Blood and Iron

by Tony Ballantyne

  The gun at the top of the Street of Becoming was deactivated. The other human guns were mostly still now. Every so often one of them would twitch and send a brief stream of bullets into the night before lowering its head and resting once more. There was a sense of calmness and isolation up here at the top of Sangrel, a feeling of being temporarily removed from the trouble below. They all felt it, human and robot alike, staring into the surrounding darkness.

  ‘Zuse is low tonight,’ said La-Ver-Di-Arussah. ‘Hiding behind the hills.’

  Wa-Ka-Mo-Do looked at her in surprise, not expecting this sudden show of feeling. Was her confidence ebbing as his was?

  ‘I heard that Zuse is mentioned in the Book of Robots,’ she said.

  Wa-Ka-Mo-Do couldn’t be bothered to pretend any more.

  ‘It is, La-Ver-Di-Arussah.’ And he thought of Rachael. Rachael had told him that there was something significant about the metal moon. The humans seemed to know so much, he reflected, so much more than the robots did.

  ‘What do you think of your creators now?’ taunted La-Ver-Di-Arussah.

  ‘They’re not our creators,’ said Wa-Ka-Mo-Do bitterly. ‘The book says that we should look after each other. The humans don’t even look after themselves: look how they are fighting each other.’

  As if to prove his point, the nearest gun turned and fired a quick burst out into the night. He felt adrift, engaged in a war that he didn’t understand, caught between opposing forces that had no interest in him, half following the remnants of orders issued by his former Emperor.

  His former Emperor. Wa-Ka-Mo-Do felt a deep sense of shame at his treachery, but what else could he have done?

  ‘They’re coming!’

  The words were spoken by robots and humans alike. He saw the remaining humans of Sangrel hurrying up the broken Street of Becoming.

  The street was wider at the top, the houses there richer and more imposing. The humans moved quickly up the centre of the road, surrounded by green-panelled human soldiers, their feet slipping on the rounded cobbles as they headed for safety. The soldiers scanned the high windows and roofs, looking out for dark silhouettes against the stars. Every so often they raised a rifle to their shoulder and fired. Each time, a robot died. Still the bells tolled, but now, faintly behind them could be heard the chanting of electronic voices. Wa-Ka-Mo-Do peered into the darkness and saw the shapes of his troops bringing up the rear. Where was Ka-Lo-Re-Harballah?

  The humans began to enter the square, walking three abreast, quickly but without haste, and Wa-Ka-Mo-Do felt a sneaking admiration at their grace under pressure. He scanned their faces for Rachael, but didn’t see her. If they had any sense they would have put the young and weak in the middle of the line.

  A shout came from the city below.

  ‘The animals! They’re escaping!’

  How did they know? Did they guess the humans’ plan? It didn’t matter. All those little groups of robots out there, creeping through the rubble, searching for courage and direction, suddenly found a focus. The sound of gunfire increased.

  The steady flow of humans became a stampede.

  ‘It’s started!’ La-Ver-Di-Arussah drew her sword. ‘Cover the humans! Don’t allow any robot past!’

  ‘No killing!’ shouted Wa-Ka-Mo-Do.

  La-Ver-Di-Arussah laughed.

  ‘How else will we maintain order?’

  She moved forward, the remaining robot troops forming up around her. More humans came running forward, tumbling over each other, and Wa-Ka-Mo-Do found himself struggling against the tide. It would be so easy to take his sword and cut through this all too yielding flesh.

  ‘Where’s Ka-Lo-Re-Harballah?’ he called.

  ‘Down there,’ said La-Ver-Di-Arussah. ‘At the rear!’

  ‘Once the humans are past, bring all the troops up into the square!’

  ‘I will!’ She had resheathed her sword. Now she took out a pistol of human design and began to fire into the night.

  ‘Where did you get that?’ shouted Wa-Ka-Mo-Do.

  ‘Gillian gave it to me!’

  She wore a look of delight as she aimed the pistol down the street, picking off the civilians who showed themselves. There were more and more of them, the revolutionary crowd was growing all the time.

  ‘I still can’t see Ka-Lo-Re-Harballah!’

  ‘He doesn’t matter! Look at all these robots! We’re not going to hold them!’

  She was right. They were losing the battle.

  Losing the battle? These were his own citizens he was fighting against!

  And then he heard a noise behind him, and he turned to see the female gun at the top of the street raise its head.

  Gillian had lied to him. The humans had set it working again!

  He turned to run towards it, just as that odd rippling noise began. Just in time, he flattened himself to the ground, the air flickering above him as the gun fired down the road. He heard the shriek and clatter of metal being torn apart. Robots, the robots of his city were being killed, troops and rebels alike.

  From where he lay he saw Gillian and the soldiers looking down the street with empty eyes, eyes that did not light up with warmth or intelligence. Quickly, he began to crawl up towards the gun, hoping that it wouldn’t fire upon him. It hadn’t turned on La-Ver-Di-Arussah and the rest; he guessed that it was ranged beyond them.

  It was a gamble, but a good one. Besides, better to die with honour charging the humans’ weapon than to lie here while robots were being killed.

  He sprang forward, sprinting up the street.

  A human soldier pointed a pistol in his direction. Wa-Ka-Mo-Do glared at him, lighting up his face with the white glow of his eyes. The soldier hesitated, long enough for him to reach the gun, the shapely, curving machine that rippled death on the robots below. He could feel the power surging through it, that strange, singing current. He drew an awl and thrust it deep into the heart of the gun’s shaft, heard the bang, felt the electro-muscle in his right arm burn and die at the same time as the great gun did. Its head drooped, the rippling ceased. Wa-Ka-Mo-Do had killed it.

  ‘What have you done?’ shouted Gillian, running up to him. She had pulled her pistol from its holster and pointed it to his head as he stood there, arm hanging limply at his side. The gun wavered; the square was filling with humans all the time, behind them the noise of shooting was growing louder. The Street of Becoming echoed to the clatter of gunfire.

  ‘Wa-Ka-Mo-Do!’

  Rachael emerged from the crowd, face pale and smudged with soot.

  ‘What happened to your arm?’

  ‘Rachael,’ said Wa-Ka-Mo-Do in a low voice. ‘Get back.’

  Rachael noticed Gillian, who lowered her gun and turned back to her troops.

  ‘Get another gun across here, now!’ she called.

  Wa-Ka-Mo-Do saw that the last of the humans had entered the square. Now only the imperial soldiers remained, covering their retreat. La-Ver-Di-Arussah was forming them into a line at the top of the street, pouring fire down at the attacking rebels.

  ‘What’s happening, Wa-Ka-Mo-Do?’ Rachael’s voice sounded frightened. Wa-Ka-Mo-Do pushed the soft human gently away, and went forward to La-Ver-Di-Arussah.

  ‘You should have left the gun alone,’ she said. ‘It would have kept them back. They’ll overwhelm us soon.’

  She was right. There were so many robots out there now. Thin, poorly constructed things, the light in their eyes dim, their bodies made of tin and pig iron and whatever else there was to hand. They carried a few guns, a few knives. Mainly they held metal struts and bars, ripped from the broken buildings and quickly shaped into clubs and spears. These were robots that had lived in poverty for years under the Emperor’s rule, only to have even that taken from them when the humans had arrived. Little wonder that tonight they had finally risen up.

  Wa-Ka-Mo-Do felt the current draining from his body. Everything had gone so wrong. La-Ver-Di-Arussah had been right. He was nothing but a peasant, he was not made for
command.

  He looked at the straggling remains of the Imperial Army, joining the ranks of La-Ver-Di-Arussah’s defence.

  ‘Where’s Ka-Lo-Re-Harballah?’

  ‘Hit by the humans’ gun.’

  And at that the current flowed back through his body. Stronger and brighter than before, humming with anger.

  ‘The humans’ gun?’ said Wa-Ka-Mo-Do, softly. ‘The humans’ gun? And you see nothing wrong with this? Our soldiers cut down for the benefit of these Sebol?’

  He spat out the words.

  ‘We follow the will of the Emperor,’ said La-Ver-Di-Arussah, calmly.

  ‘The Emperor is a fool! He has sold us to these animals!’

  ‘We are his to sell. All of us. And none more so than those pig-iron peasants down there.’

  She waved to where the robots were moving in fits and starts up the Street of Becoming, falling in ones and twos before the volleys of the guns.

  Something dark passed across the bright stars above, and a new sound could be heard: a descending hum.

  ‘The humans’ ship,’ said La-Ver-Di-Arussah. ‘Look, here it comes!’

  Red lines leaped into being at the edge of the horizon, tracking a path through the night sky towards the descending craft. The female guns bobbed and turned, and high above more fire tracked out from the ship, intercepting the attack that had streamed from the distance.

  ‘They’re dropping the shuttles now,’ said Gillian. ‘Give us half an hour and we’ll be gone.’

  And then what about us?

  His thought was cut off. Gillian gulped, gulped again. She spat dark oil from her mouth. No, not oil, blood. Blood was pouring from her mouth and her chest, staining her uniform. A second bullet struck Wa-Ka-Mo-Do in his dead arm. He heard the ringing noise through the night. Robots were pouring into the square. How had they got up here so fast? They hadn’t breached La-Ver-Di-Arussah’s line.

  Wa-Ka-Mo-Do reached for his shotgun with his dead arm, realized his mistake and pulled it awkwardly from its sheath with the other. Across the square, humans were running towards one of the female guns, seeking no doubt to turn it on the robots.

  ‘No!’ called Wa-Ka-Mo-Do.

  La-Ver-Di-Arussah was firing at the attacking robots, shattering a fragile head, sending blue wire tangling out. The sound of the bells, the humming of the descending ship, the rippling of the guns . . .

  ‘Stop!’ cried Wa-Ka-Mo-Do. He raised his voice. ‘I am Wa-Ka-Mo-Do, of Ko, of the State of Ekrano in the High Spires! One of the Eleven! Commander of the Emperor’s Army of Sangrel! I command you to halt.’

  It worked. For a moment. The peasants nearest to him paused and looked in his direction. Then one turned a gun towards him, but too slowly. Wa-Ka-Mo-Do fired his shotgun, shattering the front of its body.

  He heard screams. Human screams. There was Rachael nearby, mouth wide open in a human expression of terror. Two robots had hold of her; they were pulling at her arms, trying to rip her apart. He leaped forward, kicked at the nearest with the blades at his feet, ripping the electromuscles in its leg. The second robot let go and ran. He shot it in the chest.

  ‘Th . . . thank you . . .’ said Rachael. She placed a hand on his arm. She looked as if she was going to hold him. At that moment she reminded him so much of La-Cor, his sister, he felt ashamed. Sangrel was burning, robots were dying, and he had paused to help a human. Would his sister understand that?

  ‘Wa-Ka-Mo-Do,’ said Rachael. ‘Listen to me, as soon as we’re gone, you’ve got to get away from here.’

  ‘Can’t. I’ve got the city to control!’

  A knife flew out of the night. He held out the barrel of his shotgun and deflected it from Rachael. She didn’t seem to notice.

  ‘Wa-Ka-Mo-Do, listen to me! It doesn’t matter! It will take us some time to get into orbit, but once we’re clear, sometime tomorrow morning . . .’

  Three explosions nearby. Shattered metal washed across the square. The first human shuttle descended from the sky. A wide-bodied craft, it landed near the terrace, light shining from its open doors.

  ‘Go!’ said Wa-Ka-Mo-Do.

  ‘Wa-Ka-Mo-Do, you must listen to me! They’re going to drop—’

  But someone took hold of Rachael and dragged her away, off towards the shuttle. Wa-Ka-Mo-Do turned and rejoined the fight.

  But the fighting was dying away. In the middle of the turning guns, beneath the explosions and flares that lit up the sky above, calm was spreading over the square. Humans retreated unmolested as robots were ceasing to fight, laying down their arms and kneeling down.

  What was happening? And then Wa-Ka-Mo-Do saw what the robots had already noticed. He saw the three figures that had emerged from the Copper Master’s house and who were now walking towards Wa-Ka-Mo-Do. He felt his gyros rattling, felt the current wobbling through his body. The Vestal Virgins had returned.

  The electrical hum of terror affected everyone in the square, and Wa-Ka-Mo-Do remembered the stories he had told Rachael of how the old rulers of Sangrel had woven fear into the citizens. It was still there now, it was there in every subject of the Emperor. Subservience to the Vestal Virgins was woven into the mind of every robot.

  The three women passed one of the human guns, their beauty rendering that of the alien machine strange and ugly by comparison. They halted before Wa-Ka-Mo-Do. He was swaying, he had discharged too much current that day. His arm hung useless at his side. He had never felt more powerless.

  ‘Wa-Ka-Mo-Do,’ said the first. ‘You have failed the Emperor.’

  She was as beautiful as he remembered her, but there, under the starry sky, with the fires of destruction leaping around the edge of the terrace, it was a terrible beauty.

  ‘The Emperor has failed us!’ shouted Wa-Ka-Mo-Do. His words rang hollow across the square.

  ‘You have failed Sangrel,’ said the second.

  ‘The Emperor failed Sangrel.’

  ‘You are relieved of your command,’ said the third.

  ‘By whose authority?’

  ‘The Emperor’s. There is a radio in the Mound of Eternity. Surely you must have realized this?’

  He hadn’t. He felt a shimmering whine inside himself, as if his lifeforce was dying away.

  One of the Vestal Virgins turned to La-Ver-Di-Arussah. ‘La-Ver-Di-Arussah, you are now in charge of this city.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Be silent, Wa-Ka-Mo-Do,’ said another.

  La-Ver-Di-Arussah stepped forward, smiling.

  ‘Put down this rebellion.’

  He wanted to shout out, but he couldn’t. He had been ordered to silence, and it was woven into his mind to obey the Vestal Virgins.

  One of them stepped forward, she touched Wa-Ka-Mo-Do on the head.

  ‘This way,’ she said.

  He found himself following her from the square. He had no choice. He looked across, saw Rachael’s pale face looking across at him as she boarded the shuttle. She was shouting something to him, but he couldn’t hear. The rattle of gunfire had begun once more, directed by La-Ver-Di-Arussah.

  Wa-Ka-Mo-Do was led into the Copper Master’s house, no longer the Commander of the Emperor’s Army of Sangrel, no longer a warrior of honour.

  He had failed, completely.

  As he was meant to do.

  Karel

  The animals had set up a little roof made of flexible plastic in the middle of the village. Under it there was a table set with some electronic equipment and some more sheets of plastic covered in symbols and pictures.

  Brian went straight to one of the sheets.

  ‘Here,’ he said, showing it to Karel, who took a moment to realize he was looking at green countries painted over blue seas. It was an odd choice of colours.

  ‘Here’s Shull over here,’ said Brian. ‘This is the large city to the south of these mountains. Can you show me where Turing City was?’

  Karel was too taken by the rest of the map.

  ‘What are all these other places?’ he asked, pointing to tw
o large islands, almost touching, to the right of the map. The two of them together were bigger than Shull.

  ‘These? I believe you call them Yukawa. Those are the north and south islands. And over here is Gell.’ He pointed to another huge island to the left of Shull. There was a scattering of smaller islands around it.

  ‘I never heard of these places!’ said Karel. ‘Never, not in all my time in Turing City, never in all my time working in immigration. No one ever came from these places.’

  ‘Really?’ said Brian.

  ‘Never mind that,’ interrupted Melt. ‘Ask them where they come from. I know these animals. They ask so many questions, and they give nothing in return.’

  ‘How do you know so much about them, Melt?’

  Melt leaned forwards. ‘Go on, Brian, tell us. Where are you from?’

  The animal laughed, his white painted mouth stretched in a wide smile. The dark glass he wore over his eyes reflected the surrounding peaks.

  ‘We’re from a place called Earth, Melt. Another planet. Millions and millions of miles away.’

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Finding out about you. On Earth, not so long ago, people like me and Ruth and Jasprit used to travel to other countries to find out how the people lived, what their customs and beliefs were.’

  ‘Their beliefs?’ said Karel. ‘Why would you do that?’

  ‘And what about the humans down on the plain below?’ interrupted Melt. ‘What are they doing here?’

  ‘Trading.’

  Ruth stepped forward. ‘The trouble is,’ she said, ‘once one culture begins to interact with another they both begin to alter each other. That’s why we are up here, in the mountains, where things are—’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ interrupted Melt once more. Karel was getting irritated by how rude he was being. ‘Tell me about Earth. Did countries trade with each other back on Earth?’

  ‘All the time,’ said Brian. ‘They still do now. Tell me, Melt, where have you seen humans before? How long ago was it?’

  Melt glared at the man.

  ‘Could you show us on a map?’ asked Brian, not giving up.