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

Jasperodus observed them with curiosity. They were between four and five feet in height and seemed approximately manlike, at first reminding him of the fairy folk of legend. On closer inspection, however, the humanish appearance diminished. Their faces bore no more resemblance to a man’s than to, say, a tiger’s or a lizard’s, and were pinched and bony, giving an appearance of exaggerated delicateness. The proportions of body and limbs were also all their own, so that the correspondence to the human race consisted entirely of their being bimanual and bipedal.

They wore nondescript garments like coarse shifts and flaps. Jasperodus noticed that one of them was carrying a glass jar carefully in both hands, but he could not immediately see what it contained. With no evidence of fear or caution they walked directly into the small camp and sat down opposite the two travellers.

‘Good evening,’ said Inwing sardonically.

‘And likewise to you,’ replied one of the newcomers in a faint, breathless voice.

There was silence while the kurons stared into the fire and Inwing and Jasperodus stared in turn at them. Since they seemed in no hurry to explain their presence Jasperodus put a question of his own.

‘We are en route for Tansiann,’ he said, ‘but are unsure of its exact whereabouts. Perhaps you can direct us?’

‘You must travel on a course East and about forty degrees South,’ the kuron told him in the same piping, breathless voice: ‘Here we are on the western fringe of the New Empire; to the north are hostile nations which you must avoid. You will not, however, reach Tansiann unopposed in your aircraft. On approaching Kwengu you will be noted on radar and apprehended.’

‘Will we not then be allowed to continue?’ Jasperodus inquired.

‘That will depend on your business. I cannot say. We kurons prefer to live well outside the main stream of human life, by reason of past atrocities and persecutions.’

‘Indeed? That aspect of history is new to me. You have been badly treated?’

The other nodded awkwardly, in a way which suggested it was not a native gesture. ‘To survive the Dark Age was extremely difficult for us, for it was an age of violence and brutal ignorance. Prior to that time we had lived in the big human cities as well as in our own rural towns, engaging in trade and certain kinds of manufacture at which we excelled, but when the light of reason went out irrational hatreds were raised against us. Any misfortune or natural calamity was ascribed to our agency, and it was widely believed we practised malign magic. Massacre of kuron ghettoes became a frequent occurrence; added to which the breakdown of commerce rendered our normal livelihood impossible. Very few of us remained alive at the end of those bad centuries.’

‘You live now under the aegis of the New Empire?’ Jasperodus asked.

‘Many of us do; here its power is nominal only. But the Emperor Charrane has decreed that kurons are to live without molestation in the empire, and that is our main hope for the future. His laws are not always obeyed, but it is better than elsewhere, such as in the states dominated by Borgor where we are still openly persecuted.’

Inwing put in a word. ‘You come from another star, don’t you? If things were so bad why didn’t you fly off back to where you came from?’

The kuron turned to peer at him. ‘It was too late. We, too, shared the social decline, losing our knowledge and skills. We no longer had the ability to build star arks.’

‘How distant is your home star?’ Jasperodus asked. ‘How long did it take to get here?’

‘Earth is our home now; we are natural migrants in the true sense of the word. Our star of origin lies a hundred and thirty-five light-years away, and the journey takes a hundred and fifty-two years by star ark.’

Jasperodus gestured to the glass jar lying on the ground. ‘Presumably you saw our plane flying over and noted our landing place. What prompted you to visit us?’

‘We come to trade.’

The robot grunted. ‘Then you come in vain. We have no goods to offer. We have scarcely anything for ourselves.’

‘Untrue. You have the aircraft. We wish to bargain for that.’

Inwing shook his head. ‘We need it to travel to Tansiann.’

‘Sample our wares before you decide. One can travel without wings, even if more slowly.’ The kuron lifted the jar, which was dome-shaped. It contained dark red soil in which grew about a dozen small flowers, blurrily visible through the thick glass. ‘Here is something you cannot find even in Tansiann.’

He opened a lid at the top of the jar and reached down with a long, slender hand to pluck one of the flowers, which he brought forth. It was a simple enough flower, like an extra-large, lavender-coloured buttercup. ‘These flowers are grown in the soil of Kuronid, our aboriginal world, brought here in the original star ark and preserved for centuries since. They can be grown in no other soil. I will allow you to smell this first bloom free of charge; if you wish to keep it, and the others in this jar, you must give us your aircraft.’