‘Wait,’ she said, so softly. ‘They trained us in this when I was conscripted. Take a few moments to tune in with your surroundings.’
Susan did so.
The dark buildings around her seemed to solidify into view, partially illuminated by the dark sky above. She wondered if any of them housed others of the half-fused, ancient and forgotten. Strange, it was so un-Artemisian, leaving metal in a place without a purpose.
‘Okay,’ said Vignette. She began to move down the wall, heading back the way that Susan had come earlier.
‘Not that way!’ said Susan. ‘He’s back there somewhere.’
‘There’s nothing the other way,’ said Vignette. ‘Just the Centre City. We don’t want to go there…’
Her words were lost in a flurry of movement. Susan saw something big and black hurtle past, she heard the clatter of metal on metal, of metal slamming onto brick and stone.
‘Stupid, Stupid, Stupid!’
It was the Storm Trooper, it was on top of Vignette, had both her hands clasped in one of his. He was sitting on her chest, his big body humming with power.
‘Only two places to hide. Through this door or that one. I only had to sit and wait to see which you emerged from. But hold on…’ He looked closer, looked into Vignette’s eyes. ‘You’re not the woman I found earlier. Who are you?’
Susan brought down both her hands as hard as she could on the back of the Storm Trooper’s neck, hoping to break the coil there. There was a dull thud and pain shot through the electro-muscles of her hand.
The Storm Trooper moved so fast, his arm swung back and caught Susan’s head, cracking an eye and sending an electric snowstorm fizzing across her sight.
Vignette had twisted one hand free, but she wasn’t fighting, she was patiently fiddling with the Storm Trooper’s wrist.
‘Hey, stop that!’
The Storm Trooper turned his attention back to Vignette, and Susan dived for his free arm, grabbing it through the storm of electricity that danced across her broken vision. It was enough time for Vignette to finish what she was doing: she had unshipped the Storm Trooper’s hand. He let out an electronic roar and brought his other hand down on her head, denting it.
Now Susan grabbed him around the neck again and set to work finding her way through the panelling there, trying to locate his coil. Bright lights swirled around her, she wasn’t sure if it was feedback or the stars above.
‘What are you doing, you rusty Tokvah? Get off me!’
The Storm Trooper wasn’t shouting at her. Her world lurched as he got to his feet, and Susan saw Vignette there on the floor, a wicked smile on her face, twisted metal around her hands, and she realized that Vignette had pulled it from the Storm Trooper, pulled it from between his legs.
‘You little Spartz!’
Vignette giggled, tugged harder at the pliable blue wire. The Storm Trooper yelled again, stamped down hard on Vignette’s thigh. She let out an electronic squeal of pain, but she tugged harder on the wire. The Storm Trooper jerked back and Susan, still clinging to his neck, fought to keep her grip. She scrabbled again at the panelling there, but he was too well designed, there was no easy access to his coil.
Now the Storm Trooper reached back with his one remaining hand, and Susan saw her chance. The panelling at his shoulder lifted a little as he raised his arm, and she took hold of it, jerked it upwards, stabbed up into exposed electromuscle and smiled grimly as he shrieked. Vignette kept pulling more wire from the Storm Trooper, wrapping it around his legs, tangling him up, sending him mad with rage. He kicked at her, catching her full in the chest, denting it badly, but still she fought on. Susan wriggled her fingers in the electromuscle at the shoulder, trying to get a grip, trying to tangle it, squeeze it, short it. She sent as much current through her hand as she could, there was a blue flash and the arm fell to his side, useless.
And that was the beginning of the end for the Storm Trooper. He fought viciously, he had strength and power on his side, but he was fighting two women who were in the grip of a passion that had lain dormant all this time they had been in Artemis. It was a hatred that had grown in muffled darkness, repressed and compressed whilst the women struggled to survive. Now it arose with a vengeance, with a spitefulness and a loathing that was taken out on his metal body. They didn’t kill him: they tore off his metal panelling and removed his electromuscle in strips, they humiliated him, tying him up in his own wire. Then they left him, a mind marooned in a broken body whilst they stripped parts from him to repair themselves. Vignette removed one of his eyes and used it to replace the one of Susan’s he had broken. Susan bent some more of his metal with her own hands and used it to patch Vignette’s broken chest.
‘Go to the making rooms,’ she said. ‘They will fix you up there. You will make a good mother of Artemis. You handle metal well.’
The Storm Trooper watched them with his one remaining eye. Occasionally, he let out an electronic moan. Eventually, Vignette detached his voicebox so they didn’t have to listen to him.
‘You seemed so afraid when I first saw you in the base of the tower,’ said Susan.
‘I was,’ said Vignette. ‘I ran away for too long. Perhaps now is the time to fight. First, though, I will go to the making rooms. And then, who knows? What about you?’
‘I’ll head for the Centre City,’ said Susan. ‘Perhaps my friend was taken there.’
‘You’ll only get so far dressed in that body.’
‘Then perhaps I will find myself on the front line. There are worse things that could happen.’
‘Will that help find your friend?’
‘No.’
Vignette reached out and touched Susan’s shell, pulled loose a piece of swarf.
‘Stay smart,’ she said, suddenly practical. ‘Listen. I heard that the Generals are in disagreement. My advice, find one of the weaker ones and attach yourself to their staff. They’ll be grateful for your support. And you’ll be closer to the centre of power.’
‘Find a General? I don’t know anything about them.’
‘Learn. Go in search of Spoole, he’s isolated now.’
‘Spoole? He’s the robot who had my city destroyed. If I were ever to meet him, I think I would kill him.’
Vignette smiled.
‘So you say. I always thought I would fight to the death, and yet look at me now, running away to hide in the middle of the enemy’s city. Until you live the reality, you can never be sure the way your mind is woven. It turns out that my mother wove my mind to place my survival above all else. Would killing Spoole help you find your friend? Would it help you find your husband?’
Susan said nothing. She knew the way her mind was woven: her mother had made her mind to look after her husband, first and foremost. It was a current-draining moment, to realize that her thoughts of revenge meant nothing compared to this truth: that she could calmly work with the man who was ultimately responsible for her child’s death if it brought her closer to Karel.
‘You understand what I’m talking about, don’t you?
They gazed at each other for a moment. Vignette looked down at the broken body of the Storm Trooper.
‘He’ll have heard everything we said.’
Whatever cold hatred had filled Susan’s mind in the middle of the fighting was suddenly gone.
‘We have to kill him,’ said Vignette.
‘I know,’ said Susan. ‘But I don’t think I can.’
‘I can,’ said Vignette.
She bent down said something so softly that Susan didn’t hear it. Then she reached around behind his neck and broke his coil.
‘What did you say to him?’ asked Susan.
Vignette wore a nasty expression.
‘I told him that his wire was weak and of low quality.’
‘That was cruel.’
‘He would have killed us!’
‘He was only acting the way he was woven.’ Susan was suddenly sad.
