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

The detective nodded. ‘The sect is very resourceful. It has good contacts in the internodal travel services.’

‘I see,’ muttered Vro. ‘And how soon before my beloved Veaa is found?’

The other gave a worried sigh. ‘The trail has petered out, Your Highness. Quite frankly I do not understand it. I have never come up against such a blank wall before. Even if the body had been disposed of in some way – and I seriously doubt that it has – the methods I have used should have given me some information about it. Everything that happens leaves a trace that the trained investigator can pick up.’

‘What are you babbling about, Rolce?’ Vro swung around and confronted the older man, hands on his hips. ‘You are not doing your job! Is your fee not inducement enough?’

‘It is not that, Your Highness!’ the investigator protested. ‘My entire agency – which is an organisation to be reckoned with – is engaged solely upon this one assignment. We have never failed yet. But something odd seems to have happened.’

For the first time Perlo Rolce displayed a degree of discomfiture. He shifted uneasily in his chair.

‘At my headquarters we have the man who shipped out the body of Princess Veaa,’ he said. ‘We are certain we have not mistaken his identity. Earlier we picked up his thoughts on the subject with a field-effect device.’

‘And?’

‘He does not know anything about it any longer. He does not remember leaving Chronopolis on the requisite date.’

‘His mind has been tampered with.’

‘That might be the explanation if we relied on physical persuasion alone. He knows nothing of Princess Veaa, except vaguely as a one-time member of the imperial family. Yet we know for a fact that he had custody of the body for a considerable period of time.’

‘Just what are you suggesting?’

The investigator looked, briefly, straight into Vro’s eyes, something he had never done before. ‘I do not know, Your Highness. I am a detective, not a Chronotician. But I am beginning to get the feeling that something outside my control has closed off the investigation.’

He hesitated before going on. ‘The phenomenon is not unknown to me. Of late, there have been a number of such cases. Odd details that do not mesh together – a cause not producing the usual effect, or an effect not preceded by the usual cause. Only someone like myself, trained to notice details, would pick them up. In my belief the war with the Hegemony is beginning to touch us, even here at Node One. Time is under strain.’

The prince brooded on his words. ‘It almost sounds as though you were looking for excuses,’ he said in a surly tone.

‘Your Highness, I assure you of my sincerity.’

‘Well, are you implying you wish to leave off the assignment?’

‘The Rolce Agency does not abandon assignments,’ Rolce told him. ‘There is one move still left to us. We have procured an orthophase and I am negotiating for the clandestine use of a time-travel unit.’

‘I could have arranged that for you,’ Vro interrupted in a mutter.

Rolce shrugged. ‘One of my agents will phase himself into the past and carry out a surveillance of our prisoner at the time he hid and transported the body of Princess Veaa. If we find that he did not commit these acts – as we know he did – then it will demonstrate that time has mutated in some peculiar way, leaving loose ends.’

‘In a very peculiar way,’ Prince Vro agreed huffily. ‘Are you not aware that a time-mutation leaves no loose ends and is generally undetectable after the event?’

‘I am aware of it, Your Highness, but I must deal in facts.’ He rose and handed the prince an envelope. ‘Here is my written report of all information to date.’

‘Thank you, my good fellow. Come and see me again soon.’

After the detective had gone the young prince stood for a long time with the envelope unopened in his hand, staring into space.

Defeat is never a pleasant thing to have to recount to one’s master. Commander Haight’s large, rugged face was stonily impassive as he answered the emperor’s probing questions concerning the attempt to save Gerread.

At length Philipium I uttered a deep trembling sigh. ‘No blame,’ he said, to Haight’s relief. ‘The action was gallantly fought. Tonight the Military Council meets. We shall be discussing what action to take between now and the launching of the armada. There will be some, no doubt, who wish to abandon the enterprise and make peace overtures with the Hegemony.’ He looked closely at the commander. ‘How do you read the situation?’

‘The armada must be launched as soon as possible, Your Majesty – much sooner than was originally planned. The time-distorter is a terrible weapon. I cannot guarantee the ability of the defensive forces to ward off every attack that might be made.’

‘Can we not set up time-blocks?’