War with the Robots

Everyone in the room was watching him, Pore realized, listening to the final judgment of the robot’s words. "Anyone have any ideas?" he asked, unaware of the pleading in his voice. There were no answers.

There had to be an answer; he forced his numbed mind to check over the possibilities. Remote control of HQ from National Central? No, too dangerous, control circuits could be interrupted, cut off or even taken over. Someone had to be here, at least one person to man the Command Prime station. Unless this station could be robot-controlled too.

"A discretion circuit," he shouted with sudden relief. "Can a robot with discretion circuitry be built to operate the Command station?" he asked the robot extension of HQ.

"Yes."

"Well do it. Do it at once. We may have to evacuate, and in case we do I want the robot ready to take over."

It wouldn’t be for long, they would just be gone until the temperature dropped and human habitation became possible again. All of the decisions to be made at Command Prime were simple either-or choices, and an occasional multiple choice. A robot with the correct evaluation and discretion circuits would do well enough for awhile. It wouldn’t be perfect and the victory increment would surely drop a few points, but it wouldn’t be disaster. He would have to check with National Central before putting the plan into operation, but he was sure they wouldn’t come up with a better answer.

They didn’t. The aging commanders couldn’t even do as well and were grateful with General Pere for the suggestion. He even received a promotion and was authorized to wear another star on his shoulder. As soon as the command robot could begin satisfactory operation he was ordered to evacuate.

On the lower levels the hot oily water reached to their knees. The tension among the staff ebbed away only when the new robot was carried in. Pere watched and frowned when the machine was bolted into place in his chair. The job had been a quick one and no special care had been taken with unessentials; the body of the robot consisted simply of a square box, ugly with beaded weld marks. Two eye cells sat on a stubby column above it and a single, articulated arm projected from the front. The eyes focused on the unlit command light and the arm hung down limply. Pere had all the other boards tied into the logistics board, took one last look at the war, then decisively threw the command switch.

The red light came on in front of the robot and it instantly began operation. With lightning speed the metallic index finger pressed three buttons and threw a switch, then drooped again. Pere looked at the decisions and could find no fault. Perhaps he might have brought in the reserve tanks in the eastern bulge and tried to hold. Though it was just as tactically sound to withdraw and straighten the line and save on the estimated losses. Both choices had the same probability rating on the scale, which was why they had appeared on the board. The robot would work.

He hated it though. For some reason it seemed a colossal personal affront to him to be replaced by this arm-waving black box. Was this all that a man was to a machine? The metal fingers ran across the controls, then dropped again.

"Prepare to move out," he shouted in a harsh voice. This evacuation was wrong, very wrong. But what else could he do?

"We’ll rig a stretcher for Colonel Frey," he told the medical officer. "How is he progressing?"

"He’s dead," the doctor said with his toneless professional manner. "The heat was too much for him in his weakened condition. Too much of a strain on his heart."

"Alright," Pere said, keeping his emotions under control. "That leaves Zen as the only casualty and he can walk well enough with his arm in a cast."

When the officers had all assembled General Natia stepped up to Pere and saluted. "All present, sir. Everyone is carrying extra rations and water, in case there is trouble in the return tunnel."

"Yes, of course," Pere said, mentally berating himself for not thinking of these simple precautions. There had been so much on his mind. It was time to leave.

"Has the mono tunnel been kept open?" he asked the adjutant.

"Two additional minor blockages have occurred, but have been cleared."

"Very good. Fall in with the others. Attention… right face… forward MARCH." As his small company tramped out of the room General Pere turned back, goaded by some anachronistic impulse, and saluted the command post. None of the machines paid the slightest attention to him. The robot in his chair jabbed a quick finger at some buttons and ignored him. Feeling slightly foolish he turned quickly and followed the others out.

They were cycling through the multiple sealed doors of the fortress when they met the robot. It was waiting in the outer compartment and pushed past them as soon as the door was open. It was a worker, a mechanical of some kind, scratched and covered with mud: because it had no speech facilities Pere had to question it through the adjutant.