Robots and Empire (Page 39)

"Shall we retire?" said Daneel aloud.

"That would be disgraceful," said Gladia. "This is my world."

She held her ground and the five crewmen came closer in leisurely fashion.

They had been working, doing hard physical labor (Like robots, thought Gladia with distain) and they were sweating. Gladia became aware of the odor that reeked from them. That would have served to force her away more than threats would, but she held her ground even so. The nose plugs, she was sure, mitigated the effect of the smell.

The large crewman approached more closely than the others. His skin was bronzed. His bare arms glistened with moisture and with shining musculature. He might be thirty (as nearly as Gladia could judge the age of these shortlived beings) and if he were washed and properly dressed, he might prove quite presentable.

He said, "So you are the Spacer lady from Aurora that we’ve been carrying on our ship?" He spoke rather slowly, obviously trying to attain an aristocratic tinge to his Galactic. He failed, of course, and he spoke like a Settler – even more crudely than D.G. did.

Gladia said, establishing her territorial rights, "I am from Solaria, Settler," and stopped in confused embarrassment. She had spent so much time thinking of Solaria just now that twenty decades had dropped away and she had spoken with a thick Solarian accent. There was the broad "a" in Solaria and the rough "r," while the "i" sounded horribly like "Oi".

She said again, in a much lower, less commanding voice, but one in which the accent of Aurora University – the standard for Galactic speech through all the Spacer worlds – rang clear, "I am from Solaria, Settler."

The Settler laughed and turned to the others. "She speaks la-di-da, but she had to try. Right, mates?"

The others laughed, too, and one cried out, "Get her to talk some more, Niss. Maybe we can a learn to talk like Spacer birdies." And he placed one hand on his hip in as dainty a manner as he could manage, while holding the other hand out limply.

Niss said, still smiling, "Shut up, all of you." There was instant silence.

He turned to Gladia again, "I’m Berto Niss, First-Class Shipper. And your name, little woman?"

Gladia did not venture to speak again.

Niss said, "I’m being polite, little woman. I’m speaking gentlemanly. Spacer-like. I know you’re old enough to be my great-grandmother. How old you are you, little woman?"

"Four hundred," shouted one of the crewmen from behind Niss, "but she doesn’t look it!"

"She doesn’t look one hundred," said another.

"She looks suitable for a little ding-donging, said a third, "and hasn’t had any for a long time, I guess. Ask her if she’d want some, Niss. Be polite and ask if we – can take turns."

Gladia flushed angrily and Daneel said, "First-Class Shipper Niss, your companions are offending Madam Gladia. Would you retire?"

Niss turned to look at Daneel, whom, till now, he had totally ignored. The smile vanished from his face and he said, "Look, you. This little lady is off-limits. The captain said so. We won’t bother her. Just a little harmless talk. That thing there is a robot. We won’t bother with him and he can’t hurt us. We know the Three Laws of Robotics. We order him to stay away from us, see. But you are a Spacer and the captain has give us no orders about you. So you" – he pointed a finger – "stay out of this and don’t interfere or you’ll get your pretty skin all bruised up and then you might cry."

Daneel said nothing.

Niss nodded his head. "Good. I like to see someone smart enough not to start anything he can’t finish."

He turned to Gladia, "Now, little Spacer woman, we will leave you alone because the captain doesn’t want you bothered. If one of the men here made a crude remark, that’s only natural. Just shake hands and let’s be friends – Spacer, Settler, what’s the difference?"

He thrust out his hand toward Gladia, who shrank away in horror. Daneel’s hand moved outward in a flick that was almost too fast to see and caught Niss’s wrist. "First-Class Shipper Niss," he said quietly, "do not attempt to touch the lady."

Niss looked down at his hand and at the fingers that enclosed his wrist firmly. He said in a low and menacing growl, "You have till the count of three to let go."

Daneel’s hand fell away. He said, "I must do as you say for I do not wish to harm you, but I must protect the lady and if she doesn’t wish to be touched, as I believe she doesn’t, I may be forced into a position where I must cause you pain. Please, accept my assurance that I will do all I can to minimize that."

One of the crewmen shouted joyously, "Give it to him, Niss. He’s a talker."

Niss said, "Look, Spacer, twice I told you to keep out and you touched me once. Now I tell you a third time and that’s it. Make a move, say a word, and I take you apart. This little woman is going to shake hands, that’s all, friendly like. Then we all go. Fair enough?"

Gladia said in a low choking voice. "I won’t be touched by him. Do what is necessary."

Daneel said, "Sir, with all due respect, the lady does not wish to be touched. I must ask you – all of you – to leave."

Niss smiled and one large arm moved as though to brush Daneel to one side – and to do it hard.

Daneel’s left arm flickered and once again Niss was held by the wrist. "Please go, sir," said Daneel.

Niss’s teeth continued to show, but he was no longer smiling. Violently, he brought his arm up. Daneel’s enclosing hand moved up for a short distance, slowed, and came to a halt. His face showed no strain. His hand moved down, dragging Niss’s arm with it, and then, with a rapid twist, he bent Niss’s arm behind the Settler’s broad back and held it there.