Disclaimer: Suranoviremblastiran, Stor Gendibal, and the Bright Star belong to Asimov.
A/N: And now we join our favorite First Speaker-elect, Stor Gendibal! What horrors will befall him as he prepares to return to Trantor? More worryingly, what horrors will befall him when he returns to Trantor? And what exactly is the Table's fiendish plan?...No, actually that one is pretty obvious. The question is, how will he and Delarmi react? Ha ha ha ha...
Thoglir: Yes, definitely a parody. I personally enjoy inserting random conversations or trains of thought that have nothing to do with the matter at hand...
bobo: Thanks! I did kind of want to give the impression of "goofy and absolutely insane, yet fed up with some of Asimov's characters". Really, now...some of these people are too smart to be true.
Comrade Pokes: Thank you! Licia is great—she may be a stuck-up brat, but no more so than her husband. I'm eventually going to write a story about her when I get the time.
Return
Stor Gendibal was having a lousy day. First he had woken up only three hours after going to bed and had found it impossible to get back to sleep. Then he had finally fallen asleep again—and woken up several hours later to hear Novi singing. He loved everything about Novi except her singing voice, which he hated with a passion.
And now he couldn't find his copy of the Prime Radiant. This was serious.
"Novi?" Stor called loudly. There was no reply. "Novi!" he repeated, beginning to feel impatient. There was no time to be lost—he had to find his precious Prime Radiant or...or...he wasn't quite sure what would happen, but he knew it wouldn't be pleasant. It made him nervous to be separated from it for any length of time, especially at a time like this.
He was distracted from his thoughts as Novi finally responded. "What is it, Master?" she asked, entering his room and looking at him with some concern.
Stor took a deep breath and rolled his eyes mentally. "How many times have I told you not to call me 'Master'?" he demanded. "From now on, you will call me 'Speaker Gendibal' or 'Stor'. All right?"
Novi nodded reluctantly. "Yes, Master." Stor restrained his sudden urge to kill. "But what is it you wanted, Master?"
Oh yes, the Prime Radiant. Stor had almost forgotten in his annoyance at Novi. "Novi, I am looking for my Prime Radiant. Do you know what that is?" he asked gently, speaking slowly so she wouldn't be confused by the term "Prime Radiant".
"Prime Radiant..." Novi mused. "No, Master, I never be hearing—I have never heard of it. Is it one of your scholarly wonders?"
"Er, yes, I suppose so," Stor said. He waved a hand dismissively. "But I can explain it to you another time. What matters most at the moment is that I find it quickly before I go insane." Novi gave him another strange look, apparently surprised to hear him talk this way. He couldn't blame her.
She was silent for a moment. Then she asked, "What does this wonder look like?" Stor sighed inwardly. He kept forgetting that he had to explain even the simplest things to her, but she couldn't be blamed. She was, after all, only an ignorant Hamishwoman.
"It's a cube about this big," he said, demonstrating the size with his hands. Looking at her anxiously, he demanded, "Have you seen it?" He was worried by something he thought he had seen earlier—just a flicker—
There! There it was again, stronger than before. Stor was suddenly filled with dread. "Novi?" he said slowly.
She gulped a little. "Yes, Master?"
"What have you done with my Prime Radiant?"
The question hung unanswered in the air for a moment or two, during which Stor did his best to pry into Novi's mind without prying. There was a definite feeling of guilt there...
At last, Novi said in a small voice, "You mustn't be angry with me, Master. I didn't know what it was, and you shouldn't leave your things lying around the ship." Even in his cold fury, Stor was slightly relieved to hear Novi be so assertive. He would find time to commend her for it later, when he was speaking to her again.
"But what did you do with it, Novi?" Stor persisted, taking her by the shoulders. "Did you...did you accidentally put it in the wash?" Galaxy, he hoped not. The thought of it was enough to make him nauseous.
"Worse, Master," she admitted miserably. "You remember how the garbage is—is—" She made a hand motion, having forgotten the word.
"Jettisoned," Stor supplied automatically. His brain seemed to be slowly shorting out.
"Yes, jettisoned—into space. Well...as I said, Master, you did not warn me. So I took it for a box of some kind, and when I shook it and it made no sound, I thought it was empty. So..." She cringed apologetically, shrugging a little.
Stor was having trouble thinking. His mind had stuck somewhere at the point where Novi had talked about shaking it. Shaking the Prime Radiant...who knew what damage that alone could do. And now it was lost in the infinite cold and dark of space...
Making a face that was more a grimace than a reassuring smile, Stor told Novi, "I'm going to go to my room now and think for a while. You just...er, do what you normally do. And please, please, please consult me before you throw out anything else." Novi nodded tremblingly, apparently so glad to have escaped his wrath for the moment that she could say nothing. Good. Frankly, Stor didn't want to hear anything out of her for the next year or so.
When he had slammed and locked his bedroom door behind him, Stor threw himself onto the bed and screamed into the pillow until he was hoarse. This didn't really make him feel any better, but at least it took the edge off his desperate anger. Once he could think a little more clearly, he sat up and began to plan.
Right. Obviously he couldn't just tell the First Speaker that he had lost his Prime Radiant—that would be a sign of folly and incompetence that Delarmi would milk for all it was worth. No, he would have to come up with some sort of excuse. Hmm...how could he possibly have lost it?
Stor racked his brains for reasons to return to Trantor without his Prime Radiant. It could have been stolen by space pirates!...No, they would have taken the ship as well. He could have sold it to get cash!...That was no good, the Second Foundation had given him plenty of money when he set out. This could take a little thought.
Then, quite suddenly, an idea struck. "I gave it to the needy children of Sayshell," he said aloud, trying it out. It didn't sound too ridiculous. "I felt so sorry for them...they had no decent schools, no hope of education...and so I thought, what better education than the knowledge of history and math provided by the Prime Radiant? They needed it more than I." Yes, he thought, quite good. With a little work, it could be a most convincing story.
The problem would be convincing himself to believe it enough to fool other mentalics.
An hour later, he felt he was ready to try it before an audience. "Novi!" he called, practically bounding out of his room.
She came hesitantly, not sure what to expect. Stor grinned at her. "Novi, ask me how I lost my Prime Radiant."
"But Master—" she protested. Stor shook his head firmly, still smiling, and she stopped. "How did you lose your Prime Radiant, Master?" she asked expressionlessly.
Good enough. "Well, that's an interesting question," Stor began. "Have you ever been to Sayshell?" Novi gave him a look, so he went on without waiting for a response. "Well, there are so many underprivileged children there it just broke my heart. You would think, in modern Galactic society, that every child would have an opportunity for education, but these young ones were just starved for learning, I could see it. So—" He paused to smile and dash an imaginary tear from his eye. No, maybe that was hamming it up a bit too much. "On our way back home, I gave my Prime Radiant as a gift to the young people of Sayshell. I hope they will find in it education and hope for the future."
He looked at Novi, raising his eyebrows. "Well, what did you think?"
"Master," she said in a slightly patronizing tone, as if talking to a five-year-old, "we never went to Sayshell."
Aha. Problem number two.
"Thank you, Novi. You have just reminded me of something," he told her. "When we get back to Trantor, I will tell the First Speaker and the Table what I have just told you, and I do not want you to say anything to the contrary."
"You want me to lie to other scholars?" she asked, her eyes wide.
Stor shook his head, smiling. "No, just leave out the truth. In fact, it's probably better if you simply don't say anything at all if you can help it. Just leave it to me."
Novi looked at him dubiously. "Will you be able to lie to the other scholars?" she asked fearfully.
"Trust me," Stor said confidently.
Four days later, Stor Gendibal was just as confident about his story, but considerably more annoyed. He had always been fairly good at piloting spaceships—it was landing them that was the problem for him. He simply hadn't worked up the nerve yet.
"Why are we going in circles around Trantor, Master?" Novi asked him.
Stor looked at her somewhat peevishly, not really wanting to address this topic at the moment. "It's called orbiting. What makes you think we are?" he replied.
"We must be," she said, shrugging. "You said we would arrive at Trantor in two days. That was four days ago." Stor winced a little, wondering why she had to bring this up. Theoretically, of course, the Bright Star should be able to land itself if he told it to, but he didn't quite trust a computer that complex.
This time, he vowed, he would do it. There was no reason not to. The computer would take care of everything...
"I have my own reasons for these things," he told Novi enigmatically. "And, for my own reasons which have nothing whatever to do with cowardice, I have decided that now is the time to land." Beckoning her to follow, he went to the computer desk and sat down, placing his hands on it as usual.
Land!
Though the change was imperceptible to those inside the ship, Stor felt it through his connection with the computer. In that one command, he had also fed it the coordinates of the deserted field that served as an airstrip for the ships of the Second Foundation. Now he just had to sit back and wait...
Feeling his heartbeat ease itself back to normal, Stor turned to Novi with a smile. "You see, Novi," he said. "It's not difficult. Why, you could probably do it!"
She backed away immediately. "Oh, no, Master, I could never do such a thing. That is for wise scholars like you."
Stor had never noticed before how her sincere flattery grated on him. He must speak to her about that, he decided. But not now—right now he had to go lie down. The sheer effort involved in showing off for Novi was quite exhausting.
As soon as the Bright Star had landed, Stor made preparations to leave. His things had been packed for some time, of course, but he wanted to make the right impression when he set foot on Trantorian soil again. If he came out immediately, people would think he couldn't handle long periods in space. If he waited too long, people would think he was slow. The key was to wait just long enough to suggest that he had something important to wrap up before he left the ship.
"Let us go now, Master," Novi suggested patiently. "We can leave, can't we?"
"Yes, yes, but not yet," Stor said. "Wait a few more minutes." They did, sitting in a rather uncomfortable silence. Novi was obviously bored but didn't want to show it in front of him.
At last Stor got to his feet and said, "All right, Novi, we may leave now." Picking up his bags, he opened the airlock and led the way out, his head held high like a conqueror as he strode out to meet the welcoming committee, such as it was.
As he had thought, the welcoming committee consisted of the Table. Novi was careful to stay a few paces behind Stor, still leery of other scholars. Stor smiled at everybody and tried to ignore the slight twinges of amusement among the other Speakers. Now what was that about?
Stepping onto the grass, Stor clasped hands warmly—or as warmly as possible—with the First Speaker. "It's good to be back, First Speaker," he said honestly.
"And it's good to have you back," the First Speaker replied with the slightest suggestion of a wolfish smile playing about his lips. "Welcome to Trantor, Speaker Gendibal."
A/N: How long will it take the brilliant Stor Gendibal to figure out that he is in major trouble? Any bets? I'm guessing a month, two at the most. And meanwhile, of course, he will be constantly confused by Operation Secret Admirer and the fact that all the other Speakers have to work to keep from laughing every time they see him...Okay, this is not good. Either my Internet connection isn't working tonight or I didn't manage to upload the whole second chapter. Did you guys manage to get all of it? Because here's the major problem: I seem to have deleted the file from my computer—it's not on any of my disks either. However, I think it must just be my computer—I always preview things before I post them and I would have noticed if the last half of the chapter was missing, don't you think? Hopefully I'll have the next chapter up soon! (And please review my other Foundation stories, because they really need more reviews.)