The War With Earth by Leo Frankowski and Dave Grossman

“It sounds interesting,” I said. “But the apple orchards I remember seeing on Earth wouldn’t make good lumber.”

“That’s because what you saw was something made out of normal fruit trees spliced on top of the roots of a dwarf variety. The dwarf roots keep the trees small, so the fruit is easier to pick. But we’re not going to do any picking. We’re planting full-sized trees, which can grow to forty meters, easy, and we’ll just let the pigs eat the fruit when it falls.”

“Planting that many trees sounds like it would be pretty labor intensive,” I said.

“It is. But we’ve got a free supply of labor.”

“Serbian Prisoners of War?”

“No, nothing that barbaric. Drones. Military surplus drones. You see, there are more kinds of drones than they taught us about in basic training. One sort was intended to replace human infantry in places like city fighting. That’s what they modeled them on, human beings. They’ve got two hands, two arms, and two legs, and all their sensory apparatus is in their heads. They’re as big as a really huge man, and from a distance, you might confuse one with a human being in armor. One of their main advantages was supposed to be that they could use weapons and vehicles already designed for human use. But they’re too small to carry a muon-exchange fusion plant, like the tanks use, so they’re limited to capacitor power, which only gives them about two hours at full output. Furthermore, they are mechanically very complicated, and what with all the linkages and so on, there isn’t much room for computers in there, so these boys are dumb. They can do just fine if they are in constant communication with a tank, but you know that in combat, communications are the first things that go bad. As a military weapon, humanoid drones are pretty much useless, except for guard duty, and there are much cheaper, less complicated drones around for that. Oh, a few are used to guard embassies, and so on, mostly for show. But somehow, a small automatic factory was built to produce them when the Japs had New Kashubia, and it has been turning out one of them every ten hours for the last eleven years, and putting them in storage. Nobody seemed to know that they even existed!”

He stretched, took another drink of beer, and continued.

“But, properly controlled, they can do anything a man can do, and about as fast. They can work twenty-four hours a day, and every day of the year. They don’t slough off, take coffee breaks, or have to stay home with sick relatives. When you figure it out, one drone can do the work of six men, easy, and they work for free. We’ve found that they make real good field hands and household servants, too, if you have a tank around to charge their capacitors and tell them what to do. We bought three hundred of them at scrap metal prices, for planting and tending our trees, and for harvesting the pigs, when the time comes.”

“Quincy, you have just given me about a dozen great ideas for my ranch. Would you mind if I swiped a few of them?”

“Nothing I’m doing is patented, and I’d be honored to have my general following my lead.”

“Uh, yeah. Just between us, in private, let’s not take that ‘general’ stuff too seriously. You’ve seen the movie they made about me?”

“Twice. Let me tell you, it was a real shock to be sitting in a movie theater, and then to see ourselves, or rather our Dream World selves, up there on the big screen. Then we got a bigger shock when we saw ourselves both get killed, and you drive away alive, when the way we remembered it, well, it was you who were dead! It’s amazing how they can splice Dream World into reality. And then that officers’ school! Did you know that Zuzanna and I went through that same school? Taught by the very same Professor Cee? Our only problem was that a week before graduation, our general died of a heart attack, and the rest of us were busted back to Tanker Firsts!”

“He just died?”

“Hey, it happens all the time. Remember that most of the New Kashubians they drafted were pretty old, in their seventies and eighties, a lot of them, the theory being that living in the belly of a tank, you don’t need healthy young bucks. You need seasoned brains, which us oldsters have plenty of.”

“Speaking of you youngsters,” Zuzanna broke in, “Where’s that young bride of yours? If she’s half as smart as she was in the movie, I want to meet her.”

“Kasia’s the brightest girl I’ve ever met, but right now she’s up in our room, organizing the wedding.”

“All by herself? I’ve half a mind to go up there and lend her a hand!”

“I think she might welcome the help. Agnieshka,” I said into my new communicator after I switched it on. “Ask Kasia if she wants the cavalry to come to her rescue, with bugles blowing, banners flapping, and all the sabers flashing bare in the sunlight!”

“I did and she does, boss.” I guessed that she could hear what was going on even when the thing was off. It figured.

“Zuzanna, I think that you may regard that as a formal invitation. Room 634,” I said as she got up and left.

“So, Quincy, where is this big pig and timber ranch of yours?”

“About eight hundred kilometers northeast of here. They haven’t given me a street address, yet.”

“Agnieshka?” I said again into my communicator.

“It’s about thirty kilometers east of your new place, boss. You two are almost next door neighbors.”

“Ah, so you moved up into the War Zone, too.”

“Hush your face, boy. That kind of talk in public can get you called up, stuffed back into a tank, and have all future leaves canceled. Too many important people have too much riding on the present status quo, including us. If this thing blows up wrong, we could lose our land, among other things.”

“I got you. Not that anybody would believe it, anyway,” I said.

“Probably not, but they’re still not taking any chances.”

“Right. So you’ve got a big, box canyon like mine.”

“Smaller, if you’ve got the one I remember from the map. But twelve square kilometers is nothing to kick about, and the canyon walls will keep the pigs in, with only about a kilometer of fencing needed.”

“I’d been thinking of closing off my opening with a lake and a dam. I’ll need a river for drainage, and I’ve been thinking, why not have a lake, too.”

“A fair idea. Of course, with the drip irrigation I’ll be using, you use so little water that drainage won’t start to be a problem for hundreds of years. Say, do you really like this place? The bar, I mean.”

“It’s pleasant enough, and they gave me a free tab here.”

“I think that it’s dull, stuffy, and overly civilized. I also think that we can afford to drink anywhere we want to. Since the girls are otherwise occupied, I know of a place nearby where the music is loud, the drinks are honest, and the women are naked. Are you game?”

“Hey, I’m not married yet! Let’s go!”

“That’s the attitude!”

* * *

The Gold Door Lounge was as advertised, and a roaring good time was had by us.

It was about two in the morning, and we were stumbling a bit as we walked back to the hotel. It had been a long day, and we were both tired, I suppose. We somehow managed to make a few wrong turns on the twisty streets of Nova Split, and ended up in a dark alley.

I leaned against a wall, pulled out my communicator, pressed button number one, and said, “Not to worry, Quincy. Agnieshka will tell us the way home.”

I saw Quincy take a club in the gut a half second before a brick caught me on the side of the head.

I felt myself going down, but Quincy and I had spent a lot of time in Dream World, learning hand-to-hand combat. Well, I did the learning and Quincy did most of the teaching.

I don’t know why, but the world got very quiet, somehow, and everything was moving slowly, almost as if we were at combat speed, in a tank. I had plenty of time to kick one of our assailants in the groin, to feel the flesh squash, and the tendons tear. At the same time I caught a second attacker on the knee cap with the edge of my other foot, and heard it pop, before I hit the ground.

Someone tried to kick me in the face, but I swatted his foot aside and bounced up in time to get a hand around his trachea. I squeezed and yanked, while looking around for the next thug.

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74

Leave a Reply 0

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *