The putty unwrapped in sticky strings. It smelled oily. I wedged it into the door, all around the entire frame; I wadded up the extra putty and jammed it around the lock panel.

  I armed the detonator, waited for the double green lights, then broke it in half and pushed the piece that was still blinking into the putty.

  Then I hobbled back away as quickly as I could.

  I waited off to one side—in case something came charging straight out of the building; I told the robot to back off at an angle too. If necessary, we could set up a withering cross fire. It should work.

  I held up the other half of the detonator, flipped the cover off the red button—and pressed it.

  The door came off with a bang. The explosion was much smaller than I'd expected. There was almost no smoke at all.

  Nothing else happened.

  That was the last thing that I expected.

  Damn and double damn.

  I wished Duke were here. Duke was much better at swearing than I was.

  I approached the bath house slowly and stiffly. The doorway gaped. It was ominously still and very silent.

  This was not my idea of a good time.

  I brought the robot up closer and put it on full alert. "Halloo—? Anyone?"

  No answer.

  I crunched up through the still-smoldering vegetation and kicked the door aside with one boot. It clattered heavily to the floor.

  Now I saw why it had been so hard to open before. The heavy tables that Ted and I had been using as lab benches had been propped up behind it—along with everything else heavy in the building.

  Uh-oh.

  "Duke? Anyone?"

  Silence.

  I stepped over the debris and into the bath house. There were no lights and it took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dimness. It looked like the inside of a siege.

  Most of the equipment that Ted and I had left had been used to buttress the door; the rest was shoved into the corner.

  I crossed to the shower room.

  There were three of them. Sergeant Kelly. Carlos. Larry. They were lying on mattresses on the floor. Sergeant Kelly was bandaged and unconscious. Carlos looked feverish and delirious. Larry looked too weak to move. He looked at me blankly.

  They'd been in here without food or water for how long?

  Three days? Five?

  And with those things outside scratching at the door trying to get in—?

  I shuddered. I hoped to God I never found myself besieged by Chtorran bugs. I'm claustrophobic enough—

  I knelt by Larry's side, already uncorking my canteen. He sucked at it eagerly. The water dribbled down his chin. I finally had to pull it away from him. I was able to get a little water down Carlos's throat, and I also hit him with a hypo-spray of broad-spectrum antibiotics. Maybe it wasn't too late.

  I couldn't tell what condition Sergeant Kelly was in; maybe it was best to leave her unconscious for now. I gave her what water I could and turned back to Larry. His eyes had been following my every move.

  "Where's Duke?" I asked.

  Larry shook his head, very weakly. He didn't know.

  I handed him the canteen and the ration bag. "Don't try to move—"

  That was stupid. "I'll—"

  I'll what?

  There wasn't anything I could do—except maybe sit here and watch them die.

  I couldn't call for help. All the communications gear had been in the main building.

  Maybe I could get that last Jeep working—

  And maybe I could drive us down the mountain and—

  And maybe—I would wake up safe and sound in my own bed and fmd out this had all been a terrible dream.

  Outside, something chirruped.

  It sounded purple.

  52

  "I don't have any friends!"

  "A hero is a man who consistently violates the law of conservation of energy."

  —SOLOMON SHORT

  I came stumbling out the door just in time to see a rhinoceros-sized worm charging up the hill toward the robot. The robot stepped delicately sideways, crouched low for stability, and fired both its heavy guns. The worm shuddered under the assault; its flesh exploded where the bullets dug at it—but it kept on coming.

  The robot began unslinging its grenade launchers. This was going to be messy.

  A second worm appeared behind the first, adding its cry of purple rage to the melee.

  I didn't have time to think. There wasn't anything to figure out. I pointed the torch and burned. The worm screamed. The robot fired. The worm exploded. The second worm plowed into the robot, knocking it ass over teakettle. I fired again. The second worm flamed and crisped. Turned and saw the third worm charging straight at me—and fired.

  And then everything was silent again.

  Where was the fourth worm?

  In the nest?

  Three worms on a hunting party? Possibly.

  Did I dare leave Sergeant Kelly and Carlos and Larry here unprotected to go investigate?

  Something clanked. The robot was pulling itself right-side up again. It steadied itself and began running a series of self-tests. There were scorch marks on its sides where the burning worm had rolled over on it and there was a big dent in its hood, but other than that it looked relatively undamaged.

  After a moment, the Marauder beeped and reported that it was still 89 percent functional. Anything over 70 percent was good.

  "Stay here," I told it. "Do not let anything attack the building."

  "Affirmative."

  I circled the bath house once, then again—all the while holding the torch ready. I went halfway down the slope looking for the fourth worm. I didn't find it and headed back up.

  I went back into the bath house to report to Larry. "Three worms. All dead. I'm looking for the fourth. And there's a robot guarding the front door. I'm going to try and get that last Jeep working and get us all out of here."

  Larry nodded. He still couldn't talk, but he lifted one hand weakly and made a thumbs-up gesture.

  That single gesture meant the world to me.

  The pain in my leg had disappeared. I felt exhilarated. I felt powerful. It was as if I were riding a lightning bolt—I knew how to do this. My body moved across the ground and up the hill toward the nest in the main hall. I felt like I was flying. I felt giddy. I moved with ease and familiarity and even—joy. This was good—

  The second robot had detected nothing in the nest. I double-checked its orders and headed for the car pool.

  I couldn't do anything about the Jeep's suspension—but I could put the tires back on and maybe attach a trailer. I could put the passengers in the trailer. Maybe I could put one of the robots in the back of the Jeep. I'd need a map—

  Hell, if I could just get to a phone, I could have a chopper here in two hours.

  Maybe. If there were choppers available.

  The first thing to do was get the Jeep running. Did we have fuel? I checked the meters. Yes.

  I unslung the torch, put it where I could reach it easily, and went to work.

  It went quickly. I hadn't realized I knew so much about cars and tires. I guess a lot of it had sunk in by osmosis over the years—and probably the knowledge that there was large red worm with my name on it lurking somewhere in the woods had a profound effect on my mind's ability to focus on the issue at hand.

  I was just starting on the third wheel when I heard the noise.

  It sounded like a Jeep. Two Jeeps.

  I came down the hill in a staggering, stumbling run—still pulling the straps of the tank-harness around my shoulders—

  It was Duke!

  He was just climbing out of the lead Jeep. He moved slowly; he was staring at the robot. It was tracking him with its guns—it was watching the other men too. I recognized Hank, but the other three were strangers. Two of them were carrying torches and they were holding their weapons warily.

  They didn't know what had happened here. All they saw was that the whole place was a mess and the supplies at the bottom of the hill had been ransacked. And there was a Chtorran totem pole in the middle of their camp.

  They saw me and whirled—

  Oh, shit!

  I skidded to a stop, lifting my hands out and away from my sides.

  One of the men carrying a torch brought it around to point at me; the other was still tracking the robot. The robot looked very uncertain.

  For a heartbeat, we all stared at each other.

  "Duke—!" I called, "Tell them I'm not a renegade!"

  Duke looked startled; he hadn't expected to see me here. "Disarm the robot, son," he said dispassionately. I didn't like that tone of voice; it was dangerous.

  "Duke! It's me."

  "Easy, son—nobody's going to hurt you."

  "Come on, Duke! This is me! Jim!" I couldn't believe this. What was Duke thinking? How could he be so stupid?

  "Put the torch down, Jim—"

  What I wanted to do was throw a tantrum. But there was a man with a heavy-duty flamer pointed at me and a very nervous robot studying all of us. It hadn't yet made up its mind if these men were friends or foe. I had told it to respond to any direct attacks. It was waiting for something that looked like a direct attack. If only they'd let me tell it that we were all on the same side—only they weren't so sure of that.

  This was so goddamn stupid, I wanted to scream and yell and beat my fists on the ground. I wanted to grab them by their necks and shake them as hard as I could. I wanted to scream my rage into their stupid blank faces.

  What I did was exactly what they wanted me to do.

  "Don't anybody do anything stupid," I called. "I'm going to put my torch down." I moved as slowly as I could, shrugging out of the tank-harness and lowering it to the dirt. "Now, I'm reaching into my shirt pocket for the authority box—"

  "Hold it!" snapped the man with the torch pointed at me. "Boss—" He looked to Duke. "You can't let him disarm that thing. He could just as easily trigger it."

  Duke was staring hard at me. "He's not stupid." But he didn't look like he totally believed it.

  "Duke—I'm going to disarm the robot." I held up my left hand and arched my thumb and forefinger like pincers. "I'm going to take the control out of my pocket with my left hand. Very slowly."

  Very slowly, I began to ease the little box out of my pocket. It slipped out of my fingers, I was trembling so badly. I counted to three and began again. Finally I got it and lifted it high over my head. "I will now disarm the robot," I said.

  "Easy . . ." warned the man with the torch.

  "Believe me—" Holding the box high, so they could watch and see exactly what I was doing, I flipped the cover up off the white disarm button. I pressed the button.

  Nothing happened.

  The robot refused to disarm.

  I pressed the button a second time. A third.

  The man with the torch looked unimpressed.

  This was stupid. I could feel the sweat trickling down my forehead, down my sides.

  "Duke! You know me! Tell him I'm okay."

  Duke shook his head. "I don't know that. Disarm the robot, Jim."

  "I can't. You saw, I pressed the button. Nothing happened."

  "I'm real sorry about this, son—"

  The robot beeped.

  "Chtorrans detected," it said quietly, and swiveled its sensory turret. It swiveled, but it didn't lock.

  "I didn't do that!" I shouted. I was still holding the box.

  "Some of your friends?" asked the man with the torch.

  "I don't have any friends!" I snarled back. I was starting to feel really nasty.

  The sensory turret locked. It pointed down the road.

  Then it unlocked.

  It swiveled and locked again. It pointed up the hill.

  What the—?

  The two men with torches looked as confused as the robot.

  And then the worms came down. And up.

  Two from up the hill, one from down the road—

  Oh, my God.

  I'd assumed that the worms I'd burned before had been returning to their nest in the main hall. They weren't. They were strangers—or tourists—or visitors. There wasn't one worm in the nest up there! There were three! Or four!

  But why hadn't the robot stopped them?

  Oh, no.

  I'd disarmed the wrong robot.

  I'd grabbed the box in my shirt pocket, not the one on my belt. I'd grabbed the wrong control box.

  The worm coming up the hill was Big Daddy, looking for its three children—or mates, whatever they were. It was about to become very angry.

  The Marauder robot couldn't help because it had only been told to stop anything that tried to attack the bath house. It was waiting for new orders.

  And I couldn't pick up my torch, because there was a man pointing a flamer at me, ready to fire if I made one suspicious move.

  I realized it with startling clarity. We were going to die because of our own stupidity. This icy chill in the groin must be exactly what Custer had felt.

  That's when I got angry.

  I didn't mind dying for my own stupid mistakes—God knows I'd made more than my share—but I sure as hell wasn't going to be lunched for someone else's blind-headed idiocy.

  "Goddammit, you dumb fuckers!" I roared. "Burn those worms."

  I didn't wait to see if they did. I ducked and grabbed for my own torch, skidded downhill, and was already snapping off the safety—fired and spread the flame sideways across both of the downhill worms. Duke was staring at me, wide-eyed. I had to scatter sideways to avoid hitting him. The worms couldn't stop, they charged right into the flame and curled up screaming in fiery agony. The greasy smoke piled high into the air. They writhed across the ground, curling and uncurling, flopping and snapping like snakes or fish. They left a splattering trail of fire. Their flesh melted and ran—

  Something behind me exploded. I whirled—

  The robot had made up its mind who the enemy was and had fired a grenade; but the two men with the torches had already caught Big Daddy in withering cross fire. The grenade had exploded flaming pieces of worm all over the hill. They showered down around us, a cascade of burning embers and flesh.

  I unclipped the other authority box from my belt and began snapping new orders to the robot: "Watch out for worms. Burn on sight." Then I turned and headed back up the hill, hobbling.

  "Jim—!"

  "There's a nest in the main hall," I called back. I was already rearming the uphill robot. "There are two more worms in it!" I stopped long enough to look back at them. "Well? Aren't you coming?!!"

  They followed me up the hill.

  It turned out there were four worms in the nest. We caught the first two just as they were coming up out of the hole and we crisped them as neatly as if we'd known all along. The two worms that came up after them almost caught us by surprise, but they came out of the hole too soon; the robot hadn't been disarmed yet and we still had our torches charged. They surprised us, yes—but not fatally. At least, not fatally for us.

  That meant that the two worms coming down the hill had also been visitors. And that suggested that there might be two more worms still out in the brush somewhere. We'd have to set the robots to patrol.

  But something had been happening here—something that involved more than one nest of worms; at least ten worms total, and probably more. Even as the robot was burning the last worm, I was already wishing we hadn't had to. I wished we could have found out why three families of worms had taken over Camp Alpha Bravo.

  And then it was over, and the guy with the torch was looking at me with an embarrassed expression on his face. "Uh, I'm real sorry about that business down the hill—"

  I shook my head. "Not your fault. I'd have been just as suspicious." I strode down the hill past him, toward Duke. Duke was studying his shoes.

  "Duke?" I said. I was angry.

  He looked up. His eyes flickered across the pips on my collar. He hesitated, then held out his hand. "Nice work—Lieutenant."

  I punched him. Hard. Right in the face—and knocked him flying.

  "That's for not trusting me," I said.

  He sat up in the dirt, holding his bleeding nose. He looked surprised.

  So I crossed stiffly to him and offered him my hand.

  He yanked my arm, kicked my legs out from under me, and sent me sprawling.

  He didn't exactly beat the shit out of me; it wasn't necessary—but he clobbered me enough to prove his point. Youth and enthusiasm are never a match for age and treachery.

  Never mind. It was worth it.

  53

  The Stone Hits Bottom

  "I miss the dinosaurs."

  —SOLOMON SHORT

  Eventually, I wrote to Whitlaw.

  Not right away, though. It took a while before I could get access to a working terminal again; but as soon as I did I sent him a note. Ka-splash. Or maybe Klunk. But whatever the sound was, I felt I ought to report back.

  But Whitlaw never received it.

  At least, I don't know that he did.

  The next time I logged onto the system, instead of a Message Received acknowledgment, there was the briefest of notes: Account Inactive.

  A nice euphemism, that.

  I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised. There were a lot of inactive accounts these days. Over a hundred and fifty million. Nobody knew how many were really dead and how many were alive and just didn't care anymore.

  What the hell. Everybody's crazy these days—at least until they're dead. And after that, it doesn't matter anymore.

  Still, I had hoped—

  I had hoped that Whitlaw was still alive somewhere, still growling at some new group of students.

  Because, if he was, it would mean that everybody wouldn't have to be crazy forever.

  County Sherriff Diappears

  LAKE GRANBY VILLAGE, Colorado—County Sherriff Alice McMasters disappeared yesterday morning, while investigating reports of new Chtorran sigtings north of here.

  A spokesman for the Governor's office said that aerial robots have been sent into the area to scan for signs of life, but no additional search parties are planned

 

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