Foundation - By Isaac Asimov Page 0,32

if there was a new emperor at all or any Empire. Space! For thirty years now, since the breakup of communications here at the edge of the Galaxy, the whole universe of Terminus had consisted of itself and the four surrounding kingdoms.

How the mighty had fallen! Kingdoms! They were prefects in the old days, all part of the same province, which in turn had been part of a sector, which in turn had been part of a quadrant, which in turn had been part of the allembracing Galactic Empire. And now that the Empire had lost control over the farther reaches of the Galaxy, these little splinter groups of planets became kingdoms with comic-opera kings and nobles, and petty, meaningless wars, and a life that went on pathetically among the ruins.

A civilization falling. Nuclear power forgotten. Science fading to mythology until the Foundation had stepped in. The Foundation that Hari Seldon had established for just that purpose here on Terminus.

Lee was at the window and his voice broke in on Hardin's reverie. "They've come," he said, "in a late-model ground car, the young pups." He took a few uncertain steps toward the door and then looked at Hardin.

Hardin smiled, and waved him back. "I've given orders to have them brought up here."

"Here! What for? You're making them too important."

"Why go through all the ceremonies of an official mayor's audience? I'm getting too old for red tape. Besides which, flattery is useful when dealing with youngsters particularly when it doesn't commit you to anything." He winked. "Sit down, Lee, and give me your moral backing. I'll need it with this young Sermak."

"That fellow, Sermak," said Lee, heavily, "is dangerous. He's got a following, Hardin, so don't underestimate him."

"Have I ever underestimated anybody?"

"Well, then, arrest him. You can accuse him of something or other afterward."

Hardin ignored that last bit of advice. "There they are, Lee." In response to the signal, he stepped on the pedal beneath his desk, and the door slid aside.

They filed in, the four that composed the deputation, and Hardin waved them gently to the armchairs that faced his desk in a semicircle. They bowed and waited for the mayor to speak first.

Hardin flicked open the curiously carved silver lid of the cigar box that had once belonged to Jord Fara of the old Board of Trustees in the long-dead days of the Encyclopedists. It was a genuine Empire product from Santanni, though the cigars it now contained were home-grown. One by one, with grave solemnity, the four of the deputation accepted cigars and lit up in ritualistic fashion.

Sef Sermak was second from the right, the youngest of the young group and the most interesting with his bristly yellow mustache trimmed precisely, and his sunken eyes of uncertain color. The other three Hardin dismissed almost immediately; they were rank and file on the face of them. It was on Sermak that he concentrated, the Sermak who had already, in his first term in the City Council, turned that sedate body topsy-turvy more than once, and it was to Sermak that he said:

"I've been particularly anxious to see you, Councilman, ever since your very excellent speech last month. Your attack on the foreign policy of this government was a most capable one."

Sermak's eyes smoldered. "Your interest honors me. The attack may or may not have been capable, but it was certainly justified."

"Perhaps! Your opinions are yours, of course. Still you are rather young."

Dryly. "It is a fault that most people are guilty of at some period of their life. You became mayor of the city when you were two years younger than I am now."

Hardin smiled to himself. The yearling was a cool customer. He said, "I take it now that you have come to see me concerning this same foreign policy that annoys you so greatly in the Council Chamber. Are you speaking for your three colleagues, or must I listen to each of you separately?" There were quick mutual glances among the four young men, a slight flickering of eyelids.

Sermak said grimly, "I speak for the people of Terminus a people who are not now truly represented in the rubberstamp body they call the Council."

"I see. Go ahead, then!"

"It comes to this, Mr. Mayor. We are dissatisfied"

"By 'we' you mean 'the people,' don't you?"

Sermak stared hostilely, sensing a trap, and replied coldly, "I believe that my views reflect those of the majority of the voters of Terminus. Does that suit you?"

"Well, a