Battle of the Beetles

by M. G. Leonard

  ‘I’m afraid entomology is an often overlooked science. Very few universities teach it any more, other than as a part of zoology or biology.’ Professor Appleyard shrugged. ‘The entomology community is small, but it is passionate. Historically it’s always depended on the passion of enthusiastic amateurs, just like you.’

  ‘But, Professor,’ Darkus grabbed his sleeve, ‘I thought there’d be thousands of entomologists here.’

  ‘What did you think? That you’d be leading an army of people with butterfly nets and pooters into the Amazon?’ Professor Appleyard chuckled – then, looking down at Darkus, he stopped laughing. ‘Oh, I see, you did.’ He frowned. ‘I’m sorry.’

  Darkus’s heart sank as he looked around the room. ‘This is not enough people,’ he said, thinking of all the beetle infestations being reported on an hourly basis. He felt sick. He’d been worried that what they were trying to do was difficult, but right now it felt impossible. He peered at the scientists – there were women in bug T-shirts knitting, some friendly-looking bald men, a couple of young men with very long hair, and an old man with the longest grey beard Darkus had ever seen. He took in thick glasses, tweed jackets, asymmetrical haircuts and butterfly scarves. Men and women, young and old, who all seemed nice, polite – and as about as useful in a fight as a lace glove. This was not the eager army of gung-ho entomologists he’d hoped to lead to the Amazon to battle Lucretia Cutter’s beetle army.

  ‘She’s already won, Baxter.’

  The beetle on his shoulder reared up and shook his head.

  ‘Baxter’s right. There’s only one of her,’ Virginia stepped up beside Darkus. ‘We don’t need an army of scientists to defeat Lucretia Cutter, but we may need an army of entomologists to combat the destruction caused by her beetles.’

  ‘Have faith,’ Bertolt said. ‘They’ll all want to help, you’ll see.’

  ‘It’s show time,’ Professor Appleyard whispered. He walked to the lecture podium in the centre of the stage and tapped the microphone to make sure it was on as the polite applause died down.

  ‘Hello, can you hear me out there?’ There was a low polite murmur. ‘I’m here, as many of you will know, to talk about the multiple Coleoptera infestations that have been recorded over the last few weeks, since Lucretia Cutter’s declaration at the Film Awards in Los Angeles. The destruction these insects are wreaking is bordering on catastrophic for human food supplies and agricultural economies. Today we, the entomologists of the world, must decide what we will do about it.’

  ‘Don’t you mean, if these wild claims are to be believed!’ a gruff voice called out from the auditorium. ‘Since when did the world of science blindly believe the preposterous statements of a fashion designer?’ He laughed.

  ‘I heard that she’s just a front, that this is Dr Cuttle’s work.’

  Darkus peeped round the curtain, trying to see who had made the comment, but all he saw was a sea of faces, nodding.

  ‘I quite agree. First we must establish the truth of these claims, and prove the unique nature of these beetles Lucretia Cutter claims to have sent out into the world to attack our harvests.’ Professor Appleyard removed his spectacles, polishing them with a corner of his shirt and replacing them on his face. ‘But, to those of you who doubt Lucretia Cutter’s capabilities, I must ask you to see through the veneer of the Lucretia Cutter brand and cast your minds back to a truly brilliant scientist you will have known by the name of Dr Lucy Johnstone. She was a central part of the work we attempted on the Fabre Project, and I am certain many of you will remember her and have read her scientific papers.’ There was a murmur of surprise. ‘If you look past the dress and the morphology of the creature calling herself Lucretia Cutter, you will see that she is in fact Dr Lucy Johnstone.’

  This statement caused outbreaks of heated chatter, and Professor Appleyard stood still, allowing the conversations to calm down. When he was certain he had everyone’s attention again, he continued: ‘Those of you who know about Dr Lucy Johnstone’s ground-breaking work with Dr Bartholomew Cuttle, will also know that the claims she is making, while admittedly far-fetched, are not impossible. And so I must proceed to the second matter: the question of whether it is possible that she has engineered a genetically modified army of coleopterans to attack and weaken the structure of human society. Well, to answer this question I must invite some friends on to the stage. Please will you welcome Darkus Cuttle – Bartholomew Cuttle’s son – Virginia Wallace and Bertolt Roberts.’

  Darkus looked at Virginia and Bertolt, and then all three of them walked on to the stage. Once out of the safety of the wings, Darkus felt very small, and the murmuring from the audience grew.

  ‘Are you getting children to carry out your experiments now, Professor?’ the gruff voice called out again, and Darkus saw that the man was sitting in the third row. He had a military demeanour, with his hair slicked neatly back, and he was wearing a green coat with shoulder lapels. A ripple of laughter travelled round the room.

  ‘I think you’ll find Darwin was but a child when he developed an affinity with Coleoptera,’ Professor Appleyard replied. ‘It would be ignorant to dismiss wisdom because it comes from a young mind.’

  ‘Let the kids speak,’ boomed an American voice. Darkus turned and spotted a big man with a bushy beard and shoulder-length hair, wearing an Entomological Society of America T-shirt. The man gave him a thumbs-up.

  Darkus stepped forward. ‘I am here, with my friends, to prove that the genetically modified beetles do exist, to clear my father’s name, and to ask for your help.’

  Bertolt knelt down at the front of the stage and bowed his head. Newton zoomed out of his hair, his abdomen flashing, and twenty-seven fireflies followed his cue, leaping from the tiny hidden pockets in Bertolt’s blazer. They rose up around Newton, who was the largest and shone the brightest. Newton became the north star, and the fireflies all found their place and hovered, their lights painting a picture of the night sky’s major star constellations.

  Professor Appleyard cued the dimming of the theatre lights. The audience of entomologists sighed with awe at the vision, pointing out the Plough and Orion in wonder.

  Virginia stepped forward, and without speaking a word, did a handstand. Marvin dropped off her hair bobble on to the stage. The jewel beetles and giraffe-necked weevils in her trouser pockets flew, dropped and marched down on to the stage beside the shiny red frog-legged leaf beetle. An overhead camera was switched on, and a picture of the lengthening line of beetles was broadcast on to a screen at the back of the stage. Virginia began a game of mirrors, executing a measured silent dance of postures and poses that the beetles copied, sometimes in pairs, to replicate her moves.

  ‘What is this?’ the military man called out. ‘Party tricks?’

  Darkus glared at the heckler. He lifted Baxter from his shoulder, holding him up in the air for a moment, so the entomologists could see the Chalcosoma caucasus, then he threw the beetle high up into the air. Baxter lifted his elytra and unfolded his flying wings, vibrating, so that he hovered above Darkus’s head, facing the entomologists. Darkus mimicked the sounds of stridulation with saliva on his back teeth and a chorus line of Scarabaeidae flew out of the deep pockets in his trousers and the compartments in his belt. The beetles came together in formation, in front of Darkus, flying in patterns, creating the model of a rotating double helix with Baxter crowning the top.

  This was what they’d rehearsed, back at home, but now they were here performing it, Darkus felt foolish. He was angry that there were so few entomologists, angry with his dad for sending him here, angry that at a desperate time like this he was on a stage performing party tricks. The military man had a wry, unconvinced look on his face, as if what he was seeing was no more than a circus act, and Darkus felt a hot rage flare up inside him.

  He tilted his head back and made a high-pitched jagged noise, and suddenly the beetles forming the double helix exploded apart and zoomed back together to form a phalanx, rising up and diving towards
the audience, with Baxter at their head. The fireflies broke their map of the stars and danced about above the audience’s heads, flashing and flickering alarmingly. Virginia’s troupe of acrobats scurried to the edge of the stage, their elytra raised and ready.

  ‘That’s enough now, Darkus,’ Professor Appleyard said sternly. ‘Call them back.’

  Darkus raised his hand, palm flat, and called out: ‘Beetles to me!’

  All the airborne beetles zoomed up in a loop, still in formation, and flew back to Darkus’s hand, landing and scrambling down his arm and into their personal pockets. The last beetle to land was Baxter, who settled on Darkus’s shoulder.

  Virginia and Bertolt made sure that their beetles had safely returned, and came to stand beside Darkus.

  ‘That was a little off script,’ Bertolt whispered.

  ‘That was awesome!’ Virginia hissed.

  ‘So, as you can see,’ – Professor Appleyard had to raise his voice to be heard over the alarmed conversations taking place in the auditorium – ‘it is no fiction that genetically modified beetles exist – and Lucretia Cutter controls an army of them.’

  ‘But why?’ someone called out. ‘What does she want?’

  ‘Well, that remains to be seen,’ Professor Appleyard replied, ‘but it looks as though she’s asking all the governments of the world to place her in a position of sovereignty at their head. She wants to rule the world.’

  There was a stunned silence.

  Professor Appleyard continued: ‘And she plans to use human food supplies as a way of achieving that. She is laying siege to the world.’

  ‘But how can we fight this?’

  ‘How do we stop her?’

  ‘How do we know his father isn’t the mastermind behind this attack?’ The military man was pointing at Darkus. His heart sank as he saw the panic on people’s faces. He’d come to Prague looking for answers, for allies, for an army, but as he looked around the room he saw nothing but confused and suspicious grown-ups, who were having trouble believing what they’d just seen. If Lucretia Cutter was going to be stopped and Dad saved, he realized, he and the beetles would have to do it on their own.

  He turned and marched off the stage.

  ‘Darkus!’ Virginia called after him. ‘Where are you going? Come back!’

  Darkus kept walking.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The Thingamabob

  ‘You should have stayed,’ Bertolt said, coming into the dressing room and seeing Darkus slumped on the sofa.

  ‘No.’ Darkus shook his head. ‘We shouldn’t have to put on a show to persuade them what we are saying is true.’ Baxter was sitting in his cupped palms. He brought the rhinoceros beetle close to his face. ‘Don’t they have eyes? Can’t they see what’s happening? Lucretia Cutter will have the whole world in the palm of her hand before they’ve made up their mind whether or not to do anything about it.’ Baxter lifted up his front leg and petted Darkus’s nose. ‘Oh, I’m all right, Baxter. Don’t you worry about me.’ He smiled and the rhinoceros beetle opened his mouth, smiling back.

  ‘Darkus,’ Virginia said, sitting down on a chair opposite, ‘we totally agree, but Dr Yuki Ishikawa came up on to the stage after you stormed off. He was in the audience the whole time.’

  ‘Dr Ishikawa’s here? I didn’t see him.’ Darkus sat up. They’d met Dr Yuki Ishikawa in Greenland. He’d refused to come with them to the Film Awards, but his wisdom had helped Darkus save Baxter from the cold weather, and given him the idea that helped them win the battle in the Hollywood Theater.

  ‘They treat him like some kind of Jedi,’ Bertolt nodded, coming to sit beside Darkus.

  ‘Yeah, he was brilliant.’ Virginia’s brown eyes shone. ‘He’s taken samples of Lucretia Cutter’s beetles, from the ones we collected in our pooters at the Film Awards and from the genetically modified wheat weevils she released in Texas. He shared some of his observations with the other entomologists.’

  ‘The first thing he discovered is that the beetles she’s breeding have short life spans,’ Bertolt said.

  ‘The adults die after just one or two days,’ Virginia added.

  ‘And they appear to be mostly male,’ Bertolt said.

  ‘So he’s come up with two ideas to tackle the infestations,’ Virginia said. ‘The first is to distract the male beetles with the pheromones of female beetles.’

  ‘The entomologists are going to set up pheromone traps, to lure the beetles away from the crops,’ Bertolt explained. ‘And then they are going to use the Sterile Insect Technique where they only release sterile males so that if any beetles mate there won’t be any babies!’

  ‘The entomologists were all a-buzz with ideas of how to tackle the infestations,’ Virginia said, ‘suggesting natural predators, like you used at the Film Awards, and other ways to protect untouched crops.’

  ‘So, we do nothing,’ Darkus snapped. ‘Set up pheromone traps and clear up the mess. Sounds like a great plan.’

  ‘I thought you’d be pleased,’ Bertolt said, crestfallen.

  ‘Dealing with the infestations isn’t going help get Dad back, is it? Or clear his name?’ Darkus scowled at Virginia. ‘Being here is a waste of time. I thought there’d be loads of brave entomologists, who’d want to come with us to the Amazon and take on Lucretia Cutter. Dad said they’d help us, but half of them think he’s guilty.’

  Virginia put her hands on her hips. ‘Your dad never said they’d fight Lucretia Cutter. He didn’t actually say what they’d help us with, did he?’

  ‘Darkus, entomology is a science,’ Bertolt said softly. ‘It’s not a sport. It’s hardly a surprise that they’re not weapon-wielding bodybuilders, is it?’

  ‘Yeah, well, we don’t need their help anyway.’ Darkus stuck out his chin. ‘It’s always been us and the beetles against the world.’

  ‘We’re on the world’s side, idiot,’ Virginia tried to tease him into smiling, ‘it’s Lucretia Cutter who isn’t.’

  ‘Ahem.’ The three of them looked round to see Uncle Max leaning against the wall, listening to their conversation. ‘I do hope you’re including me in that “us”, Darkus?’

  There was a knock at the dressing-room door.

  ‘Hello there.’ The giant American man with the bushy beard opened the door and poked his head in. He had rosy cheeks, friendly blue eyes, and beetle tattoos down his arms: a stag on one and an Atlas beetle on the other. ‘I’m looking for Darkus Cuttle.’ He stepped into the room. ‘May I shake you by the hand, sir?’

  Darkus stood up, awkwardly, and shook the man’s hand.

  ‘I’m Hank, from the Entomological Society of America.’ He pointed at his T-shirt. ‘We sure are grateful for all that you’re doing to help protect our harvests. Dr Ishikawa said he would never have come to ICE if you hadn’t flown to Greenland to alert him of Dr Johnstone’s experiments.’

  Darkus felt his cheeks getting hot. Virginia folded her arms and beamed out an I told you so look at him.

  ‘Thank you, Mr, err . . .’

  ‘Burton, but you can call me Hank.’ He pointed at an empty chair. ‘May I?’

  ‘Please do,’ Bertolt said, as they all nodded. ‘What can we help you with, Mr Burton – I mean, Hank, sir?’

  ‘Actually, I may have something that will help you.’ He unzipped his black leather bum-bag. ‘I can’t work out for the life of me what this thingamabob does.’ He handed over a square black screen the size of a matchbox. ‘When you turn it on, a white hexagon lights up with six triangles inside, but nothing happens when you press them.’

  ‘Why do you think this will help me?’ Darkus turned it on and looked at the device, puzzled.

  ‘Because it was found outside the Hollywood Theater, in a pile of clothes near the stage door.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’ Darkus looked at Hank.

  ‘It seems that someone threw all of Lucretia Cutter’s luggage out of her chopper before it took off. Everything was brought to us, at the ESA, in case it could help us combat
the attack on the wheat harvest. Most of it was clothes and useless stuff, but we did find that thingamabob.’

  Bertolt sprang forward, taking it out of Darkus’s hands, studying it intensely.

  ‘Thank you,’ Darkus said.

  ‘No, thank you.’ Hank dipped his head. ‘I wish there was more I could do to help you. Professor Appleyard told me what you children did to prevent Lucretia Cutter’s attack. It was mighty courageous.’

  Darkus looked at Bertolt. ‘Do you know what it is?’

  ‘It looks like a fancy TV remote control.’

  ‘Can we take it with us?’ Darkus asked.

  ‘Of course. It’s yours. Only wish there was more I could do.’ Hank drummed his palms on the arms of the chair. ‘I hear you’re going giant beetle hunting? I would sure love to come with you guys. I’m handy with a shotgun. Have you any idea where to find Lucretia Cutter?’ He tipped his head. ‘Whole world’s looking for her, sure know a bunch of folks who’d kill to find out where she’s holed up.’

  Darkus glanced at Uncle Max. ‘I’m sorry.’ He shook his head.

  ‘Well, if you need me, for anything at all, you can contact me here.’ He held out a piece of paper. ‘I have to go back to Washington and advise the White House on the best way to deal with these attacks. Dr Ishikawa’s findings will be a great help. If we can lure some of the wheat weevils into honey traps, we may be able to save some of our harvest. Right now, the best we can hope for is damage control. This attack has hurt our economy real bad.’

  Darkus took the paper and as Hank Burton got up to leave, a familiar face appeared in the doorway. ‘Dr Ishikawa.’ He bowed his head. ‘It’s good to see you.’

  Bertolt and Virginia followed his lead as the smiling scientist entered the room.

  ‘It is wonderful to see you again, Darkus Cuttle.’ The skin around Dr Yuki Ishikawa’s eyes concertinaed as he smiled. ‘I wanted to give you my best wishes for your journey, and bring you these.’ He took three tiny bamboo cages from a cloth bag. They were similar to the one about his own neck containing a beautiful pink preying mantis. ‘They are for your beetles. There are many predators in the Amazon, and we know how dangerous a predator can be, don’t we?’ He laughed, his eyes twinkling. ‘Your actions at the Film Awards were inspired, young man. I could not have done better myself.’