Susan said nothing. She knew the way her mind was woven: her mother had made her mind to look after her husband, first and foremost. It was a current-draining moment, to realize that her thoughts of revenge meant nothing compared to this truth: that she could calmly work with the man who was ultimately responsible for her child’s death if it brought her closer to Karel.
‘You understand what I’m talking about, don’t you?
They gazed at each other for a moment. Vignette looked down at the broken body of the Storm Trooper.
‘He’ll have heard everything we said.’
Whatever cold hatred had filled Susan’s mind in the middle of the fighting was suddenly gone.
‘We have to kill him,’ said Vignette.
‘I know,’ said Susan. ‘But I don’t think I can.’
‘I can,’ said Vignette.
She bent down said something so softly that Susan didn’t hear it. Then she reached around behind his neck and broke his coil.
‘What did you say to him?’ asked Susan.
Vignette wore a nasty expression.
‘I told him that his wire was weak and of low quality.’
‘That was cruel.’
‘He would have killed us!’
‘He was only acting the way he was woven.’ Susan was suddenly sad.
‘Then so am I,’ said Vignette, coldly. Her eyes glowed for a moment and then faded back to normal level.
‘Good luck, Susan,’ she said.
‘You too.’
The two women turned and headed off in opposite directions. Back to the lights of Artemis City. Back to the approaching war.
Wa-Ka-Mo-Do and the rest of the troop waited amongst the tall shapes of the human crops. The plants were so strange. Where robot plants were thin and fibrous, ideal for making paper and other useful materials, these human crops were mutants, the yellow fruits at the top of the stalks hugely oversized, so heavy they threatened to topple the whole plant. No wonder the farmers out here were so angry! What use would plants like this be to the robots of Sangrel?
He raised himself up and peered north through the top of the stalks.
From this distance, Sangrel was a scene of golden radiance set on a black throne. The city was a collection of jewelled lights beneath the bright stars. Wa-Ka-Mo-Do wondered what was happening back there. Was La-Ver-Di-Arussah following his orders? There was nothing he could do about it out here, that was certain.
He thought back over the past few days, wondering at the events in this province: his presence in Sangrel, the death in the market place, the trouble in Ell, the trouble that threatened here tonight, the humans.
The humans were more powerful than the Emperor had led him to believe. Yet there was something more… He thought of Rachael, the night before. Her father’s behaviour, the way that her translator had kept cutting out.
What was it they were holding back? Did the Emperor know?
He remembered the Emperor’s insistence that this had nothing to do with the Book of Robots.
It was funny, robots like La-Ver-Di-Arussah mocked him, questioned out loud if he believed in the Book of Robots.
How could they be so stupid? Of course he didn’t. Wa-Ka-Mo-Do had the knowledge woven directly into his mind by his mother. He didn’t believe in the book, he knew it to be true. He knew that there was a pattern of instructions for the first robot mind. He knew that there was a way robots were supposed to be.
What terrified him was the thought that he may have met his makers. He hoped that it wasn’t true.
Someone tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned to see the captain beckoning. He followed him through the tall plants, pushing aside the mutant stalks until they came to a path trampled through the centre of the crops. Wa-Ka-Mo-Do bent down to examine the trail. It was recent. Quickly, silently, he followed it until it came to a fork. He listened carefully. He could hear a sound in the distance. Robots trying to move quietly.
Wa-Ka-Mo-Do pointed to one path after the other, indicating that the troops should split up. The captain nodded and gestured to some of the red-brass soldiers behind him. Wa-Ka-Mo-Do watched them lope quickly down the path, impressed. These soldiers were well built and well trained. A few civilians should present them with no problems.
He signalled to the remaining soldiers to follow, and led them silently down the path. Up ahead he could hear the sound of splashing. Petrol. They were going to set fire to the crops, just as the Vestal Virgins had predicted. He unslung his shotgun and swept it in a wide circle, indicating that the soldiers should fan out.
Somewhere in the distance he heard the crackle of gunfire, and he realized it was the captain attacking.
‘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!’