started.’
‘Your question is meaningless. Questions of purpose have no objective validity. They can’t be subjected to any form of empirical investigation.’
Kastner lapsed into silence. He picked at his sleeve nervously, watching the port.
Across the time map the cable arms moved, tracing a line from the present back into the past. Ryan studied the motion of the arms. ‘We’re reaching the latter part of the war. The final stages. I’m going to rephase the ship and bring it out of the time flow.’
‘Then we’ll be back in the universe again?’
‘Among objects. In a specific continuum.’
Ryan gripped the power switch. He took a deep breath. The first great test of the ship had passed. They had entered the time stream without accident. Could they leave it as easily? He opened the switch.
The ship leaped. Kastner staggered, catching hold of the wall support. Outside the port a gray sky twisted and wavered. Adjustments fell into place, leveling the ship in the air. Down below them Terra circled and tilted as the ship gained equilibrium.
Kastner hurried to the port to peer out. They were a few hundred feet above the surface, rushing parallel to the ground. Gray ash stretched out in all directions, broken by the occasional mounds of rubbish. Ruins of towns, buildings, walls. Wrecks of military equipment. Clouds of ash blew across the sky, darkening the sun.
‘Is the war still on?’ Kastner asked.
‘The claws still possess Terra. We should be able to see them.’
Ryan raised the time ship, increasing the scope of their view. Kastner scanned the ground. ‘What if they fire at us?’
‘We can always escape into time.’
‘They might capture the ship and use it to come to the present.’
‘I doubt it. At this stage in the war the claws were busy fighting among themselves.’
To their right ran a winding road, disappearing into the ash and reappearing again later on. Bomb craters gaped here and there, breaking the road up. Something was coming slowly along it.
‘There,’ Kastner said. ‘On the road. A column of some sort.’
Ryan maneuvered the ship. They hung above the road, the two of them peering out. The column was dark brown, a marching file making its way steadily along. Men, a column of men, marching silently through the landscape of ash.
Suddenly Kastner gasped. ‘They’re identical! All of them are the same!’
They were seeing a column of claws. Like lead toys, the robots marched along, tramping through the gray ash. Ryan caught his breath. He had expected such a sight, of course. There were only four types of claws. These he saw now had all been turned out in the same underground plant, from the same dies and stampers. Fifty or sixty robots, shaped like young men, marched calmly along. They moved very slowly. Each had only one leg.
‘They must have been fighting among themselves,’ Kastner murmured.
‘No. This type was made this way. The Wounded Soldier Type. Originally they were designed to trick human sentries to gain entrance into regular bunkers.’
It was weird, watching the silent column of men, identical men, each the same as the next, plodding along the road. Each soldier supported himself with a crutch. Even the crutches were identical. Kastner opened and closed his mouth in revulsion.
‘Not very pleasant, is it?’ Ryan said. ‘We’re lucky the human race got away to Luna.’
‘Didn’t any of these follow?’
‘A few, but by the time we had identified the four types and were ready for them.’ Ryan took hold of the power switch. ‘Let’s go on.’
‘Wait.’ Kastner raised his hand. ‘Something’s going to happen.’
To the right of the road a group of figures were slipping rapidly down the side of a rise, through the ash. Ryan let go of the power switch, watching. The figures were identical. Women. The women, in uniforms and boots, advanced quietly toward the column on the road.
‘Another variety,’ Kastner said.
Suddenly the column of soldiers
‘Your question is meaningless. Questions of purpose have no objective validity. They can’t be subjected to any form of empirical investigation.’
Kastner lapsed into silence. He picked at his sleeve nervously, watching the port.
Across the time map the cable arms moved, tracing a line from the present back into the past. Ryan studied the motion of the arms. ‘We’re reaching the latter part of the war. The final stages. I’m going to rephase the ship and bring it out of the time flow.’
‘Then we’ll be back in the universe again?’
‘Among objects. In a specific continuum.’
Ryan gripped the power switch. He took a deep breath. The first great test of the ship had passed. They had entered the time stream without accident. Could they leave it as easily? He opened the switch.
The ship leaped. Kastner staggered, catching hold of the wall support. Outside the port a gray sky twisted and wavered. Adjustments fell into place, leveling the ship in the air. Down below them Terra circled and tilted as the ship gained equilibrium.
Kastner hurried to the port to peer out. They were a few hundred feet above the surface, rushing parallel to the ground. Gray ash stretched out in all directions, broken by the occasional mounds of rubbish. Ruins of towns, buildings, walls. Wrecks of military equipment. Clouds of ash blew across the sky, darkening the sun.
‘Is the war still on?’ Kastner asked.
‘The claws still possess Terra. We should be able to see them.’
Ryan raised the time ship, increasing the scope of their view. Kastner scanned the ground. ‘What if they fire at us?’
‘We can always escape into time.’
‘They might capture the ship and use it to come to the present.’
‘I doubt it. At this stage in the war the claws were busy fighting among themselves.’
To their right ran a winding road, disappearing into the ash and reappearing again later on. Bomb craters gaped here and there, breaking the road up. Something was coming slowly along it.
‘There,’ Kastner said. ‘On the road. A column of some sort.’
Ryan maneuvered the ship. They hung above the road, the two of them peering out. The column was dark brown, a marching file making its way steadily along. Men, a column of men, marching silently through the landscape of ash.
Suddenly Kastner gasped. ‘They’re identical! All of them are the same!’
They were seeing a column of claws. Like lead toys, the robots marched along, tramping through the gray ash. Ryan caught his breath. He had expected such a sight, of course. There were only four types of claws. These he saw now had all been turned out in the same underground plant, from the same dies and stampers. Fifty or sixty robots, shaped like young men, marched calmly along. They moved very slowly. Each had only one leg.
‘They must have been fighting among themselves,’ Kastner murmured.
‘No. This type was made this way. The Wounded Soldier Type. Originally they were designed to trick human sentries to gain entrance into regular bunkers.’
It was weird, watching the silent column of men, identical men, each the same as the next, plodding along the road. Each soldier supported himself with a crutch. Even the crutches were identical. Kastner opened and closed his mouth in revulsion.
‘Not very pleasant, is it?’ Ryan said. ‘We’re lucky the human race got away to Luna.’
‘Didn’t any of these follow?’
‘A few, but by the time we had identified the four types and were ready for them.’ Ryan took hold of the power switch. ‘Let’s go on.’
‘Wait.’ Kastner raised his hand. ‘Something’s going to happen.’
To the right of the road a group of figures were slipping rapidly down the side of a rise, through the ash. Ryan let go of the power switch, watching. The figures were identical. Women. The women, in uniforms and boots, advanced quietly toward the column on the road.
‘Another variety,’ Kastner said.
Suddenly the column of soldiers
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