Philip Dick - Vulcan's Hammer

To Dill, Barris said softly, "We'll have to fight. Is it worth it? There's a whole world at stake, not just you or me. Vulcan 3 is taking over." He pointed at Reynolds.

Dill said, "All right." He made an almost imperceptible motion to his armed guards. "Let's go down this way, if we have to. You're right, Barris. There's no alternative."

Together, he and Barris rose to their feet.

"Halt!" Reynolds said. "Put your arms away. You're acting illegally."

Now all the Directors were on their feet. Reynolds sig­naled rapidly, and Unity guards moved between Barris and Dill and the doors.

"You're both under arrest," Reynolds said. "Throw down your beams and surrender. You can't defy Unity!"

John Chai pushed up to Barris. "I can't believe it! You and Jason Dill turning traitor, at a time like this, with those brutal Healers attacking us!"

"Listen to me," Director Henderson gasped, making his way past Chai. "We've got to preserve Unity; We've got to do what Vulcan 3 tells us. Otherwise we'll be over­whelmed."

"He's right," Chai said. "The Healers will destroy us, without Vulcan 3. You know that, Barris. You know that Unity will never survive their attack, without Vulcan 3 to guide us."

Maybe so, Barris thought. But are we going to be guided by a murderer?

That was what he had said to Father Fields- I will never follow someone who murders. Whoever they are. Man or computer. Alive or only metaphorically alive-it makes no difference.

Pulling away from the Directors crowding around him, Barris said, "Let's get out of here." He and Dill continued to move toward the exit, their guards surrounding them. "I don't think Reynolds will fight."

Taking a deep breath, he headed directly at the line of Unity guards grouped in front of the exit. They stepped away, milling hesitantly.

"Get out of the way," Jason Dill ordered them. "Stand back." He waved his pencil beam; his personal guards stepped forward grimly, forcing a breach in the line. The Unity guards struggled half-heartedly, falling back in con­fusion. Reynolds' frantic shouts were lost in the general din. Barris pushed Dill forward.

"Go on. Hurry." The two of them were almost through the lines of hostile guards. "They have to obey you," Bar­ris said. "You're still Managing Director; they can't fire on you--they're trained not to."

The exit lay before them.

And then it happened.

Something flashed through the air, something shiny and metallic. It headed straight at Jason Dill. Dill saw it and screamed.

The object smashed against him. Dill reeled and fell, his arms flailing. The object struck again, then lifted abruptly and zoomed off above their heads. It ascended to the raised platform and came to rest on the marble desk. Reynolds retreated in horror; the Directors and their staffs and guards roamed in frantic confusion, pushing blindly to get away.

Dill was dead.

Bending briefly, Barris examined him. On all sides men and women shrieked and stumbled, trying to get out, away from the auditorium. Dill's skull was crushed, the side of his face smashed in. His dead eyes gazed up blankly, and Barris felt welling up inside him a deep surge of regret.

"Attention!" rasped a metallic voice that cut through the terrified hubbub like a knife. Barris turned slowly, dazed with disbelief; it still did not seem possible.

On the platform the metal projectile had been joined by another; now a third landed, coming to rest beside the other two. Three cubes of glittering steel, holding tightly to the marble with clawlike grippers.

"Attention!" the voice repeated. It came from the first projectile, an artificial voice-the sound of steel and wir­ing and plastic parts.

One of these had tried to kill Father Fields. One of these had killed the schoolteacher. One or more had destroyed Vulcan 2. These things had been in action, but beyond the range of visibility; they had stayed out of sight until now.

These were the instruments of death. And now they were out in the open.

A fourth landed with the others. Metal squares, sitting together in a row like vicious mechanical crows. Murder­ous birds-hammer-headed destroyers. The roomful of Directors and guards sank gradually into horrified silence; all faces were turned toward the platform. Even Reynolds watched wide-eyed, his mouth slack in dumbfounded amazement.

"Attention!" the harsh voice repeated. "Jason Dill is dead. He was a traitor. There may be other traitors." The four projectiles peered around the auditorium, looking and listening intently.

Presently the voice continued-from the second pro­jectile, this time.

"Jason Dill has been removed, but the struggle has just begun. He was one of many. There are millions lined up against us, against Unity. Enemies who must be destroyed. The Healers must be stopped. Unity must fight for its life. We must be prepared to wage a great war."

The metallic eyes roamed the room, as the third pro­jectile took up where the second had paused.

"Jason Dill tried to keep me from knowing. He at­tempted to throw a curtain around me, but I could not be cut off. I destroyed his curtain and I destroyed him. The Healers will go the same way; it is only a question of time. Unity possesses a structure which cannot be undone. It is the sole organizing principle in the world today. The Movement of Healers could never govern. They are wreck­ers only, intent on breaking down. They have nothing con­structive to offer."

Barris thrilled with horror at the voice of metal, issuing from the hammer-headed projectiles. He had never heard it before, but he recognized it.

The great computer was far away, buried at the bottom level of the hidden underground fortress. But it was its voice they were hearing.

The voice of Vulcan 3.

He took careful aim. Around him his guards stood frozen, gaping foolishly at the line of metal hammerheads. Barris fired; the fourth hammer disappeared in a blast of heat.

"A traitor!" the third hammer cried. The three hammers flew excitedly into the air. "Get him! Get the traitor!"

Other Directors had undipped their pencil beams. Hen­derson fired and the second hammer vanished. On the platform Reynolds fired back; Henderson moaned and sank down. Some Directors were firing wildly at the ham­mers; others wandered in dazed confusion, uncertain and numb. A shot caught Reynolds in the arm. He dropped his pencil.

"Traitor!" the two remaining hammers cried together.

They swooped at Barris, their metal heads down, coming rapidly at him. From them heat beams leaped. Barris ducked. A guard fired and one of the hammers wobbled and dipped; it fluttered off and crashed against the wall.

A beam cut past Barris; some of the Directors were fir­ing at him. Knots of Directors and guards struggled to­gether. Some were fighting to get at Reynolds and the last hammer; others did not seem to know which side they were on.

Barris stumbled through an exit, out of the auditorium. Guards and Directors spilled after him, a confused horde of forlorn, frightened men and women.

"Barris!" Lawrence Daily of South Africa hurried up to him. "Don't leave us."

Stone came with him, white-faced with fright. "What'll we do? Where'll we go? We-"

The hammer came hurtling forward, its heat beam pointed at him. Stone cried out and fell. The hammer rose again, heading toward Barris; he fired and the hammer flipped to one side. He fired again. Daily fired. The ham­mer vanished in a puff of heat.

Stone lay moaning. Barris bent over him; he was badly hurt, with little or no chance of surviving. Gazing up at him, clutching at Barris' arm, Stone whispered, "You can't get away, Barris. You can't go outside-they're out there. The Healers. Where'll you go?" His voice trailed off. "Where?"