On the Planet of Zombie Vampires

by Harry Harrison

  Things were scuttling and scratching just on the other side of the door. Bill could all too easily imagine the mob of aliens gathered there, scant inches from where he stood. He drove them from his mind and finished the door, moving to the air vent that Uhuru and Rambette weren't using.

  Caine had come up with steel plates to cover the vents, and he and Blight held one in place while Bill tacked the corners down. Then he started sealing the edge.

  "Something's coming!" cried Tootsie.

  "What do you expect?" said Christianson. "There's a whole gaggle of aliens outside the door."

  "No," she moaned. "There's something coming through the air duct Uhuru and Rambette went into."

  "It's too early for them to be coming back," said Curly. "Far too early."

  "It's getting closer!" moaned Tootsie. "I can hear its rasping breath!"

  "Wow!" cried Curly. "Here it comes!"

  Bill turned to the other vent and thumbed his welder to maximum flame. Only the fact that his extension cord was too short prevented him from frying Barfer when he came bounding out of the duct, closely followed by Bruiser.

  "You scared the life out of me," moaned Tootsie. "Where have you been?"

  "I had to get back to my bunk. Got some t'ngs dere," said Bruiser sheepishly.

  "What things?" cried Curly. "What could possibly be so important you'd go out there and risk your life against all those aliens?"

  "I left dis pitcher dere," he said. "It's da only one I got of her."

  "You must really love your mother," said Bill lachrymosely, shutting off the welder.

  "Mother?" cried Bruiser. "I never had no mother. I was government issued. Dis my girlfriend's pitcher."

  Bill took the picture Bruiser held out for him. The woman looked like a female Bruiser, a sumo-wrestler-sized mountain of muscle.

  "She's — hideously attractive," said Bill, handing Bruiser back the picture. "And I can tell there's a lot of her to love."

  "T'anks," said Bruiser. "And I found dis under your bunk." He handed Bill a fair-sized box and a folded piece of paper.

  Bill took the box, opened the paper and read it.

  Dear Bill,

  If you live to find this, it may be of some possible use to you. I hope you won't take offense but that foot of yours is about the ugliest thing I've ever seen, and certainly can't be comfortable to schlep around. I have taken the liberty of providing you with the means of replacement. Simply press the red button to start it up, and when the green light comes on, stick that repulsive appendage of yours in the hole. The resulting bud should take about two months to grow out.

  Your Chinger friend,

  Eager Beager

  P.S. Don't forget our little agreement. Keep up the good work spreading dissension in the ranks.

  "What is it?" asked Bruiser.

  "Didn't you read it?" Bill asked, crumpling the note into a small ball and putting it in his pocket.

  "Don't read too good," said Bruiser. "Like books wit lotsa pitchers."

  "It's a package from home," lied Bill.

  "Cookies," grunted Bruiser, taking the welding torch from Bill. "Hate cookies. Here, I'll finish dat."

  "I'm sure that you will all be excited to know that I have completed the first draft of my scientific tour de force," said Caine, holding out a fifty-page tome held together with an oversized paper clip. "It will take me some time to finish it, since I have to share the computer with the autopilot, and typing with an upside-down hand is rather difficult."

  "Here we come!" yelled Uhuru, as he and Rambette came tumbling out of the vent. Blight and Christianson immediately slammed the steel plate in place and Bruiser started welding.

  "It was terrible!" Uhuru cried. "Horrible!"

  "Did the aliens chase you?" asked Curly "Did they almost catch you?"

  "No," said Uhuru. "But going through those ducts was awful. They're too small — and dark? There is no darkness like the darkness in an air duct. You can't turn around in them and it's easy to get lost. It's a stupid way to travel if you ask me. I ripped my spacesuit, too. I have galloping claustrophobia and hay fever — Achoo! — from all the dust in there."

  "Forty-five seconds," said Moe. "The charges are about to blow. Are you finished with that last seal, Bruiser?"

  "Yeah," he said. "Hey! — da flame's out! Da room's dark!" A feeble emergency light came on.

  "We blew a fuse!" cried Tootsie. "There's no way to stop the bombs. We're going to lose all our air and die!"

  "Give me that report, Caine!" shouted Bill.

  "This is no time for research," said Caine as Bill grabbed it away from him, pulling off the paper clip and throwing the papers away. "Hey! My paper clip!" Caine shouted. "It's the last one on the ship!"

  Bill sprinted across the room and ripped open the fuse box, jamming the paper clip across the main terminals.

  "Five seconds!" cried Moe as the lights flicked back on and Bruiser's torch lit. "Three."

  "Got it!" cried Bruiser as the ship shook violently, tossing them left ... then right ... then left again.

  "Are we...?" asked Larry.

  "Did it...?" asked Moe.

  "Can we...?" asked Curly.

  "We're okay," sighed Rambette. "I heard a lot of swooshing and crashing and some noises that sounded exactly like aliens getting sucked through the hull into outer space."

  "Let's eat!" cried Curly. "Where's that food, Larry?"

  "What food?" he said. "You were supposed to get the food."

  "Don't look at me," said Moe. "I was busy making the timers for the bombs."

  "What are we going to do?" moaned Tootsie. "We finally get rid of the aliens, and now we're going to starve to death."

  "Not quite," sighed Bill. "I think Barfer has the right idea."

  The dog was standing in the middle of an okra bed, wagging his tail. He had a few choice sprouts in his happy mouth.

  Three weeks later Bill pressed the red button and got rid of his elephant foot. He figured after all this time, it was safe to abandon his stomper. The resulting bud was little and pink, but there was no telling what it might grow out to be.

  Everybody was totally revolted by okra, even though Captain Blight had shown remarkable imagination in devising new ways to prepare it. He could do everything with the plant except hide the fact that it was okra. Curly's best estimate was that it would be another six to eight weeks before they could expect the opportunity to change their diet.

  The day after Bill stuck his foot in the hole, he thought he saw something scuttle between two of the okra beds. He hoped it was a mouse, but he had a funny feeling it wasn't.