Isaac Asimov - Robots and Empire

“Good! A wise decision.”

“And we will deliver them as quickly as we can.”

“Again a wise decision.”

“Thank you.” D.G. gave the signal and his ship Jumped.

There was no time, no need, to hold one’s breath. It was over as soon as it was begun—or, at least, the time lapse was insensible.

The word came from the pilot. “New enemy ship position fixed, Captain.”

“Good,” said D.G. “You know what to do.”

The ship had come out of the Jump at high speed relative to the Auroran vessel and the course correction (not a great deal, it was to, be hoped) was being made. Then further acceleration.

D.G. moved back into focus, “We are close, Commander, and on our way to deliver. You may fire if you choose, but our shields are up and before you can batter them down we will have reached you in order to make the delivery.”

“Are you sending a lifeboat?” The commander moved out of focus.

D.G. waited and the commander was back, his face contorted. “What is this? Your ship is on a collision course.”

“It seems to be, yes,” said D.G. “That is the fastest way of making delivery.”

“You will destroy your ship.”

“And yours, too. Your ship is at least fifty times as expensive as mine, probably more. A poor exchange for Aurora.”

“But you are engaging in combat in Earth space, Captain. Your customs do not allow that.”

“Ah, you know our customs and you take advantage of them.—But I am not in combat. I have not fired an erg of energy and I won’t. I am merely following a trajectory. That trajectory happens to intersect your position, but since I am sure you will move before that intersection movement arrives, it is clear that I intend no violence.”

“Stop. Let’s talk about this.”

“I’m tired of talking, Commander. Shall we all say a fond farewell? If you don’t move, I will be giving up perhaps four decades with the third and fourth not so good, anyway. How many will you be giving up?” And D.G. moved out of focus and stayed out.

A beam of radiation shot out from the Auroran ship tentative, as though to test whether the other’s shields were truly up. They were.

Ship’s shields would hold against electromagnetic radiation and subatomic particles, including even neutrinos, and could withstand the kinetic energy of small masses—dust particles, even meteoric gravel. The shields could not withstand larger kinetic energies, such as that of an entire ship hurtling at it with supermeteoric speed.

Even dangerous masses, if not guided—a meteoroid, for instance—could be handled. A vessel’s computers would automatically veer the ship out of the way of any oncoming meteoroid that was too large for the shield to handle. That, however, would not work against a ship that could veer as its target veered. And if the Settler ship was the smaller of the two, it was also the more maneuverable.

There was only one way that the Auroran ship could avoid destruction—

D.G. watched the other ship visibly enlarging in his viewing panel and wondered if Gladia, in her cabin, knew what was going on. She must be aware of the acceleration, despite the hydraulic suspension of her cabin ~ and the compensatory action of the pseudo-gravity field.

And then the other ship simply winked out of view, having jumped away, and D.G., with considerable chagrin, realized he was holding his breath and that his heart was racing. Had he had no confidence in the protecting influence of Earth or in his own sure diagnosis of the situation?

D.G. spoke into the transmitter in a voice that, with iron resolution, he forced into coolness. “Well done, men! Correct course and head for Earth.”

Gladia said, “Are you serious, D.G.? You really intended to collide with the ship?”

“Not at all,” said D.G. indifferently. “I wasn’t expecting to. I merely lunged at them, knowing they would retreat. Those Spacers weren’t going to risk their long, wonderful lives when they could easily preserve them.”

“Those Spacers? What cowards they are.”

D.G. cleared his throat. “I keep forgetting you’re a Spacer, Gladia.”

“Yes—and I imagine you think that that is a compliment to me. What if they had been as foolish as you—if they had shown the childish madness you think of as bravery and stayed in place? What would you have done?”

D.G. muttered, “Hit them.”

“And then we would all have died.”

“The transaction would have been in our favor, Gladia. One crummy old Trader ship from a Settler world for a new and advanced warship, of the leading Spacer world.”

D.G. tipped his chair back against the wall and put his hands behind his neck (amazing how comfortable he felt, now that it was all over). “I once saw a historical hyperdrama, in which, toward the end of the war, airplanes loaded with explosives were deliberately flown into much more expensive seaships in order to sink them. Of course, the pilot of each airplane lost his life.”

“That was fiction,” said Gladia. “You don’t suppose civilized people do things like that in real life, do you?”

“Why not? If the cause is good enough.”

“What was it, then, you felt as you plunged toward a glorious death? Exaltation? You were hurtling all your crew toward the same death.”

“They knew about it. We could do nothing else. Earth was watching.”

“The people on Earth didn’t even know.”

“I mean it metaphorically. We were in Earth space. We could not act ignobly.”

“Oh, what nonsense! And you risked my life, too.”

D.G. looked down at his boots. “Would you like to hear something crazy? That was the only thing that bothered me.”

“That I would die?”

“Not quite. That I would lose you.—When that ship ordered me to give you up, I knew I wouldn’t—even if you asked me to. I would gladly ram them instead; they couldn’t have you. And then, as I watched their ship expand in the viewscreen, I thought, “If they don’t get out of here, I’ll lose her anyway, and that’s when my heart started to pound and I began to sweat. I knew they’d run, and still the thought—” He shook his head.

Gladia frowned. “I don’t understand you. You weren’t worrying about my dying, but you were worried about losing me? Don’t the two go together?”

“I know. I’m not saying it’s rational. I thought of you rushing at the overseer to save me when you knew it could murder you with a blow. I thought of you facing the crowd at Baleyworld and talking them down when you had never even seen a crowd before. I even thought of you going to Aurora when you were a young woman and learning a new way of life—and surviving.—And it seemed to me I didn’t mind dying, I just minded losing you. You’re right. It doesn’t make sense.”

Gladia said thoughtfully, “Have you forgotten my age? I was just about as old as I am now when you were born. When I was your age, I used to dream of your remote Ancestor. What’s more, I’ve got an artificial hip joint. My left thumb—this one right here”—she wiggled it—”is strictly prosthetic. Some of my nerves have been rebuilt. My teeth are all implanted ceramic. And you talk as though any moment you’re going to confess a transcendent passion. For what?—For whom?—Think, D.G.!—Look at me and see me as I am!”

D.G. tilted his chair back on two legs and rubbed at his beard with an odd scraping sound. “All right. You’ve made me sound silly, but I’m going to keep right on. What I know about your age is that you’re going to survive me and look scarcely any older when you do, so you’re younger than I am, not older. Besides, I don’t care if you are older. What I would like is for you to stay with me wherever I go—for all my life, if possible.”