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."