Second Variety - 2

"See now? Now do you understand?"
* * * * *
From the remains of David a metal wheel rolled. Relays, glinting
metal. Parts, wiring. One of the Russians kicked at the heap of
remains. Parts popped out, rolling away, wheels and springs and rods.
A plastic section fell in, half charred. Hendricks bent shakily down.
The front of the head had come off. He could make out the intricate
brain, wires and relays, tiny tubes and switches, thousands of minute
studs--
"A robot," the soldier holding his arm said. "We watched it tagging
you."
"Tagging me?"
"That's their way. They tag along with you. Into the bunker. That's
how they get in."
Hendricks blinked, dazed. "But--"
"Come on." They led him toward the ridge. "We can't stay here. It
isn't safe. There must be hundreds of them all around here."
The three of them pulled him up the side of the ridge, sliding and
slipping on the ash. The woman reached the top and stood waiting for
them.
"The forward command," Hendricks muttered. "I came to negotiate with
the Soviet--"
"There is no more forward command. _They_ got in. We'll explain." They
reached the top of the ridge. "We're all that's left. The three of us.
The rest were down in the bunker."
"This way. Down this way." The woman unscrewed a lid, a gray manhole
cover set in the ground. "Get in."
Hendricks lowered himself. The two soldiers and the woman came behind
him, following him down the ladder. The woman closed the lid after
them, bolting it tightly into place.
"Good thing we saw you," one of the two soldiers grunted. "It had
tagged you about as far as it was going to."
* * * * *
"Give me one of your cigarettes," the woman said. "I haven't had an
American cigarette for weeks."
Hendricks pushed the pack to her. She took a cigarette and passed the
pack to the two soldiers. In the corner of the small room the lamp
gleamed fitfully. The room was low-ceilinged, cramped. The four of
them sat around a small wood table. A few dirty dishes were stacked to
one side. Behind a ragged curtain a second room was partly visible.
Hendricks saw the corner of a cot, some blankets, clothes hung on a
hook.
"We were here," the soldier beside him said. He took off his helmet,
pushing his blond hair back. "I'm Corporal Rudi Maxer. Polish.
Impressed in the Soviet Army two years ago." He held out his hand.
Hendricks hesitated and then shook. "Major Joseph Hendricks."
"Klaus Epstein." The other soldier shook with him, a small dark man
with thinning hair. Epstein plucked nervously at his ear. "Austrian.
Impressed God knows when. I don't remember. The three of us were here,
Rudi and I, with Tasso." He indicated the woman. "That's how we
escaped. All the rest were down in the bunker."
"And--and _they_ got in?"
Epstein lit a cigarette. "First just one of them. The kind that tagged
you. Then it let others in."
Hendricks became alert. "The _kind_? Are there more than one kind?"
"The little boy. David. David holding his teddy bear. That's Variety
Three. The most effective."
"What are the other types?"
Epstein reached into his coat. "Here." He tossed a packet of
photographs onto the table, tied with a string. "Look for yourself."
Hendricks untied the string.
"You see," Rudi Maxer said, "that was why we wanted to talk terms. The
Russians, I mean. We found out about a week ago. Found out that your
claws were beginning to make up new designs on their own. New types of
their own. Better types. Down in your underground factories behind our
lines. You let them stamp themselves, repair themselves. Made them
more and more intricate. It's your fault this happened."
* * * * *
Hendricks examined the photos. They had been snapped hurriedly; they
were blurred and indistinct. The first few showed--David. David
walking along a road, by himself. David and another David. Three
Davids. All exactly alike. Each with a ragged teddy bear.
All pathetic.
"Look at the others," Tasso said.
The next pictures, taken at a great distance, showed a towering
wounded soldier sitting by the side of a path, his arm in a sling, the
stump of one leg extended, a crude crutch on his lap. Then two wounded
soldiers, both the same, standing side by side.
"That's Variety One. The Wounded Soldier." Klaus reached out and took
the pictures. "You see, the claws were designed to get to human
beings. To find them. Each kind was better than the last. They got
farther, closer, past most of our defenses, into our lines. But as
long as they were merely _machines_, metal spheres with claws and
horns, feelers, they could be picked off like any other object. They
could be detected as lethal robots as soon as they were seen. Once we
caught sight of them--"
"Variety One subverted our whole north wing," Rudi said. "It was a
long time before anyone caught on. Then it was too late. They came in,
wounded soldiers, knocking and begging to be let in. So we let them
in. And as soon as they were in they took over. We were watching out
for machines...."
"At that time it was thought there was only the one type," Klaus
Epstein said. "No one suspected there were other types. The pictures
were flashed to us. When the runner was sent to you, we knew of just
one type. Variety One. The big Wounded Soldier. We thought that was
all."
"Your line fell to--"
"To Variety Three. David and his bear. That worked even better." Klaus
smiled bitterly. "Soldiers are suckers for children. We brought them
in and tried to feed them. We found out the hard way what they were
after. At least, those who were in the bunker."
"The three of us were lucky," Rudi said. "Klaus and I were--were
visiting Tasso when it happened. This is her place." He waved a big
hand around. "This little cellar. We finished and climbed the ladder
to start back. From the ridge we saw. There they were, all around the
bunker. Fighting was still going on. David and his bear. Hundreds of
them. Klaus took the pictures."
Klaus tied up the photographs again.
* * * * *
"And it's going on all along your line?" Hendricks said.
"Yes."
"How about _our_ lines?" Without thinking, he touched the tab on his
arm. "Can they--"
"They're not bothered by your radiation tabs. It makes no difference
to them, Russian, American, Pole, German. It's all the same. They're
doing what they were designed to do. Carrying out the original idea.
They track down life, wherever they find it."
"They go by warmth," Klaus said. "That was the way you constructed
them from the very start. Of course, those you designed were kept back
by the radiation tabs you wear. Now they've got around that. These new
varieties are lead-lined."
"What's the other variety?" Hendricks asked. "The David type, the
Wounded Soldier--what's the other?"
"We don't know." Klaus pointed up at the wall. On the wall were two
metal plates, ragged at the edges. Hendricks got up and studied them.
They were bent and dented.
"The one on the left came off a Wounded Soldier," Rudi said. "We got
one of them. It was going along toward our old bunker. We got it from
the ridge, the same way we got the David tagging you."
The plate was stamped: I-V. Hendricks touched the other plate. "And
this came from the David type?"
"Yes." The plate was stamped: III-V.
Klaus took a look at them, leaning over Hendricks' broad shoulder.
"You can see what we're up against. There's another type. Maybe it was
abandoned. Maybe it didn't work. But there must be a Second Variety.
There's One and Three."
"You were lucky," Rudi said. "The David tagged you all the way here
and never touched you. Probably thought you'd get it into a bunker,
somewhere."
"One gets in and it's all over," Klaus said. "They move fast. One lets
all the rest inside. They're inflexible. Machines with one purpose.
They were built for only one thing." He rubbed sweat from his lip. "We
saw."
They were silent.
"Let me have another cigarette, Yank," Tasso said. "They are good. I
almost forgot how they were."
* * * * *
It was night. The sky was black. No stars were visible through the
rolling clouds of ash. Klaus lifted the lid cautiously so that
Hendricks could look out.
Rudi pointed into the darkness. "Over that way are the bunkers. Where
we used to be. Not over half a mile from us. It was just chance Klaus
and I were not there when it happened. Weakness. Saved by our lusts."
"All the rest must be dead," Klaus said in a low voice. "It came
quickly. This morning the Politburo reached their decision. They
notified us--forward command. Our runner was sent out at once. We saw
him start toward the direction of your lines. We covered him until he
was out of sight."
"Alex Radrivsky. We both knew him. He disappeared about six o'clock.
The sun had just come up. About noon Klaus and I had an hour relief.
We crept off, away from the bunkers. No one was watching. We came
here. There used to be a town here, a few houses, a street. This
cellar was part of a big farmhouse. We knew Tasso would be here,
hiding down in her little place. We had come here before. Others from
the bunkers came here. Today happened to be our turn."
"So we were saved," Klaus said. "Chance. It might have been others.
We--we finished, and then we came up to the surface and started back
along the ridge. That was when we saw them, the Davids. We understood
right away. We had seen the photos of the First Variety, the Wounded
Soldier. Our Commissar distributed them to us with an explanation. If
we had gone another step they would have seen us. As it was we had to
blast two Davids before we got back. There were hundreds of them, all
around. Like ants. We took pictures and slipped back here, bolting the
lid tight."
"They're not so much when you catch them alone. We moved faster than
they did. But they're inexorable. Not like living things. They came
right at us. And we blasted them."
Major Hendricks rested against the edge of the lid, adjusting his eyes
to the darkness. "Is it safe to have the lid up at all?"
"If we're careful. How else can you operate your transmitter?"
Hendricks lifted the small belt transmitter slowly. He pressed it
against his ear. The metal was cold and damp. He blew against the
mike, raising up the short antenna. A faint hum sounded in his ear.
"That's true, I suppose."
But he still hesitated.
"We'll pull you under if anything happens," Klaus said.
"Thanks." Hendricks waited a moment, resting the transmitter against
his shoulder. "Interesting, isn't it?"
"What?"
"This, the new types. The new varieties of claws. We're completely at
their mercy, aren't we? By now they've probably gotten into the UN
lines, too. It makes me wonder if we're not seeing the beginning of a
new species. _The_ new species. Evolution. The race to come after
man."
* * * * *
Rudi grunted. "There is no race after man."
"No? Why not? Maybe we're seeing it now, the end of human beings, the
beginning of the new society."
"They're not a race. They're mechanical killers. You made them to
destroy. That's all they can do. They're machines with a job."
"So it seems now. But how about later on? After the war is over.
Maybe, when there aren't any humans to destroy, their real
potentialities will begin to show."
"You talk as if they were alive!"
"Aren't they?"
There was silence. "They're machines," Rudi said. "They look like
people, but they're machines."
"Use your transmitter, Major," Klaus said. "We can't stay up here
forever."
Holding the transmitter tightly Hendricks called the code of the
command bunker. He waited, listening. No response. Only silence. He
checked the leads carefully. Everything was in place.
"Scott!" he said into the mike. "Can you hear me?"
Silence. He raised the gain up full and tried again. Only static.
"I don't get anything. They may hear me but they may not want to
answer."
"Tell them it's an emergency."
"They'll think I'm being forced to call. Under your direction." He
tried again, outlining briefly what he had learned. But still the
phone was silent, except for the faint static.
"Radiation pools kill most transmission," Klaus said, after awhile.
"Maybe that's it."
Hendricks shut the transmitter up. "No use. No answer. Radiation
pools? Maybe. Or they hear me, but won't answer. Frankly, that's what
I would do, if a runner tried to call from the Soviet lines. They have
no reason to believe such a story. They may hear everything I say--"
"Or maybe it's too late."
Hendricks nodded.
"We better get the lid down," Rudi said nervously. "We don't want to
take unnecessary chances."
* * * * *
They climbed slowly back down the tunnel. Klaus bolted the lid
carefully into place. They descended into the kitchen. The air was
heavy and close around them.
"Could they work that fast?" Hendricks said. "I left the bunker this
noon. Ten hours ago. How could they move so quickly?"
"It doesn't take them long. Not after the first one gets in. It goes
wild. You know what the little claws can do. Even _one_ of these is
beyond belief. Razors, each finger. Maniacal."
"All right." Hendricks moved away impatiently. He stood with his back
to them.
"What's the matter?" Rudi said.
"The Moon Base. God, if they've gotten there--"
"The Moon Base?"
Hendricks turned around. "They couldn't have got to the Moon Base. How
would they get there? It isn't possible. I can't believe it."
"What is this Moon Base? We've heard rumors, but nothing definite.
What is the actual situation? You seem concerned."
"We're supplied from the moon. The governments are there, under the
lunar surface. All our people and industries. That's what keeps us
going. If they should find some way of getting off Terra, onto the
moon--"
"It only takes one of them. Once the first one gets in it admits the
others. Hundreds of them, all alike. You should have seen them.
Identical. Like ants."
"Perfect socialism," Tasso said. "The ideal of the communist state.
All citizens interchangeable."
Klaus grunted angrily. "That's enough. Well? What next?"
Hendricks paced back and forth, around the small room. The air was
full of smells of food and perspiration. The others watched him.
Presently Tasso pushed through the curtain, into the other room. "I'm
going to take a nap."
The curtain closed behind her. Rudi and Klaus sat down at the table,
still watching Hendricks.
"It's up to you," Klaus said. "We don't know your situation."
Hendricks nodded.
"It's a problem." Rudi drank some coffee, filling his cup from a rusty
pot. "We're safe here for awhile, but we can't stay here forever. Not
enough food or supplies."
"But if we go outside--"
"If we go outside they'll get us. Or probably they'll get us. We
couldn't go very far. How far is your command bunker, Major?"
"Three or four miles."
"We might make it. The four of us. Four of us could watch all sides.
They couldn't slip up behind us and start tagging us. We have three
rifles, three blast rifles. Tasso can have my pistol." Rudi tapped his
belt. "In the Soviet army we didn't have shoes always, but we had
guns. With all four of us armed one of us might get to your command
bunker. Preferably you, Major."
"What if they're already there?" Klaus said.
Rudi shrugged. "Well, then we come back here."
* * * * *
Hendricks stopped pacing. "What do you think the chances are they're
already in the American lines?"
"Hard to say. Fairly good. They're organized. They know exactly what
they're doing. Once they start they go like a horde of locusts. They
have to keep moving, and fast. It's secrecy and speed they depend on.
Surprise. They push their way in before anyone has any idea."
"I see," Hendricks murmured.
From the other room Tasso stirred. "Major?"
Hendricks pushed the curtain back. "What?"
[Illustration]
Tasso looked up at him lazily from the cot. "Have you any more
American cigarettes left?"
Hendricks went into the room and sat down across from her, on a wood
stool. He felt in his pockets. "No. All gone."
"Too bad."
"What nationality are you?" Hendricks asked after awhile.
"Russian."
"How did you get here?"
"Here?"
"This used to be France. This was part of Normandy. Did you come with
the Soviet army?"
"Why?"
"Just curious." He studied her. She had taken off her coat, tossing it
over the end of the cot. She was young, about twenty. Slim. Her long
hair stretched out over the pillow. She was staring at him silently,
her eyes dark and large.
"What's on your mind?" Tasso said.
"Nothing. How old are you?"
"Eighteen." She continued to watch him, unblinking, her arms behind
her head. She had on Russian army pants and shirt. Gray-green. Thick
leather belt with counter and cartridges. Medicine kit.
"You're in the Soviet army?"
"No."
"Where did you get the uniform?"
She shrugged. "It was given to me," she told him.
"How--how old were you when you came here?"
"Sixteen."
"That young?"
Her eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"
* * * * *
Hendricks rubbed his jaw. "Your life would have been a lot different
if there had been no war. Sixteen. You came here at sixteen. To live
this way."
"I had to survive."
"I'm not moralizing."
"Your life would have been different, too," Tasso murmured. She
reached down and unfastened one of her boots. She kicked the boot off,
onto the floor. "Major, do you want to go in the other room? I'm
sleepy."
"It's going to be a problem, the four of us here. It's going to be
hard to live in these quarters. Are there just the two rooms?"
"Yes."
"How big was the cellar originally? Was it larger than this? Are there
other rooms filled up with debris? We might be able to open one of
them."
"Perhaps. I really don't know." Tasso loosened her belt. She made
herself comfortable on the cot, unbuttoning her shirt. "You're sure
you have no more cigarettes?"
"I had only the one pack."
"Too bad. Maybe if we get back to your bunker we can find some." The
other boot fell. Tasso reached up for the light cord. "Good night."
"You're going to sleep?"
"That's right."
The room plunged into darkness. Hendricks got up and made his way past
the curtain, into the kitchen.
And stopped, rigid.
Rudi stood against the wall, his face white and gleaming. His mouth
opened and closed but no sounds came. Klaus stood in front of him, the
muzzle of his pistol in Rudi's stomach. Neither of them moved. Klaus,
his hand tight around his gun, his features set. Rudi, pale and
silent, spread-eagled against the wall.
"What--" Hendricks muttered, but Klaus cut him off.
"Be quiet, Major. Come over here. Your gun. Get out your gun."
Hendricks drew his pistol. "What is it?"
"Cover him." Klaus motioned him forward. "Beside me. Hurry!"
Rudi moved a little, lowering his arms. He turned to Hendricks,
licking his lips. The whites of his eyes shone wildly. Sweat dripped
from his forehead, down his cheeks. He fixed his gaze on Hendricks.
"Major, he's gone insane. Stop him." Rudi's voice was thin and hoarse,
almost inaudible.
"What's going on?" Hendricks demanded.
Without lowering his pistol Klaus answered. "Major, remember our
discussion? The Three Varieties? We knew about One and Three. But we
didn't know about Two. At least, we didn't know before." Klaus'
fingers tightened around the gun butt. "We didn't know before, but we
know now."
He pressed the trigger. A burst of white heat rolled out of the gun,
licking around Rudi.
"Major, this is the Second Variety."
* * * * *
Tasso swept the curtain aside. "Klaus! What did you do?"
Klaus turned from the charred form, gradually sinking down the wall
onto the floor. "The Second Variety, Tasso. Now we know. We have all
three types identified. The danger is less. I--"
Tasso stared past him at the remains of Rudi, at the blackened,
smouldering fragments and bits of cloth. "You killed him."
"Him? _It_, you mean. I was watching. I had a feeling, but I wasn't
sure. At least, I wasn't sure before. But this evening I was certain."
Klaus rubbed his pistol butt nervously. "We're lucky. Don't you
understand? Another hour and it might--"
"You were _certain_?" Tasso pushed past him and bent down, over the
steaming remains on the floor. Her face became hard. "Major, see for
yourself. Bones. Flesh."
Hendricks bent down beside her. The remains were human remains. Seared
flesh, charred bone fragments, part of a skull. Ligaments, viscera,
blood. Blood forming a pool against the wall.
"No wheels," Tasso said calmly. She straightened up. "No wheels, no
parts, no relays. Not a claw. Not the Second Variety." She folded her
arms. "You're going to have to be able to explain this."
Klaus sat down at the table, all the color drained suddenly from his
face. He put his head in his hands and rocked back and forth.
"Snap out of it." Tasso's fingers closed over his shoulder. "Why did
you do it? Why did you kill him?"
"He was frightened," Hendricks said. "All this, the whole thing,
building up around us."
"Maybe."
"What, then? What do you think?"
"I think he may have had a reason for killing Rudi. A good reason."
"What reason?"
"Maybe Rudi learned something."
Hendricks studied her bleak face. "About what?" he asked.
"About him. About Klaus."
* * * * *
Klaus looked up quickly. "You can see what she's trying to say. She
thinks I'm the Second Variety. Don't you see, Major? Now she wants you
to believe I killed him on purpose. That I'm--"
"Why did you kill him, then?" Tasso said.
"I told you." Klaus shook his head wearily. "I thought he was a claw.
I thought I knew."
"Why?"
"I had been watching him. I was suspicious."
"Why?"
"I thought I had seen something. Heard something. I thought I--" He
stopped.
"Go on."
"We were sitting at the table. Playing cards. You two were in the
other room. It was silent. I thought I heard him--_whirr_."
There was silence.
"Do you believe that?" Tasso said to Hendricks.
"Yes. I believe what he says."
"I don't. I think he killed Rudi for a good purpose." Tasso touched
the rifle, resting in the corner of the room. "Major--"
"No." Hendricks shook his head. "Let's stop it right now. One is
enough. We're afraid, the way he was. If we kill him we'll be doing
what he did to Rudi."
Klaus looked gratefully up at him. "Thanks. I was afraid. You
understand, don't you? Now she's afraid, the way I was. She wants to
kill me."
"No more killing." Hendricks moved toward the end of the ladder. "I'm
going above and try the transmitter once more. If I can't get them
we're moving back toward my lines tomorrow morning."
Klaus rose quickly. "I'll come up with you and give you a hand."
* * * * *
The night air was cold. The earth was cooling off. Klaus took a deep
breath, filling his lungs. He and Hendricks stepped onto the ground,
out of the tunnel. Klaus planted his feet wide apart, the rifle up,
watching and listening. Hendricks crouched by the tunnel mouth, tuning
the small transmitter.
"Any luck?" Klaus asked presently.
"Not yet."
"Keep trying. Tell them what happened."
Hendricks kept trying. Without success. Finally he lowered the
antenna. "It's useless. They can't hear me. Or they hear me and won't
answer. Or--"
"Or they don't exist."
"I'll try once more." Hendricks raised the antenna. "Scott, can you
hear me? Come in!"
He listened. There was only static. Then, still very faintly--
"This is Scott."
His fingers tightened. "Scott! Is it you?"
"This is Scott."
Klaus squatted down. "Is it your command?"
"Scott, listen. Do you understand? About them, the claws. Did you get
my message? Did you hear me?"
"Yes." Faintly. Almost inaudible. He could hardly make out the word.
"You got my message? Is everything all right at the bunker? None of
them have got in?"
"Everything is all right."
"Have they tried to get in?"
The voice was weaker.
"No."
Hendricks turned to Klaus. "They're all right."
"Have they been attacked?"
"No." Hendricks pressed the phone tighter to his ear. "Scott, I can
hardly hear you. Have you notified the Moon Base? Do they know? Are
they alerted?"
No answer.
"Scott! Can you hear me?"
Silence.
Hendricks relaxed, sagging. "Faded out. Must be radiation pools."
* * * * *
Hendricks and Klaus looked at each other. Neither of them said
anything. After a time Klaus said, "Did it sound like any of your men?
Could you identify the voice?"
"It was too faint."
"You couldn't be certain?"
"No."
"Then it could have been--"
"I don't know. Now I'm not sure. Let's go back down and get the lid
closed."
They climbed back down the ladder slowly, into the warm cellar. Klaus
bolted the lid behind them. Tasso waited for them, her face
expressionless.
"Any luck?" she asked.
Neither of them answered. "Well?" Klaus said at last. "What do you
think, Major? Was it your officer, or was it one of _them_?"
"I don't know."
"Then we're just where we were before."
Hendricks stared down at the floor, his jaw set. "We'll have to go. To
be sure."
"Anyhow, we have food here for only a few weeks. We'd have to go up
after that, in any case."
"Apparently so."
"What's wrong?" Tasso demanded. "Did you get across to your bunker?
What's the matter?"
"It may have been one of my men," Hendricks said slowly. "Or it may
have been one of _them_. But we'll never know standing here." He
examined his watch. "Let's turn in and get some sleep. We want to be
up early tomorrow."
"Early?"
"Our best chance to get through the claws should be early in the
morning," Hendricks said.
* * * * *
The morning was crisp and clear. Major Hendricks studied the
countryside through his fieldglasses.
"See anything?" Klaus said.
"No."
"Can you make out our bunkers?"
"Which way?"
"Here." Klaus took the glasses and adjusted them. "I know where to
look." He looked a long time, silently.
Tasso came to the top of the tunnel and stepped up onto the ground.
"Anything?"
"No." Klaus passed the glasses back to Hendricks. "They're out of
sight. Come on. Let's not stay here."
The three of them made their way down the side of the ridge, sliding
in the soft ash. Across a flat rock a lizard scuttled. They stopped
instantly, rigid.
"What was it?" Klaus muttered.
"A lizard."
The lizard ran on, hurrying through the ash. It was exactly the same
color as the ash.
"Perfect adaptation," Klaus said. "Proves we were right. Lysenko, I
mean."
They reached the bottom of the ridge and stopped, standing close
together, looking around them.
"Let's go." Hendricks started off. "It's a good long trip, on foot."
Klaus fell in beside him. Tasso walked behind, her pistol held