Down one of the intersecting streets came a long snakelike wheeled carrier, that pulled alongside the edge of the dump and slowed to a stop. The arched armored roof tilted up and back in sections, the first sections swinging far back to brace the carrier from tipping off-balance, as successively, other heavy sections swung up and over. Out of the carrier crept a long device like a metal centipede, with flanged underside instead of legs. The device inched its way forward as successive waves of expansion and contraction moved along its length. The headlike appendage at the front, fitted with multiple visual receptors behind thick glass plates, and two groups of four large gun muzzles on a side, selected a low place between two heaps of garbage, and pushed forward steadily, thrust ahead by the metallic bulk following along behind in steady successive waves of expansion and contraction; the flanges lifting, tilting, flowing forward, dipping down and thrusting steadily back.
Now an amplified voice boomed out: “You are surrounded. Surrender peacefully and you will be remanded for psychiatric examination to the Central Medical Computer. You will not be harmed. Resist, and you will be destroyed at once. You have no choice. Surrender. Throw your weapons toward the—”
Atop the bandstand, the man who’d been arguing with the others had dropped to one knee, his gun resting on a half-rotted rail at the edge of the platform.
There was a solitary bang, and the voice demanding surrender went silent.
* * *
Morrissey said, “They aren’t throwing their guns out, and they aren’t fighting, either. That metal snake is going to get to them in about a minute-and-a-half and blow them to bits. Isn’t there something we can—”
Roberts thought fast, and said, “Reset the generator. Hit them with ‘Desire to obey the law.'”
Morrissey flipped quickly through the list, glancing nervously back at the screen as the enormous metal centipede crawled steadily through the piles of trash.
“Do we have ‘Desire to obey the law’?”
Roberts tore his gaze from the screen. “It’s halfway down the list. ‘Obedience to authority’ or something like that.”
“That’s it,” said Morrissey. Quickly, he reset the want-generator.
On the screen, the leader of the humans, on the bandstand, was talking in a low urgent voice, lying flat on the stand as a metallic head started up over a mound of trash, and suddenly every other human stood up. Every single individual either threw a length of pipe, or threw a padded bundle, or fired a gun, or lunged right or left through the garbage to get a clean shot or throw around the side of the stand.
Everyone’s aim was good.
In a terrific series of flashes, the head end of the huge metal centipede blew apart.
In one spontaneous surge, the humans then plunged through the garbage to the stand and in a line that moved like clockwork, dropped one-by-one through the trapdoor into the interior.
All save for the leader, who was now on his knees, hands clasped and head uplifted, lips moving, his expression earnest.
“Shut it off,” said Roberts exasperatedly.
On the screen, the leader suddenly bowed his head, opened his eyes, and jumped down the hole. The trapdoor slammed shut.
A plume of dirty smoke climbed up from the wrecked front end of the metal centipede.
“Now what?” said Morrissey, glancing from the controls to the screen. “Did I somehow get the wrong setting?”
“No,” said Roberts. “As usual, it was the right setting, but they just interpreted it their own way. To them, ‘desire to obey authority’ meant desire to obey their leader. And to the leader, it apparently meant desire to obey God. None of them had the slightest impulse to do what we intended, and obey the city authority—the computer and the roboid police.”
“Well,” said Morrissey, “all I have to say is, this little incident opens up sweeping vistas of trouble ahead. Other groups of people in that city would have obeyed the city authorities.”
Roberts nodded. “Their reactions are more diverse than they were the last time. It’s as if they were somehow splitting up into factions that respond differently to the same desire.”
Hammell cleared his throat. “And there’s one minor faction that apparently can resist the desire-field when it conflicts with his purpose—the leader of that gang. To hit him with the effects we want might take an intensity that would send the others into shock.”
Roberts considered that in silence.
“You’ve got to admit we’re getting nowhere.” said Morrissey.
“We’ve just started,” said Roberts stubbornly
Hammell said sourly. “Yeah. We’re finding out the things that don’t work.”
Outside in the forest, where darkness was starting to gather, something gave a bellowing roar that the yacht’s thin hull hardly seemed to muffle.
The roboid Holcombe appeared at the entrance to the gravity lift, and bowed.
“Dinner is served, my lords.”
* * *
Dinner was a sumptuous meal, but halfway through the dessert the curving wall of the space yacht’s dining saloon lit up in a reflected pinkish glow. There was a bellow of pain and rage from outside. From overhead came a metallic rattle, then a muffled booming voice:
“Your attention, please. This vessel is fully protected by appropriate devices of the Advanced Synodic Products Corporation. It will retaliate automatically against any aggressive or hostile action.”
There was a second glare of pink light, the deck shook underfoot; there was a bellow that traveled around in a large circle outside; then abruptly there was a dazzling white glare, followed by a sizzle as if ten tons of meat had been dropped into a monster frying pan.
Roberts quickly understood that sound. It meant that some gigantic beast, singed by the space yacht, had galloped around and got too close to the patrol ship. Which of the patrol ship’s big fusion guns had done the business was a good question, but it was all the same to whatever got in their way. Roberts finished his dessert quickly, anxious to get back to something with a hull that wouldn’t fold up if some irritable monster took a crack at it.
Hammell said nervously, “The stinking fifth-rate computer on this tub must not be able to distinguish between dead behemoths lying around, and live ones sneaking in. Otherwise, how did that thing get so close?”
“Yes,” said Roberts, getting up and reaching for his suit of battle armor. He tilted it off-base, lugged it over to the table, reached inside and turned a valve that relaxed the hydraulic columns inside. The suit slumped facedown on the table, which creaked under it, then Roberts heaved the back panel open and climbed in. Without a sling to hold the suit upright, getting into it was a fairly ridiculous procedure, but neither Hammell nor Morrissey had anything to say about that. They were too busy staring out into the dark clearing, and worrying about ways to get a little more protection out of the energy cannon and the pure-routine computer that operated it. Hammell finally shook his head, glanced absently toward Roberts, and suddenly jumped back.
Roberts had straightened up, and was just swinging the back panel shut. He grinned.
“What’s the matter? Don’t I look nice in this thing?”
Hammell’s laugh came to him clearly, through the earphones of the suit. “I’ve already told you. You look like an overgrown gorilla. I was thinking about those animals outside, and for a second, I thought one had got in. Ye gods, that suit is big! Is it hard to work the arms?”
“A little,” said Roberts. “Not too bad.”
“Why’s the helmet so big?”
“I don’t know. It’s not big inside.”
“Well, it must be comforting to be inside that.”
“You want one?” said Roberts. “There are three extras just like it on the patrol ship—for three other crew members. In fact, you could sleep there. There are four bunks. I could bring back a couple of extra suits for you to wear across the clearing, and—”
Hammell hesitated, then shook his head.
“No, thanks. Even at used-ship prices, we’ve got too much invested in this yacht to leave it to the mercies of these beasts, even overnight. And we couldn’t work in armored suits, so—thanks anyway.”
Reluctantly, Roberts nodded. “O.K. then.”
The three men said good night, and Roberts went down the grav-drop, out the hatch and into the night.
* * *
Roberts was sound asleep when, sometime during the night, there was a banging noise somewhere outside. It reached him, well-muffled and distant, and he merely turned over and pulled the covers more tightly around him.
Several hours went by, broken by very distant bellows and screams, and booming far-off public-address-system noises.
Around four in the morning, there came a thundering crash.
Roberts woke up enough to wonder if he had heard something, but quickly fell asleep again.
About 0630, the symbiotic computer gradually turned up the lights, and then woke him with a buzz.