“What happened to the fly?”
Simeon said: “There’s a kind of mouth in the top of the trunk.” The thought made them all shudder.
By now, the sounds of the browsing millipede had receded behind them; and since the tree blocked their way forward, they decided to return the way they had come. They emerged on to a path that had been completely cleared of vegetation, so that it looked almost like a man-made road. The millipede had already moved on a hundred yards uphill.
Milo said: “Look, it’s turned round.” The millipede’s head, which was eating the vegetation at the edge of the path, rose and looked at them, a fragment of creeper hanging from its jaws; then, deciding they were harmless, it continued to eat.
Niall said: “But the other end’s eating as well.”
They stared with open-mouthed amazement. There could be no possible doubt; the millipede had a head at either end. The head that was now turned towards them seemed smaller and more pointed than the other, but it functioned with the same efficiency. Its partner had overlooked many juicy stems, particularly at the edge of the path; these were now removed with a certain delicate precision, the head at the rear having more time to complete its task. As it chewed a creeper — which writhed frantically as it vanished into the corner of its mouth — the flat, sleepy eyes gave them a sideways glance that seemed to contain such an infinitude of disgust that they all burst into roars of laughter, and then laughed more loudly still as the millipede gave a start of alarm and hurried forward several yards.
Doggins said: “Well, at least the Delta seems to have a sense of humour.”
Simeon said: “That thing didn’t develop two heads to make you laugh.”
They were all in high spirits as they followed the path downhill; the absence of vegetation made walking a pleasure. But Niall was lost in thought, and deliberately walked behind the others, so as not to be drawn into conversation. The sight of the double-headed millipede had filled him with wonderment, but also with an underlying excitement. The creature looked comic, though the purpose behind its absurd appearance was deadly serious. Yet even Niall could see that it was an evolutionary disaster. The tremendous life force of the Delta had driven it to grown until it was as large as a row of houses. That meant that it had to devote its whole life to feeding to sustain its gigantic body. This had left it vulnerable to enemies, so it had developed two heads so it could see the approach of enemies from both directions. In that case, why not a series of eyes along its backbone, or all along both sides? The real answer would have been for it to limit its size and develop more formidable weapons. But its lack of brain prevented it from making the sensible choice. . .
All this led him back to the question: what had gone wrong with human evolution? Millions of years of struggle had made man a specialist in the art of survival. His evolution had turned into a broad downhill path. Then why had he been so frustrated and dissatisfied when the comet forced him to abandon the earth? Why did men seem incapable of real happiness?
In a sense, the answer was obvious: because he was incapable of appreciating a life without problems. Yet this was obviously an absurdity. Man had created civilisation to solve problems: the problem of food, the problem of security, the problem of peace of mind. Why should he feel bored and dissatisfied because he had solved all his problems. . .?
Milo said: “Oh look! There’s another of those trees.”
As they were approaching the edge of the forest, the woodland had become less dense, so they could see for a greater distance between the trees. Instead of tangled undergrowth there was rich grass underfoot. A dozen yards away, standing in a small clearing on its own, stood a big Judas tree, its pale green leaves reflecting the sunlight. It was at least twice as tall as those they had seen so far, and the quivering leaves gave it a festive appearance.
Milo said: “Can we stop and try it?”
Doggins shook his head. “No. We’ve got a long way to go, and it’s already midday.”
“It would only take five minutes.”
“There’s just not time.”
Manetho said: “I could do with a drink.”
Milo said quickly: “So could I.”
They halted and removed their packs.
Doggins said: “My God!”
“What is it?”
“Look.” He pointed at the ground. Niall could see nothing unusual in the lush green grass. Doggins said: “Watch.” He lifted his pack; the earth underneath it was bare. Slowly, he lowered it to the ground a few feet away; as he did so, the grass underneath it moved sideways with a gentle, wave-like motion. When Doggins raised the pack again, the ground was again bare. But the naked brown patch a few feet away was now covered with grass.
“Ever seen anything like that before?”
Simeon shook his head. “Never.”
He bent down and picked up a blade of grass; as the shadow of his hand fell over it, the rest of the grass moved sideways. Simeon held the grass blade up against the sunlight. He chuckled. “Look at that!”
Niall peered over his shoulder. At the bottom of the grass blade — which was more than a quarter of an inch thick — there were tiny white roots. When Simeon pinched the blade, these wriggled like a millipede’s legs.
“Walking grass!”
Niall knelt down on the ground and seized a handful of the grass; it attempted to escape the shadow of his hand, but was not able to move fast enough. It seemed to writhe in his hand, and as he held it upside down, he could see the wriggling of thousands of thin white legs. He replaced it on the ground in the middle of the path made by the millipede; the grass seemed quite contented to remain there. Niall knelt on all fours, and peered at it. The tiny legs had now vanished into the earth. But as soon as he reached for it, allowing the shadow of his hand to fall across it, the grass instantly uprooted itself and moved sideways, establishing itself again a few inches away.
He plucked a single blade, and nibbled it. It tasted exceptionally sweet and juicy, and was tender enough to swallow.
Milo began to laugh. “Can you imagine the expression on the face of that millipede as it tries to take a huge bite and finds it’s got a mouthful of earth!”
Simeon said: “It’s not fast enough to escape any normal herbivore — look.” He moved his hand over it; in its attempt to escape, the grass bunched together into a thick mass. This overcrowding effect produced the wave-like motion.
“Then why does it move?”
“To escape the sun when it’s too hot and the shadows when it’s too cold. Another example of accelerated evolution.” He looked around with grudging admiration. “This place could keep a thousand scientists busy for a century.”
Milo said: “I”d rather stay at home.” A shadow crossed his face, and Niall could tell that he was thinking about Ulic.
Doggins said: “Oh well, I suppose we may as well stop and eat here. There’s not much shade out there.” The terrain ahead of them was obviously swampland; it was covered with rich green grass and flowering shrubs, but there seemed to be few trees.
Manetho pointed. “There’s another of those pink flowers. Shall I get it?”
Doggins shrugged. “Be careful.” He turned to Niall. “You’d better go with him.”
The bush was among the trees on the far side of the path; as they approached it, Niall observed the faint quiver that ran through its leaves. His grip tightened on the Reaper. But by the time they were within a few feet of the bush, there was no sign of motion. The pink flowers diffused their sweet, heavy fragrance, and the bush looked as harmless as a garden shrub. The whip-like tentacles were hidden behind the glossy leaves. They stood looking at it for a moment, watching for any sign that might reveal that the bush was aware of their presence, but it was motionless.
With a single, swift movement, Manetho raised the machete and sliced off one of the flowers; it fell a few feet away, on the bare earth. At the same moment, Manetho leapt backwards. But he was not fast enough to escape the green tentacle that lashed out of the bush and seized his wrist. As he tried to tear himself away, more tentacles wrapped themselves round his legs. Another attempted to seize Niall, but he was standing too far away.
Aiming carefully, Niall pressed the trigger. The blue beam severed the tentacle that was holding Manetho by the wrist; then, as he lowered the weapon, sliced through the thicker tentacles that held his legs. Manetho fell backwards on to the ground. The severed ends of the tentacles continued to wriggle; the others had retreated back into the brush.