Asimov's Future History Volume 2

by Isaac Asimov

  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 waterfr
ont.

  “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.”