Phthor (17 page)

Vex swung up on Sleipnir, riding the middle hump of the three rear sections, between Arlo and Aton. Aton guided her, of course, so that the animal would not object; perfectly legitimate attention. Did their eyes meet momentarily? Arlo wasn’t sure. She was as lovely from the rear as from the front, with a slender waist, generously expanding hips, and perfectly proportioned thighs. He had so recently had the use of that body, but already he wanted it again. Whoever had selected the original model for the minionette had certainly known his business! Of course, all the minionettes were alike, except for Vex’s short hair and faintly human characteristics; that hair would eventually attain its full length and glory. But that didn’t take away from the perfection of his own minionette.

If she were really his own...

Why couldn’t he take one of the other minionettes? Someone like Torment, the one he had met when he first learned of the invasion. Torment would be willing, he was sure, and she was every bit as pretty. Of course, she was old enough to be his grandmother—but that made no difference, really. She was not his grandmother.

It didn’t work, even in his imagination. Only Vex was directly related to him. He had tried to suppress the minion element in himself, but could not; the fact that she was his sister did make a difference. It attracted him to her much more strongly, as though his emotion were sharpened by the

cutting edge of his human guilt. He had been over this before in his mind and found no release.

Then what about the relation between Aton and Vex that fitted the minion pattern even more closely? And why was he dwelling on this now? Vex was his for the duration; she had agreed, and it was not the minion way to deceive.

Yet even as his eyes were on her back, her eyes were on Aton’s back. What was she really seeing?

Sleipnir entered the treadway of the largest neighboring caterpillar. There seemed to be no limit to the expansive properties of these creatures; this one was hundreds of segments long, but always hungry for more. Perhaps it was because its vast bulk required a continual input of organic material. At any rate, the chances were good that it would have several large and recent segments not yet withered into formlessness.

Now they had two approaches: either trace it down or summon it to them. Both had their problems. The caterpillar could be many miles away, resting in some narrow tube so that they would be unable to approach it from the side. But if they summoned it, the creature would be on the offensive, fully alert and dangerous. Their chances of hacking off segments without becoming segments would diminish.

“I’ll summon it,” Vex said. “You two wait in ambush at a crossing.”

The obvious solution! But Arlo was not pleased. This was his project, and he should be the one to make decisions. He didn’t mind deferring to his father, but Vex bothered him. If she started organizing things, she could soon choose which man she wanted to work with....

No, he had no cause for ire. She had chosen to exclude herself. And this dangerous venture might solve their problem another way: if any one of them were killed, there would be no trio.

Arlo reacted to that thought with horror. He loved his father, he loved Vex, he loved his own life. He didn’t want any of them to die! And if a personal decision were finally made, the rather delicate existing truce with Chthon would be broken, and the real trouble would start.

Vex trotted down the caterpillar path toward the potwhale pool. Arlo and Aton moved in the opposite direction, seeking the best intersection. They were silent now, so as not to alert the prey.

“This ax,” Arlo asked once they got settled. He spoke in a low voice, hoping the sound would be carried downwind. “Where did it come from?”

Aton was silent for a moment before answering. “The leader of the prisoners had it,” he said at last.”His name was Bossman. I killed him when he fell to the myxo, so the ax was mine.”.

Arlo rubbed his fingers along his growing red beard. He wanted to know more, but knew the futility of pushing his father. Arlo was now larger and stronger than Aton, but knew that he lacked the intellect of the older man. Arlo would gladly have exchanged some of his muscle for some of that knowledge!

Vex began her commotion, far down the passage. She jumped into the pool with a piercing cry and made a splendid splash. The sound carried beautifully along the tunnel: obviously the caterpillar’s trap was acoustically designed.

Arlo put his ear to the stone. Sure enough, the faint beat of marching feet had started. The caterpillar could not afford to be slow, lest the prey blunder out of the trap or fall instead to the potwhale. Arlo mused briefly on that: what did caterpillar and potwhale think of each other? Were they friends, or did each long to be rid of the other? Did they hold dialogues: “Here, won’t you share this morsel?” “No, thanks; age before beauty.” Arlo suppressed a smile. Caterpillar and potwhale were two of the oldest, ugliest monsters in the caverns.

The segmented monster moved with surprising rapidity. The marching beat accelerated to a run, all feet on a side striking the stone simultaneously. The creature could move very quietly when it chose—but now that the prey was apparently trying to escape, speed was of the essence. One thing about the caterpillar: its segments might lose their heads and forelimbs, but their legs were always strong!

Now that the thing was plunging down the monster-trail, Arlo had serious misgivings. He and Aton were safe; the caterpillar would not leave its path, and could not catch them if it did. But Vex—she was in the pool-circle. Suppose they failed to separate the segments, and she were caught?

There was only one answer: they had to sever the rear segments so that the caterpillar had no stabbing tail. In due course it would regenerate the spear-tail, but meanwhile would be no threat.

The thunder of massed feet became loud. Arlo restrained an urge to flee. Always before, Chthon had rendered the monster quiescent; this was the first time Arlo had had to deal with a caterpillar alone. He stood with the great ax raised, ready to strike as the creature’s latter section came into range.

And the forepart arrived. The head was huge, with enormous faceted eyes and antennae like foot-long fingers. Above the eyes were bone eyebrows: the retracted spurs of a protective grille, that the creature could lower at will over its face. But most awful of all, it had no mouth.

For an instant, one vast eye fixed on Arlo; then it passed on. Arlo stood as the juggernaut rushed by, transfixed by mental horror analogous to the physical horror of the thing’s tail. Those facets, each reflecting his own image slightly distorted, as though his essence were being imprinted on the caterpillar’s brain, so many views of a prospective segment....

Meanwhile the segments shot past like the cars of an LOE freight train, making the green glow of the walls beyond blink on and off at a dizzying rate.

“Strike!” Aton cried.

But Arlo could not move. He had been mesmerized by the terror of that single yet multiple glance of the caterpillar’s eye. He tried to stir himself, to bring down the ax, but his muscles would not respond.

“Now!” Aton cried again, nudging him.

Arlo tried again—and failed again. The ax did not swing, it fell—and the last hurtling segment of the caterpillar caught the blade and wrenched it out of his hands.

Arlo was left disarmed as the beat of feet faded. There was a great lump in his throat, and his eyes were tearing. Suddenly he felt much less like a man, and not at all like a god.

Obviously he was not the one to lead the forces of Life. Aton was the one. Intelligence, experience, and courage counted for so much more than youthful enthusiasm!

Then Aton showed his wisdom, as perhaps Odin had in some similar situation, one or two thousand years before. He did not rant or condemn or even ignore. “I froze too, the first time,” he said calmly. “Now pick up the ax and get moving; we’ll have to tackle it at the pool before it gets Vex.” And he started down the path at a run.

Arlo’s stasis snapped. He swooped up the ax and charged after his father. Sleipnir, who had been grazing on glow, followed.

The pool was close, within a mile in the old human measure. But the cavern predator had moved with such velocity that they had no chance to catch up before it got there. They would have done better to remount Sleipnir. Another mistake—and there was no room in this confined passage to board the steed now, as they would have had to leap over its head.

But the caterpillar had to slow at the pool entrance, for there it worked in competitive coordination with the potwhale. The larger segments barely squeezed through the aperture. That was another aspect of the trap: the caterpillar’s body blocked the opening so neatly that there was no chance for the prey to squeeze by it and escape. Arlo wondered briefly how the creature widened the passages when it needed to; he had never seen a caterpillar cutting rock, but surely it had some method. Maybe the head was able to chip away at it.

Arlo and Aton drew up short. They dared not approach the massive spike of the tail! They would have to wait for it to clear the aperture.
 
Slowly, it did so. Arlo held his axe before him and edged through—only to discover a new obstacle.

The caterpillar’s track circled the pool. Its head was designed to frighten the prey (and now Arlo appreciated how well it did so!), driving it around the circle toward the tail. Then the tail shot out to impale the prey, incorporating it as another walking segment of the creature. So the tail had crossed the aperture on its way back around the pool. The segments near the tail were now passing the entrance, still sealing it off.

“Damn!” Arlo swore explosively, finding satisfaction in the LOE expletive. “I can’t get through!”

Aton looked at him. “Do you want to?”

“Vex is in there!”

“Strike, then.”

Arlo gaped. He had missed the obvious. He could hardly help Vex from inside the pool; the caterpillar and potwhale dominated that arena completely. It was necessary to attack from the side—and here they were in the ideal position!

“It is no shame to be confused, the first time,” Aton said. “Remember: there is always another way—perhaps a better one. Always look for it.”

Valuable lessons! Arlo realized that there was more to assuming leadership than giving directions or deciding broad policy. He had to use his mind—and be ready to accept the advice of those whose minds were better than his.

He braced himself, waited until the slender waist between two segments of the caterpillar passed the opening, and struck. His blow was not as hard as he wanted because he did not have clearance for a full swing.

To his amazement, the ax cut cleanly through the cord, separating the segments. Success! Apparently the caterpillar, so tough in other respects, was not constructed to withstand cutting from the side at the joins.

But the inertia of the creature was such that it continued to move. In a moment, the way was blocked by a new segment.

“All right,” Arlo said. And he severed that one too. After three more cuts, the caterpillar reversed its direction, and the aperture was finally clear.

The two men entered the pool room. This was a highdomed chamber similar to the one Arlo had watched the minionettes engage, but larger. It was completely round and filled with water almost to the rim of the caterpillar ledge. There was just room for a man to walk, and none to pass. At the moment the head and front of the creature were advancing one way; the separated tail, supported by ten segments, was going the other. Between them, the three individual segments stood, lacking direction.

Vex stood directly across the pool. She could not go far either way because the head was traveling slowly toward her, while the tail was closing the gap from the other side. There was, it seemed, enough of the body included with the tail segment to coordinate the whole, even though contact with the head had been lost. The feet marched rhythmically: ten up, ten down.

“Swim across?” Arlo called.

Vex shook her head. She pointed.

Already the monstrous black mass of the potwhale was surfacing. This was no trifle such as he had poked in potholes as wide as the span of his hand; this was a full-grown jelly thing over a hundred feet in diameter. In the center was the circular mouth, big enough to take in a man, and the ropy, long tongue.

The potwhale belched. A cloud of yellow vapor spread out, suffusing the dome with its appalling stench. Water rushed into the hole, draining the last of the slick skinsurface.

The tongue cast about, blindly seeking prey. Arlo knew that it would find Vex quickly enough if she tried to cross the face of this creature. But the tail segment of the caterpillar had almost closed the gap. In a moment she would have to choose between dooms—as did every animal who foolishly entered here.

“I’m going across,” Arlo said. “I’ll cut off the tongue.”

Aton held up his hand warningly. “Is that the only choice?”

Arlo forced himself to pause and think, difficult as that was in this pressing circumstance. And a better way opened up. “We can distract it with caterpillar segments!” he cried. “Any we don’t need ourselves. That will stop both menaces.”

Aton nodded. “Push a couple in, then move on to the tail. Cut off the very last segment, and the tail will fall. Less risk.”

Arlo started around the circle. The nearest segment was too far gone; it lacked any sign of a head, so that it would not be able to respond to directives. He wedged himself in between it and the wall, lifted his knee, and shoved. It toppled into the shallow water covering the fringe of the whale.