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

Jasperodus deliberated. He had gathered about a hundred men and they huddled in an archway hidden under a bridge carrying a railway track that led westward out of the city. They listened to the crackle of gunfire in the middle distance. Two men tinkered with a motorised vehicle captured by ambushing an imperial patrol.

‘I have a private mission,’ he confessed. ‘Possibly I could accomplish it alone. If you prefer you may take charge of operations until I return and conduct them as you see fit.’

Somewhat displeased by his attitude, but asking no questions, Arcturus agreed. ‘We will proceed towards the palace and try to organise matters in a somewhat more coordinated fashion,’ he said. Just then the robot carrying the field vidset again appeared, having attached it to a booth in the next street, and Chisel once more faced Jasperodus.

This time there was no head tremor and the cretinous robot’s voice was full of confidence. ‘Success, Jasperodus! Our goal is achieved! It is impossible for the assassins to kill Major Inwing now!’

A feeling of relief flooded Jasperodus. ‘You carried out my instructions?’

‘Indeed yes. A room with no window and only one door. Bootmaker is there this very minute. Many difficult decisions were involved in finding the room! Breaking down doors, arguing with tenants – furthermore, by vigorous application of intense mentation all conditions stipulated by you have been fulfilled …’

‘What is the address?’ Jasperodus interrupted.

‘The house is at the north end of Monk Street, second from the corner with Abbey Street, and is set back from the road. We are on the third floor, at the rear.’

‘Then I am barely a mile and a half from you, I believe. I hope to be there within minutes.’ He handed back the set to the carrying robot.

Wondering if he would be able to find a doctor for Cree in the vicinity, he set out in the motor vehicle, which had a raised armoured skirt for protection from gunfire. Otherwise he carried only his long-tubed beamer. The vehicle was steam-driven, with a small fast-heat fire-box fuelled by pellets made from a woody composite. He worked a lever, pumping in pellets, then steamed up the engine. The vehicle rolled out from under the archway, careened round the corner and down the road to the main avenue separating the boroughs.

The imperial troops had set up firing points on all the main intersections and on many minor ones, thus establishing an effective cross-fire. Jasperodus’ advantage was that they did not always immediately recognise him for a robot, and so tended not to bring into use their beamers, which alone could destroy him. He swept at speed through the streets between him and North Subuh. Bullets drummed against the skirting and occasionally pinged off his body, but he clung to the steering wheel and managed to keep his seat. Once a beam hit the side of the truck, burned its way through the skirting and hissed behind his back, but it did not touch him. Eventually he realised that the firing had stopped; he was through the cordon and in Subuh.

The house was as Chisel had described it. The line of tenements was broken just there and the building stood alone, set back from the street. Otherwise it had the same unkempt appearance; the stonework was grimy and cracked, many of the windows were broken. The front door had been broken down – by Chisel and Bootmaker, presumably. Cautiously Jasperodus entered a darkened hallway and mounted narrow stairs. Surprisingly, the robots had chosen well. The house offered good defensive positions, with its sharp twists and turns and close passages.

On the third floor he found a door at the end of a short passage, facing the back of the house. He hammered on it.

‘Who is there?’ cried Chisel’s excited voice from within. ‘No stranger may enter! Depart or face our machine-guns!’

‘It is I, Jasperodus,’ Jasperodus called.

‘Jasperodus, our commander! You indeed may enter!’ There came the sound of furniture being shifted behind the door, then of a lock being turned, then the door was flung open.

‘All is as I have stated,’ Chisel exulted. ‘It is absolutely impossible for the assassination squad to kill Major Inwing now.’ He gestured with a flourish. ‘See – we have killed him ourselves! How now will the assassins perform the act?’

Jasperodus stepped into the cramped, grimy room and stared aghast at the scene that met his eyes. On a blood-drenched pallet bed against the far wall lay the corpse of Cree Inwing, his skull crushed and battered by some blunt instrument. Near him stood Bootmaker the cobbling robot, his dull red eyes staring passively at Jasperodus and a machine-gun held awkwardly in his hands.

‘A perfect strategy to thwart the desires of the assassins who are hunting the major!’ claimed Chisel in a voice that invited congratulation.