“Even if you did have sufficient time on your side,” Barris said, “I doubt if you could ultimately have defeated Unity. It’s hopeless to imagine that a grass-roots revolutionary movement can overthrow a modern bureaucratic system that’s backed up with modern technology and elaborate industrial organization. A hundred years ago, your Movement might have worked. But times have changed. Government is a science conducted by trained experts.”
Studying him with animosity, Fields said, “To win, you have to be on the inside.”
“You have to know someone on the inside,” Barris said. “And you do; you know me. I can get you in, where you will be able to attack the main trunk, not merely the branches.”
“And the trunk,” Fields said, “is Vulcan 3. Give us credit for knowing that, at least. That thing has always been our target.” He let out his breath raggedly. “All right, Barris; I agree to your terms.”
Barris felt himself relax. But he kept his expression under control. “Fine,” he said.
“You’re surprised, aren’t you?” Fields said.
“No,” he said. “Relieved. I thought possibly you might fail to see how precarious your position is.”
Bringing forth a pocket watch, Fields examined it. “What do you want for the attack on the fortress? Weapons are still in short supply with us. We’re mainly oriented around man power.”
“There are weapons back at Geneva.”
“How about transportation?”
“We have three high-speed military cruisers; they’ll do.” Barris wrote rapidly on a piece of paper. “A small concentrated attack by skillful men—experts hitting at the vital center. A hundred well-chosen men will do. Everything depends on the first ten minutes in the fortress; if we succeed, it’ll be right away. There will be no second chance.”
Fields gazed at him intently. “Barris, do you really think we have a chance? Can we really get to Vulcan 3?” His grease-stained hands twisted. “For years I’ve thought of nothing else. Smashing that satanic mass of parts and tubes—”
“We’ll get to him,” Barris said.
Fields collected the men that Barris needed. They were loaded into the cruiser, and Barris at once headed back toward Geneva, Fields accompanying him.
Halfway across the Atlantic they passed an immense swarm of hammers streaking toward helpless, undefended North America. These were quite large, almost as large as the cruiser. They moved with incredible speed, disappearing almost at once. A few minutes later a new horde appeared, these like slender needles. They ignored the ship and followed the first group over the horizon.
“New types,” Barris said. “He’s wasting no time.”
The Unity Control Building was still in friendly hands. They landed on the roof and hurried down the ramps into the building. On orders from Fields, the Healers had ceased attacking. But now hammers swarmed constantly overhead, diving down and twisting agilely to avoid the roof guns. Half of the main structure was in ruins, but the guns fired on, bringing down the hammers when they came too close.
“It’s a losing battle,” Daily muttered. “We’re short on ammunition. There seem to be an endless number of the damn things.”
Barris worked rapidly. He supplied his attack force with the best weapons available, supplies stored in the vaults below the Control Building. From the five Directors he selected Pegler and Chai, and a hundred of the best-trained troops.
“I’m going along,” Fields said. “If the attack fails I don’t want to stay alive. If it succeeds I want to be part of it.”
Barris carefully uncrated a manually operated fission bomb. “This is for him.” He weighed the bomb in the palm of his hand; it was no larger than an onion. “My assumption is that they’ll admit me and possibly Chai and Pegler. We can probably persuade them that we’re coming over to rejoin Unity. At least we’ll be able to get part of the distance in.”
“Anyhow you hope so,” Fields said curtly.
At sunset, Barris loaded the three cruisers with the men and equipment. The roof guns sent up a heavy barrage to cover their take-off. Hammers in action nearby at once began following the ships as they rose into the sky.
“We’ll have to shake them,” Barris said. He gave quick orders. The three cruisers shot off in different directions, dividing up rapidly. A few hammers tagged them awhile and then gave up.
“I’m clear,” Chai in the second cruiser reported.
“Clear,” Pegler in the third said.
Barris glanced at the older man beside him. Behind them the ship was crowded with tense, silent soldiers, loaded down with weapons, squatting nervously in a mass as the ship raced through the darkness. “Here we go,” Barris said. He swung the ship in a wide arc. Into the communications speaker he ordered, “We’ll re-form for the attack. I’ll lead. You two come behind.”
“Are we close?” Fields asked, a queer expression on his face.
“Very.” Barris studied the ship’s controls. “We should be over it in a moment. Get set.”
Barris dived. Pegler’s ship whipped through the darkness behind him, lashing toward the ground below; Chai’s ship shot off to the right and headed directly over the fortress.
Hammers rose in vast swarms and moved toward Chai’s ship, separating and engulfing it.
“Hang on,” Barris gasped.
The ground rose; landing brakes screamed. The ship hit, spinning and crashing among the trees and boulders.
“Out!” Barris ordered, pulling himself to his feet and throwing the hatch release. The hatches slid back and the men poured out, dragging their equipment into the cold night darkness.
Above them in the sky, Chai’s ship fought with the hammers; it twisted and rolled, firing rapidly. More hammers rose from the fortress, great black clouds that swiftly gained altitude. Pegler’s ship was landing. It roared over them and crashed against the side of a hill a few hundred yards from the other defense wall of the fortress.
The heavy guns of the fortress were beginning to open up. A vast fountain of white burst loose, showering rocks and debris on Barris and Fields as they climbed out of their ship.
“Hurry,” Barris said. “Get the bores going.”
The men were assembling two gopher bores. The first had already whined into action. More tactical atomic shells from the fortress struck near them; the night was lit up with explosions.
Barris crouched down. “How are you making out?” he shouted above the racket, his lips close to his helmet speaker.
“All right,” Pegler’s voice said weakly in his earphones. “We’re down and getting out the big stuff.”
“That’ll hold off the hammers,” Barris said to Fields. He peered up at the sky. “I hope Chai—”
Chai’s ship rolled and spun, trying to evade the ring of hammers closing around it. Its jets smoked briefly. A direct hit. The ship wobbled and hesitated.
“Drop your men,” Barris ordered into his phones. “You’re right over the fortress.”
From Chai’s ship showered a cloud of white dots. Men in jump suits, drifting slowly toward the ground below. Hammers screeched around them; the men fired back with pencil beams. The hammers retreated warily.
“Chai’s men will take care of the direct attack,” Barris explained. “Meanwhile, the bores are moving.”
“Umbrella almost ready,” a technician reported.
“Good. They’re beginning to dive on us; their screenprobes must have spotted us.”
The fleets of screaming hammers were descending, hurtling toward the ground. Their beams stabbed into the trees and ignited columns of flaming wood and branches. One of Pegler’s cannons boomed. A group of hammers disappeared, but more took their places. An endless torrent of hammers, rising up from the fortress like black bats.
The umbrella flickered purple. Reluctantly, it came on and settled in place. Vaguely, beyond it, Barris could make out the hammers circling in confusion. A group of them entered the umbrella and were silently puffed out.
Barris relaxed. “Good. No
w we don’t have to worry about them.”
“Gophers are halfway along,” the leader of the bore team reported.
Two immense holes yawned, echoing and vibrating as the gopher bores crept into the earth. Technicians disappeared after them. The first squad of armed troops followed them cautiously, swallowed up by the earth.
“We’re on our way,” Barris said to Fields.
Standing off by himself, Father Fields surveyed the trees, the line of hills in the distance. “No visible sign of the fortress,” he murmured. “Nothing to give it away.” He seemed deep in thought, as if barely aware of the battle in progress. “This forest . . . the perfect place. I would never have known.” Turning, he walked toward Barris.
Seeing the look on the man’s face, Barris felt deep uneasiness. “What is it?” he said.
Fields said, “I’ve been here before.”
“Yes,” Barris said.
“Thousands of times. I worked here most of my life.” The man’s face was stark. “This is where Vulcan 2 used to be.” His hands jerked aimlessly. “This was where I came to destroy Vulcan 2.” Nodding his head at a massive moss-covered boulder, he said, “I walked by that. To the service ramp. They didn’t even know the ramp still existed; it was declared obsolete years ago. Abandoned and shut off. But I knew about it.” His voice rose wildly. “I can come and go any time I want; I have constant access to that place. I know a thousand ways to get down there.”
Barris said, “But you didn’t know that Vulcan 3 was down there, too. At the deepest level. They didn’t acquaint your crew with—”
“I didn’t know Jason Dill,” Fields said. “I wasn’t in a position to meet him as an equal. As you were.”
“So now you know,” Barris said.
“You gave me nothing,” Fields said. “You had nothing to tell me that I didn’t know already.” Coming slowly toward Barris he said in a low voice, “I could have figured it out, in time. Once we had tried every other place—” In his hand a pencil beam appeared, gripped tightly.
Keeping himself calm, Barris said, “But you still won’t get in, Father. They’ll never let you in. They’ll kill you long before you penetrate all the way to Vulcan 3. You’ll have to depend on me.” Pointing to his sleeve, he indicated his Director’s stripe. “Once I get in there I can walk up and down those corridors; no one will stop me, because they’re part of the same structure I’m part of. And I’m in a position of authority equal to any of them, Reynolds included.”
Fields said, “Any of them—except for Vulcan 3.”
Off to the right, Pegler’s cannon thundered as the fleets of hammers turned their attention on them. The hammers dived and released bombs. An inferno of white pillars checkered across the countryside, moving toward Pegler’s ship.
“Get your umbrella up!” Barris shouted into his helmet speaker.
Pegler’s umbrella flickered. It hesitated—
A small atomic bomb cut across dead center. Pegler’s ship vanished; clouds of particles burst into the air, metal and ash showering over the flaming ground. The heavy cannon ceased abruptly.
“It’s up to us,” Barris said.
Over the fortress the first of Chai’s men had reached the ground. The defense guns spun around, leaving Barris’ ship and focusing on the drifting dots.
“They don’t have a chance,” Fields muttered.
“No.” Barris started toward the first of the two tunnels. “But we have.” Ignoring the pencil beam in the older man’s hand, he continued, his back to Fields.
Abruptly the fortress shuddered. A vast tongue of fire rolled across it. The surface fused in an instant; the wave of molten metal had sealed over the fortress.
“They cut themselves off,” Barris said. “They’ve closed down.” He shook himself into motion and entered the tunnel, squeezing past the power leads to the gopher.
An ugly cloud of black rolled up from the sea of glimmering slag that had been the surface of the fortress. The hammers fluttered above it uncertainly, cut off from the levels beneath.
Barris made his way along the tunnel, pushing past the technicians operating the gopher. The gopher rumbled and vibrated as it cut through the layers of clay and rock toward the fortress. The air was hot and moist. The men worked feverishly, directing the gopher deeper and deeper. Torrents of steaming water poured from the clay around them.
“We must be close,” Fields’ voice came to him, from behind.
“We should emerge near the deepest level,” Barris said. He did not look to see if the pencil beam was still there; he kept on going.
The gopher shrieked. Its whirring noise tore into metal; the bore team urged it forward. The gopher slashed into a wall of steel and reinforced stressed plastic and then slowed to a stop.
“We’re there,” Barris said.
The gopher shuddered. Gradually it inched forward. The leader of the team leaned close to Barris. “The other gopher’s through, into the fortress. But they don’t know exactly where.”
All at once the wall collapsed inward. Liquid steel pelted them, sizzling. The soldiers moved ahead, pushing through the gap. Barris and Fields hurried with them. The jagged metal seared them as they squeezed through. Barris stumbled and fell, rolling in the boiling water and debris.
Putting his pencil beam away, Fields pulled him to his feet. They glanced at each other, neither of them speaking. And then they looked about them, at the great corridor that stretched out, lit by the recessed lighting familiar to both of them.
The lowest level of the fortress!
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
A few astonished Unity guards scampered toward them, tugging a blast cannon inexpertly into position.
Barris fired. From behind him, pencil beams cut past him toward the cannon. The cannon fired once, crazily. The roof of the corridor dissolved; clouds of ash rolled around them. Barris moved forward. Now the blast cannon was in ruins. The Unity guards were pulling back, firing as they retreated.
“Mine crew,” Barris snapped.
The mine crew advanced and released their sucker mines. The mines leaped down the corridor toward the retreating Unity guards. At the sight the guards broke and fled; the mines exploded, hurling streamers of flame against the walls.
“Here we go,” Barris said. Crouching, he hurried along the corridor, clutching the fission bomb tight. Beyond a turn the Unity guards were shutting an emergency lock.
“Get them!” Barris shouted.
Fields ran past him, galloping in long-legged strides, his arms windmilling. His pencil beam traced a ribbon of ash across the surface of the lock; intricate bits of mechanism flew into the air. Behind the lock Unity teams were bringing up more mobile cannons. A few hammers fluttered around their heads, screaming instructions.
Following Fields, Barris reached the lock. Their men swarmed past them, firing into the narrow breach. A hammer sailed out, straight at Barris; he caught a vision of glittering metal eyes, clutching claws—and then the hammer winked out, caught by a pencil beam.
Fields seated himself on the floor by the hinge-rim of the lock. His expert fingers traced across the impulse leads. A sudden flash. The lock trembled and sagged. Barris threw his weight against it. The lock gave. Gradually it slid back, leaving a widened gap.
“Get in,” Barris ordered.
His men poured through, crashing against the barricade hastily erected by the Unity guards. Hammers dived on them frantically, smashing at their heads.
Pushing past, Barris glanced around. A series of corridors twisted off in different directions. He hesitated.
Can I do it? he asked himself.
Taking a deep, unsteady breath, he sprinted away from Fields and the soldiers, along a side corridor. The sound of fighting died as he raced up a ramp. A door slid open automatically for him; as it shut behind him he slowed, panting.
A moment later he was walking briskly along a passage, in the silence far away from the hectic activity. He came to an elevator, halted, and touched a stud. The e
levator at once made itself available to him. Entering, he permitted it to carry him upward.
This is the only way, he told himself. He forced himself to remain calm as the elevator carried him farther and farther away from Vulcan 3 and the scene of the activity. No direct assault will work.
At an upper level he stopped the elevator and stepped out.
A group of Unity officials stood about, conferring. Clerks and executives. Gray-clad men and women who glanced at him briefly or not at all. He caught a glimpse of office doors . . . without pausing, he began to walk.
He came presently onto a foyer, from which branched several corridors. Behind a turnstile sat a robot checker, inactive; no one was using its facilities. At the presence of Barris it lit up.
“Credentials, sir,” it said.
“Director,” he said, displaying his stripe.
Ahead of him the turnstile remained fixed. “This portion of the area is classified,” the robot said. “What is your business and by whose authority are you attempting to enter?”
Barris said sharply, “My own authority. Open up; this is urgent.”
It was his tone that the robot caught, rather than the words. The turnstile rattled aside; the habitual pattern of the assembly, its robot controller included, had been activated as it had been many times in the past. “Pardon intrusion into urgent business, Director,” the robot said, and at once shut off; its light died.
Back to sleep, Barris thought grimly.
He continued on until he came to an express descent ramp. At once he stepped onto it; the ramp plunged, and he was on his way back down again. To the bottom level—and Vulcan 3.
Several guards stood about in the corridor as Barris stepped from the ramp. They glanced at him and started to come to attention. Then one of them gave a convulsive grimace; his hand fumbled stupidly at his belt.
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