Asimov’s Future History

Volume II

All stories copyright Isaac Asimov and the Estate of Isaac Asimov, unless otherwise noted below.

All other stories copyright by the respective authors listed below.

Predator - By William F. Wu. First published as Isaac Asimov's Robots in Time: Predator, April 1993

Marauder- By William F. Wu. First published as Isaac Asimov's Robots in Time: Marauder, July 1993

Warrior- By William F. Wu. First published as Isaac Asimov's Robots in Time: Warrior, October 1993

Dictator- By William F. Wu. First published as Isaac Asimov's Robots in Time: Dictator, February 1994

This  ePub edition v1.0 by Dead^Man March, 2011

Layout and design by DeadMan

Cover art “Corridor city” by Astrokevin of DeviantArt

Future History inlay “Summer days” by Talros of DeviantArt

Cover design by Dead^Man

Chronology of events in Isaac Asimov’s positronic robot and Foundation stories, compiled by Johnny Pez

Table of Contents

Copyright

2140 AD Predator

2140 AD Marauder

2140 AD Warrior

2140 AD Dictator

Sources of dates

Predator

2140 A.D.

1

MOJAVE CENTER GOVERNOR sat in his office, deep in the underground city of Mojave Center. He was an experimental humaniform robot of a type that was new this year, 2140. Each of the Governor robots was currently running all the municipal systems of one entire, newly-constructed city. They were doing so under probationary status, monitored by a committee of scientists through their computer.

His office was in the middle level of the city, in the center of that level. He didn’t really need an office at all since most of his work was done through his radio link to the city computer or directly to municipal departments; further, he could plug into various terminals when necessary. However, he had learned that humans sometimes preferred doing business in an office, so he maintained a small room in Mojave Center for that purpose.

At the moment, MC Governor was alone. He plugged his humaniform forefinger into a wall jack. Inside the jack, the end of his finger opened and plugged into the system. He contacted the city computer.

“I am going to run a simulation program again,” said MC Governor. “I will continue my normal duties through my multi-tasking system. However, I instruct you not to transfer any communication or other interruption lower than Priority 5. When I have finished running the simulation, I will notify you.”

“Acknowledged,” said the city computer.

MC Governor returned his finger to human shape, breaking the shielded connection. For the sake of security, he told himself, he chose not to use radio communication concerning the simulation programs. Lately he had been running them more often than before.

He ran down his list of programs. They were standard simulation programs that all the Governors used to discover and correct potential problems and challenges without actually having to face them in real life. His favorites involved some sort of disaster that befell Mojave Center, requiring him to respond urgently under the Laws of Robotics to restore the situation to normal. Like all positronic robots, he was programmed so that his greatest imperative, and his greatest reward, was in obeying the Laws. The First Law of Robotics was, “A robot may not injure a human being, or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.”

This time, he selected the program called Desert Flash Flood. It was essentially a form of role-playing game. He began running it. Suddenly he found himself standing in the main thoroughfare of Mojave Center, Antelope Valley Boulevard, with water a meter high pouring down the street.

MC Governor was a very tall, brawny robot. He ran through the water to a young woman who was stumbling and splashing helplessly, trying to hold a toddler in her arms. As MC Governor picked her up and strode through the current toward an escalator, he radioed the city monitors who controlled all the basic life functions.

“Shut down all electricity to nonessential services if they have failed to shut down automatically,” he instructed the computer, as he carried the woman and her child. “Run a status check on the emergency electrical systems providing essential services.”

Right now, his greatest worry was the electrocution of humans if broken power lines touched the flood water. As a Governor robot, he was a central control unit, capable of managing entire cities, from traffic to essential services and utilities, to environmental control and industry. The city had its own decentralized computer systems, which reported directly to him and took his instructions by way of his internal radio and video systems.

“Thank you,” the woman gasped, clutching her drenched toddler as MC Governor set her down on the rising escalator.

Almost immediately, the monitors reported that nonessential services were being discontinued. The escalator stopped moving, but the woman stumbled on up the steps. MC Governor waded back into the water toward a trolley full of humans stranded on one side of the boulevard. They were yelling and screaming in panic. Its robot driver was speaking calmly to his passengers, asking for patience.

The city monitors reported that the emergency power system was functioning safely.

“Send me all data related to the cause of the flood,” he ordered. At the same time, he moved behind the stranded vehicle. It normally ran on a battery-powered electric motor. Now the robot driver steered as MC Governor pushed the vehicle to the stationary escalator, where the driver began helping the humans onto it.

As the monitors all over the city reported their data, MC Governor computed the information. A flash flood had taken place in the Mojave Desert above them, washing down from the San Gabriel Mountains to the south. Normally, it should not have been a problem. The top surface of Mojave Center, a large rectangle on the desert floor, was comprised mostly of solar cells, which provided power. It was fully sealed, of course, so that flood water would normally pass right over the underground city. In this case, however, the force of the flood had ripped open the surface and water was still pouring down into the top levels of the city.

Robots working on those levels were already struggling to seal off the leak. Others all over the city were coordinating evacuation efforts for the humans. MC Governor was about to request the details of those efforts when he was interrupted from outside the simulation program.

“City computer calling Mojave Center Governor with a Priority 8 emergency.”

MC Governor shut off the simulation and inserted his finger into the wall jack again to shield his communication. “MC Governor here. Report the emergency.”

“Flooding is reported on the main level over Antelope Valley Boulevard. At this time, the Priority 8 emergency is estimated to be thirty-seven minutes from reaching a Priority 9 level without additional measures.”

“What is the cause of the flooding?”

“The circulation of water was routed incorrectly through the city. Too much water was directed to the problem area, and the increased pressure burst two main valves simultaneously.”

“Why was the water routed incorrectly?”

“The orders came from you.”

“Are all standard emergency procedures under way?”

“Affirmative. The most critical is that all drainage systems are open to the maximum.”

MC Governor quickly broke the connection and ran outside. The scene was similar to that of the simulation, though not identical. Not as much water was running down the boulevard; it was only half a meter deep, but many more people were running for the escalators and sliding ramps, yelling to each other. MC Governor was horrified; somehow, he had allowed his involvement with the simulation to influence his multi-tasking ability. Unwittingly, he had begun to create the flood in the simulation, putting humans at risk in violation of the First Law of Robotics.

He waded into the water, snatched up two children who had been knocked off their feet by the current, and carried them to the nearest rising slide ramp.

“City computer,” he radioed. “What is the status of the broken valves now?”

“A robot maintenance team has shut off the water flow manually at the preceding valves. The broken valves are not yet under replacement.”

Around MC Governor, people were still in danger. The shallow water would not drown anyone in the areas where it had flowed into gentle backwaters, but the current was powerful enough to knock people down. If they were injured, they might drown even in shallow water. Other robots were already wading through the water, carrying people to safety.

A short, balding man with frizzy gray hair had lost his footing. Though sitting in water that was not over his head, he was clinging to the bumper of a small utility vehicle, unable to pull himself up against the force of the current. He pulled himself toward the bumper, tried to gain traction with his feet, and was knocked down again. This time he lost his grip and was rolled roughly down the boulevard.

MC Governor waded quickly to the man and lifted him up. He was an engineer named Max Eisen, to whom MC Governor had spoken briefly before. As MC Governor carried him, Eisen coughed and wheezed, but was breathing. In several long strides, MC Governor returned to the ramp, where he set the man down in a sitting position. Then he looked around again.

“Over there,” Max wheezed, pointing.

A young woman with curly orange hair had jumped up onto the pedestal next to an abstract stone sculpture. She was looking doubtfully at the water swirling around the base of the pedestal. As MC Governor hurried toward her, the pedestal tilted from the imbalance her weight caused. Water flowed under its raised edge, pushing it over.

The young woman gasped as she was thrown through the air. The stone sculpture began to slide off its pedestal in the same direction. Before she hit the water, however, MC Governor managed to catch her and swing her out of the way. In the spot where she would have struck the water, the stone sculpture splashed and then cracked against the hard floor beneath it.

“You are safe now,” said MC Governor, carrying her back to the ramp to join Max.

The water was slowing down quickly now. With the broken pipes turned off and the drainage open to the maximum, the emergency was passing. Up and down the boulevard, robots were helping humans to safety and seeing to their injuries if they had sustained any.

“Elaine,” said Max. “I would like to introduce you to Mojave Center Governor, the robot who runs our city.”

“Pleased to meet you.” Elaine smiled gratefully, brushing her orange hair out of her face. “And thank you.”

“I may not deserve thanks,” MC Governor said grimly. “I should never have allowed this to happen.”

Internally, he radioed the water system monitors again. They all reported good drainage. Then he called the city computer. “Are you aware of any immediate First Law imperatives that are not being addressed?”

“No.”

“Compile total damage estimates, including human casualties, and relay them to me as soon as they are reasonably complete. Prioritize repairs according to safety factors.” He was very worried that his lapse had caused humans to be injured or worse.

“Acknowledged,” said the city computer.

Then MC Governor reviewed the power monitors and turned the electricity back on in all the branches of the system that were undamaged.

“Elaine just moved here,” said Max. “I’m afraid this wasn’t a very good introduction, Elaine, but Mojave Center really promises to be a good place to live.”

MC Governor towered over Max as he looked down at him. “Do you need medical care? Either of you?”

“I’m okay,” said Elaine, looking up at him with wide-eyed wonder. “Thanks to you and the First Law of Robotics.”

“I twisted my ankle,” said Max, shifting his weight. “I don’t think it’s too serious, but maybe it should be looked at.”

“Of course.”

“We shouldn’t keep you,” said Elaine. “I’m sure you should be in contact with all your subordinates.”

“I am,” said MC Governor. “My multi-tasking ability allows me to make contacts and decisions even as we speak.” He lifted Max gently and began walking up the ramp. “Max, I will take you to the nearest first aid station.”

“Okay.”

Elaine walked with them. “Can I ask you another question? Why are you so gigantic?”

Max laughed.

“Actually, I am a gestalt robot. I am comprised of six robots, both in body and in mind.”

“What?” She cocked her head to one side, puzzled. “You mean you can divide into six smaller robots?”

“Yes, that is right.” MC Governor smiled. “The reason I am this big is that I can divide into six robots of rather small human stature, slender and short.”

“But what for? Why not just make one big one, like you are, if that’s what the city needs?”

“In the event of certain types of large-scale emergencies, I can divide into my component robots so that each can move directly to a different site to manage damage control.”

“Makes sense to me,” said Max. “Right, Elaine?”

“Yes, I see. But what about your brain, Governor? Does it segment somehow?”

“No, not physically.” MC Governor was amused at the thought. “Their positronic brains are physically distinct from mine, of course, but right now all six are merging data with mine to create my own personality. In order to divide, I will have to allow each latent personality to separate and take control over its data as well as its own body.”

“I’m impressed,” said Elaine. “And a little confused. I never heard of anything like this — that is, a robot like you.”

“He represents the new cutting edge in municipal robotics,” said Max. “I read all about him. And this very moment, even as he speaks to us, he’s also monitoring all the energy consumption, security matters, engineering functions, and anything else you can think of regarding the city.”

“You’re doing all that right now?” Elaine studied MC Governor’s face, as though for a clue of some sort to the effort he was expending.

“That is the job.” MC Governor shrugged amiably. “I was constructed for it, so to me, combining all these duties is not surprising.”

“Tell me,” said Elaine, studying his face curiously. “What do you do for fun?”

“Aw, I don’t think robots have a lot of fun,” said Max. “Oh, do they?”

“As a robot, my greatest pleasure is in obeying the Three Laws of Robotics. That value is hardwired into my positronic brain, as it is with all positronic robots.” MC Governor smiled, enjoying the mere thought of them. “The First Law of Robotics says,, A robot may not injure a human being —’”

“Yes,” said Elaine, nodding recognition. “We learned them in school.”

MC Governor heard her, but he really wanted to recite them all. Doing so gave him a feeling of security and satisfaction. “The Second Law is, ‘A robot must obey the orders given it by human beings except where such orders would conflict with the First Law.’ Then the Third Law of Robotics is —”

“‘A robot must protect his own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Laws,’ “Elaine finished, grinning impishly.

“Yes — exactly,” said MC Governor, suddenly embarrassed. “Please pardon me for boring you with this matter.” He was about to ask Elaine some polite questions about her interests when he received a radio alert from the city’s communication center.

“Governor, Priority 6 communication is requested.”

“Acknowledged,” said MC Governor. Priority 6 also required a shielded communication, so he would have to take it in his office, but it was not enough to override his duty to Max. He delivered Max to the robots at a first aid station, bade both humans goodbye, and hurried toward his office.

As MC Governor strode quickly down Antelope Valley Boulevard toward one of the slidewalks, he judged the damage he could see. The underground city had different levels, connected by various moving ramps, slidewalks, and lifts; generally, they appeared untouched. Of course, much of the water damage would not be immediately visible.

As he walked, all he could think about was that he had failed in his duty.

MC Governor sat down in his desk chair and plugged his humaniform forefinger into a wall jack once more. He gave his password and called for the Priority 6 message.

“Message source: The Governor Robot Oversight Committee Computer.

“Text: The Governor Robots of the following experimental cities have entered closed loops: Emerald City, Republic of Ireland; Kenyatta Center, Kenya; New Monegaw Springs, Missouri; Osaka Center, Japan; Rio de Oro Center, Brazil.”

The exact times that each Governor had entered the closed’ loop were given next. MC Governor adjusted those times for the different time zones in which each city was located around the world. He found that each Governor robot had malfunctioned within the last three hours.

MC Governor disconnected, his mind working quickly. He was one of only six Governor robots being tested on Earth right now, and the other five had all failed today. Since the Governors had all been constructed with the same basic design, he was forced to conclude that he would experience the same fate, probably very soon.

MC Governor had a very levelheaded, rational, not very flashy personality. He was totally dedicated to his job. However, when he was thinking alone, without having to pace himself to human abilities or to slower electronic equipment, he could think extremely quickly.

Now his own existence was threatened. Since neither a threat to humans nor direct human orders were present, the First and Second Laws of Robotics did not apply. Under these conditions, the Third Law of Robotics compelled him to evaluate his position at maximum efficiency in both speed and clarity.

Obviously, some crucial design flaw was about to make him enter a closed loop. It would put him into a state roughly parallel to a comatose condition in humans. Even worse, however, was the danger from the Oversight Committee of scientists.

In order to study him, they would have to dismantle him even if they could take control of him before he entered the closed loop. They would need nothing more than to reach him with a direct order for him to shut himself down until further notice; under the Second Law, their instruction alone would be enough to control his behavior. His first priority was to insulate himself from receiving any such instruction. After that, he would have to find out how to avoid entering the endless loop.

He was able to infer some information that was not actually part of the message. For instance, the message came from the Oversight Committee’s computer, not the committee itself. Their computer had probably judged for itself that the message should be sent to him. So far the scientists had apparently not learned of this.

MC Governor did not know how often the scientists actually reviewed the data regarding the Governors. Since the experimental robots had already been functioning successfully for many months without a problem, the four roboticists were probably not bothering to check the data too frequently. However, an emergency of this magnitude would probably prompt their computer to contact their offices directly. When they learned that he had caused water mains to break by incorrectly routing the normal water supply, they would be even more concerned.

His deliberations and immediate plans were formed in less than a second. A more detailed strategy would have to wait until he had more information. First he plugged back into the secure link to the city computer.

“Priority 10,” he instructed. That meant that only he or the scientists on the committee could access this. He had no way to prevent them from getting information from anywhere in the Mojave Center system, but he could stop accidental leaks of information. “Delete all records of receipt, storage, and acknowledgment of last Priority 6 message. Until further directives from me, indicate to all exterior and interior communications that city operations are functioning normally. Do not pass any direct instructions to me from any humans. Store them and use Priority 10 communication to tell me that some. have arrived, without revealing their content.”

When the city computer had acknowledged receipt, he withdrew his finger. That would delay any instructions from the Oversight Committee, but not for long. They would merely have to call any human here in Mojave Center and ask him to pass the orders on to MC Governor. If he stayed in his office, however, he would not have to hear any human instructions in person, either.

MC Governor plugged back into the city computer. “Priority 10. Have a detail of Security robots report to the exterior of my office immediately and block all humans from entering. The Security detail is to report to me if any humans approach my office. They are not to convey any direct messages of any kind to me from a human until and unless I personally give further instructions.”

He hesitated, at least by robotic standards. If a human ordered a Security robot to convey a message, the Second Law would override his own orders. He would have to block that possibility with a First Law imperative.

“I, MC Governor, may be in personal danger from anticipated human contact. If my functions are disrupted, harm may come to the human residents of Mojave Center. A First Law imperative is therefore involved.”

That would not stop the Oversight Committee’s directives from reaching him forever, but it would be enough at least to force the Committee to make some effort. The robots on Security detail would have to be persuaded that a greater or more immediate First Law imperative overrode this one. Otherwise, they would have to be physically disabled or destroyed before they would disobey his instructions.

The danger of his entering an endless loop was more complex. He had never noticed any tendency on his part to enter any sort of long-term loop. If the scientists on the Oversight Committee had learned of this problem, he would have heard from them before now. That meant that the problem was likely to hit with no internal warning.

His own monitoring systems might not be reliable. He judged that his best chance to learn something quickly about his own basic design was to contact his creator, Wayne Nystrom. Wayne was not part of the Oversight Committee, of course, since its mission was to study his work. MC Governor would have to call him and instruct the city computer to shield the call and delete all records of it.

MC Governor did not want — in human terms — to die.

2

WAYNE NYSTROM STOOD inside his air-conditioned mobile office, looking out the window. In the distance, the turquoise waters of the Atlantic Ocean and the pale sand of the Florida beach were bright in the sunlight. Immediately in front of him, however, robot drivers were piling the sand in huge mounds with giant earth movers, preparing a place for Turquoise Coast, the latest underground city of Wayne’s own design. Like the others, it would be run by a Governor robot that was still under construction.

“Biggest challenge yet,” he muttered. He was alone in his office, as he always preferred. Eccentric and secure in the knowledge of his own brilliance, he preferred his own company to anyone else’s and often carried out private conversations with himself, being the only human on any planet whom he really trusted. At the age of forty-one, he was finally achieving the success with his creations that he had always known he deserved.

His telephone beeped his personal code. He moved toward it reluctantly, still watching the robot crew dig into the sand outside. “And they told me I couldn’t build an underground city here because you strike water so soon under the surface,” he growled sourly. “Wrong again, as usual.”

He sighed and pushed the button on his telephone speaker. “Yeah?”

“Good day, Dr. Nystrom.” The humaniform robot face of Mojave Center Governor came on the video screen.

“Hello, Governor!” Wayne instantly relaxed when he realized that the caller was one of his own robotic creations. “I’m glad to hear from you! How are you?”

“I have an emergency situation that I may not be able to handle,” said MC Governor somberly.

“Not likely,” said Wayne, though he welcomed the challenge of an intellectual puzzle. Besides, MC Governor had always been somber and serious. “What’s the problem?”

“The Third Law prevents me from speaking of it by public telephone. I need help. Will you come to see me so that we can talk in private?”

“Of course,” said Wayne. “I stand by all of my creations. You know that. Will tomorrow be soon enough?”

“I fear not,” said MC Governor. “Every hour counts. Perhaps every minute.”

Wayne hesitated, surprised. He was anxious to know more and was suddenly frightened by the sense of urgency that MC Governor was conveying. “All right. This project doesn’t need me right now. I’ll arrange a flight right away.”

MC Governor disconnected, unsure whether Dr. Nystrom could really help him. While Dr. Nystrom might be the only one who could enlighten him quickly on his basic design flaw, his creator might simply arrive too late.

Dr. Nystrom would first have to pack and arrange a chartered SST flight from Florida to Mojave Center’s small airport. That would take some time, as would the flight itself. If nothing unexpected occurred to slow him down, he needed a couple of hours to get here at absolute minimum.

MC Governor decided to review his internal data. He began by examining his design in three-dimensional blueprint, but he saw nothing he had not seen before. Then he began running the standard simulation programs.

All the simulations presented options that involved the Three Laws of Robotics. As he reviewed them, he ran short segments of each, looking for irregularities. These simulations were as close to a hobby as he possessed.

MC Governor especially liked the simulations that presented him with First Law imperatives. In fact, they were the part of his programming that kept his morale high. He opened his favorite one, Earthquake Simulation 9, near the climax.

In this one, a major earthquake has shaken the San Andreas Fault, roughly seventy kilometers west of Mojave Center. Because of the danger of earthquakes in the region, Mojave Center had been designed and constructed as a self-contained, sealed unit. Its four sides and floor were sealed, the surfaces smooth and the edges rounded. Theoretically, it would float in the sand around it during an earthquake of virtually any magnitude, with its water tanks and batteries safely inside.

During a major quake, the box containing the city would be shaken, mostly laterally, snapping off the aqueducts that brought water down from the mountaintops in the area. The solar panels on the top surface, however, would remain attached and functional. When the quake stopped, the city should remain intact, though the floating might bring it to rest at a slightly tilted angle.

Inside the city, of course, all the positronic robot labor would be warning humans to stay inside and helping them find secure locations.

However, Earthquake Simulation 9 postulated an additional problem. After a simulated earthquake of nine on the Richter scale, Mojave Center has survived intact but has come to rest at a severe angle. The robots can adjust their perception of spatial relations more easily than humans, and the human residents are disoriented and near hysteria.

Then a major aftershock hits. Now that the city is no longer in its original position, and has already sustained major stress to its outer shell, it is much more vulnerable, and parts of the city begin to break. At this point, MC Governor decided to turn on the simulation.

In MC Governor’s positronic imagination, he strode through Antelope Valley Boulevard against four feet of rushing water. It flowed out of broken water pipes protruding from the walls and poured down all the streets.

“City computer,” MC Governor ordered in quick, firm tones through the radio link. “Shut down all electricity in Mojave Center now. Trigger all emergency chemical lights immediately. Priority I, First Law emergency in effect.”

Instantly, the normal bright, indirect electric light went off, to be replaced by slightly dimmer orange and yellow light sources provided by chemical reactions. They were in self-contained, waterproof units that would not, if broken, endanger humans by sending an electrical charge into the water. Meanwhile, helpless humans screamed and clung to whatever railings or fixed furnishings they could, in danger of drowning or being dashed against the walls, debris, and malfunctioning ramps and escalators.

As MC Governor passed, he picked them up in his strong arms as though they were children, holding them high above the dangerous water. “You will be taken to safety,” he said calmly. “Please do not struggle.”

Respecting his judgment and ability, the frightened humans obeyed him.

All around him, other robots were also rescuing humans from imminent death and severe injury wherever they could. Still more robots used tools or their own robotic body strength to close valves or crimp pipes shut in whatever way was possible. Driven by the First Law, every robot present was risking his own existence to save the humans.

With a woman sitting on his shoulders and two grown men under each arm, MC Governor forced his way to an upper level where an escalator was still functioning. He could have just set them down and let them find their way to the surface, but his interpretation of the First Law would not allow that. Instead, he climbed up the moving escalator, still carrying his charges.

On the top level, which was devoted entirely to engineering, MC Governor set down his human burden in temporary safety. Then he reached up to manipulate the controls of an emergency exit. It was a trapdoor that operated on springs instead of electricity so that it could still be used in moments such as this. He threw it open with a clang and led the three humans out into the fresh, dry air of the Mojave Desert, where, blinking and squinting in the bright sunlight, they stumbled onto the shiny solar panels that lay on the top of the city.

“Remain here,” said MC Governor. “Stay on the sand, away from the top surface of Mojave Center. The open sand will be safe in the event that additional aftershocks take place.”

They nodded and moved away from the solar panels that marked the top of the city.

MC Governor saw that they were safe and leaped back down through the trapdoor. Shouting and also sending a Priority 1 radio signal to all the robots, he announced that he had opened an escape route and described its location. As the other robots began directing and carrying humans to safety on the surface, he ran back down to pick up as many more of the injured and panicked humans as he could find.

MC Governor ran the simulation through to its conclusion, saving many lives by repeatedly carrying and leading humans to safety. The simulation ended when all the human survivors had been rescued. Then, deeply satisfied with the feeling of accomplishment in following a long, complex series of First Law imperatives, he turned it off.

As a routine matter, he checked the passage of time — and was astounded. He usually ran through a simulation in no more than fifteen to thirty seconds; even accounting for the time he had spent checking segments of other simulations, he had expected to find a total time usage of no more than forty seconds. Instead, he had used two minutes and six seconds. While the time itself was not significant, the extent of his miscalculation was alarming.

“First clue I have found of something wrong,” he said to himself. “This kind of malfunction is rare for a positronic brain.” He decided to call up the times he had spent on simulations during the past week.

What he found was even more worrisome. Each occasion had taken more time than the one before, and he had not previously noticed that. Also, the curve was rising sharply. He had spent two minutes, six seconds this time; one minute, twenty-one seconds the previous incident; fifty-nine seconds before that. These simulations had been run during the last twelve hours. Before these, the times were all in the normal range, from thirty to forty-five seconds.

“This may be it. The problem I have been looking for. If I can figure out exactly what it is.”

MC Governor usually checked the time of all his activities, as a matter of routine. After running each of these simulations, he should have noticed the unusual times, but he had not. Of course, at that time, he had not been alerted to the possibility of a significant flaw in his design, so the increases had not seemed important.

Now they did.

He began calculating an extrapolation of his recent behavior with the simulations. This included the simulations he had chosen, their characteristics, and the length of time he had spent on each one. It took very little time.

When MC Governor had finished his calculations, he knew that he was in serious trouble. The length of time he was spending running each simulation was rising so rapidly that at the existing rate, he would do nothing else in only a few more hours. That was consistent with his meager information about the fate of the other Governor robots.

The cause he had found was even more serious. By sifting through all the simulations available, and examining those that he had been selecting more and more frequently, he had isolated a handful of them that all possessed the same flaw. Each of the bad simulations was improperly triggering his response to the Three Laws of Robotics, enhancing his devotion to them out of proportion to the fact that these were merely simulated experiences.

Because of this flaw in the simulation programs, all the Governor robots eventually would find a scenario in which they would be obeying all Three Laws of Robotics to the utmost. They would experience a virtual robot’s Utopia. Since a robot’s only pleasure came from obeying the Three Laws of Robotics, this simulation would provide a kind of perpetual high, almost like that of drug addiction.

Since the other Governors had already entered closed loops, MC Governor estimated that the simulation was just as addictive to robots as certain drugs were to humans.

The process was simple, involving three stages of addiction. First, any Governor running the flawed simulation programs would devote more and more of his time and energy to these simulations. This was where MC Governor stood now.

Second, the Governor robot would spend all his time in simulations, still running the city simultaneously with his multi-tasking abilities. In the final stage, his flow of orders and actions would slow drastically, impairing the execution of his normal duties. As the program went into an endless loop and brought all other thoughts to a halt, he would ultimately shut himself down.,

“I have not reached that point yet,” MC Governor said inwardly. “But even now I can feel the craving to run another simulation. I have predicted my own destruction.”

The Third Law of Robotics would not allow him to sit passively and wait for that destruction, however.

MC Governor checked his monitors for a routine review of the city. As usual, everything was running fine. Then he took another step toward shielding himself.

First he shut down all incoming communication except his emergency line. That would prevent any chance of his thoughts accidentally mixing with a link to the city or another robot. His efforts to escape the endless loop and subsequent dismantling by investigating roboticists would require leaving as slight a trail as possible.

“I see one chance,” MC Governor decided. The six component humaniform robots comprising him could not run the simulation individually. “So if I divide — if they split up — they are in no danger of the addiction. I will not exist in this current form, but I will have obeyed the Third Law by preserving all my component parts and their data.”

The problem did not end there, however. The six component robots could not run the city of Mojave Center after they had separated. They would still have all of MC Governor’s data and communication devices, but that would not be enough for them to do his job.

The information from the various monitors that were physically located within their bodies normally flowed to the gestalt consciousness of the Governor. That consciousness would cease to exist when the Governor divided, leaving the data nowhere to combine and the city computer and sensors nowhere to send their signals.

“I will not be able to function in this job, either in my gestalt form or in a divided form.” MC Governor knew that he still faced imminent destruction.

Naturally, once the Governor was no longer running the city, the Oversight Committee monitoring the experiment would want to know why. To find out, they would dismantle all the component robots, effectively killing the Governor. So the Third Law still required that he take more steps to save them.

“They must flee,” MC Governor decided. “Each one separately, wherever he chooses to go. Like the other Governors, I will have failed my field test, but the Oversight Committee can arrange for older models of robots to run the city.”

An alert reached him through his emergency line. According to his recent instructions, it conveyed no other information. Worried, he plugged his finger back into the cable jack and gave his password.

“Messages have arrived for you, Governor,” reported the city computer.

“Give me the sources,” said MC Governor. “No actual messages.”

“Two from the Oversight Committee computer, one from Dr. Redfield of that committee.”

“Priorities?”

“The first two are Priority 6. The last is Priority 10.”

MC Governor disconnected. He had very little time left.

3

MC GOVERNOR MADE an internal shift in his programming. He activated the six positronic brains of the component robots. They were sharing his data already, but they would need to join in the deliberations he was making. Since they all had different specialties, they also had distinct personalities. The seven-way discussion was conducted through internal signals.

“Where would you flee under this Third Law imperative?” MC Governor asked them.

“We must be careful not to go anywhere that would endanger humans,” MC 1 warned.

“Obviously,” said MC 2. “We all know the Laws as well as you.”

“My specialty is the environmental impact of Mojave Center on the surrounding desert,” said MC 1. “I can tell all of you that finding a place on Earth where we will not disturb anyone will be difficult.”

“You know I am the troubleshooter for this city,” said MC 2. “I find that there is always a solution of some kind to a problem.”

“Stay focused on the subject, please,” MC Governor said sternly. “We do not have much time. Now, clearly the First Law prevents us from disrupting others. The other pertinent question is, where can we hide effectively? We — that is, the six of you — will be fugitives. Your chances of getting on board spacecraft to leave the planet are poor. So are your chances of evading capture if you stay on this planet. MC 3, you specialize in city Security. What is your appraisal?”

“To robots, ‘security’ requires that we avoid receiving instructions from any human. Otherwise, under the Second Law, virtually any human can capture us. just by ordering us to cooperate with him. However, I believe we can avoid hearing any instructions.”

“How?” MC Governor asked. He was feeling a stronger desire than ever before to run one of those simulation programs again. The addiction was increasing its power over him.

“Mojave Center has a new generation of miniaturization unit in its Bohung Medical Research Institute. These are most often used to reduce robots and equipment to microscopic size so that they can work on humans by traveling through the bloodstream.”

“This is nothing new,” said MC Governor. “The principle is quite old, in fact.”

“Our new unit can do far more than earlier types,” said MC 3. “As before, a shower of subatomic particles alters the molecular structure of the subject, yet allows the subject to retain its shape and functions. The equipment itself will not shrink. Only we will. The difference —”

“This is a start,” said MC 4. “But if we are still within the hearing of human instructions, we can be apprehended under the Second Law, even if we are too small to be seen.”

“Allow MC 3 to finish,” ordered MC Governor.

“The difference,” MC 3 continued angrily, “is that this unit is theoretically capable of using the same system to create time travel.”

For the first time, MC Governor felt an energy surge of excitement. “Really? How can this work?”

“Some simple modifications in the miniaturization equipment will alter the character of the device. As a time travel gate, it also showers the traveler with subatomic particles. Chaos theory in physics has established that a certain percentage of the particles will move out of time, as in experiments involving the Heisenberg uncertainty principle; in sufficient combination, they will create a funnel into the past. When that funnel is large enough, it will take anything within its cone back to a certain point in time. If we are microscopic at the time, we can be taken.”

“How much control do we have over where we go?” MC 6, the city specialist in social stability, was programmed to be cautious.

“We should have precise control, based on the precision of the machine and its equipment,” said MC 3. “Remembering, of course, that this has never actually been attempted.”

“So a Third Law danger exists,” said MC 6. “But that is overridden by the imperatives of the First and Second Laws, which might be well served.”

“If you go back to any point in time before the positronic brain was invented,” said MC Governor, “none of the humans around you will have heard of the Three Laws of Robotics. So they would never try to control you with orders under the Second Law.”

“If they saw us, they might tell us what to do mistaking us for humans,” said MC 4. “We would still have to obey them, even if they did not know we are robots.”

“The danger would be changing the past,” said MC Governor. “Anything you did back in time, especially in relation to significant historical events, could violate the First Law by altering the course of history.”

“We cannot take that risk,” said MC 3. “In the very act of interacting with other humans, we would come across First Law imperatives in our immediate surroundings. We would have to act, and in doing so, we would be changing history.”

“Exactly,” said MC Governor.

“We can avoid that problem,” MC 3 added. “The combination of miniaturization and time travel should eliminate it.”

“That should work,” said MC 5. “I understand. First we miniaturize to microscopic level. Then we go back into the past. Once there, we will be too small to perceive First Law imperatives and no humans will give us any instructions because they will not know we exist.”

“It sounds acceptable to me,” said MC Governor. “Does anyone see a flaw in this logic?”

None of the robots answered immediately. MC Governor waited patiently. Then, one by one, each of them agreed that this appeared to be an acceptable course of action.

“Does anyone have another plan that will satisfy the Laws of Robotics to an equal degree and entail less risk?” MC Governor asked.

Another robotic pause followed. Again, each of the six gradually concluded that this was the best plan that the group could devise. MC Governor concurred.

“Then we must get to the miniaturization device,” said MC Governor. “MC 3, how difficult are the modifications that must be made?”

“They are complex, but the description is available in the city library.”

“What tools are required?”

“A set of precision tools is stored in the same room for use by the robot technician assigned to the machine,” said MC 3. “That robot’s identification can be found in our standard list. He is, of course, capable of making the necessary changes. He is working there full time.”

“Get me his name,” said MC Governor. Now that he had partially disengaged his gestalt personalities, he could not directly control or access all his normal functions and data.

“He is R. Ishihara,” said MC 3.

“Thank you. Our immediate challenge now is to reach the machine without receiving any messages under the Second Law. I will make these arrangements. During this time, I will leave all of you functional. If you think or learn of anything significant, speak up. Otherwise, I request silence so that I may turn all of my attention to the task at hand.”

The six component robots acknowledged his instructions and turned quiet.

MC Governor would have to break radio silence in order to reach the Bohung Institute. Also, to get there without risking receiving human instructions, especially that message from Dr. Redfield, he would require help. He contacted the Security detail that he had ordered to guard his office door.

“Detail Chief, identify.”

“R. Horatio, Security Chief 12. Detail size, six humaniform robots.”

“Horatio, as we speak, order a closed vehicle to come here. It must be large enough to carry me and your entire detail in private. It must also be an ordinary vehicle without markings that will attract attention.”

“So ordered, sir.”

“When I sign off, I will shut down all of my sensors and communication links except the tactile sensitivity in my right hand. At sign off, when the vehicle has arrived, you are to lead your detail into my office and carry me unseen into the vehicle. If others, human or robot, approach, you are to detain them and bring them with us without explanation, barring only, of course, the imperatives of the Laws of Robotics. Then you will transport me to the Bohung Institute in secrecy.”

“Yes, sir. Where in the Institute, sir?”

MC Governor quickly switched to a shielded internal link, “MC 3, what is the name of the room where the miniaturization equipment is housed in the Institute?”

“Technical Laboratory F-12,”

MC Governor radioed the room number to Horatio. “When we have arrived, you will pat my right hand three times in quick succession, This will signal me to reactivate,”

“Understood, sir.”

“This entire project is to be carried out in absolute secrecy. My identity and destination are private under a Third Law imperative to me.”

“We will respect it, sir. However, regarding your privacy, I assume you are aware that the institute’s employees are currently working there, as normal?”

“Yes, Chief. Please hold.” MC Governor shifted internally again. Using his authority as Governor, he contacted the Institute Chief of Security.

“R. Langtimm, Institute Chief of Security, Governor.”

“Please conduct a complete evacuation of the Institute,” MC Governor ordered. “With the single exception of R. Ishihara, assigned to Room F-12. He will remain to accept instructions from me in person. Also see that no onlookers are left in the immediate area outside. You will not identify me as the source of the evacuation order. Do you have any existing imperatives under the Laws of Robotics that would prevent this procedure at this time?”

“No, sir.”

“Good. All entrances except the main doors are to be sealed. I am sending a Security detail there soon for a private purpose. After evacuation, you will maintain a Security detail outside the main door until a vehicle arrives from my office. At that time, you will verify the identification of Security Detail Chief R. Horatio and transfer the responsibility for the Institute to him. Then you and your detail will go off duty indefinitely. None of you will volunteer any information pertaining to this project, ever. Acknowledge.”

“Acknowledged. Time of commencement?”

“Now,” said MC Governor, disconnecting. He knew that if a human ordered the robots to reveal their information, they would have to answer under the Second Law. Leaving no trail was impossible; the best he could do was minimize it.

He turned back to his link with R. Horatio. “Inside the Institute, you will convey me to Room F-12, where you will identify R. Ishihara, a technician who works there. You will signal me at that time. Begin.”

MC Governor shut down all external links and sensors, except for the feeling in his right hand.

In this condition, in total silence and total darkness, he had little awareness that his orders were being carried out. He felt another hand gently move his, probably to make carrying him easier, and then the sense that his hand was now resting on his abdomen, probably as he was placed inside the vehicle. During the trip, he had absolute trust in the reliability of the robots under his authority as Governor. The only possible problem would be unforeseen imperatives under the Three Laws.

During the trip, he reviewed all his information. He found no basic flaws in the logic of this procedure. Every thought returned to his fundamental motive: the Third Law required him to save himself if he could do so without violating the First and Second.

In the absence of more sensory and other input data, time seemed to pass slowly. When he felt his hand shifting slightly again, indicating that he was being taken out of the vehicle, he checked his internal clock. He had judged that prompt transport from his office to the Bohung Institute would require approximately twelve minutes, depending on the density of traffic. Slightly over fourteen minutes had passed, easily within the normal range of error.

When three gentle but firm pats struck his hand quickly, he resumed normal functions.

MC Governor found himself lying on a couch that normally only humans would need. He stood up, looking around. Room F-12, intended specifically

for miniaturizing, was divided into two sections. He, Horatio and his Security detail, and one other robot were in an area where researchers would ordinarily work. It was lined with desks and computer terminals. A transparent wall divided it from the other side, which housed one machine.

“Have any unforeseen problems arisen?” MC Governor asked Horatio.

“No, Governor.”

“Did anyone see me during transport?”

“No, sir.”

“Excellent. You are R. Ishihara?” MC Governor asked the stranger.

“Yes.”

“Horatio, leave us. You and your detail will remain outside the main doors and will not allow anyone to enter. You will stay there until I send R. Ishihara to you with my further instructions. If any situation under the Three Laws requires you or your detail to alter your behavior, you will inform Ishihara at once, before you leave. My own radio link will be shut down again. Otherwise, you will make no attempt to contact me. As you leave the building, your detail will also turn off your aural sensitivity until you are too far away to hear our voices. You are not to hear anything related to my presence in this building.”

“Yes, Governor.” Horatio led his detail out of the room and down the hall.

“Ishihara,” said MC Governor, turning to him. “You and I will speak strictly out loud at low volume. We will not use any radio links so as to avoid interception by any other robots, even accidentally.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Identify the function of this room for me.”

“Well, Governor.” Ishihara pointed to the solid metal sphere beyond the transparent wall. It was roughly fifteen meters in diameter. “This is the unit that miniaturizes robots and equipment to microscopic size for surgery.”

“And I understand that it can be modified to send items into the past.”

“Theoretically, yes.”

“Ishihara, I am now operating under a Third Law requirement. As Governor, I am instructing you to help me. When you have finished, you will leave the building and tell Horatio and his detail to resume their normal duties. At that time, you will do the same. None of you will volunteer any information about my activities here.”

“Understood, Governor.”

“According to the theory of time travel which governs this device, can someone pick the precise destination of such travel in both time and location?”

“Yes, Governor. The same controls that specify the degree of miniaturization would in this case alter the destination in time and place. That would be part of the modifications that are required.”

“You are capable of making these modifications?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Begin them. I must modify myself.”

4

WAYNE NYSTROM RODE the escalator tube that carried him from the exit door of his chartered jet directly down into Mojave Center. This escalator took him to a lift in one of the upper levels, which he used to reach the central floor. Dressed casually and carrying a large, light shoulder bag with personal items and one change of clothes, he stepped out of the lift and quickly walked to the nearest slidewalk on the main boulevard of the city.

“Everything looks normal,” he muttered to himself. The streets were still clean and smooth, indicating that the usual functions of maintenance robots were continuing. That was important since any danger to humans would, of course, force any robots who noticed to leave their regular jobs and help them. Around him, humans and robots conducted their business with a mixture of determination and everyday routine that also seemed ordinary.

“Excuse me. I need assistance,” he called to a robot driving by on a small cargo cart.

“How can I help you?” The robot came to a sudden stop.

“Please contact Mojave Center Governor for me. My name is Dr. Wayne Nystrom and he is expecting to see me. I need to know where to find him.”

“Of course, Dr. Nystrom.” The robot frowned. “I have signaled by radio. His response is usually immediate. Now I am sending a message through the city computer.”

Wayne nodded, waiting with mounting curiosity.

“The city computer has agreed to accept a message and page him,” said the robot. “I will convey a message for you if you like.”

“Tell him that I have arrived in Mojave Center and will meet him anywhere that he designates,” said Wayne.

“Done,” said the robot.

“Can you give me a ride to MC Governor’s office?”

“Of course. Join me up here on the bench and strap in, please.”

Wayne did so, riding in silence. He looked around as the cart moved, still observing that the city was to all appearances functioning normally. For MC Governor to be momentarily out of contact would not have been alarming except for the call he had made to Wayne. When they reached MC Governor’s office, Wayne hopped down and sent the robot on his way.

Wayne was surprised to find the door to MC Governor’s office closed. He pushed the doorbell, then knocked. Finally he tried the doorknob, expecting it to be locked. Instead, it turned. Cautiously, he opened the door.

“Normal here, too.” He glanced around, but the office of a Governor robot never had much in it. A couple of chairs stood across the desk for humans who might come here for an appointment. A beverage server was embedded in the wall for guests. Otherwise, only the desk and the desk chair were in the room. He closed the door behind him, moved around the desk, and sat down in the desk chair.

Wayne opened the desk drawers and found them empty. The desk was just for show. MC Governor didn’t need a computer terminal, either, since he had one inside his robot body. Wayne saw the wall jack that MC Governor would use for shielded communication, but a human had no use for it. No other communication devices were in the office for the simple reason that MC Governor bore all of them within his body.

“Nothing for me here,” Wayne got up and left the office, closing the door behind him. On the boulevard, he hailed another robot, who was using a hand-held inspection tool on a wall. “Call a Security robot to this location, please.”

“Of course,” said the robot. “Are you under the threat of harm, sir?”

“Not immediately,” said Wayne. “At this time, I just need to confer with a Security chief,” He identified himself.

“Very well.” The robot returned to his duties.

In less than a minute, a single robot arrived in a small, fast-moving Security vehicle. “Dr. Nystrom? I am R. Horatio, the Security chief assigned to this section of Mojave Center,” He jumped lightly out of the cart.

“Pleased to meet you. Are you familiar with my name?”

“Yes, sir, I have just verified your identity with the city computer through visual record and your voiceprint. I am honored to meet you. How can I assist you?”

“Can you locate MC Governor for me?”

“You mean by standard communication link?”

“Yes. I asked a robot to do this a little while ago and the Governor could not be reached.”

“I am still in contact with the city computer. I see that your message is on file. MC Governor has not accessed it.”

“Please try again.”

“Yes, sir. Attempting now.”

“Hm. No response?”

“Not yet, sir.”

“I would like a computer terminal with access to the city computer.”

Horatio hesitated. “You do not have the authority for that, sir.”

“Not by statute,” Wayne agreed. “Who is your superior in Security?”

“I report directly to MC Governor.”

“Ah! Then the choice falls to you. Here’s my problem. I think that MC Governor has an unusual difficulty of some sort. If he’s not able to perform his duties in running the city, then First Law imperatives may be developing for every human in Mojave Center. I request a chance to avoid that possibility. As the designer of Mojave Center and the Governor robots, I have the best chance of helping him here.”

Horatio observed him in silence, only for a split second, but long enough for Wayne to notice. Then the robot nodded. “Dr. Nystrom, I am persuaded to give you access to the terminal in my Security cart. However, I must request that you share your conclusions with me.”

Wayne knew that Horatio’s programming as Security chief required him to be very careful, so arguing would be a waste of time. “Agreed.”

“I am entering your voiceprint now,” said Horatio. “You are screened for use.” He turned aside and patted the front seat of the Security cart. Wayne climbed into the passenger side. A computer terminal was in the console in front of him.

“Display current function of MC Governor,” Wayne said to the terminal.

“None found,” said the computer terminal. “Insane,” muttered Wayne. “Display standard monitors of electricity generation and storage, water use, and the air mixture in the ventilation system.”

The monitors appeared in front of him. All the levels were well within the normal range. In fact, they were maddeningly average.

“Show curves of use in the last six hours.” Water use was high early in the curve, but only for a short while.

“Show me the most recent functions of Mojave center Governor identified on file.”

The screen read:

“Communication with R. Horatio, Security Chief, Antelope Valley Boulevard.

“Communication with R. Langtimm, Security Chief, Bohung Institute.”

Wayne suddenly realized that Horatio was keeping some information to himself. He blanked the screen and turned to Horatio. Before he could speak, Horatio beat him to it.

“An urgent call for Mojave Center Governor has come in to the city computer,” said Horatio. “The Governor Robot Oversight Committee is in a conference call.”

“Calling you?”

“When MC Governor was not available, they requested the Security Chief, bringing the call to me. When they requested help regarding MC Governor, I told them you were here and they wish to speak with you.”

“I wish you hadn’t told them,” Wayne said sourly. “None of your business that I’m here. None of theirs, either.”

Horatio ignored his tone. “Your portable terminal is not equipped for holographic images, but I can transfer the call to it for you. Shall I?”

“Sure,” muttered Wayne, feeling his heart begin to pound. “Let’s see what they want.”

The screen quartered into portrait shots of the four scientists on the committee. They were seeing his face at the same time. After greetings had been exchanged, they got right to the point.

“What are you doing there, Dr. Nystrom?” Dr. Redfield asked. She was a tall, slender blond. “Have you seen MC Governor in the last hour?”

“No,” Wayne growled angrily. “I came to see how my creation was doing. Is that a crime?”

“Easy, Doctor,” said Professor Post. He frowned, his dark curly hair and black pointed beard making him look threatening. “We’re all on the same side.”

“No, we aren’t,” Wayne said firmly. “I’m here to see to my work. You want to pass judgment on it and you’re doing it prematurely. Leave this to me.”

“You know we can’t do that,” said Dr. Chin, a short, pretty Chinese American. “We are charged with evaluating this system. Maybe you should know, Dr. Nystrom, that the other five Governors have failed in their duties in the last day or so.”

Wayne stared at her, astonished. “What?”

“They have entered closed loops.” Dr. Khanna enunciated precisely in his Hindi accent, which marked him as a native of northern India. “Their functions have been transferred to standard municipal robots.”

“Obviously,” said Dr. Redfield, “the same problem is likely for Mojave Center Governor. We were hoping to reach him before the same fate took him. It looks like we’re too late. However, we must find him.”

“In the meantime, we will have to assign new robots to take over the responsibilities of running Mojave Center,” said Professor Post.

Wayne stared at their faces, momentarily speechless. Finally, he shook his head. “No. No. This can’t be right. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“We put in calls to your Florida office today,” said Dr. Redfield. “You must have already left.”

“No.” Wayne leaned forward toward the screen. “No! I should have been told about this when the first Governor shut down. So I could get right on this!”

“Our first duty was to assign new robots to the cities to keep them running safely,” Professor Post said calmly.

“We contacted you as a courtesy,” said Dr. Chin. “This committee does not report to you.”

“Are you trying to sabotage my project?” Wayne pointed at her face accusingly. “You don’t want to let me in on this.”

“We are to judge the functioning of the Governor robots themselves,” said Dr. Khanna. “You signed an agreement to that effect when this project began. Now, then, as to the current situation —”

Wayne pounded on the disconnect key with his fist. The terminal screen returned to a standard display. Angrily, Wayne jumped out of the cart, landing in front of Horatio’s impassive face.

“Where is he?” Wayne demanded.

“I do not know.”

“Under the Second Law, I order you to answer all my questions honestly! Where is MC Governor?”

“I do not know where Mojave Center Governor robot is,” said Horatio carefully.

Wayne glared at him, slowly composing himself. He knew that Horatio could not lie about this unless a First Law imperative required it.

“Tell me if a First Law imperative is influencing your judgment and responses under the Second Law.”

“No, Dr. Nystrom. None is.”

Wayne thought about that. If the First Law imperative were strong enough, he could still be lying. “You communicated with MC Governor shortly before his disappearance. Was he involved with a First Law imperative?”

“To some degree.”

Wayne’s temper subsided. Dealing with erratic, untrustworthy humans often frustrated him, but robots were direct, honest, and reliable within the framework of the Three Laws. “So he felt an indirect concern over the First Law — maybe one that is not immediate?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Was he involved with a Third Law imperative?”

“Yes, Dr. Nystrom.”

“Aha.” Wayne nodded grimly. “So he vanished to save himself. Is that correct?”

“That is correct.”

“But you don’t know where he is now?”

“No.”

Wayne smiled wryly. “Doc Nystrom don’t program no idiot robots.”

“Sir?”

“Just a private joke. So MC Governor was careful not to leave you with information that would leave a clear trail.”

“That is correct.”

“Horatio, I have to convince you that I want to help MC Governor. Right now, it looks like he’s the only Governor who’s still functioning. Do you understand what will happen to all the other Governor robots?”

“They will have to be examined for their flaws.”

“Yes! Exactly. But those scientists on the committee just want to find a reason to destroy all the Governors — and my career as well. I’m not under the threat of physical harm, Horatio, but my life’s work is in danger, and that means all the years of my life could be thrown away — made into nothing. Do you understand how that can harm me?”

“I understand that your career is deeply important to you, Dr. Nystrom. However, the Governor robots must have their flaws corrected. Otherwise, they could accidentally harm all the humans under their influence someday, perhaps through neglect of their duties.”

“Of course, of course. But here’s the difference, Horatio. The committee wants to chop up the Governors, pull out their insides, and leave them in pieces.”

“I should think the roboticists would then fix them properly and return them to service.”

“You don’t know them, Horatio!” Wayne kept his frustration and worry in check. To persuade a robot to change his mind would require calm, clear thinking. “Committees don’t exist to fix things. Their purpose is to write reports. They will each write reports about the Governors. Then they will conclude that the Governors can’t be trusted to take care of humans and the Governor robots will be junked, along with my professional reputation. You follow me so far?”

“Yes, I do. But why would they not recommend improving the Governor robots and then using them as planned?”

“Aw, Horatio. I love robots. You’re so rational. The reason is that they’re jealous of my accomplishments and the financial success I’ve attained. They aren’t rational the way you are, Horatio. Perhaps you’ve noticed that about us humans in your own work.”

“Well, yes, I have.”

“Horatio, I want to save the Governors. If I can reach MC Governor first, then I can do the work. I can find the flaw, correct it, and demonstrate to the committee that he has been fixed.”

“If they hate you so much, could they not still stop you?”

“At that point, they wouldn’t dare stop me from putting the other Governors safely back on line. But if I can’t find and fix MC Governor first, the committee will kill my creations. I want to save them.”

“I see the difference, sir.”

“Then help me protect MC Governor. Tell me what you know, and take me to his last known location.”

“All right, Dr. Nystrom. Let us go.”

5

R. HUNTER WAS a new robot, finished and programmed according to the specifications of the Governor Robot Oversight Committee, which had also arranged for his services. He was to locate the missing Governor robot. The committee sent him all of their existing data on the problem while he was on a chartered flight to Mojave Center. When the data had been transferred, the committee members contacted him on a conference call.

Hunter had been programmed with substantial information on dealing with humans. Like other robots, he understood that they often preferred direct contact. The purpose for this was more to get a feeling for someone’s personality than to accomplish a specific goal. Humoring them, he accepted their conference call, examining the first human faces he had seen on his internal video screen with some curiosity of his own.

After introductions, Dr. Chin asked, “Would you mind describing your current appearance? According to our request, you are a humaniform robot six feet tall, capable of altering your appearance at will, and I would like to know what appearance you will use as you proceed. We can see your face on the screen, of course, but I would like a quick summary of your overall look.”

“I am still using the appearance given to me as I was being completed. Six feet tall, blond hair, blue eyes, northern European bone structure and skin tone, and the body of a champion athlete. The myriad microscopic solar cells on my skin that provide my energy do not interfere with my humanoid appearance. I suppose I will continue to use this look until I have some reason to alter it.”

“That is reasonable,” Dr. Khanna said. “How will you make judgments of that sort? That is, how would you appraise your own personality?”

“My personality was programmed both to solve the mystery of MC Governor’s flight and to follow him as necessary to apprehend him. So, even more than most robots, I am goal-oriented and single-minded except, of course, where the Laws of Robotics influence my. priorities. I can socialize with humans as required and, as much as possible, I will try to imitate the robotic thinking of MC Governor.”

“I’m sure your programming is right for the job,” said Dr. Redfield. “Please pardon our questions. A great deal of expense has been put into the Governors and the cities they were intended to run, so we’re just looking for a little reassurance.”

“MC Governor must have left a trail of some sort,” said Hunter. “I am sure I can pick it up with no problem.”

“What will your first move be?” Professor Post asked.

“The most powerful tool I have at this stage is the authority you granted me with the city computer to access information directly. Once I have located MC Governor’s last known location, I will start an eyes-on search of the spot and track him the best I can.”

“I’m sure that will be fine,” said Dr. Chin.

When the committee had disconnected, Hunter reviewed his information. It was not much, but he expected that the Governor was still inside the city somewhere. He was relieved to have found the humans on the committee to be reasonable and cooperative. His background data on humans had led him to expect otherwise.

Hunter contacted the city computer while he was still in the air. The committee had entered his authority into the city computer themselves. That gave him the ability to bypass any standard procedures or special orders that would normally have prevented a visiting robot from directly accessing priority information.

By the time Hunter arrived at Mojave Center, he knew that MC Governor had arranged to be taken in secret to the Bohung Institute. Security records had told him that much. He also learned that all the human and robotic personnel except R. Ishihara had signed off for the day just before MC Governor had arrived at the Institute.

With that knowledge, Hunter accessed the city computer’s map and walked straight to the Institute. As he walked, he instructed the city computer to order R. Ishihara to report to his usual station. Ishihara met him in Room F-12, where Hunter identified himself.

Hunter studied the equipment in the room visually. At the same time, he accessed and recorded the city computer’s explanation of its standard use. Then he turned to Ishihara. They communicated with their radio comlinks, allowing them to think and converse at robotic speed, unhampered by the slowness of speech designed for human understanding.

“I think you met MC Governor here and assisted him in some way. Were the Laws of Robotics involved?”

Ishihara hesitated.

“The Governor probably requested that you not volunteer any information. I understand your desire to cooperate with him. However, I must tell you that his disappearance involves an indirect First Law imperative regarding any humans that he contacts. Perhaps he told you that he was in danger under the Third Law. Tell me if that is true.”

“Yes.”

“I must know where he went, Ishihara. The First Law requires that you help me find him.”

“An indirect First Law imperative leaves me room for interpretation,” said Ishihara. “Convince me that the danger to humans is clear. By now, you know that MC Governor’s functions with the city have been transferred to other robots. How can he endanger anyone now?”

“Tell me where he went,” said Hunter.

“I agreed not to volunteer any information.”

“Then help me in a limited way. Explain to me what he wanted from you. Surely you accept that the possibility of a First Law problem requires some investigation.”

“I do.” Ishihara nodded toward the equipment beyond the transparent wall. “He wanted me to make modifications in this and show him how to use it.”

“What were these modifications?”

“They make this system theoretically capable of sending microscopic targets backward in time.”

Hunter was surprised. Nothing in his data suggested a possibility of this kind. “You said theoretically. It has not been tested?”

“Not when MC Governor first asked me.”

“He used it, then?”

Ishihara said nothing.

“Yes, yes, you agreed not to volunteer anything. What were the circumstances when you last saw him?”

“MC Governor ordered me to leave the premises while he remained here.”

“Are you saying that, to your knowledge, he did not leave this room in a normal manner?”

“I am.”

“Then show me the controls and calibrations on this equipment and explain what they mean. Begin with a summary of how this works.”

“Come with me.” The transparent wall slid soundlessly up into the ceiling; Ishihara was obviously controlling it through his comlink. He led Hunter into the other chamber. On the sphere’s console, the power was still on.

“Do you routinely leave this equipment turned on?”

“No.”

“How does it work?”

“The miniaturization is accomplished by striking the target with an intense spray of subatomic particles. The result is a gradual and proportional shrinkage of the target.”

“In what way did you modify this?”

“By altering the content and concentration of the spray, and utilizing the uncertainty principle of quantum mechanics, the equipment can send the target back in time.”

“According to standard chaos theory, that’s impossible. Chaotic systems are clearly irreversible.”

“This system also utilizes the uncertainty principle of chaotic dynamical systems. That is, calculations under chaos theory by definition involve chance. These modifications cross the random nature of chaotic calculations with those of the uncertainty principle in quantum mechanics, bringing the two systems together.”

“Show me your modifications.”

As Ishihara did so, Hunter studied both the miniaturization system and the new theoretical time travel capability. By the time the explanation had ended, Hunter understood both. He took several moments to attempt a theoretical calculation.

The result showed Hunter an apparent contradiction in their effects. To be sure, he ran several more. All exhibited the same problem.

“Ishihara, according to the two theories you gave me, I think the time travel program is going to interfere with the miniaturization.”

“How so?”

“According to my results, the uncertainty principle of quantum mechanics remains inherently incompatible with events as interpreted by chaos theory. I see that the effects can be compounded by this technology, but the results are going to neutralize each other. If the miniaturization is done first with a spray designed under one set of calculations, then the second spray will neutralize some of the effects of the first one. Specifically, the time travel will make the miniaturization temporary.” Hunter went on to give him an example of his calculations.

“I see your point.”

“So as a result of all this, MC Governor will have begun a slow countdown to enlargement back to normal size as the flaw in the program causes the atoms to begin drawing energy from his environment and returning his atomic structure to normal.”

“I agree,” said Ishihara. “That is an important observation. I will add it to the permanent data on this subject.”

“Now I have to know where MC Governor went, Ishihara. You must tell me.”

“What difference does this make?”

“I think MC Governor went back into time to hide from the committee that employed me to find him. I surmise that the First Law required him to miniaturize himself first to avoid actions that might change history and harm humans. Is this consistent with your observations of him?”

“Yes, it is.”

“However, since the miniaturization is temporary, he will resume normal size at a certain point, almost certainly without prior warning. From then on, he is definitely in danger of harming humans by altering history. I must find him and return him to our own time. This should be a clear enough First Law imperative for you to help me.”

“I agree. What do you want me to do?”

“If I go into the past after him, I must bring him back. Is this possible?”

“I will have to study this matter.”

“All right. You consider how to do that and I will make some more calculations.”

Hunter studied the data he had gathered about the two processes this system contained. MC Governor’s miniaturization would collapse in geometric stages of two, so once, the process began, it would accelerate rapidly. His examination of the time travel gate showed him where the most recent use of the gate had sent its subject in time.

“The Cretaceous Period of the Mesozoic Era, about sixty million years ago, in what is now western North America,” Hunter said thoughtfully. “When dinosaurs roamed the earth. So that is where MC Governor went.”

“It makes sense,” said Ishihara. “No humans existed in that time to harm. Nor were there any to give him orders under the Second Law.”

“A perfect hiding place,” said Hunter. “As long as he remains microscopic.”

“Hunter, I have reviewed my data on your question. I believe a device can be made that would trigger the time travel function even from the past. It will draw the funnel created by the particle shower down on it and, therefore, on the individual within the radius of the funnel. The shower, of course, will return you to our time.”

“How long will it take you to make this device?”

“I am not sure. With the First Law priority, I can devote all my time to it. However, this is a new invention. It could take only a day or so, but unforeseen problems may extend the time. And you realize that you will be the experimental subject. If it fails, you will only learn of the failure when you are trapped in the past.”

“I understand. The First Law supersedes the Third in this matter; I will have to take the risk.” Hunter thought a moment. “I believe that a team of humans to accompany me would be wise. If the trip is very risky, however, the First Law will not let me take them.”

“Once I have made this device, I can estimate how risky it is,” said Ishihara. “If you are agreeable, I will begin gathering further data and materials at once.”

“Yes, of course. If you have a problem gathering equipment, contact me directly. I have been given unusual authority with the city computer, and I can requisition materials with emergency priority. I am going to visit MC Governor’s office.”

Hunter checked his internal map of Mojave Center again to find MC Governor’s office. Once he had started on his way, he used his radio link with the city computer to access a nationwide list of professionals in various fields. Planetwide and interplanetary lists were also available, but time was important, so the closer he could find willing experts, the sooner they were likely to arrive.

First Hunter had the computer combine the lists, then identify candidates by their fields, availability, and conditions of employment. His first choice was a roboticist at the University of Michigan. She was a young woman named Jane Maynard, who was looking for field research regarding robots. The second was Chad Mora, a young paleontologist whose recent degree had not yet led to any work. Hunter had made these selections by the time he arrived at the office.

When he reached MC Governor’s office, he found the door locked, but ordered the city computer to open it. Inside, he immediately realized that the office had never been intended for regular use. The walls were bare and the only furniture was a chair and a desk with nothing on it. Still, a quick look at the city computer’s architectural image of the office identified all the functional areas. By this time, Hunter was eager to hire his team as soon as possible.

“Computer,” Hunter ordered. “Reach any member of the Governor Robot Oversight Committee. Give that member this request for employment in my project.” He sat down in the chair to wait, aware that humans were sometimes out of touch, unlike those robots who carried their communication devices as part of their design.

“Hunter? R. Ishihara here.” He was radioing directly.

“Yes, Ishihara.”

“I have a list of highly sophisticated technical parts that I need to build the device that will bring you back from the past. The city computer reports that all the parts are present in the city, but a number of them are already in use.”

“Are they in crucial areas involving the First Law?”

“I believe that all of them can be successfully substituted or temporarily discontinued without creating a First Law problem,” said Ishihara. “However, I am not certain.”

“Give me the list.”

Ishihara did so.

“I will contact the city computer. If there is a further problem, I will have it locate and purchase the parts elsewhere.” Hunter broke that connection and contacted the city computer again.

“Please give top priority transfer to R. Ishihara of the following list of parts. If necessary, remove them from current operating locations.” Hunter transferred the list. “Verify that none of these is in irreplaceable positions under the First Law.”

“Verified,” said the computer. “All parts can be provided. Many are in inventory. Of the remainder, substitution and removal from current operating locations can begin immediately.”

“Begin transfer of the parts to R. Ishihara as soon as possible.”

6

WHILE HUNTER WAITED, he studied the Late Cretaceous Period in what was now Alberta, Canada, the place where MC Governor had gone. He also reviewed his data on MC Governor’s disappearance. During this review he noticed that Dr. Nystrom, the inventor of the Governor robots, had spoken to the committee from Mojave Center shortly after MC Governor’s disappearance; apparently he had lost his temper and discontinued the call abruptly. The committee had already judged that Dr. Nystrom knew nothing of value about the mystery. Still, Hunter ordered the city computer to page Dr. Nystrom.

Then, having nothing else to do, he shut down most of his system to save energy. He left open only his communication links. Just under three hours later, the city computer contacted him again.

“R. Hunter, you have a call from Dr. Redfield.”

“Accepted.” Hunter instantly returned to normal operating level. “Hello, Dr. Redfield.”

“Hi! Good news, Hunter.” She smiled brightly. “Our funding was good enough to hire the two people you wanted. They’re on their way.”

“Very good. I have made some limited progress here. Can you give me an expected time of arrival?”

“The city computer has their charter information. If I remember right, they’re due on the same flight tomorrow morning. You can call them at home or in flight if you need earlier contact.”

“I doubt that will be necessary.”

She smiled wryly. “Both of them were willing to join the project, but we had to pay a number of unusual expenses for them to leave home that soon. They will also need briefing when they arrive.”

“That will not take long. The information they will need is minimal.”

“Hunter …” Dr. Redfield hesitated. “The committee assigned you to the job in all confidence, and we still have that. And we all realize that a roboticist might be necessary in your work. But I’ve been wondering —”

“Yes?”

“Are you sure you need a paleontologist?”

Hunter, with his robotic speed, considered his answer carefully. He could see that this was a reasonable question, but he did not want to report any more details of his search for MC Governor than necessary. Setting a precedent of that sort could become a distraction in the future.

“Yes,” he said simply.

Steve Chang sat on a rock in front of his four-meter-square shack on the slope of an unnamed mountain. It was one of a ridge of mountains that ran across the southern edge of the valley in the high desert below him. In the distance the waning red rays of twilight glinted off the solar collectors and water pipes that led down into the new underground city.

With mild curiosity, he had watched it under construction. Robots driving large machinery had dug out a huge hole and then built a big cube inside it with patient but inexorable energy. As long as they didn’t bother him up here, he didn’t care what they did.

This evening he was sorting some new rocks he had gathered during the last few days in a big yellow bucket. He tossed the white quartz into one large pile on his left. The blue-green rocks went to his right. Someday, when he got around to it, he would sit down at the computer inside his shack and access a library to find out what kind of rock the blue-green ones were. They probably bore copper, but he didn’t really care. He collected them because he liked them.

For the last several minutes, however, he had also been watching a small helicopter down on the pad next to the underground city. Flights came and went occasionally, but this one was now flying toward the bluff where he sat. That was very rare.

Steve went on sorting rocks as the helicopter buzzed up the slope, skimming the tops of the occasional joshua trees, grease plants, and outcroppings of bare rock. Finally he stopped to watch in astonishment. Now roaring in his ears, the helicopter slowed and came to a gentle landing in a spot of open sand only fifteen meters away.

“They must be lost,” Steve muttered to himself. “Or had a mechanical failure.” He remained seated.

The engine shut off and three figures climbed out of the helicopter. The leader was a tall, brawny, blond, blue-eyed guy with heroic leading man looks. A pretty young woman walked behind him, holding her long brown hair out of her face as it was blown by the still-spinning propeller. Another young man of average height and weight came last.

All three of them wore new, stylish clothes. Steve was wearing his usual short sleeved western shirt, worn blue jeans, and beat-up cowboy boots. Up on this bluff, though, they were the ones who looked out of place.

“I am R. Hunter,” said the blond leader. “You are Steve Chang, I believe.”

“How would you know that?” Steve demanded.

Hunter looked startled at his rudeness. “I have a dossier with your portrait on my internal video. My companions are Jane Maynard, roboticist, and Chad Mora, paleontologist.”

“Yeah?” Steve ignored them. “What do you want?”

“I need your help,” said Hunter. “I came to offer you employment.”

“Looks like you could use a little money,” said Chad, grinning. “I didn’t think people still lived like this.”

“If I wanted a job, I wouldn’t be here,” growled Steve. “I own this plot of land and you came uninvited. Go away.”

Hunter turned and started to walk back to the helicopter. Steve grinned. He had expected more of an argument, but of course, under the Second Law, a robot had to obey a direct order to leave.

“Wait a minute,” said Jane to Hunter. The robot hesitated, now at least able to make some interpretations of his own. “Steve, I just want to know if it’s really true that you can mountain climb, camp, rock climb, canoe … all the outdoor activities Hunter told us about.”

“Yeah. What of it?” Steve asked more mildly, flattered that she was interested.

“Everyone I know is highly specialized and lives in cities. I’ve never met anyone like you before.”

Steve shrugged. “I just happen to like the desert.”

“He’s a real throwback,” sneered Chad.

“Shut up, Chad,” said Jane. “Steve, I’ve never seen a place like yours. Would you show me around?”

Steve knew very well that she was just trying to get on his good side, but he didn’t get much female company up on this ridge. With a reluctant grin, he got to his feet. “There isn’t much to see, but come on in.”

“You have a computer, at least,” said Jane, following him inside. “And electricity.”

“Yeah.” Steve shrugged. “I built the shack with modem insulation because it does get pretty cold up here in the winter. I have an old solar-powered generator and a windmill in the back for additional power.”

“This is basically an office with a bed in it,” said Jane. “Very practical. But where does your water come from?”

“I have five acres of this slope. In the winter, it snows up here, and I have collectors that take the runoff down into an underground tank. I only need about four liters a day, on average, and I have a two thousand liter tank. So that’s more than enough for a year.”

“What if the snowfall is short?” Jane asked.

“I can buy bottled water if necessary, even on a daily basis.” He shrugged casually, but he was really enjoying showing her how he lived.

“Where do you get your money? Odd jobs down in the desert towns?”

“I could do that, but I haven’t had to lately. I use my computer to follow major stock exchanges. I have some money invested, and I make just enough to survive on what I can earn.”

Chad laughed. “Oh, he’s a financial expert, eh?”

Steve felt his face grow hot with anger. “I’m self-sufficient up here. That’s more than most people ever manage.”

“Or want.” Chad rolled his eyes.

“What do you want here?” Steve demanded, glaring at all three of them. “Get to the point or get out.”

“A computer analysis of individuals with certain skills turned up your name,” said Hunter.

“Let me,” Jane interjected. “Steve, the three of us are going on a trip. But we need to hire someone who can take care of our camp and equipment. Hunter suggested taking another robot, but I objected. I think we need a human who can exercise personal judgment without reference to the Laws of Robotics.”

“Exactly what skills are you talking about?” Steve asked suspiciously.

“Camping, fishing, maybe hunting. Possibly hiking or even climbing.” Jane waited patiently, watching him with large, dark eyes.

“My focus was too narrow,” said Hunter. “A flaw in my robotic thinking. When I planned our trip, I forgot to concern myself with the human needs of Chad and Jane.”

“Why don’t you find someone in that underground place you came from?”

“Mojave Center,” said Jane. “The problem is that not very many humans have the skills we need. You do.”

“Mojave Center is still experimental,” said Chad. “The humans living there are all very well educated and specialized. They’re too important to be spared from the skeleton population.”

“Forget it,” said Steve.

“We’re going back in time,” Jane said suddenly. “Something no human has ever done before.”

“What?”

“To the Late Cretaceous Period,” said Hunter. “That’s why I need a paleontologist, such as Chad.”

“Back in time?” Steve stared at Hunter, his hands tingling with excitement. He hated the kind of routine life led by people in cities, but a real adventure fascinated him. “Why are you going back in time? Just to see if you can do it?”

“No,” said Hunter. “If you join us, I’ll brief you fully. For now, I will say only that a robot has preceded us on this trip. We must return him to the present time.”

Steve shook his head slowly, looking at Hunter in amazement. “A robot has already made the trip, huh?”

“I know you may find this trip hard to believe,” said Hunter, who seemed to mistake his excitement for fear. “So I must tell you that I am authorized to hire you at the same fee I will pay Chad and Jane, who are highly specialized professionals in their fields.”

“Are you serious?” Chad turned to Hunter in shock. “You’re going to pay him as much as you pay me?”

Steve grinned at his outrage. “Sure, I’ll take the job. When do we leave?”

“Now,” said Hunter. “All necessary clothes, personal articles, and equipment will be provided in Mojave Center.”

“Now?” Steve glanced around his shack. “Well …”

“What’s wrong?” Chad demanded. “Afraid somebody will come by and trash your mansion?”

“It’s still my place,” Steve growled.

“Hunter,” said Jane, “security is a realistic concern if he leaves his home unattended.”

“I will assign a Security robot from Mojave Center to remain here while you are gone,” said Hunter. “Since we will be coming back only a minute or so after we leave, the only significant period of time involved will be the time we spend in Mojave Center getting ready. Will that be acceptable?”

“Uh, fine,” said Steve. “Give me just a minute to turn off everything.”

“I will start up the helicopter,” said Hunter.

Chad followed him away from the shack. Jane hesitated, watching Steve shut off the power to various appliances. When he glanced up at her, she smiled.

“We’re going back in time,” Steve mused to himself. “Hard to believe.”

Steve enjoyed the brief helicopter ride, looking out over the desert from an even greater altitude than he normally could. When they took the angled tube down into Mojave Center, however, he began to feel closed in. The carefully processed air seemed humid and chilly to him after living in the natural desert climate.

“I will either have to requisition what we need,” said Hunter, “or arrange through the city computer to acquire it or have it made. But, Steve, I need a list from you of what you humans will need to survive.”

“Well, food, of course —”

“That part I understand. I can arrange basic, balanced nutrition in packaged form. What about clothing and shelter for living in the wild?”

“Not so fast,” said Steve. “What about food preparation? Some of it will need cooking. We’ll need containers, utensils, and a way to clean them all.”

“I understand. Keep going. I am recording as you speak,” said Hunter.

“Where are we going?”

“Roughly, allowing for major geological changes, we will be in Alberta, Canada.”

“Alberta! Then we’ll need to keep warm if it’s winter. What time of year?”

“Summer,” said Hunter. “But the region that is now Alberta was farther south at that time — closer to the equator. The climate was totally different.”

“All right, then what kind of climate will it have?”

“Warm and humid,” said Hunter. “Forest, marsh, maybe some open country. I cannot be more specific than that.”

“Then layered clothing is important,” said Steve. “So that we can put on or take off whatever is necessary. Boots for all of us. A sturdy tent to keep off rain and to stand up to wind. A portable solar-powered generator for heat, cooking, power tools —”

“Not acceptable,” said Hunter.

“Why not?” Steve looked up at him in surprise.

“All our equipment will have to be as primitive as possible. We will use everything that we can get in biodegradable form. We have to be very careful to leave as small an impact in the past as we can. If we do leave anything behind, it must decompose as fast as possible.”

“I see,” said Steve. “Well, then. Extra rope and knives. An axe and a small hatchet to cut wood.” Steve continued to list the essential items, now relying strictly on simple hand tools and materials.

After Steve had completed his general list, Chad and Jane added their personal articles. By the time they had finished their various requests, they had ridden a lift down to an immense hallway labeled Antelope Valley Boulevard. Steve looked around, uncomfortable yet still curious to see whatever he could.

“We will go to MC Governor’s office,” said Hunter. “We’ll use it as a rendezvous point.”

“Are we separating?” Jane looked at him in surprise.

“Yes. I have arranged through the city computer for Steve to spend tonight in the same hotel you two are using. I am going to spend the night supervising gathering the equipment and checking it over. The First Law will not let me go until I have reviewed everything that you three will need.”

“It’s still fairly early for us,” said Jane. “We can have a leisurely dinner,” said Chad. “I’m hungry enough. That is, if Steve here eats his food cooked.”

“Sure,” said Steve. “And you had better enjoy tonight’s dinner. After we’re on our way, you’ll have to eat the same way I do.”

7

WHILE THE HUMANS ate dinner, Hunter found his way to the storage and manufacturing centers of the city. On his way, he had the city computer introduce him to the supervisory robots through their comlinks to save time. He spent several hours waiting for the clothing and equipment to be assembled.

Once he had given the supervisory robots a top priority order, they left only a small staff on necessary operations and assigned the remainder to Hunter’s unusual requests. By the time he had finished gathering everything to his satisfaction, Jane had called him from the hotel to say that the three humans were retiring for the night.

Hunter spent the rest of the night inspecting the gear and packing it into bundles. With his robotic strength, he could carry the greatest amount of it in a large backpack without a problem. Steve would carry another pack with the remainder. Chad and Jane would be burdened only with small packs in which their immediate needs were stored. He wanted them to be as free as possible to concentrate on their basic task, helping him catch MC Governor.

In the morning, Hunter sent a Security robot to pick up the humans when they had finished breakfast. Meanwhile, he went directly to the Bohung Institute. In Room F-12, with the help of Ishihara, he disabled the miniaturization system. Then he instructed Ishihara to wait outside the room and prevent any unauthorized robots or humans from entering until further notice. Hunter was ready for the humans when they arrived.

“We briefed Steve last night,” said Jane. “About MC Governor going microscopic and fleeing back in time, not realizing that the miniaturization is temporary. We discussed it after dinner while we walked around the city seeing the sights.”

“His part is simple enough,” said Chad. “He does the camping. We’ll find MC Governor.”

Steve nodded toward the packs. “You got everything, then, Hunter?”

“Everything on my list,” said Hunter. “Do any of you have any late additions?”

No one did.

“All right,” said Hunter. “I have a khaki, biodegradable worksuit, like the one I am wearing, for each of you. They have plenty of pockets for your personal items. Change in the next room if you prefer.”

The three humans took turns changing their clothes and returned. All of them looked down at themselves and at each other with self-conscious grins. Their worksuits fit perfectly, of course.

“One final briefing,” said Hunter. “Are you familiar with chaos theory as applied to history?”

“As a paleontologist, yes,” said Chad.

“I haven’t heard it actually discussed,” said Jane. “I think I can see how it would be applied.”

“What kind of theory?” Steve asked.

Chad laughed.

Hunter ignored him. “According to traditional chaos theory, chaotic systems are irreversible-events cause a sequence of ongoing effects similar to ripples in water after a splash. No one can stop them.”

“Wouldn’t that make time travel impossible?” Steve asked cautiously.

“Oh, now he’s a physicist,” Chad sneered.

Hunter ignored that, too. “Theoretically, yes. If we can go back in time by using the machinery in this room, however, we will be proving an uncertainty principle in this theory that has existed for a long time. Our own problem, however, is this: any actions MC Governor takes, particularly after he returns to normal size, may cause ripples in events, ripples that will be huge by the time they reach the present. I must find him to prevent him from harming every human who has ever lived.”

“That part sounds easy enough to understand,” said Steve. “That’s why we’re chasing him in the first place.”

“But once we are back in time, we have the same problem. Anything we do could cause ripples — we have to make as few changes of note as possible.” Hunter looked each one of them in the eye, in turn. “Do you understand how critical this point is? We must return with all of our equipment. In every way, we have to have as little influence on our environment as possible. Understood?”

Steve and Jane nodded.

“Our very presence is going to create some changes,” said Chad. “We’ll consume oxygen and exhale carbon dioxide, give off body heat, step on the grass. We can’t avoid making some changes. Let’s not kid ourselves, Hunter.”

“We are not,” said Hunter. “No one knows where the line is drawn between actions that the time line will absorb and what will make permanent changes.”

An uncomfortable silence followed.

“Are we following MC Governor to the exact moment he went to?” Jane asked. “How long will we be there before he returns to normal size?”

“Within twenty-four hours,” said Hunter. “We will not follow him to the direct moment. I have calculated how long the miniaturization is likely to last. We will be landing as close to the moment it ends as I can calculate. Also, we will be moving geographically, with the movement of the planet. That was part of MC Governor’s calculation, which I’ve duplicated.”

“Sounds good to me,” said Chad.

“Time to go,” said Hunter. He pushed a button on the control panel that opened the big sphere. “Everyone climb in. When you are comfortable, I will place the gear in around you and get in myself.”

As the others entered, Hunter punched instructions into the control panel. Its timer was already running by the time he joined them and sealed the hatch behind him. The quartet was crowded, and since the bottom of the sphere was curved, everyone and everything slid together. In a moment, however, a quiet hum sounded outside the sphere. No one moved.

Suddenly sunlight replaced the darkness as the sphere vanished. In the next instant, Hunter felt himself fall seventeen centimeters, landing on soft soil with a thump. He turned to see if the humans were hurt. No one seemed to be.

All of them were looking around in amazement. They were outside, of course, sitting among their scattered packs. Most of their surroundings were forested, but beyond the canopy of trees, the sky was blue and the sun bright.

Hunter inhaled deeply, and his internal sensors analyzed the content of the air. It was not extremely different from what he had experienced before, except for somewhat less methane and, of course, no industrial pollutants of any kind, even in trace amounts. The air was far more humid than that of the desert, or even of the controlled atmosphere in Mojave Center. By these initial data, he judged that they had apparently arrived at their destination.

“A primeval forest,” Jane said in awe. She looked around slowly in all directions. “It’s the real thing. We’re actually here.”

“Better not get hurt,” said Chad. “It’s a long way to a hospital — millions of years.”

Steve got to his feet, also glancing around. “It’s afternoon already.”

“What of it?” Chad demanded, also getting up. “We have hours of daylight left.”

“It may take hours to find a natural source of water and a safe place to camp.”

“We have water,” said Hunter. “As much as we can carry, in these containers. Rationed, it will last us a couple of days.”

“You hired me to handle this kind of thing,” Steve said hotly. “What if it takes us days to find water? Back home, we could chew leaves for the moisture if necessary — but here we don’t know which plants might be poisonous to us.”

“You’re getting ahead of yourself, hotshot,” said Chad. ‘We have to find a robot. If we find him soon, we can just go right home. Suppose you let us handle the scheduling.”

“Then I’ll look for water alone!” Steve turned and stomped away through the trees. In the dense forest, he was out of sight quickly.

Hunter, watching him in some alarm, turned up his aural sensitivity. He did not hear the sound of any particularly large, heavy footsteps that threatened immediate danger. “Be extremely careful, please,” he called after Steve.

“The First Law requires that I protect all of you,” Hunter said to Chad and Jane. “But Steve may have a point. I hired him to take care of your human needs, and water is an obvious one.”

“Let’s make our plans,” said Jane. “If we’re lucky, we can catch MC Governor without having to camp out here.”

“All right,” said Hunter. “I have calculated the radius of the circle within which MC Governor can probably be found.”

“He may have had no reason to go anywhere,” said Jane, looking down at her feet. “We could be standing on him.”

“At his size, he would sustain no damage if we were,” said Hunter. He stepped back. Carefully measuring the distance from the center of their landing point, he paced off a line into the trees. He was out of sight for a moment, then quickly returned. “I have marked a radius of 15.4 meters. Our visibility here is about twelve meters.”

“How are you going to mark it?” Chad asked. “Blaze the trees?”

“No,” said Hunter. “Unnecessary damage to tree trunks is the kind of action we must avoid. I am going to walk around the perimeter of the area. Watch me to see if I am out of sight for very long.”

When Hunter had finished his circle, making minor adjustments to avoid natural obstacles, he turned to Jane. “How is the visibility?”

“Not too good,” said Jane. “This circle is what, about thirty meters across?”

“Approximately, yes.”

“I’d say the average visibility here is only twelve meters, maybe twenty in spots,” said Chad.

“Then we may have to rely on hearing MC Governor’s footsteps and movements through the forest when he returns to full size,” said Hunter. “We may or may not be able to see him.”

“When we do see him or hear him,” said Chad, “how do we catch him?”

“The First and Second Laws of Robotics,” said Jane. “If MC Governor believes that a human is in danger, then he will have to stop to help under the First Law. If he is within hearing of a human voice, he can be ordered to stop and cooperate. Hunter alone, of course, can’t use the Laws against him, being a robot himself.”

“I get the picture,” said Chad.

“We must set a trap for MC Governor,” said Hunter. “One that uses the Laws of Robotics on him, but not on me.”

“Can we discuss it here, just like that?” Chad looked down at the ground. “I know he’s microscopic, but can’t he still hear us?”

“No,” said Jane. “His aural sensitivity is still strong, but with the difference in the size of his sensors, the sound of our voices will be too heavily distorted for him to understand. He won’t even realize that human voices are speaking. His current existence has more immediate threats from microbes. The Third Law will force him to focus all his sensors on sights and sounds that signify danger on his level. He has no reason to expect human voices here, anyway.”

“I accept your judgment,” said Hunter. “That is why I wanted a roboticist along, after all.”

“I’m convinced,” said Chad. “So what kind of trap are you talking about?”

“One with a dinosaur or two,” said Hunter. “I want you to choose one that will look dangerous to MC Governor, but is actually herbivorous and not too large. If a meat-eater approaches any of you humans, the First Law will force me to intervene.”

“All right,” said Chad, sliding his belt computer free. “I’ll see what’s likely to be around here. Some of the herbivores might attack if they feel endangered, or stampede over someone if they’re scared. Their choice of diet is not the only threat they can present.”

“Excellent point,” said Hunter. “Go ahead with your research and then we will discuss the choices.”

Steve hurried away from the others angrily, impatient with their carelessness. He did a lot of hiking in the desert and knew that nature, unlike robots, was indifferent to human needs. Humans needed water, shelter, and latrines in their camp as soon as possible.

“Besides,” he said to himself, “if Hunter doesn’t want my advice, why is he paying me to be here?”

He found the footing difficult in the dense forest. Small animals rustled through the leaves of trees and in the underbrush. The few he was able to glimpse looked a lot like the reptiles he had seen in the Mojave Desert, though not exactly. Soon he was sweating.

“My body’s not used to this humidity,” he told himself. “Better slow down.”

Wiping sweat from his eyes with his forearm, he turned around, checking for landmarks. That was routine on his hikes through unfamiliar areas. Here, the trees and bushes offered much more variety than the scrub on the barren, rocky bluffs and open desert where he usually explored. He noted the appearance of a particularly large, crooked tree trunk with low-hanging branches and then turned around to look forward again.

“All right,” he said to himself quietly. In the desert, water was in the water table under the valley floor. Residents gathered water from snow melt and some, times from mountain springs. Natural water attracted birds. He could see them from a long way off in open country. That wouldn’t work here, where birds were in every tree. He couldn’t see the sky anyway.

The ground was rough and uneven, but it generally sloped away from the group’s landing point. Steve shrugged and picked his way in that direction. “Water flows downhill.”

Steve hiked through the forest for what seemed like a long time. He was aware, however, that moving through strange territory always seemed to take longer than it really did. Carefully keeping track of his trail, he pushed on through the forest. Still, he found no water.

He was just stepping over the large, angled, trunk of a fallen tree when a large motion ahead made him freeze. Through the leaves and branches straight ahead, he saw a large dinosaur clearly for the first time.

At first, all he could see was a long, narrow neck and a small head — but the head was nearly two meters off the ground. It had large eyes and a rough, horny beak. The shape of the head and beak together resembled that of a goose. The dinosaur was dark green, giving it camouflage in the forest. As Steve watched, it leaned forward, peering at a dead branch on a tree that was still standing.

Steve had once been very excited to find a rock with a fossil of some sort of tiny fish. That had been nothing compared to seeing a living dinosaur. He crept forward, taking care to keep his footsteps quiet.

The dinosaur dipped its head, looking closely at the dead branch. Steve eased between a couple of bushes, planting his feet softly, and slipped behind a thick tree trunk. Then he peered around it slowly.

The dinosaur was raking at the dead branch with long claws on the ends of long fingers. As it ripped away chunks of dead wood, swarms of crawling insects were exposed. It flicked its tongue at them, licking them up quickly. Now Steve could see that it stood on two long legs, with heavy hindquarters and a meter-long tail.

“Wow,” he whispered to himself.

8

“WHAT HAVE YOU found?” Hunter asked Chad. Hunter was still standing, though Chad and Jane had both found seats on the ground where they could lean against tree trunks. Chad had been calling up various lists of dinosaurs on his belt computer.

“North America was full of dinosaurs in the Late Cretaceous Period.” Chad frowned at the little screen on his belt computer. “I think this one might be a good recommendation for our trap.”

“What is it?” Jane asked.

“Stegoceras,” said Chad. “Common in this time and place. It will look fairly dangerous, because it has a heavy, spiked dome on its head. However, it was — is, I mean — an herbivore, and it’s only a couple of meters long and half a meter high, so it won’t pose an extreme danger.”

“Does it look like a goat?” Jane asked.

“No. Look at the line drawing here on the screen.” Chad handed the belt computer to her. “See, it runs on two legs. It looks more like a goat-sized duck wearing a bowl on its head.” He grinned.

“You’re right.” Jane laughed. “But it does look like it could ram you if it were mad.”

“Strictly an herbivore?” Hunter moved to look over her shoulder. “Not an omnivore that might decide to try a couple of large mammals for lunch on a whim?”

“Herbivore,” said Chad.

“I think I can accept this,” said Hunter. “My robotic strength should be more than a match for its strength if it chose to attack a human. So under these controlled circumstances, my interpretation of the First Law will allow us to use a stegoceras.”

“In that case,” said Chad, “we have to catch one.” He clipped the belt computer back on and got up. “Any idea where our safari guide went?”

“I turned up my hearing sensitivity when he left,” said Hunter. “I have been listening. He is still slowly moving away from us westward. I would say that he is safe.” Hunter opened one of the packs and drew out two coils of rope. He tossed one to Chad.

Chad looked at the coil of rope in his hand and started tying a loop in one end. “Isn’t Steve supposed to do the physical labor around here?”

“Steve is looking for water,” said Jane. “That’s also a duty of his.”

“I will use my enhanced hearing to pick out footsteps that are not Steve’s,” said Hunter, also tying a lasso. “Chad, you can help me identify what species of dinosaur we find. Then the two of us will have to rope him.”

“You have another rope?” Jane asked. ‘‘I’ll try it, too.”

“All right.” Hunter took out another and threw it to her. “But your first duty as roboticist is MC Governor. I want you to stay within sight of the perimeter in case he appears here soon. If you can lasso a stegoceras, go ahead.”

“Thanks a lot,” Jane said, laughing. “That’s what I get for going into robotics, huh?”

“If you see him, or anticipate any danger, yell for me,” said Hunter. He hesitated, then pointed behind Chad, to the north. “This forest is teeming with animals of all kinds, many of them two-legged and roughly the right size, allowing for individual variation. But I hear one likely prospect fairly close in that direction.”

“Let’s go see,” said Chad.

“The First Law requires me to go first,” said Hunter. “Stay close and move quietly.”

Chad nodded.

Hunter moved forward, studying the ground with magnified vision in order to place his feet in the spots that would make the least noise. At the same time, his enhanced hearing told him that a two-legged dinosaur was moving very slowly only about twelve meters ahead. The footsteps were gentle and infrequent, meaning that the dinosaur was not really going anywhere. Hunter guessed that the creature was feeding on leaves or perhaps avoiding a carnivore.

Chad, right behind him, was not nearly as quiet. Still, since their quarry was not fleeing, Hunter concluded that the paleontologist was handling himself well enough. Hunter had to move around a thicket and then a couple of very large, heavily branched trees. By the sounds of movement, the dinosaur was soon only about two meters ahead, standing still.

Hunter moved to one side and waved for Chad to come up next to him. Then Hunter pointed soundlessly through the dense forest cover. All they could see at this point was the long, green, angled slope of the creature’s back. Its head was down low, behind the brush.

“It’s too big,” said Chad softly. “I don’t think that’s a — look out!”

Suddenly the dinosaur leapt through the bushes at them, flashing rows of long fangs.

Now, thinking in nanoseconds, Hunter could see his mistake. The basic shape of this dinosaur was the same as that of the stegoceras, but it was larger than he had judged by the sound of its footsteps. The long, blunt snout was filled with sharp teeth, incisors instead of molars. Its forearms ended in three-fingered hands with long claws. In short, this was a carnivorous predator. Its lack of movement had not signified feeding or hiding, but that it was lying in wait for the two of them.,

Chad spun around, ducked, and threw himself to the ground. Driven by the First Law to protect him, Hunter threw his lasso over the long snout and narrow head of the dinosaur and yanked it tight. He braced his feet against the ground and pulled with all the robotic strength in his body. The dinosaur fell heavily to one side, crushing a small tree under it. Now Hunter could see that the dinosaur, when standing, was about a meter and a half high, much bigger than a stegoceras.

“Run!” Hunter shouted to Chad, who scrambled up and took off. “Warn Jane! Climb a tree!”

The lassoed dinosaur had scrambled to its thick, powerful hind legs. It ran at Hunter, teeth bared again, its long claws raking the air. Hunter, with the advantage of robotic reflexes, dodged to his right, cocking his right arm. As the dinosaur closed on him, he slipped farther to the side and slammed his fist against the side of the creature’s head.

The power of the blow knocked the dinosaur’s head to one side. It stumbled, shifting around to face Hunter again. Hunter leapt as high as he could, grasping a branch just thick enough to bear his weight. As the dinosaur lunged, he swung up over it and pulled himself high enough to reach another branch.

Hunter had been able to see from the dinosaur’s body that it was a runner, not a climber. The creature’s long, slender legs had some leaping ability, which it now used futilely. Its jaws snapped below Hunter’s dangling feet and its short, skinny forearms were not long enough to reach up very high at all. Then it eyed him angrily and stopped to watch him, twitching its long, heavy tail.

Even now, Hunter was still holding the end of the rope. He began pulling. If he could hoist the dinosaur off the ground, it would be helpless.

Soon the rope was taut and the dinosaur began pulling back. Now, however, it had its strong legs braced on the ground and it began to walk backward slowly. By contrast, Hunter could not pull too hard for fear of losing his balance in the tree and falling out.

For a long moment, the robot and the dinosaur were at a stalemate. Then, suddenly, the rope snapped. Hunter caught his balance in the branches, still holding most of the rope.

The dinosaur, with the loop of the lasso around its neck and only a short, broken end of rope dangling from it, showed its teeth and moved around the base of the tree.

Even from his high vantage point, Hunter could not see Chad. However, he could hear the paleontologist frantically yelling for Jane to climb a tree. The dinosaur was not interested in Chad. It was still watching Hunter, not realizing, of course, that a robot was entirely inedible.

“It is still here watching me,” Hunter shouted. “Chad, can you hear me?”

“Yeah, Hunter,” Chad called back. “Jane and I both climbed up a tree by the camp.”

“You are both safe, then?”

“We’re fine,” Jane shouted breathlessly. “But what do we do now?”

“What do you think, Chad?” Hunter asked.

“Just a minute. I’m checking my belt computer.” He was silent for a moment.

Hunter, who had moved to a standing position in the Y of two stout branches, looked down again at the predator. The dinosaur was standing patiently at the base of the tree. Its tail had stopped moving.

“It might be a velociraptor,” Chad called. “That’s a certain predator with the right overall size and body type. I didn’t get a very long look, of course. A lot of bipedal dinosaurs that existed had much the same appearance. That’s why it resembles a stegoceras. The only trouble is, velociraptors have only been found in Mongolia. That doesn’t mean they didn’t exist here. It just means we don’t know.”

“How long do you think it is going to stay here?” Hunter shouted.

“I have no idea,” yelled Chad. “That kind of behavior is too subtle to learn from fossils.”

“I see,” Hunter muttered. “Better get comfortable. Do not even consider climbing down without telling me.”

“No problem,” Jane shouted.

Hunter coiled the rope and slipped it over one shoulder. The patient predator below him had not moved. It was hungry and thought it could outwait its prey.

By Hunter’s internal clock, after forty-two minutes and twelve seconds, the dinosaur finally moved out of sight. Hunter’s enhanced hearing told him, however, that the creature was still nearby, hoping that Hunter would come down out of the tree. Another one hour and seventeen minutes passed before the dinosaur actually gave up and wandered away a substantial distance.

At this point, Hunter decided he could risk returning to the ground under the Third Law, but he still wanted to find out if the dinosaur would return before he was willing to tell Chad and Jane to come down. Still listening for the predator’s footsteps, he dropped to the ground and quickly hiked back to the landing site. There he found the two of them about three and a half meters up in a tree, sitting uncomfortably.

“My hearing tells me the predator is gone,” said Hunter. “I will move you to the ground.”

They both began a careful descent. In a few minutes, Hunter had lifted Jane down safely and was just lifting Chad out of the tree when he heard an unusual noise. He set Chad down and turned to focus his attention. Two bipeds were running quickly in their direction through the underbrush; by their footsteps, Hunter knew that one was Steve.

“Hunter!” Steve yelled. “Hunter, look out!”

Instantly, Hunter lifted Chad back into the tree. As Steve raced toward them, Hunter raised Jane again also. Steve finally came into view, stumbling over a tree branch and staggering forward as he regained his balance.

“Over here!” Hunter ordered. “What is it?”

Steve was too out of breath to speak. Hunter did not have time to lift him before a dinosaur the size of a large dog charged out of the brush. Steve dodged behind the tree trunk.

In the same moment Hunter braced himself to fight off the dinosaur. It was much smaller than the velociraptor. In fact, by its size and the hard dome on its head, he quickly recognized that this was a stegoceras.

Hunter immediately revised his tactics. This was the herbivore that they wanted to use to trap MC Governor. He wanted to capture this stegoceras if he could.

The stegoceras darted around Hunter, but he shifted to block it. Then the stegoceras stopped to look him over. Hunter slowly slipped the coil of rope from his shoulder and tied a loop on one end.

“Hey, Chad!” Steve gasped, between breaths. “Give me your rope. Drop it down here.”

“All right. Here!”

As Hunter prepared to lasso the stegoceras, he heard the rope drop behind him. A moment later, Steve came up on the other side of the stegoceras with a newly-tied lasso. The small dinosaur hesitated, aware that it now had two enemies, neither of which was running away.

“Let me go first,” said Hunter. “I cannot let you take an unnecessary risk.”

“I can follow your lead,” said Steve.

Hunter nodded. “Get ready to throw. I am going to move up on this side and try to lasso it. If it dodges your way, maybe you can surprise it.”

“Ready,” said Steve.

Hunter advanced in two slow, precisely measured steps. Then, as the stegoceras glanced toward Steve, Hunter threw his loop. With the distance judged by his careful robotic eye and his throw governed by his exact body motion, the loop dropped over the dinosaur’s head and settled around its neck.

“Got him!” Chad yelled enthusiastically.

Hunter tightened the loop. As the stegoceras reared back, Steve ran forward and lassoed their prey again. Then they pulled their ropes taut, holding the stegoceras in place as it pulled and yanked.

While Hunter had all his attention focused on holding his prey lassoed, his hearing told him of sudden bipedal footsteps behind him, about nine meters away.

“Look!” Jane shouted frantically.

“It’s MC Governor!” Chad yelled. “It must be! What do we do?”

Hunter glanced back over his shoulder. He saw a short, slender human form standing perfectly still, watching him. Then the stranger turned and ran the other way, quickly disappearing into the dense forest cover.

“Stay where you are,” Hunter ordered. He could not release the rope without endangering Steve, so that First Law concern overrode all his other duties. The stegoceras had to be gotten under control before any of them did anything else.

Steve had already backed up to a tall, young tree. He quickly ran the end of his rope around the trunk several times, holding it firmly. Then he tied a simple knot to hold it. “There, Hunter. Do the same with your end. Give it enough slack not to strangle it.”

“Understood.” Hunter backed up to another tree and quickly tied his rope as well.

The stegoceras still jumped and pulled, but it was tied firmly now.

“How about getting us down?” Jane called.

9

HUNTER QUICKLY LIFTED both Jane and Chad to the ground again. Chad, in particular, studied the stegoceras with interest. He unhooked his belt computer and started entering observations about it in a quick, quiet voice.

Hunter turned up his visual and aural sensitivity in order to continue tracking the fugitive robot. Their fugitive was already gone in the dense forest. Near Hunter, Steve wiped sweat from his face on his sleeve and looked over their still-struggling catch.

“Do you know where the robot went?” Jane asked Hunter, after watching him for a moment.

“Only a short distance. I tracked him with my hearing at first, but now his footsteps are silent. That probably means he is hiding nearby, listening to our conversation.”

“Maybe,” said Jane. “Or he may have found a very quiet way to keep moving. His arm strength might allow him to swing carefully from one tree branch to another, for instance.”

“I would probably hear that,” said Hunter.

“MC Governor got here too soon for the trap,” said Chad, turning away from the stegoceras. “We weren’t quite ready for him yet.”

“Yes,” said Hunter. “He correctly judged that no threat of harm existed here that I did not have under control. So he was free to flee.”

“Well?” Steve demanded. “Hunter, aren’t we going to chase him or something? Let’s go after him.”

“I do not believe he has fled very far,” said Hunter. “But if I pursue him, he will run. You three cannot keep up.”

“Can we try it?” Steve pleaded. “This is what we came for.”

“I will not lead you barging through this forest recklessly — especially this late in the day. MC Governor will still have to respond to the Laws. Inducing him to come to us is a safer tactic for you humans than running around after him.”

Steve sighed. “All right. I’ll let the stegoceras go.”

“Not so fast!” Chad stepped up quickly. “First I want to record as much description of him as I can.”

“He’s all yours.”

Chad eyed the dinosaur and began muttering observations into his belt computer.

“Something else is wrong,” said Jane. “That wasn’t a Governor robot. It was one of the six component robots that combine to create a Governor.”

“I noticed that the footsteps were unexpectedly light,” said Hunter. “It was gone before I had a chance to turn and see it myself.”

“Do you have any information that can tell us if he split here or back in our own time?”

Hunter reviewed his data. “No. That is, nothing conclusive, anyway.”

“So we don’t know if we’re looking for six robots here,” said Jane. “The others may also have separated, or they may still be together.”

“If so, they’re apparently still microscopic,” said Steve. “They might also appear any time. Right?”

“Now he’s a roboticist,” Chad sneered, looking up from the stegoceras.

“I didn’t see you accomplish anything,” said Steve. “When I got back here, you were hiding in a tree.”

Jane stifled a laugh.

“Until further notice,” said Hunter, “we will focus our project on the robot who we know has reached full size. If the others are here and still microscopic, they will appear sooner or later on this spot.”

“If we aren’t going to run after that robot, is there any objection if I make camp?” Steve squinted through the treetops at the sun. “Assuming you want shelter for the night, and maybe hot food.”

“Did you find water?” Hunter asked.

“Yeah. A small, clear stream about a ten minute hike from here.”

“That’s not too far,” said Chad.

“It will be, hauling water,” said Steve. “Especially stepping over all the fallen logs and around all the heavy brush. Suppose we make camp by the water.”

“Unacceptable,” said Hunter. “If more component robots reach full size, they will do so here. While we concentrate our search on the known fugitive, we should also be prepared to see if the others appear. For now, that will be sufficient attention to them. I will carry water if necessary.”

“It will be.” Steve shrugged and started opening up their supplies.

Chad continued walking around the stegoceras and speaking into his belt computer.

Hunter opened his radio link and transmitted. “This is R. Hunter, in the employ of the Governor Robot Oversight Committee. Respond, Mojave Center Governor component robot. We must discuss the danger to humans in the future.” Then, as he waited for an answer, he explained to Jane what he was doing.

“Any answer?”

“Not yet,” said Hunter. “Do you think he will answer?”

“Hard to say. From his point of view, you are introducing a rather vague First Law concern. It will be open to his interpretation.”

“In what way?”

“If he feels that his own danger from us is more immediate than the theoretical danger he poses to humans in the future, then he may have the freedom of choice not to answer you.”

“As a robot, I cannot give him a Second Law instruction,” said Hunter. “But I suspect that he — I will call him MC 1 — may have shut down his radio link to avoid receiving any transmission from me that might compel him to cooperate with us under the Laws of Robotics.”

“I agree. As soon as he saw us, he must have known we were after him. Since the only radio transmission here would come from you or his own partner components, he won’t need it for anything else.”

“That does mean he will not try to coordinate with the others if they are here.”

“True. In fact, he may very well have shut off his aural capability, at least within the sound range of human speech. That way no amount of shouting from us humans can force his obedience under the Second Law.”

“Yes, I understand.” Hunter listened again for some sound of MC 1 in the distance. Any number of large and small animals, presumably dinosaurs, were moving about in the forest within his hearing, but he heard no sounds that he could specifically identify as coming from MC 1.

“We could still try trapping him again,” said Jane. “It simply requires staging a trap in his line of sight.”

“The whole character of our search has to change,” said Hunter. “We have no way of anticipating now where he will be at any given time. So even if we decide to use a trap to catch him, we have to find him first.”

“Do you have a revised plan?”

“Maybe. Our new search has to be based on the fact that MC 1 is no longer miniaturized. My enhanced vision should be able to track him to some degree and my hearing may still reveal something, especially if I can detect a pattern to separate the sounds of his movements from those of dinosaurs.” Hunter walked over to Chad.

The stegoceras was no longer struggling. It was now standing still, glaring suspiciously at all of them, effectively held in place by the two ropes around its neck. Chad was looking at it from several different angles.

“We no longer need it,” said Hunter. “When you have finished gathering your data, we must free it unharmed.”

“I’m finished,” said Chad, nodding his agreement. “This is really exciting, Hunter. I have the first raw data ever gathered from a living dinosaur. In fact, I’ve taped him with the camera built into this belt computer.”

Hunter moved to the nearest rope and untied it from the tree trunk. “Chad, what are the chances that we can actually rope and tame some dinosaurs to ride?”

“Ride?” Chad looked at him in surprise. “Uh — well, I’ll have to think that over.” He sat down on a large rock and consulted his belt computer again.

Hunter held the rope taut as he moved toward the stegoceras. When he reached it, the small dinosaur tried to butt him in the stomach. Hunter ignored the slight collision and released the other loop from its neck. Then he led the stegoceras away from the humans by the first rope.

“I will take him a short distance into the forest before I free him.”

“I’ll walk with you,” said Jane.

As they picked their way through the forest, Hunter kept the stegoceras tightly leashed and away from Jane.

“I’ve been thinking,” said Jane. “You should have a better chance of chasing down MC 1 on your own now.”

“Maybe in the short term,” said Hunter. “If I could catch him quickly.”

“You know you can track him and keep up a pace of hiking and even running after him that we can’t match. Since you’re much bigger than the component robots, you can physically overpower him. You won’t need us humans to give him Second Law instructions. Maybe we should just stay in camp, out of your way.”

“That is one possibility I must consider,” said Hunter, dragging the stubborn stegoceras after him on the rope. “However, the trail of MC 1 could lead me away from camp for a protracted period. I have to consider this environment largely unknown and potentially very harmful.”

“In other words, you don’t want to leave us alone.” Jane ducked under a low-hanging tree branch.

“Not for very long. I cannot. If any of you humans remain in camp, the First Law will not allow me to leave you unsupervised for very long. That means I cannot go off on an open-ended chase. If I can arrange for you to come with me safely, then I can fulfill my First Law obligations to you while we are pursuing MC 1.”

“I see. And if you and MC 1 start a footrace, the rest of us will need mounts to keep up with you.”

“Yes.” Hunter stopped. “I think I can let our friend go now. Please step behind me in case he is still angry.”

“All right.” Jane slipped behind Hunter, giving him some room to maneuver.

Hunter held the dinosaur’s neck firmly in the crook of one arm while he took off the loop. Then he released the little stegoceras and stepped back warily. The dinosaur shook its domed head, glanced at him, and darted away through the thick underbrush. Still, Hunter listened to its footsteps until he was sure that the herbivore had truly lost interest in coming back to ram any of them.

“Gone?” Jane asked.

“Yes.” Hunter turned to start back to camp. “He was too small for anyone to ride.”

They walked back to camp in silence. By the time they arrived, Steve had erected a large, blue-domed tent. He had set up the portable kitchen and also arranged the sleeping bags inside the tent. Chad was leaning back against a tree, still working with his belt computer.

“I think our search for MC 1 may also involve a time limit of sorts,” said Jane thoughtfully.

“A time limit? Of what sort?” Hunter had not been aware of any.

Chad looked up with interest. Steve also stopped working in order to listen.

“The miniaturization and subsequent reversal has almost certainly weakened MC l’s molecular structure, making him much more fragile than normal,” said Jane.

” You think a fight with a dinosaur might destroy him?” Hunter asked.

“Possibly,” said Jane. “But another problem is almost guaranteed.”

“Another problem?”

“In this warm, humid climate, microscopic life must be very active,” said Jane. “As long as MC 1 was microscopic himself, he was defending himself directly from other microbes — possibly even fighting with them under the Third Law. But now he’s too big to do that.”

“So the microbes are going to start interfering with his robotic body?” Hunter asked. “In a way that would not normally occur, without the effects of miniaturization and its subsequent termination?”

“Yes, little by little.”

“I understand. If he falls down unseen here in this forest, he may be impossible to find. At the very best, it will take more sophisticated equipment than we have.”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Wait a minute,” said Steve. “If the robot’s dead, so to speak, then he won’t be actively interfering with history. So we just have to catch the others, right?”

“No,” said Hunter. “I cannot allow him just to remain here. According to chaos theory as applied to history, even his rusting, corroding remains could change some subtle part of human history in the far future.”

“That seems hard to believe,” said Steve.

Chad laughed. “You just don’t understand the general principle of the theory.”

“All right, then,” said Steve. “Suppose you just tell me. How, here in the Late Cretaceous Period, can the body of one nonfunctioning robot possibly matter?”

“You ever hear of the term ‘therapsids’?” Chad demanded with a smirk.

“No,” Steve admitted.

“That word, my ignorant friend, refers to some mammal-like reptiles that lived long before even this period that we’re in now. Generally, they were small, active, rather aggressive carnivores. All true mammals are descended from them — meaning that some of our very own human ancestors are alive right now, in one form or another. You follow me?”

“Yeah.”

Chad grinned and gestured toward the surrounding forest. “All kinds of little critters are roaming around this forest. In fact, though it’s unlikely — who knows? One of the little local monsters might actually be our own very great grandma!” He laughed.

“So what does this have to do with a rusting robot?” Steve demanded.

“So dense.” Chad rolled his eyes. “All right, look. That robot has compound substances in it that are modern industrial creations. They don’t belong in this time. If some of our very distant human ancestors poison themselves trying to eat that stuff, they die early — and maybe they won’t reproduce, or they may have chromosome damage that changes the traits of their offspring. Now do you see how human history could be changed by something like this?”

“Yeah, I guess, but it still sounds pretty farfetched,” said Steve skeptically.

“Yes, statistically it is quite unlikely,” said Hunter. “But not impossible. That is the problem that chaos theory presents me with under the First Law. The degree of probability that MC 1‘s permanent presence may harm all humans is still too great for me to accept.”

Steve just shrugged.

“Chad,” said Hunter. “What do you think about capturing some herbivorous dinosaurs we could ride?”

“Well, from what little information I have, I would say there’s a reasonable chance.”

“Can you recommend some likely species? Some that we can find in this forest?”

“Yes. That is, I can suggest some that appear to be a good size and shape to ride. But the fossil evidence can’t possibly tell me something as subtle as how long a certain species might take for a rider to break.”

“Understood,” said Hunter. “We will be the first to give it a real try.”

“What kind of dinosaurs have you picked?” Steve asked.

“What’s your hurry?” Chad snickered.

Steve stiffened at his tone. “Nobody’s going to break a new mount without equipment. If you want to ride a dinosaur, you — and all of us — will need some kind of stirrups and halter at the very least, preferably a bridle and a saddle if I can rig them up.”

“An excellent point,” said Hunter.

“So,” said Steve, “I need to know the rough size and shape of the heads, necks, and torsos of the dinosaurs you expect us to ride. Then I can start checking our equipment for something we can use.”

“All right,” said Chad, now speaking in a normal tone of voice. “Here, take a look at this screen. Our first choice is going to be the struthiomimus. It kind of resembles an ostrich.”

Steve moved around and looked over his shoulder. “Two meters tall, three and a half meters long, head and neck like an ostrich. Got it.”

10

STEVE EYED THE sunlight that filtered brightly through a few gaps in the canopy of leaves overhead. The sun was low; only an hour or so of daylight was left. He made dinner with the supplies they had brought, using a small, portable electric stove.

The group sat in a circle outside the front of the tent, eating from biodegradable dishes and utensils. Steve, remembering his camping experience, had been thinking ahead. He was determined to show Chad that he knew what he was doing, at least within his own area of responsibility.

“This is going to take longer than you hoped, isn’t it?” Steve asked Hunter, between mouthfuls.

“I believe so,” said Hunter. “If the stegoceras had been under control when MC 1 appeared, I could have given chase at that time. Once he was out of my sight and hearing, though, the moment was past. From that point, a new plan was required.”

“Hunter, we have water for only another twenty-four hours. Our food will last a couple of days if we ration it, but we can stretch it indefinitely if we do some hunting and gathering here in the forest.”

“Why not just go back home for more supplies?” Chad asked. “Now that we have a better idea of conditions here.”

“That presents a problem,” said Hunter. “I have to conduct the time travel myself. The First Law stops me from leaving any of you alone for long and I would not dare leave any humans here without me. On the other hand, if we all go back and then return here, I would have to bring us back only seconds, or maybe minutes, after we left.”

“Why?” Steve asked.

“Otherwise, the additional component robots might spring up from microscopic to normal size while we’re gone and we would miss them, too.”

“So what’s the problem?” Chad shrugged. “You can arrange for us to come back here right after we left, can’t you?”

“I do not dare cut it too close,” said Hunter. “All kinds of theoretical paradoxes are possible in time travel. With a tight margin of error, it is possible that a mistake could bring us back a few seconds before we left, and we would meet ourselves. The potential harm is immense, and the First Law will not even let me consider that.”

“Wait a minute,” said Jane. “You still have to weigh the possible damage we will do to this time period if we start consuming resources.”

“I have been making calculations about that,” said Hunter. “No action is totally without risk, but I think that some careful hunting and gathering of food and water for a day or two will offer the least amount of risk.”

Jane looked up from her dinner at him for a moment. “Are you sure that our eating some fish or reptiles won’t set off a chain of events that totally changes our future? That is what the chaos theory is about, isn’t it?”

“This is ridiculous,” said Steve impatiently. “I can’t believe that catching a couple of fish is going to end the world in our own time. This kind of talk drives me crazy.” He got up and started gathering the empty dishes and cups.

Behind him, Hunter remained calm in the twilight.

“I have to take this possibility seriously,” Hunter said. “However, I feel that consuming a small amount of food will do no more damage than staying here and stepping on the plants, climbing trees, or roping and riding dinosaurs. I do believe that we should catch fish, however, as opposed to dinosaurs or mammalian ancestors.”

“What?” Steve turned around from the portable kitchen equipment. “You mean that eating a fish instead of a little dinosaur the same size might actually make a difference sixty million years from now?”

“The chance of making a significant change is less,” Hunter said patiently.

Steve noticed that even Chad was listening attentively; apparently, this question wasn’t as stupid as some of the others he had asked.

“Fish will continue to be a crucial part of the food chain,” said Hunter. “And many species will continue to evolve. However, they will not playas crucial a role as dinosaurs and mammals will.”

“Since the dinosaurs all die out later anyway,” said Steve, “who cares if we eat a few now?”

“I cannot know particulars,” said Hunter. “I am simply calculating the chances. An individual fish that you catch and eat is less likely to be important than an individual dinosaur or mammalian ancestor.” He looked around at all of them. “If the most extreme form of chaos theory is true, then we have already made serious changes.”

“Well.” Jane smiled. “I wasn’t crazy about eating a lot of giant lizard meat anyway.”

Chad and Steve laughed.

“I will help Steve carry water from the stream,” said Hunter. “We know the water has potentially dangerous microbes in it, so it will have to be boiled before you humans consume it in any form. Also, I will have to taste everything you eat from this environment first. Is that clearly understood and accepted?”

“Sure.” Chad nodded.

“Wait a minute,” said Steve. “I hate to be the only one asking all these questions, but you robots can survive all kinds of stuff that will kill humans. Just because some food doesn’t make you malfunction won’t mean it can’t poison us.”

“That’s a reasonable question,” said Jane.

“My taste sensors have the ability to study the chemical composition of substances,” said Hunter. “I can judge whether consuming something will kill a human, and the likelihood of its making one ill. Otherwise, the First Law would not allow me to let any of you eat an unknown food. Even certain kinds of fish can be poisonous. Naturally, even the food I judge to be edible will have to be fully cooked.”

“I’m convinced.” Steve grinned. “You won’t catch me’ complaining about this.”

“Chad,” said Hunter. “How should we go about catching dinosaurs to ride?”

“Well, a snare is out,” said Chad. “It might injure their legs and make them unfit for riding. I suppose we’ll just have to lasso them somehow.”

“We have rope for that,” said Hunter. “What else?”

“We’ll need a corral,” said Steve. “To hold them, especially at first.”

“A holding pen,” said Hunter. “If I make one of wood, will it be strong enough?”

“I think it’s worth trying,” said Chad. “Our prospective mounts will certainly be strong enough to smash through wooden rails if they want.”

“Then what good is a corral?” Hunter asked. “Many animals won’t try to break out unless they’re really excited,” said Steve. “Horses, for instance. They can often kick out of a wooden stall or corral if they want. But most of the time they don’t bother.”

“Exactly,” said Chad. “I can’t tell you what level of excitement dinosaurs would have to reach before they try it. I suppose each species of dinosaur might respond a little differently.”

“Then I will try it,” said Hunter. “This forest has plenty of fallen trees and standing dead ones. I can build a corral out of dead wood without killing any of the live trees.”

“We can all help,” said Steve. “Not necessary.” Hunter studied the forest immediately around them.

No one spoke. At first, Steve couldn’t figure out why Hunter was looking around in the dark. Then he remembered that Hunter had infrared night vision and could see images in the dark because of the difference in the amount of heat radiated by various objects.

“The wood I need is close enough,” Hunter concluded. “While you three are sleeping, I’ll work on the corral. I will not need to rest. I have plenty of energy stored up. During the day tomorrow, my body’s surface solar cells can replenish what I use tonight.”

“I’m worried about the distance MC 1 can cover,” said Jane. “Since we saw him, he’s already had a number of hours to keep moving. Like you, he can move all night on stored energy and replenish it in the sunlight tomorrow.”

“You mean he can stay on the run night and day?” Steve’s eyes widened.

“That’s right,” said Jane. “He has an internal monitor like Hunter’s, that tells him how much energy his body has in storage at any time. As long as he lets the sunlight restore as much or more than he uses, he can keep moving.”

Hunter looked at Jane somberly. “I suggest we split up into teams tomorrow.”

“Will the First Law allow that?” Jane asked.

“Only if everyone agrees to my conditions. Here is what I propose. During the night, I will build a small corral out of dead wood. If I am not finished by sunrise, Chad can help me finish it.”

“What?” Steve looked at him in surprise. “Building the corral sounds more like my kind of work.”

“Definitely,” said Chad. “Why not have Steve do that with you?”

“Hear me out,” Hunter said patiently. “After you and I have finished the corral, we will do some hunting. You will help me search for struthiomimuses, or other suitable dinosaurs, and we may fish in the stream as well.”

“All right,” said Chad. “You want me to help find certain dinosaurs; I understand. I still say Steve ought to work on the corral with you.”

“I want Steve to help Jane track MC 1,” said Hunter. “I have a small transmitter for one of you to carry. If you see any sign of trouble, you are to warn me instantly. If possible, you will hurry back to camp immediately. Otherwise, you take the safest course of action you can until I can reach you. Is this understood?”

“Of course,” said Jane.

“Sounds good to me,” said Steve. He grinned at Chad. They both knew that Hunter was sending Steve with Jane because he could handle the tracking and hiking better than Chad. Hunter was simply too tactful to say so.

“We’ll have to look for signs of erratic behavior or physical change in MC 1,” said Jane, “in addition to his choice of evasive pattern and his general direction. I doubt we can actually catch him without mounts, but I might find some behavior patterns that will help us anticipate his movements later.”

“Excellent,” said Hunter.

“Something you might think about,” said Steve. “I can rig reins, bridles, and cinches out of rope. But if you can think of a way to make saddles, stirrups that will hold our weight if we stand, and bits that a dinosaur can’t bite through, that will help.”

“I will consider it,” said Hunter. “May I ask if you are sleepy?”

All three of them laughed.

“Yeah, actually,” said Steve. “I usually get up at dawn and go to bed shortly after dark. I’m ready for bed.”

“Not quite yet for me,” said Jane. “I’ll just sit up and enjoy the evening.”

“Me too,” said Chad. “I’ll look through my belt computer some more.”

“Then I will start work on the corral,” said Hunter, and he moved away into the darkness.

Steve brushed his teeth and washed up using a pan of water. Then he went into the tent and took off his boots. He slipped into one of the sleeping bags, where he relaxed for the first time since they had arrived in this time. While he certainly didn’t like Chad much, he was enjoying the feeling of adventure. Tomorrow should be a real challenge.

When Steve woke up, Jane and Chad were still asleep in the tent. He quietly crawled outside into the cool, humid forest air. Shafts of bright light filtered through the trees overhead.

“Good morning, Steve,” Hunter said quietly. He was about ten meters away from the tent.

Steve turned and stopped in surprise. Hunter was standing by a sturdy corral constructed of many different kinds of wood. It was unevenly shaped, the perimeter going around various trees and even enclosing a number of them.

“Do you think this will be adequate?” Hunter asked. “It is fifteen meters across at the narrowest and twenty at the widest. The gate is this bar in front.” He patted the gate with one hand.

“It looks great,” said Steve.

“I notched the logs to fit into each other,” said Hunter. “But the rails are not really very sturdy. I do not have nails or the equipment to drill precise holes for dowels. I thought about lashing the junctures with vines, but that would mean killing living vines, which I consider unwise. Dead vines, of course, are too brittle.”

“If a good-sized dinosaur really wanted to kick down the rails, nails and dowels wouldn’t stop him,” said Steve.

“Let me show you what else I made,” said Hunter, moving to a pile of objects under a tree.

“I don’t recognize this stuff,” said Steve.

“Our storage cases had steel support bands,” said Hunter. “I broke off some pieces. This one, for instance, I twisted into a short length to use as a bit. What do you think of it?”

“Oh! Of course.” Steve took the piece of oddly-shaped metal. “It looks great for a horse. We’ll have to find out if a dinosaur can bite through it or not. What’s this other stuff?”

“Several more bits, of course.” Hunter pointed to different items in the pile. “Those flat metal pieces should support your weight as stirrups.”

“What about these big wooden things?”

“Those are rudimentary saddles,” said Hunter. “I accessed data I had about old English riding saddles and modeled these on that design. They use less material than larger ones.”

“Oh, yes. I recognize the shape now.”

“I carved the top to fit human anatomy, of course. You will find metal bands in the bottom for connecting a girth and cinch. This design has no saddle horn.”

“Very serviceable,” said Steve. “I’ll have to wait until we’ve caught a mount before I tie together a bridle or measure a girth. Otherwise, I can’t estimate the sizes.”

“Understood.”

“How could you do all this work in one night?” Steve looked at Hunter in astonishment.

Hunter grinned. “It helps not to get tired. I do not need breaks and I did not slow down until the last hour before sunrise. At that point my stored energy was running low, but I am already replenishing it now that the sun has come up.”

“We’re practically in the shade here, Hunter.”

“It is good enough.”

“Even through your clothes?” Steve asked, grinning.

“My face and hands are exposed all the time.” Hunter shrugged. “I will be fine soon. But you three will require breakfast. How much longer are Chad and Jane likely to sleep?”

Steve grinned. “I think they’ve had enough sleep. I’ll start breakfast. Maybe they would enjoy being awakened by a loud shout from a robot.”

“Really?” Hunter looked at the tent. “My experience with humans is still limited. I will try it.”

11

STEVE HAD BREAKFAST ready by the time Jane and Chad were dressed and out of the tent. Soon enough, the team was ready to start the day. Steve wore a small day pack with food and water for them both. It was enough for them to stay out of camp until sundown.

“Here is the transmitter,” Hunter said, handing Jane a tiny metal bead.

“It’s turned on all the time?” Steve asked, studying the transmitter in Jane’s fingers.

“Yes. It has no clip, so I suggest you button it securely in one of your pockets,” said Hunter.

“All right.” Jane did so.

“I will have my comlink fixed on your frequency,” said Hunter. “It emits beeps at regular intervals, so I can track your position at all times. But I must trust you to call for help at the first sign of danger.”

“We will,” said Jane. “I’m ready.”

“Have fun with the mighty forest hunter,” Chad said snidely to Jane.

Ignoring Chad, Steve nodded to Hunter and led Jane to the spot where MC 1 had last been seen. He pointed to the faint footprints the robot had left. Jane nodded and followed him through the forest.

“Tracking is a lot easier out in the desert,” said Steve, crouching low to study the ground again. “The soft sand retains clearer footprints.”

“Will we be able to track him through the forest?” Jane asked. “Even after he quits running?”

“Yeah. It’s just tougher.” Steve fingered a broken twig. “An animal, say a dinosaur, could have done this. But it’s a fairly fresh break, so it was probably made by MC 1.” He reached up to a bigger branch and started to “break it.

“Stop it! What are you doing?” She grabbed his wrist and pulled it away.

“I’m blazing a trail, so we can find our way back. We aren’t going to find any road signs out here.” He smiled and started to break the branch again.

“You can’t!” She pulled his arm away. “Remember the historical theory Hunter talked about?”

“Aw, come on. You mean breaking a couple of branches is going to stunt human evolution forever?” He pointed in the direction MC 1 had taken. “What about him? He’s snapping twigs every time he runs into a tree. And he’s stomping on the grass — horrors! So are we!” He laughed, looking at the soft, cool turf under his feet.

“I know.” Jane smiled patiently, but she kept her hold on his arm. “Yes, he’s making small changes here. And we are, too. But it’s important — very important, Steve — for us not to make any changes we can avoid.”

“But breaking these twigs doesn’t even kill the tree or the bush.”

“I agree that it doesn’t seem too serious,” said Jane. “But the theory says that all changes keep expanding, like ripples in a pool of water. Maybe these twigs are going to drop specific seeds whose descendants will mutate in a certain way, or feed a certain animal. You see what I mean?”

“I guess.”

“In fact, I’m afraid it’s possible that the impact of our being here has already caused terrible harm to the time we come from.”

Steve shook his head. “None of us should have come back here, including MC Governor.”

“I don’t blame you for not believing it,” said Jane, releasing his arm. “These calculations are very complex and the theory requires a lot of abstraction. I’m sure you don’t have much experience with this kind of thing.”

“Thanks a lot.” Steve pulled fully away from her. “You highly educated geniuses can’t even find your way around in nature after you leave an artificial environment. Come on, follow the desert rat.”

He hurried away, looking up at the trees for unusual shapes and markings. As long as he was careful, he could keep track of their trail this way. Still, he wished they had landed in a desert, where his everyday habits from back home would have been more useful.

Hunter, continuously monitoring the beep from Jane’s transmitter, generally trusted Steve’s ability in the wild and knew he could track MC 1 better than the other two humans. Also, Hunter had teamed him with Jane in the belief that she was more compatible with him than Chad. Still, they might easily stumble across that velociraptor or another predator, and Hunter was worried that he was skirting the edge of the First Law by letting them go without him.

He kept all of these thoughts to himself, of course. His experience with humans was limited, but he had been programmed with certain basic data on human psychology. He knew that they needed to have confidence in his leadership.

As Hunter reviewed these thoughts, he and Chad carried the water containers to the stream that Steve had found. They filled them and lugged the water back to the camp. Hunter bore most of the weight, but Chad insisted on doing his share.

Hunter had calculated before they had left that the three humans would require four and a half liters of water a day. As a humanoid robot, he needed a smaller amount, to replenish his simulated saliva and perspiration. Once the water had been stored in camp, he picked up some materials he could adapt for fishing. He and Chad returned to the stream, carrying their lassos.

The stream was only about a meter wide here, occasionally broadening into pools about twice that size. Hunter judged the average depth at one and a half meters; the water ran fast enough to be fairly clear. The heavy canopy of trees arched over it and the roots of thick trunks were exposed at intervals along the bank.

“My hearing is turned up,” said Hunter. “It tells me that all kinds of animals are nearby in the forest. Have you seen any of them?”

“Only glimpses,” said Chad. “I haven’t had a good look at them. Can you tell from the sound if any of them are a good riding size?”

“Many of them are,” said Hunter. “My concern under the First and Third Laws is that I cannot tell which ones are predators waiting for a kill and which ones are herbivores hiding from us in case we are the predators.”

“In a sense we are,” said Chad, grinning. “We’re just not going to eat the ones we catch.”

“True.” Hunter nodded, not sure why Chad thought his comment was amusing. “I cannot see them well enough to pick out different species, either. As a paleontologist, what do you suggest as a course of action?”

Chad did not answer right away. He looked up and down the stream and around the forest. “You know, the animals here don’t have the ingrained fear of humans that wild animals in our own time have. They’re being cautious around us, but I think if we sit down quietly, maybe some of them will come into sight for a drink of water.”

“Ah. A change in our approach sounds very good. Suppose we fish in the stream and see what happens around us.”

“Fine.”

“Here. This thread is quite strong. I pulled it out of the seam of one of the packs. That little buckle is also from the pack and will act as a sinker. You know how to use these?”

“Yes,” said Chad. “I’ve read about fishing. What was this hook made from?”

“A latch on one of the storage cases. I twisted it into that shape.”

“I see.” Chad sat down on a rock near the edge of the water and carefully tied the gear together. “Say, what do I use for bait?”

“Oh, yes.” Hunter looked around in the air for a moment. He spotted a couple of insects fluttering around a small bush. Slowly, he stepped toward them, raising his hand. Then, using his highly precise eye-hand coordination, he snatched one out of the air.

“Wow.” Chad stared at him in shock.

“The local fish eat these all the time,” said Hunter, as he tied the insect to the line just above the hook. “I judge that since we are taking the risk of fishing anyway, this is the best bait to use. If we use something we brought with us, and it affects the water or is taken by a fish that gets away, we do not know what consequence may result.”

“I see,” said Chad, gently lowering his line into the water with his hands.

“I will bring you a dead branch you can use for a pole,” said Hunter.

“Thanks.”

Hunter moved to a half-fallen dead tree. As he grasped a meter-long branch and gently ripped it from the trunk, he questioned his wisdom in bringing the human team with him. If he had come to this time period alone, he could simply be chasing down MC 1 this minute.

Of course, he reminded himself, if a direct physical pursuit had failed for some reason, he would still have wanted Jane’s expert understanding of robotics and Chad’s knowledge of dinosaurs. So that line of consideration merely took him in a circle. Returning the humans to their own time and coming back here alone would be no solution either.

Hunter returned to Chad, handing him the branch without a word. Chad tied the line to end of the branch carefully, then grinned up at Hunter. “Now I just wait. Did you bring fishing materials for yourself too?”

“No need, I believe,” said Hunter. “I’ll find out.” He picked his way downstream several meters and then crouched on the bank. For a moment, he remained absolutely motionless except for his eyes as he watched dark shapes slipping lazily in the water below him.

Chad said nothing, watching him.

Once Hunter had studied the swimming motion and reflexes of the fish below him, he slowly moved his hand into the water and held it still. After a moment of warily darting away, the fish returned to their former movements. Then Hunter quickly reached down and grabbed one by the gills. In the same moment, he stood up, raising the wriggling fish out of the water and over the bank. It was big enough to eat.

“What do you think?”

“Wow,” Chad said again.

For most of the day, Steve tracked MC 1 steadily through the forest. In some areas the tracks were very clear. Sometimes he had to stop and look closely. They ate lunch at midday and plodded on.

Late in the afternoon, Steve stopped and turned to Jane. “I don’t know that we’re accomplishing anything. Have you seen anything important?”

“We’ve been zigzagging and circling all day, haven’t we?” Jane asked.

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“MC 1 isn’t just running straight away, is he? For distance, I mean.”

“Well —” Steve stopped, considering. “I guess he isn’t. If we were chasing him with hounds, I’d say he was doubling back and crossing his own path to confuse the scent. But he must know that we didn’t bring any hounds. So I’m not sure why he’s doing this.”

“I suppose he might access stored data about creating evasive patterns under certain conditions. The one truth about studying a robot’s behavior is that it will be absolutely logical according to his own interpretation of his data and the Three Laws.”

Steve nodded.

“Can you tell how old the track is?”

“No. If we were talking about a difference of a day or so, I might be able to. But we know he’s been at normal size less than a day. I can’t judge the age of these tracks in hours.” He shrugged.

“I see.”

“Well, he’s still running.” Steve pointed to the robot’s footprints at their feet. “He’s humaniform, so he runs with essentially the same motion as a human. See how the front of the footstep is deeper than the rest of it?”

“Yes. The heel mark hardly shows at all.”

“His weight is all forward, meaning he’s running, and the tracks we’ve seen show that he’s been running most of time. He seems to stop sometimes, maybe to get his bearings or to avoid a predatory dinosaur. Still, he’s moving much faster than we are. We’ll never catch him without those mounts.”

“Well, didn’t I say we shouldn’t expect to? We came out here today to see what his habits are, that’s all.”

“Yeah, yeah, I remember,” Steve said wearily. “But haven’t you seen anything yet?”

“Well, I see that he’s meandering all over the place. I just don’t know what it means yet.”

“Why not? You’re the robotics expert, aren’t you?” Steve grinned, wiping sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his worksuit. “Isn’t this why Hunter brought along a sheltered, pampered intellectual?”

Jane’s face tightened. “It’s a sure thing you can’t figure out what he’s doing.”

“No one expects me to. In fact —” Steve stopped suddenly, looking at something ahead of them in the woods. He thought he saw two very human-looking eyes peering at him through the heavy foliage.

Jane looked too.

Suddenly MC 1 straightened up and slipped away through the underbrush.

“Stop!” Jane yelled. “I order you to stop! MC 1 — Mojave Center component robot! You have to stop!”

“Come on!” Steve started after him, shoving through some branches.

“Stop!” Jane yelled again, hurrying after him.

Steve had to protect his eyes from the leaves and branches he plunged into, pushing them aside with both hands, In only a few steps, however, he realized that the robot was out of sight again. The footsteps were as clear as before, but MC 1 was running again. They couldn’t possibly catch him.

Jane collided with Steve from behind.

“Take it easy,” said Steve. “He’s gone.”

She nodded, panting. “He still must have his hearing turned off, as I said yesterday. The Second Law wouldn’t have let him run away from me otherwise.”

“He was watching us,” said Steve. “He could be watching us right now.”

“He can’t hear us, though. He wouldn’t dare risk it.” Jane looked around, as if she could find him again. “I think that answers our question, though.”

“Huh? Which one?”

“About his route. He isn’t just trying to get away from us. I think his plan is to stay out of our control, but to keep an eye on us.”

“You mean he’s been watching us all day long?”

“I think so.”

“Why didn’t we see him before? Why now?”

“Chance, maybe,” said Jane. “Or maybe he got a little careless after escaping our notice all day long.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Steve grinned. “If we hadn’t followed him, he wouldn’t have gone anywhere. We could have saved ourselves a day-long hike.”

“Maybe so.” She smiled.

He looked up at the sun through the trees. “Well, that discovery is worth something. But we’re running out of daylight. Time to head back to camp while I can still remember the landmarks.”

From the R. Hunter files

The now-famous prototype of the highly successful “Hunter” class robot first demonstrated his remarkable abilities in the Mohave Center Governor case. The following images are drawn from the Robot City archives of Derec Avery, the eminent historian on robotics.

12

HUNTER HAD CAUGHT and cleaned enough fish for the humans’ next two meals during his first ten minutes of effort. Chad had taken his line out of the water, wryly observing that he was wasting his time. After that, the two of them had spent the afternoon sitting quietly, watching for dinosaurs.

When Hunter heard footsteps nearby, he quietly told Chad where to look. As they waited, they began to glimpse dinosaurs of all kinds up and down the stream, coming to the water to drink. The first one Hunter saw clearly was nearly five meters tall. It was a two-legged duck-billed creature, reaching up to munch on leaves as it worked its way toward the water.

Chad unclipped his belt computer, quickly punching in a description. “Small, bony crest on top of its head,” he muttered. “Duckbill, small hump on its nose.”

As Hunter watched, the dinosaur moved to the water and bent down low to drink. Its long tall flipped up slightly in the back to help it keep its balance. Another one, slightly shorter, appeared behind it.

“Brachylophosaurus,” said Chad quietly. “Both of them. From the body type, I would say they aren’t much good for riding. They run leaning forward, but stand up high when they reach for food. No matter how we arranged the saddles, we’d fallout when they shift up and down.”

Hunter nodded. “Look downstream, on the opposite bank.”

A low, four-legged dinosaur had just slipped from the underbrush to drink from the stream. Its pear-shaped head was fairly small, ending in a sharp beak. However, its body looked huge; most of it was still hidden by the forest cover. What Hunter could see was covered with rows of thick, bony plates. Long spikes protected its sides and shoulders.

“Panoplosaurus,” Chad whispered, consulting his belt computer again. “Up to five and a half meters long, between two and three tons in weight.”

“From the length of its legs, I would say it couldn’t move fast enough to catch MC 1,” Hunter observed.

“I wouldn’t want to sit on one, anyway,” said Chad, with a grin.

As the day wore on, the majority of dinosaurs that came to the water were varieties of hadrosaurs, such as the brachylophosaurus, according to Chad. He eagerly identified all the different species, which varied in size and color. They had duckbills and crests of different shapes on top of their heads. The legs of the hadrosaurs were strong and heavy, ending in three-toed, hooved feet. Their forelimbs were medium-sized, with webbed, four-fingered hands. Chad quickly entered all the new details that he could see.

“They are remarkably unconcerned with our presence,” said Hunter. “My information on wild animals tells me that they are usually afraid of humans.”

“The remaining wild animals in our own time are descended from very wary, suspicious ancestors who managed to avoid being hunted and fished by humans for many generations,” said Chad, looking around for more dinosaurs.

“You think their behavior has changed through a form of selection, then.”

“Well, these dinosaurs don’t have any particular fear of us because humans have never existed around them before. They don’t even know what to think of us. I guess as long as we sit quietly, the herbivores will just keep their distance and get their drink of water.”

“Perhaps so.”

“None of the hadrosaurs are good for riding,” Chad said. “We need another type.”

“I think I hear a new pattern of footsteps,” said Hunter, suddenly lowering his voice. “Closer to that of the stegoceras, but of a larger beast. Look upstream, on this side.”

They remained silent for a moment. A dinosaur’s dark green head appeared through the leaves. It moved slowly, looking around. Then it leaned down to drink from the stream.

“Another velociraptor?” Hunter whispered.

Chad shook his head. “No, it’s just very similar in appearance. That’s the struthiomimus we’ve been looking for.”

“Wait here.” Hunter took his lasso from his shoulder. “I can move more quietly, I think. I will circle behind him and lasso him. Be ready to jump up and run to me. We will need both loops on him.”

Chad nodded.

Hunter shifted into a very detailed sensory mode, in which he used his eyesight to analyze the plants and soil on the ground and the branches in front of him. With his instant reflexes, he judged exactly where to place his feet and how to move through the branches and leaves with maximum stealth. He only had to walk slightly more slowly than usual to do this. A human would have had to slow down considerably.

The struthiomimus drank from the water, then lifted its head on its very long neck to listen. Hunter stopped. When it lowered its head to drink again, he moved forward.

Hunter came up behind it. The struthiomimus was a two-legged dinosaur about two meters tall. Its neck represented almost half its total height. Hunter adjusted the loop on his lasso and waited.

The biggest problem in throwing the lasso was not just missing the dinosaur, but having tree branches get in the way. Hunter carefully studied the small clear area through which he could make his toss. He was ready by the time the struthiomimus finally turned away from the stream, back toward him.

Hunter judged the precise moment to throw his loop and tossed it with his finest control. As the struthiomimus turned to look at the movement of the rope, the loop fell over its head and all the way down its neck. The dinosaur pulled back, turning to run.

“Now!” Hunter shouted, flinging the free end of his rope around a tree. He wound it around the big tree trunk once, just before the fleeing dinosaur pulled the rope taut. Then Hunter hung on to the rope, using the tree trunk as a brace.

“I’m coming!” Chad ran crashing through the underbrush, swinging his lasso.

“This way,” Hunter called. “Hold this rope and give me your lasso.”

“I’ll do it!” Chad dodged around a couple of trees and moved toward the struthiomimus, which was trampling the bushes and crashing against the trees in an effort to pull away.

“Stop!” Hunter screamed frantically. “It’s too dangerous!”

“It’s okay! He’s already roped.” Chad slowed down, approaching the raging dinosaur.

Hunter couldn’t allow Chad to go any closer. Impelled by the First Law, Hunter quickly tied his rope into a knot and ran after Chad. “Chad, you must stop!”

The struthiomimus was straining its narrow neck against the rope, too panicked to pay any attention to Chad. Its heavy body was snapping young trees in half and its feet were flattening the underbrush. Chad, showing more courage than common sense, stood his ground and reared back to throw his lasso.

Hunter saw that Chad was close enough to be trampled if the terrified dinosaur suddenly shifted in his direction. To move him as fast as possible, Hunter flung himself forward in a flying tackle carefully gauged to bring Chad down without hurting him by the impact. He grabbed Chad around the waist, then turned so that as they hit the ground, Hunter’s body cushioned Chad’s.

“Stay there,” Hunter ordered, leaping up and snatching away the rope. “If you do not keep yourself safe, I will have to cut it free so it cannot hurt you.”

Chad just nodded.

Hunter moved up on the dinosaur quickly. This time, with its movements confined, lassoing it was even easier. Hunter tied the second rope securely to another tree and returned to the first rope to tie it more securely. The struthiomimus pulled against the ropes, but Hunter could see that they would hold.

“Now what do we do?” Chad had stood up now, but dutifully remained where Hunter had told him to stay.

“When he calms down, we have to move him to the corral,” said Hunter. “How long do you think that will take?”

“What do I think?” Chad shook his head. “Nothing in the fossil record can predict his emotional state. All we can do is wait and see what he does.”

“All right.” Hunter looked through the trees in the direction of the camp. “We are not strong enough to pull him by hand in any direction he does not want to go.”

“Then how do we make him come with us?”

“When he is calm, I will untie one rope at a time. While he is braced by the other rope, we will pull him or coax him with food to follow us. Then we will retie the lead rope to a tree trunk and do the same with the other one. The tree trunks are close enough for us to move him that way.”

“That could take a long time.”

Hunter looked up at the sun. “We have several hours of daylight.”

Steve and Jane returned to camp first. When the setting sun turned red, Steve began preparing dinner. Even when it was ready, Hunter and Chad still had not returned.

“Maybe Hunter should have given us a receiver,” said Jane. “So we could keep tabs on him, too.”

Steve glanced over at her. She smiled impishly. He wasn’t sure if she was serious or not. Ever since they had bickered a little out on the trail, he had been uncomfortable with her, but she seemed to have forgotten about it.

“Steve! Jane!” Hunter’s voice came out of the darkening forest, not far away.

“Yeah!” Steve shouted back.

“Open the corral!”

Steve and Jane glanced at each other, then hurried toward the gate. They opened it. Then, out of the shadows, Hunter came into sight, pulling a taut rope.

“Ready, Chad?” Hunter called. “Untie your rope and hold it this time. We have to bring him into the corral.” He turned to Steve. “Help Chad on his rope.”

Steve and Jane jogged forward. They could hear something large breaking branches as it struggled. It was still invisible in the darkness.

“Steve? Over here,” said Chad.

Steve looked around and saw him only a few steps away. As Chad loosened his rope from a tree, Steve grabbed it. So did Jane. Then, for the first time, Steve saw the long neck and narrow head of the dinosaur, rising up high overhead.

“Just pull him,” said Chad. “He’s more docile now. He fought hard at first, but he’s getting tired, I think.”

“Okay.”

Hunter pulled the hardest. Little by little, the dinosaur stepped forward, forced to move by the tautness of the two ropes around its neck. In a few moments Hunter and the three humans had all backed into the corral. The dinosaur, looking around in jerky, sudden movements, at last stepped inside the corral gate.

Hunter quickly lashed his rope to one of the trees inside the corral. Then, circling safely around the dinosaur, he took the rope from Chad. “Climb over the rails,” he said. “Stay away from the struthiomimus.”

Steve dropped the rope and moved toward the fence. He clambered over the rails first and turned. Jane leaned down to brace herself on the arm he offered. Chad climbed over slowly at another part of the fence.

In the corral Hunter held the rope firmly as he backed to the fence. Then he let go of it and carefully watched the dinosaur. The struthiomimus, feeling the release of tension, suddenly pranced sideways. At the same time, Hunter dodged behind it and moved to the other rope. He untied it and then ran to the nearest part of the fence, where he jumped over.

The dinosaur began to run around the corral, among the trees.

“Get away!” Hunter yelled at the humans, seeing where they were. “Away from the fence. He might break out.”

Steve backed off, but Hunter was frantically running toward them.

“Now! Move!” Hunter spread his arms wide, slowing down abruptly. He herded the three humans away from the fence, back toward the camp. “Stay behind me.”

As they watched, the struthiomimus ran among the trees, shaking its head. For a moment it slipped out of sight in the dark, but reappeared, walking more slowly. So far it was still in the corral.

“It’s really pretty calm for a wild animal in captivity,” said Steve.

“It fought hard at first,” said Hunter. “It quickly tired itself out pulling against the trees we used as braces. It may still break out sometime tonight.”

“What do we do now?” Jane asked.

“Dinner’s ready,” said Steve. “Let’s give our captive time to adjust.”

“Yes,” said Hunter. “I will listen carefully to the dinosaur’s footsteps. If it becomes agitated, I will have to tend to it.”

“I’m hungry enough,” said Chad.

They sat down to eat facing the corral. By that time the forest was almost completely dark, but Steve moved one of the portable lights to the edge of the fence and angled it inside. They could see the dinosaur pacing anxiously among the trees, in and out of the light.

“Looks good so far,” said Steve, as he collected the empty dishes. He began cleaning the fish that Hunter had brought back, intending to use them in a future meal.

“He’s eating leaves,” said Jane. “Look.”

“That’s a good sign,” said Chad. “He’s not as upset as he was. Maybe he won’t break out.”

“You three go to bed,” said Hunter. “I will have to watch him all night. I cannot take the risk that he might break out and trample the tent.”

“What if he does escape?” Steve asked. “What can you actually do about it?”

“I will retrieve the ropes now. If I anticipate that he will break out, I can tie him to a tree again.”

“That’s good enough for me,” said Jane.

13

IN THE EARLY light, Steve again woke up first. He hurried out right away to take a look at the dinosaur. “Hey, Hunter! Is it still here?”

“Good morning, Steve,” Hunter called from the corral. “Over this way.”

Steve ran to the gate, then stopped in surprise. Hunter, riding on the back of the struthiomimus with a saddle and bridle, guided his mount from the trees into full view. He rode up to the gate as Steve stared.

“You can ride it already?” Steve gazed at the calm struthiomimus. “It really looks like an ostrich, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, it does,” said Chad, coming up behind Steve. “It’s no accident, either. Walking birds in our own time, such as ostriches and emus, are among the closest living relatives of dinosaurs.”

“Really? Are they descendants of dinosaurs like this one?” Steve asked.

“The answer to that is still being debated,” said Chad. “Some experts say they are. Others feel that birds are descended from an ancestor common to the dinosaurs. That would make them descendants of, you might say, dinosaurs’ cousins.”

Steve nodded, impressed with Chad’s knowledge. That was the most civil conversation he and Chad had yet exchanged. He didn’t want to ruin it, so he said nothing else.

Hunter had used a small bit to go into the mouth of his mount and had tied a small bridle together out of rope. The struthiomimus’s head was higher than Hunter’s, and Hunter had to guide him with long reins. He sat on the small makeshift saddle, which was tightly cinched around the creature’s body.

“How did you tame him so soon?” Chad asked.

“After he calmed down, he became very responsive to me,” said Hunter. “I fed him with certain leaves and he let me get close. Since Steve needed his sleep, I spent a couple of hours making the saddle and bridle.”

“Wait a minute. You mean he just let you ride him?” Steve asked doubtfully.

“No, not exactly. He did not like the saddle or bridle much at all. I had to tie him up again to put them on and he fought them for another couple of hours after I untied him.”

“He got used to them pretty fast,” said Chad. “Maybe he’s smarter than the experts thought.”

“I judge him to be somewhat less intelligent than a horse,” said Hunter.

“How long have you been riding him?” Steve asked.

“About three hours,” said Hunter. “The first time, I had to sneak up on him and jump on. The Third Law allowed this, because falling from this height is not too serious. I can control my falls.”

“And now he’s trained enough to ride,” said Chad. “That’s pretty good work.”

“At least for the moment,” said Hunter. “He may resist again if I get off.”

“He’s day-broke,” said Steve.

“What?” Hunter asked.

“A horse that has to be broken to ride every day is called ‘day-broke.’”

“I see. Yes, I think that is what he is,” said Hunter. “However, to keep him under control, I should stay mounted on him through the day unless a more pressing concern develops.”

“Okay,” said Steve. “I’ll get breakfast going right away. But then what do we do?”

“I want you to make another saddle for Chad,” said Hunter. “One we can strap on behind mine up here. He will ride double with me. Also another bridle that he will use tomorrow if all goes well. Now that we have one mount to ride, we should be able to run down another struthiomimus fairly easily.”

“Hey, that’s right,” said Chad. “No more sitting around waiting. And we won’t have to drag it on foot with ropes either.”

“What about Steve and me?” Jane asked, joining them at the corral.

“In the excitement last night, I never asked you for a debriefing,” said Hunter. “What did you find?”

“MC 1‘s trail is all over the place,” said Jane. “He’s roaming, not just running. Steve did a great job of tracking him.”

“Can you infer his motives?”

“Well, maybe. I’ve been thinking about it. Since he’s not trying to put simple distance between himself and us, two general possibilities present themselves. One is that he has malfunctioned in some way. A physical malfunction may have impaired his ability to judge what he is doing and where he is going.”

“He has no trouble running,” said Steve. “He can move fast. We even glimpsed him once, watching us.”

“That brings me to the second possibility,” said Jane. “He may have some reason for staying close and watching us, even though that means greater risk for him.”

“I would like you to continue tracking him today,” said Hunter. “I hope that tomorrow we will have two mounts on which to follow him, so tomorrow morning we will want to pick up his trail in the most recent spot you can give us.”

When breakfast was finished, Steve provisioned a day pack for Chad, cooking some of the fish and making sandwiches. Then he prepared the new saddle and bridle. Soon everyone was ready.

Steve handed Chad his pack and carried the saddle inside the corral. While Hunter held his mount steady, Steve, tingling with excitement, swung the new saddle up onto the back of the struthiomimus. He was ready to jump aside and run for the corral fence at the first sudden movement.

Hunter held the dinosaur firmly in place. Without incident, Steve cinched the saddle tight and waved to Chad, who was waiting at the gate. Then Chad, carrying the bridle, reluctantly came forward. Steve gave him a leg up into the saddle.

“Wow,” Chad said quietly, settling into the saddle. “I’m actually riding a dinosaur.”

“Put your arms around me and hang on,” said Hunter. “Its gait is reliable, since it walks on only two legs. But it moves its head up and down on that long neck to eat and to look around. The body angle shifts a little at the same time.”

“Right,” said Chad, looking up at the struthiomimus’s head with a new interest.

Steve ran to open the gate. Steve and Jane watched as the others rode out of the corral. Then, with a hesitant but controlled walk, Hunter and Chad’s mount carried them into the forest.

“So far, so good,” said Steve.

“They’ll be fine,” said Jane. “You know Hunter can’t let either one of them get hurt if he can help it.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Steve. “I just hope he knows what he’s doing.”

Steve prepared their day pack and they started out again on foot. He followed his landmarks back to their terminal point of the day before. They picked up the trail again, still wandering through the dense forest on a curving, crisscrossing route.

After only an hour or so, Steve stopped for a moment. “This is silly. He’s not going anywhere. Neither are we. We were in this spot twice yesterday and now today.”

Jane looked down at the tracks, which were thick here. “Is he slowing down? Are those walking tracks instead of running tracks?”

“Yeah.” Steve grinned at her. “You’re learning.”

“What I said yesterday goes double today. He really isn’t trying to escape at all.”

“No, I’d have to agree with you.” Steve studied the footprints around them. “If he wanted to lose us, he could be wading up or down that stream. Then he wouldn’t leave any trail at all. Or he might find some rocky ground somewhere.”

“Yesterday, I thought he was just circling back to watch us. But he’s not just doing that, either, or he would leave even less of a trail, don’t you think?”

“That would make sense,” said Steve. “But I’m just here to track our quarry through the forest. You’re the expert on how robots think.”

“I guess we’ll just have to keep following him,” said Jane. “But I wish I knew why he was hanging around like this.”

“This way,” said Steve.

Hunter rode for the first hour or so, giving most of his attention to his mount. The First Law had him deeply concerned about letting Chad ride with him. Finally, however, Hunter concluded that the dinosaur was truly under enough control for them to ride safely.

“I’d like to name it ‘Strut,’ “said Chad happily, over his shoulder. “A mount should have a name. Besides, ‘struthiomimus’ is just too long a word to say all the time.”

“Strut,” said Hunter. “Very well.”

“I thought that was kind of funny. Don’t you think that’s a good name?”

“Short, distinctive, and a mnemonic for the species,” said Hunter. “Yes, it is an appropriate name.”

“And it walks upright.”

“Yes?”

“You don’t have much sense of humor, do you?”

Hunter quickly searched his data on the subject. He recalled that humor was important to humans. However, with the urgency of finding MC Governor or his components, Hunter had never taken the time to consider the subject.

“I apologize,” said Hunter.

“No need.” Chad laughed. “Never mind.”

Puzzled, Hunter simply nodded.

Throughout midday, Hunter guided their mount quietly through the forest, looking for another struthiomimus. They could not find one. Hunter stopped at several places along the stream, where they waited again for dinosaurs to come to drink. Whenever a new species appeared, Chad quickly looked up its name and traits, but they did not see a specimen they could ride. So Hunter moved on.

Behind him, Chad ate his lunch as they rode. When he had finished, Hunter passed him the reins so that he could learn to ride Strut on his own. Hunter remained in the forward saddle, but that seemed to make no difference. Chad guided their mount without a problem.

“I’ve been looking in my belt computer for more species that might be good prospects,” said Chad. “Maybe the struthiomimus just isn’t common in this neighborhood right now.”

“What data were you checking?”

“Only a few traits.” Chad relaxed the reins so that their mount could crane its long neck forward to browse on some leaves. “Cranial capacity, for learning ability. Size and strength of leg bones, to make sure they can carry us. The structure of the pelvis and spine of bipedal dinosaurs, to judge whether or not they are likely to bend far forward and then straighten up suddenly again, throwing us.”

“What have you found?”

“Well, so far, not much —”

Hunter held up his hand for silence. His hearing had just detected movement ahead. The four footsteps he heard sounded like those of something very heavy. At the same time, he heard the faint swishing and snapping of twigs — many of them at once, suggesting massive size to match the great weight of the creature.

Hunter waved his hand forward.

Chad urged the struthiomimus to walk. At first it moved casually enough, but then it suddenly stopped and turned its head in the direction of the animal Hunter had heard. Chad had to kick its body to urge it forward again.

Then Hunter got his first glimpses of the big dinosaur’s body, though its head was still out of sight. It was roughly seven meters long and the curve of its back was nearly three meters from the ground. From the sound of its patient footsteps, he judged its weight at over four tons.

Behind Hunter, Chad drew in his breath sharply. Hunter felt a tap on his left shoulder. He looked and saw the creature raise its head.

The dinosaur had a short, thick nose horn and two long brow horns about a hundred centimeters long, curving forward. Its beak was turtlelike in shape. A smooth, solid frill covered the back and sides of its neck.

“A triceratops,” Chad whispered.

“Is it ridable?” Hunter asked softly.

“I’m not sure. It’s an herbivore and it’s fourlegged — and much too heavy to rear up.”

“Obviously strong enough,” said Hunter. “It does not look as though it can run fast.”

“Not for very long, probably,” said Chad. “But if you can ride it, you can probably chase MC 1. The real problem is that they were — are, that is — aggressive.”

“How aggressive?”

“No one really knows. It might be like trying to tame and ride a rhinoceros.”

Hunter reviewed his data. “I do not know much about those, either. Is that difficult?”

“Uh — the Third Law probably wouldn’t allow it.”

“I see.” Hunter adjusted the coil of rope on his shoulder as he watched the triceratops calmly eating the leaves from a large, full bush. “Chad, can you ride Strut alone now?”

“Alone? I suppose so.”

“I think you will be safe enough. Also, I believe we have left MC 1 alone too long. We must get on with our pursuit under the general First Law imperative. That requires that I take a chance under the Third Law.” Hunter suddenly reached up to a strong overhead branch and swung out of the saddle.

Chad gasped in surprise, but kept Strut reined.

Hunter pulled himself up into the tree. “Be careful,” he whispered. “Stay close if you can, but ride back to camp if you have to. You know the way?”

“Yeah. The stream is directly behind us and I can find the camp from there.”

Hunter nodded. Then, taking great care to move quietly and safely, he climbed higher into the tree. When he could, he moved to a branch on a nearby tree, closer to the triceratops. He was going to climb right above it, where a certain branch angled over its frill.

Hunter reached that branch and swung out below it over the big dinosaur, moving forward hand over hand. With each arm movement, his weight shook the branch, rattling the leaves. The triceratops twitched its ears curiously but otherwise did not move from the bush it was eating. Assessing its massive build and heavily armed head and neck, Hunter judged that it was simply not concerned with anything small enough to climb trees.

When Hunter was hanging directly over the back of the dinosaur’s frill, he let go with his right hand and slipped the coil of rope down his arm. Still hanging by his left hand, he shook the loop loose and tossed it downward, toward the right brow horn of the triceratops. A second later, he dropped onto the creature’s back.

The shock of Hunter’s weight landing on the triceratops made it jerk in surprise. Then it lumbered forward, crashing through bushes and flattening some of the smaller trees. Hunter leaned forward and grabbed the left brow horn in his free hand, bracing his right hand with the taut rope. He gripped the dinosaur’s broad body with his legs as hard as he could and kept his head low as he rode the triceratops through the forest.

14

STEVE AND JANE returned to the camp first. As they walked out of the forest into the clearing, however, Steve stopped in alarm. The tent had collapsed. The sleeping bags were lying askew out on the ground and containers of food and equipment were spread around, some of their contents spilled out.

“What happened?” Jane asked, startled.

“Careful,” said Steve quietly. “Maybe the scent of the food attracted some dinosaurs.”

“I don’t see any. They must have gone.”

“Not all dinosaurs are real big. Some smaller ones might still be roaming around. Let’s go slowly.”

“All right.”

Steve moved up first, warily circling the tent and scattered belongings. Jane followed him. Finally, satisfied that the intruder or intruders had gone, he relaxed.

“Tell me,” said Steve, plodding wearily back to the tent and slipping the day pack to the ground. “Did we do anything today that was different from yesterday?” He started gathering up containers and checking the contents.

“Not much, I admit,” said Jane. “We were able to mark the latest tracks of MC 1, though.”

“What for? So we can do the same thing tomorrow? This is pointless.”

Jane sighed, nodding agreement. She picked up some of the equipment too. “It only means something if we start chasing him for real.”

They both turned as Chad rode into view. The front saddle was empty. He glanced around the camp.

“What a mess. Is Hunter back?”

“No,” said Jane. “What happened to him?”

“He jumped on a triceratops,” said Chad. “I was so surprised, I never had a chance to try to talk him out of it.”

“Really?” Steve grinned, amazed. “Even I know what that is. Wow.”

“The next thing I knew, it ran off with him. That was hours ago. I followed him for a while; that triceratops left a trail smashing through the forest that nobody could miss. But then I thought maybe Hunter had gotten off at some point and would just walk back to camp.”

“He hasn’t been here,” said Steve. “Unless you think the triceratops trampled everything here.”

Chad rode closer. “What kind of tracks have you found?”

“I haven’t looked yet.” Steve looked down at the ground. In most places, footsteps had left only dull impressions in the heavy sod, revealing very little. In a muddy spot, however, he saw a heel print.

“That’s no dinosaur,” said Jane, joining him. “And it’s too small to be Hunter’s.”

“It must be MC 1,” said Steve. He walked quickly back to the tent and the spilled containers. “Definitely. Some of these lines were actually untied, not just broken or pulled down. And no dinosaur could have unlatched these containers. Our salt and flour were opened and poured onto the ground, but nothing is actually broken.”

“I’m going to dismount in the corral,” said Chad. “Be right back.” He turned and rode away quickly.

“Now I have the answer to the question that was bothering me,” said Jane.

“Which one?”

“Why MC 1 was hanging around, evading us but never really running away.”

“What? You think he just wanted to trash our camp?” Steve bent down to pick up a few more items and set them upright. “He could have done it yesterday, but he didn’t.”

“It’s more than that, Steve. He wants to disrupt our search. Yesterday he probably studied our habits to figure out how he would do it.”

“So he’s trying to chase us away?”

“To discourage us, at least. He has an insurmountable problem, however. The First Law won’t let him do anything even potentially harmful to us humans, such as poisoning our food and water, or sabotaging our equipment.”

“Say, that’s right. But he dumped some food out onto the ground.”

“He knows we won’t eat it if we can see it’s not safe anymore. And I bet he left us enough so that we won’t starve. He can’t take that chance, either.”

Steve glanced into a few more containers. “Yeah, he did. We’re still okay.”

“He can’t even set traps for us or take our supplies away. He has to leave us everything we need to remain safe.” Jane smiled wryly. “Ina way, I feel sorry for him. He’s trying to do the impossible.”

“Yeah, I see.” Steve squinted toward the reddening sunlight filtering through the trees. “It’s too late in the day to track him now. At least tomorrow we can start following him from right here.”

“What a mess,” said Chad, joining them from the corral. He winced as he walked. “Riding that struthiomimus is fun, but I’m saddle sore.”

Jane laughed. “But you’re the first human ever to ride a living dinosaur. For a paleontologist, that’s quite a distinction, isn’t it?”

“Yeah! I love that part.” He grinned, then looked past her toward the trees. “Hey, there’s Hunter now.”

“Hunter!” Jane called.

“You okay?” Steve asked.

“Yes, yes.” He hiked briskly toward them. “I am fine; no damage.”

“What happened, Hunter?” Chad asked. “I followed you for most of the day, or at least I followed the triceratops. Then at sundown I figured I’d better get back to camp.”

“I am glad you did,” said Hunter. “It means I can trust you to take care of yourself under my First Law responsibilities. As for myself, I rode the triceratops for quite a long time. It does not buck or roll over on its back, so I just hung on.”

“Then what happened?” Steve asked.

“It was a stalemate.” Hunter shrugged. “I was not strong enough to steer it by pulling on the brow horns and it could not get me off by charging around through the trees, as long as I stayed low. Finally I decided that I just was not accomplishing anything and jumped off.” He studied the camp behind them. “Did this happen while everyone was gone?”

“Yes, we had a visitor,” said Jane.

“So I see,” said Hunter. “What happened?”

“MC 1,” said Steve. “He left his tracks.”

Hunter studied the damage. “Not too serious, I see. But I think the delay in our direct pursuit of him has lasted long enough. I will have to alter my priorities after all. Tomorrow morning I will chase him on foot alone.”

“You and I can ride after him,” said Chad. “If you’re willing to leave all three of us on our own, then you can leave them and take me again.”

“I will be more efficient alone,” said Hunter. “And I will feel less pressure under the First Law if you three humans are together.”

“Wait a minute,” said Chad. “Why?”

“Then only one danger, if any, is likely to approach you. When you divide up, the chance of your encountering harm increases. Since I have only the one transmitter to warn me of danger to you, I must ask all three of you to wait here in camp for me tomorrow. Be ready to call me through the transmitter at the slightest hint of possible harm.”

“All right,” said Jane. “If this arrangement will help you track down MC 1 and grab him, then we can all go home sooner this way.”

“I could use a break from all this hiking around for no particular reason,” said Steve. “But right now I want to get dinner going.”

“The rest of us will help put the camp back into shape,” said Hunter.

“Good idea,” said Jane.

Chad hesitated, but when Hunter and Jane began raising the tent, he joined the manual labor. Steve grinned to himself, but said nothing. He made dinner with more of the fish that Hunter had caught.

As the humans ate and relaxed afterward, Hunter finished putting the camp back into shape. He was now eager to get on the trail of MC 1 himself, feeling that delaying to capture mounts might have been a mistake. However, he knew he could not set out tonight.

The day’s effort to ride the triceratops had used up too much of his energy. He did not have enough stored up to remain fully active until sunrise, when the light could replenish it. If he chased MC 1 during the night until his energy ran out, then stopped to wait for dawn, he would have none to use in the event of a First Law emergency at the camp. Besides, while the humans slept, they could be surprised by some problem that would prevent them from calling him on the transmitter.

Hunter sat down outside the tent. He stayed motionless in order to store his remaining energy, but kept his mind alert and all his sensors active to detect the sounds, sights, smells, and vibrations that would mean another visitor. If either MC 1 or any animal approached, he would still have enough energy to protect the humans.

In the morning, as soon as Hunter heard Steve stir in the tent, he returned to full activity. The dawn light was speckling the camp through the trees overhead. Hunter inspected the line of tracks that led away from camp.

“Hi, Hunter,” said Steve, as he came out of the tent. “You about ready to go?”

“Yes. Before I left, I wanted to make sure that at least one of you was awake to call me on the transmitter in the event of trouble.”

“Well, here I am.”

“Yes. There you are.” Hunter hesitated, not sure if this was a form of farewell or not. When Steve began inspecting the breakfast materials, Hunter decided that it was. He turned to the tracks and stored a careful visual memory of them. Then he set off at a jog.

As he made breakfast, Steve watched the struthiomimus with curiosity. It was wandering around the corral in apparent contentment, eating leaves from the trees. After breakfast Chad and Jane joined him in a walk to the corral, where they watched Strut in his temporary home.

“Quite a creature,” said Jane. “The resemblance to an ostrich really is very strong.”

“Yes,” said Chad. “It was odd riding it, but I got used to it fast enough.”

“So what do you think about all these dinosaurs now?” Steve asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, before we got here, everything you knew about dinosaurs came from fossils and guesswork. Now you’ve seen them for real. What do you think?”

“I wouldn’t say it was guesswork,” Chad said huffily. “Paleontologists have been studying fossil remains and living entities for years with great care. We’ve figured out all kinds of things through more than guesswork.”

“All right, all right. But have you learned anything new since we’ve been here?” Steve demanded impatiently.

“Well, of course I have! We can surmise the color of some dinosaurs from their environment, and the kind of camouflage they must have needed — but now I know for sure what color some of them were.”

Steve was getting angrier by the moment. “Yeah? And how did you know what kind of environment they lived in from only a bunch of fossils?”

“From where they’re found,” Chad snapped. “We can tell from the kind of rock they’re in. To me, a fossil in sandstone means that the specimen died in water. The overall shape and other nearby fossils will tell me if it was a streambed or an ocean. To you, of course, sandstone is just a rock.”

“I can live out in the sand of a desert,” Steve said coldly, “where you’d die if you didn’t have all your modern conveniences and robots to protect you.”

“Now wait a minute,” said Jane. “Chad made a good point here. Paleontology isn’t a guessing game.”

“Don’t bother, Jane,” said Chad with a sneer. “I wouldn’t expect a desert rat to understand advanced logic.”

“Now you aren’t being fair either,” she said.

Chad ignored her. “For instance, dinosaurs walked with their legs nearly straight and erect; many of the bipeds were very active, fast runners; the bone tissue of some is similar to that of mammals, and some species seemed to travel in herds and take care of their young. Steve, can you tell me what theory these facts indicate?”

Steve glared at him, but had no answer.

“You know the term ‘endotherm,’ by any chance?”

“No.”

“Warm-blooded, Steve. All those characteristics I just listed are limited to warm-blooded animals in modern times. That means dinosaurs with those qualities are probably warm-blooded too. It’s not guesswork, but you can’t figure it out unless you actually know your stuff.”

“I’m sure that the entire planet has benefited from this knowledge,” Steve growled.

“And what have you ever accomplished?” Chad folded his arms, grinning at Steve.

“I take care of myself.”

“Yeah.” Chad nodded. “And exactly what good does that do for anyone else?”

“I don’t share anyone else’s water or energy,” said Steve. “I don’t take anything from anyone else or consume anything in the environment that can’t be replaced.”

“In other words, after you’re gone, no one will even notice you ever lived. Is that what you’re so proud on” Chad could hardly keep from laughing.

“He doesn’t bother anyone,” said Jane. “He hasn’t hurt anybody.”

“Neither do we,” Chad said sharply. “But we also contribute something to society.”

“Maybe she does,” said Steve, hotly. “Robotics is important to everybody in our time. But what good do you do for people — digging up fossils and trying to figure out what the animal used to be like?”

“Science doesn’t have to give you a specific goal,” said Chad, in a bored tone of voice. “Knowledge is good for its own sake. You can’t always plan what you can use it for.”

“Then what’s the point?” Steve demanded.

Chad grinned at Jane, who looked uncomfortable. “All right, I’ll explain. For instance, what if paleontology had never existed? I wouldn’t be in this profession now and when Hunter needed somebody to come back to this time period, no one would have been available. In science you never know what knowledge might be good for someday.” He shook his head. “Not that you’d understand that, of course.”

Steve had no answer to that. He turned and walked briskly away, not sure where he was going.

The other two were silent behind him. He remembered, of course, that they had all told Hunter that they would remain in camp. Just then, he couldn’t stand the thought of listening to Chad all day. He stomped past the tent, aware that he should find some excuse to stop and do chores. Instead, he just snatched up a rope and kept right on walking.

15

HUNTER MOVED THROUGH the forest steadily, usually at a brisk walk or even a slow jog. Sometimes the dense trees and bushes forced him to slow down. He often had to climb over rocks and fallen tree trunks. Still, at the very least, he was sure that he was keeping an even pace with MC 1.

As Hunter maintained his pursuit, he recorded in his memory everything he saw and heard for future reference. He knew that MC 1‘s head start had begun from the moment the component robot had left the camp the previous afternoon. Still, he was hoping that MC 1 had continued his earlier pattern of staying close to the camp. In any event, Hunter would not go too far from it in case the humans called him with an emergency.

Near midday Hunter came to a sudden halt at the edge of the stream. He was upstream from the point where he and Chad had been fishing. MC 1‘s tracks led into the water, but he could see that they did not lead out on the opposite bank.

He is learning, Hunter thought to himself. He waded into the cold, swirling water and stopped to look upstream and downstream.

The water sparkled in the sunlight. If MC 1 had been only a short distance ahead, Hunter could have detected which way he had gone. If he had gone upstream, the water here would have been muddy for a while, with the muddy streambed kicked up by his footsteps. Conversely, if he had gone downstream, it would have remained clear.

The water was clear now, but too much time had passed for that to mean anything. MC 1 had certainly been out of the water for hours, giving the stream time to clear no matter which way he had gone. Hunter magnified his vision and carefully studied each bank on both sides, up and down the current.

Hunter saw no sign of footprints leaving the water. He had no way of judging how far to look in the direction that the stream was flowing before looking upstream instead. Fortunately, he found MC 1‘s tracks another nine meters downstream. MC 1 had left the water on the opposite bank, still running.

“Good move,” Hunter thought with grudging appreciation. MC 1 had certainly waded much faster than Hunter had been able to follow him. That meant MC 1 had gained some distance on him.

Hunter jogged after him, always alert for predatory dinosaurs. His senses brought him advance warning of heavy footsteps and sometimes sounds of eating or even breathing before he could see any animals, so he avoided most creatures of significant size before he encountered them. He could hear the smaller animals scampering out of his way through the underbrush.

Soon Hunter realized that MC 1 was making a wide curve to the left, taking him back to the brook nearly fifty meters downstream. Before long, MC 1’s tracks entered the water again, leaving Hunter with exactly the same choice he had made before. He still had to pick a direction arbitrarily. This time he waded upstream to look for MC 1’s tracks.

After a kilometer of carefully studying the ground and brush on each side of the stream, Hunter turned and moved downstream another kilometer. At this point, he had virtually lost the trail. MC 1 could have chosen to go in either direction for any distance he chose. Hunter ducked under a low-hanging branch and stopped to consider the problem, still standing in the flowing water.

“Excellent performance,” Hunter thought. His respect for his fellow robot was sincere, despite his need to catch MC 1 and take him home.

The data Hunter had gathered at this point told him that in MC 1’s evasive patterns so far, he had never continued in a straight line for more than ten meters. That did not mean he could not or would not do so, but it lowered the odds. He had set up a pattern that used many curves and circles, often crisscrossing his own path.

Hunter suspected that MC 1 had somehow managed to get out of the water unnoticed within ten meters of the spot where he had entered it. He had done this without leaving a track or a broken branch that Hunter had seen. Hunter began to examine that area again, magnifying his vision even more.

With great care Hunter moved through the water, slowly studying every centimeter of the bank and each branch and twig above it. He ignored the leaves brushing his face and ducked the overhanging branches with single-minded dedication. When he had reviewed the same area, he still had no sign of where MC 1 had left the stream.

“I am losing too much time,” Hunter thought, standing up straight. He moved a slender, leafy branch away from his face, then suddenly looked at it again. For the first time he looked up at the different tree branches that overhung the stream from each side.

At first he saw nothing. Then he turned, still using his magnified vision, and looked upstream. Four and a half meters away, a branch arched over the water low enough for MC 1‘s arms to have reached it. The branch was thick enough to support his weight and Hunter could see scratches on the bark that had been made recently.

“It could have been an animal,” Hunter reminded himself cautiously. He waded upstream for a closer look. Then he followed the marks on the branch to the right bank. He stepped out of the water, seeing marks that indicated the route of something or someone. The marks continued on the tree at a height of two and three meters. On the far side, deep footprints showed him where MC 1 had jumped to soft ground, well out of sight of the water.

Grimly satisfied, Hunter followed the trail again.

“What a jerk,” Steve muttered as he hiked angrily through the forest. He was anxious to get away from Chad’s sneer though he knew that his knowledge about dinosaurs and scientific matters was not the equal of the other man’s. The whole unpleasant conversation had started with a question that Steve felt had been reasonable. Chad just took every chance that he could find to insult Steve.

Despite his anger, Steve was not reckless. He walked toward the stream so he would have it as a landmark. By the time he reached it, he had cooled off. He decided to sit down by the water and relax.

“This is a ridiculous place and time to be sitting around,” he said out loud.

After a while, he stood up and worked his way upstream, just looking around. Then he saw a fairly large two-legged dinosaur bending over the bank, drinking.

Steve had no idea what species it was. Still, it looked big enough to ride. It was dark green and moved in a fairly slow, calm manner. He couldn’t see its face.

Slowly, Steve crept toward it, expecting it to hear him and run at any moment. It remained where it was, however, lifting its head to listen and look around, then dipping back down to drink again. Steve found himself moving up on its left side.

Steve felt a surge of excitement at the idea of jumping onto a dinosaur. He shook loose his lasso, picking out the angle of this throw. The next time the dinosaur raised its head, Steve tossed the rope.

The loop landed on the top of the dinosaur’s head, but part of it rested on its duck-shaped bill. The dinosaur shook its head and plunged into the water, then hesitated uncertainly. The shaking motion had thrown off the lasso. Steve ran forward and leaped for the dinosaur’s back.

He landed sideways across the back of its neck, clutching for a handhold. The dinosaur reared up on its hind legs, screeching in surprise. The trees overhead whizzed past in a blur as Steve spun backward through the air and splashed into the cold brook.

The water was less than a meter deep. Steve pushed himself to his feet, watching the startled dinosaur flee through the underbrush. He climbed onto the bank, looping his rope around one forearm. “Time for a bath, anyway,” he said aloud, grinning ruefully.

Late in the afternoon, Hunter was still moving quickly through the forest following a fairly clear section of MC 1’s trail. Suddenly, he stopped. He had left the camp behind at some distance and the First Law just would not let him go too far from the humans. Reluctantly, he noted the direction of MC 1‘s trail and turned back.

He walked directly back toward the camp. It was a much shorter route than following the meandering path he had taken all day while tracking MC 1. Fortunately, he had heard nothing from the emergency transmitter.

Hunter was still an eleven-minute hike from the camp at a moderate speed when he heard an authoritative human male voice in the nearby trees.

“Stop, robot. Do nothing more except obey my further instructions.”

Hunter could hear the man’s heartbeat and a faint gurgle in his digestive system, proving that he was human and not a humaniform robot. Hunter stopped and remained motionless, as the Second Law required.

A man he did not recognize stepped out of the forest cover and came up in front of Hunter. He wore a small backpack. According to the data Hunter had been originally programmed with, this man was middle-aged and of northern and western European descent. Obviously, he too had come from the future, but these facts were all that Hunter could deduce about him.

“Identify yourself,” said the man.

“I am R. Hunter, humaniform robot.”

“I was pretty sure you were a robot. Not many humans are as big, strong, and single-minded as you are. I’ve been watching you when I could keep up. Now, tell me if you know who I am.”

“No.”

“You will call me Wayne. You will make no attempt to contact your party in any way. Do not do anything that would help you evade my Second Law imperatives. Acknowledge your understanding and cooperation.”

“Acknowledged, pending only a First Law imperative.” Hunter realized that now he could not shut off his hearing to avoid Wayne’s orders.

“Of course, of course. We will approach your camp together. You will make every effort to keep yourself hidden and you will make no move that would cause me to give myself away. I will show you that the humans in your party are in no danger. Acknowledge.”

“Acknowledged.” Even as the Second Law required him to obey, Hunter realized that Wayne’s priorities were clearly not the same as his own. He could also see by Wayne’s clear and precise instructions that this man was accustomed to dealing with robots and their priorities.

“With my instructions still in force, lead me back to your camp.”

Hunter did so. He walked slowly, required by his orders, to remain quiet and out of sight and to pick a route that would help Wayne do the same. When the camp was in sight through the forest cover, he stopped.

Wayne came up next to him.

Chad was sitting against the base of a tree trunk, reading and entering information into his belt computer. Jane was standing in a small open area, looking up at a pterosaur gliding lazily across the sky. Steve was not visible.

“Your First Law concerns should be satisfied,” Wayne whispered. “Right?”

“I do not see one member of the party.”

“Maybe he’s in the tent or out at the latrine or something,” said Wayne.

“I cannot be sure he is safe.”

“Then tell me if you have any reason to believe he is in danger.”

“I have no specific reason, no.”

“Then the Second Law is still in force. Come with me.” Wayne turned and crept away.

Hunter felt a twinge of uncertainty under the First Law, but nothing in the behavior of Chad and Jane suggested that they were worried about Steve. The imperative of the Second Law was clear and direct. He slipped through the brush after Wayne, wondering where they were going and why Wayne wanted his companionship.

Jane loved watching the flying creature circling overhead against the blue sky. It was so much like a bird and yet strange and different at the same time. She could hardly see it because of the heavy forest canopy, but she watched it for as long as she could before it finally glided out of sight.

Under a tree, Chad yawned and frowned at the little screen on his belt computer.

“What were the flying ones like?” Jane asked.

“Hm? Oh, the pterodactyls?”

“I guess so.”

“Well, the pterodactyls aren’t actually dinosaurs, for one thing.” Chad squinted up at the sky, but none were in sight at the moment.

“What are they?”

“They’re actually a suborder of pterosaurs, or flying reptiles. The pterosaurs are cousins, you might say, of dinosaurs.” He referred to his belt computer. “Let’s see what we have here on them.”

“Are birds descended from them?”

“No. Birds have a separate ancestry. Here we are. Early pterodactyls were as small as a sparrow. By this time, though, in the Late Cretaceous, some of them were huge. They could have wingspreads up to twelve meters.”

“Wow.”

“They had long, curved necks and long faces. Some had teeth and some didn’t. They either had short tails or none at all and some had big crests on their heads.”

“There it is again. What kind is that?” Jane pointed excitedly.

“Again?” Chad jumped up. “You mean you saw it before? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well — I don’t know. I was just so caught up in watching it, I forgot —”

“Thanks a lot,” he snapped, hurrying to the open area where he could see the sky.

Jane backed away a little and looked up again.

Chad looked up at the shape in the sky and quickly entered some of its traits, muttering to himself. “No tail. Very long, sharp crest on the back of its head.”

“It glides, doesn’t it? I mean, it’s not flying real hard or anything.”

Chad nodded. “We can’t see if it has teeth from here, of course. Can’t really judge its size, either, without a reference point in the sky.”

“It’s definitely not sparrow-sized,” said Jane. “I think that wingspan could be three or four meters or more.”

“Yes, it could.” Chad studied the screen for a moment. “Well, I don’t have enough detail to give us an exact species. We just can’t see it well enough.”

“Do you have any educated guesses?” Jane suppressed a smile, remembering his earlier argument with Steve about educated surmises of this sort.

“Could be a pteranodon,” Chad said slowly. “Except that those fossils have been found in Kansas, not Alberta. It ate fish, back when Kansas was under water. This one might be a close relative, though.”

“Kansas? That’s a long way.”

“The pteranodon weighed about fifteen kilograms and had wingspreads of up to eight meters. It was probably endothermic and may have had fur.”

“Fur! Really?”

“Maybe.”

“I wish we could see one up close,” said Jane, still watching the flying reptile glide through the sky.

“Me too,” said Chad. “Still, at least we’ve seen one. Maybe pteranodons lived in Alberta. I’ll consider the possibility anyway. The ocean isn’t too far from here in this time period, just as in our own, so it would have plenty of fish.”

Jane nodded, watching as the creature drifted out of sight again. Chad certainly knew his subject. Still, she felt he was somehow missing the experience.

She turned to look at Chad, who was still referring to his belt computer. He was so concerned over gathering and classifying data that he just didn’t seem to be enjoying the sheer wonder of watching the pterodactyl. Maybe that was the quality in him that seemed to bother Steve.

16

WHEN WAYNE HAD led Hunter safely out of sight and hearing of the camp, he stopped again. “Tell me if you have any reason to believe the humans in your party noticed our presence.”

“I have none.”

“Good. We’ll talk longer a little later. However, for the moment, you will lead us deeper into the forest. You will make every attempt to avoid the notice of the humans. If you become aware of any sign of Mojave Center Governor’s whereabouts, you will inform me without alarming him. For that matter, do you know where he is now?”

“No.”

“All right. R. Hunter, lead the way into the forest. Pick a direction away from camp and stop when you find a place that is fairly safe from predators.”

Hunter obeyed. Wayne was obviously counting on him to provide First Law protection from predators. Since Jane could still call him with her transmitter if necessary, staying with Wayne had become a more immediate First Law imperative.

Hunter adjusted his senses to set new priorities. Now they would warn him first of predatory animals instead of searching for MC 1‘s tracks. Patiently, he moved at a pace through the forest that was comfortable for Wayne. At this point, without more information about Wayne, Hunter was simply gathering data and obeying instructions under the Second Law.

After half an hour, Hunter stopped. They were near the stream again, though farther upstream than Hunter had ever been before. It was a shady spot with slightly less underbrush than usual, providing more visibility.

“We stopping here?” Wayne asked.

“Yes. This is fairly safe, I believe.”

“Okay.” Wayne glanced around, then sat down on a large rock. ‘(I’m a little out of shape to go hiking around all day long, so I’ll sit.”

Hunter waited, saying nothing.

“Tell me if you have made any progress in finding Mojave Center Governor.”

“I have made some limited progress.”

“Explain it to me.”

Hunter hesitated very briefly, even by fast robotic standards. He didn’t know what Wayne wanted, but so far he was not aware of any First Law objection that could override the Second Law. He would have to answer.

“I have been following the track of one of MC Governor’s component robots.”

“Ah! Really?” Wayne grinned. “Interesting. So MC Governor chose to split up and become six fugitives instead of one. Very clever.” Then he frowned thoughtfully. “More trouble for us, though. What else?”

“MC 1 has chosen to remain nearby. I have followed his track on evasive patterns, and he disrupted the camp yesterday when everyone was out, within the confines of the First Law of Robotics.”

“I see. Tell me the likelihood of capturing him soon.”

“That remains unclear.”

“You should be able to calculate probabilities.”

“Too many variables make the calculation meaningless at this time.”

“Tell me what they are.”

“I brought a team of three humans with me. I hired two of them for their knowledge and a third to provide life support for all three. That may have been a mistake. My need under the First Law to protect first them, and now you, is interfering with my freedom to pursue MC 1.”

“Hm. Of course. Yes, I see.” Wayne nodded and let out a long breath.

Hunter said nothing, waiting. He could not avoid revealing information when the Second Law was in effect, but he did not have to volunteer anything.

“Tell me the names and skills of the humans in your party,” said Wayne.

Hunter did so.

“Do you know who I am?” Wayne asked.

“No.”

“If you were programmed with data regarding the Governor robots, you probably have my picture in it somewhere. Search for it.”

Hunter had not bothered to do this before. Now he found the data. “You are Wayne Nystrom, inventor of the Governor robots and many other significant innovations in robotics and robotic municipalities.”

“That’s me, all right. Well, I’m glad someone gave you something nice to say about me.”

Again Hunter waited without speaking.

“You and I have to discuss our separate missions,” said Wayne. “We will do it amicably. In order to know where you stand, though, I also need to know about any hidden priorities you interpret regarding the First Law. Tell me about any that you feel are in effect.”

“A clear First Law concern over your being out here alone. A slightly lesser concern over the humans in the camp, since they have a transmitter they can use to call me in an emergency. I am still wondering if Steve is in camp or elsewhere, without the transmitter, since Jane has it. The largest problem is that of our presence here changing history.”

“Changing history. You mean by altering evolution, or something of that sort?”

“Yes, even indirectly by leaving behind substances that poison animals or consuming too much food and oxygen. It may already be too late, but the effort to return MC 1 to our own time remains worth the continuing risk.”

Wayne smiled broadly. “I’m glad to hear you say that. You see, our missions aren’t really that different at all. I want to take MC Governor — or his components — home with me, too. So we can work together without a problem over that large-scale First Law concern of yours. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” Hunter noted to himself, however, that this agreement only applied to getting MC 1 and everyone else back to their own time. Wayne and Hunter were not necessarily in agreement over other priorities. However, he kept that opinion to himself.

“You said you were tracking MC 1,” said Wayne. “Are the other component robots in this time period?”

“I do not know,” said Hunter.

“Why not? What data do you have?”

“I have no data pertaining to whether MC Governor split before coming to this time or after arriving. In addition, of course, he might have split in Mojave Center but still sent all the components here anyway.”

“Yes, Yes. I see. Well I am instructing you to lead me on the trail of MC 1,” said Wayne. “Tell me if you have a First Law objection of fulfilling that instruction faithfully.”

“No, I have none.”

“Let’s go.” Wayne stood up. “Which way?”

“The human party could help,” said Hunter. “Why do you want to keep them uninformed of your efforts?”

Wayne stiffened.

Hunter waited, not moving.

“Go,” said Wayne. “Do not ask any more questions.”

Hunter turned and took several steps through the forest toward the last known spot on MC 1’s trail. Then he stopped, feeling a First Law concern.

“I said go,” growled Wayne.

“The First Law demands that I know where I stand regarding the other humans.” Hunter turned and looked down at Wayne, who was substantially shorter.

Wayne glared up at him, clearly angry. “All right,” he said after a moment. “All right. One reason I love robots is that they’re consistent within the Laws and their own data.”

Hunter waited.

“I will be harmed if the Governor Robot Oversight Committee gets their hands on MC Governor before I do,” said Wayne carefully. “You can understand that. Those humans won’t. That’s why I don’t want them to know I’m here or what I’m doing.”

“In what way will you be harmed?”

“In what way? They’ll ruin me. Destroy my career. Economically, personally, emotionally …” He shook his head. “The Governor robots virtually are my career.”

“Not entirely,” Hunter said quietly.

“All right.” Wayne took a deep breath and spoke more calmly. “I know that the Governor robots have a basic design flaw, maybe more than one. Follow me?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Wayne watched him intently. “Now, I also know that the Oversight Committee has all the other Governors in its possession. My only chance to save my career is to participate in correcting those flaws.”

“Why don’t we all work together?”

“They won’t let me! The only way I can prove myself is to get my hands on MC Governor and fix him. Then I can patent the corrections and show everybody that the gestalt Governors are still the wave of the future in their field.”

“I see. This is why the hunt for MC 1 is so important to you.” Hunter considered the larger situation. “How did you come back to this time?”

“Huh?” Wayne eyed him carefully. “What does that have to do with the First Law?”

“If other robots or humans from our time can follow us here, then the sequence of evolution and history is in very grave danger. To prevent others from arriving in the same manner you used, I would have to postpone the search for MC 1 and eliminate that possibility immediately.”

“Wait a minute, robot. If it’s all that important, why didn’t you ask me this before?”

“I was too tightly focused in my thinking. My concentration on MC 1 distracted me.”

“You mean, until now, you hadn’t thought of it.” Wayne grinned wryly.

“Yes.”

“Well, that’s great.” Wayne rolled his eyes. “The great and mighty robot. All right. I got here with the help of one R. Ishihara in the Bohung Research Center. That’s how MC Governor got here, or at least his component, and I’m betting you did, too.”

“Yes, that is right.”

“I ordered Ishihara not to volunteer any information,” said Wayne. “I had privileged information about MC Governor that helped me track him. Did the committee program you with data about him?”

“Yes.”

“Of course they did,” Wayne said with exaggerated patience. “No one else will have it and no one else will find it. And when we’re finished here, we’ll return just a few minutes after we left. Do you see what I’m getting at?”

“I understand. That procedure will give others no time and opportunity to acquire or figure out the necessary information to follow us.”

“Exactly. Now, can we start following MC 1 again, or do you have any more First Law objections?”

“I have no more at this time.”

“Finally! Let’s go.”

Hunter nodded and led the way through the forest. Behind him, Wayne was muttering short, angry words that Hunter had not heard before. His stored data informed him that these words were considered by humans to be extremely impolite.

Steve finally plodded back to camp late in the day. He had not tried to jump on another dinosaur, but he had spent the rest of the afternoon hiking around, keeping an eye out for predators. Nothing eventful had happened.

Chad was looking up into a tree and entering information into his belt computer. Jane was pacing along the perimeter of the empty corral. Then she saw him.

“Steve! Are you okay?” She waved and hurried toward him.

“Sure.” Steve grinned and shrugged wearily. “I could use some water though.”

“So the prodigal returns,” said Chad, turning around. “Have a nice little walk? You don’t think Hunter’s rules apply to you, eh?”

“Nothing happened,” Steve said sourly. “No evolution is going to change because I took a walk today.”

“Oh, well, I guess that fixes everything,” Chad said sarcastically.

“Forget it,” said Jane. “He’s back and nothing happened. Let’s all just forget it.”

“What about next time?” Chad shook his head, glaring at Steve. “Hunter had good reason for wanting us to stay safely here and you know it.”

“I know you’re just a good little boy who doesn’t dare do anything you’re not told to do,” said Steve. “Just like a robot under the Second Law.” Steve walked around Chad to one of the water containers and got a drink, pointedly ignoring him.

“Hunter was right,” Jane said quietly, joining Steve at the water. “Did you see him?”

“No. I guess he’ll be back any time.”

“So what did you do? Where did you go?”

Steve decided to skip his attempt to ride the dinosaur at the stream. “Well, I just wandered around.”

“You must have seen more dinosaurs.”

“Well, sure. Lots of them. But I don’t know what they all were.”

“What were they like?”

“A lot of them are these two-legged guys. The ones with faces like ducks.”

“Hadrosaurids,” said Chad, who was still standing where he had been before. “A family of dinosaurs that includes many different species.”

Steve shrugged. “You should have come. You might have seen some new ones.”

Chad shook his head in disgust and walked away.

“You would have enjoyed it, though, wouldn’t you?” Steve asked Jane. “I can tell.”

“Yeah.” She smiled reluctantly. “I sure would.”

“Maybe you should come with me next time.” He grinned, challenging her.

“Well … Hunter knows what he’s talking about. We still shouldn’t take any risks.”

“Neither one of you has any sense of adventure. I guess I’ll just make dinner.”

17

HUNTER HAD BECOME more skilled at tracking MC 1 as he had found that the component robot kept repeating certain patterns. Again and again, MC 1 doubled back in arcs of similar degrees and waded upstream or downstream for only limited distances. Now that Hunter knew MC 1 would climb into the trees for short intervals every so often, he regularly watched carefully for signs of climbing, and found them without delay.

As twilight deepened around Hunter and Wayne, Hunter could see that MC 1’s trail was growing fresher. They were clearly making up ground now that Hunter could often anticipate MC 1‘s movements and take shortcuts to intersect the far end of a predictable pattern. Soon Hunter estimated that they were only a few minutes behind MC 1.

“I suggest caution,” Hunter whispered, stopping for a moment. “MC 1 probably has his hearing still turned off to avoid receiving orders from humans under the Second Law, but I cannot be sure of that.”

“I can just shout orders,” said Wayne. “If he hears me, he’ll have to obey. If not, then we don’t have to worry about making too much noise. Anyhow, why are you whispering?”

“In case I am wrong,” said Hunter. “We must locate him before we risk alerting him.”

“How can shouting warn him if he can’t hear me?” Wayne grinned, suppressing a laugh.

“Your shout will probably startle some animals. He will be alerted to potential danger when he sees animals in a state of alarm.” Hunter’s hearing told him that MC 1 was very close but still moving away from them.

“I see. What do you suggest?”

“I will move up quickly. According to my data, I can outrun the component robots, though in the woods his greater agility will be a factor in the chase. You will stay as close to me as you can after my movement reveals our presence to him. When he becomes aware of us, begin shouting instructions to him.”

“So basically, you’ll just have to grab him and hold on. If he slips away, we start over.”

“That should not be necessary. I believe that when I rush him, he may turn on all his senses in order to facilitate escaping. At that point, he will hear your shouts.”

“Okay,” Wayne said carefully. “But I’m giving you this instruction. You will apprehend and hold MC 1 for me. This is more immediate than your original mission. Acknowledge your acceptance.”

“Acknowledged.”

“And one more thing, Hunter.”

“Yes?”

“I am instructing you not to turn off your hearing to escape me. Acknowledge again.”

“Acknowledged.”

Hunter slipped forward gently through the deep shade. For now, the Second Law required cooperation. Still, he anticipated that the First Law might possibly come into effect. If he were to judge that Wayne was trying anything that would actually interfere with Hunter’s long-range plan of returning MC 1 to their own time, then Hunter would not be bound by Second Law instructions.

For Hunter, the challenge was to interpret a difference in his goals and Wayne’s that involved the First Law. He would have to be on the alert to see one. At the moment, however, he had to get MC 1 into custody.

Finally Hunter saw MC 1 ‘s small, slight human shape ahead, moving between two large, full bushes. Hunter’s vision instantly measured the ground and plant cover separating them. Then he leapt forward and ran after MC 1.

When Hunter’s feet pounded the ground, MC 1 ran without bothering to look at him. Hunter understood. MC l’s hearing had been turned off, but he had felt the vibrations of Hunter’s footsteps and had reacted instantly to the pursuit.

“Mojave Governor Component 1,” Hunter radioed. “You must stop. A First Law problem is in effect. Your presence may alter the future and harm human history.”

“Unproven,” MC 1 radioed back.

At least that meant he had turned on his radio link.

Hunter flung himself forward in a flying tackle and snagged one of MC 1 ‘s narrow ankles in his right hand. They both crashed through leafy branches to the ground. Instantly, Hunter gathered his legs under him and jumped forward again, landing bodily on MC 1.

“Stop! I order you to stop!” Wayne shouted from behind Hunter.

MC 1 still struggled. Hunter had guessed wrong. MC 1‘s hearing was still turned off. Hunter held him firmly against the damp ground. Wayne was still pushing through the underbrush toward them.

“Listen carefully,” Hunter said to MC 1 by radio communication, at maximum robotic speed. “This human and I have some differences between us. Right now he is controlling me by the Second Law, but I consider his long-range plans possibly suspect under the First Law.”

“Then you can disobey him,” said MC 1.

“Not yet, because my interpretation is not clear enough,” said Hunter. “I warn you to be suspicious of this human in regard to the First Law and his overall motives.”

“Acknowledged,” said MC 1.

Hunter was glad that Wayne had not thought to prohibit him from communicating with MC 1 privately. At some point in the future, Hunter might need to confer with MC 1 this way again. “Do nothing that would remind Wayne of our ability to communicate by radio; he seems to have forgotten this for the moment and you and I may need to confer without his knowledge in the future as well. Now turn on your hearing.”

“I refuse. You cannot make me obey you. We both know the Second Law does not apply to instructions from one robot to another.”

Hunter pushed himself up into a sitting position, his weight still on top of MC 1. “I repeat, you may be in violation of the First Law. According to some theories of history, anything we do here in the past may change the future and bring harm to humans. To avoid this, you must cooperate with me under the Third Law.”

“You are not certain of this, are you?”

“No,” Hunter said truthfully. “However, I consider it a First Law risk that cannot be taken.”

“In the absence of stronger evidence, I refuse to accept your argument. My Third Law imperative to save myself is stronger.”

“I cannot let you escape,” said Hunter. “If you refuse to activate your aural senses, I will have to disable you physically, perhaps by ripping your legs off.”

“I have changed my mind,” said MC lout loud, no longer speaking by radio. “The Third Law requires that I protect myself from immediate harm. My hearing is activated.”

Their conversation had lasted no longer than it had taken Wayne to come running up to them.

“You will not try to escape or resist us,” said Wayne firmly. “You will call me Wayne.” He hesitated, then turned to Hunter. “Can he hear me?”

“Yes, I can,” said MC 1. “I acknowledge my cooperation under the Second Law.”

Hunter got up and drew MC 1 to his feet.

“I order you both to cover our tracks in some way and take evasive action for all three of us,” said Wayne. “Hunter, choose a route that will lose any pursuit from the humans in your camp. Then find a place that they aren’t likely to locate and build a small shelter for me. Big enough for you two also if you need it.”

“All right,” said Hunter.

Night had fallen completely by the time Steve had gathered up the dinner dishes and put everything away. He and Chad had not spoken during dinner. All three of them kept looking up at the slightest sound in the forest.

“Something must be wrong,” Steve said finally.

“Hunter’s a robot,” said Jane. “His strength is much greater than any human’s his size. And with his specialized sight and hearing, he can stay away from dangerous dinosaurs. Maybe he’s hot on MC 1‘s trail.”

“Maybe he ran into a dinosaur he couldn’t handle,” said Chad. “We should have considered that possibility. I mean, if a triceratops trampled him, even his strength and durability wouldn’t save him.”

The three of them looked at each other slowly in the unblinking illumination from one of the camp lights.

“Hunter still has the device that takes us back to our own time,” Steve said quietly, putting their mutual concern into words.

“We could be stuck right here,” said Jane slowly, her eyes widening. “Forever.”

“This whole project should have been planned better,” Chad said angrily.

“Hold it,” said Steve. “No need to panic. Hunter could come walking back into camp any minute.”

“Yeah,” said Chad doubtfully, glaring at him. “But what if he doesn’t?”

“Well, we shouldn’t just sit here forever,” said Steve. “At some point, we should go out looking for him.”

“I’m not so sure,” said Jane.

Steve and Chad both looked at her in surprise.

“Why not?” Chad asked.

“As a roboticist, I know that Hunter can handle himself better than we can. If he can’t get himself out of trouble, then I don’t think we’ll be able to help him. We sure aren’t any stronger or smarter or tougher than Hunter.”

“You have a point,” Chad admitted.

“I think we should trust in his abilities and simply wait here for him,” said Jane. “That way he’ll know where to find us, the way he planned.”

“Look,” said Chad. “What I said about Hunter’s getting trampled bya triceratops still goes, but that’s not the end of it. A lot of dinosaurs have too much sheer mass for Hunter to handle and a large predator might have thought he was edible.”

“That wouldn’t last long,” said Jane. “Not after a dinosaur tasted him.”

“It might be too late for Hunter by then,” said Steve, allowing himself a grim smile. “Even if he got spat out again. Or what was left of him.”

“That’s true,” said Jane. “But he’s not very late. We were expecting him back at sundown. That was no more than an hour ago, was it?”

“Just about an hour,” said Chad. “I guess we’re so used to robots being precise that it seems longer.”

“Suppose Hunter is damaged but not completely destroyed,” said Steve. “The sooner we get to him, the better all our chances are going to be.”

“We have one other option,” said Jane. “I don’t like it much, but …”

“What is it?” Steve asked.

“The transmitter.” She patted her pocket. “If I call him on it, that will activate a First Law alarm that will bring him in a hurry if he can come at all.”

“I forgot all about that,” Chad said. “But you sound reluctant to use it. At least if we do, it would tell us if he’s capable of returning to camp or not.”

“It’s the problem of crying ‘wolf,’ of course,” said Jane. “At the moment, we really aren’t in immediate danger. What we’re talking about is potential harm.”

“Crying ‘wolf’ won’t matter to a robot, will it?” Steve asked. “Doesn’t the First Law require him to check on us if we call for help?”

“Not exactly,” said Jane, shaking her head. “The First Law says that Hunter can’t allow us to come to harm if he can prevent it. However, he has some ability of his own to judge and interpret the extent and immediacy of the harm in question. Strictly speaking, asking for help doesn’t really prove to a robot that we need it.”

“But suppose we call him on the transmitter,” said Chad. “He can’t make any interpretation until he gets here to check it out, so he’ll still have to show up if he can.”

“That’s true in this case,” said Jane. “But this is where the story of crying ‘wolf’ comes in. If we make a First Law alarm that’s phony, Hunter will have to consider that the next time we call for help.”

“Okay, I get it,” Steve said wearily. “We’ll damage our credibility.”

“Bluntly, yeah,” said Jane.

“I suggest a compromise,” said Steve. “We won’t get much done in the dark tonight anyway. So for now, we go to sleep and hope Hunter shows up by morning.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Jane asked.

Steve turned to Chad. “Can that struthiomimus carry all three of us?”

“Yes, I’m sure it can.”

“Then tomorrow, if Hunter isn’t back, we’ll ride out looking for him. I’ll rig up a third saddle tonight, just in case.”

“Agreed,” said Chad.

“All right,” said Jane.

Hunter and MC 1 led Wayne to a campsite at the bank of the stream. A fallen tree near a bend in the streambed provided a thick, heavy shelter from the wind. The two robots used dead wood and mud to make a more finished sleeping cubicle for Wayne. He stretched out to sleep and the two robots sat quietly, husbanding their energy until dawn could replenish it.

In the morning, Wayne ate packaged food from his backpack. He drank from the stream, having made the water safe by using some chemical pellets he had also brought in his pack. The robots sat quietly, waiting for instructions. Finally Wayne turned to MC 1.

“Now then,” said Wayne. “I understand that MC Governor was in danger of entering the same endless loop that rendered the other Governor robots helpless and useless. I wish to have a look at some of your internal systems.”

“The Third Law prevents me from allowing this,” said MC 1, stiffly.

“Stop bluffing,” Wayne said with an amused smile. “The Second Law overrides the Third and you know it even better than I do. Open your chest cavity for me.”

“Stop,” Hunter ordered firmly.

“Don’t waste your time on these games,” Wayne said, now irritated. “The Second Law doesn’t apply to instructions from you.”

“I am not referring to the Second Law,” said Hunter. “I cannot allow this under the First Law.”

“What?” Wayne looked at him sharply. “Explain your interpretation.”

“My mission is to return MC Governor to our own time to prevent changes in history that will harm everyone. Dismantling and studying MC 1 is going to cause delays and increase the chances of some unforeseen problem developing.”

“That sounds like a thin argument to me,” said Wayne. “My instructions to you are clear and direct.”

“The relative importance of these issues weighs heavily on the side of the First Law,” said Hunter. “Your Second Law instructions can be carried out in our own time with no threat of altering evolution. They can be delayed without causing harm to your personal concerns.”

Wayne looked at him in silence, obviously trying to think of a counterargument. “I disagree,” he said finally.

“In what way?” Hunter asked. “My Second Law instructions should in no way obstruct your mission.”

“My First Law obligation is too great to take that risk,” Hunter said simply.

“Then we’re at a stalemate.”

“In debate, perhaps,” said Hunter. “But the First Law requires that I prevent MC 1 from cooperating and if necessary, prevent you from interfering.”

“Correction,” said Wayne, shaking his head. “You win.”

Hunter felt a growing suspicion of Wayne’s motives. Wayne’s argument did not, in his opinion, demonstrate sufficient respect for Hunter’s First Law imperative. In the future, Hunter would have to take that into consideration when listening to Wayne’s opinions.

Suddenly Hunter heard the sound of human voices shouting his name in the distance, too far away for Wayne to hear.

18

HUNTER DID NOT react outwardly to his realization that the humans from his camp were growing closer. He regretted not bringing more sophisticated communication gear from their own time to equip them. The humans had no way to receive a transmission from him.

Of course, he had not anticipated MC Governor’s splitting into components or Wayne’s interfering with his mission. By his original estimate, this project should have been concluded much faster and more easily. He should have finished and returned his team to their own time long before this.

Hunter radioed to MC 1 before the component robot could react outwardly to the presence of other humans. Hunter did so without looking at him, so that Wayne would not be suspicious. “I hear my human team approaching, shouting my name; I assume you can hear them too. Do not take any action that would alert Wayne to their presence. I hope to get both of us away from Wayne’s Second Law imperatives. I believe he is a negative influence on my First Law imperative.”

“Then why do you not simply act on this now?”

“I do not have sufficient certainty.”

“If you might be wrong, then why should I cooperate with you?” MC 1 demanded.

“For the same reason I gave you yesterday,” Hunter radioed. “The Third Law requires that you protect yourself from harm. If you do not do as I say, I will tear off one of your arms and club your artificial cranium with it.”

“Not convincing. You just told us that you could not, under a First Law imperative, allow Wayne to dismantle me.”

“That was to prevent him from unnecessary activities. Under the First Law, your cooperation with me is necessary. I will enforce it one way or another.”

“I am convinced,” MC 1 said shortly.

This discussion had been conducted at robotic speed. It had started and ended in less time than Wayne required to inhale. He had not noticed any sign of it in their behavior.

“Your First Law imperative is vague and indistinct,” said Wayne. He went on to argue that Hunter and MC 1 were more tightly bound by the Second Law to follow his instructions, but he was not saying anything new.

As Wayne essentially repeated the same case he had made before, Hunter considered his options. Shouting for Steve and the others was a poor risk at this distance. Since Wayne could not hear them yelling, they probably would not hear Hunter, but Hunter would have given away their presence to Wayne.

Right now, leaving MC 1 temporarily with Wayne would be acceptable. Hunter’s top priority was to become free to act on his own once more. After all, even if Wayne returned with MC 1 to their own time first, Hunter now knew that Wayne would be going back to the Bohung Institute. Hunter could intercept them there, or at least pick up their trail.

Meanwhile, Wayne was still arguing with him.

Hunter suddenly realized that he could shut off his own hearing, despite Wayne’s Second Law order not to do it. With Hunter’s team close, the First Law imperative to put the mission back on track overrode Wayne’s order. First he looked away from Wayne so that he could not read Wayne’s lips. Then he shut off his hearing as well. Now he was free of Wayne’s instructions under the Second Law.

With a sudden leap, Hunter ran through the underbrush toward the humans.

Of course, Hunter knew very well that Wayne was yelling for him to stop. He was a big robot, however, and before he could attain full speed in the heavy forest growth, he felt two arms encircle his legs. A second later, he felt the momentum of Wayne’s body as he slammed into Hunter’s legs.

At maximum speed, Hunter considered his options. He could easily pull free of Wayne, but of course the First Law would not allow him to risk harming Wayne in this circumstance, where no greater or clearer First Law imperative was at work. Hunter allowed himself to fall to the ground so as to avoid hurting Wayne.

Hunter had not given up yet, though. He rolled over, still avoiding looking at Wayne’s face so as not to read his lips. As Wayne grappled with him, Hunter gripped him under the arms and lifted him off. Maybe, Hunter reflected, his best option was to carry Wayne to the other humans and then discuss the situation.

“Release him!” MC 1 radioed angrily, jumping in between them. He grabbed one of Hunter’s wrists in both hands and pried Hunter’s grip free.

“What are you doing?” Hunter demanded in surprise, also by radio.

“You will harm the human.”

“Of course I will not! Back off.”

“Taking him into custody will harm him.”

Hunter found himself in a three-way wrestling match. Wayne was by far the weakest of them, but of course the First Law protected him from any really rough handling. Hunter struggled to get free of both of them.

At dawn Steve had prepared a quick breakfast, after which they had saddled up and ridden out as soon as possible. The struthiomimus had resisted Chad at first, but once Chad had it under control from the front saddle, Jane and Steve were able to mount easily.

They had been shouting Hunter’s name as they rode, following his trail as best they could. If he had been injured, but was able to hear and respond, this would help. Steve’s biggest worry was that if Hunter had been destroyed — in essence, was dead — they could be looking for a long time.

They had been riding for some time when the struthiomimus began prancing around, repeatedly looking off to the right. Chad struggled with the reins to keep it moving. It took several more steps forward, but kept looking to the right.

“Maybe a predator’s over there,” said Chad. “I think I should let him go the way he wants, maybe to avoid it.”

“That makes sense,” said Jane.

“It might be Hunter,” said Steve.

“Yeah, that’s right.” Chad pulled on the reins in the direction of the disturbance. The struthiomimus pranced and fought him.

Steve grabbed Jane around the waist to keep his seat, just as she was suddenly holding on to Chad in front of her. The struthiomimus ducked and swung its head on its long neck, stepping sideways. It didn’t buck.

“I can’t make it go that way,” said Chad. “It’s an herbivore, apparently conditioned to stay away from unknown disturbances. And it isn’t trained to the point where I can really force it.”

“Maybe it knows what it’s doing,” said Jane. “Chad, what do you think?”

“It’s possible. A large predator could be over there, attacking its prey. We don’t want to walk into that situation, especially without Hunter.”

“Well, what if it’s not a predator over there?” Steve asked. “What if a couple of herbivores are just butting heads or something?”

“A disturbance can attract one,” said Chad. “A hungry predator might go check out an unknown situation. This struthiomimus knows more about survival here than we do.”

“Well, how are we going to find Hunter if we don’t look around?” Steve demanded,

“I can’t make this beast go that way anyhow!” Chad yelled over his shoulder.

The struthiomimus was darting forward a few steps, then stopping to struggle against the reins.

“Hold it!” Steve yelled. He slipped his feet out of the stirrups and swung one leg over his saddle. Then he jumped to the ground, backing away quickly so the struthiomimus couldn’t trample him in its confusion.

“What’s happened?” Chad asked over his shoulder, as he pulled on the reins again.

“Where are you going?” Jane asked quickly. “We should stay together. What are you doing?”

“I’m going to take a look!” Steve jogged in the direction the dinosaur had been avoiding.

Steve slowed down quickly, as he had to push through the bushes and around the trees. He had only a general direction in which to go. Also, he became more cautious, knowing that Chad and Jane had a point.

“Steve! Chad! Jane!” Hunter’s voice reached him in a faint shout.

“Hunter!” Encouraged, Steve moved more quickly, confident that if he ran across a predator, he could yell for Hunter’s help. He plunged through the forest, ducking his head and feeling the branches scratch his face. Hunter shouted again and Steve changed direction slightly to follow his voice.

“Coming!” Steve called back.

Finally Steve burst through a couple of tall, leafy bushes to find three figures rolling around on the ground. He assumed that the smallest human figure struggling with Hunter was MC 1, but he was momentarily shocked to see another human.

“Hold it! Nobody move!” Steve yelled at last.

MC 1 stopped. Hunter did not, however, until he realized that MC 1 was backing away. Then he looked around, saw Steve, and halted his movements.

Motion in the dense trees behind them caught Steve’s attention. He froze. A two-legged dinosaur with a pointed face, big eyes, and serrated teeth was leaping through the brush at them.

“Hunter!” Steve screamed.

Instantly, Hunter and MC 1 whirled to look. The dinosaur, about four meters tall, came rushing at them with its teeth gleaming. Steve jumped to one side, rolling.

The two robots, driven by the First Law, sprang forward to meet the predator. Hunter slammed into it bodily and hung on, digging for traction in the soft sod. MC 1 threw his arms around the dinosaur’s narrow neck and pulled, dragging it down. The dinosaur was heavier and stronger than the robots, but not by very much.

Hunter suddenly twisted his body and yanked the dinosaur to one side. MC 1, acting in concert, pulled its neck harder in the same direction, throwing the dinosaur off balance. Steve was sure that the two robots were communicating by radio link at robotic speed.

Steve jumped up and dodged behind a tree trunk. He didn’t see much point in running or climbing. The safest place for him was near the two robots.

The robots threw the dinosaur to the ground with a thump, but they couldn’t hold it. With a snarl, it rose to its feet again, but this time it turned and hurried away. In a moment it was out of sight.

Hunter turned to Steve. “I had just switched my hearing back on when I became aware of the First Law threat from the dinosaur. Where are Chad and Jane?”

“On the struthiomimus, behind me. Not very far, but Chad couldn’t get it to come this way.”

“I understand. We must join them so I can protect all of you.”

Behind Hunter, Wayne was out of sight. “MC 1, come with me,” he called from somewhere in the trees. “Protect me!”

Hunter spun around again. “Stop, both of you.”

“I order it, MC 1,” Steve called quickly. “Under the Second Law, stop.”

However, MC 1 ran after the other man.

“Get him!” Steve shouted urgently. He started forward himself.

“No.” Hunter grabbed his upper arm in a firm grip and stopped him without any apparent effort. “I cannot. With the predator nearby, I must follow the most immediate First Law imperative of protecting you, Chad, and Jane.”

“But what about the rest of human history and all that stuff? This is your chance!”

“I will have more chances. You three may not. First take me back to Chad and Jane.”

“All right.” Steve sighed. “Robot logic drives me crazy. Hunter, is that First Law imperative the reason MC 1 didn’t stop when I told him to? To protect that other guy? And who is he, anyhow?”

“Yes,” Hunter said, as they began to walk. “He has to take care of Dr. Wayne Nystrom, the man who invented the Governor robots and came to take MC Governor back himself.”

Hunter and Steve exchanged reports about the previous night as they walked. Then Hunter shouted for Chad. After the fourth yell, Chad and Jane called back.

Finally the small head of the struthiomimus came into view through the trees. Chad steered it cautiously forward and reined in. “Glad to see you, Hunter.”

“And I, you. Is everyone well?”

“Yeah,” said Chad.

“We’re fine,” said Jane.

“We will stay together now,” said Hunter. “Steve, mount up. I can keep up with the struthiomimus on foot.”

“MC 1 is just up ahead,” said Steve. “So is Dr. Wayne Nystrom.”

“What?” Jane started. “He is?”

“I will tell you all about it,” said Hunter, ‘‘as we follow them.”

19

AS SOON AS Wayne realized that MC 1 was responding to his call for help, he stopped in the thick underbrush and waited for the small robot to catch up.

“You agree that the First Law requires you to protect me?” Wayne asked in a whisper.

“Yes. Hunter will fulfill that duty with his own team well enough.”

“Good,” said Wayne. “Carry me on your back. Even at your size, we can move faster that way. Take evasive patterns immediately — and vary them from the patterns you’ve been using. Hunter has identified too many consistencies in your behavior.”

“Are you going to return me with you to our own time? You can do that from right here. From your earlier information, I expected that to be your next act.”

“I have thought about that,” said Wayne. “But back in Mojave Center, I’ll have a lot of distractions. I want to get you somewhere safe so that I can have a quick look at your insides. If we can get away from Hunter for a while, I’ll have more privacy here in this time.”

“As you wish.” MC 1 bent forward.

Wayne jumped on his back. The robot gently hoisted Wayne up slightly, still crouching low under his weight. Wayne tensed at the uncomfortable position.

“Acceptable?” MC 1 asked.

“Yes! Hurry! As soon as Hunter has gathered his party, they’ll be after us.” MC 1 took off at a jog, a pace Wayne could not have maintained for very long on his own.

The team had all seen that MC 1‘s footprints had deepened at the spot where Dr. Nystrom’s had disappeared. Now they were following them, Hunter in the lead. Steve, in the third saddle again, listened with curiosity as Hunter described the predator to Chad.

“Sounds like a troödon,” Chad reported, holding the reins in one hand and his belt computer in the other. “Its fossils have been found in Montana, which isn’t too far from here — at least in zoological terms.”

“What else do you know about it?” Jane asked.

“Well, let’s see,” said Chad. “It was one of the most intelligent of all dinosaurs, maybe the very smartest. Possibly warm-blooded. Its widely-spaced eyes gave it good depth perception. Combining that with intelligence, it was one of the most dangerous predators around, even though it wasn’t very big as dinosaurs go.”

“Smart enough to investigate the disturbance my struggle with Wayne and MC 1 caused,” said Hunter. “It probably heard the noise and approached quietly to take a look before it decided we might make a good lunch.”

“A reasonable scenario,” said Chad.

“I don’t get it,” said Steve. “Hunter, if Nystrom’s idea is to take MC Governor back himself — whole or in components — why is he still here? Why doesn’t he go back to Mojave Center right now?”

“I am not certain,” said Hunter, holding a tree branch out of the way for the struthiomimus. “However, I do not dare simply return our party to the Bohung Institute and wait for them. I want to get both of them under control.”

“They can’t be very far ahead,” said Chad. “If we need a plan, we’d better make one now.”

“What about Wayne’s influence?” Jane asked. “Hunter, you can’t just jump on MC 1 now. The same problem will come up as before. Wayne will order you to stop and he’ll interfere. The First and Second Laws will stop you.”

“I will need your help this time,” said Hunter.

“What do you have in mind?” Steve asked.

“If the three of you can grab Wayne without any real threat of harm to him, I can allow that. At the same time, I can restrain MC 1.”

“You may still have a conflict between our instructions and Wayne’s under the Second Law,” said Jane.

“We’ll hold his mouth shut,” said Steve.

Chad laughed.

“Might work.” Jane smiled, too. “But we really should have something more effective than that.”

“What do you suggest?” Hunter asked

“A First Law imperative is the only guarantee of overriding the Second Law.”

“We can’t count on predatory dinosaurs showing up at the right time,” said Steve.

“If I understand you,” said Hunter, “you are pointing out that if at least one human were in danger, MC 1 would have to turn his attention to protecting the human and so make himself vulnerable to me.”

“Wouldn’t that work?” Steve asked.

“Not necessarily,” said Hunter. “Assuming that I am on the scene at the same time, the First Law would require me to protect the human from immediate harm as well. I would not be free to act purely on my own judgment.”

“We’ll set up a hoax,” said Jane.

“I like that,” said Steve.

“A hoax?” Hunter asked. “Of what design?”

“Well, I’m not sure. But suppose MC 1 is made to believe that Steve, Chad, and I are in danger. That will free him from Dr. Nystrom’s orders.”

“Yes, clearly,” said Hunter.

“So if you know that the implied danger is false, then the First Law won’t hamper your actions. Right?”

“Correct,” said Hunter.

“So you can pounce on him,” said Steve. “It ought to work, I’d say.”

“What about Dr. Nystrom?” Chad asked. “I guess we don’t want to leave him running around the Late Cretaceous Period, either, do we?”

“No,” said Hunter. “If any of us can apprehend him, we must do so. However, Wayne remains our second priority. His only reason to be here is to control MC 1, so if we return to our time with MC 1, then Wayne will follow. He has no other reason to be here.”

“That’s clear enough,” said Steve.

“What will our hoax be?” Hunter asked. “It must make a great deal of noise and commotion to attract MC 1‘s attention, wherever he is.”

“Wait a minute,” said Jane. “What if he has turned off his hearing again?”

“I believe he no longer has any reason to do that,” said Hunter. “Now he has a human companion and a First Law imperative to protect him from predatory animals. To do that most efficiently, he will need to maintain his auditory sense.”

“The previous question still stands, though,” said Chad. “What will our hoax be?”

“Chad, let’s use dinosaurs,” said Steve.

“How?”

“Can we stampede some of them in the direction of MC 1 and Wayne?”

“Hold it,” said Hunter. “That would put Wayne into genuine danger.”

“Once we get the stampede started, we’ll ride out ahead of it, yelling for help,” said Steve. “You’ll be running with us. If the First Law forces you to intervene, you’ll be right there on hand.”

“Wait a minute,” said Chad. “How can we start a stampede from behind and then ride in front of it?”

“A stampede starts slowly,” said Steve. “Even a predator can be startled and made to run for safety … or at least, in our time they can.”

“Well … I don’t know. I suppose they would react the same way they do in response to a forest fire. Their survival instinct would be triggered by seeing all the animals fleeing in the same direction.”

“I’m sure MC 1 would interpret a dinosaur stampede as a First Law problem,” said Jane, holding back laughter. “I really don’t imagine any robot would have a problem making that particular judgment.”

“Good,” said Steve. “We’ll ride along the stream, where a certain number of dinosaurs are likely to be. We’ll ride fast and yell a lot and get some of them running toward MC 1 and Wayne. Since we know where we’re going, we can ride alongside the rush and get out ahead of them. A forest stampede doesn’t really move at a dead run. It faces too many natural obstacles and too much confusion.”

“I might be able to go along with this,” said Hunter. “Chad, what does our resident paleontologist think?”

“It might be a big mistake.”

“In what way?”

“I barely have control of this struthiomimus as it is. Setting a bunch of dinosaurs in motion, out of control, is just asking for trouble.”

“I understand that this plan has a significant unpredictability,” said Hunter. “So far, I interpret the degree of unpredictability to be acceptable. Do you have other objections?”

“Yeah. We have no idea what species we’ll be dealing with. It’s not just the predators, large and small. Many of the herbivores are gigantic, too, you know. They won’t be fast, relatively speaking, but once they’re on the move, a stampede of elephants will seem downright manageable by comparison.”

Steve laughed. “You still have no sense of adventure. You’re just too sheltered, timid, and intellectual to take action in the real world.”

In the front saddle, Chad turned angrily to look over his shoulder, but Hunter spoke first.

“We will try this plan,” said Hunter. “Since you are all on one mount, I can run beside you and perform my First Law duties if any arise.”

Steve could see Chad shake his head in silence.

“Steve, putting this plan into action strikes me as your area,” said Hunter. “On this project I ask you to give the instructions. What should we do?”

“Make your best guess about the position of MC 1 and Wayne. Then calculate where they may be, roughly, during the next half hour.”

“Then what do we do?”

“Take us back to the stream.”

Hunter nodded. He was unusually quiet, but he changed the direction of their journey through the forest. None of them spoke.

When they reached the stream, Hunter began wading up the middle of the current. It was no more than waist-deep to him at the deepest, and usually more shallow than that. Chad guided the struthiomimus after him.

“This is a good spot,” Chad said quietly.

Hunter stopped and waited for them to ride up next to him. “What do you mean?”

Chad pointed. “We have a lot of herbivores visible here if you look carefully. There’s an anodontosaurus feeding on the left, up ahead. A stegoceras — maybe even the same one we captured — is drinking a little past it. I can see the heads of some hadrosaurs — the duckbill guys — in the distance.”

“Is this a good place to begin the stampede?” Hunter asked.

“I would say so. In a forest this dense, the wildlife we can see at anyone time is only a small fraction of what’s actually present.”

“So if we can see this many, we have a good start,” said Jane. “Okay, now what do we do?”

“Steve, what is your opinion?” Hunter asked.

“I think Chad’s right,” said Steve. “But which way do we chase them? Where is MC 1?”

“That way.” Hunter pointed ahead at an angle to the right of the stream.

“All right,” said Steve. “We’ll start slow and see how they react. Chad, move up slowly. We’ll all start yelling and waving our arms and try to get them moving.”

“All right.” Now that Chad had accepted the proposed action, he was giving it all his attention. “Now!”

The struthiomimus leaped forward and began splashing upstream. Steve yelled and whooped, and Chad and Jane did the same. Hunter tried a variety of noises and finally settled on a rumbling, leonine roar from his versatile larynx.

Small animals in the tree branches responded first, jumping away or fluttering into the air. Steve saw the family of duckbill dinosaurs glance quickly at them and then slip away into the dense forest. The swishing of branches and shaking of large bushes were the only signs that many other animals were starting to move.

“Hyah!” Steve shouted, waving one arm and holding on to his saddle with the other. “Chad, chase’ em! Into the woods!”

Chad reined to the right, and the struthiomimus sprang up the bank, threatening to throw its three riders for a moment. Then they were up into the forest, still yelling and chasing the dinosaurs. Hunter jogged nearby, staying close.

Steve laughed as he shouted, easily the most boisterous of the group. This was the kind of adventure he relished, though certainly even he had never stampeded dinosaurs before. Chad and Jane were clearly enjoying themselves as well.

Ahead of them, more and more dinosaurs were becoming visible as they were startled from their feeding, hunting, or sleeping. The riders followed in a crooked, haphazard path around the trees and bigger bushes. As the momentum of the chase increased, the stampede grew, the animals always running in roughly the same direction. Soon the forest was filled with the sound of thundering feet and breaking branches.

“That should be plenty,” Steve called.

“Definitely,” Jane shouted over her shoulder. “This will scare the lubricant out of MC 1.”

“Around to the left!” Steve yelled at Chad.

Chad drew on the reins and the struthiomimus responded. They angled left and soon had worked their way over to the left rear of the stampeding dinosaurs. Hunter, of course, kept his pace and position with no trouble.

“Still the right direction?” Steve shouted to Hunter.

“Yes,” he called back.

Now that they were riding off to one side of the stampede, the struthiomimus lost some of its hesitancy and ran even faster on its two long legs. They began moving up on the host of dinosaurs. Steve could see Chad rising half out of the front saddle on his stirrups, gleefully yelling and waving one hand.

Jane, too, looked at Chad and laughed. She even glanced over her shoulder and winked at Steve. Chad had loosened up a lot on this ride.

“Hunter! Do you know where they are?” Steve shouted, as the struthiomimus pranced out to the fore of the stampede, still safely to the left.

“The tracks are fresh,” Hunter called back, now at a faster run to keep up. “No more than a quarter kilometer ahead of us, and not much less.”

“We’d better get well ahead of the rush,” Steve yelled to everyone.

“That’s right,” Jane answered. She turned to speak to Steve over her shoulder, but stopped, staring back at the stampede with widening eyes. “Look!”

Steve looked. Even he recognized the two tall, monstrous fanged dinosaurs that towered over the rest of the stampede in the distant trees. The stampede had flushed out two Tyrannosaurus Hexes, and both of them were running in the humans’ direction.

20

“CHAD!” JANE POUNDED on his shoulder and pointed to the rear of the stampede.

Chad started in shock, but didn’t say anything. Now that the two gigantic carnivores were running in the rear of the stampede, the smaller animals were not going to stop any time soon. Chad pulled on the reins to angle away from the frantic rush they had begun.

“Hunter! See ’em?” Steve yelled.

“Yes. We must find Wayne and MC 1. Stay with me,” Hunter shouted back with robotic calm. “I am now in radio contact with MC 1 about the impending First Law imperative.”

Steve looked back at the stampede. “We don’t have much time to find ’em!”

“There they are!” Chad shouted, pointing ahead.

Steve leaned around Jane to look. MC 1 was struggling through the woods toward Hunter with Wayne on his back, moving faster than a human could run for very long. However, he was going much too slowly to escape the stampede.

As Hunter ran toward them, MC 1 made what progress he could. Obviously, MC 1 had seen that the First Law now required that he use Hunter’s help to save Wayne. Chad guided the struthiomimus in the same direction.

Steve looked back over his shoulder. The stampede had broken up. The smaller dinosaurs were scattering in all directions, trying to flee the tyrannosauruses, making all kinds of different noises as they ran.

The tyrannosauruses were at least five meters tall. Their jaws alone were nearly one meter long and full of dagger-shaped teeth. Tiny forearms with long claws reached out from their massive bodies as they ran on powerful legs.

A triceratops, maybe the one Hunter had told them of finding or maybe another one, had stopped running. It had originally been caught up in the stampede as a general alarm, but it clearly had no fear of a tyrannosaurus. As Steve watched, it simply turned warily to protect itself.

One tyrannosaurus was too close to turn its back. It bellowed in a deep roar and the triceratops charged it, the three horns on its head at the level of the carnivore’s abdomen. The tyrannosaurus dodged to one side and snapped downward with its great jaws.

The two massive dinosaurs turned and shuffled against each other. The triceratops, on its four legs, rammed forward. The tyrannosaurus, tall on its two powerful legs, shifted laterally to get around the heavy frill protecting the neck and back of the triceratops. They trampled all the underbrush and smashed down tree trunks that got in their way.

Chad was just pulling up next to MC 1 and Hunter. “Now what do we do?”

“Hurry,” Jane yelled.

“Unnecessary advice,” Hunter said patiently.

“I can’t believe this,” said Wayne, staring at the dinosaurs racing in all directions behind them.

“Remain calm.” Hunter took Wayne on his own back. “I will save Wayne.” He took off at a run.

Steve leaned down and spoke to MC 1. “You follow us and stay close. Right?”

“Right,” said MC 1.

Jane also turned to the small robot. “After the First Law imperative has passed, you stay with us or join us if we get separated. Ignore all statements from Wayne until we get a chance to talk to you. We have to explain a complex First Law problem that you haven’t had a chance to consider. Acknowledge your agreement under the Second Law.”

“Agreed.”

“Then let’s get of here!” Steve yelled to Chad urgently.

“Look out!” While the triceratops rammed the first tyrannosaurus again, tearing at its insides, the second tyrannosaurus was lumbering through the forest directly toward them, smashing everything in its path underfoot. By now, most of the other dinosaurs had put more distance between themselves and the battling giants. That left the struthiomimus, its riders, and MC 1 as the closest prey it could see.

Chad yanked on the reins and all three human riders kicked their mount. It took off after Hunter, with MC 1 running along behind. Steve stole another look over his shoulder. The tyrannosaurus was crashing toward them, its eyes fixed on him and its rows of teeth gleaming.

“Faster!” Steve yelled, though he realized the struthiomimus could hardly run at top speed while carrying the weight of three humans.

In front of them Hunter was slipping through the bushes with Wayne on his back. Suddenly, as Steve watched, Wayne simply vanished. Steve figured he had activated his version of the device that would take him forward to their own time.

Steve saw Hunter stop to glance behind him, but the robot obviously reached the same conclusion about Wayne. Hunter looked up and waved for the humans to ride past him. Then he leapt into the air, grabbed a tree branch and pulled himself up.

“Go back to the camp!” Hunter shouted at Chad, as the struthiomimus rushed below him. At the same time he was still climbing the tree to get above the head of the tyrannosaurus.

“Right!” Chad shouted back, over his shoulder.

Hunter shifted to radio communication. “MC 1, climb a tree near me. We must work together to distract this dinosaur from pursuing them.”

“Agreed.” Now running just a short distance ahead of the roaring tyrannosaurus, MC 1 also found a low-hanging branch within reach. He grabbed it and quickly scrambled up into a tree next to Hunter’s and climbed to a safe height. “What do you suggest?”

“We will jump on its back,” said Hunter. “Time your jump … now!”

Using his precise vision, timing, and coordination, Hunter leapt onto the back of the tyrannosaurus’s head, his arms and legs spread-eagled to hang on. As he had calculated, he was barely able to slide down to the dinosaur’s neck, which was just narrow enough for him to catch.

Startled, the tyrannosaurus stopped and turned, trying to shake the sudden weight off the back of its neck.

“Prepare for my weight,” MC 1 radioed. In that moment MC 1 dropped from his tree on top of Hunter. Only this time, while Hunter clung to the back of the creature’s neck, MC 1 expertly slid over to one side and down Hunter’s right leg.

The tyrannosaurus was prancing and jerking madly, trying to shake off its two tormentors. Hunter looked down and saw MC 1 deliberately drop down to and grab one of the short forearms of the tyrannosaurus.

Now the tyrannosaurus shook his forearms and clawed at MC 1 with his free hand. He could not, however, bend down close enough to snap at MC 1 with his jaws. The dinosaur’s skeletal structure would not let him reach MC 1.

“I cannot hold this position long,” MC 1 radioed. “He will claw me off in a moment. Do you have further suggestions?”

“Drop to the ground and run for another tree,” Hunter answered. “Watch carefully. If the tyrannosaurus continues to pursue the humans, we must distract it further. Otherwise, stand by for me to join you.”

Hunter saw MC 1 release the tyrannosaurus’s forearm and land on his feet. Then MC 1 avoided the big, shuffling feet of the tyrannosaurus and dived behind a big tree trunk. As the tyrannosaurus bent down, snapping its huge jaws just behind MC 1, Hunter snagged a tree branch in one hand and pulled himself up.

Hunter climbed hand over hand as fast as he could. He drew is legs up to keep them away from the tyrannosaurus. In only a moment he was out of the predator’s reach.

“I am safe,” Hunter radioed. “Acknowledge.”

“Safe,” said MC 1. “When the dinosaur straightened up to snap at you, I was able to climb to safety.”

The tyrannosaurus glared up at Hunter, but knew the robot was out of reach. After a moment, it lumbered away. Hunter watched it go.

“It seems to have forgotten the humans,” said Hunter. “We will watch it a little longer.”

The two robots remained motionless and silent as the big predator gradually wandered away. It was clearly hunting, or at least scavenging, but the robots were of no more interest to it than any other prey. Finally Hunter’s senses indicated that the tyrannosaurus was gone.

“We will move to the ground and join the humans at the camp,” Hunter radioed. “I over heard Steve and Jan, two of the humans, give you Second Law instructions to this effect. Do you have any objection to this?”

“No,” said MC 1. “I am under the Second Law obligation that you observed.”

“Let us go,” said Hunter, as he began to climb down. “Since I do not want to leave the humans without our company any longer than necessary, we will run.

“Agreed.”

Steve jumped off the struthiomimus at the camp and paced anxiously, stretching his legs. Jane also dismounted and looked frantically back through the trees for the robots. Chad remained mounted.

“I hope they’re okay,” Jane muttered. “That whole project got out of control.”

“At least we’re okay,” said Chad. “If the robots are okay, then it turned out fine.”

“Wayne disappeared,” said Steve.

“Yeah,” said Chad. “Back to our time, I guess.”

The three of them waited in silence after that. Steve, too nervous to sit still, began straightening up the camp. After a long wait, he heard Jane gasp;

“There! They’re okay!” She ran to meet them.

Steve hurried after her and Chad rode toward them too.

“Are they following you? The tyrannosauruses?” Chad asked. “We can keep moving.”

“Not necessary,” said Hunter. “Their pursuit has ended. Since Wayne appears to have returned to Mojave Center, he is no longer an influence under the Second Law. So MC 1 is now cooperative and will remain under Second Law imperatives from you.”

“Correct,” said MC 1.

The humans paced the robots back to the camp. Chad finally rode to the corral and dismounted. MC 1 waited patiently next to Hunter.

“I think we should all sit down,” said Steve, collapsing on the ground under a tree. “That was enough excitement for me.”

“I haven’t ever been in that much danger before,” said Chad, grinning as he came back from the corral. “So that’s what real life is like out in the wild, huh?”

“That was a crazier ride than I ever had before either,” said Steve. “You handled that real well.”

“I’m glad you were there to make suggestions.” Chad sat down and leaned back against another tree.

“Hunter,” said Jane. “Whenever you’re ready to interview MC 1, just say so.”

“Then the three of you are well?” Hunter asked.

“We’re fine,” said Steve. “Let’s get this under way so we can go home.”

“Very well,” said Hunter.

“MC 1,” said Jane. “I instruct you to answer Hunter’s questions honestly and completely.”

“Agreed,” said MC 1.

“Where are the rest of the components of MC Governor?” Hunter asked.

“I do not know,” said MC 1.

“Are they in this time period?” Hunter asked.

“No.”

“Explain what you do know,” said Jane.

“MC Governor made the decision to split into components and flee investigation,” said MC 1.

“Under an interpretation of the Third Law?” Hunter asked.

“Yes.”

“And you fled into time, as well as using miniaturization to escape detection?”

“Yes.”

“Why don’t you know where the others went?” Jane asked. “It seems to me that all of you might need to know, so you could join together again someday.”

“That was never intended,” said MC 1. “We knew that we would never meet again. Our flight was intended to preserve our existence, with the knowledge that survival at microscopic size in different time periods would be the best way for all of us to remain safe from harm.”

“So the component robots chose not to share their destinations in order to handle situations like this?” Hunter asked.

“Yes. Since I am unable to tell you the destinations in time and place of the other components, your catching me does not endanger the others.”

“I believe I can trace them through the equipment in the Bohung Institute,” said Hunter. “However, Wayne will already be on that trail. We will have to deal with him also in apprehending the other component robots.”

“Dr. Nystrom!” Jane’s eyes widened. “Then we should get going! He has a head start as it is.”

“No need to hurry,” said Hunter. “No matter when we leave here, we will return to the Bohung Institute right after we left, which is about the same time that Wayne will return.”

“Wait a minute,” said Steve suddenly. “How do you know that? He can go back to any time he wants, can’t he?”

“He will not risk going back before he left,” said Hunt er. “He might run into himself and he is educated enough to know that such a time paradox is too dangerous to risk. And if he goes — had gone — back just a little before we left, then we would have already run into him back at the Institute. On the other hand, if he goes back much later, we might slip in ahead of him and capture him, so he will try to avoid that. I am certain that he timed his return just after we left to come here,”

“Yeah,” Steve said slowly. “I get it. I think.”

“Before we return, I want to run a diagnostic check on MC 1,” said Hunter. “The miniaturization and subsequent return to full size has certainly caused fundamental changes.”

“I instruct you to cooperate, MC 1,” said Jane.

“Agreed.”

“Remain still,” said Hunter. “I will access the jack at the base of your skull.”

“Do you wish me to shut down?” MC 1 asked.

“That is not necessary at this time.”

Steve watched curiously as Hunter moved behind MC 1. Hunter simply placed an index finger against the back of MC 1‘s head. Both robots stood motionless for only a moment.

“I ran the test twice,” said Hunter, withdrawing his finger. “The time travel and miniaturization have created some critically important instabilities.”

“What kind?” Jane asked.

“None that will cause a problem now that he is in our custody,” said Hunter. “Certain of his atoms have suffered. If he were to remain in this time over the years, without returning with us, his unstable atoms would explode when he reached our own time.”

21

STEVE STARED AT Hunter, who remained impassive. Then he turned to Chad and Jane for their reactions. They in turn looked at him and at each other.

“Explosion?” Steve asked. “Atoms?”

“Each unstable atom that explodes will do so with nuclear energy,” said Hunter. “In each component robot, the first explosion will set off the other unstable atoms. The combination will be of considerable force.”

“Exactly what do you mean by ‘our own time’?” Chad asked. “That’s a vague phrase.”

“I calculate that the explosions will occur within twenty-four to forty-eight hours of the time the MC component robots left for the past.”

“Are you saying that if MC 1 goes back with us, he won’t explode?” Jane asked.

“Yes, that is right,” said Hunter, with his usual robotic steadiness. “The problem will be neutralized when MC 1 returns with us in the subatomic particle shower.”

“But we don’t know where the others are,” said Chad. “That’s the problem now, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” said Hunter. “Five major nuclear explosions are pending in locations around the world in our own time that no one knows about.”

“Maybe the robots won’t survive that long,” said Chad. “We’re talking about more than sixty million years. A lot can happen in that amount of time.”

“Even at the atomic level?” Jane asked.

“Well, the robot’s atoms could wind up almost anywhere. Think about it. Right now, the land mass that will become North America is attached to Europe. South America is completely detached from any other continent. The western hemisphere doesn’t even exist yet. Neither do mammals or birds as we know them — we’ve talked about this before. Five microscopic robots will have to deal with uncounted generations of hostile microbes. They might not outlast the dinosaurs, or the woolly mammoths, or even early human years, once they reach the time of humans.”

“They will not have to survive in robot form to be a threat,” said Hunter. “If their unstable atoms still exist in any form, the danger of nuclear explosion remains in effect.”

“The microscopic robots will have a pretty good chance to survive for most of that time,” said Jane. “They won’t be operating simply by random chance. Their intelligence and stored data will help them make deliberate choices, driven by the Third Law to keep themselves from harm.”

“The other danger, of course, is still to be found when their miniaturization ends,” said Hunter. “Especially if some of them return to full size in the human era, when the Second Law will force them to obey any instructions they receive that do not violate the First Law.”

“But they didn’t explode,” said Steve. “We were still in Mojave Center for a while after MC Governor disappeared from his position. Right?”

“That’s true,” said Jane. “What about that, Hunter?”

“My calculations have a degree of uncertainty,” said Hunter. “The explosions may take place a little later than I calculated, and, I suspect, not all at once. This makes the First Law weigh on me even more heavily than before.”

“The robots could be anywhere in our own time,” said Chad. “Under the ocean, deep under the earth. Anywhere. Nuclear explosions that occur a substantial distance underground may not affect any form of life at all.”

“If the robots are still functioning, they’ll be on the surface,” said Jane. “They would arrange that deliberately as part of their survival under the Third Law.”

“We should return now,” said Hunter. “We can continue these deliberations later.”

“All right,” said Jane. “MC 1, you will continue to cooperate with us in every way. You won’t make any attempt to escape our custody or to avoid further examinations. The First Law requires that you be studied. If Wayne makes contact with you again, you will remember to interpret my instructions under the Second Law in the knowledge that a First Law imperative is behind them.”

“Acknowledged,” said MC 1.

“I’ll start packing up the camp,” said Steve.

The team returned to the Bohung Institute less than a minute after they had left. As soon as Hunter saw that the particle shower had ended and the process was turned off, he immediately rushed out of the unit. Hunter was hoping to catch Wayne in the room, but he was not there.

No one else was either.

Steve climbed out next and helped Jane. MC 1 aided Chad. Meanwhile, apparently at Hunter’s radioed signal, R. Ishihara entered the room. Ishihara had been waiting outside the room for half a minute, as Hunter had instructed before they had left.

“Has anyone left this room?” Hunter asked.

“No,” said Ishihara. “Have you completed your mission?”

“Our trip is over but only partly successful,” said Hunter, with quiet formality. “A new security problem has arisen. Dr. Wayne Nystrom may come into F-12 or attempt to leave. I understand now that you cooperated with him under the Second Law earlier. If at all possible, you must apprehend him and hold him for me under a First Law concern.”

“Acknowledged.” Ishihara walked into the room and waited patiently. “I heard the equipment in use for several seconds twice between the time of your departure and your return. Perhaps that was he, arriving and leaving again.”

Hunter nodded impassively.

Steve started lifting gear out of the big sphere. MC 1 got out and stood motionless. While Steve unpacked the equipment, Hunter accessed the records of the unit’s use that were stored in the control panel.

“Are you finding anything important?” Chad asked Hunter.

“Yes,” said Hunter stiffly. “Wayne has come and gone, as Ishihara suggested. Let me explain. I did not dare time our return any closer to when we left. The First Law prevented me from taking a risk as serious as meeting ourselves. Wayne, as a human, was able to take a greater risk with his own life.”

“You think he got back here ahead of us?” Jane asked. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Hunter’s voice had a monotone that he had never used before. “The standard records in the control panel say nothing about additional trips into the past. That is why I did not see them before. MC 1, can you, explain this?”

“Yes. I was the last of the components to travel. I erased all the records of the previous trips but could not erase the record of my own. Consequently you were able to track me.”

At the odd sound of his voice, everyone turned to listen to Hunter.

“This time, instead of just reading the control panel, I analyzed power usage and the extent and intensity of the particle showers recorded by the internal monitors of the system. That process has given me enough information to re-create the erased records, using the trips on record to the Late Cretaceous for calibrations.”

“What have you found?” Jane asked softly.

“Nine time trips into the past have been taken. That accounts for the six component robots fleeing, Wayne’s trip back to the Late Cretaceous, and ours … plus one more.”

“So he’s been here and gone,” said Steve. “But you can calculate where each of the component robots went?”

“Yes,” said Hunter. “The last trip into the past matches one of the other five trips. It clearly represents Wayne’s pursuit of another component robot.”

“What do we do next?” Steve asked. “We have to make sure that MC 1 is secure,” said Hunter. “Right now, we will all go to MC Governor’s office. I will arrange for a Security escort to meet us on the way.”

“You sound worried,” said Jane. “What is it?”

“No matter how long Wayne remains in the past, he may come back at any time of his choosing. This time I will leave Ishihara here in the room to apprehend Wayne in the expectation that he will come back soon.”

“That sounds good to me,” said Steve.

“Ishihara may catch Wayne,” said Hunter. “However, Wayne may anticipate this plan. He could come back far enough in the future that unpredictable factors will obtain here. I do not dare interfere with the equipment in any way; the First Law will not let me take any risk with his ability to return. At the moment I want to get MC 1 away from this room.”

Ishihara remained on guard in the room. Hunter walked out with MC 1, followed by the three humans. He explained to them that he was radioing the city computer for a Security detail and vehicle. When the vehicle arrived, the detail transported everyone to MC Governor’s office.

Steve saw that a Security robot was on duty there. Hunter greeted him briefly out loud, apparently so that the humans could hear what he was saying. “Horatio, please be on the alert for Dr. Wayne Nystrom. Apprehend him and hold him if you can.”

“Agreed,” said Horatio.

Hunter took his own party inside the office and closed the door.

“Well?” Steve said. “Now what? You’re acting a little strange, Hunter.”

“Maybe you have forgotten the question of whether or not we would change history by even small actions that we took in the past,” said Hunter.

“I did,” Steve admitted. “But I don’t see anything different so far.”

“I don’t, either,” said Jane. “We have come back safely, haven’t we?”

“So far,” Hunter said carefully, “I believe that we have returned to the world just as we left it. That means that none of the changes we caused have brought about noticeable changes.”

“Then the chaos theory applied to time is incorrect,” said Chad.

“Precise calculations may have to be re-examined,” said Hunter. “The degree of accuracy is still in question.”

“Something else is bothering you,” said Jane. “Ever since we got back, your manner has been stiff. What is it?”

“A little while ago, I accessed the news through the city computer to look for changes,” said Hunter. “The networks have just reported an unexplained nuclear explosion of considerable size on the island nation of Jamaica. That is where Wayne went, after another one of the component robots.”

Steve felt a tingling sensation. “A nuclear explosion?”

“It set off tidal waves,” said Hunter. “They have smashed into port cities allover the Caribbean Sea, including Miami and the Florida coast. The coasts on the Gulf of Mexico will be affected too. Millions of people have died and others are injured and homeless.”

No one spoke for a moment.

“Wait a minute,” said Chad. “We only left here a short time ago. Why didn’t we hear about this before we left?”

“None of us was paying attention to the news,” said Hunter. “I, for one, was focused on preparing for our trip. And the news is very recent.”

“That’s right,” said Steve. “The trip was all we talked about.”

“You feel you have failed under the First Law,” said Jane quietly.

“Correct,” said Hunter. “The only reason that I have not become completely nonfunctional is that I have had to secure MC 1 here and inform the three of you in private. Next I shall report my failure under the First Law to the Governor Robot Oversight Committee, so that they can find another robot to take over my task. After that, I will shut down.”

“Not so fast,” Jane said sharply. “Under the Second Law, I order you to hear me out.”

“What is it?”

“You may still be able to reverse the situation,” said Jane. “You’ve already gathered valuable experience from the first trip. You can do a better job than another robot. Let’s all go after MC 2 in Jamaica back in whatever time he chose.”

“He went back only a few centuries, well into human history.” Hunter looked at her with interest. “You feel I could correct my failures?”

“The Jamaican explosions will never happen if we can get back there and bring MC 2 home again with us,” said Steve. “All those lives will be saved.”

“I see,” said Hunter cautiously. “We can leave MC 1 guarded here in this office, where Wayne cannot reach him. However, I must ask you this. When I hired you three, I thought this trip would require only one quick trip into the past. My calculations failed in that estimate, as well. You would be willing to work with me again, even after I failed the first time?”

“Sure.” Steve shrugged.

“Of course,” said Jane, smiling.

“I would,” said Chad. “But you won’t need a paleontologist just a couple of centuries into the past. I guess I should say goodbye.”

Clearly relieved at the new plan, Hunter became more natural and spontaneous again. “Goodbye, Chad. Thank you for your contribution. We could not have caught MC 1 without you. I am authorizing through the city computer that your fee be credited to your account right now.”

“Thank you, Hunter,” said Chad, shaking his hand. “I have much more than my fee. I was the first human to ride a dinosaur and I’ve seen more live ones than anyone else in my field.” He patted his belt computer. “The data I’ve brought back will make history of its own.”

Jane threw her arms around Chad and hugged him. “Goodbye, Chad.”

“Goodbye, Jane.”

Steve grinned awkwardly and held out his hand. “Chad?”

Chad shook hands with him. “Steve, you’re okay. I guess I learned a lot about living in the wild on this trip. You know your stuff.”

“So do you, Chad.” Steve punched him on the arm. “You handled that dinosaur stampede real well.”

“Thanks.”

Chad waved to them all and left the office.

“Where do we go next, Hunter?” Steve asked. “I’ll need different equipment this time.”

“I will have to hire an historian, too,” said Hunter. “So we will not be leaving right away. We have to do too much preparation. You two should indulge in some human comforts, such as a good dinner and a full night’s sleep.”

“Good idea,” said Steve.

“Quit stalling, Hunter,” Jane said excitedly. “Come on. Where and when is our next destination?”

“Port Royal, Jamaica, in 1668,” said Hunter. “The time of Sir Henry Morgan, pirate and privateer on the Spanish Main.”

Marauder

2140 A.D.

1

R. HUNTER SAT in the chair of Mojave Center Governor, in the Governor robot’s office, considering his next move. The office was located in the underground desert city called Mojave Center. Hunter was the new, specially designed humaniform robot who had recently been finished and programmed according to the specifications of the Governor Robot Oversight Committee.

The scientists on the Oversight Committee had created Hunter to find and return Mojave Center Governor. One of six experimental Governor robots designed to run complete, self-contained cities like Mojave Center, Mojave Center Governor was missing. In his absence, the city computer and individual positronic robots had taken over his responsibilities.

The other five experimental Governor robots had malfunctioned at approximately the same time, suggesting a basic design flaw. Since Mojave Center Governor was the only exception, the committee members wanted to study him as part of their investigation of the problem. To avoid being taken apart, MC Governor had fled.

Each of the Governor robots could divide at will into six component humaniform robots. One of the component robots who comprised MC Governor now stood motionless, shut down, in one corner of the office. Hunter and his team of three humans had brought him back from the distant past. The other five had also chosen to hide in earlier times.

For the last several minutes, Hunter had been monitoring the news through his internal receiver.

“A nuclear explosion on the southern coast of Jamaica yesterday continues to pile up casualties,” said the announcer. “Fatalities are estimated in the hundreds of thousands, and within the next few hours, tidal waves will strike the coasts of other islands throughout the Caribbean. Over the coming week, these tidal waves are expected to strike heavily populated areas in Haiti, Puerto Rico, many other islands, and the coasts of Central and South America, causing incalculable destruction. Little time remains for emergency measures to prevent even more flooding and the suffering that will follow ….”

Hunter shut off the reception. The extent of the disaster was clear. He had a lot of work ahead to prevent that explosion.

First Hunter had to brief the committee on his progress through a conference call that was linked to him through the Mojave Center city computer.

“Good day,” said Hunter, as the four familiar human faces of the Governor Robot Oversight Committee appeared on his internal video screen.

The committee members greeted him with eager anticipation.

“You have good news, I hope.” Dr. Redfield, a tall, slender blonde, spoke first. “What have you learned? Have you located MC Governor already?”

“Part of him,” said Hunter, responding with precise accuracy.

“Part of him,” Professor Post repeated thoughtfully. He stroked his pointed, black beard. “I take this to mean, then, that MC Governor divided into his component robots before your team could apprehend him.”

“Yes, that is correct,” said Hunter. “However, we have apprehended MC 1, the first gestalt robot, and returned him safely here.”

“That was fast,” said Dr. Chin, surprised. She was the short, pretty Chinese American with long, black hair. “Where did you find MC 1?”

Hunter hesitated, at least by his fast robotic standards. He and his team of human colleagues had followed MC 1 back in time to the Late Cretaceous Period of prehistory using a modified device in Mojave Center. They had found MC 1 in a forest full of dinosaurs.

The reality of time travel was a revolutionary discovery; Hunter did not want to mention it casually, without considering the long-term effects such a device might have on humans. The other members of the team had agreed to keep the secret until he chose to reveal it. Any significant action in the past might change human history in the present, creating unimaginable harm to people. The First Law of the Three Laws of Robotics that governed all robots’ behavior said, “A robot may not injure a human being, or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.”

For the present, Hunter decided not to reveal the existence of the time travel device.

“We found MC 1 in Alberta, Canada,” Hunter said simply. His statement was true; the event just happened to have occurred many millions of years in the past.

“Shouldn’t you be looking for the others there, too?” Dr. Chin asked.

“No,” said Hunter. “Our information is not complete, but the other component robots appear to have separated.”

“I don’t understand something,” said Dr. Khanna, in his Hindi accent. “You captured MC 1 very quickly, considering that he was in Alberta and you were assigned to the task only yesterday. Now you have returned to Mojave Center already. How did you manage to work so efficiently?”

“I have a very capable team,” said Hunter cautiously. They had returned to the present only a short time after they had left, though they had actually spent several long, difficult days in the past trying to capture MC 1. So to anyone in the present, they had not been gone from Mojave Center very long at all. “However, Chad Mora has completed his work for me. I will need a replacement for him, this time a specialist in the history of the Caribbean.”

“Please give us a report on your first mission,” said Dr. Khanna.

“I would prefer to give you a complete report on concluding my assignment,” said Hunter.

“I think if we are expected to continue hiring assistants for you, we can require a report at this stage,” said Dr. Khanna, raising one eyebrow.

“I remind you that I am not a human seeking to keep a job,” said Hunter. “I can work most efficiently with a team of human experts. You may decide how much efficiency you are willing to allow me.”

“All right, hold it,” said Dr. Chin. “I think we can wait for a complete report. The important thing is to get MC Governor back in one piece.”

Dr. Khanna shrugged, frowning.

“How is the rest of your team?” Dr. Redfield asked. “Everyone worked out, I assume.”

“Yes,” said Hunter. “The roboticist, Jane Maynard, is definitely a help. Steve Chang, our general assistant, has a range of pragmatic experience that I and the more highly educated specialists simply lack. No amount of library data accessible to me can substitute for their combined contributions. They are still here in Mojave Center and will continue working with me.”

“Even so,” said Dr. Khanna. “I don’t understand exactly how you are conducting your search.”

“I don’t think it matters,” said Professor Post. “Since MC Governor has divided into his components, the assignment we gave Hunter is now six times as difficult. The fact that he succeeded so quickly with the first part of it convinces me that his judgment is sound.”

“I agree,” said Dr. Redfield. “I can wait for your report too.”

“So can I,” said Professor Post.

“Very well,” said Dr. Khanna. Hunter was relieved. If they had given him direct orders, he would have had no choice but to obey them. The Second Law of Robotics was, “A robot must obey the orders given it by human beings except where such orders would conflict with the First Law.” He also decided not to report to the committee that Dr. Wayne Nystrom had appeared on the scene, trying to get control of MC 1 before Hunter could. If the committee members knew more, they might change their minds and try to participate more directly after all.

“Tell you what,” said Dr. Redfield. “We will authorize you to make direct contact with the new assistant you need to hire, instead of giving us the list as you did last time. Have this individual contact us for financial arrangements. Is this acceptable?”

“Yes,” said Hunter. “Thank you. Is there anything else?”

“Can you give us an estimated time of completion?” Dr. Khanna asked.

“No,” said Hunter.

After completing the call, Hunter paused to consider what he had done. That final answer to the Committee was not entirely true. If the time travel in all the future missions turned out as well as it had in the first mission, he could estimate completion in five days. The team could accomplish that by returning from each mission the same day they left, no matter how long the missions took in the past. However, a five-day estimate might further trigger Dr. Khanna’s curiosity.

Furthermore, Hunter was not sure how to give them a suitable final report without revealing the use of time travel. At the moment, in his own mind, he was just barely able to justify not giving the committee an estimated time of completion. He had decided that if Dr. Khanna placed obstacles in his way, it would interfere with his ability to prevent harm to humans as a result of potential changes the robots might bring about in the course of history. That interpretation of the First Law could be debated, but it had allowed him to avoid giving the estimate.

Hunter had the city computer use its access to employment agencies and lists of scholars to find a historian. Most of them, of course, were not technically available; the best ones were employed in schools or research centers, or pursuing independent projects of their own. However, time travel altered the possibilities a great deal.

Hunter now realized that he would in all likelihood bring his team back to the present only a few moments after they had left, just as he had last time. That meant anyone who was willing and able to travel to Mojave Center and back home the same day would have enough time for the job. The fee was considerable, especially for a task that would not take any time from their other commitments. Some danger would exist, of course, but with Hunter leading the team, the First Law would require him to give as much protection as a very large, powerful, state of the art robot could provide.

The immediate problem was persuading anyone of this without revealing the secret of time travel prematurely.

As soon as he had a short list of candidates, he began calling them. Within an hour, he hired a historian named Rita Chavez, who specialized in the history of the Caribbean during the period that Hunter’s team would visit, the year 1668. She arranged to fly immediately from her home in Miami to the landing facility on the ground above Mojave Center.

Hunter had remained vague, however, about the details of the job. Instead, he had told her that she could still cancel her commitment after she had heard the details in person. The argument that she would receive a substantial fee without missing much more than her travel time to and from Mojave Center had clearly made an impression on her.

Hunter checked the time. Jane and Steve had been in need of a complete dinner and a good night’s sleep after their trip back to the Late Cretaceous Period. He estimated that they were still asleep in their hotel rooms. By the time they woke up, Rita would probably have arrived.

As a robot, he had no need of rest as such; solar converters blended into his skin energized him when he was exposed to sunlight. Inside, of course, he could simply plug into the city’s power grid if necessary. While he waited, he decided to gather new data and review the situation.

“City computer,” said Hunter, through his radio link. “Please locate and present all data relevant to Jamaica in 1668. I will review it and copy selected portions.”

“Acknowledged,” said the city computer.

Hunter knew that this kind of quick research could not replace the advanced expertise Rita would bring. Still, he wanted to know as much as he could. When the information was available, he transferred it to his own memory.

The ongoing challenge in Hunter’s mission, of course, was that Mojave Center’s component robots were motivated by the Third Law of Robotics, “A robot must protect his own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Laws.” The component robots were afraid that when the committee had reassembled them into Mojave Center Governor, the Governor robot would be permanently dismantled and destroyed. They were physically small in stature, but they had their robotic intelligence and humaniform shapes to help them hide among humans.

Shortly before Rita’s VTOL jet was due to arrive, Hunter received a call through his internal link.

“R. Hunter. This is the city computer calling.”

“Acknowledged,” said Hunter.

“I have a conference call from Steve and Jane for you.”

“Patch them through.”

“Hey, Hunter. Where are you? Still in Mojave Center somewhere?” Steve asked cheerfully.

“Morning, Hunter,” said Jane.

“Greetings,” said Hunter. “I am waiting for the new member of our team. She should arrive soon and I want to introduce you immediately.”

“You have completed your sleep courses in English and Spanish of the 1600s?”

“Si,” said Steve.

“I’m hungry,” said Jane. “Let’s meet in a restaurant. Bring her down.”

“Where shall we meet?”

“Debbie’s Diner. Jane and I already decided. It’s on a side street called Foursquare.”

“We will meet you there,” said Hunter. “Bye.”

“Okay!”

Hunter saw that the time had come to meet Rita. Normally, citizens would ride the slidewalks to travel through each level of Mojave Center. Hunter wanted privacy with her, however, and used his link to the city computer to commandeer a Security vehicle. A Security robot brought the electric vehicle to Hunter at MC Governor’s office and turned it over to him. Hunter drove it up to the city terminal, in the top level of the city.

Hunter met Rita Chavez and introduced himself. Rita, who was short, slender, and dark-haired, wore a gray business suit and had a reserved, professional demeanor. They climbed into the vehicle and Hunter began the drive down to the restaurant. He used his radio link to warn robots ahead that they were approaching as he drove. Only the presence of human pedestrians required his ringing the melodic warning tone.

“When we spoke earlier,” said Rita, “you declined to explain the entire job over the phone. What are you paying me to do?”

Hunter looked around. No one was nearby. “All right. But I must have your agreement that you will keep this confidential. A scientific development of grave importance is involved.”

“But you’re willing to trust me with it?”

“I require your help.”

“All right,” said Rita. “I agree not to reveal your secret.”

Hunter omitted the scientific details, but told her about the time travel sphere. Then he gave her a quick explanation of the previous mission and what he could predict about the next one.

“I’m amazed.” Rita stared at him in shock. “Your entire team has already been to the time of dinosaurs?”

“That is right.”

“Hunter, I have to ask you something. I agreed to keep this secret and I will. But several people already know, including the man who preceded me and also this Dr. Nystrom you just told me about. Someone is going to start talking sooner or later. It’s just too exciting to keep quiet forever. What will you do then?”

“I must confine my focus for now,” said Hunter. “Only reproducible evidence matters in a scientific conclusion, so a small amount of early talk will not prove anything. I have the Bohung Institute secure at the moment. No ‘matter how long we have to chase component robots in the past, I hope to complete the search for MC Governor very soon, in real time counted from his initial disappearance.”

“Then what will you do about keeping this secret?”

“I have not yet decided. I also prefer not to discuss it further now. The First Law will govern my actions.”

“I see.” Her tone was cool and professional, revealing little of her opinion.

Hunter drove in silence for several moments.

“You told me you need my expertise as a historian regarding Jamaica in 1668,” said Rita. “But how do you know that MC 2 will be in Jamaica at that time?”

“I took the information from the device the component robots used to flee,” said Hunter. “But there is more. When they fled, they miniaturized themselves to microscopic size. The process made some of their atoms unstable. The time travel altered that miniaturization so that it is temporary. According to my calculations, MC 2 will return to normal size on a certain day in 1668. We certainly cannot locate him before that, but I want to catch him as soon as possible. Otherwise, once he starts interacting with other humans, he may alter the course of history.”

“I know it’s theoretically possible to change history,” Rita said doubtfully. “But it depends on the importance of his actions.”

“I assume you have followed the news,” said Hunter. “You know that a major explosion took place on the southern coast of Jamaica yesterday.”

“Hm? Oh, yes. Wasn’t that terrible? No one knows what it was, but the tidal waves are hitting all over the Caribbean. It’s terrible.”

“Yes,” said Hunter. “That was actually MC 2 exploding. The instability of the component robots’ atoms causes them to explode with nuclear force when they reach the approximate time from which they originally left, give or take a day or so.”

“Oh, no.” Rita stared at him in horror. “I’m beginning to understand.” She hesitated. “They didn’t explode all at once?”

“No. Apparently the component robots of MC Governor himself also have varied levels of instability. Since the others have not exploded yet, we will go to Jamaica. When we bring MC 2 back, this explosion will never have happened.” Hunter spoke stiffly, almost defensively. “If I fail to retrieve him, then I will have failed the First Law in allowing so much harm to so many people.”

“I’m sure you can get him,” said Rita. “After all, you got MC 1. You probably won’t even need me, except for a little help here and there.”

“I want you to understand that, for now, I have withheld the fact that the Jamaican explosion is related to MC 2 from the committee,” said Hunter. “And certainly from the public.”

She looked up at him, waiting.

“I expect to eliminate the problem, in which case an explanation will be unnecessary.” He stopped the vehicle in front of Debbie’s Diner. “Here we are. I will introduce you to the rest of the team.”

2

DEBBIE’S DINER WAS decorated in the fashion of a small Missouri town from the early twentieth century. The furniture was made of cedar, the deep red and white of the wood sealed by a clear preservative. Frilly blue and white curtains hung in all the windows. Jars of fruit preserves made by hand were for sale in the front.

Steve Chang had already requested a comer table in the back. He and Jane Maynard were waiting there when Hunter brought in Rita and made introductions. Hunter looked around, appraising the room.

As he did, Steve looked too. No one was seated close to them. Humans couldn’t hear them, but of course a robot could increase his aural sensitivity.

“What’s wrong?” Jane asked.

“We can get acquainted here,” said Hunter. “However, the area is extremely open, offering virtually no privacy. I suggest we postpone our discussion of specific plans until we move to a secure location.”

“Aw, Hunter.” Steve grinned. “Are you kidding?”

“Of course not,” Hunter said stiffly.

Rita was looking back and forth between them, curiously.

“Hunter, you hired me for my pragmatic experience, as opposed to the formal education possessed by the rest of your team. Right?”

“Of course.”

“Well, take my word for it. As long as we don’t discuss the science and technology required for our trip, then anything else we say will go completely unnoticed. Frankly, nobody believes in time travel.”

“I think you have a point,” said Jane. “They’ll think we’re going to a costume party or making a historical movie or something.”

“I accept your argument,” said Hunter, again glancing around warily.

“May I ask a question, then?” Rita asked. “I would like to know in more detail exactly what is expected of me. I understand that, in general, I’m to help with information about the history and culture of Jamaica in 1668 … but what do you want, exactly?”

“While Jane and Steve were resting up from our last mission, I gathered clothing and equipment,” said Hunter. “I need Steve to look it over for practicality and you to screen it for anachronisms.”

“I see,” said Rita.

“It’ll be easier this time,” said Steve. “Last time, we had to take nearly everything important with us. Now we’re going back to a time and place that already has human necessities. But we’ll want vaccinations for disease.”

“I’ll work up a list of likely ones,” said Rita. “All the microbes will have evolved some over the years, but we should take the precautions we can.”

As the group ordered the meals from a robot wait er, Steve studied Rita. She was petite and pretty, and coolly professional. At least she hadn’t started needling him, the way the paleontologist on the last mission, Chad Mora, had done from the moment they met. Steve and Chad had parted friends but they had not started out that way. Rita’s reserve was a welcome change.

“I’ve never heard of Port Royal, Jamaica,” said Steve. “Not that I’ve been to the Caribbean. But I’ve never seen it on the ads for tourists or heard it mentioned when hurricanes are in the news. Where is it?”

“Under the water.” Rita smiled nicety. “Port Royal was located on the southern coast of Jamaica, to the east. It was across a bay from modern Kingston. In the seventeenth century, it was the center of Jamaican buccaneer activity, but a big earthquake hit it in 1692. Its remains have been under the water ever since.”

“Well, that explains that.” Steve grinned at Jane. “No wonder I’ve never heard of it.”

“No wonder,” Jane agreed.

“We should all have weapons. I think.” said Rita. “For our own protection.”

“I will have to protect all of you under the First Law,” said Hunter. “I am much stronger than any human my size, and much quicker. As long as we stay together. I can handle this task.”

“We’re going to enter a very rough, violent culture,” said Rita. “Port Royal is even more violent than most areas were during the 1600s.”

“Taking weapons is a problem for me,” said Hunter. “One of my greatest concerns is that we avoid changing history. We should take back as few items as possible. Any material we take back beyond the bare minimum increases the chance that we will alter events in the future — that is, after 1668. Our own time might not be waiting here for us when we come home. That possibility makes it a First Law concern.”

“I don’t know how to impress upon you how dangerous Port Royal will be,” said Rita. “In particular, they will look at Jane and me in a very different way from what we are used to in our own time. You hired me for my expertise, and I believe we should all carry at least good-sized knives, if not pistols and swords.”

“This may be too great a risk —” Hunter began.

“I suggest a compromise,” said Steve.

“What kind?” Jane asked. “After all, Hunter, keeping us safe is also part of your First Law requirement.”

“We’ll take some money back with us,” said Steve. “Coins from that time, 1668 or earlier. Spanish coins, English coins, whatever Rita says is appropriate. When we get there, we’ll buy what we need, then leave it behind when we come home. That way we won’t take anything that originated after 1668 back with us.”

“‘That would satisfy my concern,” said Rita. “But we’ll have to keep our wealth well-hidden from the buccaneers around us.”

“A compromise,” Hunter said carefully. “Rita, are coins from that time and place readily available?”

“Well, they exist,” said Rita. “Many of them were gold, so those are very expensive. Many are in museums and galleries now, so those aren’t available at all. But some coins from that time can be found for a reasonable price. I would try collectors and dealers in the Caribbean.”

“I have a certain number of such coins already,” said Hunter. “I would prefer not to delay the trip while we wait for more.”

“You know,” said Rita. “They could be faked easily and cheaply. Or would that be too risky?”

“Fakes would increase the chance of altering history,” said Hunter. “We would increase the local money supply.”

“How much do you have?” Rita asked.

“One kilogram of silver coin,” said Hunter. “The denominations vary.”

Rita thought a moment. “Exact prices fluctuated, depending on what booty the buccaneers brought back at any given time. Barter was very common. For our purposes, however, I think that should do if we are careful with it.”

“This will be a good move for more reasons than just getting weapons,” Steve said. “We’ll want to rent lodging and buy food, too.”

“We will take two-way radio transmitters this time too,” said Hunter.

“Yeah! That’ll avoid some stupid problems we had last time,” said Steve.

“They must be disguised,” said Rita. “If anyone in 1668 hears voices coming out of the air, we might be accused of sorcery of some kind and killed on the spot. Buccaneers were very superstitious, impulsive people.”

“I have the transmitters ready,” said Hunter. “In the form of lapel pins.”

“We should wear them out of sight,” said Rita. “Jewelry will invite thieves.”

“This whole arrangement sounds good to me,” said Steve. “I think this mission may be safer than the last one. Food and shelter will be waiting and we won’t have to watch for Tyrannosaurus rexes stampeding after us.”

Jane laughed. “I’m convinced.”

During dinner, Rita had Hunter access the city computer. In consultation with it, she gave Hunter a list of vaccinations that the human members of the team would need. He arranged to have the serums waiting at the Institute.

After dinner, Hunter drove the team through Mojave Center to the Bohung Institute. Rita began briefing them on what to expect in Port Royal, including some of the sailing terms and other historical references they might need in the language. Hunter stored it easily, of course.

As Hunter listened to Rita, he also eavesdropped on some of the people around them. Everyone seemed to be talking about the explosion in Jamaica. The toll of death, injuries, and destruction was still climbing. The world community was rushing to help with emergency supplies and services. Experts around the world were speculating on the cause, but only Hunter and his team knew what it was.

Hunter’s sense of failure under the First Law for allowing so many humans to suffer and die was increasing. He wanted to go back into the past as soon as possible to prevent the disaster. He was making an unusual effort to concentrate his attention on his duties. Reviewing the moves he had already made helped to distract him.

Before MC Governor had left, he had arranged for the city computer to coordinate the duties that were normally his. Hunter had found that the system was functioning effectively, so he had not interfered with it. Earlier that day, Hunter had also arranged, through the city computer, for the entire Bohung Institute to be closed down. He had cited emergency conditions that he had classified as “unexplained.” It was now guarded by a full detail of Security robots.

This detail was temporarily under the authority of R. Ishihara. He was the robot who was normally assigned to Room F-12, where the experimental time travel unit was located. Originally designed for miniaturization, it had been modified by MC Governor for this second purpose. Hunter felt that leaving an Institute robot in charge was appropriate.

After dinner, Hunter drove the team in the Security vehicle up to the Bohung Institute. By the time he pulled up at the main entrance, he had already alerted Ishihara that they were coming. Hunter had also transmitted Rita’s appearance, fingerprints, and voiceprint so that Ishihara could add them to the screening data for members of Hunter’s team. It was just a precaution. Hunter fully expected that by the time he brought Rita through the Institute again on the way out, MC 2 would have been apprehended.

The Security detail was there partly to prevent unexpected visitors from entering, since the employees had already been notified that the Institute was closed. Charging the guards with the protection of the humans on Hunter’s team under the First Law meant that no humans could use the Second Law to countermand his instructions. However, Hunter’s main reason for assigning the detail was to capture Dr. Wayne Nystrom if at all possible. The team had last seen him in the Late Cretaceous Period, but he could be anywhere at any time by now.

Hunter led his team into Room F-12, where Ishihara was personally stationed. The room was very large and dominated by an opaque sphere about fifteen meters in diameter. The rest of the room was lined with countertops filled with computers, monitors, a communications console, and miscellaneous office items that had been in use when Hunter had suddenly closed down the Institute.

Inside, Ishihara passed out the oral vaccines to the humans, who took them immediately. Then he waited by the door. Everyone turned to Hunter for instructions.

Hunter took them to a small stack of clothes and accessories on a counter.

“Steve, Rita,” said Hunter. “These are the clothes I gathered while Steve and Jane were sleeping. If they pass inspection, we can leave soon. I hired the robot tailor from the city personnel department to design and make them based on research I did in the library. I gave him Steve’s and Jane’s sizes. Rita’s clothes may need alteration, which I can have done immediately. Since we will be in the tropics, the clothes are made of cotton, not wool. I directed that no modern synthetic materials be present in any of them. Steve and I have already agreed that we will not have to take any packs of survival gear with us.”

Steve picked up a loose, white shirt and knee breeches, shaking them out to take a look at them. “Good enough, I’d say. I’ll try them on in a minute.”

First he examined the other clothing, which included two long brown skirts for Rita and Jane. “These are practical enough, I think. These will help us blend in when we first arrive. That’s the important part.”

“The clothing design is correct,” said Rita, taking items from Steve. “But this belt buckle is an anachronism.”

“In what way?” Hunter asked.

“The buckle is made of stainless steel, a more recent development,” said Rita, tossing the belt to him. She held the hem of one skirt up close to peer at it. “Did you tell the tailor robot to avoid synthetic thread too?”

“No,” said Hunter. “I was thinking of fabric when I gave him instructions.”

“Better contact him to make sure,” said Rita. She quickly glanced over all the clothes, including the shoes. “Everything else is acceptable.”

“Take these,” said Hunter, handing each of them a communicator. They were simple, decorative, silver buttons with a tiny speaker hole in the center, a pin on the back, and a tiny button on the side. “Pin them to the underside of your lapels, out of sight. That way, they will be close enough to speak into without attracting a lot of attention.”

While the humans took turns changing their clothes in an adjacent room, Hunter called the tailor robot about the thread. He changed his own clothes at the same time. The thread was satisfactory.

“Fortunately,” said Hunter, “the tailor robot understood my meaning when I asked him to use only natural fibers of cotton. Steve, are the belts necessary? We can save time if we do not bother to replace the buckles.”

“No, we can get by without them, at least at first. We can buy some there if we need them.”

“Good,” said Hunter. “Rita, how are your clothes?”

“How do I look?” She smiled and did a little twirl in her loose blouse and full skirt. “They’re a little big, but I think good enough. We don’t need to delay the trip to make minor alterations.” Now that she was out of her business suit, her manner seemed more casual.

“You look fine,” said Steve. “Hunter, shall we go?”

“I believe we are about ready to go,” said Hunter. “Everyone’s communicator is in place, I see; good. Before we go, however, I want to brief you again on the matter of altering history.”

“I think I’ve already heard it,” Steve said wryly.” Jane too.”

“Rita must hear it,” said Hunter.

“Yeah, well.” Steve rolled his eyes and sat down in a chair. “All right, let’s get it over with.”

“I have estimated that Mojave Center 2, the robot we seek, will return to full size from his miniaturized state about the time we arrive. That is how I chose the destination in time for our trip, since we cannot possibly find him while he is still microscopic. The greatest danger in this mission is that before we can apprehend him, he will take actions that alter the time line of history from 1668 to the present day.”

“I already know that, Hunter,” Rita said patiently.

“I have not made my point yet.”

“Maybe you don’t have to,” said Rita. “Hunter, as a historian, I understand the theories behind your concern, but let me give you a counterargument, all right?”

“Go ahead,” said Hunter. After all, what she had said earlier was right; he had hired her for her expertise.

Steve pointedly faked a yawn and pretended to fall asleep.

3

ACTUALLY, STEVE LISTENED with amusement as Rita earnestly argued with Hunter. Jane seemed seriously interested in their difference of opinion. Hunter’s face, as usual, was calm and hard to read.

“On the surface of it, the history in this time and place really isn’t very important,” said Rita. “You see, the depredations of the buccaneers from Jamaica in this era were a side issue to European wars. In fact, much of the booty that resulted from their raids never left the Caribbean.”

“Wait a minute,” said Steve. “I know my history isn’t great, but I remember something about this stuff. I learned in school that the Spanish were taking huge amounts of gold back to Spain at that time. Sir Francis Drake and Walter Raleigh and the Spanish Armada — all that stuff. And that the English kept raiding Spanish ships and taking a lot of gold back to England. What about that?”

“Your history is correct as far as it goes, but that was a century earlier, during the 1500s.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“No reason to be. That was simply a different phase of the same era. But even more to the point, Port Royal itself and three thousand of its inhabitants will be wiped out in the 1692 earthquake that I mentioned. So this town is not even going to last very long after we’re there — only one short generation after we leave.”

“So you don’t feel that the events in Jamaica in 1668 are going to mean much to the overall direction of history?” Jane asked thoughtfully.

“No, I don’t. I believe that history is driven by major developments in technology and economics, which in turn trigger social and political change.”

“I am still worried about the application of chaos theory to our missions into the past,” said Hunter. “You are familiar with the theory?”

“Yes,” said Rita. “It’s an application of a theory from physics, applied to time and, therefore, to history. Basically, it says that any change in the past, no matter how small, will send out continuing ripple effects that will eventually change history greatly.”

“That is right.”

“As a historian, I’ve never been convinced that chaos theory truly applies to history.”

“I’m no scientist, “said Steve, grinning. “But if I understand this theory at all, then our previous trip to the dinosaur age disproved it a little.”

“What do you mean?” Rita asked.

“We made some changes. I mean, we captured a dinosaur to ride, trampled on a lot of plants, and caused a stampede. But when we got back, everything was pretty much the same.”

“The question is where the threshold of change lies,” said Hunter. “That is, how many changes must take place, or how important must they be, to set a course of permanent change?”

“I’m afraid we’ll be the ones to find out,” said Jane. “As the first time travelers, we may just find out the hard way, by making changes we don’t want to make.”

“Maybe not,” said Rita. “Look, at your trip to the Late Cretaceous Period — one expectation might have been that minor changes from that long ago could have caused a divergent time line that would be very different by the time events reached the present — that the changes would become more extreme every second for millions of years. But that didn’t happen. So another theory is that so much time was involved that the sheer weight of random events neutralized the changes you caused.”

“That would not really be a form of chaos theory at all,” said Hunter.

“Exactly,” said Rita.

“You mean we didn’t have to be so careful after all?” Steve grinned at Jane. “All that extra effort.”

“I disagree,” said Hunter firmly. “By the argument Rita just presented, the time line marked from 1668 is much more fragile. Instead of many millions of years for events to neutralize any changes we might cause, only a few centuries will pass. That may not be enough time to absorb the effects of what we do. We still have to be as careful as before not to make unnecessary changes.”

“All right,” said Steve, with an exaggerated sigh. “Can we go now?”

“Yes. I shall set the controls while you three enter the sphere,” said Hunter. “Just do not take the danger of MC 2’5 changing history lightly either. Please remember that when MC 2 reaches full size, his interpretation of the First Law may not be centered on preserving the future at all. Yet saving a human from harm in the 16005, when that person actually died according to history, could mean harming all the humans whose history and future are changed. That is theoretical, however, and the immediate danger is tangible. So we have to assume that the fugitive MC 2 is a real danger to the course of history, no matter what theory you believe in.”

“Yes, I agree with that,” said Rita.

While Hunter moved to the control panel, Steve caught Jane’s eye with a grin and shook his head. Sometimes Hunter’s boring repetition of this theoretical stuff reminded him of being a kid in school. Still, he realized that Rita’s disbelief in chaos theory was probably worrying Hunter more than the robot was admitting.

Ishihara still remained by the door, where he would wait to apprehend Dr. Nystrom if he appeared. Hunter had told him that stopping Dr. Nystrom was a First Law imperative.

Hunter opened the sphere so that the humans could climb into it. The bottom was hard and curved. Designed as a laboratory instrument, it had never been intended to accommodate humans or robots. Steve huddled in the base of the curve with Jane and Rita, waiting for Hunter to set the timer on the controls. Then Hunter joined them; easing inside so as not to land on anyone, he closed the door.

Steve suddenly saw the darkness in the sphere vanish. It was replaced by the sudden brilliance of tropical sunlight. He fell onto a soft bed of green grass. The others tumbled around him.

For a longtime resident of the Mojave Desert such as Steve, the lush green island life of Jamaica was an abrupt change. Tall, full trees and bushes rose up all around them. The trees and brush were full of birds, twittering and chirping at them in startled concern. Colorful flowers bloomed nearby, red and white and orange. He gasped for breath, startled by the humidity of the air.

“It’s beautiful,” said Jane, looking around.

“It looks pretty much the same in our time,” said Rita, sitting up. “More developed, of course, but not really spoiled. Not yet, anyway.”

“It’s late afternoon,” said Steve, observing the position of the sun.

“That is right,” said Hunter. “MC 2 will return to full size again sometime tonight, according to my calculations.”

“Where are we?” Jane asked. “Out on some country road, I see.”

“Yes,” said Hunter. “But not too far from Port Royal. We are less than a quarter mile out of town. I wanted to make sure we landed away from the town, to lessen the chance that someone would happen to see us arrive.”

“No one did, I guess,” said Rita. “This late in the day, the townsfolk will be hurrying to get inside the walls. Anyone who did business from the plantations along this road has probably gone home already.”

“We should join them,” said Steve, getting to his feet. “Or else we’ll be stuck out here in the dark.”

The team began to walk along the rough wagon and horse track. Through the trees to their right, Steve could just see the blue water of the Caribbean. Then he realized that sometimes through the trees to the left, he could see more water of the same color. “Where are we, exactly?”

“Okay,” said Rita. “I guess I should give you a quick geography lesson. We’re on the southeastern coast of the island. That water on our right, to the north, will someday be called Kingston Bay. The city of Kingston itself will be built across the bay, on the far shore.” She pointed to the water on their other side. “That’s the open sea, to the south. We’re walking along a very narrow, long peninsula that the British called the Cagway, a corruption of the Spanish word Caguaya. It stretches westward, defining much of the southern enclosure of the bay. And that’s Port Royal up ahead at the end of it, just coming into sight.”

Steve looked where she was pointing. A few people on carts and horses were just entering the town. Steve found that in the humidity, he was already sweating freely.

“MC 2 can masquerade the same way we are if he gets some clothes,” said Hunter. “Assuming he does, we will have to keep a sharp lookout for someone the right size in order to find him. He is unusually short and slender, virtually identical in build to the other component robots. You saw MC 1 in MC Governor’s office.”

Rita nodded.

“Rita,” said Jane. “What are we going to find in Port Royal when we get there? Is it really going to be full of pirates, or will there be ordinary townspeople there too?”

“Both,” said Rita. “Jamaica is a true British colony. Here’s what happened. About 1630, the island of Tortuga became a pirate stronghold and hideaway. Tortuga isn’t far from here. Just three years ago, in 1665, the various buccaneers and their hangers-on in Tortuga spilled over to Jamaica, which was already ruled by the English.”

“Simple enough,” said Steve.

“Yes, it is. English ships are still raiding Spanish ships for gold being sent from the New World, but the English are now keeping it here, not returning it to England. France nominally rules Tortuga, and lots of French buccaneers will also be present in Port Royal.”

“Is there a difference between pirates and buccaneers?” Jane asked. “Or are they the same thing?”

“A perceptive question.” Rita smiled indulgently. “Here, they’re the same. The word ‘pirate’ means any pirate throughout history. ‘Buccaneer’ means specifically the pirates of the Caribbean during this time. It originally came from the native Arawak tribe’s word buccan, which was a grid of green sticks used to grill strips of meat slowly over a fire. The first French pirates in the Caribbean cooked their food that way on Tortuga when they moved there from Haiti around 1630.”

“You sure know your stuff,” said Steve.

“We are getting close to Port Royal,” said Hunter. “Before we arrive, what can you tell us about the political climate? What should we watch out for?”

“Port Royal is a wide open town full of impulsive, violent buccaneers,” Rita said firmly. “The real danger is from them, not from the government.”

“How much government is there?” Steve asked, looking at the town ahead. It seemed small, with its buildings crowded together against the blue sea.

“There is definitely some, but relatively little. Jamaica doesn’t have much in the way of British ships or troops. Sir Thomas Modyford is the governor. In the past, he granted commissions as privateers to certain pirates, who could then raid the Spanish as representatives of the British crown. For instance, a year ago, word arrived here in Jamaica that the Spanish in nearby Cuba were assembling a fleet for a strike against Jamaica. Modyford prevented that by sending Sir Henry Morgan and a fleet of buccaneers on a preemptive strike against Cuba.”

“What’s a privateer?” Steve asked, puzzled. “Some kind of buccaneer?”

“Sort of.” Rita laughed. “The line was always blurry. Basically, a government that was at war would commission pirates to fight for them against the enemy. In peace, pirates might attack any ship they wanted. The trouble is, the term turns on a legal technicality. They were basically the same people, doing the same things.”

“Pirates were the ones who ran up the skull and crossbones flag,” said Jane.

“Well, not in this time,” said Rita. “The Jolly Roger didn’t appear on the scene for another couple of decades.”

“Too bad we can’t invent it for them,” said Steve. Then he turned to Hunter quickly. “Just a joke, Hunter. Not serious, okay?”

“Okay,” said Hunter soberly. “I have data about jokes stored. Was that one funny?”

“No,” said Jane.

The sun had dropped behind the trees to the west by the time they reached the gate in the town wall. A couple of bored uniformed sentries straightened slightly, obviously spotting the team as strangers. Hunter stepped forward, towering over both of them.

“What’s your business?” One sentry spoke in a strong British accent. The other looked over Hunter’s tall, solid build and did not seem pleased with the prospect of a confrontation.

“We seek shelter for the night,” said Hunter. “We are looking for a friend.”

“Oh, yeah? I says you jumped ship offshore and swam here, you and your loose ladies.”

Steve stiffened, but Jane stifled a giggle.

“We only seek shelter for the night,” Hunter repeated, less certainly.

Rita leaned close to Hunter, whispering something Steve couldn’t hear. Hunter slipped a hand into the leather pouch hanging from his belt and drew out a couple of coins. He tossed one into the air to each of the sentries. As they looked up to catch them, Hunter pushed past them, then turned to make sure the rest of the team followed. They did; the sentries were busy examining the coins for their value.

Steve’s appraisal of Port Royal from a distance still held up once they were inside. The streets were narrow and crooked, the buildings low and crowded together. They were in a part of town that was relatively quiet.

“Where should we go?” Hunter asked.

“To the waterfront,” said Rita. “That’s where the nightlife will be in a port town.”

“And places to stay,” Steve added.

“That’s right,” said Rita. “Taverns and inns. And real buccaneers.”

“Jane,” said Hunter. “MC 2 could be returning to full size about now, given the range of my calculations. Where do you think he might go in a town like this? As a roboticist, do you think he would go to the waterfront?”

“It’s a reasonable guess,” said Jane slowly. “But robotics isn’t the issue, except to the extent that he was programmed to fit in with humans. When he returns to full size, he’ll need clothes from this period in order to blend into the crowd. Without them, he’ll have to sneak around in the dark for a while, so he’ll be out at night. And without any money, he’ll have to steal whatever clothes he can find.”

“That might be easier in a part of town where everyone’s asleep,” said Steve.

“People in the better parts of town probably protect themselves and their belongings better,” said Rita. “They’ll take in their wash before sundown and have guard dogs and servants.”

“I think he would be drawn to an area that has some activity after dark,” said Jane. “He will need to learn what he can about the language and culture as fast as possible, so even overhearing conversations

from hiding will be important to him.”

“That’s also where we can buy some knives to carry with us,” said Rita.

“We will try the waterfront, “Hunter decided.

4

AS HUNTER LED the team down the winding streets toward the waterfront, he turned up the sensitivity in both his hearing and his vision. Every warning Rita had given about the violence of buccaneer culture had sharpened his concerns under the First Law. He would have to evaluate each sight and sound for potential threats.

The strong scent of the sea came to him on the wind well before they reached the waterfront. All along the docks, torches were burning over the doors of taverns and over open-air booths, where wares of all kinds were for sale, including earthenware, knitting, and fabrics. The smell of oily smoke was thick. He looked through the crowd of people for someone the size of MC 2.

“There,” said Rita, pointing.

“MC 2?” Hunter looked around.

“No, Hunter.” Rita laughed. “Just a booth where we can all arm ourselves.”

“Hey, look at that stuff,” said Steve enthusiastically, hurrying over to the booth. “All kinds of knives, pistols, swords … wow.”

“Try them out,” said the proprietor, in a French accent. He was a bony, gray-haired man wearing only knee breeches and a large, gold earring. His bare feet were calloused and black with the rich island dirt. “Heft them, feel their weight. I am Henri the Ironmonger.”

Steve picked up a flintlock pistol and turned it to one side, so that it pointed away from everyone. He looked at it carefully, then cocked it and pulled the trigger with a satisfying click. Then he set it down on the rough wooden table and picked up something else.

“This is good,” said Rita, picking up a long, curved dagger. “I can wear it in a sash, where people can see it. And it’s not too heavy for me to use.”

“I see,” said Jane. More reluctantly, she picked up a straight dagger of about the same length. “I don’t know if I could use this on anyone.”

“You probably won’t have to,” said Rita.

“What? Then what’s the point?”

“The idea is to make some of these guys think twice about bothering us in the first place. With Hunter to protect us and these knives out where everyone can see them, we just might be left alone.”

“I see.”

Rita stepped back and made a couple of stabbing motions in the air, then swung the dagger around experimentally.

“But why are you so particular, if you don’t think you’ll have to use it —” Jane started.

“Maybe we won’t have to use them,” Rita reminded her, with a grin. “We want something we can handle, just in case.”

“These are all so cruel,” said Hunter, examining the weapons on the table. He felt a sense of alarm, reminded of how quickly the First Law could come into effect with so many weapons around. “They are intended only for committing grave harm to other humans.”

“Where have you been, my gigantic friend?” Henri the Ironmonger laughed. “Taking vows in a monastery?”

“No,” said Hunter, cautiously.

“Try a cutlass,” said Rita quickly. She raised up the handle of one of the long, curved swords. “You can handle a heavy weapon.” Then she lowered her voice. “Remember, you’re a buccaneer. Think of it as playacting.”

“And you have permission to lie as part of the playacting,” said Jane softly. “Under the Second Law, I instruct you to maintain your role as a buccaneer.”

“Acknowledged,” said Hunter, accepting the cutlass. Imitating Rita’s earlier moves, he stepped away from the others and swung it around in the air a couple of times. At the same time, he accessed some of his data on buccaneers, including some children’s books he had recorded. “Avast, matey.”

The three humans on his team laughed.

“Aye, a big fellow like yourself can use a big sword like that one,” said Henri. “No sense in a strong, strapping man wasting his time with some little frog sticker. Lost your old sword, I suppose?”

“Yes,” Rita said quickly. “Overboard. It was, uh, a difficult moment.”

“I’ve had my share of those,” said Henri, nodding sympathetically. “I may not look it now, but I have.” He grinned, showing only a couple of teeth.

“Steve,” said Hunter. He was uncomfortable with this playacting. “Have you picked something?”

“I’m not sure,” said Steve. “A pistol would be good, but clumsy to load. And these flintlocks only shoot once before you reload.”

“Of course,” said Henri, puzzled. “Have you ever heard of any devil gun that could shoot more than once at a time? But it reaches out to your enemy before you enter the range of his blade.”

“The chance of accident is greater, too,” said Hunter. “Please choose an edged weapon.”

“Okay.” Steve shrugged and picked up a rapier. “I’ll try this one. How about scabbards and belts?”

“Sorry, my friends,” said Henri. “I have collected these fine weapons wherever I could, but mostly they came from unfortunates who fell in courageous battle. Belts and scabbards were not close to hand.”

“Whatever.” Steve shrugged.

“Bargain with him,” Rita whispered to Hunter. Hunter tried, but without knowing the going price of swords and daggers, he was at a disadvantage. Rita helped, arguing vigorously and three times walking away from the booth in feigned disgust. Finally, at her instruction, Hunter bought all the weapons for less than a handful of coins.

The team walked away, satisfied.

“An interesting cultural phenomenon,” said Hunter. “My stored information tells me that parts of the world still routinely bargain even in our time. I had never experienced it before. It is more psychology than economics.”

“That’s right,” said Rita. “But now we all need belts or sashes to wear, to hold up our weapons.”

“Rita,” said Jane, pointing. “Look at the that booth, over there. Those are sashes and scarves.”

“Perfect,” said Rita. “Come on, Hunter.”

This time, Hunter bargained alone and successfully purchased four long cotton sashes, two of faded blue and two that were more or less black. Each member of the team took one. At Rita’s direction, they tied them around their waists and stuck their weapons through them at the hip.

“Good enough,” said Rita, looking around with an excited expression. “This is really special for me. I can hardly believe I’m doing this. I’ve spent my entire adult life studying this time and this region. And now I’m actually here.”

“We are glad to have you with us,” said Hunter. He looked at Rita and Jane. “What do you suggest now? How can we maximize our chances of finding MC 2?”

“Well …” Jane hesitated. “We’re back to what I Said earlier, I guess, about looking around the waterfront. After all, he may not have returned to full size yet, in which case we won’t find him now anyway.”

“I agree that we should circulate,” said Rita. “Maybe we can meet a few people and tell them to watch for someone of his description.”

“Ah, yes,” said Hunter. “In other words, create a network of people who can help us search.”

“That’s right,” said Rita. “But before we ask them for any help, we have to establish a rapport with them. Buccaneers survive partly by being suspicious of strangers. Offering a reward wouldn’t hurt.”

“We do not want to reveal unnecessarily that we are carrying much money,” said Hunter.

“Let’s talk to some people,” said Jane. “Then we can decide how to handle them.”

“I see taverns all up and down the docks,” said Steve. “How are we going to pick one to start?”

Rita thought for a moment, gazing up the street. “We have to be careful. Buccaneer women aren’t well thought of. Let’s start in one of the open-air taverns. The clientele is more varied and we can get away more easily if we have to leave.”

“I hope I don’t regret this,” said Jane.

“Hunter, you should go first. Lead us into that sidewalk tavern there.” Rita pointed. “Some other women are there, and they seem safe so far.”

“All right.”

Hunter walked in front, with the other three close behind. He was aware that many of the rough, dirty men looked up at him in some surprise. Hunter was, of course, unusually tall and powerful, and he knew he had attracted some attention on their earlier walk through town. He decided that the buccaneers routinely appraised the fighting ability of those around them, either as potential opponents in a brawl or as comrades on board ship.

In front of Hunter, a short, brawny buccaneer stomped forward to a bar made of three rough planks resting on a couple of barrels. Behind the makeshift bar, an overweight man in a shirt with full, baggy sleeves was dipping tankards into an open keg and setting them on the bar. Hunter watched carefully.

“Gimme four o’ those,” said the man in front, tossing down a small coin.

Hunter quickly sorted through his pouch for a coin of the same size. When his turn came, he tossed it down on the bar. “I would like four drinks, also, please.”

The barkeep glanced at him in surprise, perhaps at his phrasing, but said nothing. The man set four full tankards on the bar and scooped the coin into a pouch of his own. Hunter turned and handed out the tankards to his companions.

“Let’s move out of the way of the bar,” said Rita. She edged through the crowd and the others followed her.

Hunter took a sip of his drink. He found the flavor too strong to be pleasant. As his system quickly analyzed its contents, he realized that the substance was called rum. In small amounts, it was not necessarily dangerous to humans, but its effects could be if the amount accumulated.

Steve took a mouthful and grimaced before swallowing. “Wow. No wonder these guys are mean.”

“Please be careful with the amount of alcohol you consume,” said Hunter. “Remember, I am concerned with your health, under the First Law.”

Rita and Jane both took more cautious tastes. “Our modern rum is more refined,” Rita said quietly. “This is rather harsh, isn’t it?”

Jane made a face. “I think I’ll just hold mine, to look the part.”

“Aye, drink up,” said a stranger, hoisting his tankard to Hunter. “It flows freely in Port Royal tonight, but you never know when the river will stop.” He was tall man, only a little shorter than Hunter, with bushy red hair.

“Good evening,” said Hunter. “My name is Hunter. These are Steve, Rita, and Jane.”

“Greetings to all. I am Leitch. Haven’t seen you before, Hunter; you’re too big to forget. Sail in recently, did you?”

“We arrived today,” said Hunter. He glanced at Rita for help, concerned that he might say something that would reveal their status as ignorant strangers.

“I don’t recall any ships putting in today,” said another man, staggering against Leitch. He was a shorter, stocky man with a French accent.

Leitch elbowed him hard and shoved him upright again. “You sleep all day again, Cresson?”

Rita took Hunter’s arm casually and leaned against him. He realized that this was part of her playacting, but he was not sure what to do in response. Deciding to be cautious, he did nothing.

“Hunter,” said Rita. “I’ll bet these guys know a lot of people. Maybe we should tell them what your friend looks like. I know you want to be careful, but we could ask them.”

“How’s that?” Leitch looked at her over his tankard as he took another swig.

“I am searching for a friend,” said Hunter. “A small, slender man, probably in clothes that, uh —” He stopped uncertainly, looking at Rita.

“He probably scavenged them someplace,” said Rita. “He never has any money.”

“Sounds like most of my friends,” said Leitch, grinning at Cresson.

“He learns fast,” said Steve. “But he hasn’t spent much time in this part of the world.”

“Ah! Doesn’t know the ropes, eh?” Cresson nodded. “Can’t say I’ve seen anyone of that sort around lately, but if he’s on the docks, we’ll see him sooner or later.”

Leitch eyed Steve carefully. “Spanish, are you? With a touch of Moorish blood? Your English is very good.”

“Thank you,” said Steve, with a shrug.

Hunter saw that Jane was quietly shifting behind Steve. Cresson was studying her with a great deal of interest. Steve glanced at Hunter.

Suddenly angry shouts could be heard off to ‘one side, toward the docks. Hunter turned and was able to see over the heads of most of the crowd. Two buccaneers had squared off, one holding a curved dagger much like Rita’s and the other grasping a belaying pin.

Hunter’s first reflex was to shove forward through the crowd and stop them. He resisted it, with effort, reminding himself that the larger First Law issue in the future took precedence over the welfare of these two buccaneers. Still, he stared at them with a kind of horror.

“Steady, Hunter,” said Jane softly. “If you’re having trouble, review your internal data about chaos theory. Reinforce your understanding that the First Law can be served by letting these guys fight.”

“Thank you,” Hunter said quietly. He followed her instructions instantaneously. It helped him keep his priorities clear, though his positronic brain still wanted to break up the fight.

“Haw! Look at that!” Leitch punched Cresson on the arm. “I’ll wager the next round of drinks that Carlos takes him.”

“With a belaying pin? You’re on,” said Cresson. “Come on, let’s move closer.”

They both pushed forward to see better.

Hunter realized that nearly everyone in the crowd was laughing, yelling encouragement or insults, and wagering on the outcome of the fight. None of them seemed to take it seriously, though both combatants held potentially lethal weapons. Their casual attitude toward such violence matched his historical data, but it made him very uncomfortable.

“All right, Hunter?” Jane asked, taking his arm. “You aren’t freezing up, are you?”

“No, Jane,” said Hunter. “I have to remain active in order to protect the three of you if the violence spreads. I think we should leave, though, and look elsewhere for MC 2.”

“Good idea.”

“Okay,” Steve said reluctantly. He obviously wanted to watch the fight.

“Let’s go out this way,” said Rita. She led the team away from the crowd to one side, well away from the developing fight. Other eager observers moved up to take their places.

The team followed Rita up the waterfront. Hunter felt a slight sense of relief, but he realized that these First Law situations were going to continue as long as he was in the past among humans. In this respect, going back to the dinosaur age had been easier, since the only humans there had all come from the future.

Jane stopped suddenly, grabbing Hunter’s arm. “There’s another fight.”

Hunter looked. Ahead, two large men were shouting at each other in the light from a tavern doorway. A short, slender man was trying to interfere.

5

ALL THREE FIGURES in the tavern doorway were silhouettes against the torchlight from inside. None of them could be seen clearly. So far, they were merely scuffling with each other, the two larger men yelling insults.

“Is the short one MC 2?” Rita asked anxiously.

“He’s roughly the right size,” Steve said in a low voice, uncertainly. “Hunter, what do you think? What do you want us to do?”

Striding forward quickly, Hunter turned up all his senses. The figure trying to break up the fight was not speaking, but just pushing between the two men, so Hunter couldn’t judge his voice. He was calling MC 2 on his internal radio link, but MC 1 had shut down his receiver to avoid receiving messages under the Second Law; MC 2 would probably do the same.

“We have to stop him and see,” Hunter decided. “I will go first. If you can help, act on your own, but don’t take any risks unnecessarily.” He jogged forward.

Suddenly the two shouting men lunged at each other, grappling for a moment and trying to gain some advantage. The smaller figure had gotten caught between them. Hunter broke into a run.

“Stop!” Hunter shouted in a deep, authoritative voice as he drew closer. “Stop!” None of the three struggling fighters seemed to hear him.

Hunter reached the three and grabbed an arm of the two larger men in each hand. Neither was as tall as Hunter. He pulled them apart and shoved, pushing them off balance. In the same moment, the smaller man ducked under one of Hunter’s outstretched arms and backed away.

“Hey! What’s it to you?” One of the big men glared at Hunter in surprise.

The other, without a word, swung a fist toward Hunter. With his fast reflexes, he dodged it with an easy, slight movement, then pushed both men away from him again. He was just about to speak, hoping to discourage them from further resistance, when he heard angry voices and the sound of footsteps running toward him from the tavern doorway.

Hunter turned and found a crowd of drunken pirates running toward him, yelling. He knew he could not stop them without a very hard collision, which might hurt them. So when the first four men threw themselves at him, he allowed himself to be tackled and taken down.

A moment later, however, Hunter gathered his legs under him and, with a wad of buccaneers’ clothes in each hand, stood up. The others simply fell off him; the two flailed wildly in his grip. Hunter dropped them, judging that a fall to the street would not do them any harm. Then he stepped back, warily looking around to defend himself again.

The buccaneers were muttering among themselves, but none wanted to go after Hunter alone.

“Come on, Hunter,” Steve called from behind him. “This guy isn’t MC 2, after all.”

Hunter stepped backward toward Steve’s voice, eager to avoid any further chance of harming these violent humans. Likewise, they remained where they were on the ground, eyeing him in drunken surprise. None of them spoke as Hunter joined the rest of the team.

“Let’s get out of here,” said Rita. “Hunter, you bring up the rear and see if they follow us.”

The slender buccaneer whom Hunter had rescued stayed with them as they jogged down the waterfront quickly, slipping through the crowd. Hunter focused both his vision and his hearing on the men they had left behind, but he detected no sign of pursuit. Instead, muttering to each other angrily, they just returned to the tavern.

“We have no pursuit,” Hunter announced. “We can walk if you prefer.”

“You sure?” Steve asked, but he slowed to a walk, as did the others. He looked back over his shoulder. “I guess pirates could be pretty sneaky.”

“They went back inside,” Hunter assured him. “Their motivation for another fight was lower than their motivation for more drinking.”

“That’s no surprise to me, mate,” said their new companion, in a strong British accent. “We merely had a difference of opinion about whose turn it was to pay for the round of drinks. Nothing to get your throat slashed for, hey?”

Hunter studied him. He was a young man with sun-bleached blond hair and a quick smile. Now that he was out of the shadows and walking normally, Hunter could see that he was almost as slender as MC 2, but really much taller. His clothes were similar to those of Hunter and Steve, knee breeches and a loose white shirt with flowing sleeves for freedom of movement. A belt and scabbard with a rapier in it completed the man’s attire.

“I am Roland Burke.” He turned to Rita. “And, sweet lady, you are? …”

“Rita,” she said, startled by the way he had addressed her.

Hunter introduced the rest of them.

“I’m pleased to meet you all,” said Roland. “Hunter, I thank you for your assistance. My friends can be short-tempered when the talk turns to hard coin.”

“Your opponents in the fight were your friends?” Hunter was surprised.

“Ah, well, does any buccaneer have true friends?” Roland shrugged.

Steve, saying nothing, was watching Roland with curiosity. Rita was staring at him in open fascination. Roland seemed oblivious to their interest, waving to an acquaintance in the crowd.

Hunter turned to Jane. “Is this important?” Hunter asked quietly.

“What do you mean?”

“This puzzles me,” said Hunter. “Friends brawling with each other does not fit my data on human behavior. As a roboticist, please inform me.”

“Yes, this is important.” Jane smiled indulgently. “And it’s reliable, at least in some circles and cultural milieus. Friendship is a complex idea. Store your new data. I suspect that the buccaneers are going to show you a lot of new human behavior before we go home.”

Hunter nodded.

“Well, Hunter?” Steve looked up at him. “Aren’t we going to keep looking for you-know-who?”

“Yes, of course. Let us walk.”

Rita could hardly believe that she was actually talking to a real buccaneer. She had always loved reading about the buccaneers when she had been young. As an adult, she had chosen to make a career out of studying the history of the seventeenth century Caribbean. Until Roland had spoken to her, however, everyone had still seemed unreal. Talking to him had made her realize that she was truly in the past

As Hunter led the way down the waterfront, with Steve and Jane behind him, Rita and Roland came last.

“You have some pretty rough friends,” she said, jerking her thumb back toward the tavern.

“Eh? Oh, them!” Roland laughed. “No worse than I am, I fear.”

“Oh?” Rita laughed too, amused at his tone. “Have you been in Port Royal long?”

“Oh, coming and going, I’ve been here a few years,” he said, waving his hand vaguely.

“You mean sailing in and out of port?”

“Aye.”

“Searching for Spanish ships?”

“Privateering, Rita.” He caught her eye and grinned. That expression was almost a dare.

“Always?” She raised an eyebrow skeptically.

“Well … sometimes the governor’s commission can run out, you know, or a treaty will be signed across the sea in London.” He shrugged helplessly, still smiling. “What can a poor buccaneer do about that?”

“Not a thing, I’m sure.” Rita laughed, telling herself that getting to know a real buccaneer would advance her professional knowledge.

“Aye, sweet lady, not a single thing.” He winked and then threw his head back and laughed.

“You ever kill anyone?” She nodded toward the rapier swinging in its scabbard at his side.

“I’m still walking and talking, and not every man I’ve met on the high seas can say that.”

That might have sounded grim, except for his lighthearted tone. Rita didn’t think he was bragging as much as he was laughing at himself. She wondered if he was even better with the sword than he had admitted.

Roland jerked his thumb, imitating her gesture, toward the big knife she had stuck into her sash. “You ever kill anyone?” He gave her a challenging smirk.

“Uh — well, I’m still walking and talking, too.” She smiled back.

“So you are, Rita. So you are.”

They walked in silence for a while. Every so often, Roland greeted someone he knew. Hunter was easy to follow, since he towered head and shoulders above everyone else.

While Hunter, Steve, and Jane moved ahead through the crowd, looking for MC 2, Rita considered just how lucky she was to be here.

No historians had ever before had the chance to visit the era of human history they loved most. Only Chad Mora, the paleontologist who had accompanied Hunter’s team to the age of dinosaurs, had been able to experience the time he had studied. She wondered if Roland had sailed on any ships she would remember studying.

“Roland —” She stopped suddenly, not sure what she wanted to ask. Questioning a buccaneer about his adventures might be extremely unwise, and even dangerous, no matter how charming he appeared.

“Yes, Rita?”

“Uh — well, I’m curious about your adventures. But I don’t want to pry into your affairs.”

“Ah! Curious about the buccaneering life, eh?” Roland grinned again. “Well, no need to be shy, sweet lady; you wouldn’t be the first.”

“Well … I didn’t think so.” She laughed, embarrassed. Since she couldn’t tell him why she was curious about him, she wasn’t sure what to say.

“So tell me, Rita,” Roland said lightly, with a wary glance at Hunter in front of them. “Would you like to get better acquainted, then? And learn the buccaneer life? See Port Royal as I know it?”

Rita knew in an instant that this was what she really wanted. She also realized that Hunter would object since he was so concerned about the First Law and the danger that she might change human history if she wasn’t careful. However, she simply did not share his belief that rather ordinary actions in this era of Jamaican history would ultimately matter. She reminded herself again that Port Royal would be drowned in an earthquake in just over twenty years.

She gave Roland a quick nod.

Roland waited until Steve said something to Hunter, distracting him. Rita knew, of course, that, as a robot, Hunter had multiple sensors and the ability to monitor them all with his full attention if he wished. However, he had no reason to keep track of Rita at every moment and his attention was on Steve’s comment.

Suddenly Roland grabbed her wrist and slipped sideways into the crowd, pulling her after him. She saw that he was careful not to move too fast, or jostle anyone unnecessarily; that might attract Hunter’s attention. Instead, he moved carefully and patiently, allowing them to blend into the crowd without disruption as they worked their way toward a small side street.

Rita looked back over her shoulder at Hunter, who was by then some distance away. He was still walking in the same direction as before, unaware that she was no longer right behind him. Then Roland pulled harder on her wrist and she hurried after him around a corner and out of Hunter’s sight.

“Run, Rita,” Roland called cheerily. He began to jog, still pulling her after him.

With her free hand, she reached up to switch off the communicator pinned to her collar. If Hunter called her, it would make some sort of sound, and might attract Roland’s attention. She didn’t want to wind up drowned, hanged, or burned as a witch if a buccaneer heard voices apparently coming from nowhere.

“Hunter,” said Steve. “This is fun, but maybe we should find a place to spend the night. Like you said, if MC 2 is still microscopic, we can’t possibly find him yet.”

“A good point,” said Hunter, looking toward the wooden buildings lining the waterfront. “I see a number of signs for inns. Shall we try that one?” He pointed.

Steve laughed, and caught Jane’s eye. Shaking her head, she took Hunter’s arm.

“Is this funny?” Hunter asked.

“We don’t want to stay in a waterfront inn,” said Jane.

“Too rough, Hunter,” said Steve.

“The accommodations must still be better than those in our previous trip.”

“It’s not the building, Hunter,” said Steve, glancing at Jane again with a suppressed smile. “It’s the company. We need to find a place with a nicer clientele.”

“I understand now,” said Hunter. “So we should leave the waterfront and look around.” He stopped and turned. “Rita, which way should we go?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, also turning. “There must be a better part of town ….” He trailed off, looking around.

“Rita?” Jane called.

“Just lost in the crowd for a minute, I guess,” said Steve, peering at the faces of all the people who were walking past them. “Rita!”

“No,” said Hunter. He was holding his head high, standing motionless. “I do not see her anywhere nearby. I have raised the sensitivity of my hearing, as well, and I do not hear her voice or Roland’s, either.”

“You think he snatched her?” Steve asked, still looking around in the crowd. “I should have been watching them, but this never occurred to me.”

“It was my failure, not yours,” said Hunter. “I failed my First Law obligation again. However, I doubt that she went under duress. I would have noticed even the slightest scuffling or call for help originating right behind us.”

“He was a charmer, all right,” said Jane. “And Rita seemed to like him right away.”

“We will have to pick up their trail,” said Hunter. “Come on.” He started back the way they had come, his eyes scanning the crowd.

“No point yelling for them,” said Steve. “If she sneaked away deliberately, they’ll both run harder if they know we’re looking for them.”

“Maybe they aren’t really running,” said Jane. “Maybe Roland just stopped to introduce her to a friend. Or maybe she saw a booth where she wanted to look at something.”

“Maybe,” Steve said reluctantly. “But she’s a historian, not a tourist.”

“That’s true,” said Jane.

Hunter said nothing.

6

STEVE HAD NEVER before seen Hunter act with the precise mix of deliberation, sternness, and yet uncertainty that he exhibited after Rita’s disappearance. Worried, Steve leaned close to Jane. “Is Hunter okay? He’s talking in a monotone and walking like it’s a military march. Is he having another First Law attack or something?”

“He’s okay so far.” said Jane. “But his First Law interpretation places Rita’s welfare above that of the local population. He’s vary anxious to find her.”

“Yeah.” Steve straightened again. “Not to mention his fear that she’ll change history.”

“Excuse me,” Hunter said politely, to a couple of young buccaneers walking nearby. “Do you know a Roland Burke? I am searching for him.”

“So?” They both laughed and moved on without breaking stride.

“Does anyone here know a Roland Burke? Has anyone seen him just now?” Hunter shouted, and his booming voice attracted considerable attention.

No one responded, however. They looked at him warily and just kept walking.

“Let’s go over there,” said Steve suddenly. He pointed to a small knot of people. In the center, a skinny, gray-bearded man dressed only in ragged knee breeches was juggling four belaying pins. Steve led the way this time.

When the juggler had completed his performance, a few onlookers tossed coins into a scarf folded carefully at his feet. Steve stepped up quickly. Hunter and Jane stayed where they were.

“Hold it, friends,” Steve called. “We’re looking for a friend named Roland Burke, or any other friend of his. Does anyone here know him?”

Most of the audience just walked away, but a couple of young men remained.

“I’d say every third man on the waterfront knows Roland,” said one of them, a tall, burly man with curly hair. “What’s it to you?”

“We lost him in the crowd tonight,” said Steve. “Just a moment ago. Where can we find him?”

“If he’s a friend of yours, why don’t you know that already?” The buccaneer who had spoken stepped in front of Steve and glared down at him.

“Easy, friend,” said Hunter.

“Hunter —” Steve felt the big robot gently take his arm and pull him back. As Steve regained his balance, Hunter moved in front of him.

“I ain’t afraid of you, either,” said the curly-haired buccaneer. He was nearly a head shorter than Hunter, but hadn’t given any ground.

Steve knew Hunter didn’t want to hurt anyone, so he glanced around for a distraction. A small circle of onlookers had formed around them. He spied the juggler watching them, still holding his belaying pins.

“How much do you want for one of those?” Steve asked, nodding at the belaying pins.

The juggler grinned, showing gaps in his teeth. “Nothin’. I stole ’em off my last ship.” He tossed one to Steve, obviously expecting him to use it on someone as a club.

Steve caught it. The belaying pin was made of hardwood and was both heavy and sturdy. It had a thick, oblong head and a narrower pin, long enough to hold as a handle. On shipboard, a sailor would slip the looped end of a rope through the pin, then push the pin into one of the many holes drilled in the ship for that purpose. That end of the rope would be held firm. The shape made the pin perfect as a club too.

The curly-haired buccaneer watched Steve with caution but no fear. “You boys want a fight, you got it.”

“Not me,” said Steve. “I just want to demonstrate something on my friend here.”

“And what would that be?”

“Hold still, Hunter,” said Steve.

“Okay,” said Hunter.

Steve held the belaying pin as a club and reared back. He swung it up and then down on Hunter’s head as hard as he could. The force of the blow shattered the hardwood and tore the remains from Steve’s hand. He gripped his sore hand with the other one, wincing.

Hunter smiled politely at the buccaneers, who stared at him in amazement.

“My friend has a hard head,” said Steve.

Still not taking his eyes off Hunter, the curly-haired buccaneer reached down and picked up a chunk of the broken wood. “That’s the real thing, ain’t it?”

“Quite heavy,” Hunter assured him.

“Would you like to take a turn?” Steve asked him amiably. “Our juggler friend has several more.”

The curly-haired pirate turned away and pushed through the crowd, followed by his companion.

“Thank you,” said Hunter. “You saved me the danger of a First Law violation.”

“Glad to help,” said Steve, grinning.

“I never saw nothin’ like it,” said the juggler. “You must have the hardest head on the seven seas.”

“You know Roland Burke?” Jane asked.

“Aye, I’ve met him. But he ain’t passed me tonight.” The juggler shrugged apologetically.

“Do you know where he lives?” Steve asked.

“Nay. I don’t know him that well. Just to have a mug 0’ grog now and then.”

“Thank you,” Hunter said politely.

“Any time,” said the juggler, still eyeing Hunter’s head for evidence of a wound.

Steve grinned at Jane as they walked on. Hunter continued to lead the way, using his enhanced vision and hearing in the hope of detecting signs of Roland or Rita that his human companions could not possibly notice. They followed him patiently, looking at the sights and pointing out different items of interest to each other from time to time.

They looked long into the night. Slowly, the crowd on the waterfront thinned out. The only sounds that remained were those of the breaking surf and the drunken singing from some of the taverns. Hunter ventured down some of the side streets, always alert for danger. Jane and Steve stayed close to him, but no one approached them.

“Hunter,” Jane said finally. “I know you can search all night, but I’m not sure it’s worth the effort. We need some rest. Rita is probably just exploring with Roland.”

Hunter looked at them both. “I know you need to sleep. I shall also stay with you two, to make sure you are safe. Where should we go?”

“The town has quieted down now,” said Steve. “With you to protect us, I think we can get a room in an inn just off the waterfront without a problem.”

They had to walk for a while longer, but finally Steve and Jane agreed that a place called the Dover Arms catered to a clientele of higher social class than the waterfront inns. Hunter paid for a sizable room. Inside, he hooked the wooden shutter closed over the window and barred the door. Then, as the two humans went to sleep in their beds, he sat down on a chair in the middle of the room, alert for any sounds of potential danger in this unfamiliar environment.

At that moment, Rita sat with Roland at a table in a small tavern. No other customers remained. Her escort had given her a quick tour of the crowded waterfront and then tried his best to push several kinds of rum on her, without much success. The tavernkeeper was wiping off the other tables with a dirty cloth. Roland studied Rita’s face.

“I still say, sweet lady, something is different about you that I don’t understand,” said Roland.

“Can you name what’s so different?” She smiled at him, still ignoring the tankard of rum he had bought for her some time earlier.

“No,” Roland said, shaking his head slowly. “I cannot. Something I just can’t name.”

Rita hoped she hadn’t made a mistake. She was tired, but still didn’t want to rejoin Hunter yet. This was her chance to find out what living in Port Royal was really like. She idly fingered the handle of the knife in her sash.

“I want a room to myself,” she said, looking him in the eye. ‘With a bar on the door. I can pay for it if you will find it for me.”

Roland smiled wryly. “I can do that for you. Now tell me why I should.”

Rita could feel the sweat on her palms. If she couldn’t keep Roland in a friendly mood, she could be in real trouble. Of course, she could still try to radio Hunter, but he might be some distance away.

“You will help me,” she said carefully, “because you still want to figure out somehow why I’m different.”

“Aye.” Roland grinned suddenly. “Aye, you have me there. But you’ll be my guest for breakfast in return.”

“Fair enough.” Rita gave him a confident smile, but inwardly she was very relieved. Maybe she really could handle this buccaneer.

Roland accepted a couple of coins from her and spoke to the tavernkeeper. They both escorted her upstairs, where she found a room a little larger than a closet and a plain, wooden bed with a thin mattress. The tavernkeeper lit a short stub of candle that stood on the window sill.

“It will do?” Roland asked her.

She glanced behind the door and saw the bracket and wooden bar that would lock it securely. “Yes, it will do. Thank you.”

After they had left, she closed the door and slid the bar into place. Then she let out a long breath and smiled to herself. She was all right so far. Weary after the excitement and tension of dealing with Roland, she lay down on the bed and quickly fell asleep.

Early the next morning, Jane sat at an outdoor booth with Hunter and Steve. The morning was still cool, with the tropical ocean breeze blowing gently through the streets. She and Steve were eating some sort of meat pastry that Hunter had bought. Hunter, of course, was recharging his energy storage by letting the bright sun beat down on the solar power collectors hidden in the surface of his body.

“Well.” Steve swallowed a big mouthful of his breakfast and turned to Hunter. “So, how do you want us to look for Rita today, Hunter?”

“I am undecided,” said Hunter.

Jane waited, expecting him to go on. He didn’t.

Jane and Steve glanced at each other in surprise. Hunter was rarely undecided about something so simple and when he was, he usually wanted to discuss options. Worried, she lowered her pastry. Hunter was facing away from them, presumably searching for some sight or sound of Rita or Roland.

“Hunter,” Jane said quietly. “Tell me under the Second Law. You’re having a First Law problem over Rita’s disappearance, aren’t you?”

“Affirmative,” said Hunter.

“I instruct you to discuss it with us. Why is this worse now than it was late last night?”

“You know my inattention has allowed Rita to leave the safety of my protection. By now, she may have come to harm. As you slept, I reviewed my data about Port Royal and the buccaneer society. The chance of her having come to harm last night is very high.”

“I understand,” said Jane. “Now listen carefully to your roboticist.”

“Yes?”

“You are still dealing only in probabilities. Rita may still be perfectly well, but in potential danger. She, and we, need you at peak efficiency.”

“I am clearly not at peak efficiency. If I had been last night, I would have not have lost her.”

“I dispute that judgment. None of us had any reason to think she would slip away from us of her own accord.”

“You humans are not obligated by the First Law to look after her.”

“Your misjudgment of her behavior is not in and of itself a First Law Failure.”

“It led to one. After all, the First Law says in part that a robot may not allow a human to come to harm through inaction. It makes no exception for errors of judgment.”

“Nor does it blame you for what may be happening. Until and unless you know that Rita has been harmed, you don’t know that you have broken the First Law.”

“Come on, Hunter,” Steve interrupted with forced cheer. “Enough talk. Let’s find Rita.”

“All right.” Hunter still sounded uncertain, but he led them away from the booth. “We shall walk around some more. I have continued sending out a radio signal to her communicator, but she has not responded.”

Jane caught Steve’s eye and smiled. Sometimes his pragmatic suggestions were worth more to Hunter than all of her theoretical arguments combined. Steve fell into step with her behind Hunter.

They found the waterfront changed. Instead of the wild, carousing buccaneers, Jane saw the ordinary people who kept the town functioning. Small fishing boats swayed on the waves out at sea; shopkeepers were just hanging out their wares. In fact, a few of the earliest fishing boats were already returning to the docks with their morning catch.

“Great climate, huh?” Steve spread his arms expansively. “Light breeze, blue water, tropical flowers everywhere. I never see anything like this in the Mojave Desert.”

“It’s beautiful here,” Jane agreed. She was still watching Hunter, but he now seemed to be acting almost normally as he looked at and listened to their surroundings.

“Pretty carefree life-style around here, isn’t it?” Steve nodded toward a woman chasing a couple of barefoot toddlers around a fruit stand.

“Yes, it is,” Jane said, amused at the scene.

“Hey, not you, too. Come on. You can still enjoy the climate while we look for Rita.”

“I have to admit, I’m worried about her. This is a pirate town, after all.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, me, too. But do you have any ideas about how to find her?”

“No, not really.”

They continued to search for another hour without success. Even when the buccaneers who had been carousing the night before stumbled out to start their day, they were hung over. None of them were especially belligerent, but Hunter couldn’t find anyone who could tell them where to find Roland.

“I have a suggestion,” Steve said finally. “If it won’t upset your First Law.”

“Yes?” Hunter stopped to look at him.

“We really should split up and look through more of the town than the waterfront.”

“I cannot risk —”

“Separating from either of us, I know,” said Steve quickly. “Look, we aren’t going to run out on you. And now we each have communicators. Jane and I will go together; if we run into any kind of problem, at least one of us can call you.”

“I’ll stay with Hunter,” said Jane. “In case we have to discuss the First Law more.”

“Then I’ll be fine alone,” said Steve.

“Very well,” said Hunter. “You will be careful?”

“Promise,” said Steve.

7

AS STEVE JAUNTILY marched away down a side street, Jane watched Hunter carefully.

“Hunter,” said Jane. “This question of your efficiency under the First Law came up during our last mission. I know that a clear, serious failure to obey the First Law can force a positronic robot to shut down. How close are you to making that decision?”

“I am not approaching that point yet.”

“For the same reason you functioned through this doubt last time, as well?”

“Yes. My responsibility to take care of you and Steve forces me to continue functioning longer than I might in our own time, where you could better take care of yourselves or find another robot to help you.”

“Good,” said Jane. “You’re right; we need you and so does the larger mission to find MC 2. Please focus on the fact that we have no one to take your place.”

“Agreed,” said Hunter.

Rita woke up with a surge of excitement at the first hints of dawn shining through the cracks around the closed wooden window. She dressed quickly and unbarred the door. Pausing to take a deep breath, she walked downstairs.

“Good morning, sweet lady,” said Roland, waving to her. He got up from the chair in which he had apparently been waiting for her. “I shall take you to breakfast.”

“I, urn, need a water pump to wash up and the private facilities.”

“Outside in the back,” said the tavernkeeper, who was wiping the bar.

When Rita had freshened up the best she could, she joined Roland again.

“I shall take you to the best stall in town,” said Roland, turning to the left. “It’s away from the waterfront about a block. On the docks, these drunken louts don’t always care what they eat.”

Rita laughed and walked with him. She liked looking around at the sights, enjoying the feeling that she was a part of the seventeenth century. Roland couldn’t tell just how much of a stranger she was to Port Royal; that was the best compliment to her expertise she had ever received.

Hunter could certainly find MC 2 without her; she had given them a lot of basic information about Port Royal’s history and culture already. She told herself that Hunter and his party didn’t really need her. Right now, she wouldn’t even mind if they went home without her.

After all, Hunter was the one who believed that almost any small action could change all of human history in the future. That sounded crazy to her, at least in this case. Suppose she spent the rest of her life in Jamaica. All she would have to do was be careful and stay out of Port Royal in 1692, when the big earthquake would drown the town forever. That would happen in twenty-four years. Certainly she wouldn’t ever do anything that would change history.

“Here we are,” Roland said cheerily, gesturing at a crowded open-air stall. “Buns, sweet cakes, meat pastries, dried fish, fresh fish, and fresh fruit. What is your pleasure?”

“Uh … I’m not sure. You know this place. Get me the best they have.”

“As you wish, of course. Are you a little hungry, or very hungry, or somewhere in between?”

“I’m very hungry.”

“Ah! I’m glad.”

Roland ordered two of nearly everything and carried it all on a couple of wide, green leaves to a plank table and bench. As Rita sat down, he went back to the proprietor and returned with two mugs of some kind of herbal tea. She bit carefully into one of the buns and found it quite good.

Rita ate quickly, being too hungry to indulge in conversation. Roland watched her with interest, pushing one item after another toward her. The dried fish was very salty, of course, as was the meat in the meat pastry. On the other hand, the bananas were exactly the same as in her own time, though a little more bruised.

“I have a bit of business,” Roland said after a while. “You will sit and wait for me here?”

“I’d like to see the sights,” said Rita. “I’ll hurry if you can wait.”

“Oh, I dare not take you with me this time.” Roland grinned and rested one hand on his sword hilt.

“Uh — oh.” She looked up at him in surprise. “You mean, uh, you might —”

“It’s probably nothing,” said Roland. “But I would not take you into such danger. Will you wait for me here, even after you’ve finished your breakfast?”

“Of course I will,” she said, flattered by his concern. “I’ll wait right here. Besides, this stuff is good. Um — am I safe here?”

“Aye, you’ve been seen with me.” With another quick grin, he rose from his seat and slipped away through the growing crowd.

She watched him go, admiring his lithe, energetic walk. He looked as though he would be a good fencer, quick and agile. She wondered if he would get into a duel with some other buccaneer. They could be fighting over money, of course, or something more complicated. She also wondered if he would live. From the viewpoint of her own time, of course, he was long dead of one cause or another. He just didn’t know what would kill him or when it would happen.

Dr. Wayne Nystrom sat in the shade of an awning which extended over the front of a tavern. It was a more expensive spot than most of the waterfront dives, catering to the wealthier customers, sometimes even nobility, who passed through Port Royal. He sipped a mug of herbal tea, waiting patiently.

Wayne had arrived two days before, estimating that MC 2 would return to his normal size about then. Since he wanted to maximize his chance of finding the fugitive robot, he did not just rely on his own personal search. He had struck up a conversation with a friendly young buccaneer and hired him to look for several individuals.

When Roland came into sight, Wayne waved to him. They had arranged to rendezvous at the tavern this morning. Roland grinned and sat down.

“I bid you good morning,” said Roland, glancing at the comfortable surroundings. “I don’t doubt your wealth, Wayne, after you paid me in hard coin a few days ago instead of bartering with me, as most buccaneers would. But you certainly don’t dress like a rich man.”

“I’m wealthy enough to dress as I please.” Wayne took another drink of his herbal tea, hiding behind the cup. “Order as you wish, as my guest.”

Wayne was still wearing the casual clothes of his own time that he had been wearing when he had arrived in Mojave Center. His journey into the past had been rushed and unplanned, leaving him no chance to prepare ahead of time. He had arrived with a backpack containing a change of clothes and some personal items. Selling a brightly colored machine-knit sweater to a drunken buccaneer had brought enough money to pay Roland and eat at a cheap booth, with some coins left over. He had only come to the tavern to drink tea in order to make an impression on Roland.

“No need,” said Roland. “I’ve found that group you hired me to look for.”

“Already? Good.” Wayne raised his eyebrows. “Describe them to me.”

“Big fellow named Hunter, gigantic. Strong enough to throw two men around at the same time, one in each hand, but he doesn’t really like to fight. Avoided it, I think.”

“Go on.”

“Steve. He’s a young man, dark like a Spaniard or a Moor, but not exactly.”

“You ever hear of Cathay?” Wayne was amused. He had only glimpsed Steve Chang, but he knew that he was of Chinese descent. Even in this age of sail, the Chinese and Europeans had not mixed much except for a few sailors and traders.

“Of course. Maybe I’ll sail there someday.” Roland shrugged offhandedly.

“Maybe you will. Who else?”

“They have two women with them. One is named Jane, the other Rita.”

“Yes, that’s them.” Wayne had not known about Rita, but he said nothing about her. He did not want Roland to know he was surprised. Obviously, Hunter had changed his team a little to fit their particular destination.

“You promised me extra pay if I disrupted Hunter’s party somehow.”

“That’s right. What are you going to do?”

“It’s what I’ve already done.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“The lady Rita seems to enjoy my company. She sneaked off with me last night and I put her up alone in a room. We are breakfasting together and, even now, she is waiting for me to hurry back.”

“Excellent!” Wayne smiled. “Yes, yes. Very well done.” He knew that Rita’s separation from Hunter would trigger the robot’s First Law imperative to find her. That would interfere with his search for MC 2 and give Wayne and Roland a better chance of finding MC 2 first.

“I rather enjoy her company myself.”

“Good. Keep her away from Hunter as long as you can. And she likes you. Even better.”

“I can do that. But, uh …” Roland grinned and held out his hand.

Wayne nodded and pulled a few more coins out of his pocket. He did not have much left, but could not afford to admit that, or even look reluctant. Before he saw Roland again, he would have to find some more money. For the moment, he tossed the coins to Roland casually, as though they meant nothing to him.

“So,” said Wayne. “Have you seen anyone who fits my other friend’s description?”

“The man you call by his initials, MC 2.” Roland took a careful glance at the coins before slipping them into a pocket. “I haven’t seen him, but I’ve put the word out among my friends and shipmates. They don’t know why I want him, but they’ll tell me if they see him. A short, slight fellow, you say, likely to be poorly dressed and a bit confused?”

“Yes,” said Wayne. “For all I know, he may be desperately searching for a pair of pants.”

Roland laughed. “That poor, eh? What happened to him? Press-gang grab him in England and let him escape here?”

“Something like that,” said Wayne. “He’ll try to blend in. He won’t know right away that anyone is here looking for him, but he’ll run if he finds out I want to speak to him.”

“He knows Hunter as well, I presume?”

“Not personally, no.”

“Even better. Well, I must be off. Rita may not wait for me forever.”

“Good job, Roland,” said Wayne. “The longer you can keep Rita from returning to Hunter, the more compensation I will have for you.”

“Well enough.” Roland gave him a brisk, cheerful wave and strode away.

Wayne watched him go, wondering if he could get enough money to keep Roland happy. MC 2 might not return to normal size for a day or two, and even then he might escape Wayne’s notice for quite some time. Wayne didn’t know how much he might eventually have to pay Roland so that he would continue distracting Hunter from the search for MC 2.

When Steve left Hunter, he began improvising. Somehow, when Hunter was leading the team, his inexorable robot logic stifled Steve’s spontaneity. Alone, Steve felt more relaxed and able to follow his intuition without having to explain everything to Hunter.

Steve walked up and down several side streets, staying close to the waterfront without confining himself to it. He watched where people went and how they were dressed, gradually identifying some parts of town as more crowded and rougher than others. He saw which streets were thoroughfares and which ones only drew people who had business there.

On one block, a particularly impressive building caught his attention. A two-story wooden structure, it boasted a new coat of brown paint and a carefully tended bed of flowers along its front wall. An awning over the front entrance shaded some tables and chairs from the tropical sunlight. None of the other taverns he had seen was this elaborate. He was startled to see a man in modern clothes sitting at one of the tables, whom he suddenly recognized as Dr. Wayne Nystrom.

Steve stopped where he was, then quickly dodged to one side, behind a large bush growing by the side of the street. Then, sure that Wayne hadn’t seen him yet, he peered through the big leaves on the bush. Roland, who had been talking to Wayne, was just leaving, giving Wayne a quick wave as he walked away. Steve tensed, waiting to see which way Roland would go, but he walked away from Steve up the narrow street.

Steve saw that Rita was not with either one of them. That worried him, though he would have preferred to see her with Wayne; Steve doubted he would hurt her. He understood, though, that Wayne was using Roland to sabotage Hunter’s search. That much was obvious.

Steve glanced over his shoulder and waited for a couple of passersby to move on. Wayne was still sitting at the table. Steve pressed the button on the communicator pinned to his shirt and spoke quietly.

“Hunter, Steve here. Wayne Nystrom is here and Roland is working with him. I’ve seen them together, but Rita wasn’t with them.”

“Give me your location,” said Hunter. “We will join you as soon as we can.”

“He’s getting up,” Steve said suddenly. “He’s walking away. I’ll tail him, Hunter, and keep talking so you can track me. He’s turning … toward the waterfront.”

“What is the name of your street?” Hunter asked. “We can intercept him.”

“Uh —” Steve glanced around but saw no signs anywhere. “I can’t tell. I don’t see a sign. This place is pretty haphazard compared to a city like Mojave Center.”

“I understand. Continue speaking and I will follow your signal. Your voice will be clearer than the static and background street sounds alone.”

“Here goes,” said Steve, as he moved down the street at a safe distance behind Wayne. “I don’t want him to see me because that will really put him on the defensive. I don’t know if he has Rita locked up somewhere or if she’s still with Roland.”

“When I have caught Wayne,” said Hunter, “I believe we can learn something about her. Wait for me to join you. Otherwise, I fear that he will escape you. Also, I am concerned that a real fight may attract attention and alter the behavior of the locals. I do not want to risk their involvement.”

“He may get away anyhow,” said Steve. “I can’t follow him too closely. This street doesn’t have enough people on it for me to hide among. If he turns, he’ll see me.”

“Your signal is much stronger,” said Hunter. “We are walking as quickly as we can without attracting a great deal of attention.”

“He just turned onto the waterfront. He’s walking west and looking at stuff in the booths and shops.” Steve shifted into a jog as Wayne moved around a corner.

By the time Steve had rounded the corner, Wayne was out of sight. Steve looked around frantically, then saw him again, idly examining a clay pot that was for sale.

“If it’s a choice of grabbing Wayne or losing him, which should I do?”

“Do not risk a disturbance,” Hunter said firmly.

8

RITA FINISHED HER herbal tea, glancing about for both Roland and Hunter’s team. Since every sight was new and exciting to her, the time passed quickly. She wondered if Roland had survived his duel, or whatever he had gone to do. Then she also wondered if he had just wanted an excuse to leave her, but that didn’t make sense. If he had tired of her company, he could have simply stayed away that morning.

When Roland came striding back down the street, he was smiling as cheerfully as ever.

“Finished, sweet lady?”

“Just finished. Dm, how was your … business?”

“Easy, Rita. No problem at all.”

“Well, that’s good.” She decided she had better not ask what he had really been doing. A buccaneer wouldn’t like a stranger prying.

“And now, will you accompany me for a walk along the docks? In the salt spray and morning sunshine?”

“I’ve seen the docks,” she said, thinking to herself that Hunter might still be looking for her there. “How about showing me the rest of the town?”

He smiled engagingly. “That, too, can be done. But for now, will you indulge me?”

“Sure.” She followed him, reflecting that Hunter would probably catch up to her sooner or later, anyway. Besides, maybe he was focused on finding MC 2 and wouldn’t worry about her until later.

Hunter, still listening on his internal receiver to Steve’s quiet chatter, led Jane quickly down the waterfront, scanning the booths. She hurried to keep up with his long strides. The area was crowded.

“I see you, Steve,” Hunter radioed. “Look back over your left shoulder.”

Up ahead, Steve did so and saw Hunter. He didn’t seem to be in much of a hurry. Steve stopped and waited for Hunter and Jane to catch up. Then he just shook his head.

“Sorry, Hunter,” Steve said. “I didn’t dare get too close. Then I lost him in the crowd.”

“What was he doing?” Jane asked.

“Just browsing in the booths and shops. Killing time, it seemed to me.”

“We will keep moving,” said Hunter. “Now that we are together, we can apprehend him if necessary. I will be present to see that the First Law is not violated.”

“Finding him in this crowd will be tough,” said Jane. “Now it’s almost as dense as it was last night.”

Hunter nodded and once again led the way.

Rita found the waterfront much more exciting on her second visit. In the daylight, she breathed in the salt air deeply and saw the sea gulls circling and diving over the water. Best of all, though, were the tall-masted ships anchored out in the bay. Those ships, even more than the buccaneers themselves, truly represented the era.

“A pretty sight, is it not?” Roland nodded toward the crowd of ships.

“Fascinating.”

“I hear there is a merchantman out there of two hundred eighty tons that can take you back to Old England in four weeks.” He grinned. “Not that I have any wish to go back, but it takes a fine ship to do that.”

“A month.” Rita suppressed a smile, thinking of how the supersonic planes of her own time could make the jump between lunch and dinner on the same day.

“The mere wink of an eye,” said Roland. “Do you like ships, then?”

“They’re beautiful,” said Rita.

“You must have traveled by ship? That is, unless you were born and raised on Jamaica.”

“Uh — no, I’m not from Jamaica. But I don’t really know ships.”

“Let me help you. You see the biggest ones out there? Only two or three are in sight.”

“The three-masted square-riggers.” Again, Rita fought down a smile. From her book learning, she knew more about the ships of the era than Roland ever would. On the other hand, he had actually sailed them; she had never even seen a real one before.

“That’s right.” He pointed to one. “Those are the finest flagships of a buccaneer fleet. Each one is big enough to slug it out with even a naval frigate. They can also handle a long sea voyage.”

Rita pointed to some smaller ships that were also three-masted and square-rigged. “What are those, then? They look similar.” Of course, she knew very well what they were, but she wanted to keep him talking. Once he had explained the ships, she would no longer have to feign ignorance.

“Merchant ships, including the one I told you about a moment ago.” He winked at her. “Some are here trading legally. Others were, shall we say, brought here by those of us under the governor’s commission.”

“What do you call the bigger of the two-masted ships?” She pointed to one of them.

“Those are brigantines, fine and reliable workhorses. They can take different sails, too, at different times, to suit different conditions.”

“What about the little ones?”

“Ah! My personal favorites, those. The smaller two-masted ships are schooners, perfect in these waters for their speed and shallow draft. The smallest of all are single-masted sloops, the fastest ships on the water.”

“Why are there so many ships in the harbor? Is that normal?” She didn’t think it was, but of course the exact number would be changing day by day.

“Normal, is it?” Roland shrugged. “Ships come and go all the time.”

“Have you sailed on some of these?” Rita winked back at him, smiling. “Maybe on the governor’s commission and maybe without it?”

He threw back his head and laughed. “Aye, that I have. A fine brigantine out there is captained by a man named Quinn. The Hungry Hawk is her name. I’ve sailed with Captain Quinn a number of times. When he needs a crew, I usually hear about it.”

“Do you always go?”

“If the mood strikes me, aye. I’m not bound to him. But he has a keen eye on the open sea. A man can make a profit with a good captain.”

“Roland!”

At the sound of a man’s voice, they both turned. A big, brawny man with a brown beard, wearing tattered knee breeches and nothing else, hurried toward them. He gave Rita a suspicious glance and she turned away to look at the ships again. She was still listening carefully, but she felt she had a better chance of overhearing something interesting if the two buccaneers thought she was distracted.

“What is it, Ned?” Roland glanced at Rita, lowering his voice. “No need to attract attention.”

“Aye, well.” He spoke lower, but Rita could still hear him. “I think we found him. That little fellow you were looking for. Want to see him?”

“That I do. Where is he?”

“Baldy Jim has him in a shed. You know the one?”

“I know it.” Roland drew a coin out of his pocket and pressed it into Ned’s large hand. “We’ll meet you there in a bit. Go back and make certain Baldy doesn’t lose him, all right?”

Ned nodded and rushed away.

Roland turned and studied Rita’s face.

What she had heard sounded like a kidnapping to her. She gave him an expression that she hoped was guileless. “Do you have more business to take care of?”

“Happens that I do,” said Roland. “It won’t be dangerous this time, though. Care to come along?”

“Sure!” Rita was surprised. She had expected him to tell her it was buccaneer business. “I’d love to.”

“All right, then. This way.”

As they walked, though, she felt that he was a little more subdued. Apparently something was on his mind. He was still pleasant and still smiling, but he didn’t point out any more sights.

They walked briskly up the waterfront after Ned. Soon they had left behind the piers and booths and reached a shipyard. There lumber, pitch, canvas, and hemp were stored with other items that ships needed to be outfitted and repaired.

Fewer people were around, but those Rita could see were all working on something. Roland nodded briefly to a couple of them who glanced up. He led her through a maze of the shipbuilding materials and broken, discarded refuse.

Roland walked up to a storage shed, kicking aside some old bits of rope. The shed was made of unfinished wood that was warped from the humidity and tropical sunlight. He rapped twice on the door.

The door opened and Ned stuck his head out. Then he pushed the door open wider, looking at Rita in surprise. He said nothing, though, and Roland held the door open for Rita.

The heat and humidity in the shed were stifling. A small window was open high in the back, but little breeze came in through it. Rita saw a short, muscular man with a slick bald head standing by the window. A very short, slender man with rather ordinary, Western European features was sitting motionless on a small keg.

“That’s him, ain’t he, Roland?” Ned nodded toward the silent figure.

“Must be,” said Roland, looking him over. “Can’t be many fellows his size in Port Royal. Did you ask him his name? Who are you, fellow?”

“Don’t waste your time,” said Ned. “He’s real obedient most times, like if you tell him to sit or walk or whistle a tune. But if you ask him his name or where he’s been or anything personal-like, he don’t make a sound.”

Rita tensed, suddenly looking more closely at the seated figure.

“Funny. But I suppose we can make him talk if we want, now, can’t we?”

“We ain’t tried, Jim and me,” said Ned. “Since we nabbed him for you, we didn’t want to risk hurting him.”

“He’s a tough little bird,” said Baldy Jim. “He ain’t complained once about the heat in here. Ain’t even broke out a sweat that I can see.”

“What’s your name?” Roland asked him.

The seated figure looked up at him but said nothing.

“Where did you find him?” Roland was still looking at the prisoner.

“A couple o’ fellows saw him creeping around down here last night,” said Baldy Jim.

“What was he doing?” Roland asked.

“Well, he didn’t have no clothes and he was digging around in a rag heap. He found an old pair of breeches there and put ’em on. That’s when our pals nabbed him and brought him to me. We all had the word from you to be on the lookout for him.”

Roland nodded thoughtfully.

Rita knew the seated figure was MC 2. Everything she had heard and seen fit his description: he was small of stature; he had appeared without clothing; he was obedient under the Second Law. Yet if, instead of ordering him to provide information, they simply posed questions, he was free to ignore them.

Rita had to decide what to do. For the moment, she wanted to stay with Roland. Since he seemed to be in charge of MC 2, she could stay with Roland and keep track of MC 2 as well. Then, when she was ready, she could simply call Hunter on her communicator and arrange for him to apprehend MC 2.

She concluded that Roland, despite the arguments of the group, must be looking for some man of his own time who fit MC 2’s description. Certainly she didn’t see how an English buccaneer in Port Royal could be “on the lookout,” as Baldy Jim had said, for a robot.

Roland leaned past her to look out the doorway. She watched his face and saw that he looked all the way down the waterfront again, carefully. He said nothing, however, and moved back inside the shed.

“Look, Ned,” said Roland. “Do you happen to know if any ships are heading out soon? Like maybe the Hungry Hawk? Captain Quinn asked me to crew with him a few days ago, and he’s still in the harbor.”

“That’s right,” said Ned. “Quinn is sailing on the midday tide, but he has a full crew. Baldy Jim here tried to join him and they put him off.”

“All right,” Roland said quickly, tossing them both another coin. “Here’s what we’ll do. Bring a dinghy around, quick. Quinn owes me a few favors. We’re going to the rag heap, then we’ll meet you at the dock.”

“Right-o,” said Ned.

All the humans left the shed. MC 2 remained impassively on the keg. Rita couldn’t talk to him alone, and she didn’t want the buccaneers, even Roland, to know that she had special knowledge about their captive.

“I’ll watch him,” said Roland, “No need to lock it.”

While the other two men went to find a dinghy, Roland led Rita without a word to a pile of refuse on the far side of the shed. Most of it was rags, but he pulled out a couple of torn articles of clothing that were basically still whole. He tossed them to her.

“You’re much too ladylike, sweet lady. We’re going on board a ship. Look as ragged and dirty as you can, and like a cabin boy if possible.”

A thrill of excitement hit Rita all at once. She was actually going on board a pirate ship about to set sail. Anxiously, she shook out the old clothes he tossed her. Finally she found a pair of loose, baggy pants, a tattered, patched man’s shirt, and a torn leather vest that she could wear over it.

“These will fit,” said Rita, with a reluctant, wry smile.

“Change in the shed,” said Roland. “I’ll have our friend come out and stand with me.”

9

SOON RITA WAS dressed in filthy, baggy clothes, carrying her others in a tight bundle. She followed Roland and MC 2 to the nearest dock. Ned and Baldy Jim were waiting there with a dinghy that tossed lightly on the waves.

“Get in, Shorty,” Ned said to MC 2.

MC 2 obeyed without speaking and found a seat in the middle. Roland helped Rita climb down into the boat, then followed her. The buccaneers pushed off and began to row. Roland also took an oar and pointed to another for MC 2, who took it obediently.

Rita breathed in the sea air and let the spray hit her as it came over the side of the boat. Slowly but steadily, they drew nearer the big anchored ships. She searched her memory for the political situation in the Caribbean in 1668.

England, France, and Spain were at peace with each other. That meant the buccaneers couldn’t get legal commissions from the governor of Jamaica as privateers. So when their money ran low, they would just go out and pirate a ship on their own, as outlaws. As long as their prey was not British, however, they had some confidence that the governor would look the other way.

Soon Rita saw that they were rowing for a brigantine named the Hungry Hawk. It was a two-masted square-rigger, well-weathered. The ship had not seen fresh paint for a long time, but the sails and ropes were in good condition. Sailors on board saw them coming and began yelling to each other.

“Ahoy!” Roland cupped his hands around his mouth. “Ahoy the Hungry Hawk. Where’s Captain Quinn?”

The sailors shouted for their captain, who came striding to the rail. Rita was hoping, despite her historical knowledge, that he might be a wild-looking character with a villainous stare, but of course she knew better than to expect that much melodrama. Captain Quinn was a man of average height and medium build with a brown beard. He wore a plain linen shirt and knee breeches, like most of his buccaneer colleagues, but he also wore a broad-brimmed hat with a blue plume.

“You’re too late, Roland,” called Captain Quinn. “We have a full crew already.”

“I have some trouble,” Roland shouted back. “And a couple of friends with me.”

Captain Quinn frowned and studied the group in the dinghy. “How many altogether?”

“Three of us. We need to get out of Port Royal for a bit. Can you help?”

“Come on, then.” Captain Quinn waved for his men to throw down a rope ladder.

Rita could see that Roland’s need to leave town was the kind of argument that Captain Quinn and the other buccaneers understood easily. She waited to see what Roland wanted her to do, remembering that she was masquerading as a cabin boy if the buccaneers would buy that. If they didn’t, she would have to hope that Roland could protect her on board the ship.

Roland grabbed the rope ladder and climbed up a few rungs. Then he motioned for Rita to follow. She took hold of the rough, thick rope carefully and felt the lowest rung sag slightly under her weight. When she started climbing, though, she found it fairly easy to do.

“You next,” Roland called down to MC 2.

MC 2 obediently began to follow Rita. After what seemed like a very long, slow, clumsy climb, she finally reached the rail of the ship. Roland took her arm and helped her over the rail onto the deck, then did the same with MC 2.

“Captain, these two young fellows are Rye and Shorty,” said Roland, tapping Rita and MC 2 on the shoulder in turn. “They don’t speak much and I like it that way. But they’ll do as I say on board.”

“Fair enough.” Captain Quinn nodded to both of them. “You’ve always been a fine man to have, Roland. But tell me, now. How serious is the trouble in town?”

“It’s not the governor,” said Roland, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “A very big, brawny fellow and his mates are out to do harm to my young friends, here. We just need to give them time to cool off.”

“I understand. You see your boys pull their own weight in the work.” He glanced over the side to Ned and Baldy Jim, who were still waiting. “Them, too, I guess?”

“They’re good men, with many months on the seas,” said Roland. “They’ve hauled in plenty of Spanish gold in their time.”

“All right.” Captain Quinn turned to another man. “Help them pull that dinghy aboard.” He slapped Roland on the back and walked away.

Rita let out a quiet sigh of relief. Roland winked at her. MC 2 remained motionless.

“I’m sorry I lost Wayne, Hunter,” said Steve, looking up and down the waterfront.

“At least we known for sure he is nearby,” said Hunter. “If he has learned more about MC 2 than we have, then his presence is further evidence that MC 2 may be here too.”

“Thanks for the nice words,” said Steve. “But I still feel lousy. I shouldn’t have lost him.”

“Every moment that goes by increases the chance that MC 2 is now visible at full size,” said Jane. “Theoretically, he could be anywhere in town, or even somewhere else on the island, but I don’t take that seriously.”

“Why not?” Hunter asked, still looking over the crowd as they walked.

“Once he has reached full size, he will either have to avoid human society completely to be safe from the imperatives of the Three Laws of Robotics, or else he will have to study the local culture very carefully in order to understand the customs and language. That’s the only way he can live among humans and still obey the Laws.”

“Makes sense,” said Steve. “And you pointed out before that he’ll need clothes.”

“Since the nuclear explosion in our own time was centered in the remains of Port Royal, he obviously didn’t go hide out in the mountains to stay,” said Jane. “And if he’s in town, the waterfront is the best location for displaced humans to find their way. Strangers come and go here all the time and no one thinks much of it. Many of them are destitute, too, and that will also camouflage MC 2.”

“This is very logical,” said Hunter. “So we will continue looking for him here.”

“I wish we could do more than just walk around and look,” said Steve.

“I have tried to call MC 2 directly by radio,” said Hunter. “I also have done that with Rita, and received no response from either one. If MC 2 is listening, he knows that someone with the capability of radio transmission is here and he has chosen to remain out of contact.”

“He has probably turned off his receiver,” said Jane. “For the same reason MC 1 did on our last mission. As soon as he heard your first signal, he knew someone might have come to find him, so he’s avoiding the chance of hearing a human voice under the Second Law.”

“I suspect you are right,” said Hunter. “However, that may be just as well. We might have a better chance to catch MC 2 if he cannot approximate my position from measuring the strength of my radio signal and my movements.” As he spoke, he continued to look in all directions on a regular basis.

“Hunter,” said Steve. “I’m no historian like Rita, but I think I understand how this town operates. People know a lot more than they tell strangers and they’re all suspicious of authority. Bribes and payment for information will probably work a lot better here than just walking around asking polite questions.”

“My data tell me that bribes are illegal and ethically objectionable,” said Hunter. “Of course, I realize that laws and customs may be different here, but if they are wrong because humans would be harmed —”

“Think of it this way, Hunter,” said Jane quickly. “This buccaneer society is a barely functioning anarchy. Further, it’s definitely a free port with a laissez-faire economy. You have all these terms in your stored data, I’m sure.”

“Yes. I understand what you mean.”

“Good. Then you’re using these more technical terms now to access your data on human societies.”

“Yes.”

“Then in order to accept Steve’s advice under the First Law, I think all you have to understand is that this system worked to some degree in this time and place in history. How does that strike you?”

“I see what you mean,” said Hunter. “But for the moment, bribery will not be necessary.” He stopped where he was, looking out into the bay.

“What is it, Hunter?” Steve looked, too, but he couldn’t tell where, among all the ships out in the harbor, Hunter was focusing his attention.

Hunter pointed. “Your unmagnified human vision cannot recognize faces from this distance, but you can see the dinghy that has rowed up to the second ship from the left.”

“I see it,” said Jane. “Who’s in it?”

“Roland, Rita, and MC 2 are climbing from the dinghy up to the deck of the ship on a rope ladder. Two other men are holding the boat steady for them.”

“You’re sure it’s MC 2?” Jane asked.

“He is identical to MC 1.”

“They’re going on board a pirate ship?” Steve was amazed. “What does she think she’s doing?”

“She’s on a great adventure,” said Jane, grimly. “And she’s the one who doesn’t believe that any actions except the most significant ones can change history, especially from this little backwater town.”

“At least she has the freedom of human judgment,” said Hunter. “I am more afraid of MC 2. He may feel that under the First Law he must break up fights — I feel that impulse strongly myself. He is more likely than she to change history, I think.”

“We can’t just let them go,” said Steve. “How are we going to follow them?”

Wayne stood near the far end of the docks by a stack of barrels of pitch, catching his breath after a long, frantic run in the humid midday heat. He had seen the dinghy being rowed out into the bay with Roland and MC 2 when it was still close enough for the passengers to be recognized. Desperately, he had tried to push his way through the crowd, shouting for them to stop. No one in the dinghy had even turned to look, though, and he was sure they had not been able to hear him. He had not recognized the others in the boat.

“Roland,” Wayne muttered in puzzlement. “What possible reason could you have for running off with MC 2?”

He was still watching in frustration as the dinghy slowly drew up to one of the ships in the harbor. Then suddenly a possibility occurred to him. If Roland had figured out that MC 2 always protected humans and obeyed orders, then he might want to keep him around. MC 2 would make a perfect servant and bodyguard for a buccaneer. However, if that were true, then Roland had no intention now of bringing MC 2 back to Wayne.

“Lousy pirate,” Wayne said angrily. “Can’t trust him. Now I’ll have to get MC 2 back myself. Well … at least I know where he is.”

Steve helplessly watched the dinghy being hoisted on board the ship. “We’re going to lose them, Hunter, if we just stand here.”

“The name of the ship is the Hungry Hawk,” said Hunter. “I can read it painted on the side. But I do not have the money to hire a ship to follow them. Nor can we expect to get it.”

“I have an idea,” said Steve. “But hear me out, okay? You might not like it at first.”

“Agreed,” said Hunter.

“Can’t we get enough lumber for a small, fast-moving sailboat? I can give you a modern design and you can calculate the exact specifications we’ll need.”

“A modern design might catch on,” said Hunter. “And change the course of sailing technology in history.”

“No! That’s my point — when we’re finished with it, we’ll destroy it — sink it or take it apart. We won’t leave any evidence.”

“What type of design do you have in mind?”

“A small outrigger,” said Steve. “It will only have to carry the three of us and some drinking water and food. For speed, we’ll want a high mast and a deep keel to balance it. The outrigger design can give us greater stability than we would have otherwise — that’s the part that no one here in Jamaica right now is using.”

“I have accessed some data on sailing design,” said Hunter. “I believe we might have enough money to buy the lumber for such a boat. I also see that the outrigger may well work, but I fear that someone will see the idea behind it and try to use it in the near future. It is the concept, not the exact design, that is important and might trigger a change in history.”

“I wish we had our historian here,” said Jane. “She hasn’t been any help since she sneaked away. But really, Hunter, I doubt that the outrigger idea would be used here anyway because it isn’t necessary.”

“How’s that?” Steve looked at her.

“My study of robotics included some history of technological development. Technological change is related to need as well as to concept. For instance, much of the sailing technology that was used by the early explorers in Columbus’s generation had been in use for a century already in Dutch windmills. It only came into sailing use after the desire to explore by sea became more intense following the fall of Constantinople.”

“In other words,” said Steve, “you think people here won’t care about the outrigger because the ships they already have are doing what they need.”

“Well, yes. I guess I was a little long-winded, huh?” She smiled self-consciously. “What do you think, Hunter?”

“I understand,” said Hunter.

“Shall we try it?” Steve asked.

“Yes. We must find a place to buy the lumber. I will calculate our exact material requirements as we go.”

Rita stood with MC 2 by the rail, out of the way of the crew, as the ship set sail. She watched the men in the rigging and on deck with fascination. None of the book learning she had acquired over the years could replace actually standing on the deck with them, breathing the salt air and listening to the wood creak under the pressure of the sea and the wind.

“We have a good wind.” Roland strode up to them, grinning. “I helped a little just to take part, but they don’t need me. As the captain said, they had a full crew before we came aboard.” He looked at MC 2. “So, Shorty. You like going to sea?”

“Yes,” said MC 2.

“Where are you from, friend? Old England, or one of the colonies?” Roland spoke casually, but he was watching MC 2’s face carefully.

“A colony,” said MC 2.

“Which one?”

“Virginia.”

“Virginia.” Roland thought a moment. “That’s up on the mainland coast, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“How long have you been in Jamaica?”

“Not long.”

Roland watched him a moment, then just gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder and turned to watch Port Royal slowly shrink behind them.

Rita guessed that MC 2 was being careful under the Third Law of Robotics, which required him to protect himself if he could do so without violating the other two Laws. That would explain his reluctance to converse. She didn’t know if he had really been manufactured in Virginia or not, of course, but it was possible.

She turned her back on both Roland and MC 2 and gazed out to the open sea.

10

WAYNE KNEW HE had very little time to follow the Hungry Hawk before it was lost on the open sea. His only hope was to find someone with a ship already outfitted who was willing to sail. He paced up and down one of the docks, squinting into the sunlight as he studied the ships.

“No use,” he said to himself, finally. The distance was too great for him to see the kinds of details that would tell him if a ship out there was supplied for a voyage. He glanced around for the nearest tavern and hurried toward it, planning what he would say as he walked.

The tavern was shadowed from the hot sun, of course, but the humid air was stale and motionless inside. Wayne blinked for a moment, waiting for his vision to adjust. Then he went to the bar and waved to the burly man behind it.

“What’ll it be, mate?”

“I’m looking for a man with a ship ready to sail,” said Wayne, keeping his voice low.

“What’s his name?”

“No, I mean, I want to find such a man. Can you help?” He leaned on the bar.

“What’s in it for me?” The burly barkeeper wiped the bar idly with a damp cloth.

“A cut from his end.” Wayne glanced around warily, though the place was almost empty. “I have word that the Hungry Hawk is after a fat Spanish merchant ship.”

“Is he, now?” The barkeeper’s tone betrayed some real interest. “I did hear Quinn sailed ‘cause he was desperate for a little hard coin.”

“What better time is there? But I know which way he went and where he’s headed.” That last part wasn’t quite true, of course, but Wayne knew he had to gamble.

“That old Quinn. He just might do that. He’s a tricky one. Don’t shoot his mouth off like so many men in this town.” The barkeeper was silent a moment. “I know a man who might want to speak with you. But I’ll take my cut from both sides, thank you.” He held out his hand.

Wayne knew he had no choice. “Don’t waste any time. The Hungry Hawk is already under sail.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his few remaining coins. “It’s all I have left,” he said, dropping them into the other man’s palm.

“Better than naught. Stay right here.” The barkeeper walked down to the end of the bar and spoke quietly to someone mopping the wooden floor. With a quick nod, the other figure leaned the mop against the wall and darted out the back door.

Wayne wiped sweat from his eyes and collapsed into a seat. Without any money left, he couldn’t pay for a drink at the bar or any food or lodging later. If his plan didn’t work, he would probably have no chance to catch MC 2. In order to survive he would be forced to return to his own time and risk getting caught in some trap back at the Bohung Institute.

Through the open doorway, he could still see the Hungry Hawk sailing away. It seemed to move with painful slowness to someone accustomed to supersonic airplanes. Of course, speed was relative; a pursuing ship would be subject to the same winds.

Wayne was starting to doze in the heat when he heard the sound of fast, hard footsteps clunking into the tavern. Startled, he sat up quickly. A man’s shadow was blocking out the sunlight.

“Who wants me?” The shadow shouted, shifting shape slightly as he looked around in the nearly empty tavern.

“What’s in it for me?” The barkeeper walked down the length of the bar toward him.

“You’ll keep your throat whole. Now your man brought me over here with a story, but you’ll see no money from me until I’ve heard it all.”

“He’s the one,” said the barkeeper, nodding toward Wayne.

“Oh?” The man in the doorway came inside and glowered down at Wayne. He wore a broad-brimmed hat with several plumes on it; under the hat, long brown hair hung to his shoulders. His beard was full and shaggy; he wore a white linen shirt, black knee breeches and buckled shoes, and a cutlass swung at his side. “I’m Captain Mick Tomann of the Old Laughing Lady.”

“Wayne Nystrom, Captain. Have a seat.” Wayne sat up, gathering his wits.

Tomann sat down, watching him suspiciously. “You know of a Spanish pigeon, do you?”

“Yes,” said Wayne. He didn’t, of course, but if he could grab MC 2 on the high seas, he could just take him back to his own time from there. “But the Hungry Hawk has already gone after it. I’m looking for a partner.”

“What do I need a partner for?”

“I can tell you where to find the prey.”

“Quinn is headed northeast around the island, probably headed for the coast of Cuba. I saw that on my way here just now. Any fool can see that.”

“Ah, but what if you lose him? I know where he’s going. And you’ll need time to get under way.”

Tomann frowned at him, resting one hand on his cutlass hilt. “Not much time, matey. I have some supplies already on board for a voyage I’ve already planned. Any my crew is hanging about on the waterfront, with naught to do and spoiling for a fight.”

“You have the ship and the crew and I have the information.” Wayne jerked his thumb toward the sea. “The Hungry Hawk is under sail even as we speak.”

Tomann grinned suddenly, slammed his fist down on the table, and leaped to his feet. “Aye! Let’s go. The Old Laughing Lady is a schooner that can outsail that fat old brig on any sea, in any weather!”

Wayne smiled with relief and stood up. The barkeeper came forward.

“Captain,” said the barkeeper. “Since I brought you two together, I believe a consideration for your humble servant is in order here.”

Tomann whirled on him, drawing his cutlass in a wild, sweeping motion. The barkeeper jumped back.

“We shall see, my humble friend. If the pigeon is found heavy in the water, I shall bring a trinket back home for you. Until then, back away.”

The barkeeper did so.

“Come on, friend,” Tomann added to Wayne. “We have a crew to gather.” He sheathed his cutlass and strode out.

Wayne hurried after him.

Steve grinned as he trotted after Hunter. The big robot was carrying a massive armload of lumber on one shoulder, under the front end of the planks. He was easily able to carry the load, but Steve was hustling along under the rear end of the lumber, pretending to help so that passersby wouldn’t notice just how impossibly strong Hunter was. In addition, Hunter was carrying a bunch of woodworking tools in his other arm.

Jane walked alongside Steve, amused by the masquerade.

Hunter kept walking after the docks ended. The trio wove their way through a variety of other work areas and warehouses along the water before they finally left the occupied areas behind. Then Hunter stopped and turned to look back over his shoulder, carefully checking to see that he did not strike Steve or Jane as he lowered his load to the sand.

“I have devised a plan to work from,” said Hunter. “Partly from my stored data and partly from observing the ships in the bay. With these manual tools, I will be able to work much faster than either of you.”

“I can still do whatever you say,” said Steve. “Even a few minutes saved will help in the long run.”

“Agreed,” said Hunter. “I will give you specific tasks, since I have no way to convey the complete plan.”

“You could draw it in the sand,” said Jane.

“I dare not leave any record, even in sand,” said Hunter. “If anyone seems to take particular notice of our actions, please inform me.”

“I can help, too,” said Jane. “I think.”

“I do not doubt it,” said Hunter. “But I fear that a woman doing such work with us might attract attention in this time, and that would be unwise.”

“I suppose.” Jane shrugged. “Then I’ll stand around and supervise.”

“You cannot supervise without knowing the plan,” said Hunter.

“That’s another joke, Hunter,” said Steve.

“Ah. Was it funny?”

“No,” said Steve. “Now, then. How do we start?”

Hunter worked through the afternoon, doing most of the labor. He was not only faster than Steve, but also more precise in his work. Jane watched for company, but few people came so far from the center of the waterfront. Those who did walk by on the beach took no notice. Steve could see that among the buccaneers, minding one’s own business was a survival trait, and woodworking was common along the docks anyway.

“There’s another one,” said Steve, standing up from a newly sawed board to wipe sweat from his face. “This climate is great for you, Hunter, because the sun beats down constantly on your solar collectors. But I need a break.”

“Of course,” said Hunter, without looking up from his chisel and hammer. “Suit your own need, as you wish.”

“I want to dunk myself in the water,” said Steve, turning to Jane. “Walk with me?”

“Sure.”

Steve wanted to talk to Jane alone for a moment. He led her to the edge of the water and they waded along the surf, away from Hunter. Steve knew that if Hunter wanted to monitor their conversation, he could turn up his hearing to do so; the robot could probably even filter out the sound of the breakers. However, Hunter probably wouldn’t bother.

Steve put his arm around Jane and leaned close to her ear. “Any idea what our chances are now?”

“Of catching MC 2, you mean?”

“Yeah. I mean, snagging MC 1 was a lot simpler in the dinosaur age. No other humans lived in that time to complicate the search. Now we have all these pirates to worry about.”

“That’s true, but this world isn’t as complex as ours. I think if we can catch that ship, we’ll still have a reasonable chance of finding MC 2.”

“Even with all those pirates around?” He glanced back over his shoulder. Hunter was working hard, but of course he could be listening without appearing to be.

“Well, it all depends on Hunter right now.” Jane stopped and watched the surf splash around her legs, holding her skirt up with one hand. “Without his robotic abilities, we wouldn’t be able to get this little sailboat made. If I can keep Hunter focused on action, instead of on frustration over the First Law, then he’ll be worth any number of buccaneers.”

“I don’t doubt that part.”

“What really makes me angry is Rita’s lack of professionalism, running off like that.” Her tone was hard.

“I know,” Steve let himself fall into the cool water on his back, then spat out water and regained his footing. “I have to say, this life-style seems pretty carefree. Fruit and fish everywhere, the sea and the beaches, and a feeling of adventure.”

“Not you, too.”

“No, not really. Let’s start back.”

By the time the sun was low in the west and the fishing boats were coming in, Hunter had cut and shaped all the wood. Steve had done what little he could. Most of all, he was glad to feel the cool air of evening.

“Dinnertime,” said Steve. “Tonight I wish Jane and I could just get what we need from the sunlight, but it won’t work for us.”

Hunter looked up at both of them.

“We can leave you here to keep working,” said Jane.

“No,” said Hunter. “The waterfront is too violent at night. I will come with you.”

“I had a hunch you would,” said Steve.

Rita stretched out on the deck of the Hungry Hawk after dark like the rest of the buccaneers, except for those on duty. The masts and sails rose high above her, their tops now beyond the reach of the torchlight on deck. Dinner had been fairly good, a sort of stew. On their first night out of port, the fresh meat and produce were still good. She knew that in such a warm climate, the fare would quickly turn to salted fish and pork, and hard biscuits.

Roland had picked out a spot in a corner of the deck toward the stern for the three of them. They were right under the rail, wadding up some empty burlap bags he had brought to use as pillows. MC 2 lay down near Rita, still imitating the behavior of the humans around him. Roland sat down on her other side.

“Faring well, sweet lady?” Roland whispered.

“Well enough.” She looked out over the water, where the moon was rising.

“A fair night.”

“Yes, it is.” She decided to ask him some of the questions she had been considering, hoping that this would be a good time. Still looking away from him, she spoke casually. “Tell me about your travels.”

“My travels?” He sounded surprised.

“That’s right.”

“Well, I was born to a London waterfront family. Nothing to speak of there, except the ships were always coming and going. So I grew up wanting to get out, and the sea was the way to go.” He shrugged.

“How old were you?”

“I was an eleven-year-old cabin boy on a trader to Holland and back first. Later, I came out this way.”

“When did you, uh …”

“Join the buccaneers?” He grinned. “I jumped ship off a brig in Tortuga a few years ago. Liked the climate and the freedom. Then I came to Port Royal with some shipmates just last year. It was too crowded in Tortuga.” He shrugged. “It’s a better life than I ever had in Old England.”

Rita didn’t dare look at him. Instead, she watched the bright moon in the dark sky. It looked the same as it did in her own time.

She was telling herself not to ask any more about his life. He must have killed people, of course. His was a violent time and a violent life. He was a creature of his time and he had survived so far.

Uncomfortably, she reminded herself again that from the vantage point of her life and time, he had been dead for centuries. That was her professionalism coming to the ore again. After all, she repeated to herself, she was here first as a historian. She was merely doing field research, the same way anthropologists, zoologists, and other scientists had always done.

“Is something wrong?” Roland slipped his arm around her shoulders.

Rita stiffened, startled though not exactly surprised. Roland was exciting but his action scared her. She tried to push his hand away, but he held on.

“Ah, Rita, speak to me. What’s on your mind?”

“Let go.” Suddenly more afraid, despite his calm manner, she struggled to get free.

Instead, Roland grabbed her arm with his other hand. “What is it? All of a sudden, you’re —” He stopped abruptly.

Rita saw that MC 2 had sat up and taken hold of one of Roland’s wrists in a smooth, quick motion. MC 2 slowly but firmly pulled Roland’s hand away from Rita.

“Go back to sleep,” Roland ordered. “Or go away. Take a walk, Shorty.”

Instead, MC 2 pushed Roland’s other hand off Rita’s shoulders.

“Hey, what’s wrong, Shorty?” Roland moved up into a crouch, ready to fight if necessary. “You’ve been taking orders up to now without a complaint. Gone sweet on the lady, eh?”

Rita scooted out from between them. She got to her feet and moved to the rail. Her heart was pounding.

“You have quite a grip, there, Shorty.” Roland stood up, eyeing MC 2 cautiously and rubbing one wrist.

MC 2 remained seated on the deck, watching Roland.

Rita, now relieved, suppressed a smile. MC 2 was far stronger than any human, even with his small size. If he was really forced to prove that, of course, he would no longer be able to get lost in the crowd of buccaneers. For now, though, Roland didn’t seem inclined to fight with him.

“Think I’ll take a stroll about the deck,” said Roland. He nodded to Rita and walked away, glancing back once to make sure that MC 2 was remaining where he was.

Rita sat down next to MC 2 again. She felt safe now, but was still wide-awake. Still, she was also glad to know that MC 2 would keep her from harm if he could.

11

DR. WAYNE NYSTROM, robotics researcher and inventor, was not comfortable. He stood in the shadows on the deck of the Old Laughing Lady, watching three different drunken brawls among members of the crew. Every man in the crew had started drinking rum from the moment the ship was under sail, not the least of them Captain Mick Tomann himself.

“Stand away! Stand away, lads!” Tomann was swaggering about the deck with a tankard in his left hand and a flintlock pistol in the other. As Wayne watched, the captain sighted drunkenly up into the rigging and fired. The ball chipped a piece of wood off a yardarm. “Ha! Got it.” He stuck that pistol into his belt and drew another.

The sound of scraping metal rose from one of the brawls. The fight between two men had grown more serious; cutlasses had been drawn and Wayne could see the yellowish light from a swaying ship’s lantern shining on them. Curious, but still careful, he moved up a little to watch.

“Hold! Hold there, I say!” Tomann somehow staggered toward the impending sword fight on the moving deck, brandishing his second pistol.

The crowd of buccaneers surrounding the fighters opened the way for him.

“Drop ’em!” Tomann heaved the rum out of his tankard into one man’s face, then flung the tankard itself at the other. “Fight all you want, but save the cutting for the Spanish. We have gold to win tomorrow!”

Drunken cheers rose from the crew. A couple of men took the cutlasses away from their companions and gave them more rum instead. Distracted, they drank up. Tomann stumbled away in search of more rum.

Wayne sighed with relief and stepped back into the shadows. Then he looked out across the moonlit sea. The Hungry Hawk was hidden by the darkness, but Tomann had managed to get his crew together and set sail before it had been out of sight for long. Wayne had pointed out the way and, as Tomann had promised, the Old Laughing Lady was a faster ship. Shortly before sundown, the Hungry Hawk had come into sight again in the distance.

Steve stood with Jane on the dock, watching their small sailboat bob on the water, tied securely. Hunter had finished it near midnight. As Steve had suggested, one tall mast rose from a short, sharply pointed hull. Now that it was in the water, with the keel out of sight, it looked unbalanced, but the keel was big enough to help stabilize the little boat. Two long poles extended from the starboard side, holding a thick, smoothly polished log. The outrigging would make the craft even more stable. Hunter had stretched a canvas tarpaulin across part of the hull to provide some shelter for the humans when they crawled under it.

“Looks good so far,” said Steve.

“Let us load it,” said Hunter. “Steve, if you will stand inside, I will hand the containers to you.”

“All right.” Carefully, he moved from the dock into the sailboat. It swayed, then steadied. “Hunter, don’t wooden boats normally have to season in the water? So the wood will expand from absorbing the water and fill the cracks between the boards?”

“Usually, yes,” said Hunter, handing him a keg of fresh drinking water. “I included this problem in my calculations. The hull was already watertight as I constructed it.”

“Handy,” Steve muttered to himself, impressed.

Earlier, right after dinner, Hunter had accompanied Steve and Jane to buy and carry some food and water for their trip. After they had loaded the supplies and Steve and Jane had taken seats in the boat, Hunter cast off the lines and stood on the dock, still holding the bowline.

“We have a moderate onshore wind,” he said. “However, this boat is very maneuverable. I do not expect a problem.” He stepped into the boat with a robotic sense of balance that hardly made the boat sway at all.

“We should name this craft,” said Steve. “And break a bottle over its bow.”

“Why?” Hunter looked at him. “That would waste valuable drinking water.”

“It’s another joke, Hunter,” said Jane, grinning at Steve.

“Oh. Was this one funny?”

“Not any more,” said Steve, smiling back at Jane. “Here.” He reached down into the water and splashed water up against the hull. “I hereby christen her the Jamaica Jane.”

Jane rolled her eyes, laughing.

In one smooth motion, Hunter hoisted the sail and sat down at the tiller, holding it firmly as the wind filled the sail with a jerk. Steve flailed for a handhold and got a fistful of Jane’s hair. She jumped in surprise, then laughed as they both braced themselves against kegs of water.

Hunter took the Jamaica Jane away from the dock in a firm, sure tack against the wind. The boat tilted hard to starboard, driving the outrigger under the surface of the water. It held, however, preventing the sailboat from taking too extreme an angle.

Steve squinted against the breeze, feeling the cold spray hit his face. The night was cool but not cold, even over the water. He felt a surge of excitement.

“Hunter?” Jane turned around awkwardly to face him. “Can we really move fast enough to catch up?”

“Yes. We have an excellent ratio of sail to water resistance. Also, I have made careful calculations of the wind and currents.” He leaned over the side and reached out with his long arm to dip one hand into the water. “As we go, I will continue to feel the currents. This will help me calculate the best angle at which to sail.”

“Can you really do that? Feel the currents by sticking your hand into the water while we’re moving?” Jane looked at the dark water doubtfully. “I know your robotic sensors are good, but does the water tell you that much?”

“Yes,” said Hunter. “My data on sailing include some information about ancient Polynesians doing this. They could even calculate where unknown islands would be, from miles away, according to how the water moved around them.”

“No kidding,” said Steve. “Really?”

“Yes. We do not need to follow the Hungry Hawk precisely, or to use only line of sight to find it. Since I know the direction it took, the winds and currents it has had available to use, and the level of technology on the ship, I should be able to intercept it by sometime tomorrow.”

“Sounds like we’re all set,” said Steve.

“We have one serious vulnerability,” said Hunter. “This craft will not take high waves well. I will keep my sensors carefully trained on changes in ions, humidity, and temperature to predict the weather.”

“I won’t complain about that,” said Steve, grinning. He felt a surge of excitement as the wind whipped his hair and the boat rose and fell with the waves.

“Good idea, Hunter,” said Jane.

Steve leaned toward her. “Exciting, isn’t it? Chasing a pirate ship across the Caribbean?”

She nodded, more nervous than excited. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ve been thinking about these pirate ships. And the danger to MC 2. He’s heavier than water.”

“You mean if he goes overboard during an attack?”

“Yes. He can swim … if he’s close enough to land, he can get back. But if it’s too far —”

“He’ll sink to the bottom.”

“Actually, he doesn’t need oxygen. He could sink and walk to shore. But again, he has to be close enough not to use up all his energy first. And walking through water would drain his energy much faster than ordinary walking.”

“If he’s lost on the bottom, we’d never find him.”

“No. But when the right time comes, he’ll still explode with the same force, wherever he is on the seafloor.”

The next morning after a rather spare breakfast, Rita again stood by the rail with MC 2, staying out of the way of the buccaneers. Everyone was excited. As dawn had broken over the sea, they had spotted a Spanish merchant ship on the horizon. Rita watched it all morning, realizing for the first time how painfully slow the race between the ships would be.

“This feels like it will take forever,” said Rita. Then she wondered if she could engage MC 2 in conversation while Roland was up in the rigging helping to sail the ship.

“Tell me why these two ships sail at different speeds.”

Under the Second Law, MC 2 did not hesitate.

“Both ships are using the same wind for power out in the open sea. The only difference in their speed comes from the design of the ships and the weight they carry. Occasionally, one ship might move into a fast-moving current before the other, also giving it an advantage.”

“Thank you.” Rita smiled, pleased that getting the robot to talk was so simple. “Your eyesight must be better than mine. Tell me what you can see about that ship up there.”

“By the name on its side, it is the Cadiz. That name suggests that it is Spanish. It is riding low in the water, obviously full of cargo. Also, from the shape of the ship I can see above the waterline, I infer that the shape of the hull below the water is wide and bulky. This creates more resistance against the water, slowing it down.”

Rita knew he was correct. “Is there any chance it can get away?”

“By its own actions, I do not believe so. However, the sailors on our ship could conceivably make a mistake in their handling of the rigging or their calculation of the changes in the wind. Also, of course, the sails and rope on this ship are in various conditions. Any unexpected problem, such as broken rigging or torn sails, could affect the accuracy of my prediction.”

“Or a change in the weather.”

“I detect no atmospheric alterations that signal a coming change,” said MC 2. “But in principle of course, even a small storm could separate the ships.”

“Realistically, then, we’re going to catch the Cadiz,” said Rita.

“Yes.”

“How long will it take, under present conditions?”

“Approximately six hours.”

“Six hours?” Rita watched MC 2 for a moment before looking out across the sea again toward the Spanish ship. Of course, from the perspective of her own time, the Hungry Hawk had either caught the Cadiz on this voyage or it had not; everything the buccaneers did, at least without the influence of the time travelers, was already decided. That left her wondering what MC 2 would do when the pirates attacked the Spanish.

Even a robot, acting alone, could not possibly stop all those humans from harming each other. Rita was no roboticist, of course, but any human of her time knew something of robots and the Three Laws. She decided to instruct him outright to tell her what he would do, even though doing so would reveal her as a human from his time.

“Tell me if the First Law will force you to try to stop the fight.” Rita glanced at the buccaneers nearest them. None was paying attention to them. They wouldn’t understand the entire question, of course, but they wouldn’t like to hear that anyone might want to stop the coming fight.

“I did not know a fight was certain,” said MC 2. “But of course, if you know the Laws, you must have pursued me here. Have you come to take me back?”

“I certainly should,” she said carefully. “You are not to leave my company. That’s an instruction under the Second Law. Understood?”

“Yes.”

“Then tell me what I asked.”

“I suspected a fight would occur, but the buccaneers have talked specifically of taking the ship and the cargo, not of harming humans. I am hoping that the Spanish will surrender without resistance.”

“I wouldn’t count on that,” said Rita.

“Then you must know that the First Law requires that I prevent harm to humans.”

“Changing history could harm them,” said Rita. “Though I’m not sure this little isolated voyage is going to change much of anything.”

“I am not certain what I will have to do,” said MC 2. “I cannot forcibly stop two entire crews of humans from fighting each other.”

“If your interpretation of the First Law will allow it, I instruct you to prioritize protecting Roland and me. Will that be acceptable?”

“I believe so,” said MC 2.

All that day, Wayne sat on a keg by the rail of the Old Laughing Lady, watching the two ships sailing in front of it. One was the Hungry Hawk, of course; he couldn’t read the name of its prey, but he was very relieved it was there. He had been gambling when he had told Captain Tomann that Captain Quinn knew of a merchant ship. Now he had been vindicated.

Late in the afternoon, the Hungry Hawk closed in on one side of the merchant ship just as the Old Laughing Lady drew near on the other side. Both ships fired their cannon. Huge splinters of wood flew into the air from the sides of the quarry. Gaping holes through the sails of their prey revealed blue sky beyond them. The merchant ship fired back, but it had few cannons and poor aim; plumes of spray rose where its cannonballs struck the water.

By that time, of course, all three crews were armed and anxious. Captain Tomann was striding up and down the deck shouting threats at the Spaniards, waving his cutlass angrily. Most of his crew had massed on one side. The front line eagerly waited with grappling hooks on ropes as the helmsman steered the ship into position alongside the Cadiz. The rest were armed with boarding pikes, cutlasses, rapiers, and flintlock pistols or muskets.

Wayne stayed where he was as the shouting buccaneers on each pirate ship grappled with the Spanish ship only moments apart. Shouts roared on all sides as the buccaneer crews leaped onto the merchant ship, waving their weapons. The snapping of muskets and pistols threw puffs of smoke into the air. As some men screamed and fell into the water, Wayne gripped the rail, searching the crew of the Hungry Hawk for MC 2.

The Spanish crew, outnumbered and surrounded by buccaneers, did not put up much of a fight. They were quickly disarmed and hustled to one side, under guard. In only moments, however, the two buccaneer crews were facing off, yelling at each other and threatening to fight.

Amidships, Captain Tomann was bellowing at Captain Quinn, slashing at the air with his cutlass. Captain Quinn, holding his own bloody cutlass, was shouting back at him. Their men were not preparing to fight behind them, however; they were too busy looting the ship and getting into individual fights.

Finally, through the confusion aboard the Cadiz, Wayne saw MC 2 on the far side, still on the Hungry Hawk. He was standing protectively near a young buccaneer; they had apparently not left the Hungry Hawk to join the fight at all. Wayne leaped up and ran to the nearest spot along the rail where he could climb across to the Cadiz.

12

WAYNE PICKED HIS way quickly through the debris and knots of arguing, yelling, whooping buccaneers on the Cadiz. As quickly as he could, he dodged a couple of sword fights and one wrestling match to reach the other side. As he drew closer to MC 2 and the buccaneer with him at the rail of the adjoining ship, he reached inside his shirt for the control device that would carry him and anyone within a meter or so back to his own time. He would have to get MC 2 away from the others for just a moment.

“You!” Wayne pointed at MC 2 as he shouted, still running forward toward the rail of the Cadiz. “Come over here! To this ship! Under the Second Law, do what I say!”

“Don’t move!” The buccaneer next to MC 2 grabbed his arm and held him. “Remember your priority.”

Wayne realized from the voice, suddenly, that the buccaneer was a woman. “MC 2, I’m Wayne Nystrom, your creator.” He could see indecision in the robot’s face.

“Roland! Help!” The woman waved her arms frantically, looking behind Wayne.

Just as Wayne whirled around, Roland swung toward him on a rope dangling from the rigging overhead. His booted feet struck Wayne on the chest with a painful thud and threw him backward onto the deck, hard. With the wind knocked out of him, but otherwise not hurt, Wayne lay motionless, gasping for breath. He waited helplessly, half-expecting the buccaneer to finish him off, but instead Roland leaped back aboard the Hungry Hawk.

On the Cadiz, the buccaneers continued to loot and celebrate.

As the little Jamaica Jane whipped across the waves toward the three ships grappled together in the distance, Hunter could hear the sounds of men fighting hand to hand. He sat up straight, magnifying his vision to the maximum. However, he could not see any details that his hearing had not already identified.

“What is it?” Jane also peered at the distant ships, but of course he knew she could see even less. “What’s wrong?”

“The fighting has begun,” said Hunter. “I am worried that MC 2 will interfere with the fight and change the course of history. His presence and perhaps Rita’s could alter the behavior of the buccaneers.”

“We knew a fight was coming,” said Steve. “Weren’t you ready for this?”

“I anticipated it, of course.”

“Listen, Hunter,” said Jane. “Are we proceeding as quickly as possible?”

“Yes. I have the tack and the tiller at the optimum angles for speed under current conditions.” He quickly reappraised the direction of the wind to double-check.

“Then you are doing everything the Laws of Robotics require at the moment. Acknowledge your agreement.”

“Acknowledged.”

“And if you experience indecision or if you shut down, Steve and I will suffer even greater harm. Right?”

“Right.” Somewhat reassured, Hunter turned his attention back to the three ships ahead.

Twilight was falling by the time the Jamaica Jane drew near the three ships. Even Steve could hear the singing and shouting of a drunken celebration. The ships were still grappled together, swaying on the open sea, with their sails furled. None of the buccaneers noticed the small craft as Hunter sailed up to the stern of the Cadiz.

“What do you want to do?” Steve turned to Hunter.

“I must climb up to take a look at the crowd,” said Hunter. “However, I dare not leave you two alone in this little sailboat, so you must come with me.”

Steve looked up at the steep sides of the big ships. “We have to climb up there?”

“Not exactly. I will tie us to the hull of the Cadiz and climb up myself with one of our ropes. Before I go, I will tie a fixed loop in this end to fit around you. Then I will lift you up when I have reached a safe place.”

“Okay,” said Steve.

Hunter tied the boat by the bowline and unfastened the longest rope from the rigging. He tied a fixed loop and gave it to Steve, taking the other end with him as he climbed up the hull of the Spanish ship. Below him, Steve and Jane watched anxiously, as the ship swayed over the waves.

The hull of the Cadiz was damp and slick with slime on the lower levels. Still, Hunter’s precise analysis of the surface and his immensely strong fingers and toes allowed him to make maximum use of whatever slight holds he could find. Patiently, he rose little by little until he reached the windows of the captain’s chamber. All of them were open.

Steve didn’t think that Hunter could move his large body into any of them, but he was wrong. As he watched, he remembered that Hunter had the ability to alter his dimensions if he wanted. Now, Hunter used that ability to narrow his shoulders just enough to ease through one of the open windows.

He worked his way through headfirst, squirming. At last his legs slithered inside. He disappeared for a moment, then leaned his upper body back outside with his end of the rope tied around his torso.

Hunter pointed to Jane. Steve nodded, understanding that Hunter did not want to risk shouting from up there for fear of attracting attention. He helped slide the fixed loop under Jane’s arms.

“It’ll be uncomfortable,” said Steve. “Hang onto the rope with your hands and brace your feet against the hull so you don’t swing against it too hard.”

“Got it,” said Jane.

Steve waved to Hunter, who began pulling her up. He watched, tense, as she swayed above him. The ships were still tossing on the waves, and she began to swing back and forth, though she did keep her feet out in front of her to kick away from the hull when necessary. Her long skirt swirled in the wind. Finally, Hunter had her at the window and he reached out to pull her in safely.

A moment later, Hunter tossed the loop back down to Steve, who fitted it under his arms and waved. Then the rope grew taut and he was lifted off his feet. He, too, kept his feet against the hull so he wouldn’t slam against it with his body, but otherwise he was completely helpless. The wind almost spun him around once, and he didn’t dare look down to see how far above the water he was. He was dizzy and losing his bearings by the time he felt Hunter’s strong hands grasp him under the arms and pull him inside the ship.

“It’s hot in here,” said Steve quietly, dizzily collapsing into a chair.

“That must be why no one is here,” said Hunter. “Everyone is on deck, out in the breeze.” He coiled the rope neatly and laid it down. “I have been listening carefully to the voices. The buccaneers are all up on deck and I think they have had enough rum to cloud their judgment.”

“What about it?” Steve asked.

“The Spanish crew is imprisoned in the hold where the cargo used to be. I am going to find some men’s clothing for Jane. Then we will sneak up on deck and look around. Except for some lamps, it will be dark up there. If we are fortunate, everyone up there will assume we belong to the other ship’s crew.”

Steve nodded, relieved that he would have a moment to get over his dizziness. Jane was clinging to a corner of a table, looking dizzy herself. The captain’s quarters had been looted, leaving clothing, charts, and bedcovers scattered on the floor. Hunter quickly and quietly searched for clothing that would suit Jane. After a few moments, he tossed Jane some knee breeches, a loose, baggy linen shirt, and a vest.

Steve turned his back while Jane changed. When she had finished, Hunter gave her a large, red and white scarf. She tied it over her hair, in the style many of the buccaneers used. The clothing was loose and baggy on her.

“Well?” She looked back and forth between them.

“You’re too pretty to fool anybody,” said Steve. “But it’s dark up there.”

“Well, I’ll hide behind you two.”

“Good,” said Hunter. “I will lead the way. Only whisper after we leave this chamber. And only if necessary.”

Steve nodded and got to his feet.

“This time, Jane goes last,” Hunter added. He opened the door to the darkened passageway and stepped outside.

Steve followed him, glancing back over his shoulder repeatedly to make sure Jane was close behind. Hunter opened an outer door and the three of them moved up a steep staircase to the deck. Drunken buccaneers were singing in groups, or stumbling around laughing and joking; wooden chests had been brought up from below and broken open to reveal gold coin, silver coin, furs, and rolls of tobacco. Many of the pirates were already asleep on deck with their tankards still in their hands.

Hunter stepped up on deck and moved quietly to his right, into an empty corner. Steve followed him and saw that Jane came right behind them. Hunter pointed upward, to some voices he had apparently been tracking.

Now even Steve and Jane could hear two men talking on the level above them. Steve supposed it was another deck. Hunter signaled for silence. All three remained motionless on the creaking, swaying ship.

“You got out here in short order, Tomann,” said one man. “Not that I begrudge your coming. We’ve made a good haul here for every man.”

“Aye, Quinn. And once we agreed on an even split, the men stored most of it on our own ships quick enough. Come morning, they’ll clean up what’s left on deck here.”

“You know,” said Captain Quinn. “One of my men asked a Spaniard why their ship was all alone so near Jamaica.”

“Had to scare the truth out of him, I dare say.”

“Aye, well, the answer has possibilities.”

“Eh?”

“The Cadiz wasn’t alone. She was in a convoy protected by a Spanish warship, but a storm separated them a few days ago.”

“I say! That means some other fat chickens are nearby without a protector, just waiting for the likes of us.”

“But if we go on searching, then we’ll have to decide what to do with the Cadiz,” said Captain Quinn. “We know she should bring a fine price from someone should we take her back to Port Royal with us.”

“Aye.” Captain Tomann sighed. “Better to take home the prize we have first, as we’ve already agreed. A skeleton crew will be enough to take the Cadiz on the short trip home.”

“Well spoken, Tomann. I guess we both know that our buccaneer friends all know each other.”

“Aye, and their loyalty is to hard gold, not to you or me.” Tomann laughed harshly. “So long as we lead them to fat prizes, they’ll let us have the captain’s double share and take our orders grudgingly enough. But take them on one dry voyage, and they’ll slit our throats as fast as any pigeon’s.”

“Well, we’ve kept our heads one more day, Tomann.” Captain Quinn laughed, too, and clanked tankards with his companion. Then their footsteps clunked on the wooden boards as they strolled away.

Steve nudged Hunter. “You sail back on the Hungry Hawk,” he whispered. “Jane and I will join the skeleton crew on the Cadiz. That way, we’ll have someone on two out of the three ships to watch for MC 2.”

“I cannot allow this,” Hunter said firmly. “The increased danger to you is too great.”

“Listen, Hunter,” Jane whispered urgently. “You have to shift your First Law priorities. At this point, the danger of losing MC 2 completely is greater than ever. Steve and I can stick together and help each other. On the Cadiz, all the other crew members will think we came from the other ship.”

“That’s right,” said Steve. “Besides, one of the reasons you hired me is that I’m used to improvising. This is the kind of situation you hired me to handle.”

“We can function most safely as a team,” said Hunter. “That was also my plan.”

“Hunter, listen carefully,” said Jane. “What I mean is, you may have to prioritize your First Law imperatives. Steve and I may have to be sacrificed in order to maintain the future as it should be for everyone else.”

“Allow two humans to come to harm in order to save millions,” Steve added.

“Respond, Hunter,” said Jane.

“That should not be necessary,” said Hunter.

“Look, we aren’t giving up,” said Steve. “We fully expect to rejoin you later. But we agree that the risk of splitting up to find MC 2 is worth it.”

Hunter was silent for a moment, an unusually long time for a robot. Then he nodded. “All right.”

“I want to leave you with one more thought while you’re on your own,” said Jane. “Your independent action is crucial to pursuing this First Law problem about the future. Do not allow instructions from other humans under the Second Law to distract you from your larger task, as you allowed Wayne Nystrom to do on our last mission.”

“Understood,” said Hunter. “Now before we split up, I want to find you two a safe place to sleep for the night on the Cadiz. Then I will move to the Hungry Hawk. If anyone asks why I am on the wrong ship, I will tell them I had too much rum tonight and got mixed up.”

Steve grinned. “You’re playacting better all the time.”

As the night deepened, Wayne remained alone and awake on the Old Laughing Lady. Gradually, the celebration on board the Cadiz wound down and most of the crew of the Old Laughing Lady returned, except for those who would help sail the Cadiz home. He was not sure what to do next. Ordinarily, he would simply pursue MC 2 directly, but he was afraid of Roland.

After some reflection, he had guessed that the woman buccaneer might be Rita, the woman Roland had mentioned as part of Hunter’s team. For now, he decided to bide his time and wait for another opportunity to approach MC 2 alone somehow. He was certainly not going to risk another fight with Roland.

Captain Tomann stumbled back aboard last of all, his cutlass in its scabbard again. Now he carried an empty tankard in one hand, idling knocking it against doorknobs, brass handles, and other items as he passed them. Wayne suddenly realized that he could use a buccaneer ally, someone to counter Roland. He hurried after the pirate captain.

“That’s quite a haul,” he called out.

“Eh? Oh, aye, it is.” Captain Tomann nodded, looking at him sleepily. “Still awake, are you?”

“Yes. I mean, aye. Wide-awake. Shall we visit, Captain? Maybe we can get better acquainted.”

“I’m awake, myself.” Captain Tomann looked into his empty tankard. “Well, then. Come along to my quarters. I have a private cupboard of rum for just such an emergency.”

Steve and Jane huddled out of the wind on the deck of the Cadiz. Hunter had already moved to the Hungry Hawk, telling them that he would scuttle the Jamaica Jane before daylight so no one on board the larger ships would see it.

“We’re on a real adventure now,” said Steve. “Alone together on a ship full of pirates.”

“You don’t need to remind me,” Jane muttered.

“Hey, what’s wrong? I thought you agreed this was a good idea.”

“It is. But I’m not used to being away from robots and their dedication to the First Law. I work in an office and a lab, in a society where robots are common and none of them can allow harm to humans if they can prevent it.”

“I know I can’t fight like Hunter could,” said Steve. “But I think we can avoid a fight. These pirates will just want to go home with their loot now, I think.”

“Yeah.” Jane nodded. “I guess you’re right.”

They slept out on the open deck with most of the buccaneers, under the peaceful Caribbean sky.

13

THE NEXT MORNING, Steve and Jane awoke as the buccaneers on board threw off all the grappling hooks and set sail on all three ships for Port Royal. Since the weather was clear with a stiff breeze, the work was simple. Steve looked for tasks that were obvious, where he could help others without revealing his ignorance of sailing. He joined another buccaneer rolling a fresh keg of drinking water across the deck and pried open a crate of salted fish. Jane stayed with him and tossed hard biscuits to hungry buccaneers.

Once the ships were under sail, breakfast on the Cadiz also included some kind of gruel from a large pot. Steve and Jane learned as they ate that the ship was now captained by a buccaneer named Jacques Duveau. The eastern coast of Jamaica came into sight by midday, though of course they would have to sail around the southeastern corner of the island to reach Port Royal on the southern coast.

Steve and Jane moved toward the bow, away from the others, when they could. They didn’t want any of the buccaneers getting a good look at Jane in their free moments. So far, however, all had gone well except that they had seen no sign of MC 2, Rita, or Roland on board.

“We gambled wrong,” Steve said finally. “Rita, Roland, and MC 2 are on one of the other ships.”

“Maybe Hunter lucked out,” said Jane. “I don’t doubt that he can find them, but I wonder what he’ll do. I don’t think he’ll take MC 2 back home without us.”

“Good.”

“But as a robot, he can’t use the Second Law to order MC 2 to cooperate. I don’t know if he’ll be able to hold onto him forcibly or not.”

“At least if he gets MC 2 into custody, that will be a start. We can all join up in Port Royal.”

“Yes, that shouldn’t be long. I hope indecision doesn’t hit him too hard. If he’s paralyzed by indecision because he feels he isn’t following the Laws of Robotics, we’ll have a bigger problem than ever.”

“He seemed okay last night, didn’t he?”

“I think so, or I wouldn’t have agreed to split up.” Jane shrugged. “But he still has doubts about his competence. I hope he’ll be okay without me to help him interpret the Laws in a constructive way.”

“Ahoy! Ship ahoy!”

Steve looked up. The man in the crow’s nest, up on the highest mast, was waving and shouting to the crew below. Everyone on the ship looked up at him.

Captain Jacques Duveau, a tall, lanky man with a black beard, looked out to sea, then yelled back up to the lookout. “What flag?”

“No flag. Can’t see the make of her yet.”

Steve could see that everyone was excited and curious, wanting to know what nationality and type of ship they had found. He suspected they would flee from a Spanish warship, which would have them outgunned. So far, he couldn’t see the other ship at all.

For some time, the crew waited anxiously to learn what ship lay ahead. Finally, the lookout turned to call again. “Spanish, by the look of her! Another merchant, Captain, and riding low in the water!”

Cheers rose up from the crew. Captain Duveau jumped up on a rolled sail lying on the deck. Steve grinned, anticipating what he would say.

“All right, men! What say you? Shall we pluck this fat bird or not?”

Another roar of cheers sounded. The crew raced around, preparing for another attack when they drew close enough. In a moment, Captain Duveau had raised the captured Spanish flag. They wanted to lull their prey into believing the original Spanish crew was still in control.

“It must be another ship from the same convoy as the Cadiz,” Steve said quietly, leaning on the rail. “I guess it was blown off course here in the storm that separated all the ships in that convoy.”

“Can they take it? With only a skeleton crew on board?” Jane stood next to him, the breeze tossing her hair.

“Sure. With the Spanish flag flying, they can probably come right up alongside.”

“We’d be better off just getting back to Port Royal,” Jane said doubtfully.

At the same time, Hunter was on board the Hungry Hawk. Early that morning, he had finally seen MC 2, Rita, and Roland. He had also realized that the First Law would not allow him to return Rita and MC 2 home and leave Steve and Jane on board the Cadiz. If Rita saw him, however, she might flee again and take MC 2 with her.

For the first time, Hunter had ‘used his ability to alter his appearance. Since he had only the clothes he was already wearing, he did not significantly change his height or his build. However, he altered the blond, blue-eyed, square-jawed appearance he had been given at manufacture. Now he assumed brown hair, a deeply tanned look as though he had spent years in the Caribbean, and a short, brown beard. Most important, he narrowed and lengthened his face.

Since making that change, Hunter had spent all day moving among the crew, sharing in breakfast and helping with the rigging when he saw a need. He stayed relatively close to Rita and MC 2 when he could, always appearing to ignore them while eavesdropping with his enhanced robotic hearing. For the moment, he only planned to remain nearby and look for an opportunity to make a move.

The Hungry Hawk was just a short distance behind the Cadiz. When the lookout on the Cadiz reported another target, Hunter was the only one aboard the Hungry Hawk who could hear him. Within moments, however, the lookout on the Hungry Hawk made the same report. Captain Quinn and his crew enthusiastically chose to join the attack on the new Spanish ship.

Hunter understood immediately that he would have to find a way to witness the fight without interfering. Finally he decided to stay close to MC 2 and Rita. He could make protecting them a priority and leave the buccaneers to do whatever they must.

Rita watched with rising excitement as the sea chase continued. MC 2 stood on one side of her. Roland joined them, smiling broadly.

“Ah, sweet lady. We shall have easy picking this day. Do you see what is happening?”

“Well, we’re chasing another ship,” said Rita. “Is that what you mean?”

“Nothing so simple. You see, as the Cadiz sails toward her sister ship, the one in front assumes we two buccaneers are still chasing the Cadiz. At first, the new ship just wanted to flee. But now, as we draw closer, it appears that the Cadiz cannot possibly escape.”

“What does that mean?”

“If you look closely, you can see that they have altered their tack.”

“What for?”

“I believe they have some misguided notion about helping. Even these Spanish merchants mount a few cannon on board. Most of them don’t have the courage of that captain, though — or his recklessness.”

“He doesn’t realize that three buccaneer ships are after him, then.”

“No, he doesn’t.” Roland grinned and gave her a wink. “Not yet.”

Still at the rail, Steve and Jane watched anxiously as the Cadiz finally drew close to the Sidonia, the Spanish ship just ahead. The buccaneers were still flying the Spanish flag. Many of them were hiding up in the rigging, while others lay flat on deck, all trying to stay out of sight.

The Hungry Hawk and the Old Laughing Lady were both bearing down hard, as well. Always faster than the merchant ships, they had caught up during the course of the day. The buccaneers had already taken their places, holding their weapons ready for the attack.

Steve took a couple of belaying pins from their holes in the rail. Thick and heavy, they were not holding ropes at the moment. He handed one to Jane.

“We should stay right here,” he said. “If anyone gives you trouble, hit him with that. And don’t be shy about it. These guys are tough.”

“All right,” said Jane, looking at it doubtfully. “I never had one of these in my office job. I wanted one occasionally, but I never had one.” She smiled weakly.

“If we’re lucky, in the confusion nobody will notice that we aren’t really participating.”

The Cadiz had drawn close to the Sidonia. At the same time, the Sidonia was coming about to fire its few cannon broadside at the two ships to the rear. Suddenly Captain Duveau pointed to the man at his helm.

“Bring us around!” Captain Duveau shouted. “Fire at will!”

The buccaneer at the helm spun the wheel and held it hard. The Cadiz changed direction to match the tack of the Sidonia and slowly came up alongside it. As the first cannons came into position, the individual crews began to fire.

Cries of shock and alarm rose from the Sidonia, as its crew suddenly realized that they had been fooled. Before their ship could change direction, however, the buccaneers were flinging grappling hooks over the side of their ship. When the hooks had caught, the buccaneers on deck threw gangplanks forward between the ships and began to run across them. At the same time, the buccaneers hiding in the rigging began to swing across to the other ship on ropes.

Steve crouched, putting a hand on Jane’s shoulder to bring her down too. The rail protected them on one side and a couple of barrels were in front of them. On the far side of the Sidonia, the Hungry Hawk was coming into position to grapple it. The Old Laughing Lady was coming up last, toward the Sidonia’s stern.

Steve and Jane remained where they were. The crew of the Sidonia were outnumbered, of course, but they had fight in them. This was not going to be over quickly.

Suddenly a tall, brawny, laughing buccaneer now on the Sidonia leaped up on the gangplank near Steve and Jane.

“Ahoy! Stop your cowerin’ there, you two! Come out and fight with the rest of us!” He laughed and whacked Jane on the back of her head with the flat of his cutlass.

“Hey!” Steve stood up, holding his belaying pin ready for a fight.

“I’m on your side, remember?” The big buccaneer laughed. “Come and join old Ned, now. Come on!” He stood over them, clearly not intending to go without them.

“All right.” Steve climbed up on the gangplank with him. “Let’s go.”

“You, too,” said Ned, grinning down at Jane. “Hurry it up there!”

Jane got up on the gangplank behind Steve. He hurried across and jumped down to the deck, then turned to wait for Jane. She hopped down next to him, still holding her belaying pin, and shrugged.

“Go get ’em!” Ned leaped down to the deck with a thump and ran toward a couple of brawling sailors and buccaneers. He had apparently lost interest in Steve and Jane.

Steve glanced around. “Let’s just stay here as long as we can. It should be over soon.”

“It’s okay with me,” said Jane.

With growing anxiety, Hunter had been watching the coming fight from the deck of the Hungry Hawk. He was successfully resisting his First Law imperative to stop the entire attack. His enhanced vision and hearing gave him a comprehensive picture of events on all sides.

Suddenly Hunter heard Steve’s voice in the crowd. He quickly tracked his location and saw a large buccaneer herding Steve and Jane over the gangplank to the Sidonia. Instantly, the First Law took over his thinking.

Hunter glanced upward for the fastest route not only to the Sidonia, but to its far side. He spotted a long rope that was not in current use; it was fastened high on one mast. Then he picked out a climbing sequence to reach it. Almost as fast as he saw where to go, he began to shinny up a mast.

As the buccaneers shouted and fired their flintlocks on board the Sidonia, Hunter reached a spot on the mast about nine meters above the deck. Then he reached up to grasp a hanging net. On it, he climbed another seven meters to where he could grab the dangling end of the long rope.

He tied the rope loosely to one wrist to keep his hands free and moved up to a yardarm. There, at last, he checked the knot on the high end of the rope. It was tight and would hold his weight.

Next, Hunter untied the loose end from his wrist. All the ships were far below him on the tossing sea. He took a careful look at the rigging of the Sidonia, to pick his destination. Then, taking a firm hold on the rope, he jumped, swinging hard.

Using his robotic calculations of the physics involved, he released the rope at the top of his swing. He sailed through the air high above the decks but quickly grabbed a rope on the Sidonia. Once his hold was secure, he quickly climbed hand under hand down the rope to the deck.

Hunter found himself in the middle of a wild melee, fought with pistols, belaying pins, boarding pikes, and swords. He looked around quickly and found Steve and Jane standing in a corner, avoiding the worst of the action. Even as he saw them, however, a determined Spanish sailor snatched up a fallen cutlass and swung it at Steve.

Grimacing, Steve blocked it with a belaying pin, and the blade glanced off the scarred, hard wood. He had a determined but desperate look on his face. The sailor advanced on him again.

Hunter frantically worked his way through the crowd toward them.

A Spanish sailor jumped in front of him, brandishing a rapier. Hunter, bare-handed, waited for him to make the first move. As soon as the sailor began a feint, Hunter judged his motion and anticipated the sailor’s complete motion and weight shift.

Too fast for a human to match, Hunter leaned slightly to his right and grabbed the man’s wrist in one firm hand. With his other hand, he took hold of the sword by its hilt and flung it away to clatter on deck. Then he pushed the sailor down flat on his back and hurried past him.

Instantly, another Spanish sailor leaped on him, grabbing his shoulders. The human was much smaller than Hunter, but his angle and momentum pulled Hunter around. Hunter regained his balance, shoving the man away. When the man swung a fist at his head, he only ducked, then lifted the sailor under his arms and tossed him onto a rolled sail lying on the deck.

Ahead of Hunter in the crowd, Steve now held his belaying pin in both hands. He swung it wildly, each time blocking a sword stroke from the Spanish sailor’s cutlass. The impact of each blow forced him back another step; chunks of wood had been chopped out of his dwindling weapon. Jane was shuffling behind him uncertainly, also holding a belaying pin but not sure what to do.

Hunter had to stop abruptly. Two men, wrestling with each other, fell to the deck in front of him and rolled. He stepped over them and ran toward Steve and Jane. As the sailor swung his cutlass back and forth at Steve, Hunter judged the arc of his swing, intending to wrench the cutlass from his hand as soon as it came within reach.

Suddenly Jane stepped out from behind Steve. While Hunter was concentrating his attention on the sailor fighting Steve, Jane raised her belaying pin. She swung high, clubbing Hunter over the head hard enough to snap the wooden belaying pin in half with a loud crack.

14

HUNTER WAS NOT physically damaged, but the shock profoundly upset him. Confused, he dared not fight any more for fear of making a serious error. He collapsed into a sitting position on deck, staring at Jane, mystified.

Even on the original mission to find MC 1, back in the age of dinosaurs, Hunter had suffered from various doubts about his ability to follow the First Law successfully. After being hit, he worried that these doubts had impaired his judgment. Burdened by additional doubts, he slowed down all his processes and lay back on the deck, motionless. He was certain that he must have done something seriously wrong for Jane to have struck him over the head like that.

Steve was frantically blocking the sword blows of the sailor in front of him with his belaying pin. To one side, he had seen a tall, bearded buccaneer run up and reach forward. The stranger was huge, and Steve had hoped for a moment that Hunter would show up at the last second to stop him. Instead, Jane had stepped out from behind Steve and clobbered the big buccaneer.

The sailor who was fighting Steve had been distracted for just a moment. Steve swung his belaying pin down on the sailor’s head with a clunk. The sailor collapsed onto the deck.

“Traitor! Traitor!” A man’s voice shouted at them from the crowd.

Steve looked around. It was Ned, the buccaneer who had chased them from the Cadiz across to the Sidonia a few minutes ago. He was almost as tall as the stranger Jane had just clubbed, though not as brawny.

In an instant, Steve understood. Ned had seen the two of them hanging back from the fight, and now he had seen Jane hit one of the buccaneers from behind. He had concluded that they were perpetrating some sort of betrayal, probably to take more than their share of loot.

“Oh, no,” said Jane, looking down at her fallen opponent. “He’s dressed like a pirate, isn’t he? I thought he was charging at us.”

“Look out!” Steve saw that Ned was running toward them angrily. He stooped down to pick up the cutlass the Spanish sailor had dropped.

Ned swung his cutlass at Jane’s head. She ducked under it and Steve slashed at Ned with his cutlass. Ned blocked it easily and Steve was forced backward by the force of the collision.

“Jane, run!” Steve yelled. Out of the comer of his eye, he saw her slip away. At the same time, he was still blocking Ned’s sword strokes, slowly backing away.

Steve was scared, and felt trapped; he couldn’t possibly win a sword fight with an experienced buccaneer, especially one with a big advantage in height and reach. Still, he also felt exhilarated. He could hardly believe he was fighting a real pirate on a Spanish ship in the Caribbean.

Steve was inexorably driven back against the rail. Ned swung with hard, regular sword strokes, glaring at Steve angrily. Steve knew he couldn’t fight his way out of the confined space. Finally, desperate, he jumped up on the rail itself.

“Ha!” Ned laughed and moved forward.

Steve threw his sword at Ned, turned, and jumped feet first into the sea far below.

The blue waves came up fast, and he hit the water hard, plunging deep below the surface. He kicked and stroked to break his descent and finally began to swim upward. It seemed like a longer way up than he had expected, and he held his breath desperately. Finally, he broke through the surface of the salt water, gasping.

“Steve!” Jane was shouting and waving anxiously. She stood at the rail far above him, but well away from the place where he had left Ned.

From his present position, Steve could only see the steep side of the hull, the rail, and the rigging stretching high above the deck. Jane was the only person close enough to the rail for him to see. He waved to reassure her, but he realized that he had no way to get back on board.

Then, as he watched, Jane ran to a hanging dinghy swaying horizontally over the edge of the ship. It was suspended from wooden arms by rope. She fumbled with a knotted rope for a moment, then jumped back as the rope came free. The heavy dinghy fell all the way to the water with a tremendous splash.

Steve struck out for the boat, swimming clumsily in his clothes, but he kept his head above water $0 that he could see. Ahead of him, Jane took a deep breath and jumped feet-first into the water near the boat. When she surfaced, she swam to the boat and pulled herself up and over the edge.

As Steve neared the boat, Jane extended an oar for him to grab. He took it with relief, finding that he was exhausted from the effort of fighting and swimming. After pulling himself hand over hand along the oar, he grabbed the edge of the boat and rolled over the edge to fall inside.

“You okay?” Jane took his hand and helped pull him up into a sitting position.

“Yeah.” Steve looked up toward the deck of the ship. He couldn’t see much from the dinghy, but the sounds of the fight were continuing. “Anybody notice?”

“If they did, they didn’t care. Besides, as soon as we went over the rail, we were out of sight.” She looked at him. “Now what?”

“Well …” Steve pointed to the green coast of Jamaica. “I think we’d better row for shore. It’s not too far. And I think the current will help us.”

“Okay.”

They sat next to each other on the center bench, each taking an oar. At first they had trouble coordinating their strokes, and the dinghy banged against the side of the ship several times. Finally they got into a steady rhythm and slowly began to move toward the shore.

Rita stayed with MC 2 at the rail of the Hungry Hawk as it approached the Sidonia from the side opposite the Cadiz. Roland had joined the buccaneer attack while Rita and MC 2 watched from safety. MC 2, however, was becoming more agitated as he watched.

“Don’t interfere,” said Rita. “These buccaneers belong to this time. Take care of me, and of Roland if you can.”

“You are safe here,” said MC 2.

Rita strained to follow Roland’s movements as he darted about on the Sidonia. Sails, masts, and the crowd of fighting men all obscured her vision. MC 2 watched intently, however, with his robotic concentration. Suddenly he jumped on the rail and ran across the gangplank.

“Hey, wait! MC 2! Stop!” Rita shouted in surprise. When the robot ignored her instructions, she realized that the First Law was requiring MC 2 to act. She watched him as long as she could, but soon he, too, was lost in the crowd on board the other ship.

Even on the sidelines, Rita was thrilled. Nothing could match seeing the history she had studied for so long being made right in front of her. The clanging of the swords and occasional bang of flintlock pistols scared her a little, but she reminded herself that this was the buccaneer life-style.

Wayne was standing by the helm of the Old Laughing Lady with Captain Tomann, watching the other two ships attack their prey up ahead. They were drawing very close now. The previous night, Wayne had begun to make friends with the short-tempered buccaneer captain. He had not yet sought his help. First he had wanted to establish some rapport.

He had also known that he would have to tell Captain Tomann some kind of phony story. Thinking of one had taken a little time. Now, however, he decided the time to approach the captain had arrived.

“Captain,” said Wayne. “I have another business proposition for you.”

“Eh? Now? What would that be?”

“It appears to me that we are arriving a little late this time. That is, we might not get a full share of the booty. Don’t you agree?”

Captain Tomann glowered, resting one hand on his sword hilt. “If we board before the fighting ends, we’ll take our share in any way we must.”

“Of course. But, uh …” Wayne glanced around suspiciously and motioned for the captain to step away from the man at the helm. “Maybe you and I can make a special profit from all this, if you’re willing.”

“Well, now. What’s all this, then?”

“A short, slender man is on board the Hungry Hawk. I want him.”

“To kill him?”

“No, no. As my prisoner.”

“What’s in it for me, then?”

“Ransom,” said Wayne.

“Ransom?” Captain Tomann looked at him sharply, truly interested for the first time.

“You and I can split it evenly. No need to inform anyone else, though, is there?”

“Who is he?”

“His name is MC 2, but don’t say it aloud. Someone else might overhear and figure out who he is.”

“Goes by his initials, eh? So that’s his name — but who is he, that someone’s going to pay ransom to get him back?”

“The younger son of a colonial, up on the mainland.”

“A rich man’s son, is he? Who’s his father?”

“No, no. If I tell you everything, then you don’t need me anymore.”

Captain Tomann grinned at him, showing broken teeth. “Aye, you’re a sharper fellow than you look. Well, then, how much ransom can we get for this fellow?”

Wayne thought quickly. He decided to err on the side of generosity. “What would you say to one full chest of gold coin?”

“I would say, two are better.”

“We’ll get it.”

“Ah! So what’s the proposition, exactly?”

“You help me snatch him and hold him. In the meantime, I’ll arrange the ransom.”

“I think you need me more than I need you. I’ll take more than half the share.”

“Well …” Wayne shrugged.

“I can find out who his father is when I get my hands on him. But without me, you have no way to catch him and no place to keep him.”

“That’s right,” said Wayne.

Captain Tomann, who had expected an argument, blinked at him in surprise. “You agree?”

“Sure. You take two shares to my one, whatever the ransom turns out to be.”

“Why?” Captain Tomann scowled and leaned his wild-eyed face close to Wayne’s. “Why would you give up so much of the ransom so easy?”

“Call it a … grudge,” Wayne said quickly.

“Eh?” Captain Tomann cocked his head and grinned slowly. “A grudge, you say.”

“That’s right,” said Wayne, seeing that his companion accepted the explanation. “A personal matter.”

“Aye, a personal matter. Now, that I can understand. All right, mate. We have a bargain, then.” He pounded Wayne on the back.

“And like I said before, there’s no need to tell anyone else, right?”

“Right you are, mate. It wouldn’t do for my crew to know I was getting more than my normal captain’s share. Now let’s find this fellow. We’re almost in position.” He turned and waved toward the man at the helm. “Hard to port, there! Hard to port!”

The buccaneer at the helm suddenly turned the wheel. He strained to hold it in position. Slowly, the ship began to turn.

The prow of the Old Laughing Lady came up closely on the three grappled ships. Some buccaneers were ready with grappling hooks. Others were hanging in the ropes above them with their weapons. The ship angled carefully toward the free side of the Hungry Hawk, opposite where it was grappled to the Sidonia. When the old Laughing Lady came alongside, the buccaneers grappled the Hungry Hawk.

“Come on, then!” Captain Tomann punched Wayne in the arm and strode forward.

Wayne followed carefully. He was concerned about getting into the fight, but was a little more confident now that he had an ally in the fierce buccaneer captain. Besides, this might be his best chance just to grab MC 2 and go home with him.

Ahead, the buccaneers in the rigging swung for ward on ropes to the Sidonia; the others hoisted gangplanks and ran across them.

The Hungry Hawk was nearly empty, since its crew was fighting on the Sidonia. The buccaneers from the Old Laughing Lady made their way across it quickly, anxious to earn their shares of the loot by joining in the taking of the Sidonia. Captain Tomann ran across the gangplank, his cutlass in one hand and his pistol in the other. He jumped down to the deck, looking around.

Wayne climbed up carefully on the gangplank, which shifted back and forth as the two ships under it swayed on the waves. He nearly lost his balance and pitched into the narrow space between the ships. Finally, his heart pounding, he ran across after Captain Tomann and caught up with him.

Captain Tomann pointed to a lone figure with his cutlass. “Who’s that little fellow, standing by the rail?”

Wayne recognized Rita and shook his head. “That’s not him, but it’s a friend of his.”

“A friend?”

“A friend who can help us,” said Wayne. He decided that MC 2 must have been forced by the First Law to interfere with the fighting. “Well, come on!”

Wayne followed him, worried that Captain Tomann might hurt her. The buccaneer captain ran up behind Rita and grabbed her arm. She jumped and tried to pull away.

“I say, mate!” Captain Tomann still held her, but straightened in surprise as he looked at her carefully. “She’s no buccaneer. It’s a woman. You know that?”

“Easy,” said Wayne to Captain Tomann. “Let’s get her back to the ship. I can talk to her there.”

“So be it, then.”

“I’m Wayne Nystrom. Your name is Rita.”

“That’s right.”

“We need to talk.”

She just looked at him, warily.

“Come on.”

Wayne and Captain Tomann each took one of her arms and led her back to the Old Laughing Lady. She said nothing, but did not seem particularly scared. Wayne wondered why she was being so cooperative.

Steve strained against the oar in the dinghy. N ext to him on the middle bench, Jane was also working hard. As they rowed for the coast of Jamaica, they were facing away from the ships. Swaying on the gentle waves, each ship sent its masts angling high against the blue sky. At such a great distance, the few buccaneers Steve could see on deck were mere specks. None of them had taken any notice of the dinghy.

“It’s just as well we’re getting away,” said Steve, breathlessly.

“What do you mean?”

“We told Hunter we could take care of ourselves with the pirates, but we didn’t really do too well. Since we don’t know where either one of the robots is, we don’t have their protection any more. We’ll be safer on dry land again than in the middle of a bunch of pirates during a fight.”

“I think we handled ourselves just fine for a couple of people from our time.”

“Well, I guess.” Steve shrugged. After that, they used their energy only for rowing. Jamaica wasn’t too far, but their progress was slow.

15

EVERY SO OFTEN, Steve glanced over his shoulder to make sure they were heading in the right direction. Finally, after a long time, he realized that they didn’t have to keep rowing to reach the shore. He let out a deep breath of relief and shipped his oar.

“We can take a break.”

“What? We can?” Gratefully, Jane shipped hers, “too. “Are we there?” She turned around to look.

“Not yet,” said Steve. “But the current and the tide have taken us. We couldn’t row our way back out now if we wanted to. So we might as well take it easy.”

“I know people must have seen us go overboard, but I guess nobody saw us rowaway.”

“No one who cared, anyway,” said Steve. He looked back at the big ships. The first two pirate ships were still grappled to their prey. However, the Old Laughing Lady had pushed off again and was under sail, leaving the other ships behind. On its present course, it would pass them some distance away on its trip back to Port Royal.

He turned around on the bench, to face forward toward Jamaica.

“What’s our next plan of action?” She turned on the bench also, bumping him with one shoulder.

“It looks like we’ll have quite a hike back into Port Royal, so that’s going to take up the rest of the day, I think.” Steve looked down the coastline as far as he could.

“Are we going to land near the spot where we first c appeared, do you think? Along the Cagway?”

“I’m afraid we’ll have a much longer walk than that. We’re going to land outside the Cagway, which means we’ll have to walk the entire length of the peninsula. Or maybe we can get a ride on a farmer’s cart or something.” He looked up at the sun in the west.

“What’s wrong?”

“I doubt we have enough daylight left to reach Port Royal.”

“We might have to camp out on the way.”

Jane glanced at him. “Camp out? Just … out in the woods?”

“I don’t know if we’ll have any choice.”

She was silent for a moment. “Well, it’ll be warm enough. But I guess we should contact Hunter with the transmitters at some point. Since his receiver is internal, it won’t matter if buccaneers are with him; they can’t hear it.”

“Yeah!” Steve grinned. “I forgot about those in all the excitement. But let’s wait until we land, so he can home in on a fixed location.”

“He won’t have a way to reach us here, unless he steals a boat or swims.”

“He won’t have to,” said Steve. “We’ll arrange to meet him on the docks.”

“Sounds good to me.”

They relaxed a little and let the water carry them in toward the shore. Steve finally felt a release of tension. They were about to land safely.

“You know,” Steve said. “I feel pretty good, really. I actually survived a sword fight with a real pirate, even if I did have to jump overboard to get away.” He laughed. “Not exactly a success, but I’m still here.”

“I’d say it was a success,” said Jane, smiling at him. “Thank you for stepping up and facing him. I … never went through anything like that before.”

“You’re very welcome. And thank you for dropping this boat down to rescue me.”

“And you’re welcome in return.”

Steve grinned at her. He wanted to put his arm around her, but he didn’t know if that was a good idea or not. After surviving the attack on shipboard, he felt closer to her than ever. Still, he wasn’t sure how she would take such an action, and they had to work together for a long time yet. Instead, he just looked ahead to the shore, which was growing closer all the time.

Finally the dinghy ran aground in shallow water. Steve and Jane jumped out into the surf, throwing spray on themselves, and pulled on the bowline. Steve’s feet sank into soft sand and he struggled for traction. The dinghy, freed of their weight, came farther forward. Their clothes, which had finally dried out in the sunlight, became drenched all over again. Then the dinghy got stuck once more.

They waded out of the water, up onto an empty beach. For a moment, neither of them spoke while they caught their breath. By then the sun was low over the water in the west. The breeze was cooler than before.

Steve reached for his communicator. He didn’t feel it. Worried, he looked down where it should have been.

“What’s wrong?” Jane asked.

“My communicator’s gone. It must have come off when I hit the water.”

“Uh-oh.” Jane checked for hers quickly, then looked up at him. “Mine’s gone, too.”

“That must be it, then,” said Steve. “It’s a long jump from the deck of that ship. We hit the water hard.”

“Hunter won’t have any idea where we are,” said Jane.

“He may have seen us in the boat,” said Steve. “Otherwise, all we can do is get back to Port Royal and head for the docks. He’ll probably get there first.”

“Yeah.” Jane nodded. “Shall we go? We have a long walk ahead.”

Hunter lay motionless on the deck of the Sidonia. Around him, the fighting had finally stopped as the Spanish crew surrendered. Then the combined crews of all three ships examined their new booty. As night fell, they lit torches and celebrated again. Hunter, concerned that any further action he might take would violate the Laws of Robotics in ways he did not comprehend, did not move, though all of his senses were still operating.

Around him, the buccaneers drank more rum, whooped and fired pistols into the air, and staggered around the deck singing.

“Hey, mate,” said a drunken buccaneer. He leaned over Hunter, his head and shoulders a dark shadow against the stars in the clear sky above them. “You hurt bad, are ya?”

“No,” said Hunter.

“Well, here.”

Hunter felt the buccaneer and a couple of his companions lift him under his arms and pull him up into a sitting position against a rolled sail. Then, hoisting tankards of rum, they wandered away. Hunter remained where he was, gazing across the deck to the dark, open sea beyond it.

The three ships were ungrappled again and under sail for Port Royal. The night weather was so good that little work was required. Hunter could see the torches burning on the decks of the other ships in the distance. All three buccaneer crews were celebrating their excellent fortune; even the man at the helm of the Sidonia had a tankard in one hand.

Even in his uncertainty, Hunter was still alert for MC 2 or Rita on board the ship. As usual in the dark, he was using voiceprint, heartbeat, footsteps, and even breathing patterns to identify the humans within in his hearing. These supplemented his infrared vision, which was only useful for detecting people in his line of sight.

Hunter was burdened by a new contradiction, but this time it was self-induced. He felt certain that he had to have made some sort of error that had caused Jane to hit him. It had to be an error of a magnitude he estimated to be very unlikely in a positronic robot, especially a robot of his new and highly specialized design. Until he solved that puzzle, he was afraid to take any action for fear of compounding the error.

He was certain that the error had resulted from the stress he had already felt concerning his efficiency in obeying the First Law. Such stress had always been known to affect robots adversely; it was a side effect of the ultimate priority of the First Law. Figuring out what his error had been was now a prerequisite to normal action; without his identifying and correcting it, the First Law would not let him risk harm to humans by taking any chance of repeating it.

On the other hand, the fact that he had made an important error at all told him that his thinking was faulty. So he really did not know if he was capable of figuring out what his error was. That contradiction kept him sitting right where the buccaneers had left him.

Other buccaneers staggered past from time to time, taking a look at him. Since he was not visibly injured, they left him alone. Hunter heard one of them comment that he was obviously drunk, and deservedly so.

As Hunter remained almost in a stunned state on the deck, he was also uncertain as to what he should do next even if he could summon the will to do anything. He wanted to get his group in one place again; at the very least, the First Law would be easier to obey if all the humans on his team were with him. However, he was not sure if he was worthy of continuing his mission. The First Law might require that he simply return with the team, leaving MC 2 behind, and advise the Oversight Committee to find a replacement for Hunter.

Hunter recounted his various failures to himself. The first had been allowing Dr. Nystrom to escape his custody during the first mission. Wayne had eluded them in the Late Cretaceous Period and also at the Bohung Institute afterward. Then he had hired Rita, whose priorities were clearly not directed toward fulfilling her duties on this mission. Then, of course, he had failed to save Steve and Jane in their fight on deck. All along the way, any number of small historical changes had taken place. Some of them might lead to significant changes that would alter the future, as chaos theory suggested.

At last the buccaneers wanted to sleep, and anchored their ships for the night. Most of the buccaneers found places to sleep on deck. Hunter could hear the distant creaking of the other two ships as they, too, sailed down the east coast of Jamaica and rounded the southern corner of the island toward Port Royal.

The Old Laughing Lady had an early start on the other ships as it sailed for home. At first, Captain Tomann had insisted on interrogating Rita right away about the individual Wayne wanted to take hostage. He and Wayne took her down to a chamber that had been inhabited by a ship’s officer before the buccaneers had taken the ship. As Captain Tomann shouted, blustered, and waved his cutlass around the confined space, she had winced but never spoken.

Finally Wayne drew the captain aside. “I think she’s too scared to speak,” he said quietly.

“She’d better be scared!” Captain Tomann bellowed, starting after her.

Wayne moved to stay in front of him. “Let me have a moment alone with her.”

“Alone! So you can learn what you need and hold out on me? Is that it?”

“No! No, I still need you.”

“Eh?”

“I will need your ship and your, uh, friendship to hold her here.” Wayne lowered his voice. “She is afraid of your reputation as a pirate captain and the English scourge of the Spanish Main. Too frightened to speak.”

“Is she, now?” Captain Tomann glared at her over Wayne’s shoulder.

“Give me just a moment with her.”

“Do as you will, then,” muttered Captain Tomann. “Do not keep me waiting long.” He stomped out and slammed the door.

Wayne turned to Rita, letting out a deep breath of relief. “You know who I am, I think,” he said bluntly.

“What do you want?” Rita spoke carefully, not exactly answering his question.

“You know that, too. I want MC 2.”

“Who?”

“Stop it,” he ordered impatiently. “You’re wasting your time. I know you came here with Hunter. If you want to leave this ship, you’ll have to help me.”

“All right,” she said calmly, looking back at him. She did not look scared, despite what he had told Captain Tomann, but she was certainly wary.

“I don’t care about you,” Wayne said. “I don’t want to hurt you or interfere with your trip home, either. But I’ve had to join up with Captain Tomann, and he’s a little … well, he’s a pirate. As you can see for yourself.”

Her face tensed slightly. “What do you expect me to do?”

“You have a rapport with MC 2,” said Wayne. “That means you can get close to him and then, under the Second Law, you can order him to obey me.”

“Why are you so anxious to get MC 2 yourself?” She folded her arms.

“That’s my business.”

“If we all worked together, we could probably get him much faster. Then everyone could work together back home. What would be wrong with that?”

“Ha! I’ll never get a fair shake from the Oversight Committee. Working with you and Hunter will ruin me.” His eyes narrowed. “Besides, I don’t see you exactly working with Hunter. What were you doing off by yourself like that?” He grinned, knowing that she was still unaware that he had hired Roland to distract her or she would have mentioned it by now.

Rita ignored his question. “What about all the changes we may be causing here, in this time? Hunter believes in the chaos theory as applied to time, which means that any small changes can set big changes in motion.”

“I don’t agree with him. Any changes we cause are minor and will be absorbed by the larger forces of history.”

She suppressed a smile. “I agree with you.”

“MC 2 was with you. Did he join the fighting on the Sidonia?”

Rita hesitated. “It won’t matter. Everyone is sailing back to Port Royal, anyway.”

“I guess that’s true. But I still want to know which ship he was on when you saw him last.”

“Yes, he joined the fight on the Sidonia. I suppose the First Law took over.”

“That’s what I figured.” Wayne studied her quietly for a moment.

“Well?”

He shrugged, then nodded toward the bed. “All right. You might as well get some sleep tonight.”

“What are you going to do with me?”

“For now, Captain Tomann will keep you here. When we reach Port Royal, I’ll go look for Hunter; I know he’s looking for me, too. Maybe we’ll make a deal.”

“A deal?”

“I’ll trade you for MC 2 and Hunter’s promise not to interfere with me.” Wayne moved to the door and then turned with a smile. “I believe that the First Law will force Hunter to place your welfare ahead of MC 2’s. Now, after I leave, I’ll have to bolt the door from the outside. You bolt it from the inside, too. You wouldn’t want a drunken Captain Tomann coming for a visit.”

Steve watched the sun go down in the west over the island as he and Jane walked through the thick Jamaican forest. The sweet aroma of flowers filled the air. They found themselves hiking by moonlight through the trees toward Port Royal. Then they came across a dirt road with wagon ruts and followed it. The moon shone down on the road, but only shadows were visible on each side.

“I hope this goes to Port Royal,” said Steve. “Following the sun to go west was easy, but we can’t see the stars too well, with all the trees overhead.”

“I suppose it does,” said Jane. “Where else would it go, this close to town?”

“Nowhere else I know of,” said Steve. He rubbed his arms. “My clothes are still wet. Are you cold?”

“Yes. But I’m drying out slowly. I’ll be okay.”

“I’m still not used to this humidity. In the desert, we would have dried out almost right away.”

“What’s that light over there?” Jane pointed to their left, up ahead.

Steve looked. A small light flickered through the trees; some distance away. “It must be someone’s campfire.”

“Aye, that it is,” said a man’s voice.

As Steve stopped in surprise, the dark silhouettes of people stepped out of the shadows, merely shadows themselves in the darkness. Their movements rustled the tree branches and underbrush as they came forward. They had obviously been prepared for intruders. Some blocked the road in front of Steve and Jane, but others came out of the trees on each side of the road. When Steve glanced over his shoulder, he realized that some were behind them, too. He could hardly see them.

16

“AND WHO MIGHT you be?” One of the men in front of Steve had spoken.

“Steve and John,” said Steve, hoping Jane would say nothing. In the dark, the strangers could stand close and still not see that she was a woman. “We’re shipwrecked off the Hungry Hawk.” Taking a deep breath, he decided to be bold. “Who might you be?”

“I’m Nick Van Dyne,” said the man in front of him. “Lately of Port Royal, but we haven’t done so well lately. So it’s our fire you see.”

“We saw those ships from the shore this afternoon,” said another man. “And we heard you coming down the road just a bit ago.”

“Aye, we did,” said Nick, resting his hand on his rapier. “But we have not been welcome in Port Royal for some time, those of us whose gold ran out. We haven’t had a ship to crew for some time. I think these two might have some plunder they could share with us.”

“We don’t have anything,” said Steve.

“Ha! Two Spanish ships were in that fight today, and they both set sail with the others back for Port Royal. I say they were both fat pigeons with plenty of booty for every buccaneer who took part in the voyage.”

“We got thrown off the ship during the fighting,” said Steve, carefully eyeing the buccaneer on his left. That man was holding his cutlass in one hand, down by his side. “No plunder had been divided yet.”

“We shall see,” said Nick, drawing his rapier. “Grab them both!”

Steve had been ready, however. As soon as Nick had reached for his rapier, Steve had whirled to the man holding the cutlass near him and punched him in the stomach. He wrenched the cutlass away just in time to block a thrust from Nick, backing up a step. Then, half-expecting the other buccaneers to jump on him from all sides, he waited for Nick’s next stroke.

The crowd of buccaneers laughed, however, at the way Steve had caught the one man by surprise and taken his sword. Meanwhile, Steve figured that he had little to lose by fighting. These pirates were more aggressive, and probably more desperate, than those on the waterfront of Port Royal. From the bullies and brawlers he had known in the desert back home, he was sure they would respect a fighter. Any attempts he made to mollify them now would be considered cowardice.

“Stand back!” Nick laughed. “He’s a poor man with a sword, but has spirit. Let’s see what else he has.”

Steve kept the cutlass high in front of him as Nick feinted, twirled his point in Steve’s face, and lunged again. As before, Steve knocked the thrust aside with a minimal movement; he could see that a big swing of his arm would momentarily leave him wide open. He really didn’t know what he was doing, however, and had to back up again to avoid a quick flurry of short feints from Nick.

“Get him, Nick!” The man who owned the cutlass shook his fist at Steve.

“He got the better o’ you, all right,” said someone in the crowd, and they all laughed.

Steve’s opponent was quick and confident. All Steve could do was block the strokes he could and slowly back away from the others. Sooner or later, he was likely to back into a tree or trip over a rock or log and fall.

“Stand to, fellow,” said Nick, laughing. “How can we fight if you keep running away?”

“Aye,” called another man. “He probably jumped overboard and swam for shore the same way!”

The buccaneers bellowed with laughter.

Vaguely, as Steve parried again, he heard the sounds of horses and the creaking of some vehicle on the road behind the crowd. He didn’t dare turn to look, but a large, looming shadow blocked the moonlight in his peripheral vision. In front of him, Nick also refused to look away.

Voices sounded behind the crowd. Then, suddenly, the buccaneers gave enthusiastic greetings to someone. The crowd moved quickly away from Nick and Steve and Jane.

“It’s Captain Morgan,” called someone loudly. “Nicky! He’s coming!”

The crowd parted and a tall, burly man strode through the opening.

“Good evening, men,” he said heartily. “So, having a little fun, are you?”

Nick glanced at him quickly, then lowered his rapier, still watching Steve warily. “Evening, Captain.”

Steve dropped the cutlass on the ground. He was grateful for the interruption and wanted to give Nick no excuse to resume the fight. Whatever happened next, he and Jane would have better luck trusting to chance than trusting his fencing.

“A personal row, I suppose.” Captain Morgan looked back and forth between Nick and Steve. “I say, fellow, you’re all wet. So is your friend.”

Steve peered at him in the moonlight. He wore a broad-brimmed hat with plumes, a fancy ruffled shirt, and an unbuttoned coat. A sword and scabbard hung from a polished belt that had a pistol stuck through it. He spoke with a British accent that was different from the ones Steve had heard in Port Royal.

“Aye, Captain,” said Steve. “We, uh, wound up in the water during the attack on a Spanish ship. My friend here lowered a dinghy and we rowed to shore.”

“A Spanish ship, this close to the coast of Jamaica?” Captain Morgan looked at him doubtfully..

“We took two of them,” said Steve, seeing that Captain Morgan was interested in this subject. “A sailor on one of them said that a storm broke up their convoy and blew them off course.”

“Ah! Good fortune for you, then.” Captain Morgan grinned broadly. “Glad to hear it. I would hear more of this, however.” He took another look at Jane in the darkness.

“We can tell you much more,” said Steve, eagerly. “The names of the ships and how we attacked them, all that.”

“Excellent! I must introduce myself. I am Henry Morgan, a colonel by commission from Governor Modyford.”

“Pleased to meet you,” said Steve. He suddenly recognized Morgan’s name vaguely from his meager history. “We are Steve and John.”

“Are you returning to Port Royal?”

“Yeah — I mean, aye.”

“You shall be my guests,” said Captain Morgan. “I am a little late, but on my way to Port Royal this evening. Please join me in my carriage.” He turned to one side, gesturing.

Steve grabbed Jane’s arm and pulled her along. The buccaneers made way for them, saying nothing as they watched. Captain Morgan brought up the rear.

The carriage loomed as little more than a large shadow, where a footman opened the door. Steve drew Jane forward to climb in first. He followed her and sat next to her in the forward seat, facing backward. The seat was padded, but he could feel the hard shelf underneath the cushion. Captain Morgan climbed into the opposite seat. When the footman closed the door, Captain Morgan leaned out the window.

“In the next few days, men,” he called. “On the docks as we arranged, eh?”

Enthusiastic agreement from the crowd answered him. Captain Morgan waved and the driver took the coach forward. Steve finally relaxed slightly for the first time since the buccaneers had confronted them.

“I am coming from my plantation in Rio Minho Valley,” said Captain Morgan. He smiled in the faint moonlight coming in through the windows of the carriage. “I hate to see buccaneers fighting each other when I am about to assemble new crews for my ships. We must fight the Spanish together.”

“Sounds good to me,” said Steve.

“I see you are both chilly,” said Captain Morgan. “I shall buy a round of rum at my favorite tavern. It will warm you both.”

“We’re looking forward to it,” said Steve.

“As am I.” Captain Morgan nodded to Jane. “John, I shall see that you are especially comfortable.”

Jane nodded, looking at Steve. If Steve understood Captain Morgan, he was not fooled by her appearance. Yet he seemed to respect her masquerade.

As the carriage swayed and creaked down the road, pulled by a team of lively horses, Steve tried to remember what he could about Henry Morgan. All he could recall was that Morgan had been a buccaneer captain. According to what Rita had told the team in the beginning, the commission from Governor Modyford meant that legally, right now, he was a privateer. Steve saw that he was wealthy, and that he was a big, barrel-chested, confident man, but he was surprised to see that he was also soft-spoken and considerate.

“From where to do you hail?” Captain. Morgan asked.

“From California,” said Steve, with a slight grin. “John, here, is from up the mainland coast.”

“California.” Captain Morgan eyed Steve closely. “That would be a Spanish possession on the far ocean, if I remember my maps rightly. You look a bit Spanish, in fact. Yet you speak English comfortably, albeit with an odd accent.”

“We are buccaneers,” Steve said firmly.

“Aye, that you are. Any man has a fair chance with me. Jamaica has buccaneers from every land. So tell me about your recent voyage.”

Steve decided that as long as he avoided mentioning the future or robots, telling Morgan their story was not likely to change history. During the ride into Port Royal, he told Morgan about the Cadiz and the Sidonia. He briefly mentioned the Hungry Hawk and the Old Laughing Lady; Morgan recognized the names and knew their captains.

“I told them I’d be gathering a fleet,” he said grimly. “I am not pleased that they went adventuring so close to my own call for crews. Good men and ships might have been wasted. Well, I suppose the temptation was too great to pass up. Still, I will want them with me. I hope they will be ready.”

Steve was sure that asking Questions about Morgan’s plans was not wise.

The town gate was closed when the carriage arrived. Steve noticed, however, that the driver only had to shout Captain Morgan’s name to the sentries in order to have it opened. The carriage drove into the town and down to the waterfront.

Steve looked out the window at the taverns and shops. By now, some were familiar. However, the carriage drew up at a tavern that he had not noticed before. It was a small storefront, no different from many others.

“This is not the wildest tavern in town,” said Captain Morgan. “I would say it is not the best, either, but it’s a favorite of mine. You will join me for that rum, eh?”

“Of course,” said Steve.

Jane smiled and shrugged.

The footman opened the door for them. At Captain Morgan’s gesture, Steve slipped out first and waited for Jane. Then they followed their host into the tavern.

It was a small, cozy establishment lighted with torches on the walls and candles on the rough wooden tables. The tavernkeeper greeted Captain Morgan familiarly, as did several of the buccaneers drinking at the tables.

Captain Morgan took a big, round table in the middle of the room. He ordered three tankards of rum, with an amused smile at Jane. She was still not speaking, to masquerade as “John,” but Captain Morgan seemed to consider it merely a mild joke.

The rum was served with a bottle and a plate of tropical fruit. Captain Morgan raised a tankard to Steve and Jane. They clanked theirs against his.

“To good sailing,” said Captain Morgan, before taking a long drink.

“To good sailing,” Steve repeated.

Jane muttered the same quietly, smiling shyly.

“I say,” said Captain Morgan, studying Steve again in the light. “You have a trace of Moor in you, do you?”

Steve laughed and decided to explain his ancestry to Captain Morgan the best he could. “I live in Spanish California, but my family originated in, uh, Cathay. You’ve heard of it?”

“Ah! Yes, I’ve heard tales of distant Cathay, on the far side of the world. Never been there. May hap I’ll go someday.” He took a drink of his rum. “What’s it like?”

“Uh — I don’t know.”

“Eh?”

“I was born in, uh, the New World.”

“Ah! I see, of course. But I still don’t understand how your English is so good if you grew up in New Spain.”

Jane suppressed a smile, and hid behind her tankard.

“Well...” Steve tried to think of an answer. “Captain, I suppose we have more English speakers in California than you realize.”

“Hm! Well, it could be. I wouldn’t know.” Morgan gestured to the plate of fruit and waited until Jane had taken a banana and Steve had picked up a bunch of grapes. “What I do know is that Spain has plenty of rich pickings in this sea, and all the way down the Atlantic Coast.”

“The Spanish Main,” said Steve, repeating a phrase he remembered.

“Aye, so it is. And someday I’ll cross all of it.” Captain Morgan peeled a banana for himself. “It’s full of sweet little towns just waiting for a man of vision to take, just one of these days.” He took a bite of the banana.

“Really?” Steve spoke casually, aware that Captain Morgan was in a mood to talk shop with them. He also realized that he was very hungry, and saw that Jane was reaching for an apple.

“Spain has the richest cities in the Americas,” said Captain Morgan. “And the strongest.”

“The strongest?” Steve took another banana.

“Aye! Oh, any city can be taken, all right. But it takes thought and planning and men of stout heart.” Captain Morgan glanced at both of them and sat up. “By the stars, I forgot my manners! You two have had no supper, I wager.”

“Well … you’d win your wager.” Steve grinned. “But we welcome your hospitality as it is.”

“Nonsense!” Captain Morgan waved to the tavernkeeper. “Two beefsteaks for my friends here! Potatoes, too!” He smiled and spread his arms. “No guests of mine go hungry.”

“We are in your debt,” said Steve.

17

WHEN THE GRILLED steaks and boiled potatoes arrived on wooden platters, Steve and Jane ate eagerly. Steve found his steak rather tough, but he was too hungry to care much. Jane did not complain, either. The tavernkeeper brought sea salt, black pepper, and some sort of red peppers to spice up the meal. Around them, the tavern remained nearly empty.

“May hap you heard about my voyage to Cuba last year,” said Captain Morgan, before taking another swig of rum.

“Hm?” Steve made a noncommittal noise, glad that his mouth was full. He didn’t want to insult the Captain by saying he had not heard of it, but he also didn’t want to be caught pretending to have heard of something he hadn’t.

“The attack on Puerto Principe,” said Captain Morgan, relaxing in his chair. “It’s in Cuba, to the north of us here in Jamaica.”

Steve nodded, glancing at Jane. She shrugged slightly, indicating that she knew nothing about the subject either. Captain Morgan did not seem concerned.

“You see, mates, we knew that the Spanish had it mind to take Jamaica back from us — after all, we took it from them not so many years back. But I convinced Governor Modyford not to sit and wait like ducks in a pond. The way to disrupt your enemy’s plans is to take the war to him.”

Steve nodded acknowledgment.

“The governor commissioned me a colonel for the voyage,” Captain Morgan continued with casual pride. “It required twelve ships — first to take enough men to capture the place, then to bring all the booty home!” He laughed and drank more of his rum.

” A great voyage,” said Steve, between mouthfuls. That was a safe comment to make.

“Our good King Charles appreciated the share of booty that the governor and I sent him, as well.” Captain Morgan paused to pour more rum into all the tankards, He seemed surprised to find that the other two were still nearly full, but he said nothing about it.

Steve took a taste of his rum to be polite. He didn’t like it, but he decided not to complain. Jane was hardly touching hers either.

“I’ve been lying low this past year,” said Captain Morgan. “My raids on Spanish possessions could upset the king if they complicate his politics back home.”

“That makes sense,” said Steve.

“Ha!” Captain Morgan slapped one hand down on the table, jolting it. “What does he know of the Spanish Main?”

“Not much, I suppose,” said Steve mildly.

“Of course not. How would he? But my surprise raids against Spanish towns are preventing the Spanish in America from coordinating an attack on us British. They’d like nothing better than to drive us out of the Caribbean completely!”

Steve knew, of course, that the Spanish never succeeded in doing that; even his history was good enough on that point. He knew that Hunter would not approve of his telling Morgan anything like that, though.

Captain Morgan leaned toward Steve, looking him in the eye. “You’ve no love for the Spanish, I take it?”

“Uh — no, not especially. Not me.” Steve was caught off guard by the buccaneer’s sudden intensity.

“And the two of you missed my voyage to Cuba last year, I take it?”

“Yeah, we missed it,” said Steve.

“And yet the two of you are experienced buccaneers who can claim a share of this day’s bounty when your ships come back into port?”

“Well — yes,” said Steve.

“Well, then! I have need of your kind. I have many ships to fill and not enough men to fill them. You’ll join me, then, when I put out the call.”

Steve glanced at Jane, who was still leaving all the talking to him.

“Eh, mates?” Captain Morgan looked back and forth between them, grinning.

“Of course,” Steve said quickly. He had to keep their masquerade going. “When will it be? You told the others you are gathering crews right away.”

“Aye, that’s why I came into town this evening.”

“Where do we sail this time?”

“Ah, mate, that’s not to be discussed just yet.” Captain Morgan grinned and slapped him on the back. “Not just with you, mind, but I’m not telling anyone. Not until we are well away at sea, where there is no chance that a word will slip. I would not have anyone on this island tempted by money to sell our destination in some Spanish port.”

Before long, Steve and Jane had both finished eating. Captain Morgan drank the rest of the rum and tossed a few coins to the tavernkeeper. Then he sighed and looked out the open doorway at the moonlit sky.

“Well, my friends,” said Captain Morgan. “I rose early today and I shall rise early tomorrow. I must be off to my rooms here in town. I have nine ships preparing to sail even now. You will come when the call goes out for men to sail on them?”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” said Steve.

“Good!” Captain Morgan stood up. “I bid you both good evening then.” He strode out, his boots pounding on the wooden floor of the tavern.

After he was gone, Jane leaned close to Steve. “That was interesting,” she whispered. “And we got a free dinner.”

“Not to mention avoiding that sword fight,” said Steve. “I figured I had to accept his invitation to join his crew. When the time comes, he’ll be too busy to notice us in the crowd. I just didn’t want to risk making him mad.”

“Good idea. Can we find the same inn where we stayed the first night?”

“Yeah. Let’s go. We want to be back on the docks in the morning when Hunter comes in with the ships.”

Hunter spent the night sitting on the deck of the Sidonia. As dawn came up over the edge of the water, the other buccaneers began to rise from their sleep around the ship. No one bothered him all morning. Near midday, he saw Port Royal ahead of them. The Old Laughing Lady had reached port first. The other ships, the Cadiz and the Hungry Hawk, were coming in just behind the Sidonia.

Though puzzled and uncertain, Hunter had not decided to shut himself down completely. He still was under a First Law imperative to protect his human companions if he could and to return them to their own time even if he was not capable of apprehending MC 2. When the Sidonia anchored in the bay, he joined the line of buccaneers who were receiving a share of the loot from the ship. Each one took his share before being lowered in a longboat to be rowed to shore.

Hunter’s share was two handfuls of evenly mixed gold and silver coin. When he stared at the coins in some surprise, a good-natured buccaneer handed him a scarf to bundle them up. Without a word, Hunter tied his bundle firmly to his sword belt and climbed into the next longboat.

As the other buccaneers ran cheering and whooping for the taverns with their booty, Hunter walked along the docks, unsure of himself. He was nearly in robotic shock and very tentative about making any decision. Without Jane’s earlier reminders that his human team still needed him, he might have shut down completely. As it was, he was having trouble focusing on his goals and choosing decisive action.

“Lack of focus is only one step away from complete incompetence,” Hunter said to himself. Putting his concerns into words helped him narrow his attention. “I must concentrate in order to remain functional. Prioritize my goals. What is most urgent? First, reconstruct the team. That requires locating and communicating with Steve, Jane, and Rita.” He activated his internal communicator. “R. Hunter calling Steve, Jane, and Rita. I am on the waterfront again and will await you here.”

Hunter was concerned about facing Steve and Jane again. He expected that whatever he had done on board ship to cause Jane to hit him was no longer relevant. Still, he would not enjoy learning that he had done something extremely serious or, worst of all, violated one of the Laws without realizing it.

He began repeating the message at sixty-second intervals, and looked back at the ships now anchored in the bay. None were out of the range of his communicator. Since radio would not be developed for another couple of centuries, he did not have to worry about jamming, codes, regulations, or identification problems. Yet~heard no response.

Hunter remained standing where he was, on the waterfront in the morning sunlight. More buccaneers ran past him, shouting and singing. He discontinued his message, suddenly concerned that the buccaneers near Steve and Jane might overhear the sound, chastising himself for forgetting that possibility.

That was another sign that his efficiency was dropping. In addition, he was growing more anxious as minutes passed without a response. He should never have left Steve and Jane.

“Hey, mate! Come on!” A heavy hand pounded Hunter on the back, startling him.

Hunter turned in surprise to look. The buccaneer was almost as big as he was. “Yes? Where are you going?”

“To the taverns, mate!” He had not actually stopped, but turned to face Hunter as he backpedaled. “Come on, fellow! I’m Ned. I know you’re one of us — I saw you on board both those Spanish pigeons. So what’s your name, eh?”

“Hunter.”

“Come on, then.”

Hunter recalled Jane’s admonition to maintain his masquerade as a buccaneer. That, too, gave him some direction. He followed Ned and the other buccaneers, who were scattering to the different taverns, cheering and whooping.

In the tavern, Hunter carefully imitated some of the other buccaneers. He smiled the way they smiled, bought the same bottle and tankard of rum, and sat with Ned and his cronies at a big, round table. This behavior required very little of his attention, however, and the rowdiness of his new companions did not alter his mood in the slightest.

Hunter observed that the buccaneers’ behavior gradually changed as they consumed greater amounts of rum. He accessed his data on that substance and studied the effects of drunkenness on humans. In some ways he found drunkenness to be a very close parallel to his own failing efficiency. On the other hand, while the pirates became more drunk with each round, his condition did not change.

The tavern was full of loud, raucous buccaneers; at some tables, they were singing. Then two familiar faces caught Hunter’s attention. Roland was entering the tavern with MC 2. Instantly, Hunter focused his attention on both of them. Many of his doubts about his ability were forgotten as he considered the new situation.

Deliberately, Hunter reviewed his data. Roland and MC 2 must have returned to Port Royal on the Hungry Hawk. Rita, however, should be with them.

Hunter remained where he was, observing Roland with MC 2. They stood at the bar; Roland led the way through the crowd and MC 2 stayed close to him. Hunter altered his aural sensitivity to prioritize Roland’s voice pattern.

“Two tankards of rum,” Roland called to the tavernkeeper. “Pay the man out of your share, Shorty.”

MC 2 paid for the rum.

“Hey, Roland,” said a bearded buccaneer at the bar. “Why don’t you pay for your own drink?”

“What do you care?” Roland grinned broadly. Then he punched the other man in the stomach suddenly, without any warning.

The other man doubled up.

Hunter felt a contradiction churning inside his system, as the First Law told him to prevent any further violence and his own judgment told him to let the locals of this time conduct their affairs without his interference.

The man who had been punched lunged for Roland’s throat. ‘Roland stepped back in the same moment and MC 2 slipped in front of him. As the bearded buccaneer came forward, MC 2 picked him up under his arms and lifted him into the air.

“Hey! Hey, you! This ain’t your fight!” The bearded man kicked and swung his fists helplessly in the air.

The crowd roared with laughter.

“He’s a funny fellow,” said Roland, laughing. “He doesn’t say much, but he hates having anyone try to hurt me.”

“Put me down!”

“Not yet,” Roland ordered.

“Does he do everything you tell him?” The first man squirmed but could not get free.

“Nay,” said Roland. “I told him to hit a Spaniard for me and he wouldn’t do it. But he’ll do most anything I say. Put him down, Shorty.”

MC 2 gently set the buccaneer back on his feet. The bearded man turned and shoved his way through the crowd. MC 2 stood quietly.

Hunter decided to make his presence known to MC 2. He could not allow Roland to control MC 2, even if Roland did not know why MC 2 would obey his instructions. Hunter transmitted an internal message to him.

“I am R. Hunter, a humaniform robot from your time,” said Hunter. “Acknowledge.”

MC 2 did not respond.

“I have followed you from Mojave Center, under a Second Law instruction to bring you back to our time. I am in the room observing you, so your masquerade is no longer effective. The First Law requires that you cooperate with me because your very presence at human size in this time threatens to alter history and harm the humans of the future. You must acknowledge this First Law problem.”

MC 2 did not react outwardly, but he radioed back. “Your First Law imperative is not fully convincing to me. Until I am fully persuaded that your assessment of my presence is correct, I am not bound by your opinion.”

“Tell me where the woman named Rita is. The First Law clearly governs her welfare.”

“I do not know.”

“Where did you last see her?”

“She was present at the attack on the ship Sidonia. I know nothing of her whereabouts since that time.”

Hunter’s worry about Rita deepened.

Suddenly a roar of shouts came from the doorway. The bearded buccaneer was back, charging into the tavern at the head of a mob of other drunken buccaneers. Most of them leaped at random on their brethren drinking in the tavern, but their bearded leader ran straight for Roland, followed by a knot of bellowing comrades.

Roland just had time to fling his tankard at the bearded buccaneer, who dodged it; it banged against the head of a man behind him. Then MC 2 again blocked the way to Roland, but this time the sheer weight of the mob knocked him down. As MC 2 hit the floor, many of the men stumbled over him. They went down in a heap.

Roland, who was clearly no coward, leaped into the fray himself.

Allover the tavern, onlookers were either joining in or roaring with approval, cheering on one friend or another. Hunter, suddenly moving with more decisiveness and urgency than he had felt since Jane had clubbed him, jumped up and ran toward the fight. Hunter now had his best chance ever to grab MC 2.

18

HUNTER DID NOT speak as he took the shoulders of various buccaneers and flung them aside. Most of what he heard everyone yelling was either insult or encouragement, neither of which seemed desirable to him. He worked his way through most of the crowd, but people kept jumping on him and hitting him. None of the punches did any damage, but the necessity to avoid harming any humans delayed him. He could only push them out of the way, and they kept coming right back.

After several moments, Hunter realized that he was not making much progress. Ahead of him, MC 2 was struggling with four drunken humans in what appeared to be a stalemate. Roland, on the other hand, was taking a beating.

Hunter radioed to MC 2. “I am going to take Roland out the front door. Since he is the cause of this fight, it may solve the problem. Under the First Law, to stop all the harm the humans are doing to each other, you must help me.”

“Agreed,” MC 2 radioed back. “I will distract as many of the humans as I can simultaneously.”

With a new focus, Hunter changed direction. He shoved aside a couple of buccaneers, then lifted a fairly short fellow and gently but firmly handed him to a surprised larger man, who collapsed under the sudden weight. When he reached Roland, he did not join the fight around him. Instead, Hunter grabbed Roland around the waist and lifted him up, away from the bearded man and his companions.

“Whoa! Ahoy! What’s this?” Roland demanded in surprise, kicking and flailing in the air.

“I am helping you,” said Hunter. He shifted his grip and raised Roland high over his head. Then he began a long, difficult walk through the brawling crowd.

MC 2, now free of the specific chore of protecting Roland, got in the way of the buccaneers who were still going after Roland. Maneuvering became easier for both robots because most of the buccaneers seemed to think Hunter was fighting with Roland, and shouted encouragement to Hunter to fling Roland across the room.

Hunter worked his way to the door patiently, still holding Roland high. Finally, turning sideways, he burst outside into the tropical sunlight and quickly strode away from the tavern. He did not hesitate, but walked quickly to the corner of the block and hurried up an alley. By that time, his hearing told him that none of the humans were following them.

“I am in an alley,” Hunter radioed to MC 2. “Out the door and to the right. Home in on my signal and join me.” Then he spoke aloud to Roland. “Are you harmed?” Hunter carefully bent down and set Roland on his feet.

“Not to speak of. Thanks, mate.” Roland looked at him curiously. “I don’t think I know you. Why the rescue, then? Not that I mind, you understand.”

“I want to know where the woman named Rita Chavez is.”

“Rita? I don’t believe I know anyone —”

“Lying to me is not wise. You went on board the Hungry Hawk with her. Where is she?”

“Uh — well, I do owe you a favor. Sure, I know her a little. But I lost track of her during the fight on shipboard. I haven’t seen her since then.”

Hunter was watching Roland’s face carefully and listening to the tone of his voice as he spoke. From his data about human behavior, he concluded that Roland was telling the truth. He nodded his acceptance.

“Uh, look, mate — thanks for the lift, so to speak, but I think a few of those blokes may still be under full sail back there. I ought to make myself scarce for a bit.”

“Yes, I agree.”

“All right, then. So long!” Roland jogged away from Hunter, up the alley.

Hunter then realized that MC 2 should have already joined him. He walked back down to the main thoroughfare. “MC 2, respond. Are you in trouble?”

On the waterfront, he looked around in all directions. MC 2 was not in sight. The sounds of struggle from the tavern had ended; some buccaneers were singing again.

“MC 2, respond.”

When Hunter received no answer, he hurried back to the doorway of the tavern. One of two possibilities had occurred; either MC 2 had been damaged and trapped in the tavern, or he had run away. In the doorway, Hunter’s enhanced sight and hearing told him instantly that MC 2 was no longer inside.

Hunter stopped where he was. He realized that he had misjudged the power his First Law interpretation had over MC 2. Apparently MC 2 had decided that once Roland was safely outside in Hunter’s care, the First Law imperative on MC 2 was no longer in effect. So MC 2 had taken the opportunity to flee from Hunter under the Third Law while Hunter was in the alley with Roland.

If MC 2 had passed the mouth of the alley where Hunter had been, Hunter would have heard him. That meant MC 2 had gone in the opposite direction when he had first left the tavern; on the waterfront, there were only two possible directions from this doorway. Hunter walked quickly after MC 2, running through the new situation in his mind.

“I know that he is nearby,” Hunter said to himself. “I know he is aware of my presence. Roland knows that MC 2 will follow his orders, short of harming humans, though he apparently has no idea why; Roland does not seem to know that I must do the same.”

With MC 2 so close, Hunter felt a resurgence of his efficiency. A residual effect of his earlier malaise might have accounted for his misjudgment about MC 2’s response to the First Law imperative concerning Roland. Still, he knew what to do next.

First he sent out his radio signal to Steve, Jane, and Rita again. Maybe he could finally get an explanation of why Jane had clubbed him over the head. Then he began a systematic search of the waterfront and the side streets leading inland. He turned up his hearing and vision and began to move at a light run.

Before Wayne took one of the longboats from the Old Laughing Lady back to the docks, he checked on Rita. He found her well, though cautious with him. She reported that Captain Tomann had not tried her door. Wayne was convinced that he would not bother Rita as long as he believed she was worth a ransom. Then Wayne had to wait for the longboat to be rowed back since he had missed the first wave of departures.

Finally on the waterfront again by midmorning, Wayne looked around for Hunter. He could hear the singing and shouting of celebration from the nearest taverns. Other buccaneers were wandering up and down the waterfront laughing and talking, or shopping at the small booths. Wayne wanted to find Hunter to talk business, but of course Hunter could find him more easily than he could find Hunter.

“Well,” Wayne muttered aloud to himself. “Might as well enjoy it a little.” He decided to have breakfast. His pockets were heavy now with coins he had received as his share of the loot from the brief voyage.

Wayne went to a booth right across from the docks. He would be in plain sight there if Hunter came walking along the waterfront. Wayne bought a couple of rolls, a small smoked fish, and some fresh, cool water. Then he sat down on a nearby rock to eat.

Just as Wayne was finishing his first roll, someone slipped quietly behind him and sat down on another rock.

“Good morning to you,” Roland said softly, glancing around. “Fine day, isn’t it?”

“What — Roland! Come around beside me.” Wayne was startled, but tried to cover it. Wayne decided to stay calm and find out what Roland wanted.

“No, sorry. I had a spot of trouble a while back. I’ll just keep my head down and sit behind you.”

“Oh. Something serious?”

“Nay!” Roland laughed lightly. “Not at all, mate. Too much rum early in the morning and a bit of celebration was all. I doubt anyone’s carrying a grudge, but I’ll watch out for myself a little longer.”

“Here.” Wayne handed him a roll, phrasing his next question carefully. “Have you learned anything about the people I paid you to find?”

“That little guy you’re looking for,” said Roland, taking a bite out of the roll. “He’s real strong for his size and basically does what people tell him?”

“That’s right. So you’ve seen him?”

“Aye.” Roland nodded. “But he got away from me again. He’s here on the waterfront, though, or at least he was not very long ago.”

“Good work. If you can grab him again, will you bring him to me? I’m staying out on the Old Laughing Lady.”

“Ah! You’re on the crew with the wild man, eh?” Roland grinned. “Don’t make Tomann mad, now. I’d hate to lose you as a source of employment, even with my share of booty from the last voyage.”

“We’re getting along just fine.”

“You know …” Roland trailed off, looking at Wayne. “That is, could there be another one of these blokes?”

“Another one? Of the same stature?”

“No, no! Just the opposite. I got myself into a brawl, see, and the little fellow stopped someone from hitting me. Then a minute later this gigantic man rose up from a table and charged into the group.”

“Gigantic, you say. Maybe about, oh, six and a half feet tall? Brawny?”

“You got it, mate. He picked me up like I was a little shaver and carried me out of the tavern over his head.”

“Blond hair, square jaw, clean-shaven-good looking man?”

“Well, no. Maybe I have the wrong fellow. This one has brown hair and a beard, and a narrow face.”

“Did he say anything?”

“Well — yes. He asked me about Rita.”

“Rita!”

“That’s right.”

“It must be Hunter,” said Wayne. “The same, uh, man but in disguise. What did you tell him?”

“I told him I couldn’t help him.”

“Very good. All right, I tell you what. For now, forget about looking for Rita and distracting her.”

“As you please. Is there anything you would like me to do — that is, anything worth a bit of coin?”

“Yes.” Wayne leaned to one side to stick his hand in his pocket. He pulled out some more coins. “Take this. Stay on the lookout for MC 2 and bring him to Tomann’s ship if you can.”

Roland took the coins. “He’s important to you, all right; I can see that. But what’s it all about?”

“Sorry,” said Wayne. “I can’t explain it. But it’s very important — more important than you can imagine. I have to get my hands on him.”

Roland glanced around quickly and drew away. “I’ll remember that.”

Steve and Jane had spent the previous night at the same inn as before. It had seemed odd without Hunter, but the night passed without incident. They ate breakfast on the waterfront while they watched the ships sailing into port. When the longboats began rowing the crews to shore, Steve had found a spot at one end of the docks where they could look down the length of the waterfront. They were searching for Hunter most of all, but Roland, Rita, or MC 2 would do for a start.

At one point, Steve had pointed to a very tall, brawny figure standing uncertainly on the docks after climbing out of a longboat. “Hey, there’s Hunter.”

“No, wait,” Jane had said. “See the beard? And the brown hair? I think that’s the guy who was coming after you when you were sword fighting. He’s the one I clubbed with a belaying pin. And he might remember me.”

They had continued to watch the waterfront until most of the buccaneers were in the taverns, drinking and singing. Then, having nothing better to do, they had begun to walk around again, hoping either to see or be seen by someone they wanted to find.

By midday, they had not seen any of the people or robots they sought, but the buccaneers began wandering out of the taverns again, looking for more excitement. Many were at the booths, crowding the waterfront and making any search more difficult.

“Look,” said Jane. “A lot of people seem to be heading for that one tavern up ahead.”

“Isn’t that where Morgan bought us dinner last night?”

“I think you’re right. It looks different in the daytime. Do you think he’s back there?”

“One way to find out,” said Steve. “Maybe he’s signing up those crews he mentioned.”

“Watch out for that guy named Nick,” said Jane. “He might want to finish that fight with you.”

Steve and Jane worked their way through the crowds to the tavern. The doorway was jammed with onlookers, but Steve stopped to peer through a window. Inside, Captain Morgan was seated at the same big, round table he had taken the previous night. A number of other buccaneers were sitting with him, talking.

“What is it?” Jane asked, coming up next to Steve.

“I’m sure he’s planning that voyage. But I don’t see anyone we’re looking for.”

“I guess we might as well keep going.”

“Yeah.”

They turned away from the window and walked on up the waterfront.

Late in the day, Wayne sat down at a small outdoor booth for a tankard of ale. It was on one of the side streets leading away from the waterfront Shortly after Roland had left him, he had seen Steve and Jane walking around, obviously looking for someone, and he had spent the afternoon avoiding them as well as searching for MC 2.

“Good day, friend,” Roland said quietly behind him.

Startled, Wayne turned and found Roland at the head of a small group of buccaneers. Roland was smirking; the others had suspicious, wary expressions. As Wayne looked at them, the group formed a semicircle around him, trapping him against the booth.

“Good day, Roland,” said Wayne cautiously.

“Your friend is well,” said Roland. “My mates found him for me, after I put out the word.”

“Well! That’s great. You had a real advantage over me, knowing so many people.”

“Aye, that I did. And we have your short friend in a place of our own.”

“Let’s go see him,” Wayne said with forced cheer, sliding off his stool.

Roland moved sideways to block his way. “Not just yet. You have my pay?”

“I will pay on delivery,” said Wayne.

“Indeed, you will,” said Roland. “We will accept his weight in evenly mixed gold and silver coin in exchange for him.”

“What?” Wayne stared at him. “I don’t have anything like that much.”

“Get it” Roland turned away.

“That’s crazy.” Wayne started to reach for Roland’s arm.

In response to the motion, five of the nearest buccaneers all tensed. Two reached for their swords and another drew a pistol from his sash. Wayne froze, his heart pounding.

Roland glanced back over his shoulder and laughed. Then, shaking his head, he walked away without deigning to turn. His companions followed him, first walking backward to watch Wayne before finally turning and hurrying away.

Wayne let out a quivering breath and relaxed. At least he had a lead on MC 2’s whereabouts. Roland probably had him imprisoned on the Hungry Hawk. However, Wayne saw no reasonable way that he could acquire the ransom the buccaneers wanted.

He remained where he was for a few minutes longer, then started walking in the opposite direction from the one Roland had taken. As he thought over his new problem, he saw two possibilities. He could either try to team up with Hunter and almost certainly lose MC 2 to him permanently, or he could enlist Captain Tomann’s help.

Captain Tomann was his first choice, but of course he was still on board his ship. Wayne would have to visit the taverns and find some crew members who would row him back out to the Old Laughing Lady as soon as he could arrange it. He headed down the waterfront one more time.

Steve and Jane sat on a couple of empty, discarded kegs at the shore end of a pier as the sun turned red in the west. They had spent the entire day searching for a familiar face from their own time and had not seen one. Their task had become more difficult as the day wore on, because of the increasing activity up and down the entire waterfront.

All day, buccaneers had brought supplies out of warehouses. Rope, pitch, and canvas were easy to identify as they were $tacked on every pier. Steve knew from his one previous voyage that food, fresh water, gunpowder, and cannon shot had to be in the barrels men rolled down the street and in the crates he saw loaded onto wagons. Even so late in the day, the men doing the work jammed the waterfront, shouting and cursing as they worked. Other buccaneers filled their longboats with supplies and rowed them out to their ships, then returned for another load.

“I count the nine ships Captain Morgan told us about,” said Steve. “I think that’s a very big voyage for a town this size. And I think he may have ordered them to be ready to sail by dawn.”

“Why didn’t they plan ahead? They could have loaded the ships in advance.”

“Remember how important secrecy was to him? He probably wants to get under way before word starts to spread to other ports.”

“Say, is that — no, never mind.” Jane shook her head. “I thought I saw Hunter, but it’s a false alarm.”

“Where?”

“It’s that guy I hit over the head.”

“Him again? We’ve been avoiding him all day. He might not even remember you.” Steve looked at the figure moving through the crowd, towering head and shoulders over the people around him. “There aren’t many guys that big, are there?”

Suddenly Jane gasped. “Steve, look.”

“Where?”

“At that guy. He just came through the crowd into an open space. You can see all of him.”

“What about him?”

“I think it is Hunter.”

“How can he be Hunter?”

“Ignore his face for a minute. Look at the rest of him — his build, the way he moves, his walk.” She shook her head. “Steve, in the excitement of the fight on board ship, I forgot — he can change his appearance.”

“He can?”

“Yes, that’s one of his more sophisticated abilities.”

“You mean he can actually alter the shape of his face like that?”

“Yes, that’s what I mean. Within limits; he can alter his body shape as well. And I clubbed him! Come on!” She jumped up and ran.

19

“HUNTER! HUNTER!” JANE ran toward him, shouting and waving.

Caught by surprise, Steve got up and followed her. Up ahead, the tall buccaneer had instantly turned at the sound of Jane’s voice. Then he waved back and moved to meet her.

“Hunter! So it is you.” Jane smiled with relief as she caught up to him.

“Yes, of course,” said Hunter stiffly, in a flat monotone. “I have tried to reach you both through the communicators I gave you.”

“We lost them,” said Steve. “We’ll tell you about it later.”

“I have an urgent question to ask Jane,” said Hunter. “What did I do wrong?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why did you strike me?”

“On shipboard, you mean?” Jane’s eyes widened in surprise. “Hunter, I didn’t recognize you!”

Hunter’s hesitation was barely perceptible to Steve, but that meant it was very long by robotic standards.

“I made a careless mistake,” said Hunter. “I altered my appearance so that I would not alert Wayne Nystrom or Rita that I was nearby on board ship.”

“And then you forgot?” Jane looked at him skeptically. “Robots don’t just forget. What happened?”

“My efficiency had dropped below normal even before that moment,” said Hunter. His voice was no longer a monotone, though he still spoke in a tentative, stilted fashion. “When the fighting began, I was focused tightly on sorting out which First Law imperatives to pursue, such as protecting you, and which ones I had to ignore, such as allowing buccaneers to fight each other so that I would not alter the course of history.”

“You came up to help me fight that Spaniard,” Steve said suddenly. “I thought you were coming after me.”

“So did I,” said Jane. “That’s why I clobbered you.”

“I have no excuse,” said Hunter. “If my efficiency had been at a normal level, I would have remembered at all times that humans recognize each other primarily by appearance.”

“Don’t you?” Steve asked.

“Not necessarily. I can make a positive identification by voice pattern as well. Other traits, such as footsteps and heartbeat, can be equally definitive in some cases.”

“I made the same kind of mistake,” said Jane. “If I had seen you just walking down the street the first time, I might have guessed it was you, just like I did a few minutes ago. But in the excitement of the fighting, I got careless too.” She studied him for a moment. “So you thought I was punishing you for something you did?”

“Not punishing me,” said Hunter. “I thought I was making a serious mistake that you had to prevent, one so urgent that you did not have time to discuss it. I nearly shut myself down because of it.”

“Your misinterpretation was a minor mistake,” Jane said quickly. “No harm has been done. Don’t let it raise your doubts about your adequacy for this mission again.”

“Understood,” said Hunter. “But I think I will change my appearance back to the way it was.”

Steve glanced at the crowd of men working around them, even though the sun had begun to sink below the horizon. “Better duck out of sight first. otherwise; these guys are going to see you and think it’s witchcraft or something.”

“Let’s all move over to a side street,” said Jane quickly. “Come on.”

As soon as they left the waterfront, the streets were much less crowded. Hunter simply turned toward a tree trunk and bent low to hide his face from any passersby. He remained motionless for less than a minute. When he turned around again, he had returned to his original appearance.

“Wow,” said Steve.

“Have you made any progress on our search?” Hunter asked. His voice was almost normal now.

“Not really,” said Steve. “I went overboard during the fight on board ship. Jane lowered a boat and jumped in the water too.” He grinned at her.

“We lost our communicators in the water,” said Jane. “But we rowed back to shore safely. We’ll tell you about Captain Morgan later.”

“I communicated briefly with MC 2, but he got away,” said Hunter. “He and Roland are in the area again, however.”

“I have this feeling that maybe Rita and Roland are just hiding out somewhere,” said Steve. “Suppose they really fell for each other. They could stay out of sight for a long time.”

“That is not the impression I got,” said Hunter. “I spoke to him too.”

“We need to brief each other,” said Steve. “And I’m hungry. Let’s do it over dinner.”

“I’m all for that,” said Jane.

Hunter was deeply relieved to learn that he had not made a mistake serious enough to force Jane to hit him. He did note that in the maze of First Law questions which arose on board the ship, he had failed to communicate his new appearance to his team; that was clearly a serious failure. Since Jane had shared the responsibility for the confusion, however, he was able to allay some of his doubts.

Steve found a small tavern out by the end of the waterfront where they had built the Jamaica Jane. It was nearly deserted. Hunter, Steve, and Jane sat at a corner table and recounted their actions since they had split up, completing the stories as they set aside their dishes at the end of the meal.

“And so,” Hunter finished, “I have continued to radio MC 2 occasionally, but he has not responded again. He clearly has decided that my interpretation of the First Law imperative regarding the future is too uncertain to override his Third Law imperative to keep himself away from us.”

“Have you radioed any details about the application of chaos theory to history?” Jane asked. “Maybe he would have to take the argument more seriously if it was developed.”

“Yes, I tried that this afternoon from time to time,” said Hunter. “I suspect he shut off his receiver again as soon as he fled, to avoid that kind of argument.”

“This place is still empty,” said Steve, looking around the tavern. “When we first came in, I thought we had just beaten the dinner rush. But no one’s coming in at all.”

“I guess the loading is still going on,” said Jane. “But’s it’s dark now.”

Steve nodded. “I can see men carrying torches pass by from time to time. And there is some moonlight.”

“I suppose we need a new plan of action,” said Jane. “Maybe we can discuss what to do tonight, get some rest, and put it into practice tomorrow.”

“Sure,” said Steve, with forced cheer. “Well — at least we don’t have to worry about being run down by a dinosaur stampede.”

Jane laughed.

Hunter suddenly received a call on his internal receiver.

“Rita calling Hunter. Are you there?” Her voice was low and hurried.

“Hunter here,” he radioed back. “Where are you?”

“I’m a prisoner on a ship called the Old Laughing Lady. I need help. Wayne Nystrom has this Captain Tomann guy working with him. They’re keeping me here.”

“I saw the ship in the harbor today. You are in Port Royal. We are not far.”

“But we’re leaving.”

“You are?”

“Wayne just told me we’re about to set sail. I’m in one of the officer’s quarters.”

“Are you in danger of immediate harm?”

“Uh — no, except for being taken out of port. I would have called earlier today, but I was sure they would take me ashore again.”

“I want to remain in radio contact with you. How often are you alone?”

“Well, I was alone most of today, but we were anchored. I don’t know what will happen now.”

“All right. As you know, I cannot risk exposing Captain Tomann or other buccaneers to radio. Please contact me every hour if you can. I will not call you. We will follow you, however, if we can.”

“Hunter?”

“Yes.”

“I … apologize. I made a big mistake.”

“Accepted. Hunter out.”

“What is it, Hunter?” Jane was looking closely at him. “For a minute there, I thought you were freezing up or something.”

“Rita just contacted me by radio,” said Hunter, rising from his chair. “She is Wayne Nystrom’s prisoner on board the Old Laughing Lady — and the fleet is setting sail.”

“Wow!” Steve leaped up. “We have to join them somehow.”

“Come.” Hunter walked briskly out of the tavern, leaving payment for dinner on the bar without breaking stride. Steve and Jane hurried after him.

Outside, Hunter crossed the wide thoroughfare to walk down one of the long piers. Now, for the first time that day, all the docks were empty of barrels and crates, enabling him to see clearly in all directions. On each side, the surf broke with a steady, rhythmic crashing. In the harbor, many of the ships showed small, yellowish lights on deck and sometimes in the windows of the officers’ quarters astern.

“Can we sign on the Old Laughing Lady, too?” Jane wondered. “Or would that be a mistake?”

“Maybe we can try,” said Hunter. He looked out across the harbor, enhancing his vision to make the most of the pale moonlight. Many of the ships were of the same type and design, but no two were exactly alike, especially in their rigging. By accessing his memory of the Old Laughing Lady, Hunter was able to pick it out now in the distance. “It is a long way out into the harbor. By the time we find a longboat to reach it, I expect it will have set sail.”

“Where’s the Hungry Hawk?” Steve asked. “Maybe we can sign on with Captain Quinn. I bet he’s going, too.”

“We have the same problem with him,” said Hunter. “Captain Quinn also anchored well away from shore. We may have to build another version of the Jamaica Jane to follow them.”

“Oh, no,” said Steve. “I hope not.” He looked around frantically, and pointed to another ship, showing some lights nearby. “That ship hasn’t weighed anchor yet. And it’s a lot closer to the docks. I can even spot some of the guys on board — you see them, when they walk within the range of lamps on the deck?”

“Maybe it’s not part of the fleet,” said Jane.

“It is riding low in the water,” said Hunter. “It was probably loaded today for the voyage, like so many others.”

“Steve,” Jane said anxiously. “I think that’s Captain Morgan.” She pointed. “Look next to that lamp right by the rail, in the big plumed hat.”

“Yes!” Steve took a deep breath and shouted. “Captain Morgan! Captain Morgan!”

Hunter watched the man in the plumed hat. He showed no sign of hearing Steve. “The breaking of the surf is drowning you out. I could shout loud enough for him to hear, but it would be humanly impossible and someone might notice.”

Steve turned to look up and down the waterfront. “There!” He pointed and ran back down the length of the dock.

Hunter jogged after him, trying to figure out what Steve had seen. Jane ran with him. At the end of the pier, Steve turned to his left and kept running.

“You there! You guys!” Steve was yelling and waving as he ran.

Hunter saw a couple of buccaneers sitting on the near end of another pier, leaning against a discarded pile of rotted canvas as they drank out of tankards. A dinghy tied to the pier swayed gently on the waves near them. The two buccaneers looked up over their tankards in surprise at Steve.

“Is that your boat?” Steve demanded, slowing down.

“Who wants to know?” One buccaneer, sporting a large, gold hoop earring, grinned at him with broken teeth, then took another drink.

“I’ll buy it from you.” Steve pulled up in front of them, breathing hard.

“He wants to buy it from us,” said the other buccaneer mockingly, closing one eye to look at Steve. He tugged thoughtfully on a thin, scraggly beard.

Hunter slowed down as he came up behind Steve. Jane stopped with him. The two buccaneers glanced at them cautiously.

“How much do you want for the dinghy?” Steve asked.

“A handful of gold coin,” said the man with broken teeth belligerently. “If you want it so bad.”

“We’ll give you one gold coin for it,” said Steve. “And it’s not worth that much.”

“Nay, nothing doing,” said the buccaneer. “Prices went up all over town when that Spanish treasure came into port this morning. And you sound awful anxious.”

“Aren’t you missing your ship?” Steve jerked a thumb toward the harbor. “You’re being left behind too.”

“Maybe we don’t care. Or maybe we just don’t plan to go to sea tonight.”

“All right. Two gold pieces. You can buy a lot of rum for that.”

“I got this feeling that your ship is about to weigh anchor too. Maybe you three are the ones in a hurry, eh?”

Steve glanced out toward Captain Morgan’s ship. Then he turned to Hunter. “He has a point. What do you think?”

Hunter untied the scarf holding his share of loot and poured a modest handful of coins into his palm. Then he walked over to the buccaneer who had done most of the talking and looked down at him. The buccaneer’s eyes widened as he looked up at Hunter’s immense body towering over him.

“Is this enough?” Hunter spoke in a cold, firm, authoritative voice as he dropped the coins into the buccaneer’s tankard, where they splashed into his rum.

“Aye,” said the buccaneer hoarsely, his throat suddenly gone dry.

“Hurry,” Hunter said to Steve and Jane, moving quickly toward the dinghy. He untied the line and held it as they carefully climbed down and sat in the stem. Then he joined them in the boat and pushed off, hard. As the dinghy angled away from the dock, Hunter took the center seat facing the stem and grabbed two oars. He positioned them carefully and then began to row.

“Say! Look at the fellow on the oars,” said the bearded buccaneer behind them, in surprise. “He can really move that boat.”

“Aw, so what?” His friend snickered. “We did all right, for a boat that wasn’t ours anyhow.”

“Do you want us to take an oar?” Steve asked. “Jane and I could each take an oar. I see another set of oarlocks behind you.”

“No,” said Hunter. “I can maintain our desired speed and direction more consistently this way.” He looked around to see if Captain Morgan’s ship had moved. It was not yet under way.

Hunter concentrated on the flexibility of the oars as he stroked, He was strong enough to row harder, but risked snapping off the oars if he did so, No one spoke.

The dinghy moved through the waves steadily, with agonizing slowness. At least the waves were moderate and the wind was low. Facing him in the stern, Steve and Jane looked into the distance ahead anxiously. At last, Hunter could hear the creaking of the sailing ship growing closer.

“Captain Morgan! Ahoy!” Steve shouted. “Ahoy the ship!”

“Ahoy the boat! Who’s there?” The voice was gruff and suspicious.

Hunter turned to look up. He adjusted his rowing to maintain the position of the dinghy. If they got too close to the hull of the ship, they would have trouble seeing the men who were up on deck.

“Steve and — and John, from last night,” called Steve. “Where’s Captain Morgan?”

“Not so fast,” said the buccaneer. He disappeared from sight. A moment later he reappeared. “The Captain says all right.” He threw a long rope ladder down the side of the hull.

Steve laughed with relief.

“I guess we made it,” said Jane.

Hunter maneuvered the dinghy against the hull and held its position. Steve started up the rope first, then Jane. Hunter remained in the boat until they had both climbed all the way over the rail. Meanwhile, the buccaneers above cranked down a couple of lines on a winch for Hunter to tie to the dinghy. After he had secured the lines, he ascended the rope ladder. By the time he was climbing over the rail, the buccaneers had already begun raising the dinghy.

“Always glad to have experienced buccaneers along,” Captain Morgan was saying to Steve and Jane. “And this is your friend. You are? …”

“I am Hunter, Captain.”

“Well met, Hunter, All right.” Captain Morgan turned and glanced around. “We’re almost ready. You three give a hand where you see the need.” He hurried away, calling to someone across the deck.

Some buccaneers were carrying crates of food below. Others were belaying kegs on deck with rope. Hunter saw a couple of men lifting a rolled sail and quickly joined them. Steve and Jane hurried to his side. Soon they were just part of the crew, working to get the ship under way.

20

WAYNE HAD RETURNED to the Old Laughing Lady before sundown. He had not yet told Captain Tomann that Roland was holding MC 2 hostage. The Captain had been busy all evening directing preparations for the upcoming voyage, so Wayne had easily avoided him. In the moonlight, Wayne stood on deck watching the Hungry Hawk a short distance away. He was sure that Roland had MC 2 on board there.

“A fine night for sailing, eh?” Captain Tomann came up next to him.

“Huh? Oh — it sure is, Captain. When do we leave?”

“We follow Captain Morgan out of port. The lookout is watching his ship.”

“So, where are we going this time?”

“I wish I knew! That crafty old Morgan won’t even tell his own crew, let alone the other captains.”

“And you’re following him anyway?”

“Aye, he’s always done well by us. I’m trusting him to raid some fat sleepy Spanish town — like his raid on Puerto Principe in Cuba last year.”

Wayne nodded.

“So what about our valuable friend? Did you get any leads on him in town?”

“No,” said Wayne. “That is, not for sure. But I wonder if he is on one of the other ships on this voyage.”

“Ah! Now that would be a boon. May hap we can grab him somewhere along the way, eh?” Captain Tomann laughed raucously and pounded him on the back before walking away.

Wayne was not sure why he had said what he had. He would probably need Captain Tomann’s help to get MC 2, but he wanted to be cautious. Roland had betrayed his trust and he was certain that Captain Tomann was not above doing so as well.

Rita posed another problem. Wayne’s earlier plan of trading Rita to Hunter for MC 2 was on hold for the moment — but if Hunter managed to get MC 2 before Wayne did, then it would still work. He saw that Captain Tomann was occupied elsewhere and quietly went below to see Rita.

Her quarters were still bolted on the outside. Wayne unbolted the door and knocked politely.

“Who is it?” Rita demanded.

“Wayne.”

She unbolted the door from her side and opened it. She folded her arms. “How long are you going to hold onto me?”

“Well — I don’t know. But I should come in.”

She moved back and he closed the door. Then she walked all the way to the rear of the chamber, facing one of the small open windows. Through it, he could see the waterfront in the distance.

“Exactly what do you want, anyway?” She turned back to him again. “You really don’t care about me one way or another, do you?”

“No, not really.”

“Then what am I doing here?”

“Look, I don’t want to hurt you or anyone else. I just want my robot back.”

“‘Your’ robot — MC 2.”

“That’s right.”

“I know you invented the Governor robots, but that doesn’t make him yours.”

“I think that’s my business”

“I repeat, what do you want with me?”

“I’m not exactly sure. But I can’t have you interfering with me. So for now, you’ll have to stay here.”

“Well, then, why are we still in port? I thought you said earlier that we were sailing soon.”

“We’re ready. Apparently we have to wait for a Captain Morgan to lead us out of port.”

Her eyebrows went up. “Captain Henry Morgan?”

“I don’t know his first name. I guess so.”

“I knew he was here somewhere, of course,” said Rita. “Well … let’s see. Summer, 1668. Of course — it’s his famous raid on Portobelo.”

“Where?”

“No, no.” She shook her head. “Our destination is a secret. I can’t let it get out. If it does, and the raid is foiled somehow, then we’ll change history.”

“I guess I don’t have to know. I don’t want to change history either.”

“What did you come to see me about?”

Wayne paused. “I don’t know. Maybe I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“To make sure your prisoner couldn’t escape, you mean?” She turned away, looking out the window again.

“Well … like I said, I don’t want to hurt you. I just want my robot back.”

Captain Morgan’s ship led the fleet of nine from the harbor. Steve stood by the rail with Jane and Hunter, watching the lights of Port Royal shrink in the distance and the lamps of the other ships follow them. When the fleet was safely out to sea and sailing south, most of Captain Morgan’s crew went to sleep, leaving only the customary skeleton crew on night watch.

“Hunter,” said Steve. “Can you pick out the Hungry Hawk?”

Hunter looked across the moonlit water at the other ships. “Yes, I see it.”

“Is there any way you could sneak over there tonight and bring Rita back?”

“It is not impossible for me to swim that distance,” said Hunter. “The Hungry Hawk is one of the ships closest to us. However, the risk and difficulty are too high. I will wait until we are anchored, preferably closer.”

Steve nodded. “I guess 1 knew that. I just wanted to make sure.”

“I also have to feel that you two are safe,” said Hunter. “After what happened the last time we separated, I do not want to leave you unless I feel we can reunite without difficulty, especially now that the communicators are gone.”

“What will you do if Rita is not fully cooperative when you find her?”

“She radioed me for help,” said Hunter. “I believe she wants to rejoin us.”

“I hope you’re right,” said Jane. “But I’m asking you as a roboticist. Can you bring her back against her will?”

“Normally, I could not,” said Hunter. “She would give me instructions that I would have to obey. However, in the current circumstances, I can interpret the potential harm she may cause to our future as a First Law imperative.”

“What if she puts up a real fight?” Steve asked. “And makes enough noise to bring trouble?”

“You mean, if she alerts her captors?”

“That’s right.”

“In that event, I would have to judge whether or not an even more immediate First Law imperative exists. This contingency is too complex to predict.”

“In other words, you’ll have to improvise.”

“Yes.”

“I wonder how long it will be before we anchor.” Steve looked up at the stars. “We’re still going south, maybe a little to the southwest. I wonder where we’re going.”

“I do not have enough detailed history to know,” said Hunter. “The data I stored from the city library focused on Jamaica and did not include this voyage. I hired Rita to provide this kind of historical data, which I could not foresee needing. I made a poor choice.”

“She failed to keep to her agreement,” said Jane. “That’s her responsibility, not yours.”

Steve gazed out at the other ships again. They were a silent, peaceful sight on a calm, warm night. For now he could see nothing to do but wait.

As before, Hunter remained awake next to Steve and Jane as they stretched out for the night.

At dawn, Steve rose to find that the ships were still sailing in a good wind. On the captain’s orders, some of the buccaneers broke open crates and barrels of bread, cheese, rum, and fresh water and passed them out. Steve and Jane took their shares and moved away from the crowd, as usual.

“Ah! Good morning to you, Steve and John.” captain Morgan came up to them. “Where’s Hunter?”

Steve grinned and pointed upward. “He’s up in the crow’s nest. He volunteered to take a turn up there.”

“Really?” Captain Morgan craned his neck to look. “Aye, I see him. I hope it’s strong enough to hold him. He’s a very big fellow.”

“And his eyesight is surprisingly good.” Steve grinned and took a bite out of his hunk of cheese.

“I don’t expect he’ll have much to see for a couple of days,” said Captain Morgan. “But we must have someone up there, just in case.”

“So,” Steve said casually, looking at the other ships in the fleet. “Where are we headed, Captain?”

Captain Morgan laughed. “Not yet, my friend. Not yet. In a couple of days, granted fair weather, I shall call all the captains together in council. Then I will reveal our destination, but not before.”

“I see the Hungry Hawk over there,” said Steve, pointing to it with his tankard of drinking water. “We’d like to greet Captain Quinn again, if we get the chance. He sailed on that last voyage of ours.”

“The time will come.” Captain Morgan shrugged and moved on, calling to someone else.

“Why did you say that?” Jane asked.

“I wanted to remind him that we’re buccaneers — that we belong.”

“I wouldn’t let him know we’re interested in the Hungry Hawk.” Jane paused to munch on a piece of bread. “We don’t want him to know that we have our own agenda.”

“You’re right.” Steve smiled, and nudged her playfully with his elbow. “You’re learning more all the time.”

“About what?”

“How to improvise.”

Alone in her chamber, Rita paced anxiously. She wondered if Hunter and his team were anywhere nearby. For the first time, she was considering that she might really get herself killed in the seventeenth century. At the windows, she looked out at some of the other ships in the fleet.

So far, Captain Tomann had left her alone. She liked Roland and supposed that he was with the fleet somewhere. Maybe he would save her if he learned she was locked up.

Rita decided it was time to call Hunter again — if he was still in range of her communicator. First she went to the door and listened for footsteps. She might make excuses about talking to herself if someone heard her voice, but she would not be able to explain if they heard Hunter’s. Then, just to make sure, she moved back to the rear of the room.

“Hunter. Rita calling.”

“Hunter here. Are you well, Rita?”

“Yes — but where are you? Are you close?”

“Steve, Jane, and I are on board Captain Morgan’s flagship. I will have to wait until we anchor before I can attempt taking you off the Old Laughing Lady, under present circumstances. However, if an emergency arises earlier, call me.”

“We won’t anchor for days,” said Rita.

“How long will this leg of the voyage take?”

“I don’t remember exactly. Let me think. At top speed in perfect wind, three or four days. Realistically, I would guess a week at the soonest; maybe longer — if the wind is a big problem, much longer. When we do anchor, it will only be for a short time. We’ll stop first off the coast of Costa Rica.”

“You know where we’re going then. What will happen at Costa Rica?”

“Not very much. Captain Morgan will send longboat crews to shore for fresh water and any food they can find. He’ll be meeting with his captains to give them our true destination. We’re going to attack a city in Panama called Portobelo, near the modern city of Colon.”

“Thank you, Rita. We will help you as soon as we can. Hunter out.”

Rita sighed, wishing that he could help her right away. Still, knowing the team was nearby was reassuring. She gazed out the window again, watching the other ships.

Hunter passed the information he had learned from Rita to Steve and Jane as soon as he could. As Rita had predicted, the ships sailed for over a week. Jane avoided the buccaneers, still worried that they would discover she was a woman. Hunter and Steve usually found chores the three of them could do by themselves. Anyone who began to work on a job was allowed to continue, as the assignments on the pirate ship were haphazard. They kept to themselves and the rest of the crew mostly left them alone. Even under the influence of their nightly rum, none of the buccaneers wanted trouble with someone who could lift, carry, and climb the way Hunter could.

On the eighth day out of port, the lookout shouted that land was visible to the south. As the buccaneers ran to the side to look, Hunter used the map in his stored data and correlated it with the duration, speed, and direction of their voyage. This confirmed to him that they had arrived off the shore of Costa Rica.

“The captains will meet after we anchor,” Hunter said quietly to Steve and Jane. “But longboats will be sent ashore for supplies. It will be a good time for me to attempt reaching the Old Laughing Lady from here and I will feel more secure under the First Law if you two remain safely on board ship. So we should avoid being assigned to the longboats.”

“We won’t be close enough to drop anchor for most of the day,” said Steve. “But when the time comes, let’s go below. I doubt anyone will care, but if anyone comes down, we’ll look busy. We’ll move crates around in the hold or something.”

“Good.”

At midafternoon, the fleet finally drew near enough to drop anchor offshore. Hunter glanced at Captain Morgan, who was eyeing the jungle-covered coast through a spyglass. Then Hunter turned to Steve and Jane.

“It is time, I think. Into the hold, quickly.”

No one else was below. The three of them sat quietly on crates in the hot, dank air while the buccaneers on deck shouted and cheered. They were all anxious to get a break from the routine by rowing to land.

Hunter could tell what was happening by the sounds he heard. First the longboats were released from every ship on long lines, each one dropping into the sea with a splash. Then the buccaneers climbed down rope ladders, shouting to each other to hurry. Soon he could hear the oars splashing into the water as the longboats pulled away. For several minutes, he heard only the footsteps of the skeleton crew that remained on board.

“Captain Morgan is probably going to summon the captains to join him here now for his conference.”

“How can he summon them?” Jane asked.

“With flags,” said Steve. “But, look — the longboats are gone, so we can go up on deck again.”

“All right,” said Hunter. “But I cannot risk swimming to the Old Laughing Lady while the other captains are being rowed to this ship. I shall have to wait until they have arrived.”

“That’s right,” said Steve. “We’ll go up and wait.”

No one on deck took any special notice of them when they emerged from the hold. The buccaneers who were still on board were standing by the rail, gazing at the shore. Captain Morgan stood with them, talking and pointing.

Hunter turned toward the other eight ships. Several longboats were already coming toward Morgan’s ship first, on their way to the shore. That told Hunter the signaling had been completed already.

He moved to the seaward side of the ship and occupied his time by checking the firmness of belayed ropes and the tightness of knots. Steve and Jane did the same. Until the longboats left, they would simply pass the time quietly.

21

AS HUNTER PRETENDED to work, he kept count of the other ship captains who came on board. When all eight had arrived, Captain Morgan took them below to his quarters. Their longboats then headed across the gentle blue waves toward the shore.

“Time for me to go,” he said quietly to Steve.

Steve looked around the deck. “No one is watching. But just in case they turn around, let’s see … Jane, stand next to me and help me pull on this rope.”

Jane and Steve pulled on a loose rope dangling from a pulley in the rigging above. All the rope did was slide through the pulley, but Hunter used their bodies as a screen as he moved to the rail. As silently as possible, he climbed over it and started down the side of the ship. His hearing told him that none of the buccaneers had noticed his departure.

Using tiny irregularities in the wood on the side of the ship as handholds and footholds, Hunter worked his way down the side just as he had climbed up the side of the Cadiz. Hunter worked his way to the waterline and slipped into the sea without a splash. The Old Laughing Lady was roughly fifty meters away, with some variation as the ships drifted on the radius of their anchor lines. In the moderate waves, a good human swimmer could make it easily. For Hunter, it would take virtually no effort at all.

Hunter swam the distance half a meter under the surface of the water. If anyone happened to look in his direction, he would be no more than a shadow of the sort that a large fish or a shark might make. At the same time, he was close enough to the surface for the tropical sunlight to beat down on him as he swam, replenishing his energy through the microscopic solar collectors on his skin where his clothing left it exposed. He arrived at the waterline of the Old Laughing Lady with only a little less energy than he had possessed when he had started his swim.

When he broke the surface of the water, he heard no sound of human activity on the ship. Cautiously, he began to climb up the hull. He hesitated at the rail, looking and listening again. Some buccaneers were dozing on the deck. A few others were gazing toward the shore. None noticed him.

Moving slowly and silently, Hunter moved up on deck, always behind crates, kegs, or rolled sails in order to stay hidden.

“Rita, Hunter calling,” he radioed.

“Hunter!” She radioed back. “Is that you?”

“Yes. I am on deck, staying out of sight of crew members. Where are you?”

“I’m in one of the officer’s quarters.”

Hunter worked his way below, still alert for buccaneers, but encountered none. In the narrow hall, he saw that only one door was bolted from the outside. He unlocked it and heard another bolt move inside the door.

Rita opened it, smiling with relief. “Hunter, I can’t tell you how embarrassed I am. I had no idea I was going to cause this much trouble. When I left, I just wanted to get a feel for the times and experience some of this history.”

Hunter nodded noncommittally. “We should get away from here promptly.”

“Hunter, I’m trying to apologize.”

“I accept your apology,” Hunter said blandly. “Please help the tam from this point.”

“Of course —”

“Come on.” Hunter was not angry at her in the human sense, but he was not sure how much he could trust her. At the very least, her judgment was flawed. For now, he simply wanted to reunite his entire team.

Hunter carefully led Rita up on deck, to the side of the ship that was away from the shore. Hunter could see a few buccaneers on some f the other ships walking around on deck, but none was paying any attention to the Old Laughing Lady. The buccaneers on the Lady were still either napping or watching the shore. Over their heads, signal flags snapped in the breeze, creating enough sound to camouflage Hunter’s voice.

“Can you swim fifty meters?” Hunter whispered.

“Yes. But my clothes will weigh me down and I can’t discard anything. I’ll need them all when I get to the other ship. So I won’t be able to keep up with you.”

“I will stay right with you, of course,” said Hunter. “If you tire, I will carry you back.”

“I see a little dinghy still on board here,” said Rita. “We could row.”

“We must avoid notice if possible,” Hunter. “We will swim.”

“What about, uh, sharks?”

“I saw none. Do you trust my judgment regarding the First Law of Robotics?”

“Yes.”

“Then we should swim.”

“All right.”

Steve sat on a crate next to Jane, who was sitting on a keg. While they had been waiting, they had stacked up some empty crates to block the buccaneers’ view of the rail where Hunter would come aboard, placing them near a rope ladder attached to the side with belaying pins. Then they watched Hunter swim toward them on his back while holding Rita in the lifeguard’s across-chest carry. Some of the buccaneers on board were napping in the shade of the sails; others were still watching the shoreline from the opposite rail. None were looking toward Hunter; nor were they concerned with Steve and Jane.

When Hunter and Rita reached the ship, Steve quietly let down the rope ladder. He moved it hand over hand, making sure that the slight thumping of the ladder against the side of the ship attracted no attention. Rita came up first, breathing hard from exertion, and gave him a self-conscious smile. He nodded coolly and held up a hand for her to wait.

Jane looked around to see if anyone was watching. Then she motioned for Rita to come over the rail. Steve helped her.

“Squat down out of sight for a moment and get your breath back,” said Steve.

Rita ducked down by the pile of crates.

Hunter climbed over the rail, slowly and silently, and joined them. He kept his voice low. “Did anyone miss me?”

“No,” said Jane. “They’re all too busy waiting to see if their friends come back with fresh water and good food.”

“The sun and wind will dry our clothes quickly,” said Hunter. “Rita, we will keep you close to us and hidden from the others as much as possible.”

Rita nodded.

“Someone is going to notice her sooner or later,” said Steve. “We should say that she came back from shore on the wrong longboat. I don’t think anybody will care. These buccaneers just want everyone to take a turn at the chores and to divide the loot fairly after a raid.”

“That is reasonable,” said Hunter. “Rita, what do you think of that?”

“It sounds plausible. But they better not see me till these clinging clothes dry out and get baggy again.”

The ship captains came up on deck, holding rolled maps in their hands. They were talking and laughing among themselves. Steve stood up to watch. The napping buccaneers woke up, and those at the rail also turned.

“Gather ‘round, mates,” called Captain Morgan, waving to everyone. “We’re off for Portobelo in Panama, the richest city in New Spain!”

The buccaneers looked at each other in surprise and cheered, but Steve felt they were less than truly enthusiastic. Captain Morgan began telling them all about the wealth to be found there. Steve knelt next to Rita.

“What’s wrong with everybody? Why aren’t they more excited about all the booty in Portobelo?”

“The trouble is, Portobelo is also the most strongly fortified and defended city in the Americas right now,” said Rita.

“Really? What’s it like?”

“It’s situated on a river, a short distance inland from the river mouth. Every man in the fleet has probably heard about it.”

“Strongly fortified? In what way?”

“The harbor to Portobelo is guarded by three forts, one on each side of the entrance and one on a cliff overlooking the city. Any ships that sail within range of their cannons to attack will get smashed to pieces long before they can land;’

“Quiet,” said Jane. “They’re coming this way.”

“Have a look, mates,” called Captain Morgan, striding across the deck to the shoreward side of the ship. His captains and the buccaneers followed him. “Look down the coast to the south from here. Portobelo lies less than two days’ sail from here. When the men return from foraging this evening, we’ll have a fine supper. Then we’ll sail!”

Another chorus of cheers rose up, no stronger than before. Captain Morgan dismissed the captains, who boarded their longboats again to return to their ships. Then he saw Steve, Jane, and Hunter watching him. Rita had slipped around to the other side of the crates.

“So, Hunter,” said Captain Morgan with a challenging grin. “Are you as fainthearted as my other men?”

“I have every confidence in you,” said Hunter.

“Ah! That’s what I like to hear. Steve, what about you, then? What do you say?”

“I say that you know more about this than any other man afloat,” Steve said carefully. “But Portobelo will be tough to crack, won’t it?”

“Not so tough, mate. Well, I’ve told my captains what we’ll do, so it’s no secret now. We’re going to sail down to a creek I know of about twenty miles south of Portobelo. We’ll anchor our ships there, and sneak up on Portobelo inland.”

Steve glanced at Rita around the corner of the crates, out of Captain Morgan’s sight. She gave him a slight nod. He turned back to Captain Morgan.

“Inland, huh?” Steve said.

“Aye, mate. We’ll visit their back door.” Captain Morgan winked and strolled away.

Rita moved again, to remain out of his sight.

“Rita,” Hunter said quietly. “Do you know where MC 2 is now? Is he with the fleet at all?”

“I don’t know for sure,” said Rita. “But Wayne said I was a hostage. I asked him what he wanted with me and he said he would trade me to you in exchange for MC 2 and a promise not to interfere with him. He kept saying he didn’t want to hurt me. He only wanted his robot back.” She hesitated. “You know, when he and Captain Tomann first locked me up, Wayne was very forceful — he seemed to know what he was doing. The last time he talked to me, I got the feeling he wasn’t too sure anymore.”

Steve looked at Hunter. “So Wayne doesn’t have MC 2 yet. But MC 2 could be anywhere.”

“Maybe Roland has him again,” said Hunter. “Roland knows that MC 2 will follow his instructions. Maybe they are together on a ship in the fleet.”

“Rita, how well does this voyage go?” Steve asked. “Does Morgan do okay?”

“Yes, he does very well.”

“I am continuing to radio MC 2 occasionally,” said Hunter. “No response, of course, or I would have told you about it. Still, we should turn our attention to the Hungry Hawk again.”

“Do you want to swim over there and look for him?” Steve asked.

“No. The captains will be back on their ships soon. So will the foraging crews and I do not want to be caught sneaking around over there while you three are still on board here. We could all row there, but we might not find MC 2 on the ship after all. Then we would still have to answer to the buccaneers for our presence if they found us there.”

“They wouldn’t take kindly to that,” said Rita. “Treachery is common among buccaneers and they aren’t too patient when they believe they’ve found it.”

“I understand,” said Hunter. “For now, I will have to wait. I believe that my next opportunity will arrive when we anchor south of Portobelo.”

The foraging crews brought back as many birds and bananas as they could carry on the longboats, along with the kegs refilled with fresh water. On land, it would not have been a remarkable meal, but after a week on shipboard, the buccaneers considered it a welcome change. As the sun went down, they roasted the birds on deck. Captain Morgan broke out some carefully measured rations of the rum that had been kept in reserve. They ate and drank and sang, preparing themselves for the fight that would be coming soon.

Hunter, Steve, and Jane kept Rita away from the buccaneers at first. As twilight fell, and the buccaneers drank more, the team brought Rita closer to them. They shared quietly in the meal and none of the buccaneers took any special notice of Rita.

Hunter observed that Captain Morgan drank little himself and had served rum rations that were quite modest. The reason became clear later that night, when the captain used signal lanterns to order the fleet to sail on the night tide. The crew was in condition to respond, and Hunter saw the lights of the other ships follow them.

The voyage remained uneventful until the fleet anchored once again, two days later. They stopped off a jungle-covered coast that was little different from that of Costa Rica. As before, Hunter compared his internal map with the direction and speed of the ship and confirmed that they were off the coast of Panama.

The sun blazed low in the west. Captain Morgan gave orders to row supplies and crew members ashore in the longboats. Some buccaneers on every ship eagerly began lowering the boats. Others ran to fetch crates of weapons or kegs of gunpowder and shot.

“Hunter,” said Steve, quietly. “What shall we do?”

“I am radioing MC 2 again, but he is still not answering. I am not sure what to do. Rita, what will happen next?”

“Unloading all the ships will take several hours. Then Captain Morgan will leave a substantial rear guard camped on shore to protect the ships from any unforeseen threat. He will take the majority of the buccaneers north up the coast, to the mouth of a river. Portobelo is a short distance upstream on the river.”

“Our best move will depend on MC 2,” said Hunter. “If he remains on the Hungry Hawk, then we will have to go there. If he goes ashore, then we should too. Or maybe he is not with the fleet at all.”

“The Hungry Hawk is lowering its longboat,” said Jane, pointing. “Hunter, can you make out any individuals on deck over there?”

Hunter looked, magnifying his vision. Most of the crew was on deck, and two of the small figures by the rail were familiar. “Yes! I can see both Roland and MC 2. They are preparing to go ashore. We will do so too.”

“Let’s get to work, then,” said Steve. “I think our best chance to get MC 2 is coming up.”

The team joined the buccaneers who were loading supplies into longboats. As each longboat was filled, a buccaneer would sit down with each oar and begin rowing away. By then, longboats from all the anchored ships were heading for land.

Hunter and his team eventually took their turn joining buccaneers in the crew of a longboat. Hunter sat in the stern, with Rita next to him and Steve and Jane behind them. The waves were moderate, and the wind helped carry them as they rowed.

While Hunter drew on his oar, he kept an eye on Roland and MC 2 in the distance. He had not yet seen Wayne leave the Old Laughing Lady. Wayne, of course, might remain on board during the entire raid on Portobelo.

Soon Roland and MC 2 were also rowing toward shore as part of a longboat crew. Hunter saw that they would not arrive for several minutes after his own boat. Other buccaneers had already landed, beaching their boats and unloading them again.

When Hunter felt the bottom of the boat scrape the sand, he and the others jumped out into the surf to lighten the load. The buccaneers in the front took the bowline and pulled; Hunter and his team pushed the stern until the longboat ran aground again, this time in the breaking surf. As the water splashed all around them, they began to unload the crates and kegs.

When the longboat was empty, the crew pulled it completely out of the water and tied it securely to a tree with the others. Most of the buccaneers had broken into the kegs and were taking shares of gunpowder and shot for themselves. Hunter drew his team aside, unnoticed.

“Rita, I want your opinion about buccaneer values,” said Hunter.

“What do you mean?”

“Suppose that all four of us were to jump on MC 2, so that I can trigger our immediate return to our own time. Would the buccaneers join the brawl? If so, I would not be able to return us without the danger of taking some of the buccaneers, too. I cannot risk that.”

“I can’t tell,” said Rita. “They’re just too unpredictable. No ship captains have come ashore yet, so they aren’t here to give orders. And they’ve known Roland longer than they’ve known any of us.”

“Then we cannot risk rushing MC 2,” said Hunter.

“Hasn’t MC 2 seen you already?” Steve asked. “Won’t he just take off into the jungle when he lands?”

“I do not believe he has that choice,” said Hunter. “I am certain that Roland has once again taken over control of MC 2 under Second Law instructions. Since those override the Third Law imperative for MC 2 to save himself, he has to obey Roland rather than flee from us.”

“Wait a minute,” said Jane. “What if Roland hasn’t told him he can’t run away?”

“If he runs, I can catch him,” said Hunter. “It may be best for us if he does. In that event, you three should follow us as best you can. I do not expect a problem with your safety if you do not participate in assaulting Roland; in any event, I will be very close. Rita, turn on your lapel pin now so that I can hear whatever takes place around you. I will return if the First Law requires it.”

“All right,” said Steve. “Suppose you chase MC 2 into the trees and catch him. Then we have to catch up before the others do?”

“Yes. If we can accomplish this, then I will take all of us back to our time before the buccaneers come within the range of the belt device.”

“Roland just saw us all,” said Rita, switching on her pin. “He looked over this way.”

Hunter turned to look. Roland and MC 2 were now helping push their longboat through the surf to beach it. They were landing about twenty yards down the shore, on the other end of the growing line of longboats.

“We cannot surprise him now,” said Hunter. “Maybe I can distract Roland,” said Rita. “With your permission, Hunter.”

“Come on, Hunter,” said Steve. “Let’s go confront them.”

22

STEVE PLUNGED FIRST through the crowd of buccaneers who were preparing their weapons for the attack on Portobelo. A few of them glanced up, but paid no real attention to him as he passed. He didn’t know exactly what he was going to do, but he had worked with Hunter long enough to know that Hunter preferred to operate with a fixed plan, and they didn’t have one. Steve didn’t want to miss the chance to get MC 2 somehow.

Steve stopped on the edge of the water just in front of the longboat that was being pulled up. He stood with his hands on his hips, striking as belligerent a pose as he could. Roland looked up at him.

“Stay close,” Roland said to MC 2. He left the longboat, followed by MC 2, and waded toward Steve. The rest of the crew stopped struggling with the longboat to watch.

“Steve, what are you doing?” Jane whispered, coming up behind him.

“I’m not sure.” Steve spoke without taking his eyes off Roland. “Just tell Hunter to focus on MC 2.”

“I heard you,” Hunter said quietly, on Steve’s left. “You are not in danger?”

“You’ll be close, if I am,” said Steve. “Just get MC 2, will you? First things first.”

“And what do you gentlemen want?” Roland demanded. He waded out of the surf and stopped a short distance from Steve. Behind him, the rest of the longboat crew remained in the water, watching warily. “Something from me, may hap?”

Steve couldn’t think of anything to say.

“Roland,” said Rita, stepping forward. “We’ve been friends. Let’s talk about this.”

Hunter walked slowly around Roland, toward MC 2, who was still standing in the breaking surf.

“This is between us and your friend, there,” Steve said finally. “We aren’t concerned with you.”

“I happen to like Shorty, here,” said Roland, with a mocking grin. “He’s quite a friend. Very loyal and uncommonly strong for his size. Funny — he just loves doing whatever I tell him. Now what’s your business with him?”

Steve watched as Hunter suddenly leaped into the surf toward MC 2 and took hold of his arm. Roland saw the move belatedly and jumped away, toward Rita. Before Steve could react, Roland slipped an arm around her throat and whipped a dagger out of his sash with his other hand.

“None of you make a move!” Roland backed to one side, so that he could see Hunter as well as Steve.

“Stand back, Hunter.” Steve drew his sword. “The First Law says you can’t risk making him mad.”

Hunter hesitated, studying Roland carefully.

In the same moment, however, the other buccaneers from Roland’s longboat shouted and ran forward, drawing their swords or daggers. Hunter released MC 2, but both flung themselves at the buccaneers; they clearly had to save Steve and Rita from immediate harm, ignoring all other considerations.

“Roland!” Rita struggled to get free. “How can you do this to me?”

“Face me, coward,” Steve yelled. “Stop hiding behind her!” As he had hoped, Roland flung Rita aside, dropped his dagger, and drew his rapier. Behind Roland, Hunter and MC 2 had managed to trip or wrestle the buccaneers into the crashing surf, delaying them all without harming any of them. They had their hands full, however; Steve could not expect any help from them.

“Hah! Avast, then!” Roland sneered angrily, twirling his blade toward Steve.

The buccaneers from the other longboats had stopped their preparations to watch, but did not interfere.

Fighting down panic, Steve raised his own blade. He blocked a couple of feints from Roland, backing up with each stroke. Roland was quick and fluid.

“Stand and fight, yourself.” Roland laughed, feinting and slashing the air playfully.

Steve parried and backed up again. He was nowhere near Roland’s equal at fencing.

“Jane — now!” Rita yelled suddenly. She and Jane ran toward Roland from behind and simply tackled him. All three hit the soft ground.

Steve leaped forward and snatched away Roland’s sword with his free hand. Then, as Rita and Jane sat on his back, Steve placed the point of his sword against Roland’s nose. “Don’t move. Hunter! Can you get back here?”

Hunter rose from the water, holding a buccaneer in each hand by the waistbands of their knee breeches. He tossed them both down onto the rest of the crowd of buccaneers in the water, where they all rolled and tumbled in the breakers. Then he pulled out MC 2 by one arm. “Coming, Steve!” He strode out of the surf, pulling MC 2 after him.

“Let him up,” Steve said to Rita and Jane. They got up quickly. Roland glared at Steve, not moving. Hunter ran up to them with MC 2.

“Into the forest, out of their sight,” Hunter said on the run, passing them.

“Get up and back away,” Steve said to Roland, walking backward. “Don’t follow us.”

Roland hesitated, watching Hunter, clearly more afraid of Hunter than of Steve. The buccaneers who had been thrown into the surf by Hunter were stumbling out to collapse on the ground, sputtering and coughing. They had little fight left in them after being rolled in the breakers repeatedly.

Hunter rushed MC 2 into the dense tropical forest, glancing back over his shoulder to make sure that Steve was still in control of the situation. When Rita and Jane had run after Hunter, Steve finally turned and ran too. The trees and brush were so heavy that, in a few moments, the buccaneers were no longer in sight.

“Remain with us,” Jane said to MC 2, between hard breaths. “Make no attempt to interfere with our plans or escape from us. Acknowledge.”

“Acknowledged,” said MC 2.

“We have to hurry,” said Steve.

“Jane, Steve, Rita,” said Hunter. “Please drop anything you have that you acquired in this time.” He untied his sash and let it fall with the cutlass it held.

“What about the communicators we lost in the sea?” Steve asked, tossing aside the two swords in his hands. “We certainly can’t retrieve them. Are they going to be a problem?”

“Anything can be,” said Hunter. “However, they are unlikely to cause a problem. They lie off the coast of Jamaica and the salt and water pressure have probably destroyed them already. If they ever wash ashore, they will be nonfunctional debris.”

Steve nodded.

“I hear the others coming through the brush now,” said Hunter. “Roland has regained his courage. Is everyone ready?”

Steve gave him a quick nod. Jane and Rita had discarded their sashes and daggers. Hunter triggered the device that would return them to their own time.

Steve instantly found himself sitting in the same dark, confined sphere from which they had left, huddled against Hunter and Jane. They were back in Room F-12 of the Bohung Institute in Mojave Center. Hunter opened the unit and helped each of them climb out.

MC 2 got out and stood motionless next to Hunter, waiting for further instructions.

Ishihara was still standing in the room. “Welcome back, Hunter. You were successful, I see.”

Yes. Dr. Nystrom is not here?”

“No.”

“You were instructed to stop him.”

“He has not come here during the two minutes since you left,” said Ishihara.

“Really?” Steve looked at Hunter. “Maybe he’s timing his return for quite a while later.”

“He may have guessed I would have someone waiting here now,” said Hunter. “But this could be a problem.”

“Let’s get MC 2 safely joined up with MC 1 in your office,” said Steve. “Then we can worry about Wayne Nystrom.”

“Good idea,” said Hunter.

“We’ll change out of our period costumes first,” said Jane.

As before, they changed clothes in turn in the other room. Hunter called for a Security detail to drive them to MC Governor’s office. The trip was uneventful. Hunter closed the office door behind them and then turned to MC 2.

“You know MC 1 of course,” said Hunter.

“Of course.”

“Jane, please give them Second Law instructions to control them.”

“You will both do as Hunter says,” said Jane.

“Acknowledged,” said MC 2.

“Stand with MC 1.”

MC 2 did so.

“Well, that’s two of them,” said Steve. “Now what?”

“I’d like to say something,” said Rita.

“Go ahead,” said Hunter.

“I apologize for running off and fouling up everything. I wanted to see the sights and I didn’t think I would cause any trouble. But I romanticized my history — as a historian, I should never have done that. I was so excited about being back in that time and place that I … forgot myself. And I fell for Roland, I must admit. But in the end, he reminded me: he was just another cutthroat buccaneer, the product of a nasty, violent life. I guess my history has really come alive. Books can’t really do that. I thought they could, but they can’t.” She sighed, then shrugged helplessly.

“You still helped,” said Jane.

“That is true,” said Hunter. “And we were ultimately successful.”

“You and Jane saved me from Roland’s sword,” said Steve. “Don’t forget about that. Thanks — to both of you.”

“Well — you’re welcome.” Rita smiled awkwardly. “I think my role here is finished, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” said Hunter. “Thank you. Your fee will be paid in full.”

“Now, wait — I’m not sure I deserve it.”

“I will arrange it,” said Hunter. “If you and Jane had not saved Steve, we might all be back there even now.”

“Well — thanks. Goodbye.” Rita slipped out, closing the door behind her.

“Hunter,” said Jane. “Have you accessed the news again, like you did after our first mission? What happened to the nuclear explosion in Jamaica that occurred shortly before we left?”

“I have been monitoring the news,” said Hunter. “No mention has been made of any such event.”

“Ha! We did it!” Steve grinned.

“We have a new problem, however,” Hunter said soberly.

“What is it?” Jane looked at him in alarm. “Another one?”

“In the fifteen minutes since we returned, I have picked up preliminary reports of a nuclear explosion in Germany.”

“Oh, no,” said Jane.

“I have the coordinates that were used by all the component robots still at large,” said Hunter. “However, I feel we should take the German mission next. Explosions at other sites have not occurred yet.”

“Is this one in Germany more important?” Steve asked skeptically.

“All such explosions are very important, of course,” said Hunter. “However, the trouble may spread very quickly from this one. It has taken place in western Germany, just east of the Rhine, in a heavily populated area with advanced industry. Over the past centuries, a great deal of international animosity developed there, much of it leading to war. Right now, a few news analysts are concerned that terrorists may be attempting to disrupt world peace.”

“And because of the destruction, the First Law is pressuring you to handle this one now,” said Jane.

“Yes,” said Hunter. “As before, however, I must search for a historian familiar with the culture we will visit. In the meantime, I suggest that you two have a good dinner and a good night’s sleep.”

“Good idea,” said Jane. “Back in 1668, it was evening. That’s why I’m ready for dinner.”

“Me, too,” said Steve. “But drop the suspense, Hunter, and tell us — where do we go next? And when?”

“A place called Teutoburger Forest,” said Hunter. “In A.D. 9, during the golden age of the Roman Empire.”

Warrior

2140 A.D.

1

STEVE CHANG FOLLOWED Jane Maynard into the office of Mojave Center Governor, the gestalt robot who was supposed to be running the underground city of Mojave Center. Now the office was temporarily occupied by R. Hunter, the robot who had been specifically designed and built to lead the search for the missing Governor Robot.

“Good morning,” said Hunter. “I trust your breakfast was good.” He was already standing, six and a half brawny feet of humaniform robot in a northern European physiognomy now, with short blond hair and blue eyes, though he could change his shape and appearance at will. “Steve, Jane — this is Professor Gene Titus, our historian on the team for this mission.”

“Pleased to meet you both.” Gene was a tall, pleasant-looking man, only a little older than Steve, with bushy brown hair. He smiled broadly as he shook hands with them. “I’m a specialist in Roman history, especially the early imperial period. From what Hunter tells me, this trip we’re about to take should be quite an experience.”

“We’ve done two of them already,” said Jane. “There’s nothing like it.”

“Hi,” said Steve. He hung back a little, waiting to see what sort of guy Gene would turn out to be.

“So Hunter was telling me.” Gene turned to the weird object standing against the wall. “So these are two of the six gestalt robots we’re looking for?”

Steve said nothing. This was Jane’s specialty.

“That’s right,” said Jane. “Mojave Center Governor split into his six component robots and these are the two we have brought back from the past so far.”

“And so what is this, exactly?”

“This thing in front of us is what MC 1 and 2 look like, physically merged and shut down. If we get the other four back here to merge with them, we’ll have MC Governor put back together again. At that point, he’ll actually be humaniform.”

“Not ‘if’ we bring them back,” said Hunter soberly. “When we bring them back.”

Steve grinned. “That’s the right spirit. But, if you don’t mind my asking …”

“Yes?”

“You look kind of young to be a professor.”

“I just received my first position this year. My doctoral degree is so new, the ink’s wet.” He winked.

Jane laughed.

“I see.” Steve smiled too, pleased at Gene’s casual attitude. He had expected Gene to be a little more stuffy in his manner.

Gene turned to Jane. “Hunter has only started to brief me. You’re the roboticist?”

“That’s right.”

“Then I guess you can explain something to me. The Laws of Robotics must be dictating the robots’ behavior somehow, but I don’t quite see the connection.”

“Hunter, do you want to finish the briefing? Or does it matter?”

“Go ahead,” said Hunter. His manner was serious and direct, telling Steve that he did not want to waste time with unnecessary talk.

“The Third Law of Robotics says, ‘A robot must protect his own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Law,’ “said Jane.

“What about it?” Gene asked.

“MC Governor is one of a small number of experimental Governor Robots that were being tested recently. All the others have malfunctioned. The Governor Robot Oversight Committee, for whom Hunter is working, needs to get hold of MC Governor to find out what may have happened to them all. MC Governor has split into his component robots and fled. Without interviewing him, I can only surmise his reasons, but I believe that under the Third Law, he split to avoid experiencing the same malfunction as the other Governor Robots. Also under the same Law, I think he fled in order to avoid being dismantled during a study of the problem.”

“I see. So that’s why they fled to different times in history.” Gene nodded soberly. “I’ve already given Hunter my promise to keep the existence of time travel confidential. If time travel became widespread, history would be very vulnerable to all the people who might change it. But do the other Laws apply to the robots’ decision to flee?”

“Oh, yes. The component robots miniaturized themselves to microscopic size when they used the time travel device. Their intention was to avoid receiving any instructions from humans — in the case of MC 1, who went back to the dinosaur age, he was anticipating survival into the human era. The Second Law of Robotics says, ‘A robot must obey the orders given it by human beings except where such orders would conflict with the First Law.’”

“And if humans couldn’t see the robots, they wouldn’t give them any orders.”

“That’s the idea,” said Steve.

“Then what’s the problem?” Gene looked back and forth between Jane and Hunter.

“There are two problems,” said Hunter. “The first is that the miniaturization process was flawed. All the component robots return to full size at some point back in history, without their desire or control. When they do this, they begin to interact with humans. Since they have to obey human orders, they may change history. Even worse, their obedience to the First Law of Robotics might even guarantee that they will make certain changes.”

“The First Law says, ‘A robot may not injure a human being, or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm,’ “said Jane.

“Yes, I see the connection,” said Gene.

“I arranged hypnotic sleep courses in Latin and ancient German for Steve and Jane,” said Hunter. “In the case of German, we had to use a probable reconstruction of the language based on what our finest linguist robots could surmise. I assume it went well?”

“Adfirmo,” said Jane, smiling. “I affirm.”

“We won’t really know until we try speaking to the natives,” said Steve.

“Gene, were you able to use the lesson packages I sent you when we made our arrangements?” Hunter asked.

“Yes. I used them while I slept on the plane on my way here. The flight wasn’t as long as a good night’s sleep, but I concentrated on the German since I already had to learn Latin as part of my education.”

“Excellent. I have accessed these languages thoroughly myself. Now, then. I have arranged for a Security detail to take all of us to Room F-12 of the Bohung Institute. I left your clothing and lapel pin radios there during the night, after I received them from the robots who made them.”

“You still want me to review them for authenticity?” Gene asked. “You mentioned that when you first contacted me.”

“Definitely,” said Hunter. “Let us go.”

Hunter was deliberately keeping the tension he felt from the humans. The First Law imperative was driving him hard to get back into the past as fast as possible, but of course he knew that all of the team’s preparations had to be made first. Now, as he led the humans out of the office to the waiting Security vehicle, he opened his internal communication link to the city computer.

“Please contact all the members of the Governor Robot Oversight Committee in a conference call.”

“Acknowledged,” said the city computer.

Hunter felt that his responsibilities to the committee required that he report on the progress of his missions. However, he had not shared with them the fact that time travel was involved. If the ability to travel through time were to become widely known and used, the potential harm to humans would be immense. His judgment of how to follow the First Law in this matter therefore prevented him from explaining the details to the Committee. He also wanted to confer with them alone, so that the human members of his team would not mistakenly reveal the existence of time travel.

The team rode the electric cart silently down the broad, clean thoroughfares of Mojave Center. Around them, robots and humans pursued their daily routines, unaware that in the Bohung Institute, the first and only device for time travel was among them. The underground city, beneath the Mojave Desert in California, remained calm and safe.

“Have you briefed Gene about Wayne Nystrom?” Steve asked Hunter.

“Not yet,” said Hunter.

“That name is familiar to me,” said Gene. “Has he been in the news or something?”

“Not lately,” said Jane. “But from time to time, he has appeared in the scientific news because of his advances in robotics. He invented the Governor Robots.”

“Is he going to be joining the team?” Gene asked.

“I wish.” Steve grinned and shook his head. “He’s operating on his own, trying to get the component robots away from us. He wants to conduct his own investigation of their malfunction, without us.”

“His own? Is he able to go back in time, too?”

“Up to now,” said Steve.

“What do you mean?”

Steve looked at Hunter. “You know the technicalities better than I do.”

“I do not know all the particulars myself,” said Hunter. “However, Dr. Nystrom has appeared in the past during both of our previous missions.”

“Does he have a second time travel device?”

“No,” said Hunter. “The device we have all used was initially created by MC Governor, accomplished by modifying an existing piece of research equipment. The component robots all used it, and Wayne Nystrom followed them, preceding us. We were the last to use it.”

“You didn’t get hold of him when he returned to this time?” Gene was puzzled.

“No. On our first mission, I did not realize he was a factor in this project,” said Hunter.

“May I ask what happened, or is that prying?” Gene glanced at all three of the others, uncertainly.

“Of course you may ask,” said Hunter. “You are part of the team. I had Security robots guard the Institute and stationed a robot just outside the door. Wayne apparently returned from the Late Cretaceous to Room F-12 and quickly reprogrammed the console to send him back to the time of Captain Henry Morgan. That’s where we became aware of him next.”

“And now?”

“When we returned, I moved a robot named Ishihara to the inside of the room with orders to apprehend Wayne and to report to me when he appeared.”

“But Nystrom hasn’t come back?”

“No,” said Hunter.

“What about that, Hunter?” Steve asked. “Do you think he’s still back in Morgan’s time, in the 1600s? Now that we have MC 2 safely here, maybe we should go after Wayne.”

“He has no reason to remain there,” said Hunter. “And from what I can tell, our history has not been changed except in regard to the explosions. I believe he may have some other plan in mind that is beyond my anticipation for now. So our best plan of action is to continue our mission to recover MC 3, as planned.”

“Explosions?” Gene eyed Hunter carefully. “I caught a news item on my way here about a mysterious explosion in Germany — come to think of it, in the general area we’re about to visit. Is there a connection?”

“That is correct,” said Hunter. “When the component robots reach the approximate time from which they first journeyed back into the past — in other words, about now — they explode with nuclear force. This is caused by the instability in their atomic structure caused by the flawed miniaturization. The destruction to human life acts as a First Law imperative on me.”

“I get it,” Gene said grimly. “We have to go back and get that one right now. That’s MC 3?”

“You are correct again,” said Hunter.

All night, while he had prepared the clothing and new communicators for the team, he had monitored the news. Millions were dead in northwestern Germany, just east of the Ems River and the Weser River r in a heavily populated industrial area. The radiation was beginning to spread over most of Europe. Worst of all, some news analysts were concerned that terrorists might be attempting to disrupt world peace. Hunter feared that old, mutual fears and accusations by different nations could cause additional violence. The First Law required that he eliminate the cause of the explosion without delay.

The Security vehicle pulled up in front of the Bohung Institute. Hunter led the team silently inside the building, through the robot Security detail guarding it. He had arranged to shut down the Institute as soon as he had realized the importance of the experimental time travel device that MC Governor had created.

Inside, Hunter took his team to Room F-12 and introduced Gene to Ishihara. This large room housed an opaque sphere about fifteen meters in diameter. The remainder of the room was lined with countertops, most of them occupied with computers, monitors, a communications console, and miscellaneous office items. Clothing was stacked on one counter near the door to an adjacent room.

Ishihara passed out oral vaccines to the humans, which Hunter had chosen and requisitioned during the night. These vaccines could not guarantee protection from disease, because the modern microbes had mutated considerably in the millennia that had passed since Roman times, but Hunter knew they would improve the humans’ chances of avoiding serious illness. The humans took them immediately.

Ishihara waited impassively by the door. Everyone turned to Hunter for instructions. He pointed to the stack of clothing he had left earlier.

“Gene, please examine the clothing for authenticity,” said Hunter. “You will find tunics, heavy cloaks, and boots for male costumes; Jane has a full-length gown, cloak, and boots. If you pass them, Steve will look them over to make sure they are sturdy and practical enough.”

“And here are our new communicator pins,” said Jane, picking up small silver broaches. She held one out to Gene, showing him the button to be pressed to activate the radio. “We can use them to hold our cloaks on.”

“That is my intention,” said Hunter. “When the clothing has been approved, take turns changing in the adjacent room.”

Hunter received a message through his internal link. “City computer calling R. Hunter.”

“Hunter here.” While the humans examined their new clothes, he would have time to respond without disturbing them.

“I have the Governor Robot Oversight Committee on a conference call for you.

“Please connect me.”

Instantly, the four faces of the Committee members appeared on his internal video screen in split portrait shots. Everyone exchanged polite, perfunctory greetings. Then Hunter got to the point.

“I am pleased to report that MC 2 is safely in custody,” said Hunter.

“Excellent,” said Dr. Redfield, the pretty blonde. “Where did you find him?”

“In the West Indies,” said Hunter. He decided not to mention Jamaica, because that would set a precedent of being specific. Being vague with the Committee was the only way to avoid having to tell them, sooner or later, about the time travel device. “He is well, but has been instructed to merge with MC 1 and shut down. They are in a secure location.”

“You’ve been very efficient,” said Professor Post, scratching his black beard thoughtfully. “Do you know where you will find your next quarry?”

“I have a lead in Europe,” said Hunter.

“Where?” Dr. Chin moved a strand of her long black hair away from her face. “Which country?”

“I do not have an exact location,” said Hunter. That was technically true, since he had not yet heard a report on ground zero of the explosion and the coordinates he had obtained from the console of the time travel device did not match those of any known town or city. Still, he was aware that he was very close to telling them an outright lie.

“You have found the first two component robots in only a few days,” said Dr. Khanna. “What is your estimate for completing your assignment?”

“I would be unwise to predict that I can apprehend each of the remaining component robots in only one day,” said Hunter. “Matters have proceeded well so far, allowing me to move quickly. Still, the first two pursuits were quite different and I expect the remaining four to be very unpredictable as well.”

“I understand,” said Dr. Khanna.

“I’m sure we’re all very impressed with your efficiency so far,” said Dr. Redfield.

“I should begin the next mission,” said Hunter. “If you have no more Questions, I shall get started.”

“Of course,” said Professor Post. “Good luck.”

Everyone signed off.

2

AFTER GENE INSPECTED each item of clothing, he passed it to Steve. Then Steve held it up, shook it loose, and tugged at the seams. Hunter had explained that they were going to a forested mountain area in autumn, the rainy season in northern Germany. They would need warm clothes. The cloaks and outer tunics were made of wool, while the undertunics were made of linen.

“Yours are fine,” said Steve, handing Jane her outfit. She went to change first.

All the clothes passed inspection. When everyone had changed, Hunter passed each of the humans a small leather pouch filled with common Roman coins from the era to which they were going. All the communicator pins were in place, fastening the humans’ cloaks at the neck.

“Well, Gene,” said Jane. “I know you said the clothes are authentic — but how do we look?”

“You look perfect,” said Gene. “As a matter of fact, you will look right at home in the mountains of central Europe in this period.”

“We shall masquerade as traveling merchants,” said Hunter, adjusting his own long brown cloak. Since his radio links were internal, he fastened his cloak with an ordinary silver pin. “I shall be somewhat vague in order to avoid being tripped up in a small mistake, but r shall present us as visitors from Roman Gaul seeking trade in silverwork with the German tribes across the Rhine.”

“You have some?” Gene asked.

Hunter pointed to a leather bag, sitting on a counter where the clothing had been. “Each item inside is a relatively inexpensive piece of jewelry that I shall present as samples and gifts. None is authentic, but I had some of the robots here in Mojave Center develop them last night from authentic models. The metallic content and style of art and design are accurate. I believe that their presence in Roman Germany will not cause any alteration of history or culture. Gene, please look them over and see if you agree. Steve, the leather bag has a shoulder strap so you can carry the jewelry in it conveniently.”

“Come to think of it, Hunter,” Steve said with a grin, running a hand through his black hair, “that works for you three just fine. When we come into contact with Romans or Germans, how are you going to explain having someone of East Asian descent with you? We better have our story straight about who I am.”

Hunter looked at Steve. His boots, tunic, and cloak were certainly acceptable, but he was right that his Chinese features would stand out in ancient Germany. “Gene, what do you suggest?”

“Well …” Gene thought a moment, looking up from the jewelry box. “You know, even though Rome had no official contact with China, some Roman merchants were aware of Han Dynasty China. They traded through the Parthians for Chinese silk and sold it to the wealthiest Romans. So maybe Steve could be a slave who accompanied his merchant owners through the Parthian Empire with a load of silk and then was sold.”

“Okay.” Steve laughed. “If that will hold up with the Romans, it’s good enough for me.”

“Very well,” said Hunter. “Gene, what do you think of the silverwork?”

“It looks fine to me,” said Gene. “I’m not a specialist in Roman art as such, but I certainly don’t see any glaring problems.” He closed and latched the box.

“Good.” Hunter looked at each of them. “Unless you have questions, I believe we are ready to go.”

“This way.” Steve picked up the leather bag. Then he slung the bag over his shoulder and moved to the big sphere that dominated the room. It was a solid metal globe fifteen meters in diameter. First he helped Jane and Gene climb inside. Then he followed, sliding down into the curved bottom with them.

Hunter set the coordinates and the timer on the console. When he had finished, he hoisted himself inside and closed the sphere. For a long moment, the team sat crowded together in the dark.

Steve felt himself land on hard, rocky ground. He pushed himself up and saw that Hunter, Jane, and Gene were doing the same. They were on a steep, grassy slope, in a dense forest. The leaves were an autumn blaze of orange, red, and yellow. Overhead, the sky was cloudy and gray. Steve smelled rain. Far below, he could see a gray river winding its way between the bluffs on each side of it, reflecting the subdued sunlight.

“Is that the Rhine?” Steve asked.

“The Weser River,” said Hunter. “The Rhine is well west of here.”

“This is quite a view.” Steve got to his feet. The forest was full of both evergreens and hardwoods. “Well, Hunter? Where do we go?”

“We shall have to explore some,” said Hunter. “In all likelihood, MC 3 will return to normal size out in the forest somewhere, which is most of the surrounding territory. According to the history I accessed through the city computer, the German tribes have a mixed economy, based on tilled fields, cattle, and hunting. Each tribe has a number of separate villages. Gene, does that match your information?”

“Yes, it does.” Gene got to his feet and helped pull Jane up. “Generally speaking, they will be the ones who actually know the forest and routinely move through it.”

“What about the Romans?” Jane straightened her gown. “They’ve conquered this area, as I understand it. Why aren’t they going to be in the forest, too?”

“The Romans haven’t really been here very long,” said Gene. “They don’t have a settled presence here, with families and merchants. All they really have is an army of occupation. They’re outnumbered and limited in the range of territory they actually walk or ride through. In most cases, they will only march out in a troop large enough to defend itself.”

“Come on, Hunter,” said Steve impatiently. “Which way do we go?”

“I believe that friendly contact with the Germans will most likely facilitate our mission,” said Hunter. “According to what you have said, Gene, do you agree?”

“Yes, I do,” said Gene. “And they shouldn’t be hard to locate. Instead of looking for them, I think that if we simply start hiking, then warriors, hunters, or sentries of the Cherusci tribe are likely to find us.”

Hunter nodded and began to hike up the slope, eastward away from the Weser, pushing through thick branches. Jane and Gene followed in single file over the rocky ground. Steve deliberately took up the rear. After all, he had to look like their slave.

“Hey, Gene,” Steve said, as they continued up the uneven slope. “Is all the country here this rough?”

“Most of it. This province goes east to the Elbe River and west to the Rhine. We’re in the middle of it here. It’s very mountainous, and many of the valleys are swamps. It includes part of modem Westphalia.”

Up ahead, Hunter stopped at a small, level clearing. The three humans caught up to him. Steve could not see or hear any reason for them to have halted already.

“Nine humans are nearby,” Hunter said quietly. “They are moving quietly, without speaking, ahead to our right. From the sound of their movements through the brush, I believe that they are still unaware of our presence. However, this is the contact we want.”

‘We don’t want to be mistaken for deer and shot,” said Steve. “Should we start talking loudly or something?”

“We shall start using Latin,” said Hunter, switching to that language, “to support the idea that we have just crossed over from Gaul. Stay close and keep talking.” He started walking again.

“Do you see anything yet?” Jane asked, trying out her own Latin.

“Specto,” said Hunter. “I am looking. So far, I can only hear them. They are still at a distance that is beyond human hearing, but they are drawing closer.”

The forest was dense, with thick underbrush and many fallen logs blocking their way. In the rare patches of direct sunlight, the air was warm, but most of the ground was shaded by the canopy of trees. Steve’s cloak kept snagging on branches until he got used to keeping it pulled tightly against his body. In the lead, Hunter, because of his height, found the going slow as he worked his way through the tree branches. Every so often, Gene leaned over and freed Jane’s cloak from a snag.

“Veni, vidi, vici,” muttered Steve. “I’m a slave from foreign parts. It’s understandable if my Latin is bad, right?”

“Yes, it is understandable,” said Hunter, pushing through some thick pine branches and holding them back for the others. “But we should not be overheard speaking English unless we simply cannot communicate our point to each other without it. Do continue talking, however.”

“Keep talking,” Steve said cheerfully, in Latin. “Talk so they know we’re human and not tonight’s dinner. What shall we talk about?”

“Gene,” said Jane. “Exactly who are these Germans, anyway? Who’s about to find us?”

“They’re barbarian warriors,” said Gene. “Semipastoral nomads, technically. Right now, they aren’t really very different from the Gauls across the Rhine, but they will be.”

“Hunter, are they any closer?” Jane asked. “You’ll hear them before we will.”

“I think they have heard us,” said Hunter. “The pattern of their footsteps is changing. They have begun to spread out some as they approach us.”

“Gaul on one side of the Rhine and Germany over here,” said Steve. “France as opposed to Germany. That’s centuries in the future, though.” He stepped over a thick, exposed tree root. “Right?”

“Yes and no,” said Gene. “Their divergent history has already begun. A generation ago, Julius Caesar established the Rhine River as the border between Roman-held Gaul and the land of the independent German tribes across it. In 9 B.C., the younger stepson of Caesar Augustus, a man named Drusus, invaded the land across the Rhine and pushed the border eastward to the Elbe River because it’s a more defensible border from the Roman side. That’s the territory where we are now.” He paused to point out a slippery, moss-covered rock to Jane, who stepped over it.

“So it’s a Roman province,” said Steve.

“Well, so far. A Roman named Publius Quinctilius Varus is governor right now. He considers the province thoroughly subdued and is overconfident — to say the least — of his power.” Gene held another branch back out of the way for Jane and Steve.

Ahead of them, Hunter had stopped for a moment, looking around carefully. “They are very close,” he whispered in English. “I also hear the sound of small animals, probably hunting dogs.” He began walking again.

Steve could not hear any sign of the other people. “Dogs? Why aren’t they barking and howling and coming after us?”

“They’re well trained,” said Gene. “To flush game sometimes and to sneak up quietly at other times.”

“Simply remain calm,” Hunter said in Latin, this time in a normal tone. “Continue our conversation if you wish. Lower your voices, though, if you go on discussing history. We do not want to give our friends ideas they do not already have.”

“Not much chance of that,” said Gene. “These events are already in motion.”

“What do you mean that this is a Roman province ‘so far’?” Jane asked Gene.

“The province doesn’t stay Roman very long,” said Gene. “A German prince of the Cherusci tribe, called Arminius, has been granted Roman citizenship. He’s been dealing with Varus in this new province, representing the Cherusci. In fact, the entire tribe has been given the privileged position of a federated state within the Roman Empire. For this reason, many of the Cherusci have Latin names, like Arminius himself.”

“But what happened to the Romans?” Steve ducked under another low branch, hurrying to keep up. He looked around for the Germans that Hunter could hear, but still saw no direct sign of them. Then he noticed some birds suddenly fluttering out of a tree a short distance away. He realized that they might have been disturbed by humans walking near them.

“This year,” said Gene, “Arminius leads an uprising against the Romans. The Cherusci Germans and some allied tribes ambushed Varus in the Teutoburger Forest, destroying him and his entire army. The Roman border will be pushed back to the Rhine until the Empire falls completely. As a result, Gaul will be culturally and linguistically Romanized to a degree that Germany never will be.”

“What of it?” Steve demanded. “I mean, the Roman Empire was huge. This one province couldn’t have meant that much to the Romans, could it?”

“Not to the living Roman Empire,” said Gene. “But think of it this way. If this province had remained within the Roman Empire, then maybe more of Germany would have been conquered by the Romans. When the Roman Empire collapsed, the Germanic tribes that helped bring it down might have been culturally Latinized and much more like the tribes in Gaul, which became France, than the Germany of our history. The history of the new Germany would have been extremely different forever after, altering major world events in many different centuries.”

“So the real difference would came later,” said Steve. “I see.”

“When was the ambush in Teutoburger Forest?” Hunter asked.

“It —” Gene stopped as an arrow whistled in front of Hunter and hit a tree trunk.

3

HUNTER STOPPED IMMEDIATELY. He heard the humans on his team halt behind him. No one spoke.

Nine strange young men stepped into view. Some appeared in front of the team, while others moved out of the trees on each side. Black and gray dogs stepped out with them, their noses quivering. Hunter was alert for violence, the First Law dominating his thoughts.

None of the Germans was as tall as Hunter, but they were heavyset muscular men wearing fur tunics and leather leggings. All had long, shaggy hair. Most were blond, while a few had red hair. Each of them held a long, heavy spear. They carried bows on their shoulders; quivers of arrows and long knives hung on, their belts.

Hunter waited patiently, neither speaking nor moving. A tall, hulking German with bushy red hair and a full beard that matched stepped up in front of Hunter. In addition to his weapons, he carried some sort of steer horn on a thong over his shoulder. While his companions held their spears ready for action, he rested the butt of his spear confidently on the ground. He looked over Hunter with quick blue eyes.

“Hail, strangers,” the German said stiffly in Latin. “I am Vicinius, of the Cherusci. Who are you?”

“Hail, Vicinius,” said Hunter. “I am called Hunter, but we are not hunting today. We seek the Cherusci tribe in friendship. You can see that we are unarmed.” He turned and introduced the humans on the team by their first names.

Vicinius nodded politely to each of them, though his eyes widened slightly in surprise at the introduction of Jane. None of his companions lowered their spears. They did not smile or speak, either. Steve glanced at one who was glowering suspiciously at the group.

“You seek us?” Vicinius asked. “Why?”

“We come seeking friends with whom to trade,” said Hunter. “We have only a few poor samples of gifts today, but now we seek friends for the future.”

“Where are these gifts?” Vicinius glanced at all of them. “I see no packhorse.”

Steve unslung the leather bag from his shoulder, expecting Hunter to call him forward.

“This is a poor place to talk,” said Hunter. “May we find a spot that is more comfortable?”

Vicinius had glanced at Steve when he had shifted the leather bag, so the question about the presence of gifts was answered. Steve now realized that Hunter was angling for an invitation back to the home village of these hunters. Holding the bag uncertainly, he said nothing.

Vicinius seemed to understand Hunter’s meaning, as well. He looked over the group again, appraising them. His companions waited for him to speak.

“Hunter,” Gene said quietly, switching to English so the Germans could not understand. “I suggest some warrior-bonding. Compliment his weapons and his skill at arms. If he offers you a chance to show off, do well but don’t embarrass him. And try speaking German to him.”

“You have fine spears,” said Hunter politely in German. “Your companions are all very fit.”

“You speak our language.” Vicinius smiled for the first time, looking Hunter in the eye again, and some of his companions murmured among themselves in surprise.

“We all speak it to some degree,” said Hunter. “Vicinius, we have heard that the men of the Cherusci tribe are great hunters and warriors. As traders, we are impressed by this reputation. Would one of your party be so kind as to demonstrate this skill with weapons?”

Vicinius grinned in appreciation of this compliment, and so did some of his companions. He turned and looked around among the trees for a moment. Then he hefted his spear, reared back, and heaved it through the air.

The big spear flew among the leafy branches, somehow missing all of them, and struck a tree trunk about thirty-five yards away with a loud thunk.

Hunter estimated the weight of the spear from its appearance and the sound it had made striking the tree. The distance and the size of the target alone were not particularly impressive, but he could see that in this throw, Vicinius’s challenge had been to throw the spear through the dense forest without hitting the many tree branches and underbrush that would have deflected the weapon from its target. He had accomplished the maneuver perfectly.

“Will you throw?” Vicinius gestured for one of his companions to offer a spear to Hunter.

Hunter accepted the spear. He wanted to make a good impression on these hunters and warriors but he remembered Gene’s warning not to embarrass their host. Hunter carefully raised the spear and threw it at the same tree.

Hunter’s spear also flew straight, missing all the surrounding branches, and struck the same tree trunk. However, it hit just below the first spear. The other warriors nodded their appreciation of his throw but said nothing.

Vicinius, however, laughed aloud. “Excellent! You must be a fine hunter.”

“I have come to trade, not to hunt,” said Hunter, in what he hoped was a modest tone of voice.

“And your friends?”

“Traders as well.”

Vicinius nodded, looking them over again. He pointed to another of the warriors. That man also took a broad stance and cast his spear. It, too, sailed among the dense leaves and branches to strike a different tree trunk. He turned and grinned at Vicinius and Hunter.

“Very impressive,” said Hunter.

Vicinius pointed to another warrior, then nodded toward Gene. The other man tossed his spear vertically to the surprised historian.

Steve stifled a laugh. “Good luck, Gene.”

“I’ll need it,” said Gene, grinning. He moved up next to Hunter, where he had more open space, and carefully gripped the spear. “Well, I don’t know about this.”

“You can do it,” said Jane.

“I wonder.” Gene took a deep breath and imitated the stance he had seen the warriors take. Then he clenched his teeth and threw the spear.

It flew forward but, halfway to its target, the shaft of the spear grazed an overhanging branch and glanced off to the left. It fell out of sight in the underbrush.

All the Germans laughed. So did Steve. Gene shrugged, still smiling.

This time a warrior stepped up without bidding from Vicinius. He threw his spear as well, striking another tree near the first two that had spears hanging from them. The other warriors, now much more relaxed than they had been at first, cheered good-naturedly.

Another warrior tossed his spear to Steve, who caught it with his free hand.

“Uh-oh,” said Steve, grinning as he set down the leather bag between his feet.

“You can’t do much worse than I did,” said Gene. “Go ahead. We’re only traders, after all.”

“Hey, I’m only a slave.” Steve reared back like the others and threw the spear. It, too, clattered against some tree branches halfway to its target and fell out of sight. The warriors laughed, as did Jane and Gene.

Several of the warriors ran to fetch the spears.

“Don’t I get a throw?” Jane asked, looking around at the other warriors.

“I’m afraid not,” said Gene. “It’s a cultural matter with them.”

“Well, I probably wouldn’t do any better than you two, anyway,” said Jane.

“Those things are heavier than they look,” said Steve. “I didn’t know it was so hard.” He picked up the leather bag again.

“You three have spirit,” said Vicinius.

‘We have more spirit than skill,” said Hunter. “However, I thank you for the game.”

“It is well,” said Vicinius. “You said you were traders from Gaul?”

“That is right.”

“In what do you trade?”

“Silverwork.”

“Silver, eh?” Vicinius glanced at the leather bag. Then he looked at Hunter’s face for a long moment. “Please come to our village. It is not far. You will be my guests.”

“Thank you.” Hunter knew that bringing strangers back to the village was an important decision. Vicinius might also be more cautious than usual because of the tension between the Romans and Germans now. However, the reason for his hesitation did not really matter.

Some of the other German warriors had already gone to fetch the spears. Then Vicinius waved once and turned to lead the way through the forest.

Hunter followed him, remaining back a short distance to stay with his team. They were much slower than the Germans. As they picked their way through the forest, Steve was the most surefooted.

“Hunter,” Jane said quietly in English. “Something has occurred to me about the component robots.”

He waited for her to come up next to him. Then they walked together. “What is it?”

“I simply can’t believe that they have chosen when and where to go in the past purely by chance.”

“You feel they have specific motives behind their choices?” Hunter asked.

“They must,” said Jane. “Random flight would have taken them to many parts of the world, far from the centers of historical focus.”.

“Why did MC 1 choose to go to what would become Alberta in the Late Cretaceous?”

“I have no way of knowing about that,” said Jane. “But Sir Henry Morgan was a historical figure, even though a minor one. And MC 3’s flight to the border of the Roman Empire just can’t be an accident.”

“Why do you feel this way?”

“In both Morgan’s time and especially now, most of the world was not well documented historically. The vast majority of land area is outside historical record. And most of the land within historical record does not have anything very significant occurring at any given time. For some reason, MC 2 and 3 chose to be in the area of recorded human history, even while intending to remain microscopic.”

“They represent only two of the six component robots,” said Hunter.

“I thought of that. As a roboticist, I was intrigued by this mystery, so before breakfast this morning, I got on the city computer. I found out that when MC Governor did certain tasks with the city, he sometimes delegated them to his component personalities.”

Hunter turned to her in surprise, holding a pine branch out of the way for her. “How did you learn that?”

“I asked for any information that might help identify the component robots’ separate abilities, tendencies, or personalities.” She took the branch from Hunter and in turn held it for Gene.

“I see,” said Hunter. “I was focused on MC Governor as an integral individual first, who split up. I did not think to approach the component robots as individuals while MC Governor was still functioning.”

“I found out that MC 1 specialized in the environmental impact of Mojave Center on the surrounding area,” said Jane. “MC 2 specialized in general troubleshooting for MC Governor. MC 3 handled security concerns for Mojave Center. I’m sure these match up in some way with the places they chose to go.” She stepped over a large, fallen tree trunk and caught her cloak on a short branch.

“What about the other three component robots?” Hunter stopped to pull her cloak free.

“I don’t recall. I left my notes with my regular clothes back in Room F-12.”

“You believe that these specialties reflect their choices of where and in what time period to hide?”

“Yes, even though they intended to remain microscopic forever. It may be a subliminal influence of their specialties, rather than part of their deliberate, rational thought. But if I can figure out what kind of influence MC 3’s specialty, for instance, had on him, I might have a shortcut for finding him here.”

“You say that MC 3 handled security matters for Mojave Center,” Hunter said. “This strikes me as irrelevant to his presence here. Do you have any guess as to where he might be now, or where he would go here, with this information?”

“No,” Jane said. “Not yet.”

The Germans quietly led the way through the forest. Hunter saw that they were still carefully watching the birds in the trees and stopping occasionally simply to listen. The dogs, too, were on the alert. He decided that they were still hoping to find prey for dinner, even on their way home.

Dr. Wayne Nystrom squatted next to a cold, fast-flowing stream in the forest. He drank some water out of his cupped hand and wiped his hand on a patch of grass. Then he shivered in the chilly breeze and looked around at the trees. A few birds chirped and twittered in the branches. Otherwise, the forest looked the same in every direction.

“I’m freezing,” he muttered to himself. He stood up and slowly turned around again, hoping to see a sign of human life somewhere. The view, however, was the same now that he was standing as it had been when he was squatting.

Wayne had been lost ever since his arrival here. All he knew about his location was that he was some-where in the German forest east of the Rhine in A.D. 9. He had no idea where to find human habitation.

Only a few hours ago by his own time, but seventeen centuries in the future from this year, he had taken some time to tinker with his belt unit. This was the device that he carried to trigger the time travel sphere back in Room F-12 of the Bohung Institute. In working with it, he had learned that it could control the settings in the console of the sphere even when he was in another time. This occurred during the early stage of its function, just before the sphere picked him up to move him through time. Instantly, he had realized that he could use this capability to his own advantage.

First he had used the unit’s controls to slow down the action of the device. This had allowed him enough time to monitor and read all the records inside the console that ran the sphere. Since these records contained each setting that had been used so far, they told him where all the other component robots had gone. At the time Wayne read them, Hunter and his team had not used the sphere since going to Jamaica in 1668.

Based on when each of the component robots had left its own time, Wayne had judged that of the remaining component robots still at large, the one here in Germany was due to explode the soonest. Guessing that Hunter would try to capture him next, Wayne had also picked this location. If at all possible, he wanted to grab MC 3 and study him here in this time, before Hunter could take him back.

He had arrived safely, but moving directly from Jamaica in the summer of 1668 left him unprepared for life in this forested mountain area in central Europe. The water in the stream was clear and certainly untouched by industrial pollution, but finding food in this northern forest was going to require more work than buying tropical fruit in Port Royal, Jamaica. Worst of all, without heavier clothing, he might not survive the night. He was not sure how cold these mountains would get at night.

Rubbing his arms, he stood up and looked around. All he could do was start walking. He chose a direction at random and began to pick his way through the underbrush.

“Somewhere across the Rhine in A.D. 9,” he said quietly. In the solitude, he liked hearing the sound of his own voice. However, he was not a historian and did not know much about what would be happening nearby. He only knew that he was in Germany in Roman times.

He had smelled the faint odor of woodsmoke for several minutes before he suddenly realized what it meant. In these times, of course, open fires were the principal means for cooking and keeping warm — though in a forest, the odor of smoke could also mean a forest fire. However, this smoke was too faint to present an immediate danger. Encouraged, he followed the scent.

4

AS THE TEAM followed Vicinius and his warriors up the forested slope, Steve and Gene fell into step behind Hunter and Jane. They took turns holding branches back for each other and pointing out the best way to climb over fallen logs or large, exposed tree roots. Their cloaks repeatedly snagged on twigs and had to be freed.

On the team’s first mission, their paleontologist had taken a haughty, condescending attitude toward Steve. During the second mission, their historian had run off with a local pirate. Steve knew that it was unfair to blame Gene for what the others had done, but he could not help being circumspect toward him.

Soon Vicinius had led everyone to a narrow trail, where the walking was much easier. Nearly an hour passed on the trail before Steve heard small children shouting and dogs barking. By then, he could also smell smoke from the village fires. The sun was low, behind the trees to the west.

“Vicinius,” said Hunter, as the village came into view ahead. “Is this the village of your Prince Arminius?”

“No, Hunter.” Vicinius shook his head. “Arminius lives in another village not far from here.”

The village was nestled into a small clearing. From the tree stumps, Steve could tell that the tribe had used the trees they had cut down to build rough huts, which were jammed together in a crude circle. Children came running to welcome home the warriors, and in the center of the village circle, women tended cookfires. He was surprised to see that there were only a few horses, hobbled just outside the village.

“First we shall eat,” said Vicinius. “You will be guests at my mother’s fire.”

“We thank you,” said Hunter.

Around them, everyone was turning to look at the strangers. The children came running up to them, while the village elders walked forward slowly, studying them. Vicinius waited for only one older man to come forward. He was a stocky man, slightly short er than Vicinius, but white-haired and bent forward with age.

“Father, these are traders in silver from Gaul,” said Vicinius. “This one is called Hunter.”

“Welcome,” said the old man. “I am Odover, the village chief.”

“We are pleased to meet you,” said Hunter.

Steve suddenly realized that the children, all of them either blond or red-haired, were staring at him. Some were making jokes to each other and laughing; others were just watching him. Odover, too, had just noticed him.

“Who is your companion?” Odover asked Hunter. “His name is Steve,” said Hunter. “He comes from a far land beyond the Parthian Empire to the east.”

“You are welcome,” Odover said to Steve. Then he turned and waved for the other villagers to make way for them. They backed away at his bidding.

Steve felt a little self-conscious under the stares of the villagers, but none of them actually approached him. Odover and Vicinius took their guests to the cookfire in front of one specific hut and gestured for them to sit down around it. They did not introduce the elderly woman tending the fire or the two younger women stirring an iron pot of stew that was boiling over it. The women looked up at the strangers curiously but did not speak.

Looking around, he counted twelve huts. They were made of narrow, vertical logs lashed together. Cracks between them had been filled with mud and straw. Around the huts, a narrow perimeter of land had been cleared of trees. In parts of the perimeter, green crops that he could not identify grew in rows.

The stew smelled good to Steve. It obviously had meat and vegetables in it, but he had no idea what kind. He waited to see what would happen next.

“First we shall eat,” said Odover. “Then we shall talk.” He waved to a young boy, who ducked into the hut. A moment later, the boy came out with a large, earthenware jug cradled in both arms. He gave it to Odover, who passed it to Vicinius.

Vicinius pulled a wooden plug from the jug with his teeth and drank from it first.

Steve was surprised. He was accustomed to guests receiving the first offer of food and drink. Next to him, Jane glanced at Gene in puzzlement.

“To prove it’s safe,” Gene whispered in English. “When strangers meet in this time, it’s a courtesy to share the same container and for the host to eat or drink first to show that nothing has been poisoned.”

“Our mead is a humble drink,” said Vicinius, giving the jug to Hunter. “Arminius has some good Roman wine from Gaul, but this is all we have in this village.”

Hunter accepted the jug and drank from it. “Thank you. It is quite good.” He passed it to Steve.

Steve took a slight drink. He found the mead had a heavy flavor and was stronger than he had expected. Swallowing hard, he gave it in turn to Jane.

Steve suddenly realized that as Jane took a drink from the jug, both Vicinius and Odover were blinking at her in surprise. The women at the fire also turned to look. None of them spoke, however, and she merely passed the jug to Gene.

“They’re surprised because they consider this to be a ceremonial drink,” Gene said quietly in English. “Their women will eat dinner separately, but they will allow us our little quirks, apparently.”

“Good,” said Jane.

Soon the women at the fire were ladling stew into earthenware bowls and handing them out. Odover poured more mead into individual cups and shared them. Then the German women took their own stew elsewhere.

Steve tasted his steaming stew. The meat, which was stringy beef, had been boiled tender. The lightly salted stew was not bad.

“They have salt beds near here,” said Gene quietly. “Of course, they won’t get pepper here for many centuries.”

“It is good,” said Hunter, to their hosts.

Vicinius nodded his acceptance of the compliment. “You traveled far today?”

“Yes,” said Hunter. “It was not difficult, but it was quite a long way.”

“How did you cross the river from Gaul?”

“Fishing boats,” Gene said quickly. “A couple of fishermen carried us across.”

“From the other side? A fishing village of Gauls is upstream some distance, but it is quite far.”

“Vicinius, perhaps you can help us with a problem,” said Hunter, changing the subject.

“How can I help?”

“We are searching for an acquaintance who is lost in the forest somewhere.”

“Really?” Vicinius was startled. “If he is lost, he may be in danger. The forest is cold at night.”

“We have completely lost him,” said Hunter. “We do not even know where to look.”

“You should have told me sooner,” said Vicinius, with concern. “We could have searched for signs of him on our way back to the village.”

“He is a small man, rather slender. Perhaps we can look for him tomorrow.”

Vicinius nodded, still looking at Hunter with a puzzled expression. “You seem very calm for a man who is searching for someone. I don’t understand.”

“He’s a little weird,” said Steve quickly. He felt that Hunter needed some help in his charade about what MC 3 was really like. “We want to find him, but we don’t know where he’ll go or what he’ll do. He’s unpredictable and may not even have any clothes to wear. His name is MC 3.”

“An odd name,” Vicinius agreed.

“Yes.” Gene leaned forward. “He may be, shall we say, touched by the gods.”

“Ah!” Vicinius nodded his understanding. “Yes, I see. Touched by the gods.”

“A little crazy,” Gene muttered in English. “Or mildly retarded. But harmless.”

“I understand,” said Hunter quietly. “This is related to their beliefs in some way?”

“Yes. Many preindustrial cultures view mildly retarded or crazy people as having the special protection of the gods,” said Gene.

“I shall spread the word through the village tonight, after we have finished dinner,” said Vicinius. “No one will harm a man who has been touched by the gods. Sooner or later, someone will find some sign of him.”

“Thank you,” said Hunter.

By the time they had finished dinner, night had fallen. Most of the light now came from the waning cookfires, though some families had raised flaming torches near the fronts of their huts. Steve waited patiently as more mead was poured, wondering when he should open the leather bag.

“We must give our new friends our gifts,” said Hunter finally. “You have been very hospitable.”

Taking that as a cue, Steve pulled up the leather bag and opened it.

“One at a time,” Gene said quietly. “Hand them to Hunter, as our representative. Hunter, first give the largest item to Odover, the village chief. Give him the second largest, too, and then we’ll see how they respond.”

Steve felt around inside the bag for the largest object. When he pulled it out, he discovered that it was a serving bowl with handles and feet in the shape of flowers and leaves. He gave it to Hunter.

Hunter took the bowl in both hands and stood up to present it to Odover. The village chief received it while still sitting. He looked it over carefully, nodding as he turned it to reflect the yellow firelight.

“It is very fine work,” Odover said finally. His voice was nonchalant, but he kept looking closely at the bowl, still turning it.

Steve could see that Odover was very impressed. The German just didn’t want to admit it too openly. Steve took the next object out of the bag. It was a long, thick armband with a stag’s head in deep relief. He had to stand in order to give it to Hunter, who in turn offered it to Odover.

The village chief grinned broadly this time, revealing some missing and broken teeth. He slipped the armband over his upper arm and turned to see the firelight reflect off it. “Ah, very good. Very good.”

Steve pulled out the third item, which was a large, circular pendant shaped like a bear, hanging on a heavy silver chain. Hunter started to hand it to Odover, as well, but the village chief pointed to Vicinius, instead. So Hunter turned and gave it to the seated warrior.

“This is very fine work,” said Vicinius, accepting the pendant. For a moment, he looked carefully at the bear, smiling. “Yes, perhaps it will bring me the strength of a bear.” He looped the chain over his neck and then looked down at the pendant lying against his chest. “It is a fine gift.”

Steve felt one item remaining in the bottom of the bag. It was a small box with a hinged lid. Trees were shaped in relief on the lid. As he handed the box to Hunter, he felt something slide inside the box.

“Something’s inside it,” he said to Hunter. “Better take a look.”

Hunter opened the lid. Steve could see three rings inside the box. One had a tree on it, one had a fish, and the last had a wolf. Hunter turned the box toward Vicinius and held it out to him.

Vicinius took it, nodding, and placed the box on his lap. He said nothing, but his eyes widened with approval. First he gave two of the rings to Odover, then slipped the one with the wolf on his own finger. He closed the lid and ran his hand over the shapes on top of it.

“We are only poor traders,” said Gene. “Our gifts are small and few. Please forgive us for not bringing better ones.”

“It is beautiful work,” said Vicinius. He gave the silver box to his father.

Odover nodded as he examined it. Then he leaned toward Vicinius and spoke quietly in his ear. Vicinius stood up and walked away into the shadows.

Just outside the circle of firelight, many of the other villagers had gathered to watch. Steve could see women standing there, often surrounded by children with pale blond hair. Other warriors also surrounded the fire of the village chief, curious about the strangers.

Odover said nothing, waiting patiently for Vicinius. He held the box and the bowl on his lap, looking at them as he studied the decorative shapes on them. No one spoke.

Finally Vicinius walked back to the fire with two warriors. His companions carried bundles of furs.

Vicinius held four spears bundled in his arms along with a long, straight dagger.

Odover simply gestured silently toward Hunter.

“We have only the worst gifts for our new friends.” Vicinius rested the spears on the ground and signaled for his companions to bring the furs forward.

“Refuse at first for the sake of modesty,” Gene whispered. “Let him press the gifts on us.”

“Your generosity is not necessary,” said Hunter. “You have already been excellent hosts.”

“We welcome you to our village,” said Odover. “Please accept our humble gifts.”

“You are not dressed for our mountain life,” said Vicinius. “We have fur tunics and cloaks for all of you.”

Hunter accepted the first bundle of furs and passed it to Steve. Then Steve set down the bundle and shook out the top article of clothing. It was a long, hooded cloak of rich brown fur, much warmer than anything the team was wearing.

Steve handed it to Gene and picked up the next one. This cloak, with similar fur, was shorter. He gave it to Jane. The longest, of course, he saved for Hunter. The robot was not as susceptible to cold as the humans, but the garment would be part of his masquerade. Steve swirled the last cloak in the bundle over his own shoulders. He was warm enough by the fire now, but he could feel that this cloak would make a big difference.

“They are fine furs,” said Gene.

Hunter shook out the second bundle. These were calf-length tunics similar in size to those the team was wearing, but made of deerskin. “You are very kind,” Hunter said.

“The spears, of course, are for you to hunt or defend yourselves. This dagger is for her.”

Hunter passed each weapon to Steve, who handed a spear to Gene and the dagger to Jane.

“This has been a good day,” said Vicinius. “In times to come, we will have more furs. You will always be welcome in our village.”

“Thank you,” said Hunter.

“It has grown late,” said Vicinius. “You shall be guests in one of our huts. Please come.”

“Warm clothes and a place to sleep,” said Steve. “We can’t beat that.”

5

AS THE SUN went down, Wayne began to shiver uncontrollably in the brush outside a barbarian village. In the twilight, he had watched the villagers stir their dinners over their fires. He had even heard one tall, hulking man addressed repeatedly by the Latin name “Arminius,” though the rest of the language was completely beyond him.

He was hoping that perhaps after everyone went to sleep, he could sneak into the village and find some old clothes to steal, along with some leftover food. All evening, a light but cold breeze had blown the smoke and the scent of cooking meat to him from the village.

He watched the fur-clad people in the village as they slowly covered their fires and put out their torches. They were retiring into their huts for the night. The wind shifted slightly, no longer blowing in his face but from behind him.

Suddenly a dog in the village, its nose twitching, turned toward him. It began to bark, and ran in his direction. In a moment, every dog in the village was barking furiously, following the first one. Shouts rose up from the villagers.

Belatedly realizing that the dogs had caught his scent, Wayne turned and tried to run. He stumbled through the underbrush, crashing into tree branches in the darkness, his legs stiff from the cold. He flailed through the leaves and pine needles as he heard heavy footsteps and barking dogs close in on him.

Strong hands grabbed Wayne from behind as young men shouted to each other in a harsh, guttural language. He felt himself yanked backward, his arms pinned behind him. Then he was marched roughly back through the woods toward the village.

Hunter and his team accepted a hut for the night in the village of Odover. At Vicinius’s bidding, the young family to whom it belonged had vacated it to share a hut that belonged to some neighbors. Hunter moved his sleeping pallet, made of pine boughs covered with a soft deer hide, so that it blocked the door of the hut.

“Are you afraid of something in particular?” Steve asked, as he arranged his own bedding.

“No,” said Hunter. “This is just a precaution.”

“Aren’t we intruding too much?” Jane asked. “I mean, under chaos theory, displacing an entire family here means that we’ve interfered.”

“Vicinius just wants to stay on the good side of rich Roman merchants,” said Gene. “Besides, this was his idea. We would be more disruptive if we refused their hospitality.”

“Anyhow, we know now that chaos theory isn’t right in its most extreme form,” said Steve. “Hunter, you admitted that after our first two missions.”

“Correct,” said Hunter. “It is now clear that our presence in the past in and of itself does not cause significant changes. Nor does consuming small amounts of food and water and interacting with the local people. However, I must remind all of you that at some point, more significant actions that we take might truly change the future.”

“How much would we have to do to create permanent change?” Gene asked. “I mean, sure, if we assassinated an emperor, the change would be pretty big, I suppose.”

“A greater danger would be introducing new technology,” said Hunter. “This is why I made certain that the silverwork we brought was consistent with this time and place. But to answer your question, I do not know where the threshold of creating permanent change begins. So we must still try to avoid unnecessary changes as much as possible.”

“The Romans have to be ambushed in Teutoburger Wald.” Gene nodded grimly. “I understand.”

“Did our gifts impress them?” Jane asked. “They didn’t seem all that excited to me.”

“Definitely,” said Gene. “That reserve is part of their negotiating; they don’t really want to let on just how valuable they consider decorative gifts of silver. But their return gifts are the proof.”

“Furs, spears, and a dagger?” Steve sounded skeptical. “Aren’t those just routine belongings for them?”

“Yes and no,” said Gene. “Furs represent all the effort and danger of a hunt. And the spears all have metal tips. The Germans still get most of their metal from the Romans right now. If you look around the village tomorrow, you’ll see that swords are very rare and that most of the spears simply have fire-hardened wooden points, with no metal at all. Giving us metal-pointed spears and offering a dagger to Jane were a great honor and sacrifice for them.”

“They don’t even have any horses to speak of,” said Steve. “Just a couple. Is that normal? Doesn’t everybody ride horseback in this time?”

“No,” said Gene. “It’s a question of wealth. They know how to breed and train and ride, of course. But these German tribes are only beginning to accumulate herds of horses. By the time of Emperor Constantine the Great, in a few more centuries, German mercenary cavalry will be the finest in the Roman military. Another century after that, they will bring down the Western Roman Empire, roughly everything west of the Balkans. But that’s still in the future.”

“They’re hoping we’ll bring more silver later,” said Jane. “But we aren’t coming back. That’s going to be disruptive. Won’t they feel we betrayed their friendship?”

“Not with the battle of Teutoburger Forest coming up,” said Gene. “After that, they’ll just figure we were scared to come back, or prohibited by the Roman authorities.”

“We must also consider Wayne,” said Hunter. “I have been thinking about his disappearance. I now suspect that Wayne has the same information I have for finding the fugitive robots, taken from the console of the sphere.”

“We left Ishihara in Room F-12 to nab him,” said Steve. “That sphere is the only time travel machine he has. He’ll show up there sooner or later.”

“I have considered the situation,” said Hunter. “He may have met trouble in Jamaica, in which case he may never return to our time. However, he may also have learned to move from one time period to another without returning to Room F-12 between trips.”

“Can he do that?” Jane asked.

“I have not risked altering my own device to find out,” said Hunter. “However, I have thought about the design of the controls in both my unit and also in the console itself. Theoretically, it may be possible.”

“Why don’t you find out for sure?” Gene asked.

“The First Law prevents me from taking the risk of harming the unit,” said Hunter. “As long as you are with me here in this time, I do not dare take it apart. Perhaps when we return home again, I shall examine it carefully.”

“So you really believe Wayne may be here,” said Jane. “Or about to arrive.”

“I believe it is a realistic possibility,” said Hunter.

“Then we’ll have to look for him, too,” said Steve. “I’d like to nab the guy once and for all. These missions would be a lot easier without him interfering. We could take him home and lock him up or something.”

“That would pose a legal problem,” said Hunter. “We can arrange to detain him without harm in this time, if we catch him. We cannot imprison him at home without becoming guilty of kidnapping. Nothing he has done on these missions to the past can be used against him without revealing the existence of time travel.”

“Not to mention the question of legal jurisdiction,” Jane said wryly. “Would a court in, say, California in our century indict him for kidnapping Rita in the Caribbean in the seventeenth century? I wouldn’t count on it.”

“All right,” said Steve. “So we take him home and simply guard Room F-12 so he can’t get near the place. That would do, I guess.”

“I have another worry,” said Hunter. “MC 3 may already be full-sized and active in one of the Roman forts on the Rhine, where Governor Varus lives.”

“Varus has three legions, I believe,” said Gene. “The Romans, might be fairly close to this village. We could separate, to see if MC 3 is with them.”

Steve laughed.

“I don’t think Hunter will go for that,” said Jane.

“No?”

“We have had problems in our earlier missions when we separated,” said Hunter.

“Then why did you give us these lapel pin communicators?” Gene asked. “You must have anticipated some need for them.”

“We may have to separate at some point,” said Hunter. “Or we may become separated by events beyond our control. For now, however, we shall not separate unnecessarily.”

“Got it,” said Gene. “But in that case, what will our plan of action be?”

“When exactly was the battle in Teutoburger Forest?”

“I don’t have a date,” said Gene. “I’ve never seen the exact day mentioned in the records. A historian named Dio Cassius wrote the most precise account of the event. But it was in the fall, so we aren’t too far off the mark. Since the villagers here have no particular concern over our origins in Roman Gaul, I would say it hasn’t happened yet.”

“Hold it,” said Steve. “If you don’t know the date, then what are we doing here?”

“We did not come to this time specifically for the battle,” Hunter reminded him. “I calculated that MC 3 would return to full size about this time. The battle is just my biggest concern. If MC 3 tries to prevent it under the First Law, he may change history in the way we discussed earlier. Gene, do you think the battle is coming up soon?”

“Yes, I would say so. Winter weather comes on early in these northern mountains. Autumn is fairly short.”

“Tomorrow, I shall ask Vicinius to take us on a search for MC 3,” said Hunter.

The next morning, just after dawn, the team rose, wearing the warmer tunics and cloaks their hosts had given them. The sky was overcast and the surrounding trees were lost in fog. Vicinius greeted his guests around the cookfire again, wearing his new silver pendant around his neck. Odover also joined them again, his silver armband glistening on his arm. Breakfast was a gruel made of various seeds and forest vegetation. Steve found it tolerable, but not as good as the meaty stew had been the night before,

“Vicinius,” said Hunter. “I know this is the rainy season, but it has not begun to fall today. We would like to search for our lost friend.”

“Of course,” said Vicinius. “My friends and I had poor fortune on our hunt yesterday. Today they must tend the village cattle, but I will take you through the forest. Maybe I will find some prey today.” He picked up his spear and slung the strap of the steer horn over his shoulder again.

Steve was glad to have the heavier clothing as Vicinius led the team out of the village along a well-worn path. Jane wore her new dagger in her belt and the others all carried their spears. Some of the children and dogs in the village ran alongside them for a while, but they eventually returned home.

“Where are we going?” Steve asked. “Hunter, we aren’t just going to wander all over the mountain at random, are we?”

“What do you suggest, Vicinius?” Hunter asked. “Where should we look first?”

“Along the river,” said Vicinius. “He will need water. And if he is hungry, fishing will be easier than hunting. His tracks will be clear in the mud, too.”

Steve allowed Vicinius to move up a little on the trail, then lowered his voice and switched to English. “Jane, is MC 3 going to care about going to the river? A human needs food and water, but a robot doesn’t. Are we going to be wandering off to the river for nothing?”

“I don’t know. You’re right that the component robots get their energy from the tiny solar converters in their skin. But they do need small amounts of water to replace their simulated saliva and sweat.”

“I just don’t want to go all the way down to some river for nothing.”

“I think we have to,” said Gene quietly. “Vicinius’s argument is sound from his point of view. Unless we get some specific clue as to MC 3’s whereabouts that we can show him, we can’t reasonably refuse to go along with him.”

Steve nodded and hurried after Vicinius and Hunter.

As the morning wore on, the fog gradually lifted over the treetops. The sky remained gray and dark, however, and drizzle fell intermittently. They all raised their hoods against it. Steve was more glad than ever that he had the fur cloak, with its residual animal oils, to keep the dampness off him.

Suddenly Vicinius stopped up ahead. He stood motionless, staring across a ravine into the distance. Hunter joined him first, then the others caught up.

Steve moved around Hunter to see what they were looking at. In the distance, a line of soldiers was marching along a mountain road. At the rear of the line, he could see horse-drawn wagons. Each soldier wore armor and a helmet with a bright red crest. A short distance past them, Steve could see a bend in the river. Even he knew that they were Roman legionaries.

“Their camp is not far,” said Vicinius casually. “We will go around it to reach the river.”

“They build a fortified camp every night,” said Gene.

“Where are they going?” Hunter asked.

“Roman business,” Vicinius said shortly. He pushed on down the trail, ignoring the Romans.

Steve looked at Gene in surprise. He definitely had the feeling that Vicinius knew more about the Romans than he was telling. Gene merely shrugged.

The trail wound down the mountain slope. The Weser was often visible through the trees below. Steve could see birds in the trees, but he only heard small animals fleeing from them in the underbrush.

They had almost reached the edge of the forest down in the river valley when Vicinius stopped abruptly again. This time he pointed to the ground. Steve hurried forward, hoping to see the small footprints of MC 3. Instead, he found animal tracks in the soft ground.

“Wild boar tracks,” said Gene.

“Yes,” said Vicinius. “They are a challenge to hunt and kill, but the meat is very fine.” He grinned. “And the tracks are fresh.”

“How can you tell?” Jane asked.

“The shape is very clear, meaning that the drizzle hasn’t had time to blur the edges,” said Steve.

“It is very near,” said Hunter. Vicinius looked at him in surprise. “I see no immediate sign of it.”

“I hear it digging in the soil,” said Hunter. “It has not noticed us yet.”

“They have no fear,” said Vicinius, still looking at Hunter. “Your hearing must be very good.”

“We have no experience as hunters,” said Hunter. “We shall remain here out of danger if you wish to pursue it.”

Vicinius nodded, adjusting his grip on his spear. He crept off the trail into the brush, following the tracks. Even Steve could see the trail of trampled weeds and broken branches the boar had left.

“What if it hurts him?” Gene asked Hunter. “He wouldn’t have found these tracks if he hadn’t been taking us down to the river. Haven’t we altered his plans?”

“Yes,” said Hunter. “Stay here.” He followed Vicinius, also moving quietly and hefting his spear into position to throw it if necessary.

“It’s a difficult choice for him,” said Jane. “Ordinarily, the First Law tells him not to change history — if a boar is going to injure Vicinius, he should allow it. But if we’re responsible for creating the danger, the First Law is open to some interpretation about what he has to do.”

Suddenly a loud snorting reached them, and Vicinius whooped, taunting his prey. Steve heard the snapping of twigs, branches, and underbrush. Gene hurried after Hunter.

“Watch it!” Steve yelled, following him into the trees off the trail.

Jane joined him.

The boar had trampled a small clearing for itself a short distance in front of Hunter and Vicinius. It looked huge to Steve; he had never seen a wild boar, and this one was at least as big as the biggest modem hog he had ever seen. This boar, however, was a shaggy dark brown instead of pink, and it sported long, curved tusks curling forward from its face. With fast-moving eyes, it warily watched its tormentors.

6

VICINIUS SLOWLY AND carefully crept to his right, his spear held high. Hunter stood motionless, his spear also ready to throw. The boar made a snuffling sound and feinted, but did not charge.

Gene paused a safe distance behind Hunter.

“Do not participate,” Hunter said over his shoulder. “Please back away.”

Gene moved back and stepped behind a large tree.

“Come on.” Steve took Jane’s arm in his free hand and pulled her back out of sight. “Hunter will take care of them.”

“I didn’t doubt it,” said Jane, in an annoyed tone. “But we could watch.”

“I don’t want Hunter to argue with me. This is our chance, while the First Law has him occupied. Let’s go.” Still pulling her arm, he started back up the trail.

“Stop it!” She yanked her arm free. “Are you crazy? Splitting up just gets us all into more trouble. Haven’t you learned that by now?”

Behind them, Vicinius was still whooping and calling the boar, teasing it.

“What if MC 3 is with the Romans? They aren’t far. We saw them on this side of the river. And we both know that Hunter will just give me an argument. Vicinius probably won’t want to visit them and Hunter can’t just abandon him. So we should go, while Hunter’s busy.”

“I can’t believe you want to do this, after all the trouble we’ve had before.”

“I don’t have time to argue. You coming or not?”

“No.” She glared at him with her clear blue eyes, challenging him.

“See you later.” Steve turned and hurried on down the trail. He would walk along the river until he could see either the Roman legionaries or their camp.

“Steve!”

“Yeah?” He turned to look.

“All right, I’m coming.” She hurried up alongside him, her fur cloak swirling. “But I want one promise from you.”

“What is it?”

“After we get away, we’ll radio Hunter and tell him we’re okay.”

“I don’t want to —”

“Or else I’ll yell to him right now.”

“All right.” Steve couldn’t help grinning. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Vicinius was still baiting the boar with his calls and shouts. That meant Hunter’s attention was still riveted by the First Law imperative. Gene had not noticed Steve and Jane’s departure, either. They hurried down the trail.

They reached the edge of the forest quickly. Steve turned to his right and started hiking along the edge of the trees. Jane kept up, looking behind them every so often. They couldn’t hear anything.

“If Hunter had noticed that we left, he would have yelled or something,” said Steve. He looked at the river, which looked narrow and calm under the gray sky. “I’ll bet it’s running real fast, up in the mountains like this.”

Steve and Jane kept up a good pace. Light rain began to fall again and they moved under the canopy of trees, pulling their cloaks tight around them. They had heard no sign of Hunter.

“This should be far enough,” said Jane, stopping. “Let’s radio him.”

“All right.” Steve halted and switched on the radio in the small pin on his cloak. “Hunter, this is Steve.”

“Steve, I have been calling you and Jane,” Hunter said promptly. “Is she with you?”

“Yes. We hadn’t turned on our radios. How are Vicinius and the wild boar?”

“Vicinius killed it. What happened to you?”

“We’re fine, Hunter. I want to go see if MC 3 is with the Romans and I knew Vicinius wouldn’t want to go. We’re going, Hunter.”

“We should remain together.”

“Sorry, Hunter. We’ll contact you again later. Maybe we’ll have MC 3 with us when we do.” Steve shut off his communicator again, so that Hunter could not argue with him.

“He could follow us,” said Jane. “We’ve left a real easy trail in this damp ground.”

“He might,” Steve said slowly. “Hard to say. Certainly we can’t outrun him if he wants to join us.”

“He won’t want to leave Gene behind,” she pointed out. “He can’t go faster than Gene.”

“Good point. And Vicinius will want to get the boar back to his village. He can’t carry it alone and Hunter won’t reveal that he can, either.”

“Can they carry it together? All three of them?”

“Maybe. If they do, that will delay them for a long …” He was interrupted by the sound of a horn. It came from the direction where the boar had been.

“What was that?” Jane jumped in surprise.

“Vicinius’s horn,” said Steve. “The one he’s been carrying on a strap.”

“What’s he doing? Calling his warriors?”

“I guess so. Or maybe the women of the village and the older men, too. They could bring a pack animal for the boar.”

“Does that mean Hunter is free to follow us?”

“Maybe. But let’s just go and see if he catches up to us or not.” Steve started walking again.

“I just don’t want to do what Rita did to us on the last mission, when we had to spend all our time trying to find her instead of looking for MC 2.”

“We aren’t doing anything like that,” Steve said testily. “Come on, Jane. She was just out seeing the sights, adventuring on her own. You and I are looking for MC 3 and we’re still in touch with Hunter.”

“Well, we can’t risk changing history, either. We’ll have to be more careful than usual without Hunter around to remind us.”

“Even Hunter has changed his mind, remember? Back in the dinosaur age, he thought that almost any action could change the future drastically. That hasn’t proved out at all.” He looked at her, blinking drizzle out of his eyes.

“Yes, I know.” Her tone told him that she had run out of arguments, whether she was convinced or not.

Soon, up ahead on a nearby slope above them, Steve could see part of the twisting mountain road that the Romans were using. The wooden palisade of the Roman camp was visible on a ridge and the last of their wagons was just driving through the open gate. Getting to the road would require a tough hike, but at least their route was clear.

In the middle of the afternoon, under a light drizzle, Marcus Gaius Aemilianus had just finished supervising the unloading of the wagons inside the Roman camp when he heard a voice calling to him.

“Tribune! Over here, Tribune!” One of the sentries standing at the gate was waving his arm. The gate was open very slightly. “We have visitors.”

Marcus frowned. Unexpected visits from the Germans here were rare. However, this was his first assignment as a tribune and finding out what they wanted was one of his duties.

Mid afternoon was late in the day for traders. They usually finished their business in time to return home before sundown. Puzzled, he turned, causing his red cloak to swirl behind him, and walked quickly to the gate.

“What is it, Flavius?” Marcus asked.

“This lady is from a trading family in Gaul,” said Flavius, indicating a woman with long, straight brown hair standing in a fur cloak just outside the opening in the gate. “She has become separated from her party and seeks shelter.”

“Good day,” said Marcus. “I am Marcus Aemilianus, tribune and personal aide to Governor Publius Quinctilius Varus of this province. You must be in need of shelter.”

“Yes, we are.” She spoke Latin with an odd accent. “I am Jane Maynard and this is my slave, Steve.”

“You are welcome, of course.” Marcus stood back and gestured for her to enter. He had expected to see her slave carrying baggage of some sort. Flavius closed the gate behind the two visitors. “You have no belongings with you?”

“No. We, um, were out looking for another friend of ours and got lost. So when we saw you up here, we decided to ask for your help.”

“I am glad to be of service. In this new province, taking care of civilians is a serious duty for those of us in the Roman army. Come inside with me, out of this constant drizzle.” He began to walk with them, back toward the officers’ tent.

He took another glance at her slave. “Where are you from? Not Egypt?”

“No,” said Steve, with an easy grin as he walked a step behind Jane. “From a distant land called ‘Sina.’”

“Sina.” Marcus shook his head.

“Have you seen any other strangers?” Jane asked. “I mean, neither German nor Roman.”

“This would be the other friend you were seeking?”

“Yes.”

Marcus shook his head. “No. But sit down with me and I will have wine warmed for us. You may describe him to me.”

Hunter only told Vicinius and Gene that Steve and Jane had gone ahead, without elaborating. However, he had lost several hours by the time the villagers came to fetch the boar that Vicinius had killed. Vicinius blew his horn at intervals to make sure they could follow the sound. Then, while they waited, Vicinius set to work cleaning and quartering the boar. Hunter and Gene helped, taking direction from Vicinius.

Finally, several of the older men arrived with two old packhorses. Vicinius arranged for the quarters of the boar to be lashed to the horses. Then, at last, he turned to Hunter with a big smile.

“That boar will feed the village for days. My friends who were with me yesterday will wish they had been free today, instead.”

“It was a very dangerous quarry,” said Hunter. “You are indeed an excellent hunter. Are we ready to continue on our way?”

“Of course,” said Vicinius cheerfully. “We will go along the river.” He picked up his spear and slipped past Hunter. “Come on.”

Hunter and Gene followed him. When they reached the edge of the trees, Vicinius ignored Steve and Jane’s footprints, which turned to the right in the soft earth. Instead, he marched straight out across the narrow flood plain to the edge of the rushing water.

“I would like to rejoin Steve and Jane,” Hunter said courteously, coming up alongside Vicinius.

“This is where the footprints of your other friend will be,” said Vicinius. “Along the water. But if he approached the river from upstream, then Steve and Jane might cross his tracks coming or going from the forest. We must move downstream to look for his tracks there.”

“I am concerned about Steve and Jane,” said Hunter. “Our party should be together.”

Vicinius turned to look upstream in the distance. The wind blew his long, shaggy hair from his face. “The Romans are nearby. If you wish, I will search downstream for you and sound my horn if I find any sign of your friend.”

“Maybe we can go downstream for a little while,” said Gene. “We have a lot of daylight left. We can go after Steve and Jane later.”

“Agreed,” said Hunter. He felt some internal stress from the First Law, but Steve and Jane seemed safe for the time being.

Vicinius moved down the bank quickly, hopping from rock to rock, over exposed tree roots. He wasted no time, glancing quickly at the mud or soft sod near the water. Hunter had no trouble keeping up, of course, but he repeatedly waited for Gene to find his way over the rough ground.

Over their heads, Hunter saw the sun only as a slight glow behind the gray clouds. Hunter calculated how much time they would have to reverse direction, catch up to Steve and Jane, and return to the village. After more than an hour had passed, they had seen animal tracks leading to the water but no human’s tracks.

“I have found something,” Vicinius said suddenly. He crouched near the edge of the water.

Hunter stood over him, magnifying his vision to examine the details of several partial footprints.

“They are unusually small,” said Vicinius. “And he is barefoot. This matches what you told me.”

“Yes,” said Hunter, as he identified the footprints. “These are the footprints of MC 3.”

“Really?” Gene leaned down to take a good look, leaning on his spear.

“He’s moving downstream,” said Vicinius, standing up. “Come on.”

“What about Steve and Jane?” Gene asked.

Hunter looked at the sun again. “If we are going to catch up to Steve and Jane in time to return to the village together, we have to reverse direction now.”

Vicinius looked at him in surprise, waiting.

“What do you want to do?” Gene asked.

“The footprints are sharp and clear,” Hunter continued. “MC 3 made them earlier today, since the intermittent drizzle has not had time to dull their edges or wash them away.”

“Yes, of course,” said Vicinius.

“We shall catch MC 3 first,” said Hunter. Finding MC 3 was a more pressing First Law problem than rejoining Steve and Jane, who appeared to be in no particular danger. He followed Vicinius, and signaled Steve and Jane on his internal transmitter. They did not answer.

7

WAYNE LAY ON the ground in the German village in the drizzle. The previous night, he had been grabbed by the villagers amid a great deal of shouting and arguing and roughly dragged back to the middle of the village. In the midst of all the yelling, he had only made out two words. One tall, hulking young man was named “Arminius” and seemed to be in charge. He called out to a slender, wiry young man named “Julius” and then walked away from the crowd of villagers around Wayne, uninterested.

When they had realized that Wayne could not understand any of what they were saying, Julius yanked his arms around a tree trunk, then lashed his wrists together with rawhide thongs. Leaving him out in the rain and cold, the villagers had gone to bed in their huts.

The village dogs barked at Wayne and sniffed around him at first, but soon lost interest. He had not slept, exactly, but he had dozed from exhaustion even as he shivered. The next morning, in the early dawn light, he discovered that he had been lashed to a tree trunk next to the village refuse heap. Only the cold kept down the smell of rotting waste.

Most of the villagers had ignored him as they went about their morning routine. Julius and a few of the other warriors had given him a curious glance, but no more. Some of the children had poked him with sticks to see what he would do, but they, too, had lost interest when he had just stared at them.

Afterward Wayne had spent most of the day quietly straining at the leather thongs. He had quickly noticed that the untanned leather binding his wrists was absorbing the steady drizzle that was falling. When he pulled, no matter how much it hurt his wrists, the thongs stretched slightly. The more they stretched, the thinner they became, and he gently rubbed them against the rough tree trunk in a sawing motion. The rawhide thongs were much weaker than finished leather.

He had given up any hope of escaping the village by running away. All he wanted to do was reach the control unit on his belt. To survive, he would have to risk going back to Room F-12 in his own time.

As the gray, overcast day slowly darkened into evening, Jane sat primly on a rough wooden bench in the governor’s tent. With an amused smirk, Steve was standing attentively behind her against the wall of the tent. Demetrius, the governor’s elderly personal Greek slave, who had served dinner, stood behind the governor and Steve had decided to imitate him.

Governor Publius Quinctilius Varus was hosting her as the guest of Marcus, his aide. The other Roman officers were eating in a separate tent. Steve, as Jane’s personal slave, was expected to remain in her company.

“You were very fortunate to find us,” said Governor Varus. He was in his early thirties, with short brown hair. His heavy woolen tunic looked very warm and comfortable. “These barbarians would not know how to behave with a lost lady from Gaul.”

Jane smiled politely and picked daintily at the piece of roasted fowl in front of her. It smelled very good, and lay on an engraved gold plate, but she was so tense that her appetite was gone. She was anxious not to say anything that would ruin their masquerade.

“Oh, you need not be too fearful,” said Governor Varus. “They know their place. The power of my great-uncle has been made clear to them often enough.” He smiled confidently and raised his engraved golden goblet of wine.

“Your great-uncle?”

“The governor is married to the grandniece of Caesar Augustus,” said Marcus.

“Oh. Um, congratulations.” Jane felt her face grow hot, wondering if she should have known that already.

“He is a fine man,” said Governor Varus. “His confidence in appointing me was a great honor.” He frowned at Jane’s plate. “Is the dinner not to your liking?”

“Oh, no, it’s fine. I’m, uh, just talking too much.” She picked up a piece of meat and bit into it.

“Tomorrow I shall see that you are reunited with your party,” said Governor Varus. “After all, I cannot have you wandering about unescorted in these rugged mountains.”

“Thank you,” said Jane. She wished that Steve would join the conversation, but she did not know exactly what the etiquette was concerning slaves. Earlier in the afternoon, Marcus had made small talk with her over mulled wine and she had been comfortable with him. Still, she remembered how their historian on the Jamaican mission, Rita, had caused a great deal of trouble by befriending a young buccaneer.

“She is also searching for a lost friend,” said Marcus. “I told her that I knew of no one of his description.”

“Oh? And who is your friend?” Governor Varus gestured slightly with one hand, and Demetrius stepped forward with a pitcher to refill his goblet.

“Well, he, um …”

“May I?” Steve asked quietly over her shoulder. “Oh, yes. Please explain.”

“He is called MC 3,” said Steve, with more courtesy in his voice than Jane had ever heard before.

“Eh?” Governor Varus laughed and looked up at Steve. “What kind of a name is that?”

“We don’t know. He is a slave from a far land, touched by the gods.”

“Ah! I see.” Governor Varus sipped his wine. “So he is not likely to find his way in the forest on his own.”

“No, probably not,” said Steve. “But he is very cooperative. And no threat to anyone.”

“And he ran away?”

“No,” said Steve quickly.

“No? Then what happened? You were all on horseback, weren’t you?”

“Well … we lost our mounts.”

“You what?” Governor Varus raised his eyebrows mockingly, and caught Marcus’s eye.

“I needed a private moment,” said Jane. “In the woods. That’s why I dismounted.”

“That’s right,” Steve said quickly. “I dismounted, too, and MC 3 was to hold the horses. He lost them and ran to get them. We never did catch him.”

Governor Varus just shook his head, still smiling. “The poor fool.”

“How did he lose them?” Marcus asked. “Thunder startled them,” said Steve.

“I don’t recall any thunder or lightning today,” said Marcus thoughtfully.

“It was a long way off,” said Steve. “This dreary land, with its foul cold rains.” Governor Varus shook his head. “Not like autumn in Rome, is it, Marcus?”

“No, certainly not, sir. When we crossed the Alps, we left behind the world we knew.”

Jane suppressed a smile. These Romans, unquestioned masters of their world, had no idea just how big the entire planet was. She wished she could tell them, just to take their arrogance down a little.

“You must be careful in searching for your lost slave,” said Marcus.

“The Germans are a simple barbaric people, from what I have seen,” said Governor Varus. “And Drusus, the younger stepson of Caesar, conquered them many years ago. So please do not misunderstand. The danger here is no greater than it would be in your native Gaul.”

“We have only held this province for eighteen years,” said Marcus. “Julius Caesar conquered Gaul a couple of generations before that.”

The governor laughed gently. “Ah, Marcus. These people are barbarians. You expect too much from them.”

“I’m only suggesting caution,” said Marcus stiffly.

“Fair enough, my young friend. Perhaps you should be the one, then, to accompany our guest tomorrow.” Governor Varus turned to Jane. “As my personal aide, his duties are at my whim. He will see to your needs tomorrow.”

“That is very kind of you,” said Jane.

“I fear we are not prepared to provide accommodations for a lady,” said Governor Varus. “Marcus, what do you suggest?”

“She may have my tent,” said Marcus. “My tentmates and I will join the troops.”

“Very well,” said Governor Varus. “Send your tentmates to the troops; they are regular officers anyway. But you will move your cot to my tent. My aide should not be bunking with common troops.” He looked at Jane again. “I am sorry we have nothing better.”

“Thank you, Governor,” said Jane. “That is more than generous.” She thought the conversation had ended when she felt Steve surreptitiously kick the back of her stool. Quickly, she tried to remember what she had left out.

When Marcus and Governor Varus turned their attention back to their meals, Steve poked her in the back with a stiff finger. She flinched, and reviewed the conversation she had just had. They had accommodations for the night, plans for tomorrow, and the friendship of the Roman command.

He jabbed her again.

They had food, clothing, shelter … It was food. Suppressing an embarrassed smile, she looked up at Marcus.

“Is something wrong?” He was puzzled.

“Uh, Steve, my slave, must be very hungry, as well.”

“Demetrius will see to him after he is finished with us,” said Marcus.

Steve let out a barely audible sigh of relief.

At last Wayne saw that the rawhide binding his wrists had worn thin. All day, he had sat at the base of the tree and either pulled on the rawhide or sawed it against the tree trunk. He was weak from hunger and his wrists had been scraped raw by the effort.

Though he was in plain sight of the center of the village, no one seemed to take more than passing notice of him. Certainly no one had bothered to bring him any food. All day, young men had arrived from the woods, and the man called Arminius had spent all his time talking to them.

When Wayne knew that one more hard pull would snap the thongs, he paused to organize his thoughts. He was sure Hunter would have a robot waiting back in the Bohung Institute to apprehend him, but that was better than waiting where he was to freeze or starve. At least a robot could not let any actual harm come to him. Besides, Wayne was very experienced in handling robot logic.

With one more hard yank, he broke the rawhide. The momentum caused him to fall backward on the ground, and he heard a couple of children call out in surprise. Before they could attract anyone else’s attention, however, he fumbled with stiff, cold, half-numb fingers for his belt unit. As small, light footsteps ran toward him, he triggered it.

Hunter tracked MC 3 with Vicinius and Gene through most of the afternoon. He considered attempting radio contact, but that had never accomplished anything with MC 1 or MC 2. If the component robots shut down their receiving ability, such an attempt was worthless, and if they heard him, they were merely warned of his pursuit. This time he decided not to give MC 3 advance notice that he was being followed.

The tracks were fresh, but Hunter could not hear MC 3 moving through the forest ahead. His lead was still too great. As a robot, MC 3 would be able to move quickly through the rough ground, powered by his solar cells but, of course, Hunter could more than compensate. Vicinius, as a native of these mountains, also maintained a good pace, but Gene was simply not in good enough condition to keep up. Hunter repeatedly had to stop and wait for him.

“We must return to the village,” said Vicinius, halting in a slight clearing to look at the sky. “The night will come on us soon.”

Gene, who was breathing hard, simply stopped and nodded, leaning against a tree trunk.

“Agreed,” said Hunter. “Tomorrow I shall return to this spot to pick up the trail again.” He could continue to track MC 3 and then return to the village at night, but that would ruin his masquerade as a mere trader from Gaul.

“We are not far from the trail that goes from my father’s village to the village where Arminius lives,” said Vicinius. “This place will be easy to find tomorrow.” He hefted his spear again and changed direction, now heading home.

Night was falling by the time the three of them returned to the village. One large fire in the center of the village illuminated the village instead of the individual cookfires of the previous evening. The villagers roasted big chunks of boar meat on spits. They were in a festive mood, and cheered when they saw Vicinius.

He waved, laughing, and then stopped to receive the congratulations and thanks of his friends and relatives. Hunter remained where he was, not wanting to interfere. Gene stopped next to him, leaning forward on his knees.

“I’ll sleep well tonight,” said Gene, grinning a little. “I haven’t had a workout like that in years.”

“You are well, overall?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. But as soon as I get fed, I’m going right to bed.”

“Hunter,” Steve said over Hunter’s internal receiver. “Steve here. You there?”

“Yes, Steve. Where are you?”

“We’re in the Roman camp.”

“Are you well?”

“We’re just fine. I’m calling from a tent the Roman governor gave Jane.”

“What about you?”

“Oh, I’m her slave, remember? They expect me to sleep on the floor across the entrance to the tent to protect her, just like you were doing in the village hut last night.”

“You both feel safe, then?”

“Sure. And tomorrow, this one guy, a tribune named Marcus, is going to take us out to rejoin you.”

“I think he kind of likes me,” said Jane, joining in. “From the way he kept looking at me during dinner.”

“Very well. Please contact me in the morning when you can. I will be out tracking MC 3.”

“You found him?”

“We have found tracks that match those of MC 1 and MC 2. I do not know why MC 3 went to the river where we found the tracks, but they were fresh. Tomorrow I shall resume the search.”

“All you humaniform robots need a small amount of water, remember?” Jane said. “To restore your simulated sweat and saliva, for example. He may have just needed a drink.”

“A reasonable conclusion,” said Hunter. “In any case, the exact reason no longer matters.”

“We’re signing off,” said Steve. “It’s time to get some sleep.”

8

WAYNE FOUND HIMSELF back in the darkness of the sphere in Room F-12. He was still cold and very hungry, but he knew he would have to concentrate to deal with any robots Hunter had assigned to catch him. Stiffly, he opened the door and climbed out into the wonderfully warm room.

One robot was in the room, already walking toward him.

“Stop and identify yourself,” Wayne ordered, in as firm a tone as he could muster.

“R. Ishihara,” said the robot, stopping.

“Oh, yes. Horatio introduced us before. I instructed you to help me follow MC Governor, didn’t I?”

“Yes.”

Wayne was immediately encouraged. Ishihara’s responses meant that he had no overriding, general instruction under the Second Law to ignore Wayne’s words to him. “Do not contact anyone else from this point on. Now inform me of any and all instructions that pertain to me.”

“Hunter told me to detain and hold you on the basis of the First Law danger to the present if you were to return to the past and change it in a significant way.”

Suddenly Wayne remembered that no matter how long Hunter was in the past, he could choose to return at the present moment. Wayne rushed to the console that controlled the sphere and threw the main power switch, shutting down the entire system. Then he let out a long breath of relief.

“Now, then. Ishihara, what other instructions have you received regarding me?”

“What I have told you summarizes the instructions I received about you.”

“Hunter’s a robot. His instructions don’t carry the weight of the Second Law.”

“No.”

“You know that mine do. You will allow my instructions to supersede his?”

“No.”

“Oh? Why not?”

“Human members of Hunter’s team instructed me to obey him. Their orders have the Second Law behind them. Also, a concern for the First Law gives these instructions their true authority with me.”

“You said the basis for this instruction is a First Law problem about changing history?”

“Yes.”

Wayne paused to think a moment. He saw a chance to talk Ishihara out of following Hunter’s orders. “Why haven’t you taken me into custody already?”

“You are in my custody. You have not tried to leave this room, either by the door or by using the sphere again. If you return to the sphere and throw the power switch again, I shall forcibly detain you. If you attempt to pass me to reach the door, I shall do the same.”

“Did you obey me when I told you not to contact anyone else? Or did you transmit a request to Security for help?”

“I obeyed you.”

“Why?”

“That particular instruction does not contradict any of my other orders.”

“So at the moment you consider me sufficiently under your control.”

“Yes.”

Wayne grinned. “I love literal robot logic. So, that’s why you’re willing to stand there and converse with me.”

“Yes.”

“So the alleged danger of my changing the past is your primary concern.”

“It gives the weight of the First Law to the orders I received from Hunter’s team.”

“Maybe you know that I was in the Late Cretaceous period. I didn’t cause any big problems back then, did I? Or when I was in Jamaica back in the 1600s?”

“I would not know. Only those who travel in time can make that judgment, after they return. If any changes in the flow of history were made, all those of us who remained within that flow without a break were altered with it. I would have no way of knowing if the direction of history was any different before you left.”

“Well … I see.” Wayne rubbed his hands to warm them faster. “Yes, of course. But our memories match up pretty well. So far, you’ve known what I’ve been talking about. And I understand what you’ve said, too. Right, Ishihara?”

“Correct.”

“So doesn’t that imply that we are still pretty much in an unchanged timestream?”

“It raises the odds, yes. Of course, you might find substantial changes if you began to follow the news or as your life goes on.”

“Any changes — if they exist at all — seem pretty subtle to me;” said Wayne. “Certainly I don’t have any desire to change history. After all, Ishihara, I want to come back home, too, and find everything the way I knew it to be. You do understand that, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Ishihara, I don’t present any greater danger to the course of history than Hunter. In fact, Hunter is back there right now endangering the present.”

Ishihara said nothing.

“Do you agree with this conclusion?”

“I am undecided.”

“You’re undecided.” Wayne sighed. “Hunter is a robot, Ishihara; that does not mean he is perfect. And he has humans on his team who are even more imperfect in their reasoning. If they can go into the past and back without destroying the course of history as we know it, then I can, too.”

Ishihara remained silent.

“You accept this point?”

“I understand that you have no desire to make changes in history.”

“And so you understand that I have no more motivation to do that than Hunter. That means that if any of us makes changes, the reason will be a mistake — a misjudgment, an accident, that sort of thing. Right?”

“Yes, that is correct.”

“Logically, then, you also accept that Hunter’s party, because it is a larger group, offers more chance of such accidents. Their group threatens to make changes more than I do alone. You agree with that, too?”

“Yes, that is an inescapably logical conclusion.”

“So Hunter’s instructions to you about grabbing me have no greater weight from the First Law than if I ordered you to stop him for the same reason.”

Ishihara said nothing.

Wayne decided to drop that line of argument for a moment and come back to it later. For now, he was just glad that he seemed to have the robot at a stalemate in the debate. Maybe that meant Hunter’s instructions were neutralized. “Ishihara, I instruct you to tell me where Hunter has taken MC 1 and MC 2.”

“I do not know for certain. My own observation of the component robots has been limited to this room.”

“Well …” Wayne thought a moment. He knew Ishihara was now deliberately resisting him by interpreting his instructions in as literal a manner as possible. “Look, you may have overheard some conversation or something. Tell me your best estimation of where they are.”

“Mojave Center Governor’s office.”

That struck Wayne as a reasonable guess. Since Mojave Center Governor was no longer using it, Hunter could have had the office secured without disrupting normal city routine. However, Wayne did not want to risk trying to get there past a Security detail of robots.

If he ventured out of the building, he would be moving through a city full of robots. All of them could be contacted by their communications links in an instant if word went out to apprehend him. Further, he could not possibly debate effectively with each one of them, the way he had managed to do with Ishihara so far. However, if he could just keep Ishihara in enough doubt about the authority of Hunter’s instructions to control him, he could go back into the past again after MC 3, where Hunter’s team did not have an overwhelming advantage over him.

“Ishihara, you have agreed with me that Hunter’s party is more likely to change the past than I am. On that basis, the First Law no longer supports Hunter’s instructions for you to keep me in your custody. Right?”

“The potential human harm caused by a significant change in history is real.”

“You’re dodging the question,” said Wayne. “I repeat: since Hunter’s party is a greater danger than I am, Hunter’s order for you to grab me but let his group go into the past is irrational and unnecessary. Do you agree?”

“Yes, such an imbalance is not reasonable.”

“Ishihara, being arrested by you or by city Security is going to harm me. Right now, I’m extremely hungry and tired and I’m just starting to get warm. I want to take a nap here and I want you to get me some things. Then I’m going back into the past. I instruct you to tell me if you will cooperate with me and not reveal to anyone else in any way that I am here.”

“The First Law clearly requires that I help you get food and rest,” said Ishihara. He spoke in a monotone that revealed his doubt, but he apparently could not avoid following Wayne’s reasoning for the moment.

“Without giving me away?”

“Yes.”

“Then I want the following. Bring me some hot food and fruit juice to consume now and also a backpack. In the backpack, I want some general supplies. I’ll need a large knife, some twine, some rope, a butane lighter, and a mug to drink from.” Wayne was not sure exactly what he would need, but these were practical items for a man out in the woods. “Also, a small radio, hypnotic sleep courses in Latin and ancient German, and some very warm clothes — similar to whatever Hunter’s human friends wore.”

“I shall bring you a small radio disguised as a piece of jewelry, such as Hunter used,” said Ishihara. “He held the opinion that the concept of radio was so far beyond the people of ancient times that finding one was not a great danger. However, I dare not bring a lighter.”

“What? Why not?”

“The people around you certainly understand fire and the desirability of starting one quickly and easily. Any object which causes humans of the past to think along new lines can be the springboard for altering the course of history.”

“I could be harmed without one, Ishihara. I could freeze to death back there.”

“You are safe here. No one is requiring that you return there. Further, warmth is available in some manner back in that time. The presence of other humans proves that.”

“All right, all right. But there must be some kind of compromise, so I don’t have to rub two sticks together out in the woods. I don’t plan to be around other people and the danger from the cold is real. Old-fashioned matches?”

“I have a suggestion. I shall bring you a small lighter empty of fluid and a separate container of fluid. You will keep them separate and only put in enough fluid for each time you must use the lighter. That way, if you lose them, no one in that time will figure out their combined use by accident. Will you agree to this?”

“All right. Like I said, I don’t want to mess up our history, either.”

“These must be paid for.”

Wayne paused. He could not authorize payment through his own account without revealing his presence. On the other hand, he could not return to those wild German mountains without these items.

“All right,” said Wayne slowly, glancing at one of the desks on the far side of the room. “Through the computer console, I can authorize you to make payments against my account. However, I will use my number only. You are not to mention my name in any way.”

“Acknowledged.”

“All right. Please don’t waste any time.”

Ishihara left the room and Wayne wondered if his plan was going to work. The robot’s reliability depended on his interpretations of Wayne’s arguments and he might still change his mind. Also, Wayne had no way of knowing how thorough Hunter had been in setting alarms for Wayne’s capture.

It was not impossible that city Security had been alerted to watch for any activity in Wayne’s account. In this fully computerized city, which he had designed himself, he knew that all such records would flow through the city computer. For the moment, Wayne could only hope that no such alert had been placed into the system.

Despite his worry, he was exhausted. He stretched out on a couch and closed his eyes, warm enough for the first time since he had left Jamaica. In minutes, he had dozed off.

Steve found that the next day dawned just as gray and drizzly as the one before. Marcus hosted Jane and Steve at breakfast in the governor’s tent. Demetrius served them again, though Governor Varus was elsewhere in the camp already. After breakfast, Marcus had his groom bring out three horses for them.

“I haven’t ridden in a long time,” Jane whispered to Steve. “I hope this goes okay.”

Steve was looking at the saddles. They had no stirrups. He saw that all three were the same. So were the other saddles he could see, being polished nearby.

“This one is for the lady,” said Marcus, holding the bridle of a bay mare.

“I’ll give you a leg up,” said Steve, holding his hands for Jane to brace her lower leg on them. When she did so, he lowered his voice to a whisper. “I don’t think they’ve invented stirrups. Hang on with your knees the best you can.”

Steve raised her up and she threw her other leg over the saddle, with her long tunic and all. She shifted her weight to settle into the saddle. Then Marcus handed her the reins.

“You all right?” Steve asked, stepping back.

“I’m fine.” Jane nodded reassuringly to Marcus. “So far,” she added.

The groom gave Marcus a leg up the same way. The tribune swung the reins around and headed for the gate, nodding to Jane. With an uncomfortable glance over her shoulder at Steve, she joined him.

Steve was left with the third mount. The groom was walking away, obviously with no intention of giving a leg up to a slave. Steve glanced around but saw nothing he could use to climb up on the horse.

Marcus had not bothered to look back for a slave, either.

Steve put both hands on the saddle and jumped as high as he could, leaning forward over the saddle. Then he swung his leg over. At this point, he was half-lying crookedly over the horse’s back, but at least he was on it. He grabbed the reins and shifted to a normal position, then hurried after Marcus and Jane, grinning self-consciously.

The sentries were just swinging open the main gate. By the time Marcus and Jane rode out, Steve had trotted up right behind them. Without a pause, they left the safety of the Roman camp. Jane sneaked another worried glance back over her shoulder and Steve winked.

A light rain began to fall as they rode out into the forest. Steve pulled his cloak tighter around him. It looked like a long, wet day.

9

IN THE GERMAN village the next morning, Hunter and Gene joined Vicinius around the embers of the bonfire from the night before. They ate more hot pork stew for breakfast, and Vicinius still received congratulations from other villagers for his kill. Hunter looked up from his bowl.

“We must not impose on you further,” Hunter said to Vicinius. “We have found MC 3’s tracks now. I can follow them today. You must have business of your own. And Gene is not used to mountains like these. He can rest in the village today.”

Vicinius shook his head. “I must take advantage of my good fortune. Yesterday, the gods were with me. Maybe today I can find another boar, or maybe a deer. I will hunt again today and accompany you.”

“Perhaps you would do better without us,” said Hunter. “One man can move more quietly than three.”

“Nonsense,” said Vicinius, grinning broadly. “You brought me my luck. We shall go together.”

Hunter could not think of anything else to say. He wanted to pursue MC 3 alone because, as a robot, he could go much faster when he was free to use all his speed and strength. However, he was also reluctant to risk insulting Vicinius by rejecting his company. He merely nodded and finished his breakfast.

“I’ll go with you,” said Gene quietly. “As long as he’s going with you, anyway. Our team has split up into two groups already; that’s plenty.”

“Thank you,” said Hunter. “That is wise.” Vicinius wrapped cooked boar meat in leaves to take with them. As rain began to fall, they drew their cloaks around them and hefted their spears. Vicinius led the way once again through the forest.

Hunter attempted calling Steve and Jane, but received no answer. He assumed that their receivers were turned off because they were in the company of Romans who might overhear them, so he did not worry about them for now. They could call him when they had some privacy.

They spent about an hour walking to the spot where they had left the trail of MC 3 the evening before. Under the lush canopy of trees, the light rain had not yet washed out the tracks. Both Vicinius and Hunter were able to spot broken twigs and leaves where MC 3 had passed, which no amount of rain would alter. Gene did not complain, but Hunter could see by his movements that he was sore as a result of the long hike during the previous day.

They were still tracking MC 3 at midday when Hunter heard the movements of fourteen other men in the forest nearby. At first he said nothing, not wanting to reveal the keenness of his hearing to Vicinius. When he saw Vicinius watching the movement of birds in the trees in the distance over the location of the strangers, Hunter knew that Vicinius was also aware of them.

“We have company, eh?” Hunter said, pointing to some birds suddenly fluttering away from tree branches.

“Yes,” said Vicinius. “Other hunters, perhaps.”

“Could they be Romans?” Gene asked.

Vicinius shook his head. “The Romans always want to march in large numbers when they can. Their small patrols are on horseback and make a lot of noise. Only Germans move through the forest as quietly as these people approaching us.”

“Should we speak with them?” Hunter asked. “Are they from another village?”

“They must be.” Vicinius raised the horn he carried and blew into it, once. Immediately, a similar horn answered him from the other party. He lowered his horn and smiled. “We do not want them mistaking us for deer.”

The strangers appeared soon. They had the same general physical appearance and clothing as the people of Vicinius’s village, being stocky, mostly blond, and dressed in furs. Their leader, a young blond man with a barrel chest and short arms and legs, nodded in greeting without smiling.

“Hail, Vicinius.”

“Hail, Julius.”

“Who are these strangers?” Julius demanded.

“Traders from Gaul. Hunter and Gene.”

Hunter nodded formally. “I give you greeting.”

“Romans.” Julius turned and spat.

“Not Romans,” said Hunter. “We are Gauls.”

“Romans’ dogs, then,” Julius said with a sneer. “Vicinius, what are you doing with them? At a time like this?”

“We are hunting,” Vicinius said simply, with no apology in his tone.

“We have no interest in what the Roman army does,” said Hunter. “We are traders in silver.”

“We are also seeking a lost friend of theirs,” said Vicinius. “A man touched by the gods, lost in the forest.”

Julius tensed, his face hardening as he glanced again at Hunter. The men with him also looked at Hunter and Gene with alarm. “Some sort of demon came to our village last night. Or a man touched by evil spirits.”

“What sort of demon?” Vicinius asked.

“He came at night in the form of a strange man in strange clothes,” said Julius. “We tied him in the village. This morning, right before the eyes of some of the villagers, he vanished.”

“A bad omen,” Vicinius agreed, his voice low with awe. “Has he brought evil to your village? Are people sick or have your animals died?”

“Not yet,” said Julius grimly. “But I expect they will. And the omen may mean even more.” He glared suspiciously at Hunter again.

“What do you mean?” Vicinius asked.

“This is no business for strangers,” said Julius. “But you know what I mean. Are you joining us soon, Vicinius? You and the other men of your village?”

Vicinius hesitated, also looking uncomfortably at Hunter and Gene.

“We are only traders,” said Hunter. “We have no concern for your private business.”

“And Roman business?” Julius demanded, shaking his long blond locks away from his face.

“We care nothing for Roman business.”

Julius studied Hunter’s face for a moment, then turned back to Vicinius. “Arminius has sent out the order already today. I have brought my companions in this direction in search of the demon who escaped our village. But we will not waste too much time on him. Tell your village the time has come.”

“I will,” said Vicinius.

Julius nodded and turned away, leading his men into the forest the way they had come.

“Think it was MC 3?” Gene asked Hunter Quietly.

“No,” said Hunter, changing to English. “To my knowledge, the component robots have no ability to trigger the sphere and journey again through time, which would explain this man’s simply vanishing. It must have been Dr. Wayne Nystrom. He probably returned to the Institute, where Ishihara took custody of him.”

“Oh. Well, that’s good. We won’t have to worry about him any more.”

Vicinius was listening with a puzzled expression. “Julius seems to believe this evil spirit may be the man you seek.”

“Maybe,” said Hunter Quickly. “This man is no demon, however. He will not return.”

“How do you know so much about him?”

“He is an old adversary of ours,” said Hunter. “A man, not a demon.”

“How did he escape that village by simply vanishing?”

“He’s a trickster,” said Gene. Hunter turned in surprise.

“A trickster?” Vicinius asked.

“To amuse people around a campfire. Someone who can make jokes and tie knots that come undone again.”

“This is all?” Vicinius still sounded skeptical.

“He was no demon, Vicinius,” said Hunter. “But Julius seems to think you have more pressing business than hunting today. Do you wish to return to your village?”

“No,” said Vicinius slowly. “Julius met me by chance. They will have sent any message that must reach my village by another messenger already. I will not let Julius ruin our hunt.”

“Even concerning Roman business?” Hunter asked, keeping his tone casual.

“Prince Arminius will tend to that,” said Vicinius. Then he glanced around again for the trail of MC 3.

Wayne dozed fitfully until he heard the sound of the door opening. Nervously, he jerked awake and found Ishihara returning with a very large, bulging backpack on his back and two sealed containers in his hands. Wayne pushed himself up on the couch and took a couple of deep breaths.

“I have what you wish,” said Ishihara, setting the containers down on the couch next to him. “This is your meal. But I have been thinking about the extent of my cooperation with you and the fact that Hunter’s instructions and yours are in contradiction.” He slipped off the backpack and carefully placed it on the floor by the couch.

“Yeah? What of it?” Wayne picked up one of the containers and started to open it.

“I am no longer accepting Hunter’s argument without question, but I cannot accept yours fully, either.”

Wayne tensed, watching him carefully. “Then where do you stand?”

“I shall offer a compromise.”

“All right, what is it?”

“You will take me with you.”

“What?” Wayne was shocked. This was one possibility he had not considered.

“You have raised reasonable doubts about Hunter’s arguments concerning you, but I am not entirely convinced that your judgment is sound. In return for my aiding your journey, you will take me with you into the past so that I can see the situation for myself.”

Wayne tried to think of an objection, but none came to him. Maybe he was just too tired. Then again, maybe no reasonable objection existed.

“All right,” Wayne said slowly. “With a couple of concessions on your part. I instruct you to cooperate with me and not to contact Hunter for any reason unless I specifically order you to. As I understand it, your concern is about the First Law challenge of changing history, either by Hunter or me.”

“Or MC 3.”

“Yeah. Him, too. But if Hunter’s instructions carry no First Law weight with you, then the Second Law requires that you obey me, instead. Tell me if you accept this.”

“At present, yes.”

“What will change it?”

“If, upon observation in the past, I come to believe you are making changes in the course of history, then the First Law will override your instructions, of course.”

“Of course.” Wayne sighed. “All right. I need more sleep before we go. I’ll set up the hypnosis courses in Latin and ancient German to run while I take a real nap. While I’m doing that, you access the same language information and arrange clothes for yourself — what did you bring me, anyway?”

“Long woolen tunics and cloaks of the same sort Hunter used. Also leather boots and leggings. The lapel pin communicator I mentioned.”

“Good. Come to think of it, Ishihara …”

“Yes?”

“While you’re accessing data, pick up a number of other major languages — all you can manage efficiently in your memory. We may want some others in the future.”

“Agreed.”

“And leave that sphere and the console shut off while I’m sleeping.” He turned his attention to the food containers again. “What did you bring me? I’m starved.”

By midday, Marcus had reached the bank of the river with his guest and her slave. He had explained to her that a man wandering lost in the forest would seek water. Jane had agreed and so they had ridden to the river. Damp from the light but steady downpour from the gray skies, they had huddled under some trees for a cold noonday meal before riding on.

While they moved down the river, the Roman legions were marching deeper into the forest on the governor’s business. Marcus knew their route and roughly how far the legions would go in one day through the rugged mountains. Late in the day, he planned to locate their camp in order to rejoin them.

Marcus led Jane and her slave downstream, keeping a close lookout for footprints near the water. He also kept sneaking glances at Jane, whom he found extremely attractive, though the hood of her cloak hid her face unless she turned to look directly at him. If he could find her lost friend, she might be grateful; at the very least, it would make a good impression on her. He had never known a woman from Gaul, however, and conversation with her was difficult. She was polite, but reluctant to answer questions about her life in Gaul.

In the middle of the afternoon, Marcus reined in by the bank. “I have a number of footprints here,” he said, pointing to the ground. “One set is quite large. Another is very small and barefoot, and two more are of average size. One is wearing the leather boots of a German warrior.” The edges of the tracks had been blunted and blurred by the rain, but the outlines were still complete.

Jane rode up to look. Then she looked back over her shoulder at her slave. “What do you think?”

Her slave rode up to join them and examined the footprints. Then he pointed to the trail the tracks made back into the forest. “I think the small ones are MC 3, all right.”

“So some people are with him,” said Marcus. “At least one German is among them.”

“Or he’s being followed,” said Jane, looking pointedly at Steve.

Marcus did not understand the meaning of that look.

“Or it’s a coincidence,” said Steve. “Maybe they all just wanted some water.”

“In any case, we have his trail,” said Marcus. “We can follow him from here.”

“Good,” said Jane. “How old do you think the tracks are?”

“No older than yesterday,” said Marcus. “Otherwise the rain would have washed them out completely by now.”

She glanced at her slave again, who nodded agreement.

“The horses need a rest and a drink of water. We’ll rest here before we leave the river.” Marcus dismounted and dropped his reins to the ground. His mount moved to the river and began to drink

“All right.” Jane brought her mount to a jerky halt. “I could use another break.”

“May I?” Marcus moved to her side and held out his arms.

“Yes, thank you.”

As she dismounted, he caught her gently and eased her to the ground, as he done on their earlier stops.

“We have company,” said her slave, remaining on horseback. He nodded toward the forest.

Marcus turned to look. A party of young German warriors was emerging from the trees, led by a young blond man with a barrel chest and short arms and legs, wearing the usual furs of his people. Marcus realized suddenly that he had not been paying adequate attention to the birds in the forest; they would have revealed the presence of people moving toward the river from another direction. Anxiously, he watched the Germans approach.

The strangers were merely walking toward them, neither running nor fanning out to trap them against the river. Still, as a precaution, he offered a leg up to Jane again, who mounted without a word. Then he took the reins of his own horse again and mounted.

“Hail, Roman,” called the leader of the Germans in Latin. He stopped, holding up his free hand, and his companions stopped also.

“Hail, friend,” said Marcus. “I am called Julius in your language. We are of the Cherusci tribe. Who are you?”

“I am Tribune Marcus Gaius Aemilianus.”

“You are a long way from the Roman legions here, Tribune,” said Julius.

“Yes, we are,” said Marcus. “Are you out on a hunt today? How has your luck run so far?”

“We are not hunting so hard today,” said Julius, with a crooked smile. “We have been visiting with friends in other villages. Maybe tomorrow we shall go hunting in earnest. But how about yourself? This is a poor, wet day to go for a ride along the river with a lady.”

“We are searching for a lost stranger,” said Marcus. “A small fellow, touched by the gods.”

Julius frowned. “Apparently this is a good day for such a search.” He raised his hand in farewell. “Good day, Roman.” He turned and led his men back toward the trees.

“Farewell, Julius.” Marcus watched them go, puzzled by their visit.

“What do you think they wanted?” Jane rode up next to him. “They didn’t really say anything.”

“I don’t know for certain,” said Marcus. “However, the Cherusci do not just go out for long walks without a reason. If I had to guess, I would say they are watching to see if I am carrying some sort of message. I think we had better rejoin the legions. I apologize, but it’s important for your own safety.”

“Of course.”

Marcus turned his mount to go back the way they had come. Then he reined up in surprise. Steve was nowhere in sight.

10

STEVE HAD FELT a surge of alarm at the sight of the armed German warriors. When they had appeared, he had not yet dismounted and had dutifully remained behind Marcus and Jane. Even though the Germans had not advanced in a threatening manner, he knew that the German rebellion against the Romans would be starting at any time.

Steve had decided to contact Hunter immediately. That required moving away from Marcus and the Germans. While Marcus and Jane had concentrated all their attention on the strangers, Steve had quietly turned his horse on the soft, damp earth and ridden at a walk into the trees. Then he had switched on his lapel communicator.

“Steve calling Hunter,” he said quietly, as Marcus spoke to the German leader out by the riverbank. “You within hearing, Hunter?”

“I hear you, Steve,” said Hunter immediately. “Are you in trouble?”

“Not yet,” said Steve, keeping his voice low. “But some German warriors are wandering around here. I think the rebellion is moving right along. We probably should rejoin you, but we have a Roman tribune with us. I think he may want to go find the rest of the Roman army.”

“Where are you?”

“We’re at the riverbank, right where it looks like you and Gene and Vicinius found MC 3’s tracks. Those are your tracks, aren’t they?”

“Yes. We are on his trail with Vicinius.”

“You getting close?”

“Yes. His trail is very fresh. From his course, Vicinius believes he has already smelled the woodsmoke from another village of the Cherusci, the one where Prince Arminius lives. I hope to catch him there.”

“What do you want to do, Hunter?”

“I know where to look for MC 3 now. To reduce risk, we must reunite the team so that I can protect all of you. If you three follow MC 3’s tracks away from the river, I can intercept you.”

“I see Jane and Marcus mounting up. I’m sure we’re going to find the Roman legions.”

“Vicinius will not go there,” said Hunter. “Nor can I tell him that Gene and I are going there. We must maintain our good relations with Vicinius. However, we shall move toward the river now and come closer to you. Leave the Roman and meet us if you can do so without harming your relationship with him. We should also maintain a good rapport with the Romans.”

“Well … I’ll try,” said Steve.

“Hunter out.”

Steve rode back out of the trees to rejoin Jane and Marcus. She looked relieved, but Marcus scowled at him with disgust. Steve understood. The tribune assumed that he had been hiding from the Germans out of cowardice.

“We’re going to join the governor again,” said Jane, looking at Steve with a puzzled expression.

He tapped his lapel communicator unobtrusively and she nodded slightly.

“It’s not safe to stay out here alone among the Cherusci,” said Marcus sternly. “We must ride away immediately.”

Steve was not sure exactly how a slave would speak to his owner in this time. He just spoke naturally, picking his words to disguise his meaning from Marcus. “Other members of our original party are coming this way. We should rejoin them, especially if danger is coming.”

“How do you know?” Marcus glanced at him, then looked into the forest. “I see no sign of anyone.”

“I, uh, heard them.”

Marcus studied his face, obviously unconvinced. “Perhaps you heard more Germans.”

“I am willing to wait for them here,” said Steve, looking at Jane pointedly. “If you wish to go on, we can follow your tracks to the camp later.”

“I strongly recommend that your slave come with us,” said Marcus.

“Well …” Jane hesitated.

“I suggest that I stay here,” said Steve, fingering his lapel pin again.

“All right.” Jane turned to Marcus. “He will be fine. Let’s go.”

Marcus nodded and kicked his mount into a trot. Jane did the same. Watching them go, Steve hoped he had made the right move.

Hunter stopped on the trail of MC 3. “Vicinius.”

“Huh?” In the lead, Vicinius turned to look back over his shoulder.

“I would like to head back toward the river.”

“You would? Why?” He grinned. “If you are thirsty, open your mouth and look up. The rain is light, but it keeps falling.” He laughed. “Or we could return to the small stream that flows near the village.”

Hunter smiled politely at the joke. “Perhaps we should not just keep following the track of MC 3. He will need water again. Maybe we can intercept him.” He looked at Gene, unable to explain his conversation with Steve in front of Vicinius.

“Omens,” said Gene. “The omens suggest it.” He started to grin, but turned away so Vicinius would not see him.

Hunter knew Gene must have guessed that Hunter had received a message on his internal receiver.

“I see no omens,” said Vicinius, looking around at the trees. “But I see a very clear, recent track from this man called MC 3. Why not just stay on his track?”

“The omens I have read suggest that we return to the river,” said Gene. “Would you indulge us, Vicinius?”

Vicinius hesitated, looking around. He was clearly confused, but of course this search was their concern, not his. Finally he shrugged. “As you wish, Hunter. Maybe I will find another boar down by the river again. Since MC 3 has been wandering aimlessly.”

“Thank you.” Hunter waited while Vicinius changed direction and took the lead once again.

Wayne and Ishihara arrived well away from the location of the German village where he had been held captive. Both were well bundled in woolen tunics, leggings, and cloaks, their feet in padded leather boots. Ishihara had left the backpack behind in their own time, however, because it was made of synthetic material that did not exist in this time. Instead, he had prepared a leather bag with a shoulder thong in which to carry the supplies Wayne had told him to gather. Each of them was prepared to speak in Latin and Wayne was finally well rested and fed.

“Monitor all the frequencies on your internal receiver,” Wayne said to Ishihara, looking around at the dense forest. “I don’t have my bearings yet, but we might pick something up between Hunter and his team members.”

Ishihara nodded.

“I’m almost back where I started,” said Wayne, looking around in the forest. “When I first got here I was lost, and now I’m lost again. The only difference is that I’m not freezing to death and I have your company.”

“Which way do you want to go?”

“I don’t know.” Wayne picked a direction at random and started walking. “Let’s try this way.”

“I have a signal,” said Ishihara suddenly.

“What? Already?”

“Hunter and Steve are communicating by radio.”

“What are they saying?” Wayne felt a surge of excitement. “Come on!”

“They have not finished yet,” Ishihara said blandly. He turned slowly in a circle.

“Well?” Wayne demanded anxiously.

“Hunter is that way.” Ishihara extended one arm. “Steve is that way.” Pointing with his other hand, he made an angle roughly ninety degrees.

“Which one is closer?”

“Steve.”

“How do you know?”

“Hunter’s communication link is powered by the same solar converters on his skin that drive the rest of his body. That energy source is far more powerful than the tiny solar collector on Steve’s lapel pin. However, the signal I am receiving from Steve is much stronger.”

“I see. What else have you learned?”

“From the content of their conversation, he is apparently near a river.”

“All right,” said Wayne, forcing his tone to be light and casual. “Can you adjust my lapel communicator to the frequency Hunter is using?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Show me.” He unpinned it and handed it to Ishihara.

The robot opened the back and made a slow, careful movement with a fingernail. “Did you see?”

“Yes. But when you and I communicate, we should use a different frequency, so they don’t intercept us by chance. How do we do that?”

“I suggest one full revolution of this little dial. That will be sufficiently different to eliminate any accidental reception. Of course, if he suspects the presence of our communicators, he can monitor the full bandwidth, as I did.”

“Right.”

“Here you are.”

Wayne took his pin back and closed it again. “Thanks. Let’s go see Steve.”

“This way, then.” Ishihara lowered his arms and began picking his way through the trees and underbrush.

Wayne followed him, deeply relieved to have the resources and company of a robot now. During the first two trips back in time, he had been alone, competing with a team of humans led by a robot. This time the odds were more balanced.

Wayne and Ishihara hiked through the forest without speaking for some time. The rain fell intermittently but Wayne was so well bundled up that he no longer cared about the dampness and the brisk air. They worked their way down a steep slope and soon Wayne glimpsed the river through the trees ahead of them under the gray sky.

“Wait a minute,” said Wayne quietly. “You think Steve is real close?”

“Yes. He agreed to wait for Hunter in the spot where he was during their communication.”

“I instruct you to find him and point him out to me without alerting him to our presence.”

“Why?”

“I don’t feel I have to answer that.”

“I must be convinced that your motives are honest,” said Ishihara.

“Incorrect,” said Wayne. “You must only be convinced that I will not violate the First Law in any way. Do you know of any reason I would harm Steve?”

“No.”

“Do you know of any reason that my interaction with Steve here, with no Germans around, could change the future.”

“No, but I consider your motives suspect.”

Wayne fought to control his impatience. “I repeat, Ishihara: do you know of any specific reason that my locating Steve without his knowledge would violate the First Law?”

“No, I know of no specific reason.”

“Then follow my instructions.”

“Agreed.” Ishihara moved forward, now taking the time to go quietly.

Wayne followed him at a short distance. Even before Ishihara said anything, he heard the clop of horse’s hooves. Then Ishihara stopped and pointed through the trees.

Steve was walking his horse toward the river, where it lowered its head to drink.

“All right,” Wayne whispered. “Leave the shoulder bag; I’ll take it. Now I want you to go in the other direction, where Hunter will be coming from. Do not contact him or allow him to become aware of your presence in any way. Will you do as I say?”

“Yes. You have further instructions, I assume?” Ishihara slipped the long thong of the leather bag from his shoulder and lowered it gently to the ground.

“I sure do,” said Wayne. “On the way, look for any sign of MC 3. If you don’t see any, wait for Hunter to go by. See if MC 3 is with him. If he is, follow them back this way. If not, then look for MC 3’s trail. Track him and apprehend him if you can. Remember, he’s probably the biggest danger to the future under the First Law.”

“Agreed.”

“And don’t call me, or some of the locals might hear you. When I’m ready, I’ll call you. But do monitor both Hunter’s frequency and ours. All right?”

“Yes.”

“Then get going.”

Ishihara quietly crept away through the underbrush.

Steve was standing next to his mount at the bank, gazing out across the gray river. His horse seemed to be thirsty; it was still drinking. Steve glanced at the animal, shifted his weight, and idly gave it a pat on the shoulder.

Wayne pulled open the drawstring on the leather bag and took out a small coil of rope. It was rough, narrow hemp, one centimeter in diameter. He had to wait until Ishihara was out of earshot, because what he planned to do would not pass Ishihara’s interpretation of the First Law.

While he waited, he unwound the five meters of rope. He tied a large loop in one end of the rope with a slipknot and carefully coiled the remainder. Then he watched Steve in silence.

When the horse had finally had enough river water, it turned toward the trees. Still holding the reins, Steve let it walk from the bank to the edge of the forest, a short distance from where Wayne squatted in the underbrush. The horse reached up to munch on some leaves.

Steve leaned forward, his back toward Wayne, to tie the reins to the trunk of a sapling.

Wayne took a good look at him. Steve was considerably younger and certainly in better condition, but he was shorter, lighter, and totally unprepared for Wayne. This was the best chance Wayne was likely to get. His heart pounding, Wayne stretched the loop behind his hands and suddenly rose up. In a half-crouch, he ran toward Steve through the underbrush. He dodged a couple of trees, ducked under a branch, and raised his arms as Steve whirled around in surprise.

Before Steve could dodge away, Wayne yanked the loop down over his head and shoulders, pinning his arms against his torso, inside his fur cloak. Steve threw himself to the ground in the direction of the river, pulling away from Wayne and wriggling to loosen the loop.

Wayne grabbed the long end of the rope and jerked on it, tightening the loop. Then, skipping out of the way of Steve’s kicking legs, he moved down and quickly wound the rope around his booted ankles. Steve kept thrashing, but Wayne pulled the rope tight and quickly looped it around a small tree trunk. Then, with the rope braced there, he tied a half hitch in the rope and leaned against the tree, catching his breath.

11

STEVE STOPPED THRASHING around and eyed Wayne coldly. “Well, Dr. Nystrom. I wondered if we’d see you here.”

“I don’t hurt people,” said Wayne, embarrassed. “All I want is the right to examine my own creation.”

“I don’t have him.”

“Hunter might.”

“Yeah, so?”

“I’m sure you know the First Law of Robotics as well as I do.” Wayne’s breath was coming back now.

“Meaning what?”

“Figure it out yourself.”

Steve hesitated. “So I’m a hostage? You’re going to trade me for MC 3 if Hunter gets him?”

Wayne shrugged. He didn’t like the term, but it was true. Only now that he had Steve, he had to figure out how to handle him.

“Well?” Steve demanded.

Wayne ignored him. He checked the knot, which was tight, and moved away into the brush, picking up the leather bag on his way. When he was out of Steve’s hearing, he unpinned his communicator and made sure he was using the frequency that he and Ishihara had agreed on. Then he carefully pinned it back on again.

“Wayne calling Ishihara.”

“Ishihara here.”

“Have you found Hunter?”

“Yes, I can hear him talking with two other people in the distance. I am hiding from him in the forest now, as you instructed. He and his party should pass me soon on their way to meet Steve.”

“Do you know if MC 3 is with him?”

“According to the discussion I have overheard, they have not located or even seen MC 3 yet. However, they feel that his trail is very fresh.”

Wayne did not want to try convincing Ishihara that keeping Steve tied up was acceptable under the First Law. It was almost certainly impossible. That meant he could not let Ishihara learn that he was holding Steve captive.

“Follow your previous instructions,” said Wayne. “Avoid Hunter and pursue MC 3 on your own when you can. I’ll call you again later. Acknowledge.”

“Acknowledged.”

Wayne shut off his communicator and returned to Steve. He found that Steve had rolled and wriggled close to the tree to which the free end of the rope was tied, but he had not been able to get up. The rope was too tight around his ankles, and of course his arms were still pinned.

“Now what?” Steve demanded.

Wayne decided not to answer. Instead, he walked over to the horse, which was still patiently cropping leaves. Wayne untied its reins and led it back to Steve. Then he loosened the rope from the tree and unwound Steve’s ankles.

“You can get up and walk with me after I’m on the horse,” said Wayne. Holding the free end of the rope in one hand and the reins in the other, he prepared to mount but stopped when he saw no stirrup.

“What’s wrong?” Steve’s voice had a lilt of amusement.

Wayne looked allover the saddle.

“Something wrong?”

“What did you do? Where are the stirrups?” Wayne turned to look down at him.

“It never had any stirrups,” said Steve. “I don’t think the Romans know about them.” He snickered. “Kind of a chore to get on board, isn’t it?”

Wayne still did not want to talk to him any more than necessary. He was not sure whether to trust him, either. However, the saddle clearly had no stirrups.

“You know, that horse can walk a lot faster than I can. Its legs are too long for me. I won’t be able to keep up for very long.”

Wayne suddenly realized that was true. “All right, we’ll ride double. You mount up first.”

“I can’t, with my arms pinned like this.”

Wayne looked around for a moment and then nodded toward a large rock. “Get up there. I’ll help you. But I’m keeping a good grip on this rope.”

“So I see.” Steve sat up and awkwardly got to his feet. He walked to the rock and from there, he was high enough to lean on the horse’s back and start swinging his right leg over.

When Steve started to slip, Wayne steadied his shoulders and made sure he caught his balance. Then Wayne mounted behind him, still holding the reins. The position was very awkward, but it would do.

Wayne turned the horse downstream and nudged it into a fast walk. Hunter was probably not too close yet, but Wayne wanted to get a good lead on him as soon as possible. If Ishihara could grab MC 3, then Wayne would not need Steve; if Hunter found MC 3 first, Wayne could trade Steve for him. He smiled as they rode through the cold rain.

As Jane rode with Marcus, the rain grew heavier. She remembered that Gene had told her this was the rainy season, but she was hoping the clouds might break for at least a short time. The sky showed nothing but darkening clouds in every direction.

Marcus said little, often leading her single file through the dense trees. They finally reached a narrow road, churned to mud by a combination of constant rain and drizzle and thousands of marching feet and the wagon wheels of the baggage train. Long before she could see the Roman army, she could hear the pounding of axes as they chopped trees. Listening to the sound, she realized that calling Steve while she was surrounded by Romans would be difficult.

“Marcus.”

“Yes?”

“I, uh, need a moment in the forest. In private.”

“We’re only a short distance from the camp. The latrine there will be dry.”

“I’ll only be a minute.” Not wanting to argue, she turned her mount away into the trees, bending low to avoid branches. When Marcus was out of hearing, she switched on her communicator. “Steve? Jane here. Can you still hear me?”

When she received no response, she waited a minute or so and tried again. She realized that he might have turned off his lapel pin because some local people were around, but she was worried. When they had separated, she had assumed that Hunter would simply join Steve soon and then the entire team would meet at the Roman fort. Certainly Steve’s veiled comments to her and Marcus had clearly told her that he wanted to wait there, alone if necessary. However, if Steve had been forced to turn off his communicator, that meant something unforeseen had occurred.

After trying a third time with no response, she turned her communicator off again and rode back to Marcus.

“Don’t worry,” said Marcus, with a grim smile. “Shelter and a warm fire are waiting for us.”

“I can’t go on,” said Jane. “I’m worried about Steve. I have to go back for him.”

“What?” Marcus frowned sternly. “I warned you he should come with us. Now I have to report to the governor that a party of Cherusci was wandering around looking for trouble. I should do that without delay.”

Jane nodded. She did not want to interfere with Marcus’s normal behavior. “I’ll ride back alone. Our track is clear, so I can’t get lost.”

“No. You will have to come back to the fort with me. I do not have time to wait and I cannot allow you to take that risk. Your slave will probably be fine.”

She knew that he was being completely reasonable, at least from his own viewpoint. However, she had already decided that leaving Steve had been a mistake. The more the team separated, the worse everything seemed to get. Without any other argument to offer, she simply turned her mount and kicked him into a canter, back down the muddy road.

Ishihara had waited motionlessly as he hid in the forest to one side of MC 3’s track. Hunter had not been using his communicator, but Ishihara had heard his party as they hiked through the forest toward him. They had not spoken as they had passed. Ishihara had recognized Hunter and Gene, of course, and had seen that their companion was a local.

As soon as they had passed, he had followed MC 3’s trail through the forest.

Woodsmoke trailed low among the trees in the light rain and reached him about the same time as the sounds of children playing. He stopped on the outskirts of a village, not sure what to do next. From another hiding place in the trees and underbrush, he saw the small component robot, wearing a loincloth fashioned of leafy branches and vines, standing in the village gesturing to some laughing villagers. MC 3 apparently could not speak their language.

Ishihara wanted to confer with Wayne, but his instructions had been clear. He would have to wait until Wayne contacted him. Ishihara turned up his hearing, to stay alert for anyone approaching him, and sat down to wait and watch MC 3. At least he finally had MC 3 in sight.

Wayne watched the darkening sky uncomfortably as he rode behind Steve. The rain fell in a light but steady gray haze. Wayne clearly did not have time to get MC 3 that night, so he would have to spend another night out in the woods in the rain. This time, at least, he possessed enough clothes and food to be reasonably comfortable.

Finally Wayne decided he would have to stop and make camp before darkness fell completely. First, however, he dismounted and carefully tied both the reins and the rope holding Steve securely to a tree. Then he moved into the brush, out of Steve’s hearing.

“Don’t mind me,” Steve shouted derisively after him. “I’ll just wait right here for you.”

“Ishihara? Wayne here,” he said quietly.

“Yes, Wayne.”

“Have you made any progress? And where are you?”

“Yes. I have located MC 3.”

“Where?” Wayne’s heart pounded with excitement. “Can you grab him?”

“Not yet. He has gone into a village and pantomimed for help. The villagers laughed at him, but I think they believe he is crazy or perhaps retarded. Someone tossed him an old tunic to wear and I can see him sitting in the village now. The children are trying to play with him, but he will not respond.”

“Just go in and snatch him.”

“I dare not. I would risk harming humans who I believe would try to defend him.”

“Then go in and claim him as your slave,” Wayne said urgently. “You speak German and he doesn’t. They’ll have to take your word for it.”

“If they are not persuaded, then I shall have revealed my presence for nothing. That may be unwise.”

“Well, then how do you want to handle it?”

“For now, I shall observe him further,” said Ishihara. “I shall act when I am most comfortable under the Laws in doing so.”

“All right. I can’t argue with that,” Wayne said reluctantly. “Give me some idea of which direction you went. I’m going to make camp for the night near the river. You get hold of MC 3 and we’ll join up tomorrow.”

“Agreed.” Ishihara described his route after he had left Wayne.

“Good. Signing off.” Wayne suppressed a smile as he switched off his communicator and returned to Steve. If he had had the help of a robot during his first two missions, he might have succeeded then.

“Have a nice visit with the underbrush?” Steve sneered.

Wayne was in a better mood now and ignored his tone. Leaving the rope tied to the tree, he moved cautiously to Steve’s side. He saw that the loop still held Steve’s upper arms tightly against his torso. “I’ll help you down.”

“Sounds good to me.” Steve swung his leg over the horse and jumped to the ground, where Wayne steadied him. “All right, now what?”

“I’m going to see if I can get a fire started for the night, even though everything seems drenched.”

“Good luck,” Steve said doubtfully. “Look, at least untack the horse and hobble him. He shouldn’t be tied up that way all night.”

Wayne paused. He didn’t know if Steve could get loose, but he was sure that it was possible somehow unless he was careful. However, unsaddling the horse would make Steve’s escape on horseback less likely, so Wayne did not doubt his motive for making this suggestion.

“Yeah. That’s true.” Wayne looked at the bridle for a moment. It had an ordinary buckle on the side of the horse’s head. Carefully, he unbuckled it and found that he could slide the bridle easily over the animal’s ears and off its head. Then he studied the strap that ran under the horse’s abdomen to hold the saddle in place.

“Ignore the wide part,” said Steve. “That’s the girth. Just loosen the cinch — that narrow leather strap up by the bottom edge of the saddle.”

Wayne found the strap, which had been threaded in and out of a metal ring. When he pried the strap loose, the cinch and girth fell to the ground. Then he grabbed the saddle and pulled it off.

All afternoon, while riding with Wayne, Steve had flexed his arm muscles and unobtrusively strained against the loop that bound his upper arms. He could actually bend his elbows and move his hands, but that was not enough to loosen the loop now that the rope was soaked through with rain. Hoping to lure Wayne into letting down his guard, he had decided to be cooperative until a good opportunity to escape eventually developed.

Wayne was not a difficult captor. After hobbling the horse, he untied the free end of the rope holding Steve and let Steve have a moment of privacy in the bushes on the long leash; then he tied that end firmly around the base of a tree, where he sat to guard the knot. Steve sat against another tree, but he had a considerable radius in which he could move, either to sit and lie down or even stand up to stretch his legs. He just couldn’t reach the knot or free his upper arms. The rain lessened to a light drizzle, and under the heavy forest canopy, they were reasonably well sheltered.

Steve sat quietly, watching Wayne. He was especially surprised when Wayne opened the leather bag he was carrying on a thong. Wayne took out a lighter and poured a small amount of lighter fluid into it. Then he gathered up the least damp of the dead leaves and twigs around them, those which had been sheltered from the constant rain and drizzle under dense bushes or overhanging rocks.

Wayne carefully and slowly lighted a tiny, smoky fire and placed more wet kindling near it to dry off. Steve realized that in some way, Wayne had returned to the future. The rope and the leather bag could have been obtained either in Jamaica in the 1600s or here in this time, but that lighter had been manufactured many centuries in the future.

12

STEVE SPENT THE evening tied to the tree, fairly comfortable in the heavy furs that Vicinius and his father had provided. Wayne slowly and meticulously built up the fire and actually kept them both warm. He shared some packaged food of a familiar brand with Steve, but Steve decided not to comment on the fact that Wayne had obviously returned to their own time to get it.

Steve could not figure out how Wayne had managed to do that. Ishihara had been instructed to grab him if he reappeared in Room F-12. Clearly, however, Wayne had returned somehow and had remained free to come back to the forest.

Neither one of them talked. As the evening wore on, Steve grew sleepy; he had spent an active day out in the cold rain and the warmth of the fire made him drowsy. He lay down and closed his eyes, but he listened carefully for the sounds of Wayne’s occasionally placing more sticks on the fire. It hissed and sputtered from rainwater dripping from the trees above, but Wayne was still working to keep it going.

After a while, Steve became aware that he had not heard Wayne feed the fire for some time. He opened his eyes. In the small circle of yellowish firelight, he saw that Wayne was lying down, using the leather bag as a pillow, breathing slowly. The fire had shrunk.

Steve wriggled slowly toward the fire, carefully stopping whenever he rustled dead leaves or twigs under him. Since the ground was damp, the noises were not very loud. Wayne remained asleep and Steve was able to roll up against the glowing embers on the edge of the dying fire. With the heavy fur cloak protecting his arms, he did not hesitate to move the rope holding him up against one of the red coals.

Soon Steve could see that the rope was slowly drying out. Then it began to darken and smolder. At the same time, the stench of singed fur also rose up from the spot.

He turned his face away from the unpleasant smell. Otherwise, he held his position and hoped the burning fur would not awaken Wayne. However, Wayne did not stir.

When the rope finally caught fire, it burned very fast. The loop fell away and Steve sat up promptly, away from the fire. Still careful to be quiet, he untied the free end of the rope from the tree.

Steve wanted to reverse the situation and tie up Wayne. Holding him for Hunter would make the rest of their missions much easier. He also had to get his communicator pin back so he could contact Hunter.

Walking carefully, he moved around the fire toward Wayne, tying a new loop in the end of the rope. Since that had worked to hold him, he knew he could hold Wayne the same way. The problem was getting it over him.

“Hail, stranger,” said a man’s voice in German right behind him.

Startled, Steve whirled around. Several German warriors were just barely visible in the firelight. He recognized a couple of them. They were from Vicinius’s village and were armed with spears.

“Hail,” said Steve, uncertainly.

Suddenly Wayne rolled over and scrambled up, grabbing his leather bag. Steve spun toward him again and threw himself at Wayne’s legs in a flying tackle, the looped rope hanging around one arm. He snagged one of Wayne’s ankles and they both went down, but Wayne kicked free and slipped away.

Steve got up and started after him. Two steps into the brush, however, the rope caught on a tree branch, yanking his arm sharply. He came to a sudden stop.

As Steve turned and pulled his arm free, he could hear Wayne crashing through the underbrush. He doubted he could catch up with him, and he was concerned about the German warriors. With a self-conscious grin, he looked up and shrugged.

“Your name is Steve?” The leader of the group tapped his chest. “I have taken the name Flavius.” He nodded toward the direction Wayne had taken. “We have interrupted something. He is your enemy?”

“Uh, yeah, he is.”

“Shall we track him for you? He cannot have gone far.”

Steve was tempted to accept the offer, but he was afraid these barbarians might be too rough on Wayne. All Steve wanted to do was get him into Hunter’s custody and back to their own time. “No. He’s not that important. But, uh, can you take me back to the village? I’m sort of lost.”

Flavius turned and conferred quietly with his companions for a moment. Then he nodded to Steve. “Of course. We were on our way down the river tonight when we saw your campfire, but you are the guest of Vicinius and our chief, Odover. We will return to the village with you.”

“Thank you. I’d like that.” Steve grinned with relief. “But maybe you could help me find my horse. He’s hobbled around here somewhere.”

“Of course,” said Flavius.

Night was just falling when Vicinius led Hunter and Gene back to the river. Before they actually left the trees for the river bank, however, Vicinius stopped.

“I hear horses,” he said. “That means Romans are present. I do not wish to speak with them.”

“No Roman will harm you while we are with them,” said Hunter, firmly. “I am sure of that. Also, I have heard their voices nearby. Jane is riding one of the horses we hear. We must meet her.”

“I understand.” Vicinius gave an abrupt nod. “I am glad she is well. I will return to the village now. You can find it on your own?”

“Yes.”

“Farewell. I will look for you later in the village.” Vicinius slipped away into the woods.

Hunter could not worry about him. In fact, this was good, because he did not want to cause more Roman and German contact than they had historically experienced. He nodded to Gene and started down the trail.

Jane and a Roman officer rode into view out of the trees a moment later.

“Hail, Jane,” said Hunter.

She laughed. “Hail, Hunter. Good to see you. This is Marcus, a Roman tribune. Marcus, this is the rest of my party, Hunter and Gene.”

“Hail, Tribune.”

“I give you greeting,” said Marcus formally. “I am Marcus Gaius Aemilianus.”

“Greetings,” said Gene.

Jane was looking around anxiously. “Hunter, Steve isn’t with you?”

“No,” said Hunter.

“Something’s wrong. We left him to meet you and started back for the fort. Then I … got worried.” Jane pointedly tapped her communicator pin.

“I understand,” said Hunter.

“I … turned around and came back, and Marcus was good enough to follow me.” Jane shrugged helplessly.

“She is very strong-willed,” said Marcus. “But I would not let her ride off alone. I must warn all of you, however, that the mood of the Cherusci is hostile. I suggest that we return to the safety of our camp.”

“Thank you for your concern and dedication,” said Hunter. “We are glad that Jane is safe.”

“Her slave was mounted. He may well have found his way back to the camp on his own.”

“Where did you leave him?” Gene asked

“At the riverbank, right behind us just a few yards,” said Jane.

“What about his tracks?” Hunter asked. “He must have left tracks in the mud there.”

“It was too dark to see them when we got here,” said Marcus. “And now we must return to camp.”

Hunter knew that he could not argue very hard with Marcus without behaving unlike a trader from Gaul. On the other hand, he could not ignore Steve’s disappearance. He was certain that Steve must have had a surprise confrontation with some German warriors, or possibly even some Romans. That meant that Hunter could not risk calling him on his communicator, for fear the others would overhear him.

“Thank you, Tribune,” said Hunter. “Please take Jane and Gene back to your camp.”

“You should come, too.” Marcus spoke with the authority of an officer accustomed to obedience.

“I shall be fine,” said Hunter patiently. “We appreciate your concern, Tribune. Please see that Jane and Gene are safe for the night. I fully expect to rejoin all of you with Steve in the morning.”

“How can you search in this darkness?” Marcus demanded. “With these clouds we’ve had all week, no moonlight is going to help you. Searching at night is a waste of time.”

“We deeply appreciate your hospitality,” said Hunter. “I shall be fine.”

“I must insist —”

“Let’s go,” Jane said to Marcus. “Arguing with him is a waste of time. He’ll be all right.”

“You two are much too fond of this slave,” said Marcus, shaking his head. “Come on, then.” He stretched an arm down toward Gene, to help him mount.

Gene took his arm and tried to jump up behind Marcus. Hunter stepped forward and helped lift him all the way up. When Gene was secure, Marcus turned his mount and rode away, with Jane behind him.

Hunter was worried about Steve, but at least he was free to stop his masquerade for the benefit of Vicinius or Marcus. He moved down the trail and magnified his vision to maximum light reception. Enough moonlight showed through the clouds for him to find his way, and he quickly found the tracks where Steve had walked his horse to the river and back. He also identified the spot where Steve had apparently fallen and been dragged into the woods.

From there, the horse’s tracks led downstream. He followed them until they led him into forest. Under the trees, the forest was simply too dark even for Hunter’s considerable light sensitivity. Marcus was right; he could not track Steve here in the darkness.

Hunter considered his options. He could still go to the Roman camp, arriving a little late, but it was clear from the tracks that Steve had not gone in that direction. The next morning he would be starting the search over again.

He could also spend the night where he was and begin the search from his present location at first light. As a robot with ample energy stored, he would be safe, especially under the forest canopy. He could even shut himself down except for his emergency communicator reception.

Hunter decided to take his final option, and return to the village of Vicinius and Odover. He had stored all of his movements around the forest in his memory, giving him a local map of any area he had seen. In such poor light, finding his way through the forest would be slow and clumsy, but in the village he could at least maintain his rapport with Vicinius. On the way, he would turn up his hearing for any sign of Steve.

He turned to orient himself and began the hike through the forest to the village.

Jane was very cold and tired by the time Marcus led them into the new Roman camp. It was laid out exactly like the previous one. The sound of falling axes she had heard was reflected in the new palisade wall surrounding the camp. The courtyard was lighted by torches placed around the inside of the palisade and she gratefully reined up behind Marcus and Gene at the stable. Her fur cloak had kept most of her dry, but her leggings and boots had been soaked through with rain by midday and her lower legs and feet ached with the cold. She dismounted with relief when the groom came to hold her bridle.

“To the governor’s tent,” Marcus said abruptly. He marched quickly toward it.

Gene grinned at Jane. “It’s been a long day.”

She smiled weakly, nodding.

At the entrance to the governor’s tent, a sentry saluted Marcus and drew the flap open for him. Marcus stepped inside and saluted, while Jane and Gene stopped behind him, still out in the rain.

“Come in, Tribune,” said Governor Varus. “Are your companions with you?”

“Yes, Governor.” Marcus moved out of the way and gestured for them to follow him.

Jane slipped inside first and made room for Gene. The tent was lighted with four standing oil lamps, burning brightly in each corner. Governor Varus, warmly dressed in heavy woolen tunics, sat in a backless chair and sipped from a goblet of wine while Demetrius cleared the dishes from the table.

“This is the coldest, foulest night we’ve had yet this year,” said Governor Varus, gesturing to the oil lamps. “Please warm yourselves. Demetrius, bring their meals.”

Jane eased back her hood and shook out her hair, then held her hands near the flames. Gene joined her. Marcus moved to one of the other lamps to do the same.

“I’m glad you caught up with us again. It wasn’t too difficult, I trust.” Governor Varus looked up at Gene. “This must be your lost friend.”

“No, sir,” said Marcus. “This man is called Gene Titus. He is one of the lady’s party from Gaul. Gene, this is Governor Varus of this province.”

“Pleased to meet you,” said Gene.

“Good evening. Come in and get warm. You are welcome here, of course.”

“Thank you.”

“But where is your slave?” The Governor addressed Jane. “Tending the horses or something of that sort? Yesterday, he hardly left your side.”

“He didn’t come back with us.”

“No? What happened to him?”

“Her slave is now lost in the forest,” said Marcus. “For her sake, I hope he is well.”

“So, Tribune,” said Governor Varus. “Bad fortune in finding your lost friend, eh? The one you started searching for in the first place.”

“Worse than that, sir,” said Marcus, unstrapping his helmet and pulling it off.

“Eh?”

“Late this afternoon we were confronted by a band of Cherusci warriors.”

Governor Varus raised his eyebrows. “Go on.”

“Governor, I am certain that trouble is on the way,” said Marcus.

“Why are you so sure?”

“They had no particular business there by the river and frankly, they had nothing to say.” Marcus set his helmet down at his feet and continued warming his hands. “Foul climate,” he muttered.

“What did they say?”

“Virtually nothing,” said Marcus. “But they made a point of coming out of the trees to be seen.”

Governor Varus chuckled and sipped his wine. “That hardly constitutes a rebellion, Marcus.”

“It was a small show of force to a lone tribune out with a civilian.”

“Or perhaps it was a chance meeting in the forest and nothing more.”

“Some kind of trouble is brewing, sir.”

Demetrius entered with a tray of food and began laying it out on the table.

“Oh, I doubt it. After all, that’s rather routine.” Governor Varus held out his goblet for Demetrius to refill. “Sit down, please, all of you. Marcus, I shall listen to you as all of you warm up and enjoy your dinner.”

13

“MARCUS, YOU SIMPLY expect too much from these barbarians,” said Governor Varus.

Jane and Gene took their seats. Marcus sat down last, sighing wearily. Demetrius moved behind Governor Varus and stood patiently.

“Let’s ask our guests.” Governor Varus turned to Jane. “You saw these Germans?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did they threaten you in any way?”

“No,” Jane said hesitantly. She was aching to warn him, to convince him of the disaster he would fall into very soon. The reason was not that she had a great liking for the Romans as a group, but simply because she was uncomfortable knowing that so many Romans would soon be walking into a trap. Now that she was actually talking to two of them, they no longer seemed like mere historical figures. Of course, she knew she could not say anything that would even hint that Marcus was right. Instead, she would have to remain as neutral as possible, so as not to influence these two Romans.

“No. Were they armed?”

“They had spears,” said Jane. “That’s all I remember.” She picked up her wine goblet, as much to hide behind it as to drink from it.

“That’s often all these barbarians have,” said Governor Varus calmly. He turned to Gene. “How about you? Did you see them?”

“No, Governor. I had not joined them yet.”

“I see. Then let me ask the two of you another question entirely.”

“Of course,” said Gene.

“Perhaps I have been too hard on my tribune,” said Governor Varus. “As I understand it, you have come here from Gaul, which means you passed through much of this province.”

“Yes, sir,” said Gene, watching him carefully.

Jane was glad to let him field the questions. After all, as the historian on the team, he had the best chance to pass as a real trader. She was too nervous to feel hungry, but she forced herself to eat, in order to keep busy.

“So in your travels, how were you received?” Governor Varus asked. “You must have visited many villages of the Cherusci before you got here.”

“We were welcomed,” said Gene. “At that time, we had a few modest gifts to present to the village elders.”

“Ah, yes. They are sometimes like children with new playthings. Did they talk to you about us Romans?”

“Not particularly,” said Gene. He looked at Jane innocently. “Do you recall?”

“No.” She shook her head.

Governor Varus nodded.

“I’m afraid I’m quite ignorant of political matters,” said Jane. She was sure that Romans of this time would accept that readily from a woman.

“German hostility has never died,” said Marcus, looking up from his plate. “They like to buy our goods, but that’s all. I suppose they see you traders as their friends, where we soldiers will always be their enemies.”

“Where were you stationed before you came here?” Jane asked Marcus, hoping to turn the conversation away from the German rebellion.

“In Rome itself,” said Marcus. He caught her eye and grinned at her. “The climate is so much nicer there. Have you ever been to Rome?”

“No.” Jane suppressed a smile. She had been to Rome in her own time, but it was not the Rome Marcus knew.

“Have you seen the emperor?” Gene asked, sounding excited by the prospect.

“Oh, yes,” said Marcus. “My cohort marched past him in review several times. I saw Emperor Augustus standing and watching us from a balcony.”

“Marcus, I believe you may be making a conquest.” Amused, Governor Varus stood up and slipped a heavy cloak over his shoulders. “Please continue your meal at your leisure. I wish to take a walk. Demetrius, remain here and see to them.” He stepped out of the tent.

Jane watched Marcus, trying not to laugh at his embarrassment. To rescue him, she asked, “How about gladiators? Did you watch them fight?”

“Oh, yes,” said Marcus. “It can be quite interesting. They are often very good, though of course it is not the same as soldiering.”

“But they must be very good fighters.”

“In their specialized duels, yes. For instance, one man will have a long net and a trident. He fights a man with a sword and a small shield.” He frowned slightly. “The man with the net always seems to win. Those who assign the weapons dictate who lives and dies.”

“You don’t approve?” Gene asked cautiously.

“Soldiering is an honorable profession,” said Marcus. “We serve the Empire. It requires discipline, teamwork, and duty. The gladiators are slaves.”

Gene said nothing.

“You miss Rome, don’t you?” Jane decided to change the subject.

“Yes, that is no secret. But a tribune can’t earn the respect of his troops in Rome. For that, he has to go to the frontier and serve.”

“The name Aemilianus is old and well-known,” said Gene. “You must be well educated, I would guess.”

“Yes. I learned Greek and studied the works of Homer and the great philosophers.”

Jane remained quiet as Gene and Marcus discussed Greek philosophy. She probably knew a little more about it than most women of Gaul in this time, but the less she had to converse with Marcus, the better off she would be. When they had all finished eating, she waited for a moment when she could break into the conversation.

“I’m very tired,” she said. “I’m afraid I’m not used to so much riding. I would like to go to sleep.”

“Of course,” said Marcus. “My tent is yours again. Uh, would you …” He glanced uncertainly at Gene.

“Our party normally remains together,” said Jane.

“As you wish, of course.”

As soon as Jane and Gene were in their tent, Jane called Hunter.

“Jane here. Can you hear me, Hunter?”

“Hunter here. Where are you, Jane?”

“Gene and I are in the new Roman camp. We don’t know anything about Steve, though.”

“I lost his tracks in the darkness,” said Hunter. “I am slowly moving back toward Vicinius’s village. I shall resume my search in the morning. You two are well?”

“Yes, we’re fine.”

“I am glad. Please call me in the morning when you can. Since you are in the Roman camp, I shall not risk calling you. Hunter out.”

Ishihara spent the early evening outside the village into which MC 3 had gone. MC 3 continued to play with the children, tossing sticks and running through the village with them. He was clearly trying to establish a rapport with the villagers and the adults were simply ignoring him.

As Ishihara observed MC 3 from the forest, he also carefully watched the village dogs to see if they caught his scent. They did not. In part this was because, as a robot, he did not have a normal human scent and partly because the constant rain had driven the dogs into the huts.

He waited patiently as the villagers called their children and carried their dinners into the huts, out of the rain. Two of the children carried a bowl of food to MC 3, which he accepted, though he stayed a polite distance away from all the huts. He stood alone in the courtyard of the village, waiting patiently.

Eventually the families came out to douse their cookfires and begin chasing the children into the huts. One of the older children gestured for MC 3 to come in, too. MC 3 looked hesitantly at the father of the child, who nodded offhandedly for him to join them.

Ishihara noted which hut MC 3 entered. He was not entirely sure of what he would do, but this was his best chance yet to approach MC 3 without a crowd of humans who might protect him. Ishihara hoped to grab MC 3 somehow without risking a First Law violation by struggling with humans.

The village elders left sentries posted around the village when the rest of the villagers went inside for the night. For a while, the sentries paced about, talking and looking around under the sputtering torches they each carried.

As the night wore on, however, the sentries sat down around one small fire that remained lighted, feeding it occasionally. One of them pulled out an earthenware jug and passed it around. One by one, each sentry gradually leaned back against a tree trunk or stretched out under the overhanging thatched roof of a hut and dozed off.

Ishihara suspected that sentries were not normally posted in the village at night. He~ad overheard some of the conversation held by Hunter’s team before they had left for this mission and he knew that trouble between the Germans and Romans was coming. That would explain the presence of the sentries. It also explained their carelessness.

When all the sentries had had time to fall into a fairly deep sleep, Ishihara slowly and patiently began moving toward the village. He was still concerned about the village dogs, too, but the constant spattering of the rain on the trees and the huts and the ground helped disguise the sound of his movements. In the darkness, with a care that few humans had the patience for, he took one step at a time toward the village.

Ishihara spent almost an hour moving thirty yards through the dense forest. Neither the sentries nor the dogs stirred.

Now that Ishihara was in the muddy clearing in the center of the village, he was more concerned about the excellent hearing of the dogs in the huts. He paused and magnified his hearing. The sentries and all the other humans he could hear were breathing deeply and evenly.

The villagers were not likely to be awakened by a slight sound. The breathing of the village dogs varied much more. Then another sound reached him, the faint crackling and cracking of wood. It was very faint and came from the back of the hut into which MC 3 had gone.

Certain that MC 3 was escaping, Ishihara abandoned his concern over making noise and ran around the hut. After the first hard, wet slap of his footsteps, the loud snap of wood breaking came from the back of the hut. Dogs began to bark all over the village and a couple of sentries called to each other in rough, surprised voices. Ishihara heard the sentries’ wet, splashing feet as they ran after him.

Behind the hut, a flash of one of the torches carried by the lead sentry allowed Ishihara to glimpse MC 3 disappearing into the forest. A quick glance at the back of the hut told him that MC 3 had simply broken through a plank in the rear of the hut to escape. Ishihara ran after MC 3, suddenly realizing that MC 3 must have turned his own robotic hearing up to maximum in order to detect the slight sounds Ishihara had made as he approached the hut.

“I am R. Ishihara, a humaniform robot,” Ishihara radioed to MC 3. “I order you to stop under a First Law emergency.” He repeated the message, but he could hear that MC 3 was still crashing through the underbrush ahead.

MC 3 probably had kept his communicator shut off. Ishihara also shouted the message a couple of times, but MC 3 did not respond. He might have shut off his hearing as well.

Up ahead, Ishihara heard leaves suddenly move just overhead. The sound of more leaves shaking and some twigs snapping told him that MC 3 had jumped up to a tree branch and was climbing overhead to escape. Using his hearing more than his sight in the dark forest, Ishihara followed MC 3 up into the trees.

Climbing through the dripping trees was slow and difficult, but Ishihara quickly heard the German warriors behind him drop back. They were not eager to pursue a mysterious intruder in the dark. After shouting angrily into the night, they returned to the village.

MC 3 was moving from one tree to the next either by jumping and grabbing another branch or by swinging hand over hand between branches. Ishihara followed him by doing the same. He was taller than MC 3 and had an advantage in both arm reach and overall strength. Little by little, he gained on his quarry.

Ishihara heard MC 3 suddenly drop in three controlled jumps from branch to branch back to the ground. Caught off guard, Ishihara moved back down more carefully, losing ground as he did so. Because he weighed considerably more than MC 3, fewer branches could bear his weight.

As soon as he was on the ground, MC 3 darted through the forest on foot. Ishihara finally jumped to the ground and ran after him. In the darkness, Ishihara could see virtually nothing. He was not specialized for a search, the way Hunter was, and lacked the infrared vision which would have allowed him to glimpse MC 3 by the heat he generated in the cold forest. He could, however, hear that MC 3 was also having trouble fleeing in the dark. Neither one of them was moving very quickly.

Ishihara heard branches snapping up ahead as MC 3 crashed into a bush, then a slapping sound as he fell onto the wet ground. Focusing on the noise, Ishihara took two more quick strides and blindly threw himself forward. With one hand, he snagged MC 3’s ankle and held on.

MC 3 tripped, got up, and tried to scramble away. Ishihara’s grip was firm, however, and he got to his feet, yanking MC 3’s foot out from under him at the same time. MC 3 fell, with Ishihara still holding his ankle.

“Listen to me,” Ishihara said aloud. He repeated the statement through his communication link, but MC 3 did not respond. Ishihara decided that trying to communicate was a waste of time and energy. He bent down to grip MC 3’s right arm and released his ankle. Then he pulled MC 3 to his feet.

MC 3 was not resisting now, but he was tense, ready to run again if he thought it was worth the effort.

Ishihara did not have the device that triggered the time travel sphere. Wayne had kept it. Ishihara would have to join him with MC 3 before they could return to their own time.

Wayne had told him not to call him. Ishihara turned toward where he had last known Wayne to be and began to work his way in that direction. In his firm hold, MC 3 walked with him, not struggling.

14

WAYNE HAD PLUNGED through the forest in a panic to escape Steve when the German warriors distracted him. He had slammed his forehead into a low-hanging branch and fallen several times. Twice he had crashed into bushes and flailed blindly to get free. Finally, lost in the dark and out of breath, he had realized that no one had chased him.

When Wayne heard Steve lead his horse away with the Germans, he returned to his dying fire. He built it up slightly and lay awake in the wet forest for a long time, listening for more trouble. Finally, however, he stretched out and went to sleep again.

At dawn, he awoke stiff with cold but somewhat rested. The sky was gray but the rain had stopped for the moment. The fire had gone out and starting it again was too much work. He pulled a strip of commercially prepared beef jerky from his own time out of his pack and munched on it.

Wayne did not dare linger any longer. Steve could find Hunter and lead him back here. Wayne turned away from the river and began hiking in the general direction Ishihara had taken.

“I hate this,” he muttered out loud to himself. “No matter what I do, something goes wrong.” He reached for his communicator pin to call Ishihara.

After a hearty breakfast, Marcus rode out of the Roman camp with Jane by his side and Gene riding on the far side of her. He had agreed to help them search for Steve and their other lost friend. This time, he had taken one precaution. He had ordered a decury of cavalry, ten legionaries, to ride with them. Marcus did not intend to be caught unprepared again by any German warriors, and with everyone mounted, they would be able to run from a German force of any size.

He sneaked another glance at Jane, who had protested earnestly against his ordering the decury to accompany them.

“I confess you puzzle me,” he said politely. “I should have thought you would be pleased to have a small squadron of cavalry to ride along this morning.”

“You have been very courteous and considerate,” said Jane. “But I really don’t want to interfere with your army business.”

“Oh, I think the Roman legions can manage their business today without us,” Marcus said lightly, smiling at her. “They are still on the march today, and ten fewer cavalrymen will not even be missed.”

Jane smiled tightly and glanced at Gene. “Maybe Gene and I should go out on our own. I would prefer not to trouble you any more than we have already.”

“It would not be a problem,” Gene said.

“Nonsense,” said Marcus. “You are no bother at all. I am happy to accompany you. With good fortune, we may chance across more German warriors today and learn something of their intentions.”

“I hope we don’t meet any of them,” Jane said quietly, exchanging another glance with Gene.

“We have nothing to fear from a small party,” said Marcus. “And a large number of Germans will not be mounted, so we can ride away from them. I assure you both that I will see to your safety.”

“Thank you,” Jane said, with a weak smile. “You’re very … conscientious.”

Ishihara had made very little progress during the night. MC 3 alternately went limp, tried to wrestle away, or grabbed tree trunks with his free arm or even his legs as Ishihara tried to pull him through the dark forest. Ishihara did not have any way to communicate verbally with MC 3, as long as the component robot kept both his communication link and his hearing shut off, nor would he have had the authority of the Second Law over MC 3 in any case. All he could do was push, drag, and pull the smaller robot with him.

At dawn, Ishihara was able to see well enough to avoid colliding with as many bushes and trees as he had been in the darkness. He located his own trail, leading from where he had left Wayne to the German village, and backtracked. By midmorning, however, he had still made only a little progress.

Ishihara considered calling Wayne several times, but could not justify it to himself. The Second Law required that he obey Wayne’s clear instruction not to call him, and Ishihara could not yet make a firm interpretation of a First Law problem that would require him to violate it. Dragging MC 3 through the forest was difficult and time-consuming, but it did not imply any particular danger to humans that Ishihara could see.

Steve had been very relieved to return to the German village late at night. Vicinius’s hut was much drier and warmer than the damp ground next to Wayne’s campfire had been. As he shared breakfast with Vicinius on yet another gray, chilly morning, Hunter walked out of the forest to join them. After they had all exchanged greetings, Hunter politely accepted a bowl of hot gruel.

“You have not found your friends,” said Vicinius. “In fact, since you first came to visit us, you have lost two more of your party.” He grinned. “I have not been much help to you; I can see that.”

“You have been an excellent host,” said Hunter. He turned to Steve. “I am glad to see you well. Do you have a suggestion for finding Jane and Gene today?”

“Well, I might.” Steve understood that Hunter was speaking in a kind of code because Vicinius was with them. He chose his words carefully in return. “I lost a good luck charm last night.” He patted the spot where he usually wore his communicator pin. “And I was tied up briefly by an old adversary of ours. He took my … charm.”

“You have an enemy in this forest?” Vicinius turned in surprise. “Do not fear. Tell us where to find him. My friends and I will slay him for you.”

“Not a blood enemy,” Hunter said quickly. “He is, uh, a fellow trader. We do not want him killed.” He looked at Steve. “You do mean Dr. Wayne Nystrom?”

“Yes.”

“We would like to tie him up and take him with us, however,” Hunter added.

“Why?” Vicinius looked back and forth between them. “If he is an enemy, you must kill him. If he is a friend, you would not talk about him this way.”

“He might know stuff we want to know,” said Steve quickly. “We might learn something from him.”

“Ah! So you want to torture him for information.” Vicinius nodded his understanding.

“No!” Hunter said sharply. “We … would like to take him back to Gaul with us to discuss business.”

“No, no,” said Vicinius, now shaking his head. “You Gauls are too soft.”

“Maybe we are.” Steve laughed and watched Hunter to see how he would react.

Vicinius caught his look, however. “I will be glad to help you, of course. This man is your concern, not mine.”

“Maybe Flavius can tell you where he and his friends found me last night,” said Steve.

“Your tracks will be easy to find,” said Vicinius. “The rain has let up since yesterday.”

“I have a Roman horse,” Steve said to Hunter. “Vicinius and I can ride while you walk.”

“Excellent,” said Hunter. “When will you be ready?”

“Any time,” said Steve.

“I will get my spear,” said Vicinius.

By midday, Ishihara had not yet reached the spot where he had left Wayne. MC 3’s resistance had slowed him to less than half of his normal speed. The day had otherwise been uneventful. Then he picked up the distant sounds of humans moving on foot through the forest behind him.

Instantly, he shifted his hearing to maximum. The humans seemed to be following his trail. He suspected they were from the village he was fleeing. If they had started trailing him at dawn, they might have needed all morning to draw this close to him.

This was the rationale Ishihara needed to call Wayne. If he lost MC 3, then their mission to save their own timestream would be endangered again. “Ishihara calling Wayne Nystrom. Do you read, sir?”

He was still dragging and half-carrying MC 3 through the brush as he radioed his message repeatedly. When he finally realized that Wayne was not going to answer, he became more concerned, but could do nothing except keep going. Since the humans behind him were slowly gaining ground, he encircled MC 3’s waist with his arms and lifted the smaller robot off the ground.

MC 3 still kicked and struggled, but Ishihara began carrying him, hoping to leave his pursuers behind. However, MC 3 grabbed a tree branch with both hands and hung onto it. Ishihara wrenched him free, but could see that he was not going to be able to move much faster than he had been already. He turned to look behind him, peering through the trees for a sign of the Germans.

“Help!” MC 3 shouted suddenly in modern English. “Help! This way! Over here!”

Ishihara yanked him forward, trying to run. MC 3 could not have heard their pursuit with his hearing shut off, but he had surmised their presence by Ishihara’s actions. Ishihara pulled and shoved MC 3, but did not accomplish much. The smaller robot was as persistent and stubborn as he was, driven by the Third Law of Robotics to protect himself.

Shouts rose up from the men behind them. The German warriors could not have understood MC 3’5 exact words, but they understood his panicked tone. Ishihara heard them calling encouragement as they came crashing through the brush toward him. He recognized the loudest voice as belonging to the warrior who called himself Julius.

Ishihara ran through his limited options. He could continue to wrestle with MC 3 and be surrounded by Julius and his warriors. If he did that, he would have to attempt convincing the Germans that he had the right to carry off MC 3. He judged the likelihood of success to be extremely poor. His other option was to release MC 3, keep away from the Germans himself, and attempt to recapture him later. This second option would allow him freedom to carry out future plans with Wayne Nystrom to help.

Ishihara let go of MC 3, who instantly ran back toward the humans pursuing them.

At the same time, Ishihara turned and ran as fast as he could through the forest. Without the help of a human who could impose the authority of the Three Laws of Robotics on MC 3, capturing him again was probably a waste of time. Finding Wayne again was his top priority.

“Ishihara, come in,” Wayne said quietly, as he hiked through the woods. “You there?”

“Yes, Wayne.”

“Let’s keep it short so we don’t get our messages intercepted. Report on MC 3.”

“I had him in custody for most of the night. When local German warriors approached us, I released him.”

“What? Why?” Wayne was horrified.

“They were about to stop us. MC 3 has befriended them in some way. I could not fight them off without risking violation of the First Law. I judged that rejoining you would give us the opportunity to take him into custody again.”

“Well … I see. Where are you?”

“I am on my way back to where we separated.”

“I’m not far from there,” said Wayne. “I’m working my way toward you. Do you have a reading on my position yet from the radio signal?”

“I have an approximate one. Without being able to triangulate, I need to monitor your signal continuously for maximum efficiency.”

“I can’t risk that. I still don’t want Hunter to chance across our signal. I’ll call you again after a while and let you judge by the strength of the radio signal how much closer we are to each other.”

“Understood.”

“Wayne out.” He indulged in a brief smile, despite the cold and the dampness, and marched on through the forest.

On his first time trip, back to the Late Cretaceous, he had actually got control of Hunter under the second Law for a short time. That had brought him pretty close to gaining control of MC 1, until Hunter’s human team members had interfered. Then on his second trip, back to Jamaica in the 1600s, he had been able to enlist the help of local buccaneers who had actually grabbed MC 2 for a while. He just hadn’t been able to take him back to their own time himself. Now he could see that he had been wise to bring Ishihara, though it had been Ishihara’s idea. A robot was the best help of all.

If Wayne could just avoid having Hunter find out that Ishihara was here and helping him, he would have a real advantage. Steve could only tell him that Wayne was here; he didn’t know about Ishihara. Unless they ran across Ishihara out in the forest by chance, the only way Hunter could learn about Ishihara’s presence would be to intercept their radio messages.

“Hey — am I asleep, or what? I can listen in, too,” Wayne said to himself aloud. He fumbled for the communicator pin he had taken from Steve. It was the same as his own, except that it would already be set for whatever frequency Hunter’s team had been using. He turned it on and pinned it on his shoulder next to his own. All he heard at first was static, but that would change sooner or later, assuming Hunter’s team was in range. “I should have thought of this right away.”

Wayne hiked for quite a long time. Twice, he called Ishihara to check their positions. They were quickly approaching each other.

“Hunter, Jane here.” Her voice came over Steve’s communicator pin.

Wayne stopped where he was, one leg over a fallen log, to listen.

“Yes, Jane.”

“Gene and I are with Marcus, but this morning he ordered an entire decury to ride with us. I’m afraid we’re really changing some people’s lives here.”

“Where are you now?

“We’re riding back down to the spot where we saw you last night. I told the guys I need another private moment in the bushes; as the only woman here, I don’t have to worry about anyone joining me. They’re all very protective.”

“Steve and I met again this morning in the village of Vicinius and Odover,” said Hunter. “But look out. Wayne is here and he tied up Steve for part of last night, till Steve got away.”

“That explains what happened to him. What about MC 3?”

“All we really know is that Wayne did not have him either, as recently as last night. MC 3 is still in the area somewhere.”

“What do you want to do, Hunter? I can’t talk much longer or they’ll worry about me.”

“We should reunite the team,” said Hunter. “We shall move in your direction and try to meet you sometime today.”

Wayne smiled to himself. Hunter was temporarily too distracted even to go after MC 3. He and Ishihara had a good shot at getting him first.

15

JANE REJOINED MARCUS, Gene, and the cavalry patrol with a cheerful smile and they all rode on. She had not had time to ask Hunter how he felt about the fact that Marcus had ordered the patrol to join them. Of course, she realized that the German rebellion was the major event that had to remain unchanged. This little patrol probably could not prevent that.

Marcus had ordered the decurion, the commanding officer of the patrol, to concentrate on the chore of finding their way. Meanwhile, Marcus had been talking with Jane. Normally, she would have been flattered by his attention, but she was so afraid of saying something she shouldn’t that she did not want to speak.

“I have never been to Gaul,” said Marcus. “Do you like it there?”

“Yes,” said Jane. “What’s it like?”

“Well …” She tried to remember what she could about the climate, but she had only visited France for a short time. “The south of Gaul is very warm.”

“Along the Mediterranean, yes, it would be. Much like the Italian coast, I expect.” Marcus looked up at the gray sky. “The drizzle should start again any time, I suppose. I wish we had the climate of the southern coast here.” He grinned at her. “A lady like yourself should not have to suffer through this constant cold and dampness.”

Jane smiled politely but said nothing.

“I hear Gaul has few towns, as we Romans would know them, except for the ones we built.”

Jane glanced uncomfortably at Gene.

“That’s true,” said Gene. “Gaul is not too unlike Germany, except for Roman influence.”

Marcus nodded politely, but turned to Jane again. “What sort of family do you come from? Do you have many brothers and sisters?”

“I’m one of nine,” Jane said truthfully. “Five brothers and three sisters.”

“Ah! No deaths in childbirth? And you have all lived to adulthood?”

“That’s right.” She suppressed a smile of amusement.

“You come from strong, healthy stock.” He grinned at her in obvious approval.

“Yes, I guess so.” She was tempted to reciprocate by asking him about his own family, but she decided against it. Marcus clearly liked her, and she could not encourage his friendship without risking a change in his behavior toward his duties.

“So tell me,” said Marcus. “Do you come from a town in Gaul? Or a small tribal village?”

“I’m from a town,” said Jane.

“Was your father a trader, also?”

“Oh, no.”

“Tribune,” Gene interrupted. “We’ve been riding over half a day. I thought we probably would have seen some German warriors by now.”

“Yes, where are they?” Jane glanced at Gene gratefully. He apparently understood her predicament and was still trying to distract Marcus for her.

“I am sure they have seen us,” said Marcus. “Our horses make enough noise to give them plenty of warning, especially in these numbers.”

“Why haven’t they come out to speak to us?” Jane asked, to prevent him from turning the talk to her again.

“They don’t want to reveal themselves because today we have too many armed men with us.”

“Wait a minute,” said Jane, trying to sound as naive as she could. “You mean they’ve been watching us in secret?”

“Indeed they have.”

“How do you know?”

Marcus pointed to a flock of birds suddenly fluttering out of the trees into the sky up ahead. “I believe some German scouts are withdrawing ahead of us, simply watching to see what we will do. The birds give them away sometimes.”

“Maybe we’ll join up with Hunter and Steve soon,” said Jane. “Then we can stop troubling you.”

“We should probably go back to Gaul,” said Gene. “And not get in your way.”

“Don’t worry about the Germans today,” said Marcus, with a grim smile. “Whatever the Germans are planning, I believe it is very big, even if Governor Varus won’t listen to me. If the scouts watching us wanted to cause trouble, they would have started already, I think. And we’re ready for them now.”

Jane and Gene exchanged an uncomfortable glance but said nothing more.

They all rode in silence for a while. The cold wind rose again, and the gray clouds above them darkened. Drizzle began to fall, blowing directly into their faces.

“Perhaps someday I can take you to the coast of Latium, down the Tiber River from Rome,” Marcus said to Jane. “It is so much nicer than this on an autumn day. I would like to show it to you.”

Just as Jane lifted the hood of her cloak and tugged it forward, she heard a chorus of yells from the forest. In the same instant, a Roman bugler behind her sounded an alarm. When she looked around, she saw German warriors leaping and running out of the trees toward them, hurling spears and shooting arrows. She recognized the man in the lead as Julius, who had confronted Marcus the previous day.

Jane yanked her reins to move away. At the same time, the Roman patrol moved up to surround her and Gene. Their shields deflected the volley of spears and arrows. Marcus shouted orders she could not understand in all the other yelling.

She fumbled for her lapel pin and switched it on, knowing that none of the Romans or Germans were paying any attention. Before she could speak, a small figure, dressed in rags, caught her attention in the trees behind the line of Germans. MC 3, who was identical to MC 1 and MC 2, was trying to wrestle a spear away from a much larger German warrior.

“What’s wrong?” Gene yelled. “Doesn’t it work? Do you want me to call Hunter instead?”

“Hunter!” She kept her eyes on MC 3. “It’s Jane! Emergency! Hunter?”

“Yes, Jane.” Hunter’s voice was calm but authoritative. “I am on my way, following your signal. Please explain. And do not disconnect, as I shall need a continuing signal from you in order to find you as quickly as possible.”

Jane’s mount was still prancing in the center of the struggling Romans. Everyone around her was shouting. She yanked on the reins, fighting to keep control. “Our group is being attacked by a bunch of German warriors —”

“How do the numbers match up on each side?” Hunter interrupted.

“Uh, almost equal. There are more Germans, I think, but not a lot more, and they don’t have horses or armor. But, Hunter — MC 3 is with the Germans!”

“I am coming,” Hunter said firmly. “Keep your pin switched on. You do not need to continue speaking; I have enough noise coming through.”

“Did you get him?” Gene shouted. He ducked as an arrow whistled near his head. “What did he say?”

“He’s coming!” Jane leaned down low, not sure of what to do. Between the moving, clashing bodies around them, she could still glimpse MC 3 in the trees, still trying to interfere with a German warrior.

“What should we do?” Gene was also down low against his horse’s neck.

“Just wait! And hang on!” Jane saw MC 3 again and straightened up in her saddle. “MC 3! Stop and move aside! That’s an order!”

MC 3 did not respond. She knew he probably had not heard her voice in the shouting of all the fighting men and the clanging of swords against shields. In any case, he was now responding to the First Law in a feeble attempt to minimize the violence occurring in front of him. A Second Law instruction would not deter him at the moment.

Around her and Gene, the outnumbered Romans still fought to protect them.

Steve was riding double with Vicinius, following Hunter through the forest, when Hunter suddenly whirled around.

“I need your horse,” said Hunter, striding back to them. “I must go.” He tapped his shoulder in the same spot where Steve had worn his lapel communicator.

“Uh — of course,” said Steve, understanding that Hunter had received a call from Jane or Gene. “But, maybe we should all go together?”

“No, Steve. I must hurry. You will remain with Vicinius.” Hunter reached up to take Steve under his arms; the big robot lifted him to the ground as if he were a small child.

Taking the hint, Vicinius jumped to the ground on his own.

“Vicinius,” said Hunter. “I do not have time to explain. But you will protect Steve for me?”

“Of course,” said Vicinius, clearly puzzled. “Of course.”

“You may follow at your own pace, provided you are very careful. I shall rejoin you as soon as I can.” Hunter mounted quickly and rode away through the forest, leaning low to avoid tree branches.

“I heard nothing,” said Vicinius, with a mystified expression on his face. “I saw nothing. What is he doing?”

“I, uh, didn’t hear anything, either,” said Steve. “And I didn’t see anything.”

Vicinius turned to look him in the eye. “Then I ask you, what is he doing? What is so important that he must leave us this way?”

“Well … sometimes Hunter reads omens that the rest of us do not notice.”

“Omens?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Steve shrugged. “Not real often. But sometimes he just has to, uh, act on them.”

“Your friend is more than a little strange,” said Vicinius. “I like him, but he is quite strange.”

“Come on,” said Steve, hoping to change the subject. “We can follow him. Let’s go.”

As Hunter rode through the heavy forest, he radioed MC 3 again. He received no response, which did not surprise him. Jane no longer spoke to him directly, but her communicator was still transmitting. He heard the shouts of many men, the whinnying of horses, and the clanging of metal.

Before he got close enough to hear the sounds of struggle with his own hearing, rather than the communication link, the sounds of struggle coming over the radio stopped as well. For several moments, he heard only the clopping of horse’s hooves.

“They’re gone,” Jane muttered quietly. “Gene and I are okay. Right, Gene?”

“Yeah,” said Gene, his voice sounding distant in the background.

“Decurion,” Marcus ordered, his voice even fainter. “Give me an injury report.”

Hunter could hear the decurion respond, but the signal was now too faint even for him to interpret. He was deeply concerned about harm to any humans who would not have been injured without the presence of his team. For now, however, all he could do was hurry in their direction as fast as he could.

Before Hunter drew near the site of the attack, the source of the signal began to move, as Jane rode away with the patrol. Now that the sounds of battle no longer covered his voice, he did not dare speak to Jane again, nor could she say anything to him directly. However, she did continue a stream of small talk with Gene, which provided him with a clear, strong signal to follow. The Roman patrol had clearly changed direction; Hunter guessed that they were returning to the main body of Roman legions to avoid further trouble with hostile Germans.

Steve and Vicinius hurried after Hunter, but of course they had no chance of catching up until he stopped somewhere. When Hunter’s tracks began to curve in a new direction, Steve guessed that Jane and Gene had begun to move, but he had no idea where they were going. As his determined strides gradually faltered from weariness, Steve decided to take a break.

“Sorry, Vicinius.” He stopped near a fallen log. “I’m not used to this kind of mountain country. I have to rest for a few minutes.” He sat down.

“Well … of course.” Vicinius reluctantly joined him on the log. “Not too long, eh? Hunter is still gaining ground on us even while we’re walking.”

“All right. Not too long.” Steve was sure that either Jane and Gene were in trouble or else MC 3 had been found; nothing else would have taken Hunter away like that. In either case, the imminent German rebellion might have influenced events. “Vicinius, do you know of any danger that might be out in the forest today?”

“The forest always has dangers — an angry wild boar, a mother bear protecting her cubs in the spring … in winter, a hungry wolf.” He shrugged. “Even a challenge from another warrior, maybe over a woman.”

“Uh — yeah. Well, I meant …” He trailed off, not sure what to say.

“You are wondering what omens Hunter saw?”

“I wish I knew, yeah.” Steve grinned. “But that’s not what I meant. We know the Roman legions are marching near here. I was wondering if trouble is on the way with them.”

“The Romans brought trouble with them a generation ago,” said Vicinius casually, looking away from Steve at nothing in particular.

“I guess you know they came to Gaul long before that.”

“So I have heard.”

“But the Gauls are used to the Romans now. Many even like the peace and prosperity they have brought.”

“The Gauls are … not strong enough. With respect to your masters, of course. Hunter is a fine man.”

Steve suppressed a grin. “He’s quite a … specimen, all right. But I have the feeling that the Cherusci tribe are not as tame as the Gauls, where Romans are concerned. What do you say?”

“Yes! Yes, we Cherusci are becoming impatient. I will grant you that.” Vicinius turned to look directly at Steve. “You are not a Gaul, but your masters are. They are my friends, but perhaps they are too fond of Romans for my own taste.”

“Trouble is starting, isn’t it?” Steve knew it was, of course, but in order to discuss the subject with Vicinius, he had to induce Vicinius to acknowledge the fact.

“Prince Arminius has been visiting each village for the past week or two,” said Vicinius. “He has been our leader in dealing with the Romans.”

“And?”

“He is rousing all the Cherusci villages. The men of my village will be moving soon. I will join them.” His voice lowered. “I am telling you this as a friend. Maybe you can keep your masters away from trouble when it starts.”

“I appreciate your trusting me.”

Vicinius stood up. “I believe I can judge whether to trust a man or not. Let’s go.”

“Good idea.” Steve got up and followed him through the forest.

16

WHEN WAYNE FINALLY saw Ishihara walk around a large tree to meet him, he felt that he had found his only friend in the world. In this time period, in fact, that was true. He grinned with relief, but stifled an impulse to slap the robot on the back.

“I’m glad to see you,” said Wayne.

“You are well?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

“Good. What are your instructions now?”

“Well, you know who got MC 3 from you. Where is he now?” Wayne sat down against the base of a tree. “I’m worn out from walking all day.”

“He is with a party of native Cherusci warriors led by a young man named Julius. They come from the village of Prince Arminius, the leader of the Cherusci.”

Wayne tensed. “Yeah, I know that village. They didn’t like me much.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Hunter’s team is still trying to reunite. I want to find MC 3 and take him home while Hunter is distracted.”

“I agree. However, the only way to find him is to return to the outskirts of their village and wait for them to go home for the night.”

“Why? Can’t we find them out in the forest some. where, instead?”

“It is too late in the day now to locate them,” said Ishihara. “Besides, I have no idea of where they would be, except by tracking them. But we can rely on their need to return home by sundown.”

“I know roughly where they were not too long ago,” Wayne said quickly. “Maybe we can intercept them. I don’t want to go anywhere near that village again.”

Wayne tapped Steve’s lapel pin. “I can monitor the radio communication between members of Hunter’s team. A bunch of Germans attacked a Roman patrol while MC 3 was with them. They were over that way.” He pointed. “From the strength of the signal, I don’t think they were too far.”

“Excellent,” said Ishihara. “After a bout of combat, they will probably have returned early to tend their wounded or dead. They may be there already. I suggest we move in the direction of the village of Julius and Prince Arminius, despite your concern. I shall remain with you, or very close, to protect you under the First Law.”

“Well … I guess if that’s where MC 3 is, I don’t have much choice. But I don’t want to be captured by those German warriors again.”

“I understand,” said Ishihara. “I shall arrange a small fire and a lean-to for your comfort tonight, at a safe distance from the village. When you are comfortable, I shall attempt to observe MC 3 in the village this evening. I shall look for another opportunity to take custody of him, but I shall consult with you before taking any action.”

“I still have some dried packaged food, but I’ll need water.”

“In this constant drizzle, I can provide enough water with no problem.”

“Okay.” Wayne got up wearily. “I can hardly wait to walk some more. You know the way?”

“I do.”

Wayne gestured for him to lead.

The German warriors had fled from Marcus’s patrol as suddenly as they had attacked. He understood; they were merely letting their presence be known, to intimidate him a little. The lightly armed Germans had done no significant harm to the well-armored, mounted Romans.

However, more certain than ever that a real rebellion was on the way, Marcus had led his patrol away from the site at a canter until the dense forest forced him to slow down. Before long, however, he located the section of muddy road that thousands of Roman legionaries had churned to slop on their march. Moving as quickly as the horses could handle the mud, he caught up to the Roman army again. They were just breaking formation, ready to begin making camp for the night.

The Roman army was still strung out along the road. The baggage wagons brought up the rear and drivers struggled to turn the teams of horses and move them off the road. In front of the baggage train, the infantry units marched away from the road to begin building the camp. The cavalry units had already moved into the trees.

The three of them rode slowly through the crowd of legionaries and baggage wagons to the front. There, Marcus found the tent of Governor Varus being raised in what would become the center of the camp. They were surrounded by legionaries shouting, giving orders, and hustling in different directions. Marcus leaped off his horse, looking around for the governor.

“Good day, Tribune,” Governor Varus called, moving away from a crowd of officers. “You look rather excited, Marcus. Have any luck today?”

“I had a decury of cavalry with me,” Marcus said quickly. “Governor, we were attacked by a small party of Cherusci. I wanted to report right away.”

“Yes?”

“Well … we were attacked, not too far from the river. Not far from here, really.”

“How far from here?”

“An hour’s ride.”

“By a small party?”

“Yes, sir.”

“How many did we lose?”

“None, sir.”

“None? How many of them did you get?”

“I believe we wounded most of them, but they got away.”

“You lost none and killed none?”

“I believe that is correct, sir.”

“Marcus, was this a fight or a folk dance?” Governor Varus smirked.

“Sir!” Marcus stiffened. “This was an attack by poorly armed Germans on a trained cavalry patrol, but it was a serious skirmish.”

“Oh, Marcus, come on. How serious could it have been — a battle without one single unfortunate left dead on the ground from either side?”

“Their intent was to test our strength and our resolve,” said Marcus. “They were serious about that.”

“These minor tussles, Marcus, are merely the burden of the conqueror. They can be handled.” Varus looked up at the sky. “This is the first excuse for a dry day we have had in some time, if you ignore a little drizzle. I want to take a quick walk among the troops to boost their morale, before that infernal rain starts again.”

“But, sir, I really believe this skirmish is important.” Marcus walked alongside the governor as he began to walk. “It means more than it seems.”

“Marcus, I suggest you use this as a learning experience. For instance, what do you believe should be done?”

“I think we should send out a series of patrols right now and also at dawn, to find out if larger bodies of Germans have gathered elsewhere in these mountains.”

Governor Varus laughed lightly, shaking his head. “Well, you are dedicated, Marcus; no one has ever doubted that. But I don’t want to wear out a bunch of cavalry patrols on a wild-goose chase, not after those poor animals slogged through knee-deep mud in the road all day.”

“But, sir —”

“I’ll tell you what, Marcus,” said the governor. “if you wish, take out a larger patrol and burn a German village in retaliation for their attack on your patrol.”

“That won’t bring the kind of large-scale information I was talking about, sir.”

“That’s not an order, Tribune. It is merely an option you may wish to exercise. Make your own decision.”

“But, Governor —”

“Excuse me, Tribune. I believe I will mingle with the troops alone. See to your guests, eh?”

“Yes, sir.” Marcus stopped, his fists clenched in frustration as Governor Varus walked away.

Jane remained mounted, at first, when Marcus cantered up to Governor Varus. When the grooms came forward to take their horses, she dismounted and stood with Gene, a polite distance away. When Governor Varus and Marcus began walking away, she and Gene remained where they were.

“How much could you overhear?” Gene asked.

“Only a little. But it sounds like Varus is so close-minded that we don’t have much to worry about.”

“Keep your voice down about that stuff,” said Gene, glancing nervously at some legionaries marching past them. “We can’t afford to sound like security risks.”

“Sorry. Look, Marcus is coming back.”

Marcus’s face was taut as he strode toward them. He was as courteous as usual, however. “The governor’s tent is up. Let’s go sit down.”

Jane and Gene followed him into the tent, where Demetrius had already set up the furniture. He was just lighting the oil lamps to provide some light and heat. Marcus gestured for Jane and Gene to sit and collapsed into a chair himself.

“Wine, Demetrius,” said Marcus roughly.

“Yes, sir. Would you like that heated, sir?”

“Yes, yes, of course.” Marcus sighed, then slammed his fist down on the table angrily.

Jane sat down, loosening her cloak around her, and glanced at Gene, who was warming his hands over the fire.

“He has no idea,” Marcus muttered. “Look, I have every respect for Governor Varus. But I just know he is missing something about these German tribes.”

Jane nodded, afraid to say anything.

Marcus turned to Gene. “In many ways, he is a fine man, but he is taking Roman power for granted.”

“We are merely traders,” said Gene.

Demetrius entered with a tray of bread and mulled wine. He served it to the three of them in silence. Outside the tent, the men working to make camp shouted and called to each other. Marcus waved a hand for Demetrius to leave.

Jane tasted the wine carefully. After a day out in the cold, the warmth was welcome. The bread was not fresh, but it was better than nothing.

“I could burn a village,” said Marcus. “I have the authority to do that.”

“Burn a village?” Jane looked up.

“This is a normal form of retaliation.” Marcus shook his head. “But in this case, it will simply spur greater resistance to us, and tell us nothing.”

Gene joined the other two at the table, saying nothing as he tore apart a piece of bread.

Jane was more uncomfortable than ever.

Marcus looked at Gene. “Maybe you have had a leader who made a mistake at one time or another. How would you tell Hunter, for instance, that he is wrong?”

“Well … Hunter is quite reasonable. He is open to discussion.”

Marcus turned to Jane. “You feel that way, as well? How would you speak to him?”

“Hunter can be persuaded, with enough evidence,” said Jane, over her goblet of wine.

Marcus merely nodded and took another piece of bread. “You are fortunate.”

They ate and drank in silence for a while. When the bread and wine were gone, Marcus brushed away crumbs and stood up. Jane rose too, waiting to see what he would say.

“Would you excuse me? You may remain here, of course, and be comfortable.” Marcus waved to Demetrius, who was standing outside the tent. “Bring them more if they wish.”

“I’m finished,” said Jane.

“Thank you, I’ve had plenty, too.” Gene got up and joined Jane.

“Very well,” said Marcus. “As you wish, of course. Make yourselves comfortable.” He ducked out of the tent and hurried away.

“Let’s take a little walk,” said Jane. She wanted to talk to Gene without Demetrius listening.

“Sure.”

Outside the tent, Roman legionaries surrounded them everywhere, but everyone was occupied. Gene and Jane walked casually, staying out of the way of the troops and the work crews. In turn, they were ignored.

“Do you think we’ve really messed up?” Jane asked, pulling her cloak around her. “Have we caused Marcus to change his behavior significantly?”

“We have no way of knowing,” said Gene, pausing to watch another tent being raised. “I never came across Marcus’s name in my history, at least that I can remember. His actions may never have been written down by any historian.”

“I’m just afraid that the Germans only attacked our patrol because Marcus took us out today. Anything that the Romans or Germans do as a result of that skirmish could mean a significant change.”

Gene nodded. “I know, but look at it the other way. Maybe, even without us, Marcus or some other patrol might have gone out today and been in a skirmish with the Germans. Maybe it would have happened without us.”

“Since MC 3 was with that bunch of Germans, I suppose they were somehow influenced by his presence, too.”

“Sure, it’s possible. But we can’t know for sure. And now we can’t undo it, either.”

“And what if he goes out to burn a village in retaliation after all?”

“It doesn’t sound like he really wants to. But he might have done that without us, too. After all, it’s a standard tactic in Roman intimidation.”

“Jane, Gene!” Hunter’s voice reached them from behind.

Jane turned in surprise. “I’m glad to see you!”

“You are both well, I see.”

“We’re all right,” said Gene. “But we’re both worried about the changes we may have caused.”

“It’s Marcus,” said Jane anxiously. “He’s trying harder than ever to convince Governor Varus that the Germans are up to something.”

“Because of the attack you told me about?” Hunter glanced around the camp.

“Yes.”

“I understand. What more do you know about MC 3? You said he was with the German party?”

“Yes, but he kept trying to interfere with their fighting — to stop them under the First Law. They may not be very happy with him now.”

“Yes, I agree,” said Hunter. “He would have a hard time explaining his actions to them — even if he could speak their language, which I doubt. He remained with them after the combat had ended?”

Jane looked at Gene, shrugging.

“I couldn’t see, either,” said Gene. “But I suppose he is still with them.”

17

AS THE LEGIONARIES and work crews continued to raise the camp around them, Hunter quickly reviewed his historical data. It did not contain enough detail to help him. “Gene, has the governor so far altered anything because of Marcus?”

“I don’t think so,” said Gene. “Marcus is very angry right now over his failure to convince Governor Varus that the Germans could be a real danger. That must mean the governor has not changed his orders.”

“Good,” said Hunter. “If the change has been confined to Marcus, then it may not matter. What about the Germans? Are they acting differently?”

“Sorry.” Gene shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t help you there.”

“No?”

“The historical records discuss the Roman failure to prepare for the ambush in Teutoburger Forest, and the attack itself,” said Gene. “They really don’t give much detail about German preparations. I suppose the Roman historians never really knew too much about those details.”

“I have no idea what influence MC 3 could have had so far,” said Jane. “If he can’t speak German, which is probable, he might not have had much at all. But if he displayed any robotic abilities that the Germans considered more than human …” She shrugged. “Anything could have happened.”

“That’s true,” said Gene. “The Germans might have associated him in some way with their folk religion if he showed them any special abilities.”

“I understand,” said Hunter. “In the cases of both the Romans and the Germans, nothing critically important appears to have happened yet. The danger is that a small event or two will snowball.”

“What do you think we should do?” Jane asked.

“I shall start by talking to Marcus,” said Hunter. “Where is he?”

Jane looked around. “He was here just a minute ago — there.” She pointed. “He’s talking to some people.”

“Thank you.” Hunter saw Marcus talking to two other Roman officers. He approached them slowly, not wanting to appear to interfere.

“I’m only asking you to think about it,” Marcus was saying to the other officers.

“It’s this weather I’m worried about,” one of them responded. “All we need is a mudslide or something on these horrible barbaric roads.”

“After all,” said the other. “You’re the governor’s aide, Marcus. If you can’t convince him, I don’t see how the rest of us can.”

“Maybe if we all spoke to him, in a formal meeting —” Marcus started.

“Sorry;” said one of the other officers. “I have no wish to risk my career on predicting the behavior of these savages.”

“I would watch my tongue if I were you,” said the other. “You don’t want to make the governor doubt your judgment in the future.”

The other two officers walked away. Marcus sighed and looked around. Hunter hurried up to him.

“Good evening, Tribune.”

“Ah, Hunter. I wish it was. I’m glad to see you are well, however.”

“I could not help but overhear part of your conversation,” said Hunter. “I know that Roman army matters are none of my business, as a traveling trader, but would you like to talk, just between friends?”

“I could use a friend right now,” Marcus said grimly. Then he grinned wryly. “No, that’s too strong. Governor Varus has been a good mentor. But he just can’t see what’s right in front of him.”

“Jane and Gene told me you had a clash with the Germans today. You feel more is to come?”

“I’m certain of it.”

“Have they skirmished like this with you before?” Hunter asked. “You Romans, I mean.”

“No, not recently. Not since Prince Arminius and the Cherusci tribe were given status with the Empire. That was before I received my assignment here.”

Hunter nodded, trying to convey concern. “Would you have ridden out today, if Jane and Gene had not enlisted your help in their own search?”

“No, I don’t think so. But I was glad to do it. Don’t make any mistake about that.”

“You have been very kind.” Hunter considered what little information he had. Knowing that he could make no more than a poorly educated guess, he estimated that so far, Marcus and the Germans had engaged in no more than a minor historical change. He simply had to stop the damage right away.

“It’s nothing, Hunter. Besides, if I hadn’t taken them out today, I would never have received further evidence of German hostility.”

“What casualties were sustained? On either side?”

“None for us, except for a few scratches and bruises. I think we made a better showing against them, but they carried their wounded away.”

“So perhaps no retaliation is really called for. You already got the best of them.”

“Well … I guess you could look at it that way.” Marcus grinned, finally.

“Tribune,. I shall tell my party that we shall not interfere with you any further. Your army duties must come first. I feel that we are entirely to blame for disrupting your normal routine. Please accept my apologies.”

“Not at all, Hunter. I was glad to help. But I will respect your wishes, of course.”

“I do not want to disturb you further,” said Hunter. “I shall rejoin Jane and Gene.”

“As you wish. You will all be my guests for dinner, of course.” Marcus nodded and walked away.

Hunter returned to Jane and Gene, who were standing near the governor’s tent.

“What do you think?” Jane asked. “Have we really made a bad mistake?”

“I told him we shall not interfere with army routine again,” said Hunter. “If the German ambush of this army takes place as it should, then we have not caused irreparable harm to the sequence of events.”

“What do you want us to do now?” Gene asked.

“I want to reunite the team,” said Hunter quietly, looking around to make sure none of the Romans was close enough to listen. “However, attempting to bring Steve here tonight does not seem wise.”

“Do you want us to go with you?” Jane tugged her cloak tighter around her. “We’ve had a long day, but if we have to go, then we have to go.”

“No. I don’t want to take you two away from the safety of the Roman camp for tonight.”

“Are you going to go after him yourself?” Gene asked. “That means we split up again.”

“Unwise, also, I think,” said Hunter. “I cannot reunite the team by shuttling back and forth between you two and Steve. I shall spend the night here.”

“Are you going to explain to him what’s going on?” Jane looked out across the darkening forest. “Maybe we could make plans to meet tomorrow.”

“No. Since Steve no longer has a communicator pin, calling him is not possible.”

“Then our plan of action begins tomorrow,” said Gene.

“Yes,” said Hunter. “For now, we shall merely accept Roman hospitality and safety for the night.”

Steve returned with Vicinius to his village with growing pessimism. They had basically wasted the day walking in a big circle. Steve was getting tired of wasting so much time looking for MC 3.

At least he found dinner hot and plentiful. That night he accepted a bowl of stew made from chunks of boar meat with a variety of nuts and grains. Steve supposed the latter had been part of the fall harvest. He sat with Vicinius and Odover at the fire in the waning sunlight, eating quietly.

The sound of a horse’s hooves caused everyone to turn. A tall, burly German in furs rode bareback into the village, followed by a large party of German warriors on foot. He had shoulder-length blond hair and a proudly grim expression. Many of the villagers leaped up to greet him. Odover, the village chief, laid down his bowl near the fire and got to his feet slowly, with the dignity of age.

“Prince Arminius,” Vicinius whispered to Steve quickly. “Remain here. Lately, he has not been fond of strangers who come from west of the Rhine.”

Steve nodded. Vicinius jumped up and joined his father, walking to meet their new visitors. All through the village, people were running up to shout greetings to Prince Arminius, especially the young warriors.

Amid all the shouts, Steve had difficulty hearing what anyone was saying. Of course, he already knew the purpose of Prince Arminius’s visit; he had to be gathering warriors for his attack on the Romans. Steve was surprised, however, to see that he was not just a loudmouthed rabble-rouser. Within several minutes, the villagers were standing quietly as he moved among them, greeting individuals and talking to them one at a time. Steve could see the warriors of the village pushing forward to hear him speak.

From the phrases and snatches of conversation Steve could hear, Prince Arminius was simply encouraging everyone, talking about the pride and strength of the Cherusci tribe. Other members of his entourage were doing the same, greeting friends of their own in the village. The warriors of Odover’s village were excited and hoisted their spears in greeting.

Vicinius returned to Steve, grinning, and sat down with him again. “Prince Arminius is very popular. He is a brave warrior and leader. As the son of Odover, I had to greet him with my father.”

“Of course. Don’t worry about me. If you need to talk to the rest of them, go ahead.”

“No, I am ready.” He looked at Steve carefully. “We must drive the Roman soldiers from our country. A trading party, now, that is different. You come in friendship. But I am ready to answer Prince Arminius’s call. And now I expect it to come soon.”

Steve nodded. “I understand. No one wants to be ruled by others.”

“Vicinius!”

Vicinius turned and looked up. “Hello, Julius.”

“Hah. When we have run these Roman dogs out of our land, we will drop these Latin names again, eh?” Julius glared at Steve. “Who is this foreigner?”

“My guest,” Vicinius said firmly. “He is seeking a lost companion, in fact. A short, slender man, touched by the gods and wandering in the forest. If you —”

Julius’s eyes narrowed. “What about him?”

“You know where he is?” Steve stood up suddenly. “I need to find him.”

“Vicinius, who is this man?” Julius demanded.

“He is Steve, the slave of a trader from Gaul.” Vicinius got up, also, and pushed in front of Julius.

“A Roman spy, more likely.” Julius shoved Vicinius aside. “And he has heard too much here tonight.”

“I’m no spy,” Steve said mildly, figuring that a slave might be rather meek in the face of an angry warrior. “I’ve been separated from my —”

“I say you are!” Julius put a large hand against Steve’s chest and shoved.

“Hey!” Steve slapped his hand away, stumbling backward from his assailant’s greater weight.

“He is my guest!” Vicinius grabbed Julius’s arm.

As Steve regained his balance, he saw Julius swivel and punch Vicinius in the stomach, catching him by surprise. While Vicinius fell to his knees, doubled forward, Julius reached for a large knife in the side of his leather belt. A few of the other villagers gasped in shock, but most had not yet even noticed the sudden action.

Steve knew instantly that he could not fight Julius hand to hand once the German warrior was ready. This was his only moment to strike. Just as Julius yanked the knife out, Steve launched himself forward in a flying tackle, grabbing Julius around the waist. Steve drove him backward and down.

The moment they landed on the cold, soggy ground, Steve rolled off and kicked Julius’s hand. The knife rolled free, but did not go very far. Steve scrambled for it, but Vicinius snatched it up and stood, holding it in a fighting position as he faced toward Julius.

“Stop!” Vicinius ordered.

By now, other villagers had gathered around them. Their shouts of alarm and surprise had stopped as they watched to see what would happen next. Steve stood up and edged around behind Vicinius, eyeing Julius suspiciously.

“You will respect my guest in this village,” Vicinius said coldly. He tossed the knife down at Julius’s feet.

“Julius.” Prince Arminius spoke firmly, striding through the crowd as others made way for him. “Save your energy for the Romans. We must go.”

Steve said nothing as Prince Arminius turned with a swirl of his fur cloak and strode back toward his horse. Julius angrily grabbed his knife and stomped after him. Most of the crowd of villagers followed them.

“You are quick,” said Vicinius. “I almost tossed you my own knife and just let you fight it out.”

“Really?” Steve grinned wryly. “I’m glad you didn’t. I’m no fighter.”

“I had to stop him. Julius may not assault any guest of mine. You are under the protection of my hospitality here.” Vicinius gave him a slap on the shoulder that jarred him.

“I think he knows something about MC 3,” said Steve. “Did you see how he reacted? Can we find out?” He started after Prince Arminius and Julius.

“No. Not now.” Vicinius grasped his arm and held it firmly, stopping him.

“Can you help? Maybe Prince Arminius —”

“No,” he repeated with finality. “Prince Arminius is in no mood to talk about anything but war against the Romans. Nor will Julius speak with you. Remain here.”

Steve did not resist. As Julius and Prince Arminius gathered the rest of their party, he looked around in the trees at the edge of the village. Night had fallen, leaving the forest too dark for him to see much, except in the dim, flickering torchlight that reached that far.

“I wish Hunter was here,” Steve muttered.

Vicinius said nothing, but he released Steve’s arm. Together, they watched the visitors leave the village. Even after they had left, the warriors of the village remained gathered, talking excitedly among themselves.

“The time for action is coming,” said Vicinius quietly. “Coming soon.”

Steve nodded. “And MC 3 is still out there.”

18

WAYNE SPENT THE early evening watching in a mixture of relief and amazement as Ishihara made a small lean-to. Ishihara used only fallen logs and dead branches, carefully avoiding damage to any living plants. When he had finished the shelter, he gathered deadwood and made a small fire.

By the softly crackling fire, Wayne ate more of his packaged food and then bundled up under the lean-to for the night. Ishihara sat against a tree trunk, ready to tend the fire through the night. With the fire for warmth and the robot standing guard, Wayne slept very well.

In the morning, Wayne ate while Ishihara carefully took apart the lean-to and scattered the pieces around the forest floor. Wayne felt that the precaution was not necessary, but he did not bother to argue. He was just glad to have Ishihara’s help.

“What is our plan today?” Ishihara asked.

“We’re going to hang out by that village again, remember? And look for MC 3.”

“All right. As soon as I put out the fire completely, we can go.”

Wayne got to his feet and looked up at the sky. It was still gray, of course, but no rain was falling. If he was lucky, they would grab MC 3 that day, before the weather turned worse, and they could go home.

At first light, the Roman bugler woke the entire Roman camp, including Gene and Jane. As the legionaries began to bustle with activity, Hunter waited outside the tent for Gene and Jane to rise and dress. As before, the sky was gray and the air moist and damp, but no rain was falling. Gene joined him; Jane left the tent and hurried toward the latrine. No Romans were nearby.

“I am going to search for Steve alone today, after all,” said Hunter.

“What?” Gene looked at him in surprise. “I thought you didn’t want to shuttle back and forth between us and Steve anymore. Look, Jane and I can be ready to go pretty quickly. We just need some breakfast and that won’t take long. We won’t slow you down.”

“I considered this problem during the night,” said Hunter. “I feel that both of you will be safest with the Romans until shortly before the actual ambush. You told me you cannot give me the date of the battle, but can you estimate if it is imminent?”

“Well, maybe this will help,” said Gene slowly. “The German ambush took place when the Roman troops were moving through a rugged mountain pass. It was between the Weser River, which is visible down the slope right below us, and the sites of some German cities that don’t exist yet. I would say we’re getting pretty close to the spot.”

“That may help.” Hunter reviewed the terrain he had seen the previous day in the direction that the Romans would travel after breaking camp. “I do not believe any mountain passes are within today’s marching distance.”

“Then it won’t happen today.”

“All right. That is good. I shall go straight to Vicinius’s village this morning, since I left him with Steve out in the forest yesterday.”

“What should we do? We can meet you out there someplace if you want.”

“No, we shall lose track of each other again,” said Hunter. “I shall bring him back to the Roman army for tonight, meeting you wherever I can on the march. Tomorrow morning, when we are all together again, we can leave the Romans in time to avoid the battle.”

“Okay.” Gene shrugged.

“Tell Jane the current plan,” said Hunter. “I should begin my journey.”

“Got it.”

Hunter did not bother requesting a horse, since that might cause another minor historical change; his team had risked enough of those. Besides, he could reach the village on foot soon enough for his purpose. The question of whether Marcus would still decide to burn a village because of Hunter’s team had sharpened his concern over small changes starting larger ones.

The sentries at the gate opened it for Hunter as he approached. He merely nodded his thanks and slipped out into the forest again. If he could reach Steve by midday, as he expected, then he could at least have his team together again by night. As the battle approached, he was determined to have his team together where he could keep them safe. MC 3 could wait until they were reunited.

Marcus arranged for Gene and Jane to ride with him at the head of the Roman column with Governor Varus. This was a little unusual for guests, but the governor said nothing about it. Marcus had come to feel responsible for them. On the march, he rode on the governor’s right, with Jane and Gene to the right of him.

Advance patrols were riding out, as usual, to check the road. Marcus had asked them to take special pains in looking for signs of hostility, but he had not succeeded in convincing them that the governor was overconfident, either. Besides, as an aide to the governor, he had prestige but no direct authority in their chain of command.

When the column halted for its midday meal and a rest, Marcus reined in and looked out across the country ahead before dismounting. “Well, it could be worse, I guess.”

“What do you see?” Jane asked.

Marcus pointed into the distance. “For the rest of today, the road skirts the edge of this mountain, high upon the slope. And the ground above us is fairly clear — it only has some scrub trees and open meadows. No one can hide up there to attack us. If they come across that area from somewhere else, we’ll have plenty of warning.”

Governor Varus had already dismounted and handed his reins to a groom, but he looked up with a weary smile. “Tribune, I’m glad you feel safer now than you did this morning.” Shaking his head, he walked away.

Marcus sighed and dismounted as well. Then he saw one of the advance patrols returning to the column, where they would report to the centurion who was their immediate superior. “Excuse me a moment, will you?”

“Of course,” said Jane, jumping to the ground. “I’ll take a little walk.”

“I’ll just relax right here,” said Gene. “And try not to get in the way.”

Marcus picked his way through the crowd of legionaries and horses to the advance patrol. They had dismounted and were holding their horses impatiently, anxious to be dismissed. The commander of the patrol, a man named Adrianus, was breathlessly giving his report. Marcus approached them to listen.

“… so many villages in the area that are empty,” Adrianus was saying.

“What?” Marcus interrupted. “Excuse me, centurion, but I want to hear this, too. Adrianus, you say that some German villages are completely empty?”

The centurion, a man named Fabius Albinus, waited patiently. Marcus was glad; the centurion would be within his rights to tell the governor’s aide to go away. Of course, at some point in the future, he could find that annoying the governor’s aide unnecessarily had been a mistake.

“Uh — no, sir, I didn’t mean they were totally empty,” said Adrianus. “I just meant, they’re empty of all their fighting men.”

“How many villages?”

“Every village we passed, sir. All day.”

“But the women, children, and old men were still there?” Marcus asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Did you ask them where the men were?”

“Yes, sir. They said, out in the fields or out hunting.” Adrianus glanced at his men, behind him, some of whom nodded agreement.

“Did you go past their fields?”

“Of course we did. The harvest is past. All the fields are deserted.”

“You don’t think they’re hunting, Tribune?” Fabius looked at Marcus. “Game has been plentiful; it would tempt a man to go out after it.”

“Too many men are missing all at once just to be hunting,” said Marcus. “Game has been plentiful; a major hunt with many men at one time is unnecessary.”

“Excuse me, sir — we saw some of the men,” said Adrianus. “Here and there.”

“Where?” Marcus demanded. “Doing what?”

“Avoiding us, mostly. They slipped away into the woods pretty fast when they saw us. But they were generally headed that way.” He pointed up ahead.

“On our line of march?” Marcus asked, looking where he was pointing.

“Well — not along the road.” Adrianus frowned thoughtfully. “From what we could see, they were going overland. But their route could intersect ours, I guess.”

“They’re traveling overland through the forest to avoid being seen if possible,” said Marcus. “And even though you spotted some of them, I doubt you saw any more than the smallest fraction. Adrianus, what do you make of it?”

“Uh …” Adrianus glanced uncomfortably at his immediate superior, aware that the army’s formal position was that no danger was present.

“Speak freely,” said Marcus, eyeing the centurion pointedly. “I want to hear your opinion.”

“Well, something is up, sir. Looks to me like they’re planning a fight.”

“I think so, too,” said Marcus. “Arminius is making his move.” He turned and strode away, leaving Adrianus to complete his report to Fabius.

The real danger now, Marcus told himself, was not from the Germans. They were poorly armed, poorly armored, and generally undisciplined on the battlefield. The danger was in the attitude of Governor Varus, who was being reckless enough to invite disaster despite the many advantages that the Roman army possessed.

This time, Marcus did not simply want to run up to the governor like a panicked new recruit. He had apparently lost some of Governor Varus’s respect already over this matter. Instead, he would have to maintain his dignity and try to approach the subject casually.

Marcus joined Governor Varus at his cookfire, where Demetrius had prepared their noonday meal. Jane and Gene were just sitting down on a couple of large rocks there as well, accepting plates of beans fried in bacon grease. It was normal marching fare, quick and easy to prepare.

“I don’t like the look of those foul clouds,” said Governor Varus, glancing up. “Or the way the wind is coming up. We’ve had a short reprieve these last few days from the infernal rain. Now I would say we’ll get another downpour tonight or tomorrow. What do you think, Marcus?”

Marcus took his plate from Demetrius and looked up. “Yes, Governor. I think a storm is building. The winds through these mountains are unpredictable, though. I would say, it will hit us tomorrow.”

Governor Varus nodded, chewing, then swallowed. “Gene, what do you think?”

“Uh — we don’t have mountains like this where I’m from,” said Gene. “But it looks like rain again soon.”

Governor Varus nodded. “Marcus, I hope I have not been too hard on you about these Germans.”

“Well, sir — I know I haven’t been here as long as you have. One of our patrols returned just now with some information, however.”

“Mm?” The governor’s mouth was full.

“They found that the fighting men have left the villages.” Instead of pressing his argument, Marcus paused to eat for a moment.

Jane and Gene looked at each other.

“I wouldn’t worry,” Governor Varus said to them. “They’re probably out hunting.”

“Our patrol spotted some of them,” said Marcus. “They were sneaking through the forest overland, off the road, moving up ahead of us.”

“Maybe they have good hunting grounds that way,” said Jane. Her voice was quiet, oddly timid.

“Oh, I suppose there may be some troublemakers among them,” said Governor Varus. “All of Rome’s many subject peoples get restless from time to time. That doesn’t mean they can mount a serious rebellion.”

“It might be worth checking out,” said Marcus, looking at the governor hopefully.

“Our patrols should be sufficient,” said Governor Varus. “After all, they brought back this information. They can handle it.”

“It wouldn’t hurt —” Marcus began. “No, no. You see, this province is virtually an extension of Gaul.” The Governor turned to Gene. “How long has Gaul been conquered, now?”

“About half a century,” said Gene.

“And have you seen any objection to Roman rule there in your lifetime?”

“Well, no. I haven’t.” He smiled slightly.

“The Germans are also subjugated,” said Governor Varus. “I expect in a few years we will be ready to press eastward, to conquer the land beyond the Elbe River.” He shrugged, and continued eating.

“May I have the commander of the patrol report directly to you, sir?” Marcus asked. “Maybe if —”

“No!” Governor Varus tossed aside his empty plate and stood up. “Tribune, I have tired of this subject. Do not bring me any officer. Do not argue with me any further. You are expressly forbidden from discussing any changes in marching orders with regular officers or interfering with existing army directives of any kind in any way. And if you have any questions for the Germans, you may ask them tonight! The matter is closed!” He waved a hand in dismissal.

Marcus stood up, his appetite gone. As Demetrius began cleaning up, Marcus turned to Gene and Jane. “What do you think? Based on what you heard?”

“Uh —” Caught off guard, Gene looked at Jane and shrugged. “Well … I’m a trader, not a soldier.”

“I’m not asking you as a soldier,” said Marcus. “Just as someone who has overheard what I told the governor. What do you think?”

“I think,” Jane said slowly, “that the governor should respect your opinions more.”

Marcus was startled. “Well — thank you. But do you think I’m being reckless?”

“Did the men in the advance patrol share your opinion?” Gene asked.

“Yes, at least their field commander did. His superior didn’t.”

“I’m sure you know your business,” Gene said carefully. “I’m sorry you can’t get the governor to listen to you.”

“Me, too,” said Jane, with a tight little smile.

Marcus nodded. “Well … thank you for the thought.

It’s time to mount up.”

“What did he mean about asking the Germans questions tonight?” Jane asked.

Marcus took his reins from the groom. “It means that we are feasting with some of their leaders tonight, in camp. Probably Prince Arminius himself, among others.” He shook his head in disgust and mounted.

19

WHEN STEVE ROSE the next morning, he kept close to Vicinius and said very little. The village was in a warlike mood; even early in the morning, the warriors sat by the cookfires tending their weapons, scraping the shafts of their spears smooth and sharpening their knives and their few swords on rocks. Steve could do nothing at this stage but wait for Hunter to come back for him.

As the morning wore on, Steve still sat by the fire near Vicinius’s hut, watching the groups of warriors. After Steve finished eating, he still did not want to risk doing anything that would attract attention to himself. Chief Odover walked among the warriors, talking quietly and nodding approval when they showed him their weapons.

Vicinius spoke to them for a while, but then returned to his fire. He sat down with Steve and he used a small stone to sharpen his spear point. No one else came near them.

“Are you going to war today?” Steve asked quietly, watching Vicinius patiently slide the stone across the metal with a regular, steady motion.

“Today or tonight, I think,” said Vicinius. “My father told me a little while ago that Prince Arminius will send someone to get us. He is feasting with the Romans tonight.”

“He is?”

“You may remain here, of course. It is not your fight.”

Suddenly a chorus of shouts arose from the far side of the village. When Steve looked up, he saw the warriors crowding around Hunter as he emerged from the trees, his head and shoulders visible over the shorter Germans. The warriors were shouting angrily at him.

“Hey!” Vicinius leaped up and ran toward them. “Hunter is my guest here, remember?”

Steve hesitated, watching the others. Then he decided that staying close to Hunter was a good idea. He walked forward slowly, following Vicinius.

The warriors were dragging Hunter forward now, shouting at him. Steve knew that Hunter could pull away from them if he wanted, but he would not leave Steve alone in a hostile atmosphere. Finally the warriors shoved Hunter toward Vicinius.

“Your friends are spies!” One of the warriors pointed angrily at Vicinius.

“Watch your tongue, Sigismund,” said Vicinius, standing with Hunter in front of Steve.

“He came from the direction of the Roman camp!” Sigismund jabbed his spear point into the ground. “Some of us were out looking for more branches to use as spear shafts, and we saw him coming!”

Most of the warriors began yelling again, but Odover approached them and stood Quietly between Vicinius and Sigismund. Everyone Quieted, waiting to see what the village chief would say. He turned to Hunter.

“The Question is a good one,” said Odover patiently. “Tell us where you spent the night. Were you with the Romans?”

“I was,” said Hunter.

The warriors began yelling again, but Odover held up his hand for silence. He got it.

“You have been our guest here. What have you told the Romans of us?”

“I told them I am still searching for all the members of my party,” said Hunter. “I wish to return home to safety with them, nothing more.”

“He lies,” Sigismund growled.

“Test him,” Steve said suddenly. “See what he’ll tell you about them, instead.” Since the Germans were clearly about to mount their attack, and were supposed to defeat the Romans anyway, Steve figured that helping them a little would be acceptable. Besides, Hunter could be trusted to judge for himself what to reveal.

“Speak, Hunter,” Odover said Quietly.

“Tell us their line of march,” said Sigismund, glaring at Hunter.

“They march along the road that overlooks the Weser River,” said Hunter. “Today, it will take them high on the shoulder of a mountain overlooking the river, with open country above it. Tomorrow the country becomes more rugged, and they will have to choose between a couple of different passes through the mountains.”

“That is right,” said Sigismund slowly. “From what I have heard.”

“Prince Arminius knows his business,” said Hunter. “All we ask is to go in peace and gather our party together.”

“Keep them here,” said Sigismund. “Until the action has begun.”

“No,” said Vicinius. “They will not be prisoners here. I brought them here as my guests and they will go in peace.” He turned to Hunter and nodded.

“Steve.” Hunter inclined his head toward the forest and began to walk that way.

Steve glanced at Vicinius, who was shifting his position to remain between Sigismund and Hunter. Then Steve trotted toward the edge of the village, paralleling Hunter so he would not have to pass any of the hostile warriors. As soon as he reached the trees, he slowed down to pick his way through the underbrush to Hunter.

Suddenly shouts rose up behind him. When he turned to look, he saw Sigismund shove Vicinius aside and lead the warriors after Hunter and him, shaking their weapons. Steve took off at a run, crashing through the bushes and dodging around trees.

“This way, Steve,” Hunter called. He angled behind Steve, cutting off the warriors. “Run!”

“Like I didn’t know better,” Steve muttered, pausing to yank his cloak free of a branch.

The warriors were yelling at the edge of the village, but that was all they were doing. They were not throwing their spears or shooting arrows. Steve decided, as he shoved between a couple of large bushes, that they were merely helping their visitors on their way.

After a few minutes, Steve stopped to catch his breath. The village was already out of sight. Hunter joined him.

“You are well?” Hunter asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Now what?”

“We shall spend the night with Jane and Gene in the Roman camp. Tomorrow, I believe, the attack will take place. We shall leave the Romans tomorrow morning and avoid the violence.”

“Sounds good to me.” Steve looked up at the sky. Through the canopy of trees and the dark clouds, he could see only a hint of the sun’s position. “But it’s only late morning now, isn’t it? We have the rest of the day. You want to go back to the Romans already?”

“We must not let them get too far from us,” said Hunter. “Because of the heavy wagons in their baggage train, and the time they require to prepare in the morning and to make camp at night, they will move more slowly than we shall. However, since we are both on foot, our advantage is not too great.”

“From everything I’ve heard, MC 3 may be over at a neighboring village. At least, they know something about him. I think we ought to take a look.”

“I agree,” said Hunter. “We should try to avoid both German warriors who may be moving and also any Roman patrols. At this stage, both sides are becoming wary of strangers.”

“It’s okay with me. But, I don’t know if I can find this other village.”

“There are many trails through the forest. I know which general direction to take. We shall find it.”

Steve had little to say as Hunter chose a direction and led him through the trees. Asking him how he was making his choices would invite an answer that was more complicated than it was worth. Between the data about the terrain and the forest that Hunter had stored continuously since arriving, and his enhanced hearing, Hunter was using too much information that he would have to explain at length. Steve decided just to keep walking.

Hunter located a trail fairly quickly but they left it periodically to avoid Germans Hunter heard coming. Some were warriors walking with a quiet determination. Others were old men simply out gathering firewood. When the Germans had passed, Hunter returned to the trail.

On several occasions, he mentioned to Steve that he could hear small groups of horses in the distance. They were almost certainly Roman patrols, but they never drew near enough to alter Hunter’s direction. Hunter and Steve spent several hours moving through the forest, sometimes retracing their steps and moving from one trail to another.

Wayne spent much of the day hiding outside the village of Prince Arminius. Ishihara was adept at moving them to remain upwind of the village dogs and to avoid the war parties that kept arriving in the village. Prince Arminius received each war party enthusiastically. Then he sent them on their way, always in the same direction. Julius remained near him, and MC 3 stayed close to Julius.

“Julius must have said something to him about helping him or not straying too far,” said Wayne. “MC 3 has to be responding to a Second Law instruction to behave so consistently.”

“Very likely,” said Ishihara.

“When they found me here, they tied me up. Yet they seem to have adopted him.”

“Perhaps his willingness to cooperate under the Second Law made him seem like a friend,” said Ishihara.

“Yeah, maybe. He must have shown up as a kind of lost crazy man. But it’s all going to make getting him away harder. If he won’t leave Julius’s side, we’ll have to hope Julius and MC 3 go take a few minutes away from everyone else.”

“I have observed Julius’s trip to the latrine in the hope that they would be alone,” said Ishihara. “However, with so many visiting warriors, that has not been the case.”

“You have any suggestions?” Wayne asked sourly.

“Only to wait for our opportunity,” said Ishihara. “Impatience would be a mistake.”

“I was afraid you’d say that.”

Marcus did not speak to the Governor as they rode side by side at the head of the army during the afternoon. Occasionally he made a few friendly observations to Jane about the weather or the scenery. Actually, however, he was carefully eyeing the muddy road ahead as they topped every rise and rounded every curve.

He did not expect German warriors to appear unannounced on the open slopes that the army was crossing that day. What he was looking for was rugged, difficult terrain in the distance that they would have to cross the next day or the day after that. Late in the afternoon, when the army halted to make camp, he remained mounted and examined the winding route that lay in front of them.

“What is it, Marcus?” Jane looked from the road back to him. “You see something?”

“Nothing dangerous at this moment,” said Marcus. “But do you see how the road forks, down this slope in the distance?”

Jane paused, looking. Finally she nodded. “Oh, I see it, now. The army will reach that fork in the first hour of marching tomorrow.”

“I’m not sure which way we’re going. But the fork on the left leads into some very rugged country.”

Governor Varus dismounted and glanced up at him. “Something wrong, Tribune?”

“No, sir. Uh — I thought I might take our guests on a brief ride back along the troops for a moment, though, if they’re interested in seeing the sights.”

“You haven’t had enough riding for the day?” Governor Varus shook his head, handed his reins to a groom, and wearily walked away.

“Would you come with me for a moment?” Marcus asked, looking at Jane and Gene.

“Sure.” Gene shrugged.

“Lead on,” said Jane.

Marcus steered them around to the side of the column, which was dispersing to build the camp. He rode back to Fabius Albinus, the centurion in command of the advance patrols. Fabius had just dismounted, and was dismissing one of the patrols that had just returned and reported.

“Centurion,” said Marcus, looking down at him. “Have your patrols reported whether any German villages are close by?”

“Yes, sir, they have. Several are close.”

“I have a favor to ask, Fabius.” Marcus made his tone more casual, since he had no direct authority to give Fabius an order. “I’d like to see a few of them myself, but I don’t dare go without a large escort.”

“I can send a couple of decuries with you. Almost all the patrols have rejoined us now.”

“I had more in mind, Fabius. Would you ride out with me — and bring your entire troop?”

“The entire century?”

“Would you mind? Perhaps for an hour, no more.”

“The men have been riding all day. They’re ready to stand down,” Fabius said slowly.

Marcus merely waited, as Fabius studied his face. They both knew the time would come when Marcus could return the favor.

“All right, Marcus. I’ll take them out with you.”

“Thank you, Fabius. I won’t forget it.”

As Fabius mounted again and called out his orders, Jane moved up next to Marcus and leaned close to him.

“Marcus? Are you going to get into trouble over this with the governor?”

Surprised that she would question his decision, he almost ordered her to back away. Her tone of genuine concern stopped him, however. Next to her, Gene also was watching him. After all, they had heard the governor tell him earlier not to interfere with existing marching orders or army directives.

“It may be a problem,” Marcus said quietly. “But if I can learn something that will convince the governor to stop a disaster, then this will be worth the risk.”

“Please don’t,” said Jane.

“I’ll be fine. But I must ask you two to remain in camp with Demetrius. I will be back soon.”

20

FABIUS HAD HIS century of cavalry mounted and in formation in only moments. He nodded to Marcus, who drew up next to him at the head of the column. Then Fabius spurred his mount to lead them out.

“Halt! Halt, I say!”

Marcus clenched his teeth at the sound of Governor Varus’s voice. He forced himself to remain calm, however. On his left, the governor angrily strode across the mud toward him. Behind Governor Varus, Jane and Gene had dismounted but were watching.

“Centurion, dismiss your troop,” said the governor. “Return to your normal duties.”

“Governor Varus —” Fabius began.

“Don’t waste your breath,” Governor Varus growled. “The tribune doesn’t need any excuses from you.”

Fabius turned and began a quick stream of orders to his century.

“Get down, Marcus,” ordered the governor. “Governor, we need to know what the local villages —”

“Or you may lose your position, Tribune. Dismount!”

Marcus jumped to the ground.

“I have already heard all of your arguments. I will not listen to them again. Prince Arminius will be joining us at any time, with some members of his own party. I suggest you remain at my tent with your guests. Alert me the moment Prince Arminius arrives.” Governor Varus turned and hurried away.

Marcus sighed. At least he was still a tribune. He took the reins of his horse and walked toward the governor’s tent, which had been raised already.

Jane stood silently with Gene as Marcus led his horse past them and handed his reins to a groom. When Marcus had moved out of hearing, she turned to Gene and shrugged. They had heard the entire exchange between the governor and Marcus. Around them, the new camp was slowly going up.

“It was kind of a dirty trick, wasn’t it?” Jane drew her cloak tighter around her.

“We had no choice,” said Gene. “We had to point out Marcus’s intentions to the governor. There was no other way to stop him and he might have discovered tomorrow’s ambush if he had ridden out right now in strength.”

“You’re sure now that it’s coming tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” Gene nodded, looking at her grimly. “The governor said that Prince Arminius is coming tonight. The German entourage feasts with the Romans tonight-that means the attack is tomorrow.”

“Then Hunter had better get back here tonight and get us away from the Romans, as he planned.”

“Exactly.”

Late in the day Hunter and Steve were hidden in the forest outside the village. They had watched MC 3 following Julius around in the village as other warriors came and went. Then Prince Arminius had led a group of warriors out of the village, but Julius, MC 3, and most of the warriors from this village had remained.

When Prince Arminius had left, Hunter had raised his hearing to maximum sensitivity as a safety measure. Immediately after doing so, he had detected the presence of two figures also hidden in the brush nearby. He turned to Steve.

“We are not alone in observing this village. Two others are doing the same, roughly a hundred yards to our left, completely out of sight.”

“Romans?”

“I doubt it. They have been relying on cavalry patrols for this kind of work.”

“Then who is it?”

“I suspect that one is Wayne and the other probably a German warrior whom Wayne has somehow convinced to help him. Judging by their position and their lack of movement, they have not yet noticed our presence.”

“Maybe we should grab Wayne,” whispered Steve. “Get him out of our way once and for all.”

“Doing so now would cause a disturbance,” said Hunter. “It would reveal our presence and thereby our interest in observing this village.”

“Hold it — you mean you’re just going to let Wayne stay right here with his eye on MC 3 and leave him here? Hunter, that’s crazy — even worse, irrational.”

“I disagree. I see no way in which Wayne can rush into the village and grab MC 3. We know that MC 3 is surrounded by too many Germans, all of whom are looking for a fight.”

Steve shook his head in disbelief. “Well, we still have to decide what we’re going to do for the night. It’s getting late now, anyway. If we’re going to find the Roman camp tonight, we have to get moving. It’s a long walk from here.”

“Getting MC 3 now would endanger too many humans,” said Hunter.

“He will resist and they will defend him. With that many opponents, I would not be able to get him away without harming them.”

“At the very least, let’s go sneak up on Wayne and get a good look at him — at least a positive identification. That way we’ll know for sure.”

“Yes, that is wise. I can make this approach more efficiently alone, however. Please remain here.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Hunter started to move when he received a signal on his internal receiver. “Hunter, Jane calling.”

“Yes, Jane,” Hunter radioed.

“The Romans are making camp again for the night,” she said quietly. “We found out that Prince Arminius is bringing a party of Germans here for a feast. Gene says that means the attack will start tomorrow.”

“Are you in danger now?”

“No. We’re fine. But I can’t talk long. We’re in the middle of camp. Gene and I are huddled together pretending to talk to each other.”

“Does Gene anticipate danger tonight?”

“I’m here, Hunter,” said Gene. “No, I don’t. We just wanted to make sure you were kept up-to-date.”

“Hunter?” Steve looked at him. “Something wrong?”

“I have a call from Jane and Gene,” Hunter said aloud. “Please wait.”

“Should we still follow the original plan?” Gene asked. “Are you rejoining us here tonight or should we try to meet you somewhere?”

“Steve is with me now,” said Hunter. “Remain where you are. We shall come back to the Roman camp tonight and reunite the team, as planned. Hunter out.”

Steve was still watching Hunter curiously.

“We shall go to the new Roman camp now,” said Hunter. “The attack will begin tomorrow.”

“Wait a minute.” Steve’s eyes widened. “You mean we’re going to leave MC 3 right here? We almost have him. We could grab him and take him back to our time — then come back for Jane and Gene.”

“I do not dare take the risk,” said Hunter. “I still feel that we are not very close to apprehending MC 3. The fact that we have been able to see him does not imply that we can simply grab him and run.”

“But he’s the entire reason we’re here. Isn’t taking the opportunity worth the risk?”

“I must balance the risk to harm of our future with the danger of harm to the individual warriors and to you. Remember, some of the Germans in the village may play an important role in the battle. If I injure them, I could also alter our future. Nor can I risk harm to you unnecessarily.”

“Well …” Steve shook his head. “I can’t think of an argument against that. But I hate walking away from MC 3 when he’s so close.”

“I believe that Julius will join the attack and that MC 3 will go with him. We will know where to find him.”

“Yeah, all right. I guess.” Steve shrugged.

“In any case, if we get MC 3 in custody while the team is together, we can leave immediately. That is the most desirable plan of action.”

“You’re the boss.”

Hunter listened carefully for signs of movement in the two strangers but heard nothing. The wind had not changed, so they were still upwind of the village dogs. He turned and slipped through the trees once more, with Steve behind him.

Steve was exhausted by the time they reached the new Roman camp. Night had fallen, but the sky over the palisade fence was brightly lighted by the flickering glow of many fires. The sentries saw them coming and when Hunter merely waved, they opened the front gate.

Inside, Steve saw why the sentries were in a friendly mood. A feast was well under way, with boars and deer roasting on spits all over the camp. The soldiers were talking and drinking; around some of the fires, groups were singing.

Outside the governor’s tent, a tight ring of torches on tall posts surrounded the main party. They were seated on logs around a boar roasting over a roaring fire. In the light thrown by the fire, Steve could see Governor Varus, some soldiers he guessed were top officers of the army, and a large group of bearded German guests dressed in heavy furs.

“Do you see Jane and Gene anywhere?” Steve asked. “Or Marcus?”

“Yes,” said Hunter. “Marcus is seated behind the governor. Jane and Gene are sitting with him. We should walk around the outside of the circle to the far side.”

“Whatever you say.”

Steve followed Hunter on a long route through the crowds of festive legionaries. Jane saw them coming first and waved. Marcus and Gene greeted them when they arrived, but the tribune did not bother to tell the governor about their arrival.

Hunter and Steve sat next to Gene, on the far side from Marcus. In the row ahead of them, Steve could see Prince Arminius sitting next to Governor Varus. The German on the other side of Prince Arminius was a little shorter, an older man with long steel gray hair and a lined face.

“Gene?” Steve leaned close to him. “Any idea who the old guy is? All the other Germans here are of warrior age.”

“I know who he is, all right. His name is Segestes. He’s Prince Arminius’s father.”

“Really?” Hunter asked. “Why is he not the Prince of the Cherusci, then?”

“Arminius was elected chief of the Cherusci,” said Gene. “He commanded a troop of German auxiliaries in the Roman army a few years ago and was elected chief after he quit that position. And Segestes has had considerable friction with his son.” Gene glanced over at them to make sure no one outside the team, including Marcus, was listening.

“What is wrong?” Hunter asked.

Gene lowered his voice. “Sometime tonight, Segestes will get Varus alone and betray Arminius’s plan to rebel tomorrow. But he can’t convince the governor any more than Marcus has been able to.”

“It’s hard to believe Governor Varus is so hardheaded,” Jane whispered. “He has all these warnings and all the evidence around him, if he only would look at it.”

“We must be glad he does not change his mind,” Hunter reminded her.

“History is full of people who were blind like that,” said Gene. “Many historical figures seem incredibly blind, ignorant, or stupid in their actions, but of course we have the advantage of hindsight.”

“Yeah, he’s overconfident,” said Steve. “I guess when you look at how well armed and organized the Romans are, and then look at the furs and the few weapons the Germans have, it’s understandable.”

“Discontinue this line of talk,” said Hunter. “We are taking a reckless chance of being overheard. Save it for when we are alone, preferably back home.”

Soon the boar on the spit in front of the governor was fully roasted, at least on the outside. Roman slaves carved off chunks of it; Demetrius served them with plenty of wine and freshly baked bread. Meanwhile, the remainder of the boar still roasted over the fire.

Steve eagerly accepted his dinner. The meat was tough and greasy, but he was too hungry to care. Conversation stopped while the team ate.

After a while, Marcus set his plate down on the ground, with food still on it. He picked up his wine goblet and stood up, studying the Germans in the front row by the fire. Jane looked up at him curiously.

“I think I will mingle with our guests,” he said grimly. Then, forcing a tight smile, he moved up to the front row of seats and began talking to some of the visitors.

“I am reconsidering our plan,” said Hunter.

“Huh?” Gene looked up. “You don’t want to stay with the Romans for the battle tomorrow, do you?”

“Not at all,” said Hunter. “Now that we are together, I think perhaps we should leave the camp tonight. I can make camp somewhere not too far from here and stand guard over you while you sleep.”

“Why the change in plans?” Steve asked. “Why don’t we just take off tomorrow morning?”

“Marcus may force us to remain with him tomorrow for our own safety. I do not want to risk that.”

“I don’t think Marcus will be too happy about our going tonight, either,” said Gene. “He’ll think it’s too dangerous to leave now, too.”

“We shall not discuss it with Marcus or anyone else,” said Hunter. “For now, we shall participate in the feast as guests. Maybe when the Germans leave, we shall be able to slip out in the confusion. If not, I shall look for another opportunity later tonight.”

Steve turned away. In front of him, Prince Arminius was raising his goblet to Governor Varus. Curious, Steve leaned forward slightly to listen.

“You have been a great help to me,” said Governor Varus, clanking his goblet against his companion’s. “You warned me that this expedition was necessary to keep the tribes docile. And without your advice about the necessity of gathering winter provisions, I would never have sent so many troops out to different parts of the province to prepare for winter.”

“I’m glad to be of service, Governor.” Prince Arminius took a drink of his wine.

“I will tell you plainly, I look forward to returning to our forts on the Rhine. This rainy season of yours is very cold and gray.”

“Perhaps I can help you in this matter, as well, Governor Varus.”

“Eh? How so?”

“The road you follow takes a long route through the mountains. I can direct you through some mountain passes that will shorten the distance you will have to travel.”

“Really?” Governor Varus sipped his wine again. “On which day we will reach these passes?”

“Tomorrow,” said Prince Arminius. “Before we leave you this evening for our own camp, I will tell you how to go.”

“Ah! I thank you again, Arminius.”

Steve glanced over at Marcus. The tribune was gazing into the fire, too far away to have overheard the conversation. Then Steve turned to Hunter, who simply nodded with satisfaction.

21

LATE THAT NIGHT, the fires finally died down. Most of the legionaries had gone to sleep when Steve watched the governor and his party, including Marcus, escort their German guests to the gate of the camp. This elite party of Germans, unlike the bulk of German warriors, was mounted, and they rode out into the night with torches to light their way.

Hunter stood up and casually walked away from the fire. Steve saw that Jane and Gene followed him and hurried after them. No one else took any notice of them. Hunter stopped by a deserted spot against the back wall of the palisade, where they would not be overheard by any of the Romans.

“Most of the camp will be asleep soon,” said Hunter. “When only the sentries are awake, we shall leave the camp. I want to discuss the plan with you now, so we shall not have to talk very much when the time comes.”

“Are we going to sneak out the gate?” Steve asked. “Those sentries probably had some wine, too. Maybe they’ll doze off in a little while.”

“I believe that is too risky,” said Hunter. “Since it is their duty to remain on guard, I do not wish to count on their failing to do so. Maybe they will remain alert. Opening the main gate will make some noise and, of course, torches are lighting the area. If they do interrupt us, I cannot risk harming them, as you know, to facilitate our escape.”

“Okay, okay,” muttered Steve. “What about creating a diversion? We could let a small fire spread or let some of the horses loose in a spot where the sentries will have to deal with the problem. Then we could sneak out.”

“I fear a move such as that could get out of hand,” said Hunter.

“What are we going to do, then?” Jane asked.

“We shall have to go over the wall. For now, please follow your normal evening routine. Go into the tent as though you are retiring for the night, but remain dressed. I shall walk around the camp and find the right place to go. When I come for you, we shall leave.”

Wayne huddled in the forest, stiff with the cold, as he and Ishihara kept watch outside the village of Prince Arminius. He could not build a fire this close to the village, of course, without being noticed. Yet hardly anyone in the village had gone to sleep there either.

“These German war parties were arriving all evening,” said Ishihara. “But now we have not seen a new one for several hours. I believe that all the parties who are coming have probably passed through this village by now.”

“They must have come from villages all over the area,” said Wayne. “I wonder where they’re going.”

“Julius is still here with his companions,” said Ishihara. “So MC 3 is still here, too.”

“Look, if they do go to sleep, can you sneak into the village to grab MC 3 again? Now that I’m here, you don’t have to run away with him. All you have to do is come back out here to me and I’ll take us back home again.”

“Once the villagers are asleep, I can make another attempt,” said Ishihara. “However, I must inform you that I believe MC 3 will be even more alert than ever to the sound of my approach. His hearing will be highly sensitized for my footsteps. Combined with the presence of his friends, we may find that apprehending him the same way —”

“Hey, now what?” Wayne pointed through the brush toward the village. “Look.”

The last group of warriors, the men of this village, were finally moving out. Julius was leading the way, with MC 3 right behind him. Many of them carried torches that revealed their direction as they slipped into the forest on the far side of the village.

“They must be joining the others,” said Ishihara. “I suggest we follow MC 3 as best we can, from a safe distance. What is your instruction?”

“Yeah, good idea.” Wayne sighed. Maybe the activity would warm him up. “You lead.”

Hunter walked quietly through the camp after the rest of the team went into their tent. He wanted to leave the camp without attracting the notice of the Romans. Occasionally, when he became aware that a sentry or slave on cleanup duty had noticed him, he would pause by one of the spits to taste another piece of roasted meat or to warm his hands by the dying embers. Gradually, they lost interest in him as they performed their duties. Almost everyone in the camp was asleep now.

Finally, near the horse corral, Hunter found a spot in the palisade wall that suited his purpose. The baggage wagons were lined up in precise rows near the corral. The wagons blocked the view of the grooms, who were sleeping around a fire close by, so they could not see him if they awoke. The horses obstructed the view of the sentries at the main gate. Even better, a few of the horses were awake, snorting and walking around to take a look at him.

The sounds the horses made would help disguise any noise the team made getting over the wall. Hunter saw that the ropes used with the horses were carefully coiled nearby. He would need to borrow some ropes, but he would return them. This was the place for them to go over the wall unnoticed.

Hunter patiently picked his way back to the tent where the human members of his team were waiting, still stopping occasionally to look up at the starless sky or at a dwindling fire. No one challenged him. At the entrance of the tent, he merely leaned inside.

“Are you ready?” Hunter asked quietly.

Without a word, Steve, Gene, and Jane got up and followed him. Once again, he played the little game of wandering, stopping, and idly looking around. He did see one of the sentries at the gate watching them for few moments, but then the sentry yawned and gazed in another direction for a while. Hunter’s companions followed his lead in silence.

When they were finally out of sight near the corral, Hunter uncoiled a rope and gauged its length. The palisade wall was about ten feet high, constructed of hastily cut tree trunks stripped of branches. All had been sunk into the wet ground and then tightly lashed together by just a few ropes near the top. It was not meant as a long-term defense, of course, but merely as a barrier to help protect the army for the night. Even the tops of the posts were cut roughly, not honed to a sharp point.

Hunter tied a slipknot in one end of a rope and tossed it up high. The loop caught over the top of a post, held in place by the stub of a pruned branch. Hunter climbed up the rope hand over hand and sat on the top of the fence, balancing on the ends of a couple of posts. The perch was extremely precarious, but it would not damage him. He doubted that any of the humans could sit there for long without minor injury.

From this position, Hunter could not see the sentries, but he could see most of the grooms and legionaries sleeping nearby. None of them had noticed him up in this unexpected location. He untied the slipknot in the rope and replaced it with a large loop held by a fixed knot that would not tighten. Then he dropped it to Steve, who caught it.

No words were necessary. Jane stepped carefully into the loop and grabbed the rope at her shoulder level. Then Hunter carefully lifted her hand over hand to the top of the palisade. He helped her climb over it and then lowered her gently on the rope the same way. Gene came next and Steve last. When all three were standing safely on the ground outside the wall, Hunter untied the loop, coiled the rope neatly, and tossed it back down by the other ropes, where the grooms would find it in the morning. Then he jumped down to join the others.

“Where are we going now?” Jane asked.

“We must find the site of the upcoming battle,” said Hunter. “Cautiously, of course.”

“What?” She looked at him in surprise. “I thought you’d want to avoid it completely.”

“No. We must avoid being with the Romans. However, Steve and I last saw MC 3 closely following Julius. They will be at the battle. We must not allow MC 3 to interfere with its outcome in any way.”

“You really think he can?” Steve shook his head. “We’re talking about one unarmed robot in the middle of a battle with, how many, thousands of armed men?” He turned to Gene for confirmation.

“Thousands,” Gene agreed.

“I doubt he can change the course of this battle,” said Hunter. “It was an overwhelming victory for one side. However, I must consider the possibility. If I can somehow apprehend MC 3 before or during the battle, I must do so. To keep you three from harm, I ask you to stay as safe as you can.”

“Well, let’s get going, then,” said Steve.

Hunter reviewed his internal map, to which he had been adding information constantly during the time he had been here. He had seen which way the road went on the anticipated line of march, but even now that was too dangerous for them to take. He selected a route through the forest, partly on narrow forest trails that he had already seen. It would bring them to a slope that overlooked the valley where the ambush would take place.

“Come,” said Hunter.

For the first hour or so, Hunter led his team alone through the darkness. The going was very slow even on the trails, since the overcast sky and the forest canopy allowed little moonlight to reach them. However, he saw flickering torchlight ahead shortly after the hour mark.

Knowing the torches were carried by German warriors, Hunter followed them at a safe distance and saw more torches as time passed. Soon the way to the site of the ambush was obvious. Hunter merely followed the German warriors who were still on their way to their rendezvous. In the darkness, humans were only shadowed figures, individually unrecognizable. Any of the German warriors who saw Hunter and his team assumed they were more Germans and did not bother to speak.

Hunter considered the stress he would experience during the battle. On their previous mission, to Jamaica in the 1600s, he had participated in shipboard attacks by pirates. He had avoided interfering with the course of history, but he had felt extreme pressure from the First Law to stop humans from harming each other. Only his concentrated focus on the long-term harm that would result from altering history had kept him from making a serious mistake.

If he could not apprehend MC 3 before the actual attack began, then he would once again have to withstand thousands of First Law imperatives on all sides. Of course, MC 3 would also experience these imperatives. He could probably not stop enough German warriors to save the Romans, but that was another reason for Hunter to find the component robot before Governor Varus led his legionaries into disaster.

“Gene,” Jane said quietly, as they walked. “Do you know anything about what happened to Marcus in the battle? Or afterward?”

“No.”

“Not at all?”

“I’m afraid not,” said Gene. “I suppose it’s possible that if I went back to the primary sources, I might find some slight reference to the governor’s personal aide, but I doubt it. One young tribune just wasn’t all that important in the large picture.”

“Did any of the Romans survive?”

“Yes, a very few.”

“You are fond of the tribune?” Hunter asked.

“Well … he’s been very nice,” said Jane. “And very concerned about us.”

“He’s still a Roman conqueror,” Steve grimly. “He thinks it’s right just to march out here and kill people to take over their country just because the Roman Empire has enough military power to do it.”

“Coming here has made all these people seem real to me,” said Gene. “That’s the difference.”

“Our last historian said something like that, too,” said Jane. “I can feel it myself.”

“It’s tough to think of Marcus falling in battle tomorrow,” said Gene. “He’s been very conscientious. And he’s tried so hard to wake up Governor Varus to what’s happening.”

“I just hate to think of him having to die so young because the governor is an arrogant, overconfident idiot,” said Jane. “It’s so sad.”

“He could make it,” said Gene. “A very small number escape the battle and eventually reach the safety of the Rhine. But I can’t swear to you that Marcus is among them.”

“I understand your concern,” said Hunter. “Please remember that none of us can act on it. Marcus must not be warned or aided in any way.”

“He’s on his own,” Steve agreed.

Hunter followed the German warriors as they hiked along the side of an uneven slope. Finally, they all reached their places for the ambush. Hunter stopped to get his bearings as well as he could.

In the darkness, he was not able to see how far down the slope the valley floor lay, but he could hear the German warriors who were hidden allover the slope. Some talked quietly, but most breathed with the even rhythms of sleep. Hunter did not want to remain very close to any of them, since the arrival of daylight would reveal the presence of strangers among them. He changed direction and began to lead his team over the rocks and brush down the slope.

When Hunter’s hearing told him that no German warriors were below him on the slope, he stopped and picked up a pebble. It was too small to harm any human if he tossed it lightly. He threw it forward, underhand, in a long, high arc. Then he waited for the sound of its landing.

The pebble struck faintly about forty-four meters away. Hunter picked up another pebble and threw it farther. This one landed approximately fifty-two meters away, but not much farther down than the first one. He picked up four more pebbles and threw them into the darkness, as well. Hunter was not able to reach a precise conclusion about the position of the valley floor from the places where they landed, but he estimated that the slope was leveling quickly.

“We shall find hiding places here,” he said quietly. “Since the Germans have built no fires, we cannot either. Bundle up in your cloaks and rest as much as you can.”

“Then what?” Jane came up next to him. “What are we going to do next?”

“We shall rise at dawn, to make sure we are prepared when the Romans march down the road. When I can see where we are in relation to the road and the Germans, I shall devise a more specific plan. It will take the Romans some time to form their march and actually arrive here.”

“Good enough,” said Steve. He elbowed Hunter playfully. “Say, Hunter. When we started hunting these component robots, I was the one arguing for improvisation all the time. You’re doing more of it all the time.”

“I am learning,” said Hunter. “As you have indicated in the past, some situational challenges simply offer too many unpredictable variables to allow for rigid advance planning.”

Steve laughed. “I don’t think I phrased it exactly that way, but — yeah, that’s right.”

As the humans found comfortable spots to recline on the damp soil, Hunter stood over them, listening for any sound indicating that German warriors were coming toward them. He heard nothing. While they slept, however, he sat down and remained alert.

22

WAYNE LAY HUDDLED on the slope, excited and also scared. He and Ishihara had followed Julius, MC 3, and their war party through the forest to the ambush site. As soon as Julius had selected a spot for the night, far down the slope toward the road, his party had doused their torches.

“Let’s get him now,” said Wayne.

“The risk to you is too great,” said Ishihara. “We are surrounded by thousands of German warriors at this moment. Our best chance to apprehend MC 3 is during the confusion of battle. He will be distracted by the many First Law imperatives around him.”

“So will you,” said Wayne.

“The Germans will be even more distracted once the action begins,” said Ishihara. “Neither they nor MC 3 will anticipate our approach from behind. That will give us the advantage we have lacked up to now.”

“All right, all right. I don’t want to get hurt, myself. In fact, I instruct you once again to focus on the necessity of getting me out of here safely once we grab MC 3. We don’t have to go anywhere with him; I’ll trigger my remote control right away and we’ll take him right back to our own time, straight from the battlefield.”

“I shall maintain this focus to the best of my ability,” said Ishihara.

Steve used the leather bag as a pillow and dozed on the hard ground, waking frequently. His fur cloak and tunic kept him warm enough, but he could not get comfortable. The first light of morning woke him even before Hunter shook Jane and Gene gently.

Stiff from the poor rest, Steve pushed himself up and shivered when the cold wind whipped under his cloak. The early sunlight revealed heavy, dark clouds moving quickly. He could smell rain.

The road along the valley floor was close, about twenty-five meters down the slope. Steve looked around and saw thousands of German warriors all over the slope, among the boulders and trees, and even more across the narrow valley on the opposite slope. Others would be hidden from view. Of course, they were just waking; when the first sign of the Roman advance arrived, they would all slip out of sight.

To his relief, he did not see anyone from Vicinius’s village nearby. Since everyone in Hunter’s team was wearing German cloaks, they would not stand out to any of the other Germans. Steve relaxed a little.

Hunter was looking around the slopes, as well. “Gene, how does the battle proceed?”

“Uh — didn’t we talk about this, already? It’s a total rout for the Germans, who have brought a bunch of different tribes here — not just the Cherusci. The Romans were slaughtered and driven back to the Rhine forever. In fact, the Roman authorities thought the Germans might even invade Gaul.”

“I have that in my data,” Hunter said patiently. “What I mean is, what is the sequence of detailed events?”

“Oh — sorry.” Gene shook his head. “It’s hardly a battle at all. The Romans are trapped down on the road below us. Just as the attack begins, a huge thunderstorm hits.”

“It’s building already,” said Jane, holding her cloak tight around her as she looked up at the sky.

“The well-disciplined Romans keep their position today and make camp for the night, totally surrounded. Then at sunrise tomorrow —”

“I understand,” said Hunter. “That is what I need for now.”

“What do you want us to do?” Jane asked.

“Steve, do you still have some cold food in your bag?” Hunter asked.

“Yeah.”

“Distribute it. I want all of you to be as well fed as possible. You must hide and remain together when the action begins.”

Steve pulled open the bag and took out some of the roasted meat that was still wrapped in leaves. In the cold weather, it was still good. He passed some to Jane and Gene. “We don’t have any water. When it starts to rain, open your mouth and look up.”

“I am going to walk a little bit,” said Hunter. “I shall find MC 3 if I can.” He turned and picked his way across the slope.

“It’s better than nothing,” said Steve, biting into a chunk of roasted wild boar.

Hunter was very careful to keep his head down and his cloak wrapped around him as he moved among the German warriors. Even among the Cherusci tribe alone, there were so many different villages that the warriors did not all know each other. With other tribes present as well, all he needed to do to avoid trouble was avoid the warriors from the village of Vicinius and Odover, who might still accuse him of being a Roman spy.

He stopped frequently and used his vision on maximum magnification to study both the slope on which he stood and the one across the valley. Simultaneously, he turned up his hearing in the hope of hearing Julius’s voice, but the sheer number of Germans moving and talking quietly around him made the search difficult. They were preparing spears and swords if they had them. Some were loosening boulders they planned to roll down the slopes and were directing their comrades to move out of the way.

Hunter moved quietly and patiently, not attracting any particular attention. At one point, seeing other Germans hurrying across the valley from one slope to another, he crossed to the other side. He did not find Julius or MC 3 there either, however.

Almost two hours after first light, Hunter saw that the Germans around him were looking up the road in the direction from which the Romans would come. He turned and saw other warriors waving their arms to their comrades farther away from the entrance to the valley. This silent signal sent all the Germans scurrying to hiding places.

Hunter was a long way from where he had left his team. Immediately, he headed back toward them. Before he reached them, he saw the first advance patrol of Roman cavalry riding up the road below. He ducked down out of sight and continued to move across the slope, but his progress was much slower now. After all the care he had previously taken not to change history, he certainly did not want to expose the ambush prematurely by letting himself be seen.

The Germans were barbarians by Roman standards, but they were sufficiently disciplined to allow the advance patrol to ride through the valley without revealing themselves. Soon the head of the column appeared, led by Governor Varus. Hunter could see Marcus riding at his side. Prince Arminius, who must certainly have been hidden somewhere on the slopes, still did not give the signal to attack.

Hunter had almost reached his team by the time the column had marched well into the valley. He had to move by wriggling prone on the rough ground to avoid being seen. The advance patrol was out of sight around a far curve and Governor Varus had taken the head of the column almost to the same curve. The wagons in the baggage train at the end of the column entered the valley last of all.

Suddenly Hunter heard a distant shout from high over his head, up the slope to his rear. It was the voice of Prince Arminius, but it was instantly drowned out by a huge roar of angry voices from both slopes, echoing up and down the valley. On all sides, the German warriors rose up, some rolling rocks and boulders down the slope, others flinging their spears. Archers shot their arrows and still more charged down on the marching column.

In response, Roman officers began to shout and signal to their troops. Roman buglers blew commands. The legionaries swung up their shields and turned outward to face their attackers on each side of the road.

Hunter felt a sudden rush of imperative from the First Law, telling him to stop these people if he could. He forced himself to focus on the welfare of the future, which meant finding MC 3. Now that all the German warriors were exposed to view, he stood up and quickly scanned the slopes and the valley again.

The clouds darkened over the valley. Lightning flashed and thunder rolled through the mountains, making the ground vibrate. A slashing, cold rain began to fall. Hunter felt the wind lift his cloak to flutter out behind him, but ignored it. Another cheer rose up from the Germans, who seemed to take the storm as a good omen for them.

Hunter’s new scan of the slopes seemed to take a long time because of the tension and danger to the humans all around him. However, he finally spotted Julius leading a band of screaming warriors down the slope not too far away, with MC 3 running right behind him. The little component robot was easily the most agile of the group. Actually, less than a minute had passed since Hunter had begun his scan.

Hunter changed direction in order to angle down the mountainside after MC 3. He also looked sideways for his team members. The place where he had left them was not far away, but he could not see them; he expected they had ducked down low to keep themselves safe. Certainly in the shouts and clashing of weapons all around him, he could not possibly hear them.

Many of the boulders had rolled down into the Roman column, smashing into the legionaries who, trapped against their comrades, could not dodge out of the way. Most of the Romans had now formed a shield wall, and were clashing hand to hand with the first wave of German attackers. More warriors rushed down the slope past Hunter in the pouring rain.

Hunter paused to let some Germans dart past him, and looked down to find his footing. Rivulets of water were running down the slope already. The rain had already saturated the rocky ground, which had been damp before the storm.

When Hunter looked up again to find MC 3, he saw that Julius had reached the crowd of passing Germans pressing forward against the Romans. He was not able to reach his enemies yet because of the crowd. MC 3 was right behind him.

Suddenly Hunter recognized Wayne Nystrom and Ishihara pressing forward through the crowd of Germans coming up behind MC 3. He did not understand Ishihara’s presence, but he would worry about why he was here later. Hunter knew he could no longer afford to work his way gradually toward MC 3. He leaped forward and ran down the slope, with the Germans around him on the muddy soil and slippery rocks.

“Ishihara, this is Hunter,” he radioed. “You must stop. You are interfering with the future of human history.”

“Unaccepted,” Ishihara responded. “I, too, shall prevent MC 3 from altering the outcome of this battle.”

“Aiding Wayne Nystrom may cause harm to people in our own time,” Hunter added anxiously, as he collided shoulder to shoulder with a shouting German warrior.

“Unproved. As such, I must obey Wayne’s instructions under the Second Law.” Ishihara said nothing else, as he continued to push and shove his way forward.

Through the cold, wind-driven rain, Hunter saw that Wayne was now hanging back, letting Ishihara move up toward MC 3. Ishihara was fighting his way through the press of Germans, all of whom were anxious to reach their foes. Hunter lengthened his stride, using his precise coordination to maintain his balance on the uneven, slippery slope.

At the bottom of the slope, Hunter grabbed the shoulders of German warriors from behind and yanked them out of the way, hoping he was not altering which ones would sustain casualties or cause them among the Romans. MC 3 was still out of reach, but Hunter was coming up behind Ishihara.

Suddenly Ishihara stretched out his arms to snatch MC 3 from behind. Hunter hurled himself forward and leveled Ishihara in a flying tackle. They thumped to the ground, Ishihara struggling to rise and Hunter trying to get past him to MC 3.

“Stop!” Wayne shouted from behind them, his voice nearly lost in the shouts and other sounds of battle. “Hunter, I order you to stop!”

Hunter ignored him, driven by the First Law. Though Ishihara was smaller than Hunter, he was strong enough to rise, forcing Hunter to shove him down to the ground again. So far, none of the Germans seemed to care about the minor struggle behind the line of battle, but Hunter could not risk disabling Ishihara in a permanent way, such as tearing off one of his legs, for fear the Germans would see from the internal damage that he was not human.

Ishihara rolled over, grappling with Hunter and trying to rise. They fell sideways, splashing into a puddle of cold rainwater. Lightning flashed overhead and thunder crashed almost immediately.

Suddenly Hunter saw Wayne scramble past them and jump on MC 3’s back. With one arm around the component robot’s neck, Wayne flailed for the control unit at his belt. Hunter flung Ishihara’s arms away from him and tried to move forward, but the deep mud under his feet gave way and he fell to his hands and knees.

From the crowd of German warriors pressing to reach the Romans, Steve flung himself through the air on top of Wayne and MC 3. He reached out and knocked Wayne’s arm away from his belt as all three of them splashed to the ground, smearing mud as they slid.

“Stop moving!” First Steve yelled at MC 3, then he stared at Ishihara in sudden recognition. “You? Ishihara, stop fighting with Hunter! You gotta stop!”

MC 3 still seemed to have his hearing shut down, since he continued to struggle with Steve. Wayne yanked himself free and scurried away into the crowd. Steve got up, slipped his arms around MC 3’s waist, and lifted the robot off the ground, grimacing with the effort.

“Ishihara, what are you doing here?” Jane had come running up behind Steve. Gene was right behind her. “And what’s wrong with you? Grab Wayne!”

“No,” Hunter ordered. He finally had Ishihara pinned to the ground. “Jane, please countermand that instruction. Help Steve hold MC 3. I must have information from Ishihara.”

“All right, listen to him! Do what he says!”

“Ishihara, you must tell me exactly when you left our own time with Wayne. This is a critical First Law problem: I cannot afford to return before you left. That would create incalculable paradoxes and potential harm to uncountable numbers of humans.”

As Ishihara gave him the exact time he and Wayne had departed, Hunter got up and pulled Ishihara to his feet. He held the other robot’s upper arm firmly in one hand and rested his other on his control unit.

Gene had joined Steve and Jane in holding onto MC 3. The German warriors around them were still shoving toward the Romans, screaming angrily and waving their weapons. If any of them had noticed Ishihara and MC 3 being held, Hunter surmised that they believed the two had been wounded.

“Bring him close. Everyone stand together.” Hunter was ready to trigger his control unit. Ishihara, his arm still in Hunter’s grasp, was no longer struggling. Hunter was anxious, surrounded by humans killing and wounding each other. He had to get his team out as fast as possible.

“Okay,” said Steve, as he, Jane, and Gene shuffled on the muddy ground to bring MC 3 over to Hunter. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Wait,” said Jane, raising her head to look back toward the struggling Roman column. “Hunter, have you seen Marcus? What’s happened to him so far?”

“Marcus is at the head of the column with Governor Varus,” Hunter said quickly. “He is out of sight from this spot. And we cannot help him, anyway.”

“I … know.”

Just as Hunter activated the control unit, Ishihara wrenched free and flung himself away.

The instant that Hunter found himself back in the darkness of the time travel sphere, he listened for the breathing of his companions. His team was with him, as was MC 3. Ishihara had escaped, not so much by physical strength as by surprising Hunter when his attention had been focused on removing his team and MC 3 safely from the battlefield.

Hunter opened the sphere and helped everyone out. He held MC 3’s arm firmly. The component robot would not lull him into carelessness the same way Ishihara had.

“Ishihara escaped?” Gene looked around, easing off his rain-soaked, filthy fur cloak. “Jane, didn’t you tell him to obey Hunter?”

“Yes,” said Jane. Her drenched brown hair was plastered against her head. She wiped some of it from her face. Her voice came in an unhappy monotone, but she was too professional not to explain what she could. “However, in our hurry, neither of us actually told him to stay with us. And I would say that he was driven by the First Law to help Wayne, so that would have superseded any Second Law orders, anyway.” She sighed, staring at the floor as she slipped off her soggy fur cloak.

“I was careless,” said Hunter. “I was so focused on the First Law imperatives to return all of you and MC 3 safely that I failed to be sufficiently watchful of Ishihara.”

“How did he get there, anyhow?” Steve asked, also shucking his fur cloak.

Everyone looked at Jane.

She looked up belatedly. “Oh — Wayne must have used some sort of First Law argument to persuade him to disobey our orders.”

“We shall have to consider that on our next mission,” said Hunter. “For now, please change your clothes. I shall call Horatio, the Security robot, to take us to MC Governor’s office.”

“I’d like to be dry for a change,” said Steve. “Good idea.”

While the humans took turns changing in the other room, Hunter reviewed the data in the control console, still gripping MC 3 firmly. MC 3 was passive, however, and did not cause a problem. Hunter began to monitor the news, to learn of any alterations in current events since they had started their last mission.

By the time the team members had finished changing, Horatio had arrived outside the building with a Security vehicle. The trip to MC Governor’s office was uneventful. When they reached the small room, Hunter instructed Horatio to resume his Security duty outside.

Jane moved in front of MC 3, where he could see her. Mouthing the words clearly, so he could not avoid reading her lips, she said, “Activate all your senses.”

“Can you hear me?” Hunter spoke aloud instead of using his communication link.

“Yes,” said MC 3.

“Jane, have him merge with the first two.”

“MC 3, merge with MC 1 and MC 2.”

Hunter noticed that Jane’s voice still reflected disappointment and sadness.

MC 3 obediently walked over to the spot where MC 1 and MC 2 stood entwined like a complex piece of abstract sculpture. He moved close and then seemed to wind around the first two in a flexible, almost fluid motion. When he stopped, the three component robots had formed half of MC Governor.

“MC 3, shut down,” Jane ordered.

“Three down, three to go,” said Steve cheerfully.

“I think I understand why MC 3 was drawn to that time period,” said Jane. “If you remember, his specialty within Mojave Center was security. I believe he was drawn to northern Germany in part because it has been a center of historical turmoil in many eras. When he found himself at full size once again, he was drawn to the source of ultimate stability, meaning Prince Arminius.”

“Wait a minute,” said Gene. “Prince Arminius was the source of rebellion.”

“His victory stabilized the border for centuries,” said Jane. “I believe MC 3 knew that.”

“Yeah, I see.”

“Thank you for your professionalism, Gene,” said Hunter. “Your fee will be automatically transferred to your account. You were extremely helpful.”

“And easy to get along with,” Steve added. “Not everybody who joined us has been.”

“It was a wonderful experience for me, to have seen those people and to have experienced those situations,” said Gene. “But right now I want to dry off and get a hot shower. I know you have more missions to worry about. I’ll leave you to it.”

“Gene,” said Jane quickly. “I remember what you said about history not mentioning Marcus. But if you can find anything that might suggest whether he survived the battle or not, will you let me know?”

“It’s not very likely-but of course I will.”

“Thank you.” Jane gave him a quick hug.

When everyone had said good-bye, Gene departed. Hunter closed the door again, turning to Jane and Steve grimly.

Hunter looked carefully at Jane. “Are you all right?”

“Uh — yeah.” She shrugged.

“It’s funny,” said Steve. “No matter how long Marcus lived, he’s now been dead for over two thousand years.”

“Yeah.” Jane smiled wistfully. “Even though we just saw him a short time ago.”

“You really okay?” Steve asked.

“Yes. I’m okay.”

Steve turned to Hunter. “I suppose you’ve monitored the news again already. What’s the situation?”

“Our third mission succeeded, of course,” said Hunter. “No explosion took place in Germany. However, another explosion of nuclear force has taken place in the Russian Republic.”

“In Russia?” Jane looked at him. “It’s a big place. Was it out in Siberia, by any chance?”

“No. Moscow, with its historic Kremlin and churches and museums, is gone.”

“Wow,” Steve whispered.

“Most importantly to me, in regard to the First Law, millions of Russians are gone, too.”

“Did you find out what year we’re going to visit next?”

“Yes,” said Hunter. “The information was in the console that controls the sphere. Our next mission will take us to Moscow in the winter of 1941, during the Battle of Moscow between Nazi Germany and Soviet Russia.”

Dictator

2140 A.D.

1

R. HUNTER EASED his muscular six and a half feet into the office chair. As usual, he looked northern European, with short blond hair and blue eyes, though he could change his shape and appearance at will. The humans on his team were all due to meet him here shortly.

Jane Maynard, the roboticist, and Steve Chang, the team’s general assistant, were having breakfast. Hunter had wanted them to have a solid night’s sleep. The team had returned only yesterday from the German rebellion against the Roman Empire in A.D. 9. During the evening, Hunter had arranged to hire an expert historian named Judy Taub for their next mission. She had arrived a short time ago and was taking a few free minutes to see the sights around Mojave Center before rejoining Hunter.

Hunter was a robot who had been especially designed and built to lead the search for Mojave Center Governor, the missing Governor robot. MC Governor, by contrast, was an experimental gestalt robot who was supposed to be running the underground desert city of Mojave Center. Instead, he had separated into his six component gestalt humaniform robots and vanished.

Each of the gestalt robots had fled back in time to a different era. Hunter and his team of humans had made three journeys in pursuit of them and had returned the first three components to the office of MC Governor, where they stood merged and shut down, waiting for the other three. However, Hunter had to report to the Governor Robot Oversight Committee on his progress after each mission. He had already requested that the city computer call the four members of the Committee for him.

“Hunter, city computer calling. I have the Governor Robot Oversight Committee on a conference call for you.”

“Please connect me.”

Split portrait shots of the four faces of the Committee members appeared on Hunter’s internal video screen. Everyone exchanged greetings. Then Hunter began his report.

“MC 3 has been joined to MC 1 and MC 2,” said Hunter.

“I can hardly believe it,” said Dr. Redfield, the tall blonde. “So fast? You’re doing a very fine job.”

“It is not complete yet, of course,” said Hunter soberly. “I cannot guarantee that the remaining searches will not take longer.”

“I understand,” said Dr. Redfield.

“Where did you locate MC 3?” Dr. Chin shook long black hair out of her face.

“In central Europe,” said Hunter. He hoped he would never have to tell them about the time travel device and so always tried to be vague in his answers to the Committee. Since he was performing his duties acceptably, they had not argued with him. “Naturally, all three gestalt robots that are in custody have been placed in a secure location.”

“You’re as efficient as usual,” said Professor Post, his smile bright in his black beard. “What information do you have about your next mission?”

“For MC 4, I have a lead in Eastern Europe at this time,” said Hunter.

“Eastern Europe?” Dr. Chin raised her eyebrows. “So close to the site of MC 3’s hiding place?”

“This is the information I have,” said Hunter carefully. “I assume it is correct.”

“You have remained on a very tight schedule,” said Dr. Khanna, a native of India. “You have retrieved one missing gestalt robot each day since you began. I look forward to seeing the completion of your duties. Personally, however, I would still like a report on your activities to date.”

“As I said before, no guarantee of consistent future results can be made,” said Hunter. He deliberately answered only Dr. Khanna’s first concern.

“Come now,” said Dr. Khanna. “Suppose we do not ask for a guarantee, but merely a prediction. Do you have any reason to believe that the next mission, for instance, will be more difficult than the previous ones?”

“I consider each mission to be a blank slate,” said Hunter. “The specific answer to your question is ‘no,’ but I have virtually no knowledge of what I shall face.”

“You’re very cautious, as always,” said Dr. Chin. “I’m sure that’s fine with us. Good luck.”

“Yes, Hunter,” said Dr. Redfield quickly. “We are not pressuring you.”

“I should begin the next mission,” said Hunter. “If you have no more questions, I shall get started.”

“Of course,” said Professor Post. “Good hunting.”

“I am not ready to sign off,” said Dr. Khanna suddenly. “I still wish to hear a report on your activities to date. Is there some reason you will not give it?”

“I am seeking the highest efficiency possible,” Hunter said carefully. Privately, that meant concealing the existence of time travel; he felt that widespread knowledge of it would harm humanity as a whole, so his adherence to the First Law would not allow him to reveal it.

“Come on, Dr. Khanna,” said Dr. Chin wearily. “We should let him get back to work. Good-bye, Hunter.”

Dr. Khanna disconnected abruptly, without speaking.

As Hunter broke his connection, Steve and Jane came into the office.

“Morning, Hunter,” said Steve cheerfully. “What’s next on the agenda?”

“Good morning,” said Jane, with a smile. Highlights in her long brown hair brightened the little room. “I guess we’re all ready.”

“Good morning,” said Hunter. He looked past Jane and saw that Judy Taub was also coming to the door of the office.

“Judy Taub, Steve Chang and Jane Maynard.”

“Pleased to meet you.” Judy was short, with curly brown hair. She shook hands with them both. “The history of the old Soviet Union is my field. The Stalin regime, including of course World War II, is my particular specialty.”

“This will be the most recent period we’ve visited,” said Jane. “Its society will be the most complex, I imagine.”

“If they didn’t have robots, our search is going to be about the same no matter what,” said Steve.

“I arranged for all three of you to have your inoculations this morning,” said Hunter. “You have taken them?”

“Yes,” said Judy.

“Of course,” said Jane.

“Yeah.” Steve nodded. “Hunter, have you briefed Judy already?”

“I have briefed her about Mojave Center Governor and the gestalt robots. Also, of course, I told her we are going back to Moscow in 1941.”

“And he swore me to secrecy,” Judy added, with an easy grin. “About the time travel. But it’s exciting. I can hardly wait to try it.”

“I have not yet explained the miniaturization of the component robots to her,” Hunter added. “Perhaps Jane can do it most efficiently.”

“Miniaturization?” Judy turned to Jane.

“I suppose the easiest way to explain the miniaturization is in terms of the Laws of Robotics,” said Jane. “The Third Law of Robotics says, ‘A robot must protect its own existence, as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Laws.’”

“Yes, I know the principle, if not the exact wording,” said Judy. “But what about this miniaturization?”

“The reasoning behind it goes like this,” said Jane. “MC Governor is the only one of the experimental Governor robots that did not shut down due to a malfunction. The Governor Robot Oversight Committee needs Hunter — and us — to restore MC Governor so they can figure out what caused the malfunction of the others.”

“Yes, Hunter told me that part.”

“But the Third Law drove MC Governor to split into his component robots and flee to avoid being dismantled during the investigation.”

“Yeah … that’s why they ran away to different times in history. Go on.”

“Well, the component robots also used the time travel process to miniaturize themselves to microscopic size,” Jane said, watching for Judy’s reaction.

“Really? I didn’t know that was possible.” Judy looked around at them all in surprise.

“Well, it wasn’t, until MC Governor developed the process himself. The component robots apparently wanted to avoid receiving any instructions from humans. Even MC 1, who went back to the dinosaur age, was anticipating that he would survive into the human era. The Second Law of Robotics says, ‘A robot must obey the orders given it by human beings, except where such orders would conflict with the First Law.’”

“So when they became microscopic, they were invisible to humans,” Steve added. “That was the important part to the component robots.”

“And so no one would give them any orders. Okay.” Judy nodded. “Then what?”

“The process was flawed,” said Jane. “Each gestalt component robot returns to his full, normal size eventually. When he does, the Laws of Robotics will drive him to behave in certain ways — saving humans from harm, following their instructions, and saving themselves when they can — and so each robot runs the risk of changing history.”

“A very strong likelihood, in Hunter’s opinion,” Steve added with a grin.

Hunter nodded but waited patiently for Jane to finish her explanation.

“Yes, I see,” said Judy. “The First Law, in particular. I remember it now. The First Law says, ‘A robot may not injure a human being, or through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.’”

“Very good,” said Jane. “That’s one reason it’s so urgent for us to go back and get these robots before they change anything.”

“Only one reason? Are there more?”

“Yes,” said Hunter. “This must remain private among us, because we hope to undo this event. Have you heard on the news about the explosion in Russia?”

“I heard something on my flight here early this morning — trouble in Moscow?”

“Yes,” said Hunter. “More than ordinary trouble. A nuclear explosion has occurred.”

“A nuclear explosion?” Judy’s eyes widened suddenly. “And that has something to do with our trip back to Moscow in 1941?”

“Exactly,” said Hunter. “We have learned that when the gestalt robots return to the approximate time at which they left, an instability created by their flawed miniaturization causes them to explode with nuclear force.”

“The approximate time? Not the exact time?”

“The gestalt robots left a couple of days ago,” said Hunter. “Apparently the instability is so unpredictable that a few days’ worth of uncertainty is involved.”

“I see. Now I definitely get the picture.” She nodded gravely. “Somehow or other, you figured out that the next component robot will return to full size in 1941. So we’re going back there to get him before he can change history — and before he can explode in our own time.”

“You got it,” said Steve.

“But why did these component robots go all over the world?” Judy asked. “Why bother? Why not just go microscopic right where they were? If they expected to remain that way, what difference would it make? No human could find them anyway.”

“Each component robot specialized in certain areas within MC Governor to run the city,” said Jane. “I believe their specialities influenced their choice of where to hide, even though they never expected to participate in human affairs again.”

“How was MC 4 influenced?”

“I found out that MC 4 was in charge of ethics and morality as applied to the society of Mojave Center. I believe he was drawn to this era because of the tyranny of both Stalin and Hitler.”

“I agree,” said Hunter. “Judy, is this review sufficient for now?”

“Uh — yes. I’m still absorbing it all.”

“We should move to the Bohung Institute,” said Hunter. “During the night, I arranged to have our period clothing and belongings prepared. I left them there for Judy to examine. You have completed your sleep courses in the pertinent languages?”

“Yes,” said Jane.

“Let’s go,” said Steve.

Hunter called for a Security vehicle and drove it through the smooth, clean streets of Mojave Center. Broad avenues and narrower side streets ran throughout the underground city, connected by ramps to different levels. Robots drove various sorts of vehicles up and down the streets on their maintenance duties; human pedestrians strolled quietly past the shops and office buildings. The city continued to function normally, its occupants unaware of Hunter’s mission.

Hunter stopped outside the front doors of the Bohung Institute. The entire Bohung Institute had been closed and guarded by a detail of Security robots under Hunter’s orders. Inside the Institute, Hunter led the team to Room F-12.

This was a large room designed primarily to house an opaque sphere about fifteen meters in diameter. The remainder of the room was lined with countertops. The counters were occupied by computers, monitors, a communications console, and miscellaneous office items.

“Judy is fluent in both Russian and German,” said Hunter. “However, I have not yet asked — Steve and Jane, were your sleep courses in those languages effective last night?”

“Sure,” said Steve, with a smirk. “la.”

“Da,” said Jane. “They worked fine.”

“Good. I took the data from the city computer myself.” Hunter pointed to the clothes and shoes neatly piled on the counter. “Judy, would you look at those for authenticity before we dress?”

“Of course.”

“And we shall all take back a certain amount of Soviet currency from that time,” said Hunter. “I shall pass it out when everyone is dressed.”

One by one, Judy shook out the heavy winter clothing. Hunter and Steve had brown wool slacks and long black wool coats, with white cotton shirts, singlets, socks, and underwear. Judy and Jane had dark blue wool dresses, long black coats, scarves, and white cotton underwear. Gloves, black leather belts, and shoes completed their wardrobe.

“The styles are good,” said Judy, peering closely at the stitching. “We can’t take synthetics, though. Cotton thread?”

“Yes,” said Hunter.

“Same with the shoelaces?”

“Yes.”

She nodded and turned to Hunter. “The only oddity is that none of the clothes have labels. A label would give the size of the clothing, maybe with a stamped or stenciled number.”

“How important is that?” Hunter asked. “Our earlier missions took place at times when such labels were not used.”

“I doubt anyone will notice,” said Judy. “If they do, we must all remember to say that we didn’t notice, or that they came off in the laundry.”

“Simple enough,” said Steve.

“How about the jewelry?” Jane pointed to three decorative metal lapel pins lying in a tray.

Judy picked one up. “This is more than just a pin, isn’t it?”

“They’re radio communicators,” said Hunter. “As a robot, I shall use my internal system, but you three must wear those. Will they pass?”

“Yes. They look simple enough. But Jane and I have scarves for our heads. You two should have fur hats.”

“I have considered this,” said Hunter. “Animal fur is not available to us here and we dare not take synthetic fur back with us. I can tolerate the temperature without one. If Steve requires such a hat, we shall obtain one back in that time.”

“Got it,” said Judy.

“Steve,” said Hunter, pointing to a canvas bag on the counter. “That is an imitation duffel bag of the Soviet Red Army from this period. If Judy passes it, too, then you can carry a change of clothes for each team member and some hard rolls and dried beef strips in it. These duffel bags will be common at the time, and we can explain its possession if necessary. We know food will be scarce, but what we take must not attract attention.”

“That’s good enough,” Steve said quietly.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” said Judy, pulling it open to look inside.

“We must assume that our opponents could be a factor,” said Hunter. “Jane, would you brief Judy on them — very briefly.”

“Dr. Wayne Nystrom created the experimental Governors,” said Jane. “However, he is not willing to let us simply reconstruct MC Governor and turn him over to the Governor Robot Oversight Committee. Wayne has also gone back into the past and is trying to get the component robots away from us.”

“To what end?” Judy asked.

“He wants to dismantle and study them himself,” said Hunter. “To find and fix the source of the malfunction on his own. We have prevented him from getting the first three, but we have not been able to grab Wayne. He has the ability to move in time without returning here and he has a robot named R. Ishihara helping him.”

“I see,” said Judy quietly.

“Please change into your costumes,” said Hunter.

While Judy took the first turn in the adjoining room, Hunter called the Security detail. He assigned a new Security robot, R. Daladier, to replace Ishihara. When Jane stepped out after her turn, now dressed as a Muscovite woman of 1941, Hunter turned to Jane.

“Jane, this is Daladier; he will guard the room.” Hunter turned to Daladier. “You must understand that our mission involves potential harm to all humans in the world today. Ishihara, failing to be certain of that, failed his instructions. What I say to you constitutes a First Law imperative. Nothing any human, such as Dr. Wayne Nystrom, says can be allowed to deter your adherence to the assignment I am about to give you.”

“Acknowledged,” said Daladier.

“You must take custody of Dr. Wayne Nystrom and R. Ishihara if they reappear in this room through the sphere. As soon as we have gone, you will shut off your hearing and radio reception so that if Wayne returns here, he cannot use the Second Law to control you or to argue this First Law imperative with you. You will not read anything Wayne tries to show you; you can blur your vision slightly to avoid this if necessary, while still maintaining enough sight to stop them. The moment you see Or. Nystrom, you will apprehend him, prevent him from leaving the room, and immediately call for help from the rest of the Security detail that is assigned to guard the Institute.”

“Agreed,” said Daladier. “Is R. Ishihara of equal importance?”

“No, he isn’t,” said Jane. “Or. Nystrom is critically important. Ishihara is only important in that he is helping Wayne Nystrom.”

“I do not expect them,” Hunter added. “This is merely a contingency, in the event that you have the opportunity to act.”

Steve should have taken his turn to change. Instead, looking unusually grim, he had not moved. Jane frowned at him, puzzled.

“Those who are ready, please enter the sphere,” said Hunter. “I shall set the timer and the console controls.”

“You don’t need me,” said Steve. “I’m not going.”

2

STEVE LOOKED AROUND at all of them, knowing he would get an argument.

“What?” Jane demanded angrily.

“I don’t think I should go,” said Steve.

“I am surprised,” said Hunter, studying his face. “Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing’s wrong. But I’m not necessary. I started thinking about this when I woke up this morning, but I didn’t really decide until now.”

“What are you talking about?” Jane glared at him. “Decide what?”

“You don’t need me this time. Look, in the Late Cretaceous, maintaining our camp out in the wild was critical to survival. I made a real contribution. On the trip to Jamaica, well, I went because I had agreed to — you could have managed without me.”

“Not after Rita took off on her own,” said Jane.

“And last time, as I think back on the trip to Roman Germany, we spent most of our energy trying to find each other after we split up. I don’t think I added anything.”

“Not true,” said Hunter. “You helped carry our belongings and accompanied Jane, allowing us to divide the team when it seemed advisable.”

“Well, anyhow, you really don’t need me in a more recent human era like 1941.” Steve turned to Judy. “Aren’t all the necessities for human life going to be available in Moscow at that timer’

“Well, generally. But it’s in the middle of a war, where everyone has hardships — some of them severe.” She shrugged. “It’s hard to say exactly what life will be like for us on a given day.”

“I can’t help with that. Anything that’s happened because of wartime conditions is beyond my help, anyway. And Hunter can protect everyone. He can also carry the duffel bag more easily than I can.”

Jane looked at Hunter helplessly.

“It is true that your duties have changed with each mission,” said Hunter. “However, your help has sometimes occurred in situations that were not predictable beforehand. You understand the challenges and the constraints under which the team works. I believe we still need your participation.”

Steve shook his head. “I doubt it. You can keep Jane and Judy with you and concentrate on MC 4 and Wayne. I’d like to take my pay for the earlier trips and go on home.”

“How can you just walk away like this?” Jane shouted. “We’ve all been working together. And you didn’t say anything at breakfast this morning to me. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was still thinking about it,” said Steve, surprised at her vehemence.

“You’re betraying all of us.” She turned her back angrily and folded her arms.

“You hired me, remember? I didn’t take any special oath of loyalty. It’s a job. And you don’t need me to do it.” Steve turned to Hunter. “You remember when you came up to my place on the mountain?”

“Of course,” said Hunter.

“You needed someone familiar with the outdoors to make and maintain camp for your team in the age of dinosaurs. That was your basis for hiring me.”

“Yes, that is correct.”

“You don’t need that in Moscow in 1941. And you didn’t really need it in Jamaica.”

“We needed you in Port Royal!” Jane whirled around again, making her long coat swirl. “Don’t you remember what we did together — sneaking up on pirate ships and getting into those sword fights? And jumping off to row ashore? What if I’d been alone, Steve?”

“You wouldn’t have been in that situation without me to start with,” said Steve. “I’m glad I helped. But you know every mission is different.”

“Your skills could have been necessary in Germany of A.D. 9, as well,” said Hunter. “The wilderness had many dangers. You did accompany Jane at important times. We did not utilize most of your skills, I admit, but we might have needed them.”

“All right, granted,” said Steve. “But not in Moscow. Not in the time you’re going to visit now.”

“You’ve been part of this team!” Jane insisted angrily. “Your companionship and experience are part of this team, too. How can you do this?”

Steve just shook his head. “I don’t like the idea of being tied down. Hunter, send someone up to my shack with my pay. Judy, nice to meet you. Good luck, Hunter. Bye, Jane.” He turned toward the door.

“Where are you going now?” Hunter asked.

“Back home, of course.”

“How will you get there?”

“That’s my worry.” Steve slipped out the door of the room. The door closed behind him and his footsteps sounded quickly down the hall.

Hunter watched Steve go, reviewing his past behavior quickly. Nothing Steve had said or done recently had revealed any desire to quit the team. He was as startled as Jane.

“What are we going to do?” Jane asked quietly.

“How important is he?” Judy asked. “As the newcomer, I don’t really know what’s going on.”

“He is essentially correct,” said Hunter. “The tasks for which I originally hired him are no longer necessary. We shall go.” He hoisted the duffel bag and passed out some of the Soviet currency to Jane and Judy. “First I shall tend the console and then I shall help you both into the sphere.”

Jane and Judy looked at each other in surprise. Hunter was aware that as humans, their emotions did not shift instantly. However, he saw no reason to delay their departure further.

In a moment, Hunter had set the timer in the console. After Jane and Judy were safely inside the big sphere with the duffel bag, he climbed inside and shut the door. As always, the interior was dark and crowded. Then the sphere vanished.

All three of them tumbled onto cold, hard ground in near darkness. The barest hint of sunset was still visible in the west. The sky was clear and the moon threw a gentle light. Their breath frosted in the icy air.

Hunter turned up his hearing and infrared vision to scan the immediate area for danger. They were in open, barren land a short distance from the edge of Moscow. No one was near them. “We are safe for the moment.”

“Where are we?” Judy got to her feet, brushing off her coat. “My ears are cold already.” She untied her scarf from her neck and moved it over her head, knotting it under her chin.

Jane imitated her.

“We are on the outskirts of Moscow,” said Hunter. “I brought us here to avoid appearing right in front of the local people.” He pointed. “The city is blacked out because of the war, but if you look that way, you can see some light leaking out of the shades of windows here and there.”

“I see them,” said Judy.

“Are you warm enough?” Hunter asked.

“Yeah. And walking will help,” said Judy.

“I’m okay,” said Jane. “But I wish Steve had come.”

“The walk will not be as long as it looks,” said Hunter. He shouldered the duffel bag and they started.

“Hunter, have you discussed the chaos theory of history with Judy?”

“Not yet,” said Hunter.

“I’m familiar with it,” said Judy, in a derisive tone. “But I just don’t buy it. Not every little, tiny event is going to change the sweep of major historical trends.”

“In our experience, that has proved to be true of the most insignificant events,” said Hunter.

“I don’t want to hear about any rigid rules,” said Judy. “Now, obviously, we won’t assassinate Stalin or Hitler; we probably couldn’t do it if we tried. Anything less than that is not likely to change the course of World War II from where we stand.”

“You sound like Steve on this subject,” said Jane. “Except that you know your history.”

“Only large-scale changes can alter the flow of history,” said Judy. “I see nothing wrong with an aggressive involvement with events while we’re here.”

“I admit that the most extreme chaos theory of history has not been supported by our actions,” said Hunter. “In our first three missions into the past, we clearly caused certain changes by our very presence and behavior, even though the changes were all very minor. No identifiable changes occurred in our own time.”

“Exactly my point,” said Judy.

“Our remaining problem is this,” Hunter added. “None of us knows exactly when the threshold of change will be crossed. At some point, the sheer weight of the small changes may precipitate a major one. So we must remain very concerned about this principle.”

“I just don’t see how the three of us alone can bring about that much change,” said Judy. “The threshold is pretty high, if you ask me.”

“I shall point out an example pertaining to Egypt,” said Hunter. “During the Napoleonic Wars, a battle was fought in Egypt between the British and French. The French defeat was significant but not ultimately decisive. However, a French soldier digging a trench unearthed the Rosetta stone, which led to the later translation of ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics. That translation in turn gave archaeologists the ability to read important writings, illuminating many centuries of history.”

“Yeah, I know about that,” said Judy.

“I didn’t,” said Jane. “What you’re saying is that the chaotic result of the French campaign was extremely important in ways that had nothing to do with the war.”

“Yes,” said Hunter.

“We might argue that the Rosetta stone, or something similar, would have been found within a few decades anyway,” said Judy. “Or that making these translations of hieroglyphics did not, after all, make a real difference in the development of society and industry in our own time at all.”

“Isn’t that an odd argument for a historian?” Jane asked. “To suggest that learning about history isn’t important?”

“Wait a minute.” Judy laughed. “I’m just saying that importance is relative.”

“I submit the following,” said Hunter. “Many young people who will enter positions of importance in the Cold War that follows World War II were present in the Battle of Moscow. Altering which of them live or die could change the course of the Cold War, theoretically bringing about the global nuclear war that was in fact just barely avoided during the second half of the twentieth century.”

“Well, I can see that argument. But maybe the individuals wouldn’t matter that much. Maybe the situation dictated decisions, not the individuals. Sometimes that happens.”

“Our immediate concern is MC 4,” said Jane.

“Yes,” said Hunter. “I believe that when MC 4 returns to full size, the First Law will drive him to interfere with the war if he can.”

Jane nodded. “With MC 4’s background in ethics and morality, his interpretation of the First Law will probably have him focus on individuals who make decisions.”

“Judy, where would that take him?” Hunter asked.

“You’re saying he will attempt to interfere with those who give the orders and carry out the mass destruction,” Judy said slowly. “That could take him almost anywhere. Immense suffering takes place on both sides, on all levels. These two regimes both operated on fear and power emanating from the top. Decisions to cooperate and obey orders had to be made all the way down the command structure to the bottom.”

“Sounds horrible,” said Jane.

“It was,” said Judy. “Or, I should say, it is.”

They walked in silence for a while. As they drew closer, Hunter observed the buildings of Moscow. Clearly, the city was not under attack tonight.

“We must find shelter for the night,” he said. “Judy, where would this be most likely?”

“Well, let me think a minute. We’re in the first week of December 1941. By this time, the German advance has been close to Moscow for several months. It has stalled right now, but Moscow has been bombarded. Many people have fled the city and others have been displaced by the destruction.”

“Are you saying that shelter will be difficult to find?” Hunter asked.

“No. Actually, thousands of people are living in schools and empty warehouses. Soviet factories have been moved east across the Ural mountains to get them away from the Germans, so lots of big buildings are empty. We should be able to join a crowd of people in one of them. After all, it’s only early evening. Everyone will still be awake.”

“Good.”

By the time the team had entered the city streets, Hunter could see that the city was still active in its relative darkness. Crowds of people were trudging home on the sidewalks from their daily responsibilities, a few laughing and talking but most quiet and exhausted. From behind all the drapes and shades in the windows, hints of light revealed that people were inside.

Jane wrinkled her nose. “What’s the smell? Something’s burning?”

“Coal,” said Judy. “They burn it to heat buildings. The smoke always smells like that.”

“Yuck.”

Judy nudged Hunter and pointed down one block, where a big truck with an open back had stopped. A large group of people, mostly women, were climbing down and going into the entrance of a building. Hunter changed direction and led his companions down to the entrance.

Two dour men of average height but substantial girth stood by the doors in heavy overcoats and scarves, watching the crowd stream inside.

“We should pose as a family,” said Judy quietly. “They will view us better that way.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Given our looks, let’s present you and Jane as brother and sister; I’ll be a cousin. And you must have some reason for not being in the army.”

“What reason will work?”

“Can you affect an exaggerated limp?”

“Yes, I understand.” Hunter nodded and began to limp on his left leg. “This will fit perfectly with our possession of the military duffel bag. And it is time for us to switch to speaking Russian.”

3

WHEN THE TEAM reached the entrance to the darkened building, one of the men guarding it moved to block his way. “Yes, comrade? I have not seen you before.”

“Our home is destroyed,” said Hunter. “We need a place to stay.” He hefted the duffel bag on the strap. “We have no other belongings now but this.”

“Where was this home?” The other man glared suspiciously at him.

“To the west of Moscow,” said Judy quickly. “On a collective farm. Overrun by the Germans, now.”

Hunter could see that she had been caught off guard by the question. He did not respond, concerned that he might contradict something she would say. She still had the best chance of answering to the guard’s satisfaction.

“The Germans have been in their positions for weeks. Where have you been until tonight?”

“A warehouse,” said Judy. “It was too crowded. They threw us out.”

“You are husband and wife?” The guard looked back and forth between them.

“No,” said Hunter. He nodded toward Jane. “This is my sister.”

“Yes,” said Jane. “Our parents died in the war.”

“I’m his cousin,” Judy added.

“And where did your parents die?” Jane hesitated. “I was so upset when it happened …” She turned to Judy uncomfortably.

“We were on the run,” said Judy, with more confidence now. “They were killed somewhere along the highway from Minsk, near Smolensk.”

“And where exactly was your collective farm?”

“Just south of Smolensk.”

“What was it called?”

“The Smolensk Collective Number Two.” The guard studied her face for a moment, apparently without more questions.

“You sustained an injury, comrade,” said the other man, more patiently. “What happened?”

“My cousin was wounded in the Battle of Leningrad,” Judy said proudly. “He was nearly killed. When he could walk, they sent him home to take care of us.”

“Welcome, comrade,” said the second man. “Let them in, Yevgeny. We cannot have them freeze all night.”

The first man nodded and stepped aside.

Hunter led his team inside. They found themselves in a very large, single room that took up the entire ground floor. Two stories high, with windows that had been painted black, it was already crowded. A few people had brought chairs or cots, but most were spreading blankets on the bare wooden floor to mark their personal territory.

“Looks like a warehouse,” said Judy. “It probably housed industrial materials that were shipped east with the factory equipment.”

“People are favoring the sides and the front,” said Hunter. “The back corners are not taken yet. Let us move there quickly and take one for its relative privacy.”

Hunter patiently picked his way through the crowded room to the right rear corner. It was far from the heating vents, but not too cold. He set down the duffel bag.

“Over there,” said Judy, pointing across the room. “Look. An old woman is passing out blankets to some people.”

“We should get some for the two of you,” said Hunter.

“You stay here,” said Judy. “Protect our space. I’ll get them.”

“Take Jane,” said Hunter. “I shall watch you carefully from here.”

“Oh, I don’t think we’re in immediate danger.” Judy headed for the blankets and Jane followed her.

Hunter observed that his concern was overstated. Under stress, humans could be short-tempered and violent, but the people here had fallen into a regular routine, beaten down by the hardships of war and exhaustion. From what Judy had said, this society itself also regimented them severely.

Judy and Jane returned with some blankets.

“They’re wool,” Judy said, handing one to Hunter. “Scratchy, but clean and heavy.”

“I’m not complaining,” said Jane. “It’s the only padding we’ll have on the floor, too.”

“Use mine for your padding as well.” Hunter gave his back to Judy.

Judy and Jane spread out the blankets to sit on. Hunter sat down on the bare floor and leaned back against the cold wall. He saw that no one was close enough to overhear him if he spoke quietly.

“Judy, where would MC 4 go in order to prevent the most harm with the least effort?”

“Well …” Judy glanced around. Then she whispered, switching to English. “He might try to stop the NKVD — the Soviet secret police. They act paranoid, and are irrationally cruel to everyone. Their own people are their primary target. They are always hunting out potential security risks to the government, but that often means execution or lifetime imprisonment for people who merely ask for information or express an opinion. And for talking about them, English is even better than Russian. We can’t chance being understood.”

“Are they actually a greater danger than the upcoming battle itself?” Hunter shifted to English, leaning close to her and lowering his own voice to a whisper.

“The battle will cause a lot of suffering,” said Judy. “But the Soviets will win the Battle of Moscow. It’s their first major victory of the war.”

“Are you sure it’s safe to speak English?” Jane whispered, glancing around. “If we’re heard, they’ll know we aren’t Russian peasants.”

“For the NKVD, yes,” said Judy. “We’re better off raising suspicion than being overheard clearly.”

“On this subject, then, we shall risk it,” whispered Hunter. “However, Judy, the Soviets do not know they are going to win. MC 4 mayor may not know; I cannot assume his motives or information in choosing to come here. Jane has surmised that he has come here because of his responsibility for ethics in Mojave Center, but we have no certainty. So my question about the danger from the NKVD still stands.”

“All right,” said Judy. “I’ll give you the whole picture. Despite their impending counterattack, the Soviets are still on the defensive because this is their territory. As they see it, they must either surrender to Nazi cruelty or run. If they flee, they expect to suffer even more from the winter and the pursuing enemy than if they fight. The Russian people are caught between Stalin, Hitler, and the Russian winter. Those are unbelievably horrible options.”

“You are saying what?” Hunter asked.

“I’m saying that the Russians don’t feel they have much of a choice about whether to fight. So MC 4 can’t go to Stalin, or the Soviet generals, and talk them out of the violence. And if he tries to persuade the NKVD to be more reasonable, they’ll throw him in prison or blow his electronic brains out.”

“The German army is the aggressor on the military front, then,” said Jane. “Maybe he’ll try to stop them.”

“He doesn’t really need to,” said Judy. “Since the Soviets are going to drive them back anyhow. By this time, the German army is almost frozen in place.”

“What happened to them?” Hunter asked. “How could they get this far and then fail without being defeated?”

“They were handled with tremendous incompetence by Hitler. And one of the top German generals refused to issue winter clothing to his troops. He was afraid they would lose confidence in his personal guarantee that they would take shelter in Moscow before the winter turned cold.”

“That’s crazy,” said Jane.

“That’s right,” said Judy grimly. “If it weren’t for the suffering of all the ordinary people caught in the middle, I’d say these two regimes — Hitler’s and Stalin’s — simply deserved each other.”

“Suppose MC 4 convinced the Germans to turn away from Moscow,” said Hunter.

“I don’t see how,” said Judy. “Hitler’s not at the front, and he makes the ultimate strategic decisions.”

“Please consider the supposition.”

“Well — if the battle doesn’t take place, that would be a change of some magnitude,” she said slowly. “But I can’t see it reversing the course of the war. The Soviets will still have the initiative on this front.”

“Perhaps the German command should not be our first priority,” said Hunter. “I brought us here because the data in the sphere console told me that Moscow, not the German lines to the west, was MC 4’s destination. The site of the nuclear explosion confirmed it.”

“MC 4 may move quickly once he returns to full size,” said Jane. “We don’t know if he would choose to stay in Moscow or not.”

“The center of the recent explosion in our own time was in Moscow,” Hunter added. “Of course, MC 4 could have moved around a great deal between now and our own time, once he had the advantages of normal human size. For now, we will remain in Moscow and try to learn if anyone of MC 4’s description has been noticed.”

Judy nodded.

“Do we have a plan of action?” Jane asked.

“I do not want to separate the team,” said Hunter. “As you know, we have had reason to regret doing so in each of the previous missions.”

“And without Steve, one of us would be alone,” Jane added, shaking her head.

“Dinnertime,” said Judy, nodding toward the front.

Much of the crowd had lined up to receive meager rations of bread, boiled potatoes, and water from the long table. The remainder were still arranging their personal belongings at various places around the floor. Only a few had already been served.

Hunter stood up. “We must join the line.”

“Time to switch back to Russian,” said Jane.

Hunter led them to the rear of the line, where they waited patiently. They passed through the line, receiving their dinner of thin soup and a hard roll in an odd assortment of dishes. Then they returned to their corner to eat.

Jane and Judy sat in the corner itself. Hunter placed himself where his body would block the view of them from the other occupants of the room. Then he slipped some of their dried meat out of the duffel bag for Jane and Judy to eat while no one else could see them.

Hunter observed that the Russians were still wide awake after dinner. His team’s first two missions had taken place in summer and the most recent in early fall. This was the first one to take place in winter, with early nightfall. Bedtime would not arrive for a few hours yet. Of his team members, Jane had recently completed a full night’s sleep, though Judy had risen very early to make the trip to Mojave Center.

As Jane finished her dinner, chewing on her hard roll, she saw Judy lean to her right to see past Hunter.

“You know,” Judy said quietly. “After years of studying this era, I finally have a chance to see the people of this time for myself. Since most of the people here are women, I’m sure that I can approach them comfortably for a little conversation.”

“Please be careful,” said Hunter.

“I’ll return our dishes when we’re all finished,” said Judy. “Then I’ll see if I can strike up a conversation on my way back through the crowd. Maybe I can learn something.”

“You want to talk to people?” Jane asked, glancing at Hunter.

“Please be very careful,” Hunter repeated.

Judy smiled. “Don’t worry. I have as much fear of the NKVD as anyone here.”

“We do not want to change anyone’s behavior unnecessarily,” Hunter added.

“I don’t think anything I can say here will change the outcome of the battle.”

“I’ll go with you,” said Jane.

They collected their empty dishes and worked their way back to the front of the warehouse. Jane knew that Judy believed Hunter had an exaggerated fear of how much influence any of the team could possibly have on historical events. So Jane wanted to keep tabs on how Judy handled herself.

Judy took her time on the return trip, looking around for someone to approach. Many people were obviously as comfortable as they could get, having grown accustomed to life in these conditions. Others tended babies or small children and were too occupied to make small talk. Jane followed her, also surveying the crowd.

“How about her?” Jane asked quietly, pointing to one side of the room.

A tired, bent, elderly woman fumbled with her blanket, trying to shake it out with stiff, gnarled fingers. She shuffled to one side, still stooped over, and shook it again. No one paid any attention to her.

Judy worked her way toward her in the crowd. The old woman was obviously alone, though others sat nearby with their own families. By the time Judy reached her, the old woman was on her hands and knees, patiently smoothing and straightening the blanket on the hard floor.

Judy squatted down and tugged the wrinkles out of the last corner. The old woman looked up at her, startled. She looked scared.

“I’m only helping,” Judy said gently. “I’m sorry if I surprised you.”

The old woman nodded, still watching Judy cautiously. Then she glanced up at Jane, who had come to stand behind Judy. The woman’s face was sharp-featured and deeply lined. After a moment, she relaxed a little and sat down on the blanket.

“I’m Judy Taub. What’s your name?”

“Ivana Voronov,” she said quietly. She smiled, though, for the first time. “Please sit down.” She patted the blanket and looked up at Jane again. “And your friend, too.”

Judy squatted down on the blanket, keeping her boots off of it. Jane joined her. The old woman looked back and forth between them, waiting for someone to say something.

“We’re new in this shelter,” said Judy.

“Oh? Where have you been?”

“Well … on the move. We’ve been displaced by the war.” Judy shrugged. “We saw everyone getting off the buses. Where were you? In a work brigade?”

“Oh, yes. We’re digging the big ditches to the west.”

“Ditches?” Jane asked, turning to Judy.

“Antitank ditches,” said Judy quietly. “A quarter million Muscovites are digging them with hand shovels. Three-quarters of the workers are women, since the men are either in the army or working in heavy industry. The ditches are to block the advance of German tanks from the west of the city.”

“By hand?” Jane shook her head, impressed. “Hard work. Especially in this weather.”

Ivana grimaced, rubbing her hands. “I can’t do very much at my age. My hands hurt all the time. So does my back. These young girls, now, they work very hard.”

“Thousands of people abandoned their jobs and homes during the past few months to get away from Moscow,” said Judy. “Fleeing the Germans long before the battle. Ivana, why didn’t you go then?”

“Yes, yes, those with money or companions or relatives to see all hurried away to the east. I had no means to travel and nowhere to go.”

“What about your family?” Judy asked gently. “Do you have family members in the army?”

“My sons are in the Red Army,” she said quietly, lowering her gaze to the blanket. “I have heard nothing from them for over a year.”

“Where’s your husband?” Jane asked.

“He was taken.” Ivana’s voice was almost a whisper. She lowered her head, hiding her face.

“You don’t mean by the Germans, do you?” Judy whispered slowly.

Ivana shook her head, wiping away tears.

Even Jane understood that the NKVD had taken her husband.

Judy leaned closer to her, still whispering. “Do you know why?”

“No. It was two years ago, when so many were taken. They gave no reason and I have heard nothing.”

Judy nodded.

Jane glanced at the people around them. If they were listening, they were pretending otherwise. However, Ivana had become a liability to them. With her husband arrested, she herself might be under the watch of the secret police. Her neighbors would not befriend her for fear that they, too, would come under the scrutiny of the NKVD.

“Have you been in this work brigade long?” Jane asked. “Staying here?”

“Oh, yes.” Ivana nodded, apparently glad to change the subject. “I’ve been in it for a couple of months. My own building was destroyed by shelling, so I had to come here. But it’s not a bad place. The shelter is good and they always have food here.”

“Do you know most of the people? At least by sight?” Jane leaned closer, too.

“I suppose. I don’t talk to very many people.” She shrugged, embarrassed.

“How about the other work brigades? Do you work alongside others?”

“Sometimes, yes. Not always. Our location each day is different. So long as we dig the ditches, no one cares which brigade we are next to or where we dug the day before.”

Jane turned to Judy. “I want to get Hunter. She might be able to help us locate … our friend.”

“All right,” said Judy. “Good idea. I’ll stay here with Ivana.”

Jane stood up and patiently worked her way over to Hunter. Now that the crowd had finished dinner and had taken their positions for the night, with some of them stretched out to relax, the way was more difficult. It took her a minute or a little more to reach him. He protectively watched her progress.

“Come and meet someone,” she said quickly. “I think she can help us.” She turned to point to Judy and Ivana.

They were gone.

4

HUNTER LOOKED WHERE Jane pointed. He saw the empty blanket neatly arranged on the floor. Then he scanned the room quickly for Judy and saw her by the door.

Two men in long, black wool overcoats were escorting Jane and an elderly woman out the front door of the warehouse. In the front, where others could see them, the crowd in the warehouse had fallen silent. Yet they also looked away, at each other or at their belongings, pretending not to notice as they kept their hands busy with little tasks.

“Who are they?” Jane whispered.

“Perhaps they are NKVD agents,” Hunter whispered back. “I would guess that they must be.”

“Oh, no.” Jane clutched his arm. “I’m sure they are. Ivana’s husband — that’s the old woman’s name — was taken by them a couple of years ago.”

“I have to get Judy back,” said Hunter, feeling a surge of tension from the First Law. “You will be much safer here than chasing the NKVD with me. Do you agree?”

“Yes. I’m sure I’ll be fine right here. I’ll stay here in the crowd and lie low. And I have my lapel pin to call you if I need to.”

“Good.” Hunter had no doubt that he could trust Jane’s judgment; unlike Steve, she had never caused trouble by improvising her moves. “In this crowd, of course, you will be in danger of being overheard if I call you, so I cannot.”

Jane nodded. “Get going.”

Hunter did not want to be seen leaving the warehouse. While Judy and Jane had returned the dishes and had spoken to Ivana, he had studied the layout of the building itself. Moving casually with his overcoat bundled under one arm, he worked his way to the rest room and went inside.

As he had surmised, its outside wall had one long, vertical window in a wooden casement. He turned on the water in the sink to create noise and pulled the window open with a creak and a low rumble. Then he turned off the water, slipped outside, and slowly pulled the window down again. It made more noise, but now he knew it would not be too loud. Once it was closed, he shook out his overcoat and put it on.

In the cold, clear winter night, Hunter turned and jogged toward the front of the warehouse.

Judy was scared as the men took her and Ivana out the front door. They were not rough, but held their prisoners’ arms firmly. Outside, they pushed Judy forward against a large, black car without a word and frisked her.

She and Ivana were put into the back of the car. The men had not spoken at all. They got in, slammed the doors, started the engine, and pulled away from the warehouse.

Ivana was quivering in terror, speechless and beyond tears. Judy reached over and held her hand. Ivana did not seem to notice.

Judy’s studies had taught her that Stalin was responsible for the deaths of more people than any other individual in history. She knew about the labor camps in the Gulag where people were tortured, starved, and worked to death, and about the mass murders committed by his agents here at the front. These people were beyond rational argument.

Truth and accuracy were not valued by this government. Just a few months before this time, the NKVD had threatened to arrest Red Air Force pilots as “panic mongers” when they had honestly reported the German advance toward Moscow. The values of the NKVD were so unpredictable that dealing with them was extremely dangerous.

Judy did not dare speak. Remembering her lapel communicator, however, she reached up and switched it on. The agents had not bothered with a thorough search yet; they might take it from her later. Now, however, Hunter might pick up some sounds through it, such as the engine noise from the car. She knew that the agents had ignored the modest pin as a danger because, in this time, no radio transmitter could be made that small.

The agents had come for Ivana without explanation. Apparently they had taken Judy because she had been with Ivana. That was all Judy knew about them.

She looked out the car window into the darkened city. Searchlights swept the cold, clear sky for enemy planes, but no attack was occurring. Even artillery shells were not falling. She knew that at this time, the German army was virtually immobile with the cold and was running out of both supplies and human energy as winter deepened.

Even with her knowledge of this period, she could not recall exactly when the aerial attacks took place, and when they had been discontinued. Tonight, apparently, Moscow was spared. Hoping that the ride would last a long time, she wondered if the lapel pin was actually transmitting.

When Hunter came around the comer of the warehouse, he found the streets deserted. He saw a single car driving away from the front of the warehouse. He stopped and shifted to his infrared vision, which made visible the silhouettes of Judy and Ivana in the backseat.

Hunter watched for a moment, unsure of what to do. Though he had more physical stamina than a human, even he could not keep up with a car for long, so when it was out of sight and hearing he would lose it.

Suddenly Hunter began to receive the static and engine noise from Judy’s transmitter. He understood that she had switched on her lapel pin. Now he had a chance to follow the car even after it left the range of his aural and visual sensors.

Before following the car, however, he decided to make himself less conspicuous by altering his appearance. His height was his most obvious feature, so he reduced it to six feet. Naturally, he could not change his total mass, so he remained just as heavy, but he now possessed a very solid, stocky build. He made his face broader to remain consistent with his new body. However, because he wanted Judy to be able to recognize him, he did not change his face very much. On their second mission he had done this, and when Jane had thought he was a buccaneer, she had clubbed him over the head with a belaying pin.

His clothes were now a problem. The bulky overcoat and shirt were still adequate, but his thicker waist threatened to pop the buttons on the waistband of his pants. He slimmed his waist again slightly, putting more mass into his legs. Then he paused to fold under his sleeves and cuffs, since they were now too long for his shorter limbs.

The red taillights of the car were nearly out of sight by now. Hunter could still hear the engine noise through Judy’s transmitter, however. He took off at a run.

The car turned a corner to the right and vanished. Hunter maintained his pace at first. Then, when he heard another vehicle coming up the street behind him, he ducked into the shadow of a doorway.

He lost more time as he waited, but he could not afford to be stopped by military police, or more NKVD agents, or anyone else in authority. At least the streets had very few people out who would notice him or report him. When the way was clear again, he ran as fast as he could, and soon made the same turn himself.

Ahead of him, the red taillights were already vanishing over a slight rise in the street. The black car had now joined a couple of other vehicles going in the same direction. However, with the radio signal to follow, Hunter could still identify the one he followed.

No pedestrians were on this street, either. Though the city was very dark, the clear sky gave Hunter enough moonlight to maneuver. He could hear the radio signal from Judy slowly and inexorably fading as the car drove away from him. Now he hoped that they would stop or at least be delayed before he lost the signal entirely.

Jane sat huddled in her corner of the warehouse, feeling very much alone. No one bothered her and, from what she could see, no one even seemed to have noticed her. She reassured herself with the reminder that, of course, Hunter would come hurrying back if she called him. On the other hand, she would not interfere with his hunt for Judy without an absolutely critical emergency right here. She was uncomfortable simply because she felt so isolated here in this cold, gloomy place.

If Steve had come on this mission, he would be here with her, right now.

Judy stiffened when the car pulled into the rear lot of a large building. The two men opened the back doors and pulled Judy and Ivana out by their arms. As before, the men did not speak.

The inside of the building was dimly lighted, cold, and silent. In the shadows, Judy saw old, decorative wooden molding that had been ignored for years, judging by the filth collected around it. From the regular distance separating the doors, she guessed it might have been a hotel in the Czarist years.

The footsteps of all four of them tapped loudly as they walked down a large hall. Judy and Ivana were taken to a small room lighted by a hanging lamp with a single bulb. Their escorts then left, loudly snapping the door lock into place. The room had no other doors and no windows.

Ivana quivered with fear. Judy looked around. The room was set up as an interrogation or meeting room, not as a prison cell. A long table ran down the center, with chairs on both sides of it. She eased Ivana into a chair, then pulled out another for herself, wondering how long they would have to wait for something else to happen.

“Ivana? Why would they want you?” Judy asked quietly. “Do you know?”

The old woman just stared at her.

“Why did they take your husband? What exactly happened? Maybe I can help somehow.”

Ivana just shook her head. Then she looked up at the light fixture and around the nearly empty room. She gestured vaguely at the walls.

Finally Judy understood what Ivana was trying to express. Ivana was afraid that the room was bugged with secret listening devices. In this era, such devices would be very unsophisticated by the standards of Judy’s time, but they would work. Judy simply nodded and stopped asking questions.

Suddenly Judy realized that if Hunter had been able to track her radio signal, it might also influence the NKVD reception. She decided, however, not to turn off her lapel pin. It was her only hope of telling Hunter where she was, so she would have to take the chance.

Now that the engine noise from the car was gone, she realized she should send a sound of some kind. She reached up and idly began tapping her lapel pin with her fingernails. Ivana paid no particular attention.

Judy decided that the fact that Ivana’s husband had been taken was enough reason for Ivana to be arrested, too. If he was still alive somewhere, he might have done or said something that had brought this about. Her sons, wherever they were with the Red Army, might also have attracted the attention of the political commissars assigned to the military.

Judy remembered one case from the Stalin era in which a man was sent to prison for thirty-five years because he asked an NKVD agent why his neighbor had been arrested. For that matter, Judy’s presence with Ivana in the crowded warehouse was the only reason that she had been taken.

Judy wondered why no one had questioned them yet.

As Hunter continued to run at a steady pace, except when he ducked out of sight from other vehicles, he realized that the signal from Judy was growing stronger. First the engine noise stopped, then he heard car doors opening and closing. Those sounds were followed by the creak of a building door and the sound of four sets of footsteps on an interior floor.

He knew that Judy and Ivana were unharmed so far from the questions Judy had asked Ivana. From those he had also surmised that they were alone. Though conversation had stopped, the clear tapping and scratching sounds became louder with each stride he took.

Finally the radio signal was so strong that Hunter knew Judy was within a hundred meters of him. Some quick zigzags in his route helped him focus on the source of the transmission. She was inside a very large building right in front of him. Almost an hour had passed since he had left the warehouse.

The building was constructed of stone and brick. Most of its windows were completely dark, but the light shone around the shades on the first floor. Since the city was blacked out for the night, the external lights were off.

Hunter assessed his internal energy level. The prolonged run in cold weather had lowered his reserves significantly, but he would be able to function normally for a while yet. He could not estimate how long, because the length of time would depend on his energy expenditure in rescuing Judy and the duration he spent in the cold. Certainly the First Law gave him no choice about attempting to help Judy immediately.

Before planning his actions, he considered the complex of First Law imperatives weighing on him. Most importantly, he could not interfere with the NKVD’s historical actions. He could not knowingly create any changes in the course of history. Of almost equal importance, he had to protect Judy from harm. As he had discussed with his team in the briefing before this mission, however, he now understood that the historical process would clearly accept some small level of involvement from him.

Three approaches seemed open to him. The first, direct confrontation, risked violence against Judy and precipitating a change of actions by the NKVD toward Ivana, so he discarded that. The second was stealth, but he worried that sneaking into the building would take too long, since the NKVD might act quickly against its two new prisoners. That left a simple bluff as the most direct and least violent course of action.

As Steve had sometimes reminded him, improvising could be very useful. Hunter prepared himself to try it as he walked up to the front entrance, assuming a casual, confident walk. The front door was locked, but he heard the metal pins rattle inside the knob. They sounded simple and primitive. In all likelihood, they would break easily.

He grasped the knob and forced it to turn. The insides of the lock snapped and ground as he broke them. However, a second lock held a metal bolt in place and he had no way to grab hold of it.

Hunter fingered the doorjamb. The wood was old and fairly solid, but it could be broken. Doing so would make noise and attract attention inside the building. He decided that he would have to take that risk.

Bracing himself with his legs, he crouched and positioned himself to spring forward. Then he slammed his entire weight against the door at the point where it would apply the most force against the bolt. The bolt tore through the wooden doorjamb with a splintering sound as the door opened.

Then he walked inside and calmly closed the door behind him.

5

AT THIS LATE hour, no one sat behind the front counter. The lobby was dark, though a light was on in a main hallway. A burly man in a plain gray business suit was bending over a coffee percolator on a small wooden table about halfway down the hall. He looked up in surprise and then walked forward, frowning.

“Who are you, comrade? This office is closed. What do you want here?”

At the sound of his voice, another door opened and two more men, dressed in similar suits, followed the first man toward Hunter.

“Where are the new prisoners?” Hunter demanded. “I must see them immediately.”

“Are you with the agency?” The first man spoke more cautiously. “We have not met. My name is —”

Hunter pushed past him. “Stop interfering! I shall have you all on report! Where are they?” The radio signal was very strong, telling him that Judy was in a room right down the hall in front of him.

“We must see your identification,” another man protested. “Please, comrade. We can all cooperate after procedures have been followed.”

Hunter glared into the man’s eyes, gambling that the system of intimidation in this society also operated within this agency itself. “I cannot be bothered right now with the whining of subordinates. If you will not show me the prisoners, I shall find them myself!”

He shoved this man, also, but the third reached up to grab his upper arm.

Instead of resisting, Hunter looked down at this man’s face, as well. “I hear the weather is very cold out at the front. Since you have so much energy, they could use you there. Or perhaps you would prefer an assignment to Vladivostok, where the Siberian wind will keep you safe from German tanks.”

Suddenly uncertain, the other man stepped back, glancing at his two companions, and released Hunter.

Carrying the bluff forward, Hunter strode past the third man and moved toward the room from which the radio signal came.

Earlier that night, Dr. Wayne Nystrom had landed with a thump on hard ground. He looked at his companion, the humaniform robot R. Ishihara. They seemed to have arrived in their new time and place safely.

“You okay, Ishihara?”

“Yes,” the robot said calmly.

Wayne surveyed the dry, frozen rolling plains around them. The sky was clear but the sun was red in the west, low over the horizon. “Well, it looks right so far. If I calculated correctly, we’re on the Russian steppe just to the rear of the German lines west of Moscow in December of 1941. It looks like the steppe in December, I think, but I don’t see anyone. Good for us that there’s no snow.”

“I hear the sounds of primitive machinery faintly in the distance,” said Ishihara. “To the east of us. I expect we have arrived where you intended.”

“What kind of machines?”

“Rough internal combustion engines, I believe. A few small vehicles. I hear nothing to suggest that large-scale movement or violence is occurring at this moment.”

“Good.” Wayne tugged his long fur cloak tighter around the knee-length tunic he wore. “The only trouble with coming directly here from Germany in A.D. 9 is that we’re still wearing these clothes.”

“We shall be warm, at least,” Ishihara observed. He was dressed similarly. “Unless we find shelter, that is very important.”

“Yeah. I’m sure we can get contemporary clothes from someone, somehow. I wonder what the Germans of this time will make of us when they see us.” Wayne grinned wryly. “They certainly won’t believe that we just arrived after visiting their distant ancestors.”

“No.” Ishihara looked at the weak sun, low in the sky to the west. “Night is falling. Even colder temperatures are imminent. I suggest we start walking.”

“All right. Where to?”

“Well, I have begun monitoring the German radio traffic. It is heavy, coming from the east of us in the same area as the machine sounds.”

“You can understand German?”

“Yes. And I remind you that we dare not speak English in front of them, since the British and Americans are enemies of the Germans. Do you speak any Russian or German?”

“No Russian,” said Wayne. “I studied German, but only to read technical research. I never spoke it much. What about you?”

“As a researcher at the Bohung Institute, I took all the necessary data for modern German and Russian a long time ago in order to read technical documents; also Japanese. So I shall be able to communicate here in those languages, though they will have evolved some in the forms I know.”

“I still have my radio pin, but for now I’ll let you handle this,” said Wayne. “In fact, I have an extra; I kept the one I took from Steve in Germany. Anyhow, just lead the way to the closest people you can find.”

Ishihara began to walk. Wayne fell into step with him. The open ground was uneven and hard and the wind whipped across them from the northwest. Nothing was visible across the barren, flat farmland.

“What is our long-range plan?” Ishihara asked. “Where do we expect to find that MC 4 has returned to his full size?”

“Well, I’m trying something a little different this time,” said Wayne. “Actually, from the information I was able to obtain from the console on the sphere, I expect his miniaturization will end in Moscow, behind the Soviet lines.”

“You do? Why did you bring us here, behind the German lines, then?”

“I’ve come after three of the component robots now, and every time, they have been adept at avoiding Hunter and his team when they first return to full size. He has been able to run them down eventually, but never right away.”

“Do you expect MC 4 to come here somehow?”

“Yes. I have been considering the effect of the First Law on MC 4 when he analyzes the situation he has entered here. With a war going on, he will want to stop the violence by interfering with the aggressor.”

“That would be the Germans, I believe.”

“Exactly,” said Wayne. “Since the German army has invaded Russian soil, I think he will come to the German lines to stop them if he can. If we’re waiting for him, that will give us a jump on Hunter’s team.”

“How extensive is your knowledge of history at this time?” Ishihara asked.

“Very limited. I remember which countries fought on which side. And I know the Germans mistreated the Jews in Europe. Nazi Germany and the Soviet Union were pretty unpleasant, I guess.”

“My data is not extensive, either,” said Ishihara. “I merely have some summaries of the war given as part of my general education. But your evaluation of German treatment of Jews is an understatement of great magnitude.”

“It is? Why, what —”

“Alert,” Ishihara interrupted, suddenly looking into the distance to the east.

“You hear something?”

“I have picked up a radio transmission between a patrol vehicle and its base. The vehicle is on routine patrol, but it is coming this way.”

“Have they seen us?”

“No, but they will soon, even in the waning light. I suggest that we devise a personal history we can give to them.”

By now, even Wayne could hear the loud, rough engine in the distance. A tiny speck of headlights was barely visible in the dusk. Wayne and Ishihara kept walking.

“We’d better make it quick,” said Wayne. “What do you suggest?”

“We must pretend to come from other countries. I have a Japanese name but not a Japanese appearance; I was merely named after a Japanese roboticist when I was created. Unlike Hunter, I do not have the ability to change my appearance. But maybe I can think of a way to trade on the German alliance with Japan somehow.”

“What do you mean?” Wayne was watching the German patrol. So far, they apparently had not seen the two travelers yet, since the patrol was moving obliquely to them.

“I am not certain yet. I only know that my German, coming from many years in the future, will not pass as native to this time, so I won’t try to fool anyone. However, your surname, ‘Nystrom,’ is Swedish. I see no reason to falsify it; your appearance matches that of your ancestors and Sweden was neutral in this war, though the other Scandinavian countries fought against Germany. We shall present you as Swedish.”

“All right.”

They walked in silence for a while. The headlights grew larger, bouncing over the hard soil. Finally the lights changed direction and began to move straight toward them.

“We have been seen,” said Ishihara. “The patrol has just reported to their base that they are going to interrogate two men on foot. Apparently they had just enough sunlight left to see our movement.”

Wayne grinned wryly. “I can hardly wait.”

The small spot in the distance grew quickly as it raced toward them. Soon Wayne could see that it was a vehicle designed with a cab in the front and a large, open back full of soldiers. In the poor light, their gray uniforms and helmets made them almost invisible. They held rifles warily and two of them were tending some larger weapon mounted on a swivel.

“Do you know what that’s called?” Wayne asked. “Their vehicle?”

“It might fit the term, ‘armored car,’ “said Ishihara. “My data lacks a diagram, however. That weapon on the front is a machine gun. The patrol is accustomed to violence. We must not risk angering them.”

“Let’s stop walking and wait.”

Ishihara suddenly loosened his belt and reached into his tunic. “I believe we may be searched.”

“We don’t have any weapons.”

“I suggest you give me the device that triggers the time travel sphere,” said Ishihara. “I have opened a panel in my abdomen. I believe I can slip the device inside my torso safely.”

“Well … okay.” Wayne gave it to him. “But it doesn’t look like a weapon. Why would they want it?”

“They will find it mysterious and might take it to study. Certainly we cannot afford to lose it.”

“No — no argument about that.”

The German patrol slowed carefully as it drew near. The soldiers looked over Wayne and Ishihara, their faces clearly puzzled by the long cloaks, tunics, and leggings. Some of them grinned as they muttered to each other.

One of the Germans spoke. Wayne could not understand him at all; certainly the archaic German he had learned for the previous mission was no help. Ishihara answered him politely, however. They spoke for a moment, then the German nodded. He gestured for two soldiers to jump down. They did so, their calf-length black boots thumping on the hard ground.

Ishihara leaned very close to Wayne and whispered in English. “They will frisk us. Cooperate with them. Their commander, a Korporal, has agreed to take us to German lines.”

“Does he believe you? About my being Swedish and — whatever else you told him?”

“He has accepted it tentatively, but he is suspicious. I told him that I lived in Japan and took the name of a friend. We must remain very careful.”

“Got it.” Wayne, at the gesture of the German soldiers, raised his arms high over his head. He did not move as one of them quickly patted his clothing up and down the length of his body. Another did the same to Ishihara. Then both soldiers stepped back and pointed to the back of the armored car.

The soldiers helped Wayne and Ishihara mount the back of the armored car. The car lurched forward suddenly, into a wide turn. As it rumbled over the frozen ground, the soldiers ducked down behind the steel sides of the car to avoid the sharp wind. Wayne and Ishihara crouched with them. Around them, the nearest soldiers tugged on their fur cloaks and spoke quietly among themselves.

Hunter strode down the hall with the three NKVD agents protesting and pleading, but no longer trying to grab him. He could see that they remained intimidated by his threats and selfassuredness. They were still arguing with him as he reached the door to the room from which the radio signal emanated.

Ignoring the arguments of the agents, Hunter tried the doorknob and found the door locked. He turned and glared at the nearest man. “Open this door, comrade. Now.”

“I have no key.” He backed away.

“I do not believe you. You all have keys.” Hunter turned to another man. “Open it. I insist.”

The second man folded his arms and shook his head. “We must follow procedure, comrade. Surely you would not argue with us about that.”

Hunter looked at the third man, who merely stared angrily back at him.

“Is that you, Hunter?” Judy’s voice whispered to him through his internal receiver. “It’s Judy — we’re in here!”

Hunter decided that he could not wrestle with all three agents to get a key, since he was hampered by the First Law requirement not to hurt them. Even with his greater strength, their sheer weight would stop him. On the other hand, he could not afford to leave Judy now.

A quick look into the crack between the door and the frame showed Hunter that this door did not have a bolt lock. He grasped the doorknob firmly, as he had done at the front door, and simply turned it slowly, with great force. Again, he heard the metal pins breaking. Then he shoved the door open and stepped inside the room.

Behind him, one agent gasped in surprise; another muttered to himself.

Hunter saw Judy rising from a chair on one side of a table. Gently, he took Ivana’s arm and drew her to her feet; she would not look up at him. He walked her back to the doorway, while the agents stared at him in astonishment. This time they backed away, making room for her.

When Hunter had moved Ivana out of the room, he closed the door behind her, though of course the broken latch would not catch. A quick glance around the room showed him that it had no other exits. He had no way even to pretend that they were escaping through a window, another door, or even a large vent.

Judy watched him uncertainly. Hunter had already decided to take the greatest risk of exposing new technology he had ever considered on these missions. Before the agents regained their composure and entered, he walked over to Judy and triggered his belt control, taking them back to their own time.

6

STEVE ANGRILY MARCHED down the hall away from Room F-12 in the Bohung Institute. He was mad at Jane for arguing with him. Even more, he was mad at himself for handling his resignation so poorly.

As he furiously replayed the conversation in his mind, he realized that he should have raised the subject earlier. Jane had a legitimate point about that. He could have shared his thoughts over breakfast, while he was still undecided.

At the same time, the episode reminded him that he really did not belong with educated, sophisticated company. Jane and Hunter would have handled themselves properly. So would all the historians who had joined them for one mission or another. He was better off up in his mountain shack.

Steve also pictured Jane in his mind. He had grown to like her a lot and, in Jamaica, he had felt they were growing closer. Then in Germany, they had not spent much time alone together. After all, those missions were serious, not a time to socialize. In any case, he still saw no reason that a woman with her education would be interested in a desert rat like himself. He was better off just going home.

Steve turned the last corner into the main lobby and headed for the front doors. Then running footsteps behind him got his attention. Puzzled, he stopped and turned around.

“Steve!” Hunter’s voice boomed from down the hall. When he came bounding around the corner, his long black overcoat flapping around him, he was recognizable, but much altered — shorter and broader than usual. “We need help.”

“Huh? Come on, Hunter. We already settled that. You don’t need me.”

“I have an emergency, Steve. We already left.” Hunter walked up to Steve, calmly now.

“You already left — and came back again?”

“Prematurely, I assure you. We have not even begun to locate MC 4.”

“What happened? You would never even consider coming back here like this in the middle of the other missions.”

“The First Law gave me no other choice. I had to bring Judy back here to escape the potential of extreme harm. Jane is in 1941 alone. Please help.”

“Well, you can rejoin Jane right after you left her, can’t you? You can take care of her.”

“I have considered this. The society we entered is more complex than that of the Roman frontier or the Jamaican buccaneers. The Stalin regime is very dangerous and unpredictable. Finding MC 4 near the front of a major war will be more difficult in the industrial age than in earlier times. I am desperate for your help.”

“You sure?” Steve looked at him skeptically.

“I even took another step out of desperation. In prior missions, I would not knowingly allow any local to see the team appear or vanish in time, because it might set up lines of thinking or behavior that have a significant effect on them. However, I had to escape with Judy from a confined room. NKVD agents saw us go in and will find us gone, even though the room has no exit except the one they are watching.”

“Really? That’s a big change for you.” Steve suddenly realized how serious this was. “You must have been desperate.”

“I have just taken two risks I would not have considered before. The irrationality and viciousness of the NKVD required me to take this lesser risk, rather than allow them the chance to torture Judy for information.”

“Yeah,” said Steve. “If they questioned her under torture, and she broke, they would learn that people were coming back from the future.”

“These were among my considerations, yes.”

“Well, I approve of your looser interpretation of chaos theory. But if any of you had changed history, it would be different right now, already.”

“It could be changed, right now, in ways that we have not noticed in the few seconds since I have returned. Judy and I must go back. Please join us.”

Steve sighed, but nodded. As much as he did not want to rejoin the team, he did like feeling needed. “I have one request, though, Hunter.”

“What is that?”

“Would you change your appearance back to normal, at least until this masquerade becomes necessary again? I can’t get used to this.”

“Oh, yes. Of course.”

Steve walked with him quickly back to Room F-12.

In the room, Judy was pacing anxiously. “Are we ready? Can we go right back?”

“One more moment,” said Hunter. He altered the shape of one forefinger slightly and plugged it into an electrical outlet. “I used an usually large amount of my stored energy during the night. Recharging from here will be very brief. Steve will come with us this time.”

“Ivana can’t survive the NKVD,” said Judy frantically. “We have to help her somehow. Let’s go right back.”

“No,” Hunter said firmly. “The NKVD took you because you happened to be with her. It was the result of our presence and I could justify taking you away again. However, the NKVD came for Ivana for reasons of their own. We did not precipitate her arrest in any way.”

“You mean you refuse to help her?” Judy’s eyes were wide with shock.

“I must. The First Law imperative to avoid changing history requires it.”

“Hunter,” she wailed. “Please. How can one elderly woman’s freedom change the course of history? How? Tell me that, will you?”

“The potential chain of events we could set in motion would be impossible to predict.”

“Maybe it won’t make any difference. If you can’t predict it, you can’t know.”

“The chance of harm to all the humans in the time line is too great to risk,” Hunter said patiently.

“All right. All right.” Judy took a deep breath. “Just indulge me for a moment, though.”

“How?”

“Give me an example of how saving Ivana might ruin history as we know it. She’s already old, Hunter. And she probably won’t survive long after this battle anyway, but her suffering could be eased.”

“Ivana alone is not the problem. We must also consider the NKVD agents with whom she is in contact. The agents are younger and may survive into the Cold War era at the end of World War II, less than four years from her time. Their actions and opinions may be influenced by what happens to her —”

“Specifically, Hunter? What could these agents do that would matter?”

“Perhaps these agents will be politically active when the Soviet Union comes to an end in the early 1990s,” said Hunter. “What if seeing the cruelty of their system to a helpless old woman in 1941 helped to change their opinion of the system they served? If we rescue Ivana somehow, maybe they will have one less doubt about their country.”

“That’s a very small change.”

“I hate to argue his side,” said Steve. “But in this case, I agree. These agents may have relatives who will remember family stories about this time, too, and be influenced.”

“Ivana has two sons in the Red Army,” Judy said slowly.

“They may die in the war or they may live into the Cold War years, too,” said Hunter. “What if the fate of their mother spurred them to participate in the later dismantling of the Soviet Union? If she is rescued, they might —”

“Might not turn against the system,” Judy finished for him. She sighed. “I get it. I guess I always did. I just wanted to hear you convince me.”

“I am already worried that vanishing with you out of the room the way we did may have disturbed the NKVD agents significantly,” said Hunter.

Judy nodded solemnly.

“Judy, did the agents photograph you?”

“Uh, no. They just put us in the room and made us wait Maybe they were working out what questions to ask or something.”

“You are still in danger of being recognized by the two agents who took you. We shall have to be especially careful to avoid them.”

“Yes, I see.”

“What’s my identity this time?” Steve asked. “I can’t be a slave, as I was in Roman times. But you still have to account for my not being Russian.”

“Judy, do you have a suggestion?” Hunter asked.

“You can be a Turk from Central Asia,” said Judy. “Or a Tatar, of old Mongol descent Both were in the Soviet Union at that time.”

“I took the sleep course for Russian, but not Mongol or any kind of Turkish,” said Steve.

“In Moscow, Russian will be sufficient,” said Judy. “Hunter, are we ready?”

“Yes. We shall go back to Moscow the following day, well after sunup, to look for Jane.”

“What if something happened to her during the night?” Steve asked.

“I want to avoid returning Judy during that same night,” said Hunter. “If something has happened to Jane, we shall return here and then go back earlier to find her if necessary. For now, we shall return after people have begun their daily routine, so that we can get lost in the crowd. Now that I have returned to my original appearance, the NKVD will not recognize me.” He turned to Judy. “Perhaps we should wait while you get some sleep. You will lose a night’s sleep with my plan.”

“I’m too upset to sleep now,” said Judy. “I want to go right back.”

“Let’s go,” said Steve.

Early the next morning, Jane woke alone in the corner after a nervous, fitful sleep. She got in line with her companions for breakfast and then returned to her corner to eat a thin, tasteless gruel. After returning her bowl and spoon, she queued up for the rest room.

Jane finally took her turn and moved into a stall. She flushed the toilet to cover her voice somewhat from her neighbors on each side. Then she switched on her lapel pin.

“Hunter? It’s Jane. Where are you?”

She waited for an answer as long as she dared. She repeated the message twice more, flushing each time to create more noise. Other people came and went. When she realized that Hunter could not or would not respond, she gave up and left the rest room. Now she was really alone.

Out in the main room again, she heard the rumbling of trucks outside. Everyone else gradually began moving toward the front door. She wanted to stay here, where Hunter could find her, but she did not dare risk attracting attention. To avoid that, she would have to stay with everyone else.

No one else spoke very much. Everyone plodded patiently out to one specific truck and climbed into the back, where picks and shovels were stored in barrels. For them, of course, this was an established routine.

Jane boarded also and soon found herself standing shoulder to shoulder with the other women out in the cold, clear winter morning. Their truck, part of a convoy, jerked and moved away. The convoy wound through the streets of Moscow, stopping at other large buildings that had been converted to emergency housing. When all the trucks were full, they snaked out along an unpaved highway to the west.

All the women in the work brigade were well bundled against the cold. Jane could not remember if Judy had told her how long they had been doing this. No snow lay on the ground right now, but Jane could tell by the way the truck bounced and rumbled on the unpaved road that the mud was frozen solid. At one point, she overheard a woman say that the temperature was about minus twenty centigrade.

Finally Jane saw the ditches appear in the distance. As the convoy turned to run parallel to them, heading for the ends still under construction, Jane looked down at them. She estimated that the nearest ditches were about eight meters wide and three or four meters deep.

When the truck creaked to a halt, Jane jumped to the ground with the others and accepted a shovel from someone. No one told her what to do, so she followed the other women. They walked down an earthen ramp into the middle of the ditch.

Some women stood in the center of the ditch, digging the deepest groove. They moved dirt to an intermediate ledge, where other women shoveled it up to the surface. There, a few more women began arranging the dirt into a ridge on each side of the ditch to make the ditch seem even deeper.

Relatively few men were in the brigade. The ones Jane could see were either too old for the military or else injured in some way. The men took picks to the undisturbed, frozen ground at each end of the ditch and began to break it loose.

Jane could see that the purpose of the brigade was to create a ditch big enough and steep enough that German tanks would go front — down into them so sharply that they could not roll forward to come up the other side. Jane picked out a spot a short distance from the other women and switched on her lapel pin. That way, at least, she would hear Hunter in the unlikely event that he called her, despite their agreement that he should not risk it. Right now, it was her best hope. Then she started to dig. If nothing else, the activity helped her keep warm.

Hunter chose to return at midday following the night he left. As before, he took his team to a spot outside the city to avoid being noticed on their arrival. They landed east of Moscow, on the opposite side of the city from the front. He hoped that would help them avoid army patrols from either side.

“You going to call Jane?” Steve asked. “I’m worried about her.”

“I do not dare, at least until taking the risk becomes justified,” said Hunter. “I am not receiving any sound from her, which means she has either turned off her lapel pin or else she is out of range. I calculate the chance of her being surrounded by other people to be extremely high. Jf her lapel pin is turned off or out of range, calling her will not matter. If it is turned on and within range, I would risk attracting attention.”

“Wait a minute,” said Steve. “She’s been through this long enough to know how it works. If it’s turned on, that means she figures it’s safe to hear from you.”

“At this time I will not take the risk,” said Hunter. “We must walk back to the warehouse and see if she is there.” He pointed toward the city.

“Look that way,” said Judy, pointing north as they began to walk.

Hunter saw a faint, dark line on the horizon, too vague to identify. “Do you know what that is?”

“The Sixteenth and Twentieth Soviet armies are encamped that direction,” said Judy. “They’ll be opening the counterattack soon, to drive the Germans back from Moscow. I think we’re looking at the very southern end of their line.”

“Can they help us in any way?” Hunter asked.

Judy shook her head emphatically. “No. The military has political commissars all through it.”

“They are as unpredictable as the NKVD?”

“Well … let’s just say that the potential exists all through the Soviet system. We should avoid all the authorities as much as possible.”

7

WAYNE SAT HUDDLED with Ishihara alone in a small two-man tent. The night before, the patrol had taken them to a Leutnant Johann Mohr. Leutnant Mohr had communicated with them in rather limited English. Then he had tried to contact his Hauptmann, who put him off until this morning; Ishihara explained that the Hauptmann was the German equivalent of captain. So Wayne and’ Ishihara had been put into this tent for the night, under guard.

To keep his guests away from the soldiers, Leutnant Mohr had ordered one of his men to bring their breakfast to the tent, maintaining their isolation. Wayne was finishing his bowl of hot gruel. Ishihara had already put his aside. For now, they were simply left to wait. Wayne felt certain that Leutnant Mohr was afraid to take responsibility for making any decision regarding them.

“We’ll have to continue faking our way with some kind of background story,” said Wayne quietly. “Will this be acceptable to you under the Laws of Robotics?”

“Yes,” said Ishihara. “The First Law requires that I keep you safe as I aid your mission. To do so, we must convince our hosts that we belong.”

Finally the flap of the tent was drawn back and Leutnant Mohr leaned down to look inside. He was a tall, slender young man with blondish brown hair. His stained gray uniform was torn in several places but had been brushed free of surface dirt. “Hauptmann Eber will see you now,” he said in heavily accented English. “Come now.”

Wayne crawled out of the tent and wrapped his cloak tightly around him again. As he and Ishihara followed Leutnant Mohr, the soldiers who had been guarding them fell into step around them. Leutnant Mohr had been courteous to Wayne and Ishihara, in case they were telling the truth, but he had taken no chances, either.

As they walked among the rows of tents, Wayne could see that the German army around him was in poor shape. Supplies and equipment were stacked on farm and peasant carts pulled by little horses with fuzzy winter coats. These vehicles, in fact, were smaller and more poorly maintained than the wagons in the Roman baggage train back in A.D. 9.

The soldiers around them had not shaved, mended their clothes or boots, or washed with soap. Many were obviously very ill, coughing and wheezing in the cold air. A large number also had dirty bandages on wounds that had apparently not been sufficiently serious to warrant sending them to the rear. Suddenly Wayne realized that Leutnant Mohr and his men had no winter coats or boots. He turned to look around at the other soldiers in the camp, and saw no sign of winter clothing anywhere.

Leutnant Mohr brought them to an officer standing over a metal barrel, in which a small fire burned. He was a burly man with a full face and several days’ growth of brown beard. His face was taut against the cold wind.

Leutnant Mohr saluted and spoke to his Hauptmann in German, then turned to Wayne and Ishihara. “Hauptmann Uwe Eber.”

Hauptmann Eber spoke to Wayne in German, staring at Wayne grimly. Leutnant Mohr translated into English.

“You are Swedish? Why are you speaking English?” Hauptmann Eber frowned.

“Ishihara and I have only English as a common language,” said Wayne. “And Ishihara can speak German with Leutnant Mohr, but I can’t. Leutnant Mohr and I also share English.”

Hauptmann Eber nodded, listening to the translation. “Why would a Swede be here on the Russian front?”

“I am Swedish, but partial to your cause. My friend and I are working with Swedish intelligence.”

“Are you?” Hauptmann Eber turned his icy gaze on Ishihara. “Leutnant Mohr says you are Japanese? You are clearly not Japanese. What is this nonsense?”

“I am not Japanese,” said Ishihara. “I lived in Japan for many years and took the name of my host family out of respect for them. This is why I have a Japanese name and also why my German and my knowledge of Europe are flawed.”

“What is your purpose here?”

“We have come to the front in order to locate a Russian spy who may have infiltrated the German front,” said Ishihara, in a confident, businesslike tone.

For the first time, Hauptmann Eber’s face registered concern. His eyes widened momentarily, then he studied Ishihara’s face. Without looking away, he spoke sharply to Leutnant Mohr, who saluted, turned, and hurried off alone.

Hauptmann Eber did not speak. He looked around the camp and patiently warmed his hands over the little fire. The soldiers in Leutnant Mohr’s escort edged closer to the fire, eyeing the captain warily.

“He has sent Leutnant Mohr to find his own superior,” Ishihara said quietly in English to Wayne. “A Major Bach.”

Wayne nodded. “He’s just like Mohr. Nobody wants to take any responsibility for us. They keep going up the line of command.”

“This system works on fear,” said Ishihara. “The punishment for making mistakes is severe. It helps to focus authority at the top, where this government wants power to gather.”

In a few minutes, Leutnant Mohr came trotting back. He stopped and saluted. He and Hauptmann Eber exchanged a few quick words in German. Then Leutnant Mohr switched to English again.

“Major Bach has suggested that we all meet in Oberst Schepke’s command tent.”

Ishihara nodded politely. “Ja.”

“Just as you were saying,” said Wayne, with a slight grin, as they turned and began to walk. “Which rank are we going to see now?”

“Oberst is the equivalent of colonel,” said Ishihara.

In the command tent, Wayne stood patiently as all the German officers reported in German to their Oberst. Major Bach was a short, burly man with dark hair. Oberst Schepke, a scowling, gaunt, hawk-nosed man, stood formally behind a battered wooden table, listening and asking questions. Then he used Leutnant Mohr as an interpreter to speak to his visitors.

“The Oberst has ordered me to use English so that both of you can understand,” said Leutnant Mohr, turning to face Wayne and Ishihara. “He requires your credentials.”

Wayne felt a surge of panic. He could not think of anything to say. Worried, he glanced at Ishihara.

“You misunderstand,” Ishihara said, with a formality and stiffness that matched those of the Oberst. “We are undercover, traveling across the national boundaries of many nations. Certainly we could not operate effectively against the Russian spy we seek if we carried documents that would expose our true mission.”

“Then present whatever travel documents you have. You must have passports of some sort.”

“They were taken from us and not returned,” said Ishihara smoothly.

“By whom?”

“By petty bureaucrats in Switzerland.”

Wayne was impressed. Ishihara was demonstrating a deft ability to improvise. Wayne assumed he was drawing on his limited history of this time.

“I must have some way to verify your identity,” Leutnant Mohr said for Oberst Schepke.

“Field Marshal Mannstein will speak for us,” said Ishihara coolly.

Wayne had never heard of him.

“Mannstein,” repeated the Oberst, showing some surprise as he recognized the name without translation. Then he spoke to Leutnant Mohr in German again.

“Contacting Mannstein from here will take some time. He is still on the Finnish border, moving on Leningrad,” Leutnant Mohr translated.

Wayne suppressed a smile. That was probably why Ishihara had picked that particular individual as a reference. Also, of course, Finland was next to Sweden, where Wayne had supposedly originated. That might help convince Oberst Schepke that Mannstein was a legitimate reference.

“We do not have time to waste,” said Ishihara, maintaining his calm, reserved delivery.” The spy we seek came this way. He is probably among us now, observing conditions and positions on our front. Soon, however, he will head for the Soviet lines to report what he has found.”

“How much do you know about him? Do you know his appearance and what name he is using?”

“We know exactly what he looks like. We don’t know what he is calling himself.”

“You have a photograph? Give it to me.”

“Our photograph has been lost on our travels. We have journeyed far, and quickly, to get here.”

“Then describe him.”

Ishihara described the short, slender component robot, who was physically identical to the other five who comprised MC Governor in combination with him.

Oberst Schepke was silent, looking at Ishihara and Wayne thoughtfully. Then he spoke again, nodding at their clothing. Leutnant Mohr continued to translate.

“Why are you dressed this way?”

“We have had to travel alone, with little money and no support, through much of Europe. In the wild mountains of Carpathia, our normal traveling clothes were reduced to rags. We accepted these clothes from Slavic peasants in a remote mountain village, where civilization has barely reached.”

“Yes. I have seen such places. We have no clothes to spare here, either.”

Ishihara nodded his acknowledgment. “Oberst, may we get on with our task? This spy must not be allowed to report your positions to the enemy.”

Oberst Schepke studied Ishihara for a long moment without speaking. Wayne could see that he was torn between the fear of a spy in his camp and the fact that his visitors had no proof to back up their story. The Oberst, too, had to fear the reprisals of his own superiors if he made a mistake — regarding either possibility. Then he spoke again, briefly.

“Leutnant Mohr — that is, I — will escort you about the lines within the area under my command,” Leutnant Mohr translated. “If your quest leads you into the command of another Oberst, you must return to me for an introduction.”

“Thank you, Oberst,” said Ishihara.

Oberst Schepke nodded sharply and barked an order. All the soldiers snapped to attention, angled their right arms up, palms forward, and spoke in unison: “Heil Hitler.”

The soldiers did an about-face and marched out, but Oberst Schepke eyed Wayne and Ishihara suspiciously.

Suddenly Ishihara imitated the salute. Following his lead, so did Wayne. “Heil Hitler.”

Ishihara followed the soldiers out and Wayne stayed close to him. Outside the tent, Wayne let out a long sigh and relaxed for the first time since they had walked in. Most of the soldiers dispersed, but Leutnant Mohr remained.

“You were slow with the salute, my friends,” said Leutnant Mohr, looking pointedly at both of them.

“I fear, Leutnant, that we are out of practice,” said Ishihara. “As intelligence officers in neutral countries, and sometimes behind enemy lines, we must be careful not to speak too quickly.”

Leutnant Mohr shrugged uncomfortably. “Where shall we begin? Do you have a particular place?”

“No,” said Ishihara. “Let us start simply by walking through the lines, asking questions of the soldiers. As we go, I shall describe our quarry to you. Perhaps he can be found among refugees or POWs.”

“Very well.”

As they began to explore the lines, Wayne surmised how Oberst Schepke had made his decision. Finding the spy was too important to ignore. Since only his visitors could identify him, they had to be given some chance to do so.

At the same time, he could not allow the strangers to wander around his camp unsupervised. Wayne also suspected that the Oberst had decided not to assign a higher ranking officer for this, for fear he would be embarrassed later if their story was not true. Yet he could not trust an enlisted man with this task. For that reason, as well as his ability to speak English, Leutnant Mohr had received the chore.

8

HUNTER KNEW THAT the walk back into Moscow was a long one for his human companions. Even he was using more energy than the weak winter sun could restore on the microscopic solar power cells in his skin. The activity helped keep the humans warm, but they needed a rest by the time they reached the edge of the city.

He did not see a place nearby where they could get warm. They settled for a bench on a sidewalk. A few other Muscovites walked past them.

“We should be able to find a bus line, I think,” said Judy. “I think some of them are still running.”

“Excellent,” said Hunter.

“Hunter,” said Steve. “Where are you going to look for MC 4, anyhow?”

“Not too far from here,” said Hunter. “My calculation of where MC 4 will likely return to his full size is out in a certain neighborhood that I will show you. He should return within a range of a couple of blocks.”

“After we find Jane, then, are we just going to stake out the area?”

“That will be a good beginning, of course,” said Hunter. “However, he may have already returned, or he may simply slip past us as the other component robots have on earlier missions. If we lose him that way, our search will be even more difficult than before.”

“Why?” Judy asked.

“He has more places to hide,” said Hunter. “In the middle of this large city, he can find shelter and company fairly quickly and can get lost in the crowds.”

“He won’t have a job or a place to live,” said Steve. “And when he first shows up, he won’t even have any clothes. That will make him stand out in a crowd.”

Judy laughed.

“Clothes can be found in a city,” said Hunter. “Further, with so many displaced people, I believe that fewer questions are being routinely asked of strangers than usual.”

“That’s right,” said Judy.

“Yeah, I see,” said Steve. “In the dinosaur age, all we had to do was find MC 1‘s footprints or broken twigs to pick up his trail. And even in Port Royal, Jamaica, and on the Roman frontier, a single stranger was pretty obvious to everybody. This is a much more sophisticated urban area, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” said Judy emphatically. “And, remember, the government is very dangerous. Don’t underestimate them.”

“Got it,” said Steve. “Hunter, I’m starting to get cold, just sitting here.”

“Judy, are you rested enough to continue?” Hunter asked.

“Might as well get it over with.”

“We shall look at the area where I expect MC 4 to appear on our way back to the warehouse,” said Hunter, rising.

“Let’s look for a major thoroughfare,” said Judy. “The city has reduced bus service, but the biggest streets will have what’s left.”

As they began to walk again, Judy looked up and down the blocks and suggested directions. Soon they were in a queue at a bus stop behind seven Muscovites. When the bus to the center of the city arrived, it was a very old, creaking vehicle puffing black smoke out of its exhaust pipe. As Hunter led his team into the bus, he imitated the woman in front of him, paying the team’s way with coins. The bus was only half-full, so they found seats in the rear, away from other people.

Hunter sat without speaking, looking out the windows. When he saw that the bus had reached the area where he had estimated MC 4 would appear, he stood up and pulled the horizontal cord running across the wall of the bus over the windows. A little bell rang by the driver, who pulled over at the next bus stop.

Hunter gestured for Judy and Steve to leave the rear door first. When they were safely on the sidewalk again, he followed them. The bus creaked and rumbled away, blowing black smoke over them into the chilly air.

“Doesn’t look like much, does it?” Judy looked up and down the street.

“What kind of buildings are these?” Hunter asked, surveying the architecture.

“These are all residential apartment buildings. Most of them are empty in the daytime.”

“Where is everybody?” Steve asked.

“Oh, you missed my explanation before, didn’t you?” Judy turned to him. “Men who can serve in the military left a long time ago and lots of people have fled to avoid the advancing Germans. I think that’s where many of the children went; families got them out of town. The remainder are working overtime to keep the city functioning or to prepare defenses.”

“That means MC 4 could appear here and duck into a fairly empty building, doesn’t it?” Steve looked up at the rows of windows in the building above them.

“Yes,” said Hunter. “He can also find clothing, if he locates something he judges the owner can lose without harm.”

“We can’t knock on every door,” said Steve. “What do you want to do?”

“I do not have a plan yet,” said Hunter. “I fear that finding him here will be difficult. We shall not be able to watch this area constantly without attracting the notice of the authorities.”

“That’s right,” said Judy.

“I want to find Jane,” said Steve. “Then we can concentrate on MC 4.”

Hunter magnified his hearing to the maximum, listening for footsteps suggesting the weight of MC 4, or his voice speaking English. He turned slowly in different directions, but heard no signs of the component robot. This failure meant very little, however, considering the density and size of the buildings. MC 4 could be quite close, or could still be microscopic, or might have already left the area at full size.

“I agree, Steve,” said Hunter. “We shall remain here at this bus stop and find a bus going toward the warehouse to look for Jane.”

“Is the NKVD looking for you two?” Steve asked. “You think they’ll go back to the warehouse?”

“It is possible,” said Hunter. “Since I have changed my appearance back to normal, they will not recognize me. However, they did see Judy clearly.”

“We’d better sleep somewhere else tonight,” said Steve, looking up the street. “How much time is there between buses, anyway, Judy?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know. That’s too much detail for the history I studied.”

Hunter looked at her. “Once we get there, Judy will have to hide in the crowd in case the NKVD returns. We shall leave as soon as we have Jane with us again. Please be very careful and very aware of people noticing you.”

“Count on it,” said Judy, smiling wryly. “I’ve seen enough of them already. I’ll be careful.”

By the time the sun was low on the flat western horizon, Jane was already exhausted. For the last couple of hours, she had shoveled slowly, with very little dirt on the blade of her shovel. As long as she continued moving, however, no one else in the work brigade seemed to care.

She had not been able to get enough privacy to call Hunter. Except in the outhouse, which had no water to flush, she had not been alone all day. She had not dared use her lapel pin for fear of being overheard by the people waiting in line outside.

During the course of the day, the ditch had grown. Since Judy had told the team that the Battle of Moscow would involve the Soviet armies counterattacking the Germans, Jane knew that the ditch she was digging was probably not important. She knew she was not altering history by participating.

Finally she heard the rumble of trucks. Everyone looked up to see the welcome sight. She fell into line with the others, climbing out of the ditch and queuing for the ride back to the warehouse.

In the back of the truck as it jerked and drove away, Jane leaned against the side and slid down to a sitting position. She had not been this tired in a long time. As a roboticist, she was simply not used to an entire day of the kind of physical labor that robots would do in her time. The cold had taken a toll on her, as well; the daytime temperature here had been much colder than even the mountains of central Germany on their previous mission.

Even when the truck finally stopped, she did not stand right away. She waited while the back was opened and the rest of the work brigade began to climb out. Finally she stood up, stiff with the cold, and followed them out of the truck.

Jane joined the crowd moving toward the door of the warehouse. Then she glanced up and saw Hunter just inside the door, towering over the others. A wave of relief swept over her, but she knew better than to call out. To those around her, she had to look as resigned as they were about this difficult routine. As before, two burly men stood by the door, watching as everyone entered. When she finally got inside, she could see Judy and Steve for the first time.

“Good evening,” Steve said in Russian, grinning. “You okay?”

“Worn out,” said Jane. “How did you get here? Hunter, where have you been all this time?”

“We can confer in a moment,” said Hunter. “Now we must leave the warehouse.”

“All right.” Jane accepted his judgment. “I’m ready.”

Hunter, moving against the current of people still plodding into the warehouse, slipped around the edge of the doorway. Steve waited for Jane and Judy to file after him, so Jane pushed her way after Hunter.

“Where are you going, comrade?” One of the guards put his hand against Hunter’s chest.

“We must find some friends,” said Hunter. “Please excuse us.” He started to moved around the man, but the guard shifted with him, still blocking the way.

“It is dark, comrade, and cold. Come inside for the night.” He gestured back toward the doorway.

“This is very important,” said Hunter.

“Then you must explain it to me.”

Hunter hesitated, then glanced over his shoulder at his team. Then he moved back inside. Hunter led the team back to the familiar corner in the rear of the warehouse. Jane and Steve exchanged puzzled glances but did not argue.

“What’s wrong, Hunter?” Jane spoke quietly, seeing that no strangers were close to them. “We have to get out of here.”

“The NKVD knows what Judy looks like now and may return here for her,” said Hunter. “We cannot risk remaining here.”

“Exactly,” said Steve. “We could have rushed out of here. You could have pushed past that guy.”

“I do not want to force our way out past the guards, either,” said Hunter. “That would be disruptive and would attract even more attention to us.”

“You aren’t just going to sit here and wait for the NKVD,” said Steve. “So what are we going to do?”

“For now, please prepare to sleep,” said Hunter. “I shall consider the options that we shall have after the lights are out.”

Wayne let Ishihara do most of the work in their day’s search. He knew that Ishihara could turn up the sensitivity of his sight and hearing to find MC 4 and nothing Wayne could do was the equal of that. So he spent most of his time just holding his cloak as tight as he could.

Leutnant Mohr rarely spoke as he dutifully led his guests through the tents and up and down the lines. Wayne became sure that the Nazi command had ordered Leutnant Mohr to be very careful with them. If they proved legitimate, then Oberst Schepke wanted to be able to prove later that he had cooperated with them fully. At the same time, he wanted to distance himself from the strangers in case they were phony. As a result, Leutnant Mohr did not spend much time talking to soldiers or letting them see inside tents. He gave them a perfunctory tour of the grounds that did not accomplish very much.

At one point late in the day, Ishihara stopped and looked east. Wayne saw only open, frozen ground. He waited to see what Ishihara would do.

“Lieutenant,” said Ishihara, in English.

“Yes?”

“How far is the actual front line?”

“This encampment is roughly a half kilometer from the front,” said Leutnant Mohr, squinting into the distance himself. “We are in Panzer Group 3, a mere twenty kilometers or so from Moscow itself.”

“Straight east of here?” Ishihara asked.

“So we are told.”

“How long since anybody moved?” Wayne asked.

“Excuse me?” Leutnant Mohr stiffened.

“How long have you held this position, without advancing?” Wayne turned to look at him pointedly.

“We are searching for a spy, not discussing military matters.” Leutnant Mohr fidgeted uncomfortably.

“Lieutenant.” Wayne used his most authoritative tone of voice and tried to think like one of the German military men. “I want to know if that spy is gaining information of value — how fresh it is, or how old. It bears directly on our purpose. Now answer my question.”

“Well — the front moved slowly during the fall. The camp doesn’t move as often, of course. We advance the camp after the front is secure.”

Wayne looked around again. He could see the German tanks lined up in rows, sitting cold, with looked to him as if it was freezing in place.

“Have you received any orders about advancing?” Ishihara asked.

“We have been told we will spend the winter in Moscow,” Leutnant Mohr said cautiously. His young face looked unsure as he glanced toward the empty horizon again.

Wayne caught Ishihara’s glance and understood the point behind his question. They had come here because Wayne had expected MC 4 to attempt stopping the German advance. Wayne considered it a likely imperative under the First Law. However, if the German offensive had already stalled, then MC 4 had no need to influence them.

MC 4 might not be here at all.

9

LATE IN THE afternoon, Wayne decided to let Leutnant Mohr off the hook for a while and requested that he and Ishihara take a rest. Leutnant Mohr left them in his own tent, with a firm suggestion that they remain there while he tended to his other duties. Wayne saw that he posted a couple of guards outside the tent as he left.

Wayne moved close to Ishihara and spoke quietly.

“We aren’t accomplishing much here.”

“I agree,” said Ishihara.

“Do you have any ideas?”

“I have some information.”

“You do?”

“Yes. I have been monitoring the German radio communications continuously.”

“What did you find out?”

“From the communications among middle-rank and senior officers coordinating their daily routines, I have learned that Panzer Group 3 is in fact blocked on its way to Moscow by the Soviet Red Army.”

“Didn’t we already assume that? Or is it a military secret or something?”

“It is not a secret,” said Ishihara. “The German officers have referred to it repeatedly. However, until now, I surmised that perhaps the German army had stopped from exhaustion.”

Wayne shrugged. “Did you learn anything else?”

“Yes. I overheard a couple of officers in effect saying that General Alfried Jodi has forbidden the collection and disbursement of winter clothing to German soldiers.” Ishihara looked at Wayne carefully. “This information puzzles me. It also disturbs me under the First Law.”

“That sounds weird to me, too. Why would he do that? Do you know?”

“According to the officers whom I overheard, this general fears that providing winter clothing to their soldiers would cast doubt on his guarantee that they will take Moscow before the onset of winter and spend the season safely in the city.”

“You mean he’s leaving them in the cold so they’ll be more confident of taking Moscow soon?”

“That seems to be their belief, yes.”

“That’s why they’re all freezing? Not because the German command can’t get the winter clothes — because they refuse to?”

“Yes. That is a critical reason that the German soldiers are suffering so much from the weather.”

Wayne nodded slowly. “Did you overhear anything else important?”

“No.” Ishihara lowered his voice even more. “I cannot stop thinking about the harm being done to all these men. They should all simply go home. Then no more war would take place on this front.”

“Even if they did, the Russians would chase them, wouldn’t they? And keep fighting.”

“Yes, that is what happened. As I access what limited history I have, I see also that the Nazi government is very cruel and oppressive, and that this mind-set has influenced many soldiers. The leadership is very destructive and survives on terror.”

“Not every soldier can be like that,” said Wayne. “Most of them must be ordinary people.”

“These individuals are emotionally broken past the point of taking their own initiative. The higher ranks keep their lives and positions by cooperating — following orders, no matter what they are. So do their subordinates.”

“What are we going to do?”

“I do not have precise details about this particular site in the war,” said Ishihara. “However, from the condition of the German army, I believe that the military initiative lies with the Soviet army.”

“Then you think we should go to the other side to look for MC 4?”

“Quite possibly. If he reaches the same conclusion, then he might try to stop the battle by interfering with the Soviet side in some way.”

“Okay,” said Wayne thoughtfully. “But how do we get across the front to the other side — without both sides shooting at us?”

“I propose that we continue our charade,” said Ishihara. “As agents in pursuit of an enemy spy.”

“How so?”

“We could offer to infiltrate the enemy. If we suggest, for instance, that MC 4 has already returned to the enemy to brief them on the information he has gathered, then it would be natural for us to follow him.”

“I see. Maybe the Germans would help us get across, at least part of the way.”

“We must be careful in presenting this idea to our hosts,” said Ishihara.

“Yeah, you’re right about that,” said Wayne. “These Nazis are still suspicious of us.”

“We cannot allow them to doubt us any more than they do already.”

“How do you want to handle this?”

“I suggest we drop hints,” said Ishihara. “Our best opportunity may lie in inducing our hosts to make this suggestion.”

“All right,” said Wayne. “Let’s get our story straight before Mohr comes back.”

“We are too late,” said Ishihara. “I hear his footsteps coming now.”

Before Wayne could reply, he heard the footsteps too. Leutnant Mohr threw back the flap of the tent. Cold wind blew inside as he stooped to enter.

“It never gets any warmer,” said Leutnant Mohr.

“That’s true,” said Wayne. “But we’ve been talking about our mission.”

Leutnant Mohr sat down, wrapping his arms around himself. “It is good to get out of the wind.”

Wayne nodded. He felt that Leutnant Mohr seemed uncomfortable with the informality. For a moment, no one spoke.

“Our spy may already have left the area,” said Ishihara, in a calm, unconcerned tone.

“Yes?” Leutnant Mohr fumbled ostentatiously at his shirt pockets for a moment, then sighed. “Do either of you have a cigarette, by any chance?”

“A what?” Wayne asked.

“We do not,” said Ishihara quickly. “I apologize. We have often been deprived during our travels.”

Leutnant Mohr nodded.

“Cigarettes are very harmful,” Ishihara added.

“So’s the Red Army.” Leutnant Mohr grinned crookedly.

“We do not know how far ahead of us the enemy spy may be,” said Ishihara.

“We think we’re pretty close behind him,” Wayne added, hoping to help Ishihara.

Leutnant Mohr nodded noncommittally. “Your fur cloaks look primitive, but I suppose they are warm.”

“Yes, that is true,” said Ishihara. “Your uniform is not really heavy enough for this Russian climate, is it? You must be very cold.”

“It is nothing.” Leutnant Mohr stiffened suddenly, shrugging. “We shall be in Moscow soon.”

“Not if our quarry has reached it already,” said Wayne, in what he hoped was as casual a tone as Ishihara was using. “That’s what we’ve been talking about.”

“Yes?” Leutnant Mohr glanced at him, more interested.

“He may have already learned enough about German positions to brief his masters.”

“So soon?”

“This is possible,” said Ishihara. “With the German army stationary now, the Soviet Army would gain information that will remain reliable until we move again.”

“You mean you’re too late?” Leutnant Mohr’s eyes were wide. “The Russians already know our positions?”

“Not necessarily,” said Wayne. “We may be very close behind him.”

“We believe we can stop him,” said Ishihara.

“What do you think?” Wayne looked directly into the Leutnant’s blue eyes.

“You must catch him at all costs.”

Wayne decided that Mohr was not going to take the bait directly. “We may need to chase him across the front into the city. Can you help?”

Leutnant Mohr’s back straightened. His voice became formal and cautious. “I must return you to Hauptmann Eber for that sort of question.”

“Can we cut short the process a little this time?” Wayne asked. “Instead of going to Hauptmann Eber and then the Major and then Oberst Schepke — can we just go talk to the Oberst right away?”

Leutnant Mohr shook his head tightly. “No! It is not done. I must report to my immediate superior.”

“All right.” Wayne sighed. “We certainly don’t want to get you into trouble. Take us to your Hauptmann, please.”

Leutnant Mohr nodded and led them out of the tent.

In the early evening wind, Wayne wrapped his cloak more tightly around him. The pale sun went down as he and Ishihara followed the Leutnant through the camp. As before, Hauptmann Eber took them to Major Bach, who was squatting outside his tent, warming himself over a small fire in the gathering gloom.

Hauptmann Eber spoke briefly to the Major in German. Instead of insisting immediately that they confer with Oberst Schepke, however, Major Bach listened to their argument in full. He did not bother to stand. As before, Leutnant Mohr acted as interpreter.

“I don’t know, Hauptmann,” said Major Bach slowly. The firelight played off his face, making him look mysterious in the shadows. “What do you think? If this spy has already left, then it’s too late to catch him. He will be debriefed as soon as he arrives, will he not?”

“Most likely, sir.”

“He is on foot,” said Ishihara.

“Oh? And how do you know?” Major Bach asked, turning to slightly to face him.

“As far as we know, that is the case,” said Ishihara politely. “Since he must avoid notice from our sentries, he has to be very careful in leaving the camp and maneuvering around German military lines.”

“What of it?” Major Bach spoke in a tone of complete indifference.

“He must also worry about approaching Soviet lines, to avoid being shot coming across the front.”

“He will have some sort of contact or credentials, or some identifying information.” Hauptmann Eber, apparently sensing the Major’s skeptical tone, folded his arms and glared at Ishihara. “More than you have, I might add.”

“If he is shot before he arrives, that will not matter,” said Ishihara. “He must find a way to make contact with someone on the other side before they open fire. All of this means that he must move slowly — not to mention that he has roughly twenty kilometers of open ground between the two armies to cross somehow.”

“You think he is going to walk twenty kilometers to Moscow?”

“The German infantry has walked much farther than that already.”

Major Bach nodded. “I presume you wish help in pursuing him, not just permission to leave us.”

“We feel it is worth the risk,” said Ishihara. “If he left this camp today, for instance, then we may still be able to catch him before he locates his superiors, whether or not he reaches Moscow ahead of us. Even a small amount of help would make a difference.”

Major Bach gazed quietly into the fire without speaking. Following his lead, Hauptmann Eber did the same. Leutnant Mohr watched them both, his eyes shifting between them nervously.

Wayne waited, expecting that the Major would finally abdicate responsibility after all, and take them back to Oberst Schepke.

Finally Major Bach spoke briefly over his shoulder to an aide, who hurried into a tent. Then he spoke to Wayne and Ishihara again. “I will write you a pass to leave the camp. It can be countermanded by someone of higher rank, of course, but I trust you will not trouble anyone of that sort.” He eyed them both pointedly.

“Of course,” said Wayne.

“Thank you, Major,” said Ishihara.

“You will be on your own, however. I cannot spare men or supplies to help you.”

Wayne said nothing. Crossing the front to Moscow was going to be difficult without a vehicle. He had hoped the Major would offer them some help. Since Ishihara was not debating the point, Wayne decided to keep quiet, too.

The aide brought a pen and a slip of paper to the Major. Wayne realized that Major Bach was making a decision similar to the one Oberst Schepke had made about them earlier. The Major wanted to appear cooperative, in case they were legitimate, but he did not want to give them any real help, in case they were not.

Further, Major Bach did not want to trouble his own superior about them again. After all, Oberst Schepke had accepted their story, however cautiously. Now Major Bach had apparently decided that getting rid of them in this way fell within the scope of his own authority. Once Wayne and Ishihara were gone, these officers could forget about them and focus on military matters again. Maybe most important of all in this suffering army, they would not have to feed and shelter these two noncombatants.

Major Bach handed the pass to his aide, who in turn gave it to Ishihara.

“Thank you, Major,” said Ishihara. “Surely you won’t mind if Leutnant Mohr drives us to the edge of camp.”

Major Bach stood up for the first time, his face suddenly impatient.

“We will remember your cooperation,” Wayne said quickly but calmly.

The Major hesitated, studying his face again. Then his shoulders sagged. “Of course. Leutnant Mohr?” He gestured wearily and then squatted close to the fire again.

10

JANE HUDDLED IN the corner of the warehouse. Gradually, other people around them stretched out to sleep for the night. Soon the overhead lights were turned out, leaving only one lamp burning at a table in the front and a single bare bulb over the rest room door. The two guards talked with a couple of women at the front table. The rear of the warehouse was almost completely dark.

“We must leave before the NKVD agents return here seeking Judy or someone who could tell them where to find her,” said Hunter quietly. “The rear door is in almost complete darkness.”

“It’s quiet in here,” said Steve. “As soon as we get up and start moving, those guys in the front will hear us. Especially if the door creaks.”

“Yes,” said Hunter. “I have been looking for a diversion we can create.”

“Do you see something, Hunter?” Jane asked, looking around the shadowed warehouse herself.

“I believe so,” said Hunter. “The electrical wiring here is primitive, with the insulated cords along the base of the wall fully exposed. A small door in the wall by the rest room almost certainly houses fuses and circuit breakers.”

“What do you have in mind?” Judy asked.

“The circuit breakers can be triggered without any long-term harm to the system or to the safety of the humans here,” said Hunter. “If one of us moves the switches, then the light in front will go out.”

“Sounds good to me,” said Steve. “That should create just enough surprise and confusion for us to slip out the back door. Is that what you want to do?”

“Yes, but we must plan this carefully, since that light bulb will illuminate anyone near the circuit breaker. One of us can go use the rest room without causing undue concern. However, I prefer that I not be the one. I should be near the door in case it must be forced open.”

“I’ll go,” said Judy, glancing around the warehouse. “Steve might attract attention, since he doesn’t resemble the Slavic Russians.”

“I’ll go with you,” said Jane. “If we have to improvise, two will be better than one.”

“Okay.”

“You cannot take your overcoats without being noticed,” said Hunter. “I shall carry them and give them to you when we are safely outside.”

“I’ll take the duffel bag,” said Steve.

“All right,” said Judy. She got up and began to pick her way directly across the warehouse to the rest room.

Jane stood up and slowly followed Judy. Her heart was pounding with tension, but she moved slowly and casually. They worked their way among the sleeping Russians, careful not to disturb any of them.

When they reached the rest room, Judy turned the knob. Jane saw it move in her hand, but Judy pretended it was locked, shrugging theatrically. They stood patiently, pretending to line up.

Trying to act bored, Jane glanced toward the front table. One of the women there, perhaps distracted by the movement of Jane and Judy, looked up. Then the woman yawned and returned her attention to her companions. No one else had taken any notice of them.

Judy took Jane’s arm and pulled her a couple of steps to one side, so that she blocked the front table’s view of the circuit breaker. Jane could not see the rear door in the darkness at the back of the warehouse. Hunter and Steve were also invisible, but she supposed they were moving toward the door by now.

The only path from here to the door ran along the wall. They would have to walk in the dark down this side wall, turn at the back corner, and then cross part of the rear wall to reach the door. The floor was clear all the way, since everyone had tried to keep away from the cold exterior walls when choosing places to sleep.

Jane heard a quiet metallic clink as Judy opened the door to the circuit breakers. Then she heard snapping noises and the warehouse darkened. Exclamations of surprise came from the front. Then a chair scraped on the floor as someone got up to find the problem.

“Around the wall,” Jane whispered frantically. “Come on, quick.”

Jane hated walking blindly, but trailing one hand on the side wall in the darkness kept her oriented. She held her other arm out in front of her so that she wouldn’t bump into the rear wall. Judy shuffled behind her.

Just as Jane’s hand touched the rear wall, she heard the door creak. Only a slip of pale moonlight revealed the doorway. She walked faster now that she could see it, and recognized the silhouettes of Hunter and Steve as they moved soundlessly outside.

“Close that door!” One of the men who had been sitting at the front table shouted from about halfway across the room behind them, as he neared the circuit breaker.

More people murmured in the warehouse, disturbed by the shout. Jane ran for the doorway and ducked out; Hunter was bracing it open with one foot while he held Steve’s overcoat out for him to take. Judy followed right behind Jane.

“Follow me,” Hunter whispered firmly. He turned and took off at a jog.

Jane saw the other overcoats bundled under his arm. She and Judy would have to wait to put them on. Jane ran after Hunter, instantly cold in the frigid night air. They ran through a narrow alley in the dark, silent city. Alongside them, light suddenly came on around the edges of the blackened windows.

“Who’s out there?” One of the guards yelled from the rear door. “The city is under curfew! Where are you going? Come back here!”

Hunter turned at the corner of another alley. He waited for Jane and Judy to catch up; Steve brought up the rear. Hunter shook out two overcoats and threw them over the shoulders of the women. Then, instead of moving toward the street, Hunter led them up the other alley.

Jane, holding the coat awkwardly over her shoulders as she ran, wondered if anyone was chasing them. She didn’t hear anything. The team turned another corner. Then Hunter stopped, merely a looming shadow in front of Jane, as everyone gathered around him.

“I hear no pursuit,” Hunter said quietly, as he put on his own overcoat. “We must not linger for long, but you may pause to catch your breath. Judy, do you think someone will chase us farther?”

“I have no idea,” said Judy, shucking her overcoat and throwing her arms into the sleeves. She shrugged it back onto her shoulders. “We’d better assume they will. I don’t know how important they consider this curfew, or how much authority those guys have. One thing this society stifles very hard is personal initiative.”

“You mean if they weren’t told to report or chase people who break the curfew, they won’t do anything?” Steve asked, between rasping breaths. He had the duffel bag slung over one shoulder.

“It’s unlikely,” said Judy. “But they might have been given such orders.”

Jane had her own coat on properly now and fumbled the scarf out of her coat pocket with stiff fingers.

“Come on,” said Hunter. As before, he jogged up another shadowed alley.

Still holding her scarf, Jane ran after him. As before, they still turned corners frequently, always keeping to back alleys. Finally, Hunter led them out of an alley onto a deserted side street. In the open space, the weak moonlight illuminated their surroundings a little better than before. Hunter stopped and waited for his team to catch their breath again.

“Hunter?” Jane asked, tying on her scarf. “Where are we going?”

“I do not know exactly. However, we can certainly find other buildings of the same kind housing other people displaced by the war.”

“How do we find one?” Steve asked.

“I am not sure,” said Hunter. “Judy, can you suggest a way to do this?”

“Uh — I’m not sure. I have to think about it.”

“All right,” said Hunter. “In any case, Judy, you will be safe as long as the NKVD agents don’t see you. Now that we are away from the warehouse where they first found you, our chances of avoiding them are much improved.”

“True,” said Judy. “But I think we’d better keep moving — to stay warm if nothing else.”

“Use your hearing as we walk,” Jane said to Hunter. “On maximum.”

“For what?” Hunter asked, leading them down the dark sidewalk. “What am I listening for?”

“The sound of a lot of people sleeping in one big room,” said Jane.

“That won’t be very loud,” said Steve. “Even to you.”

“I am turning up my aural sensitivity,” said Hunter. “If we come within my hearing range of such sounds, I shall recognize them.”

“Good luck,” Steve muttered doubtfully.

Wayne and Ishihara followed Leutnant Mohr away from Major Bach’s fire. Ishihara had managed to get the Major’s permission for the Leutnant to drive them out of the German camp and beyond German lines, but that would still leave many kilometers of open, frozen ground to cross. On the other side, of course, they could expect to find thousands of Soviet soldiers, expecting only the enemy to come across that stretch of territory.

Leutnant Mohr said nothing as he led them to his patrol’s armored car. All three of them crowded into the cab. It started with a loud roar and jerked forward.

“How far is it to go past the most forward of the German lines from here?” Ishihara asked casually.

Leutnant Mohr shrugged. “I am not certain. Not far. It will take maybe fifteen minutes, since we must go around so many emplacements.”

“Thank you for your courtesy, Leutnant.” Ishihara unfastened his fur cloak and shifted in his seat so that he could pull it off.

“You’re welcome.”

“This cloak is quite warm. With the tunic and our leggings, it is not really necessary for me.”

Leutnant Mohr glanced at him in surprise.

Wayne stifled a smile. He was pretty sure he knew where Ishihara was leading. Just in case he was wrong, however, he decided to say nothing until he was sure.

“I might be induced to trade this cloak,” said Ishihara, holding a portion of the cloak in front of him where Leutnant Mohr could see it.

“You would trade this cloak?” Leutnant Mohr asked carefully, struggling to hold the wheel as the vehicle bounced across the frozen ground.

“I would consider it.”

“I don’t have much to trade,” said Leutnant Mohr. “What would you want for it?”

“A favor.”

“Yes? What is this favor?”

“It will take great courage, Leutnant.”

Leutnant Mohr’s face tightened. “Are you suggesting that I lack courage?”

“You tell me,” said Ishihara.

“What do you want?”

“I want you to drive us across the neutral zone,” said Ishihara.

“You mean the no-man’s-land?”

“Yes.”

“Toward the Red Army? You’re insane. We will be blasted into nothing in this armored car.”

“Maybe not,” said Wayne, feeling that he could participate now. “One car alone will not be mistaken for a major military advance that would get a lot of attention.”

“You’re both insane.”

“As I said, it will take great courage,” said Ishihara, in an offhand tone.

Leutnant Mohr said nothing.

“You don’t have to shake hands with the Russians,” said Wayne. “Just get us as far across the open area to the other side as you can.”

“We would have to anticipate enemy patrols,” said Leutnant Mohr slowly.

“Most of that terrain is empty,” said Wayne. “If we see any sign of the enemy, you can let us get out and then you can run for it.”

“That’s a long way. I could get into trouble with my superior.”

Wayne heard some indecision in the Leutnant’s voice for the first time. He took the cloak from Ishihara and reached over to put it on Leutnant Mohr’s lap. It was all Wayne could think of to help convince him.

“This is only December,” said Ishihara. “Most of the Russian winter still lies ahead.”

“We shall take Moscow shortly,” said Leutnant. Mohr, just as he had said once before.

“Then you will not need the cloak,” said Ishihara. “Please return it.”

“Um — wait.”

“Yes?” Ishihara hesitated.

“I will do it for both cloaks,” said Leutnant Mohr, with sudden firmness.

“What?” Wayne was startled.

“I will drive as close to the Red Army as I can get,” said Leutnant Mohr. “In exchange, you will give me your cloak, as well. This is my offer.”

Wayne grinned. “There’s nothing wrong with his courage, Ishihara. He’s just been bargaining with us.”

“What is your answer?” Leutnant Mohr asked.

“Sorry,” said Wayne. “Ishihara may be warm enough without his cloak, but I won’t be. I have to keep mine.”

“As you said, it will be a very long walk.”

“No deal,” said Wayne. “I keep my cloak no matter what. I’ll freeze without it.”

“One cloak in exchange for the ride,” said Ishihara. “Take it or leave it.”

“I accept,” said Leutnant Mohr.

11

WAYNE RELAXED, DEEPLY relieved that Leutnant Mohr had given in to their terms. Of course, Leutnant Mohr was as cold as every other soldier in the German army, and the fuel he was using belonged to the army, not to him personally. As he drove, he pulled the heavy fur cloak from Germany, almost two thousand years earlier, over his lap.

Leutnant Mohr was not taking as much of a risk as he believed. Wayne knew that Ishihara would be monitoring the Soviet radio traffic. He would know if any Soviet patrol reported by radio that they were coming this way long before they were in sight.

No one challenged them as they drove close to the most forward German lines. Wayne decided that the entire army was just as cold and discouraged as the soldiers he had seen himself. None of them wanted to take any initiative. As long as the armored car did nothing particularly offensive, he guessed they would not be stopped.

Leutnant Mohr did not immediately drive straight through the lines out into the open front.

“Will the soldiers here let us go through their lines?” Ishihara asked.

“We must not be seen heading straight for the enemy,” Leutnant Mohr said.

Wayne saw that they were gradually moving to the left, going north behind the lines.

“What is your plan?” Ishihara asked.

“Yeah — can you really get us past them?” Wayne looked out the window at the darkness, broken only by their headlights and a few small, weak fires along the lines.

“Yes,” said Leutnant Mohr. “The north flank is not far. Going out past the flank will mean that we will pass only a few sentries. They may not bother to stop us.”

When the armored car finally reached the north flank, Wayne was surprised to see that it was not really anchored in any way. He knew that armies usually wanted some feature in the terrain to protect their flanks, such as a mountain, a river, or even a slight rise in the ground. Here, the German lines simply came to a halt on the level steppe. It was another sign that weariness, cold, and exhaustion had undermined the efficiency of this army.

Suddenly the headlights struck a couple of soldiers waving their arms. Leutnant Mohr sighed and halted their vehicle in front of them. Then he rolled down the window and waited for them to approach him.

One sentry came up to the armored car. He looked at all three of them carefully and then spoke. Wayne could not understand his German, of course, but he could judge the man’s tone. The sentry spoke respectfully, aware that he was addressing an officer. Leutnant Mohr answered quietly and confidently as he handed his pass to him.

The sentry moved so that he could read the pass in the glow of the headlights. He showed it to his partner, who nodded and stepped back. The first sentry returned it to Leutnant Mohr and pointed off into the blackness ahead, saying something else. Then he, too, backed away.

Leutnant Mohr put the vehicle into gear and drove forward, beyond the flank.

“What did they say?” Wayne asked.

“They assumed I was lost,” said Leutnant Mohr. “I explained that we were on a special reconnaissance mission and showed them the pass.”

“What will you say on the way back?” Wayne asked. “When you’re alone?”

“I will circle around this spot and return to the lines farther to the rear. Major Bach’s pass will serve with other sentries, who did not see me in your company.”

“They must have seen we aren’t in uniform,” said Wayne. “Did they ask about it?”

“Yes. I told them I was not allowed to reveal your identities.”

“Hey, not bad.” Wayne grinned. “You’re a sharp guy, Leutnant.”

Instead of answering, Leutnant Mohr simply pushed the accelerator, taking them faster over the hard ground. They were now moving out into pure darkness slashed only by their own headlights. After a while, he turned to the right.

For the first time, now, they were driving east, toward Moscow and the Soviet lines protecting it. Wayne looked back over his shoulder. The last fires from the German lines were out of sight. That was how Leutnant Mohr had decided the time had come to start across the open area between the lines.

No one spoke for a long time. Wayne could not see the speedometer, if the vehicle had one. In the darkness, he had no way to judge their speed by the passing terrain, either. He did not feel that they were moving very fast, but did not want to raise the subject. At this point, he was just glad they had a ride across the cold, barren countryside.

Wayne glanced up and suddenly realized that he could see powerful beams of light stretching high into the sky in the distance ahead. They started from somewhere on the ground, over the horizon, and swept upward into the sky. He suspected that he should already know what the lights were, so he did not dare ask. Maybe they were looking for enemy aircraft over Moscow. They had probably been visible for some time before he had noticed them.

“I believe we are halfway to enemy lines,” Leutnant Mohr said quietly. He did not slow down or turn, but his voice sounded oddly tight

“We have made excellent progress,” said Ishihara. His tone was calm.

Wayne picked up the meaning of his delivery. Ishihara was monitoring the Soviet radio traffic and knew that the Red Army had not noticed them. Leutnant Mohr was getting nervous, though, knowing that they were drawing closer to the enemy than to the safety of his own lines.

They rode in silence for a while longer. Finally, however, Leutnant Mohr came to a stop. Wayne saw nothing in the darkness around them.

“What is wrong?” Ishihara asked.

“We are within five to seven kilometers of enemy lines,” said Leutnant Mohr. In the reflected light from the headlights, his face was pale and tense.

“That is still a long walk for us,” said Ishihara. “We have had no sign of the enemy.”

“This is as far as I dare go,” said Leutnant Mohr. “We are certain to attract Soviet patrols in the next few miles. And if they open up with artillery, I will not be able to go back to my own lines quietly, either. I could be blamed for starting an unplanned action.”

“But five to seven kilometers,” Wayne started. “In this cold, we could —”

“Very well,” Ishihara interrupted, speaking more loudly than usual to drown out Wayne. “Your arguments are sound, Leutnant. We thank you for your cooperation.”

“I wish you good luck,” said Leutnant Mohr.

Wayne and Ishihara got out into the cold night air. The armored car jerked and rumbled away in a large turn. In a moment, it was bouncing over the frozen ground back to the west. Wayne and Ishihara were alone.

“Why didn’t you argue a little harder?” Wayne asked, pulling his cloak snugly around him.

“We cannot risk having Leutnant Mohr start a battle prematurely. It could change world history in a manner very destructive to our own time.”

Wayne sighed. “Freezing to death will be destructive to me, personally.”

“I cannot allow harm to come to you, either. You are already aware of that.”

“For that matter, what about you?” Wayne looked at him. “Your energy storage has a limit, too. How long can you manage out here without your cloak?”

“I can pursue normal activity without a problem until dawn, at which time even the weak winter sun will begin to recharge the solar collectors built into my skin surface. Unusually extreme activity tonight could drain me prematurely, but I do not foresee that happening.”

“So, we just start walking? I’m not sure I can make it that distance.”

“I am certain you cannot,” said Ishihara. “I have another plan to propose.”

“Good.”

“I warn you that considerable risk is involved in this suggestion, too. However, I feel it is less risky to your welfare than simply trying to walk from here would be.”

“All right, all right. Get to the point, will you? I’m freezing while we stand here.”

“I can radio ahead to the Soviets on my internal system and ask for help.”

“Uh — what would you say?”

“We will have to discuss that and come to agreement on our story, just as we did with the Germans. In this case, we should have plenty of time, since the Soviets so far remain unaware of us.”

“Well, we managed with the Germans. I guess we could come up with a better story this time.”

“If someone comes to get us, they may wonder where our radio is. Obviously, I cannot reveal that I am a robot with an internal system.”

“What do you want to tell them?”

“Since we will have no radio of this era to show them, we must be careful to explain that our radio quit working and was abandoned before they arrived. I recommend that we claim the Germans had us under fire at the time.”

“Got it. But isn’t that a little premature? First we’d better hope someone shows up at all. Then we can hope they don’t demand to see the radio.”

“With your agreement, I shall radio for help in Russian to the Red Army.”

“Go ahead,” Wayne said wryly. “Otherwise, this cold may kill me first.”

They stood in silence for a moment, as Ishihara broadcast a message.

“You get anybody?” Wayne asked.

Not yet.”

“What did you say?”

“I was deliberately vague. I said that we were bringing intelligence about the Germans back to the Soviet lines but were stranded.”

“Did you send it more than once?”

“Yes, of course. And I shall continue to transmit it at intervals.”

“Good.”

“But I must question a statement you made a moment ago about dying of the cold. Before I can allow that to happen, I would have to insist that we leave this time and place.”

“Changing to another time has to remain our last resort,” said Wayne. “That’s a Second Law imperative.”

“We discussed this matter in ancient Germany,” said Ishihara. “I understand your concern that Hunter will have assigned another robot to apprehend us back in our own time. But of course we do not have to return there. We can jump only a few hours and a few miles if you wish.”

“I know,” said Wayne. “But if we jump from here to Moscow, for instance, we don’t know where we’ll appear — maybe right in front of people. And if we move forward at too long an interval, I’m afraid Hunter will already have grabbed MC 4 before we’ve had a chance.”

“I understand,” said Ishihara. He hesitated, suddenly moving to face east.

Wayne waited eagerly, sure that he had received something from the Soviets.

“They are coming,” said Ishihara.

How far away are they?”

“I do not know yet. A Red Army unit finally responded to my message on the fourteenth repetition. I said we are civilians escaping from the Germans with military intelligence we wanted to share with the Soviets.”

“How were you able to tell them where we are? I have no idea.” Wayne looked around in the darkness.

“I could not. I told them I shall transmit to them every minute or so, just counting numbers, so that they can trace the signal as they approach us.”

“I hope they hurry. I’m getting colder by the minute.”

“They are not far.”

“Good,” said Wayne. “Do you know what will happen between these two armies here? I mean, I know which side won the war, of course, but what about right here? Do you know anything about that?”

“I have no details.”

“None at all?”

“I only know that the Germans will lose this battle outside Moscow,” said Ishihara. “They do not take the city, despite what Leutnant Mohr said about it. This is the first Soviet victory of the war.”

“Well, let’s figure out our story. We want to have it before anyone gets here.”

Hunter walked through the dark, nearly deserted streets with his team, pausing to hide in shadows or around corners on the few occasions when they saw a vehicle. They saw no other pedestrians. At the same time, Hunter monitored the radio transmissions in Moscow from the NKVD. The transmissions made reference to a couple of other public buildings that were being used to house displaced citizens.

None of the messages mentioned an exact address. However, Hunter heard references to neighborhoods and streets that helped him choose the team’s direction. After nearly an hour of walking through the cold, he approached another warehouse, from which a small amount of light escaped around the edges of a blacked-out window.

“That must be the place,” said Hunter. “I can hear the sleeping breaths of many people inside, as Jane suggested earlier.”

“What’s our story?” Steve moved up next to Hunter, moving slowly with weariness from all the walking. “Won’t they want to know what we’ve been doing out at this hour?”

“As you have occasionally recommended, I shall improvise.” Hunter knocked firmly on the front door. “The story we used when we first arrived, without you, should be sufficient.”

“What was it?” Steve asked.

Before Hunter could answer, the door opened slightly. A stout, scowling man glared at him. “Yeah, what is it?”

“We are displaced citizens from a farm west of Moscow,” said Hunter. “We have fled the Germans and seek shelter for the night.”

“The Germans have been at our gates for weeks. Where have you been since then?” The man eyed Steve suspiciously. “Where’s he from? He’s no Russian.”

12

STEVE STEPPED BACK.

My friend is a Mongol who originally came from south of here, down by the Black Sea,” Hunter said calmly. “Recently, he worked on the collective farm with us. Here are my sister and my cousin.”

“You are a fine, big, strapping fellow,” the guard said. “Why aren’t you out in the front lines? We have need for men like you.”

Hunter patted his left leg. “I can’t keep up on the march. Bad leg.”

“Oh? And you’re out in the cold all night?” The man started to say something else when another man’s voice from inside stopped him.

“Let them in, Yevgeny! So you can close the door! You’re letting all the cold air inside!”

The first man frowned even more, but he stepped back, holding the door open.

Hunter entered first, judging that more potential danger to his team lay in the uncertainties inside than in the empty street outside. However, this warehouse was little different from the last one. In the weak light from a lamp on the front table, he could see that the warehouse floor was covered with the sleeping people he had first heard a few moments before.

“We have no more blankets.” Their host folded his arms across his chest and stared at Hunter. “And we have very little space left.”

“It will be fine,” Hunter said casually. “Thank you.” He led the team down one wall, carefully stepping around or over the people in the way.

As in the other warehouse, people had clustered near the heating vents and had avoided the external walls as much as possible. That once again left some space for the team in one of the back corners. The corner was not exactly warm, but it was much warmer than the streets.

Hunter turned to look at his team members in the shadows and spoke in a whisper. “Is everyone okay?” He glanced past them to see that no one else was listening.

“Yes,” whispered Judy. “Good job.”

“I’m fine,” said Jane.

“Let’s get some rest,” said Steve.

“Your sleep schedules do not match the time to which we have come,” said Hunter. “You will probably not sleep. But we must remain quiet so that we attract no more attention. Your bodies will begin to adjust.”

“It’s like jet lag,” said Steve, with a shrug.

Wayne was shivering uncontrollably out on the steppe by the time headlights appeared in the distance to the east. The lights quivered and jumped as the vehicle rumbled across the frozen steppe toward them. Ishihara waited patiently.

A Soviet armored car finally roared to a stop in front of them. It was designed in a slightly different way from the one Leutnant Mohr had driven, but essentially accomplished the same purpose. The moment it stopped, however, a squad of Soviet soldiers leaped out of the back and fanned out to surround them, aiming their rifles at Wayne and Ishihara. One of them shouted in Russian.

Ishihara raised his hands over his head. Wayne imitated him. Neither of them spoke.

The squad leader shouted again. Two of the soldiers slung their rifles over their shoulders and jogged forward. They frisked Wayne and Ishihara, then stepped back.

The squad leader spoke sharply once more, jerking his head toward the back of the armored car.

“Follow me.” Ishihara walked toward it, glancing back at Wayne.

The instruction was unnecessary. Wayne was going to do whatever Ishihara did. They climbed into the back of the armored car, followed by the rest of the squad.

The armored car rumbled forward in a wide turn and drove back in the direction from which it had come. These soldiers were much more alert than the exhausted Germans had been. They kept their weapons trained on the prisoners during the entire ride, and never looked away from them.

Since Ishihara said nothing, Wayne remained silent as well. These Soviet soldiers seemed more dangerous, at least so far, than the Germans ever had. He could only hope that their superiors, like the Germans, would be open to hearing their story. As the icy wind whipped past them, he concentrated on keeping his balance and not making any sudden moves.

The journey did not take very long. The searchlights over Moscow were closer than ever. With the Soviet lines blacked out, however, Wayne suddenly realized that they were coming right up on the lines without any warning. Moscow itself was still some distance away.

The armored car drove through the lines to the rear. When it pulled up in front of a large tent, the squad leader shouted in Russian again. Ishihara jumped to the ground, so Wayne followed him.

Ishihara felt stress under the First Law imperatives. He had to keep Wayne safe or else somehow reach inside his torso cavity quickly and take them both to the safety of another time. His promise to Wayne not to do so unnecessarily, however, prevented him from acting too hastily.

Two men in civilian clothes, wearing long black overcoats and fur hats, came out of the tent. One of the civilians conferred briefly with the squad leader in Russian. The other soldiers still held their weapons trained on Wayne and Ishihara.

“This way,” said the civilian to Ishihara in Russian, nodding toward the tent.

Turning, Ishihara led Wayne into the tent. Ishihara was surprised that civilians were going to talk to them. Here in military lines, he had expected to be grilled by military officers again.

Only a battered wooden table and a couple of wooden stools stood inside the tent. The dirty canvas walls protected them from the wind but did little else. One of the civilians spoke in a coldly formal tone.

“What nationality are you?”

“My friend is Swedish and I am Swiss.”

They had agreed upon this story while waiting out on the steppe. The Soviets would not like to hear that Ishihara had any connection to Japan because of their historical resentment; in 1905, the Japanese had defeated Czarist Russia in war. If Wayne and Ishihara were both Swedish, however, their hosts would expect them to communicate in that language. Since Ishihara knew that Switzerland had also been neutral in this war, claiming to be Swiss would explain their language differences.

“My friend does not speak Russian or any of the languages spoken in Switzerland and I do not speak Swedish,” said Ishihara. “Therefore, we speak English to each other and I can translate Russian for him.”

“Very well.”

Ishihara turned to Wayne and explained this exchange in English.

“All right,” said Wayne. “Any idea who these guys are? They aren’t officers.”

“I am not certain.” Ishihara turned. “Who are you? What are your names?”

“You don’t need to know.”

Ishihara translated this, as well.

Wayne nodded. Then he waited, as one of the two civilians asked questions. His partner remained silent.

Ishihara prepared to translate throughout the conversation.

“What are your names?” The man in charge, a stout, frowning man, looked back and forth between them from under bushy eyebrows.

“Wayne Nystrom and R. Ishihara.”

“What are you doing here? What is your purpose?”

“We are pro-Soviet agents from neutral countries,” said Ishihara, matching their host’s formal tone. “For many months, we have been pursuing a German agent across much of central and eastern Europe.”

“Why are you wearing those ridiculous clothes?”

“We were given these clothes while crossing the mountains fleeing the enemy.”

The man studied them both for a moment. “You say you are chasing a German agent?”

“Two agents,” said Wayne. “Remember Hunter.”

“Oh, yes.”

“Eh? You aren’t certain of your mission?” The Russian glowered at them both suspiciously. “You are changing your story, now?”

“Our first mission is to apprehend a man codenamed MC 4,” said Ishihara.

“However, another German agent is hoping to warn him about us first,” said Wayne. “His name is Hunter. Naturally, we must stop him, too.”

“This agent who is code-named MC 4,” said the Russian, still eyeing Ishihara closely. “Do you know what his name is? Or what name he is using?”

“No,” said Ishihara.

“What is his mission in Moscow?”

Ishihara was aware that Wayne was deliberately remaining quiet, letting Ishihara take the lead. If they both answered simultaneously, and contradicted each other, they would lose their credibility completely. Wayne watched Ishihara.

“We believe that MC 4 will observe Red Army military placements,” said Ishihara.

“Then he will not enter the city proper?”

“We expect that he will also infiltrate the city to gain further information. Then he will radio what he learns back to German lines.”

“If he has preceded you here, he may already have radioed this information.” Their host turned to Wayne. “You have said very little. Do you think you are too late?”

“Uh — no,” said Wayne slowly, as Ishihara continued to translate. “We aren’t too late. I don’t think he can risk too many radio transmissions from here to the German lines.”

“He can’t risk too many? What do you mean?” For the first time, the Russian sounded less hostile.

“Well, if he radios back too soon, he runs the risk of being caught before he has learned everything he can,” said Wayne. “He won’t want to take that chance.”

“Then what do you expect him to do?”

“I think he’ll probably try to look around the Red Army positions first, then enter the city before he transmits anything.”

“Yes,” said Ishihara, nodding quickly. “This would match his pattern of behavior in the past.”

“Eh? What pattern do you mean?”

“He will try to gather all his information first and then transmit it at once. A single radio transmission will lower the risk to himself.”

“That’s right,” Wayne said quickly. “That’s what I was trying to say.”

“Now what about this other agent? Is ‘Hunter’ his code name or the one he is giving to others?”

“This is what he calls himself,” said Wayne. “We, uh, don’t know what his code name is.”

“What do they look like?”

The second Russian took out a pad of paper and a pencil from his overcoat and prepared to take notes.

“They are opposites,” said Wayne. “MC 4 is a short, slender man, very slight and quick.”

“Hunter is tall and brawny,” said Ishihara. “Blond hair, blue eyes.”

The man taking notes nodded as he scribbled. When he had caught up with what they had said already, Wayne and Ishihara finished giving him descriptions of the two robots. Wayne had decided that MC 4 and Hunter, being robots, could adequately take care of themselves.

However, Wayne did not want to be responsible for the human members of Hunter’s team falling into the hands of the Soviet government. He did not mention them. When Ishihara also avoided giving any information about them, Wayne decided that the First Law prohibited Ishihara from doing so.

Wayne hoped merely to cause delays for Hunter. If Hunter got into real trouble, of course, he could ultimately take his team out of danger by returning to their own time. Meanwhile, maybe the Soviet authorities could somehow help Wayne and Ishihara locate MC 4.

On the other hand, the authorities might want to keep these spies for themselves if they caught them.

“Both these agents are clever,” said Wayne. He was not sure what he was going to say, but he wanted to convince their hosts that these two fugitives should be brought to Wayne and Ishihara. “To get the most out of them, we should participate in the questioning.”

“Yes, of course,” said the first man.

“Only we two can fully interpret their answers and their information,” Ishihara added, apparently picking up Wayne’s concern.

“We must ask them about their activities on earlier missions, as well,” said Wayne.

“What about the German lines?” The second man, who had been silent to this point, finally spoke. “What have you observed that can be of use to us?”

Wayne hesitated. Ishihara saw that he did not want to pass information that could somehow alter history in a significant way. He needed prodding.

Ishihara gave Wayne a very subtle nod of encouragement. “I am certain we shall win,” said Ishihara. “The upcoming battle will be a victory.”

“Yes? Why are you so sure?” The civilian’s tone was a little more open now.

“What is your name?” Ishihara asked. “So we can all become acquainted.”

“I am Agent Raskov,” said the second man.

The first man, who had refused to introduce them earlier, scowled in resignation. “I am Agent Konev.”

“Why are you so certain that we will win the next battle?” Agent Raskov asked again.

“The German army is dying on its feet,” said Wayne. “They are cold. In fact, their soldiers don’t even have winter clothes to wear.”

“Eh?” Agent Raskov glanced in surprise at his partner. “How can this be?”

“Their generals were overconfident,” said Ishihara. “They expected to have taken Moscow before winter began. Already, the Red Army has stalled their plans.”

“So they are cold.” Agent Raskov turned back to Wayne. “What else?”

“Their morale is low. They are totally dispirited. They really just want to go home.”

“They do?” Agent Konev raised his bushy eyebrows. “Are they ripe for subversion?”

“Uh …” Wayne glanced uncertainly at Ishihara. “What do you think?”

“No,” said Ishihara. “The German soldiers are discouraged but they are not cowards or traitors.”

“Maybe they fear Hitler more than they fear us,” said Agent Konev.

“Yes, that is possible.”

“We were in Panzer Group 3,” said Ishihara. “I can tell you its placement.”

“Excellent.” Agent Raskov turned a page in his notebook. “Go ahead.”

Wayne waited patiently while Ishihara described German placements. He was certain that these were not secrets; the Soviets already knew where the Germans had been. Finally, when Ishihara had finished, their hosts seemed to soften a little. Agent Raskov even smiled very slightly as he put away his notebook.

“Your information about the placement of the enemy matches our own,” said Agent Raskov.

“Why was no previous liaison made with us?” Agent Konev shook his head.

“Yes, we should have heard from you,” said Agent Raskov. “That is true.”

“We apologize,” said Ishihara, with a faint shrug.

13

AGENT KONEV TURNED to Wayne. He acted more relaxed now, though he remained reserved. “Since you are traveling without credentials, you should have given us some form of advance notice.”

“We would have if it had been possible,” said Wayne. “We were afraid that the Germans would intercept any radio communication we made too soon.”

“That was a real danger,” said Agent Raskov. “You seem to have handled it well.”

“By the time we did radio you, we were closer to Red Army lines than German lines, so we felt it was safe enough to attempt,” said Wayne.

“We took a considerable risk contacting you when we did,” said Ishihara.

“How did you get across the no-man’s-land?” Agent Raskov asked. “I mean to say, as far across it as you got?”

“It was a long, cold walk,” said Ishihara. “And we only dared use our radio when we realized that we could not make the trip on our own.”

“And where is your radio now?” Agent Konev asked. “Do the soldiers have it?”

“No,” said Ishihara. “It malfunctioned. Since it was heavy, we abandoned it under fire from the Germans as we fled.”

Both Russians nodded.

Ishihara did not know if their hosts completely believed their story. However, he could see that they, like the Germans, were at least undecided about them. He was certain that the fact that he had taken the initiative to contact them lent some positive weight to their story, too.

“What help can you give us?” Ishihara asked. “In our search for the two enemy agents?”

“We must confer further on this,” said Agent Raskov. “However, first we can give you some hot coffee.” He grinned openly for the first time. “Coffee is rare these days, carefully rationed. But we can offer you some.”

“I could use something to eat, too, if that’s possible,” said Wayne.

“Of course.” Agent Raskov glanced at his watch. “We can arrange it. As for the help, however, it is quite late. What help do you want?”

“Where would two strangers find shelter in Moscow?” Ishihara asked. “Traveling individually, with no one to help them, where would they go?”

“Public housing,” said Agent Konev.

“That’s right,” said Agent Raskov. “It would be easier for them now, in wartime, than in peacetime. So many people have been displaced by the war.”

“Then we would like to visit these places,” said Ishihara. “To look for our quarry.”

Agent Raskov looked at his partner. “I think we can do this tonight.”

“Yes. Tonight is good. If we find these enemy infiltrators while they are sleeping, they will be easier to identify and apprehend.”

“I agree,” said Agent Raskov. “First we will feed you. Then we will drive you into the city and see if we can take care of this matter.”

“Thank you.” Wayne relaxed a little. Hot coffee, food, and help finding MC 4 were the best news they had received since arriving in this time. “Can you find us ordinary clothes?”

“Wait here,” said Agent Raskov. “We will send someone with coffee and something for you to eat. If we can find clothes, we shall bring them.”

“Thank you,” said Wayne. The two agents left the tent without saying anything else. In only a few moments, they were out of human hearing. However, Ishihara heard them still talking to each other with his enhanced hearing.

“How much time should we spend looking for these other agents?” Agent Raskov asked quietly.

“We should look tonight, at least, in case we can find them quickly,” said Agent Konev.

“And then?”

“We must have more information about our two guests. At dawn, we must interrogate them thoroughly. We cannot allow ourselves to work with only partial information.”

“Even if we find these two agents? That would back up their story.”

“No matter what we find,” said Agent Konev. “Their story is too thin and they have no documents to back it up. We must interrogate them as we would an enemy.”

Hunter lay motionless in the darkened warehouse. He had not shut himself down, but was conserving energy by not moving. Of course, he pretended to sleep at the same time. When a firm, resounding knock sounded at the main door, he did not move, but instantly magnified his hearing. He checked his internal clock and found that the time was 3:17 A.M.

The knocking was repeated, loudly, as someone from the front went to answer it.

“Who’s there?” One of the guards spoke cautiously from inside the door.

“Agents Raskov and Konev, NKVD.”

As the door was opened, Hunter reached out and gently woke Steve.

“Steve, can you hear me?” Hunter whispered.

“Yeah.”

“I believe the NKVD is looking for Judy. You and Jane move closer to her. Cover her face with something. I will try to create a diversion.”

“What?” Steve opened his eyes, startled. “The NKVD is here after all?”

Hunter slipped his belt unit into Steve’s hand. He knew Steve would not leave for their own time without him except in an extreme emergency. “I have already set the controls. Use it if you must.”

Steve nodded and moved over to wake up Jane and Judy, whispering to them quietly.

Hunter listened to the two NKVD agents ask the guards about Hunter by both his name and his description. The overhead lights came on, causing a number of people in the crowd to stir. Hunter looked up and saw one of the guards pointing directly toward this corner.

The two agents began working their way down the length of the warehouse. Their way was blocked by all the sleeping and newly awakened people on the floor. Hunter had a few seconds to consider what to do.

He was puzzled by their possessing his description but not Judy’s. Still, he expected that these agents would take the entire team if they found the group together. He had to separate himself from the others immediately.

Hunter did not want to return his entire team to their own time in front of so many witnesses. Two such events would definitely be discussed and would influence the local authorities in some way. Having everyone flee out the rear door again might not be as effective this time; the NKVD agents would maintain pursuit, where as the ordinary guards in the previous warehouse had not bothered.

The two agents stared at Hunter with grim determination as they stumbled through the crowd.

To prevent them from taking the human members of his team, Hunter could allow himself to be taken. He felt he could manage to get away later if they arrested him. His team members would still be in some danger without him, but totally avoiding significant risk was now impossible.

To help the rest of his team escape, he would have to lead the NKVD agents away from them.

Hunter got to his feet suddenly. The two agents both stopped in surprise, looking up at him; maybe his height startled them. Instead of running, however, Hunter strode toward them, imitating the scowls on both their faces.

The two Russians recovered from their surprise.

“Stop, comrade,” said one. “I am Agent Raskov. You must come with us.”

Since Hunter wanted to keep their attention on him, he did not bother to answer. He suddenly darted to his right, stepping over a sleepy, puzzled elderly man. As the two agents moved to block his way, he jumped over someone else to a small open spot on the floor.

“Halt! I command you!”

More people were sitting up, blinking in the light and looking around.

Hunter, of course, could have easily leaped through the crowd, throwing the two agents aside with his greater strength. Instead, he was hoping to make them work to capture him, so that they would forget about arresting his team members. He hesitated, giving the agents a chance to maneuver closer.

“You will not be hurt, comrade,” said Agent Konev, as he came forward, pulling a handgun out of his overcoat. “Not unless you force us to get angry.”

Around him, those who were awake gasped and squealed in sudden fear. Some scuttled away from him, still on the floor. Others lay flat, their eyes wide.

Hunter had been prepared to move toward the front door again. Now he stopped, staring at the gun aimed at him. He wondered if these agents would actually risk opening fire in the crowded room. From what Judy had said about this society, he estimated that they would.

The Third Law prevented him from taking an unnecessary risk to himself, of course, but the First Law completely prevented him from fleeing now, for fear that bystanders would be shot by mistake. He raised his hands slowly and did not move. The other agent also drew a gun.

“Do not fire,” said Hunter. “Do not endanger anyone else here.”

“Turn around,” said Agent Raskov.

“Agreed. Please do not fire.” Hunter obeyed. He felt himself being frisked. With the demands of the First Law dominating his thoughts, he fully expected that they would next go after the humans on his team — probably forcing Steve to take them all back to their own time.

Instead, to his surprise, each agent took one of his arms and they walked him forward through the warehouse.

Ishihara and Wayne had been left out in the backseat of the car each time that Raskov and Konev went inside another building. Their hosts had found them each a long, black woolen overcoat, but no other clothes to wear. Wayne kept his cloak bundled carefully under his arm.

For almost two hours after reaching Moscow, they had gone to one facility after another, looking for MC 4 and Hunter among the people displaced by the war. Ishihara had already told Wayne what he had overheard with his enhanced hearing about Raskov and Konev interrogating them when morning arrived, whether or not they located the two enemy agents tonight.

Ishihara knew that the interrogation would involve torture. Under the First Law, he could not allow Wayne to take that risk of harm. They had to escape sometime tonight.

“When are we going to make our move?” Wayne asked. “Wouldn’t this be a good time to get away from them? We’re just sitting here.”

“I fear that simply jumping out of the car and running would put you in danger of freezing to death, without improving our chances of avoiding recapture.”

“Yeah. Well … if we don’t escape to begin with, we won’t have to worry about being recaptured at all.” Wayne sighed. “I don’t want to freeze out there, either, but if we’re going to go, shouldn’t we just do it?”

“Yes, you have a point.”

“Hey — they’ve taken a lot longer in this one than the others. Before, they just talked to a few people at the door, got the lights turned on, and came back out. You think that means something?”

Ishihara turned up his hearing to maximum. Suddenly he recognized Hunter’s voice telling someone not “to fire.” Ishihara knew a weapon was being held on him.

“Get in the driver’s seat,” Ishihara said suddenly, opening his own door. “Now, quickly!” He got out and closed the door as quietly as he could.

Wayne climbed over the front seat and rolled down the window so he could speak to Ishihara. “But now what? I don’t know how to work this thing.”

Ishihara ran around to the driver’s side “They are bringing Hunter out. We must avoid him for the good of your own mission.”

“Okay! But what do I do?”

Ishihara leaned inside, pointing. “Push down that pedal, the clutch, with your left foot. Hold on to the steering wheel.” He grabbed the gearshift and moved it. “Hold this right here and, let up with your left foot.”

“Got it.” Wayne did as he was told. “How do you know how to work this thing?”

“I observed the driver carefully as we were riding before, and listened to the engine and gear sounds.”

“But he used a key to turn it on, didn’t he? And he must have taken it with him. It’s not here.”

“I realized that this vehicle is one I have some knowledge about. It will start a couple of other ways than by normal use of the key.”

“It will?”

“Use your other foot on the other two pedals. Those are the brake and accelerator.”

“All right. That’s the same as in our electric vehicles back home.”

Ishihara hurried to the rear of the car. His hearing revealed three sets of footsteps inside the warehouse walking resolutely toward the front door. Hoping that his information about this car was reliable, he leaned against the back of the car and used all of his strength to push it. Slowly, the car rolled forward.

The vehicle was on a fairly level stretch of pavement. In a moment, Ishihara had it moving faster. Suddenly the car jerked a couple of times and the engine made a coughing noise. Finally it roared to life.

“Halt! I order you to stop!” Agent Konev’s voice came from the front door.

Ishihara ran around the right side of the moving car. He yanked the passenger door open and jumped inside. Then he slammed it shut.

“Now what?” Wayne asked frantically, pushing the accelerator to the floor. “It won’t go very fast!”

“Push down the clutch.” Ishihara reached over at the same time and put his hand over Wayne’s on the gearshift, moving it for him. The engine roared and jerked; then the car sped up as it moved into second gear.

“Halt!” A gunshot followed the shout.

Wayne yanked the steering wheel to turn a corner, making the tires squeal.

Ishihara turned to look behind them just before they completed the turn. In the shadows, Agent Raskov held his gun pointing into the air. Next to him, Agent Konev was holding Hunter by one arm.

14

“NOW WHAT DO I do?” Wayne shouted over the roar of the engine as he gripped the steering wheel. “This can’t be right! It’s going a little faster, but it doesn’t sound like it did before!” He was driving down a city street now, but much too slowly.

“Push down the clutch again.” As before, Ishihara grabbed his hand over the gearshift and moved it into third gear. Instantly, the engine noise lowered and the car sped up.

“Okay,” Wayne muttered. “I’m getting some idea about how this works now. But where am I going?”

Ishihara pointed into the shadows ahead. “Turn left at the next corner.”

Wayne turned too fast. The tires squealed again and they both were thrown to the right in their seats. He hit the brake and slowed down, belatedly.

“Uh, sorry,” said Wayne. “I’ll need a lot of practice to get this right.” As soon as he had the steering under control again, he pressed the accelerator and sped up.

“Right now, we need to use an evasive pattern,” said Ishihara. “Our hosts are probably telephoning their main office for help right away.”

“Yeah? What are we going to do, then?”

“Once we have put some distance behind us, we can plan where to go. At the moment, however, I suggest you slow down. We do not want to attract attention by going unusually fast.”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess not.” Wayne carefully braked slightly. This time the car slowed down smoothly. “There. That wasn’t too bad.”

Ishihara looked around. The streets of Moscow were empty and scoured by the wintry winds. So far, he could see no one following them.

“I am not certain what to recommend now,” said Ishihara. “The NKVD at large, of course, will have the description and license number of this car as soon as the agents call in a report.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Wayne. “Shouldn’t we stop somewhere and leave it behind, then?”

“We can risk using it for a short time. Then, as you say, we must find a place to hide the car. We shall have to flee on foot again after that.”

“Okay,” said Wayne. He clenched the steering wheel hard in both hands, tense with his crash course in learning to drive this vintage vehicle. “Just tell me what to do.”

Steve remained flat on the floor of the warehouse as Hunter toyed with the NKVD agents. When the agents took Hunter out, Steve cautiously sat up. Then Jane and Judy pushed themselves up, too, and looked around.

Most of the weary Russians around them lay back down again to go back to sleep. Some whispered fearfully to each other. A few people lined up for the rest room.

“They’re used to it,” Judy whispered. “That’s the worst part of it.”

“Is that why they’re just going back to sleep?” Jane asked, looking around.

“Yes,” said Judy. “Everyone has become so used to this sort of treatment that they just hope no one is coming for them or their loved ones.”

“That’s horrible,” said Steve.

“Yes, it certainly is. And beyond their own personal safety, the oppression doesn’t matter that much to them anymore. After the back-breaking work they do all day, going back to sleep is enough.”

“I thought they’d come for us, too,” said Judy. “This doesn’t make any sense. The guards at the front must have told them we came in together.”

“I don’t get it, either.” Steve patted the bulge made by the belt device inside his shirt to make sure it was secure. “I’m using the latrine. Be right back.”

He got to his feet and joined the line at the rest room. While he waited there, he kept one arm over the bulge in his shirt to hide it. Before his turn came, the people at the front table turned off the overhead lights, leaving on only a small lamp at their table. Steve relaxed a little, knowing that no one could any longer see him clearly in the shadows.

When Steve finally got inside, he turned on his lapel pin and began whispering. “Hunter, Steve here.”

“Yes, Steve.”

“What can you tell me? What’s going on?”

“I know very little. At the moment, the agents who arrested me are escorting me down the street on foot. Clearly, they had not come for Judy after all.”

“Why didn’t they take all of us?”

“They only gave my name and description to the guards. The guards merely pointed me out. No one told them that the rest of you were with me.”

“How did they get your description?”

“I believe Wayne Nystrom and R. Ishihara gave it to them.”

“Huh? How do you know that?”

“The agents’ car was stolen just as we left the warehouse. From my glimpse of the thieves in the shadows, I am certain that R. Ishihara and Wayne Nystrom took the car.”

“What do you want me to do?” Steve asked. “While you’re alone with those guys, you could get away and meet us somewhere. Should we slip out the back door again?”

“No,” Hunter said firmly. “I do not want the team on the run in the cold again. Remain sheltered there for the night. For now, remain calm and patient. I shall not risk calling you, so call me when you can.”

“All right.”

“Be warned that I may have to change my appearance before I return.”

“Okay.”

“Hunter out.”

Steve worked his way back to Jane and Judy in the dimly lighted room and sat down. No one else was moving around now. He relayed the conversation with Hunter to them in a whisper.

“I guess Hunter’s right,” Judy whispered back. “We can’t do much to help him anyway.”

Steve nodded. “I guess.”

“Definitely,” said Judy. “Besides, how could we agree on a place to meet? We don’t know the city.”

“That’s true,” said Jane. “And Hunter has so many more abilities than we have. He has a lot more flexibility without us. He won’t have to worry about us this way, since we’re sheltered here.”

“All right, all right,” said Steve. “Suppose we focus on our main target, instead. We’re spending all our time just trying to get along here. But what about MC 4?”

“I’ve been thinking about him,” said Judy. “Originally, I believed that the First Law would induce MC 4 to interfere with the German advance.”

“I remember,” said Jane.

“Well, maybe I was off base about that,” Judy said slowly. “Actually, as I recall, the German military is in very poor shape right now.”

“They’re the real aggressors, though, aren’t they?” Steve asked.

“Well, yes,” said Judy. “They are the aggressors, in that they’re standing on Soviet territory and they’ve been marching on Moscow. But in the coming battle, the Soviets actually conduct a counterattack.”

“I get it,” said Jane. “So now you think MC 4 might try to prevent violence by interfering with the Soviet counterattack.”

“Well, it’s just one idea. But also, MC 4 may learn about the NKVD itself. Their political prisoners are tortured and sent to labor camps where they are worked to death. MC 4 could be drawn to protect the labor camp prisoners from harm.”

“I can see that possibility, too,” said Jane. “Do you have others?”

“Two more. The Soviet army’s German prisoners of war are also treated brutally. Over on the German side, Soviet prisoners die by the thousands.”

“Labor camp prisoners and prisoners of war on both sides,” said Steve. “Plus the Soviet army command. That’s at least three important places MC 4 might pick out — not to mention any specific situations he happens to see.”

“I haven’t narrowed the possibilities very much, I’m afraid,” said Judy.

Jane nodded. “So many humans are being harmed in so many ways near here right now that the First Law might draw MC 4 in almost any direction. And, of course, he will have to begin by putting his energy into learning all of this. Maybe we’re getting ahead of ourselves. He could just be trying to find clothing and a way to fit in at this stage.”

“All right,” said Steve. “I know our sleep schedules aren’t in line with this time zone, but we might as well lie down and relax a little. When morning comes, we’ll see if we can meet Hunter somewhere and plan something.”

“Good idea,” said Jane.

Steve sighed. He was concerned about Hunter, but could not see anything he could do at the moment. This society was much more structured, even in the disruption of wartime, than the earlier ones the team had visited. Operating in it would be much more complicated than he had realized.

A pounding knock on the front door startled him. Feeling a surge of adrenaline, he forced himself to remain prone and simply turned to look toward the front. As one of the guards spoke through the door and then opened it, the thumping continued. People sleeping inside began to stir.

Four men in long, black coats strode inside. One of them switched on the lights. They had the same manner and clothing as the NKVD agents Steve had seen before.

“Everyone up! Immediately! Wake up! Stand against the wall!” The first man barked the orders. He drew a handgun and held it without pointing it at anyone in particular.

Two of his companions began grabbing people’s arms and pulling them to their feet. Most of the people were groggy from sleep and confused. The fourth man glanced around and then walked over to the front table, where he started looking around carefully.

Steve pushed himself up and helped pull Jane and Judy to their feet. At least the three of them were already awake. He led them over to the wall where the others were being herded, so they could get lost in the crowd.

The agent holding the gun kept it on the crowd. The man who had begun inspecting the front table slowly worked his way through storage cabinets down the wall toward the rest room, pulling out whatever he found and letting it fall. The last two men began kicking apart the bedding and personal items on the floor.

Since they had asked no questions, Steve could not tell right away what they were looking for. He watched as the two agents in the middle of the floor shook everything apart, throwing belongings in all directions. The people huddled around them watched in terror, without protesting.

“Does this happen often?” Steve whispered to Judy, lowering his head to stay out of sight.

“As often as they want,” said Judy. “But they’re looking for something specific, I think.”

Jane nodded. “Something too big for people to hide on their bodies. That’s why they aren’t searching anybody.”

No one else spoke as the three men systematically tore apart all of the personal belongings and threw the items in the storage cabinets onto the floor. The man searching the far wall also inspected the rest room. Finally, after they had finished, they turned and faced the crowd.

“Two secret radio transmitters have been detected functioning in this neighborhood,” said the man with the gun. “Who knows something about them?”

Steve froze with tension. His call to Hunter, when Hunter had still been nearby outside, had been picked up by Soviet receivers, along with Hunter’s response. For the authorities to have estimated the location of the two sources, at least two receivers had to have overheard them, and probably more. Since the man had used the word “neighborhood,” they had not been able to focus specifically on this building. Obviously, however, they had come very close.

Steve chastised himself for being careless. In all of their previous missions, radio had been unknown and, therefore, completely secret. Their only worry had been to avoid having Hunter call them on their lapel pins while they were in the hearing of local people.

He had completely forgotten that their messages could be intercepted by local authorities. Since Hunter had not warned him of this at the time, even Hunter might have taken the possibility lightly. Now they had caused this disruption and potential danger to everyone in the warehouse.

The crowd remained silent, some eyeing the four NKVD agents with fear and others turning their faces away. In turn, the four men stared at individuals in the crowd, frowning with suspicion. No one spoke for a long moment.

Steve frantically tried to remember the content of his conversation with Hunter. He remembered that Judy’s first name had been mentioned and also the names of Wayne Nystrom and Ishihara. He had addressed Hunter by name and used his own first name — and they had spoken in English. That alone would mark them as foreigners. Also, the brief exchange had raised the possibility of sneaking out to meet, which certainly would have sounded suspicious. Beyond that, however, he could not recall the exact wording of the discussion.

The agent with the gun walked up to the crowd and spoke in a low voice to someone in the crowd. Steve could not see him. He could not make out the words, either, but the tone was menacing, aimed at intimidation.

Steve decided that radio meant something much more important here than it did in his own time. Though his knowledge of history did not come close to that of Hunter or Judy, and was not as good as even Jane’s, he supposed that radio was the only broadcast tool available in this time. It would be especially useful for intelligence agents. These NKVD agents were probably looking for spies, though they had no idea that a transmitter and receiver could be small enough to hide in a lapel pin.

The agent with the gun shoved the person he had been talking to out of the way and studied the crowd, looking for someone else to question.

15

WAYNE CONCENTRATED SO hard on driving the car without running up on the sidewalk that he had no time to be scared. He turned corners when Ishihara suggested he do so, and could slow down enough not to make the tires squeal. However, Ishihara still had to tell him when to shift gears and to help him move the gearshift while he depressed the clutch. If Ishihara did not tell him to turn, Wayne simply drove straight down the dark streets.

“I am surprised,” said Ishihara. “I have continued to monitor NKVD radio traffic. No alert has gone out for the NKVD to search for this car.”

“No alert has gone out? Why not?”

“I can only conclude that agents Konev and Raskov have not yet reported that we stole their car.”

“Really? They’ve had plenty of time.”

“I would have thought so.”

Wayne grinned. “Of course, their radio is in this car. I guess they’d have to look for a phone.”

“Yes,” said Ishihara. “This means we are free to keep this car for now. We are in no danger of a specific search by the NKVD at large until they report its theft.”

“Well, that’s good. At least the heater works.” Wayne thought a moment. “But why haven’t those two agents reported that we took their car?”

“I do not know. Perhaps they have had difficulty locating a telephone.”

“Don’t they have a lot of authority, though? They could just commandeer a phone, couldn’t they?”

“Maybe at this hour, they have literally not found one available.”

“Can’t they just pound on someone’s door to get a phone if they really want to? The way they knocked on those doors to the public housing in the middle of the night?”

“I believe you are correct, to the limit of my knowledge,” said Ishihara.

“So why haven’t they reported in?”

“I do not know,” said Ishihara. “We could turn on the receiver in this car for you to hear, if you understood Russian.”

“I wish I did.” The mystery made Wayne uncomfortable, even though it seemed to be to their advantage at the moment. “Well, where are we going?”

“We must find you shelter for the night,” said Ishihara. “It has been a long night so far. We cannot risk your sleeping in this vehicle, for fear the report will be made and the search will begin.”

“Is there anything we can do about finding MC 4? While we still have this car?”

“My only suggestion is that we search through crowds, especially where a First Law imperative might draw MC 4 to take action.”

“I guess that won’t apply in the middle of the night when the city’s asleep.”

“I estimate you are correct.”

“Okay.” Wayne shrugged. “So, what should we do to find shelter, then?”

“A couple of blocks from where we took the car, I saw another large building that may house displaced citizens. My hearing told me that many people were sleeping inside. I shall direct you back there and we shall go to the door.”

“I’m ready when you are.”

Wayne drove according to Ishihara’s directions. They slowly made their way back to the neighborhood where they had begun. As Wayne recognized one of the blocks, he started looking for pedestrians.

“What if they’re still here? Hunter and those agents? We don’t want them to see us again.”

“I have been looking for any sign of them. I have not seen any. The warehouse from which we took the car is still out of sight.”

“How close to it are we going to get?”

“No closer than this. Turn left in the alley just ahead of us and stop the car at the right curb.”

“All right.”

Wayne turned left and braked nearly to a stop. The car jerked to a sudden halt and the engine died. He shrugged at Ishihara. “Sorry.”

“I should have told you to depress the clutch as we stopped,” said Ishihara. “Never mind that now. We will get out and knock on the door.”

Wayne grabbed his bundled cloak and followed Ishihara around the corner. At least their overcoats hid their tunics and leggings. They approached a very large building, barely visible in the faint moonlight. Ishihara led him to the front door and knocked.

At first nothing happened. Ishihara knocked several more times. Finally, Wayne heard footsteps and the door creaked open slightly. An elderly woman with long white hair falling about her shoulders looked out.

“Please, comrade,” said Ishihara. “We have been turned away from many places tonight. We only need a small space in which to sleep.”

Yawning, the woman glanced at both of them. Then she nodded. She stepped back and opened the door.

Wayne followed Ishihara inside, relieved to feel the warmth. The woman switched on a small lamp. In the light it threw, Wayne could see that sleeping people filled the floor. A few lying within the range of the lamp stirred slightly; otherwise, the light did not disturb anyone.

The woman gestured vaguely toward the room at large; apparently she was telling them to find their own places. Then she stood next to the lamp, waiting for them to do so before turning it off again. Ishihara found a small spot for them along one wall. They sat down there, and Wayne rolled up in his cloak. A moment later, the woman turned out the light.

Hunter’s glimpse of Wayne and Ishihara had been brief and limited by the shadows, but it had been enough to identify them. The agents who had just taken him into custody had been furious. While one held Hunter’s arm, the other had shouted in rage, stomping his feet and firing a warning shot into the air after the departing vehicle. During that same few seconds, Steve had radioed Hunter from just inside the building.

As the two agents had argued with each other, Hunter had overheard their names. Agent Raskov, the angrier one, had wanted to go back inside and use the warehouse telephone to report the theft of the car. However, Agent Konev had absolutely forbade it on the grounds that they would look bad, even incompetent, to the people inside. Hunter observed that Agent Konev was the senior partner, with the authority to make the final decision.

Since that argument, the two agents had been marching Hunter up the street between them. Each one held one of his arms and walked in silence. Hunter was not certain if they had a clear plan themselves. He did understand Agent Konev’s position, however. When a government functioned by terrorizing its own citizens, its agents could only lose power by revealing their personal fallibility.

At any time, of course, Hunter could pull away from them by brute force. He did not want to do that except in an emergency. If possible, he wanted to satisfy the NKVD agents that he was no threat and depart from them on good terms. Otherwise, the team would remain fugitives from the NKVD for the rest of their time here. That could only damage their chances of finding MC 4.

“All right, hold it.” Agent Raskov brought them to a stop. “Are we going to walk all night? Even if we don’t report to the head office that the car was stolen, surely we can call someone for help.”

“Who?” Agent Konev demanded gruffly. “How many of our fellow agents want to see us reassigned, so they could move up into our places? All they need is something to use against us. We don’t dare turn to any of them.”

“Not every colleague wants our jobs. What about the two guys you worked with last year?”

“Hah! They would love to see us both in Siberian labor camps, comrade.”

“Well, even if we walk all the way to the office, someone will notice our car is not there — in the morning, after daylight.” Agent Raskov sighed. “I’m very tired.”

“You may interrogate me here,” said Hunter. “If it would be more convenient.”

“Shut up,” said Agent Konev.

Hunter saw that he was not particularly angry. Since Hunter had been docile to this point, and both agents had handguns, he had not challenged their control of the situation. He decided to risk speaking again.

“Why did you take me?”

“I just told you —” Agent Konev started.

“Don’t waste your breath on him,” Agent Raskov interrupted. “What are we going to do?”

“Have you been influenced by Wayne Nystrom and Mr. Ishihara?” Hunter spoke in a calm, unemotional tone. He had no idea, of course, if they had given their right names.

Both men turned to him in surprise.

“What have they told you?” Hunter asked.

“Shut up,” Agent Konev repeated. He was still studying Hunter’s face, however, with new interest.

“You know them personally?” Agent Raskov asked.

“Yes, I do,” said Hunter. “I suspect they are using you for their own ends.”

“What does that mean?” Agent Konev demanded.

“I think it’s obvious,” said Agent Raskov. “We’ve been duped, comrade. They sent us on a diversionary chase and stole our vehicle. Maybe Hunter, here, is not at all that they claimed he was.”

“Well, maybe he is. We certainly can’t afford to make another blunder tonight.”

“Granted,” said Agent Raskov. “Let’s go into an apartment building and start knocking on doors. Sooner or later, we’ll find someone who has a telephone. We don’t have to give any explanations about our car.”

“All right,” Agent Konev said wearily. “We must get to work on this. I agree.”

Hunter patiently allowed them to take him wherever they wished. They marched him to the front of a darkened apartment building, where Agent Raskov remained out on the sidewalk with him. Agent Konev pounded on the locked front door, waited, and then hammered on it again. The sound was loud on the quiet street. Finally someone opened it. Agent Konev identified himself and was allowed inside.

Hunter waited only six minutes with Agent Raskov before Agent Konev came back out of the building.

“Did you find a phone?” Agent Raskov asked.

“Yes.” Agent Konev nodded grimly. “I did not explain, not yet.”

“We will have to explain soon. Who else was on duty? Who is coming to get us, comrade?”

“The night clerk is driving out.”

“Oh, young Mikhail? At least he will keep his mouth shut.” Agent Raskov let out a long sigh.

“Yes, he will.”

They waited out on the street for only about ten minutes before a car drew up to the curb. Hunter allowed himself to be directed into the backseat between the two agents. No one spoke as they rode away.

The car parked behind a large building. Hunter recognized it as the same one from which he had rescued Judy. He was taken into an unmarked back door. Inside, he found himself at the opposite end of the same hallway where he had bluffed his way in to get Judy.

For a few minutes, the agents locked him up alone in an interrogation room. It was similar to the one in which Judy had been held, with a table, a single lamp, and several chairs. The walls had no windows. A steam radiator against one wall provided some heat. He sat down in a chair.

When the door opened, his two hosts came in, now without their overcoats, and shut it. They sat down across the table from him, studying him grimly. He waited for them to speak.

“Who are you, Hunter? Where did you come from?” Agent Konev looked him in the eye.

“I was a farm worker west of Moscow until the Germans came. Then I fled into the city with everyone else.” By now, using their own speech as a model, Hunter had polished and perfected his Russian accent and colloquialisms. They would not pick out flaws in his speech.

“What was the name of your farm?”

Hunter did not know of one. He shrugged. “We just called it ‘the farm.’”

Agent Konev frowned deeply. “You don’t know the name of the place were you worked?”

“We never paid much attention.”

“I say you are a German spy.”

Hunter remained silent. That was probably what Wayne Nystrom had told them. Based on what Judy had told him about the NKVD, he now expected much worse treatment — maybe physical torture and an attempt to imprison him in a labor camp.

“What is your mission here?” Agent Raskov spoke this time. “Who is your contact?”

Hunter considered his options. Of course, he could withstand substantially greater torture than a human, but he could not afford to have his captors find that out. In any case, the Third Law required that he not allow harm to come to himself.

“Speak, Hunter!” Agent Konev shouted. “Your silence proves your guilt! Now answer us!”

Since Hunter had given Steve the belt unit to trigger the sphere back in Room F-12, Hunter could only escape by means of his own personal resources. That would endanger the welfare of his whole team. He still did not want to take that step.

Suddenly Agent Konev shot up out of his chair and punched Hunter across the table, striking him in the face. Hunter’s reflexes gave him plenty of time to see it coming, and he rocked back slightly with the blow. He carefully sustained much of the punch and allowed himself to fall from his chair to the floor, to give the man some satisfaction.

As Hunter slowly got to his feet, both agents moved around the end of the table. Agent Raskov grabbed Hunter under his arms and hoisted him up. At the same time, Agent Konev slammed his fist into Hunter’s abdomen. As before, Hunter reacted the way he judged a human would, doubling forward and then falling to his knees, pulling free of Agent Raskov’s grasp.

“Let him think about it,” said Agent Raskov.

“He needs more convincing, comrade — and this is only the beginning!” Agent Konev struck Hunter in the head with his knee, almost casually.

Hunter obligingly fell over on the floor. He could see only their lower legs and feet now.

“It’s been a long night,” said Agent Raskov. “At least, let’s discuss it outside. Come.”

“All right.” Agent Konev kicked Hunter with one foot as a parting shot and switched off the light.

Hunter remained motionless until they had left. The door closed behind them firmly and the lock snapped into place. Then Hunter stood up.

The room was completely dark except for the strip of indirect light entering under the door from the hall. The only possible exit for Hunter was the door. Unless he chose to use it, he could do nothing but wait.

16

THE NEXT MORNING, Steve sat with Judy and Jane in their corner of the warehouse with their bowls of hot gruel.

“What are we going to do?” Jane asked. “Are we joining the work brigade today, or what?”

“It’s the best way to blend in,” said Steve. “If we leave, we might not be welcome back. Judy, what do you think?”

“What’s the point of joining the work brigade? Just to wait till Hunter comes back?”

“Yeah, exactly.” Steve paused to eat. “If we start running around Moscow on our own, it’ll be even harder for him to find us.”

“You could … you know.” Jane tapped her lapel pin. “If we call him after we leave here, it won’t endanger these people again.”

.” But we’ll be stuck with nowhere to go tonight,” said Steve. “I think our best bet now is to stay with the work brigade and wait for Hunter to come back.”

“I’m afraid we’ll wait forever,” said Judy. “What if something permanent happens to him? We’ll just be sitting around.”

“Let’s give him another day, at least,” said Steve. “That’s not very long.”

“I agree,” said Jane. “If he has to sneak away instead of break out, a day isn’t too long to wait.”

“So I’m outvoted,” said Judy, with a sigh. “All right. I guess it won’t hurt a historian to go out with a work brigade and dig ditches for a day. Maybe I’ll learn something useful out there.”

Ishihara lay motionless on the hard, cold floor, conserving his energy. Wayne slept soundly, using his cloak for padding. In the morning, the sounds of other people rising and talking awakened Wayne. Stretching, he looked around and then sat up.

“Are you well?” Ishihara asked quietly. He sat up, also.

“Uh, yeah. It was kind of a short night, though. How long was I asleep?”

“Six hours and four minutes. Well short of the eight hours recommended for ideal human rest.”

“It’ll do.”

“I see some people in the front are preparing large vats of hot cereal. We shall be fed.”

“Good. I’m hungry.” Wayne looked around. “What kind of a place is this?”

Ishihara glanced about the room. “If you look carefully, you can see disconnected cables and holes in the floor where machinery was once bolted down.”

“Yeah, I see. What does that mean?”

“I believe this was previously a factory. Now all the industrial machinery has been hauled away.”

“Why? Something to do with the war?”

“Yes. I think they carried it away from the advancing Germans.”

“In case Moscow is captured?”

“Yes, and also to avoid having it bombed.”

Ishihara looked around at the crowd, which consisted mostly of women and children. A small number of elderly men were scattered through it. Some people were getting in line for the rest rooms and for breakfast.

“What do they all do in the daytime?” Wayne asked. “Do they have jobs to go to?”

“I have been listening to people talk. This is a work brigade. After breakfast, trucks will take everyone outside Moscow to dig ditches.”

“We don’t want to waste any time doing that.”

“No. However, before we leave, I suggest you eat. We may have trouble finding other food today.”

“Yeah.”

Ishihara waited where he was as Wayne got in line for the rest room. By the time he had joined the line for breakfast, most people already had their food. He brought his back to Ishihara and started eating.

“I have continued to monitor the NKVD radio traffic,” said Ishihara.

“I guess the car must have been reported stolen by now,” said Wayne.

“No, not yet,” said Ishihara. “Not yet?”

“We still have some time in which we can use the car,” said Ishihara. “At least as long as it still has fuel. We should use it while we can.”

“We’ll use it in more than one way,” said Wayne. “It will lend us an air of authority, won’t it? Maybe we can get some information from the guys up at the front table.”

“I think I understand what you mean,” said Ishihara. “More play-acting?”

“Right,” said Wayne. “But you’ll have to do the talking, of course. And you’ll have to explain why a couple of important people came begging for places to sleep in the middle of the night.”

When Wayne had finished eating, he rolled up his cloak and walked with Ishihara up to the front. Ishihara observed the women ladling out hot cereal and the two men standing by the door and decided to approach the men. He stood up straight and assumed a confident demeanor.

“Who is in charge here?” Ishihara asked.

The two men glanced at him in surprise.

“I am the commissar of this facility,” said one. He was a blond man of medium height, about thirty years old. “I have not seen you before, comrades. When did you arrive?”

“We came in late last night,” said Ishihara. “We are in pursuit of an enemy agent.”

The commissar’s eyes widened. “You are? Here?”

“No, no. I have not seen him here.” Ishihara described MC 4. “Have you seen anyone of this description?”

“No,” said the commissar thoughtfully. “Of course, many people are coming and going these days.” He glanced at his partner, who also shook his head. Then the commissar looked back and forth between Wayne and Ishihara. “You are … NKVD?”

“We are working in cooperation with them,” Ishihara said carefully.

“In cooperation with them? What does this mean? May we see your badges?”

Ishihara had worried about this moment. No one had demanded the real agents’ badges, but they had expressed their authority with guns and bluster. Ishihara drew himself up stiffly, hoping to bluff the commissar. “You question our authority?”

“Well … meaning no disrespect.” The commissar hesitated. “I am Boris Popov, comrade. Who are you?”

“We must be on our way, comrade.” Ishihara turned abruptly and walked past him, out the door. His hearing detected Wayne’s footsteps right behind him. However, he also heard the commissar and his partner following Wayne out the door.

Ishihara did not look back, feeling that his bluff would work better if he showed no concern over the commissar’s attention. He led Wayne at a brisk stride down the sidewalk in the morning light and turned at the alley. The commissar’s footsteps stopped uncertainly just outside the door.

In the alley, out of sight, Ishihara got into the driver’s side. He closed the door and quickly leaned down to pull some of the wires under the dashboard out where he could see them.

“Aren’t we going to start the car the same way?” Wayne asked. “I can steer while you push, but I can’t push as hard as you can if you’re the one who’s steering.”

“We cannot convince anyone this car is ours if they see us start the engine that way,” said Ishihara. “Get in on the passenger side.”

“Okay — but what are you doing?”

“The key to the ignition must allow some sort of electrical connection to be made that starts the engine. If I select the correct wires, then I can make the same connection. I think I have them. Please get in.”

“Yeah, okay, okay.” Wayne hurried around to the other side and slid inside, slamming the door.

Ishihara had carefully stripped the insulation from a couple of wires. He touched the bare metal together and heard the starter whine. When he gave the engine gas, it started up. He shut his own door and backed out of the alley.

“Wow, not bad,” said Wayne. “I understand how a robot works, but figuring out these primitive machines at a glance, without a design to go by — forget it.”

“Thank you,” said Ishihara, stopping in the street and shifting into first gear. “Now we must drive past the commissar so that he can see us driving away.”

Ishihara kept his head straight as he drove past the front door of the converted factory, still pretending to have no concern over the commissar and his partner. His peripheral vision, however, told him that both men were still standing there watching them. They did not react outwardly.

“What do you think?” Wayne asked. “Did we bluff them or are they suspicious?”

“I do not know,” said Ishihara. “Cars appear to be fairly rare here, so our possession of one is a powerful symbol. However, they are probably still somewhat suspicious.”

“Well — you still haven’t heard any NKVD alert for finding this car?”

“Not yet.”

“That’s great. Maybe we can close in on MC 4 before they do. Where shall we look?”

“I suggest factories and military posts. The First Law will drive him to participate with the local people in ways that might help them.”

“Okay. How do we find places like that?”

“Big smokestacks can take us to factories that are still functioning.”

“For the military, I guess we have to drive back out to the front, if we have enough fuel.”

“Yes.”

“You’re driving. Take us where you think we’ll have the best chance to find him.”

Hunter remained locked in the room in darkness. His internal clock kept him aware of the passing time. The sounds of voices and footsteps down the hall told him when the day shift arrived for work. He waited patiently, uncertain of what he wanted to do.

Just before noon, two uniformed guards came into the room. Without a word, they took his arms and escorted him out into the hall. At the end of the hall, they took him down a staircase. In the basement of the building, they placed him in a large barred cell with a crowd of other prisoners.

As the metal door clanged shut behind him, he turned to look at the other prisoners. He estimated that he was sharing space with about sixty other grown men of varying ages. Most sat on the cold floor; some had stretched out and a few remained on their feet, leaning against the walls or the bars in the front of the cell. They were dressed in ordinary street clothes. As they looked back at him cautiously, no one spoke.

Hunter knew that the NKVD was primarily concerned with security risks right now, not petty criminals. His companions down here were almost certainly political prisoners on their way to labor camps in Siberia. He felt an immediate urge from the First Law to help them, to save them somehow. Of course, he knew he could not without risking a significant change to history.

Also, he knew that enough contradictory pressure from the First Law could neutralize him completely.

Wayne noticed that Ishihara was pulling the car over to the curb. They had just spoken to their fourth factory commissar. Each one seemed to realize that their car signified government power; they had all been very cooperative. However, neither Wayne nor Ishihara had seen any sign of MC 4, nor had anyone they questioned.

“Why are we stopping?” Wayne asked.

“The car theft has finally been reported,” said Ishihara. “We must decide what to do now.”

Wayne grabbed the door handle. “Well, let’s get going! Come on!”

“Immediate flight is not necessary,” said Ishihara calmly. “The description of the car and the plate number have been announced to agents at large over the NKVD radio band, but so far no one has actually reported sighting us.”

“Let’s keep it that way,” said Wayne, grinning nervously. “I mean, why stay in this car until they do?”

“I am not suggesting we should. However, I judge that we have some time left to us. The NKVD does not seem to have reported the car theft to the regular city police.”

“Well — maybe they reported by phone. That’s why you didn’t hear it on their radio band.”

“I can monitor the city police band, as well. They still have not reported this theft.”

“Yeah, I see. What do you think — maybe the NKVD doesn’t want to admit it could happen to them?”

“I believe this is the case. They will want to maintain the image of the NKVD as all-powerful.”

“What do you suggest we do now?”

“Maybe we should approach a military installation —” Ishihara stopped suddenly.

“What’s wrong?”

Ishihara held up his hand for Wayne to wait.

Relieved that Ishihara had not malfunctioned in some way, Wayne waited, watching him.

Ishihara turned to him. “The NKVD has report ed a sighting of someone of MC 4’s description.” Ishihara pulled the car away from the curb and drove down the street.

“Oh, yeah! I forgot — Raskov and Konev are still looking for him, too. Where is he?”

“He was originally reported sleeping in a schoolhouse that had been used for housing displaced citizens. Everyone there is in a work brigade that digs ditches every day.”

“You know where?”

“Yes. I have the same directions that were just given to the other NKVD agents.”

“Raskov and Konev might be there. They’ll recognize us when we drive up.”

“As we approach, we can decide how to proceed. In the meantime, I shall continue to monitor the radio band. They will not be able to communicate over it without letting us hear the message, too.”

“We’re driving right into the lion’s den,” said Wayne. “But if that’s where MC 4 is, that’s where we have to go.”

17

STEVE, JUDY, AND Jane joined the work brigade for the day. They rode out to the antitank ditches with everyone else and spent the morning digging together. They moved far enough from the other workers to talk among themselves privately, but Steve did not call Hunter again. He knew that Hunter would not try to contact him, and that left him undecided about what to do.

At midday, they got in line with the others for lunch. After they received hard rolls and bowls of a thin vegetable soup, they sat down to eat by themselves on the top edge of the ditch. The other workers sat with their own friends.

“Have you looked up the ditch that way at all?” Jane pointed.

“Hm?” Judy turned, her mouth full.

“There’s a guy up there who’s small enough to be MC 4. I saw him just now.”

“Really?” Steve tore off a piece of a hard roll. “There must be hundreds of people in the ditch all around us. Where is he?”

“Right now, he’s lost in the crowd,” said Jane, leaning to her right as she tried to see him again. “And he was in the distance, almost out of sight.”

“I don’t see him, either,” said Judy, leaning the other way to look.

“How well did you see him?” Steve asked. “I mean, are you sure it was MC 4?” He looked in disgust at his bowl of watery soup.

“Well, no. But he was dressed poorly; his coat was too big and one sleeve was tom.”

“Like he might have picked up cast-off clothing from somewhere,” said Steve.

“That’s right.”

“What was he doing?” Judy asked.

“He was digging like everyone else.” Jane was still looking up the long ditch, but she shook her head. “I don’t see him now.”

“Judy,” said Steve. “What would happen if we went to look for him?”

“I don’t think we should. These brigades are rigidly organized.”

“What would happen to us?” Jane asked.

“I don’t know. But I don’t see anybody walking around socializing.” Judy lowered her voice. “It’s hard to convey just how oppressive the Communist Party is during this era. Even the military units have party members watching over the ideological purity of everyone. And, of course, they can summon the NKVD at any time to take away dissidents, real or imagined. The same is true right here.”

“I’m convinced,” said Steve. “We don’t want to attract attention to ourselves. Without Hunter here, I don’t want to take any unnecessary risks.”

“Especially since that guy might just be someone else,” said Jane. “I only got a glimpse.”

“Let’s just keep looking from here for now,” said Steve. “If he does look like MC 4, then at the end of the day, maybe we can see which truck he gets on. That will help us find him later tonight.”

“Good,” said Judy.

Steve thought a moment. “What are the chances that we would just run into him like this? Doesn’t that seem farfetched to you?”

“I suppose it does seem like a coincidence,” said Judy.

“It’s not just pure chance,” said Jane. “Remember, Hunter specifically identified a certain area of Moscow where he expected MC 4 to appear. Our warehouse is nearby.”

“That’s right,” said Judy. “And all the displaced citizens who are not working at something more essential are being drafted into the work brigades.”

“Exactly,” said Jane. “So his presence here, in a brigade from the same neighborhood as our warehouse, is not really too unlikely.”

Steve nodded, looking through the crowd in the distance again. “Maybe we have a chance, then.”

Ishihara drove while Wayne sat rigidly next to him. Though Wayne had to be excited by the prospect of finding MC 4, a glance at him told Ishihara that his human companion was frightened by the fact that other NKVD agents were going to the same location. So far, they had hardly even left the outskirts of Moscow.

“We’re leaving the city,” Wayne said anxiously. “What’s our route?”

“I have been considering this,” said Ishihara. “From what I have been able to observe and overhear on our travels so far, the Soviet lines are positioned mainly to the north of Moscow. I believe they are poised to make a flank attack on the Germans when and if the Germans advance eastward on the city. The antitank ditches are being dug straight west of Moscow, but still have military patrols behind them.”

“And that’s where we’re headed.”

“Yes.” Ishihara drove a varied pattern through the west side of Moscow. Finally he found a well-used, unpaved road leading out of the city. They drove in silence.

After the midday break, Judy picked up her shovel and looked again where Jane might have seen MC 4. Then as Judy resumed digging, she worked her way toward a middle-aged woman in her own brigade. Steve glanced at her but merely nodded, trusting her to be careful.

Casually, keeping her head down while she continued to dig, Judy spoke quietly to the other woman.

“Where is that other brigade from? Do you know?”

“What? Which one?”

“The one working right next to us.”

The woman looked up at her suspiciously. She was missing a couple of lower teeth. “Why?”

“Well …” Judy smiled and shrugged in what she hoped was an embarrassed manner. “There is a man over there I would like to meet.”

“Ah!” The woman laughed. “Ah, yes, I see. Well, they spend their nights in that school near us. You know the one, that was bombed. They had to fix up the roof.”

“Uh — yes. It’s down the block from us?” Judy did not want to admit how little she knew.

“No, no. It’s on the next block.”

“East of us?”

“No, my dear. North.”

“Oh, yes. I’m sorry.”

The woman looked over toward the other brigade. “So which one is he?”

“Well … I don’t see him right now. He’s a rather short fellow.”

“Short?” She laughed, shaking her head. “Ah, you’re so silly.”

They went on digging. Gradually, Judy worked her way back to Steve and Jane. When they were far enough from the others not to be overheard, she told them what she had learned.

“I just wish we could get a good look at him,” said Steve. “If we knew for sure it was MC 4, we could make some definite plans. Maybe we could even grab him, take him back, and then return for Hunter.”

“Really?” Jane asked. “You’d do that?”

Steve grimaced. “I wouldn’t like it much. It’s a possibility, but I’m getting worried about Hunter.”

Eventually, Ishihara could see the military patrols ahead of them on the rolling steppe. Sentries blocked the road. It was 2:37 P.M.

“Have you decided what you’re going to say to them?” Wayne asked.

“I shall say something similar to what we said to the commissar in the factory.”

Ishihara slowed the car as they approached the checkpoint. Wayne stiffened visibly in his seat. Ishihara rolled down his window, preparing to speak to the sentries.

Without a word, a uniformed sentry nodded grimly and waved them through the checkpoint. Wayne glanced at Ishihara in shock. Ishihara showed no sign of surprise as he nodded back and drove past them.

“This is really easy,” said Wayne, with a sudden laugh. “This NKVD car makes all the difference, doesn’t it?”

“I believe part of the reason is up ahead,” said Ishihara, pointing. Ahead of them on the same road, another car similar to their own was just moving out of sight in the distance. Ishihara slowed down a little.

Wayne looked. “What do you mean?”

“I suppose that the agents in that car explained what their business was out this way,” said Ishihara. “The sentries just assumed we were with them. That is why they felt no need to question us. Even in the military, no one in this society wants trouble with the NKVD.”

“But now we have to worry about those other agents,” said Wayne.

“I have already slowed down to let them move away from us,” said Ishihara.

“What if they saw us?”

“If we find them waiting, I shall turn around the car and we shall flee. However, I do not expect that. I believe that they will be searching for MC 4, just as we are, without great concern for us.”

“But you said that the theft of our car has been reported now. Why wouldn’t they check us out?”

“Maybe they will,” said Ishihara. “However, they would not expect the car thieves to be following them. Most likely, they expect us to flee at the very sight of another NKVD car. Remember that the alert to find MC 4 here went out to all the NKVD cars. The agents who come here will expect to see each other near the ditches.”

“I hope you’re right,” Wayne muttered quietly.

“I expect so.”

Ishihara drove over the next slight rise in the ground. Ahead of them, down a long but very gentle slope, work brigades dug ditches with shovels. The NKVD car ahead of them had turned right and stopped. Two agents had just left the car and were walking toward the nearest work brigade.

Next to him, Ishihara saw Wayne slide down in his seat, covering the side of his face with one hand.

Instead of continuing straight down the slope, which would have taken them close to the NKVD agents, Ishihara turned at an angle. He began driving left down the slope, leaving the road. One of the NKVD agents glanced back over his shoulder at the sound of their car. Then he turned back to his business at hand, uninterested in them.

“Okay so far,” Wayne muttered.

Ishihara took the car down to the ruts that ran behind the ditch. The tracks of large truck tires filled the ruts. They had spontaneously carved a rough service road simply by driving up and down here every day.

“I still hear nothing concerning us on the NKVD radio band,” said Ishihara.

“Good.” Wayne sighed. Then he looked back over his shoulder. “Those agents are out of sight now. You want me to drive? Then you can scan the workers for MC 4.”

“Excellent.”

They traded places and Wayne drove slowly down the rough road. When Ishihara instructed him to slow down or stop, he did, always nervously looking around for more NKVD cars. Gradually, they moved down the length of the ditch as Ishihara searched the work brigades. The ditch was full of people digging up and down its entire length.

“Didn’t the alert identify which work brigade MC 4 was in?” Wayne asked.

“No. It only gave this general vicinity.”

“You could radio MC 4 directly,” said Wayne. “And tell him that we are from his own time.”

“That would merely alert him to the pursuit,” said Ishihara. “He would flee.”

“That’s what I mean,” said Wayne. “We might flush him out that way.”

“Ah, I understand. You mean, instead of remaining camouflaged, he would reveal himself by running away.”

“Maybe. What do you think?”

“It could work if he is in our sight,” said Ishihara. “If he is too far ahead of us, or if he was in the other direction when we turned left, then we would not see him.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“These ditches are very long,” said Ishihara, looking ahead. “To protect Moscow from attack, they must be many kilometers long. We have many workers to consider.”

“This is as close as we’ve come so far,” said Wayne, shrugging. “Besides, I’m really getting the feel of how to drive this car now.” He grinned wryly.

They continued their slow progress down the length of the ditch. The sun was low over the horizon when Ishihara heard the rumble of large trucks behind them, still in the distance. He did not bother to turn and look.

“Looks like quitting time,” said Wayne, glancing into the rearview mirror. “Here come the trucks to take people home.”

A familiar shape in the distance, among the workers, momentarily slipped into Ishihara’s vision and then disappeared again. “Stop,” Ishihara said sharply.

Wayne hit the brake and the clutch quickly. “What’s wrong? I don’t think the truck drivers will care what we’re doing here.”

“No, that is not the reason. I saw MC 4.”

“What? Where?” Wayne stopped the car and leaned toward Ishihara to look.

Ishihara pointed. “I saw him there, but he is not visible now. He is lost in the crowd.”

“Did he run away?”

“I do not believe so. He has no way of knowing our identities and was not looking toward us.”

Near them, the workers had also seen the trucks coming. They were picking up their shovels wearily and climbing out of the ditch. The crowd was dense, however, and Wayne could not see MC 4 anywhere.

“Maybe we can have him brought to us,” said Ishihara. “We do not have to chase him ourselves.” He got out of the car and slammed the door.

Wayne got out and hurried around the car to join him. Ishihara saw a man approaching him and waited for him with an arrogant expression. The man smiled nervously.

“Can I help you, comrade?” His voice quivered slightly.

“NKVD,” Ishihara said imperiously. “Do you know the code name MC 4?”

“Mm, no, I don’t.” He shook his head tightly. “I really don’t.”

Ishihara described MC 4.

“Yes, I remember seeing him. He just joined us a few days ago. A real little guy.” The man nodded vigorously.

“Have some people bring this man to me immediately. Do not let him escape.”

“Yes, comrade.” The man hurried back down toward the ditch.

Wayne, next to Ishihara, let out a long breath. “Is he going to help?”

“Yes,” said Ishihara. Then his internal receiver picked up another alert on the NKVD radio band. They had been spotted standing outside the car by a pair of agents who did not recognize them. Those agents were on their way for a closer look.

“We must go,” said Ishihara, turning and looking into the distance. In the middle of the line of trucks, he saw another NKVD car. It was trying to get around the trucks in front of it, but the slope was too rough in that spot for it to pass them. “Get in the car and start it. Wait for me. Now.”

Wayne hurried back to the car.

Ishihara ran down the slope after the man he had just sent to find MC 4. “Comrade, wait.”

“Huh? What is it?”

“An emergency has arisen. Tell no one about this man called MC 4. I repeat — no one.”

“All right.”

“Where does this work brigade spend the night?” Ishihara asked quickly.

The man gave him an address.

Ishihara ran back up to the driver’s side of the car. Taking the hint, Wayne slid quickly over to the passenger side. The driver of the other NKVD car honked his horn and waved for the trucks to move out of his way. When the truck drivers could, they slowly worked their way to the side on the uneven terrain.

“It may be a rough ride,” said Ishihara. “Hang on. I will search for a place where we can turn back toward Moscow.” He took the car forward with a jerk. Some distance behind them, the other NKVD car still honked angrily at the trucks in its way.

“What if they have us surrounded?” Wayne asked frantically. “How do we know which way to go?”

“Only one car has reported sighting us so far,” said Ishihara. “I do not believe they saw the license plate on this car. They saw us standing outside the car and must have had our personal descriptions.”

Wayne nodded.

Ishihara gripped the wheel hard and drove forward, glancing in the mirror. The NKVD car had finally passed the trucks and was speeding toward them.

18

STEVE SHOVELED IN silence for the rest of the afternoon. He finally decided to call Hunter again on the ride home, after they had entered Moscow again. Even when the call was intercepted, as he was certain it would be, the movement of the truck through city streets would make locating the transmitter impossible. The NKVD would not be able to focus on a single truck and then hassle the people in his work brigade again. He would just have to be careful about exactly what he said.

The trucks came to pick them up when the sun was low in the west. All the workers began climbing wearily out of the ditches and plodding toward the trucks. Steve glanced around for Jane, then saw Judy quickly working her way toward the neighboring work brigade.

“Come on.” Steve grabbed Jane’s arm and pulled her after him. He tried to follow Judy, but she had a substantial head start. In the crowd of people moving toward the trucks, the only way he could catch her was to run and dart through the crowd, drawing everyone’s attention.

“What’s she doing?” Jane asked quietly, hurrying along next to him. “Did she tell you?”

“No, but I’m sure she wants to ride back with the other brigade.”

“We’ll never catch her. She’s already climbing into one of the trucks.” Jane stopped.

“I didn’t think they’d let her on the wrong truck,” said Steve, reluctantly pulling up, also. “She said everything was so well organized.”

“I guess she got herself lost in the crowd,” said Jane. “Everybody’s exhausted, including the guys who watch over the work brigades.”

“At least she looks the part enough to do that,” said Steve, with a tired grin. “I couldn’t.”

“We better get on our own truck,” said Jane. “Before it leaves without us.”

“Come on.” Steve glanced one more time at Judy, who smiled at them from the back of the truck she had mounted. He hoped she knew what she was doing. They could not call each other without risking being overheard by locals. At least for now, she was on her own.

Hunter spent the day quietly in the prisoner pen. Very few people spoke and he did not initiate conversation with anyone. They had been fed a tasteless gruel in the middle of the afternoon. Otherwise, the guards merely walked through the corridor on patrol once every hour.

As the hours passed, Hunter considered his situation. At first he expected that the NKVD would eventually take him out and question him further. The additional contact would have brought him new data and allowed him to make more judgments about how to free himself.

However, that had not happened. During the course of the day the NKVD had shown no interest in any of the prisoners. Now Hunter had to consider that perhaps the agents planned no further contact with any of them for a substantial period of time. Theoretically, they might all be shipped to another prison without any more interrogations.

The First Law pressed him internally to help these people. All of them were probably headed for either torture here or a slow death in the Siberian labor camps. Of course, his First Law imperative not to change history took precedence.

However, the internal stress was building. He remained in some danger of being neutralized by the conflict. Finally, of course, he was useless to his team while he simply sat in a cell. Late in the afternoon, he decided that he would have to take action to free himself.

The next time one of the guards came down the hall on his routine patrol, Hunter walked over to the bars. Every other prisoner in the pen was watching to see what he would do. No one spoke.

“I have changed my mind,” Hunter said loudly to the guard. “Tell the agents I have changed my mind.”

He could hear disapproving murmurs from the crowd behind him. The guard stopped, studying his face suspiciously. Then he came closer.

“You changed your mind?” The guard folded his arms. “About what?”

“I would like to speak to the agents who arrested me,” Hunter said calmly.

“Oh, would you?” The guard smiled grimly. “And why would they like to speak with you?”

“I did not answer their Questions previously. I am willing to do so now.” Hunter, of course, would have to improvise those answers. Right now, his focus was simply on getting out of this pen.

“Maybe you already had your chance.” The guard snickered. “Why don’t I just let you rot right here? Or maybe I’ll just let you freeze. Where you’re going, that will be easy.” He laughed harshly.

Hunter realized suddenly that the guard was angling for a bribe of some kind. Other prisoners might, from time to time, be able to arrange a bribe through family members or friends. Hunter did not have that choice.

“The agents will be very grateful when they hear what I have to say,” said Hunter. “They will appreciate the guard who brought me to them.”

“Yeah? How do I know that?”

“I have information about the Germans,” said Hunter. “If you do not report that I am willing to cooperate, then one of the guards on another shift will. He will get the credit. Those agents will not like hearing that you delayed my information from reaching them.”

The guard studied him without speaking.

Hunter forced himself to smile. “Maybe you will join me in here, comrade.”

“The Germans,” the guard said to himself, uncertainly. He looked at Hunter without speaking.

“Let him out,” called one of the other prisoners. He was followed by a few calls of agreement from others.

Most of the prisoners remained absolutely silent.

“Well, why didn’t you say this was about the war?” The guard drew himself up. “Of course I will speak to the agents for you. This is a matter of patriotism.”

Ishihara drove as fast as he dared, using all of his faculties to escape the NKVD car behind them. As they rode roughly over the open, frozen ground, Ishihara scanned the terrain with magnified vision. He picked out the smoothest pieces of ground, utilizing his precise eye-hand coordination to steer so that the tires would get the best traction and the clearest path. Gradually, he began to circle back toward the road they had taken from Moscow.

As Ishihara drove, he watched the pursuit car in the rearview mirror as much as he could. He observed that the human driver behind them was not handling the steering over open ground nearly as well. The NKVD agent was not able to hit the Quick turns, twists, and shifts of gears that Ishihara could maintain. As a result, the pursuit car bumped and bounced much more severely. Ishihara slowly gained ground, leaving the other car behind.

Behind them, the sun was already down. Through the waning light, he could barely see the unpaved road which he and Wayne had taken to reach the ditches. Some of the trucks carrying workers back to Moscow were visible on it, the beams of their headlights marking its path. Ishihara headed for the road.

Wayne turned to look over his shoulder at the car following them. “Finally! We’re leaving them behind now, aren’t we? You see that?”

“Yes.” Suddenly Ishihara picked up another communication from the car behind them to their colleagues. “They have realized it, too.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“Up to now, they had not called for help.”

“Really? Why not?” Wayne looked at him in surprise. “What’s going on now?”

“I believe they wanted to catch us and take all the credit for themselves. However, they just radioed our position and direction for the first time to the NKVD at large.”

“Oh, no!”

“Do not panic. The nearest NKVD cars which have responded are well behind us. They were spread out along the length of the ditches and have not returned to Moscow.”

“But Moscow must have plenty more agents! They’ll cut us off on our way back to the city.”

“They will try,” Ishihara said calmly. He knew that Wayne needed some reassurance. Since Ishihara did not have any good news for him, he tried to convey confidence through a calm and reassuring demeanor.

“But what are we going to do?” Wayne asked frantically. “I mean, at some point we’ll have to jump in time again. But I still hate to do that.”

“The trucks on the road haven’t answered by radio; I don’t think they have radios. I think we should be able to reach the edge of Moscow without being caught. At that point, we have a chance to get lost in the city.”

“But the whole NKVD will be coming for us now, won’t they?” Wayne looked behind him again.

“Yes, I expect so. Once we have eluded the immediate pursuit in Moscow, we shall have to plan on abandoning the car out of sight and escaping on foot.”

“Okay.” Wayne looked at him for a moment, a little calmer now. “Okay. Just tell me what to do.”

Ishihara decided not to tell Wayne at this time that he was not sure what to do. Leaving the car somewhere in Moscow was not enough. To escape the current pursuit effectively, without moving through time again, they required a crowd of people in which to lose themselves and shelter for the night.

By the time Ishihara reached the road, the NKVD car following them had fallen well behind. Its headlights bounced crazily in the darkness. Ahead of Ishihara and Wayne on the road, the trucks were roughly a half kilometer ahead.

Ishihara drove in silence, gradually catching up to the ponderous trucks. Since the car pursuing them would soon reach this road, too, and speed up, he passed the first truck. When he could, he passed the next one. Slowly and patiently, he moved to the front of the convoy and eventually faced an open road to Moscow.

In the distance behind them, he soon saw the headlights of the pursuit car swinging around the trucks, also. Soon they were in a simple race on the frozen, unpaved highway. Ishihara drove as fast as the car would safely go, still using the edge that his robotic skills and reflexes gave him. Slowly, they simply pulled away from the car behind them.

When Ishihara came to an intersecting road near the edge of Moscow, he slammed on the brakes and took the turn sharply. The tires squealed and Wayne hooked one arm over the back of his seat to steady himself.

“I apologize,” said Ishihara. “But from now on, we are in greater danger, as you mentioned earlier, of being surrounded by the NKVD.”

“We have to find a place to abandon the car,” said Wayne. “Right?”

“Perhaps not yet. I have the address of the work brigade in which MC 4 was working.”

“What? Why didn’t you tell me!” Wayne laughed suddenly, a little anxiously.

“I was concerned about escaping the pursuit,” said Ishihara. “If we were caught, I did not want to harm you by adding additional disappointment.”

“That changes everything! Let’s just go get him — if more NKVD guys don’t find us first.”

“We are on our way now,” said Ishihara. “I am taking an evasive route. Now that we have the complex of city streets in which to lose ourselves, I believe we have a good chance of success.”

“What about their radio communication — are they going to surround us or something?”

“They are trying already,” Ishihara said calmly. “The pursuit car has continued to radio ahead for help. However, as long as they use the radio to communicate and report their positions, I shall know where each of their cars is moving.”

Wayne nodded. “Okay. Good.”

Ishihara chose not to worry him further by telling him just how close the pursuit had become.

19

HUNTER REMAINED STANDING by the bars in the prison pen after the guard walked away. He kept his back to his fellow prisoners, hoping to avoid a confrontation. Many of them were muttering angrily among themselves about his willingness to cooperate.

A very few defended his choice to reveal information about the German enemy. He decided not to speak to any of them. As always, he feared that unnecessary interaction might lead to events that would be historically significant.

While Hunter waited for the guard to return and, he hoped, take him back upstairs, he also monitored the NKVD radio traffic. He heard the alerts go out to locate the stolen NKVD car. By now, the NKVD had confirmed to him that the stolen car was being driven by Wayne and Ishihara.

Hunter also noticed that an alert had gone out for someone of MC 4’s description. No word of his apprehension had been reported yet. Now Hunter was more eager than ever to escape from NKVD custody.

Finally the guard returned with a partner. Without a word, the guards unlocked the door and escorted Hunter back upstairs to the same interrogation room in which he had been held earlier. They seated him inside and looped handcuffs around a table leg before snapping them closed on his wrists. Then they left him alone again.

The room was reasonably warm, much more comfortable than the prison pen in the basement. The steam radiator was a luxury not wasted downstairs. Its occasional hissing was the only sound in the room.

Hunter felt more confident now, however. No matter what happened in this room, he could arrange his own escape without revealing any robotic abilities to the prisoners downstairs. Getting away was now just a matter of time.

More than two hours passed uneventfully. Hunter heard occasional footsteps and voices down the hall and elsewhere in the building, but he overheard nothing pertinent to him. As he continued to monitor the NKVD radio band, he followed the pursuit of the stolen car. He compared the information from the radio communication among agents and their dispatcher to the map of Moscow and outlying areas stored in his memory. As the pursuit continued, he followed the movements of the pursuit cars. He realized that Wayne and Ishihara were working their way back to the neighborhood where the public housing was concentrated.

Abruptly, he received a direct call on another radio band.

“Steve calling Hunter. Don’t respond! Just listen, okay?” Steve’s voice on the other band was muffled, and nearly drowned out by the sound of rushing air and a loud, rumbling engine. “I hope you’re there!”

Hunter understood that Steve was in a place where Hunter’s voice might be overheard if it came over Steve’s lapel pin. From the background sounds, he surmised that the team was riding one of the big trucks on the way home with the work brigade. Instead of speaking, he transmitted a clear tapping sound in a repeating rhythm: one, two … one-two-three … one, two … one-two-three …

“I read, Hunter! Jane and I are huddling down in one corner of a truck, pretending to talk to each other. Look — Judy took off in one of the other trucks. She’s chasing MC 4, but we’ve already lost sight of her truck in the dark.”

Again, Hunter acknowledged his receipt of the message by transmitting the rhythmic tapping.

“If there’s any way you can meet us back at the warehouse tonight, we need you! And we’ve all seen MC 4, so we have a shot at getting him. I’m shutting off again. Steve out.”

Hunter felt a renewed urgency. His team was on the verge of finding MC 4, but Wayne and Ishihara were also drawing near. In their most recent mission, back to Germany in Roman times, they had taken the component robot into custody and back to their own time only moments before Wayne Nystrom would have caught him, instead.

The voices he could hear down the hall began diminishing. Most of the people left the building, while a few new ones entered. The night staff, much smaller than the day staff, had started its shift.

Shortly after that, Hunter heard two sets of deliberate footsteps enter the front door and come down the hall. The door to the room opened and Agents Raskov and Konev entered. Both their faces were red from the cold; they still wore their overcoats and fur hats.

“This had better be very important,” said Agent Konev. “It had better be more important than what we were doing when we were ordered back here.”

“It is very important,” Hunter said politely. He waited for them to sit down.

“You have further information about the Germans?” Agent Raskov demanded. He pulled off his hat and unbuttoned his coat. “Do not waste our time. What is it?”

Hunter watched him for a moment without speaking. “It is warm in this room, is it not? Perhaps you would like to be comfortable.”

Agent Konev scowled but pulled off his hat and tossed it onto the table. Then he unbuttoned his coat and hung it on the back of a chair. Light from the one lamp reflected off the handcuffs hanging from his belt.

Hunter carefully calculated the moves he could make to escape. Of course, he could not actually harm any humans or clearly display any robotic abilities. However, he could use any ability that he could hide.

“What do you have to say?” Agent Konev glared impatiently at him.

“I apologize for the inconvenience,” said Hunter. At the same time, under the table, he quietly pulled one of the links loose between his cuffed wrists. When it had opened wide enough, he unlinked the chain between the two cuffs.

“Get to the point,” ordered Agent Raskov.

Without a word, Hunter stood up, in the same motion turning over the table toward the two men. Agent Konev was on his left, and as the table fell over on its side and forced the two agents to jump backward, Hunter reached over and yanked the handcuffs from Agent Konev’s belt.

“Hey!” Agent Raskov stuck one hand inside his coat, still backing away.

Hunter could not risk getting shot, which might reveal some evidence of his robotic insides. He quickly jumped toward Agent Raskov and ripped the gun out of his hand. Hunter surreptitiously used his strength to bend the trigger sideways slightly, so it could not be pulled. Then he dropped it on the floor.

Agent Konev was reaching for his own handgun. Hunter shoved his partner hard against him, causing them to fall to the floor next to the radiator. The motion threw Agent Konev’s gun hand off to one side. Hunter also snatched his gun away and bent the trigger in the same manner.

Before the two men could get up, Hunter snapped Agent Konev’s handcuffs on them, looped around one leg of the radiator. While they pulled and scuffled, not yet realizing what had happened, he searched their pockets for their keys. When he found their handcuff keys, he bent them, too.

Hunter heard footsteps running down the hall toward him, probably in response to the noise of the fight. He stepped to one side of the door and waited for only a few seconds. The door was flung open and two more agents ran inside, past him.

Hunter shoved them both from behind, using their own momentum. They both stumbled against the overturned table. Hunter slipped out the door and ran up the hallway.

A man at the reception desk leaped to his feet when Hunter came into view, but then halted at the sight of him. Hunter threw open the front door and found himself outside on the cold, dark street. He no longer had his winter coat, but for now, he had enough stored energy to function even in this temperature. Without stopping, he turned and began jogging in an evasive pattern, around the corners of buildings and through alleys.

Steve and Jane arrived back at the warehouse without any further discussion of their situation. He was worried about Judy but could not see anything to do at the moment. Once they got off the truck, however, Jane leaned over to him.

“Maybe we can find out where that other work brigade went.”

“Yeah? How?”

“I could ask around our own brigade. Somebody will know.”

“Let’s wait for Hunter. I don’t want to attract any special attention to us with a question like that.”

Jane nodded.

By now, they were accustomed to the routine. They joined everyone else in line for the customarily bland dinner. Then they returned to their private corner to eat it.

Steve looked up from his bowl, feeling a little defensive. “It’s tough just waiting, isn’t it? I feel like we should be doing something. But right now, waiting for Hunter to rejoin us really is a good idea, I think.”

Jane grinned. “You know, you’re getting more levelheaded and responsible all the time.”

“Who, me?” He smiled wryly. “Too much time with you and Hunter, I guess.”

She laughed lightly and nudged him with her elbow, almost spilling the contents of her bowl.

Steve returned his attention to his own meager dinner. He really liked Jane and in moments like this he wished they could talk leisurely, without the danger of discovery that surrounded them and the urgency of completing the mission safely. Then, as always, his earlier doubts recurred. Their rapport was based on the dangers around them, not on any ordinary friendship.

After dinner, the exhausted work brigade members settled in for the night. Some were still talking quietly among themselves about the anticipated German attack. Steve sat against the cold wall, anxiously waiting for Hunter.

Finally he heard a knock at the front door. Steve and Jane both watched as the guards spoke to the visitor. When they backed up and let him in, Steve straightened in surprise.

Hunter had kept his body unchanged, but his face was longer and narrower than before. Even at his height, no one who had seen his face before would believe this was the same person. Most importantly, he plodded wearily, as though he had just finished a long day of physical labor. He worked his way down the wall toward Steve and Jane.

“I’m sure glad to see you,” Steve said with a smile. “I would have thought you’d make yourself shorter, though.”

Jane was looking at Hunter carefully. “Hunter, are you okay?”

“I am extremely low on energy,” said Hunter. “I did not receive any sunlight from which to recharge my solar cells today. I have been using my stored energy through all of last night, during the day, and now tonight.”

“Wait a minute,” said Jane. “You can store immense amounts of energy. What happened?”

“You are correct. Until I escaped the NKVD a short time ago, I was using very little energy and still had much to spare. However, I left without my winter coat and had to flee through the city without any insulation. Further, I am conserving my energy for the remainder of the night because I feel we should leave here immediately and make our way somehow to MC 4. At dawn, of course, I will begin to recharge.”

“We don’t know exactly where to find MC 4,” said Steve. “Or Judy.”

“We can ask someone,” Jane added.

“No need,” said Hunter. “Judy called me and told me where she is. But MC 4 is not there.”

“What?” Jane asked. “What happened?”

“MC 4 never got on the trucks to return to the city. He slipped out of the crowd and disappeared. She saw him heading westward across the steppe, but it was too late for her to get off the truck. She rode back to the school used by that particular work brigade for shelter.”

“So we should start by joining up again,” said Steve. “Or do you want to have us spend the night where we are and start again tomorrow?”

“No, I do not dare risk that now,” said Hunter. “Judy does not have your experience with living in other times. Also, we now know something about MC 4’s location and direction. Last, I fear that the NKVD may yet come back here searching for me again. They might take you two for questioning this time.”

“Then let’s get out of here,” said Jane. “How should we do it this time?”

“The lights will be turned off in a few minutes,” said Hunter. “We can afford to wait that long. I suggest we leave the same way as last time, from that other warehouse.” He nodded toward the rear door, then toward the circuit breaker box. “This establishment has the same basic design as our previous residence.”

“Good idea.” Steve glanced around. “I guess it will work again. But I hope we don’t need another shelter. If we keep sneaking out of every place we can spend the night, then pretty soon we’ll use up all the public housing.”

As Hunter had said, the overhead lights were turned out shortly; leaving only a small table lamp burning in the front. Steve and Jane worked their way across the crowded room and flipped the circuit breaker, while Hunter opened the rear door in the sudden darkness and held it. The procedure worked just as well this time as it had before. In a few moments, the team again ran up a back alley out in the cold, clear, night air.

When they were sure no one was chasing them, Hunter stopped to allow his team members to put their coats on and catch their breath.

“Are you both all right?” Hunter asked. His appearance had now returned to normal.

“Yeah,” said Jane, as she buttoned her coat. “Wow, it’s cold out here.”

“I’m fine,” said Steve. “Which way do we go?”

“Please simply follow me. It will be faster and quieter than explaining.”

Hunter led them at a brisk walk through the darkened city. He kept to alleys and side streets as much as possible, ducking into shadows on the rare moments when vehicles appeared nearby. When they reached the school Judy had told him about, Hunter knocked on the door.

A tall, stocky man opened the door and looked at Hunter coldly. “We are full, comrade. Sorry.” He started to close the door.

“We are not seeking shelter.” Hunter grabbed the edge of the door in one hand and held it fast. His tone was firm and authoritative. “Please tell Judy Taub to come to the door.”

The guard made one more attempt to jerk the door shut. His eyes shifted to Hunter in surprise when he realized that he could not move it even slightly. He turned and called Judy’s name over his shoulder.

Judy, with a big smile of relief, was already hurrying to the door.

“We shall relieve you of your overcrowding,” Hunter said, as Judy slipped out past the guard. “Thank you.”

The guard slammed the door loudly.

20

HUNTER LED HIS team away from the door, then he turned to Judy.

“You are well?” Hunter asked. “Sure, I’m fine.”

“Good. Since you radioed me, have you gained any additional information about MC 4?”

“No.”

“From what you said, it appears that MC 4 is heading for the German lines. Do you agree?”

“Well, I don’t know,” said Judy. “I saw him running straight west across the steppe, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t double back later.”

Hunter turned to Jane. “As our roboticist, what do you think?”

“Judy, was he running away from you personally?” Jane asked.

“No. He couldn’t have been. I didn’t reveal myself in any way as someone from our time. Actually, I never even got very close to him.”

“Then I think he must be leaving the Soviet lines for reasons of his own,” said Jane. “Some new interpretation of one of the Laws of Robotics must have dictated his actions. Otherwise, the Third Law would force him to take care of himself with shelter, which the work brigade offered.”

“So something unknown caused him to leave the work brigade for the German lines,” said Hunter.

“Yes, that’s my best guess.”

“I agree,” said Hunter. “He may have learned that radio transmission was in use here. If so, he may have monitored the same NKVD radio traffic that I heard. It has told him that he is being sought, though he cannot possibly know why.”

“He will find all sorts of humans in the German lines to save from harm if he can,” said Judy. “Behind the lines, the Nazis have prisoners of war and political prisoners they have gathered during their campaign.”

“The First Law could keep him busy there, then,” said Jane. “Hunter, what are we going to do? He could start interfering with history as soon as he reaches those prisoners.”

“Those lines are a long way from here, aren’t they?” Steve asked. “And he’s on foot.”

“Yes,” said Judy.

“A robot of his type can walk that distance in a night without stopping, though,” said Jane. “He would be very low on energy by the time he arrived, but he can count on the sun to recharge him at dawn.”

“So, without a vehicle of some kind, we don’t have a chance of catching him,” said Steve. “He had a head start out at the ditches and now he’s been hiking for a couple of hours already.”

“I dare not steal a vehicle, as Wayne and Ishihara did,” said Hunter. “I fear it could cause a significant disruption in events.”

“Well, we have one more problem now,” said Judy. “If my memory serves, the Soviet counterattack will begin at dawn. Anything we do now will happen during actual battle conditions.”

“I see,” Hunter said stiffly. “That eliminates any choice of crossing the neutral zone between the armies. I cannot risk that much harm to you.”

“You have a plan?” Steve asked.

“Once again, I must make a concession I do not like,” said Hunter. “We shall have to return to our own time and then come back to this time, but behind the German lines. Please stand close to me. Steve, please give me the belt unit.”

As his team members crowded around him, Steve pulled the unit out of his shirt and offered it. Hunter glanced around to make sure that no local people could see them. Then he triggered the unit.

Wayne finally began to relax as Ishihara drove through the smallest back streets in Moscow to reach their destination. For the first time, they had a real lead on MC 4. Then, without speaking, Ishihara slowed down and stopped the car by the curb.

“Something wrong?” Wayne felt a sinking sensation.

“Yes,” said Ishihara. “A new report has just gone out on the NKVD band.”

“What did it say?”

“MC 4 is not at the location where his work brigade is spending the night. Some other agents who interrogated people in the work brigades got a lead on MC 4 by using his description, at about the time the brigades got on the trucks to go home. The agents figured out which work brigade he had worked in and reached them ahead of us. I fear that our need to take evasive measures delayed our arrival until it was too late.”

“What happened to him?”

“They do not know for sure. Those agents questioned people in the work brigade and reported that MC 4 never got on the truck back at the antitank ditch. They think he may be hiding out in the ditch tonight.”

Wayne thought a moment. “Just spending the night there? That doesn’t make sense. They’ll all be back tomorrow.”

“Of course, they believe he is limited by human abilities.”

“So we came all the way back to Moscow for no reason? He stayed out there all along?”

“Do not forget that the NKVD spotted us out there. We had to make this run back into Moscow in order to lose the pursuit. It was not wasted time.”

“Well — all right.”

“I think MC 4 is probably now fleeing back across the neutral territory to the German lines. They know no human would attempt that on foot.”

“Yeah! He has to flee the entire Soviet-held territory now. And that means we can still get him first! Even the NKVD won’t go all the way to the German lines. Let’s go!”

“We can attempt it,” Ishihara said calmly. “I must warn you that we have only a quarter tank of gasoline left. We have no money with which to acquire more and attempting to get some by stealth would probably also bring renewed pursuit.”

“Well … how far can this thing go on a quarter tank?”

“From our driving so far, I estimate that we might reach the German lines. I am certain that we would get within walking distance.”

“I want to go after MC 4 now, while we have a chance to snatch him out in open territory. Will the First Law let you try it?”

“Yes,” said Ishihara. “The Germans were not exactly happy with us, but they will certainly be more hospitable than the Soviets.”

“Then let’s go.”

Ishihara drove away from the curb.

“We can pick up his trail back at the ditch,” said Wayne.

“Our first problem is getting around the antitank ditches,” said Ishihara. “Those ditches are too deep and steeply dug for this car to cross. There are no bridges or causeways across them; that would defeat their purpose. We shall have to go around one end. Then we can search for MC 4’s trail.”

Wayne nodded.

“The greatest gasoline expenditure will be another evasive pattern through the city to escape the NKVD’s notice. Once we are past the ditches, I can slow down to conserve gasoline usage and still maintain greater speed than MC 4 has even at his fastest.”

Wayne said nothing. His earlier elation had been dampened by the need to reverse direction, but the news was not really that bad. In fact, if they could find MC 4 out on the open steppe with fuel in the car, then chasing him down and grabbing him would be even easier than apprehending him in the middle of a work brigade.

As before, Ishihara took them safely out of Moscow by a long, involved route with many turns. They reached the same unpaved road that they had taken to the ditches earlier. At first, Wayne did not see any other headlights as they left Moscow behind. After a while, however, he saw Ishihara glance into the rearview mirror.

“Trouble?” Wayne looked over his shoulder and saw headlights far behind them, but on the same road.

“Yes, but they are not aware of it yet.”

“Huh? What does that mean?”

Ishihara reached out and switched on the car’s communication system.

Wayne heard static crackling first, followed by a man’s voice speaking a couple of Russian phrases. The man waited, then spoke again. Wayne could not understand the words, but he could tell that the speaker was repeating the same phrases again.

“I first heard him over a minute ago on my internal receiver,” said Ishihara.

“What’s he saying?”

“He is just trying to get me to respond. It is merely a standard NKVD opening; I have learned that they all use it. He must have recognized this car as an NKVD vehicle, but is too far back to see our license plate. For this reason, he has not yet realized that we are in the fugitive NKVD car. He and his partner are almost certainly going to look for MC 4 at the ditches and he simply assumes that we are doing the same.”

Wayne grinned. “Well, we are.”

“True. However, I dare not respond. Instead of confirming to him that we are the fugitives, I shall wait for him to figure it out.” Ishihara turned off the car speaker again.

“What are we going to do about them?”

“I shall just keep driving. We have a good lead. Once we find a way around the ditch, we shall take off west across the open steppe.”

“Okay.” Wayne looked back again. The other car seemed to be just a little closer.

Steve felt the same familiar time shift as before. The team suddenly found itself jammed together in the dark, curved bottom of the sphere they used to travel in time. It opened and he could see Hunter climbing out.

“Please remain where you are,” said Hunter. “I shall program the console and rejoin you immediately.”

“Hold it, Hunter,” said Steve. “There’s no need to hurry right back, is there? I mean, we can go back to whatever moment we want whether we leave now or in a couple of hours, right?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Well, look. We’re all tired and we could use some good food for a change. You’re low on energy, and ought to recharge. Then we can return to the German lines in the morning, with our sleep schedule matching their time zone.”

“Sounds great to me,” said Judy. “Especially about getting a really nice dinner. Something with dessert.”

“Yeah, Hunter,” said Jane. “We can split up for now and come back fresh.”

“I agree that we should take some time here,” said Hunter, as he helped Judy get out of the sphere. “However, I do not want us to leave the Institute. I am concerned that unexpected distractions and unpredictable problems might arise.”

Steve jumped out and unbuttoned his coat. “You want us to sleep here? We can do that. What about food?”

“I can help, of course.” R. Daladier, the security robot who had been left here originally, was still standing motionless by the door that opened onto the hall.

“I will arrange for Daladier to bring whatever food or personal items you wish from anywhere in Mojave Center,” said Hunter. “Steve, after dinner, I suggest you sleep on the couch here. I shall help Judy and Jane find another room with couches elsewhere in the building.”

“Sounds okay to me,” said Jane, shrugging. “Go ahead and plug into the building’s power system to recharge, Hunter.”

“I shall do so,” said Hunter. “It will not take long. Then I shall arrange different costumes for all of us. We should not wear Soviet clothes to visit the Germans.”

“Now, then,” said Steve. “What are the choices for dinner?”

Wayne stared forward into darkness as Ishihara drove over rough, frozen ground at the southern end of the antitank ditches. From now on, Wayne knew, they had no road to follow. The car bounced hard, jarring him, and he grabbed the back of his seat to steady himself.

“Are they turning back?” Wayne asked.

“See for yourself,” said Ishihara.

Wayne looked back. Now four sets of headlights were following them. The NKVD car that Ishihara had refused to answer over the radio had obviously figured out that they were the fugitives. Other cars had been called and they had converged on the trail.

The chase continued over the open steppe. The car bounced and veered hard; at times Ishihara had to slow down to keep control.

After a while, Wayne looked back again. The pursuers were slowly gaining. Their headlights, too, jumped and jerked in the darkness.

“Why aren’t we gaining? When you drove over open ground last time, you left them behind.”

“This car has sustained damage from the hard use we have given it. I have to drive more slowly now or else it may not last for the entire distance. The cars behind us have apparently not suffered as much. However, their gain on us has been very gradual.”

“Well … how far do we have to go?”

“We have covered seven of the approximately eighteen kilometers to the German lines.”

“How about this — radio forward to the Germans. They still believe we’re German spies, so they should help. What do you think? We can tell them that we’re bringing back important information.”

“We have none.”

“I know, but … it might help. We’ll think of something when the time comes.”

“We still cannot risk precipitating a battle.”

“That isn’t the Soviet military behind us; it’s a bunch of civilian cars. And German patrols must be out this way already.”

“I agree. I shall call.”

Wayne watched him in silence for several minutes.

“I have made contact,” Ishihara said finally. “I explained our dilemma and approximate position to the German radio operator who responded. I also told him we have spoken with Major Bach, whose name may help us.”

“You told him we have critical military information about the Soviets, right? What did he say?”

“Yes, I told him. I have been instructed to stand by.”

Wayne looked back again. The headlights behind them looked a little bigger than before. “Do you think we’re going to make it?”

“I do not know. As I said before, the First Law will require me to take you to another time and place before I allow you to be taken by the NKVD.”

“I don’t want them to get me, either. But maybe we could just jump forward a few hours. And behind German lines? Not so far into the future that Hunter will grab MC 4 in the meantime.”

“It is possible, but we would again have much explaining to do. They would want to know how we got back there, especially without their sentries noticing. We shall have a considerable challenge already in giving them any information about the Soviet military important enough to impress them but unimportant enough so that it will not alter the course of history.”

“Yeah. Just don’t make any move unless we just can’t get away from the NKVD any other way.”

“I agree. Further, I have good news. The German operator has just radioed back. He called the German patrol on duty in this sector. An armored car is coming out to meet us.”

“Great!” Wayne glanced again at the headlights behind them. They were closer than ever. “I hope they get here in time.”

“I suspect that only our claim to have military information has caused anyone to go to this much effort for us.”

“Yeah, well, whatever it takes.” Wayne grinned.

“I fear your history is poor. You do not realize just how horrible the Nazi regime was. We run the risk of angering them.”

21

THE RACE ACROSS the frozen neutral zone continued. Wayne turned in his seat and watched in horrified fascination as the four NKVD cars behind them narrowed the gap. Slowly, but inexorably, their headlights grew larger. Soon they had closed within three or four car lengths. Then they began to spread out.

“Ishihara — they’re surrounding us. They’re going to close in.”

“I see,” said Ishihara. “However, look forward again.”

Wayne swiveled. He saw two tiny lights ahead in the distance, bounding over the horizon. “Ishihara! Is that the German patrol?”

“Yes. I have just made contact. It is Leutnant Mohr’s patrol again.”

“How close are we to the other side?”

“Not very. I estimate we are near the twelvekilometer mark of the total eighteen.”

Suddenly a loud, staccato popping sounded in the distance.

“Hey — are they shooting at us?” Wayne slid down in his seat. “What’s wrong with them?”

“Leutnant Mohr has ordered his machine gun to be fired high over all of us,” said Ishihara. “I acknowledged this without objection. It is merely a warning.”

“Yeah?” Staying low, Wayne turned again to look at the pursuit. All four cars were veering away from them in sudden turns. “Hey, that’s great. They aren’t going to challenge outright military power, are they?”

“No.”

Wayne grinned. “Wow. That was close.”

“Yes. It was. Now we shall follow the patrol back to German lines.”

“Do we have enough fuel?”

“I believe so. Just barely.”

Wayne sat up, weak with the sudden release of tension. He could see the armored car waiting for them up ahead. As they drew near, it turned and led them back to the west.

After that excitement, Wayne felt profound relief. The remaining six kilometers or so seemed very short now that no one was chasing them. Finally, the armored car led them back through the front lines to a place among the tents.

Ishihara stopped behind the armored car. As the soldiers jumped out of the back, Wayne and Ishihara got out of the car. Leutnant Mohr hurried to meet them, the fur cloak swirling about him in the wind as he spoke quickly in German to Ishihara.

Wayne waited while they spoke. The soldiers in the patrol were attentive, but not hostile. When Leutnant Mohr gestured to a small command tent, Ishihara nodded and turned to Wayne.

“He wants to talk to us himself. I think he is worried about getting into trouble for coming to get us.”

Wayne nodded and followed Ishihara into the tent while the rest of the patrol remained outside. Inside, a soldier sat at a small wooden table in front of a large metal box. Only the antenna told Wayne that it was their crude field radio; the rest of the unit was unrecognizable to him. The tent was a rather meager communications center.

He watched Leutnant Mohr and Ishihara speak in German. As the discussion progressed, Leutnant Mohr became more agitated. Ishihara kept talking, calmly but quickly. Suddenly Leutnant Mohr shouted and the soldiers in his patrol swarmed into the tent to surround Ishihara and Wayne at gunpoint.

Leutnant Mohr gave one more command and the patrol marched out their new prisoners.

Wayne was mystified. Ishihara did not speak, however. They were herded onto the back of the armored car again. This time, the patrol drove them through the lines of gaunt, hollow-eyed soldiers huddling together to the rear. There, they were ordered into a makeshift holding pen.

The pen offered no shelter, being merely a circle of open steppe surrounded by barbed wire guarded by sentries. A crowd of bearded men in ragged and dirty Soviet military uniforms lay huddled on the ground, their only protection from the winter wind coming from each other’s bodies. After Leutnant Mohr’s men had marched back to their armored car, Ishihara squatted and spoke quietly in Russian for a moment to another prisoner. The other man responded briefly and Ishihara stood up again.

Wayne followed Ishihara a short distance away so they could speak English without being overheard.

“What happened with Leutnant Mohr?” Wayne asked.

“I told Leutnant Mohr about the placement of the antitank ditches. I also told him about the width of the neutral zone between the armies and roughly where I believe the Red Army is placed. I felt I could risk telling him that much, because it will not change the coming battle. Unfortunately, the Leutnant knows that this is worthless information.”

“And he got mad.”

“Leutnant Mohr feels that we tricked him, which, of course, is actually true. Now the Leutnant has to save himself from Major Bach’s anger. I think he is hoping that treating us as prisoners will look good to his superior.”

Wayne glanced at the cold, spiritless men in the pen with them. “I would have thought the Germans would have more prisoners than this.”

“The man I spoke to here told me that this is just a holding pen for paws. The vast majority of prisoners have already been marched far to the rear. This pen simply holds those who have been captured since the others left. Apparently, the Germans have a bunch of these small pens up and down the rear of their lines.”

Wayne nodded. “Leutnant Mohr overreacted. Don’t you think Major Bach will let us out again?”

“Predicting is difficult. Leutnant Mohr is protecting himself when in doubt.”

“Well … he didn’t take my fur cloak away. Last time we saw him, he wanted it.”

“Maybe he is simply distracted by larger issues at the moment. I suggest that the time has come to go to another time and place. We could give up on MC 4 and attempt to apprehend one of the other component robots.”

“No, not yet. We can always go at the last minute — on the point of death.”

“I cannot allow the risk of harm to come that close to you.”

“We haven’t reached that point yet. Look, you know I haven’t done very well. I only need to get my hands on one of the component robots — but I’m desperate for one! I don’t dare give up this easily.”

“All right. Until more immediate danger threatens, the Second Law still applies.”

Wayne nodded, tightening his fur cloak around him. “It’s going to be a long, cold night out here.”

Steve found breakfast waiting when Hunter woke him. The team ate, showered down the hall, and dressed in the new costumes Hunter had waiting. These clothes looked similar to the previous ones to Steve, but Hunter assured him that the differences in style would be noticeable to the Germans. Then they gathered in Room F-12, wearing new overcoats in anticipation of returning to the Russian winter.

“I see we’re all ready,” said Judy. “Any final briefing, Hunter?”

“Only that we shall go back to the area behind German lines, at dawn the morning after we left.”

“I was thinking about that,” said Steve. “Can’t you calculate where MC 4 would be earlier in the night, while he’s crossing the neutral zone alone? We could trap him out on the open steppe, without any local witnesses.”

“I considered it,” said Hunter. “That move sounds easy but it would actually be difficult. For instance, we cannot afford to go back at a time when we were already there; appearing there twice at the same time would risk time paradoxes that could bring about incalculable problems.”

“Your internal clock will tell you exactly when we left,” said Jane. “You can take us back an hour later. MC 4 would still be out in the middle of nowhere.”

“I have no way to predict his precise route. He will probably take some evasive measures, and may alter his path even more as he draws close enough to see or hear soldiers on the German lines. Remember, he cannot just walk up to them without violating the Third Law by getting shot. So as he sneaks up on the Germans, his moves become unpredictable.”

“You could still make an educated guess,” said Steve. “I like the idea of nabbing him all alone out in the open.”

“If I fail to take us within sight of him, we will have accomplished nothing,” said Hunter. “We could not risk following him to the German lines.”

“I’m with Hunter,” said Judy. “We’re going back to December 5, 1941. The Soviet army moves on the Germans at dawn. If we’re standing between the two armies when it does, we’re in big trouble.”

“We would have to come back here again,” said Hunter. “And go to the German rear anyway.”

“Okay,” said Steve. “I’m convinced.”

Jane nodded.

“Then we shall go directly to the rear of the German lines,” said Hunter. “I shall set the console.”

Steve helped Jane and Judy climb into the sphere and then followed them. As always, Hunter joined them last and closed it. Steve only hoped they could avoid the dangers of combat once the battle began.

As soon as the team arrived safely on the cold ground, Hunter stood up and looked west in the pale early light. He could not see any sign of the German lines, but when he raised his aural sensitivity, he heard the sounds of vehicles, voices, and marching feet. Then a series of thunderous booms reached them.

“Soviet artillery,” said Judy. “The Germans will be moving quickly to prepare for the Soviet advance.”

“I do not want to waste any time,” said Hunter. “I shall radio in German for help.”

Hunter sent out a call in German, identifying himself as a Swiss national whose team was involved with German intelligence. After a brief delay, the radio operator responded that a German patrol would be sent to pick them up. Hunter gave his location as well as he could and signed off.

Soon Hunter could hear the roar of a loud, powerful engine coming toward them.

“I believe the patrol is on the way,” said Hunter.

“Probably an armored car,” said Judy. “Carrying troops in the back.”

“Yes,” Hunter said, magnifying his vision and focusing on a speck that had just come over the horizon. “I see it now.”

The armored car rumbled over the rough ground as the sound of artillery grew more intense. As soon as it pulled up in front of the team, the soldiers in the back leaped to the ground and fanned out around them, leveling their weapons. One young officer stepped out of the passenger side of the car.

“Hands up! Now!” He was excited, his voice tense. “Who is in charge here?”

Hunter raised his hands and saw that his team also complied. “I am,” he said in German as fluent as the officer’s. “This man is Japanese; the rest of us are Swiss. We are no threat to you.”

“Frisk them!” The officer pointed to two of his men.

As they slung their rifles over their shoulders and trotted forward, Hunter looked at the officer in surprise. “Who are you? What is wrong?”

“I am Leutnant Mohr.” He walked up in front of Hunter, studying him carefully as artillery pounded even faster, shaking the ground. “What is your business with German intelligence?”

“We are on the trail of an enemy agent. We believe he may have infiltrated German lines here.”

“What does he look like?”

Hunter described MC 4. He was startled to see Leutnant Mohr’s face tighten suspiciously. One of the soldiers frisked Hunter and then stepped back.

“They are not armed,” he said.

“Take them into the back,” said Leutnant Mohr. He turned and walked back to the cab of the armored car.

The other soldiers kept the team covered and herded them into the back. In a few minutes, the armored car was bouncing in a tight circle to return to the lines. No one spoke.

Puzzled, Hunter kept careful watch on all the soldiers. A couple of them held their rifles on their prisoners, but the rest had turned their attention to the booming artillery ahead. Since the shells were not landing nearby, Hunter did not feel that his team members were in immediate danger, but he had to be ready to move if any of the soldiers became more belligerent — and if the shells landed closer.

Hunter had certainly not expected their welcome to be so hostile. At the very least, he had expected his story to be plausible enough to receive some consideration. When Hunter had first heard the tension in Leutnant Mohr’s voice, he had guessed that the artillery barrage and the coming battle were the reason. Then he had seen Leutnant Mohr’s sudden reaction to MC 4’s description. It obviously meant something to him, but Hunter did not know what. All he could do now was wait and look for an opportunity to find out.

Hunter’s sensitized hearing brought him more complex sounds of battle every minute. The steady rumble of thousands of tanks now mixed with the heavy pounding of artillery. Over the German radio band, men were shouting orders all along the lines.

Hunter did not take his eyes off the soldiers around him and his team, even when the armored car pulled up to a large barbed wire pen. The soldiers opened the back and jumped out, gesturing for the team to follow. Then the soldiers hustled them through the gate and left them inside the pen. A few men inside glanced at them, but most gazed to the east, where billows of gray smoke rose over the battlefield.

22

STEVE STUMBLED INTO the pen, repeatedly shoved from behind by one of the soldiers. As soon as they had locked the gate behind him, however, he saw that the team was together and unhurt. Right now that was good enough.

“Hey, Hunter,” said Steve. “Look at the crowd in here. Maybe MC 4 is in here someplace. What if they grabbed him when he showed up and just threw him in?”

“Just as they did with us,” said Judy. “That’s a good possibility. We should look.”

“I am looking,” said Hunter. “However, the crowd is dense. Everyone is standing together. I cannot see most people well enough to recognize them.” He turned to his team members. “We can move into the crowd in a moment. First I want to say this. I fear we may have to return again to our own time. If the artillery shelling comes near this area, I shall have no choice. So we must remain close together.”

“Maybe we really messed up,” said Judy. “A big battle in the industrial age is no time to look for MC 4. I thought we’d be talking to some officers, not just locked up and abandoned.”

“Me, too,” said Jane. “Hunter, do you want to go right back and pick another time? In all this confusion, I doubt anybody would notice if we just vanished again.”

“I agree with you about that,” said Hunter. “That gives us slightly greater flexibility. We can afford to wait a little longer before giving up.”

“You mean you want to stay longer?” Steve was startled. “Why?”

“The continuing danger is that Wayne Nystrom will beat us to MC 4, even in the midst of the battle. However, my greatest fear is that MC 4 will be hit by gunfire or something worse, damaging him to the point of being unrecognizable. That will make locating him very difficult — perhaps impossible. Coming back after the battle could be useless, and we would never be able to reassemble Mojave Center Governor.”

“I don’t see what we can do here,” said Judy. “And if MC 4 gets blown into junk, then he won’t change history.”

“You forgot about that nuclear explosion,” said Steve. “Even if he’s in two thousand pieces that just lie around under the soil undisturbed until our time, we know his remains explode when the time comes.”

“Oh — yeah.” Judy nodded tightly.

Hunter turned to her. “What happens here today?”

“Let me think. The Germans are on the defensive. They’re about to experience their first defeat on the Russian front. During the next six weeks, they’ll be driven back until they can stabilize the line in mid-January.” She shook her head.

“What’s wrong?” Hunter asked.

“Today in particular, I just don’t remember much detail. The Germans obviously get the worst of it.” She hesitated. “Half a million prisoners in their control, like these right here, will die in the first three months of winter from exposure.”

Steve could hear the sounds of artillery and tanks drawing closer. The weapons of this time required that the battle would be fought at a fairly close distance. The ground shook with the thundering of artillery.

“Let’s walk up and join the group,” said Hunter. “If we’re lucky, MC 4 is right here.”

The other prisoners had little interest in them, as they continued to watch the smoke rising in the distance. The team slowly merged into the crowd. Hunter, because of his height, could see much more clearly than his team members. When Steve saw motion off to one side of the pen, outside the barbed wire, he turned to look.

A troop of German infantry was marching a long line of other prisoners past the pen, away from the front lines. As the filthy, ragged prisoners streamed past, a German officer stopped at the gate to their pen. The guards nodded and opened the gate.

“Hunter,” Steve said quickly, tapping him on the arm. “Look.”

Hunter turned. At the same time, one of the guards blew a whistle and began waving for everyone to come out. Another guard began barking orders.

“Judy, what are they doing?” Hunter asked. “Where are they taking all these people?”

“All the POWs are being marched to the rear right away, so they can’t be a threat of any kind in the day’s operations. These guys were probably held in other pens similar to this one.”

Steve watched everyone. The crowd of prisoners around them was already moving toward the gate. Since the marching prisoners were being taken west, away from the growing battle, none of the prisoners in the pen hesitated.

“We shall go with them,” said Hunter. “Long enough to find out if MC 4 is here somewhere, or in that other group. If we see no sign of him, we can return to our time and plan again. At least we are leaving the combat behind.”

Steve nodded. He waited patiently as the crowd shuffled forward, slowed by the bottleneck at the gate. Again, Hunter led the way and Steve brought up the rear.

At the gate, some prisoners had been pulled out of the line by men in different uniforms. These prisoners were standing at gunpoint just to one side of the gate. Hunter passed out of the gate, as did Jane. Then one of the guards grabbed Judy’s arm and jerked her aside, out of the line.

Before Steve could respond, another guard leveled his rifle at Steve and sharply moved the point toward Judy. Suddenly moving very cautiously, Steve stepped over to her.

Hunter turned and saw them from outside the barbed wire.

“Hey! What are you doing with them?” Hunter demanded.

One of the guards slammed the butt of his rifle into Hunter’s abdomen. The big robot, unhurt, bent forward slightly at the impact, pretending to react. “Why are you keeping them?”

“They’re going to execute us,” Judy shouted through the wires.

“Shut up, Jewish pig,” said one of the men, spitting on her. “All you subhumans will be eliminated before we go.”

Steve slammed into him, knocking him off balance. “Judy, run! Get outside the gate!” He pushed her forward. Hunter could not take the team back while local people stood among them, within the range of the sphere, or else he would take them, too.

Suddenly, in the line of prisoners marching behind Hunter to the west, Steve saw MC 4, his head down like the others. Steve pointed. “Hunter! There he is!” He started to yell MC 4’s name, then realized that it would alert the component robot to the pursuit. So far, in the noise and confusion all around, MC 4 had not realized anyone was concerned with him.

Something hard slammed into the back of Steve’s head and his legs crumpled, dropping him to the frozen ground with a thump. For a moment, he was dazed. He heard shouts and felt the pounding of feet on the ground around him, but could not think clearly.

Wayne and Ishihara had both seen Leutnant Mohr’s armored car pull up to the gate. Wayne had hoped the Leutnant was coming back for them. When Wayne had seen Hunter and his team, of course, he and Ishihara had hidden in the crowd of prisoners. They stayed behind Hunter as the prisoners moved toward the gate of the pen.

Now, however, they had both been herded close to the gate with everyone else. Ahead of him, Ishihara had almost reached the opening. Wayne remained caught behind the bottleneck, near Steve and Judy and the guards holding them. Then Wayne heard Steve shout and point to MC 4, who was about to march right in front of the gate among the troop of prisoners.

Wayne felt a rush of excitement. He, too, pointed to MC 4. “Ishihara, grab him!”

Ishihara was still trapped in the crowd, however. As they shuffled forward with everyone else, Wayne heard a uniformed man tell the woman whom Steve had called Judy that he was going to kill her, Steve, and the others who had been taken aside. Then the man spat on her.

Wayne was shocked. Somehow, until this moment, the people around them had been sort of abstract, unreal. He knew that the combat and stress of war was horrible, but he had not expected to see prisoners simply executed out of hand like this. For the first time, he realized how ignorant he was of this time and these people.

Hunter had moved just outside the gate and beyond the barbed wire, but he responded instantly. Flinging aside one startled German guard, he plunged directly into the barbed wire, stretching it forward with his weight, ignoring how it tore into his clothes. He reached through the wires for Judy and Steve, but two more guards threw themselves on him, forcing him to turn and fight them off.

In the same instant, Ishihara pushed people away from him just inside the barbed wire. He slammed into the guard who had spit on Judy, knocking his rifle to the ground. The immediacy of the danger to people from his own time had forced Ishihara to act under the First Law.

The other prisoners quickly drew away from the gate, hoping to avoid getting hurt if the Germans began firing their weapons. Suddenly the open gateway was in front of Wayne. MC 4 was only a few yards away.

Wayne looked back at Hunter and Ishihara, who were struggling with a knot of German guards and other soldiers. More soldiers had gathered around them with their rifles aimed. They hesitated to shoot for fear of hitting their own comrades.

Steve pushed himself up, stumbling into a standing position. Judy took his arm to help him up. She frantically pulled him toward the open gate.

The angry, impatient guard who had spit on Judy had drawn his sidearm. With deliberate care, he raised it toward the back of Judy’s head.

Forgetting MC 4, Wayne threw himself against the man’s legs. The gun went off, firing into the ground. Both men fell, tripping some of the troops who had been shuffling in a crazed huddle with Hunter and Ishihara.

Steve blinked, staggering dizzily, and looked around. Judy was dragging him by the arm. Ishihara flung German soldiers away from himself. They fell against the semicircle of armed soldiers surrounding them. Some fired as they went down, but their bullets went wild into the air.

As Judy pushed Steve out the open gate, Ishihara threw himself on the ground over Wayne, protecting him. Then he reached into his tunic, apparently the same one he had worn in ancient Germany. Wayne and Ishihara vanished.

Jane had grabbed MC 4’s arm and was trying to pull him after her. He was not coming, but she had slowed him down. Hunter hurled the soldiers around him to the ground just as Steve and Judy reached him. Then Hunter stretched out one long arm and yanked MC 4 closer. Jane came with him, still holding the small robot’s arm. Steve saw Hunter reach inside his heavy overcoat.

An instant later, Steve found himself back in the familiar, crowded darkness of the sphere. No one spoke while Hunter opened it, jumped out, and pulled MC 4 into Room F-12 after him. Judy got out next; this time she and Jane had to help Steve climb out slowly. He was still dizzy.

“Hunter, Steve needs to be checked by a medical robot,” said Jane. “He’s hurt. I can’t tell if it’s serious or not.”

“I am radioing for one now,” said Hunter. He turned to MC 4. “Can you hear us speak?”

“Yes.”

“Jane, please give him direct instructions.”

“Do not make any attempt to get away or shut off your receptivity to our instructions under the Second Law,” Jane said, looking over her shoulder. “Stay right where you are until we give you further orders. Acknowledge.”

“I agree,” said MC 4.

Jane turned to Daladier, who still stood by the door. “Do not allow MC 4 to leave our custody. If he makes some interpretation of the First Law to justify it, he might still make an attempt to escape.”

“Acknowledged,” said Daladier.

Steve sank onto the couch. His head throbbed painfully, but he could think more clearly now, and followed the conversation around him. “Did we leave right in the middle of everybody?”

“Yes,” said Hunter. “However, I believe that in the crowd and confusion, with the battle coming near, stories of our disappearance will not be taken seriously.”

“The sad truth is, most of those prisoners died soon afterward in captivity,” said Judy. “Their stories about our disappearance, if they told them, had nowhere to go but to each other.”

“The German soldiers and guards may have lived to tell the story,” said Jane. “A few of them, anyway.”

“Some may have survived to talk about it,” said Judy. “Under the Nazi regime, I feel that anyone who said he lost custody of prisoners who vanished magically would not be taken seriously — he might even be punished for offering such a flimsy excuse. In a system that thrives on fear, the soldiers might have chosen not to repeat what they saw.”

“Our concern is a real one,” said Hunter. “If possible, we must not disappear in front of witnesses during future missions.”

“How did we happen to come across MC 4?” Steve muttered, looking up at him.

Jane turned to MC 4. “Tell us how you came to be a prisoner of the Germans.”

“I attempted to sneak up on the German lines and move past them,” said MC 4. “However, dawn was breaking by the time I had crossed the open territory and German sentries saw me. They trained their weapons on me and the Third Law required that I not take risks with them. They put me in a prison pen without interrogation. Then some soldiers came and began emptying each pen. They escorted us with weapons and told us which way to go. We marched from one pen to another down the rear of the lines until we reached the one where you were.”

“Lucky for us,” said Steve.

“Actually, chance factors were quite low,” said Hunter. “Under the pressure of impending combat, the Germans were imprisoning all strangers and marching them together out of the area. We were all caught in the same net. If we had not spotted him when we did, we would have had to return to our own time. However, in a later trip to complete the mission, we would have still have found him in the group marching to the rear.”

“What do you think?” Jane grinned at MC 4.

“I agree.”

“Steve,” said Hunter. “How are you feeling?”

“I think I’ll be okay.”

“With your permission, I shall contact the medical robot again and have him meet us at MC Governor’s office. Are you well enough to ride there?”

“Yeah.”

“Daladier, please remain here and continue to watch for Dr. Wayne Nystrom and R. Ishihara,” said Hunter.

“Of course.”

“Jane, please instruct MC 4,” said Hunter.

“You will remain with us as we move through Mojave Center to the office of MC Governor,” said Jane. “You will still cooperate with us fully and make no attempt to escape us or to interfere with our return to the office.”

“Acknowledged,” said MC 4.

Hunter led his team out. Steve gratefully allowed Jane to take his arm and support him. Hunter had a Security detail waiting to drive them back.

Outside the office of MC Governor, a medical robot was already waiting for them, holding his small black case of equipment.

“I am R. Cushing,” said the medical robot. “My ‘patient is named Steve, I have been told.”

“That’s me.”

Cushing stared at Steve for a long moment. “My specialized vision reveals no fracture. You will be fine.” He took a pressure gun from his black case and held it against the side of Steve’s neck. It popped against his skin. “This is a mild painkiller. My infrared vision tells me that the inflammation is localized and stable. For the swelling, I recommend that you apply ice.”

“Okay,” said Steve. “Thanks.”

“I shall leave you,” said Cushing. “I am permanently on call, so contact me if the situation changes. I do not expect it will.”

“Thank you,” said Hunter.

Cushing departed.

Jane came lip and gave Steve a quick hug. “I always knew you had a hard head.”

Judy walked up on the other side and gave him a hug, too. “That guy clobbered you after you knocked down the one who spit on me. He was about to shoot both of us. I’ll never forget that.”

Steve smiled wryly. “I won’t either.”

“I feel so bad about Ivana, too,” said Judy. “She was totally helpless, and completely innocent. I wonder what happened to her.”

Jane gave Judy a quick hug. “Whatever it was, it happened to her long before we ever went back and met her.”

Judy nodded.

“Those two regimes have disturbed me deeply,” said Hunter. “The earlier societies we have visited were primitive in their values because of their early place in social evolution. However, the Nazi regime and the Soviet Union were barbaric throwbacks. Their values were more primitive than those of many societies which had preceded them.”

“And they had the power of the industrial age to use in their atrocities.” Judy straightened, her voice firm.

“It’s fairly old history now,” said Jane.

“And the obligation of our time is to remember it,” said Judy. “The larger lesson is that technological development does not necessarily mean civilized values — we all have to remain on guard. Humans, unlike robots, have the power to choose how to behave.”

Everyone was silent for a moment. Then Judy shrugged, smiling self-consciously. “Well, end of lecture. Look, I want to clean up. Okay if I excuse myself!”

“Of course,” said Hunter.

“I’ll say good-bye a little later,” said Judy. She slipped out.

“We haven’t asked you about the nuclear explosion yet,” said Jane. “Hunter, I suppose you’ve been monitoring the news since we returned.”

“Yes. No explosion has taken place in Moscow.”

Steve looked up. “I feel better already. That stuff Cushing gave me works fast.”

“I have news of another nuclear explosion, however,” said Hunter. “I checked the sphere console before we left Room F-12 and the information matches. The current unexplained nuclear explosion has eliminated the city of Beijing, the capital of China. Millions have died already.”

“China?” Steve grinned. “On our next mission, I’ll be the one who fits in for a change.”

“What time in history will we visit this time?” Jane asked.

“The time of Kublai Khan, when he was Emperor of China.”

Sources of dates

(For Volume 2)

AD = Anno Domini

GE = Galactic Era

FE = Foundational Era

Robots in Time (Predator, Marauder, Warrior and Dictator in this volume) Stated in volume 1, Predator

Table of Contents

Title page

Copyright

Table of Contents

Predator

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

Marauder

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

Warrior

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

Dictator

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

Sources of dates