Isaac Asimov: Forward the Foundation

“Grandfather, I hope everything’s all right,” said Wanda, her fear revealed by her voice.

“Don’t worry, dear. After all, they must be safe if Raych was able to send us a message.”

In Seldon’s office, he and Wanda stood before the holoscreen as it activated. Seldon punched a code on the keypad alongside the screen and they waited a few seconds for the intragalactic connection to be established. Slowly the screen seemed to stretch back into the wall, as if it were the entrance to a tunnel—and out of the tunnel, dimly at first, came the familiar figure of a stocky powerfully built man. As the connection sharpened, the man’s features became clearer. When Seldon and Wanda were able to make out Raych’s bushy Dahlite mustache, the figure sprang to life.

“Dad! Wanda!” said Raych’s three-dimensional hologram, projected to Trantor from Santanni. “Listen, I don’t have much time.” He flinched, as if startled by a loud noise. “Things have gotten pretty bad here. The government has fallen and a provisional party has taken over. Things are a mess, as you can imagine. I just put Manella and Bellis on a hypership to Anacreon. I told them to get in touch with you from there. The name of the ship is the Arcadia VII .

“You should have seen Manella, Dad. Mad as anything that she had to go. The only way I was able to convince her to leave was to point out that it was for Bellis’s sake.

“I know what you’re thinking, Dad and Wanda. Of course I would have gone with them—if I could have. But there wasn’t enough room. You should’ve seen what I had to go through just to get them onto the ship.” Raych flashed one of his lopsided grins that Seldon and Wanda loved so much, then continued. “Besides, since I’m here, I have to help guard the University—we may be part of the Imperial University system, but we’re a place of learning and building, not of destruction. I tell you, if one of those hot-headed Santanni rebels comes near our stuff—”

“Raych,” Hari broke in, “How bad is it? Are you close to the fighting?”

“Dad, are you in danger?” asked Wanda.

They waited a few seconds for their message to travel the nine thousand parsecs across the Galaxy to Raych.

“I—I—I couldn’t quite make out what you said,” the hologram replied. “There’s a bit of fighting going on. It’s sort of exciting, actually,” Raych said, breaking into that grin again. “So I’m going to sign off now. Remember, find out what happened to the Arcadia VII going to Anacreon. I’ll be back in touch as soon as I’m able. Remember, I—” The transmission broke off and the hologram faded. The holoscreen tunnel collapsed in on itself so that Seldon and Wanda were left staring at a blank wall.

“Grandpa,” said Wanda, “what do you think he was going to say?”

“I have no idea, dear. But there is one thing I do know and that is that your father can take care of himself. I pity any rebel who gets near enough for a well-placed Twist-kick from your dad! —Come, let’s get back to that equation and in a few hours we’ll check on the Arcadia VII .”

“Commander, have you no idea what happened to the ship?” Hari Seldon was again engaged in intragalactic conversation, but this time it was with an Imperial navy commander stationed at Anacreon. For this communication, Seldon was making use of the visiscreen—much less realistic than the holoscreen but also much simpler.

“I’m telling you, Professor, that we have no record of that hypership requesting permission to enter the Anacreonic atmosphere. Of course, communications with Santanni have been broken for several hours and sporadic at best for the last week. It is possible that the ship tried to reach us on a Santanni-based channel and could not get through, but I doubt it.

“No, it’s more likely that the Arcadia VII changed destination. Voreg, perhaps, or Sarip. Have you tried either of those worlds, Professor?”

“No,” said Seldon wearily, “but I see no reason if the ship was bound for Anacreon that it would not go to Anacreon. Commander, it is vital that I locate that ship.”

“Of course,” the commander ventured, “the Arcadia VII might not have made it. Out safely, I mean. There’s a lot of fighting going on. Those rebels don’t care who they blow up. They just train their lasers and pretend it’s the Emperor Agis they’re blasting. I tell you, it’s a whole different game out here on the fringe, Professor.”

“My daughter-in-law and granddaughter are on that ship, Commander,” Seldon said in a tight voice.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Professor,” said an abashed commander. “I’ll be in touch with you as soon as I hear anything.”

Dispiritedly Hari closed the visiscreen contact. How tired I am, he thought. And, he mused, I’m not surprised—I’ve known that this would come for nearly forty years.

Seldon chuckled bitterly to himself. Perhaps that commander had thought he was shocking Seldon, impressing him with the vivid detail of life “on the fringe.” But Seldon knew all about the fringe. And as the fringe came apart, like a piece of knitting with one loose thread, the whole piece would unravel to the core: Trantor.

Seldon became aware of a soft buzzing sound. It was the door signal. “Yes?”

“Grandpa,” said Wanda, entering the office, “I’m scared.”

“Why, dear?” asked Seldon with concern. He didn’t want to tell her yet what he had learned—or hadn’t learned—from the commander on Anacreon.

“Usually, although they’re so far away, I feel Dad and Mom and Bellis—feel them in here”—she pointed to her head—“and in here”—she placed her hand over her heart. “But now, today, I don’t feel them—it feels less, as if they’re fading, like one of the dome bulbs. And I want to stop it. I want to pull them back, but I can’t.”

“Wanda, I really think this is merely a product of your concern for your family in light of the rebellion. You know that uprisings occur all over the Empire all the time—little eruptions to let off steam. Come now, you know that chances of anything happening to Raych, Manella, or Bellis are vanishingly small. Your dad will call any day to say all is well; your mom and Bellis will land on Anacreon at any moment and enjoy a little vacation. We are the ones to be pitied—we’re stuck here up to our ears in work! So, sweetheart, go to bed and think only good thoughts. I promise you, tomorrow, under the sunny dome, things will look much better.”

“All right, Grandpa,” said Wanda, not sounding entirely convinced. “But tomorrow—if we haven’t heard by tomorrow—we’ll have to—to—”

“Wanda, what can we do, except wait?” asked Hari, his voice gentle.

Wanda turned and left, the weight of her worries showing in the slope of her shoulders. Hari watched her go, finally allowing his own worries to come to the surface.

It had been three days since the hologram transmission from Raych. Since then—nothing. And today the naval commander at Anacreon denied ever having heard of a ship called Arcadia VII .

Hari had tried earlier to get through to Raych on Santanni, but all communication beams were down. It was as if Santanni—and the Arcadia VII —had simply broken off from the Empire, like a petal from a flower.

Seldon knew what he had to do now. The Empire might be down, but it was not out. Its power, when properly wielded, was still awesome. Seldon placed an emergency transmission to Emperor Agis XIV.

“What a surprise—my friend Hari!” Agis’s visage beamed at Seldon through the holoscreen. “I am glad to hear from you, although you usually request the more formal personal audience. Come, you’ve piqued my interest. Why the urgency?”