Intent on the squabble, Tupaia brushed an annoying insect out of his face, and was astonished to find the thing so dense that it hurt his hand when he struck it. He had no time for such thoughts, though; Doc Chimp was moaning, "Oh, Mr. Tupaia, do you see what they're doing? Do you know what that means?"
The Purchased Person with the Pmal, obeying some order, had bent to open a bale of equipment of some sort. Tupaia could not identify it; it seemed to contain folded— garments? No, not garments, but some sort of chest harnesses, with blunt torpedo-shaped metal objects attached to them. "Thrusters!" Doc Chimp sobbed. His eyes were dull, his breathing labored, his demeanor hopeless, even as he was pointing his camera at the emerging equipment. "That means they're going to make us put them on!"
Tupaia growled, "What's wrong with that? Better than walking!"
The chimp shook his head miserably. "Not in that mortal long tunnel we just came through, not with all those bends and turns. But out there—out in that big cave— don't you see? They're going to make us fly straight through!"
Tupaia slapped another bug away and then, realizing what he had done, looked around. Why, the air was full of the bugs! Even in the semidarkness he could see dozens of them, hundreds.
And then he saw that there were swarms of the little insects, all over, even out on the balcony. The other Purchased People had noticed them now, and a sudden astonished rise in pitch of the gabble of the aliens said that they had discovered them, too. They were coming from the tachyon transporter. A bright bubble blossomed from the machine. It popped, and a batch of a thousand of the insects buzzed out of the chamber as he watched—and another batch—and another—it was like watching puffs of vapor from an antique steam engine, thousands upon thousands of them. For a mad moment Tupaia found himself a boy again, bringing breakfast to the tourists in the over-water dining room on Mooroa. To entertain the whiteskins he would throw a slice of toast into the water, and—oh!— what a frenzy! The water would boil with silvery bodies and gold and blue, flashing and flailing into each other like a tiny underwater game of pushball, until magically the last crumb was devoured; and just so these flashing bright creatures milled and raced around—
But were by no means so harmless.
Doc Chimp cried out in alarm. "The Boaty-Bits! I've never seen so many of them!"
And then, slowly, his voice shaking as if in mortal fear, "But they're collective beings. It takes a thousand of them to equal a human or a Sheliak or any of those—that's why they go in swarms—but here—" His voice failed him. "Here there's a million or more," he gasped, "and what will that make them equal to?"
Perhaps the Sheliak and the Scorpian had thought of the same thing; at least, their actions showed sudden panic. The robot whirled in midair and, steam jets screaming, raced toward the Purchased Person bearing a load of queer double-stocked weapons, while the Sheliak extended a lightning-fast tentacle in the same direction.
Fast as they were, they were not fast enough.
The milling swarm of Boaty-Bits seemed to shudder in midmotion. Then, with astonishing speed, the entire swarm coalesced around the Purchased Person. They swarmed onto him like African bees onto a luckless victim, covering him from head to toe with a solid, shimmering coat of steely blue. The Purchased Person staggered, then swiftly dropped to one knee, grasped the two-stocked weapon, and fired. The Scorpian robot exploded into a million shards of hot steel as the greenish blob of light struck; a moment later, with a sound like bacon frying, another green bolt incinerated the Sheliak.
"How—could he—" Doc Chimp muttered feverishly, and then answered his own question. "The Boaty-Bits took him over! And—heaven help us now, Mr. Tupaia—here comes the Watcher!"
Tupaia instinctively shrank back, as the Watcher screamed up from the depths of the cavern. Its hoarse, hooting roar was almost deafening, even above the thrumming in the immense pipes; great flapping wings brought its vile odor in a hot and nauseating gust as it lunged toward them—and past. It dropped to another part of the line, cawing its terrible rage at the two Purchased People staggering under the mass of the great translucent block. One fled. The other tried. Not fast enough. The foul talons ripped across his back and blood spurted. The Watcher dropped to the keyboard and its claws danced across it.
Yes. It was a weapon. That green glow formed over the block, elongating toward the Purchased Person wearing the cloak of Boaty-Bits.
The green charge grew and slid toward the edge of the block. Then it raced away. It struck the Purchased Person, and he ceased to exist. Half the Boaty-Bits got away, the rest simply disappeared. It went on.
It went out into the cavern.
Those shining rods, those delicate silver wires—they were in its path, and it touched them. A rumble like a distant H-bomb filled the cavern. Green fire flared into terrible brightness. Tupaia ducked his head, crouched to shield himself from searing heat. A scream from the Watcher faded into sudden dreadful silence. He heard the monkey whimper.
At last the wave of heat receded, and Tupaia lifted his head and tried to see. He could not. His stinging eyes found only a foggy red blur.
"My eyes!" he heard the monkey moaning. "I burnt my eyes!"
The Watcher howled again, in rage and fear, and then the shock wave hit them.
The blast battered Tupaia's body, hurt his ears, dazed him. Dimly, through ringing ears, he heard the diminishing echoes that rumbled after it. When at last he could get his breath he picked himself up and stared around fiercely through the thinning blood-red mist. At least his vision was returning!
The curious mirror-bright rods were intact, but the silvery cables were slowly wriggling themselves into corkscrew contortions, a great loose skein of chrome-colored spaghetti. Huge metal beams had been bent and torn, and somewhere a pipe containing liquid had burst. The plume of liquid dashed itself into spray—or perhaps it was steam, for the heat was indescribable.
Near him the monkey lay in a sobbing heap, hands over his scorched eyes. And the Watcher stood still at his terrifying weapon.
If he had seemed mad before, now he was utterly berserk. He played the console of the weapon again, this time toward the bulk of the remaining group of slaves. They were vaporized at once; and the Boaty-Bits buzzed wildly above them.
Apart from the Watcher, Tupaia, and the chimp, the only individual creature still alive was the horse-headed Canopan, and his future suddenly was in doubt. The Boaty-Bits—more of them every minute, as the tachyon chamber spat out new swarms—wheeled and descended on him.
Screeching horribly, the Watcher lifted the weapon toward the shrouded figure of the Canopan—and stopped.
The Canopan raised its hand, and spoke—in a tone wholly unlike its usual whinnying tongue.
The effect on the Watcher was spectacular. It froze. It held motionlessly for a long moment.
Then it screamed in horror and outrage, heaved the great block away out over the balcony. It spun and turned as it fell slowly into the depths. The Watcher, shrieking its despair, turned and flew away.
Tupaia swallowed and glanced down at Doc Chimp. "What—what was that?" he demanded.
But there was no answer. The little chimpanzee was drooping slowly toward the floor, one long, skinny black hand trying vainly to press back the bright flood that spurted from a wound over his heart, the other pressed to the blinded shoe-button eyes. Some tiny fragment from the battle had found an unintended target.
And, except for that strange horse-headed figure with its mummy-wrapping of Boaty-Bits, Tupaia was alone.
He turned and ran back up the corridor, expecting at every moment to feel that bright green blast on his own back.