believe the little trapped man had some powerful magic indeed, if she thought he could help destroy those hordes of undead. “Must help,” she repeated.
“Why use us? Why not use the flying stone, with its strong tight fire?” asked Chert.
Veela got the gist of what he said, though she seemed confused by the phrase “flying stone.” She said, “Weapon, tired becomes.”
So the spirit that guided or inhabited the strong tight fire was too fickle to explode all the undead heads at once, but required multiple sacrifices and exhortations. Or else it really did grow tired. That would be even more worrisome, especially if Veela proved correct about the nature of the spirit of the undead sickness—how could a spirit that quickly and easily grew tired fight an infinitely gluttonous and infinitely larger one?
“But why do you need us ?” demanded the Jaw. “What can we do, compared to you? You’re the one with the strong tight fire.”
Veela struggled to respond. It was a linguistic struggle but also a diplomatic one, since she didn’t want to come out and say that she lacked faith in her partner Dak’s ability to monitor the zombies as well as he claimed he could. For example, she knew the ship’s rinky-dink sensors couldn’t penetrate the planet surface to see what might be going on in the cave networks. On top of that, she and Dak were clearly prone to error, since they’d let a zombie mouse stow away on their ship, coming all the way back with them through time. And that mouse had apparently bitten a member of Population Group B (the people Chert and the Jaw knew as Overhills), after she’d already chosen their language as the one to start studying. The plague had wiped that whole group out in an hour. And while zapping them all in the heads with lasers, Dak had failed to notice that a band of Neanderthals had come across a stray zombie. They’d beheaded it and started using its head as a fucking lamp, till one of them got himself bitten. A lot of people had died because Dak had been preoccupied—not that the perimeter wall he was busy with wasn’t important. There were plenty of drones on the ship—if they could access them Veela was certain they could locate and destroy every zombie on the planet, but they were locked up in a special hold and Dak couldn’t decipher the lock, so he was stuck using only the ship’s on-board laser.
“Need friends, know land,” she said, wishing she knew the word for “environment.” Although these people probably didn’t have a concept of “environment” that matched well with hers—the closest might be something like “world.” She said, “Need friends, know land. Need friends, know tongues.” Even though all the other people in this immediate area were apparently dead or zombified, Veela wanted to be able to communicate with those outside the perimeter in case some zombies had escaped, regardless of how impossible Dak claimed that would be.
Also, she wanted to be able to communicate with people beyond the perimeter because hopefully they would survive all this, and would one day go out and interact with those folks. It wasn’t as if she and Dak could go back where they’d come from. And remembering the Jaw’s scream and Chert’s blow from the rock, she decided she’d prefer not to be alone next time she had to go through the getting-to-know-you process.
“If we can’t use the strong tight fire,” pressed Chert, “how can we fight the no-dies?”
“Need help, talk to other people. Explain no-dies, other people.”
“And what if we run across no-dies before running across other people who need explaining?”
“Head.” After some pantomiming, they guessed she was trying to indicate the word “remove.” They taught it to her, and she said, “Remove head. After, no-die body die. No-die body live not with head, short time. After, no-die body die.”
Chert grew angry. “You want us to walk up to those things and take their heads off with
“Why use us? Why not use the flying stone, with its strong tight fire?” asked Chert.
Veela got the gist of what he said, though she seemed confused by the phrase “flying stone.” She said, “Weapon, tired becomes.”
So the spirit that guided or inhabited the strong tight fire was too fickle to explode all the undead heads at once, but required multiple sacrifices and exhortations. Or else it really did grow tired. That would be even more worrisome, especially if Veela proved correct about the nature of the spirit of the undead sickness—how could a spirit that quickly and easily grew tired fight an infinitely gluttonous and infinitely larger one?
“But why do you need us ?” demanded the Jaw. “What can we do, compared to you? You’re the one with the strong tight fire.”
Veela struggled to respond. It was a linguistic struggle but also a diplomatic one, since she didn’t want to come out and say that she lacked faith in her partner Dak’s ability to monitor the zombies as well as he claimed he could. For example, she knew the ship’s rinky-dink sensors couldn’t penetrate the planet surface to see what might be going on in the cave networks. On top of that, she and Dak were clearly prone to error, since they’d let a zombie mouse stow away on their ship, coming all the way back with them through time. And that mouse had apparently bitten a member of Population Group B (the people Chert and the Jaw knew as Overhills), after she’d already chosen their language as the one to start studying. The plague had wiped that whole group out in an hour. And while zapping them all in the heads with lasers, Dak had failed to notice that a band of Neanderthals had come across a stray zombie. They’d beheaded it and started using its head as a fucking lamp, till one of them got himself bitten. A lot of people had died because Dak had been preoccupied—not that the perimeter wall he was busy with wasn’t important. There were plenty of drones on the ship—if they could access them Veela was certain they could locate and destroy every zombie on the planet, but they were locked up in a special hold and Dak couldn’t decipher the lock, so he was stuck using only the ship’s on-board laser.
“Need friends, know land,” she said, wishing she knew the word for “environment.” Although these people probably didn’t have a concept of “environment” that matched well with hers—the closest might be something like “world.” She said, “Need friends, know land. Need friends, know tongues.” Even though all the other people in this immediate area were apparently dead or zombified, Veela wanted to be able to communicate with those outside the perimeter in case some zombies had escaped, regardless of how impossible Dak claimed that would be.
Also, she wanted to be able to communicate with people beyond the perimeter because hopefully they would survive all this, and would one day go out and interact with those folks. It wasn’t as if she and Dak could go back where they’d come from. And remembering the Jaw’s scream and Chert’s blow from the rock, she decided she’d prefer not to be alone next time she had to go through the getting-to-know-you process.
“If we can’t use the strong tight fire,” pressed Chert, “how can we fight the no-dies?”
“Need help, talk to other people. Explain no-dies, other people.”
“And what if we run across no-dies before running across other people who need explaining?”
“Head.” After some pantomiming, they guessed she was trying to indicate the word “remove.” They taught it to her, and she said, “Remove head. After, no-die body die. No-die body live not with head, short time. After, no-die body die.”
Chert grew angry. “You want us to walk up to those things and take their heads off with
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