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

Marshal Davidon raised the usual objection to orbital fortresses: their vulnerability to missile attack. Jasperodus answered that to deal with this the shuttles would orbit at a distance of three thousand miles. It was unlikely that Borgor would have supplied the Martians with missiles large enough or accurate enough to reach that far, but if they had then the long range gave the shuttles adequate time to defend themselves.

Marshal Grixod, who had once been the fiercest opponent of withdrawal from Mars, had now come to stick doggedly to the opposite view earlier enunciated, in milder form, by Jasperodus: that the Empire should concentrate on conquering Earth and not expend itself in costly interplanetary adventures. ‘This is going to be very expensive in men and resources,’ he said. ‘Are we sure we can afford it?’

Jasperodus acknowledged the point with an inclining of his head. ‘One of the features of this plan that most recommended it to me is its relative cost-effectiveness,’ he told the Marshal. ‘It will work out much cheaper than the campaign of eight years ago. Initially the cost is high – building and outfitting the shuttles, equipping seventy thousand men, who for that time will be denied to the Imperial Forces here on Earth – but once that has been borne there will be very little further expenditure. The figure of seventy thousand is intentionally an excessive one, designed to overwhelm the Martian settlements quickly and with a minimum of bloodshed. Once the planet has been subdued something like half the force could be returned home, and thereafter the Martian province will pay for itself.’

The arguing continued. The marshals pored over his plan, finding fault after fault. Jasperodus doggedly dealt with each point on its merits. In more congenial circumstances they would have been delighted with the scheme – he was well aware of that – and it was only their resistance to his leadership that made them obstinate now. If his past experience of men was anything to go by, that resistance would in due course pass.

Finally he forced the issue. ‘Well, gentlemen, what is our verdict? The Emperor would know the opinion of the Council before making a decision himself. I might add that he strongly desires to see us established as an interplanetary power before he dies. The New Empire is considered to be the successor to the Rule of Tergov, perhaps even a continuation of it, and in that respect the annexation of Mars is seen as the recovery of ancient possessions rather than as a fresh conquest.’

There was silence. Eventually Marshal Grixod nodded his head grudgingly. ‘The plan is good. I have to admit it.’

One by one they all consented. The talk turned to other matters, chiefly the question of whether the Borgor Alliance would be in a position to pose new threats in the near future. Marshal-in-Chief Hazzany, who up to now had said little, spoke of the nuclear weapons that had existed in the time of the Old Empire. ‘If we had a few of those,’ he rumbled, ‘we could make short work of them in any conditions.’

The theme was an old one of Hazzany’s. Always he was yearning for the stupendous explosives produced by the expert nuclear science of a previous age but not understood by present-day engineers, who saw radioactivity only as a means for making power units. To Hazzany nuclear bombs, shells and grenades were a tactician’s dream. The possibility of actually manufacturing such weapons seemed remote and was not seriously considered. Old documents revealed that they depended on a certain isotope extracted from the metal uranium, either for the explosive itself or as a trigger for even more devastating nuclear processes. So voracious had the Rule of Tergov been in its use of this uranium that there were now no significant natural deposits left – and fortunately so, in Jasperodus’ eyes. He had no wish to see the Earth ravaged by these reputedly annihilatory devices, and he fervently hoped that no deposits of uranium would be found on Mars.

A short while later the meeting came to an end. Jasperodus took his leave and sauntered from the military wing of the palace, making for the inner sections. All military personnel saluted him smartly as he went by. Others, even civilians of high rank, eyed him with respect.

He made a striking figure in these luxurious surroundings, even more so now that he wore an item of apparel: a medium-length cloak which flowed down his back and set off the angular lines and bronze-black hue of his body. The cloak had arisen from the need to wear insignia in the absence of a uniform. It was divided down the centre by a purple line; on one side was the blazon of a vizier, on the other the badge of rank of a marshal of the Imperial Forces.

Crossing a terrace, Jasperodus entered the group of smaller buildings surrounding the basilica. There, in one of the several large lounges, he came upon the Emperor in conversation with Ax Oleander. Charrane looked up at the sound of Jasperodus’ arrival.

‘Ah, Jasperodus! The fellow I was waiting to see. Join us, and we will come to our business presently.’ He turned back to Oleander. ‘Pardon my interruption. Please continue.’

Oleander shot an unwelcome look at Jasperodus and shifted perceptibly closer to the Emperor. The man had never made any attempt to improve relations with Jasperodus. Jealous of his influence, he had continued to insinuate that the robot was secretly under orders from the Borgor Alliance – a suggestion which could hardly stand up against Jasperodus’ record. For his part Jasperodus had sought no retaliation for these provocations, though several times he had been amused and fascinated to see Oleander, in a room filled with people, adopt the classic stance of a monarch’s toady, whispering information into Charrane’s ear.

At the present moment the vizier was criticising the economic arrangements within the Empire.

‘In one vital respect we are particularly primitive in comparison with the old world, sire,’ he was saying. ‘I have been studying how Tergov achieved its prodigious level of production – I am referring, of course, to the “factory system”, as it was called. It seems to me that we must adopt this system ourselves. Our present arrangements are haphazard and old-fashioned.’

Charrane’s reply showed that he too had given this question some thought. He mused for a moment, then snorted softly. ‘Mass production! Have you studied also how Tergov came to fall? The reasons were complex, no doubt, but among them was that the level of production was so prodigious, in comparison with the amount of labour required for it, that the majority of the population found no place in the manufacturing process. An idle populace, Ax, is no substitute for a happy and industrious citizenry, no matter how much it may be pampered by the state. That is why I am no advocate of this “mass production”. I am content to see the main wealth of the Empire produced by individual artisans, assisted when they can afford it by a robot or two, perhaps.’

Oleander chuckled fawningly. ‘Statecraft, my lord. You are a wizard at statecraft! But think! The nations of the Borgor Alliance have already begun building their factory complexes – Borgor herself is particularly advanced in it. The advantages to be gained are overwhelming. Production lines may be operated in the first instance by unskilled labour, and finally can be made completely automatic. A commodity which an artisan would make at the rate of one a week can be turned out by one of these factories every two minutes! Think, at least, of the military potential this opens up!’

‘Well, what do you think, Jasperodus?’ Charrane asked.

‘I concur with your own outlook, sire. A society’s strength lies in its people, not in its machinery. A city of independent men is worth a continent of slaves. There must be some large-scale enterprises, of course – foundries, certain heavy industry and so forth – but the free artisan, plus the peasant-proprietor farmer, is by far the healthiest base for the economic pyramid. Besides, who would not prize the produce of a craftsman of Tansiann above the rubbish from a Borgor factory?’