Pappa stirred. His cigar had gone out, unnoticed. “A deal for food, huh? Hm-m-m– But the Foundation is so far away.”
“Oh, I know. I guess you couldn’t do it from here. If you took a regular liner you probably couldn’t get closer than Massena or Smushyk, and after that you’d have to hire a small scoutship or something to slip you through the lines.”
Pappa’s hand brushed at his hair, as he calculated.
Two weeks later, arrangements for the mission were completed. Mamma railed for most of the time– First, at the incurable obstinacy with which he courted suicide. Then, at the incredible obstinacy with which he refused to allow her to accompany him.
Pappa said, “Mamma, why do you act like an old lady. I can’t take you. It’s a man’s work. What do you think a war is? Fun? Child’s play?”
“Then why do you go? Are you a man, you old fool – with a leg and half an arm in the grave. Let some of the young ones go – not a fat bald-head like you?”
“I’m not a bald-head,” retorted Pappa, with dignity. “I got yet lots of hair. And why should it not be me that gets the commission? Why, a young fellow? Listen, this could mean millions?”
She knew that and she subsided.
Arcadia saw him once before he left.
She said, “Are you going to Terminus?”
“Why not? You say yourself they need bread and rice and potatoes. Well, I’ll make a deal with them, and they’ll get it.”
“Well, then – just one thing: If you’re going to Terminus, could you … would you see my father?”
And Pappa’s face crinkled and seemed to melt into sympathy, “Oh – and I have to wait for you to tell me. Sure, I’ll see him. I’ll tell him you’re safe and everything’s O.K., and when the war is over, I’ll bring you back.”
“Thanks. I’ll tell you how to find him. His name is Dr. Toran Darell and he lives in Stanmark. That’s just outside Terminus City, and you can get a little commuting plane that goes there. We’re at 55 Channel Drive.”
“Wait, and I’ll write it down.”
“No, no,” Arcadia’s arm shot out. “You mustn’t write anything down. You must remember – and find him without anybody’s help.”
Pappa looked puzzled. Then he shrugged his shoulders. “All right, then. It’s 55 Channel Drive in Stanmark, outside Terminus City, and you commute there by plane. All right?”
“One other thing.”
“Yes?”
“Would you tell him something from me?”
“Sure.”
“I want to whisper it to you.”
He leaned his plump cheek toward her, and the little whispered sound passed from one to the other.
Pappa’s eyes were round. “That’s what you want me to say? But it doesn’t make sense.”
“He’ll know what you mean. Just say I sent it and that I said he would know what it means. And you say it exactly the way I told you. No different. You won’t forget it?”
“How can I forget it? Five little words. Look–”
“No, no.” She hopped up and down in the intensity of her feelings. “Don’t repeat it. Don’t ever repeat it to anyone. Forget all about it except to my father. Promise me.”
Pappa shrugged again. “I promise! All right!”
“All right,” she said, mournfully, and as he passed down the drive to where the air taxi waited to take him to the spaceport, she wondered if she had signed his death warrant. She wondered if she would ever see him again.
She scarcely dared to walk into the house again to face the good, kind Mamma. Maybe when it was all over, she had better kill herself for what she had done to them.
19
End of War
QUORISTON, BATTLE OF Fought on 9, 17, 377 F.E. between the forces of the Foundation and those of Lord Stettin of Kalgan, it was the last battle of consequence during the Interregnum ….
ENCYCLOPEDIA GALACTICA
Jole Turbor, in his new role of war correspondent, found his bulk incased in a naval uniform, and rather liked it. He enjoyed being back on the air, and some of the fierce helplessness of the futile fight against the Second Foundation left him in the excitement of another sort of fight with substantial ships and ordinary men.