This creature is a hybrid. Half native to this world. Half derived from organisms of the formic world.
No, not "organisms." Derived from the formics themselves. The body structure was basically formicoid. It would take very creative and knowledgeable gene-splicing to construct a viable creature that combined attributes of two species growing out of such disparate genetic heritages. The result would be a species that was half formic, so that perhaps the hive queens could communicate with them mentally, control them like any other formics. Only they were still different enough that they didn't completely bond with the queen--so when this world's hive queen died, the gold bugs didn't.
Or maybe they already had a species they used for menial tasks, one that had a weak mental bond with the hive queens, and that's what they interbred with the parasitic worms. Those incredible teeth that could burrow right through leather, cloth, skin, and bone. But sentient, or nearly so. It could still be ruled by the hive queen's mind.
Or my mind. Did it come back at my summoning? Or was it simply taking the easy food first?
By now the larva had plunged down onto each of the bits of food and devoured them--along with a thin layer of the stone floor at each spot. The thing was hungry.
Sel formed a picture in his mind--a complicated one now. A picture of Sel and Po bringing food into the tunnel. Feeding the larva. He pictured himself and Po going in and out of the cave, bringing food. Lots of food. Leaves. Grain. Fruit. Small animals.
The larva came toward him, but then circled around him. Writhed around his legs. Like a constrictor? Did it have that snakelike pattern, too?
No. It didn't get tighter. It was more like a cat.
Then it pushed from behind. Nudging him toward the tunnel.
Sel obeyed. The thing understood. There was rudimentary communication going on.
Sel hurried to the tunnel, then knelt and sat and started to try to slide along as he had coming in.
The larve slid past him in the tunnel and then stopped. Waiting.
The image came into his mind, just a flash of it: Sel holding on to the larva.
Sel took hold of the creature's dry, articulated surface, and it began moving forward again. It was carefully not thrashing him against the wall, though he scraped now and then. It hurt and probably drew blood, but none of his bones broke and none of the lacerations were deep. Perhaps it was bred to give rides like this to formics when they were still alive. It wouldn't have bothered a formic to bash against the walls a little.
The larva stopped. But now Sel could see the light of day. So could the larva. It didn't go out there; it shied from the light and backed down the tunnel past Sel.
When Sel emerged into the daylight and stood up, Po ran to him and hugged him. "It didn't eat you!"
"No, it gave me a ride," he said.
Po wasn't sure how to make sense of this.
"All our food," said Sel. "I promised we'd feed it."
Po didn't argue. He ran to the pack and started handing food to Sel, who gathered it into a basket made by holding his shirt out in front of him. "Enough for the moment," said Sel.
In a few moments, he had his shirt off and stuffed with food. Then he started laboriously down the tunnel again. In moments the larva was there again, coiling around him. Sel opened the shirt and dropped the food. The larva began eating ravenously. Sel was still close enough to the entrance that he could squat-walk out again.
"We'll need more food," said Sel.
"What's food to the larva?" asked Po. "Grass? Bushes?"
"It ate the vegetables from my lunch pack."
"There's not going to be anything edible growing around here."
"Not edible to us," said Sel. "But if I'm right, this thing is half native to this world, and it can probably metabolize the local vegetation."
If there was one thing they knew how to do, it was identify the local flora. Soon they were shuttling shirtfuls of tuberous vegetables down the tunnel. They took turns carrying food to the larva.
Morgan had gone inside the shuttle; Ender had given his orders and the ship's crew was unloading the shuttle while the locals loaded up the skimmers and transported the cargo to the right places. Other people knew better than Ender how to direct and carry out these tasks, so he left them to it while Ix took him to the xeno station where Sel's ansible was waiting, amid the other communications equipment. "I just need to transmit a quick message back to Eros," Ender said.
While he was still composing it, the voice of young Po Tolo came in on the radio.
"No, I'm not your father," said Ender. "I'll call him."