Roberts slid out of the bunk, performed a series of exercises to the computer’s satisfaction, shaved, showered, dressed, ate an A-ration bar, drank two glasses of water, swung the suit of battle armor out on its sling, got into it, and headed for the hatch.
Roberts had the hatch up, and had already pulled himself halfway out, before he saw what was going on outside.
Three huge mottled-gray cats were working on the remains of several gigantic bony-snouted creatures, tearing the meat off the bones in chunks, and wrestling with sheets of tough fibrous membrane that apparently separated one huge bundle of muscle fiber from another.
Creeping in on the cats, apparently for a quick grab at a chunk of the meat, was a long many-legged segmented green creature with jaws about three feet long.
Overhead, light-blue against a sky that was a darker blue with drifting white clouds, huge birds circled, the dark green of their upper feathers showing from time to time as they dipped, eyeing a behemoth with a suggestively flicking sledgehammer tail, that was upright on two pillarlike hind legs beside the space yacht. The head and shoulders of this beast were inside the yacht, the big door of the space yacht being buckled outward, and the side inward, to make room.
Studying the other animals with cold calculating gaze from the foliage of a nearby thorn tree, was a large snaky head.
Roberts dropped back inside the patrol ship, and slammed the hatch.
The voice of the symbiotic computer spoke from the helmet’s earphones.
“For an armored member of the Interstellar Patrol to retreat in the face of mere beasts, with onlookers watching from another ship, is unacceptable.”
“To do anything else would be nuts. And as I’ve explained at least a dozen times, I’m not a member of the Interstellar Patrol.”
“Evidently you’ve neglected to study your ‘Model A-6 Battle-Suit Dynamics.’ A demonstration is in order. Press down the chin-lever in the left side of the helmet.”
Roberts, not wanting to pointlessly antagonize the computer, pressed down the lever. He immediately found himself walking toward the hatch. Before he knew what had happened, he’d thrown the hatch open, and was climbing out.
The three gigantic cats looked up from their meal and bared their teeth. The green many-legged creature swung its yard-long jaws around and hissed. In the thorn tree, the snaky eyes looked on with cold calculation.
Roberts dropped off the curving side of the ship, his feet sinking deeper into the soil at every step, as if the suit were acquiring mass as it moved forward. He was headed straight for the green many-legged creature.
After a moment’s startled hesitation, this beast opened up its yard-long, four-foot-wide jaws, and lunged for Roberts.
Roberts’ right foot came up in a kick that left a ten-inch-wide groove in the soil, hit the creature’s lower jaw and shut it with a CLACK! that echoed around the clearing.
His right hand then reached out, seized the top of the creature’s snout, and yanked it down, cracking its nose into the ground.
The three huge cats began edging back toward the forest.
* * *
All the many legs of the green creature now began to kick, but Roberts set his feet, turned the whole head over sidewise, pinned the upper swell of the head under the right arm of his suit, and gripping the forward curve of the snout with his left arm, heaved the head of the monster along with him as he started for the space yacht. Behind him, the rest of the beast lifted clear of the ground, like one cable of a suspension bridge, the far end anchored out of sight somewhere back in the forest.
Roberts kept going for the space yacht, his feet sinking as if he were in soft muck.
Behind him, there was a heavy rending, a loud creak, successive cracking, straining noises, then the rustling and swishing of uncounted leafy branches, followed by the ground-shaking crash of a big tree.
The far end of the many-legged creature suddenly was trotting along, stumbling and lurching as it crossed ground not selected by the head end, so that some of its feet went down into holes while others banged into rotting logs and low hillocks, but the creature did its best, and stopped instantaneously when Roberts stopped, beside the gray pillarlike leg of the behemoth that had its shoulders and snout inside the space yacht, and its huge sledgehammer-like tail swishing threateningly behind it.
Roberts unhesitatingly reached up, gripped one of the tail’s muscular cords, that stood out like tree roots, and yanked on it.
The upper end of the creature froze. There was a menacing rumble. The tail wrenched, twisted, and couldn’t get free. The head and shoulders of the behemoth jerked back and out of the space yacht. Roberts gripped the tail. The animal tried without success to step back to get its balance, but Roberts held the tail while his body blocked the right rear leg.
Ponderously, stamping hard with its left leg to try to right itself, the creature tipped over, to land full-length with a shock that jarred the earth.
Overhead, in the thorn tree, a little flutter of leaves marked the departure of the snake.
The behemoth lay still for a moment, in shock, then sucked in a huge breath of air, let out a ringing high-pitched bellow, rolled over, twisting its tail loose at the expense of a large chunk of skin, and staggered to its feet.
Roberts took a few steps, bent, shoved his armored left hand through the dirt under the behemoth’s left hind foot, and heaved it up.
Roberts himself sank into the soil as if it were quicksand, but the behemoth’s left hind leg shot high up into the air, and the whole creature went up and over on its back with a jar that made the trees sway.
The many-legged creature again had its nose pinned to the earth, this time because Roberts was down inside a form-fitting foxhole in the soil, but was still absently holding onto the many-legged creature with his right hand. For its part, it kept its eyes shut, its mouth closed, and just waited to see what Roberts wanted it to do next.
Roberts pulled himself up out of the ground.
The behemoth staggered to its feet, gave a pitiful bleat, and bolted for the forest.
Roberts let go the head of the many-legged creature, its eyes came warily half-open, and with steadily gathering speed, it headed for the forest.
Roberts looked around, saw the clearing was deserted, and climbed up the handholds into the space yacht.
* * *
Inside, Hammell and Morrissey stared at him as he climbed out of the battle armor. The suit having done practically all the work, Roberts was just slightly damp with perspiration.
Hammell and Morrissey, on the other hand, looked like they’d spent the night being bounced around in an oversize tin can. Which, Roberts thought, was probably exactly what had happened.
“Well,” he said, “are you guys sure you don’t want to come over to the patrol ship?”
Hammell stared at the armor, and said hesitantly, “Ah—No offense, but—Look, was it your idea to just go out there and kick those monsters around?”
“No,” said Roberts frankly, “the symbiotic computer on the patrol ship got the idea, and it . . . well . . . made the initial suggestion.”
“Ah. And so you—”
“Naturally,” said Roberts, standing the battle armor against a bulkhead, “when the symbiotic computer is unhappy, the ship isn’t worth living in. I have to extend myself a little now and then to keep the symbiotic computer happy.”
Morrissey glanced out into the clearing where the huge dead carcasses were lying around, swallowed hard, and said nothing.
“We’ll stay here,” said Hammell firmly.
Roberts shrugged exasperatedly. “Suit yourself.”
They went over to the spy screen, and as they turned it on, a dazzling flash loomed out through an unfocused scene of grayness and glowing smoke, and when Roberts adjusted the focus, a nightmarish barren landscape came into view, with running figures briefly glimpsed in the distance.
Roberts glanced at the locator screen, and realized that he had a view of the dump they’d watched earlier. He frowned at it for a moment, then said, “Let’s see the streets adjoining this.”
Morrissey changed the setting, and in quick succession Roberts saw views of four different streets. On all of them, there were overturned roboid policemen, being taken apart by humans using tools apparently improvised from the axles, shafts, and cover plates of other roboid policemen.
On the streets, leading toward the center of the city, little groups of men and boys went past, alternately running and walking, carrying guns, short lengths of pipe, and heavy axles sharpened on one end to a needle point. Other groups of men carried buckets and still others carried garbage cans slung on pairs of long pipes.