Asimov’s Future History Volume 10

by Isaac Asimov

  Nadirhaba said coolly, “If we die, we die. We wouldn’t be Traders if we didn’t know that sudden death was the other side of big profits. And for this mission, we’re all volunteers. Just the same, it doesn’t hurt to know where the death’s coming from, Captain. If you’ve figured it out, does it have to be a secret?”

  “No, it doesn’t. The Solarians are supposed to have left, but suppose a couple of hundred stayed quietly behind just to watch the store, so to speak.”

  “And what can they do to an armed ship, Captain? Do they have a secret weapon?”

  “Not so secret, “said D.G.” Solaria is littered with robots. That’s the whole reason Settler ships landed on the world in the first place. Each remaining Solarian might have a million robots at his disposal. An enormous army.”

  Eban Kalaya was in charge of communications. So far he had said nothing, aware as he was of his junior status, which seemed further marked by the fact that he was the only one of the four officers present without facial hair of any kind. Now he ventured a remark. “Robots,” he said, “cannot injure human beings.”

  “So we are told,” said D.G. dryly, “but what do we know about robots? What we do know is that two ships have been destroyed and about a hundred human beings – good Settlers all – have been killed on widely separated parts of a world littered with robots. How could it have been done except by robots? We don’t know what kind of orders a Solarian might give robots or by what tricks the so-called First Law of Robotics might be circumvented.

  “So we,” he went on, “have to do a little circumventing of our own. As best as we can tell from the reports reaching us from the other ships before they were destroyed, all the men on board ship debarked on landing. It was an empty world after all and they wanted to stretch their legs, breathe fresh air, and look over the robots they had come to get. Their ships were unprotected and they themselves unready when the attack came.

  ‘That won’t happen this time. I’m getting off, but the rest of you are going to stay on board the ship or in its near vicinity.”

  Nadirhaba’s dark eyes glared disapproval. “Why you, Captain? If you need someone to act as bait, anyone else can be spared more easily than you can be.”

  “I appreciate the thought, Navigator,” said D.G., “but I will not be alone. Coming with me well be the Spacer woman and her companions. She is the one who is essential. She may know some of the robots; at any rate, some may know her. I am hoping that though the robots may have been ordered to attack us, they won’t attack her.”

  “You mean they’ll remember 01’ Missy and fall to their knees,” said Nadirhaba dryly.

  “If you want to put it that way. That’s why I brought her and that’s why we’ve landed on her estate. And I’ve got to be with her because I’m the one who knows her – somewhat – and I’ve got to see that she behaves. Once we have survived by using her as a shield and in that way have learned exactly what we’re facing, we can proceed on our own. We won’t need her any more.”

  Oser said, “And then what do we do with her? Jettison her into space?”

  D.G. roared, “We take her back to Aurora!”

  Oser said, “I’m bound to tell you, Captain, that the crew would consider that a wasteful and unnecessary trip. They will feel that we can simply leave her on this blasted world. It’s where she comes from, after all.”

  “Yes,” said D.G. “That will be the day, won’t it, when I take orders from the crew.”

  “I’m sure you won’t,” said Oser, “but the crew has its opinions and an unhappy crew makes for a dangerous voyage.”

  6. The Crew

  19.

  GLADIA STOOD ON the soil of Solaria. She smelled the vegetation – not quite the odors of Aurora – and at once she crossed the gap of twenty decades.

  Nothing, she knew, could bring back associations in the way that odors could. Not sights, not sounds.

  Just that faint, unique smell brought back childhood – the freedom of running about, with a dozen robots watching her carefully – the excitement of seeing other children sometimes, coming to a halt, staring shyly, approaching one another a half-step at a time, reaching out to touch, and then a robot saying, “Enough, Miss Gladia,” and being led away – looking over the shoulder at the other child, with whom there was another set of attendant robots in charge.

  She remembered the day that she was told that only by holovision would she see other human beings thereafter. Viewing, she was told – not seeing. The robots said “seeing” as though it were a word they must not say, so that they had to whisper it. She could see them, but they were not human.

  It was not so bad at first. The images she could talk to were three-dimensional, free-moving. They could talk, run, turn cartwheels if they wished – but they could not be felt. And then she was told that she could actually see someone whom she had often viewed and whom she had liked. He was a grown man, quite a bit older than she was, though he looked quite young, as one did on Solaria. She would have permission to continue to see him – if she wished – whenever necessary.

  She wished. She remembered how it was – exactly how it was on that first day. She was tongue – tied and so was he. They circled each other, afraid to touch. – but it was marriage.

  Of course it was. And then they met again – seeing, viewing, because it was marriage. They would finally touch each other. They were supposed to.

  It was the most exciting day of her life – until it took place.

  Fiercely, Gladia stopped her thoughts. Of what use to go on? She so warm and eager; he so cold and withdrawn. He continued to be cold. When he came to see her, at fixed intervals, for the rites that might (or might not) succeed in impregnating her, it was with such clear revulsion that she was soon longing for him to forget. But he was a man of duty and he never forgot.

  Then came the time, years of dragging unhappiness later, when she found him dead, his skull crushed, and herself as the only possible suspect. Elijah Baley had saved her then and she had been taken away from Solaria and sent to Aurora.

  Now she was back, smelling Solaria.

  Nothing else was familiar. The house in the distance bore no resemblance to anything she remembered even faintly. In twenty decades it had been modified, torn down, rebuilt. She could not even gain any sense of familiarity with the ground itself.

  She found herself reaching backward to touch the Settler ship that had brought her to this world that smelled like home but was home in no other way – just to touch something that was familiar by comparison.

  Daneel, who stood next to her in the shadow of the ship, said, “Do you see the robots, Madam Gladia?”

  There were a group of them, a hundred yards away, amid the trees of an orchard, watching solemnly, motionlessly, shining in the sun with the grayish well-polished metal finish Gladia remembered Solarian robots to have.

  She said, “I do, Daneel.”

  “Is there anything familiar about them, madam?”

  “Not at all. They seem to be new models. I can’t remember them and I’m sure they can’t remember me. If D.G. was expecting anything hopeful to come of my supposed familiarity with the robots on my estate, he will have to be disappointed.”

  Giskard said, “They do not seem to be doing anything, madam.”

  Gladia said, “That is understandable. We’re intruders and they’ve come to observe us and to report on us in accordance with what must be standing orders. They have no one now to report to, however, and can merely silently observe. Without further orders, I presume they will do no more than that, but they won’t cease doing so, either.”

  Daneel said, “It might be well, Madam Gladia, if we retired to our quarters on board ship. The captain is, I believe, supervising the construction of defenses and is not ready to go exploring yet. I suspect he will not approve your having left your quarters without his specific permission.”

  Gladia said haughtily, “I’m not going to delay stepping out onto the surface of my own world just to suit his
whim.”

  “I understand, but members of the crew are engaged in the vicinity and I believe that some note your presence here.”

  “And are approaching,” said Giskard. “If you would avoid infection –”

  “I’m prepared,” said Gladia. “Nose plugs and gloves.”

  Gladia did not understand the nature of the structures being put up on the flat ground about the ship. For the most part, the crewmen, absorbed in the construction, had not seen Gladia and her two companions, standing as they were in the shadows. (It was the warm season on this portion of Solaria, which had a tendency to grow warmer – and on other occasions, colder – than Aurora did, since the Solarian day was nearly six hours longer than the Auroran day.)

  The crewmen approaching were five in number and one of them, the tallest and largest, pointed in the direction of Gladia. The other four looked, remained standing for a while as though merely curious, and then, at a gesture from the first, approached again, changing their angle slightly so as to head directly for the Auroran three.

  Gladia watched them silently and with her eyebrows raised in contempt. Daneel and Giskard waited impassively.

  Giskard said in a low voice to Daneel, “I do not know where the captain is. I cannot distinguish him from the crowd of crewmen in whose midst he must be.”

  “Shall we retire?” said Daneel aloud.

  “That would be disgraceful,” said Gladia. “This is my world.”

  She held her ground and the five crewmen came closer in leisurely fashion.

  They had been working, doing hard physical labor (Like robots, thought Gladia with disdain) and they were sweating. Gladia became aware of the odor that reeked from them. That would have served to force her away more than threats would, but she held her ground even so. The nose plugs, she was sure, mitigated the effect of the smell.

  The large crewman approached more closely than the others. His skin was bronzed. His bare arms glistened with moisture and with shining musculature. He might be thirty (as nearly as Gladia could judge the age of these short-lived beings) and if he were washed and properly dressed, he might prove quite presentable.

  He said, “So you are the Spacer lady from Aurora that we’ve been carrying on our ship?” He spoke rather slowly, obviously trying to attain an aristocratic tinge to his Galactic. He failed, of course, and he spoke like a Settler – even more crudely than D.G. did.

  Gladia said, establishing her territorial rights, “I am from Solaria, Settler,” and stopped in confused embarrassment. She had spent so much time thinking of Solaria just now that twenty decades had dropped away and she had spoken with a thick Solarian accent. There was the broad “a” in Solaria and the rough “r,” while the “I” sounded horribly like “Oi.”

  She said again, in a much lower, less commanding voice, but one in which the accent of Aurora University – the standard for Galactic speech through all the Spacer worlds – rang clear, “I am from Solaria, Settler.”

  The Settler laughed and turned to the others. “She speaks la-di-da, but she had to try. Right, mates?”

  The others laughed, too, and one cried out, “Get her to talk some more, Niss. Maybe we can all learn to talk like Spacer birdies. “And he placed one hand on his hip in as dainty a manner as he could manage, while holding the other hand out limply.

  Niss said, still smiling, “Shut up, all of you.” There was instant silence.

  He turned to Gladia again, “I’m Berto Niss, First-Class Shipper. And your name, little woman?”

  Gladia did not venture to speak again.

  Niss said, “I’m being polite, little woman. I’m speaking gentlemanly. Spacer – like. I know you’re old enough to be my great-grandmother. How old you are you, little woman?”

  “Four hundred,” shouted one of the crewmen from behind Niss, “but she doesn’t look it!”

  “She doesn’t look one hundred,” said another.

  “She looks suitable for a little ding-donging,” said a third, “and hasn’t had any for a long time, I guess. Ask her if she’d want some, Niss. Be polite and ask if we can take turns.”

  Gladia flushed angrily and Daneel said, “First-Class Shipper Niss, your companions are offending Madam Gladia. Would you retire?”

  Niss turned to look at Daneel, whom, till now, he had totally ignored. The smile vanished from his face and he said, “Look, you. This little lady is off-limits. The captain said so. We won’t bother her. Just a little harmless talk. That thing there is a robot. We won’t bother with him and he can’t hurt us. We know the Three Laws of Robotics. We order him to stay away from us, see. But you are a Spacer and the captain has give us no orders about you. So you” – he pointed a finger –” stay out of this and don’t interfere or you’ll get your pretty skin all bruised up and then you might cry.”

  Daneel said nothing. Niss nodded his head. “Good. I like to see someone smart enough not to start anything he can’t finish.”

  He turned to Gladia, “Now, little Spacer woman, we will leave you alone because the captain doesn’t want you bothered. If one of the men here made a crude remark, that’s only natural. Just shake hands and let’s be friends – Spacer, Settler, what’s the difference?”

  He thrust out his hand toward Gladia, who shrank away in horror. Daneel’s hand moved outward in a flick that was almost too fast to see and caught Niss’s wrist, “First-Class Shipper Niss,” he said quietly, “do not attempt to touch the lady.”

  Niss looked down at his hand and at the fingers that enclosed his wrist firmly. He said in a low and menacing growl, “You have till the count of three to let go.”

  Daneel’s hand fell away. He said, “I must do as you say for I do not wish to harm you, but I must protect the lady – and if she doesn’t wish to be touched, as I believe she doesn’t, I may be forced into a position where I must cause you pain. Please accept my assurance that I will do all I can to minimize that.”

  One of the crewmen shouted joyously, “Give it to him, Niss. He’s a talker.”

  Niss said, “Look, Spacer, twice I told you to keep out and you touched me once. Now I tell you a third time and that’s it. Make a move, say a word, and I take you apart. This little woman is going to shake hands, that’s all, friendly-like. Then we all go. Fair enough?”

  Gladia said in a low choking voice. “I won’t be touched by him. Do what is necessary.”

  Daneel said, “Sir, with all due respect, the lady does not wish to be touched. I must ask you – all of you – to leave.”

  Niss smiled and one large arm moved as though to brush Daneel to one side – and to do it hard.

  Daneel’s left arm flickered and once again Niss was held by the wrist. “Please go, sir,” said Daneel.

  Niss‘s teeth continued to show, but he was no longer smiling. Violently, he brought his arm up. Daneel’s enclosing hand moved up for a short distance, slowed, and came to a halt. His face showed no strain. His hand moved down, dragging Niss’s arm with it, and then, with a rapid twist, he bent Niss’s arm behind the Settler’s broad back and held it there.

  Niss, who found himself unexpectedly with his back to Daneel, brought his other arm up over his head, groping for Daneel’s neck. His other wrist was seized and pulled down farther than it could easily go and Niss grunted in clear misery.

  The other four crewmen, who had been watching in eager anticipation, remained in place now, motionless, silent, mouths open.

  Niss, staring at them, grunted, “Help me!”

  Daneel said, “They will not help you, sir, for the captain’s punishment will be all the worse if they try. I must ask you now to assure me that you will no longer trouble Madam Gladia and that you will leave quietly, all of you. Otherwise, I very much regret, First-Class Shipper, that I must pull your arms out of their sockets.”

  As he said that, he tightened his grip on either wrist and Niss emitted a muffled grunt.

  “My apologies, sir,” said Daneel, “but I am under the strictest orders. May I have your assurance?�
�

  Niss kicked backward with sudden viciousness, but well before his heavy boot could make contact, Daneel had faded to one side and pulled him off-balance. He went facedown heavily.

  “May I have your assurance, sir?” said Daneel, now pulling gently at the two wrists so that the crewman’s arms lifted slightly up from the back.

  Niss howled and said, half-incoherent, “I give in. Let go.”

  Daneel let go at once and stepped back. Slowly and painfully, Niss rolled over, moving his arms slowly and rotating his wrists with a twisted grimace.

  Then, when his right arm moved near the holster he wore, he snatched clumsily at his sidearm.

  Daneel’s foot came down on his hand and pinned it to the ground. “Don’t do that, sir, or I may be forced to break one or more of the small bones in your hand.” He bent down and extracted Niss’s blaster from its holster. “Now stand up.”

  “Well, Mr. Niss,” came another voice. “Do as you are told and stand up,”

  D.G. Baley was standing at their side, beard bristling, face slightly flushed, but his voice was dangerously calm.

  “You four,” he said, “hand me your sidearms, one at a time. Come on. Move a little faster. One-two-three-four. Now continue to stand there at attention. Sir” – this to Daneel –” give me that sidearm you are holding. Good. Five. And now, Mr. Niss, at attention.” And he placed the blasters on the ground beside him.

  Niss stiffened to attention, eyes bloodshot, face contorted, in obvious pain.

  “Would someone,” said D.G., “please say what has been going on?”

  “Captain,” said Daneel quickly, “Mr. Niss and I have had a playful altercation. No harm has been done.”

  “Mr. Niss, however, looks somewhat harmed,” said D.G.

  “No permanent harm, Captain,” said Daneel.

  “I see. Well, we’ll get back to this later. – Madam” – he turned on his heel to address Gladia –” I don’t recall that I gave you permission to emerge from the ship. You will go back to your cabin with your two companions at once. I am captain here and this is not Aurora. Do as I say!”