Isaac Asimov - Robots and Empire

“We might consider it an important message, then—to them. What do they want?”

“They want the Solarian woman back again.”

“Obviously, then, they know our ship got away from Solaria and has come to Baleyworld. They have their monitoring stations, too, and eavesdrop on our communications as we eavesdrop on theirs.”

“Absolutely,” said Pandaral with considerable irritation. “They break our codes as fast as we break theirs. My own feeling is we ought to come to an agreement that we both send messages in the clear. Neither of us would be worse off.”

“Did they say why they want the woman?”

“Of course not. Spacers don’t give reasons; they give orders.”

“Have they found out exactly what it was that the woman accomplished on Solaria? Since she’s the only person who speaks authentic Solarian, do they want her to clear the planet of its overseers?”

“I don’t see how they could have found out, D.G. We only announced her role last night. The message from Aurora was received well before that.—But it doesn’t matter why they want her. The question is: What do we do? If we don’t return her, we may have a crisis with Aurora that I don’t want. If we do return her, it will look bad to the Baleyworlders and Old Man Bistervan will have a field day pointing out that we’re crawling to the Spacers.”

They stared at each other, then D.G. said slowly, “We’ll have to return her. After all, she’s a Spacer and an Auroran citizen. We can’t keep her against Aurora’s will or we’ll put at risk every Trader who ventures into Spacer territory on business. But I’ll take her back, Director, and you can put the blame on me. Say that the conditions of my taking her to Solaria were that I would return her to Aurora, which is true, actually, even if not a matter of written formality, and that I am a man of ethics and felt I had to keep my agreement.—And it may turn out to our advantage.”

“In what way?”

“I’ll have to work it out. But if it’s to be done, Director, my ship will have to be refitted at planetary expense. And my men will need healthy bonuses.—Come, Director, they’re giving up their leave.”

Considering that he had not intended to be in his ship again for at least three additional months, D.G. seemed in genial spirits.

And considering that Gladia had larger and more luxurious quarters than she had before, she seemed rather depressed.

“Why all this?” she asked.

“Looking a gift horse in the mouth?” asked D.G.

“I’m just asking. Why?”

“For one thing, my lady, you’re a class-A heroine and when the ship was refurbished, this place was rather tarted up for you.”

“Tarted up?”

“Just an expression. Fancied up, if you prefer.”

“This space wasn’t just created. Who lost out?”

“Actually, it was the crew’s lounge, but they insisted, you know. You’re their darling, too. In fact, Niss—you remember Niss?”

“Certainly.”

“He wants you to take him on in place of Daneel. He says Daneel doesn’t enjoy the job and keeps apologizing to his victims. Niss says he will destroy anyone who gives you the least trouble, will take pleasure in it, and will never apologize.”

Gladia smiled. “Tell him I will keep his offer in mind and tell him I would enjoy shaking his hand if that can be arranged. I didn’t get a chance to do so before we landed on Baleyworld.”

“You’ll wear your gloves, I hope, when you shake hands.”

“Of course, but I wonder if that’s entirely necessary. I haven’t as much as sniffed since I left Aurora. The injections I’ve been getting have probably strengthened my immune system beautifully.” She looked about again. “You even have wall niches for Daneel, and Giskard. That’s quite thoughtful of you, D.G.”

“Madam,” said D.G., “we work hard to please and we’re delighted that you’re pleased.”

“Oddly enough”—Gladia sounded as though she were actually puzzled by what she was about to say—“I’m not entirely pleased. I’m not sure I want to leave your world.”

“No? Cold—snow—dreary—primitive—endlessly cheering crowds everywhere. What can possibly attract you here?”

Gladia reddened. “It’s not the cheering crowds.”

“I’ll pretend to believe you, madam.”

“It’s not. It’s something altogether different. I—I have never done anything. I’ve amused myself in various trivial ways, I’ve engaged in force-field coloring and robot exodesign. I’ve made love and been a wife and mother and—and—in none of these things have I ever been an individual of any account. If I had suddenly disappeared from existence, or if I had never been born, it wouldn’t have affected anyone or anything—except, perhaps, one, or two close personal friends. Now it’s different.”

“Yes?” There was the faintest touch of mockery in D.G.’s voice.

Gladia said, “Yes! I can influence people. I can choose a cause and make it my own. I have chosen a cause. I want to prevent war. I want the Universe populated by Spacer and Settler alike. I want each group to keep their own peculiarities, yet freely accept the others, too. I want to work so hard at this that after I am gone, history will have changed because of me and people will say things would not be as satisfactory as they are had it not been for her.”

She turned to D.G., her face glowing. “Do you know what a difference it makes, after two and one-third centuries of being nobody, to have a chance, of being somebody; to find that a life you thought of as empty turns out to contain something after all, something wonderful; to be happy long, long after you had given up any hope of being happy?”

“You don’t have to be on Baleyworld, my lady, to have all that.” Somehow D.G. seemed a little abashed.

“I wouldn’t have it on Aurora. I’m only a Solarian immigrant on Aurora. On a Settler world, I’m a Spacer, something unusual.”

“Yet on a number of occasions—and quite forcefully you have stated you wanted to return to Aurora.”

“Some time ago, yes—but I’m not saying it now, D.G. I don’t really want it now.”

“Which would influence us a great deal, except that Aurora wants you. They’ve told us so.”

Gladia was clearly astonished. “They want me?”

“An official message from Aurora’s Chairman of the Council tells us they do,” said D.G. lightly. “We would enjoy keeping you, but the Directors have decided that keeping you is not worth an interstellar crisis. I’m not sure I agree with them, but they outrank me.”

Gladia frowned. “Why should they want me? I’ve been on Aurora for over twenty decades and at no time have they ever seemed to want me.—Wait! Do you suppose they see me now as the only way of stopping the overseers on Solaria?”

“That thought had occurred to me, my lady.”

“I won’t do it. I held off that one overseer by a hair and I may never be able to repeat what I did then. I know I won’t.—Besides, why need they land on the planet? They can destroy the overseers from a distance, now that they know what they are.”

“Actually,” said D.G., “the message demanding your return was sent out long before they could possibly have known of your conflict with the overseer. They must want you for something else.”

“Oh—” She looked taken aback. Then, catching fire again, “I don’t care what else. I don’t want to return. I have my work out here and I mean to continue it.”

D.G. rose. “I am glad to hear you say so, Madam Gladia. I was hoping you would feel like that. I promise you I will do my best to take you with me when we leave Aurora. Right now, though, I must go to Aurora and you must go with me.