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

‘No copy has arrived here, and I presume it is still in the Decoding Room, or else has been delayed in Registry. I have made inquiries in both departments but so far have failed to elicit satisfactory answers. I gather copies have arrived in other offices, however.’

‘Never mind,’ Jasperodus said impatiently. ‘I will be with you shortly.’

He examined himself in the full-length mirror to see if he required scrubbing, then reached for his cloak bearing his badges of office. Perhaps, he told himself, he should begin to exert more direct pressure around himself, lest he stood in danger of losing his influence.

On the surface everything was going very well indeed. The new Mars Expeditionary Force – the three great invasion drums that had been Jasperodus’ brainwave – were nearing Mars. True, his rumoured promotion to Marshal-in-Chief had not materialised – Charrane had appointed Marshal Grixod instead – but in retrospect he was glad of it. The post had become largely a ceremonial one now that most decisions were taken by the planning staff, and Jasperodus had come to value his time.

With the military situation seemingly secure, Jasperodus had found his interest attracted to other matters of far-reaching import for the future of the Empire. He had set in motion a number of projects. Among these was a research project to analyse in detail the causes of the fall of Tergov, with a view to laying the New Empire on a sounder foundation.

The studies made by this team (under his guidance, admittedly) had already confirmed one notion he held: the decisive effect that systems of land-holding have on a society. It was instructive to see that in Tansiann the consequences of private land-ownership had been accelerating over the past five years. The disparities in individual wealth were now quite ludicrous. The proletarian class had swelled, while immense fortunes were being made at the other end of the scale – as Jasperodus well knew; he himself derived a huge income from speculation in land (through a holding company, since legally he was not entitled to own property).

It was still his hope to persuade the Emperor to undertake some reforms in this area, but at the moment, due to his own negligence, he carried less weight at court. Placing his attentions elsewhere had caused him to forget the prime strategy of a court functionary: to be constantly in the Emperor’s sight, and constantly to be inflating his self-esteem.

In addition, he had been encountering more opposition and hostility of late. It was strange, he thought – when he had been full of deviousness, guided only by self-interest, he had won friends and admiration. Now that his efforts were on behalf of the general good enemies were gathering around him.

He left his apartment and walked towards his office in the west wing of the palace. Passing through one of the many tall arcades that surrounded the central basilica he chanced to see, skulking behind the columns of the peristyle, a pair of sinister-looking, oversized robots known in construct parlance as wreckers. These were robots whose task it was to subdue and destroy other robots who, when the time came for their dissolution, were sometimes apt to display an overactive survival circuit and resist the proceedings.

A sneaking sense of unease came over him, though he could not specify its source. He walked a short distance further and then heard a voice address him by his rank of marshal. One of the housemen hurried up and spoke loftily to him, without the deference he was usually accorded.

‘There are visitors to see you, sir.’ And the houseman turned away, as though that were the end of the matter.

Advancing behind him came the two wreckers. Jasperodus stared spellbound at these twin servants of doom. They were built for strength alone; the engines that drove their powerful limbs were housed in hulking carapace-like hulls which, added to their grotesque claw-like hands, gave them a dreadful crustacean appearance, like some species of giant crab-man.

‘You will accompany us, sir,’ said one in a hoarse voice.

Jasperodus had almost let them touch him before he goaded himself into action. With a wild, fearful cry he flung himself away and went pounding down the concourse.

In a minute he had gained the basilica. The doors, as usual at this time of day, were unguarded and he went bursting through them.

The throne in the apse was unoccupied. At a table midway down the hall the Emperor Charrane sat talking with Ax Oleander and another vizier, the mild-mannered Mangal Breed.

All three turned to see what had caused the commotion. Oleander greeted Jasperodus’ arrival with his normally unvarying hostile stare; but this time it bore the added tang of an inward triumph.

Jasperodus rushed forward and sank to his knees before the Emperor.

‘Sire! On whose orders am I to be junked?’

‘On mine, of course,’ Charrane said indifferently. ‘Whose else?’

‘But, my lord – why?’