What kind of spiritual aid do you call this?” “Just a bracer, my boy, a touch of the old-time religion to renew your sense of guilt and start you thinking about going to church regular again. You have been backsliding!” “What else could I do-chapel is forbidden during recruit training?” “Circumstances are no excuse, but you will be forgiven this time because Ahura Mazdah is all-merciful.” “But what about my buddy-the spy?” “You must forget your suspicions, for they are not worthy of a follower of Zoroaster. This poor lad must not suffer because of his natural inclinations to be friendly, to aid his comrades, to keep himself pure, to own a crummy watch that goes click. And besides, if you do not mind my introducing a spot of logic-how could he be a spy? To be a spy he would have to be a Chinger, and Chingers are seven feet tall with tails. Catch?” “Yeah, yeah,” Bill mumbled unhappily. “I could figure that one out for myself-but it still doesn't explain everything…” “It satisfies me, and it must satisfy you. I feel that Ahriman has possessed you to make you think evil of your comrade, and you had better do some penance and join me in a quick prayer before the laundry officer comes back on duty.” This ritual was quickly finished, and Bill helped stow the things back in the box and watched it vanish back into the desk. He said good-by and turned to leave.
“Just one moment, my son,” the chaplain said with his warmest smile, reaching back over his shoulder at the same time to grab the end of his necktie.
He pulled, and his collar whirred about, and as it did the blissful expression was wiped from his face to be replaced by a surly snarl. “Just where do you think you're going, bowb! Put your ass back in that chair.” “B-but,” Bill stammered, “you said I was dismissed.” “That's what the chaplain said, and as laundry officer I have no truck with him. Now-fast-what's the name of this Chinger spy you are hiding?” “I told you about that under oath-” “You told the chaplain about it, and he keeps his word and he didn't tell me, but I just happened to hear.” He pressed a red button on the control panel.
“The MPs are on the way. You talk before they get here, bowb, or I'll have you keelhauled without a space suit and deprived of canteen privileges for a year.
The name?” “Eager Beager,” Bill sobbed, as heavy feet trampled outside and two redhats forced their way into the tiny room.
“I have a spy for you boys,” the laundry officer announced triumphantly, and the MPs grated their teeth, howled deep in their throats, and launched themselves through the air at Bill. He dropped under the assault of fists and clubs and was running with blood before the laundry officer could pull the overmuscled morons with their eyes not an inch apart off him.
“Not him…:' the officer gasped, and threw Bill a towel to wipe off some of the blood. “This is our informant, the loyal, patriotic hero who ratted on his buddy by the name of Eager Beager, who we will now grab and chain so he car. be questioned. Let's go.” The MPs held Bill up between them, and by the time they had come to the fuse tenders' quarters the breeze from their swift passage had restored him a bit.
The laundry officer opened the door just enough to poke in his head. “Hi, gang!” he called cheerily. “Is Eager Beager here?” Eager looked up from the boot he was polishing, waving and grinning.
“That's me-gee.” “Get him!” the laundry officer expostulated, jumping aside and pointing accusingly. Bill dropped to the floor as the MPs let go of him and thundered into the compartment. By the time he had staggered back to his feet Eager was pinioned, handcuffed and chained, hand and foot, but still grinning.
“Gee-you guys want some boots polished too?” “No backtalk, you dirty spy,” the laundry officer grated, and slapped him hard in the offensive grin. At least he tried to slap him in the offensive grin, but Beager opened his mouth and bit the hand that hit him, clamping down hard so that the officer could not get away. “He bit me!” the man howled, and tried desperately to pull free. Both MPs, each handcuffed to an arm of the prisoner, raised their clubs to give him a sound battering.
At this moment the top of Eager Beager's head flew open.
Happening at any other time, this would have been considered unusual, but happening at this moment it was spectacularly unusual, and they all, including Bill, gaped, as a seven-inch-high lizard climbed out of the open skull and jumped to the floor in which it made a sizable dent upon landing. It had four tiny arms, along tail, a head like a baby alligator, and was bright green. It looked exactly like a Chinger except that it was seven inches tall instead of seven feet.
“All bowby humans have B. O.,” it said, in a thin imitation of Eager Beager's voice. “Chingers can't sweat. Chingers forever!” It charged across the compartment toward Beager's bunk.
Paralysis prevailed. All of the fuse tenders who had witnessed the impossible events stood or sat as they had been, frozen with shock, eyes bulging like hard-boiled eggs. The laundry officer was pinioned by the teeth locked into his hand, while the two MPs struggled with the handcuffs that held them to the immobile body. Only Bill was free to move and, still dizzy from the beating, he bent over to grab the tiny creature. Small and powerful talons locked into his flesh, and he was pulled from his feet and went sailing through the air to crash against a bulkhead. “Gee-that's for you, you stoolie!” the minuscule voice squeaked.
Before anyone else could interfere, the lizardoid ran to Beager's pile of barracks bags and tore the topmost one open and dived inside. A high-pitched humming grew in volume an instant later, and from the bag emerged the bulletlike nose of a shining projectile. It pushed out until a tiny spaceship not two feet long floated in the compartment. Then it rotated about its vertical axis, stopping when it pointed at the bulkhead. The humming rose in pitch, and the ship suddenly shot forward and tore through the metal of the partition as if it had been no stronger than wet cardboard. There were other distant tearingsounds as it penetrated bulkhead after bulkhead until, with a rending clang, it crashed through the outer skin of the ship and escaped into space. There was the roar of air rushing into the void and the clamor of alarm bells.
“Well I'll be damned… “ the laundry officer said, then snapped his gaping mouth closed and screamed, “Get this thing offa my hand-it's biting me to death!” The two MPs still swayed back and forth, handcuffed effectively to the immobile figure of the former Eager Beager. Beager just stared, smiling around the grip he had on the officer's hand, and it wasn't until Bill got his atomic rifle and put the barrel into Eager's mouth and levered the jaw open that the hand could be withdrawn. While he did this Bill saw that the top of Eager's head had split open just above his ears and was held at the back by a shiny brass hinge. Inside the gaping skull, instead of brains and bones and things, was a model control room with a tiny chair, minuscule controls, TV screens, and a water cooler. Eager was just a robot worked by the little creature that had escaped in the spaceship. It looked like a Chinger-but it was only seven inches tall.
“Hey!” Bill said, “Eager is just a robot worked by the little creature that escaped in the spaceship! It looked like a Chinger-but it was only seven inches tall…” “Seven inches, seven feet-what difference does it make!” the laundry officer mumbled petulantly as he wrapped a handkerchief around his wounded hand. “You don't expect us to tell the recruits how small the enemy really are, or to explain how they come from a 10G planet. We gotta keep the morale up.”
Chapter 5
Now that Eager Beager had turned out to be a Chinger spy, Bill felt very much alone. Bowb Brown, who never talked anyway, now talked even less, which meant never, so there was no one that Bill could bitch to. Bowb was the only other fuseman in the compartment who had been in Bill's squad at Camp Leon Trotsky, and all of the new men were very clannish and given to sitting close together and mumbling and throwing suspicious looks over their shoulders if he should come too close. Their only recreation was welding and every off watch they would break out the welders and weld things to the floor and the next watch cut them loose again, which is about as dim a way of wasting time as there is; but they seemed to enjoy it. So Bill was very much out of things and tried bitching to Eager Beager.
“Look at the trouble you got me into!” he whined.
Beager just smiled back, unmoved by the complaint.
“At least close your head when I'm talking to you,” Bill snarled, and reached over to slam the top of Eager's head shut. But it didn't do any good. Eager couldn't do anything any more except smile. He had polished his last boot.
He just stood there now; he was really very heavy and besides was magnetized to the floor, and the fuse tenders hung their dirty shirts and arc welders on him. He stayed there for three watches before someone figured out what to do with him, until finally a squad of MPs came with crowbars and tilted him into a handcar and rolled
