(Originally published at https://www.journeymouse.net/ on 18th April 2018)
The caterpillar world below resolved into something Françoise could recognise through the transparent floor of the elevator car. Well, recognise as alien. It was a jungle but the plant shapes weren't that of her grandparents home, where she had last experienced humidity and jungle. Their buildings, too, were not quite right. All grey and misshapen, badly proportioned, inhuman. Recognisably high-rise constructions but designed for caterpillar rather than human proportions.
In the distance, away from the port and city of Zygo, there were signs of combat. Scorched earth from earlier combat, a handful of explosions from current fighting, dark stains that suggested the soldiers of the two enemies - ants and damsels - were amassing for future fire.
There must be stories to tell to the people back on Earth that revolved around more than alien combatant deaths in a far away jungle. War stories always sold so they were a good start to a career and might get her published widely enough on Earth and the Stations to bring her more money. That and finding the meatier stories that must exist out there beyond Zygo, those that had value because they weren't about two distant bug species duking it out as they must have done for millennia, things that made these two species human and relatable.
#
"Nguyen?" a woman called out.
She was hard to miss, if only because she was the only other human at the port. She looked more comfortable than Françoise but only in a way that suggested she was used to the sheen of sweat on her skin and the grey hair curling tightly with humidity. The large caterpillars, the equally large damsels with their carefully folded wings and the human-scale ants of various castes swirled around the two humans, were intent on their own business and definitely sweat free.
If the ants and the damsels had been at war for so long, how could they stand to live so closely together in the caterpillar city of Zygo? Maybe it was something to do with the ants having castes, with only soldiers being the ones to fight and only the distant royals being the ones to make decisions about war and peace. It was unlikely there was a relatable story, juicy or otherwise, in it.
"Françoise Nguyen?" the woman called again.
Françoise looked at the organiser on her wrist. There was nothing about being met at the port. Was it safe to acknowledge the other woman just because she was another human being? For a moment, Françoise held the straps of her duffel so tightly, she white knuckled.
"Yes?"
"I'm Hope Michuki. You can call me Michuki," the other woman said in English.
Françoise chewed her lip. That had been the name on all the documentation, along with the title of "Office Manager". "I didn't realise I would be met."
"I didn't realise I'd have time." The smile was wide and white-toothed, the laughter warm and comfortable. "I'm sorry. I should have let you know I could make it."
A beep that made Michuki frown. She touched her own organiser and spoke, answering some conversation. "Kvalen? Yes. Have the packet on my desk for tomorrow morning and I'll see it gets sent on to the Oslo office." Michuki rubbed her temples and looked at Françoise. "Well?"
"It's okay. I can manage."
Michuki laughed again. "Yes, but it'll be easier if you let me help."
Françoise looked around. In this place so far away from home with most of the galaxy between here and what was familiar, help would be nice.
#
"Here," said Michuki. "Get in this one with me."
Françoise looked at the travel pod - a grey ball of gridwork holding a solid grey ball inside. Solid except for the open mouth of the door. "It's designed for one."
"One cat, yes. You can fit five of us in the same space."
More lip chewing from Françoise. "Cat? You mean caterpillars?"
"Yes. And it's fine." Michuki walked on to the tongue of the pod, as if to prove her words. "It's perfectly safe, Nguyen."
With a cautious look around to see if anyone else had spotted them and was frowning on this potential faux pas, Françoise joined Michuki on the ramp. The two of them passed through the doorway and a flick of Michuki's hands had the door closing, sealing them in. Françoise took a deep breath and concentrated on the pod screens' view of outside.
"Take a seat," said Michuki.
The floor was soft and cushioned. There were no seats.
"Where?"
A smile. "The floor."
Muchiki waved her hands again, the gestures reminiscent of the caterpillars' gill-antennae and something Françoise could probably decode using the guide book on her organiser. There was something that felt familiar about the shapes but Françoise was too overwhelmed to place it.
The screens showed movement as they began to roll but nothing moved inside the pod. This was more than she would have expected of a species whose planet was being occupied by two greater powers. Could this be part of the story she was looking for?
"I don't understand," she said.
Michuki raised her eyebrows. "About how it works? Neither do I. But we don't need to."
"No," said Françoise. "How caterpillars can do all this and yet still be unable to take control of their own planet. How come there are no species but ants, damsels and us come here."
"Oh," said Michuki. "That. The other species are just too sane to walk into a never ending war zone. Humans are always curious about distant lands, and the ants and the damsels are too concerned with territory."
Well, some of them were more curious than others. There weren't exactly hours of news dedicated to what happened between the two bug species in their war. Looking into caterpillar life might change that, at least long enough to make a name.
"But why do the caterpillars let two foreign powers dictate to them? If they just organised-"
"A third force? It's been done. On other planets, at least. Rarely works."
#
It was almost a relief when Michuki left Françoise in the grey, not-quite stucco apartment. Barely bigger than the travel pod, the straight-edged human furniture and appliances looked totally out of place in what was essentially a cavity in a sand pile. The polite term was probably "organic". It certainly wasn't "comfortable".
The next morning, when Françoise woke in the absolute, cloying dark of an unfamiliar enclosed space, she struggled to find the switches for the viewing screens, the air conditioning, anything.
"It's okay," she told herself through a tightening throat. "Everything's fine."
Aside from her gasping voice, there was total silence in the darkness. The caterpillars had apparently perfected soundproofing. That may have been a necessity considering how close the ant-damsel war got to their settlements.
"It's fine," she repeated.
A click and there was light and scenery from the viewing screens. She was tempted to check the file space for recordings of Earth to ease her feelings of strangeness. Even footage of her grandparents' old country would have done, despite how strange it had always seemed to her when she was there.
"Everything's fine," she said to the false jungle.
The leaves waved back at her.
Another click got the air conditioning back on. The sound it made was reminiscent of wind through leaves. It must have been on a timer and turned off in the night. Maybe caterpillars needed completely still, stale air to sleep. Maybe they liked the sights and sounds of the jungle despite their grey urban buildings with their small apartments and their individual travel pods.
This was like exile and it was hard to believe she'd chosen it. This was no better than being jobless on Earth or in the Stations. She should have done more research but so little information made it back to Earth. The guide book was too slim to be of much use. Maybe adding to it might actually get those much needed column inches under her byline.
After a few moments staring at the electronic view, Françoise went to make coffee with the supplies that Michuki had bought and put away before meeting Françoise at the port.
#
Françoise left the apartment building clutching the travel mug she'd brought from Earth. The coffee it held wasn't the real deal but it was hot and, maybe, had caffeine in it.
"Ooof! Sorry!"
She looked up and blinked. The caterpillar looked back and waggled its antenna-gills.
"Sorry," Françoise said again.
She set down her mug on the ground and tapped at her organiser. The guide book gave the hand signs that equated to what she needed to say.
"Sorry," she signed and said slowly. "I don't understand."
The antenna-gills fluttered. There was a squeak that sounded like the cutest animal in the universe sneezing as mandibles worked. Then a few more.
Though the signs were surprisingly similar to the Central Damsel language Françoise had picked up in university, she still paged through the guide. Antenna-gills accentuated differently to antenna and three-fingered hands. Human hands had difficulty with either school of sign language.
"I don't think those words are in here," she said when she got to the end. Not that it had told her how to sign that, either. She tried a little humanised Central Damsel.
The caterpillar fluttered its antenna-gills some more - at least two of the signs were recognisable as "rude" and "stupid" - and slid off towards a transport pod, its little legs moving with both precision and speed.
"Wait, please," Françoise said. "I wanted to ask you about -"
#
"Are there any caterpillar courses?" she asked Michuki. "For the local language, at least?"
The office manager looked up from her desk, the angled screen projecting light on the red-brown skin, giving it a sickly green tint. "I'm not sure there are enough humans on this rock to make it worthwhile. I'll see what we can come up with. Once I've read Kvalen's latest through."
"Oh."
Michuki's focus on her sharpened.
"I didn't know you would be reading pieces through before they were sent home," Françoise said.
"I'm not. I've already sent it through the office connection. It's gone. I just thought I'd give in to curiosity."
Michuki's finger trailed across her desk and her attention drifted back to the words and pictures. Françoise looked around at the office, a slice of home with straight-edged walls and lighting set to their native spectrum. How come this was here and her apartment was... so alien, even with its home comforts? What had Michuki done to deserve special treatment?
"We can't send things ourselves," Françoise half-said, half-asked.
"It's in your induction pack. The level of control exerted over disputed systems by both the ants and the damsels makes private off-world comms for journalists unfeasible. Hence having a Global News office with secure comms and a dedicated office manager."
"Yes," Françoise agreed.
She'd read it. She hadn't really believed it. But she was after that one story that would make her byline, make her money and comfort when she returned home, and she suspected that story lay in the unique position of the caterpillar world in the middle of a galactic war.
"I could go around with Kvalen," she said, not really wanting to spend any more time with him than necessary. "He could teach me some of the language, right?"
"He could," said Michuki.
Françoise forced a smile at the tone. "But you won't ask."
"And have the two of you fighting over writing the same stories and getting in each other's way? No. Go find your own piece of the planet."
"Maybe I should try another city."
Michuki smiled and hers wasn't forced. "Comms between cities aren't secure enough for you to get your pieces to me. You're better off bringing them in yourself unless you're planning on writing a travelogue that any damsel or ant can read. So, you could leave Zygo but you'll end up back here a lot."
I should have tried another planet, Françoise didn't say. She had bet wrong and she couldn't afford a ticket out of here.
"I'll try some people watching at the port," she said instead, mentally putting together a fluff piece on the disorientation of coming to an alien culture.
Michuki nodded. "If you see Kvalen, introduce yourself but leave him to it."
#
Françoise carefully read the guide book through on the pod journey from the Global News office to the port. There was barely anything to it and the author had terrible writing skills. However, it gave her some gestures to practice - those to make the pod go and some conversational basics in Zygo Caterpillar. She wondered how each set of gestures had come to be so similar to Central Damsel, like looking at Chinese ideograms knowing that the sounds would be different in each dialect. While languages never mapped exactly -
"Ah, you must be the new blood. Welcome to your exile," a male human voice said in English.
Françoise looked up. The pod had stopped and the door opened; a grey-blond man was watching her from the pod's tongue. At least it was obvious he was something to do with Global News and not a local.
"Hello," she said stiffly.
"Kvalen," he said, extending a hand. "From Oslo, back in the day. Where did they send you from?"
She stood up and folded her hands in front of her. "Paris."
Not that she had been sent. She had volunteered, hoping this would be the job that would see her through.
"Oh," said Kvalen. Pale, almost non-existent eyebrows arched up in surprise as he took his unaccepted hand back to rub at his chest. His clothing shifted with the movement, revealing a scar that circled his neck like a noose. "Oh. You must have been bad at your job to get sent here from Paris."
He said the city name with emphasis, as if exciting things happened there. Maybe they did, compared to Oslo.
"I'm just new," she said.
She wanted work and had no experience, she'd just asked to be sent somewhere that would give her the chance to write stories that would be published in both her home region and the other regions she knew the languages for. Her byline might not get famous but she had a chance to be published in four languages. He had no right to act so damned superior when he only wrote in two.
"Ah. Young and idealistic," said Kvalen. "At least one of those will be cured when you realise there isn't any meat here. Only a war that has nothing to do with us."
She would be competing with Kvalen for news space in the English-language regions, of course. She hadn't checked the name of the one other reporter on the planet before picking it but she knew he was only after war stories about a couple of species that just killed each other. Unless the caterpillars decided to oust both sets of occupiers, or demand support from other species, and then the war was everybody's. Those were the kind of war stories had the meat she needed, because she was going to win that space with better stories.
"I've never heard anyone calling for a cure for youth," Françoise said.
"They usually call it 'inexperience'," Kvalen said. "And it can cause some serious problems around here. Don't trust anyone. We're all just trying to stay alive. Are you finished with the pod? I have a lead to chase."
Françoise walked through the door and stopped on the tongue, forcing Kvalen to walk by her. She slipped the transponder safely into his pocket as he passed.
"Thank you for the advice," she said as he hurried into the pod and she stepped onto the pavement.
#
She turned on the transponder signal, just long enough to identify where Kvalen was, and found a travel pod to get her to the red dot glowing on the organiser's map. Well, nearby.
From what must have been about a caterpillar block away, Françoise turned the signal on again - not long enough to set off any equipment Kvalen knowingly carried but enough to be sure where the red dot was. It was in the same place.
She took a deep breath.
Kvalen probably didn't realise she was following him. Yet. As far as he was concerned, she was the new blood who didn't know the local landscape or language, not worth considering a threat. She just needed that to last long enough to get a couple of leads and then she could forget about following him. He'd probably never even notice.
Which only left the possibility of a caterpillar spotting her suspicious behaviour. Maybe they didn't know enough about humans to know her behaviour was off. She'd have to find out before she decided if she was starting a story rather than just gathering the evidence. Maybe she would help start that third column.
She left the travel pod behind and walked slowly in the direction of the red dot along the winding walkway. She disguised looking for a good place to hide as touristy rubbernecking and looked at her organiser every couple of steps. The few caterpillars also on the walkway ignored her.
A damsel soldier flew past, weapons holstered, and Françoise did nothing to stop her first, instinctive gasp. She hadn't realised they could do that, had assumed their wings were purely vestigial. It certainly made them that little bit more imposing and difficult to fight. Maybe it explained why the bugs' war had been going on so long.
"An alley," she muttered as the walkway turned and twisted and branched. "Of course. Where else would any self-respecting hack meet a source. What a cliché."
She almost longed for human alleys. If only because there wasn't a hiding place in this alien cityscape. At least the curve of the walkway made it possible to hear before she saw - and Kvalen's habit of saying what he was trying to communicate, even if it was in Norwegian, made it possible to hear. She thumbed her organiser and turned on translation, audio to text.
"So you take me to cemetery?" Kvalen asked and Françoise read.
A pause. The caterpillar or ant or damsel or even the other human must have signed something back. Maybe she should sneak slightly further along the corner, just far enough to see who he was talking to.
"And all this be clear?" Kvalen asked and Françoise read.
Another pause. Probably too late to investigate the other party, now.
"Tomorrow," Kvalen said and Françoise read. "See you tomorrow. Usual place."
Françoise tapped the translator and the map away. She wasn't sure where the "usual place" was but she would find it.
#
Françoise dropped her guide-book style filler piece off at the Global News office in the evening.
"Can you send this through to Earth, please? I have a French version for the francophone offices, an English copy for the anglophone offices, a Vietnamese version for Hanoi, and a Simplified Chinese version if you have an appropriate contact."
Michuki paused whatever she was doing and arched her eyebrows. "Starting big? Are you always this much of an overachiever?"
"Sorry I wasn't able to find a destination for the SC version myself."
Michuki nodded and returned to whatever her current task was. Françoise waited because she might as well hear the office manager's opinion, assuming it was the same opinion she sent to the bosses back on Earth.
It took a few minutes for Michuki to get around to sending the files. She gave the final touch to the desk controls with a flourish. "Done. I've sent the Simplified Chinese through to a contact at Orchid Station. They'll let us know if anyone is interested."
Françoise said nothing, just continued to wait.
"Well, the sinospheres are big," said Michuki.
It took a few more minutes for her to read through the English copy.
"Oh," said Michuki.
Françoise bit the inside of her mouth and kept her face smooth.
"Oh," said Michuki again. "You poor kid. No wonder you're here, even with all your languages."
Françoise shrugged nonchalantly. "Producing regular articles about living here seems like a good idea. There's so little information in the guide book."
The office manager looked at her with pity.
"I just decided I'd work the culture angle while I'm looking for something juicier," Françoise added. "Find out more about how caterpillars live, their coming of age ceremonies, death, that sort of thing."
Michuki looked at Françoise sharply.
Françoise smiled. "Do you agree with me?"
"You're going to need something better if you want to make your name out here," said Michuki. "It's hard enough getting pieces about Zygo published as it is."
#
Further careful use of the transponder meant Françoise followed Kvalen to his informant, an unusually dull looking example of a damsel, at the top of a high-rise building in the first light of dawn. The caterpillar construction meant it felt more like a mountain of sand and adobe made by carefully balancing lumps on one another. At least the lumps made for convenient hiding places.
"Caterpillar cemetery," Kvalen breathed and Françoise read.
The landscape didn't quite agree with him. There were soldier ant bodies stacked in piles and only three greying caterpillar corpses. Why were so many combatant bodies here in the middle of Zygo? There was no fighting in the city and Françoise hadn't seen any living ants, of any caste, nearby. She took pictures with her organiser.
The dull-looking damsel spread its mandibles to indicate it wanted to speak, and signed with its antenna and hands. The dialect was Central but Françoise didn't have a clear enough view to catch everything it said.
"Ant - hide - young - local - dammit! - something - sun," Françoise muttered.
She couldn't work out why Kvalen thought there was a story in a cemetery, whether caterpillar or ant. Why would he waste time - and a valuable damsel contact - chasing this? She probably should have read his story while she had the chance, see if it gave her an idea of where he was trying to take this.
"Sunrise?" Kvalen asked and Françoise read.
She looked over her shoulder, the top edge of this system's sun was just starting to appear on the horizon. Whatever was going to happen was going to happen soon.
The damsel stamped its feet, each one in sequence so that six little clouds of dust were raised from the cemetery floor. It may or may not have been a response, or a signal, or just warming itself up. But it was enough to make Françoise turn back to look at Kvalen and his contact, and bite back on a gasp as she saw a dead caterpillar twitch.
The twitching kept her attention until a hand appeared close to her face, ready to cover any noise.
"Quiet," Michuki whispered in her ear.
Françoise turned and raise an eyebrow that hopefully asked, "How did you get here?"
Michuki smiled and a firm hand on shoulder pulled Françoise down lower before pointing to the organiser. There was a new message from Michuki, presumably sent just moments before.
"This never happened. Report it and you'll go the way of Kvalen," it read.
Then the hand twisted Françoise's head so that she was looking at Kvalen and his contact again - and the three writhing caterpillar corpses.
"Hva-?" Kvalen said and Françoise didn't bother to look away to read.
His informant grabbed him, holding him still with arms and legs.
Kvalen struggled and shouted and screamed. The words weren't clear but Françoise didn't care. She could guess that it was all "Let me go!" and swear words - and she was too busy watching the wet, jewelled wings of damsels emerge from the caterpillar bodies. She itched to take pictures with her organiser, to record the words that ran through her head.
#
"Here," said Michuki.
She held out a mug of coffee. Françoise blinked at it for a while before taking it. When she closed her eyes, she could still see the newly fledged damsels eating Kvalen and his contact.
"Thank you," she said stiffly.
The office. Human-scaled, straight-edged, lit in the Sol spectrum. What precisely did Michuki have to do to get an office just so? Keep quiet about caterpillars being damsel young? It was almost enough to make Françoise want to leave the space that soothed her homesickness.
She worked her mouth and eventually managed to say "They-"
"Yes," said Michuki. "Kvalen had become a nuisance."
"But-"
"No."
Michuki cut off anything Françoise might have attempted to say. She couldn't put the sentences together into logical thoughts. Maybe in a few days it would make sense but right now...
A damsel had sacrificed Kvalen and itself. Caterpillars became damsels. Young damsels came out hungry and unthinking. Damsels fed their young on dead soldier ants and the occasional overly curious reporter. The caterpillar planet didn't need or hold a third force.
Was that a story? It was odd but would it sell? Would Kvalen's death sell? It brought humanity into the bugs' war - if only because a human had died - but she didn't have a way to write it without Michuki knowing and handing her over to the damsels.
"Caterpillars are damsels," Françoise said.
"So?"
"Is this their home world?"
Michuki shrugged. "Perhaps. They're hardly going to admit it. The ants would think they were winning."
It made a kind of sense. The damsels and the ants had been fighting since long before humans joined the spacefaring species. The only reason the royal ants hadn't sent soldier ants to claim the human system was because Earth was too far away to be of use. At least for now.
Françoise cleared her throat. "I need a story."
"Not that one."
"Not that one," Françoise agreed, still seeing the young damsel pull the head off Kvalen's body.
There was no way she could write it while she was on this planet and there was no way she was going to be allowed off planet in search of other stories. This really was the exile it felt like.