Isaac Asimov - Foundation and Earth

“Perhaps we’ll leave,” said Trevize. “Let me think about it, and Hiroko will play no part in my decision, I assure you.”

Pelorat said, “I feel we ought to move on to Earth, if only to see whether it is radioactive or not. I see no point in waiting longer.”

“Are you sure it’s not Bliss’s dark eyes that drive you?” said Trevize, a bit spitefully. Then, almost at once, “No, I take that back, Janov. I was just being childish. Still—this is a charming world, quite apart from Hiroko, and I must say that under other circumstances, I would be tempted to remain indefinitely. —Don’t you think, Bliss, that Alpha destroys your theory about Isolates?”

“In what way?” asked Bliss.

“You’ve been maintaining that every truly isolated world turns dangerous and hostile.”

“Even Comporellon,” said Bliss evenly, “which is rather out of the main current of Galactic activity for all that it is, in theory, an Associated Power of the Foundation Federation.”

“But not Alpha. This world is totally isolated, but can you complain of their friendliness and hospitality? They feed us, clothe us, shelter us, put on festivals in our honor, urge us to stay on. What fault is there to find with them?”

“None, apparently. Hiroko even gives you her body.”

Trevize said angrily, “Bliss, what bothers you about that? She didn’t give me her body. We gave each other our bodies. It was entirely mutual, entirely pleasurable. Nor can you say that you hesitate to give your body as it suits you.”

“Please, Bliss,” said Pelorat. “Golan is entirely right. There is no reason to object to his private pleasures.”

“As long as they don’t affect us,” said Bliss obdurately.

“They do not affect us,” said Trevize. “We will leave, I assure you. A delay to search further for information will not be long.”

“Yet I don’t trust Isolates,” said Bliss, “even when they come bearing gifts.”

Trevize flung up his arms. “Reach a conclusion, then twist the evidence to fit. How like a—”

“Don’t say it,” said Bliss dangerously. “I am not a woman. I am Gaia. It is Gaia, not I, who is uneasy.”

“There is no reason to—” And at that point there was a scratching at the door.

Trevize froze. “What’s that?” he said, in a low voice.

Bliss shrugged lightly. “Open the door and see. You tell us this is a kindly world that offers no danger.”

Nevertheless, Trevize hesitated, until a soft voice from the other side of the door called out softly, “Please. It is I!”

It was Hiroko’s voice. Trevize threw the door open.

Hiroko entered quickly. Her cheeks were wet.

“Close the door,” she gasped.

“What is it?” asked Bliss.

Hiroko clutched at Trevize. “I could not stay away. I tried, but I endured it not. Go thou, and all of you. Take the youngster with you quickly. Take the ship away—away from Alpha—while it is yet dark.”

“But why?” asked Trevize.

“Because else wilt thou die; and all of you.”

The three Outworlders stared frozenly at Hiroko for a long moment. Then Trevize said, “Are you saying your people will kill us?”

Hiroko said, as the tears rolled down her cheeks, “Thou art already on the road to death, respected Trevize. And the others with you. —Long ago, those of learning devised a virus, harmless to us, but deadly to Outworlders. We have been made immune.” She shook Trevize’s arm in distraction. “Thou art infected.”

“How?”

“When we had our pleasure. It is one way.”

Trevize said, “But I feel entirely well.”

“The virus is as yet inactive. It will be made active when the fishing fleet returns. By our laws, all must decide on such a thing—even the men. All will surely decide it must be done, and we keep you here till that time, two mornings hence. Leave now while it is yet dark and none suspects.”

Bliss said sharply, “Why do your people do this?”

“For our safety. We are few and have much. We do not wish Outworlders to intrude. If one cometh and then reporteth our lot, others will come, and so when, once in a long while, a ship arriveth, we must make certain it leaveth not.”

“But then,” said Trevize, “why do you warn us away?”

“Ask not the reason. —Nay, but I will tell you, since I hear it again. Listen—”

From the next room, they could hear Fallom playing softly—and infinitely sweetly.

Hiroko said, “I cannot bear the destruction of that music, for the young one will also die.”

Trevize said sternly, “Is that why you gave the flute to Fallom? Because you knew you would have it once again when she was dead?”

Hiroko looked horrified. “Nay, that was not in my mind. And when it came to mind at length, I knew it must not be done. Leave with the child, and with her, take the flute that I may never see it more. Thou wilt be safe back in space and, left inactive, the virus now in thy body will die after a time. In return, I ask that none of you ever speak of this world, that none else may know of it.”

“We will not speak of it,” said Trevize.

Hiroko looked up. In a lower voice, she said, “May I not kiss thee once ere thou leavest?”

Trevize said, “No. I have been infected once and surely that is enough.” And then, a little less roughly, he added, “Don’t cry. People will ask why you are crying and you’ll be unable to reply. —I’ll forgive what you did to me in view of your present effort to save us.”

Hiroko straightened, carefully wiped her cheeks with the back of her hands, took a deep breath, and said, “I thank thee for that,” and left quickly.

Trevize said, “We will put out the light, and we will wait awhile, and then we will leave. —Bliss, tell Fallom to stop playing her instrument. Remember to take the flute, of course. —Then we will make our way to the ship, if we can find it in the dark.”

“I will find it,” said Bliss. “Clothing of mine is on board and, however dimly, that, too, is Gaia. Gaia will have no trouble finding Gaia.” And she vanished into her room to collect Fallom.

Pelorat said, “Do you suppose that they’ve managed to damage our ship in order to keep us on the planet?”

“They lack the technology to do it,” said Trevize grimly. When Bliss emerged, holding Fallom by the hand, Trevize put out the lights.

They sat quietly in the dark for what seemed half the night, and might have been half an hour. Then Trevize slowly and silently opened the door. The sky seemed a bit more cloudy, but stars shone. High in the sky now was Cassiopeia, with what might be Earth’s sun burning brightly at its lower tip. The air was still and there was no sound.

Carefully, Trevize stepped out, motioning the others to follow. One of his hands dropped, almost automatically, to the butt of his neuronic whip. He was sure he would not have to use it, but—

Bliss took the lead, holding Pelorat’s hand, who held Trevize’s. Bliss’s other hand held Fallom, and Fallom’s other hand held the flute. Feeling gently with her feet in the nearly total darkness, Bliss guided the others toward where she felt, very weakly, the Gaianess of her clothing on board the Far Star .

The Far Star took off quietly, rising slowly through the atmosphere, leaving the dark island below. The few faint dots of light beneath them dimmed and vanished, and as the atmosphere grew thinner with height, the ship’s speed grew greater, and the dots of light in the sky above them grew more numerous and brighter.

Eventually, they looked down upon the planet, Alpha, with only a crescent illuminated and that crescent largely wreathed in clouds.