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

by Barrington J. Bayley

  Dominus is an intelligent being, he told himself. Intelligent beings are motivated by curiosity and a sense of co-operation with other intelligent beings. His hunt for the slipper was, in fact, impelled more by the desire to prompt Dominus into co-operating with them again than by any interest in regaining the slipper itself, which could well be far away by now.

  ‘But, once having recaptured the creature, how will you retain it?’ inquired Abrak, looking meaningfully at the gaping hole in the chamber.

  ‘We’ll keep it under sedation,’ Eliot said, buckling on a protective suit.

  Minutes later he stood at the foot of the spaceship. Besides the protective suit he was armed with a gun that fired recently prepared sleep darts (they had worked on the slipper’s parent, following a biochemical analysis of that creature) and a cylinder that extruded a titanium mesh net.

  Though evincing less enthusiasm, Alanie and Abrak had nevertheless followed him, despite his waiver to the girl. Abrak was unprotected, carried no weapons, and relied on his flimsy ship mask to take care of Five’s atmosphere.

  The environment boomed, flickered and flashed all around them. To Eliot’s surprise the slipper could be seen less than a hundred yards away, lying quietly in the beams of their torches.

  He glanced up towards the bulk of Dominus, then stepped resolutely forward, aware of the footsteps of the others behind him.

  Up on the hill, Dominus began to move. Eliot stopped and stared up at him exultantly.

  ‘Eliot,’ Abrak crooned at his elbow, ‘I strongly recommend caution. Specifically, I recommend a return to the ship.’

  Eliot made no answer. His mind was racing, wondering what gesture he could make to Dominus when the vast beast recaptured the slipper and returned it to them.

  He was quite, quite wrong.

  Dominus halted some distance away, and extended a tongue, or tentacle, travelling at ground level almost too fast for the eye to follow. In little more than a second or two it had flashed across the sandy soil and scrubby grass, seized on Alanie, lifted her bodily from the ground and whisked her away before a scream could form in her throat. Eliot noticed, blurrily, that the entire length of the tentacle was covered with wriggling wormy protuberances.

  Even as Alanie was withdrawn into the body of Dominus Eliot was running forward, howling wildly and firing his dart gun. Light footsteps pattered to his rear; surprisingly strong, bony arms restrained his.

  ‘It is no use, Eliot. Dominus has taken her. He is not what you thought.’

  Early on Dominus had perceived that the massy object, which he now accepted came from beyond the atmosphere, was not itself a life-form but a life-form’s construct. The idea was already a familiar one: artifacts were rare on his planet – biological evolution was simpler – but there had been a brief period when they had proliferated, attaining increasing orders of sophistication until they had nearly devastated the continent. Stored in his redundant genes Dominus still retained all the knowledge of his ancestors on that score.

  From the construct emerged undoubtedly organic entities, and it was in this that the mystery lay: there were several of them. Dominus spent some time mulling over this inexplicable fact. Who, then, was owner of the construct? He noted that, within limits, all the foreign lifeforms bore a resemblance to one another, and reminded himself that ecological convergence was an occasional phenomenon within his own domain. Could this convergence have been carried further and some kind of ecological common action (he formed the concept with difficulty) have arisen among entities occupying the same ecological niche? He reasoned that he should entertain no preconceptions as to the courses evolution might take under unimaginably alien conditions. Some relationship even more incomprehensible to him might be the case.

  So he had been patient, watching jealously as the life-forms surveyed part of his domain in a flying artifact, but doing nothing. Then they had attempted, but failed, to capture some native organisms. Wanting to see what would take place, Dominus had delivered a few to them.

  When he saw the mutated life-form emerge from the construct on its escape bid, he knew it was as he had anticipated. The aliens must have made a genetic analysis of all their specimens. The massy construct was sealed against Dominus’s mutation-damping genes, and within that isolation they had carried out an experiment, subjecting one of the specimens to a challenge situation and prompting it to reproduce.

  Dominus could forbear no longer. He issued the slipper with a stern command to stay fast. It was sufficiently its father’s son to know what the consequences of disobeying him would be. Three alien lifeforms emerged in pursuit. To begin with, Dominus took one of the pair that were so nearly identical.

  Alanie Leitner floated, deep within Dominus’s body, in a sort of protein jelly. Mercifully, she was quite dead. Thousands of nerve-thin tendrils entered her body to carry out a brief but adequate somatic exploration. At the same time billions upon billions of RNA operators migrated to her gonads (there were two of them) and sifted down to the genetic level where they analysed her chromosomes with perfect completeness.

  ‘It killed her,’ Eliot was repeating in a stunned, muttering voice. ‘It killed her.’

  Abrak had persuaded him to return to the ship. They found that Balbain had abandoned his vigil and was pacing the central chamber situated over the laboratory. His bird-eyes glittered at them with unusual fervour.

  ‘We can delay no further,’ he boomed. ‘Dominus’s qualities cannot be gainsaid. The sense of him is overpowering. Therefore my quest is at an end. I shall return home.’

  ‘No!’ crooned Abrak suddenly, in a hard tone Eliot had not heard him use before. ‘This planet also holds the promise of answering our requirements.’

  ‘You take second place. I originated this expedition, and therefore you are pre-empted.’

  ‘We shall see who will pre-empt whom,’ Abrak barked.

  While the import of the exchange was lost on Eliot, he was bewildered at seeing these two, whom he had thought of as dispassionate men (beings, anyway) of science, quarrelling and snarling like wild dogs. So palpable was the ferocity that he was startled out of his numbness and waved his arms placatingly as though to separate them.

  ‘Gentlemen! Is this any way for a scientific expedition to conduct itself?’

  The aliens glanced at him. Balbain’s mask had become wet – perhaps with the exudations of some emotion – and partly transparent. Through it Eliot saw the gaping square mouth that never closed.

  ‘Let us laugh,’ Balbain said, addressing Abrak.

  They both gave vent to regular chuggling expulsions of air; it was a creaking monotone devoid of mirth, a weird simulation of human laughter. Neither species, to Eliot’s knowledge, was endowed with a sense of humour at all; once or twice before he had heard them use this travesty to indicate, in human speech, where they believed laughter would be appropriate.

  He felt chilled. A feeling of alienness wafted towards him from the two beings, whom previously he had regarded as companions.

  Balbain made a vague gesture. ‘We know that you judge us by your own standards,’ he said, ‘but it is not so. Like you, we each came on this expedition to satisfy cravings inherent in our species. But those cravings are different from yours and from each other …’

  His voice softened and became almost caressing. Bending his head slightly, he indicated the wall of the ship, as though to direct Eliot’s attention outside.

  ‘Try to imagine what evolution means here on Five. It takes not aeons or millions of years to produce a biological invention, but only a few months. The Basic Polarity is not here to soften life’s blows; competition is so intense that Five is the toughest testing ground in the universe. The result of all this should be obvious. What we have here is the most capable, potentially the most powerful source of life that could possibly exist. And Dominus is the fulfilment of that process. The most intolerant, the most domineering –’ he put special emphasis on the word – ‘entity that the universe can produce!’ />
  ‘Domineering?’ echoed Eliot, frowning.

  ‘But of course! Think for a moment: what special quality must a creature develop on Five in order to make itself safe? The ability to dominate everything around it! Dominus has that quality to the ultimate degree. He is the Lord, in submission to whom my species can at last find peace of mind.’

  Balbain spoke with such passion and in such a strange manner that Eliot could only stand and stare. Abrak spoke softly, turning his fox’s snout towards him.

  ‘It is hard for Balbain to convey what he is feeling,’ he crooned. ‘Perhaps I can explain it to your intellect, at least. First, the romantic picture you harbour concerning the fellowship of sentient minds is, I am afraid, quite incorrect. Mentalities are even more diverse in character than are physical forms. What goads us into action is not what goads you.’

  ‘Then we cannot understand one another?’ Eliot said.

  ‘Only indirectly. In almost every advanced species there is a central drive that comes from its evolutionary history and overrides all other emotions – in its best specimens. This overriding urge gives the race as a whole its existential meaning. To other races it might look futile or even ridiculous – as, indeed, yours does to us – but to the species concerned it is a universal imperative, self-evident and inescapable.’

  He paused to allow Eliot to absorb what he was saying.

  While Balbain looked on, seeming scarcely any less agitated, he continued calmly: ‘For reasons too complex to describe, life on Balbain’s world developed a submission-orientation. The physical conditions there, much harsher than those you are accustomed to, caused living beings to enter into an elaborate network of relationships in which each sought, not to dominate, but to be dominated by some other power, the stronger the better. This craving is thus the compass needle that guides Balbain’s species. To them it is self-fulfilment, the inner meaning of the universe itself.’

  Eliot glanced at Balbain. The revelation made him feel uncomfortable.

  ‘But how can it be?’

  ‘Every species sees its own fixation as expressing the hidden nature of the universe. Do not you?’

  Eliot brushed aside the question, which he did not understand. ‘But what’s all this about Dominus?’

  ‘Why, he represents the other half of this craving. His is a mentality of compulsive domination. He rules this planet, and would rule any planet with which he came in contact. Balbain knows this. With Dominus to command them, his people will feel something of completeness.’

  A small flash of insight came to Eliot. ‘That is his reason for this expedition?’

  ‘Correct. On his own world Balbain is a sort of knight, or saint, who has set out in search of this … Holy Grail.’

  ‘We shall offer ourselves as Dominus’s slaves,’ Balbain boomed hollowly. ‘It is his nature to assume the position of master.’

  Eliot tried to fight off his feeling of revulsion, but failed. ‘You’re … insane …’ he whispered.

  Once again Abrak’s fake laughter chugged out. ‘But Balbain’s assessment of Dominus is perfectly correct. Five is the source of potentially the greatest, and in many ways the strangest, power that existence is capable of producing, and Dominus, at this moment in time, is the highest expression of that power. There can be others – and that is why it is of interest to my people! We also have an existential craving!’

  His snout turned menacingly towards Balbain. Eliot thought suddenly of his frightening ability to generate infra-sound.

  ‘You will have no opportunity to satisfy it. Nothing will prevent us from becoming the property of Dominus.’ Balbain’s words throbbed with passion. He was like an animal in heat.

  The two began to circle one another warily. Eliot backed towards the door, afraid of infra-sound. He saw Abrak’s snout open behind his mask.

  Shuddering waves of vibration passed through his body. But, incredibly, in the same second Abrak died. His body was converting, from head down, into sand-coloured dust which streamed across the chamber in a rustling spray. Balbain’s claw-like hand held the presumed source of this phenomenon: a device consisting of a cluster of tubes. When nothing remained of Abrak he put it away in a fold of his garment.

  ‘Fear not,’ he said to Eliot in a conciliatory tone. ‘You have no reason to obstruct me. After I take home the glad tidings, you can return to Solsystem.’

  Eliot did not answer, but merely stood as if paralysed. Balbain gave a brief, apologetic burst of his simulated laughter, seeming to guess what was on Eliot’s mind.

  ‘As for Abrak, reserve your judgement on my action. I have given him what he desired – though to tell the truth he would have preferred the fate of your female, Alanie.’

  ‘Alanie,’ Eliot repeated. ‘How can we be sure she’s dead? It may be keeping her alive. I don’t know why you murdered Abrak, Balbain, but if you want me to help you, then help me to get Alanie back. Then I’ll do anything you ask me.’

  ‘Defy Dominus?’ Balbain looked at him pityingly. ‘Pointless, hopeless, perverted dreams …’

  Suddenly he rushed past Eliot and through the door. Eliot heard his feet clattering on the downward ramp.

  The Earthman sat down and buried his face in his hands.

  A minute or two later he felt impelled to turn on the external view screen to get another look at Dominus. A bizarre sight met his eyes. Balbain, about halfway between Dominus and the ship, had prostrated himself before the great beast and was making small gestures whose meanings were known only to himself. Eliot switched off the screen. A few minutes later, not having heard Balbain return, he looked again. There was no sign of the alien.

  He was not sure how long he then sat there, trying to decide what best next to do, before a noise made him look up. The interstellar expedition’s only other surviving member was entering the chamber.

  Zeed was the least humanoid of all the team. He walked on limbs that could be said to constitute a pair of legs, except that they could also reconstitute themselves into tentacles, or a bunch of sticks, or a number of other devices to accommodate him to locomotion over a variety of different surfaces. Above these limbs a short dumpy body of indeterminate shape was hidden by a thick cloak which also hid his arms. Above this, a head of sorts: speckled golden eyes that did not at first look like eyes, other organs buried within fluted, bony grooves arranged in a symmetrical pattern.

  The voice in which he spoke to Eliot, however, could have passed as human, although no mouth appeared to move.

  ‘Explanations are superfluous,’ he said, moving into the chamber and looking down on Eliot. ‘I have consulted the ship’s log.’

  Eliot nodded. The log, of course, automatically recorded everything that took place within the ship.

  ‘It appears that Balbain could not constrain himself and has forfeited his life,’ Zeed continued. ‘It is not surprising. However, it determines our end, also, since only Abrak and Balbain knew how to pilot the ship.’

  This was news to Eliot, but in his present state the prospect of death caused him little alarm.

  ‘Did you know Balbain’s secret reason for this mission?’ he asked.

  ‘Of course. But it was no secret. Your people, being ignorant of alien races, made a presumption concerning its nature.’ Gliding smoothly on his versatile legs, Zeed moved to the view screen and made a full circle scan of their surroundings. Then he turned back to Eliot. ‘Perhaps it is a disappointment to you.’

  ‘Why did Balbain want any of us along at all?’ Eliot said wearily. ‘Just to make use of us?’

  ‘In a way. But we were all making use of one another. The universe is vast and quite mysterious, Eliot. It is an unfathomable darkness in which creatures arise having no common ground with each other. Hence, if they meet they may not be able to comprehend one another. Here in this ship we act as antennae for one another. We are not so alien to one another that we cannot communicate, yet sufficiently unalike so that each may understand some phenomena we encounter that the others
cannot.’

  ‘So that’s what we are,’ Eliot said resentfully. ‘A star-travelling menagerie.’

  ‘An ark, in which each has a separate quest. Yours is the obsession with acquiring knowledge. We do not share it, but the data you are collecting is your reward for the services you may, at some time, have been able to render one of us. You were enjoying yourselves too much for us to disillusion you concerning ourselves.’

  ‘But how can you not share it?’ Eliot exclaimed. ‘Scientific inquiry is fundamental to intelligence, surely? How else can one ever understand the universe?’

  ‘But others do not want to understand it, Eliot. That is only your own relationship to it; your chief ethological feature, whether you recognise it or not. You would still have joined this expedition, for instance, if it had meant giving up sex for the rest of your life.’

  ‘And yet you have a scientific culture and travel in spaceships.’

  ‘A matter of mere practicality. Pure, abstract science exists only for homo sapiens – I have not encountered it elsewhere. Other races carry out investigations only for the material benefits they bring. As an extreme example, think of Dominus: he, and probably countless of the animals here, possess vastly more of the knowledge you admire than do either of us, yet they have no interest in it and continue to live in a wild condition.’

  Eliot’s thoughts were returning to Alanie and the disinterest all the aliens had shown in her horrifying death. He remembered Balbain’s enigmatic remark. ‘Abrak,’ he said bleakly, ‘what was he seeking?’

  ‘His species craves abnormal death. The cause of it is thuswise: life, however long, must end. Life, then, is conditioned by death. Hence death is larger than life. Abrak’s people are conscious that everything, ultimately, is abnegated by death, and they look for fulfilment only in the manner of their dying. An individual of his species seeks to die in some unusual or noteworthy manner. Suicides receive praise, provided the method is extraordinary. Murderers, likewise, are folk heroes, if their killings show imagination. Ultimately, the whole species strives to be exterminated in some style so extraordinary as to make its existence seem meaningful. Five seemed to offer that promise – not in its present state, it is true, but after suitable evolutionary development, perhaps due to an invasion by Abrak’s people.’