They had been expecting him. All those Generals in their new bodies, all of them sporting the metals the humans had bought. Their bright, flashing panel work was in marked contrast to the dull greys and blacks of the soldiers who had followed him here.
He noticed the way they had arranged themselves: the younger Generals had moved to the back of the crowd. It was the older ones like Sandale who had the courage to challenge him.
What have we done? thought Spoole. What have I done? To think, if the animals had never arrived we may have carried on in this way, tearing Artemis apart through our constant jockeying for power. Robots like Kavan marching across the surface of this planet, conquering all, robots like these Generals, making copies of themselves, making robots to lead, robots that have never done anything else…
Sandale had stepped forward. ‘What are you doing?’ he demanded. ‘Why do you bring these troops into this place?’
‘As witnesses, Sandale.’ And he raised his voice so it could be heard within the forge.
‘General Sandale. Generals. I accuse you all of treachery! You are traitors to Nyro!’ Silence fell in the forge. All were listening. ‘Robots!’ he shouted. ‘We have made a grave mistake in Artemis City. We see it standing here before us. Where we should have built robots to fight and to build to the glory of Nyro, we chose instead to weave minds to lead us. That was a mistake! Because to them, leadership has become all! They have never walked a battlefield, they have never constructed a bridge or a forge or an engine. Worse than that, they don’t see any reason why they should do so! Instead, they believe that an ability to lead is all that is required. And so they do anything they can to continue that leadership, even if it means betraying us and Nyro to the animals! Better that, in their minds, than have Kavan return here to oust them!’
The forge was filled with silent attention. The crackle of the fires burning, the gentle pulse of the magnetic motors, the distant hammering, all seemed to fade into the background in the ringing of this greater truth. So many robots looking on, their rifles and knives and awls so far untouched. There was unresolved tension, waiting to be dissipated one way or the other. Of all the Generals, only Sandale seemed untouched by the building current. His low voice carried across the room.
‘You accuse us of treachery? It is you who do not follow the will of Artemis. Artemis’s leaders did not request your presence in this forge.’
Spoole walked forward, his simple, elegant body an eloquent contrast to the over-engineered machine that Sandale wore.
‘You no longer have any authority, Sandale. Not since you gave over part of Artemis to those who do not follow Nyro.’
Sandale smiled.
‘Spoole, did not Nyro herself say that land is not important? Only Artemis. The animals rendered a service to Artemis; they took the land as their payment.’
‘What service, Sandale?’
‘They rid us of Kavan, Spoole. Have you forgotten that was also your wish?’
‘Not in that manner, Sandale, never in that manner!’
But Sandale’s words had achieved their intended effect. Spoole sensed the change in the mood, he felt the scales tilt against him. Still, he pressed on.
‘The animals have taken their payment and more, Sandale! They are spreading across our land!’
A buzz of current ran across the room, jumping from robot to robot. Sandale raised his arms for attention.
‘You exaggerate, Spoole,’ he said, once silence had returned. ‘The animals remain within their compound.’
‘They remain within their compound? Except for their flying craft! Except for the railway lines they convert to their purpose and then use to take metal and fuel from us! Day by day the number of trains that ride the rails to their base increases, trains laden with refined oil and good plate steel, all carried from their bases in Stark and Raman and Wien!’
The point struck home, as Spoole knew it would. Taking metal away was like taking children away. All those unmade children that were the future of Artemis. Still, Spoole knew he should not underestimate the Generals. They were of a different manufacture. The newer minds may not be prepared in the ways of the battlefield, but they were twisted to rhetoric and the art of debate. Already, one young General clad in the lightest of bodies was stepping forward to speak.
‘Indeed, Spoole is right!’ she declared. ‘The humans do take oil and steel, but what you seem incapable of realizing is that they return more than they take! And what they return is of a higher quality, or better than that, of materials previously unknown to us. Look at the metal that is scattered around this forge, given to us by the humans! Look at the aluminium they have brought!’
The entire room gazed at the body of the General, regarded its lustre, felt with their senses its strange but natural essence.
‘Aluminium!’ said one robot, near to Spoole, and the wistfulness in its voice was almost painful to hear.
‘Yes!’ called Sandale, delighted at how the point had struck home. ‘Aluminium! Look, all of you, look at the metal that lies to the far wall of this assembly room. Look, too, at the copper and the platinum, the gold and the electrum that the animals have exchanged with us!’
A buzz ran around the room. Sandale stepped forward, and, old soldier that he was, Spoole saw the titanium beneath the aluminium that he wore.
‘You call us, traitors, Spoole?’ called Sandale. ‘Why? Artemis has traded in the past, it will continue to do so in the future!’ He moved to face the crowd. ‘Listen, all you who have come here today, following this relic of the past. The world may be transforming, but we remain true to Nyro! If Spoole and his philosophy are no longer in keeping with the new reality, as they so clearly are not, then what do we do but build new leaders? Leaders such as those you see before you. Leaders who understand the need to twist new minds suitable for the continuation of Artemis!’
At that some of the robots around the room stamped their feet in agreement. Stamp, stamp!
Sandale turned to face Spoole.
‘See Spoole? We are not traitors.’
Spoole was not built to feel uncertainty under most conditions, and so it was for the first time that he wondered if he had made a mistake. What if Sandale was right? What if he really were a relic of the past?
He pushed the thought aside. He wasn’t made to be indecisive under any circumstances.
‘What about the mothers?’ he said.
‘What of them?’ asked Sandale.
‘Yes, what of them,’ called a nearby infantryrobot. Spoole spoke to him directly.
‘The mothers of Artemis, Olivier, didn’t you know? Sandale has given some of them to the animals, he has ordered them to weave minds that will serve the animals, to weave minds according to the animals’ designs.’
The assembled robots didn’t like that. The thought of minds being woven in any way but that of Nyro’s was abhorrent to them. Spoole saw the glow of their eyes, he felt the mood swing back towards him. But once again the young General dressed in aluminium stepped forward.
‘“Minds according to animals’ designs”?’ she said. ‘And what of it? The metal will still be metal. It will run for forty years or so in the humans’ service, and then it will die, and it will still be metal. Eventually it will return to Nyro’s cause. And just think what we may have gained in trade from the humans in the meantime.’
That calmed the robots a little. They were still unhappy, but they were willing to listen. They wanted to listen. It was built into them to trust the Generals. Spoole felt the balance swinging this way and that. He saw the Generals ranged against him, one robot against the many. He would lose this argument in the long run, he knew it.
He realized his mistake then, coming here and arguing like this. He had walked onto a battlefield advantageous to his enemies. He should have fought them directly instead, using guns and knives. Too late to realize this now.