A Day for Damnation twatc-2

by David Gerrold

  "It's not part of the mission-"

  "But it's appropriate," I said. "It's what's needs to happen next. We need to prove we're safe-as a species."

  The button was silent.

  I chuckled a bunny under his chin. We giggled together and made funny growling noises. I batted him gently, and he rolled and somersaulted backward like a happy little croquet ball. He scampered back for more.

  I said to the button, "Come on, guys. I think, if a few more monkeys don't join us, it might be an insult to our guests."

  The button said, "Hold your shorts on, jasper. We're picking volunteers-"

  I stayed with the bunnies. I started talking to them, seeing if I could create the beginnings of a common language.

  "Jim-" I said, and pointed to myself. "Jim-"

  "Ch'ch'ch-" chittered one of the bunnies, and that was as close as we got. There simply was no interest here in exchanging concept-symbols.

  The bunnies were sitting up now, turning to look at the domes. I turned to look too.

  Six more apes were coming out to join us. I recognized Jerry Larson and Roy Barnes, and two of the observation team, though I didn't know their names. And Fletcher. All had stripped to their underwear.

  The bunnydogs welcomed them into the circle, touching the newcomers as curiously as they had touched me. One of them tugged at Larson's shorts, sniffing and even biting. Another reached up and touched Fletcher's breast. She laughed and squatted down so the creature could examine her close up. She examined it right back. There was no modesty here.

  I called to her, "They must be mammals-"

  She grinned and called back, "Don't bet on anything yet-" The bunnies circled around all of us, clustering and gobbling and petting and touching. I looked to the worms-they looked bored. I felt curiously exultant. This was it! The breakthrough! We didn't need to be at war-!

  I noticed that the bunnies were calming now, turning and also nolicing the worms.

  And then they began to-sing.

  It was in eerie sound, but high-pitched and sweet. No two of the little creatures were singing in unison, yet the effect of the whole crowd of them singing all at once was that of a chorus. Their voices blurred in a way that was distinctly otherworldly and oddly pleasant.

  I looked to Larson, to Fletcher, and to the others. Their eyes were bright with wonder. They were as enchanted as I was by this little miracle.

  "It's just like the herd!" I called.

  Fletcher laughed back, "I know-I can feel it!"

  Now, the bunnies began turning back and forth in little quick hops. They bleated as they bounced. They cooed and bubbled and chirruped at each other. It sounded like song, like a conversation, like a bubble of delighted laughter.

  I turned around in the middle of it all, turning to get a sense of the entire group. As I did, I noticed the bunnies picking up my motion. They were turning too. The gathering was a reflection of myself.

  I noticed the other monkeys, humans, turning too-all smiles and delight. A couple of them were humming lightly.

  We turned together. Individual bunnydogs circled to me, then swirled away. There seemed to be no pattern at all to their movements, and yet there was a sense of harmony and wholeness in this gathering. I could feel it enveloping me like a big warm fizzy bubble bath.

  It felt like home.

  The bunnies were moving out of the circle now-moving to the worms.

  They began climbing on the worms and patting them, grooming them, nuzzling them. Even the largest of the worms was covered with little pink shapes, patting and stroking at its dark purple fur. The fur seemed to shimmer with color as I watched; its stripes rippled and flowed along its sides. The movement was clear and distinct.

  I realized that the humans were being left alone in the circle. Were the bunnies abandoning us-?

  No-one of the bunnies had grabbed my hand and was stamping its feet impatiently. It tugged at my arm, and looked at me with its large cookie-button eyes. Its expression was expectant.

  I said to the other humans, "I think they want to introduce us to the worms-"

  "You go first-" called Barnes. He was grinning, but he also looked terrified. Fletcher shushed him.

  I let myself be tugged toward the edge of the circle.

  I looked to the worms. Most of them were preoccupied with their attendants. Were the bunnydogs grooming the worms? Or were the worms mothering the bunnydogs?

  What was happening here? Had the bunnydogs rode in on their worms like cowboys riding to a square dance? Or had the worms brought their bunnies out to play, like nannies in Central Park?

  I looked around the circle. Some of the bunnies were staring into the worms' great eyes. One of them tapped a worm on the side and it lowered a hand and lifted the bunny up before its face. Was it that simple? Eye contact?

  One of the worms was studying me now. It was a medium-sized creature, only three meters long. Its fur was bright red, striped with shades of pink and purple. Its giant black eyes-were focused right on me.

  The worm goggled its eyes sideways, the inevitable expression of curiosity. Those eyes must have been a third of a meter across. They were hypnotic.

  I took a step toward the worm. And another.

  The worm straightened its gaze. It studied me head-on. It shifted its arms.

  I took another step toward it, and another. There were less than three meters between us now.

  I stood before the worm and looked deeply into its eyes. The creature was fantastic.

  For just a moment, I felt as if I could hear its thoughts. It blinked. Sput-phwut.

  How odd. I felt perfectly safe looking into its gaze like this. I lifted my arms and spread my hands out before me.

  The worm unfolded its arms. They were jointed like wings and attached to the sides of the bony brain case behind the eyes. The arms came over the creature's eyes and then downward. I was reminded of a scorpion's tail.

  The worm opened its hands toward me. It was echoing my gesture.

  "It's intelligent," I said. "I don't know how I know, but I know. It's intelligent. Too intelligent to be just a domestic creature. . . ." I took a step forward, my hands still out.

  The worm hunched toward me.

  Our fingers touched. The worm took my hand in its claw and turned my hand this way and that, studying it. It dipped its eyes close, refocusing. It saw me studying the way its eyestalks moved and peered into my face. Then it turned its attention back to my hand.

  When it finished, it let go of my hand, but it left its claw in front of me. It was offering itself for mutual inspection. I took the claw in my hands and lifted it up to my face. I turned it over, back and forth, and studied it as the worm had studied mine. There were three digits, all opposed. There were three joints to each digit. I moved the fingers around. The worm could use any of its digits as a thumb opposed to the other two. Convenient.

  I let go of the worm's hand. I met its eyes again and said, "Thank you."

  The worm dipped its eyes-that gesture, it was an acknowledgment of some kind-and made a burping sound. "Ctrlp?"

  "You're welcome."

  The worm extended both its hands now and touched my shoulders. I flinched at the contact-but I looked into the creature's eyes again. "It's all right. Go ahead."

  The worm began patting me, stroking me, and touching me as the bunnydogs had done. It was fascinated with my body-as the bunnydogs had been.

  The worm's fingers touched my transceiver curiously. It lifted the chain, then let it drop. It looked at me as if wondering why I was wearing such an obvious piece of technology. It lowered its fingers to my loincloth and tugged at that. I wondered if I should take it off-but the worm was already ahead of me. It snapped the cord with its claw and dropped the loincloth carelessly to the ground. It blinked curiously at my genitals, but made no move to touch me there. It turned me around to examine my back.

  Around me, I saw that the other worms were watching us. So were the other humans; they remained scattered across the o
therwise empty circle. But the bunnydogs had completely forgotten about us, they were so engrossed in grooming the worms. The activity was almost sexual. Many of the bunnies had climbed on top of the big red monsters. Two of the bunnies even appeared to be ... copulating? No. I must have been misreading the behavior. The air was cold on my body. I could feel the worm poking at my buttocks. I said, "It feels like a medical inspection-"

  Barnes giggled nervously. "It looks like a meat inspection. My uncle used to be in livestock and-"

  Fletcher jabbed him sharply in the ribs. "Don't bring that into this circle."

  Abruptly, the worm grabbed one of my feet and yanked, lifting me upside down. I managed to holler, "Hey-!" Then the worm goggled its eyes sideways at me as if to ask, "Yes?" And then it resumed studying my foot with its giant eyes. It poked and stroked, and once even drew one dark finger across the soft flesh of my arch. I couldn't help it, I started giggling.

  The worm grabbed one of my hands and lifted it up beside my foot. It was comparing.

  "It's intelligent! It has to be!" I was still hanging upside down. "Do you see what it's doing?"

  Abruptly, the worm let go of me. I tumbled back to the grass. I climbed back to my feet, grinning. "You ought to ask first," I said to the worm.

  It blinked at me.

  I said, "I know this doesn't make sense, but I'm actually beginning to feel ... friendly... toward these creatures."

  The worm lifted its arms high then. A stretch? Its mouth opened in front of me. I squatted to my knees and peered in. Huge. Dark. And it smelled awful.

  But I was grinning. I was the first human being on the planet to look into a worm's mouth without being pushed. I was actually feeling cocky-

  -that's what saved my life.

  I was turning around to look back toward the domes, I was about to say something stupid, when one of the bunnydogs let out a yelp-a yelp cut suddenly short.

  I turned and saw--

  One of the worms just crunching a bunny into its mouth.

  I turned back toward the worm I'd been with-it was just rising up into an attack position

  I stabbed a finger at it and commanded, "No!" I didn't know what I was doing, I just bellowed, "That's very bad manners!" The worm hesitated.

  "Down!" I shouted. And pointed. "Down!" The worm came down.

  It looked confused.

  I started backing away. "Get ready to scramble!" I said quietly. I glanced behind me. Barnes had dropped into a karate positiona cat stance. The others were backing away slowly. Fletcher's eyes were wide. She looked ready to bolt. "Slowly ... !" I commanded. "Don't break... !"

  The worm started to follow me. It started to flow after me. I pointed at it and said, "No! Stay!"

  It worked. And then-another bunnydog yelped. Another worm was feeding.

  And then another, and another-the air was suddenly filled with yelping!

  The worm moved

  I broke sideways-I ran for Fletcher, leaping and knocking her flat to the grass.

  Something purple chirruped behind us. Something roared close over our heads and exploded! The blast blew us sideways-we bounced against a furry wall-Fletcher gasped and started screaming! I rolled her over on her belly, rolled on top of her--

  More explosions-the blast slammed into us-a wall of heatLarson was screaming-Barnes was shrieking-

  There were flames--

  -and pulled Fletcher to her feet and ran, scrambling toward the chopper. A worm was burning. Something small and pink and flaming rocketed past us. Another worm was skidding, turning toward us

  The dome was already exploding off the chopper-the door was open-a man was on the ground before it, firing past us! I saw the streaks of incendiary bullets.

  The door was open. We pounded up into it-past the man with the rifle-he gasped as something grabbed him-and then we were airborne-the open door looked down on Hell-backside.

  FIFTY-EIGHT

  I WENT to see Duke.

  He looked better. And he looked worse. The bitterness was obvious now. When I sat down next to his bed, he turned his head away from me.

  I said, "I won't stay long. I came to deliver something." He still didn't look at me.

  I waited till the nurse was out of the room. I said, "I don't know how you're going to hide it Duke, or where-but... well, here." I slipped the grenade into his hand. His one remaining hand. The grenade was small but lethal. It would do the job.

  Duke didn't move. The grenade sat in his hand like a rock. Had I made a mistake? Had I reminded him again of his own fear?

  Perhaps I should just go. Duke turned his head.

  The hand with the grenade lifted up as if it had a life of its own. It carried the grenade painfully upward to where Duke's eyes could focus on it. They blinked and cleared and looked at the grenade dispassionately. The hand turned the grenade over and over. The thumb found the safety catch.

  Duke's mouth opened. The hand brought the grenade forward so he could grab the ring with his teeth. Was he going to detonate it now?!

  No. He wasn't. He let go of the ring. He was just testing the feel of it. He looked at the grenade again, and there was just the slightest hint of a smile on his face.

  And then the hand holding the grenade disappeared beneath the covers.

  Duke still hadn't looked at me. Still hadn't met my eyes.

  I waited, but he turned his head away again, toward the wall. Not even a thank you.

  It was all right. He knew. There was no better way. After a while, I got up and left.

  That was the last time that I saw Duke.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  DAVID GERROLD began his science fiction career in 1967, as a writer for Star Trek. His first sale was the episode entitled "The Trouble with Tribbles," one of the most popular episodes in the show's history. Gerrold later wrote two nonfiction books about Star Trek: The World of Star Trek, the first in-depth analysis of the show, and The Trouble with Tribbles, in which he shared his personal experiences with the series. Gerrold has since written many other TV scripts, including episodes of Logan's Run, Land of the Lost, and the Star Trek animated TV series. He has served as story editor for Land of the Lost and Buck Rogers.

  Gerrold is also a well-established science fiction novelist. His bestknown works are When Harlie Was One and The Man Who Folded Himself, both of which were nominated for the Hugo and Nebula awards. He's published eight other novels, five anthologies, and a short story collection. In 1979, he won the Skylark Award for imaginative fiction.

  David Gerrold is forty years old and lives in Los Angeles with three peculiar dogs, two and a half cats, a computer with delusions of sentience, and a butterscotch convertible. Gerrold is a skilled programmer and contributes occasionally to Creative Computing, Infoworld, and other home-computing periodicals. He also writes a monthly column on science fiction for Starlog magazine.

  Gerrold is currently at work on Book Three of The War Against the Chtorr: A Rage for Revenge.

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