Futures Past (19 page)

  
"But don't they realize that the Bugs are still coming?" MacFall said in an angry whisper. "Don't they know that they can probably breed like flies, and they'll have to start killing them soon if they don't want to be eating the things with every breath they take?"

  
Nolan mashed a large green insect on the back of his neck with his palm, studied the remains briefly then wiped his hand on the coveralls. He said, "We know nothing of their mating or breeding habits, Sergeant, and the number of ships arriving seems to have fallen off during the past few months. So it may take several centuries for the situation which you envisage to come about—that is, the Earth completely swamped in Bugs." He paused then, and went on hesitantly, "There is a lot to be said for the civilian point of view."

  
MacFall looked steadily at the lieutenant, making no attempt to hide his feelings. If Nolan should be that lowest of all forms of life in the army, a civvy sympathizer ...

  
"I disagree with their idea of just ignoring the Bugs in the hope that they'll go away," MacFall said doggedly. "Or of hoping that the Bugs will ignore us. Somebody has got to wipe somebody else out."

  
Nolan made a noncommittal noise and looked away.

  
MacFall went on, "I'm a pretty down-to-earth type, but I know what that space station we put up three years ago means—we're going to look silly doing that when we * can't even handle a lot of insects on our own planet, plenty silly—"

  
"Just suppose,'8 Nolan interrupted, "we push out into space and run against somebody who thinks of us as Bugs. They are intelligent, civilized, clean insects. We don't know what made them come here, what drove them to invade . . ." He shook his head and fell silent, his mind obviously miles away.

  
MacFall was glad because he did not seem to have an answer to the other's question. How would he feel if somebody looked on him and treated him like an insect? But humans were not insects, they had civilization, aircraft, atomic bombs. And what had the Bugs got? Answer: gauzy wings and weapons so puny that they should have only been an irritation. There was no comparison, surely.

  
But the Bugs had arrived in spaceships, ten-foot-long torpedoes that corroded away to nothing on being vacated by their crews, thus making it impossible for the humans to get even an inkling of their method of propulsion. The small size made it impossible for the Bugs to know anything of atomic energy, which required massive shielding and cumbersome remote control machinery—if they did know of it they probably considered it too crude to be worth bothering about. MacFall began to feel vaguely uncomfortable. For the very first time he was looking at the war from the enemy's point of view.

  
He grew aware that the lieutenant was watching him closely, with a calculating expression that was tinged with uneasiness, as if unsure of the reception his words would get.

  
Nolan said, "I have been trying to make this investigation, in this way, for a long time now. Finally I've been allowed to try it." He sounded apologetic but determined. "You won't like this Sergeant, but I mean to—"

  
He broke off as a sudden commotion sounded from up ahead, noises of rustling and low, excited voices. A message of some sort was coming down the line. MacFall moved forward to get it, then turned back to the lieutenant.

  
"There's a lion pacing us," he reported. "About twenty yards to the right." He had good control over his voice. It didn't shake a bit.

  
They were in a really dangerous position. The chief weapons carried by the patrol were the high-pressure insecticide sprayers, and Deedee guns were useless against the big cat. Not much better were the light revolvers which most of the men carried for use against snakes and such. A revolver bullet would simply madden the lion, and would certainly not stop it from mauling somebody to death before it died itself. MacFall swore under his breath. A lion, yet!

  
"Remember, no noise," Nolan said sharply.

  
Oh sure, MacFall said witheringly under his breath. I'll strangle it to death with my bare hands, just like the Commandos used to do to people.

  
But the lieutenant showed suddenly that he could keep cool, and think. He said quickly, "Close the men up, Sergeant. Hurry! It is more likely to attack us strung out like this than if we are in a small, compact group. If it should attack then ten revolvers used together might kill it before it could do any damage. But the guns won't be necessary.

  
I've read that the bravery of the lion is greatly overrated."

  
MacFall said, "Yes, sir," and passed the order up for Calleria to halt so that the rest could catch up with him. He was beginning to feel respect for this Lieutenant Nolan.

 
 
As they hurried forward to join the group forming at the head of the line, Nolan said warningly, "We must be quiet. Very quiet, so as to get as close to the Bug ship as possible without detection. As well as this . . ." His tone took on a hard edge ". . . the men must not in any circumstances use their Deedee guns should the Bugs attack us. Repeat, they must take no offensive measures whatsoever. Their protective clothing must be their only means of defense until I've found that ship and done what I have to do. Tell them that, Sergeant, and make sure they understand it."

  
MacFall knew that his jaw was hanging foolishly open, and that his countenance registered shocked protest together with signs of imminent mutiny. "But they won't, I mean, you can't ask them to do that," he burst out. "Listen ..."

  
The tough, plastic coveralls worn by the men were designed to withstand penetration by the microscopic projectiles of the Bugs. But the Bugs had a habit of concentrating their fire on one point of the transparent—and somewhat weaker—plastic of the face section until it was worn through or placing them with deadly accuracy into the hair-thin joins in the armor.

  
There was also a tendency toward claustrophobia when inside the broiling hot, tightly-sealed armor. Men panicked easily unless they had the knowledge that the Bugs trying to get at them—through encountering the Deedee curtain —had only seconds to live. MacFall tried to explain all this.

  
"I didn't say it would be easy, Sergeant," Nolan cut in sharply. "But it has to be done. If any man shoots off his sprayer, even by accident. I will personally—"

  
From the jungle on their right came a low, vicious growl which rose abruptly into a full-throated roar of anger. Something strong and heavy made thrashing sounds in the undergrowth. The rustling, snapping, snarling noise came suddenly closer ...

  
"Sarge!" a man ahead of them shouted. "My mosquitoes have left me!" He was already sealing his face armor.

  
MacFall had not noticed, the sound of an angry lion at close range having temporarily paralyzed his faculties. But it was true. The insects native to the jungle which had been plaguing them were gone, and that meant just one thing. Even above the racket coming from the nearby brush he could hear a high, shrill angry whining. Bugs!

  
Nolan shouted, "Listen men! Don't use your Deedee—"

  
But he was too late. Where the column had bunched together about thirty yards ahead the prescribed drill for this situation was already in operation. Seven men occupied an area roughly four yards square. Two of them were on their backs spraying the air and foliage above them in a tight circle. Three others swung their weapons through an arc of 120 degrees, bathing the upper branches of the surrounding trees while the remainder, in a half-kneeling position, soaked everything at ground level and a little above. In effect the men were protected by a dome-shaped curtain of spray which was lethal to attacking Bugs. The stragglers were hurrying to join them, unlimbering their Deedee sprayers as they went.

  
MacFall was pleased at the speed with which his men had set up the defensive curtain, but very obviously the lieutenant was not. He stood with his legs apart, slapping his clenched fist into an open palm, and his face was more despairing than angry. He still had not put on his face armor. MacFall grabbed his arm and give it a most disrespectful tug.

  
"We've got to join the others," he said, pointing into the protective drizzle falling ahead of them. "Quickly!"

  
Nolan shook his head, pulling backward. Then suddenly he shrugged and allowed MacFall to half push half drag him along.

  
They had gone barely three yards when there was an outbreak of shouts from up ahead, climaxed by one particularly horrible scream. MacFall swung around. A great cold hand seemed to reach in and twist his insides. The lion had charged from the undergrowth straight into the group putting up the defensive curtain, scattering them like ninepins. The Deedee curtain had abruptly ceased to exist, two men were lying on the ground—one of them not moving—and the others, their sprayers forgotten at their feet, were shouting and floundering about in an effort to both get away from the maddened beast and to bring their revolvers to bear on it without endangering one of themselves. A sharp crack cut through the snarling, shouting bedlam, followed by three more in quick succession.

  
MacFall saw the lion rear up, saw its forepaw lash out and rip the face armor—and almost the head—from a man trying to empty his gun into its face, and saw another man yelp and clutch at his knee as one of the bullets found the wrong mark. The lion rolled onto its side, leaped again and crashed into a thick tree. It began ripping frenziedly at the bark with pumping hind claws, making strangely pitiful sounds.

  
Of the four still on their feet, or knees rather, only one had retained his Deedee gun—and he was holding it, not using it, being temporarily in shock. The high-pitched, background whine of Bugs mounted suddenly in intensity and tiny flashes of light crackled on the man's plastic armor, like sequins winking on a dark dress. He came alive suddenly, turning the sprayer on himself in an effort to clear the area of his face armor. But the winking explosions moved immediately to the seals of his gauntlets. He dropped the Deedee gun. The lights crackled along the seam beside his ear seal. There was a sudden blotch of red under the transparent plastic and he went down beating at the side of his head with his fists.

  
MacFall had never seen such a concentrated, vicious attack. The Bugs were a solid grey cloud around the man's head, those who had been caught in the Deedee drifting heavily to the ground. Similar clouds encircled the heads of the other men. Quickly MacFall brought his own weapon to bear, twisted the nozzle to the long range jet position and let fly. Calling over his shoulder for the lieutenant to follow he played the jet on each of his men in turn. A fine mist of spray blew back onto his face armor so that he could hardly see.

 
 
He heard Nolan shout warningly, then there was a shot. Something that felt like a charging tank hit him low in the side. MacFall saw the jungle spin crazily around him. For an instant he was looking down through treetops at the deep blue sky, then something hard hit the back of his head and the jungle grew suddenly dim and out of focus. But before he blacked out completely MacFall was aware that the lion was straddling him and that it was being shot at. He could hear the shots faintly and felt the sharp tug as a bullet passed through his sleeve. But everything was going really black and he didn't seem to care anymore. ...

  
It was very quiet when MacFall came to. When he sat up he thought that the back of his head had cracked open, and when he wiped at the red streaking his face armor the hand holding the bunch of grass he used to do it was so awkward that he wondered if it was really his own. He felt horribly weak. Going back to sleep seemed like a good idea except that the pain in his head would not let him. MacFall rolled over and pulled himself up the tree trunk which his head had hit until he was standing on his feet. About four yards away he saw part of the lieutenant. He went over to him.

  
You would start shooting at it, MacFall thought, a peculiar pain growing in his chest. So it left me and jumped you instead. Aloud, he said, "Thank you."

  
From the waist down the lieutenant's legs were protruding from underneath a very dead lion, everything else being covered by the carcass. MacFall did not particularly want to see the rest of the officer, but he couldn't leave him like that. He gripped Nolan's ankles and began to pull. The legs came suddenly to life.