"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.
Or, in this case, his life.
As soon as the guards were out of sight behind him he turned off the corridor. A moment later he came out into a well-lighted major artery. The floor beneath his feet hummed and vibrated, and as he walked along he felt the intensity of action increase.
He was getting close, now. The center of Vulcan 3 was not far off.
The passage made an abrupt turn to the right. He followed, and found himself facing a young T-class official and two guards. All three men were armed. They seemed to be in the process of pushing a metal cart loaded with punchcards; he identified the cards as a medium by which data were presented, under certain circumstances, to the Vulcan computers. This official, then, was part of the feed-teams.
"Who are you?" Barris said, before the young official could speak. "What's your authority for being in this area? Let's see written permission."
The young official said, "My name is Larson, Director. I was directly responsible to Jason Dill before his death." Eying Barris, he smiled respectfully and said, "I saw you several times with Mr. Dill, sir. When you were here involving the reconstruction of Vulcan 2."
"I believe I noticed you," Barris said.
Pushing his cart along, Larson said, "I have to feed these at once to Vulcan 3; with your permission I'll go along. How's the fighting going on above? Someone says they've broken in somewhere. I heard a lot of noise." Clearly agitated, but concerned only with his clearly laid-out task, Larson continued, "Amazing how active Vulcan 3 is, after being inactive for so many months. He's come up with quite a number of effective weapons to deal with the situation."
Glancing at Barris shrewdly, he said, "Isn't it probable that Reynolds will be the new Managing Director? His able prosecution of Dill, the way he exposed the various -" He broke off in order to manipulate the combination of a huge set of barrier-doors. The doors swung open-
And there, ahead of Barris, was a vast chamber. At the far end he saw a wall of metal, perfectly blank. The side of a cube, one part of something that receded into the structure of the building; he caught only a glimpse of it, an impression.
"There it is," Larson said to him. "Peaceful here, in comparison to what's going on above ground. You wouldn't think he-I mean, it-had anything to do with the action against the Healers. And yet it's all being directed from here." He and his two guards pushed the cart of data-cards forward. "Care to come closer?" Larson asked Barris; showing him that he knew everything of importance. "You can watch the way the data are fed. It's quite interesting."
Passing by Barris, Larson began directing the removal of the cards; he had the guards load up with them. Standing behind the three men, Barris reached into his coat. His fingers closed over the onion-shaped object.
As he drew the fission bomb out, he saw, on Larson's sleeve, a shiny metal bug; it clung there, riding along, its antennae quivering. For a moment Barris thought, It's an insect. Some natural life form that brushed against him when he was above ground, in the forest.
The shiny metal bug flew up into the air. He heard the high-frequency whine as it passed him, and knew it then. A tiny hammer, a version of the basic type. For observation. It had been aware of him from the moment Larson encountered him.