It was a soldier from the garrison. Blood trickled from his lips and one arm hung in a queer position at his side. The skin was hideously burnt and blackened where a heat-ray had caught him full in the face. Hallihan knew the man was dying as he collapsed in his arms, insanely babbling: "Managed to 'scape ... got all rest, but managed to 'scape ... must tell you, Serg'nt ... must tell you ... all rest dead...."
Staley's car came to a jarring halt beside them and the alarmed captain jumped out, his emotionless features softening with pity as he saw the man's condition. The soldier was talking again, and Staley bent close to the mutilated mouth to catch all of the feeble words.
"All dead ... all dead ... Squeakers s'prised us 'n' took garrison ... thousand Squeakers ... thousand Squeakers in garrison ... no chance ... all dead...."
Captain Staley straightened, and his eyes were steely as he turned to Hallihan. He waited while Hallihan let the soldier gently to the ground and assigned a man to watch over him.
"It was a gross mistake to leave such a small complement of men at the garrison," Captain Staley said bitterly. "I seriously doubt that we can recapture it. If those creatures have enough intelligence to load and fire the four atomic cannons, our sidearms will be of little use. They'll slaughter us to the last man. But we've got to try, Sergeant. Understand? We've _got_ to try."
"Yes, Sir." Hallihan saluted and turned, grim-lipped, to the waiting men. "We're returning to the garrison, men," he said simply. "'Bout face!"
The B.D.s scattered as the I.P. men plowed through them, but reformed behind the swift-moving columns and scurried anxiously after them. Another group of the curious creatures joined their fellows, swelling the ranks to fifty. They made a strange sight as they hustled along over the rocky ground, the dire-eyed sergeant belching out his eternal, "Ung! Ung, ungh, ugh. Ungh! Ungh, ungh--"
"If only those crazy bucket-heads would help us fight the Squeakers," Hallihan thought unhappily. "But they can't. They're just dumb mimics. They wouldn't know one end of a heat-ray from the other." Then he forgot about the B.D.s and started thinking about his shrieking feet.