Eric Flint - Mother of Demons

Brown tones rippled through the mantles of the maia observing the scene. If the children were to be believed-and the scene she was watching gave strong support to their opinion-brown was the color of misery. The stricken maia herself was also dappled with brown hues, although the predominant color was ochre. Then, as Indira watched, the ochre faded. A few brown stripes continued to move slowly across the maia's mantle, but now green rapidly appeared and spread.

The maia surrounding the scene began hooting. There seemed, somehow, a questioning tone to the hoots.

The stricken maia herself had stopped hooting. Suddenly, to Indira's astonishment, the color of her mantle deepened-first to dark green, and then to midnight black. She had never seen that color on a maia before.

As if it were a signal, three of the maia moved to the fallen one's side. Using their cowls like great shovels, they levered the creature upright. Two other maia moved forward, one on each side of the stricken one, and leaned into her. Then, most of her weight being carried by the two helpers No, realized Indira suddenly, pall-bearers.

– the trio began making their slow way north. Everyone followed, maia and human, the maia softly hooting and the children sobbing.

On the way, they met Julius and Korecz, who had come to see what the commotion was about. The biologist and the doctor fell in with Indira.

"What-" Julius started to say, but fell silent at the sight of Indira's sharply upthrust hand.

Slowly, the procession made its way north, until they arrived at a grove of striking green plants, twisting vine-like things that curled and wove into each other like an enormous free-standing ball of spaghetti. The color of the stricken maia's mantle, Indira noted, was now very close to that of the vine-plants.

The "bearers" gently set the stricken maia Wolugo, thought Indira fiercely. Her name is Wolugo.

– down to the ground. Then, they edged back. Silence followed, for minutes. Wolugo was motionless, except for a faint movement of the fleshy flaps deep within the recesses of her mantle cavity, back of the octopoid head. Julius had often speculated that these were the inhaling orifices for some kind of lungs (or their equivalent).

The rest of the colony's adults arrived at the scene during the course of that long wait. Adams was the last to appear. The metallurgist examined the scene for a moment, then said loudly:

"Yes, of course. The elephant's graveyard."

Indira was shocked at the expression which flooded Julius' face. For a brief moment, she thought the biologist was actually going to strike the man with his fist.

She was even more shocked when she discovered that she was hoping he would.

But the moment passed.

Not long after, Wolugo died. Indira had no doubt of the moment. Deep within the mantle cavity, she could see the maia's flaps stop moving. And, in the space of but a few seconds, all color fade from her mantle, until there was nothing but gray. It seemed, to Indira, the dullest gray she had ever seen.

She found herself fighting back tears. When she realized what she was doing, she stopped fighting, and let the tears flow freely. All the humans, adult and children alike (except Adams), were doing likewise. And she saw that, across the mantles of the living maia, stately waves of brown and green were slowly moving.

A few minutes later, the maia began behaving strangely. Several of the maia left, heading back toward the oruc grove. One of those remaining began a peculiar movement on a patch of soil next to the vines-a kind of slow side-to-side two-step, dragging its peds.

After a minute or so, Indira saw that two mounds of earth were slowly piling up on either side of the patch.

Understanding struck her like a bolt of lightning. Her mouth agape, she turned to Julius.

But Julius was not there. He was already striding up the slope of the mountainside, heading toward the shell of the shattered landing boat. The place where the colony stored its tools.

Not long after, she saw him return. He was carrying a shovel in each of his hands. And over his shoulder were draped strips of various types of cloth and fabric. Green fabric. Brown fabric.

He smiled at her crookedly, but said nothing. He made a gesture to Koresz with one of the shovels. Koresz took the shovel without hesitation. And the doctor did not have to be told to drape strips of colored fabric over his shoulders.

That done, the two men advanced slowly onto the patch of cleared soil, facing the maia who was creating it.

The maia stopped, stared. Ochre bands were added to its coloration. Julius made shoo-ing motions with his hands, which, to a human, would have signaled: "Move back."

When he saw that the maia wasn't moving, Julius sighed heavily.

"Ever play football?" he asked Koresz.

"Please! I am not a barbarian."

"Well, rookie, lend me a shoulder anyway."

So saying, Julius stooped and lowered his upper body until his shoulder was butted gently against the cowl of the maia. Koresz, uncertainly, followed suit.

Then, slowly but with as much strength as he could muster, Julius attempted to push the creature back.

It might have moved an inch. Maybe. But the hoot which it emitted carried a clear tone of surprise.

Julius straightened up, grimacing, rubbing his lower back.

"As I feared," he muttered. "It's like trying to block Lawrence Taylor."

"Who?" asked Koresz.

"An ancient legend from the dawn of time, Vladimir, whose name is known only to barbarians like me who happen to be the few football fans left on Earth in these effete modern days. A hero, from the Golden Past. A demi-god. Think of Hercules, or Theseus. Or both rolled into one. Sorta like that."

He stared at the maia, chewing his upper lip.

"I guess we'll just have to try to dig around-"

Suddenly, the maia edged back until it was clear of the patch.

"Well. Thank you. Took you long enough, dimbulb."

He started digging. He and Koresz.

It took a long time to dig a grave big enough to accommodate the body of Wolugo, especially since Julius insisted on what he called "the regulation six feet." Indira, when she took her turn with the shovel (all the adult humans took a turn in the grave, even Adams-although he only lasted fifteen minutes), suggested to Julius that the maia were probably accustomed to shallow graves. But Julius had been unmoved.

"Yeah, probably so. But I finally found something that humans can do for them that they can't do very well for themselves, and I'm not about to do a slipshod job of it."

Despite her aching muscles, she found herself suddenly in agreement with his point of view.

By the time they were finished, it was late in the day. Indira was not surprised to see that, while the humans had dug the grave, the maia had been gathering clumps of oruc.

Food, to sustain the dead in their voyage.

Nor was she surprised to see that Joseph had organized the children to provide their own gifts. And so it was that when the body of the maia Wolugo was lowered into her grave, she was accompanied not only by clumps of oruc but by strips of cloth, small tools (whose use she would not have understood), toys, trinkets, and several of the small bowls that the colonists had made to eat the maia-food.

It was those last gifts, more than anything else, which brought tears to Indira's eyes.

Bowls. So that the gentle giant, if she encountered starving children in the afterworld, could once again give life to the dead.

The next day, Indira left the human camp and went to live with the maia. She remained there for months, refusing all contact with adult humans (even Julius; but he was not hurt, because he understood), and refusing to speak to the children if they used any Terran language.