Eric Flint - Mother of Demons

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Julius desperately tried to interpose himself, but he was too far away. He was a slow runner at the best of times, and the invader was moving much faster than he would have believed possible. He saw Indira spin around. Her jaw dropped open. She pushed the children behind her and faced the onrushing monster. The creature squawled and drew back its weapons.

Suddenly, from nowhere, Francis Adams appeared. The physicist was shrieking like a maniac, holding a spear in both hands. His strike was pitifully clumsy. The spear glanced off the leatherish-looking armor which covered the creature's mantle. Adams' opponent whipped its flail around; the weapon practically ripped the physicist's legs off at the knees. Still shrieking, Adams collapsed onto the monster, grappling it like a wrestler.

With horror, Julius saw the creature raise its head, clutch the physicist's body with its tentacles and six small arms, and bite his chest with its small but sharp beak. Blood spurted everywhere.

A moment later, Julius drove his spear into the monster's mantle. His own strike was poorly done. The spear didn't glance off. He managed to drive it through the armor and well into the tough tissue of the mantle. But it was neither a killing nor even a crippling blow.

He had no time for a second strike. The thing was biting Adams. He simply threw himself into the spear with the frenzy of desperation.

Luckily, Julius was a strong man. He managed to lever the monster onto its side, where it lay squirming and writhing.

God, the thing must weigh at least three hundred pounds. But it's let go of Adams.

At that moment, the rest of the defense guard finally arrived. Three boys and a girl, brandishing spears, surrounded the stricken monster. They drew back their weapons.

"No!" shouted Julius. "Don't kill it! I want to keep one of them alive!"

Hesitantly, they obeyed. For its part, the monster was now lying still. Its huge eyes seemed filled with terror; its body was colored bright scarlet.

Julius turned to Adams. He knelt and cradled the physicist. Adams' legs were a mangled ruin, and his chest was covered with blood. But his eyes were open and he was conscious.

"Take it easy, Francis, take it easy," crooned the biologist. "You're going to be all right. Your legs are a mess, but the wound on your chest isn't fatal. Looks terrible, but-" (He was about to say: "but I can see the white bone of your sternum, and it's intact," but decided against it.)

Thankfully, Maria De Los Reyes appeared. She took one look at the wounds and began bawling orders. Still blessed (cursed?) with his observer's instincts, Julius saw that a semblance of order and sanity was returning to the village. From the south, he could see Joseph and Ludmilla loping back. They were moving quickly, but it was obvious that all danger had passed. As soon as Ludmilla saw Jens' prostrate form, she raced over and knelt at his side, crying and crooning.

"Julius-" A whisper.

"Don't talk, Francis. You're going to be all right."

He glanced questioningly at Maria. She nodded.

But Adams seemed not to hear.

"Julius-I- I'm sorry, Julius."

"Sorry? For what?"

A faint shake of the head. "I just couldn't-I just couldn't be of much use."

Julius started to say something, but at that moment Adams went into convulsions. He died thrashing in Julius' arms, in less than two minutes.

Julius heard the children shouting. He looked over and saw that the surviving invader was also thrashing about. Within seconds, it too was dead.

I forgot, he thought vaguely. On earth, octopi have poisonous bites. Must be true here also.

He looked over at the dead body of Adams' killer.

Well, you bastards figured out one way to kill us. But you have to pay a hell of a price. It cuts both ways, asshole.

When they buried Adams the next day, Julius erected a marker over the grave, as had become customary. The marker, carved on a small block of stone, simply read:

Francis Adams

Born Earth, AD 2126

Died Ishtar, CY 12

"CY" stood for "Colony Year." The colonists no longer knew what year it was by the Terran calendar, so they had established the day they crash-landed as the base for their own calendar. They still maintained, out of habit, the time measurement of years, months, and weeks. Ironically, the one advanced technological device which still worked was their well-nigh indestructable watches. So the colonists were able to keep precise track of time. But on Ishtar, these measurements were arbitrary and meaningless. The planet had neither seasons nor a moon. Constellations, which could have enabled them to calculate the year, couldn't be seen through the ever-present cloud cover. The Ishtarian day was the only objective criteria. It was slightly over 23 hours long, divided equally between daylight and darkness.

After a few minutes, as they stared at the grave, Indira heard Julius mutter something.

"What's the matter?"

Julius looked at her and sighed.

"I'm going to have to make another marker."

"What's wrong with this one?"

Julius shook his head. "He was a complete jackass the whole time I knew him, except for the last few minutes of his life. But that made up for everything."

The next day he erected a new marker. The only change was the name: Doctor Francis Adams.

The one positive development, thought Julius, was that he would finally be able to dissect a pseudo-cephalopod. But, again, he was frustrated.

"They want to what? " he demanded.

"They insist on burying them," said Indira. "And they're upset at the idea of harming them further."

"The things are already dead!"

Indira shrugged. "The owoc don't look at it the same way. They're quite insistent, Julius."

Inevitably, Julius lost the argument.

"I just don't get it," he grumbled, after the mass burial of the invaders. "Why should the owoc care what happens to the damn things? They're hereditary enemies. Carnivores, to boot."

Indira glared at him, fists planted on her hips.

"Is that so? The great biologist Julius Cohen has already analyzed the situation in every detail. The new creatures are carnivores, therefore-therefore what? I can remember you giving a different speech a few years ago."

Julius looked uncomfortable. "Well, I'm not claiming I understand everything about the watchamacallits. But I know a savage enemy when I see one!"

"Really? Such a brilliant mind. Let me ask you something, O great one. What was the relationship between the Amish and the Nazis?"

Julius frowned. "I don't understand the question."

"Really? How strange. A minute ago you had all the answers. I'll give you a hint-it's obvious."

Julius was still frowning. Indira snorted.

"They were both members of the human race. So, according to your logic, it would make sense to kill Amish because they belonged to the same species as the Nazis. Am I right?"

Julius hemmed and hawed, but Indira had him cold and he knew it.

She reinforced her point a few days later, after talking to the owoc.

"They're as unclear as they usually are, but there's no question that they don't think all of the-they're called gukuy, by the way-are the same. The owoc say that many of the gukuy-most of them, I get the impression-are dangerous and dreadful. But there are others whom the owoc seem to think rather highly of."

"Which others? And how can you tell the difference?"

Indira shrugged.

"That's great," muttered Julius. "That's just great."

Within a few months, the issue was resolved. And it became clear that the difference between "good" and "bad" gukuy was not all that difficult to determine.

Before that time came, however, the colony went through a major social transformation.