Chapter 14

The council  chamber was full in a very literal sense  on the fourth day ofthe trial  of Hober Mallow,  Master Trader. The only  councilman absent wasfeebly cursing  the fractured  skull that had bedridden  him. The gallerieswere filled  to the aisleways and ceilings with those  few of the crowd whoby influence, wealth, or sheer diabolic perseverance had managed to get in.
The rest  filled the square  outside, in swarming knots  about the open-airtrimensional 'visors.
Ankor  Jael made  his way  into the  chamber with  the near-futile  aid andexertions of  the police department, and  then through the scarcely smallerconfusion within to Hober Mallow's seat.
Mallow turned  with relief, "By Seldon, you cut it  thin. Have you got it?""Here,   take   it,"  said   Jael.   "It's  everything   you  asked   for.""Good. How are they taking it outside?""They're wild clear through." Jael stirred uneasily, "You should never haveallowed public hearings. You could have stopped them.""I didn't want to.""There's  lynch  talk.  And  Publis Manlio's  men  on  the outer  planets?
"I  wanted to  ask you  about that,  Jael. He's  stirring up  the Hierarchyagainst me, is he?"" Is he? It's  the sweetest setup  you ever  saw, As Foreign  Secretary, hehandles the  prosecution in a case of interstellar  law. As High Priest andPrimate of the Church, he rouses the fanatic hordes?
"Well, forget  it. Do  you remember that  Hardin quotation you  threw at melast month? We'll show  them that the nuclear blaster can point both ways."The mayor  was taking his seat  now and the council  members were rising inrespect.
Mallow  whispered,  "It's my  turn  today.  Sit here  and  watch the  fun."The day's proceedings began and fifteen minutes later, Hober Mallow steppedthrough a  hostile whisper to the  empty space before the  mayor's bench. Alone beam of light centered upon him and in the public 'visors of the city,as well  as on the myriads  of private 'visors in  almost every home of theFoundation's  planets,  the  lonely  giant  figure  of  a  man  stared  outdefiantly.
He began easily and quietly, "To save time, I will admit the truth of everypoint made  against me by the prosecution. The story  of the priest and themob  as   related  by   them  is  perfectly  accurate   in  every  detail."There was  a stirring in the  chamber and a triumphant  mass-snarl from thegallery. He waited patiently for silence.
"However, the  picture they presented  fell short of completion.  I ask theprivilege of supplying the  completion in my own fashion. My story may seemirrelevant at first. I ask your indulgence for that."Mallow made no reference to the notes before him.
"I begin  at the  same time as the  prosecution did; the day  of my meetingwith Jorane  Sutt and Jaim Twer.  What went on at  those meetings you know.
The  conversations have  been  described, and  to that  description  I havenothing to add ?except my own thoughts of that day.
"They  were suspicious  thoughts, for  the events  of that day  were queer.
Consider.  Two people,  neither  of whom  I knew  more than  casually, makeunnatural and somewhat unbelievable  propositions to me. One, the secretaryto  the mayor,  asks  me to  play the  part  of intelligence  agent  to thegovernment in  a highly  confidential matter, the nature  and importance ofwhich has already been explained to you. The other, self-styled leader of apolitical party, asks me to run for a council seat.
"Naturally  I looked  for the  ulterior motive.  Sutt's seemed  evident. Hedidn't trust me. Perhaps  he thought I was selling nuclear power to enemiesand plotting rebellion. And perhaps he was forcing the issue, or thought hewas. In  that case, he would  need a man of his own  near me on my proposedmission, as  a spy.  The last thought,  however, did not occur  to me untillater on, when Jaim Twer came on the scene.
"Consider again: Twer presents  himself as a trader, retired into politics,yet I  know of no details  of his trading career,  although my knowledge ofthe  field  is  immense.  And  further,  although  Twer boasted  of  a  layeducation, he had never heard of a Seldon crisis."Hober Mallow  waited to let the significance sink  in and was rewarded withthe  first  silence he  had  yet  encountered, as  the  gallery caught  itscollective breath. That was for the inhabitants of Terminus itself. The menof the Outer Planets  could hear only censored versions that would suit therequirements  of religion. They  would hear  nothing of Seldon  crises. Butthere would be further strokes they would not miss.
Mallow continued:
"Who here can honestly state that any man with a lay education can possiblybe ignorant  of the  nature of a Seldon  crisis? There is only  one type ofeducation  upon the  Foundation that  excludes all  mention of  the plannedhistory of  Seldon and deals only  with the man himself  as a semi-mythicalwizard?
"I knew at that instant that Jaim Twer had never been a trader. I knew thenthat  he  was  in  holy orders  and  perhaps  a  full-fledged priest;  and,doubtless, that  for the three years  he had pretended to  head a politicalparty  of  the  traders,   he  had  been  a  bought  man  of  Jorane  Sutt.
"At the  moment, I struck in  the dark. I did  not know Sun's purposes withregard to  myself, but since he  seemed to be feeding  me rope liberally, Ihanded him a few  fathoms of my own. My notion was that Twer was to be withme on  my voyage as unofficial guardian on behalf  of Jorane Sutt. Well, ifhe didn't get on,  I knew well there'd be other devices waiting ?and thoseothers  I might  not catch  in time.  A known  enemy is relatively  safe. Iinvited Twer to come with me. He accepted.
"That, gentlemen  of the council, explains two  things. First, it tells youthat Twer is not a friend of mine testifying against me reluctantly and forconscience' sake,  as the prosecution would have you  believe. He is a spy,performing his paid job.  Secondly, it explains a certain action of mine onthe occasion  of the  first appearance of  the priest whom I  am accused ofhaving  murdered  ? an   action  as  yet  unmentioned,  because  unknown."Now there  was a  disturbed whispering in  the council. Mallow  cleared histhroat theatrically, and continued:
"I hate  to describe my feelings  when I first heard  that we had a refugeemissionary  on  board. I  even  hate  to remember  them. Essentially,  theyconsisted of wild uncertainty.  The event struck me at the moment as a moveby Sutt, and passed  beyond my comprehension or calculation. I was at sea ?
and completely.
"There was  one thing  I could do.  I got rid  of Twer for  five minutes bysending him  after my  officers. In his  absence, I set up  a Visual Recordreceiver, so  that whatever  happened might be preserved  for future study.
This was  in the hope, the wild but earnest hope,  that what confused me atthe time might become plain upon review.
"I have gone over that Visual Record some fifty times since. I have it herewith me  now, and will repeat  the job a fifty-first  time in your presenceright now."The  mayor  pounded  monotonously  for  order,  as  the  chamber  lost  itsequilibrium  and the  gallery roared.  In five  million homes  on Terminus,excited  observers crowded their  receiving sets  more closely, and  at theprosecutor's own  bench, Jorane Sutt  shook his head coldly  at the nervoushigh   priest,   while  his   eyes   blazed  fixedly   on  Mallow's   face.
The  center of  the chamber was  cleared, and  the lights burnt  low. AnkorJael,  from  his bench  on  the  left, made  the  adjustments,  and with  apreliminary  click,  a  holographic  scene sprang  to  view;  in color,  inthree-dimensions,   in   every  attribute   of   life   but  life   itself.
There  was  the missionary,  confused  and battered,  standing between  thelieutenant and  the sergeant. Mallow's image  waited silently, and then menfiled in, Twer bringing up the rear.
The  conversation  played  itself  out, word  for  word.  The sergeant  wasdisciplined,  and the  missionary was  questioned. The mob  appeared, theirgrowl  could be  heard, and the  Revered Jord  Parma made his  wild appeal.
Mallow drew his gun, and the missionary, as he was dragged away, lifted hisarms  in a  mad,  final curse  and a  tiny  flash of  light came  and went.
The scene  ended, with the officers frozen at  the horror of the situation,while Twer  clamped shaking hands over his ears,  and Mallow calmly put hisgun away.
The lights were on again; the empty space in the center of the floor was nolonger even  apparently full. Mallow, the real  Mallow of the present, tookup the burden of his narration:
"The incident, you see, is exactly as the prosecution has presented it ?onthe surface.  I'll explain  that shortly. Jaim Twer's  emotions through thewhole   business  shows   clearly  a   priestly  education,  by   the  way.
"It was  on that same day  that I pointed out  certain incongruities in theepisode to Twer. I asked him where the missionary came from in the midst ofthe near-desolate tract we  occupied at the time. I asked further where thegigantic mob  had come from with  the nearest sizable town  a hundred milesaway.   The  prosecution   has   paid  no   attention  to   such  problems.
"Or  to other  points;  for instance,  the  curious point  of Jord  Parma'sblatant  conspicuousness.  A  missionary on  Korell,  risking  his life  indefiance of both Korellian  and Foundation law, parades about in a very newand very  distinctive priestly  costume. There's something  wrong there. Atthe time,  I suggested that  the missionary was an  unwitting accomplice ofthe Commdor,  who was using  him in an attempt  to force us into  an act ofwildly illegal  aggression, to justify, in  law, his subsequent destructionof our ship and of us.
"The  prosecution has  anticipated this  justification of my  actions. Theyhave expected me to explain that the safety of my ship, my crew, my missionitself were at stake and could not be sacrificed for one man, when that manwould, in any case,  have been destroyed, with us or without us. They replyby muttering about the  Foundation's 'honor' and the necessity of upholdingour 'dignity' in order to maintain our ascendancy.
"For some strange reason, however, the prosecution has neglected Jord Parmahimself,  朼s an individual.  They brought  out no details  concerning him;neither  his birthplace,  nor  his education,  nor any  detail  of previoushistory. The explanation of this will also explain the incongruities I havepointed out in the Visual Record you have just seen. The two are connected.
"The prosecution  has advanced no details concerning  Jord Parma because itcannot.  That  scene you saw  by Visual  Record seemed phoney  because JordParma was  phoney. There never  was a Jord  Parma. This whole  trial is thebiggest  farce   ever  cooked  up  over   an  issue  that  never  existed."Once  more he  had to  wait for the  babble to  die down. He  said, slowly:
"I'm going  to show you the  enlargement of a single  still from the VisualRecord. It will speak for itself. Lights again, Jael."The chamber  dimmed, and the empty air filled  again with frozen figures inghostly, waxen  illusion. The officers of the Far  Star struck their stiff,impossible attitudes. A gun  pointed from Mallow's rigid hand. At his left,the Revered  Jord Parma, caught in  mid-shriek, stretched his claws upward,while the failing sleeves hung halfway.
And  from the  missionary's hand there  was that  little gleam that  in theprevious  showing  had flashed  and  gone.  It was  a  permanent glow  now.
"Keep your eye on  that light on his hand," called Mallow from the shadows.
"Enlarge that scene, Jael!"The  tableau bloated quickly.  Outer portions  fell away as  the missionarydrew towards the center  and became a giant. Then there was only a hand andan arm, and then only a hand, which filled everything and remained there inimmense, hazy tautness.
The  light   had  become  a  set   of  fuzzy,  glowing  letters:   K  S  P.
"That,"  Mallow's voice boomed  out, "is  a sample of  tatooing, gentlemen.
Under ordinary  light it is  invisible, but under ultraviolet  light ?withwhich I  flooded the  room in taking  this Visual Record, it  stands out inhigh relief. I'll admit  it is a naive method of secret identification, butit works  on Korell,  where UV light is  not to be found  on street comers.
Even in our ship, detection was accidental.
"Perhaps some of you have already guessed what K S P stands for. Jord Parmaknew his  priestly lingo well and  did his job magnificently.  Where he hadlearned it,  and how, I cannot say, but K S  P stands for 'Korellian SecretPolice.'"Mallow  shouted  over  the  tumult,  roaring  against the  noise,  "I  havecollateral proof in the  form of documents brought from Korell, which I canpresent to the council if required.
"And  where is  now  the prosecution's  case?  They have  already made  andre-made  the  monstrous  suggestion  that  I  should have  fought  for  themissionary in defiance of  the law, and sacrificed my mission, my ship, andmyself to the 'honor' of the Foundation.
"But to do it for an impostor?
"Should I have done it then for a Korellian secret agent tricked out in therobes  and verbal  gymnastics  probably borrowed  of an  Anacreonian exile?
Would Jorane Sutt and  Publis Manlio have had me fall into a stupid, odioustrap?
His  hoarsened voice faded  into the  featureless background of  a shoutingmob. He was being  lifted onto shoulders, and carried to the mayor's bench.
Out the windows, he  could see a torrent of madmen swarming into the squareto add to the thousands there already.
Mallow  looked about  for Ankor  Jael, but  it was  impossible to  find anysingle face  in the  incoherence of the  mass. Slowly he became  aware of arhythmic, repeated  shout, that  was spreading from a  small beginning, andpulsing into insanity:
"Long   live   Mallow   ?  long  live   Mallow   ?  long  live   Mallow?