GAIA

1.

It took hours for the ship from the space station to reach the vicinity of the Far Star—very long hours for Trevize to endure.

Had the situation been normal, Trevize would have tried to signal and would have expected a response. If there had been no response, he would have taken evasive action.

Since he was unarmed and there had been no response, there was nothing to do but wait. The computer would not respond to any direction he could give it that involved anything outside the ship.

Internally, at least, everything worked well. The life-support systems were in perfect order, so that he and Pelorat were physically comfortable. Somehow, that didn’t help. Life dragged on and the uncertainty of what was to come was wearing him down. He noticed with irritation that Pelorat seemed calm. As though to make it worse, while Trevize felt no sense of hunger at all, Pelorat opened a small container of chicken-bits, which on opening had rapidly and automatically warmed itself. Now he was eating it methodically.

Trevize said irritably, “Space, Janov! That stinks!”

Pelorat looked startled and sniffed at the container. “It smells all right to me, Golan.”

Trevize shook his head. “Don’t mind me. I’m just upset. But do use a fork. Your fingers will smell of chicken all day.”

Pelorat looked at his fingers with surprise. “Sorry! I didn’t notice. I was thinking of something else.”

Trevize said sarcastically, “Would you care to guess at what type of nonhumans the creatures on the approaching ship must be?” He was ashamed that he was less calm than Pelorat was. He was a Navy veteran (though he had never seen battle, of course) and Pelorat was a historian. Yet his companion sat there quietly.

Pelorat said, “It would be impossible to imagine what direction evolution would take under conditions differing from those of Earth. The possibilities may not be infinite, but they would be so vast that they might as well be. However, I can predict that they are not senselessly violent and they will treat us in a civilized fashion. If that wasn’t true, we would be dead by now.”

“At least you can still reason, Janov, my friend—you can still be tranquil. My nerves seem to be forcing their way through whatever tranquilization they have put us under. I have an extraordinary desire to stand up and pace. Why doesn’t that blasted ship arrive?”

Pelorat said, “I am a man of passivity, Golan. I have spent my life doubled over records while waiting for other records to arrive. I do nothing but wait. You are a man of action and you are in deep pain when action is impossible.”

Trevize felt some of his tension leave. He muttered, “I underestimate your good sense, Janov.”

“No, you don’t,” said Pelorat placidly, “but even a naïve academic can sometimes make sense out of life.”

“And even the cleverest politician can sometimes fail to do so.”

“I didn’t say that, Golan.”

“No,