Chapter 7

Anger. It fueled his inmost being. It permeated and sustained his core. Fury defined him, from moment to moment. For many long years, he had known nothing other than its close brother, hatred. Pain constantly filled him, and that pain fed his anger and hatred. Moreover, it gave him focus.

Focus is now what he required most as he faced his most recently assigned task. His master had detected it first, but Lord Vader detected it soon thereafter. Of course, Lord Sidious was ever-alert to any possible threat to his rule, regardless of how insignificant it might be, so his master's earlier detection had hardly come as a surprise.

Then again, this particular threat was not minor, neither to Lord Vader or his master. This new threat was strong in the Force. Indeed it was stronger in the Force than Vader had sensed since before his turn to the Dark Side.

But it was unfocused, almost wild. This new threat was powerful. Vader sensed as much. But it was … not disciplined, untrained. The threat was so undisciplined that it all but radiated Force energy, making his (Vader assumed the threat was male) presence easy to pinpoint.

Vader's flagship raced through hyperspace toward the Maw. Flanking it were two more Imperial Star Destroyers. Whoever this threat was would soon face his full wrath, and Vader would show no mercy.

Many years before, Vader's former master has grievously injured him on the volcanic planet of Mustafar. There, bereft of his legs and arm, used used his mechanical arm and hand to drag himself away from the blazing lava. Doing so had allowed him to continue living, but it was not enough. His injuries were too terrible.

Rage. Rage and his burning hatred had strengthened the power of the Dark Side of the Force within him. That power maintained his life through the Force. The Force was to be manipulated, not served. His master taught him that. Nothing but his hatred could save him. It had sustained him that fateful day, until his master could arrive and save him, emplacing him within the cybernetic body that now sustained him.

Yet it was insufficient in and of itself. His master had been careful not to heal Vader's injuries before placing him within the black armor, for it was a reminder of his weakness. Weakness had caused Lord Vader to be felled by the Jedi Master who had been his former master.

Weakness. Vader despised it, and his constant pain reminded him that the only way to overcome weakness was through constant anger. Anger caused hatred. Hatred fed the Dark Side of the Force. And that granted him focus, and power. Vader unconsciously clenched his cybernetic fists within armored gauntlets.

Through the sensors in his visor, Vader could see much through enhanced vision, but he was a slave to those ocular systems. For only limited amounts of time could he remove his helmet, and then only within specialized chambers. That knowledge was always with him, and it served to increase his fury. Using those sensors, he studied his personal panel to determine when he would arrive. Even from this distance, he could feel the power emanating from the Maw.

…

The old man rocked slowly in his old wooden rocking chair. Like everything else in his simple domicile, the chair had been grown into its shape, and it had a consciousness shared with all of Gaia. It acquiesced in its simple consciousness to be used as a tool. It had consciousness shared with the rest of the living planet, and a distinct consciousness of its own. So did the walls, the floor, the trees and grass outside, the insects, and all of life upon Gaia. A perfect symbiosis of life, sharing psychic energy, and thus exponentially magnifying it made the living planet powerful.

So powerful was Gaia, that it had successfully erased itself from all records throughout the galaxy. Of course, the Mule knew of Gaia, for he was a lost son. Not content with being part of the collective of Gaia, he had fled, though none had banished him. He was now in another galaxy, but part of him remained tied to the collective, willingly or not, and so Gaia knew where he was.

Through their lost son, Gaia sensed a powerful malevolence that was poised to strike into the heart of their own galaxy. Technology on a staggering scale might well allow that malevolence to do what nobody in their own galaxy could do – strike at Gaia itself.

The old man did not lose the bland look upon his face, and the rhythm of his rocking changed not at all. He did not speak, nor was there another person nearby who could hear him had he done so. The man rarely spoke at all, for it simply wasn't necessary. His thoughts were shared by the chair upon which he sat, the walls of his living domicile, the animals and people of Gaia.

Thus decision-making was easy. Within seconds, a life-altering decision was made, and agreement was complete and unquestioned. Another young man would lead an expedition, and he would take four other persons with him.

Even now, a starship was growing itself, especially designed for the mission. Its consciousness, shared with all of Gaia, shaped it into an intelligent and powerful living ship. The ship knew who its occupants would be, and its amenities and interfaces were specifically formed just for them. Nothing so clunky as instrument panels, computer terminals, or even neural interfaces would be included on the living craft. The starship would of course look like any other number of starships found throughout the Mule's empire, at least on the outside. Scans would reveal nothing of its true nature or capabilities.

The old man slowed his rocking long enough to enjoy the living art before him on the wall. In its simple consciousness, the scenery it depicted shifted slowly into other depictions of scenery throughout all of Gaia. It relished in its own purpose, sharing its simple enjoyment with any witnessing it. Like the old man in the living chair, the art did not worry. Gaia never worried. He/she/it made plans and executed them, as he/she/it was doing now.

…

The moon.

For much of human history, prior to the irreversible irradiation of the birthplace of humanity, that's all this natural satellite had been known as. For thousands of years, the planet around which this moon orbited had been an irradiated lifeless husk.

R. Daneel Olivaw's positronic brain did not forget details, and he could calculate at speeds that modern computer systems could come nowhere near matching. His agents were scattered throughout the Mule's empire, and a key agent was now dispatched to the alien galaxy on the other side of the stable anomaly.

Daneel could communicate with his agents nearly instantly, over incredible distances, though R. Robert Flynn was out of his considerable reach, for now. Robert was resourceful though, and Daneel knew he would find a way to contact him.

Daneel had not remained active for thousands of years through carelessness, so he ensured activation of branches and sequels to his plans. One of those included at least three other robots actively infiltrating into the Mule's fleet currently transitioning forces to the alien galaxy. While most of those robots were considerably newer than Robert, lacking his more ancient and sophisticated positronic brain, they yet were fully capable of executing their mission parameters.

He was seated in an old chair, fashioned like one of any number of wooden chairs that might have been found in homes in the North American continent in the late Nineteenth Century of the old calendar, on old Earth. Behind him stood the replica of a mansion that might have been found during the same era, in the same place.

From time to time, Daneel questioned the logic of such structures within the confines of the moon base, but deep within his positronic matrix, he believed he knew why. Such things served as a reminder of a time shortly before the advent of technology that would make beings like himself possible. Those reminders were important, for they were echoes of humanity's origins, much like the radiated planet around which his moon base orbited.

Humanity was capable of magnificent feats, but it was simultaneously capable of horrendous ill. So, long ago he and his fellow robots had determined that the Zeroth Law must be emplaced and enacted, to protect humanity from itself. Daneel and his cohorts worked tirelessly to do just that.

Daneel was aware of the work of the Second Foundation. Even with his vast network of robotic spies, he had remained ignorant of where they had hidden themselves, at least until the Mule had done so, just before razing Trantor from orbit and obliterating all life on that planet. Daneel suspected that the Mule was unable to exterminate the Second Foundation in its entirety.

The Mule. That was a problem for which Daneel had not been prepared. He of course knew that humans could produce mutants from time to time, and he similarly understood that some of those mutations could result in increased mental or even psychic abilities. But the incredible extent of the Mule's abilities defied all calculated expectations. It was an anomaly as strange as the one that led to the alien galaxy.

Of more concern to Daneel was that alien galaxy. If the reports he received were accurate, a vast and powerful empire ruled that alien galaxy, and its weaponry and technology dwarfed that of even the Mule's empire.

And that alien empire had robots, lots of them, apparently on nearly every starship and planet. His reports suggested that the robots of that galaxy did not look like the sentient beings from there. Rather they held multiple mechanical appearances and filled many functions. Much more than that, Daneel knew not. But more of his fellow robots would soon infiltrate that strange galaxy to learn more.

…

The starship was dotted with terminals, most of which required code cylinders for different levels of access, but R. Robert Flynn found them relatively simple to override. The trick was preventing security systems from detecting the overrides, and so Robert ensured they were not triggered. Meanwhile, he learned a great deal about Imperial procedures and protocols within this galaxy's ruling empire.

"Sir, your presence is required at a command and staff meeting," emitted a tinny voice from behind Robert. He turned to see an Imperial stormtrooper standing just behind him. He now knew that the stromtrooper was a lieutenant, and he was apparently serving as a courier. Based on what his positronic matrix had absorbed from the terminals he had recently accessed. He was dressed an an Imperial officer, and he knew how to address the stormtrooper.

"Understood, Lieutenant. You are dismissed."

Robert returned his attention to the terminal. His positronic brain worked at incredible speed to locate the schedule for the officer he had earlier dispatched, and whose uniform he now wore. He did not look like that officer, but it was a simple matter for him to alter the shape and pigment of his face to more closely match the deceased officer. He quickly found a voice recording of the officer and adjusted his own vocal hardware to emulate it.

The terminal was very instructive, and within mere seconds Robert absorbed all available information in regard to the deceased officer's personal and professional history, including his cohorts, superiors, and subordinates. He was relieved to discover the officer had no spouse or children. Robert would switch his identity to that of the officer, until doing so no longer proved advantageous.

Captain Jerod Hvok strode imperiously through the corridors of the Imperial Star Destroyer toward the location of the command and staff meeting. So completely had Robert assumed that persona, that he simply thought of himself as Captain Hvok of the Imperial Army. Robert buried his true identity deeply, in order to prevent it from betraying him.

"You are uncharacteristically late, Captain Hvok," snapped Colonel Stalk at the head of a table occupied by officers.

A quick scan of their faces and auras revealed to Robert both their identities and emotional states. Some were confused or nervous, while others were overconfident. All were at least vaguely puzzled. That was the Mule's psychic effect upon them. Robert could still feel the Mule's dread attempting to overwhelm his own positronic mind too, but his recognition of it allowed him to dismiss it for what it was.

Robert sat in the chair he knew was for Captain Hvok.

"My apologies, sir. I was momentarily detained."

A few of the officers cleared their throats, while others held a steady gaze upon Robert as he sat. Robert quickly ascertained the images and background of each man at the table, and by reading the mens' facial expressions he instantly knew the attitudes of each toward each other, toward him, and toward the situation in general. Robert did not fail to notice the two droids in the conference room with him, though it was highly unlikely that either robot knew of or suspected Robert's own true nature.

"We will receive the fleet commander within the hour," said Colonel Stalk without preamble. He shifted his gaze to each officer in turn.

"Our orders are to assemble all field-grade and higher officers on the main hanger deck, where we will receive instructions."

"Sir, what is the occasion?" asked one of the more junior offices. The colonel glared and the young man, reducing him to quick silence. He continued as though the officer had not spoken.

"Captain Hvok, you will ensure all security protocols for the event are properly emplaced and supervised."

"Yes sir," replied Robert, adding his own glare at the officer, whom he understood to be one of his own subordinates. Silently, he wondered who would be in the boarding party, other than the fleet commander.

"The First Citizen will be in attendance with officer from his native galaxy," added the colonel, "so modify security procedures accordingly."

That answered Robert's question. He would have to be cautious.

"Yes sir."

...

Jon Sulvin felt the transition into the new galaxy, though the anomaly, and from his own native galaxy. Slamming into his mind like a sledgehammer was the overbearing psychic energy of the Mule. Reflexively, he threw up a psychic shield within his mind to create a barrier to the overwhelming sense of dread that the Mule's psychic power created. He knew that the other four Second Foundation personnel on the ship had simultaneously also done so. Not so fortunate were the vast majority of the traders and crew members aboard the ship on which they had gained passage.

Gaining passage on the ship had been a simple matter of psychic manipulation on the part of the Second Foundation men. They were now traders like most others on the ship, and they were well-practiced in behaving as traders, for they had long been forced to play multiple roles in order to gain their end. So it was an easy matter for them to blend in with the others.

But they had weapons others could neither possess or detect. They had powerful minds, psychic abilities, and an understanding of the Prime Radiant handed down by the great Hari Seldon himself. They all knew what must be done in order to avoid galactic chaos, followed by a long and bitter dark age. What the Prime Radiant had not shown was the Mule. Nor had it calculated the possibility of a powerful galactic empire eclipsing the Mule's own empire in power and technological prowess through an unforeseen spacial anomaly.

And so here they were, traveling in a small trader fleet, gliding through a region of space dotted by incredibly-powerful black holes. Ahead of them loomed yet more of the gigantic wedge-shaped warships that had wrecked so much destruction within the entrance of their native galaxy. There was no damage to be seen here. No debris or flash-frozen corpses littered this particular area of space. Peering toward the Maw Cluster, Sulvin allowed himself to absorb its stunning beauty.

The ship in which he and his cohorts travelled maneuvered toward one of the wedge-shaped ships, and Sulvin reached out with his senses in an attempt to read the emotional states of some of those aboard. Knowing the presence of the Mule within close proximity, he had no wish to tip his hand, so he kept his probing to a minimum. Sulvin sensed confusion, fear, arrogance, and...

Rage!

Sulvin physically stumbled backward into a bulkhead as he felt the sudden onslaught of fury sending a shockwave of psychic energy slamming into him. Catching his breath, he peered out of a porthole to see three new giant wedge-shaped ships jump into the system. The center ship was the focal point of that rage, and Sulvin found he had clasped his hands tightly to his ears, though the psychic blast he had endured had nothing to do with sound waves. Someone powerful was aboard that ship, and Sulvin was certain its fury was directed toward the Mule.