Part 12 (2/2)
”Cut the chatter!” the general snapped. ”I hear the airlock. Are you ready to give this thing the jolt of its life?”
”Of course I am. The calculations are relatively minor. I would recommend the three of you stand at least arm's length from one another on three different pieces of deck plating, if you will.
And please don't touch one another or anything else, or move until I tell you.”
They waited, not knowing what to expect.
”Millard?”
”What?”
”Would it make any difference that the lizards' s.h.i.+p is currently closing in and locking on to us with gunnery sighting lasers at this very minute?”
”WHAT?”.
”I said, would it make any difference that-”
”I heard that! You mean they're going to shoot us?”
”It is difficult for me to fathom the intent of an alien species, considering how difficult it is just to fathom yours, and my communications circuits are still messed up, thanks to the alien now approaching us, but if I had to hazard a guess, I'd say yes, they're going to shoot us.”
”How long until they can fire?” the general put in.
”Two minutes, give or take.”
”Then fry the b.a.s.t.a.r.d first!”
At that moment, the Pel Torro, with Pierce and Arro aboard, entered the control room unseen, and found their way inside the head of the android, Frank Poole. ”Hey, guys,” said the android, ”I know this is kind of a tense moment, but would anyone like to play a little gin rummy?”
”Frank?” Pierce cried in confused puzzlement.
”I see that you have all escaped your bonds,” said Commodore Pierce through the android's mouth. ”I can understand much now about your races, but I must confess that I haven't the slightest idea why all three of you, upon escaping, should shed your clothing and stand there like that.”
Millard Fillmore Pierce just stared at Frank Poole. A terrible energy creature, he thought. An alien s.h.i.+p about to blast us into kingdom come. And we're standing here stark naked, depending on, of all things, an XB-223 navigational computer to get us at least a temporary reprieve. This is it. This is simply as bad as things could possibly get. We can't even move, and I have to go to the bathroom bad.
”Most interesting,” the XB-223 commented, more to itself than to the others. ”A totally unique form of energyin my experience, although I'm just an XB-223 navigational computer . . .”
Pierce could only think of the great alien s.h.i.+p now lining up its sights on them. He frantically wished the computer would get it over with.
Frank Poole stepped forward on the control room deck plating, heading toward the human Pierce but looking from one to the other of them. The gasbag Pierce didn't like this inexplicable situation at all, and he was wary.
”They're standing in a triangle, sir,” said Arro.
”I see that,” snapped Pierce. ”They're up to some-thing. The flat flesh-creature is standing at the point, with the well-sacced flesh-creature to his right and behind him, and the green-scaled creature to his left rear. I will take another two steps closer.”
The computer continued its nattering. ”I think I've got the proper voltage and polarity worked out,” the computer said, again mostly to itself, ”but, then, nothing is certain when dealing with such a novel energy form. Still, there's nothing really to be lost by trying it, considering we're all going to be atomized anyway in about seventy seconds. So-”
The lights flickered and went out. Great leaps of lightning, like a miniature electrical storm, kept the cabin alit in a strobelike fantasy. The computer, retaining only enough energy to keep itself powered, drew all of its energy reserves from throughout the s.h.i.+p, channeled that surge through circuitry in the deck plates ill-designed and equipped for such a load, and poured it all into the soles of Frank Poole's boots.
The Proteans were suddenly struck a blow like that of an energy sledgehammer. Frank Poole gave a startled cry and pitched into Pierce, who suddenly felt a terrible, weirdly pleasurable pain in every cell of his body. He felt as if he were melting, and he collapsed crazily into Marshmallow, who, drawn forward into the energy vortex, thrashed and flailed and toppled onto the general, who in turn struck the deck itself. All four forms writhed for a moment, bathed in a blue-white energy glow, which reached into the totality of the control room itself, far into the complex circuitry of the XB-223. The computer felt a similar wrenching sensation and quickly shut down, restoring power to normal and automatic functions.
”Shoot, d.a.m.n you!” screamed General Geronimo Custer. ”Why don't you shoot!”
The gunnery officer looked apologetic. ”Sorry, sir. Give me three or four minutes more.”
”Three or four minutes more! What for?”
”They're rus.h.i.+ng the paperwork through as quickly as they can.”
”What? Why do you need forms to shoot? What would happen if we were under attack now?”
”Oh, well, then Section 666 1/2B of the Gunnery Code Manual, Volume 49, latest revision, states that we could shoot first and fill out forms later. But it's been judged that this is not a Cla.s.s I emergency of that type, and so, being only a Cla.s.s II-and a Cla.s.s IIC at that-it'll take a couple of minutes. Patience, sir! They aren't going anywhere.”
General Geronimo Custer looked to heaven.
Consciousness returned rapidly to those on the deck of the Pete Rozelle, but they all felt an almost total numbness. One by one they picked themselves up.
We've failed, the human Pierce thought glumly. It's incredible we weren't all electrocuted. Or would that havebeen the kinder thing? That s.h.i.+p's gonna fire any minute now. So things can get worse. At least I don't have to go to the bathroom anymore.
Vision returned, and he got groggily to his feet. The others did the same, with the exception of Frank Poole. The android had obviously dealt his last hand.
The lights were dim and intermittent, there seemed to be small electrical fires all around, and there was the overpowering odor of ozone in the air.
Pierce looked around to see how the others were. The general seemed dazed but all right, and so did--Wait a minute there!
He looked frantically for Marshmallow and didn't see her, and then he looked more closely and found her, all right.
He also found that things could still get a lot worse. And they most certainly had.
A thin, reedy, electronic voice came from Frank Poole. He hadn't been totally destroyed after all. ”I can't move! I'm trapped in this worthless android! And you've all become giants, or I've shrunk!”
The lizard general got weakly to his feet. ”Well, ah sweah! Ah feel all funny and crazy!” It looked around, spotted another form, and stared, goggle-eyed. ”Wait a dad-blamed minute, sugah! What am ah doin' over theah. when ah'm heah?”
”When we all touched during that charge we must have been connected somehow,” Pierce guessed. ”I don't understand it, but it happened.” He shook his head in wonderment, feeling the unusual brush of long hair against his bare shoulders. ”I'm Millard. I got shoved somehow into your body, Marshmallow. And you got shoved into the general's. And . . . ?” They both looked at the still form of the android on the floor.
”I'm General Pierce, you idiot!” came Frank Poole's grating, mechanical voice.
All three then looked at the form of the human Millard Fillmore Pierce, who'd stood up and was now looking around in bewilderment and wonder.
”And he must be the thing!” cried the general.
The form of Millard Pierce stared at them. Finally, it said, ”Thing indeed! I'll have you know I'm an XB-223 navigational computer!”
Pierce gulped. ”You're the computer? Then tell us what happened? And where's the energy creature?”
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