How easy it would be to give in to the fear and disgust; to attack these loathsome beasts and force them back into the concealment of the waves, Cinnamon thought. She did her best to stay in her ichthyologist mode, forcing herself to look in a detached manner at the Demonfish, not as murdering monsters, but as simple animals—strange, crawling, hair-covered fish that she had been called upon to observe and classify. Standing by her side, Reiki was looking for more. She was looking for a sign—any sign at all—of intelligent behavior.
"They are moving quickly," noted Reiki. "And although they are destructive, they all seem to move along the same course together. They are not fighting with each other."
"You're right," agreed Cinnamon. "Although they do attack any vegetation that is in their way. They are moving pretty much straight upstream toward the upper lake, but they do make shortcuts through the jungle when they come to a meander in the river." Together the two old women followed the massive, stinking creatures, helping each other over the rocky moon-shadowed hillside trails that paralleled the valley floor, now full of danger. The humans had learned their lessons after the first swarming, and now their dwellings were built safely out of the path of the marauding Demonfish.
When the Demonfish finally reached Sulfur Lake and entered the water, their heavy tail muscles took over. Reiki and Cinnamon joined the others who had been waiting around the shoreline of the lake. Cinnamon looked clinically at the swarming Demonfish. With their thick matted coats of streaming red hair, the Demonfish could hardly be called graceful, but in their natural element they showed a strength and agility that was almost beautiful.
The torches that the humans had cached at positions around the lake were now taken out and lit. Flowers of light bloomed all around the lake shore, illuminating the scene taking place in the roiling waters. Even some of the Keejook stronglimbs held burning brands in the root-fingers of a well-extended limb, their fronds pulled well back from the flames. They knew that the distinction they would gain by being so close to fire would take the place of the battle honors they could have earned this night.
"With so many large fish in the lake, they are stirring up the mud," said Reiki, disappointed. "I can't see much of anything."
"They are thrashing their tails around in the pebble beds of the streams that lead into the lake," said Cinnamon slowly, "and it looks like some of the larger lake-fish are doing the same thing in the same places. It's almost—" she paused as what she was seeing began to make some sense "—it's almost as if they were both engaging in spawning behavior ..." She let the implications sink in.
"Spawning?" asked Reiki. "But we have seen no Demonfish young in the lake."
"No," said Cinnamon, "but there are lake-fish in the lake." Her thoughts were jumbled as various possibilities filled her mind.
"Lake-fish aren't anything like Demonfish," Reiki objected. "Besides the great difference in size, the lake-fish have six small fins along the side, while Demonfish have only two large legs at the front—legs with long sharp claws!"
"Besides that, the Demonfish have thick ugly red hair," added Richard, "while the lake-fish have a soft gray pelt. I agree with Reiki, they don't look anything alike."
"Well," replied Cinnamon. "Salmon fry look nothing like their parents either. The spawning male salmon develop huge jaws and sharp teeth ..." Her voice trailed off, for she wasn't sure either.
"I've been watching them carefully," interjected Nels. "The lake-fish always seem to visit a spot that a Demonfish has just left—just like a male fertilizing the eggs of a female. Maybe the lake-fish is the male and the Demonfish the female of the same species, even if they don't look anything alike."
"We've seen weirder pairs of mismatched mates," remarked Reiki. "Remember the icerugs and the coelasharks on Zulu?"
"There's one little problem," said Richard. "I can see how the baby male lake-fish get to Sulfur Lake—they are born here. But how do the baby female Demonfish get to the ocean? I've seen lots of fish in the river, but none that look like either a lake-fish or a Demonfish."
"Maybe they go downstream as small fry," suggested Nels.
"Wouldn't stand a chance," said Richard. "Either the fish in the river or the fish in the ocean would eat them up."
"How many would have to get to the ocean and survive, Cinnamon?" asked Reiki as she stared down at the swirling waters of the lake.
"Not many," Cinnamon conceded. "Only as many as come back upstream to spawn, I would guess."
"Look!" said Reiki, pointing. "Look at what they're doing now! That Demonfish is taking one of the larger lake-fish in its mouth!"
"It's not unusual for mating animals to devour each other after the eggs are fertilized," said Cinnamon.
"But they're not eating them—they're taking them into their mouths—being very careful not to bite them in the process."
"When we kill Demonfish," said the stronglimb Peebeek, "we find lake-fish inside mouth. Lake-fish is alive. Needs to be killed too."
"The Demonfish must be trying to take the lake-fish back to the ocean!" exclaimed Reiki.
"That would explain why they are willing to fight and bite on their way up to the lake, and yet never even open their mouths while the Jollys are attacking them on their way back!" said Cinnamon. "But that still sounds more like an animal following its breeding instincts than a thinking creature. I have yet to see any signs of intelligent behavior."
Reiki's spirits fell as she looked in vain for any evidence of Demonfish intelligence. As they watched, the ugly stinking creatures hauled themselves out of the lake and began the long slow march back to the ocean. With no danger of attack from the closed-mouthed Demonfish, the observers looked on with the professional detachment of scientists. It was clear that the attitude of the Demonfish had changed after their short swim in the freshwater lake. They had lost their frenzied purposefulness and were now moving off in a straight line, marching along the shortest route to the safety of the sea, each Demonfish keeping its mouth tightly closed. The deadly rage that had given the huge fish the veneer of cunning was gone, and they now moved like slow-witted farm animals seeking the shelter of the barn.
PRECISE Talker was feeling calmer now, although extremely tired, for the climb up the riverbed to the lake had been exhausting. Her belly, relieved of its burden of eggs, no longer had that bloated, stretched feeling. All over her body, her hair was itching! As she crawled over the sharper rocks in the streambed, she felt chunks of matted hair coming loose and staying behind. But her mind hardly noticed these external bodily feelings, for glowing deep within her came an intense pleasure from having Baby in her mouth.
As she started down the streambed, she alerted her lookers to keep a close watch in all directions, for she must protect Baby at all costs! This was now the dangerous time, when the Demontrees attacked with their impaling spears, and the Swiftmovers struck fiercely with their sharp, brain-piercing weapons. Her lookers reported many Demontrees nearby, but they were staying at a distance instead of laying traps with pointed spears ahead of her. The lookers also reported the close approach of some agile Swiftmovers—but they too didn't attack. Precise Talker was bewildered by this behavior. Because she had been on many swarmings before, and was familiar with the hormonal feelings that were driving her body back to the ocean to assure the safety of Baby, she was able to temporarily shunt aside those bodily feelings and look objectively with her mind at the surroundview her lookers were building up.
The Swiftmovers were very strange creatures indeed. They only had four limbs and walked about rapidly on two limbs while carrying tools and weapons in their other two limbs, since they had no grabbers for that task. One tool gave off light, somewhat like a glowworm cage, but much brighter. Since the Swiftmovers could control light, they must be extremely intelligent, unlike the Demontrees, who were mere savages. Each Swiftmover had two lookers, but the lookers stayed in their heads instead of flying around like the lookers on the Demontrees. This meant that to look at things up close, the Swiftmove
rs had to bring their bodies near to what they were looking at. The Swiftmovers seemed very interested in Precise Talker and the others, and followed them closely as they went downstream.
Most importantly, however, the Swiftmovers were not attacking them this time. The Swiftmovers also must have used their superior intelligence to keep the Demontree savages from attacking. Previously, the Demontrees had always engaged in a bloody killing frenzy at the end of the swarming. Precise Talker was most grateful to the Swiftmovers. For once, the dreadful carnage that ensued during each swarming would not be inflicted on the Swimming. For once, the joy of new Babies being brought home would not be dimmed by the sorrow of the ones who had been lost—slaughtered—along with their helpless Babies, by the terrible six-legged Demontrees.
Precise Talker wanted to thank the Swiftmovers—to tell them how much she appreciated their kindness—but she couldn't think of a way to do it. The Swiftmovers lived on the land while she lived in the ocean. There was no way that she could communicate with them. Even if she could understand the language of the smells they used for communication, she couldn't smell what they were saying because the smellers on her grabbers were inside her mouth, and she couldn't open her mouth without fear of losing Baby.
It was some time later, while crawling over a band of pebbles on the upper slopes of the ocean beach, that it finally occurred to Precise Talker how she might be able to communicate with the Swiftmovers. She wouldn't be able to say much to them this time, for her primary concern was to get Baby safely home. She hoped, however, to let the Swiftmovers know that she recognized them as beings with intelligence and perhaps even a soul, not single-minded animalistic butchers like the Demontrees. Perhaps, later, she would attempt to communicate with them again. She was bemused by the thought. It would be intellectually stimulating—trying to compile a new smell dictionary of how the Swiftmovers talked. It would be almost as mentally and spiritually challenging as finding a new prime number.
As Precise Talker slid into the welcoming waves at the shoreline, her lookers reported that two of the Swiftmovers had followed her down the beach and were watching her closely. So, instead of dipping off into the safety of the ocean depths, she turned around in the shallow water. Opening her mouth just slightly, so as to keep Baby safe inside, she sent out a grabber with instructions. The task she had given the grabber was complicated, but the grabber had carried out that task countless times before. As the next wave moved up the beach and over the band of pebbles, the grabber followed the wave in, picked up a number of pebbles in its suction tentacles, and returned on the backwash with the load of pebbles. Then, on a clear band of sand in the shallow water, it proceeded to Tell 29.
THE HUMANS followed the contingent of returning Demonfish as they swam down the river and crossed the broad delta of sand and pebbles to get to the ocean, where most of the Demonfish quickly vanished into deep water. The flouwen, who had been waiting offshore, followed the Demonfish down into the ocean depths in an attempt to see where they were going.
Reiki and Cinnamon, who were tracking the path of the largest Demonfish, were surprised to see that this Demonfish didn't leave immediately like the others did. Instead, it floated for a while in the shallows of the ebbing tide, as if looking at them out from under the matted hair that covered its head. As Cinnamon and Reiki kept an expectant eye on the Demonfish, wondering what it would do next, Cinnamon noticed a small fish dart about briefly in the waves. The small fish disappeared in the direction of the Demonfish and the Demonfish finally left.
"Well, that's that," said Cinnamon. "We've observed the Demonfish, and we've managed to learn something about them and their breeding habits, but we still haven't found the mysterious authors of that stone tablet. The Demonfish are certainly not the authors—they didn't show a single sign of intelligence." She paused and sighed. "I guess it shouldn't really surprise me. On Earth, the great white sharks are at the top of their food chain, but they are nothing but eating machines—no intelligence at all. It must be one of the prey animals of the Demonfish that are the intelligent ones that wrote the tablet. I wonder if we will ever find out who they are?"
Reiki sighed. "I suppose that there is no reason to stop the Keejook from hunting the Demonfish at the next spawning. I only hope that I haven't spoiled all the nobility the Keejook Elders managed to generate about what was really only a formalized gathering of a local crop."
"Yeah," agreed Cinnamon. "The Jollys have managed to build up practically an entire religion over the ritualized slaughter of a bunch of love-crazed fish." Suddenly, she spotted something in the water. She walked quickly down over the wet sand to where the final Demonfish had lingered. The extreme high tide was still retreating. As it pulled back, it revealed six small piles of pebbles, lying side-by-side on a clear band of sand. Cinnamon fell on her knees and pushed the smooth stones with one finger. Then she laughed out loud.
"Loved-crazed fish, did I say?!" she sang. "Since when have mere fish done something like this? Look, Reiki!" She counted the stones in each pile, and as the pattern built, Reiki started counting along. "One. Two. Three. Five. Seven. Eleven ... The first six prime numbers!"
Reiki thought for a moment, calculating in her head, then added her conclusion. " And their sum is twenty-nine! Another prime number!"
INTERPRETERS
THE NEXT day, the flouwen, Jollys, and humans met again at the dock on Wide Pond to discuss what they had learned about the Demonfish during the previous night. There was a light rain, so Cinnamon, Reiki, Shannon, and Eve came in under the sheltering fronds of Chief Seetoo and Assistant Chief Tookee and sat on the "knee" bends of the giant trees, leaving Nels, Richard, Adam, Dirk, and Freeman standing outside in the drizzle. Some of the second-born were also there, riding on the Littles, who had their eyes up on colored pseudopods. On the opposite shore of the pond, Cool Blue Trill and Warm Chirring Pink, their bodies busily converting their morning dose of pee into pure ammonia, were playing a noisy game of "keep-away" with some of the other human youngsters.
Little White was explaining to the assemblage what he and Little Red had observed as they had tracked the Demonfish back into the depths of the ocean.
"... and as they swam through the sea, huge chunks of hair came off in the water."
"Hard to see them!" said Little Red. "Fluffy stuff eat up echoes!"
"But Demonfish continued down, deep into ocean, shedding hair as they swam. Soon they were nearly hairless. We could now see, in addition to the two large crawling legs up front, two smaller swimming fins along each side. When the Demonfish reach bottom, they were met by many deep-ocean sharks, similar to one that nearly ate Little Red ..."
"I nearly eat IT!" protested Little Red.
"I expect fight to start between deep-ocean sharks and Demonfish. Instead, each sent out gatherfish and eyefish that touched and looked at each other without fighting. The Demonfish then opened their mouths and the lake-fish swam out. All then merged into a big group swimming along together, the small lake-fish at the center, the larger deep-ocean sharks around them, and the very large Demonfish following along behind. Except for larger size and longer front legs, Demonfish look very much like deep-ocean sharks."
"Insides see same, too!" added Little Red. "Same bones. Same nothing-holes."
"See insides ?" queried Tookee, fronds shaking in puzzlement. The motion sent a small shower of drops down on Eve and Reiki.
"The flouwen use sound to see with," Reiki explained to the Jolly. "They can see the bones and air holes inside a creature in the sea. If both species have similar internal as well as external arrangements, then they must be closely related, if not the same species."
"Hmm," said Cinnamon. "If you saw the Demonfish losing their hair after the swarming was over, then the hair is probably a temporary attribute that aids them during the spawning period."
"Thick hair would help keep their skin and eyes moist during their trek over dry land," suggested Nels.
"I wonder if the large front legs and t
he long claws are also temporary," added Cinnamon, "and that after the spawning period, the Demonfish revert to being deep-ocean sharks."
"This is beginning to sound like a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde movie," remarked Richard. "During the day we have the mild-mannered deep-ocean sharks that stay in caves at the bottom of the ocean and avoid contact. But when it is midnight, and the moon is full, they grow long hair, sprout claws, and swarm to the attack. Maybe they're not ordinary sharks, but were-sharks!"
A gatherer appeared in Tookee's opening mouth.
"That is a human term for an imaginary monster," Reiki whispered to the gatherer before it could ask its question.
"Little Red can make loudest noise," continued Little White. "So he makes noise good for looking inside something, while I make noise good for tracking movement. We both see both echoes. Learn many things. The deep-ocean sharks and Demonfish not only have same insides, they each have six gatherfish and six eyefish nested in same places in mouth and on head. Demonfish and sharks built much like Jolly."
"The Aaeesheesh are like us?" exclaimed Tookee in surprise. A nested eye fluttered from beneath Tookee's fronds and circled down to look at the clear eye-lens held up above Little White's body on a white pseudopod. The eye-lens tracked the flying eye as it circled, with the white pseudopod twisting around on its base four times before the eye returned to its nest.
"They have six free-swimming eyefish that live in sockets in their heads, just like the six free-flying eyebirds that nest in your fronds," said Little White. "And they have six free-swimming fish with grabbing tentacles that live in their mouths, like the six gatherers that live in your mouths."
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