Foundation and Earth

  Suddenly, Pelorat called out in a half-strangled cry. “Wait, you cannot do this. —Guardian, you cannot do this.”

  “I am under detailed instructions,” said the robot quietly. “I can do this. Of course, I shall do as little damage as is consistent with obtaining information.”

  “But you cannot. Not at all. I am an Outworlder, and so are these two companions of mine. But this child,” and Pelorat looked at Fallom, whom he was still carrying, “is a Solarian. It will tell you what to do and you must obey it.”

  Fallom looked at Pelorat with eyes that were open, but seemed empty.

  Bliss shook her head, sharply, but Pelorat looked at her without any sign of understanding.

  The robot’s eyes rested briefly on Fallom. It said, “The child is of no importance. It does not have transducer-lobes.”

  “It does not yet have fully developed transducer-lobes,” said Pelorat, panting, “but it will have them in time. It is a Solarian child.”

  “It is a child, but without fully developed transducer-lobes it is not a Solarian. I am not compelled to follow its orders or to keep it from harm.”

  “But it is the offspring of Ruler Bander.”

  “Is it? How do you come to know that?”

  Pelorat stuttered, as he sometimes did when overearnest. “Wh—what other child would be on this estate?”

  “How do you know there aren’t a dozen?”

  “Have you seen any others?”

  “It is I who will ask the questions.”

  At this moment, the robot’s attention shifted as the second robot touched its arm. The two robots who had been sent to the mansion were returning at a rapid run that, nevertheless, had a certain irregularity to it.

  There was silence till they arrived and then one of them spoke in the Solarian language—at which all four of the robots seemed to lose their elasticity. For a moment, they appeared to wither, almost to deflate.

  Pelorat said, “They’ve found Bander,” before Trevize could wave him silent.

  The robot turned slowly and said, in a voice that slurred the syllables, “Ruler Bander is dead. By the remark you have just made, you show us you were aware of the fact. How did that come to be?”

  “How can I know?” said Trevize defiantly.

  “You knew it was dead. You knew it was there to be found. How could you know that, unless you had been there—unless it was you that had ended the life?” The robot’s enunciation was already improving. It had endured and was absorbing the shock.

  Then Trevize said, “How could we have killed Bander? With its transducer-lobes it could have destroyed us in a moment.”

  “How do you know what, or what not, transducer-lobes could do?”

  “You mentioned the transducer-lobes just now.”

  “I did no more than mention them. I did not describe their properties or abilities.”

  “The knowledge came to us in a dream.”

  “That is not a credible answer.”

  Trevize said, “To suppose that we have caused the death of Bander is not credible, either.”

  Pelorat added, “And in any case, if Ruler Bander is dead, then Ruler Fallom now controls this estate. Here the Ruler is, and it is it whom you must obey.”

  “I have already explained,” said the robot, “that an offspring with undeveloped transducer-lobes is not a Solarian. It cannot be a Successor, therefore. Another Successor, of the appropriate age, will be flown in as soon as we report this sad news.”

  “What of Ruler Fallom?”

  “There is no Ruler Fallom. There is only a child and we have an excess of children. It will be destroyed.”

  Bliss said forcefully, “You dare not. It is a child!”

  “It is not I,” said the robot, “who will necessarily do the act and it is certainly not I who will make the decision. That is for the consensus of the Rulers. In times of child-excess, however, I know well what the decision will be.”

  “No. I say no.”

  “It will be painless. —But another ship is coming. It is important that we go into what was the Bander mansion and set up a holovision Council that will supply a Successor and decide on what to do with you. —Give me the child.”

  Bliss snatched the semicomatose figure of Fallom from Pelorat. Holding it tightly and trying to balance its weight on her shoulder, she said, “Do not touch this child.”

  Once again, the robot’s arm shot out swiftly and it stepped forward, reaching for Fallom. Bliss moved quickly to one side, beginning her motion well before the robot had begun its own. The robot continued to move forward, however, as though Bliss were still standing before it. Curving stiffly downward, with the forward tips of its feet as the pivot, it went down on its face. The other three stood motionless, eyes unfocused.

  Bliss was sobbing, partly with rage. “I almost had the proper method of control, and it wouldn’t give me the time. I had no choice but to strike and now all four are inactivated. —Let’s get on the ship before the other ship lands. I am too ill to face additional robots, now.”

  PART V

  MELPOMENIA

  13

  Away from Solaria

  56.

  THE LEAVING WAS A BLUR. TREVIZE HAD GATHERED up his futile weapons, had opened the airlock, and they had tumbled in. Trevize didn’t notice until they were off the surface that Fallom had been brought in as well.

  They probably would not have made it in time if the Solarian use of air-flight had not been so comparatively unsophisticated. It took the approaching Solarian vessel an unconscionable time to descend and land. On the other hand, it took virtually no time for the computer of the Far Star to take the gravitic ship vertically upward.

  And although the cut-off of the gravitational interaction and, therefore, of inertia wiped out the otherwise unbearable effects of acceleration that would have accompanied so speedy a takeoff, it did not wipe out the effects of air resistance. The outer hull temperature rose at a distinctly more rapid rate than navy regulations (or ship specifications, for that matter) would have considered suitable.

  As they rose, they could see the second Solarian ship land and several more approaching. Trevize wondered how many robots Bliss could have handled, and decided they would have been overwhelmed if they had remained on the surface fifteen minutes longer.

  Once out in space (or space enough, with only tenuous wisps of the planetary exosphere around them), Trevize made for the nightside of the planet. It was a hop away, since they had left the surface as sunset was approaching. In the dark, the Far Star would have a chance to cool more rapidly, and there the ship could continue to recede from the surface in a slow spiral.

  Pelorat came out of the room he shared with Bliss. He said, “The child is sleeping normally now. We’ve showed it how to use the toilet and it had no trouble understanding.”

  “That’s not surprising. It must have had similar facilities in the mansion.”

  “I didn’t see any there and I was looking,” said Pelorat feelingly. “We didn’t get back on the ship a moment too soon for me.”

  “Or any of us. But why did we bring that child on board?”

  Pelorat shrugged apologetically. “Bliss wouldn’t let go. It was like saving a life in return for the one she took. She can’t bear—”

  “I know,” said Trevize.

  Pelorat said, “It’s a very oddly shaped child.”

  “Being hermaphroditic, it would have to be,” said Trevize.

  “It has testicles, you know.”

  “It could scarcely do without them.”

  “And what I can only describe as a very small vagina.”

  Trevize made a face. “Disgusting.”

  “Not really, Golan,” said Pelorat, protesting. “It’s adapted to its needs. It only delivers a fertilized egg-cell, or a very tiny embryo, which is then developed under laboratory conditions, tended, I dare say, by robots.”

  “And what happens if their robot-system breaks down? If that happens, they would no longer
be able to produce viable young.”

  “Any world would be in serious trouble if its social structure broke down completely.”

  “Not that I would weep uncontrollably over the Solarians.”

  “Well,” said Pelorat, “I admit it doesn’t seem a very attractive world—to us, I mean. But that’s only the people and the social structure, which are not our type at all, dear chap. But subtract the people and the robots, and you have a world which otherwise—”

  “Might fall apart as Aurora is beginning to do,” said Trevize. “How’s Bliss, Janov?”

  “Worn out, I’m afraid. She’s sleeping now. She had a very bad time, Golan.”

  “I didn’t exactly enjoy myself either.”

  Trevize closed his eyes, and decided he could use some sleep himself and would indulge in that relief as soon as he was reasonably certain the Solarians had no space capability—and so far the computer had reported nothing of artifactitious nature in space.

  He thought bitterly of the two Spacer planets they had visited—hostile wild dogs on one—hostile hermaphroditic loners on the other—and in neither place the tiniest hint as to the location of Earth. All they had to show for the double visit was Fallom.

  He opened his eyes. Pelorat was still sitting in place at the other side of the computer, watching him solemnly.

  Trevize said, with sudden conviction, “We should have left that Solarian child behind.”

  Pelorat said, “The poor thing. They would have killed it.”

  “Even so,” said Trevize, “it belonged there. It’s part of that society. Being put to death because of being superfluous is the sort of thing it’s born to.”

  “Oh, my dear fellow, that’s a hardhearted way to look at it.”

  “It’s a rational way. We don’t know how to care for it, and it may suffer more lingeringly with us and die anyway. What does it eat?”

  “Whatever we do, I suppose, old man. Actually, the problem is what do we eat? How much do we have in the way of supplies?”

  “Plenty. Plenty. Even allowing for our new passenger.”

  Pelorat didn’t look overwhelmed with happiness at this remark. He said, “It’s become a pretty monotonous diet. We should have taken some items on board on Comporellon—not that their cooking was excellent.”

  “We couldn’t. We left, if you remember, rather hurriedly, as we left Aurora, and as we left, in particular, Solaria. —But what’s a little monotony? It spoils one’s pleasure, but it keeps one alive.”

  “Would it be possible to pick up fresh supplies if we need to?”

  “Anytime, Janov. With a gravitic ship and hyperspatial engines, the Galaxy is a small place. In days, we can be anywhere. It’s just that half the worlds in the Galaxy are alerted to watch for our ship and I would rather stay out of the way for a time.”

  “I suppose that’s so. —Bander didn’t seem interested in the ship.”

  “It probably wasn’t even consciously aware of it. I suspect that the Solarians long ago gave up space flight. Their prime desire is to be left completely alone and they can scarcely enjoy the security of isolation if they are forever moving about in space and advertising their presence.”

  “What are we going to do next, Golan?”

  Trevize said, “We have a third world to visit.”

  Pelorat shook his head. “Judging from the first two, I don’t expect much from that.”

  “Nor do I at the moment, but just as soon as I get a little sleep, I’m going to get the computer to plot our course to that third world.”

  57.

  TREVIZE SLEPT CONSIDERABLY LONGER THAN HE had expected to, but that scarcely mattered. There was neither day nor night, in any natural sense, on board ship, and the circadian rhythm never worked absolutely perfectly. The hours were what they were made to be, and it wasn’t uncommon for Trevize and Pelorat (and particularly Bliss) to be somewhat out-of-sync as far as the natural rhythms of eating and sleeping were concerned.

  Trevize even speculated, in the course of his scrapedown (the importance of conserving water made it advisable to scrape off the suds rather than rinse them off), about sleeping another hour or two, when he turned and found himself staring at Fallom, who was as undressed as he was.

  He could not help jumping back, which, in the restricted area of the Personal, was bound to bring part of his body against something hard. He grunted.

  Fallom was staring curiously at him and was pointing at Trevize’s penis. What it said was incomprehensible but the whole bearing of the child seemed to bespeak a sense of disbelief. For his own peace of mind, Trevize had no choice but to put his hands over his penis.

  Then Fallom said, in its high-pitched voice, “Greetings.”

  Trevize started slightly at the child’s unexpected use of Galactic, but the word had the sound of having been memorized.

  Fallom continued, a painstaking word at a time, “Bliss—say—you—wash—me.”

  “Yes?” said Trevize. He put his hands on Fallom’s shoulders. “You—stay—here.”

  He pointed downward at the floor and Fallom, of course, looked instantly at the place to which the finger pointed. It showed no comprehension of the phrase at all.

  “Don’t move,” said Trevize, holding the child tightly by both arms, pressing them toward the body as though to symbolize immobility. He hastily dried himself and put on his shorts, and over them his trousers.

  He stepped out and roared, “Bliss!”

  It was difficult for anyone to be more than four meters from any one else on the ship and Bliss came to the door of her room at once. She said, smiling, “Are you calling me, Trevize, or was that the soft breeze sighing through the waving grass?”

  “Let’s not be funny, Bliss. What is that?” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

  Bliss looked past him and said, “Well, it looks like the young Solarian we brought on board yesterday.”

  “You brought on board. Why do you want me to wash it?”

  “I should think you’d want to. It’s a very bright creature. It’s picking up Galactic words quickly. It never forgets once I explain something. Of course, I’m helping it do so.”

  “Naturally.”

  “Yes. I keep it calm. I kept it in a daze during most of the disturbing events on the planet. I saw to it that it slept on board ship and I’m trying to divert its mind just a little bit from its lost robot, Jemby, that, apparently, it loved very much.”

  “So that it ends up liking it here, I suppose.”

  “I hope so. It’s adaptable because it’s young, and I encourage that by as much as I dare influence its mind. I’m going to teach it to speak Galactic.”

  “Then you wash it. Understood?”

  Bliss shrugged. “I will, if you insist, but I would want it to feel friendly with each of us. It would be useful to have each of us perform parental functions. Surely you can co-operate in that.”

  “Not to this extent. And when you finish washing it, get rid of it. I want to talk to you.”

  Bliss said, with a sudden edge of hostility, “How do you mean, get rid of it?”

  “I don’t mean dump it through the airlock. I mean, put it in your room. Sit it down in a corner. I want to talk at you.”

  “I’ll be at your service,” she said coldly.

  He stared after her, nursing his wrath for the moment, then moved into the pilot-room, and activated the viewscreen.

  Solaria was a dark circle with a curving crescent of light at the left. Trevize placed his hands on the desk to make contact with the computer and found his anger cooling at once. One had to be calm to link mind and computer effectively and, eventually, conditioned reflex linked handhold and serenity.

  There were no artifactitious objects about the ship in any direction, out as far as the planet itself. The Solarians (or their robots, most likely) could not, or would not, follow.

  Good enough. He might as well get out of the night-shadow, then. If he continued to recede, it would, in any case, vanish as So
laria’s disc grew smaller than that of the more distant, but much larger, sun that it circled.

  He set the computer to move the ship out of the planetary plane as well, since that would make it possible to accelerate with greater safety. They would then more quickly reach a region where space curvature would be low enough to make the Jump secure.

  And, as often on such occasions, he fell to studying the stars. They were almost hypnotic in their quiet changelessness. All their turbulence and instability were wiped out by the distance that left them only dots of light.

  One of those dots might well be the sun about which Earth revolved—the original sun, under whose radiation life began, and under whose beneficence humanity evolved.

  Surely, if the Spacer worlds circled stars that were bright and prominent members of the stellar family, and that were nevertheless unlisted in the computer’s Galactic map, the same might be true of the sun.

  Or was it only the suns of the Spacer worlds that were omitted because of some primeval treaty agreement that left them to themselves? Would Earth’s sun be included in the Galactic map, but not marked off from the myriads of stars that were sunlike, yet had no habitable planet in orbit about itself?

  There were after all, some thirty billion sunlike stars in the Galaxy, and only about one in a thousand had habitable planets in orbits about them. There might be a thousand such habitable planets within a few hundred parsecs of his present position. Should he sift through the sunlike stars one by one, searching for them?

  Or was the original sun not even in this region of the Galaxy? How many other regions were convinced the sun was one of their neighbors, that they were primeval Settlers—?

  He needed information, and so far he had none.

  He doubted strongly whether even the closest examination of the millennial ruins on Aurora would give information concerning Earth’s location. He doubted even more strongly that the Solarians could be made to yield information.

  Then, too, if all information about Earth had vanished out of the great Library at Trantor; if no information about Earth remained in the great Collective Memory of Gaia; there seemed little chance that any information that might have existed on the lost worlds of the Spacers would have been overlooked.