You may think you know mushrooms. You, and many others equally ignorant, may think they're easygoing fellows who play tennis and love to frolic in the sun, that they're "fun guys." Perhaps at one time the mushrooms were a carefree race. But you can't imagine, you've never seen the ravages of a global mycological war.

But even among the years of darkness there are occasional rays of light, and heroes are born. And none is more legendary than that giant among the Bolete tribe, the fearless, spear-wielding wasp-rider, the one they call the Fleet Bolete. The mushroom who's dodged countless bullets of rebellious Boletes. Laughed in the faces of an army of enemy Amanitas, their eyes overflowing with enmity. Stood without a morsel of fear in front of a horde of immoral Morels. Confronted a legion of Lepiota without yielding one single iota. He is the greatest warrior of them all. He is the Fleet Bolete.

Like one, the Fleet Bolete and his steed, the Black Bomber, followed the contours of the night forest of lush grass so that they were no more visible than the Grim Reaper flying to collect his next victim's soul. It had been more than two weeks already, and despite his perpetually cool exterior and his confidence in his abilities, Fleet was starting to get as antsy as a spore floating on the wind. He knew how important this mission was. More important than any mission he'd ever been given before.

"Beatrice Bolete, winner of the New Bell Prize in genetics," the Elder had said, showing her picture. "The results of her research are of vital importance. And even more importantly, her son.... Everything has been leading to this. You must not fail. Our entire race of Mushroom People are counting on you."

A month had passed and there was still no sign of the biologists. Fleet had searched the vast grass forests from the skies tirelessly, day and night. If only it hadn't been the rainy season, with the constant torrential downpours which obscured all visibility. Every second that passed seemed to be dragging his whole race closer and closer to the brink of failure, of extinction. He must not, could not fail.

It was just before dark one evening that Fleet saw something unusual, deep within the dense foliage below: a slightly greenish, eerie glow. Fleet advanced cautiously, leaving the Bomber behind and holding his freshly sharpened #2 spear at the ready. After only a few moments he stumbled upon the first body. A scientist with his lab coat still on, but his cap separated from his stem in the most gruesome way. As he progressed, every sense alert, Fleet passed body after body. He had never seen such hideous de-cap-itations in all of his life.

And when he reached the source of the eerie green glow, Fleet almost gasped at what he saw. In front of him stood one of the biggest creatures he'd ever seen. It had long ears and a twitchy nose, and its fangs protruded from the front of its mouth, so sharp they glistened in the moonlight. Fortunately the behemoth was asleep, the remains of its recent meal still held in its deadly front claws. A huge glowing green rock sat in a nearby stand of tall grass, so close to the beast that it cast a strange light over the whole scene.

As amazing a sight as this was, however, it was nothing compared to the sight of a heavily pregnant mushroom woman in a lab coat creeping closer to the thing. And completely unarmed, no less.

Fleet watched in amazement as the woman, who must’ve been Beatrice the Bolete herself, crept closer and closer to it. He made a movement to catch her attention, and she whirled around, her spectacled eyes wide in surprise and fear. She was visibly relieved when she saw he was a mushroom man, but then she took him in with one quick, cool glance. With one impatient gesture of her hand she urged him to get away before turning her attention back to her previous task. He watched as she started quickly collecting samples from the glowing rock using a small chisel. After some time Fleet could see that the beast was getting more and more restless. Its nose seemed to be twitching more often, as if it smelled fresh mushroom meat nearby. Fleet moved towards the woman and silently gestured towards the beast, then pointed back the way he had come, to where the Bomber was waiting. She paused, then nodded at him and began to quickly wrap up her samples in cloth before depositing them into her rucksack.

It was just then that the beast opened its beady red eyes and stared directly at them. With a battle cry Fleet raced towards the creature, and his #2 spear quickly found its mark in the animal's shoulder. In pain the beast roared and struggled, but Fleet held on, driving the spear deeper and deeper. This angered the beast even more, and suddenly it used its powerful back legs to jump high into the air, throwing Fleet to the muddy ground and knocking the breath out of his body. Immediately Fleet was up again, simultaneously pulling out his needle sword and dodging the beast's snapping jaws. He feinted left, then followed up with a series of sharp slashes, but the beast's hide was too thick for the sword to cause much damage.

Fleet gave a sharp whistle. The Bomber appeared with Beatrice already astride it, and Fleet jumped behind her, and they were off. The beast leaped after it, its red eyes full of hate and its jaws drooling, but the Bomber evaded it with ease and they were soon out of its malevolent reach.

***

As they flew Beatrice related the whole story to him. But when Fleet asked her about the rock, Beatrice grew suddenly silent, and absent-mindedly stroked the rucksack that she still held close to her pregnant belly. Finally she said, "It's the key. The answer we've been seeking for so long. It explains everything. This hunk of rock..." She paused and seemed to be studying the unearthly glow. "This rock is what gave us life. This rock is what created the Mushroom Men."

***

They were still days away from the village when Beatrice became violently ill. Though she didn't complain once, Fleet knew that if she and her child, the savior of their race, were to live, they must return to the village at once. They pressed on. Every minute in the saddle and the rain made Beatrice's condition worse. Yet every minute they were away from the village and proper medical care the more danger both mother and child were in.

At last the village came into view. Beatrice was barely conscious, slumped against Fleet. He held her close, as if trying to absorb her fever into his own body, urging his weary steed onward. The Bomber had hardly finished landing before he was out of the saddle with Beatrice in his arms, running toward the Elder's hut and calling for help.

In spite of all his weariness Fleet couldn't sleep while Beatrice was being attended to, and he remained outside the Elder's hut. He waited for news to come, and for one of the few times in his life he found himself whispering a small prayer.

At last the Elder himself appeared. "It is good that you found her in time to save her life," he said, "and our people and I thank you for it. Her findings are very important indeed and will do much to help us. As for her son..." Here the Elder looked very serious, and Fleet knew immediately that he hadn't survived. Fleet felt a despair that overwhelmed the surge of relief he had felt that Beatrice was alive, but the Elder quickly held up his hand. "Before you grieve, however," he said, "know that all is not lost."

"But the prophecy!" All the tension of the past few weeks burst out of Fleet at once. "Everything depends on him! How shall we --"

"It is true that the savior of the Mushroom Men that we were all waiting for was the son of this woman, Beatrice of the Boletes. But know this also. Beatrice is a tenacious young woman and will make a speedy recovery. And, if she finds a proper partner, I believe before too long she'll have a nice brood of young spores. Including a son. And perhaps he'll even learn to be a wasp-rider... like his father."

With that the Elder quietly exited, leaving Fleet with a small, somewhat dazed, smile. The smile gradually grew broader and broader, until finally, for the first time in ages, he was laughing with joy.

As for Fleet's other adventures, and his son's, and the fate of the Mushroom people, well, those stories will have to wait for another time.

Discuss this story in the RevolutionSF Fiction Forum.