Jason
shook his head. He had written about the shock scent that sent all the danae
for a kilometer around flying high when one of their kind had been wounded. He
had thought that they emitted a smell the others detected, though he’d been
hard-pressed to know how the smell traveled so quickly. Since he’d met Arria,
he was certain it was not shock scent, but psi shock that caused them to take
wing.
“Both
wings are gone,” Marmion said. “The burns aren’t so bad, but . . .
I can go back and get a laser from the zephyr and finish the job.”
Jason
shook his head. He didn’t believe Tonto could live; he was far more gravely
wounded than the danae Arria had saved by hiding and feeding it. But he could not
put down Tonto as if he were a mere animal.
“Sir,
the other one’s little heart is still beating . . . or was. The
main heart’s destroyed, but . . . really, sir, it could still be
in pain. I can do it if you cannot.”
Jason
looked at Blue-eyes. There were no longer any eyes to see, but Jason touched
the charred flesh below where they were. Sure enough, he felt the little heart.
Lower down, the big heart was silent. He sighed and reached for his medic kit.
“I’m
going to try to seal them up,” Jason said to Marmion. The perfectionist seemed
aghast. “The stuff is made for humans. You could do more damage than good. And
the organs inside . . . he wasn’t very careful when he took the
galls.”
“I
don’t expect them to live long,” Jason said. “Just long enough. While I’m doing
this, I want you to find some nymphs. Two of them. Bring them here unharmed.”
“Sir?”
Jason
looked at the perfectionist, who was looking down as if at a mad man. “Yeah, I
know how it sounds. Look, I haven’t been entirely honest with you, Marmion. It
seemed safer not to tell everything I’ve learned about them, for their own
protection.”
“And
perhaps to tell a few lies?” Marmion said, “like keeping your weapon in plain
sight so that you could shoot faster when in reality the danae would see the
gun and flee?”
Jason
wondered how many good shots Marmion had failed to take because he’d followed
Jason’s instructions. Obviously enough for him to figure out the truth. “Marmion,
I have some evidence that the danae are sentient. Not hard proof yet, not enough
to get bans for the planet, but enough to convince me. I’ll explain it all to
you later if you’re interested, but for now, just trust me. Go get those
nymphs. And before you go, give me the adhesive from your medic kit. This isn’t
enough.”
Marmion
shook his head, frowning, but he reached into the pocket on his stellerator and
brought out another tube of sterile adhesive and gave it to Jason. “How do I
catch a nymph?”
“With
a net,” Jason said. “Get help if you need it, but bring me two healthy nymphs.”
With
Marmion gone, Jason set about tending the two danae. Neither had stirred,
though Tonto’s breathing was evident. Any massive bleeding had stopped, but
Jason had decided he could do nothing inside the two danae. He didn’t know
enough of what a normal danae abdomen looked like inside to be certain that any
cleaning or trimming of what appeared to be damaged tissue wouldn’t turn out to
be a vital organ. He just dumped adhesive along the edge of the wounds and
brought the ends together. That much worked; the flaps of flesh became tacky
and stuck where they touched. He put burn powder on the char, which jellied as
it would on a human’s wound, but he knew it would do little in the long run.
The powder was nothing more than a temporary measure used until the victim
could be transported to a clinic machine. These same machines that could revive
a human burn victim would do nothing for danae. Even if Jason were willing to
risk trying them, neither he nor anyone else on Mutare knew how to override the
clinic machine’s programming, which addressed only human physiology. When he’d
done what he could, he picked up Old Blue-eyes and carried him deeper into the
Amber Forest to the hidden kiosk the old danae called home. He noticed that
some of the danae had returned. They were wary of him, but peering curiously
from upper branches. He put Blue-eyes on the floor of the kiosk. Like all the
inhabited tents of amber, this one had perches that were easy for a danae to
hop but difficult for a human to step around. He left Blue-eyes and went back
for Tonto and found The Builder standing over the younger danae.
The
Builder stared, accusingly, Jason thought, and wouldn’t move aside. “I’m trying
to help,” Jason said, trying to push past the danae. It was not very strong,
but if it chose to oppose him, Jason knew that the speed with which the wings
moved could burn and even cut his skin. The danae unfurled and Jason put his
hands up to protect his eyes, but continued to push The Builder aside. When the
way was clear, he picked up Tonto; a shred of flesh hung down from the bend of
the wing. Jason gathered it into his fingers, wondered if the danae was
conscious enough to feel the pain. Probably not, he decided, at least, there’d
been no signs that he could recognize. Blue-eyes had certainly been beyond
caring, and Tonto had made no voluntary movement, not even now when Jason was
carrying him.
Again
The Builder barred his way, but this time Jason just turned and stepped through
the back of the unfinished kiosk. He took Tonto to the same place he’d taken
Blue-eyes and lay him gently next to his companion. Jason checked the hearts
again; three out of four still beat. The Builder hopped onto a perch, watched
Jason carefully. But there was nothing more to do but wait for Marmion to
return with the nymphs. Jason sat down and leaned against the kiosk wall.
Through the translucent amber walls he could see that the sun had moved
steadily west. He hoped Marmion would not be much longer. Perhaps he should
have gone himself, for he knew he’d have some in hand by now. The nymphs were
not difficult to spot, though they were surprisingly swift when alarmed.
Suddenly
Tonto rolled and got one of his legs underneath him. Jason got up to restrain
him, talking soothingly even though he knew the danae could not hear. The
Builder, sitting quietly on his perch until then, leaped into action. The danae
perched with a grasshopper leg on each of Jason’s shoulders, short forearms
holding balance with fistfuls of hair. The membranous wings wrapped around
Jason’s arms and torso, nearly pinning him. He struggled, not wanting to hurt
The Builder in any way, but determined to get loose so that he could help
Tonto. But each time he got one hand free of the wings, they shifted and cupped
around him again. He couldn’t get loose. He stayed still, hoping the danae
would let him go if he did not move, but the wings stayed on him, clasping him
with surprising strength. Tonto was struggling out of the kiosk, hopping
pathetically like a drunken bird, stumbling over the perch and flopping through
the doorway. Jason winced and the wings around him tightened.
The
Builder did not loosen her grip for what seemed like an hour to Jason, and he
was sure she would have kept him there longer, but Marmion finally came
crashing through.
“What
the . . . ?” The perfectionist reached for a weapon that he did
not carry, then seemed ready to dive for The Builder and Jason. But just as
suddenly as she had struck, The Builder released Jason, and with a powerful
leap from his shoulders she shot through one of the body-sized holes in the
kiosk, which Jason had always thought provided ventilation. Marmion stared at
Jason, confused and alarmed.
“I
don’t know what came over her,” Jason said. “She let me carry him all the way
over here, then I guess she decided I was going to hurt him or something. Damn,
those wings are strong.” He rubbed his arms, was surprised to discover how numb
they felt.
“The
other danae is well up the tree where we can’t follow,” Marmion said, “at
least, not without destroying the ladders and dwellings between here and there.”
“Damn,”
Jason said, shaking his head. “Well, we’ll see what we can do about him later.
First we’ll take care of Blue-eyes.”
“Yes,
sir. How, sir?”
“You
take a healthy nymph and a dying danae and put them together. If we’re lucky
and Old Blue-eyes is still alive enough to sing his death song, next spring we
get a new Old Blue-eyes.”
“You
mean like the cocooning they do with the animals? I thought that was a food
supply during the cocooning stage, that the nymphs fed off the host animal.”
“I
think that’s still true,” Jason said, “but that they also take on some aspects
of whatever they cocoon with. When it’s a danae they feed off, it’s more than
some animal cunning they get. The whole intelligence may be consumed by the
nymph or passed on by the danae. I don’t know which is correct. But it works . . .
I think.”
Marmion
shrugged, but then started looking around the kiosk. “We can fasten pieces of
the net over the openings, that ought to keep the little bugger in here.” He
looked at Jason. “I’d like to see if this works. They’re strange enough as it
is, but if they can perpetuate themselves in this fashion, they’d really be
unique in the known universe, wouldn’t they?”
Jason
nodded, pleased that Marmion was intrigued enough to help, even though he must
know that Jason’s plan was a desperate one. Or maybe, Jason thought
uncharitably, the perfectionist was humoring the ranger-governor. Whatever the
reason, Jason was glad of his help. He’d get done faster and then figure out a
way to help Tonto back into the kiosk.
Outside,
congregated around the netted nymphs, were half a dozen danae. They took wing
like startled gamebirds when Jason appeared, and when he saw they had loosed
the nymphs he dived for the two wiggling creatures. Sharp claws from six little
legs dug into his skin. One nymph squeezed past his fingers, got loose and
scampered for the nearest tree, which happened to be an amber-covered one. For
a second Jason thought Marmion would catch the escaped nymph, for the amber was
slick and gave little purchase. But it managed to get far enough to get to the
first rung of the perch-ladder, and it leaped with amazing agility to the next
and the next, finally disappearing into live tree branches.
“Hold
that one,” Marmion said, finally realizing that pursuit was useless. “I’ll get
the nets ready.”
The
nymph was almost as long as Jason’s torso, loose fleshed so that it was
difficult to hold firmly, and it continued to scratch as it writhed. He had to
keep one hand on the back of its head, for though the teeth were mostly molars
for chewing greens, it did have a few sharp teeth and a strong jaw. It was, he
realized, about the same size as a danae’s body, but it was heavier. When
Marmion had sealed off the kiosk’s openings with the nets, he signaled Jason,
who threw the nymph inside.
For
a few minutes, the nymph raced around the kiosk, maddened and frightened, and
then discovering it could not get out and was not in immediate danger, it
stopped. It walked slowly on its short legs, carelessly stepping on the wounded
danae that still lay motionless where Jason had placed it.
“Doesn’t
seem interested,” Marmion said.
“We’ll
give it some time,” Jason said. “And meanwhile, I’m going to go up and see if I
can find Tonto.”
“You’ll
bring all the amber down,” Marmion said, disapprovingly. “You’re too heavy.”
“There’s
a young tree over there, not much amber on the trunk and no kiosks above or
below. I’ll climb up there and see if I can spot him.”
Unhardened
sap was sticky, and even this young, almost bare tree had a lot of it. Jason’s
hands were coated before he’d gotten halfway up, but he continued climbing.
When the branches became too small to hold him he stopped. Fifteen meters away
the older and stronger trees glittered with amber, huge hollow globs. He could
see shadowy danae, inside and out, silhouetted by the last of the sunlight.
There were hundreds of them. He settled as comfortably and firmly as he could
and tried to see each and every one, looking for one that did not leap lightly.
The sun winked out behind him. He took out his pocket torch as the last of the
crepuscular light faded. The artificial light startled the danae, causing them
to turn and stare. But finally he found one that did not move. Or was it only a
thick branch in that kiosk, covered with amber? No wing rolls, but he couldn’t
be sure. He did catch a glimpse of a nymph cowering at the tip of a conifer
branch.
When
he climbed down, Marmion was sitting at the door of the kiosk, staring through
the net.
“Nothing,”
he said to Jason. “It curled up in that corner over there about ten minutes ago
and hasn’t moved since. I think it’s sleeping.”
Jason
peered in. What Marmion said was true. He couldn’t tell if Blue-eyes was still
breathing; it was so shallow before, and now in the poor light he could detect
nothing.
“Let’s
give it some time, sir,” Marmion said. “I picked up some food and beverage when
I went back for the nets. We could eat, then take another look at the
situation, decide what to do.”
Jason
hesitated, then shook his head. “Couldn’t eat,” he said.
Marmion
nodded, but reached into the pocket of his stellerator and pulled out a flask. “Drink,
then. You must be thirstier than I was.”
Jason
took the flask gratefully, opened it and drank deeply.
The
beverage was tart, made from a fruit or berry he didn’t recognize. He was glad
that it wasn’t too sweet, for the smell of esters was strong on him, no doubt
embedded in his clothes from handling the wounded danae.
The
drink should have refreshed him, but it did not. He drank more and sat down
before the kiosk. He suddenly felt tired, the dispiriting events overcoming
him. He glanced through the translucent amber, saw the nymph still crouched in
the corner, and shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said sadly. “Blue-eyes is
more dead than alive, so I just don’t know if it will work. Maybe Tonto . . .”
He looked back up into the trees. His head reeled.