Barrington Bayley: Collision with Chronos

And at the moment a chill more penetrating than their veiled threats had entered his loins. The picture of alien fingers meddling with man’s genetic heritage was a vision of pure horror.

“You’re right, absolutely right,” he said in subdued tones. “We need to call on all our resources to meet a threat as big as this. Yet to be honest I don’t see what I can do that I’m not already doing. The Hathar Ruins are just about played out. I don’t think I can draw any more fresh conclusions without fresh evidence.”

The two Titans glanced at one another. Brourne nodded, and instantly the atmosphere seemed to relax.

“We’re aware of your difficulties,” the Titan-Major said, “and we have some news for you. In another part of the world a discovery has been made that you don’t yet know about. We want you to take part in a field trip.”

A feeling of relief swept over Heshke. He was not going to be purged after all!

Traditionally suspicious of everyone, the Titans had been baiting him, sounding out his attitudes to make sure he was the right man for the job. Evidently it was something they couldn’t use one of their own people for – Heshke was well aware that they would have liked to dispense with the services of civilians altogether, but they couldn’t. Titan scientists, if left to their own resources, too often seemed to fall down in the last analysis, tripped up by their attachment to prejudicial theories. Heshke was the foremost authority in his field and they needed him and men like him.

Often he had wondered what he would do if, appallingly, he was offered a Titan commission. To accept or to refuse both had the aspect of suicide.

“The trip is extremely unusual in nature,” Brourne continued. “I must warn you that there is a certain degree of danger involved.”

Heshke blinked. “Physical danger?”

“Yes. Not the sort of thing an archaeologist usually has to face, I know, but…” Brourne shrugged, waving his hand casually.

“No, no, not altogether.” Heshke became excited. “As a profession we’re always prepared – unknown regions, and all that. Where will we be going? Into a dev reservation?”

“I’m sorry, the details are top secret at the moment. You’ll be briefed in good time.”

It had to be a dev reservation, Heshke thought. Where on a conquered, controlled planet could there be risk to life and limb except in one of the special regions where a few surviving deviants were allowed to survive for purposes of study? The Titans must have made an important find there – perhaps a hitherto unknown alien settlement.

“Surely you can give me some indication?” he persisted. “I’d like to have some idea of what to expect.”

Brourne hesitated, an unusual gesture for him. “One of our teams has found an alien artifact in good condition. In working order, in fact. It’s a more significant find than anything else we’ve ever turned up… I’m afraid I can’t tell you more. The truth is I’m not allowed to know much myself. But you must be prepared to be called away on short notice.”

He came to his feet again, signalling that the interview was at an end. “Well there it is, Citizen, I’m glad to see you so enthusiastic. I hope we can depend on you to do your damnedest for us… for humanity.…”

Heshke rose, made a curt bow, and left.

Squat conical towers.

Throughout the world these were the features of alien architecture to survive more than any other, probably by reason of being the most difficult for time or man to dismantle. The ruins Heshke and his team were studying sported plenty of them.

He arrived back at the site at sunset. The Hathar Ruins, as the site was called, was one of the most important of outworlder remains, and one of the best preserved. More typical were the expanses of fused glass where cities and settlements had been destroyed by nuclear bombardment. The Hathar Ruins had not sustained an atomic hit, but they had suffered extensive damage from less powerful weapons; nevertheless they still exuded a rich aura of a bygone race. Crumbled walls, curiously curved and rounded, wavered toward the sky. The short conical towers seemed to sprout everywhere and at all levels. It was hard to believe that the aliens had been on Earth for a comparatively short time – which had to be the case if history made any sense at all. This settlement, and even more so the larger settlements dotted around the world, were clearly built to last.

The team was just finishing its day’s work of carefully sifting earth. Heshke hurried over to the finds tent, hoping to see some new artifact, perhaps even a document in the cryptic alien script that no one, so far, had deciphered. As usual, he was disappointed. In the North Sector, in the large building popularly known as the Cathedral, someone had uncovered a glass object of which there were already scores of samples. It was believed to be a common domestic article used for squashing fruit.

That, in essence, was most of what they had. Simple articles of common use, elementary tools, some furniture. From skeletons they had a fair idea of the aliens’ physical appearance. But the advanced technology, the machines, equipment, records – virtually the whole apparatus of a tremendously advanced species – had all gone in the frenzy of annihilation in which the men of the past had torn through everything alien, burning and pulverising. A few rusted, mangled machines had been found, but not enough to reconstruct even approximately what the outworld technology had been like.

Heshke did not blame the men who had carried out this destruction – they had seen their planet despoiled, their society wrecked – but in retrospect it was an unintelligent move.

He could not wait to see the functional artifact that Brourne had promised.

He was watching a young teamster clean the fruit-squasher, when there was a movement behind him. He turned to see Blare Oblomot, his chief assistant.

“Well, Rond,” Blare said breezily, “what did the Titans want?”

Heshke coughed, looking nervously at the teamster. He took it for granted that someone on his team was a Titan “watcher”, and it made him feel uncomfortable. He jerked his head toward the exit.

“How about a drink in your place?” he said once they were outside. As they walked toward Blare’s quarters he noticed that the camp seemed abnormally quiet and even Blare seemed slightly uneasy. That was odd: the tousle-haired, raffish archaeologist usually had an unshakable confidence.

Blare lifted the flap to his tent for Heshke to enter. Seated at the small wooden table, he poured them both glasses of wine.

“The Titans have been here today,” he announced. “Asking questions. Practically interrogating everyone, in fact.”

Heshke started. “What kind of questions?”

“Political, what else?” Blare shrugged, looking away. “You know, I think I feel the cold wind of a purge coming on. They wanted to know a lot about you, too.”

Heshke put down his glass, feeling suddenly numb. So far he had managed to keep Titan influence at the site minimal. He had seen what happened when the Titans put in their own teams to work alongside civilian diggers: they soon dominated the entire project; scientific objectivity was the first casualty. He didn’t want that here.

At the same time the calculating coolness of it struck him. The Titans had wanted to investigate the project while he, its leader, was absent. Why?

“What did they ask about me?” he demanded.

“They seemed to want to find out whether you are… on their side, for lack of another way of putting it. Are you, Rond? What’s going on, anyway? Are we being taken over?”

Slowly Heshke shook his head. “No… it’s something else.” He was silent for a few moments. “My God, it must be something big,” he muttered wonderingly.