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bayonet to slice through his clothing: down the back and along his
arms and legs. They stripped him naked and collected the ruined
clothing and backed out, carefully, as if he might still be dangerous.
He was alone.
His fear edged over into black rage.
Dangerous? When you can see me as dangerous, then I am
harmless. This hour or this day, this year or next year, you will
lower your guard. By then I will know more.
Wes had missed it all. His oxygen-starved mind had been
fading in and out, catching fragmentary glimpses of alien wonders
while his lungs strained at the dirty air ... as if he were trapped in a
burning theater that was showing  Star Wars . Half-felt forces
pulled him through some kind of strangling barrier into air he could
breathe. His lungs clawed at air that was damp and cool, sweet life-
giving air, while something sharp ran down his torso and arms and
legs, and decidedly queer hands peeled him like an orange.
He was naked. Falling. Spots danced before his eyes.
Where are the others? Is this all of us?
There were other bodies, all naked. Rogachev: white skin
covered with black hair, and bright eyes watching him. Giorge: black
skin, almost hairless, dull eyes that saw nothing. Another fell past
him and bounced against the rubbery wall. Pale skin, joltingly
inhuman shape ... stumps for legs ... Nikolai. There were scars
on Nikolai's belly. Oh, boy, that had been some accident!
Arvid Rogachev and Nikolai talked in Russian. They sounded
indecently calm.
Four. Where were the others?
Giorge was curled loosely in a ball. His mouth was slightly
open. Wes took his shoulder and turned him to bring them face to
face. Giorge's eyes were open, but they weren't looking at
anything. "Giorge? It's all right now. All right for the moment. We're
not in any danger just now. Can you hear me, Giorge?"
Giorge said a word in his own language. Wes couldn't get him
to say any more.
He's nearly catatonic. Wes could understand the temptation. It
would be easy to curl into a fetal position and close his eyes. Easy
but not sensible.
They attacked. Without warning, without talking. Oh, God,
Carlotta saw it all! She must think I'm dead. Or have they told
Earth they have prisoners?
The door opened again. Dmitri Grushin flew among them,
cursing vigorously in a high, hysterical voice. Rogachev snapped
orders: they had to be orders. Grushin blinked and quieted, and
Rogachev's voice went from authoritative to fatherly. Dmitri
nodded.
Now there were five. Seven missing, Including both women.
Arvid Rogachev turned and spoke in English. "You are well,
Congressman?"
Wes tested his throat. "I'd want a doctor's opinion. I'm alive,
but I hurt all over. Bends, probably. How are you?"
"The same. Wes, we have seen men exposed to vacuum
before. We will live. You'll see ruptured veins on your face and body
-"
"Shit, there goes my career."
Arvid laughed. "President Reagan used makeup. So did Nixon."
"You're such a comfort. Arvid, what's going on? I would have -
I did bet my life that conquering another planet across interstellar
space just isn't cost-effective. War of the Worlds. Does it look like
that to you?"
"I like the phrase your computer programmers use. Insufficient
data."
"Is this all of us?"
"I do not know. Dmitri tells me that Captain Greeley is dead.
He saw it, after the aliens had him in tow. An alien moved into
Captain Greeley's chambers, in vacuum, mind you. The door was a
bit small for the alien, and while it was in the doorway Captain
Greeley fired a handgun into the alien, then continued firing
through the wall. He must have been firing through his survival
bubble. The aliens raked the chamber with explosive bullets."
Wes couldn't decide how he felt about that. Too many shocks
... "Sounds like John."
There was a sound, almost subsonic, as if a tremendous gong
had been struck. Wes saw a wall come at him: he was falling! He
struck. They were all piled against the damp padding ... and then
the thrust eased off and left them floating.
"So. We still have some defenses," Arvid said.
"Zapsats?"
"Ground-based beam weapons, I would think. The aliens will
know all about it before we do. At least it tells us we can still fight."
"I wish we had a window," Wes said.
I wish we had a suitcase fission bomb, Arvid thought. Do I? It
would end my life too. That will come soon enough. Patience.
The B-1B flew just above the treetops at near sonic speed.
For a while Jenny looked out the tiny crew windows, but there was
little to see: just shapes flashing past, an occasional light. Most of
the United States was dark.
There was a bright flash off to starboard. Jenny shuddered.
"What?" Jack asked. He touched her hand, then moved his
away. She reached for him and brought his hand back and held it in
both of hers.
"Another dam," she said.
She listened as the artificially calm voice from Colorado Springs
spoke into her earphones. "Spring Lake Dam, near Peoria, Illinois,"
it said. "They've hit most of the dams from there north and west.
Floodwaters are rising all along the Mississippi and Missouri rivers.
We're ordering evacuation, but it won't be in time."
"Isn't there anything else?" The President's voice interrupted
the Air Force talker. "Get the National Guard out with helicopters -"
"Sir, we're trying, but we have almost no communications.
Most of the reports I'm giving you come from direct observation by
Air National Guard pilots flying wherever they see a flash."
We could lose a lot of pilots that way.
"Is there anything more on the Russians?" Jack asked.
"No. Just a lot of damage reports," Jenny answered.
"Then we don't even know if we're at war?"
Jenny gave a short laugh. "We're at war all right. We just
don't know who with -"
"Could the aliens be allied with the Russians?"
"Don't know. I don't think so," Jenny said. "I'm sure we'd have
heard if they were in communication. We'd have heard something. I
think -"
"Yeah." He leaned back in the bombardier's seat and closed his
eyes. In seconds he was asleep.
Jenny shook her head in admiration. Nothing for Jack
Clybourne to do, so he rests up for the next assignment. I wish
the President would do that. There's not enough information for
him to make any decisions, not here.
I wish I could do it.
The reports continued. Missiles launched against the smaller
alien ships. The large alien ship remained invisible behind a screen of
noise, charged particles, and chaff. No confirmation of any Soviet
missile landing in the United States, and no confirmation of any
cities destroyed.
Jenny leaned back in the electronic warfare officer's seat and
tried to close her eyes, but the temptation to look out the window
was too much. The thick leaded glass would shield her eyes from
anything that wouldn't kill her ...
The bomber flew on toward Colorado Springs.
The steps of the bank were cold and damp. Harry settled as
near the door as he could reach, and turned on the transistor
radio.
"Power failures throughout Southern California," the
announcer was saying. He sounded nearly hysterical. "We have
reports thai something hit Hoover Dam. Laser beams, for God's
sake!"
The long blue flame sank into the east. Harry settled against
the bank door. He thought of what else he could do. Steal a car.
Steal a motorcycle. Break into the shop and steal his own
motorcycle: Any of that might work, but it might not.
I'm not as quick as I used to be.
He tried to think of someone who'd help him, but anyone
who'd believe him either wouldn't be any use, or would already be
doing something. After a while he closed his eyes and slept a little.
He woke again when someone moved in beside him: a small,
pudgy man who puffed from his climb up the steps. He settled on
the step below Harry. "Mind?"
"No," Harry said. "Did you see the sky? Or the news?"
"Both. The TV's gone off, though. One of the radio people
keeps saying it's all a big mistake, but I can't get through to New
York."
Sure can't. Or to Dighton, Kansas. Harry nodded, The pudgy [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]