Secret of Spring Page 14

  Cling Ling took a sudden interest in the conversation. “Are you saying you possess the body of an adult when a child, and vice versa?” he asked.

  “As you put it, yes. It is quite a bit more complicated than that, however. I am now in the advanced period. I reached puberty yesterday. I am on my way home to my parents to experience birth, so you can see it is imperative that I return at once.”

  “Ah,” Cling Ling said. He had much to ponder.

  “Do you mean you were a teenager yesterday and now you are a child? Isn’t your life span exceedingly short?” Herb asked tactlessly.

  “Quite long enough,” snapped the boy indignantly. “I have completed a lifetime of achievement in this cycle. In previous ones I have been a warrior, a politician, and wealthy businessman. I expect to experience many more cycles if I do not miss my birthday.”

  “Why, that’s instant reincarnation,” Spring said in amazement. “But what about your families? Do any of them still live? Doesn’t it cause confusion?”

  “That is a personal question, but I will answer it in the interest of coexistence. The birth party returns in differing bodies from his former cycles. Such members would not recognize him. There is an emotional death as well. No attachment remains. It would be an impossible situation to cope with were that not so.”

  “Yes, I see that it would be. Still, it seems sad,” Spring said, thinking of her father. “There is pain in losing a loved one, but so many precious memories as well.” Memories were all that sustained her at times, Spring thought. She would never want to forget her father.

  “Our society is so interwoven that any missing piece could cause untold chaos. It is almost time for my birth and I must be there. If not, events leading to that birth would be altered, causing unknown repercussions. Perhaps even the end of civilization.”

  He considered himself pretty important, Herb thought. “Surely,” he said, “there have been other times, accidents, unforeseen circumstances that prevented births.”

  The diplomat glared at him. “Never. We live our lives reversed so what happens had already occurred. We know how it is to be. We have—” he paused, groping for the right word.

  “Hindsight?” suggested Spring.

  “Just so. Ordinarily, I would never have left my planet during such a critical period of the cycle, but I am a diplomat and the mission was essential. It was all proceeding on schedule until the pilot timewarped and went into—”

  He was interrupted by the arrival of the helmeted guard. “The Commander will speak with you now, Spies. Choose your spokesman.”

  “We aren’t an army. We aren’t spying. We aren’t even ants,” protested Herb.

  “Never mind. I will handle this,” said the diplomat, toddling across the floor. He seemed to have grown a bit younger during their confinement.

  The guard looked down dubiously at the small figure, then shrugged. The ways of aliens were unfathomable. He gestured for the child to precede him, but the diplomat held up his little arms and asked to be carried. As it was the most expedient means of transport, the guard complied, hurrying away with the little child in his first set of arms.

  “It’s all grown wild,” moaned Herb. “Lily is freezing to death and we are trapped in some alien ant farm.”

  Spring put her hand on his shoulder to comfort him. He always felt more than comfort when she touched him, but he appreciated the gesture. He placed his hand over hers and would have left it there, but she stiffened and removed hers. Herb could not fail to note the reaction. Of course she had only meant to give him sympathy; he was a fool to think she felt anything more.

  For that matter, what did he feel about her? He didn’t even want to think about it, since he had no right. What must she think of him now? He was a pledged man and she respected that kind of commitment. Lily was the hapless victim of his long-distance flirting. He had deceived both women, and they were being remarkably decent about it. The least he could do was behave himself. He touched the place on his shoulder that she had touched. It was still warm.

  “I recall this planet from Vision Plays,” Cling Ling said. “It is not that far from our destination. If we could return to the ship now—”

  “What good would that do?” Herb asked despondently. “We can’t fly it. The pilot is dead.”

  “I wonder,” said Cling Ling, stroking his stiff leaves like whiskers.

  The other two gave him looks of surprise.

  “But we saw him. He fell down lifeless,” Spring said.

  “If you recall the words of our young diplomat just before he was interrupted, he mentioned that the Txnghc timewarped. I think he did it to allow all of us to reach our destinations on time. In doing so, he unavoidably moved the diplomat’s cycle ahead, but he still should have sufficient time to make the birth.”

  “He moved ahead? But shouldn’t he have gone back instead?” asked Herb.

  “I expect he would have, once he had gotten closer to the planet. That way, he could skip this part of the flight by moving ahead of it; that is, it would have already taken place. Then before landing, he could move back and arrive before the birth. At least, that is my theory,” explained Cling Ling.

  “I see. I think,” Herb said.

  “Then what went wrong?” Spring asked.

  “I believe for some reason, the pilot did not take his own problem into account. Thus, this unexpected detour.”

  Herb frowned. “What problem?”

  “The pilot had a transformation of his own pending. Probably he had no way of knowing it would be that soon, for like us, he does not live backward and cannot read the future.”

  “So he changed, too. He’s not dead, just in metamorphosis, like a caterpillar,” Spring said excitedly.

  “If my suspicion is correct, yes. Theoretically, we could remain here for a year, yet go back in time and still arrive to connect with the landing of the Freezer,” Cling Ling said.

  “Do you think that’s possible?” Herb asked doubtfully. “What about in between? Wouldn’t other events cancel out our attempt?”

  “It depends on the events, but we should be able to override. Naturally, the sooner we get on our way, the better,” he agreed.

  “Then we do have a chance,” breathed Herb. “We have to go. Attack them. Escape.” He started for the door.

  “Herb, slow down,” Spring said restraining him. “There’s a whole army out there. I haven’t wanted to mention this, but you may have noticed that they are insects and they could, well, hurt you badly,” she finished lamely.

  “Eat us, you mean,” retorted Herb. He certainly had noticed, and had no desire to be masticated to death by some overgrown ant.

  “Not just you and Cling,” Spring said. “Some insects like ants are scavengers. They wouldn’t turn up their noses at a little protein either.” She pinched her arm.

  “She’s right, Herb,” Cling Ling said. “Besides, we can’t leave without the diplomat. And who knows? Perhaps they will listen to him. This sort of thing is his forte after all.”

  “Sure, Herb. He’s a diplomat. They know all about wars and incidents and stuff like that. They’ll listen to him, I’m certain of it,” Spring said, attempting to bolster Herb’s spirits and keep him from doing something foolish they might all regret.

  A guard stalked through the entrance at that moment, thrusting a small bundle into Spring’s arms. It looked up at her and said “Goo.” It was the diplomat.

  19

  Time and Again

  Spring cradled the infant in her arms. The ants had provided some make-shift diapers and a baby bottle. She was not experienced with small children, but had figured out the basics well enough.

  It was unnerving to realize that intellectually it was a grown man she was dandling on her knee. Perhaps he gave it no thought or simply accepted it as the way of his kind?

  She looked into his pudgy little face, seeking some answer to their dilemma there.

  “Were you able to speak with them at all?” she asked. Th
e baby only gooed and smiled. Probably gas. Spring sighed. “I’m sorry. I know you understand me, but I can’t speak baby talk.” She tilted him onto her shoulder and patted. The diplomat burped.

  Herb watched Spring with her small charge. It was a pretty enough picture, young mother and child. If she were his wife—but of course she wasn’t, and never would be. If by some miracle they survived the fix they were in, Lily would become his life mate. Lily was a fine woman and would be a wonderful mother, he was positive.

  Lily had grown up quite a bit from the silly hot house blossom he had known. The trials they had all gone through had changed them, making them somehow stronger. He saw Lily in a new light, and felt more confident about their union. He only hoped they would have that chance.

  “He is regressing swiftly,” Cling Ling commented. “Soon, he will disappear altogether if we do not get him to his planet.”

  “Shhh, Cling,” Spring chastised him. “Not in front of the B-A-B-Y,” she spelled.

  “Spring, he can spell, too,” Herb said, amused.

  “Oh. I keep forgetting he’s not a real baby. But we have to do something. We can’t just sit here and let him vanish. Oops. Sorry, Diplomat,” she apologized.

  Before they had time to worry further, an escort of Army ants entered, commanding their party to accompany them immediately. Spring hastily gathered her baby paraphernalia and trotted along beside Herb. Cling Ling rolled behind them, followed by more ants.

  The strange group trekked down one long passage after another, around and through the deep labyrinth beneath the hill, stopping at last in a large cavernous room.

  There was an odor in the air of cooking vegetables originating from a huge iron pot in one corner with hot coals beneath. The cook stood stirring the steaming soup with a long ladle. He looked up and smiled, which was hard to decipher with a sideways mouth, while the guards indicated a long bench where the group was to sit.

  It had been some time since they had eaten, and Herb found his mouth beginning to water in spite of his fear. Perhaps it was a new type of torture.

  Spring leaned close to Herb and whispered, “Now what?”

  Cling Ling answered. “It appears to be the mess hall for this camp.”

  A guard addressed the cook in Universal so they all understood him. “Do you need anything else before you serve?”

  “Not anymore,” the cook replied, smiling. “All I needed was a nice green herb—”

  “Oh no you don’t,” Herb shouted, rushing across the floor before the guards could stop him. “You won’t put me in any pot.”

  He gave a kick and the huge kettle overturned. Hot soup and veggies flooded the hard dirt floor in every direction. Those nearest yelped in pain and jumped quickly away. Cling Ling had already gone into action, thrusting and twining his vines in a fine exhibition of Julep-so, clearing a path to the exit.

  “Run,” he yelled to the others, but they were already heading out the tunnel as the burned ants fell over each other in confusion.

  “Halt! Halt!” one cried out as they raced for topside and freedom.

  “Which way?” Spring panted at the junction of tunnels.

  “Any,” Herb yelled.

  “That one has light at the end,” Cling Ling said, pointing with a small branch.

  They could hear the shouts and cries of ants as they got organized behind them. They ran faster until at last they spotted the opening to the outside. It was good to see daylight again.

  “This way,” Cling Ling called out, rolling ahead. “We must get to the safety of the ship.”

  Herb looked back and saw that several ants were close behind them, and more were crawling out of the tunnel. It was hard to run in the loose, sandy dirt, and Spring couldn’t navigate too well holding the baby. Herb took the child from her and made her run ahead.

  The ants were gaining fast. This was their element and they could revert to all six legs for speed. Cling Ling reached the ship first, stretching down his vines to pull Spring aboard. Herb slammed against the side and held up the baby for his friend to take, then climbed in after. He managed to slam the hatch closed just as the first ant crawled up the side of the ship behind him. They couldn’t have cut it any closer.

  Inside, they heard a steady pitty patting sound against the portholes.

  “Rain?” Spring asked, frowning.

  They descended the ladder into their compartment and looked out. The ants covered the sides of the ship and were tapping furiously against the windows with their feelers.

  Cling Ling quickly lowered the covers so they couldn’t look in. “I think we are safe for the moment” he said.

  Spring let out a blood curdling scream. Everyone looked to see what the new crisis was. She had spotted their pilot in the corner, but now he was covered with a thick, squishy substance that seemed to be slowly hardening. Cling Ling poked at it with a leafy finger. A small bit came off like cold batter.

  “It’s only his cocoon,” Cling Ling explained. “It is as it should be. I must locate the ship’s flight manual if we are to escape.” He climbed topside, and returned a short time later with an octagon shaped object. It had numbers and symbols engraved on all sides and looked like translucent plastic.

  “It looks like a giant dice. Can you actually translate that thing?” asked Spring.

  “It has diagrams. I need a minute to absorb it,” he said, rolling to the side to study his find.

  The steady rapping continued, and the baby awakened, adding his voice to the melee. He had slept all through the mad race out the tunnels, unbelievable as it seemed. He was so tiny now, he looked like a newborn.

  “Oh. He’s shrinking again,” cried Spring. “Please hurry and get us out of here, Cling.”

  Abruptly, the rapping noise ceased, and the silence was deafening.

  “I wonder what they’re doing out there now?” whispered Spring.

  Herb climbed to the upper hatch and listened, but there was no sound. “Maybe they’re gone?” he said, climbing back down the ladder and lifting the cover from one of the portholes. “Uh-oh!”

  “What?” Spring asked, pushing close to peep out. Her breasts jammed against Herb’s side. He moved away so she could have the view to herself. Close proximity was too much to bear. It seemed even at a time like this he was susceptible to her feminine charm. He cursed his male weakness and deliberately forced thoughts of Lily to the fore. How she would despise him if she knew. How both of them would despise him!

  “We’re surrounded,” Spring wailed, as she observed the circle of ants, each holding one of the long, tubular weapons. Who knew what damage those things could do to the ship? At one side of the circle stood a large one, resembling a cannon. Primitive it might be, but surely effective at that range. It could probably rip a hole in the side wide enough to walk a whalephant through. “Cling,” she called nervously.

  “Yes, I am aware of developments, Mistress Moon.” He had been watching from his porthole. “I think I can manage the ship now, but we can’t achieve take-off before they could fire upon us. It is a dilemma.” He returned topside with the flight manual.

  “Now what are we going to do?” she cried, clutching the tiny baby to her breast.

  “What else can we do,” Herb said in disgust, “except surrender?”

  “We can’t do that either,” Spring said.

  “No. Not all of us. But, if one went out and distracted them, perhaps drawing their fire away from the ship, the others might have a chance to escape,” he said.

  “But Herb, who?” she asked.

  He pushed her aside and bounded up to the cockpit, unfastening the hatch.

  “No,” she screamed, realizing his intent, and quickly scrambled up the ladder to stop him.

  “Get her out of here, Cling,” Herb ordered, crawling outside and slamming the hatch shut beneath him.

  Spring tried to follow, but Cling Ling quickly fastened the latch and gently pulled her away from the door. “It is best,” he said, and began to man the contr
ols, pulling levers and pushing buttons. The Txnghc ship jarred to life.

  “But you can’t leave him,” Spring said in disbelief. She raced back down to the compartment and tucked the baby into one of the sacks, then pressed her nose to the nearest porthole.

  There was Herb, out in the dirt now, and walking purposefully to the Commander. He was saying something she couldn’t hear, then two of the guards came forward and escorted him to one side of the circle. The ants began to form two lines behind each other, raising their weapons.

  “Cling. It’s a firing squad. No! Not Herb!” she sobbed.

  A sudden lurch of the ship sent her reeling backward, falling to the floor just as the thunderous sound of the weapons exploded in her ears.

  “No,” she screamed. Hot tears burst forth to stream down her face. The rocking of the ship made standing up impossible. She crawled on hands and knees to the ladder to pull herself up, then began to climb up it.

  She had to get off the ship and see about Herb. Another lurch dislodged her hold from the railing and she fell back to the second level, striking her head against one of the metal rungs. She was out before she hit the deck.

  When she awoke, they were in deep space and she was tucked neatly into her sack. Slowly, memory returned, and with it, more tears.

  Herb, brave, good, kind, innocent Herb. He deserved much better than that ending. Now Spring had two deaths on her conscience because of Zygote. Perhaps three if they couldn’t reach Lily in time. Poor Lily. She would have to be told about Herb. So many victims in this trail of terror. She had to find a way to stop it.

  A small hand wiped away the moisture from her cheek. She opened her eyes and saw the young diplomat. He wasn’t an infant anymore. The timewarp must have worked. Cling Ling must have taken them backward again. That was good. The baby had almost shrunk into nothingness before she passed out. Spring put a hand to her forehead and felt a big goose egg. “Ouch.”

  “Excellent. You have returned to us,” said the young diplomat. “How do you feel?”

  “Miserable,” she answered, remembering Herb. “But I’m relieved to see you are well. That was a close call for you, Diplomat.”