Everywhere, the landscape was dotted with huts-there were gumdrops everywhere-of all sizes! Most of them were small, one-family igloos. Many of them had corrals. I could see things in them, but I wasn't sure what. A few of the domes were clustered like berries to make larger structures. Streaks of gray mist clung to the ground, threaded between the huts and corrals. I wondered what it was.
Closer now, I could see orange and red and pink and purple blobs of fur. They were all moving toward us, streaking and screaming. I could hear them even over the chopper's roar. I saw humans running too!
The chopper lurched then-we bounced sideways, then up, and back, down and across
"What the-?"
"Hang on! I told you it'd be bumpy!"
Something was flashing orange beneath and behind us. I could feel the missiles firing from the wings of the chopper. The whole ship clanged every time one went off. We rang like the inside of a bell! We were headed directly toward the center of the Chtorran infestation-toward a huge, high, half-spherical dome. It was the mother of them all!
I pointed and shouted.
"I see it!" she screamed back. She was already firing. Two silver needles streaked out and ahead of us, leaving thready trails of white smoke. They angled forward directly toward the dome and entered it--
For the briefest of instants nothing happened.
Then the dome exploded with fur! The walls came apart in a thousand places as Chtorrans flung themselves outward! Red and yellow and orange and crimson and purple and pink and white and magenta and gray and a thousand other shades of fur! Too many of them! Too many colors!
And then the missiles actually went off! There were double fireballs-and then there was just one, climbing brightly into the sky. Streaks of phosphorus arced outward. I could feel the heat.
The chopper shuddered as the force of the blast hit us. We were already pulling up and leaning sideways into a turn toward the south end of the valley where it opened out onto a plain. The chopper jerked and bumped and bounced. Things were still roaring behind us.
There were more huts ahead of us-even more huts! Was there no end to this encampment? Lizard fired two more missiles toward another thick cluster of domes. She left the rest for the computer. I wished I had a window to look behind us. All I could see out of Lizard's side of the cockpit was a tower of black smoke. Something started beeping loudly.
Lizard said, "Shit!" and hit the panic button.
Something went Ka-BANG! behind us. Something else went THUMP! Then a whole lot of things released from the chopper all at once, and the jets cut in. We punched up into the air so fast the breath was knocked out of me. A wall of force slammed me deep down into my seat. I couldn't inhale. What the hell was this? Three gees? Five?
The air around us turned orange. And then it got even brighter.
A giant hand was pushing the chopper upward. We were buffeting in the air. I had the sense that the ground was sparkling with a thousand firework explosions, but that wasn't what was hurling us into the sky.
Lizard grabbed her controls and peeled us off sideways. For a moment, I had the feeling we were upside down-then we were plunging south and upward and leaving a column of burning air behind us.
"What happened?"
"They fired on us!"
"They what?"
"Ground-to-air missiles. Vipers probably. We nearly took one up the tail. We caught the rest before they got close. I did a no-no," she said. "I blew up every piece of ordnance in the camp." She pointed back. "Look how much they had."
I had to lean forward to peer past her. In the distance, almost on the horizon now, I could see the thick black pillar of smoke that marked the worm camp. There were still explosions going off in it. It was speckled with bright places. There were orange flames everywhere.
"Shit," she said.
"What's the matter? You did it! The mission was a success! You blew up the whole camp!"
She shook her head. She flipped up her goggle plate and wiped her eyes. "No, I didn't. You saw the size of it. I only cut a chunk out one edge. We didn't even get near the thickest part. I veered off when I knew we wouldn't have enough bombs. In a month, that camp will be bigger than ever. They'll have rebuilt everything we destroyed tonight. They're getting too big for us, Jim. Denver isn't going to like this."
"That wasn't the center of the infestation?"
"That wasn't even a suburb. That was an outlying village."
"Uh-"
"You know what this means, don't you?" I shook my head.
"We're going to have to use nukes."
58
The Theatre of War
"When you transcend the medium, you have achieved art."
- SOLOMON SHORT
I climbed the ramp and stopped, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the darkness.
There was a man with a clipboard at the top. He peered at my name badge with a pocket-light. "McCarthy," he said. "You're late." He looked annoyed.
"Sorry," I mumbled.
He ignored the apology. "Sit there." He pointed at a rear row. I nodded and went. The theatre was round and shaped like a wide bowl resting on a forty-five degree angle; there were seats mounted up its entire face. My row was high on the upper curve. A second and larger bowl enveloped the first-that was the screen. The audience would be peering into a 360 degree bubble of light and sound. Up, down, right, left; the entire field of human vision would be filled.
Right now, though, it was muted to a dim pearlescent glow. It had just enough luminance to delineate itself as a screen, but not cnough to illuminate the theatre itself. The effect was like twilight. There was light above us, but we remained in the dark. As I climbed I glanced to the rows of seats above me, but I wouldn't make out any faces.
My row was empty, so I moved to a center seat. The chair was high-backed and comfortable looking. As I sat down it adjusted to my body. I leaned back and the chair leaned with me. It could both rock and swivel. The occupant could turn to look at any part of the screen, including the ceiling, and do it comfortably. I let myself relax into it and a soft voice began to whisper in my ear, "Here is the agenda for today's briefing. First we will see the tapes of this morning's Colorado overrflight, with commentary by the pilot, Colonel Elizabeth Tirelli. That will be followed by . . ."
"Cancel," I said. The voice shut up.
I leaned forward, surveying the seats below me in the bowl. Some were empty. Most were filled with grim military types. Too many brass buttons. I didn't see anyone I recognized. I leaned back again.
Five people were filing down to the center of the room to fill up the last empty seats there. One of them was Colonel Tirelli. Another was the Japanese lady I had met on my first trip to Denver. Who was she anyway? I didn't see the dark fellow with her, the one from the same trip. I recognized two of the others with her though. The tall man was the secretary of defense. And, of course, I recognized the president.
Lizard had been right. This was serious business. I wondered why I was here.
As soon as everyone was settled, the Japanese lady signalled to the officer with the clipboard. The theatre doors were closed and the screen came to life.
First we heard the sound of the chopper. It was so realistic I looked up. Overhead was the outline of the gunship. Those cameras were wide-angle! We were looking up at the underside of the cockpit.