Isaac Asimov - Robots and Empire

Daneel said nothing.

Niss nodded his head. “Good. I like to see someone smart enough not to start anything he can’t finish.”

He turned to Gladia, “Now, little Spacer woman, we will leave you alone because the captain doesn’t want you bothered. If one of the men here made a crude remark, that’s only natural. Just shake hands and let’s be friends—Spacer, Settler, what’s the difference?”

He thrust out his hand toward Gladia, who shrank away in horror. Daneel’s hand moved outward in a flick that was almost too fast to see and caught Niss’s wrist. “First-Class Shipper Niss,” he said quietly, “do not attempt to touch the lady.”

Niss looked down at his hand and at the fingers that enclosed his wrist firmly. He said in a low and menacing growl, “You have till the count of three to let go.”

Daneel’s hand fell away. He said, “I must do as you say for I do not wish to harm you, but I must protect the lady and if she doesn’t wish to be touched, as I believe she doesn’t, I may be forced into a position where I must cause you pain. Please, accept my assurance that I will do all I can to minimize that.”

One of the crewmen shouted joyously, “Give it to him, Niss. He’s a talker.”

Niss said, “Look, Spacer, twice I told you to keep out and you touched me once. Now I tell you a third time and that’s it. Make a move, say a word, and I take you apart. This little woman is going to shake hands, that’s all, friendly like. Then we all go. Fair enough?”

Gladia said in a low choking voice. “I won’t be touched by him. Do what is necessary.”

Daneel said, “Sir, with all due respect, the lady does not wish to be touched. I must ask you—all of you—to leave.”

Niss smiled and one large arm moved as though to brush Daneel to one side—and to do it hard.

Daneel’s left arm flickered and once again Niss was held by the wrist. “Please go, sir,” said Daneel.

Niss’s teeth continued to show, but he was no longer smiling. Violently, he brought his arm up. Daneel’s enclosing hand moved up for a short distance, slowed, and came to a halt. His face showed no strain. His hand moved down, dragging Niss’s arm with it, and then, with a rapid twist, he bent Niss’s arm behind the Settler’s broad back and held it there.

Niss, who found himself unexpectedly with his back to Daneel, brought his other arm up over his head, groping for Daneel’s neck. His other wrist was seized and pulled down farther than it could easily go and Niss grunted in clear misery.

The other four crewmen, who had been watching in eager anticipation, remained in place now, motionless, silent, mouths open.

Niss, staring at them, grunted, “Help me!”

Daneel said, “They will not help you, sir, for the captain’s punishment will be all the worse if they try. I must ask you now to assure me that you will no longer trouble Madam Gladia and that you will leave quietly, all of you. Otherwise, I very much regret, First-Class Shipper, that I must pull your arms out of their sockets.”

As he said that, he tightened his grip on either wrist and Niss emitted a muffled grunt.

“My apologies, sir,” said Daneel, “but I am under the strictest orders. May I have your assurance?”

Niss kicked backward with sudden viciousness, but well before his—heavy boot could make contact,—Daneel had faded to one side and pulled him off-balance. He went facedown heavily.

“May I have your assurance, sir?” said Daneel, now pulling gently at the two wrists so that the crewman’s arms lifted slightly up from the back.

Niss howled and said, half-incoherent, “I give in. Let go.”

Daneel let go at once and stepped back. Slowly and painfully, Niss rolled over, moving his arms slowly and rotating his wrists with a twisted grimace.

Then, when his right arm moved near the holster he wore, he snatched clumsily at his sidearm.

Daneel’s foot came down on his hand and pinned it to the ground. “Don’t do that, sir, or I may be forced to break one or more of the small bones in your hand.” He bent down and extracted Niss’s blaster from its holster. “Now stand up.”

“Well, Mr. Niss,” came another voice. “Do as you are told and stand up.”

D.G. Baley was standing at their side, beard bristling, face slightly flushed, but his voice was dangerously calm.

“You four,” he said, “hand me your sidearms, one at a time. Come on. Move a little faster. One-two-three-four. Now continue to stand there at attention. Sir,” this to Daneel—“give me that sidearm you are holding. Good. Five. And now, Mr. Niss, at attention.” And he placed the blasters on the ground beside him.

Niss stiffened to attention, eyes bloodshot, face contorted, in obvious pain.

“Would someone,” said D.G., “please say what has been going on?”

“Captain,” said Daneel quickly, “Mr. Niss and I have had a playful altercation. No harm has been done.”

“Mr. Niss, however, looks somewhat harmed,” said D.G.

“No permanent harm, Captain,” said Daneel.

“I see. Well, we’ll get back to this later.—Madam,” he turned on his heel to address Gladia—“I don’t recall that I gave you permission to emerge from the ship. You will go back to your cabin with your two companions at once. I am captain here and this is not Aurora. Do as I say!”

Daneel placed an apologetic hand on Gladia’s elbow. Her chin lifted, but she, turned and went up the gangplank and into the ship, Daneel at her side, Giskard following.

D.G. then turned to the crewmen. “You five,” he said, his voice never lifting from its flat calm, “come with me. We’ll get to the bottom of this—or of you.” And he gestured to a petty officer to pick up the sidearms and take them away.

D.G. stared at the five grimly. He was in his own quarters, the only portion of the ship that had a semblance of size to it and the beginnings of an appearance of luxury.

He said, pointing to each in turn, “Now, this is the way we’ll work it. You tell me exactly what happened, word for word, motion for motion. When you’re finished, you tell me anything that was wrong or left out. Then you the same, and then you, and then I’ll get to you, Niss. I expect that you were all out of order, that you all did something unusually stupid that earned you all, but especially Niss, considerable humiliation. If, in your story, it would appear that you did nothing wrong and suffered no humiliation, then I’ll know you’re lying, especially as the Spacer woman will surely tell me what happened and I intend to believe every word she says. A lie will make matters worse for you than anything you’ve actually done. Now,” he barked, “start!”

The first crewman stumbled hastily through the story, and then the second, somewhat correcting, somewhat expanding, then the third and the fourth. D.G. listened, stony faced, to the recital, then motioned Berto Niss to one side.

He spoke to the other four, “And while Niss was getting his face rightly mashed into the dirt by the Spacer, what were you four doing? Watching? Scared to move? All four of you? Against one man?”

One of the men broke the thickening silence to say, “It all happened so quick, Captain. We we’re just getting set to move in and then it was all over.”

“And what were you getting ready to do in case you did manage to get to move someday?”

“Well, we were going to pull the Spacer foreigner off our mate.”

“Do you think you could have?”

This time no one offered to make a sound.

D.G. leaned toward them. “Now, here’s the situation. You had no business with the foreigners, so you’re fined one week’s pay each. And now—let’s get something straight. If you tell what has happened to anyone else—in the crew or out, now or ever, whether drunk or sober, you’ll be broken, every one of you, to apprentice shipper. It doesn’t matter which one of you talks, you’ll all four be broken, so keep an eye on each other. Now get to your assigned tasks and if you cross me at any time during this voyage, if you as much as hiccup against regulations, you’ll be in the brig.”