Bill 5 - on the Planet of Zombie Vampires (12 page)

Reluctantly, the crew started opening drawers and peering behind potted plants and bags of fertilizer. Only Uhuru refused to join in the hunt, saying he wasn't going to have anything to do with the horrifying aliens, science or no science.

“Lose something?” asked Captain Blight as he walked into the room with Mr. Christianson.

“My samples,” said Caine. “I must find them.”

“Oh, that old junk? I threw it all on the compost pile.”

“You what?”

“My plants have to live, too,” Blight said haughtily. “We can't let the okra die just because we're busy fighting aliens.”

“Those were valuable scientific specimens,” snapped Caine.

“They're compost now,” Christianson observed. “We just finished turning the pile.”

“My career is in tatters,” Caine whined. “We must get more samples. Everybody go back to sleep. I'll keep watch and try to catch an alien when it comes to feed.”

“Do I look like bait?” Rambette asked angrily.

“I'm never sleeping again,” moaned Tootsie.

“Bill and me gonna get Slasher,” said Bruiser. “When I sleep is gonna be wit da axe at side in bed.”

“Getting Slasher back is a good idea,” Caine said quickly. “And while you're down there in the cavern, why don't you sniff a pod or two. I wasn't finished with the fur and feathers.”

“I ain't sniffing no pods or nothin'!” roared Bruiser. “Bill, he can maybe do dat.”

“If you want pods, get them yourself,” Bill snapped. “I'm officially retiring from the pod-gathering business as of right now.”

“I vote for getting the ship out of here as soon as possible, if not sooner,” said Uhuru. “I've got a list of stuff we need from the station. While you're down there dodging aliens and facing certain death, you might as well pick up a few things for me.”

“Do I detect a slight reluctance on your part to leave the ship, Uhuru?” asked Rambette. “It couldn't be that you're turning coward on us?”

“Not me,” said Uhuru. “I simply thought it would be a more efficient use of our resources if I stayed here and supervised repairs while you all did the gathering. Someone has to be in charge, you know. Otherwise we won't get anything done.”

“Watch out for that mantle of responsibility stuff,” said Blight. “Once you put it on, it's hard to drop it.”

“I'll take that chance,” sniffed Uhuru.

“Who elected you to be boss of the repair operation, anyway?” asked Tootsie. “I don't remember casting my ballot. Curly and Bill both know this ship better than you do.”

“We can draw straws,” said Uhuru hopefully. “I just happen to have some plastic tubing that would do.”

“Forget your straws,” said Rambette. “What we need to do first is —”

“Curly!” cried two of the clones as they charged into the room. “An alien took Curly!”

“Calm down, if you can,” Caine advised the extremely agitated clones. “What did he look like?”

“Curly? He looks just like Moe and me, only a whole lot uglier. You know what Curly looks like.”

“No. The alien. What did the alien look like?”

“The usual. All hairy, bumpy, ugly. Lots of teeth. A funny tail.”

“How big was it?”

“Bigger than Curly. Uglier, too.”

“It's still growing,” said Caine. “I do wish you would give me a more detailed description. I can hardly write ' funny tail' in my journal.”

“Listen, bowb, we've got to get Curly back,” snapped Bill. “Curly first, research later.”

“That's right,” said Tootsie. “We can't let the aliens eat Curly or suck all the life force out of him and turn him into a mummy.”

“That's real compassionate of you, Bill,” said Rambette. “I didn't think you had it in you.”

“I don't,” admitted Bill. “I was actually more concerned about the fact that he's the only one who knows how to fix the autopilot.”

“Clear thinking,” said Blight. “I slept through that part in officer's school.”

“They don't teach autopilot repair anymore,” said Christianson. “It's too complicated for us officers. If we had to learn stuff like that we wouldn't have time to learn the real important things like how to give lavish parties, raise our sperm count, and brutalize the troops. And, if I might be so bold as to suggest it, the MP should bring that stinking dog. It might help; maybe Barfer can sniff out a trail.”

“He's probably stuffing his face in the okra room,” said Bill. “Where else would he be?”

Sure enough, Barfer was chowing down on some Abelmoschus humungous, happily stumbling from one end of the bed to the other, picking out only the tenderest, tastiest buds. Blight was about to kill the grazing dog but was convinced not to when Caine informed him that a selective harvest would stimulate new growth in the established plants and was, indeed, a recommended procedure.

They picked up the trail outside Curly's door. It was not a terribly difficult trail to follow, being a strip of shedded orange fur a yard wide going down the corridor. It led them to what used to be the door to the docking tube.

The door was a twisted and destroyed wreck, lying in pieces on the floor. All the edges were melted, as if they had been sizzled by a giant welding torch or hosed down by a caustic acid.

“This is awful,” said Uhuru, scribbling on a piece of paper. “I'll have to revise my shopping list. Pick me up a door if you find one.”

“Such power,” said Caine admiringly, hefting a chunk of broken door. “They are truly amazing creatures.”

“They're creeping horrors, if you ask me,” shivered Rambette. “Let's find Curly and get the damn ship ready to go. If you want to study them, do it on your own time.”

The station appeared just as they had left it, except for about a thousand crisscrossing orange fur trails of all sizes. The crew huddled together in the command center.

“We've got to split up into groups,” said Bill, tearing Uhuru's shopping list into strips and giving everyone a piece. “This place is too large to explore as one unit. You'll each take a list and find the items on it. But be careful about wandering off on your own — it might have a negative impact on your life.”

“Look at all these fur tracks,” moaned Tootsie. “There must be hundreds of these creatures up and about. I don't think even being here is a good idea. I mean, what if the creatures already had Curly for lunch? We ought to just fix the ship and get off this miserable planet.”

“Our first objective is to find our shipmate Curly,” said Bill, assuming his best Trooper stance. “Not only is he our good buddy — but we can't fly the ship without him, so fixing the ship won't help much. Our second objective is to find the material Uhuru needs for repairs.”

“Our third objective is to gather specimens,” said Caine. “Remember, scientific observation should never be curtailed, even if we are currently fighting for our very lives.”

“You want specimens?” asked Bruiser. “Then you come to da basement wit me and Bill? Plenty action dere, you bet.”

“I'm sticking with Rambette,” said Captain Blight. “She's armed to the teeth.”

“I made a flamethrower out of a welding torch,” said Larry or Moe happily. “If I see anything move that isn't one of us, I'm going to fry it on the spot.”

“I wish I had big chainsaw,” said Bruiser. “I'd massacre dem Texas-style like in da video.”

“What's a Texas?” asked Rambette.

“What's a chainsaw?” asked Christianson.

“I think Texas is a star,” said Blight.

“A double star?” asked Bill.

“No, a lone star,” said Blight.

“Shut up!” Rambette shouted. “Every minute we stand around jawing about the situation is a minute more they have to munch on Curly. I think we've been breathing spores again.”

The rope was still tied to the heavy desk, and Bill followed Bruiser down into the threatening unknown with a great deal of trepidation. Not to mention fear. And trembling. Caine followed Bill, happy to be in search of specimens and secure in the knowledge that androids were unpalatable to alien taste buds. Barfer once again drew guard duty at the top of the rope.

“I wish I had that flamethrower instead of this flashlight,” Bill complained as they looked around. “It's a great flashlight and all that, but if I'm attacked.... Flamethrowers are better.”

“All we need is Slasher,” grinned Bruiser threateningly. “I'm going to wander off in da dark by myself and find my axe.”

“Look over here,” said Caine. “This is most interesting.”

“What did you find?” asked Bill, going towards the light of Caine's flashlight as Bruiser wandered off alone.

“Look at these pods,” he said. “Most of the ones in this pool have hatched. There must be a whole horde of the little monsters around here somewhere. Maybe I can collect a few live specimens. I know that I'd feel bad if one wrapped itself around your head and maybe killed you, but consider for a moment the incredible value that would hold for the advancement of scientific knowledge.”

“I'm considering,” said Bill. “Considering that I would like to suck your brain out through your nose and examine it to see where ideas like that come from.”

“Yes, well, I can see your point. But look — some of these pods are in the process of hatching. Take a close look at this one.”

“I'll pass, if you don't mind.”

“It's glowing with an eerie light,” said Caine, scribbling frantically in his notebook with his flashlight tucked in his armpit. “It's moving. Shift your light this way so I can get a closer look.”

“That's maybe not the galaxy's greatest idea,” said Bill.

“Don't be ridiculous. I must proceed with my observations. I am immune to the —”

“Watch out!” cried Bill as the pod split open and a creature popped out.

“Yow!” Caine screamed, swinging at the alien with his flashlight. “That hurt!”

“Keep it down,” called Bruiser. “You're making enough noise to wake da dead.”

Together Bill and Caine beat on the cute little baby monster until it quit moving.

“Good thing it's so dark in here,” said Bill. “If I was able to see good, I would never have been able to kill such a cute little thing. You'd be one dead android.”

“I don't understand,” said Caine, shaking. “I was sure they wouldn't attack me. I must have misjudged their adaptability.”

“You want to take this carcass?” asked Bill, playing his light on the squashed pile of fur and feathers, already feeling guilty for dispatching the cute little critter. “Maybe study it a little bit?”

“No thanks,” said Caine. “It tried to kill me. Something this deadly should be eradicated from the face of the universe, not put in zoos or laboratories where they might escape and wreak all kinds of havoc.”

“Yow!” hooted Bruiser. “Yow! Yow!”

“Are you all right?” cried Bill. “Did an alien jump out and get you?”

“No,” called Bruiser. “I found Slasher.”

“Great,” said Caine, heading for the rope in a real big hurry. “It's time to make our retreat. If Curly's down here, there's no hope for him.”

“Wait up!” cried Bruiser. “Dere's a whole flock of; dose cute little deadly beasties flying around me. Good t'ing it dark and I can chop dem up with Slasher without feeling bad.”

Caine was already halfway up the rope, kicking and beating at the swarm of flying fur and feathers that surrounded him. Spurred on by a sudden shot of adrenalin, Bill caught up with him in an instant. Together they scampered up the rope to the hole where Barfer was keeping the critters at bay, growling and snarling and snapping as if someone was trying to steal his okra.

“Get that mattress,” said Bill as he and Caine crawled out of the hole. “As soon as Bruiser gets here, we'll cover up that gateway to hell.”

“Dat was close,” said Bruiser, popping up and helping tilt the desk on top of the mattress. “Dey almost got me.”

“Good dog,” said Bill, patting Barfer on the head.

“Did you find Curly?” asked Rambette, walking into the room with Captain Blight and Christianson.

“No, but dat place is crawling with fur and feathers,” said Bruiser. “Dey're all over da place.”

“We've had our own problems up here,” said Blight. “Better watch your step.”

“It's the scuttling ones we've got attacking us,” said Christianson. “Like the one that Bill stomped. Must be hundreds of them up here.”

“They look like little crabs up close,” said Rambette. “Got a touch of mouse about them too. They can hurt you bad. Look at Blight's ankle.”

The captain's pant leg was shredded and he had a bloody bandage wrapped around his ankle. Christianson's boots were scarred from a few near-misses.

“You won't have any trouble getting specimens here,” Rambette said to Caine. “All you have to do is stand still for a couple of minutes.”

“I'm through gathering samples for the time being, thank you,” sniffed the android. “Maybe I wasn't designed to be on the cutting edge of scientific investigation. There's a lot to be said about working with plants. Plants stay where you put them and most of them don't leap up and attack you.”

“We got everything on our part of the shopping list,” said Blight. “But no sign of Curly. I wish I hadn't slept through autopilot repair, but it's too late to go back and rectify that little mistake. No sense in feeling bad about something I can't change.”

“This is a huge place,” said Christianson. “Curly could be anywhere. It might take weeks or months to explore every dangerously dark corner, especially dodging loathsome aliens all the time. We'll probably die before we find him.”

“The more we kill, the more they keep on coming,” said Blight. “We're fighting a losing battle against impossible odds. And to think, all this is a result of my sweet tooth. I wish I hadn't hoarded all the doughnuts. It probably wasn't a very good thing to do, but what's done is done.”

“While you're busy repenting,” said Rambette, “don't forget to feel sorry about not letting us have any water.”

“That too,” groaned Blight.

An alien crab-mouse critter scuttled across the floor. Bill stomped it with his elephant foot before he even had a chance to realize what he was doing.

“Good show,” said Christianson. “That foot may be huge and ugly, but it sure stomps aliens.”

“That's very odd,” said Bill, scraping the gore off the bottom of his foot. “My foot seems to have a mind of its own. It stomps before I tell it to.”