David Gerrold - A Matter for Men

I was fumbling with the safety on my torch; the damn thing seemed frozen. I jerked at it unmercifully.

I glanced up, half expecting to see that crimson fright charging down on me-but no, it was still reared up in the air, half its length. Its fur was standing stiffly out from its body, revealing its skin of deep purple. Abruptly, it came back to ground and lowered its head; its eyes were like black searchlights fixed directly on me. I braced my legs as Shorty had shown me and steadied my flamer-damn! Larry was blocking my shot! He was just pulling the pin on a grenade.

The worm moved then. So did I, sliding sideways to catch it before it could bear down on Larry; he was closest. It turned toward him and streaked across the ground like hot lava, a flowing red silkiness. Stiff-armed he flung the grenade. It arced high-simultaneously, Shorty's flame flicked across that purple and red horror. It exploded in a tongue of orange-and then exploded again as the grenade shattered its writhing form.

There was another explosion in the distance, and then it was all over. Shorty cut off his flamer and its roar became a sigh, then faded out altogether, leaving only the sizzle of burning worm, the insistent crackle of its blackening flesh, and a smell like burning rubber.

Duke came stumbling through the smoke. "Anybody hurt over here?" He gave a wide berth to the still burning carcasses.

Shorty called back. "We're okay. I got 'em both easy." He grinned. "And Larry wasted a grenade."

Larry mock-scowled. "Well, I couldn't wait all day for you." To Duke: "Everybody all right on the other side?"

Duke nodded. "No problem. That worm never had a chance, but I was worried when I saw the other two headed this way."

"Hell, boss, you oughta know better than that," Shorty boomed jovially. "Fact is, Jim here saw how well me and Larry were doing; he decided to take a nap."

Duke's eyes flickered over me. "He better not have," he muttered.

Shorty ignored it. "How big was the one you got?"

Duke shrugged. "About the same as these. Maybe a little bigger."

"How about that," Shorty said, directing it toward me. "We just burned two and a half tons of worm."

Duke said sourly, "We were almost caught by surprise." He turned to Larry. "I thought you said that dome was empty."

"Huh? It was-!" His face looked confused. "You saw that yourself!"

"I didn't inspect it all, Larry-I took your word for it. I only checked for eggs. It was your responsibility to check the other holes."

"I did!" Larry repeated. "They were empty! The Mobe tapes will confirm it!"

Duke narrowed his eyes. "Larry, those worms came charging out of that dome. I saw it myself."

"And I tell you that dome was empty-if it wasn't, you think I'd be standing here now?"

"I can confirm that," I said. They both looked at me. "Remember? I went into the dome too, and I poked my nose into everything. I didn't see any worms."

Duke closed his mouth. He studied his boots for a moment. "All right," he said. "Let's drop it for now." He turned and walked off.

Larry looked at me. "Thanks, kid."

"For what?" I said. "That dome was empty. Duke's gotta be wrong. The worms must have come from the woods."

"Uh uh," said Larry. "If Duke says he saw them come from the dome, then that's where they came from. There was something we missed, Jim-both of us. We haven't heard the end of this."

I shrugged and followed him. We passed between the two crackling worm carcasses toward where Duke and the others were gathering. Larry looked unhappy, so much so that I wanted to say something more to him, but Shorty caught my arm. "Leave him be, Jim. Let him work it out for himself. Larry's that way."

"But it's not his fault-and nobody got hurt."

"But somebody could have been," said Shorty. "It was his responsibility to check out that nest and he thinks he failed. In Larry's eyes, a reprimand from Duke is pretty serious." He added, "If it were me, I'd be feeling that way too."

"Oh," I said. I thought about it. "Okay." Then I remembered. "Oh, I forgot my sample pouch. I dropped it when the excitement started. Wait a minute-" I broke away and started back toward the enclosure.

Shorty nodded. "I'll wait here."

It took only a moment. I dashed around the smoking worms and up to the foot of the ramp. The pack was where I had left it. I scooped it up and hung it on one shoulder, checking the contents as I walked back.

I came around the nest in time to see the biggest worm of all attacking Shorty.

Shorty was just turning toward me, grinning-then there was that chirruping sound, "Chtorrrr! Chtorr!" and a section of the nest wall next to him fell away. A thick, purple-red body streamed out, all mouth and grabbing arms. I couldn't reach my torch! The goddamn pack was in the way! "SHORTY!" Shorty was already turning toward the worm, sudden realization appearing on his face-and then it was on him. He didn't even have time to yell.

I found my hands and I burned them both. I held the torch on them and burned. Bright gouts of flame. Searing tongues of flame. Red and black and orange! Roaring, cleansing fire! I held that trigger firm and squeezed, squeezed and screamed. The flamethrower screamed too. I played it back and forth across the worm long after the thing had ceased to writhe. Then I turned it on the nest and burned that too. I didn't stop until it was completely aflame and the roof had collapsed.

But by then the torch was out of fuel anyway and they had to pry it out of my hands.

WE RODE back in silence. I sat and stared at the sample pouch in my lap and tried not to think of the price Shorty had paid for my stupidity. It was my stupidity, wasn't it? I mean, to carry the pouch like that.

Duke was in the front seat, conferring softly with Hank. I tried not to listen, but the wind kept whipping their words back to me. They were battering at the facts, replaying them over and over again. "That fourth Chtorran-" Duke insisted, "-it shouldn't have been there."

Hank was making noises in response, quacking duck-billed platitudes. "Aww, Duke-we don't know enough about them yet-"

Duke ignored him. "-I thought that shelter looked a little too big-damn Reconnaisance! They're going to hear about this. I should have flashed that damned Mobe, and to hell with the cost."

"Hey, how about the kid-?"

"Huh?"

"He's taking it pretty hard."

"We all are."

"But he's the one who pulled the trigger."

"It's a risk we all have to take," Duke said. "You know that."

Hank glanced back at me. "Still . . ." he said quietly, "it wouldn't hurt to have a word with him . . . or something."

Duke didn't answer for a moment. When he did, his voice was strained. "Damn you, Hank. Just once I want to lick my own wounds first-Shorty was my friend too." He fell silent, then turned away in his seat and stared at the passing hills; they were shadowed in dusk. The clouds were shiny pink against a pale gray horizon.

I pulled my jacket tighter around me. The wind kept slapping at my hair and eyes; it was cold and dusty, and I was miserable, both inside and out. Occasionally, the millipedes would start to move; the bag would squirm uneasily, but a gentle rap with my hand was enough to make them curl up again; three hard little knots the size of cantaloupes.

It was past nine when we got back to base. It had been a boys' camp once, but now it was a makeshift Special Forces base. As the jeeps pulled up in front of the mess hall, men began pouring from its doors. "How was it? How many worms did you get?" Their voices were loud and excited.

Almost immediately, though, they caught our mood, and when Duke said, "Shorty's dead," an uncomfortable silence fell over the group. They followed us into the mess hall where Sergeant Kelly was pouring out coffee in her usual don't-bother-me manner and distributing platters of hot biscuits with businesslike dispatch. I snagged a couple of the biscuits-I could live without Sergeant Kelly's coffee-and faded into a corner. Nobody paid me any attention, for which I was more than grateful.