萨斯•旦,让他心甘情愿地献出自制的集音器。由她所使用的那些方法,就可以知道将来与她接触的所有男性,全都注定逃不过她的手掌心。简单地说,由于丸里萨斯常爱吹嘘自己的课余嗜好——他有一间私人实验室,喜欢自己动手做这做那,她就故意表现出对丸里萨斯这项嗜好的兴趣,并且巧妙地将兴趣渐渐转移到丸里萨斯的矮胖身材上。结果这位不幸的傻小子,便发现自己在不知不觉间做了下列几件事:(一)滔滔不绝地讲了一大堆超波电动机的原理;(二)迷上了轻轻盯着自己的那双又大又亮的眸子;(三)将自己最伟大的杰作——前面提到的那台集音器——放进了艾嘉蒂娅伸出的双手中。 事后,艾嘉蒂娅便开始对丸里萨斯随意敷衍,渐渐地与他疏远。她做得恰到好处,不使他怀疑到集音器是这段友谊的惟一原因。前后有好几个月的时间,丸里萨斯在心中反复咀嚼那段短暂的欢乐时光,可是由于从此毫无进展,最后他也只好放弃,让这段初恋从生命中悄悄溜走。 裴礼斯•安索抵达之后的第七天晚上,有五位男士聚在达瑞尔家的客厅中,大家都吃得酒足饭饱,正在那里吞云吐雾。而在楼上,艾嘉蒂娅则坐在书桌旁边,桌上摆着那个丸里萨斯自制的杰作——最不像集音器的一台集音器。 客厅中的五个人当然包括达瑞尔博士,他的头发花白,穿着讲究,虽然只有四十二岁,看起来却比实际年龄大一些。裴礼斯•安索此时表情严肃,眼神游移不定,看来年轻而没有自信。此外还有三位从未出场的角色——裘尔•屠博是新闻幕播报员,身材高大、嘴唇肥厚;爱维特•瑟米克是某大学物理系的退休教授,骨瘦如柴又满脸皱纹,衣服里面好像还有很多空隙;侯密尔•孟恩是一名图书馆馆员,他的身材瘦长,总是带着一副惴惴不安的表情。 此时达瑞尔博士开始说话,他的口气轻松而自然:“各位先生,这场聚会除了社交目的之外,还有一点其他的原因,我想你们也都已经猜到了。由于各位的特殊背景,才会被我们精挑细选出来,大家应该不难猜出其中牵涉到的危险。我不会故作轻松,可是我也要指出一点,我们几个无论如何是无法脱身了。” “想必你们也已经注意到,我对各位的邀请都是光明正大的,没有请任何一位偷偷摸摸前来。我家的窗户未设定成空无一人的假相,房间的周围也没有任何防盗幕。因为一旦让敌人起疑,我们就注定完蛋。而最可能引人注目的做法,就是凡事过度神秘兮兮,结果反倒弄得欲盖弥彰。” (哈,艾嘉蒂娅在心中暗笑。她俯身靠在书桌旁,仔细听着集音器发出有些尖锐的声音。) “这点各位能了解吗?” 爱维特•瑟米克接口说道:“噢,请言归正传吧,告诉我们,这个年轻人究竟是谁。”他在每讲一句话之前,下唇总会先抽动一下,脸上挤出更多的皱纹,并且露出整排的牙齿。 达瑞尔博士回答:“他名叫裴礼斯•安索,是我的老同事克莱斯的学生。我这位老同事在去年过世。他在去世之前几天,曾经将安索的详细脑波图样——从第一阶到第五阶——寄了一份给我。我将他寄来的那些图样,与你们面前这位男士的脑波做过比对,当然,你们都应该知道,脑波图样不可能伪造到第五阶,连心理科学专家也无法做到这一点。如果你们不熟悉这个事实,就必须相信我的话。” 屠博撅着嘴说道:“我们最好进入正题吧。我们会相信你的话,克莱斯既然已经过世,如今你就是银河中最权威的神经电学家。至少,我在新闻幕中对你的评价就是如此,我自己也相信这一点。你今年多大,安索?” “二十九岁,屠博先生。” “嗯——你也是一位神经电学家?也是权威?” “我只能算是一个学生,不过我工作得非常努力,而且有幸能接受克莱斯博士的指导。” 此时孟恩插进一句话:“我……我希望你们能开……开始讲正经事。我认为大家的话都说……说得太多了。”他在紧张的时候总会有点口吃。 达瑞尔博士对孟恩扬了扬眉毛,回答他说:“你说得对,侯密尔……裴礼斯,你接着说吧。” “现在还不能说,”裴礼斯•安索缓缓地答道,“虽然我很同意孟恩先生的意见,但是在我们开始讨论正题之前,我必须要求各位提供脑波数据。” 达瑞尔皱着眉头说:“怎么回事,安索?你指的是什么脑波数据?” “你们每一个人的脑波图样。你已经测过我的脑波,达瑞尔博士,现在我也必须测定你们每个人的脑波,而且我得亲自进行。” 屠博说:“他没有理由相信我们,达瑞尔,这个年轻人有权利这么做。” “谢谢你。”安索说,“那么,达瑞尔博士,就请你带路到你的实验室去吧,我们说做就做。今天早上,我已经冒昧地检查过你的设备了。” 脑电图分析可说是最尖端的科学,也可以算是一门很古老的学问。说它古老的原因,是由于生物神经细胞能产生微弱电流的事实,属于那些来源早已不可考的人类文化遗产之一。勉强追溯的话,它似乎在人类历史的最早期便已存在…… 然而它也是最新的科学——在银河帝国上万年的历史中,神经电流的现象一直未曾受到重视,仅被视为奇妙有趣的一项常识,大多数的人都认为它没有任何用处。有人曾经试图将脑波分类,例如分成行走与睡眠、冷静与激动、健康与否等等。不过即使是最粗略的分类法,也难免会有一大堆例外出现。 此外,还有人想要证明脑波也像众所周知的血型一样,可以分为几种不同的类型。这些人认为对于脑波分类而言,外在的因素并没有决定性的影响。提倡这种理论的人多少具有一点种族偏见,认为人类可以根据脑波而区分成数个“亚种”。然而,在银河帝国普遍性的强势意识形态之下,这种学说当然无法获得任何实质进展。别忘了当年的帝国是泛银河的一统政体,囊括了两千万个星系,从川陀这个中央世界(它辉煌伟大的过去,如今已埋葬在历史的灰烬中),到银河外缘任何一颗孤独的小行星,银河中每一个人类都是帝国的子民。 此外,在一个专注于物理科学与机械科技发展的社会中,例如当年的第一银河帝国,自然会产生一种无形的强大阻力,反对心灵方面的研究。由于看不见立即的应用,精神科学普遍受到鄙视,而且因为它没有什么效益,所以研究经费也一直少得可怜。 第一帝国崩溃之后,各种科学也都遭到解体的命运,一直衰退,衰退,衰退到了连基本的核能都被遗忘,而只懂得使用煤炭与石油的化学能。当然,其中有一个例外,那就是第一基地——它延续了科学的薪传,保持了科技的火种,并且能够继续发扬光大。只不过在第一基地上,仍旧出现了物理科学独领风骚的局面。对于人类脑部的研究,除了外科手术之外,其他依旧是从未开发的处女地。 哈里•谢顿是第一个指出精神科学重要性的人,他下面的这番话被后人奉为真理:“神经微电流承载着人类所有的反应与冲动——包括意识与潜意识两者。在方格纸上记录的脑波图样,看来只是颤颤巍巍、起伏不已的波峰与波谷,事实上,却能够反映出数十亿细胞的思考脉动。对于脑波图样进行分析研究,理论上可以揭示任何微小的思想与情感。除了先天或后天的肉体缺陷造成的差异之外,无形因素引发的脑波变化也应该侦测得出来,包括情绪的转变、不同的教育与经历,甚至受测者的人生哲学这种微妙的因素。” 然而即使是谢顿,当年所能做的也仅止于臆测而已。 而在过去五十年间,第一基地的科学家终于开启了一个崭新的知识宝库。当然,他们的研究方法能够获得突破,主要还是拜先进科技之赐。例如最新发展的一种技术,能让电极穿过颅缝而直接与脑细胞接触,根本无需剃掉一根毛发。此外,新发明的装置可以自动记录脑波数据,不但可以做综合性的记录,还能够自动将六个独立变数分离出来。 不过最有意义的发展,也许应该算是脑电图科学与脑电图学者日渐受到重视。克莱斯曾经是这门科学的个中翘楚,当他参加学术会议的时候,完全可以跟物理学家平起平坐。而达瑞尔博士虽然不再活跃于科学界,可是他对脑波分析所做的卓越贡献,早已使他声名大噪。虽然他的母亲是贝妲•达瑞尔——上一代最伟大的女英雄,不过达瑞尔博士的名气只有一半是基于这个事实,另一半则是源自他本身的成就。 现在,达瑞尔博士坐在自己实验室的躺椅上,感觉到轻柔的电极似有若无地接触着头颅。在此同时,密闭于真空容器内的指针开始前后摆动,不过他却没有办法看见,因为他正背对着记录器——根据众所周知的事实,如果受测者看到那些跃动的曲线,潜意识便会想要控制它们的变化,因而引起不可忽略的误差。不过达瑞尔博士心里非常清楚,中央刻度盘显示的是极为规律、仅有小幅变化的曲线。因为他的心灵强健而训练有素,这是绝对可以预期的结果。输出的讯号经过放大与过滤之后,便能在另一个刻度盘上显示小脑的脑波。此外,自额叶发出的脑波,有着尖锐而几近不连续的跳跃;而表层区域的脑波,频率范围比较狭窄,不会有什么剧烈的振荡…… 他对自己的脑波图样了若指掌,就像艺术家对自己的眼珠颜色一清二楚一样。 当达瑞尔从躺椅上起身时,裴礼斯•安索没有发表任何评语。他只是仔细研究那七条曲线,迅速而毫无遗漏地一路看下去。从这些看似没有任何意义的记录中,他却能够明察秋毫,知道自己应该找寻什么。 “下面我想请瑟米克博士。” 瑟米克蜡黄的老脸显得十分严肃。脑电图分析是一门新进的科学,他知道得相当有限,因此对这门新兴学科没有什么好感。他明白自己已经上了年纪,而脑波图样也会反映出这个事实。当然,他的脸上满布皱纹、走路弯腰驼背、两手不时颤抖,都使他显得老态龙钟。不过那些都只是生理现象,可是脑波图样却会证明他连心灵都已老化。他最后的一道防线——他自己的心灵,如今眼看也要被人攻破,使他感到困窘不已而万分不愿。 电极很快就安置好了,整个过程从头到尾都极为顺利,当然一点痛楚都没有。电极只会带来极微弱的刺激,远远低于人体感觉的阀值。 接下来轮到屠博,在整整十五分钟的过程中,他安稳地坐在躺椅上,没有表现出任何不适。最后轮到孟恩,电极才刚刚碰触到他,他就吓得抽搐了一下,一对眼珠骨碌碌地转个下停,好像想把眼珠转到后面,透过后脑勺去观察测量的过程。 “现在你该满意了吧。”当一切结束之后,达瑞尔说道。 “现在还言之过早,”安索带着歉意答道:“这房子里还有一个人。” 达瑞尔皱着眉头说:“你是指我女儿?” “没错,你可记得,我请她今晚留在家里。” “为了做脑电图分析?老天,你到底为什么要这样做?” “我一定要做,否则一切都无法进行。” 达瑞尔耸耸肩,便向楼梯方向走了过去。艾嘉蒂娅早已听到这些对话,当达瑞尔走进她房间时,她及时把集音器关掉,然后乖乖跟着父亲下楼。当她还是婴儿的时候,曾经接受过基本的心灵型样测定,用来作为身份登记之用。除此之外,这是她生平第一次被那么多电极插在头上。 测量结束之后,她伸出手来问道:“我可以看看吗?” 达瑞尔博士说:“你看不懂的,艾嘉蒂娅。你是不是该去睡觉了?” “是的,爸爸。”她装模作样地说,“晚安,各位叔叔伯伯。” 她赶紧跑上楼,以最快的动作换好衣服,然后立刻跳到床上去。她把丸里萨斯的集音器放在枕头旁边,感到了从未有过的兴奋,觉得自己好像是胶卷书中的人物,正在从事一项机密的“谍报活动”。 她在床上听到的第一句话,是安索所说的:“各位先生,所有的分析都很正常,那个孩子也没有问题。” “孩子”——她满肚子不高兴,在黑漆漆的屋子里对安索做了一个鬼脸。 此时安索已经将他的手提箱打开,从里面抽出了数十份脑波记录。这些记录都并非原件,不过手提箱用的仍是一种特制的锁。别人即使拿到了钥匙,开启的时候也会触动机关,使内部的资料立刻氧化成无法辨识的灰烬。现在虽然由安索亲手取出,这些记录半小时后也会自动化成灰。 在这短短半小时中,安索争取时间迅速说道:“这些记录属于安纳克瑞昂的几个小官吏,这个是卢奎斯大学的心理学家,这是西维纳的一位实业家,其他的不用我再介绍了。” 大家全都挤成一团,不过只有达瑞尔看得出那些记录中的意义。其他人所看到的,只是印在羊皮纸上的许多颤动波纹而已。 安索轻轻指着其中一处,对众人说:“达瑞尔博士,请注意看那些额叶次级波纹,请你注意对应的高原区域,这些记录都有这个共同特点。你要不要用我的分析尺,来检查一下我的说法?” 安索拿着的那把分析尺,跟幼儿园学童使用的对数式计算尺,其实勉强可以算是远亲——就好像摩天大楼跟小茅屋也扯得上关系一样。达瑞尔接过分析尺,以熟练的手法操作着,再徒手将测量的结果画出来。正如安索所说的,额叶部分的脑波有一个平缓的高原,可是照理说它应该是振荡强烈的曲线。 “你要如何解释这个现象,达瑞尔博士?”安索问道。 “我不能确定。在没有做进一步的研究之前,我不知道怎么可能有这种结果。即使是严重的失忆症,也应该只能造成压抑的效应,而并非使波纹消除。也许,是动过脑部的大手术?” “噢,有什么东西被切掉了。”安索不耐烦地大叫,“对!但并不是什么有形的手术。你可知道,当年的骡也有办法做到这一点,他可以将他人心中某些情感或心意完全压抑,使得对应的脑波变为一条直线。或者……” “或者第二基地也能够做得到,是不是?”屠博问道,同时缓缓露出了一个笑容。 他所问的那一句“是不是?”,其实根本没有必要回答。 “你怎么会开始注意到这些的,安索先生?”孟恩问道。 “不是我,是克莱斯博士。他一生致力于搜集脑波图样,就像行星警察做的一样,只不过对象不同,他专门搜集知识分子、政府官员、商界领袖的脑波。你知道,如果第二基地掌控着银河的历史发展——也就是我们的发展,他们就必须进行得很巧妙,而且会将干预的程度尽量减到最小,这是很明显的一件事。假如他们用的是控制他人心灵的方法——事实上也必然如此,那么,选取的心灵一定是具有影响力的人士,包括文化界、工商界、政治界,因此克莱斯博士对这些人特别注意。” “哦,”孟恩反驳道,“可是有确实的证据吗?这些人有什么反常的行为——我是说脑波中出现高原的那些人?也许这是一种完全正常的现象。”他心虚地环顾四周,用他那双带点稚气的蓝眼睛看了看其他人,可是却没见到一丝鼓励的眼神。 “我把这个问题留给达瑞尔博士回答。”安索说,“你可以问问他,在他那么多年的研究生涯中,或是在过去一代的学术报告文献里,这种现象他曾经见过多少次?然后你还可以问问他,在克莱斯博士所研究的样本中,平均每一千人出现一个这样的例子,几率又是多少?” “这些都是被外力改造过的精神状态,”达瑞尔以深思熟虑的口气说:“这一点我想是毫无疑问的。他们的心灵全部都受到了干扰,就某一方面而言,我怀疑这个……” “我知道,达瑞尔博士,”安索说,“我也知道你曾经与克莱斯博士共事过,我希望知道你为何会半途退出。” 这个问题其实并没有任何敌意,动机也许纯粹出于谨慎,可是无论如何,却造成了好一阵子的沉默。达瑞尔轮流瞪视着每一位客人,最后终于坦率地说:“因为克莱斯的长期奋战根本毫无意义,他的对手比他强太多了。他想证明的事实,是我们——他和我——心知肚明的一件事,那就是我们只是别人的傀儡。可是,我却不希望知道这个真相!我有我的自尊,我宁愿相信基地是其自身成员的真正领袖,而我们的祖先前仆后继,并不是平白无故地牺牲。我不敢面对现实,而最简单的办法就是不要再继续钻研下去,只要我自己不确定,心里就不会感到那么痛苦。我并不需要那个职位,政府赠与家母的永久俸禄,足以照顾我一家简单的生活,我的私人实验室可以帮我打发时间,而日子总有过完的一天……可是现在克莱斯死了……” 瑟米克又先露出了整排牙齿,然后说道:“那个叫克莱斯的家伙,我不认识他,他究竟是怎么死的?” 安索插嘴道:“他就是死了。他早已预见自己的死期,半年多以前,他就告诉我自己渐渐接近……” “而我们现在也接……接近了,对不对?”孟恩问道。他感到口干舌燥,喉结不停地上下微动。 “没错,”安索以平板的语气答道,“可是无论如何,我们——我们大家——早就命中注定了,这就是我们请各位前来密商的原因。我自己是克莱斯的学生,达瑞尔博士曾经是他的同僚。裘尔•屠博曾在广播节目中,公然抨击我们对于第二基地的盲目依赖,最后终于被政府革职——也许我该顺便提一下,政府用的是借刀杀人之计,出面的是一个有钱有势的资本家,而那个资本家的脑波,便具有克莱斯所谓的‘干扰高原’。侯密尔•孟恩私人搜集了最完整的‘骡学’文献——我故意用这个字眼,来称呼有关骡的各种资料——而且还发表过几篇论文,推测第二基地的本质与功能。至于瑟米克博士,他对脑电图分析的数学有过卓越贡献,不过我想连他自己也不知道,他所发展的数学能够应用在这一方面。” 瑟米克睁大了眼睛,笑得有点喘不过气来。他说:“我不晓得。小伙子,你知道的,我钻研的是核内运动——这属于多体问题的范畴,我对脑电图根本就一窍不通。” “那么,现在我们都知道自己的立场了。当然,政府对这个问题完全束手无策,我不知道市长或者他下面的任何人,是否已经了解到问题的严重性。但是我却知道,我们五个反正已经是死路一条,如果我们挺身而出,也许还有机会扭转乾坤。我们知道得越多,自身的处境也就越安全,现在一切才刚刚开始,各位都应该了解吧。” “第二基地进行的渗透,”屠博插嘴问道,“范围究竟有多广泛?” “我不知道,不过可以告诉你,我们目前所发现的渗透现象,都只是在外围领域,首都世界也许还没有被波及。不过这一点也不能完全肯定——否则,我根本就用不着检查你们的脑波。达瑞尔博士,其实你本人最为可疑,你可知道,由于你半途与克莱斯拆伙,克莱斯从来没有原谅过你。我曾经猜想,或许是第二基地收买了你,可是克莱斯却始终坚持你是个懦夫。请不要见怪,达瑞尔博士,我这样有话直说,只是想表明自己的立场。我——我自认可以了解你的心意,如果你真是懦弱的话,也实在情有可原。” 达瑞尔深深吸了一口气,然后才回答说:“我的确是临阵脱逃!随便你怎么说都没有关系,我曾经试图维持我们之间的友谊,可是,他从此没有再写信或打电话给我。直到那一天,我收到你的脑波数据,而一周后他就去世了……” “对不起,”侯密尔•孟恩打断了他的话,然后以紧张兮兮的口气,理直气壮地说,“我认为你们自己都搞不……不清楚到底在干什么,如果我们一直像这样讲个不停,讲个不停,讲个……不停,那我们只是一群光会纸……纸上谈兵的阴谋家。反正,我根本看不出我们能做些什么,这实在是非……非常幼稚,什么脑……脑电波等等的一大堆废话,你们到底有没有想到什么具体行动?” 裴礼斯•安索的眼睛突然亮了起来:“当然有,我们需要搜集更多关于第二基地的资料,这是最重要的一件事。在骡统治银河的第一个五年间,他曾经试图探索第二基地的下落,可是终究失败了——或者说,大家都以为他失败了。然而他突然中止了寻找的行动,这究竟是为什么呢?因为他失败了?还是因为他成功了?” “还……还在耍嘴皮子,”孟恩以苦涩的口气说,“我们又怎么知道?” “请你耐心听我说完。当年骡定都于卡尔根,在骡崛起之前,卡尔根并不在基地的贸易势力网之内,如今也仍旧如此。现在卡尔根由一位名叫史铁亭的军阀统治——除非明天再度爆发一场宫廷革命。他自称第一公民,并且自命为骡的继任者。如果说那个世界有任何传统,那就是对于骡的超人本领的盲目崇拜——这种强烈的传统已经近乎迷信。结果,当年骡的官邸如今成了圣殿,政府全力善加维护,普通人不准进入,里面的东西也全都原封未动。” “这又怎么样呢?” “怎么样,为什么会这样呢?如今是一个事出必有因的时代,假如骡的官邸完好如初,并不是由于迷信的关系呢?若是由第二基地所安排的又如何呢?简单地说,如果骡探索了五年的结果,就在里面……” “噢,胡……胡说八道。” “为什么不可能?”安索反问:“第二基地从一开始就神出鬼没,对于银河事务一直维持最小程度的干预。我知道在我们看来,将那座官邸摧毁会更合理,或者至少应该将其中的资料移走。可是你必须设法揣摩那些心理学大师的心理,他们个个都是谢顿,都是骡;他们行事全都依靠精神力量,方法一律是既迂回又曲折。如果他们建立起一种心理状态,足以保护其中的资料,他们就不会想要将它毁掉或搬走。你们说是不是?” 没有人立刻答腔,于是安索又继续说:“而你,孟恩,就是我们的最佳人选,你必须帮我们弄到那些情报。” “我?”这句话其实是一声充满了惊愕的吼叫。然后孟恩迅速地环视众人,再说,“我可不会做这种事,我既不是行动派,也不是超视中的英雄,只是一名图书馆馆员。如果我能在图书馆里面帮你们的忙,那我索性就豁出去,冒险帮你们找找第二基地。可是我绝不要到太空去,去做那种疯……疯狂的事情。” “听好,”安索耐着性子说,“达瑞尔博士跟我,都一致同意你是最佳人选,只有你去才能显得最自然。你说你是一名图书馆馆员,很好!你最感兴趣的是什么题目?是‘骡学’!放眼当今银河,你收藏的关于骡的资料没人比得上,自然会想要搜集更多这方面的资料,所以你的动机比任何人都要单纯。如果你申请进入卡尔根的骡殿,不会有人怀疑你有其他的动机。也许你的申请会被拒绝,可是却不会引起任何疑心。此外,你有一艘单人太空游艇,而且大家都知道,你每年放暑假的时候,都会驾着那艘游艇去异邦行星旅行,而且也曾经去过卡尔根。你只需要照着以前的方式去做,这你难道不懂吗?” “但是我不能就这么冒冒失失地去说:您能……能否恩准我进入你们最神圣的圣殿,第……第一公民阁下?” “有何不可?” “因为,银河在上,他不可能批准的!” “好吧,如果他不准的话,那么你就马上回来,我们再想别的法子。” 孟恩露出了万分不愿的表情,默默地环顾其他四个人。他感到自己马上就要被说服,去做一件极不情愿的事情。可是在座的其他人,却没有一位愿意向他伸出援手。 就这样,在这个夜晚结束之前,有两项决定在达瑞尔博士家中出炉。第一个是孟恩所做的决定,他心不甘、情不愿地答允众人,一旦暑假开始,他就立刻奔向太空。 而第二个决定,则是出自这个聚会的一位非正式成员。当艾嘉蒂娅关掉集音器,终于准备就寝的时候,她私下做了一个重要决定。至于它的内容,现在对我们还不重要。 在第二基地上,时间又过去了一个星期。现在,首席发言者再度笑容可掬地迎接那名弟子。 “你一定发现了什么有趣的结果,否则不会满腔怒火。” 弟子用手按着带来的一束计算纸,然后说:“您确定这个问题是真实的吗?” “前提是千真万确的,我一点都没有改动。” “那么,我就必须接受计算的结果,可是我又不愿意接受。” “自然,但是你自己的希望跟这又有什么关系?好吧,告诉我你究竟在担心什么。不,不,把你的推导过程放在一边,等一下我再来分析。现在,用你自己的话告诉我,让我来判断你对这个问题的了解程度。” Chapter 4 Approaching Crisis A week had passed on the Second Foundation, and the First Speaker was smiling once again upon the Student. "You must have brought me interesting results, or you would not be so filled with anger." The Student put his hand upon the sheaf of calculating paper he had brought with him and said, "Are you sure that the problem is a factual one?" "The premises are true. I have distorted nothing." "Then I must accept the results, and I do not want to." "Naturally. But what have your wants to do with it? Well, tell me what disturbs you so. No, no, put your derivations to one side. I will subject them to analysis afterward. Meanwhile, talk to me. Let me judge your understanding." "Well, then, Speaker?It becomes very apparent that a gross overall change in the basic psychology of the First Foundation has taken place. As long as they knew of the existence of a Seldon Plan, without knowing any of the details thereof, they were confident but uncertain. They knew they would succeed, but they didn't know when or how. There was, therefore, a continuous atmosphere of tension and strain ?which was what Seldon desired. The First Foundation, in other words, could be counted upon to work at maximum potential." "A doubtful metaphor," said the First Speaker, "but I understand you." "But now, Speaker, they know of the existence of a Second Foundation in what amounts to detail, rather merely than as an ancient and vague statement of Seldon's. They have an inkling as to its function as the guardian of the Plan. They know that an agency exists which watches their every step and will not let them fall. So they abandon their purposeful stride and allow themselves to be carried upon a litter. Another metaphor, I'm afraid." "Nevertheless, go on." "And that very abandonment of effort; that growing inertia; that lapse into softness and into a decadent and hedonistic culture, means the ruin of the Plan. They must be self-propelled." "Is that all?" "No, there is more. The majority reaction is as described. But a great probability exists for a minority reaction. Knowledge of our guardianship and our control will rouse among a few, not complacence, but hostility. This follows from Korillov's Theorem? "Yes, yes. I know the theorem." "I'm sorry, Speaker. It is difficult to avoid mathematics. In any case, the effect is that not only is the Foundation's effort diluted, but part of it is turned against us, actively against us." "And is that all?" "There remains one other factor of which the probability is moderately low---" "Very good. What is that?" "While the energies of the First Foundation were directed only to Empire; while their only enemies were huge and outmoded hulks that remained from the shambles of the past, they were obviously concerned only with the physical sciences. With us forming a new, large part of their environment, a change in view may well be imposed on them. They may try to become psychologists? "That change," said the First Speaker, coolly, "has already taken place." The Student's lips compressed themselves into a pale line. "Then all is over. It is the basic incompatibility with the Plan. Speaker, would I have known of this if I had lived ?outside?" The First Speaker spoke seriously, "You feel humiliated, my young man, because, thinking you understood so much so well, you suddenly find that many very apparent things were unknown to you. Thinking you were one of the Lords of the Galaxy; you suddenly find that you stand near to destruction. Naturally, you will resent the ivory tower in which you lived; the seclusion in which you were educated; the theories on which you were reared. "I once had that feeling. It is normal. Yet it was necessary that in your formative years you have no direct contact with the Galaxy, that you remain here, where all knowledge is filtered to you, and your mind carefully sharpened. We could have shown you this ... this part-failure of the Plan earlier and spared you the shock now, but you would not have understood the significance properly, as you now will. Then you find no solution at all to the problem?" The Student shook his head and said hopelessly, "None!" "Well, it is not surprising. Listen to me, young man. A course of action exists and has been followed for over a decade. It is not a usual course, but one that we have been forced into against our will. It involves low probabilities, dangerous assumptions?We have even been forced to deal with individual reactions at times, because that was the only possible way, and you know that Psychostatistics by its very nature has no meaning when applied to less than planetary numbers." "Are we succeeding?" gasped the Student. "There's no way of telling yet. We have kept the situation stable so far ?but for the first time in the history of the Plan, it is possible for the unexpected actions of a single individual to destroy it. We have adjusted a minimum number of outsiders to a needful state of mind; we have our agents ?but their paths are planned. They dare not improvise. That should be obvious to you. And I will not conceal the worst ?if we are discovered, here, on this world, it will not only be the Plan that is destroyed, but ourselves, our physical selves. So you see, our solution is not very good." "But the little you have described does not sound like a solution at all, but like a desperate guess." "No. Let us say, an intelligent guess." "When is the crisis, Speaker? When will we know whether we have succeeded or not?" "Well within the year, no doubt." The Student considered that, then nodded his head. He shook hands with the Speaker. "Well, it's good to know." He turned on his heel and left. The first Speaker looked out silently as the window gained transparency. Past the giant structures to the quite, crowding stars. A year would pass quickly. Would any of them, any of Seldon's heritage, be alive at its end? 第四章 迫在眉睫   “嗯,既然这样,发言者,结论似乎非常明显——第一基地的基本心理状态,曾经发生过整体性的改变。如果他们仅仅知晓谢顿计划的存在,而不了解其中的任何细节,那么,他们虽然会对自己有信心,可是却无法肯定;他们知道自己终将成功,但是不能预知如何进行,以及何时能够成功。因此,这就形成了连续不断的紧张气氛,而这正是谢顿所预期的。换句话说,如此就可以指望第一基地发挥最大的潜能。” “这是一个含糊的譬喻,”首席发言者说:“不过我可以了解你的意思。” “可是如今,发言者,他们已经知道了第二基地的存在。我的意思是说,除了谢顿当年那句晦涩的描述之外,他们又获悉了许多细节。他们已经模糊地感觉到,第二基地的功能就是守护谢顿计划,知道这个组织正在监视他们每一步的进展,不会坐视他们失败而袖手旁观。所以他们放弃了主动的步伐,等着我们用担架来抬他们。对不起,这又是一个譬喻。” “没关系,继续说。” “他们不再努力,变得软弱、颓废,养成了惰性,兴起了享乐主义的文化,这一切都在腐蚀着谢顿计划。他们一定要不断自我鞭策才行。” “你说完了吗?” “不,我还有话要说。上面我所说的只是大多数人的反应,可是还有一种少数人的反应,对应的几率也非常之高。当我们这个守护者、控制者的角色曝光之后,会有少数人非但不感到满足,反而会对我们产生很大的敌意。这项推导是根据勾里洛夫定理……” “没错,没错,我知道那个定理。” “很抱歉,发言者,想要避开数学的确很困难。反正,我们曝光之后所引发的效应,除了使第一基地不再积极主动之外,还会使得部分人士起了对付我们的念头——主动地对付我们。” “现在你说完了吗?” “还有另外一项因素,它的几率并不算高……” “很好,那又是什么?” “当初第一基地以全副心力对抗帝国时,惟一的敌人只是一个被时代淘汰的庞大残躯,那时他们显然专注于物理科学的发展。可是我们出现之后,对他们形成一个崭新而重大的影响,极可能会造成他们观念的改变。或许有些人会试图成为心理学家……” “那种改变,”首席发言者用沉着的口吻说,“其实已经发生了。” 弟子紧紧抿起嘴唇,形成了一条苍白的直线。他做出了自己的结论:“那么就全完了,因为这造成了一个与计划本质不相容的结果。发言者,如果我是——局外人的话,有可能知道这个事实吗?” 首席发言者表情严肃地说:“我知道你感到了羞辱,年轻人。因为你本来以为已经了解整个局势,突然间,却发现有许多非常明显的事情并不知道;你原来以为自己是银河的主宰,却忽然发觉自己面临着毁灭的命运。自然,你会怨恨过去的那座象牙塔、那种隐遁式的教育,以及你所学到的各种理论。” “我也曾经有过那种情绪,这是很正常的现象。然而在你的养成期,的确有必要不让你与银河直接接触。因此你必须留在此地,接受一切经过过滤的知识,将心灵训练得敏锐无比。我们可以早些将这……计划中的局部失败透露给你,让你不至于直到今天才受到震撼。可是那样你将无法了解真正的严重性,而现在你却能够体会——所以说,你发现这个问题根本没有任何解答?” 弟子猛摇着头,以绝望的口气说:“没有!” “好,我并不感到惊讶。听我说,年轻人,其实还是有一个解决之道,而且,这条路我们已经走了超过十年。这不是一条普通的行动路线,也违背了我们的意愿,但是我们却不得不这么做。它所对应的几率甚低,并且牵涉到了危险的假设——有些时候,我们甚至被迫去处理个体的反应,只因为这是惟一的一条活路。可是你也知道,将心理统计学应用到小于一个行星的人口时,其实根本就失去了意义。” “我们的进展顺利吗?”弟子喘着气问道。 “现在还没有办法看出来,我们目前将情况控制得还算稳定——如今,某个普通个体无法预料的行为,就有可能毁掉整个谢顿计划。在计划执行的历史中,还是头一次出现这种状况。我们选取了最少数的外人,调整他们的心灵状态;我们也有自己的特务——不过他们全都按照计划行动,从来不敢随机应变。你应该很明白如今的处境,我也不打算对你隐瞒最坏的情况——如果我们被发现了,我是说这里,这个世界,那么不只是谢顿计划将被毁灭,我们自己,我们的血肉之躯也将要陪葬。所以你可以看得出来,我们的解决之道并不太理想。” “可是您刚才提到的那一点点,听起来根本就不像是解答,反倒像是一个绝望的猜测。” “不对,我们应该说,是一个明智的猜测。” “危机什么时候会来临,发言者?我们什么时候可以知道能否成功?” “不会超过一年,这一点毫无疑问。” 弟子思考了一会儿,然后点了点头,再上前跟发言者握手,并且说:“无论如何,我很高兴自己能够知道这些。” 说完他就转身离去。 当窗玻璃渐渐变成透明时,首席发言者默默向外望去。他的目光越过许多巨大的建筑物,一直投射到寂静而拥挤的星空。 一年的时间很快就会过去,到了那个时候,他们这些“谢顿的选民”,是否还能有任何人活着呢? Chapter 5 Stowaway It was a little over a month before the summer could be said to have started. Started, that is, to the extent that Homir Munn had written his final financial report of the fiscal year, seen to it that the substitute librarian supplied by the Government was sufficiently aware of the subtleties of the post ?last year's man had been quite unsatisfactory ?and arranged to have his little cruiser the Unimara ?named after a tender and mysterious episode of twenty years past ?taken out of its winter cobwebbery. He left Terminus in a sullen distemper. No one was at the port to see him off. That would not have been natural since no one ever had in the past. He knew very well that it was important to have this trip in no way different from any he had made in the past, yet he felt drenched in a vague resentment. He, Homir Munn, was risking his neck in derring-doery of the most outrageous sort, and yet he left alone. At least, so he thought. And it was because he thought wrongly, that the following day was one of confusion, both on the Unimara and in Dr. Darell's suburban home. It hit Dr. Darell's home first, in point of time, through the medium of Poli, the maid, whose month's vacation was now quite a thing of the past. She flew down the stairs in a flurry and stutter. The good doctor met her and she tried vainly to put emotion into words but ended by thrusting a sheet of paper and a cubical object at him. He took them unwillingly and said: "What's wrong, Poli?" "She's gone, doctor." "Who's gone?" "Arcadia!" "What do you mean, gone? Gone where? What are you talking about?" And she stamped her foot: 'I don't know. She's gone, and there's a suitcase and some clothes gone with her and there's that letter. Why don't you read it, instead of just standing there? Oh, you men!" Dr. Darell shrugged and opened the envelope. The letter was not long, and except for the angular signature, "Arkady," was in the ornate and flowing handwriting of Arcadia's transcriber. Dear Father: It would have been simply too heartbreaking to say good-by to you in person. I might have cried like a little girl and you would have been ashamed of me. So I'm writing a letter instead to tell you how much III miss you, even while I'm having this perfectly wonderful summer vacation with Uncle Homir. III take good care of myself and it won't be long before I抦 home again. Meanwhile, I'm leaving you something that's all my own. You can have it now. Your loving daughter, Arkady. He read it through several times with an expression that grew blanker each time. He said stiffly, "Have you read this, Poli?" Poli was instantly on the defensive. "I certainly can't be blamed for that, doctor. The envelope has 'Poli' written on the outside, and I had no way of telling there was a letter for you on the inside. I'm no snoop, doctor, and in the years I've been with? Darell held up a placating hand, "Very well, Poli. It's not important. I just wanted to make sure you understood what had happened." He was considering rapidly. It was no use telling her to forget the matter. With regard to the enemy, "forget" was a meaningless word; and the advice, insofar as it made the matter more important, would have had an opposite effect. He said instead, "She's a queer little girl, you know. Very romantic. Ever since we arranged to have her go off on a space trip this summer, she's been quite excited." "And just why has no one told me about this space trip?" "It was arranged while you were away, and we forgot It's nothing more complicated than that." Poli's original emotions now concentrated themselves into a single, overwhelming indignation, "Simple, is it? The poor chick has gone off with one suitcase, without a decent stitch of clothes to her, and alone at that. How long will she be away?" "Now I won't have you worrying about it, Poli. There will be plenty of clothes for her on the ship. It's been all arranged. Will you tell Mr. Anthor, that I want to see him? Oh, and first ?is this the object that Arcadia has left for me?" He turned it over in his hand. Poli tossed her head. "I'm sure I don't know. The letter was on top of it and that's every bit I can tell you. Forget to tell me, indeed. If her mother were alive? Darell, waved her away. "Please call Mr. Anthor." Anthor's viewpoint on the matter differed radically from that of Arcadia's father. He punctuated his initial remarks with clenched fists and tom hair, and from there, passed on to bitterness. "Great Space, what are you waiting for? What are we both waiting for? Get the spaceport on the viewer and have them contact the Unimara." "Softly, Pelleas, she's my daughter." "But it's not your Galaxy." "Now, wait. She's an intelligent girl, Pelleas, and she's thought this thing out carefully. We had better follow her thoughts while this thing is fresh. Do you know what this thing is?" "No. Why should it matter what it is?' "Because it's a sound-receiver." "That thing?" "It's homemade, but it will work. I've tested it. Don't you see? It's her way of telling us that she's been a party to our conversations of policy. She knows where Homir Munn is going and why. She's decided it would be exciting to go along." "Oh, Great Space," groaned the younger man. "Another mind for the Second Foundation to pick." "Except that there's no reason why the Second Foundation should, a priori, suspect a fourteen-year-old girl of being a danger ?unless we do anything to attract attention to her, such as calling back a ship out of space for no reason other than to take her off. Do you forget with whom we're dealing? How narrow the margin is that separates us from discovery? How helpless we are thereafter?" "But we can't have everything depend on an insane child." She's not insane, and we have no choice. She need not have written the letter, but she did it to keep us from going to the police after a lost child. Her letter suggests that we convert the entire matter into a friendly offer on the part of Munn to take an old friend's daughter off for a short vacation. And why not? He's been my friend for nearly twenty years. He's known her since she was three, when I brought her back from Trantor. It's a perfectIy natural thing, and, in fact, ought to decrease suspicion. A spy does not carry a fourteen-year-old niece about with him." "So. And what will Munn do when he finds her?" Dr. Darell heaved his eyebrows once. "I can't say ?but I presume she抣l handle him." But the house was somehow very lonely at night and Dr. Darell found that the fate of the Galaxy made remarkably little difference while his daughter's mad little life was in danger. The excitement on the Unimara, if involving fewer people, was considerably more intense. In the luggage compartment, Arcadia found herself, in the first place, aided by experience, and in the second, hampered by the reverse. Thus, she met the initial acceleration with equanimity and the more subtle nausea that accompanied the inside-outness of the first jump through hyperspace with stoicism. Both had been experienced on space hops before, and she was tensed for them. She knew also that luggage compartments were included in the ship's ventilation-system and that they could even be bathed in wall-light. This last, however, she excluded as being too unconscionably unromantic. She remained in the dark, as a conspirator should, breathing very softly, and listening to the little miscellany of noises that surrounded Homir Munn. They were undistinguished noises, the kind made by a man alone. The shuffling of shoes, the rustle of fabric against metal, the soughing of an upholstered chair seat retreating under weight, the sharp click of a control unit, or the soft slap of a palm over a photoelectric cell. Yet, eventually, it was the lack of experience that caught up with Arcadia. In the book films and on the videos, the stowaway seemed to have such an infinite capacity for obscurity. Of course, there was always the danger of dislodging something which would fall with a crash, or of sneezing ?in videos you were almost sure to sneeze; it was an accepted matter. She knew all this, and was careful. There was also the realization that thirst and hunger might be encountered. For this, she was prepared with ration cans out of the pantry. But yet things remained that the films never mentioned, and it dawned upon Arcadia with a shock that, despite the best intentions in the world, she could stay hidden in the closet for only a limited time. And on a one-man sports-cruiser, such as the Unimara, living space consisted, essentially, of a single room, so that there wasn't even the risky possibility of sneaking out of the compartment while Munn was engaged elsewhere. She waited frantically for the sounds of sleep to arise. If only she knew whether he snored. At least she knew where the bunk was and she could recognize the rolling protest of one when she heard it. There was a long breath and then a yawn. She waited through a gathering silence, punctuated by the bunk's soft protest against a changed position or a shifted leg. The door of the luggage compartment opened easily at the pressure of her finger, and her craning neck? There was a definite human sound that broke off sharply. Arcadia solidified. Silence! Still silence! She tried to poke her eyes outside the door without moving her head and failed. The head followed the eyes. Homir Munn was awake, of course ?reading in bed, bathed in the soft, unspreading bed light, staring into the darkness with wide eyes, and groping one hand stealthily under the pillow. Arcadia's head moved sharply back of itself. Then, the light went out entirely and Munn's voice said with shaky sharpness, "I've got a blaster, and I'm shooting, by the Galaxy? And Arcadia wailed, "It's only me. Don't shoot." Remarkable what a fragile flower romance is. A gun with a nervous operator behind it can spoil the whole thing. The light was back on ?all over the ship ?and Munn was sitting up in bed. The somewhat grizzled hair on his thin chest and the sparse one-day growth on his chin lent him an entirely fallacious appearance of disreputability. Arcadia stepped out, yanking at her metallene jacket which was supposed to be guaranteed wrinkleproof. After a wild moment in which he almost jumped out of bed, but remembered, and instead yanked the sheet up to his shoulders, Munn gargled, "W ... wha ... what? He was completely incomprehensible. Arcadia said meekly, "Would you excuse me for a minute? I've got to wash my hands." She knew the geography of the vessel, and slipped away quickly. When she returned, with her courage oozing back, Homir Munn was standing before her with a faded bathrobe on the outside and a brilliant fury on the inside. "What the black holes of Space are you d ... doing aboard this ship? H ... how did you get on here? What do you th ... think I'm supposed to do with you? What's going on here?" He might have asked questions indefinitely, but Arcadia interrupted sweetly, "I just wanted to come along, Uncle Homir." "Why? I'm not going anywhere?" "You're going to Kalgan for information about the Second Foundation." And Munn let out a wild howl and collapsed completely. For one horrified moment, Arcadia thought he would have hysterics or beat his head against the wall. He was still holding the blaster and her stomach grew ice-cold as she watched it. "Watch out?Take it easy? was all she could think of to say. But he struggled back to relative normality and threw the blaster on to the bunk with a force that should have set it off and blown a hole through the ship's hull. "How did you get on?" he asked slowly, as though gripping each word with his teeth very carefully to prevent it from trembling before letting it out. "It was easy. I just came into the hangar with my suitcase, and said, 'Mr. Munn's baggage!' and the man in charge just waved his thumb without even looking up." "I'll have to take you back, you know," said Homir, and there was a sudden wild glee within him at the thought. By Space, this wasn't his fault. "You can't," said Arcadia, calmly, "it would attract attention." "What?" "You know. The whole purpose of your going to Kalgan was because it was natural for you to go and ask for permission to look into the Mule's records. And you've got to be so natural that you're to attract no attention at all. If you go back with a girl stowaway, it might even get into the tele-news reports." "Where did you g ... get those notions about Kalgan? These ... uh ... childish? He was far too flippant for conviction, of course, even to one who knew less than did Arcadia. "I heard," she couldn't avoid pride completely, "with a sound-recorder. I know all about it ?so you've got to let me come along." "What about your father?" He played a quick trump. "For all he knows, you're kidnapped ... dead." "I left a note," she said, overtrumping, "and he probably knows he mustn't make a fuss, or anything. You'll probably get a space-gram from him." To Munn the only explanation was sorcery, because the receiving signal sounded wildly two seconds after she finished. She said: "That's my father, I bet," and it was. The message wasn't long and it was addressed to Arcadia. It said: "Thank you for your lovely present, which I'm sure you put to good use. Have a good time." "You see," she said, "that's instructions." Homir grew used to her. After a while, he was glad she was there. Eventually, he wondered how he would have made it without her. She prattIed! She was excited! Most of all, she was completely unconcerned. She knew the Second Foundation was the enemy, yet it didn't bother her. She knew that on Kalgan, he was to deal with a hostile officialdom, but she could hardly wait. Maybe it came of being fourteen. At any rate, the week-long trip now meant conversation rather than introspection. To be sure, it wasn't a very enlightening conversation, since it concerned, almost entirely, the girl's notions on the subject of how best to treat the Lord of Kalgan. Amusing and nonsensical, and yet delivered with weighty deliberation. Homir found himself actually capable of smiling as he listened and wondered out of just which gem of historical fiction she got her twisted notion of the great universe. It was the evening before the last jump. Kalgan was a bright star in the scarcely-twinkling emptiness of the outer reaches of the Galaxy. The ship's telescope made it a sparkling blob of barely-perceptible diameter. Arcadia sat cross-legged in the good chair. She was wearing a pair of slacks and a none-too-roomy shirt that belonged to Homir. Her own more feminine wardrobe had been washed and ironed for the landing. She said, "I'm going to write historical novels, you know." She was quite happy about the trip. Uncle Homir didn't the least mind listening to her and it made conversation so much more pleasant when you could talk to a really intelligent person who was serious about what you said. She continued: "I've read books and books about all the great men of Foundation history. You know, like Seldon, Hardin, Mallow, Devers and all the rest. I've even read most of what you've written about the Mule, except that it isn't much fun to read those parts where the Foundation loses. Wouldn't you rather read a history where they skipped the silly, tragic parts?" "Yes, I would," Munn assured her, gravely. "But it wouldn't be a fair history, would it, Arkady? You'd never get academic respect, unless you give the whole story." "Oh, poof. Who cares about academic respect?" She found him delightful. He hadn't missed calling her Arkady for days. "My novels are going to be interesting and are going to sell and be famous. What's the use of writing books unless you sell them and become well-known? I don't want just some old professors to know me. It's got to be everybody." Her eyes darkened with pleasure at the thought and she wriggled into a more comfortable position. "In fact, as soon as I can get father to let me, I'm going to visit Trantor, so's I can get background material on the First Empire, you know. I was born on Trantor; did you know that?" He did, but he said, "You were?" and put just the right amount of amazement into his voice. He was rewarded with something between a beam and a simper. "Uh-huh. My grandmother ... you know, Bayta Darell, you've heard of her ... was on Trantor once with my grandfather. In fact, that's where they stopped the Mule, when all the Galaxy was at his feet; and my father and mother went there also when they were first married. I was born there. I even lived there till mother died, only I was just three then, and I don't remember much about it. Were you ever on Trantor, Uncle Homir?" "No, can't say I was." He leaned back against the cold bulkhead and listened idly. Kalgan was very close, and he felt his uneasiness flooding back. "Isn't it just the most romantic world? My father says that under Stannel V, it had more people than any ten worlds nowadays. He says it was just one big world of metals ?one big city ?that was the capital of all the Galaxy. He's shown me pictures that he took on Trantor. It's all in ruins now, but it's still stupendous. I'd just love to see it again. In fact ... Homir!" "Yes?" "Why don't we go there, when we're finished with Kalgan?" Some of the fright hurtled back into his face. "What? Now don't start on that. This is business, not pleasure. Remember that." "But it is business" she squeaked. "There might be incredible amounts of information on Trantor, don't you think so?* "No, I don't He scrambled to his feet "Now untangle yourself from the computer. We've got to make the last jump, and then you turn in." One good thing about landing, anyway; he was about fed up with trying to sleep on an overcoat on the metal floor. The calculations were not difficult. The "Space Route Handbook" was quite explicit on the Foundation-Kalgan route. There was the momentary twitch of the timeless passage through hyperspace and the final light-year dropped away. The sun of Kalgan was a sun now ?large, bright, and yellow-white; invisible behind the portholes that had automatically closed on the sun-lit side. Kalgan was only a night's sleep away. 第五章 偷渡客   还有一个月多一点,夏天才算真正开始,不过侯密尔•孟恩差不多已经做好行前准备。他写好了这个会计年度的年终报告;仔细考核了政府派来的代理馆员,确定他能够胜任这个并不简单的工作——去年那个人实在太差劲了;然后又将他的单人太空游艇“单海号”,从密封了近一年的船库中拖出来。他这艘太空船的古怪番号,是根据二十年前一件神秘而敏感的事件命名的。 当他离开端点星的时候,心中充满了抑郁与不满的情绪。没有任何人到太空航站为他送行——这是很自然的事情,因为过去也从来没有过。其实他也很明白,必须让这趟旅行看起来毫无异状,但仍不免感到浑身不自在,而且肚子里还冒出一股无名火。他——侯密尔•孟恩,冒着杀头的危险,正在从事一件荒谬绝伦的任务,却连一个同伴也没有! 至少,他当时是那么想的。 可是因为他料错了,所以第二天在“单海号”上,出现了一场混乱的局面。与此同时,达瑞尔博士位于郊区的家中,也同样起了一阵不大不小的骚动。 根据时间顺序,达瑞尔博士家中的混乱首先爆发。导火线是家里的女佣波莉,她早就度完了一个月的假期,重新回到工作岗位。现在,她突然慌慌张张地从楼梯飞奔而下,还一面气急败坏地大叫大嚷。 她一口气冲到博士面前,想要报告她的发现。结果比手画脚了老半天,却硬是挤不出半句话来,最后只能把一张纸和一个方形物体递给他。 达瑞尔博士只好把东西接过来,然后问道:“怎么回事,波莉?” “她走了,博士。” “谁走了?” “艾嘉蒂娅!” “你说她‘走了’是什么意思?走到哪里去?你究竟在说什么?” 波莉急得直跺脚:“我不知道,她就是不见了,还有一个手提箱和几件衣服也跟着不见了。她只留下了这封信,你别光站在那里,为什么不看看信呢?噢,你们男人喔!” 达瑞尔博士耸耸肩,然后便打开了信封。信的内容并不长,除了那个笨拙的签名“艾卡蒂”之外,全都是优雅娟秀的字体,显然是那台听写机列印出来的。 亲爱的爸爸: 我不敢当面向您告别,那样我会太难过,也许会像个小女孩一样哭起来,让您感到我不争气。所以我决定写这封信告诉您,虽然我将和侯密尔叔叔度过一个快乐无比的暑假,可是我将非常想念您。我会好好照顾自己,并且会尽快回家。此外,我留给您一样我自己的东西,您现在就可以打开来看看。 挚爱您的女儿艾卡蒂 他把这封信反复看了好几遍,脸上的表情显得越来越和缓。最后,他用僵硬的口气问道:“你看过这封信,波莉?” 波莉立刻为自己辩护道:“这件事情你绝对不能怪我,博士。信封外面明明写着‘波莉’,我根本不知道里面竟然是给你的信。我可不是那种喜欢刺探隐私的人,博士,过去这么多年以来……” 达瑞尔举起一只手,做了一个请她稍安勿躁的手势,再说:“很好,波莉,这一点并不重要。我只是想确定一下,你已经了解到发生了什么事。” 他心念电转——叫她忘掉这件事是绝对没有用的,他们所面对的那些敌人,字典里面根本没有“忘”这个字。而如果给她任何忠告,却会让事情显得更为严重,这足以造成反效果。 因此他故作轻松地说:“她是一个心思古怪的小女孩,你也知道,她的想法非常天真浪漫。自从我们决定让她在暑假做一次太空旅行之后,她就一直兴奋得不得了。” “可是为什么没一个人告诉我这档子事?” “这是在你休假那段时间安排的,后来我们忘记说了,事情就是这么简单。” 波莉原先的激动情绪,此时全部凝聚成一股凶猛的怒气。她回嘴道:“简单,是不是?可怜的小姑娘只带了一个手提箱,里面没有一件像样的衣裳,又是自己一个人去的。她要去多久呢?” “这点你大可放心,波莉,太空船上已经为她准备了足够的衣物。请你这就去找安索先生,告诉他说我想见他好吗?哦,等一下——这是不是艾嘉蒂娅留给我的东西?”他翻来覆去端详着手中那个方形物体。 波莉猛摇着头:“我保证我不知道,我只能说,那封信就是放在这个东西上面——竟然说忘了告诉我,真是的,如果孩子的妈还活着……” 达瑞尔挥手要她离去:“请你去把安索先生找来。” 对于这个突如其来的变化,安索的看法与艾嘉蒂娅的父亲完全不同。他的反应极为强烈,说话的时候捏紧了拳头,还拼命扯着头发,后来又露出了愁眉苦脸的表情。“老天啊,你到底还在等什么?我们两个坐在这里等些什么?赶紧用视讯电话联络太空航站,让他们立刻通知‘单海号’。” “别激动,裴礼斯,别忘了她是我的女儿。” “但是银河可不是你们家的。” “冷静一点,裴礼斯。她是一个聪明的女孩,这个行动她曾仔仔细细计划过。趁着事情才刚发生,我们最好先揣摩一下她的想法,你知不知道这是什么东西?” “不知道,这东西是什么又有什么关系?” “因为这是一个集音器。” “这玩意?” “这是手工做的,不过仍然管用,我刚才测试过了。你难道还看不出来吗?她用这个方法告诉我们,当我们在讨论那个计划的时候,她其实也等于就在现场。她知道侯密尔•孟恩要去哪里,也知道他真正的目的,而她认为跟他一道去,会是一次非常惊险刺激的经验。” “噢,老天啊,”年轻人发出了呻吟,“又有一个心灵,将要成为第二基地的猎物。” “话不能这么说,第二基地应该没有理由怀疑一个十四岁的女孩——除非我们轻举妄动,让他们把注意力转移到她身上。比如说,为了要把她追回来,就立刻下令召回那艘太空船。你难道忘记我们的对手是什么人吗?我们的意图多么容易被发现?而一旦被发现之后,我们除了坐以待毙之外,还能够怎么样呢?” “可是我们不能把命运托付给一个疯狂的小孩子。” “她可一点都不疯狂,而我们也毫无选择。其实她根本不需要写那封信,不过她还是写了,就是不想让我们以为她是无缘无故失踪,不希望我们向警方求助。她在信中暗示,要我们对这件事情另做解释,看成是孟恩带着老友的女儿去度假,而这又有何不可呢?他与我结识快二十年了,艾嘉蒂娅三岁的时候,我将她从川陀带回来,他就一直看着她长大。这是再自然不过的事,而且事实上,还应该可以减少他人的疑心。因为真正的间谍,是不会带着一个十四岁的侄女到处乱跑的。” “好的,可是当孟恩发现她的时候,他又会怎么办呢?” 达瑞尔博士扬了一下眉毛:“我不知道——但是我相信她自有办法应付。” 不过到了晚上,这个家突然显得分外冷清。达瑞尔博士发现,当他那个疯狂的女儿有小命不保之虞时,银河的命运似乎变得一点都不重要了。 而在“单海号”上发生的骚动,虽然牵涉的人比较少,可是紧张惊险的程度却大有过之。 艾嘉蒂娅一直躲在行李舱中。她发现在刚开始的时候,还能够依靠经验应付各种状况,可是接下来的发展却令她马上变得手足无措。 说得详细些,在最初的加速过程中,她始终能够保持镇定;而在进行第一次超空间跃迁时,她虽然感到有些恶心想吐,却仍然可以勉力应付。她以前曾经有过跃迁的经验,体验过这些难受的感觉,因此懂得如何严阵以待。此外,她知道行李舱中也有空调系统,甚至还有壁光照明设备——不过她并未将壁光开启,因为她潜意识觉得那样太不浪漫。她让自己处身于黑暗中(这才是阴谋分子应有的行径),同时她尽量屏住气息,倾听着侯密尔•孟恩身边发出的各种噪音。 那些都是很普通的噪音,一个男人独处时一定会发出类似的声响。包括鞋子磨蹭地板的声音,衣服与金属物体的摩擦声,椅垫被体重挤压出的哀号,按动操纵装置的尖锐响声,还有手掌轻拍光电管的噼啪声等等。 后来,艾嘉蒂娅终于因为经验不足而碰到了问题。不论是在胶卷书或超视影片中,偷渡者似乎都有本事藏得谁也无法发现。当然,总会有一些意外发生,比如说不小心将什么东西碰倒、掉在地板上发出巨响,或者是忍不住要打喷嚏……超视影片里头一定有类似的情节,观众也都视为理所当然。这些她都了然于胸,所以处处都很小心。她也料到自己会饿、会渴,所以预先从食品舱中拿了好些罐头。然而,小说、影片不可能将实际问题面面顾到,艾嘉蒂娅渐渐明白了一件事实——即使她的运气再好,准备得再周全,也绝不能在这个小舱中躲藏太久,这是当初打死她也不会相信的事情。 而在“单海号”这种单人太空游艇中,活动的空间算来算去也只有一间舱房,所以她连偷偷溜到别处的机会都没有,因为孟恩根本不会离开那里。 她拼命耐着性子等待,希望能等到一些表示孟恩已经睡着的声音。如果自己能晓得他是否会打鼾,那该有多好。不过她至少知道睡床的位置,如果那里传出了翻身的声音,自己应该可以分辨得出来。不知道过了多久,总算传来一阵深呼吸,然后是一个呵欠声。艾嘉蒂娅继续耐心等着。万籁俱寂中,只有睡床偶尔发出一些声响,显示床上的人换了一个姿势,或者抬起一条腿。 她终于鼓起勇气,轻轻推开行李舱的门,正准备探头出去…… 原来明明听到的声音,却在这瞬间戛然而止。 艾嘉蒂娅吓得全身僵硬。四周悄无声息,一片死寂! 她想学卡通人物那样,将眼睛突出门外、让头留在舱内,不过没办到;她的头不由自主地跟着眼睛一起伸了出去。 侯密尔•孟恩当然还没有睡——他刚才正躺在床上,就着床头灯看书。现在,他全身笼罩在柔和而不会扩散的光芒中,睁大眼睛向暗处凝视,同时一只手偷偷伸到枕头底下。 艾嘉蒂娅想也没想,就赶紧把头缩了回来。外面的灯光登时全部熄灭,然后孟恩发出了尖锐而颤抖的声音:“我握着一把核铳,银河在上,我要发射了——” 艾嘉蒂娅立刻哭喊道:“是我,不要射!” 浪漫的幻想真是太容易破灭了,一个神经过敏的人手中的一把核铳,就足以摧毁一切的一切。 整个舱内随即大放光明,艾嘉蒂娅看见孟恩端坐在床上,单薄的胸膛露出有些斑白的胸毛,脸上的胡子已经一整天没刮,使他看起来真像一名逃犯。 艾嘉蒂娅走了出来,用力拉了拉具有金属光泽的外衣。其实那是多此一举,因为这种外衣保证不会起皱。 孟恩感到诧异无比,差点就要从床上跳下来。不过他好像突然想到什么,不但没有跳下来,还赶紧把床单拉到肩膀的高度,再用模糊不清的声音问道:“怎……么……怎么……” 他完全一头雾水。 艾嘉蒂娅温顺地说:“对不起,失陪一下好吗?我得先去洗洗手。”她知道这艘太空船的结构,说完就一溜烟不见了。 当她走回来的时候,勇气也跟着一道回来了。侯密尔•孟恩已经穿上一件褪了色的睡袍,站在她的面前,一肚子的怒气就待发作。 “你究竟在搞什么……你在这艘太空船上做什么?你又是怎……怎么上来的?你想要……要我拿你怎么办?这到底是怎么回事?” 他的问题可以一直不断问下去,艾嘉蒂娅却以温柔的语气打断了他的话:“我只是想跟你一起去,侯密尔叔叔。” “为什么?我哪里也不去啊。” “你准备到卡尔根,去搜集有关第二基地的情报。” 孟恩发出一声狂嚎,整个人随即完全崩溃。艾嘉蒂娅猛吓一跳,以为他会陷入歇斯底里,或者会用头去撞墙——他手里可还握着手铳呢!她看到那柄威力强大的武器,胃部就不禁冒出一股寒气。 “小心——冷静一点——”她一时之间也只能想到这两句话。 还好他很快就勉强恢复了正常。他使劲将核铳丢到床上,险些令那柄强力的武器走火,将船体轰出一个大窟窿来。 “你是怎么上来的?”他这句话说得很慢,好像每个字都用牙齿仔细咬过,免得这些字眼在空气中打颤。 “那还不容易,我提着手提箱走进船库,然后说:‘孟恩先生的行李!’那个管理员连头也没抬,就挥挥手让我过去啦。” “你知道,我必须送你回去。”侯密尔说到这里,心中突然涌现一阵狂喜——银河在上,这可不是他的错。 “你不能那样做,”艾嘉蒂娅以冷静的口吻说,“那会使人起疑的。” “什么?” “你当然知道。你这次会到卡尔根去,乃是因为你是最佳人选。对你而言,去卡尔根要求查阅有关骡的资料,是一件非常自然的行动。所以你的一举一动都要表现得很自然,不可以让任何人起疑。如果你半途折回,把一个偷渡的女孩子送回去,也许连超视新闻都会报导这件事情。” “关于卡尔根的事,你是从哪里听……听来的?这……啊……实在是幼稚的想法……”当然,他这些话根本谁也骗不了,即使知道得比艾嘉蒂娅少的人,也不可能相信他说的这几句话。 “我自己听到的,”她的骄傲溢于言表,“利用一台集音器做到的。你们的计划我知道得一清二楚,所以你一定要让我一起去。” “你爸爸又会怎么想呢?”他打出最后一张王牌,“他会以为你被绑架了……死了。” “我留了一封短信。”她回敬了一张更大的王牌,“他或许知道绝对不能大惊小怪,你可能很快就会收到他的太空电报。” 她话才说完,刚过两秒钟,收报讯号就嘎然作响。对于孟恩而言,似乎只有魔法才能解释这一切。 艾嘉蒂娅说:“那一定是我父亲的电报,我敢打赌。”她果然说对了。 电文是写给艾嘉蒂娅的,内容只有短短几句话:“谢谢你送我那个可爱的礼物,相信你一定曾经善加利用,祝假期愉快。” “你看,”她说:“这就是他的嘱咐。” 侯密尔很快就习惯了她的存在,后来更是很高兴有她作伴。最后,他甚至感到如果没有她的话,自己一个人根本无法撑完全程。她喜欢胡言乱语!她显得兴奋异常!而最重要的是,她一点都不害怕。她明明知道正在与第二基地为敌,可是却根本毫不在乎;她也晓得到了卡尔根之后,他得面对一群充满敌意的官僚,然而她就是迫不及待。也许只是因为她才十四岁。 无论如何,对于孟恩而言,这一周的旅程终于有了聊天的对象,不再需要整天自言自语。其实,他们的谈话并没有什么建设性的内容,几乎都是这个女孩在发表高见,讲述她心目中对付卡尔根统领的妙计。简直是既好笑又荒唐,可是她却煞有介事,说得认真无比。 侯密尔听了她的这些高论,忍不住开怀大笑。他觉得很奇怪——她这些古怪的观点,究竟是从哪一本精彩的历史小说中看来的? 在准备做最后一次跃迁的那个晚上,从银河外缘稀疏的群星间,已经可以看见卡尔根的太阳。透过太空船上的望远镜看去,那颗恒星变作一个闪烁的小斑点。 现在艾嘉蒂娅正翘着一条腿,坐在那张惟一的椅子上。她穿着侯密尔的家常裤和衬衫,却也不显得如何松松垮垮。她自己的衣服都已经洗净熨平了,等着登陆之后再穿。 “你知道吗?我将来准备要写历史小说。”她非常喜欢这趟旅行,侯密尔叔叔总是用心聆听她的谈话。能跟一个真正有智慧的人交谈,而且对方又认真地聆听你的高谈阔论,实在是人生一大乐事。 她继续说道:“我读了一本又一本的基地历史伟人传记,你知道的,例如谢顿、哈定、马洛、迪伐斯,还有其他所有的英雄。你写的有关骡的文章,大多数我也都读过。不过,基地被打败的那段历史看了实在令人不舒服,如果把那些愚蠢、悲惨的部分删掉,历史不是会更好看吗?” “对,是会更好看。”然后孟恩以严肃的口吻说,“不过,那样就不是忠实的历史了,你说对不对,艾卡蒂?除非你能完整地将史实呈现出来,否则是不会获得任何学术地位的。” “喔,呸,谁在乎什么学术地位?”她感觉他实在可爱,这几天以来,他都没有忘记改口叫她“艾卡蒂”。她又说,“我的小说要写得好看,要成为畅销名著,要让我声名大噪。如果你写的书卖不出去,不能因此出名,那么写作还有什么意义呢?我可不要光让几个老教授认识我,我一定要变得家喻户晓。” 这个想法令她兴奋得连眼珠子都变了颜色。她挪动了一下身子,换了一个更舒服的姿势,继续说道:“事实上,一旦得到爸爸的允许,我就要立刻到川陀去。你可知道,我要到那里去搜集第一帝国的背景资料。我就是在川陀出生的,这你知道吗?” 他当然知道,不过却故意说:“真的吗?”并且在声音中加入了适度的惊奇。 艾嘉蒂娅回报他一个介于真笑与假笑之间的表情,又说:“喔——我奶奶……你知道,就是贝妲•达瑞尔,你一定听说过她……她曾经跟我爷爷在川陀住过一段时间。事实上,当整个银河都被骡踩在脚下时,他们就是在那里阻止了骡的攻势。而我爸爸、妈妈结婚之后,也曾经回过川陀,在那里生下了我。然后我就一直住在那儿,直到妈妈去世为止,我当时才三岁,所以没有什么印象。你去过川陀吗,侯密尔叔叔?” “没有,不能算有。”他靠着冰冷的舱壁,随口回答了一句。卡尔根已经近在眼前,他感觉不安的情绪又卷土重来了。 “它算不算是最传奇的世界?爸爸告诉我说,在斯达涅尔五世在位时期,上面的人口超过了如今十个世界的总和。他还说那是一个被金属覆盖的世界,一个单一的大都会,是整个银河的首都。他给我看过在川陀照的相片,现在到处都是废墟,不过看起来仍旧壮观无比。我多么希望能再到那里去。其实啊……侯密尔!” “啊?” “等卡尔根的事情办完之后,干脆我们就去川陀好不好?” 孟恩的脸上又露出了明显的惧色,“什么?你不要一波未平,一波又起。我们是在办正事,不是观光旅游,这点你可不要忘记。” “但这也是正事呀,”她尖声抗议:“川陀也许会有数不清的重要资料,你相不相信?” “不,我不相信。”他爬了起来,站在她面前说,“现在请你离电脑远一点,我们马上要进行最后一次跃迁,然后你就该上床了。”无论如何,他想,降落之后总有一件事情将会改善,他已经恨透了在金属地板上裹着外套睡觉。 跃迁的计算并不困难,在《太空航道手册》上,基地至卡尔根的路线记述得十分详细。当太空游艇进入超空间的时候,他们照例感到一瞬间的抽搐,而在下一瞬间,最后一光年的距离便消失了。 卡尔根的太阳现在看来跟普通的太阳一样——巨大、光亮、辐射出乳白色的光芒。不过在太空游艇中的两个人却无法直接看见,因为“日照”那一侧的舷窗早已自动关闭。 一觉醒来之后,就能到达卡尔根了。 Chapter 6 Lord Of all the worlds of the Galaxy, Kalgan undoubtedly had the most unique history. That of the planet Terminus, for instance, was that of an almost uninterrupted rise. That of Trantor, once capital of the Galaxy, was that of an almost uninterrupted fall. But Kalgan? Kalgan first gained fame as the pleasure world of the Galaxy two centuries before the birth of Hari Seldon. It was a pleasure world in the sense that it made an industry ?and an immensely profitable one, at that ?out of amusement. And it was a stable industry. It was the most stable industry in the Galaxy. When all the Galaxy perished as a civilization, little by little, scarcely a feather's weight of catastrophe fell upon Kalgan. No matter how the economy and sociology of the neighboring sectors of the Galaxy changed, there was always an elite; and it is always the characteristic of an elite that it possesses leisure as the great reward of its elite-hood. Kalgan was at the service, therefore, successively ?and successfully ?of the effete and perfumed dandies of the Imperial Court with their sparkling and libidinous ladies; of the rough and raucous warlords who ruled in iron the worlds they had gained in blood, with their unbridled and lascivious wenches; of the plump and luxurious businessmen of the Foundation, with their lush and flagitious mistresses. It was quite undiscriminating, since they all had money. And since Kalgan serviced all and barred none; since its commodity was in unfailing demand; since it had the wisdom to interfere in no world's politics, to stand on no one's legitimacy, it prospered when nothing else did, and remained fat when all grew thin. That is, until the Mule. Then, somehow, it fell, too, before a conqueror who was impervious to amusement, or to anything but conquest. To him all planets were alike, even Kalgan. So for a decade, Kalgan found itself in the strange role of Galactic metropolis; mistress of the greatest Empire since the end of the Galactic Empire itself. And then, with the death of the Mule, as sudden as the zoom, came the drop. The Foundation broke away. With it and after it, much of the rest of the Mule's dominions. Fifty years later there was left only the bewildering memory of that short space of power, like an opium dream. Kalgan never quite recovered. It could never return to the unconcerned pleasure world it had been, for the spell of power never quite releases its bold. It lived instead under a succession of men whom the Foundation called the Lords of Kalgan, but who styled themselves First Citizen of the Galaxy, in imitation of the Mule's only title, and who maintained the fiction that they were conquerors too. The current Lord of Kalgan had held that position for five months. He had gained it originally by virtue of his position at the head of the Kalganian navy, and through a lamentable lack of caution on the part of the previous lord. Yet no one on Kalgan was quite stupid enough to go into the question of legitimacy too long or too closely. These things happened, and are best accepted. Yet that sort of survival of the fittest in addition to putting a premium on bloodiness and evil, occasionally allowed capability to come to the fore as well. Lord Stettin was competent enough and not easy to manage. Not easy for his eminence, the First Minister, who, with fine impartiality, had served the last lord as well as the present; and who would, if he lived long enough, serve the next as honestly. Nor easy for the Lady Callia, who was Stettin's more than friend, yet less than wife. In Lord Stettin's private apartments the three were alone that evening. The First Citizen, bulky and glistening in the admiral's uniform that he affected, scowled from out the unupholstered chair in which he sat as stiffly as the plastic of which it was composed. His First Minister Lev Meirus, faced him with a far-off unconcern, his long, nervous fingers stroking absently and rhythmically the deep line that curved from hooked nose along gaunt and sunken cheek to the point, nearly, of the gray-bearded chin. The Lady Callia disposed of herself gracefully on the deeply furred covering of a foamite couch, her full lips trembling a bit in an unheeded pout. "Sir," said Meirus ?it was the only title adhering to a lord who was styled only First Citizen, "you lack a certain view of the continuity of history. Your own life, with its tremendous revolutions, leads you to think of the course of civilization as something equally amenable to sudden change. But it is not." "The Mule showed otherwise." "But who can follow in his footsteps. He was more than man, remember. And be, too, was not entirely successful." "Poochie," whimpered the Lady Callia, suddenly, and then shrank into herself at the furious gesture from the First Citizen. Lord Stettin said, harshly, "Do not interrupt, Callia. Meirus, I am tired of inaction. My predecessor spent his life polishing the navy into a finely-turned instrument that has not its equal in the Galaxy. And he died with the magnificent machine lying idle. Am I to continue that? I, an Admiral of the Navy? "How long before the machine rusts? At present, it is a drain on the Treasury and returns nothing. Its officers long for dominion, its men for loot. All Kalgan desires the return of Empire and glory. Are you capable of understanding that?" "These are but words that you use, but I grasp your meaning. Dominion, loot, glory ?pleasant when they are obtained, but the process of obtaining them is often risky and always unpleasant. The first fine flush may not last. And in all history, it has never been wise to attack the Foundation. Even the Mule would have been wiser to refrain? There were tears in the Lady Callia's blue, empty eyes. Of late, Poochie scarcely saw her, and now, when he had promised the evening to her, this horrible, thin, gray man, who always looked through her rather than at her, had forced his way in. And Poochie let him. She dared not say anything; was frightened even of the sob that forced its way out. But Stettin was speaking now in the voice she hated, hard and Impatient. He was saying: "You're a slave to the far past. The Foundation is greater in volume and population, but they are loosely knit and will fall apart at a blow. What holds them together these days is merely inertia; an inertia I am strong enough to smash. You are hypnotized by the old days when only the Foundation had atomic power. They were able to dodge the last hammer blows of the dying Empire and then faced only the unbrained anarchy of the warlords who would counter the Foundation's atomic vessels only with hulks and relics. "But the Mule, my dear Meirus, has changed that. He spread the knowledge, that the Foundation had hoarded to itself, through half the Galaxy and the monopoly in science is gone forever. We can match them." "And the Second Foundation?" questioned Meirus, coolly. "And the Second Foundation?" repeated Stettin as coolly. "Do you know its intentions? It took ten years to stop the Mule, if, indeed, it was the factor, which some doubt. Are you unaware that a good many of the Foundation's psychologists and sociologists are of the opinion that the Seldon Plan has been completely disrupted since the days of the Mule? If the Plan has gone, then a vacuum exists which I may fill as well as the next man." "Our knowledge of these matters is not great enough to warrant the gamble." "Our knowledge, perhaps, but we have a Foundation visitor on the planet. Did you know that? A Homir Munn ?who, I understand, has written articles on the Mule, and has expressed exactly that opinion, that the Seldon Plan no longer exists." The First Minister nodded, "I have heard of him, or at least of his writings. What does he desire?" "He asks permission to enter the Mule's palace." "Indeed? It would be wise to refuse. It is never advisable to disturb the superstitions with which a planet is held." "I will consider that ?and we will speak again." Meirus bowed himself out. Lady Callia said tearfully, "Are you angry with me, Poochie?" Stettin turned on her savagely. "Have I not told you before never to call me by that ridiculous name in the presence of others?" "You used to like it." "Well, I don't any more, and it is not to happen again." He stared at her darkly. It was a mystery to him that he tolerated her these days. She was a soft, empty-headed thing, comfortable to the touch, with a pliable affection that was a convenient facet to a hard life. Yet, even that affection was becoming wearisome. She dreamed of marriage, of being First Lady. Ridiculous! She was all very well when he had been an admiral only ?but now as First Citizen and future conqueror, he needed more. He needed heirs who could unite his future dominions, something the Mule had never had, which was why his Empire did not survive his strange nonhuman life. He, Stettin, needed someone of the great historic families of the Foundation with whom he could fuse dynasties. He wondered testily why he did not rid himself of Callia now. It would be no trouble. She would whine a bit?He dismissed the thought. She had her points, occasionally. Callia was cheering up now. The influence of Graybeard was gone and her Poochie's granite face was softening now. She lifted herself in a single, fluid motion and melted toward him. "You're not going to scold me, are you?" "No." He patted her absently. "Now just sit quietly for a while, will you? I want to think." "About the man from the Foundation?" "Yes." "Poochie?" This was a pause. "What?" "Poochie, the man has a little girl with him, you said. Remember? Could I see her when she comes? I never? "Now what do you think I want him to bring his brat with him for? Is my audience room to be a grammar school? Enough of your nonsense, Callia." "But I抣l take care of her, Poochie. You won't even have to bother with her. It's just that I hardly ever see children, and you know how I love them." He looked at her sardonically. She never tired of this approach. She loved children; i.e. his children; i.e. his legitimate children; i.e. marriage. He laughed. "This particular little piece," he said, "is a great girl of fourteen or fifteen. She's probably as tall as you are." Callia looked crushed. "Well, could I, anyway? She could tell me about the Foundation? I've always wanted to go there, you know. My grandfather was a Foundation man. Won't you take me there, sometime, Poochie?" Stettin smiled at the thought. Perhaps he would, as conqueror. The good nature that the thought supplied him with made itself felt in his words, "I will, I will. And you can see the girl and talk Foundation to her all you want. But not near me, understand." "I won't bother you, honestly. I'll have her in my own rooms." She was happy again. It was not very often these days that she was allowed to have her way. She put her arms about his neck and after the slightest hesitation, she felt its tendons relax and the large head come softly down upon her shoulder. 第六章 统领   放眼银河之中所有世界,卡尔根的历史无疑是独一无二的。其他的行星,例如端点星,它的历史等于一个不断跃升的过程;而曾经是银河之都的川陀,则几乎不停地在走下坡路。然而卡尔根…… 哈里•谢顿诞生之前两个世纪,卡尔根首先以度假胜地闻名于全银河。它整个世界都投注于观光娱乐业——一种一本万利、稳赚不赔的行业。 而且,那也是一种稳当的行业,这句话可说是放诸银河皆准。当银河中所有的文明渐渐腐朽之时,卡尔根几乎一点也没有受到影响,根本未曾发生过任何变化。 不论邻近星区的经济、社会如何变动,上层社会总是存在的。而上层社会人士的特点之一,就是拥有足够的闲暇,这个事实本身就是一种特权。 因此,卡尔根曾先后为下列人士提供了最佳的服务——最先是帝国宫廷中文弱骄矜的大员,以及他们身边妖艳的姬妾;接着是那些以铁血手段征服与统治世界的粗暴军阀,以及他们所宠幸的荡妇淫娃;后来,又换成了脑满肠肥、生活豪奢的基地大亨,以及他们那些性技巧高超无比的情妇。 由于这些人士全都家财万贯,所以卡尔根对他们完全一视同仁。此外,卡尔根向来都是来者不拒,而且永远不愁没有生意上门;领导阶层又有足够的智慧,从不干涉其他世界的政治,也未曾觊觎过其他行星的领土。基于以上这些因素,卡尔根得以在动荡的银河中一枝独秀,始终能够保持富庶繁荣,在其他世界日渐萧条的岁月里,唯独卡尔根的生活水准越来越高。 骡的出现终于改写了卡尔根的历史。这位空前绝后的征服者,除了征战之外,对于其他一切全都无动于衷。因此,卡尔根也难逃陷落的命运。对于骡而言,所有的行星全都是一样的,当然卡尔根也绝不例外。 此后的十年间,卡尔根摇身一变,成了整个银河的首府——在银河帝国结束之后,首度兴起的另一个“帝国”便定都于此。 然后,随着骡的死亡,情况立即急转直下。基地首先脱离了骡的“帝国”,其他的世界继而纷纷独立。五十年之后,骡的功业完全烟消云散,只在历史上留下一页难解的记忆。暴起暴落的熏天权势,仿佛是鸦片诱发的一场幻梦。然而,卡尔根却一直未能完全恢复,它再也不是当年那个世外桃源,权力的魔咒始终没有真正解除。这些年来,卡尔根被一个接一个的强人所统治,基地将这些强人称为“卡尔根统领”,可是他们却都自称“银河第一公民”——这是骡在生前惟一的头衔。他们刻意沿用这个头衔,以便维持一个征服者的假相。 现任的卡尔根统领,上任才刚满五个月。这位统领原本是卡尔根星际舰队的统帅,他藉着这个职位的便利,再加上前任统领一时的疏忽大意,一举便谋得了统领的位置。不过在卡尔根所统治的领域,没有人会笨到对这种事情太过认真,大家都早已司空见惯,见怪而不怪了。 然而这种弱肉强食、适者生存的现象,除了会鼓励罪恶与流血之外,有时也真能让能者出头,取得领导者的地位。史铁亭统领便是如此的一位能者,而且他相当不好伺候。 甚至对尊贵的首相而言也不例外——那位首相是前任统领的遗老,对于两位统领一视同仁地鞠躬尽瘁。如果他活得够久的话,将来一定会继续为下任统领效忠。 而嘉丽贵妇也有相同的感觉——她与史铁亭并没有任何名分,只能说他们的关系介于朋友与夫妻之间。 这天傍晚,在史铁亭统领的私人寓所中,这三个人聚在一起,除此外没有其他人在场。第一公民的身材魁梧,穿着他心爱的舰队司令制服,显得光芒耀眼,令人不敢逼视。他坐在一张未铺椅套的塑质座椅上,表情严肃,眉头深锁,全身跟椅子一样动也不动。他的首相列夫•麦拉斯站在前面,心不在焉地面对着他,修长而神经质的手指不停地抚着老脸,从鹰勾鼻摸到瘦削的脸颊,再从脸颊摸到长着灰胡子的下巴,然后再回到鹰勾鼻上,如此反覆着。嘉丽贵妇则以优雅的姿势坐在铺着毛皮的长椅上,丰满的嘴唇微微噘起,还在轻轻地打颤。 “阁下,”麦拉斯终于开口——对于自称第一公民的统领,那是惟一的一种称呼。然后他说:“您对历史的一贯性认识不够,您个人一生经历了许多次重大的变化,导致您认为文明的发展同样不难骤然改变,然而事实并非如此。” “骡却为我们提出了反证。” “可是有谁能够效法他呢?他可是一个超人,这点您别忘了。而且即使是骡,也不能算是完全成功。” “卜吉——”嘉丽贵妇突然抽噎起来,但是第一公民做了一个凶狠的手势,吓得她不敢再出声。 史铁亭统领以严厉的口气说道:“嘉丽,不要打岔。麦拉斯,我受不了一直这样无所作为。前任统领穷毕生精力,将舰队训练成一支无敌于银河的武力,却未能活着看到它派上用场。我是不是也要步上他的后尘?我——一个舰队总司令?” 他继续说道:“你知道这支武力多么容易腐朽吗?目前,它已经成了国库的累赘,可是却无法有任何回报。军官们都渴望赢得封地,士兵们期待着攫取战利品,整个卡尔根都希望重建帝国的光荣,你有没有能力了解这一点?” “您说的这些,都只是表面的理由,”麦拉斯回答,“不过我可以了解您的意思。封地、战利品、光荣——能够得到当然令人兴奋无比,可是其间的过程却总是危险万分,而且充满了悲惨与痛苦。别忘了开战的狂劲是撑不了多久的。而且鉴于历史的教训,攻击基地绝对不是明智之举,即使是骡,也知道避免……” 嘉丽贵妇湛蓝而空洞的眼中漾着泪水。最近这些日子以来,卜吉已经很少来看她了,今晚他好不容易答应要陪她,没想到首相却硬闯了进来——这个可怕、精瘦的灰发老头,每次瞪着她的时候好像都能将她看穿——而卜吉竟然答应接见他。她不敢再说什么,生怕会忍不住哭出声来。 她实在很不喜欢史铁亭现在说话的声音,听起来强硬而急躁。他说:“你这个食古不化的学究,基地虽然领域广大、人口众多,可是他们却是一盘散沙,根本就不堪一击。这些年来,他们表面上的团结只是一种惯性,而我有足够的力量将这种惯性击溃。你是被基地当年的气势给唬住了,那时候他们是银河中惟一拥有核能的世界,侥幸躲过垂死帝国的最后一击之后,就只剩下各地拥兵自立的军阀与他们为敌。那些军阀个个是头脑简单之辈,拥有的战舰都是帝国时代的旧货,当然无法和基地的核动力星舰对抗。 “可是,我亲爱的麦拉斯,骡的出现使这一切完全改观。他将基地密藏的知识散播开来,让半个银河都知晓了这些秘密。基地垄断科学的日子已经一去不返,如今我们已足以和他们匹敌。” “可是还有第二基地呢?”麦拉斯冷泠地问了一句。 “可是还有第二基地呢?”史铁亭用同样的口气重复了一遍,再说,“你可知道他们的意图?他们花了五年的时间才阻止了骡——如果真的是他们做的,不过还有不少人怀疑这一点。你难道不晓得吗?基地的许多心理学家和社会学家,都一致认为自从骡出现之后,谢顿计划已经完全被粉碎了。如果这个计划不再存在,那么我就有可能填补这个真空,任何人都有这个资格。” “我们对于这方面的知识,不足以保证我们能赢得这场赌局。” “我们自己的知识可能不足,不过我们的行星上,刚好来了一位基地的访客,这件事你知不知道?那个人名叫侯密尔•孟恩——据我所知,他写过不少研究骡的文章。正和我刚才说的一样,他也认为谢顿计划早已不复存在。” 首相点点头,答道:“我也听说过这个人,至少知道他发表的文章。他到这里来想做什么?” “他想请求我们允许他进入骡殿。” “真的吗?我们最好还是拒绝。整个行星就是靠那些迷信维系着,避免触碰那些问题才是明智的做法。” “我会考虑考虑——然后我们再来讨论这个问题。” 于是麦拉斯便鞠躬告退。 此时嘉丽贵妇泪汪汪地说:“你在生我的气吗,卜吉?” 史铁亭猛然转过身来,对她吼道:“我难道没有告诉过你吗?当着别人的面,绝对不要叫我那个可笑的名字!” “你以前喜欢我这么叫的。” “好吧,可是我现在不喜欢了,以后绝对不准再犯这个错误。” 他气乎乎地瞪着她,想到自己竟然还能容忍这个女人,实在是一件不可思议的事。她是一个柔弱的绣花枕头,抚摸起来的感觉实在很不错;而她那温顺的感情,也可算是刻板生活的一种简单调剂。然而即使是那种感情,现在也已经令他感到厌倦——她竟然梦想着要嫁给他,想要成为第一夫人。 简直是荒唐! 当他还是舰队司令的时候,她的确是一个很称职的伴侣——可是现在他已经成为第一公民,而且眼看就要征服银河,像她这种女人当然不再适合。他需要几个血统高贵的子嗣,帮助他统治未来的领土。这点是骡从来无法做到的,也是骡的传奇生命终结之后,他的帝国便立刻瓦解的真正原因。他,史铁亭,需要一位基地的名门闺秀为后,两人携手共同建立一个朝代。 他一肚子不高兴地想到,为什么现在还没有把嘉丽给休掉?这样做根本不会有任何麻烦,当然,她一定会哭哭啼啼一阵子——可是他又迅速打消了这个念头,她偶尔也挺可爱的,即使只是偶尔而已。 嘉丽现在又展现了欢颜,因为那个灰胡子老头已经走远了,卜吉那张如花岗岩的脸孔也渐渐变得柔和。她盈盈起身,向他依偎过去。 “你不会再骂我了吧,是不是?” “不会的,”他心不在焉地轻抚着她,“现在安安静静地坐一会儿好吗?我要好好考虑一下。” “关于那个基地来的人吗?” “没错。” “卜吉?”她欲言又止。 “什么事?” “卜吉,那人还带了一个小女孩一起来,你告诉过我的,记不记得?她来的时候,我能不能见见她?我从来都没……” “你说,我为什么要让他把那个小鬼一块带来?我的会客厅是幼儿园吗?别再提这种荒谬的念头了,嘉丽。” “可是我会照顾她的,卜吉,根本不会让你烦心。只不过因为我难得看到小孩子,你也知道我有多么喜欢小孩。” 他用嘲讽的目光瞪着她——她对这一套从不感到厌倦。她喜欢小孩,意思就是说喜欢他的小孩,也就是说他的子嗣,说穿了就是希望嫁给他。想到这里,他突然笑了起来。 “你说的那个小东西,”他说:“其实是个十四五岁的大女孩,或许跟你差不多高了。” 嘉丽抱着最后一线希望说:“还是让我见一见好不好?她可以告诉我有关基地的一切。我的祖父就是基地人,你知道的,我一直都好想去那里看看。你能不能找个时间带我去,卜吉?” 史铁亭听到她这么讲,脸上不禁露出微笑——也许他真的会这么做,不过却是以征服者的身份前往。这个想法令他感到相当高兴,语气也就因此缓和许多:“我会的,我会的。你可以见见那个女孩,和她畅谈基地的事情,不过你们得离我远一点,懂不懂?” “我不会烦你的,我保证,我会把她带到自己的房间去。”嘉丽觉得好开心,最近这些日子,她很少能像今天这样称心如意。她用双臂搂住他的颈子,感觉他在轻微的犹豫之后,全身的肌肉松弛下来,把壮硕的脑袋轻轻靠向她的肩头。 Chapter 7 Lady Arcadia felt triumphant. How life had changed since Pelleas Anthor had stuck his silly face up against her window ?and all because she had the vision and courage to do what needed to be done. Here she was on Kalgan. She had been to the great Central Theater ?the largest in the Galaxy ?and seen in person some of the singing stars who were famous even in the distant Foundation. She had shopped all on her own along the Flowered Path, fashion center of the gayest world in Space. And she had made her own selections because Homir just didn't know anything about it at all. The saleswomen raised no objections at all to long, shiny dresses with those vertical sweeps that made her look so tall ?and Foundation money went a long, long way. Homir had given her a ten-credit bill and when she changed it to Kalganian "Kalganids," it made a terribly thick sheaf. She had even had her hair redone ?sort of half-short in back, with two glistening curls over each temple. And it was treated so that it looked goldier than ever; it just shone. But this, this was best of all. To be sure, the Palace of Lord Stettin wasn't as grand and lavish as the theaters, or as mysterious and historical as the old palace of the Mule ?of which, so far they had only glimpsed the lonely towers in their air flight across the planet ?but, imagine, a real Lord. She was rapt in the glory of it. And not only that. She was actually face to face with his Mistress. Arcadia capitalized the word in her mind, because she knew the role such women had played in history; knew their glamour and power. In fact, she had often thought of being an all-powerful and glittering creature, herself, but somehow mistresses weren't in fashion at the Foundation just then and besides, her father probably wouldn't let her, if it came to that. Of course, the Lady Callia didn't quite come up to Arcadia's notion of the part. For one thing, she was rather plump, and didn't look at all wicked and dangerous. just sort of faded and near-sighted. Her voice was high, too, instead of throaty, and? Callia said, "Would you like more tea, child?" "I'll have another cup, thank you, your grace," ?or was it your highness? Arcadia continued with a connoisseur's condescension, "Those are lovely pearls you are wearing, my lady." (On the whole, "my lady" seemed best.) "Oh? Do you think so?" Callia seemed vaguely pleased. She removed them and let them swing milkily to and fro. "Would you like them? You can have them, if you like." "Oh, my?You really mean? She found them in her hand, then, repelling them mournfully, she said, "Father wouldn't like it." "He wouldn't like the pearls? But they're quite nice pearls." "He wouldn't like my taking them, I mean. You're not supposed to take expensive presents from other people, he says." "You aren't? But ... I mean, this was a present to me from Poo ... from the First Citizen. Was that wrong, do you suppose?" Arcadia reddened. "I didn't mean--" But Callia had tired of the subject. She let the pearls slide to the ground and said, "You were going to tell me about the Foundation. Please do so right now." And Arcadia was suddenly at a loss. What does one say about a world dull to tears. To her, the Foundation was a suburban town, a comfortable house, the annoying necessities of education, the uninteresting eternities of a quiet life. She said, uncertainly, "It's just like you view in the book-films, I suppose." "Oh, do you view book-films? They give me such a headache when I try. But do you know I always love video stories about your Traders ?such big, savage men. It's always so exciting. Is your friend, Mr. Munn, one of them? He doesn't seem nearly savage enough. Most of the Traders had beards and big bass voices, and were so domineering with women ?don't you think so?" Arcadia smiled, glassily. "That's just part of history, my lady. I mean, when the Foundation was Young, the Traders were the pioneers pushing back the frontiers and bringing civilization to the rest of the Galaxy. We learned all about that in school. But that time has passed. We don't have Traders any more; just corporations and things." "Really? What a shame. Then what does Mr. Munn do? I mean, if he's not a Trader." "Uncle Homir's a librarian." Callia put a hand to her lips and tittered. "You mean he takes care of book-films. Oh, my! It seems like such a silly thing for a grown man to do." "He's a very good librarian, my lady. It is an occupation that is very highly regarded at the Foundation." She put down the little, iridescent teacup upon the milky-metaled table surface. Her hostess was all concern. "But my dear child. I'm sure I didn't mean to offend you. He must be a very intelligent man. I could see it in his eyes as soon as I looked at him. They were so ... so intelligent. And he must be brave, too, to want to see the Mule's palace." "Brave?" Arcadia's internal awareness twitched. This was what she was waiting for. Intrigue! Intrigue! With great indifference, she asked, staring idly at her thumbtip: "Why must one be brave to wish to see the Mule's palace?" "Didn't you know?" Her eyes were round, and her voice sank. "There's a curse on it. When he died, the Mule directed that no one ever enter it until the Empire of the Galaxy is established. Nobody on Kalgan would dare even to enter the grounds." Arcadia absorbed that. "But that's superstition? "Don't say that," Callia was distressed. "Poochie always says that. He says it's useful to say it isn't though, in order to maintain his hold over the people. But I notice he's never gone in himself. And neither did Thallos, who was First Citizen before Poochie." A thought struck her and she was all curiosity again: "But why does Mr. Munn want to see the Palace?" And it was here that Arcadia's careful plan could be put into action. She knew well from the books she had read that a ruler's mistress was the real power behind the throne, that she was the very well-spring of influence. Therefore, if Uncle Homir failed with Lord Stettin ?and she was sure he would ?she must retrieve that failure with Lady Callia. To be sure, Lady Callia was something of a puzzle. She didn't seem at all bright. But, well, all history proved? She said, "There's a reason, my lady ?but will you keep it in confidence?" "Cross my heart," said Callia, making the appropriate gesture on the soft, billowing whiteness of her breast. Arcadia's thoughts kept a sentence ahead of her words. "Uncle Homir is a great authority on the Mule, you know. He's written books and books about it, and he thinks that all of Galactic history has been changed since the Mule conquered the Foundation." "Oh, my." "He thinks the Seldon Plan? Callia clapped her hands. "I know about the Seldon Plan. The videos about the Traders were always all about the Seldon Plan. It was supposed to arrange to have the Foundation win all the time. Science had something to do with it, though I could never quite see how. I always get so restless when I have to listen to explanations. But you go right ahead, my dear. It's different when you explain. You make everything seem so clear." Arcadia continued, "Well, don't you see then that when the Foundation was defeated by the Mule, the Seldon Plan didn't work and it hasn't worked since. So who will form the Second Empire?" "The Second Empire?" "Yes, one must be formed some day, but how? That's the problem, you see. And there's the Second Foundation." "The Second Foundation?" She was quite completely lost. 'Yes, they're the planners of history that are following in the footsteps of Seldon. They stopped the Mule because he was premature, but now, they may be supporting Kalgan." "Why?" "Because Kalgan may now offer the best chance of being the nucleus for a new Empire." Dimly, Lady Callia seemed to grasp that. "You mean Poochie is going to make a new Empire." "We can't tell for sure. Uncle Homir thinks so, but hell have to see the Mule's records to find out." "It's all very complicated," said Lady Callia, doubtfully. Arcadia gave up. She had done her best. Lord Stettin was in a more-or-less savage humor. The session with the milksop from the Foundation had been quite unrewarding. It had been worse; it had been embarrassing. To be absolute ruler of twenty-seven worlds, master of the Galaxy's greatest military machine, owner of the universe's most vaulting ambition ?and left to argue nonsense with an antiquarian. Damnation! He was to violate the customs of Kalgan, was he? To allow the Mule's palace to be ransacked so that a fool could write another book? The cause of science! The sacredness of knowledge! Great Galaxy! Were these catchwords to be thrown in his face in all seriousness? Besides ?and his flesh prickled slightly ?there was the matter of the curse. He didn't believe in it; no intelligent man could. But if he was going to defy it, it would have to be for a better reason than any the fool had advanced. "What do you want?" he snapped, and Lady Callia cringed visibly in the doorway. "Are you busy?" "Yes. I am busy." "But there's nobody here, Poochie. Couldn't I even speak to you for a minute?" "Oh, Galaxy! What do you want? Now hurry." Her words stumbled. "The little girl told me they were going into the Mule's palace. I thought we could go with her. It must be gorgeous inside." "She told you that, did she? Well, she isn't and we aren't. Now go tend your own business. I've had about enough of you." "But, Poochie, why not? Aren't you going to let them? The little girl said that you were going to make an Empire!" "I don't care what she said?What was that?" He strode to Callia, and caught her firmly above the elbow, so that his fingers sank deeply into the soft flesh, "What did she tell you?" "You're hurting me. I can't remember what she said, if you're going to look at me like that." He released her, and she stood there for a moment, rubbing vainly at the red marks. She whimpered, "The little girl made me promise not to tell." "That's too bad. Tell me! Now!" "Well, she said the Seldon Plan was changed and that there was another Foundation somewheres that was arranging to have you make an Empire. That's all. She said Mr. Munn was a very important scientist and that the Mule's palace would have proof of all that. That's every bit of what she said. Are you angry?" But Stettin did not answer. He left the room, hurriedly, with Callia's cowlike eyes staring mournfully after him. Two orders were sent out over the official seal of the First Citizen before the hour was up. One had the effect of sending five hundred ships of the line into space on what were officially to be termed as "war games." The other had the effect of throwing a single man into confusion. Homir Munn ceased his preparations to leave when that second order reached him. It was, of course, official permission to enter the palace of the Mule. He read and reread it with anything but joy. But Arcadia was delighted. She knew what had happened. Or, at any rate, she thought she did. 第七章 贵妇   艾嘉蒂娅现在真是得意洋洋——自从裴礼斯•安索把那张笨脸靠到她的窗子那天起,人生就起了意想不到的巨大变化,而这都是因为她有眼光、有勇气去做一切该做的事情。 如今,她终于来到了卡尔根。她已经去过宏伟的中央剧院,那是全银河最大的一间剧院,而且亲眼见到许多著名的歌星。即使在遥远的基地上,那些名歌星也都是家喻户晓的人物。她也去逛过了锦簇大道——这个全银河最繁华世界的流行中心——并且依照自己的心意,选购了许多商品,因为侯密尔对这种事根本一窍不通。她看上了一件熠熠生辉的长礼服,上面的直条纹使她看来修长许多,店员则绝不认为不适合她的年龄。基地的现金在这里非常、非常管用,侯密尔给了她一张十点的纸币,兑换成卡尔根币之后,就变成了厚厚的一大捆。 她甚至还换了一个新发型——把后面的头发剪短,两侧烫成耀眼的波浪状。经过细心的护发处理后,她的金发看起来比以前更加亮丽,简直就像会闪闪发光。 不过,比较起来,最精采的节目还是刚才那一幕。老实说,史铁亭统领的宫邸并不如剧院那般豪华壮观,也不像骡殿那样神秘而令人发思古之幽情——当然,直到目前为止,他们只是在飞越这个行星上空时,瞥见了那些孤独的尖塔而已。不过无论如何,想想看,能够晋见一位如假包换的统领,她为这份荣耀感到骄傲不已。 而且除此之外,还有机会跟统领的“宠姬”面对面交谈。艾嘉蒂娅在心中特别将“宠姬”加上了引号,因为她很了解这种女人在历史上扮演的角色,知道她们拥有的魅力与权力。事实上,她也一直有一个梦想,希望将来有朝一日,自己也能成为这样一个倾国倾城的尤物,只可惜基地如今不流行这一套。而且,即使有这种机会,父亲大概也不会答应。 当然,嘉丽贵妇并不完全符合艾嘉蒂娅的想像。她看起来稍嫌丰满,一点也没有那种狐媚、淫邪的味道,而且还有几分苍老与近视。此外她的声音也太尖了,并非那种充满磁性的低沉声调。还有…… 嘉丽说:“你还要不要加一点茶,孩子?” “我想再来一杯,谢谢您,王妃。”或者应该称呼她“殿下”? 艾嘉蒂娅继续以鉴赏家的口吻,老气横秋地说:“您戴的这串珍珠真是美丽,夫人。”(想来想去,“夫人”似乎最恰当。) “哦?你真的这么觉得吗?”嘉丽好像挺高兴,顺手就把项链摘下,拿在手中晃来晃去,看来像是一扇乳白色的帘幕。然后她说,“你喜欢吗?如果你喜欢的话,就收下来吧。” “喔,我的天……您这话当真……”她发现项链已经到了自己手里,赶紧作势要还回去,还用感叹的口吻说:“爸爸不喜欢……” “他不喜欢珍珠吗?可是这些都是上好的珍珠啊。” “我的意思是说,如果我收下这串珍珠,他会不高兴的。他总是嘱咐我说,‘你不可以随便接受贵重的礼物’。” “不可以吗?但是……我是说,这个礼物是卜……是第一公民送给我的。你认为我也不应该收下吗?” 艾嘉蒂娅急得满脸通红:“我不是这个意思……” 不过嘉丽已经厌倦了这个话题,她任由项链滑落到地板,也根本懒得理会。她对艾嘉蒂娅说:“我要你告诉我有关基地的一切,请你现在就开始说。” 艾嘉蒂娅突然感到哑口无言,那个无聊得令人想掉眼泪的地方,有什么好说的呢?对她而言,基地只是一个郊外的小镇,一个舒适的住宅,一个每天不得不硬着头皮去的学校,一个永远无趣而单调的生活。于是,她只好心虚地答道:“我想,就跟您从胶卷书中读到的一样。” “哦,你爱看胶卷书吗?我常常想试着看看,可是每次一看就头痛。不过,你可知道,我最喜欢看超视中的行商故事——那些雄壮、粗犷的男人,看来总是又刺激又过瘾。你的那个朋友,孟恩先生,他也是一名行商吗?他看起来似乎没有那么粗犷。大多数的行商都留着大胡子,说话的声音低沉沙哑,而且对女人总是予取予求——你说对不对?” 艾嘉蒂娅露出一个生硬的笑容:“那些都是过去的历史了,夫人。我的意思是说,在基地的早期,行商负责为基地开疆拓土,并且把文明散播到银河各处——这些都是我们在学校学到的。可是那个时代早已成为过去,现在我们那里一个行商都没有了,只剩下公司、公会等等的组织。” “真的吗?实在是太可惜了。那么孟恩先生又是干什么的?我是说,既然他不是一名行商的话。” “侯密尔叔叔是一位图书馆馆员。” 嘉丽用一只手捂住嘴,吃吃地笑道:“你的意思是说,他专门负责管理胶卷书。喔,天哪!一个大男人做这种事情,好像太没出息了。” “他是一位很优秀的图书馆馆员,夫人。在基地,这是非常高尚的职业。” 她一面说,一面把泛着晕彩的小茶杯放到乳白色金属桌上。 女主人感到很不好意思,赶紧说:“亲爱的孩子,我绝对无意冒犯你。他一定是个很聪明、很聪明的人,我一见到他,就从他的眼中看出了这一点。他的眼睛简直……简直就是太聪明了。而且他一定也很勇敢,才会有勇气想要探访骡殿。” “勇敢?”艾嘉蒂娅突然全神贯注,这正是她所等待的一刻。开始执行计划!执行计划!她故意瞪着自己的大拇指,尽可能用不经意的语调问道,“为什么想要探访骡殿,就能算是勇敢呢?” “你不知道吗?”嘉丽的眼睛瞪得圆圆的,声音也变得低沉,“那里面曾经受到诅咒,骡在临死前下过命令,在银河帝国建立之前,不准任何人踏入半步。卡尔根的本地人,甚至连周围的广场都不敢进去。” 艾嘉蒂娅领会了她的意思,遂又问道:“不过那只是迷信……” “不要这么说——”嘉丽显得十分苦恼,“卜吉也总是这么说,但是他也说过,为了要维持他的统治,最好还是别戳破那个迷信。话又说回来,我也从来没见到他自己去过那里。而萨洛斯也从没去过——萨洛斯就是我们的前任第一公民。” 说到这里,她好像突然想到什么事,又好奇地问道:“可是孟恩先生为什么要去骡殿呢?” 现在,艾嘉蒂娅精心策划的计谋终于可以展开。她从历史小说中学到一件事实,那就是一国之君的宠姬才是真正的掌权者,她们拥有的影响力简直不可思议。因此,如果侯密尔叔叔被史铁亭统领拒绝的话——她料到一定如此——自己就必须从嘉丽贵妇这边挽回局势。其实,嘉丽贵妇本人也是个谜一样的人物,她似乎不太精明。然而,历史在在证明…… 于是她说:“当然是有原因的,夫人——可是您能不能保密呢?” “我可以发誓。”嘉丽说着,就在柔软、丰挺、雪白的胸前画了一个十字。 于是艾嘉蒂娅小心谨慎地开始叙述,每一句话脱口之前都仔细想了一下。 “您可知道,侯密尔叔叔是研究骡的头号权威,写过好多、好多这方面的书籍。他认为,自从骡征服了基地之后,整个银河的历史就被改写了。” “喔,天哪。” “他还认为谢顿计划……” 嘉丽突然拍拍手,插嘴道:“我知道这个谢顿计划,行商影片总是绕着谢顿计划打转。这个计划能让基地永远打胜仗,好像牵涉到了什么科学,不过我总是不明白其中的道理。每次听到那些解释的时候,我就很不耐烦。可是请你继续讲,亲爱的孩子,你的解释完全不同,你把每一件事都讲得清清楚楚。” 于是艾嘉蒂娅便继续说下去:“嗯,那么您有没有注意到,基地却被骡打败了,这就等于是谢顿计划的失败。而且从此之后,这个计划再也没有发生过作用。所以说,又要由什么人来建立第二帝国呢?” “第二帝国?” “是的,总有一天它终将出现,但是它又要如何出现呢?您知道,这可是一个大问题。此外,还有一个第二基地。” “第二基地?”她露出一副莫名其妙的表情。 “是啊,他们负责根据谢顿的心意,来策划整个银河历史。他们阻止了骡的行动,因为当年时机尚未成熟。不过,现在他们也许会支持卡尔根。” “为什么?” “因为现在,卡尔根最有可能成为新帝国的核心。” 嘉丽贵妇似乎体会出了这句话的含意,她说:“你的意思是说,卜吉将要建立一个新的帝国?” “我们现在还不能确定,侯密尔叔叔的确这么认为。不过他得先看看骡所留下的记录,才能够肯定这一点。” “这一切实在是太复杂了。”嘉丽贵妇半信半疑地说。 艾嘉蒂娅只好放弃,她已经尽了最大的努力。 史铁亭统领现在的心情相当不好,他刚才接见了那个基地来的娘娘腔,结果根本一点收获也没有。而且更糟的是,这简直令他大失面子——他是二十七个世界的惟一统治者,银河中最大武力的最高统帅,拥有天下无敌的雄心壮志,今天却跟一个专门搜集古董的人,扯了那么多毫无意义的废话。 真该死! 他简直是想破坏卡尔根的传统嘛,不是吗?能够因为这个傻子想再写一本书,就允许他进入骡殿去翻箱倒柜吗?为了科学!为了神圣的知识!天啊!自己为什么要忍受那些义正辞严的高调呢?而且——他突然感到一阵微微刺痛——别忘了还有诅咒呢。他自己当然不相信,每一个有头脑的人都不会相信。然而,如果他决心向骡的诅咒挑战,至少也需要一个更好的理由,而绝不是这个傻子提出的那些蠢话。 “你来干什么?”他突然大吼一声,嘉丽贵妇吓得僵在门口。 “你现在忙吗?” “没错,我很忙。” “可是现在这里没有别人,卜吉。我难道不能跟你说一会儿话吗?” “噢,天啊!你究竟要说什么?赶快说吧。” 于是她结结巴巴地说道:“那个小女孩告诉我,说他们打算到骡殿里头。我想也许我们可以跟她一块去,那里面一定华丽无比。” “她那样告诉你的,对不对?哼,她去不成,我们也不要去。现在去忙你自己的吧,我已经被你烦透了。” “可是,卜吉,为什么不要呢?你不准备批准他们吗?那个小女孩说,你将要建立一个帝国呢!” “我才不管她说过什么——等一等,她说什么?”他大步向嘉丽走去,用力抓住她的手肘,五根指头全部陷入她柔嫩的肌肤。然后他又问:“她到底跟你说了些什么?” “你弄痛我哪!你这样子瞪着我,我根本就记不起来她说过的话。” 他立即松开了手,她默然站在原处,搓揉着被抓出来的红印子。过了一会儿,她才哭哭啼啼地说:“那个小女孩要我答应谁都别讲。” “那可真糟糕——告诉我!赶快说!” “好吧,她说谢顿计划已经改变了,不知道什么地方还有另一个基地,他们会想办法让你建立一个帝国,主要就是这个意思。她还说,孟恩先生是一位非常重要的科学家,骡殿里藏着所有的证据。她说的话我都一五一十告诉你了,现在你还生气吗?” 不过史铁亭并没有回答,他头也不回地迅速离开了。嘉丽只能张着一双大大的眼睛,伤感地目送着他的背影。 在一小时之内,盖着第一公民官印的两道命令就发了出去。其中一道命令使五百艘星际战舰立即升空,去从事官方所谓的“实战演习”;而另外一道命令,则使得某个人一时之间不知所措。 当命令送达时,侯密尔•孟恩已经在做离境的准备。命令的内容当然是批准他进入骡殿。他捧着命令一读再读,顿时百感交集,唯独缺少了喜悦的情绪。 但是艾嘉蒂娅却喜出望外,她知道发生了什么事情。 或者应该说,她自以为料中了一切。 Chapter 8 Anxiety Poli placed the breakfast on the table, keeping one eye on the table news-recorder which quietly disgorged the bulletins of the day. It could be done easily enough without loss of efficiency, this one-eye-absent business. Since all items of food were sterilely packed in containers which served as discardable cooking units, her duties vis-a-vis breakfast consisted of nothing more than choosing the menu, placing the items on the table, and removing the residue thereafter. She clacked her tongue at what she saw and moaned softly in retrospect. "Oh, people are so wicked," she said, and Darell merely hemmed in reply. Her voice took on the high-pitched rasp which she automatically assumed when about to bewail the evil of the world. "Now why do these terrible Kalganese" ?she accented the second syIlable and gave it a long "a" ?"do like that? You'd think they'd give a body peace. But no, it's just trouble, trouble, all the time. "Now look at that headline: 'Mobs Riot Before Foundation Consulate.?Oh, would I like to give them a piece of my mind, if I could. That's the trouble with people; they just don't remember. They just don't remember, Dr. Darell ?got no memory at all. Look at the last war after the Mule died ?of course I was just a little girl then ?and oh, the fuss and trouble. My own uncle was killed, him being just in his twenties and only two years married, with a baby girl. I remember him even yet ?blond hair he had, and a dimple in his chin. I have a trimensional cube of him somewheres? "And now his baby girl has a son of her own in the navy and most like if anything happens? "And we had the bombardment patrols, and all the old men taking turns in the stratospheric defense ?I could imagine what they would have been able to do if the Kalganese had come that far. My mother used to tell us children about the food rationing and the prices and taxes. A body could hardly make ends meet? "You'd think if they had sense people would just never want to start it again; just have nothing to do with it. And I suppose it's not people that do it, either; I suppose even Kalganese would rather sit at home with their families and not go fooling around in ships and getting killed. It's that awful man, Stettin. It's a wonder people like that are let live. He kills the old man ?what's his name ?Thallos, and now he's just spoiling to be boss of everything. "And why he wants to fight us, I don't know. He's bound to lose ?like they always do. Maybe it's all in the Plan, but sometimes I'm sure it must be a wicked plan to have so much fighting and killing in it, though to be sure I haven't a word to say about Hari Seldon, who I'm sure knows much more about that than I do and perhaps I'm a fool to question him. And the other Foundation is as much to blame. They could stop Kalgan now and make everything fine. They'll do it anyway in the end, and you'd think they'd do it before there's any damage done." Dr. Darell looked up. "Did you say something, Poli?" Poli's eyes opened wide, then narrowed angrily. "Nothing, doctor, nothing at all. I haven't got a word to say. A body could as soon choke to death as say a word in this house. It's jump here, and jump there, but just try to say a word? and she went off simmering. Her leaving made as little impression on Darell as did her speaking. Kalgan! Nonsense! A merely physical enemy! Those had always been beaten! Yet he could not divorce himself of the current foolish crisis. Seven days earlier, the mayor had asked him to be Administrator of Research and Development. He had promised an answer today. Well? He stirred uneasily. Why, himself! Yet could he refuse? It would seem strange, and he dared not seem strange. After all, what did he care about Kalgan. To him there was only one enemy. Always had been. While his wife had lived, he was only too glad to shirk the task; to hide. Those long, quiet days on Trantor, with the ruins of the past about them! The silence of a wrecked world and the forgetfulness of it all! But she had died. Less than five years, all told, it had been; and after that he knew that he could live only by fighting that vague and fearful enemy that deprived him of the dignity of manhood by controlling his destiny; that made life a miserable struggle against a foreordained end; that made all the universe a hateful and deadly chess game. Call it sublimation; he, himself did can it that ?but the fight gave meaning to his life. First to the University of Santanni, where he had joined Dr. Kleise. It had been five years well-spent. And yet Kleise was merely a gatherer of data. He could not succeed in the real task ?and when Darell had felt that as certainty, he knew it was time to leave. Kleise may have worked in secret, yet he had to have men working for him and with him. He had subjects whose brains he probed. He had a University that backed him. All these were weaknesses. Kleise could not understand that; and he, Darell, could not explain that. They parted enemies. It was well; they had to. He had to leave in surrender ?in case someone watched. Where Kleise worked with charts; Darell worked with mathematical concepts in the recesses of his mind. Kleise worked with many; Darell with none. Kleise in a University; Darell in the quiet of a suburban house. And he was almost there. A Second Foundationer is not human as far as his cerebrum is concerned. The cleverest physiologist, the most subtle neurochemist might detect nothing ?yet the difference must be there. And since the difference was one of the mind, it was there that it must be detectable. Given a man like the Mule ?and there was no doubt that the Second Foundationers had the Mule's powers, whether inborn or acquired ?with the power of detecting and controlling human emotions, deduce from that the electronic circuit required, and deduce from that the last details of the encephalograph on which it could not help but be betrayed. And now Kleise had returned into his life, in the person of his ardent young pupil, Anthor. Folly! Folly! With his graphs and charts of people who had been tampered with. He had learned to detect that years ago, but of what use was it. He wanted the arm; not the tool. Yet he had to agree to join Anthor, since it was the quieter course. Just as now he would become Administrator of Research and Development. It was the quieter course! And so he remained a conspiracy within a conspiracy. The thought of Arcadia teased him for a moment, and he shuddered away from it. Left to himself, it would never have happened. Left to himself, no one would ever have been endangered but himself. Left to himself? He felt the anger rising-against the dead Kleise, the living Anthor, all the well-meaning fools? Well, she could take care of herself. She was a very mature little girl. She could take care of herself! It was a whisper in his mind? Yet could she? At the moment, that Dr. Darell told himself mournfully that she could, she was sitting in the coldly austere anteroom of the Executive Offices of the First Citizen of the Galaxy. For half an hour she had been sitting there, her eyes sliding slowly about the walls. There had been two armed guards at the door when she had entered with Homir Munn. They hadn't been there the other times. She was alone, now, yet she sensed the unfriendliness of the very furnishings of the room. And for the first time. Now, why should that be? Homir was with Lord Stettin. Well, was that wrong? It made her furious. In similar situations in the book-films and the videos, the hero foresaw the conclusion, was prepared for it when it came, and she ?she just sat there. Anything could happen. Anything! And she just sat there. Well, back again. Think it back. Maybe something would come. For two weeks, Homir had nearly lived inside the Mule's palace. He had taken her once, with Stettin's permission. It was large and gloomily massive, shrinking from the touch of life to lie sleeping within its ringing memories, answering the footsteps with a hollow boom or a savage clatter. She hadn't liked it. Better the great, gay highways of the capital city; the theaters and spectacles of a world essentially poorer than the Foundation, yet spending more of its wealth on display. Homir would return in the evening, awed? "It's a dream-world for me," he would whisper. "If I could only chip the palace down stone by stone, layer by layer of the aluminum sponge. If I could carry it back to Terminus?What a museum it would make." He seemed to have lost that early reluctance. He was eager, instead; glowing. Arcadia knew that by the one sure sign; he practically never stuttered throughout that period. One time, he said, "There are abstracts of the records of General Pritcher? "I know him. He was the Foundation renegade, who combed the Galaxy for the Second Foundation, wasn't he?" "Not exactly a renegade, Arkady. The Mule had Converted him." "Oh, it's the same thing." "Galaxy, that combing you speak of was a hopeless task. The original records of the Seldon Convention that established both Foundations five hundred years ago, make only one reference to the Second Foundation. They say if's located 'at the other end of the Galaxy at Star's End.' That's all the Mule and Pritcher had to go on. They had no method of recognizing the Second Foundation even if they found it. What madness! "They have records" ?he was speaking to himself, but Arcadia listened eagerly ?"which must cover nearly a thousand worlds, yet the number of worlds available for study must have been closer to a million. And we are no better off? Arcadia broke in anxiously, "Shhh-h" in a tight hiss. Homir froze, and slowly recovered. "Let's not talk," he mumbled. And now Homir was with Lord Stettin and Arcadia waited outside alone and felt the blood squeezing out of her heart for no reason at all. That was more frightening than anything else. That there seemed no reason. On the other side of the door, Homir, too, was living in a sea of gelatin. He was fighting, with furious intensity, to keep from stuttering and, of course, could scarcely speak two consecutive words clearly as a result. Lord Stettin was in full uniform, six-feet-six, large-jawed, and hard-mouthed. His balled, arrogant fists kept a powerful time to his sentences. "Well, you have had two weeks, and you come to me with tales of nothing. Come, sir, tell me the worst. Is my Navy to be cut to ribbons? Am I to fight the ghosts of the Second Foundation as well as the men of the First?" "I ... I repeat, my lord, I am no p ... pre ... predictor. I ... I am at a complete ... loss." "Or do you wish to go back to warn your countrymen? To deep Space with your play-acting. I want the truth or I抣l have it out of you along with half your guts." "I'm t ... telling only the truth, and I'll have you re ... remember, my l ... lord, that I am a citizen of the Foundation. Y ... you cannot touch me without harvesting m ... mmmmmmmore than you count on." The Lord of Kalgan laughed uproariously. "A threat to frighten children. A horror with which to beat back an idiot. Come, Mr. Munn, I have been patient with you. I have listened to you for twenty minutes while you detailed wearisome nonsense to me which must have cost you sleepless nights to compose. It was wasted effort. I know you are here not merely to rake through the Mule's dead ashes and to warm over the cinders you findyou come here for more than you have admitted. Is that not true?" Homir Munn could no more have quenched the burning horror that grew in his eyes than, at that moment, he could have breathed. Lord Stettin saw that, and clapped the Foundation man upon his shoulder so that he and the chair he sat on reeled under the impact. "Good. Now let us be frank. You are investigating the Seldon Plan. You know that it no longer holds. You know, perhaps, that I am the inevitable winner now; I and my heirs. Well, man, what matters it who established the Second Empire, so long as it is established. History plays no favorites, eh? Are you afraid to tell me? You see that I know your mission." Munn said thickly, "What is it y ... you w ... want?" "Your presence. I would not wish the Plan spoiled through overconfidence. You understand more of these things than I do; you can detect small flaws that I might miss. Come, you will be rewarded in the end; you will have your fair glut of the loot. What can you expect at the Foundation? To turn the tide of a perhaps inevitable defeat? To lengthen the war? Or is it merely a patriotic desire to die for your country?" "I ... I? He finally spluttered into silence. Not a word would come. "You will stay," said the Lord of Kalgan, confidently. "You have no choice. Wait" ?an almost forgotten afterthought ?"I have information to the effect that your niece is of the family of Bayta Darell." Homir uttered a startled: "Yes." He could not trust himself at this point to be capable of weaving anything but cold truth. "It is a family of note on the Foundation?" Homir nodded, "To whom they would certainly b ... brook no harm." "Harm! Don't be a fool, man; I am meditating the reverse. How old is she?" "Fourteen." "Sol Well, not even the Second Foundation, or Hari Seldon, himself, could stop time from passing or girls from becoming women." With that, he turned on his heel and strode to a draped door which he threw open violently. He thundered, "What in Space have you dragged your shivering carcass here for?" The Lady Callia blinked at him, and said in a small voice, "I didn't know anyone was with you." "Well, there is. I'll speak to you later of this, but now I want to see your back, and quickly." Her footsteps were a fading scurry in the corridor. Stettin returned, "She is a remnant of an interlude that has lasted too long. It will end soon. Fourteen, you say?" Homir stared at him with a brand-new horror! Arcadia started at the noiseless opening of a door ?jumping at the jangling sliver of movement it made in the comer of her eye. The finger that crooked frantically at her met no response for long moments, and then, as if in response to the cautions enforced by the very sight of that white, trembling figure, she tiptoed her way across the floor. Their footsteps were a taut whisper in the corridor. It was the Lady Callia, of course, who held her hand so tightly that it hurt, and for some reason, she did not mind following her. Of the Lady Callia, at least, she was not afraid. Now, why was that? They were in a boudoir now, all pink fluff and spun sugar. Lady Callia stood with her back against the door. She said, "This was our private way to me ... to my room, you know, from his office. His, you know." And she pointed with a thumb, as though even the thought of him were grinding her soul to death with fear. "It's so lucky ... it抯 so lucky? Her pupils had blackened out the blue with their size. "Can you tell me? began Arcadia timidly. And Callia was in frantic motion. "No, child, no. There is no time. Take off your clothes. Please. Please. I'll get you more, and they won't recognize you." She was in the closet, throwing useless bits of flummery in reckless heaps upon the ground, looking madly for something a girl could wear without becoming a living invitation to dalliance. "Here, this will do. It will have to. Do you have money? Here, take it all ?and this." She was stripping her ears and fingers. "Just go home ?go home to your Foundation." "But Homir ... my uncle." She protested vainly through the muffling folds of the sweet-smelling and luxurious spun-metal being forced over heeeeead. "He won't leave. Poochie will hold him forever, but you mustn't stay. Oh, dear, don't you understand?" "No." Arcadia forced a standstill, "I don't understand." Lady Callia squeezed her hands tightly together. "You must go back to warn your people there will be war. Isn't that clear?" Absolute terror seemed paradoxically to have lent a lucidity to her thoughts and words that was entirely out of character. "Now come!" Out another way! Past officials who stared after them, but saw no reason to stop one whom only the Lord of Kalgan could stop with impunity. Guards clicked heels and presented arms when they went through doors. Arcadia breathed only on occasion through the years the trip seemed to take ?yet from the first crooking of the white finger to the time she stood at the outer gate, with people and noise and traffic in the distance was only twenty-five minutes. She looked back, with a sudden frightened pity. "I ... I ... don't know why you're doing this, my lady, but thanks?What's going to happen to Uncle Homir?" "I don't know," wailed the other. "Can't you leave? Go straight to the spaceport. Don't wait. He may be looking for you this very minute." And still Arcadia lingered. She would be leaving Homir; and, belatedly, now that she felt the free air about her, she was suspicious. "But what do you care if he does?" Lady Callia bit her lower lip and muttered, "I can't explain to a little girl like you. It would be improper. Well, you'll be growing up and I ... I met Poochie when I was sixteen. I can't have you about, you know." There was a half-ashamed hostility in her eyes. The implications froze Arcadia. She whispered: "What will he do to you when he finds out?" And she whimpered back: "I don't know," and threw her arm to her head as she left at a half-run, back along the wide way to the mansion of the Lord of Kalgan. But for one eternal second, Arcadia still did not move, for in that last moment before Lady Callia left, Arcadia had seen something. Those frightened, frantic eyes had momentarily ?flashingly ?lit up with a cold amusement. A vast, inhuman amusement. It was much to see in such a quick flicker of a pair of eyes, but Arcadia had no doubt of what she saw. She was running now ?running wildly ?searching madly for an unoccupied public booth at which one could press a button for public conveyance. She was not running from Lord Stettin; not from him or from all the human hounds he could place at her heels ?not from all his twenty-seven worlds rolled into a single gigantic phenomenon, hallooing at her shadow. She was running from a single, frail woman who had helped her escape. From a creature who had loaded her with money and jewels; who had risked her own life to save her. From an entity she knew, certainly and finally, to be a woman of the Second Foundation. An air-taxi came to a soft clicking halt in the cradle. The wind of its coming brushed against Arcadia's face and stirred at the hair beneath the softly-furred hood Callia had given her. "Where'll it be, lady?" She fought desperately to low-pitch her voice to make it not that of a child. "How many spaceports in the city?" "Two. Which one ya want?" "Which is closer?" He stared at her: "Kalgan Central, lady." "The other one, please. I抳e got the money." She had a twenty-Kalganid note in her hand. The denomination of the note made little difference to her, but the taxi-man grinned appreciatively. "Anything ya say, lady. Sky-line cabs take ya anywhere." She cooled her cheek against the slightly musty upholstery. The lights of the city moved leisurely below her. What should she do? What should she do? It was in that moment that she knew she was a stupid, stupid little girl, away from her father, and frightened. Her eyes were full of tears, and deep down in her throat, there was a small, soundless cry that hurt her insides. She wasn't afraid that Lord Stettin would catch her. Lady Callia would see to that. Lady Callia! Old, fat, stupid, but she held on to her lord, somehow. Oh, it was clear enough, now. Everything was clear. That tea with Callia at which she had been so smart. Clever little Arcadia! Something inside Arcadia choked and hated itself. That tea had been maneuvered, and then Stettin had probably been maneuvered so that Homir was allowed to inspect the Palace after all. She, the foolish Callia, has wanted it so, and arranged to have smart little Arcadia supply a foolproof excuse, one which would arouse no suspicions in the minds of the victims, and yet involve a minimum of interference on her part. Then why was she free? Homir was a prisoner, of course? Unless? Unless she went back to the Foundation as a decoy ?a decoy to lead others into the hands of ... of them. So she couldn't return to the Foundation? "Spaceport, lady." The air-taxi had come to a halt. Strange! She hadn't even noticed. What a dream-world it was. "Thanks," she pushed the bill at him without seeing anything and was stumbling out the door, then running across the springy pavement. Lights. Unconcerned men and women. Large gleaming bulletin boards, with the moving figures that followed every single spaceship that arrived and departed. Where was she going? She didn't care. She only knew that she wasn't going to the Foundation! Anywhere else at all would suit. Oh, thank Seldon, for that forgetful moment ?that last split-second when Callia wearied of her act because she had to do only with a child and had let her amusement spring through. And then something else occurred to Arcadia, something that had been stirring and moving at the base of her brain ever since the flight began ?something that forever killed the fourteen in her. And she knew that she must escape. That above all. Though they located every conspirator on the Foundation; though they caught her own father; she could not dared not, risk a warning. She could not risk her own life ?not in the slightest ?for the entire realm of Terminus. She was the most important person in the Galaxy. She was the only important person in the Galaxy. She knew that even as she stood before the ticket-machine and wondered where to go. Because in all the Galaxy, she and she alone, except for they, themselves, knew the location of the Second Foundation. 第八章 忧心如焚   波莉一面准备早餐,一面瞄着餐桌上的新闻记录仪。当天发生的新闻全部一桩桩显示在记录仪上,她只需要用一只眼睛,就能毫无遗漏地从头看到尾。所有食物都是现成的,全都密封在无菌而随用随丢的容器内。她的工作其实只是选择菜式、布置餐桌,餐后再将一切收拾干净而已。 她忍不住对那些新闻发表了不少高见,然后又感慨万千地长叹了一口气。 “喔,真是人心不古。”她有感而发。达瑞尔只是哼了一声作为回答。 她的声调突然变得尖锐刺耳,每当她感叹世风日下的时候,都会自动转换成这种腔调。她说:“唉,这些可怕的卡尔根人,为什么要这样做呢?原本以为他们会让人过几天太平日子,可是根本没有,总是找麻烦,找麻烦,没完没了。”她每次总是将“卡尔根”念走了音。 “你看看那个新闻标题:‘基地领事馆前暴民滋事’。喔,如果可能的话,我真想好好开导他们一番。这是人类的通病,他们就是不能记取历史的教训,就是不长记性!达瑞尔博士,世人就是这么一点记性也没有。想想骡死后发生的那场战争吧,当然那时候我还只是个小女孩,可是哦,那种动乱我一辈子都忘不了。我的亲叔叔在那场战争中英勇牺牲,当时他才二十几岁,刚刚结婚两年而已,还留下了一个女娃。他的模样我到现在还记得清清楚楚——一头金发,脸颊上有个酒窝,我还保存着他的一个立体水晶像…… “现在,那个女娃也早已长大成人,她的独子如今正在舰队服役。如果发生任何冲突的话,那就极有可能…… “虽然我们有空袭侦察队,而且由老人轮流守卫同温层——可是如果卡尔根真的打过来,我真难想像他们能做些什么。母亲当年常常对我们说起战时的艰苦岁月,粮食配给、物价高涨、税金暴增等等。简直就让人活不下去…… “我认为,如果他们那些人还有理智的话,就绝不应该重蹈覆辙。我也认为这根本不是人民的意思,我想即使是卡尔根人,也宁愿待在家中享受天伦之乐,而不愿意到太空去横冲直撞,然后全部葬身在星舰中。一切都是那个可怕的人物史铁亭的意思,真奇怪老天怎么会让这种人活到现在。他杀害了那个老家伙——他叫什么名字?对,萨洛斯——现在又准备要征服宇宙了。 “我实在不知道,他为什么想要攻打我们。他注定会失败的——就像以往每次一样。也许这一切都包括在谢顿计划中,可是有时候我忍不住想到,那必定是个邪恶的计划,才会有那么多的战争和杀戮。不过我可绝对没有批评哈里•谢顿,我相信他知道的一定比我多得多,也许因为我太笨了,才会对他的计划产生怀疑。另外那个基地也一样欠骂,他们现在明明就能制止卡尔根,让银河各处恢复太平,既然他们最后总要这么做,我认为,就该在任何战祸发生之前赶紧行动。” 达瑞尔博士终于抬起头来,问道:“你在说什么呢,波莉?” 波莉的一双眼睛睁得老大,然后又气呼呼地眯了起来。她答道:“没有,博士,我什么都没说,也根本没什么好说的。在这个家里,别说是说句话了,就是死了也没人会注意到。忙进忙出,忙出忙进,就是没有时间开口说话……”说完,她就带着一肚子闷气离开了餐厅。 达瑞尔博士并没有注意到波莉已经离去,正如刚才没有听到她在说什么一样。 卡尔根!真无聊!那只是一个有形的敌人。这种敌人永远是基地的手下败将。 然而,对于眼前这个可笑的危机,他也无法完全置身事外。七天以前,市长正式邀请他出任“研究发展部”的部长,他答应今天要作出决定。 可是…… 他感到坐立不安,市长竟然选上了自己!但是他难道能够拒绝吗?如果拒绝的话,就会显得太不合情理,而他现在不能冒这种险。无论如何,他根本不必担心卡尔根,对他而言,敌人只有一个,始终就只有一个。 当妻子在世的时候,人生幸福美满,他有充分的借口逃避责任离群索居。在川陀的那段漫长而幽静的日子,周遭全是荒芜的废墟。他们遗世独立在那个残破的世界上,浑然忘却世间的一切。 可是不久她就去世了,前后还不到五年。从那时候开始,他就知道,今后惟一能够做的,便是与那些可怕的隐形敌人奋战一生——那些敌人控制了他的命运,剥夺了他做人的尊严,使他的人生变成绝望的挣扎。甚至连整个宇宙,都在那些既可恶又可怕的敌人掌握之中。 这可以称作一种感情的升华,至少他自己这么想。总之,这种奋战为他带来人生的意义。 他先来到圣塔尼大学,加入了克莱斯博士的研究工作。在那里的五年期间使他获益匪浅。 然而克莱斯所做的仅止于搜集数据,无法在真正的问题上有所突破。当达瑞尔肯定这一点之后,他就知道是该离开的时候了。 即使克莱斯的研究是在暗中进行,但是他难免需要助手;需要许多人脑样本来做脑波测定;需要一所大学支持他——而这些全都是他的弱点。 克莱斯不能了解这一点,可是达瑞尔也无法向他详加解释,两人终于闹得不欢而散。不过这样也好,反正他们早晚要散伙的。他必须表现得放弃了一切——因为很可能有人在暗中监视。 克莱斯使用图表来分析脑波,达瑞尔却只凭借心灵深处的数学概念;克莱斯与许多人共同工作,达瑞尔却没有任何研究伙伴;克莱斯待在一所大学里头,达瑞尔却栖身于郊外静谧的住宅中。 而他已经快要成功了。 就大脑构造而言,第二基地分子根本不能算是人类。虽然,即使是最杰出的生理学家、最高明的神经化学家,可能也无法侦测出任何异状——然而差异却一定存在。由于这种差异藏身心灵之中,该处必定会有某些侦测得到的迹象。 第二基地上的人,无疑全都拥有类似骡的异能,姑且不论这种能力是先天或后天的。既然对方像骡那样,具有侦测与控制人类情感的能力,就应该可以设计出一种电子电路,来测定这种人的特殊脑波。而在脑电图的详细记录中,他们那种异能绝对无所遁形。 如今,克莱斯的幽灵化身为得意高徒安索,又闯进了他的生命中。 愚蠢!愚蠢!搜集那些受到干扰人士的脑电图干什么?自己在几年前已经发明了侦测的方法,可是这又有什么用?他需要的是反击的武器,而不是侦测的工具。 然而,他却必须答应与安索合作,因为这样才能掩人耳目。 而现在这个研发部部长的职位也是一样,也是另一个掩人耳目的妙招!如今,他俨然成了一个计中计的主角。 他突然又想到了艾嘉蒂娅,立刻感到一阵不安,赶紧把它从心头甩掉。如果安索从来未曾出现,这件事情就不会发生;如果安索未曾出现,除了他自己之外,不会有第二个人的生命受到威胁。如果安索未曾出现…… 他感觉一阵怒火攻心——他气已故的克莱斯,气活着的安索,以及所有好心的笨蛋…… 算了,她会照顾自己的,她是个很懂事的小女孩。 她会好好照顾自己的! 他心里不停地这样想…… 可是,她真的能照顾自己吗? 当达瑞尔博士忧心忡忡地自我安慰时,艾嘉蒂娅正坐在银河第一公民官邸办公室的简朴会客室中。她已经在这里头等了半个小时,百无聊赖地瞪着四面的墙壁。刚才,当她跟侯密尔•孟恩进入这间会客室的时候,门口站着两名武装警卫——过去这里是从来没有任何警卫的。 现在她一个人待在会客室里,感觉室内每一件家具、每一项陈设都透露着敌意,这还是她生平第一次出现这种感觉。 可是,为什么会这样呢? 侯密尔现在正和史铁亭在一起,然而,这又有什么不对吗? 想到这里,她突然涌起一股怒气。在胶卷书或超视的故事中,每次出现类似情节,主角总是能料中下一步发展,事先预作准备。但是她——她只能坐在那里,任何事情都可能发生,任何事情!而她就只能坐在那里。 好吧,再好好想一想,从头想一想。这样,也许能够获得一点灵感。 过去两周以来,侯密尔几乎天天都待在骡殿里面。他曾经带她去过一次,当然事先取得了史铁亭的许可。骡殿里面宽敞、幽暗而气氛肃穆,所有的一切都毫无生气,仿佛沉睡在昔日的光辉中。偌大的建筑物,只有脚步声在殿中激起空洞而萧瑟的回音。 总之,她不喜欢那里。 比较之下,还是首都宽阔热闹的街道、美仑美奂的剧院对她更具吸引力。这个世界虽然不比基地富有,却舍得花更多的钱来装点门面。 侯密尔通常都在傍晚回来,而且总是带着一种敬畏的心情…… “那个地方我以前作梦也不敢想。如果我能把殿中的石头一块一块敲掉,把发泡铝一层一层拆下来,再将它们全都运回端点星——想想看,能盖一座什么样的博物馆。”他好几次发出如此的呓语。 他早先的迟疑犹豫完全消失无踪,如今他表现得急切而狂热。这一点艾嘉蒂娅绝对可以肯定,因为她发现了一个明显的征状——最近这些日子以来,他讲话的时候一点都不结巴了。 有一天,他对艾嘉蒂娅说:“我找到了普利吉将军记录的摘要。” “我听说过他,他是基地的叛徒,曾经为了寻找第二基地而翻遍了银河,对不对?” “我们不能说他是叛徒,艾卡蒂,是骡令他‘回转’的。” “哦,那还不是一样。” “唉,你所谓的翻遍了银河,这件事简直比大海捞针还要困难。四百年前,为了筹设两个基地而召开的谢顿大会,它的原始记录只提到了第二基地一次,说是设立在‘银河的另一端,群星的尽头处’。那就是骡和普利吉惟一的线索。当年他们即使找到了第二基地,也没有办法能够确认,真是疯狂的行动!” 侯密尔几乎是在自言自语,不过艾嘉蒂娅却听得很用心。 “他们所拥有的记录,一定涵盖了将近一千个世界;可是他们需要探索的世界,却接近一百万个。我们的情况也好不到哪里去……” “嘘——”艾嘉蒂娅突然机警地阻止他再说下去。 侯密尔吓了一跳,过了好一阵子才恢复镇定,然后低声道:“咱们别说了。” 现在,侯密尔正和史铁亭统领在一起,而艾嘉蒂娅一个人孤伶伶地等在外面。不知道为什么,她感觉心脏里的血液全部都被挤了出来,这种莫名其妙的感觉,其实是最恐怖不过的。 而在另一个房间里,侯密尔也觉得全身好像陷入黏胶之中。他拼命努力想把话说清楚,但是一点用也没有,他的口吃再度复发,而且变得比以前更为严重。 史铁亭统领此时全副戎装,他的身高有六尺六寸,下颚宽大,嘴角轮廓分明。他说话的时候两手始终握拳,还不时用力挥舞着。 “好啊,你忙了两个星期,现在却向我胡扯一通。没有关系,孟恩先生,你就告诉我最坏的情况吧。是不是我的舰队将会全军覆没?是不是除了第一基地的人员之外,我还得跟第二基地的幽灵作战?” “我……我再强调一次,大统领,我不是……预……预……预言家。我……我完全搞……搞糊涂了。” “或者你是想回去警告你的同胞?你少给我他妈的装蒜。我要你对我说实话,不然我就自己动手把实话挖出来,连你的内脏也一块挖出来。” “我说……说的都是实话,我还想提……提醒您,大……大统领,我是基地的公民。您……您不可以伤害我,否则就会吃……吃……吃不了兜着走。” 卡尔根统领纵声狂笑:“这种话只能吓唬小孩子,这种威胁只能让白痴却步。得了吧,孟恩先生,我已经对你很有耐心了,我花了二十分钟听你胡说八道。你一定有好几个晚上没睡觉,才能够编出这些故事来。你这样做是白费力气,我知道你来这里,绝不只是想要捡拾骡的骨灰而已——你还另有不可告人的目的,难道不是吗?” 侯密尔•孟恩再也无法浇熄眼中露出的恐惧炽焰,而且在那一瞬间,他似乎连呼吸都有困难。史铁亭统领将这一切看在眼里,故意伸手拍拍这个基地人的肩膀,果然孟恩连人带椅一起摇晃了一下。 “很好,现在就让我们开诚布公。你在研究谢顿计划,而且知道它已经不复存在。此外,或许你还知道如今我已成了必然的赢家,我和我的继承人将会君临天下。唉,老弟,由谁来建立第二帝国又有什么关系?只要能够建立起来就行了。历史是铁面无私的,对不对?你不敢告诉我吗?可是我已经知道你的任务了。” 孟恩以嘶哑的声音道:“您……您到底想要……要什么?” “我要你留下来,我不希望因为过度自信,而破坏了这个新的计划。关于这些事情,你懂得比我多,如果我忽略了任何小问题,你一定可以看得出来。答应我吧,将来我会好好犒赏你的,你会获得数不清的战利品。你又能指望基地做什么呢?扭转几乎已成定局的颓势吗?让战事延长吗?或者你只是基于爱国心,而一心想要为国捐躯?” “我……我……”他口沫横飞地“我”了半天,其他一个字也没有吐出来,最后只好放弃努力。 “你给我留下来,”卡尔根统领志得意满地说:“你没有任何选择的余地。等一等——” 他突然想到了另一件重要的事,“我获得了一项情报,说你的侄女是贝妲•达瑞尔的后人。” 侯密尔吃了一惊,脱口而出答道:“是啊。”到了这个关头,除了坦承事实之外,他不相信自己有能力编织任何谎言。 “他们这个家族在基地很有名望。” 侯密尔拼命点头:“基地绝对不会坐……坐视他们受到任何伤害。” “伤害!你别傻了,老弟,我打的主意正好相反。她今年多大了?” “十四岁。” “十四岁!嗯,不过即使是第二基地,或者是哈里•谢顿本人,也都没有办法阻止时光流逝,不准一个小女孩长成大人。” 说完,他立刻一个转身,奔到侧门前面,将门帘用力一扯。 然后他怒吼道:“你他妈的死到这里来做什么?” 嘉丽贵妇对他猛眨眼睛,细声地答道:“我不知道还有别人跟你在一起。” “哼,的确是还有别人,我等一会儿再跟你算帐。现在我只想看到你的背影,赶快给我向后转。” 她立刻奔向走廊,细碎的脚步声渐行渐远。 接着史铁亭又走回侯密尔的面前,对他说:“她只能算是我生命中的一个小插曲,根本就无足轻重,而且,这个插曲已经拖得太久了,很快就会结束的。你刚才说,她才十四岁?” 侯密尔张大了眼睛瞪着他,心底又冒出了一种新的恐惧。 此时艾嘉蒂娅也张大了眼睛,目不转睛地瞪着悄悄打开的门——她的眼角突然看见一个细小的动作,不禁令她大吃一惊。那是门后伸出的一根手指头,正在向她一屈一伸地比画着,好像是急着要叫她出来,可是她却久久没有反应。后来,或许是她看清了那个苍白、颤抖、焦急的身形,才蹑手蹑脚地走向门口。 然后两个人便慌慌张张地顺着长廊走去。带走艾嘉蒂娅的当然就是嘉丽贵妇,她现在正紧紧抓着女孩的手。艾嘉蒂娅虽然被她抓疼了,不过仍然安心地跟着她走,至少,艾嘉蒂娅对她完全没有恐惧感。 可是,这又是为什么呢? 她们来到了贵妇的闺房,整个房间的陈设都是粉红色系列,看起来像是一家糖果店。嘉丽贵妇背靠着门,开始说道:“你可知道,这是从他的办公室,到我……我的房间的一条专用走道。他——你知道是谁吧。”她一面说,一面伸出大拇指向旁边指了指,同时脸上露出恐惧的表情。好像即使只是想到他一下,都会令她吓得半死。 “真是侥幸……真是侥幸……”她的瞳孔突然放大,使得湛蓝的眼珠大半变成了黑色。 “您能不能告诉我……”艾嘉蒂娅畏畏缩缩地问道。没想到嘉丽却像是急疯了一样,对她说:“不,孩子,没有时间了。把你的衣服脱下来,拜托,求求你。我帮你找几件衣服,这样他们就认不出你。” 她的话还没说完,人已经钻进了衣橱,手忙脚乱地一阵翻找,把好些乱七八糟的东西丢了出来,地板上立刻堆起一座座的小山。她想找一件比较适合艾嘉蒂娅年龄的衣服,不希望她一出去立刻受到登徒子的包围。 “找到了,这件应该可以,不可以也不行。你有没有钱?来,拿着这个……还有这个。”她把耳环与戒指都摘了下来,然后又补充了一句:“马上回家去——回到基地去。” “可是侯密尔……我叔……”芬芳、名贵、混纺着金属的衣裳向她当头罩下,她的声音从衣料中透出来,听起来有气无力。 “他走不了,卜吉永远不会放他走的。可是你绝对不能留下来,噢,亲爱的孩子,你难道不懂吗?” “不懂,”艾嘉蒂娅坚持不肯挪动脚步:“我真的不懂。” 嘉丽贵妇两手使劲绞在一起,又说:“你一定要回去警告你的同胞,告诉他们马上就会发生战争,听懂了吗?”可能是由于惊恐过度,反而使她的心思变得特别清楚;这几句话完全不像是她的口气。 “现在赶快走吧。”她们立刻从另一条路溜走。一路上遇到了一些官员,他们都眼睁睁地看着她俩离去,根本想不到有任何理由应该阻拦——除了卡尔根统领之外,没有人可以干涉嘉丽贵妇的行动。她们走过一道又一道的门,守门的卫兵一律立正举枪敬礼,她们根本没有受到任何盘查。 这段路程似乎走了好几年,一路上艾嘉蒂娅几乎连大气都不敢喘。事实上,从她看到那根屈伸的苍白手指算起,到她们来到官邸之外,接触到了人群、噪音与拥挤的交通,前后算来也只有二十五分钟而已。 艾嘉蒂娅向后看了一眼,心中顿时交杂着忧惧与同情。她问:“我……我……不知道您为什么要这么做,夫人,只能说我很感激——但是侯密尔叔叔又会有什么遭遇呢?” “我不晓得,”对方叹道,“你自己不能走吗?直接到太空航站去。不要犹豫,他可能已经在到处找你。” 艾嘉蒂娅却依然徘徊下去。她明白必须抛下侯密尔,而且时间已经相当急迫,然而一呼吸到自由空气,她却突然起了疑心,于是便问嘉丽:“如果他真的这么做,跟您又有什么关系呢?” 嘉丽贵妇咬咬下唇,喃喃地说:“我不能对一个像你这样的小女孩解释,这样做并不恰当。反正,你将来总会长大的,而我……我遇见卜吉的时候,才只有十六岁。我不能让你留下来,你应该知道。”她的眼中露出了掺杂着羞愧的妒意。 这些暗示令艾嘉蒂娅吓得浑身打颤,她低声问道:“如果他发现了,会怎样对付您?” 嘉丽也压低了声音回答:“我不知道。” 说完,她就用一只手按着头,沿着通往统领官邸的大道小跑步离去。 在那如同永恒的一刻,艾嘉蒂娅仍旧站在原地一动不动。因为在嘉丽贵妇离开之前那一瞬间,艾嘉蒂娅突然发现了一点异状——那双充满惊慌恐惧的大眼睛,竟然闪出了一丝喜悦的光芒。 那是一种无情、冷酷的喜悦。 虽然那双眼睛在刹那间显露出许多讯息,但是艾嘉蒂娅相信自己绝没有看错。 她终于开始向前跑,疯狂地奔跑,想要寻找一间空的候车亭。她知道必须在候车亭中,才能利用按键招来一辆计程飞车,尽快载她远离这个地方。 她并不是要躲避史铁亭统领,也不是要逃避他手下的鹰犬,甚至并非想逃离他所统治的二十七个世界,虽然那些世界都已经布下了天罗地网。 她真正想要逃避的,是帮助自己逃脱的那名弱女子。虽然“弱女子”给了她许多现金与珠宝,并且冒着生命危险拯救她,可是艾嘉蒂娅却知道——绝对可以确定——她是第二基地派出的女特务。 一辆计程飞车迅速来到,在候车亭外的起落架上缓缓停妥。飞车带来的一阵风拂到艾嘉蒂娅脸上,虽然她戴着嘉丽送的毛皮头巾,头发还是被吹乱了。 “去哪,小姐?” “本市有几个太空航站?”她拼命将声调降低,希望能够掩饰稚嫩的童音。 “两个,去哪个?” “哪一个最近?” 司机瞪着她说:“卡尔根中央航站,小姐。” “请带我去另外那一个,我有足够的钱。”她手中抓着一张面额二十元的卡尔根币,她对这个数目没有什么概念,那个司机却立刻笑逐颜开。 “去哪都成,小姐,‘天路’计程飞车能去任何地方。” 上了车之后,她将脸颊贴在冰冷而稍带霉味的椅套上,盯着地面上缓缓退却的万家灯火。 她应该怎么办?该怎么办? 直到那一刻,她才了解到自己是个愚蠢——愚蠢至极的小女孩,父亲如今不在身边,她一个人就感到孤苦无依,心中充满了恐惧。她的眼中噙着泪水,喉咙深处发出了阵阵轻微的抽噎,似乎连五脏六腑都被牵动了。 她并不怕被史铁亭统领逮捕,嘉丽贵妇一定不会让这种事发生。嘉丽贵妇!那个又老、又肥、又笨的女人,竟然有办法抓住统领的心。喔,现在原因已经很明显了,每一件事情都很明显了。 嘉丽请她喝茶的那一天,她自以为曾经有精彩的演出。精明的小艾嘉蒂娅!她的内心感到窒息,感到憎恨自己。嘉丽接见她根本就是早有预谋,也许史铁亭也中了她的圈套,才会在最后关头批准侯密尔进入骡殿。这一切都是她——大智若愚的嘉丽——早就已经计划好的,可是她却另有安排,让精明的小艾嘉蒂娅提出一个无懈可击的理由。这个理由不会引起任何当事人的怀疑,却能让她自己的介入减到最小的程度。 可是为什么自己现在重获自由,而侯密尔已经成了阶下囚? 除非…… 除非她回到基地,成为一个诱饵,引诱其他人也自投罗网…… 所以她绝对不能回基地去—— “太空航站,小姐。”计程飞车早已停妥。奇怪!她根本没有注意到。 简直就像一场迷离的梦境。 “谢谢你。”她连头都没有抬起来,就将那张钞票塞给司机,然后跌跌撞撞地走出车门,再奔越过富有弹性的车道。 放眼望去一片灯海,周围是悠闲的男女,头上是巨大而闪烁的布告板,其上有随着每艘太空船起降而移动的指针。 她应该到哪里去呢?她根本就不在乎,只知道自己绝对不能回基地!其他任何地方都可以。 喔,多亏谢顿保佑,才能出现那意外的一刻。最后的几分之一秒,嘉丽厌倦了继续表演下去,因为对方毕竟只是个孩子,所以她忍不住提早流露出了喜色。 此时艾嘉蒂娅心中突然冒出一个念头——自从开始逃亡之后,这个念头就一直在她的意识之下窜动——使她从此告别了天真无邪的童年。 她知道自己必须要逃。 这是最要紧的一件事。虽然他们已经找出基地上每一个同谋;虽然已经盯上了她的父亲,然而她却不能,也不敢冒险发出任何警告。即使为了整个端点星,她也不能冒着自己生命的危险——绝对不可以。因为,她现在是银河中最重要的人物,不,应该说是银河中惟一重要的人物。 当她站在售票机前,考虑着自己该何去何从的时候,她就已经明白了这一点。 因为放眼整个银河,除了“他们”那些人之外就只有她——就她一个人——知道第二基地究竟位在何处。 Chapter 9 Through the Grid TRANTOR By the middle of the Interregnum, Trantor was a shadow. In the midst of the colossal ruins, there lived a small community of farmers.... ENCYCLOPEDIA GALACTICA There is nothing, never has been anything, quite like a busy spaceport on the outskirts of a capital city of a populous planet. There are the huge machines resting mightily in their cradles. If you choose your time properly, there is the impressive sight of the sinking giant dropping to rest or, more hair-raising still, the swiftening departure of a bubble of steel. All processes involved are nearly noiseless. The motive power is the silent surge of nucleons shifting into more compact arrangements In terms of area, ninety-five percent of the port has just been referred to. Square miles are reserved for the machines, and for the men who serve them and for the calculators that serve both. Only five percent of the port is given over to the floods of humanity to whom it is the way station to all the stars of the Galaxy. It is certain that very few of the anonymous many-headed stop to consider the technological mesh that knits the spaceways. Perhaps some of them might itch occasionally at the thought of the thousands of tons represented by the sinking steel that looks so small off in the distance. One of those cyclopean cylinders could, conceivably, miss the guiding beam and crash half a mile from its expected landing point ?through the glassite roof of the immense waiting room perhaps ?so that only a thin organic vapor and some powdered phosphates would be left behind to mark the passing of a thousand men. It could never happen, however, with the safety devices in use; and only the badly neurotic would consider the possibility for more than a moment. Then what do they think about? It is not just a crowd, you see. It is a crowd with a purpose. That purpose hovers over the field and thickens the atmosphere. Lines queue up; parents herd their children; baggage is maneuvered in precise masses ?people are going somewheres. Consider then the complete psychic isolation of a single unit of this terribly intent mob that does not know where to go; yet at the same time feels more intensely than any of the others possibly can, the necessity of going somewheres; anywhere! Or almost anywhere! Even lacking telepathy or any of the crudely definite methods of mind touching mind, there is a sufficient clash in atmosphere, in intangible mood, to suffice for despair. To suffice? To overflow, and drench, and drown. Arcadia Darell, dressed in borrowed clothes, standing on a borrowed planet in a borrowed situation of what seemed even to be a borrowed life, wanted earnestly the safety of the womb. She didn't know that was what she wanted. She only knew that the very openness of the open world was a great danger. She wanted a closed spot somewhere ?somewhere far ?somewhere in an unexplored nook of the universe ?where no one would ever look. And there she was, age fourteen plus, weary enough for eighty plus, frightened enough for five minus. What stranger of the hundreds that brushed past her ?actually brushed past her, so that she could feel their touch ?was a Second Foundationer? What stranger could not help but instantly destroy her for her guilty knowledge ?her unique knowledge ?of knowing where the Second Foundation was? And the voice that cut in on her was a thunderclap that iced the scream in her throat into a voiceless slash. "Look, miss," it said, irritably, "are you using the ticket machine or are you just standing there?" It was the first she realized that she was standing in front of a ticket machine. You put a high denomination bill into the clipper which sank out of sight. You pressed the button below your destination and a ticket came out together with the correct change as determined by an electronic scanning device that never made a mistake. It was a very ordinary thing and there is no cause for anyone to stand before it for five minutes. Arcadia plunged a two-hundred credit into the clipper, and was suddenly aware of the button labeled "Trantor." Trantor, dead capital of the dead Empire ?the planet on which she was born. She pressed it in a dream. Nothing happened, except that the red letters flicked on and off, reading 172.18?1111111111.18? It was the amount she was short. Another two-hundred credit. The ticket was spit out towards her. It came loose when she touched it, and the change tumbled out afterward. She seized it and ran. She felt the man behind her pressing close, anxious for his own chance at the machine, but she twisted out from before him and did not look behind. Yet there was nowhere to run. They were all her enemies. Without quite realizing it, she was watching the gigantic, glowing signs that puffed into the air: Steffani, Anacreon, Fermus?There was even one that ballooned, Terminus, and she longed for it, but did not dare? For a trifling sum, she could have hired a notifier which could have been set for any destination she cared and which would, when placed in her purse, make itself heard only to her, fifteen minutes before take-off time. But such devices are for people who are reasonably secure, however; who can pause to think of them. And then, attempting to look both ways simultaneously, she ran head-on into a soft abdomen. She felt the startled outbreath and grunt, and a hand come down on her arm. She writhed desperately but lacked breath to do more than mew a bit in the back of her throat. Her captor held her firmly and waited. Slowly, he came into focus for her and she managed to look at him. He was rather plump and rather short. His hair was white and copious, being brushed back to give a pompadour effect that looked strangely incongruous above a round and ruddy face that shrieked its peasant origin. "What's the matter?" he said finally, with a frank and twinkling curiosity. "You look scared." "Sorry," muttered Arcadia in a frenzy. "I抳e got to go. Pardon me." But he disregarded that entirely, and said, "Watch out, little girl. You'll drop your ticket." And he lifted it from her resistless white fingers and looked at it with every evidence of satisfaction. "I thought so," he said, and then bawled in bull-like tones, "Mommuh!" A woman was instantly at his side, somewhat more short, somewhat more round, somewhat more ruddy. She wound a finger about a stray gray lock to shove it beneath a well-outmoded hat. "Pappa," she said, reprovingly, "why do you shout in a crowd like that? People look at you like you were crazy. Do you think you are on the farm?" And she smiled sunnily at the unresponsive Arcadia, and added, "He has manners like a bear." Then, sharply, "Pappa, let go the little girl. What are you doing?" But Pappa simply waved the ticket at her. "Look," he said, "she's going to Trantor." Mamma's face was a sudden beam, "You're from Trantor? Let go her arm, I say, Pappa." She turned the overstuffed valise she was carrying onto its side and forced Arcadia to sit down with a gentle but unrelenting pressure. "Sit down," she said, "and rest your little feet. It will be no ship yet for an hour and the benches are crowded with sleeping loafers. You are from Trantor?" Arcadia drew a deep breath and gave in. Huskily, she said, "I was born there." And Mamma clapped her hands gleefully, "One month we've been here and till now we met nobody from home. This is very nice. Your parents? she looked about vaguely. "I'm not with my parents," Arcadia said, carefully. "All alone? A little girl like you?" Mamma was at once a blend of indignation and sympathy, "How does that come to be?" "Mamma," Pappa plucked at her sleeve, "let me tell you. There's something wrong. I think she's frightened." His voice, though obviously intended for a whisper was quite plainly audible to Arcadia. "She was running ?I was watching her ?and not looking where she was going. Before I could step out of the way, she bumped into me. And you know what? I think she's in trouble." "So shut your mouth, Pappa. Into you, anybody could bump." But she joined Arcadia on the valise, which creaked wearily under the added weight and put an arm about the girl's trembling shoulder. "You're running away from somebody, sweetheart? Don't be afraid to tell me. III help you." Arcadia looked across at the kind gray eyes of the woman and felt her lips quivering. One part of her brain was telling her that here were people from Trantor, with whom she could go, who could help her remain on that planet until she could decide what next to do, where next to go. And another part of her brain, much the louder, was telling her in jumbled incoherence that she did not remember her mother, that she was weary to death of fighting the universe, that she wanted only to curl into a little hall with strong, gentle arms about her, that if her mother had lived, she might ... she might? And for the first time that night, she was crying; crying like a little baby, and glad of it; clutching tightly at the old-fashioned dress and dampening a corner of it thoroughly, while soft arms held her closely and a gentle hand stroked her curls. Pappa stood helplessly looking at the pair, fumbling futilely for a handkerchief which, when produced, was snatched from his hand. Mamma glared an admonition of quietness at him. The crowds surged about the little group with the true indifference of disconnected crowds everywhere. They were effectively alone. Finally, the weeping trickled to a halt, and Arcadia smiled weakly as she dabbed at red eyes with the borrowed handkerchief. "Golly," she whispered, "Shh. Shh. Don't talk," said Mamma, fussily, "just sit and rest for a while. Catch your breath. Then tell us what's wrong, and you'll see, we'll fix it up, and everything will be all right." Arcadia scrabbled what remained of her wits together. She could not tell them the truth. She could tell nobody the truth?And yet she was too worn to invent a useful lie. She said, whisperingly, "I'm better, now." "Good," said Mamma. "Now tell me why you抮e in trouble. You did nothing wrong? Of course, whatever you did, well help you; but tell us the truth." "For a friend from Trantor, anything," added Pappa, expansively, "eh, Mamma?" "Shut your mouth, Pappa," was the response, without rancor. Arcadia was groping in her purse. That, at least, was still hers, despite the rapid clothes-changing forced upon her in Lady Callia's apartments. She found what she was looking for and handed it to Mamma. "These are my papers," she said, diffidently. It was shiny, synthetic parchment which had been issued her by the Foundation's ambassador on the day of her arrival and which had been countersigned by the appropriate Kalganian official. It was large, florid, and impressive. Mamma looked at it helplessly, and passed it to Pappa who absorbed its contents with an impressive pursing of the lips. He said, "You're from the Foundation?" "Yes. But I was born in Trantor. See it says that? "Ah-hah. It looks all right to me. You're named Arcadia, eh? That's a good Trantorian name. But where's your uncle? It says here you came in the company of Homir Munn, uncle." "He's been arrested," said Arcadia, drearily. "Arrested!" ?from the two of them at once. "What for?" asked Mamma. "He did something?" She shook her head. "I don't know. We were just on a visit. Uncle Homir had business with Lord Stettin but? She needed no effort to act a shudder. It was there. Pappa was impressed. "With Lord Stettin. Mm-mmm, your uncle must be a big man." "I don't know what it was all about, but Lord Stettin wanted me to stay? She was recalling the last words of Lady Callia, which had been acted out for her benefit. Since Callia, as she now knew, was an expert, the story could do for a second time. She paused, and Mamma said interestedly, "And why you?" "I'm not sure. He ... he wanted to have dinner with me all alone, but I said no, because I wanted Uncle Homir along. He looked at me funny and kept holding my shoulder." Pappa's mouth was a little open, but Mamma was suddenly red and angry. "How old are you, Arcadia?" "Fourteen and a half, almost." Mamma drew a sharp breath and said, "That such people should be let live. The dogs in the streets are better. You're running from him, dear, is not?" Arcadia nodded. Mamma said, "Pappa, go right to Information and find out exactly when the ship to Trantor comes to berth. Hurry!" But Pappa took one step and stopped. Loud metallic words were booming overhead, and five thousand pairs of eyes looked startledly upwards. "Men and women," it said, with sharp force. "The airport is being searched for a dangerous fugitive, and it is now surrounded. No one can enter and no one can leave. The search will, however, be conducted with great speed and no ships will reach or leave berth during the interval, so you will not miss your ship. I repeat, no one will miss his ship. The grid will descend. None of you will move outside your square until the grid is removed, as otherwise we will be forced to use our neuronic whips." During the minute or less in which the voice dominated the vast dome of the spaceport's waiting room, Arcadia could not have moved if all the evil in the Galaxy had concentrated itself into a ball and hurled itself at her. They could mean only her. It was not even necessary to formulate that idea as a specific thought. But why? Callia had engineered her escape. And Callia was of the Second Foundation. Why, then, the search now? Had Callia failed? Could Callia fail? Or was this part of the plan, the intricacies of which escaped her? For a vertiginous moment, she wanted to jump up and shout that she gave up, that she would go with them, that ... that? But Mamma's hand was on her wrist. "Quick! Well go to the lady's room before they start." Arcadia did not understand. She merely followed blindly. They oozed through the crowd, frozen as it was into clumps, with the voice still booming through its last words. The grid was descending now, and Pappa, openmouthed, watched it come down. He had heard of it and read of it, but had never actually been the object of it. It glimmered in the air, simply a series of cross-hatched and tight radiation-beams that set the air aglow in a harmless network of flashing light. It always was so arranged as to descend slowly from above in order that it might represent a falling net with all the terrific psychological implications of entrapment. It was at waist-level now, ten feet between glowing lines in each direction. In his own hundred square feet, Pappa found himself alone, yet the adjoining squares were crowded. He felt himself conspicuously isolated but knew that to move into the greater anonymity of a group would have meant crossing one of those glowing lines, stirring an alarm, and bringing down the neuronic whip. He waited. He could make out over the heads of the eerily quiet and waiting mob, the far-off stir that was the line of policemen covering the vast floor area, lighted square by lighted square. It was a long time before a uniform stepped into his square and carefully noted its co-ordinates into an official notebook. "Papers!" Pappa handed them over, and they were flipped through in expert fashion. "You're Preem Palver, native of Trantor, on Kalgan for a month, returning to Trantor. Answer, yes or no." "Yes, yes." "What's your business on Kalgan?" "I'm trading representative of our farm co-operative. I've been negotiating terms with the Department of Agriculture on Kalgan. "Um-mmm. Your wife is with you? Where is she? She is mentioned in your papers." "Please. My wife is in the? He pointed. "Hanto," roared the policeman. Another uniform joined him. The first one said, dryly, "Another dame in the can, by the Galaxy. The place must be busting with them. Write down her name." He indicated the entry in the papers which gave it. "Anyone else with you?" "My niece." "She's not mentioned in the papers." "She came separately." "Where is she? Never mind, I know. Write down the niece's name, too, Hanto. What's her name? Write down Arcadia Palver. You stay right here, Palver. We'll take care of the women before we leave." Pappa waited interminably. And then, long, long after, Mamma was marching toward him, Arcadia's hand firmly in hers, the two policemen trailing behind her. They entered Pappa's square, and one said, "Is this noisy old woman your wife?" "Yes, sir," said Pappa, placatingly. "Then you'd better tell her she's liable to get into trouble if she talks the way she does to the First Citizen's police." He straightened his shoulders angrily. "Is this your niece?" "Yes, sir." "I want her papers." Looking straight at her husband, Mamma slightly, but no less firmly, shook her head. A short pause, and Pappa said with a weak smile, "I don't think I can do that." "What do you mean you can't do that?" The policeman thrust out a hard palm. "Hand it over." "Diplomatic immunity," said Pappa, softly. "What do you mean?" "I said I was trading representative of my farm co-operative. I'm accredited to the Kalganian government as an official foreign representative and my papers prove it. I showed them to you and now I don't want to be bothered any more." For a moment, the policeman was taken aback. "I got to see your papers. It's orders." "You go away," broke in Mamma, suddenly. "When we want you, we'll send for you, you ... you bum." The policeman's lips tightened. "Keep your eye on them, Hanto. I'll get the lieutenant." "Break a leg!" called Mamma after him. Someone laughed, and then choked it off suddenly. The search was approaching its end. The crowd was growing dangerously restless. Forty-five minutes had elapsed since the grid had started falling and that is too long for best effects. Lieutenant Dirige threaded his way hastily, therefore, toward the dense center of the mob. "Is this the girl?" he asked wearily. He looked at her and she obviously fitted the description. All this for a child. He said, "Her papers, if you please?" Pappa began, "I have already explained? "I know what you have explained, and I'm sorry," said the lieutenant, "but I have my orders, and I can't help them. If you care to make a protest later, you may. Meanwhile, if necessary, I must use force." There was a pause, and the lieutenant waited patiently. Then Pappa said, huskily, "Give me your papers, Arcadia." Arcadia shook her head in panic, but Pappa nodded his head. "Don't be afraid. Give them to me." Helplessly she reached out and let the documents change hands. Pappa fumbled them open and looked carefully through them, then handed them over. The lieutenant in his turn looked through them carefully. For a long moment, he raised his eyes to rest them on Arcadia, and then he closed the booklet with a sharp snap. "All in order," he said. "All right, men." He left, and in two minutes, scarcely more, the grid was gone, and the voice above signified a back-to-normal. The noise of the crowd, suddenly released, rose high. Arcadia said: "How ... how? Pappa said, "Sh-h. Don't say a word. Let's better go to the ship. It should be in the berth soon." They were on the ship. They had a private stateroom and a table to themselves in the dining room. Two light-years already separated them from Kalgan, and Arcadia finally dared to broach the subject again. She said, "But they were after me, Mr. Palver, and they must have had my description and all the details. Why did he let me go?" And Pappa smiled broadly over his roast beef. "Well, Arcadia, child, it was easy. When you've been dealing with agents and buyers and competing co-operatives, you learn some of the tricks. I've had twenty years or more to learn them in. You see, child, when the lieutenant opened your papers, he found a five hundred credit bill inside, folded up small. Simple, no?" "I抣l pay you back?Honest, I've got lots of money." "Well," Pappa's broad face broke into an embarrassed smile, as he waved it away. "For a country-woman? Arcadia desisted. "But what if he'd taken the money and turned me in anyway. And accused me of bribery." "And give up five hundred credits? I know these people better than you do, girl." But Arcadia knew that he did not know people better. Not these people. In her bed that night, she considered carefully, and knew that no bribe would have stopped a police lieutenant in the matter of catching her unless that had been planned. They didn't want to catch her, yet had made every motion of doing so, nevertheless. Why? To make sure she left? And for Trantor? Were the obtuse and soft-hearted couple she was with now only a pair of tools in the hands of the Second Foundation, as helpless as she herself? They must be! Or were they? It was all so useless. How could she fight them. Whatever she did, it might only be what those terrible omnipotents wanted her to do. Yet she had to outwit them. Had to. Had to! Had to!! 第九章 天罗地网   太空航站位于这个人口众多的行星首都郊外,这种星际间的交通枢纽,总是呈现出银河中独一无二的繁忙与壮观。许多巨型太空船安稳地停驻在起落架上,如果时间算得准的话,就能够看到太空船降落的壮观镜头,而升空的场面更是令人叹为观止。太空船的动力由核子重组的反应所提供,所以此起彼落的过程一律都是静寂无声。 整个太空航站的面积,有百分之九十五是上述的起降停泊区。在这许多平方英里的范围内,只能见到各型各式的太空船、空勤与地动工作人员,以及太空船与工作人员都得用到的计算机。 只有在另外百分之五的范围内,才能看到拥挤的人潮。每个人来到这个交通转运站的目的,不外是想要前往另一个星体。绝对可以确定的一点是,在这些熙来攘往的人群中,很少会有人驻足沉思构成整个太空交通网的科技。也许有些人偶尔会想到,远方那些正在缓缓落下的金属体,看起来虽然十分微小,其实都有好几千吨重。这些巨大的金属圆柱体,每一个都可能意外地与导航电波失去联系,因而坠毁在预定着陆地点半英里之外;或许刚好会穿透候船大厦的广阔玻璃屋顶,造成上千人丧命的悲剧——而他们的“残骸”,大概只是一些稀薄的有机气体,以及碎成粉末的硫化物。 事实上,由于如今的安全设施极为完善,这种意外绝对不可能发生。只有神经严重过敏的人,才会有这种杞人忧天的想法。 那么,他们心中究竟在想些什么呢?别忘了一件事,这一大群人都有一个共同的目的,这个目的充塞在整个太空航站中,形成了一种特殊的氛围。大家排成一列列的队伍,父母亲牵着小孩子,行李堆成一座座整齐的小山——大家都想尽快到达自己的目的地。 在这些除了目的地之外,没有其他念头的众多旅客当中,此时出现了一个完全孤独的心灵,根本不知道该何去何从,却又比周围任何人都更急于离开此地,更渴望能立刻到别处去。任何地方都好!或者应该说,几乎任何地方都好! 此地有一种浓厚的紧张气氛,一种无形的压力。虽然她没有精神感应力,也完全不懂得如何接触他人的心灵,这种气氛与压力也足以令她感到绝望。 只是“足以”而已吗?根本就是太多、太大、太强了。她感到全身都浸淫在绝望的情绪中,整个人都被绝望淹没。 艾嘉蒂娅•达瑞尔,如今穿着别人的衣服,站在别人的行星上,处于原本应该是别人的处境,甚至连小命都几乎抓在别人手上。她心中渴望找到一个安全的窝,可是却连自己的渴望都已无法体会,只知道如今赤裸裸地暴露在这个世界上,实在是最危险不过的。她想找一个隐密的地方——越远越好——最好是某个人迹未至的宇宙洪荒地带,没有任何人能找得到的地方。 现在她站在那里,虽然只有十四岁多一点,感觉却像八十几岁的老太婆一般疲惫。而她心中的恐惧,却又使她像不到五岁的幼儿那般无助。 至少有数百名旅客与她擦身而过——真正地擦身而过,她感觉碰触到了每一个人。在这些陌生人当中,哪一个是第二基地分子呢?哪一个陌生人必须立刻置她于死地,只因为她心中怀着那个不该知晓的秘密?那个秘密只有她一个人知道,只有她才知道第二基地的下落。 她就要忍不住尖叫出声时,突然听见一个雷鸣般的声音。那声尖叫因此冻结在喉咙里,化成一阵无声的痛楚。 “喂喂,小姐,”后面那人凶巴巴地说:“你到底是要买票,还是只想站在售票机前面?” 直到这一刻,她才发现自己早已站在一台售票机前。这种机器的使用方法相当简单,只要将一张高面额的纸钞塞进送币槽,等到钞票被吸进去之后,再按下标示着目的地的按键,售票机就会吐出一张船票,并且自动找回多余的钱。这种机器以电子扫瞄装置辨识钞票面额,因此绝对不会发生错误。像这么普通的自动售票机,谁也不需要花上五分钟来研究。 艾嘉蒂娅赶紧将一张二百元的钞票塞进送币槽,转眼刚好瞥见那个标示着“川陀”的按键。川陀,她想,那个逝去帝国的昔日首都——自己的出生地。她不知不觉就按下了那个键,却不见有任何动静,只看到一排红字不停地闪着:一七二点一八……一七二点一八……一七二点一八…… 那是她还需要补足的钱数,于是她又急忙塞了二百元进去,机器马上吐出一张船票。她立刻将票抓在手上,此时零钱也跟着滚了出来。 她捞起零钱,准备拔腿就跑,却感到后面那人迫不及待地向前挤来。于是她赶紧一转身,从那人身前硬穿过去,头也不回地跑开了。 可是她根本无处可逃,似乎每一个人都是她的敌人。 她抬起头来,看着闪烁在空气中的巨大标志,心中却是一片茫然——“史蒂凡尼”、“安纳克瑞昂”、“费玛斯”,甚至还有一个“端点星”的字样飘浮在空中。她多么渴望回到那里去,但是却又不敢…… 其实,她只要花一点点钱,便能租到一个通报器。这种通报器可以放在皮包里,只要预先将目的地键入,就会在太空船起飞前一刻钟发出通报。然而,由于艾嘉蒂娅感到危机四伏,根本无暇想到这种装置。 她同时张望着左右两侧,却忘记了顾及正前方,结果一不小心,就跟一个柔软的肚皮撞个正着。她立时听到一声惊叫,然后又传来了一声呻吟,臂膀就被对方的手掌给抓住了。她拼命想要挣脱,却使不出半分气力,只能在喉咙中发出小猫似的叫声。 那人紧紧抓着她,却没有什么进一步的动作。过了好一会儿,她才看清了眼前的景象。她鼓起勇气凝视对方,那是一个又矮又眫的中年男子,满头浓密的白发整整齐齐地往后梳成一个高贵的发型,看起来跟他的面容极不相称。他的脸庞又红又圆,谁都能一眼就看出他是一名农夫。 “怎么回事?”他终于开了口,语气中显然带着些微的好奇,“你看起来似乎很害怕。” “对不起,”艾嘉蒂娅吓得六神无主,只能结结巴巴地说,“我得走了,真抱歉。” 不过对方却完全没有理会她说什么,他又说:“当心点,小丫头,别把船票给弄丢了。” 说完,他就把那张票从她苍白无力的手指间取过来,看了一眼之后,竟露出了明显的满意神色。 “我果然没料错,”接着,他突然用公牛般的嗓门吼道,“妈妈!” 一位妇人立刻出现在他身旁,看起来比他更矮、更圆,而且脸色更红润。她正用一根手指缠着一缕灰发,想将它塞回那顶早已过时的帽子底下。 “爸爸,”她用责备的口气说:“你为什么在公共场所大吼大叫,人家都把你当疯子啦。你以为这里是你的农场吗?” 她对木然的艾嘉蒂娅露出一个快活的笑容,又说:“他粗鲁得像只狗熊。” 然后她又改用严厉的口吻说:“爸爸,让这女孩走,你这到底是干嘛?” “爸爸”却只向她挥挥手中的那张票,再对她说:“你看,她要到川陀去。” “妈妈”立刻露出一个微笑:“你是打川陀来的?把她的手臂放开,听到没,爸爸。” 说完,她就把塞得鼓鼓的旅行箱放倒,再用双手轻轻按着艾嘉蒂娅的肩膀,硬要她坐在那个旅行箱上,还一面说:“坐下来,好好歇歇两只小脚丫。长椅都给那些懒鬼占去睡觉了,太空船却一小时后才会起飞。你是从川陀来的?” 艾嘉蒂娅深呼吸了一口气,终于不再挣扎。她用沙哑的声音答道:“我是在那里出生的。” “妈妈”高兴得不停拍手:“我们到这里一个月,一直都没有碰到老乡。这真是太好啦,你的爸妈……”说到这里,她抬起头来一阵张望。 “我不是跟父母一起来的。”艾嘉蒂娅小心谨慎地说。 “就你自己一个人来的?像你这样一个小丫头?”“妈妈”立时露出既愤怒又心疼的表情,“怎么会这样呢?” “妈妈,”“爸爸”猛扯着她的袖子,对她说,“我来告诉你,事情有点不对劲,我觉得她很害怕。”虽然他故意压低了声音,艾嘉蒂娅仍旧能听得一清二楚。 “她一路跑过来——我一直看着她——可是她的眼睛根本没在看路。我还没来得及让路之前,她就一头撞在我身上了。你知道吗?我认为她一定有什么麻烦。” “闭上你的嘴巴,爸爸,你挡在路中间,什么人都会撞上你的肚子。”说完,她一屁股坐到艾嘉蒂娅的旁边,把旅行箱压得吱嘎作响。然后她用手臂搂着女孩发颤的肩膀,问道,“你在逃避什么人吗,小可爱?尽管对我说,我会帮助你的。” 艾嘉蒂娅盯着那双慈祥亲切的灰眼珠,感觉自己的嘴唇不停地打颤。她想,他们是从川陀来的,自己可以跟他们一起走,他们能帮助自己留在那个世界,直到她决定下一步的行动,以及下一个目的地为止。可是在她心中,又出现了另一个更响亮的声音,提醒她许多杂乱无章的事实——她不记得母亲的模样……她正在单枪匹马对抗整个宇宙,几乎已经筋疲力尽……她只想将身子蜷缩成一团,躲在一双强壮温柔的臂膀中……如果母亲今天还活着,她就可以……可以…… 她终于哭了出来,那是当天晚上她首度落泪。她哭得像个婴儿,却也哭得舒畅无比。她使劲揪着“妈妈”那件老式的衣服,还弄湿了好大一片。一双嫩的手臂始终紧紧搂着她,还不停地轻抚着她的鬈发。 “爸爸”站在那里,手足无措地看着她们两人,惟一能做的就是赶紧掏手帕。 他在身上摸索半天,才刚把手帕掏出来,就立刻被“妈妈”抢走。“妈妈”瞪了他一眼,示意他不要再多话。许多旅客从他们身边绕过去,大家都只顾着赶路,完全没有注意到这三个人,根本就当他们不存在。 最后,艾嘉蒂娅终于停止哭泣。她用那条手帕轻轻拭着红肿的眼睛,同时露出一个微弱的笑容。 “天哪,”她轻声地说,“我……” “嘘——嘘——别说话。”“妈妈”用大惊小怪的语气说道,“坐者好好休息一下,把呼吸调匀,然后再告诉我们到底出了什么差错。你等着看,我们会帮你解决,然后一切都会没事的。” 艾嘉蒂垭勉强集中思绪,试图凑出个点子——她知道自己不能告诉他们实话,任何人都不能说:可是她又太疲倦了,无法编出一个天衣无缝的谎言。 于是,她只好细声地说:“我现在感觉好多了。” “很好,”“妈妈”说,“现在告诉我们,你到底有什么麻烦。你做错了什么事吗?当然,不管你做了什么,我们都会帮你,不过你要告诉我们实话。” “你是川陀来的同胞,任何事情我们都能帮忙,”“爸爸”以慷慨激昂的语气补充道,“对不对,妈妈?” “闭上你的嘴,爸爸。”这是“妈妈”的回答。虽然口气那么硬,她却根本没有动气。 艾嘉蒂娅把手伸进皮包里头——虽然刚才在嘉丽贵妇的闺房,她不得不在慌乱中换掉衣服,但是她自己的皮包还留在身边。她摸到了想要找的东西,然后将它递给“妈妈”。 “这是我的证件。”她怯生生地说——那是一张闪亮的合成丰皮纸,是在她到达此地的那一天,由基地大使所签发的,上面还有卡尔根官员的副署。这份证件的式样又大又华丽,看起来十分抢眼。“妈妈”看不出所以然来,只好将它递给“爸爸”;“爸爸”仔细地看了又看,然后不由自主地噘起嘴来。 他问:“你是从基地来的?” “是的,不过我生在川陀。你看上面写着……” “啊哈,我看是没错。你名叫艾嘉蒂娅,是吗?那是一个很好听的川陀名字。可是你的叔叔呢?上面说你是跟叔叔一块来的,他叫作侯密尔•孟恩。” “他被捕了。”艾嘉蒂娅用悲凄的语调说。 “被捕了!为什么?”两个人异口同声叫道。然后“妈妈”又加了一句:“他干了什么事吗?” 艾嘉蒂娅摇摇头,回答说:“我不知道,我只是来观光的。侯密尔叔叔有事求见史铁亭统领,可是……”她根本不需要假装发抖,因为她真的感到恐惧。 “爸爸”听了马上肃然起敬:“求见史铁亭统领,嗯——你叔叔一定是个大人物。” “我根本不知道究竟是怎么回事,可是史铁亭统领要我留下来……”她想起了嘉丽贵妇最后说的那番话,虽然那是嘉丽自导自演的一出戏,现在既然知道她是这方面的专家,那个故事当然可以借用一下。 她故意停了下来,“妈妈”很好奇地问:“为什么要你留下呢?” “我也不明白,他……他要和我单独晚餐,但是我说不要,因为我要侯密尔叔叔也参加。他用古怪的眼光瞪着我,还抓住我的肩膀不放。” 听到这里,“爸爸”微微张开嘴巴,“妈妈”却突然变得面红耳赤,而且火冒三丈。她说:“你多大啦,艾嘉蒂娅?” “十四岁半,其实还差一点点。” “妈妈”猛吸了一口气,然后说:“那种人竟然还没遭天打雷劈,街头的野狗都比他强。你就是在逃避他,亲爱的孩子,是不?” 艾嘉蒂娅点点头。 于是“妈妈”说:“爸爸,马上到询问台去,问问去川陀的太空船什么时候到站。赶快!” 不过“爸爸”才刚迈出一步,马上又停了下来。因为头上传来一阵震耳欲聋的声音,至少吸引了五千双眼睛慌张地抬头张望。 “各位旅客,”那是一个严厉、冷酷而有力的声音,“太空航站潜入了一名危险的逃犯,我们已经封锁现场,正在进行地毯式的搜索。搜索会以最有效率的方式迅速进行,在此期间,任何人都不准进出,也不会有任何太空船起降,所以谁都不会误了行程。我再重复一遍,谁都不会误了行程。光栅马上就要放下来,每个人都不许离开自己的格子,直到光栅解除为止。如果有人违反的话,我们将被迫使用神经鞭。” 那个声音大约持续了近一分钟,偌大的候船大厦没有任何其他动静。此时,即使是整个银河都塌下来,艾嘉蒂娅也绝不敢挪动一根汗毛。 所谓逃犯一定就是指她,这是根本不用思考就能达到的结论。但是为什么……嘉丽策动她逃了出来,而嘉丽是第二基地的特务,那么,为什么现在又要搜捕她呢?嘉丽的行动失败了吗?嘉丽可能会失败吗?抑或这也是计划的一部分,只是她无法理解这个复杂的安排? 她感到一阵头昏眼花,差点想要跳出去,大声喊道她认输了,她愿意被他们带走,她……她…… 还好“妈妈”的手及时抓住她的手腕,对她说:“快!快!趁他们还没有开始搜查,我们赶快躲进女厕去。” 艾嘉蒂娅心中一片茫然,只是盲目地跟着她走。她们挤过了无数呆若木鸡的人群,此时那个广播才终于结束。 接着,光栅就开始降下来。“爸爸”张大了嘴,目不转睛地看着整个过程,他以前曾经听说过,也在书报中读到过这种阵仗,可是自己从来未曾亲身体验。所谓的“光栅”,是辐射光束织成的一个纵横交错的光网,将空间分隔成许多整齐的方格。由于光束能量很低,所以不会对人体造成任何伤害。 每次施用这种光栅时,照例总是缓缓由天而降,仿佛是一张扑天盖地的巨网,令人产生一种陷入天罗地网的恐怖错觉。 光栅在齐腰的高度固定住,形成无数边长十尺的闪烁正方格子。“爸爸”身处的那一百平方尺中,刚好没有其他人,可是周围的几个方格却相当拥挤。他感到独处一个方格实在太过显眼,不过也不敢擅自移动。因为他知道,如果想钻入其他方格的人群里面,一定至少会碰触到一条光束,那样便会立刻触动警铃,而神经鞭将跟着击下。 他只好耐心地等待。 他的目光掠过满怀恐惧、默默等待的人群,看到了远方的一阵骚动,知道那代表警察正在该处进行盘查。他们将要一个一个方格查过来,不会放过任何一处。 等了好久之后,才有一名警员走进他的方格中,仔细将这个格子的坐标写在登记簿上。 “证件!” “爸爸”把证件递给他,警员以熟练的手法迅速翻阅着。 “你叫普芮姆•帕佛,川陀人,在卡尔根待了一个月,现在要回川陀去——回答我,对不对?” “是的,是的。” “你到卡尔根来干什么?” “我是我们那个农产品合作社的贸易代表,到这里是为了来跟卡尔根农业部洽谈一些生意。” “嗯——你的妻子跟你一起来?你的证件上这么写的,她在哪里?” “对不起,内人在——”他伸手指了指。 “汉特,”那名警员吼道。不久之后,他身边又出现了另一名警员。 原先那名警员用讽刺的口吻说:“这里又有一个女人躲进厕所了,银河在上,那地方一定快被她们挤爆啦——把她的名字记下来。”他顺手指了一下证件的配偶栏。“还有什么人跟你在一起?” “我的侄女。” “证件上面没有提到她。” “我们原本不是一块来的。” “她现在又到哪里去了?不用说啦,我知道,把他侄女的名字也记下来,汉特。她叫什么名字?写下来:艾嘉蒂娅•帕佛。你乖乖待在这里,帕佛,我们会把那两个女人找回来。” “爸爸”感觉好像过了很久很久,才看到“妈妈”向他走来。艾嘉蒂娅的手仍被她紧紧抓住,她们身后则尾随着那两名警员。 一行人走进“爸爸”的方格内,其中一名警员问道:“这个聒噪的老太婆就是你太太吗?” “是的,长官。”“爸爸”陪着笑脸答道。 “那么你最好警告她,如果她继续对第一公民的警察那样说话,就会吃不了兜着走。”然后他一挺胸,气呼呼地说:“这是你的侄女吗?” “是的,长官。” “我要看她的证件。” “妈妈”直勾勾地瞪着丈夫,缓缓地、坚决地摇了摇头。 沉默了一会儿之后,“爸爸”带着勉强的笑容说:“这点恐怕恕难从命。” “你说恕难从命是什么意思?”警员猛地向他伸出手来,凶巴巴地说,“快点交出来。” “我们有外交豁免权。”“爸爸”用温和的语气答道。 “那又是什么意思?” “我说过,我是我们那个农产品合作社的贸易代表,卡尔根政府认定我具有外交人员的身份,这一点在证件上写得很明白。我已经将我的证件拿给你们看过了,现在我不想再受到任何骚扰。” 那名警员似乎吃了一惊,顿了一顿才又开口:“我必须要看她的证件,我是奉命行事。” “你走开,”“妈妈”突然插嘴道:“我们需要找你的时候,自然会叫你来。你……你这个无赖。” 警员噘了噘嘴唇,然后转头说:“好好看牢他们,汉特,我去找副队长来。” “你马上摔断一条腿!”“妈妈”在他身后大叫。有些人忍不住笑了出来,可是又赶紧闭上嘴。 现在搜索行动接近了尾声,人群中开始出现不安的骚动。从光栅开始降下到现在,已经过了四十五分钟,就预定的效率而言,这显然拖得太久了。因此,迪瑞吉副队长急急忙忙穿过拥挤的人群,向这个方向快步走了过来。 “就是这个女孩吗?”他不耐烦地问道。然后他盯着艾嘉蒂娅仔细看了看,发现她果然符合命令中的描述——如此大费周章,竟然只是为了这么一个孩子。 他说:“她的证件,请你交给我好吗?” “爸爸”答道:“我已经解释……” “我知道你刚才的解释,可是很抱歉,”副队长说,“我是奉命行事,这毫无回旋的余地。如果你想在事后提出抗议,随你的便。不过现在,如果有必要的话,我必须使用武力。” 接下来是一阵沉默,副队长耐着性子等待着。 然后“爸爸”突然以沙哑的声音说:“把你的证件给我,艾嘉蒂娅。” 艾嘉蒂娅吓得拼命摇头,可是“爸爸”却对她点点头,又说:“别害怕,把证件给我。” 她无可奈何,只好掏出证件来递给“爸爸”。“爸爸”把证件翻开,仔仔细细看了一遍,才将它交出去。副队长接过之后,也仔仔细细地看了一遍,然后抬起头来,对着艾嘉蒂娅凝视许久,才终于“啪”地一声把证件合上。 “证件完全齐备。”他说:“没事了,各位。” 说完他就带队离开。两分多钟之后,太空航站中的光栅解除了,同时头上传来一阵广播,宣布一切恢复正常。群众在重获自由之后,嘈杂的声音随即转趋沸腾。 艾嘉蒂娅问道:“怎么……怎么……” “爸爸”说:“嘘——什么都不要说。我们最好赶紧上船,太空船应该马上就到站了。” 他们在太空客船上拥有一间私人舱房,在餐厅中还有专用的餐桌。如今已经距离卡尔根有两光年之遥,艾嘉蒂娅终于鼓起勇气旧话重提。 她说:“可是他们要抓的就是我啊,帕佛先生,而且他们一定有我的形容和各种详细资料。为什么他会放我走呢?” “爸爸”正在享受一份红烧牛肉,他抬起头来,露出了灿烂的笑容:“这个嘛,艾嘉蒂娅,孩子,这实在很简单。一个人成天跟代理商、顾客们打交道,又得和其他的合作社竞争,自然就能学到不少门道,而本人已经累积了二十多年的经验。你可知道,孩子,当那个副队长打开你的证件时,他就发现里面夹着一张五百元的钞票,折叠成小小的一块。简单吧,对不?” “我会还你的……我是说真的,我身边有很多钱。” “算啦,”“爸爸”摇摇头,宽大的脸庞露出一个腼腆的笑容,又说:“为了自己的同胞……” 于是艾嘉蒂娅不再坚持,但又问道:“可是如果他把钱收下,却还是把我抓起来,然后再控告我行贿,那又该怎么办呢?” “放弃那五百元吗?我比你更了解这些人,小丫头。” 不过艾嘉蒂娅却知道他实在太过自信,至少对于“那些人”,他绝对没有自己那么了解。当天晚上,她躺在床上翻来覆去地想着,怎么想还是觉得不对劲——这个奉命追捕自己的副队长,绝不可能用几百元就能买通。除非这件事情也是早已计划好的,因为他们并不想抓到她,却又故意表现得尽了全力。 为什么呢?以便确定她会离开?离开卡尔根到川陀去?她结识的这两个头脑简单、心地善良的夫妇,难道也跟她一样无助,只是第二基地的工具吗? 他们一定是! 可是真的能够确定吗? 一切的努力似乎全都徒劳无功,她又怎能与他们对抗呢?不论她做出任何举动,都有可能是那些可怕而无所不能的人,故意设计要她那样做的。 但是她一定要设法以智取胜,一定要,一定要。一定要! Chapter 10 Beginning of War For reason or reasons unknown to members of the Galaxy at the time of the era under discussion, Intergalactic Standard Time defines its fundamental unit, the second, as the time in which light travels 299,776 kilometers. 86,400 seconds are arbitrarily set equal to one Intergalactic Standard Day; and 365 of these days to one Intergalactic Standard Year. Why 299,776??Or 86,400??Or 365? Tradition, says the historian, begging the question. Because of certain and various mysterious numerical relationships, say the mystics, cultists, numerologists, metaphysicists. Because the original home-planet of humanity had certain natural periods of rotation and revolution from which those relationships could be derived, say a very few. No one really knew. Nevertheless, the date on which the Foundation cruiser, the Hober Mallow met the Kalganian squadron, headed by the Fearless, and, upon refusing to allow a search party to board, was blasted into smoldering wreckage was 185; 11692 G.E. That is, it was the 185th day of the 11,692nd year of the Galactic Era which dated from the accession of the first Emperor of the traditional Kamble dynasty. It was also 185; 419 A.S. ?dating from the birth of Seldon ?or 185; 348 Y.F. ?dating from the establishment of the Foundation. On Kalgan it was 185; 56 F.C. ?dating from the establishment of the First Citizenship by the Mule. In each case, of course, for convenience, the year was so arranged as to yield the same day number regardless of the actual day upon which the era began. And, in addition, to all the millions of worlds of the Galaxy, there were millions of local times, based on the motions of their own particular heavenly neighbors. But whichever you choose: 185; 11692-419-348-56 ?or anything ?it was this day which historians later pointed to when they spoke of the start of the Stettinian war. Yet to Dr. Darell, it was none of these at all. It was simply and quite precisely the thirty-second day since Arcadia had left Terminus. What it cost Darell to maintain stolidity through these days was not obvious to everyone. But Elvett Semic thought he could guess. He was an old man and fond of saying that his neuronic sheaths had calcified to the point where his thinking processes were stiff and unwieldy. He invited and almost welcomed the universal underestimation of his decaying powers by being the first to laugh at them. But his eyes were none the less seeing for being faded; his mind none the less experienced and wise, for being no longer agile. He merely twisted his pinched lips and said, "Why don't you do something about it?" The sound was a physical jar to Darell, under which he winced. He said, gruffly, "Where weeeeee?" Semic regarded him with grave eyes. "You'd better do something about the girl." His sparse, yellow teeth showed in a mouth that was open in inquiry. But Darell replied coldly, "The question is: Can you get a Symes-Molff Resonator in the range required?" Well, I said I could and you weeen't listening? "I'm sorry, Elvett. It's like this. What we're doing now can be more important to everyone in the Galaxy than the question of whether Arcadia is safe. At least, to everyone but Arcadia and myself, and I'm willing to go along with the majority. How big would the Resonator be?" Semic looked doubtful, "I don't know. You can find it somewheres in the catalogues." "About how big. A ton? A pound? A block long?" "Oh, I thought you meant exactly. It's a little jigger." He indicated the first joint of his thumb. "About that." "All right, can you do something like this?" He sketched rapidly on the pad he held in his lap, then passed it over to the old physicist, who peered at it doubtfully, then chuckled. "Y'know, the brain gets calcified when you get as old as I am. What are you trying to do?" Darell hesitated. He longed desperately, at the moment, for the physical knowledge locked in the other's brain, so that he need not put his thought into words. But the longing was useless, and he explained. Semic was shaking his head. "You'd need hyper-relays. The only things that would work fast enough. A thundering lot of them." "But it can be built?" "Well, sure." "Can you get all the parts? I mean, without causing comment? In line with your general work." Semic lifted his upper lip. "Can't get fifty hyper-relays? I wouldn't use that many in my whole life." "We're on a defense project, now. Can't you think of something harmless that would use them? We've got the money." "Hm-mmm. Maybe I can think of something." "How small can you make the whole gadget?" "Hyper-relays can be had micro-size ... wiring ... tubes ?Space, you've got a few hundred circuits there." "I know. How big?" Semic indicated with his hands. "Too big," said Darell. "I've got to swing it from my belt" Slowly, he was crumpling his sketch into a tight ball. When it was a hard, yellow grape, he dropped it into the ash tray and it was gone with the tiny white flare of molecular decomposition. He said, "Who's at your door?" Semic leaned over his desk to the little milky screen above the door signal. He said, "The young fellow, Anthor. Someone with him, too." Darell scraped his chair back. "Nothing about this, Semic, to the others yet. It's deadly knowledge, if they find out, and two lives are enough to risk." Pelleas Anthor was a pulsing vortex of activity in Semic's office, which, somehow, managed to partake of the age of its occupant. In the slow turgor of the quiet room, the loose, summery sleeves of Anthor's tunic seemed still a-quiver with the outer breezes. He said, "Dr. Darell, Dr. Semic ?Orum Dirige." The other man was tall. A long straight nose that lent his thin face a saturnine appearance. Dr. Darell held out a hand. Anthor smiled slightly. "Police Lieutenant Dirige," he amplified. Then, significantly, "Of Kalgan." And Darell turned to stare with force at the young man. "Police Lieutenant Dirige of Kalgan," he repeated, distinctly. "And you bring him here. Why?" "Because he was the last man on Kalgan to see your daughter. Hold, man." Anthor's look of triumph was suddenly one of concern, and he was between the two, struggling violently with Darell. Slowly, and not gently, he forced the older man back into the chair. "What are you trying to do?" Anthor brushed a lock of brown hair from his forehead, tossed a hip lightly upon the desk, and swung a leg, thoughtfully. "I thought I was bringing you good news." Darell addressed the policeman directly, "What does he mean by calling you the last man to see my daughter? Is my daughter dead? Please tell me without preliminary." His face was white with apprehension. Lieutenant Dirige said expressionlessly, "慙ast man on Kalgan' was the phrase. She's not on Kalgan now. I have no knowledge past that." "Here," broke in Anthor, "let me put it straight. Sorry if I overplayed the drama a bit, Doc. You're so inhuman about this, I forget you have feelings. In the first place, Lieutenant Dirige is one of us. He was born on Kalgan, but his father was a Foundation man brought to that planet in the service of the Mule. I answer for the lieutenant's loyalty to the Foundation. "Now I was in touch with him the day after we stopped getting the daily report from Munn? "Why?" broke in Darell, fiercely. "I thought it was quite decided that we were not to make a move in the matter. You were risking their lives and ours." "Because," was the equally fierce retort, "I've been involved in this game for longer than you. Because I know of certain contacts on Kalgan of which you know nothing. Because I act from deeper knowledge, do you understand?" "I think you're completely mad." "Will you listen?" A pause, and Darell's eyes dropped. Anthor's lips quirked into a half smile, "All right, Doc. Give me a few minutes. Tell him, Dirige." Dirige spoke easily: "As far as I know, Dr. Darell, your daughter is at Trantor. At least, she had a ticket to Trantor at the Eastern Spaceport. She was with a Trading Representative from that planet who claimed she was his niece. Your daughter seems to have a queer collection of relatives, doctor. That was the second uncle she had in a period of two weeks, eh? The Trantorian even tried to bribe me ?probably thinks that's why they got away." He smiled grimly at the thought. "How was she?" "Unharmed, as far as I could see. Frightened. I don't blame her for that. The whole department was after her. I still don't know why." Darell drew a breath for what seemed the first time in several minutes. He was conscious of the trembling of his hands and controlled them with an effort. "Then she's all right. This Trading Representative, who was he? Go back to him. What part does he play in it?" "I don't know. Do you know anything about Trantor?" "I lived there once." "It's an agricultural world, now. Exports animal fodder and grains, mostly. High quality! They sell them all over the Galaxy. There are a dozen or two farm co-operatives on the planet and each has its representatives overseas. Shrewd sons of guns, too?I knew this one's record. He'd been on Kalgan before, usually with his wife. Perfectly honest. Perfectly harmless." "Um-mmm," said Anthor. "Arcadia was born in Trantor, wasn't she, Doc?" Darell nodded. "It hangs together, you see. She wanted to go away ?quickly and far ?and Trantor would suggest itself. Don't you think so?" Darell said: "Why not back here?" "Perhaps she was being pursued and felt that she had to double off in a new angle, eh?' Dr. Darell lacked the heart to question further. Well, then, let her be safe on Trantor, or as safe as one could be anywhere in this dark and horrible Galaxy. He groped toward the door, felt Anthor's light touch on his sleeve, and stopped, but did not turn. "Mind if I go home with you, Doc?" "You're welcome," was the automatic response. By evening, the exteriormost reaches of Dr. Darell's personality, the ones that made immediate contact with other people had solidified once more. He had refused to eat his evening meal and had, instead, with feverish insistence, returned to the inchwise advance into the intricate mathematics of encephalographic analysis. It was not till nearly midnight, that he entered the living room again. Pelleas Anthor was still there, twiddling at the controls of the video. The footsteps behind him caused him to glance over his shoulder. "Hi. Aren't you in bed yet? I've been spending hours on the video, trying to get something other than bulletins. It seems the F.S. Hober Mallow is delayed in course and hasn't been heard from" "Really? What do they suspect?" "What do you think? Kalganian skulduggery. There are reports that Kalganian vessels were sighted in the general space sector in which the Hober Mallow was last heard from?" Darell shrugged, and Anthor rubbed his forehead doubtfully. "Look doc," he said, "why don't you go to Trantor?" "Why should I?" "Because "You're no good to us here. You're not yourself. You can't be. And you could accomplish a purpose by going to Trantor, too. The old Imperial Library with the complete records of the Proceedings of the Seldon Commission are there? "No! The Library has been picked clean and it hasn't helped anyone." "It helped Ebling Mis once." "How do you know? Yes, he said he found the Second Foundation, and my mother killed him five seconds later as the only way to keep him from unwittingly revealing its location to the Mule. But in doing so, she also, you realize, made it impossible ever to tell whether Mis really did know the location. After all, no one else has ever been able to deduce the truth from those records." "Ebling Mis, if you'll remember, was working under the driving impetus of the Mule's mind." "I know that, too, but Mis' mind was, by that very token, in an abnormal state. Do you and I know anything about the properties of a mind under the emotional control of another; about its abilities and shortcomings? In any case, I will not go to Trantor." Anthor frowned, "Well, why the vehemence? I merely suggested it as ?well, by Space, I don't understand you. You look ten years older. You're obviously having a hellish time of it. You're not doing anything of value here. If I were you, I'd go and get the girl." "Exactly! It's what I want to do, too. That's why I won't do it. Look, Anthor, and try to understand. You're playing ?we're both playing ?with something completely beyond our powers to fight. In cold blood, if you have any, you know that, whatever you may think in your moments of quixoticism. "For fifty years, we've known that the Second Foundation is the real descendent and pupil of Seldonian mathematics. What that means, and you know that, too, is that nothing in the Galaxy happens which does not play a part in their reckoning. To us, all life is a series of accidents, to be met with by improvisations To them, all life is purposive and should be met by precalculation. "But they have their weakness. Their work is statistical and only the mass action of humanity is truly inevitable. Now how I play a part, as an individual, in the foreseen course of history, I don't know. Perhaps I have no definite part, since the Plan leaves individuals to indeterminacy and free will. But I am important and they ?they, you understand ?may at least have calculated my probable reaction. So I distrust, my impulses, my desires, my probable reactions. "I would rather present them with an improbable reaction. I will stay here, despite the fact that I yearn very desperately to leave. "No! Because I yearn very desperately to leave." The younger man smiled sourly. "You don't know your own mind as well as they might. Suppose that ?knowing you ?they might count on what you think, merely think, is the improbable reaction, simply by knowing in advance what your line of reasoning would be." "In that case, there is no escape. For if I follow the reasoning you have just outlined and go to Trantor, they may have foreseen that, too. There is an endless cycle of double-ddddddddddble-dddddd-crosses. No matter how far I follow that cycle, I can only either go or stay. The intricate act of luring my daughter halfway across the Galaxy cannot be meant to make me stay where I am, since I would most certainly have stayed if they had done nothing. It can only be to make me move, and so I will stay. "And besides, Anthor, not everything bears the breath of the Second Foundation; not all events are the results of their puppeting. They may have had nothing to do with Arcadia's leave-taking, and she may be safe on Trantor when all the rest of us are dead." "No," said Anthor, sharply, "now you are off the track." "You have an alternative interpretation?" "I have ?if you抣l listen." "Oh, go ahead. I don't lack patience." "Well, then ?how well do you know your own daughter?" "How well can any individual know any other? Obviously, my knowledge is inadequate." "So is mine on that basis, perhaps even more so ?but at least, I viewed her with fresh eyes. Item one: She is a ferocious little romantic, the only child of an ivory-tower academician, growing up in an unreal world of video and book-film adventure. She lives in a weird self-constructed fantasy of espionage and intrigue. Item two: She's intelligent about it; intelligent enough to outwit us, at any rate. She planned carefully to overhear our first conference and succeeded. She planned carefully to go to Kalgan with Munn and succeeded. Item three: She has an unholy hero-worship of her grandmother ?your mother ?who defeated the Mule. "I'm right so far, I think? All right, then. Now, unlike you, I've received a complete report from Lieutenant Dirige and, in addition, my sources of information on Kalgan are rather complete, and all sources check. We know, for instance, that Homir Munn, in conference with the Lord of Kalgan was refused admission to the Mule's Palace, and that this refusal was suddenly abrogated after Arcadia had spoken to Lady Callia, the First Citizen's very good friend." Darell interrupted. "And how do you know all this?" "For one thing, Munn was interviewed by Dirige as part of the police campaign to locate Arcadia. Naturally, we have a complete transcript of the questions and answers. "And take Lady Callia herself. It is rumored that she has lost Stettin's interest, but the rumor isn't borne out by facts. She not only remains unreplaced; is not only able to mediate the lord's refusal to Munn into an acceptance; but can even engineer Arcadia's escape openly. Why, a dozen of the soldiers about Stettin's executive mansion testified that they were seen together on the last evening. Yet she remains unpunished. This despite the fact that Arcadia was searched for with every appearance of diligence." "But what is your conclusion from all this torrent of ill-connection?" "That Arcadia's escape was arranged." "As I said." "With this addition. That Arcadia must have known it was arranged; that Arcadia, the bright little girl who saw cabals everywhere, saw this one and followed your own type of reasoning. They wanted her to return to the Foundation, and so she went to Trantor, instead. But why Trantor?" "Well, why?" "Because that is where Bayta, her idolized grandmother, escaped when she was in flight. Consciously or unconsciously, Arcadia imitated that. I wonder, then, if Arcadia was fleeing the same enemy." "The Mule?" asked Darell with polite sarcasm. "Of course not. I mean, by the enemy, a mentality that she could not fight. She was running from the Second Foundation, or such influence thereof as could be found on Kalgan." "What influence is this you speak of?" "Do you expect Kalgan to be immune from that ubiquitous menace? We both have come to the conclusion, somehow, that Arcadia's escape was arranged. Right? She was searched for and found, but deliberately allowed to slip away by Dirige. By Dirige, do you understand? But how was that? Because he was our man. But how did they know that? Were they counting on him to be a traitor? Eh, doc?" "Now you're saying that they honestly meant to recapture her. Frankly, you're tiring me a bit, Anthor. Finish your say; I want to go to bed." "My say is quickly finished." Anthor reached for a small group of photo-records in his inner pocket. It was the familiar wigglings of the encephalograph. "Dirige's brainwaves," Anthor said, casually, "taken since he returned." It was quite visible to Darell's naked eye, and his face was gray when he looked up. "He is Controlled." "Exactly. He allowed Arcadia to escape not because he was our man but because he was the Second Foundation's." "Even after he knew she was going to Trantor, and not to Terminus." Anthor shrugged. "He had been geared to let her go. There was no way he could modify that. He was only a tool, you see. It was just that Arcadia followed the least probable course, and is probably safe. Or at least safe until such time as the Second Foundation can modify the plans to take into account this changed state of affairs? He paused. The little signal light on the video set was flashing. On an independent circuit, it signified the presence of emergency news. Darell saw it, too, and with the mechanical movement of long habit turned on the video. They broke in upon the middle of a sentence but before its completion, they knew that the Hober Mallow, or the wreck thereof, had been found and that, for the first time in nearly half a century, the Foundation was again at war. Anthor's jaw was set in a hard line. "All right, doc, you heard that. Kalgan has attacked; and Kalgan is under the control of the Second Foundation. Will you follow your daughter's lead and move to Trantor?" "No. I will risk it. Here." "Dr. Darell. You are not as intelligent as your daughter. I wonder how far you can be trusted." His long level stare held Darell for a moment, and then without a word, he left. And Darell was left in uncertainty and ?almost ?despair. Unheeded, the video was a medley of excited sight-sound, as it described in nervous detail the first hour of the war between Kalgan and the Foundation. 第十章 战端   由于某个或数个如今已无人知晓的原因,银河标准时间的基本单位——“秒”,被定义为光线行进二十九万九千七百九十二点四五八公里所需的时间。以此为基准,再将八万六千四百秒定为一个银河标准日,三百六十五个标准日定为一个银河标准年。 可是为什么选取二十九万九千七百九十二•四五八?八万六千四百?三百六十五? 倒因为果的历史学家答称这是因为传统;神秘主义者、玄学宗师、数术上、形上学家则一致认为,这是缘自数字间某些繁复的神秘关联;另有极少数人坚信,由于诞生人类的那颗行星,它的自转与公转周期是最早的计时单位,因此上述的数值一定源自于这两个周期。 然而,没有人知道真正的答案。 姑且不论真正的答案究竟为何,且说基地的巡弋舰“侯伯•马洛号”,与卡尔根“无畏号”所率领的分遣舰队遭遇,由于拒绝后者的搜索队登舰,遂被轰成一团齑粉。这个事件发生的日期,是银河纪元一二四四四年一八五日——自出身于“坎伯王朝”的银河帝国开国皇帝登基那一年算起,一万二千四百四十四年之后的第一百八十五天。而这一天也可记为谢顿纪元四五七年一八五日——根据谢顿的生年作为基准;或者是基地纪元三七六年一八五日——以基地的创建作为基准。而在卡尔根,这一天则是第一公民纪元四十六年一八五日——以骡自封为第一公民那一年作为基准。当然,不论是哪一种纪元,为了方便起见,一律采用相同的“日数”,而不是从基准事件发生的日期算起。 除此之外,在银河系的数千万个世界中,每一个都根据邻近天体的运行,而定出各自的“当地时间”。 然而,不论是采用哪一种纪年系统——银河纪元一二四四四年一八五日、谢顿纪元四五七年一八五日、基地纪元三七六年一八五日、第一公民纪元四十六年一八五日,或者其他任何纪元——后世史家讨论到“史铁亭战争”的时候,都一致公认这一天就是战争爆发的日子。 不过对于达瑞尔博士而言,上述这些数字完全没有意义。他只清楚记得,今天是艾嘉蒂娅离开端点星的第三十二天。 这些日子以来,让达瑞尔能保持镇定,不至于轻举妄动的原因,并不是每个人都能了解的。 但是爱维特•瑟米克却认为他猜得到。他是一个上了年纪的人,常常喜欢自嘲,说自己的神经梢已经钙化,因此脑筋僵化而不管用了。他毫不介意别人低估他的能力,甚至总是主动嘲讽自己老态龙钟。然而事实上,他的视力如常,几乎没有衰退;心思也依旧精明世故,丝毫没有迟钝的迹象。 现在,他噘了噘紧抿着的嘴唇,然后开口说:“你为什么不采取行动?” 这句话灌入达瑞尔耳中,犹如一记晴天霹雳。他打了一个颤,粗声问道:“我们说到哪里了?” 瑟米克以严肃的目光瞪着他道:“你最好帮你的女儿想想办法。”他又张开嘴巴,露出两排稀疏的黄板牙。 可是达瑞尔却用冷静的口气说:“现在的问题是,你能不能弄到一个有效范围符合要求的‘塞美斯—莫尔夫共振器’。” “唉,我说过我可以办得到,可是你根本没听见……” “我很抱歉,爱维特。如今的情况是这样的——我们现在所做的这件事,跟银河中每一个人都有切身关系,它的重要性远超过艾嘉蒂娅的安危。即使有例外的话,也只有艾嘉蒂娅和我两个人而已,而我愿意为绝大多数人着想——那种共振器到底有多大?” 瑟米克露出茫然的表情:“我不知道,但是你可以在目录里查到。” “大概有多大,一吨?一磅?还是有整条街那么长?” “喔,我还以为你问的是精确尺度。它是个小玩意,差不多只有这么大。”他比了比大拇指上面那一节。 “好吧,你能不能制造出像这样的装置?”他摊开搁在膝盖上的活页簿,在上面迅速画出一幅草图,然后把它交给老物理学家。 瑟米克露出了不解的表情,然后吃吃笑出声来。他说:“你可知道,像我这种年纪的人,脑细胞全都已经钙化了。你到底想要做什么呢?” 达瑞尔迟疑了一下。这时候,他真恨不得能把锁在对方脑中的物理知识据为己有,这样他就不必费心解释自己的想法。可是这种幻想根本无济于事,他必须开口向对方解释才行。 瑟米克听完之后,摇着头说道:“你需要利用许多超波中继器,只有这种装置的响应速率才够快,而且需要很多很多。” “但是这种装置的确可以造得出来?” “嗯,当然。” “你能不能帮我弄到所有的零件?我的意思是说,不至于让任何人说话?就说是你的研究工作需要。” 瑟米克扬起上唇,回答道:“不可能一次申请五十个超波中继器,我一辈子也用不到那么多。” “别忘了,我们如今是在进行一项防御计划。不过,你能不能想一个比较不敏感的借口?我们有充足的经费。” “嗯——也许我可以想得到。” “你能把整个装置做得多小?” “超波中继器可以使用微型的……导线……晶片,还有……老天,总共有好几百个电路。” “我知道,告诉我有多大?” 瑟米克用两只手比了比。 “太大了,”达瑞尔说,“我需要把它挂在腰际。”说完,他将草图慢慢揉成一团,等到整张纸变成一个坚硬的小球之后,才把它丢进烟灰处理器中。纸球立刻化成一团白炽的光焰,所有的分子在一瞬间被分解殆尽。 他突然问道:“谁在门口?” 瑟米克俯身面向书桌,看了一下叫门讯号上方的乳白色小荧幕,然后说:“那个年轻人,安索,还有一个人跟他在一起。” 达瑞尔用力把椅子拖到一旁,并且说:“瑟米克,这件事情暂时不要对任何人提。万一被‘他们’发现,知道内情的人都会有生命危险,我们两条命赌进去已经够了。” 在瑟米克的办公室中,裴礼斯•安索现在是所有活动的焦点,他的青春活力甚至还传染了办公室的主人。安索穿着一件宽松的夏袍,在这间静谧悠然的房间中,他的袖子似乎仍随着外面的微风起舞。 他一进来就忙着介绍:“达瑞尔博士,瑟米克博士——欧如姆•迪瑞吉。” 跟他一起来的那个人身量很高,有一根直挺的长鼻子,配合着他瘦削的面容,给人的印象很像传统中的魔鬼形象。在安索引见之后,达瑞尔博士赶紧向他伸出手来。 安索又带着一丝笑意,继续介绍这位陌生人:“迪瑞吉是一名警官,”接着又意味深长地加上一句,“卡尔根的警官。” 听到这句话,达瑞尔立刻转身瞪着安索。 “卡尔根的警官——”他一字一顿地重复了一遍,然后问道,“而你却把他带到这里来,为什么?” “因为他是最后一个在卡尔根见到令嫒的人——别冲动,老兄。” 安索得意的神情顿时转趋严肃,他挡在两人之间,用尽全身的力气才把达瑞尔拦住,然后再使劲将他慢慢按回椅子上。 “你想要干什么?”安索将一络垂到前额的棕发向后一掠,然后一屁股坐上了书桌。他一面晃动着一条腿,一面用莫测高深的语调说,“我以为,我帮你带来的是一个好消息。” 达瑞尔却不理会他,直接问那名警官:“他说你是最后一个见到我女儿的人,这句话究竟是什么意思?我女儿死了吗?请你立刻直截了当地告诉我。”他心急如焚,脸色已经一片死灰。 迪瑞吉警官面无表情地答道:“他刚才说的是:我是最后一个‘在卡尔根’见到令嫒的人。你的女儿现在已经不在卡尔根了,这就是我所知道的一切。” “听我说,”安索插嘴道,“让我直说好了。博士,刚才我的表演如果夸张了些,我愿意向你道歉。你对这件事一直表现得不近人情,我都忘记了你还有感情。首先我要强调,迪瑞吉警官其实是我们自己人。他虽然生在卡尔根,不过他的父亲是基地人,当年被骡征到卡尔根去服役,我可以保证他对基地的忠诚。 “当孟恩的每日例行报告无故中止之后,第二天我就跟迪瑞吉联络上……” “为什么?”达瑞尔突然厉声打断对方的话,“我们不是早已一致决定,对于这个变化不要采取任何行动?你这样做,会让他们和我们都陷入险境。” 安索却不甘示弱,同样厉声答道:“因为这场游戏我比你玩得更久;因为我在卡尔根认识几个自己人,而你却没有;因为我的一切行动,根据的都是更深入的情报。你能够了解吗?” “我认为你已经彻底疯了。” “你愿不愿意听我说?” 顿了一下之后,达瑞尔的眼睑垂了下来。 安索噘着嘴唇,做了一个似笑非笑的表情,然后才说:“好的,博士,给我几分钟时间——告诉他们,迪瑞吉。” 于是迪瑞吉开始滔滔不绝:“据我所知,达瑞尔博士,令嫒现在正在川陀。至少当她出现在东郊太空航站的时候,手中正握着一张去川陀的票。她当时跟一个川陀来的贸易代表在一起,那个人自称是她的叔叔。令嫒似乎特别喜欢搜集亲戚,博士,几周以来,她已经多了两位叔叔,对不对?那个川陀人甚至想贿赂我——也许直到现在,他还以为那就是他们能逃走的真正原因。”想到这件事,他便露出了一个冷笑。 “她怎么样?” “我看不出她受到任何伤害,只是吓坏了,这当然是难免的。卡尔根所有的警察全部倾巢而出,如今我还是不明白究竟为什么。” 达瑞尔似乎已经窒息了好几分钟,直到现在才终于喘了一口气。他感到自己的双手不停地颤抖,费了好大力气才控制住。 “这么说的话,她真的没事。那个贸易代表,他又是什么人?我们再回到他身上,他在这个事件中扮演的是什么角色?” “我实在不知道。你对川陀略有了解吗?” “我曾经在那里住过。” “现在那里是一个农业世界,主要出口牲畜的饲料和谷物,都是上等货色,外销到整个银河。在那个行星上,有十几、二十来个农产品合作社,每一个都有自己的贸易代表,那些人全都是既机灵又精明的家伙——我查过那个人的记录,他以前曾经到卡尔根来过几次,通常都是跟他太太一起来的。百分之百诚实,百分之百的好好先生。” “嗯——”安索说,“艾嘉蒂娅是在川陀出生的,对不对,博士?” 达瑞尔默默点了点头。 “你可知道,这么一来一切都合拍了。她想要离开卡尔根——走得越快越远越好——而川陀便是一个很好的选择。你难道不这么想吗?” 达瑞尔说:“她为什么不回这儿来?” “也许她被什么人追捕,所以故意想把敌人引开,你说是吗?” 达瑞尔博士没有心情继续问下去。好吧,他想,就让她安稳地待在川陀吧,只要她能够安然无恙,待在这个黑暗、恐怖的银河中任何一处都没有关系。他向门口蹒跚地走去,却感到安索轻轻抓住了他的衣袖。于是他停下脚步,不过并没有转过头来。 “我跟你一块回家好吗,博士?” “当然好。”他随口答道。 到了傍晚时分,达瑞尔博士最表面的那层性格——也就是与他人直接接触的那一层——又再度冻结起来,而固执的脾气则浮出了表面。他根本没有吃晚餐,便怀着满腔狂热的情绪,重新拾起脑电图分析的复杂数学,希望能够再做出一丝一毫的进展。 直到接近午夜时分,他才又回到客厅。 裴礼斯•安索仍然待在那里,正拨弄着超视的遥控器。听到身后传来一阵脚步声,他立刻转过头去看了一眼。 “嗨,你还没睡啊?我花了好几个小时守在超视前面,结果除了新闻报导之外,其他什么节目都没有。基地星舰‘侯伯•马洛号’的行程好像延误了,而且也已经失去了联络。” “真的吗?当局认为有什么可能?” “你自己又认为如何呢?是卡尔根搞的鬼吗?根据报导,在‘侯伯•马洛号’最后一次发讯的地点,附近太空中发现了卡尔根船舰的踪迹。” 达瑞尔听了只是耸耸肩。安索则抚摸着额头,露出大惑不解的表情。 “我问你,博士,”安索说,“你为什么不到川陀去呢?” “我为什么要去?” “因为你继续留在这里,对我们一点帮助也没有,你现在六神无主……当然这也难怪。如果你到川陀去,至少可以完成一项工作。在那个昔日的帝国图书馆中,藏有谢顿大会的完整会议记录……” “不会的!那个图书馆曾经被人翻遍了,结果什么有用的东西也没找到。” “但是艾布林•米斯曾有所发现。” “你又怎么知道?没错,他声称自己找到了第二基地,而五秒钟之后,我母亲就把他杀了。因为唯有这样做,才能防止他无意中将这个秘密泄露给骡。但是她这样一来,你可知道,却再也无法确定米斯是否真的知道答案。除此之外,没有任何人能从那些记录中导出真相。” “你还记得吗?当时,艾布林•米斯是在骡的心灵驱策之下工作的。” “这点我也知道,然而也就是因为这样,所以米斯的精神状态并不正常。心灵一旦受到他人的控制,究竟会发生什么变化,会产生什么特殊能力,又会有什么缺陷,对于这些问题,你我有任何概念吗?反正无论如何,我绝对不会到川陀去。” 安索皱着眉头说:“好吧,何必那么激动呢?我只不过是建议……唉,老天,我实在不了解你。你看起来好像突然老了十岁,这些日子以来,你显然很不好过。你待在这里,不能做出任何有用的事情。如果我是你的话,我就会立刻动身,把那女孩接回家来。” “一点都没错!这正是我想要做的事情,而这也正是我不要做的原因。听好,安索,给我用心听着,你正在——我们正在对付一个根本无法抗衡的敌人。如果你能冷静下来好好想一想,不论你心中有多少疯狂幻想,也会承认这是一件事实。 “早在五十年前,我们就知道,第二基地才是谢顿数学真正的传人。这句话的意思,你心里一定也很明白,就是说银河各处所发生的任何事情,没有一件不在他们的算计之中。对我们而言,生命是一连串的偶然,随时随地都要随机应变。可是对于他们那些人,生命中任何事件都有既定的目的,而且一切都要按照既有的计划逐步执行。 “不过他们也有他们的弱点,他们的工作是统计性的,只有人类群体的行动才有真正的必然性。在他们可以预见的历史中,我个人究竟扮演什么样的角色,我实在无从知晓。也许我根本就没有一个固定的地位,因为谢顿并不考虑任何个人,所以个人仍能拥有自由意志,因而单独的行动是无法确定的。但是话又说回来,我的地位终究极为重要,而他们——他们,你知道我在说谁——或许至少试图计算过我的可能反应。基于这个原因,我根本就不相信自己的直觉、冲动、愿望,以及所有可能的反应。 “我故意要做出最不可能的决断,所以我决定留在这里,即使事实上我实在太想去。我不去!就是因为我实在是太想去了。” 年轻人露出了苦笑,他说:“他们很可能比你更了解你的心意。假如说,他们真的对你了若指掌,或许就会故意要你表现出自以为——自以为极不可能的反应,因为他们能预知你的推理与思维方式。” “要真是这样,那我就走投无路了。因为如果我照着你刚才的推论,而决定到川陀去,他们可能也早已预见这一步。这就构成了一个永无止境的正、反、正、反、正、反、正、反的命题,不论我多么深入这个循环,结果也只有去、留两种选择。他们设计了那么复杂的计谋,大老远将我女儿拐骗到银河的中心,不可能是要藉此让我留在原处。因为,如果他们什么都没做的话,我几乎可以肯定,自己仍旧哪里都不会去。他们的目的一定是要我去川陀,所以我就偏偏要留下来。 “此外,安索,第二基地不一定能左右宇宙间的每一件事,也并非任何事件都是他们导演的傀儡戏。艾嘉蒂娅前去川陀,可能和他们一点关系也没有,或许当我们其他人都死光之后,她还依旧在川陀过得好好的。” “不对,”安索突然叫道,“你现在扯远了。” “你难道还另有解释吗?” “我有——如果你愿意听我说的话。” “喔,说吧,我有耐性听。” “好的,那么我问你——你对自己的女儿有多了解?” “一个人对另一个人又能够了解多少?我对她的了解当然有限。” “照你这样说,我也一样不能算了解她,也许还及不上你——但至少我是以毫无成见的眼光来看她。第一点,她是一个无药可救的浪漫派,是你这个关在象牙塔中的学究的独生女,她在超视和胶卷书的冒险世界中成长,生活在自己塑造的谍报阴谋幻想中;第二点,她非常聪明,至少有本事胜过我们。她计划偷听我们第一次的密商,结果成功了;她计划要跟孟恩一块到卡尔根去,结果也成功了;第三点,她对她的祖母,也就是令堂,怀有无比的英雄崇拜,因为令堂曾经击败过骡。 “目前为止,我说的都完全没错,我想是吧?好的,那么,话又说回来,我跟你不同的是,我接到了迪瑞吉警官的完整报告。此外,在卡尔根发生的有关事件,我的消息来源相当完善,而所有的消息都能互相印证。我们知道,比如说,当侯密尔•孟恩第一次求见卡尔根统领时,那个统领根本拒绝他进入骡殿,可是当艾嘉蒂娅与嘉丽贵妇,第一公民最亲密的密友,谈过一席话之后,第一公民就突然回心转意了。” 达瑞尔插嘴道:“你又是怎么知道这些的?” “因为迪瑞吉曾经询问过孟恩,这是警方寻找艾嘉蒂娅的例行公事。自然,我这里有一份完整的问话笔录。 “我们再来谈谈嘉丽贵妇这个人。有谣言传说她早已失宠,然而事实俱在,谣言不攻自破——她的地位不但没有动摇,还能够说服统领接受孟恩的请求,甚至更有办法公开策动艾嘉蒂娅逃亡。有十几个史铁亭官邸中的卫兵,一致作证说当晚看到她们两人在一起。虽然表面上,整个卡尔根都在努力搜寻艾嘉蒂娅的下落,可是嘉丽却没有受到任何处罚。” “你滔滔不绝讲了这么多毫不相干的事情,结论究竟是什么呢?” “结论是,艾嘉蒂娅的逃亡其实是早就安排好的。” “跟我说的一样嘛。” “不过我有一点补充——艾嘉蒂娅自己一定也知道这是预先安排的。这个机灵的小女孩能看穿任何阴谋,这一次当然也不会例外,而且她的推理方式想必与乃父一样。她料到他们想要她回基地来,所以她就故意去了川陀。现在问题是,她为什么选择川陀呢?” “是啊,为什么?” “因为贝妲——她的祖母兼偶像——当年逃避战乱时,最后就是逃到那里去的,艾嘉蒂娅有意无意间就模仿了这件事。所以我在想,她是不是也在逃避相同的敌人。” “骡吗?”达瑞尔带着几分讽刺的口吻说。 “当然不是,我的意思是说相同类型的敌人,同样具有令她无法抗衡的精神力量。她在逃避第二基地,或者是第二基地在卡尔根的势力。” “你所谓的势力是什么意思?” “他们的威胁无处不在,你以为卡尔根有什么办法免疫吗?我们可说达到了一致的结论——艾嘉蒂娅的逃亡是事先安排好的,对不对?她遭到追捕,而且的确被找到了,却在最后关头让迪瑞吉故意放走——让迪瑞吉放走的,你懂不懂?不过这又是为什么呢?因为他是我们的人吗?可是他们又如何知道这一点?他们当然无法算中他的双重身份,啊,博士?” “现在你又说,他们真的想要将她捉回来。老实讲,你让我有点烦了,安索。赶紧把话结束吧,我要上床睡觉了。” “我的话马上就可以说完,”安索从衣服内层的口袋中掏出几张相片,上面全都是脑电图的记录,达瑞尔对这些颤动的波纹再熟悉不过了。然后安索若无其事地说:“迪瑞吉的脑波,在他来到这里之后做的。” 达瑞尔根本不用借助任何仪器,光用肉眼就能看得一清二楚。他抬起头来,脸色变得一片灰白:“他受到控制了。” “正是如此,他之所以放走艾嘉蒂娅,并非因为他是我们的人,而是因为他是第二基地的人。” “当他知道她准备到川陀去,而不是回端点星来,却仍旧放她走?” 安索耸耸肩:“他所受到的控制,就是要他放她走,这一点他自己根本无法改变。你知道,他只是一个工具而已。不过,艾嘉蒂娅却选择了最不可能的目的地,所以她现在也许还很安全。或者说,在第二基地变更计划、重新掌握这个新情势之前,她至少还能保持平安无事……” 说到这里他陡然打住,因为超视上的一个小讯号灯突然闪起。这个讯号灯属于一个独立线路,代表有紧急新闻快报。 达瑞尔一看到,想也不想就打开超视接收机。此时快报已经报了一半,可是在那段报导结束之前,他们便已知晓了主要的内容。 “侯伯•马洛号”——或者应该说它的残骸——在太空中被发现了,而且基地已经与卡尔根开战,这是基地近半个世纪来的第一场战事。 安索露出了凝重的神色:“好啦,博士,你已经听到了。卡尔根开始发动攻击了,而卡尔根是在第二基地的控制之下。你是否准备跟随令嫒的脚步,动身到川陀去?” “不,我要赌一赌,我要留在这里。” “达瑞尔博士,你还比不上你的女儿聪明,我怀疑你究竟有多么值得信任。”他肆无忌惮地瞪视达瑞尔良久,然后一言不发就离开了。 不一会儿,达瑞尔也离开了客厅。他的心情一片茫然——而且几乎感到绝望。 客厅中只剩下没有观众的超视,兀自不停变换着影像与声音。内容不外是详述基地与卡尔根开战之后,第一个小时内的各种紧张战情。 Chapter 11 War The mayor of the Foundation brushed futilely at the picket fence of hair that rimmed his skull. He sighed. "The years that we have wasted; the chances we have thrown away. I make no recriminations, Dr. Darell, but we deserve defeat." Darell said, quietly, "I see no reason for lack of confidence in events, sir." "Lack of confidence! Lack of confidence! By the Galaxy, Dr. Darell, on what would you base any other attitude? Come here? He half-led half-forced Darell toward the limpid ovoid cradled gracefully on its tiny force-field support. At a touch of the mayor's hand, it glowed within ?an accurate three-dimensional model of the Galactic double-spiral. "In yellow," said the mayor, excitedly, "we have that region of Space under Foundation control; in red, that under Kalgan." What Darell saw was a crimson sphere resting within a stretching yellow fist that surrounded it on all sides but that toward the center of the Galaxy. "Galactography," said the mayor, "is our greatest enemy. Our admirals make no secret of our almost hopeless, strategic position. Observe. The enemy has inner lines of communication. He is concentrated; can meet us on all sides with equal ease. He can defend himself with minimum force. "We are expanded. The average distance between inhabited systems within the Foundation is nearly three times that within Kalgan. To go from Santanni to Locris, for instance, is a voyage of twenty-five hundred parsecs for us, but only eight hundred parsecs for them, if we remain within our respective territories? Darell said, "I understand all that, sir." "And you do not understand that it may mean defeat." "There is more than distance to war. I say we cannot lose. It is quite impossible." "And why do you say that?" "Because of my own interpretation of the Seldon Plan." "Oh," the mayor's lips twisted, and the hands behind his back flapped one within the other, "then you rely, too, on the mystical help of the Second Foundation." "No. Merely on the help of inevitability ?and of courage and persistence." And yet behind his easy confidence, he wondered? What if? Well?What if Anthor were right, and Kalgan were a direct tool of the mental wizards. What if it was their purpose to defeat and destroy the Foundation. No! It made no sense! And yet? He smiled bitterly. Always the same. Always that peering and peering through the opaque granite which, to the enemy, was so transparent. Nor were the galactographic verities of the situation lost upon Stettin. The Lord of Kalgan stood before a twin of the Galactic model which the mayor and Darell had inspected. Except that where the mayor frowned, Stettin smiled. His admiral's uniform glistered imposingly upon his massive figure. The crimson sash of the Order of the Mule awarded him by the former First Citizen whom six months later he had replaced somewhat forcefully, spanned his chest diagonally from right shoulder to waist. The Silver Star with Double Comets and Swords sparkled brilliantly upon his left shoulder. He addressed the six men of his general staff whose uniforms were only less grandiloquent than his own, and his First Minister as well, thin and gray ?a darkling cobweb, lost in the brightness. Stettin said, "I think the decisions are clear. We can afford to wait. To them, every day of delay will be another blow at their morale. If they attempt to defend all portions of their realm, they will be spread thin and we can strike through in two simultaneous thrusts here and here." He indicated the directions on the Galactic model ?two lances of pure white shooting through the yellow fist from the red ball it inclosed, cutting Terminus off on either side in a tight arc. "In such a manner, we cut their fleet into three parts which can be defeated in detail. If they concentrate, they give up two-thirds of their dominions voluntarily and will probably risk rebellion." The First Minister's thin voice alone seeped through the hush that followed. "In six months," he said, "the Foundation will grow six months stronger. Their resources are greater, as we all know, their navy is numerically stronger; their manpower is virtually inexhaustible. Perhaps a quick thrust would be safer." His was easily the least influential voice in the room. Lord Stettin smiled and made a flat gesture with his hand. "The six months ?or a year, if necessary ?will cost us nothing. The men of the Foundation cannot prepare; they are ideologically incapable of it. It is in their very philosophy to believe that the Second Foundation will save them. But not this time, eh?" The men in the room stirred uneasily. "You lack confidence, I believe," said Stettin, frigidly. "Is it necessary once again to describe the reports of our agents in Foundation territory, or to repeat the findings of Mr. Homir Munn, the Foundation agent now in our ... uh ... service? Let us adjourn, gentlemen." Stettin returned to his private chambers with a fixed smile still on his face. He sometimes wondered about this Homir Munn. A queer water-spined fellow who certainly did not bear out his early promise. And yet he crawled with interesting information that carried conviction with it ?particularly when Callia was present. His smile broadened. That fat fool had her uses, after all. At least, she got more with her wheedling out of Munn than he could, and with less trouble. Why not give her to Munn? He frowned. Callia. She and her stupid jealousy. Space! If he still had the Darell girl- Why hadn't he ground her skull to powder for that? He couldn't quite put his finger on the reason. Maybe because she got along with Munn. And he needed Munn. It was Munn, for instance, who had demonstrated that, at least in the belief of the Mule, there was no Second Foundation. His admirals needed that assurance. He would have liked to make the proofs public, but it was better to let the Foundation believe in their nonexistent help. Was it actually Callia who had pointed that out? That's right. She had said? Oh, nonsense! She couldn't have said anything. And yet? He shook his head to clear it and passed on. 第十一章 战争   基地市长摸了摸秃得只剩一圈的头发,深深叹了一口气,然后说:“我们浪费了许多年的时间,坐失了太多良机。我并不想推诿责任,达瑞尔博士,日后我们如果战败,那也是罪有应得。” 达瑞尔以沉稳的语气说道:“我看不出为何要对自己缺乏信心,阁下。” “缺乏信心!缺乏信心!银河在上,达瑞尔博士,你有任何乐观的理由吗?到这里来……” 达瑞尔半推半就地来到一个小巧的力场支架旁,支架上盛放着一个卵形透明体。市长轻轻碰了一下,透明体内部就发出了光亮——那是逼真的银河双螺旋臂三维模型。 “黄色的部分,”市长以激动的口气说,“是基地所控制的星空;而红色的区域,则在卡尔根的控制之下。” 呈现在达瑞尔眼前的,是一个深红色的球形区域,它几乎被一只黄色的大手紧紧抓住,只有面对银河中心那一侧例外。 “银河地理是我们最大的敌人,”市长说,“我们的战略位置几乎没有任何希望,这一点连将领们都不讳言。你注意看,敌人有完善的内线联系,他们的兵力集中,在每一侧都能轻易迎战我方,能够以最小的兵力防卫本土。 “而我们却是扩散的,在基地领域中,两个住人星系的平均距离几乎是卡尔根的三倍。比如说从圣塔尼到卢奎斯,航程是两千五百秒差距。可是在卡尔根的领域中,两个住人星系的平均距离,却只有八百秒差距。如果双方都留在各自领域中的话……” 达瑞尔说:“这些我都了解,阁下。” “可是你并不了解,这代表我们注定战败。” “对于战争而言,还有比距离更重要的因素。我说我们不会打败——那简直就是不可能的事。” “你又为什么这么说呢?” “根据我自己对谢顿计划的诠释。” “哦,”市长噘了噘嘴,放在背后的双手互相拍打着,又说,“所以,你也指望着第二基地的神秘援手。” “不,我仰赖的只是历史的必然性,以及勇气和毅力。” 可是,在他信心十足的外表之下,他却怀疑……万一…… 唉——万一安索的说法是对的,卡尔根是那些精神术士直接操控的工具;万一他们的目的是要击败并摧毁基地。不!这太不合理了! 可是…… 他露出了苦笑。情况始终是如此——他们面对的总是一块看不透的花岗岩,然而在敌人眼中,那却是一个澄澈透明的水晶球。 银河地理的真理,史铁亭也完全了然于胸。 现在,这位卡尔根统领也站在一个银河模型之前。这个模型跟市长与达瑞尔面对的那个一模一样。惟一不同的是,令市长皱眉头的地方,却使史铁亭发出会心的微笑。 他穿着闪闪发光的舰队司令制服,更衬托出了他的魁梧身形。“骡勋章”的深红色绶带挂在他的右肩,从胸前一直延伸到腰际。这个勋章是前任公民颁给他的,而在受勋六个月之后,他就强行取代了统领的位置。他的左肩还挂着一个闪烁的银色星章,上面有两个彗星与数把宝剑的图样。 他正在对参谋本部的六名军官训话,他们也都是一身戎装,只不过挂的勋章没有统领那么多。此外瘦削灰发的首相也在场,身处在这些星光闪闪的军人当中,他蓬乱的灰发显得黯然失色。 史铁亭说:“我想决心已经十分明确,我们能够继续等待。对于敌军而言,每拖过一天,士气就会多受一次打击。如果敌军试图防御领域中的每一部分,兵力就会极度分散,我军便能同时从两侧发动攻击——这里,还有这里。”他在银河模型上指了两个地方,被黄色巨掌捏住的红色球体,自那两点伸出了两条白色的弧带,将端点星延伸出来的基地领域从两侧切断。 “这样一来,我军便能将敌军舰队一分为三,之后可以再分头各个击破。而如果敌军将兵力集中的话,势必得主动放弃三分之二的领域,同时还可能遭致叛乱的危险。” 统领说完之后,众人都沉默不语,只有首相细弱的声音传了出来。他说:“多等六个月,基地就会有六个月的喘息时间,实力将会大为增强。大家都知道,他们的资源比我们丰富;船舰的数目也多过我们;而且他们的人力几乎是取之不尽、用之不竭的。所以我认为,发动闪电攻击应该比较保险。” 在这间会议室中,这个声音的影响力当然是最小的。史铁亭统领笑了笑,猛力挥了挥手,然后说:“多等六个月——甚至一年,如果真有必要的话——对我们绝对毫无损失。基地的军民根本无从准备,他们的意识形态会把他们害惨。他们总以为第二基地会来拯救他们,可是这一次却不同,对不对啊?” 会议室中起了一阵不安的骚动。 “我想,你们都缺乏信心,”史铁亭以冷淡的语调说,“是不是要我再重述一次,我们派到基地领域的间谍传回来的报告?或者再重复一次那个基地的间谍,如今转而为我们……嗯……工作的侯密尔•孟恩先生的研究结果?让我们散会吧,各位先生。” 当史铁亭回到休息室时,脸上依旧挂着刚才的笑容。他有时仍然会对那个侯密尔•孟恩没有信心,那个古怪而没有骨气的家伙,一定总是食言而肥。不过他却能提出许多有趣的资料,而且看来相当可信——尤其是当嘉丽也在场的时候。 他的笑容又扩大了一点。无论如何,那个又肥又蠢的婆娘还是有她的用处。至少,她比自己更能从孟恩那里挖到一些情报,而且似乎不费吹灰之力。为什么不把她送给孟恩呢?他突然皱起了眉头,嘉丽,她跟她满脑子愚蠢的醋劲。老天啊!如果那个叫达瑞尔的女孩仍在身边——嘉丽竟然将她放走了,自己为什么还不把她的脑袋辗得粉碎? 他始终百思不得其解。 也许是因为她跟孟恩合得来,而自己还需要孟恩。比如说吧,孟恩证明了一件重要的事实——至少骡本人不相信第二基地的存在,将领们需要的就是这种保证。 他很想将这些证据对外公开,不过,最好还是让基地继续沉迷在梦想中。真的是嘉丽指出这一点的吗?没错,她曾经说过…… 喔,荒唐!她不可能讲过这种话。 可是…… 他摇摇头,便将这个念头甩掉了。 Chapter 12 Ghost of a World Trantor was a world in dregs and rebirth. Set like a faded jewel in the midst of the bewildering crowd of suns at the center of the Galaxy ?in the heaps and clusters of stars piled high with aimless prodigality ?it alternately dreamed of past and future. Time had been when the insubstantial ribbons of control had stretched out from its metal coating to the very edges of stardom. It had been a single city, housing four hundred billion administrators; the mightiest capital that had ever been. Until the decay of the Empire eventually reached it and in the Great Sack of a century ago, its drooping powers had been bent back upon themselves and broken forever. In the blasting ruin of death, the metal shell that circled the planet wrinkled and crumpled into an aching mock of its own grandeur. The survivors tore up the metal plating and sold it to other planets for seed and cattle. The soil was uncovered once more and the planet returned to its beginnings. In the spreading areas of primitive agriculture, it forgot its intricate and colossal past. Or would have but for the still mighty shards that heaped their massive ruins toward the sky in bitter and dignified silence. Arcadia watched the metal rim of the horizon with a stirring of the heart. The village in which the Palvers lived was but a huddle of houses to her ?small and primitive. The fields that surrounded it were golden-yellow, wheat-cIogged tracts. But there, just past the reaching point was the memory of the past, still glowing in unrusted splendor, and burning with fire where the sun of Trantor caught it in gleaming highlights. She had been there once during the months since she had arrived at Trantor. She had climbed onto the smooth, unjointed pavement and ventured into the silent dust-streaked structures, where the light entered through the jags of broken walls and partitions. It had been solidified heartache. It had been blasphemy. She had left, clangingly ?running until her feet pounded softly on earth once more. And then she could only look back longingly. She dared not disturb that mighty brooding once more. Somewhere on this world, she knew, she had been born ?near the old Imperial Library, which was the veriest Trantor of Trantor. It was the sacred of the sacred; the holy of holies! Of all the world, it alone had survived the Great Sack and for a century it had remained complete and untouched; defiant of the universe. There Hari Seldon and his group had woven their unimaginable web. There Ebling Mis pierced the secret, and sat numbed in his vast surprise, until he was killed to prevent the secret from going further. There at the Imperial Library, her grandparents had lived for ten years, until the Mule died, and they could return to the reborn Foundation. There at the Imperial Library, her own father returned with his bride to find the Second Foundation once again, but failed. There, she had been born and there her mother had died. She would have liked to visit the Library, but Preem Palver shook his round head. "It's thousands of miles, Arkady, and there's so much to do here. Besides, it's not good to bother there. You know; it's a shrine? But Arcadia knew that he had no desire to visit the Library; that it was a case of the Mule's Palace over again. There was this superstitious fear on the part of the pygmies of the present for the relies of the giants of the past. Yet it would have been horrible to feel a grudge against the funny little man for that. She had been on Trantor now for nearly three months and in all that time, he and she ?Pappa and Mamma ?had been wonderful to her? And what was her return? Why, to involve them in the common ruin. Had she warned them that she was marked for destruction, perhaps? No! She let them assume the deadly role of protectors. Her conscience panged unbearably ?yet what choice had she? She stepped reluctantly down the stairs to breakfast. The voices reached her. Preem Palver had tucked the napkin down his shirt collar with a twist of his plump neck and had reached for his poached eggs with an uninhibited satisfaction. "I was down in the city yesterday, Mamma," he said, wielding his fork and nearly drowning the words with a capacious mouthful. "And what is down in the city, Pappa?" asked Mamma indifferently, sitting down, looking sharply about the table, and rising again for the salt. "Ah, not so good. A ship came in from out Kalgan-way with newspapers from there. It's war there." "War! So! Well, let them break their heads, if they have no more sense inside. Did your pay check come yet? Pappa, I'm telling you again. You warn old man Cosker this isn't the only cooperative in the world. It's bad enough they pay you what I'm ashamed to tell my friends, but at least on time they could be!" "Time; shmime," said Pappa, irritably. "Look, don't make me silly talk at breakfast, it should choke me each bite in the throat," and he wreaked havoc among the buttered toast as he said it. He added, somewhat more moderately, "The fighting is between Kalgan and the Foundation, and for two months, they've been at it." His hands lunged at one another in mock-representation of a space fight. "Um-mmm. And what's doing?" "Bad for the Foundation. Well, you saw Kalgan; all soldiers. They were ready. The Foundation was not, and so ?poof!" And suddenly, Mamma laid down her fork and hissed, "Fool!" "Huh?" "Dumb-head! Your big mouth is always moving and wagging." She was pointing quickly and when Pappa looked over his shoulder, there was Arcadia, frozen in the doorway. She said, "The Foundation is at war?" Pappa looked helplessly at Mamma, then nodded. "And they're losing?" Again the nod. Arcadia felt the unbearable catch in her throat, and slowly approached the table. "Is it over?" she whispered. "Over?" repeated Pappa, with false heartiness. "Who said it was over? In war, lots of things can happen. And ... and? "Sit down, darling," said Mamma, soothingly. "No one should talk before breakfast. You're not in a healthy condition with no food in the stomach." But Arcadia ignored her. "Are the Kalganians on Terminus?" "No," said Pappa, seriously. "The news is from last week, and Terminus is still fighting. This is honest. I'm telling the truth. And the Foundation is still strong. Do you want me to get you the newspapers?" "Yes!" She read them over what she could eat of her breakfast and her eyes blurred as she read. Santanni and Korell were gone ?without a fight. A squadron of the Foundation's navy had been trapped in the sparsely-sunned Ifni sector and wiped out to almost the last ship. And now the Foundation was back to the Four-Kingdom core ?the original Realm which had been built up under Salvor Hardin, the first mayor. But still it fought ?and still there might be a chance-and whatever happened, she must inform her father. She must somehow reach his ear. She must! But how? With a war in the way. She asked Pappa after breakfast, "Are you going out on a new mission soon, Mr. Palver?" Pappa was on the large chair on the front lawn, sunning himself. A fat cigar smoldered between his plump fingers and he looked like a beatific pug-dog. "A mission?" he repeated, lazily. "Who knows? It's a nice vacation and my leave isn't up. Why talk about new missions? You're restless, Arkady?" "Me? No, I like it here. You're very good to me, you and Mrs. Palver." He waved his hand at her, brushing away her words. Arcadia said, "I was thinking about the war." "But don't think about it. What can you do? If it's something you can't help, why hurt yourself over it?" "But I was thinking that the Foundation has lost most of its farming worlds. They're probably rationing food there." Pappa looked uncomfortable. "Don't worry. It'll be all right." She scarcely listened. "I wish I could carry food to them, that's what. You know after the Mule died, and the Foundation rebelled, Terminus was just about isolated for a time and General Han Pritcher, who succeeded the Mule for a while was laying siege to it. Food was running awfully low and my father says that his father told him that they only had dry amino-acid concentrates that tasted terrible. Why, one egg cost two hundred credits. And then they broke the siege just in time and food ships came through from Santanni. It must have been an awful time. Probably it's happening all over, now." There was a pause, and then Arcadia said, "You know, I'll bet the Foundation would be willing to pay smuggler's prices for food now. Double and triple and more. Gee, if any co-operative, f'r instance, here on Trantor took over the job, they might lose some ships, but, I'll bet they'd be war millionaires before it was over. The Foundation Traders in the old days used to do that all the time. There'd be a war, so they'd sell whatever was needed bad and take their chances. Golly, they used to make as much as two million dollars out of one trip ?profit. That was just out of what they could carry on one ship, too." Pappa stirred. His cigar had gone out, unnoticed. "A deal for food, huh? Hm-mmm?But the Foundation is so far away." "Oh, I know. I guess you couldn't do it from here. If you took a regular liner you probably couldn't get closer than Massena or Smushyk, and after that you'd have to hire a small scoutship or something to slip you through the lines." Pappa's hand brushed at his hair, as he calculated. Two weeks later, arrangements for the mission were completed. Mamma railed for most of the time?First, at the incurable obstinacy with which he courted suicide. Then, at the incredible obstinacy with which he refused to allow her to accompany him. Pappa said, "Mamma, why do you act like an old lady. I can't take you. It's a man's work. What do you think a war is? Fun? Child's play?" "Then why do you go? Are you a man, you old fool ?with a leg and half an arm in the grave. Let some of the young ones go ?not a fat bald-head like you?" "I'm not a bald-head," retorted Pappa, with dignity. "I got yet lots of hair. And why should it not be me that gets the commission? Why, a young fellow? Listen, this could mean millions?" She knew that and she subsided. Arcadia saw him once before he left. She said, "Are you going to Terminus?" "Why not? You say yourself they need bread and rice and potatoes. Well, I'll make a deal with them, and they'll get it." "Well, then ?just one thing: If you're going to Terminus, could you ... would you see my father?" And Pappa's face crinkled and seemed to melt into sympathy, "Oh ?and I have to wait for you to tell me. Sure, I'll see him. I'll tell him you're safe and everything's O.K., and when the war is over, I'll bring you back." "Thanks. I'll tell you how to find him. His name is Dr. Toran Darell and he lives in Stanmark. That's just outside Terminus City, and you can get a little commuting plane that goes there. We抮e at 55 Channel Drive." "Wait, and I抣l write it down." "No, no," Arcadia's arm shot out. "You mustn't write anything down. You must remember ?and find him without anybody's help." Pappa looked puzzled. Then he shrugged his shoulders. "All right, then. It's 55 Channel Drive in Stanmark, outside Terminus City, and you commute there by plane. All right?" "One other thing." "Yes?" "Would you tell him something from me?" "Sure." "I want to whisper it to you." He leaned his plump cheek toward her, and the little whispered sound passed from one to the other. Pappa's eyes were round. "That's what you want me to say? But it doesn't make sense." "He'll know what you mean. Just say I sent it and that I said he would know what it means. And you say it exactly the way I told you. No different. You won't forget it?" "How can I forget it? Five little words. Look? "No, no." She hopped up and down in the intensity of her feelings. "Don't repeat it. Don't ever repeat it to anyone. Forget all about it except to my father. Promise me." Pappa shrugged again. "I promise! All right!" "All right," she said, mournfully, and as he passed down the drive to where the air taxi waited to take him to the spaceport, she wondered if she had signed his death warrant. She wondered if she would ever see him again. She scarcely dared to walk into the house again to face the good, kind Mamma. Maybe when it was all over, she had better kill herself for what she had done to them. 第十二章 幽寂世界   川陀是一个从废墟中重生的世界,在银河核心群星丛聚的太空中,它好像是一颗褪了色的宝石,不断地梦想着往日的光荣与未来的美景。 银河帝国的无形缰索,曾经从这个金属包覆的世界一路延伸到群星的最外缘。当时,这里是一个单一的大都会,其上居住着四百亿行政人员,是人类历史上最宏伟的首都。 等到帝国的末日终于来临,又经过一世纪前的“大浩劫”之后,川陀原本倾颓的势力便加速萎缩,终至永远土崩瓦解。在尸横遍野的战后废墟中,包覆着整个行星的金属也扭曲变形,变成了对昔日光荣一种痛心的嘲讽。 幸存者将这个世界的金属表层一块块剥下,出售给其他行星上的人,以换取粮食种子与牲畜。土壤于是得以重见天日,整个行星也逐渐恢复本来的面貌。随着原始农业的逐步扩展,川陀渐渐遗忘了那个辉煌、伟大的过去。 或者应该说,在沉重庄严的死寂中,若是没有那些至今仍旧耸立的硕大废墟,川陀便能将过去的一切完全忘怀。 艾嘉蒂娅望着地平线上的金属边缘,心中不禁感慨万千。在她眼中看来,帕佛夫妇住的这个村庄,只是几幢房屋聚在一起而已——每一幢都既狭窄又老旧。村庄的周围则布满金黄色的麦田,倒是一幅极美丽的景致。 可是在那里,就在目力不可及之处,仍然存留着往昔的记忆。每当川陀的太阳照耀其上,尚未生锈建筑仍能反射出熠熠金光,仿佛处于一股炽焰之中。她来到川陀已经三个多月,只去过那个地方一次。那次,她爬上了没有接缝的平滑车道,走进人迹罕见、布满尘埃的建筑物中探险。在那些废弃的建筑中,阳光只能通过断垣残壁的缺口照射进来。 她内心感到一种实质的痛楚,这简直就是亵渎。 她拔腿就跑,一路带起了叮叮当当的声响,直到双脚再度踏上柔软的土地。 从此以后,她就只能抱着无限的向往,站在远处热切地眺望,不敢再去打扰这个巨大的残骸。 在这个世界的某一处,她知道,是自己的出生地——就在昔日的帝国图书馆附近。那里是川陀中的川陀、圣地中的圣地!在这个行星上,只有该处在“大浩劫”中幸免于难,而在其后的一个世纪间,它也始终能够安然无恙,完完整整地保存下来,傲然屹立于天地之间。 在那里,哈里•谢顿与他的同仁曾经织成一张不可思议的巨网;在那里,艾布林•米斯解开了那个秘密,惊讶得全身为之僵凝。为了防止他将秘密泄露出去,艾嘉蒂娅的祖母不得不狠下心来,让他的生命提早一刻结束。 在那个帝国图书馆里,她的祖父母曾经住了十年,直到骡死去之后,他们才敢再回到重生的基地。 又过了几十年,她的父亲偕同新婚妻子,为了寻找第二基地的下落,再度来到那个帝国图书馆,可是终究一无所获。在那里,母亲生下了她,不久之后又在那里撒手西归。 她很想再旧地重游,可是普芮姆•帕佛却摇着圆圆的脑袋说:“那儿离此地有好几千哩远,艾卡蒂,而且我们在这里有好多活要干。此外,无缘无故打扰那个地方也实在不好,你知道,那是个圣地……” 可是艾嘉蒂娅心中很明白,真正的原因是他自己不愿意去,这简直就是“骡殿忌讳”的翻版。面对着巨大的历史遗迹,活着的人仿佛都成了侏儒,心中难免会产生这种迷信式的恐惧。 可是,她绝不会为了这件事情,而埋怨这个可爱的小人物,那样实在太不应该了。她已经在川陀住了超过三个月,而在这段时间中,他与她——“爸爸”与“妈妈”——对自己实在是太好了…… 然而她的回报又是什么呢?唉,是把他们也拖下水,跟她自己同归于尽。或许她应该警告他们,说自己将会为他们带来厄运?没有!她完全让他们蒙在鼓里,冒着生命的危险来保护自己。 她实在受不了良心的谴责——可是难道有其他的选择吗? 她勉强打起精神,走下楼梯去吃早饭。走到一半的时候,就听到了他们的谈话声。 普芮姆•帕佛扭了一下臃肿的脖子,才把餐巾塞进衬衣领子里。然后他伸手将水煮蛋取了过来,露出无限满足的表情。 “昨天我进城去了,妈妈,”他一面说,一面挥舞着叉子。吃了一大口之后,后面的话就差点讲不出来了。 “城里头有什么新鲜事,爸爸?”“妈妈”随口问道。然后她就坐下来,仔细地瞧了瞧餐桌,又站起身去拿盐巴。 “啊,可不大好。有一艘从卡尔根方面来的太空船,带来了那边的报纸,说那里发生了战争。” “战争!真的?哈,如果他们的脑袋瓜都坏掉了,就让他们去打个头破血流好了。你的薪水收到了没?爸爸,我再跟你唠叨一次,你去跟库斯柯那个老家伙说,天底下不是只有他那一家合作社。他们付给你的薪水已经少得不像话,我根本不好意思跟朋友透露,可是至少也应该准时付啊!” “准时,按时,及时——”“爸爸”没好气地说,“喂,别在早餐桌上数落我,这会害我每一口都噎在喉咙里。” 他一面说,一面拿那片涂好奶油的面包出气,不一会儿就把那片面包消灭了。然后,他才用较为和缓的语气说:“交战的双方是卡尔根与基地,而且他们已经打了两个月啦。” 他伸出两只手来比画着,最后让那两艘星舰撞到了一块。 “嗯,情况怎么样?” “基地一直占下风。唉,你知道卡尔根,他们全国皆兵,早就有所准备,可是基地却不一样。所以——碰!” “妈妈”突然放下叉子,压低了声音说:“笨蛋!” “啊?” “一点头脑也没有!你那张大嘴巴根本没有闭上的时候。” 她伸手迅速一指,“爸爸”顺着她指的方向看过去,便见到了僵立在门口的艾嘉蒂娅。 她问道:“基地在打仗?” “爸爸”不知所措地看着“妈妈”,然后无可奈何地点了点头。 “他们打了败仗?” “爸爸”又点了点头。 艾嘉蒂娅立时感到喉咙哽住了,简直难过得受不了。她缓缓走到餐桌旁,用很轻的声音问道:“战争结束了吗?” “结束了吗?”“爸爸”故意用高亢的语调,把她的问话重复了一遍,然后再说,“谁说已经结束了?打仗的时候,很多意料不到的事都可能发生。而且……而且……” “坐下来,亲爱的孩子。”“妈妈”安慰她说,“早餐之前谁都不准谈正事,肚子里面没有一点食物,可不是一种健康的身体状况。” 但是艾嘉蒂娅没有理会她,又继续问道:“卡尔根人已经登陆端点星了吗?” “没有,”“爸爸”以严肃的口吻说,“我看到的是上星期的新闻,那时候端点星仍在奋战。这是事实,我说的可都是实话,基地依然勇猛顽强,你要我拿报纸给你看吗?” “要!” 报纸拿来之后,艾嘉蒂娅一面勉强吃着早餐,一面仔仔细细从头读到尾,眼前渐渐变得模糊一片。圣塔尼与柯瑞尔都已经失陷——根本就是不战而降;基地舰队的一个分遣队,在星辰稀疏的伊夫尼星区中伏,几乎全军覆没。 如今,基地只剩下四王国的核心疆域,也就是首任市长塞佛•哈定所开创的领域,仍在负隅顽抗,依然有一线希望。无论如何,她想,一定要赶紧通知父亲,一定要想办法把话传到他耳里,一定要做到! 可是战争阻绝了一切的交通,她又该怎样做呢? 早餐之后,她问“爸爸”说:“你是不是又要去出差了,帕佛先生?” “爸爸”坐在前院草坪的躺椅上,正享受着日光浴。胖胖的手指头夹着一根粗粗的雪茄,不时吸上几口,看起来像是一只快乐的狮子狗。 “出差?”他懒洋洋地说,“谁知道?现在可是难得的闲暇,我的假还没有休完,何必想到什么新差事呢?你住不下去了吗,艾卡蒂?” “我?不,我很喜欢这里。你们待我都非常好,我是说你和帕佛太太。” “爸爸”向她挥挥手,表示这根本不算什么。 艾嘉蒂娅又说:“我是在想那场战争。” “你可别想那种事,你又能够做些什么呢?对于自己根本出不上力的事情,又为什么要瞎操心?” “不过,我想到基地已经失去大多数的农业世界,食物也许要靠配给了。” “爸爸”露出了不安的神色:“别担心,情势会好转的。” 她却根本不管他说了什么,径自滔滔不绝地讲下去:“我真希望自己有办法送粮食给他们,这就是我在想的事情。你可知道,骡死了之后,基地很快就爆发革命,而端点星曾经被孤立过一段时间。汉•普利吉将军继承了骡的位置一阵子,就是他率领舰队包围端点星的。当时粮食短缺得不得了,我爸爸说,他的爸爸曾经告诉他,他们只能拿胺基酸浓缩粉果腹。那种东西简直难吃死了,可是一个鸡蛋就要卖两百点。后来他们及时突围,来自圣塔尼的运粮太空船才能降落。那必定是一段可怕的日子,现在,也许各处都在重演这段历史了。” 顿了一下之后,艾嘉蒂娅又继续说:“你可知道,我打赌基地一定愿意用黑市价格购买粮食,高出市价一倍、两倍或更多都会愿意。哈,如果有什么合作社,例如川陀的哪个合作社,愿意担负起运粮的工作,虽然他们可能会损失几艘太空船,可是我敢打赌,在战争结束之前,每个人都能发一大笔战争财,个个都会变成百万富翁。过去,基地的行商最爱干这种买卖,不论哪里发生战事,他们就会带着满舱当地亟需的货物,以最快的速度飞到那里去赌运气。哎呀,常常一艘船就能够赚两百万点——我是说净利,光是一艘太空商船上的粮食哦。” “爸爸”看来动心了,连雪茄已经熄了都没注意到。他说:“粮食可以卖那么多钱,啊?嗯——可是基地离此地很远哪。” “喔,我知道,我也猜想你不能从这里直接去。如果你搭乘定期太空客船,也许顶多只能到达玛瑟纳或司木西科。到了那里之后,你得雇一艘小型飞候舰,带你偷渡进入边境。” “爸爸”一面用手梳理着头发,一面在心中猛打算盘。 两个星期之后,一切准备工作全部完成。在这段期间,“妈妈”一直埋怨个不停——首先,她硬要说他是去送死;后来,又因为“爸爸”拒绝让她同行,而坚决抗议到底。 “爸爸”说:“妈妈,为什么表现得像个老婆婆呢?我不能带你去,因为这是男人的工作。你以为战争是儿戏吗?是好玩的吗?” “那么你为什么还要去?你算是个男人吗?你这个老不中用的——已经有一只脚、半条胳膊进棺材啦。让年轻小伙子去吧——你这个又胖又秃的老头,最好还是蹲在家里乘凉。” “我可没有秃头,”“爸爸”威风凛凛地回嘴道,“我的头发还多着哩。为什么我就不能赚这笔佣金呢?为什么要找年轻小伙子?你给我听好,这可是几百万的财富啊。” 她自己心里也很明白,于是只好乖乖闭嘴。 在帕佛将要动身之前,艾嘉蒂娅又去找他说了几句话。 她说:“你真的要去端点星吗?” “为什么不呢?是你自己说的,那里的人亟需面包、米饭和马铃薯。所以,我要去跟他们做一笔生意,然后他们就有得吃了。” “好的,那么——还有一件事。如果你要去端点星的话,能不能……可不可以请你去看看我爸爸?” “爸爸”的脸孔皱了起来,显得似乎非常同情的样子。他说:“喔——这根本不必你提醒我。当然,我会去看他的,我会告诉他说你很安全,一切的一切都很好。当战争结束之后,我就会负责带你回去。” “谢谢你,那我现在就告诉你怎么找他。他的全名是杜伦•达瑞尔博士,住在史坦马克镇,就在端点市的郊外,可以搭小型交通飞机去那里,我们家的地址是海峡街五十五号。” “等一等,我把它记下来。” “不,不,”艾嘉蒂娅急忙伸手阻拦,“你不能写半个字,一定只能记在心里——而且要自己单独去找他,不可以请任何人帮忙。” “爸爸”显得莫名其妙,不过他只是耸耸肩,然后说:“好吧,就这么办——史坦马克镇海峡街五十五号,在端点市的郊区,可以坐飞机到那里去。行了吧?” “还有一件事。” “啊?” “你能不能帮我带一句话给他?” “当然没问题。” “我要用悄悄话跟你说。” 于是他把肥胖的面颊凑近她,那句悄悄话就传进了他耳朵里。 “爸爸”两眼一下变得浑圆,他问道:“这就是你要我说的吗?可是它没有任何意义啊。” “他会知道你的意思,你只要告诉他这是我的话,而且我说他会了解其中的意义。你要完全照我的话来说,不可以有一点点不同。你不会忘记吧?” “我怎么会忘呢?只是五个字而已,听我说……” “不,不,”她急得直跳脚,“别说,千万不要对任何人提起。除非见到我爸爸,否则就当作完全没有这回事,请你答应我。” “爸爸”又耸了耸肩:“好!我答应你!” “好——”她用哀戚的口吻说。 然后“爸爸”便沿着马路走去,准备搭乘计程飞船到太空航站。艾嘉蒂娅目送着他的背影,怀疑自己是否将他送上了死路,怀疑自己是否还能再见到他。 她几乎没有勇气走进屋去,再去面对善良慈祥的“妈妈”。自己竟然对他们耍了那么多阴谋,她想,也许当一切都结束之后,她最好马上自杀谢罪。 Chapter 13 End of War QUORISTON, BATTLE OF Fought on 9, 17, 377 F.E. between the forces of the Foundation and those of Lord Stettin of Kalgan, it was the last battle of consequence during the Interregnum .... ENCYCLOPEDIA GALACTICA Jole Turbor, in his new role of war correspondent, found his bulk incased in a naval uniform, and rather liked it. He enjoyed being back on the air, and some of the fierce helplessness of the futile fight against the Second Foundation left him in the excitement of another sort of fight with substantial ships and ordinary men. To be sure, the Foundation's fight had not been remarkable for victories, but it was still possible to be philosophic about the matter. After six months, the hard core of the Foundation was untouched, and the hard core of the Fleet was still in being. With the new additions since the start of the war, it was almost as strong numerically, and stronger technically, than before the defeat at Ifni. And meanwhile, planetary defenses were being strengthened; the armed forces better trained; administrative efficiency was having some of the water squeezed out of it ?and much of the Kalganian's conquering fleet was being wallowed down through the necessity of occupying the "conquered" territory. At the moment, Turbor was with the Third Fleet in the outer reaches of the Anacreonian sector. In line with his policy of making this a "little man's war," he was interviewing Fennel Leemor, Engineer Third Class, volunteer. "Tell us a little about yourself, sailor," said Turbor. "Ain't much to tell," Leemor shuffled his feet and allowed a faint, bashful smile to cover his face, as though he could see all the millions that undoubtedly could see him at the moment. I抦 a Locrian. Got a job in an air-car factory; section head and good pay. I'm married; got two kids, both girls. Say, I couldn't say hello to them, could I ?in case they're listening." "Go ahead, sailor. The video is all yours." "Gosh, thanks." He burbled, "Hello, Milla, in case you're listening, I'm fine. Is Sunni all right? And Tomma? I think of you all the time and maybe I'll be back on furlough after we get back to port. I got your food parcel but I'm sending it back. We get our regular mess, but they say the civilians are a little tight. I guess that's all." "I'll look her up next time I'm on Locris, sailor, and make sure she's not short of food. O.K.?" The young man smiled broadly and nodded his head. "Thank you, Mr. Turbor. I抎 appreciate that." "All right. Suppose you tell us, then?You're a volunteer, aren't you?" "Sure am. If anyone picks a fight with me, I don't have to wait for anyone to drag me in. I joined up the day I heard about the Hober Mallow." "That's a fine spirit. Have you seen much action? I notice "You're wearing two battle stars." "Ptah." The sailor spat. "Those weren't battles, they were chases. The Kalganians don't fight, unless they have odds of five to one or better in their favor. Even then they just edge in and try to cut us up ship by ship. Cousin of mine was at Ifni and he was on a ship that got away, the old Ebling Mis. He says it was the same there. They had their Main Fleet against just a wing division of ours, and down to where we only had five ships left, they kept stalking instead of fighting. We got twice as many of their ships at that fight." "Then you think we're going to win the war?" Sure bet; now that we aren't retreating. Even if things got too bad, that's when I'd expect the Second Foundation to step in. We still got the Seldon Plan ?and they know it, too." Turbor's lips curled a bit. "You're counting on the Second Foundation, then?" The answer came with honest surprise. "Well, doesn't everyone?" Junior Officer Tippellum stepped into Turbor's room after the visicast. He shoved a cigarette at the correspondent and knocked his cap back to a perilous balance on the occiput. "We picked up a prisoner," he said. "Yes?" "Little crazy fellow. Claims to be a neutral ?diplomatic immunity, no less. I don't think they know what to do with him. His name's Palvro, Palver, something like that, and he says he's from Trantor. Don't know what in space he's doing in a war zone." But Turbor had swung to a sitting position on his bunk and the nap he had been about to take was forgotten. He remembered quite well his last interview with Darell, the day after war had been declared and he was shoving off. "Preem Palver," he said. It was a statement. Tippellum paused and let the smoke trickle out the sides of his mouth. "Yeah," he said, "how in space did you know?" "Never mind. Can I see him?" "Space, I can't say. The old man has him in his own room for questioning. Everyone figures he's a spy." "You tell the old man that I know him, if he's who he claims he is. I扞I take the responsibility." Captain Dixyl on the flagship of the Third Fleet watched unremittingly at the Grand Detector. No ship could avoid being a source of subatomic radiation ?not even if it were lying an inert mass ?and each focal point of such radiation was a little sparkle in the three-dimensional field. Each one of the Foundation's ships were accounted for and no sparkle was left over, now that the little spy who claimed to be a neutral had been picked up. For a while, that outside ship had created a stir in the captain's quarters. The tactics might have needed changing on short notice. As it was? "Are you sure you have it?" he asked. Commander Cenn nodded. "I will take my squadron through hyperspace: radius, 10.00 parsecs; theta, 268.52 degrees; phi, 84.15 degrees. Return to origin at 1330. Total absence 11.83 hours." "Right. Now we are going to count on pin-point return as regards both space and time. Understand?" "Yes, captain." He looked at his wrist watch, "My ships will be ready by 0140." "Good," said Captain Dixyl. The Kalganian squadron was not within detector range now, but they would be soon. There was independent information to that effect. Without Cenn's squadron the Foundation forces would be badly outnumbered, but the captain was quite confident. Quite confident. Preem Palver looked sadly about him. First at the tall, skinny admiral; then at the others, everyone in uniform; and now at this last one, big and stout, with his collar open and no tie ?not like the rest ?who said he wanted to speak to him. Jole Turbor was saying: "I am perfectly aware, admiral, of the serious possibilities involved here, but I tell you that if I can be allowed to speak to him for a few minutes, I may be able to settle the current uncertainty." "Is there any reason why you can't question him before me?" Turbor pursed his lips and looked stubborn. "Admiral," he said, "while I have been attached to your ships, the Third Fleet has received an excellent press. You may station men outside the door, if you like, and you may return in five minutes. But, meanwhile, humor me a bit, and your public relations will not suffer. Do you understand me?" He did. Then Turbor in the isolation that followed, turned to Palver, and said, "Quickly ?what is the name of the girl you abducted." And Palver could simply stare round-eyed, and shake his head. "No nonsense," said Turbor. "If you do not answer, you will be a spy and spies are blasted without trial in war time." "Arcadia Darell!" gasped Palver. "Well! All right, then. Is she safe?" Palver nodded. "You had better be sure of that, or it won't be well for you." "She is in good health, perfectly safe," said Palver, palely. The admiral returned, "Well?" "The man, sir, is not a spy. You may believe what he tells you. I vouch for him." "That so?" The admiral frowned. "Then he represents an agricultural co-operative on Trantor that wants to make a trade treaty with Terminus for the delivery of grains and potatoes. Well, all right, but he can't leave now." "Why not?" asked Palver, quickly. "Because we're in the middle of a battle. After it is over ?assuming we're still alive ?we'll take you to Terminus." The Kalganian fleet that spanned through space detected the Foundation ships from an incredible distance and were themselves detected. Like little fireflies in each other's Grand Detectors, they closed in across the emptiness. And the Foundation's admiral frowned and said, "This must be their main push. Look at the numbers." Then, "They won't stand up before us, though; not if Cenn's detachment can be counted on." Commander Cenn had left hours before ?at the first detection of the coming enemy. There was no way of altering the plan now. It worked or it didn't, but the admiral felt quite comfortable. As did the officers. As did the men. Again watch the fireflies. Like a deadly ballet dance, in precise formations, they sparked. The Foundation fleet edged slowly backwards. Hours passed and the fleet veered slowly off, teasing the advancing enemy slightly off course, then more so. In the minds of the dictators of the battle plan, there was a certain volume of space that must be occupied by the Kalganian ships. Out from that volume crept the Foundationers; into it slipped the Kalganians. Those that passed out again were attacked, suddenly and fiercely. Those that stayed within were not touched. It all depended on the reluctance of the ships of Lord Stettin to take the initiative themselves ?on their willingness to remain where none attacked. Captain Dixyl stared frigidly at his wrist watch. It was 1310, "We've got twenty minutes," he said. The lieutenant at his side nodded tensely, "It looks all right so far, captain. We've got more than ninety percent of them boxed. If we can keep them that way? "Yes! If? The Foundation ships were drifting forward again ?very slowly. Not quick enough to urge a Kalganian retreat and just quickly enough to discourage a Kalganian advance. They preferred to wait. And the minutes passed. At 1325, the admiral's buzzer sounded in seventy-five ships of the Foundation's line, and they built up to a maximum acceleration towards the front-plane of the Kalganian fleet, itself three hundred strong. Kalganian shields flared into action, and the vast energy beams flicked out. Every one of the three hundred concentrated in the same direction, towards their mad attackers who bore down relentlessly, uncaringly and? At 1330, fifty ships under Commander Cenn appeared from nowhere, in one single bound through hyperspace to a calculated spot at a calculated time ?and were spaced in tearing fury at the unprepared Kalganian rear. The trap worked perfectly. The Kalganians still had numbers on their side, but they were in no mood to count. Their first effort was to escape and the formation once broken was only the more vulnerable, as the enemy ships bumbled into one another's path. After a while, it took on the proportions of a rat hunt. Of three hundred Kalganian ships, the core and pride of their fleet, some sixty or less, many in a state of near-hopeless disrepair, reached Kalgan once more. The Foundation loss was eight ships out of a total of one hundred twenty-five. Preem Palver landed on Terminus at the height of the celebration. He found the furore distracting, but before he left the planet, he had accomplished two things, and received one request. The two things accomplished were: 1) the conclusion of an agreement whereby Palver's co-operative was to deliver twenty shiploads of certain foodstuffs per month for the next year at a war price, without, thanks to the recent battle, a corresponding war risk, and 2) the transfer to Dr. Darell of Arcadia's five short words. For a startled moment, Darell had stared wide-eyed at him, and then he had made his request. It was to carry an answer back to Arcadia. Palver liked it; it was a simple answer and made sense. It was: "Come back now. There won't be any danger." Lord Stettin was in raging frustration. To watch his every weapon break in his hands; to feel the firm fabric of his military might part like the rotten thread it suddenly turned out to be ?would have turned phlegmaticism itself into flowing lava. And yet he was helpless, and knew it. He hadn't really slept well in weeks. He hadn't shaved in three days. He had canceled all audiences. His admirals were left to themselves and none knew better than the Lord of Kalgan that very little time and no further defeats need elapse before he would have to contend with internal rebellion. Lev Meirus, First Minister, was no help. He stood there, calm and indecently old, with his thin, nervous finger stroking, as always, the wrinkled line from nose to chin. "Well," shouted Stettin at him, "contribute something. We stand here defeated, do you understand? Defeated! And why? I don't know why. There you have it. I don't know why. Do you know why?" "I think so," said Meirus, calmly. "Treason!" The word came out softly, and other words followed as softly. "You've known of treason, and you've kept quiet. You served the fool I ejected from the First Citizenship and you think you can serve whatever foul rat replaces me. If you have acted so, I will extract your entrails for it and burn them before your living eyes." Meirus was unmoved. "I have tried to fill you with my own doubts, not once, but many times. I have dinned it in your ears and you have preferred the advice of others because it stuffed your ego better. Matters have turned out not as I feared, but even worse. If you do not care to listen now, say so, sir, and I shall leave, and, in due course, deal with your successor, whose first act, no doubt, will be to sign a treaty of peace." Stettin stared at him red-eyed, enormous fists slowly clenching and unclenching. "Speak, you gray slug. Speak!" "I have told you often, sir, that you are not the Mule. You may control ships and guns but you cannot control the minds of your subjects. Are you aware, sir, of who it is you are fighting? You fight the Foundation, which is never defeated ?the Foundation, which is protected by the Seldon Plan ?the Foundation, which is destined to form a new Empire." "There is no Plan. No longer. Munn has said so." "Then Munn is wrong. And if he were right, what then? You and I, sir, are not the people. The men and women of Kalgan and its subject worlds believe utterly and deeply in the Seldon Plan as do all the inhabitants of this end of the Galaxy. Nearly four hundred years of history teach the fact that the Foundation cannot be beaten. Neither the kingdoms nor the warlords nor the old Galactic Empire itself could do it." "The Mule did it." "Exactly, and he was beyond calculation ?and you are not. What is worse, the people know that you are not. So your ships go into battle fearing defeat in some unknown way. The insubstantial fabric of the Plan hangs over them so that they are cautious and look before they attack and wonder a little too much. While on the other side, that same insubstantial fabric fills the enemy with confidence, removes fear, maintains morale in the face of early defeats. Why not? The Foundation has always been defeated at first and has always won in the end. "And your own morale, sir? You stand everywhere on enemy territory. Your own dominions have not been invaded; are still not in danger of invasion ?yet you are defeated. You don't believe in the possibility, even, of victory, because you know there is none. "Stoop, then, or you will be beaten to your knees. Stoop voluntarily, and you may save a remnant. You have depended on metal and power and they have sustained you as far as they could. You have ignored mind and morale and they have failed you. Now, take my advice. You have the Foundation man, Homir Munn. Release him. Send him back to Terminus and he will carry your peace offers." Stettin's teeth ground behind his pale, set lips. But what choice had he? On the first day of the new year, Homir Munn left Kalgan again. More than six months had passed since he had left Terminus and in the interim, a war had raged and faded. He had come alone, but he left escorted. He had come a simple man of private life; he left the unappointed but nevertheless, actual, ambassador of peace. And what had most changed was his early concern over the Second Foundation. He laughed at the thought of that: and pictured in luxuriant detail the final revelation to Dr. Darell, to that energetic, young competent, Anthor, to all of them? He knew. He, Homir Munn, finally knew the truth. 第十三章 终战   裘尔•屠博现任的职务是战地特派员,他庞大的身躯穿上了舰队制服,这让他满心欢喜。他非常高兴自己能够再跟观众见面。而且,由于过去是与隐形的第二基地对抗,始终充满了无可奈何的无力感,如今面对着有形的战舰与普通的敌人,这使他的精神为之一振,感到一股异常的兴奋。 事实上,直到目前为止,基地几乎还没打过胜仗,不过仔细分析如今的情势,仍然有值得称道的地方。过去六个月来,基地的核心领域仍旧安然无恙,而舰队的核心武力也依然存在。自从开战以来,舰队便不断在各处招兵买马,因此与伊夫尼那场败仗之前比较,基地的有形战力几乎未曾减少,而无形战力却变得更为强大。 在此同时,各个世界的星防也已经强化,战斗部队的训练比以往更精实,而且行政效率也大幅提升,再也没有过去那种拖泥带水的现象。 反观卡尔根,由于必须派驻大量兵力占领那些“占领区”,使许多远征舰队都变得英雄无用武之地。 屠博现在是第三舰队的随军记者,这个舰队目前正在安纳克瑞昂外围星区巡弋。他准备将这场战争报导成“小人物的战争”,因此采访的重点都是中下阶级的官兵。此时,他正在访问志愿参军的三级技师菲美尔•李莫。 “战士,请你先自我介绍一下。”屠博说。 “没啥好说的。”李莫用脚踢了踢甲板,勉强露出一个腼腆的微笑,仿佛他也能看到数百万名观众一样。然后他开始说:“我是卢奎斯人,在当地的飞车厂工作,是一个部门的小主管,收入相当不错。我已经结婚了,有两个小孩,都是女孩。对了,我能不能跟她们打个招呼——她们可能正在收看呢。” “请便,战士,超视现在都是你的。” “哇,太感谢了。”于是他就一口气说道:“嗨,米拉,希望你正在看这个报导。我一切都很好,珊妮好吗?还有杜玛呢?我无时无刻不在想念你们,等我们回到舰队基地后,我也许就能放假回家一趟。你们寄来的食品包裹已经收到了,不过我准备把它再寄回去,我们每一餐都吃得很好,可是听说平民的粮食比较缺乏——我想说的就是这些了。” “战士,下次我再到卢奎斯去的时候,一定会去探望她,确定一下她们的粮食是否充足,好吗?” 年轻人笑得更开心了,他不停地点头,还说:“谢谢你,屠博先生,我非常感激。” “好啦,那么现在请你告诉我们——你是一名志愿军,对不对?” “我当然是,既然有人向我们挑衅,我不需要等任何人征召。在我听到‘侯伯•马洛号’遇难的那天,我就立刻从军了。” “你的爱国心真是令人敬佩。你经历过许多次实战吗?我注意到你佩戴着两枚战功勋章。” “呸,”他做了一个吐痰的动作,又说,“那些根本不能算战斗,简直就是老鹰抓小鸡。如果没有五比一或者更大的优势,卡尔根人绝对不会打。即使占有那种优势,他们也只敢慢慢逼近,先把我们的星舰一艘艘隔离起来。我的一个表兄参加了伊夫尼之役,他在一艘侥幸逃脱的星舰上,就是那艘老旧的‘艾布林•米斯号’。他告诉我说,那场战役的情况也完全一样,他们用主力舰队来对付我们的侧翼分队,直到我们只剩下五艘星舰了,他们还是跟在我们屁股后面,仍旧没有胆量开火。在那场战役中,他们损失的船舰是我们的两倍。” “所以你认为,我们将会赢得这场战争?” “绝对没有问题,尤其我们现在已经不再撤退了。即使情势变得非常不利,那也没什么关系,我相信那时第二基地便会介入。我们仍然有谢顿计划作为后盾——而他们也知道这件事。” 屠博微微噘起嘴来,又问:“这么说,你在指望第二基地的援助喽?” 对方的回答竟然带着明显的讶异:“啊,难道不是大家都这么想吗?” 当新闻幕的报导结束后,下级军官提波路走进屠博的房间。他递了一根香烟给这位特派员,然后把自己的军帽向后一推,推到了后脑勺的临界平衡点。 “我们抓到了一个战俘。”他说。 “是吗?”屠博靠在床上懒洋洋地答道。 “是一个疯疯颠颠的小矮子,声称他是个中立者……还说拥有什么外交豁免权,我不相信他们知道该拿他怎么办。他的名字好像叫帕夫罗,还是帕佛,或者诸如此类的名字,而且他自称是从川陀来的。真不知道他到战区来干什么。” 屠博却突然从床上坐起来——他本来想睡个午觉,如今却已睡意全消。在宣战的第二天,他准备随军出发时,曾向达瑞尔当面告辞。达瑞尔那天说的话,他依然记忆犹新。 “普芮姆•帕佛——”这显然是一个肯定句。 提波路愣了一下,吸入的烟从嘴角缓缓逸出。过了一会儿,他才问:“是啊,你是怎么知道的?” “别管了,我能见他吗?” “天啊,我不敢说。司令把他叫到房间去问话,大家都认为他是个间谍。” “你去告诉司令,说我认识这个人。只要他没有谎报身份,我就可以负一切责任。” 第三舰队旗舰的狄克席尔舰长,此时正目不转睛地盯着大域侦测器。每一艘船舰都是一个核能辐射源,即使静止不动时也不例外。而在侦测器的三维像场中,这种辐射源每个都对应一个细小的光点。 剔除了基地的每一艘船舰之后,并没有其他的光点剩下来——因为那艘自称中立的间谍太空船已经被捕。刚才,在舰长的寝室中,那艘小太空船曾经引起一阵大恐慌,战术差点被迫临时改变。事实上…… “你确定完全明白了吗?”他问道。 森恩中校点了点头,回答道:“我将率领一个分遣队,经由超空间到达目的地。距离:幺洞点洞洞秒差距;俯角:八四点幺五度;方位角:两六八点五两度。将在‘幺三三洞’时再回到原点,共计脱队时间幺幺点八三小时。” “很好,我们全仰赖你准时回到准确的空间,丝毫误差都不允许,明白吗?” “报告舰长,明白了。”他看了看腕表:“我旗下的星舰将在‘洞幺四洞’时完成一切准备。” “好的。”狄克席尔舰长说。 现在,卡尔根的分遣舰队尚未进入侦测范围之内,不过他们很快就会出现的,因为另有可靠的情报指出这一点。少了森恩中校率领的分遣队,基地兵力与敌军的比例将变得极为悬殊,然而舰长却相当有信心,相当、相当地有信心。 普芮姆•帕佛以凄然的目光环顾四周,首先看到的是那位又高又瘦的司令官,然后他再看了看其他人,发现每一位都穿着整齐的军服。最后,他的目光停在一个高大魁梧的男子身上,那人的领子敞开着,也没有打领带,跟其他人看起来不太一样——但他却要求跟帕佛单独谈谈。 裘尔•屠博说道:“司令,我完全了解这件事情可能的严重后果,不过我也要告诉你,如果你允许我跟他私下谈个几分钟,也许我就有办法解决你们无法确定的问题。” “难道有任何原因,使你不能在我面前询问他吗?” 屠博又噘起嘴来,露出倔强的表情。他说:“司令,自从我跟随你们的舰队采访以来,一直在报导中给予第三舰队许多好评。如果你不放心,可以派人在门口站岗,而你在五分钟之后就可以回来。我只请求你迁就我这么一点,这样你的公共关系保证不会受到任何伤害。你了解我的意思吗?” 他果然了解。 等到房间内只剩下他们两人的时候,屠博立刻转身对帕佛说:“快说——你拐走的那个女孩叫什么名字?” 帕佛却只是把双眼瞪得圆圆的,同时不断摇头。 “别装蒜了,”屠博说:“如果你不回答的话,就会被当成间谍来处置。现在是战时,间谍不必经过审判就可以枪毙。” “艾嘉蒂娅•达瑞尔!”帕佛喘着气说。 “太好啦!好,那么,她平安吗?” 帕佛点了点头。 “你最好能够确定这一点,否则你的麻烦就大了。” “她的身体健康,而且绝对安全。”帕佛吓得脸色苍白。 此时舰队司令又回来了,他立刻问道:“怎么样?” “阁下,这个人并不是间谍。你可以相信他告诉你的一切,我能为他担保。” “是吗?”司令皱着眉说,“那么,他真的代表川陀的一个农产合作社,想要跟端点星签订一个贸易协定,由他们负责运送谷物和马铃薯给基地?嗯,好吧,不过他现在还不能离开。” “为什么不能?”帕佛马上接口问道。 “因为我们正在进行一场战役,等到打完这一仗——假如我们还活着的话——就会带你到端点星去。” 卡尔根的庞大舰队从太空深处渐渐逼近,在几乎不可思议的距离之外,就已经侦测到了基地的星舰。与此同时,基地也同样侦测到了敌军的行踪。在双方的大域侦测器中,对方的舰队看起来都像一团荧火虫。两团荧火虫疾飞过虚无的太空,双方的距离越来越接近。 基地司令官皱着眉头说:“这一定就是他们的主攻舰队了,看看有多少艘星舰。不过他们没有机会布好阵势了——只要森恩的分遣队能圆满完成任务。” 森恩中校在几小时前就已离开,当时才刚发现敌军的踪迹。如今计划无法再做任何更改,不成功便成仁。不过司令却相当乐观,而其他的军官,乃至所有的士兵、舰员也都有同感。 再来看看这两团荧火虫吧。 在漆黑的太空中,它们同时放出幽暗的光芒。两者都编成了整齐的队形,仿佛同台表演一场死亡之舞。 然后,基地舰队开始渐渐退却。数个小时过去了,基地舰队始终在缓缓转向,引诱不断推进的敌军偏离原先的航道,一点又一点地越偏越远。 作战计划拟定者的企图,是要使卡尔根舰队占据太空中某个特定范围。在这个范围之外,埋伏着许多基地的人马。等到卡尔根的星舰全部进入之后,如果有任何一艘想再飞出来,一律会遭到猛烈的突袭,而那些留滞其中的却能安然无事。 整个作战计划的关键,就在于算准了史铁亭统领麾下的舰队,绝对没有任何人愿意采取主动,每一艘都想留在不受攻击的位置。 狄克席尔舰长以冰冷的目光看了看腕表,现在时间是“二二一○”时。 “我们还有二十分钟。”他说。 他身边的副官紧张地点点头:“报告舰长,直到目前为止,一切看来都很顺利。他们已有超过九成的星舰钻了进去,如果我们能让他们一直留在……” “是啊!如果——” 基地的星舰再度向前慢慢推进——速度非常之慢,如此不至于将卡尔根人吓退,却足以吓得他们不敢继续前进。果然,卡尔根舰队决定停下来静观其变。 时间一分一秒地过去。 到了“二三一五”时,司令官的命令传遍了基地舰队的七十五艘星舰。所有的星舰立刻全速前进,以最大加速度冲向卡尔根舰队的正面。卡尔根舰队的三百艘星舰同时升起防护罩,并且立刻射出强大的能束。三百艘星舰的运动方向完全一致,共同迎向那些发动疯狂突袭的无情敌军…… 到了“二三二○”时,森恩中校率领的五十艘星舰陡然出现——他们藉着一次超空间跃迁,在预计的准确时间到达准确的地点——对措手不及的卡尔根后卫施以迎头痛击。 整个行动完美无缺。 此时,卡尔根舰队在数量上仍占优势,可是他们却无暇注意这一点,全都只想走为上策。而队形一旦散掉,在敌舰逼近时就更容易受到攻击。 整个形势简直变成了猫捉老鼠。 这支由三百艘星舰所组成的远征舰队,是卡尔根舰队的中坚与精华。然而在战役结束之后,只有将近六十艘星舰重返卡尔根,其中许多都还受到重创,已经几近一团废铁。而基地参战的一百二十五艘星舰中,只有八艘遭敌军击毁。 时间是基地纪元三七七年的第三天。 普芮姆•帕佛抵达端点星的时候,正值庆祝活动的最高潮。兴奋疯狂的气氛令他眼花缭乱,差点误了正事。不过在他离开这个行星之前,还是顺利完成了两件任务,并且接受了一项嘱托。 那两件完成的任务是: (一)与基地达成一项协议,双方同意在未来一年内,由帕佛代表的合作社每月运来二十艘船的粮食,基地一律以战时价格收购。然而,拜最近那场大捷之赐,其实已经没有任何战争的风险。 (二)将艾嘉蒂娅交代的五个字转达给了达瑞尔博士。 达瑞尔听了之后,马上张大眼睛瞪着帕佛,什么话都说不出来。愣了好一阵子,他才向帕佛提出一项请求,请他带一句回话给艾嘉蒂娅。 帕佛很喜欢这件差事,因为那是一个很简单的答覆,而且十分合情合理。那句话是:“赶快回来吧,不会再有任何危险了。” 此时,史铁亭统领又怒又恼。他眼睁睁看着自己心爱的武器,一件件都毁在自己手中:他的武力原是一张强韧的巨网,却在一夕之间变成了腐朽的破布——这足以使得最冷静的人,也会像火山爆发一般喷出熔岩。但纵使他火冒三万丈,却根本莫可奈何,他自己也完全心知肚明。 这几周以来,他未曾睡过一晚的好觉,如今已经有三天没刮脸了。他取消了一切活动,连麾下的将军们也没办法与他联络。因为没有任何人比他自己更了解,内乱的爆发已经迫在眉睫,即使卡尔根从此不再吃任何败仗,叛变的烽火也可能一触即发。 而首相列夫•麦拉斯也完全束手无策。他现在站在一旁,表现得极为冷静,看起来却像个猥琐的糟老头子。他右手那根瘦削而神经质的食指,又习惯性地抚摸着他的老脸,从鼻头一直摸到下巴,然后再回到鼻头,如此反覆来回。 “喂!”史铁亭对他咆哮道,“快贡献一点什么意见。我们现在吃了败仗,你明白吗?被打败了!可是为什么呢?我根本不知道。你都听到了,我不知道为什么,你知道原因吗?” “我想我知道。”麦拉斯以镇定的口气说道。 “叛变,”史铁亭故意用轻柔的语调说,其后的每句话也都是同样轻柔,“你知道有人叛变,可是你却故意不作声。你伺候过那个被我赶下台的第一公民,就以为不论哪个龌龊的鼠辈取代我,你也依旧能高枕无忧地当你的首相。我告诉你,如果你真的在打这个主意,我就要把你的五脏六腑通通挖出来,在你的眼前一把火烧掉。” 麦拉斯却毫不动容地说:“我曾不只一次想告诉您我的疑虑,而且还试了好多次。我不停地在您的耳旁唠唠叨叨,可是您却宁愿相信别人的话,因为那些话更能够满足您的虚荣心。如今的情势,已经变得比我当初所担心的更糟,如果您现在还不想听我的话,那就请您直说,我可以立即离去。而不久之后,我会再回来为您的继任者献计。不论是谁继任您的位置,他所采取的第一个行动,一定都是签署和平条约。” 史铁串用冒火的眼睛瞪着他,一双巨掌慢慢地握紧再松开,松开再握紧。最后他终于开口:“说吧,你这个迟钝的糟老头,给我说!” “我过去常常提醒您,阁下,您并不是骡。您也许能够控制船舰和武器,却无法控制子民的心灵。您可明白,阁下,您究竟是在跟什么人作战?您的对手是基地,永远不败的基地——这个基地受到谢顿计划的保护,这个基地注定要建立一个新的帝国。” “根本没有什么计划,早就没有了,是孟恩亲口告诉我的。” “那么是孟恩搞错了,即使他说的是对的,那又怎么样呢?您和我,阁下,并不能代表全体人民。卡尔根的男女老幼,以及所有藩属世界的民众,每一个人都对谢顿计划深信不疑;此外,这也是银河这一端所有居民的共识。过去近四百年的历史,让我们学到了一个真理,那就是任何人都无法击败基地——独立称王的国王不能,割据一方的军阀不能,甚至连旧帝国本身也做不到。” “但是骡却做到了。” “一点都没错,可是他并不在算计之中——然而您却不是骡。更糟的是,民众全都知道这个事实。所以当您的舰队在进行战斗时,总是担心会被什么未知的力量击败。谢顿计划那张无形的巨网罩在他们头上,所以军人全都畏畏缩缩,进攻之前总是犹疑不决,小心谨慎得过了头。反观基地那一方,同样的那张巨网却是他们的无形防护罩,使他们个个信心备增,心中毫无一丝恐惧,即使面对初期的挫败,却仍旧能够凝聚士气。有什么好怕的呢?回顾历史,在任何战争或冲突刚开始的时候,基地一向屈居下风,却总是能够赢得最后的胜利。” “可是您自己的士气呢,阁下?从头到尾您都是主动出击,自己的势力范围从未被敌军侵入,目前也没有失守的危险——但您却打了败仗。甚至可以说,您自己也不相信有胜利的可能,因为您知道那是根本不存在的幻想。所以说,认输吧,否则您终将被迫屈膝。现在就主动低头,也许还能够保留一点什么。您一向倚仗武力和权势,将这些有形力量发挥到极限,但却始终忽略精神与士气,最后终于败在这些无形的力量之下。现在,接受我的劝告吧,您这里现成就有一个基地来的人,就是那位侯密尔•孟恩。赶快将他释放,送他回端点星去,让他把您的求和信息带回去。” 史铁亭紧抿着苍白、倔强的嘴唇,暗自咬牙切齿。然而他还有别的选择吗? 在新的一年开始后的第八天,侯密尔•孟恩终于离开了卡尔根。他离开端点星已经超过七个月,在这段期间中,曾经发生过一场激烈的战争,如今则大势已定,只剩下一些荡漾的余波。 当初,他自己驾着太空游艇来到卡尔根,现在却有舰队护送离去;当初,他是以私人身份前来,没有任何官方色彩,如今却是一个有实无名的和平特使。 不过对于侯密尔而言,最大的变化在于他对第二基地的看法。每当想到这里,他都不禁开怀大笑,并且想像着当自己向达瑞尔博士,以及那个年轻、能干、精力充沛的安索,还有其他的人揭示真正答案时,将会是一幅什么样的画面。 他知道了,他——侯密尔•孟恩——终于知道了真相。 Chapter 14 "I Know ..." The last two months of the Stettinian war did not lag for Homir. In his unusual office as Mediator Extraordinary, he found himself the center of interstellar affairs, a role he could not help but find pleasing. There were no further major battles ?a few accidental skirmishes that could scarcely count ?and the terms of the treaty were hammered out with little necessity for concessions on the part of the Foundation. Stettin retained his office, but scarcely anything else. His navy was dismantled; his possessions outside the home system itself made autonomous and allowed to vote for return to previous status, full independence or confederation within the Foundation, as they chose. The war was formally ended on an asteroid in Terminus' own stellar system; site of the Foundation's oldest naval base. Lev Meirus signed for Kalgan, and Homir was an interested spectator. Throughout all that period he did not see Dr. Darell, nor any of the others. But it scarcely mattered. His news would keep ?and, as always, he smiled at the thought. Dr. Darell returned to Terminus some weeks after VK day, and that same evening, his house served as the meeting place for the five men who, ten months earlier, had laid their first plans. They lingered over dinner and then over wine as though hesitating to return again to the old subject. It was Jole Turbor, who, peering steadily into the purple depths of the wineglass with one eye, muttered, rather than said, "Well, Homir, you are a man of affairs now, I see. You handled matters well." "I?" Munn laughed loudly and joyously. For some reason, he had not stuttered in months. "I hadn't a thing to do with it. It was Arcadia. By the by, Darell, how is she? She's coming back from Trantor, I heard?" "You heard correctly," said Darell, quietly. "Her ship should dock within the week." He looked, with veiled eyes, at the others, but there were only confused, amorphous exclamations of pleasure. Nothing else. Turbor said, "Then it's over, really. Who would have predicted all this ten months ago. Munn's been to Kalgan and back. Arcadia's been to Kalgan and Trantor and is coming back. We've had a war and won it, by Space. They tell you that the vast sweeps of history can be predicted, but doesn't it seem conceivable that all that has just happened, with its absolute confusion to those of us who lived through it, couldn't possibly have been predicted." "Nonsense," said Anthor, acidly. "What makes you so triumphant, anyway? You talk as though we have really won a war, when actually we have won nothing but a petty brawl which has served only to distract our minds from the real enemy." There was an uncomfortable silence, in which only Homir Munn's slight smile struck a discordant note. And Anthor struck the arm of his chair with a balled and furyfilled fist, "Yes, I refer to the Second Foundation. There is no mention of it and, if I judge correctly, every effort to have no thought of it. Is it because this fallacious atmosphere of victory that palls over this world of idiots is so attractive that you feel you must participate? Turn somersaults then, handspring your way into a wall, pound one another's back and throw confetti out the window. Do whatever you please, only get it out of your system ?and when you are quite done and you are yourselves again, return and let us discuss that problem which exists now precisely as it did ten months ago when you sat here with eyes cocked over your shoulders for fear of you knew not what. Do you really think that the Mind-masters of the Second Foundation are less to be feared because you have beat down a foolish wielder of spaceships." He paused, red-faced and panting. Munn said quietly, "Will you hear me speak now, Anthor? Or do you prefer to continue your role as ranting conspirator?" "Have your say, Homir," said Darell, "but let's all of us refrain from over-picturesqueness of language. It's a very good thing in its place, but at present, it bores me." Homir Munn leaned back in his armchair and carefully refilled his glass from the decanter at his elbow. "I was sent to Kalgan," he said, "to find out what I could from the records contained in the Mule's Palace. I spent several months doing so. I seek no credit for that accomplishment. As I have indicated, it was Arcadia whose ingenuous intermeddling obtained the entry for me. Nevertheless, the fact remains that to my original knowledge of the Mule's life and times, which, I submit, was not small, I have added the fruits of much labor among primary evidence which has been available to no one else. "I am, therefore, in a unique position to estimate the true danger of the Second Foundation; much more so than is our excitable friend here." "And," grated Anthor, "what is your estimate of that danger?" "Why, zero." A short pause, and Elvett Semic asked with an air of surprised disbelief, "You mean zero danger?" "Certainly. Friends, there is no Second Foundation!" Anthor's eyelids closed slowly and he sat there, face pale and expressionless. Munn continued, aftention-centering and loving it, "And what is more, there was never one." "On what," asked Darell, "do you base this surprising conclusion?" "I deny," said Munn, "that it is surprising. You all know the story of the Mule's search for the Second Foundation. But what do you know of the intensity of that search ?of the single-mindedness of it. He had tremendous resources at his disposal and he spared none of it. He was single-minded ?and yet he failed. No Second Foundation was found." "One could scarcely expect it to be found," pointed out Turbor, restlessly. "It had means of protecting itself against inquiring minds." "Even when the mind that is inquiring is the Mule's mutant mentality? I think not. But come, you do not expect me to give you the gist of fifty volumes of reports in five minutes. All of it, by the terms of the peace treaty will be part of the Seldon Historical Museum eventually, and you will all be free to be as leisurely in your analysis as I have been. You will find his conclusion plainly stated, however, and that I have already expressed. There is not, and has never been, any Second Foundation." Semic interposed, "Well, what stopped the Mule, then?" "Great Galaxy, what do you suppose stopped him? Death did; as it will stop all of us. The greatest superstition of the age is that the Mule was somehow stopped in an all-conquering career by some mysterious entities superior even to himself. It is the result of looking at everything in wrong focus. "Certainly no one in the Galaxy can help knowing that the Mule was a freak, physical as well as mental. He died in his thirties because his ill-adjusted body could no longer struggle its creaking machinery along. For several years before his death he was an invalid. His best health was never more than an ordinary man's feebleness. All right, then. He conquered the Galaxy and, in the ordinary course of nature, proceeded to die. It's a wonder he proceeded as long and as well as he did. Friends, it's down in the very clearest print. You have only to have patience. You have only to try to look at all facts in new focus." Darell said, thoughtfully, "Good, let us try that Munn. It would be an interesting attempt and, if nothing else, would help oil our thoughts. These tampered men ?the records of which Anthor brought to us nearly a year ago, what of them? Help us to see them in focus." "Easily. How old a science is encephalographic analysis? Or, put it another way, how well-developed is the study of neuronic pathways." "We are at the beginning in this respect. Granted," said Darell. "Right. How certain can we be then as to the interpretation of what I've heard Anthor and yourself call the Tamper Plateau. You have your theories, but how certain can you be. Certain enough to consider it a firm basis for the existence of a mighty force for which all other evidence is negative? It's always easy to explain the unknown by postulating a superhuman and arbitrary will. "It's a very human phenomenon. There have been cases all through Galactic history where isolated planetary systems have reverted to savagery, and what have we learned there? In every case, such savages attribute the to-them-incomprehensible forces of Nature ?storms, pestilences, droughts ?to sentient beings more powerful and more arbitrary than men. "It is called anthropomorphism, I believe, and in this respect, we are savages and indulge in it. Knowing little of mental science, we blame anything we don't know on supermen ?those of the Second Foundation in this case, based on the hint thrown us by Seldon." "Oh," broke in Anthor, "then you do remember Seldon. I thought you had forgotten. Seldon did say there was a Second Foundation. Get that in focus. "And are you aware then of all Seldon's purposes. Do you know what necessities were involved in his calculations? The Second Foundation may have been a very necessary scarecrow, with a highly specific end in view. How did we defeat Kalgan, for instance? What were you saying in your last series of articles, Turbor?" Turbor stirred his bulk. "Yes, I see what "You're driving at. I was on Kalgan towards the end, Darell, and it was quite obvious that morale on the planet was incredibly bad. I looked through their news-records and ?well. they expected to be beaten. Actually, they were completely unmanned by the thought that eventually the Second Foundation would take a hand, on the side of the First, naturally." "Quite right," said Munn. "I was there all through the war. I told Stettin there was no Second Foundation and he believed me. He felt safe. But there was no way of making the people suddenly disbelieve what they had believed all their lives, so that the myth eventually served a very useful purpose in Seldon's cosmic chess game." But Anthor's eyes opened, quite suddenly, and fixed themselves sardonically on Munn's countenance. "I say you lie." Homir turned pale, "I don't see that I have to accept, much less answer, an accusation of that nature." "I say it without any intention of personal offense. You cannot help lying; you don't realize that you are. But you lie just the same." Semic laid his withered hand on the young man's sleeve. "Take a breath, young fella." Anthor shook him off, none too gently, and said, "I'm out of patience with all of you. I haven't seen this man more than half a dozen times in my life, yet I find the change in him unbelievable. The rest of you have known him for years, yet pass it by. It is enough to drive one mad. Do you call this man you've been listening to Homir Munn? He is not the Homir Munn I knew." A medley of shock; above which Munn's voice cried, "You claim me to be an impostor?" "Perhaps not in the ordinary sense," shouted Anthor above the din, "but an impostor nonetheless. Quiet, everyone! I demand to be heard." He frowned them ferociously into obedience. "Do any of you remember Homir Munn as I do ?the introverted librarian who never talked without obvious embarrassment; the man of tense and nervous voice, who stuttered out his uncertain sentences? Does this man sound like him? He's fluent, he's confident, he's fun of theories, and, by Space, he doesn't stutter. Is he the same person?" Even Munn looked confused, and Pelleas Anthor drove on. "Well, shall we test him?" "How?" asked Darell. "You ask how? There is the obvious way. You have his encephalographic record of ten months ago, haven't you? Run one again, and compare." He pointed at the frowning librarian, and said violently, "I dare him to refuse to subject himself to analysis." "I don't object," said Munn, defiantly. "I am the man I always was." "Can you know?" said Anthor with contempt. "I抣l go further. I trust no one here. I want everyone to undergo analysis. There has been a war. Munn has been on Kalgan; Turbor has been on board ship and all over the war areas. Darell and Semic have been absent, too ?I have no idea where. Only I have remained here in seclusion and safety, and I no longer trust any of the rest of you. And to play fair, I抣l submit to testing as well. Are we agreed then? Or do I leave now and go my own way?" Turbor shrugged and said, "I have no objection." "I have already said I don't," said Munn. Semic moved a hand in silent assent, and Anthor waited for Darell. Finally, Darell nodded his head. "Take me first," said Anthor. The needles traced their delicate way across the cross-hatchings as the young neurologist sat frozen in the reclining seat, with lidded eyes brooding heavily. From the files, Darell removed the folder containing Anthor's old encephalographic record. He showed them to Anthor. "That's your own signature, isn't it?" "Yes, yes. It's my record. Make the comparison." The scanner threw old and new on to the screen. All six curves in each recording were there, and in the darkness, Munn's voice sounded in harsh clarity. "Well, now, look there. There's a change." "Those are the primary waves of the frontal lobe. It doesn't mean a thing, Homir. Those additional jags you're pointing to are just anger. It's the others that count." He touched a control knob and the six pairs melted into one another and coincided. The deeper amplitude of primaries alone introduced doubling. "Satisfied?" asked Anthor. Darell nodded curtly and took the seat himself. Semic followed him and Turbor followed him. Silently the curves were collected; silently they were compared. Munn was the last to take his seat. For a moment, he hesitated, then, with a touch of desperation in his voice, he said, "Well now, look, I'm coming in last and I'm under tension. I expect due allowance to be made for that." "There will be," Darell assured him. "No conscious emotion of yours will affect more than the primaries and they are not important." It might have been hours, in the utter silence that followed And then in the darkness of the comparison, Anthor said huskily: "Sure, sure, it's only the onset of a complex. Isn't that what he told us? No such thing as tampering; it's all a silly anthropomorphic notion ?but look at it! A coincidence I suppose." "What's the matter?" shrieked Munn. Darell's hand was tight on the librarian's shoulder. "Quiet, Munn ?you've been handled; you've been adjusted by them." Then the light went on, and Munn was looking about him with broken eyes, making a horrible attempt to smile. "You can't be serious, surely. There is a purpose to this. You're testing me." But Darell only shook his head. "No, no, Homir. It's true." The librarian's eyes were filled with tears, suddenly. "I don't feel any different. I can't believe it." With sudden conviction: "You are all in this. It's a conspiracy." Darell attempted a soothing gesture, and his hand was struck aside. Munn snarled, "You're planning to kill me. By Space, you're planning to kill me." With a lunge, Anthor was upon him. There was the sharp crack of bone against bone, and Homir was limp and flaccid with that look of fear frozen on his face. Anthor rose shakily, and said, "We'd better tie and gag him. Later, we can decide what to do." He brushed his long hair back. Turbor said, "How did you guess there was something wrong with him?" Anthor turned sardonically upon him. "It wasn't difficult. You see, I happen to know where the Second Foundation really is." Successive shocks have a decreasing effect? It was with actual mildness that Semic asked, "Are you sure? I mean we抳e just gone through this sort of business with Munn? This isn't quite the same," returned Anthor. "Darell, the day the war started, I spoke to you most seriously. I tried to have you leave Terminus. I would have told you then what I will tell you now, if I had been able to trust you." "You mean you have known the answer for half a year?" smiled Darell. "I have known it from the time I learned that Arcadia had left for Trantor." And Darell started to his feet in sudden consternation. "What had Arcadia to do with it? What are you implying?" "Absolutely nothing that is not plain on the face of all the events we know so well. Arcadia goes to Kalgan and flees in terror to the very center of the Galaxy, rather than return home. Lieutenant Dirige, our best agent on Kalgan is tampered with. Homir Munn goes to Kalgan and he is tampered with. The Mule conquered the Galaxy, but, queerly enough, he made Kalgan his headquarters, and it occurs to me to wonder if he was conqueror or, perhaps, tool. At every turn, we meet with Kalgan, Kalgan ?nothing but Kalgan, the world that somehow survived untouched all the struggles of the warlords for over a century." "Your conclusion, then." "Is obvious," Anthor's eyes were intense. "The Second Foundation is on Kalgan." Turbor interrupted. "I was on Kalgan, Anthor. I was there last week. If there was any Second Foundation on it, I'm mad. Personally, I think you're mad." The young man whirled on him savagely. "Then you're a fat fool. What do you expect the Second Foundation to be? A grammar school? Do you think that Radiant Fields in tight beams spell out 慡econd Foundation' in green and purple along the incoming spaceship routes? Listen to me, Turbor. Wherever they are, they form a tight oligarchy. They must be as well hidden on the world on which they exist, as the world itself is in the Galaxy as a whole." Turbor's jaw muscles writhed. "I don't like your attitude, Anthor." "That certainly disturbs me," was the sarcastic response. "Take a look about you here on Terminus. We抮e at the center ?the core ?the origin of the First Foundation with all its knowledge of physical science. Well, how many of the population are physical scientists? Can you operate an Energy Transmitting Station? What do you know of the operation of a hyperatomic motor? Eh? The number of real scientists on Terminus ?even on Terminus ?can be numbered at less than one percent of the population. "And what then of the Second Foundation where secrecy must be preserved. There will still be less of the cognoscenti, and these will be hidden even from their own world." "Say," said Semic, carefully. "We just licked Kalgan? "So we did. So we did," said Anthor, sardonically. "Oh, we celebrate that victory. The cities are still illuminated; they are still shooting off fireworks; they are still shouting over the televisors. But now, when the search is on once more for the Second Foundation where is the last place well look; where is the last place anyone will look? Right!" Kalgan! "We haven't hurt them, you know; not really. We've destroyed some ships, killed a few thousands, torn away their Empire, taken over some of their commercial and economic power ?but that all means nothing. I'll wager that not one member of the real ruling class of Kalgan is in the least discomfited. On the contrary, they are now safe from curiosity. But not from my curiosity. What do you say, Darell?" Darell shrugged his shoulders. "Interesting. I抦 trying to fit it in with a message I received from Arcadia a few months since." "Oh, a message?" asked Anthor. "And what was it?" "Well, I'm not certain. Five short words. But its interesting." "Look," broke in Semic, with a worried interest, "there's something I don't understand." "What's that?" Semic chose his words carefully, his old upper lip lifting with each word as if to let them out singly and reluctantly. "Well, now, Homir Munn was saying just a while ago that Hari Seldon was faking when he said that he had established a Second Foundation. Now you're saying that it's not so; that Seldon wasn't faking, eh?" "Right, he wasn't faking. Seldon said he had established a Second Foundation and so he had." "All right, then, but he said something else, too. He said he established the two Foundations at opposite ends of the Galaxy. Now, young man was that a fake ?because Kalgan isn't at the opposite end of the Galaxy." Anthor seemed annoyed, "That's a minor point. That part may well have been a cover up to protect them. But after all, think?What real use would it serve to have the Mind-masters at the opposite end of the Galaxy? What is their function? To help preserve the Plan. Who are the main card players of the Plan? We, the First Foundation. Where can they best observe us, then, and serve their own ends? At the opposite end of the Galaxy? Ridiculous! They're within fifty parsecs, actually which is much more sensible." "I like that argument," said Darell. "It makes sense. Look here, Munn's been conscious for some time and I propose we loose him. He can't do any harm, really." Anthor looked rebellious, but Homir was nodding vigorously. Five seconds later he was rubbing his wrists just as vigorously. "How do you feel?" asked Darell. "Rotten," said Munn, sulkily, "but never mind. There's something I want to ask this bright young thing here. I've heard what he's had to say, and I抎 just like permission to wonder what we do next." There was a queer and incongruous silence. Munn smiled bitterly. "Well, suppose Kalgan is the Second Foundation. Who on Kalgan are they? How are you going to find them? How are you going to tackle them if you find them, eh?" "Ah," said Darell, "I can answer that, strangely enough. Shall I tell you what Semic and I have been doing this past half-year? It may give you another reason, Anthor, why I was anxious to remain on Terminus all this time." "In the first place," he went on, "I've been working on encephalographic analysis with more purpose than any of you may suspect. Detecting Second Foundation minds is a little more subtle than simply finding a Tamper Plateau ?and I did not actually succeed. But I came close enough. "Do you know, any of you, how emotional control works? It's been a popular subject with fiction writers since the time of the Mule and much nonsense has been written, spoken, and recorded about it. For the most part, it has been treated as something mysterious and occult. Of course, it isn't. That the brain is the source of a myriad, tiny electromagnetic fields, everyone knows. Every fleeting emotion varies those fields in more or less intricate fashion, and everyone should know that, too. "Now it is possible to conceive a mind which can sense these changing fields and even resonate with them. That is, a special organ of the cerebrum can exist which can take on whatever field-pattern it may detect. Exactly how it would do this, I have no idea, but that doesn't matter. if I were blind, for instance, I could still learn the significance of photons and energy quanta and it could be reasonable to me that the absorption of a photon of such energy could create chemical changes in some organ of the body such that its presence would be detectable. But, of course, I would not be able, thereby, to understand color. "Do all of you follow?" There was a firm nod from Anthor; a doubtful nod from the others. "Such a hypothetical Mind Resonating Organ, by adjusting itself to the Fields emitted by other minds could perform what is popularly known as 'reading emotion?or even 'reading minds,?which is actually something even more subtle. It is but an easy step from that to imagining a similar organ which could actually force an adjustment on another mind. It could orient with its stronger Field the weaker one of another mind ?much as a strong magnet will orient the atomic dipoles in a bar of steel and leave it magnetized thereafter. "I solved the mathematics of Second Foundationism in the sense that I evolved a function that would predict the necessary combination of neuronic paths that would allow for the formation of an organ such as I have just described ?but, unfortunately, the function is too complicated to solve by any of the mathematical tools at present known. That is too bad, because it means that I can never detect a Mind-worker by his encephalographic pattern alone. "But I could do something else. I could, with Semic's help, construct what I shall describe as a Mental Static device. It is not beyond the ability of modem science to create an energy source that will duplicate an encephalograph-type pattern of electromagnetic field. Moreover, it can be made to shift at complete random, creating, as far as this particular mind-sense is concerned, a sort of 'noise' or 'static' which masks other minds with which it may be in contact. "Do you still follow?" Semic chuckled. He had helped create blindly, but he had guessed, and guessed correctly. The old man had a trick or two left? Anthor said, "I think I do." "The device," continued Darell, "is a fairly easy one to produce, and I had all the resources of the Foundation under my control as it came under the heading of war research. And now the mayor's offices and the Legislative assemblies are surrounded with Mental Static. So are most of our key factories. So is this building. Eventually, any place we wish can be made absolutely safe from the Second Foundation or from any future Mule. And that's it." He ended quite simply with a flat-palmed gesture of the hand. Turbor seemed stunned. "Then it's all over. Great Seldon, it's all over." "Well," said Darell, "not exactly." "How, not exactly? Is there something more?" "Yes, we haven't located the Second Foundation yet!" "What," roared Anthor, "are you trying to say? "Yes, I am. Kalgan is not the Second Foundation." "How do you know?" "It's easy," grunted Darell. "You see I happen to know where the Second Foundation really is." 第十四章 “我知道……”   “史铁亭战争”总共又拖了两个月,不过在这段期间,侯密尔一点都不感到无聊。由于具有调停特使的特殊身份,他发现自己成了星际事务的焦点人物,这个角色使他忍不住沾沾自喜。 此时已经没有任何重要的战役,只剩下一些零星的小冲突,根本就不值得一提。在基地做了一点点必要的让步之后,和约的条文便完全敲定。根据这个和约,史铁亭得以保留原来的头衔,但是除此之外几乎丧失了一切。他的舰队被解除武装;除了卡尔根星系之外,其他的领域全都获得自治权,并且允许居民以投票的方式,决定自己未来的命运——或是恢复原先的地位,或是完全独立,或是与基地结为邦联。 基地纪元三七七年六二日,在端点星所属星系中的一个小行星上——基地最古老的一个舰队基地——这场战争终告正式结束。由列夫•麦拉斯代表卡尔根在和约上签字,侯密尔则喜滋滋地担任见证人。 整个调停过程中,侯密尔都没有遇见达瑞尔博士,也没见到其他的“同谋”。但是这根本没有关系,他的消息并不急于公布。而每当他想到那个念头时,还是会忍不住莞尔一笑。 达瑞尔博士回到端点星来,是“凯旋日”之后数周的事情。当天傍晚,他家又成了五个同谋的聚会场所。十四个月之前,他们就是在同一地点拟定了第一步的计划。 五个人慢吞吞地结束晚餐,然后又喝了好一会儿的酒,似乎大家都不希望回到那个旧话题上。 结果是裘尔•屠博首先打破了沉默。他用一只眼睛凝视着玻璃杯中的深紫色液体,有点像是自言自语地喃喃说道,“好啊,侯密尔,我可以看得出来,你现在已经成了大人物,你把事情处理得很好嘛。” “我?”孟恩立刻纵声大笑,显得很高兴的样子。不知道为什么,他的口吃已经好几个月没犯了。他解释道,“我根本什么都没有做,那全是艾嘉蒂娅的功劳。哦,对了,达瑞尔,她现在怎么样?听说她很快就要从川陀回来了。” “你听到的消息没错,”达瑞尔以稳重的口气说,“她坐的那艘太空船,应该在本周内就会抵达。”说完,他暗暗观察众人的反应,见到的不外是高兴、喜悦、欢呼,以及松了一口气的感叹。除了这些混杂的正面反应之外,他并没有任何别的发现。 屠博又说:“那么,这件事真的完全结束了。去年春天,又有谁能预料到这一切呢?孟恩去了一趟卡尔根,现在又回来了;艾嘉蒂娅从卡尔根再转到川陀去,如今也正踏上归途;我们经历了一场战争,老天保佑,让我们赢得最后的胜利。我们总是听说历史的大趋势可以事先预测,但是过去这一阵子所发生的事情,把我们这些当事人弄得晕头转向,好像根本就无从预测起。” “胡说,”安索显得不大高兴,他说,“究竟是什么让你这么得意?听你这种口气,好像我们真的赢了一场战争。事实上,我们打赢的只是个微不足道的对手,但却足以让我们得意忘形,忘掉那个真正的敌人。” 众人维持了一阵不安的沉默,其间只有侯密尔•孟恩发出极不相称的轻笑。 安索突然用力一拳打在椅子扶手上,看来心中极为愤怒。他说:“没错,我指的就是第二基地。今晚始终没有人提到它,如果我的判断正确的话,大家都在努力逃避这个话题。笼罩着这个白痴世界的胜利假相,真的是那么迷人吗?让你们每个人都觉得应该加入?那么何不雀跃三丈,翻几个筋斗,大家互相拍拍臂膀,再从窗口扔出彩纸彩带。你们尽情发泄吧,把兴奋的情绪全消耗光——等到你们筋疲力尽,重新恢复理智的时候,再回到这里来,我们再继续讨论那个老问题。去年春天,你们大家坐在这里,每个人的眼睛都骨碌碌地转个不停,被那个无以名状的敌人吓得要死;而现在,其实问题依然存在,一点也没有改变。你们以为打垮了一个蠢笨的舰队指挥官,第二基地的心灵科学大师就不足惧了吗?” 他终于停了下来,已经变得满脸通红,喘个不停。 孟恩小声地问道:“你现在愿意听我说吗,安索?或者,你还想继续扮演一个口无遮拦的阴谋分子?” “尽管说吧,侯密尔,”达瑞尔说道,“不过我们大家都该节制一点,不要卖弄那种过分修饰的辞藻。它本身虽然没什么不好,此时此刻却只令我感到厌烦。” 侯密尔•孟恩靠回扶手椅的椅背上,从手肘边拿起一个玻璃瓶,小心翼翼地为自己再斟了杯酒。 “你们一致推派我到卡尔根去,”他说,“希望我从骡殿的记录中,尽可能找一些有用的情报。我也花了数个月的时间工作,不过这一点我绝不居功。正如我刚才提到的,是聪明的艾嘉蒂娅从旁帮了一个大忙,我才能进入骡殿。我可以很自信地说,我原来对骡的生平以及那个时代的认识,已经算是小有成就。然而,由于接触了那些别人见不到的原始文献,经过数个月的努力,我又有了许多丰硕的收获。” “因此,我现在拥有独一无二的条件,能够相当准确地评估第二基地的真正威胁。比起我们这位爱生气的朋友,我比他够条件得多了。” 安索咬牙切齿地说:“那么,你对他们的威胁又如何评估?” “哈,等于零。” 经过一阵短暂的沉默,爱维特•瑟米克用讶异而不可置信的口气问道:“你是说,他们对我们的威胁等于零?” “当然啦,朋友们,世上根本没有第二基地!” 安索端坐在原处,缓缓地闭上眼睛,他的脸色苍白,面无表情。 孟恩现在成了众人注目的焦点,他感到很得意,又继续说下去:“更有意思的一点是,第二基地其实从来未曾存在过。” 达瑞尔问道:“你这个惊人的结论,究竟有什么根据呢?” 孟恩回答说:“我不承认这是一个惊人的结论。你们全都听过骡寻找第二基地的故事,但是你们可知道寻找的规模与专注的程度?当时他几乎可以支配无穷的人力、物力、财力,而他也的确投入所有的资源。他一心一意想要找到第二基地——最后终究还是失败了,根本没有发现第二基地的蛛丝马迹。” “他几乎没有希望能找得到,”屠博用不耐烦的口气强调,“第二基地有办法保护自己,不会让那些搜寻者得逞的。” “即使搜寻者是具有突变精神力量的骡?我可不这么想。不过请稍安勿躁,你们不能指望我在五分钟之内,就把五十册报告的重要内容全部说完吧。根据刚刚签订的和约,这些文献全都将捐给‘谢顿历史博物馆’永久保存,你们以后都可以像我当初那样,从从容容地分析那些资料。到时候,你们就会发现骡的结论写得明明白白,那就是我刚才已经说过的——第二基地根本不存在,自始至终都不存在。” 瑟米克突然插嘴问道:“好吧,那么究竟是什么阻止了骡的野心?” “老天啊,你又认为是什么阻止他的呢?当然是我们每个人早晚都会遇见的死神啦。当今流传的一个最大迷信,就是认为战无不胜、攻无不克的骡,是被某些力量比他更强的神秘人物所遏止的,这是以错误观点解释每一件事的结果。 “银河中每一个人当然都知道,骡是个肉体与精神双重畸形的人,他不到四十岁就死掉了,那是因为失调的身体再也无法苟延残喘。在死前的那几年间,他就一直病秧秧的;即使健康情况最佳的时候,也比不上普通人的虚弱状态。好,他征服了整个银河,然后由于大自然的规律,投向了死神的怀抱。他能跟死神奋战那么久,还能创下那么大的功业,也实在可算是一个奇迹。朋友们,这些都清清楚楚地记载在文献里面。你们需要的只是耐心,只需要试着用新的观点来解释一切事实。” 达瑞尔若有所思地说:“很好,孟恩,那就让我们试试看。这会是一个很有趣的尝试,即使没有任何收获,至少能够帮我们的脑子上点油。对于那些受到干扰的人——一年多以前,安索给我们看的那些记录,你又要做何解释呢?请教教我们怎样用新观点来解释。” “太简单了,脑电图分析究竟有多久的历史?或者,让我换一个方式来问,神经网路的研究发展有多完善了?” “我可以告诉你,我们正在展开这方面的研究。”达瑞尔回答道。 “好的,那么,你和安索称之为‘干扰高原’的那种现象,你们的解释又有多少可信?你们对于自己提出的理论又有多少把握?它足以证明某种强大力量的存在吗?别忘了其他所有的证据都是负面的。将未知的现象归诸超自然或神意,是一种最简单的做法。 “不过这也是人之常情,在银河过去的历史中,有许多孤立的行星系退化成蛮荒世界的例子。我们从那些例子中学到了什么呢?在每一个个案中,那些蛮人都将他们不能了解的自然力量——暴风、瘟疫、干旱——全部归诸神力的结果。我在此所谓的‘神’,是泛称一切比人类更有力量、更能支配宇宙万物的生命体。 “这就是所谓的‘神人拟同论’。而我相信,在目前这个问题上,我们所采取的态度与蛮人无异,也陷入了窠臼而不自知。我们对于精神科学根本一知半解,却将我们不懂的一切归咎于超人——在此就是第二基地,只因为我们想到了谢顿留下的那点暗示。” “哦,”安索打断孟恩的话,“原来你还记得谢顿,我还以为你把他给忘了呢。谢顿的确说过有第二基地,这一点请你解释一下。” “你了解谢顿的整个意图吗?你明白在他的计算中,牵涉了多少的必要因素?事实上,第二基地也许是个非常必要的‘稻草人’,在整个计划中具有极为特殊的目的。比方说,我们是如何打败卡尔根的?你在最后的系列报导中是怎么写的,屠博?” 屠博挪动了一下壮硕的身躯,回答道:“对,我知道你想要推出什么结论。我在战争末期去过卡尔根,达瑞尔。那个行星的士气低落得无法想像,这一点非常明显,我仔细看过他们的新闻记录,而……唉,他们竟然都相信注定会战败。事实上,他们都认为第二基地最后一定会介入,自然是向基地这一方伸出援手,因此全体军民完全丧失了斗志。” “一点也没错,”孟恩说,“在战争期间,我一直都待在那里。我告诉史铁亭第二基地并不存在,他相信了我的话,所以感到安全无虞。可是他没有办法将民众根深蒂固的信念,在一朝一夕间扭转过来。所以在谢顿安排的这场宇宙棋戏中,那个传说的确成了非常有用的一颗棋子。” 此时安索突然睁开眼睛,以嘲讽的目光紧盯着孟恩沉着的面容:“我说你在说谎。” 侯密尔突然变得脸色煞白,回嘴道:“你这样指控我,我绝不接受,我也不用为自己辩白。” “我这么说,毫无对你做人身攻击的意思。你说谎是身不由己,自己也不知道这件事,可是你还是说了谎。” 瑟米克将枯瘦的手掌放在年轻人的衣袖上,劝他说:“冷静一点,年轻人。” 安索却将他的手甩开,而且动作相当粗鲁:“我对你们这些人都失去了耐心。我这一辈子也没见过这个人几次,却发现他的改变令我无法置信。你们其他人都认识他好多年了,可是全都忽略了这个事实,这简直会把人气疯。你们认为面前这个人是侯密尔•孟恩吗?他并不是我原来认识的侯密尔•孟恩。” 这句话引起了一阵混乱,孟恩高声吼道:“你说我是冒牌货?” “也许不是普通的冒牌货,不过仍然算是一个冒牌货。请安静下来,各位!我要你们听我说。”安索也必须用力喊叫,才能盖过一片吵杂声。 他目光炯炯地瞪着众人,逼得大家都闭上了嘴巴。这时他再说:“你们有谁还记得,侯密尔•孟恩过去是什么样子?我记得他以前是个内向的图书馆馆员,每次开口都显得很害羞,说话的声音紧张又神经质,讲到不敢肯定的事就会结结巴巴。可是现在这个人像他吗?他的言语流畅,信心十足,开口闭口都是理论,而且,老天啊,他没有一点口吃了。这难道还会是同一个人吗?” 现在甚至连孟恩都有点迷惑了。裴礼斯•安索乘机怂恿:“好,我们是不是应该来求证一下?” “怎么做?”达瑞尔问道。 “你还要问我怎么做?眼前就有一个最明显的办法。你这里有十四个月前帮他做的脑电图记录,对不对?现在重新再做一次,然后比较一下就成了。” 他指着那位眉头深锁的图书馆馆员,凶巴巴地说:“我敢说他一定会拒绝接受分析。” “我并不反对,”孟恩不甘示弱地说,“我始终都是我自己。” “你又怎么知道?”安索用轻蔑的语气回嘴道,“我还要得寸进尺呢,因为在座的每一个人我都不相信,我要大家全都接受分析。一场战争刚刚结束,孟恩在卡尔根待了好几个月;屠博随着舰队跑遍了整个战区;达瑞尔和瑟米克也曾经离开过——只是我不知道两位去了哪里。唯有我一直待在此地,与世隔绝而安然无恙,所以我无法再信任你们任何人。为了公平起见,我自己也愿意接受测验。你们大家是否同意?还是要我立即告辞,单独去进行自己的计划?” 屠博耸耸肩说:“我并不反对这个提议。” “我已经说过了我不反对。”孟恩说。 瑟米克默默地挥了挥手,表示他也同意。于是安索静等达瑞尔表明态度,而最后达瑞尔总算也点了点头。 “让我先来吧。”安索说。 年轻的神经电学家坐在躺椅上一动不动,他紧闭着眼睛,好像在沉思什么心事。此时,指针正在网格纸带上描绘出复杂的曲线。达瑞尔已经翻出了旧档案,现在他从里面掏出安索的脑电图记录,然后给安索看了看那个卷宗。 “这是你自己的签名,对不对?” “没错,没错,这是我自己的记录,赶快进行比对吧。” 扫瞄仪将新旧两份记录投射在荧幕上,两份记录各自的七条曲线都清清楚楚。黑暗中,孟恩以刺耳却清晰的声音说:“哈,喂,大家看那里,那里起了变化。” “那两条是额叶的主波,没有什么意义,侯密尔。你指着的那些多出来的锯齿状波纹,代表的只是愤怒的情绪,其他那些曲线才能作准。” 说完,他就轻轻按下一个控制钮,荧幕上的七对曲线便重叠在一起。除了两条主波的较大震幅处没有重叠,其他六条曲线完全没有任何出入。 “满意了吗?”安索问道。 达瑞尔略微点了点头,自行在躺椅上坐了下来。在他之后轮到瑟米克,接下来则是屠博。大家都不再说话,静静地接受测量,静静地比对结果。 孟恩是最后一个坐上躺椅的人,他犹豫了好一阵子,然后用自暴自弃的口气说道:“好了,听我说,我是最后一个,而且我很紧张,希望你们能将这些因素考虑进去。” “一定会的,”达瑞尔向他保证,“意识的情绪顶多只会影响到主波,根本一点都不重要。” 接下来又是一片肃静,时间仿佛过去了好几个小时…… 然后在比对的过程中,安索突然在黑暗中粗声叫道:“果然没错,果然没错,这只是一个刚发端的情结。记得他刚才说什么吗?他说根本没有干扰这回事,全部只是愚蠢的‘神人拟同’观念。可是看看这里!我想大概只是个巧合吧?” “到底怎么了?”孟恩尖声问道。 达瑞尔用力按住那位图书馆馆员:“镇定点,孟恩——你被动了手脚,你的心灵被‘他们’调整过了。” 然后室内重新大放光明,孟恩用涣散的目光环视四周,拼命想挤出一个笑容。 “你们当然不会是认真的,这一定有什么目的,你们是想要试探我。” 可是达瑞尔却坚决地摇着头,对他说:“不,不,侯密尔,这都是真的。” 孟恩突然泪流满面,哭道:“我没有感到任何不对劲,我不相信。” 然后他好像突然想到了什么,又说:“你们全都串通好了,这是个阴谋。” 达瑞尔想要伸手拍拍孟恩,给他一点安慰,没想到却被他一把推开。孟恩大吼道:“你们计划好了要杀我,老天啊,你们计划好了要杀我!” 安索突然冲到他面前,然后只听得“啪啦”一声,孟恩应声倒地,整个人瘫成了一团,脸上还挂着那种惊愕的表情。 安索吃力地站起身来,对其他人说:“我们最好把他绑起来,把他的嘴巴塞住。然后,我们再来讨论下一步该怎么做。”他一面说,一面将长发撩到背后。 屠博问道:“你怎么会猜到侯密尔有问题?” 安索转身面向屠博,露出嘲讽的表情,回答他说:“这并没有什么困难,你可知道,我刚好晓得第二基地究竟在何处。” 接二连三而来的冲击,已使得大家的感觉都有点麻木…… 因此,瑟米克以相当温和的口气问道:“你能肯定吗?我的意思是说,我们刚刚已经听了孟恩说的……” “我的说法可不一样。”安索答道,“达瑞尔,当战争爆发的那一天,我以很认真的态度跟你讨论,试图劝你离开端点星。如果当初我能够信得过你,那时候早就对你说了,也不至于要等到今天。” “你的意思是说,你半年以前就已经知道了?”达瑞尔带着微笑说道。 “当我听说艾嘉蒂娅转到川陀去的时候,我就已经完全想通了。” 这句话使得达瑞尔吃了一惊,他陡然站起来,问道:“这跟艾嘉蒂娅又有什么关系?你究竟要说什么?” “我要说的,绝对都是我们早就心知肚明的事情。艾嘉蒂娅在卡尔根遇到了大麻烦,可是她却没有赶紧回家,反而逃到了昔日的银河中心;迪瑞吉警官是我们在卡尔根最好的间谍,可是他的心灵却被调整过;侯密尔•孟恩去了一趟卡尔根,结果心灵也受到干扰;骡征服了整个银河,最后却出人意料之外地选择了卡尔根作为他的大本营——这不禁使我怀疑,他究竟是一位征服者,抑或只是一个工具?在每一个事件中,我们总是会碰到卡尔根,卡尔根——永远都是卡尔根。过去一个多世纪以来,大大小小的军阀发生过无数次战争,那个世界却始终能够安然无恙。” “那么,你的结论又是什么呢?” “太明显了,”安索的眼中射出异样的光芒,“第二基地就在卡尔根。” 此时屠博突然打岔:“我到过卡尔根,安索,我上个星期还在那个地方。除非是我疯了,否则那个行星上绝对没有什么第二基地。说句老实话,我倒认为是你发疯了。” 年轻人猛然转身面向他,反唇相讥道:“那你就是一个头号大笨蛋。你以为第二基地长得什么样子?像一间小学学堂吗?你以为在太空船入境的航道上,会有辐射场的紧致波束构成的‘第二基地’彩色字样吗?听我说,屠博,不论他们是什么样的组织,必定会形成一个严密的寡头政体。他们一定在存身的那个世界藏得很隐密,跟那个世界在银河中一样见首不见尾。” 屠博的面部肌肉下自主地扭曲,他说:“我不喜欢你这种态度,安索。” “这的确令我感到困扰。”安索故意反讽道,“你在端点星放眼望望吧,我们这里是第一基地的中枢、核心与起点,拥有第一基地所有的物理科学知识。可是,又有多少人是科学家呢?你懂得如何操作能源传输站吗?超核发动机的运作原理你又知道多少?啊?在端点星——甚至在端点星上——真正的科学家也从没有超过百分之一。 “而必须严守机密的第二基地情况又如何呢?其中真正的行家一样不会太多,甚至在自己的世界上,他们照样也会隐姓埋名。” “不过,”瑟米克谨慎地说,“我们才刚刚把卡尔根打垮……” “我们做到了,的确做到了。”安索又用讽刺的口吻说,“哦,我们大肆庆祝胜利,各个城市现在依然灯火通明,人们还在街头施放烟火,还在利用视讯电话大声互道恭喜。可是话说回来,从现在开始,当我们准备再来寻找第二基地时,最不会注意到的是哪个地方?每一个人最不会注意到的是哪个地方?就是卡尔根! “我们根本没有伤到他们,你可知道,没有真的伤到他们。我们只是击毁了一些船舰,打死了几千人,粉碎了他们的‘帝国’,接收了一些贸易、经济势力——可是这些都毫无意义。我敢打赌,卡尔根那些真正的统治阶级,每个人一定都毫发无伤。反之,他们的处境变得安全多了,因为没有任何人会再疑心那个地方,唯独我不然。你怎么说,达瑞尔?” 达瑞尔耸耸肩,答道:“很有意思。我在两个多月前收到艾嘉蒂娅的一个口信,现在,我正试图将你的理论跟她的话相互印证。” “哦,一个口信?”安索问道,“内容是什么?” “唉,我也不能确定。只是短短的五个字,不过却很有意思。” “慢着,有一件事我不明白。”瑟米克插嘴道,他的口气十分急切。 “什么事情?” 瑟米克字斟句酌,嘴唇一闭一合,一字一顿很勉强地说:“嗯,这个,侯密尔•孟恩刚刚才说,虽然哈里•谢顿声称建立了第二基地,但那其实根本是在唬人。现在你又说事实不是那样,第二基地并非只是一个幌子,啊?” “对,他并没有唬人。谢顿声称他建立了第二基地,而事实就是如此。” “好的,可是他还说了一点别的。他说他将这两个基地,设在银河中两个遥相对峙的端点。好了,年轻人,这句话又是不是唬人的呢?因为卡尔根并非位于银河的另一端。” 安索看来有点烦了,他回答说:“那只是个小问题,他之所以会那么说,很可能是为了保护他们而故意放出烟幕。无论如何,请想想看——将那些心灵科学大师放在银河的另一端,又会有什么用处呢?他们的作用到底是什么?是要尽力维护谢顿计划。谁又是计划的主要执行者?是我们,是第一基地。这么说的话,他们应该置身何处,才最适宜观察我们的行动,并且最符合自己的需要?在银河的另一个尽头吗?简直荒谬!他们一定在相当近的地方,只有这样才合理。” “我喜欢这种说法,”达瑞尔说,“听起来合情合理。听我说,孟恩已经清醒一阵子了,我提议将他松绑。他不可能伤害我们,真的。” 安索看来并不同意,可是侯密尔却使劲地点着头。五秒钟之后,他开始使劲地搓揉着两只手腕。 “你感觉怎么样?”达瑞尔问道。 “糟透了,”孟恩悻悻然说,“不过没有关系。我有个问题,想要问问面前这位青年才俊。我已经听到了他的长篇大论,希望你们让我问问他,他究竟认为下一步应该怎么做。” 接下来,是好一阵子诡异的肃静。 孟恩冷笑了一下,然后问道:“好,假设卡尔根真的是第二基地,卡尔根上哪些人又是第二基地分子?你要如何去把他们找出来?如果找到了,又准备怎么对付他们?” “啊,”达瑞尔说,“实在太巧了,我刚好可以回答这个问题。要不要我来报告一下,瑟米克和我过去半年在忙些什么?安索,我之所以坚持要留在端点星,这是另一个重要的原因。” 他继续说下去,“首先我想告诉各位,多年来,我从事脑电图分析的研究,其实是怀着一个任何人都猜不到的目的。想要侦测出第二基地分子的心灵,并不是一件简单的事,比单纯地找出‘干扰高原’还要困难。我并没有完全成功,不过可以算是接近成功的边缘。 “你们有谁知道情感控制的机制是什么?自从骡的时代之后,它就一直是小说家的热门题材,各种无稽之谈、有关这个问题的着作与讨论记录等等,简直可说是汗牛充栋。在大多数的理论中,总是把它视为一种神秘玄奥的异能,当然,事实并非如此。其实大家都知道,人脑是无数细微电磁场的场源。每一个飞纵的情感或情绪,都会或多或少、直接或间接地令那些电磁场产生变化,这一点也是每个人都应该知道的。 “所以说,我们可以想像有一种特殊的心灵,它能够感知这些多变的电磁场,甚至能够与之共振。换句话说,也就是大脑中可能存在一种特殊的器官,这种器官能解读它所侦测到的电磁场型样。至于真正的运作原理,我也没有概念,不过这没什么关系。打个比方吧,如果我是一个盲人,我仍然可以了解光子的量子理论,所以能够接受视觉的科学性解释——当眼睛吸收了某种能量的光子之后,便会导致人体某个器官产生化学变化,因而能够侦测出光子的存在。可是,当然啦,因为我自己看不见,所以怎么样也无法了解色彩的概念。 “你们大家都能明白我的意思吗?” 安索使劲点了点头,其他人则茫然地点点头。 “这种假设中的心灵共振器官,当它调谐到与其他心灵发射的电磁场谐振时,就像传说中的那样,可以感知他人的情绪,甚至能做到更微妙的‘他心通’。从这个假设出发,我们很容易再想像另一种类似的器官,这种器官可以强行调整他人的心灵,也就是能发射强力的电磁波,以同化他人脑部较微弱的电磁场——就像一个强力的磁铁,能够固定钢条中原子偶极排列的方向,使得钢条因此永久磁化。 “我已经解出了第二基地机制的数学。方法是先建构一个方程式,以便预测神经网路必须做出何种组合,才能形成我刚才所描述的那种器官——不过,很可惜的是,那个方程式过于复杂,无法用现有的任何数学工具解出。这实在很糟糕,等于说如果光靠脑电图的图样,根本就无法辨识那些心灵术士。 “不过还好,我还有另外一个办法。藉着瑟米克的帮助,我已经制成了一个命名为‘精神杂讯器’的装置。以我们现有的科学水准,不难造出一种能够复制任何脑电波的能量发射器。这种装置所发射的电磁波,波型可以设定为完全随机变化,对于那种‘第六感’而言,随机的电磁波就是一种‘噪声’或‘杂讯’。因此它能够屏蔽我们的心灵,使那些特殊心灵无法接触得到。各位还都能听得懂吗?” 瑟米克咯咯笑出声来。他当初帮达瑞尔制作那个装置时,虽然只知其然而不知所以然,不过他还是做了一个猜测,如今证明他猜得完全正确。这个老前辈果然还有两把刷子。 安索说:“我想我听得懂。” “这种装置相当容易大量生产,”达瑞尔继续说下去,“只要借着战时研发的名义,基地所有资源都在我的支配之下。现在市长办公室和立法机构都已受到‘精神杂讯’的保护,而此地的重要工厂,以及这栋建筑物也不例外。如今,我们可说已经变得较为隐密;将来,我们也可以让任何地方变得绝对安全,不论是第二基地分子,或者类似骡的异人都无法入侵——这就是我要向各位报告的。” 他将右手一摊,做了一个发言完毕的手势。 屠博显得极为惊讶:“这么说,一切都结束了,谢顿保佑,一切都结束了。” “不,”达瑞尔说,“并不尽然。” “怎么会不尽然呢?还有什么我们不知道的事吗?” “没错,我们还没有真正找到第二基地!” “什么,”安索立刻吼道,“你是说……” “是的,我要说的是——卡尔根并不是第二基地。” “你又怎么知道?” “太简单了,”达瑞尔喃喃地说,“你可知道,我刚好晓得第二基地真正位在何处。” Chapter 15 The Answer That Satisfied Turbor laughed suddenly ?laughed in huge, windy gusts that bounced ringingly off the walls and died in gasps. He shook his head, weakly, and said, "Great Galaxy, this goes on all night. One after another, we put up our straw men to be knocked down. We have fun, but we don't get anywhere. Space! Maybe all planets are the Second Foundation. Maybe they have no planet, just key men spread on all the planets. And what does it matter, since Darell says we have the perfect defense?" Darell smiled without humor. "The perfect defense is not enough, Turbor. Even my Mental Static device is only something that keeps us in the same place. We cannot remain forever with our fists doubled, frantically staring in all directions for the unknown enemy. We must know not only how to win, but whom to defeat. And there is a specific world on which the enemy exists." "Get to the point," said Anthor, wearily. "What's your information?" "Arcadia," said Darell, "sent me a message, and until I got it, I never saw the obvious. I probably would never have seen the obvious. Yet it was a simple message that went: 'A circle has no end.?Do you see?" "No," said Anthor, stubbornly, and he spoke, quite obviously, for the others. "A circle has no end," repeated Munn, thoughtfully, and his forehead furrowed. "Well," said Darell, impatiently, "it was clear to me?What is the one absolute fact we know about the Second Foundation, eh? I'll tell you! We know that Hari Seldon located it at the opposite end of the Galaxy. Homir Munn theorized that Seldon lied about the existence of the Foundation. Pelleas Anthor theorized that Seldon had told the truth that far, but lied about the location of the Foundation. But I tell you that Hari Seldon lied in no particular; that he told the absolute truth. "But, what is the other end? The Galaxy is a flat, lens-shaped object. A cross section along the flatness of it is a circle, and a circle had no end ?as Arcadia realized. We ?we, the First Foundation ?are located on Terminus at the rim of that circle. We are at an end of the Galaxy, by definition. Now follow the rim of that circle and find the other end. Follow it, follow it, follow it, and you will find no other end. You will merely come back to your starting point? "And there you will find the Second Foundation." "There?" repeated Anthor. "Do you mean here?" "Yes, I mean here!" cried Darell, energetically. "Why, where else could it possibly be? You said yourself that if the Second Foundationers were the guardians of the Seldon Plan, it was unlikely that they could be located at the so-called other end of the Galaxy, where they would be as isolated as they could conceivably be. You thought that fifty parsecs distance was more sensible. I tell you that that is also too far. That no distance at all is more sensible. And where would they be safest? Who would look for them here? Oh, it's the old principle of the most obvious place being the least suspicious. "Why was poor Ebling Mis so surprised and unmanned by his discovery of the location of the Second Foundation? There he was, looking for it desperately in order to warn it of the coming of the Mule, only to find that the Mule had already captured both Foundations at a stroke. And why did the Mule himself fail. in his search? Why not? If one is searching for an unconquerable menace, one would scarcely look among the enemies already conquered. So the Mind-masters, in their own leisurely time, could lay their plans to stop the Mule, and succeeded in stopping him. "Oh, it is maddeningly simple. For here we are with our plots and our schemes, thinking that we are keeping our secrecy ?when all the time we are in the very heart and core of our enemy's stronghold. It's humorous." Anthor did not remove the skepticism from his face, "You honestly believe this theory, Dr. Darell?" "I honestly believe it." "Then any of our neighbors, any man we pass in the street might be a Second Foundation superman, with his mind watching yours and feeling the pulse of its thoughts." "Exactly." "And we have been permitted to proceed all this time, without molestation?" "Without molestation? Who told you we were not molested? You, yourself, showed that Munn has been tampered with. What makes you think that we sent him to Kalgan in the first place entirely of our own volition ?or that Arcadia overheard us and followed him on her own volition? Hah! We have been molested without pause, probably. And after all, why should they do more than they have? It is far more to their benefit to mislead us, than merely to stop us." Anthor buried himself in meditation and emerged therefrom with a dissatisfied expression. "Well, then, I don't like it. Your Mental Static isn't worth a thought. We can't stay in the house forever and as soon as we leave, we're lost, with what we now think we know. Unless you can build a little machine for every inhabitant in the Galaxy." "Yes, but we're not quite helpless, Anthor. These men of the Second Foundation have a special sense which we lack. It is their strength and also their weakness. For instance, is there any weapon of attack that will be effective against a normal, sighted man which is useless against a blind man?" "Sure," said Munn, promptly. "A light in the eyes." "Exactly," said Darell. "A good, strong blinding light." "Well, what of it?" asked Turbor. "But the analogy is clear. I have a Mind Static device. It sets up an artificial electromagnetic pattern, which to the mind of a man of the Second Foundation would be like a beam of light to us. But the Mind Static device is kaleidoscopic. It shifts quickly and continuously, faster than the receiving mind can follow. All right then, consider it a flickering light; the kind that would give you a headache, if continued long enough. Now intensify that light or that electromagnetic field until it is blinding ?and it will become a pain, an unendurable pain. But only to those with the proper sense; not to the unsensed." "Really?" said Anthor, with the beginnings of enthusiasm. "Have you tried this?" "On whom? Of course, I haven't tried it. But it will work." "Well, where do you have the controls for the Field that surrounds the house? Id like to see this thing." "Here." Darell reached into his jacket pocket. It was a small thing, scarcely bulging his pocket. He tossed the black, knob-studded cylinder to the other. Anthor inspected it carefully and shrugged his shoulders. "It doesn't make me any smarter to look at it. Look Darell, what mustn't I touch? I don't want to turn off the house defense by accident, you know." "You won't," said Darell, indifferently. "That control is locked in place." He flicked at a toggle switch that didn't move. "And what's this knob?" "That one varies rate of shift of pattern. Here ?this one varies the intensity. It's that which I've been referring to." "May I? asked Anthor, with his finger on the intensity knob. The others were crowding close. "Why not?" shrugged DarelI. "It won't affect us." Slowly, almost wincingly, Anthor turned the knob, first in one direction, then in another. Turbor was gritting his teeth, while Munn blinked his eyes rapidly. It was as though they were keening their inadequate sensory equipment to locate this impulse which could not affect them. Finally, Anthor shrugged and tossed the control box back into Darell's lap. "Well, I suppose we can take your word for it. But it's certainly hard to imagine that anything was happening when I turned the knob." "But naturally, Pelleas Anthor," said Darell, with a tight smile. "The one I gave you was a dummy. You see I have another." He tossed his jacket aside and seized a duplicate of the control box that Anthor had been investigating, which swung from his belt. "You see," said Darell, and in one gesture turned the intensity knob to maximum. And with an unearthly shriek, Pelleas Anthor sank to the floor. He rolled in his agony; whitened, gripping fingers clutching and tearing futilely at his hair. Munn lifted his feet hastily to prevent contact with the squirming body, and his eyes were twin depths of horror. Semic and Turbor were a pair of plaster casts; stiff and white. Darell, somber, turned the knob back once more. And Anthor twitched feebly once or twice and lay still. He was alive, his breath racking his body. "Lift him on to the couch," said Darell, grasping the young man's head. "Help me here." Turbor reached for the feet. They might have been lifting a sack of flour. Then, after long minutes, the breathing grew quieter, and Anthor's eyelids fluttered and lifted. His face was a horrid yellow; his hair and body was soaked in perspiration, and his voice, when he spoke, was cracked and unrecognizable. "Don't," he muttered, "don't! Don't do that again! You don't know?You don't know?Oh-hhh." It was a long, trembling moan. "We won't do it again," said Darell, "if you will tell us the truth. You are a member of the Second Foundation?" "Let me have some water," pleaded Anthor. "Get some, Turbor," said Darell, "and bring the whiskey bottle." He repeated the question after pouring a jigger of whiskey and two glasses of water into Anthor. Something seemed to relax in the young man? "Yes," he said, wearily. "I am a member of the Second Foundation." "Which," continued Darell, "is located on Terminus ?here?" "Yes, yes. You are right in every particular, Dr. Darell." "Good! Now explain what's been happening this past half year. Tell us!" "I would like to sleep," whispered Anthor. "Later! Speak now!" A tremulous sigh. Then words, low and hurried. The others bent over him to catch the sound, "The situation was growing dangerous. We knew that Terminus and its physical scientists were becoming interested in brain-wave patterns and that the times were ripe for the development of something like the Mind Static device. And there was growing enmity toward the Second Foundation. We had to stop it without ruining SeIdon's Plan. "We ... we tried to control the movement. We tried to join it. It would turn suspicion and efforts away from us. We saw to it that Kalgan declared war as a further distraction. That's why I sent Munn to Kalgan. Stettin's supposed mistress was one of us. She saw to it that Munn made the proper moves? "Callia is? cried Munn, but Darell waved him silent. Anthor continued, unaware of any interruption, "Arcadia followed. We hadn't counted on that ?can't foresee everything ?so Callia maneuvered her to Trantor to prevent interference. That's all. Except that we lost." "You tried to get me to go to Trantor, didn't you?" asked Darell. Anthor nodded, "Had to get you out of the way. The growing triumph in your mind was clear enough. You were solving the problems of the Mind Static device." "Why didn't you put me under control?" "Couldn't ... couldn't. Had my orders. We were working according to a Plan. If I improvised, I would have thrown everything off. Plan only predicts probabilities ... you know that ... like Seldon's Plan." He was talking in anguished pants, and almost incoherently. His head twisted from side to side in a restless fever. "We worked with individuals ... not groups ... very low probabilities involved ... lost out. Besides ... if control you ... someone else invent device ... no use ... had to control times ... more subtle ... First Speaker's own plan ... don't know all angles ... except ... didn't work a-aaa? He ran down. Darell shook him roughly, "You can't sleep yet. How many of you are there?" "Huh? Whatjasay ... oh ... not many ... be surprised fifty ... don't need more." "All here on Terminus?" "Five ... six out in Space ... like Callia ... got to sleep." He stirred himself suddenly as though to one giant effort, and his expressions gained in clarity. It was a last attempt at self-justification, at moderating his defeat. "Almost got you at the end. Would have turned off defenses and seized you. Would have seen who was master. But you gave me dummy controls ... suspected me all along? And finally he was asleep. Turbor said, in awed tones, "How long did you suspect him, Darell?" "Ever since he first came here," was the quiet response. "He came from Kleise, he said. But I knew Kleise; and I knew on what terms we parted. He was a fanatic on the subject of the Second Foundation and I had deserted him. My own purposes were reasonable, since I thought it best and safest to pursue my own notions by myself. But I couldn't tell Kleise that; and he wouldn't have listened if I had. To him, I was a coward and a traitor, perhaps even an agent of the Second Foundation. He was an unforgiving man and from that time almost to the day of his death he had no dealings with me. Then, suddenly, in his last few weeks of life, he writes me ?as an old friend ?to greet his best and most promising pupil as a co-worker and begin again the old investigation. "It was out of character. How could he possibly do such a thing without being under outside influence, and I began to wonder if the only purpose might not be to introduce into my confidence a real agent of the Second Foundation. Well, it was so? He sighed and closed his own eyes for a moment. Semic put in hesitantly, "What will we do with all of them ... these Second Foundation fellas?" "I don't know," said Darell, sadly. "We could exile them, I suppose. There's Zoranel, for instance. They can be placed there and the planet saturated with Mind Static. The sexes can be separated, or, better still, they can be sterilized ?and in fifty years, the Second Foundation will be a thing of the past. Or perhaps a quiet death for all of them would be kinder." "Do you suppose," said Turbor, "we could learn the use of this sense of theirs. Or are they born with it, like the Mule." "I don't know. I think it is developed through long training, since there are indications from encephalography that the potentialities of it are latent in the human mind. But what do you want that sense for? It hasn't helped them." He frowned. Though he said nothing, his thoughts were shouting. It had been too easy ?too easy. They had fallen, these invincibles, fallen like book-villains, and he didn't like it. Galaxy! When can a man know he is not a puppet? How can a man know he is not a puppet? Arcadia was coming home, and his thoughts shuddered away from that which he must face in the end. She was home for a week, then two, and he could not loose the tight check upon those thoughts. How could he? She had changed from child to young woman in her absence, by some strange alchemy. She was his link to life; his fink to a bittersweet marriage that scarcely outlasted his honeymoon. And then, late one evening, he said as casually as he could, "Arcadia, what made you decide that Terminus contained both Foundations?" They had been to the theater; in the best seats with private trimensional viewers for each; her dress was new for the occasion, and she was happy. She stared at him for a moment, then tossed it off. "Oh, I Don't know, Father. It just came to me." A layer of ice thickened about Dr. Darell's heart. "Think," he said, intensely. "This is important. What made you decide both Foundations were on Terminus." She frowned slightly. "Well, there was Lady Callia. I knew she was a Second Foundationer. Anthor said so, too." "But she was on Kalgan," insisted Darell. "What made you decide on Terminus?" And now Arcadia waited for several minutes before she answered. What had made her decide? What had made her decide? She had the horrible sensation of something slipping just beyond her grasp. She said, "She knew about things ?Lady Callia did ?and must have had her information from Terminus. Doesn't that sound right, Father? But he just shook his head at her. "Father," she cried, "I knew. The more I thought, the surer I was. It just made sense." There was that lost look in her father's eyes, "It's no good, Arcadia. Its no good. Intuition is suspicious when concerned with the Second Foundation. You see that, don't you? It might have been intuition ?and it might have been control!" "Control! You mean they changed me? Oh, no. No, they couldn't." She was backing away from him. "But didn't Anthor say I was right? He admitted it. He admitted everything. And you've found the whole bunch right here on Trantor. Didn't you? Didn't you?" She was breathing quickly. "I know, but?Arcadia, will you let me make an encephalographic analysis of your brain?' She shook her head violently, "No, no! I'm too scared." "Of me, Arcadia? There's nothing to be afraid of. But we must know. You see that, don't you?" She interrupted him only once, after that. She clutched at his arm just before the last switch was thrown. "What if I am different, Father? What will you have to do?" "I won't have to do anything, Arcadia. If you're different, well leave. Well go back to Trantor, you and I, and ... and we won't care about anything else in the Galaxy." Never in Darell's life had an analysis proceeded so slowly, cost him so much, and when it was over, Arcadia huddled down and dared not look. Then she heard him laugh and that was information enough. She jumped up and threw herself into his opened arms. He was babbling wildly as they squeezed one another, "The house is under maximum Mind Static and your brain-waves are normal. We really have trapped them, Arcadia, and we can go back to living." "Father," she gasped, "can we let them give us medals now?" "How did you know I抎 asked to be left out of it?" He held her at arm's mind; you know everything. All right, you can have your medal on a platform, with speeches." "And Father?" "Yes?" "Can you call me Arkady from now on." "But?Very well, Arkady." Slowly the magnitude of the victory was soaking into him and saturating him. The Foundation ?the First Foundation ?now the only Foundation ?was absolute master of the Galaxy. No further barrier stood between themselves and the Second Empire ?the final fulfillment of Seldon's Plan. They had only to reach for it? Thanks to? 第十五章 满意的答案   屠博突然爆出了狂笑——笑声好像一阵呼啸的巨风,在墙壁上来回反弹,许久之后才消失在一阵喘息声中。然后他有气无力地摇摇头,才开口说:“老天啊,整个晚上不断发生这种事情。我们列出了一个接一个的假想敌,我们玩得很开心,可是什么结果也没有。天啊!也许所有的行星都是第二基地;也许他们根本没有用任何行星作据点,重要人物全散布在银河各处。可是这又有什么关系呢?反正达瑞尔说,我们已经有了完美的防御武器。” 达瑞尔皮笑肉不笑地说道:“光有这种完美的防御武器还不够,屠博,而且我的精神杂讯器根本谈不上完美。即使它真的完美无缺,也只能让我们待在同一个地方。我们总不能永远摩拳擦掌,一直虎视眈眈地防范着未知的敌人。我们不仅要知道如何打赢这场战争,还得知道我们的对手是谁。而我可以肯定,敌人的确盘踞在某个世界上。” “赶紧直说吧,”安索催促道,“你的情报究竟是什么?” “艾嘉蒂娅送了一个口信给我。”达瑞尔说,“在我收到她的口信之前,从来没有注意到那个明显的事实,而且可能永远也不会想到。那只不过是很简单的一句话,只有五个字:‘圆没有端点’。你们听得懂吗?” “不懂。”安索以倔强的语气答道,而且这显然代表了大家的意见。 “圆没有端点——”孟恩若有所思地重复了一遍,然后皱起了眉头。 “好啦,”达瑞尔感到不耐烦,准备自己宣布答案,“我认为这句话的意思相当明显——对于第二基地,我们掌握的一项绝对的事实是什么,啊?让我告诉你们!我们知道哈里•谢顿将它设在银河的另一端。侯密尔•孟恩提出一个理论,认为根本没有第二基地,谢顿其实是在唬人;裴礼斯•安索又提出了另一个理论,认为谢顿的话并非全是谎言,第二基地的确存在,只不过谢顿故意谎报了它的位置。可是我要告诉各位,哈里•谢顿其实完全没有骗人,他所说的绝对都是事实。可是,哪里又是‘另一端’呢?银河是一个扁平、凸透镜状的天体,它的横截面是一个圆,而圆形是没有端点的——这就是艾嘉蒂娅悟出来的道理。我们——我们第一基地——位于端点星上,而端点星则在这个圆的边缘。因此根据一般的定义,我们处于银河的端点。现在,你沿着这个圆周一直走,前去寻找所谓的‘另一端’。你一直走,一直走,一直走,结果你根本找不到‘另一端’,只会重新回到原来的起点——” “而在那里,你将会找到第二基地。” “那里——”安索重复了一遍,然后问道:“你的意思是说这里?” “是的,我指的就是这里!”达瑞尔中气十足地吼道,“除此之外,还会有其他可能吗?你自己说的,如果第二基地分子是谢顿计划的守护者,他们就不太可能会在所谓的‘银河的另一端’;假使他们真的待在那里,一定会完全与世隔绝。你认为卡尔根的距离应该较为合理,可是我告诉你,那里还是太远了,最合理的距离是根本没有任何距离。他们藏在哪里最安全呢?谁会在此地寻找他们呢?最明显的地方就是最隐密的地方,这是一个亘古不变的真理。 “当可怜的艾布林•米斯发现了第二基地的下落时,他为什么会那么惊讶,为什么那么气馁?他飞过大半个银河,拼命想要找到第二基地,以便警告他们骡就要打来了,却发现骡已经一举攻下两个基地。而骡自己的寻找为什么又会失败?怎么可能不会?如果有谁要去搜索一个危险的敌人,绝对不会在自己的俘虏堆里找。因此那些心灵科学大师,才能够争取到充裕的时间,布置好天衣无缝的计划,最后终于一举成功,遏止了骡的泛银河攻势。 “哦,这实在简单得令人忍不住生气。我们在这里绞尽脑汁计划一切,以为每一步行动都神不知、鬼不觉——没想到我们始终都在敌人的根据地中心,这实在是太滑稽、太可笑了。” 安索脸上的疑惑仍旧没有消失,他问道,“你真的相信这个理论吗,达瑞尔博士?” “我真心地相信。” “那么我们的任何邻居,在街上遇到的每一个人,都有可能是第二基地的超人。他们或许正在窥视你的心灵,并且能够感知其中一切的脉动。” “正是如此。” “而我们的计划竟然还能进行那么久,至今仍未受到他们的干涉?” “未受到他们的干涉?谁告诉你没有?你,你自己,证明了孟恩的心灵遭到了干扰。你以为当初我们派他到卡尔根去,完全是出于我们的自由意志吗?而艾嘉蒂娅窃听到我们的谈话,因此跟他一起去了,这真是她自己的主意吗?哈!我们也许始终不断受到干涉呢。总而言之,他们何必做出过度的反应呢?对于他们而言,误导我们比阻止我们还要有利得多。” 安索低头沉思了一阵子,然后又抬起头来,脸上仍是一副不以为然的表情。他说:“好吧,然而,我还是不喜欢这个理论。你的精神杂讯器根本一文不值,我们不能一辈子躲在房间里,可是根据我们现在自以为是的了解,我们一旦走出房门,就等于已经输掉了。除非你能够将这种装置制成可携带的大小,然后银河中每个居民都发一个。” “你说得没错,不过我们并非全然绝望,安索。那些第二基地分子的确拥有我们缺少的特殊感官,这虽然是他们的长处,却也正是他们的弱点。比如说,你能不能想像一种特殊的武器,对普通的明眼人具有足够的杀伤力,可是对盲人却根本没有作用?” “当然可以,”孟恩抢着答道,“强烈刺眼的光线。” “一点都没错,”达瑞尔说,“只要有高强度,足以使人失明的光线。” “可是,这话又是什么意思?”屠博问道。 “这个类比实在相当明显。我已经制成了精神杂讯器,它可以发射一种特殊的电磁波,这种电磁波对于第二基地分子的影响,就像普通光束对明眼人造成的效应。不过精神杂讯器所发出的电磁波,一直不断迅速地变换着型样,变化速率绝非任何心灵能跟得上。好,现在请想像一束强烈的闪光,看久了会令人头痛的那种光束,如果我将这种光束的功率增强,直到它足以令人目盲——就会给人带来肉体上的痛楚,一种无法忍受的痛楚。但是它只对具有视觉的人才有效,对于盲人根本没有一点作用。而精神杂讯器发出的电磁波也是一样,它只对具有特殊感应的心灵才会造成伤害。” “真的吗,”安索开始有兴趣了,问道:“你试验过吗?” “拿谁来试验呢?我当然还没有试过,但是我保证一定有效。” “哦,那么控制此地杂讯场的开关在哪里?我想看看那玩意。” “在这里。”达瑞尔将手伸进外衣口袋,掏出一个通体黑色、呈圆柱型、附有一些键钮的控制器。那是一个很小的装置,放在口袋中几乎看不出来。达瑞尔掏出控制器后,顺手丢给了安索。 安索仔细地检视着,然后耸耸肩道:“光是这样看,我根本看不出什么苗头。喂,达瑞尔,哪里是我不能碰的?你知道,我可不想无意中把保护伞关掉。” “不会的,”达瑞尔随口答道,“那个控制开关已经锁住了。”说完,他就朝一个按跳开关轻轻弹了一下,那个开关果然一动也不动。 “这个旋钮又是干什么的?” “那是改变型样的变换速率用的,这个——这是改变强度的,我刚才提过。” “我可以——”安索问道,同时手指已经按在强度旋钮上,此时其他三个人也凑了过来。 “有何不可?”达瑞尔耸耸肩道,“反正对我们没有作用。” 安索慢慢地、战战兢兢地开始转动旋钮,先朝一个方向转到底,然后又一路转回来。屠博紧张得咬紧牙根,孟恩两眼迅速眨个不停,好像他们都想将自己的感官发挥到极限,试图感受那个不会影响他们的电磁脉冲。 最后,安索又耸了耸肩,将那个控制器丢回达瑞尔的膝盖上,然后说:“嗯,我想我们应该可以相信你的话。可是实在难以想像,当我在转动旋钮的时候,真的有什么事情发生。” “自然不会啦,裴礼斯•安索,”达瑞尔露出一个僵硬的笑容,说,“我给你的那个是假的,你看我这里还有一个。”他脱掉外衣,解下挂在腰际的另一个控制器,两个控制器看起来一模一样。 “你看,”达瑞尔一面说,一面把强度旋钮转到了底。 只听见一声可怕至极的惨叫声,裴礼斯•安索立刻倒在地板上。他显得痛苦万分,在地上拼命地打滚,脸色一片死灰,十指猛力抓扯着自己的头发。 孟恩两只眼睛充满了恐惧,他赶紧抬起脚来,深怕碰到这个扭动不已的躯体。瑟米克与屠博则成了一对石膏像,两人都是脸色苍白,全身动弹不得。 达瑞尔一脸凝重的表情,将旋钮转回原来的位置。安索又微微抽动了几下,然后就再也没有任何动作。不过他显然还活着,急促的呼吸带着身体剧烈地起伏着。 “把他抬到沙发上去,”达瑞尔说完,就伸手去抱他的头,然后又说,“帮我一下。” 屠博赶忙去抬安索的脚,两人像抬一袋面粉似的把他抬到沙发上去。 过了好几分钟,安索的呼吸逐渐缓和下来,眼睑跳动了一阵子之后,才终于张开双眼。他的脸色早己变得蜡黄,头发和身体全被汗水湿透,而当他开口的时候,声音沙哑得让人几乎听不懂他说的话。 “不要……”他喃喃地呻吟,“不要!不要再开了!你们不知道……你们不知道……喔——”他发出了一阵颤声的哀号。 “我们不会再让你吃苦头,”达瑞尔说,“只要你能说实话。你是第二基地的一分子,对不对?” “我要喝一点水。”安索哀求道。 “拿点水来,屠博,”达瑞尔吼道,“顺便把那瓶威士忌也带来。” 达瑞尔向安索灌了一小杯威士忌,再给他喝了两大杯开水,然后又重复了一遍刚才的问题。年轻人似乎感到放松了一点…… “是的,”他用疲惫不堪的声音说,“我是第二基地的一员。” 达瑞尔继续问道:“它就在端点星上——在这里?” “是的,是的,全都给你猜对了,达瑞尔博士。” “很好!现在解释一下过去一年所发生的事,告诉我们!” “我想睡觉。”安索细声地说。 “等一下再睡!先把话说完!” 安索先是发出带着颤抖的叹息,然后才吐出一串话来。他说得又快又小声,其他人都得俯下身来才听得清楚。 “情况变得越来越危险,我们知道端点星的科学家,开始对脑波分析产生了兴趣,而你们发展精神杂讯器这类装置的时机也成熟了。此外,你们对于第二基地的敌意越来越浓。我们必须阻止这些,却又不能因此让谢顿计划受到波及。 “我们……我们试图控制这个行动,试图加入这个行动,这样就能转移你们的疑心和注意力。我们策动卡尔根宣战,是为了进一步转移你们的力量,而这就是我让孟恩去卡尔根的原因。那个史铁亭的所谓宠姬,其实也是我们的一份子。她负责监控孟恩的每一步行动……” “嘉丽竟是……”孟恩大叫起来,可是达瑞尔却挥手示意他闭嘴。 安索完全没注意到有人插嘴,自顾自地继续说下去:“结果艾嘉蒂娅也跟去了,我们没算到这一步——不可能预测到每件事——所以嘉丽设计把她送到川陀,以免因为她的介入而误了大事。这就是整个的计划,只不过我们最后还是失败了。” “你也曾经想把我骗到川陀去,是不是?”达瑞尔又问。 安索点点头:“必须设法把你支开,你心中逐渐升高的得意之情太明显了,我们知道你正在研究精神杂讯器,而且很快就要成功。” “你们为什么不控制我呢?” “不能……不能。我有我的命令,我们依照计划行事,如果我自作主张,会将全盘的计划毁掉。我们的计划只能预测几率……你知道……就像谢顿计划一样。”安索的脑袋剧烈地左右摇摆,一面说一面痛苦地喘息着,几乎已经到了语无伦次的地步,“我们针对个人而订定计划……不是群体……其中的几率很低……导致失败。此外……如果控制你……其他人也会发明……没有用……必须控制时机……更巧妙的……首席发言者自己的计划……不知道全盘的……除了……没有成功……啊——”他筋疲力尽了。 达瑞尔用力摇着他的身体,同时吼道:“你还不能睡,你们总共有多少人?” “啊?你说啥……哦……不多……会感到惊讶的……五十……已经足够了。” “全都在端点星吗?” “五……六个在别的世界……就像嘉丽……我要睡了。” 安索陡然甩了甩头,好像是拼命要力图振作。他想在挫败之后再争回一点颜面,而这就是他所能做的最后一件事。 果然,他的话比刚才清楚多了:“我已经几乎将你击败,本来可以将防御装置关上,把你的心血毁掉,让你知道究竟谁才是主宰。没想到你却给了我一个假的控制器……从一开始就怀疑我……” 他终于睡着了。 屠博余悸犹存地问道:“你怀疑他有多久了,达瑞尔?” “从他来找我的那天起。”他用很平静的口吻说,“他自称是从克莱斯那里来的,可是我很了解克莱斯,也明白我们两人为何不欢而散。他对第二基地这个题目充满狂热,可是我却遗弃了他。我这样做有我的道理,因为我认为独自研究自己的理论,才是最好、最安全的做法。然而我却无法向克莱斯解释这一点,即使我说了,他也绝对听不进去。在他心目中,我是一个懦夫兼叛徒,也许还认为我就是第二基地的间谍呢。他是个爱记仇的人,从那时候开始,直到他快要去世了,都一直没有与我联络。然后,突然间,在他生命的最后一周,他竟然又写信给我——以一个老朋友的身份——向我推荐他最优秀、最有前途的学生,要我们两人合作,继续昔日的探索。 “这实在太意外了,如果没有外力的影响,他怎么可能会有如此的举动?所以我就开始怀疑,这件事情惟一的目的,是要我全心全意接纳一名真正的第二基地间谍。事实证明果然如此……” 说到这里,他不禁叹了一口气,闭起眼睛好一阵子。 瑟米克插嘴道:“我们该拿他们怎么办……那些第二基地的人?”他的声音听来很犹豫。 “我也不知道,”达瑞尔以悲伤的口吻说,“我想,也许可以将他们集体放逐吧。比如说,送他们到佐拉尼星去,然后在那个行星上布满‘精神杂讯’。男女可以隔离开来,更好的办法是将他们通通结扎。这样,五十年之后,第二基地就会成为历史。除此之外,安乐死或许是个更仁慈的办法。” “你认为——”屠博问道,“我们能够学到如何使用他们那种感应力吗?还是他们生来便具有那种机能,就像骡一样。” “我不知道,但我想那是长期训练所发展出来的。因为根据脑电图,普通人也都具有这方面的潜能。可是你要那种能力干什么?连他们自己都未能因此受惠。” 说完,达瑞尔皱起眉头。虽然他不再开口,心中却在拼命呐喊。 这一切都太容易了——太容易了。他们失败了,这些所向无敌的超人,竟然像故事书中的坏蛋那样,最后被好人一网打尽——他并不喜欢这个结局。 老天啊!一个人要何时才能确知自己不是傀儡?又要如何才能确知自己不是傀儡? 艾嘉蒂娅马上就要回来了,自己终将面对那个最后的难题,但是他强迫自己暂时忘掉这件事情。 她回来了,一个星期过去了,两个星期过去了,他却始终无法忘怀那个念头。 他怎么可能不想呢?不知道是什么魔法作祟,她出门在外的这段时间,已经从一个女孩变成了少女。她是他生命的延续,是那段婚姻留下的惟一纪念——那是一段苦乐参半的婚姻,蜜月几乎没有度完就陡然结束。 某一天晚上,他尽可能用最自然的口吻问道:“艾嘉蒂娅,是什么让你想到两个基地都在端点星上?” 他们刚从戏院回来。刚才在戏院中,他们坐在最好的座位,两人都有专用的三维视镜。她还特别穿了一件新衣服,乘兴而去,尽兴而归,玩得开心极了。 听到这个问题,她瞪着父亲好一会儿,然后干脆地答道:“啊,我不知道,爸爸,我就是想到了。” 达瑞尔博士心头立刻蒙上一层冰霜。 “好好想一想,”他急切地问道,“这一点非常重要。你怎么会想到端点星上有两个基地?” 她微微皱起眉头:“嗯,我遇到了嘉丽贵妇,我发现她是第二基地的人……安索不也这么说吗?” “可是她在卡尔根,”达瑞尔毫不放松,“你怎么会想到端点星的?” 艾嘉蒂娅沉默了好几分钟,她是怎么想到的?究竟是怎么想到的?她心中升起了一种可怕的感觉,感到自己无法完全掌握自己。 她终于又开口道:“她知道许多事情——我是说嘉丽贵妇,她的情报一定是从端点星来的。这样说难道不合理吗,爸爸?” 他没有回答,只是不断地对她摇头。 “爸爸,”她喊道,“我就是知道,我越想就越肯定,觉得完全合情合理。”父亲眼中露出了茫然的目光,对她说,“很糟糕,艾嘉蒂娅,这实在很糟糕。面对第二基地的时候,直觉便是一种可疑的征兆,这你应该了解吧?那种念头也许只是单纯的直觉,却也可能是遭到控制的结果!” “控制!你的意思是说他们令我改变了?喔,不,不,这绝对不可能。”她一面后退,一面说,“安索不是说我猜得都对吗?他已经承认了,承认了每一件事,而且你们也在端点星把那些人都一网打尽,对不对?对不对?”她的呼吸越来越急促。 “我知道,不过……艾嘉蒂娅,你愿不愿意让我为你做一次脑电图分析?” 她猛力摇着头:“不,不!我害怕极了。” “怕我吗,艾嘉蒂娅?根本没有什么好怕的。可是我们无论如何要弄明白,你自己也了解这一点,对不对?” 于是,她顺从地跟父亲进入实验室,在整个过程中,她只打了一次岔。当达瑞尔正要转开最后一个开关时,她突然抓住他的手臂问道:“如果我真的发生变化呢,爸爸?你要怎么办?” “我什么都不必做,艾嘉蒂娅。如果你真有什么不同,我们两人立刻就离开这里。让我们回到川陀去,只有你和我,从此……从此我们永不过问银河中的任何事情。”在达瑞尔一生中,从来没有一次分析做得比这次更久、耗费他更多的心力。等到分析终于做完,艾嘉蒂娅蜷缩成一团,根本不敢张开眼睛。但她随即听到了父亲的笑声,而这就足以代表一切。她立刻跳起来,扑到父亲的怀抱中。 当两人紧紧抱在一起时,达瑞尔兴奋若狂,喋喋不休地说:“这间屋子在最强的‘精神杂讯’保护之下,而你的脑波仍然完全正常。我们真的逮到他们了,艾嘉蒂娅,我们可以恢复正常生活了。” “爸爸,”她喘着气说道,“我们现在可以接受奖章了吗?” “你怎么会知道我要求免去这个活动?”他双手抓着她的肩膀,瞪了她好一会儿,然后又开怀大笑,对她说,“没关系啦,反正什么事都瞒不过你。好吧,你可以上台去接受奖章,还可以当众致辞。” “还有……爸爸?” “啊?” “从今以后,你能不能改口叫我艾卡蒂?” “可是……没有问题,艾卡蒂。” 胜利的骄傲渐渐渗入、充盈他内心。基地——第一基地——现在已经成为惟一的基地,变成了银河绝对的主宰。再也没有任何障碍横亘于第二帝国——谢顿计划的最终目标——与他们之间。 只要不断向前迈进就行了…… 谢天谢地…… Chapter 16 The Answer That Was True An unlocated room on an unlocated world! And a man whose plan had worked. The First Speaker looked up at the Student, "Fifty men and women," he said. "Fifty martyrs! They knew it meant death or permanent imprisonment and they could not even be oriented to prevent weakening ?since orientation might have been detected. Yet they did not weaken. They brought the plan through, because they loved the greater Plan." "Might they have been fewer?" asked the Student, doubtfully. The First Speaker slowly shook his head, "It was the lower limit. Less could not possibly have carried conviction. In fact, pure objectivism would have demanded seventy-five to leave margin for error. Never mind. Have you studied the course of action as worked out by the Speakers' Council fifteen years ago?" "Yes, Speaker." "And compared it with actual developments?" "Yes, Speaker." Then, after a pause? "I was quite amazed, Speaker." "I know. There is always amazement. If you knew how many men labored for how many months ?years, in fact ?to bring about the polish of perfection, you would be less amazed. Now tell me what happened ?in words. I want your translation of the mathematics." "Yes, Speaker." The young man marshaled his thoughts. "Essentially, it was necessary for the men of the First Foundation to be thoroughly convinced that they had located and destroyed the Second Foundation. In that way, there would be reversion to the intended original. To all intents, Terminus would once again know nothing about us; include us in none of their calculations. We are hidden once more, and safe ?at the cost of fifty men." "And the purpose of the Kalganian war?" "To show the Foundation that they could beat a physical enemy ?to wipe out the damage done to their self-esteem and self-assuredness by the Mule." "There you are insufficient in your analysis. Remember, the population of Terminus regarded us with distinct ambivalence. They hated and envied our supposed superiority; yet they relied on us implicitly for protection. If we had been 'destroyed' before the Kalganian war, it would have meant panic throughout the Foundation. They would then never have had the courage to stand up against Stettin, when he then attacked; and he would have. Only in the full flush of victory could the 'destruction' have taken place with minimum ill-effects. Even waiting a year, thereafter, might have meant a too-great cooling off spirit for success." The Student nodded. "I see. Then the course of history will proceed without deviation in the direction indicated by the Plan." "Unless," pointed out the First Speaker, "further accidents, unforeseen and individual, occur." "And for that," said the Student, "we still exist. Except?Except?One facet of the present state of affairs worries me, Speaker. The First Foundation is left with the Mind Static device ?a powerful weapon against us. That, at least, is not as it was before." "A good point. But they have no one to use it against. It has become a sterile device; just as without the spur of our own menace against them, encephalographic analysis will become a sterile science. Other varieties of knowledge will once again bring more important and immediate returns. So this first generation of mental scientists among the First Foundation will also be the last ?and, in a century, Mind Static will be a nearly forgotten item of the past." "Well? The Student was calculating mentally. "I suppose you're right." But what I want you most to realize, young man, for the sake of your future in the Council is the consideration given to the tiny intermeshings that were forced into our plan of the last decade and a half simply because we dealt with individuals. There was the manner in which Anthor had to create suspicion against himself in such a way that it would mature at the right time, but that was relatively simple. "There was the manner in which the atmosphere was so manipulated that to no one on Terminus would it occur, prematurely, that Terminus itself might be the center they were seeking. That knowledge had to be supplied to the young girl, Arcadia, who would be heeded by no one but her own father. She had to be sent to Trantor, thereafter, to make certain that there would be no premature contact with her father. Those two were the two poles of a hyperatomic motor; each being inactive without the other. And the switch had to be thrown ?contact had to be made ?at just the right moment. I saw to that! "And the final battle had to be handled properly. The Foundation's fleet had to be soaked in self-confidence, while the fleet of Kalgan made ready to run. I saw to that, also!" Said the Student, "It seems to me, Speaker, that you ... I mean, all of us ... were counting on Dr. Darell not suspecting that Arcadia was our tool. According to my check on the calculations, there was something like a thirty percent probability that he would so suspect. What would have happened then?" "We had taken care of that. What have you been taught about Tamper Plateaus? What are they? Certainly not evidence of the introduction of an emotional bias. That can be done without any chance of possible detection by the most refined conceivable encephalographic analysis. A consequence of Leffert's Theorem, you know. It is the removal, the cutting-out, of previous emotional bias, that shows. It must show. "And, of course, Anthor made certain that Darell knew all about Tamper Plateaus. "However?When can an individual be placed under Control without showing it? Where there is no previous emotional bias to remove. In other words, when the individual is a new-born infant with a blank slate of a mind. Arcadia Darell was such an infant here on Trantor fifteen years ago, when the first line was drawn into the structure of the plan. She will never know that she has been Controlled, and will be all the better for it, since her Control involved the development of a precocious and intelligent personality." The First Speaker laughed shortly, "In a sense, it is the irony of it all that is most amazing. For four hundred years, so many men have been blinded by Seldon's words 'the other end of the Galaxy.' They have brought their own peculiar, physical-science thought to the problem, measuring off the other end with protractors and rulers, ending up eventually either at a point in the periphery one hundred eighty degrees around the rim of the Galaxy, or back at the original point. "Yet our very greatest danger lay in the fact that there was a possible solution based on physical modes of thought. The Galaxy, you know, is not simply a flat ovoid of any sort; nor is the periphery a closed curve. Actually, it is a double spiral, with at least eighty percent of the inhabited planets on the Main Arm. Terminus is the extreme outer end of the spiral arm, and we are at the other ?since, what is the opposite end of a spiral? Why, the center. "But that is trifling. It is an accidental and irrelevant solution. The solution could have been reached immediately, if the questioners had but remembered that Hari Seldon was a social scientist not a physical scientist and adjusted their thought processes accordingly. What could 'opposite ends?mean to a social scientist? Opposite ends on the map? Of course not. That's the mechanical interpretation only. "The First Foundation was at the periphery, where the original Empire was weakest, where its civilizing influence was least, where its wealth and culture were most nearly absent. And where is the social opposite end of the Galaxy? Why, at the place where the original Empire was strongest, where its civilizing influence was most, where its wealth and culture were most strongly present. "Here! At the center! At Trantor, capital of the Empire of Seldon's time. "And it is so inevitable. Hari Seldon left the Second Foundation behind him to maintain, improve, and extend his work That has been known, or guessed at, for fifty years. But where could that best be done? At Trantor, where Seldon's group had worked, and where the data of decades had been accumulated. And it was the purpose of the Second Foundation to protect the Plan against enemies. That, too, was known! And where was the source of greatest danger to Terminus and the Plan? "Here! Here at Trantor, where the Empire dying though it was, could, for three centuries, still destroy the Foundation, if it could only have decided to do so. "Then when Trantor fell and was sacked and utterly destroyed, a short century ago, we were naturally able to protect our headquarters, and, on all the planet, the Imperial Library and the grounds about it remained untouched. This was well-known to the Galaxy, but even that apparently overwhelming hint passed them by. "It was here at Trantor that Ebling Mis discovered us; and here that we saw to it that he did not survive the discovery. To do so, it was necessary to arrange to have a normal Foundation girl defeat the tremendous mutant powers of the Mule. Surely, such a phenomenon might have attracted suspicion to the planet on which it happened?It was here that we first studied the Mule and planned his ultimate defeat. It was here that Arcadia was born and the train of events begun that led to the great return to the Seldon Plan. "And all those flaws in our secrecy; those gaping holes; remained unnoticed because Seldon had spoken of 'the other end?in his way, and they had interpreted it in their way." The First Speaker had long since stopped speaking to the Student. It was an exposition to himself, really, as he stood before the window, looking up at the incredible blaze of the firmament, at the huge Galaxy that was now safe forever. "Hari Seldon called Trantor, 'Star's End,? he whispered, "and why not that bit of poetic imagery. All the universe was once guided from this rock; all the apron strings of the stars led here. 'All roads lead to Trantor,' says the old proverb, 'and that is where all stars end.'" Ten months earlier, the First Speaker had viewed those same crowding stars ?nowhere as crowded as at the center of that huge cluster of matter Man calls the Galaxy ?with misgivings; but now there was a somber satisfaction on the round and ruddy face of Preem Palver ?First Speaker. The End 第十六章 真正的答案   在一个不知名的世界上,一个地点不明的房间中! 某人的计划完全成功了。 首席发言者抬头看了看弟子,然后开口道:“五十名男女,五十位烈士!他们明知下场不是被处决,就是遭到终身监禁。而且,他们还不能事先接受意志力的强化——否则很容易就会被侦测出来。不过他们却没有表现出一点软弱,他们顺利地完成了计划,只因为他们热爱那个更伟大的‘计划’。” “人数不能再减少一点吗?”弟子以不解的语气问道。 首席发言者缓缓摇了摇头:“那已经是下限了,如果人数再少一点,对方就不可能会相信的。事实上,从纯粹客观的角度而言,至少需要七十五个人,才足以吸收可能的误差。不过别操这个心了,发言者评议会十五年前拟定的行动方针,你研究过了没有?” “研究过了,发言者。” “和实际的发展比较过了吗?” “是的,发言者。”顿了一顿后,弟子又说,“我感到十分惊讶,发言者。” “我明白,每个人都会有这种经验。如果你知道投注了多少人力,花了多少个月——事实上,应该说多少年——才将这个计划修改到尽善尽美,你就不会感到那么讶异了。现在告诉我其中的内容——用普通的语言,我要你将数学都翻译成普通的语言。” “是的,发言者。”年轻人整理了一下思绪,然后便说,“原则上,必须让第一基地的人彻底相信,他们已经找到了第二基地,并且已经将它摧毁。这样一来,一切就回到了我们所希望的原点。从今以后,端点星恢复对我们一无所知的状态,在他们的一切算计中,都不会再将我们列入考虑。我们再一次安全地藏匿起来,那五十个人便是我们付出的代价。” “而卡尔根之战的目的呢?” “让基地明白,他们有能力战胜有形的敌人,以扫除骡所带给他们的打击,让他们重新恢复自尊与自信。” “你这里的分析不够完整。记住,端点星的人对我们抱着相当矛盾的情结——他们认为我们拥有优势,因此对我们又憎恨又嫉妒;然而在他们的潜意识中,却又始终仰赖我们的保护。如果在卡尔根之战发生前,我们就被他们‘摧毁’,将会为整个基地带来普遍的恐慌。一旦史铁亭发动攻击,他们将失去面对这场战争的勇气,而史铁亭便会得逞。只有在胜利的骄傲冲昏头的情况下,我们的‘毁灭’带来的负面影响才能减到最小。即使多等一年,他们的成就感也将冷却一大半。” 弟子点点头,又说,“我懂了。那么从此之后,历史的轨迹将一直遵循谢顿计划发展,不会再有任何偏差。” “除非——”首席发言者强调,“又有什么个别的、不可预见的意外发生。” “为了预防这种事情,”弟子接着说道,“所以我们必须存在。只是……只是……目前的态势,有一点令我很担心,发言者。第一基地发明了能产生精神杂讯的装置,那是专门用来对付我们的强力武器。至少,这种情形以前未曾出现过。” “说得好,但他们却找不到需要对付的敌人,所以那个装置将永无用武之地。就好像我们的威胁与刺激消失之后,脑电图分析也会变成一门无用的科学,其他方面的科学很快会取而代之,因为它们可以带来更重要、更立即的回报。所以说,第一基地这些第一代的精神科学家,也将是最后一代;再过一个世纪,精神杂讯器就会变成古董,为绝大多数的人所遗忘。” “嗯——”弟子在心中默默盘算着,然后说,“我想您说的很对。” “可是年轻人,为了你将来在评议会中的工作,我最希望你了解的是在过去十五年间,由于需要处理个人的行为,我们的计划被迫得考虑到一些微妙的情况。比如说,安索必须让人对他产生怀疑,而且要使一切在适当的时机成熟,不过这是相当简单的一件事。 “此外,我们必须安排一种状况,让端点星上不会有人过早起疑,想到他们的世界就是所要寻找的目标。这种想法必须由那个小女孩——艾嘉蒂娅——提出来,而且除了她的父亲之外,不会有其他人注意到这个情报。因此,她必须被带到川陀去,以确保两人在时机成熟之前不会接触。这两个人就好像超核发动机的两极,少了一个就无法运转,而且必须在正确的时间才将开关按下,让线路接通。而我设法做到了!基地与卡尔根的最后一战,必须要处理得极为恰当。一定要让基地舰队信心十足,而使卡尔根舰队未战先怯,人人都想开溜。这一点我也做到了!” 此时弟子又说:“我好像觉得,发言者,您……我的意思是说,我们大家……的行动,都得依赖一个关键的因素,就是达瑞尔博士没有怀疑艾嘉蒂娅是我们的工具而我检查这方面的计算,却发现他会起疑的几率约有千分之三百。如果这件事真的发生,又会有什么变化呢?” “我们已经做了完善的防范。你学过干扰高原的理论吧?它究竟代表什么呢?当然不是植入某种情感倾向的证据。即使再精密的脑电图分析,也完全不可能侦测出这种变化。这是拉弗特定理的结果,你当然应该知道。真正能在脑波上显示的,是将原有的情感倾向取出——切除——所造成的影响,那种变化一定会显现出来。当然,安索负责让达瑞尔知晓有关‘干扰高原’的一切细节。” “然而,在什么样的情况下,可以让一个人受我们控制,而又完全不会在脑波中显现出来?唯有那个人原先根本没有任何情感倾向,这样便可免去切除的过程。换句话说,如果那人是个新生的婴儿,整个心灵如同一张白纸,我们就能够做到这一点。十五年以前,当计划跨出第一步的时候,刚刚在川陀出生的艾嘉蒂娅•达瑞尔,就是这样的一个婴儿。她永远也不会知道自己受到控制,而且这样最好,因为这个控制帮助她建立了一个优秀、聪敏的性格。” 首席发言者轻轻笑了一声,又继续说下去:“就某一方面而言,整个事件的讽刺性最令人感到惊讶。四百年以来,多少人曾经被谢顿的一句‘银河的另一端’所愚弄。针对这个字谜,他们各自提出了特定的、物理科学的解答;真的拿量角器和直尺测量银河地图,想要把‘另一端’找出来。结果,不是绕到银河边缘一百八十度之处,就是又回到了原来的出发点。 “而我们最大的危险,在于仅仅根据物理观念,的确有可能推测出答案。你也知道,银河不是一个扁平的卵形体,银河外缘也并非一个封闭曲线。银河其实是一个双螺旋,至少有八成的住人行星位于主螺旋臂上。端点星位于螺旋臂的最外端,而我们则在另外一端——螺旋线的另一端在哪里呢?当然,是在中心区域。 “不过这实在太明显了,好像是个根本不切题的答案。如果钻研这个问题的人,能够记得哈里•谢顿是一位社会科学家,而不是自然科学家,再根据这一点调整他们的思维模式,就应该可以立刻想到这个答案。对于一名社会科学家而言,‘另一端’代表的是什么意义?地图上的另一端吗?当然不是,那只是一种机械式的诠释。 “第一基地设在银河外缘,该处原本是昔日帝国势力最薄弱、受到文明洗礼最少,财富与文化趋近于零的地方。哪里又是银河社会的另一个极端呢?当然,就是帝国最强盛,文明最发达,财富与文化鼎盛之处。 “这里!这个中心!就在川陀,谢顿时代的帝国首都。 “这是完全理所当然的事。哈里•谢顿留下一个第二基地,是为了要维护、改进、推展他的计划——早在五十年前,许多人就已经明白这一点,或者至少猜测到了。而这个工作最适宜在何处进行呢?自然是在川陀。当年谢顿领导的研究在这里进行,数十年搜集的资料也全都汇集此地。此外,第二基地的目的是要保卫谢顿计划,不让计划毁于任何敌人之手,这一点也是众所周知的!而对于端点星和谢顿计划而言,最大的威胁来源又在何处? “在此地!就在川陀这里。帝国虽然已经奄奄一息,可是前后有三个世纪的时间,帝国仍然有办法摧毁基地——只要他们决心这么做。 “一个世纪前,当川陀沦陷敌手,遭到史无前例的劫掠,整个行星变作一片废墟时,我们自然有办法保卫自己的大本营。在满目疮痍中,只有帝国图书馆与周围的校园安然无事,这一点也是银河中人尽皆知的事实。然而即使是如此明显不过的暗示,却也没有一个人注意到。 “艾布林•米斯就是在川陀发现我们的下落,我们只好提早结束他的生命,令他无法说出这个秘密。为了做到这一点,我们必须借重一个普通的基地女子,借她的手来击败骡强大无比的突变异能。当然,这样做难免会使人怀疑到这个行星——就在此地,我们对骡做了首度的研究,因而订出了最后击败他的计划,而艾嘉蒂娅也是在此出生的。从此就引发了一连串的事件,终于使得谢顿计划重新回到正轨。 “我们所暴露的秘密,所有的那些漏洞,竟然全都没有被发现。这都是因为谢顿所说的‘另一端’是别有所指,他人却都自以为是地另做解释。” 首席发言者沉默了良久。他刚才对弟子所说的那些话,其实,更像是在为自己解说一切。现在,他站在窗前,抬头望着苍穹中不可思议的强烈光焰,望着从此永远太平的广袤银河。 “哈里•谢顿将川陀称作‘群星的尽头’,”他又细声说道,“为何不能是个诗意的意象呢?宇宙一度完全受到这个星体支配;所有的恒星都曾经跟此处保持联系;古谚有云,‘条条大路通川陀’——这里才是群星真正的尽头。” 十个月以前,首席发言者曾站在同一个地点,满怀沉重的心情,抬头凝视着拥挤的星空——在人类称为“银河系”的这个巨大物质团块,再也没有比中心处更拥挤的区域。 如今,在那张浑圆、红润、朴素的脸庞上,首席发言者——普芮姆•帕佛——微微现出了一个满意的神情。