David Gerrold: A Day for Damnation

Around me, I saw that the other worms were watching us. So were the other humans; they remained scattered across the otherwise empty circle. But the bunnydogs had completely forgotten about us, they were so engrossed in grooming the worms. The activity was almost sexual. Many of the bunnies had climbed on top of the big red monsters. Two of the bunnies even appeared to be ... copulating? No. I must have been misreading the behavior. The air was cold on my body. I could feel the worm poking at my buttocks. I said, "It feels like a medical inspection-"

Barnes giggled nervously. "It looks like a meat inspection. My uncle used to be in livestock and-"

Fletcher jabbed him sharply in the ribs. "Don't bring that into this circle."

Abruptly, the worm grabbed one of my feet and yanked, lifting me upside down. I managed to holler, "Hey-!" Then the worm goggled its eyes sideways at me as if to ask, "Yes?" And then it resumed studying my foot with its giant eyes. It poked and stroked, and once even drew one dark finger across the soft flesh of my arch. I couldn't help it, I started giggling.

The worm grabbed one of my hands and lifted it up beside my foot. It was comparing.

"It's intelligent! It has to be!" I was still hanging upside down. "Do you see what it's doing?"

Abruptly, the worm let go of me. I tumbled back to the grass. I climbed back to my feet, grinning. "You ought to ask first," I said to the worm.

It blinked at me.

I said, "I know this doesn't make sense, but I'm actually beginning to feel ... friendly... toward these creatures."

The worm lifted its arms high then. A stretch? Its mouth opened in front of me. I squatted to my knees and peered in. Huge. Dark. And it smelled awful.

But I was grinning. I was the first human being on the planet to look into a worm's mouth without being pushed. I was actually feeling cocky-

-that's what saved my life.

I was turning around to look back toward the domes, I was about to say something stupid, when one of the bunnydogs let out a yelp-a yelp cut suddenly short.

I turned and saw--

One of the worms just crunching a bunny into its mouth.

I turned back toward the worm I'd been with-it was just rising up into an attack position

I stabbed a finger at it and commanded, "No!" I didn't know what I was doing, I just bellowed, "That's very bad manners!" The worm hesitated.

"Down!" I shouted. And pointed. "Down!" The worm came down.

It looked confused.

I started backing away. "Get ready to scramble!" I said quietly. I glanced behind me. Barnes had dropped into a karate positiona cat stance. The others were backing away slowly. Fletcher's eyes were wide. She looked ready to bolt. "Slowly ... !" I commanded. "Don't break... !"

The worm started to follow me. It started to flow after me. I pointed at it and said, "No! Stay!"

It worked. And then-another bunnydog yelped. Another worm was feeding.

And then another, and another-the air was suddenly filled with yelping!

The worm moved

I broke sideways-I ran for Fletcher, leaping and knocking her flat to the grass.

Something purple chirruped behind us. Something roared close over our heads and exploded! The blast blew us sideways-we bounced against a furry wall-Fletcher gasped and started screaming! I rolled her over on her belly, rolled on top of her--

More explosions-the blast slammed into us-a wall of heatLarson was screaming-Barnes was shrieking-

There were flames--

-and pulled Fletcher to her feet and ran, scrambling toward the chopper. A worm was burning. Something small and pink and flaming rocketed past us. Another worm was skidding, turning toward us

The dome was already exploding off the chopper-the door was open-a man was on the ground before it, firing past us! I saw the streaks of incendiary bullets.

The door was open. We pounded up into it-past the man with the rifle-he gasped as something grabbed him-and then we were airborne-the open door looked down on Hell-backside.

I WENT to see Duke.

He looked better. And he looked worse. The bitterness was obvious now. When I sat down next to his bed, he turned his head away from me.

I said, "I won't stay long. I came to deliver something." He still didn't look at me.

I waited till the nurse was out of the room. I said, "I don't know how you're going to hide it Duke, or where-but... well, here." I slipped the grenade into his hand. His one remaining hand. The grenade was small but lethal. It would do the job.

Duke didn't move. The grenade sat in his hand like a rock. Had I made a mistake? Had I reminded him again of his own fear?

Perhaps I should just go. Duke turned his head.

The hand with the grenade lifted up as if it had a life of its own. It carried the grenade painfully upward to where Duke's eyes could focus on it. They blinked and cleared and looked at the grenade dispassionately. The hand turned the grenade over and over. The thumb found the safety catch.

Duke's mouth opened. The hand brought the grenade forward so he could grab the ring with his teeth. Was he going to detonate it now?!

No. He wasn't. He let go of the ring. He was just testing the feel of it. He looked at the grenade again, and there was just the slightest hint of a smile on his face.

And then the hand holding the grenade disappeared beneath the covers.

Duke still hadn't looked at me. Still hadn't met my eyes.

I waited, but he turned his head away again, toward the wall. Not even a thank you.

It was all right. He knew. There was no better way. After a while, I got up and left.

That was the last time that I saw Duke.

DAVID GERROLD began his science fiction career in 1967, as a writer for Star Trek. His first sale was the episode entitled "The Trouble with Tribbles," one of the most popular episodes in the show's history. Gerrold later wrote two nonfiction books about Star Trek: The World of Star Trek, the first in-depth analysis of the show, and The Trouble with Tribbles, in which he shared his personal experiences with the series. Gerrold has since written many other TV scripts, including episodes of Logan's Run, Land of the Lost, and the Star Trek animated TV series. He has served as story editor for Land of the Lost and Buck Rogers.

Gerrold is also a well-established science fiction novelist. His bestknown works are When Harlie Was One and The Man Who Folded Himself, both of which were nominated for the Hugo and Nebula awards. He's published eight other novels, five anthologies, and a short story collection. In 1979, he won the Skylark Award for imaginative fiction.

David Gerrold is forty years old and lives in Los Angeles with three peculiar dogs, two and a half cats, a computer with delusions of sentience, and a butterscotch convertible. Gerrold is a skilled programmer and contributes occasionally to Creative Computing, Infoworld, and other home-computing periodicals. He also writes a monthly column on science fiction for Starlog magazine.

Gerrold is currently at work on Book Three of The War Against the Chtorr: A Rage for Revenge.