Drowning World (23 page)

The slower they advanced, the more discouraged they became. Furthermore, despite repeated checks of the global positioning gear that was included with the survival packs they carried, neither Hasa nor Jemunu-jah was even sure they were still traveling in the right direction.

“We should have reached the village by now.” Hasa sat beneath the shade of an enormous spray of striped gray shelf fungi. Every time he shifted his backside, a small puff of spores rose prematurely into the air, only to be washed away as they were knocked down by the rain. A distant burst of uncommon thunder rolled through the varzea, and Jemunu-jah flinched involuntarily.

“I understand.” Masurathoo had folded himself into the darkest, driest corner of their temporary mycorrhizal refuge. “Forest spirits. There is most assuredly no need to be afraid.”

“I not afraid.” Jemunu-jah glared at the Deyzara. “Childhood stories are always with one.” He looked over at the human. “What about you, Hasa? You have no cubling fears of darkness and sky shouting?”

Hasa shrugged, staring moodily out at the downpour. “Natural phenomena never scared me. I've always found my own kind much more frightening. Especially when you're a kid.”

Though he found this line of inquiry insightful and interesting, something in the human's voice told Jemunu-jah it would be best not to pursue it, even under more climactically favorable circumstances. They sat in silence beneath their fungoid shelter, watching the rain.

By the morning of the next day the deluge had finally slackened, giving way to the more customary steady drizzle. As they were packing up their gear, wordless with fatigue, Hasa noticed a small fist-sized herbivore attacking a clump of mushroomlike basidiocarps growing on a fallen log just outside their resting place. The fruiting bodies were very distinctive, with handsome three-sided purple caps that shaded to dark red basidia underneath. Using two sets of blunt projecting teeth, the herbivore rose up on stumpy hind legs and began to chew into the thick body of the cap.

Protruding from the decaying wood close to the stem of the fruiting body were several jet-black tendrils. As the small herbivore gnawed deeper into the basidiocarp, one of these tendrils, shivering slightly, rose upward. Its tip quivering, it sprayed something in the direction of the plant eater. The intruder promptly shuddered, gave several violent spasms, leapt into the air, and landed on its side. In a moment, all ten legs had ceased kicking.

Interesting defense mechanism, Hasa mused as he fastened his service belt around his waist and prepared to don his rain cape. Interesting, but not surprising. The plant life of the Viisiiviisii had evolved hundreds of ways of defending itself, from protective mimicry, to concentrating toxins in leaves and fruiting bodies, to throwing caustic spines and other more active means of repulsing would-be browsers. There was nothing remarkable about the little drama he had just witnessed. The black tendrils would likely be defensive rhizomorphs, specialized bodies that in this instance were designed to defend the spore-holding basidiocarps. Both were part of the same largely hidden underground life-form.

Jemunu-jah was already dressed and ready to be on their way. Though visibly discouraged with their lack of progress, Masurathoo was not about to give up and lie down in the moss and muck. They were both waiting for him.

Well, he was ready, too. Picking up his rain cape, he gathered the folds around him preparatory to slipping it over his head and shoulders. At least the rain had let up, he reflected. Glancing down one last time, he happened to notice the protruding jaws of the dead herbivore. White mycelium were already probing the small, motionless body preparatory to entering the dead flesh and beginning their task of starting to decompose the small corpse. Frowning, he moved close and leaned low. There was something around the edges of the diminutive stilled jaws. Some kind of red stain. No, not red. Maroon. He had seen it before.

Lining the open mouths of the exterminated mokusinga.

“It is a good morning and the rain is light, sir.” Masurathoo's bulging eyes blinked in his direction. “We should travel while the conditions are favorable.”

“Just a minute.” Waving one hand in the direction of his impatient companions, Hasa bent lower still, bringing his face close to the unmoving little corpse. There was no mistaking the color or consistency of the residue that lined the dead herbivore's mouth like some kind of bizarre granular lipstick. Was it toxic on contact, he wondered, or did it have to be inhaled or swallowed? One thing he knew for sure: it had been ejected by the upright rhizomorph. That black tendril now lay flat on the ground alongside the stem of the one damaged purple-and-red fruiting body. Seepage was already beginning to cover and heal the gaping wound where the herbivore had been chewing. Curious, Hasa reached for it.

He felt something on his right leg, just above where the jungle boot met the fabric of his pants. Looking back and down, he saw half a dozen of the black tendrils touching his upper calf. Several were unmistakably pointed in his direction. Their tips, he could see clearly now, were hollow. Tubes designed and equipped for spraying lethal sticky maroon powder at any potential predator.

Slowly, very slowly, he withdrew his fingers from the vicinity of the damaged basidiocarp. As he did so, the black rhizomorphs straightened, the threatening tips pointing skyward instead of toward him. They did not, however, withdraw back into the rotting log from which they had emerged. Instead, they continued to feel his leg just below the knee.

“Come along, Hasa,” urged Masurathoo. “You are delaying our departure.”

Jemunu-jah was eyeing the human more intently. “What is going on, Hasa? What you looking at?”

“I've found something. Or it's found me. I'm not sure yet.”

“Found something?” The Sakuntala took a long nimble step toward where the human was starting to sit back down. “Found what?”

“I don't know.” He glanced quickly in the Sakuntala's direction before returning his attention to the busy rhizomorphs. “Maybe some of your forest spirits.” Keeping his movements slow and predictable, he sat down on the large log that had served as the center of their encampment. Rising hypnotically from the wood, more and more of the rhizomorphs emerged to inspect his body. Some of them were unusually thick, even by the standards of Fluvan fungal growths. A few were giants of their kind, as big around as his little finger.

Seeing what was happening, Jemunu-jah's pupils expanded and he started to reach for his gun. Hasa was quick to wave him off.

“Leave them alone! They're not hurting me. They're just—” It was hard to voice the words that seemed simultaneously appropriate and impossible. “—checking me out.” He indicated the dead herbivore. “They killed that small browser. Look at its mouth. It's the same stuff that killed the mokusinga.”

Keeping wary eyes on the swaying, probing rhizomorphs, Jemunu-jah knelt and Masurathoo folded himself to inspect the deceased herbivore.

“Never know pannula to do such a thing before,” Jemunu-jah finally commented.

“Different species, maybe,” was Hasa's response. “I've certainly never seen a macromycete quite like it.”

When Masurathoo looked up, both of his trunks were half-retracted. “Coincidence,” the Deyzara insisted. “You not saying, human, that we were deliberately saved from mokusinga by a fungus?”

“I
am
saying that we were saved by one. By this particular species.” Hasa sat quietly as tendrils now swayed back and forth in front of him like waltzing eels while dozens of others that had emerged from the rotting log continued to poke and prod his seated form. Their touch was incredibly gentle. “Whether it was deliberate or coincidental is what I don't know.” He chuckled. It was, Masurathoo noted, a sound most uncharacteristic of the human.

“Saved by a mushroom.” Hasa glanced back and up at Jemunu-jah. “Do the Sakuntala have a name for this type of growth?”

His lanky companion moved nearer. “Pannula. We do not eat them. They have bitter taste. They hardly ever encountered near towns.”

“Fond of their privacy, maybe.”

Masurathoo was following the human's line of reasoning, and he did not like it. “Permit me to inquire, Hasa, if you are claiming some sort of consciousness for this . . . this . . .
fungus
.”

As he did always, Hasa was clearly enjoying the Deyzara's discomfort. “I'm not claiming anything of the sort—yet. But consider: Something saved us from the mokusinga. These tendrils are inspecting me instead of trying to enter my body. Admittedly, that kind of work is usually done by mycelium and not rhizomorphs, but it's still evidence of some kind of restraint, be it directed by intelligence or instinct. And what about that feeling I've been having for days and days of us being watched?”

Pushing back the hood of his rain cape, Masurathoo stepped forward. “In this I fear most strongly that I must be at variance with you, sir. A fungus possesses neither intelligence nor instinct. Nor does it have anything to ‘watch' us, or anything else, with.”

“The Viisiiviisii is full of surprises, bug-eyes. Say it ‘perceives' rather than ‘sees.' ” As he spoke, several of the inky rhizomorphs had risen high enough to begin investigating his lips.

“Be careful.” Jemunu-jah's fingers itched to draw his weapon. “Remember the poisonous residue that killed mokusinga!”

“If this plant wanted me dead, it could already have slain me a dozen times over. Or it could have let the mokusinga do the job.” Inquisitive black tendrils touched his lips, felt of the soft flesh. They tickled. And the feeling of being observed, even in the absence of anything recognizable as eyes, was more compelling than ever.

Masurathoo's breathing trunk twitched. “Those may have been examples of similar but different species.” He gestured with a flexible arm. “They lie two days' trek behind us. This is a different gathering of growths, in an entirely new location.” He indicated the attractive purple-reddish fruiting bodies that sprouted from dead wood nearby. “These are other pannula. Surely you are not claiming an ability for different individual growths to communicate over distance in
addition
to some kind of fungal consciousness?”

“I wonder if different growths
are
involved.”

As Hasa spoke, two of the questing tendrils took the opportunity to slip inside his open mouth. Jemunu-jah tensed. The rhizomorphs investigated for a few seconds, tickling Hasa's palate, tongue, and the insides of his cheeks before withdrawing. Finished their exploration, he wondered, or found the human oral environment not to their liking?

“Please not to take offense, sir, but you are not making any sense.”

Fascinated, Hasa raised his right hand and spread his fingers wide. Questing rhizomorphs immediately rose to match the gesture, one or two tendrils making contact with each of his elevated fingertips.

“To rise this far above the wood it's emerging from,” he said as he moved his hand slowly from side to side, “this easily and effectively, these rhizomorphs must be supported by a much larger mass buried deep within the host tree or, more likely, in the ground itself.”

Jemunu-jah gestured downward. “There no ground here, Hasa. Ground here is many kel below top of the water. Pannula lives in trees and deadwood, not ground. Leastways, all pannula I know.”

The human replied while continuing to play touchy-feely with the inquiring rhizomorphs. Nearby, ghostly white mycelium had begun to infiltrate the body of the dead herbivore.

“How can you be so sure about that, Jemunu-jah? Have your people ever dug one up? Not part of one, but a whole one, to see how far the spawn and the hyphae actually extend?”

The Sakuntala's snout twitched. “Why would anyone want to do such a thing? All pannula taste bad. Probably this kind also. Stringy stuff in trees and wood probably tastes worse. Be a big waste of time and energy.”

Hasa nodded. Opposite him, black tendrils bobbed in mime. “Probably just as well no one ever tried it with one of these. The pannula in question might have taken offense.” He was studying the weaving tendrils intently. “We've already seen what it can do when it takes offense.”

Masurathoo badly wanted to sit down and rest but could not quite bring himself to do so. The image of sharp, piercing white filaments painlessly penetrating his backside and then rapidly expanding to infest and rot his entire body from the inside out was one he could not shake.

“I daresay that you are trying to make a point, Hasa, but I fear to confess that it continues to escape me.”

“Locating, identifying, and finding uses for these kinds of growths are my business, finger-face. I'm thinking that maybe these pannula are analogous to similar fungal organisms on Earth. Very large organisms. In fact, they're the biggest living things on the home world of my species.”

Jemunu-jah eyed the nodding strands with new respect. “How big?”

“Big enough so that these rhizomorphs and mycelium could all be part of a single organism.” He glanced at the dubious Deyzara. “This here wouldn't have to ‘communicate' with those that killed the mokusinga if they were all part of the same organism. Big enough so that these basidiocarps,” and he indicated the tripartite fruiting bodies nearby, “and the ones we saw at the place where we were attacked by the mokusinga could all be reproductive bodies sprouting from the same individual source.”

The Sakuntala mentally retraced the ground they had covered during the past couple of days. It was not great, but it was substantial. “That very difficult to believe, Hasa.”

“I've studied organisms like this. With all due respect to the accumulated practical knowledge of the Sakuntala, your kind haven't.” He turned thoughtful. “One variety is called
Armillaria ostoyae
. It lives a more restricted life than your pannula, living mostly on tree roots. For a long time, my kind didn't recognize it for what it was because by far the bulk of it existed below ground. It took a long time for people to understand that the fruiting bodies and mycelium they were seeing were all part of a single gigantic life-form. One
Armillaria
was found that covered five square kilometers.”