Asimov's Future History Volume 2

by Isaac Asimov

  “I suspect you are right,” said Hunter. “However, that may be just as well. We might have a better chance to catch MC 2 if he cannot approximate my position from measuring the strength of my radio signal and my movements.” As he spoke, he continued to look in all directions on a regular basis.

  “Hunter,” said Steve. “I’m no historian like Rita, but I think I understand how this town operates. People know a lot more than they tell strangers and they’re all suspicious of authority. Bribes and payment for information will probably work a lot better here than just walking around asking polite questions.”

  “My data tell me that bribes are illegal and ethically objectionable,” said Hunter. “Of course, I realize that laws and customs may be different here, but if they are wrong because humans would be harmed —”

  “Think of it this way, Hunter,” said Jane quickly. “This buccaneer society is a barely functioning anarchy. Further, it’s definitely a free port with a laissez-faire economy. You have all these terms in your stored data, I’m sure.”

  “Yes. I understand what you mean.”

  “Good. Then you’re using these more technical terms now to access your data on human societies.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then in order to accept Steve’s advice under the First Law, I think all you have to understand is that this system worked to some degree in this time and place in history. How does that strike you?”

  “I see what you mean,” said Hunter. “But for the moment, bribery will not be necessary.” He stopped where he was, looking out into the bay.

  “What is it, Hunter?” Steve looked, too, but he couldn’t tell where, among all the ships out in the harbor, Hunter was focusing his attention.

  Hunter pointed. “Your unmagnified human vision cannot recognize faces from this distance, but you can see the dinghy that has rowed up to the second ship from the left.”

  “I see it,” said Jane. “Who’s in it?”

  “Roland, Rita, and MC 2 are climbing from the dinghy up to the deck of the ship on a rope ladder. Two other men are holding the boat steady for them.”

  “You’re sure it’s MC 2?” Jane asked.

  “He is identical to MC 1.”

  “They’re going on board a pirate ship?” Steve was amazed. “What does she think she’s doing?”

  “She’s on a great adventure,” said Jane, grimly. “And she’s the one who doesn’t believe that any actions except the most significant ones can change history, especially from this little backwater town.”

  “At least she has the freedom of human judgment,” said Hunter. “I am more afraid of MC 2. He may feel that under the First Law he must break up fights — I feel that impulse strongly myself. He is more likely than she to change history, I think.”

  “We can’t just let them go,” said Steve. “How are we going to follow them?”

  Wayne stood near the far end of the docks by a stack of barrels of pitch, catching his breath after a long, frantic run in the humid midday heat. He had seen the dinghy being rowed out into the bay with Roland and MC 2 when it was still close enough for the passengers to be recognized. Desperately, he had tried to push his way through the crowd, shouting for them to stop. No one in the dinghy had even turned to look, though, and he was sure they had not been able to hear him. He had not recognized the others in the boat.

  “Roland,” Wayne muttered in puzzlement. “What possible reason could you have for running off with MC 2?”

  He was still watching in frustration as the dinghy slowly drew up to one of the ships in the harbor. Then suddenly a possibility occurred to him. If Roland had figured out that MC 2 always protected humans and obeyed orders, then he might want to keep him around. MC 2 would make a perfect servant and bodyguard for a buccaneer. However, if that were true, then Roland had no intention now of bringing MC 2 back to Wayne.

  “Lousy pirate,” Wayne said angrily. “Can’t trust him. Now I’ll have to get MC 2 back myself. Well … at least I know where he is.”

  Steve helplessly watched the dinghy being hoisted on board the ship. “We’re going to lose them, Hunter, if we just stand here.”

  “The name of the ship is the Hungry Hawk,” said Hunter. “I can read it painted on the side. But I do not have the money to hire a ship to follow them. Nor can we expect to get it.”

  “I have an idea,” said Steve. “But hear me out, okay? You might not like it at first.”

  “Agreed,” said Hunter.

  “Can’t we get enough lumber for a small, fast-moving sailboat? I can give you a modern design and you can calculate the exact specifications we’ll need.”

  “A modern design might catch on,” said Hunter. “And change the course of sailing technology in history.”

  “No! That’s my point — when we’re finished with it, we’ll destroy it — sink it or take it apart. We won’t leave any evidence.”

  “What type of design do you have in mind?”

  “A small outrigger,” said Steve. “It will only have to carry the three of us and some drinking water and food. For speed, we’ll want a high mast and a deep keel to balance it. The outrigger design can give us greater stability than we would have otherwise — that’s the part that no one here in Jamaica right now is using.”

  “I have accessed some data on sailing design,” said Hunter. “I believe we might have enough money to buy the lumber for such a boat. I also see that the outrigger may well work, but I fear that someone will see the idea behind it and try to use it in the near future. It is the concept, not the exact design, that is important and might trigger a change in history.”

  “I wish we had our historian here,” said Jane. “She hasn’t been any help since she sneaked away. But really, Hunter, I doubt that the outrigger idea would be used here anyway because it isn’t necessary.”

  “How’s that?” Steve looked at her.

  “My study of robotics included some history of technological development. Technological change is related to need as well as to concept. For instance, much of the sailing technology that was used by the early explorers in Columbus’s generation had been in use for a century already in Dutch windmills. It only came into sailing use after the desire to explore by sea became more intense following the fall of Constantinople.”

  “In other words,” said Steve, “you think people here won’t care about the outrigger because the ships they already have are doing what they need.”

  “Well, yes. I guess I was a little long-winded, huh?” She smiled self-consciously. “What do you think, Hunter?”

  “I understand,” said Hunter.

  “Shall we try it?” Steve asked.

  “Yes. We must find a place to buy the lumber. I will calculate our exact material requirements as we go.”

  Rita stood with MC 2 by the rail, out of the way of the crew, as the ship set sail. She watched the men in the rigging and on deck with fascination. None of the book learning she had acquired over the years could replace actually standing on the deck with them, breathing the salt air and listening to the wood creak under the pressure of the sea and the wind.

  “We have a good wind.” Roland strode up to them, grinning. “I helped a little just to take part, but they don’t need me. As the captain said, they had a full crew before we came aboard.” He looked at MC 2. “So, Shorty. You like going to sea?”

  “Yes,” said MC 2.

  “Where are you from, friend? Old England, or one of the colonies?” Roland spoke casually, but he was watching MC 2’s face carefully.

  “A colony,” said MC 2.

  “Which one?”

  “Virginia.”

  “Virginia.” Roland thought a moment. “That’s up on the mainland coast, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “How long have you been in Jamaica?”

  “Not long.”

  Roland watched him a moment, then just gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder and turned to watch Port Royal slowly shrink behind them.

  R
ita guessed that MC 2 was being careful under the Third Law of Robotics, which required him to protect himself if he could do so without violating the other two Laws. That would explain his reluctance to converse. She didn’t know if he had really been manufactured in Virginia or not, of course, but it was possible.

  She turned her back on both Roland and MC 2 and gazed out to the open sea.

  10

  WAYNE KNEW HE had very little time to follow the Hungry Hawk before it was lost on the open sea. His only hope was to find someone with a ship already outfitted who was willing to sail. He paced up and down one of the docks, squinting into the sunlight as he studied the ships.

  “No use,” he said to himself, finally. The distance was too great for him to see the kinds of details that would tell him if a ship out there was supplied for a voyage. He glanced around for the nearest tavern and hurried toward it, planning what he would say as he walked.

  The tavern was shadowed from the hot sun, of course, but the humid air was stale and motionless inside. Wayne blinked for a moment, waiting for his vision to adjust. Then he went to the bar and waved to the burly man behind it.

  “What’ll it be, mate?”

  “I’m looking for a man with a ship ready to sail,” said Wayne, keeping his voice low.

  “What’s his name?”

  “No, I mean, I want to find such a man. Can you help?” He leaned on the bar.

  “What’s in it for me?” The burly barkeeper wiped the bar idly with a damp cloth.

  “A cut from his end.” Wayne glanced around warily, though the place was almost empty. “I have word that the Hungry Hawk is after a fat Spanish merchant ship.”

  “Is he, now?” The barkeeper’s tone betrayed some real interest. “I did hear Quinn sailed ‘cause he was desperate for a little hard coin.”

  “What better time is there? But I know which way he went and where he’s headed.” That last part wasn’t quite true, of course, but Wayne knew he had to gamble.

  “That old Quinn. He just might do that. He’s a tricky one. Don’t shoot his mouth off like so many men in this town.” The barkeeper was silent a moment. “I know a man who might want to speak with you. But I’ll take my cut from both sides, thank you.” He held out his hand.

  Wayne knew he had no choice. “Don’t waste any time. The Hungry Hawk is already under sail.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his few remaining coins. “It’s all I have left,” he said, dropping them into the other man’s palm.

  “Better than naught. Stay right here.” The barkeeper walked down to the end of the bar and spoke quietly to someone mopping the wooden floor. With a quick nod, the other figure leaned the mop against the wall and darted out the back door.

  Wayne wiped sweat from his eyes and collapsed into a seat. Without any money left, he couldn’t pay for a drink at the bar or any food or lodging later. If his plan didn’t work, he would probably have no chance to catch MC 2. In order to survive he would be forced to return to his own time and risk getting caught in some trap back at the Bohung Institute.

  Through the open doorway, he could still see the Hungry Hawk sailing away. It seemed to move with painful slowness to someone accustomed to supersonic airplanes. Of course, speed was relative; a pursuing ship would be subject to the same winds.

  Wayne was starting to doze in the heat when he heard the sound of fast, hard footsteps clunking into the tavern. Startled, he sat up quickly. A man’s shadow was blocking out the sunlight.

  “Who wants me?” The shadow shouted, shifting shape slightly as he looked around in the nearly empty tavern.

  “What’s in it for me?” The barkeeper walked down the length of the bar toward him.

  “You’ll keep your throat whole. Now your man brought me over here with a story, but you’ll see no money from me until I’ve heard it all.”

  “He’s the one,” said the barkeeper, nodding toward Wayne.

  “Oh?” The man in the doorway came inside and glowered down at Wayne. He wore a broad-brimmed hat with several plumes on it; under the hat, long brown hair hung to his shoulders. His beard was full and shaggy; he wore a white linen shirt, black knee breeches and buckled shoes, and a cutlass swung at his side. “I’m Captain Mick Tomann of the Old Laughing Lady.”

  “Wayne Nystrom, Captain. Have a seat.” Wayne sat up, gathering his wits.

  Tomann sat down, watching him suspiciously. “You know of a Spanish pigeon, do you?”

  “Yes,” said Wayne. He didn’t, of course, but if he could grab MC 2 on the high seas, he could just take him back to his own time from there. “But the Hungry Hawk has already gone after it. I’m looking for a partner.”

  “What do I need a partner for?”

  “I can tell you where to find the prey.”

  “Quinn is headed northeast around the island, probably headed for the coast of Cuba. I saw that on my way here just now. Any fool can see that.”

  “Ah, but what if you lose him? I know where he’s going. And you’ll need time to get under way.”

  Tomann frowned at him, resting one hand on his cutlass hilt. “Not much time, matey. I have some supplies already on board for a voyage I’ve already planned. Any my crew is hanging about on the waterfront, with naught to do and spoiling for a fight.”

  “You have the ship and the crew and I have the information.” Wayne jerked his thumb toward the sea. “The Hungry Hawk is under sail even as we speak.”

  Tomann grinned suddenly, slammed his fist down on the table, and leaped to his feet. “Aye! Let’s go. The Old Laughing Lady is a schooner that can outsail that fat old brig on any sea, in any weather!”

  Wayne smiled with relief and stood up. The barkeeper came forward.

  “Captain,” said the barkeeper. “Since I brought you two together, I believe a consideration for your humble servant is in order here.”

  Tomann whirled on him, drawing his cutlass in a wild, sweeping motion. The barkeeper jumped back.

  “We shall see, my humble friend. If the pigeon is found heavy in the water, I shall bring a trinket back home for you. Until then, back away.”

  The barkeeper did so.

  “Come on, friend,” Tomann added to Wayne. “We have a crew to gather.” He sheathed his cutlass and strode out.

  Wayne hurried after him.

  Steve grinned as he trotted after Hunter. The big robot was carrying a massive armload of lumber on one shoulder, under the front end of the planks. He was easily able to carry the load, but Steve was hustling along under the rear end of the lumber, pretending to help so that passersby wouldn’t notice just how impossibly strong Hunter was. In addition, Hunter was carrying a bunch of woodworking tools in his other arm.

  Jane walked alongside Steve, amused by the masquerade.

  Hunter kept walking after the docks ended. The trio wove their way through a variety of other work areas and warehouses along the water before they finally left the occupied areas behind. Then Hunter stopped and turned to look back over his shoulder, carefully checking to see that he did not strike Steve or Jane as he lowered his load to the sand.

  “I have devised a plan to work from,” said Hunter. “Partly from my stored data and partly from observing the ships in the bay. With these manual tools, I will be able to work much faster than either of you.”

  “I can still do whatever you say,” said Steve. “Even a few minutes saved will help in the long run.”

  “Agreed,” said Hunter. “I will give you specific tasks, since I have no way to convey the complete plan.”

  “You could draw it in the sand,” said Jane.

  “I dare not leave any record, even in sand,” said Hunter. “If anyone seems to take particular notice of our actions, please inform me.”

  “I can help, too,” said Jane. “I think.”

  “I do not doubt it,” said Hunter. “But I fear that a woman doing such work with us might attract attention in this time, and that would be unwise.”

  “I suppose.” Jane shrugged. “Then I�
��ll stand around and supervise.”

  “You cannot supervise without knowing the plan,” said Hunter.

  “That’s another joke, Hunter,” said Steve.

  “Ah. Was it funny?”

  “No,” said Steve. “Now, then. How do we start?”

  Hunter worked through the afternoon, doing most of the labor. He was not only faster than Steve, but also more precise in his work. Jane watched for company, but few people came so far from the center of the waterfront. Those who did walk by on the beach took no notice. Steve could see that among the buccaneers, minding one’s own business was a survival trait, and woodworking was common along the docks anyway.

  “There’s another one,” said Steve, standing up from a newly sawed board to wipe sweat from his face. “This climate is great for you, Hunter, because the sun beats down constantly on your solar collectors. But I need a break.”

  “Of course,” said Hunter, without looking up from his chisel and hammer. “Suit your own need, as you wish.”

  “I want to dunk myself in the water,” said Steve, turning to Jane. “Walk with me?”

  “Sure.”

  Steve wanted to talk to Jane alone for a moment. He led her to the edge of the water and they waded along the surf, away from Hunter. Steve knew that if Hunter wanted to monitor their conversation, he could turn up his hearing to do so; the robot could probably even filter out the sound of the breakers. However, Hunter probably wouldn’t bother.

  Steve put his arm around Jane and leaned close to her ear. “Any idea what our chances are now?”

  “Of catching MC 2, you mean?”

  “Yeah. I mean, snagging MC 1 was a lot simpler in the dinosaur age. No other humans lived in that time to complicate the search. Now we have all these pirates to worry about.”

  “That’s true, but this world isn’t as complex as ours. I think if we can catch that ship, we’ll still have a reasonable chance of finding MC 2.”

  “Even with all those pirates around?” He glanced back over his shoulder. Hunter was working hard, but of course he could be listening without appearing to be.