by Isaac Asimov
“I believe we are halfway to enemy lines,” Leutnant Mohr said quietly. He did not slow down or turn, but his voice sounded oddly tight
“We have made excellent progress,” said Ishihara. His tone was calm.
Wayne picked up the meaning of his delivery. Ishihara was monitoring the Soviet radio traffic and knew that the Red Army had not noticed them. Leutnant Mohr was getting nervous, though, knowing that they were drawing closer to the enemy than to the safety of his own lines.
They rode in silence for a while longer. Finally, however, Leutnant Mohr came to a stop. Wayne saw nothing in the darkness around them.
“What is wrong?” Ishihara asked.
“We are within five to seven kilometers of enemy lines,” said Leutnant Mohr. In the reflected light from the headlights, his face was pale and tense.
“That is still a long walk for us,” said Ishihara. “We have had no sign of the enemy.”
“This is as far as I dare go,” said Leutnant Mohr. “We are certain to attract Soviet patrols in the next few miles. And if they open up with artillery, I will not be able to go back to my own lines quietly, either. I could be blamed for starting an unplanned action.”
“But five to seven kilometers,” Wayne started. “In this cold, we could —”
“Very well,” Ishihara interrupted, speaking more loudly than usual to drown out Wayne. “Your arguments are sound, Leutnant. We thank you for your cooperation.”
“I wish you good luck,” said Leutnant Mohr.
Wayne and Ishihara got out into the cold night air. The armored car jerked and rumbled away in a large turn. In a moment, it was bouncing over the frozen ground back to the west. Wayne and Ishihara were alone.
“Why didn’t you argue a little harder?” Wayne asked, pulling his cloak snugly around him.
“We cannot risk having Leutnant Mohr start a battle prematurely. It could change world history in a manner very destructive to our own time.”
Wayne sighed. “Freezing to death will be destructive to me, personally.”
“I cannot allow harm to come to you, either. You are already aware of that.”
“For that matter, what about you?” Wayne looked at him. “Your energy storage has a limit, too. How long can you manage out here without your cloak?”
“I can pursue normal activity without a problem until dawn, at which time even the weak winter sun will begin to recharge the solar collectors built into my skin surface. Unusually extreme activity tonight could drain me prematurely, but I do not foresee that happening.”
“So, we just start walking? I’m not sure I can make it that distance.”
“I am certain you cannot,” said Ishihara. “I have another plan to propose.”
“Good.”
“I warn you that considerable risk is involved in this suggestion, too. However, I feel it is less risky to your welfare than simply trying to walk from here would be.”
“All right, all right. Get to the point, will you? I’m freezing while we stand here.”
“I can radio ahead to the Soviets on my internal system and ask for help.”
“Uh — what would you say?”
“We will have to discuss that and come to agreement on our story, just as we did with the Germans. In this case, we should have plenty of time, since the Soviets so far remain unaware of us.”
“Well, we managed with the Germans. I guess we could come up with a better story this time.”
“If someone comes to get us, they may wonder where our radio is. Obviously, I cannot reveal that I am a robot with an internal system.”
“What do you want to tell them?”
“Since we will have no radio of this era to show them, we must be careful to explain that our radio quit working and was abandoned before they arrived. I recommend that we claim the Germans had us under fire at the time.”
“Got it. But isn’t that a little premature? First we’d better hope someone shows up at all. Then we can hope they don’t demand to see the radio.”
“With your agreement, I shall radio for help in Russian to the Red Army.”
“Go ahead,” Wayne said wryly. “Otherwise, this cold may kill me first.”
They stood in silence for a moment, as Ishihara broadcast a message.
“You get anybody?” Wayne asked.
Not yet.”
“What did you say?”
“I was deliberately vague. I said that we were bringing intelligence about the Germans back to the Soviet lines but were stranded.”
“Did you send it more than once?”
“Yes, of course. And I shall continue to transmit it at intervals.”
“Good.”
“But I must question a statement you made a moment ago about dying of the cold. Before I can allow that to happen, I would have to insist that we leave this time and place.”
“Changing to another time has to remain our last resort,” said Wayne. “That’s a Second Law imperative.”
“We discussed this matter in ancient Germany,” said Ishihara. “I understand your concern that Hunter will have assigned another robot to apprehend us back in our own time. But of course we do not have to return there. We can jump only a few hours and a few miles if you wish.”
“I know,” said Wayne. “But if we jump from here to Moscow, for instance, we don’t know where we’ll appear — maybe right in front of people. And if we move forward at too long an interval, I’m afraid Hunter will already have grabbed MC 4 before we’ve had a chance.”
“I understand,” said Ishihara. He hesitated, suddenly moving to face east.
Wayne waited eagerly, sure that he had received something from the Soviets.
“They are coming,” said Ishihara.
How far away are they?”
“I do not know yet. A Red Army unit finally responded to my message on the fourteenth repetition. I said we are civilians escaping from the Germans with military intelligence we wanted to share with the Soviets.”
“How were you able to tell them where we are? I have no idea.” Wayne looked around in the darkness.
“I could not. I told them I shall transmit to them every minute or so, just counting numbers, so that they can trace the signal as they approach us.”
“I hope they hurry. I’m getting colder by the minute.”
“They are not far.”
“Good,” said Wayne. “Do you know what will happen between these two armies here? I mean, I know which side won the war, of course, but what about right here? Do you know anything about that?”
“I have no details.”
“None at all?”
“I only know that the Germans will lose this battle outside Moscow,” said Ishihara. “They do not take the city, despite what Leutnant Mohr said about it. This is the first Soviet victory of the war.”
“Well, let’s figure out our story. We want to have it before anyone gets here.”
Hunter walked through the dark, nearly deserted streets with his team, pausing to hide in shadows or around corners on the few occasions when they saw a vehicle. They saw no other pedestrians. At the same time, Hunter monitored the radio transmissions in Moscow from the NKVD. The transmissions made reference to a couple of other public buildings that were being used to house displaced citizens.
None of the messages mentioned an exact address. However, Hunter heard references to neighborhoods and streets that helped him choose the team’s direction. After nearly an hour of walking through the cold, he approached another warehouse, from which a small amount of light escaped around the edges of a blacked-out window.
“That must be the place,” said Hunter. “I can hear the sleeping breaths of many people inside, as Jane suggested earlier.”
“What’s our story?” Steve moved up next to Hunter, moving slowly with weariness from all the walking. “Won’t they want to know what we’ve been doing out at this hour?”
“As you have occasionally recommended, I shall improvise.” Hunter knocked firml
y on the front door. “The story we used when we first arrived, without you, should be sufficient.”
“What was it?” Steve asked.
Before Hunter could answer, the door opened slightly. A stout, scowling man glared at him. “Yeah, what is it?”
“We are displaced citizens from a farm west of Moscow,” said Hunter. “We have fled the Germans and seek shelter for the night.”
“The Germans have been at our gates for weeks. Where have you been since then?” The man eyed Steve suspiciously. “Where’s he from? He’s no Russian.”
12
STEVE STEPPED BACK.
My friend is a Mongol who originally came from south of here, down by the Black Sea,” Hunter said calmly. “Recently, he worked on the collective farm with us. Here are my sister and my cousin.”
“You are a fine, big, strapping fellow,” the guard said. “Why aren’t you out in the front lines? We have need for men like you.”
Hunter patted his left leg. “I can’t keep up on the march. Bad leg.”
“Oh? And you’re out in the cold all night?” The man started to say something else when another man’s voice from inside stopped him.
“Let them in, Yevgeny! So you can close the door! You’re letting all the cold air inside!”
The first man frowned even more, but he stepped back, holding the door open.
Hunter entered first, judging that more potential danger to his team lay in the uncertainties inside than in the empty street outside. However, this warehouse was little different from the last one. In the weak light from a lamp on the front table, he could see that the warehouse floor was covered with the sleeping people he had first heard a few moments before.
“We have no more blankets.” Their host folded his arms across his chest and stared at Hunter. “And we have very little space left.”
“It will be fine,” Hunter said casually. “Thank you.” He led the team down one wall, carefully stepping around or over the people in the way.
As in the other warehouse, people had clustered near the heating vents and had avoided the external walls as much as possible. That once again left some space for the team in one of the back corners. The corner was not exactly warm, but it was much warmer than the streets.
Hunter turned to look at his team members in the shadows and spoke in a whisper. “Is everyone okay?” He glanced past them to see that no one else was listening.
“Yes,” whispered Judy. “Good job.”
“I’m fine,” said Jane.
“Let’s get some rest,” said Steve.
“Your sleep schedules do not match the time to which we have come,” said Hunter. “You will probably not sleep. But we must remain quiet so that we attract no more attention. Your bodies will begin to adjust.”
“It’s like jet lag,” said Steve, with a shrug.
Wayne was shivering uncontrollably out on the steppe by the time headlights appeared in the distance to the east. The lights quivered and jumped as the vehicle rumbled across the frozen steppe toward them. Ishihara waited patiently.
A Soviet armored car finally roared to a stop in front of them. It was designed in a slightly different way from the one Leutnant Mohr had driven, but essentially accomplished the same purpose. The moment it stopped, however, a squad of Soviet soldiers leaped out of the back and fanned out to surround them, aiming their rifles at Wayne and Ishihara. One of them shouted in Russian.
Ishihara raised his hands over his head. Wayne imitated him. Neither of them spoke.
The squad leader shouted again. Two of the soldiers slung their rifles over their shoulders and jogged forward. They frisked Wayne and Ishihara, then stepped back.
The squad leader spoke sharply once more, jerking his head toward the back of the armored car.
“Follow me.” Ishihara walked toward it, glancing back at Wayne.
The instruction was unnecessary. Wayne was going to do whatever Ishihara did. They climbed into the back of the armored car, followed by the rest of the squad.
The armored car rumbled forward in a wide turn and drove back in the direction from which it had come. These soldiers were much more alert than the exhausted Germans had been. They kept their weapons trained on the prisoners during the entire ride, and never looked away from them.
Since Ishihara said nothing, Wayne remained silent as well. These Soviet soldiers seemed more dangerous, at least so far, than the Germans ever had. He could only hope that their superiors, like the Germans, would be open to hearing their story. As the icy wind whipped past them, he concentrated on keeping his balance and not making any sudden moves.
The journey did not take very long. The searchlights over Moscow were closer than ever. With the Soviet lines blacked out, however, Wayne suddenly realized that they were coming right up on the lines without any warning. Moscow itself was still some distance away.
The armored car drove through the lines to the rear. When it pulled up in front of a large tent, the squad leader shouted in Russian again. Ishihara jumped to the ground, so Wayne followed him.
Ishihara felt stress under the First Law imperatives. He had to keep Wayne safe or else somehow reach inside his torso cavity quickly and take them both to the safety of another time. His promise to Wayne not to do so unnecessarily, however, prevented him from acting too hastily.
Two men in civilian clothes, wearing long black overcoats and fur hats, came out of the tent. One of the civilians conferred briefly with the squad leader in Russian. The other soldiers still held their weapons trained on Wayne and Ishihara.
“This way,” said the civilian to Ishihara in Russian, nodding toward the tent.
Turning, Ishihara led Wayne into the tent. Ishihara was surprised that civilians were going to talk to them. Here in military lines, he had expected to be grilled by military officers again.
Only a battered wooden table and a couple of wooden stools stood inside the tent. The dirty canvas walls protected them from the wind but did little else. One of the civilians spoke in a coldly formal tone.
“What nationality are you?”
“My friend is Swedish and I am Swiss.”
They had agreed upon this story while waiting out on the steppe. The Soviets would not like to hear that Ishihara had any connection to Japan because of their historical resentment; in 1905, the Japanese had defeated Czarist Russia in war. If Wayne and Ishihara were both Swedish, however, their hosts would expect them to communicate in that language. Since Ishihara knew that Switzerland had also been neutral in this war, claiming to be Swiss would explain their language differences.
“My friend does not speak Russian or any of the languages spoken in Switzerland and I do not speak Swedish,” said Ishihara. “Therefore, we speak English to each other and I can translate Russian for him.”
“Very well.”
Ishihara turned to Wayne and explained this exchange in English.
“All right,” said Wayne. “Any idea who these guys are? They aren’t officers.”
“I am not certain.” Ishihara turned. “Who are you? What are your names?”
“You don’t need to know.”
Ishihara translated this, as well.
Wayne nodded. Then he waited, as one of the two civilians asked questions. His partner remained silent.
Ishihara prepared to translate throughout the conversation.
“What are your names?” The man in charge, a stout, frowning man, looked back and forth between them from under bushy eyebrows.
“Wayne Nystrom and R. Ishihara.”
“What are you doing here? What is your purpose?”
“We are pro-Soviet agents from neutral countries,” said Ishihara, matching their host’s formal tone. “For many months, we have been pursuing a German agent across much of central and eastern Europe.”
“Why are you wearing those ridiculous clothes?”
“We were given these clothes while crossing the mountains fleeing the enemy.”
The man studied them both for a m
oment. “You say you are chasing a German agent?”
“Two agents,” said Wayne. “Remember Hunter.”
“Oh, yes.”
“Eh? You aren’t certain of your mission?” The Russian glowered at them both suspiciously. “You are changing your story, now?”
“Our first mission is to apprehend a man codenamed MC 4,” said Ishihara.
“However, another German agent is hoping to warn him about us first,” said Wayne. “His name is Hunter. Naturally, we must stop him, too.”
“This agent who is code-named MC 4,” said the Russian, still eyeing Ishihara closely. “Do you know what his name is? Or what name he is using?”
“No,” said Ishihara.
“What is his mission in Moscow?”
Ishihara was aware that Wayne was deliberately remaining quiet, letting Ishihara take the lead. If they both answered simultaneously, and contradicted each other, they would lose their credibility completely. Wayne watched Ishihara.
“We believe that MC 4 will observe Red Army military placements,” said Ishihara.
“Then he will not enter the city proper?”
“We expect that he will also infiltrate the city to gain further information. Then he will radio what he learns back to German lines.”
“If he has preceded you here, he may already have radioed this information.” Their host turned to Wayne. “You have said very little. Do you think you are too late?”
“Uh — no,” said Wayne slowly, as Ishihara continued to translate. “We aren’t too late. I don’t think he can risk too many radio transmissions from here to the German lines.”
“He can’t risk too many? What do you mean?” For the first time, the Russian sounded less hostile.
“Well, if he radios back too soon, he runs the risk of being caught before he has learned everything he can,” said Wayne. “He won’t want to take that chance.”
“Then what do you expect him to do?”
“I think he’ll probably try to look around the Red Army positions first, then enter the city before he transmits anything.”
