Blood and Iron (48 page)

‘That looks like a child to me,’ he said.

‘But why?’ asked Jasprit. ‘What makes it look like a child?’

Ruth came up. She looked down at the pattern. ‘I thought that was a man.’

‘Apparently not,’ said Jasprit. ‘Not to a robot, anyway.’

‘Karel,’ said Ruth, ‘the craft is coming. We’ll need to head up the mountain a little way to the flat ground. Are you ready?’

‘I am.’

Melt walked up. ‘They say it will only take half an hour to get down,’ he said.

‘That will save us a lot of time.’

Karel looked around the three humans, at the strange village.

‘I feel as if I should stay here . . .’ he began.

‘That’s how it begins,’ said Melt firmly. ‘Promises and help, and before you know it you’re dancing to their tune.’

‘You know,’ said Karel, ‘you’ve remembered your past.’

‘Later,’ said Melt. ‘When we’re down.’

They said goodbye to Simrock.

‘Good luck finding Nicolas the Coward,’ said Karel.

‘Thank you,’ said Simrock.

‘Goodbye Karel, Goodbye Melt,’ said Jasprit.

They climbed from the village, accompanied by Brian and Ruth. Jasprit and Simrock waved goodbye.

‘Not far up here,’ said Brian.

They climbed to a little wind-whipped plateau. Brilliant white peaks surrounded them, framed by the deepening blue sky. Night was coming. Below them the slopes were greyer where the summer snowmelt had occurred.

‘It’s not too windy is it, Brian?’ asked Ruth.

‘They said it would be fine.’

As he spoke there was a low buzzing. Karel saw a flying craft approaching, a huge propeller turning on the top.

‘A helicopter,’ said Ruth.

The craft came closer; it hovered above them and then slowly settled on the plateau.

‘Goodbye,’ said Ruth, holding out her hand. ‘I hope you find your wife.’

Karel took her hand. It was a delicate operation; not too hard so he crushed it, not so soft it slipped from his; he shook it up and down, the way he had seen Melt do.

‘Thank you,’ said Karel. ‘I hope you find out all you need to.’

He shook hands with Brian and then moved towards the craft. The big propeller on the top was blowing down on them, pushing them to the ground. Something within in the craft set up a singing resonance within his body. It was uncomfortable, but bearable.

Karel and Melt climbed on board. They were met by a human wearing something like a robot’s skull over his head, a sheet of glass across the front. He showed them where to sit on the little metal seats. He seemed particularly concerned by the weight of Melt, moving him around the cabin until he was happy with his position.

Eventually they were settled. The note of the engine increased, and Karel gazed out of the window as they rose up into the air.

Susan

Barrack 245 was one of twenty identical corrugated-steel buildings arranged in a four by five grid near the marshalling yards.

The windowless, rectangular constructions crowded together, keeping the narrow concrete paths running between them forever in gloomy shadow. Susan walked with Spoole, now also wearing the body of an infantryrobot, down one of the paths.

‘There is fungus growing down here,’ said Spoole. ‘Here, right in the middle of Artemis City.’

‘Fungus?’ Susan looked at the soft white globes. ‘They’re obscene!’

‘I saw them in Born,’ said Spoole. ‘They used to cultivate them.’

‘Why?’

‘I have no idea.’ He looked up at the sheer wall of the building. ‘This is the place. It’s empty.’

Susan could feel it too. The building could hold one thousand, four hundred and fifty robots, packed in, arms and legs and bodies all pushed together. So many bodies combined would set up a faint hum. Spoole tapped at the wall. They heard the hollow vibration of the space beyond.

‘They’re gone,’ he said.

‘Not surprising,’ said Susan. It had taken them days to reach the barracks. Days of dodging patrols and doubling back on themselves. The order had gone out that Spoole was now wanted for treason against the state. That was a difficult concept for the robots of Artemis, their minds woven from birth to think of nothing but Nyro’s way. That conscripts should turn against the state, that they should only pretend to be Artemisians as a way of preserving their life, that was understood. But for Spoole, a robot whose mind was woven in the making rooms of Artemis, to turn traitor, that was almost unthinkable.

‘What do we do now?’

Spoole had the answer already.

‘Head for the Marshalling Office. Nettie will have been loaded onto a train. We can find out which one.’

They left the barrack area and followed the gloomy concrete paths back out into the sunshine at the edge of the marshalling yard.

Railway lines, their upper surfaces polished silver by the passage of wheels, swept across the ground in every direction.

‘It’s over a mile across,’ said Spoole, proudly. ‘Two miles deep, though some of the lines run back for five miles, almost into the heart of the city.’

Susan looked at the endless rows of the wagons parked on the lines before her. A diesel engine rumbled past, pulling a line of green tankers. She could hear the petrol sloshing around inside them. Only half full. Had the humans taken the rest?

‘Where’s the Marshalling Office?’

‘Down there.’

Spoole pointed south, to the focus of the yard, the place where all of the lines converged through a series of points and crossovers, the place where the hundreds of tracks joined together in ones and twos to leave just sixteen, running from Artemis City and into the continent of Shull. A gantry stretched across those sixteen tracks, a haphazard array of galvanized steel buildings erected upon it.

‘Every train that leaves the city this way passes beneath the Marshalling Office,’ said Spoole. ‘Every train, every item of freight, is recorded there. If Nettie has been taken, they’ll know it. Come on.’

They set off, jumping across the tracks, dodging between the trains that slowly rumbled past.

They found themselves keeping pace with a rake of open wagons, infantryrobots standing idly on board, watching the world go by.

‘Where are you heading?’ called Spoole.

‘Stark!’ one of them called back. ‘They say Kavan is out there!’ He took a closer look, and saw through the borrowed infantry-robot body. ‘Hey, you’re Spoole, aren’t you!’

‘I am!’

‘Spoole!’ Susan tugged at his arm. ‘What are you doing?’

The infantryrobots all turned in his direction, pressing forward to the edge of the wagon.

‘Spoole, what’s going on?’ they called. ‘They say you’re a traitor! Are you?’

‘What do you think?’ asked Spoole.

‘I don’t know. Why are you fighting Kavan?’

‘I’m not sure I’m fighting Kavan. Are you?’

The train was speeding up. One infantryrobot began running back along the train, trying to keep level with Spoole. Jumping from wagon to wagon, pushing other robots out of the way. Spoole and Susan jogged forward to keep up with him.

‘Would Kavan trade with the animals?’ called the robot.

‘You know the answer to that,’ called Spoole.

‘But . . .’ The robot tripped on another.

‘Hey!’

The train was accelerating now. Spoole watched as the infantry-robot receded.

‘Spoole!’ it called.

‘It’s going too fast,’ said Susan, slowing to a halt. Spoole did the same. ‘You took a risk there.’

‘I don’t know,’ said Spoole. ‘Look.’ They both watched as an infantryrobot jumped from the train. Two more followed its example.

‘Come on!’

They ran forwards, the end of the train passing them as they did so. More robots were jumping to the tracks ahead of them. Some of them lost arms and legs as they did so. Others helped put them back together.

Susan and Spoole arrived at the group.

‘Spoole, I’m Copland. Do you remember me? Years ago, in Bethe?’

‘Spoole, we can’t believe you’re a traitor.’

‘I’m not. Treachery would be following the animals.’

Copland looked at the other robots.

‘Listen, Spoole. There are others in the city who think the same as you. Hundreds of them. Thousands. All they need is a leader.’

Susan gazed balefully at Spoole.

‘You’re going to leave me, aren’t you?’ she said. ‘You promised to help me!’

‘I didn’t, Susan. You are thinking like a Turing Citizen. An Artemisian follows Nyro. There are no other promises.’

Susan glared at him, hatred singing within her.

‘However,’ said Spoole, ‘I bear you no ill will, and I will help you as best I can. Go to the Marshalling Office. Ask to see the freight records, under my authority.’

‘Your authority? It means nothing to me. Nor to anyone else!’

‘Apparently this is no longer the case,’ said Spoole. Behind him, the other infantryrobots were finishing the repairs to each other and they were lining up in formation. ‘Anger will get you nowhere, Susan.’

‘Anger? After what your state did to mine? I can’t believe I trusted you.’

‘That trust is part of the reason why your city failed, Susan. Listen to me though, I’m trying to help you. Once you have access to the freight records, look for Nettie, find out where she was taken. The office staff will help you, they should see nothing unusual in your request. Such things happen all the time. Once you have found where Nettie was taken, note the service number of the train. After that, go to the timetable office and find when that service next runs. Get yourself on that train.’

Susan felt as if her gyros would break out of her at any moment.

‘I hate you. I hate you and your rusting, badly twisted state.’

‘That’s the difference between us,’ replied Spoole. ‘I bear you nothing but gratitude, Susan. Which of us has the better mindset?’

At that he turned and began to march north towards the centre of Artemis City, the infantryrobots following him. Susan couldn’t bear to watch him go. She couldn’t bear to follow his advice.

She stood in the middle of the tracks for eighty minutes. Immobile, undecided as to which way to go. Trains rumbled by her this way and that.

In the end she did the only sensible thing. She headed towards the Marshalling Office.

Karel

The human craft flew down from the mountains.

Karel looked out of the window in awe. Though he had travelled up and down this continent he had never seen it from this perspective before. On his previous journeys he had been aware of a constantly expanding border, of Artemis pushing back its boundaries. Up here, though, sitting in the oddly soft human seat, he saw nothing but one land. Snow giving way to brightly coloured rocky cliffs, cliffs sloping down to fields of boulders, boulders shrinking to pebbles before giving way to the gravel plain beyond. More though, he was aware of the change in the colours of the rock, the way the bright profusion of ores faded to the grey of the Artemisian plain.

The helicopter swooped towards it, and Karel wanted to tell someone about what he was feeling, but he held back. He didn’t want to speak to Melt. At least, not yet. More than ever he was convinced that the other robot was hiding something. The heavy lead man just sat there, gazing at nothing.

Karel looked at the human who sat in the back of the craft with the pair of them. It was looking at Karel with interest, examining his body, looking at the fingers on his hand.

‘Hello,’ he said, holding out his hand as he had seen the other humans do. ‘My name is Karel.’

The animal smiled and took it, moved it up and down, then pointed apologetically at his head. He wasn’t wearing one of the devices that would let him understand their words. Odd, thought Karel, that there would be different ways of speaking. He thought about what Ruth had said, how robots weren’t very curious, and he wondered, should he be more curious?
The Story of Eric and the Mountain . . .
That was meant to be important. Melt said he knew that story. Maybe when they landed he would get Melt to tell it to him.