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The CentocculesOonah V Joslin © 2008
The place had seemed perfect on landing. Nitrogen, oxygen atmosphere - a little too much methane could be dealt with. Nitrogen fixing plants would improve the thin soil. Gaballa saw only possibilities. The new Sun struck her face and invigorated her hopes. Then a wind blew from the poles, and came the Centoccules.
There was no escaping them. One hundred eyes on the ends of one hundred limbs, propelled by one hundred wings - fifty pairs beating the air in perfect synchronicity. A hundred million years of evolution on this planetary sphere.
She was glad she’d packed the fly spray.
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