SECOND VARIETY
ILLUSTRATED BY EBEL
The claws were bad enough in the firstplace—nasty, crawling little death-robots.But when they began to imitatetheir creators, it was time for thehuman race to make peace—if it could!
The Russian soldier made hisway nervously up the raggedside of the hill, holding his gunready. He glanced around him,licking his dry lips, his face set.From time to time he reachedup a gloved hand and wipedperspiration from his neck, pushingdown his coat collar.
Eric turned to Corporal Leone.“Want him? Or can I have him?”He adjusted the view sight so theRussian’s features squarely filledthe glass, the lines cutting acrosshis hard, somber features.
Leone considered. The Russianwas close, moving rapidly, almostrunning. “Don’t fire. Wait.”Leone tensed. “I don’t thinkwe’re needed.”
The Russian increased hispace, kicking ash and piles ofdebris out of his way. He reachedthe top of the hill and stopped,panting, staring around him. Thesky was overcast, drifting cloudsof gray particles. Bare trunks oftrees jutted up occasionally; theground was level and bare,rubble-strewn, with the ruins ofbuildings standing out here andthere like yellowing skulls.
The Russian was uneasy. Heknew something was wrong. Hestarted down the hill. Now hewas only a few paces from thebunker. Eric was getting fidgety.He played with his pistol, glancingat Leone.
“Don’t worry,” Leone said.“He won’t get here. They’ll takecare of him.”
“Are you sure? He’s got damnfar.”
“They hang around close to thebunker. He’s getting into thebad part. Get set!”
The Russian began to hurry,sliding down the hill, his bootssinking into the heaps of grayash, trying to keep his gun up.He stopped for a moment, liftinghis fieldglasses to his face.
“He’s looking right at us,”Eric said.
The Russian came on. Theycould see his eyes, like two bluestones. His mouth was open alittle. He needed a shave; hischin was stubbled. On one bonycheek was a square of tape,showing blue at the edge. A fungoidspot. His coat was muddyand torn. One glove was missing.As he ran his belt counterbounced up and down againsthim.
Leone touched Eric’s arm.“Here one comes.”
Across the ground somethingsmall and metallic came, flashingin the dull sunlight of mid-day. Ametal sphere. It raced up thehill after the Russian, its treadsflying. It was small, one of thebaby ones. Its claws were out,two razor projections spinningin a blur of white steel. TheRussia