Alfred Bester - Biped Reegan

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Biped Reegan, Part 1 THE BIPED, REEGAN

by Alfred Bester

The strongest man, the last woman, at bay against a world that had destroyed

their fellows, take a last grim gamble with eternity that the human race

might

survive.

IF IT please your Imperial Maternity, the day is won. I have here the full

report of the last victory, and if your Imperial Maternity would deign to

listen...?

At the first light our forces were drawn up at the crest of the semicircle of

hills surrounding the bipeds' last citadel. In the ten moons following our

first

attack on their cities, only this last stronghold prevailed. Within were less

than two hundred bipeds. Like a sickle, our armies pressed close.

We were at all times within close observation of the enemy. Spy-alpha had

slipped through their traps and barriers during the dark and had taken up a

post

in the vast room in which the bipeds were accustomed to meet and talk.

Spy-alpha

telecasted to us shortly after the first light that the bipeds were entering

the

room, and all of us picked up his thought band.

They came in slowly, those bipeds, for they were desperate. The big one with

flushed face and beard, called Otis, banged his hand on the table.

"It's hopeless," he said. "What if we do win out?"

The biped with red hair interrupted.

"Not if," he said. "We shall. Chung and I have something new. It can't fail.

We've been working on it for two months. "

Then the biped with slant eyes, the one called Chung, nodded.

"In some ways," he said, "the attack of the ants has worked miracles. First,

ended a war between the Chinese and Whites. Second, it has provided a

necessity

that is proving to be the mother of miracles. Between Ivar's technique and my

theory we have created a new thermodynamics. . ."

"You're too long-winded," Ivar said.

"You're both too optimistic," Otis added. "When do we see this miracle worker

yours? What's it all about?"

"Not yet," Ivar replied. "In three hours it'll be ready for a final

demonstration. Not now."

"And if it works?" Otis asked.

"Then we win," said Chung.

"Win what?" Otis demanded. "A slow and sorry death for the race and two

hundred

men. Two hundred men, I said. You don't seem to understand. The race of men

dead. It died with the last woman. You're only prolonging the inevitable. "

Ivar said: "I'd rather make a fight of it . . . No matter how hopeless it is.

You too, Otis. You're just depressed."

At that moment the vast portal to the room was smashed open and one of the

biped

underlings rushed in. He lifted his hand to his forehead and poured out a

message so excitedly that Spy-alpha had difficulty following, and so did we.

The

gist of it, however, was that the ants were attacking.

Instantly we telecast across the entire field of battle. Not an attack was

reported in progress, although Marshal-gamma announced that he had moved one

hundred thirty thousand of his troops forward slightly to maintain an even

line

across the crest of the ridge. We turned our attention then back to Spy-alpha

the meeting room of the bipeds.

They were in a state of alarm, doubtless convinced from the reported troop

movements that our attack was coming. The red-haired biped, Ivar, was

especially

concerned.

"I must have three hours more," he repeated over and over. "Three hours will

make the difference between success and failure. Can you give Chung and me

three

hours?"

"I'd like to," Otis said, "but how?"

"I'LL tell you how!"

It was the biped, Reegan . . . The one of great daring whose long lean body

and

reckless lean face we had all grown to hate and fear. The numbers of us whom

had killed mounted to the millions. A wave of fury leaped across the

battlefield

as all of us telecast our hatred of Reegan. At the room of the bipeds,

Spy-alpha

warned us to be quiet lest we miss an important detail.

"If we sit here and wait," Reegan snarled, "we can sit and wait until the

ants

make up their minds what they want to do with us. Waiting's no good. It just

plays right into their hands. Ivar wants three hours? Hell, I'll give him

sixty-three."

"How?" asked Otis.

"Counter-attack," Reegan snapped. "Give me a suicide squad. Ten men, that's

all.

I'll go out there and blast the guts off them!"

"The man is crazy," spoke the biped, Chung.

"Sure I'm crazy," Reegan said. "I'm crazy with waiting. I've only got a

lifetime

to live, and I know there's nothing worth living for anyway. If I die and

I've

given Ivar his three hours . . . then what the hell?"

Chung said: "What would you do?"

"I'll take ten men and torches," Reegan said. "I'll go out there and stay out

until I'm dead. It ought to take them three hours to chew me to pieces. Me

and

the rest. . ."

"No," said Otis, "I can't let you."

"I'm going anyway," Reegan said. "I'd like to see you stop me."

He arose to his full height and faced the biped, Otis. He raised hand to brow

languidly and started out of the chamber. Spy-alpha rushed to precede him so

to learn the site of Reegan's attack, and just then the biped Otis clutched

Reegan by the arms.

"One more step," he said, "and I call the guard. No plan is worth your

suicide,

Reegan."

The biped Reegan shook the arm away. Otis clutched him once more and this

time

Reegan raised his fist and smote Otis full in the face. He was already out

the

door when Otis arose and began to shout for the guard. The biped Ivar quieted

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