But the leech was not human, not even of this planet, perhaps. It should be dealt with in its own terms.
“Here come the bright boys now,” O’Donnell said.
From a nearby tent a group of weary men emerged, led by Allenson, a government biologist.
“Well,” the general asked, “have you figured out what it is?”
“Just a minute, I’ll hack off a sample,” Allenson said, glaring through red-rimmed eyes.
“Have you figured out some scientific way of killing it?”
“Oh, that wasn’t too difficult,” Moriarty, an atomic physicist, said wryly. “Wrap it in a perfect vacuum. That’ll do the trick. Or blow it off the Earth with anti-gravity.”
“But failing that,” Allenson said, “we suggest you use your atomic bombs, and use them fast.”
“Is that the opinion of your entire group?” O’Donnell asked, his eyes glittering.
“Yes.”
The general hurried away. Micheals joined the scientists.
“He should have called us in at the very first,” Allenson complained. “There’s no time to consider anything but force now.”
“Have you come to any conclusions about the nature of the leech?” Micheals asked.
“Only general ones,” Moriarty said, “and they’re about the same as yours. The leech is probably extraterrestrial in origin. It seems to have been in a spore-stage until it landed on Earth.” He paused to light a pipe. “Incidentally, we should be damned glad it didn’t drop in an ocean. We’d have had the Earth eaten out from under us before we knew what we were looking for.”
They walked in silence for a few minutes.
“As you mentioned, it’s a perfect converter—it can transform mass into energy, and any energy into mass.” Moriarty grinned. “Naturally that’s impossible and I have figures to prove it.”
“I’m going to get a drink,” Allenson said. “Anyone coming?”
“Best idea of the week,” Micheals said. “I wonder how long it’ll take O’Donnell to get permission to use the bomb.”
“If I know politics,” Moriarty said, “too long.”
The findings of the government scientists were checked by other government scientists. That took a few days. Then Washington wanted to know if there wasn’t some alternative to exploding an atomic bomb in the middle of New York State. It took a little time to convince them of the necessity. After that, people had to be evacuated, which took more time.
Then orders were made out, and five atomic bombs were checked out of a cache. A patrol rocket was assigned, given orders, and put under General O’Donnell’s command. This took a day more.
Finally, the stubby scout rocket was winging its way over New York. From the air, the grayish-black spot was easy to find. Like a festered wound, it stretched between Lake Placid and Elizabethtown, covering Keene and Keene Valley, and lapping at the edges of Jay.
The first bomb was released.
It had been a long wait after the first rich food. The greater radiation of day was followed by the lesser energy of night many times, as the leech ate away the earth beneath it, absorbed the air around it, and grew. Then one day—
An amazing burst of energy!
Everything was food for the leech, but there was always the possibility of choking. The energy poured over it, drenched it, battered it, and the leech grew frantically, trying to contain the titanic dose. Still small, it quickly reached its overload limit. The strained cells, filled to satiation, were given more and more food. The strangling body built new cells at lightning speed. And—
It held. The energy was controlled, stimulating further growth. More cells took over the load, sucking in the food.
The next doses were wonderfully palatable, easily handled. The leech overflowed its bounds, growing, eating, and growing.
That was a taste of real food! The leech was as near ecstasy as it had ever been. It waited hopefully for more, but no more came.
It went back to feeding on the Earth. The energy, used to produce more cells, was soon dissipated. Soon it was hungry again.
It would always be hungry.
O’Donnell retreated with his demoralized men. They camped ten miles from the leech’s southern edge, in the evacuated town of Schroon Lake. The leech was over sixty miles in diameter now and still growing fast. It lay sprawled over the Adirondack Mountains, completely blanketing everything from Saranac Lake to Port Henry, with one edge of it over Westport, in Lake Champlain.
Everyone within two hundred miles of the leech was evacuated.
General O’Donnell was given permission to use hydrogen bombs, contingent on the approval of his scientists.
“What have the bright boys decided?” O’Donnell wanted to know.
He and Micheals were in the living room of an evacuated Schroon Lake house. O’Donnell had made it his new command post.
“Why are they hedging?” O’Donnell demanded impatiently. “The leech has to be blown up quick. What are they fooling around for?”
“They’re afraid of a chain reaction,” Micheals told him. “A concentration of hydrogen bombs might set one up in the Earth’s crust or in the atmosphere. It might do any of half a dozen things.”
“Perhaps they’d like me to order a bayonet attack,” O’Donnell said contemptuously.
Micheals sighed and sat down in an armchair. He was convinced that the whole method was wrong. The government scientists were being rushed into a single line of inquiry. The pressure on them was so great that they didn’t have a chance to consider any other approach but force—and the leech thrived on that.
Micheals was certain that there were times when fighting fire with fire was not applicable.
Fire. Loki, god of fire. And of trickery. No, there was no answer there. But Micheals’ mind was in mythology now, retreating from the unbearable present.
Allenson came in, followed by six other men.
“Well,” Allenson said, “there’s a damned good chance of splitting the Earth wide open if you use the number of bombs our figures show you need.”
“You have to take chances in war,” O’Donnell replied bluntly. “Shall I go ahead?”
Micheals saw, suddenly,
