Mirabile (23 page)

“Mama Jason?” Jen came over to lean against my hip. “Are you going to let Susan make vampire bats? When they sprout Dragon’s Teeth, the Dragon’s Teeth look like people!”

It took us some time to sort that one out. Turned out she’d found Dracula in ships’ files and she’d made the best sense of it she could. Which was that a vampire was a Dragon’s Tooth that gave birth to bloodsucking bats and wolves and who knows what all else.

Elly, bless her many talents, made short work of straightening the kid out. I sure wouldn’t have known how to field that one!

“Oh,” said Jen at last. Then, turning her face up to me, she added, “It was your fault, Mama Jason. You told us to read fiction to learn about Earth-authentic species.”

“So I did,” I admitted. “And you’re right. I’d have thought the same as you, if somebody hadn’t told me better.”

“Oh,” she said again. “Okay, then.”

Leo caught her eye and said, “‘Okay’?”

“Sure. If Mama Jason says it could have happened to her, it’s not so bad if it happened to me.

When I get as old as Mama Jason, I won’t get mixed up about vampires.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Not about vampires. But you’ll get mixed up about something else, I guarantee. Old as Mama Jason is no magical protection.”

Jen eyed me sadly. “Too bad,” she said.

“Keeps me from getting bored, though. So don’t feel too sorry for me.”

“Right,” said Jen.

“Done,” said Ilanith. “What next?”

“Next we pop them into the incubators and we wait. The real work starts when we pop them out of the incubators. Raising mammals is a pain in the butt.”

“I’m a mammal,” Jen said.

“My point exactly.”

That brought a giggle from her. “Well, then,” she said, after a moment, “you should ask Elly.

She knows all about raising mammals.”

Which wasn’t such a bad idea. With everybody and Aklilu contributing, we told Elly everything she hadn’t already heard about bats. When we were finished, Elly gave it some serious thought.

“They need dark and they need to hang upside down and they need to be warm.”

Elly ticked the requirements off on her fingers.

“

And they need to be fed oftener than this troop,” I said, raising another of her fingers.

“You’ll need help tending them, then,” Elly said, nodding. “I can recommend any number of bat-sitters.” She looked around her expectantly.

The kids caught on even before I did. Elly got mobbed by enthusiastic volunteers.

She made sure each and every one of them knew what kind of responsibility they were taking on.

When she was finished, I had extra help by the handful.

“That takes care of the feeding,” Elly said, as pleased with the kids as she was with herself. “As for the warm, dark and upside down—how about pockets?”

“Pockets?”

“Sure. A baby bat can hang upside down inside your pocket, where it’s warm and dark.”

“Elly, you’re a genius.”

“No. I’m just good at raising small mammals.”

So by the time we were ready to pop the baby bats out of the incubators, we had patch pockets on all our shirts. Out of the incubator, into the pocket.

Half of Elly’s kids flew home to Loch Moose Lodge with their pockets full of baby bats, all safe and warm.

There was only one problem with that, but it would have been a problem wherever the baby bats were. That was the bat shit. Yes, I know bat shit has its very own name. Call it guano all you like, it’s still bat shit to me. And it was everywhere.

The bats survived only because they were, in Ilanith’s words, “incredibly cute.”

When all that cuteness took to flying, things got pretty exciting around the lab for a while, until we realized bats—even baby bats—never run into anything.

By that time, they were on solid food. We set the local kids to catching bugs for them, but they’d already made some forays at hunting for themselves. Toss a bug and they’d catch it on the wing nine times out of ten.

The acid test came quite by accident. One of our bug-catchers left the door to the lab open. It was dusk, one of those beautiful clear nights. Next thing I knew, we had the swarming horrors by the millions.

Mike swatted the air like crazy, trying to fend them off, cursing a steady stream at the negligence of the kid. I settled for covering my eyes and cursing just in general.

My pockets stirred and, before I could stop them, both my bats were in the air.

“Annie! My bats! Stop them!”

I blinked a dozen or more horrors out of my eyes and peered through my fingers.

Mike’s bats—Thorn and St. Germain—were in the air too. What with Tomato Surprise and Sulpho, that seemed to make more than four.

I had to lower my hands to watch. I’d have dropped my jaw at the aerobatics but that would have gotten me a mouthful of the swarming horrors. As I stared, Sulpho zigged, snapped up a dozen of the horrors, zagged to snap up another dozen, then did a full somersault in mid-air for yet another mouthful.

Tomato Surprise had an even neater trick. She dove into a cluster and scooped them up with her wing. Then she flipped up her tail to eat the ones she’d netted—all without losing so much as an inch of altitude.

I got it from the swarming horrors’ eyeview once, too. Thorn aimed straight for my face, teeth first. For all of a quarter second, I thought I was about to get an explanation for the bad press bats had on Earth. Then, with a flick of his wing, Thorn hung a right so sharp I could only gape. I felt a riffle of air along my temple and then all the horrors that had been buzzing around my face were gone.

Mike grabbed me by the arm. “Dammit, Annie—what if they get poisoned?”

“If eating swarming horrors kills ‘em,” I said, “we have to start over. We might as well find out now.”

He sighed. “Yeah, but…”

“How many times do I have to remind you not to make pets of the laboratory animals?”

“Don’t get snotty. You named yours first. And you look just like I feel.”

“Yeah,” I admitted, “but it’s too late now, and if they’ve got such an instinct for eating swarming horrors, you know as well as I do they’re gonna eat ’em sooner or later.”

In this case, it was sooner. They’d settled into a routine now, all four making graceful sweeps of the lab. With each pass the number of swarming horrors lessened. Now that’s what I call efficient!

They made unbelievably short work of the swarming horrors. Some fifteen minutes later, my bats landed on my shoulder and climbed back into their pocket, twice as fat as when they’d left it. I could have sworn I heard Tomato Surprise belch contentedly.

It was a week before Mike and I were willing to admit the bats had come to no harm. Then we did everything short of jumping up and down to celebrate. Jumping up and down would have disturbed the bats’ sleep, you see.

Later that week, Susan went back to Ashok for another set of embryo samples to start the cloning of a second batch.

Came time to release the first batch of bats, we decided to make a ceremony of it, which was nice because—for once—that fit in so well with my own plans. The first batch went to Loch Moose, and never mind how many guilds screamed. The mosquitoes were still on my mind.

Besides, Elly and the kids had had as much a hand in raising the babies as my team had.

So every last one of us trooped up to Loch Moose, our pockets full of bats.

First thing we got was a tour of the lodge’s attic. Elly’d enlisted the neighbors.

They’d raised the roof two feet, put in a couple of bat-sized openings, and covered the floor of the crawl space with a tarp. “According to Ilanith, bat guano is great for gardens. We thought we’d better find a way to, uh, harvest it once we get them moved in.”

I eyed Ilanith. “As long as you keep an eye on the vegetables to make sure the change in the EC

doesn’t change them

.”

“Will do, Mama Jason,” said Ilanith, snapping me a nod.

The kids had been making bat boxes to hang in the trees as well, just in case the bats preferred to leave “home.” I could see where this had gotten to be a major project. And I never turn down volunteer assistance.

We had one helluva dinner, then we went out on the porch and settled in to wait for nightfall.

“Or the swarming horrors, whichever comes first,” Ilanith said. “Akililu left the door open one night and a bunch of them got in, but the bats made short work of

’em.”

Aklilu made chomping movements with his hands to demonstrate.

There was a stirring in my right pocket. Tomato Surprise climbed to my shoulder, seemed to test the air, and clung there for a moment.

Jen, who was sitting on my lap, said authoritatively, “He’s clicking it out.” Aklilu stopped

“chomping” and nodded. To me, Jen said, “I can hear ’em sometimes.

Aklilu, too.”

This time Elly nodded. “The younger kids are more likely to be able to hear them.

Glen Sonics Dollery got curious enough to check it out with an oscilloscope. The bat’s lowest calls are just at the upper range of Jen’s and Aklilu’s hearing.”

“I’m sorry I’m missing it,” I said to Jen.

She gave my hand a squeeze. “Me, too. I like the way it sounds. It means he’s checking everything out…” She cocked her head a moment. “Now he’s gonna launch.”

And with that he did. Moments later, Sulpho and the rest of the bats did the same sort of routine. Jen and Aklilu giggled. Soft fluttering filled the air around us.

The bats were on their own at last. Now it was only a matter of wait and see if they’d survive—and if they’d thrive. We’d done the best we could to give them a Mirabilan twist. Now it was up to the bats themselves.

“All gone!” said Aklilu, happily. “Raise more bats, Mama Jason?”

“You betcha,” I told him. “Susan’s incubating them now. You wait a few weeks, you’ll have a new bat to feed.”

“Good,” said Elly. “I was a little worried what would happen when their pets left home.”

“Were you, Elly?” Ilanith stood up suddenly. “If I’d known, I’d have told you—

No, watch.” She held out her index finger and made a sort of chirping sound. She waited patiently for a moment, then chirped again.

“She’s coming,” Aklilu announced.

Next thing I knew, Ilanith had a bat clinging to her forefinger. She offered it a grub which it ate with relish. Then it launched back into the air and vanished again.

Mike said, “Now why didn’t I think of that?”

“Some people just aren’t as bright as others,” Susan told him, with a wink at Ilanith.

“Don’t fight!” said Ilanith. “I can show you how, Mike. It’s easy! They’re bright—you can teach

’em all sorts of things.”

Jen giggled. “You be careful if you teach it ‘sic ’em’ though. Ilanith did and didn’t have a grub ready so it chomped her finger instead.”

“I didn’t hear about that little incident,” Elly said, her voice ominous.

“Oops,” said Jen.

Ilanith spread her hands. “Don’t worry about it, Jen. We’d have had to warn Mike and he’d have told Mama Jason and she’d have told Elly anyhow.”

“Dead on right,” I said. I cocked a finger at Ilanith, though, and said, “Next time, I want to hear about it on the spot. When we’re gearing up for the release of something, we need to know all their behavior patterns.”

“But, Mama Jason,” Ilanith’s voice took on that exasperated-with-adults tone, “it was my fault it bit me.”

“Have I suddenly lost all my wits? What on earth made you think I wouldn’t take that into account?”

Ilanith found something terribly interesting around her feet that needed close observation.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, just about as audible as bat clicks. “I didn’t think.” Then a bit louder. “I didn’t mean to insult you.”

“No offense taken, so long as it doesn’t happen again.” I hoisted Jen into my arms and stood up to stretch my back. “Now, if you’ll all follow me, I’ve got a bit of a ceremony to perform.”

If I’d meant to take my time ambling back into the lodge, I lost that notion quick.

The level of curiosity led to a jostling which led to minor pushing which led to a stampede into the dining room. Chie-Hoon, the only one who knew what this was about, grinned at me. I put Jen down to let her join the mad race. And took my time getting there so I could make an entrance.

Nothing like an attentive audience to put you on your best behavior, I thought.

Damned if I knew what they expected me to do… Took me a minute to find Leo in all that crowd. Chie-Hoon grabbed his elbow and thrust him to the fore, rearranging some of the smaller kids so they could still see.

I made Leo my deepest bow and said, “Leonov Bellmaker Denness—I, Ann Jason Masmajean, beg you to hear my petition…”

It brought the house down. Elly outright whooped, then dropped to one knee to explain to Aklilu, “That means she finally thought of a courting gift for Noisy.”

“About time, too!” commented Susan.

“So hush up and let her finish,” said Leo, which brought instant quiet. He made me a return bow to get the ritual back on track.

“I have brought you a gift in symbol of my intentions,” I went on.

Another exchange of bows. Leo was pulling out all the stops. He did it with such flare that
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Aklilu had to try it, too. Aklilu fell over, giggled, got up to try again, and the second time succeeded. I think I managed to keep my face straight; Leo didn’t.

By the time I was halfway through my list of reasons for loving Leo, ritual got shot to hell. There I was on: “Because you’re the only person I’ve ever met with hands as big as mine” and “Because you volunteered to carry baby bats in your pockets”— and the kids started calling out suggestions…

“Because he can shout louder than anybody in the world

,” suggested Jen.

The hell with ritual. “Because you can shout as loud as I can,” I told Leo.

“Stories!” said Aklilu. “Because he tells the best stories!”

“Because you tell the best stories,” I echoed. Sometimes it’s hard to talk when you’re grinning that hard.

“Because he gene-reads his own pansies,” Susan contributed.