Foundation and Chaos

85.

Mors Planch was taken from his cell in the Specials security bloc of Rikerian, far beneath the almost civilized cells where Seldon had been kept. He was given his personal goods and released without restrictions.

He dreaded his release more than incarceration, until he learned that Farad Sinter was dead, then he wondered if he had been part of some intricate conspiracy arranged by Linge Chen-and perhaps by the robots.

He enjoyed this confusing freedom for one day. Then, at his newly leased apartment in the Gessim Sector, hundreds of kilometers from the palace, and not nearly far enough, he received an unexpected visitor.

The robot’s facial structure had changed slightly since Mors had made the unfortunate automatic record of his conversation with Lodovik Trema. Still, Mors recognized him instantly

Daneel stood in the vestibule just beyond the door, while Mors observed him on the security screen. He suspected it would be useless to try any evasion, or simply to leave the door unanswered. Besides, after all this time, his worst trait was coming to the fore once again.

He was curious. If death was inevitable, he hoped to have time to answer a few questions.

He opened the door.

“I’ve been half expecting you,” Mors said. “Though I don’t really know who or what you are. I must assume you are not here to kill me.”

Daneel smiled stiffly and entered. Mors watched him pass into the apartment and studied this tall, well-built, apparently male machine. The quiet restrained grace, the sense of immense but gentle strength, must have stood this Eternal in good stead over the millennia. What genius had designed and built him-and for what purpose? Surely not as a mere servant! Yet that was what the mythical robots had once been-mere servants.

“I am not here to take revenge,” Daneel said.

“So reassuring,” Mors said, taking a seat in the small dining area, the only room other than the combined bath and bedroom.

“In a few days, there will be an order from the Emperor for you to leave Trantor.”

Mors pursed his lips. “How sad,” he said. “Klayus doesn’t like me.” But the irony was lost on Daneel, or irrelevant.

“I have need of a very good pilot,” Daneel said. “One who has no hope of going anywhere in the Empire and surviving.”

“What sort of job?” Mors asked, his expression taking a little twist. He could feel the trap closing once more. “Assassination?”

“No,” Daneel said. “Transport. There are some people, and two robots, who must leave Trantor. They will never return, either. Most of them, at any rate.”

“Where will I take them?”

“I will tell you in good time. Do you accept the commission?”

Mors laughed bitterly. “How can you expect loyalty?” he demanded. “Why shouldn’t I just dump them somewhere, or kill them outright?”

“That will not be possible,” Daneel said softly. “You will understand after you meet them. It will not be a difficult job, but it will almost certainly be without incident. Perhaps you will find it boring.”

“I doubt that,” Mors said. “If I’m bored, I’ll just think about you, and the misery you’ve caused me.”

Daneel looked puzzled. “Misery?”

“You’ve played me like a musical instrument. You must have known my sympathy for Madder Loss, my hatred for what Linge Chen and the Empire stand for! You wanted me to record you and Lodovik Trema. You made sure Farad Sinter would hear of me and my connection with Lodovik. It was a gamble, though, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, of course. Your feelings made you very useful.”

Mors sighed. “And after I’ve made this delivery?”

“You will resume your life on any world outside of Imperial control. There will be more and more of them in the coming years.”

“No interference from you?”

“None,” Daneel said.

“Free to do whatever I want, and tell people what happened here?”

“If you wish,” Daneel said. “There will be adequate pay,” he added. “As always.”

“No!” Mors barked. “Absolutely no pay. No money. Just arrange for me to take my assets off Trantor and-away from a couple of other worlds. They will be all I need.”

“That has already been arranged,” Daneel said.

This infuriated Mors even more. “I will be so skying glad when you stop anticipating everything and anything!”

“Yes,” Daneel said, and nodded sympathetically. “Do you accept?”

“Bloody bright suns, yes! When the time comes, tell me where to be, but please, no earnest farewells! I never want to see you again!”

Daneel nodded assent. “There will be no need to meet again. All will be ready in two days.”

Mors tried to slam the door behind Daneel, but it was not that kind of door, and would not accept such a dramatic gesture.