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diff --git a/24966.txt b/24966.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5d7bf82 --- /dev/null +++ b/24966.txt @@ -0,0 +1,872 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Survival Tactics, by Al Sevcik + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Survival Tactics + +Author: Al Sevcik + +Illustrator: Irving Novick + +Release Date: March 30, 2008 [EBook #24966] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SURVIVAL TACTICS *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + SURVIVAL + TACTICS + + By AL SEVCIK + + ILLUSTRATOR NOVICK + + + _The robots were built to serve + Man; to do his work, see to his + comforts, make smooth his way. + Then the robots figured out an + additional service--putting Man + out of his misery._ + + +There was a sudden crash that hung sharply in the air, as if a tree had +been hit by lightning some distance away. Then another. Alan stopped, +puzzled. Two more blasts, quickly together, and the sound of a scream +faintly. + +Frowning, worrying about the sounds, Alan momentarily forgot to watch +his step until his foot suddenly plunged into an ant hill, throwing him +to the jungle floor. "Damn!" He cursed again, for the tenth time, and +stood uncertainly in the dimness. From tall, moss-shrouded trees, +wrist-thick vines hung quietly, scraping the spongy ground like the +tentacles of some monstrous tree-bound octopus. Fitful little plants +grew straggly in the shadows of the mossy trunks, forming a dense +underbrush that made walking difficult. At midday some few of the blue +sun's rays filtered through to the jungle floor, but now, late afternoon +on the planet, the shadows were long and gloomy. + +Alan peered around him at the vine-draped shadows, listening to the soft +rustlings and faint twig-snappings of life in the jungle. Two short, +popping sounds echoed across the stillness, drowned out almost +immediately and silenced by an explosive crash. Alan started, "Blaster +fighting! But it can't be!" + +Suddenly anxious, he slashed a hurried X in one of the trees to mark his +position then turned to follow a line of similar marks back through the +jungle. He tried to run, but vines blocked his way and woody shrubs +caught at his legs, tripping him and holding him back. Then, through +the trees he saw the clearing of the camp site, the temporary home for +the scout ship and the eleven men who, with Alan, were the only humans +on the jungle planet, Waiamea. + + * * * * * + +Stepping through the low shrubbery at the edge of the site, he looked +across the open area to the two temporary structures, the camp +headquarters where the power supplies and the computer were; and the +sleeping quarters. Beyond, nose high, stood the silver scout ship that +had brought the advance exploratory party of scientists and technicians +to Waiamea three days before. Except for a few of the killer robots +rolling slowly around the camp site on their quiet treads, there was no +one about. + +"So, they've finally got those things working." Alan smiled slightly. +"Guess that means I owe Pete a bourbon-and-soda for sure. Anybody who +can build a robot that hunts by homing in on animals' mind impulses ..." +He stepped forward just as a roar of blue flame dissolved the branches +of a tree, barely above his head. + +Without pausing to think, Alan leaped back, and fell sprawling over a +bush just as one of the robots rolled silently up from the right, +lowering its blaster barrel to aim directly at his head. Alan froze. "My +God, Pete built those things wrong!" + +Suddenly a screeching whirlwind of claws and teeth hurled itself from +the smoldering branches and crashed against the robot, clawing insanely +at the antenna and blaster barrel. With an awkward jerk the robot swung +around and fired its blaster, completely dissolving the lower half of +the cat creature which had clung across the barrel. But the back +pressure of the cat's body overloaded the discharge circuits. The robot +started to shake, then clicked sharply as an overload relay snapped and +shorted the blaster cells. The killer turned and rolled back towards the +camp, leaving Alan alone. + +Shakily, Alan crawled a few feet back into the undergrowth where he +could lie and watch the camp, but not himself be seen. Though visibility +didn't make any difference to the robots, he felt safer, somehow, +hidden. He knew now what the shooting sounds had been and why there +hadn't been anyone around the camp site. A charred blob lying in the +grass of the clearing confirmed his hypothesis. His stomach felt sick. + +"I suppose," he muttered to himself, "that Pete assembled these robots +in a batch and then activated them all at once, probably never living to +realize that they're tuned to pick up human brain waves, too. Damn! +Damn!" His eyes blurred and he slammed his fist into the soft earth. + +When he raised his eyes again the jungle was perceptibly darker. +Stealthy rustlings in the shadows grew louder with the setting sun. +Branches snapped unaccountably in the trees overhead and every now and +then leaves or a twig fell softly to the ground, close to where he lay. +Reaching into his jacket, Alan fingered his pocket blaster. He pulled it +out and held it in his right hand. "This pop gun wouldn't even singe a +robot, but it just might stop one of those pumas." + +[Illustration: They said the blast with your name on it would find you +anywhere. This looked like Alan's blast.] + +Slowly Alan looked around, sizing up his situation. Behind him the dark +jungle rustled forbiddingly. He shuddered. "Not a very healthy spot to +spend the night. On the other hand, I certainly can't get to the camp +with a pack of mind-activated mechanical killers running around. If I +can just hold out until morning, when the big ship arrives ... The big +ship! Good Lord, Peggy!" He turned white; oily sweat punctuated his +forehead. Peggy, arriving tomorrow with the other colonists, the wives +and kids! The metal killers, tuned to blast any living flesh, would +murder them the instant they stepped from the ship! + + * * * * * + +A pretty girl, Peggy, the girl he'd married just three weeks ago. He +still couldn't believe it. It was crazy, he supposed, to marry a girl +and then take off for an unknown planet, with her to follow, to try to +create a home in a jungle clearing. Crazy maybe, but Peggy and her green +eyes that changed color with the light, with her soft brown hair, and +her happy smile, had ended thirty years of loneliness and had, at last, +given him a reason for living. "Not to be killed!" Alan unclenched his +fists and wiped his palms, bloody where his fingernails had dug into the +flesh. + +There was a slight creak above him like the protesting of a branch too +heavily laden. Blaster ready, Alan rolled over onto his back. In the +movement, his elbow struck the top of a small earthy mound and he was +instantly engulfed in a swarm of locust-like insects that beat +disgustingly against his eyes and mouth. "Fagh!" Waving his arms before +his face he jumped up and backwards, away from the bugs. As he did so, a +dark shapeless thing plopped from the trees onto the spot where he had +been lying stretched out. Then, like an ambient fungus, it slithered off +into the jungle undergrowth. + +For a split second the jungle stood frozen in a brilliant blue flash, +followed by the sharp report of a blaster. Then another. Alan whirled, +startled. The planet's double moon had risen and he could see a robot +rolling slowly across the clearing in his general direction, blasting +indiscriminately at whatever mind impulses came within its pickup range, +birds, insects, anything. Six or seven others also left the camp +headquarters area and headed for the jungle, each to a slightly +different spot. + +Apparently the robot hadn't sensed him yet, but Alan didn't know what +the effective range of its pickup devices was. He began to slide back +into the jungle. Minutes later, looking back he saw that the machine, +though several hundred yards away, had altered its course and was now +headed directly for him. + +His stomach tightened. Panic. The dank, musty smell of the jungle seemed +for an instant to thicken and choke in his throat. Then he thought of +the big ship landing in the morning, settling down slowly after a lonely +two-week voyage. He thought of a brown-haired girl crowding with the +others to the gangway, eager to embrace the new planet, and the next +instant a charred nothing, unrecognizable, the victim of a design error +or a misplaced wire in a machine. "I have to try," he said aloud. "I +have to try." He moved into the blackness. + +Powerful as a small tank, the killer robot was equipped to crush, slash, +and burn its way through undergrowth. Nevertheless, it was slowed by the +larger trees and the thick, clinging vines, and Alan found that he could +manage to keep ahead of it, barely out of blaster range. Only, the robot +didn't get tired. Alan did. + +The twin moons cast pale, deceptive shadows that wavered and danced +across the jungle floor, hiding debris that tripped him and often sent +him sprawling into the dark. Sharp-edged growths tore at his face and +clothes, and insects attracted by the blood matted against his pants and +shirt. Behind, the robot crashed imperturbably after him, lighting the +night with fitful blaster flashes as some winged or legged life came +within its range. + +There was movement also, in the darkness beside him, scrapings and +rustlings and an occasional low, throaty sound like an angry cat. Alan's +fingers tensed on his pocket blaster. Swift shadowy forms moved quickly +in the shrubs and the growling became suddenly louder. He fired twice, +blindly, into the undergrowth. Sharp screams punctuated the electric +blue discharge as a pack of small feline creatures leaped snarling and +clawing back into the night. + + * * * * * + +Mentally, Alan tried to figure the charge remaining in his blaster. +There wouldn't be much. "Enough for a few more shots, maybe. Why the +devil didn't I load in fresh cells this morning!" + +The robot crashed on, louder now, gaining on the tired human. Legs +aching and bruised, stinging from insect bites, Alan tried to force +himself to run holding his hands in front of him like a child in the +dark. His foot tripped on a barely visible insect hill and a winged +swarm exploded around him. Startled, Alan jerked sideways, crashing his +head against a tree. He clutched at the bark for a second, dazed, then +his knees buckled. His blaster fell into the shadows. + +The robot crashed loudly behind him now. Without stopping to think, Alan +fumbled along the ground after his gun, straining his eyes in the +darkness. He found it just a couple of feet to one side, against the +base of a small bush. Just as his fingers closed upon the barrel his +other hand slipped into something sticky that splashed over his forearm. +He screamed in pain and leaped back, trying frantically to wipe the +clinging, burning blackness off his arm. Patches of black scraped off +onto branches and vines, but the rest spread slowly over his arm as +agonizing as hot acid, or as flesh being ripped away layer by layer. + +Almost blinded by pain, whimpering, Alan stumbled forward. Sharp muscle +spasms shot from his shoulder across his back and chest. Tears streamed +across his cheeks. + +A blue arc slashed at the trees a mere hundred yards behind. He screamed +at the blast. "Damn you, Pete! Damn your robots! Damn, damn ... Oh, +Peggy!" He stepped into emptiness. + +Coolness. Wet. Slowly, washed by the water, the pain began to fall away. +He wanted to lie there forever in the dark, cool, wetness. For ever, and +ever, and ... The air thundered. + +In the dim light he could see the banks of the stream, higher than a +man, muddy and loose. Growing right to the edge of the banks, the jungle +reached out with hairy, disjointed arms as if to snag even the dirty +little stream that passed so timidly through its domain. + +Alan, lying in the mud of the stream bed, felt the earth shake as the +heavy little robot rolled slowly and inexorably towards him. "The Lord +High Executioner," he thought, "in battle dress." He tried to stand but +his legs were almost too weak and his arm felt numb. "I'll drown him," +he said aloud. "I'll drown the Lord High Executioner." He laughed. Then +his mind cleared. He remembered where he was. + + * * * * * + +Alan trembled. For the first time in his life he understood what it was +to live, because for the first time he realized that he would sometime +die. In other times and circumstances he might put it off for a while, +for months or years, but eventually, as now, he would have to watch, +still and helpless, while death came creeping. Then, at thirty, Alan +became a man. + +"Dammit, no law says I have to flame-out _now_!" He forced himself to +rise, forced his legs to stand, struggling painfully in the shin-deep +ooze. He worked his way to the bank and began to dig frenziedly, chest +high, about two feet below the edge. + +His arm where the black thing had been was swollen and tender, but he +forced his hands to dig, dig, dig, cursing and crying to hide the pain, +and biting his lips, ignoring the salty taste of blood. The soft earth +crumbled under his hands until he had a small cave about three feet deep +in the bank. Beyond that the soil was held too tightly by the roots from +above and he had to stop. + + * * * * * + +The air crackled blue and a tree crashed heavily past Alan into the +stream. Above him on the bank, silhouetting against the moons, the +killer robot stopped and its blaster swivelled slowly down. Frantically, +Alan hugged the bank as a shaft of pure electricity arced over him, +sliced into the water, and exploded in a cloud of steam. The robot shook +for a second, its blaster muzzle lifted erratically and for an instant +it seemed almost out of control, then it quieted and the muzzle again +pointed down. + +Pressing with all his might, Alan slid slowly along the bank inches at a +time, away from the machine above. Its muzzle turned to follow him but +the edge of the bank blocked its aim. Grinding forward a couple of feet, +slightly overhanging the bank, the robot fired again. For a split second +Alan seemed engulfed in flame; the heat of hell singed his head and +back, and mud boiled in the bank by his arm. + +Again the robot trembled. It jerked forward a foot and its blaster swung +slightly away. But only for a moment. Then the gun swung back again. + +Suddenly, as if sensing something wrong, its tracks slammed into +reverse. It stood poised for a second, its treads spinning crazily as +the earth collapsed underneath it, where Alan had dug, then it fell with +a heavy splash into the mud, ten feet from where Alan stood. + +Without hesitation Alan threw himself across the blaster housing, +frantically locking his arms around the barrel as the robot's treads +churned furiously in the sticky mud, causing it to buck and plunge like +a Brahma bull. The treads stopped and the blaster jerked upwards +wrenching Alan's arms, then slammed down. Then the whole housing whirled +around and around, tilting alternately up and down like a steel-skinned +water monster trying to dislodge a tenacious crab, while Alan, arms and +legs wrapped tightly around the blaster barrel and housing, pressed +fiercely against the robot's metal skin. + +Slowly, trying to anticipate and shift his weight with the spinning +plunges, Alan worked his hand down to his right hip. He fumbled for the +sheath clipped to his belt, found it, and extracted a stubby hunting +knife. Sweat and blood in his eyes, hardly able to move on the wildly +swinging turret, he felt down the sides to the thin crack between the +revolving housing and the stationary portion of the robot. With a quick +prayer he jammed in the knife blade--and was whipped headlong into the +mud as the turret literally snapped to a stop. + +The earth, jungle and moons spun in a pinwheeled blur, slowed, and +settled to their proper places. Standing in the sticky, sweet-smelling +ooze, Alan eyed the robot apprehensively. Half buried in mud, it stood +quiet in the shadowy light except for an occasional, almost spasmodic +jerk of its blaster barrel. For the first time that night Alan allowed +himself a slight smile. "A blade in the old gear box, eh? How does that +feel, boy?" + +He turned. "Well, I'd better get out of here before the knife slips or +the monster cooks up some more tricks with whatever it's got for a +brain." Digging little footholds in the soft bank, he climbed up and +stood once again in the rustling jungle darkness. + +"I wonder," he thought, "how Pete could cram enough brain into one of +those things to make it hunt and track so perfectly." He tried to +visualize the computing circuits needed for the operation of its +tracking mechanism alone. "There just isn't room for the electronics. +You'd need a computer as big as the one at camp headquarters." + + * * * * * + +In the distance the sky blazed as a blaster roared in the jungle. Then +Alan heard the approaching robot, crunching and snapping its way through +the undergrowth like an onrushing forest fire. He froze. "Good Lord! +They communicate with each other! The one I jammed must be calling +others to help." + +He began to move along the bank, away from the crashing sounds. Suddenly +he stopped, his eyes widened. "Of course! Radio! I'll bet anything +they're automatically controlled by the camp computer. That's where their +brain is!" He paused. "Then, if that were put out of commission ..." He +jerked away from the bank and half ran, half pulled himself through the +undergrowth towards the camp. + +Trees exploded to his left as another robot fired in his direction, too +far away to be effective but churning towards him through the blackness. + +Alan changed direction slightly to follow a line between the two robots +coming up from either side, behind him. His eyes were well accustomed to +the dark now, and he managed to dodge most of the shadowy vines and +branches before they could snag or trip him. Even so, he stumbled in the +wiry underbrush and his legs were a mass of stinging slashes from ankle +to thigh. + +The crashing rumble of the killer robots shook the night behind him, +nearer sometimes, then falling slightly back, but following constantly, +more unshakable than bloodhounds because a man can sometimes cover a +scent, but no man can stop his thoughts. Intermittently, like +photographers' strobes, blue flashes would light the jungle about him. +Then, for seconds afterwards his eyes would see dancing streaks of +yellow and sharp multi-colored pinwheels that alternately shrunk and +expanded as if in a surrealist's nightmare. Alan would have to pause and +squeeze his eyelids tight shut before he could see again, and the robots +would move a little closer. + +To his right the trees silhouetted briefly against brilliance as a third +robot slowly moved up in the distance. Without thinking, Alan turned +slightly to the left, then froze in momentary panic. "I should be at the +camp now. Damn, what direction am I going?" He tried to think back, to +visualize the twists and turns he'd taken in the jungle. "All I need is +to get lost." + +He pictured the camp computer with no one to stop it, automatically +sending its robots in wider and wider forays, slowly wiping every trace +of life from the planet. Technologically advanced machines doing the job +for which they were built, completely, thoroughly, without feeling, and +without human masters to separate sense from futility. Finally parts +would wear out, circuits would short, and one by one the killers would +crunch to a halt. A few birds would still fly then, but a unique animal +life, rare in the universe, would exist no more. And the bones of +children, eager girls, and their men would also lie, beside a rusty +hulk, beneath the alien sun. + +"Peggy!" + +As if in answer, a tree beside him breathed fire, then exploded. In the +brief flash of the blaster shot, Alan saw the steel glint of a robot +only a hundred yards away, much nearer than he had thought. "Thank +heaven for trees!" He stepped back, felt his foot catch in something, +clutched futilely at some leaves and fell heavily. + +Pain danced up his leg as he grabbed his ankle. Quickly he felt the +throbbing flesh. "Damn the rotten luck, anyway!" He blinked the pain +tears from his eyes and looked up--into a robot's blaster, jutting out +of the foliage, thirty yards away. + + * * * * * + +Instinctively, in one motion Alan grabbed his pocket blaster and fired. +To his amazement the robot jerked back, its gun wobbled and started to +tilt away. Then, getting itself under control, it swung back again to +face Alan. He fired again, and again the robot reacted. It seemed +familiar somehow. Then he remembered the robot on the river bank, +jiggling and swaying for seconds after each shot. "Of course!" He cursed +himself for missing the obvious. "The blaster static blanks out radio +transmission from the computer for a few seconds. They even do it to +themselves!" + +Firing intermittently, he pulled himself upright and hobbled ahead +through the bush. The robot shook spasmodically with each shot, its gun +tilted upward at an awkward angle. + +Then, unexpectedly, Alan saw stars, real stars brilliant in the night +sky, and half dragging his swelling leg he stumbled out of the jungle +into the camp clearing. Ahead, across fifty yards of grass stood the +headquarters building, housing the robot-controlling computer. Still +firing at short intervals he started across the clearing, gritting his +teeth at every step. + +Straining every muscle in spite of the agonizing pain, Alan forced +himself to a limping run across the uneven ground, carefully avoiding +the insect hills that jutted up through the grass. From the corner of +his eye he saw another of the robots standing shakily in the dark edge +of the jungle waiting, it seemed, for his small blaster to run dry. + +"Be damned! You can't win now!" Alan yelled between blaster shots, +almost irrational from the pain that ripped jaggedly through his leg. +Then it happened. A few feet from the building's door his blaster quit. +A click. A faint hiss when he frantically jerked the trigger again and +again, and the spent cells released themselves from the device, falling +in the grass at his feet. He dropped the useless gun. + +"No!" He threw himself on the ground as a new robot suddenly appeared +around the edge of the building a few feet away, aimed, and fired. Air +burned over Alan's back and ozone tingled in his nostrils. + +Blinding itself for a few seconds with its own blaster static, the robot +paused momentarily, jiggling in place. In this instant, Alan jammed his +hands into an insect hill and hurled the pile of dirt and insects +directly at the robot's antenna. In a flash, hundreds of the winged +things erupted angrily from the hole in a swarming cloud, each part of +which was a speck of life transmitting mental energy to the robot's +pickup devices. + +Confused by the sudden dispersion of mind impulses, the robot fired +erratically as Alan crouched and raced painfully for the door. It fired +again, closer, as he fumbled with the lock release. Jagged bits of +plastic and stone ripped past him, torn loose by the blast. + +Frantically, Alan slammed open the door as the robot, sensing him +strongly now, aimed point blank. He saw nothing, his mind thought of +nothing but the red-clad safety switch mounted beside the computer. Time +stopped. There was nothing else in the world. He half-jumped, half-fell +towards it, slowly, in tenths of seconds that seemed measured out in +years. + +The universe went black. + +Later. Brilliance pressed upon his eyes. Then pain returned, a +multi-hurting thing that crawled through his body and dragged ragged +tentacles across his brain. He moaned. + +A voice spoke hollowly in the distance. "He's waking. Call his wife." + +Alan opened his eyes in a white room; a white light hung over his head. +Beside him, looking down with a rueful smile, stood a young man wearing +space medical insignia. "Yes," he acknowledged the question in Alan's +eyes, "you hit the switch. That was three days ago. When you're up again +we'd all like to thank you." + +Suddenly a sobbing-laughing green-eyed girl was pressed tightly against +him. Neither of them spoke. They couldn't. There was too much to say. + + +THE END + + + + +Transcriber's Note: + + This etext was produced from _Amazing Science Fiction Stories_ + October 1958. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that + the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling + and typographical errors have been corrected without note. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Survival Tactics, by Al Sevcik + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SURVIVAL TACTICS *** + +***** This file should be named 24966.txt or 24966.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/9/6/24966/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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