A Day for Damnation

FIFTEEN

DUKE SPOKE first. "Well..." he said, very softly, "here's another fine mess you've gotten me into."

I looked over at him. "I must say, you're taking it rather well." Duke ignored the remark. He was studying the bunnydogs, trying to figure out which one was the leader.

He said, "You're supposed to be a scientist. What's the Chtorran word for friend?"

"The only Chtorran word I know translates out as 'lunch."'

"Better not," Duke said. "Not until we know what these things eat."

"Well ... they're not herbivores," I said.

"How do you know that?"

"Their eyes are on the front of the head. Predators need stereoscopic vision for tracking prey. Prey animals need their eyes on the sides of their head for avoiding predators. At least, that's how it happened on this planet. I could be wrong. But... if they're meat-eaters, then there's also a potential for intelligence."

"Why?"

"How much brains does it take to sneak up on a blade of grass?" I replied. I'd credit the joke later.

Duke considered the idea and nodded. During all this, the bunnydogs still hadn't moved. They just sat and stared at us.

I added, "Pray that these things are omnivores. According to the Cohen models, intelligence develops first in hunters, but it survives in creatures who aren't totally dependent on the hunt."

"So?" Duke asked, "Are we in trouble here or not?"

"Well ... they're not carrying any weapons. If they're intelligent, then they could be just as curious about us as we are about them."

Duke turned slowly, studying the circle of little pink eskimothings. They were remarkably patient little creatures. Duke said slowly, "You may be making a false assumption here, Jim."

I turned in the opposite direction, also studying. "What's that?" I asked.

"You're assuming that these things are sentient. What if they're not? What if this is just a wolf pack?"

The idea startled me. Duke was right. I'd been anthropomorphizing the bunnydogs from the very first sighting. I'd just naturally assumed that anything with a humanoid form would have to be intelligent. "You're right. I'm sorry."

"Apologize later. Let's get out of here first."

One of the bunnydogs moved then. He shifted his squat to one side, and languidly began to scratch his ear with a hind leg. For a moment he looked just like a fat little puppy. Dammit! These things were too cute to be dangerous!

I looked at Duke. "Still think this is a wolf pack?"

"No more assumptions," he cautioned. He started forward, crunching through the still-frozen powder. Parts of it had started to thaw and were turning muddy. I could hear his boots squelching in the ooze. He took three steps and stopped. The two bunnydogs directly ahead of him stood up, gobbling excitedly and fluttering their hands. Duke glanced at me-what now?

The two bunnydogs looked at each other. They began to gobble at each other like baritone chipmunks. One of them took a hop and a half closer to the other and began gesturing like a little cheerleader. He gabbled and squeaked at his companion. He wrung his hands-they were tiny monkey paws. He put his fists together and shook them as if he were making a martini. He hopped up and down, raising large clouds of pink powder around them both. At one point, he even grabbed his cheeks and pulled them out sideways in a grotesque comical grimace.

His companion made a funny expression and gabbled something back. It looked like a disagreement. He waved both his fists over his head and made nattering noises. He thumped his feet in the dust, sending up an even larger cloud of pink smoke.

The first bunnydog flounced its displeasure. He reached over and pinched his companion's cheeks. He pulled and stretched them into a sideways expression. When he let go, we could almost hear them snap back into place. The second bunnydog was unimpressed. He shook his fingers at the first, waving them like little tentacles.

It was turning into an argument. The pitch and tempo of their voices began to rise, like a recording being speeded up. Then abruptly the argument was over. The two bunnydogs began to make up like a pair of lovers. They touched each other's hands and faces, cooed like doves, glanced at us once, nuzzled each other's cheeks, chittered for a moment longer-but in quieter tones now-then finally turned to face us again.

"And I'm supposed to take them seriously now?" Duke asked. "After that little performance?"

I shrugged. "They do have us outnumbered." I glanced back. More bunnydogs had added themselves to the circle. More were arriving even as I watched. I said, "It's now or never, Duke."

"I agree." He took another step forward

This time all the bunnydogs started chittering at us. They jumped up and down, gobbling and squeaking. The effect was ludicrous-and terrifying.

"Give 'em a puff of cold," Duke said. "See if they'll back off." I nodded, pointed the nozzle at the space between us and the forward bunnydogs. I touched the trigger briefly, lightly-and released a whoosh of powdery cold into the air.

The bunnies leapt back away from it, startled and chitteringbut they didn't panic, and they didn't flee.

They sniffed at the air, wrinkling their noses against the painful coldness of it; then they began to hop forward again, back into position.

"I could freeze a couple of them," I suggested. "But it might not be good for future relations."

Duke considered it. He shook his head. "Maybe a little fire instead." He armed his torch and raised it, deliberately pointing it high

Something caught my eye. "Duke! Wait-" Duke froze where he was.

Something large and dark was moving up through the dust toward us. I knew what it was even before it came out of the murk. So that's why the bunnies had held us here. They were waiting for this.

The worm was Papa-sized. It was five meters long, nearly two meters thick at the shoulder. Its eyes were shuttered against the dust.

And then I saw-

There were bunnydogs riding on top of the beast. The largest was perched on the brain-bump, and steering it with chirps and tugs and slaps. He was a chubby fellow-he looked and acted like a fat little bus driver. There were three other bunnydogs riding farther back on the worm. They looked like tourists. All they needed were cameras. If they hadn't been riding a two-thousand-kilo eating machine, they would have been cute.

The worm flowed to a stop and faced us. It blinked-sputph-wut-and warbled a soft sound. "Trllp?" Then it shuttered its eyes again. It looked like it was dozing.

I looked at Duke. I'd never seen a worm do this before. He looked back at me and shrugged. But he kept his torch at the ready. The bunnydog on top of the worm gobbled something at the bunnies on the ground. They gobbled back. Several of them clambered up onto the back of the worm to confer face-to-face with the newcomers.

Duke lowered his torch, just a little bit. "Jim..." he said. "What are we looking at?"

"I don't know. I'd like to think that the bunnydogs are intelligent, perhaps even the intelligence behind the worms, but-" I said, "it could be the other way around too. The worm could be the intelligence, and the bunnies could be his dog pack. We might be the guests of honor at a fox hunt."

Duke accepted that thoughtfully. "Well, we need to make up our minds fast. One worm we can handle. We can't take on a whole family."

I nodded. "We're going to have to burn our way out, aren't we?" Duke didn't answer. He just shifted the torch in his hands and steadied his stance.

Abruptly, the worm woke up. Its eyes popped open and stared directly at Duke. At the same instant, all the bunnydogs on its back yipped and leapt off. Were they commanding it? Or getting out of its way?

The worm said, "Chtorrrllpp?" It looked questioningly to Duke. It started to slide forward

"No!"

-and Duke fired.

It was the dampness in the air that saved him, I'm sure of that. It was the lingering chill from the liquid nitrogen.

For a moment, the flame hung in the air-then it leapt backward and enveloped him-he didn't even have time to scream-he was a ball of orange fire

It was the dust. It was so fine it didn't just burn-it exploded. It couldn't have been more dangerous if it were powdered hydrogen

I didn't think. I just pointed the freezer at Duke and fired. The flames vanished almost instantly. Great clouds of cold steam whooshed up into the air, crackling and spitting. Duke was somewhere in the center of that.

I had to do it.

If I hadn't, the whole sea of powder would have exploded. It would have been a firestorm. I didn't have a choice.

There was a blackened burned thing standing where Duke had been. It toppled over into the powder--

The bunnydogs were gone-vanished into the bright pink haze. So was the worm-I hadn't even seen it move.

--there was just me and Duke, still crackling in the center of a smoldering black crater.

I started screaming.

"You goddam sonofabitch!" I was already pushing through the ooze toward him. "I told you to wait! Didn't anybody ever tell you about grain elevators? And dust! You stupid asshole!" I pulled his fuel tanks off him and rolled him over on his back. He was still alive. His breath was coming in great rasping wheezes. The 0-mask had protected his face and lungs. He had a chance. Maybe.

I grabbed him by the tank harness, looped one of its belts around my forearm, and started dragging him forward. I couldn't carry him through this powder, but I could drag him. It would have to do. I cursed him every step of the way.

And then I stopped.

The whole world had become a fuzzy pink blur, vague and indistinct. Even the sun was gone. The sky and ground had vanished. There was nothing but pink. I couldn't even see my own hands. If I let go of Duke, I wouldn't even be able to find him again.

I'd heard of whiteouts in the Antarctic-this was worse; this was a California pinkout.

I didn't know where I was.

Worse, I didn't know where the chopper was.