When I got back to the theater and started climbing the stairs, I heard voices and knew that Larch and Slezak had returned. When I went in, Janet ran to me all excited. “Barney!” she cried. “You’ve come back!”

  Larry was more critical of what I’d done. He said, “Barney, you shouldn’t have run away.”

  “No one ordered me not to walk,” I said.

  Slezak was sitting in a chair smoking a big cigar.

  Larch was sitting in a chair also, but he did not have a cigar. He was just sitting there doing what Slezak had told him to do—keeping his mouth shut.

  Slezak smiled at Larry and said, “Young man, you’ll have to learn to handle robots. They can’t think by themselves. They always have to be told what to do.” Slezak was different than he had been before. He was acting, and he was just as good an actor as Granddad. Maybe better, because he could act without letting people know that he was doing it.

  Janet was looking at Larry and laughing. “Larry has read a lot of books about robots.”

  Larry scowled and said, “You be quiet.”

  Granddad scowled too. “Both of you be quiet. The gentleman and I are talking.”

  Slezak said, “To get back to it, Mr. Ravencraft, we are most interested in your fine project. Far too little is being done to spread brotherhood and understanding among the peoples of the planets. And what better way is there to do it than through culture and art?”

  “That has always been my contention, sir,” Granddad said. “And what better way to bring them art and culture than through the presentation of Shakespeare’s plays? The Bard spoke a universal language. His truths are as potent in the far reaches of space as here on Earth.”

  “True—true. I’m sure many people agree.”

  “They agree, but—”

  “But they are not willing to help much?”

  “They have helped greatly, sir. My plea for funds has not gone unanswered. A spaceship is an expensive proposition, but through public generosity we have managed to buy the Gallant Lady and equip her.”

  “Then your difficulties are over.”

  “Not exactly. There is the matter of operating funds.”

  “I suspected as much, and we would like to help.” Granddad’s smile was a beautiful thing to see. “God bless you, sir! It was providential that the search for your robot brought you to us.”

  If providential meant what I thought it did, Granddad couldn’t have been more wrong. It seemed strange that he couldn’t see through Slezak. But humans are that way. It is very easy for them to believe what they want to believe. Slezak was offering Granddad some help with his dream. That changed things. It put Granddad on Slezak’s side, which was just where Slezak wanted him.

  Slezak said, “It would seem to me that Colony City on New Mars is the place to launch your brotherhood project. The races of all the planets are to be found there. They could see your plays and carry the message back to their worlds.”

  “A capital idea! It harmonizes with my own thinking.”

  “How big a cast do you plan to assemble?”

  “None, except for my grandchildren, who are well versed in Shakespeare. I thought it would be a master stroke to recruit our actors from the native populations we come into contact with.”

  “An inspiration!” Slezak cried. “Truly an inspiration!”

  It was certainly an impressive idea.

  Slezak got up from his chair like a man about to make an announcement. He said, “Mr. Larch and I would be honored if you would allow us to finance your entire tour.”

  Tears came into Granddad’s eyes. It was easy to see how much his dream meant to him.

  “You—you overwhelm me, sir!”

  “We not only wish to finance it, but we would like to accompany you. We have no acting talent. We are only two humble admirers of the immortal Bard. But perhaps our presence might lend something to the spirit of the project.”

  “You honor us, sir,” Granddad said. “The play’s the thing, wherein we’ll catch the conscience of worlds!”

  Hamlet, Act Two, Scene Two. But not exactly the way William Shakespeare wrote it. Granddad was just using Hamlet’s lines for his own purpose, which humans do a lot, and it is all right.

  They shook hands. Slezak said, “Suppose we leave the robot here. The children seem to enjoy having it around.”

  “Indeed they do.”

  “We can call it a symbol of our good faith.”

  Larry was grinning happily. “That’ll be great!”

  Slezak said, “It’s settled, then. Suppose we meet at three o’clock tomorrow afternoon at the spaceport. We would like to inspect your ship.”

  Granddad agreed and they left. After the door closed, I kept on listening. My diaphragms are very sensitive, and I could hear them talking clear to the bottom of the stairs.

  Slezak was proud of his acting and wanted to be complimented. “How did I do?”

  Larch answered, “You done swell!” His tone was fervent, indicating sincere admiration.

  Janet was just as sincere in her suspicions. After they were gone, she said, “Granddad, don’t you think there was something fishy about those characters?”

  “What do you mean, child?”

  “I don’t quite know myself. It was the immortal Bard thing, I guess. I don’t think either of them would know Shakespeare from a weather report.”

  “How can you say that? Didn’t they pattern their robot to the immortal literature?”

  “Maybe. But they gave me a funny feeling.”

  Larry had come over and was studying the way my control box—that’s my head—was fastened onto my torso box, where the rest of my components are located.

  “They did leave Barney with us,” he said.

  “Well, all they seemed to be able to do was lose him. At least with us he came home of his own accord.”

  “You are unjustly suspicious, Janet,” Granddad said. “They certainly proved their good intentions. Let us not be too critical. And by the way, isn’t it about dinnertime?”

  Janet sighed. Evidently cooking was her job. She looked at me wistfully. “Barney, can you cook?”

  I replied, “Yes.”

  She was amazed. “No fooling?”

  “I transferred the contents of four cookbooks to my memory bank.” As I said it, I knew it was the truth. But I did not have the vaguest idea why or when I did it.

  Janet pointed. “Well, there’s the kitchen. Get to work.”

  I went to the kitchen and checked the freezer. I also looked through the pantry and then decided on southern-fried chicken, a quick and easy dish.

  While I worked, I thought about things. One of them was why Slezak had left me with the Ravencrafts. He should have been afraid to do this for fear they would learn things he could not want them to know, like the real reason he wanted to go to Mars with them on the Gallant Lady.

  There was only one answer to that. He was sure I didn’t know. Therefore, it followed logically that he’d been the one who had tampered with my memory circuits. But when, and for what reason?

  While the chicken fried, I wondered about Professor Dixon, and a little more information seeped out. I knew what he looked like.

  He was a tall, thin man with black hair, and quite often he got an itch between his shoulderblades where he couldn’t reach. I could remember him saying, “Scratch right there, Barney—no, a little lower—ah, that’s fine.” I knew he had a quiet, well-modulated voice and never got excited.

  But where was he? If I’d known, I would probably have risked running away again to see him.

  But there is no point in being disobedient if it isn’t going to get you anything. . . .

  4.

  The Gallant Lady

  We went to the spaceport to meet Larch and Slezak the next day, and I was glad the Ravencrafts took me along. They gave me a trunk to carry, but I didn’t mind that because it only weighed about four hundred pounds and was no trouble. I am six feet tall, and a 69S Wellington is specified to carry a thousand pounds without strain.

  A spaceport is a very beautiful place, especially at night, when all the lights are on. It is the place where the big spacers come home after riding the star lanes to other planets. If you are there at the right time you can see their blue jet trails as they orbit in. At first the trails are like tiny bright stars shooting across the sky. Then they get longer and brighter, and the shining ship appears and sets down in a blaze of orange-and-red fire.

  The big gleaming passenger liners are especially beautiful. But there are all kinds of spaceships, and we went into the area where the freighters are parked, which isn’t quite the same as the passenger area. The freighters were space-burned and pockmarked from meteor showers—most of them—because nobody cared much how they looked.

  The Gallant Lady was an old Series 4 Bellman solid-fuel freighter, and she looked as though she would need at least two jumps to get into space. She was fat in the middle, because speed was no great object with the small ore carriers. Her fins slanted out in a way that made her look as if she had bowed legs, and there was something about the nose design of the old Bellmans that made them look sad and discouraged. Most of them had been retired.

  As we approached the ship, we heard Slezak call to us from the direction of the passenger area, and we waited until he and Larch got there.

  Granddad smiled at them and then beamed on the ship as he waved a proud hand. “There she is, gentlemen. The Gallant Lady P

  I thought Larch was suddenly having a stroke. “That bucket of bolts?” he gasped.

  Janet flared instantly. “Well, if you don’t like her, you don’t have to go.”

  But nobody was paying any attention to her. Larch just stared, and Slezak looked at Granddad as if he thought it was some kind of a joke, but he kept his thoughts to himself.

  Granddad said, “She has, of course, been modernized.

  She has an auxiliary fuel tank, and the new automatic pilot has been passed by the Authority.”

  That, of course, went without saying. The Baer automatic pilot was required equipment on all spaceships. And if the one on the Gallant Lady hadn’t been certified, she wouldn’t be going anywhere.

  The Space Authority laws are very strict. You tell them where you want to go, and if it’s all right, they cut a pilot tape for you and put it into the Baer automatic with a seal that must not be broken. The pilot tape guides the ship to your destination and then brings you back again.

  Everybody talks about free space and the freedom of the star lanes, so the way they did it might have seemed odd. But there was a very good reason. Space is dangerous, and the rules help the patrols to know where you are if you get into trouble, so that they can come and get you. Also, the rules keep two spacers from trying to set down on the same spot at the same time. That can be very bad.

  The rules are necessary, too, because with spacers practically running themselves, humans who know nothing about them go blasting off every day. That might seem strange on the face of it, but it isn’t. People drive cars and motorboats all the time without any idea of what makes them go. And when something goes wrong, they stop and wait for somebody to come and help them. It’s the same in space, and it seems to work pretty well.

  “Step inside, gentlemen,” Granddad was saying. “I’ll show you a stout ship.” And if stout meant fat, she certainly was.

  She didn’t look nearly so bad inside. A lot of changes had been made. The Series 4 Bellmans were built to carry as much ore as possible. There were cramped quarters for the pilot and his assistant in the prow, with a narrow companionway leading aft to the burners and main jets and fuel tanks, with nothing but ore bins on either side.

  But the forward bins of the Gallant Lady had been rebuilt into cabins and even an observation lounge with clear quartz view plates.

  Slezak seemed a little more relaxed, but Larch still walked as though he expected the bulkheads to cave in on him.

  I heard him whisper to Slezak, “Let’s forget the whole thing. This tub’s a flying coffin. I want to live to spend the stuff we’re going to pick up.”

  Slezak whispered back, “Shut up!” Then he rubbed his hands together and smiled at Granddad. “Fine! Excellent. She will do nicely to carry our dedicated little band of thespians to the stars.”

  I didn’t know what thespian meant. But Janet was frowning at Slezak and Larch, and when she didn’t flare up, I decided it wasn’t a bad word.

  Larch grumbled, “What kind of glue did you use to stick this hulk together?” But I don’t think Granddad heard him. Humans can do that—not hear things that would make them feel bad.

  Granddad said, “A stout ship. A valiant companion. She awaits only your blessing—”

  “And the money to move her,” Larch said.

  “Ah, yes. The money,” Granddad replied, as though that part of it now occurred to him for the first time.

  “No problem there,” Slezak cut in with the same good cheer. “We can jet off at your pleasure, Mr. Ravencraft.”

  “I’d say about two days to get clearance and pack in supplies.”

  “Would you allow me to take care of those matters, sir?” Slezak asked. “Mr. Larch and I would like to feel we are not mere excess baggage.”

  “I’d be honored,” Granddad boomed in his grandest voice. “At this moment, I am overwhelmed at our good fortune.”

  “Let’s get out of here,” Larch muttered, still looking at the bulkheads.

  “We’ll say good-bye for the moment, then, and come to you tomorrow afternoon with a progress report. I presume we agree that our pilot tape should be cut to Mars One?”

  “Entirely agreed.”

  Janet was still frowning at the two visitors. She’d stood a little back, out of their range of vision, and now she said, “Come on, Barney,” and I was behind her when she left the ship. We were by ourselves, the three men coming slowly as they talked, and Larry not even in sight. I knew he would stay in the ship as long as possible. He liked robots, but he liked spaceships too.

  “Barney,” Janet whispered. “I want you to watch Larch and Slezak until they leave the spaceport.”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “I don’t trust them. Stay as near to them as possible without their knowing it. Then come home and tell me where they go, what they do, and what they say. I’ll go back and tell Larry, so he won’t be wondering what happened to you.”

  Janet ran back into the ship, and I stood where I was while Larch and Slezak and Granddad said good-bye. I hoped Granddad wouldn’t stop me from carrying out Janet’s order. I watched him as he looked around vaguely and then started back into the ship after his grandchildren.

  Larch and Slezak moved off toward the passenger area and I followed them. They didn’t look around, but even if they had they wouldn’t necessarily have identified me. There were other 69S Wellingtons around, so all I had to do was stay far enough away so that they could not read my number.

  I tuned my diaphragms high and caught what they were saying. Slezak was mad at Larch.

  “You came close to getting clouted,” he said. “What were you trying to do—mess up the whole play?”

  “If you think I’m going to risk my neck in that—”

  “You’ll do exactly as I tell you.” Slezak was speaking in a low, savage voice now. “That ship is entirely spaceworthy. So it isn’t the Martian Queen or the Star of Venus. You’ll ride along and keep your mouth shut and smile on cue.”

  The very fact that Larch didn’t say anything proved who was boss.

  I followed them to the entrance of the Space Authority Building and then on inside, where I stood beside the door, as though waiting for my master, and watched them go into the chief dispatcher’s office. They could only have been there for one thing. To apply for the tape. They would make the application, and then the Authority would seal it into the Gallant Lady’s Baer pilot, and the destination would appear on the clearance manifest.

  When they came out, I was already turning to go out the door. Outside, I followed them to the big waiting room and watched while Slezak took a small package from a locker. Then I had to turn away and move quickly, because they came right toward me. I thought for a minute they had spotted me, but they walked right on past, and I followed again.

  After a few minutes I realized they were going back to the ship, but during the scare at the Authority Building I’d decided it wasn’t safe to stay quite so close, so I couldn’t hear what they said.

  I watched as Slezak went inside, while Larch waited for him, as though standing guard. But I couldn’t figure out what he would be guarding against, if anything. When Slezak came out, they walked straight to one of the exit ramps and caught a taxi.

  I went back to the theater.

  When I got there Janet had gotten supper, and it was over. Granddad sat in an easy chair reading a book and didn’t ask where I’d been. I had a feeling he didn’t even know I’d been away. He was very absentminded, but many actors are that way. A lot of other humans are that way too, for that matter.

  Neither Janet nor Larry said anything until Granddad finished what he was reading and went to bed. Then Janet snapped, “All right. What went on, Barney?”

  Larry looked up from the model spaceship he was working on and gave Janet a weary glance. It was easy to see what his attitude was.

  I said, “They went to the flight dispatcher’s office—”

  “—and applied for a tape to Mars One,” Larry cut in with a mocking, I-told-you-so tone.

  “How do you know?” Janet demanded.

  Larry shrugged. “What else could they have been doing? Robbing the dispatcher?”

  “I wouldn’t put it past them. What did you hear them say, Barney?”

  I played their conversation back for her, and Larry said, “Okay, now are you satisfied? Slezak was upset at his pal’s rudeness and told him off.”

  Janet looked frustrated.