Robots and Empire

88

A number of things happened at nearly the same time.

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

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

The sound of the blaster rang out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He ran toward the crowd.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you of Auroran origin?”

The assassin did not answer.

Daneel said quickly, “I know you are. It was an u

The assassin did not answer.

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

The assassin said. “You ca

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about medical attention for the prisoner?” asked one of the guards.

“That will not be necessary, sir,” said Daneel. He did not explain.

89

“That this should have happened,” said Andrev tightly, his lips trembling with passion. They were in the room off the balcony and he glanced up at the hole in the ceiling that remained as mute evidence of the violence that had taken place.

Gladia said, in a voice that she strove successfully to keep from shaking, “Nothing has happened. I am unharmed. There is that hole in the ceiling that you will have to repair and perhaps some additional repairs in the room above. That’s all.”

Even as she spoke, she could hear people upstairs moving objects away from the hole and presumably assessing damage.

“That is not all,” said Andrev. “It ruins our plans for your appearance tomorrow, for your major address to the planet.”

“It does the opposite,” said Gladia. “The planet will be the more anxious to hear me, knowing I have been the near victim of an assassination attempt.”

“But there’s the chance of another attempt.”

Gladia shrugged lightly. “That just makes me feel I’m on the right track. Secretary-General Andrev, I discovered not too long ago that I have a mission in life. It did not occur to me that this mission might place me in danger, but since it does, it also occurs to me that I would not be in danger and not worth the killing if I was not striking home. If danger is a measure of my effectiveness, I am willing to risk that danger.”

Giskard said, “Madam Gladia, Daneel is here with, I presume, the individual who aimed a blaster in this direction.”

It was not only Daneel—carrying a relaxed, unstruggling figure—who appeared in the doorway of the room, but half a dozen security guards as well. Outside, the noise of the crowd seemed lower and more distant. It was clearly begi

Andrev waved the guards away. “Is that the one?” he asked sharply.

Daneel said, “There is no question, sir, but that this is the individual with the blaster. The weapon was near him, but the people close to the scene witnessed his action, and he himself admits the deed.”

Andrev stared at him in astonishment. “He’s so calm. He doesn’t seem human.”

“He is not human, sir. He is a robot, a humanoid robot.”

“But we don’t have any humanoid robots on Earth.—Except you.”

“This robot, Secretary-General,” said Daneel, “is, like myself, of Auroran manufacture.”

Gladia frowned. “But that’s impossible. A robot couldn’t have been ordered to assassinate me.”

D.G., looking exasperated and, with a most possessive arm about Gladia’s shoulder, said in an angry rumble, “An Auroran robot, specially programmed—”

“Nonsense, D.G.,” said Gladia. “No way. Auroran or not, special programming or not, a robot ca

“To what end?” demanded Andrev. “Why should he miss, madam?”

“Don’t you see?” said Gladia. “Whoever it was that gave the robot, its orders must have felt that the attempt would be enough to disrupt my plans here on Earth and it was the disruption they were after. They couldn’t order the robot to kill me, but they could order him to miss me—and if that was enough to disrupt the program, they would be satisfied.