Foundation and Empire 20. Conspirator

The mayors palace what was at once the mayors palace was a looming blear in the darkness. The city was quiet under its conquest and cur some, and the hazy shit reveal of the great Galactic Lens, with hither and at that place a lonely star, reign the sky of the foot.In three centuries the Foundation had grown from a cloak-and-dagger project of a sm tot tout ensembley group of scientists to a tentacular peck empire sprawling deep into the Galaxy and half a course of instruction had flung it from its heights to the status of another conquered province. chief Han Pritcher refused to grasp that.The citys sullen darkness quiet, the darkened palace, intruder-occupied, were symbolic enough, only master copy Han Pritcher, just within the satellite gate of the palace, with the tiny nuclear bomb under his tongue, refused to understand.A compose drifted closer the maestro bent his head.The whisper came deathly low, The apprehension governance is as it always was, captain. Pr oceed It give register nothing.Softly, the captain ducked with the low archway, and eat the fountain-lined path to what had been Indburs garden.Four months ago had been the day in the Time Vault, the fullness of which his memory balked at. Singly and separately the impressions would come rearwards, unwelcome, to a great extent often than not at night.Old Seldon speaking his benevolent address that were so shatteringly awry(p) the jumbled confusion Indbur, with his mayoral costume incongruously bright rough his pinched, unconscious display case the frightened crowds gathering quickly, waiting noiselessly for the requisite countersign of surrender the young musical composition, Toran, disappearing out of a hu hu military mankind face room access with the mules clown dangling over his shoulder.And himself, somehow out of it all after ward, with his car unworkable.Shouldering his way along and through the leaderless mob that was already exit the city destination u n spotn.Making blindly for the various rat holes which were which had once been the headquarters for a democratic underground that for fourscore years had been helplessness and dwindling.And the rat holes were empty.The next day, black alien ships were momentarily visible in the sky, sinking gently into the clustered buildings of the nearby city. Captain Han Pritcher felt an ingathering of helplessness and despair drown him.He started his give ways in earnest.In xxx years he had covered nearly two hundred miles on foot, changed to the clothing of a worker in the hydroponic factories whose body he found hotly-dead by the side of the road, grown a fierce whiskers of russet intensityAnd found what was left-hand(a) of the underground.The city was Newton, the district a residential one of one-time elegance slowly edging towards squalor, the house an undistinguished component of a row, and the man a nonaged-eyed, big-boned whose knotted fists bulged through his pockets and wh ose wiry body remained unbudgingly in the narrow door opening.The captain mumbled, I come from Miran.The man returned the gambit, grimly. Miran is early this year.The captain said, No earlier than get year. just the man did not step aside. He said, Who ar you?Arent you flip?Do you always answer by asking?The captain took an unnoticeably longer breath, and then said calmly, I am Han Pritcher, Captain of the Fleet, and element of the Democratic Underground Party. Will you let me in?The hoax stepped aside. He said, My real name is Orum Palley.He held out his hand. The captain took it.The room was well-kept, but not lavish. In one comer stood a decorative book-film projector, which to the captains armed forces eyes might easily cook been a camouflaged chargeman of respectable caliber. The projecting lens covered the doorway, and such could be remotely controlled.The Fox followed his bearded guests eyes, and smiled tightly. He said, Yes But only in the days of Indbur and his lack ey-hearted vampires. It wouldnt do much against the scuff, eh? Nothing would help against the mule. Are you hungry?The captains lash muscles tightened beneath his beard, and he nodded.Itll take a irregular if you dont mind waiting. The Fox removed cans from a cupboard and placed two before Captain Pritcher. Keep your finger on it, and break them when theyre hot enough. My heat-control units out of whack. Things handle that remind you theres a war on or was on, eh?His quick words had a jovial content, but were said in some(prenominal)thing but a jovial tone and his eyes were coldly mentationful. He sat down opposite the captain and said, Therell be nothing but a burn-spot left where youre sitting, if theres anything about you I dont like. Know that?The captain did not answer. The cans before him undecided at a pressure.The Fox said, shortly, Stew Sorry, but the food internet site is short.I know, said the captain. He ate quickly not spirit up.The Fox said, I once saw you. Im trying to remember, and the beard is definitely out of the picture.I defynt s nursed in thirty days. Then, fiercely, What do you motivation? I had the correct passwords. I have identification.The other waved a hand, Oh, Ill make youre Pritcher all right. But there are plenty who have the passwords, and the identifications, and the identities who are with the mule. Ever hear of Levvaw, eh?Yes.Hes with the Mule.What? He-Yes. He was the man they called No Surrender. The Foxs lips made express emotion motions, with neither sound nor humor. Then theres Willig. With the Mule Garre and Noth. With the Mule why not Pritcher as well, eh? How would I know?The captain merely shook his head.But it doesnt matter, said the Fox, softly. They must(prenominal) have my name, if Noth has gone over so if youre legitimate, youre in more new danger than I am over our acquaintanceship.The captain had finished eating. He leaned back, If you have no organization here, where can I take chances on e? The Foundation may have surrendered, but I havent.So You cant wander forever, captain. Men of the Foundation must have travel permits to move from town to town these days. You know that? Also identity cards. You have one? Also, all stumbleicers of the old Navy have been requested to announce to the nearest occupation headquarters. Thats you, eh?Yes. The captains voice was hard. Do you think I overtake through fear. I was on Kalgan not long after its take to the Mule. Within a month, not one of the old warlords officers was at large, because they were the innate(p) military leaders of any revolt. Its always been the undergrounds knowledge that no transition can be successful without the control of at least better of the Navy. The Mule evidently knows it, too.The Fox nodded thoughtfully, Logical enough. The Mule is thorough.I toss out the uniform as soon as I could. I grew the beard. afterwards there may be a chance that others have interpreted the resembling action.Are y ou married?My wife is dead. I have no children.Youre hostage-immune, then.Yes.You want my advice?If you have any.A dont know what the Mules policy is or what he intends, but skilled workers have not been harmed so far. Pay judge have gone up. Production of all sorts of nuclear weapons is booming.Yes? Sounds like a continuing offensive.I dont know. The Mules a subtle son of a drab, and he may merely be soothing the workers into submission. If Seldon couldnt figure him out with all his psychohistory, Im not going to try. But youre wearing work clothes. That suggests something, eh?Im not a skilled worker.Youve had a military course in nucleics, havent you?Certainly.Thats enough. The Nuclear-Field Bearings, Inc., is located here in town. Tell them youve had experience. The stinkers who used to run the factory for Indbur are free running it for the Mule. They wont ask questions, as long as they need more workers to make their fat hunk. Theyll give you an identity card and you can hol d in for a room in the Corporations housing district. You might start now.In that manner, Captain Han Pritcher of the National Fleet became Shield-man Lo Moro of the 45 Shop of Nuclear-Field Bearings, Inc. And from an Intelligence agent, he descended the social scale to conspirator- a calling which led him months ulterior to what had been Indburs private garden, In the garden, Captain Pritcher consulted the radometer in the palm of his hand. The inner admonition field was still in operation, and he waited. Half an hour remained to the career of the nuclear bomb in his mouth. He rolled it gingerly with his tongue.The radometer eliminated into an sinister darkness and the captain advanced quickly.So far, matters had progressed well.He reflected objectively that the lifetime of the nuclear bomb was his as well that its death was his death and the Mules death.And the alarming climacteric of a four-months private war would be reached a war that had passed from flight through a Ne wton factoryFor two months, Captain Pritcher wore leaden aprons and heavy face shields, till all things military had been frictioned off his outer bearing. He was a laborer, who collected his pay, spent his evenings in town, and never discussed politics.For two months, he did not check over the Fox.And then, one day, a man stumbled past his bench, and there was a scrap of paper in his pocket. The word Fox was on it. He tossed it into the nuclear chamber, where it vanished in a unobservant puff, sending the energy out drift up a millimicrovolt and turned back to his work.That night he was at the Foxs home, and took a hand in a game of cards with two other men he knew by reputation and one by name and face.Over the cards and the strait and repassing tokens, they spoke.The captain said, Its a fundamental error. You live in the exploded past. For eighty years our organization has been waiting for the correct historical moment. Weve been blinded by Seldons psychohistory, one of the f irst propositions of which is that the individual does not count, does not make history, and that multiform social and economic factors override him, make a puppet out of him. He adjusted his cards carefully, appraised their value and said, as he put out a token. Why not kill the Mule?Well, now, and what in effect(p) would that do? demanded the man at his left, fiercely.You see, said the captain, discarding two cards, thats the attitude. What is one man out of quadrillions. The Galaxy wont give out rotating because one man dies. But the Mule is not a man, he is a edition. Already, he had upset Seldons plan, and if youll stop to analyze the implications, it means that he one man one mutant upset all of Seldons psychohistory. If he had never lived, the Foundation would not have fallen. If he ceased living, it would not remain fallen.Come, the democrats have fought the mayors and the traders for eighty years by connivery. lets try assassination.How? interposed the Fox, with col d common sense.The captain said, slowly, Ive spent three months of thought on that with no solution. I came here and had it in five proceedings. He glanced briefly at the man whose broad, pink melon of a face smiled from the place at his right. You were once Mayor Indburs chamberlain. I did not know you were of the underground,Nor I, that you were.Well, then, in your capacity as chamberlain you periodically canvass the working of the alarm system of the palace.I did.And the Mule occupies the palace now.So it has been announced though he is a modest conqueror who makes no speeches, proclamations nor public appearances of any sort.Thats an old story, and affects nothing. You, my ex-chamberlain, are all we need.The cards were shown and the Fox collected the stakes. Slowly, he dealt a new hand.The man who had once been chamberlain picked up his cards, singly. Sorry, captain. I checked the alarm system, but it was routine. I know nothing about it.I expected that, but your mind carries an eidetic memory of the controls if it can be probed deeply enough with a psychic probe.The chamberlains ruddy face paled utterly and sagged. The cards in his hand crumpled under sudden fist-pressure, A psychic probe?You neednt worry, said the captain, sharply. I know how to use one. It will not harm you past a few days weakness. And if it did, it is the chance you take and the price you pay. There are some among us, no doubt, who from the controls of the alarm could arrange the wavelength combinations. There are some among us who could manufacture a small bomb under time-control and I myself will carry it to the Mule.The men self-contained over the table.The captain announced, On a given evening, a rioting will start in Terminus City in the approximation of the palace. No real fighting. Disturbance then flight. As long as the palace guard is attracted or, at the very least, distracted-From that day for a month the preparations went on, and Captain Han Pritcher of the Natio nal Fleet having become conspirator descended further in the social scale and became an assassin.Captain Pritcher, assassin, was in the palace itself, and found himself grimly pleased with his psychology. A thorough alarm system outside meant few guards within. In this case, it meant none at all.The floor plan was clear in his mind. He was a blob moving noiselessly up the well-carpeted ramp. At its head, he flattened against the wall and waited.The small closed door of a private room was before him. Behind that door must be the mutant who had beaten the unbeatable. He was early the bomb had ten minutes of life in it.Five of these passed, and still in all the humanness there was no sound. The Mule had five minutes to live So had Captain Pritcher-He stepped forward on sudden impulse. The speckle could no longer fail. When the bomb went, the palace would go with it all the palace. A door between ten yards between was nothing. But he wanted to see the Mule as they died together.I n a plump, insolent gesture, he thundered upon the door.And it opened and let out the blinding light.Captain Pritcher staggered, then caught himself. The solemn man, rest in the center of the small room before a hang weight bowl, looked up mildly.His uniform was a somber black, and as he tapped the bowl in an absent gesture, it bobbed quickly and the feather-finned, orange and vermilion fish within darted wildly.He said, Come in, captainTo the captains quivering tongue the teeny metal globe beneath was swelling ominously a tangible impossibility, the captain knew. But it was in its last minute of life.The uniformed man said, You had better spit out the foolish pellet and free yourself for speech. It wont blast.The minute passed and with a slow, sodden motion the captain bent his head and dropped the euphonous globe into his palm. With a furious force it was flung against the wall. It rebounded with a tiny, sharp clangor, glow harmlessly as it flew.The uniformed man shrugge d. So much for that, then. It would have done you no good in any case, captain. I am not the Mule. You will have to be satisfied with his viceroy.How did you know? muttered the captain, thickly. goddamn it on an efficient counter-espionage system. I can name every member of your little gang, every step of their planning-And you let it go this far?Why not? It has been one of my great purposes here to find you and some others. especially you. I might have had you some months ago, while you were still a worker at the Newton Bearings Works, but this is much better. If you hadnt suggested the main outlines of the plot yourself, one of my own men would have advanced something of much the same sort for you. The result is quite dramatic, and rather grimly humorous.The captains eyes were hard. I find it so, too. Is it all over now?Just begun. Come, captain, sit down. Let us leave heroics for the fools who are impressed by it. Captain, you are a capable man. According to the information I hav e, you were the first on the Foundation to identify the power of the Mule. Since then you have interested yourself, rather daringly, in the Mules early life. You have been one of those who carried off his clown, who, incidentally, has not to that extent been found, and for which there will yet be full payment. Naturally, your ability is recognized and the Mule is not of those who fear the ability of his enemies as long as he can convert it into the ability of a new friend.Is that what youre hedging up to? Oh, noOh, yes It was the purpose of tonights comedy. You are an intelligent man, yet your little conspiracies against die Mule fail humorously. You can scarcely dignify it with the name of conspiracy. Is it berth of your military training to waste ships in hopeless actions?One must first admit them to be hopeless.One will, the viceroy assured him, gently. The Mule has conquered the Foundation, It is rapidly being turned into an arsenal for accomplishment of his greater aims.What greater aims?The conquest of the entire Galaxy. The reunion of all the tom worlds into a new Empire. The fulfillment, you dull-witted patriot, of your own Seldons dream seven hundred years before he hoped to see it. And in the fulfillment, you can help us.I can, undoubtedly. But I wont, undoubtedly.I understand, reasoned the viceroy, that only three of the Independent Trading Worlds yet resist. They will not last much longer. It will be the last of all Foundation forces. You still hold out.Yes.Yet you wont. A uncoerced recruit is the, most efficient. But the other kind will do. Unfortunately, the Mule is absent. He leads the fight, as always, against the resisting Traders. But he is in continual intercommunicate with us. You will not have to wait long.For what?For your conversion.The Mule, said the captain, frigidly, will find that beyond his ability.But he wont. I was not beyond it. You dont recognize me? Come, you were on Kalgan, so you have seen me. I wore a monocle, a fur-lin ed blood-red robe, a high-crowned hat-The captain stiffened in dismay. You were the warlord of Kalgan.Yes. And now I am the trustworthy viceroy of the Mule. You see, he is persuasive.