Entities: The Selected Novels of Eric Frank Russell (137 page)

“Bill,” he mouthed, “your bee analogy was perfect. Don’t you understand? There’s another swarm! A queen got loose!”

There was another swarm all right. For the next forty-eight hours it played merry hell. Burman spent the whole time down at headquarters trying to convince them that his evidence wasn’t just a fantastic story, but what helped him to persuade the police of his veracity was the equally fantastic reports that came rolling in.

To start with, old Gildersome heard a crash in his shop at midnight, thought of his valuable stock of cameras and miniature movie projectors, pulled on his pants and rushed downstairs. A razor-share instrument stabbed him through the right instep when halfway down, and he fell the rest of the way. He lay there, badly bruised and partly stunned, while things clicked, ticked and whirred in the darkness and the gloom. One by one, all the contents of his box of expensive lenses went through a hole in the door. A quantity of projector cogs and wheels went with them.

Ten people complained of being robbed in the night of watches and alarm clocks. Two were hysterical. One swore that the bandit was “a six-inch cockroach” which purred like a toy dynamo. Getting out of bed, he'd put his foot upon it and felt its cold hardness wriggle away from beneath him. Filled with revulsion, he'd whipped his foot back into bed “just as another cockroach scuttled toward him.” Burman did not tell that agitated complainant how near he had come to losing his foot.

Thirty more reports rolled in next day. A score of houses had been entered and four shops robbed by things that had the agility and furtiveness of rats—except that they emitted tiny ticks and buzzing noises. One was seen racing along the road by a homing railway worker. He tried to pick it up, lost his forefinger and thumb, stood nursing the stumps until an ambulance rushed him away.

Rare metals and fine parts were the prey of these ticking marauders. I couldn’t see how Burman or anyone else could wipe them out once and for all, but he did it. He did it by baiting them like rats. I went around with him, helping him on the job, while he consulted a map.

“Every report,” said Burman, “leads to this street. An alarm clock that suddenly sounded was abandoned near here. Two automobiles were robbed of small parts near here. Shuttles have been seen going to or from this area. Five cats were dealt with practically on this spot. Every other incident has taken place within easy reach.”

“Which means,” I guessed, “that the queen is somewhere near this point?”

“Yes.” He stared up and down the quiet empty street over which the crescent moon shed a sickly light. It was two o’clock in the morning. “We’ll settle this matter pretty soon!”

He attached the end of a reel of firm cotton to a small piece of silver chain, nailed the reel to the wall, dropped the chain on the concrete. I did the same with the movement of a broken watch. We distributed several small cogs, a few clock wheels, several camera fitments, some small, tangled bunches of copper wire, and other attractive oddments.

Three hours later, we returned accompanied by the police. They had mallets and hammers with them. All of us were wearing steel leg-and-foot shields knocked up at short notice by a handy sheet-metal worker.

The bait had been taken! Several cotton strands had broken after being unreeled a short distance, but others were intact. All of them either led to or pointed to a steel grating leading to a cellar below an abandoned warehouse. Looking down, we could see a few telltale strands running through the window frame beneath.

Burman said, “Now!” and we went in with a rush. Rusty locks snapped, rotten doors collapsed, we poured through the warehouse and into the cellar.

There was a small, coffin-shaped thing against one wall, a thing that ticked steadily away while its lenses stared at us with ghastly lack of emotion. It was very similar to the Robot Mother, but only a quarter of the size. In the light of a police torch, it was a brooding, ominous thing of dreadful significance. Around it, an active clan swarmed over the floor, buzzing and ticking in metallic fury.

Amid angry whirs and the crack of snapping scalpels on steel, we waded headlong through the lot. Burman reached the coffin first, crushing it with one mighty blow of his twelve-pound hammer, then bashing it to utter rain with a rapid succession of blows. He finished exhausted. The daughter of the Robot Mother was no more, nor did her alien tribe move or stir.

Sitting down on a rickety wooden case, Burman mopped his brow and said, “Thank heavens that’s done!”

Tick-tick-tick!

He shot up, snatched his hammer, a wild look in his eyes.

“Only my watch,” apologized one of the policemen. “It’s a cheap one, and it makes a hell of a noise.” He pulled it out to show the worried Burman.

“Tick! tick!"
said the watch, with mechanical aplomb.

The following people helped produce this book that you are reading.

Technical help was provided by Mark L. Olson, Tony Lewis, Tim Szczesuil, Deb Geisler, Mike Benveniste, Mark Hertel, Ted Atwood, Dave Anderson, and Alice Lewis.

Proofreading was done by Ann Broomhead, him Szczesuil, Mark L. Olson, Dave Anderson, Tony Lewis, Bonnie Atwood, Joe Rico, Mark Hertel, George Flynn, Pam Fremon, Lisa Hertel, Mark Hertel, Suford Lewis, Priscilla Olson, Kelly S. Persons, and Sharon Sbarsky.

The dust jacket design was created by Alice Lewis.

Final copy editing of various portions of the book were done by the following people: George Flynn, Ann Broomhead, Tim Szczesuil, Mark L. Olson and Priscilla Olson.

A very special thanks to Dick Spelman who donated the Del Rey editions that were sacrificed to help produce this book.

The book was set in Adobe Garamond using Adobe Pagemaker and printed by Sheridan Books of Ann Arbor, Michigan, on acid- free paper.

Rick Katze July, 2001

The following people helped produce the second printing.

Proofreading was done by the following NESFAns: Bonnie Atwood, Gay Ellen Dennett, Pam Fremon, Tony Lewis, Mark L. Olson, Sharon Sbarsky and Tim Szczesuil.

Special thanks to Dave Cortesi who sent in a very useful list of typos from the first printing.

Technical support came from Deb Geisler, Geri Sullivan, Mark L. Olson, Tony Lewis, Mike Benveniste, Dave Anderson and Ted Atwood.

Rick Katze August 2, 2007

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