"This sounds very much as though I'm being cross-examined, Dr. Venabili. I don't much like it."
"I can appreciate that, Dr. Leggen, but these questions have something to do with Dr. Seldon's misadventure. It may be that this whole affair is more complicated than I had thought."
"In what way?" A new edge entered his voice. "Do you intend to raise new questions, requiring new apologies? In that case, I may find it necessary to withdraw."
"Not, perhaps, before you explain how it is you do not find a hovering jet-down a bit peculiar."
"Because, my dear woman, a number of meteorological stations on Trantor possess jet-downs for the direct study of clouds and the upper atmosphere. Our own meteorological station does not."
"Why not? It would be useful."
"Of course. But we're not competing and we're not keeping secrets. We will report on our findings; they will report on theirs. It makes sense, therefore, to have a scattering of differences and specializations. It would be foolish to duplicate efforts completely. The money and manpower we might spend on jet-downs can be spent on mesonic refractometers, while others will spend on the first and save on the latter. After all, there may be a great deal of competitiveness and ill feeling among the sectors, but science is one thing-only thing-that holds us together. You know that, I presume," he added ironically.
"I do, but isn't it rather coincidental that someone should be sending a jet-down right to your station on the very day you were going to use the station?"
"No coincidence at all. We announced that we were going to make measurements on that day and, consequently, some other station thought, very properly, that they might make simultaneous nephelometric measurements-clouds, you know. The results, taken together, would make more sense and be more useful than either taken separately."
Seldon said suddenly in a rather blurred voice, "They were just measuring, then?" He yawned again.
"Yes" said Leggen. "What else would they possibly be doing?"
Dors blinked her eyes, as she sometimes did when she was trying to think rapidly. "That all makes sense. To which station did this particular jet-down belong?"
Leggen shook his head. "Dr. Venabili, how can you possibly expect me to tell?"
"I thought that each meteorological jet-down might possibly have its station's markings on it."
"Surely, but I wasn't looking up and studying it, you know. I had my own work to do and I let them do theirs. When they report, I'll know whose jet-down it was."
"What if they don't report?"
"Then I would suppose their instruments failed. That happens sometimes." His right fist was clenched. "Is that all, then?"
"Wait a moment. Where do you suppose the jet-down might have come from?"
"It might be any station with jet-downs. On a day's notice-and they got more than that-one of those vessels can reach us handily from anyplace on the planet."
"But who most likely?"
"Hard to say: Hestelonia, Wye, Ziggoreth, North Damiano. I'd say one of these four was the most likely, but it might be any of forty others at least."
"Just one more question, then. Just one. Dr. Leggen, when you announced that your group would be Upperside, did you by any chance say that a mathematician, Dr. Hari Seldon, would be with you."
A look of apparently deep and honest surprise crossed Leggen's face, a look that quickly turned contemptuous. "Why should I list names? Of what interest would that be to anyone?"
"Very well," said Dors. "The truth of the matter, then, is that Dr. Seldon saw the jet-down and it disturbed him. I am not certain why and apparently his memory is a bit fuzzy on the matter. He more or less ran away from the jet-down, got himself lost, didn't think of trying to return-or didn't dare to-till it was well into twilight, and didn't quite make it back in the dark. You can't be blamed for that, so let's forget the whole incident on both sides.
"Agreed," said Leggen. "Good-bye!" He turned on his heel and left.
When he was gone, Dors rose, pulled off Seldon's slippers gently, straightened him in his bed, and covered him. He was sleeping, of course.
Then she sat down and thought. How much of what Leggen had said was true and what might possibly exist under the cover of his words?
She did not know.
Chapter 7 Mycogen
MYCOGEN-... A sector of ancient Trantor buried in the past of its own legends. Mycogen made little impact on the planet. Self-satisfied and self-separated to a degree...
Encyclopedia Galactica
31.
When Seldon woke, he found a new face looking at him solemnly. For a moment he frowned owlishly and then he said, "Hummin?"
Hummin smiled very slightly. "You remember me, then?"
"It was only for a day, nearly two months ago, but I remember. You were not arrested, then, or in any way-"
"As you see, I am here, quite safe and whole, but-and he glanced at Dors, who stood to one side-"it was not very easy for me to come here."
Seldon said, "I'm glad to see you.-Do you mind, by the way?" He jerked his thumb in the direction of the bathroom.
Hummin said, "Take your time. Have breakfast."
Hummin didn't join him at breakfast. Neither did Dors. Nor did they speak. Hummin scanned a book-film with an attitude of easy absorption. Dors inspected her nails critically and then, taking out a microcomputer, began making notes with a stylus.
Seldon watched them thoughtfully and did not try to start a conversation. The silence now might be in response to some Trantorian reserve customary at a sickbed. To be sure, he now felt perfectly normal, but perhaps they did not realize that. It was only when he was done with his last morsel and with the final drop of milk (which he was obviously getting used to, for it no longer tasted odd) that Hummin spoke.