Free Foundation and Empire by Isaac Asimov Page A

instantly, drove the men under him unbendingly and adored his general unswervingly.
    And yet with that, he was of a sunny nature. If he killed a man in the line of duty without a scrap of hesitation, it was also without a scrap of animosity.
    That Sergeant Luk should signal at the door before entering was further a sign of tact, for he would have been perfectly within his rights to enter without signaling.
    The two within looked up from their evening meal and one reached out with his foot to cut off the cracked voice which rattled out of the battered pocket-transmitter with bright liveliness.
    “More books?” asked Lathan Devers.
    The sergeant held out the tightly-wound cylinder of film and scratched his neck. “It belongs to Engineer Orre, but he’ll have to have it back. He’s going to send it to his kids, you know, like what you might call a souvenir, you know.”
    Ducem Barr turned the cylinder in his hands with interest. “And where did the engineer get it? He hasn’t a transmitter also, has he?”
    The sergeant shook his head emphatically. He pointed to the knocked-about remnant at the foot of the bed. “That’s the only one in the place. This fellow, Orre, now, he got that book from one of these pig-pen worlds out here we captured. They had it in a big building by itself and he had to kill a few of the natives that tried to stop him from taking it.”
    He looked at it appraisingly. “It makes a good souvenir – for kids.”
    He paused, then said stealthily, “There’s big news floating about, by the way. It’s only scuttlebutt, but even so, it’s too good to keep. The general did it again.” And he nodded slowly, gravely.
    “That so?” said Devers. “And what did he do?”
    “Finished the Enclosure, that’s all.” The sergeant chuckled with a fatherly pride. “Isn’t he the corker, though? Didn’t he work it fine? One of the fellows who’s strong on fancy talk, says it went as smooth and even as the music of the spheres, whatever they are.”
    “The big offensive starts now?” asked Barr, mildly.
    “Hope so,” was the boisterous response. “I want to get back on my ship now that my arm is in one piece again. I’m tired of sitting on my scupper out here.”
    “So am I,” muttered Devers, suddenly and savagely. There was a bit of underlip caught in his teeth, and he worried it.
    The sergeant looked at him doubtfully, and said, “I’d better go now. The captain’s round is due and I’d just as soon he didn’t catch me in here.”
    He paused at the door. “By the way, sir,” he said with sudden, awkward shyness to the trader, “I heard from my wife. She says that little freezer you gave me to send her works fine. It doesn’t cost her anything, and she just about keeps a month’s supply of food froze up complete. I appreciate it.”
    “It’s all right. Forget it.”
    The great door moved noiselessly shut behind the grinning sergeant.
    Ducem Barr got out of his chair. “Well, he gives us a fair return for the freezer. Let’s take a look at this new book. Ahh, the title is gone.”
    He unrolled a yard or so of the film and looked through at the light. Then he murmured, “Well, skewer me through the scupper, as the sergeant says. This is ‘The Garden of Summa,’ Devers.”
    “That so?” said the trader, without interest. He shoved aside what was left of his dinner. “Sit down, Barr. Listening to this old-time literature isn’t doing me any good. You heard what the sergeant said?”
    “Yes, I did. What of it?”
    “The offensive will start. And we sit here!”
    “Where do you want to sit?”
    “You know what I mean. There’s no use just waiting.”
    “Isn’t there?” Barr was carefully removing the old film from the transmitter and installing the new. “You told me a good deal of Foundation history in the last month, and it seems that the great leaders of past crises did precious little more than sit – and wait.”
    “Ah, Barr, but they knew where they were