Leo Frankowski - Copernick's Rebellion

Nearing the top of the cliff, he scanned out to the west. About half of the power towers had fallen. The lines had been dead for days. As he watched, one more went, slowly crashing into the rustred dust. The center of the city was mostly empty. Two of the tallest buildings had fallen so far, clogging the main intersections. The few people still there moved quickly, furtively watching the remaining buildings. He focused in on one of them. Shabbily dressed and remarkably dirty, this man picked up a brick from a fallen skyscraper and threw it through a large window in a still-standing building. Afraid to go too far inside, he leaned past the broken glass and began filling a canvas bag with the contents of the display window.

Claymore focused closer, curious as to what this human was risking his life to get. Baubles! Crystallized carbon, gold, and silver. Crystallized aluminum oxide with a small percentage of chromium or magnesium. The stuff seemed to have no useful purpose except personal adornment. This human had collected more of it than he could carry. Strange. Contrasurvival.

A block over, another human, a female, was filling a plastic case with green paper certificates. Weird. But there was nothing in Claymore’s directives against it, so he scanned on.

He reached the top of the cliff and had to use his humanoid hands to make it over the lip. From there he turned back to “face” the crumbling city. Not that he had a face, or even a head. His body turned a brownish green to match the grass below his feet.

Scanning to the north, he saw a large group of humans crossing a shaky bridge to an island in the river. Trouble. As soon as transmission space was available, he thought to those below.

Claymore here. Is anyone near the island two miles due north of the city?

Jarid here, Claymore. I am. What can I do for you?

Claymore here. There are approximately twenty-three hundred humans crossing over to that island. The bridge leaving it is down, but they can’t see that from where they’re at. When the bridge they’re using goes they’ll be stranded. We’ll probably lose half of them.

Jarid here. I’ll get on it. Where are you calling from?

Claymore here. I’m on top of the sandstone cliffs south of the city.

Jarid here. I see you now. I suggest you stay there and direct us down here. We have only eighty-two LDUs here to take care of almost two million people. I wish we had some observation birds.

Claymore stifled a sob.

Claymore here. Will do. There are some strange things going on in the city.

Jarid here. Like what?

Claymore here. Humans in the city are foraging for baubles rather than food.

Jarid here. So? It’s what they usually do. Where have you been? The subject was discussed a week ago.

Claymore here. I just came out of shock. I lost my bird a month ago bringing down a bomber. But I’m functional now.

Jarid here. Sorry. I didn’t realize you were a Beta unit. From your name, I mean.

Claymore here. A claymore was a mine as well as a sword. I’m functionally an Alpha now. I’ll get used to it.

Jarid here. I’m sure you will. We’re a tough species. To fill you in on your earlier question, the consensus is that humans were never programmed to handle their present problems. The result is a clinging to obsolete value systems and generally aberrant behavior. Jarid out.

The above conversation took less than a second.

Claymore continued his scanning, occasionally making suggestions to other LDUs below. There were minor outbreaks and riots among the humans, but at least the LDUs didn’t have to face metallic weapons anymore.

Claymore! Gamma 5723 here. Go directly south at top speed. I’ll explain when you’re on your way.

Gamma units were somewhat telepathic with humans, that is, they could hear humans think, although they generally couldn’t talk to them. A recent development, they were few in number and so they generally concentrated on major emergencies. When a Gamma made a suggestion, an Alpha moved fast.

Claymore here. I’m on my way. What’s up?

Gamma 5723 here. Go one mile due south, then right, onto a gravel road. In approximately one mile you will come to a stone cabin on your right. There you will find six adult human males and one adult human female. The males are presently sequentially raping the female.

Claymore here. Rape? Oh, yes, One of the humans’ bisexual reproduction customs. Considered improper in most human cultures. But why trouble me with it? Rape is not on the forbidden list of human activities.

Gamma 5723 here. I’m not concerned with the rape. That’s been going on for hours. The house is the property of the female, and its construction is such that it will probably survive the present emergency. Furthermore, it contains a large supply of dehydrated camper’s food in plastic packages. The males have decided to kill the female to more easily take her property. Also, the males are presently despoiling some of the food supply.

Claymore here. Murder and destroying food are certainly forbidden activities for humans. But their actions are so irrational! Why destroy part of a food supply that is necessary to your own survival? And why go through the bother of impregnating a female of your own species when you are going to terminate her before she can possibly reproduce?

Gamma 5723 here. It has been some time since I heard of a human being accused of rationality.

Claymore here. But it’s countersurvival.

Gamma 5723 here. Very. Especially when you’ll be there in three minutes. I’m afraid you’ll have to go in alone. None of our brothers are near enough to help in time.

Claymore here. What would I need with help? I mean, if there are only six of them…

Gamma 5723 here. Unfortunately, one of them has a weapon, a semiautomatic thirty-caliber carbine.

Claymore here. Oh. That does complicate things. I thought that we had disposed of all of their iron and aluminum artifacts.

Gamma 5723 here. We pretty much have. But in this instance the human deduced what was happening. He sealed the weapon in an airtight plastic bag before it could become contaminated. The weapon is operational. The human plans to fire it through the bag and then reseal it. He has fifteen rounds in the clip.

Claymore here. Which means I’m up against an intelligent armed human, despite his irrationalities.

Gamma 5723 here. Good luck. Gamma 5723 out.

By this time, Claymore was fifty yards from the cliff and accelerating. He was on a partially wooded plateau, with short flat sections cut by deep fissures, some of them over forty feet wide. Most of these he could jump, but he had to circle some of them. On one occasion he had to climb a hundred yards down and up again just to travel eighty feet forward. It was maddeningly slow, and it took him more than six minutes to travel the two miles to the cabin. Most of the way he had to wind through forests, and he was hoping for good cover for his approach to the cabin.

No such luck. The cabin was in the center of an abandoned farm, with at least four hundred yards of open field in every direction. Claymore thrust his eye tentacles out through the foliage to survey his objective. It was a small building, perhaps two thousand square feet, and ancient, with stone walls and wooden window frames. The roof beams were heavy logs and—yes— pegged together. Aside from the door hinges, this would be one of the few buildings to remain intact. Certainly something a human would covet.

A human male was standing on the roof, his legs wide, turning occasionally to survey the terrain. He was holding the carbine.