ROBOTS

41.

Trevize seemed lost in thought during dinner, and Bliss concentrated on the food.

Pelorat, the only one who seemed anxious to speak, pointed out that if the world they were on was Aurora and if it was the first settled world, it ought to be fairly close to Earth.

“It might pay to scour the immediate stellar neighborhood,” he said. “It would only mean sifting through a few hundred stars at most.”

Trevize muttered that hit-and-miss was a last resort and he wanted as much information about Earth as possible before attempting to approach it even if he found it. He said no more and Pelorat, clearly squelched, dwindled into silence as well.

After the meal, as Trevize continued to volunteer nothing, Pelorat said tentatively, “Are we to be staying here, Golan?”

“Overnight, anyway,” said Trevize. “I need to do a bit more thinking.”

“Is it safe?”

“Unless there’s something worse than dogs about,” said Trevize, “we’re quite safe here in the ship.”

Pelorat said, “How long would it take to lift off, if there is something worse than dogs about?”

Trevize said, “The computer is on launch alert. I think we can manage to take off in between two and three minutes. And it will warn us quite effectively if anything unexpected takes place, so I suggest we all get some sleep. Tomorrow morning, I’ll come to a decision as to the next move.”

Easy to say, thought Trevize, as he found himself staring at the darkness. He was curled up, partly dressed, on the floor of the computer room. It was quite uncomfortable, but he was sure that his bed would be no more conducive to sleep at this time and here at least he could take action at once if the computer sounded an alarm.

Then he heard footsteps and automatically sat up, hitting his head against the edge of the desk—not hard enough to do damage, but hard enough to make rubbing and grimacing a necessity.

“Janov?” he said in a muffled voice, eyes tearing.

“No. It’s Bliss.”

Trevize reached over the edge of the table with one hand to make at least semicontact with the computer, and a soft light showed Bliss in a light pink wraparound.

Trevize said, “What is it?”

“I looked in your bedroom and you weren’t there. There was no mistaking your neuronic activity, however, and I followed it. You were clearly awake so I walked in.”

“Yes, but what is it you want?”

She sat down against the wall, knees up, and cradled her chin against them. She said, “Don’t be concerned. I have no designs on what’s left of your virginity.”

“I don’t imagine you do,” said Trevize sardonically. “Why aren’t you asleep? You need it more than we do.”

“Believe me,” she said in a low, heartfelt tone, “that episode with the dogs was very draining.”

“I believe that.”

“But I had to talk to you when Pel was sleeping.”

“About what?”

Bliss said, “When he