that perhaps the hive queens could communicate with them mentally, control them like any other formics. Only they were still different enough that they didn't completely bond with the queen — so when this world's hive queen died, the gold bugs didn't.
Or maybe they already had a species they used for menial tasks, one that had a weak mental bond with the hive queens, and that's what they interbred with the parasitic worms. Those incredible teeth that could burrow right through leather, cloth, skin, and bone. But sentient, or nearly so. It could still be ruled by the hive queen's mind.
Or my mind. Did it come back at my summoning? Or was it simply taking the easy food first?
By now the larva had plunged down onto each of the bits of food and devoured them — along with a thin layer of the stone floor at each spot. The thing was hungry.
Sel formed a picture in his mind — a complicated one now. A picture of Sel and Po bringing food into the tunnel. Feeding the larva. He pictured himself and Po going in and out of the cave, bringing food. Lots of food. Leaves. Grain. Fruit. Small animals.
The larva came toward him, but then circled around him. Writhed around his legs. Like a constrictor? Did it have that snakelike pattern, too?
No. It didn't get tighter. It was more like a cat.
Then it pushed from behind. Nudging him toward the tunnel.
Sel obeyed. The thing understood. There was rudimentary communication going on.
Sel hurried to the tunnel, then knelt and sat and started to try to slide along as he had coming in.
The larve slid past him in the tunnel and then stopped. Waiting.
The image came into his mind, just a flash of it: Sel holding on to the larva.
Sel took hold of the creature's dry, articulated surface, and it began moving forward again. It was carefully not thrashing him against the wall, though he scraped now and then. It hurt and probably drew blood, but none of his bones broke and none of the lacerations were deep. Perhaps it was bred to give rides like this to formics when they were still alive. It wouldn't have bothered a formic to bash against the walls a little.
The larva stopped. But now Sel could see the light of day. So could the larva. It didn't go out there; it shied from the light and backed down the tunnel past Sel.
When Sel emerged into the daylight and stood up, Po ran to him and hugged him. 'It didn't eat you!'
'No, it gave me a ride,' he said.
Po wasn't sure how to make sense of this.
'All our food,' said Sel. 'I promised we'd feed it.'
Po didn't argue. He ran to the pack and started handing food to Sel, who gathered it into a basket made by holding his shirt out in front of him. 'Enough for the moment,' said Sel.
In a few moments, he had his shirt off and stuffed with food. Then he started laboriously down the tunnel again. In moments the larva was there again, coiling around him. Sel opened the shirt and dropped the food. The larva began eating ravenously. Sel was still close enough to the entrance that he could squat-walk out again.
'We'll need more food,' said Sel.
'What's food to the larva?' asked Po. 'Grass? Bushes?'
'It ate the vegetables from my lunch pack.'
'There's not going to be anything edible growing around here.'
'Not edible to us,' said Sel. 'But if I'm right, this thing is half native to this world, and it can probably metabolize the local vegetation.'
If there was one thing they knew how to do, it was identify the local flora. Soon they were shuttling shirtfuls of tuberous vegetables down the tunnel. They took turns carrying food to the larva.
Morgan had gone inside the shuttle; Ender had given his orders and the ship's crew was unloading the shuttle while the locals loaded up the skimmers and transported the cargo to the right places. Other people knew better than Ender how to direct and carry out these tasks, so he left them to it while Ix took him to the xeno station where Sel's ansible was waiting, amid the other communications equipment. 'I just need to transmit a quick message back to Eros,' Ender said.
While he was still composing it, the voice of young Po Tolo came in on the radio.
'No, I'm not your father,' said Ender. 'I'll call him.'
He didn't have to — Ix had heard his voice, probably heard Po's voice on the radio, and he was there in a moment. Ender quickly finished his message while catching the gist of Ix's conversation with his son. Ender transmitted to Graff and Wuri just as Ix said, 'We'll be there quicker than you can guess.'
Ix turned to Ender. 'We need to take a skimmer to Sel and Po. They're out of supplies.'
Ender couldn't believe Sel would plan so badly that he could do anything as foolish as that. But before he could say anything, Ix went on.
'They've found a creature,' said Ix. 'At least a hybrid. Cave dweller. Six legs in the adult form. Huge wormlike larva. It can chew rock, but it doesn't metabolize it. It was starving, so they gave it all their food.'
'He's such a generous man,' said Ender.
'The skimmer can travel that far? Two hundred clicks, over uneven terrain?'
'Easily,' said Ender. 'It charges by solar, but the normal range is five hundred kilometers without a pause for recharge.'
'I'm very glad you got here when you did.'
'Not a coincidence,' said Ender. 'Sel left because I was coming, remember?'
'But he didn't need to,' said Ix.
'I know. But as I said, he's a generous man.'
They had two of the skimmers loaded with food in about twenty minutes, and along with experienced marines to pilot the things, Ender brought along Ix himself. They rode together on the more lightly loaded of the two.
Too bad none of the new xenos had been wakened yet — they would have killed for a chance to be along for the ride. But all in good time.
On the way, Ix explained to Ender as much as he had gleaned from talking to his son. 'Po didn't want to leap to conclusions — he's a cautious boy — but from what he says, Sel thinks it's some kind of genetic merge between a formicoid species and a local worm — conceivably even the bloodworm that tried to wipe out our first generation.'
'The one you take injections to control?'
'We have better methods now,' said Ix. 'Preventive rather than maintenance. They can't take hold. The original problem was that we were already deeply infected before we knew the problem existed — they had to be rooted out. But my generation never got the infection. You won't either. You'll see.'
'Define 'formicoid, ' said Ender.
'Look, I'm not sure myself, Po and I didn't talk long. But. my guess is that he meant 'formicoid' the way we'd say 'mammalian' or even 'chordate, rather than 'humanoid.»
Ender looked a little disappointed. 'You've got to understand, I'm a little obsessed with the formics. My old enemy, you know? Anything that might bring me closer to understanding them.»
Ix said nothing. Either he understood or he didn't. Either way, what he cared about was that both his son and his mentor were out there, without food and with a vastly important scientific discovery that would make waves on Earth and in all the colonies.
With only one satellite in the sky so far — the original transport ship — there was no way to triangulate a global positioning system. That would come later, when Morgan's people placed their network of geosyncs into orbit. For now, they depended entirely on the maps that had been generated before they landed, and Po's description of the route they would need to follow. Ender was impressed that the kid's instructions were perfect. Not a missed landmark, not a wrong turn. No delays at all.
Even proceeding cautiously, they made good time. They were there five hours after the call from Po, and it was still daylight, though it wouldn't be for much longer. As they skimmed into the valley with all its cave entrances, Ender saw with some amusement that the young man waving to them was no more than a year or two older than he was. Why had he been surprised that Po could do a good, reliable job? Hadn't Ender himself been doing a man's job for years?
