Phthor (16 page)

Odin’s second son by Frigga was Thor, red-bearded god of thunder. That could only be—Arlo himself! And Thor’s wife was Sif, of the golden hair—considered in some versions to be another aspect of Freyja, Odin’s first wife. In short—Vex, another minionette, closely related to Malice.

Bedside had cut Vex’s hair, just as Loki cut Sif’s. The parallels fell into place so neatly; he should have perceived them long ago!

Yet how did this help him to solve his problem with Vex? By whatever name, he loved her, though she was his sister. Though? His minion blood compelled the truth: because she was his sister! Sif might be an aspect of Freyja, and the gods might tolerate father-daughter marriage—but Arlo wanted Vex for himself.

He turned to his friend. “You were right. The minionette had nothing for me. What do you offer?”

Chthon showed him. The power of the mineral intellect flowed into his being, and he was able to control the animals of the cave: to make them stop, turn, march—at his will, not theirs. He could perceive through their senses, individually or multiply. He could station them on three sides of a stalagmite and see that pillar in the round, holographically. Much better than his human eye! The entire caverns became open to his comprehension, without physical travel on his part. Godlike power, indeed!

The minionettes were still advancing. Their minds were opaque; they had not submitted to the myxo inducement and were not part of Chthon’s demesnes. They were a brutal, alien intrusion, cutting into the heart of the living caverns, killing the eyes and ears and noses of Chthon.

“If I were running this war...” Arlo murmured.

Run it, Chthon replied. For this you were cultivated.

So that was it! Chthon was not competent to combat the massed minionette attack and needed a general. Chthon had foreseen the potential need for the generalship of a human mind to ward off such an invasion by human beings—at least until the killchill deadline had passed.

“But then I, too, will die!” Arlo cried, realizing.

No. Even as I spare your mother the chill, I spare you the killchill.

“Spare my family, too!” Arlo bargained.

We spare all life within this planet, Chthon assured him. All other life shall be extirpated.

Arlo hesitated. What did he care about life outside the caverns? His world was here. “Fair enough.”

He concentrated. He summoned the most mobile creatures of the caverns: the large chippers, flying chimeras, small salamanders, and others. The caterpillars, potwhales, and dragons were limited largely to their private habitats; they could be useful, but not as mobile troops. He moved his creatures into the labyrinth surrounding the most forward column of minionettes. Then he sent them charging, in a many-sectioned wave, striking, biting, shoving.

The minionettes, attacked from all sides, fought bravely. But they were overwhelmed. The poison of the salamanders did the most damage, for they infiltrated undetected during the distraction provided by the larger beasts. Arlo didn’t even have to direct them once they spied the prey; they attacked savagely, for it was their nature. And—the minionettes, enjoying the sheer hate of the salamanders’ little minds, tended not to protect themselves well from the bites, though the poison had the same effect on them as on normal Human flesh.

“Organization and attack,” Arlo said to Chthon. “Pick your site, gather your forces—and victory is certain. Don’t wait for them to strike! They’ve never faced organized animals before and don’t really believe it is possible. Wipe out every member of an attacked party, and it will be some time before they catch on. With luck, we’ll get enough so they can no longer muster effective missions.”

Then something else claimed his attention. He focused— and found he was in the mind of Doc Bedside. This was intriguing; the man was only half-controlled, but he responded quickly to suggestions, and the human brain and experience was phenomenally more complex than the animal. If this were what half a human mind offered, how much better a full one!

And Arlo himself was that full mind. Raised, like the animals of the caverns, right here in the bosom of Chthon, so that communication was possible without the intercession of the myxo. Possible, but not assured; the human mind had to be amenable. Not a zombie, but a partner, drawing on Chthon’s immense resources, contributing his own. The ideal collaboration!

He did not try to control Bedside. He merely drew from the mad doctor’s senses. These at the moment were orienting on Vex; that was what had attracted Arlo’s attention. He was surprised to learn that Bedside found Vex physically attractive—but what male wouldn’t? The two were nevertheless enemies.

“Let me through, zombie, or I’ll ram your head through a wall!” Vex snapped. “I want to talk to Arlo again.”

“Talk to me,” Bedside said. “Arlo is in conference with Chthon, and shall not be disturbed again.”

She charged him. Now Arlo assumed control. He caught her lifted arm, put one foot against hers, shifted his weight to bring her off-balance, and spun her by him and on down. She stumbled but recovered, facing him, panting—and Bedside’s perception was as responsive to the heave of her perfect breasts as Arlo was. “So you want to fight!” she snarled. Even twisted by genuine rage, her face was a lovely thing.

“I am Arlo,” Arlo said through Bedside’s mouth. The

words were somewhat slurred, because it was the first try, but he knew it would not take long to adjust.

She stared at him, shocked, and despite the opacity of her mind he felt the fringe of her emotion: pleasant acceptance. That actually would be irritated incredulity, if the reversal held for her broadcasting as well as for her reception. But mixed emotion was difficult to interpret anyway. “Why so you are! How- ?”

“What did you have to say to me?”

Now she faltered.”Could I talk to you, personally? I don’t like him listening.” She meant Bedside.

“All the caverns are listening,” Arlo said, with moderate but intentional cruelty.

“But he enjoys it too much.”

Accurate assessment! Bedside would have been happy to have Arlo make love to her, using Bedside’s body. That would have created a complex of emotions like that of Morning Haze, Misery, and the dying Xest. Arlo sent Bedside away.

Vex approached his body. Now he animated it, as he had Bedside’s, without actually reentering it. His mind was with Chthon; only his perception and control extended to the physical mechanism. Chthon was correct: the Arlo brain, sane, competent and compatible, was the finest instrument available in all the caverns. With that tool, Chthon could win the war with the minionettes. But he merely listened, not responding overtly.

Vex knelt beside him, as she had before. “I tried to compromise, Arlo, to make it right for you. But you wouldn’t have it that way. I was thinking Minion, not Human, and I’m sorry. But it is time for complete candor between us. Your folks wanted you to have a human girl so you would not grow up alone, without the chance for love. Bedside said he’d arrange it, with Chthon’s consent. But your Uncle Benjamin outmaneuvered us all and substituted me. None of you knew I was a minionette until too late. Chthon was first to realize, but you balked it from killing me. Then Chthon reversed the ploy by bringing me together with Aton. So it has been some tough infighting, with you and I both pawns.

“But I do love you, Arlo. On Minion, you would have killed your father to possess me, and it would have been all right. Aton killed his father, really, to possess my mother. But you don’t have enough minion blood. Well, I have a mission to perform, and that has to override my nature. Because without that mission, there will be nothing, nothing at all—except Chthon. No love, no life, no nature. So I have to assume that my father is dead, and that you are the senior surviving Five. Because we do need you, Arlo. You know the caves better than any sane man—and no man from the galaxy can resist the myxo. The minionettes must ultimately follow a man; it is the way we are constituted. Without the animation of a strong man, one with minion blood, our effort must weaken and fail, as it is doing already. You will have to prove yourself—but I believe in you, and not merely because I love you. I know you can do it.

“You have won, Arlo. I will be your bride, faithful to you. Only come back to us and command the forces of Life.”

She waited, but he did not respond. “I won’t even tease you, Arlo,” she added. “Your love is my pain, but I am quarter-human. I can take it without dying. Do what you will with me; feel what you will. I will never bear a son to replace you, if that is your preference. Anything—”

It will not work, Chthon warned. You do not want a broken woman. Torture is not your way.

All I want is her, Arlo responded. I will accept her offer without implementing it. It is enough that she came to me.

But I offer you so much more, Chthon said. Why give up all this for the sake of one girl you cannot be happy with?

Chthon was right and Chthon was reasonable, and Chthon was making no threats. Chthon was his friend, even in this adversity. But Arlo was already sitting up, taking Vex into his arms.

Chapter V:
   
Thor

The tide of battle had turned. The cavern creatures were now organized and on the attack, cutting off and surrounding segments of the minionette army and annihilating them by living-sea charges. Arlo recognized the strategy, for he had developed it himself. No doubt Chthon was now using Bedside’s mind to organize the individual actions. Bedside would not be as creative—but Chthon had so many expendable animals that it could soon wipe out the entire forces of Life. All that had been needed was that one spark of creative thought that Arlo had provided.

No wonder Chthon had let him go without a fight. Arlo had already provided Chthon with the key to victory.

According to the mythology of LOE, the forces of Good were to suffer defeat at Ragnarok. Setting aside the question of which side represented Good and which Evil—for Arlo was not certain himself whether Life could seriously, be equated with Good—there remained substantial doubt. No matter what, the gods would not prevail; it was the end of the system. What use, then, to struggle?

“Chthon’s winning,” Arlo told Vex as he surveyed the situation. “The farther our troops penetrate the caverns, the more difficult it becomes for us. Our supply lines get longer, and we encounter more controlled animals. It’s the Hard Trek all over again. We can’t sustain our present rate of losses. We’ll be wiped out.”

“We are well aware of that,” she said.”The moment you went to Chthon, we started suffering disasters. We have contingents from the four major sentients of the galaxy, but we can’t coordinate them properly. That’s why we knew we had to have you back. You are the key to victory—either way.”

“I doubt it. I have already given Chthon what it needed: organization of the monsters. I can’t unorganize them, now that I’m on the other side. And—it is written in LOE that the gods will be defeated at Ragnarok.”

“Nonsense!” she flashed, and he noticed with pleasure that her reactions on the intellectual plane were completely human by his definition. A minionette without telepathy would be like any other woman, only more beautiful. “Don’t you see, Chthon fed you that whole Norse mythos, knowing that if you accepted all the other neat little parallels—Aesir, the Norns, even that damned eight-footed horse, yet!—if you swallowed all that, you’d have to accept that version of Ragnarok, too. You’re the key; if you believe we’ll lose, then we’ll lose, no matter which side you think you’re fighting on. Why do you think Chthon let you go so easily? Because you’re really fighting on its side—so long as you believe!”

“I don’t know,” Arlo temporized, shaken by her logic. The cute, difficult child he had rescued had grown a mind as thorough as her body! “There are so many monsters that no matter what I might think, the battle still would—”

“You have to believe in the victory of Life!” she cried. “Your framework is reversed, like my emotions—but intellectually we both must overcome our handicaps. And we can! You have to lead us in the fight. You’re Thor, ruler of the gods!”

Arlo chuckled. “See? Even you believe in the Norse parallels.”

“I do not! It was just a figure of—”

“You’re awfully pretty when you’re mad.”

She swung about, showing her teeth in no smile. “Are you going to get yourself a cart drawn by two billy goats, then, to be like Thor? And put on gloves and a girdle and—”

But Arlo kissed her. “It’s the minion way,” he said. “The madder you get, the more I love you. Let’s make love.”

“The hell!”

He raised his forefinger to her nose. “You have a short memory.”

She paused, and gradually the blaze died. “Is that what it’s like—from your side?”

“Yes, actually. Didn’t you know? You always had to make me angry before you waxed affectionate. Turnabout—”

“I guess I knew. I didn’t feel. If you know what I mean.”

“Serves you right.” He drew her to him, and she acquiesced without resistance, as she had to.

“Wouldn’t it be nice,” she murmured sadly, “if we could reverse the telepathy. I mean, turn it about so that we both perceived love the same. So we’d be in positive phase—mad together, loving together.”

“The whole history of Planet Minion would have been different,” he said, proceeding with his lovemaking. Though it was what he had wanted, somehow this unilateral action lacked the fire of their prior experiences. One word to Vex, and she would turn on exactly the right amount of passion— but that was not what he wanted, either.”Minionettes would not have been proof against Chthon’s myxo...”

“But Aton wouldn’t have been sent to Chthon, and this battle never would have started.”

“And you never would have been born—or me,” he said, completing his act.

Vex cried out in anguish as he climaxed. For a moment he thought he had killed her, as Aton had killed Malice. In an agony of remorse, he leaned over her—and now she smiled. “I told you I could survive. I’m quarter-human, you know.” Then she fainted.

She had survived—but he was hardly reassured. She was so beautiful, and under that lush female exterior remained so much of the impish child that distinguished her from all the other minionettes in his estimation. That child had captivated him completely. Yet she was not truly his, any more than if she were chained to the wall like a slave for his convenience.

Had she loved him as he loved her, she surely would have died. But—she had wanted it this way, for whatever reason, and the hvee was bright.

He put that line of thought aside and tackled his other problem. He had to reorganize the forces of Life, to turn the battle about. That was what he was being paid for. Vex was right: this might be Ragnarok—but the actual alignment of Good and Evil was uncertain and the outcome could not be predetermined. He needed to review the troops, study new options, develop new strategy.

Chthon could see every portion of the caverns simultaneously. Wherever there were animals... and Chthon could send its animals anywhere. Unless—

Unless a portion of the caverns were completely cleared of animals. That would deprive Chthon of its perceptions, and allow the minionettes to make surprise attacks—from that opaque region.

But how could every living creature be eliminated, even the tiny flying insectoids? And how could he deceive Chthon about his intentions, even though he could keep the cavern entity out of his mind? Better to let Chthon think he was still acting in predictable ways, until he could diverge with complete surprise.

He left Vex, only attuning himself to her aura so as to be assured no harm came to her. This was a power he retained after his experience with Chthon: he could not control the animals of the caverns, but his natural fragment of minion emotional telepathy had been enhanced. Just as he had shown Chthon the key to effective action against the minionettes, Chthon had shown him the key to a more controlled mental power. He ran to the cave where Aton worked, heating and working the precious metals into rings over a powerful gas jet.

“I have to get around the caverns faster,” Arlo said. “And I need a good weapon. Could I borrow Sleipnir?”

Aton considered. He had a patch of glassy rock over his eye, shielding it from the rebound of the intense flame, and wore heavy gloves on his hands. He hardly looked like an artisan—but he was. His rings were very finely crafted. “Son, we’re part of this battle too. Our truce with Chthon can’t last much longer. Get Coquina out of the caverns, and I’ll ride Sleipnir myself in the service of Life’s army. You can’t control him as I can.”

“How can Mother leave the caverns?” Arlo asked. “The chill would kill her!” But it was true: the hostage state of his mother had to be abated, for Chthon could kill her as readily as the chill could.

“Not if they set up heated facilities on the surface and monitored her telepathically. It might not work, but we can’t depend on Chthon anymore.”

“That’s right.” But Arlo was uneasy. Why hadn’t Chthon already acted against Aton and Coquina?

Considering his mother, he realized why: if anything happened to Coquina, Aton would be immediately free of any emotional restraint. He would be open to the lure of the minionette: his daughter Vex. That would be too much to resist, and Arlo would lose her despite her concession to him. Then he would have no choice but to return to Chthon. But—the elimination of Coquina for such a reason would alienate Arlo from Chthon irrevocably. He would never cooperate with the killer of his mother—or with the one who set in motion the chain of events that cost him his fiancee.

“No,” Arlo said. “Mother stays here. Chthon will not harm her. But if we moved her from the caverns, and then she died, Chthon would gain.” Because then her death would not have been of Chthon’s doing, and Arlo would know it.

Aton looked at him, eyes narrowed, and Arlo was reminded forcefully that his father was half-minion. How much telepathy did he have? “What about Vex?” Aton asked.

That was more complicated. If Vex died, Arlo would lose his main reason for rejoining Life. But again, if she died as a result of Chthon’s action, Arlo would be doubly determined to wipe out Chthon. While she lived, that prospect for interaction between her and Aton remained—which could disunify Life’s forces and send Arlo back to the cavern god.

Chthon was gambling with events, perhaps knowing that there was more than an even chance for success this way even though the physical battle might be lost. The war was being waged on many levels. “She is also safe,” Arlo said.

“But you and I are not?” Aton inquired.

Another complex question. If Aton took up arms against Chthon, and died, could Arlo blame the cavern entity? Yet that would eliminate any prospect of an Aton/Vex liaison. So probably Aton was safe too. As for Arlo himself—Chthon would not kill him so long as there was any chance of converting him. But if there were no chance and Arlo’s activities threatened Chthon’s own existence, then there would be no choice: Chthon would act against Arlo. And if Arlo died, Aton, Coquina, and Vex would become expendable. “We are less safe than the women,” Arlo said, “but Chthon will not move directly against us, at first.”

“So you need transportation of your own,” Aton said, returning to the original subject.

“Two goats and a cart,” Arlo agreed, half in jest.

“The problem with animals is that they are subject to Chthon’s control,” Aton said. “We can make a wagon—but the animals would haul it only where Chthon directed. Actually, no wheeled vehicle would serve very well here—”

“No, of course not!” Arlo agreed ruefully. There went another prop in the mythology. Too bad, because the notion had its appeal, and he did want to follow the forms of the Norse example as much as possible, to reassure Chthon about his supposedly patterned thinking.

“Maybe a sledge,” Aton said. “Something that slides over the irregularities.”

Good idea! Aton still had an excellent mind, and of course he was basically smarter than Arlo, as Odin was smarter than Thor. Still—”It would take a strong animal to haul that.”

“Or a pair of them. But control—”

“How do you control Sleipnir?”

“I’m. not sure. I think the caterpillar phase destroyed so much of his mind that there isn’t enough left for Chthon to take over. But then, I’m not sure Chthon has ever tried.”

“Maybe if we freed a couple of caterpillar segments from a new caterpillar—”

“Worth a try,” Aton said. He put aside his ring and doffed his protective lens.

Arlo was surprised and gratified at his father’s acquiescence. He realized belatedly that one of the horrors of the Vex situation was that it was forcing an antagonism between Arlo and Aton—an antagonism neither wanted. How much better to work together!

Aton had tried to do right by his son, providing a human girl from outside. He had not known that a minionette would be substituted—or who that minionette would be. How could he? He had not known he had a daughter! In this devious transaction, the morality of the leadership of Life was thrown into question. Perhaps Life was the side of Evil, destined to be victorious. Did he want that? Yet whichever side he chose became the side of Evil if it won. The mythological parallel could not be accepted; yet it pervaded the struggle.

In this venture, simple as it seemed, of fashioning suitable transportation, father and son were not only doing battle against Chthon. They were opposing the baleful influence of Minion—whose blood, deriving from the common source of Malice, joined them both to Vex. A difficult human equation—yet perhaps it could be solved.

Aton fetched his huge double-bitted ax and handed it to Arlo. “Rite of passage,” he said.

Arlo accepted it. He did not know the literal meaning of the phrase but understood that if he were to exercise leadership, this was the tool with which to prove it. His father was giving him every chance to be the man he had to be. He had half-feared jealousy or competition from Aton, but saw now that his father cared primarily for the welfare of Life and the success of his son. That was wonderful support!

They moved out. And—Vex appeared. “Where?” she asked.

“Caterpillar hunting,” Arlo said shortly. This was one thing he didn’t want her involved in, and not merely because of the danger.

“I’m in this fight, too,” she said. “I can help.”

Arlo couldn’t argue with that. Actually, he could have summoned a minionette squad, knowing they would obey him now, but feared it would alert Chthon. He presumed that the sheer multiplicity of information coming in from all over the caverns would keep Chthon occupied, so that the cavern god would not pay attention to what Arlo was doing so long as it seemed innocuous or in keeping with the Norse framework. Ragnarok was no simple operation! And since Chthon could not enter his mind unless he permitted it, there was no giveaway there. Aton and Vex were similarly secure; Chthon would have to observe them from the eyes of the animals in the region. This would look like a meat-hunting expedition.