The Robots of Dawn
Chapter 16. AGAIN GLADIA
66
Afterward, looking back and estimating times, it would appear that Baley had remained unconscious not less than ten minutes and not more than twenty.
At the time, though, it might have been anything from zero to infinity. He was conscious of a voice. He could not hear the words it spoke, just a voice. He puzzled over the fact that it sounded odd and solved the matter to his satisfaction by recognizing it as a woman's voice.
There were arms around him, lifting him, heaving him. One arm - his arm - dangled. His head lolled.
He tried feebly to straighten out, but nothing happened. The woman's voice again.
He opened his eyes wearily. He was aware of being cold and wet and suddenly realized that water was not striking him. And it was not dark, not entirely. There was a dim suffusing, of light and, by it, he saw a robot's face.
He recognized it. "Giskard," he whispered and with that he remembered the storm and the flight. And Giskard had reached him first; he had found him before the other robots had.
Baley thought contentedly: I knew he would.
He let his eyes close again and felt himself moving rapidly but with the slight - yet definite - unevenness that meant he was being carried by someone who was walking. Then a stop and a slow adjustment until he was resting on something quite warm and comfortable. He knew it was the seat of a car covered, perhaps, with toweling, but did not question how he knew.
Then there was the sensation of smooth motion through the air and the feeling of soft absorbent fabric over his face and hands, the tearing open of his blouse, cold air upon his chest, and then the drying and blotting again.
After that, the sensations crowded in upon him.
He was in an establishment. There were flashes of walls, of illumination, of objects (miscellaneous shapes of furnishings) which he saw now and then when he opened his eyes.
He felt his clothes being stripped off methodically and made a few feeble and useless attempts to cooperate, then he felt warm water and vigorous scrubbing. It went on and on and he didn't want it to stop.
At one point, a thought occurred to him and he seized the arm that was holding him. "Giskard! Giskard!"
He heard Giskard's voice, "I am here, sir."
"Giskard, is Daneel safe?"
"He is quite safe, sir."
"Good." Baley closed his eyes again and made no effort whatever in connection with the drying. He felt himself turned over and over in the stream of dry air and then he was being dressed again in something like a warm robe.
Luxury! Nothing like this had happened to him since he was an infant and he was suddenly sorry for the babies for whom everything was done and who were not sufficiently conscious of it to enjoy it.
Or did they? Was the hidden memory of that infant luxury a determinant of adult behavior? Was his own feeling now just an expression of the delight of being an infant again?
And he had heard a woman's voice. Mother?
No, that couldn't possibly be.
Mamma?
He was sitting in a chair now. He could sense as much and he could also feel, somehow, that the short happy period of renewed infancy was coming to an end. He had to return to the sad world of self-consciousness and selfhelp.
But there had been a woman's voice. - What woman?
Baley opened his eyes. "Gladia?"
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It was a question, a surprised question, but deep within himself he was not really surprised. Thinking back, he had, of course, recognized her voice.
He looked around. Giskard was standing in his alcove, but he ignored him. First things first.
He said, "Where's Daneel?"
Gladia said, "He has cleaned and dried himself in the robot's quarters and he has dry clothing. He is surrounded by my household staff and they have their instructions. I can tell you that no outsider will approach within fifty meters of my establishment in any direction without our all knowing it at once. Giskard is cleaned and dried as well."
"Yes, I can see that," said Baley. He was not concerned with Giskard, only with Daneel - He was relieved that Gladia seemed to accept the necessity of guarding Daneel and that he would not have to face the complications of explaining the matter.
Yet there was one breach in the wall of security and a note of querulousness entered in his voice as he said, "Why did you leave him, Gladia? With you gone, there was no human being in the house to stop the approach of a band of outside robots. Daneel could have been taken by force."
"Nonsense," said Gladia with spirit. "We were not gone long and Dr. Fastolfe had been informed. Many of his robots had joined mine and he could be on the spot in minutes if needed - and I'd like to see any band of outside robots withstand him."
"Have you seen Daneel since you returned, Gladia?"
"Of course! He's safe, I tell you."
"Thank you!" Baley relaxed and closed his eyes. Oddly enough, he thought: It wasn't so bad.
Of course it wasn't. He had survived, hadn't he? When he thought that, something inside himself grinned and was happy.
He had survived, hadn't he?
He opened his eyes and said, "How did you find me, Gladia?"
"It was Giskard. They had come here - both of them - and Giskard explained the situation to me quickly. I set right about securing Daneel, but he wouldn't budge until I had promised to order Giskard out after you. He was very eloquent. His responses with respect to you are very intense, Elijah.
"Daneel remained behind, of course. It made him very unhappy, but Giskard insisted that I order him to stay at the very top of my voice. You must have given Giskard some mighty strict orders. Then we got in touch with Dr. Fastolfe and, after that, we took my personal airfoil."
Baley shook his head wearily. "You should not have come along, Gladia. Your place was here, making sure Daneel was safe."
Gladia's face twisted into scorn. "And leave you dying in the storm, for all we knew? Or being taken up by Dr. Fastolfe's enemies? I have a little holograph of myself letting that happen. No, Elijah, I might have been needed to keep the other robots away from you if they had gotten to you first. I may not be much good in most ways, but any Solarian can handle a mob of robots, let me tell you. We're used to it."
"But how did you find me?"
"It wasn't so terribly hard. Actually, your airfoil wasn't far away, so that we could have walked it, except for the storm. We - "
Baley said, "You mean we had almost made it to Fastolfe's?"
"Yes," said Gladia. "Either your airfoil, in being damaged, wasn't damaged sufficiently to force you to a standstill sooner or Giskard's skill kept it going for longer than the vandals had anticipated. Which is a good thing. If you had come down closer to the Institute, they might have gotten you all. Anyway, we took my airfoil to where yours had come down. Giskard knew where it was, of course, and we got out - "
"And you got all wet, didn't you, Gladia?"
"Not a bit," she replied. "I had a large rain shade and a light sphere, too. My shoes got muddy and my feet got a little damp because I didn't have time to spray on Latex, but there's no ham in that. - Anyway, we were back at your airfoil less than half an hour after Giskard and Daneel had left you and, of course, you weren't there."
"I had tried - " began Baley.
"Yes, we know. I thought they - the others - had taken you away because Giskard said you were being followed. But Giskard found your handkerchief about fifty meters from the airfoil and he said that you must have wandered off in that direction. Giskard said, it was an illogical thing to do, but that human beings were often illogical, so that we should search for you. So we looked - both of us - using the lightsphere, but it was he who found you. He said he saw the infrared glimmer of your body heat at the base of the tree and we brought you back."
Baley said, with a spark of annoyance, "Why was my leaving an illogical thing to do?"
"He didn't say, Elijah. Do you wish to ask him?" She gestured toward Giskard.
Baley said, "Giskard, what's this?"
Giskard's impassivity was disrupted at once and his eyes focused on Baley. He said, "I felt that you had exposed yourself to the storm unnecessarily. If you had waited, we would have brought you here sooner."
"The other robots might have gotten to me first."
"They did - but you had sent them away, sir."
"How do you know that?"
"There were many robotic footprints around the doors on either side, sir, but there was no sign of dampness within the airfoil, as there would have been if wet arms had reached in to lift you out. I judged you would not have gotten out of the airfoil of your own accord in order to join them, sir. And, having sent them away, you need not have feared they would return very quickly, since it was Daneel they were after - by your own estimate of the situation - and not you. In addition, you might have been certain that I would have been back quickly."
Baley muttered, "I reasoned precisely in that manner but I felt that confusing the issue might help further. I did what seemed best to me and you did find me, even so."
"Yes, sir."
Baley said, "But why bring me here? If we were close to Gladia's establishment, we were just as close, perhaps closer, to Dr. Fastolfe's."
"Not quite, sir. This residence was somewhat closer and I judged, from the urgency of your orders, that every moment counted in securing Daneel's safety. Daneel concurred in this, though he was most reluctant to leave you. Once he was here, I felt you would want to be here, too, so that you could, if you desired, assure yourself of his safety firsthand."
Baley nodded and, said grumpily (he was still annoyed at that remark concerning his illogicality), "You did well, Giskard."
Gladia said, "Is it important that you see Dr. Fastolfe, Elijah? I can have him summoned here. Or you can view him trimensionally."
Baley leaned back in his chair again. He had leisure to realize that his thought processes were blunted and that he was very tired. It would do him no good to face Fastolfe now. He said, "No. I'll see him tomorrow after breakfast. Time enough. And then I think I'll be seeing this man, Kelden Amadiro, the head of the Robotics Institute. And a high official - what d'you call him? - the Chairman. He will be there, too, I suppose."
"You look terribly tired, Elijah," said Gladia. "Of course, we don't have those microorganisms - those germs and viruses - that you have on Earth and you've been cleaned out so you won't get any of the diseases they have all over your planet, but you're clearly tired."
Baley thought: After all that, no cold? No flu? No pneumonia? - There was something to being on a Spacer world at that.
He said, "I admit I'm tired, but that can be cured by a bit of rest."
"Are you hungry? It's dinnertime."
Baley made a face. "I don't feel like eating."
"I'm not sure that's wise. You don't want a heavy meal, perhaps, but how about some hot soup. It will do you good."
Baley felt the urge to smile. She might be Solarian, but given the proper circumstances she sounded exactly like art Earth-woman. He suspected that this would be true of Aurorans as well. There are some things that differences in culture don't touch.
He said, "Do you have soup available? I don't want to be a problem."
"How can you be a problem? I have a staff - not a large one, as on Solaria, but enough to prepare any reasonable item of food on short order. - Now you just sit there and tell me, what kind of soup you would like. It will all be taken care of."
Baley couldn't resist. "Chicken soup?"
"Of course." Then innocently, "Just what I would have suggested - and with lumps of chicken, so that it will be substantial."
The bowl was put before him with surprising speed. He said, "Aren't you going to eat, Gladia?"
"I've eaten already, while you were being bathed and treated."
"Treated?"
"Only routine biochemical adjustment, Elijah. You had been rather psychic-damaged and we wanted no repercussions. - Do eat!"
Baley lifted an experimental spoonful to his lips. It was not bad chicken soup, though it had the queer tendency of Auroran food to be rather spicier than Baley would prefer. Or perhaps it was prepared with different spices than those he was used to.
He remembered his mother suddenly - a sharp thrust of memory that made her appear younger than he himself was right now. He remembered her standing over him when he rebelled at eating his "nice soup."
She would say to him, "Come, Lije. This is real chicken and very expensive. Even the Spacers don't have anything better."
They didn't. He called to her in his, mind across the years: They don't, Mom!
Really! If he could trust memory and allow for the power of youthful taste buds, his mother's chicken soup, when it wasn't dulled by repetition, was far superior.
He sipped again and again - and when he finished, he muttered in a shamefaced way, "Would there be a little more?"
"As much as you want, Elijah."
"Just a little more."
Gladia said to him, as he was finishing, "Elijah, this meeting tomorrow morning - "
"Yes, Gladia?"
"Does it mean that your investigation is over? Do you know what happened to Jander?"
Baley said judiciously, "I have an idea as to what might have happened to Jander. I don't think I can necessarily persuade anyone that I am right."
"Then why are you having the conference?"
"It's not my idea, Gladia. It's Master Roboticist Amadiro's idea. He objects to the investigation and he's going to try to have me sent back to Earth."
"Is he the one who tampered with your airfoil and tried to have his robots take Daneel?"
"I think he is."
"Well, can't he be tried and convicted and punished for that?"
"He certainly could," said Baley feelingly, "except for the very small problem that I can't prove it."
"And can he do all that and get away with it - and stop the investigation, too?"
"I'm afraid he has a good chance of being able to do so. As he himself says, people who don't expect justice don't have to suffer disappointment."
"But he mustn't. You mustn't let him. You've got to complete your investigation and find out the truth."
Baley sighed. "What if I can't find out the truth? Or what if I can - but can't make people listen to me?"
"You can find out the truth. And you can make people listen to you."
"You have a touching faith in me, Gladia. Still, if the Auroran World Legislature wants to send me back and orders the investigation ended, there's nothing I'm going to be able to do about it."
"Surely you won't be willing to go back with nothing accomplished."
"Of course I won't. It's worse than just accomplishing nothing, Gladia. I'll go back with my career ruined and with Earth's future destroyed."
"Then don't let them do that, Elijah."
And he said, "Jehoshaphat, Gladia, I'm going to try not to, but I can't lift a planet with my bare hands. You can't ask me for miracles."
Gladia nodded and, eyes downcast, put her fist to her mouth, sitting there motionlessly, as though in thought. It took a while for Baley to realize that she was weeping soundlessly.
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Baley stood up quickly and walked around the table to her. He noted absently - and with some annoyance - that his legs were trembling and that there was a tic in the muscle of his right thigh.
"Gladia," he said urgently, "don't cry."
"Don't bother, Elijah," she whispered. "It will pass."
He stood helplessly at her side, reaching out to her yet hesitating. "I'm not touching you," he said. "I don't think I had better do so, but - "
"Oh, touch me. Touch me. I'm not all that fond of my body, and I won't catch anything from you. I'm not - what I used to be."
So Baley reached out and touched her elbow and stroked it very slightly and clumsily with his fingertips. "I'll do what I can tomorrow, Gladia," he said. "I'll give it my very best try."
She rose at that, turned toward him, and said, "Oh, Elijah."
Automatically, scarcely knowing what he was doing, Baley held out his arms. And, just as automatically, she walked into them and he was holding her while her head cradled - against his chest.
He held her as lightly as he could, waiting for her to realize that she was embracing an Earthman. (She had undoubtedly embraced a humaniform robot, but he had been no Earthman.)
She sniffed loudly and spoke while her mouth was half obscured in Baley's shirt.
She said, "It isn't fair. It's because I'm a Solarian. No one really cares what happened to Jander and they would if I were an Auroran. It just boils down to prejudice and politics."
Baley thought: Spacers are people. This is exactly what Jessie would say in a similar situation. And if it were Gremionis who was holding Gladia, he'd say exactly what I'll say - if I knew what I would say.
And then he said, "That's not entirely so. I'm sure Dr. Fastolfe cares what happened to Jander."
"No, he doesn't. Not really. He just wants to have his way in the Legislature, and that Amadiro wants to have his way, and either one would trade Jander for his way."
"I promise you, Gladia, I won't trade Jander for anything."
"No? If they tell you that you can go back to Earth with your career saved and no penalty for your world, provided you forget all about Jander, what would you do?"
"There's no use setting up hypothetical situations that can't possibly come to pass. They're not going to give me anything in return for abandoning Jander. They're just going to try to send me back with nothing at all except ruin for me and my world. But, if they were to let me, I would get the man who destroyed Jander and see to it that he was adequately punished."
"What do you mean if they were to let you? Make them let you!"
Baley smiled bitterly. "If you think Aurorans pay no attention to you because you're a Solarian, imagine how little you would get if you were from Earth, as I am."
He held her closer, forgetting he was from Earth, even as he said the word. "But I'll try, Gladia. It's no use raising hopes, but I don't have a completely empty hand. I'll try - "
His voice trailed off.
"You keep saying, you'll try. - But how?" She pushed away from him a bit to look up into his face.
Baley said, bewildered, "Why, I may - "
"Find the murderer?"
"Whatever. - Gladia, please, I must sit down."
He reached out for the table, leaning on it.
She said, "What is it, Elijah?"
"I've had a difficult day, obviously, and I haven't quite recovered, I think."
"You'd better go to bed, then."
"To tell the truth, Gladia, I would like to."
She released him, her face full of concern and with no further room in it for tears. She lifted her arm and made a rapid motion and he was (it seemed to him) surrounded by robots at once.
And when, he was in bed eventually and the last robot had left him, he found himself staring up at darkness.
He could not tell whether it was still raining Outside or whether some feeble lightning flashes were still making their last sleepy sparks, but he knew he heard no thunder.
He drew a deep breath and thought: Now what is it I have promised Gladia? What will happen tomorrow?
Last act: Failure?
And as Baley drifted into the borderland of sleep, he thought of that unbelievable flash of illumination that had come before sleep.
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Twice before, it had happened. Once the night before when, as now, he was falling asleep and once earlier this evening when he had slipped into unconsciousness beneath the tree in the storm. Each time, something had occurred to him, some enlightenment that had unmystified the problem as the lightning had undarkened the night.
And it had stayed with him as briefly as the lightning had.
What was it?
Would it come to him again?
This time, he tried consciously to seize it, to catch the elusive truth. - Or was it the elusive illusion? Was it the slipping away of conscious reason and the coming of attractive nonsense that one couldn't analyze properly in the absence of a properly thinking brain?
The search for whatever it was, however, slid slowly away. It would no more come on call than a unicorn would in a world in which unicorns did not exist.
It was easier to think of Gladia and of how she had felt. There had been the direct touch of the silkiness of her blouse, but beneath it were the small and delicate arms, the smooth back.
Would he have dared to kiss her if his legs had not begun to buckle beneath him? Or would that have been going too far?
He heard his breath exhale in a soft snore and, as always, that embarrassed him. He flogged himself awake and thought of Gladia again. Before he left, surely - but not if he could gam nothing for her in ret - Would that be payment for services then - He heard the soft snore again and cared less this time.
Gladia - He had never thought he would see her again - let alone touch her - let alone hold her - hold her -
And he had no way of telling at what point he passed from thought to dream.
He was holding her again, as before - But there was no blouse - and her skin was warm and soft - and his hand moved slowly down the slope of shoulder blade and down the hidden ridges of her ribs -
There was a total aura of reality about it. All of his senses were engaged. He smelled her hair and his lips tasted the faint, faint salt of her skin - and now somehow they were no longer standing. Had they lain down or were they lying down from the start? And what had happened to the light?
He felt the mattress beneath him and the cover over him darkness - and she was still in his arms and her body was bare.
He was shocked awake. "Gladia?"
Rising inflection - disbelieving -
"Shh, Elijah." She placed the fingers of one hand gently on his lips. "Don't say anything."
She might as well have asked him to stop the current of his blood.
He said, "What are you doing?"
She said, "Don't you know what I'm doing? I'm in bed with you."
"But why?"
"Because I want to." Her body moved against his.
She pinched the top of his night garment and the seam that held it together fell apart.
"Don't move, Elijah. You're tired and I don't want you to wear yourself out further."
Elijah felt a warmth stirring within him. He decided not to protect Gladia against herself. He said, "I'm not that tired, Gladia."
"No," she said sharply. "Rest! I want you to rest. Don't move."
Her mouth was on his as though intent on forcing him to keep quiet. He relaxed and the small thought flitted past him that he was following orders that he was tired and was willing to be done to rather than to do. And, tinged with shame, it occurred to him that it rather diluted his guilt. (I couldn't help it, he heard, himself say. She made me.) Jehoshaphat, how cowardly! How unbearably demeaning!
But those thoughts washed away, too. Somehow there was soft music in the air and the temperature had risen a bit. The cover had vanished and so had his nightclothes. He felt his head moved into the cradle of her arms and pressed against softness.
With a detached surprise, he knew, from her position, that the softness was her left breast and that it was centered, contrastingly, with its nipple hard against his lips.
Softly, she was singing to the music, a sleepily joyful tune he did not recognize.
She rocked gently back and forth and her fingertips grazed his chin and neck. He relaxed, content to do nothing, to let her initiate and carry through every activity. When she moved his arms, he did not resist and let them rest wherever she placed them.
He did not help and, when he did respond with heightened excitement and climax, it was only out of helplessness to do otherwise.
She seemed tireless and he did not want her to stop. Aside from the sensuality of sexual response, he felt again what he had felt earlier, the total luxury of the infant's passivity.
And, finally, he could respond no more and, it seemed, she could do no more and she lay with her head in the hollow where his left shoulder met his chest and her left arm lay across his ribs, her fingers stroking the short, curling hairs tenderly.
He seemed to hear her murmuring, "Thank you - Thank you - "
For what? he wondered.
He was scarcely conscious of her now, for this utterly soft end of a hard day was as soporific as, the fabled nepenthe and he could feel himself slipping away, as though his fingertips were relaxing from the edge of the cliff of harsh reality in order that he might drop - drop - through the soft clouds of gathering sleep into the slowly swaying ocean of dreams.
And as he did so, what had not come on call came of itself. For the third time, the curtain was lifted and all the events since he had left Earth shuffled once more into hard focus. Again, it was all clear. He struggled to speak, to hear the words he needed to hear, to fix them and make them part of his thought processes, but though he clutched at them with every tendril of his mind, they slipped past and through and were gone.
So that, in this respect, Baley's second day on Aurora ended very much as his first had.
Afterward, looking back and estimating times, it would appear that Baley had remained unconscious not less than ten minutes and not more than twenty.
At the time, though, it might have been anything from zero to infinity. He was conscious of a voice. He could not hear the words it spoke, just a voice. He puzzled over the fact that it sounded odd and solved the matter to his satisfaction by recognizing it as a woman's voice.
There were arms around him, lifting him, heaving him. One arm - his arm - dangled. His head lolled.
He tried feebly to straighten out, but nothing happened. The woman's voice again.
He opened his eyes wearily. He was aware of being cold and wet and suddenly realized that water was not striking him. And it was not dark, not entirely. There was a dim suffusing, of light and, by it, he saw a robot's face.
He recognized it. "Giskard," he whispered and with that he remembered the storm and the flight. And Giskard had reached him first; he had found him before the other robots had.
Baley thought contentedly: I knew he would.
He let his eyes close again and felt himself moving rapidly but with the slight - yet definite - unevenness that meant he was being carried by someone who was walking. Then a stop and a slow adjustment until he was resting on something quite warm and comfortable. He knew it was the seat of a car covered, perhaps, with toweling, but did not question how he knew.
Then there was the sensation of smooth motion through the air and the feeling of soft absorbent fabric over his face and hands, the tearing open of his blouse, cold air upon his chest, and then the drying and blotting again.
After that, the sensations crowded in upon him.
He was in an establishment. There were flashes of walls, of illumination, of objects (miscellaneous shapes of furnishings) which he saw now and then when he opened his eyes.
He felt his clothes being stripped off methodically and made a few feeble and useless attempts to cooperate, then he felt warm water and vigorous scrubbing. It went on and on and he didn't want it to stop.
At one point, a thought occurred to him and he seized the arm that was holding him. "Giskard! Giskard!"
He heard Giskard's voice, "I am here, sir."
"Giskard, is Daneel safe?"
"He is quite safe, sir."
"Good." Baley closed his eyes again and made no effort whatever in connection with the drying. He felt himself turned over and over in the stream of dry air and then he was being dressed again in something like a warm robe.
Luxury! Nothing like this had happened to him since he was an infant and he was suddenly sorry for the babies for whom everything was done and who were not sufficiently conscious of it to enjoy it.
Or did they? Was the hidden memory of that infant luxury a determinant of adult behavior? Was his own feeling now just an expression of the delight of being an infant again?
And he had heard a woman's voice. Mother?
No, that couldn't possibly be.
Mamma?
He was sitting in a chair now. He could sense as much and he could also feel, somehow, that the short happy period of renewed infancy was coming to an end. He had to return to the sad world of self-consciousness and selfhelp.
But there had been a woman's voice. - What woman?
Baley opened his eyes. "Gladia?"
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It was a question, a surprised question, but deep within himself he was not really surprised. Thinking back, he had, of course, recognized her voice.
He looked around. Giskard was standing in his alcove, but he ignored him. First things first.
He said, "Where's Daneel?"
Gladia said, "He has cleaned and dried himself in the robot's quarters and he has dry clothing. He is surrounded by my household staff and they have their instructions. I can tell you that no outsider will approach within fifty meters of my establishment in any direction without our all knowing it at once. Giskard is cleaned and dried as well."
"Yes, I can see that," said Baley. He was not concerned with Giskard, only with Daneel - He was relieved that Gladia seemed to accept the necessity of guarding Daneel and that he would not have to face the complications of explaining the matter.
Yet there was one breach in the wall of security and a note of querulousness entered in his voice as he said, "Why did you leave him, Gladia? With you gone, there was no human being in the house to stop the approach of a band of outside robots. Daneel could have been taken by force."
"Nonsense," said Gladia with spirit. "We were not gone long and Dr. Fastolfe had been informed. Many of his robots had joined mine and he could be on the spot in minutes if needed - and I'd like to see any band of outside robots withstand him."
"Have you seen Daneel since you returned, Gladia?"
"Of course! He's safe, I tell you."
"Thank you!" Baley relaxed and closed his eyes. Oddly enough, he thought: It wasn't so bad.
Of course it wasn't. He had survived, hadn't he? When he thought that, something inside himself grinned and was happy.
He had survived, hadn't he?
He opened his eyes and said, "How did you find me, Gladia?"
"It was Giskard. They had come here - both of them - and Giskard explained the situation to me quickly. I set right about securing Daneel, but he wouldn't budge until I had promised to order Giskard out after you. He was very eloquent. His responses with respect to you are very intense, Elijah.
"Daneel remained behind, of course. It made him very unhappy, but Giskard insisted that I order him to stay at the very top of my voice. You must have given Giskard some mighty strict orders. Then we got in touch with Dr. Fastolfe and, after that, we took my personal airfoil."
Baley shook his head wearily. "You should not have come along, Gladia. Your place was here, making sure Daneel was safe."
Gladia's face twisted into scorn. "And leave you dying in the storm, for all we knew? Or being taken up by Dr. Fastolfe's enemies? I have a little holograph of myself letting that happen. No, Elijah, I might have been needed to keep the other robots away from you if they had gotten to you first. I may not be much good in most ways, but any Solarian can handle a mob of robots, let me tell you. We're used to it."
"But how did you find me?"
"It wasn't so terribly hard. Actually, your airfoil wasn't far away, so that we could have walked it, except for the storm. We - "
Baley said, "You mean we had almost made it to Fastolfe's?"
"Yes," said Gladia. "Either your airfoil, in being damaged, wasn't damaged sufficiently to force you to a standstill sooner or Giskard's skill kept it going for longer than the vandals had anticipated. Which is a good thing. If you had come down closer to the Institute, they might have gotten you all. Anyway, we took my airfoil to where yours had come down. Giskard knew where it was, of course, and we got out - "
"And you got all wet, didn't you, Gladia?"
"Not a bit," she replied. "I had a large rain shade and a light sphere, too. My shoes got muddy and my feet got a little damp because I didn't have time to spray on Latex, but there's no ham in that. - Anyway, we were back at your airfoil less than half an hour after Giskard and Daneel had left you and, of course, you weren't there."
"I had tried - " began Baley.
"Yes, we know. I thought they - the others - had taken you away because Giskard said you were being followed. But Giskard found your handkerchief about fifty meters from the airfoil and he said that you must have wandered off in that direction. Giskard said, it was an illogical thing to do, but that human beings were often illogical, so that we should search for you. So we looked - both of us - using the lightsphere, but it was he who found you. He said he saw the infrared glimmer of your body heat at the base of the tree and we brought you back."
Baley said, with a spark of annoyance, "Why was my leaving an illogical thing to do?"
"He didn't say, Elijah. Do you wish to ask him?" She gestured toward Giskard.
Baley said, "Giskard, what's this?"
Giskard's impassivity was disrupted at once and his eyes focused on Baley. He said, "I felt that you had exposed yourself to the storm unnecessarily. If you had waited, we would have brought you here sooner."
"The other robots might have gotten to me first."
"They did - but you had sent them away, sir."
"How do you know that?"
"There were many robotic footprints around the doors on either side, sir, but there was no sign of dampness within the airfoil, as there would have been if wet arms had reached in to lift you out. I judged you would not have gotten out of the airfoil of your own accord in order to join them, sir. And, having sent them away, you need not have feared they would return very quickly, since it was Daneel they were after - by your own estimate of the situation - and not you. In addition, you might have been certain that I would have been back quickly."
Baley muttered, "I reasoned precisely in that manner but I felt that confusing the issue might help further. I did what seemed best to me and you did find me, even so."
"Yes, sir."
Baley said, "But why bring me here? If we were close to Gladia's establishment, we were just as close, perhaps closer, to Dr. Fastolfe's."
"Not quite, sir. This residence was somewhat closer and I judged, from the urgency of your orders, that every moment counted in securing Daneel's safety. Daneel concurred in this, though he was most reluctant to leave you. Once he was here, I felt you would want to be here, too, so that you could, if you desired, assure yourself of his safety firsthand."
Baley nodded and, said grumpily (he was still annoyed at that remark concerning his illogicality), "You did well, Giskard."
Gladia said, "Is it important that you see Dr. Fastolfe, Elijah? I can have him summoned here. Or you can view him trimensionally."
Baley leaned back in his chair again. He had leisure to realize that his thought processes were blunted and that he was very tired. It would do him no good to face Fastolfe now. He said, "No. I'll see him tomorrow after breakfast. Time enough. And then I think I'll be seeing this man, Kelden Amadiro, the head of the Robotics Institute. And a high official - what d'you call him? - the Chairman. He will be there, too, I suppose."
"You look terribly tired, Elijah," said Gladia. "Of course, we don't have those microorganisms - those germs and viruses - that you have on Earth and you've been cleaned out so you won't get any of the diseases they have all over your planet, but you're clearly tired."
Baley thought: After all that, no cold? No flu? No pneumonia? - There was something to being on a Spacer world at that.
He said, "I admit I'm tired, but that can be cured by a bit of rest."
"Are you hungry? It's dinnertime."
Baley made a face. "I don't feel like eating."
"I'm not sure that's wise. You don't want a heavy meal, perhaps, but how about some hot soup. It will do you good."
Baley felt the urge to smile. She might be Solarian, but given the proper circumstances she sounded exactly like art Earth-woman. He suspected that this would be true of Aurorans as well. There are some things that differences in culture don't touch.
He said, "Do you have soup available? I don't want to be a problem."
"How can you be a problem? I have a staff - not a large one, as on Solaria, but enough to prepare any reasonable item of food on short order. - Now you just sit there and tell me, what kind of soup you would like. It will all be taken care of."
Baley couldn't resist. "Chicken soup?"
"Of course." Then innocently, "Just what I would have suggested - and with lumps of chicken, so that it will be substantial."
The bowl was put before him with surprising speed. He said, "Aren't you going to eat, Gladia?"
"I've eaten already, while you were being bathed and treated."
"Treated?"
"Only routine biochemical adjustment, Elijah. You had been rather psychic-damaged and we wanted no repercussions. - Do eat!"
Baley lifted an experimental spoonful to his lips. It was not bad chicken soup, though it had the queer tendency of Auroran food to be rather spicier than Baley would prefer. Or perhaps it was prepared with different spices than those he was used to.
He remembered his mother suddenly - a sharp thrust of memory that made her appear younger than he himself was right now. He remembered her standing over him when he rebelled at eating his "nice soup."
She would say to him, "Come, Lije. This is real chicken and very expensive. Even the Spacers don't have anything better."
They didn't. He called to her in his, mind across the years: They don't, Mom!
Really! If he could trust memory and allow for the power of youthful taste buds, his mother's chicken soup, when it wasn't dulled by repetition, was far superior.
He sipped again and again - and when he finished, he muttered in a shamefaced way, "Would there be a little more?"
"As much as you want, Elijah."
"Just a little more."
Gladia said to him, as he was finishing, "Elijah, this meeting tomorrow morning - "
"Yes, Gladia?"
"Does it mean that your investigation is over? Do you know what happened to Jander?"
Baley said judiciously, "I have an idea as to what might have happened to Jander. I don't think I can necessarily persuade anyone that I am right."
"Then why are you having the conference?"
"It's not my idea, Gladia. It's Master Roboticist Amadiro's idea. He objects to the investigation and he's going to try to have me sent back to Earth."
"Is he the one who tampered with your airfoil and tried to have his robots take Daneel?"
"I think he is."
"Well, can't he be tried and convicted and punished for that?"
"He certainly could," said Baley feelingly, "except for the very small problem that I can't prove it."
"And can he do all that and get away with it - and stop the investigation, too?"
"I'm afraid he has a good chance of being able to do so. As he himself says, people who don't expect justice don't have to suffer disappointment."
"But he mustn't. You mustn't let him. You've got to complete your investigation and find out the truth."
Baley sighed. "What if I can't find out the truth? Or what if I can - but can't make people listen to me?"
"You can find out the truth. And you can make people listen to you."
"You have a touching faith in me, Gladia. Still, if the Auroran World Legislature wants to send me back and orders the investigation ended, there's nothing I'm going to be able to do about it."
"Surely you won't be willing to go back with nothing accomplished."
"Of course I won't. It's worse than just accomplishing nothing, Gladia. I'll go back with my career ruined and with Earth's future destroyed."
"Then don't let them do that, Elijah."
And he said, "Jehoshaphat, Gladia, I'm going to try not to, but I can't lift a planet with my bare hands. You can't ask me for miracles."
Gladia nodded and, eyes downcast, put her fist to her mouth, sitting there motionlessly, as though in thought. It took a while for Baley to realize that she was weeping soundlessly.
68
Baley stood up quickly and walked around the table to her. He noted absently - and with some annoyance - that his legs were trembling and that there was a tic in the muscle of his right thigh.
"Gladia," he said urgently, "don't cry."
"Don't bother, Elijah," she whispered. "It will pass."
He stood helplessly at her side, reaching out to her yet hesitating. "I'm not touching you," he said. "I don't think I had better do so, but - "
"Oh, touch me. Touch me. I'm not all that fond of my body, and I won't catch anything from you. I'm not - what I used to be."
So Baley reached out and touched her elbow and stroked it very slightly and clumsily with his fingertips. "I'll do what I can tomorrow, Gladia," he said. "I'll give it my very best try."
She rose at that, turned toward him, and said, "Oh, Elijah."
Automatically, scarcely knowing what he was doing, Baley held out his arms. And, just as automatically, she walked into them and he was holding her while her head cradled - against his chest.
He held her as lightly as he could, waiting for her to realize that she was embracing an Earthman. (She had undoubtedly embraced a humaniform robot, but he had been no Earthman.)
She sniffed loudly and spoke while her mouth was half obscured in Baley's shirt.
She said, "It isn't fair. It's because I'm a Solarian. No one really cares what happened to Jander and they would if I were an Auroran. It just boils down to prejudice and politics."
Baley thought: Spacers are people. This is exactly what Jessie would say in a similar situation. And if it were Gremionis who was holding Gladia, he'd say exactly what I'll say - if I knew what I would say.
And then he said, "That's not entirely so. I'm sure Dr. Fastolfe cares what happened to Jander."
"No, he doesn't. Not really. He just wants to have his way in the Legislature, and that Amadiro wants to have his way, and either one would trade Jander for his way."
"I promise you, Gladia, I won't trade Jander for anything."
"No? If they tell you that you can go back to Earth with your career saved and no penalty for your world, provided you forget all about Jander, what would you do?"
"There's no use setting up hypothetical situations that can't possibly come to pass. They're not going to give me anything in return for abandoning Jander. They're just going to try to send me back with nothing at all except ruin for me and my world. But, if they were to let me, I would get the man who destroyed Jander and see to it that he was adequately punished."
"What do you mean if they were to let you? Make them let you!"
Baley smiled bitterly. "If you think Aurorans pay no attention to you because you're a Solarian, imagine how little you would get if you were from Earth, as I am."
He held her closer, forgetting he was from Earth, even as he said the word. "But I'll try, Gladia. It's no use raising hopes, but I don't have a completely empty hand. I'll try - "
His voice trailed off.
"You keep saying, you'll try. - But how?" She pushed away from him a bit to look up into his face.
Baley said, bewildered, "Why, I may - "
"Find the murderer?"
"Whatever. - Gladia, please, I must sit down."
He reached out for the table, leaning on it.
She said, "What is it, Elijah?"
"I've had a difficult day, obviously, and I haven't quite recovered, I think."
"You'd better go to bed, then."
"To tell the truth, Gladia, I would like to."
She released him, her face full of concern and with no further room in it for tears. She lifted her arm and made a rapid motion and he was (it seemed to him) surrounded by robots at once.
And when, he was in bed eventually and the last robot had left him, he found himself staring up at darkness.
He could not tell whether it was still raining Outside or whether some feeble lightning flashes were still making their last sleepy sparks, but he knew he heard no thunder.
He drew a deep breath and thought: Now what is it I have promised Gladia? What will happen tomorrow?
Last act: Failure?
And as Baley drifted into the borderland of sleep, he thought of that unbelievable flash of illumination that had come before sleep.
69
Twice before, it had happened. Once the night before when, as now, he was falling asleep and once earlier this evening when he had slipped into unconsciousness beneath the tree in the storm. Each time, something had occurred to him, some enlightenment that had unmystified the problem as the lightning had undarkened the night.
And it had stayed with him as briefly as the lightning had.
What was it?
Would it come to him again?
This time, he tried consciously to seize it, to catch the elusive truth. - Or was it the elusive illusion? Was it the slipping away of conscious reason and the coming of attractive nonsense that one couldn't analyze properly in the absence of a properly thinking brain?
The search for whatever it was, however, slid slowly away. It would no more come on call than a unicorn would in a world in which unicorns did not exist.
It was easier to think of Gladia and of how she had felt. There had been the direct touch of the silkiness of her blouse, but beneath it were the small and delicate arms, the smooth back.
Would he have dared to kiss her if his legs had not begun to buckle beneath him? Or would that have been going too far?
He heard his breath exhale in a soft snore and, as always, that embarrassed him. He flogged himself awake and thought of Gladia again. Before he left, surely - but not if he could gam nothing for her in ret - Would that be payment for services then - He heard the soft snore again and cared less this time.
Gladia - He had never thought he would see her again - let alone touch her - let alone hold her - hold her -
And he had no way of telling at what point he passed from thought to dream.
He was holding her again, as before - But there was no blouse - and her skin was warm and soft - and his hand moved slowly down the slope of shoulder blade and down the hidden ridges of her ribs -
There was a total aura of reality about it. All of his senses were engaged. He smelled her hair and his lips tasted the faint, faint salt of her skin - and now somehow they were no longer standing. Had they lain down or were they lying down from the start? And what had happened to the light?
He felt the mattress beneath him and the cover over him darkness - and she was still in his arms and her body was bare.
He was shocked awake. "Gladia?"
Rising inflection - disbelieving -
"Shh, Elijah." She placed the fingers of one hand gently on his lips. "Don't say anything."
She might as well have asked him to stop the current of his blood.
He said, "What are you doing?"
She said, "Don't you know what I'm doing? I'm in bed with you."
"But why?"
"Because I want to." Her body moved against his.
She pinched the top of his night garment and the seam that held it together fell apart.
"Don't move, Elijah. You're tired and I don't want you to wear yourself out further."
Elijah felt a warmth stirring within him. He decided not to protect Gladia against herself. He said, "I'm not that tired, Gladia."
"No," she said sharply. "Rest! I want you to rest. Don't move."
Her mouth was on his as though intent on forcing him to keep quiet. He relaxed and the small thought flitted past him that he was following orders that he was tired and was willing to be done to rather than to do. And, tinged with shame, it occurred to him that it rather diluted his guilt. (I couldn't help it, he heard, himself say. She made me.) Jehoshaphat, how cowardly! How unbearably demeaning!
But those thoughts washed away, too. Somehow there was soft music in the air and the temperature had risen a bit. The cover had vanished and so had his nightclothes. He felt his head moved into the cradle of her arms and pressed against softness.
With a detached surprise, he knew, from her position, that the softness was her left breast and that it was centered, contrastingly, with its nipple hard against his lips.
Softly, she was singing to the music, a sleepily joyful tune he did not recognize.
She rocked gently back and forth and her fingertips grazed his chin and neck. He relaxed, content to do nothing, to let her initiate and carry through every activity. When she moved his arms, he did not resist and let them rest wherever she placed them.
He did not help and, when he did respond with heightened excitement and climax, it was only out of helplessness to do otherwise.
She seemed tireless and he did not want her to stop. Aside from the sensuality of sexual response, he felt again what he had felt earlier, the total luxury of the infant's passivity.
And, finally, he could respond no more and, it seemed, she could do no more and she lay with her head in the hollow where his left shoulder met his chest and her left arm lay across his ribs, her fingers stroking the short, curling hairs tenderly.
He seemed to hear her murmuring, "Thank you - Thank you - "
For what? he wondered.
He was scarcely conscious of her now, for this utterly soft end of a hard day was as soporific as, the fabled nepenthe and he could feel himself slipping away, as though his fingertips were relaxing from the edge of the cliff of harsh reality in order that he might drop - drop - through the soft clouds of gathering sleep into the slowly swaying ocean of dreams.
And as he did so, what had not come on call came of itself. For the third time, the curtain was lifted and all the events since he had left Earth shuffled once more into hard focus. Again, it was all clear. He struggled to speak, to hear the words he needed to hear, to fix them and make them part of his thought processes, but though he clutched at them with every tendril of his mind, they slipped past and through and were gone.
So that, in this respect, Baley's second day on Aurora ended very much as his first had.
