Trevize said, “I do not know that I have free will, Mayor. My mind may have been subtly dealt with, so that I will give the answer that is desired.”

Novi said, “Your mind is totally untouched. If we could bring ourselves to adjust you to suit our purposes, this whole meeting would be unnecessary. Were we that unprincipled, we could have proceeded with what we would find most pleasing to ourselves with no concern for the greater needs and good of humanity as a whole.”

Gendibal said, “I believe it is my turn to speak. Councilman Trevize, do not be guided by narrow parochialism. The fact that you are Terminus-born should not lead you to believe that Terminus comes before the Galaxy. For five centuries now, the Galaxy has been operating in accordance with the Seldon Plan. In and out of the Foundation Federation, that operation has been proceeding.

“You are, and have been, part of the Seldon Plan above and beyond your lesser role as Foundationer. Do not do anything to disrupt the Plan, either on behalf of a narrow concept of patriotism or out of a romantic longing for the new and untried. The Second Foundationers will in no way hamper the free will of humanity. We are guides, not despots.

“And we offer a Second Galactic Empire fundamentally different from the First. Throughout human history, no decade in all the tens of thousands of years during which hyperspatial travel has existed has been completely free of bloodshed and violent death throughout the Galaxy, even in those periods when the Foundation itself was at peace. Choose Mayor Branno and that will continue endlessly into the future. The same dreary, deadly round. The Seldon Plan offers release from that at last—and not at the price of becoming one more atom in a Galaxy of atoms, being reduced to equality with grass, bacteria, and dust.”

Novi said, “What Speaker Gendibal says of the First Foundation's Second Empire, I agree with. What he says of his own, I do not. The Speakers of Trantor are, after all, independent free-will human beings and are the same as they have always been. Are they free of destructive competition, of politics, of clawing upward at all costs? Are there no quarrels and even hatreds at the Speaker's Table —and will they always be guides you dare follow? Put Speaker Gendibal on his honor and ask him this.”

“No need to put me on my honor,” said Gendibal. “I freely admit we have our hatreds, competitions, and betrayals at the Table. But once a decision is reached, it is obeyed by all. There has never been an exception to this.”

Trevize said, “What if I will not make a choice?”

“You must,” said Novi. “You will know that it is right to do so and you will therefore make a choice.”

“What if I try to make a choice and cannot?”

“You must.”

Trevize said, “How much time do I have?”

Novi said, “Until you are sure, however much time that takes.”

Trevize sat silently.

Though the others were silent too, it seemed to Trevize that he could hear the pulsing of his bloodstream.

He could hear Mayor Branno's voice say firmly, “Free will!” Speaker Gendibal's voice said peremptorily, “Guidance and peace!”

Novi's voice said wistfully, “Life.”

Trevize turned and found Pelorat looking at him intently. He said, “Janov. Have you heard all this?”

“Yes, I have, Golan.”

“What do you think?”

“The decision is not mine.”

“I know that. But what do you think.”

“I don't know. I am frightened by all three alternatives. And yet a peculiar thought comes to me…”

“Yes?”

“When we first went out into space, you showed me the Galaxy. Do you remember?”

“Of course.”

“You speeded time and the Galaxy rotated visibly. And I said, as though anticipating this very time, 'The Galaxy looks like a living thing, crawling through space. ' Do you think that, in a way, it is alive already?”

And Trevize, remembering that moment, was suddenly sure. He remembered suddenly his feeling that Pelorat, too, would have a vital role to play. He turned in haste, anxious not to have time to think, to doubt, to grow uncertain.

He placed his hands on the terminals and thought with an intensity he had never known before.

He had made his decision—the decision on which the fate of the Galaxy hung.

CHAPTER TWENTY.

CONCLUSION

Mayor Harla Branno had every reason for satisfaction. The state visit had not lasted long, but it had been thoroughly productive.

She said, as though in deliberate attempt to avoid hubris, “We can't, of course, trust them completely.”

She was watching the screen. The ships of the Fleet were, one by one, entering hyperspace and returning to their normal stations.

There was no question but that Sayshell had been impressed by their presence, but they could not have failed to notice two things:

one, that the ships had remained in Foundation space at all times; two, that once Branno had indicated they would leave, they were indeed leaving with celerity.

On the other hand, Sayshell would not forget either that those ships could be recalled to the border at a day's notice—or less. It was a maneuver that had combined both a demonstration of power and a demonstration of goodwill.

Kodell said, “Quite right, we can't trust them completely, but then no one in the Galaxy can be trusted completely and it is in the self-interest of Sayshell to observe the terms of the agreement. We have been generous.”

Branno said, “A lot will depend on working out the details and I predict that will take months. The general brushstrokes can be accepted in a moment, but then come the shadings: just how we arrange for quarantine of imports and exports, how we weigh the value of their grain and cattle compared to ours, and so on.”

“I know, but it will be done eventually and the credit will be yours, Mayor. It was a bold stroke and one, I admit, whose wisdom I doubted.”

“Come, Liono. It was just a matter of the Foundation recognizing Sayshellian pride. They've retained a certain independence since early Imperial times. It's to be admired, actually.”

“Yes, now that it will no longer inconvenience us.”

“Exactly, so it was only necessary to bend our own pride to the point of making some sort of gesture to theirs. I admit it took an effort to decide that I, as Mayor of a Galaxy-straddling Federation, should condescend to visit a provincial star-grouping, but once the decision was made it didn't hurt too much. And it pleased them. We had to gamble that they would agree to the visit once we moved our ships to the border, but it meant being humble and smiling very broadly.”

Kodell nodded. “We abandoned the appearance of power to preserve the essence of it.”

“Exactly.—Who first said that?”

“I believe it was in one of Eriden's plays, but I'm not sure. We can ask one of our literary lights back home.”

“If I remember. We must speed the return visit of Sayshellians to Terminus and see to it that they are given the full treatment as equals. And I'm afraid, Liono, you will have to organize tight security for them. There is bound to be some indignation among our hotheads and it would not be wise to subject them to even slight and transient humiliation through protest demonstrations.”

“Absolutely,” said Kodell. “It was a clever stroke, by the way, sending out Trevize.”

“My lightning rod? He worked better than I thought he would, to be honest. He blundered his way into Sayshell and drew their lightning in the form of protests with a speed I could not have believed. Space! What an excellent excuse that made for my visit—concern lest a Foundation national in any way disturbed then and gratitude for their forbearance.”

“Shrewd!—You don't think it would have been better, though, to have brought Trevize back with us?”