52

It had been a long time since Amadiro had thought of the humanoid robots. It was a painful thought and he had, with some difficulty, trained himself to keep his mind away from that topic. And now Mandamus had unexpectedly brought it up.

The humanoid robot had been Fastolfe's great trump card in those long-gone days when Amadiro had been within a millimeter of taking the game, trump card and all. Fastolfe had designed and built two humanoid robots (of which one still existed) and no one else could build any. The entire membership of the Robotics Institute, working together, could not build them.

All that Amadiro had salvaged out of his great defeat had been that trump card. Fastolfe had been forced to make public the nature of the humanoid design.

That meant humanoid robots could be built and were built and - behold - they were not wanted. The Aurorans would not have them in their society.

Amadiro's mouth twisted in the remnant of remembered chagrin. The tale of the Solarian woman had somehow come to be known - the fact that she had had the use of Jander, one of Fastolfe's two humanoid robots, and that the use had been sexual. Aurorans had no objection to such a situation in theory. When they stopped to think of it, however, Auroran women simply did not enjoy the thought of having to compete with robot women. Nor did Auroran men wish to compete with robot men.

The Institute had labored mightily to explain that the humanoid robots were not intended for Aurora itself, but were meant to serve as the initial wave of pioneers who would seed and adjust new habitable planets for Aurorans to occupy later, after they had been terraformed.

That, too, was rejected, as suspicion and objection fed on itself. Someone had called the humanoids "the entering wedge." The expression spread and the Institute was forced to give up.

Stubbornly, Amadiro had insisted on mothballing those which existed for possible future use - a use that had never yet materialized.

Why had there been this objection to the humanoids?

Amadiro felt a faint return of the irritation that had all but poisoned his life those n any decades ago. Fastolfe himself, though reluctant, had agreed to back the project and, to do him justice, had done so, though without quite the eloquence he devoted to those matters to which his heart was truly given. - But it had not helped.

And yet - and yet - if Mandamus now really had some project in mind that would work and would require the robots.

Amadiro had no great fondness for mystical cries of: "It was better so. It was meant to be." Yet it was only with an effort that he kept himself from thinking this, as the elevator took them down to a spot well below ground level the only place in Aurora that might be similar, in a tiny way, to Earth's fabled Caves of Steel.

Mandamus stepped out of the elevator at Amadiro's gesture and found himself in a dim corridor. It was chilly and there was a soft ventilating wind. He shivered slightly. Amadiro joined him. But a single robot followed each.

"Few people come here," Amadiro said matter-of-factly.

"How far underground are we?" asked Mandamus.

"About fifteen meters. There are a number of levels. It is on this one that the humanoid robots are stored."

Amadiro stopped a moment, as though in thought, then turned firmly to the left. "This way!"

"No directing signs?"

"As I said, few people come here. Those who do know where they should go to find what they need."

As he said that, they came to a door that looked solid and formidable in the dim light. On either side stood a robot. They were not humanoid.

Mandamus regarded them critically and said, "These are simple models."

"Very simple. You wouldn't expect us to waste anything elaborate on the task of guarding a door." Amadiro raised his voice, but kept it impassive. "I am Kelden Amadiro."

The eyes of both robots glowed briefly. They turned outward, away from the door, which opened noiselessly, rising upward.

Amadiro directed the other through and, as he passed the robots, said calmly, "Leave it open and adjust the lighting to personal need."

Mandamus said, "I don't suppose just anyone could enter here."

"Certainly not. Those robots recognize my appearance and voiceprint and require both before opening the door." Half to himself, he added, "No need for locks or keys or combinations anywhere on the Spacer worlds. The robots guard us faithfully and always."

"I had sometimes thought," said Mandamus broodingly, "that if an Auroran were to borrow one of those blasters that Settlers seem to carry with them wherever they go, there would be no locked doors for him. He could destroy robots in an instant, then go wherever he wished, do whatever he wanted."

Amadiro darted a fiery glance at the other. "But what Spacer would dream of using such weapons on a Spacer world? We live our lives without weapons and without violence. Don't you understand that that is why I have devoted my life to the defeat and destruction of Earth and its poisoned brood. - Yes, we had violence once, but that was long ago, when the Spacer worlds were first established and we had not yet rid ourselves of the poison of the Earth from which we came, and before we had learned the value of robotic security.

"Aren't peace and security worth fighting for? Worlds without violence! Worlds in which reason rules! Was it right for us to hand over scores of habitable worlds to short-lived barbarians who, as you say, carry blasters about with them everywhere?"

"And yet," murmured Mandamus, "are you ready to use violence to destroy Earth?"

"Violence briefly - and for a purpose - is the price we probably will have to pay for putting an end to violence forever.

"I am Spacer enough," said Mandamus, "to want even that violence minimized."

They had now entered a large and cavernous room and, as they entered, walls and ceiling came to life with diffuse and unglaring light.

"Well, is this what you want, Dr. Mandamus?" asked Amadiro.

Mandamus looked about, stunned. Finally, he managed to say, "Incredible!"

They stood there, a solid regiment of human beings, with a little more life to them than so many statues might have showed, but with far less life than sleeping human beings would have displayed.

"They're standing," muttered Mandamus.

"They take up less room that way. Obviously."

"But they've been standing about fifteen decades. They can't still be in working order. Surely their joints are frozen, their organs broken down."

Amadiro shrugged. "Perhaps. Still, if the joints have deteriorated - and that isn't out of the question, I suppose those can be replaced - if necessary. It would depend on whether there would be reason to do so."

"There would be reason," said Mandamus. He looked from head to head. They were staring in slightly different directions and that gave them a somewhat unsettling appearance, as though they were on the point of breaking ranks.

Mandamus said, "Each has an individual appearance and they differ in height, build, and so on."

"Yes. Does that surprise you? We were planning to have these, along with others we might have built, be the pioneers in the development of new worlds. To have them do so properly, we wanted them to be as human as possible, which meant making them as individual as Aurorans are. Doesn't that seem sensible to you?"

"Absolutely. I'm glad this is so. I've read all I can about the two protohumaniforms that Fastolfe himself built - Daneel Olivaw and Jander Panell. I've seen holographs of them and they seemed identical."

"Yes," said Amadiro impatiently. "Not only identical, but each virtually a caricature of one's conception of the ideal Spacer. That was Fastolfe's romanticism. I'm sure that he would have built a race of interchangeable humanoid robots, with both sexes possessing such ethereal good looks - or what he considered to be that - as to make them completely inhuman. Fastolfe may be a brilliant roboticist, but he is an incredibly stupid man."

Amadiro shook his head. To have been beaten by such an incredibly stupid man, he thought - and then he thrust the thought away. He had not been beaten by Fastolfe, but by that infernal Earthman. Lost in thought, he did not hear Mandamus's next question.

"Pardon me," he said with an edge of irritation.

"I said, 'Did you design these, Dr. Amadiro?'"

"No, by an odd coincidence - and one that strikes me as possessing a peculiar irony - these were designed by Fastolfe's daughter Vasilia. She's as brilliant as he is and much more intelligent - which may be one reason why they never got along."

"As I have heard the story concerning them - " began Mandamus.

Amadiro waved him into silence. "I have heard the story, too, but it doesn't matter. It's enough that she does her work very well and that there is no danger that she will ever find herself in sympathy with someone who, despite the accident that he is her biological father, is - and must remain forever alien and hateful to her. She even calls herself Vasilia Aliena, you know."

"Yes, I know. Do you have the brain patterns of these humanoid robots on record?"

"Certainly."

"For each of these?"

"Of course."

"And can they be made available to me?"

"If there's a reason for it."

"There will be," said Mandwnus funnily. "Since these robots were designed for pioneering activities, may I assume they are equipped to explore a world and deal with primitive conditions?"

"That should be self-evident."

"That's perfect - but there may have to be some modifications. Do you suppose that Vasilia Fast - Aliena would be able to help me with that - if necessary? Obviously, she would be best-acquainted with the brain patterns."

"Obviously. Still, I don't know whether she would be willing to help you. I do know that it is physically impossible for her to do so at the moment, since she is not on Aurora."

Mandamus looked surprised and displeased. "Where is she, then, Dr. Amadiro?"

Amadiro said, "You have seen these humaniforms and I do not wish to expose myself to these rather dismal surroundings. You have kept me waiting long enough and you must not complain if I keep you waiting now. If you have any further questions, let us deal with them in my office."

53

Once in the office, Amadiro delayed things a while longer. "Wait here for me," he said rather peremptorily and left.

Mandamus waited stiffly, sorting out his thoughts, wondering when Amadiro would return - or if he would. Was he to be arrested or simply ejected? Had Amadiro grown tired of waiting for the point?

Mandamus refused to believe that. He had gained a shrewd idea of Amadiro's desperate desire for evening an old score. It seemed evident that Amadiro wouldn't get tired of listening as long as there seemed the slightest chance that Mandamus would make revenge possible.

As he looked idly about Amadiro's office, Mandamus found himself wondering whether there might be any information that might be of help to him in the computerized files almost immediately at hand. It would be useful not to have to depend directly on Amadiro for everything.

The thought was a useless one. Mandamus did not know the entry code for the files and, even if he did, there were several of Amadiro's personal robots standing in their niches and they would stop him if he took a single step toward anything that was labeled in their minds as sensitive. Even his own robots would.

Amadiro was right. Robots were so useful and efficient - and incorruptible - as guards that the very concept of anything criminal, illegal, or simply underhanded did not occur to anyone. The tendency just atrophied - at least as against other Spacers.

He wondered how Settlers could manage without robots. Mandamus tried to imagine human personalities clashing, with no robotic bumpers to cushion the interaction, no robotic presence to give them a decent sense of security and to enforce - without their being consciously aware of it most of the time - a proper mode of morality.

It would be impossible for Settlers to be anything but barbarians under the circumstance and the Galaxy could not be left to them. Amadiro was right in that respect and had always been right, while Fastolfe was fantastically wrong.

Mandamus nodded, as though he had once again persuaded himself as to the correctness of what he was planning. He sighed and wished it were not necessary, then prepared to go over, once again, the line of reasoning that proved to him that it was necessary, when Amadiro strode in.

Amadiro was still an impressive figure, even though he was within a year of his twenty-eighth decade-day. He was very much what a Spacer ought to look like, except for the unfortunate shapelessness of his nose.

Amadiro said, "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, but there was business I had to attend to. I am the head of this Institute and that entails responsibilities."

Mandamus said, "Could you tell me where Dr. Vasilia Aliena is? I will then describe my project to you without delay."

"Vasilia is on tour. She's visiting each of the Spacer worlds to find out where they stand on robot research. She appears to think that, since the Robot Institute was founded to coordinate individual research on Aurora, interplanetary coordination would advance the cause even farther. A good idea, actually."

Mandamus laughed, shortly and without humor. "They won't tell her anything. I doubt any Spacer world wants to hand Aurora a more enormous lead than she already has."

"Don't be too sure. The Settler situation has disturbed us all."

"Do you know where she is now?"

"We have her itinerary."

"Get her back, Dr. Amadiro."

Amadiro frowned. "I doubt I can do that easily. I believe she wants to be away from Aurora until her father dies."

"Why?" asked Mandamus in surprise.

Amadiro shrugged. "I don't know. I don't care. - But what I do know is that your time has run out. Do you understand? Get to the point or leave." He pointed to the door grimly and Mandamus felt that the other's patience would stretch no farther.

Mandamus said, "Very well. There is yet a third way in which Earth is unique."

He talked easily and with due economy, as though he were going through an exposition that he had frequently rehearsed and polished for the very purpose of presenting it to Amadiro. And Amadiro found himself increasingly absorbed.

That was it! Amadiro first felt a huge sense of relief. He had been correct to gamble on the young man's not being a crackpot. He was entirely sane.

Then came triumph. It would surely work. Of course, the young man's view, as it was expounded, veered a bit from the path Amadiro felt it ought to follow, but that could be taken care of eventually. Modifications were always possible.

And when Mandamus was done, Amadiro said in a voice he strove to hold steady, "We won't need Vasilia. There is appropriate expertise at the Institute to allow us to begin at once. Dr. Mandamus" - a note of formal respect entered Amadiro's voice - "let this thing work out as planned and I cannot help but think it will - and you will be the head of the Institute when I am Chairman of the Council."

Mandamus smiled narrowly and briefly, while Amadiro sat back in his chair and, just as briefly, allowed himself to look into the future with satisfaction and confidence, something he had not been able to do for twenty long and weary decades.

How long would it take? Decades? One decade? Part of a decade?

Not long. Not long. It must be hastened by all means so that he could live to see that old decision overturned and himself lord of Aurora - and therefore of the Spacer worlds - and therefore (with Earth and the Settler worlds doomed) even lord of the Galaxy before he died.

54

When Dr. Han Fastolfe died, seven years after Amadiro and Mandamus met and began their project, the hyperwave carried the news with explosive force to every corner of the occupied worlds. It merited the greatest attention everywhere.

In the Spacer worlds it was important because Fastolfe had been the most powerful man on Aurora and, therefore, in the Galaxy for over twenty decades. In the Settler worlds and on Earth, it was important because Fastolfe had been a friend insofar as a Spacer could be a friend - and the question now was whether Spacer policy would change and, if so, how.

The news came also to Vasilia Aliena and it was complicated by the bitterness that had tinged her relationship with her biological father almost from the beginning.

She had schooled herself to feel nothing when he died, yet she had not wanted to be on the same world that he was on at the time the event took place. She did not want the questions that would be leveled at her anywhere, but most frequently and insistently on Aurora.

The parent-child relationship among the Spacers was a weak and indifferent one at best. With long lives, that was a matter of course. Nor would anyone have been interested in Vasilia in that respect, but for the fact that Fastolfe was so continually prominent a party leader and Vasilia almost as prominent a partisan on the other side.

It was poisonous. She had gone to the trouble of making Vasilia Aliena her legal name and of using it on all documents, in all interviews, in all dealings of any kind - and yet she knew for a fact that most people thought of her as Vasilia Fastolfe. It was as though nothing could wipe out that thoroughly meaningless relationship, so that she was reduced to having to be content with being addressed by her first name only. It was, at least, an uncommon name.

And that, too, seemed to emphasize her mirror-image relationship with the Solarian woman who, for thoroughly independent reasons, had denied her first husband as Vasilia had denied her father. The Solarian woman, too, could not live with the early surnames fastened upon her and ended with a first name only - Gladia.

Vasilia and Gladia, misfits, deniers - They even resembled each other.

Vasilia stole a look at the mirror hanging in her spaceship cabin. She had not seen Gladia in many decades, but she was sure that the resemblance remained. They were both small and slim. Both were blond and their faces were somewhat alike.

But it was Vasilia who always lost and Gladia who always won. When Vasilia had left her father and had struck him from her life, he had found Gladia instead - and she was the pliant and passive daughter he wanted, the daughter that Vasilia could never be.

Nevertheless, it embittered Vasilia. She herself was a roboticist; as competent and as skillful, at last, as ever Fastolfe had been, while Gladia was merely an artist, who amused herself with force-field coloring and with the illusions of robotic clothing. How could Fastolfe have been satisfied to lose the one and gain, in her place, nothing more than the other?

And when that policeman from Earth, Elijah Baley, had come to Aurora, he had bullied Vasilia into revealing far more of her thoughts and feelings than she had ever granted anyone else. He was, however, softness itself to Gladia and had helped her - and her protector, Fastolfe - win out against all the odds, though to this day Vasilia had not been able to understand clearly how that had happened.

It was Gladia who had been at Fastolfe's bedside during the final illness, who had held his hand to the end, and who had heard his last words. Why Vasilia should resent that, she didn't know, for she herself would, under no circumstances, have acknowledged the old man's existence to the extent of visiting him to witness his passage into nonexistence in an absolute, rather than a subjective sense - and yet she raged against Gladia's presence.

It's the way I feel, she told herself defiantly, and I owe no one an explanation.

And she had lost Giskard. Giskard had been her robot, Vasilia's own robot when she had been a young girl, the robot granted her by a then seemingly fond father. It was Giskard through whom she had learned robotics and from whom she had felt the first genuine affection. She had not, as a child, speculated on the Three Laws or dealt with the philosophy of positronic automatism. Giskard had seemed affectionate, he had acted as though he were affectionate, and that was enough for a child. She had never found such affection in any human being - certainly not her father.

To this day, she had yet to be weak enough to play the foolish love game with anyone. Her bitterness over her loss of Giskard had taught her that any initial gain was not worth the final deprivation.

When she had left home, disowning her father, he would not let Giskard go with her, even though she herself had improved Giskard immeasurably in the course of her careful reprogramming of him. And when her father had died, he had left Giskard to the Solarian woman. He had also left her Daneel, but Vasilia cared nothing for that pale imitation of a man. She wanted Giskard, who was her own.

Vasilia was on her way back to Solaria now. Her tour was quite done. In fact, as far as usefulness was concerned, it had been essentially over months ago. But she had remained on Hesperos for a needed rest, as she had explained in her official notice to the Institute.

Now, however, Fastolfe was dead and she could return. And while she could not undo the past entirely, she could undo part of it. Giskard must be hers again.

She was determined on that.

55

Amadiro was quite ambivalent in his response to Vasilia's return. She had not come back until old Fastolfe (he could say the name to himself quite easily now that he was dead) was a month in his um. That flattered his opinion of his own understanding. After all, he had told Mandamus her motive had been that of remaining away from Aurora till her father died.

Then, too, Vasilia was comfortably transparent. She lacked the exasperating quality of Mandamus, his new favorite, who always seemed to have yet another unexpressed thought tucked away - no matter how thoroughly he seemed to have discharged the contents of his mind.

On the other hand, she was irritatingly hard to control the least likely to go quietly along the path he indicated. Leave it to her to probe the otherworld Spacers to the bone during the years she had spent away from Aurora - but then leave it also to her to interpret it all in dark and riddling words.

So he greeted her with an enthusiasm that was somewhere between feigned and unfeigned.

"Vasilia, I'm so happy to have you back. The Institute flies on one wing when you're gone."

Vasilia laughed. "Come, Kelden" - she alone had no hesitation or inhibition in using his given name, though she was two and a half decades younger than he - "that one remaining wing is yours and how long has it been now since you ceased being perfectly certain that your one wing was sufficient?"

"Since you decided to stretch out your absence to years. Do you find Aurora much changed in the interval?"

"Not a bit - which ought perhaps to be a concern of ours. Changelessness is decay."

"A paradox. There is no decay without a change for the worse."

"Changelessness is a change for the worse, Kelden, in comparison to the surrounding Settler worlds. They change rapidly, extending their control into more numerous worlds and over each individual world more thoroughly. They increase their strength and power and self-assurance, while we sit here dreaming and find our unchanging might diminishing steadily in comparison."

"Beautiful, Vasilia! I think you memorized that carefully on your flight here. However, there has been a change in the political situation on Aurora."

"You mean my biological father is dead."

Amadiro spread his arms with a little bow of his head. "As you say. He was largely responsible for our paralysis and he is gone, so I imagine there will now be change, though it may not necessarily be visible change."

"You keep secrets from me, do you?"

"Would I do that?"

"Certainly. That false smile of yours gives you away every time."

"Then I must learn to be grave with you. - Come, I have your report. Tell me what is not included in it."

"All is included in it - almost. Each Spacer world states vehemently that it is disturbed by growing Settler arrogance. Each is firmly determined to resist the Settlers to the end, enthusiastically following the Auroran lead with vigor and death-defying gallantry.

"Follow our lead, yes. And if we don't lead?"

"Then they'll wait and try to mask their relief that we are not leading. Otherwise - Well, each one is engaged in technological advance and each one is reluctant to reveal what it is, exactly, that it is doing. Each is working independently and is not even unified within its own globe. There is not a single research team anywhere on any of the Spacer worlds that resembles our own Robotics Institute. Each world consists of individual researchers, each of whom diligently guards his own data from all the rest."

Amadiro was almost complacent as he said, "I would not expect them to have advanced as far as we have."

"Too bad they haven't," replied Vasilia, tartly. "With all the Spacer worlds a jumble of individuals, progress is too slow. The Settler worlds meet regularly at conventions, have their institutes - and though they lag well behind us, they will catch up. - Still, I've managed to uncover a few technological advances being worked on by the Spacer worlds and I have them all listed in my report. They are all working on the nuclear intensifier, for instance, but I don't believe that such a device has passed beyond the laboratory demonstration level on a single world. Something that would be practical on shipboard is not yet here."

"I hope you are right in that, Vasilia. The nuclear intensifier is a weapon our fleets could use, for it would finish the Settlers at once. However, I think, on the whole, it would be better if Aurora had the weapon ahead of our Spacer brothers. - But you said that all was included in your report - almost. I heard that 'almost.' What is not included, then?"

"Solaria!"

"Ah, the youngest and most peculiar of the Spacer worlds."

"I got almost nothing directly out of them. They viewed me with absolute hostility as, I believe, they would have viewed any non-Solarian, whether Spacer or Settler. And when I say 'viewed,' I mean that in their sense. I remained nearly a year on the world, a considerably longer time than I spent on any other world, and in all those months I never saw a single Solarian face-to-face. In every case, I viewed him - or her - by hyperwave hologram. I could never deal with anything tangible - images only. The world was comfortable, incredibly luxurious, in fact, and for a nature lover, totally unspoiled, but how I missed seeing."

"Well, viewing is a Solarian custom. - We all know that, Vasilia. Live and let live."

"Humph," said Vasilia. "Your tolerance may be misplaced. Are your robots in the nonrepeat mode?"

"Yes, they are. And I assure you we are not being eavesdropped upon."

"I hope not, Kelden. - I am under the distinct impression that the Solarians are closer to developing a miniaturized nuclear intensifier than any other world - than we are. They may be close to making one that's portable and that's possessed of a power consumption small enough to make it practical for space vessels."

Amadiro frowned deeply. "How do they manage that?"

"I cannot say. You don't suppose they showed me blueprints, do you? My impressions are so inchoate I dared not put them in the report, but from small things I heard here or observed there - I think they are making important progress. This is something we should think about carefully."

"We will. - Is there anything else you would like to tell me?"

"Yes - and also not in the report. Solaria has been working toward humanoid robots for many decades and I think they have achieved that goal. No other Spacer would - outside of ourselves, of course - has even attempted the matter. When I asked, on each world, what they were doing with respect to humanoid robots, the reaction was uniform. They found the very concept unpleasant and horrifying. I suspect they all noticed our failure and took it to heart."

"But not Solaria? Why not?"

"For one thing, they have always lived in the most extremely robotized society in the Galaxy. They're surrounded by robots - ten thousand per individual. The world is saturated with them. If you were to wander through it aimlessly, searching for humans, you would find nothing. So why should the few Solarians, living in such a world, be upset by the thought of a few more robots just because they're humaniform? Then, too, that pseudo-human wretch that Fastolfe designed and built and that still exists."

"Daneel," said Amadiro.

"Yes, that one. He - it was on Solaria twenty decades ago and the Solarians treated it as human. They have never recovered from that. Even if they had no use for humaniforms, they were humiliated at having been deceived. It was an unforgettable demonstration that Aurora was far ahead of them in that one facet of robotics, at any rate. The Solarians take inordinate pride in being the most advanced roboticists in the Galaxy and, ever since, individual Solarians have been working on humaniforms - if for no other reason than to wipe out that disgrace. If they had had greater numbers or an institute that could coordinate their work, they would undoubtedly have come up with some long ago. As it is, I think they have them now."

"You don't really know, do you? This is just suspicion based on scraps of data here and there."

"Exactly right, but it's a fairly strong suspicion and it merits further investigation. - And a third point. I could swear they were working on telepathic communication. There was some equipment that I was incautiously allowed to see. And once when I had one of their roboticists on view the hyperwave screen showed a blackboard with a positronic pattern matrix that was like nothing I ever remember seeing, yet it seemed to me that pattern might fit a telepathic program."

"I suspect, Vasilia, that this item is woven of even airier gossamer than the bit about the humanoid robots."

A look of mild embarrassment crossed Vasilia's face. "I must admit you're probably right there."

"In fact, Vasilia, it sounds like mere fantasy. If the pattern matrix you saw was like nothing you remember ever having seen before, how could you think it would fit anything?"

Vasilia hesitated. "To tell you the truth, I've been wondering about that myself. Yet when I saw the pattern, the word 'telepathy' occurred to me at once."

"Even though telepathy is impossible, even in theory."

"It is thought to be impossible, even in theory. That is not quite the same thing."

"No one has ever been able to make any progress toward it."

"Yes, but why should I have looked at that pattern and thought 'telepathy'?"

"Ah well, Vasilia, there may be a personal psychoquirk there that is useless to try to analyze. I'd forget it."

"Anything else?"

"One more thing - and the most puzzling of all. I gathered the impression, Kelden, from one little indication or another, that the Solarians are planning to leave their planet.

"I don't know. Their population, small as it is, is declining further. Perhaps they want to make a new start elsewhere before they die out altogether."

"What kind of new start? Where would they go?"

Vasilia shook her head. "I have told you all I know."

Amadiro said slowly, "Well, then, I will take all this into account. Four things: nuclear intensifier, humanoid robots, telepathic robots, and abandoning the planet. Frankly, I have no faith in any of the four, but I'll persuade the Council to authorize talks with the Solarian regent. - And now, Vasilia, I believe you could use a rest, so why not take a few weeks off and grow accustomed to the Auroran sun and fine weather before getting back to work?"

"That is kind of you, Kelden," said Vasilia - remaining firmly seated, "but there remain two items I must bring up."

Involuntarily, Amadiro's eyes sought the time strip. "This won't take up very much time, will it, Vasilia?"

"However much time it takes, Kelden, is what it will take up."

"What is it you want then?"

"To begin with, who is this young know-it-all who seems to think he is running, the Institute, this what's-his-name, Mandamus?"

"You've met him, have you?" said Amadiro, his smile masking a certain uneasiness. "You see, things do change on Aurora."

"Certainly not for the better in this case," said Vasilia grimly. "Who is he?"

"He is exactly what you have described - a know-it-all. He is a brilliant young man, bright enough in robotics, but, just as knowledgeable in general physics, in chemistry, in planetology - "

"And how old is this monster of erudition?"

"Not quite five decades."

"And what will this child be when he grows up?"

"Wise as well as brilliant, perhaps."

"Don't pretend to mistake my meaning, Kelden. Are you thinking of grooming him as the next head of the Institute?"

"I intend to live for a good many decades yet."

"That is no answer."

"It is the only answer I have."

Vasilia shifted in her seat restlessly and her robot, standing behind her, sent his eyes from side to side as though preparing to ward off an attack - pushed into that mode of behavior, perhaps, by Vasilia's uneasiness.

Vasilia said, "Kelden, I am to be the next head. That is settled. You have told me so."

"I have, but in actual fact, Vasilia, once I die, the Board of Directors will make the choice. Even if I leave behind me a directive as to who the next head will be, the Board can reverse me. That much is clear in the terms of incorporation that founded the Institute."

"You just write your directive, Kelden, and I will take care of the Board of Directors."

And Amadiro, the space between his eyebrows furrowing said, "This is not something I will discuss any further at this moment. What is the other item you want to bring up? Please make it brief."

She stared at him in silent anger for a moment, then said, seeming to bite off the word, "Giskard!"

"The robot?"

"Of course the robot. Do you know any other Giskard that I am likely to be talking about?"

"Well, what of him?"

"He is mine."

Amadiro looked surprised. "He is - or was - the legal property of Fastolfe."

"Giskard was mine when I was a child."

"Fastolfe lent him to you and eventually took him back. There was no formal transfer of ownership, was there?"

"Morally, he was mine. But in any case, Fastolfe owns him no longer. He is dead."

"He made a will, too. And if I remember correctly, by that will, two robots - Giskard and Daneel - are now the property of the Solarian woman."

"But I don't want them to be. I am Fastolfe's daughter."

"Oi?"

Vasilia flushed. "I have a claim to Giskard. Why should a stranger - an alien - have him?"

"For one thing, because Fastolfe willed it so. And she's an Auroran citizen."

"Who says so? To every Auroran she is 'the Solarian woman.'"

Amadiro brought his fist down on the arm of his chair in a sudden spilling over of fury. "Vasilia, what is it you wish of me? I have no liking for the Solarian woman. I have, in fact, a profound dislike of her and, if there were a way, I would" - he looked briefly at the robots, as though unwilling to unsettle them - "get her off the planet. But I can't upset the will. Even if there were a legal way to do so - and there isn't - it wouldn't be wise to do it. Fastolfe is dead."

"Precisely the reason Giskard should be mine now."

Amadiro ignored her. "And the coalition he headed is falling apart. It was held together in the last few decades only by his personal charisma. Now what I would like to do is to pick up fragments of that coalition and add it to my own following. In that way, I may put a group together that would be strong enough to dominate the Council and win control in the coming elections."

"With you becoming the next Chairman?"

"Why not? Aurora could do worse, for it would give me a chance to reverse our longtime policy of built-in disaster before it is too late. The trouble is that I don't have Fastolfe's personal popularity. I don't have his gift of exuding saintliness as a cover for stupidity. Consequently, if I seem to be triumphing in an unfair and petty way over a dead man, it will not look good. No one must say that having been defeated by Fastolfe while he was alive, I overturned his will out of trivial spite after he was dead. I won't have anything as ridiculous as that standing in the way of the great life-and death decisions Aurora must make. Do you understand me? You'll have to do without Giskard!"

Vasilia arose, body stiff, eyes narrow. "We'll see about that."

"We have already seen. This meeting is over and if you have any ambitions to be the head of the Institute, I don't ever want to see you threatening me about anything. So if you're going to make a threat now, of any kind at all, I advise you to reconsider."

"I make no threats," said Vasilia, every ounce of body language contradicting her words - and she left with a sweep, beckoning her robot, unnecessarily, to follow.

56

The emergency - or rather, the series of emergencies began some months later when Maloon Cicis entered Amadiro's office for the usual morning conference.

Ordinarily, Amadiro looked forward to that. Cicis was always a restful interlude in the course of the busy day. He was the one senior member of the Institute who had no ambitions and who was not calculating against the day of Amadiro's death or retirement. Cicis was, in fact, the perfect subordinate. He was happy to be of service and delighted to be in Amadiro's confidence.

For this reason, Amadiro had been disturbed, in the last year or so, at the flavor of decay, the slight concavity of the chest, the touch of stiffness in the walk of his perfect subordinate. Could Cicis be getting old? Surely he was only a few decades older than Amadiro.

It struck Amadiro most unpleasantly that perhaps along with the gradual degeneration of so many facets of Spacer life, the life expectancy was falling. He meant to look up the statistics, but kept forgetting to do so - or was unconsciously afraid of doing so.

On this occasion, though, the appearance of age in Cicis was drowned in violent emotion. His face was red (pointing up the graying of his bronze hair) and he appeared virtually exploding with astonishment.

Amadiro did not have to inquire as to the news. Cicis delivered it as though it was something he could not contain.

When he finished exploding, Amadiro said, stupefied, "All radio-wave emissions ceased? All?"

"All, Chief. They must all be dead - or gone. No inhabited world can avoid emitting some electromagnetic radiation at our level of - "

Amadiro waved him silent. One of Vasilia's points - the fourth, as he recalled - had been that the Solarians were preparing to leave their world. It had been a nonsensical suggestion; all four had been more or less nonsensical. He had said he would keep it in mind and, of course, he hadn't. Now, apparently, that had proved to be a mistake.

What had made it seem nonsensical when Vasilia had advanced the notion still made it seem nonsensical. He asked the question now that he had asked then, even though he expected no answer. (What answer could there be?) "Where in Space could they go, Maloon?"

"There's no word on that, Chief."

"Well, then, when did they go?"

"There's no word on that, either. We got the news this morning. The trouble is the radiational intensity is so low on Solaria anyway. It's very sparsely inhabited and its robots are well-shielded. The intensity is an order of magnitude lower than that of any other Spacer world; two orders lower than ours - "

"So one day someone noticed that what was very small had actually declined to zero, but no one actually caught it as it was declining. Who noticed it?"

"A Nexonian ship Chief."

"How?"

"The ship was being forced into orbit about Solaria's sun in order to carry through emergency repairs. They hyperwaved for permission and got no answer. They had no choice but to disregard that, continue into orbit, and carry through their repairs. They were not interfered with in any way in that time. It was not till after they had left that, in checking through their records, they found that not only had they gotten no answer, but that they had gotten no radiational signal of any kind. There's no way of telling exactly when radiation had ceased. The last recorded receipt of any message from Solaria was over two months ago."

"And the other three points she made?" Amadiro muttered.

"Pardon me, Chief?"

"Nothing. Nothing," said Amadiro, but he frowned heavily and was lost in thought.