"Look," I said. "We're going to be suited up. Hoods, O-masks, everything. Let's just everybody try to get to the pod as fast as possible. It'll be close enough."
Reilly grunted skeptically at that. The map view on his display showed the projected landing area as a wide ellipse that trembled uneasily as it tracked the pod's descent and extrapolated the locus of possible landing points. I could see why Reilly was skeptical. The ellipse still covered too wide an area. It quivered and shrank as we watched. Finally, it turned into a bright red X that bounced around the map for a few moments, until it finally overcame the last of its indecisiveness and stuck itself to one location on the display. Shit-it wasn't close enough.
A moment later, the module struck the ground. It hit hard, bouncing twice on its springs and sending up a great pink cloud. The thick dust muffled most of the impact of its landing. Even so, we felt the shock within the van. The chute harness came popping off the top of the vehicle even before it had finished settling into the pink sludge; the great silk canopy puffed and rolled and finally collapsed in upon itself, coming to rest halfway up the slope. "The pod is green," said the voice from above. "Go!"
"We're on our way!" I shouted back and popped the hatch.
"Uh-oh-" said Locke. He pointed toward the screens. The worms had felt the impact too. They had interrupted their feeding to cock their eyes sideways and upward. As we watched, they abandoned their feast and began pushing their way up through the tunnels.
"Shit," I said. "Willig, Reilly! We're gonna have company! Come on-everybody go! Now! Now! Now!" I pushed them out the door one after the other. Willig and Reilly were first; Willig staggered momentarily under the weight of her cold-rocket launcher, and for a second I feared I'd made a terrible mistake, but she recovered herself quickly and took her position without complaint. She gave me a quick thumbs-up signal. I couldn't see her expression, but she had to be enjoying every moment of this. At least, I hoped she was.
The rest of the team lunged out after them. Everyone was carrying at least two heavy eases-specimens, samples, memories, everything. I was carrying the black box autolog of the mission. In their O-masks and hoods, they looked like golems. Once into the pink, they turned into snowmen or teddy bears. The stuff was waist-deep in places-and gooey. They crunched heavily across the slope like determined mountaineers.
I was the last one out. I punched the van's self-destruct switch and armed it, then tumbled out after them.
The pod was forty, maybe fifty meters away-a short dash for anyone under normal conditions, but these weren't normal conditions. The dust was thick, it was syrupy, and it was developing a hard, brittle crust. Every step was an effort. Everything was hidden. You couldn't tell what you were stepping onto-rock or root or slippery earth. It was like trudging through a blanket of ghastly red phlegm.
Further along the slope, it became even more dangerous. There were thick patches of ivy-like kudzu under the pink. The individual leaves were waxy; they slipped and slid across each other like plates of soap. If you weren't careful with your footing, you ended up flat on your face-or your fanny. More than one member of the team added a skidmark to his or her track. Twenty meters into it and I could feel my heart pounding from the exertion of trying to run through this mess carefully. The sweat was dripping into my eyes, rolling down my neck and arms.
It was a mess. The squad was spread haphazardly across almost the entire distance between the van and the rescue module. Willig and Reilly had the worst of it. They were bringing up the rear.
"Come on," I called to them. "You can make it-"
"Keep going!" Willig shouted back at me. I could see she was having trouble keeping her balance. Shit. The worms were still in the tunnel, and I already knew how this was going to end.
I hadn't even had time to complete the thought when the first of the worms came bursting out of the grove. It stopped for a moment, hesitating just long enough to catch its bearings-the moment stretched out forever-and then it came roaring straight down toward our line. And behind it came the other two. Reilly was already bracing himself to fire. Willig looked a little unsteady, but I wanted to drop my burden, the autolog cases, the memories, everything, and run to help her, but I knew I couldn't. There wasn't time. Shouldn't. The logs were more important. Besides, there were two of them, there were only three worms. If each of them got off two shots-
The worms came slashing down the slope, chttrrrrrring the whole way, waving their long mantis-like arms over their heads like battle flags. Their eyes were blinking furiously against the clouds of dust they raised.
Reilly fired first-the rocket shot up the slope, leaving a streak of bright cold steam that puffed out rapidly as a plume of furiously expanding clouds. The rocket punched into the worm with a thump that echoed loudly even in the pink-muted stillness. The worm looked abruptly surprised as the cold-bomb exploded within it-and then it looked hurt and confused, as if it were asking, "What? How could you?" The loose skin around its eyes puffed up and bulged, its body expanded like a balloon, its arms jerked out spasmodically, all its fur stood out on end-and then it just simply froze in that position. It crackled, and hardened, and slid to a motionless halt, toppling sideways like a statue. A sudden coat of frost appeared all over it, turning it first white, then pink as the dust began to settle and stick.
The second worm came racing by, oblivious to the fate of its companion. Willig's missile met it halfway-but this one hit the target off-center, sending it tumbling and skidding and sliding, confounded and furious, its arms waving frantically. But it wasn't killed! Half its side exploded outward, one of its eyes disintegrated, but it was still screaming. It recovered itself and came humping relentlessly down the slope. Reilly got it with his second, shot, but-
-the third worm hit him like an avalanche. His aim had been blocked by the body of the first one. Willig swung around to fire, but by then it was too late, the worm had grabbed him in its teeth and was shaking him back and forth like a terrier with a rat. His screams were horrible. Willig should have fired, but she hesitated, hoping there was still a chance to save him-I couldn't blame her, I was hoping too even though I knew better-"Shoot! Goddammit! Kill it! Kill it!"-and then the worm turned and was almost on her and somehow she got a shot off.
She was too close, or she missed, or the missile was defective-we couldn't tell, it all happened too fast. The missile went out and down, hitting just in front of the worm, the ground puffed up and came apart in a flashing blast of cold steam. The worm was hurled into the air, twisting and writhing. Willig was thrown backward by the blast. She left a great furrow of dust rising up around her. The worm came down thrashing. It looked stunned; whatever, it wasn't attacking.
"Get up, Willig! Get up! Shoot it! Shoot it again!" Reilly had been flung aside; his legs were twitching. He was still alive!
Willig was injured; she was trying to scramble to her feet and couldn't make it. She kept falling backward into the pink, her arms flailing wildly. Whatever she was trying to say, it was muffled and incoherent. She was panicked or in pain. I hesitated. Should I go back after her? That's when Locke came charging past me-skidding and slipping.
Maybe he had a chance, maybe they all did-the worm was blinking in confusion. It was waving its arms uncertainly. Maybe it was as scared as we were, maybe it was hurt, it was humping and wobbling; it wasn't attacking. "Go get her, Locke," I said. I was already wondering if I should go after Reilly.
And that's when I saw the shamblers explode in fury. It was as if they all came apart at once. A great cloud of flickering red particles came rising up from the canopy of frosted branches. "Oh my God! The tenants! Everybody run!" I didn't look to see if they obeyed. "Locke! Leave them!" He was trying to help Willig to her feet, she didn't have the strength or coordination even to stand, let alone walk; he grabbed her suddenly in a fireman's carry, pulling her clumsily over one shoulder. He stumbled toward us crunching through the hard-crusted goopy drifts. He might as well have been glued to the spot for all the progress
he made. It was too late for both of them. They weren't going to make it.
The swarm came down on both of them-on Reilly too. It must have been the blood and confusion in the air. The cloud of hungry tenants buzzed around the worm as well. In their suits, maybe they had a chance, but these were the little red kites that we called shredders. They were aerial piranhas, the worst ones of all. For a moment, it looked like Locke and Willig might actually make it. They struggled forward through the angry biters, but the mass of bodies around them kept growing and growing. The things clustered on their hoods and body suits, on their backs and arms and heads-until they disappeared inside an evil churning mass. The sheer weight of numbers pulled them both down into the pink. Maybe they thrashed wildly against their myriad little attackers, and maybe it was just the furious frenzy of the feeding swarm that jerked them wildly about, but it was obvious that their body suits had given way before the onslaught. A great black stain spread outward through the pale dust. The worm was recovering now. It moved unsteadily forward to investigate.
We had maybe a minute before they came after the rest of us. I was already shouting: "Go! Go! Goddammit! Goddammit! Dammit! Dammit! Dammit! Go!" I was waving my arms and urging the rest of the team madly toward the pod. I scrambled after them in a blind panic, charging futilely through the unyielding muck, crunching through the crust, skidding, slipping, sliding, tumbling, flailing toward the yellow-gleaming doorway in the distance, my vision blurred, unseeing, raging hoarsely, screaming, not knowing if those things were coming after me, expecting any second to be hit by the roaring worm or surrounded by all those crimson horrors fluttering up behind, enveloping all of us in an agony of shredding little bites, hideously scratching and clawing and pulling us down into the drifts, disintegrating into screaming oblivion, the terrible pictures in my head, the maw, the teeth, concentric circles descending into hell, Reilly's spattering blood and Willig's flailing arms, Locke's futile struggles, the exploding swarm, the furious insects, all the churning little mouths-and the screams! My God, the screams! The wild thrashing-and the other noises too, the wet slobbering ones-my blood was pounding in my head.
The worm had reached them now and-
Lopez was the first to reach the pod. It was the size of a small bus, only with landing skids instead of wheels. She punched the red panel next to the door, popping it open-she flipped up the activation switch, and the pod's door fell outward. The dust crackled and puffed. Lopez threw her cases in, then turned and helped pull Valada into the module. Siegel came slipping and skidding through the slushy pink mess; it churned like syrup; he pushed Lopez up the ramp, turned, and waited for me-I shoved him in, using the autolog as a ram, and tumbled in on top of him, not looking back. The door came slamming shut behind me. I was tangled in a mass of limbs and metal boxes. Somebody was swearing-someone else was screaming. I heard sobbing too. I tried to scramble to my feet, tried to make my orders heard. "Goddammit! Somebody punch the launch button!"
Somebody did. I felt the module jerk sharply. The first of the lift bags was inflating. Another two thumps and the second and third bags began filling with helium. When all three silvery balloons were bulging like ripe melons, the pod would lift aloft and be carried high above the roiling roof of pink. If need be, the lifters would pull us all the way up into the stratosphere.
"Anchor those cases and strap yourselves in-is anybody hurt?" I pulled myself erect, hanging from a wall brace. "Lopez, see to Valada. Anesthetize her if you have to. Everybody keep your 0-masks on." I slipped and skidded, but still managed to position myself in front of the door. "Forget it, Siegel. You're not going back-"
"Just one shot, Captain-
"Let it go! If you miss, or if you only wound it, it'll attack the module-"
"Let me shoot it from the air!"
"I said, let it go!"
"You heartless bastard!"
"Thank you for sharing that-"
Siegel's expression was so filled with hate and rage that for an instant I thought he was going to attack me. He started to turn away, but I caught his shoulder, pulled him back to me, put both my hands on his face and held him close. "Listen to me! She was my friend too-I almost went back for her. She knew what she was doing! So did Reilly. And Locke. They paid for your ticket on this bus. Don't you waste it by doing something stupid."
He knew I was right, but he still didn't like hearing it. The module shuddered and jerked. We both looked up
"First bag is full," said Lopez. "Two and three-" The pod shuddered again, slipped sideways, and tilted uneasily; the sludge beneath us squelched as the vehicle tried to pull free. "-two and three are filling fast."
"Anchor that." I pointed to the autolog module. Siegel grabbed it with a surly efficiency and clipped it to a couple of rungs set in the floor. I glanced around; everybody else was already strapped in; there were seats all the way around the interior of the cabin. I pushed Siegel into an empty one and plunked myself down opposite him. Valada handed me one side of my seat harness, I had to fumble around for the other. I was still fumbling when the pod finally squelched free of the damned muck and we lifted up into the air.
For a moment, everything was silent. We looked at each other's faces. We were dirty and stunned and still shocked by the rapid pace of everything that had happened. We drifted upward unbelievingly. "Altitude?" I asked.
Lopez glanced to the display at the front. "Seventy-five meters. And rising."
"That's high enough," I said. I unclipped myself so I could turn around and look out the window. Nope-wrong direction. I lurched for the opposite side of the pod and peered out past Siegel's shoulder. "Turn around and watch this," I said.
Below, we could see the dull gray lump of the tank frozen in a pastry landscape. Nearby, a frosty worm was doing something horrible in the meringue. In the center of a flattened patch of crust, an angry churning cloud swarming around it, the worm was feeding. Even in my revulsion, the detached part of my mind was realizing that this explained the strange bite patterns we'd seen on the dead feral worm. First, the three socialized worms killed it, then the tenants came in and gorged until the blood stopped flowing. Another hideous partnership. I unclipped the remote trigger from my belt, armed it, and pressed the red button.
The tank disappeared in a flash. A beautiful bright globe of orange light flared into existence, spreading out rapidly, expanding to envelop the two dead worms, the third one that was now gorging itself on the bodies of our friends, the grove of clutching shambler trees, the nest beneath it, and all the goddamned things still fluttering in the air. All of them were instantly incinerated. And still the flash expanded.
The shock wave rose to meet us. For a brief uncomfortable moment, the module buffeted nastily, then it was over, and we rose up again in silence.
Below, the world burned. The pink crust ignited and flamed. Black smoke rose up around us. We could feel the heat like an oven. For all I cared, the inferno could rage from here to Chihuahua, leaving half of Mexico scorched and blackened. The hell with it. The hell with everything.
The stingfly lays its eggs in the fleshy edible lobes of the purple wormberry plant. The eggs remain dormant until the wormberries are eaten by an acceptable host organism. When the stingfly egg reaches the organ that serves as a stomach, it hatches into a tiny voracious grub.
To keep itself from being flushed out of the stomach into the lower digestive tract, the stingfly grub attaches itself to the stomach lining with numerous strong pincers. Then it begins to feed on any organic matter in the stomach with a high cellulose content.
At this point, several Chtorran organisms have been identified as acceptable hosts for stingfly grubs; in specific, gastropedes, ghouls (gorps), and bunnydogs. Other Chtorran life forms may also serve as hosts, but remain as yet unknown.
A number of Terran species also provide acceptable environments to stingfly larvae. These include (but are not limited to) cattle, horses, donkeys, sheep, goats, llamas, ostriches, pigs, dogs, cats, and humans. The health penalty
to Terran creatures, however, is prohibitive. Acute ulceration, morbid infection, and death is not uncommon.
—The Red Book,
(Release 22.19A)
Chapter 26
The Blue Fairy
"Choose your death carefully. You'll be stuck with it for a long long time."
-SOLOMON SHORT
Then abruptly we broke through and the world was blue again. We looked at each other in dazed surprise as the lemon sunlight poured through the cabin windows. We felt suddenly clean. We had risen into a fresh new sky, leaving behind everything that had happened in that other terrible pink place. I looked around and saw nervous smiles. Like me, they wanted to giggle at the wonder of it all-we were still alive.
"We got away, didn't we?" Valada whispered.
The question didn't need an answer. I put my hand on the glass and gazed out at the beautiful new sunlight. It was so easy to be grateful for little things.
Below, the world was a vast pink carpet, spreading out in gentle puffs toward a crisp horizon. Directly below us, though, there was an unholy orange glow coming from deep beneath the surface. Even as it cleansed, it looked evil.
How far would it spread? It didn't matter. That world was dead already. Think of it as an interesting ecological experiment and put it out of your mind-it's just another weapon to use against the pernicious Chtorran infestation.
We floated up to the top of that incredibly bright blue sky. I checked my watch. It was barely nine-thirty. It was all happening much too fast
The plane made two passes. The first time, the pilot didn't like the angle and circled around to catch us from a different direction. The second time he caught us. The skyhook snagged the cable, slid up to the connecting harness, clicked into place, and triggered the release of the lifters. The cable tightened and we were yanked across the sky.
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