The Rod of Light (Soul of the Robot)

When in the service of the New Empire, Jasperodus had been attached to the Emperor Charrane’s planning staff. In that capacity he had become familiar with the geography of Worldmass, Earth’s greatest continent, and he had become particularly well acquainted with its north-east chunk, for this was the home of the group of states collectively known as the Borgor Alliance, comprising Borgor, Rendare, Kazzakalia, Krasnoy, and a host of smaller nations held in virtual thralldom.

Climatically, the region was peculiar, having undergone several precipitate changes in the past several thousand years. For a brief period it had been equable, somewhere between the last great ice age and the onset of urban civilisation. Then the temperature had fallen, suddenly and catastrophically, gripping the subsoil in permafrost and leaving the landscape a frozen waste for most of the year—difficult to colonise, or even to exploit, despite its immense material resources.

The Rule of Tergov had just as swiftly reversed the area’s fortunes. By a clever piece of geographical engineering, which involved controlling the off-shore ocean currents, a system of warmed inland seas to shift the winds, and a mirror in space to enhance solar radiation, the northeast of Worldmass had once more become temperate. Its population expanded, and it grew wealthy.

Now, with Tergov gone, nature was slowly re-establishing her former regime of cold. The space mirror had long vanished from its orbit, of course, while the sea barrage for directing the warm ocean currents had fallen into ruin. The artificial seas still remained, and these served to trap solar heat, but there was no doubt that the territory was cooling.

In fact this was one reason for the bitter hatred between the Alliance and the New Empire to the south. The Emperor’s advisers were of the view that the northern peoples perceived their countries to be on the verge of becoming virtually uninhabitable. The Emperor had continually been warned (and not without justification) that the Borgors planned to conquer the south and transfer their populations there.

Just the same, when Jasperodus had suggested easing the north’s anxiety by no longer preventing Borgor from installing a new space mirror, the idea had been furiously rejected.

For hour after hour the small aircraft streaked north, clinging to the landscape like a low-flying bird. If possible Jasperodus wanted to fly into Borgor itself. How he would then gain his ends, and escape being destroyed minutes after leaving the plane, he was not sure. His intention at present was simply to fly straight to the capital, Breshk, put down on the landing field, announce himself and try to persuade the Borgor military of the seriousness of his mission….

He skirted the Geeb Sea so that he could approach from the south-west, reasoning that the Borgors probably experienced little trouble from that direction. It was certain that the Alliance was an in-depth hedgehog of radar tracking stations, but he doubted that they would pick him up: the plane’s radar-absorbing alloy was a Gargan Cult invention, and he did not think humans possessed it. At any rate it was unheard of when he left the New Empire. As for visual sightings, once in Alliance territory he could expect to pass without notice in the general air traffic.

Night fell and the towns dotting the steppe grew more numerous. He became unsure of his surroundings, the control panel having no map and only a crude compass, but he thought he had overflown Rendare and crossed the border into Borgor.

It was then that his sketchy plan fell to pieces. His radar picked up three blips, approaching fast. They veered, seeming to lose him, then to find him again, and came directly on.

He switched on his radio, phasing rapidly through the frequencies until he heard the pilots talking in the guttural accents of Borgor, whose language was a particularly strangled dialect of the common speech of Old Tergov.

Over the fading carrier wave came a young male voice. ‘What do you mean, you can’t see him? We can see him.’

Presumably the speaker was talking to a radar station. His own tail glare, Jasperodus realized, was making him noticeable in the darkness. Although the reaction gases did not actually burn, they were hot enough to make the ventura glow after a while. Probably he had been spotted from the ground.

Another, less distinct voice broke in. ‘Treat as hostile. Engage and destroy.’

Did the Borgors treat every unidentified aircraft in this way? Jasperodus swung hard over, wondering if he could outrun his pursuers. His plane was armed, with missiles that could lock on a visual or radar image, but he did not want to commit a hostile act.

Best would be to put down somewhere, preferably somewhere with cover. He switched to infra-red vision and began looking for one of the infrequent forested areas. The three interceptors fanned out, seeking to box him in. They were as fast as he was, and they evidently knew their business.