"We must combine our forces to fight a new danger. This camp is
infected with rabies."
"Rabies?"
"Yes, sir," Bellam answered. "The Outlander's dog had a convulsion
beyond the guard line and then almost attacked the three of us. That
dog is mad."
"How do you know it was a convulsion?" Thane asked.
"You saw it, yourself," Bellam answered.
He turned his head to face Thane as he spoke and Thane saw his eyes for
the first time.
They were the lifeless, staring eyes of a dead man.
He flicked his light over the faces of the other two guards. They were
the same; all three were like walking dead.
"Did the monsters harm you?" he asked Bellam.
Bellam hesitated, seeming to tense with suspicion. "No." The dead eyes
stared into his. "What makes you ask?"
He saw that Curry had noticed nothing different about the three guards.
It was typical of Curry; to him subordinates were only automatons to
carry out his orders.
"We were discussing a mad dog, Thane," Curry said. "Not the health
of my men." He spoke to Bellam. "As I recall, rabies was a
pre-Technogration plague, often fatal."
"The bite of a rabid animal is invariably fatal, the death prolonged
and painful," Bellam said. "There is no preventative or cure among the
medical supplies on the ship. The dog must be killed at once, together
with all other animals in the Outlander camp."
"If the dog was mad, why hasn't it bitten any of the Outlanders," Thane
asked Curry. "I suggest we keep it on a leash until we know for sure."
"The dog was smuggled aboard the ship in defiance of regulations,"
Curry said. "It would have been destroyed before had I known about it."
He turned to Bellam, ignoring Thane. "The three of you will search the
Outlander camp from end to end. Kill all animals and report to me the
names of the owners."
The three departed, to begin the search at the nearer end of the camp.
Thane made no further objection. He knew the Outlanders well enough
to know that they would have overheard the discussion on the hill and
slipped the dog out through the guard lines before that discussion
ended. Outlanders could be very clever in such matters--the searchers
would find no dog.
There was satisfaction on Curry's face as he turned and with his two
bodyguards started back up the hill to his camp. Thane watched him go,
smiling a little. Curry was making the mistake that had been fatal for
so many before him; he was taking it for granted too soon that he had
won.
A man came hurrying from the north guard line before Curry had gone
far. He called to Curry:
"Sir, there is something you ought to know--"
Thane saw, with almost disbelief, that it was one of his own men:
Gorman.
Curry waited and when Gorman reached him he said:
"When I was helping inspect the Outlander section of the ship for
hidden weapons this evening I saw some small animals in storage
compartment Thirteen. I think they were very young kittens. I would
like to volunteer to go and kill them."
Curry said something that a vagrant breeze made inaudible then his
words came clear:
"--I'll send a detail to the ship as soon as the camp is searched. You
will report to my guards now for orders and help them hunt for the dog."
Gorman started back to meet the guards and Curry stood for a little
while before he went on his way. Thane could imagine his feeling of
pleased surprise and triumph.
Thane called to Gorman as he passed some distance in front of him.
"Were you injured in the attack?" he asked.
"No," Gorman said. Then, with the same tense suspicion that Bellam had
had he asked the same question: "Why do you ask?"
"Why did you report to Curry instead of me?"
The answer came quickly, mechanically, "The animals are in his ship and
they must be killed. They may be mad."
"Go help Curry's men," he said and watched Gorman go, trying to fit
together the incidents that did not make sense.
Herbivores had attacked without reason. There had fallen dead, without
a blaster mark on them. The Outlander dog had fought nothing and almost
attacked the guards. One of his own men had gone over to the other
side. And there was a sudden strange urgency to kill all animals in
camp.
There was nothing he could do for the time being but wait for further
developments so he waited. The moon came up, so swift in its retrograde
orbit that its speed was visible and so near that it had the brilliance
of a dozen Earth moons. When it had lifted clear of the horizon it
flooded the land with a cold silver light that made the searchlights
of the guards unnecessary and revealed the camp with metallic
light-and-shadow clarity.
The search party was halfway through the camp, Gorman with them and
Bellam in command. They were ransacking the possessions and temporary
shelters of the Outlanders with swift efficiency, ignoring the protests
of the women and their blasters leveled warningly on the men.
They found the little girl.
She was carrying her kitten ahead of them, a small, silent shadow in
the moonlight, when Gorman saw her. He spoke to Bellam and Bellam's
head jerked up. Then the two of them advanced on her.
She tried to run when she realized they had seen the kitten, hugging it
in her arms with the white cord trailing behind her. Bellam overtook
her and caught her by the shoulder, jerking her to a halt. He tore the
kitten from her arms and flung it hard to the ground. It made a thin
little scream of pain and the girl fought to reach it, her cry sobbing
and frantic:
"_Don't hurt him_--"
Gorman's blaster hissed and blue flame leaped from it. Incandescence
enveloped the kitten and then there was nothing where it had been but a
small black hole in the ground.
Bellam and Gorman wheeled back, like mechanical men, to resume the
search. The girl stood a moment, staring before her, saying something
very low that sounded like, "_Tommy ... Tommy...._" Then she stumbled
to the little black hole and dropped to her knees beside it as though
she hoped that somehow she might still find her kitten there.
He looked away, strangely disturbed. He drummed his fingers restlessly
on the butt of his holstered blaster then he turned again to go down
into the Outlander camp.
The moon was up and it was time he found the dog. Something had come
out of the night with the monsters and perhaps she could tell him what
it was. He could not yet believe she was mad.
* * * * *
The dark haired woman stood by the fire, watching the little girl
and the searchers with bitter, smouldering hatred. She faced him, her
breath coming fast in her anger.
"Her parents and her brother--when the ship broke up--she lost them
all. Only her kitten was left to her."
"Where is the dog?" he asked.
"Find her!"
"The dog--where is she?"
"Find her," she challenged again. "Find her and kill her--if you can!"
He stepped past her and went on his way. She had told him what he
wanted to know: despite her attempts not to do so she had been unable
to keep from glancing toward the ship.
* * * * *
His route took him by the little girl. She was standing by the hole,
small and bare-footed in the grass, her hands holding the white cord
that was black and charred on one end. She was crying, silently, as
though too proud to let him see her break.
After he had passed her the vision went with him for a little way;
the terrible, helpless hatred and hurt in her eyes and the moonlight
gleaming coldly on her tears.
He looked back when he reached the ship. Gorman was coming, running,
and the other three were turning back from the far end of the camp to
hurry after Gorman.
He looked toward Curry's camp and saw Curry watching him. Curry and his
men moved toward him and there were six to make a rendezvous with him.
The truce was over.
He found the dog behind the farthest tail fin, leashed to a thorny bush
and almost invisible in the shadows.
She watched him as he stopped before her, her ears forward
questioningly and her tail moving a little with tentative friendliness.
He spoke to her and her reply was a low bark, her tail whipping with
delight. She thought he had come to release her....
He had known dogs well as a boy and he knew the one before him was not
mad.
He heard Gorman's feet plodding fast through the grass and he waited
with his blaster in his hand.
Gorman came around the tail fin, panting, his own blaster in his hand.
The dog went rigid at the sight of him, the growl in her throat, and
Gorman's blaster swung toward her.
"_Hold it!_" he ordered.
Gorman paused, and the dead eyes looked into his. "There the mad dog
is--we must kill it."
"We can kill it later if it's mad. We'll watch it a while, first."
The suspicion became like something almost tangible about Gorman and
his blaster started the first movement toward Thane.
"_Why?_"
"I think it can see something--"
Gorman fired, so swiftly that he felt the heat of the beam even though
he had been expecting it. He shot for the heart and Gorman collapsed
before he could fire again. He lay still on the ground, the eyes that
stared up into the sky no deader than when he had been alive.
The dog was lunging against her leash, trying to get to him. Thane
stepped closer and watched the grass beside Gorman's head. A patch of
it the size of his hand suddenly bent down, as from an unseen weight,
and then something struck his knee.
He slapped at it as it darted up his leg and knocked it off; something
that felt like a mass of cold, rubbery tentacles. He knew, then.
He stepped back, his blaster swinging aimlessly. The thing would
leap again, to reach his head as it had done with Gorman, and it was
invisible. There was nothing but the moonlit grass to be seen. Perhaps
it was behind him, already preparing to spring....
The dog's snarling was a frenzied scream as she fought against her
leash. He swung his blaster and its blue beam cut the leash in two.
She flashed toward him, then up, her ears laid back, her eyes blazing
slits and her teeth slashing at his throat. His blaster was in line
with her chest and for a brief instant he had only to press the firing
stud.
He did something he had not done for thirty years; he trusted his life
to another being and did not fire.
Cold tentacles whipped against his face and her teeth closed together
beside his cheek with a vicious snap and gust of hot breath. She
rebounded and held the thing on the ground between her paws as she tore
at it; gagging a little, whining and snarling in fury and triumph.
He squatted beside her and laid his hand on her, speaking to her
soothingly. She calmed a little, though her chest still pounded with
the beating of her heart, and he saw the thing she had killed.
It was dead and slowly becoming visible as it changed to a color like
pale milk. It resembled a huge, hairless spider.
It was a parasite; a highly intelligent parasite that could take over
the mind of its host as well as the body. The parasites had had only
the forest monsters as hosts, before, but with the coming of the
humans they had the opportunity for hosts of a far higher order. They
possessed a means of locomotion but apparently it was limited in its
duration or else they would not have needed to control the leaders of
the monster bands and stage the attack that would carry them to the
guard lines.
The dog, with the acute sixth sense of some animals, could sense the
hostile alienness of the things. She could see them--apparently the
vision range of dogs went a little farther beyond that of humans. So
also would that of cats but the kitten had had no chance to show by its
actions what it had seen.
The dog had hated the changed men because they were alien things, no
longer human. The thing that had been Bellam had used the knowledge
stored in Bellam's mind to claim there was rabies in the camp and
thereby enlist the support of the humans in killing their only means of
detecting the parasites.
* * * * *
There was a pounding of feet beyond the ship as the zombies came.
On the slope above him Curry was striding toward him, his bodyguards
flanking him and the moonlight bright on his face.
He stood with the dog beside him and watched them come to kill him.
Only he and the dog knew of the parasites; if they were killed the way
would be open for the parasites to infiltrate the camp. In the end the
new world would hold only the walking dead, down to the last Outlander
child.
"Curry," he called.
He did not have to speak loudly in the still night air for Curry to
hear him but Curry came on, his face hard, arrogant metal in the
moonlight.
"Give me one minute, Curry, to tell you what I found."
Curry's reply was the order to his men.
"The dog is with him. Kill them both."
His blaster swung up as he spoke.
Thane dropped, firing as he went down. Curry's arrogant face dissolved
into nothing and his blaster flamed aimlessly into the ground at his
feet. The blaster of the swiftest guard sent its beam hissing like a
snake over Thane's head, then he went down as Curry had done, the other
guard falling beside him with his first and only shot licking off into
the moonlight.
Then the zombies came around the tail fin, in a quick rush with their
dead eyes staring and their blasters making a curtain of blue fire
before them.
The dog lunged at them and a blaster beam dipped down to meet her.
Bellam--his headless body was falling forward as Thane killed the
zombie beside him. The blaster of the third one ripped its beam like
a white-hot iron along Thane's ribs as he died. Then, within two
heartbeats, it was over and the night was quiet again.
He returned his blaster to its holster. The dog was limping from one
zombie to the other, searching for parasites, her shoulder red with
blood and staining the grass.
She found none and he called her to him to look at her shoulder. It was
not a serious wound but it was painful and bleeding fast and should be
cared for. He took her around the ship, where the Outlander camp lay
in view below. He looked again at the wound and she whimpered a little
from the pain, gentle though his touch had been, then licked his hand
in quick apology.
"Your job is over for now," he said. He motioned toward the camp below,
where the dark haired woman was waiting. "Home, girl--go home."
She left him and went running and limping down the hill where her hurts
would be cared for.
* * * * *
His side was burning and blood was like a warm, wet sheet down it. He
made a temporary bandage of his shirt and then leaned wearily against
the tail fin.
It was all over. The nature of the parasites was known and everyone
could be fitted with a thin metal helmet until they were completely
eliminated. They did not seem to be numerous--apparently there had
been no more than ten or twelve among the scores of monsters. The dog
would watch, and warn them if any more were in the vicinity.
It was all over, with Curry a motionless spot on the hillside above
him and no one left to challenge him. He had come a long way from the
Outlander boy on the high, cold prairie who had hated Technogration. He
had been nineteen before he finally realized the futility of hating the
unassailable power of Technogration and realized he must accept it and
adapt to it. And then carve out a niche for himself with a ruthlessness
greater than any of those around him. So he had fought his way up,
trampling those who would have trampled him had they been a little
stronger, each step another victory in his conquest of the system that
had condemned him.
And now--the last victory. There was no one to challenge him; there
could be no one under the rigid discipline of Technogration.
The last victory. The security of Power to the end of his life.
That was Technogration.
* * * * *
Dawn touched the sky, softening the moon's hard light. As though the
coming of day was a signal, the ship trembled and there was the whisper
of dislodged soil as the tail fin lifted a fraction of an inch. The
antigravity plates were almost exhausted--the ship would fall within
minutes.
Down in the Outlander camp the children were gathering around the dog
as the dark haired woman bandaged her shoulder. A voice came to him,
treble and joyous, "Binkie is back--Binkie is back...."
The little girl sat to one side, so small and alone that he almost
failed to see her. She watched the children crowd up to pet their dog
but she did not move to join them. Only her hands moved, caressing the
white cord that was charred on one end.
He felt the triumph and satisfaction become like something turned
bitter around the edges and draining away.
Technogration was planning and fighting and killing until at last a man
reached the top and no one dared oppose him; Technogration was control
of a world and the seeds of an empire.
And Technogration was a child crying in the cold moonlight, was a
little black hole where a kitten had screamed out with pain, with
a little girl's heart that had nothing left to hold but harsh and
poignant memories and a piece of burnt cord.
He ran to the boarding ramp, feeling the fiery lash of pain and hot
flow of blood as the wound reopened, telling himself he was a fool who
would probably die in the falling ship and would deserve it.
* * * * *
He stood by the gray ashes of his fire, the Guardsman's combat helmet
under his arm, and watched the little girl come alone up the hill.
Someone had washed the tear-stains from her face and she stopped before
him with her head held high and defiant, trying not to let him see she
was afraid of him and almost succeeding.
"I sent for you, Lornie, to tell you I'm sorry about last night."
He saw she did not believe him. Her face was like a little carving of
cold, unforgiving stone and she did not answer him.
He set the helmet down in the grass before her. Six tiny kittens lay
inside it, red and white and gray fluffs of fur, their pink mouths
questing hungrily.
Her eyes widened with incredulous wonder.
"_Oh!_"
Then the suspicion came back and she stopped the quick forward step she
had taken.
"They haven't any mother and they're hungry," he said.
She did not move.
"They're yours, Lornie. To keep."
"They're--mine?" Then the doubt fled from her and she ran forward to
gather them in her arms.
He left her with her head bent down over the kittens in her lap, making
soft little sounds of endearment to them, her face so radiant that
there was no room left for hurt or hatred on it.
Kennedy was coming, not yet knowing why he had been summoned nor
that Technogration had died at dawn. He would not relinquish all his
authority, of course. And he would have to remember to tell Kennedy
that they were going to give him one of Binkie's pups.
The companionship of an understanding dog might be comforting in the
years to come, whenever he recalled the morning he had owned a world
and a bare-footed girl had taken it away from him.