Journey to the Heart of Luna - Andy Frankham-Allen [49]
Platt and Miller had returned, carrying in their hands grey fungus. At the sight of it, Annabelle let out a groan. Bedford looked at her enquiringly, and she forced a smile. “Dinner is served, Lieutenant.”
“Capital!” Bedford said and got to his feet and clambered across the cavern to give Platt a hand down.
Annabelle did not wish to contradict him, he seemed so happy at the prospect of trying the lunar fungus. Perhaps he liked the taste of sour milk.
2.
“LUNAR BATS?”
Now Bedford had heard it all. He had tried some strange things that were considered food, but bats had never been on any menu he had sampled.
“According to my uncle, when burned to a crisp they taste like pork,” Miss Annabelle said. “Which, I think it is fair to say, is better than sour milk.”
“She has a point there, sir,” Platt interjected with a laugh.
Bedford ignored Platt’s lack of decorum for the moment. It did not seem to matter a great deal, since the four of them were sitting in a cave, with giant ants nearby, and just for now rank was unimportant. Soon they would be heading into the heart of the Russian camp, and it was good that his men, all two of them, understood that their commanding officer respected them. Even Miller. Discipline was one thing, but respect counted for a lot more when entering behind enemy lines. His methods may have been different to those of Captain Folkard, but they at least agreed on having the respect of the men under their command. Besides which, they had lost several men already and were thus even more dependent on each other for their continued safety.
“She has at that,” Bedford said, chewing once more on the crunchy fungus. “Still, it will do in a pinch and I have tasted much worse.”
Miller, who had tried very little of the fungus, was looking around the small cavern at the Selenites as they went about their business. They were scuttling from one hive to the next, occasionally looking at the humans. None of them moved in for any closer inspection, but that they were curious was obvious. “Sir, are we really going to get help from these ants?”
“Well, that is the rub, Mister Miller. What do you think, Miss Annabelle?”
This was the compromise. She had insisted on being called Annabelle, but as there was absolutely no likelihood of that happening Bedford had decided he could bend as far as “Miss Annabelle”; considering her age he did not think that breeched propriety too much.
“I do not know for certain,” she said, “but like I said before the Selenites are not fighters. However I have discovered that when threatened they are fiercely protective of their colonies.”
“Then, perhaps we can…”
Bedford was interrupted by the arrival of a small group of Selenites. At their head was a copper-coloured one, slightly bigger than the rest. Miss Annabelle scrambled to her feet in the most un-ladylike manner Bedford had ever seen. He covered his mouth with his hand and smiled. If only women were allowed to serve in the Navy.
“K’chuk! It is good to…” Miss Annabelle stopped inches away from the Selenite, a frown creasing her brow. “You are not K’chuk.”
“I K’ovib. I bring you to Q’theletockus. Follow.” K’ovib turned and walked the way he came. The other Selenites remained, waiting for the humans to follow.
“A problem, Miss Annabelle?” Bedford asked once he had joined her.
“Possibly. K’ovib is a retainer of knowledge, an enhanced Selenite, a sort of elder of the colonies. K’chuk led me to believe that a colony is run by either a queen or a retainer, not both.”
Bedford pursed his lips together. “Clearly something has changed, then.”
3.
FOLKARD’S TEAM came to an abrupt halt. They had ventured deeper into the tunnels, led by K’chuk. Nathanial had, through conversing with K’chuk, been able to ascertain