Utopia - By Isaac Asimov,Roger E. Allen Page 0,59

me. No lights, almost no sound. I thought you were...were someone else."

"Who?" Caliban demanded.

"I don't know," Fiyle said, sagging back a bit, relaxing in Caliban's grasp. "You could have been anyone. All hell is breaking loose up there, and I think it's possible that I've made myself just a little bit too popular. " Fiyle hesitated for a moment, and then spoke again. "Look, you've got my blaster, and that's the only weapon I had. You can search me for other weapons if you like, but would you mind turning me loose and letting me switch on a light? I've driven myself half crazy sitting here in the dark."

"It is all right, friend Caliban," said Prospero. "Let him go."

Caliban hesitated, having not felt the urge to trust Fiyle overmuch even before he had shot at them. Nor was he completely confident in Prospero's judgment. But he was either in this, or not. There was no middle ground. And he was already rather deep in to begin with. He looked down at the man he held. Even in visible light, Caliban knew he was no great judge of human expression. In infrared, he was far from skilled. But the man staring blindly into the darkness of his visible-light vision certainly seemed harmless enough. Caliban released his grasp on Fiyle, albeit reluctantly.

"The light," said Fiyle, peering about in the darkness, and reaching out blindly with his hands.

Prospero knelt down, picked up the man's handlight, and handed it to Caliban. Caliban realized that Prospero could have handed the light to Fiyle just as easily. Prospero was letting Caliban decide, letting him choose what to do with this man.

Caliban placed the light in Fiyle's outstretched hand, but kept the blaster for himself.

Fiyle grabbed at the light, fumbled for it eagerly, and let out a deep, heartfelt sigh of relief when he found the switch and the beam of light came on. "Oh, I'm glad to see that," he said, as he squinted a bit in the light. "Very glad indeed."

"But if you are being followed, those who pursue you would be even more glad to see it," said Caliban.

Fiyle nodded worriedly. "You're right," he said. "Let's get out of the corridor and into the side office, where we can talk."

Fiyle swung the beam of the handlight around until he found a doorway in the side of the tunnel. "Come on," he said, and led the way. Caliban and Prospero followed behind him. Fiyle swung the door shut behind them, and locked the door. "That makes us light-tight and pretty close to soundproof," he said as he switched on the overhead lights. "We should be reasonably safe in here. " He looked around the office, and found an overturned chair in the corner. He righted the chair, knocked the worst of the dust off it, and sat down with a sigh of relief. "I'm just about worn out," he said. He looked up at the two robots standing over him, and shook his head as he gave a slightly self-deprecating laugh. "You'd think I was doing this for my health," he said. "You get a lot of exercise when half the planet is chasing you."

"Who, precisely, is chasing you?" Caliban asked.

"I've got the CIP on my tail for sure, and I think I spotted the SSS. No sign of Gildern's Ironhead plug-uglies yet, but give them time. So far I've stayed ahead of them."

"If you are seeking congratulations for all your feats of derring-do, you will have to look elsewhere," said Caliban. "You do what you do not for your health, but for profit."

"Not the most noble of motives, I grant you-but it's one that might get me killed if I'm not careful. That might be of some comfort to you."

"Not if you manage to get us killed along with you."

Fiyle sighed wearily. "I don't blame you for being suspicious, but I haven't betrayed anyone. Not yet. You, the Settlers, the Ironheads-all of you came to me because you knew I still had active contacts in all the other groups. How was I supposed to keep up those contacts without giving them a little something now and then? The Settlers and the Ironheads understood that-even Prospero here understood."

Caliban did not answer. There were times humans would say more in reply to silence than they would to words.

This seemed to be one of those times. "Look," said Fiyle. "One, I don't have to justify myself to you. Two, I'm not making any charge at all for