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Jonkarta ordered, pouting slightly at being put down by a mere woman. "You
will find their encampment just one day's journey from here, at the edge of
the long-dead city of Mercaptan. We will take up our positions in darkness.
The battle will be joined at dawn." "You're the boss," Meta said. "Lead on.
And could I have another slug of that fermented thoat's milk, just for the
road." Jonkarta knew every path and trail in the jungle and on the mossy
plain and went silently on little cat's feet. (He had killed the little cat
and skinned it and used its feet to make soles for his moccasins. An old
Barthroomian custom that brings good luck. But not to the cat.) Unknown
dangers lurked here, but as soon as they made themselves known they were127
blasted by Fighting Devil who was now enjoying itself. Very quickly fragments
of giant python, wolverine-possum, as well as bits of the hideous latkeeater,
littered the ground. Jonkarta was more relaxed now, seeing that the newcomers
really were fighting on his side. "Ah must say, you really are a fighting
devil," he said. "Eponymous, that's me," it agreed and shots rang out as it
blew away a charging nenitesk. Because their explosive passage expedited
their journey through the forest they reached the edge of the great mossy
wastes just as the sun was setting behind the distant edge of the plateau.
"They are there," Jonkarta said, pointing grimly, which is not easy to do.
"You can make out the dark forms of their tents, the even darker forms of the
grazing thoats. . ." "Speaking of thoats," Meta interjected, "I'll have a
bit more of that ham." "You think more of your stomach than you do of mah
darling Dejah Vue!" "Right now, yes, Red. Eat first, fight later." Since
Fighting Devil needed no sleep it took the first watch that night. Then the
second and the third, and woke them just before dawn.
"What's your plan, Jonkarta?" Bill asked after they broken their fast with the
last of the ham and snuck out behind the trees to make peepee. "There is
but one plan-fight and win!" "Brilliant." Fighting Devil was not impressed.
"But if you want some advice on fighting from an experienced
Fighting Devil you ought to organize things a little bit better than that. How
many of them are there?"128 "Countless hordes!" "You wouldn't like to be
a little more precise?" "Don't bother," Bill said. "I've danced this one
before. This lad counts one, two, more." "Ah'm a better shot than you are
paleface," Jonkarta sulked. "Ali don't need to count-just fight!"
"You'll fight, you'll fight," Fighting Devil bemoaned, fed up with all soft,
wet aliens. "Let's make this simple. What do you say I walk in there and blow
everyone away?" "You will kill mah darling princess!" "OK, we modify the
plan. You sneak in now under cover of darkness and find where she is. Then
when I arrive at dawn you point to her tent and I blow everything else away."
"But how do I find her in the darkness?" "Use your nose," Meta said; fed up
with the bickering. "If she doesn't stink you can smell her out among the
smellies." "Stink! Were you not female you would be dead. My darling has
the aroma of sweet roses, delicate dafs, all the fair flowers.. ."
"Terrific. Sniff out this bouquet of beauty and let trigger-happy know which
tent she is in. Can we now get this war on the road?" "Ali will now seek
out my darling. Silence is the word so ah dare not take OI' Betsy here, mah
trusty radium rifle. Ali leave it in yore care, Ma'am. .." "No way! Hang it
from a tree and it will be here when you get back." Jonkarta had no choice.
He secured the weapon high in a ginja tree, then silent as a wraith slipped
out into the desert. Fighting Devil hummed to itself as the sky129lightened
in the west-the planet of Usa rotated backward-as it reloaded all its weapons
and charged up the ray projectors. Bill stretched out to get a quick thirty
winks, it had been a long night, but Meta had better ideas. She crept under
the shrouding shrub that concealed him, settled beside him on the soft moss
and the night was filled with the music of zippers being unzipped. And being
rezipped when they saw an infrared detector protruding from the shrub. Meta
grabbed for it but it slipped away. "If vegetative reproduction is your bag,"
she shouted, "how come this big interest in heterosexuality?" "Maybe I feel
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frustrated. Sun's up. The lark's on the wing, the thoat on the thand. Here I
go!" The camp was already astir, and it astirred even more at the sight of
Fighting Devil trundling towards them. A
horde of ravenous, verminous, carious green martians poured out of the tents
roaring evil oaths and firing at their metal attacker. Fighting Devil raised
its guns and aimed them, but held its fire. "Soft red squishy one-where are
you?" "Here," Jonkarta said, raising his head out of a ditch-and ducking
again when radium bullets began to whistle by. "Kill as you will-but spare the
tent with the mark of the beast on it." "I'm afraid that I'm not familiar
with the term." Jonkarta quickly traced 666 in the sand. "It looks like
that." "Gotcha." Fighting Devil aimed its electronic telescope, ignoring
the bullets clanging on its hide, and swept the line of tents. "I've found
it-and here I go!" It was very dramatic. The grotesque green men130
never stood a chance before the maelstrom of fire and bullets.
Stormed at by shot and shell, they all exploded well. Gobbets of green flesh
flew in all directions and thudded into the sand among the debris of broken
tents, fur rugs, silken drapes, gold bangles, contraceptives, pistols and
swords, portapotties-all the things that made life in the harsh desert
possible. Meta and Bill, hand in hand, came to watch the noisy demonstration
of invincible firepower. Within instants the proud camp was a smoking
ruin-from which a single tent projected. It was unharmed, although it was well
spattered with green blood. "Mah darlin' Dejah Vue-is she safe?" "You
bet," Fighting Devil bragged. "I never miss." It extruded a compressed air
hose and blew the smoke from a smoking gun muzzle. "Ahm here, darlin',
longing for your embrace!" Jonkarta cried leaping forward and throwing wide
the tent flap. Then he screamed in agony as a giant green monster leaped
out and trod him to the ground. "You have destroyed my entire tribe!" he
bellowed and beat his great chest. "I thirst for vengeance and your blood!"
"Tars Tookus. .. you were in the tent, alonewith her! What have you done with
my loved one?" "Guess!" the jolly green giant leered through his tusks as
it leaped aside. "Draw-and defend yourself" Jonkarta's sword leaped to his
hand-which is easier than drawing it-and he roared and attacked. But Tars
Tookus had drawn his sword. Swords. All four of them, which is okay if you
have four arms. Undaunted, Jonkarta pressed home his attack, so fu131
riously that his sword was a whirring circle of steel that forced the green
warrior back despite his four to one advantage. When they were clear of the
tent Jonkarta called out for aid. "Bill-to the tent! See if any harm has
befell my loved one!" Bill circled the battling warriors and poked his head
into the tent and stood, paralyzed. "How is... she?" Jonkarta gasped out
between crashing blows. "She-she looks really great to me!" And she did.
Lolling back on the silken cushions, Dejah Vue was the acme of female beauty.
Her delicate red skinand there was a lot of it showing -glowed with health and
desirability. Mere wisps of transparent and diaphanous cloth revealed rather
than concealed her rounded charms. Breasts like melons fought for freedom.
"Are you... are you all right?" Bill husked. "come here and find out," she
husked in turn. As the tentflap fell behind him the fierce battle was
drawing to a close. Even with four swords, Tars Tookus was no match for
Jonkarta's superior swordsmanship. His upper right arm tired and his opponent
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