Foundation and Empire 22. Death On Neotrantor

NEOTRANTOR The sm each planet of Delicass, renamed after the Great nonify, was for nearly a century, the stub of the decision dynasty of the First Empire. It was a shadow world and a shadow Empire and its existence is b argonly of legalistic importance. Under the first of the Neotrantorian dynastyEncyclopedia galacticaNeotrantor was the name New Trantor And when you take a shit verbalise the name you defy tucker at a stroke all the resemblances of the new Trantor to the great original. Two parsecs away, the sun of Old Trantor free sh ace and the Galaxys Imperial Capital of the previous century still cut finished space in the coterminous and eternal repetition of its orbit.Men even inhabited Old Trantor. none many a degree Celsius million, perhaps, where fifty years before, forty billions had swarmed. The huge, metal world was in jagged splinters. The towering thrusts of the multi-towers from the whiz world-girdling seat were torn and empty still bearing the origin al blastholes and firegut shards of the Great Sack of forty years ear pillowr.It was hostile that a world which had been the center of a Galaxy for two thousand years that had ruled inexhaustible space and been home to legislators and rulers whose whims spanned the parsecs could die in a month. It was eerie that a world which had been untouched through and through the vast conquering sweeps and retreats of a millennia, and equally untouched by the civil wars and palace revolutions of other millennia should lie dead at last. It was strange that the Glory of the Galaxy should be a rotting corpse.And patheticFor centuries would insofar pass before the mighty works of fifty generations of humans would decay past use. Only the declining causalitys of men, themselves, rendered them profitless promptly.The millions left after the billions had died tore up the gleaming metal base of the planet and exposed disfigurement that had not felt the touch of sun in a thousand years.Surro unded by the mechanic perfections of human efforts, encircled by the industrial marvels of mankind freed of the tyranny of environment they re saturnine to the land. In the huge affair clearings, wheat and corn grew. In the shadow of the towers, sheep grazed.But Neotrantor existed an obscure village of a planet drowned in the shadow of mighty Trantor, until a heart-throttled royal family, racing before the fire and flame of the Great Sack sped to it as its last refuge and held out in that location, barely, until the roaring wave of rebellion subsided. There it ruled in ghostly splendor over a cadaverous remnant of Imperium.Twenty agricultural worlds were a Galactic EmpireDagobert IX, ruler of 20 worlds of refractory squires and sullen peasants, was Emperor of the Galaxy, Lord of the Universe.Dagobert IX had been twenty-five on the melodic phrasey day he arrived with his set about upon Neotrantor. His look and mind were still alive with the glory and the power of the Empire that was. But his son, who might single day be Dagobert X, was born on Neotrantor.Twenty worlds were all he knew.Jord Commasons open air car was the finest vehicle of its type on all Neotrantor and, after all, mighty so. It did not end with the fact that Commason was the liberalst landowner on Neotrantor. It began there. For in earlier days he had been the abetter _or_ abettor and evil genius of a young hood prince, restive in the dominating grip of a middle-aged emperor. And now he was the companion and still the evil genius of a middle-aged crown prince who hated and dominated an old emperor.So Jord Commason, in his air car, which in mother-of-pearl finish and gold-and-lumetron embroidery needed no coat of arms as owners identification, surveyed the lands that were his, and the miles of rolling wheat that were his, and the huge threshers and harvesters that were his, and the tenant-farmers and machine-tenders that were his and considered his problems cautiously.Beside him , his bent and decrease chauffeur guided the transmit gently through the upper winds and make a faced.Jord Commason spoke to the wind, the air, and the sky, You remember what I told you, Inchney?Inchneys sylphlike gray hair wisped lightly in the wind. His gap-toothed smile widened in its thin-lipped fashion and the vertical wrinkles of his cheeks deepened as though he were keeping an eternal secret from himself. The whisper of his voice whistled between his teeth.I remember, sire, and I have thought.And what have you thought, Inchney? There was an impatience about the question.Inchney remembered that he had been young and mittsome, and a lord on Old Trantor. Inchney remembered that he was a disfigured ancient on Neotrantor, who lived by grace of Squire Jord Commason, and salaried for the grace by lending his subtlety on request. He sighed very softly.He whispered again, Visitors from the first appearance, sire, are a convenient thing to have. Especially, sire, when they come with moreover a single ship, and save a single fighting man. How welcome they might be.Welcome? utter Commason, gloomily. Perhaps so. But those men are magicians and whitethorn be powerful.Pugh, muttered Inchney, the mistiness of distance hides the truth. The Foundation is only if a world. Its citizens are but men. If you blast them, they die.Inchney held the ship on its course A river was a winding sparkle below. He whispered, And is there not a man they speak of now who stirs the worlds of the Periphery?Commason was suddenly suspicious. What do you know of this?There was no smile on his chauffeurs face. Nothing, sire. It was but an idle question.The squires hesitation was short. He utter, with brutal directness, Nothing you ask is idle, and your method of acquiring knowledge lead have your scrawny neck in a vise merely. But I have it This man is called the mule, and a subject of his had been here some months ago on a calculate of business. I await another now for its c onclusion.And these newcomers? They are not the ones you want, perhaps?They lack the identification they should have.It has been inform that the Foundation has been captured-I did not tell you that.It has been so reported, continued Inchney, coolly, and if that is correct, then these whitethorn be refugees from the destruction, and may be held for the Mules man out of honest friendship.Yes? Commason was uncertain.And, sire, since it is well-known that the friend of a conqueror is but the last victim, it would be but a measure of honest self-defense. For there are such things as psychical probes, and here we have four Foundation brains. There is much about the Foundation it would be profitable to know, much even about the Mule. And then the Mules friendship would be a trifle the less overpowering.Commason, in the quiet of the upper air, returned with a shiver to his first thought. But if the Foundation has not fallen. If the reports are lies. It is said that it has been foretold it can not fall.We are past the age of soothsayers, sire.And still if it did not fall, Inchney. Think If it did not fall. The Mule made me promises, thusly- He had gone too far, and backtracked. That is, he made boasts. But boasts are wind and works are hard.Inchney laughed noiselessly. Deeds are hard indeed, until begun. One could scarcely find a further tutelage than a Galaxy-end Foundation.There is still the prince, murmured Commason, almost to himself.He deals with the Mule also, then, sire?Commason could not quite gnarl down the complacent shift of features. Not entirely. Not as I do. But he grows wilder, more than uncontrollable. A demon is upon him. If I seize these masses and he takes them away for his own use for he does not lack a certain shrewdness I am not yet go down to quarrel with him. He frowned and his heavy cheeks bent downwards with dislike.I saw those strangers for a few moments yesterday, said the gray chauffeur, irrelevantly, and it is a strange woman, that dark one. she walks with the freedom of a man and she is of a startling pallidity against the dark luster of hair. There was almost a warmth in the husky whisper of the shrivel voice, so that Commason turned toward him in sudden surprise.Inchney continued, The prince, I think, would not find his shrewdness proof against a reasonable compromise. You could have the rest, if you left him the girl-A light broke upon Commason, A thought Indeed a thought Inchney, turn back And Inchney, if all turns well, we impart discuss further this matter of your freedom.It was with an almost superstitious sense of symbolism that Commason found a Personal Capsule waiting for him in his private guide when he returned. It had arrived by a wavelength known to few. Commason smiled a fat smile. The Mules man was coming and the Foundation had indeed fallen.Baytas misty visions, when she had them, of an Imperial palace, did not jibe with the reality, and inside her, there was a vague sense of disappo intment. The means was small, almost plain, almost ordinary. The palace did not even match the mayors residence back at the Foundation and Dagobert IX Bayta had definite ideas of what an emperor ought to look like. He ought not look like somebodys benevolent grandfather. He ought not be thin and white and faded or serving cups of tea clipping with his own hand in an expressed anxiety for the comfort of his visitors.But so it was.Dagobert IX chuckled as he poured tea into her stiffly outheld cup.This is a great pleasance for me, my dear. It is a moment away from ceremony and courtiers. I have not had the opportunity for welcoming visitors from my outer provinces for a time now. My son takes care of these details now that Im older. You havent met my son? A fine boy. Headstrong, perhaps. But then hes young. Do you care for a flavor capsulize? No?Toran attempted an interruption, Your royal majesty-Yes?Your imperial majesty, it has not been our intention to intrude upon you-Nonsense , there is no intrusion. tonight there will be the official reception, but until then, we are free. Lets contact, where did you say you were from? It seems a long time since we had an official reception. You said you were from the body politic of Anacreon?From the Foundation, your imperial majestyYes, the Foundation. I remember now. I had it located. It is in the Province of Anacreon. I have never been there. My doctor forbids extensive traveling. I dont recall any recent reports from my vicereine at Anacreon. How are conditions there? he concluded anxiously.Sire, mumbled Toran, I bring no complaints.That is gratifying. I will commend my viceroy.Toran looked helplessly at Ebling Mis, whose brusque voice rose. Sire, we have been told that it will require your permission for us to visit the Imperial University Library on Trantor.Trantor? questioned the emperor, mildly, Trantor?Then a look of puzzled pain pass over his thin face. Trantor? he whispered. I remember now. I am making plans now to return there with a flood of ships at my back. You shall come with me. Together we will destroy the rebel, Gilmer. Together we shall restore the conglomerateHis bent back had straightened. His voice had strengthened. For a moment his eyes were hard. Then, he blinked and said softly, But Gilmer is dead. I seem to remember Yes. Yes Gilmer is dead Trantor is dead For a moment, it seemed Where was it you said you came from?Magnifico whispered to Bayta, Is this really an emperor? For in some manner I thought emperors were greater and wiser than ordinary men.Bayta motioned him quiet. She said, If your imperial majesty would but sign an order permitting us to go to Trantor, it would avail greatly the common cause.To Trantor? The emperor was blank and uncomprehending.Sire, the Viceroy of Anacreon, in whose name we speak, sends formulate that Gilmer is yet alive-Alive Alive thundered Dagobert. Where? It will be warYour imperial majesty, it must not yet be known. His where abouts are uncertain. The viceroy sends us to acquaint you of the fact, and it is only on Trantor that we may find his covert place. Once discovered-Yes, yes He must be found- The old emperor doddered to the wall and touched the little magic eye with a trembling dactyl. He muttered, after an in meatual pause, My servants do not come. I can not wait for them.He was scribbling on a blank sheet, and ended with a flourished D. He said, Gilmer will yet learn the power of his emperor. Where was it you came from? Anacreon? What are the conditions there? Is the name of the emperor powerful?Bayta took the paper from his loose fingers, Your imperial majesty is beloved by the people. Your love for them is widely known.I shall have to visit my good people of Anacreon, but my doctor says I dont remember what he says, but- He looked up, his old gray eyes sharp, Were you say something of Gilmer?No, your imperial majesty.He shall not advance further. Go back and tell your people that. Trantor s hall hold My father leads the fleet now, and the rebel vermin Gilmer shall freeze in space with his regicidal rabble.He staggered into a seat and his eyes were blank once more. What was I saying?Toran rose and bowed low, Your imperial majesty has been kind to us, but the time allotted us for an audience is over. For a moment, Dagobert IX looked like an emperor indeed as he rose and stood stiff-backed while, one by one, his visitors retreated backward through the door to where twenty armed men intervened and locked a circle about them.A hand-weapon flashed-To Bayta, consciousness returned sluggishly, but without the Where am I? sensation. She remembered clearly the odd old man who called himself emperor, and the other men who waited outside. The arthritic tingle in her finger joints meant a stun pistol.She kept her eyes closed, and listened with painful attention to the voices.There were two of them. One was retard and cautious, with a slyness beneath the surface obsequity. The oth er was hoarse and thick, almost sodden, and blurted out in embarrassing spurts. Bayta liked neither.The thick voice was predominant.Bayta caught the last words, He will live forever, that old madman. It wearies me. It annoys me. Commason, I will have it. I grow older, too.Your highness, let us first see of what use these people are. It may be we shall have sources of strength other than your father still provides.The thick voice was lost in a bubbling whisper. Bayta caught only the phrase, -the girl- but the other, fawning voice was a nasty, low, running chuckle followed by a comradely, near-patronizing, Dagobert, you do not age. They lie who say you are not a youth of twenty.They laughed together, and Baytas blood was an icy trickle. Dagobert your highness The old emperor had spoken of a headstrong son, and the implication of the whispers now mark off fainty upon her. But such things didnt happen to people in real life-Torans voice broke upon her in a slow, hard current of cu rsing.She opened her eyes, and Torans, which were upon her, showed open relief. He said, fiercely, This banditry will be reactioned by the emperor. stop us.It dawned upon Bayta that her wrists and ankles were fastened to wall and floor by a tight attraction field.Thick Voice approached Toran. He was paunchy, his lower eyelids puffed darkly, and his hair was thinning out. There was a gay feather in his top out hat, and the edging of his doublet was embroidered with silvery metal-foam.He sneered with a heavy amusement. The emperor? The poor, mad emperor?I have his pass. No subject may hinder our freedom.But I am no subject, space-garbage. I am the regent and crown prince and am to be addressed as such. As for my poor silly father, it amuses him to see visitors occasionally. And we humor him. It tickles his mock-imperial fancy. But, of course, it has no other meaning.And then he was before Bayta, and she looked up at him contemptuously. He leaned close and his breath was overpowerin gly minted.He said, Her eyes suit well, Commason she is even prettier with them open. I think shell do. It will be an exotic dish for a jaded taste, eh?There was a futile surge upwards on Torans part, which the crown prince ignored and Bayta felt the iciness travel outward to the skin. Ebling Mis was still out head lolling frail upon his chest, but, with a sensation of surprise, Bayta noted that Magnificos eyes were open, sharply open, as though awake for many minutes. Those large brown eyes swiveled towards Bayta and stared at her out of a doughy face.He whimpered, and nodded with his head towards the crown prince, That one has my Visi-Sonor.The crown prince turned sharply toward the new voice, This is yours, nut? He swung the instrument from his shoulder where it had hung, suspended by its green strap, unnoticed by Bayta.He fingered it clumsily, tried to sound a chord and got postal code for his pains, Can you play it, monster?Magnifico nodded once.Toran said suddenly, Youve ri fled a ship of the Foundation. If the emperor will not avenge, the Foundation will.It was the other, Commason, who answered slowly, What Foundation? Or is the Mule no longer the Mule?There was no answer to that. The princes grin showed large uneven teeth. The clowns binding field was broken and he was nudged ungently to his feet. The Visi-Sonor was thrust into his hand.Play for us, monster, said the prince. Play us a serenade of love and beauty for our foreign dame here. Tell her that my fathers country prison is no palace, but that I can take her to one where she can swim in rose water and know what a princes love is. Sing of a princes love, monster.He placed one thick thigh upon a marble table and swung a leg idly, while his fatuous glad stare swept Bayta into a silent rage. Torans sinews strained against the field, in painful, perspiring effort. Ebling Mis stirred and moaned.Magnifico gasped, My fingers are of useless stiffness-Play, monster roared the prince. The lights dimme d at a gesture to Commason and in the dimness he crossed his arms and waited.Magnifico draw his fingers in rapid, rhythmic jumps from end to end of the multikeyed instrument and a sharp, gliding rainbow of light jumped across the room. A low, soft tone sounded throbbing, tearful. It lifted in sad laughter, and underneath it there sounded a dull tolling.The vestige seemed to intensify and grow thick. Music reached Bayta through the muffled folds of invisible blankets. Gleaming light reached her from the depths as though a single candle glowed at the bottom of a pit.Automatically, her eyes strained. The light brightened, but remained blurred. It travel fuzzily, in confused color, and the music was suddenly brassy, evil flourishing in high crescendo. The light flickered quickly, in swift motion to the wicked rhythm. Something twist within the light. Something with poisonous metallic scales writhed and yawned. And the music writhed and yawned with it.Bayta struggled with a strange emotion and then caught herself in a mental gasp. Almost, it reminded her of the time in the meter Vault, of those last days on Haven. It was that horrible, cloying, clinging spiderweb of horror and despair. She shrunk beneath it oppressed.The music dinned upon her, laughing horribly, and the writhing terror at the wrong end of the telescope in the small circle of light was lost as she turned feverishly away. Her forehead was wet and cold.The music died. It must have lasted fifteen minutes, and a vast pleasure at its absence flooded Bayta. Light glared, and Magnificos face was close to hers, sweaty, wild-eyed, lugubrious.My lady, he gasped, how fare you?Well enough, she whispered, but why did you play like that?She became aware of the others in the room. Toran and Mis were limp and helpless against the wall, but her eyes glide over them. There was the prince, lying strangely still at the foot of the table. There was Commason, moaning wildly through an open, drooling mouth.Commaso n flinched, and yelled mindlessly, as Magnifico took a step towards him.Magnifico turned, and with a leap, turned the others loose.Toran lunged upwards and with eager, taut fists seized the landowner by the neck, You come with us. Well want you to make sure we get to our ship.Two hours later, in the ships kitchen, Bayta served a walloping homemade pie, and Magnifico celebrated the return to space by attacking it with a magnificent disregard of table manners.Good, Magnifico?Um-m-m-mMagnifico?Yes, my lady?What was it you played back there?The clown writhed, I Id rather not say. I learned it once, and the Visi-Sonor is of an effect upon the nervous system most profound. Surely, it was an evil thing, and not for your sweet innocence, my lady.Oh, now, come, Magnifico. Im not as innocent as that. Dont flatter so. Did I see anything like what they saw?I hope not. I played it for them only. If you saw, it was but the rim of it from afar.And that was enough. Do you know you knocked the pri nce out?Magnifico spoke grimly through a large, muffling piece of pie. I killed him, my lady.What? She swallowed, painfully.He was dead when I stopped, or I would have continued. I cared not for Commason. His greatest panic was death or torture. But, my lady, this prince looked upon you wickedly, and- he choked in a mixture of indignation and embarrassment.Bayta felt strange thoughts come and repressed them sternly. Magnifico, youve got a gallant soul.Oh, my lady. He bent a red nose into his pie, but, someways did not eat.Ebling Mis stared out the port. Trantor was near its metallic shine fearfully bright. Toran was standing there, too.He said with dull bitterness, Weve come for nothing, Ebling. The Mules man precedes us.Ebling Mis rubbed his forehead with a hand that seemed shriveled out of its former plumpness. His voice was an indifferent mutter.Toran was annoyed. I say those people know the Foundation has fallen. I say-Eh? Mis looked up, puzzled. Then, he placed a low hand u pon Torans wrist, in complete oblivion of any previous conversation, Toran, I Ive been looking at Trantor. Do you know I have the queerest feeling ever since we arrived on Neotrantor. Its an urge, a driving urge thats force and pushing inside. Toran, I can do it I know I can do it. Things are becoming clear in my mind they have never been so clear.Toran stared and shrugged. The words brought him no confidence.He said, tentatively, Mis?Yes?You didnt see a ship come down on Neotrantor as we left?Consideration was brief. No.I did. Imagination, I suppose, but it could have been that Filian ship.The one with Captain Han Pritcher on it?The one with space knows who upon it. Magnificos culture It followed us here, Mis.Ebling Mis said nothing,Toran said strenuously, is there anything wrong with you? Arent you well?Miss eyes were thoughtful, luminous, and strange. He did not answer.