"Sounds like a winner. I'll get on that," said Uhuru. "But we'll have to divide up the work. There's a lot to do. Who got the spare fuses?"
"I did," said Rambette.
"Okay, Bill starts on the fuses. The main bank's all blown and the circuit to the kitchen is giving us trouble each time I turn on the oven."
"Bill can drive a forklift, too," said Tootsie. "You should have seen him moving all that heavy junk."
"Good," said Uhuru. "We can use you for that, Bill. We need to move some steel plates out of the repair docks. It's a lucky thing we're on a repair ship. There are lots of vital parts here."
"I'd prefer to be on a killer-grade destroyer," said Bill. "That way we'd have what we need in the way of weapons."
"We've got to make do with what's at hand," said Uhuru. "No sense lamenting over what we don't have. Now, who brought back the silver screens?"
"Larry did," said Moe.
"No he didn't," said Tootsie. "He got the computer boards. I was with him the whole time. It wasn't on his list."
"Well, it was on somebody's list," said Uhuru. "Which dirty bowb forgot them? We need them to repair the shields. We can't lift off unless the shields are working."
Bill looked at his list. There it was: TWO ANODIZED SILVER SCREENS (2).
"I was busy," explained Bill. "I guess I forgot."
"We were all busy," snarled Rambette. "And the rest of us managed to get our shopping done while we were dodging aliens."
"You'll have to go back, Bill," said Uhuru grimly. "We need those screens."
CHAPTER 14
Bill worked hard with the fuses so he didn't even have to think about the screen problem. It was comforting, specialized work that he had trained hard to master. Put fuse in, take fuse out. The most skilled part was reading the little numbers stamped on the end of each fuse. The numbers were always faint and nearly impossible to make out. Bill was proud of his technical skill. Actually, he kind of liked fuses. They either worked or they didn't. Fuses had very little middle ground, and they didn't waffle around much. Besides, these were small fuses, not like the huge ones he'd had to manhandle in the battleships. As an added benefit, fuses were almost always located away from the places most people went, so he had some time to himself.
He was enjoying the quiet, moronic work, testing an entire bank of fuses, when Rambette came into the fuse chamber and started talking to him.
"I've got wire splicing detail," she said, brandishing one of her sharpest knives and cutting the insulation off a strand of orange cable. "This ship is pretty banged up."
"Tell me about it. It's a good thing for all of you that I'm a skilled fusetender," he said humbly. "I think I've got enough blown fuses to fill the station's basement."
Rambette shuddered delicately. "Don't mention that place to me — I still got nightmares."
"It seems like there's a creeping horror behind every door these days," mused Bill, zapping a fuse with a sizzling load of volts. "Bruiser killed two in the galley. Blight composted them. Makes great fertilizer he says. What do you hear about Curly?"
"Except for his ear, he seems all right. He's busy digging into the autopilot now. He should be okay. But I think I sprained my andromeda back there."
"I never heard of one of those," Bill said.
"A lot you know! I know an andromeda strain when I get one," snapped Rambette. "They're pure agony. Here, hold this orange wire."
"Sure," said Bill, taking it in one of his right hands.
"Now grab this yellow one," said Rambette, handing him another wire which he took in his other right hand.
"Yow!" shrieked Bill, getting a jolt of juice that made his hair curl and his tusks smoke.
"Good," said Rambette. "They're both live. That's what I needed to know. Hold them while I splice them together."
"Yow!" cried Bill. "Yow!"
"That's great," said Rambette, wrapping tape around the wires. "I'm all through now. See you later."
"Yow!" Bill yowed one last time.
It took about five minutes for his hands to stop tingling enough to let him grab and pull the next fuse. It checked out a dud, and he was trying to read the number when Caine came in.
"Oh, there you are, Bill," he said. "I've been looking for you."
"You found me," he grumped. "Now get lost. I have work to do."
"I want to run a theory by you," said the android. "Send it up the flagpole, so to speak, and see who salutes it. Listen. Since we got back on the ship and are relatively safe for the moment, my scientific curiosity has returned with increased vigor."
"You're not planning some dumb thing like smuggling some deadly aliens back in a jar, are you?" Bill asked with suspicious horror.
"I'm not that curious. But I'll no doubt get a delightful research paper out of this horrible experience. I'll be famous, and if you aid me you will be cited as reference material. Assuming, of course, that we get out of this difficult situation alive."
"Would you kindly keep that kind of bowb to yourself and get out of here."
"No, listen, I'm serious. I have the life cycles of the creatures almost completely worked out. When we arrived they somehow sensed an increase in the available food supply — they are undoubtedly sensitive to the essence of life, the élan vital that flows through all living creatures — and hatched out a new generation. The older ones that were around when we arrived must have been feeding off what remained of the mummified crew. Isn't that a wonderful scenario?"
"Delightful," sneered Bill, who did not care to be considered snack food for aliens.
"I knew you would see the beauty in such a complex and monstrously malevolent life form," said Caine happily. "The others refuse to listen to me."
"With very good reason, you sadistic android!" Bill shouted. "Now get out!"
Caine, carried away by his theories, ignored the suggestion. Eyes gleaming with inspiration, finger raised lecturingly, he went on. "I postulate that each step in the life cycle is larger and more dangerous than the previous stage. So far the biggest ones we've seen are the Curly-sized variety, but that is surely not their upper limit. If you're lucky, you might see an even larger one when you return to get the screens."
"Would you kindly shut your gob," groaned Bill.
"Even if you do, I don't suppose you'll be able to collect a sample for me," Caine hinted smarmily, then dodged when Bill reached for him. "Of course, I understand, that's really too much to ask. But I could use a really detailed description. Measurements would help, too. Be sure to be objective when you run up against one. Take your time, make notes. I can't have any muddled reports in my paper."
"I'm going to kill you if you don't leave now," said Bill, looking for a really heavy fuse to bash the bowb's head in with.
"You can't mean that, Bill. Look on this as a service to science. And if you're real, real lucky, you might even meet up with the queen."
"Royalty here?" asked Bill.
"A technical and scientific term usually used to refer to an insect progenitor. Something must be laying all those eggs. She's probably huge, much larger than the Curly-sized ones. And dangerous, too. Nothing in nature is as violent as a mother protecting her young. I'd give a lot to be able to observe that."
"Done! You can go instead of me," Bill shouted happily.
"Thanks for the kind offer — but I need to survive to write my research paper, and whoever meets up with the mother is not likely to come back alive. To tell you the truth, I think I'll have to omit that part from my report. I'll have to be satisfied with conjecture about that stage of the life cycle. I'll keep it logical and consistent. I'm sure that a single slight omission shouldn't keep me from being published."
"That's good," lied Bill, lifting a fuse — not heavy enough to beat out the android's brains with. "What the universe really needs now is a scientific paper about alien monsters."
"See? I knew you'd understand. Well, I must be back to my repairs. The okra room is a mess. Talking with you has been a big help. See
you later."
The fuse crashed into the door an instant after he closed it. Once again Bill lapsed into the grateful, depressed silence. A Trooper could gather his thoughts alone like this. To think things over, a good place to worry, a good place to get scared to death at every little noise.
Suddenly it didn't seem as quiet as it had been. There were lots of little creaks and groans that Bill sincerely hoped were just the sounds of metal snapping with temperature changes. There were faint rustling and scuttling noises that Bill earnestly prayed were simply rodents.
Scuttle? Bill looked fearfully around, but there was nothing out of the ordinary in sight. His elephant foot twitched ominously. Hadn't Rambette said they killed two of the aliens within the ship? If two, why not three? Four? A hundred? Bill shuddered and quickly shoved a fuse into place. He was sweating now, his hands shaking. His moment of peace was ended. He had to finish quickly and get back to the others. Being alone with hidden, crawling, deadly creatures that could be lurking in every shadow was a form of suicide. The scuttling and scratching grew louder. Bill dropped a fuse. Something moved!
"Yow!" screamed Bill, jumping back and raising his elephant foot high in the air. "Yow!"
"Don't stomp me, Bill," cried a seven-inch-high Chinger, waving all four arms in the air. "You'll only hurt your foot. Don't you remember me?"
"Eager Beager? Is that you?" asked Bill, stopping his foot in midstomp with the greatest of difficulty.
"None other," said the little green creature.
"How'd you get here?" Bill asked.
"Easily. Through the door down by that docking tube. It was open and the cretin on guard with the homemade flamethrower was taking a nap. I'd keep it closed if I was you. And hang the guard up by the thumbs. This is a dangerous place."
"But how'd you get here?" Bill asked in wonderment. "I mean to this planet, at this time?"
"The Chinger ship I was on heard your automatic distress signal when you crash-landed, and came to investigate. Though you are our enemies, by your own choosing of course, we are still moral creatures and we would help any survivors. But not this time. When we realized which planet this was we decided to keep our distance."
"Tootsie was right," moaned Bill. "We're going to die, killed by aliens one way or another. If the cocoon aliens don't get us, you little green ones will."
"Knock off the paranoia, Bill. Have I ever attempted to harm you? Your military indoctrination is showing. And, incidentally, I don't really consider myself an alien," said Eager Beager. "To me, you're the alien. But, philosophical questions aside, you really don't have much to worry about from us Chingers here."
"That's a relief," said Bill. "It may have taken you thousands of years to discover fighting, but you picked it up quick."
"Only in self-defense, to save what we hold near and dear. And we're not hanging around here very long. It's far too dangerous. We've known about this planet for years and make great efforts to avoid the place. It amused us greatly when you decided to build a communications station here. It was a masterstroke of sheer stupidity."
"That's the military mind for you," agreed Bill. "If it's stupid or criminal don't look for an intelligent way out — just send in the troops."
"But the truly incredible part is how you managed to build the station right on top of the alien's nest. That's like standing on the only anthill in the middle of a desert. Even the dumbest bowb would move a couple steps to one side. Proving once again that 'military intelligence' is formed by two mutually incompatible words."
"But it wasn't my fault the ship came here. We had little choice. And besides, someone else made the decisions."
"Now that is a train of logic that's dangerous and murky as all get-out," said Eager Beager. "I think that falls into the domain of 'I was just following orders.' A lot of evil has been perpetrated in the universe by people abandoning intelligence and thinking that way. Abrogating your responsibility by blaming it on others might be temporarily good for your mental health, but somewhere along the line somebody has to answer for everything."
"Sure," Bill agreed, having lost track of the complex argument, his brain cells deadened by years of military discipline. He changed the subject before he could be forced to think. "By the way, you wouldn't happen to know how's the war going? I've been out of touch on this ship."
"It's going quite well, or badly, depending on your perspective."
"Who's winning?" asked Bill.
"No one's winning, airhead!" shouted the Chinger. "Or, rather, each side is claiming to be winning, which is exactly the same thing. There are battles being fought in almost every corner of the galaxy. The body counts, even adjusting for inflation, are staggering."
"The Emperor is quite fond of this war," sighed Bill. "He'll keep it up as long as he can. It's good for the economy and keeps a lot of people employed, mostly us Troopers."
"But we both know it's senseless and can't be won by either side. It's not logical to continue."
"Logic has never been the strong point of the military mind," said Bill. "But how did you figure out I was here?"
"We were listening in on your radio communications when I discovered you were on the ship," said the Chinger, leaning back and resting on his little tail. "I thought I'd drop in and see how your pacification efforts were coming along."
"Well," evaded Bill. "I've had my hands full lately."
"It can't be more important than ending this senseless war," said Eager Beager. "Nothing's more important than that."
"I've had day-to-day survival on my mind," said Bill. "Stomping aliens and trying to stay one step ahead of the grim reaper has been keeping me pretty busy."
"As I recall you agreed to sow dissension and spread propaganda for us," said the Chinger. "That was the deal for your new foot. And, speaking of your foot, what happened to it? That thing you've got on the end of your leg is the ugliest excuse for a foot I've ever seen. It looks like it belongs on a large, gray mammal."
"It's a long story," said Bill. "I traded your old one in, and this is what I got stuck with."
"I could probably arrange to get you a new foot in exchange for vital information and war secrets. They don't mean anything, but we are beginning to develop a military class that is just as stupid as your military class. That is the real horror of this war."
"Actually, this foot has turned out to be kind of useful," said Bill, tapping it up and down. "In our current desperate situation it's handy to have a stomping device with you at all times."
"Suit yourself. But I would really like to see more constructive peaceful effort on your part. I am putting myself to considerable risk making contact with you, and it seems the least you could do in return is bend a few minds in the right direction."
"I did take part in a mutiny."
"That's a good step," said the Chinger. "The erosion of authority can lead to independent thought. Once the teeming masses start questioning the actions of those who seek power, maybe we can break the chains of stupidity that keep us locked in this idiotic conflict."
"Oh," said Bill. "I guess I can give you the ship's destination and cargo. That's probably a secret or something."
"It's probably a worthless secret," said the Chinger, "because in all likelihood you'll never survive long enough to leave this planet. Lay it on me anyway."
"We're bound for Beta Draconis," said Bill. "And we've got a load of okra."
"I knew it would be worthless information," said Eager Beager. "There's nothing in Beta Draconis but a bunch of busted ships. We really whipped you there. If I didn't hate this war so badly, I'd be real proud of our side. And what's with the okra? Taste treats for the overworked troops?"
"It's more like a hobby the captain has," said Bill. "He grows it, but he doesn't eat it."
"I'll never understand you humans," said the Chinger, throwing three of his arms in the air and scratching his tummy with the fourth. "Always engaged in senseless activities."
"It's not exactly senseless. My dog likes
the okra."
"That's what I mean," said Eager Beager. "Did you know humans are the only creatures in the universe that keep other creatures as pets? Kind of makes you wonder, doesn't it."
"I never gave it much thought," admitted Bill.
"I detect someone coming down the hall," said the Chinger. "I've got to get going. I don't know if I'll get back here or not, since our crew is anxious to exit this menacing planet. I want you to know that even if you die and are no use to me anymore, you've been a pretty nice human, as humans go."
"Thanks, I think," said Bill. "The feeling is mutual, little feller."
"If you survive this, don't forget to keep on sowing dissension," said Eager Beager, tearing an opening in the metal wall and scuttling through it. "If you don't survive, forget it."
"What was that?" asked Uhuru, coming into the utility room. "Did I see something scuttle away just now? Were you talking to someone?"
"It was nothing," lied Bill. "I was reading the numbers off the fuses to myself."
"It's hard to see anything through this fogged-up faceplate," said Uhuru, smearing it with a gloved hand. "And these rotten little lights cause a lot of glare. I wish I could turn them off. I don't need them except in the dark anyway."
"I'm just about finished with the fuses," said Bill.
"Forget the fuses," said Uhuru. "We need those screens right away. It's time for you to go back to that cavern of certain doom."
CHAPTER 15
"Take this flamethrower," said Moe as they were outfitting Bill in the control room. "I made it myself out of a sump pump."
"And here are some grenades," said Uhuru. "They're kind of delicate. Try not to bump into anything. You can hang them from your belt."
"Take one of my knives," offered Rambette. "Not that one, it's my best, my favorite. I won't tell you about the throats.... Take one of the others. It's just that since you probably won't be coming back alive, I don't want to lose my best knife, too. You understand."
"Yeah, yeah," Bill muttered in numb incomprehension. He was beyond understanding anything, now that fear had occupied almost all of his brain.
On the Planet of Zombie Vampires Page 11
