The Empress

Fifteen

Baroness Nina Droad took possession of new funding and gathered a force of Twilighters under her banner, the likes of which hadn’t been seen in decades-but Sixty-Two struck first. The mech rebels were not like humans. They worked around the clock without complaint and suffered from vastly less bureaucracy. Once they decided upon a course of action, they behaved almost like a single being.

Oddly enough, Sixty-Two found his endeavors to free the minds of his mech army slowed down their efficiency in the area of organization and production. But he hoped he would gain at least a cadre of leaders who were able to think for themselves. True individuals who were able to make independent judgments. The first dozen mechs had already been through the slow, painful process of reconversion. He had not attempted to reunite them with their pasts, but only with their emotions and self-determination thought processes.

So far, there had only been a single casualty, and this had not been due to any known fault in the procedure. One mech, as apparently normal as all the rest before the reconversion, had freed himself from the restraints as soon as he was able and run off into the desert. He’d never uttered a word, but mech witnesses said later he brushed past them, making the odd, wheezing sounds Sixty-Two had come to know as mech tears.

The mech had proceeded to run off a cliff at the highest point without a moment’s pause in his stride. He plunged seven hundred feet into a rocky ravine. At the bottom, jagged stones projected upward to meet him. He’d taken pains to land flat upon his back, which was a mech’s most vulnerable point. The door that led into the braincase was located there. Despite being insulated by gels and liquids, the shock had ruptured the brain tissue inside. When they found him, his lifeless orbs stared blindly up at the unrelenting red star that hung forever over Sunside.

Sixty-Two found this response disturbing. Had the mech been so overwhelmed with grief at his fate he’d decided to kill himself that very moment? Or had he been considering the idea for a long time and been unable to act upon it until mentally freed by the process? He doubted he would ever know the truth.

Still, he continued until he had a dozen or so mentally-freed mechs. They only had one mind-scrubbing machine to do the work, so the process was painstakingly slow. He interviewed the surviving mechs after freeing them, and found them to be a much more interesting group. One individual named Bellevue wanted to eat food-something which mechs were capable of, but which was largely pointless for them. They lived with a small amount of glucose and lubricants, usually administered as a frothing brown beverage. This Bellevue craved cakes, meats and beer-even though he couldn’t taste any of them.

Others had similar quirks. Sixty-Two wondered if these personality details were holdovers from past memories, or instinctive behaviors built into the emotional wetware humans kept inside their skulls. These minds were a tangle, of that he was certain. But he pressed onward in any case and named seven of them as his captains, including the insatiably hungry Bellevue. Each captain was given command of a hundred mech perrupters and bolstered by another fifty laborers that had been modified for combat. These last didn’t have guns for arms, but wielded machetes with thick, forged blades of hammered steel. They had used the walls of captured mining facility structures as raw materials for these weapons.

All told, Sixty-Two had more than a thousand mechs at his back when he marched toward Twilight again. Their first target was the small border town of Dolleren, which sat in a mountainous region of Twilight near Sunside. Dolleren had a light industrial center sector around the production of generic cpus and wire-harnesses. Both products were valuable to the mechs as replacement parts.

The mechs met very little resistance, and stormed the walls effortlessly. The few defenders fired a thin spray of laser bolts, then promptly threw down their arms when they realized they were facing overwhelming numbers.

Unfortunately, the defenders managed a lucky shot and killed two mechs in Captain Bellevue’s company. This occurred on the opposite side of the town from Sixty-Two’s position, and Captain Bellevue was thus free to apply his own judgment as to how his company should respond.

The results were nothing less than horrendous. By the time Sixty-Two led his own forces to the center of the town to see what all the noise was about, he found humans fleeing and lying in bloody heaps on the town square. Males, females and young alike had been slaughtered. At the center of it all stood Captain Bellevue, his metal jaws masticating as he ripped limbs from the corpses and chewed them. Gore ran down over his metal body. His orbs shifted from side-to-side excitedly. Sixty-Two got the impression he wanted to taste each victim of the massacre.

“Captain Bellevue, can you explain your actions?”

The Captain spat out bits of bone and gristle, as if clearing his throat, even though his voice was actually generated by a speaker in his chassis. “They killed two of my mechs, sir.”

“And you felt slaughtering the town was an appropriate response?”

“I did.”

Sixty-Two looked around himself in sick alarm. “These people are not even the troops from the walls. They are helpless civilians.”

“May I suggest,” said Bellevue, plucking with his grippers at a fresh pile of gore, “you recall how they mistreated our own people a few ten-days ago. They came upon us without warning in the desert and slaughtered the entire populace.”

“You claim this was an act of vengeance?”

Bellevue turned his orbs down the street-they seemed unsteady in his head. “Yes, partly. I also wanted to taste their flesh.”

“You can’t taste anything, fool!”

“Yes…it was not as satisfactory as I’d hoped it would be.”

Sixty-Two demoted Captain Bellevue and ordered him back to the base camps in Sunside. There, his ferocity would be warranted if another invading force came from the Twilighters.

Sixty-Two surveyed the carnage with unease. The humans had been heartless before. Now, he had given them good reason to continue in that vein. This had not been his intent. He’d believed he could show the humans he was dangerous, and they’d best leave them alone. He’d thought by showing they were strong enough to defend themselves when attacked, they might work out a basis for a truce of sorts. Now, however…

He kicked at a child’s doll. The limbs were all missing, and there was blood darkening the street below it. Sixty-Two wondered how this would all end.

Realizing he’d started a war, and would need fresh troops, he headed to the mech charging bays and shut-down pens. He freed the mechs there-or rather, he became their new master.

Two days after the massacre at Dolleren, Nina Droad found herself on the town’s High Street with eyes drawn to slits. She sat on her mount and glided slowly through the town, absorbing the scene. She’d seen the vids already, of course. The mechs had swept into the town in an organized force and brushed aside the paltry defenses. Then one group of them had begun a senseless slaughter. The images of a mech chewing on limbs was particularly disturbing. The technicians could not fathom how their conditioning had been so perverted. Was there a virus involved? Could a destructive group be behind the rebellion, bent on anarchy?

Watching the mech commander and the cannibal mech discuss matters in the street, Nina had her own suspicions. The commander wasn’t happy with the cannibal, that much was clear. But how could a mech underling do anything other than what its master demanded of it? The only possible answer was that a number of the mechs were free of their conditioning. For whatever reason, they were thinking on their own and doing as they pleased. Perhaps the cannibal had been a gourmet in his past life, and now enjoyed sampling the meats of other sentient beings.

None of that mattered. What did matter was the clear implication that these mechs were striking back as a reprisal for what she herself had done. She understood that, looking down at the corpses organized in stacked transparent caskets for burial.

When the summons came that evening to attend to the Ruling Council of Lords, she was not surprised. They had taken longer to contact her than she had suspected they might.

The formalities went on longer than before, it seemed to her today. She stayed stony-faced through it all, giving away nothing of her internal feelings of guilt and remorse. The mechs had struck the first blow, killing her beloved Leon. She had responded by killing hundreds of them in turn. Now, they’d slain half a town. Where would it end? Who would strike the final blow?

She straightened in her chair and faced the vid pickup. Do not reveal even a hint of worry, she told herself sternly. There was only one option open to her now, only one direction in which she could attempt to guide the council.

“Baroness,” Duchess Embrak addressed her, “so kind of you to meet with the council.”

“It is my pleasure,” Nina said. She did not roll her eyes and add: as if I had any choice.

“We shall see,” said the Duchess ominously. “Would you report to us the results of your latest activities?”

Nina paused. “I have not made a move with my forces. We are still gathering strength-”

“Are you not now standing within the ruins of Dolleren?”

“Yes, madam.”

“Then tell us what you are doing there.”

“Another mech raid has occurred, milady. Unfortunately, we were not able to get here in time. But rest assured, the mechs will not get away with this massacre. They will be punished resoundingly.”

“Punishment is not enough. These attacks must stop.”

“Indeed. And they will stop, once the rebellion is stamped out forever.”

Duchess Embrak glowered at her. Nina resisted the urge to smile faintly in return. She knew the Duchess had not intended the discussion to go in this direction. It was supposed meant to be a witch-hunt-with Nina playing the starring role as the witch.

“Let us discuss the root of the matter,” the Duchess pressed onward. “The war has escalated due to your actions. What had been a few minor incursions now has come to this-a town of innocents slaughtered.”

Nina feigned surprise. “Do I hear rightly? I’m being blamed for the actions of insane mechs? May I refer you to vid clip sixteen-”

“There is no need-”

“I ask the council to view the clip, as it is critical evidence.”

There was murmur of support from the council. Duchess Embrak looked annoyed.

“Very well, play it,” she said.

The screen lit up with the towering figure of a mech. He stood over a dying civilian, plucking away limbs and thoughtfully chewing on them. Every councilmember gasped and muttered.

“I fail to see how this atrocity-” began the Duchess.

“Thank you!” Nina interjected. “That is the precise word I was hunting for. This atrocity was committed by a mech mere hours ago, while I built my army many leagues away. Yet somehow, this is my fault? I could understand accusing the mech’s conditioners for drunkenness, but this-”

The councilors muttered with increasing volume as she spoke. Finally, a voice broke loose from the others: “No Nina, it was no fault of yours! Metal beasts, they are!”

“Thank you,” Nina said, but she did not take her eyes from the Duchess.

For her own part, the Duchess seemed to realize she was losing sway over her own council. She swiftly changed tacts. “Very well-stated. I am in complete agreement, Baronness. Now, let us proceed to our next step.”

“Which is?” Nina asked.

“Why, aren’t you going to tell us? This is, after all, your war my dear. You wanted it, you have it, and now you must lead us to victory. Tell us your plans.”

Nina sat as tall and straight as she was able. In her face, she felt her pulse pounding. She hoped she wasn’t blushing. “I need more troops. I require more money to gather them. Twice again what I have been given-as a beginning. The problem is much larger than I had hoped it would be. The mechs number in the thousands. They will slay us all in our beds. Today it was Dolleren, but tomorrow it may well be Lavender City or Shadeton.”

Many of the lords present lived in the affluent cities she listed, and there was a renewed level of sound from the councilmembers.

Duchess Embrak raised her fine-boned hand. “Fear-mongering isn’t appreciated here, Baroness. You list absurdities.”

“Fear-mongering? Perhaps then, you can tell me what I should do with the army you asked me to raise. Should I march into Sunside and surrender to the rebels? Should I disarm and take up crooning with lake-fish? Or is there some other form of appeasement you would prefer?”

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.

“I think that’s his brain,” she said. “I pulled it out. The rear access panel wasn’t locked, fortunately.”

“I see,” he said. “Thank you, Lizett.”

Lizett walked around Captain Bellevue’s metal corpse, looking at it appreciatively. “You know, I think he’d make a fine statue as he is. We could mount him in our courtyard.”

“Uh, I suppose we could,” Sixty-Two said. He looked up at Lizett thoughtfully. She seemed fascinated by Bellevue’s corpse, and even reached out with her grippers to make adjustments to his frozen pose. To Sixty-Two, it seemed a grotesque practice.

What crime had brought her to be convicted and sent to Sunside as a mech? He could not help but wonder about it, and he also could not help thinking he didn’t want to know the truth.

Later on, as his obedient mech troops carried him to the workshop and repaired his chassis, he planned out his march toward Nightside. They must move soon, before the Twilighters came to strike them again.