Collision with Chronos

The generals opened their eyes with a snap, summoned from their meditation, and stood to attention while Planetary Leader Limnich seated himself at the head of the table. Then, stiffly, they seated themselves again.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” greeted Limnich in a distant, but conversational tone. “You must be wondering why I’ve convened the Council at this particular time, when our annual retreat together is so near. As you may guess, there’s news of import. But first, I’ll hear your reports.”

One by one the generals gave a brief résumé. The accounts were no more than recapitulations – each man commanded a vast area of activity and his real reports were massive documents handled by computers. But Limnich was never one to skimp on ritual. He bent his head to give closest attention to the remarks dealing with the pursuit of the Panhumanic League and the hunting down of racially impure persons, numbers of which still existed in normal society, even years after the last of the deviant wars.

“The work is long and arduous, but its conclusion is inescapable, gentlemen,” he commented. “It must be prosecuted with unremitting vigour. Earth’s destiny is dependent on a one hundred per cent purity of racial stock … but now to the main burden of my information tonight. …”

In the dimly lit chamber, whose illumination was supplied by shaded cressets, his voice fell to a dramatic murmur, the tone of voice he used on his extremely rare vidcasts – Planetary Leader Limnich was the most powerful man on Earth, but he was the power behind the throne, not the man on the throne itself. Ostensibly his title referred only to his command of the Titanium Legions. There was a World Racial President, a civilian, whom the Legions were sworn to protect. But in actuality Limnich handled nearly all practical affairs, and made nearly all important decisions, though frequently after conferring with the President.

“You all know of the work being undertaken at the Sarn Establishment, and of the discoveries that have been made there,” he said, placing both hands on the table and directing his gaze at the shining mahogany. “You were all informed, by secret memo, of the mysterious disappearance of our first functional time travelling machine, together with Chief Physicist Leard Ascar and archaeologist Rond Heshke.

“The loss of Ascar is a blow to our efforts, since his genius was instrumental in developing time theory, but luckily developments had already reached a stage where we were no longer dependent on him. We were able to bring our Marks Two and Three machines into use fairly quickly, and a search was undertaken for the expedition that failed to return. It was established that the expedition had actually landed at its destination. But although the whole of the route covered in the flight plan was thoroughly searched, as well as its environs and possible alternative routes that might have been taken in an emergency, no sign of the machine itself could be found.”

He paused, lifting his eyes to glower through his lenses like some frightening goblin. “We formed the conclusion that the machine had been intercepted by alien interventionists, and its occupants kidnapped.”

A tremor of consternation went around the table; backs stiffened. This was the stuff of which nightmares were made – the nightmares they had all experienced at some time since childhood, of strange beasts that dragged their victims into the abyss. And there was no abyss more bottomless, or more unknown, than that of time.

“Taking account of the possibility that the prisoners might be made to reveal the whereabouts of the Sarn Establishment, I immediately ordered the dispersal of its activities around the globe and the rapid building-up of our time travelling capabilities. With a determined allocation of resources, it was possible to bring to completion about twenty apparatuses and in the ensuing weeks a good start was made toward a more complete exploration of our time environment.

“Early on, one of the time machines was fired upon while in flight and destroyed. I had, however, given orders that the machines were only to travel in squadrons of three or more. The victim’s companions gave chase to its attacker and pursued it into the future, where they lost track of it. Later, more signs of the aliens’ presence were found, and revealed a situation of utmost danger. It seems that the aliens are extremely active in time, not only in the past, and in our present, but in the future also.”

“The future, Leader? But how can that be?” One of the burly Titan generals, a man in his sixties, turned to Limnich in puzzlement. He was like many of these older Titans who had been born and bred in the deviant wars. His life had been one of conquest and heedless force, and he had difficulty in understanding these abstract concepts.