Bryce Walton

“ That was, of course, true, thought Ward. There were insects that could spin cables stronger in ratio than any alloy strands, could create acids that undermined stone and steel, could create cities that, in proportion, dwarfed human cities into significance; they had perfected telepathy; they could grow wings, develop gills and live in water as mud or marine worms, or fly in the air, or burrow into the land. Their superiority was accomplished through specialized millions of marvelous individual instincts.
The centipede moved close, and its ocelli gazed at Ward fixedly. Its many legs quivered. ”

“ He wanted to see the end of the Mo-Sanshon’s dreams of conquest, and he wondered if he ever could, now.
The whining of a jet-car spiraled toward him. The sound of it died, as he saw its shadow settle on the gleaming surface of the desert clay. A Martian make, from the sound, new style. A figure emerged and walked toward him. Soon she was close enough to distinguish in the soft glow of the moonlight.
An unattractive girl was very exceptional. But no less exceptional than beauty such as this girl displayed boldly and proudly. ”

“ The woman-creature moved, eyes fixed on the bowl as though communicating.
She finally turned toward where Ward crouched helplessly on the cold, moist stone, his crushed leg projecting out uselessly. The nerveless face moved, gave out sounds like frost. “Our Queen has decided. You know where the cage of mercenaries is. You had it on the Sol. Because of your inferior nervous system which is so vulnerable to attack, you will soon give us the information we want. You and the cage are all that stands in our way.” ”

“ The taxidriver said casually. “The Mo-Sanshon, Doc.”
Ward gulped. “The Mo—”
“That’s the reason they’re never found out, Doc. Suicidals. When they suspect there’s even a dim possibility of discovery, they release a catalyst into their blood stream. That’s what happens.”
“But surely,” choked Ward, “someone has seen—”
“What? They can never prove they’ve seen what doesn’t exist any more. Psycho cells have always been loaded with patients who claimed to see what wasn’t there. Come on, let’s dust out of this hole!”
Peculiarly ancient jargon, thought Ward, even for a taxidriver. ”

“ The centipede writhed impatiently. Ward tried to ignore it. “How,” he asked, “do you create these imitation human organisms?”
“Specialization. Of specialization the so-called ‘insect’ species are the accepted genius of all species of life wherever they are found. Given species can reproduce equal, and in many cases superior, creations of humanoid intelligence by individual adaptation. There are more specialized types among our kind than all other organisms in the System combined. The Mo-Sanshon is now master of them all.” ”

“ They can’t know this life, Doc, and they shouldn’t live. And neither should little guys like us if we can’t reach the stars. Here I am, born in an age of atomics and interplanetary travel—and I’m bored. I have to read science-fantasy from the escape literature of past centuries to keep from going psycho. Do ordinary proletarians like me get to go to Mars and Venus, or even Luna? ”

“ Dark air-taxis glided past on traffic beams—glided unknowingly past the imprisoned entomologist who alone out of the billions on Earth and Mars had probed the fantastic, aged secrets of the Mo-Sanshon. ”

“ Or did it?
“But why should you believe me, when no one else does?”
“I just want to, Doc, that’s all. I think the old anarchistic culture was better than this puking state of the proletariat we’ve got now. Got most of my education from the past—nineteenth and early twentieth century literature. And I live in the underground ghettos of the present. Wishful thinking. I only hope you’re right, probably.”
“I assure you,” pleaded Ward. “I’m not a psycho.”
“I don’t give a damn whether you’re psycho or not. So am I. Anyway, we’re killers now, gangsters. Unheard of in our perfect little futile order. ”

“ The centipede-like monstrosity waved its fangs and edged nearer. The woman-creature spoke again.
“The Queen wishes me to say to you that your humanoid species is unjustified in its egomania. You think humanoids the most rapidly evolving organism in the Solar System, but that belief is not relative enough in regards to duration. Our culture had reached a degree of social organization more highly advanced than yours before what you call the Tertiary epoch. Once our culture ruled a world—Mars. Why did our culture stop, why did it not advance for thousands of years? ”

“ He had perfected these mercenaries in laboratories, and had succeeded in isolating and inbreeding, by the most intricate processes involving ray mutation of infinitely small genes. He had cultivated new insect-like forms, like one of our other ancient scientists did garden peas. Armies of insects to do man’s fighting for him against his insect enemies.
He had developed a thousand living specimens and tested them. Any opposing species of insect, regardless of size, they devoured immediately. The thousand were in that cage. ”

“ The woman-creature beside him simply said, “You will be injected with a paralysis secretion. Permanent disability. Its eggs will hatch under your skin, and the larvae will burrow into your body. You will die many kinds of deaths, and you will tell the Queen and the Mo-Sanshon what they want to know. You will tell where the cage is, how the mercenaries are created and how they operate. You will tell us where your notes and formulae are located. After that you will die as all males learn to die—for the Mo-Sanshon.”
Ward didn’t say anything. ”

“ It’s lifeless, evil and futile.”
“Right,” said Ward. “But I’ve often wondered why they haven’t conquered man before. They have the advantage of reproduction and adaptability. The Earth fly and the Martian trunj can reproduce over twelve trillion in six months. Their adaptability is vastly superior. They’ve been around for a billion years or more on Earth and on Mars probably longer. And their number of species is overwhelming—somewhere close to a million on Earth, on Mars somewhat less. Their only trouble has been their static culture. ”

“ Ward nodded. “The Mo-Sanshon will keep on trying every means they can within apparently legitimate channels to stop me before I can release those mercenaries inside their subterranean chasms. And that won’t be easy for us, either. I was there four years and couldn’t get anywhere near their headquarters. They’ve been there for centuries, aeons, before humanoid culture evolved on either world.”
“I know,” said Red. “How different and lonely their life must be—when you even compare it with ours. How envious and jealous they must be. ”

“ As a passenger of—”
“You are a labeled psycho. I have full authority to confine you in a psychocell until we reach Mars. There is no other way. Our other methods have failed. For a human male, you have rather a finely developed mind. You will die enroute of—natural causes. A ship can never be held responsible for what happens to a psycho’s unpredictable nervous system in space.”
Ward’s eyes circled the room. Red! For God’s sake, Red! The cage of mercenaries rustled. The Mo-Sanshon retreated instinctively, then suddenly, with amazing agility, jumped between Ward and the cage. ”

“ Ward said, “That was my starting premise. That mutant intelligence has appeared among the Mo-Sanshon and that their leadership has spread to Earth and has influenced certain species of insects there—mainly ants, termites, and bees. On both worlds, they’re now winning the battle of production. They’ll be able to starve man out by taking his plants away from him and undermine his cities, which they’re already doing at an alarming rate. Weakened by starvation, humanoids will be subject to disease, plague and pestilence, also brought by insects. ”

“ He was aware of periods of screaming and slobbering. He remembered indefinite episodes in which he was on his feet, hopping and jerking catatonically like a mad electric marionette. Every nerve cell jiggled; each separate nerve was erratic anguish. ”

“ Red laughed in a thin, mirthless way that sent a little tremor up Ward’s spine. “That’s right, Doc. Professor Limerick and his laboratory assistant. Educated morons who skip blithely down the perpetually dim halls of learning. They’re scheduled to leave on the Sol, blasting for Marsport at 2400. You know what for?”
“No,” whispered Ward faintly. “What for?”
“To study the indigenous spores of the canal peculiar to the eastern polar banks of—and I don’t know what else. Fiddlers while Rome burns. Who gives a damn about indigenous spores when the Mo-Sanshon is—?” ”

“ Ward shrugged. “I’ve got some equipment that must get to Mars very quickly, if my fight against the Mo-Sanshon is to be effective. Speed is essential.”
“Want to get them in the heart,” said Red.
“Why ... er ... yes. Their headquarters, their center of operation. In fact, to get the Queen Mother alone should be sufficient. The real intelligence, I believe, is only a small inner circle of mutations.”
Red leaned over the table. His rust colored eyes shown eagerly. “Then let’s go, Doc!” ”

“ And now to be a hero of an insect menace theme—”
“Was that the reason they stopped publishing that kind of stories,” said Ward, “because it was overdone, trite? Maybe the editors were influenced by the Mo-Sanshon, even then. Charles Fort, you’ve read him? The excluded and the damned are marching.”
“Fort and Korzybski, my bibles, Doc. And that’s a good theory. The insects have been the most obvious threat to man’s dominant position, yet they were ignored, the whole idea dropped when too much publicity was current.”
Red looked at the cage. “Mercenaries,” he said. “Ingenious as hell. ”