Second Foundation

"Ain't much to tell," Leemor shuffled his feet and allowed a faint, bashful smile to cover his face, as though he could see all the millions that undoubtedly could see him at the moment. I’m a Locrian. Got a job in an air-car factory; section head and good pay. I'm married; got two kids, both girls. Say, I couldn't say hello to them, could I - in case they're listening."

"Go ahead, sailor. The video is all yours."

"Gosh, thanks." He burbled, "Hello, Milla, in case you're listening, I'm fine. Is Sunni all right? And Tomma? I think of you all the time and maybe I'll be back on furlough after we get back to port. I got your food parcel but I'm sending it back. We get our regular mess, but they say the civilians are a little tight. I guess that's all."

"I'll look her up next time I'm on Locris, sailor, and make sure she's not short of food. O.K.?"

The young man smiled broadly and nodded his head. "Thank you, Mr. Turbor. I’d appreciate that."

"All right. Suppose you tell us, then - You're a volunteer, aren't you?"

"Sure am. If anyone picks a fight with me, I don't have to wait for anyone to drag me in. I joined up the day I heard about the Hober Mallow."

"That's a fine spirit. Have you seen much action? I notice "You're wearing two battle stars."

"Ptah." The sailor spat. "Those weren't battles, they were chases. The Kalganians don't fight, unless they have odds of five to one or better in their favor. Even then they just edge in and try to cut us up ship by ship. Cousin of mine was at Ifni and he was on a ship that got away, the old Ebling Mis. He says it was the same there. They had their Main Fleet against just a wing division of ours, and down to where we only had five ships left, they kept stalking instead of fighting. We got twice as many of their ships at that fight."

"Then you think we're going to win the war?"

"Sure bet; now that we aren't retreating. Even if things got too bad, that's when I'd expect the Second Foundation to step in. We still got the Seldon Plan - and they know it, too."

Turbor's lips curled a bit. "You're counting on the Second Foundation, then?"

The answer came with honest surprise. "Well, doesn't everyone?"

Junior Officer Tippellum stepped into Turbor's room after the visicast. He shoved a cigarette at the correspondent and knocked his cap back to a perilous balance on the occiput.

"We picked up a prisoner," he said.

"Yes?"

"Little crazy fellow. Claims to be a neutral - diplomatic immunity, no less. I don't think they know what to do with him. His name's Palvro, Palver, something like that, and he says he's from Trantor. Don't know what in space he's doing in a war zone."

But Turbor had swung to a sitting position on his bunk and the nap he had been about to take was forgotten. He remembered quite well his last interview with Darell, the day after war had been declared and he was shoving off.

"Preem Palver," he said. It was a statement.

Tippellum paused and let the smoke trickle out the sides of his mouth. "Yeah," he said, "how in space did you know?"

"Never mind. Can I see him?"

"Space, I can't say. The old man has him in his own room for questioning. Everyone figures he's a spy."

"You tell the old man that I know him, if he's who he claims he is. I’II take the responsibility."

Captain Dixyl on the flagship of the Third Fleet watched unremittingly at the Grand Detector. No ship could avoid being a source of subatomic radiation - not even if it were lying an inert mass - and each focal point of such radiation was a little sparkle in the three-dimensional field.

Each one of the Foundation's ships were accounted for and no sparkle was left over, now that the little spy who claimed to be a neutral had been picked up. For a while, that outside ship had created a stir in the captain's quarters. The tactics might have needed changing on short notice. As it was-

"Are you sure you have it?" he asked.

Commander Cenn nodded. "I will take my squadron through hyperspace: radius, 10.00 parsecs; theta, 268.52 degrees; phi, 84.15 degrees. Return to origin at 1330. Total absence 11.83 hours."

"Right. Now we are going to count on pin-point return as regards both space and time. Understand?"

"Yes, captain." He looked at his wrist watch, "My ships will be ready by 0140."

"Good," said Captain Dixyl.

The Kalganian squadron was not within detector range now, but they would be soon. There was independent information to that effect. Without Cenn's squadron the Foundation forces would be badly outnumbered, but the captain was quite confident. Quite confident.

Preem Palver looked sadly about him. First at the tall, skinny admiral; then at the others, everyone in uniform; and now at this last one, big and stout, with his collar open and no tie - not like the rest - who said he wanted to speak to him.