He also felt a renewed determination to proceed with his escape plan, such as it was.
The first step was to prise a vital scrap of information out of Lieutenant Merriman, but securing an interview with him proved difficult because the lieutenant, apparently having recovered all his patriotic fervour, spent most of his waking hours where the fighting was at its height. It was not until the third day on Threlkeld that Peace managed to corner him near the field kitchen, and Merriman’s mouth made several unsuccessful attempts to compress with displeasure when he realized he was trapped.
“I can’t talk to you now, Peace,” he said in a piping voice, moving away. “We can’t serve Terra by standing around jawing.”
“But that’s just it, sir,” Peace countered, uttering the only words he could think of which would grip the young officer’s interest, “I believe we could.” Merriman turned back. “What’s on your mind, Peace?”
“Well, sir, we’ve been losing a lot of men to the multichews, and … and …” Peace listened, aghast, as his own mouth uttered the lie. “I’ve thought of a better way to fight them.”
“I’m listening.”
“Well…” Peace’s mind raced as he sought inspiration. “Well, they’re most dangerous when a dozen or so of them join up together, and all we’ve got to do is prevent that happening.”
“How?”
“Spray them with oil, sir. So that they keep slipping off each other. Any sort of lubricant would do—even suntan oil.”
“That,” Merriman said ominously, “is a rotten idea.”
Peace, who had formed exactly the same opinion, caught his arm. “Or we could spray them with something to block the nerve signals between the different segments. Any quick-drying varnish would do. How about hair lacquer?”
“What would the people back on Terra think of the Legion if we started requisitioning suntan lotion and hair sprays?” Merriman detached his arm from Peace’s grip and stared at him suspiciously. “Is this some kind of subversive greeno trick?”
“Please don’t say things like that, sir,” Peace said earnestly, at last feeling the conversation veer in the direction he wanted. “Nobody could be more loyal to the Legion and to you. I’d like you to know it isn’t the command enforcer that makes me obey your orders—it’s my love of… er … Terra, and my respect for you as an officer.”
“Don’t try to cream me.”
“It’s the truth, sir.”
“If I thought you really meant that…”
“I do, sir, I do.”
“Why, thank you, Peace. This is the very first time that anybody has…” Merriman blinked several times, then took out a handkerchief and blew his nose. “I sometimes wish that more of the Supreme Command had been like General Nightingale and held out against command enforcers in their own divisions. I mean, how am I ever going to know if I’ve got inborn leadership or not?”
“It’s a terrible problem, sir—and all because somebody put a stupid little diaphragm into your throat, vibrating away at … what sort of frequency would you say? Eight or ten thou per second?”
“Twelve,” Merriman said abstractedly. “You know, Peace, I’ve enjoyed this little talk with you. I had no idea you were so sensitive and… Where are you going, Peace?”
“I’m needed at the front, sir.” Peace gestured towards the wall of viridescent jungle which represented the limit of human-controlled territory. Needles of light from radiation rifles burned irregularly in the shade of the overchanging vegetation, and occasional purple flashes showed that rayitzers were in action. The air was filled with the shouts of men and the roars, honks and hisses of the various fauna which were slowly being displaced from their native territories. As he ran towards the firing line Peace felt a certain amount of guilt about his psychological manipulation of the lieutenant, but if he was to stay alive he could not afford to be scrupulous about his methods.
He scanned the surroundings carefully and within a matter of seconds had located his next major requirement—a supply of electronics components. It took the form of a radiation rifle, lying in the undergrowth, which had been grotesquely distorted by some act of violence.
Peace had little doubt that its former owner was in a similar condition, and therefore he was relieved to find there were no organic residues to be wiped off the weapon before he could make use of it. He picked up the rifle, snapped out the ray generator pack and dropped it into his pocket.
At that moment an adult whippersnapper, busily performing both the actions for which it was named, leaped at him from the lower branches of a tree and he spent the next minute beating it off with the broken weapon while his own rifle hung uselessly on his back. He was sweating profusely and gibbering with panic by the time he managed to stun the beast and dispatch it with a five-second squirt of radiation.
The incident was a sharp reminder of what would inevitably happen if he did not remain fully alert. He decided to put all thoughts of the escape plan out of his head until conditions were more suitable for cerebration. A second reminder came an hour later when, only a few metres away, the volatile Latin recruit, whose name Peace had never learned, was scooped up by a scaly monster and—yodelling a final, despairing “Mamma mia!”—was stuffed into its cavernous maw.
When darkness had put an end to the day’s fighting the remnants of Lieutenant Merriman’s unit were sent back to the shelter of an encampment, given a bowl of gruel each and allowed to rest on heaps of dried grass. Tired though the recruits were, most were unable to sleep because the grass had been gathered locally and had a disturbing habit of moving about of its own accord and trying to take root in any bodily orifices it could reach.
Peace settled down in a corner and, pausing only to break off exploring tendrils of straw, began dismantling the rifle generator pack. The light in the tent was rather dim for intricate work, but he was pleased to discover that his fingers had an in-built gift for dealing with the circuitry. It would have meant the end of his scheme if the knowledge of electronics he had divined within himself had been as far out of touch with reality as his ideas about spaceships.
He worked for two hours, grateful for the extensive use of button terminals which enabled him to rebuild circuits without soldering equipment, and at the end of that time had created a small device which would, within a limited radius, neutralize all sound vibrations in the frequency range upon which the Legion’s command enforcers operated. It took him a further ten minutes to fit the gadget into his helmet, then he lay down to sleep, well satisfied with his progress.
Ryan, who had been watching with covert interest, raised himself on one elbow. “Hey, Warren—what’s that thing you just put in your helmet?”
“Keep your voice down,” Peace whispered. “I don’t want everybody to know about it.”
“But what is it?”
“It’s … ah … a miniature hi-fi.” Peace conducted an imaginary orchestra for a few seconds.
“When I go, I want to go with music in my ears.”
“I wish I could build something like that,” Ryan said admiringly. “All I know about hi-fi is that there’s a main speaker and a tweeter, and some circuits in between to make sure that…”