On the Planet of Zombie Vampires

by Harry Harrison

  "Are you kidding?" Tootsie said. "They're monsters. Chingers are blood-thirsty killing machines. They eat babies for breakfast. Raw. You going soft on us?"

  "I just thought maybe we ought to try to understand them," said Bill. "You know, open a meaningful dialogue or something."

  "Only thing I open their stinking lizard bellies," snarled Bruiser. "Only good Chinger is dead Chinger."

  "Have you ever met one face-to-face?" Bill suggested hesitantly. "It's possible they're not as mean as we think."

  "I don't have to talk to them to know they're nothing but bad news," said Uhuru. "Killing them from long distance is good enough for me. Hit 'em before they hit you, I always say."

  "I learned all I want to know about them in the training films," said Tootsie. "Vermin like that ought to be exterminated."

  Bill sighed. It was clear the propaganda machine had done its work brainwashing the crew. He could hardly blame them, though, having thought the same way before he actually met one. Maybe he still did.

  They labored on under the burning lights until one after another they moaned and dropped exhausted. "Time for a break," Bill said. "Take ten."

  He needed a break himself. A stack of fertilizer sacks in the far corner made a shaded area that looked remarkably cozy. Bill stumbled over and sighed as he slumped into the relative coolth. His eyes closed, sleep descended — and something hot and heavy clutched him.

  "Glumph!" he mumbled as something wet and burning sealed his mouth. He struggled free and scrambled back, looking up to see an angry Rambette standing over him.

  "You don't like to be kissed, hmm? Maybe you don't like girls."

  "Sure I like girls. But it happened so quick —"

  "No need to lie!" she whimpered, sitting beside him with a clash of knives. "You don't think I'm feminine, that's it. Just one more warrior girl good only for battle. Well, it wasn't always like that. I was not always as you see me. Oh, things would have been different if it hadn't been for the bats."

  "Bats?" Bill stuttered, batting his own eyes in confusion.

  "Yes. If you let me hold your hand I'll tell you —

  THE BATRIDER'S TALE

  Ram-Bette set the gold-and-purple platinum band at her neck and slipped on her golden bracelets. Oh, this was to be a wondrous day when she and the other girls in Virgins Dorm Zash in the village of Smoosh on the shores of the Great Orgonne Sea — incidentally on the planet Ishus — at last had their Coming Out Party. After this day she would no longer be a simple simpering girl but a full-fledged and proud Ishian. Oh, what a wondrous wakening.

  "Tarry not, silly ones," ordered Drekk, suspiciously coy for one of her age and mien. "The ceremony awaits in the Great Hall."

  They all sallied forth, trying not to giggle, and succeeding until Ram-Bam tripped over the feeble legs of a male who was floundering to get out of their way. This was too funny, and giggling turned to laughter until Drekk sniffed with offended dignity and they grew silent.

  Oh, the Great Hall was as they had never seen it before! Lambent flame flickered from gilt sconces on the wall, reflected from the diamond eyes of the great statue of Dingg-Bat that filled the end of the majestic Hall.

  "Silence, O Daughters of Smoosh," Drekk called out in command, and they were silent as the Elder Mothers filed forward and stood before them. "Virgins of Dorm Zash, today your destinies will be fulfilled. Today you will Come Out of Virginhood into full proud Status. In our fair language, as you all well know, Ram means mother so thus all your names begin with Ram, followed of course by your dear mother's name, separated of course by a hyphen, and on this most Sacred and Important Day we will take your hyphens away. You will be dehyphenized! Your new names will signify your new status. Some of you will become Noble Mothers to reluctantly but boldly mate with the feeble males of our race. Others with green fingers and dirt under their nails will become Farmerettes to grow the vital crops that sustain us. Others..."

  Ram-Bette, soon to become Rambette when she was dehyphenized, wanted to listen to every silver word — but was distracted. There was a strange and high-pitched sound that drew her attention, caused her to turn and gaze up into the darkness of the Great Hall above. Drekk caught the movement and her eyes widened and she gasped with pleasure.

  "Ram-Bette, soon to be Rambette, step forward nobly and face your sister virgins. You have been chosen! Stand here, Dear One — do not be afraid, for yours is the noblest role of all in Smoosh. Because your voice has not changed like the others and is still high and squeaky. Because you have sort of a pin head with small ears and eardrums. Because of that, you and you alone heard the bat that was admitted to this Great Hall as a test. Only you of all who dwell in Dorm Zash will become that savior of us all — a Batrider."

  The Ceremony was tragic, turgid, illuminating, and fulfilling. Afterwards, when all the others had gone, Rambette stood before Drekk, under the brooding statue of Dingg-Bat, and Swore the Oath of Fealty, drank the Wine of Dingg, which made her head swim in giddy circles, then and only then, was she told the Secret of Secrets.

  "I have sealed the Entrance Portal and put out the Do Not Disturb sign," Drekk intoned. "Now the Secret of Secrets can be revealed. This village of Smoosh has not been founded on the shores of the Great Orgonne Sea by chance. You must understand that Ishus is a watery planet and covered with a Great Ocean. Lo, many, many parsecs ago our ancestors settled this land, coming here from across the Sea of Space, we know not how. All was peaceful, or so it was written, for many golden years. But then the Bad Years came.

  "Strange chemicals leaking from the planet's core were activated by strange radiation from the sun. These caused gene changes, or so our Wise Ones say, for I myself know naught of such mysteries. The X chromosome of the males was stunted and crunched, which is why all men are stunted and crunched and die young and are worthless except for their single function of which I shall tell you anon. The Y chromosome of the female was made radiant by the radiation, which is why we are so big and radiant. But — alas! — there was a hideous mutation and the muscular and grim Z chromosome split from the other two. Those who possess the Z chromosome are muscular and grim and women — but with a difference. The Sacred Diagram of the Mendelian Triangle demonstrates this. When X and Z cross there is dominant and recessive and since women are dominant more women are born, and of course a few feeble men, which is all we need. But a Z chromosome is dominant and when these cross only women with Z chromosomes are born. Do you understand the significance of this?"

  Rambette, who had been listening in stupefied awe, had not an inkling of what Drekk was talking about. She gurgled dashingly, shook her head, then nodded.

  "I know it is difficult," Drekk intoned. "But in time you will learn all. Suffice to say now that only females with Z chromosomes are born of women with Z chromosomes. And in this fact lies the unhappy history of our fair world. It is written that there was a Battle of the Sexes between those of the Y and those of the Z. It was fierce and deadly and in the end the Outsiders, as those with the Z chromosome came to be called, were driven from this land, angry and manless, doomed to die away at last since none were born to replace them.

  "But, oh, the muscular grim Outsiders also had an Unholy intelligence. Driven though they were into the Great Swamps they persevered. With great ingenuity they felled trees and bound them with vines until they constructed a Great Seagoing Raft. They built an earthen dike around the edge of this raft to prevent the waves from washing over and swamping it, and launched it into the sea, and thus escaped certain death at our hands. Nor does the story end there! The currents in the ocean are such that although this Dikeworld circles far from land, every twenty years it is pushed back ashore. Then hideous battle is joined as we fight to hold onto our feeble men, and these battling warriors fight to steal them from us. For endless years we lost these battles. Many of our men were stolen. The Outsiders prospered whilst our numbers waned. Then the first Giant Bats were found in caverns by the sea. Girls like you — with high-pitched voices
and keen hearing — were trained to ride those bats in battle. Thus were the Batriders born!"

  Rambette stopped the story when she felt Bill pull his hand from hers.

  "Time to work," he said. "Break's over. You can tell me the rest of the story later."

  "Story!" she frothed. "Here I am revealing my true nature, my secrets — and you say story!" Sharp knives were suddenly in her hands, instant death in her eyes.

  "I didn't mean that!" Bill squealed. "I meant we should be working, but what you have told me is so important that I want to hear more."

  "That's better." The knives vanished. "I will tell you all, in greatest detail, when we are alone again. Tell you of the years of Battraining, learning to speak to those great hairy, tick-ridden creatures. Learning how to heal their wounds, comfort their young. How to hang upside down when mounting them. Then, oh how we fought, flapping and squeaking into battle. The red bats were vampire bats and were trained to swoop down and suck the blood of the Outsiders. The black bats were carnivorous and flapped furiously into battle, snatching dismembered arms out of the air when their Batgirl riders hacked them off with swords. But the most feared of all were the green bats, terrifying dive bombers. Those I rode proudly. Before the attack they would be fed on Tingleberries, great fruit filled with giant seeds. Then I would fly to the attack, holding a berry on a pole out ahead of my bat. Once over the enemy I would let the bat eat the berry. Bats' digestive systems are constructed so that when a bat eats fruit its sphincters open to make room. The old seeds are ejected and fall with killing force. My poo-bomber helped us win the war. But the enemy always managed to steal some of our men. Always more were born to carry on their race. Until the spaceship came."

  "Spaceship?"

  "Yes, an Imperial Scoutship. Bringing both good news to my race and bad news to me. They detected our settlement and what appeared to be an offshore island. They landed on it and Dikeworld sank and was no more. The Scoutship lifted off and landed on the beach. I was the closest one when the port opened. And there was a man — I mean a Man! After the puny, crummy men on my world this broad-shouldered Trooper made me swoon with anticipation. He approached me and smiled. I simpered in return. He reached into his trousers and took something out.

  "'Do you know what this is?' he asked in a deep-timbered voice.

  "'I — I think I do,' I quavered.

  "'Do you want to hold it?'

  "'Oh yes!' I said stupidly. I took the fountain pen, thinking it was a present. Oh, how young and foolish I was! Under his guidance I wrote SWAK, sealed with a kiss in our language, and made a big X on the paper. Only when he had explained to the other Troopers who emerged from the craft that I had just enlisted did I realize how he had betrayed me. In a fit of temper I killed him on the spot, and the Troopers were more than happy to help me bury a Recruiting Sergeant. But — alas! — the piece of paper I had signed was found by an officer who found me — and that is why you find me here. And you do find me attractive, don't you Bill?..."

  "Bill — where are you?" Christianson called out. "I see you. I want you, all of you, over here. At ease, troops." Christianson had arrived with the android, Caine. Everybody ignored him. The only thing Christianson had going for him was that he had the captain's ear. Which did them no good at all.

  "I'm afraid I have bad news, Bill," droned Caine sadistically.

  "All we have is bad news! We're getting fried by these lights while we break our backs picking bugs." Bill privately thought that the android had blown a valve somewhere, but didn't dare say it out loud. "It can't get any worse than this."

  "Ahh, but I'm afraid it does," Caine enthused.

  "Give it us straight," Bruiser growled throatily.

  "They made a mistake back at the supply station."

  "That whole supply station was a mistake," muttered Bill, wishing he had never set foot in the place.

  "A serious mistake," said Caine, looking as sorrowful as it was possible for an android to look. "You know about the auxiliary water tanks, right?"

  "The ones to water these beds?" asked Bill. He tried not to look superior as he acted superior. "Sure. There are ten auxiliary tanks aboard ship for the vegetables. They're Class AAA tanks, double-walled and triple-insulated, each holding two thousand five hundred gallons of water."

  Bill was proud of the fact that he had read the ship's manual from cover to cover. Of course, it was the only thing to read besides gardening books on the entire ship, not counting the maso-sadistic porno comic magazines that Bruiser kept hidden under his bunk.

  "You are correct that there are ten tanks," said Caine. "But there is more to it than that. An hour ago, having depleted Tank One, I switched to Tank Two. It was then that I discovered that the tank in question had been mistakenly filled at the supply station with olive oil rather than water."

  "Olive oil?" said Bill.

  "And not a very good grade, I'm afraid," said Caine. "At least a third or fourth pressing. In addition, it appears to be rancid."

  "That sounds like the work of Commander Cook," said Tootsie, standing up and stretching her back. "If he's got a surplus, he ships it out any way he can."

  "So we dump it or eat fried okra for a while," said Bill. "Big deal."

  "Big deal is, unfortunately, correct," said Caine. "All the remaining tanks also contain olive oil of the same disgusting quality. There is no auxiliary water for the crops at all."

  "Whoop!" cried Larry or Moe or Curly. "The crop is going to wither and die and rot! We're going to get to eat something different."

  "The captain does not see it that way," said Christianson. "He will use the main water tank to irrigate his experiment."

  "Is this some kind of a joke, Caine?" shrieked Bill. "That water's for the crew's use."

  "It was for the crew's use," said Christianson, stepping between Bill and Caine, waving his scented handkerchief in Bill's face. "Let it be known that as of this moment, the crew is on restricted water rations. All water lines in the ship except those to the crops and the senior officers' quarters have been disconnected. An empty cup has been hung on the end of the robot arm in the ceiling of Repair Dock Five. Any member of the crew desiring water must climb to the end of the arm and retrieve the cup, take it to the officers' mess to have it filled, and return it to the end of the robot arm before it is refilled. There will be no exceptions. You may rest assured it is a very small cup."

  "That's the stupidest thing I ever heard of," said Bill.

  "Maybe. But it is also an order," said Christianson with a sneer. "Direct from Captain Blight."

  "I'm sorry, Bill," said Caine. "I tried."

  "You're too soft, Caine," said Christianson, turning to leave. "Let's go. And Bill — make that repellent chap put his shirt back on. Morale must be kept high at all times."

  They walked out and the crew stood around, stunned by the recent turn of events.

  "Do I really have to put on my shirt?" asked Uhuru. Bill shook his head gloomily. "Who knows — and who cares. I'm thirsty already."

  "What are we going to do about the water?" asked Tootsie. "We can't make it without water."

  "Mutiny!" cried Rambette, pulling out a dagger. "I say we mutiny!"

  "That's sort of kind of extreme," said Bill. "Let me see what I can do first."

  "Hey! These great!" cried Bruiser, tossing back a handful of bugs. "Give 'em try."

  Bill watched his crew scramble to the okra beds, popping bugs into their mouths like they had never eaten before. Things were definitely bad, but mutiny? On the Bounty?

  CHAPTER 5

  Bill had been dreaming of water for weeks. While he was asleep he swam ecstatically in cool lakes, stood gratefully under the caress of gentle rains and slurped satisfactorily at all manner of refreshing drinks. While he was awake it was quite different. He was dry, parched, and chronically and continually thirsty. Captain Blight had left them a very small cup, and the robot arm seemed to get longer and higher in the air with each arid, waterless day.

  H
e was worried about his foot, too. It wasn't doing right at all. As a matter of fact, it was doing very wrong. It had stopped growing, stabilizing itself in a massive gray stump with large, flat toenails. It looked and felt exactly like an elephant's foot and was just as heavy.

  Bill remembered Dr. Hackenslash's pachyderm fascination and shuddered. Surely he wouldn't have gone that far. Caine, being a scientist android of sorts and the closest thing to a doctor on board, with his knowledge of biology, had been no help at all, since Bill's foot was not made of plant material and therefore of little interest.

  But as Bill opened the door to Captain Blight's office, his foot was the least of his concerns. He was worried. Why had the captain taken the unusual step of summoning him to his quarters? Attention from officers is always bad news for the troops. Blight usually had Christianson deliver his orders. It couldn't be aphids again; the crew was so hungry that the bugs never had a chance.

  "At ease, Trooper," said the captain from his chair, almost invisible behind his rolls of fat. Sure enough, Christianson was standing at his side, sipping a glass of ice water.

  "We have a serious problem," said Blight, looking grim. "A catastrophe of grave proportions has befallen us."

  Bill's mind raced. No more water? An outbreak of mosaic rust virus in the okra beds? An endemic plague of Space Clap? Out of fuel? Lost in space? Marooned?

  "A critical turn of events," said Christianson somberly. "Most severe."

  "Are we going to die?" moaned Bill. Maybe they were being sucked down a black hole.

  "Doughnuts," said Blight, the muscles in his jaw tightening, his hands gripping the arms of his chair, his fat all a-jiggle with barely controlled rage. "My doughnuts!"

  "Doughnuts?" gurgled Bill.

  "Gone," said Christianson, evilly clinking the ice in his glass. "Every last one."

  "That's your catastrophe!" cried Bill, relieved they didn't have a black hole in their immediate future.

  "I assure you this is most serious," Blight muttered darkly. "Somebody broke the computer code to the lock on the vault where the doughnuts were stored."