Disclaimer: If Isaac Asimov knew about this, I am sure he would be grateful that I own Operation Secret Admirer and not he. However, he does own the characters.
A/N: So…now we can actually begin the main part of the story. Dang, it's been so long since I updated! Stupid schoolwork…Ah well. Such is life. This chapter may be a tad pointless, but I feel okay with doing that since I now have the leisure to update sometime before the next century. I tend to get carried away with random details, hence the entire last chapter. I did have fun, though. Thanks to all my reviewers:
Lispeth: I totally agree, Asimov's characters often lack that dimension in the Foundation books. Some of his other books have no shortage of romance, but the Second Foundation…sad lack of actual emotional development there.
Green Eve: Thanks! I was definitely hoping for a certain liveliness, since I tend to plod along with the actual storyline in things like this. If you're still reading, hope you enjoy this!
DemonOfShadow: Thank you! I don't know if you'll actually come back to review this chapter, since it's been so long, but I'm glad you enjoyed it so far.
MintyPill: Man, I love your reviews! Thank you so much for the encouragement, other people's laughter really makes my day. You should definitely consider being a professional online reviewer. Though that might not pay much…
Deceit
"First Speaker," Trega Miran said respectfully, excitement evident in her every movement as she entered Shandess's office. The First Speaker looked up, his minor annoyance at the interruption quickly swept away by eagerness to hear her news.
He smiled at her and gestured her to a seat across the desk from him. "What news of our…er…project?" he inquired sotto voce, darting a quick glance around the office to make sure it wasn't bugged. He had always wanted to do something like that, but there just wasn't much opportunity for that sort of melodrama on Trantor. A pity, really.
"I've spoken to Speaker Delarmi, of course," Miran began. "She seems to have recovered nicely from her cold." She paused to share a commiserating grimace with the First Speaker, then went on with her report. "I couldn't resist telling her how glad we all are that Speaker Gendibal is with us once more."
A smile played around the corners of the First Speaker's lips, an expression of strong amusement. Yes, Delarmi-baiting was always a relaxing activity after a hard day of work. He certainly couldn't blame Miran for having a little fun.
"And did she have anything to say about him?" he asked curiously.
Miran smiled a little. "She pretended she hadn't heard me mention him." Typical.
"However," Miran continued, "I do have some more serious news." The First Speaker's ears pricked up. Under the circumstances, any serious news was most likely bad news.
The silence hung in the office for a few seconds. "Well?" the First Speaker prompted. "Serious news?"
"Yes." Miran paused, then blurted, "I have reason to suspect that Speaker Gendibal is romantically involved with the Hamishwoman."
The First Speaker took several deep, cleansing breaths. "I see," he said at last. "And what suggests this to you?"
Miran sighed and shook her head. "It's just written all over him. I've seen them together and—" She broke off, trying to hide the mentalic equivalent of a blush. There was indeed a downside to reading others' emotional states.
"I understand," Shandess said hastily. "No need to go into details. But if you are sure of this…" He wondered how he could possibly have missed such a dangerous development. Maybe Delarmi was right and his age was catching up with him.
"We're going to have to implement drastic measures," Miran mused aloud. "Shall we call an emergency meeting?"
Shandess paused. Then, "Yes. Yes, I think we'd better," he replied. Whatever was to be done about the situation, it would require the cooperation of the other Speakers, and they had to come to a decision soon. There was no time to lose.
Sura Novi had to go.
Two hours later, ten Speakers were gathered in Shandess's office—using the meeting room would be too conspicuous—doing their best to find comfortable spots in a room made to hold four people at the most. It was, of course, impossible.
"This meeting is hereby called to order," Shandess announced. "Let's skip the formalities. I suppose by now you all know why we are here?"
There was a murmur of general agreement. Good. They could cut to the chase, then.
"As you all know, unexpected problems have appeared on the Gendibal front," he continued. "This business with the Hamishwoman must be investigated and put a stop to at all costs. Does anyone have any ideas?"
Dead silence.
"Come on." Shandess couldn't believe this. "Surely someone must have an idea!" Nobody did.
There was an uncomfortable silence for a few more seconds, punctuated by coughs and throat-clearing noises. Shandess found this extremely irritating and didn't try to hide it. "What kind of Speakers are you, anyway?" he demanded.
"What about you?" Lestim Gianni demanded hotly. "I don't see you coming up with any brilliant ideas, O great leader."
This was degenerating fast. If Shandess didn't move quickly, he might have a mutiny on his hands. And mutinies, while always vicious, were much, much worse in the Second Foundation.
"Speakers, Speakers," he said calmly, doing his best to smile. "We must all work together if we expect to succeed in our plan. Now, are there any ideas about our problem?"
Leonis Cheng raised a hand rather timidly. "We could have the Hamishwoman assassinated," he suggested.
"Hmm," the First Speaker mused. "A good idea, but impractical. Too easy to trace back to us." The other Speakers nodded in agreement. Cheng looked extremely disappointed.
"Or we could kidnap her," Trega Miran volunteered. "Get her offworld somehow, maybe."
The First Speaker nodded slowly. "That has promise," he admitted. "But it would take careful planning and utter secrecy." He looked around at the others, his piercing gaze fixed on each in turn. "Can I trust all of you to be loyal?"
They all assured him of their utmost loyalty to him and their determination to keep the scheme a secret. Lies, he was sure of it. At least in some cases.
"Good," he said aloud, filling his mind with innocent trust. "Then, we must turn our attention to our plan. It will have to be put in motion soon, before the Table falls back into its ordinary habits. If Gendibal and Delarmi are allowed to start hating each other on a regular basis again, the plan will fail." Thinking quickly, he continued, "Five of us will work on the Hamish situation, while the other five will implement the plan." He indicated two groups with a few nods of his head, placing himself in the first group. Better that he should deal with the dangerous part himself.
Melda Werit, one of those chosen for the second group, spoke up. "What should we do, First Speaker? I mean…I don't think any of us have ever done anything quite like this before. And are you sure it's quite ethical…?"
"Yes," Shandess said firmly. "Absolutely, undoubtedly ethical. All's fair in love and war, eh?" That got a few chuckles. "If I were you, I would begin with anonymous notes. That should be sufficiently confusing. Catch them off guard and they are ours." He did not quite grin—Speakers did not grin—but he managed to radiate immense satisfaction.
Speaker Trega Miran left the meeting deep in thought. She had been assigned to the group in charge of setting their scheme in motion, and her mind was already hard at work thinking of ways to start on the assignment at once. Cards? Flowers? Jewelry?
Aha! A possibility sprang suddenly to mind. An excellent possibility.
Chocolate.
Perfect, she thought with satisfaction. Even weirdoes like Gendibal and Delarmi couldn't possibly hate chocolate; everyone liked chocolate. And, as a regular chocolate consumer herself, she could obtain it without anyone suspecting she was up to something. Overeating had its uses.
"Hello," she said pleasantly to the cashier twenty minutes later, placing the huge box of truffles on the counter.
The woman smiled at her. "Will this be all, Speaker?" she asked. All the employees here knew her well, but customs still dictated their unfailing politeness.
"Yes, I think so," Miran said with a small, secret smile. The smile, rather unusual in a society used to strict emotional control, lingered around the corners of her mouth as she made her cheerful way to her apartment, drawing some odd looks but nothing more. Nobody would dare imply there was anything odd about a Speaker's behavior.
Miran sent messages to the other four Speakers in her group, informing them of her immediate action. She suggested that they hold a planning meeting that evening in her apartment and hinted delicately that there would be drinks and dessert. No harm in offering a little reward for hard work…
At seven o'clock, everyone was gathered in her sitting room, perched on various chairs and a small sofa. Miran had tidied up a little for the occasion, which consisted of shoving huge piles of printouts and bookfilms into a corner and moving her desk chair in front of the mess to screen it from view.
"All right, everyone," she said, clapping her hands twice to make sure she had their attention. "I think we should get started."
Speaker Werit made herself comfortable in her chosen armchair before speaking. "What is the purpose of this meeting, Speaker? I'm sure you have a plan," she said, with just the slightest hint of a snide smile.
Miran sighed inwardly. As one of the youngest Speakers—only in her fifties—she was well aware that someone as chronologically advanced as Melda Werit might take offense if she automatically assumed a role of leadership. "I'd like to hear everyone's ideas before we formulate a plan of action," she replied politely. There were nods of agreement from the others.
"Well," said Terrian Dels a little diffidently, "I think we can follow the First Speaker's excellent suggestion and say that anonymous notes are a must. I mean, I remember in my younger days—passionate romances and secret admirers and all that—" He trailed off with a self-deprecating chuckle.
"Don't we all," Miran said encouragingly. "You're absolutely right, Speaker Dels." She carefully scribbled down "Anonymous notes" on the clipboard she held in her lap. "Anyone else?"
"Romantic nighttime walks in the gardens," suggested Speaker Ker Eshol.
Miran raised her eyebrows a little. "Hmmm," she said. "Well, I can see I'll have to put in a column for long-range goals…" All the other Speakers expressed similar amusement at the thought of Delarmi and Gendibal walking through the rose garden hand in hand, exchanging sappy sentiments. It was definitely something to work for.
"I've already bought some chocolate, as I told you in the memo," Miran said proudly. "That's bound to help, in my opinion. And flowers for Delarmi wouldn't hurt either…" She wrote down her own additions, "Chocolate" and "Flowers", and looked up at the others expectantly. No more ideas seemed forthcoming.
"Right," she said briskly. "Chocolate we have. Speaker Werit, could you possibly get us flowers? I'm sure whatever you choose will be excellent," she added, hoping to placate the older woman. The last thing she needed was Werit on the warpath.
Speaker Werit's smile resembled something that had recently been taken out of the freezer and was not quite finished thawing out yet. At least it was an improvement—the woman was trying, that much was obvious. Miran returned the smile graciously.
Half an hour of intense discussion followed, punctuated by occasional glares from Werit, during which the Speakers proposed and rejected many plans. One of the most pressing matters was the method of delivery for the notes and other gifts. The ideas ranged from the halfway plausible to the simply inane—the suggestion of ringing Gendibal's and Delarmi's door buzzers and then running away was considered seriously for some time, until one of them pointed out that with powerful mentalics, one simply couldn't get away with something like that. Eventually the group decided to leave the notes in the care of the floor proctors and trust to their discretion (and healthy fear of Speakers) to keep them quiet.
By seven-thirty, the committee had come up with a master plan of breathtaking scope, consisting of several phases to be implemented within the next two months. Miran was very pleased with their progress. It was a huge achievement to get any assembly of Speakers to cooperate and agree on anything, let alone something so far outside the range of their normal duties.
"I think that concludes the business for this meeting." When nobody indicated otherwise, Miran nodded briskly and stood up. "All right, then. I can handle this first mission on my own, but having a little backup may not be a bad idea in case something goes wrong. Speaker Phenet, can you watch my back?" Bel Phenet nodded importantly—buttering up prestigious Speakers like him never hurt, and Miran really did think having backup was a good idea. Life at the university was full of surprises, not all of them pleasant.
After the others had left, Miran leaned back in her favorite armchair and sighed contentedly. It had been a long day, and all that negotiation had worn her out. She would certainly need her sleep to prepare adequately for the next morning. Smiling, Miran contemplated the elegance of their plan, a work of genius that she privately thought might rival the Prime Radiant itself for sheer complexity and beauty.
Delarmi and Gendibal were about to get the surprise of their lives.
A/N: Well, there it is. A…really rather unfunny chapter. What can I say, it happens. And it's leading into that part of the story where I can let my creative juices flow…muahahaha. Not that I plan to make life miserable for any of the characters or anything. We all know I'd never do that, right? More in the next chapter about the plot against Novi!