“Not a bad idea,” Copernick said. “But not to the coast. You can have no idea how savage it’s gotten in the cities. I wouldn’t object to your going east.”
“But the cities are where we could do the most amount of good,” Mona protested.
“No. You’ll be able to save a given number of lives in whatever direction you go. I will not permit the mother of my children to risk her life unnecessarily.”
“Oh, all right.” Mona thought that bringing the kids into the argument was remarkably poor form.
“Well, it’s not all right with me. Just you two girls out there alone?” Guibedo said, ignoring the fact that Mona was stronger than most men, including himself.
“Oh, Martin,” Patricia said. “We’ll have Winnie, and you know how strong he is.”
“That walking house trailer is strong, but dumb. Dirk, could you fight in an emergency?”
“I’m a bit in pain, my lord, but it doesn’t degrade my efficiency.”
“So you can ride inside and keep an eye on things. And we can keep in touch through you, too.”
“Oh, I want to go, too!” Liebchen got five cold stares. “Oh, please. Ohura and Colleen can take care of the children now, and Ishtar can watch my babies. Oh, please, please, I won’t get in the way. I promise.”
Saying no to Liebchen was usually too much trouble to be worth it, and this was no exception. The five of them would leave in the morning.
The suspension bridges were all down, and steel trusses were getting shaky. Skyscrapers had already started to collapse, their steel frames riddled with larvae holes. It would be a month or so before the larvae would get hard enough up to eat the nails out of houses, but the day would come.
Long lines of refugees streamed out of the cities. They were pitiful to look at, though most of them were well dressed. Many were hurt, more were sick, and most were hungry. They pushed homemade wooden carts and dragged plastic sleds.
Behind them and around them the cities were crumbling and burning.
Claymore was climbing a sheer sandstone cliff. He moved swiftly, deftly finding footholds, his four camel—like legs moving with insect swiftness. His rigid body was a light tan color, to match his background.
While his forward ganglia controlled his ascent, his central ganglia took command of his eye tentacles—the fixed eyes were sufficient for navigation—and spread them wide for a good view of the human city at his back.
Even from this height and distance, the city was a shambles. The suspension bridge had already fallen, its center span deep underwater. One of its steel towers was down and the other was leaning drunkenly. A nearby truss bridge still held—and might hold for days yet—but in the end it, too, would be rubble and rust. There was no motor traffic on the bridge. There was none anywhere. The cars and trains and planes were falling apart on their driveways and sidings and runways. On schedule.
The bridge was dotted with humans. Claymore adjusted his tentacle eyes for telescopic vision, to study them more closely. Well dressed, most of them, but they trudged slowly under heavy burdens. They were dirty and probably thirsty. The water mains had gone out four days before. Getting enough water to live wouldn’t be a serious problem, but the food situation was serious. Trucks had stopped arriving from the countryside a week ago. This troubled him, for ten thousand of these humans were his personal responsibility.
Nearing the top of the cliff, he scanned out to the west. About half of the power towers had fallen. The lines had been dead for days. As he watched, one more went, slowly crashing into the rustred dust. The center of the city was mostly empty. Two of the tallest buildings had fallen so far, clogging the main intersections. The few people still there moved quickly, furtively watching the remaining buildings. He focused in on one of them. Shabbily dressed and remarkably dirty, this man picked up a brick from a fallen skyscraper and threw it through a large window in a still-standing building. Afraid to go too far inside, he leaned past the broken glass and began filling a canvas bag with the contents of the display window.
Claymore focused closer, curious as to what this human was risking his life to get. Baubles! Crystallized carbon, gold, and silver. Crystallized aluminum oxide with a small percentage of chromium or magnesium. The stuff seemed to have no useful purpose except personal adornment. This human had collected more of it than he could carry. Strange. Contrasurvival.
A block over, another human, a female, was filling a plastic case with green paper certificates. Weird. But there was nothing in Claymore’s directives against it, so he scanned on.
He reached the top of the cliff and had to use his humanoid hands to make it over the lip. From there he turned back to “face” the crumbling city. Not that he had a face, or even a head. His body turned a brownish green to match the grass below his feet.
Scanning to the north, he saw a large group of humans crossing a shaky bridge to an island in the river. Trouble. As soon as transmission space was available, he thought to those below.
Claymore here. Is anyone near the island two miles due north of the city?
Jarid here, Claymore. I am. What can I do for you?
Claymore here. There are approximately twenty-three hundred humans crossing over to that island. The bridge leaving it is down, but they can’t see that from where they’re at. When the bridge they’re using goes they’ll be stranded. We’ll probably lose half of them.
Jarid here. I’ll get on it. Where are you calling from?
Claymore here. I’m on top of the sandstone cliffs south of the city.
Jarid here. I see you now. I suggest you stay there and direct us down here. We have only eighty-two LDUs here to take care of almost two million people. I wish we had some observation birds.
Claymore stifled a sob.
Claymore here. Will do. There are some strange things going on in the city.
Jarid here. Like what?
Claymore here. Humans in the city are foraging for baubles rather than food.
Jarid here. So? It’s what they usually do. Where have you been? The subject was discussed a week ago.
Claymore here. I just came out of shock. I lost my bird a month ago bringing down a bomber. But I’m functional now.
Jarid here. Sorry. I didn’t realize you were a Beta unit. From your name, I mean.
Claymore here. A claymore was a mine as well as a sword. I’m functionally an Alpha now. I’ll get used to it.
Jarid here. I’m sure you will. We’re a tough species. To fill you in on your earlier question, the consensus is that humans were never programmed to handle their present problems. The result is a clinging to obsolete value systems and generally aberrant behavior. Jarid out.
The above conversation took less than a second.
Claymore continued his scanning, occasionally making suggestions to other LDUs below. There were minor outbreaks and riots among the humans, but at least the LDUs didn’t have to face metallic weapons anymore.
Claymore! Gamma 5723 here. Go directly south at top speed. I’ll explain when you’re on your way.
Gamma units were somewhat telepathic with humans, that is, they could hear humans think, although they generally couldn’t talk to them. A recent development, they were few in number and so they generally concentrated on major emergencies. When a Gamma made a suggestion, an Alpha moved fast.
Claymore here. I’m on my way. What’s up?