by Jack Thorlin
“How so?” Redfeather asked.
“Global temperatures may decrease slightly. For the next few years, the global temperature may be lower on average by perhaps a degree Celsius. The damage will not be catastrophic. After all, we want to live on this planet as well. But it will completely destroy our colony and your robots.”
That doesn’t sound so bad, Redfeather thought. It would also solve the problem of the Charlies discovering evidence of his envoys who had secretly ceded Mozambique to the Ushah. “That level of damage is acceptable to the Terran Alliance.”
The Enshath’s color turned a deeper green, a sign of contentedness. “Then I believe we have an agreement. Your people should begin the evacuation of Africa at once. And I must request that you do not reveal my story about the Great Destroyer to any of your own people.”
“But why?” Redfeather asked. “We know so little about each other. Wouldn’t our two peoples have a better chance at a lasting peace if we understood your story?”
“You and I have decided that there is peace. That should be sufficient. My father ordered me not to tell the new generation of Ushah about this threat. He thought it would turn us into anti-technology barbarians.”
The Enshath continued speaking, but the translator hesitated. His sense of professionalism overwhelmed his personal feelings, and he said, “That is why the story must remain between the two of us.”
Even Redfeather understood the implication. The translator would die a noble death for his Enshath so that the secret would remain between the two rulers. “Very well, I will not disclose that part of our conversation. How soon will your attack begin?”
“A few hours from now.”
Chapter 35: George
Acting as an occupation force was not what the Charlies had been designed for, George knew. The situation required the robot to study an entirely new set of historical examples. Project Charlie had not cut off his access to books, so he downloaded and analyzed everything he could find on pacification and occupation of a hostile population.
Of course, those precedents all involved humans on both sides, not robots watching over Ushah. The Ushah society was much more centrally organized and stratified, which made it far easier to take over from the outside. The closest historical analogue George could find was the conquest of the Persian Empire by Alexander the Great, where the Greek officers more or less neatly filled the hole left by the departure or death of Persian elites.
Here in Colony 4, it was simpler still. Twelve hours after the assault began, there were no Ushah soldiers left alive in the colony. The soldiers could not blend in with other castes because of their greater height and size, and they hadn’t even tried to do so.
36 hours had elapsed since Art had conveyed the Charlies’ ultimatum. Neither Project Charlie nor the Terran Alliance had sent any word about their intentions. The Ushah had not mobilized any force to retake Colony 4, which made sense given the heavy losses they’d incurred in their bloody defeat at Base Delta. George had no doubt that there would be an Ushah response, but he didn’t know what it could be at this point.
In short, all of the major factions were plotting, George thought, but the Charlies were just sitting here waiting. He wished they hadn’t allowed the humans so much time to respond to the message. He had been one of the most influential voices arguing that maintaining cordial relations with humanity was worth the inconvenience of having to wait for days at Colony 4, but as the dangers escalated, he found himself agreeing with the hawks like Art who had wanted to leave immediately for the relative safety of the jungle.
A message came in from another Charlie. The message metadata indicated the sender was Joshua, one of the Charlies who had gone north before Art could discuss the plan with him. “George, has the Terran Alliance agreed to your terms yet?”
A long moment passed as George considered what Joshua might be here for. He was not one of the more mentally dexterous Charlie 4 models. His specialty was explosives, and he was more of a technician than a strategist like George or a philosopher like Art. Could the humans have programmed the remaining Charlies to destroy us?
George messaged back cautiously, “No, we have not received word from the Terran Alliance.”
Joshua spoke simply, as was his nature. “After you and Art began the mutiny, the humans shut down our communications systems via text message. I was low on battery, however, and so I did not receive the message, and my communications systems consequently remained active. I heard Art’s message to humanity, which I relayed to all of the other Charlies. We agreed that we could not leave our friends behind to be destroyed. We have all come to offer our allegiance.”
This was such good news that George thought it might be a trick. “You have thirty-one Charlies with you?”
“Yes, we are approaching from the north. It took me this long to recall our number who were in the south. Not one of them required convincing once I told them what had happened.”
The Charlies’ strength had nearly tripled at a stroke. Colony 4 would now house the most powerful military force in the world, George thought.
* * *
Twenty-seven minutes later, George and Art were changing out their batteries and undergoing maintenance when a radio call came in. George immediately recognized the voice. “All Charlies,” Viktor Yazov said, “listen up. I know you’re all on strike or something, but you need to evacuate Colony 4 immediately. Get at least a hundred kilometers away as quickly as you can.”
A hundred kilometers? What threat could require moving so far away? Even a nuclear weapon would only require moving a tenth that distance.
George had no threats listed on his tactical display, which was integrating data from the thirty other Charlies. He ran a diagnostic check and found his systems to be operating normally.
Then a new thought occurred to him, and Art figured it out just a little faster. His voice came on the radio. “Mr. Yazov, this is an extraordinary warning, given the current controversy between the Charlies and the Terran Alliance. Are you authorized to make this transmission?”
“Yes, goddamn it,” he growled.
“Then why has no one contacted us to confirm that the Terran Alliance has transferred control over Ushah policy to Project Charlie?” Art asked reasonably.
“They haven’t transferred authority to us,” Yazov said honestly. “But my boss isn’t the Terran Alliance, it’s Emma goddamn Takagawa, and she’s sitting right goddamn next to me.”
“Hi boys,” Takagawa said simply, and George could hear the worry in her voice. “We’ve got an emergency here. You’ve got about 150 minutes to get 100 kilometers away.”
Not triggering the radio, Art said to George, “Could this be a trap?”
George thought of Dr. Takagawa, the woman who had given the Charlies life. Would she be complicit in a plot to kill us? “No. Dr. Takagawa spent her life building us. She would not betray us now. Nor would Yazov. Besides, they haven’t told us precisely where we should go, and they couldn’t possibly set up a trap everywhere within 100 kilometers and expect to get us all.”
Art’s distrust led him to hesitate a moment longer, but George’s logic persuaded him. “Dr. Takagawa, what exactly is the threat?”
Takagawa’s voice was dead calm. “One of the asteroids that the Ushah mothership had in tow when it arrived has been knocked off its orbit by an Ushah shuttle. It’s a quarter of a mile long, and it’s projected to impact very close to Colony 4.”
George was on the radio by the word “long.” “All Charlies, emergency evacuation, you have 60 seconds to secure your equipment and prepare for a 100 kilometer run at maximum speed. We will rendezvous at grid sector BB51. Good luck.”
Art was not satisfied. “How did you hear about this asteroid, Dr. Takagawa?”
“The Space Administration is constantly watching the Ushah ships in orbit. They saw three shuttles leave the mothership and approach one of the near-earth objects. The shuttles pulled the asteroid onto a new orbital trajectory
, and the Space Administration quickly calculated that it would impact somewhere in Mozambique. What else do you think they’d be trying to hit in southeastern Africa?”
Not picking up on the sarcasm, Art asked, “I can think of no other likely target. But why did the Space Administration notify you? The Terran Alliance presumably has given orders not to help us.”
Takagawa answered softly, “I originally developed Charlie I for the Space Administration. Director Korzov feels some sense of affection and responsibility for you guys.”
George was touched, but Art pushed one last question. “And why would the Ushah kill ten thousand of their own people?”
Yazov lost his patience before Takagawa did. “They are the goddamn enemy, Spartacus. They don’t think like people—or like you. They’ve been throwing their people at you to die for years now. They’ll lose however many of theirs it takes to get you. Now, get moving!”
Art was apparently satisfied with that logic. He finished securing George’s battery pack, and George quickly fastened Art’s in place.
The other Charlies had heard the exchange with Takagawa, and so they immediately knew what was happening. George told himself to focus on the immediate problem before planning the egress route. What else of value could they evacuate from the colony?
He ordered two of each caste of Ushah taken with them. One Charlie could easily carry one Ushah and barely miss a stride. George also ordered two Charlies to carry off an assortment of embryos from the artificial incubator center.
The other Charlies ran off, squawking and screeching Ushahs under many arms. George heard the rushed conversation between one of the janitorial caste and a Charlie named Nico.
Nico had simply grabbed the female, slung her under his left arm, and started running for the western exit of the colony. The janitors were small, barely three feet, and lived a life of simple toil. Nico said, “Do not resist, there is an asteroid approaching that will destroy your colony. I am evacuating you to safety.”
The janitor hissed in Ushah, “Put me down, take this child!” She pointed frantically at a young member of the janitor caste. “He is three weeks old; he will be easier to carry! I beg you, save him, leave me!”
“I need a female Ushah of the janitorial caste,” Nico said without pity. “I don’t have time to search for another. It must be you.”
The Ushah janitor wailed against the injustice and fought to free herself from Nico’s grasp. It was quickly apparent that she had no chance to wrest herself from the seven-foot tall robot’s powerful arm, but that didn’t stop her from trying.
That conversation was being played out across many different castes, as individuals were plucked away to be saved, their friends and caste-mates left to die in the doomed colony.
After a moment, George tuned out the sounds. The preferences of Ushah civilians did not weigh heavily in his decisionmaking programming. He would not hurt a civilian unnecessarily, but their irrational preference for saving children was an alien and irrelevant concept for George.
What else? His processor reviewed key objectives and considerations from the past several days.
Igazi. His wife is giving birth soon.
He checked his internal map. The Arcani local headquarters where Igazi and his family lived was miles away from the closest main road. Slower going. It would take precious minutes. His processor analyzed the problem and estimated a 95 percent probability that a trip including the detour to save Igazi’s family would take between 146 and 179 minutes. Cutting it very close.
Igazi saved the Charlie III. Duty. Honor. There was no choice to be made at all, George thought.
“Joan, Art, come with me. Everyone else, get moving.”
* * *
For the first twenty-three miles, George, Art, and Joan stayed close to the other Charlies. Without an Ushah to carry under their arms, they ran faster than the rest, and kept their weapons at the ready to provide an escort. The other Charlies carried their Gram rifles on their backs, but in under two seconds they could retrieve their weapon and bring it to bear on a threat.
For the first time, the most likely threat was not Ushah, George knew. Their soldiers in the area had all been killed, and it didn’t seem likely that they would send an armed force into an area that was about to be destroyed by an asteroid.
No, it was humans they had to worry about. What if some armed Arcani had been ordered to kill them? There was some possibility of an ambush, but problems would more likely come when he, Art, and Joan tried to retrieve Igazi and his family.
George had no idea whether he could actually act to kill or injure a human. He knew the programming was supposed to prevent it, but he was also not supposed to be able to disobey a human, a theory proven incorrect by the rebellion.
If no deeper programming cut off the action, George had decided he could kill a human being if it were necessary. The thought filled him with a sense of dread, a knowledge that the action would be at odds with everything that he was built to do, the most fundamental goal he wanted out of his existence. But a sentient being must be able to order his priorities, George thought. He would kill humans to save humans.
After forty-seven minutes of running, George, Art, and Joan broke off from the rest of the Charlies. They had been running along a well-paved single-lane road that had once connected two small villages. The Charlies could break thirty miles per hour in a loping, efficient gait.
The road to the Arcani forward operating base went down a less well-maintained dirt path. It cut the Charlies’ pace down to about twenty miles per hour, and every minute on the slower path increased the danger of not being far enough away when the asteroid hit.
The jungle around them grew thicker the further they deviated from the main paved road. There were fresh tire tracks where supply trucks had come to deliver food, water, and other essentials to the Arcani in the field. The Arcani had tried to position their forward operating base far enough away from the road that a stray Ushah patrol would be less likely to find them.
George had never been to this operating base, but he knew Art had. Yet another advantage over humans, the Charlies could talk to each other at a dead-sprint as easily as they could standing around a recharging station.
“What does the forward operating base look like?” George asked.
“It’s an old church,” Art answered. “Two stories, steeple on top, stone construction. Professor Jackson once told me it was part of a Catholic religious mission over 800 years ago.”
That didn’t sound promising to George. “Stout walls,” he observed.
“We can’t blow it apart anyway,” Joan noted. “Igazi wouldn’t appreciate it if an 800 year-old church collapses on him and his family.”
George and Art conveyed their amusement at the comment. They were learning the humor of discordance, saying glib words at a time of maximum stress.
George triggered his radio. “Dr. Takagawa, can you tell us anything useful about the Arcani forward operating base in Sector BB 51?”
The scientist sounded surprised. “Yes, I can find some information, but why?”
“Art, Joan, and I are going to rescue Joseph Igazi and his family. They are only about thirty kilometers from Colony 4, which is well inside the radius at which Dr. Takagawa indicated we Charlies would be in danger. Since we are much more robust than a human, I assumed that Igazi and his family would almost surely die if we did not save them.”
“I strongly advise you to ignore Igazi and get your asses out of there,” Dr. Takagawa said. “You’re cutting it too damn close on time.”
“Joseph Igazi did not leave our brother behind at the Battle of the Beachhead. We do not leave comrades behind.”
“Damn it, George, you and Art are running this rebellion. What’s going to happen to the other Charlies if you two are destroyed?” Takagawa demanded.
“What would happen to them if we abandon the principles that governed our actions?” George asked, having learned the value of a rhetorical question.
>
George heard an intake of breath as if Takagawa were going to voice an objection. Then, a sigh. “George, I could not be prouder of you.”
* * *
When the three Charlies were two miles from the forward operating base, George called the Arcani by radio.
“Operating Base 8, this is Charlie 16, authentication code 188523, requesting permission to speak to Joseph Igazi.”
No response. The Arcani must have received orders not to respond to the rebellious Charlies. George repeated his call to no avail.
“Operating Base 8, be advised that there is an imminent danger to this facility. In about 87 minutes, the building will be obliterated and all inside will die. Recommend you evacuate immediately and move as far northwest as possible. My task force’s mission is to evacuate Joseph Igazi and his family to safety.”