Blood and Iron p-2

by Tony Ballantyne

  ‘Of course, Honoured Commander.’

  Using her other hand, La-Ver-Di-Arussah took the sword from the floor, resheathed it, bowed, and then retrieved her hand. Just as she was leaving, Wa-Ka-Mo-Do called to her.

  ‘One last thing, La-Ver-Di-Arussah. What do you know of the city of Ell?’

  ‘Ell, Honoured Commander? What do you mean?’

  She was hiding something, Wa-Ka-Mo-Do knew it.

  ‘It is nothing,’ he said.

  La-Ver-Di-Arussah left, pushing her way through the leather curtain.

  Ka-Lo-Re-Harballah waited until she was out of earshot and then turned to his commander, eyes glowing in awe.

  ‘Honoured Commander. Such speed-’

  ‘Do you know who this is?’ interrupted Wa-Ka-Mo-Do, pointing to the dead soldier.

  ‘Zil-Wa-Tem. Originally from Ka.’

  Ka. Wa-Ka-Mo-Do had a momentary thought of Jai-Lyn.

  ‘Ka,’ he repeated. ‘Look at this leather, look how carefully it has been stitched to make this skin. Who can have done this?’

  ‘There is a whole market full of people out there who could have done it,’ said Ka-Lo-Re-Harballah.

  ‘Yes. But some of them will know.’

  Wa-Ka-Mo-Do stared at the dead robot. Zil-Wa-Tem’s coil was cut, his eyes dim. Someone had pushed an awl up into his mind, tangling and shorting the twisted metal there.

  ‘I really don’t understand!’ said Ka-Lo-Re-Harballah in despair. ‘Where is this dissent coming from? The robots of Sangrel province are woven to be loyal. For generations loyal parents have woven loyalty into their children.

  ‘But loyalty to whom?’ asked Wa-Ka-Mo-Do, thoughtfully. ‘Loyalty to their Emperor, or to Sangrel, or to themselves?’

  He came to a decision.

  ‘Ka-Lo-Re-Harballah, fetch two trusted soldiers. Strip this robot and then disassemble his body, carry it from this place. Then I want you to return here and take the skin. Carry it, carefully concealed, around the market, looking for robots who stitch leather for a trade, and show it to them, and when you show it to them, watch their reaction.’

  ‘Understood, Honoured Commander.’

  ‘I will return to the Copper Master’s house to think.’

  Wa-Ka-Mo-Do rose to his feet. As he made to leave Ka-Lo-Re-Harballah called out to him.

  ‘Honoured Commander?’

  ‘Yes Ka-Lo-Re-Harballah?’

  ‘Are we right not to tell the Emperor what has happened here?’

  ‘Would you prefer that we take arms against this market place, Ka-Lo-Re-Harballah?’

  The young robot didn’t say anything.

  ‘Then there is your answer.’

  Kavan

  The following day dawned tinged in silver. The strange light from the night before hung in the air, turning the rocks to the colour of metal. Kavan stood in a land of frozen mercury, solidified as it poured from the sky. The snow glinted oddly like quartz in neon.

  Calor appeared before Kavan, her bright body covered in scratches. Melting snow dripped from her body.

  ‘There’s a trap ahead, Kavan,’ she said.

  ‘How far?’

  ‘Less than a mile. There’s a bridge, the biggest I’ve ever seen. It crosses between two mountains. Several Scouts have gone across it, none have come back.’

  ‘Can you see anything on the far side?’

  ‘Movement. I can’t tell what.’ Calor looked around and buzzed. ‘What’s happened to the moon, Kavan?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  He looked around for Ada. She was balancing on one leg, holding onto the wall of the road with one hand as she fiddled with her foot with the other.

  ‘Ada,’ he called. ‘What do you know about a bridge ahead?’

  ‘The Evening Bridge,’ she said. ‘It marks the border of Born.’

  Kavan looked back to Calor.

  ‘They will guard their border. Whether they mean to attack us or allow us to pass remains to be seen. Come on, let’s go and see.’

  Kavan stood near the start of the bridge, looking at the biggest bolt he had ever seen. It was screwed into a wide metal plate riveted into the black rock. Red paint covered the large mushroom rivets that held the construction against the mountainside. Turning around, Kavan saw a huge red pipe looping up into the air, arching out over the sheer drop of the chasm by which they stood, and then dropping down to the pier of stone that rose from the centre of the chasm, a stepping stone between the mountains. Another red pipe did the same in parallel, a hundred feet away. And suspended beneath these two pipes, a road.

  It was a bridge, but a bridge like none that Kavan had ever seen before.

  ‘How come we never saw anything like this when we conquered these mountains?’

  ‘We never came this far west,’ answered Calor.

  ‘They have to keep it painted,’ said Ada, ‘or the iron would just flake away.’

  ‘How do they do it?’ wondered Kavan.

  ‘Magnetic feet,’ said Ada.

  He gazed across the bridge, felt the wind whipping through his body.

  ‘It would be the easiest thing to defend the far side.’

  ‘Then what shall we do?’ asked Calor.

  ‘I’ll cross,’ said Kavan. ‘Perhaps they will speak to me.’

  ‘And if they don’t?’

  ‘The Uncertain Army will find its own way south. Ada can guide it out of the mountains, and after that Nyro’s will shall prevail.’

  ‘I’ll come with you, Kavan,’ said Calor. Kavan looked at the Scout, saw how she twitched and buzzed.

  ‘No, Calor. I need you to stay and organize the Scouts. Don’t let any more of them across.’

  ‘Okay, Kavan.’

  Kavan stepped onto the bridge. So much metal, it was a wonder it hadn’t been taken and twisted into more minds and robots. Whoever guarded it must be strong indeed.

  He began to walk, listening to the wind singing through the struts and cables, looking down at the peaks below him, wrapped in clouds and mist. This would be a clear blue morning, were it not for the fading silver light that filled the sky. Now Kavan reached the central pier: an island of stone on which an iron and brick support for the bridge had been built. He looked down. There were buildings there, clustered on this island in the sky, and on the roof of one, the silver body of a Scout lay, unmoving. Someone would retrieve the metal later, one way or another.

  Now he moved on to the second span. He saw movement ahead. Figures on the other side of the bridge. More and more of them, crowding in. Robots, but oddly built. Too tall, too thin.

  Kavan walked on. A robot detached itself from the group ahead and came forward onto the bridge to meet him. They met halfway across the second span, standing in the wind above the swirling mists below, the silver light fading from the sky above them.

  ‘You are Kavan, and behind you is your army.’

  ‘Sort of,’ said Kavan. ‘They may become my army. Will you join us or fight us?’

  ‘I haven’t yet decided.’

  Kavan looked at the other robot. It was much taller and thinner than he was. Its limbs seemed to bend like springs when it moved, and Kavan wondered how it would look climbing from rock to rock up here in the mountains, how it would swing its body from ledge to ledge.

  ‘Who are you?’ he asked.

  ‘My name is Goeppert.’

  ‘Are you the leader of these troops?’

  ‘They aren’t troops, and I am not their leader. A robot must follow the path woven into its own mind. Some paths lead up into the mountains, and some down to the plains-’

  ‘No,’ said Kavan. ‘I have marched from the top to the bottom of this continent, and I have conquered all that I have seen. I’ve heard robots issue challenges, I’ve heard robots plead for mercy, and I have heard robots spout philosophy. It all means nothing to me in the end. Tell me who you are, Goeppert.

  ‘I am a Speaker. Some days ago another army came through these mountains. A small group of Artemisians. They
were fleeing a robot named Kavan, they said that he might follow them down this path. They gave us much metal. Gold and silver, platinum, lead. Metals that we do not often see in these mountains. They promised us more if we were to fight him, should he come this way.’

  ‘And what did you say?’

  ‘We promised that we would, and we took the metal.’

  Kavan shifted, his left side squeaking.

  ‘I would have promised the same,’ he said. ‘That way I would have the metal. So you will fight us?’

  Goeppert held his gaze.

  ‘We don’t know. Promises made to lowlanders mean nothing.’

  Silence in the silver light.

  ‘Then will you let us pass?’

  ‘What would you offer us if we were to do so?’

  ‘The chance to follow Nyro. I go to take control of Artemis.’

  ‘And if we allowed you to pass, but we chose to remain here?’

  ‘Then I would take my army to Artemis. If I were successful in my conquest I would someday return here and conquer this land.’

  Goeppert smiled.

  ‘I think you might find that more difficult than you would imagine. Even so, I appreciate your honesty. The world is not an honest place at the moment. Even the sky is wrong.’

  ‘Zuse flared last night,’ said Kavan. ‘I’ve never seen that before. Is it a feature of these mountains?’

  ‘No.’

  Kavan said nothing.

  ‘Do you know the whales are dying?’ said Goeppert, suddenly.

  Kavan was little unsettled by this change in the conversation. ‘The whales?’ he said. ‘What do you know about whales, living up here in the mountains?’

  ‘We listen to their songs. They are in constant communication with each other. Didn’t you know this?’

  Kavan didn’t care.

  ‘Goeppert, I travel with an Uncertain Army. It will follow me forwards, it will not go backwards, and if it stands still for too long it will simply evaporate to nothing. I cannot afford to stand here all day, so tell me, will you fight me, or let me pass?’

  Goeppert didn’t say a word, but somewhere behind him, somewhere out in the land of Born, robots were detaching themselves from the mountainside, coming into view, forming themselves into lines on the road beyond the bridge.

  ‘Both,’ said Goeppert. ‘For the moment we will let you pass. We will even give you troops to accompany you. They will learn how to fight, and maybe return here with more metal from the plains.’

  ‘Good,’ said Kavan.

  ‘The robots who return here will be stronger for having travelled. They will bring us new knowledge that we will put to use.’

  Kavan understood. ‘You seek to temper yourself further.’ He looked back to the far side of the bridge where his troops waited. ‘I feel no such need.’

  Spoole

  Spoole gazed at the map of the city.

  ‘Is this the best they could do?’ he asked.

  ‘They did well, given the time they had available,’ said General Sandale reprovingly.

  Spoole doubted it. Someone had taken a sheet of polished steel and engraved a map upon it. The Basilica was a rectangle in the centre, the forges clustered around it. Beyond it was Half-fused City, the railway stations, the goods yards, the chemical tanks, the construction yards, the making rooms, the barracks, the gasometers and cable walks… All the signs of a busy city. Beyond all that, there was a planned outline of the defences.

  He looked at the lines of the trenches, represented on the map. They were well laid out, offering clear, overlapping lines of fire. The railway lines picked their way through them, offering an effective way of keeping the front lines stocked with ammunition.

  ‘We thought of running lines out beyond the defences,’ said Sandale. ‘Fill a load of wagons with guns and send them out to fire a broadside into Kavan’s troops.’

  ‘It would only work once, but it could be effective. Still,’ he said grudgingly, ‘the overall plan looks workable.’

  But will it be enough? he wondered. He had seen the way the troops had retreated back in the mountains. Kavan hadn’t even had a proper army then. If he reached Artemis City, and he would, then he would do so with troops hardened by the march, and tempered by the fighting they would have been forced into on the way.

  Still, Spoole was fighting from his home territory. The land beyond the city was mined, the trenches could be flooded with petrol, trains could be loaded with explosives and sent running on railway lines buried beneath the sand and soil of the plain towards the attacking troops.

  That thought gave Spoole pause. Once Artemis City had been connected to the continent by railway lines. Now those joins were severed, the city cut off from the rest of Shull. What were they doing, he wondered. Surely this wasn’t Nyro’s will?

  He wasn’t a superstitious robot, none of the Artemisians were; it wasn’t woven into their minds. Nonetheless, he remembered the lights in the sky from the night before, the way that Zuse had lit up. The whole city had stopped work, robots had thronged the streets looking to the skies whilst fires burned unattended in forges and robots remained half assembled.

  He pushed the thought from his mind and turned his attention back to the job in hand.

  ‘We need to do something about the aerial masts,’ said Spoole, pointing to the map. ‘Kavan could take them out easily, and thus cut off our communications.’

  He scanned the map.

  ‘Here,’ he pointed. ‘The northern quarters. Demolish this sector and move the aerials there. They’ll be safe behind the forges and the garrisons.’

  He looked up, saw Sandale and the other Generals exchanging looks.

  ‘Well?’ he said. ‘What’s the matter with you?’

  ‘Spoole, that’s where we are quartered. Don’t you think our capacity to lead will be severely reduced if we cannot guarantee our bodies are in working order?’

  ‘Surely we will be quartered here, in the Basilica?’ said Spoole. ‘A little privation during the course of the conflict is normal, surely?’

  General Sandale took a long rod of iron and pointed.

  ‘I suggest we relocate the aerials here, just a little closer to the city than their current position. We leave the area where they stood empty. It should give a good line of fire on any robot that tries to attack across the ground there.’

  Spoole inspected the map.

  ‘It’s not that bad an idea,’ he admitted, ‘but what’s to stop Kavan simply moving his troops onto the land and occupying it?’

  The Generals exchanged looks once more.

  ‘Nonetheless,’ said Sandale, ‘we think this is a better idea.’

  ‘Since when was this a democracy?’

  ‘Since your decisions began to lose their effectiveness.’

  Long ago, Spoole had seen the mugger snakes of Stark, watched them as they slipped out of their bore holes to capture a passing insect. They didn’t move that quickly, but they moved with an ease and assurance that meant they could often capture their prey before it was aware of the movement. Spoole moved in the same manner now, he had his hand behind General Sandale’s neck before the soldier knew what was happening.

  ‘You’ve lost your edge, General,’ said Spoole. He dragged a finger down Sandale’s chest panelling, scratching it.

  ‘And you are losing yours, Spoole,’ said Sandale. ‘Enough of this charade. Let me go.’

  He had pushed a magnetic bomb against Spoole’s chest.

  ‘It’s not armed,’ he said, ‘but if it were, it would freeze your body before you could harm my coil.’ He smiled to the other robots. ‘There’s a time for action, and a time for thought.’

  ‘Want to try it?’ asked Spoole. ‘Put it to the test?’

  ‘There’s no need,’ said General Sandale. ‘Your moment has passed Spoole. Other arrangements have already been made.’

  ‘What arrangements?’ asked Spoole.

  ‘Troop deployments,’ said General Sandale. ‘We have a pla
n.’

  Again the Generals looked at each other.

  ‘I think its time we told you,’ said General Sandale. ‘Come with me, Spoole.’

  Wondering, Spoole followed General Sandale from the room.

  He was heading for the topmost level of the Basilica. For the staterooms. Spoole’s own quarters were located up here, along with the radio centre. Spoole wondered if this was when the coup would finally happen. Still, he walked on.

  He was Artemisian to the core. Whether by Kavan, or by San-dale and his cronies, if he was overthrown by other Artemisians, then that would be the will of Artemis.

  Susan

  The women filed into the lecture room.

  ‘Where’s Nettie?’ asked Susan.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said the woman next to her, forgetting her old hatred for Susan. She too was unsettled by the stranger standing in Nettie’s place, preparing to give the morning lecture. Susan and her neighbour held each other’s gaze for a moment. Life had become almost comfortable in Artemis City. What did this change signify?

  The new woman at the front smiled brightly. ‘Good Afternoon, ladies! My name is Gretel, and I’m here to show you a new pattern.’

  Susan raised her hand. ‘Where’s Nettie?’ she asked.

  ‘Reassigned. Now, I am here to talk about a pattern of mind that has recently been resurrected by the women of Artemis. We call it the half fuse.’

  ‘The half fuse? Like Half-fused City?’

  Half-fused City was the old quarter, it lay not that far from the making rooms. The women tended to avoid it. It was against the rules to talk, but the women were regarded as mothers of Artemis now, and that gave them some leeway. There was a buzz as they discussed the half fuse: what did it mean? Was it moral? All of them but Susan, who was gazing at the metal floor, wondering about Nettie, wondering about her friend.

  ‘The half fuse,’ said Gretel. ‘Maximum power and longevity backed up with just sufficient intelligence. Imagine the robot that would power! Strong, capable of following orders to the glory of Artemis.. .’

  This was the mind that Nettie had begun to show them, realized Susan. But why would anyone want to make such a mind? What sort of society would this be? Strong, but nearly unthinking? What would be the point in it?