Gastropedes always wait until they have exited the nest before defecating. Gastropedes often use their feces, a substance with the consistency of tar, in the construction of the walls of their domes and corrals.
—The Red Book,
(Release 22.19A)
Chapter 71
Dial M for McCarthy
"A telephone is dike a rash. It demands attention."
-SOLOMON SHORT
My phone beeped.
Without thinking, I fumbled around for it. Surprise. It was still on my belt. I unclipped it and lifted it up to my face, thumbing it on curiously. "Hello?"
"Jim!" It was Lizard. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," I said. And wondered why I'd said that. I wasn't fine. I couldn't move. I could barely speak.
"Are you sure? You sound funny-"
"Oh, I'm right here. I think."
"Where's here? Where are you?"
"Um, I'm-" I turned my head. "-at the bottom of the tree. Where are you? I'll come and get you."
"Stay where you are. Don't move."
"Okay," I whispered. "No problem." My voice started to fade away. "I'll just rest awhile."
"Good. You stay there-leave your phone on. Keep talking. Will you do that?"
"Uh-huh. Where are you?"
"I'm still in the ship. The lounge got all twisted sideways and crushed. I'm in a corridor. I think I can-yes, I can climb up to the top. It's quite a crawl, but I can make it." Her voice was very controlled. "Do you hurt anywhere?"
"I don't-think so."
"Can you move?"
"I answered my phone, didn't I?"
"Jim?"
"Yes?"
"Listen to me, I'm going to put you on hold for a minute, so I can put a tracer on you. Don't go away, okay?"
"Okay."Promise?"
"I promise: Can you hurry?"
"What's the matter?"
"Nothing. It's just-I think I do hurt a little."
"Where?"
"Everywhere. It hurts to breathe, I think. It hurts to swallow. Can you bring me some water?"
"Hold on. I love you-" There was a click and she was gone. She was gone for the longest time, and I lay on the shimmering jungle floor and listened to the sounds of things crunching in the distance and dropping through the treetops and thudding softly in the muck. Some of the things were screaming, and somewhere off in the dark emerald gloom someone was calling for help.
"Anyone? Is anyone there?"
"I'm over here," I said. But I didn't have the air to say it very loudly. "Over here."
-sudden bright-insect buzzing in my face, a whisper of brightness that I can't brush away, a distant chorus, a soft wall of voices, can't make out the words, only the meaning, Jimbo, stay awake, we're coming, and then a sensation of being lifted up into the arms of something strong and comfortable, secure and golden-pink, angelic, masculine, a smell of sweat and glory and pine, distant voices muttering incomprehensible status reports of blood-sugar levels and pain thresholds and damping levels, a mess, something about a kneecap-
"Over here! There's someone over here!" The light was in my eyes. A flashlight. I opened my eyes, blinked, and blinked again. It was nighttime. There were lights everywhere. Above it all, the pink shroud of the airship still fluttered and glowed. The great ceiling flickered with golden light.
"It's McCarthy-Jesus Christ!"
"No. Just call me Jim."
"Is he alive?"
"I think so. Yeah. Dead men don't look this bad. Captain McCarthy? Can you hear me? It's Siegel-He's alive! Get a stretcher down here!"
Somehow, I croaked out some words. "Where's… Lizard?"
"Who?"
"General… Tirelli-"
"Sorry, I don't know. They haven't found her yet."
"She's on the phone-" I waved my communicator at Siegel. He took it and frowned. "Sorry. It's dead, Jim."
"It can't be! I was just talking to her. She put me on hold."
"Jim, what time is it?"
"What are you talking about. It's what? Afternoon. We just came down on the treetops and-"
"Jim, it's almost midnight. You've been unconscious. You're all right. Help is coming. Just stay calm."
"But Lizard sent you, didn't she?"
"Nobody's seen her, Jim. Or heard from her."
"But she's still on the ship. In a corridor off the briefing lounge. All twisted sideways. Climbing toward the top. She called me on the phone." It was hard to say it all, but it was important to get it all out.
Siegel hesitated. "Did you get that?" he called to someone. "Check the briefing lounge."
"The lounge was crushed-" I didn't recognize the voice. Someone from the crew?
"Check the corridors," Siegel ordered. "Now!"
"Siegel?"
"Yes, Captain?"
"I'm not… a captain anymore. I'm an… Indian scout. What are you doing here? I saw you get crushed."
"Not quite, sir. Hold on, I've got a stretcher coming. The loading bay is a mess, but the team survived. You trained us better than you thought. We're dropping a rope now. Dr. Meier's got a medical bay rigged. We're going back up into the trees."
"She doesn't have enough duct tape for this-we'll never get the ship airborne again."
"Don't worry. We're okay. Lopez has a comlink working. We've got full network communications. They know where we are. Choppers are on the way. We'll all be out of here by tomorrow night. Can you feel anything when I do this?"
"No.
"How about this?"
"No."
"How about-?"
"Yowp! Yes, goddammit! Don't do that." After the worst of the pain subsided, I asked, "I can't move to see clearly. What was that?"
"Your leg. Your knee, actually. Just lie still, I've got a med-team coming." He held my hand. He shifted his grip upward so he could lay one finger across my wrist. To check my pulse.
"Status report?"
"We crashed."
"Got any more details than that?"
"We're about twenty, maybe twenty-five klicks northeast of the mandala. We've got fifty people accounted for. We're searching for the rest. People are still checking in. Most of the ship is in pretty bad shape, she broke her keel in three places, but a large part of the main deck is actually okay. A little precariously balanced, but the engineers are looking to secure things and see if they can level it off a bit. We've rigged a med-bay, we're working on a kitchen. We've got P-rations and bottled water, so we're okay for tonight. Actually, we're okay for a month, if we have to dig in, but I wouldn't worry about that. There's a rescue mission launching from Panama. In the meantime, we're going to try to keep everybody in the treetops. We don't know how long it'll take the worms to get to us, but we know they've got to be following the trail of debris we dropped. We're putting out probes and prowlers. And we're laying down mines. Two of the spybirds are busted up; as soon as we find the others, we'll launch them. We may have to wait until morning. Hold on, the medic's here-"
I heard a rustling. I managed to turn my head. Somebody in a blood-spattered jumpsuit. He looked familiar. I couldn't see clearly.
He pushed something gently away from my eyes. He studied me impersonally, then began spraying my face with something wet and misty. It smelled of antiseptic and peppermint. A moment later, he was daubing gently at my eyes and my forehead and then my mouth and nose. "Boy, do you look like hell." A quick last wipe with the cotton. "Hiya, sir." He grinned quickly at me. "Is that better?"
"Hi, Shaun. Love your bedside manner." My voice cracked. "Can I have some water?"
"Only a sip." He held a straw to my mouth. He pinched it off quickly. He wasn't kidding about a sip. I barely got enough water to wet my throat, not enough to swallow.
He ignored my protest and began unfolding a stretcher; his movements were quick and professional; he knew what he was doing. From somewhere, he produced a shears and began cutting open my jacket and shirt and began pasting monitors to my skin; one on the wrist, three on the chest, tw
o on the forehead, two on my temples. As soon as they had all beeped green, he began wrapping me in a silvery blanket. I started feeling immediately warmer.
I felt him reaching around under my head; he was locking a neck brace into position.
"Is that necessary?" I asked.
"Just a precaution, in case we drop you."
"Do you drop many?"
"Hardly any. You'd be the second. Today, anyway." He finished with the neck brace and began gently feeling my collarbone, my arms, and finally my legs.
"Watch the knee," said Siegel.
"I see it," Shaun replied.
"No fair copping a feel," I said.
"Hey! You do your job, I'll do mine."
"That's what I'm afraid of."
"All right," said Shaun to Siegel. "You ready to try getting him on the stretcher? I'm going to turn him on his side toward you, you hold him up, I'll slide the board under, then we put the whole thing together around him, got it?"
Siegel nodded. "I know the drill. Let's do it."
"Can we stop for pizza on the way up?"
"Shut up," said Shaun; he used a tone of voice that allowed no reply. "Okay? One, two-lift!"
"Oww! Goddammit! Fuck, fuck, fuck! Son of a bitch! Shit! Piss! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"
"Hold him steady. Okay, got it. Let him down easy now. All right, let's fasten some straps." He patted me gently on the chest. "See, that didn't hurt me a bit." He was already locking the rest of the stretcher into place. A moment more and he and Siegel were lifting me up off the jungle floor.
"That way," said Siegel. "There's kind of a path-"
"No," I interrupted. "It's a worm-track. Stay off it."
"-that we need to avoid," he finished, ignoring me completely. "Shut up, sir," he added.
"Right," said Shaun. He listened to his earpiece for a moment. "They're lowering a sling."
"Hang on, Jimbo. You're almost home."
"We're a long way from home-what did you call me?"
"I didn't call you anything, except maybe a pain in the ass."
"You wish. Forget it. I'm a married man."
Shaun allowed himself a broad sigh. "Why is it all the good ones are either married or straight?" For a while, neither one of them said anything as they struggled through the uneven terrain of the jungle muck.
Finally, they came to a place where the sky above was clearly pink and bright. I could see the yellow light of an open bay far above, and it made me think of another time and another airship. Only that time, it hadn't been my ass in the sling.
Shaun and Siegel finished attaching the cables, and then Shaun gave a thumbs-up signal, and they lifted me back up into what was left of the Hieronymus Bosch.
The trip up was a lot slower than the trip down. And much less eventful.
Millipedes also assist in the process of dirt removal; whether a feeling of fullness or some other biological mechanism drives the millipede to the surface is unknown; what is known is that the millipede will also exit the nest to defecate. This may be a survival mechanism, as the gastropedes within a nest will catch and eat any large, slow millipedes they find wandering around the tunnels.
There is also a thick black boa-like creature that preys on jellypig congestions. Its exact function in the nest remains unknown.
—The Red Book,
(Release 22.19A)
Chapter 72
"Nobody got out."
"Pain would be much more effective if we got the message before the event instead of after."
-SOLOMON SHORT
Lizard wasn't there waiting for me.
They rushed me sideways down a tilted corridor into a makeshift medical section. The beds were hung from overhead beams, and Dr. Meier had one arm bandaged. She took one look at me and said, "Oh, shit-"
"Where's Lizard?" I demanded feebly. "Where's General Tirelli?"
She ignored me. She was already cutting away my pants. "Goddammit, look at that knee. Shut up, Jim. Let me think." Something pricked my arm. One of her assistants was starting an IV. Another was bringing up my readout on a screen. "He's very shocky," she said. "And he's suffering from exposure. I'm amazed he's conscious."
Dr. Meier turned and studied it. "Did they find the portable scanner yet?"
"Yes and no. It's busted."
"Shit." Meier turned back to me. "This is going to hurt, Jim. Wait—" She shoved a rag into my mouth. "Bite that."
She was right. It hurt. A lot.
When I regained consciousness, she was wiping my face with a damp cloth. "Sorry," she said. "I had to find out how bad the damage was. Do you want some water?"
I croaked an assent and she slid a straw between my dry, cracked lips. The water was warm and sterile and tasteless; it was the best drink I'd ever had in my life.
"Slowly," she cautioned. It dribbled down my chin anyway. As she lifted it away, she added, "The good news is you're going to keep your leg."
She watched me carefully while I considered the import of her words. I must have still been in shock-or maybe they were sedating me. It didn't mean anything. "What's the bad?" I asked.
"I'm going to try to save the kneecap. We've already injected a local anesthetic. That'll ease the pain a bit. I wish I could operate immediately, but it's tricky, and I'm waiting to see if they can level this ship, so I can have a real operating room. And, if the choppers can get here fast enough, I'll wait until we can get you back to Panama, although I'd be a lot happier if we could go straight through to Miami."
"Will I walk?"
"Your basketball days are over, but I don't think you're going to need a cane. At least, I hope not."
"What about the rest of me?"
"You're pretty badly banged up, but nothing permanent. I think your collarbone might have cracked again-the same place as last time, but I'm not sure. You've got a couple broken ribs, but you didn't puncture a lung, you lucked out there. You've got scratches in places where most people don't even have places, but as near as I can tell, we caught you on the first bounce, or you found some softer than usual jungle."
I looked around. "Where's Lizard?"
Dr. Meier's face went grim. "Um-"
"What?" I demanded.
"Jim, the briefing lounge was crushed. Nobody got out."
"Lizard did. She talked to me. She called me on the phone. She put me on hold. She wasn't in the briefing lounge. She was climbing up a corridor. That's the last I heard from her. Goddammit! Doesn't anybody listen? Let me up from here-I'll go look for her myself."
"You're not going anywhere-"
"If nobody else is-" I started trying to lever myself up. Dr. Meier pushed me down with one hand. It barely took any effort at all.
"You try that again," she said, "and I'll nail you to this bed. You stay here. I'll tell them. I'll find someone. But stop worrying. If she's still alive, we'll find her. I promise."
I grabbed her arm. "She's the only thing I've got in the world-"
"Jim, let go. You're hurting me. I promise-" She pried my fingers loose from her arm.
"Let me talk to Siegel! Please-"
"He's out checking the defenses."
"When is he coming back?"
"I don't know. He doesn't have a lot of time for this, Jim."
"I've gotta talk to him."
She sighed. "I'll leave a note for him."
By Terran standards, the reproductive strategy of the jellypig is simply bizarre; by Chtorran standards-who knows? We have no yardstick for comparison. While it is possible that the behavior of the jellypig may give us some clue as to how other species in the Chtorran ecology reproduce (in particular, the breeding habits of the gastropede, which still remain a mystery), it is more likely that the bizarre behavior of the jellypig is only a sideshow, with the real astonishments yet to be discovered.
The jellypig is a hermaphroditic creature, performing both male and female roles simultaneously and automatically, apparently without consciousness or volition. The action of rubbing up against other jellypigs in the
congestion stimulates the creature to continually produce sperms.
The sperms of the jellypig are parasitic amoeboids; they are steadily released in small spurts of lubricating oil, the same oil that every member of the congestion is enveloped in and continually contributing to. As a result, the congestion is always swimming in its own reproductive juices. Sperms will readily enter the bodies of any receptive jellypigs. A jellypig is always receptive, except when releasing sperms; this slows down, but does not entirely prevent the process of self-fertilization.
The body of the jellypig contains many tumoroidal germ cell clusters, which continually produce eggs. Conception occurs within the body of the parent any time an amceboid sperm meets an egg. A healthy jellypig is likely to have many embryos of all sizes growing within its flesh. In addition, the embryos are also likely to have been impregnated and will probably be carrying embryos of their own. In other words, jellypigs are not only born pregnant; they are frequently born already grandmothers and great-grandmothers.
Jellypigs do not have oviducts or birth canals. The embryos feed on the flesh of the parent, eventually eating their way right out of the mother's body. If the jellypig is large enough, and if the exit damage heals faster than new wounds are created, a jellypig is likely to survive the births of its own offspring. Otherwise, it becomes food not only for its own children; but for the rest of the congestion as well.
While it may be personally unlucky for the individual jellypig to be too fertile, it seems to be a valuable survival trait for the jellypig congestion.
—The Red Book,
(Release 22.19A)
Chapter 73
Hallucinations
"The only thing in the world that can't be shared is loneliness."
-SOLOMON SHORT
It was a long night. I passed in and out of consciousness. Sometime around two in the ayem, the body of the airship began creaking and groaning alarmingly, and then it started lurching downward again. When it stopped, the savage tilt of the floor was even more pronounced. Fortunately, most of the patients were in hammocks or hanging beds, and except for a few minor bumps, the worst we got was a good scare. But Dr. Meier took one look at the angle of her medical bay and announced, "The hell with this. This isn't safe."
A Season for Slaughter watc-4 Page 59
