‘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.
Then someone spoke from the back.
‘This metal is from Turing City State!’
The robots turned in the direction of the shout.
‘Turing City State is no more!’ called Sandale, but Spoole noted the hum of current that had arisen within the General.
‘Hold,’ called Spoole. ‘Speak, robot. What metal is from Turing City State? What do you mean?’
‘This electrum! This metal that is said to be a gift from the humans! I would recognize the mix anywhere! It’s from the coastal mines. I used to assay there, before the invasion.’
‘From the coastal mines?’ called Spoole, and he saw the reaction of the Generals.
‘You knew that, didn’t you?’ he said, realization dawning.
‘No…’ said the young General, her current humming audibly.
‘You did!’ he said, anger rising within him. ‘You knew that already! Yet you continued to deal with them! They are trading us our own metal! They take metal from us and give us back our own!’
‘Why would they do that?’ replied Sandale, desperately.
‘The mothers of Artemis! They want the mothers! And you’ve given them to the animals!’
Rifles were gripped more tightly now, awls and knives were drawn.
‘The aluminium!’ said the young General. ‘What about the aluminium? That doesn’t exist upon Shull.’
‘Not on Shull,’ said Spoole. ‘But maybe elsewhere on Penrose! We never looked that far abroad, did we? Too content on keeping ourselves in power!’
‘No!’
The current in the room was building to a peak, ready to discharge. The Generals felt it. They saw how guns and knives were turned in their directions. Their reign was coming to an end.
Spoole’s followers turned towards him, awaiting the order.
‘No!’ he shouted. ‘Not now. Save your anger for the true target! It lies outside our doors, it lies just outside this city! Robots of Artemis, take back your land! Take back your metal! Take back your mothers!’
The young General stepped forward once more.
‘No!’ she exclaimed. ‘NO!’
And the robots were silent for a moment.
‘Listen! Just listen to me.’ The robots were still, they looked at her. They wanted to hear what she had to say. Anything was better than the near certain death that would likely result from attacking the humans.
‘Listen,’ she repeated, and her voice was calm now. ‘You’re angry. I understand that. But you must trust your leaders. Yes, we were lied to. Yes, the humans misled us. But which one of you could have done better? Who here has any experience of negotiating with animals? None of us! So now we find ourselves in a situation not of our choosing. Well, what would you do now? Follow Spoole as he leads you into the human guns? What good would it do Artemis if we were all to die this day?’
Spoole laughed.