"Yes, sir," General Natia said, her voice echoing that same note of fear.
Damn all, Pere thought, she should know that’s no way for a general to act. We can’t let the troops know we’re afraid — even if we are. He made no allowance for the fact that General Natia was a woman, and just eighteen.
Once his staff had been attended to he turned his mind to the problems at hand. Some of the tension eased as he sorted out all the factors. Problem solving was his speciality, and he had been selected for it before birth. Gene analysis had chosen the best DNA chain from his parents’ sperm-and-ovum bank. This, and subsequent training, had fitted him perfectly for command. With the instantaneous reflexes of youth, he was a formidable opponent on the battlefield and looked forward to a successful career of at least four or five years before retirement.
For a man who would soon be directing a global conflict this problem was childishly simple.
"Communications?" he snapped, and pointed his finger at the Signal Corps Major. There was an automatic authority in his voice now, in marked contrast to his boyish crewcut and freckles.
"None, sir," the officer said, saluting. "Whatever blocked the tunnel knocked out the land lines as well. I’ve tried with the field phone but the wires are dead."
"Does anyone know how far we are from HQ?" he asked, raising his voice so that all the officers in the car could hear him.
"I’ll have it… in a second, sir," one of them said, a grey haired colonel from Computor Corps. He was moving the scale on his pocket slide rule, blinking intently in the light of his flash. "Don’t know how long this tunnel is — or the exact location of HQ. But I have made the run before, and the total elapsed time is usually a few minutes over three hours. Figuring the time to the accident, our speed, allowing for deceleration His voice trailed off into a mumble and Pere waited impatiently, but unmoving. He needed this information before he could make his next move.
"Between forty and sixty miles to HQ, sir. And those are the outside figures, I’d say it’s very close to fifty…"
"That’s good enough. I want two volunteers, you and you. Get up in the nose there and see if you can’t dig a hole through that rubble. We’re going to try to get through and continue on foot. We’ll be needed at HQ if the Enemy is able to hit this close."
This last was added for the sake of his staff’s moral; the training courses had recommended the human touch whenever possible. Particularly in unusual situations. And this was an unusual, though not very promising way for his first command to begin. He scowled unhappily into the darkness. It took an effort to keep his feelings from his voice as he issued orders to assemble the food stores and water. When this was done he sent his adjutant to relive the two men who were digging into the dirt barricade. One robot was worth ten men — not to say two — at this kind of labor.
It took almost twelve hours to penetrate the barrier, and they were all completely exhausted before it was through. The adjutant did all the digging, and they rotated shifts in carrying away the rubble that he cleared. There had been some minor falls of dirt and rock that in their haste they ignored, until a major fall at the work face had completely buried the robot. They dug until they reached its feet and Pere had lengths of the now useless tunnel signal wire tied around the robot’s ankles. It wasn’t until they had added loops of wire so that they could all pull together that the adjutant had been dragged from his near grave. After that work slowed, since they had to unbolt the chairs from the car and use them to shore up the roof. All things considered, twelve hours was good time for penetration of the barrier.
Once they were through General Pere allowed them a half-hour break. They sipped at their water bottles and collapsed wearily on both sides of the central track. Pride and position would not allow Pere to rest; he paced ahead to see if the tunnel was clear, his adjutant beside him.
"How many hours left in your battery?" Pere asked. "At maximum output."
"Over three hundred."
"Then start running. If you come to any other falls begin clearing them away and we’ll catch up with you. If you get through without any trouble have them send a car for us. It will save some time."
The robot saluted and was gone, his running steps thudding away in the distance. Pere looked at the glowing dial of his watch and announced the end of the break.
Walking, with the single light twinkling ahead, soon took on a dream-like quality that numbed their responses. They went on this way, with short breaks every hour, for almost eight hours. When they began to drop out, asleep on their feet, Pere reluctantly ordered a stop. He forced them to eat first, then allowed them only four hours’ sleep before he forcefully shook them to their feet. The march continued — at a far slower pace now — and another five hours of constant darkness passed before they saw the light of the car ahead.
"Point your lights at it — everyone," Pere said. "We don’t want to be run down."
The driver, a robot, had been driving at half speed, watching for them. They climbed wearily aboard and most of them fell asleep during the short run back to HQ. The adjutant made a report to Pere.
"The break has been reported, and there have been two more blockages discovered in the other tunnel."
"What caused them?"
"Intelligence is not sure, but is expecting to report soon."
Pere swallowed his opinion of Intelligence’s intelligence, since even robots should not hear morale-lowering comment.
He pulled at his sticky shirt and was suddenly aware of the rising heat inside the car. "What’s wrong with the air conditioning?" he asked petulantly.
"Nothing, sir. It is the air temperature in the tunnel, it is much hotter than usual."
"Why?"
"That fact is not known yet."
The heat rose steadily as they approached HQ, and Pere issued orders that collars could be opened. The car slowed to a halt in the immense bay at the tunnel’s end. When the door was opened the hot air that boiled in was almost unbreathable.
"Double-time to the lock," Pere gasped out, choking over the words as the heat seared his throat. They stumbled and ran towards the large sealed valve at the end of the platform, robot guns tracking them from the turrets that studded the face of the metal wall. Identification was made and before they reached the lock the immense outer door rotated ponderously. Someone screamed as he fell and bare flesh touched the burning metal of the platform. Pere forced himself to wait until they were all inside, entering last. There was some relief when the outer door had closed, but no real drop in the temperature until they had passed through all five seals of the four-barreled lock. Even then the air inside the fortress was far warmer than normal.
"Perhaps this heat has something to do with the reason we were sent out a week early," General Natia said. "This and the tunnel blockage might be caused by an enemy penetration in force."
Pere had reached the same conclusion himself, though he wouldn’t admit it aloud, even to his second-in-command. In addition only he knew that a real emergency at HQ had changed their shipping orders, though Command had not been specific about the nature of the emergency. As fast as he could, without running, Pere led his staff towards HQ control.
Nothing was right. No one answered him when he formally requested permission to enter. There were maintenance robots stolidly going about their work, but no officers in view. For a single heart-stopping instant he thought that all four battle stations were vacant. Then he saw a finger come out and touch a button at Command Prime: the occupant of the chair was slumped so low that he could hardly be seen. Pere stalked quickly towards the post and began a salute, but his hand stopped before it reached his forehead and forgotten, dropped slowly back. He stared with horror.