heat waves danced into the sky.
They were building on a hill. The little creatures that crept and
crawled in the brush attacked in the most vulnerable spot, the food
supply. There was no brush, not a blade of grass, on the hill when the
colonists finished.
* * * * *
Terriers. In the past, they were the hunting dogs of the agricultural
era. What they lacked in size they made up in ferocity toward rodents.
They had earned their keep originally in granaries and fields, and,
for a brief time, they were doing it again on colonial worlds where
conditions were repeated.
The dogs the colonists brought had been terriers. They were still as
fast, still with the same anti-rodent disposition, but they were no
longer small. It had been a difficult job, yet Marin had done it well,
for the dogs had lost none of their skill and speed in growing to the
size of a great dane.
The rats moved in on the fields of fast crops. Fast crops were made to
order for a colonial world. They could be planted, grown, and
harvested in a matter of weeks. After four such plantings, the
fertility of the soil was destroyed, but that meant nothing in the
early years of a colonial planet, for land was plentiful.
The rat tide grew in the fast crops, and the dogs were loosed on the
rats. They ranged through the fields, hunting. A rush, a snap of their
jaws, the shake of a head, and the rat was tossed aside, its back
broken. The dogs went on to the next.
Until they could not see, the dogs prowled and slaughtered. At night
they came in bloody, most of it not their own, and exhausted. Marin
pumped them full of antibiotics, bandaged their wounds, fed them
through their veins, and shot them into sleep. In the morning he
awakened them with an injection of stimulant and sent them tingling
into battle.
It took the rats two days to learn they could not feed during the day.
Not so numerous, they came at night. They climbed on the vines and
nibbled the fruit. They gnawed growing grain and ravaged vegetables.
The next day the colonists set up lights. The dogs were with them,
discouraging the few rats who were still foolish enough to forage
while the sun was overhead.
An hour before dusk, Marin called the dogs in and gave them an
enforced rest. He brought them out of it after dark and took them to
the fields, staggering. The scent of rats revived them; they were as
eager as ever, if not quite so fast.
The rats came fro
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