Second Foundation - Isaac Asimov [31]
“It is myself that bears the responsibility for having missed all that, for I was the leader of the Second Foundation when you captured Kalgan. When you destroyed the First Foundation, we found out—but too late—and for that fault millions have died on Tazenda.”
“And you will correct things now?” The Mule’s thin lips curled, his mind pulsing with hate: “What will you do? Fatten me? Restore me to a masculine vigor? Take away from my past the long childhood in an alien environment? Do you regret my sufferings? Do you regret my unhappiness? I have no sorrow for what I did in my necessity. Let the Galaxy protect itself as best it can, since it stirred not a whit for my protection when I needed it.”
“Your emotions are, of course,” said the First Speaker, “only the children of your background and are not to be condemned—merely changed. The destruction of Tazenda was unavoidable. The alternative would have been a much greater destruction generally throughout the Galaxy over a period of centuries. We did our best in our limited way. We withdrew as many men from Tazenda as we could. We decentralized the rest of the world. Unfortunately, our measures were of necessity far from adequate. It left many millions to die—do you not regret that?”
“Not at all—any more than I regret the hundred thousand that must die on Rossem in not more than six hours.”
“On Rossem?” said the First Speaker, quickly.
He turned to Channis, who had forced himself into a half-sitting posture, and his mind exerted its force. Channis felt the duel of minds strain over him, and then there was a short snapping of the bond and the words came tumbling out of his mouth: “Sir, I have failed completely. He forced it from me not ten minutes before your arrival. I could not resist him and I offer no excuses. He knows Tazenda is not the Second Foundation. He knows that Rossem is.”
And the bonds closed down upon him again.
The First Speaker frowned: “I see. What is it you are planning to do?”
“Do you really wonder? Do you really find it difficult to penetrate the obvious? All this time that you have preached to me of the nature of emotional contact—all this time that you have been throwing words such as megalomania and paranoia at me, I have been working. I have been in contact with my Fleet and it has its orders. In six hours, unless I should for some reason counteract my orders, they are to bombard all of Rossem except this lone village and an area of a hundred square miles about it. They are to do a thorough job and are then to land here.
“You have six hours, and in six hours, you cannot beat down my mind, nor can you save the rest of Rossem.”
The Mule spread his hands and laughed again while the First Speaker seemed to find difficulty in absorbing this new state of affairs.
He said: “The alternative?”
“Why should there even be an alternative? I can stand to gain no more by any alternative. Is it the lives of those on Rossem I’m to be chary of? Perhaps if you allow my ships to land and submit, all of you—all the men on the Second Foundation—to mental control sufficient to suit myself, I may countermand the bombardment orders. It may be worthwhile to put so many men of high intelligence under my control. But then again it would be a considerable effort and perhaps not worth it after all, so I’m not particularly eager to have you agree to it. What do you say, Second Foundationer? What weapon have you against my mind which is as strong as yours at least and against my ships which are stronger than anything you have ever dreamed of possessing?”
“What have I?” repeated the First Speaker, slowly: “Why nothing—except a little grain—such a little grain of knowledge that even yet you do not possess.”
“Speak quickly,” laughed the Mule, “speak inventively. For squirm as you might, you won’t squirm out of this.”
“Poor mutant,” said the First Speaker, “I have nothing to squirm out of. Ask yourself—why was Bail Channis sent to Kalgan as a decoy—Bail Channis, who though young and