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Ihjel was killed with an ion gun and it fused the control unit into a solid lump. We must take the car and get to the city. We'll do it now. See if you can stand up I'll help you." She rose, not saying anything, and as they walked towards the car a single, reddish moon cleared the hills behind them. In its light Brion saw a dark line bisecting the rear panel of the sand car. He stopped abruptly.
"Why did you lie to her about the Foundation?" "Because it's a secret isn't that reason enough?" Ihjel rumbled angrily, scraping the last dregs from the bowl. "Better eat something. Build up the strength. The Foundation has to maintain its undercover status if it is going to accomplish anything. If she returns to Earth after this it's better that she should know nothing of our real work.
You will have to face a big universe out there, and I don't blame you for being a little frightened." Someone was hammering loudly on the door. "I haven't the strength to get angry," Brion said hoarsely. "And I can't bring myself to admire your ideas when they permit you to insult a man too ill to defend himself." "I apologize," Ihjel said, with no hint of apology or sympathy in his voice.
Or used subliminal vocalization like the villain in Cerebrus Chained. Brion could find no adequate reason on which to base his suspicions. But he knew, with sure positiveness, that Ihjel was responsible. He whistled at the sound-switch next to his pillow and the repaired communicator came to life. The duty nurse appeared in the small screen.
Of course it couldn't happen that way. Yet, since it had happened, there must be a simple explanation. "We can beat this back and forth all day," Ihjel told him, "and you won't get the right idea unless " He broke off suddenly, staring at the communicator. The operation light had come on, though the screen stayed dark. Ihjel reached down a meaty hand and pulled loose the recently connected wires.
"They're knocking, so I must be going soon. I have no time for details, but I can assure you upon my word of honor as a Winner that there is something you can do. Only you. If you help me we might save seven million human lives. That is a fact." The lock burst and the door started to open. Ihjel shouldered it back into the frame for a final instant. "Here is the idea I want you to consider.
When the message was typed by the decoder Ihjel hovered over it, reading each word as it appeared on the paper. When it was finished he only snorted and went below to the galley. Brion pulled the message out of the machine and read it. Dropping into the darkness was safe enough. It was done on instruments, and the Disans were thought to have no detection apparatus.
"Agreed. And a very good argument in the long run. But not one that is going to tempt me out of this bed within the next three hours." "A point of success," Ihjel said. "You agree with the general argument. Now I apply it specifically to you. Here is the statement I intend to prove. There exists a planet with a population of seven million people.
The wonder of it is how you managed to convince him that you and the ship here could take care of me as well as his hospital could." "I could never convince him of that," Ihjel said. "But I and the Cultural Relationships Foundation have some powerful friends on Anvhar. I'm forced to admit I brought a little pressure to bear."
The doors of his senses were pushed wide and he was overwhelmed. "Dis ..." Ihjel said aloud. "Seven million people ... hydrogen bombs ... Brion Brandd." These were just key words, landmarks of association. With each one Brion felt the rushing wave of the other man's emotions. There could be no lies here Ihjel was right in that.
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