“Forget it. I am not going anywhere on that. I’d rather walk. Hell, I’d rather crawl. I have my dignity to think of. I have a hard-won reputation as a cold-blooded assassin and a desperate warrior. One glimpse of me in Toby’s film, perched in one of those carriages with my knees up in my face, and no one will ever take me seriously again!”
Bruin Bear scratched his furry head. “I’m afraid this is the only means of transport available. There was a yellow-brick road once, but it was destroyed in the war. Besides, it never really went anywhere. It was just for show. These days, the smaller toys sometimes beg rides on the larger ones, but mostly we just walk. There are the aeroplanes, of course, but they never come down anymore. They don’t fight. They just fly. Forever in the sky, high above the world, far from the war and its troubles. Only the railway remains in use, and even that isn’t sacrosanct. Both sides have been known to dig up the rails, when there’s an advantage to be gained. The way should be clear now, but I can’t vouch for how long. So I really do recommend we leave. Now.”
“Shift it,” said the Sea Goat, glaring at all the humans impartially. “Or I’ll molt on you.”
Finlay glared at Toby and Flynn. “This particular part of our journey had better be very carefully edited. Or I will personally edit both of you with a blunt hacksaw.”
Toby looked at Flynn. “I think he means it.” Flynn nodded solemnly.
The Bear led them down the grassy verge to the railway tracks and helped the rebels settle themselves into the undersized carriages. It was surprisingly comfortable, once you got used to sitting with your knees in your face. The train was called Edwin, and had a high, cheerful voice. He chattered happily away about nothing in particular until the passengers were in place, and then he tooted his whistle several times, just for the hell of it, and set off down the tracks. It was a bumping, banging ride, even though Edwin couldn’t build much speed, and the carriages lurched back and forth as though they were at sea. There were no safety belts, so the rebels clung grimly to the sides of the carriages and each other. Bruin Bear tried to reassure them that the ride had been designed to be completely safe, and the rebels tried to look like they believed him. The Sea Goat just grinned sardonically. Edwin the train was shy at first, but once he realized they didn’t mind his talking to them, they couldn’t get him to shut up.
“Good to be carrying passengers again,” he said contentedly. “I mean, what use is a train, unless he’s carrying people somewhere? The other toys are very good, and let me take them for short rides now and again, when they can spare the time, but it’s not the same. They don’t care where they’re going. And they’re not people. I need to be doing something, something useful. I was designed to be of use, to fulfill a function, not just sit around thinking. Which is overrated, in my opinion. Thinking just gets in the way of a regular service. I chuff, therefore I am. And that’s all I need to be happy. But even apart from that, I am glad to see humans again. I missed you terribly. You were always so happy when I took you places. Laughing and shouting and pointing at things. You were all so happy, then.
“Then the bad toys came, and dug up my rails so I had to stop. They pulled my passengers out of the carriages and killed them. I wanted to stop the bad toys, but there was nothing I could do. They were fast and strong, and I couldn’t leave my rails. I didn’t even have any hands. I blew out steam, to keep the bad toys at bay, but I could only protect myself. Too much steam would only have hurt the passengers anyway.
“I shut my eyes so I wouldn’t see them die, but I could still hear the screams. They seemed to go on forever. Afterward, the bad toys left me alone. They were afraid I’d explode if they damaged me. I could have exploded anyway, and taken them with me, but I didn’t. I was afraid. I’d only been alive for such a short time, and I was so scared of dying.
“Bruin Bear saved me. He got my tracks repaired and started me running again. Found things that needed moving from one place to another. Gave my life meaning and purpose again. He does things like that. He’s Bruin Bear, after all. And now I have human passengers again. I can’t tell you how happy I am. And this time, I will be brave. I promise I will. I’ll die before I let another of my passengers come to harm.”
“Don’t try and comfort him,” said the Goat, when Edwin’s voice became choked with tears. “He just gets morbid, and tears make him rust. Pick up the speed, Edwin. The sooner we get to Toystown, the happier I’ll be. This is disputed territory, and you humans wouldn’t believe some of the things that are disputing it.”
“Don’t you listen to him, Edwin,” Bruin Bear said firmly. “You’re going quite fast enough as it is. We’ll have no showing off your sudden accelerations this trip. Remember what happened last time.”
“Don’t worry, Bear,” said the train. “I’ll be good. I’ve got people on board again.” And he sang a merry song and chuffed and tootled his way across the grassy plain.
He kept his speed at a constant twenty, and after a while the rebels became somewhat accustomed to the lurching motion of the carriages. Giles even came close to dozing off. There was nothing to do, and very little to look at. One grassy plain looks much like another. There were no trees, no vegetation, and no sign the war had ever got this far. Just endless oceans of waving grass, cut through by silver tracks. Flynn suggested a friendly game of cards, but after seeing the more than professional way he shuffled the cards, everyone politely declined. And so the rebels and the toys maintained a polite silence, each deep in his own thoughts. Finlay suddenly remembered something he’d been meaning to ask and leaned forward so his face was opposite the Bear’s.
“Who buried the recon team’s pinnace? And why?”
“We did,” said the Bear. “The Goat and I. We arrived too late to save the humans, but we were able to drive the bad toys off before they could get to the ship. The Goat can be quite ferocious when he has to be. And he was almost mad with rage then, to see so many humans dead again. We wrecked the ship’s engines, and then buried it, to put it out of temptation’s way. The bad toys are desperate to get offworld, you see, and take their war to Humanity. I’d like to have buried or at least concealed your ship, but there wasn’t time. We can always do it later.”
“Don’t worry,” said Finlay. “There are all kinds of unpleasant booby traps waiting for anyone who doesn’t have the right warm-up codes.”
Bruin Bear shook his head admiringly. “You humans. So tricky. But I wouldn’t be too confident. Some toys have learned to be tricky, too.”
He didn’t seem to have anything to add to that, so Finlay sat back in his seat. Somehow Julian had managed to get the seat next to him, rather than Evangeline, and the younger esper leaned over and murmured urgently in Finlay’s ear.
“Pardon me for being paranoid, but aren’t we being just a tiny bit too trusting here, Finlay? I mean, how do we know these are the good guys? Just because they say so, and look cuddly? Just because this thing opposite us looks like a character we all knew and loved in our childhood, we shouldn’t forget that it is by its own admission basically just a rogue Al originally created and programmed by Shub. For all we know, he could be taking us to some mass sacrificial slaughter, where they could all take turns at us, while we lasted.”
“No,” said Finlay calmly. “I don’t think so. Bruin Bear wouldn’t do that. If he wanted us dead, he and the Goat have had plenty of opportunities. All they’ve done so far is talk and smile us to death. Besides, if you can’t trust Bruin Bear, who can you trust?”
And then they both rocked in their seats as Edwin cut his speed suddenly, slowing almost to a crawl. All the humans looked ahead, but couldn’t see anything. Bruin Bear stood up in his seat, and stared ahead, one paw shading his eyes. “What is it, Edwin?”
“The tracks are out, some way ahead. Someone’s dug them up again.”
“I can’t see anything,” said Finlay.
“Our eyes were designed to be more than human,” said the Sea Goat. “We can see for miles.”
“I
can see if,” said Giles. “It doesn’t look too bad. Can we repair it?”
“Oh sure,” said Edwin. “I always carry spares these days. Just in case. With you humans to help, we should be finished inside an hour.”
“Okay,” said Bruin Bear. “Take us as far as you safely can, and then stop.” He sat down again, frowning heavily. The expression looked out of place on his round furry face. “I don’t like this,” he said suddenly to Finlay and Julian. “There’s no reason for anyone to dig up the tracks all the way out here, except to interrupt our journey. And since Edwin, the Goat, and I are not all that important, it can only mean that the bad toys know about you. Which could mean we are in deep doo-doo.”
Finlay looked around him. The grassy plains stretched away in every direction, open and empty and innocent. “Seems safe enough.”
The Bear growled suddenly, deep in his throat. It was a dark, disturbing sound. “Never take that for granted. Not in Summerland. Nothing is necessarily what it seems anymore.”
“Including you?”
“Including me. I’m not innocent anymore.”
The train slowly eased to a halt, in a cloud of steam. Bruin Bear and the Sea Goat jumped off and hurried forward. The humans got off more slowly, secretly glad for a chance to stretch their legs and ease aching posteriors. The train and its carriages had not been designed for long journeys. The Bear signaled for them to stay where they were while he and the Goat examined the damage. Edwin vented steam nervously, and then apologized. Bruin Bear leaned over the dug-up tracks and studied them thoughtfully. Half a dozen sleepers had been broken apart, and the pieces scattered. Where they had been was now a shallow pit in the grass. Dark loose earth showed clearly, rough and disturbed. The Bear knelt beside it. The Sea Goat frowned, and half reached out a hand to pull his friend back.
“Not too close, Bear. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
“You’ve always got a bad feeling about things.”
“And I’m usually right.”
The Bear looked back at the Goat, exasperated, and that was when the cloth hand burst up out of the broken earth and fastened around his ankle. Bruin Bear cried out in shock and alarm, and then toppled over backwards. He tried to scramble away, and the owner of the hand came rising up out of the pit it had dug under the tracks, squirming out of the loose earth like a maggot from an apple. It was a rag doll, stitched together from hundreds of different-colored patches, but there was metal in it, too, great steel staples holding it together like some ragged Frankenstein creature. Its cloth face crumpled with rage and hatred as it looked across at the humans by the train, and then its mouth stretched wide, stitches tearing apart, and it screamed. There was enough human emotion in the artificial voice—a horrid implacable howl of fury and eternal enmity—to chill the soul.
Bruin Bear kicked his foot as hard as he could, but couldn’t break free. The rag doll pulled itself over him as he struggled, and raised a cloth hand holding a long machete. The doll snarled at the Bear, and then swung the machete down with savage speed. It was only a few inches from Bear’s head when the energy bolt from a disrupter tore the cloth arm away from its body, and sent the burning arm flying through the air, still clutching its machete. The Sea Goat stuffed the gun back inside his trench coat, and hurried forward. The Bear and the doll were still struggling furiously. Bruin Bear rolled over suddenly, pulling the doll beneath him, and sharp metal claws erupted from his paws. He tore into the rag doll with vicious strength, and shreds of cloth flew through the air. The Goat had almost reached them when the earth under the broken tracks boiled and seethed, and a dozen more rag dolls came clawing up out of the ground, like the undead from their graves.
“Don’t just stand there!” Edwin the train cried to the stunned humans. “Do something! Help them!”
“What the hell,” said Finlay, starting forward with his sword in his hand. “Anyone who hates Bruin Bear has to be one of the bad guys.”
The others moved quickly after him, and soon a battle was raging furiously around the dug-up tracks. The rag dolls were incredibly strong and unbelievably limber, their limbs and bodies bending at impossible angles as they launched their attacks. They all had swords and machetes of some kind, the jagged blades crusted with old dried blood. The rebels’ swords cut deep into the cloth bodies and out again, but did no harm. Stuffing flew on the air, but the rag dolls just smiled their awful smiles and kept pressing forward. They bobbed and weaved in horrible contortions, attacking without pause for breath, filled with an endless savagery. Julian stabbed one where its heart should have been, and the doll just snarled at him, pulling itself along the blade to get at him. Julian put his foot against the doll’s yielding chest and forced it away as he withdrew his blade. The doll grabbed at his ankle, and he had to jump back to avoid its grasp. It came after him, grinning remorselessly, and Julian wondered where the hell he could hit the damned thing and do some damage.
Finlay and Evangeline fought back-to-back. Evangeline’s skill with a sword was strictly limited, but Finlay’s speed and skill were enough to keep the dolls at arm’s length, while she guarded his back. She cut and hacked doggedly, and tried to keep her horror to herself as the dolls just kept coming back for more. Finlay gutted one doll with a savage sideways sweep, and was surprised to see dark fluids that might have been blood oozing from the tear in its rag stomach. The doll screamed furiously, and fought on, as strong as before.
Giles Deathstalker opened up a wide space around him, his great strength and long sword picking up the rag dolls and throwing them aside. A sneer curled his lip. As a man who’d once been Warrior Prime of the first Empire, he felt fighting a bunch of dolls rather beneath him. Until he realized that for all his efforts, he wasn’t doing them any real damage, or even slowing them down much. Me was facing an enemy that refused to lie down and die, and a slow chill went through him as he realized he didn’t know what to do to stop them.
Toby and Flynn stayed well back, getting it all on film. Flynn’s camera hovered above the fray, close enough to get all the details, but high enough to be out of reach. Toby had a feeling he ought really to be joining in, but comforted himself with the thought that if even these trained fighters were having a hard time, the odds were he wouldn’t be able to contribute anything useful anyway. But he still felt guilty.
“Go for the heads!” he yelled above the roar of battle cries and screaming dolls. “They must have some kind of control mechanisms; go for them!”
Finlay beheaded one of the dolls. The head went bouncing away across the grass, still grimacing, and the body just went on fighting.
“Of course,” said Flynn, “Since these are automatons, there’s no guarantee their brains are located in their heads.”
The human fighters were slowly being forced back together in a tight knot, fighting off their ragged opponents with desperate strength. No matter what damage they took, the dolls just kept pressing forward. They were screaming endlessly now, full of rage and hatred, the horrid sound continuing long after human lungs would have failed. Giles had boosted, but even that extra strength and speed wasn’t helping much. The cloth limbs still moved with eerie suppleness, their lack of joints giving them the constant advantage of attacks from unexpected angles. There seemed no end to the dolls’ energy. They had no muscles to grow tired.
Bruin Bear and the Sea Goat fought to get back and help the humans, but other dolls held them at bay. The Bear and the Goat fought with animal ferocity, slowly tearing the dolls to pieces. They couldn’t bear the thought of more humans dying on their world.
Until finally Julian Skye threw aside his sword and fired up his mind. A doll’s machete streaked for his throat, and then suddenly all the dolls were thrown backwards by a wave of pure psionic energy erupting out of the young esper. The psistorm swept the rag dolls away like straws in a hurricane, tearing them to pieces. The humans clung together, untouched. Bruin Bear and the Sea Goat clung to the ground as dolls went flying over their heads. Energy spit and cra
ckled on the air, and the dolls were torn limb from limb, stitch from stitch, the pieces scattered widely across the grassy plain. In the end, only small twitching pieces were left lying around the silver railway tracks. The humans slowly lowered their swords and looked about them as Bruin Bear and the Sea Goat applauded wildly. Edwin was sounding his steam whistle over and over again, almost beside himself with relief and excitement. Giles turned to glare at Julian.
“Why the hell didn’t you do that sooner?”
And then he stopped as the esper fell forward onto his knees. Blood leaked thickly from Julian’s nose and ran down over his mouth. He coughed harshly, and blood from deep inside him sprayed out into the air. His face was bone white. He started to fall forward, and Giles grabbed him by the shoulders. The Deathstalker sat down and cradled the young esper in his arms. The rebels started to crowd around him, but Giles waved them back so the esper had plenty of air. The Bear and the Goat came quickly over to join them, eyes wide at the sight of so much sudden blood. Julian shook violently for a moment, and then slowly began to settle. His breathing grew stronger and steadier, and the flow of blood down his face slowed. He sat up, raised a hand to his mouth, and then grimaced when it came away bloody. Evangeline offered him a handkerchief. He nodded his thanks and mopped at his face.
“Damn,” he said thickly. “That was a bad one. I’ll be all right in a minute. It’s not as bad as it looks. I’m afraid ever since the mind techs had me, I’ve been a bit fragile. My esp isn’t reliable anymore, or I’d have used it sooner.”