War with the Robots

"Perhaps we could… blow it out of the way," Natia said apologetically. Pere turned his light on her and she shook a handful of cartridges from the clip at her waist. "These contain powerful explosive. Perhaps the adjutant could arrange them to all explode together."

"I can," the adjutant said.

Surprisingly, all four of them still had their sidearms and spare clips; they had not been discarded with the rest of the equipment. The adjutant took the spare clips and buried them in the rubble while they moved back down the tunnel. A minute later the robot came running back to join them and they pressed themselves to the floor. The ground jumped and the roar of concussion smote their ears. They forced themselves to wait long minutes for the stifling cloud of dust settled, before Pere let them go forward.

The barrier was still there, but the ceiling had fallen and high up in the gap a ray of light shone on the dust motes.

"We’re through," Pere said hoarsely. "Help me up there." Steadied by the robot he reached up into the hole and crumbled away the soft dirt at the lip until it was big enough for his shoulders. A lump came away with a tuft of grass, green and damp. He groped up through the hole, reaching for a hold.

"Let me help you," a voice said, and brown calloused hands clutched his and pulled.

It was so unexpected that Pere gasped with shock. Yet he could not let go and the hand pulled him steadily out of the hole in the ground. He fell face first onto the grass and groped for his gun, while the light burned into his eyes. Through tears of pain he saw a circle of legs surrounding him, and took his hand from the pistol butt.

The others were out of the hole now and as his eyes adjusted Pere could look around him. The sky was cloudy and it must have been raining because the grass on which he sat was damp. Before him stretched a freshly plowed field. He felt a sudden spurt of pleasure at identifying these things that he had only seen before on the screen. This was the first time in his life that he had ever been above ground.

Of course all of the recordings he had seen were historicals, from the time before the war when people still lived on the surface, instead of in the numerous sub-cities. He had always assumed that the surface was sterile and bare of life. Then who were these people? Something whistled and screamed away into the distance over his head, and he was aware for the first time of a constant rumbling that seemed to come from all sides.

"Who are you?" a voice asked, and Pere struggled up to face the man who had helped him from the hole.

"I am General Pere, this is my staff." The man had a very dark skin and was wearing a weird costume that seemed to consist completely of cast off mechanical items. His tunic was plexicloth from a machine cover: his shoes wedges of metal with webbing straps to hold them in place. He wore a metal helmet on his head as did all the others.

"A general," the man grunted and the smile vanished from his face. He turned and whistled shrilly. In the field there were some more people pulling at a strange device, one of them waved and they started in Pere’s direction.

"Boruk is coming," the tan skinned man said grufily. "Talk to him. Maybe it’ll do some good. Though I doubt it." He spat on the ground and kicked dirt into the spittle with one toe.

Overhead in the clouds there was a muffled and gigantic explosion. Pere looked up and saw the clouds briefly stained a rosy pink. A black speck appeared below the clouds and before his horrified eyes grew instantly to the shape of a giant wheel. It plunged down, apparently at him, but hit instead on the far side if the field. The huge tire recoiled and it bounced into the air directly over their heads. Only Pere and his officers looked up as it sailed over. The wheel must have been a hundred feet in diameter and he could see clearly the treads on the tire, and the metal hub with its sheared supports, a stream of liquid still leading from some severed pipe. It bounced again, shaking the ground, and vanished from sight over the hill.

"What was that?" Pere asked, but no one answered him.

The group in the field were closer now and he could see they were pulling a plow assembled of odd pieces of junk. The two handles of the plow were the only identifiable parts: the arms of a robot welded into place, the hands extended and acting as handles. One of the men who had been tugging in a harness dropped it and walked over. He was naked to the waist, but wore a pair of gray uniform pants and high boots.

"The military!" he shouted when he saw their uniforms. "Wonderful! Wonderful!" He turned and ran away. A fine rain of metallic particles hit in the grass around them. Pere had the feeling he was going mad.