Disclaimer: Beno Kendast belongs to the Isaac Asimov Estate, as does all tyranny and general unpleasantness affiliated therewith.
A/N: I got this idea this morning because, for some reason, I was thinking about something totally different when that little bit in Foundation's Edge about Gendibal's teacher came to mind and wouldn't leave. You may remember—it talks about old Kendast, "a tyrant to the roots of his cerebellum". Of course, I simply had to write about dear old Beno Kendast and his tyranny and general unpleasantness (as well as making up a first name for him—apparently Gendibal didn't bother with details like that) because there's simply so much room for parody in this section. I just love writing Foundation stories because, since there are roughly fifteen at the moment, it's ridiculously easy to come up with new plots. Not so easy to get reviews...But nobody's even started to get into the possible plots of Robots, Empire, and Foundation combined—there must be thousands. Actually, most of the new stories here don't seem to be based on the existing Foundation characters, so I have even more plots to play with. The reason why I mainly write fanfiction instead of original fiction is that I like playing with other people's characters and, occasionally, twisting them a little. But on to the story—I'm sure you've had enough of me talking now.
To the Roots of His Cerebellum
"Hey, Kendast!"
Beno Kendast looked up irritably, wondering when Werit would just give up and leave him alone. He was still most certainly not interested in supporting the Young Mentalics' Cerebral Association, as the young man would have known ten seconds before entering the room if he had bothered to take his head out of the clouds long enough to notice. In fact, if he heard one more thing about this YMCA business, he would take the innumerable flyers that kept showing up outside his apartment door and stuff them down Werit's throat, son of a Speaker or not.
"Kendast?" Yuni Werit eyed him curiously, practically bouncing up and down with the force of his excitement. "Kendast, I wanted to ask you something."
Slamming his cup of coffee onto his desk—would he ever get to drink his coffee in peace?—Kendast gritted his teeth. "I don't want to hear it, Werit," he warned in a dangerously soft voice. "I don't want to hear about programs for today's up-and-coming mentalic youth stuck on fuddy-duddy old Trantor or special groups to develop every young person's unique gifts and help them achieve their true potential as Speakers. And I especially do not want to hear about the Young Mentalics' Cerebral Association."
Werit seemed to slump a little and lose some of his bounce. "Oh," he said a little lamely, looking down at the carpet. "Well, then..."
"Yes?" Kendast prompted eagerly, hoping against hope that Werit would leave and let him attend to more important matters. "Well...?"
Looking back up at Kendast, Werit explained earnestly, "You see, sir, this one's different."
"I—see." Slowly, Kendast turned his chair so that he faced Werit. "So this one is different, eh? So it doesn't involve another scheme to pander to today's youngsters and make them happy with their role in the Second Foundation, eh? So for once you're going to concentrate on the real world and the real problems we face as the secret protectors of the known galaxy, eh?"
"Well, no, sir, not really," Werit admitted, deflating a little more. "Actually, what I had in mind is a radically new way to bridge the generation gap between the Table and the younger members of the Second Foundation." Brightening, he added, "With this plan, you won't be limited to giving support—you can actually make a difference in the lives of young mentalic adults. Doesn't that sound beneficial?"
Beneficial?! Since when did Werit use terms like "beneficial"? "Beneficial," Kendast echoed, not sure he had heard right. "What sounds beneficial to me at the moment is you leaving before I attack you with my bare hands. Do you understand?" He gave Werit his special glare, which he normally reserved for small biting insects and mind-to-mind solicitors.
Werit paled slightly, but stayed where he was. "No, sir, I'm afraid I don't. I need help for my project, and I believe you're the best person to offer it."
"The best?" Kendast choked a little at the sheer audacity of this and felt his hands rise involuntarily from his sides, fingers outstretched and ready to strangle. To his surprise, Werit did not flinch even from this, but raised his chin defiantly.
"Yes. You see, I'm not as out of it as many people around here seem to think." He gave Kendast a dark look and continued. "From my studies of successful Second Foundationers, I gather that blackmail is often very useful in accomplishing things around here. So—" He shrugged. "If you don't help me I'll blackmail you."
Kendast snorted. "Blackmail me? What with?" He would be interested to see what the pipsqueak could come up with.
"With the evidence of your unusually great—or, in truth, not strictly legal—political influence on the previous First Speaker. I'm sure the public would be very interested to know that you were behind some of the policies that caused his stepping down to be so well received," Werit said innocently, his dark eyes wide and honest. "I would truly hate to bring the matter to anyone's attention, especially my father's, but..." He trailed off, giving Kendast a falsely apologetic look.
Trying not to make it too obvious that his blood was freezing in his veins, Kendast swallowed. "Well. I must say, you're a bright young man." He felt his throat constrict, trying to cut off the terrible words. "Er...what exactly did you have in mind for this beneficial project of yours?" After all the trouble he had gone to...the carefully maintained shields...the bribing...how had he found out?
Werit grinned like the fool he obviously was not. "I thought you'd never ask, sir," he enthused. "We have a wonderful new opportunity to integrate young and...um...not quite so young. You can help new recruits adjust to their life with the Second Foundation by..." He paused dramatically, waiting for a reaction.
"Yes! What is it!" snapped Kendast, wishing he'd never laid eyes on Trantor. Now he was being blackmailed by someone one-third of his age. How could things possibly get worse?
"Teaching."
A/N: Yep, another semi-inane Foundation comedy begins. Honestly, almost nobody has even started to explore the possibilities of the Robot and Empire books! Not to mention The Gods Themselves and The End of Eternity and Nemesis and Susan Calvin and Donovan and Powell and...You get my point. After you're done reviewing my stuff, go write lots more of your own and get this section really going. Getting back to the story, note that I made no attempt to have them converse mentalically. That's because the explanation about how it works and the whole thing about a blind person trying to explain color to a blind audience really annoyed me. Anyway, you will continue to see Second Foundationers talk normally throughout my stories—just warning you if you like everything the way it is in the books. Hopefully Chapter 2 will be up soon, but if you review I might write it sooner. *hint hint*