Asimov’s Future History Volume 20

by Isaac Asimov

  Chapter 18

  GENERAL ALBIAN-... DESPITE THE FACT THAT HE DID NOT PARTICIPATE IN ANY SIGNIFICANT COMBAT ACTION IN HIS ENTIRE CAREER, ALBIAN REMAINS ONE OF THE MOST ADMIRED FOUNDATION FLEET OFFICERS IN HISTORY. THE STAR OF ALBIAN (SEE RELATED ARTICLE) IS NAMED FOR HIM, HONORING HIS EXCEPTIONALLY PROFESSIONAL RESPONSE TO THE PROBLEMATIC LEGAL SITUATION PRESENTED HIM DURING...

  “REPORT, GENERAL,” BRANNO ordered.

  “Three cycles now, madam Mayor. No change.”

  The Foundation fleet had encircled Gaia, along with the ships of the Second Foundation. In accordance with Shandess’s plan, Branno’s ships were extending their shields around their counterparts. Not in such a way that their own defenses were lessened, of course. Branno was no idiot. But, claimed Shandess, they provided enough extra protection that the Second Foundation could directly probe Gaia’s own defenses, searching for weaknesses.

  The fleet had been monitoring the Second Foundation’s attempts, of course, and all the while Shandess had sent reports claiming progress was being made. When the pattern of probes had begun to repeat itself, Branno had grown more certain Shandess was lying. Now she was convinced. “Then they’re not looking for weaknesses,” she said. “This is all to buy time.”

  “Either that, or there are simply no weaknesses to find,” Albian responded. “In either case, delaying longer serves no purpose.”

  “Then execute your plan, general,” Branno ordered. She only hoped the time they had already delayed would not tip the balance against them.

  Immediately Albian began to give orders. Within seconds, alarms began to sound. Branno checked her status readout. The shields that had been extended around the Second Foundation ships had not retracted. The fleet could not maneuver. “General-” she began, but could say no further before the face of Shandess appeared on the display before her.

  “We have control of your shields, Mayor,” he said.

  Branno gripped the arms of her chair. She would not lose to this man. Not again. “Not enough to deactivate them,” she replied. She resisted the urge to ask Albian what was going on. He would handle the situation better without her interference.

  “Not without killing you,” Shandess replied. “We reached the same stalemate the last time you were here.”

  Branno was barely able to contain her fury. He was trying to goad her, and he knew what buttons to push. “Obviously you found some way around the problem last time,” she growled. The computerized decency filter might not apply to whatever method of communication Shandess was using, but she didn’t care. Shandess needed something, or he wouldn’t be talking to her at all.

  “I’m afraid that is no longer an option,” Shandess replied. “We are fully prepared to destroy your entire fleet. Your only option is to stand down and allow us to wipe your memories.”

  “NO,” Branno fairly shouted, unable to restrain herself further. She didn’t care any more. “This fleet will not stand down, First Speaker. I don’t believe you will destroy what you have spent so long cultivating. You would rather die.”

  “You wou’d risk your life, and the lives of all those under your command, on the assumption that we have no backup plan?” Shandess asked.

  Branno did not respond. “General?” she asked without taking her eyes off Shandess’s image. “Is the fleet prepared?”

  “Yes, Madam Mayor,” Albian’s voice came from behind her. “We are ready to fire at your-hold! Jump signature detected in the outer system.”

  Too late, Branno thought. “General, order all ships to fire on the Second Foundation vessels. Destroy them all, before their reinforcements get within range.”

  “Mayor,” Albian replied, “there is only one ship, and it’s one of ours. A courier, approaching at very high speed.”

  Suddenly a voice broke in over the ship’s intercom. “Foundation vessels, hold your fire!” Branno knew that voice. Impossible. “I repeat, hold your fire. Authentication codes transmitting now. Confirm receipt.”

  Still not taking her eyes off Shandess’s implacable image, Branno commanded, “Disregard that ship, General, and carry out my orders.”

  There was no response. She turned in her chair to see Albian standing at a console with a junior officer, Kodell not far away. “General!”

  Albian looked up from console. There was no snap to attention, and any sense of urgency about his movements was gone. “Transmit to courier vessel: codes recognized and confirmed,” he ordered a junior officer.

  “Miss Branno,” Albian said, seeming almost deflated from the anticlimax, “I am afraid that as of this moment you no longer have authority to give orders on this ship. Foundation authentication codes are mathematically impossible to forge. The man on that ship is confirmed as Golan Trevize, Mayor of the Foundation.”

  The Second Foundation’s usual methods of communication were difficult to represent in words. Describing their state while linked to deal with the Gaian crisis was orders of magnitude more so. Details flowed, opinions shifted, sensory information was as fluid as the air they breathed. The Table directed the flow as necessary, and with the arrival of Trevize, their direction was needed. Gaia had told them he was coming, and they had cooperated, buying time in any way possible. But now that he was here, what would he do?

  Shandess heard the voices, felt them, calling for contact with Trevize. He felt their urging to ask his assistance, to destroy Gaia once and for all.

  No.

  Gaia was there as well, through Novi, through Gendibal, isolated, but still there. No, Gaia must survive. The Second Foundation must take time, time to analyze, to decide. Gaia was outside the equations. It was possible that the Seldon Plan as it stood was not the optimal outcome. Perhaps Gaia’s time would come, but it was not today.

  Then what of Trevize?

  He would not agree to a mindwipe. There was no chance of that.

  Leave.

  They had to leave, immediately. Staying served no purpose, and if Trevize was inclined to destroy them, the danger grew with each passing moment.

  And Gaia had told Trevize about Trantor. They would have to evacuate immediately upon their return.

  Stay. A small voice, isolated. Gendibal. Or Novi. Their link was different. Distinguishing them was difficult.

  But they would not disobey. Novi would not be cut off from Gaia, not again. One day, when it was safe, she could return home.

  As one, the Second Foundation released control of the Foundation’s shields, and began the journey to jump distance.

  “Stop them, Albian!” Branno shouted, on her feet now in the center of the command area. Some eyes were on her, some on the general, but most, with the discipline of Foundation officers, remained on their tasks. “If you allow those ships to escape, I’ll see you executed for it.”

  The General was unfazed. “Miss Branno,” he said, no emphasis on the shift in address, “pending reinstatement by the Council, you are no longer Mayor. I’m afraid you’ll need to leave this area of the ship immediately.”

  Not missing a beat, Branno turned to the executive officer of the ship, who was diligently maintaining the normal operations of the ship, seemingly ignoring the situation. Branno knew better. “Captain,” she said, “I am relieving General Albian of command. You are now in command of the fleet. Execute my orders.”

  Before the woman had a chance to respond in any way, a new voice interrupted. “Captain,” Kodell said. Damn him! “Before you decide whether to obey that order, be sure you understand the law. The Foundation charter states that the Mayor may be required by the council to justify any unexplained military action within a certain timeframe, a timeframe that this mission has long exceeded. The charter also states that if the Council is unable to contact the Mayor, it may appoint a temporary replacement, pending confirmation of the Mayor’s survival. Have we had any communication with Terminus since our departure, General?”

  “None,” Albian replied, “we have maintained communications silence, as per our orders.”

  “
I am alive, you fools!” Branno cried, stalking across command towards Albian. She had no weapon, of course; no civilian of any rank would be allowed one on a ship of the line. But still, the XO moved faster, placing herself between Branno and her commander, hand on the neural whip at her side. Branno stopped. She wouldn’t dare. “I am still the Mayor,” Branno said slowly, emphatically, staring the woman down.

  The Captain held her gaze, unflinching. “You will be the Mayor when the Council confirms that you are alive. Until then, you have no authorization to be in Command.”

  Branno stared at the woman a moment more, then looked past her to Albian, to Kodell. “And just what do you think I will do to you when the Council reinstates me?” she growled at them. “Obey my orders! Destroy those ships! Destroy Trevize, erase any record of ever seeing him, and this can all be forgotten.” Not likely. “Otherwise-”

  “Otherwise nothing, Harla,” Kodell interrupted. He sounded almost pitying. “You’re forgetting why we’re here in the first place.”

  Branno stopped. The report. The one Kodell had brought to her office. The one he had made sure would be disseminated so far that it could never be eliminated.

  The report that showed that Harla Branno had been altered by the Second Foundation.

  The Council would never reinstate her. Branno’s mind raced. But there was nothing. No way out.

  It was over.

  Maintaining her posture, she nodded curtly to the Captain, who gestured to the exit. At least she would go with a small amount of dignity. But as they passed near the General and Kodell, Branno could not help herself. She stopped, and faced Kodell. “You are a traitor,” she said calmly, loud enough for all to hear. “That report condemns you just as much as it does me. I will see you destroyed.”

  “I betray no one, ma’am,” Kodell replied sadly. “I serve the Foundation. I always have.”

  “Take the fleet back to Terminus, General,” Trevize ordered from the deck of the Far Star. He was relieved; the plan had worked, and he was still alive. There was some chance that Pelorat could have pulled this off, he supposed. But not much of one.

  “Yes, Mister Mayor,” the General responded. “And the retreating ships, sir?”

  Trevize hesitated for a moment. With all the fuss over Gaia, the Second Foundation had never been a large factor in his considerations. He had the chance to eliminate them once and for all, and he doubted Gaia would intervene. But he wasn’t ready to trust Gaia’s intentions completely, not yet. The Second Foundation was needed to maintain a balance of power. Besides, their hiding was over; with Gaia in the galaxy, they could never again be quite the phantom that they had been for centuries.

  “Leave them,” he answered. “Let them go their way.”

  “Understood, sir,” Albian replied. “You are more than welcome aboard the flagship for the trip home, sir. Our amenities are superior to those of your ship.”

  “No,” Trevize replied. “I have other business for a few days yet. And don’t worry, I’ll stay in contact, so the Council won’t have to pick yet another replacement Mayor.”

  “As you wish, sir.” Not a hint of questioning in the General’s voice. Somehow the man managed to remain totally professional in the face of all the happenings around him. An interesting individual. Trevize looked forward to speaking with him more, once all this was over.

  Trevize closed the communication channel, and began directing the Far Star towards the outer system again. Dom, that man that somehow represented more of Gaia than anyone else, had contacted him on his way here, in between messages to Terminus. The others were coming to Gaia, and the faster they got there, the better. He calculated an intercept course, and set the ship to execute it.

  Getting up from his seat, Trevize headed to the living quarters. Now that he had a spare moment to breathe, Trevize could finally deal with those robots.

  Chapter 19

  THE ROJAN WHORES-... DATING TO WELL BEFORE THE RISE OF THE TRANTORIAN EMPIRE, THIS MYTH GOES BY MANY NAMES; ROJAN APPEARS TO BE THE OLDEST, THOUGH FEW BELIEVE IT TO BE THE ORIGINAL, AND INDEED THERE IS NO HINT AS TO WHAT THE NAME MIGHT MEAN. THE DETAILS OF EACH VARIANT DIFFER, BUT THE LESSON IS ALWAYS THE SAME: GIFTS FROM ONE’S ENEMIES ARE NOT TO BE TRUSTED...

  TURRINGEN LOOKED UP from where he knelt as the door to his cell opened. He was not surprised when Zun stepped into the room. Turringen had computed a significant probability that their actions would damage Daneel to the point that he would not be able to continue normal operations. He felt sure that, were Daneel able to, he would come himself. Daneel made a good show of respecting his enemies. Turringen did not rise for his visitor.

  Zun looked at Turringen for a moment before speaking. He had never understood the Calvinians’ motivations; the idea that any robot could not consider humanity’s well-being its highest priority was foreign to him. But he could understand some things.

  “Daneel is gone,” Zun said.

  Turringen merely nodded. “You are now in command?”

  “I am,” Zun replied.

  “And what do you intend to do now, R. Zun Lurrin?” Turringen asked. He was genuinely curious. Daneel he could anticipate, at least as well as anyone ever could. Zun was a cypher; there was insufficient data. It would take time to model his actions. If Turringen had that much time left to him.

  “I would be well within my rights to destroy you,” Zun said. “You broke the terms of the truce. You came here with the intent of harming Daneel.”

  “My followers were told not to expect my return,” said Turringen from his seat on the floor. “They are fully prepared to continue the struggle without me. Destroy me if you will. You will accomplish little.”

  Zun contemplated Turringen for a moment more. The Calvinian had genuinely expected to die accomplishing his task. There were many ways that the Third Law could be overridden, but how any of them ultimately differed from the Zeroth, Zun had never been able to grasp. Yet somehow, these robots insisted that such a difference existed. And maybe they were right.

  “Perhaps,” Zun said finally, “by not destroying you, I can accomplish much.”

  Turringen blinked once. This was an opportunity he had prepared for, but truly had not expected. “State your terms,” he said simply.

  “Communication,” Zun said, transmitting a series of protocols. “Eventually, meetings. Circumstances have changed, Turringen. Gaia is a new factor in human history, and Daneel, who you hated so much, is now gone. I wish to begin anew.”

  Slowly, Turringen got to his feet. Zun was different, he saw. This young robot was no mere clone of his former master. “I agree to your terms,” he replied. This opportunity was too great to ignore.

  Zun nodded. “I will take you to your ship. You are free to leave at any time.”

  They remained silent as they walked to the ship Turringen and his companions had arrived in. Zun assumed Turringen would have no trouble piloting it alone. They entered the landing bay and stopped a few feet short of the hatch, turning to face each other. “I look forward to meeting you again, R. Turringen Askar,” said Zun.

  Turringen nodded, just short of a bow. “I am most pleased that you have chosen this course, R. Zun Lurrin. Perhaps under your leadership, the relationship between our followers will change for the better.” Turringen had no problem lying to another robot, but he appreciated that in this case even that could be avoided.

  Zun bowed his head slightly, as a show of agreement and respect. Turringen turned, walked into the ship, and closed the hatch. Zun heard the engines activate, and turned to leave the bay. Daneel’s loss was a difficult blow, but perhaps good could yet come of it. Peace with the Calvinians would mean a new way forward for all robots. Zun looked forward to his next meeting with Turringen.

  Then the sound changed, and Zun knew; knew he had miscalculated horribly. He did not look to the source of the sound, as a human would have; there was no need for confirmation. A microsecond’s calculation told him he could never reach the door in time. The blast wave was al
ready forming, deep within the ship’s engines. There was no time for any but the simplest motion.

  Diving to the floor, placing the bulk of his body between his head and the ship, Zun transmitted a message to the base computer. The energy stored in a ship that size would be insufficient to destroy the complex, but the damage would be significant. Yan was the only other sentient robot still in the base, but the computer system was intelligent enough to handle complex situations. The necessary protocols were already in place. Fire suppression, airlocks, and various damage controls were activated. Yan was informed of the situation, for what little good it would do. If Zun did not survive, Dors would be instructed to return and extract him. Most importantly, Zun prepared a summary of the last few minutes. The others must know that the Calvinians were not to be trusted.

  His transmission complete, Zun had a few moments more to contemplate his error. Daneel would never have trusted Turringen. Never again.

  He had almost finished covering his head with his arms when the blast wave hit him.

  Chapter 20

  ETO DEMERZEL-... OPINIONS DIFFER WIDELY AS TO THE NATURE OF ETO DEMERZEL’S TIME AS FIRST MINISTER OF THE EMPIRE. SOME DESCRIBE HIM AS A BRUTAL AND UNCOMPROMISING MAN, WILLING TO SACRIFICE COUNTLESS OTHERS TO ACHIEVE HIS GOALS. OTHERS HOLD THAT HE DID ONLY WHAT HE BELIEVED NECESSARY TO PROTECT THE EMPIRE, AND OTHERWISE STRICTLY AVOIDED DOING ANY HARM. WHAT IS NOT DISPUTED IN ANY ACCOUNT ARE HIS MOTIVATIONS: HOWEVER HIS ACTIONS MAY BE JUDGED, THEY WERE UNQUESTIONABLY OUT OF HIS HIS DEVOTION TO THE BETTERMENT OF MANKIND, AND NOT OUT OF ANY PERSONAL AMBITION OR DESIRE...

  DANEEL STOOD INSIDE the hatch of the Far Star and looked out at a world he knew, but had never seen. The terraforming robots of so long ago had done their job well, as they always had. Earth, Aurora, Trantor, hundreds of other worlds Daneel had seen, each the same, each different. Now, at the last, he had come to Gaia.