Clarke, Arthur C - Fall of Night 02 (45 page)

 
          
 
"If that long."

 
          
 
The advantage of living construction material
was that it grew together, encouraged by an adhesive, becoming tighter than any
manufactured seal. Nature loved the smooth and seamless. Soon their pyramid
held firm and snug.

 
          
 
They drifted away from Leviathan. Cley hoped
the skysharks would ignore them, and indeed the predators were nuzzling
greedily at the raw wounds amidships. Around Leviathan was a swarm of debris.
Into this cloud came spaceborne life of every description. Some were smaller
predators who scavenged on whatever the skysharks left. Others spread great
gossamer sheets to catch the air which poured forth from the Leviathan's
wounds. Small creatures billowed into great gas bags, fat with rare wealth.
Limpets crawled eagerly along the crusty hide toward the rents. When they arrived
they caught streamers of fluid that spouted irregularly into the vacuum.

 
          
 
This was a riotous harvest for some; Cley
could see joy in the excited darting of thin-shelled beetles
who
snatched at the tumbling fragments of once-glorious ferns. The wounds created
fountains that shot motley clouds of plant and animal life into a gathering
crowd of eager consumers, their appetites quickened by the bounty of gushing
air.

 
          
 
"Hope they don't fancy our taste,"
Cley said.

 
          
 
Her mouth was dry and she had long since
passed the point of fear. Now she simply watched. Gargantuan forces had a way
of rendering her pensive, reflective. This trait had been more eff"ective
in the survival of Ur-humans than outright aggression or conspicuous gallantry
and it did not fail her now. Visible fear would have attracted attention. They
drifted among the myriad spaceborne forms, perhaps too strange a vessel to
encourage ready attack; even hungry predators wisely select food they know.

 
          
 
"Do you think they will kill
Leviathan?" Cley asked.

 
          
 
"Mountains do not fear ants," Seeker
answered.

 
          
 
"But they're gutting it!"

 
          
 
"They cannot persist for long inside the
mountain.
For the space-borne, air in plenty is a quick
poison."

 
          
 
"Oxygen?"

 
          
 
"It kindles the fires that animate us.
Too much, and ..."

 
          
 
Seeker pointed. Now curls of smoke trickled
from the ragged wounds. The puffs of air had thinned but they carried black
streamers.

 
          
 
"The skysharks can forage inside until
the air makes their innards burn." Seeker watched the spectacle with
almost scholarly interest.

 
          
 
"They die, so that others can eat the
Leviathan?"

 
          
 
"Apparently.
Though I suspect this behavior has other purposes, as well."

 
          
 
"All this pillaging?
It's awful."

 
          
 
"Yes. Many have died. But not those for
whom this raid was intended."

            
"Who's that?"

            
"Us."

 
          
 
They waited out the attack. Wispy shreds of
smoke thinned as the Leviathan healed its internal ruptures, damming the
torrent of air. The remaining skysharks glided with easy menace over the
Leviathan's skin, but did not rip and gouge it. They ignored the periodic rings
of plant life around Leviathan's middle. Apparently these thick-skinned, ropy
growths had developed poisons or other defenses, and were left to spread their
leathery leaves to the sun, oblivious to the assault on Leviathan's body.

 
          
 
The skysharks fed first on debris. Then they
sensed Cley and Seeker and converged. 1 heir mouths gaped, showing spiky blue
teeth. Clay felt ominous, silent presences in her mind, like the sudden press
of chilled glass on her face. Seeker said, "Hate them."

 
          
 
"You do?"

 
          
 
"No, you hate them. That will protect
us."

 
          
 
''Now.
"

 
          
 
She let go some of her bottled-in emotions,
envisioning them as a sharp spear lanced directly at the nearest skyshark. This
time she felt her transmission as a bright spark of virulent orange. The
sky-shark wriggled, turned, fled.

 
          
 
"Good. Do that whenever one
approaches."

 
          
 
"Why doesn't Leviathan keep them off this
way?"

 
          
 
"In packs they damp and defend against
Leviathan thought patterns. But it taxes them greatly, for they are not very
intelligent. When foraging among the helpless outgushed life, that defense mode
is shut off."

 
          
 
Already the skysharks were roaming further
from the Leviathan, catching up with creatures and plant shreds blown away.
Their angular bodies bulged, bellies still throbbing with the struggles of
their ingested banquets. Fore and aft, appendages unfolded from their warty
hides. Parabolic antennas blossomed and scanned with patient, metronomic
vigilance. Cley suspected there were species which preyed on these sleek
hunters, too, though to look at these mean, moving appetites, she could not
imagine how they could be vulnerable.

 
          
 
"So you think they're after us?"

 
          
 
"They seldom assault a Leviathan; the
losses are too heavy. Usually it is a tactic of desperation, when pickings
elsewhere are lean."

 
          
 
"Well, maybe it's been a bad year."

 
          
 
"They were not thinned by hunger. No,
they were directed to do this."

 
          
 
"By the Mad Mind?"

 
          
 
"It must be."

 
          
 
Cley felt an icy apprehension. "Then it
knows where I am."

 
          
 
"I suspect it is probing, trying whatever
idea occurs."

 
          
 
"It killed a lot of creatures, doing
this."

 
          
 
"It cares nothing for that."

 
          
 
Their jury-rigged bubble was clouding with
moisture. Cley rubbed the surface to see better, forgetting the skysharks and
beginning to wonder how they could survive for long out here.
Mad Mind or no.
Seeker seemed unbothered. It spread its
hindquarters, assuming the posture which meant it intended to excrete, and Cley
said, "Seeker! Not now."

 
          
 
"But I must."

 
          
 
"Look, we're going to suffocate out here
unless—"

 
          
 
Seeker farted loudly and shat a thin stream
directly onto the nearest wall. "Take a deep breath," it said.

 
          
 
Cley caught just a taint of the smell—and then
her ears popped. Seeker's excrement had eaten a small hole in their protection.
Vacuum sucked the brown slime away.

 
          
 
Cley grabbed for the nearest wall as a
gathering breeze plucked at her hair. Sudden fear darted through her and she
sucked in air greedily, finding it already thinner. In the far wall a small
hole shrieked its banshee protest. The wall shot toward her. She struck it,
rebounded in the sudden chill. Seeker's fur abruptly filled her face and she
clutched a handful.

 
          
 
She would have demanded an explanation but
that would have taken air. Seeker surged, carrying her along with muscular
agility. Her ears felt as though daggers were thrust into her eardrums. Seeker
dug its claws into the walls, wedging the two of them into a corner. She
struggled to see what was happening.

 
          
 
Their draining air made a thin, screaming
rocket, thrusting them back toward the Leviathan. They passed into its shadow.

 
          
 
She saw a raw wound in the skin nearby. A pale
pink membrane slid out from its edges. The gouge looked like a majestically
closing eye, hurt and red-rimmed. They were headed nearly directly toward the
slowly narrowing rent.

 
          
 
Seeker lunged away. This momentarily altered
the direction of the jetting air. Then Seeker slammed against the far wall and
the jet swung again. This midcourse correction took them straight through the
closing iris of the gouge.

 
          
 
They struck a large, soft fern and bounced
among a confused net of branches. The pink membrane sealed shut above them,
puckering along the seam.

 
          
 
Cley could hold her breath no longer. She
exhaled, coughed, and sucked in thin but warm air. She breathed greedily,
blinking.

 
          
 
Around them small scurryings and slidings
began. The Leviathan had already begun to secure and revive itself.

 
          
 
"How . . . how'd you do that?"

 
          
 
"A simple problem in
dynamics."
Seeker yawned.

 
          
 
They lived for two days in the segmented
chambers of this zone. Armies of small, insectlike workers thronged everywhere,
patching and pruning. The pink membrane thickened just enough to keep in air
securely, but allowed in beams of sunlight which hastened re-growth. Cley found
food and rested, watching the crowds of hurrying workers. Through the
transparent membrane she could see the spaceborne life outside, and at last
understood their role.

 
          
 
Small crawler forms healed the torn skin with
their sticky leavings. Others seemed to ferry materials from distant parts of
Leviathan to the many lacerations. Strange oblong creatures scooted in from
distant places, trailing bags of fluids and large seeds.

 
          
 
She slowly caught the sense of Leviathan, its
interlocking mysteries. The carcass of a skyshark, gutted by its own internal
fires, became food for the regrowth of myriad plants. The armies which
distributed skyshark parts showed no malice or vindictive anger as they tore
the body to shreds, sometimes stopping to eat a morsel. They were intent upon
their labors, no more.

 
          
 
Though much could be repaired, clearly the
great world-creature was badly hurt. Long chasms yawned where skysharks had
ruptured enclosed pressure zones, spilling wealth. Whole regions were gray with
death. The reek of bodies drove Cley and Seeker from the once-tranquil groves
of ropy, banyanlike trees.

           
 
But the true sign of the enormous damage came
when Cley felt a slow, steady gravity pushing her toward the aft layers.