Giant Robots of Tunguska

by Dave Robinson

  The Soviets had ten robots, and perhaps a hundred troops. The Japanese contingent seemed larger, with more infantry along with something else in support. Doc furrowed his brow as he tried to figure out what it was. One robot, perhaps the one that had been in Dairen, and a dozen what? Whatever they were, they were crashing through the broken forest like the robots and running supercharged radial engines.

  Doc had just started trying to figure out what the other Japanese support vehicles were when the barracks door flew open and NKVD troops began pouring in. He turned to resist, but stopped when he saw the glint of bayonets at Ming’s and Tigress’ throats. Doc held his hands out before him as two of the guards grabbed him roughly by the arms and hustled him out the door.

  Outside, the battle was in full swing. Gunfire rattled off to the east, as the Soviet automatons moved up in support of Lyushkov’s troops. High powered searchlights cut through the night, illuminating both the Soviet giants and their Japanese counterparts. The Japanese had one Soviet giant robot with a Rising Sun painted on its chest plate, hiding the original insignia. A dozen spindly-legged machines backed it up, each towering forty feet above the ground. These Japanese machines had round bodies with a hump at each shoulder outlined with the flames of stub exhausts. Doc got one good look at the oncoming forces before he was dragged around the corner and thrown up against a brick wall.

  Doc didn’t need to see the pockmarks in the brick to know what this wall was used for. Eight NKVD men formed a ragged line about twenty feet away from them, with a officer at one end of the line waving a Tokarev. Doc had started figuring angles from the moment the Soviets had thrown them against the wall. On his own, he could easily cover the twenty feet before the firing squad could draw a bead on him, but he couldn't bet anyone else's life on that.

  He had just begun to wonder if maybe he should charge the firing squad when Lyushkov appeared. The heavy-set Commissar strutted to the end of the line and gave the prisoners a hard glare. "I might have let you live another day, but I will not allow the Japanese to take my prisoners from me."

  Lyushkov raised his arm and Doc tensed his muscles, ready to throw himself forward. The faint whistle of a Japanese mortar bomb caught his ear and Doc quickly extrapolated its flight path.

  “Down!” Doc thrust out an arm and crashed to the ground covering Ming and Tigress as Gilly followed his lead.

  Doc kept one eye on the firing squad as he went down, watching Lyushkov and the squad. The man’s arm started to drop, but not faster than the mortar bomb that detonated behind the firing squad. The explosion was surprisingly soft, but quickly drowned out by the screams of NKVD troops as shrapnel ripped through their bodies.

  Before the Soviets could react, Doc helped Tigress to her feet and led the others around the corner of the wall and into the darkness. Behind them, Lyushkov screamed obscenities.

  #

  Fire: heat and flames coursed across her body as Vic plunged into the atmosphere. Everything was failing; her body, her mind, even her memory. Her shields flared against reentry plasma but they weren’t holding. Power levels were critical; but the Race had to survive. Her senses reached out across the barren landscape below, but found nothing. One low speed analog data net, and a few minor power grids were all she could pick up on this side of the planet—a handful of megawatts at most.

  Desperate for a solution, she spread the sensor net wide, looking for anything. Then she saw it, just seconds from her impact point. An electromagnetic source two thousand feet above the taiga. Splitting seconds down toward Planck time she scanned the source—two rows of six spark generators, firing in regular sequence. Narrowing down her sweep pattern she found two more electrical sources: sentient brains. Two members of the dominant species were engaged in reproductive behavior aboard some kind of airship.

  In a bid to preserve the mission, she ejected the seed pod. Designed with all the protective devices the Race could devise, it would be safe no matter how great the impact. Now all that remained was finding her own replacement, a guardian for the Race.

  Drawing on the last of her reserves, Vic assembled a data packet; encoding the Race into the genetic material of the reproducing sentients. This was her survival, this was the Race’s survival. This species had lots of duplicated and unused genetic material, more than enough to store the necessary data. She finished the last burst of information less than a second before the shields let go.

  Her last thought was of victory.

  Vic stirred as her consciousness slowly returned. Her first thought was of her Mother, the Race. She had to save her. Vic’s alien senses returned first; she was lying in an ore cart near the foot of the conveyor leading up to the surface. She had landed on top of a rich lump of ore and drained it almost completely healing her three bullet wounds. They should have killed her; even without being a doctor Vic knew enough about gunshot wounds to know that much. Instead, she had drawn enough from the rock to heal herself completely.

  Vic shook her head, Doc and Gus could worry about that problem later. She had prisoners to save; it was her duty to the Race.

  Piles of ore lay at the foot of the stilled conveyor. Vic swallowed; if the Soviets had stopped the conveyor there wasn’t much time left. Pulling power from the weak ore surrounding the belt, Vic leaped onto it and started climbing. It was like a gangplank at the marina and Vic was able to scamper upward almost as fast as she could run.

  This was her mission; her need.

  It took Vic less than a minute to reach the top, drawing energy from the ore every step of the way. She was already at twice the strength of a human when she got onto the conveyor, but her strength had more than doubled by the time she reached the top. Vic came off the conveyor to see two guards in the ore shed. Without breaking stride, she pounced like a hunting cat and smashed their heads together. Both guards dropped like they were poleaxed.

  No sooner had the guards fallen than Vic was looking for ore. The shed was almost empty, but as with anything done by slave labor the loading job hadn’t been perfect. It only took her a few seconds to build up enough of a reserve for the next step of the job. Once she had drained the remaining ore, Vic slipped out of the shed to scope out the camp.

  She had never had the opportunity to take a good look at the camp before, having spent almost every minute either underground or in the barracks. It wasn’t large, with just a few barracks huts clustered around the mine head. Two robots stood in the center of the parade ground, overlooking a handful of idling trucks. As she watched, a small group of guards made their way out of the mine head. One, two, three…eleven; it was all the guards from below.

  For a moment, the drive to protect the Race warred with the pull of the power cores, freezing Vic in place. The guards made their way over to the nearest of the idling trucks, and hopped in the back. A few moments later, they drove off, leaving two more trucks and the robots. One of the robots turned toward the mine head and took a step. That was enough to break Vic’s paralysis and she charged after the robots as her two drives aligned. Drain the core to protect the Race!

  Accelerating with each step, Vic went to war emergency power—spending energy as fast as her body would let her. She hit fifty miles per hour in the first five steps, and was airborne after another five—leaping toward the robot. Gunshots rang out behind her, one round plowing into her shoulder. Vic automatically diverted energy to tissue repair, while keeping her focus on the robot in front of her. The bullet caused only minor damage, barely enough to activate her pain receptors. Vic hit the robot in the middle of the back, ripping through the outer shell like it was made of cardboard.

  Ten seconds later she was on the ground, draped in wires from the power core’s shielding. The remaining robot had just put a steel foot into the mine head, and was pivoting to face her. Throwing the wires free, she dodged sideways to the nearest watch tower. The robot closed on her scorching the tower’s legs with its flamethrower. Vic leaped for the middle of its chest as the robot kicked out at the burning watch to
wer. A fireball arrowed across the sky, sending a shock of urgency through her consciousness, pulling her to the northeast.

  No! Must save the Race! The thought of the prisoners fought the pull—a woman’s face in the darkness.

  Vic drained the last core and ran for the mine head. The building was barely standing; the donkey engine that ran the lift knocked off its mounts. Ignoring the engine, Vic released the platform brake and started lowering the platform by hand. Her current energy levels were so high that the heavy platform felt like it was made of paper. No sooner had it reached the bottom than Vic leaped down the shaft.

  Back in the familiar darkness, she ran for the tunnel where she had left her mother, ignoring the milling crowd of workers. The faint glow of Tunguskite illuminated the mines to her extra senses, driving her to protect the Race. “Mama!”

  “V-Viktoriya?” A faint voice came back from the tunnel floor. “Is that you child?”

  “Yes, Mama, it’s me,” Vic fought back tears as she replied. “I’ve come to get you out.”

  “I was afraid I’d lost you.” The woman before Vic didn’t look anything like a proper member of the Race but she could feel the biological connection between them that triggered her imperative.

  “You’ll never lose me Mama, I have to protect the Race.” Warmth flowed through Vic’s body at the thought of fulfilling her primary function. The Race must survive and expand at all costs; it was the First Law.

  “The race?” Ekaterina asked, clearly unfamiliar with the term.

  Vic ignored the irrelevant question, and helped Ekaterina to her feet. “Let’s get everyone out.”

  Ekaterina nodded and started moving towards the main chamber. “How are you going to get us out?”

  “Just get everyone on the platform.” Vic grinned. “I can do the rest.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.”

  Ekaterina didn’t look convinced, but she nodded gamely and followed Vic into the main chamber. Most of the prisoners were standing in small groups; they weren’t talking, just standing still and looking at the floor. They shook their heads as Ekaterina approached. It took more time than Vic was comfortable with, but they finally got everyone crowded onto the platform.

  “Hang on.”

  Vic made a clear spot in the middle of the platform, bent at the knee and leaped two hundred feet straight up. Catching the axle at the top, she swung once and made a perfect dismount. With the donkey engine useless, Vic hooked one foot around the nearest engine mount and started pulling on the cable. She had so much energy that even without being able to apply her full strength Vic was still able to pull the platform up to the top of the shaft in less than a minute.

  Once it reached the top, she locked the cable brake and started ushering people off and towards the camp. They didn’t look or feel right, but she still felt the connection to Ekaterina. Shaking her head, she pushed the donkey engine aside and got a good look at the camp.

  Everything was in ruins, from the guard towers to the barracks. The only thing still standing was a single ZIS-5 truck idling in what used to be the parade ground. The last remaining guards were gathered around the vehicle when Vic broke through the doorway and she reacted without thinking. They were armed; they threatened the Race.

  Moments later, they were dead.

  With the immediate threat defeated, Vic took a moment to collect her thoughts. Her energy reserves were high, and there was no threat to the Race in sight. Watching the former prisoners cross the compound toward the truck, she was struck by the wrongness. They were not the Race, they were too large with too many limbs. Yes, the one held a genetic connection, but everything else was wrong.

  Alarms screamed through her head; protect the Race, protect the Race!

  Distraught, Vic started pacing, casting her head back and forth as she sought a sign to show her the next step. Her reserves were high, but this body could only sustain itself for a short time. Too much energy was needed to repair the damage it caused. She must preserve herself to protect the Race.

  Throwing her head back she howled her despair. This world was wrong!

  Another fireball flashed across the sky, this one bringing a hint of the Race in its spectrum. Vic lunged towards it, leaping skyward. The trail of flame led backwards to another, larger camp with a familiar shape at its center.

  Vic hit the ground running, smashing through the broken gates and down the rough-cut road toward the other compound. She had found the seed pod, the Race would survive. As her senses extended throughout the darkness, she noticed the ZIS-5 following her. It was no threat to the Race, so she let it go.

  #

  Doc led the others around the corner and into the darkness of the Siberian night. Gunfire shook the night, illuminating the camp with flashes of brilliance. Russian searchlights exploded as Japanese guns found them, while star shells covered the field in harsh magnesium light. The Soviets were fighting bravely, but the Japanese had the advantage of both numbers and training. Only the raw power of the Soviet robots gave the defenders anything resembling an even chance.

  Keeping low, Doc noticed an earthen berm about fifty yards away. None of the Soviets seemed to have taken cover behind it, so he led the group towards it. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Gilly was bringing up the rear while Ming helped her mother across the broken ground. One thing about Siberian Octobers was that there was no mud to worry about, though it did mean that anyone who hit the ground fell hard. Most of the gunfire was about a hundred yards off to the south, so the berm gave him a great view of the conflict.

  Two of the Japanese robots grappled with one Soviet machine, looking like nothing so much as scarab beetles squabbling over a particularly rich ball of dung. The Soviet robot was more powerful than its tormentors, but its movements weren’t as smooth.

  “Go for the tent!” Colonel Senda’s amplified voice echoed over the battlefield. His robot was everywhere on the battlefield, moving up and down the lines in support of the attack.

  Three Japanese robots formed a V and rushed the Soviet lines, their engines howling against the darkness. Japanese troops popped up from their firing pits and started laying down a withering fire against the Soviet defenders. One unoccupied Soviet robot moved to meet them, but a series of mortar bombs landing at its feet forced the pilot into an off-balance dance.

  If it hadn’t been for the sounds and smoke of battle, the harsh lighting would have made Doc feel like he was back home on the Moon.

  Two more Japanese robots broke through the Soviet lines and drove for the lone defender. Its own pilot caught his balance and turned toward them, but was too late. Just before impact, one of the Japanese machines dropped low and swept out its right leg at the Soviet machine’s knee joint. Somehow its gyros held the Japanese machine upright, but the Soviet fighter was not so lucky. That machine tottered, stumbled, and then tumbled to the icy ground.

  That gave the original trio room to move and they took full advantage of that. Sweeping Soviet defenders aside like so many mosquitoes, the attacking robots charged the tent, stepping over the berm that shielded it as if it wasn’t there. Seconds later the first attacker reached the barrier and ripped it aside.

  Doc’s mouth dropped open.

  The biconic shape of a Tralthan seed pod was unmistakable.

  Even as everyone turned toward the exposed capsule Doc barked a question at Tigress. “How good a radio does your flying wing have?”

  Would a kinetic strike be enough? What about thermonuclear—maybe antimatter? Too slow, the only chance was either directed energy or a cee-fractional strike. Forget secrecy, even an Archonate listening post wouldn’t be safe if the Tralthans got a foothold. Not for the first time, he wished he’d brought a fivespace communicator to Earth.

  “I don’t know? Mostly we just listened for Dutch radio traffic.” Tigress shrugged.

  Doc ground his teeth. It wasn’t going to be enough. At least now he knew where the technology behind those generators came from. It wa
sn’t a comfort. The Tralthans had been one of the biggest threats in the galaxy for millions of years, with new seedships showing up every few dozen millennia. Individually, they were barely sentient, but their hive minds deployed formidable AIs which they used to orchestrate the destruction of entire solar systems to launch the next generation of seedships.

  The only chance was to overload the seed pod’s power core. If he could force a meltdown, he could destroy the seed banks before they could activate.

  “Tigress, you have to get Ming and Gilly to the flying wing. Take off and head for China. You have to get as far away as you can.”

  “I’m not leaving without Vic!” Ming’s tear-streaked face shone in the star-shell’s light.

  “There’s no time.” Doc grabbed her by the shoulders. “If you don’t get out of here you are all dead. Do you really think she would want you to sacrifice yourself?”

  “Why don’t you ask her yourself?” Ming pulled one arm loose and pointed towards the camp gate.

  Doc followed Ming’s arm with his eyes to see Vic come through the gate at almost a hundred miles an hour, her hair streaming behind her like a rocket exhaust. Two robots, one from each army, moved to meet her but she left them demolished in her wake—ripping the power core from the Soviet machine in passing.

  “See?” Ming cried. “She made it.”

  Doc swallowed, he did see, but he was sure it wasn’t what Ming meant. Vic had made it, but only in body. Now that he saw her in action it was clear: she was under the control of a Tralthan Guardian AI. He didn’t just have to force a meltdown of the seed pod’s power core; he was also going to have to kill one of his best friends. One of his best friends, who had just ripped a fifty-foot-tall fighting machine apart with her bare hands in less than ten seconds.

  #

  More energy, just what she needed, Vic thought as she ripped apart two robots without breaking stride. She punched through the chest of the right one only to find a tank full of aviation fuel. Her left hand target was better, with a barely depleted power core. Vic took a full second to drain the core, repairing her body as she smashed flesh and blood through iron and steel. Permafrost steamed wherever she stepped, as she dumped waste heat from the overdriven repair processes of this clumsy body.