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

‘Your Holiness, the matter I have touched upon. You must agree that the Church, the empire, everything that has been achieved stands to be destroyed if the war continues. Instruct your Church in the foolishness of this Armageddon. The emperor is a deeply religious man; he would obey any command that came from you.’

San Hevatar smirked ever so slightly. He turned and glanced at the aged assistant who also sat with him, as though sharing some private joke with him.

‘Have you so little faith?’ he said quietly. ‘The Church, the empire cannot – must not – be destroyed. It is eternal. The armada is God’s plan. The Evil One must be fought. Mankind must be saved.’

As he uttered the last words San Hevatar seemed to find speech increasingly difficult. To Aton’s amazement he passed his hand over his eyes and seemed to be in distress, rocking to and fro.

‘Fight the enemy of mankind, Captain Aton!’ he gasped as though in a trance. ‘Conquer his minion! All is not as it seems!’

Aton was fascinated to hear the prophet coming out with words almost identical to those of the Imperator. Then San Hevatar seemed to recover himself and become once more self-composed. He stood up.

‘Your concern, though bordering on the heretical, is commendable,’ he said smoothly, as though unaware of his words of a moment before. ‘It deserves a reward. It would be possible for me to have your sentence of death commuted. We have a certain monastery where by means of special techniques your dangerous gift can be unlearned and your nervous system returned to normal. Of course, it would be necessary for you to pass the rest of your life in seclusion, as a monk. You know too much to be returned to public life.’ He nodded. ‘Spend the night here and think it over. Rilke will look after you.’

Suddenly Aton said, ‘What do you know about a man with jewels for eyes?’

He did not know why the image had come to his mind so abruptly, but the prophet’s mouth opened and his face went ashen.

‘You have met him? Already?’

‘Yes.’

San Hevatar’s expression closed up. He reminded Aton of an insulted woman as he swept from the chamber, his long cope rustling.

The old man regarded Aton for long moments with tired eyes. ‘My name’s Dwight Rilke,’ he said, standing and offering his hand. ‘Come along with me, I’ll find you a room.’

Aton had slept for a number of hours when he was awakened by the sound of the door opening. He sat up. At the same time, the light came on.

Dwight Rilke entered the room, looking stooped, defeated and very tired. ‘Sorry if I’m disturbing you, Captain, but I want to talk to you,’ he said. He found a chair and sat down close to Aton, then licked his lips before speaking again in a dry, ancient voice.

‘Listen, I’ve been doing some hard thinking,’ he said. His eyes, though tired, were almost unnaturally bright. ‘San Hevatar isn’t really capable of responding to what you’ve been saying, you know. He’s too deep into his role … the whole weight of the empire is on him. I’m the one you should have been talking to, because I’m the one you’ve convinced.’

Aton felt a stir of interest. ‘Just who are you?’

‘Me? I was Hevatar’s assistant, you know.’

‘Yes, I can see that.’

‘No, I’m not talking about this religious stuff. I was his assistant; his scientific assistant. We were on the project together.’

‘The project?’

‘Yes. Would you like to see it?’ Rilke rose. ‘Come on, I want to show it to you. You don’t mind, do you?’

He waited while Aton quickly dressed. Then Aton followed him through the passages and courtyards of the still brightly lit manse. Cowled monks and comforters stood guard here and there, some wearing handguns strapped over their habits. Rilke ignored them all, however, and halted before a door apparently made of solid lead. He took a big iron key from beneath his cloak and inserted it in a keyhole. There was a loud click, and the door swung open.

‘Here you are, this is where it all began.’

They entered what Aton, after, first taking in the profusion of heavy-duty equipment, realised was a high-energy physics research laboratory. This, he supposed with a feeling of awe, was the centrepoint of the whole empire.

Carefully Rilke closed the door behind them.

‘So this is where San Hevatar discovered the secret of time-travel!’ Aton breathed reverently.

‘Him? He didn’t discover it,’ Rilke told him flatly. ‘I did.’

Aton stared at him blankly. ‘You?’