Isaac Asimov - Foundation and Earth

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.”

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 scrape-down (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.