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                                  Andrew Roller Presents
 
                                     PERMANENT PERIGEE

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         Anton was hungry.  He peered through the gloom at the bulkhead.  A 
winding flight of stairs clung to the upright partition.  A clutter of 
splintered crates and heavy appliances lay at the bottom of the stairway.  
A tangle of corpses sprawled amidst the makeshift barrier.  Anton 
wondered whether there were any dead Controllers left in the heap.
         Someone near Anton coughed up phlegm.  All around him dark figures 
crept forward through the knot of charred bushes.
         "Now!"  a hoarse voice cried.
         The band of people rushed forward.  Gunfire burst from the landing at 
the top of the stairs.  A woman near Anton screamed.  He ran faster.  A 
toppled refrigerator loomed in the darkness.  Anton dove behind it.  The 
door was missing.  He pulled a limp form from the refrigerator.  Was it a 
Controller?  Anton recognized the face.  It was Viola.
         Anton crawled inside the gutted appliance.  It smelled of rotted 
flesh.  Several bullets ricocheted off the refrigerator.  Anton gazed back 
at the clump of bare shrubbery.  It was twenty meters behind him.  Anton 
heard a shout and the enfilade abruptly ceased.  He surmised that someone 
had crawled up the stairs and killed the sniper.  Anton licked his lips.  He 
rolled out of the refrigerator and leapt over it.
         Anton joined the group as it clambered up the stairs.  A minute later 
he was on the landing.  Anton stepped onto the terrace atop the bulkhead.  
He cast his eyes about in search of the sharpshooter's body.  It was gone.  
Anton spied two men huddled in a corner.  One caught Anton's gaze and 
eyed him maliciously.  Anton quickly looked away.
         Several overturned tables gave the only indication that the veranda 
had once been a restaurant.  Great panes of translucent glass had once 
formed the back wall of the gallery.  Now rows of cinder blocks walled off 
the control center of the space colony.  Several burly men beat on a steel 
door set in the wall.  Anton drew a sharp kitchen knife from his belt.  All 
his life he had wanted to get inside the control center.  His mind raced 
with visions of what must lay inside.  He drooled at the thought of the 
succulent inhabitants.  
         Lori worked quickly.  She pressed a series of bright buttons on a 
console.
         "Novosibirsk Two, this is the Calendonia," Lori reported in Russian.  
"We should have a docking procedure worked out in five minutes, max."  
She shouted to be heard above the din outside the control room.
         "Repeat please, Calendonia," the Soviets requested.
         Lori spun about in her chair and yelled to a man across the room.
         "Can't you stop that riot out there?"
         "Lori," the man replied gently.  "There are only three of us now."  
Lori's face went pale.
         "Where's Robbie?"  Lori shrieked.
         A man poring over sheets of computer printouts looked up and 
shouted, "He's in the stomaches of those bastards outside!"
         Lori began to sob.
         "Still can't read you, Calendonia," the voice from the space freighter 
Novosibirsk Two crackled through Lori's desk top receiver.
         Anton pummeled the cinderblock wall with a wrought iron table leg.  
He had already beaten through one layer of blocks, he was working on the 
second.  Suddenly the reverberating din was broken by whoops of triumph.  
Anton turned to see figures scrambling through a hole that had been 
knocked in the wall.
         A salvo of shot streamed out of the cavity.  The crowd pressed Anton 
toward the opening.  Then, suddenly, the fusillade stopped.  Anton climbed 
through the gap.  For a moment he just stood and gaped at the long rows of 
blinking computer banks.  Then Anton ran forward, propelled by the 
emptiness in his stomach.
         The lifelong dreams of everyone in the room were shattered in the 
next few minutes.  The lives of Lori and her two companions ended in a 
nightmare as their last refuge in the space colony was overrun and they, 
and their scant supplies of food, were devoured by the first cannibals to 
get through the broken wall alive.  Anton's dream, shared by the people in 
the assemblage milling about, that the control room was a bounteous 
cornucopia of palatable delights that had been withheld from him by evil 
Controllers who had hoped to starve him and force him to engage in 
perverse ways of satisfying his stomach, crumbled quickly with every 
passing emaciated second.  Anton smashed his table leg against a gleaming 
cabinet in frustration, breaking an array of Formica panels and the 
delicate circuitry beneath.  Anton snarled at a glowing screen above the 
cabinet.  He couldn't read the type that flashed upon it.

Priority:  Alpha.

Subject:  Space colony Calendonia.

Subject description:  Contains the last Homo sapiens known to exist after 
the War.  See amendment.

Priority description:  Subject's orbit around the Earth decaying rapidly.  
Subject to reenter Earth's atmosphere in 12:47 minutes.

Amendment:  Space freighter discovered 02:05 days ago.  Name:  
Novosibirsk Two.  Condition:  Good.  (See record 4B715-H for available 
details.)  Occupants:  Undetermined number of Homo sapiens (estimate 27), 
all male.  Results of contact:  Expressed willingness to dock with subject 
and pull it to a higher orbit.

Priority:  Alpha.

         Anton rammed his table leg through the screen.  His gnarled hands 
tore open the television.
         "The Controllers must be hiding!"  he conjectured.
         Anton seized a desk top receiver.  He was stunned when a voice 
spoke from it.
         "Calendonia, this is Novosibirsk Two," it identified itself in Russian.  
To Anton it could have identified itself in Igorot.
         "We regret to inform you that you have now entered Earth's 
atmosphere.  We no longer have the ability to aid you.  We're very sorry 
things worked out this way.  We'll miss you."
         Anton seized the speaker.
         "There they are!"  he guessed.  "The Controllers are hiding in there!"  
Anton ripped off the plastic housing.  His stubby fingers dug out a lattice 
of wires.  Nothing.
         All around Anton the mob went mad.  A man was trampled to death in 
the desperate search for food.  The multitude fought to determine who 
would get to consume him.  More people were killed in the scuffle.  
Frustration turned to rage.
         Perspiration streamed down Anton's forehead and stung his eyes.  He 
leapt into the confluence.  Anton threw a woman out of his way as he 
struggled to reach the food at the center of the throng.  The woman fell 
against one of the control room's three metal walls.  In the last few 
minutes the wall had become very hot.  It scalded the woman.  The horde 
became delirious at the smell of roasted flesh.  It knocked Anton down and 
rushed toward the wall.  Suddenly the room tipped on its side.
         Anton dazedly lifted his bruised face off the floor.  He couldn't 
believe his eyes.  His dreams had come true after all.  Below him, against 
the wall, lay two dozen broiled bodies.  Anton began to climb over a fallen 
file cabinet.  With a roar a sheet of flame burst through the floor just 
beyond the cabinet, blocking Anton's view of the carcasses.  The fire 
seared Anton.  He was surprised beyond belief.  His entire physique was 
metamorphosing into food.  Anton eagerly bent forward and bit into his 
forearm.  

THE END

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