Free Quofum by Alan Dean Foster Page B

headache. That concern was forgotten as soon as they got their first look at the source of the uproar.
    There was a war in progress.
    It was a limited war; limited by the number of participants as well as the primitive nature of the weapons they were employing. But a war nonetheless, with potentially grave and lethal consequences for all who were involved. A village was on fire. Actually, that was too sophisticated a definition for the community under siege, Tellenberg decided. It was more a cluster of slapdash huts crudely thrown together out of fallen leaves and scavenged wood. Still, it was home to those who were presently under attack.
    Even from the center of the river it was not difficult to sort out the combatants. The community was being defended by stick-jellies acting in concert with groups of fuzzies. Assailing them were lines of spikers. As if the odds did not already seem stacked against the defenders, the spikers had allies of their own. To the astonishment of the scientists, these comprised yet a fourth sentient species, as unrelated to the previously discovered three as the stick-jellies and the spikers were to humans and thranx.
    Averaging about a meter in height and almost as broad, these hard-shelled newcomers advanced slowly on twin muscular pseudopods. The stone axes they wielded at the ends of their short, stubby arms had very little reach. On the other hand, their armored bodies were impervious to the spears of the stick-jellies.
    The fuzzies had better luck against them. Rounded stones accelerated by throwing slings were capable of cracking the outer carapaces of the hardshells. Stone-headed clubs were able to bash in less heavily armored skulls. Meanwhile the stick-jellies showed surprising determination and agility in battling the spikers. Such confrontations looked uneven, until N’kosi pointed out that stones cast by the spikers simply slid off or lodged harmlessly in the stick-jellies’ bodies while spear thrusts had to strike a vital spot to do any damage at all. Relying on first impressions in combat, Tellenberg realized, was as dangerous and foolish as doing so in science.
    So preoccupied with the intense fighting were the combatants that they failed to notice the boatload of aliens that had by now halted in the middle of the river. Meanwhile more and more of the primitive shelters were going up in flames. On board the boat each of the scientists looked on in fascination, their recorders automatically preserving multiple accounts of the native confrontation. Except for an occasional whisper, no one on board said a word. Nor did they stop to wonder why they were whispering.
    It looked bad for the defenders of the village. Then, just when it seemed as if one more push by the attackers would overrun the community completely, the defenders counterattacked. From the woods to the north, a small horde of fuzzies erupted to pounce on the attackers’ flank. Taken completely by surprise and believing themselves on the verge of total victory, the spikers and hardshells suddenly found themselves assailed on two fronts. While stones rained down on the attackers, the stick-jellies rallied to hold the ground in the middle of the village, using the surviving structures to split and isolate their attackers’ lines.
    For the first time since they had come upon the battle, N’kosi raised his voice above a murmur. It prompted a collective clearing of throats from all on board. “Our first evidence that at least one of the species displaying sentience is capable of concocting advanced tactics.”
    “I don’t know that I would call them advanced.” Valnadireb was recording with a handheld unit in addition to the automatic that was mounted atop the right side of his b-thorax. “Although hardly my specialty, it would seem an obvious maneuver.”
    “To someone developed enough to understand the concept of maneuvering, yes.” Haviti was still sitting in the bow. Her legs hung over the side of the boat. Not