Foundation's Edge - Isaac Asimov [141]
Gendibal had had to use a tether three times before. This was his fourth use and even if he had felt tension over the matter, it would have disappeared in his concern for Sura Novi. He needed no mentalics to see that stepping into nothingness had totally upset her.
"I be afeared, Master," she said when he explained what would have to be done. "It be naughtness into which I will make footstep." If nothing else, her sudden descent into thick Hamish dialect showed the extent of her disturbance.
Gendibal said gently, "I cannot leave you on board this ship, Novi, for I will be going into the other and I must have you with me. There is no danger, for your space suit will protect you from all harm and there is no place for you to fall to. Even if you lose your grip on the tether, you will remain nearly where you are and I will be within arm's reach so that I can gather you in. Come, Novi, show me that you are brave enough--as well as bright enough--to become a scholar."
She made no further objection and Gendibal, unwilling to do anything that might disturb the smoothness of her mind-set, nevertheless managed to inject a soothing touch upon the surface of her mind.
"You can still speak to me," he said, after they were each enclosed in a space suit. "I can hear you if you think hard. Think the words hard and clearly, one by one. You can hear me now, can't you?"
"Yes, Master," she said.
He could see her lips move through the transparent face-plate and he said, "Say it without moving your lips, Novi. There is no radio in the kind of suits that scholars have. It is all done with the mind."
Her lips did not move and her look grew more anxious: Can you hear me, Master?
Perfectly well, thought Gendibal--and his lips did not move either: Do you hear me?
I do, Master.
Then come with me and do as I do.
They moved across. Gendibal knew the theory of it, even if he could handle the practice only moderately well. The trick was to keep one's legs extended and together and to swing them from the hips alone. That kept the center of gravity moving in a straight line as the arms swung forward in steady alternation. He had explained this to Sura Novi and, without turning to look at her, he studied the stance of her body from the set of the motor areas of her brain.
For a first-timer, she did very well, almost as well as Gendibal was managing to do. She repressed her own tensions and she followed directions. Gendibal found himself, once again, very pleased with her.
She was, however, clearly glad to be on board ship again--and so was Gendibal. He looked about as he removed his space suit and was rather dumbfounded at the luxury and style of the equipment. He recognized almost nothing and his heart sank at the thought that he might have very little time to learn how to handle it all. He might have to transfer expertise directly from the man already on board, something that was never quite as satisfactory as true learning.
Then he concentrated on Compor. Compor was tall and lean, a few years older than himself, rather handsome in a slightly weak way, with tightly waved hair of a startling buttery yellow.
And it was clear to Gendibal that this person was disappointed in, and even contemptuous of, the Speaker he was now meeting for the first time. What was more, he was entirely unsuccessful in hiding the fact.
Gendibal did not mind such things, on the whole. Compor was not a Trantorian--nor a full Second Foundationer--and he clearly had his illusions. Even the most superficial scan of his mind showed that. Among these was the illusion that true power was necessarily related to the appearance of power. He might, of course, keep his illusions as long as they did not interfere with what Gendibal needed, but at the present moment, this particular illusion did so interfere.