“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 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 to 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 insistent 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 fiancée.
“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 force 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/Ve
x 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 that 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.
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 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 ha
d 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 mind. 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 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 dialogue: “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.