Foundation and Earth (9 page)

“No,” said Trevize. “Not an unnecessary one.”

“You’re not impressed, are you?”

“Look,” said Trevize. “We have worlds that are colder than average and worlds that are warmer; worlds that are tropical forests to a large extent, and worlds that are vast savannahs. No two worlds are alike, and every one of them is home to those who are used to it. I am used to the relative mildness of Terminus—we’ve tamed it to an almost Gaian moderation, actually—but I like to get away, at least temporarily, to something different. What we have, Bliss, that
Gaia doesn’t have, is variation. If Gaia expands into Galaxia, will every world in the Galaxy be forced into mildness? The sameness would be unbearable.”

Bliss said, “If that is so, and if variety seems desirable, variety will be maintained.”

“As a gift from the central committee, so to speak?” said Trevize dryly. “And as little of it as they can bear to part with? I’d rather leave it to nature.”

“But you
haven’t
left it to nature. Every habitable world in the Galaxy has been modified. Every single one was found in a state of nature that was uncomfortable for humanity, and every single one was modified until it was as mild as could be managed. If this world here is cold, I am certain that is because its inhabitants couldn’t warm it any further without unacceptable expense. And even so, the portions they actually inhabit we can be sure are artificially warmed into mildness. So don’t be so loftily virtuous about leaving it to nature.”

Trevize said, “You speak for Gaia, I suppose.”

“I always speak for Gaia. I
am
Gaia.”

“Then if Gaia is so certain of its own superiority, why did you require
my
decision? Why have you not gone ahead without me?”

Bliss paused, as though to collect her thoughts. She said, “Because it is not wise to trust one’s self overmuch. We naturally see our virtues with clearer eyes than we see our defects. We are anxious to do what is right; not necessarily what
seems
right to us, but what
is
right, objectively, if such a thing as objective right exists. You seem to be the nearest approach to objective right that we can find, so we are guided by you.”

“So objectively right,” said Trevize sadly, “that I don’t even understand my own decision and I seek its justification.”

“You’ll find it,” said Bliss.

“I hope so,” said Trevize.

“Actually, old chap,” said Pelorat, “it seems to me that this recent exchange was won rather handily by
Bliss. Why don’t you recognize the fact that her arguments justify your decision that Gaia is the wave of the future for humanity?”

“Because,” said Trevize harshly, “I did not know those arguments at the time I made my decision. I knew none of these details about Gaia. Something else influenced me, at least unconsciously, something that doesn’t depend upon Gaian detail, but must be more fundamental. It is that which I must find out.”

Pelorat held up a placating hand. “Don’t be angry, Golan.”

“I’m not angry. I’m just under rather unbearable tension. I don’t want to be the focus of the Galaxy.”

Bliss said, “I don’t blame you for that, Trevize, and I’m truly sorry that your own makeup has somehow forced you into the post. —When will we be landing on Comporellon?”

“In three days,” said Trevize, “and only after we stop at one of the entry stations in orbit about it.”

Pelorat said, “There shouldn’t be any problem with that, should there?”

Trevize shrugged. “It depends on the number of ships approaching the world, the number of entry stations that exist, and, most of all, on the particular rules for permitting and refusing admittance. Such rules change from time to time.”

Pelorat said indignantly, “What do you mean
refusing
admittance? How can they refuse admittance to citizens of the Foundation? Isn’t Comporellon part of the Foundation dominion?”

“Well, yes—and no. There’s a delicate matter of legalism about the point and I’m not sure how Comporellon interprets it. I suppose there’s a chance we’ll be refused admission, but I don’t think it’s a large chance.”

“And if we are refused, what do we do?”

“I’m not sure,” said Trevize. “Let’s wait and see what happens before we wear ourselves out making contingency plans.”

THEY WERE CLOSE ENOUGH TO COMPORELLON now for it to appear as a substantial globe without telescopic enlargement. When such enlargement was added, however, the entry stations themselves could be seen. They were farther out than most of the orbiting structures about the planet and they were well lit.

Approaching as the
Far Star
was from the direction of the planet’s southern pole, half its globe was sunlit constantly. The entry stations on its night side were naturally more clearly seen as sparks of light. They were evenly spaced in an arc about the planet. Six of them were visible (plus six on the day side undoubtedly) and all were circling the planet at even and identical speeds.

Pelorat, a little awed at the sight, said, “There are other lights closer to the planet. What are they?”

Trevize said, “I don’t know the planet in detail so I can’t tell you. Some might be orbiting factories or laboratories or observatories, or even populated townships. Some planets prefer to keep all orbiting objects outwardly dark, except for the entry stations. Terminus does, for instance. Comporellon conducts itself on a more liberal principle, obviously.”

“Which entry station do we go to, Golan?”

“It depends on them. I’ve sent in my request to land on Comporellon and we’ll eventually get our directions as to which entry station to go to, and when. Much depends on how many incoming ships are trying to make entry at present. If there are a dozen ships lined up at each station, we will have no choice but to be patient.”

Bliss said, “I’ve only been at hyperspatial distances from Gaia twice before, and those were both when I was at or near Sayshell. I’ve never been at anything like
this
distance.”

Trevize looked at her sharply. “Does it matter? You’re still Gaia, aren’t you?”

For a moment, Bliss looked irritated, but then dissolved
into what was almost an embarrassed titter. “I must admit you’ve caught me this time, Trevize. There is a double meaning in the word ‘Gaia.’ It can be used to refer to the physical planet as a solid globular object in space. It can also be used to refer to the living object that includes that globe. Properly speaking, we should use two different words for these two different concepts, but Gaians always know from the context what is being referred to. I admit that an Isolate might be puzzled at times.”

“Well, then,” said Trevize, “admitting that you are many thousands of parsecs from Gaia as globe, are you still part of Gaia as organism?”

“Referring to the organism, I am still Gaia.”

“No attenuation?”

“Not in essence. I’m sure I’ve already told you there is some added complexity in remaining Gaia across hyperspace, but I remain Gaia.”

Trevize said, “Does it occur to you that Gaia may be viewed as a Galactic kraken—the tentacled monster of the legends—with its tentacles reaching everywhere. You have but to put a few Gaians on each of the populated worlds and you will virtually have Galaxia right there. In fact, you have probably done exactly that. Where are your Gaians located? I presume that one or more are on Terminus and one or more are on Trantor. How much farther does this go?”

Bliss looked distinctly uncomfortable. “I have said I won’t lie to you, Trevize, but that doesn’t mean I feel compelled to give you the whole truth. There are some things you have no need to know, and the position and identity of individual bits of Gaia are among them.”

“Do I need to know the reason for the existence of those tentacles, Bliss, even if I don’t know where they are?”

“It is the opinion of Gaia that you do not.”

“I presume, though, that I may guess. You believe you serve as the guardians of the Galaxy.”

“We are anxious to have a stable and secure
Galaxy; a peaceful and prosperous one. The Seldon Plan, as originally worked out by Hari Seldon at least, is designed to develop a Second Galactic Empire, one that is more stable and more workable than the First was. The Plan, which has been continually modified and improved by the Second Foundation, has appeared to be working well so far.”

“But Gaia doesn’t want a Second Galactic Empire in the classic sense, does it? You want Galaxia—a living Galaxy.”

“Since you permit it, we hope, in time, to have Galaxia. If you had not permitted it, we would have striven for Seldon’s Second Empire and made it as secure as we could.”

“But what is wrong with—”

His ear caught the soft, burring signal. Trevize said, “The computer is signaling me. I suppose it is receiving directions concerning the entry station. I’ll be back.”

He stepped into the pilot-room and placed his hands on those marked out on the desk top and found that there
were
directions for the specific entry station he was to approach—its co-ordinates with reference to the line from Comporellon’s center to its north pole—the prescribed route of approach.

Trevize signaled his acceptance, and then sat back for a moment.

The Seldon Plan! He had not thought of it for quite a time. The First Galactic Empire had crumbled and for five hundred years the Foundation had grown, first in competition with that Empire, and then upon its ruins—all in accordance with the Plan.

There had been the interruption of the Mule, which, for a time, had threatened to shiver the Plan into fragments, but the Foundation had pulled through—probably with the help of the ever-hidden Second Foundation—possibly with the help of the even-better-hidden Gaia.

Now the Plan was threatened by something more serious than the Mule had ever been. It was to be diverted
from a renewal of Empire to something utterly different from anything in history—Galaxia.
And he himself had agreed to that
.

But why? Was there a flaw in the Plan? A basic flaw?

For one flashing moment, it seemed to Trevize that this flaw did indeed exist and that he knew what it was, that he had known what it was when he made his decision—but the knowledge … if that were what it was … vanished as fast as it came, and it left him with nothing.

Perhaps it was all only an illusion; both when he had made his decision, and now. After all, he knew nothing about the Plan beyond the basic assumptions that validated psychohistory. Apart from that, he knew no detail, and certainly not a single scrap of its mathematics.

He closed his eyes and thought—

There was nothing.

Might it be the added power he received from the computer? He placed his hands on the desk top and felt the warmth of the computer’s hands embracing them. He closed his eyes and once more he thought—

There was still nothing.

THE COMPORELLIAN WHO BOARDED THE SHIP wore a holographic identity card. It displayed his chubby, lightly bearded face with remarkable fidelity, and underneath it was his name, A. Kendray.

He was rather short, and his body was as softly rounded as his face was. He had a fresh and easygoing look and manner, and he stared about the ship with clear amazement.

He said, “How did you get down this fast? We weren’t expecting you for two hours.”

“It’s a new-model ship,” said Trevize, with noncommittal politeness.

Kendray was not quite the young innocent he looked, however. He stepped into the pilot-room and said at once, “Gravitic?”

Trevize saw no point in denying anything that was apparently that obvious. He said tonelessly, “Yes.”

“Very interesting. You hear of them, but you never see them somehow. Motors in the hull?”

“That’s so.”

Kendray looked at the computer. “Computer circuits, likewise?”

“That’s so. Anyway, I’m told so. I’ve never looked.”

“Oh well. What I need is the ship’s documentation; engine number, place of manufacture, identification code, the whole patty-cake. It’s all in the computer, I’m sure, and it can probably turn out the formal card I need in half a second.”

It took very little more than that. Kendray looked about again. “You three all the people on board?”

Trevize said, “That’s right.”

“Any live animals? Plants? State of health?”

“No. No. And good,” said Trevize crisply.

“Um!” said Kendray, making notes. “Could you put your hand in here? Just routine. —Right hand, please.”

Trevize looked at the device without favor. It was being used more and more commonly, and was growing quickly more elaborate. You could almost tell the backwardness of a world at a glance by the backwardness of its microdetector. There were now few worlds, however backward, that didn’t have one at all. The start had come with the final breakup of the Empire, as each fragment of the whole grew increasingly anxious to protect itself from the diseases and alien microorganisms of all the others.

“What is that?” asked Bliss, in a low and interested voice, craning her head to see it first on one side, then the other.

Pelorat said, “A microdetector, I believe they call it.”

Trevize added, “It’s nothing mysterious. It’s a device that automatically checks a portion of your body, inside
and out, for any microorganism capable of transmitting disease.”

“This will classify the microorganisms, too,” said Kendray, with rather more than a hint of pride. “It’s been worked out right here on Comporellon. —And if you don’t mind, I still want your right hand.”

Trevize inserted his right hand, and watched as a series of small red markings danced along a set of horizontal lines. Kendray touched a contact and a facsimile in color appeared at once. “If you’ll sign that, sir,” he said.

Trevize did so. “How badly off am I?” he asked. “I’m not in any great danger, am I?”

Kendray said, “I’m not a physician, so I can’t say in detail, but it shows none of the marks that would require you to be turned away or to be put in quarantine. That’s all I’m interested in.”

“What a lucky break for me,” said Trevize dryly, shaking his hand to rid himself of the slight tingle he felt.