Chapter Two

It was the midday of Malmrep, the third of Willow-wanes five seasons and the time of High Summer. The weather was rich with moisture and the air rippled with heat.

Ryo checked the readout on the console. Two assistants accompanied him on the scouting expedition into the jungle. They were to survey the feasibility of planting two thousand bexamin vines.

He’d argued long and patiently with the Innmot local council who had intended to plant the newly drained and cleared land in ji bushes. Ryo insisted that it was time to diversify local operations further and that bexamin vine, which produced small hard berries of deep ocher hue, was the most suitable candidate for planting.

The berry fruit was useless, but the single seed that lay at the center of each, when crushed and mixed with water and a protein additive, produced a wonderfully sweet syrup that was nearly as nutritious as it was tasty. But the fifteenmeter-long vines required more attention that the most delicate ji bush. Nevertheless, the council voted three to two in favor of his suggestion.

Ryo was quite conscious of how much was riding on the success of this planting. While failure would not shatter his solid reputation within the Company, a good bexamin crop would considerably enhance it. Whether a grand triumph was a good idea he wasn’t sure, but he didn’t seem to be progressing in any other directions. So he thought he might as well rise within the Company structure.

“Bor, Aen,” he said to his two assistants, both of whom were older than he, “break out the transit sighters. We’re going to lay a line down that way.” With right foothand and truhand he gestured to his left, to the northeast.

They acknowledged the order by unpacking the instruments and fixing them to the proper mounts on the side of the crawler. Ryo made sure the stingers were unstrapped and ready for use in case they should meet with an errilis.

But nothing sprang from the tangled vegetation to challenge them as they powered up the instruments. Minutes passed and Bor was removing a reflective marker from its case when an explosion threw him violently to the crawler deck. The concussion bent the thinner trees eastward. Vines and creepers were torn free of their branches. Only his grip on the steering pylon enabled Ryo to maintain his footing.

During the silence that followed, the three of them lay stunned, not knowing what to make of the violence. Then a frantic cacophony of screeks and wails, moans and weeping rose from the startled inhabitants of the jungle as they recovered from their own shock.

A trio of splay-footed inwicep birds ran past the crawler, their meter-wide webbed feet barely tickling the swamp water, their necks held parallel to the surface and their thin blue tails stretched out behind them for balance.

“Ovipositors acute!” muttered Bor. “What was that?” As if to punctuate the query there was another roar, less cataclysmic but still strong enough to rattle the treetops.

Both assistants looked to Ryo for an explanation, but he could only stare south, the way they’d come, and perform instinctive gestures of befuddlement. “I’ve no idea. It almost sounds as if the generator nexus went up.”

“A collision at the transport terminal perhaps,” suggested Aen.

“Not possible.” Bor made a gesture of assurance. He was the eldest of the trio. “Only a monitor breakdown for the northern sector of the continent would allow such a disaster. Even if that came to pass I can’t visualize any collision of modules producing such an explosion.”

“That would depend on what they were carrying,” said Ryo, “but I agree with you. A more likely source of such energy would be the Reducer complex south of town where they distill fuel alcohols.”

Aen concurred. “We’d best hurry back and see what we can do to help. There may be fire in the burrows.”

“I have clanmates who work at the Reducer.” Bor was no less concerned than his friends.

“And I,” added Aen.

Ryo gunned the engine of the crawler. Broad exterior treads spun in opposite directions. The vehicle turned on its axis and Ryo sent it rumbling back down the path they’d crunched through the raw jungle. Ooze and water sprayed from the speeding machine’s flanks as Bor and Aen hurriedly restowed the survey equipment.

A fresh shock awaited them as they reached the edge of the jungle and were about to touch the farthest of the plantation access roads. Two large shuttlecraft of peculiar multiwinged design were resting there. In landing they’d made a ruin of several neatly tended fields of weoneon and asfi.

The local airport was south of Paszex, a fact that Ryo could not reconcile with the presence in his familiar fields of the two strange ships. It was the older Bor who roughly took the controls from him and hurriedly backed the crawler into the cover of the jungle.

The action ended Ryes immobility, if not his confusion. “I don’t understand. Is it some kind of emergency? Is that why they didn’t set down at the port and … ?”

Bor interrupted him, pragmatism assuming sway over politeness.

“Those are not Thranx, or anything else friendly. They are AAnn shuttlecraft. Don’t you recall them from Learning Time? There has to be an AAnn warship somewhere in orbit around Willow-wane.”

Bor’s words brought the segment of study back to Ryo in a rush.

Powerful, antagonistic, and crafty were the words that best described the endoskeletal space-going AAnn. Their star systems lay farther out along the galactic plane than the Thranx worlds. Though war had never been declared between the two races, occasional “mistakes” were made by individual AAnn commanders who “overstepped their orders.” Or so the AAnn apologies always insisted.

Since the Central government on Hivehom was always practical about such matters, the errors never led to full scale combat. Such isolated incidents were irritating but rarely outrageous. The Grand Council therefore chose to protest such incidents through diplomatic channels.

This policy was not much comfort to the three outraged individuals driving the crawler, an unusual state of affairs among a people normally respectful of authority.

The trio could not sympathize with diplomats, since all they could see were two invading craft that had destroyed laboriously groomed fields, and the plumes of dark black smoke that rose like mutilated ghosts above Paszex.

“We must do something.” Ryo stared helplessly through the trees. Across the fields drifted the hiss of discharging energy weapons mixed with the lighter crackle of Thranx stingers and an occasional nasty cur-rrrupmph! from explosive shells.

“What can we do?” Bor’s tone was one of calm acceptance. “We do not have-” His voice rose at the thought and his eyes gleamed like diamonds. “We do have weapons.”

Ryo’s hands pulled the largest stinger rifle from its holster. He needed all four to handle it. “Bor, you drive the crawler. Aen, you navigate and keep watch for the AAnn.”

“Pardon,” Aen objected, “but in accordance with our respective positions it would be my place to drive, Bor’s to shoot, and yours to navigate.”

“Rank is hereby superseded by circumstance.” Ryo was checking the charge on the rifle. It was full. “I order you to disregard position.”

“If you wish me to ignore position then you cannot give me an order to do so,” she argued smoothly. Bor settled the argument by plunging the crawler through the trees onto the field of cab-high asfi. They were soon submerged in ripe yellow pods just starting to droop from their green-and black-striped stalks.

Noise and gunfire continued to issue from the direction of the town. That was natural. Also promising, Ryo thought. Having touched down unopposed in an unprotected colonial region, the invaders quite likely would anticipate little in the way of armed resistance. Certainly nothing as absurd as a counterattack.

Ryo ordered Bor to aim the crawler for the parked shuttles. Ryo wished simultaneously for an energy rifle. That would be much more effective against machinery, the stingers having been designed for use against living beings.

They approached quite near to the shuttles and still no one appeared to challenge them. The shuttlecraft were the first true space-going vehicles Ryo had ever seen. Paszex and Jupiq and even Zirenba did not rate a spaceport. Only facilities for less powerful suborbital craft.

At Aen’s suggestion, Bor swung the crawler sharply left and off the main cultivation path. Now they were smashing crudely through the dense rows of asfi stalks. Fruit and stalks flew in all directions.

Such casual destruction was normally worthy of severe condemnation, but under, the circumstances Ryo didn’t worry about possible social consequences. And then, suddenly and unexpectedly, a single creature was standing just ahead and to the right of the rapidly advancing crawler.

The AAnn was relieving himself and the abrupt appearance of the crawler was a shock. He stumbled over his short pants and growled unintelligibly.

The blunt, heavy jaws were filled with sharp teeth. A pair of black, single-lensed eyes peered from high on the two sides of the head. A single tail curved from behind. The large, clawed feet wore devices that resembled steel spats. Its short pants were matched by a shirt of dull color and a helmet forested with electronic sensors.

A thick cord connected a bulky hand weapon to a power pack slung around the AAnn’s waist. The muzzle swung around to point at the onrushing crawler.

Civilized thoughts were subsumed by fury and Ryo never hesitated. Had he been the average worker, he would have died, but in the swamps Ryo had acquired reflexes that most hive dwellers lacked.

There was a sharp crack from the stinger and a tiny bolt of electricity jumped from its tip to strike the AAnn squarely in the chest. The AAnn convulsed, jumped a meter clear of the ground, and fell back twitching. He was motionless by the time the crawler rumbled past. Now the enormity of what Ryo had just done finally struck. He’d deliberately slain another sentient creature. For an instant Ryo was a little shaky.

They could hear anguished, high-pitched whistles from the direction of Paszex. Primitive instincts overwhelmed the last of thousands of years of civilization. The hive was being attacked. Ryo was a soldier defending the burrow entrances. All that mattered now was defense.

By now they were quite close to the nearer of the two shuttlecraft and Ryo was hunting for a section of the ship that might prove vulnerable to his weapon. If he’d had an energy rifle he would have begun by shooting at the multiple landing gear or at the transparent crescent that marked the command cabin above the nose. But these were warcraft. There were no exposed antennae or exterior engines.

Several armed AAnn stood beneath the nearest wing. They glanced up in surprise as the crawler rumbled into view. Ryo shot one of them before the others could move. The group suddenly broke and ran frantically for the ramp that led from the ground to the belly of the shuttle.

Ryo caught another AAnn with a second bolt halfway up the ramp, watching coldly as the creature jerked and twisted downward. Several energy beams reached from the other retreating soldiers toward the crawler but, fired wildly and in haste, they missed the agile machine as Bor sent it winding in unpredictable directions.

Now they were crossing under the stern of the first shuttle and careening toward the second. Ryo sent several shots crackling toward the twin exhaust jets and then the rocket openings between, hoping to disable some vital component. He had no way of knowing if the bursts were effective.

By this. time panic was giving way to reaction among those on board the craft. Suddenly a powerful wash of energy radiated from the bow of the second ship. It carbonized the ground ahead and to the left of the charging crawler.

“Turn, turn!” shouted Aen. Bor responded with soft clicking noises indicating acknowledgment and mild annoyance.

The crawler raced for the concealment of some tettoq trees. A second energy blast seared the earth where the crawler had been heading moments earlier.

Other rushing, mechanical sounds reached them. Looking back over the stern of the crawler as they disappeared into the shelter of the tettoq boles, Ryo could make out moving figures hurrying toward the shuttles. Some were on single-tracked machines that carried soldiers in pairs. Others ran on foot. All were pouring out of the town.

The fire from the second shuttle was joined by a flare from the first. Beams from both swept the tettoq orchard in search of fleeing enemy. One struck near enough to explode the crawler’s rear tread. But by that time the overworked vehicle was limping into the far thicker cover offered by the jungle.

Almost reluctantly, a final, fiery burst cut down two massive lugulic trees, which fell with a ripping crash just to the left of the damaged crawler, carrying down vines and lesser trees with them. Then a rich, rising whine filled the air.

“Can you see what they’re doing?” Bor asked, maintaining as complex an evasive course as he could manage with the damaged tread. Ryo and Aen tried to stare through the trees.

“The ramps have been taken in,” Ryo said excitedly. “Judging from the noise, I’d say they’re preparing to leave.”

“Surely not because of our little diversion?”

“Who knows?” Pride filled Aen’s voice. “They were certainly-surprised. Perhaps they think several dozen of us, mounting deadlier weaponry, are preparing to attack them.”

“Such speculation is unbecoming,” Ryo murmured.

“The circumstances support it,” she replied.

“Then again,” Bor put in, “it may be that their flight has several possible causes.”

“Meaning what?” wondered Ryo.

Bor brought the crawler to a halt and joined them in gazing through the wall of trees. “Either they have accomplished whatever evil they planned for our poor hive or else,” and he pointed skyward with a truhand, “one of the warships that occasionally but regularly visits our system had received word of this attack and has drawn near.”

The whine of the lifting jets achieved a respectable thunder and the three Thranx watched as the warcraft taxied through more of the fresh asfi, picked up speed, and gradually rose into the eastern sky. Of defensive aircraft from distant Ciccikalk there was still no sign.

As to whether a Thranx warship had actually arrived on the orbital scene and prompted the retreat, they would have to wait to find out. The echo of the jets faded. There was nothing to hint that anything out of the ordinary had happened, nothing save the columns of black smoke, the crushed vegetation in the fields, and the faint, awful smell of something burning.

Paszex had not been completely destroyed. One of the natural advantages of living underground is that all but the uppermost levels of a community are relatively impregnable to all but the heaviest weapons. From their primitive beginnings the Thranx had always lived beneath the surface of the earth.

Still, substantial and heartrending damage had been done. Besides the casual destruction of carefully tended orchards and fields, the hive’s module transport station was twisted, running metal. Many of the air intakes and ventilation stacks had been burned away like so much dry straw. No real military purpose could have been served by such destruction; it seemed to have been done more for amusement than tactical advantage.

The hive’s communication center and satellite terminal had also been destroyed, but not before the operators had succeeded in transmitting a message to Zirenba. From there it was instantly relayed to Ciccikalk, whence help had been summoned.

Many were dead and every clan had new ancestors to honor. But there were no recriminations, no days of wailing and weeping. Because the water lines were untouched the Servitor staff could efficiently extinguish all but the most persistent fires. Because the Servitors. were also responsible for such diverse functions as keeping the peace and cleaning up the garbage, restoration and repair were well coordinated from the beginning.

Families tallied their losses, clanmothers compiled rosters of the dead, while the job of putting Paszex back together again proceeded smoothly. Since the AAnn had been too busy or too contemptuous to destroy the synchronous orbit communications satellites above Willow-wane, reestablishing contact with the rest of the planet was simply a matter of placing portable communication discs above the town.

Ryo cared little for such details as he’d raced through the smoke-filled corridors in search of Fal.

She’d been working in the Nursery. If he’d known that, he wouldn’t have worried so much about her. But he couldn’t be sure she was at work when the AAnn attacked. She could have been anywhere in the hive. It was a considerable relief to learn that she was safe and unhurt.

When the first explosions had sounded, followed immediately by the alarms, she’d assisted in the transfer of the larvae to the special Nursery chambers below the hive’s fifth and bottom level. There she and the other attendants waited out the battle in comparative safety.

The emergency lower Nursery had its own sealed air supply as well as weapons, and could have held out for three seasons without revealing itself to long-term invaders. Such security for the young was a holdover from the Thranx’s primitive past. Even after attaining intelligence and civilization, the Thranx had never forgotten that the most basic ingredient for the survival of a people is the protection of the young.

Eventually the town learned that the timely arrival of a Thranx warship had, indeed, forced the hasty AAnn retreat. That did not prevent Ryo, Bor, and Aen from being accorded the status due local heroes.

They had been responsible for the deaths of at least three of the bandits-the local council would not dignify the AAnn by calling them invaders-and one of the two AAnn shuttles had been destroyed by the Thranx warship before rendezvous with its mother ship. The Thranx captain-had ascribed the fatal shot to an improperly supervised gunnery officer, subsequently “reprimanded.” So there was something of a trade-off, incidentwise. Nevertheless, a few were convinced that the success was due to Ryo’s stinging rifle. But there was now no way to prove this, so Ryo and his companions naturally refused to accept credit for it.

That did not keep the hive council from voting them commendations and thanks. There was even talk of some kind of presentation at the capital. That never materialized, but weeks later Ryo learned that he had been nominated for a single crimson star by the grateful colonial government, and that the award had been approved by the appropriate bureau on Hivehom, in Daret. The star was to be set in his chiton just behind his left shoulder.

Some military and civilian heroes of great accomplishment could boast twenty and thirty such stars, acquired through long and meritorious service. A few even carried the coveted yellow sunburst. But thousands of respected achievers had never received a single such honor. The award was quite a coup for Ryo’s clan, though he cared little for it. Anyone would have done as he bad, presented with the same options. Nonetheless, it was argued, it was he who had done it.

As the weeks passed, supplies were air-ferried from Zirenba, and Jupiq and Paszex’s other sister towns contributed what they could. Medical and food supplies were the first to arrive in quantity, followed by technicians, building materials, and sophisticated replacement components from Ciccikalk.

The damaged fields were soon readied for replanting. New ventilation and exhaust stacks were quickly set and sealed in place.

The greatest damage was to the module transport terminal. Ryo went there one day to see how repairs were progressing. It was important to the Company because most of Inmot’s local unprocessed produce was shipped via module to Zirenba.

The guide tracks on which the magnetic repulsion modules cruised were still being poured and cast. The thick gray-white plastic would solidify quickly into a nearly unbreakable, flexible line. New coils were being sealed into position. Under the critical gaze of a large crew of local and imported technicians the station was being rebuilt in the most modern style and much expensive sunglass crystal was used as shielding.

The new station would be larger and more efficient as well as more attractive than its predecessor, though the citizens of Paszex would gladly have traded it for the old one and a retraction of the cause of its destruction. Ryo wondered if the lavish new terminal was the government’s subtle apology to the scarred inhabitants.

A big celebration was held when the-first modules arrived over the new track from Jupiq, but Ryo missed the event, being deep in the jungle at the time. He watched it via screen later that night, saw the dozen oblong passenger modules link up outside Jupiq to form a single silvery segmented train, then split up outside Paszex to arrive in stately individual procession.

At least the system was operational again. Goods and individuals could once more travel freely between Paszex and the rest of Willow-wane. Only decorative detail remained to be added to the terminal. More government money. More apologies.

A formal clan evening meal was served that night. The clan hall was utilized and the meal set two timeparts later than normal to allow everyone time to dress properly. Fine jewelry and inlays were brought out for the occasion. There were neck pouches and body vests of orange and silver mesh, pink threadwork so fine that it seemed no hand or machine could manage the weave. Females and males alike sported inlays of cerulean and carnelian, obsidian and chalcedony, faceted gems, fine ceramic and enamel in curlicues, triangles, and bars. Most gleamed from excavations made between mandibles and eyes, though more official inserts shone on a few shoulders and necks.

After the meal Ryo’s crimson star was awarded in a formal ceremony. The-four-pointed insignia was presented by a minor government functionary who’d traveled from Zirenba for the occasion.

The official presented the small transparent case to the venerable Ilvenzuteck, Ryo’s clanmother, who handed it proudly to the inlayer. The craftswoman set to work with blades and chisels, painlessly excavating a gap from the chiton of Ryo’s left shoulder while the rest of the clan looked on approvingly.

Permaglue was brushed on the base of the star, which was then carefully set in place, the metal fitting flush with Ryo’s exoskeleton. The inlayer, an old Thranx, took satisfaction from a perfect fit on the first attempt. No glue oozed from the edges of the incision. She’d done this many times before, though mostly with cheap ceramics and rarely before an audience. She applied a little saliva to shine the star, inlayer tradition.

The decoration would remain a permanent part now of Ryo’s body, for all to see and admire. If he ever did any traveling, it would be amusing when strangers asked him in what campaign, during what exploration he’d achieved the award. He would have to confess that he’d earned it for acceding to the impulse to prevent belligerent aliens’ from knocking down tettoq trees and asfi bushes.

A loud whistling arose from the assembled clanate, from elders, adults, and adolescents alike. The whistle of approval rose shrilly and then snapped off, neatly concluded. Ryo acknowledged it while Fal beamed proudly at him from her seat nearby.

She looks particularly beautiful tonight, he thought, with the simple yellow stripes in her forehead and the three pink dots topping each. She wore matching neck and body attire of violet iridescent material. Violet and silver thread had been applied with temporary glue around her bthorax and spicules. Silver wires formed double helixes around both arching ovipositors, an agonizingly long task at which her brother and friends had helped.

For a moment Ryo thought to boldly announce their intention to mate, but of course he could not do that without consulting her first, though he knew she would agree instantly. It was just as well, he thought. Lovely as she was, he still wasn’t certain he was ready for that.

So he stood, accepting the accolades of his clan, the four-pointed crimson star shining on his shoulder. As he thought of the lady who loved him and the certain promotion to the Inmot local council, he was quiet, contemplative.

No one in the assembled crowd of friends and relatives could have guessed that the thought uppermost in Ryozenzuzex’s mind was this: he did not hate but, instead, greatly envied the AAnn of the shuttles …