He had lost contact with reality, for he was becoming aware of Daneel’s voice as though it were reaching him from a long distance. It sounded as though Daneel was feeling something akin to panic.
“Partner Elijah, do you hear me?”
Giskard’s voice, from an equal distance, said, “We must carry him.”
“No,” mumbled Baley. “Let me walk.”
Perhaps they did not hear him. Perhaps he did not really speak, but merely thought he did. He felt himself lifted from the ground. His left arm dangled helplessly and he strove to lift it, to push it against someone’s shoulder, to lift himself upright again from the waist, to grope for the floor with his feet and stand upright.
But his left arm continued to dangle helplessly and his striving went for nothing.
He was somehow aware that he was moving through the air and he felt a wash of spray against his face. Not actually water but the sifting of damp air. Then there was the pressure of a hard surface against his left side, a more resilient one against his right side.
He was in the airfoil, wedged in once more between Giskard and Daneel. What he was most conscious of was that Giskard was very wet.
He felt a jet of warm air cascading over him. Between the near-darkness outside and the film of trickling water upon the glass, they might as well have been opacified—or so Baley thought till opacification actually took place and total darkness descended. The soft noise of the jet, as the airfoil rose above the grass and swayed, muted, the thunder and seemed to draw its teeth.
Giskard said, “I regret the discomfort of my wet surface, Sir. I will dry quickly. We will wait here a short while till you recover.”
Baley was breathing more easily. He felt wonderfully and comfortably enclosed. He thought: Give me back my City. Wipe out all the Universe and let the Spacers colonize it. Earth is all we need.
And even as he thought it, he knew it was his madness that believed it, not he.
He felt the need to keep his mind busy.
He said weakly, “Daneel.”
“Yes, Partner Elijah?”
“About the Chairman. Is it your opinion that Amadiro was judging the situation correctly in supposing that the Chairman would put an end to the investigation or was he perhaps allowing his wishes to do his thinking for him?”
“It may be, Partner Elijah, that the Chairman will indeed interview Dr. Fastolfe and Amadiro on the matter. It would be a standard procedure for settling a dispute—of this nature. There are ample precedents.”
“But why?” asked Baley weakly. “If Amadiro was so persuasive, why should not the Chairman simply order the investigation stopped?”
“The Chairman,” said Daneel, “is in a difficult political situation. He agreed originally to allow you to be brought to Aurora at Dr. Fastolfe’s urging and he cannot so sharply reverse himself so soon without making himself look weak and irresolute—and without angering, Dr. Fastolfe, who is still a very influential figure in the Legislature.”
“Then why did he not simply turn down Amadiro’s request?”
“Dr. Amadiro is also influential, Partner Elijah, and likely to grow even more so. The Chairman must temporize by hearing both sides and by giving at least the appearance of deliberation, before coming to a decision.”
“Based on what?”
“On the merits of the case, we must presume.”
“Then by tomorrow morning, I must come up with something that will persuade the Chairman to side with Fastolfe, rather than against him. If I do that, will that mean victory?”
Daneel said, “The Chairman is not all-powerful, but his influence is great. If he comes out strongly on Dr. Fastolfe’s side, then, under the present political conditions, Dr. Fastolfe will probably win the backing of the Legislature.”
Baley found himself beginning to think clearly again. “That would seem explanation enough for Amadiro’s attempt to delay us. He might have reasoned that I had nothing yet to offer the Chairman and he needed only to delay to keep me from getting anything in the time that remained to me.”
“So it would seem, Partner Elijah.”
“And he let me go only when he thought he could rely on the storm continuing to keep me.”
“Perhaps so, Partner Elijah—”
“In that case, we cannot allow the storm to stop us.”
Giskard said calmly, “Where do you wish to be taken, sir?”
“Back to the establishment of Dr. Fastolfe.”
Daneel said, “May we have one moment’s more pause, Partner Elijah? Do you plan to tell Dr. Fastolfe that you cannot continue the investigation?”
Baley said sharply, “Why do you say that?” It was a measure of his recovery that his voice was loud and angry.
Daneel said, “It is merely that I fear you might have forgotten for a moment that Dr. Amadiro urged you to do so for the sake of Earth’s welfare.”
“I have not forgotten,” said Baley grimly, “and I am surprised, Daneel, that you should think that that would influence me. Fastolfe must be exonerated and Earth must send its settlers outward into the Galaxy. If there is danger in that from the Globalists, that danger must be chanced.”
“But, in that case, Partner Elijah, why go back to Dr. Fastolfe? It doesn’t seem to me that we have anything of moment to report to him. Is there no direction in which we can further continue our investigation before reporting to Dr. Fastolfe?”
Baley sat up in his seat and placed his hand on Giskard, who was now entirely dry. He said, in quite a normal voice, “I am satisfied with the progress I have already made, Daneel. Let’s get moving, Giskard. Proceed to Fastolfe’s establishment.”
And then, tightening his fists and stiffening his body, Baley added, “What’s more, Giskard, clear the windows. I want to look out into the face of the storm.”
62
Baley held his breath in preparation for transparency. The small box of the airfoil would no longer be entirely enclosed; it would no longer have unbroken walls.
As the windows clarified, there was a flash of light that came and went too quickly to do anything but darken the world by contrast.
Baley could not prevent his cringe as be tried to steel himself for the thunder which, after a moment or two, rolled and grumbled.
Daneel said pacifyingly, “The storm will get no worse and soon enough it will recede.”
“I don’t care whether it recedes or not,” said Baley through, trembling lips. “Come on. Let’s go.” He was trying, for his own sake, to maintain the illusion of a human being in charge of robots.
The airfoil rose slightly in the air and at once underwent a sideways movement that tilted it so that Baley felt himself pushing hard against Giskard.
Baley cried out (gasped out, rather), “Straighten the vehicle, Giskard!”
Daneel placed his arm around Baley’s shoulder and pulled him gently back. His other arm was braced about a hand-grip attached to the frame of the airfoil.
“That cannot be done, Partner Elijah,” Daneel said. “There is a fairly strong wind.”
Baley felt his hair bristle. “You mean—we’re going to be blown away?”
“No, of course not,” said Daneel. “If the car were antigrav form of technology that does not, of course, exist—and if its mass and inertia were eliminated, then it would be blown like a feather high into the air. However, we retain our full mass even when our jets lift us and poise us in the air, so our inertia resists the wind. Nevertheless, the wind makes us sway, even though the car remains completely under Giskard’s control.”
“It doesn’t feel like it.” Baley was conscious of a thin whine, which he imagined to be the wind curling around the body of the airfoil as it cut its way through the protesting atmosphere. Then the airfoil lurched and Baley, who could not for his life have helped it, seized Daneel in a desperate grip around the neck.