Empire of the Ants (18 page)

Each tank saw the enemy evaporate and found itself facing an empty corridor. None reacted by zigzagging to engage the dwarves. Instead, their mandibles snapped on empty air and their thirty-six legs raced on uselessly.

A bitter smell spread:

Cut their legs off!

Dwarves immediately dived under the tanks and killed the bearers, then withdrew again at the double in order not to be crushed by the weight of the seed-crushers as they collapsed.

Others boldly threw themselves between the double rows of three bearers and punctured the proffered bellies with a single mandible. Liquid flowed from th
em and the seed-crushers' reser
voir of life poured out on the ground.

Yet others scaled the juggernauts, cut off their antennae and jumped from them while they were still moving.

The tanks collapsed one after another. The seed-crushers without bearers dragged themselves along like bedridden invalids and were finished off without difficulty.

It was a terrifying sight. The bodies of seed-crushers with their bellies split open were being carried along by their six workers, still unaware of what had happened. Seed-crushers deprived of antennae found their 'wheels' going off in different directions and tearing them apart.

Such a debacle sounded the knell of tank technology, no doubt one of many great inventions that disappeared from ant history because the means of countering it had been found too soon.

The russet legions and their mercenaries who were flanking the tank front were left without cover. They had been placed there to pick up the pieces and found themselves obliged to charge desperately, but the massacre of the seed-crushers had been managed so efficiently that the dwarf squares had already closed again. The Belokanians had scarcely made contact with a side before they were drawn in and hacked to pieces by thousands of greedy mandibles.

The russets and their roughnecks could only beat a retreat. Having regrouped on the crest of the hill, they watched the dwarves slowly climbing back up to the assault, still in compact squares. It was a frightening sight.

To
gain time, the biggest soldiers fetched bits of gravel and rolled them from the top but the avalanche barely slowed the dwarf advance. They were vigilant and moved out of the way as the blocks went by, then immediately resumed their places. Few were crushed.

The Belokanian legions desperately tried to find a way out. Some warriors suggested a return to the old combat techniques. Why not simply let fly with the artillery? For though acid killed as many friends as foes in the fray and little use had been made of it since the outbreak of hostilities, it should give very good results against the dense squares of dwarves.

The gunners quickly took up position, wedged firmly on their four hind legs with their abdomens thrust forward. They could thus pivot from left to right and up and down for the best aim.

The dwarves, now just below them, saw the tips of thousands of abdomens jutting over the crest of the hill but did not immediately realize the implications. They increased their pace, gathering speed to cross the last few centimetres of bank.

Attack! Close ranks!

A single order rang out in the opposing camp:
Fire!

The trained abdomens sprayed their burning venom on the dwarf squares.
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh.
The yellow jets whistled through the air and lashed the first line of assailants full in the face.

Their antennae melted first and trickled down on their heads. Then the poison spread to their cuirasses, liquefying them as if they were made of plastic.

The tormented bodies sank to the ground and formed a slight barrier over which the dwarves stumbled. They rallied furiously and threw themselves all the more fiercely into the assault on the crest.

At the top, a second line of russet gunners had taken over from the first.
Fire!

The squares broke up but the dwarves continued to advance, trampling the limp, dead bodies underfoot.

A third line of gunners appeared, joined by the glue-spitters.
Fire!

This time, the dwarf squares came apart completely. Whole groups struggled in the pools of glue. The dwarves tried to counter-attack by lining up a row of gunners themselves. They advanced backwards towards the summit and fired without aiming as they were unable to wedge themselves against the slope.

Fire!
emitted the dwarves in turn.

But their short abdomens only fired droplets of acid. Even when they reached their objectives, their jets only irritated the enemy's shells without piercing them.

Fire!

The drops of acid from the two camps crossed in the air, occasionally cancelling one another out. In view of the poor results they had obtained, the Shigaepouyans gave up using their artillery, believing they could win by sticking to the tactic of compact infantry squares.

Close ranks!

Fire!
replied the russets, whose artillery was still achieving marvels, and the acid and glue spurted yet again.

Despite the effectiveness of the firing, the dwarves reached the top of Poppy Hill, where their silhouettes formed a black frieze thirsty for revenge.

Rush. Rage. Ravage.

There were no more fancy manoeuvres now. The russet gunners could no longer squirt acid, the dwarf squares could no longer remain compact.

Swarm. Storm. Stampede.

Everyone got mixed up, milled about, got into line, ran, turned, fled, charged, dispersed, came together again, instigated small attacks, pushed, dragged, dashed, collapsed, reassured, spat, supported and screamed blue murder. Death was on everyone's minds. They took one another's measure, struggled and clashed mandibles. They ran over live bodies and motionless ones. Each russet ant had at least three furious dwarves on top of her but as the russet ants were three times bigger, the duels were fought with roughly equal weapons.

Hand to hand, amid scent cries and mists of bitter pheromones.

Millions of mandibles locked together, whether pointed, notched or serrated, in the shape of sabres or flat claws, single-edged or double-edged, smeared with poisonous saliva, glue or blood. The ground trembled.

Hand to hand.

Antennae weighted with little arrows whipped the air to keep the enemy at a distance. Claws struck like litde irritating reeds. Catch. Confuse. Confound.

You caught the other by the mandibles, antennae, head, thorax, abdomen, legs, knees, elbows, joint brushes, a breach in the shell, a notch in the chitin or an eye.

Then the bodies toppled over and rolled in the damp earth. Some dwarves scaled an idle poppy and let themselves fall with outstretched claws on top of a well-built russet ant. They pierced her back and stabbed her through the heart.

Hand to hand.

Mandibles scratched smooth armour.

A skilful russet ant used her antennae like javelins, propelling them simultaneously. She transfixed the heads of a dozen enemies without even stopping to wipe her blood-smeared stalks.

Hand to hand.
To
the death.

There were soon so many severed antennae and legs on the ground that it was like walking on a carpet of pine needles.

The survivors of La-chola-kan came running up and plunged into the fray as if there were not enough dead already.

Overcome by the sheer numbers of her minute assailants, a russet ant panicked, curved her abdomen up, sprayed herself with formic acid and killed her enemies and herself at the same time. They all melted like wax.

Some way off, another warrior pulled off her enemy's head with a sharp tug at the very moment that her own was torn off.

The 103,683rd soldier had seen the first lines of dwarves sweeping down on her. With a few dozen colleagues from her sub-caste, she had managed to form a triangle that had spread terror among the knots of dwarves. The triangle had finally broken and she now stood alone facing five Shigaepouyans already steeped in the blood of her beloved sisters.

They bit her all over and she did her best to bite back, automatically remembering the advice thrown at her in the practice arena by the old warrior:

The outcome of the fight is decided before the first blow is struck. The mandible or jet of acid only confirms what both combatants already know. It's all in the mind. If you accept victory, nothing can withstand you.

It might work with one enemy. But what were you to do when there were five of them? At present, she could tell that there were at least two of them who wanted to win at all costs, the dwarf who was methodically cutting through the joint of her thorax and the one who was tearing off her left hind leg. She felt a burst of energy surge through her and struggled to stick her antenna under one of their necks like a stiletto, making the other let go by stunning it with a blow from the flat of her mandible.

Meanwhile, some dwarves had returned to throw dozens of
alternaria-infected
heads into the thick of the battle. As they were all protected by snails' slime, the spores fluttered about and slid over their cuirasses before falling sluggishly to the ground. It really was an unlucky day for new weapons. They had all found a response.

At three o'clock in the afternoon, the fighting was at its height. Gusts of oleic acid, the characteristic smell given off by drying ant corpses, filled the air. At half past four, the russet and dwarf ants who still had at least two legs to stand on were still crossing swords beneath the poppies. The fighting finally stopped at five o'clock, when a clap of thunder announced imminent rain. It was as if the heavens had had enough of so much violence. Unless, of course, it was just the April showers arriving late.

The survivors and wounded withdrew. The final toll was five million dead, including four million dwarves. La-chola-kan was liberated.

As far as the eye could see, the ground was littered with contorted corpses, holed cuirasses and sinister parts which sometimes stirred with a last breath of life. Everything was covered in a film of transparent blood and there were puddles of yellow acid everywhere.

A few dwarves stuck in a pool of glue were struggling to return to their city but some birds arrived to peck them up quickly before the rain came down.

Lightning lit up the dark grey clouds and sparkled off a few tank carcases with their mandibles still raised to pierce the distant sky. When the actors had left the scene, the rain washed it clean.

She was speaking with her mouth full. 'Bilsheim?' 'Hello?'

' Grumf, grumf.
What kind of fool do you take me for, Bilsheim? Have you seen the papers? Is this Inspector Galin one of yours? He's that irritating little prick who tried to get familiar with me in the first few days, isn't he?'

It was Solange Doumeng, Director of the Criminal Investigation Department, who was speaking.

'Er, yes, I think so.'

'I told you to boot him out, and now I discover he's a posthumous star. You must be completely out of your mind. Whatever possessed you to send anyone so inexperienced on such a serious case?'

'Galin isn't inexperienced, he's an excellent cop. But I think we underestimated the seriousness of the case.'

'Good cops solve cases, bad ones find excuses.'

'There are cases which even the best of us . . .'

'There are cases which even the worst of you have a duty to solve. Fishing a couple out of a cellar falls into that category.'

'I'm sorry but. . .'

'You know where you can stick your excuses, don't you? Kindly do me the honour of going back down into the cellar and getting everyone out. Your hero Galin deserves a Christian burial. And I want an article praising our department by the end of the month.'

'What about?'

'The whole business. And I want you to keep your mouth shut. You're not to make hay with the press until the case is sewn up. You can take six policemen and the latest equipment, if you like. That's all.'

'And if. . .'

'If you foul up, you can count on me to spoil your retirement.' She hung up.

Superintendent Bilsheim could handle every other lunatic but her. He therefore resigned himself to working out a plan of descent.

when a man
: When a man is frightened, happy or enraged, his endocrine glands produce hormones which influence his body alone. They work in isolation. His heart beats faster, he sweats, pulls faces, shouts or cries. No-one else is affected. Others look at him without sympathizing, or sympathize because their intellect tells them to.

When an ant is frightened, happy or enraged, its hormones circulate inside its body, leave it and enter the bodies of others. Thanks to the pherohormones, or pheromones, millions of individuals shout or cry at the same time. It must be an incredible feeling to live the experiences of others and make them feel everything one feels one-self.

Edmond Wells,
Encyclopedia of Relative and Absolute Knowledge

There was jubilation in every city in the Federation. An abundance of sweet trophallaxis was offered to the exhausted combatants. However, there were no heroes. Everyone had done his job, whether well or badly was of little importance. Everything began again from zero at the end of missions.