Donald Moffitt - Genesis 02

species.”
    “Insects seem to have been a remarkably single-minded life form.”
    “In the sense of a will to survive? So were our own ancestors, no doubt. But those creatures building their city out there have developed intelligence. They’ve learned how to survive and propagate through technology. Don’t worry. Once we get a key to their developmental patterns, we’ll find a way to communicate with them.”
    “I hope so.”
    Jorv frowned. “I still haven’t decided whether their ancestors were plant eaters or meat eaters. The mouth parts are hidden inside that odd facial structure. There were over a hundred million species of insects, and so far I haven’t been able to find anything like it.”
    Ame came over with a new sheaf of blowups. “Hunters or browsers?” she mused. “It would be nice to know before we meet them again.”
     
    *
     
    As it happened, it was the insect-folk who made the first move. Bram was having a meal with Ame when .he got a call from one of the watchers he had posted on the plain.
    “Bram-captain, one of those tube machines is rolling in your direction. It zigzags a lot, but there’s no doubt about where it’s headed. It should reach the digs in about an hour.”
    “Thanks. Stay where you are. Keep an eye out for any more of them.”
    He stood up. Ame said, “I’ll get the others.”
    “Tell them to keep their distance till we see what they’re up to. Let’s see what they have in mind, for a change.”
    He deputized a dozen people for crowd control. “Tell everybody to stay out of their way. Don’t interfere with them. If any approach is made, it will be done by one of the specialists.”
    An hour later, the excavated streets were full of waiting people. Word had gotten around fast. They sat on ledges, hung over the low rooftops that had thrust themselves out of the rubble, and loitered in the stone arches. Bram had a vantage point from the top of one of the buildings facing the moon plaza. If the insect surveying party kept to the avenues of rubble leading into town, this would be the major route.
    “There it comes,” Jao said beside him.
    A tiny shape appeared in the distance and soon resolved itself into one of the tube vehicles, bumping along on its fat tires at about twenty-five miles an hour. The four barrel-shaped rollers were all grouped close together under a cab that seemed to carry most of the weight; the long, slender cylindrical body tilted upward at a thirty-degree angle behind it, doing a lot of vibrating. Bram supposed it made as much sense as any other design for rough country; if the cab had to crawl over an obstacle, the projecting section had plenty of leeway to tilt downward without dragging.
    The bizarre vehicle rolled by the crystalline shafts of the moonropes without slowing down and came to a quivering stop at the edge of the wide plaza. Bram could see human figures peeking at it from around corners.
    He waited for a door to open, but none did. After a few minutes a boxy helmet emerged from the end of the tube, about twelve feet above the ground. The rest of the insect-person extruded itself, hung rigidly horizontal from the lip of the tube by the claspers at the tip of its elongated abdomen, and let itself drop lightly on all fours to the ground. Seven more of the creatures followed.
    They stood around, conferring with twitching movements of their long sterns. Bram saw little, discreet flashes of lights from their helmets and assumed it was the polarized light version of radio communication. After getting everything settled to their apparent satisfaction, they slung equipment over their humped shoulders—or hips, if that’s what they were—and began skittering down the long boulevard with lots of nervous, darting side trips, staying in a loose group.
    People began to drift down from rooftops and emerge from side streets to trail after the insect-people at a respectful distance.
    “We’d better get down there,” Bram said.
    He vaulted over the rooftop and floated to the ground, with Jao close behind him. He strode in thirty-foot bounds across the plaza and caught up with the little parade going down the avenue.
    Trouble started almost immediately. A skylarking fool who had been leaping up and down in great swoops shot fifty feet into the air and came down squarely in front of one of the insect-people. Apparently he got a good look at the jelly-eyed face within the helmet, because he backed away with a jerk and stumbled.
    The