"What," demanded Jaim Orsy, suddenly, "does Verisof do? There was a day when he was an advanced Actionist. What's he doing there? Is he blind, too?"
"I don't know," said Bort, curtly. "He's high priest to them. As far as I know, he does nothing but act as adviser to the priesthood on technical details. Figurehead, blast him, figurehead!"
There was silence all round and all eyes turned to Sermak. The young party leader was biting a fingernail nervously, and then said loudly, "No good. It's fishy!"
He looked around him, and added more energetically, "Is Hardin then such a fool?"
"Seems to be," shrugged Bort.
"Never! There's something wrong. To cut our own throats so thoroughly and so hopelessly would require colossal stupidity. More than Hardin could possibly have even if he were a fool, which I deny. On the one hand, to establish a religion that would wipe out all chance of internal troubles. On the other hand, to arm Anacreon with all weapons of warfare. I don't see it."
"The matter is a little obscure, I admit," said Bort, "but the facts are there. What else can we think?"
Walto said, jerkily, "Outright treason. He's in their pay."
But Sermak shook his head impatiently. "I don't see that, either. The whole affair is as insane and meaningless Tell me, Bort, have you heard anything about a battle cruiser that the Foundation is supposed to have put into shape for use in the Anacreon navy?"
"Battle cruiser?"
"An old Imperial cruiser"
"No, I haven't. But that doesn't mean much. The navy yards are religious sanctuaries completely inviolate on the part of the lay public. No one ever hears anything about the fleet.
"Well, rumors have leaked out. Some of the Party have brought the matter up in Council. Hardin never denied it, you know. His spokesmen denounced rumor mongers and let it go at that. It might have significance."
"It's of a piece with the rest," said Bort. "if true, it's absolutely crazy. But it wouldn't be worse than the rest."
"I suppose," said Orsy, "Hardin hasn't any secret weapon waiting. That might"
"Yes," said Sermak, viciously, "a huge jack-in-the-box that will jump out at the psychological moment and scare old Wienis into fits. The Foundation may as well blow itself out of existence and save itself the agony of suspense if it has to depend on any secret weapon."
"Well," said Orsy, changing the subject hurriedly, "the question comes down to this: How much time have we left? Eli, Bort?"
"All fight. It is the question. But don't look at me; I don't know. The Anacreonian press never mentions the Foundation at all. Right now, it's full of the approaching celebrations and nothing else. Lepold is coming of age next week, you know."
"We have months then." Walto smiled for the first time that evening. "That gives us tie"
"That gives us time, my foot," ground out Bort, impatiently. "The king's a god, I tell you. Do you suppose he has to carry on a campaign of propaganda to get his people into fighting spirit? Do you suppose he has to accuse us of aggression and pull out all stops on cheap emotionalism? When the time comes to strike, Lepold gives the order and the people fight. Just like that. That抯 the damnedness of the system. You don抰 question a god. He may give the order tomorrow for all I know; and you can wrap tobacco round that and smoke it."
Everyone tried to talk at once and Sermak was slamming the table for silence, when the front door opened and Levi Norast stamped in. He bounded up the stairs, overcoat on, trailing snow.
"Look at that!" he cried, tossing a cold, snow-speckled newspaper onto the table. "The visicasters are full of it, too."
The newspaper was unfolded and five heads bent over it.
Sermak said, in a hushed voice, "Great Space, he抯 going to Anacreon! Going to Anacreon!"
"It is treason," squeaked Tarki, in sudden excitement. "I抣l be damned if Walto isn抰 right. He抯 sold us out and now he抯 going there to collect his wage."
Sermak had risen. "We抳e no choice now. I抦 going to ask the Council tomorrow that Hardin be impeached. And if that fails"
5.
The snow had ceased, but it caked the ground deeply now and the sleek ground car advanced through the deserted streets with lumbering effort. The murky gray light of incipient dawn was cold not only in the poetical sense but also in a very literal way and even in the then turbulent state of the Foundation's politics, no one, whether Actionist or pro-Hardin found his spirits sufficiently ardent to begin street activity that early.
Yohan Lee did not like that and his grumblings grew audible. "It's going to look bad, Hardin. They're going to say you sneaked away."
"Let them say it if they wish. I've got to get to Anacreon and I want to do it without trouble. Now that's enough, Lee."
Hardin leaned back into the cushioned seat and shivered slightly. It wasn't cold inside the well-heated car, but there was something frigid about a snow-covered world, even through glass, that annoyed him.
He said, reflectively, "Some day when we get around to it we ought to weather-condition Terminus. It could be done."
"I," replied Lee, "would like to see a few other things done first. For instance, what about weather-conditioning Sermak? A nice, dry cell fitted for twenty-five centigrade all year round would be just fight."
"And then I'd really need bodyguards," said Hardin, "and not just those two," He indicated two of Lee's bully-boys sitting up front with the driver, hard eyes on the empty streets, ready hands at their atom blasts. "You evidently want to stir up civil war."