Asimov's Future History Vol 2

by Isaac Asimov

  “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 hav
e 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 fo
r 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?”