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

‘It killed her,’ Eliot was repeating in a stunned, muttering voice. ‘It killed her.’

Abrak had persuaded him to return to the ship. They found that Balbain had abandoned his vigil and was pacing the central chamber situated over the laboratory. His bird-eyes glittered at them with unusual fervour.

‘We can delay no further,’ he boomed. ‘Dominus ’s qualities cannot be gainsaid. The sense of him is overpowering. Therefore my quest is at an end. I shall return home.’

‘No!’ crooned Abrak suddenly, in a hard tone Eliot had not heard him use before. ‘This planet also holds the promise of answering our requirements.’

‘You take second place. I originated this expedition, and therefore you are pre-empted.’

‘We shall see who will pre-empt whom,’ Abrak barked.

While the import of the exchange was lost on Eliot, he was bewildered at seeing these two, whom he had thought of as dispassionate men (beings, anyway) of science, quarrelling and snarling like wild dogs. So palpable was the ferocity that he was startled out of his numbness and waved his arms placatingly as though to separate them.

‘Gentlemen! Is this any way for a scientific expedition to conduct itself?’

The aliens glanced at him. Balbain’s mask had become wet – perhaps with the exudations of some emotion – and partly transparent. Through it Eliot saw the gaping square mouth that never closed.

‘Let us laugh,’ Balbain said, addressing Abrak.

They both gave vent to regular chuggling expulsions of air; it was a creaking monotone devoid of mirth, a weird simulation of human laughter. Neither species, to Eliot’s knowledge, was endowed with a sense of humour at all; once or twice before he had heard them use this travesty to indicate, in human speech, where they believed laughter would be appropriate.

He felt chilled. A feeling of alienness wafted towards him from the two beings, whom previously he had regarded as companions.

Balbain made a vague gesture. ‘We know that you judge us by your own standards,’ he said, ‘but it is not so. Like you, we each came on this expedition to satisfy cravings inherent in our species. But those cravings are different from yours and from each other…’

His voice softened and became almost caressing. Bending his head slightly, he indicated the wall of the ship, as though to direct Eliot’s attention outside.

‘Try to imagine what evolution means here on Five. It takes not aeons or millions of years to produce a biological invention, but only a few months. The Basic Polarity is not here to soften life’s blows; competition is so intense that Five is the toughest testing ground in the universe. The result of all this should be obvious. What we have here is the most capable, potentially the most powerful source of life that could possibly exist. And Dominus is the fulfilment of that process. The most intolerant, the most domineering —’ he put special emphasis on the word – ‘entity that the universe can produce!’

‘Domineering?’ echoed Eliot, frowning.

‘But of course! Think for a moment: what special quality must a creature develop on Five in order to make itself safe? The ability to dominate everything around it! Dominus has that quality to the ultimate degree. He is the Lord, in submission to whom my species can at last find peace of mind.’

Balbain spoke with such passion and in such a strange manner that Eliot could only stand and stare. Abrak spoke softly, turning his fox’s snout towards him.

‘It is hard for Balbain to convey what he is feeling,’ he crooned. ‘Perhaps I can explain it to your intellect, at least. First, the romantic picture you harbour concerning the fellowship of sentient minds is, I am afraid, quite incorrect. Mentalities are even more diverse in character than are physical forms. What goads us into action is not what goads you.’

‘Then we cannot understand one another?’ Eliot said.

‘Only indirectly. In almost every advanced species there is a central drive that comes from its evolutionary history and overrides all other emotions – in its best specimens. This overriding urge gives the race as a whole its existential meaning. To other races it might look futile or even ridiculous – as, indeed, yours does to us – but to the species concerned it is a universal imperative, self-evident and inescapable.’

He paused to allow Eliot to absorb what he was saying.

While Balbain looked on, seeming scarcely any less agitated, he continued calmly: ‘For reasons too complex to describe, life on Balbain’s world developed a submission-orientation. The physical conditions there, much harsher than those you are accustomed to, caused living beings to enter into an elaborate network of relationships in which each sought, not to dominate, but to be dominated by some other power, the stronger the better. This craving is thus the compass needle that guides Balbain’s species. To them it is self-fulfilment, the inner meaning of the universe itself.’

Eliot glanced at Balbain. The revelation made him feel uncomfortable.

‘But how can it be?’

‘Every species sees its own fixation as expressing the hidden nature of the universe. Do not you?’

Eliot brushed aside the question, which he did not understand. ‘But what’s all this about Dominus? ’

‘Why, he represents the other half of this craving. His is a mentality of compulsive domination. He rules this planet, and would rule any planet with which he came in contact. Balbain knows this. With Dominus to command them, his people will feel something of completeness.’

A small flash of insight came to Eliot. ‘That is his reason for this expedition?’

‘Correct. On his own world Balbain is a sort of knight, or saint, who has set out in search of this… Holy Grail.’

‘We shall offer ourselves as Dominus ’s slaves,’ Balbain boomed hollowly. ‘It is his nature to assume the position of master.’

Eliot tried to fight off his feeling of revulsion, but failed. ‘You’re… insane…’ he whispered.

Once again Abrak’s fake laughter chugged out. ‘But Balbain’s assessment of Dominus is perfectly correct. Five is the source of potentially the greatest, and in many ways the strangest, power that existence is capable of producing, and Dominus , at this moment in time, is the highest expression of that power. There can be others – and that is why it is of interest to my people! We also have an existential craving!’

His snout turned menacingly towards Balbain. Eliot thought suddenly of his frightening ability to generate infra-sound.

‘You will have no opportunity to satisfy it. Nothing will prevent us from becoming the property of Dominus .’ Balbain’s words throbbed with passion. He was like an animal in heat.

The two began to circle one another warily. Eliot backed towards the door, afraid of infra-sound. He saw Abrak’s snout open behind his mask.

Shuddering waves of vibration passed through his body. But, incredibly, in the same second Abrak died. His body was converting, from head down, into sand-coloured dust which streamed across the chamber in a rustling spray. Balbain’s claw-like hand held the presumed source of this phenomenon: a device consisting of a cluster of tubes. When nothing remained of Abrak he put it away in a fold of his garment.

‘Fear not,’ he said to Eliot in a conciliatory tone. ‘ You have no reason to obstruct me. After I take home the glad tidings, you can return to Solsystem.’

Eliot did not answer, but merely stood as if paralysed. Balbain gave a brief, apologetic burst of his simulated laughter, seeming to guess what was on Eliot’s mind.