Titan-Major Brourne knew already that he’d committed a tactical error when he moved his HQ from the cramped accommodation at the dockside to his present palatial quarters near the centre of the city.
At the time it had seemed reasonable. The city had been taken. He needed an administrative centre, and the dock just wouldn’t do.
But now, up through the bottleneck from the Production Retort which all his scouts had assured him was empty, had come a huge army, well-prepared and well-disciplined. Brourne still only had an inkling of where this army had really come from, but in any case explanations, at this stage, were very low down on his list of priorities.
When it first became clear that the threat was serious he’d given thought to the route back to the dock, to a withdrawal to the ships floating outside the city if necessary. With deep chagrin he learned that the dock was one of the first points to be seized by the enemy. His forces were still trying to retake it.
Elsewhere the story was one of repeated disaster. The invasion force was overwhelming, and none of the measures he’d taken to retain military control seemed effective. The Chinks were able to flit in and out of existence like shadows, by means of some device they possessed, apparently, and so were able to infiltrate all his fixed defences. They carried only light arms and knives, but more often than not fought using an unarmed combat technique that was as deadly as anything he’d come across.
His ire rising, Brourne listened to the distressing tale of section after section of the city falling, of the enemy appearing simultaneously everywhere, that the battle reports told. He slammed down the key that opened the line to all district commanders. For some minutes now they’d been requesting instructions.
“Kill everything that moves!” he roared. “Have you got that? Everything that moves!”
“Haven’t I met you somewhere?” Leard Ascar asked, squinting quizzically at the white man wearing the uniform of the Lower Retort invaders.
“Sobrie Oblomot.” The other smiled. “We met twice, a few days ago. For you it was a few days ago, that is; for me it was more than a year.”
“Oh yes, that’s right,” Ascar muttered. “You came in on the ship from Earth, in Rond Heshke’s place. Forgive me, I’ve a poor memory for faces.” He waved a hand negligently. “So the Titans haven’t had it all their own way?”
Sobrie allowed himself a look of quiet triumph. “They don’t know what’s hit them. You know the secret of the Lower Retort’s success, of course – that it can always take as much time as it needs to work on something, even when results are required in minutes. We only spent a year in organising our onslaught, but we could have taken twenty-five years if need be.”
“Yes, I thought there would be something like that,” Ascar said. “I’m surprised the Titans let you pull off such a stunt.”
“They had no opportunity to stop us. Do you remember a young man by the name of Hueh Su-Mueng? The Titans brought him with them, back from Earth. They’d have done better to leave him behind: he switched off the time tunnel between the two retorts, denying the Titans access to it, in its normative time, at least. I expect they could have found their way into it with the new ships they have, but we were upon them before they fully realised what was going on. In Leisure Retort time, Su-Mueng and myself were back within an hour of leaving – with a fully-equipped and trained army!”
Ascar grunted. “Somebody on Limnich’s staff goofed. Not that it matters.” He stretched. He’d been separated from the Titan prisoners and put in more luxurious surroundings reserved, he guessed, for detainees of more exalted rank. Oblomot’s visit, however, had been a surprise.
“I remember you now,” he said. “You’re some kind of revolutionary nut, aren’t you? A dev-lover. Yes, that’s right.”
“Say what you like. I’m not alone: Su-Mueng is a revolutionary too. Things are going to change around here.”
“If you’re expecting the Production Retort workers to toe some kind of rebellion line, forget it,” Ascar told him. “People know how to arrange society in this ISS. It’s orderly.”
“Well, we’ll see. Su-Mueng is an extraordinary person in some ways. It’s really impressive the way he was able to get things organised in the Lower Retort. And we’ve saved Retort City!” Boastfulness crept into Sobrie’s voice.
“They respond naturally to being organised down there,” Ascar retorted. “It doesn’t mean a damn thing.” He yawned. He felt tired. “So you’ve saved Retort City, have you? Well, bend a knee to me, friend. You’re looking at the man who’s saved the planet Earth!”
“You…?” began Sobrie wonderingly, but he was interrupted by a call from outside the apartment.
Hueh Su-Mueng entered. He glanced disdainfully at Ascar, then turned to Sobrie.
“All goes well. The retort is ours, apart from a few pockets of resistance. Also, we’ve found out where the Earthmen were holding the Leisure Retort cabinet. They should be arriving here soon!”
“Good!” said Ascar vigorously. “Since this little fiasco is finished, I take it my master Shiu Kung-Chien can now return to his observatory and attend matters of greater import. And if you don’t mind, I’d like to join him.”
“Oh yes, I recognise you,” Su-Mueng said. “You’re the man who preferred to devote himself to abstract things, rather than try to help his own people. Go on your way, by all means. We have no use for you here.” There was a new hardness in the young man, Ascar noted. The past year had changed him.
“Wait!” Sobrie interjected. “What was that you were saying just now – about Earth?”
Ascar put on a stubborn face and folded his arms. “I want to see Shiu Kung-Chien.”
“I see what’s in your mind,” Su-Mueng said after a moment. “You’re afraid that I’ll execute all the cabinet ministers, including your beloved master. Don’t worry, that’s for the people to decide, not me. Perhaps he’ll be put to work in a factory, to discover what it’s like.”
He gave the word to Sobrie, who went out and returned a few minutes later with Shiu. The aged scientist murmured a perfunctory greeting as he entered the room, then spoke to Ascar.
“Was there time to complete the operation?” he asked.
“Just about,” said Ascar. “I visited the Oblique Entity, anyway.”
“And did you learn anything encouraging?”
“It depends which way you look at it – but yes, you could say I did.”
He turned to Sobrie. “You’re an Earthman, I suppose, so I’ll try to explain. You see, my efforts haven’t been quite as devoid of practical motive as might be imagined. Several light-years from here there exists an… intelligence, an entity that has been known to Retort City for some time. It’s called the Oblique Entity, because it exists obliquely in time. Our object – mine and Shiu’s – has been to establish a good enough communication with this entity for an exchange of practical knowledge. Its understanding of the time process is much more profound than ours; consequently I was anxious to find out if it could help us, if there was any way available to science of controlling the onrush of time-systems so as to avert the impending collision on Earth.”
“I… think I see,” Sobrie said in a subdued tone. He felt slightly ashamed of having misjudged Ascar, whom hitherto he’d taken to be little more than a dropout.
Ascar looked at Shiu before continuing. “To my surprise, sir, the Entity already knew about Earth. It makes a hobby, apparently, of watching planets where life exists. I was even more staggered to hear it admit that it has the power, if it chooses, to prevent the cataclysm there. It’s able to exert an influence over the direction of time, even upon so massive a system as Earth’s and even at so great a distance. Don’t ask me how. But it did make it quite clear to me that this power is something human beings will never learn to control.”