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. There 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 ax 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 high-domed 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 shock 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 skin surface.
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 that 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 the pressing circumstance. And a better way opened up. “We can distract it with caterpillar segments!” he cried. “Any that 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.
The tongue slapped toward it. The whale felt the weight, and was orienting on the morsel; it didn’t care that it was part of the caterpillar-accomplice. Arlo’s attempted passage across that surface would have been perilous indeed!
He went to the next separate segment and pitched it off. And the third; none were any good for his purpose. Then he came to the unified tail assembly.
Now he had a problem. He couldn’t get by it, and it was too massive to lever into the pool entire. Also, there were several very nice segments in it—rock chippers with heads and forelegs that should be serviceable. He wanted to save these.
Meanwhile, the whole unit continued to move, cornering Vex. In a moment the stab-tail would be in range of her.
Arlo jumped down. With three mors
els between him and the tongue, he should be safe—for a while.
His feet shot out from under. The potwhale’s skin was spongy and slippery, offering no firm footing despite its bulk, and it undulated under his weight. But there was not enough water to swim in. Arlo thrashed about, making no forward progress.
“Another way!” Arlo echoed. He lifted the ax with difficulty, about to chop it into the slick black flesh beneath, carving a foothold. But again he paused: surely the pain would attract the potwhale’s immediate attention, and the erupting blood would make the foothold less secure than ever! What else offered?
He reached up and grabbed the foot of the nearest caterpillar segment. Now he had purchase. He clamped the ax between his knees and hauled himself from the leg to the next, hand over hand. He had found another way!
When he got to the terrible tail, projecting half the length of a man, he paused yet again. He had no leverage to chop at it! But at any moment it would shoot out, for Vex was now within its range. The last thing he wanted was to see her impaled.
He saw the tail shortening. That meant it was about to spring. Arlo grabbed the end foot with his left hand and swung the ax with his right. The blow was weak, the armor of the tail hard; the blade bounced off, almost cutting his own left arm. He could not stop it that way.
The rod shot out, its diameter decreasing as its length increased. Arlo hung on, bracing both feet against the wall and pulling. He succeeded: the tail was angled out over the water, missing its mark.
Only there was now no target. Vex had jumped off the ledge, “Let go!” she cried.
Arlo looked at his hands and realized what was happening. The tail was geared to spear through the prey, then to incorporate the new entity into the scheme of the caterpillar by injecting some kind of pacifying chemical. Its surface was now slick with go and Arlo’s hands were numb. “I can’t!” he cried.
Vex grabbed him and got her body under his arms. She shoved off hard from the wall, carrying him with her. She was amazingly strong—but of course that was a property of the minionette, to be able to take sadistic punishment. His hands tore free, and he saw how the surface of the tail had opened little pores in its elongated state. No doubt that fluid was much more effective when set into a massive wound, such as the puncture of a complete entity. His skin and callus protected him somewhat, but not enough. The effect was spreading.
Arlo fell and could not move. The caterpillar poison had entered his system, paralyzing him. He could see, hear and feel—but that was all.
“Oh, no!” Vex cried.
She set him down face-up on the blubbery back of the potwhale and splashed his hands in the water. But there was little water here, and it was already too late for washing to have much effect. She gave it up and handed herself along the caterpillar segment in the fashion Arlo had. “Aton!” she screamed.
And Arlo realized how convenient it would be for her simply to leave him and take up with his father. She didn’t have to do anything; she had tried to save him and had failed. What more could be asked? If he died, he could not return to aid Chthon’s campaign, so her mission would be complete in that sense. Soon she would generate her own son from the loins of her father to carry on the tradition...
The tongue had brought in the third segment morsel. Now it was casting for Arlo. Still he could not move. Vex had reached the other end of that tail assembly and Aton was helping her back up to the ledge. He knew this as much with his mind as with his eye; perhaps he was picking up images from the eyes of the other people. Vex had taken up the ax Arlo had dropped; fortunately it had not slipped down between the potwhale and the rock and on to the bottom of the pool. The two of them walked away.
Walked away...
Arlo fought, but the caterpillar venom held him immobile. Millions of years of evolution had gone into the perfection of this serum, and it was adequate to its task—even for the alien life form Arlo was. Only on order from the caterpillar brain could he move—and then only his feet, synchronized with the caterpillar metronome. And there were no signals because there was no connection. How had Bedside fought off this drug, to become a man—albeit a mad one—again? The tongue slapped across one of his legs, curled about it, tugged. Arlo slid across the blubber toward the potwhale’s mouth.
Another way...?
The ten-segment—it had been marching and functioning, though it had no caterpillar brain! Bedside’s brain had also been able to control a small unit. So portions of a caterpillar could function. If the lead segment handled it correctly...
I am a caterpillar, Arlo though. I am marching home... And his legs began to move. He was a single-segment caterpillar.
I am running home!
Faster, as his legs caught the beat his mind provided. They were not responsive directly to his brain any more than his penis was, but like it they were influenced by vision his mind conjured. The brain was smart, the legs stupid; they could be fooled.
The potwhale’s tongue clasped his leg tightly, hauling him up the rise surrounding the mouth regardless of his running motions. He smelled the rank intestinal gas that steamed up from that orifice, heard the grindings deep inside.
My feet are impeded; they must fight to maintain the cadence...
His feet kicked wildly. His free foot smacked into the tongue, battering it against the captive foot. Again, harder.
And the tongue, hurt, slackened. The foot slid out of the loop. Arlo rolled down the incline, away from the mouth, feet still working. He turned over, his face rubbing across the black surface, and turned again, helplessly. And saw the forepart of the caterpillar.
Aton and Vex were astride it, one near the head, the other near the severed end. “One...two...three...heave!” Aton called, and they both shoved hard against the wall, just as the outer row of legs was coming down. Off-balanced, the caterpillar teetered.
“Heave!” And slowly the entire length of it toppled off the ledge, into the pool. The massed legs churned up a froth.
The splash was loud. The entire potwhale tilted with the added weight. Huge as the creature was, Arlo realized that it had to be shallow,. Flat like a leaf instead of round like a stone. Not nearly as massive as it appeared. A surprised honk emerged from the mouth. Then the orifice closed and the tongue sucked in.
Water poured over the rim. The monster was submerging!
Arlo, unable to swim because of the venom, knew he had exchanged one form of death for another. Instead of being eaten, he would drown. Even Chthon could not save him now—and Chthon did not have reason to.
Then strong hands gripped his arms. Aton and Vex swam for the rim, hauling him between them.
They had saved him.
• • •
The venom of the caterpillar was powerful. Arlo fought his way to consciousness, oppressed by suffocating heat—but still he was unable to move voluntarily. Not even his feet, now. Or his eyes.
But he could feel, and he could hear. Someone was stroking his brow. It was the gentle, cool touch of his mother, Coquina: cool because of her malady the chill. He was in her hot cave, and she was taking care of him, as she had when he had been a child. He was relieved; he felt safe here, and it was good to have her attention, and to have her know that she was needed. She had given up everything for the sake of his father Aton—and now she was losing Aton himself.
Footsteps approached, halting at the entrance, where Arlo knew a curtain of woven cave-vines contained the heat necessary for Coquina’s survival. “Come in, Vex,” Coquina said.
Arlo’s mind reacted, though his body could not. What was the minionette doing here? In the nature of things, the two women should be enemies!
There was the rustle of vines being parted, a slight stir of warm air, and Vex stepped in.
“Put on some clothing,” Coquina said, a bit sharply.
After another rustling pause while Vex donned one of Coquina’s dresses—tight fit, Arlo was sure!—she spoke. “I brought fruit from Arlo’s garden. Is he better yet?”
“Not yet. But thank you very much for the fruit.” Coquina was being very polite, very formal. “I know the trip to the garden is dangerous for you, alone.”
“Aton went with me.” Arlo felt his mother’s hand on his forehead freeze, almost literally: it seemed to become deathly cold. Small wonder!
Then Coquina stood. “There is no need to tell me this.”
“Please—I must tell you. I—here.” Evidently Vex was holding out something. Arlo struggled to regain that ambience of perception he had had, to see things through their eyes. What was the object?
There was a brief silence. Then: “He—gave you the hvee?”
Arlo knew exactly what his mother was a feeling: he felt the same. If Aton had given Vex the hvee, all was over for Coquina— and for Arlo.
“He— sent it,” Vex said quietly. “As—a gift for you. Please take it.”
What? The hvee would not be transferred like this!
Coquina accepted it. “It does not wilt. How is this possible?”
“Aton loves you,” Vex said. “We did nothing in the gardens. He picked this flower; it oriented on him. See, it does not match my blue one from Arlo. You love him—”
“But how could you carry it?”
“How can anyone carry the hvee? I love him, too’.
Wrong, Arlo thought. The hvee loved its master, and loved the one who loved its master, but could not be transferred between common lovers. It was strictly series, not parallel. For when more than one woman loved a given man, there was rivalry, and that destroyed love and the hvee. So something was wrong here. The hvee should be wilting—and wasn’t.
Coquina moved away from Arlo and went to Vex. Oh, no! Arlo thought. They can’t fight...not my mother and my sister, my two closest loves!
“Aton has shown me something I did not know,” Coquina said gently. “Come, child—sit by me. I shall not hold you long.” And her voice was oddly soft.
“I am confused,” Vex said. “There is strange and terrible emotion here, and I don’t know whether it emanates from you or Arlo, or from both.”
“My son is conscious? Coquina asked.