Giant Robots of Tunguska

by Dave Robinson

  #

  Doc meditated quietly in the corner of the room. He was sitting on a hard bench in a disused barracks, with Gilly taking up the other end. Ming and her mother were curled up against the far wall, sleeping. Their capture at the end of the flight had been somewhat anti-climactic. Someone had seen the lights of the flying wing, and sent a detachment to round them up. Their captors had asked a few questions, thrown bags on their heads, and then led them here. Neither woman spoke Russian unless you counted the smattering of endearments Vic used for Ming. Gilly claimed to speak Russian, but from the faces Vic made when he tried he wasn’t any better with Russian than she was with Japanese.

  There was one guard just inside the door, a dour individual with a Central Asian look about him. There might be more outside, but lack of sleep and the wind outside made it almost impossible for Doc to scan the camp. He could have scanned the barracks, but it was one room barely heated by an iron stove in the corner. At least they had the clothes taken from the wing.

  They had been sitting there for most of the day before anything significant happened.

  Somebody rapped on the door, and stepped into the barracks. It was a Red Army officer, a senior lieutenant with a three pointed crown on his cap badge right above the hammer and sickle. Two more guards followed him in, more Central Asians. The officer surveyed the room and then pointed at Doc.

  “You will come with me.”

  Doc rose, looking down on his captor from his full six-foot four-inch height. The man didn’t blink, he just turned and led the way out of the barracks. The two new guards fell in behind him, rifles at the ready. With one last glance around the barracks room, Doc followed the officer out the door.

  They were in a large open compound, like a prison camp that had been turned into a command post. A dozen giant robots lined the parade ground like statues of ancient war gods. There weren’t many troops around; most of the few he saw were in front of a large tent at least two hundred feet on a side set up behind a protective berm. The ground was already frozen, but he could tell it had once been a bog. Outside the fences dead trees ringed the compound, all pointing outward as if trying to get away.

  Doc quirked a small smile. If he was right, that tent was directly under the epicenter of the 1908 Tunguska event. But how was that connected to Vic? She hadn’t even been born then. He was missing something; Doc just didn’t know what it was.

  He let the idea percolate as he continued to follow the officer toward a large building in the middle of the compound. Despite the cold, there were thinly clothed figures digging in the frozen dirt surrounding the building; though for the life of him, Doc couldn’t figure out why anyone would be gardening in a Siberian October. It was just another anomaly to put on the back burner.

  The guards waved them through, and Doc soon found himself in a very warm anteroom. The usual picture of Stalin was missing, replaced by one of a round-faced man with a shock of black hair over a small curved mustache. Apart from the one portrait, the room was conspicuously bare, with nothing else but a six-day calendar to break the monotony. The glaring absence was any kind of clock; although there was a place where an upright clock had clearly been removed.

  After what Doc’s internal clock said was forty-seven minutes, a voice called from the back room. “Bring him in.”

  One of his guards shoved him in the back, pushing him toward the door. It opened a moment before he reached it, and he walked into a large office. The man from the portrait sat at a large desk, his attention focused on the papers in front of him. Short and husky, he wore the uniform of an NKVD Commissar for State Security, with the three-pointed crown added to the shoulder boards. The papers referred to the need to redeploy mechanical troops to the Mongolian front to replace losses against the Japanese.

  Doc and his guards stood there for seven minutes before the man finally looked up from his work.

  “So even the mighty Doc Vandal is drawn to the Siberian Soviet Empire.” The Commissar gestured around the office and then walked over to a nearby samovar. He poured himself some tea; not offering Doc any. He lit a cigarette, and then walked back to his desk.

  “I suppose this is where you expect me to explain what I plan so that you can foment an insurrection. Sadly, you will never know, nor will you be alive to see it. You will simply die knowing that Genrikh Lyushkov proved your better.”

  Lyushkov sipped his tea. “Perhaps I shall pique your curiosity.

  “Had the Tsars only known what they had here at Tunguska, neither Lenin nor Stalin would have had a chance. Now the Japanese will feel the might of Lyushkov’s heel.”

  The Commissar put down his tea and returned to his desk. He wrote for a minute or two and then looked up to the senior lieutenant who had brought Doc in. “You may return him to the barracks. I’ll have their executions scheduled later.”

  The officer saluted his superior, nodded to his troops, and then issued a brief command in Tatar. Doc’s guards moved behind him and ushered him out through the anteroom into the cold afternoon. A gust of wind caught the side of the tent across the compound, opening a small gap for a moment. Doc couldn’t get a good look as his guards hustled him along, but from what he could see there was something metallic behind the fabric.

  The only thing that made sense was something extra-terrestrial. The question was what? Not for the first time, Doc wished his knowledge of the galaxy was something less than a hundred million years out of date. The only thing he could count on was that it wasn’t the Archonate: at least not the Forty-third Archonate. Even if it had been out of direct observation, there was no distress beacon.

  The AI had simply categorized it as an atmospheric bolide and added it to his lessons. Now, it seemed that the AI had been wrong. One of the guards thumped him in the back, and Doc continued toward the barracks.

  #

  Vic stayed quiet all the way back through the cold to the barracks. Both guards and prisoners had a routine here and she didn’t want to disturb it until she had a plan. For once in her life, she couldn’t just charge forward and take on all comers. At that thought she ground her teeth, loudly enough for her mother to raise a questioning eyebrow. Doc was the planner, not her.

  It wasn’t until the two women were squeezed into their shared bed that Ekaterina spoke.

  “All right, Viktoriya; I know that look on your face. Tell me what’s going on.”

  Vic took a deep breath and decided there was no reason to soften it. “Next time we go down the hole we aren’t coming up. They’re going to close the mine head with some of those robots."

  “So they’ve decided, then.” Ekaterina’s voice was level, showing no signs of tension. “I was wondering how much longer this would last.”

  “It doesn’t bother you?”

  “It bothers me that you’ll die with me; it doesn’t bother me that I’ll die warm and with my daughter to ease my passing.” Ekaterina sighed. “I made my peace with my death sentence many years ago.”

  “Well, I didn’t,” Vic muttered.

  “They don’t know you’re here,” Ekaterina suggested. “Maybe you could hide in the morning; it’s not much but you might have a chance.”

  “No, I have to go down or you’re all dead.” Vic squared her shoulders. She hadn’t done much since dinner but she could already feel her strength fading. She was still stronger than most people, probably stronger than Gilly, but not as strong as when she came up the platform.

  “Are you crazy?” Ekaterina rolled around and grasped Vic’s shoulders. “You’re young, you don’t have to die.”

  “I don’t plan on dying.” Vic tried to comfort her mother. “If I have a chance I won’t let anyone die.”

  “If they’re bringing in those robots you won’t have a choice, child.” Ekaterina shook her head sadly. “You’ve probably never seen them, but they would kill the lot of us in moments.”

  “These robots?” Vic asked. “Are they about fifty feet tall with a hammer, sickle, and crown on the chest? Flamethrowers
?”

  Ekaterina nodded. “Yes, those are the ones. Have you seen them?”

  “Seen them?” Vic grinned. “I’ve ripped two of them apart with my bare hands.”

  “Viktoriya Ekaterina Yelizaveta Maria Frankova,” Ekaterina hissed, using all three of Vic’s middle names. “Who taught you to lie to your mother like that?”

  “I’m not lying,” Vic protested. “Remember when I said I’m not human? A little of the ore makes me a little stronger. A lot makes me a lot stronger. Those robots have a lot inside them.

  “I had the energy from three of those robots; it was enough for me to run here overnight from Dalny.”

  “That’s over twenty-five hundred verst,” Ekaterina sounded incredulous.

  “I know; I ran every yard of it.” Vic paused and took a deep breath.

  “Mama, I know something must have happened before I was born. What was it?”

  It was Ekaterina’s turn for a pause and deep breath; so Vic waited as patiently as she could.

  “Well, Viktoriya, this happened.” Ekaterina looked around the barracks. “As near as I can tell, you were conceived about five thousand feet from where we are now: straight up. Your father and I were on our honeymoon: flying to Vladivostok in the first airship built in Russia. We were consummating our marriage when something flashed through the sky and exploded.

  “Nine months later, you were born. We never had another child no matter how much we tried.”

  “Well, whatever happened, I’m not like anyone else.” Vic leaned forward and kissed her mother on the forehead, unconsciously taking the parental role. “I love you, Mama, and we’ll get out of here tomorrow.”

  “If you say so,” Ekaterina whispered. She sighed once more and fell asleep.

  Vic lay awake for a long time.

  #

  Vic woke with a start, not sure where she was. A soft snore from the figure in front of her triggered her memory and it all rushed back to her. The gulag, the mine, the Soviet plan to bury them alive. Could she get everyone out? If she found enough ore she could beat the guards, that wasn’t the problem. The hard part was going to be holding it all together long enough to get every last prisoner up.

  Vic stretched and the woman in front of her stopped snoring.

  “Viktoriya?”

  “It’s alright, Mama, I’m just thinking.”

  “Are you sure? You don’t have to go down there.” Ekaterina rolled to face Vic.

  “Yes I do, or nobody will come up.” Vic clenched her fists in the darkness.

  Ekaterina didn’t say anything, she just reached out and hugged Vic. The two women laid there together until the guard came to rouse them.

  Even though Vic hadn't mentioned anything to anyone but her mother, the entire population seemed to know something was up. There were no protests, no arguments, just an air of defeatism layered on top of the existing base of fatalism. In a matter of minutes, the women were formed into a shuffling line and the barracks was emptying for the last time.

  Once again the ride down on the platform was a descent into Hell. This time Vic spent the trip down looking up, watching how the platform worked. At least this time she had enough Tunguskite in her system to get a good look at everything, even without superhuman strength. Chains from the four corners rose up through iron pipes and then met at a heavy cable in the center. The cable ran up and around a large drum powered by a chain drive on one end. Rattles and creaks told her the Soviets had stopped paying attention to maintenance a while ago. Only the fact everything was overbuilt let it keep going.

  When the platform stopped, Vic ducked down and managed to walk into the mine without smashing her head. There were fewer guards down here today, and they huddled around the platform, prodding the women onwards with their bayonets. Just like yesterday Vic followed her mother down a short tunnel, but this time Ekaterina only moved far enough to get out of sight of the guards and then sat down.

  "So daughter, what's your plan?"

  "First, I need to find every last ounce of ore that's left in this mine; the more I can find the better off we are."

  "There's not much left on this level," Ekaterina muttered. "Most of it goes up the conveyor."

  "Conveyor?” That caught Vic’s attention. More ore, and possibly another way up. “Where's that?"

  “Just follow the tracks, about a hundred yards or so. It should be easy enough.”

  “Whaat about the guards? The conveyor’s a possible way out.”

  “They haven’t been bothering with much lately,” Ekaterina said. “They’re just putting in time.”

  After a few minutes, the miners went to work, just like any other day. So it seemed to Vic, anyway. Ekaterina looked tired, so Vic took off her jacket and draped it over her.

  "Stay here Mama, I'm going to find some ore and come back for you."

  Ekaterina nodded, but Vic could see her strength was fading.

  "Promise me you won't give up, Mama," Vic pleaded, "Promise me."

  "I promise." Ekaterina smiled wanly. "I was supposed to take care of you..."

  "You can spoil me when we get home to New York."

  "Home...I'd like that..." Ekaterina leaned back against the side of the tunnel.

  Vic leaned over and gave Ekaterina a kiss on the forehead. "I love you, Mama."

  Vic swallowed hard, and headed back out into the darkness. There was Tunguskite all around her, fine traceries laced through the rock; she gathered strength every time she laid a hand on the tunnel wall. It was a weird feeling, drawing just a little energy with each step. She didn't get the adrenaline rush that she'd had before, but her head stayed clear.

  As her strength grew, so did her perceptions. Vic drew a map in her head, filling it with images of guards and workers. There were twenty-eight prisoners down here, and eleven guards. The platform held no more than twenty at a time, so that meant at least two trips without counting the guards. Vic wasn’t worried about getting the guards up, but they did add complications.

  The tunnel she was in was low and narrow, forcing her to stoop as she walked. Pick marks scarred the wall, leaving patterns reflecting the original deposits. As she followed the tunnel deeper into the mine the patterns began working themselves into her brain, forming familiar shapes and pictures that she couldn’t recognize. There was no track down this tunnel, it was too small, but somehow she knew it doubled back to meet the tracks about a hundred feet from the conveyor.

  Only a few carts were rattling along the track, full of low grade ore; more evidence if she needed it that the mine was playing out. Taking full advantage of her newly acquired perceptions, Vic worked her way along the tunnel until she reached the exit. There were a couple of guards in view, but Vic didn’t think they’d be any trouble. All she needed to do was stick to the shadows and she would be fine.

  Another cart approached, somehow this one held a big chunk of rich ore. The feeling started at the back of her tongue, she could feel it tingling. More ore meant more Tunguskite; more strength. Unable to hold herself back, Vic lunged for the cart.

  Gunfire echoed through the tunnels as three rounds hammered into her back, sending everything cascading into blackness. Her last conscious thought was “Mama.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Ascension

  As usual, Doc woke at dawn and immediately began his exercises. His routine took half an hour and completely exercised both body and mind. It had been specifically tailored for his unique physiology by the Archonate AI that raised him and was considerably more effective than even a six-hour conventional workout. He had developed similar plans for the rest of the team, though they were considerably less effective than his own. Gilly had proven the best student, while Vic was the worst. She took to the exercises themselves beautifully, but until Ming had come on the scene getting her to do them regularly had been impossible.

  The others began their exercises, with Tigress following Ming’s lead, just as Doc was finishing his own. Looking back at the previous night, it had been a
clear lesson that Lyushkov really didn’t think much of his prisoners. They had been fed, a thin gruel that even Doc found barely palatable, but beyond that left completely to their own devices.

  Doc had spent most of the afternoon and evening looking out through the shuttered windows, trying to learn as much as he could about the camp. It hadn’t been much. The guard wouldn’t let him look towards the center of the compound, so he spent a fair bit of time looking at dead trees. Despite the limitations, Doc had been able to figure out quite a bit more about the situation than Lyushkov might have expected he would.

  For all the man’s arrogance, he was betting it all on whatever was inside the tent. Yes, he had the giant robots, but they were more psychological weapons than battlefield difference makers. Lyushkov had troops, but two or three divisions of NKVD were less of a threat on the battlefield than the numbers might suggest. Doc took another look out between the shutters and shook his head. It was going to be a long day.

  By the time night had fallen, that prediction had proved prophetic. Their captors had provided two meals and changed the guard twice but that was it. Doc had retreated into his own thoughts and for the most part it appeared the others had done the same. Gilly had simply found a piece of bench and laid down. Ming and Tigress had spent the day talking in low voices. The closest thing to excitement had come at around three o’clock when what sounded like two of the giant robots had powered up and marched out of the compound.

  The sun was setting when the sound of gunfire began drifting across the compound. First the heavy bark of the Soviet Moisins, then the lighter crack of Japanese Arisakas. For a moment Doc wondered how the Japanese could have got infantry this far so fast before the whiff of cordite brought his attention back to the present. More noises from outside the barracks told him that the remaining giant robots had moved to engage the attackers. Doc cocked his head, trying to form a picture from the sounds. Not daring to drop into a full trance he focused on the broad strokes, each gunshot acting like a flash as he built up a picture of the battle.