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

‘Me? Why –’ Quelle gave a weak, hysterical laugh. He was, Aton noticed, wearing civilian clothes. ‘Just taking a spot of leave, Captain. Well-deserved leave. I’m on a cruise. I’ve got a medal now, you know. All of us have who got off the Smasher of Enemies. Except you, of course,’ he added thoughtfully. He gulped down the drink he had just bought, nearly choking on it. ‘Did you get a reprieve, Captain?’ he asked quaveringly. ‘How did you get here?’

‘Suffice it to say that I am here and that I can now remember all that took place on the Smasher of Enemies.’ Aton watched the look of agony that appeared on Quelle’s face. ‘How many of your friends are with you?’ he asked.

‘Eh? I’ve no friends here, sir.’

‘You’re lying. I happen to know who it is you are pursuing.’

Quelle’s glance flicked involuntarily to Inpriss Sorce, who sat watching anxiously from across the lounge. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

Perhaps Quelle was alone after all, Aton thought. Perhaps he was merely shadowing Inpriss Sorce and others would take over when the ship reached Umbul. But the gunnery sergeant’s shiftiness and deceit was so plain that nothing could be taken as certain.

‘Are you going to turn me in, sir?’ Quelle asked mildly, inspecting the bottles stacked against the bar.

‘Yes.’

‘Then why haven’t you done it before?’ Quelle turned to him, smirking. ‘You know what I think, Captain? I think you’re an escaped prisoner. I don’t know how you did it, but the fact you’re here shows you did. There’s a courier dispatch chamber waiting for you in Chronopolis, isn’t there? Maybe I should turn you in. Because whatever you say it’s still your word against the testimony of eight witnesses.’

Aton stepped closer to the man. His hand darted inside Quelle’s jacket. As he had expected he found a tiny beamer, small enough to fit into the palm of a hand.

No one around them had noticed his sudden movement. ‘Let’s go and see the security officer, Quelle.’

Quelle stood his ground for a moment. Then, at an insistent nudge from Aton he reluctantly preceded him towards the exit.

Although unfamiliar with the layout of the civilian time-ship, Aton found the security office without difficulty. Quelle made no attempt to escape or to move against him, and Aton reflected that the Traumatic had made a good point. Back in Chronopolis his own story would carry little weight. But that did not matter; somehow or other he would rescue Inpriss Sorce from the Traumatic sect’s attentions.

In the security office was a middle-aged, long-jawed man in the blue uniform of the Buick line. Aton pushed Quelle in ahead of him.

‘Officer, I am Captain Aton of the Third Time Fleet,’ he announced. ‘This is one of my men, Sergeant Quelle, whom I must ask you to place under close arrest. He is a criminal, a perjurer and a heretic, a member of the Traumatic sect, and he is currently engaged in hounding one of your passengers with intent to murder her.’

The officer looked from one man to the other, his face impassive. But behind that impassivity Aton caught feelings that were unsettling – recognition of Quelle, dismay at the whole proceeding.

‘Serious charges,’ said the officer. ‘One moment, I’ll call my men.’

He pressed a button. Almost immediately two security guards appeared at the door. Uneasy now, Aton turned to face them.

‘He has my beamer,’ Quelle said quickly.

A numbing, stinging shock struck Aton in the neck and spread down to his shoulders and arms. The beamer slipped from his nerveless grasp; his arms hung uselessly. He swung around clumsily and saw the security officer holding the numb-prong with which he had half-paralysed him.

The door slammed shut. All four men crowded around Aton, pushing him back. ‘What on Earth happened?’ the officer snarled at Quelle.

‘He knows about me,’ Quelle said in a surly tone. ‘He’s supposed to be dead; we thought we’d fixed him in Chronopolis. Hulmu help me, I nearly dropped when I saw him in the passenger lounge just now.’

‘Does the girl know about you too?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘You’d better stay out of her way. We can’t let this get to the captain.’

Aton made a lunge for freedom, kicking with his feet, butting and shoving with his body. Before he could gain the door they had restrained him and held him in a corner where he panted in quiet fury.

Quelle swaggered in front of him. ‘It’s not only the Imperial Time Service that’s host to the Cult of Hulmu, Captain. We Traumatics make much use of the internodal facilities.’

‘What shall we do with him, Quelle?’ the security officer asked.

‘Maybe we could use him,’ one of the guards said in a caressing voice, looking Aton over in a way that was incongruous coming from this burly, blue-jowled strong-arm man.

‘Don’t be a fool, he hasn’t been pointed.’

‘He’s no problem,’ Quelle said gleefully. ‘He may have been my captain once, but the truth is that now he’s a condemned convict who’s escaped from the Courier Service. We can get rid of him without anybody asking questions.’