The Philip K. Dick Megapack
gun. “Shall we blast them?”
    Franks shook his head. “All right,” he said to the leader. “We’ll go back.”
    He moved toward the door, motioning Taylor and Moss to follow him. They looked at him in surprise, but they came with him. The leadys followed them out into the great warehouse. Slowly they moved toward the Tube entrance, none of them speaking.
    At the lip, Franks turned. “We are going back because we have no choice. There are three of us and about a dozen of you. However, if—”
    “Here comes the car,” Taylor said.
    There was a grating sound from the Tube. D-class leadys moved toward the edge to receive it.
    “I am sorry,” the leader said, “but it is for your protection. We are watching over you, literally. You must stay below and let us conduct the war. In a sense, it has come to be our war. We must fight it as we see fit.”
    The car rose to the surface.
    Twelve soldiers, armed with Bender pistols, stepped from it and surrounded the three men.
    Moss breathed a sigh of relief. “Well, this does change things. It came off just right.”
    The leader moved back, away from the soldiers. It studied them intently, glancing from one to the next, apparently trying to make up its mind. At last it made a sign to the other leadys. They coasted aside and a corridor was opened up toward the warehouse.
    “Even now,” the leader said, “we could send you back by force. But it is evident that this is not really an observation party at all. These soldiers show that you have much more in mind; this was all carefully prepared.”
    “Very carefully,” Franks said.
    They closed in.
    “How much more, we can only guess. I must admit that we were taken unprepared. We failed utterly to meet the situation. Now force would be absurd, because neither side can afford to injure the other; we, because of the restrictions placed on us regarding human life, you because the war demands—”
    The soldiers fired, quick and in fright. Moss dropped to one knee, firing up. The leader dissolved in a cloud of particles. On all sides D- and B-class leadys were rushing up, some with weapons, some with metal slats. The room was in confusion. Off in the distance a siren was screaming. Franks and Taylor were cut off from the others, separated from the soldiers by a wall of metal bodies.
    “They can’t fire back,” Franks said calmly. “This is another bluff. They’ve tried to bluff us all the way.” He fired into the face of a leady. The leady dissolved. “They can only try to frighten us. Remember that.”
    They went on firing, and leady after leady vanished. The room reeked with the smell of burning metal, the stink of fused plastic and steel. Taylor had been knocked down. He was struggling to find his gun, reaching wildly among metal legs, groping frantically to find it. His fingers strained, a handle swam in front of him. Suddenly something came down on his arm, a metal foot. He cried out.
    Then it was over. The leadys were moving away, gathering together off to one side. Only four of the Surface Council remained. The others were radioactive particles in the air. D-class leadys were already restoring order, gathering up partly destroyed metal figures and bits and removing them.
    Franks breathed a shuddering sigh.
    “All right,” he said. “You can take us back to the windows. It won’t be long now.”
    The leadys separated, and the human group, Moss and Franks and Taylor and the soldiers, walked slowly across the room, toward the door. They entered the Council Chamber. Already a faint touch of gray mitigated the blackness of the windows.
    “Take us outside,” Franks said impatiently. “We’ll see it directly, not in here.”
    A door slid open. A chill blast of cold morning air rushed in, chilling them even through their lead suits. The men glanced at each other uneasily.
    “Come on,” Franks said. “Outside.”
    He walked out through the door, the others following him.
    They were on a hill, overlooking the vast

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