Philip Dick - Vulcan's Hammer

With almost uncontrollable impatience, he jiggled the switch of the vidsender. "What's the delay?" he demanded. "Why hasn't my call to Geneva gone through?"

After a moment the mild, aloof features of the monitor reappeared. "We are trying to locate Managing Director Dill, sir. Please be patient."

Red tape, Barris thought Even now. Especially now. Unity will devour itself, because in this supreme crisis, when it is challenged both from above and below, it will be paralyzed by its own devices. A kind of unintentional sui­cide, he thought.

"My call has to be put through," he said. "Over every­thing else. I'm the Northern Director of this continent; you have to obey me. Get hold of Dill."

The monitor looked at him and said, "You can go to hell!"

He could not believe what he heard; he was stunned, because he knew at once what it implied.

"Good luck to you and all the rest of your type," the monitor said and rang off; the screen went dead.

Why not? Barris thought. They can quit because they have a place to go. They only need to walk outside onto the street. And there they'll find the Movement.

As soon as he reached his office he switched on the vid­sender there. After some delay he managed to raise a monitor somewhere within the building itself. "This is ur­gent," he said. "I have to contact Managing Director Dill. Do everything you can for me."

"Yes, sir," the monitor said.

A few minutes later, as Barris sat tautly at his desk, the screen relit. Leaning forward, he said, "Dill-"

But it was not Jason Dill. He found himself facing Smith.

"Sir," Smith said jerkily, "you better come back." His face twisted; his eyes had a wild, sightless quality. "We don't know what it is or how it got in there, but it's in there now. Flying around. We sealed it off; we didn't know it was there until-"

"It's in with Vulcan 2?" Barris said.

"Yes, it must have come in with you. It's metal, but it isn't anything we ever-"

"Blow it up," Barris said.

"Everything?"

"Yes," he said. "Be sure you get it. There's no point in my coming back. Report to me as soon as you destroy it. Don't try to save anything."

Smith said, "What is it, that thing in there?"

"It's the thing," Barris said, "that's going to get us all. Unless we get it first." And, he thought, I don't think we're going to. He broke the connection, then, and jiggled for the monitor. "Haven't you gotten hold of Dill yet?" he said. Now he felt a dreary, penetrating resignation; it was hopeless.

The monitor said, "Yes, sir, I have Mr. Dill here." After a pause the monitor's face faded and Jason Dill's ap­peared in its place.

Dill said, "You were successful, weren't you?" His face had a gray, shocked bleakness. "You revived Vulcan 2 and got the information you wanted."

"One of those things got in," Barris said. "From Vul­can 3."

"I know that," Jason Dill said. "At least, I assumed it. Half an hour ago Vulcan 3 called an extraordinary Di­rectors' Council meeting. They're probably notifying you right now. The reason-" His mouth writhed, and then he regained control. "To have me removed and tried for treason. It would be good if I could count on you, Barris. I need your support, your testimony."

""I'll be right there," Barris said. "I'll meet you at your offices at Unity Control. In about an hour." He cut the cir­cuit and then contacted the field. "Get me the fastest ship possible," he ordered. "Have it ready, and have two armed escorts that can follow along. I may run into trouble."

At the other end of the line, the officer said, "Where did you want to go, Director?" He spoke in a slow, drawling voice, and Barris had never seen him before.

Barris said, "To Geneva."

The man grinned and said, "Director, I have a sugges­tion."

Feeling a chill of apprehension crawl up the back of his neck, Barris said, "What's your suggestion?"

"You can jump in the Atlantic," the man said, "and swim to Geneva." He did not ring off; he stared mockingly at Barris, showing no fear. No anticipation of punishment.

Barris said, "I'm coming over to the field."

"Indeed," the man said. "We'll look forward to seeing you. In fact-" he glanced at someone with him whom Barris could not see- "we'll be expecting you."

"Fine," Barris said. He managed to keep his hands from shaking as he reached out and cut the circuit. The grinning, mocking face was gone. Rising from his chair, Barris walked to the door of his office and opened it. To one of his secretaries he said, "Have all the police in the building come up here at once. Tell them to bring sidearms and anything else they can get hold of."

Ten minutes later, a dozen or so police straggled into his office. Is this all? he wondered. Twelve out of perhaps two hundred.

"I have to get to Geneva," he told them. "So we're going to go over to the field and get a ship there, in spite of what's going on."

One of the police said, "They're pretty strong in there, sir. That's where they started out; they apparently seized the tower and then landed a couple of shiploads of their own men. We couldn't do anything because we had our hands full here, keeping control of-"

"Okay," Barris interrupted. "You did all you could." At least, he thought, I hope so. I hope I can count on you.

"Let's go," he said. "And see what we can accomplish. I'll take you with me to Geneva; I think I'll need you there."

Together, the thirteen of them set off along the corridor, in the direction of the ramp that led to the field.

"Unlucky number," one of the police said nervously as they reached the ramp. Now they were out of the Unity Building, suspended over New York. The ramp moved beneath their feet, picking them up and carrying them across the canyon to the terminal building of the field.

As they crossed, Barris was aware of a sound. A low murmur, like the roar of the ocean.

Gazing down at the streets below, he saw a vast mob. It seethed along, a tide of men and women, growing each moment. And with them were the brown-clad figures of the Healers.

Even as he watched, the crowd moved toward the Unity Building. Stones and bricks crashed against the windows, shattering into the offices. Clubs and steel pipes. Surging, yelling, angry people.

The Healers had begun their final move.

Beside him, one of the police said, "We're almost across, sir."

"Do you want a weapon of some sort, sir?" another policeman asked him.

Barris accepted a heavy-duty hand weapon from one of the police. They continued on, carried by the ramp; a mo­ment later the first line of police bumped up against the entrance port of the terminal building. The police stepped down, their weapons ready.

I must get to Geneva, Barris thought. At any cost. Even that of human life!

Ahead of them, a group of field employees stood in an irregular cordon. Jeering, shaking their fists, they came forward; a broken bottle flew past Barris and crashed against the floor. Some of the people grinned sheepishly; they seemed embarrassed by the situation. Others showed on their faces the accumulated grievances of years.

"Hi, Director!" one of them called.

"You want your ship?" another yelled.

"You can't have it."

"It belongs to Father, now."

Barris said, "That ship belongs to me. It's for my use." He walked a few steps forward...

A rock struck him on the shoulder. Suddenly the air reeked of heat; a pencil beam had flicked on, and he saw, out of the corner of his eye, a policeman go down.

There's nothing else to do, he realized. We have to fight.

"Shoot back," he said to the remaining police.

One of them protested, "But most of those people are unarmed."

Raising his own weapon, Barris fired into the group of Movement sympathizers.