Prelude to Foundation - Isaac Asimov [151]
"No!" shrieked Raych, breaking loose and rushing at Astinwald. "Don't call!"
Russ leveled his neuronic whip and fired.
Raych shrieked, grasped at his right shoulder, and fell down, wriggling madly.
Russ had not yet turned back to Seldon, when the latter, seizing him by the wrist, pushed the neuronic whip up in the air and then around and behind, while stamping on his foot to keep him relatively motionless. Hari could feel the shoulder dislocate, even while Russ emitted a hoarse, agonized yell.
Astinwald raised his blaster quickly, but Dors's left arm was around his shoulder and the knife in her right hand was at his throat.
"Don't move!" she said. "Move a millimeter, any part of you, and I cut you through your neck to the spine. -Drop the blaster. Drop it! And the neuronic whip."
Seldon picked up Raych, still moaning, and held him tightly. He turned to Tisalver and said, "There are people out there. Angry people. I'll have them in here and they'll break up everything you've got. They'll smash the walls. If you don't want that to happen, pick up those weapons and throw them into the next room. Take the weapons from the security officer on the door and do the same. Quickly! Get your wife to help. She'll think twice next time before sending in complaints against innocent people. -Dors, this one on the floor won't do anything for a while. Put the other one out of action, but don't kill him."
"Right," said Dors. Reversing her knife, she struck him hard on the skull with the haft. He went to his knees.
She made a face. "I hate doing that."
"They fired at Raych," said Seldon, trying to mask his own sick feeling at what had happened.
They left the apartment hurriedly and, once out on the walkway, found it choked with people, almost all men, who raised a shout when they saw them emerge. They pushed in close and the smell of poorly washed humanity was overpowering.
Someone shouted, "Where are the Sunbadgers?"
"Inside," called out Dors piercingly. "Leave them alone. They'll be helpless for a while, but they'll get reinforcements, so get out of here fast"
"What about you?" came from a dozen throats.
"We're getting out too. We won't be back."
"I'll take care of them," shrilled Raych, struggling out of Seldon's arms and standing on his feet. He was rubbing his right shoulder madly. "I can walk. Lemme past."
The crowd opened for him and he said, "Mister, lady, come with me. Fast!"
They were accompanied down the walkway by several dozen men and then Raych suddenly gestured at an opening and muttered, "In here, folks. I'll rake ya to a place no one will ever find ya. Even Davan prob'ly don't know it. Only thing is, we got to go through the sewer levels. No one will see us there, but it's sort of stinky . . . know what I mean?"
"I imagine we'll survive," muttered Seldon.
And down they went along a narrow spiraling ramp and up rose the mephitic odors to greet them.
80.
Raych found them a hiding place. It had meant climbing up the metal rungs of a ladder and it had led them to a large loftlike room, the use of which Seldon could not imagine. It was filled with equipment, bulky and silent, the function of which also remained a mystery. The room was reasonably clean and free of dust and a steady draft of air wafted through that prevented the dust from settling and-more important seemed to lessen the odor.
Raych seemed pleased. "Ain't this nice?" he demanded. He still rubbed his shoulder now and then and winced when he rubbed too hard.
"It could be worse," said Seldon. "Do you know what this place is used for, Raych?"
Raych shrugged or began to do so and winced. "I dunno," he said. Then he added with a touch of swagger, "Who cares?"
Dors, who had sat down on the floor after brushing it with her hand and then looking suspiciously at her palm, said, "If you want a guess, I think this is part of a complex that is involved in the detoxification and recycling of wastes. The stuff must surely end up as fertilizer."
"Then," said Seldon gloomily,