“Arlo, beloved—I know you can hear me,” she said.
Her telepathy informed her he was conscious, of course. He didn’t move. He could see her also, but deemed it inexpedient to let her know if he didn’t have to. She had fought her way to him; what was her intent?
“I’ve been thinking,” she said, kneeling beside him so that her breasts were almost above him. “You know my mother—your grandmother Malice—is dead. I am destined to take her place, in the minion fashion. It isn’t that I don’t love you—it’s that I can’t go against my nature. Arlo, believe me, I didn’t know my father was still alive...”
Arlo waited. She certainly hadn’t offered him much of an inducement to respond; she had only confirmed what Chthon had warned. Nothing for him here.
“I came to subvert you, as you know. But they did not tell me who you were, that you were my father’s son. I thought you were a stranger until you talked of Malice. And even then, though I had met Aton, I did not realize that he was the Aton Five, whom I thought dead. Maybe I didn’t want to know. I accepted you as my brother without following the obvious reasoning through, perhaps because it was obvious that Coquina, your mother, was no minionette. Until Bedside forced it on me. On Minion there is never a brother and sister; our minds simply do not work that way. So I erred and made you a promise I could not keep; therein is my crime.”
He could accept that much. Aton had legally died when he was sent to Chthon—and the minionette birthed only one child at a time. Aton’s connection with two minionettes and a human woman was extraordinary, in Minion terms. There would naturally be much resistance to these concepts, to one raised on Minion. And it would not be easy to change one’s concept of a man legally dead to actually alive, unless a specific issue were made of it.
There were tears on her face, evidence that Vex was suffering in exactly the way a normal girl would. She was not receiving his emotion, which was deadened at the moment; she was experiencing her own, and it did her credit. “But I know this hurts you, Arlo, and though I am what I am, I would not hurt you voluntarily, because you were my betrothed...”
Were...
“But we have forgotten that another person will be hurt, too. I don’t want to hurt anybody—not that way. Minionettes have feelings just like yours—you’re quarter-minion so you know that’s true—only the telepathy inverts them. Your mother Coquina would be left out, and she has nothing because she can’t even leave her cave. She needs to be considered; it isn’t right to take Aton away and leave her nothing. She’s not a minionette, not part of the scheme.”
So Vex had a human conscience, too! Would she renounce her minion heritage? She was right about Coquina; the shell did not deserve this treatment!
“So I’ve worked out a compromise,” Vex said, “and I wanted you to know. There is no need for anyone to suffer further.”
Doc Bedside stood up, but did not interfere. What point? Arlo loved Vex; if she were his, Chthon could retreat into its rock and be forgotten—if that were the price of it. If she were really his. It would hurt him to renounce Chthon—but that very hurt would attract her more strongly to him.
Minion logic and custom differed from normal human, but the logic of the situation forced a common answer. Two could not steal their happiness at the expense of two others.
Arlo gathered his forces, preparing to step out of his trance the moment she said the word.
“When I go with Aton,” Vex said brightly, “you go with your mother Coquina. That will establish two legitimate genetic ladders, and no one will be excluded.”
00
Arlo retreated to the world of LOE, the garden of his mind. He shied away from the Oedipus/Electra mythologies, seeking something less painful, yet applicable. A framework for his situation, buried in the massed Human wisdom of the book.
Interlog
And found himself in Norseland.
Aesir—his dead brother. In the Norse mythos, the Aesir were gods who resided in Asgard, the great walled city that was the divine residence. Chief among these gods was Odin, he of the single eye, maker of golden rings.
Arlo paused, feeling a shock of recognition. He knew that figure! It was his father Aton.
Odin possessed an eight-legged horse named Sleipnir. Sleipnir had come about when the friend/enemy god Loki took the form of a mare to distract the remarkable stallion of a giant—and had subsequently birthed Sleipnir. As Bedside had fashioned Aton’s steed, by merging with the caterpillar. So Loki was—Doc Bedside. How well it fit!
Odin had two wives. The first was Freyja, a Valkyrie or warrior maiden, in one of her aspects. Malice the Minionette!
With climbing excitement, Arlo explored the other parallels available. Odin’s second wife was Frigga, the mother of his two sons—though he seemed to have had other children on a less legitimate basis (Morning Haze)—and a somewhat less extravagant female than Freyja. This was Coquina, of course.
And the first legitimate son was—Balder. Balder was beautiful. But as Balder grew older, he became disturbed by nightmares. These gave him a premonition of impending doom and colored his whole outlook, making him melancholy.
Alarmed, Odin made a trek to the world of the dead to inquire about his son’s prospects. He rode his eight-legged steed (Arlo paused: an anachronism here—but time was fluid and the parallels inexact) along the rough and dangerous road, crossing the bridge that spanned the river marking the boundary of the underworld.
Everywhere he saw preparations being made for a great celebration. When he inquired, he was told that the Underworld was making ready to welcome Balder. He inquired further about the manner of his son’s death, but could learn no more.
But Frigga was determined to save her son from his fate. She set out to obtain a pledge from all things of the world that none would harm Balder. All promised—expect one she overlooked, a spring of mistletoe.
Now Balder seemed safe. The other gods made a game of throwing a great variety of things at him, knowing that none would hurt him. But Loki fashioned a dart from the mistletoe and got a blind god to throw that. It struck and killed Balder.
So that was how Bedside had killed Aesir!
Frigga sent an emissary to Hel, the goddess of the Underworld, to plead for the return of Balder. “All nature mourns for him,” he said.
Hel told the emissary that if not even one thing did not weep for Balder, then she would have to release him. So they made a survey—and Loki changed himself into the likeness of an old woman and refused to weep. And so Balder was lost.
This was the signal of the beginning of the end, for the gods had been unable to preserve their most cherished one. It portended the extinction of the gods at Ragnarok, the final battle between Good and Evil.
(Again Arlo paused: In the old Norse framework, the entire pantheon of gods, giants and dead had been “good’ in that it was the established way of belief. All of it had fallen—to Christianity. In that sense, Christianity was the Evil that had triumphed—yet had the Christians seen it that way? How could any person really know Good from Evil?)
But the gods had discovered what Loki had done, and they punished him severely by binding him in a deep cave under dripping poison. He remained in that torture until Ragnarok.
Arlo worked it out. Benjamin’s revenge had confined Bedside to the caverns. Chthon had put him into the caterpillar. He had paid for his crime both intellectually and physically!
Odin’s second son by Frigga was Thor, red-bearded god of thunder. That could only be—Arlo himself! And Thor’s wife was Sif, of the golden hair—considered in some versions to be another minionette, closely related to Malice.
Bedside had cut Vex’s hair just as Loki cut Sif’s. The parallels fell into place so neatly; he should have perceived them long ago!
Yet how did this help him to solve his problem with Vex? By whatever name, he loved her, though she was his sister. Though? His minion blood compelled the truth: because she was his sister! Sif might be an aspect of Freyja, and the go
ds might tolerate father-daughter marriage—but Arlo wanted Vex for himself.
He turned to his friend. “You were right. The minionette had nothing for me. What do you offer?”
Chthon showed him. The power of the mineral intellect flowed into his being, and he was able to control the animals of the cave: to make them stop, turn, march—at his will, not theirs. He could perceive through their senses, individually or multiply. He could station them on three sides of a stalagmite and see that pillar in the round, holographically. Much better than his human eye! The entire caverns became open to his comprehension, without physical travel on his part. Godlike power, indeed!
The minionettes were still advancing. Their minds were opaque; they had not submitted to the myxo inducement and were not part of Chthon’s demesnes. They were a brutal, alien intrusion, cutting into the heart of the living caverns, killing the eyes and ears and noses of Chthon.
“If I were running this war...” Arlo murmured.
Run it, Chthon replied. For this you were cultivated.
So that was it! Chthon was not competent to combat the massed minionette attack and needed a general. Chthon had foreseen the potential need for the generalship of a human mind to ward off such an invasion by human beings—at least until the killchill deadline had passed.
“But then I, too will die!” Arlo cried, realizing.
No. Even as I spare your mother the chill, I spare you the killchill.
“Spare my family, too!” Arlo bargained.
We spare all life within this planet, Chthon assured him. All other life shall be extirpated.
Arlo hesitated. What did he care about life outside the caverns? His world was here. “Fair enough’
He concentrated. He summoned the most mobile creatures of the caverns: the large chippers, flying chimeras, small salamanders, and others. The caterpillars, potwhales, and dragons were limited largely to their private habitats; they could be useful, but not as mobile troops. He moved his creatures into the labyrinth surrounding the most forward column of minionettes. Then he sent them charging, in a many-sectioned wave, striking, biting, shoving.
The minionettes, attacked from all sides, fought bravely. But they were overwhelmed. The poison of the salamanders did the most damage, for they infiltrated undetected during the distraction provided by the larger beasts. Arlo didn’t even have to direct them once they spied the prey; they attacked savagely, for it was their nature. And—the minionettes, enjoying the sheer hate of the salamanders’ little minds, tended not to protect themselves well from the bites, though the poison had the same effect on them as on normal Human flesh.
“Organization and attack,” Arlo said to Chthon. “Pick your site, gather your forces—and victory is certain. Don’t wait for them to strike! They’ve never faced organized animals before and don’t really believe it is possible. Wipe out every member of an attacked party, and it will be some time before they catch on. With luck, we’ll get enough so they can no longer muster effective missions.”
Then something else claimed his attention. He focused—and found he was in the mind of Doc Bedside. This was intriguing; the man was only half-controlled, but he responded quickly to suggestions, and the human brain and experience was phenomenally more complex than the animals. If this were what half a human mind offered, how much better a full one!
And Arlo himself was that full mind. Raised, like the animals of the caverns, right here in the bosom of Chthon, so that communication was possible without the intercession of the myxo. Possible, but not assured; the human mind had to be amenable. Not a zombie, but a partner, drawing on Chthon’s immense resources, contributing his own. The ideal collaboration!
He did not try to control Bedside. He merely drew from the mad doctor’s senses. These at the moment were orienting on Vex; that was what had attracted Arlo’s attention. He was surprised to learn that Bedside found Vex physically attractive—but what male wouldn’t? The two were nevertheless enemies.
“Let me through, zombie, or I’ll ram your head through a wall!” Vex snapped. “I want to talk to Arlo again.”
“Talk to me, ’ Bedside said. “Arlo is in conference with Chthon, and shall not be disturbed again.”
She charged at him. Now Arlo assumed control. He caught her lifted arm, put one foot against hers, shifted his weight to bring her off balance, and spun her by him, panting—and Bedside’s perception was as responsive to the heave of her perfect breasts as Arlo was. “So you want to fight!” she snarled. Even twisted by genuine rage, her face was a lovely thing.
“I am Arlo,” Arlo said through Bedside’s mouth. The words were somewhat slurred, because it was the first try, but he knew it would not take long to adjust.
She stared at him, shocked, and despite the opacity of her mind he felt the fringe of her emotion: pleasant acceptance. That actually would be irritated incredulity, if the reversal held for her broadcasting as well as for her reception. But mixed emotion was difficult to interpret anyway. “Why so you are! How—?”
“What did you have to say to me?”
Now she faltered. “Could I talk to you, personally? I don’t like him listening.” She meant Bedside.
“All the caverns are listening,” Arlo said, with moderate but intentional cruelty.
“But he enjoys it too much.”
Accurate assessment! Bedside would have been happy to have Arlo make love to her, using Bedside’s body. That would have created a complex of emotions like that of Morning Haze, Misery, and the dying Xest. Arlo sent Bedside away.
Vex approached his body. Now he animated it, as he had Bedside’s without actually reentering it. His mind was with Chthon; only his perception and control extended to the physical mechanism. Chthon was correct: the Arlo brain, sane, competent and compatible, was the finest instrument available in all the caverns. With that tool, Chthon could win the war with the Minionettes. But he merely listened, not responding overtly.
Vex knelt beside him, as she had before. “ I tried to compromise, Arlo, to make it right for you. But you wouldn’t have it that way. I was thinking Minion, not Human, and I’m sorry. But it is time for complete candor between us. Your folks wanted you to have a human girl so you would not grow up alone. Without the chance for love, Bedside said he’d arrange it, with Chthon’s consent. But your Uncle Benjamin outmaneuvered us all and substituted me. None of you knew I was a minionette until too late.
Chthon was first to realize, but you balked it from killing me. Then Chthon reversed the ploy by bringing me together with Aton. So it has been some tough infighting with you and I both pawns.
“But I do love you, Arlo. On Minion you would have killed your father to possess me, and it would have been all right. Aton killed his father, really, to possess my mother. But you don’t have enough minion blood. Well, I have a mission to perform, and that has to override my nature. Because without that mission, there will be nothing, nothing at all—except Chthon. No love, no life, no nature. So I have to assume that my father is dead, and that you are the senior serving Five. Because we do need you, Arlo. You know the caves better than any sane man—and no man from the galaxy can resist the myxo. The minionettes must ultimately follow a man; it is the way we are constituted. Without the animation of a strong man, one with minion blood, our effort must weaken and fail, as it is doing already. You will have to prove yourself—but I believe in you, and not merely because I love you. I know you can do it.
“You have won, Arlo. I will be your bride, faithful to you. Only come back to us and command the forces of Life.”
She waited, but he did not respond. “I won’t even tease you, Arlo,” she added. “Your love is my pain, but I am quarter-human. I can take it without dying. Do what you will with me; feel what you will. I will never bear a son to replace you, if that is your preference. Anything—”
It will not work, Chthon warned. You do not want a broken woman. Torture is not your way.
All I want is her, Arlo responded. I will accept her offer wit
hout implementing it. It is enough that she came to me.
But I offer you so much more, Chthon said. Why give up all this for the sake of one girl you cannot be happy with?
Chthon was right and Chthon was reasonable, and Chthon was making no threats. Chthon was his friend, even in this adversity. But Arlo was already sitting up, taking Vex into his arms.
CHAPTER V
Thor
The tide of battle had turned. The cavern creatures were now organized and on the attack, cutting off and surrounding segments of the minionette army and annihilating them by living-sea charges. Arlo recognized the strategy, for he had developed it himself. No doubt Chthon was now using Bedside’s mind to organize the individual actions. Bedside would not be as creative—but Chthon had so many expendable animals that it could soon wipe out the entire forces of Life. All that was needed was that one spark of creative thought that Arlo had provided.
No wonder Chthon had let him go without a fight. Arlo had already provided Chthon with the key to victory.
According to the mythology of LOE, the forces of Good were to suffer defeat at Ragnarok. Setting aside the question of which side represented Good and which Evil—for Arlo was not certain himself whether Life could seriously be equated with Good—there remained substantial doubt. No matter what, the gods would not prevail; it was the end of the system. What use, then, to struggle?
“Chthon’s winning,” Arlo told Vex as he surveyed the situation. “The farther our troops penetrate the caverns, the more difficult it becomes for us. Our supply lines get longer, and we encounter more controlled animals. It’s the Hard Trek all over again. We can’t sustain our present rate of losses. We’ll be wiped out.”
“We are well aware of that,” she said. “The moment you went to Chthon, we started suffering disasters. We have contingents from the four major sentiments of the galaxy, but can’t coordinate them properly. That’s why we knew we had to have you back. You are the key to victory—either way.”