Second Variety and Other Stories (10 page)

Along the slope, by some crumbling ruins, something moved. Something in the ash. Tasso turned
quickly, aiming. She fired. A puff of flame leaped. Something scuttled away, rolling across the ash. She
fired again. The claw burst apart, wheels flying.

"See?" Tasso said. "A scout. It won't be long."

"You'll bring them back here to get me?"

"Yes. As soon as possible."

Hendricks looked up at her. He studied her intently. "You're telling the truth?" A strange
expression had come over his face, an avid hunger. "You will come back for me? You'll get me to the
Moon base?"

"I'll get you to the Moon base. But tell me where it is! There's only a little time left."

"All right." Hendricks picked up a piece of rock, pulling himself to a sitting position. "Watch."
Hendricks began to scratch in the ash. Tasso stood by him, watching the motion of the rock. Hendricks
was sketching a crude lunar map.

"This is the Appenine Range. Here is the Crater of Archimedes. The Moon base is beyond the
end of the Appenine, about two hundred miles. I don't know exactly where. No one on Terra knows.
But when you're over the Appenine, signal with one red flare and a green flare, followed by two red
flares in quick succession. The base monitor will record your signal. The base is under the surface, of
course. They'll guide you down with magnetic grapples."

"And the controls? Can I operate them?"

"The controls are virtually automatic. All you have to do is give the right signal at the right time."

"I will."

"The seat absorbs most of the take-off shock. Air and temperature are automatically controlled.
The ship will leave Terra and pass out into free space. It'll line itself up with the moon, falling into an orbit
around it, about a hundred miles above the surface. The orbit will carry you over the base. When you're
in the region of the Appenine, release the signal rockets."

Tasso slid into the ship and lowered herself into the pressure seat. The arm locks folded
automatically around her. She fingered the controls. "Too bad you're not going, Major. All this put here
for you, and you can't make the trip."

"Leave me the pistol."

Tasso pulled the pistol from her belt. She held it in her hand, weighing it thoughtfully. "Don't go
too far from this location. It'll be hard to find you, as it is."

"No. I'll stay here by the well."

Tasso gripped the take-off switch, running her fingers over the smooth metal. "A beautiful ship,
Major. Well built. I admire your workmanship. You people have always done good work. You build fine
things. Your work, your creations, are your greatest achievement."

Tasso gripped the take-off switch, running her fingers over the smooth metal. "A beautiful ship,
Major. Well built. I admire your workmanship. You people have always done good work. You build fine
things. Your work, your creations, are your greatest achievement."

"Good-bye, Major." Tasso tossed the pistol past Hendricks. The pistol clattered and rolled
away. Hendricks hurried after it. He bent down, snatching it up. The hatch of the ship clanged shut. The
bolts fell into place. Hendricks made his way back. The inner door was being sealed. He raised the pistol
unsteadily. There was a shattering roar. The ship burst up from its metal cage, fusing the mesh behind it.
Hendricks cringed, pulling back. The ship shot up into the rolling clouds of ash, disappearing into the sky.

Hendricks stood watching a long time, until even the streamer had dissipated. Nothing stirred.
The morning air was chill and silent. He began to walk aimlessly back the way they had come. Better to
keep moving around. It would be a long time before help came -- if it came at all. He searched his
pockets until he found a package of cigarettes. He lit one grimly. They had all wanted cigarettes from
him. But cigarettes were scarce.

A lizard slithered by him, through the ash. He halted, rigid. The lizard disappeared. Above, the
sun rose higher in the sky. Some flies landed on a flat rock to one side of him. Hendricks kicked at them
with his foot. It was getting hot. Sweat trickled down his face, into his collar. His mouth was dry.

Presently he stopped walking and sat down on some debris. He unfastened his medicine kit and
swallowed a few narcotic capsules. He looked around him. Where was he? Something lay ahead.
Stretched out on the ground. Silent and unmoving.

Hendricks drew his gun quickly. It looked like a man. Then he remembered. It was the remain of
Klaus. The Second Variety. Where Tasso had blasted him. He could see wheels and relays and metal
parts, strewn around on the ash. Glittering and sparkling in the sunlight. Hendricks got to his feet and
walked over. He nudged the inert form with his foot, turning it over a little. He could see the metal hull,
the aluminum ribs and struts. More wiring fell out. Like viscera. Heaps of wiring, switches and relays.
Endless motors and rods.

He bent down. The brain cage had been smashed by the fall. The artificial brain was visible. He
gazed at it. A maze of circuits. Miniature tubes. Wires as fine as hair. He touched the brain cage. It
swung aside. The type plate was visible. Hendricks studied the plate. And blanched.

IV-V.

For a long time he stared at the plate. Fourth Variety. Not the Second. They had been wrong.
There were more types. Not just three. Many more, perhaps. At least four. And Klaus wasn't the
Second Variety.

Suddenly he tensed. Something was coming, walking through the ash beyond the hill. What was
it? He strained to see. Figures. Figures coming slowly along, making their way through the ash.

Coming towards him.

Hendricks crouched quickly, raising his gun. Sweat dripped down into his eyes. He fought down
rising panic, as the figures neared.

The first was a David. The David saw him and increased its pace. The others hurried behind it. A
second David. A third. Three Davids, all alike, coming toward him silently, without expression, their thin
legs rising and falling. Clutching their teddy bears.

He aimed and fired. The first two Davids dissolved into particles. The third came on. And the
figure behind it. Climbing silently towards him across the gray ash. A Wounded Soldier, towering over
the David. And... And behind the Wounded Soldier came two Tassos, walking side by side. Heavy
belt, Russian army pants, shirt, long hair. The familiar figure, as he had seen her only a little while before.
Sitting in the pressure seat of the ship. Two slim, silent figures, both identical.

They were very near. The David bent down suddenly, dropping its teddy bear. The bear raced
across the ground. Automatically, Hendricks' fingers tightened around the trigger. The bear was gone,
dissolved into mist. The two Tasso Types moved on, expressionless, walking side by side, through the
gray ash.

When they were almost to him, Hendricks raised the pistol waist high and fired.

When they were almost to him, Hendricks raised the pistol waist high and fired.

And he had given her the ship and the signal code. Because of him she was on her way to the
moon, to the Moon base. He had made it possible.

He had been right about the bomb, after all. It had been designed with knowledge of the other
types, the David Type and the Wounded Soldier Type. And the Klaus Type. Not designed by human
beings. It had been designed by one of the underground factories, apart from all human contact. The line
of Tassos came up to him. Hendricks braced himself, watching them calmly. The familiar face, the belt,
the heavy shirt, the bomb carefully in place.

The bomb!

As the Tassos reached for him, a last ironic thought drifted through Hendricks' mind. He felt a
little better, thinking about it. The bomb. Made by the Second Variety to destroy the other varieties.
Made for that end alone.

They were already beginning to design weapons to use against each other.

Kastner walked around the ship without speaking. He climbed the ramp and entered,
disappearing cautiously inside. For a time his outline could be seen, stirring around. He appeared again,
his broad face dimly alight.

"Well?" Caleb Ryan said. "What do you think?"

Kastner came down the ramp. "Is it ready to go? Nothing left to work out?"

"It's almost ready. Workmen are finishing up the remaining sections. Relay connections and feed
lines. But no major problems exist. None we can predict, at least."

The two men stood together, looking up at the squat metal box with its ports and screens and
observation grills. The ship was not lovely. There were no trim lines, no chrome and rexeroid struts to
ease the hull into a gradually tapering teardrop. The ship was square and knobby, with turrets and
projections rising up everywhere.

"What will they think when we emerge from that?" Kastner murmured.

"We had no time to beautify it. Of course, if you want to wait another two months --"

"Couldn't you take off a few of the knobs? What are they for? What do they do?"

"Valves. You can examine the plans. They drain off the power load when it peaks too far up.
Time travel is going to be dangerous. A vast load is collected as the ship moves back. It has to be leaked
off gradually -- or we'll be an immense bomb charged with millions of volts."

"I'll take your word on it." Kastner picked up his briefcase. He moved toward one of the exits.
League Guards stepped out of his way. "I'll tell the Directors it's almost ready. By the way, I have
something to reveal."

"What is it?"

"We've decided who's going along with you."

"Who?"

"I'm going. I've always wanted to know what things were like before the war. You see the history
spools, but it isn't the same. I want to be there. Walk around. You know, they say there was no ash
before the war. The surface was fertile. You could walk for miles without seeing ruins. This I would like
to see."

"I didn't know you were interested in the past."

"Oh, yes. My family preserved some illustrated books showing how it was. No wonder USIC
wants to get hold of Schonerman's papers. If reconstruction could begin --"

wants to get hold of Schonerman's papers. If reconstruction could begin --"

"And maybe we'll get it. I'll see you later."

Ryan watched the plump little businessman depart, his briefcase clutched tightly. The row of
League Guards stepped aside for him to pass, filling in behind him as he disappeared through the
doorway.

Ryan returned his attention to the ship. So Kastner was to be his companion. USIC -- United
Synthetic Industries Combine -- had held out for equal representation on the trip. One man from the
League, one from USIC. USIC had been the source of supply, both commercial and financial, for
Project Clock. Without its help the Project would never have got out of the paper stage. Ryan sat down
at the bench and sent the blueprints racing through the scanner. They had worked a long time. There was
not much left to be done. Only a few finishing touches here and there.

The vidscreen clicked. Ryan halted the scanner and swung to catch the call.

"Ryan."

The League monitor appeared on the screen. The call was coming through League cables.
"Emergency call."

Ryan froze. "Put it through."

The monitor faded. After a moment an old face appeared, florid and lined. "Ryan --"

"What's happened?"

"You had better come home. As soon as you can."

"What is it?"

"Jon."

Ryan forced himself to be calm. "Another attack?" His voice was thick.

"Yes."

"Like the others?"

"Exactly like the others."

Ryan's hand jerked to the cut-off switch. "All right. I'll be home at once. Don't let anyone in. Try
to keep him quiet. Don't let him out of his room. Double the guard, if necessary."

Ryan broke the circuit. A moment later he was on his way to the roof, toward his inter-city ship
parked above him, at the roof field of the building.

His inter-city ship rushed above the unending gray ash, automatic grapples guiding it toward City
Four. Ryan stared blankly out the port, only half-seeing the sight below.

He was between cities. The surface was wasted, endless heaps of slag and ash as far as the eye
could see. Cities rose up like occasional toadstools, separated by miles of gray. Toadstools here and
there, towers and buildings, men and women working. Gradually the surface was being reclaimed.
Supplies and equipment were being brought down from the Lunar Base.

During the war human beings had left Terra and gone to the Moon. Terra was devastated.
Nothing but a globe of ruin and ash. Men had come back gradually, when the war was over.

Actually there had been two wars. The first was man against man. The second was man against
the claws -- complex robots that had been created as a war weapon. The claws had turned on their
makers, designing their own new types and equipment.

Ryan's ship began to descend. He was over City Four. Presently the ship came to rest on the
roof of his massive private residence at the center of the city. Ryan leaped quickly out and crossed the
roof to the lift.

A moment later he entered his quarters and made his way toward Jon's room.

He found the old man watching Jon through the glass side of the room, his face grave. Jon's room
was partly in darkness. Jon was sitting on the edge of his bed, his hands clasped tightly together. His eyes
were shut. His mouth was open a little, and from time to time his tongue came out, stiff and rigid.

"How long has he been like that?" Ryan said to the old man beside him.

"About an hour."

"The other attacks followed the same pattern?"