Philip Dick - Vulcan's Hammer

"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 nose 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!

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 cannon. 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 elevator 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.

Bringing out his pencil beam, Barris fired. The guard, headless, sank to one side and then collapsed; the other guards stared in disbelief, paralyzed.

"Traitor," Barris said. "Right here, in our midst."

The guards gaped at him,

"Where's Director Reynolds?" Barris said.

Gulping, one of the guards said, "In office six, sir. Down that way." Half pointing, he bent over the remains of his companion; the others gathered around.

"Can you get him out here for me?" Barris demanded. "Or am I supposed to go search him up?"

One of the guards murmured, "If you want to wait here, sir..."

"Wait here, hell," Barris said. "Are we all supposed to stand around while they break in and slaughter us? You know they're through in two places-they have those gopher bores going."

While the guards stammered out some sort of answer, he turned and strode off in the direction that the guard had indicated.

No Unity minion, he said to himself, will ever argue with a Director; it might cost him his job.