Baley said, with a spark of annoyance, “Why was my leaving an illogical thing to do?”

“He didn’t say, Elijah. Do you wish to ask him?” She gestured toward Giskard.

Baley said, “Giskard, what’s this?”

Giskard’s impassivity was disrupted at once and his eyes focused on Baley. He said, “I felt that you had exposed yourself to the storm unnecessarily. If you had waited, we would have brought you here sooner.”

“The other robots might have gotten to me first.”

“They did—but you had sent them away, sir.”

“How do you know that?”

“There were many robotic footprints around the doors on either side, sir, but there was no sign of dampness within the airfoil, as there would have been if wet arms had reached in to lift you out. I judged you would not have gotten out of the airfoil of your own accord in order to join them, sir. And, having sent them away, you need not have feared they would return very quickly, since it was Daneel they were after—by your own estimate of the situation—and not you. In addition, you might have been certain that I would have been back quickly.”

Baley muttered, “I reasoned precisely in that manner but I felt that confusing the issue might help further. I did what seemed best to me and you did find me, even so.”

“Yes, sir.”

Baley said, “But why bring me here? If we were close to Gladia’s establishment, we were just as close, perhaps closer, to Dr. Fastolfe’s.”

“Not quite, sir. This residence was somewhat closer and I judged, from the urgency of your orders, that every moment counted in securing Daneel’s safety. Daneel concurred in this, though he was most reluctant to leave you. Once he was here, I felt you would want to be here, too, so that you could, if you desired, assure yourself of his safety firsthand.”

Baley nodded and, said grumpily (he was still annoyed at that remark concerning his illogicality), “You did well, Giskard.”

Gladia said, “Is it important that you see Dr. Fastolfe, Elijah? I can have him summoned here. Or you can view him trimensionally.”

Baley leaned back in his chair again. He had leisure to realize that his thought processes were blunted and that he was very tired. It would do him no good to face Fastolfe now. He said, “No. I’ll see him tomorrow after breakfast. Time enough. And then I think I’ll be seeing this man, Kelden Amadiro, the head of the Robotics Institute. And a high official—what d’you call him?—the Chairman. He will be there, too, I suppose.”

“You look terribly tired, Elijah,” said Gladia. “Of course, we don’t have those microorganisms—those germs and viruses—that you have on Earth and you’ve been cleaned out so you won’t get any of the diseases they have all over your planet, but you’re clearly tired.”

Baley thought: After all that, no cold? No flu? No pneumonia?—There was something to being on a Spacer world at that.

He said, “I admit I’m tired, but that can be cured by a bit of rest.”

“Are you hungry? It’s dinnertime.”

Baley made a face. “I don’t feel like eating.”

“I’m not sure that’s wise. You don’t want a heavy meal, perhaps, but how about some hot soup. It will do you good.”

Baley felt the urge to smile. She might be Solarian, but given the proper circumstances she sounded exactly like art Earth-woman. He suspected that this would be true of Aurorans as well. There are some things that differences in culture don’t touch.

He said, “Do you have soup available? I don’t want to be a problem.”

“How can you be a problem? I have a staff—not a large one, as on Solaria, but enough to prepare any reasonable item of food on short order.—Now you just sit there and tell me, what kind of soup you would like. It will all be taken care of.”

Baley couldn’t resist. “Chicken soup?”

“Of course.” Then innocently, “Just what I would have suggested—and with lumps of chicken, so that it will be substantial.”

The bowl was put before him with surprising speed. He said, “Aren’t you going to eat, Gladia?”

“I’ve eaten already, while you were being bathed and treated.”

“Treated?”

“Only routine biochemical adjustment, Elijah. You had been rather psychic-damaged and we wanted no repercussions.—Do eat!”

Baley lifted an experimental spoonful to his lips. It was not bad chicken soup, though it had the queer tendency of Auroran food to be rather spicier than Baley would prefer. Or perhaps it was prepared with different spices than those he was used to.

He remembered his mother suddenly—a sharp thrust of memory that made her appear younger than he himself was right now. He remembered her standing over him when he rebelled at eating his “nice soup.”

She would say to him, “Come, Lije. This is real chicken and very expensive. Even the Spacers don’t have anything better.”

They didn’t. He called to her in his, mind across the years: They don’t, Mom!

Really! If he could trust memory and allow for the power of youthful taste buds, his mother’s chicken soup, when it wasn’t dulled by repetition, was far superior.

He sipped again and again—and when he finished, he muttered in a shamefaced way, “Would there be a little more?”

“As much as you want, Elijah.”

“Just a little more.”

Gladia said to him, as he was finishing, “Elijah, this meeting tomorrow morning—”

“Yes, Gladia?”

“Does it mean that your investigation is over? Do you know what happened to Jander?”

Baley said judiciously, “I have an idea as to what might have happened to Jander. I don’t think I can necessarily persuade anyone that I am right.”

“Then why are you having the conference?”

“It’s not my idea, Gladia. It’s Master Roboticist Amadiro’s idea. He objects to the investigation and he’s going to try to have me sent back to Earth.”

“Is he the one who tampered with your airfoil and tried to have his robots take Daneel?”

“I think he is.”

“Well, can’t he be tried and convicted and punished for that?”

“He certainly could,” said Baley feelingly, “except for the very small problem that I can’t prove it.”

“And can he do all that and get away with it—and stop the investigation, too?”

“I’m afraid he has a good chance of being able to do so. As he himself says, people who don’t expect justice don’t have to suffer disappointment.”

“But he mustn’t. You mustn’t let him. You’ve got to complete your investigation and find out the truth.”

Baley sighed. “What if I can’t find out the truth? Or what if I can—but can’t make people listen to me?”

“You can find out the truth. And you can make people listen to you.”

“You have a touching faith in me, Gladia. Still, if the Auroran World Legislature wants to send me back and orders the investigation ended, there’s nothing I’m going to be able to do about it.”

“Surely you won’t be willing to go back with nothing accomplished.”

“Of course I won’t. It’s worse than just accomplishing nothing, Gladia. I’ll go back with my career ruined and with Earth’s future destroyed.”

“Then don’t let them do that, Elijah.”

And he said, “Jehoshaphat, Gladia, I’m going to try not to, but I can’t lift a planet with my bare hands. You can’t ask me for miracles.”

Gladia nodded and, eyes downcast, put her fist to her mouth, sitting there motionlessly, as though in thought. It took a while for Baley to realize that she was weeping soundlessly.