“So you actually believe the story?”

“I am naturally biased. And yet, the glyphs in our family vault do indicate that my ancestor received an imperial Rose Cluster for‘services to guests in and beyond the empire. ‘ An unusual citation that I’ve never seen mentioned anywhere else.”

Hari stared at the dour bureaucrat, who was momentarily animated, not at all like a typical Grey Man. Of course the tale sounded like a lot of hokum. But what if it contained a core of truth? After all, Maserd came from a region that had strange animal types. Why not other kinds ofthinking creatures, as well?

Unlike his fellow passengers, Hari already knew for a fact that there existed another sapient race. One that had shared the stars with humans in secret ever since the dawn centuries. Positronic robots.

The galaxy is twelve billion years old,he thought.I suppose anything is possible.

He recalled the vicious meme-entities that had caused such havoc on Trantor, a year or so before he was chosen to be First Minister. Dwelling as software clusters within the Trantor data network, those self-organizing programs had surged into violent activity soon after Hari released the Joan and Voltaire simulated beings from their crystal prison. But unlike those two human sims, the memes claimed to be ancient. Older than the planet-city. Older than the Imperium. Far older than humankind itself.

They were angry. They said humans were destructive. That we had killed a universe of possibilities. Above all, they hated Daneel.

In defeating those software mentalities, and getting them exiled to deep space, Hari had done the empire a great service. He also breathed a sigh of relief, having eliminated one more unstable element that might have mucked up his beloved psychohistorical formulas.

And yet, here again was that same notion-of otherness. A whole line of destiny that had nothing at all to do with the spawn of Earth.

He felt an involuntary shiver. What kind of a cosmos would it be if such diversity existed? What would it do to the predictability that had been his lifelong goal…the clear foresight and crystalline window to the future that he longed for, but which stayed so elusive no matter how many victories he won over chaos?

“I wonder-” he began, not knowing for sure what he was about to say.

At that instant, his thought was broken by an alarm that blared from the yacht’s forward control panel. Red lights flashed, and Maserd bolted to find out what was wrong.

“We’re being scanned by a ship,” he announced. “They are using military-style targeting systems. I believe they are armed!”

Kers Kantun took station behind Hari, ready to rush the mobile chair toward an escape pod. Horis Antic stood up, blinking. “But who could have known we are even here!”

Suddenly, loudspeakers mounted on the wall erupted with a woman’s voice. The words were harsh and peremptory.

“This is the Imperial Special Police, acting under orders from the Commission of Public Safety. We have reason to believe that a probation-violating felon is on your craft. Heave to at once and prepare to be boarded!“

Everyone aboard the yacht expressed a different degree of dismay. Oddly enough, Hari found himself the one urging others to stay calm.

“Relax,” he said. “They are looking for me, and only me. I broke my agreement with Linge Chen, who probably just wants to make sure I’m not spreading doom-rumors again. It’s nothing to worry about, really. Psychosocial conditions are unchanged since the trial. I assure you they’ll do little more to me or to my project.”

“To space with your project!” Jeni cursed. “You can afford to take this calmly, but it means I’m gonna be dragged back and put on that boat to Terminus!”

Captain Maserd worked his jaw, clearly unhappy to have Specials come stomping aboard his yacht. But Horis Antic was the most upset, verging on tears.

“My career…my promotion…even a hint of scandal would ruin everything…”

Hari felt bad for the little man. And yet, in an odd way this might help Antic get something he privately wanted, a change in social class. An escape from the bureaucratic grind. Hari felt sure he could find a job for him with the Encyclopedia Foundation, which might easily use a soils expert. Of course that would mean accepting permanent exile to one world on the far periphery. But for company Horis would have thousands of the empire’s best and most skilled workers. Moreover, his descendants would be guaranteed exciting times.

“Let me talk to the police,” Hari asked Maserd, who had picked up the intership-caller. “I’ll explain that I fooled all of you. No one else needs to suffer consequences when we return to Trantor.”

“Hey,” Jeni objected, “weren’t you listening to me? I just said Iwon’t go back-”

“Jeni.”

Maserd spoke her name without a hint of sharpness or threat. It was enough though. She glanced at the captain and shut up.

Hari took the microphone.

“Hello, Special Police ship. This is Academician-Professor Hari Seldon. I’m afraid I’ve been naughty, I admit it. But as you can see, I haven’t been rabble-rousing or stirring up trouble here in deep space! If you’ll let me explain, I’m sure you’ll soon see just how harmless we’ve…”

His voice trailed off.The raucous alarm had erupted again!

“What now?” Horis Antic hissed.

The captain peered at his readouts. “Another ship has appeared on the detector screen. It came as if out of nowhere…and it’s fast!”

The loudspeakers carried panicky shouts from the police cruiser. Agitated demands for the newcomer’s identification. But there was only silence as the interloper raced closer at incredible speed. Maserd stared at the display, his tanned face blanching suddenly pale.

“Great space! The strangers…they’re firing missiles!”

Now the police commander’s amplified voice sounded frantic, shouting orders to evade and return fire. Looking out the main viewport, Hari glimpsed a distant flare of jets as the constabulary vessel desperately tried to maneuver, much too late.

From the left, a pair of bright trails streaked across the starscape, heading straight toward the police ship.

“Don’t…” Hari whispered.

It was all he had time to say before the missiles struck, filling the universe outside with fire.

They were still blinking, regaining use of dazzled eyes, when the loudspeakers bellowed a new voice, deeper and even more commanding than the first.

“Space yachtPride of Rhodia,heave to and prepare to surrender control. “

Maserd snatched the caller from Hari’s limp hand.

“Under what authority do you make such an impertinent demand!”

“Under the authority of power. You saw what we did to the Impies. Would you like a taste of the same?“

Maserd looked bleakly at his passengers. Turning the microphone off, he told them, “I cannot fight weapons like those.”

“Then run!” Kers Kantun insisted hotly.

Maserd’s hands did not move. “My vessel is fast, but not as quick as the trace I just saw. Only the best military ships can move like that.” He looked at Hari, offering the microphone. “Do you wish to be our spokesman again, Dr. Seldon?”

“It’s your call, Captain.” Hari shook his head. “Whatever these brigands want, it cannot possibly have anything to do with me.”

But as they found out, soon after magnetic clamps took hold and the airlock hissed open, he was completely wrong about that.