Ho Agar grabbed two coats from a closet off the main corridor and handed one to Rick.
“We’ll need these,” he shouted over the roar of the storm, which was whipping in through the open doorway. Outside, the ground was ankle-deep with rushing rivulets and the wind lashed at their faces like stinging whips. Ho Agar bent low against the force of the storm and ran across the compound to a small steel hut built at the base of the mooring tower.
HE UNLOCKED the door and the wind snapped it open with a shattering bang. Rick had followed him across the compound and when he reached the steel hut, Ho Agar was emerging, carrying in his hands two phosphorous lamps, whose brilliant rays cut through the murk of the storm for hundreds of yards.
He handed one to Rick, then, shouting to make himself heard, he said, “Follow me. There are not many places a robot could hide in this area.”
Rick nodded and set out after Ho Agar. He carried his rifle in the crook of his left arm and the lamp in his right. The glaring white rays of the latter danced ahead of him for dozens of yards, but there was nothing in its range but the lashing storm and puddled ground.
Ho Agar circled the great steel structure housing the robot assembly line and set out for the rocky wastes that surrounded the Earth-Mars base.
They struggled through ravines, waist-deep in surging water, clambered to the tops of slopes, where their powerful lamps illuminated the surrounding territory for hundreds of yards, then plunged on again, making a great, ever-widening circle about the base.
It was the lightning that eventually showed them their quarry. They were standing on the top of a slope, feet braced against the buffeting power of the storm, when a brilliant fork of lightning flashed over their heads; and by its searing light Rick saw a grotesque metal figure a few hundred yards from them, staggering crazily over the rutted, craggy ground. And in the creature’s extended arms was Rita Farrel, still, white and pitifully small against the metal bulk of her captor, her dark hair streaming in the wind.
Rick grabbed Ho Agar’s arm and pointed; but before the Martian could turn, the glare had faded and the darkness seemed intensified.
“Follow me!” Rick shouted.
He plunged down the slope, into a shallow valley that was half full of water, fought his way against the current and started across the uneven ground on the other side with all the speed, he could force from his aching legs and laboring lungs.
He tripped and sprawled headlong half a dozen times; and he couldn’t be sure he was heading in the right direction, or that the robot hadn’t changed his route; but he kept going, forcing one leg in front of the other, straining his eyes into the swirling blackness of the storm for some glimpse of the robot or the girl.
He had lost his lamp, and had left Ho Agar behind, but he drove on into the darkness, sobbing for breath and cursing the rutted, uneven ground that seemed to be working against him with diabolical purpose.
Another burst of lightning showed him nothing but the ragged terrain, stretching endlessly before him like some nightmare view of Hell.
HE STOPPED for an instant, his breath coming raggedly, and tried to think. He might be hundreds of yards off his course. Any of the falls he had taken might have set him off in the wrong direction; or the robot might have circled, or changed its direction after he had first sighted it.
But he couldn’t stop now. There was a chance, growing slimmer each second, that the robot was still ahead of him, so he had to keep on moving forward.
He was at the base of a small slope when he started moving again, driving himself up with legs that ached and trembled. A few feet from the top of the slope he heard a noise directly ahead, and that same instant a brilliant fork of lightning ripped apart the darkness.
By its lurid light, Rick saw a great robot facing him from the top of the slope like some wild barbaric beast, its metal body gleaming in the light, its tremendous metal hands reaching toward him, fingers opening and closing convulsively.
The robot moved toward him. Rick tried to swing his gun into position but before he could do so the robot’s great arm lashed out with the force of a battering ram, striking him on the shoulder and hurling him backward as if he’d been a toy doll.
Pie rolled down the rocky slope and the gun slipped from his hand and clattered to the base of the hill. His shoulder ached terribly and his whole side was gradually numbing from the effect of the robot’s savage blow.
He crawled to his feet at the bottom of the slope and he heard the great metal feet of the robot plunging down the hill, powdering the rocky surface with their weight.
Blinded by pain and stunned by the blow he had received, Rick staggered back from the charging robot, but his foot caught on a rock and he sprawled helplessly to the ground. He started to crawl to his feet, but he felt a slim, metal surface under his hand and he realized with a sudden wild hope that he had found the ray-rifle he had dropped.
The robot was only a dozen feet away, groping toward him, his gleaming metal body shining faintly in the blackness, when Rick snapped the rifle to his shoulder and fired four murderous blasts as fast as he could trigger the weapon.
The smoking blue beams of energy struck out from the muzzle of the gun like flaming lances and Rick saw the body of the robot suddenly transformed into a shapeless mass of molten metal. There was the acrid smell of disintegrating steel in the air for an instant and then the body of the robot crashed to the rocky ground, arms and legs flailing in a last desperate convulsion.
Rick carefully circled the destroyed creature and struggled to the top of the slope. He found the girl lying beside a great boulder. Her eyes were closed but he saw that she was still breathing.
The flimsy nightdress she was wearing was wet and tattered and her face was blue with cold.
Rick removed his own coat and wrapped it about the unconscious girl, then he lifted her in his arms and started down the slope.
At the base of the slope he saw a phosphorous light in the distance coming in his direction, and a few seconds later Ho Agar appeared, drenched and muddy, his face anxious.
He glanced quickly at the girl in Rick’s arms, then felt her pulse.
“She’s all right,” he said. “Nothing but shock and exposure. Where is the robot?”
Rick nodded toward the shapeless mass of twisted metal and Ho Agar swung his light on the molten remains of the robot. He moved to the side of the creature and removed a metal identification plaque from one of the arms.
He read the numerals and then glanced at Rick, an ironic smile on his face.
“This was 18435,” he said quietly. “The model of industry we saw working so perfectly earlier today.”
He shrugged and tossed the metal plaque to the ground, “After this,” he said, his eyes bitter, “we can never be sure.”
CHAPTER VI
“I CAN’T understand it,” Doctor Farrel said, for the dozenth time. “I can’t understand it.” He was sitting in his office and his eyes were glazed and unseeing. “Robot 1843S has been operating perfectly for three and a half years. I can’t understand this tiling tonight.”
Rick sipped his hot drink and pulled the blanket about his shoulders closer to his body. Ho Agar and Hawkins were seated on the opposite side of the room. The girl had been sleeping for an hour, now, under the effects of a powerful sedative her father had given her.
“You might understand,” he said dryly, “if you’d been with me when that wild monster started charging.” He shook his head and took another sip from his drink. “You know your work, Doctor, but if 18435 is as close as you can come to perfection in the creation of robots, you’d better stop trying.”
“I’ll never stop trying,” the doctor said fiercely. His hand closed over a paper on his desk and crushed it to a shapeless ball. He glared at Rick. “There was something wrong with that robot, but we’ll find the trouble and remedy it if it takes us the rest of our lives.”
“It may take everyone’s life,” Rick said pointedly. “Doesn’t the fact that your
own daughter was almost killed by one of your imperfect creations convince you that you’re tinkering with dynamite?”
“I recognize no personal element in this incident,” Doctor Farrel said coldly. “The fact that Rita was endangered is no more significant from a scientific viewpoint than if it had been an absolute stranger.”
Ho Agar cleared his throat as a prelude to diplomacy.
“We all admire your zeal, Doctor Farrel,” he said. “But our results are becoming more negative with each passing month. Within a very short time my superiors are going to ask me for a complete report on my work here, and if I tell them the truth they will, I am sure, withdraw their support from this activity. No one will regret this more than I, but my regret does not alter the facts.”
“I don’t give a damn if everybody walks out on me,” Doctor Farrel snarled. “This thing tonight doesn’t prove a thing; it’s just one case in a million.”
“I’d say one case in a million is too many,” Rick said.
Hawkins looked up at him and Rick saw that his swarthy face was flushed with anger.
“You’re a hero now,” he said bitterly. “So you feel you’ve got a right to shoot you’re mouth off about things here you don’t know a damn thing about.” He stood up and his lips were twisted in a sneer. “Well, I, for one, don’t have to sit around and listen. I’ve got two legs and I can leave when I want to.”
Rick grinned thinly at the swarthy maintenance chief. He was fed-up with Hawkins’ attitude and he was determined to be pushed no further.
“You’ve got a lot of teeth, also,” he said gently, “but if you continue to annoy me, you may find a few of them missing.”
Hawkins glared at him and, for an instant, Rick thought the man was going to lunge at him. His fists were clenched at his sides and his face was black with hate. But Hawkins held his anger with an obvious effort, turned and strode from the office.
Rick relaxed and sipped his drink. He couldn’t figure Hawkins out. The man was no coward, he’d bet on that, and he didn’t seem to be a fool. With a slight shrug he dismissed the matter. A show-down was coming between Hawkins and himself, but worrying about it wouldn’t help.
“I think,” Ho Agar said, “that you had better try and get some sleep, Rick.” He smiled faintly. “You’ve had a busy night.”
“That’s a good idea,” Rick said.
HE SLEPT late the next morning, then, after breakfast, he went up to see Rita Farrel. She was lying in bed, and except for the pallor of her skin and the purple shadows under her eyes she looked fairly well.
She greeted Rick with a smile, but as he sat on the edge of the bed and took her small hand in his, she stopped smiling and her face became serious.
“Ho Agar told me about last night,” she said, “and there’s nothing I can say to tell you how grateful I. am.”
Rick patted her hand gently and smiled.
“Let’s forget all about it,” he said. “How are you feeling?”
“Pretty good,” she said, “I—Rick, there’s something I want to ask you.” Her eyes met his directly and her face was grave. “I feel that you’re my friend and I think you’ll be honest with me. Do you think my father has any right to go on with his experiments after last night?”
Rick had been afraid she might ask him that, and he’d hoped she wouldn’t. “Do you mind if I smoke?” he said. “No, but don’t change the subject.” Rick lit a cigarette slowly.
“I’m no scientist,” he said finally. “I don’t pretend to understand your father’s theory, but I know it apparently works in some cases, and in some it doesn’t. Now, if these imperfections were simply mechanical, if the robots would, for instance, get out of gear and fail to perform their work as they should, it wouldn’t be so serious. Any machine can break down, and generally it can be fixed.” He paused and blew a cloud of smoke toward the ceiling and then shook his head. “These imperfections, as I see it, aren’t mechanical. They’re mental. And they take violent, homicidal turns. I don’t think civilization would ever want to take the chance of using robots that might break down and go on a rampage like that one did last night. So unless your father has some absolute cure figured out, I think he is endangering the lives of everyone at this base, by continuing to operate the robots. I think they should all be disassembled until he has a perfect theory devised.”
The girl had turned her face on the pillow as he spoke and now she said. “I was afraid you were going to say that, Rick. I realize how right you are, but,” she turned to him again beseechingly, “won’t you let him work along for a while longer? Your influence because of last night has grown enormously with the men. I know Moran is thinking of leaving and two of the engineers have threatened to quit. This means so much to Father that it would kill him if he were forced to stop now. I don’t want you to do anything actively, but if you can help him, in any small way, I’d appreciate it more than you could ever know.” Rick grinned down at the girl and there was admiration in his eyes.
“You’re certainly game,” he said. “I think, however, you overestimate my influence around here. But if I can help I will. Frankly, I don’t like the idea, but your say-so is good enough for me.”
He stood up and smoothed the soft hair back from her forehead. “I’m a sucker for a beautiful smile,” he said. “Now you’d better try and rest.”
HE LEFT the room and went downstairs. Ho Agar was alone. “There’s something I want you to do for me, if you will,” Rick said.
“If I can,” Ho Agar said.
“I’d like to spend tonight in the robot assembly laboratory,” Rick said. “That’s where the trouble started last night, and I’d like to be on hand tonight, in case there’s a repetition. Chances are there won’t be, but I want to be there just in case. Can you fix it?”
“Why, yes,” Ho Agar said slowly. He looked at Rick and there was a puzzled uncertainty in his eyes. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Rick. It might be very dangerous.”
“I know,” Rick said, “but I’m playing a hunch.”
“Do you want the others to know?” Rick shook his head. “I’ll turn in early and slip out later.”
“AH right,” Ho Agar said, “I’ll arrange everything.” He shook his head somberly. “But I don’t like it. If anything went wrong I’d feel personally responsible. Supposing one of those robots went mad and attacked you? You wouldn’t have a chance of getting out of that plant alive!”
“Maybe not,” Rick said, “but on the other hand, I may find out something about what causes these break-downs. The chance is worth taking.”
Ho Agar argued no further. He inclined his head slightly. “I will arrange everything, Rick.”
CHAPTER VII
THE robot assembly factory was dark except for infrequently placed phosphorous lamps, which cast a flickering illumination over the mile-long rows of tireless metal workers. There was no sound in the plant but the rasping jar of metal and the hum of machinery; no human voices, no laughter. Seen in the weird glow of the phosphorous lamps, the vast assembly lines looked like a futuristic concept of Hell.
There was only one human being in the entire factory. Rick had been let into the plant shortly after dark by Ho Agar. He had walked up and down the line of robot workers for an hour or so, but their conduct had been exemplary. Now he was standing in the shadow of great turbine and from that position he could command a view of the entire factory. He was beginning to feel that he had been foolish in taking the thousand-to-one chance that some trouble might develop here tonight. From what he had learned, the occasions when a robot had gone on the destructive warpath were few and far between. And he was wondering what good it would do if he did happen to be on hand when one of the robots went mad. If Doctor Farrel and Ho Agar couldn’t correct the trouble, what could he hope to do?
He was idly watching the nearest group of robots, about fifty yards from him, while these thoughts were running through his head. There was one that was easily two feet taller than the others, for he had
been constructed to work on an upper carriage of the line where height was essential. This robot was a giant, almost eight feet tall and probably weighing eight or nine hundred pounds.
Rick was watching this mighty creature perform his methodical task again and again with untiring strength and skill, and the sight was magnificent. The fluid, effortless flow of energy that motivated the great robot, the tireless precision of its work and its almost unimaginable power were testimonials to the genius of Doctor Farrel. Watching the mighty machine creature, Rick was forced to realize the tremendous importance of the doctor’s work. If creatures like this, perfect in every detail, could ever be produced satisfactorily, civilization would advance in one giant stride to the millennium.
But suddenly his muscles tensed; the cigarette in his hand dropped to the floor.
For the giant robot had stopped work, was turning slowly, purposefully, away from its position in the line.
Rick was deep in the shadows cast by the turbine and he knew he was beyond the range of the robot’s vision; but he watched tensely as the giant creature moved slowly toward him, its great hands extended gropingly.
RICK backed into the deeper shadows formed by the corner of the wall and the turbine, but as the robot continued to advance, he realized with sudden sharp horror that he was cut off from any escape, for he had trapped himself in the angle of the corner.
He cursed the thoughtlessness that had prevented him from bringing a ray-rifle; he was completely unarmed, with nothing but his bare fists to oppose the giant robot, should the mighty creature attack.
The robot was still advancing, its heavy feet striking the concrete floor with shattering force. And Rick knew then that the creature had seen him, and was closing in on him with deliberate purpose.
He had waited too long. Had he moved the instant the creature left the line he could have gotten out of the corner, but it was too late for that now. He moved tentatively to the left, but the robot moved sideways with incredible speed, blocking off his attempt.
Collected Fiction (1940-1963) Page 202
