GROUND / CH. 15:FAMILY FORTRESS

TAKAN'S FAMILY HOME, LITTLE YASFORT

“That is a big house,” Lana said, seeing it from the road.

“It was before the time of electricity, Lana. Having servants was normal, and the house was built to be defensible as well.

My grand-father thought he was an important man, and had a house this sized built in the cave. The people of the village were so happy to move out of the cave when the harvest came that they made this building, both in thanks to my parents, and as a fort.”

“So actually this is Little Yasfort?”

“Urm, I suppose, you could say that.”

“And it was built as a home for several families?”

“Not quite like you're thinking, I expect.”

“We should have asked for the key.”

“You think so?” Kalak asked, bemused, “This is not the city, Lana.”

“You mean there are no locks?”

“Let us see. I wonder how much has been changed and how much is really the same.”

“It must have locks if it is meant to be defensible,” Lana said.

“I am sure there are still big heavy bolts to lock the doors from the inside,” Kalak said, approaching the door.

“It's an interesting porch,” Lana said, “why is it set back into the house like that?”

“So that if you don't like the visitors knocking on the door you can shoot arrows into his head from the room above.”

“Oh.”

“Or from the side rooms, of course. But let's see if the latch in this arrow slit still works.” He pulled on a metal ring, and there was a click from the door.

“That's just so insecure!” Lana said, opening the door into the hallway.

“If you're running from an enemy, you want to get in fast,” he pointed out.

“And so does the enemy.”

“They can want to,” Kalak said. “But you can disable that latch, or you could.”

The hallway was about twelve steps long, and had solid looking doors to the left and right. The muzzle of a cannon was pointing at them from the far end.

“I'd forgotten that,” Kalak said. “Another surprise for unwelcome visitors.”

“So every time you came home from podling school, you stared down the mouth of a loaded cannon?”

“Yes.”

“I hope it's not loaded now.”

“I expect it is,” Kalak said. “In case of predators.”

“As Mick would say, 'Gulp'.”

“What would he mean by that?”

“It's one of their fear reactions, to swallow what's in their mouths.”

“You're scared?”

“Not really, but... maybe.”

“Let me show you the house, Lana.” He turned to the left, “This used to be the village library.” Opening the door, he saw it still was, and indeed there was a young person reading a book. He looked up, “Can I help?”

“Just showing my friend around,” Kalak said.

“Oh. Urm, how did you get in?”

“The latch in the arrow slit still works,” Kalak said.

“Urm, pardon?”

“You pull on the ring in the arrow slit, and the door opens,” Lana said.

“How did you know that?” The youngster asked.

“I saw my nurse or my mother doing it every day when they brought me back from podling school, and when I was grown big enough I used it myself, and let my sisters in,” Kalak said.

“You weren't at the village meeting, I presume,” Lana said.

“Oh, is that where everyone went?” the youngster asked.

“Yes,”

“I'm just visiting so I guess no one told me. Anything interesting?”

“Depends if you're interested in village history, the wars, aliens and future opportunities to talk to them,” Lana said.

“The wars?”

“Yes.”

“I guess I should have been there. It's my research topic. Well, specifically, why this village. Why is it so important in history, well, not inherently important, but important people came from here or died here. And now why did the aliens choose to come here?”

“Have you heard of the last prophecy of Zah?” Lana asked.

“I have. One source says that Takan wrote it down which makes no sense, he was on the wrong side to hear it, and he would have been barely out of podling school, too.”

Lana smiled, “You certainly should have been at the meeting.”

“If you say so. Sorry, I should introduce myself, shouldn't I? My name is Reneg.”

“Let me introduce Academican Lana, who's recently resigned from the university safety office, I'm currently known as Kalak. Before that, I was known as Unf, before that... well, I had other names, but was podded with the name of as Takan, and yes, I witnessed the last prophecy of Zah. Lana can bear witness that I still don't respond well when there's disrespect. Politics was full of it, Astronomy less so, and full of things to be curious about, so I took up that instead. I'm particularly curious about aliens.”

“Without intending any disrespect... urm...” Reneg didn't finish his thought, but his eyes were flicking between the two.

“Kalak told the entire meeting his past,” Lana said, “mainly as a lesson about how believing lies and spreading them can cause wars. You may verify it with anyone who was there.”

“And you spoke also about your second head, academician?”

“That was the specific truth and lie I wanted to discuss,” Kalak said. “Some people might not accept the truth that Lana rescued the brother of the alien Magdalena, taught him and provided him with nourishment and released him with joy as soon as he showed he could think of any organisms as his own. There are many lies that might be told about it, but those would have bad consequences, for example that she withheld his freedom from him. I have in my time witnessed a few podling-buddings. I've never seen a podling so reluctant to leave his mother as Mick was, nor as argumentative about why he wouldn't accept more organisms from her.”

“The aliens are multicellular organisms,” Lana said, “and he was an adult. Learning to think as a collective organism was very difficult for him.”

“Where is he now?” Reneg asked.

“At old Yasfort. Probably talking to other aliens about what it was like being attached to me. Can I ask you where your politics lie, Reneg?”

“My politics?” he asked, surprised at the question. “Urm, I'm not much of political person.”

“But when there's a vote, would you tend to vote for progress, tradition or reason?”

“It depends on the vote, really. I guess that means I ought to vote for reason but I don't always agree with them.”

“No one ever said you had to,” Lana said. “Sorry, I'm just a bit nervous. Kalak has just assured me the porch-way was designed so you could stab attackers and that the cannon in the hallway is probably loaded, and while I don't think I'm guilty of podling withholding, I do miss him...”

“The accusation would be easily challenged, academician,” Reneg said, confidently.

“I have never heard of a successful appeal,” Kalak said.

“Successful appeals are not publicised. Publicising appeals would give those tempted to the crime some hope they might get away with it. You have a witness to your podling-budding, and evidently you were generous with your organisms. That is not the way of a withholder.”

“You speak with knowledge, Reneg.”

“I first studied law, and for two years worked in the relevant section. It was too distressing for me. It was distressing seeing the innocent mothers dragged from their families and needing to be relocated. It was distressing seeing the stunted podlings of the guilty, podded with barely an organism from their mothers. So now I study history, and meet history it seems. But I can tell you that a withholder does not withhold for the benefit or company of their podling, academician. A withholder withholds freedom because they hate their podling, and reject the thought of losing any organisms to an enemy.”

“Thank you, Reneg,” Lana said, “You are reassuring.”

“The charge you should be more concerned about is wrong-podding,” Reneg said. “But I do not believe that applies either.”

“What could that apply to, other than podding with someone dead?” Kalak asked, curious as usual.

“There have been cases of the deranged attempting to pod with lower collaborations. One even of a male who thinned his skin for a slime creature.”

“That's disgusting,” Lana said. “Not to mention stupid.”

“As I say, the deranged. Academician, in the circumstances I'll tell you that I saw records in my old department investigating your research with the predators. The conditions were not met then, I do not believe they would be met with your podling. You have not reproduced or attempted to reproduce with a lower animal.”

“Have I not? What is Mick if not my podling?” Lana asked, despondently.

“He's your podling. But where is the father of your podling? I assume you did not take only half his brain? Where is reproduction?”

“Nowhere,” Kalak said. “But while we consider possible crimes... Sorry, Lana, I'm letting curiosity run away with me and not considering your feelings.”

“I would also like to hear another opinion about all the things I might be accused of. Mick told me he would happily testify on my behalf if I'm accused of cannibalism, but that the accusations most likely to succeed against me were concealing an illegal immigrant, harbouring a spy, concealing alien artifacts and engaging in an unregistered and unsafe experiment.”

“You forgot attempted poisoning,” Kalak said.

“Attempted poisoning?” Reneg asked.

“A joke. I gave him some predator meat, he said it tasted far worse than it smelt.”

“It smells delicious,” Reneg said.

“Not to his nose.”

----------------------------------------

OLD YASFORT

“What did the predator meat taste like?” Sathie asked Mick.

“There's a faint smell of mildew when they cook it. When you bite it, it tastes mouldy. And not in the blue cheese sense either; in the gag, spit, wash your mouth out and don't swallow it sense. Their herd animal, however... that was tasty, a bit like steak in garlic and chilies.”

“But garlic is on the banned list from your grandmother.”

“I know. Probably why they don't like it. But Lana tells me it's not that adult herd-beast is actually poison, it just tastes like one.”

“So the predators eat the herd-beasts and people, the people eat the predators but not the herd-beasts. I don't get why the herd-beasts are kept.”

“Herd-beasts are basically their cow equivalent. They don't like the meat, but can eat it if they're too poor to buy anything else, but they love the cheese, and also young Herd-beasts are quite palatable to them. Slime creatures will eat young herd-beasts and predators but not the adults. The Herd-beasts therefore stay around slime creatures if they can, because being eaten by a slime creature is a predator's worst nightmare. There are hardly any predators on the plains because of them. Well, that relationship is sort of symbiotic too: when a predator attacks a herd, the herd animals will try to wound the pred, and then lead it to a patch of slime-creatures.”

“And the people don't wipe out the predators because...?”

“Too tasty, and they're not dumb beasts. Killing a talking beast is allowed, but only to defend yourself or others.”

“Hmm. Being a young heard-beast seems quite hazardous.”

“Yes. Survival rates are not great, but the adults give birth to four per breeding season, and confusingly there are two of those per year.”

“And the people have no desire to expand into the rest of the planet?”

“They're not very plentiful, Sathie. It's a bit like us, when we were in Atlantis. Birth rate keeps up with fatalities. Plus of course they haven't been around that long.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that their history as tool-users goes back about two thousand years as far as they can work out. They might have street lighting, but don't think twentieth century, think they're doing this for the first time round. A fall, but no instruction to fill the world; no Babel. No barbarian hoards. They had a civil war, but it never amounted to very much in terms of the total population. The lie behind it was discovered before the army got to the city; the Library wasn't destroyed. No collapse of this or that empire, they have been slipping a bit, but they've not collapsed yet.”

“How have they been slipping?” Sathie asked.

“Their scientists have been saying we'll have it all worked out soon, that they understand chemistry, physics only has a few minor oddities, like radio-activity, and there are some odd things in astronomy. Biology they've got a pretty good handle on, they think, too. So, they think they're running out of challenges. Also, they've got three possible reproductive strategies, only one of them actually involves genetic scrambling, and that's fallen out of favour, so the gene pool has been shrinking. They know that's not a great idea, but it's still happening. So, like I say, they're slipping, getting a bit decadent. Oh, and it's really hard to make them act surprised.”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean, in the past week or so, I've said 'Hi, I'm Mick the alien' to half a dozen people. Not one of them leapt out of their skins. Some of them frowned a bit, but really! Even Lana was a bit disappointed sometimes.”

“You're saying they don't get surprised?”

“Oh they do. But... I guess new information doesn't surprise them. They... process it and decide what to do. Relatively slowly. Maybe that's the key. Actually, I'm wrong.... when they've not formed an opinion, they don't get surprised. So Lana's mysterious second head being an alien, that wasn't a surprise, but when Lana's brother told his daughter's supposedly-secret boyfriend to go ahead and marry her quick, well, the kid'd been utterly convinced that the reaction would be more like 'over my dead body'... The youngster was still claiming surprise by the time he came and told Lana all about it.”

“Interesting.”

“Is it?”

“Yes, Mick, it is. And I'd love to stay...”

“Then do,” Mick suggested. “You have your choice of strange alien houses to choose from.”

“Why are they like this?”

“Probably because of how they make them. A door is a door, really, unless you've got forcefields and the like, making them round rather than rectangular is just a pain, so why bother? Flat floors, well, they're so much easier to keep clean. In the city they have tiles, often, or carpets. The walls... well, it's sort of glued together earth.”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“What do they glue it together with, do you know?”

“Slime creature slime is apparently the best glue. That's what the guy I bought the meat from was doing.”

“What?”

“Slime creatures won't eat the meat of an adult herd beast, but they'll happily gobble the squishy bits and the bones. So, you take an elderly herd-beast, butcher it for the meat, and spread some of what's left around and put the rest in a buried barrel and wait. When enough slime creatures are happily munching on the dead beastie, you push them in and nail the lid down on the barrel. I'm not sure if they then boil it down, or what, but I'm pretty sure the slime creature doesn't survive.”

“That's... just a bit yuck.”

“A slime creature is entirely without a brain or central nervous system, remember. And lime is processed dead sea creature skeletons, after all.”

“That's different,” Sathie said.

“Potion?” he challenged her.

“That's medicine,”

“Cucumber?”

“Can't get it here; your sister refused to bring any.”

“She always did think it was gross.”

“Whereas building a house out of a dead creature isn't?”

“They might not have used slime-creature slime,” Mick said.

“There's an alternative?”

“Yes. It might be person slime. My skin organisms are just telling me they remember how to make it.”

“What for?”

“I don't know. Sticking things together, I guess. Oh! And wound repair.”

“You... you can ask your skin organisms things?”

“Yes. All of my organisms communicate. I spent all that time embedded in Lana, but I didn't realise... I guess it was one of the barriers she put around me.”

“Barriers?”

“Yes. I learned her language and only then did she give me her language memory. I got her surface thoughts, her feelings, but I wasn't privy to her telling her legs which way to move, or that sort of thing. You realise part of why I was so in need of glucose yesterday, don't you?”

“No, why?”

“I wasn't telling my stomach to digest stuff. I just assumed it would, but it doesn't work like that. I really need to work out how to connect up my brain stem to operate an autonomous nervous system or something. But it's sort of nice, every individual skin organism that you touch is saying 'ooh, she's stroking me, that's so pleasant, will she do it again? Oooh! Lovely!'”

“Your skin organisms are falling in love with me?”

“Is that a problem?”

“No... it's just weird,” she said, and absent-mindedly scratched the back of her left knee. Again.

“Sathie, that's the third time in the last ten minutes you've scratched there.”

“It's itching.”

“What's the first rule about strange itches on strange planets?”

“Assume they are serious, look at them or let someone else.”

“I don't think you're a good enough contortionist to look properly, so will you allow me to check it for you? Or do I break my heart and hit your panic button?”

“OK, you get to have a look at my exquisite leg,” Sathie said, and started to roll up her trouser leg. The fabric was a little frayed-looking at the bottom, and as she rolled it up, the seam pulled apart. “What on Earth?”

“Nothing on Earth.” Mick said, “Nor Mars. Something's been eating your trousers. Any idea what they're made of?”

“Mixed fibres, I expect.”

“Scientist in me says we should cut and bag, beloved.” Mick said, apologetically, getting some sample bags and scissors.

“Forget the scissors. You've seen me in a swimsuit, I'm not wearing half-eaten trousers when I've no idea what is eating them or how fast it climbs.” She said, pulling off her shoes and socks before removing her trousers. The lining of the shoes was mostly gone, but the socks were intact. “Three samples for someone to analyse,” Sathie said, trying to hold her voice firm.

“And a fourth on the back of your knee,” Mick said. There was a small grey blob, there, about the size of a pea. Her skin around it was looking a bit red, but not very. “I think it's a slime-creature. It must have got into your shoe when you stepped into the grass yesterday.”

“But I went through decon last night!”

“But your shoes stayed outside, remember?”

“Stupid mistake to lose a leg for,” Sathie said, on the verge of tears.

“Who said you'd lose a leg?” Mick asked, scraping the mass into a bag with his finger nails. He'd imagined it would be sticky like glue, but it wasn't, it was more like mashed potato. His skin organisms told him it was a slime creature.

“Shouldn't you be using my knife or something.”

“Lana told me her organisms would expel or consume slime creature organisms, so I'm assuming I'm immune.”

“But if it's not a slime creature?”

“My skin organisms say it is. So, hopefully ninety-nine point I'm not sure how much percent is in the bag, and I propose to ask my skin organisms to pick off the rest, if that's all right with you?”

“How do you mean?”

“A bit like this,” Mick said. He placed his hand on Sathie's leg and asked his skin organisms to find slime-creature organisms. Could they eat them themselves? Yes, but not very well, it was better to let the ready-cells help to do that. His ready-cells reported that they were on their way, they liked being called on for action. They liked Sathie, she made nice pheromones. Would he be mating with her soon? How did that work?

“Not time yet for what?” Sathie asked, responding to the reply he thought.

“I was thinking to my ready-cells. Did you hear them?”

“No. What are they? And why red?”

“They're sort of general purpose genetic soldiers, ready for action. They said they were very happy to mount a search and destroy campaign on your skin, they like you, you make nice pheromones, and the bit I was reacting to was would we be mating soon?”

“You're thinking of sex while I'm getting eaten alive?”

“No, my ready-cells are apparently curious about how it works. They're very involved in mating here. Just so you know, there's now a sort of tree-shaped network of my skin organisms spreading over your skin, so please don't move. What does it feel like?”

“A bit ticklish. I presume I mustn't scratch.”

“That wouldn't be nice to my organisms when they're getting rid of every slime-creature organism they can find.”

“I want to be nice to your organisms. They're really going to get rid of every last one?”

“That's the aim. Hmm. I don't suppose you know what's supposed to be lurking in your skin pores, do you?”

“What do you mean, what's supposed to be in my skin pores?”

“They've found some other things that don't seem to be you and aren't slime creature.”

“I did total decon this morning. There shouldn't be anything in my skin pores.”

“OK, so for the moment those are on the collect and destroy list too.”

“You're really checking every single skin pore?”

“Would you like me to exclude some? Think nano-bots, Sathie. Skin organisms are a bit like nano-bots which specialise in keeping good things in and bad things out. Therefore they can recognise things, and they can also round them up and pass them on to the ready-cells which do the interrogation and extermination bit.”

“Urm, OK.”

“But so far there's just that one type of thing mentioned earlier in your pores, (which my ready cells say is definitely not Sathie D.N.A.) no slime creature organisms. There is an enzyme that my skin organisms say isn't very nice to most organisms. Slime creatures in other places though. Oooh, right. My skin organisms have just spotted something they describe as very angry latching on to a slime-creature organism. Bye-bye slime creature, I'm telling my skin organisms to leave that well alone.”

“Sensible. So, immune system one, slime creature zero?”

“I'm not sure about that. It might be slime creatures one thousand, immune system one; it was subcutaneous. OK, there are more angry guys around, so I guess my skin organisms ought to come home from there.”

“I don't want to get allergic to you.”

“Good plan,” he grinned. When all his skin organisms were home, he asked them to expel the slime creature organisms they'd collected. Another blob went into another bag, this one about the size of half a lentil. “Sample number five,” Mick said.

“What happened to your ready-cells killing them all?”

“They claim they got all the ones from on top of your skin. These were invading you through a scratch. So, my beloved Sathie, you are now going to take these samples up to biology and find out if anything the doctors have kills them, along with what enzyme it is that's in the predator's saliva. And whether my useful organism's bit of surgery was fully successful or not. I don't think any got to your blood-stream, but they were close.”

“How?”

“There was a scratch. That's how they get into predators, too.”

“Mick?” Sathie said, in a small voice.

“Yes?”

“Before I go, check more of me please. My foot, my whole leg. Both legs and my fingers. The thought of those things creeping over me, in me...”

“But you don't mind my organisms creeping all over you?”

“No, Mick.”

“OK. I'll start with your hand, shall I?”

“Please.”

Fifteen minutes later, Mick's organisms had removed a small slime creature colony — barely a score of organisms — growing under one of Sathie's finger nails, another micro-colony between her toes, and one slime creature organism inching its way up her leg above her knee, and after some arguments about not trusting the decon procedure she persuaded him to stop just using one hand and let more of his skin organisms check her over. There was just one more micro-slime creature colony, where thinking back she realised she'd touched her neck with her contaminated hand. As before, they alternated which of them was hiding their thoughts. Mick didn't really understand why Sathie didn't want to share thoughts, but that didn't matter. He caught enough of her thoughts as they swapped over to know she wasn't hiding disgust.

“That was a nice comprehensive hug, Mick. Thank you.”

“Have I told you I want marry you?”

“Several times. Each hour.”

“And did I hear you making a decision or two?”

“You know you did. Your organisms have quite possibly saved my life, and while I know they're not original you, I'm very pleased you've got them.”

“And you really want me to grow wings and fly?”

“Why not? Isn't it everyone's dream? I know I wouldn't mind you being able to lift me into the air one day.”

“Because... consciously managing legs is about all I feel up to at the moment.”

“So, get your autonomous nervous system in the act and practice. I expect I'm still going to be in medical quarantine for a while, so you've got time.”

“Probably. Unless you want to send up for clean clothes and stay here.”

“Should I? I thought you were the one campaigning for me to get a professional look.”

“I know I was. I am still. But once they decide to quarantine you...”

“You'd like to keep me company?”

“Yes.”

“You're obsessed, aren't you?”

“I've missed you, Sathie. I've missed having my legs and I've missed having you. Anything that takes you away....”

“Isn't going to be met very rationally. I know. I've missed you too; but I don't trust sudden powerful emotions. You might have noticed.”

“So that's why you're not saying much about how you feel?”

Sathie looked at the idiot she loved more than reason, “Idiot.”

“Pardon?” Mick asked totally confused.

“You're supposed to be a mind-reader.”

“Urm.”

“What haven't you done, Mick. Not once.”

“I must have asked how you feel about me.”

“Nope.”

“I must have.”

“I've been waiting. I'm sure I would have noticed.”

“Sorry Sathie. Will you tell me how you feel about me?”

“Not now,” Sathie said, smiling.

“What? Why not?”

“We need to call in that med-evac.”

“Then will you tell me?”

“We'll see,” Sathie said, grinning at her private joke. She called the lab. “Anyone listening up there?”

“Receiving,” It was a woman's voice, but not one Sathie recognised.

“Sathzakara here, planet-side. I have six samples of flesh- and clothes-eating slime creature, believed picked up yesterday and lurking in my footwear. They don't seem to be able to get through skin, but some got into a barely visible scratch of mine. Heather should check her shoes too.”

“Are you saying you've got an alien infection?” the voice sounded scared.

“I certainly did have. Mick's skin organisms have removed all they could find, and he does not believe any entered my blood stream. He also reports that my immune system has been activated, and that something unrecognised was in about one percent of my skin-pores, which makes me think total decon is not as effective as it's supposed to be.”

“Urm... I'm triggering a med-evac.”

“Good plan. If Heather has an infection, I highly recommend Mick's skin-organisms for a comprehensive search and destroy scan.”

“Urm... I don't know who Mick is.”

“Magdalena's brother? Man I'm going to marry? Crashed here six years ago? Rescued by one of the locals? Human head and shape-shifter body?” Sathie prompted.

“Oh! Yes, sorry. I'm just a bit stunned... You're sounding so unflustered at having a flesh-eating microbe infection.”

“Well, since Mick's organisms checked my every pore and did a complete sweep of my skin, I'm not feeling nearly as terrified as I was immediately after he found there was a colony tunneling under my skin.”

“You're exaggerating on the every pore, I assume.”

“Yes, a bit. He checked most of them though. We're assuming I'll need to be in quarantine.”

“Urm... Probably. Sorry, I'm a linguist, I'm here because most of the time it's somewhere guaranteed to be quiet.”

“Peace and quiet hard to find?”

“Certain people are extroverts. Certain other people are used to having their own room in which they can mutter to themselves. We have two assigned rooms. One is in use by the extroverts to work on the recordings. The other room has those of us working on the stone tablet.”

“Want to talk to the author?”

“Sorry, she's not here,” Mick said, “Lana wrote it. I just traced.”

“Can you read it?” Sathie asked.

“Not all of it. I've learned a bit.”

“Am I right that it's not an alphabet?” the voice asked.

“I wouldn't go that far. There's just a few short-cuts. And of course there's the three cases.”

“Three cases?”

“We have upper case and lower case, they have normal case, person case and verb case.”

“You're joking!”

“Egyptians wrote names specially, so do the locals. If you want a hint, remember people here are collaborations, and change shape, but they're still the same people.”

“You're talking about ornamented letter forms, aren't you?”

“Who me?” Mick asked, grinning.

“Did the post-script go in all of them?”

“Yes, but Lana signed her version, so it went more like 'p.s. hardly anyone talks to Mick.' which was true, but nice and ambiguous, it makes me sound like a hermit or something.”

“And the last word is your name?”

“Probably. Oh, look at the letter size for another clue. They don't do bold.”

“And they really distinguish 'ground' from 'earth'?”

“So do you. Compare the meaning of a house with only an 'earth floor', with one with only a 'ground floor'. If they dig up ground you get earth or sand. Naughty podlings can throw earth and sand, but not ground. They wouldn't plant stuff in earth or sand, it needs to be good earth or sand for that.”

“You said a word in there I didn't recognise.”

“'Podling'? A youngster resulting from two adults podding, but also the generic word for any non-adult. Not to be confused with a mixling who is the result of true genetic interchange, or a budling who is the result of one adult deciding make a chip off the old block. And Sathie's lift has arrived, by the sound of it.”

“Thank you!” the radio operator-stroke-linguist said.

“No problem. Thank you for answering Sathie's call,” Mick said.

“Mick say hi to Pete the Paramedic,” Sathie said.

“Hi!” Mick said, “Nice space-suit.”

“Where's the infection?” Pete asked.

“All in the sample bags, we hope.” Sathie said. “How much did the operator relay?”

“Total decon might not be total and you got infected by a flesh-eating microbe.”

“Sample four here was on Sathie's skin, removed by my fingernail. It was clustered around a scratch behind Sathie's knee. Sample five was in the scratch and tunnelling its way under her skin, removed by my skin organisms, who reported that a lot of angry somethings had turned up — I guess white blood-cells — and were munching the invaders. Some of the sample were busily ingesting those defenders when I got them out, though. Sample six was between her toes, and sample seven was trying to get under her helmet, I think. There were other micro-colonies but I didn't think it was worth trying to bag them.”

“So, what happened to them?”

“A snack for my hungry organisms.”

“So you think you actually got them all.”

“I hope I did. The battle with the immune system was close to blood vessels. I hope that Sathie's immune system can cope with the few I left them fighting.

It certainly looked like it, and I didn't want any of my skin organisms to get in the way of her immune response.”

“Can I have an arm for a blood sample? Thanks. You think these creatures survived total decon?”

“They were probably on or in my boots,” Sathie said as he swabbed Sathie's arm, “I walked in the known habitat of them last night, and didn't remember to decon my boots before putting them back on this morning. Something's eaten the lining and then it ate the stitching in my trousers before Mick pointed out that I was scratching the back of my knee.”

“A well-fed colony can double in two hours, did I hear?” Pete asked.

“That's what I was told, yes.” Mick agreed.

“And you've got about a half cubic centimeter of them here.” Pete said.

“Yes. And there's only been time for five generations since this morning, which means Sathie ought to have noticed something funny in her boot. So I wonder if there's something they really like in shoe lining. If it was /ten generations we'd be down to a cubic millimetre and it'd be unnoticeable.”

“Warm, damp environment?” Pete suggested.

“Maybe.”

“So why did I get a message about total decon not working?”

“Some things lurking in Sathie's skin pores, which my skin organisms didn't recognise.”

“Hmm. That's not good.”

“My thoughts exactly. Please look after Sathie, Pete.”

“I'll do my best, Mick,” Pete said.

“And if that's not enough, I'll make him talk to Lana,” Sathie added.

Mick, gazing at her face, noticed a small black lump running down the inside of her face-mask.

“Sathie, I think some got into your mask.”

Without hesitation, she ripped it off, and hugged him once more, her face pressed against his bare chest.

Mick clasped her to him, and sent his skin organisms into action once more, from both directions.

“Feel free to film this, Doctor.” Mick said. “Hopefully it'll be the last time anyone needs slime-creatures individually removed.”

The doctor, amazed at what he was seeing, started to film, and gave a commentary. “His skin organisms are flowing across her face in a fern-like pattern. I can see them encountering a small slime creature and beside her ear... I guess pulling it inside them. It's vanishing, anyway. The slime creatures seem to have been looking for orifices. The skin organisms are retreating from her ears, I guess they've finished. They've reached her eyes, and are searching around the edges.”

“Sathie?” Mick sounded serious.

“Yes?”

“Your ears are fine, and now mostly wax-free, but I've just caught one practically in your eye. Can you close your eyes please and keep them shut until I say?”

“You're planning to check my eyeballs?”

“Yes. And then into your tear ducts, if you'll permit me.”

“You've cleaned my ears and now you're going to make sure there aren't any in my tear ducts?” Sathie asked, amazed.

“If you don't mind.”

“Of course I don't mind, Mick. I love you.”

“The enzymes in her tears won't harm your organisms?” Pete asked.

“I don't think so. They're skin organisms, after all. Pretty hardy things. They say it's not a strong enough concentration to be any kind of problem for them. Do you feel anything, Sathie?”

“It's a bit strange, but nothing unpleasant.”

“I'm glad I'm checking; one was trying to get behind your eyeball. It wasn't very healthy though, so maybe it wasn't going to cause too much trouble. Right eye is clean, Sathie, including tear-duct.”

“And my left eye?”

“Thats the one that had the nasty. I've asked a ready-cell to double-check something.”

“What?”

“Probably nothing,” Mick said, “Oh, oops. OK, ready cells really don't like your tears. So, the something which is probably nothing is now going to the ready cell instead.”

“What is a ready cell?” Pete asked.

“They are... really confusing Mick at the moment.” Sathie said.

“They are fearless and curious surgeon-soldiers,” Mick said sadly. “And one has just died telling me about the virus that killed him. Your left eye is clean now Sathie, your scalp is clean, and I think I need to get a message to Lana. Doctor can you record something for me?”

“Of course.”

Mick spoke in Lana's language, “Lana, Sathie had a slime creature infection. I've checked her and I'm pretty sure she's OK now, but she's going to go up to the ship and eat lots of stuff we know is poison for organisms, just in case. While my skin organisms were checking her eye they found an unusual slime creature, which was spiky, but not anything they recognised. I asked a ready cell to find out what was wrong with it. I'm probably going to get this badly wrong, but what I think he communicated before he died was deadly, fast-spreading, a relative of the virus I had when you first met me, but changed, unstable, different ends on the spikes, but the same core. Expel the spiky with zing, fire, athlass and bite at the root. I think it was athlass, My brain organisms from you say that was the word, but I don't know it.

That was the command of my brave ready cell. And then the slime creature burst, and the organisms near, including him, started to became spiky. And my skin organisms obeyed his instruction.”

“That's the end of the message?” Pete asked.

“Yes. That's the end.”

“What is it, Mick?” Sathie asked.

“A virus, deadly to my organisms. It got a hundred skin organisms and the ready-cell investigating it. It was in a slime-creature organism which had been in your tear duct, I could have just expelled the slime creature, but I was curious.”

“But your organisms can produce more ready cells, can't they?” Sathie asked.

“I don't know, Sathie. I don't know, and I didn't think.”

“I'm sorry, Mick.”

“I'd had a cold, Sathie, a week before. That's the only virus I know anything about.”

“As far as I know, I don't have one, but yeah, there have been some coughs and sniffles around the lab. But now your organisms will recognise it?”

“Yes. But the organisms I've had from Lana are experts at this sort of thing. Most people's organisms aren't. When my ready-cells said deadly, I got the impression it could kill someone.”

“So that message needs to get to Lana immediately, yes?” Sathie said.

“Yes, please.”

“Pete, while you fly me up for what I presume is a nice boring time in quarantine, I'll get Maggie or whoever to deliver that message, OK?”

“Good plan.”

“Sathie, eat lots of onions and garlic, just in case.”

“Won't that make me poisonous to you?”

“I'd rather you were poisonous for a bit than turning into a slime creature. I mean, I didn't check all your sinuses, or down your throat, or...”

“Or various other places,” Sathie supplied. “Thank you Mick, for taking care of me. I'll call you when I've got through to Lana.”

“Thank you.”

“And Mick, you wanted to know how I feel about you? I love you. That hasn't noticeably changed at all, as far as I can tell. And right now I would be very happy to agree to marry you just as soon as I'm out of quarantine, unless you think that I'm too full of dangerous viruses. Whether by bed-time I'll have decided that I was being much too to silly and emotional in saying that sort of thing I really don't know.”

“Thank you for saying, Sathie “, Mick said, punctuating his sentence with a kiss. “Since you're not sure, why don't we decide on not deciding a wedding date for a while?”

“You don't mind?”

“No. Let's plan when we have some idea where we'll be and when. But if you're fairly certain you'll be happy to marry me one day, I'd be honoured if you'd wear this ring.”

“I'd be honoured to wear it. Thank you Mick.”