I'd filled eighty gigabytes of memory with two hours of highresolution video. No matter what else happened, what we'd photographed here tonight would make an incredible difference to the war effort. We'd seen things that no other human being had ever observed-and we'd made a record of them.
I expected the next hour to be even more interesting. If we survived.
That thought hovered oddly.
I knew that we were very close to death here-and it didn't matter.
I realized I couldn't be scared any more. I'd moved beyond fear. I'd passed into a kind of free-floating euphoria. It was the strangest feeling-I'd used up all my fear. All that was left was interest. I supposed I'd run out of adrenaline-that was probably the medical explanation; but it felt like the freedom of madness.
And I didn't mind.
It was all right to be crazy. It was the best thing to be. I didn't have to be responsible any more. I was tired of being responsible-I floated. I photographed the Chtorran worms, and floated above the land of fear.
The bunnydogs were gathering in front of the worm groups now. They were absolutely unafraid of the worms. The two species were obviously in partnership.
The question was ... which one was the dominant partner? The four groups of worms were arranged in a large arc in front of the chopper. Now, several of the bunnydogs hopped into the focus of that space and began stamping out a large circle, an arena several meters across. A cloud of pink dust rose around them as they moved. It glittered and sparkled in the air around them. They didn't act as if they noticed. They rabbit-thumped their big paddlefeet and pounded the powder into a hard-packed surface. They moved around and around the circle, spiraling out and then in again.
There were at least a dozen of them, and they went about their task with an almost grim determination. 'They were little round pink warriors trying to invent a war dance. As they continued, more and more of the bunnydogs entered the circle and joined the task-until all of them were there, determinedly stamping out an arena.
I glanced to the worms. They were paying very close attention to what was happening here. One by one, they were shifting to face forward. They moved up to the very edge of the circle, but did not enter it. Instead, they settled into positions of quiet readiness. They looked like giant red meat loafs; they folded their arms back and swiveled their eyes forward, and focused their attention on the stubby little bunnies in the circle.
They were waiting on the bunnydogs.
They were a monstrous tableau. Their large black eyes blinked rapidly against the spreading dust in the air. They watched dispassionately. If they had expressions, they were impossible to read.
Very quickly, the bunnydogs finished preparing their arena and stopped. As each one finished, he/she/it? moved to the center of the circle and waited. Finally, they were all of them gathered silently in the center in a loose jumble. For a moment, nothing liappened. The bunnydogs were still. The worms might have been statues. The dust hung in the air-a silent pink haze. Everything was frozen.
"Now, what-?"
"Shhh."
We waited-
The first movements were imperceptible. We saw the dust, not the motion-it rose around the bunnydogs in a fresh pink cloud. They were stamping their feet again-but this time it had a ritual quality. They were trembling. They were shivering and shuddering. And finally, they were moving-all as one now-turning slowly around and around among themselves.
The cluster began to expand. Still stamping, still turning, they began to move outward toward the edges of their circle; at the same time they began to expand the size of their movements. They brought their arms out from their bodies. They lifted their hands over their heads. They opened their mouths wide and a shrill keening rose from their throats.
They had the sweetest voices.
The keening went on and on-and then suddenly, one of the bunnydogs let loose a rapid, high-pitched series of yelps. The other bunnies froze for just an instant and
-then began to dance.
It was a wild and frenzied performance-an explosion of bright pink energy. The bunnydogs stamped the ground beneath their feet as hard as they could. The dust rose in thick billowing explosions, sparkling and churning around them. The bunnies whirled and pounded, jumped and bounced. They chittered and shrieked and whooped.
They flung their arms out wide and leapt into the air, screaming like sirens-they bounced like popcorn. Where one came down, five more leapt up. It was a chain reaction of giggling joyous energy. We could hear them growling like teddy bears and yelping like Indians.
There was no pattern to it that we could see. The dance was a celebration, an exuberant demonstration of enthusiasm and delight. I couldn't help myself, I could feel the grin spreading across my face. I glanced over at Lizard and she was smiling too. The bunnies were funny.
By now, they must have been out of control. They caromed off each other like ping-pong balls in a wind tunnel. The bunnies were shuddering and shaking and waggling their fat little butts like ecstatic puppies. I wanted to run out there and join them. I wondered if Lizard was feeling the same way. I glanced over at her.
"It's marvelous!" she said. "But what does it mean?"
"It looks like a wraggle."
"A-what?"
"A dance. A communication dance. That's how bees tell other bees where to find the tastiest flowers. Maybe that's what's happening here. Maybe this is how you control or communicate with worms-by dancing. Dr. Fletcher is going to want to see this."
But-
No, it didn't make sense.
This dance couldn't be just for the fun of it-not here. Not now. Now with all these worms watching.
There was something else going on here, something I couldn't even begin to understand-and I knew I should.
It felt too familiar.
But the connection refused to complete-it hovered annoyingly beyond the edge of recognition. I could feel the frustration growing like a knot in my chest.
The bunnydogs were whirling now, not leaping. They twirled and spun like little fat dervishes-like plump pink pigs. They bumped into each other, fell into the dust, sputtering and gobbling, then bounced back up into the smoke and kept on twirling. They looked like chipmunks trying to describe a tornado.
A communication dance. And then I realized-"Oh my God."
"What-?"
"I've seen this before," I said.
"What!"
I added quickly, "Not exactly this, but something enough like it-" I swallowed hard. "In the herd. In San Francisco. Dr. Fletcher took me. The herd members do a kind of-dance. It looks like this." I shook my head. "I don't know. Maybe it's a coincidence."
"Why does the herd dance?" Lizard asked.
"Dr. Fletcher thinks-that it has something to do with communication. Nonverbal communication."
Lizard didn't reply immediately. She was studying the bunnydogs again. They were still bouncing. Their energy seemed inexhaustible.
"How do you decode it?" she asked. "I don't know. I'm not a worm."
"You think the dance is for the worms?"
"Who else? Maybe they're telling the worms about us, about what they saw when they peeked in the windows. I don't know. Maybe-" I hesitated, then added, "I don't want to worry you with this thought, but-"
"Worry me," she said.
"Well-obviously, there's some kind of partnership here. And uh, it seems pretty obvious to me-by the shape of their muzzlesthat the bunnydogs are meat-eaters, or at least, omnivorous. Their mouths look like they're good for sucking too. Maybe they use the worms to kill for them. Maybe they're telling them right now that this is a picnic basket."
"Right," said Lizard. "Listen, if you have any more thoughts like that... you don't have to worry me."
Outside, the frenzy was ebbing now. The dance was slowing. One by one, the bunnies whirled into the center and collapsed exhaustedly into the dust. They fell on one another, rolling and tumbling. The dance was deflating into a big pile of pink fur. There was silence. The ever-present pink dust hung in the air.