“Hell! You’re right, Donald,” Kresh said. “And it’s worked beautifully.”

“But what?” Tonya Welton asked. “Diverted you from what?”

“It’s like the questions we can’t ask the men that aren’t here,” Kresh said. “We don’t know precisely because it worked.”

He stood up and shook his head. “One thing I do know. Donald and I were on our way to have a little chat with the Governor on the subject of security before all this happened. I don’t think we’d best delay it any longer. ” Sheriff Kresh nodded to the leader of the Settlers and left the room, followed by Donald.

Kresh was halfway down the hallway before something else very strange occurred to him. He stopped for a moment to think it through. Caliban and Prospero. They were neither of them bound to prevent harm to humans. Caliban had no Laws at all, while Prospero’s First Law was modified. He was enjoined against doing harm to humans-but there was nothing that forced him to prevent harm. Once he had left the scene of the fight, Kresh hadn’t thought about it, any more than he would have been surprised to find that the rain made him wet. After all, it was part of the natural order of things for robots to break up fights.

“Donald,” he said. “You seemed unconcerned to see Prospero and Caliban restraining the combatants, yet you knew neither of them was possessed of the full First Law. Weren’t you at all concerned?”

“No, sir, I was not. My dealings with New Law beings have been rather limited, and I have but rarely encountered Caliban. However, I have thought a great deal on the question of how to predict the behavior of sentient non-humans that do not have the Three Laws. ”

“‘Sentient nonhumans that do not have the Three Laws. ’ That’s a mouthful.”

“I do not feel it appropriate to refer to beings such as Caliban and Prospero as robots,” Donald replied.

Kresh couldn’t help but be amused by Donald’s hairsplitting, but he did have a point. “How about calling them ‘pseudo-robots’ instead?”

“That does seem less cumbersome. In any event, I concluded some time ago that the best way to deal with such pseudo-robots is to assume they will react in the same way as a rational human being would-with a basis of self-interest, and with a certain limited amount of altruism. Once the two pseudo-robots had restrained the combatants, I had no reason to fear for the humans at their hands, any more than I would have feared them being attacked by two humans acting to restrain them.”

“But why did they do it?” Kresh asked. “They were under no compulsion to act. ”

“As I said, sir, enlightened self-interest. To put it somewhat crudely, by acting to protect human beings, they made themselves look good.”

“Donald, I am surprised. I never suspected you of cynicism.”

“It would depend on the subject under discussion,” Donald said, a bit primly. “On the question of beings who pretend to be human for gain, I think you will find me to be nothing if not suspicious. Shall we go talk with the Governor?”

“By all means,” Kresh said, working hard to hide a smile from Donald.

Tonya Welton watched the Sheriff and Donald leave, then got up from her seat and smiled at Caliban and Prospero. “I have not had a chance to thank both of you properly, “ she said. “I fear I wasn’t very gracious about your restraining me, Caliban, but you were quite right to do so. Things could have been much worse. ”

“I am pleased to have been of help,” Caliban replied, feeling a bit uncertain.

“Thanks to you as well, Prospero,” she said.

“It was a pleasure to be of service,” he replied.

“I must return to the party,” Madame Welton said, “but once again, I do thank you for your assistance. ”

Caliban watched as she left. Of all the humans Caliban knew, Madame Welton was perhaps the most baffling of all. She seemed to insist on treating any robot, all robots, as full-fledged human beings, even in the case of low-end units where it was patently absurd. Perhaps it was some strange principle or other that she felt obliged to uphold, but even so it was confusing. Did she treat Caliban and Prospero with respect because she felt they deserved respect? Or only because doing so annoyed the Spacers?

“Do you think we did the right thing?” Prospero asked. “Was it wise to ape the behavior of standard robots?”

“I am not sure,” Caliban said. Things were so difficult to judge. He, Caliban, was capable of things Prospero was not, and that might well prove useful in the near future. It would be wise to avoid reminding people of that. “Certainly no one could fault us for it, and certainly we could not have stood idly by-that would have looked very bad indeed. But bringing ourselves to the attention of Sheriff Kresh-if things go wrong, that could have a very high price indeed. We must tread most carefully if our plans are to succeed. ”

Alvar Kresh and Donald found Chanto Grieg, Governor of the planet Inferno, standing in the shadows on the upper landing, looking down, unseen, over the room full of smiling, laughing people. “The evening is off to a good start, aside from Beddle’s entrance and the Welton incident,” Grieg said as he saw them approaching.

“Aside from those things, yes, sir,” Kresh said. “But they are a great deal to leave to one side.”

“Oh, Beddle was bound to do a little grandstanding, and I don’t think that one little scuffle is anything to concern us. I should be able to make my entrance to good effect,” the Governor said. “And make it strictly according to plan. Don’t you think so, Sheriff Kresh?”

Sheriff Alvar Kresh grunted noncommittally as he stepped to the Governor’s side. Maybe to a politician, a room jam-packed with all manner of people was a good thing. Not to a policeman-and especially not to a policeman who was outside his jurisdiction and standing next to a man who received a half-dozen death threats a week. But still, the question deserved some sort of polite answer. “It’s a splendid party, Governor.”

Alvar leaned over the rail next to Grieg and ran his fingers through his thick white hair-something he only did when he was on edge. He glanced over his shoulder at Donald. It had to be his imagination, of course, but it seemed to him that Donald looked just as ill at ease as Alvar was himself.

The thought was ridiculous, of course. Donald didn’t have expressions-or emotions to express, for that matter. His face was nothing more than two immobile, glowing eyes and a speaker grill, as motionless and unreadable as could be.

But for all of that, Donald did seem edgy. Kresh shook his head to himself. He was imagining things. It happened when he got jumpy.

The Governor should never have come to Purgatory with the situation as unsettled as it was. But then, from the politician’s point of view, it was the very fact of things being unsettled, out of control, that made a visit here necessary. The Governor needed to be seen as in command, in charge, secure enough to host a party and a conference. That he plainly wasn’t in control only made the need all the more urgent.

Grieg glanced over at Alvar and smiled again, but there was something stiff, theatrical, about the expression, and a glint of something very like fear in the man’s eyes. He knows, Kresh thought. That was the damned thing about it. Grieg knew perfectly well that he was taking his life in his hands tonight. It wasn’t that he was deluding himself, or ignoring the danger, or brushing the warnings aside. He knew-and yet he went on anyway. Kresh could admire the man’s courage, but that didn’t mean it didn’t scare the hell out of him.

Chanto Grieg was a bit over fifty standard years, barely more than a youth by the standards of the long-lived Spacers. He was a short and dark-skinned man. Tonight he was wearing his shoulder-length black hair in a thick, ropy braid at the back of his head. He was a bit on the sharp-faced side, with dark brown eyes. He was wearing a handsome burgundy suit, set off with black piping at the shoulders and waist. His black trousers had a burgundy stripe down the outer seam. He presented a striking appearance.