“There!” hissed Napoo, grabbing Jeffries’ arm and pointing. Through brief gaps in the canopy, Jeffries caught sight of a huge mound-like edifice. It must have been hundreds of feet high. Its colour was the same dark cinnamon upon which the caterpillar beasts walked, flecks of mica bound into its walls reflecting the sunlight in a myriad places and directions. Jeffries realised that this must have been what had seen from the aeroplane.
Jeffries’ heart sank. He had been hoping for something more… civilised, that would belittle everything the British Empire had to offer. Nevertheless, the brief glimpse afforded him by the aeroplane couldn’t do justice to the enormous scale of the structure. This was a feat of engineering on a par with that of the ancient pyramids of Egypt. Its sheer height and bulk dwarfed many of the great and noble British Institutions, although it could not match them for grandeur.
As they neared the edifice, the trees grew thinner and the path along which they travelled grew wider. They left the forest and entered a huge, well-managed clearing that spread for hundreds of yards around the earthen edifice. The sight drew gasps and groans of despair from the others in marked contrast to the seemingly excited clicks and chittering from the Chatts alongside them. Huge asymmetrical buttresses rose up the sides of the tower to varying heights as if shoring up the earthen mound. Small balconies could be seen dotted about the shell of the edifice, each occupied by an insect.
As the great caterpillar beasts undulated across the clearing, Jeffries noticed lines of other arthropods filing from various forest paths towards apertures in the base of the mound. They were of a different genus to their captors, less well armoured with smaller heads and shorter antennae. As they approached, Jeffries saw that men — Urmen — were among their number, carrying baskets or dragging litters, transporting food and materials to the edifice under the watchful eyes of the accompanying Khungarrii.
In the cradle ahead of him, Jeffries could hear those damn women wailing at the sight. And from behind came the throttled voice of the Padre, “Oh Lord, we are delivered into bondage.”
As they passed into the shadow of the edifice, a large archway gaped before them and they entered into a great cathedral-like space. There the larval beasts were drawn to a halt against raised jetties, berthed there like boats so that the passengers, guards and captives alike might make an efficacious exit from the cradles. They were then led up sloping passages, before coming to a circular portal.
The door seemed to be made of tough, fibrous plant material, covered with sharp, close-set thorns. One of the Chatts hissed at the door, expelling a spray from its mouth. The portal recoiled from the chemical mist, dilating open. Once the last man was ushered through, the door sealed behind him. Twenty-five soldiers, Napoo and three nurses found themselves incarcerated in a circular cell.
Jeffries looked around their gaol. He noted that this side of the door was also bristling with close set thorns. Dim light filtered down from small windows high in the wall of the chamber. Also high up in the wall was a hole, from which could be heard a profusion of clicks and pops and from which proceeded a draught of air. A ventilation system, Jeffries thought. There was another source of light coming from a small hole in the floor at the far side of the room. Jeffries, suspecting what it was, peered over it gingerly. Through the hole, he could see the side of the tower plunging vertiginously away. The hole was a garderobe of sorts, a primitive toilet. Well, that was something, he supposed. He looked around the rest of the chamber. In places, the rough cinnamon-coloured walls were shiny, having been worn smooth over time by previous occupants, presumably. Captain Grantham sat against the wall, all pretence gone now, his authority all but evaporated. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he kept muttering. Jeffries, on the other hand, felt entirely calm and was quite content to wait.
He waited some hours and amused himself watching a group of Tommies commandeer one of the nurse’s white aprons and push it down out of the garderobe, to hang like a signal flag for any potential rescuers to see.
It was several hours before the membranous plant-like door dilated open again. A few of the Tommies, who had been muttering together, suddenly rushed the aperture; no doubt in the hope of escape.
“No!” cried Napoo, but it was too late. Crackling blue bolts of electrical energy met them as two Khungarrii Scentirrii discharged their lances. The soldiers jerked spasmodically for a moment before the light died and they crumpled to the floor. One of the nurses let out a scream, though the involuntary twitching of the fallen bodies showed that they were still alive. The two guards then stood to either side of the doorway, holding their lances.
Three more arthropod creatures entered the chamber. One was tall and slender and wore a light cloak with a cowl over its head, covering its antenna. Its chitin was smooth and off-white, like bone china. Other than its eyes, maw and antennae, the dermal bone of its head was a featureless ovoid. Beneath the cloak, the creature wore a long length of tasselled white cloth wrapped over its right shoulder and down across its thorax, through which stunted, vestigial middle limbs tipped with single claws protruded.
Hunched with subservience, the second Chatt was of a similar build. It wore no cloak but it did wear the same manner of cloth, though it had fewer tassels. Was that a rank thing? Jeffries realised its antennae were broken off, leaving little more than stumps.
The third Chatt was more thickly built and heavily armoured than its companions, its faceplate flatter and broader with a suggestion of horns or antler nubs. It was similar in build and stature to the Khungarrii warriors behind it but for the surcoat of scarlet cloth it wore over its heavily armoured form, which did little to hide the bony protuberances rising from its armour.
The cloth they wore seemed to be some form of silk, though whether it was spun by the creatures themselves or farmed from another species Jeffries could not fathom; the garments served no practical purpose that he could see, they were probably more ceremonial, like ecclesiastical vestments, he surmised.
“Who among you speaks for your herd?” the tall, cowled one rasped, the clicking of its mandibles punctuating its dialogue. It spoke with a breathless, hissing vocalisation as if, like a cancer patient struggling to communicate via oesophageal speech, it was forcing itself to use organs for purposes other than for which they had evolved. All eyes turned warily towards Captain Grantham. He looked up with red-rimmed eyes, hardly seeming to comprehend what was happening. Jeffries watched the man struggle briefly with his conscience before remaining seated, stifling sobs. He felt no pity for the broken man. He was half-tempted to stand himself, but he had no idea of the Chatts’ intentions. They could merely want to kill the leader. He would wait and see.
After a moment Padre Rand stood and, faltering, cleared his throat.
“I am. These people are under my protection,” said the chaplain, his voice cracking as he held aloft his battered leather Bible, “and that of our Lord God, who watches over us.”
Jeffries gave the man kudos for that. That was one thing you could say about the Catholic chaplains. They had guts, going up to the Front Line with only a copy of the Bible and their faith for protection. That was what endeared them to the men generally, that and the fact that many of them came from the lower classes and weren’t all well-to-do la-de-da-types, like the C of E chaplains.
There was a brief discussion among the Chatts, with some animated waving of antennae, before they turned back to address the Padre.
However, Jeffries did not want this man, this mewling milksop of a shepherd, to speak for him, to assume authority over him. Whatever secrets and confidences these creatures had to share, they were his. He would not give up now. Seeing that it was safe, at least for now, Jeffries rose to his feet and coughed politely. “Thank you, there’s no need, Padre,” he said. He turned to the Chatts. “I’m next in command.”