"Mule…"
Summary: My AU version of the Asimov tale from his collection of Foundation and Second Foundation tales.
Even as civil war threatens the mighty but flawed Foundation, the Galaxy's greatest power since the Fall of the great Galactic Empire, its road to eventual triumph as the reuniting force in the Galaxy yet (supposedly) guaranteed by the quasi-mystical Seldon Plan, a mysterious warlord of a new and rapidly rising power is maneuvering to seize domination of the Galaxy in defiance of Seldon.
Part XVIII…
"See that the boy receives the best of care…Money is no object, as you saw, his brothers and I will arrange that." Pritcher grimly told the Trevlon doctor before him, Goldan already within the care ward of the hospital having used inserted aligorithms to arrange a series of severe complications to his various injuries.
"Of course, sir. Your friend will receive our very best." The doctor, a quietly competent man in his thirties, nodded. "As for the financial arrangements, your account is confirmed and quite satisfactory. You should be able to see him within a few hours."
"Excellent. I'll be staying on till he can travel, can you suggest a place to stay, something close to the hospital area? Again, money is not a concern."
"Stop by the front desk, the concierge will set you up. Good day, Sergeant Forbes." The doctor rose, offering a hand.
"Thanks, doctor." Pritcher firmly shook the proffered hand. "I'll be back later this afternoon to see Gile."
He left the office and headed, striding firmly, bearing erect, down the hall for the front desk where he paused to make living arrangements with the concierge, she recommending a nice, simple place one block from the medical center in a charming, wooded area. He agreed and signed a two-week lease via compad, then to all extents and purposes left the building.
His holoimage, emitting from a hoverbug device which issued Pritcher's matching bioreadings as well, vanishing once clear of security surveillance and entering a wooded area…While the real Pritcher, now outfitted in a tech's gown, copied from one he'd scanned, proceeded to a quiet storage room. Carefully manipulating his enlarged pad, he tapped into the center's system and within a few moments had its patients lists available.
Luckily no attempts at concealing identity had been made. Vargos, Lord Rox of, was listed as a permanent patient at the long-term care facility.
Hmmn…A degree of dementia, extent not listed, and multi-organ failure, stabilized but not curable, at least for several. Not that surprising for a man listed as one hundred-sixteen. Expectancy of life, if you could call it living, one hundred twenty-six to one hundred-thirty.
Of Vargos. Lord Rox. An Imperial title, not some cheap warlord's pinned on thing. Vargos…Prither searched.
Ah…An Imperial provincial capital…One of the last near-Trantor provinces to fail after the rebellion of Gelimer and the Great Sack. The man had once been quite high in Imperial affairs under the collapsing Late Empire, a trusted official of Dagobert VIII. But apparently fallen on harsher times after the fall of his provincial capital and military base. Not long before Trantor itself had been taken and the last Emperors fled.
There it was… A small note on the pirate leader, Vargos, self-styled Lord Vargos. Active about forty years, in various sectors. Colorful life this one's had, Pritcher thought. From Imperial governor and advisor to pirate band leader, to this…
And a friend of the Mule…Or at least an associate…To boot. Placed here rather than killed, suggesting the Mule felt some affection for the man.
And the Mule had begun as a pirate leader…
Time to try and see if the former governor/pirate might remember his old associate…However vaguely.
….
Paramecia…
Cal Lacy's Place…The office where the proprietor, Callia Lacy, once a rather crude, somewhat overweight, fairly loud, and violent but quite effective pirate leader turned ruthless but effective "entertainment center"/brothel owner, now an efficient, trim, decisive but calm-spoken agent of the Mule, only her dress and the occasional manner she effected with the unconverted clueless, suggesting she might not be your average properly respectable, capable, senior executive or military officer, was in conference with Major Harla Mallow, former Foundation spy and now one of the Mule's senior intel officers.
"There's no doubt it was the man…And a companion." Ms. Lacy noted to the Major, rotating the holoimage for her to see clearly. "Pritcher…" Major Mallow shook head. "And we nearly had him…?"
"Captain Schofax of the Roxia had signed him and the friend on. Tried to get them to board early, but someone must have tipped them off or they got suspicious." Ms. Lacy sighed. "My deepest apologies, Major. I know he's an important man."
"You'd no way to know it was Pritcher and you alerted us as soon as his id was sent out from Union space. It's quite all right. But…" the Major frowned. "No way to know where his ship was headed?"
"We're guessing at that, it was his but it seems the most likely, given the time it was detected at jump." Caly eyed the displayed tracking data. "He and his companion simply vanished. Long-range jumps most likely."
"To the Foundation?" Major Mallow pondered the Galactic map on display before the two women.
"Likely but if Pritcher is as dedicated as you say, ma'am, he's probably still on the Mule's trail. There's no danger to the Mule, you think?"
"Not seriously, no." Mallow shook head. "But Han is very resourceful, it's why he'd be such a wonderful recruit. I only hope it doesn't become necessary to waste his talents as Herve Lida was wasted. The companion seems a fine man, too. Severely wounded, you're sure?"
"As sure as biosensors and eyes can be. It could be a deception, but it seemed a bit elaborate for that."
"We'll look into it. Another man of Pritcher's, likely helped him escape Kalgan. Well, we'll just have to seek them. You're right about one thing." Harla nodded. "Han Pritcher will stay on the trail." A buzzer sounded on Cal's table console.
"One moment, Major." She pressed to let a large, rather hulking fellow in.
"Trason, damn you! What is it, I've business here!" she cried at the man in loud bellow.
"Sorry, Cal. We got a crew asking for berth. Renson's men, you black-balled 'em after they tore up the second bar on their last stop."
"Well? So, did we lose our main blasters in a card game? Blow em out of space unless they leave!"
"Renson's offering double, says he'll keep his people in line."
"Double, eh? Tell him triple or we start firing. And he's personally responsible for any damage, meaning I'll take it out of his hide, myself." She eyed the man. "Tell Captain Renson that's the offer. And that I'm expect you to bring me his head if he doesn't accept it!"
"Ok, Cal." The man nodded, eyeing Major Mallow, currently in the clothes of a simple trading merchant.
"You got somethin' else, Trason?" Cal, annoyed tone. "Then get the Galaxy out and do like I told you. Now!"
"Yes, ma'am." Nod. Trason bowing out the door, Harla offering him a smile as he left.
"Sorry…Trason gets nervous without specific orders." Cal shrugged. "Well…All my people here will keep an eye out, just in case." she nodded. "As for our usual business…I've established sexual relations with three of the newer local warlords and resumed a relationship with Kiler Domas, the Lord of Margos, the best of them. He's actually managed to build a small fleet including fourteen restored old Imperial dreadnoughts. About forty warships in all plus another fifty converted freighters. Kept his position, no small feat in this sector, and he's managed to keep some technology and science going in the Margos system. A very capable man. He'd make a fine governor for the sector once converted." She noted.
"'Resumed'? Are you fond of him?" Harla smiled.
"I was, in my crude way. He's a clever man and quite good sexually." Cal smiled. "Was a bit astonished when I returned from Kalgan, forty pounds lighter, controlling my temper and treating my staff better, but he likes the change in me overall. Truly a good man for recruitment." The woman noted.
"Perhaps…Though I think personally you'd be a better governor. You know the Mule has been very pleased with you."
"I'm more useful to the First as Cal Lacy, running this place, I think,ma'am. But thank you." The woman smiled. "Anything I can do for the Mule and the cause of galactic unity is honor to me. Oh, I do have one request? I hesitate but it could be of use…" she eyed the major.
"Yes?"
"My son, Demeter, a boy about twenty-four, was a mercenary officer fighting on Rebos and was captured during a raid. He's quite capable and experienced, and now that Rebos is a part of the Union, I thought he might be included for conversion."
"Your boy, eh? Hard to imagine Cal Lacy with a son."
"I wasn't much of a mother to him. No idea who his father was. But I have been fond of him at times. Though I honestly believe he would be of service."
"I'll include his name in my report." Harla nodded.
"Thank you, Major."
"Thank you, Cal. The Mule can always use good people. I'm afraid though his conversion would have to await the Mule's return from the offensive."
"Of course…The Mule is safe? Not risking danger?" anxious expression.
"Unfortunately, to unite the Galaxy requires risk, so no...The Mule's on the front lines. But there's no better protection for the Mule than the Mule." Harla, solemnly.
"I know…."Cal, nervously. "But one worries."
"Yes, we all do. But the Mule will triumph and the Cause will be fulfilled."
"Yes, of course." Nod. "I will put my trust in the Mule. Oh, as for the Listeners' crop…" she turned to her console and quickly printed up a list on paper. "Here's the latest, they're berthed on Dock 34, in a freighter, five, all high scoring, four children, one, eighteen but the highest score in the lot." Smile.
"Excellent… Yes?" the Major eyed Cal's concerned face…
"Yes, Major…It's just I can't help feeling we should keep just a few here, rather than on Kalgan. We do have many travelers passing through. Pirate crews, merchants, mercenaries. There's always a chance a Second Foundationer is among them."
"I rather agree with you." Nod. "Suppose we return two of this bunch and a couple more as you find them, after conversion. But remember, all need to be fully converted. We can't take a chance the Second would sense them, try to grab them as recruits, and use their knowledge and abilities against the Mule and the Union."
"Certainly, Major. And thank you, for considering my requests." Cal nodded. "May you have good luck in your hunt."
…
"My Lord…" Pritcher stood by the large chair in the room. "I've been sent by the Emperor to see that you're well." He eyeing the large, white-haired man in the chair, the former Governor of Vargos, Lord Habarus Rox…Also former Councilor to the Emperors Dagobert VIII and IX…And the notorious, and some might have said, in his days on space, pretentious, pirate captain Lord Vargos. The man regarded Pritcher a moment as if trying to remember him. "Has Gelimer been defeated?" he asked.
"Yes, my Lord Rox…" Pritcher nodded. "The Emperor has returned to Trantor and hopes you'll be well enough to resume your post soon."
"Yes, yes…" Lord Rox waved hand vaguely. "He must see to it all of the traitors are punished, publicly. I will hunt them down as soon as I can."
"He knows that, my Lord. But there is a new menace, which you may have encountered. Have you word of the Mule, my Lord?"
"The Mule?" Lord Rox stared, suddenly stern. "Are you being funny, boy? The Mule…" frown. "Where is my ship? I must get to Trantor."
"It's waiting, my Lord. Though you must gather your strength yet. The Emperor needs you well."
"Yes…Has the crew made my cabin ready? Is my treasure there?"
"All's secure, my Lord." Pritcher noted, eyeing the man.
"Tell her I have a new toy for her…If she's a good girl, my treasure. But if she's not been good…"
"She's been very good, Lord." Pritcher, carefully. "About the menace my Lord…The Emperor is concerned."
"Yes, I have it in hand…" Rox waved a hand. "My crew follows me, no one tells me what to do. You tell Botal I expect him to obey orders. Who's ordered a course change?" he roused himself, rising a bit. "Well…If it's so…" he calmed. "Just see my treasure is safe. Botal? You dog!" he rose. "Did I say you might? Take him!" loudly.
"Lord Rox? Are you…" a figure in orderly's uniform, at the door. "Who are you, sir?" eyeing Pritcher. "This man's not well enough for visitors."
"Sorry…" Pritcher, hastily rising from his spot by Rox. "I came to see my old colleague and thought I'd tell him the news. I didn't know he was so ill."
"How did you get in here?" the orderly eyed him.
"The Emperor has sent an emissary to recall me." Rox noted, proudly. "I must be off within the hour, to Trantor." Firm tone.
"But I …" he paused, shaking head.
"I have my id...Here…" Pritcher pulled id pad and offered it, stunning the man as the orderly snatched at it.
"I must see alls secure here, with my treasure…Botal must be punished. Set on the course I gave you, damn you!" Rox cried suddenly. "I gave no such order! What do you mean? I'll not be…" he calmed. "All right…I'll be in my cabin. Obey orders, all of you. All of you…" he sighed.
"Yes, I'll tell you of the Emperor's palace, little one. One day, I'll take you and you'll see, I was a great Lord. A mighty one. And then none will dare harm you. Botal's dead and the others will never hurt or laugh at you again, don't cry. Don't cry. We shall never see Sayshell again. My poor treasure. We shall be happy on Trantor, the greatest doctors are there and they will make you whole. No…You'll not take my treasure!" he rose. "Only I know…Only I! You'll not…!"
Pritcher staring…No time. But…
"The Mule, Vargos? Did the Mule take your treasure?!" he tried.
"The power…The crew changed course." Rox gasped. "I had to hide my treasure…In my cabin…They would take it, animals, dogs! I am a Lord!"
Pritcher peered out of the room's door. No one in the hall yet but sounds down the way. He reluctantly headed out…And quickly made his way to an empty room where he quickly disposed of his tech's garb and emerged as Sergeant Forbes, come to see his old comrade, Gile…
On slipping in to Goldan's room he found the boy in his chair, having received his signal to make ready to flee. Ostensibly pushing his colleague out for a bit of air, the two quickly left the grounds and headed for the Trevlon hanger. It was only once the Herve was safely in space, readying for a jump to unsettled space en route to the Foundation that they heard a Trevlon news report that a madman had broken into a hospital room and assaulted an orderly after disturbing but fortunately not seriously harming an elderly patient.
One jump later, more or less safe in unsettled territory…Which of course might mean pirates, smugglers, or rather paranoid free settlers ready to kill anyone who might be encroaching on their territory…Goldan asked Pritcher as they both worked on calculations for the next Jumps…To an independent system, hopefully still out of Union hands, then the nearest Trader system, and then to the Foundation border, with any luck and avoiding stellar interiors on such long Jumps….If he'd gotten anything from Vargos.
"Lord Archchancellor and Governor of Vargos, Habarus Rox…" Pritcher used the full title.
"Nice. Did the ex-Archchancellor know anything?"
"Hard to say…The old man was pretty far gone. But he didn't seem to know much about the Mule. Unless the knowledge was blocked. Still…" Pritcher shook head. "He made it clear someone took over his crew, his fleet…Apparently without his being able to stop it. I'd say that was the Mule."
Hmmn… "He did say one thing… 'Never see Sayshell again'". Pritcher looked at Goldan. "I know it may be a long shot. We could just run for the Foundation. "
"Sayshell? That's two Jumps, not too bad. And it's independent, so far as we know. I'm game if you are, Captain." Goldan noted. "Archchancellor to pirate captain, huh? He must be quite a guy."
…
Trevlon Medical Center…
Major Mallow faced the chief Administrator in her full dress uniform of the Union, frowning…
"It was Pritcher, damn him." She eyed the holoimage taken and the id photo. "Is Lord Rox all right?"
"Within his limits…The visit actually may have done him some good, stirred a few memories."
"Well, your client expects you to take proper care of your charge. Not let any stranger stroll into his room and upset him, Doctor."
"We have normal security, checks every hour, Major. And Lord Rox was never disturbed before except by our client." Firm tone. "If you prefer he leave…"
"I prefer he be properly cared for. All right…" Harla leaned back. "I'll have some men in to guard him from now on and I expect to be informed when new patients come in."
"That's hardly…" the Administrator began.
"This facility is now under Union protection. If you care to argue take it up with my superiors. Your government here has agreed to join us in the Union."
"They might have considered the feelings of the populace." The Administrator reddened. "There was no consultation or vote."
"They felt a bombing and occupation would injure those sensitive feelings more." Harla, thin smile. "What does it matter, Adminstrator? Trevlon's bowed to every minor blowhard warlord in turn. Now the Union is come and that's that. You'll find us a better ruler than most. Now, if his condition will permit, I'd like to see the Lord Rox. May I? I'll need to be off world very soon."
"Fine. Bers? Take Major Mallow to see Lord Rox in his room. Try not to disturb him too much, Major."
"Certainly." Harla rose and followed the orderly out.
In Rox's room, where the old man had been mildly sedated and put to his bed, Harla approached carefully till she stood by his bedside. "Dear Vargos, beloved friend of the Mule…" she breathed. "Never think the Mule's forgotten you or your kindness. Or your dreams…The Empire will rise again. And the Emperor will sit on his throne, regardless of the Foundation. Regardless of the Second Foundation. Your treasure is safe, always." She kissed the old man's cheek and coming to attention, saluted him. Then, left.
…