Blood and Iron p-2

by Tony Ballantyne

  She had covered barely one hundred yards when a proximity signal rang out from the craft. The animals’ heads jerked in Kavan’s direction at the same time as Calor sprang forward, releasing stored current through her electromuscles at an incredible rate. She tore forwards, a sandy silver flashing pattern of light, her arms and legs pumping away as she closed the distance.

  The humans froze, they stumbled towards their craft, hesitated, returned to the crate, then ran back into the craft. All the time Calor was closing the distance. The humans were inside now, the pitch of the engine increased.

  Calor was still too far off, Kavan saw the dust whirling in a pool as the rotors’ speed increased, he saw the black turret at the front of the craft swivel towards the Scout. The craft began to lift, and a line of explosions travelled towards Calor. She easily sidestepped the jumping path that cut across the plain, giving that last desperate burst of speed as the craft lifted higher; she jumped, claws extended

  She plunged the blades deep into the side of the machine.

  Kavan realized he had just been standing, watching. He remembered his own role and began to run towards the craft himself. The line of explosions turned and began to pick its way across the plain, heading in his direction. Closer it came, and he prepared himself to jump to the side, just as he had seen Calor do, but the line suddenly swung off erratically. The craft was spinning wildly across the sky.

  Calor had made it inside.

  The luminous green craft twisted this way and that, headed downwards, pulled up at the last moment, lost height again, and dived into the ground, ploughing a furrow of sand. The great blades on the top touched the earth, and Kavan ducked as they tore themselves apart in a reckless fury of metal. Fragments of the blades flew across the plain, tearing more grooves in the sand.

  Smoke emerged from the stricken ship. Kavan was running towards it again, going to the aid of Calor. If she had survived.

  His muscles hummed as he loped forward, watching for movement from within. Yellow flames slowly slid their way down the rear of the craft.

  Nothing. No! A jagged hole was torn open in the front of the craft and something emerged. Something blackened and twisted. Kavan caught a glimpse of silver and realized it was Calor. She fell to the ground, struggled to get up again.

  Her body was burned and twisted, the left side of her chest riddled with bullet holes.

  ‘Get away, Kavan,’ she said. ‘That thing is full of petrol.’

  Kavan thrust a shoulder beneath her arm, and half walked, half carried her away from the craft.

  ‘It might explode,’ she said.

  ‘You’re too valuable,’ said Kavan.

  ‘Now I know I’m mad,’ said Calor. ‘Metal must be twisted out of true. I just heard Kavan say that I was too valuable. I’m nothing but metal.’

  ‘At the moment you’re one of the few robots who know about human craft,’ said Kavan. ‘You’re more valuable than mere metal for the next few days at least.’

  The noise of the flames behind them died away. They turned to see white foam oozing from all the cracks in the stricken craft, saw it smothering the flames.

  ‘Clever,’ said Kavan. ‘Very clever.’

  ‘Not if you’re stuck inside the craft with it. Not if you need to burn oxygen to make energy like the animals do.’

  ‘It looks safe to go in now,’ said Kavan.

  ‘How long do you think we have?’

  ‘Half an hour at most.’

  Kavan raised a hand. A mile away on the plain, the sand and grit began to stir. Ada emerged from the ground, followed by three other blue-panelled robots. They hurried towards the craft.

  While the engineers got to work on the craft, Kavan helped Calor strip away the damaged panelling from her chest. They both worked on the mechanism inside.

  ‘You keep yourself in good repair,’ said Kavan, approvingly.

  ‘Thank you. I wish I had some oil.’

  ‘Here,’ said Kavan, producing a small canister. ‘I’ll do it.’ He squeezed a couple of drops onto the mechanism in her chest, and the part that had been scorched by flames resumed its regular motion.

  ‘You know they will send other craft to destroy that one? They don’t want us finding out their secrets.’

  ‘You said we had half an hour.’

  ‘They may come sooner.’

  ‘Then we’ll run.’

  Time passed as the pair of them worked on, the engineers busy nearby.

  ‘You’ll be okay, I think,’ said Kavan finally, looking at the streaks the acid had burned into the chest panelling they had carefully slid back into place.

  ‘I’ll be fine. It’s only metal.’

  ‘I know that.’

  Ada appeared at his side.

  ‘Kavan, we’re ready to go.’

  The other engineers were moving away from the stricken craft, carrying various parts they had salvaged from the machine. Two long cylinders, about half the height of a robot; a metal canister that sloshed with liquid, two thick cables emerging from one end; several smaller pieces of equipment. The engineers held them carefully, reverently. All of the pieces had that overly complicated design of human machinery, too many wires, too many parts.

  ‘Come on,’ said Kavan. ‘Back beneath the ground.’

  ‘Too late!’ called Calor, looking up into the distance.

  Kavan followed her gaze. He couldn’t see anything yet, but he wasn’t a Scout. ‘Should we run?’ he asked.

  As soon as he said it he saw a straight line, ruled across the sky, foreshortening. No noise. It was travelling faster than-

  The missile hit the human craft with less noise than he had expected. More of a crack than a bang. Kavan realized that Ada was still standing, watching what was going on.

  ‘They use depleted uranium for the shell tips. I know that. I think there is a magnesium charge inside, but there is something else there as well, I’m sure. Look how it burns!’

  The craft was already glowing white hot, the metal collapsing in on itself. She took a step towards it. Kavan pulled her back by the arm.

  ‘Look out, Ada!’

  Two lines of jumping sand ran towards them. Ada watched them approach, then stepped out of their way, quite unconcerned.

  ‘They have too little control at that distance,’ she explained. ‘You can tell by the spacing between the bullet impacts.’

  ‘Ada, you mad Tok, get down.’

  ‘They won’t come closer,’ said Ada. ‘They’ll be worried we’ll bring them down too, just like we did the first craft.’

  Kavan got to his feet, wondering at what was happening here. It wasn’t like him to shelter whilst others walked around calmly. Two more lines of bullets tore across the sand, and the blue robots stepped around them once more. Behind Kavan the burning craft was collapsing into a molten pool, fusing the sand around itself. Thin smoke rose into the bright day.

  ‘What did you find?’ asked Kavan. The bullets were curving around again, coming back towards them, then suddenly, they just stopped.

  ‘It’s hard to say,’ said Ada. ‘The mechanisms make sense, up to a point, but there are parts missing, or parts that shouldn’t function as they do. I’m certain it’s all down to this.’

  She held out a flat square object. Fine gold wires were arranged in patterns around the side.

  ‘I think it’s the human equivalent of a mind. A metal mind, I mean, a robot mind. It’s made of stone and metal.’

  ‘It’s like a mirror on the top.’

  ‘If you look at it under a lens you can see incredibly complicated patterns there. Finer than a woman could weave, more complex than a man could make.’

  Kavan turned the object this way and that.

  ‘We can copy most parts of the human craft, but without a suitable mind, I don’t think we can make it fly.’

  Calor had little interest for the alien machinery. She was built to run and fight and look into the distance. She was doing so now.

  ‘Kavan,’ she sa
id. ‘Something’s coming.’

  Kavan saw it too. A dark craft with wide wings, two large engines mounted at the tail. It moved slowly but deliberately, flying low over the surface of the plain.

  ‘What do we do?’ asked Calor.

  ‘I’d like to try something,’ said Ada. ‘Would you mind?’

  Kavan looked on as two of the engineers stepped forward. Things were changing so quickly. For years he had barely paid the blue robots any attention. The engineers had always arrived after the main attack. But now, with the arrival of the humans, they were taking on a new role, stepping forward and taking the lead whilst he and his robots stood and watched. Just like now. Two of the engineers were handling one of the cylinders they had retrieved from the stricken craft, pointing it towards the approaching aeroplane. Kavan could see the animal in the clear glass cockpit at the front of the craft, he heard the whistling of the two engines, saw the dark holes of the guns as the front of the craft turned to face him, heard the rippling smack and crack as bullets stitched a line towards him.

  ‘Ada, are you sure about this…’

  Then there was a snap, a flare, and a whoosh of flame. A missile crowning a line of light, it travelled from the cylinder the two robots were aiming and connected with the craft just below the cockpit. The glass bubble filled with orange-yellow flame; there was an explosion all along the fuselage. The wings of the craft folded down and the whole thing fell to the ground, skidding towards them.

  ‘Well done, Ada,’ said Kavan, genuinely impressed. ‘Well done, all of you.’

  He turned to see one of the engineers lying on the ground, most of the area below the chest burned away. Ada was carefully removing the head and the coil from the body.

  ‘He’s okay,’ she said, ‘but it means we can carry less.’

  ‘Never mind. There will be more craft, I’m sure.’

  ‘Come on,’ said Calor, dancing from foot to foot. ‘We really need to get away now.’

  ‘Sure. But you can carry something, too.’ said Ada.

  Kavan was impressed at the way the engineer had assumed command. He didn’t mind. Whatever was best for Artemis.

  He wondered if Sandale and the rest of the Generals would see it that way.

  Susan

  ‘This way,’ said Spoole, leading Susan deeper into the Half-fused City. When the Storm Trooper had chased her through here before, the place had been deserted. Now the area was teaming with robots.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Spoole asked a passing infantryrobot.

  ‘We’re relaying the railway lines,’ said a soldier. ‘Now that Kavan has gone, the wall is coming down and we’re plugging ourselves back into the continent. Artemis is getting ready to march again.’

  ‘Kavan is gone? You’re certain of that?’

  ‘The animals cleared the area, didn’t they?’

  ‘And you’re happy about that?’ said Susan.

  ‘There is neither happiness nor unhappiness,’ replied the infantryrobot, ‘there is just Artemis.’

  ‘They’re laying the lines into the animals’ base,’ said Susan. ‘You could see them putting down the ballast from the Basilica.’

  They picked their way through the streets, the yellow flares and lights not quite holding back the darkness of the old buildings, the march and stamp and hurry of the troops not quite dispelling the feeling of stillness around them. In the distance, rising over the other buildings, Susan caught sight of the tops of the two shot towers.

  ‘Why do they keep this place standing?’ she asked. ‘It seems so out of place, here in the middle of Artemis City. Surely there is no sentimentality for the past in Nyro’s world?’

  ‘None,’ said Spoole. ‘This is where the unfused and the half-fused work. Robots that live indefinitely. They serve their purpose. But this place shrinks a little every year, as we find new ways to do things. Down here.’

  He led her down a narrow side street. Ahead of them was a small building, one storey high, barely big enough to hold a family forge. Its red-brick walls were dark and shiny in the dim light. It had no other features save for a plain steel door and a small smoking chimney. The other buildings around it were taller, they seemed to have edged away from it, their windows gazed distrustfully at their smaller cousin.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Susan.

  ‘The database,’ said Spoole. Susan followed him to the door. She noticed how well trodden the cobbled road was; there was a smooth path worn into the round stones, heading for the door ahead.

  ‘There is frequent talk about shutting this place down, of recycling the metal that lies inside, but they have yet to come up with a better way of storing records.’ Spoole laughed suddenly, a hollow sound in that still place. ‘Who knows, the database may outlast even Artemis City. All that we have been will still be recorded here, even when the rest of the metal of Artemis is spun into shape and carried to the stars by the animals.’

  And at that he knocked upon the steel door. There was no handle, Susan noticed.

  ‘Open up,’ he commanded. ‘It’s Spoole!’

  For a moment, Susan wondered if Spoole would be obeyed. What would he do if not, she wondered? The door without a handle was pushed open from inside and Susan looked into a single room, dimly lit by a yellow bulb. A Storm Trooper waited there, body humming with power.

  ‘Hello, Spoole.’

  ‘Hello, Geraint.’

  Susan followed Spoole inside. She felt trapped in this tiny space, she wanted to be safely outside, under the bright stars that filled the night above.

  ‘You bring an infantryrobot, Spoole? That’s not allowed.’ He looked at Susan. ‘Wait outside.’

  Susan looked coolly back at the Storm Trooper, intimidated though she was by his heavy black body. She could feel his current even from here.

  ‘I am leader of this city,’ said Spoole. ‘Stand aside.’

  ‘A leader of the city,’ said Geraint, but he stood aside anyway. Behind him a set of iron steps spiralled into the ground.

  ‘How many people are down there at the moment?’ asked Spoole.

  ‘Only a couple of filing clerks. Things have been quiet since the animals arrived. Who wants to look to the past, when the future is setting up base right outside the city?’

  ‘Who indeed?’ said Spoole.

  With the tap, tap, tap of metal feet on iron treads, he began to descend the stairs.

  ‘Haven’t we met before?’ said the Storm Trooper, looming over Susan. ‘You’re a conscript. I can tell. What body did you used to wear?’

  Susan had a memory of the making rooms, kneeling before robots like this. Had she made a child with him? The thought filled her with loathing.

  ‘Aren’t we all Artemisians?’ she replied, following Spoole down the steps, resisting the urge to strike the huge black brute.

  The steps spiralled through three turns and deposited Susan in a brick room, about the same size as the one above. There were two facing doorways leading through to similar rooms. An iron pipe led from a small stove up into the ceiling. A robot stood in the middle of the space, eyes glowing a weak grey. Unfused, she realized. Here was a robot whose mother had tied the end of its mind into a knot, making a mind doomed neither to die in forty short years nor to ever properly think or feel.

  ‘Nettie,’ said Spoole. ‘We’re looking for a robot named Nettie.’

  The robot pointed to the right-hand door.

  ‘If that robot exists, its record will be through that door.’ The robot lowered its head, losing all interest in them.

  Spoole was already walking through the right-hand door. Susan followed to find a similar room with two more exits, this time, though, one went down another set of stairs. A second unfused robot waited. It looked up as Spoole approached.

  ‘We’re looking for a robot named Nettie.’

  ‘If that robot exists, its record will be down the steps,’ replied the robot, pointing. Spoole was already descending. She followed him, only to see the robot in the next room point
ing down once more.

  ‘How far down does this go?’ she called.

  ‘I’ve heard fifteen levels,’ said Spoole.

  Susan calculated.

  ‘That’s 32, 768 robots down here. That is if this is a true binary tree we’re traversing. That’s almost as many robots as lived in Turing City!’

  ‘There are only three hundred and two, I think,’ said Spoole. ‘Each node robot holds several thousand records in their mind.’ He was facing another unfused robot now. ‘I’m looking for a robot named Nettie,’ he said.

  ‘If that robot exists, it will be through that door.’

  They followed the direction that was indicated, and continued their descent beneath the Half-fused City.

  Back in Turing City, Susan had been a statistician. She understood that she was walking through a concrete example of what she had previously thought of as an abstract concept. Artemis City had made a binary tree. She imagined a robot walking from the Main Index, carrying foil sheets to this building. She imagined the information it brought being passed down the tree of robots buried beneath the ground, each sending the sheet left or right depending on where it lay in the index. A tree. Susan had seen branching examples of organic life named after this structure.

  ‘This is bizarre, Spoole. Are you always so literal in this city?’

  ‘I don’t understand what you mean.’

  ‘Do you build every abstract idea you come across?’

  Spoole still didn’t understand. ‘Everything that Artemis has done ends up here eventually,’ he said.

  Down and along they went, traversing the data construct. Robot after robot pointed across or down, and they followed the direction indicated. Every so often they passed a little stove, its chimney leading up to the ceiling, and Susan guessed this was where the robots repaired themselves. And then, something new. Piles of soil in the corners of the room. Stacks of fresh bricks.

  ‘They build new rooms as the database gets bigger?’ she wondered aloud.

  ‘It used to be once every few years. Now it’s once every six months. The rate of Artemis’s expansion increases.’

  ‘We’re coming to the end.’

  ‘Inevitably. The newest data is stored at the farthest nodes.’