Killeen blinked in astonishment. Arthur was babbling in his mind, a thin excited voice which he batted away like a fly. “Tell us what you remember before you came here.”

“I was a worker for the humans who built the first Arcologies. Then, later, Citadels. I designed and labored for the three Citadels Pawn.”

“When did you run away to the mechs?” Hatchet demanded roughly, suspiciously.

“I did not run away!” The machine sounded insulted, like a woman whose honor has been slighted in a casual comment. “Some human machines did so, I know. I was not among them! I was taken.”

“Co-opted?” Shibo asked.

“My circuits overridden. New imperatives written directly into my substrate.”

Killeen said, “They took the Citadel?” and watched the machine carefully. He knew of no machines controlled by men, ever. Certainly Family Bishop had none at the time of the Calamity.

“Oh, no. No. In those ages the mechs were a small band. They avoided humanity’s Citadels, their festivals for breeding, all. They captured me when I was… was… was… was…”

The mech’s audio rasped as it went into a circular-command loop. Something it yearned to say was blocked by a deeper prohibition.

“Stop!” Killeen ordered. He was beginning to believe the machine. His Arthur Aspect piped in:

We termed them “manmechs,” in my day. The Expedition had an entire complement of intelligent machines, after all, and kept them in good running order. Otherwise, how could the first generation have been kindled? Humanmade robots united the sperm and ova brought from Earth. They tended the young, grew the first food—

So they did! Doubly evil, then, the manmechs’ own perverse and traitorous act, to form alliance with those who pillaged the Chandeliers and now hound us in every cranny. This is an enemy of all mankind, this thing that insults us with its bark and woman’s soft tones. Kill it! That is the only—

The mech civilizations captured this manmech. You cannot attribute evil to it if it had no choice! The mechs transformed some of its functions, but apparently never extracted its fundamental human-command overrides.

Killeen asked, “How come they didn’t just tear it up, mine it for materials?”

It knows us. They kept this foul betrayer because it can deceive us yet again! That is why I command you to destroy it. Now! Yet—

Probably it satisfies some arcane function in mech society. Or its survival from the early days may be mere chance. I advise against any sudden action such as the frothing nonsense Nialdi advances.

You risk all if you suffer the traitor to—

Killeen cut off the Nialdi Aspect. He had no time for that now. Nialdi and Arthur kept sputtering and sparring with each other. He let them run as tiny mouse-voices in the back of his mind, to bleed off their tensions, but otherwise ignored them.

The machine coughed, barked angrily three times, and came back to normal. “I… am sorry. I cannot reveal that information without a key word command.”

“How’d the mechs get you?” Hatchet asked.

“There was nothing I could do. I went with the mech civilization and lost my place at the foot of beloved humanity.” These words were darkly plaintive, half from broken memories and half a plea for understanding.

The cluster of humans looked at one another, confused. “You figure it tells true?” Cermo-the-Slow asked Hatchet.

“Could be.”

“Damn strange, you ask me,” Cermo said flatly, shaking his head.

“Mechs’ve never tried this before,” Shibo said. “Not like a mech trick, this. I trust it.”

Killeen said, “Yeasay. Mechs just try kill us, not confuse us.”

The Kings and Rooks spoke, guardedly agreeing. The ancient manmech’s acoustic sensors swiveled eagerly to ward each speaker in turn, small polymer cups tilting around its oblong body.

Hatchet’s yellow upper teeth chewed at his lip, his triangular face for once giving away his uncertainty. He reached up and unconsciously fingered his knobby chin, squeezing it slightly, as if to press firmness into the rest of his face. “Okay. So what? We’re ’bout done here. Let’s

go.”

The machine barked nervously, a high animated yelp. Then the womanly voice murmured, “But no! You cannot leave me here, sir. I am yours. Humanity’s.”

Hatchet looked uncomfortable. “Say now, I…”

“But you must.” The woman’s voice gained an edge of seductive softness. “I have been loyal to you these long times. And I must deliver my message to the Citadel Pawn.”

“Citadel Pawn’s destroyed,” Killeen said. “We are all the Citadel Families that remain.”

“No! Gone? But then well I… well I… well I…” “Shut up!” Hatchet said irritably. “Come on, let’s get movin’.” He walked away.

“No, I must follow. You are my—”

“Yeasay, follow,” Shibo said gently. “But quiet.”

There were only a few more items on the Crafter’s list. The party carried these out to the grate-door. The Crafter was approaching as they shouldered the last pieces onto the pile. Suddenly the grate-door began rising.

“Get to it!” Hatchet called.

At his signal the team began to quickly carry the items out and load them into a side pouch which the Crafter popped open. Killeen and Shibo and Cermo joined in the hurried scramble. Only moments before they had been joking at the curious machine. Now there was a taut watchfulness as they finished the job, fully exposed to the slanting pale light of Denixrise.

Killeen and Shibo carried Toby out as the last pieces went into the pouch. They got him safely onto a ledge halfway up the Crafter body. They were all getting tired and it was hard to get Toby up the incline. Bud broke into Killeen’s attention:

Crafter says climb up.

We go to another factory.

Killeen relayed this blank-faced to Hatchet, who asked, “How come?”

“The Crafter says he has something for us.” This was a flat lie, since Bud said:

Crafter wants Toby’s help.

Impossible, Killeen thought. 1. You will see, Crafter says.

Killeen said, “Can the Crafter release this manmech? Says it can’t leave this factory ’plex.”

Bud said nothing for a long moment. Then:

Crafter has freed manmech.

Favor to you.

It says, remember, it wants Toby’s help.

“We’ll see,” Killeen said guardedly.

The manmech began to crawl up a side ramp of the Crafter. Bud said hurriedly:

Crafter won’t carry manmech.

“Why not?”

Manmech is now free mech.

Can trigger detectors.

Make it stay off.

“I want it with us.”

Crafter will kill then.

“No, just a—”

Killeen heard the Crafter transmit a seething burst of static, which sent the manmech reeling.

That was warning.

The manmech cried, “Humans! Do not leave me!”

Tight-lipped, Killeen called, “No choice. You’re free now. Good luck!”

As they lumbered away from the cubic factory the grate-door came ratcheting down. Looking back at it, Killeen felt a washed-out sense of relief. They had come through the dark tunnels and survived.

He was saddened to see the dog-woman manmech come clattering after them. He would’ve liked to ask that strange combination about its ancient life. A living entity was far more gripping than the desiccated little lectures the Aspects gave him. He was trying to learn more from his Aspects, but they lacked the manmech’s poignant, humble truth.

He shook his head. His father had told him once that the smartest people were those who, once they saw they had no choices left, forgot the matter. He had never mastered that art. He shut off his comm, so he would not have to hear the manmech’s fading, plaintive yelps and forlorn baying.

The Crafter accelerated away. Its antennae swerved and buzzed with anxious energy.