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

Finally the silence was broken by Erkarn. ‘Well, you can see how it is, Erled. The decision of the Council was unanimous except for one abstaining vote.’ He glanced disapprovingly at Ergurur. ‘You are to forget these mad dreams and that’s a command.’

‘You’re stifling something that can’t be stifled for ever,’ Erled muttered peevishly.

‘You will mend your ways and forget the whole matter,’ Erkarn said sternly. ‘There is still the business of the illegal drilling hanging over you. We are willing to suspend the charges if it is seen that you show contrition – do you understand?’

‘Yes,’ said Erled sullenly.

‘Very well, then. The disposal of the solidity ship will be considered later. Much emptiness to you.’

‘Much emptiness,’ muttered Erled, and turned away.

Erled’s resentment did not abate during the next few hours, but he had no thought of defying the Council. He was powerless against the Proctors, and he did not relish the thought of the criminal charges, with which he was being frankly blackmailed, being laid against him.

It would have to be left to some future generation, he told himself, to carry out the great task of exploring the universe.

He did not immediately convey the news to his colleagues in the project. Instead he felt in need of some different kind of comfort, and when the relaxation period arrived he made his way to the dwelling of Ergrad’s family, to call on his betrothed, Fanaleen.

The thought of facing his future father-in-law so soon after his humiliation partly at his hands caused Erled a slight degree of trepidation, but he reassured himself that on such visits Ergrad usually put in only a brief appearance or none at all. However, as he approached Ergrad’s well-appointed dwelling through a low-ceilinged passage, the tall, hooded figure of the Proctor Enforcer suddenly appeared from nowhere and barred his way.

This section of the passageway was dimly lit. Erled felt menaced by the looming form. Dark black eyes flashed at him from beneath the cowl.

‘Proctor Ergrad,’ he stuttered. ‘I have come to see Fanaleen –’

‘Turn round, Erled, and go home. You’re not welcome here.’

Erled was astounded. ‘But – Proctor –’

Ergrad clenched his fist in exasperation. ‘Can you be so thick-headed?’ he growled. ‘Didn’t you see what went on in the Chamber today? You’re finished, Erled, you’ll be a nobody for the rest of your life. Not the sort of man I’ll allow to marry into my family. You’ll never see Fanaleen again.’

Abruptly the Proctor turned and strode towards his dwelling. For nearly a minute Erled stared after his retreating back, the finality of what had happened slowly seeping into him.

Never see Fanaleen again.

There could be no revision of that sentence. It was a strict law that the union between a couple must be agreeable to the parents. And the word of a Proctor was inviolate.

Dazed, Erled allowed his feet to carry him to the only place where he was likely to find understanding: the Inn of Vacuous Happiness, the haunt of his friends and colleagues in the solidity ship project. As he anticipated, they were all busy drinking there, and Ereton, with whom he shared co-leadership of the project, greeted him eagerly. So, in their favourite room where the ceiling beams touched one’s head if one stood erect, he explained the double disaster.

Ereton squeezed his shoulder consolingly. ‘It appears that we chose the wrong time,’ he said sombrely.

‘There’ll never be a right time in this generation,’ Erled exclaimed heatedly. ‘And we’ll never get a chance to search for other worlds. What right have the Proctors to dictate to our consciences like this? It’s tyranny!’

The others agreed fervidly, after which Erled retired to a corner and brooded. His resentment was building up like a burning fire, and as with so many men before him, the tragedy of thwarted love turned his mind to lofty sentiments, so that he began to think again about his lifelong dream: the existence of other cavities. As if hypnotised, he returned to the cosmological questions that at various times had haunted him. Was the rock really infinite? It had to be – for, if at some extreme it ended, what lay beyond that end? An infinity of emptiness, as Ereton, in a fit of brilliant extravagance, had once suggested? Erled soon pushed the idea aside. Baffling though the concept of infinity itself was, an empty infinity was something the mind simply could not grasp, and besides the notion was needlessly artificial.

He had expected to get drunk, but two hours later he found that he was still completely sober, having drunk but little. Ereton, too, did not seem to be in a mood for drinking. All seven others, however, drank heavily, and as their intoxication increased so did their indignation at the Proctors’ decision. Erled found himself aggravated by the noise and he was about to suggest to Ereton that they leave when there was the sound of a disturbance and the flimsy screen door burst open.