Machine World Read online

  Della searched my face. “It’s a violation. Hegemony Law, Galactic Law—nothing a person can do is much worse. There can only be one person with the same DNA sequence running around at one time. Natasha made that very clear to us.”

  I wasn’t sure about it being the worst violation a person could perform, having committed a number of acts I would consider to be significantly worse, but I smiled reassuringly.

  “I won’t tell. Your secret is good with me.”

  “All right then.”

  We eyed one another for a few seconds.

  “So,” I said in a whisper, “She got off the doomed ship Corvus somehow and survived? I can hardly believe she made it across all that empty space to Dust World. Was she injured?”

  “Yes. Radiation burns. Exhaustion. Only three of the techs returned to Dust World about a month after you left. The other two died within months, but Natasha hung on.”

  “How did they do it?”

  “I don’t understand it all,” Della said. “I know they managed to rig up some kind of life-pod and used a slingshot effect around our star to reach planetary orbit. They finally made reentry a month after Corvus crashed into the star. Natasha was thin and sick, but we nursed her back to health.”

  Thinking it over, I could believe it. If anyone could figure out a solution to an impossible physics problem, it was Natasha. “I should have known she’d make it. I told her—my copy, that is—that there was no way it could happen. I didn’t want her to worry about it.”

  “We owe her so much, James. She taught us the tech that we didn’t grasp. We had tech samples from the Empire and the squids. There were piles of forgotten debris all over the valley. She put it all together for us.”

  I nodded thoughtfully. Natasha was, flat out, the best tech I’d ever met. It made total sense to me that she’d be up to such a herculean task.

  “She taught you, and you came up with trade goods. Nanites, dragons. Trade and viability. I’m sure you do owe her a lot.”

  “Your legion abandoned us. They left us to die, really. You’re right, we owe her so much. She knew she could never go home to Earth again, so she did her best to make Dust World livable.”

  “One new colonist,” I mused. “Just the kind you needed to get your world going. Did she hide when the ships finally came from Earth to trade?”

  “She didn’t have to. By then, she’d blended in with the rest of us. No one would ever have guessed who she really was.”

  Della’s explanation was followed by an awkward silence, and I was the one who broke it.

  “Okay,” I said, forcing a tight smile. “Now I know everything. I’ll be going now.”

  She stopped me with a hand. “There’s one more thing. James, she never stops talking about you. She’s in love with you. I can’t figure that out, myself.”

  I chuckled. “Love, hate…they’re just two sides of the same coin with James McGill.”

  -16-

  Before dawn, I woke up with a hand pawing at me. I slapped it, but it kept coming back. Opening my eyes, I saw Carlos grinning down into my face.

  Now, I don’t know about you, but a hairy, round-cheeked male face was about the last thing I liked to see in the morning.

  “What the hell do you want?” I demanded. “What time is it?”

  “It’s explaining-time for you, you big freak.”

  Growling, I came up off my bunk and landed on my feet. Carlos had pushed our friendship too far. I’d advanced in rank, and he hadn’t, but he still thought he could treat me like that first day we met at the Mustering Hall in Newark.

  “Whoa, fella,” he said, pointing toward the tent flaps.

  They parted to reveal Leeson. “About time you got off your ass, McGill. Mind you, I think we should just blast this thing and not even bother having you try to talk to it, but that’s not my call to make.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “Haven’t you heard? That alien-looking mechanical bug-thing you made love to out on the ice is outside, trying to communicate. Now, get out there and figure out what it wants, pronto.”

  “Uh…yes, sir.”

  I scrambled into a vac suit and marched out through multiple fabric airlocks. The pumps wheezed and complained because I hadn’t waited around long enough to let them seal up properly and scrub the air that got into our innermost quarters. Gas monitors beeped and farted neutralizing agents to counter the contamination.

  Outside, it was dawn—or what passed for dawn on this frozen rock. In practice that meant the mist wasn’t moving around as much as usual, and the diffused light was deep gray rather than the white of day or the black of night.

  Hanging wisps of vapor swirled around one of the smaller machines, which whirred and clacked. In the still, windless air the gyrations of the machine appeared to be more pronounced. Its flailing limbs churned, digging at a patch of exposed dirt.

  I peered at the alien machine. The thing did resemble the one I’d tried to make contact with the day before, but it was hard to be certain. They really did all look alike.

  The camera-eyes noticed me, and they shivered a little. The machine stopped whatever it was doing and looked me over.

  Finally, it broke off excitedly and ran toward me, gesturing with mouthparts. It tried to lead me to the spot where it had been working, running around like a dog. I followed it to the flat area where it had been screwing around in the dirt. Squinting, I looked at what it had done.

  “Pictures,” I said. “Sketches. You came back for more communication, didn’t you?”

  The robot quivered and did a little spin around its latest work, but interposed itself between me and the other drawings. I figured it wanted me to see this image first.

  It was a picture of a man, sort of, only the man looked like an oval with angled sticks for arms and legs. The man was inside a tent like the one I’d just exited. The tent was a bag-like affair encircling it.

  “Okay,” I said. “Me in a tent. Or at least, close enough. What else have you got?”

  It backed away and showed me the next thing. This showed a series of blobs surrounding the man in the tent. I didn’t get that one.

  “Hmm. A bunch of somethings around the tent. Okay…”

  The machine backed up further, showing me the last image. I frowned. I saw the man in the tent was lying flat, and the tent was deflated. It looked like a limp bag on the ground. The circles that had been encircling it were now piled on, drawn on top of the man, the tent—everything.

  “Is this some kind of threat?” I asked. “Or a warning?”

  Staring cameras regarded me. The artificial feet tapped at random intervals, making clacking sounds on the stones. It had no idea what I was saying. I heaved a sigh, got out my sidearm and used it to scratch in the dirt beside the images the machine had treated me to.

  I drew two figures. One was the man-figure, similar in nature to the version the machine had drawn. The other was a machine, one that resembled the little guy I was trying to talk to. I had each extend a stick-like limb toward one another.

  “So this is what passes for flirtation on Machine World, huh McGill?” Leeson asked. He’d been watching me with mild interest. “Why don’t you draw two machines screwing? That will get you there faster.”

  He guffawed with laughter.

  “I’m trying to make it look like they’re shaking hands, not having relations, sir,” I told Leeson. I offered him my sidearm. “Maybe you could do better?”

  “Don’t put that gun in my hand! I’d as soon shoot this mechanical bug as look at it.”

  While I talked to Leeson, the machine examined my image then moved to a fresh spot and began to work again. It left behind an image that was similar to mine, but the man-figure was all wrong. I had too many limbs, and they looked all curly.

  Sighing, I tried but couldn’t come up with a translation for the machine’s work. Maybe it was too early in the morning. Leeson had no answers either. He finally got bored and left.

  While I contin
ued to examine the latest image the machine had drawn for me, a familiar specialist approached.

  “Hey,” I said in surprise. “What’s up, Natasha? I thought you were still aboard Minotaur.”

  “We’re all in the process of coming down now,” she said. “Turov has been deploying most of the troops at the beachhead Winslade established south of here, but I was sent here.”

  I could have asked “what beachhead?” or made other rude remarks, but I didn’t. I was too happy to see Natasha. I ushered her to the machine and showed her the drawings. She eyed them with great interest.

  “Okay,” she said. “I’m pretty sure that’s you in the tent in the first image, or at least a generic human.”

  “Right.”

  “Then the man in the tent is surrounded, and finally destroyed. But what are those blobs that are performing the destruction?”

  “I think they’re the big machines. They look a little like conical piles of dirt. That’s what the bigger ones look like.”

  She frowned at me. “So this guy is trying to tell us we’re going to be under attack soon?”

  “Maybe,” I admitted.

  “And you drew this last one? The one with the human making out with the machine?”

  “We’re shaking hands, dammit.”

  “Okay, okay. Then your friend drew something else—oh.”

  “What?” I asked. “I didn’t get that one.”

  “Don’t you see, James? That’s a machine shaking hands with a cephalopod.”

  The moment she said it, I could see the sketch her way. It was as clear as day, now that I thought about it.

  “He’s telling me the machines aren’t our friends,” I said. “They’re allied with the squids.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “We’ve got to go in and report this to Graves.”

  I looked around a few minutes later and noticed the machine I’d been struggling to communicate with had wandered off. Reflecting on the entire episode, I wasn’t sure if the alien had come here to warn us, to inform us—or just to gloat.

  * * *

  The next day went badly. We were out scouting the local region at dawn, in preparation for proceeding with our mission. There was no way we could have known what we were in for.

  The first hint came when my helmet began to scratch with radio signals. I realized I’d left a channel open—a low-frequency channel in the kilocycle range. I contacted Kivi first, who messed with her settings and confirmed it. I had her move off a few hundred meters from me to get a second directional reading.

  The signals pointed out to the lake north of us. I contacted Graves without hesitation.

  “Sir, we have machine readings—lots of them. They seem to be moving nearby. Triangulating with my team, I figure they’re north, moving up onto the lakeshore.”

  “Machines?” he asked. “Like the ones in that village you found the other day?”

  “Yes, exactly.”

  “I’ve reviewed the vids. The machines seemed pretty harmless. Even that big one shuffled off after you left the vicinity of the village. Just don’t antagonize them.”

  “Right sir, but if I might add—there seems to be a lot of them, and they’re coming toward your position from the north.”

  “Okay, okay. Go up there and scout them for me. Give me a count and a definite heading.”

  My heart sank. I’d been hoping I’d be recalled. But that wasn’t Graves’ style. Whether risking his own life or the lives of his troopers, he’d always been a pretty generous contributor to the reaper.

  “Okay, saddle-up,” I ordered. “We’re going north to check out that contact.”

  We moved toward the lakeshore warily, trotting at about half-speed. The mists precluded a full-speed approach since we might have run into the targets blind.

  As it turned out, it hardly made any difference. We were less than a kilometer from the mass of them when we realized what we were trotting our long-legged dragons into.

  “Machines, Vet! Hundreds of them!” It was Carlos who sounded the alarm. Normally, I would have been suspicious of a line like that coming from him—but the tone in his voice indicated he was serious.

  “Check them out. Have they detected you?”

  “They’re big ones, Vet! Like the mama-machine we saw back at the village. They’re coming my way. I think they can hear our radios.”

  “Right. Wheel your mounts and ride!” I ordered my squad.

  All around me, dragons turned and ran back the way we’d come. It wasn’t our job to fight these machines. We were supposed to locate them and gather intel, that was it.

  “Carlos, can you give me a count?”

  “I don’t know—I see at least four on my tail. Jeez, these things are big! They’re fast, too. I—one of them is gaining on me. It just won’t give up.”

  I reported in to Graves then noticed Carlos’ blinking light. He was trying to contact me.

  “Carlos, what’s happening?”

  “One of them caught me,” he said, breathing hard. “It just plowed me over and knocked my mount down, but I’m still breathing. It hasn’t breached the capsule yet. Permission to fire, Vet!”

  I was surprised he’d bothered to ask. I wouldn’t have. “Permission granted! Defend yourself! We’re coming back.”

  “Is that a good idea?” Kivi asked. “We’re not supposed to antagonize the locals. You were drawing pictures in the dirt with them yesterday.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I said. “That was before they attacked one of us. I told Graves I’d leave them alone unless they attacked first.”

  “Vet’s right,” Sargon said. “We’ve got clear rules of engagement. The locals have broken them. Maybe they’ll respect us more if we show them we aren’t helpless.”

  We plunged through the white mists and topped a small rise in the land. A machine loomed into view on the far side. It had to be the one that was trying to eat Carlos.

  This machine was big. It was hard to judge, but I’d be willing to bet it was even bigger than the first one we’d met up with. The configuration was familiar. A mountain of interlocking plates covering a body that looked like a giant metal slug.

  Flashes of light erupted from under the machine as we approached. I figured that was probably Carlos trying to give it indigestion. I looked around but didn’t see any other machines. If I had to guess, I figured they’d moved off while the lucky one that had caught Carlos tried to have a meal.

  “Spread out. When I give the order, fire your grenades high,” I said. “We don’t want to blast our own man.”

  The squad went into action. Without being told, Sargon led his group around to the machine’s flank.

  The machine seemed to take notice of us, shivering and twisting this way and that as if nervous. But it didn’t want to leave its kill. I could tell we were going to have to give it some encouragement.

  “Fire at will!”

  Everyone began raining grenades down on the machine. They popped and flashed but didn’t penetrate. A few of its scales fell off but not enough. I knew what the problem was. Our weaponry was built to take out infantry not heavily armored targets.

  “Carlos?” I called. “Can you still hear me?”

  He didn’t answer, and that’s when I noticed his squad ID was red. His name, on the list of names in my cockpit, was listed as a dead link. I didn’t know if he’d succumbed, or his radio had gone out. The effect was pretty much the same either way. We had to get past this thing’s armor before it ate him entirely.

  “I’m going in close!” I shouted. “Hold the grenade fire until I punch a hole in those outer plates.”

  I galloped forward, running my dragon at full speed. At the last second, the shivering alien machine lifted its lower edge. I realized that’s how it must engulf things. It looked like I was about to run right under its skirt and spend some quality time with Carlos’ corpse.

  “Look out, McGill!” shouted Kivi.

  Without taking the time to answer her, I engaged my dragon’s ex
oskeletal legs with full power, stiffening the metal springs in the feet. I bounded high when I reached the machine, sailing right over the uplifted lip of it and landing with a sprawling clatter on top.

  The footing was uneven at best. I didn’t have more than a second or two before I knew it would reshape itself and send me crashing back down to the ground. After that, I knew it would swallow me.

  Stabbing at the controls, I let my grippers fold back. Twin, high-powered force blades sprang from my dragon’s arms.

  Up close, the machine was more complex and bizarre than I’d realized previously. It had cameras—lots of them. Like a spider with eyes clustered between its legs, the cameras were nestled all over the place between the plates. There must have been a hundred machine-eyes watching me as I tore a hole in its armor.

  Three times, I slashed. I didn’t get fourth try. Plates flew off, clattering and clanging to the ground. A good-sized hole had opened up, but I didn’t know if it would be enough.

  That was as far as I got before I was unceremoniously dumped on the dirt. A great flap of the outer rim rose up, the whole machine shivered forward—then everything went dark.

  I was underneath it, being crushed down. The underside of the machine reminded me of a roly-poly from my grandma’s backyard. There were hundreds of gray metallic feet and churning legs. They clacked and sparked on my dragon’s armor. The experience left me with a panicky feeling. I knew this was how Carlos had died.

  As my eyes adjusted to the gloom, I could see tools hanging down from the insides of the machine. Tools mounted on arms that moved independently. I could tell already that when these steel pipes, spikes and blades got through my dragon’s hull to the soft meaty center, it wasn’t going to be a happy moment for old James McGill.

  “Squad!” I shouted on the com channel. “Can you hear me? I’m inside the machine, underneath it. If I use my launchers, I’ll blast myself apart.”

  “Hang on, Vet,” Sargon said. “We’re mounting a general attack.”

  “Go for the hole that I cut in the thing’s hull,” I said. “Try firing grenades in there.”