A Day for Damnation twatc-2

by David Gerrold

  And then a second worm, and a third-

  There were more bunnydogs riding on their backs.

  Lizard lifted her camera and started shooting. "Well, you got the worms right," she said, "but you missed the time."

  I barely heard her. The worms were still pouring over the dunes. "Win one, lose one," I gulped.

  Lizard was scanning the group with her camera. "I see six, seven, eight... no, make that ten, eleven-urk, fourteen worms." They were all different sizes. The smallest was no bigger than a pony. The largest was the size of a bus. They swiveled their big black hand-puppet eyes at us, cocked them back and forth, up and down, locked them into place, and stared at the chopper. If they had expressions, they were unreadable.

  We could see the coloring of the worms vividly. They were bright red and orange, striped with purple and all over frosted with pink powder. They left trails of glittering dust in the air. They sparkled as if they were made out of magic.

  "I hate to say it," whispered Lizard, "-but they're beautiful." She was right. As horrifying as the worms were, they were also fascinating. Each worm was a gaudy calliope of color. Their stripes had the confusing effect of seeming to shift even as we watched. If there was a pattern to the markings, I couldn't tell.

  Despite the dust, this was the clearest and closest view of worms in the wild we'd had yet.

  I yelped and leapt for the peace-pipe. I fumbled a rocket into it, then looked out the window again.

  The worm was peering in at me.

  I jumped backward, almost tripping, slamming into the opposite wall. I braced myself and aimed the rocket-launcher straight ahead. Something tapped at the door. It sounded exactly like a knock. "Don't answer it..." squeaked Lizard.

  The tapping continued for a long... long moment. And then it stopped abruptly.

  I could feel my heart beating like a jackhammer- The silence was terrifying!

  Abruptly, the door squeaked and groaned. The worm was trying to work the latch! It didn't rattle. The shelterfoam held. And then silence.

  "What's it doing-?" I whispered.

  "It's backing away from the door-"

  I jumped for the window. She was right. The worm was retreating a meter at a time. It was still studying the chopper door curiously. And then it-scratched itself right between the eyes. It looked ... puzzled!

  "Are you getting all this?"

  "Uh huh-I don't believe it either. McCarthy! Look at the other one!"

  The second worm to cuddle against the dead one had lifted its eyes to study the door now. It shifted its glance to the worm that was backing away-as if considering. Then it looked to the door again and apparently made a decision. It slid off toward the nose of the chopper.

  Several of the other worms approached the dead one now. They looked like they were sniffing and inspecting it, but none of them moved up alongside it. "Nobody else wants to cuddle... ?" I guessed.

  "Would you?" Lizard asked. She dropped out of the turret. "Come on! Something's happening up front."

  The worms were forming themselves into groups. There were Iwo groups of four and two groups of three. The bunnydogs looked like they were directing them, but I wasn't sure. I never listened to the person guiding me into a parking place either, why should a worm? The creatures were settling down quickly.

  "Now what are they doing-?" Lizard wondered.

  The monsters were shaped like stubby cigars, but with a bulge at the front like the nose of an old Boeing 747. That was the brain case, a thick shell of bone shielding the creature's gray matter (or whatever color it was-more likely purple). The monster's arms were anchored here. Mostly the worms kept their peculiarly doublejointed arms folded flat against the brain case, reaching up and over the eyes only to grab or hold something. Or someone.

  The creatures' eyes rose up just in front of the brain case. The two eyes moved independently of each other, as if they were mounted on separate swivels, but both organs were enclosed in the same rubbery bag of skin.

  At the very front of the creature was the mouth.

  When it was closed, it looked like a sphincter; but when it was open, it was hideous-it was a maw, a grinding hole, a pit. Nothing godly was responsible for this beast. No, Lizard was wrong. The worm was not a beautiful creature. The mouth spoiled it.

  The worms were moving around the chopper now, inspecting it, looking at it sideways, but always keeping a cautious distanceat least three lengths away. Several of them began moving toward the rear

  "Oh, my God-the dead worm!"

  Lizard followed me back-I leapt over Duke toward the weaponbay, she climbed into the turret-

  "They've found it! McCarthy, look at this!"

  I grabbed the box of rockets and scrambled back-I shoved my face up to the accidental window. Three large worms were inspecting the body of the dead one. The bunnydogs moved to keep out of their way.

  One of the worms slid around then, bringing itself directly alongside the body. It rolled up to it as if it were ... cuddling? That didn't make sense. Another worm was doing the same thing on the opposite side.

  "What are they doing-?" Lizard called quietly.

  "I don't know. I've never seen this before. Are you still carrying your camera?"

  "Yeah. I'm getting it!"

  Abruptly, one of the worms lifted its eyes and looked straight at me. It was studying the door-the same door its colleague had been trying to open when we'd killed it.

  The worm slid forward

  "I don't know," I whispered back. "Always before, we've seen worms only in groups of three or four. We've assumed those were family groups. We've never had a chance to observe a really large gathering." My voice cracked on the next-to-last word. I swallowed hard.

  Lizard looked over at me. "How are you doing?"

  "You mean, am I scared?"

  "Yeah."

  "I'm petrified. How about you?"

  She said it matter-of-factly: "I guess you could say I'm handling it as well as can be expected."

  I heard the quaver. I reached over and touched her hand. "Under the circumstances, there's not a hell of a lot of other options." She squeezed my hand in hers-almost a little too hard. Then she let go quickly, as if she were embarrassed at having admitted her emotion.

  I covered my own reaction by picking up the Pentax again. When in doubt, take care of business. I popped the clip and dropped the memory cassette into my lap. I reached down for a new one and snapped it into place.

  I'd filled eighty gigabytes of memory with two hours of highresolution video. No matter what else happened, what we'd photographed here tonight would make an incredible difference to the war effort. We'd seen things that no other human being had ever observed-and we'd made a record of them.

  I expected the next hour to be even more interesting. If we survived.

  That thought hovered oddly.

  I knew that we were very close to death here-and it didn't matter.

  I realized I couldn't be scared any more. I'd moved beyond fear. I'd passed into a kind of free-floating euphoria. It was the strangest feeling-I'd used up all my fear. All that was left was interest. I supposed I'd run out of adrenaline-that was probably the medical explanation; but it felt like the freedom of madness.

  And I didn't mind.

  It was all right to be crazy. It was the best thing to be. I didn't have to be responsible any more. I was tired of being responsible-I floated. I photographed the Chtorran worms, and floated above the land of fear.

  The bunnydogs were gathering in front of the worm groups now. They were absolutely unafraid of the worms. The two species were obviously in partnership.

  The question was ... which one was the dominant partner? The four groups of worms were arranged in a large arc in front of the chopper. Now, several of the bunnydogs hopped into the focus of that space and began stamping out a large circle, an arena several meters across. A cloud of pink dust rose around them as they moved. It glittered and sparkled in the air around them. They didn't act as if they noti
ced. They rabbit-thumped their big paddlefeet and pounded the powder into a hard-packed surface. They moved around and around the circle, spiraling out and then in again.

  There were at least a dozen of them, and they went about their task with an almost grim determination. 'They were little round pink warriors trying to invent a war dance. As they continued, more and more of the bunnydogs entered the circle and joined the task-until all of them were there, determinedly stamping out an arena.

  I glanced to the worms. They were paying very close attention to what was happening here. One by one, they were shifting to face forward. They moved up to the very edge of the circle, but did not enter it. Instead, they settled into positions of quiet readiness. They looked like giant red meat loafs; they folded their arms back and swiveled their eyes forward, and focused their attention on the stubby little bunnies in the circle.

  They were waiting on the bunnydogs.

  They were a monstrous tableau. Their large black eyes blinked rapidly against the spreading dust in the air. They watched dispassionately. If they had expressions, they were impossible to read.

  Very quickly, the bunnydogs finished preparing their arena and stopped. As each one finished, he/she/it? moved to the center of the circle and waited. Finally, they were all of them gathered silently in the center in a loose jumble. For a moment, nothing liappened. The bunnydogs were still. The worms might have been statues. The dust hung in the air-a silent pink haze. Everything was frozen.

  "Now, what-?"

  "Shhh."

  We waited-

  The first movements were imperceptible. We saw the dust, not the motion-it rose around the bunnydogs in a fresh pink cloud. They were stamping their feet again-but this time it had a ritual quality. They were trembling. They were shivering and shuddering. And finally, they were moving-all as one now-turning slowly around and around among themselves.

  The cluster began to expand. Still stamping, still turning, they began to move outward toward the edges of their circle; at the same time they began to expand the size of their movements. They brought their arms out from their bodies. They lifted their hands over their heads. They opened their mouths wide and a shrill keening rose from their throats.

  They had the sweetest voices.

  The keening went on and on-and then suddenly, one of the bunnydogs let loose a rapid, high-pitched series of yelps. The other bunnies froze for just an instant and

  -then began to dance.

  It was a wild and frenzied performance-an explosion of bright pink energy. The bunnydogs stamped the ground beneath their feet as hard as they could. The dust rose in thick billowing explosions, sparkling and churning around them. The bunnies whirled and pounded, jumped and bounced. They chittered and shrieked and whooped.

  They flung their arms out wide and leapt into the air, screaming like sirens-they bounced like popcorn. Where one came down, five more leapt up. It was a chain reaction of giggling joyous energy. We could hear them growling like teddy bears and yelping like Indians.

  There was no pattern to it that we could see. The dance was a celebration, an exuberant demonstration of enthusiasm and delight. I couldn't help myself, I could feel the grin spreading across my face. I glanced over at Lizard and she was smiling too. The bunnies were funny.

  By now, they must have been out of control. They caromed off each other like ping-pong balls in a wind tunnel. The bunnies were shuddering and shaking and waggling their fat little butts like ecstatic puppies. I wanted to run out there and join them. I wondered if Lizard was feeling the same way. I glanced over at her.

  "It's marvelous!" she said. "But what does it mean?"

  "It looks like a wraggle."

  "A-what?"

  "A dance. A communication dance. That's how bees tell other bees where to find the tastiest flowers. Maybe that's what's happening here. Maybe this is how you control or communicate with worms-by dancing. Dr. Fletcher is going to want to see this."

  But-

  No, it didn't make sense.

  This dance couldn't be just for the fun of it-not here. Not now. Now with all these worms watching.

  There was something else going on here, something I couldn't even begin to understand-and I knew I should.

  It felt too familiar.

  But the connection refused to complete-it hovered annoyingly beyond the edge of recognition. I could feel the frustration growing like a knot in my chest.

  The bunnydogs were whirling now, not leaping. They twirled and spun like little fat dervishes-like plump pink pigs. They bumped into each other, fell into the dust, sputtering and gobbling, then bounced back up into the smoke and kept on twirling. They looked like chipmunks trying to describe a tornado.

  A communication dance. And then I realized-"Oh my God."

  "What-?"

  "I've seen this before," I said.

  "What!"

  I added quickly, "Not exactly this, but something enough like it-" I swallowed hard. "In the herd. In San Francisco. Dr. Fletcher took me. The herd members do a kind of-dance. It looks like this." I shook my head. "I don't know. Maybe it's a coincidence."

  "Why does the herd dance?" Lizard asked.

  "Dr. Fletcher thinks-that it has something to do with communication. Nonverbal communication."

  Lizard didn't reply immediately. She was studying the bunnydogs again. They were still bouncing. Their energy seemed inexhaustible.

  "How do you decode it?" she asked. "I don't know. I'm not a worm."

  "You think the dance is for the worms?"

  "Who else? Maybe they're telling the worms about us, about what they saw when they peeked in the windows. I don't know. Maybe-" I hesitated, then added, "I don't want to worry you with this thought, but-"

  "Worry me," she said.

  "Well-obviously, there's some kind of partnership here. And uh, it seems pretty obvious to me-by the shape of their muzzlesthat the bunnydogs are meat-eaters, or at least, omnivorous. Their mouths look like they're good for sucking too. Maybe they use the worms to kill for them. Maybe they're telling them right now that this is a picnic basket."

  "Right," said Lizard. "Listen, if you have any more thoughts like that... you don't have to worry me."

  Outside, the frenzy was ebbing now. The dance was slowing. One by one, the bunnies whirled into the center and collapsed exhaustedly into the dust. They fell on one another, rolling and tumbling. The dance was deflating into a big pile of pink fur. There was silence. The ever-present pink dust hung in the air.

  "Now what?" Lizard wondered.

  I didn't answer.

  The worms had watched the entire dance without reaction. Now, they slowly turned their eyes toward each other. They almost looked ... uncertain-as if they were waiting for the emperor's reaction before they allowed their own

  Only ... which one was the emperor?

  One by one, the worms were turning their attention toward the largest-and most patterned-worm in the group. It had narrowed the apertures of its eyes; it looked like it was brooding thoughtfully. Caesar Augustus? Or Caligula?

  Abruptly, its eyes bounced open. And then it moved.

  Ponderously, majestically, it flowed forward. Straight toward us. And then all the worms flowed forward.

  They surrounded the chopper-and began to examine it. All fourteen of them. They scratched and tapped and thumped the hull of the ship.

  The chopper pitched and bumped ominously.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  LIZARD WAS on the radio immediately, "Houston! We've got a problem!"

  Colonel Danny Anderson replied immediately, "Go ahead, ELDAVO."

  "We've got worms. More than a dozen of 'em-" Lizard screamed, "-and they're reading the label on this package. Canned people!" She yelped again as something rocked the chopper.

  I scrambled out of my seat and crawled back looking for the rocket launcher or the freeze gun. Maybe I could hold them off until the blimp arrived.

  There were scrabbling sounds at the door. Something was scraping across the
roof The chopper bumped as if something else were pushing it from behind. It lurched so hard I stumbled against the wall.

  Duke was moaning! He was waving his arms, trying to get up. He was mumbling and reaching- "Torsh-whah mah torsh?" A pair of giant black eyes was peering in at him through the left side bubble.

  I didn't think. I grabbed the shelterfoam gun and sprayed the window. Did the worm look surprised? Did it back away? I didn't see. I turned and sprayed the other bubble.

  I crawled over to Duke, pushing him back down onto the deck. "Stay still," I commanded.

  "Huh-? Whuh-?"

  "Stay still! That's an order, Captain!"

  "Yessuhm-" And he lapsed back into unconsciousness.

  As I scrambled back to Lizard, she tossed me a sidewise glance. "Gave yourself a little promotion, huh?"

  "So court-martial me. Where's the goddamn blimp?" I looked at the clock. "They're overdue."

  "I don't know-"

  "We're eight minutes away," boomed Colonel Anderson's voice from the radio. "Keep your pants on."

  "Why-?" I snapped back. "Will that taste better to the worms?"

  "Listen up, Lieutenant!" Colonel Anderson had his father's same angry tone. "Anchoring a blimp is tricky. How you feel about it is irrelevant. It's going to take the same amount of time whether you're calm and rational or panicky and screaming. So it's up to you-how do you want to play it?"

  Something in the rear of the chopper creaked ominously. It sounded like a Kevlar strut crackling under pressure. Something else went thump against the door. The door bulged. A piece of shelterfoam spronged off and ricocheted off the opposite wall.

  I turned back to the radio. "That's real reasonable, Colonel, sir-but you don't have several tons of worm trying to climb into your ship. We do."

  "I'm aware of your problem, Lieutenant. But we don't have any more time to talk about it. You'll have to have your little hissy-fit after we pick you up."

  A worm was staring at us through the windshield-but it didn't push through. It just goggled its eyes and blinked. Sput-phwut. A second worm slid up beside it.

  I opened my mouth to reply to Colonel Anderson-and then shut it. I realized how stupid I was about to be. I was going to argue for my right to be terrified and upset. The worms were still only inspecting us. If they'd wanted to come in, they would have. Time enough to scream then. "Go ahead," I gulped.