The toys fell upon the human guests with Fury-given strength and tore them limb from limb, blood staining furry paws and stitched cloth limbs. There were screams of horror and panic as much-loved and trusted figures slaughtered men and women and laughed while they did it. The humans tried to fight, but they had no weapons, and were greatly outnumbered. They tried to flee, but there was nowhere to run to. The Furies controlled the only landing pads, and had destroyed the few human ships waiting there. People tried to hide, but the toys always found them, and dragged them out into the open so that their deaths could be enjoyed by all.
But not all the toys went rogue. Some still remembered their original character, and simply became more real versions of what they had always been. Created to play the part of Humanity's friends and defenders, they broke from Shub's programming and took up their roles in reality. Created to love and care for their charges, some toys were sickened by the slaughter and fought their fellow toys to stop it. And some, now that they were free, refused to obey any orders, even Shub's, and went their own way.
All too soon, all the humans on Shannon's World were dead. The rogue AIs on Shub looked on their work and were pleased. The toys warred with each other then, good toy against bad, an endless struggle fueled by rage and hatred and unadmitted guilt. The Furies watched, somewhat disconcerted. This was not what had been planned.
It had been expected that they would supply the toys with Shub ships, and they would then leave Shannon's World to attack Humanity's other worlds. Shub's new terror-weapon—death and horror made from humankind's own most-loved creations.
But by now the toys were split in two. On the one side, those determined to wipe out all Humanity, before they could make the toys into slaves again, and punish them for their rebellion. These toys hated humankind, for being inferior, for making them only property. They wanted to be free and glorious, like the Furies who brought them the gift of reason.
On the other side, toys who saw Humanity as their parents and creators, who loved them even after they stopped being children. These toys still remembered men and women as the tired and hurt patients they soothed and loved and cared for. And so war came to Shannon's World, as toy fought toy in endless battles. Shub had made them well, and they did not die easily. One side fought to leave the planet and spread its death and terror among Humanity, and the other side fought to stop them, and protect Humanity. The Furies eventually left. They had other work to do, and were not unhappy with what they had achieved.
And so Shannon's World became Haceldama, the Field of Blood.
"The war goes on," said Bruin Bear sadly, as he led the rebel party across the wide grassy plain. "The bad toys greatly outnumber the good, but as long as we keep them from leaving this world, we're winning. Few humans come here now, and most of them die quickly. Some even kill themselves when they see the awful thing Shub has done. That's why the Goat and I came to meet you. So you could see that not all the toys had forsaken you."
"And to try and get you to what passes for safety here, before the bad toys turned up and showed you what your own insides looked like," said the Sea Goat. "I know what you're thinking. You've got guns and swords. You're tough guys. It wouldn't make any difference. We're really hard to kill these days. In the end, you'd have died screaming, just like the others. And I've heard too much screaming in my time."
"Don't think my friend is exaggerating," said the Bear. "The bad toys wouldn't care how much damage they took from your guns or swords. They'd just keep coming, wave after wave, till all of you were dead. They hate you so very much."
"And you don't hate us?" said Evangeline.
"Of course not. I don't hate anyone. I'm Bruin Bear. And the Sea Goat… means well."
"Thanks a whole bunch," said the Goat. "You'll be telling them I've got a heart of gold next. Pin a medal on me, why don't you?"
"Where exactly are you taking us?" said Julian. He was rubbing at his forehead in a slow, bothered way.
"We're going to Toystown," said the Bear. "You'll be safe there. If anywhere can be said to be safe now, in Summerland."
"Bear, you can name your own price, but we have got to do an interview," said Toby Shreck. "This story has everything! Death, pathos, tragedy, and new AIs! A whole new form of intelligent artificial life! The first independent nonhuman intelligence since the rogue AIs went to Shub. This is history, people. Flynn, film everything. We'll edit it later."
"No problem," said Flynn. "I've got plenty of storage space. Oh, wait a minute. I do not believe this."
They all paused at the top of a ridge and looked down. In the bottom of a valley, a brightly colored, steam-driven, child-sized train and carriages was waiting for them. The train was scarlet and black, with a big happy face on the front, puffing steam from his funnel in a cheerful sort of way. The open carriages were all different colors, bright and shining, none of them more than eight feet long, the seats just big enough to take four people. Gleaming silver railway tracks stretched away into the distance. The train looked up at the party on the ridge, winked one great eye, and tooted welcomingly. Bruin Bear waved a paw in return. Finlay opened his mouth two or three times, and then shook his head firmly.
"Forget it. I am not going anywhere on that. I'd rather walk. Hell, I'd rather crawl. I have my dignity to think of. I have a hard-won reputation as a cold-blooded assassin and a desperate warrior. One glimpse of me in Toby's film, perched in one of those carriages with my knees up in my face, and no one will ever take me seriously again!"
Bruin Bear scratched his furry head. "I'm afraid this is the only means of transport available. There was a yellow-brick road once, but it was destroyed in the war. Besides, it never really went anywhere. It was just for show. These days, the smaller toys sometimes beg rides on the larger ones, but mostly we just walk. There are the aeroplanes, of course, but they never come down anymore. They don't fight. They just fly. Forever in the sky, high above the world, far from the war and its troubles. Only the railway remains in use, and even that isn't sacrosanct. Both sides have been known to dig up the rails, when there's an advantage to be gained. The way should be clear now, but I can't vouch for how long. So I really do recommend we leave. Now."
"Shift it," said the Sea Goat, glaring at all the humans impartially. "Or I'll molt on you."
Finlay glared at Toby and Flynn. "This particular part of our journey had better be very carefully edited. Or I will personally edit both of you with a blunt hacksaw."
Toby looked at Flynn. "I think he means it." Flynn nodded solemnly.
The Bear led them down the grassy verge to the railway tracks and helped the rebels settle themselves into the undersized carriages. It was surprisingly comfortable, once you got used to sitting with your knees in your face. The train was called Edwin, and had a high, cheerful voice. He chattered happily away about nothing in particular until the passengers were in place, and then he tooted his whistle several times, just for the hell of it, and set off down the tracks. It was a bumping, banging ride, even though Edwin couldn't build much speed, and the carriages lurched back and forth as though they were at sea. There were no safety belts, so the rebels clung grimly to the sides of the carriages and each other. Bruin Bear tried to reassure them that the ride had been designed to be completely safe, and the rebels tried to look like they believed him. The Sea Goat just grinned sardonically. Edwin the train was shy at first, but once he realized they didn't mind his talking to them, they couldn't get him to shut up.
"Good to be carrying passengers again," he said contentedly. "I mean, what use is a train, unless he's carrying people somewhere? The other toys are very good, and let me take them for short rides now and again, when they can spare the time, but it's not the same. They don't care where they're going. And they're not people. I need to be doing something, something useful. I was designed to be of use, to fulfill a function, not just sit around thinking. Which is overrated, in my opinion. Thinking just gets in the way of a regular service. I chuff, therefore I am. And that'
s all I need to be happy. But even apart from that, I am glad to see humans again. I missed you terribly. You were always so happy when I took you places. Laughing and shouting and pointing at things. You were all so happy, then.
"Then the bad toys came, and dug up my rails so I had to stop. They pulled my passengers out of the carriages and killed them. I wanted to stop the bad toys, but there was nothing I could do. They were fast and strong, and I couldn't leave my rails. I didn't even have any hands. I blew out steam, to keep the bad toys at bay, but I could only protect myself. Too much steam would only have hurt the passengers anyway.
"I shut my eyes so I wouldn't see them die, but I could still hear the screams. They seemed to go on forever. Afterward, the bad toys left me alone. They were afraid I'd explode if they damaged me. I could have exploded anyway, and taken them with me, but I didn't. I was afraid. I'd only been alive for such a short time, and I was so scared of dying.
"Bruin Bear saved me. He got my tracks repaired and started me running again. Found things that needed moving from one place to another. Gave my life meaning and purpose again. He does things like that. He's Bruin Bear, after all. And now I have human passengers again. I can't tell you how happy I am. And this time, I will be brave. I promise I will. I'll die before I let another of my passengers come to harm."
"Don't try and comfort him," said the Goat, when Edwin's voice became choked with tears. "He just gets morbid, and tears make him rust. Pick up the speed, Edwin. The sooner we get to Toystown, the happier I'll be. This is disputed territory, and you humans wouldn't believe some of the things that are disputing it."
"Don't you listen to him, Edwin," Bruin Bear said firmly. "You're going quite fast enough as it is. We'll have no showing off your sudden accelerations this trip. Remember what happened last time."
"Don't worry, Bear," said the train. "I'll be good. I've got people on board again." And he sang a merry song and chuffed and tootled his way across the grassy plain.
He kept his speed at a constant twenty, and after a while the rebels became somewhat accustomed to the lurching motion of the carriages. Giles even came close to dozing off. There was nothing to do, and very little to look at. One grassy plain looks much like another. There were no trees, no vegetation, and no sign the war had ever got this far. Just endless oceans of waving grass, cut through by silver tracks. Flynn suggested a friendly game of cards, but after seeing the more than professional way he shuffled the cards, everyone politely declined. And so the rebels and the toys maintained a polite silence, each deep in his own thoughts. Finlay suddenly remembered something he'd been meaning to ask and leaned forward so his face was opposite the Bear's.
"Who buried the recon team's pinnace? And why?"
"We did," said the Bear. "The Goat and I. We arrived too late to save the humans, but we were able to drive the bad toys off before they could get to the ship. The Goat can be quite ferocious when he has to be. And he was almost mad with rage then, to see so many humans dead again. We wrecked the ship's engines, and then buried it, to put it out of temptation's way. The bad toys are desperate to get offworld, you see, and take their war to Humanity. I'd like to have buried or at least concealed your ship, but there wasn't time. We can always do it later."
"Don't worry," said Finlay. "There are all kinds of unpleasant booby traps waiting for anyone who doesn't have the right warm-up codes."
Bruin Bear shook his head admiringly. "You humans. So tricky. But I wouldn't be too confident. Some toys have learned to be tricky, too."
He didn't seem to have anything to add to that, so Finlay sat back in his seat. Somehow Julian had managed to get the seat next to him, rather than Evangeline, and the younger esper leaned over and murmured urgently in Finlay's ear.
"Pardon me for being paranoid, but aren't we being just a tiny bit too trusting here, Finlay? I mean, how do we know these are the good guys? Just because they say so, and look cuddly? Just because this thing opposite us looks like a character we all knew and loved in our childhood, we shouldn't forget that it is by its own admission basically just a rogue AI originally created and programmed by Shub. For all we know, he could be taking us to some mass sacrificial slaughter, where they could all take turns at us, while we lasted."
"No," said Finlay calmly. "I don't think so. Bruin Bear wouldn't do that. If he wanted us dead, he and the Goat have had plenty of opportunities. All they've done so far is talk and smile us to death. Besides, if you can't trust Bruin Bear, who can you trust?"
And then they both rocked in their seats as Edwin cut his speed suddenly, slowing almost to a crawl. All the humans looked ahead, but couldn't see anything. Bruin Bear stood up in his seat, and stared ahead, one paw shading his eyes. "What is it, Edwin?"
"The tracks are out, some way ahead. Someone's dug them up again."
"I can't see anything," said Finlay.
"Our eyes were designed to be more than human," said the Sea Goat. "We can see for miles."
"I can see it," said Giles. "It doesn't look too bad. Can we repair it?"
"Oh sure," said Edwin. "I always carry spares these days. Just in case. With you humans to help, we should be finished inside an hour."
"Okay," said Bruin Bear. "Take us as far as you safely can, and then stop." He sat down again, frowning heavily. The expression looked out of place on his round furry face. "I don't like this," he said suddenly to Finlay and Julian. "There's no reason for anyone to dig up the tracks all the way out here, except to interrupt our journey. And since Edwin, the Goat, and I are not all that important, it can only mean that the bad toys know about you. Which could mean we are in deep doo-doo."
Finlay looked around him. The grassy plains stretched away in every direction, open and empty and innocent. "Seems safe enough."
The Bear growled suddenly, deep in his throat. It was a dark, disturbing sound. "Never take that for granted. Not in Summerland. Nothing is necessarily what it seems anymore."
"Including you?"
"Including me. I'm not innocent anymore."
The train slowly eased to a halt, in a cloud of steam. Bruin Bear and the Sea Goat jumped off and hurried forward. The humans got off more slowly, secretly glad for a chance to stretch their legs and ease aching posteriors. The train and its carriages had not been designed for long journeys. The Bear signaled for them to stay where they were while he and the Goat examined the damage. Edwin vented steam nervously, and then apologized. Bruin Bear leaned over the dug-up tracks and studied them thoughtfully. Half a dozen sleepers had been broken apart, and the pieces scattered. Where they had been was now a shallow pit in the grass. Dark loose earth showed clearly, rough and disturbed. The Bear knelt beside it. The Sea Goat frowned, and half reached out a hand to pull his friend back.
"Not too close. Bear. I've got a bad feeling about this."
"You've always got a bad feeling about things."
"And I'm usually right."
The Bear looked back at the Goat, exasperated, and that was when the cloth hand burst up out of the broken earth and fastened around his ankle. Bruin Bear cried out in shock and alarm, and then toppled over backwards. He tried to scramble away, and the owner of the hand came rising up out of the pit it had dug under the tracks, squirming out of the loose earth like a maggot from an apple. It was a rag doll, stitched together from hundreds of different-colored patches, but there was metal in it, too, great steel staples holding it together like some ragged Frankenstein creature. Its cloth face crumpled with rage and hatred as it looked across at the humans by the train, and then its mouth stretched wide, stitches tearing apart, and it screamed. There was enough human emotion in the artificial voice—a horrid implacable howl of fury and eternal enmity—to chill the soul.
Bruin Bear kicked his foot as hard as he could, but couldn't break free. The rag doll pulled itself over him as he struggled, and raised a cloth hand holding a long machete. The doll snarled at the Bear, and then swung the machete down with savage speed. It was only a few inches from Bear's head when the en
ergy bolt from a disrupter tore the cloth arm away from its body, and sent the burning arm flying through the air, still clutching its machete. The Sea Goat stuffed the gun back inside his trench coat, and hurried forward. The Bear and the doll were still struggling furiously. Bruin Bear rolled over suddenly, pulling the doll beneath him, and sharp metal claws erupted from his paws. He tore into the rag doll with vicious strength, and shreds of cloth flew through the air. The Goat had almost reached them when the earth under the broken tracks boiled and seethed, and a dozen more rag dolls came clawing up out of the ground, like the undead from their graves.
"Don't just stand there!" Edwin the train cried to the stunned humans. "Do something! Help them!"
"What the hell," said Finlay, starting forward with his sword in his hand. "Anyone who hates Bruin Bear has to be one of the bad guys."
The others moved quickly after him, and soon a battle was raging furiously around the dug-up tracks. The rag dolls were incredibly strong and unbelievably limber, their limbs and bodies bending at impossible angles as they launched their attacks. They all had swords and machetes of some kind, the jagged blades crusted with old dried blood. The rebels' swords cut deep into the cloth bodies and out again, but did no harm. Stuffing flew on the air, but the rag dolls just smiled their awful smiles and kept pressing forward. They bobbed and weaved in horrible contortions, attacking without pause for breath, filled with an endless savagery. Julian stabbed one where its heart should have been, and the doll just snarled at him, pulling itself along the blade to get at him. Julian put his foot against the doll's yielding chest and forced it away as he withdrew his blade. The doll grabbed at his ankle, and he had to jump back to avoid its grasp. It came after him, grinning remorselessly, and Julian wondered where the hell he could hit the damned thing and do some damage.
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