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

Within, the tavern had a rough-hewn air, which was the reason why Cree had chosen it. After a brief word with the landlord he obtained permission for Jasperodus to sit with him, and purchased a mug of sour red wine, which he swallowed with evident satisfaction and then bought another. Much cheered by the beverage, he began a perusal of the journal.

Jasperodus meanwhile sat in silence. Their wanderings together had frequently been interspersed with Cree’s practice of reviving himself with alcohol, and such halts in their progress were now familiar to the robot. Though secretly a trifle sullen that he too could not partake of the experience, he had grown patient with the habit, looking upon it as part of their working arrangement.

The truth was that their partnership had been of such benefit to them both as to warrant a degree of mutual tolerance. As a footloose construct Jasperodus would have faced many difficulties in journeying across the continent. The solution was simple: Cree represented him as his property.

Jasperodus himself had proposed this arrangement. Cree at first had shown some diffidence about casting into the role of a slave, even if only for the sake of appearances, someone who recently had been his own king and master. Jasperodus had quickly put him right on that score: he felt no loss of dignity.

On his side the robot’s physical strength and mental acuity had stood them both in good stead on numerous occasions. In addition Jasperodus had now and then allowed Cree to hire him out, helping perhaps to erect a barn, to build a bridge, or to audit the accounts of a tradesman, in return for enough money to provide food, drink, lodging or rail fares.

While Cree was engrossed in the journal he was studying, Jasperodus casually inspected it over his shoulder. It was a news journal, containing reports of happenings in Tansiann and in other parts of the world. That in itself was cosmopolitan enough a touch to excite interest: such a thing as a news service was practically unknown elsewhere. As it was, the journal – boasting the emblazoned title ‘New Empire’ at the head of its first sheet – had the rough-finished appearance of a recent innovation. It was printed on crude, cheap paper manufactured from wood pulp and had been turned out, Jasperodus could discern, on a rotary printing press using relief type. Not as rapid or as accurate as some photochemical processes Jasperodus knew of, but no doubt efficient enough for present requirements.

By looking askance he found he was able to read the reports without disturbing Cree. The lead story was splashed right across the front page in headlines two inches tall.

CHARRANE CONQUERS MARS!

News reached Tansiann yesterday that the Mars Expeditionary Force has added interplanetary territories to the New Empire. Landing on the Red Planet a month ago, the Emperor’s crack space commandos have since been fighting a successful campaign to bring this strategically important world under the imperial writ.

It is now little over a year since explorers first discovered that human communities still exist on Mars despite having been cut off for eight centuries from the mother planet, basing their way of life on the deep fissures and rills in the Martian surface where they have learned how to maintain a breathable atmosphere. On hearing of the Red Planet’s continued habitation the Emperor Charrane had immediately pronounced it a top priority to ‘recover the ancient Mars possessions’. The Emperor’s early triumph will go a long way towards substantiating his boast that the Empire will eventually ‘rival the glory of Tergov’.

Not all the news from space today is good. The Moon outposts have come under fresh attack by spaceships bearing the insignia of the Borgor Alliance and have sustained what is described as ‘significant damage’. It is to be expected that the Alliance will attempt to loosen our grip on the new Martian province by striking at supply carriers and even by aiding forces of insurgency still remaining within the native population. Altogether the holding of Mars will prove one of the toughest jobs our armed forces have ever had to face. Nevertheless all sources at court are jubilant today. The Emperor is to issue a proclamation ( turn to back page ).

Alongside the text was a blurred photogravure picture, admittedly stirring, of a row of spaceships – ostensibly part of the Expeditionary Force – lifting off en masse amid clouds of flame, dust, smoke and steam.

Cree Inwing’s eyes gleamed. ‘Hah! Great stuff! That’s action indeed!’ he muttered to himself.

He turned the pages, glancing over the lesser news and articles that filled the journal. Midway through was a half-page advertisement offering commissions in the Imperial armed forces.

HELP DEFEND THE EMPIRE

The New Empire is ranged about with enemies hostile to the advance of civilisation. Gentlemen of quality are needed to officer the strength necessary to our safety and growth. At present opportunities for promotion are considerable, as are the opportunities to see action under testing conditions. The newly gained Martian dominions offer a whole new world of soldiering for a man of resource. Preference will be given to men of previous military experience, but all men of good family or proven ability may be eligible to participate in the great adventure of building an empire. Provided all conditions are fulfilled a captaincy may be purchased for nine thousand imperials, a lieutenancy for seven thousand imperials.

Cree fell to fingering his moustache and became very thoughtful. Jasperodus said nothing. On a following page was a similar advertisement in rougher terms, inviting men to join the ranks for adventure, service to the Emperor and two imperials a day. Cree merely glanced at it with a grunt.

‘Fellow,’ he called to one clearing tankards from the tables. ‘Bring me another mug of this wine.’

A mood of some despondency seemed to have come over Cree. Many mugs of wine later he was fairly drunk and seemed disposed to sleep, laying his head on his arms. Jasperodus rose and approached the landlord.

‘You have accommodation in this place?’

The other nodded brusquely.

‘My master requires a room at least until tomorrow, in which I also will be domiciled.’

‘If you wish.’ The landlord produced a key and motioned towards some stairs. Jasperodus aroused Cree and they were conducted to an upper room, adequate but not too clean, containing a bed, a table, a cupboard and two chairs.

Cree flung himself on the bed and instantly was asleep. ‘The charge is half an imperial a night,’ the landlord told him, handing Jasperodus the key.

The robot placed the key on the table. ‘If my master wakes and should ask after me, be good enough to inform him that I will return later. I have certain enquiries to make.’

The landlord, who had been about to quit the room, looked at him with new interest. ‘Indeed? Is your owner accustomed to giving you such freedom of action?’

‘He is; I am entirely dependable. You need have no anxieties on my behalf.’

‘Hmmm.’ The landlord pursed his lips and left with a contemplative air.

The enquiries Jasperodus sought to make were in fact of a very general nature. He merely wished to continue his reconnoitre of the city.

After leaving the tavern he walked in the same direction as before, trying to recall the layout of the city as he had observed it from the hilltop. Soon he left the riverside area and had a choice of avenues before him. Some instinct advised him to keep to the poorer districts to begin with; and so he found himself heading deep into Tansiann’s worst slums.

Seven-storey tenements reared on all sides, decrepit and dirty, some derelict, interspersed with waste grounds and piles of junk. Dust was a fact of life, drifting down from the crumbling buildings, hazing the air, blowing across the open spaces. And the inhabitants seemed to swarm everywhere; this was, probably, the most teeming part of Tansiann.