Chapter 7

Theo Aporat  was one of the very highest  ranking priests of Anacreon. Fromthe  standpoint of precedence  alone, he  deserved his appointment  as headpriest- attendant upon the flagship Wienis.
But it  was not  only rank or precedence.  He knew the ship.  He had workeddirectly under  the holy  men from the  Foundation itself in  repairing theship. He  had gone over the  motors under their orders.  He had rewired the'visors; revamped  the communications system; replated  the punctured hull;reinforced the beams. He had even been permitted to help while the wise menof the  Foundation had installed a device so holy  it had never been placedin  any previous  ship,  but had  been reserved  only for  this magnificentcolossus of a vessel ?a hyperwave relay.
It  was no wonder  that he felt  heartsick over  the purposes to  which theglorious ship  was perverted. He  had never wanted to  believe what Verisofhad told him ? that the ship was to be used for appalling wickedness; thatits  guns  were to  be  turned  on the  great  Foundation.  Turned on  thatFoundation,  where  he  had  been  trained  as  a  youth,  from  which  allblessedness was derived.
Yet  he  could  not  doubt  now,  after  what  the admiral  had  told  him.
How could the king,  divinely blessed, allow this abominable act? Or was itthe king?  Was it not, perhaps,  an action of the  accursed regent, Wienis,without the knowledge  of the king at all. And it was  the son of this sameWienis  that  was  the  admiral  who  five  minutes before  had  told  him:
"Attend  to your  souls and  your blessings,  priest. I  will attend  to myship."Aporat smiled  crookedly. He would attend to his  souls and his blessings ?
and  also to  his  cursings; and  Prince  Lefkin would  whine soon  enough.
He had  entered the general communications  room now. His. acolyte precededhim  and the two  officers in charge  made no  move to interfere.  The headpriest-attendant  had  the  right  of  free  entry anywhere  on  the  ship.
"Close the door," Aporat  ordered, and looked at the chronometer. It lackedFive minutes of twelve. He had timed it well.
With quick  practiced motions, he  moved the little levers  that opened allcommunications,  so that every  part of  the two-mile-long ship  was withinreach of his voice and his image.
"Soldiers of the royal flagship Wienis, attend! It is your priest-attendantthat speaks!"  The sound of his voice reverberated,  he knew, from the stematom  blast in  the  extreme rear  to the  navigation  tables in  the prow.
"Your ship," he cried, "is engaged in sacrilege. Without your knowledge, itis performing such  an act as will doom the soul of  every man among you tothe  eternal  frigidity of  space!  Listen!  It is  the  intention of  yourcommander to  take this  ship to the  Foundation and there  to bombard thatsource of all blessings  into submission to his sinful will. And since thatis his  intention, I, in the  name of the Galactic  Spirit, remove him fromhis command,  for there  is no command  where the blessing  of the GalacticSpirit has  been withdrawn.  The divine king  himself may not  maintain hiskingship without the consent of the Spirit."His voice took on a deeper tone, while the acolyte listened with venerationand the  two soldiers  with mounting fear.  "And because this  ship is uponsuch a  devil's errand,  the blessing of  the Spirit is removed  from it aswell."He lifted  his arms  solemnly, and before a  thousand televisors throughoutthe ship, soldiers cowered,  as the stately image of their priest-attendantspoke:
"In the name of the Galactic Spirit and of his prophet, Hari Seldon, and ofhis interpreters,  the holy men of  the Foundation, I curse  this ship. Letthe  televisors of  this ship, which  are its  eyes, become blind.  Let itsgrapples, which  are its arms, be paralyzed.  Let the nuclear blasts, whichare its  fists, lose their function.  Let the motors, which  are its heart,cease to  beat. Let the  communications, which are its  voice, become dumb.
Let its ventilations, which are its breath, fade. Let its lights, which areits soul,  shrivel into nothing. In  the name of the  Galactic Spirit, I socurse this ship."And  with his  last word, at  the stroke  of midnight, a  hand, light-yearsdistant  in the  Argolid Temple,  opened an  ultrawave relay, which  at theinstantaneous  speed  of the  ultrawave,  opened  another on  the flagshipWienis.
And the ship died!
For  it is  the chief  characteristic of  the religion  of science  that itworks,  and  that  such  curses as  that  of  Aporat's  are really  deadly.
Aporat saw the darkness close down on the ship and heard the sudden ceasingof the soft, distant purring of the hyperatomic motors. He exulted and fromthe pocket of his long robe withdrew a self-powered nucleo-bulb that filledthe room with pearly light.
He looked  down at the two soldiers who,  brave men though they undoubtedlywere, writhed on their  knees in the last extremity of mortal terror. "Saveour souls,  your reverence. We are poor men, ignorant  of the crimes of ourleaders," one whimpered.
"Follow,"   said   Aporat,  sternly.   "Your   soul  is   not  yet   lost."The ship was a turmoil of darkness in which fear was so thick and palpable,it was all but  a miasmic smell. Soldiers crowded close wherever Aporat andhis circle of light passed, striving to touch the hem of his robe, pleadingfor the tiniest scrap of mercy.
And always his answer was, "Follow me!"He  found Prince Lefkin,  groping his  way through the  officers' quarters,cursing loudly for lights.  The admiral stared at the priest-attendant withhating eyes.
"There you are!" Lefkin inherited his blue eyes from his mother, but therewas that about the hook in his nose and the squint in his eye that markedhim as the son of Wienis. "What is the meaning of your treasonable actions?
Return the power to the ship. I am commander here.""No longer," said Aporat, somberly.
Lefkin looked  about wildly.  "Seize that man.  Arrest him, or  by Space, Iwill send every man within reach of my voice out the air lock in the nude."He paused, and then shrieked, "It is your admiral that orders. Arrest him."Then,  as he  lost his head  entirely, "Are  you allowing yourselves  to befooled by this mountebank,  this harlequin? Do you cringe before a religioncompounded  of  clouds and  moonbeams?  This  man is  an  imposter and  theGalactic  Spirit he  speaks  of a  fraud  of the  imagination devised  to?
Aporat interrupted  furiously. "Seize the blasphemer.  You listen to him atthe peril of your souls."And promptly,  the noble admiral went  down under the clutching  hands of ascore of soldiers.
"Take him with you and follow me."Aporat turned,  and with Lefkin dragged along  after him, and the corridorsbehind black with soldiery,  he returned to the communications room. There,he  ordered  the  ex-commander   before  the  one  televisor  that  worked.
"Order the rest of  the fleet to cease course and to prepare for the returnto Anacreon."The  disheveled  Lefkin,  bleeding,  beaten,  and  half  stunned,  did  so.
"And now,"  continued Aporat, grimly,  "we are in contact  with Anacreon onthe hyperwave beam. Speak as I order you."Lefkin made  a gesture of negation, and the mob in  the room and the otherscrowding the corridor beyond, growled fearfully.
"Speak!" said Aporat. "Begin: The Anacreonian navy?
Lefkin began.