Mech 3: The Empress (23 page)

The Duchess licked her lips. “No,” she said.

Nina said nothing further. Both women saw clearly that the Duchess had been outmaneuvered.

“Very well,” said the Duchess, after taking a moment to recover. “I move that we accept Baroness’ Droad’s request for further support. Let her raise her army. Who seconds my motion?”

A half-dozen hands shot up. The motion was quickly carried. This time, Nina watched as the Duchess’ thumb turned
up
. This, more than anything else, made her start to sweat. What new variety of trap was this witch laying for her now?

“Before we leave you to your critical work, Baroness, I wish to make one point crystal clear. You have promised to end this rebellion, have you not?”

“Uh,” Nina said, pausing. She recovered quickly. Every eye was on her. She had no choice. “I will stamp it out. There will be no mech with two metal struts to stand upon in all of Sunside!”

The Duchess nodded quietly. Nina thought she saw a tiny smile playing on the evil woman’s lips. What was her plan?

When the connection was finally broken, Nina slumped over her desk and called for wine. She drank half a bottle and ignored her underlings. She reviewed the slaughter of Dolleren on her personal player over and over as she drank.

What had she wrought? And where would all this end?

#

As had become his habit of late, Sixty-Two discussed his innermost worries with Lizett. She was different than the rest of them, different than the other mechs he had awakened. Generally, they were ill-tempered, depressed and sometimes murderous. He reflected that he should have expected as much. They were, after all, the convicted dregs of Twilighter society, rather than upstanding citizens. Had he not personally beaten Megwit Gaston to death? These mechs—his entire army—was made up of criminal minds. Once unleashed and faced with the reality of their imprisonment in electro-mechanical bodies, instability was to be expected.

“On the basis of the evidence I’ve been confronted with,” he told Lizett, “I’m suspending the mech-awakening program.”

“Good idea,” Lizett said.

He turned to her and wondered at her compliancy. Alone among his mechs, she had not turn surly, unstable and savage when she’d been awakened. She’d been sad at first, but now seemed to have adjusted and presented herself with very much the same quiet, gentle personality he’d been enchanted by from the start. She was no officer, of course. But she was still very much his muse.

“Lizett,” he said to her, “I think you are my single greatest success. You are what I’d hoped to achieve when I freed the minds of the others.”

“I don’t understand. How can that be? I do nothing of any real use.”

“Nonsense. You are critical, and worth any three of the others. You calm me and temper me. You fill me with good thoughts and rationality.”

“Well—I suppose that’s worth something.”

“Indeed it is. But I think I’ve made a huge error. One of my commanders went wild, and we will all be blamed for his actions.”

“Captain Bellevue?”

“Exactly. His slaughter of innocents will goad the humans. They attacked in force before, and they will do so again now with even greater ferocity. I’ve escalated this war, not dampened it.”

“What are we going to do?”

Sixty-Two shook his head. “I think we will march to Nightside. They are looking for us here. We don’t have the numbers to face them all, so we must continue to hide and gather strength.”

“But Twilight is between us and Nightside.”

“I know. We will march through it and vanish into the cold darkness on the far side.”

“I don’t remember what real night looks like,” Lizett said. “I hope it’s pretty.”

Sixty-Two eyed her for a moment without comment before continuing. “Now, the question is what I will do with Captain Bellevue. I think he must be demoted and removed from command.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” she said softly. “He did awful things.”

Sixty-Two shook his head, marveling at her. So reasonable, so agreeable. These traits stood out in a sea of mechs that were either completely devoid of personality or exhibited a highly unpleasant character.

He clasped his grippers behind himself and paced within his tent. His cloak, which had become ragged of late, wavered behind him as he clanked back and forth.

“Yes,” he said at last. “It must be done.”

He sent out a broadcast message over their local network, summoning Captain Bellevue. He was surprised when the other showed up promptly. Four mechs accompanied Bellevue. These were former perrupters, well-used models with burnished steel hides and weapon muzzles that were dark from a thousand firings.

Sixty-Two swept the group with his orbs. “Leave the perrupters outside. Lizett, stand with them, if you will. Now, Captain Bellevue, please step inside.”

Bellevue followed Sixty-Two into the command tent. The walls of it shuddered with the buffeting winds from outside. Soon, another sandstorm would come. They were less common this time of year, but Sunside was never completely free of them.

“Captain, I’m afraid I must apply disciplinary action in this case. In the operation at Dolleren, you acted without orders and committed unforgivable crimes.”

Captain Bellevue stood before him, motionless except for his left gripper, which twitched and twirled occasionally. Eyeing it, Sixty-Two thought he saw some bloody remnant or other that had glued itself to the metal. Was that a ligament, or a clump of hair? He supposed it didn’t matter.

Laughter erupted from Captain Bellevue’s speakers. “Unforgivable crimes? The enemy forged us into these machines. Not yet satisfied, they lobotomized our people en masse and enslaved us all. And then, lest we forget current events, they slaughtered our civilians at our main base not two ten-days ago.”

Sixty-Two waved a gripper at him. “Yes, yes. You have excellent points. But they will not be convinced we are anything other than crazy mechs if we
act
like crazy mechs.”

“Why should we attempt to convince them of anything?”

“What do you see as the final outcome of this conflict?” Sixty-Two demanded. “Let me tell you what I seek: I reach for peace and equality with the Twilighters. Mechs shall be paid for their work, not enslaved. They shall have contracts the same as any indentured human, rather than be owned like chattel. What’s more, I see mech castles built by our people in Sunside and Nightside—fantastic structures the Twilighters can only dream of. Let them have their cool band around the planet. We shall own the other ninety percent, where they can’t thrive.

“I see,” Captain Bellevue said, sounding thoughtful for the first time. “I suppose, in the end, there must be some form of peace. I like your conception of mech castles and presumably mech lords on their thrones.”

“Precisely!” Sixty-Two said, his orbs blazing. He stepped close to the other. “I need every mech with me, especially free-thinkers such as yourself. In the end, you will become a lord amongst our people.”

Captain Bellevue cocked his head. There was a small grinding sound as he did so, most likely from the grit blown into his joints. “And how many of the mechs shall we free? How many shall become like us?”

“Very few for now, I would think. But in the end, I’d like to free them all, or at least most of them.”

“How would we sort out who would be given the gift of freedom and even lordship?”

“Quality of service, for the latter. But for the former—I’ll tell you what I hope. I plan to locate the archive on our mech people, and read their records. We all have serial numbers stamped a dozen places on our persons. We can review the crimes of the individual and pass our own judgments. Those that are not criminally insane and which we deem salvageable will be restored as we have been.”

Captain Bellevue nodded slowly, thoughtfully. “And what about myself? What is my immediate status to be?”

“I can’t have you leading a company any longer, of course. You will be demoted to the role of an aide for one of the other commanders, but with no authority. Your mind however, will not be tampered with, nor shall you be disassembled.”

Captain Bellevue was silent for a moment. “I doubt I would be as generous if the roles had been reversed. You’ve given this more thought than I’d believed possible.”

“Thank you.”

“Unfortunately, I must disagree.”

“Next—” Sixty-Two began, but broke off. “Excuse me? What was that?”

Captain Bellevue threw open the tent flaps and waved with his grippers. Four perrupters marched in to face Sixty-Two. As one, the perrupters raised their cannon-arms. Lizett followed them, gasping in concern.

“I’m afraid I see a different future,” Captain Bellevue said. “There shall be mech lords, as you envisioned. But most mechs will remain like these fellows: mute warriors. As for the Twilighters, they are insufferable and will be put to the slaughter.”

“You’re going to kill
all
the humans?” gasped Lizett.

Captain Bellevue turned to her as if noticing her presence for the first time. “No, but the herd clearly needs to be culled down to a manageable size. I require a solid population for breeding stock, of course, to produce fresh brains for new mechs. Possibly, reproduction can be automated in time and we can rid ourselves of them permanently.”

“How awful,” Lizett said.

Bellevue returned his attention back to Sixty-Two, who stood tall and quiet before him. “And now, as there is no formal process for advancement in our community, I will introduce an informal one. You are to be executed. I do this out of necessity, not malice, I want you to understand. You are a great mech among us, and you will always be remembered fondly. Possibly, I’ll build a statue in the courtyard of my personal castle in your honor.”

“How nice,” Lizett said.

Bellevue and Sixty-Two both slid their orbs to look at her for a moment, then returned their attention to one another again, without making any comment.

“Do you have any last words before the sentence is carried out?” Bellevue asked politely.

“Just two,” Sixty-Two said. “Override shutdown.”

“An odd choice, I—” Bellevue stopped speaking. He looked in sudden concern at his perrupters. All of them had stopped functioning. One that stood to his right and behind him fell forward, having been slightly off-balance. He struck the back of the one in front of him as he toppled. They both pitched onto the floor. The two on his left stood solidly, if motionless. Their glowing LEDs were quiet dead, however.

“A built-in failsafe?” Bellevue asked. “Impressive. I didn’t know about this.”

“I apologize,” Sixty-Two said, “I have kept certain details even from my closest officers.”

Bellevue drew his power-sword then, and thumbed it to its highest setting. Sixty-Two did the same.

“This puts a different light on things,” Bellevue said. “Shall we duel for the honor of leading our people?”

“I’m afraid I’ve already broadcast for help. Every mech in the compound should be here shortly to arrest you.”

Bellevue chuckled. “Do you honestly think I wasn’t prepared for that? Shouldn’t they have already arrived?”

Sixty-Two had suspected as much. “Very well. If you will not accept my commands, you give me no choice. But Lizett, perhaps you should step outside to prevent injury.”

Bellevue’s blade flicked out to interpose itself between Lizett and the exit. It sizzled with maximum plasma power. “I don’t think so. I will slay her the moment she moves to get help.”

“I’d rather stay in any case,” Lizett said quietly.

“Very well,” Sixty-Two said, stepping forward and raising his blade in salute.

The two mechs touched tips and there was a flash of brilliance that filled the enclosed space with light.

The battle began immediately, and it was intense from the start. Neither mech was highborn, but every Twilighter had some familiarity with the only honorable weapon in their culture. They slashed and cut with powerful, inaccurate blows. Sixty-Two’s metal desk was chopped twice, cutting a huge V-shaped section out of the middle of it, which clanged to the floor. One of the three big central poles holding up the tent was cut down, causing that part of the roof to sag down. When their blades reached high, they slashed holes in the fabric, which allowed intense beams of sunlight to penetrate the relative gloom of the tent.

The first casualty of the fight was Captain Bellevue’s left gripper. It was shorn half off. This caused no pain and did no damage that couldn’t be repaired with a trip to the machine shop, but it did mean he was down to one effective appendage. Sixty-Two focused on his opponent’s right gripper next, the one holding the power-sword. If he could damage both, Bellevue would be helpless.

As the battle went on, Lizett stepped away continuously, removing herself as far as possible from the action. She watched intently, but said nothing.

Captain Bellevue made a sudden lunge for her the next time the battle brought him near. Growling through his speakers, Sixty-Two beat his blade down, but had to stumble and put himself off-balance to do so.

“Ha!” shouted Bellevue triumphantly. He reversed course and swept his blade low. There was a flash of contact, and Sixty-Two’s right leg was a ruin of sparking metal.

Crippled, Sixty-Two could not withstand the onslaught that came now. He realized Bellevue’s attack on Lizett had been a feint, and he’d been duped. He fell backward, unable to retreat.

Triumphant, Bellevue stood over him and hacked down with his sword, making an odd, warbling howl of victory as he did so. Sixty-Two caught the blows, but he was in an impossible position. Knowing he was in his final moments, he told himself he’d done his best.

Suddenly, however, the situation changed. Bellevue stiffened and stopped moving. Fluids ran down his back and his legs, splattering upon Sixty-Two’s prone chassis. Something large and pinkish-gray fell down to sizzle on Sixty-Two’s hot chest plate a moment later.

“What is this?” Sixty-Two asked.

Lizett stepped around from behind the Captain, who’d gone into emergency shutdown and stood frozen in place. She pointed with a gripper to the fleshy material on Sixty-Two’s chest.