Blood and Iron (29 page)

‘Now!’ he shouted.

The soldiers jumped forward, surprising the saboteurs, firing once, twice. They dropped their petrol canisters. Wa-Ka-Mo-Do drew his sword and slashed down at a third robot. The saboteurs were efficiently dispatched.

‘Stop!’ he commanded, holding the blade of his sword before a soldier’s raised gun. ‘We need at least one to question.’

The hum of current died away, leaving the robots standing amongst the broken stalks. Broken bodies lay around them, the living still squealing in electronic pain. As for the dead: twisted metal uncoiled across the ground. Wa-Ka-Mo-Do suddenly realized just how pathetic these people were. Their panelling was of cheap tin, they hummed and buzzed as they moved. They sounded as if their electromuscles were full of dust and dirt. He could see how poorly repaired they were, and he wondered when they had last seen the inside of a forge.

‘On your knees,’ shouted a soldier, pushing the captive down. She reached out and unfastened one arm, whilst another soldier did the same on the other side.

‘Please don’t kill me,’ begged the saboteur on the ground. ‘My husband, my children—’

‘Silence,’ said Wa-Ka-Mo-Do. He didn’t feel any particular anger towards this being. Rather he felt pity; pity at her circumstances, at what she had been reduced to.

‘How many more of you are there?’ he demanded.

‘There were twelve of us, Honoured Commander.’

‘Why do you act in this fashion?’

‘We have no land, Honoured Commander. We have no purpose, no place to go. We wanted someone to heed our situation. The Emperor is merciful and wise and just. He will surely act when he is aware of our plight!’

‘You seek to sabotage his lands!’

‘We meant no harm to the Emperor! You must believe me! We only harm the humans’ possessions.’

‘And risk the Emperor losing face in doing so?’

The saboteur looked at the floor in shame.

‘Honoured Commander!’

One of the soldiers was holding up a metal canister. There was something very peculiar about its shape.

‘Is that of human construction?’ asked Wa-Ka-Mo-Do.

‘I think so. It’s what they were using to carry the petrol.’

Wa-Ka-Mo-Do turned back to the captive.

‘More dishonour! Where did you steal that from?’

‘Honoured Commander! I swear we did not! It was waiting for us at the edge of the fields, as we were told it would be.’

Wa-Ka-Mo-Do took hold of the can and felt the metal with his hand. It reminded him a little of the chain Rachael had worn: good quality metal but poorly constructed.

‘Who told you it would be there?’

‘We never got to see our intermediary.’

‘No, you wouldn’t.’ Wa-Ka-Mo-Do was silent. He looked down at the woman before him. She had mentioned a husband and children. ‘You realize the penalty for your crime is death?’

The woman said nothing. She looked so pathetic, kneeling there, her arms removed, her tin body filled with dust and dirt.

‘Though it gives me no pleasure to carry out the execution, I have nothing but sympathy for you.’

Wa-Ka-Mo-Do was merciful indeed. His sword had struck as he spoke these last words. The saboteur was dead before she was even aware of it. Wa-Ka-Mo-Do gazed down at her.

‘Bring the metal back to the city,’ he said.

‘What about the petrol canister, Honoured Commander?’

‘Bring that too. But conceal it.’

He looked at it again, puzzled.

‘Someone is using these people. There is more to this than a few upset farmers, I am sure. Who is behind all this?’

‘Commander?’

‘Nothing.’

They waited at the edge of the fields for the rest of the soldiers to rejoin them.

‘All this way for a few peasants,’ said Wa-Ka-Mo-Do as the captain took his place at his side.

‘It could have been serious had they caused any damage, Honoured Commander.’

‘Perhaps. I can’t help thinking that was not the primary reason I was brought here.’

He looked northwards, back to Sangrel. It looked so beautiful, a copper sculpture beneath the silver stars.

‘Why am I here?’

‘Commander?’

‘All that is happening in Sangrel at the moment. In Yukawa . . . What’s that?’

It took a moment longer for the captain and the rest of the army to hear it: a thrumming, drumming noise.

‘It sounds like an army attacking the sky with their swords,’ said Wa-Ka-Mo-Do.

A low droning sounded, and then a pattern of lights awoke in the night.

‘Human machines,’ said the captain. ‘I’ve seen them before, in the distance.’

The noise grew louder, Wa-Ka-Mo-Do’s body reverberated to it.

‘They’re coming towards us.’

‘Not us,’ said Wa-Ka-Mo-Do. ‘They’re heading for Sangrel.’

Now he could make out dark shapes against the bright stars. Lumpy objects that hung sullenly in the sky, bristling with spikes.

‘They’re carrying guns,’ he realized. ‘Have these craft ever been seen around Sangrel before?’

‘No,’ said the captain.

‘You know,’ mused Wa-Ka-Mo-Do out loud. ‘All is harmony in the Empire . . .’ He knew it was a lie, but he wanted to follow this thought to the end. ‘But there are other lands on Penrose. Primitive, backward lands. Each inhabited by their own race of robots.’

‘Yes, Honoured Commander?’

They watched as the craft droned slowly past. The cockpits were illuminated by faint light, and they could just make out the shape of the animals sitting in there.

‘Even in the Empire there are those robots who dissent,’ continued Wa-Ka-Mo-Do. ‘Look at the events this night. The humans arrived here and we naturally assumed they are all of one tribe. But why should they be any different to us?’

He almost had it. The answer was almost there. The thought of Ell sprang into his mind, of the train taken over by the Silent Wind. What did the Emperor know that he wasn’t telling? It was obvious now.

‘What if there are several tribes of humans here?’

As he spoke, five flares lit themselves at the same time, five streaks of flame leaped from the flying craft, streaking forward towards the illuminated city on the mound to the north.

‘What are they?’ asked the captain. But they both knew the answer. Five explosions rumbled in the distance.

‘They’re attacking Sangrel,’ said Wa-Ka-Mo-Do.

Kavan

Artemis City sat in the middle of the wide plain of Artemis. The city was visible from miles away, its great bulk a brooding presence in the distance, a constant reminder of the ultimate power on the continent of Shull.

There was no avoiding the fact of its existence. By day, the sunlight reflected on the windows of the Centre City, black streamers of smoke pumped from the chimneys of the forges trailed across the sky. By night the lights of its streets sparkled like a diadem around the red and gold flames of the fires that burned hot in the brick foundries.

Artemis City, the biggest concentration of power and metal and force on the entire continent.

It seemed that most of the robots of Shull were converging on it, marching by day and night.

The city had become the target for every grievance, grudge and dream on the continent. Even the railway lines seemed affected: where once they had seemed to spread across the land, carrying Artemis across the continent, now they seemed to converge upon the city.

Kavan had divided the Uncertain Army into two wide columns. It had been his original intention to plunge the army straight into the heart of the city, but, in consultation with Ada, that plan had changed. Calor and the other Scouts had brought him word of other troops, also marching. There were robots heading towards the city from all directions. The remnants of Stark, armoured divisions who had long waged guerrilla war against Artemis from the central mountain range, were approaching the city from the west. A company had emerged from the sea near Turing City State and were marching north. And then there was Goeppert and the robots who had joined them from Raman and Born . . .

Kavan spoke a lot with Goeppert and Ada as they marched south, the Uncertain Army raising trails of dust into the bright sky. They were discussing tactics, constantly updating their plans on the basis of information brought to them by Calor and the rest.

It looked like it was going to be a siege, not that Kavan should have expected anything else from Spoole and the Generals. Actually, it was a sensible tactic on their part. They held the advantage. This land had long been stripped almost bare by Artemis. The little metal that remained was now being removed too. Kavan saw the last trains retreating ahead of them, loaded up with coal and ore and the disassembled parts of the few scattered forges and factories that had lain on this plain. After they had passed by, the railway lines themselves were taken up and pulled back into the city.

‘How much further?’ Kavan asked Calor.

‘One day’s travel. You’ll be there tonight.’

‘What will I find?’

‘There are three huge moats dug around the city, one inside the other. They have left troops marooned on the banks of the trenches, conscripts mostly.’

‘Good. If we lay bridges to them, then they will join us.’

‘There are Storm Troopers amongst them, Kavan. They will make them fight to the death, one way or another.’

‘Is there no way around the moats?’

‘None. The city is completely isolated. Beyond the trenches, they have built a wall of iron. One hundred feet high and twenty feet thick.’

‘It won’t be solid iron,’ laughed Ada. ‘That would be ten and a half million cubic feet of iron per mile!’

Calor glanced at Ada and buzzed in frustration.

‘Go on, Calor,’ said Kavan.

She turned back to Kavan. ‘Every three hundred feet there is a guard tower, and on each tower there are cannons.’

‘I wonder how the people within the city feel about that? They will know that hiding behind walls is not Nyro’s way.’

The morning was bright and still cold from the night. It felt good to march across the flat plain, electromuscles pleasantly cool, the ground firm beneath his feet. Despite the fact he had rarely been there, Kavan felt as if he was coming home. The other robots felt it too, he was sure. There were so many of them, they were marching with a purpose towards Artemis City. They could see it in the distance, like a ship sailing across a calm sea, trailing smoke behind it.

‘There are already soldiers taking up positions around the city,’ said Calor.

‘Where have they come from?’

‘Some of them are your own troops, Kavan. Scouts and infantry-robots who have gone ahead of the pack. Some of them have just turned up on their own.’

‘And what have the people in the city done?’

‘Nothing, as yet. A few stray shots, the odd canon shell.’

‘Then they’ve lost already,’ said Kavan. ‘If I were in that city I would have sent out a party of soldiers to wipe out small concentrations of the enemy before they had a chance to set up their positions. Why make things easy for them?’

‘They can’t come out,’ said Calor. ‘They are trapped behind their own moats.’

‘There are no drawbridges?’

‘There isn’t even a gate in their iron wall.’

‘Then they’ve not only locked us out, they’ve locked their own robots in.’

‘They’re not true Artemisians.’ said Calor.

‘No,’ said Kavan, but he was experiencing something very rare. Doubt. Spoole wasn’t a fool. Why would he trap himself like that? What were they planning in there?

Kavan had travelled a long way. Starting alone on the northern coast of Shull, he had walked over a thousand miles, through hills and valleys, over the mountains, and finally over this vast plain, all the while picking up an army as he went.

Well, an army of sorts.

It lacked discipline and organization, but to Kavan it was just another tool to Nyro’s purpose. All that metal would end up in the forges and furnaces of Artemis City one way or other. Even himself.

And now he was finally arriving at his destination, just as night approached. He walked near the centre of the army, as he had done all the way here, not quite a leader, not quite a prisoner.

Ahead of him two streams of metal were flowing around the city. The sparks and flames from the distant chimneys danced, half seen, against the darkening sky. The tiny figures of robots could be seen on the top of the iron wall, rushing this way and that, getting themselves into position. Kavan thought he could hear sirens sounding from inside the city.

Closer and closer, he became aware of something that had been a growing presence in his life these past few weeks, something he had put from his mind: the sound of marching feet. The hum and spark and crash of so much metal, striking the ground as one. He realized something else: that over time these robots, this ramshackle array of men and women, had gradually begun to march in time with each other. Order had arisen from the chaos, and Kavan felt an incredible sense of inevitability as to what was to follow. He looked at Goeppert, marching nearby, strange elongated body keeping perfect time, and he was struck by a sudden insight. He, Kavan, was in the middle of a story, a story that would maybe one day find itself written in the Book of Robots – if indeed such a thing existed.