Collision with Chronos

Because, in rolling, sonorous tones, the Prime Minister was praising the workers of the Production Retort for their timely intervention.

“Your sense of civil duty is gladdening to the heart,” he said after a lengthy address, his aristocratic face impressively unreadable. “And now that the foreign barbarian has been driven out, we can all return to our allotted places and restore the perfect harmony of an ordered society.”

He stepped back, folded his hands, smiled benignly upon Su-Mueng and upon the Production Retort managers who stood to one side, and retired to the rear of the balcony.

He’s stolen the show, thought Sobrie. Poor Su-Mueng.

The managing director of the Production Retort came forward, inclined his head toward Hwen Wu, and then turned to speak a few polite words to the crowd, expressing his satisfaction at having served the city.

The workers gazed up at him with blank, curious faces. Everything was orderly and peaceful. With a shock Sobrie realised that they were going to return without argument to the Lower Retort, to their factories, their crude amusements.

The manager left the stage. Su-Mueng, Sobrie saw, was floundering. As a revolutionary, he was still a simpleton. He didn’t have a clue as to how to effect social change: he thought it would happen of its own accord.

After hesitating, Su-Mueng took a step forward, but Sobrie overtook him and stepped into the centre of the crowd’s attention.

What could he say that would begin the work of changing these people’s minds? Of setting them on the course that would lead to equality between all men? Sobrie searched his mind, running through endless revolutionary texts, until he came to the most ancient evocation of all: one that was legendary, almost mythical, having been handed down since long before recorded history.

He raised his clenched fist. “Workers of the world, arise!” he began. “You have nothing to lose but your chains. …”

14

Their footsteps echoed loudly in the big underground cavern. Planetary Leader Limnich, surrounded by aides and guards, was met just outside the door to the office complex by a tall, self-composed Colonel Brask.

“You got my message?” Limnich said after they’d saluted. “You understood its import?”

“I understood, Planetary Leader.” Brask opened the door, inviting Limnich inside.

The Planetary Leader signalled his entourage to wait, then went in alone. Thankfully he settled himself in a deep leather armchair, as though exhausted. “You see why I had to contact you by code. Didn’t want to trust vidphone transmissions with this … these days secrecy is becoming imperative. …”

He blinked, and then sniffed. He was feeling cold and shivery, but knew it was only his imagination, prompted by the knowledge that so many districts were down with the plague. The virological laboratories were working desperately to combat the flood of new diseases that were appearing, almost certainly alien-caused, but as soon as one antibody was found another virus seemed to arise.

“Have you had time to confirm what you put in your message, Leader?” Brask asked him.

Limnich nodded. “It’s true, all right. Whole regions have simply vanished off the map. Some new alien weapon, obviously, though the Mother knows what kind of device can annihilate people, buildings, and vegetation without leaving a trace. No radiation, nothing. Just bare soil.”

“But it’s mostly dev reservations that have vanished? Isn’t that a little odd?”

Limnich shrugged. “Perhaps the aliens thought them convenient testing grounds. It isn’t anything we’ve done, I can assure you of that. But you can see how serious the situation is. Is Measure C in hand?”

“Yes, Planetary Leader. The first wave will leave in a few minutes.”

He switched on a large vidscreen. Limnich saw fine, upright men in time-combat suits, just marching away from their preflight ceremonies. He looked at them closely, admiring their courage, their dedication.

There was no time, now, to wait until the Legions of Kronos were up to the strength Limnich had wanted for the final assault. There was no time to build up the measures that would have given the warriors of time a fighting chance of personal survival. These were suicide crews, men who would battle through against all odds to drop their hydrogen bombs, scores of bombs to each ship. Something like his old feeling of reassurance came over Limnich as he looked on their stern resolve. Hours before, he knew, each man had donated sperm for freezing and storage, so that he’d be honoured with the knowledge that his seed would continue to contribute to the blood of the race.

“Excuse me, Planetary Leader, but in accordance with the protocol we’ve set up, I must ask to be allowed to leave you now.”

Brask pressed a button. Another young officer came in – one more bright young man on which the Legions depended so much these days.

“Colonel Gole here will take over the project, as per your instructions, until the next wave is dispatched,” Brask said.