Chapter 6

Gorov was  released on  the thirtieth day,  and five hundred  pounds of theyellowest gold  took his place.  And with him was  released the quarantinedand untouched abomination that was his ship.
Then, as  on the journey into  the Askonian system, so  on the journey out,the   cylinder  of  sleek   little  ships   ushered  them  on   their  way.
Ponyets watched the dimly sun-lit speck that was Gorov's ship while Gorov'svoice   pierced   through  to   him,   clear   and  thin   on  the   tight,distortion-bounded ether-beam.
He was saying, "But it isn't what's wanted, Ponyets. A transmuter won't do.
Where did you get one, anyway?""I  didn't," Ponyets  answer was  patient. "I  juiced it  up out of  a foodirradiation chamber.  It isn't  any good, really. The  power consumption isprohibitive on  any large  scale or the Foundation  would use transmutationinstead of  chasing all over the  Galaxy for heavy metals.  It's one of thestandard tricks every trader  uses, except that I never saw an iron-to-goldone  before.  But  it's  impressive,  and  it works  ? very  temporarily.""All right. But that particular trick is no good.""It got you out of a nasty spot.""That is  very far  from the point.  Especially since I've got  to go back,once we shake our solicitous escort.""Why?""You yourself explained it  to this politician of yours," Gorov's voice wason edge.  "Your entire sales-point  rested on the fact  that the transmuterwas a means to  an end, but of no value in itself?  that he was buying thegold,  not the  machine.  It was  good psychology,  since it  worked, but?
"But?" Ponyets urged blandly and obtusely.
The  voice from the  receiver grew shriller,  "But we  want to sell  them amachine  of value  in  itself, something  they  would want  to use  openly;something that would tend  to force them out in favor of nuclear techniquesas a matter of self-interest.""I understand all that,"  said Ponyets, gently. "You once explained it. Butlook at  what follows  from my sale,  will you? As long  as that transmuterlasts, Pherl  will coin gold; and  it will last long  enough to buy him thenext   election.    The   present   Grand   Master    won't   last   long.""You count on gratitude?" asked Gorov, coldly.
"No ? on intelligent  self-interest. The transmuter gets  him an election;other mechanisms?
"No! No!  Your premise is twisted. It's not  the transmuter, he'll credit ?
it'll be the good, old-fashioned gold. That's what I'm trying to tell you."Ponyets grinned  and shifted  into a more comfortable  position. All right.
He'd  baited the  poor fellow  sufficiently. Gorov  was beginning  to soundwild.
The trader  said, "Not so fast, Gorov. I  haven't finished. There are othergadgets already involved."There was  a short  silence. Then, Gorov's voice  sounded cautiously, "Whatother gadgets?"Ponyets  gestured  automatically  and  uselessly, "You  see  that  escort?""I   do,"   said   Gorov   shortly.   "Tell  me   about   those   gadgets.""I will,  杋f you'll  listen. That's Pherl's  private navy escorting  us; aspecial  honor to  him from the  Grand Master.  He managed to  squeeze thatout.""So?""And  where do  you  think he's  taking us?  To his  mining estates  on theoutskirts of Askone, that's  where. Listen!" Ponyets was suddenly fiery, "Itold you I was in this to make money, not to save worlds. All right. I soldthat transmuter for nothing. Nothing except the risk of the gas chamber andthat doesn't count towards the quota.""Get  back  to  the  mining  estates,  Ponyets.  Where do  they  come  in?""With the profits. We're  stacking up on tin, Gorov. Tin to fill every lastcubic foot  this old scow can scrape up, and then  some more for yours. I'mgoing down  with Pherl  to collect, old  man, and you're going  to cover mefrom  upstairs with  every gun  you've got  ?just  in case Pherl  isn't assporting  about the  matter as  he lets  on to  be. That tin's  my profit.""For the transmuter?""For  my entire  cargo  of nucleics.  At  double price,  plus a  bonus." Heshrugged, almost  apologetically. "I  admit I gouged  him, but I've  got tomake quota, don't I?"Gorov  was evidently  lost.  He said,  weakly, "Do  you  mind explaining'?""What's there to explain? It's obvious, Gorov. Look, the clever dog thoughthe had me in a foolproof trap, because his word was worth more than mine tothe  Grand Master.  He took  the transmuter.  That was  a capital  crime inAskone. But  at any time he  could say that he had lured  me on into a trapwith  the purest  of  patriotic motives,  and denounce  me  as a  seller offorbidden things.""That was obvious.""Sure, but  word against simple word  wasn't all there was  to it. You see,Pherl   had   never  heard   nor   conceived   of  a   microfilm-recorder."Gorov laughed suddenly.
"That's  right," said  Ponyets.  "He had  the  upper hand.  I was  properlychastened.  But when  I set  up the  transmuter for  him in  my whipped-dogfashion, I incorporated the  recorder into the device and removed it in thenext day's  overhaul. I had a perfect record  of his sanctum sanctorum, hisholy-of-holies, with  he himself, poor Pherl,  operating the transmuter forall the ergs it  had and crowing over his first piece of gold as if it werean egg he had just laid.""You showed him the results?""Two days later. The  poor sap had never seen three-dimensional color-soundimages in his life.  He claims he isn't superstitious, but if I ever saw anadult look as scared  as he did then, call me rookie. When I told him I hada  recorder planted  in the  city square, set  to go  off at midday  with amillion  fanatical   Askonians  to  watch,  and   to  tear  him  to  piecessubsequently, he  was gibbering at my knees in half  a second. He was readyto make any deal I wanted.""Did  you?"  Gorov's voice  was  suppressing  laughter. "I  mean, have  oneplanted in the city square.""No, but  that didn't  matter. He made  the deal. He bought  every gadget Ihad,  and every  one you had  for as much  tin as  we could carry.  At thatmoment, he believed me capable of anything. The agreement is in writing andyou'll have a copy  before I go down with him, just as another precaution.""But  you've damaged  his  ego," said  Gorov.  "Will he  use the  gadgets?""Why not? It's his  only way of recouping his losses, and if he makes moneyout of  it, he'll salve his  pride. And he will be  the next Grand Master ?
and the best man we could have in our favor.""Yes,"  said  Gorov, "it  was  a good  sale.  Yet you've  certainly got  anuncomfortable sales technique. No wonder you were kicked out of a seminary.
Have you no sense of morals?""What  are the odds?"  said Ponyets,  indifferently. "You know  what SalvorHardin said about a sense of morals."