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

‘You live now under the aegis of the New Empire?’ Jasperodus asked.

‘Many of us do; here its power is nominal only. But the Emperor Charrane has decreed that kurons are to live without molestation in the empire, and that is our main hope for the future. His laws are not always obeyed, but it is better than elsewhere, such as in the states dominated by Borgor where we are still openly persecuted.’

Inwing put in a word. ‘You come from another star, don’t you? If things were so bad why didn’t you fly off back to where you came from?’

The kuron turned to peer at him. ‘It was too late. We, too, shared the social decline, losing our knowledge and skills. We no longer had the ability to build star arks.’

‘How distant is your home star?’ Jasperodus asked. ‘How long did it take to get here?’

‘Earth is our home now; we are natural migrants in the true sense of the word. Our star of origin lies a hundred and thirty-five light-years away, and the journey takes a hundred and fifty-two years by star ark.’

Jasperodus gestured to the glass jar lying on the ground. ‘Presumably you saw our plane flying over and noted our landing place. What prompted you to visit us?’

‘We come to trade.’

The robot grunted. ‘Then you come in vain. We have no goods to offer. We have scarcely anything for ourselves.’

‘Untrue. You have the aircraft. We wish to bargain for that.’

Inwing shook his head. ‘We need it to travel to Tansiann.’

‘Sample our wares before you decide. One can travel without wings, even if more slowly.’ The kuron lifted the jar, which was dome-shaped. It contained dark red soil in which grew about a dozen small flowers, blurrily visible through the thick glass. ‘Here is something you cannot find even in Tansiann.’

He opened a lid at the top of the jar and reached down with a long, slender hand to pluck one of the flowers, which he brought forth. It was a simple enough flower, like an extra-large, lavender-coloured buttercup. ‘These flowers are grown in the soil of Kuronid, our aboriginal world, brought here in the original star ark and preserved for centuries since. They can be grown in no other soil. I will allow you to smell this first bloom free of charge; if you wish to keep it, and the others in this jar, you must give us your aircraft.’

‘A jar of flowers for an airplane!’ Inwing exclaimed with a laugh.

‘Not the jar, for we cannot part with the soil,’ corrected the kuron. ‘I will pluck the flowers and give them to you under a glass seal, whereupon they will retain their perfume for one third of a year.’

‘Well,’ said Inwing in puzzlement, ‘what’s so special about it?’

‘It is a psychedelic flower. Its perfume contains chemical substances which transform the consciousness.’

‘Give it to me,’ Jasperodus commanded, holding out his hand. ‘The aircraft is mine to dispose of, not his.’

The kuron continued speaking to Inwing. ‘It will have no effect on your robot, of course. Inhale the scent deeply, now, and you will see that our offer is more than fair.’

Nevertheless Jasperodus insisted on sampling the flower. He applied it to his nostrils, drawing a small draught of air into his olfactory cavity: the perfume was light and delicate, but characteristically unique. Otherwise he found little to distinguish it from an ordinary Earth flower.

Cree Inwing still did not understand what the kuron was offering him when his turn came. But within half a minute of his sniffing the flower a look of complete amazement came over his face. He sprang to his feet and looked about him as if seeing everything for the first time; then he broke into peals of laughter which subsided into a fit of uncontrollable giggling.

All watched in silence. Eventually Inwing sat down again and stared with absolute fixity at a spray of leaves over his head, for minute after minute. Even when he spoke to Jasperodus he did not take his eyes off that spray of leaves; it seemed to hold endless fascination for him. ‘It’s amazing…’ He began to ramble in an excited voice. ‘I never understood it all till now. It’s all different, it’s all completely different . I’m not me, that’s not that – we’re all the same as one another… There’s no end to variation, but it’s all one…’

He seemed to be trying to explain the unexplainable, but Jasperodus merely grunted sulkily. His old sullenness had come over him; the flower obviously worked on men – and presumably on kurons – but not on him, and he took this as yet further evidence of his lack of consciousness.

There was presumably nothing within him for the perfume to alter: his resentment was by now automatic.

‘And what of our bargain?’ the kuron asked softly. ‘Are you agreed?’

‘Eh?’ Inwing took his eyes off the leaves and stared with equal intensity at the kuron’s face. ‘Oh, yes. Give me the flowers; you can have the plane.’

‘No!’ Jasperodus came to his feet, his voice harsh. ‘There will be no bargain!’

Laughing like a child, Inwing rose to face Jasperodus. ‘But it’s all right, Jasperodus. Really it is! We can walk to Tansiann. Who wants a plane? Perhaps we’ll fly without a plane! Anything’s possible! This is worth more than any airplane, believe me!’ He froze, suddenly trapped by the burnished reflection of flames on Jasperodus’ chest.

Jasperodus rounded on the kurons. ‘Conceivably your reputation for witchcraft is not without foundation. You have given this man a poison and deranged his judgement!’

The kuron spokesman shook his head. ‘Not so. His consciousness is altered, that is all. Consciousness is chemically based; but normally it is restricted by automatic conditioning so as to encompass only a very small range of impressions. The action of the flower is to free it temporarily from these restrictions. For the first time he is seeing the world as it exists in objective reality, and it astonishes him. Naturally he now has a different idea of what is most worth having.’

Inwing nodded his head in vigorous agreement. ‘That’s right, Jasperodus, this is reality! For the first time in my life!’

‘And the last!’ Jasperodus snatched the flower from him and flung it into the fire. ‘Away with you this instant or I will kill you all!’ he growled at the kurons. ‘Luckily I am immune to your tricks and know how to protect our property!’

Calmly and with no sign of alarm or disappointment, the kurons took up their glass jar and walked quietly from the clearing. Jasperodus silenced Cree’s jovial protestations with the threat of his upraised fist.

‘Your foolishness has cost you a night’s good rest on the ground,’ he chided. And as soon as the kurons were gone from earshot he bundled Inwing into the plane and manhandled it single-handed on to the meadow.

It was risky to take off in darkness on wild turf, for the plane’s headlight offered little illumination, but they became airborne without mishap. Consulting the stars, he set a course and they droned on through the night.

For several hours he was forced to endure Cree’s witless expatiations. But eventually the effect of the flower’s perfume wore off and the ex-soldier fell into a deep sleep. And so they continued on for several days more. Deeper into the empire the land began to take on a more urbanised aspect, and remembering the kuron’s warning Jasperodus thought it prudent to descend, abandon the plane and continue on foot. Sometimes walking, sometimes by rail, meeting a number of adventures together, the pair arrived at last in Tansiann.

Tansiann!

Pausing on the eminence of a tall hill, one of ten guarding the Imperial City, Jasperodus looked down to where he hoped to prove his capacity to achieve all.