Blood and Iron

by Tony Ballantyne

  But Sandale’s words had achieved their intended effect. Spoole sensed the change in the mood, he felt the scales tilt against him. Still, he pressed on.

  ‘The animals have taken their payment and more, Sandale! They are spreading across our land!’

  A buzz of current ran across the room, jumping from robot to robot. Sandale raised his arms for attention.

  ‘You exaggerate, Spoole,’ he said, once silence had returned. ‘The animals remain within their compound.’

  ‘They remain within their compound? Except for their flying craft! Except for the railway lines they convert to their purpose and then use to take metal and fuel from us! Day by day the number of trains that ride the rails to their base increases, trains laden with refined oil and good plate steel, all carried from their bases in Stark and Raman and Wien!’

  The point struck home, as Spoole knew it would. Taking metal away was like taking children away. All those unmade children that were the future of Artemis. Still, Spoole knew he should not underestimate the Generals. They were of a different manufacture. The newer minds may not be prepared in the ways of the battlefield, but they were twisted to rhetoric and the art of debate. Already, one young General clad in the lightest of bodies was stepping forward to speak.

  ‘Indeed, Spoole is right!’ she declared. ‘The humans do take oil and steel, but what you seem incapable of realizing is that they return more than they take! And what they return is of a higher quality, or better than that, of materials previously unknown to us. Look at the metal that is scattered around this forge, given to us by the humans! Look at the aluminium they have brought!’

  The entire room gazed at the body of the General, regarded its lustre, felt with their senses its strange but natural essence.

  ‘Aluminium!’ said one robot, near to Spoole, and the wistfulness in its voice was almost painful to hear.

  ‘Yes!’ called Sandale, delighted at how the point had struck home. ‘Aluminium! Look, all of you, look at the metal that lies to the far wall of this assembly room. Look, too, at the copper and the platinum, the gold and the electrum that the animals have exchanged with us!’

  A buzz ran around the room. Sandale stepped forward, and, old soldier that he was, Spoole saw the titanium beneath the aluminium that he wore.

  ‘You call us, traitors, Spoole?’ called Sandale. ‘Why? Artemis has traded in the past, it will continue to do so in the future!’ He moved to face the crowd. ‘Listen, all you who have come here today, following this relic of the past. The world may be transforming, but we remain true to Nyro! If Spoole and his philosophy are no longer in keeping with the new reality, as they so clearly are not, then what do we do but build new leaders? Leaders such as those you see before you. Leaders who understand the need to twist new minds suitable for the continuation of Artemis!’

  At that some of the robots around the room stamped their feet in agreement. Stamp, stamp!

  Sandale turned to face Spoole.

  ‘See Spoole? We are not traitors.’

  Spoole was not built to feel uncertainty under most conditions, and so it was for the first time that he wondered if he had made a mistake. What if Sandale was right? What if he really were a relic of the past?

  He pushed the thought aside. He wasn’t made to be indecisive under any circumstances.

  ‘What about the mothers?’ he said.

  ‘What of them?’ asked Sandale.

  ‘Yes, what of them,’ called a nearby infantryrobot. Spoole spoke to him directly.

  ‘The mothers of Artemis, Olivier, didn’t you know? Sandale has given some of them to the animals, he has ordered them to weave minds that will serve the animals, to weave minds according to the animals’ designs.’

  The assembled robots didn’t like that. The thought of minds being woven in any way but that of Nyro’s was abhorrent to them. Spoole saw the glow of their eyes, he felt the mood swing back towards him. But once again the young General dressed in aluminium stepped forward.

  ‘“Minds according to animals’ designs”?’ she said. ‘And what of it? The metal will still be metal. It will run for forty years or so in the humans’ service, and then it will die, and it will still be metal. Eventually it will return to Nyro’s cause. And just think what we may have gained in trade from the humans in the meantime.’

  That calmed the robots a little. They were still unhappy, but they were willing to listen. They wanted to listen. It was built into them to trust the Generals. Spoole felt the balance swinging this way and that. He saw the Generals ranged against him, one robot against the many. He would lose this argument in the long run, he knew it.

  He realized his mistake then, coming here and arguing like this. He had walked onto a battlefield advantageous to his enemies. He should have fought them directly instead, using guns and knives. Too late to realize this now.

  Then someone spoke from the back.

  ‘This metal is from Turing City State!’

  The robots turned in the direction of the shout.

  ‘Turing City State is no more!’ called Sandale, but Spoole noted the hum of current that had arisen within the General.

  ‘Hold,’ called Spoole. ‘Speak, robot. What metal is from Turing City State? What do you mean?’

  ‘This electrum! This metal that is said to be a gift from the humans! I would recognize the mix anywhere! It’s from the coastal mines. I used to assay there, before the invasion.’

  ‘From the coastal mines?’ called Spoole, and he saw the reaction of the Generals.

  ‘You knew that, didn’t you?’ he said, realization dawning.

  ‘No . . .’ said the young General, her current humming audibly.

  ‘You did!’ he said, anger rising within him. ‘You knew that already! Yet you continued to deal with them! They are trading us our own metal! They take metal from us and give us back our own!’

  ‘Why would they do that?’ replied Sandale, desperately.

  ‘The mothers of Artemis! They want the mothers! And you’ve given them to the animals!’

  Rifles were gripped more tightly now, awls and knives were drawn.

  ‘The aluminium!’ said the young General. ‘What about the aluminium? That doesn’t exist upon Shull.’

  ‘Not on Shull,’ said Spoole. ‘But maybe elsewhere on Penrose! We never looked that far abroad, did we? Too content on keeping ourselves in power!’

  ‘No!’

  The current in the room was building to a peak, ready to discharge. The Generals felt it. They saw how guns and knives were turned in their directions. Their reign was coming to an end.

  Spoole’s followers turned towards him, awaiting the order.

  ‘No!’ he shouted. ‘Not now. Save your anger for the true target! It lies outside our doors, it lies just outside this city! Robots of Artemis, take back your land! Take back your metal! Take back your mothers!’

  The young General stepped forward once more.

  ‘No!’ she exclaimed. ‘NO!’

  And the robots were silent for a moment.

  ‘Listen! Just listen to me.’ The robots were still, they looked at her. They wanted to hear what she had to say. Anything was better than the near certain death that would likely result from attacking the humans.

  ‘Listen,’ she repeated, and her voice was calm now. ‘You’re angry. I understand that. But you must trust your leaders. Yes, we were lied to. Yes, the humans misled us. But which one of you could have done better? Who here has any experience of negotiating with animals? None of us! So now we find ourselves in a situation not of our choosing. Well, what would you do now? Follow Spoole as he leads you into the human guns? What good would it do Artemis if we were all to die this day?’

  Spoole laughed.

  ‘What good would it do to follow the humans?’

  ‘We would live a little longer, and so would Artemis. I say we think about where we are. I say we follow the humans for the moment. Then, when we understand them better, that would be the time to attack!’
>
  ‘No! No longer. We attack now!

  But once more the robots in the forge were undecided. The young General pressed home her advantage.

  ‘And there it is, Spoole. That is the sticking point. Is there really any robot here that we would trust to lead us in an attack on the humans? Is there any robot here capable of defeating them? I don’t think so.’

  And a voice called out from the rear of the crowd.

  ‘There is one.’

  They all turned to look in the direction of the robot that had spoken. It was a Scout, her silver body scratched and battered.

  ‘There is one,’ she repeated, and she turned towards the door. They all followed her gaze and saw the robot who stood there. An electrical thrill surged through the crowd.

  Kavan had returned.

  Kavan

  ‘Fight until your coil is broken,’ said Kavan. ‘If we lose, our metal will be taken from this planet, never to be reclaimed. Shull will gradually be drained of all metal, and the diminishing number of robots who remain will be left to fight over ever decreasing resources.’

  That was it. No more speeches.

  The attack began at night, when the humans slept like children.

  The guns that surrounded their compound suddenly lifted their heads and turned to look at the night. The railway lines began to sing, bright white flares rose into the sky, electricity began to hum, and the ground shook as thousands of feet stamped down in unison.

  The human guns began to ripple, tearing apart the leading edge of the train that sped down the tracks towards them, bullet holes travelling its length, perforating the metal, peeling it away into the night. A fire glowed white at the heart of the locomotive, it caught and spread backwards, and the train flared into a metal comet streaking onward.

  Explosion!

  The first atomic bomb detonating at a speed of nearly two hundred miles an hour, the explosion bouncing forward, wiping out the human guns closest to Artemis City . . .

  The rest of the guns were already refocusing on the second and third trains, racing up behind, the massed firepower much reduced by the first explosion, but the tracks were now ripped apart and there was no road through. The second train exploded further away from the compound, the third train further still.

  Scouts running across the plain, their bodies shattering as the human guns saw them, more Scouts coming up behind, watching the paths of those ahead, seeking out the lines where the firepower was weaker or non-existent. Engineers poured from the city, laying new lines; they were followed by the wagons that rolled down the newly laid tracks, bringing more rails and sleepers. Infantryrobots walked the corridors picked out by the Scouts, Storm Troopers aiming heavy weapons into the night, firing bazookas in the direction of the guns, the shells picked off and detonated by the compound’s defences when they were still half a mile distant.

  ‘Concentrate your fire on one gun!’

  ‘Fire on one gun only!’

  ‘Aim for the nearest! Your shells will have less distance to travel!’

  ‘Less chance for their guns to get their aim.’

  The sergeants called the orders, the troops obeyed, and then, there in the distance, there was a bright yellow flare as the first of the human guns was destroyed by Storm Trooper fire.

  ‘Good! And again! And again!’

  More Scouts were running forward. The human defences had less of a field of fire now. The massing troops began to move forward. Scouts exploded in silver fragments, cutting into their sisters running up behind them. Some of them dragged themselves from the front, their legs cut away, heading back to find fresh bodies in order to resume the attack.

  Now the human guns began to fire upon the infantryrobots. Their cheap grey bodies were shattered by just one bullet, and random patterns of disintegrating fragments jumped back and forth amongst the ranks as the human guns turned frantically back and forth, covering an ever-expanding front. And then another gun exploded, and another, picked off systematically by the Storm Trooper weapons.

  ‘It’s working!’ shouted Spoole, watching with the rest from a point just inside the marshalling yards. ‘It’s working!’

  ‘It’s only the first phase,’ observed Kavan. ‘The humans will have awoken by now. They’ll begin their counterattack soon. That’s when we’ll see the weapons they’ve been holding back.’

  ‘We should launch Ada’s devices now,’ suggested Sandale.

  ‘No,’ said Kavan. ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Then let’s not launch them at all,’ said Sandale. ‘It would be easier to let the humans go, if it comes to that.’

  ‘You’re not leading this attack,’ replied Kavan.

  The infantryrobots continued to push forward, gaining ground on the enemy guns. The new railway lines grew, bringing the engineers within range of the enemy. They exploded in blue fragments, their peers working on around them. Behind them in the marshalling yard, the troop trains revved their engines.

  The human compound was coming alive. Lights flicked on, dark shadows moved between them. Helicopters were rising into the air; they turned towards the attacking robots and yellow lines speared the night, connecting with a group of Storm Troopers that had just succeeded in destroying another of the guns. The helicopter fire shattered their bodies in an incandescent explosion. Grey infantry boiled forward and the human craft tilted their noses down and flew towards them, their drone filling the night, their firepower filling in the gaps in the field of fire where the human guns had been destroyed.

  ‘Sensible,’ said Kavan. ‘Just what I would have done.’

  With the additional support of the helicopters, the guns were able to halt the advance. Now two of the craft peeled off and began to fly towards the city itself.

  ‘What now?’ asked Spoole.

  As if in answer, the night lit up in brilliant white once more. More atomic weapons, these detonated beneath the helicopters as they crossed over into Artemisian lines. The two closest craft were destroyed immediately. In the distance, the others fought to remain in the sky.

  ‘Just as you said, Ada,’ said Kavan.

  ‘That will keep the others back for a while,’ observed Ada with satisfaction. ‘They won’t know where we’ll do that again!’

  The area between Artemis City and the human compound was filling with craters, invisibly glowing with radiation, but still troops and engineers poured forward, running over the bodies of the fallen, turning their fire on the human guns. Everywhere there was movement, light, explosions, dark shapes running in lines this way and that.

  And then, to the left, another explosion.

  ‘Ours or theirs?’ wondered Spoole.

  ‘Ours,’ said Ada. ‘There are more railway lines being laid over there, hidden by the darkness. They must have got another train close enough to the compound.’

  ‘They’re being attacked on two sides now!’ called Calor in delight, and she swiped the air with her claws.

  ‘What’s that?’ called Spoole.

  Three lights flared in the human compound. Then three more, then three more. Something bright streaked towards the city.

  ‘Missiles!’

  Three explosions to their right. So loud and bright. It filled the head with static, their vision blurred with white noise.

  ‘Atomics!’ shouted Ada, and her voice bent as three more explosions came from the left.

  ‘Launch the first devices,’ instructed Kavan.

  ‘They’ll take forty seconds to get heeeerrrrr!’

  The third set of three explosions was the closest yet. Kavan saw three more lights flash in front of him. They instantly dissolved in a brighter explosion.

  ‘The Storm Troopers,’ whooped Calor. ‘They hit the launcher!’

  The order of the battlefield was breaking down as the Artemisian soldiers charged forward indiscriminately, dropping into shell holes, cut down by guns, shattered by nearby explosions, picked off by the bullets of the helicopters that hung in the distance, afraid of more weapons, but a
ll the time gaining ground, all the time advancing on the human compound. The area before them erupted.

  ‘Mines!’ said Spoole. ‘How did they do that without us knowing? Do they burrow up from underground?’

  ‘Ineffective,’ said Kavan, dismissively. ‘A mine can only blow up once. The metal of the soldier that it disables can be used again and again.’

  ‘What’s that buzzing?’ asked Sandale, and Ada spun to look behind them, her face filled with delight.

  ‘Here they come!’ she exclaimed. ‘We had to launch them from trains in the end. The engines don’t work unless the device is already up to speed, so we set them on trucks and got the train moving to ninety miles an hour. There is enough of a flow of air into the inlet then to keep the reaction going . . .’

  Kavan wasn’t listening. Ada had to explain everything she saw. All he was interested in was the application. He saw the first of the streamlined devices as it flew overhead, so low Kavan that could make out the eyes set in its underside.

  ‘. . . pulse bombs!’ Ada continued. ‘We wove the minds to aim for anything hanging in the air. Look! It’s seen the helicopters!’ Ada’s eyes flashed blue with delight.

  First one, then two, then a whole pack of the devices streaked past, heading towards the human craft, rolling through the air to dodge their fire. The first one hit a helicopter and exploded in yellow flames. Up ahead, the robots stamped the ground, three times. Stamp, stamp, stamp.

  ‘And more,’ called Ada, looking up. ‘And more! Oh, give me more time and I will make you missiles like the humans build! I will build a device that will carry Artemis to the stars! Then Nyro’s voice will be heard across the galaxy!’

  The pulse bombs rumbled overhead, the strange buzzing noise of their engines resonating against each other.

  ‘We had to tune the combustion chambers to a precise pitch for each one,’ explained Ada. ‘Listen, how they each sound a different note. Listen to how they build chords in the sky! The harmonies resonate against each other! We are building a symphony from the battlefield.’

  ‘Oh yes!’ shrieked Calor, slashing her claws once more. ‘Oh yes! I can hear it!’

  Mad, thought Kavan. They’re all mad.