The Leech nu-2, Page 2

  "For a week I've been asking permission to use the bomb," O'Donnell grumbled. "And I'll get it, but not until after those jackasses end their damned talking." He stopped pacing and turned to Micheals. "I am going to destroy the leech. I am going to smash it, if that's the last thing I do. It's more than a matter of security now. It's personal pride."

  That attitude might make great generals, Micheals thought, but it wasn't the way to consider this problem. It was anthropomorphic of O'Donnell to see the leech as an enemy. Even the identification, "leech," was a humanizing factor. O'Donnell was dealing with it as he would any physical obstacle, as though the leech were the simple equivalent of a large army.

  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, that O'Donnell didn't care if he did crack the Earth. The red-faced general only knew that he was going to set off the greatest explosion ever produced by the hand of Man.

  "Not so fast," Allenson said. "I'll let the others speak for themselves."

  The general contained himself with difficulty. "Remember," he said, "according to your own figures, the leech is growing at the rate of twenty feet an hour."

  "And speeding up," Allenson added. "But this isn't a decision to be made in haste."

  Micheals found his mind wandering again, to the lightning bolts of Zeus. That was what they needed. Or the strength of Hercules.

  Or—

  He sat up suddenly. "Gentlemen, I believe I can offer you a possible alternative, although it's a very dim one."

  They stared at him.

  "Have you ever heard of Antaeus?" he asked.

  The more the leech ate, the faster it grew and the hungrier it became. Although its birth was forgotten, it did remember a long way back. It had eaten a planet in that ancient past. Grown tremendous, ravenous, it had made the journey to a nearby star and eaten that, replenishing the cells converted into energy for the trip. But then there was no more food, and the next star was an enormous distance away.

  It set out on the journey, but long before it reached the food, its energy ran ou
t. Mass, converted back to energy to make the trip, was used up. It shrank.

  Finally, all the energy was gone. It was a spore, drifting aimlessly, lifelessly, in space.

  That was the first time. Or was it? It thought it could remember back to a distant, misty time when the Universe was evenly covered with stars. It had eaten through them, cutting away whole sections, growing, swelling. And the stars had swung off in terror, forming galaxies and constellations.

  Or was that a dream?

  Methodically, it fed on the Earth, wondering where the rich food was. And then it was back again, but this time above the leech.

  It waited, but the tantalizing food remained out of reach. It was able to sense how rich and pure the food was.

  Why didn't it fall?

  For a long time the leech waited, but the food stayed out of reach. At last, it lifted and followed.

  The food retreated, up, up from the surface of the planet. The leech went after as quickly as its bulk would allow.

  The rich food fled out, into space, and the leech followed. Beyond, it could sense an even richer source.

  The hot, wonderful food of a sun!

  O'Donnell served champagne for the scientists in the control room. Official dinners would follow, but this was the victory celebration.

  "A toast," the general said, standing. The men raised their glasses. The only man not drinking was a lieutenant, sitting in front of the control board that guided the drone spaceship.

  "To Micheals, for thinking of—what was it again, Micheals?"

  "Antaeus." Micheals had been drinking champagne steadily, but he didn't feel elated. Antaeus, born of Ge, the Earth, and Poseidon, the Sea. The invincible wrestler. Each time Hercules threw him to the ground, he arose refreshed.

  Until Hercules held him in the air.

  Moriarty was muttering to himself, figuring with slide rule, pencil and paper. Allenson was drinking, but he didn't look too happy about it.

  "Come on, you birds of evil omen," O'Donnell said, pouring more champagne. "Figure it out later. Right now, drink." He turned to the operator. "How's it going?"

  Micheals' analogy had been applied to a spaceship. The ship, operated by remote control, was filled with pure radioactives. It hovered over the leech until, rising to the bait, it had followed. Antaeus had left his mother, the Earth, and was losing his strength in the air. The operator was allowing the spaceship to run fast enough to keep out of the leech's grasp, but close enough to keep it coming.

  The spaceship and the leech were on a collision course with the Sun.

  "Fine, sir," the operator said. "It's inside the orbit of Mercury now."

  "Men," the general said, "I swore to destroy that thing. This isn't exactly the way I wanted to do it. I figured on a more personal way. But the important thing is the destruction. You will all witness it. Destruction is at times a sacred mission. This is such a time. Men, I feel wonderful."

  "Turn the spaceship!" It was Moriarty who had spoken. His face was white. "Turn the damned thing!"

  He shoved his figures at them.

  They were easy to read. The growth-rate of the leech. The energy-consumption rate, estimated. Its speed in space, a constant. The energy it would receive from the Sun as it approached, an exponential curve. Its energy-absorption rate, figured in terms of growth, expressed as a hyped-up discontinuous progression.

  The result—

  "It'll consume the Sun," Moriarty said, very quietly.

  The control room turned into a bedlam. Six of them tried to explain it to O'Donnell at the same time. Then Moriarty tried, and finally Allenson.

  "Its rate of growth is so great and its speed so slow—and it will get so much energy—that the leech will be able to consume the Sun by the time it gets there. Or, at least, to live off it until it can consume it."

  O'Donnell didn't bother to understand. He turned to the operator.

  "Turn it," he said.

  They all hovered over the radar screen, waiting.

  The food turned out of the leech's path and streaked away. Ahead was a tremendous source, but still a long way off. The leech hesitated.

  Its cells, recklessly expending energy, shouted for a decision. The food slowed, tantalizingly near.

  The closer source or the greater?

  The leech's body wanted food now.

  It started after it, away from the Sun.

  The Sun would come next.

  "Pull it out at right angles to the plane of the Solar System," Allenson said.

  The operator touched the controls. On the radar screen, they saw a blob pursuing a dot. It had turned.

  Relief washed over them. It had been close!

  "In what portion of the sky would the leech be?" O'Donnell asked, his face expressionless.

  "Come outside; I believe I can show you," an astronomer said. They walked to the door. "Somewhere in that section," the astronomer said, pointing.

  "Fine. All right, Soldier," O'Donnell told the operator. "Carry out your orders."

  The scientists gasped in unison. The operator manipulated the controls and the blob began to overtake the dot. Micheals started across the room.

  "Stop," the general said, and his strong, commanding voice stopped Micheals. "I know what I'm doing. I had that ship especially built."

  The blob overtook the dot on the radar screen.

  "I told you this was a personal matter," O'Donnell said. "I swore to destroy that leech. We can never have any security while it lives." He smiled. "Shall we look at the sky?"

  The general strolled to the door, followed by the scientists.

  "Push the button, Soldier!"

  The operator did. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the sky lit up!

  A bright star hung in space. Its brilliance filled the night, grew, and started to fade.

  "What did you do?" Micheals gasped.

  "That rocket was built around a hydrogen bomb," O'Donnell said, his strong face triumphant. "I set it off at the contact moment." He called to the operator again. "Is there anything showing on the radar?"

  "Not a speck, sir."

  "Men," the general said, "I have met the enemy and he is mine. Let's have some more champagne."

  But Micheals found that he was suddenly ill.

  It had been shrinking from the expenditure of energy, when the great explosion came. No thought of containing it. The leech's cells held for the barest fraction of a second, and then spontaneously overloaded.

  The leech was smashed, broken up, destroyed. It was split into a thousand particles, and the particles were split a million times more.

  The particles were thrown out on the wave front of the explosion, and they split further, spontaneously.

  Into spores.

  The spores closed into dry, hard, seemingly lifeless specks of dust, billions of them, scattered, drifting. Unconscious, they floated in the emptiness of space.

  Billions of them, waiting to be fed.

  —PHILLIPS BARBEE

  Transcriber's Note:

  This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction December 1952. 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.

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