Barrington Bayley - Barrington Bayley SF Gateway Omnibus - The Soul of the Robot, The Knights of the Limits, The Fall of Chronopolis

‘That would not end the provocations of the Hegemony. It would only give them more time to work their mischief. And besides, the Church has declared the enterprise a holy crusade. The Church being infallible, its edicts cannot be reversed.’

Aton became depressed as he realised the inevitability of what Haight said.

‘I shall report the full conversation to the emperor personally,’ Haight mused. ‘It will make little difference. Of greater interest is the news that the Hegemonics spring from our own dissidents. That, too, offers possibilities of eliminating the Hegemonics by tracking down these dissidents before they flee – though where time-travel’s concerned such a course of action is not guaranteed to be effective. In any case I doubt that it will be considered.’

‘Why not?’

‘The Church wants converted souls, not annihilated souls. The purpose of the armada is to save men, not to destroy them.’

Aton brought himself to attention, aware of the import of what he was about to say.

‘I agree with the Hegemonics, sir. The only important thing is that the war should be brought to a stop. We are headed on a course of mutual disaster.’

Haight, in the act of filling his glass again, glanced up sharply. ‘You are way out of line, Captain. You have forgotten your role. You have performed your duty .’

As he performed the trigger phrase lifting the hypnotic block on the implanted death urge, Aton went dizzy. Something inside his mind struggled madly for expression. But he clamped down on it. There was a mental convulsion, a struggle. Then calm.

‘What happened?’ asked Haight softly.

Aton had closed his eyes. He opened them. ‘You were supposed to keep me alive for not more than an hour. I’ve been here for more than three days. The death command has lost its force.’

‘A hypnotic command should be permanent.’

‘The hypnotic component is not a command, only a suggestion. It depends for its force on immersion in the strat. That experience is three days old.’

Haight nodded. ‘I thought this might happen.’ He toyed with his tumbler, his expression becoming curious. ‘You know, men have been pulled out of the strat after falling into it, and they don’t recover. Though there have been some cases I couldn’t speak for, taken into the care of the Church to spend the rest of their days in monasteries. Poor devils.’

‘This is the second time I’ve been in the strat. I saw it for the first time when the Smasher of Enemies went down.’

‘You think that might have acclimatised you, eh?’

‘Possibly, sir.’ Haight’s obsession with the strat, Aton saw, was a growing one. For his part, he was eager to return to the former subject of conversation.

‘Sir, we must try to make the emperor understand the seriousness of the situation. The war must be brought to a stop .’

‘ We must? Did you not just now hear me pronounce sentence of death on you? Or are you trying to save your skin?’

‘I am not trying to save my skin. It is your doing that the normal procedure has… misfired. But I am still willing to submit to execution, if you will grant me one last wish.’ Aton spoke evenly, with increasing urgency.

‘And what is that?’

‘Let me be present at the interview with the emperor. Let me put the Hegemonics’ case as they would wish it to be put. Frankly I do not think that you will do so.’

‘You accuse me of misrepresentation?’

‘Sir, I believe the empire is in danger, deadly danger. You understand the havoc that can be wreaked by the time-distorter – and we have not even seen it used at full power yet! – but your instinct is that of a warrior: to fight, to defeat the enemy. Yet to take a detached view, the Hegemonic cause has some slight justice in it. The issues at stake are not worth the strain we will be putting on the structure of time.’

Haight took a step towards Aton, dangerous emotions chasing themselves across his face. ‘You want to sell out to the enemy!’

‘We must reach an accommodation with the Hegemonics! Or else the empire itself may be destroyed!’

The commander stared at him incredulously. ‘Hah! So you really think the empire can be brought down! Why, the empire’s resources are inexhaustible! Other powers in time have at the best but one node to draw on. The empire has seven! That means seven times the industrial might, and seven times the manpower, of any enemy we might face. And our strength will grow.’ He shook his head. ‘No, the empire cannot be defeated.’

‘You speak of orthogonal time. I have seen the strat. You have not. All we have can be wiped away in the blink of an eye.’

‘You add heresy to your crimes,’ Haight said with increasing virulence.

‘Is that your only response – to take refuge in doctrine?’ Aton replied, in a voice thick with disappointment. ‘It is clear that with you for a messenger the emperor can gain no clear idea of what the Hegemonics intend.’

Haight sneered, looking him up and down. ‘Who are you to lecture me?’ he retorted. ‘Your offers and arguments are all tricks to help yourself! Let me tell you something – something of service! True, even emperors can make foolish mistakes. What is Philipium but a foolish old man? But that is not important. Something more surrounds the Ixians and welds the empire together. That something is service – the ideal of service to the empire! Men give their lives to this ideal, it is the empire’s main strength. And what of you? What do you understand of this strength?’ Haight’s voice rose to a roar. ‘You are a traitor, a criminal, a coward! But now you face me , a loyal servant of the empire!’

Aton stood pale-faced but erect while the commander raged. ‘I had been undecided as to what to do with you,’ Haight said more quietly, ‘but now I think I will kill you anyway.’

Aton skipped back. His hand darted into his tunic and came out with a small hand beamer he had found in Haight’s stateroom.

‘I am set upon a course, Commander. I will not give up, at least until I have spoken with Colonel Anamander. Perhaps he agrees with me.’

‘And perhaps he does not. It makes no difference, but in fact he does not.’ Haight stared contemptuously at the beamer.

Aton was pointing the gun uncertainly at Haight. ‘Keep your hands where I can see them, sir.’

‘I need no gun. I have a weapon pointed directly at your heart: your own vagus nerve.’

Aton’s eyes opened wide.

‘Your information is probably incomplete,’ Haight continued. ‘You have conquered the compulsion to pronounce the trigger-word, evidently. But it is not necessary that you should pronounce it. It is only necessary that your nervous system should hear it. And I, as the receiving officer, know what the word is.’

Although his finger tightened on the stud of the beamer, Aton found that he could not, after all, fire on his commanding officer. He staggered back yet another step.

‘ Vom .’ The word dropped from Haight’s lips like a dose of poison.

And Aton’s nervous system reacted instantly. Brain cell after brain cell fired in response to the signal, spreading the message in a web of pending death. Aton sought to clamp down on the impulse, to dampen it before it could reach the vagus nerve, sometimes called the suicide nerve because of its ability to initiate cardiac arrest on instructions from the brain.

His heart gave a convulsive leap and missed several beats. Aton staggered, the gun slipping from his fingers. He was vaguely aware of Haight looking on, half in satisfaction, half repelled.

Then the scene before him vanished, for a split second – a split second that was an eternity long. And so, for that same split second, did orthogonal time.