Poul Anderson - Operation Chaos

Svartalf trotted from the bar, looking as smug as a cat with singed whiskers is able. He meowed. Ginny gave a shaken laugh and explained:

“But you owe this fellow a pint of cream or something. He may have tipped the scales for you, same as you did for us. At least, he showed me a way to help you.”

I cocked my ears.

“He manned the beer taps,” she said. “I filled pitcher after pitcher and threw them out the door at the salamander. They discommoded it. It shifted around. That may’ve taken the heat off you, and the pressure, till you could manage to use your bite.” She gripped m ruff. “And what an epic that was, those seconds while you clung!”

Beer! I wavered to my feet and back inside Stub’s. They followed me, puzzled until I whined and pointed with my muzzle at the nearest glass. “Oh, I see.” Ginny snapped her fingers. “You’re thirsty. No, you’re dehydrated”

She drew me a quart. I lapped it down in a cataract and signaled for more. She shook her head. “You may have forced the salamander to skip, but we have to deal with it yet. The rest will be plain water.”

My therio metabolism redistributed the fluid and brought me back to complete health. My first truly clear thought was that I hoped no more beer would have to be spent on fighting the elemental. My second was that whatever the means, we’d better apply them soon.

Penalties attach to everything. The trouble with being were is that in the other shape you have, essentially, an animal brain, with a superficial layer of human personality. Or in plain language, as a wolf I’m a rather stupid man. I was only able to realize I’d better reassume the human form . . . so I trotted to the open doorway where the moonlight could touch me, and did.

Ever see a cat grin? “Omigawd!” I yelped, and started to change back.

“Hold on,” said Ginny crisply. “If you must fret about my maidenly modesty, here.” She peeled off her scorched but serviceable fur coat. I doubt if one has ever been donned faster than by me. It was a pretty tight fit around the shoulders but went low enough—if I was careful. Though the night wind nipped my bare shanks, my face was of salamander temperature.

That was one reason I dismissed from among my worries the vision I had had. Another was the immediacy of the peril that confronted us, now and in the flesh. Besides, even more than on the previous occasion, the physical pain which followed the restoration of consciousness had blurred memory of so insubstantial an experience. Finally, I don’t suppose I wanted to think further about it.

The idea flitted through my head: Twice I’ve had a similar illusion while passed out. Maybe I should see a psychiatrist? No, that’d be silly. This can’t be more than an idiosyncratic reaction to a kind of trauma that isn’t likely to hit me again in my life.

I forgot about the matter.

Instead, I asked quickly, “Now where? The damned critter could be anyplace.”

I think it’ll hang around the campus,” Ginny said. “Ample grazing, and it’s not particularly smart. Let’s get moving.”

She fetched her stick from the smoldering barroom and we lifted. “So far,” I said, “we’ve done nothing but waste time.”

“N-no, not entirely. I did get a line on its mind.” We cleared the rooftops and Ginny looked back around at me. “I wasn’t sure of the precise form into which it had been conjured. You can mold the elemental forces into almost anything. But apparently the cheerleader was satisfied to give it a knowledge of English and a rudimentary intelligence. Add to that the volatile nature of Fire, and what have you got? A child.”

“Some child,” I muttered, hugging her coat to me.

“No, no, Steve, this is important. It has all the child’s limiting traits. Improvidence, carelessness, thoughtlessness . . . A wise salamander would lie low, gathering strength slowly. It’d either realize it couldn’t burn the entire planet, or if it didn’t know, would never think of such a thing. Because what would it use for oxygen afterward?

“Remember, too, its fantastic vanity. It went into an insane rage when I said that fires existed more strong and beautiful than it, and crack about beauty hurt as much as the one about strength.

“Short span of attention. It could have destroyed either you first, or Svartalf and me first, before taking care of the minor nuisance the other provided. Instead, it let its efforts be split. And it could have gritted its teeth when you took that mouthful, standing, the pain for the short time needed to weight you down firmly again till you you were dead.” Her voice wavered at that, and she hastened on:

“At the same time, within that short span, if nothing distracts it, it focuses on issue only, to the exclusion of any parts of a larger whole. She nodded thoughtfully. The long blowing hair tickled my face. “I don’t know how, but some way its psychology may provide us with a lever.”

My own vanity is not small. “I wasn’t such a minor, nuisance,” I grumbled.

Ginny smiled and reached to pat my cheek. “Ally right, Steve, all right. I like you just the same, and; now I know you’d make a good husband.”

That left me in a comfortable glow until I wondered precisely what she was thinking of.

We spotted the salamander below us, igniting a theater, but it flicked away as I watched, and a mile off it appeared next to the medical research center. Glass brick doesn’t burn so well. As we neared, I saw it petulantly kick the wall and vanish again. Ignorant and impulsive . . . a child . . . a brat from hell!

Sweeping over the campus, we saw lights in the Administration Building. “Probably that’s become headquarters for our side, said Ginny. “We’d better report.” Svartalf landed us on the Mall in front of the place and strutted ahead up the stairs.

A squad of cops armed with fire extinguishers guarded the door. “Hey, there!” One of them barred our path. “Where you going?”

“To the meeting,” said Ginny, smoothing her tresses.

“Yeah?” The policeman’s eye fell on me. “Really dressed for it, too, aren’t you? Haw, haw, bawl”

I’d had about my limit for this night. I wered and peeled off his own trousers. As he lifted his billy, Ginny turned it into a small boa constrictor. I switched back to human; we left the squad to its problems and went down the hall.

The faculty meeting room was packed. Malzius had summoned every one of his professors. As we entered, I heard his orotund tones: “—disgraceful. The authorities won’t so much as listen to me. Gentlemen, it is for us to vindicate the honor of Gown against Town.” He blinked when Ginny and Svartalf came in, and turned a beautiful Tyrian purple as I followed in the full glory of mink coat and stubbly chin. “ Mister Matuchek!”

“He’s with me,” said Ginny curtly. “We were out fighting the salamander while you sat here.”

“Possibly something other than brawn, even lupine brawn, is required,” smiled Dr. Alan Abercrombie. “I see that Mr. Matuchek lost his pants in a more than vernacular sense.”

Like Malzius, he had changed his wet clothes for the inevitable tweeds. Ginny gave him a cold look. “I thought you were directing the Hydro,” she said.

“Oh, we got enough adepts together to use three water elementals,” he said. “Mechanic’s work. I felt my job was here. We can readily control the fires—”

“If the salamander weren’t always lighting fresh ones,” clipped Ginny. “And each blaze it starts, it gets bigger and stronger, while you sit here looking beautiful.”

“Why, thank you, my dear,” he laughed.

I jammed my teeth together so they hurt. She had actually smiled back at him.

“Order, order!” boomed President Malzius. “Please be seated, Miss Graylock. Have you anything to contribute to the discussion?”