“Thanks.”
Roderic remained steadfast in place, overwhelmed by the absurdity of the scene unfolding before his eyes. Acrid smoke filled the air—part burning rubber, part scorched cotton and charred meat.
O’Connor returned with a two-meter-long rocket launcher designed to rest on the operator’s shoulder, equipped with a high-yield tactical missile. “This is the only round we have for it. I’m not sure how to—”
“I’ve got it, son.” Colonel Moore braced himself against the battlements, took the Javelin launcher, and set the controls. Settling it on his shoulder, he said, “Ready when you are.”
“Let’s give the army another minute,” said Roderic.
Standing clear of the back of the launcher, he watched the relentless advance of the metal warriors as a ribbon of white and silver snaked toward his home. Higher. Closer. Every steel foot came down in perfect time with the other units, as if they all had a single brain. Roderic remembered comic books with cartoon robots. These didn’t look like the ones in comic books; even so, he never believed they could be real until today. He offered a silent prayer—hope, the only barrier to absolute despair.
“It’ll take about ten seconds to initiate,” Moore said, waiting for Roderic to give the order. Step by step, the machines advanced, now only fifty meters from the hall’s entrance.
Roderic raised his hand, about to issue the command to destroy the last section of centuries-old rock-hewn road leading to Highcrest Hall, when the column stopped. He blinked, then glanced around Stonevale. Every mechanical soldier had frozen in place. “What in Ruin?”
In unison, the robots shouldered their weapons, pivoted, and marched back the way they’d come. Verdancian and Republic guns continued to fire, sometroops racing after the machines. Roderic picked up a signaling flag and flailed it.
“Cease fire!” he yelled. “Save your bullets!”
The column on the road to Highcrest Hall now retreated peacefully, as if going for a Sunday stroll. Relieved and confused, Roderic repeated the command to cease fire. Pops, cracks, and booms faded into an eerie silence. Verdancian and Republic soldiers stared wide-eyed, unsure what to do. The two armies, locked together to repel the robots, turned wary expressions on each other.
Roderic raced to the platform over Fort Calder’s main gates, snatched up the bullhorn. “Everybody, stop. I call on the commander of the Red River Republic Army. Will you grant a one-hour truce?”
From somewhere on the edge of the city, a man’s voice resonated through a loudspeaker. “All Republic soldiers return to camp. I will meet with General Calder at the entrance to town.”
“Let me go with you,” insisted Lieutenant Rushing as he limped along at Calder’s side down the ruined Main Street. “You can’t go out there by yourself. A security detail. Twenty armed guards.”
“Thanks, Jerry, but no,” Roderic said with a friendly smile. “If they want to murder me, neither you nor twenty guards will make a difference. I need you to help bring our wounded into the infirmary.” He frowned, glancing at Rushing. “Do we still have an infirmary?”
“Last I heard, it hadn’t been damaged.”
Roderic nodded. “Stay here.”
The general stepped out into the open. The cloud cover looked as if it might rain, though no drops had fallen yet. An open-sided canopy tent had been erected a hundred meters from the edge of town. Iron Army troops and vehicles formed lines at an equal distance behind it. A single figure sat at a table under the cover. Though parched and covered in foul-smelling grime, Roderic strode to it with renewed vigor.
The man under the tent stood as he neared. He was much cleaner. “Welcome, General Calder. I’m General Roundtree, your counterpart.Here, have a seat and enjoy a cup of cool lemonade. I understand it is one of your people’s favorite refreshing beverages.”
“Thank you, General Roundtree.” Roderic extended a hand, and they shook. He took the seat and sipped the drink.
“Calder, this has been the most inexplicable day of my career,” Roundtree said. There was a quiet confidence about the stout, silver-haired man, as if he’d lived his whole life bearing the authority of his current post.
“I must agree with you about that.”
Roundtree met his gaze, examining Roderic with eyes that seemed to peer straight through to his soul. “What do you know about them?”
“I received a message by pigeon, but not until after the machines arrived,” he answered honestly. “The original dispatch must have been lost. It just said that robots were coming from Appalachia without human operators. We don’t know why, or why they suddenly left.”
“Yes, most troubling.” Roundtree lit a pipe and took a puff. “I propose a forty-eight-hour ceasefire so we can both retrieve our wounded and try to gain an intelligence report about those rusting robots. Their arrival could change everything. President Irons needs to hear about this.”
“Forty-eight hours is satisfactory.” Maintaining his professional composure, Roderic was elated with the proposal. He’d been ready to accept much less time. “Furthermore, I agree to share any reports I might receive regarding our uninvited mechanical guests.”
Roundtree nodded with a courteous smile. Roderic drank more of his lemonade, the liquid helping to clear his mouth and throat of grime.
“I just want to let you know,” the Iron Realm general said in a sincere tone, “my scouts made certain your civilian population had vacated the city before I rolled in the troops. General Garcia can wage whatever war seems justifiable to him, but I reserve the right to do the same.”
Roderic met his adversary’s gaze with respect. “History will remember you as an honorable man.”
Color flushed into Roundtree’s cheeks, and he cocked his head to the side, pulling his pipe from his lips. “General Calder, I believe that’s the highestcompliment anyone’s ever paid me. If fate hadn’t placed us on opposing sides ...” He let it go at that.