Asimov's Future History Volume 2

by Isaac Asimov

  Jane looked at Hunter helplessly.

  “It is true that your duties have changed with each mission,” said Hunter. “However, your help has sometimes occurred in situations that were not predictable beforehand. You understand the challenges and the constraints under which the team works. I believe we still need your participation.”

  Steve shook his head. “I doubt it. You can keep Jane and Judy with you and concentrate on MC 4 and Wayne. I’d like to take my pay for the earlier trips and go on home.”

  “How can you just walk away like this?” Jane shouted. “We’ve all been working together. And you didn’t say anything at breakfast this morning to me. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I was still thinking about it,” said Steve, surprised at her vehemence.

  “You’re betraying all of us.” She turned her back angrily and folded her arms.

  “You hired me, remember? I didn’t take any special oath of loyalty. It’s a job. And you don’t need me to do it.” Steve turned to Hunter. “You remember when you came up to my place on the mountain?”

  “Of course,” said Hunter.

  “You needed someone familiar with the outdoors to make and maintain camp for your team in the age of dinosaurs. That was your basis for hiring me.”

  “Yes, that is correct.”

  “You don’t need that in Moscow in 1941. And you didn’t really need it in Jamaica.”

  “We needed you in Port Royal!” Jane whirled around again, making her long coat swirl. “Don’t you remember what we did together — sneaking up on pirate ships and getting into those sword fights? And jumping off to row ashore? What if I’d been alone, Steve?”

  “You wouldn’t have been in that situation without me to start with,” said Steve. “I’m glad I helped. But you know every mission is different.”

  “Your skills could have been necessary in Germany of A.D. 9, as well,” said Hunter. “The wilderness had many dangers. You did accompany Jane at important times. We did not utilize most of your skills, I admit, but we might have needed them.”

  “All right, granted,” said Steve. “But not in Moscow. Not in the time you’re going to visit now.”

  “You’ve been part of this team!” Jane insisted angrily. “Your companionship and experience are part of this team, too. How can you do this?”

  Steve just shook his head. “I don’t like the idea of being tied down. Hunter, send someone up to my shack with my pay. Judy, nice to meet you. Good luck, Hunter. Bye, Jane.” He turned toward the door.

  “Where are you going now?” Hunter asked.

  “Back home, of course.”

  “How will you get there?”

  “That’s my worry.” Steve slipped out the door of the room. The door closed behind him and his footsteps sounded quickly down the hall.

  Hunter watched Steve go, reviewing his past behavior quickly. Nothing Steve had said or done recently had revealed any desire to quit the team. He was as startled as Jane.

  “What are we going to do?” Jane asked quietly.

  “How important is he?” Judy asked. “As the newcomer, I don’t really know what’s going on.”

  “He is essentially correct,” said Hunter. “The tasks for which I originally hired him are no longer necessary. We shall go.” He hoisted the duffel bag and passed out some of the Soviet currency to Jane and Judy. “First I shall tend the console and then I shall help you both into the sphere.”

  Jane and Judy looked at each other in surprise. Hunter was aware that as humans, their emotions did not shift instantly. However, he saw no reason to delay their departure further.

  In a moment, Hunter had set the timer in the console. After Jane and Judy were safely inside the big sphere with the duffel bag, he climbed inside and shut the door. As always, the interior was dark and crowded. Then the sphere vanished.

  All three of them tumbled onto cold, hard ground in near darkness. The barest hint of sunset was still visible in the west. The sky was clear and the moon threw a gentle light. Their breath frosted in the icy air.

  Hunter turned up his hearing and infrared vision to scan the immediate area for danger. They were in open, barren land a short distance from the edge of Moscow. No one was near them. “We are safe for the moment.”

  “Where are we?” Judy got to her feet, brushing off her coat. “My ears are cold already.” She untied her scarf from her neck and moved it over her head, knotting it under her chin.

  Jane imitated her.

  “We are on the outskirts of Moscow,” said Hunter. “I brought us here to avoid appearing right in front of the local people.” He pointed. “The city is blacked out because of the war, but if you look that way, you can see some light leaking out of the shades of windows here and there.”

  “I see them,” said Judy.

  “Are you warm enough?” Hunter asked.

  “Yeah. And walking will help,” said Judy.

  “I’m okay,” said Jane. “But I wish Steve had come.”

  “The walk will not be as long as it looks,” said Hunter. He shouldered the duffel bag and they started.

  “Hunter, have you discussed the chaos theory of history with Judy?”

  “Not yet,” said Hunter.

  “I’m familiar with it,” said Judy, in a derisive tone. “But I just don’t buy it. Not every little, tiny event is going to change the sweep of major historical trends.”

  “In our experience, that has proved to be true of the most insignificant events,” said Hunter.

  “I don’t want to hear about any rigid rules,” said Judy. “Now, obviously, we won’t assassinate Stalin or Hitler; we probably couldn’t do it if we tried. Anything less than that is not likely to change the course of World War II from where we stand.”

  “You sound like Steve on this subject,” said Jane. “Except that you know your history.”

  “Only large-scale changes can alter the flow of history,” said Judy. “I see nothing wrong with an aggressive involvement with events while we’re here.”

  “I admit that the most extreme chaos theory of history has not been supported by our actions,” said Hunter. “In our first three missions into the past, we clearly caused certain changes by our very presence and behavior, even though the changes were all very minor. No identifiable changes occurred in our own time.”

  “Exactly my point,” said Judy.

  “Our remaining problem is this,” Hunter added. “None of us knows exactly when the threshold of change will be crossed. At some point, the sheer weight of the small changes may precipitate a major one. So we must remain very concerned about this principle.”

  “I just don’t see how the three of us alone can bring about that much change,” said Judy. “The threshold is pretty high, if you ask me.”

  “I shall point out an example pertaining to Egypt,” said Hunter. “During the Napoleonic Wars, a battle was fought in Egypt between the British and French. The French defeat was significant but not ultimately decisive. However, a French soldier digging a trench unearthed the Rosetta stone, which led to the later translation of ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics. That translation in turn gave archaeologists the ability to read important writings, illuminating many centuries of history.”

  “Yeah, I know about that,” said Judy.

  “I didn’t,” said Jane. “What you’re saying is that the chaotic result of the French campaign was extremely important in ways that had nothing to do with the war.”

  “Yes,” said Hunter.

  “We might argue that the Rosetta stone, or something similar, would have been found within a few decades anyway,” said Judy. “Or that making these translations of hieroglyphics did not, after all, make a real difference in the development of society and industry in our own time at all.”

  “Isn’t that an odd argument for a historian?” Jane asked. “To suggest that learning about history isn’t important?”

  “Wait a minute.” Judy laughed. “I’m just saying that importance is relative.”
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  “I submit the following,” said Hunter. “Many young people who will enter positions of importance in the Cold War that follows World War II were present in the Battle of Moscow. Altering which of them live or die could change the course of the Cold War, theoretically bringing about the global nuclear war that was in fact just barely avoided during the second half of the twentieth century.”

  “Well, I can see that argument. But maybe the individuals wouldn’t matter that much. Maybe the situation dictated decisions, not the individuals. Sometimes that happens.”

  “Our immediate concern is MC 4,” said Jane.

  “Yes,” said Hunter. “I believe that when MC 4 returns to full size, the First Law will drive him to interfere with the war if he can.”

  Jane nodded. “With MC 4’s background in ethics and morality, his interpretation of the First Law will probably have him focus on individuals who make decisions.”

  “Judy, where would that take him?” Hunter asked.

  “You’re saying he will attempt to interfere with those who give the orders and carry out the mass destruction,” Judy said slowly. “That could take him almost anywhere. Immense suffering takes place on both sides, on all levels. These two regimes both operated on fear and power emanating from the top. Decisions to cooperate and obey orders had to be made all the way down the command structure to the bottom.”

  “Sounds horrible,” said Jane.

  “It was,” said Judy. “Or, I should say, it is.”

  They walked in silence for a while. As they drew closer, Hunter observed the buildings of Moscow. Clearly, the city was not under attack tonight.

  “We must find shelter for the night,” he said. “Judy, where would this be most likely?”

  “Well, let me think a minute. We’re in the first week of December 1941. By this time, the German advance has been close to Moscow for several months. It has stalled right now, but Moscow has been bombarded. Many people have fled the city and others have been displaced by the destruction.”

  “Are you saying that shelter will be difficult to find?” Hunter asked.

  “No. Actually, thousands of people are living in schools and empty warehouses. Soviet factories have been moved east across the Ural mountains to get them away from the Germans, so lots of big buildings are empty. We should be able to join a crowd of people in one of them. After all, it’s only early evening. Everyone will still be awake.”

  “Good.”

  By the time the team had entered the city streets, Hunter could see that the city was still active in its relative darkness. Crowds of people were trudging home on the sidewalks from their daily responsibilities, a few laughing and talking but most quiet and exhausted. From behind all the drapes and shades in the windows, hints of light revealed that people were inside.

  Jane wrinkled her nose. “What’s the smell? Something’s burning?”

  “Coal,” said Judy. “They burn it to heat buildings. The smoke always smells like that.”

  “Yuck.”

  Judy nudged Hunter and pointed down one block, where a big truck with an open back had stopped. A large group of people, mostly women, were climbing down and going into the entrance of a building. Hunter changed direction and led his companions down to the entrance.

  Two dour men of average height but substantial girth stood by the doors in heavy overcoats and scarves, watching the crowd stream inside.

  “We should pose as a family,” said Judy quietly. “They will view us better that way.”

  “What do you suggest?”

  “Given our looks, let’s present you and Jane as brother and sister; I’ll be a cousin. And you must have some reason for not being in the army.”

  “What reason will work?”

  “Can you affect an exaggerated limp?”

  “Yes, I understand.” Hunter nodded and began to limp on his left leg. “This will fit perfectly with our possession of the military duffel bag. And it is time for us to switch to speaking Russian.”

  3

  WHEN THE TEAM reached the entrance to the darkened building, one of the men guarding it moved to block his way. “Yes, comrade? I have not seen you before.”

  “Our home is destroyed,” said Hunter. “We need a place to stay.” He hefted the duffel bag on the strap. “We have no other belongings now but this.”

  “Where was this home?” The other man glared suspiciously at him.

  “To the west of Moscow,” said Judy quickly. “On a collective farm. Overrun by the Germans, now.”

  Hunter could see that she had been caught off guard by the question. He did not respond, concerned that he might contradict something she would say. She still had the best chance of answering to the guard’s satisfaction.

  “The Germans have been in their positions for weeks. Where have you been until tonight?”

  “A warehouse,” said Judy. “It was too crowded. They threw us out.”

  “You are husband and wife?” The guard looked back and forth between them.

  “No,” said Hunter. He nodded toward Jane. “This is my sister.”

  “Yes,” said Jane. “Our parents died in the war.”

  “I’m his cousin,” Judy added.

  “And where did your parents die?” Jane hesitated. “I was so upset when it happened …” She turned to Judy uncomfortably.

  “We were on the run,” said Judy, with more confidence now. “They were killed somewhere along the highway from Minsk, near Smolensk.”

  “And where exactly was your collective farm?”

  “Just south of Smolensk.”

  “What was it called?”

  “The Smolensk Collective Number Two.” The guard studied her face for a moment, apparently without more questions.

  “You sustained an injury, comrade,” said the other man, more patiently. “What happened?”

  “My cousin was wounded in the Battle of Leningrad,” Judy said proudly. “He was nearly killed. When he could walk, they sent him home to take care of us.”

  “Welcome, comrade,” said the second man. “Let them in, Yevgeny. We cannot have them freeze all night.”

  The first man nodded and stepped aside.

  Hunter led his team inside. They found themselves in a very large, single room that took up the entire ground floor. Two stories high, with windows that had been painted black, it was already crowded. A few people had brought chairs or cots, but most were spreading blankets on the bare wooden floor to mark their personal territory.

  “Looks like a warehouse,” said Judy. “It probably housed industrial materials that were shipped east with the factory equipment.”

  “People are favoring the sides and the front,” said Hunter. “The back corners are not taken yet. Let us move there quickly and take one for its relative privacy.”

  Hunter patiently picked his way through the crowded room to the right rear corner. It was far from the heating vents, but not too cold. He set down the duffel bag.

  “Over there,” said Judy, pointing across the room. “Look. An old woman is passing out blankets to some people.”

  “We should get some for the two of you,” said Hunter.

  “You stay here,” said Judy. “Protect our space. I’ll get them.”

  “Take Jane,” said Hunter. “I shall watch you carefully from here.”

  “Oh, I don’t think we’re in immediate danger.” Judy headed for the blankets and Jane followed her.

  Hunter observed that his concern was overstated. Under stress, humans could be short-tempered and violent, but the people here had fallen into a regular routine, beaten down by the hardships of war and exhaustion. From what Judy had said, this society itself also regimented them severely.

  Judy and Jane returned with some blankets.

  “They’re wool,” Judy said, handing one to Hunter. “Scratchy, but clean and heavy.”

  “I’m not complaining,” said Jane. “It’s the only padding we’ll have on the floor, too.”

  “Use mine for your pad
ding as well.” Hunter gave his back to Judy.

  Judy and Jane spread out the blankets to sit on. Hunter sat down on the bare floor and leaned back against the cold wall. He saw that no one was close enough to overhear him if he spoke quietly.

  “Judy, where would MC 4 go in order to prevent the most harm with the least effort?”

  “Well …” Judy glanced around. Then she whispered, switching to English. “He might try to stop the NKVD — the Soviet secret police. They act paranoid, and are irrationally cruel to everyone. Their own people are their primary target. They are always hunting out potential security risks to the government, but that often means execution or lifetime imprisonment for people who merely ask for information or express an opinion. And for talking about them, English is even better than Russian. We can’t chance being understood.”

  “Are they actually a greater danger than the upcoming battle itself?” Hunter shifted to English, leaning close to her and lowering his own voice to a whisper.

  “The battle will cause a lot of suffering,” said Judy. “But the Soviets will win the Battle of Moscow. It’s their first major victory of the war.”

  “Are you sure it’s safe to speak English?” Jane whispered, glancing around. “If we’re heard, they’ll know we aren’t Russian peasants.”

  “For the NKVD, yes,” said Judy. “We’re better off raising suspicion than being overheard clearly.”

  “On this subject, then, we shall risk it,” whispered Hunter. “However, Judy, the Soviets do not know they are going to win. MC 4 mayor may not know; I cannot assume his motives or information in choosing to come here. Jane has surmised that he has come here because of his responsibility for ethics in Mojave Center, but we have no certainty. So my question about the danger from the NKVD still stands.”

  “All right,” said Judy. “I’ll give you the whole picture. Despite their impending counterattack, the Soviets are still on the defensive because this is their territory. As they see it, they must either surrender to Nazi cruelty or run. If they flee, they expect to suffer even more from the winter and the pursuing enemy than if they fight. The Russian people are caught between Stalin, Hitler, and the Russian winter. Those are unbelievably horrible options.”