This broadcast, Homunk thought, will be a slap at the ‘non-believers’ but no more. Still, at least one Terranian will have to die. In front of the cameras of an entire world. His death would show that he was no robot, that he was a human being.
In other respects, too, the demonstration would have its drawbacks. The so-called believers would see with their own eyes how one of the legendary creators would helplessly bleed to death. They would know that the gods were as mortal as they; in reality, even more mortal and more easily wounded.
He turned to the priest.
"How did you find out that I’m a robot? You knew it without having to kill me first."
"There are scientific ways."
"Why shouldn’t they be used in the forthcoming demonstration as well? The death of a god will destroy your planet."
"A god who lets himself be destroyed is no god."
Logically, that was right. If the gods were really that mighty, they would know how to take care of themselves. Homunk could find no counter-argument for that. He had only 8 minutes left. If by that time he couldn’t find a convincing solution, one or even all of the crew of the EX-238 would have to die in order to prove that they were no gods.
The devil take all gods! thought Homunk in anger. In reality, though, he was angry with himself, for it had been up to him to explain to the robots in time. But he had only fed their superstitions. And their disappointment must now be so much the greater.
Seven minutes more.
At the entranceway to the door, there was a commotion. After some disturbance, the masses divided and opened a narrow passageway between them. A detail of the powerfully built work robots marched toward the robot brain and the leaders of the believers. It was a contingent of a dozen Metalix who’d been living underground for thousands of years and, until a short time ago, had thought they were busying themselves for their creators.
They crowded their way forward till they were at the podium. One of them stepped up and said in a loud voice: "We demand the release of your prisoners. If, you destroy them, we won’t work any more."
Homunk was thankful for the workers’ intervention but at this particular moment it meant only delay. The time remaining for the 10 men from the EX-238 was growing inexorably shorter.
The priest spoke before anyone could say anything.
"The creators built you to work for our civilization. If you stop working, it will amount to mutiny. Anyway, you’re superfluous. You, too, will be destroyed."
Only 5 minutes till the demonstration…
"The creators intended us to work for them. You let them die underground in order to rule yourselves. When the creators return, they will punish you for that."
"They’ll never find their way back again."
"They have found their way back!"
Only 4 minutes!
A silvery shadow flitted across the blue sky. Homunk reacted more quickly than a human being; he also reacted more quickly than the robots and so he had recognized the shadow immediately: it was a small glider from the hangars of the EX-238.
The shadow turned back and floated motionlessly above the robot brain. Slowly, it sank farther down. Only now did the thousands of robots in the hall notice it. They waited expectantly.
The glider landed gently on the upper platform of the robot brain.
When Homunk recognized the passengers, his hopes fled. He wondered at the mousebeavers, at Pucky most of all, but he gave them credit for their attainments. Still, he could not imagine of what help they could be to him or to the 10 men of the expedition. Before the announced demonstration—or execution—only three minutes remained.
In the glider sat 4 mousebeavers.
One of the mousebeavers, Pucky, sprang with one leap out of the glider and landed exactly between Homunk and the priest on the lower platform that served as a podium. "Well?" he said triumphantly.
Homunk did not lose any time.
"In the hall of the other robot brain the robots want to execute the 10 people they’ve taken prisoner. We have to do something."
"Maj. Koster…? Where?"
"On the other side of the city."
"How do you know?"
"It just came over the communication set."
Pucky looked around him.
"Can you talk to them from here?"
"I think so."
"Ask that fellow over there."
The fellow—Pucky had indicated the priest—had recovered from his surprise. He knew that the mousebeaver was an organic being and no robot. But he was also not one of the creators. So he was the very opposite of a god.
Even so, before he could say anything into the microphone, Homunk was after him: "Turn on the communication set. I’ve got an important message. Quick!"
The priest hesitated.
Homunk forced his way past the priest. With but one glance he comprehended the controls of the robot brain and their functioning. He pressed a button. The screens flickered. On one of them there appeared a clear image. It showed the other robot brain and, before it, the prisoners.
Maj. Koster and his 9 companions stood wedged in among the robots. Now a junior officer—Homunk remembered having seen him in the mineralogy section of the explorer ship—was brought forward in front of the waiting cameras.
"What do you want to say to them, Pucky? They can hear us and see us."
"Wait," the mousebeaver counselled with determination. "They will be surprised! There are other methods to serve as evidence in determining whether someone is a human being or a robot." He turned to the visible camera lenses in the robot brain and spoke louder, this time in the dialect that was used by the Metalix. "Stop! If you kill this man, you will all be destroyed. Consider just what you are doing—or better yet: listen to what I have to say to you. Maybe you don’t like my looks, which says something about your stupidity and narrow-mindedness, but that makes no difference now. I have set a bomb on the other side of your planet. Through teleportation, in case you know what that is. I will describe the place and you can check whether my statements are true. The bomb is no bigger than one of you but if it’s set off it will gobble up your planet in less than two days. Ever hear of chain reaction? Here, look at my hand…" Pucky held up his right arm. In it was a small black box. In the middle of its lid was a white button. "When I push the button, the Arkon bomb-named after its discoverers’ home world—will detonate. The planet will turn into a molten sun since its entire core consists of heavy metals. You must then flee with your ships or else be converted into pure energy. Even if you kill just one of the prisoners, I will set off the bomb. Well, that was what I wanted to tell you. The next move is up to you."
He stepped back and stopped next to Homunk.
The android looked at Pucky with new respect.
"You’ve certainly come up with something original, little one. Rhodan would be amazed, if he knew."
"Not so loud, maybe the Metalix can understand English."
"Hardly. Tell me, is it true about the bomb?"
"Yes, it’s true. If the robots don’t behave themselves, there won’t be any planets in the centre of the Milky Way, only two suns revolving around an invisible central point. Finished!"
When Pucky said ‘finished’ he was serious. There was no argument that could have deflected him from his purpose.
A loud, deep voice sounded out. It was the same voice that 10 minutes before had announced the ‘demonstration’. But that didn’t mean much, for the artificial vocal chords of the robots all produced nearly the same sound.
"What is an Arkon bomb?" the voice asked.
Pucky looked at Homunk.
"If you can, explain it to them. I can’t. I only know what can be done with it, not more."
Homunk said: "The Arkon bomb is the latest method of destruction of the humanoids. After detonation, it produces an atomic conflagration that cannot be put out for any element above the atomic number 10. The conversion stops only when the planet has no more of these elements left. As fa
r as I can ascertain, the average order of elements in this world is around 50. There will never have been a brighter nova in the universe… if the bomb is detonated." Homunk added a few technical details and concluded: "You don’t want to believe in the return of the gods but there is one thing, and in that you do believe, regardless to which of the 3 groups you belong: you believe in force and might. It is the only argument that counts with you. For that reason, we brought the bomb. Convince yourselves that it is in the exact spot that was described. And let the prisoners go immediately so that they can return to their ship."
"The demonstration will be delayed," was the reply.
Pucky cursed in fury.
"A fig-headed bunch, the Metalix. They need a lesson. Should I set off the bomb?" He held the black box aloft again. "Just a button to be pushed and…"
"Wait!" This time Homunk, just like Pucky, spoke in old Arkonidian dialect so that the robots could understand him. "We’re giving them their last chance."
The lieutenant of the mineralogy section had been returned to the other 9 men. There could not be any talk of freeing the captives yet. Even so, for the moment, the danger of immediate execution was staved off.
The priest drew up to Homunk.
"We won’t have anything to do with it," he said. "You are free to go. "Do you want the war to continue or do you want us to go back to the holy city?"
That was a bit surprising, even for Homunk. This sudden change of mood was a sign that the technical data regarding this bomb had been enough. But if one robot was convinced it existed, then all must be. As regards logical thought, they were all the same.
"That’s up to you," Homunk replied.
Without looking at him again, the priest turned around and gave the leaders of the army his orders. In broad columns, the robots left the dome hall and gathered outside on the square. Only the 12 work robots stayed behind. They were undecided and simply waited.
Pucky looked at them disinterestedly. He, too, was waiting. For the decision of the Metalix.
It came a few minutes later.
"The demonstration is unnecessary since the dispute between us and the fanatics has been settled. No one believes in gods any more. You may leave our world."
On the screen, it could be seen that Koster and his 9 companions had been freed. They went through a lane formed by two rows of thousands of robots and reached the spaceport. Without further delay they returned to the EX-238. Behind them the outer lock closed and seconds later the protective shield was re-activated.
One of the workers detached himself from the group and stopped in front of Homunk.
"You are going away?"
Homunk nodded. "Yes."
"Even if the 10 men who look like our masters are really no robots?"
"Even then. Why should we stay here?"
"You know what will happen?"
"No. What will happen?"
The robot did not answer immediately. He seemed to be considering whether what he had intended to say would get him in trouble. Then, nevertheless, he decided to speak.
"The believers and the non-believers have been living on the surface of the planet. They were there when the masters were still with us, eventually withdrawing underground where they finally became isolated and died. The present conflict keeps the planned fleet of Silver Arrows from being built. For thousands of years we’ve been supplying the raw materials. They’ve been stockpiled and they’d be enough for 100,000 Silver Arrows. The equipment is ready. The ships only have to have a hull installed and that is quickly poured and done. It would be the most powerful fleet that has ever taken off from any planet and if we’d begin work tomorrow, it would be ready within a year."
Homunk looked at the expressionless lenses of the speaker. "There aren’t enough robots to man so many ships," he said.
"You’ve seen the work shops, the installations and the factories but you’ve never seen the underground warehouses. The crews for the attack fleet are ready. A push of a button would activate them. There are 10 million robots."
Homunk was silent for a long minute. Beside him stood Pucky, silent and small, an unobtrusive figure. Yet, in his hand rested the black box. It made Pucky the key figure in what was now happening. With his help, the threatening attack on the universe could be averted.
Homunk had 60 seconds to imagine what would happen, when…
* * * *
The war on the central planet was at an end. At last the robots could think of turning their plans of thousands of years into a reality. Fifteen or 20 robot brains had unanimously assumed all power. They could command inexhaustible resources, for as man was made of dust, so the robots were made of the strong metals of the central planet. Millions or billions. Maybe even a trillion Silver Arrows.
The robot brains gave the order. Whether believers or non-believers or workers—everyone obeyed. The long-prepared work process would continue. The production would not be interrupted again. Every day thousands of ships would be built, 10 thousand new robots. The mightiest power that had ever been seen in the galaxy would be hammered out of the ground, piece by piece, and in every sense of the word—from an earth that would give up the purest of raw materials.
It took just a year, then the robot brains gave the order to start.
The weight of the central planet diminished noticeably as the fleet took off from it. The sky darkened. Only the work robots and the core personnel remained behind.
And the robot brains.
The fleet began with a search for those that could one day return to take up the rule, for those whom many took for gods but who were no more than normal mortal humanoids.
Their weapons were not as good nor as effective as those of the Terranians, not even so good as those of the Arkonides, the Akonides or the Springers. But the Silver Arrows were under a single command and they outnumbered everyone. They penetrated all outer fortifications, all space forts and all safety belts. They swarmed over the galaxy, bringing death and destruction.
The crews were not human beings, not even monsters. They were merciless robots, possessed by a single idea: they did not want to be servants any more. They were only afraid of the ‘gods’, of the humanoids, and therefore they wanted to exterminate them.
Homunk could see the afflicted world before him.
From the universe came the Silver Arrows, clouds of them, and plummeted down on the nearly defenceless planets that had no idea of any danger. The Federation had been broken up; the races lived isolated and only for themselves. There was no communal defence. The robots had an easy thing and they didn’t need more than a day for a planet.
They left behind them a burnt but glowing world that would support no life for thousands of years.
Then the next and the next…
Until the Silver Arrows found the Earth.
Here they found stronger defences, for Terra was armed. But even 10,000 transform cannons could not, in the long run, hold out against the millions of Silver Arrows. The first outposts of the defence were broken. A whole swarm of suicidal robot ships descended upon them, strafed the ground and left behind them nothing but a flaming sea of destruction.
It didn’t matter to the robots if they were destroyed in the process. Ten thousand or 100,000 Silver Arrows—what did it matter when a new fleet was being readied at the central planet…?
When the last ships of the Terranians perished in a burning atomic cloud or fled in panic into the universe, only one burning planet, the third one, revolved about the sun. The rest of the Silver Arrow fleet gathered. The moon was destroyed, Mars and Venus reduced to ashes. They flew toward the next sun system.
From the central planet, the second fleet started out.
The third was being built.
As the fourth was ready for flight, there were scarcely any humanoids left.
The gods had died and there were only robots left.
Robots that reproduced themselves constantly, ever faster, ever more developed, ever more power hungry.
/> And when nothing was left to conquer, they dared to take the leap over the great abyss and forge on to the neighbouring galaxy. No one knew what they would find there but perhaps there their advance would be stopped.
But mankind could no longer profit by that chance…
The weird vision had lasted only a minute but for Homunk these 60 seconds seemed like an eternity. He awoke as if from a dream and looked at the worker robots.
"Why are you telling me this?" he asked.
"Do you have to know the reasons?"
"They interest me. I am myself an android and think more logically than a human being. You are a robot and think equally logically. True, I must admit that I’ve never met more intuitively behaving robots; even so, logic retains its upper hand. You would tell me the intentions of the Metalix only when it would be to your advantage. This advantage interests me."
"Your arrival has changed the situation in our world. The surface robots have united. Until now, the religious war took its toll. We have always had to work but now we’ve threatened to stop. We have no weapons to defend ourselves. Thus it will be our fate to be melted down and re-built or simply be re-programmed. As we are now, we will not continue to exist. In other words: the future of our world and our race does not concern us any more. We have become the sacrifice to unity. But you’ve already said that we feel and we think. That’s why I’ve told you the truth. We want our revenge before we’re destroyed."
Pucky toyed with his black box. "Should I press the white button or not—for you, you say, it wouldn’t make any difference any more?"
"Right," said the robot and looked at the mousebeaver carefully. "So you can set off the bomb. You would save the universe from destruction by doing it." He turned toward Homunk again. "Leave our world now. We are grateful that you came."
Without waiting for an answer, the work robot turned around, joined the other eleven and marched at their head out of the empty dome hall.
Above on the platform of the robot brain, Ooch clambered out of the cabin of the glider. He assumed a stance and squeaked: "Well, Homunk, what do you say now? We only have to appear and the Metalix evaporate. Without our intervention, Koster and his men would have come to a bad end indeed."
In the Centre of the Galaxy Page 14
