All too soon they were nothing but dead, grey metal at his feet. Up on the gangue heap, the painted robots of Turing City looked on in awe and fear. But what did they know? Maoco O did not care for them, he realized suddenly, any more than he cared for the Artemisians. For what was it to be a citizen of Turing City but to be willing to fight for it? To die for it? Those citizens, with their handmade bodies, were almost a separate species to him.
The crowd began to applaud, to stamp their feet in a crunching of gangue, and Maoco O realized that they had only just caught up with events. His mind was made of pure electrum, he thought so much faster than they did. They were shouting encouragement to him, yet he took no pleasure in their adulation. Where was the skill in what he had just achieved? Merely following the steps of a dance?
And now the dance resumed.
Another robot was approaching. A different robot this time. Silver-grey katana metal, bladed hands and sharp feet half drawn. Recessed eyes. An Artemisian Scout. The cold wind chilled Maoco O to his soul, but not with fear. This was the best that Artemis could send up against him, and it would not be enough. The Scout raised her gun and fired, and Maoco O leaned out of the path of the bullet, reading her moves perfectly. He was calm. She was calm, too. She fired again, and again, and each time Maoco O leaned out of the way. Now she was firing one-handed, reaching with the other for one of the grenades attached to her waist. She lobbed it towards Maoco O, still firing as she did so, and Maoco spun a shuriken to meet it. The grenade exploded only just beyond her hand, shattering it. Three fingers fell to the ground, the others were left a twisted mess. Still she fired at Maoco O. Bored, he raised his own gun and shot her through the head.
Another Scout approached, walking slowly towards Maoco O, not even keeping cover. Simply raising its gun and firing. For the briefest of moments, Maoco O’s calm gave way to confusion. What were they playing at? Why advance like this, one at a time: why not rush him all at once?
He heard the noise then, the high-pitched whine coming from within the Scout’s body. And then he recognized the way that she was walking. Not dancing, not leaping along like a Scout would, but rather walking with the slow, steady trudge of an infantryrobot. And he realized: this wasn’t a scout at all. This robot was wearing another robot’s body, and inside it there was…
‘Get down!’ he shouted to the Turing City robots that were lined up behind him. He flung himself forward, just as a flare of brilliant white shone at the robot’s arms and legs and neck…
There was a dull crump in the distance as another robot exploded somewhere in the city, and Kavan gave a nod of satisfaction.
‘It won’t work, Kavan,’ said Eleanor. He ignored her. Before him, the lines of grey infantryrobots and Scouts stood in patient silence, their rifles held at the ready. The sergeants stood at the head of the lines, sending the soldiers out one by one into the frightened city. Some of them were armed with bombs, some of them weren’t. Nobody knew which was which, save for the soldiers themselves.
Kavan crouched at the edge of the forward command post, pouring gangue from one hand to the other, studying the composition of the spoil. Behind him, the railway station was still burning, white and orange flames dancing inside its black skeleton. The last of the injured City Guards that put up a struggled resistance before the building had just been put down with some effort. Even damaged, they still fought like ten Artemisians. White dust fell in the burned streets; it blew through the shattered windows of the soot-covered buildings that surrounded the square. There was a shout, and another set of infantry were sent off through the streets of the city to find the enemy.
‘I said it won’t work,’ repeated Eleanor. She was standing just behind him, her voice still crackling with the after-effects of the nuclear explosion.
‘Maybe not,’ replied Kavan. ‘You know that no plan ever survives contact with the enemy.’
‘Kavan, there’s not enough of us!’
He straightened up. The engineers had moved fast. A second railway line had already been laid from the undamaged section beyond the station, and flat-bed trucks were now rolling into Turing City, laden with more troops and weapons. It was an odd sight: an engine would pull up in the middle of the damaged square, and the troops would dismount and then turn on their transport and quickly dismantle it to make room for the next train. The separated parts were neatly packed into boxes and stacked at one edge of the square. The trains could be rebuilt later on, should this attack prove successful. If not, then the metal would be available to Artemis at a later date, when they finally seized full control of Turing City. Turing City’s defeat was, after all, inevitable in the long run.
Kavan turned to Eleanor. ‘You know, if we had to fight thirty thousand robots, I would say you were right, Eleanor. We wouldn’t have a chance. But we’re not fighting thirty thousand robots. We’re only fighting the City Guard while the rest of Turing City is hiding behind their precious champions, waiting to see what happens. The City Guard may be our superiors in combat, but there are more of us than them.’ He looked over to the ruined body of a Guard that lay nearby, his dented head pierced by many bullet holes. He had taken some finishing, but now he was dead.
‘You know, if an Artemisian is damaged he can take spare parts from any of his comrades,’ he said, wonderingly. He pointed to the dead Guard. ‘They get wounded and they can’t properly repair themselves. I tell you, Eleanor, they may construct better robots here in Turing City, but we have the correct paradigm for war.’
A shout, and another set of infantryrobots peeled away from the head of each column, heading into the city beyond. Eleanor could hear the humming coming from within their metal shells. These were all walking bombs.
‘They’ll soon figure out what we’re doing,’ said Eleanor. ‘Then they’ll just pick them off at a distance.’
‘I know,’ said Kavan. ‘But that’s to our advantage. We can’t beat them at close quarters, but if we reduce this battle to each of us sniping at long range…’
Eleanor said nothing. Kavan glanced back at the burning railway station. It reminded him of something, the way one side of its curved shape had collapsed in on itself…
‘I can’t believe we got this far,’ said Eleanor, suddenly. ‘If I’m honest, I didn’t think we would do it.’
‘What we think isn’t important, Eleanor. Artemis does what Artemis will.’
He looked back at the railway station and he had it now. The whale. The railway station reminded him of that whale, back in Wien. The place where General Fallan had fallen.
There was another shouted command, and the next set of infantry headed into the silent city. Kavan watched them go.
… fell to the ground and rolled awkwardly to a halt. His right side was badly damaged, caught full in the blast of the exploding soldier. He looked back in disbelief at the shattered remains of the silver Scout body. No wonder it had shown such trouble moving! The robot’s entire chest must have been packed with high explosive. He saw the three puffs of dust on the floor in front of him, heard the crack of gunfire a moment later, and he rolled forward, tumbled to the side, his right arm and leg refusing to operate properly. In his peripheral vision he saw the crowd of Turing Citizens that had stood on the gangue pile all watching him. One of them was shouting, pointing to a group of Artemisian robots that had just rounded the corner and was advancing towards him.