Foundation and Chaos (16 page)

“I’m very glad you’ve joined us,” he said, and pressed his baby-smooth lips together. He neither smiled nor frowned, but his eyes, though they did not move, seemed to sweep her for every important detail. “Thank you,” he said, and turned to the window overlooking the largest chamber of the warehouse. Brann touched her shoulder, and she jerked, then followed the big man outside.

“When do I swear my oath?” she asked.

“You already have, by accepting our hospitality and not asking Kallusin if you could leave.”

“That doesn’t seem fair. I should know all the rules.”

“There are no rules, except you stay around here, you don’t use your talents on us or on outsiders…unless instructed to do so…and you don’t tell anybody about us.”

“Why not put that into an oath?”

“Why bother?” Brann said.

“And what about you? You keep making me want to look at you. Shouldn’t you stop that?”

Brann shook his head solemnly. “I’m not doing a thing,” he said.

“Don’t tell me that! I’m no idiot.”

“Believe whatever you want,” Brann said. “If you want to look at me, it’s just because you want to look at me.” Then he
added, in a low voice, “I don’t mind. Not with you.”

He walked ahead of her down a narrow industrial gray corridor lined with closed doors and illuminated by simple globes. Klia felt a flush of anger at his presumption. “Maybe you
should
mind!” she called ahead sharply. “Maybe you should
worry
! I’m not a very nice person!”

Brann shrugged and handed her the ID card that also served as a key to her room. “Enjoy your rest,” he said. “We probably won’t see each other for a while. I’m going with Kallusin to escort a shipment of goods to Mycogen. It might take us days to conclude the deal.”

“Good,” Klia said, and inserted the card. She pushed open the door to her room and entered swiftly, then slammed the door behind her.

For some seconds, she hardly saw the room, she was so angry with herself. She felt weak and taken advantage of. Swearing an oath without even hearing the oath! Plussix sounded monstrous.

Then the furniture and décor came into focus. It was spare, soft greens and grays with sunny yellow accents, not luxurious but not oppressive, either. There was a plain foam mattress, not too old, an armoire, a trunk, a tiny desk and chair, then another chair, not much larger but with more padding than the desk chair. There was a lamp in the ceiling and a lamp on the desk. A bookfilm reader lay on the desk.

The room was three paces wide and about three and a half long. It was the nicest room she had had to herself since she left home, and in truth, nicer than the small bedroom she had slept in as a child. She sat on the edge of the bed.

Being attracted to men, any man, was a weakness she could not afford now. She was sure her fantasy of a big Dahlite male didn’t match Brann—although he was big, a Dahlite, male, and sported a fine mustache.

The next time
, she vowed,
I won’t look at him at all!

Lodovik stood motionless but for his eyes, watching as Daneel conducted another diagnostic check, the last before the journey to Eos.

“There’s no overt damage, still nothing I can detect here,” Daneel said as the old machines finished. “But you’re a later model than these tools. They’re not up to your level, I suspect.”

“Have you ever diagnosed yourself?” Lodovik asked.

“Frequently,” Daneel said. “Every few years. Not with these machines, however. There are some high quality tools hidden on Trantor. Still, it’s been a century since I’ve been to Eos, and my power supply needs replacing. That’s why I’ll travel with you. And there is another reason. I have to bring back a robot—if her repairs and upgrades have gone well.”

“A female form?”

“Yes.”

Lodovik waited for elaboration, but Daneel was not forthcoming. He knew of only one female form robot still active, of the millions that had once been so popular with humans. This was Dors Venabili—and she had been sequestered on Eos for decades.

“You do not trust me now, do you?” Lodovik said.

“No,” Daneel said. “The ship should be ready. The sooner we get to Eos, the sooner we can get back. I hate to be away from Trantor. The most critical moment of the Cusp Time is upon us.”

Very few Imperial ships put in to Madder Loss now, but Daneel had made traveling arrangements with a trader vessel months before, and it was not difficult to fit Lodovik in as an extra passenger. The vessel would take them to the cold outer reaches of Madder Loss’s system, to a frozen
asteroid with no name, only a catalog number: ISSC–1491.

They stood on the landing platform of a remote outdoor port. Spaceport. The sun was bright, and insects flew through the air, pollinating the oil-flower fields that surrounded the concrete and plasteel facilities.

Lodovik still valued Daneel’s leadership and presence, but how long could that last? In fact, Lodovik had put all of his initiative on hold for the few days he had been on Madder Loss, for fear of defying Daneel. His type of humaniform robot used initiative in many important ways, however, not just to determine large-scale courses of action. He could not subdue the thoughts that rose from his core mentality.
Daneel would hold humans back. Humans must be allowed to act out their own destiny. We do not understand their animal spirits! We are not like them!

Daneel himself had said that human minds and destiny were not easily understood by robots—if they could be understood at all.
It is madness to control and direct their history! The overweening madness of machines out of control.

Something unfamiliar flitted across his thought processes—a vestige of the voice he had heard earlier.

Daneel spoke to the trader captain, a small, muscular man with a ritually scarred face and paste white skin. Daneel turned and waved for Lodovik to join him. Lodovik marched forward. The trader captain gave him a ferocious smile.

As they boarded the ship, Lodovik looked back. Insects everywhere, on all the planets suitable for humans, all alike, with minor local variations, mostly explainable by genetic tinkering over the millennia. All suited to maintaining ecosystems conducive to human civilization.

Not a wild creature on all of Madder Loss. Wild creatures could only be found on those fifty thousand worlds put aside as hunting and zoo preserves: the garden planets so popular with Klayus, planets where citizens could only visit with Imperial permission. He had once overseen the budgetary allocations to
those preserves. Linge Chen had wanted to shut them down as useless expense, but Klayus had made a direct request to save them, and there had been some ornate quid pro quo to which Lodovik had not been privy.

Lodovik wondered how all this, garden worlds and tamed or paved-over human worlds, had come to be. So much history unavailable to him. So many questions bubbling up now beneath the self-imposed constraints.

The ship doors closed behind him, and he concealed an algorithmic turbulence, what in human terms he would have called an intellectual panic—not at the closed spaces of the ship, but at the opening flowers of curiosity within his own mind!

In their small cabin, Daneel placed their two small pieces of luggage in containment racks and pulled down a small sitting platform. Lodovik remained standing. Daneel folded his arms.

“We will not be disturbed,” he said. “We can drop to our lowest level here. We should be at the rendezvous in six hours, and on Eos within three days.”

“How much time do we have, before you lose control of the situation on Trantor?” Lodovik asked.

“Fifteen days,” Daneel said. “Barring unforeseen circumstances. And there are always those, where humans are concerned.”

Vara Liso could hardly contain her rage. She raised her fists to Farad Sinter, who backed off with a small, shocked grin, and circled him in the broad public-affairs office. A number of Greys, pushing carts or carrying valises, witnessed this confrontation from the adjoining hallway with wonder and concealed, colorless glee.

“That is idiotic!” she hissed at him, then lowered her voice. “Take off the pressure…and they will
regroup
! Then they will come after
me
!”

The blond major, her constant and now intensely annoying shadow, danced ineffectually around, trying to interpose himself. But Vara just as deftly maneuvered around him. Sinter was left with the impression he was in a small and embarrassing riot. By walking crabwise toward the open door of his secondary office, Sinter managed this small squall into a less public container.

“You lost the trail!” he said, half bark, half sigh, as a Grey shut the door behind them. The Grey merely glanced at the trio, then went about her duties, nonplussed.

“I was pulled away!” Vara howled. Tears started from her eyes and poured down her cheeks. Abruptly, the major stopped his dance and stood in one spot, trembling all over, his limbs jerking. Then, he looked for a chair, saw one in a corner, and collapsed into it. Sinter witnessed this with wide eyes.

“Did you do that?” he asked Vara.

Vara shut her mouth with a small click of teeth, pulled back her head on its long, thin neck, and stared at the major. “Of course not. Though he has been abominable,
and
uncooperative.”

“The strain—” the major managed between clenched, clattering teeth.

Sinter stared at her for several seconds, until Vara realized she was arousing some very unhealthy suspicions. Major Namm shook himself, steadied, and managed to stand again, swallowing hard. He came to attention, rather ridiculously, and focused on a wall opposite.

“How
did
you lose her?” Farad Sinter asked softly, looking between them.

“It was not her fault,” the major said.

“I asked
her
,” Sinter said.

“She was very fast, and she sensed my presence,” Vara Liso began. “Your agents, your bumbling police, weren’t fast
enough to catch her—and now she’s gone, and you
won’t let me find her
!”

Sinter’s lips protruded in thought, pressed together as if waiting for a kiss. It was a ludicrous expression, and suddenly, in Vara Liso’s heart, what had started out as admiration and love flip-flopped into bitterness and hatred.

She kept her feelings to herself, however. She had already said too much, gone too far.
Did I whip that young officer?
She glanced at the stiff, silent man with a small measure of guilt. She must keep her abilities in check.

“The Emperor has specifically forbidden me from conducting any more of our searches. He does not seem to share our interest in these…people. And for the moment, I’m not going to press my advantage and try to convince him to change his mind. The Emperor has his ways, and they must be observed.”

Vara stood with hands folded.

“He was convinced by Hari Seldon that this could look very bad, politically.”

Vara’s eyes widened. “But Seldon supports
them
!”

“We don’t know that for sure.”

“But they were recruiting me! His granddaughter!”

Farad reached out and took her by the wrist, then tightened his grip ever so slightly. She winced. “That is a fact to be kept just between you and me. What Seldon’s granddaughter does may or may not be connected to the ‘Raven’ himself. Perhaps the whole family is crazy, each in his unique way.”

“But we’ve discussed—”

“Seldon is done for. After his trial, we can pursue those intimately connected to him. Once Linge Chen has satisfied himself, the Emperor will likely not object to our cleaning up the scraps.” Sinter gave Vara Liso a pitying glare.

“What is it?” she asked, quivering.

“Don’t ever assume I am giving up.
Ever
. What I do is much too important.”

“Of course,” Vara Liso said, subdued. She stared down at
the plush carpet under the desk, with its weave of huge brown and red flowers.

“We’ll have our time again, and soon. But for now, we simply constrain our enthusiasm and dedication, and wait.”

“Of course,” Vara Liso said.

“Are you all right?” Sinter asked the young major solicitously.

“Yes, sir,” the man said.

“Been ill recently?”

“No, sir.”

Sinter seemed to dismiss the problem, and the officer, with a wave. Major Namm retreated hastily, pulling the large door shut behind him without a sound.

“You’ve been under a strain,” Sinter said.

“Perhaps I have,” Vara said, her shoulders slumping. She smiled weakly at him.

“A little rest, some recreation.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a credit chit. “This will get you into the Imperial Sector retail emporium. A little discreet shopping, perhaps.”

Vara’s forehead furled. Then her face went smooth and she took the chit and smiled. “Thank you.”

“It’s nothing. Come back in a few days. Things might have changed. I’ll assign a different officer to protect you.”

“Thank you,” Vara Liso said.

Sinter touched her chin with one finger. “You are valuable, you know,” he said, and was secretly disgusted by the look of sheer need on the woman’s exceedingly unattractive face.