Isaac Asimov - Robots and Empire

“Because our sensors did observe one thing you did not observe—or, at any rate, did not report.”

“What might that be, Secretary-General?”

“It caught the launching of an orbital module, which seems to have had two human beings on board and which descended toward Earth.”

The two were immersed in a world of their own. No other human being on the balcony was paying any attention to them. Only the two robots flanking D.G. were staring at them and listening.

It was at this point that the speaker ceased, his last words being, “Lady Gladia, born a Spacer on the world of Solaria, living as a Spacer on the world of Aurora, but becoming a Citizen of the Galaxy on the Settler world of Baleyworld.” He turned to her and gestured expansively, “Lady Gladia—”

The sound of the crowd became a long, happy rumble and the many-headed crowd became a forest of waving arms. Gladia felt a gentle hand on her shoulder and heard a voice in her ear that said, “Please. A few words, my lady.”

Gladia said weakly, “People of Earth.” The words boomed out and, uncannily, silence fell. Gladia said again, more, firmly, “People of Earth, I stand before you a human being as you are. A bit older, I admit, so that I lack your youth, your hopefulness, your capacity for enthusiasm. My misfortune is tempered at this moment, however, by the fact that in your presence I feel myself catching your fire, so that the cloak of age falls away—”

Applause swelled and someone on the balcony said to someone else, “She’s making them happy they’re shortlived. That Spacer woman has the impudence of a devil.”

Andrev was not paying attention. He said to D.G., “The whole episode with you may have been a device to get those men on Earth.”

D.G. said, “I had no way of knowing that. I could think of very little else but saving Lady Gladia and my ship. Where have they landed?”

“We don’t know. They have not landed in any of the City spaceports.”

D.G. said, “I guess they wouldn’t.”

“Not that it matters,” said the Secretary-General, “except, to give me passing annoyance. Over the past several years, there have been a number of landings of this sort, though none so carefully prepared. Nothing’s ever happened and we pay no attention. Earth, after all, is an open world. It is humanity’s home and any person from any world can come and go freely—even Spacers, if they wish.”

D.G. rubbed his beard with a rasping noise. “And yet their intentions might not be to do us any good whatever.”

(Gladia was saying, “I wish you all well on this world of human origin, on this well-packed special world, and in this marvel of a City—” and acknowledged the gathering applause with a smile and a wave as she stood there and allowed the enthusiasm to catch—and gather.)

Andrev raised his voice, to be heard over the clamor of the crowd. “Whatever their intentions, it can come to nothing. The peace that has descended on Earth since the Spacers withdrew and Settlement began is unbreakable within and without. For many decades now, the wilder spirits among ourselves have been leaving for the Settler worlds so that a spirit such as yours, Captain, which can dare risk the destruction of two vessels within the space of the Solar system is not to be found on Earth. There is no substantial level of crime on Earth any longer, no violence. The security guards assigned to control this crowd have no weapons because they have no need for any.”

And as he spoke, from the anonymity of the vast crowd a blaster pointed upward toward the balcony and was carefully aimed.

A number of things happened at nearly the same time.

Giskard’s head had turned to stare at the crowd, drawn by some sudden effect.

Daneel’s eyes followed, saw the aimed blaster, and, with faster-than-human reflexes, he lunged.

The sound of the blaster rang out.

The people on the balcony froze and then broke out into loud exclamations.

D.G. seized Gladia and snatched her to one side.

The noise from the crowd erupted into a full-throated and terrifying roar.

Daneel’s lunge had been directed at Giskard and he knocked the other robot down.

The shot from the blaster entered the room behind the balcony and gouged a hole out of a portion of the ceiling. A line drawn from the blaster to the hole might have passed through that portion of space occupied a second earlier by Giskard’s head.

Giskard muttered as he was forced down. “Not human. A robot.”

Daneel, releasing Giskard, surveyed the scene quickly. Ground level was some six meters beneath the balcony and the space below was empty. The security guards were struggling their way toward the region of upheaval within the crowd that marked the spot where the would-be assassin had stood.

Daneel vaulted over the balcony and dropped, his metal skeleton absorbing the shock easily, as a human being’s would not have.

He ran toward the crowd.

Daneel had no choice. He had never encountered anything like this before. The supreme need was to reach the robot with the blaster before it was destroyed and, with that in mind, Daneel found that, for the first time in his existence, he could not stand on the niceties of preserving individual human beings from harm. He had to shake them up somewhat.

He tossed them aside, in actual fact, as he plowed into the crowd, crying out in stentorian fashion, “Make way! Make way! The person with the blaster must be questioned!”

Security guards fell in behind him and they found the person at last, down and somewhat battered.

Even on an Earth that prided itself on being nonviolent, an eruption of rage against an obvious murderer left its mark. The assassin had been seized, kicked, and beaten. It was only the very density of the crowd that had saved the assassin from being torn apart. The multiple assailants, getting in each other’s way, succeeded in doing comparatively little.

The security guards pushed back the crowd with difficulty. On the ground near the prone robot was the blaster. Daneel ignored it.

Daneel was kneeling by the captured assassin. He said, “Can you talk?”

Bright eyes stared up at Daneel’s. “I can,” said the assassin in a voice that was low but quite normal otherwise.

“Are you of Auroran origin?”

The assassin did not answer.

Daneel said quickly, “I know you are. It was an unnecessary question. Where on this planet is your base?”

The assassin did not answer.

Daneel said, “Your base? Where is it? You must answer. I am ordering you to answer.”

The assassin said. “You cannot order me. You are R. Daneel Olivaw. I have been told of you and I need not obey you.”

Daneel looked up, touched the nearest guard, and said, “Sir, would you ask this person where his base is?”

The guard, startled, tried to speak but only a hoarse croak emerged. He swallowed in embarrassment, cleared his throat, and then barked out, “Where is your base?”

“I am forbidden to answer that question, sir,” said the assassin.

“You must,” said Daneel firmly. “A planetary official is asking it.—Sir, would you order him to answer it?”

The guard echoed, “I order you to answer it, prisoner.”

“I am forbidden to answer that question, sir.”

The guard reached downward to seize the assassin roughly by the shoulder, but Daneel said rapidly, “I would suggest that it would not be useful to offer force, sir.”

Daneel looked about. Much of the clamor of the crowd had died down. There seemed to be a tension in the air, as though a million people were waiting anxiously to see what Daneel would do.

Daneel said to the several guards who had now clustered about him and the prone assassin, “Would you clear the way for me, sirs? I must take the prisoner to Lady Gladia. It may be that she can force an answer.”