Three hands went up.
"I thought so. Morwood, you had your hand up first. Do you want to blow McCarthy's brains out?"
Morwood stood up, grinning. "Sure. I never liked him anyway."
Foreman looked sideways at me. "You want to notice, McCarthy, Morwood has an excellent justification." He turned back to Morwood. "Justification is what we use to avoid being totally responsible for our actions. Sit down, Morwood. You're enjoying this too much." Foreman pointed to a black man. "Washburn?"
Washburn nodded. "I'll do it."
"Why?"
"Why not? Washburn shrugged. "You say it has to be done. Somebody's got to do it. I'll do it."
"Interesting," said Foreman. "Remain standing." Foreman pointed to the angry-looking woman. "Takeda?"
"What if I take the gun and shoot you?" she asked. "Would that end this silliness?"
"No, it wouldn't," answered Foreman. "Miller, the Course Manager would take over and the process would continue. You can sit down. I'm interested enough in my own survival that I don't feel like testing your ability to follow instructions." There was a little laughter at Foreman's candid admission. "All right, Washburn. Come on up and take Marisov's place."
Foreman turned back to me again. "You see, James, the universe has no shortage of executioners." He stopped and studied me. "Okay, what's going on with you? It's all over your face. What's that about?"
"You lying, supercilious, manipulative, cock-sucking, shit-eating, morphodite!" I exploded. "You asshole! You motherfucker! You know what I've been through! You know this isn't fair! You made promises to me! Your promises are worthless! You want us to keep our word, but you can't keep yours! You're a goddamn, lawyer-loving liar! You make Jason Delandro look like a fucking saint! If I had the gun, I'd kill you! You scum-sucking, son of a bitch! You-you . . .!!" I stopped only for breath, and only because I couldn't think of anything else to call him.
Foreman was still grinning at me. He. shared his grin with the room. "Now," he said. "Now, we're at anger."
26
Atascadero
"If this be reason, make the most of it."
-SOLOMON SHORT
There were fourteen domes, two rows of seven out of shelterfoam, and enclosed by the familiar chain link fence. The gate was locked. A sign on the gate said
UNITED STATES ARMY
EMERGENCY SUPPLY DEPOT #CA-145
WARNING: NO TRESPASSING PATROLLED BY ROBOTS
Jason looked at the sign with interest. "What are the robots armed with, Jim?"
"If they're standard, then they'll have modified 280's. They might also have rockets and grenades. If they have a working service bay, they're getting regular maintenance. They could be trouble. "
Jason nodded. He looked to George, "What do you say, George?"
George rumbled, "Jim speaks true."
"All right," Jason made a decision. "Have everybody move back. We'll blow the fence and see who comes running. Let's have Falstaff and Orson be the welcoming committee."
George said, "If the robots have grenades or torches, we could lose them. Or if they've been programmed to aim for the soft spot at the base of the eyestalks."
Jason nodded. He looked at George. "Do you have a better idea?"
"No. I just want you to be aware of the possible consequences."
"Thanks," Jason sounded annoyed. He nodded to Marcie. "Blow up the gate."
She nodded back and began unpacking her explosives.
Jason walked over to the truck with Falstaff and Orson in it. He chirruped, and they poured out of the truck and meatloafed up in front of him. Orrie flowed over too.
"All right, boys," Jason said. He began to talk to them. He used English sentences, interspersed with chirps and signs and gestures. The Chtorrans bobbled their eyes.
Marcie had six gobbets of plastic explosive. She stuck them to the hinges of the gate and its base. She stuck a tiny radio-detonator into each glob. "All right," she waved. "Everybody move back."
George came up carrying two rocket launchers. He handed one to me. "When the robots come, try to take them out before they can do anything to the worms."
"No problem."
George moved off a bit and began setting up. I did likewise. Marcie stepped toward us with a cheery smile. "Everybody ready? Jason?" she called.
Jason nodded, put his hands in his pockets and waited expectantly.
Marcie pulled the detonator out of her pocket and unlocked it. She punched in a code number, then looked around one last time. "You might want to hold your ears," she warned. "Three . . . two . . . one." She pressed the last button.
The gate exploded inward, toppling flat on the ground. Almost immediately, an alarm went off and six flat rolling tanks came bursting out of two nearby domes. Their laser beams whirled and pointed. They focused on Marcie, on George, on me, on the Chtorrans-but they didn't fire. They wouldn't fire unless we entered the fence. We had maybe thirty minutes before the choppers arrived. If that.
We'd picked this base because there was an empty warehouse nearby. We'd be gone in twenty minutes and hidden in the warehouse by the time the choppers were overhead.
If necessary, we could take the choppers out. We had twelve ground-to-air missiles, but we didn't want to use them. It was too dangerous to call that much attention to ourselves.
I targeted on the first robot's treads and launched. The explosion toppled the beast and it was helpless. We could finish that one with the torch.
George launched a grenade at the second robot. The explosion rocked the machine, but it remained upright, its turret swiveled and targeted. It began firing back. Immediately, the four remaining robots also began firing at George. He dove into the ditch, gobbets of earth exploding all around him.
The robot turrets swiveled to focus on me. I didn't wait to see if they would fire or not, I dove after George. I was smart. The ground exploded behind me. Apparently, they'd programmed these monsters to be more aggressive in the past few months. The bastards. We were only trying to liberate some supplies. It wasn't like we wanted to kill someone.
Falstaff and Orson flowed into the camp then. The robots twirled their turrets and opened fire on them. Orson shuddered as the laser beam touched the base of his eyestalks, but he raised up in a challenge and took the burst of machine gun fire in the belly. He came down hard on the robot and toppled it. He rolled away, bleeding profusely. I wasn't worried. He came up charging the next robot. Yay, Orson.
Falstaff went banging headfirst into the same robot. I saw the torch nozzle coming out of its side and screamed. We were going to lose both of our attack-trained worms. Orson hit the robot sideways and the flame missed Falstaff by a hair, scorching across his back. Falstaff leapt and pushed on the robot and it toppled like a fat chess piece. Its turret swiveled back and forth, sending a spume of flame arcing across the compound.
The last two robots were trying to shoot at everything in sight, but they were confused by the flames of their fallen comrade. Apparently, they had infrared detectors. I rose up from the ditch and hurled a grenade. George came up beside me and hurled one as well. We threw ourselves flat-
The blast went over our heads, spattering us with clods and rocks, and when we looked up one of the robots was twirling in a circle, its target beam waving drunkenly. The other one was smoking and still. Falstaff came up and toppled it. He had lost half his tail in the blast. He waved his arms and screamed his rage over the fallen robot.
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