Empire of the Ants (26 page)

4,000th stopped in front of a flower. The pain was suddenly too much. Within her old body, which had been through a lot that day, the young ichneumon wasp larvae had at last woken up. They were probably having lunch, gaily tucking in to the poor ant s internal organs.

To
help her, 103,683rd brought up a few molecules of lomechusa honeydew from the bottom of her social crop. After the fight in the underground passages of Bel-o-kan, she had stored a minute amount of it in case she needed an analgesic. She had handled it very carefully and had not been contaminated by the delicious poison.

4,000th s pain was relieved as soon as she ingested the liqueur but she wanted more. 103,683rd tried to reason with her but 4,000th was not to be deterred. She was ready to fight her friend for the precious drug and was about to leap to the attack when she slid into a kind of sandy crater. A lion-ant trap!

Lion ants, or to be more precise their larvae, have shovel-shaped heads, with which they dig their notorious craters. All they have to do then is bury themselves and wait for passers-by.

4,000th realized a little too late what was happening to her. Generally speaking, ants are light enough to get out of such a spot, but before she could even begin her climb, two long mandibles bristling with spikes suddenly appeared from the bottom of the bowl and sprayed her with sand.

Help!

She forgot the suffering caused by her uninvited guests and her craving for the lomechusa liqueur. She was afraid and did not want to die that way.

She struggled with all her might but, like spiders' webs, lion-ant traps are designed to work on their victims' panic. The more 4,000th flailed about to climb out of the crater, the more its sides collapsed and dragged her down to the bottom, where the lion ant was still spraying her with fine sand.

103,683rd had quickly grasped that if she leant over to hold out a helping leg, she would be in danger of falling in as well. She went away to look for a blade of grass that would be sufficiently long and strong.

The old ant grew tired of waiting and let out a scent cry. She pedalled harder than ever in the almost liquid sand and went down even faster. She was now no more than five heads from the shears. Seen close up, they were absolutely terrifying. Each mandible was notched with hundreds of sharp little teeth, themselves separated by long, curved pikes. The tip resembled an awl which could pierce any ant shell without too much difficulty.

103,683rd at last reappeared at the edge of the bowl and held out a daisy to her companion. The old ant quickly reached up to grasp the stem but the Hon ant had no intention of relinquishing his prey. He frantically showered the two ants with sand so that they could no longer see or hear anything. Then he began to throw pebbles, which made an ugly sound as they bounced off their chitin. Half buried, 4,000th continued to slide.

103,683rd gripped the stem in her mandibles and braced herself for a jolt which did not come. Just as she was about to give up, a leg shot out of the sand. 4,000th was safe. At last she jumped out of the death-trap.

Down below, the greedy claws snapped with rage and disappointment. The Hon ant needed protein for his metamorphosis into an adult. How long would he have to wait before another prey slid down to him?

4,000th and 103,683rd washed and indulged over and over again in trophallaxis. This time, lomechusa honeydew was not on the menu.

'Good morning, Bilsheim.' She held out a limp hand.

'Yes, I know you're surprised to see me here but this case is dragging on too long. It's become too serious now. The chief's already taking a personal interest in it. I've decided to lend a hand before the minister steps in as well. Cheer up, Bilsheim, I'm only kidding. Where's your sense of humour?'

The old policeman was lost for words. This had been going on for fifteen years. Saying 'of course' to Solange Doumeng had never worked and she had soured considerably with age. He glared at her but her eyes were hidden under a lock of the hair she dyed a fashionable red. It did not make her any less unattractive.

'Why did you come? Do you want to go down into the cellar?' asked the policeman.

'You must be joking! No, you're going down, I'm staying here. I've got everything I need, a flask of tea and my walkie-talkie.'

'What if something happens to me?'

'Why imagine the worst? Haven't you got any guts? I told you, we're linked by radio. At the first sign of danger, let me know and I'll do whatever's necessary. We're really looking after you, you know. You're going down with all the latest equipment. Look, you'll have a mountaineering rope and guns, not to mention six strong men.'

She indicated the policemen standing to attention. Bilsheim muttered:

'Galin went down with eight firemen. It didn't do him much good.'

'But they didn't have any weapons or radio contact. Don't look like that, Bilsheim.'

He did not feel like arguing. It only exasperated him. If you argued with Solange Doumeng, you became like her. She was like a weed. He had to try and grow without being contaminated.

The disenchanted inspector put on a potholing outfit, tied the mountaineering rope round his waist and slung his walkie-talkie across his shoulder.

'If I don't come back up, I'd like all my belongings to go to the police orphanage.'

'Stop bullshitting, Bilsheim. You'll come back up and we'll all go to a restaurant together and celebrate.'

'Just in case I don't come back up, there's something I'd like you to know.'

She frowned.

'Stop being childish, Bilsheim!'

'I'd like you to know we all have to pay for what we do in the end.'

'Now he's gone all mystical on us. No, Bilsheim, you're wrong.
We
don't have to pay for what we do. Maybe there is a God, as you say, but if there is, he couldn't care less about us. And if you don't enjoy yourself while you're alive, you certainly won't get a chance to when you're dead!'

She sniggered briefly, then went up to her subordinate until she was close enough to touch him. He held his breath. There'd be enough unpleasant smells in the cellar.

'But you're not going to die. You're going to solve this case. It wouldn't help much if you died.'

The inspector was growing childish with vexation. He was like a little boy who had had something taken away from him and was resorting to insults because he knew he was never going to get it back.

'Of course, my death would mean the failure of your

"personal" investigation. They'd see what happens when you "lend a hand", as you say'

She came still closer, as if she meant to kiss him on the lips. Instead, she spat deliberately:

'You don't like me, do you, Bilsheim? Nobody likes me and I couldn't care less. I don't like you, either. I don't need to be liked. There's something you should know, though. If you die down there, I won't be in the least put out. I'll just send in a third team. If you really want to harm me, come back alive and successful and I'll be in your debt.'

He did not answer. He had caught sight of the white roots in her fashionable hairdo and felt better already.

'We're ready,' said one of the policemen, picking up his gun.

They had roped themselves together.

'OK, let's go.'

They nodded to the three policemen who would stay in touch with them on the surface, then disappeared into the cellar.

Solange Doumeng sat down at a desk on which she had set up her two-way radio.

'Good luck. Come back soon.'

THREE JOURNEYS

56th had at last found the ideal place to build her city. It was a round hill. When she climbed to the top, she could see the easternmost cities, Zoubi-zoubi-kan and Gloubi-diu-kan. If all went well, it should not be too difficult to link up with the rest of the Federation.

She examined her surroundings. The ground was quite hard and grey in colour. The new queen looked for a soft spot but it was hard all over. When she stuck her mandible in to try and dig her first nuptial chamber, she felt a strange little tremor, reminiscent of an earthquake but far too localized to be one. She stabbed the ground once more and the trembling began again except that this time it was worse. The whole hill rose up and slid to the left.

In living memory the ants had seen a great many things but never a hill that was alive. This one was now moving along at a good pace, cleaving through the tall grass and crushing the undergrowth.

56th had still not got over her surprise when she saw a second hill approaching as if by magic. She did not have time to get off and was carried away into a parade of amorous hills. It was bad enough when they pawed each other shamelessly but 56th s hill was female and another hill climbed slowly on top of her. A stony head gradually emerged and this dreadful gargoyle opened its mouth.

It was too much for the young queen and she gave up the idea of founding her city in the area. Rolling to the bottom of the headland, she realized the full extent of the peril she had escaped. The hills not only had heads but also four clawed feet and small triangular tails.

It was her first sight of tortoises.

the time of conspirators
: The most widespread system of organization among human beings is a complex hierarchy of 'administrators', powerful men and women, who supervise, or rather manage, smaller 'creative'
groups, whose work is then appropriated by 'commercial' personnel in the name of distribution. The administrative, creative and commercial personnel make up the three castes which nowadays correspond to ant workers, soldiers and reproductive forms.

The struggle between Stalin and Trotsky, two early twentieth-century Russian leaders, is a marvellous illustration of the change from a system favouring the 'creative' group to a system favouring the administrators. Trotsky, the mathematician and inventor of the Red Army, was ousted by Stalin, the conspirator. A page had been turned.

It is quicker and easier to get ahead in society by exercising charm, uniting assassins and putting out disinformation than by producing new ideas and things.

Edmond Wells,
Encyclopedia of Relative and Absolute Knowledge

4,000th and 103,683rd had set off again on the scent trail leading to the termite hill of the east. On the way, they met beetles pushing along balls of humus and explorer ants of a species so small they were hard to see and others so big the two soldiers could hardly make themselves seen.

There are over twelve thousand species of ants, each with its own morphology. The smallest measure only a few hundred microns and the largest can be up to seven centimetres in length. Russet ants are medium-sized.

4,000th at last seemed to get her bearings. They still had to cross the patch of green moss, climb up the acacia bush and pass under the daffodils, and it should be behind the dead tree trunk.

And once they had crossed the stump, the eastern river and port of Satei did indeed appear before them through the sea-grass and buckthorns.

★
★š
★

'Hello, hello, Bilsheim, are you receiving me?' 'Loud and clear.' 'Is everything all right?' 'Yes, fine.'

'The length of rope unrolled shows you've gone four hundred and eighty metres.' 'Great.'

'Have you seen anything?'

'Nothing worth mentioning. Just a few inscriptions engraved on the stone.'

'What sort of inscriptions?'

'Esoteric formulae. Would you like me to read you one?' 'No, I'll take your word for it.'

The 56th female's belly was seething. Inside, the inhabitants of her future city were pushing and pulling and waving their legs about with impatience.

She therefore stopped being fussy, chose a bowl of ochre and black earth and decided to found her city there.

The place was not too badly situated. She couldn't detect any smell of dwarves, termites or wasps thereabouts and she even noticed a few trail pheromones indicating that the Belokanians had already passed this way.

She tasted the earth. The soil was rich in trace elements and was moist without being wet. There was even a little overhanging shrub.

She cleared a circular area three hundred heads in diameter, which was the best shape for her city.

She felt exhausted and swallowed to bring up the food in her social crop but it had been empty for some time. She had no energy reserves left. She therefore tore off her wings with a sharp tug and greedily ate the muscles in their roots.

With this intake of calories, she should be able to hold out for a few more days.

She then buried herself up to her antennae. No-one must be able to spot her while she was easy prey.

She waited. The town hidden in her body was slowly waking.

What would she call it?

First she had to think of a queen's name. For ants, having a name meant existing as an independent entity. Workers, soldiers and virgin males and females were only designated by the number of their birth. Fertilized females, on the other hand, could take a name.

Hmm. When she left, she was being pursued by the rock-scented warriors, so she could simply call herself 'the pursued queen'. But, no, she was being pursued because she had tried to solve the mystery of the secret weapon. She must not forget that. So she became 'the mystery-born queen'.