Eric Flint - Mother of Demons

The other Lieutenant in the hut, Andrew MacPherson, spoke for the first time.

"So. If we join the Kiktu, we risk everything at once. If we wait on the sides, we give ourselves some breathing room. That, I think, sums it up."

Joseph nodded.

"Which do you prefer?" asked Takashi.

"It is not for me to decide. The decision is not simply a military one. It involves the fate of the entire colony-and everyone else on the Chiton, gukuy and owoc alike."

Indira took command.

"Joseph is right. The council must make the decision. And we should-"

"No!"

She was stunned into silence. Joseph's voice had been like a thunderclap.

She stared at him. "But, Joseph-the council is the only-"

"No."

"But-"

"No."

Silence filled the hut. Indira looked around. The faces of all the young members of the council mirrored Joseph's-even the face of Anna Cheng. She looked at Julius. After a second, he looked away.

Joseph's voice drew her back to him.

"This" -he said, pointing to the map, "is not a decision like any other. It is the decision that will change everything. It is the decision that will make the future. It is a decision which can only be made by that person who understands the future, and its perils."

His face was like stone.

"And its secrets."

Indira's mind was blank. Like a bird, paralyzed by the gaze of a cobra.

Black as night. Implacable.

Joseph's face softened, slightly.

"I'm sorry, Indira. I am not angry with you, as I was before. I have been listening to Ushulubang, these past nights, and-"

He took a deep breath. "I know that I terrify you. I even think that I understand why. Some part of it, at least. This decision-" He pointed to the map "-seems obvious to me. As simple and easy to make as-as whether to cherish the owoc. But you see deeper than I. Than any of us."

Joseph paused, groping for words. He glanced at Ushulubang. Then said:

"This decision is not simply an answer. It is a question. A great question. Maybe the greatest question of all. The answer may be obvious, but the question is not. Therefore, only you can make the decision."

She started to protest.

"It is true- mother."

Desperately she scanned the room. Every face was like stone-even, to her horror, that of Julius.

No, not every face.

"Leave," she commanded harshly. "All of you-except Ushulubang."

Without hesitation, the young humans filed from the hut, Joseph leading the way. As Rottu and Ghodha turned to leave, Ushulubang said to them softly:

"Gather the apashoc. Tell them the flails of the Pilgrims are now under the command of the Mother of Demons."

Julius hesitated at the doorway, and turned back.

"I'm staying," he announced firmly. Seeing Indira's hard gaze, he shrugged.

"Indira, Joseph's right. For years, we've been able to stay on the sidelines. A cozy little colony, in a cocoon. But all things come to an end. Whatever decision you make, we are going to plunge into the mainstream of history. To sink or swim. And if we sink, we'll pull others down with us."

"Don't you think I know that?" she demanded angrily. "But why do I have to be the one to make the decision?"

"Because you're the only one who can, love. Joseph's right about that, too."

"That's nonsense!" shouted Indira. "The decision is obvious. Tactically, strategically-even morally."

Julius shrugged. "Then make it."

Indira opened her mouth, then closed it. Desperately, she looked at Ushulubang.

"How may I be of service?" asked the sage.

Indira whispered, "Do you understand?"

Ushulubang's mantle flooded brown with grief.

"Yes, Inudira, I understand. You cannot bear taking responsibility for the future. You cannot bear being-the Mother of Demons."

Tears began pouring from her eyes. "Let me tell you the truth about the future, Ushulubang, and its secrets. And its agony."

She spoke for three hours, without interruption. Her words were disjointed, at times. She made no attempt to present her thoughts in an organized and scholarly manner. Had she done so, it would have made no difference, in any event. Much of what she spoke were names which were completely new and unfamiliar to the gukuy who listened.

So many names. So many, many, strange demon names. Names of places, for the most part.

Places of infinite slaughter:

Auschwitz. Dachau. Hiroshima. Tuol Sleng. Dresden. Nagasaki. Verdun. The Somme. Bokhara. Sammarkhand. Rwanda.

Places where the strong savaged the weak:

Rome, and its victims. Rome, sacked. Jerusalem, sacked, and sacked, and sacked. Magdeburg. The Mfecane. Amritsar. Wounded Knee. Nanking. Sharpeville. Vietnam.

Places where the rich battened fat on the misery of the poor:

The helotry of Egypt and Sumeria and Sparta. The slavery of Athens and Rome. The knout of the Tsars and the boyars. The Middle Passage. The plantations of the Caribbean and the South. The Belgian Congo. The sweatshops of the industrial revolution. The Irish potato famine. The coal mines of Appalachia. The German slave labor factories of World War II. The Gulag. The Great Leap Forward. The International Monetary Fund.

Names of cruelty:

Hitler. Stalin. Tamerlane. Ivan the Terrible. Pol Pot. Nazis. Einsatzgruppen. Ku Klux Klan. Inquisition.

Deeds of cruelty:

Kristallnacht. The pogroms of Russia. The lynchings of the American south. The Albigensian Crusade-and all the other crusades.

Name after name after name-in a babble, at the end, until she finally fell silent.

Throughout, Ushulubang had not even moved. Now, she stirred slightly.

"So. Truly, a terrible road. Worse than I had hoped. But not, perhaps, as much as I have sometimes feared, in the darkest nights of the soul. You are here, after all. On this world which we call Ishtar, because the name given to it by demons is one which we can all agree upon."

Indira snorted. " Demons. It's a good name for us. Who but demons could be so cruel?"

"Yes. And who but demons could be so courageous?"

The sage stared up at the ceiling of the hut. "It is such a wonder to me. To be so brave and powerful. To cross the Infinite Sea."

Indira shrugged. Ushulubang gazed at her for a moment, before speaking again.

"Tell me, Indira. Is it true, as I have been told, that you did not flee to our world? That you came here of your own will?"

"Yes."

"What was your purpose, then?"

She explained, as best she could. Of an Earth ravaged, but at peace. Of a humanity which was struggling to rebuild a planet. Of those few, among the many preoccupied with immediate necessities, who had yearned for the stars. Who had managed, after much labor and effort, to equip a single expedition to come to the one star in the vicinity of Sol which had been determined to possess a habitable planet.

"Just so. A terrible road-but a road of beauty, also."

"I suppose. Yes."

"Another question. Of the many names which you told me, there seemed to be one name which appeared more often than any other." The gesture of apology. "It is difficult for me to pronounce. The-Natushishu?"

"Nazis."

"Yes. Truly, a terrible tribe. Worse than the Utuku, even. Or, perhaps, simply more powerful. You said they swept across the land like a fire, leaving nothing but death and destruction behind."

"Yes."

"But you did not tell me what happened to them, in the end."

Indira stared out the doorway.

"They came to a place called Stalingrad."

"Another place of horror?"

Indira thought of the soldiers of the Wehrmacht Sixth Army, encircled by the Soviet counterattack. Over three hundred thousand of them, caught in a maelstrom they had never created. Years later, a few thousand would return to their families. The rest-part of the unknown multitude washed away into the ocean called History.