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  No historians had ever before had the chance to visit the era of human history they loved most. Only Chad Mora, the paleontologist who had accompanied Hunter’s team to the age of dinosaurs, had been able to experience the time he had studied. She wondered if Roland had sailed on any ships she would remember studying.

  “Roland-” She stopped suddenly, not sure what she wanted to ask. Questioning a buccaneer about his adventures might be extremely unwise, and even dangerous, no matter how charming he appeared.

  “Yes, Rita?”

  “Uh-well, I’m curious about your adventures. But I don’t want to pry into your affairs.”

  “Ah! Curious about the buccaneering life, eh?” Roland grinned again. “Well, no need to be shy, sweet lady; you wouldn’t be the first.”

  “Well…I didn’t think so.” She laughed, embarrassed. Since she couldn’t tell him why she was curious about him, she wasn’t sure what to say.

  “So tell me, Rita,” Roland said lightly, with a wary glance at Hunter in front of them. “Would you like to get better acquainted, then? And learn the buccaneer life? See Port Royal as I know it?”

  Rita knew in an instant that this was what she really wanted. She also realized that Hunter would object since he was so concerned about the First Law and the danger that she might change human history if she wasn’t careful. However, she simply did not share his belief that rather ordinary actions in this era of Jamaican history would ultimately matter. She reminded herself again that Port Royal would be drowned in an earthquake in just over twenty years.

  She gave Roland a quick nod.

  Roland waited until Steve said something to Hunter, distracting him. Rita knew, of course, that, as a robot, Hunter had multiple sensors and the ability to monitor them all with his full attention if he wished. However, he had no reason to keep track of Rita at every moment and his attention was on Steve’s comment.

  Suddenly Roland grabbed her wrist and slipped sideways into the crowd, pulling her after him. She saw that he was careful not to move too fast, or jostle anyone unnecessarily; that might attract Hunter’s attention. Instead, he moved carefully and patiently, allowing them to blend into the crowd without disruption as they worked their way toward a small side street.

  Rita looked back over her shoulder at Hunter, who was by then some distance away. He was still walking in the same direction as before, unaware that she was no longer right behind him. Then Roland pulled harder on her wrist and she hurried after him around a corner and out of Hunter’s sight.

  “Run, Rita,” Roland called cheerily. He began to jog, still pulling her after him.

  With her free hand, she reached up to switch off the communicator pinned to her collar. If Hunter called her, it would make some sort of sound, and might attract Roland’s attention. She didn’t want to wind up drowned, hanged, or burned as a witch if a buccaneer heard voices apparently coming from nowhere.

  “Hunter,” said Steve. “This is fun, but maybe we should find a place to spend the night. Like you said, if MC 2 is still microscopic, we can’t possibly find him yet.”

  “A good point,” said Hunter, looking toward the wooden buildings lining the waterfront. “I see a number of signs for inns. Shall we try that one?” He pointed.

  Steve laughed, and caught Jane’s eye. Shaking her head, she took Hunter’s arm.

  “Is this funny?” Hunter asked.

  “We don’t want to stay in a waterfront inn,” said Jane.

  “Too rough, Hunter,” said Steve.

  “The accommodations must still be better than those in our previous trip.”

  “It’s not the building, Hunter,” said Steve, glancing at Jane again with a suppressed smile. “It’s the company. We need to find a place with a nicer clientele.”

  “I understand now,” said Hunter. “So we should leave the waterfront and look around.” He stopped and turned. “Rita, which way should we go?”

  “Yeah,” Steve said, also turning. “There must be a better part of town…” He trailed off, looking around.

  “Rita?” Jane called.

  “Just lost in the crowd for a minute, I guess,” said Steve, peering at the faces of all the people who were walking past them. “Rita!”

  “No,” said Hunter. He was holding his head high, standing motionless. “I do not see her anywhere nearby. I have raised the sensitivity of my hearing, as well, and I do not hear her voice or Roland’s, either.”

  “You think he snatched her?” Steve asked, still looking around in the crowd. “I should have been watching them, but this never occurred to me.”

  “It was my failure, not yours,” said Hunter. “I failed my First Law obligation again. However, I doubt that she went under duress. I would have noticed even the slightest scuffling or call for help originating right behind us.”

  “He was a charmer, all right,” said Jane. “And Rita seemed to like him right away.”

  “We will have to pick up their trail,” said Hunter. “Come on.” He started back the way they had come, his eyes scanning the crowd.

  “No point yelling for them,” said Steve. “If she sneaked away deliberately, they’ll both run harder if they know we’re looking for them.”

  “Maybe they aren’t really running,” said Jane. “Maybe Roland just stopped to introduce her to a friend. Or maybe she saw a booth where she wanted to look at something.”

  “Maybe,” Steve said reluctantly. “But she’s a historian, not a tourist.”

  “That’s true,” said Jane.

  Hunter said nothing.

  6

  Steve had never before seen Hunter act with the precise mix of deliberation, sternness, and yet uncertainty that he exhibited after Rita’s disappearance. Worried, Steve leaned close to Jane. “Is Hunter okay? He’s talking in a monotone and walking like it’s a military march. Is he having another First Law attack or something?”

  “He’s okay so far.” said Jane. “But his First Law interpretation places Rita’s welfare above that of the local population. He’s vary anxious to find her.”

  “Yeah.” Steve straightened again. “Not to mention his fear that she’ll change history.”

  “Excuse me,” Hunter said politely, to a couple of young buccaneers walking nearby. “Do you know a Roland Burke? I am searching for him.”

  “So?” They both laughed and moved on without breaking stride.

  “Does anyone here know a Roland Burke? Has anyone seen him just now?” Hunter shouted, and his booming voice attracted considerable attention.

  No one responded, however. They looked at him warily and just kept walking.

  “Let’s go over there,” said Steve suddenly. He pointed to a small knot of people. In the center, a skinny, gray-bearded man dressed only in ragged knee breeches was juggling four belaying pins. Steve led the way this time.

  When the juggler had completed his performance, a few onlookers tossed coins into a scarf folded carefully at his feet. Steve stepped up quickly. Hunter and Jane stayed where they were.

  “Hold it, friends,” Steve called. “We’re looking for a friend named Roland Burke, or any other friend of his. Does anyone here know him?”

  Most of the audience just walked away, but a couple of young men remained.

  “I’d say every third man on the waterfront knows Roland,” said one of them, a tall, burly man with curly hair. “What’s it to you?”

  “We lost him in the crowd tonight,” said Steve. “Just a moment ago. Where can we find him?”

  “If he’s a friend of yours, why don’t you know that already?” The buccaneer who had spoken stepped in front of Steve and glared down at him.

  “Easy, friend,” said Hunter.

  “Hunter-” Steve felt the big robot gently take his arm and pull him back. As Steve regained his balance, Hunter moved in front of him.

  “I ain’t afraid of you, either,” said the curly-haired buccaneer. He was nearly a head shorter than Hunter, but hadn’t given any ground.

  Steve kne
w Hunter didn’t want to hurt anyone, so he glanced around for a distraction. A small circle of onlookers had formed around them. He spied the juggler watching them, still holding his belaying pins.

  “How much do you want for one of those?” Steve asked, nodding at the belaying pins.

  The juggler grinned, showing gaps in his teeth. “Nothin’. I stole ‘em off my last ship.” He tossed one to Steve, obviously expecting him to use it on someone as a club.

  Steve caught it. The belaying pin was made of hardwood and was both heavy and sturdy. It had a thick, oblong head and a narrower pin, long enough to hold as a handle. On shipboard, a sailor would slip the looped end of a rope through the pin, then push the pin into one of the many holes drilled in the ship for that purpose. That end of the rope would be held firm. The shape made the pin perfect as a club too.

  The curly-haired buccaneer watched Steve with caution but no fear. “You boys want a fight, you got it.”

  “Not me,” said Steve. “I just want to demonstrate something on my friend here.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “Hold still, Hunter,” said Steve.

  “Okay,” said Hunter.

  Steve held the belaying pin as a club and reared back. He swung it up and then down on Hunter’s head as hard as he could. The force of the blow shattered the hardwood and tore the remains from Steve’s hand. He gripped his sore hand with the other one, wincing.

  Hunter smiled politely at the buccaneers, who stared at him in amazement.

  “My friend has a hard head,” said Steve.

  Still not taking his eyes off Hunter, the curly-haired buccaneer reached down and picked up a chunk of the broken wood. “That’s the real thing, ain’t it?”

  “Quite heavy,” Hunter assured him.

  “Would you like to take a turn?” Steve asked him amiably. “Our juggler friend has several more.”

  The curly-haired pirate turned away and pushed through the crowd, followed by his companion.

  “Thank you,” said Hunter. “You saved me the danger of a First Law violation.”

  “Glad to help,” said Steve, grinning.

  “I never saw nothin’ like it,” said the juggler. “You must have the hardest head on the seven seas.”

  “You know Roland Burke?” Jane asked.

  “Aye, I’ve met him. But he ain’t passed me tonight.” The juggler shrugged apologetically.

  “Do you know where he lives?” Steve asked.

  “Nay. I don’t know him that well. Just to have a mug 0’ grog now and then.”

  “Thank you,” Hunter said politely.

  “Any time,” said the juggler, still eyeing Hunter’s head for evidence of a wound.

  Steve grinned at Jane as they walked on. Hunter continued to lead the way, using his enhanced vision and hearing in the hope of detecting signs of Roland or Rita that his human companions could not possibly notice. They followed him patiently, looking at the sights and pointing out different items of interest to each other from time to time.

  They looked long into the night. Slowly, the crowd on the waterfront thinned out. The only sounds that remained were those of the breaking surf and the drunken singing from some of the taverns. Hunter ventured down some of the side streets, always alert for danger. Jane and Steve stayed close to him, but no one approached them.

  “Hunter,” Jane said finally. “I know you can search all night, but I’m not sure it’s worth the effort. We need some rest. Rita is probably just exploring with Roland.”

  Hunter looked at them both. “I know you need to sleep. I shall also stay with you two, to make sure you are safe. Where should we go?”

  “The town has quieted down now,” said Steve. “With you to protect us, I think we can get a room in an inn just off the waterfront without a problem.”

  They had to walk for a while longer, but finally Steve and Jane agreed that a place called the Dover Arms catered to a clientele of higher social class than the waterfront inns. Hunter paid for a sizable room. Inside, he hooked the wooden shutter closed over the window and barred the door. Then, as the two humans went to sleep in their beds, he sat down on a chair in the middle of the room, alert for any sounds of potential danger in this unfamiliar environment.

  At that moment, Rita sat with Roland at a table in a small tavern. No other customers remained. Her escort had given her a quick tour of the crowded waterfront and then tried his best to push several kinds of rum on her, without much success. The tavernkeeper was wiping off the other tables with a dirty cloth. Roland studied Rita’s face.

  “I still say, sweet lady, something is different about you that I don’t understand,” said Roland.

  “Can you name what’s so different?” She smiled at him, still ignoring the tankard of rum he had bought for her some time earlier.

  “No,” Roland said, shaking his head slowly. “I cannot. Something I just can’t name.”

  Rita hoped she hadn’t made a mistake. She was tired, but still didn’t want to rejoin Hunter yet. This was her chance to find out what living in Port Royal was really like. She idly fingered the handle of the knife in her sash.

  “I want a room to myself,” she said, looking him in the eye. ‘With a bar on the door. I can pay for it if you will find it for me.”

  Roland smiled wryly. “I can do that for you. Now tell me why I should.”

  Rita could feel the sweat on her palms. If she couldn’t keep Roland in a friendly mood, she could be in real trouble. Of course, she could still try to radio Hunter, but he might be some distance away.

  “You will help me,” she said carefully, “because you still want to figure out somehow why I’m different.”

  “Aye.” Roland grinned suddenly. “Aye, you have me there. But you’ll be my guest for breakfast in return.”

  “Fair enough.” Rita gave him a confident smile, but inwardly she was very relieved. Maybe she really could handle this buccaneer.

  Roland accepted a couple of coins from her and spoke to the tavernkeeper. They both escorted her upstairs, where she found a room a little larger than a closet and a plain, wooden bed with a thin mattress. The tavernkeeper lit a short stub of candle that stood on the window sill.

  “It will do?” Roland asked her.

  She glanced behind the door and saw the bracket and wooden bar that would lock it securely. “Yes, it will do. Thank you.”

  After they had left, she closed the door and slid the bar into place. Then she let out a long breath and smiled to herself. She was all right so far. Weary after the excitement and tension of dealing with Roland, she lay down on the bed and quickly fell asleep.

  Early the next morning, Jane sat at an outdoor booth with Hunter and Steve. The morning was still cool, with the tropical ocean breeze blowing gently through the streets. She and Steve were eating some sort of meat pastry that Hunter had bought. Hunter, of course, was recharging his energy storage by letting the bright sun beat down on the solar power collectors hidden in the surface of his body.

  “Well.” Steve swallowed a big mouthful of his breakfast and turned to Hunter. “So, how do you want us to look for Rita today, Hunter?”

  “I am undecided,” said Hunter.

  Jane waited, expecting him to go on. He didn’t.

  Jane and Steve glanced at each other in surprise. Hunter was rarely undecided about something so simple and when he was, he usually wanted to discuss options. Worried, she lowered her pastry. Hunter was facing away from them, presumably searching for some sight or sound of Rita or Roland.

  “Hunter,” Jane said quietly. “Tell me under the Second Law. You’re having a First Law problem over Rita’s disappearance, aren’t you?”

  “Affirmative,” said Hunter.

  “I instruct you to discuss it with us. Why is this worse now than it was late last night?”

  “You know my inattention has allowed Rita to leave the safety of my protection. By now, she may have come to harm. As you slept, I reviewed my data about Port Royal and the bu
ccaneer society. The chance of her having come to harm last night is very high.”

  “I understand,” said Jane. “Now listen carefully to your roboticist.”

  “Yes?”

  “You are still dealing only in probabilities. Rita may still be perfectly well, but in potential danger. She, and we, need you at peak efficiency.”

  “I am clearly not at peak efficiency. If I had been last night, I would have not have lost her.”

  “I dispute that judgment. None of us had any reason to think she would slip away from us of her own accord.”

  “You humans are not obligated by the First Law to look after her.”

  “Your misjudgment of her behavior is not in and of itself a First Law Failure.”

  “It led to one. After all, the First Law says in part that a robot may not allow a human to come to harm through inaction. It makes no exception for errors of judgment.”

  “Nor does it blame you for what may be happening. Until and unless you know that Rita has been harmed, you don’t know that you have broken the First Law.”

  “Come on, Hunter,” Steve interrupted with forced cheer. “Enough talk. Let’s find Rita.”

  “All right.” Hunter still sounded uncertain, but he led them away from the booth. “We shall walk around some more. I have continued sending out a radio signal to her communicator, but she has not responded.”

  Jane caught Steve’s eye and smiled. Sometimes his pragmatic suggestions were worth more to Hunter than all of her theoretical arguments combined. Steve fell into step with her behind Hunter.

  They found the waterfront changed. Instead of the wild, carousing buccaneers, Jane saw the ordinary people who kept the town functioning. Small fishing boats swayed on the waves out at sea; shopkeepers were just hanging out their wares. In fact, a few of the earliest fishing boats were already returning to the docks with their morning catch.

  “Great climate, huh?” Steve spread his arms expansively. “Light breeze, blue water, tropical flowers everywhere. I never see anything like this in the Mojave Desert.”