Mute (54 page)

In the morning she woke and turned to him and inquired, “Are we still lovers?” and he assured her that nothing had happened to change that, and then offered to demonstrate, purely as a public service, and she accepted and they conversed in squeeze language a lot more seriously than their actions suggested. That was when he learned of her experiments in psi, and she learned of his further thoughts and plans. He also reminded her of what he had told her before, that she had forgotten because of his own psi. She tended to remember the new creatures without recalling his part in it. It was an excellent session.

Klisty had a room of her own, and did not stir from it at night. She was old enough to realize that Knot and Finesse did not want any third party visiting at that time. In the day, however, she became quite useful, for Knot could tell her something, and she would tell Finesse—then Klisty would forget the matter because of Knot’s psi, but Finesse would remember, because she had not received the news directly from Knot. A third party was invaluable, this way. What it was necessary for Klisty to remember, Finesse told her. Thus there was a lot of repeating of inconsequentials, but the disruptive effect of Knot’s psi was minimized.

Klisty had the company of the animals in her room, however, so she was not really alone. The rats got to like her, and would settle down to snooze in her slippers. She made a sandbox for their function room; they were fastidious. She dubbed the three roaches Bedbug, Greenbug and Yelbug, and made a cardboard box for them to hide in, and soon had them walking on her hands without fading. She held limited mental dialogues with the five bees, and arranged to leave a jar of honey open for them in an inconspicuous spot; Knot hadn’t thought of that. At other times she contentedly watched the entertainment programs on the public holograph bands, which were pitched exactly to her level though labeled “Adult.”

The five bee-flies buzzed out periodically, foraging in the garden, then generally returned to Knot’s jacket, where they positioned themselves to merge with the pattern of the weave. They reported that hostile entities lurked outside; they picked up the lobos’ minds. The fleas were not in evidence at all; they remained strictly on the rats.

None of the creatures was obnoxious. Even the roaches were careful about where they deposited their droppings. Knot’s original aversion to dealing with vermin disappeared; in fact they stopped being vermin in his mind. They became animal acquaintances—as were Hermine and Mit. Useful ones, too—for the roaches’ sensitivity to danger would help a good deal as the group made its run for the space shuttle.

Hermine’s worry, though, extended beyond that upcoming dash. Mit should be able to counter a purely local threat pretty well, by having Knot separate from the others so that they would be clear to precognition. Then Knot could use his own psi to sneak through alone. But there might also be a distance threat. How could bugs and rats, with their specialized little species psi powers, alleviate that? It was not, of course, their job to protect Knot—but if they did not help, and he and Finesse perished, these animals would lose their own quests too. So there was an atmosphere of cooperation.

Then the mutiny broke out. Suddenly the despised vermin of Planet Macho were rebelling against their inferior status. It was amazing what chaos this caused. The city’s power failed and most commercial activity halted.

Actually, this was not as fortuitous or coincidental as it seemed. This mutiny had been gathering its power for some time, merely awaiting the appropriate trigger. Knot’s damage to the solar power station had made it vulnerable; it had been operating at partial output while repairs were made, and any additional stress could knock it out again. When Knot had refused to participate in the mutiny, even as negotiator, there had been nothing to hold it back. Knot himself, he realized, had some responsibility here. Had he done wrong?

He mulled that over at odd intervals, and concluded that he was unlikely to be the critical key to the status of the planet. Others must have turned down the hive too, and in any event the hive might not have intended to negotiate in good faith, or might have presented demands that made acceptance impossible. The whole interview with him might have been merely for show, to delude human beings about the intent of the bees. Still, Knot did feel a certain mild guilt.

“Nothing to do but turn in early,” Finesse said with a meaningful glance at Knot. “No telling when the power will return.” It was late afternoon, but the light would soon fade; nothing much could be accomplished without electrical power, here amidst the electrified society. How different this was from the chasm enclave!

Knot wanted to misinterpret Finesse’s look, but he knew better. It was escape, not romance she had in mind. A day early, to fool the lobos.

They made no special preparations; that would have been a giveaway. They simply ate a good evening meal, closed up the house, and went to bed as the darkness closed in—exactly as many Macho citizens must be doing. Knot knew Finesse was sending to Hermine, arranging a rendezvous.

Knot thought to the bees:
Vitamins, we are about to go outside together. It is dangerous. Please ask your hive members not to harass us.

The hive knows,
the bees replied fuzzily.
You will encounter no bees at all. The vermin know you have joined the mutiny, and will spare you.

I have not joined the mutiny!
Knot protested, remembering how he had fought battle with CC’s minions before, and lost. How could he remain aloof from causes, when the causes had psi-information about his destiny?
I agreed only to consider it.

The bees did not argue. Their intelligence was evidently enhanced by his presence, as Hermine’s was, but they lacked the mass of brain the weasel had, so could not respond as readily. Regardless, Knot was not about to turn against his own species. The revolt of the downtrodden vermin would have to proceed without him.

But as they were on their way to their rooms, in superficial innocence, a noise developed outside. Knot peered out the window, as any citizen would do. “There’s a fire out there!” he exclaimed.

It is the mutiny,
the bees explained.

Somehow Knot had not thought of it as a building-burning escapade.
I thought the hive was only showing its power, making a demonstration, not actually trying to kill people.

We do not mean to kill people, only to get their attention so they will negotiate. We must show them our power, yes, but in a manner they cannot ignore. We must show them that we can destroy them. You would not present our case, so now war begins.

Knot shook that off. He still did not care to accept the blame for a war. Obviously he had underestimated the destructive potential of the hive.
Some of your bees are pyro-psis?

No. We are a stable, superior species. We breed only telepaths. The rats are less advanced, less stable; they have pyros and other weed talents.

Weed talents. Add another major concept to the arsenal! By that definition, human beings were the weediest of all.

Still, bee definitions aside, it made sense. The rats were larger, longer-lived creatures; they would have had fewer generations aboard spaceships, and less chance to work into a stable mutant form. They would still have a tremendous number of deleterious mutations, and a few positive. They would have the wide range of psi talents that man did. That had been evident when Hermine got caught by the rat trap in the solar station. That, in fact, had been Knot’s first intimation that the animals were developing psi powers comparable to those of man. So much had happened since that experience that he had not had occasion to dwell properly on the significance of that discovery. He really should have done so.

The rats cooperate with the bees?
Knot inquired.

For now. We bees are better unified and disciplined. The hive coordinates.

The hive coordinated the talents of the other animals. It thus became their version of the Coordination Computer. This could certainly be a serious threat. The lobos represented one problem, but perhaps they were only one of a coincidental complex of problems, any of which could eventually destroy CC. Literal bugs in the governing machine could bring it down soon enough. CC would have to do some major overhauling of its policies, to survive the rise of the animal kingdoms. No wonder Hermine had been so anxious about his refusal to cooperate.

Of course it’s serious,
the bees agreed with a certain species pride.
If need be, we shall destroy your kind and govern the planet in your stead.

That suggestion put it back into perspective. Bees running a planet? Ludicrous!
Oh, I think mankind will not be destroyed in one night,
Knot thought tolerantly. Still, he realized, incendiary rats could make a lot of mischief in a city.
What will happen when the rats and the hive start disputing for territory between themselves?

We will destroy the rats,
the bees thought.

Uh huh. And soon the planet would be in chaos, as one species after another tried simplistic solutions to their problems. Man, at least, had been well broken in. No new species would gain, in the long run. Maybe he
should
have tried to negotiate a peaceful settlement; at least he could have educated the hive somewhat.

A flash of movement caught Knot’s eye in the wan light. The colored roaches were running about nervously, and beginning to fade into translucency. That meant danger. Personal, immediate threat.

Knot put a hand down for one to climb on. It was the yellow one. “Hey, Yelbug—what’s the matter?” he murmured. But the roach was unable to tell him.

The weasel is sending,
the bees thought faintly.
The matter is urgent.

Knot concentrated on Hermine, but read nothing.
Too far away for me to receive,
he thought back.
Can you bees read her?

Yes.
Then, in response to his prompting, they relayed the message:
Mit says the lobos will burn this house tonight. Hurry.

So the roaches’ fear was justified! How quickly a seeming vacation and recuperation period had become the familiar nightmare of combat and chase. The lobos intended to take advantage of the cover provided by the creature mutiny to eliminate their enemy without implicating themselves. Clever, ruthless, efficient; exactly what he should have anticipated from Piebald. Finesse had planned to trick the lobos by moving out a day early; Piebald planned to strike similarly early.

Tell Finesse,
he thought to the bees. He had not joined the hive, but they were allies at the moment, since a fire would wipe them all out together.

Finesse had gone to the bedroom. The bees buzzed off in tight formation. Knot set down Yelbug, then ambled into the bedroom and lay down on his bed in his clothes, as though too lazy to undress properly yet. He wasn’t sure what kind of observation the lobos might have operating now, with the failure of electricity, but wasn’t taking any chances. They were not unduly dependent on electrical tools anyway. Everything had to seem normal for the circumstance.

He lay there, rehearsing escape plans. He would have to gather the roaches and rats, coordinate with Finesse in the dark, and make early contact with Hermine. From that point, Mit’s clairvoyance would govern. Once they got clear of the house, they merely had to keep Finesse and Klisty out of sight. Knot could walk openly, knowing he would soon be cleanly for gotten. Unless the lobos decided to shoot him with a laser, and blame the killing on looters.

Knot decided that he, too, had best remain hidden, as much as possible. Their preplanned route to the space shuttle should still be good; it existed only in their minds. If it was unsafe, Mit and the invisible roaches would advise him. Except how could he see that they were invisible, in the dark? And how could he be sure that he hadn’t simply misplaced them? Be a shame to act precipitously because the roaches could not be detected in one pocket, only to discover them in another.

Certainly there was danger, but with the animal allies and Finesse’s psi they should be able to navigate safely through. He hoped. Their formidable collection of psi talents no longer seemed like such a perfect shield. He was concerned, but not really alarmed—or so he would convey to the others.

Finesse should have the message and be ready now. Knot rose silently, and found her waiting for him. Klisty stood in the hall; Finesse must have sent the bees to alert her too. Good.

This time they all left the house from the window, dropping silently behind bushes as Knot had the prior night. Again the houndcats were out—but they hesitated to approach the vicinity of the escapees. Finesse’s psi was at work.

The lobos were out too.
Bear right,
the bees advised, relaying Hermine’s directive.
There is a lobo behind the bush ahead of you. He hears you but will forget.

They bore right, avoiding the lobo. They threaded their way through a gap in the hedge and stood outside the estate, looking back. The house was silhouetted before the light of fires in the near distance. There was no sign of occupancy, but it was the same with the neighboring houses. All the residents were lying low, waiting for the authorities to get the situation under control, as they had been advised to do before the power failed. Macho citizens weren’t so macho at a time like this. Presumably many couples were passing the time by making love, as was traditional in such situations. Knot wouldn’t have minded being free to do that too.

A small breeze rose, carrying toward the house. “Stations ready?” a communicator box inquired. So they had independently powered equipment; that made sense. “Spread the ignitant; this has to burn fast and hot to catch them before they can escape. Fire the adjacent estates too; it has to look like random animal arson.”

The nearest lobo went to work, spraying flammable mist toward the house. Knot stood and watched, sorry that the property of the gross one’s brother, their benefactor, was about to be destroyed, but knowing that any attempt to interfere would be foolish. It was best to let the lobos believe that the three visitors had died in the flames—for now.