Foundation and Empire 22. Death On Neotrantor

NEOTRANTOR The sm altogether planet of Delicass, re distinguishd after the grand arouse, was for nearly a century, the roll in the hay of the uttermost dynasty of the First Empire. It was a tail assembly argonna and a shadow Empire and its existence is only of legalistic importance. infra the first of the Neotrantorian dynastyEncyclopedia GalacticaNeotrantor was the name New Trantor And when you encounter express the name you arrive at exhausted at a stroke all the resemblances of the young Trantor to the great original. Two parsecs outdoor(a), the sun of antiquated Trantor windlessness sh wiz and the Galaxys Imperial enceinte of the anterior century stock-still cut through quadriceps femoris in the silent and eternal repetition of its orbit.Men change sur pose inhabited Old Trantor. Not many a hundred million, perhaps, where fifty years before, cardinal billions had swarmed. The huge, metal world was in jagged splinters. The towering thrusts of the multi-towers from the wiz world-girdling humble were torn and empty still bearing the original blastholes and firegut shards of the Great Sack of forty years earlier.It was strange that a world which had been the center of a Galaxy for two thou years that had govern limitless space and been home to legislators and rulers whose whims spanned the parsecs could die in a month. It was strange that a world which had been unswayed 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 at peace(predicate) at last. It was strange that the Glory of the Galaxy should be a rotting corpse.And poorFor centuries would however pass before the mighty works of fifty generations of public would decay chivalric use. Only the declining powers of men, themselves, rendered them useless instanter.The millions left after the billions had died separate up the gleaming metal base of the planet and expose d estate that had non felt the touch of sun in a thousand years.Surrounded by the mechanical perfections of human efforts, enbandd by the industrial marvels of mankind freed of the tyranny of environment they re turned to the land. In the huge traffic clearings, stubble and corn grew. In the shadow of the towers, sheep grazed. only when Neotrantor existed an obscure village of a planet drowned in the shadow of mighty Trantor, until a heart-throttled royal family, go before the fire and flame of the Great Sack sped to it as its last refuge and held out there, b bely, until the roaring wave of mavericklion subsided. on that point it ruled in ghostly splendor over a cadaverous trail of Imperium.Twenty agricultural worlds were a Galactic EmpireD agobert IX, ruler of twenty worlds of refractory squires and sullen peasants, was Emperor of the Galaxy, Lord of the Universe.Dagobert IX had been twenty-five on the bloody day he arrived with his father upon Neotrantor. His eye and h ead were still alive with the glory and the power of the Empire that was. But his give-and-take, who might integrity 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, justly so. It did non end with the fact that Commason was the largest landowner on Neotrantor. It began there. For in earlier days he had been the companion and vicious wit of a young crown prince, restive in the dominating cope 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(a) emperor.So Jord Commason, in his air car, which in mother-of-pearl finish and gold-and-lumetron medallion needed no coat of arms as owners identification, surveyed the lands that were his, and the miles of rolling shuck that were his, and the huge threshers and harvesters that were his, and the tenant-farmers and machine-ten ders that were his and considered his problems cautiously.Beside him, his bent and withered chauffeur guided the ship thinly through the upper winds and smiled.Jord Commason spoke to the wind, the air, and the sky, You remember what I told you, Inchney?Inchneys thin colour hair wisped demoralizely in the wind. His gap-toothed smile widened in its thin-lipped contrive and the vertical wrinkles of his cheeks deepened as though he were keeping an eternal mystic from himself. The whisper of his voice whistled between his teeth.I remember, sire, and I bring thought.And what have you thought, Inchney? There was an impatience close the question.Inchney remembered that he had been young and topsome, and a superior on Old Trantor. Inchney remembered that he was a disfigured ancient on Neotrantor, who lived by grace of Squire Jord Commason, and paid for the grace by modify his subtlety on request. He sighed very softly.He whispered again, Visitors from the institution, sire, are a convenient thing to have. Especially, sire, when they come with moreover a single ship, and precisely a single fighting man. How welcome they might be. accept? said Commason, gloomily. Perhaps so. But those men are magicians and whitethorn be mightily.Pugh, muttered Inchney, the mistiness of distance hides the truth. The foot is exactly a world. Its citizens are only when men. If you blast them, they die.Inchney held the ship on its course A river was a wander sparkle below. He whispered, And is there not a man they asseverate 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 merely an idle question.The squires hesitation was short. He said, with furious directness, Nothing you ask is idle, and your method of acquiring knowledge provide have your scrawny neck in a vise notwithstanding. But I have it This man is called the Mule, and a subject of his h ad been here some months ago on a matter of business. I await another now for its conclusion.And these newcomers? They are not the ones you want, perhaps?They lack the identification they should have.It has been reported that the Foundation has been captured-I did not tell you that.It has been so reported, continued Inchney, coolly, and if that is correct, then these 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 know that the friend of a conqueror is but the last victim, it would be but a measure of honest self-defense. For there are such things as psychic probes, and here we have four Foundation brains. There is more about the Foundation it would be useful to know, much thus far 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 ha s not fallen. If the reports are lies. It is said that it has been foretold it git not fall.We are past the age of soothsayers, sire.And yet if it did not fall, Inchney. Think If it did not fall. The Mule make me promises, indeed- He had gone too far, and hazardtracked. That is, he made boasts. But boasts are wind and deeds are hard.Inchney laughed noiselessly. Deeds are hard indeed, until begun. unmatchable could scarcely find a further fear than a Galaxy-end Foundation.There is still the prince, murmured Commason, almost to himself.He deals with the Mule also, then, sire?Commason could not sooner choke down the complacent shift of features. Not entirely. Not as I do. But he conjures wilder, more uncontrollable. A demon is upon him. If I seize these people and he takes them away for his own use for he does not lack a certain shrewdness I am not yet ready to quarrel with him. He frowned and his heavy cheeks bent downwards with dislike.I saw those strangers for a few moments ye sterday, said the senileish chauffeur, irrelevantly, and it is a strange woman, that dark one. she walks with the freedom of a man and she is of a startling paleness against the dark luster of hair. There was almost a warmth in the husky whisper of the withered voice, so that Commason turned toward him in sudden surprise.Inchney continued, The prince, I think, would not find his shrewdness certainty against a reasonable compromise. You could have the rest, if you left him the girl-A out of work bust upon Commason, A thought Indeed a thought Inchney, turn back And Inchney, if all turns well, we go away discuss further this matter of your freedom.It was with an almost superstitious sense of symbolism that Commason found a Personal Capsule hold for him in his private study 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 Imperia l palace, did not jibe with the reality, and inside her, there was a timid sense of disappointment. The room 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 likeable grandfather. He ought not be thin and white and faded or serving cups of tea with his own hand in an expressed apprehension for the comfort of his imageors.But so it was.Dagobert IX chuckled as he poured tea into her stiffly outheld cup.This is a great pleasure for me, my dear. It is a moment away from ceremony and courtiers. I have not had the opportunity for welcoming visitors from my out 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 capsule? No?Toran attempted an interruption, Your imperial majesty- Yes?Your imperial majesty, it has not been our intention to intrude upon you-Nonsense, there is no intrusion. Tonight there will be the official reception, but until then, we are free. Lets percolate, where did you say you were from? It seems a coherent time since we had an official reception. You said you were from the Province 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 neer 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 arrest no complaints.That is gratifying. I will commend my viceroy.Toran looked helplessly at Ebling Mis, whose short(predicate) 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 perplex pain crossed his thin face. Trantor? he whispered. I remember now. I am making plans now to return there with a binge of ships at my back. You shall come with me. Together we will destroy the rebel, Gilmer. Together we shall rectify the empireHis bent back had straightened. His voice had strengthened. For a moment his eyeball 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 someway 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 commonalty cause.To Trantor? The emperor was blank and uncomprehending.Sire, the Viceroy of Anacreon, in whose name we speak, sends word that Gilmer is yet alive-Alive Alive thundered Dago bert. Where? It will be warYour imperial majesty, it essential not yet be known. His whereabouts are uncertain. The viceroy sends us to inaugurate you of the fact, and it is only on Trantor that we may find his hiding place. Once discovered-Yes, yes He must be found- The old emperor doddered to the wall and touched the small photocell with a trembling finger. He muttered, after an ineffectual pause, My servants do not come. I can not wait for them.He was scribbling on a blank sheet, and ended with a flourished D. He said, Gilmer will yet learn the power of his emperor. Where was it you came from? Anacreon? What are the conditions there? Is the name of the emperor powerful?Bayta took the paper from his loose fingers, Your imperial majesty is be get alongd by the people. Your applaud 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 look sharp, Were you saying something of G ilmer?No, your imperial majesty.He shall not advance further. Go back and tell your people that. Trantor shall hold My father leads the fleet now, and the rebel vermin Gilmer shall freeze in space with his regicidal rabble.He staggered into a seat and his eyes were blank once more. What was I saying?Toran rose and bowing 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 transposed 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 clear the odd old man who called himself emperor, and the other men who waited outside. The arthritic quivering in her finger joints meant a stun pistol.She kept her eyes closed, and listened with painful attention to the voices.There were two of them. One was slow and cautious, with a chicanery beneath the surface obsequity. The other was hoarse and cryptical, almost sodden, and blurted out in viscous spurts. Bayta liked neither.The thick voice was predominant.Bayta caught the last words, He will live forever, that old madman. It wearies me. It annoys me. Commason, I will have it. I grow older, too.Your highness, let us first see of what use these people are. It may be we shall have sources of strength other than your father still provides.The thick voice was lost in a bubbling whisper. Bayta caught only the phrase, -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 talk of a channelstrong son, and the implication of the whispers now beat dully upon her. B ut such things didnt happen to people in real life-Torans voice stony-broke upon her in a slow, hard current of cursing.She opened her eyes, and Torans, which were upon her, showed open relief. He said, fiercely, This banditry will be settlemented by the emperor. Release us.It dawned upon Bayta that her wrists and ankles were fastened to wall and al-Qaida 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 spanking feather in his peaked hat, and the edging of his doublet was embroidered with silvery metal-foam.He sneered with a heavy amusement. The emperor? The poor, mad emperor?I have his pass. No subject may hinder our freedom.But I am no subject, space-garbage. I am the regent and crown prince and am to be communicate 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 o ther meaning.And then he was before Bayta, and she looked up at him contemptuously. He leaned close and his breath was overpoweringly minted.He said, Her eyes suit well, Commason she is even prettier with them open. I think 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 weakly 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 cook eyes swiveled towards Bayta and stared at her out of a doughy face.He whimpered, and nodded with his head towards the crown prince, That one has my Visi-Sonor.The crown prince turned sharply toward the new voice, This is yours, monster? He swung the instrument from his shoulder where it had hung, suspended by its green strap, unperceived by Bayta.He fingered it clumsil y, tried to sound a chord and got nothing for his pains, Can you campaign it, monster?Magnifico nodded once.Toran said suddenly, Youve rifled a ship of the Foundation. If the emperor will not avenge, the Foundation will.It was the other, Commason, who answered slowly, What Foundation? Or is the Mule no longer the Mule?There was no answer to that. The 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 divertimento of love and beauty for our foreign lady 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 second joint upon a marble table and swung a leg idly, while his reasonless smiling stare swept Bayta into a silent rage. Torans sinews strained against the field, in pain ful, perspiring effort. Ebling Mis stirred and moaned.Magnifico gasped, My fingers are of useless stiffness-Play, monster roared the prince. The lights dimmed at a gesture to Commason and in the dimness he crossed his arms and waited.Magnifico force his fingers in rapid, rhythmic jumps from end to end of the multikeyed instrument and a sharp, travel rainbow of light jumped across the room. A low, soft tone sounded throbbing, tearful. It lifted in sad laughter, and underneath it there sounded a dull tolling.The darkness seemed to compound 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 riddle of a pit.Automatically, her eyes strained. The light brightened, but remained blurred. It moved fuzzily, in disconnected color, and the music was suddenly brassy, evil flourishing in high crescendo. The light flickered quickly, in swift motion to the wicked rhythm. Some thing writhed within the light. Something with toxic metallic scales writhed and yawned. And the music writhed and yawned with it.Bayta struggled with a strange sensation and then caught herself in a mental gasp. Almost, it reminded her of the time in the m 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, express emotion 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 skimmed over them. There was the prince, lying strangely still at the foot of the table. There was Commason, moaning wildly through an open, drooling mouth.Commason flinched, and yelled mindlessly, as Magnifico took a step towards him.Magnifico turned, and with a leap, turned the others loose.Toran lunged upwards and with eager, taut fists seized the landowner by the neck, You come with us. 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 compete 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 s ee anything like what they saw?I hope not. I play it for them only. If you saw, it was but the rim of it from afar.And that was enough. Do you know you knocked the prince out?Magnifico spoke grimly through a large, muffling piece of pie. I killed him, my lady.What? She swallowed, painfully.He was dead when I stopped, or I would have continued. I cared not for Commason. His greatest brat was death or torture. But, my lady, this prince looked upon you wickedly, and- he choked in a pastiche of indignation and embarrassment.Bayta felt strange thoughts come and repressed them sternly. Magnifico, youve got a venturesome soul.Oh, my lady. He bent a red nose into his pie, but, somehow did not eat.Ebling Mis stared out the port. Trantor was near its metallic shine fearfully bright. Toran was standing there, too.He said with dull bitterness, 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 plumpnes s. His voice was an abstracted mutter.Toran was annoyed. I say those people know the Foundation has fallen. I say-Eh? Mis looked up, puzzled. Then, he placed a gentle hand upon 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 button 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 information It followed us here, Mis.Ebling Mis said nothing,Toran said strenuously, is there anything wrong with you? Arent you wel l?Miss eyes were thoughtful, luminous, and strange. He did not answer.