"Maybe I can break this up before they come."
He began pushing his way through. It wasn't difficult. Some of those present recognized him and all could see the professorial shoulder patch. He reached the platform, placed his hands on it, and vaulted up the three feet with a small grunt. He thought, with chagrin, that he could have done it with one hand ten years before and without the grunt.
He straightened up. The speaker had stopped talking and was looking at him with wary and ice-hard eyes.
Seldon said calmly, "Your permit to address the students, sir."
"Who are you?" said the speaker. He said it loudly, his voice carrying.
"I'm a member of the faculty of this University," said Seldon, equally loudly. "Your permit, sir?"
"I deny your right to question me on the matter." The young men behind the speaker had gathered closer.
"If you have none, I would advise you to leave the University grounds immediately."
"And if I don't?"
"Well, for one thing, the University security officers are on their way." He turned to the crowd. "Students," he called out, "we have the right of free speech and freedom of assembly on this campus, but it can be taken away from us if we allow outsiders, without permits, to make unauthorized-"
A heavy hand fell on his shoulder and he winced. He turned around and found it was one of the men Finangelos had referred to as "goons."
The man said, with a heavy accent whose provenance Seldon could not immediately identify, "Get out of here fast. "
"What good will that do?" said Seldon. "The security officers will be here any minute."
"In that case," said Namarti with a feral grin, "there'll be a riot. That doesn't scare us."
"Of course it wouldn't," said Seldon. "You'd like it, but there won't be a riot. You'll all go quietly." He turned again to the students and shrugged off the hand on his shoulder. "We'll see to that, won't we?"
Someone in the crowd shouted, "That's Professor Seldon! He's all right! Don't pound him!"
Seldon sensed ambivalence in the crowd. There would be some, he knew, who would welcome a dust-up with the University security officers, just on general principles. On the other hand, there had to be some who liked him personally and still others who did not know him but who would not want to see violence against a member of the faculty.
A woman's voice rang out. "Watch out, Professor!"
Seldon sighed and regarded the large young men he faced. He didn't know if he could do it, if his reflexes were quick enough, his muscles sturdy enough, even given his prowess at Twisting.
One goon was approaching him, overconfidently of course. Not quickly, which gave Seldon a little of the time his aging body would need. The goon held out his arm confrontationally, which made it easier.
Seldon seized the arm, whirled, and bent, arm up, and then down (with a grunt-why did he have to grunt?), and the goon went flying through the air, propelled partly by his own momentum. He landed with a thump on the outer edge of the platform, his right shoulder dislocated.
There was a wild cry from the audience at this totally unexpected development. Instantly an institutional pride erupted.
"Take them, Prof!" a lone voice shouted. Others took up the cry.
Seldon smoothed back his hair, trying not to puff. With his foot he shoved the groaning fallen goon off the platform.
"Anyone else?" he asked pleasantly. "Or will you leave quietly?"
He faced Namarti and his five henchmen and as they paused irresolutely, Seldon said, "I warn you. The crowd is on my side now. If you try to rush me, they'll take you apart. Okay, who's next? Let's go. One at a time."
He had raised his voice with the last sentence and made small come-hither motions with his fingers. The crowd yelled its pleasure.
Namarti stood there stolidly. Seldon leaped past him and caught his neck in the crook of his arm. Students were climbing onto the platform now, shouting "One at a time! One at a time!" and getting between the bodyguards and Seldon.
Seldon increased the pressure on the other's windpipe and whispered in his ear, "There's a way to do this, Namarti, and I know how: I've practiced it for years. If you make a move and try to break away, I'll ruin your larynx so that you'll never talk above a whisper again. If you value your voice, do as I say. When I let up, you tell your bunch of bullies to leave. If you say anything else, they'll be the last words you'll say normally. And if you ever come back to this campus again, no more Mr. Nice Guy. I'll finish the job."
He released the pressure momentarily. Namarti said huskily, "All of you. Get out." They retreated rapidly, helping their stricken comrade.
When the University security officers arrived a few moments later, Seldon said, "Sorry, gentlemen. False alarm."
He left the Field and resumed his walk home with more than a little chagrin. He had revealed a side of himself he did not want to reveal. He was Hari Seldon, mathematician, not Hari Seldon, sadistic twister.
Besides, he thought gloomily, Dors would hear of this. In fact, he'd better tell her himself, lest she hear a version that made the incident seem worse than it really was.
She would not be pleased.
3
She wasn't.
Dors was waiting for him at the door of their apartment in an easy stance, hand on one hip, looking very much as she had when he had first met her at this very University eight years before: slim, shapely, with curly reddish-gold hair-very beautiful in his eyes but not very beautiful in any objective sense, though he had never been able to assess her objectively after the first few days of their friendship.