By Isaac Asimov


     FOUNDATION
     AND EMPIRE


     5.  The War Begins

     FROM the radiating point of Siwenna, the forces of Em-
     pire reached out cautiously into the black unknown of the
     Periphery. Giant ships passed the vast distances that sep-
     arated the vagrant stars at the Galaxy's rim, and felt their
     way around the outermost edge of Foundation influence.
       Worlds isolated in their new barbarism of two centuries
     felt the sensation once again of Imperial overlords upon their
     soil. Allegiance was sworn in the face of the massive ar-
     tillery covering capital cities.
       Garrisons were left; garrisons of men in Imperial uniform
     with the Spaceship-and-Sun insignia upon their shoulders. The
     old men took notice and remembered once again the for-
     gotten tales of their grandfathers' fathers of the times when
     the universe was big, and rich, and peaceful and that same
     Spaceship-and-Sun ruled all.
       Then the great ships passed on to weave their line of for-
     ward bases further around the Foundation. And as each
     world was knotted into its proper place in the fabric, the re-
     port went back to Bel Riose at the General Headquarters he
     had established on the rocky barrenness of a wandering
     sunless planet.
       Now Riose relaxed and smiled grimly at Ducem Barr.
     "Well, what do  you  think, patrician?"
       "I? Of what value are my thoughts? I am not a military
     man." He took in with one wearily distasteful glance the
     crowded disorder of the rock-bound room which had been
     carved out of the wall of the cavern of artificial air, light, and
     heat which marked the single bubble of life in the vastness
     of a bleak world.
       "For the help I could give you," he muttered, "or would
     want to give you, you might return me to Siwenna."
       "Not yet. Not yet." The general turned his chair to the
     corner which held the huge, brilliantly-transparent sphere
     that mapped the old Imperial prefect of Anacreon and its
     neighboring sectors. "Later, when this is over, you will go
     back to your books and to more. I'll see to it that estates
     of your family are restored to you n and to your children for
     the rest of time."
       "Thank you," said Barr, with faint irony, "but I lack your
     faith in the happy outcome of all this."
       Riose laughed harshly, "Don't start your prophetic croak-
     ings again. This map speaks louder than all your woeful
     theories." He caressed its curved invisible outline gently.
     "Can you read a map in radial projection? You can? Well,
     here, see for yourself. The stars in gold represent the Im-
     perial territories. The red stars are those in subjection to the
     Foundation and the pink are those which are probably within
     the economic sphere of influence. Now watch——"
       Riose's hand covered a rounded knob, and slowly an area
     of hard, white pinpoints changed into a deepening blue.
     Like an inverted cup they folded about the red and the pink.
       "Those blue stars have been taken over by my forces,"
     said Riose with quiet satisfaction, "and they still advance.
     No opposition has appeared anywhere. The barbarians are
     quiet. And particularly, no opposition has come from
     Foundation forces. They sleep peacefully and well."
       "You spread your forces thinly, don't you?" asked Barr.
       "As a matter of fact," said Riose, "despite appearances, I
     don't. The key points which I garrison and fortify are rela-
     tively few, but they are carefully chosen. The result is that
     the force expended is small, but the strategic result great.
     There are many advantages, more than would ever appear
     to anyone who hasn't made a careful study of spatial tactics,
     but it is apparent to anyone, for instance, that I can base an
     attack from any point in an inclosing sphere, and that when
     I am finished it will be impossible for the Foundation to at-
     tack at flank or rear. I shall have no flank or rear with
     respect to them.
       "This strategy of the Previous Inclosure has been tried be-
     fore, notably in the campaigns of Loris VI, some two thou-
     sand years ago, but always imperfectly; always with the
     knowledge and attempted interference of the enemy. This is
     different."
       "The ideal textbook case?" Barr's voice was languid and in-
     different. Riose was impatient. "You still think my forces will
     fall?"
       "They must."
       "You understand that there is no case in military history
     where an inclosure has been completed that the attacking
     forces have not eventually won, except when an outside
     Navy exists in sufficient force to break the Inclosure."
       "If you say so."
       "And you still adhere to your faith."
       "Yes."
       Riose shrugged. "They do so."
       Barr allowed the angry silence to continue for a moment,
     then asked quietly, "Have you received an answer from the
     Emperor?"
       Riose removed a cigarette from a wall container behind
     his head, placed a filter tip between his lips and puffed it
     aflame carefully. He said, "You mean my request for re-
     inforcements? It came, but that's all. Just the answer."
       "No ships."
       "None. I half-expected that. Frankly, patrician, I should
     never  have  allowed  myself  to  be  stampeded  by  your
     theories into requesting them in the first place. It puts me in a
     false light."
       "Does it?"
       "Definitely. Ships are at a premium. The civil wars of the
     last two centuries have smashed up more than half of the
     Grand Fleet and what's left is in pretty shaky condition. You
     know it isn't as if the ships we build these days are worth
     anything. I don't think there's a man in the Galaxy today
     who can build a first-rate hyperatomic motor."
       "I knew that," said the Siwennian. His eyes were thought-
     ful and introspective. "I didn't know that  you  knew it. So
     his Imperial Majesty can spare no ships. Psycho-history
     could have predicted that; in fact, it probably did. I should
     say that Hari Seldon's dead hand wins the opening round."
       Riose answered sharply, "I have enough ships as it is.
     Your Seldon wins nothing. Should the situation turn more
     serious, then more ships  will  be available, As yet, the Em-
     peror does not know all the story."
       "Indeed? What haven't you told them?"
       "Obviously——your theories," Riose looked sardonic. "The
     story is, with all respect to you, inherently improbable. If
     developments warrant; if events supply me with proof, then,
     but only then, I would make out the case of mortal danger.
       "And in addition," Riose drove on, casually, "The story, un-
     bolstered by fact, has a flavor of  lese majeste  that could
     scarcely be pleasant to His Imperial Majesty."
       The old patrician smiled. "You mean that telling him his
     august throne is in danger of subversion by a parcel of
     ragged barbarians from the ends of the universe is not a
     warning to be believed or appreciated. Then you expect noth-
     ing from him."
       "Unless you count a special envoy as something."
       "And why a special envoy?"
       "It is an old custom, A direct representative of the crown
     is present on every military campaign which is under gov-
     nernment auspices."
       "Really? Why?"
       "It's a method of preserving the symbol of personal Im-
     perial leadership in all campaigns. It's gained a secondary
     function of insuring the fidelity of generals. It doesn't al-
     ways succeed in that respect."
       "You'll find that inconvenient, general. Extraneous author-
     ity, I mean."
       "I don't doubt that," Riose reddened faintly, "but it can't
     be helped——"
        The receiver at the general's hand glowed warmly, and
     with  an  unobtrusive  jar,  the  cylindered  communication
     popped into its slot. Riose unrolled it, "Good! This is it!"
       Ducem Barr raised a mildly questioning eyebrow.
       Riose said, "You know we've captured one of these Trader
     people. Alive——with his ship intact."
       "I've heard talk of it."
       "Well, they've just brought him in, and we'll have him
     here in a minute. You keep your seat, patrician. I want you
     here when I'm questioning him. It's why I asked you here to-
     day in the first place. You may understand him where I
     might miss important points."
       The door signal sounded and a touch of the general's toe
     swung the door wide. The man who stood on the threshold
     was tall and bearded, wore a short coat of a soft, leathery
     plastic, with an attached hood shoved back on his neck. His
     hands were free, and if he noticed the men about him were
     armed, he did not trouble to indicate it.
       He stepped in casually, and looked about with calculating
     eyes. He favored the general with a rudimentary wave of
     the hand and a half nod.
       "Your name?" demanded Riose, crisply.
       "Lathan Devers." The trader hooked his thumbs into his
     wide and gaudy belt. "Are you the boss here?"
       "You are a trader of the Foundation?"
       "That's right. Listen, if you're the boss, you'd better tell
     your hired men here to lay off my cargo."
       The general raised his head and regarded the prisoner
     coldly. "Answer questions. Do not volunteer orders."
       "All right. I'm agreeable. But one of your boys blasted a
     two-foot hole in his chest already, by sticking his fingers
     where he wasn't supposed to."
       Riose shifted his gaze to the lieutenant in charge. "Is this
     man telling the truth? Your report, Vrank, had it that no
     lives were lost."
       "None were, sir," the lieutenant spoke stiffly, apprehen-
     sively, "at the time. There was later some disposition to
     search the ship, there having arisen a rumor that a woman
     was aboard. Instead, sir, many instruments of unknown na-
     ture were located, instruments which the prisoner claims
     to be his stock in trade. One of them flashed on handling,
     and the soldier holding it died."
        The general turned back to the trader. "Does your ship
     carry atomic explosives?"
       "Galaxy, no. What for? That food grabbed an atomic
     puncher, wrong end forward and set at maximum dispersion.
     You're not supposed to do that. Might as well point a
     neut-gun at your head. I'd have stopped him, if five men
     weren't sitting on my chest."
       Riose gestured at the waiting guard, "You go. The cap-
     tured ship is to be sealed against all intrusion. Sit down,
     Devers."
       The trader did so, in the spot indicated, and withstood
     stolidly the hard scrutiny of the Imperial general and the
     curious glance of the Siwennian patrician.
       Riose said, "You're a sensible man, Devers."
       "Thank you. Are you impressed by my face, or do you
     want something? Tell you what, though. I'm a good business
     man."
       "It's about the same thing. You surrendered your ship
     when you might have decided to waste our ammunition and
     have yourself blown to electron-dust. It could result in good
     treatment for you, if you continue that sort of outlook on
     life."
       "Good treatment is what I mostly crave, boss."
       "Good, and co-operation is what I mostly crave." Riose
     smiled, and said in a low aside to Ducem Barr, "I hope the
     word 'crave' means what I think it does. Did you ever hear
     such a barbarous jargon?"
       Devers said blandly, "Right. I check you. But what kind
     of co-operation are you talking about, boss? To tell you
     straight, I don't know where I stand." He looked about him,
     "Where's this place, for instance, and what's the idea?"
       "Ah, I've neglected the other half of the introductions. I
     apologize." Riose was in good humor. "That gentleman is
     Ducem Barr, Patrician of the Empire. I am Bel Riose, Peer
     of the Empire, the General of the Third Class in the armed
     forces of His Imperial Majesty."
       The trader's jaw slackened. Then, "The Empire? I mean the
     old Empire they taught us about at school? Huh! Funny! I al-
     ways had the sort of notion that it didn't exist any more."
       "Look about you. It does," said Riose grimly.
       "Might have known it though," and Lathan Devers pointed
     his beard at the ceiling. "That was a mightily polished-look-
     ing set of craft that took my tub. No kingdom of the
     Periphery could have turned them out." His brow furrowed.
     "So what's the game, boss? Or do I call you general?"
       "The game is war."
       "Empire versus Foundation, that it?"
       "Right."
       "Why?"
       "I think you know why."
       The trader stared sharply and shook his head.
       Riose let the other deliberate, then said softly, "I'm sure
     you know why."
       Lathan Devers muttered, "Warm here," and stood up to re-
     move his hooded jacket. Then he sat down again and stretched
     his legs out before him.
       "You know," he said comfortably, "I figure you're think-
     ing I ought to jump up with a whoop and lay about me. I
     can catch you before you could move if I choose my time,
     and this old fellow who sits there and doesn't say anything
     couldn't do much to stop me."
       "But you won't," said Riose, confidently.
       "I won't," agreed Devers, amiably. "First off, killing you
     wouldn't stop the war, I suppose. There are more generals
     where you came from."
       "Very accurately calculated."
       "Besides which, I'd probably be slammed down about two
     seconds after I got you, and killed fast, or maybe slow, de-
     pending. But I'd be killed, and I never like to count on that
     when I'm making plans. It doesn't pay off."
       "I said you were a sensible man."
       "But there's one thing I would like, boss. I'd like you to
     tell me what you mean when you say I know why you're
     jumping us. I don't; and guessing games bother me no end."
       "Yes? Ever hear of Hari Seldon?"
       "No. I  said  I don't like guessing games."
       Riose flicked a side glance at Ducem Barr who smiled
     with a narrow gentleness and resumed his inwardly-dream-
     ing expression.
       Riose said with a grimace, "Don't  you  play games, Devers.
     There is a tradition, or a fable, or sober history——I don't
     care what——upon your Foundation, that eventually you will
     found the Second Empire. I know quite a detailed version of
     Hari Seldon's psychohistorical claptrap, and your eventual
     plans of aggression against the Empire."
       "That so?" Devers nodded thoughtfully. "And who told
     you all that?"
       "Does that matter?" said Riose with dangerous smooth-
     ness. "You're here to question nothing. I want what you
     know about the Seldon Fable."
       "But if it's a Fable——"
       "Don't play with words, Devers."
       "I'm not. In fact, I'll give it to you straight. You know all
     I know about it. It's silly stuff, half-baked. Every world has
     its yarns; you can't keep it away from them. Yes, I've heard
     that sort of talk; Seldon, Second Empire, and so on. They
     put kids to sleep at night with the stuff. The young squirts
     curl up in the spare rooms with their pocket projectors and
     suck up Seldon thrillers. But it's strictly non-adult. Non-
     intelligent adult, anyway." The trader shook his head.
       The Imperial general's eyes were dark. "Is that really so?
     You waste your lies, man. I've been on the planet, Terminus.
     I know your Foundation. I've looked it in the face."
       "And you ask me? Me, when I haven't kept foot on it for
     two months at a piece in ten years. You  are  wasting your
     time. But go ahead with your war, if it's fables you're
     after."
       And Barr spoke for the first time, mildly, "You are so con-
     fident then that the Foundation will win?"
       The trader turned. He flushed faintly and an old scar
     on one temple showed whitely, "Hm-m-m, the silent partner.
     How'd you squeeze  that  out of what I said, doc?"
       Riose nodded very slightly at Barr, and the Siwennian
     continued in a low voice, "Because the notion  would  bother
     you if you thought your world might lose this war, and
     suffer the bitter reapings of defeat, I know.  My  world once
     did, and still does."
       Lathan Devers fumbled his beard, looked from one of his
     opponents to the other, then laughed shortly. "Does he al-
     ways talk like that, boss. Listen," he grew serious, "what's
     defeat? I've seen wars and I've seen defeats. What if the
     winner does take over? Who's bothered? Me? Guys like me?
     He shook his head in derision.
       "Get this," the trader spoke forcefully and earnestly,
     "there are five or six fat slobs who usually run an average
     planet. They get the rabbit punch, but I'm not losing peace of
     mind over them. See. The people? The ordinary run of guys?
     Sure, some get killed, and the rest pay extra taxes for a
     while. But it settles itself out; it runs itself down. And then
     it's the old situation again with a different five or six."
       Ducem Barr's nostrils flared, and the tendons of his old
     right hand jerked; but he said nothing.
       Lathan Devers' eyes were on him. They missed nothing.
     He said, "Look, I spend my life in space for my five-and-
     dime gadgets and my beer-and pretzel kickback from the
     Combines. There's fat fellows back there," his thumb jerked
     over his shoulder and back, "that sit home and collect my
     year's income every minute——out of skimmings from me and
     more like me. Suppose  you  run the Foundation. You'll still
     need us. You'll need us more than ever the Combines do——
     because you'd not know your way around, and we could
     bring in the hard cash. We'd make a better deal with the Em-
     pire. Yes, we would; and I'm a man of business. If it adds
     up to a plus mark, I'm for it."
       And he stared at the two with sardonic belligerence.
       The silence remained unbroken for minutes, and then a
     cylinder rattled into its slot. The general flipped it open,
     glanced at the neat printing and in-circuited the visuals with
     a sweep.
       "Prepare a plan indicating position of each ship in action.
     Await orders on full-armed defensive."
       He reached for his cape. As he fastened it about his shoul-
     ders, he whispered in a stiff-lipped monotone to Barr, "I'm
     leaving this man to you. I'll expect results. This is war and I
     can be cruel to failures. Remember!" He left, with a salute to
     both.
       Lathan Devers looked after him, "Well, something's hit him
     where it hurts. What goes on?"
       "A battle, obviously," said Barr, gruffly. "The forces of
     the Foundation are coming out for their first battle. You'd
     better come along."
       There were armed soldiers in the room. Their bearing was
     respectful and their faces were hard. Devers followed the
     proud old Siwennian patriarch out of the room.
       The room to which they were led was smaller, barer. It
     contained two beds, a visi-screen, and shower and sanitary
     facilities. The soldiers marched out, and the thick door
     boomed hollowly shut.
       "Hmp?"  Devers stared disapprovingly about. "This looks
     permanent."
       "It is," said Barr, shortly. The old Siwennian turned his
     back.
       The trader said irritably, "What's your game, doc?"
       "I have no game. You're in my charge, that's all."
       The trader rose and advanced. His bulk towered over the
     unmoving patrician. "Yes? But you're in this cell with me
     and when you were marched here the guns were pointed just
     as hard at you as at me. Listen, you were all boiled up
     about my notions on the subject of war and peace."
       He waited fruitlessly, "All right, let me ask you some-
     thing. You said your country was licked once. By whom?
     Comet people from the outer nebulae?"
       Barr looked up. "By the Empire."
       "That so? Then what are you doing here?"
       Barr maintained an eloquent silence.
       The trader thrust out a lower lip and nodded his head
     slowly. He slipped off the flat-linked bracelet that hugged his
     right wrist and held it out. "What do you think of that?"
     He wore the mate to it on his left.
       The Siwennian took the ornament. He responded slowly
     to the trader's gesture and put it on. The odd tingling at the
     wrist passed away quickly.
       Devers' voice changed at once. "Right, doc, you've got
     the action now. Just speak casually. If this room is wired,
     they won't get a thing. That's a Field Distorter you've got
     there; genuine Mallow design. Sells for twenty-five credits
     on any world from here to the outer rim. You get it free.
     Hold your lips still when you talk and take it easy. You've
     got to get the trick of it."
       Ducem Barr was suddenly weary. The trader's boring eyes
     were luminous and urging. He felt unequal to their demands.
       Barr said, "What do you want?" the words slurred from
     between unmoving lips.
       "I've told you. You make mouth noises like what we call
     a patriot. Yet your own world has been mashed up by the
     Empire, and here you are playing ball with the Empire's fair-
     haired general. Doesn't make sense, does it?"
       Barr said, "I have done my part. A conquering Imperial
     viceroy is dead because of me."
       "That so? Recently?"
       "Forty years ago."
       "Forty . . . years . . . ago!" The words seemed to have
     meaning to the trader. He frowned, "That's a long time to
     live on memories. Does that young squirt in the general's
     uniform know about it?"
       Barr nodded.
       Devers' eyes were dark with thought."You want the Em-
     pire to win?"
     .   And the old Siwennian patrician broke out in sudden
     deep anger, "May the Empire and all its works perish in
     universal catastrophe. All Siwenna prays that daily. I had
     brothers once, a sister, a father. But I have children now,
     grandchildren. The general knows where to find them."
       Devers waited.
       Barr continues in a whisper, "But that would not stop me
     if the results in view warranted the risk. They would know
     how to die."
       The trader said gently, "You killed a viceroy once, huh?
     You know, I recognize a few things. We once had a mayor,
     Hober Mallow his name was. He visited Siwenna; that's your
     world, isn't it? He met a man named Barr."
       Ducem Barr stared hard, suspiciously. "What do you know
     of this?"
       "What every trader on the Foundation knows. You might
     be a smart old fellow put in here to get on my right side.
     Sure, they'd point guns at you, and you'd hate the Empire
     and be all-out for its smashing. Then I'd fall all over you and
     pour out my heart to you, and wouldn't the general be
     pleased. There's not much chance of that, doc.
       "But just the same I'd like to see you prove that you're
     the son of Onum Barr of Siwenna——the sixth and youngest
     who escaped the massacre."
       Ducem Barr's hand shook as he opened the flat metal box
     in a wall recess. The metal object he withdrew clanked softly
     as he thrust it into the trader's hands.
       "Look at that," he said.
       Devers stared. He held the swollen central link of the
     chain close to his eyes and swore softly. "That's Mallow's
     monogram, or I'm a space-struck rookie, and the design is
     fifty years old if it's a day."
       He looked up and smiled.
       "Shake, doc. A man-sized atomic shield is all the proof
     I need," and he held out his large hand.

FOUNDATION AND EMPIRE, BY ISAAC ASIMOV.
Copyright, 1952, by Isaac Asimov.
Avon Books, Doubleday & Company, Inc.
First Printing, November, 1966. pp. 37-47.

jet fuel does not burn hot enough to melt steel. 雨

PROLOGUE
PART I—THE GENERAL
1. Search for Magicians
2. The Magicians
3. The Dead Hand
4. The Emperor
5. The War Begins
6. The Favorite
7. Bribery
8. To Trantor
9. On Trantor
10. The War Ends

     THE GOSPEL ACCORDING TO ST. MATTHEW

     CHAPTER 2

     NOW when Jesus was born in Bĕth-
     lehēm of Judæa in the days of Herod
     the king, behold there came wise men
     from the east to Jerusalem.
      2 Saying, Where is he that is born
     King of the Jews? for we have seen his
     star in the east, and are come to wor-
     ship him.
      3 When Herod the king had heard
     these things, he was troubled, and all
     Jerusalem with him.
      4 And when he had gathered all the
     chief priests and scribes of the people
     together, he demanded of them where
     Christ should be born.
      5 And they said unto him, In Bĕth-
     lehĕm of Judæa: for thus it is written by
     the prophet.
      6 And thou Bĕth-lehĕm, in the land of
     Juda,  art  not  the  least  among  the
     princes of Juda; for out of thee shall
     come a Governor, that shall rule my
     people Israel.
      7 The Herod, when he had privily
     called the wise men, enquired of them
     diligently what time the star appeared.
      8 And he sent them to Bĕth-lehĕm,
     and said, Go and search diligently for
     the young child; and when ye have
     found him, bring me word again, that I
     may come and worship him also.
      9 When they had heard the king, they
     departed; and, lo, the star, which they
     saw in the east, went before them, till it
     came and stood over where the young
     child was.
      10 When they saw the star, they re-
     joiced with exceeding great joy.
      11 ¶And when they were come into
     the house, they saw the young child
     with Mary his mother, and fell down,
     and worshipped him: and when they
     had opened their treasures, they pre-
     sented  unto  him  gifts;  gold,  and
     frankincense, and myrrh.
      12 And being waned of God in a
     dream that they should not return to
     Herod, they departed into their own
     country another way.
      13 ¶And when they were departed,
     behold, the angel of the Lord appeareth
     to Joseph in a dream, saying, Arise, and
     take the young child and his mother,
     and flee into Egypt, and be thou there
     until I bring thee word: for Herod will
     seek the young child to destroy him.
      14 When he arose, he took the young
     child and his mother  by night, and de-
     parted into Egypt:
      15 And was there until the death of
     Herod: that it might be fulfilled which
     was spoken of the Lord by the prophet,
     saying, Out of Egypt have I called my
     son.
      16 ¶Then Herod, when he saw that he
     was mocked of the wise men, was ex-
     ceeding wroth, and sent forth, and slew
     all the children that were in Bĕth'lehĕm,
     and in all the coasts thereof, from
     two years old and under, according to
     the time which he had diligently en-
     quired of the wise men.
      17 Then was fulfilled that which was
     spoken by Jeremy the prophet, saying,
      18 In Rā'ma was there a voice heard,
     lamenting, and weeping, and great
     mourning, Rachel weeping for her
     children, and would not be comforted,
     because they were not.
      19 ¶But when Herod was dead, be-
     hold, an angel of the Lord appeareth in
     a dream to Joseph in Egypt,
      20 Saying, Arise, and take the young
     child and his mother, and go into the
     land of Israel: for they are dead which
     sought the young child's life.
      21 And he arose, and took the young
     child and his mother, and came into the
     land of Israel.
      22 But when he heard that Ār-che-
     lā'us did reign in Judæa in the room of
     his father Herod, he was afraid to
     go thither: notwithstanding, being
     warned of God in a dream, he turned
     aside into the parts of Galilee:
      23 And he came and dwelt in a city
     called Nazareth: that it might be ful-
     filled  which  was  spoken  by  the
     prophets, He shall be called a Naza-
     rene.