Chapter Thirty of my current wip. As before, all and any comments very much appreciated

Please note: This is a weekly post

Back at base Jess woke to horrific screams, frantic they were, full of denial. Not exactly the usual dawn calls from the forest. Louder. And Jess could only discern the one voice. Not a troop of noisy monkeys then. Besides, it wasn’t yet dawn. Jess grabbed his stun-gun.

He’d not been the only one called from their sleep. The base buzzed with chatter, stun-guns in every hand. But though Jess scanned the base he could see no intruder. Maybe hidden behind a hive?

Antel emerged from the hive he shared with Zeke, Brib and Miax. None of those held stunners.

“Put your weapons away.” Antel accompanied his shouted words with calming motions. “No invasion, not under attack.” He turned to Jess. “He’s conscious now if you want to speak with him.”

Jess turned back to his clutch. “You heard. All this commotion, that’s just Canipse regaining consciousness. Take that as a warning, anyone else thinking of pointing their stun-gun at their head. Bed. Sleep.”

The previous morning at the cave, after Antel had examined Canipse and declared him alive, the Banmakka hunters had melted away. Not foolish enough to risk a return through the forest until the sun was fully risen, Jess and his team stayed in the cave with Canipse. But even in daylight to negotiate that trail wasn’t easy. They numbered four – how they’d have managed with less, Jess didn’t want to think. As for that precipitous track up to the farm, Jess hoped never to repeat that experience. But at least they didn’t encounter predatory cats, nor disturbed disgruntled boars and snakes.

Kookka took one flier, Dorsin with him. Jess took the other with Antel and the miraculously still-unconscious Canipse. Arrived back at base the catering overseer still hadn’t recovered.

“Why?” Jess wanted to know. “When we take down an attacking animal it recovers faster than this, though it might be ten times the size of Canipse.”

“I don’t know for certain,” Antel said. “But I can guess. Those stun-guns always remain charged, yea? And usually in close proximity to the Techs? That suggests that, as with the psi-lights, they’re psi-powered. And I’d say that without the Techs, they draw their charge from us instead – at least from those who can fly.”

After those few words, Jess had left Kookka and the medic to settle Canipse into Antel’s bed. Jess had objected to Antel’s offer of his hive. But the overseer would need continuous observation until he’d recovered and where better than there.

Now with caution, Jess entered the medic’s bed-cell. Canipse’s throat must have been strained from his screams for now they’d subsided to croaks. He thrashed, eyes open, gaze lifeless. Conscious he might be but… Jess turned to Antel. “Where is he?”

“At a guess? The psi-sphere.”

Jess stared at Antel, for a moment agape. “The stunner sent him there?” He closed his eyes and tried to think, to logic it out. But though he’d the study and training of mineralogy and metallurgy, he hadn’t the years of studying life-forms that was Antel’s training and his ongoing interest.

“My guess is the stunner created a loop.”

“But he wouldn’t open to the psi-sphere.”

“Forced a loop?” Antel amended.

Jess looked around him, as if he’d find answers scribed on Antel’s wall. “What do we do with him? He can’t remain in your bed. And we’ll have to find someone to…to feed him and do. That’ll have to be one of his operatives. Will he recover, do you think?”

“I’m not a Fire-keeper.” Antel scooped the bedcover from the floor where Canipse with his thrashes had thrown it. “Let’s just arrange his care – before he pisses the bed. My bed. He doesn’t smell too sweet as it is.”

Canipse’s home-hive was Number Five, shared with Guul and Azal, the textile and domestic overseers, and the ‘liaison operative’, Inchat. Liaison operative was an ancient and obscure designation whose origin was lost to the wideness of the universe. Within the GM Programme, liaison operatives served wherever needed in whatever capacity. Despite the evidence of Joel to the contrary, Jess thought of them as unskilled general workers.

“We’ll take Canipse to his own place, and swap Inchat with Dov,” Jess decided. Dov was a healer who served Antel when needed but otherwise worked alone. He’d be ideal. “As to a replacement overseer…?” Without pulling someone from the farms, there was really only Mavlin, from Hive Six.

“Enjoy playing Tech?”

Jess ignored Antel’s jibe. “Let me know the moment there’s any chance of getting any sense from him.”

*

Jess hadn’t been able to sleep after that disturbance. He spent the rest of the night and into morning writing reports. The report on Canipse, the Banmakka and the cave took the longest. He didn’t know when his reports would reach the eyes of a Tech, but he’d rather be prepared.

Reports written, Jess called Mavlin to his hive. Despite his initial doubts as to the wisdom of appointing Mavlin to catering overseer, during their chat Mavlin showed himself capable. He had farmwork experience, wasn’t averse to the digging and hoeing, and could cook.

“How long have you been with the GM Programme?”

“My fifteenth assignment.” He had a slight lisp, lacking two front teeth.

“Then it’s time you were promoted.”

“As at every assignment I’ve hoped.”

When Jess looked in query at him, he added, “Techs don’t like me.”

Again, Jess looked in query at him. “We were assigned as cooks, sister and me. A chemical processing place. We refused to cook what they gave us.”

“Which was?” Jess asked but Mavlin refused to answer. Jess left it. “Well, if you perform at your best and impress me, we could make this a permanent post.” He was reluctant to allow Canipse back into the privileged position. “At least until the Techs catch up with us.”

The workday done and still no news of Canipse, Jess hooked his favourite drum from the corner near his cell door and settled into the comfort of his hive’s soft seat.

His favourite drum – it was his largest. Tall rather than chunky. It had taken him three years to craft it, another year to treat the skin for its head and to set it tight. It had a good tone from curb to centre. Maybe it couldn’t transport him to the Animosphere like Kookka’s harp, but at times it took him into the psi-sphere and at the very least it helped unwrap the tight threads of tension that too often of late bound him at day’s end.

He was lost to the taps and the rhythms. The rain pattering the roof, the heavy sound of the four-footed hive-sized dlangi on the run. Cela-Byi’s light gasps as she laughed. He stopped drumming. Cela-Byi. He had left her in that cave, an outcast of her dow. He ought to return and ensure her safety. If anything happened…he was responsible.

“You didn’t have to stop just for me,” Kookka’s deep voice crept in from the door.

Jess covered the moment with a laugh. “Resting my hands. Too much drumming gives you calluses.” He waved his hands as evidence.

“First time I’ve heard that. More like you were somewhere and I called you back. But since you are back –” he held up a black distended bladder “– our precious Saker has been brewing, again.”

“In which case, best you come in. Take a seat. But haven’t you brought your harp?”

Kookka settled beside Jess, his legs still pressed against the monster-drum. “I thought we might talk.”

“Of things that can’t be said while Techs are near?”

Kookka passed the bladder to Jess. “Techs and others. I’m thinking this could be the place.”

Jess didn’t immediately answer but allowed the bladder to squirt a cold sweet liquid into his mouth. That first mouthful left a bitter aftertaste. But Jess had experienced Saker’s brews before and knew the second mouthful would chase that away.

He passed the bladder back to Kookka. “I agree it’s the best place any has ever looked. But the very thing that makes us say that is the very thing that makes me hesitate.”

“Because you’re the zem?”

“Without those Techs I’m now fully responsible for the clutch.”

“We could leave it till the final year. Schedules and routines in place, any problems arising sorted. Everything smooth as my chin.” Kookka caressed his jaw.

“And that’s the other thing.” Jess held his hand out for the brew-bladder. He hadn’t wanted to discuss this yet but now Kookka had broached the subject…“You say everything will be smooth running, but there’s been contact at Hives Seven and Eight. How long before the operatives there are driven to…” he couldn’t say it.

“Mate?” Kookka supplied the word.

“And die? Kookka, this clutch is on course to destruction. I took Joel, Zeke, Saker and Brib with me to sort that problem with Poalt. So, it was a Banmakka female, not from our breed-pool. But born of an Itamakku mother? Hear what I’m saying?”

Kookka took the brew-bladder out of Jess’s wildly gesticulating hands. “All the more reason to make this the place. Could be the only way we survive. You might think about that.”

But Jess didn’t want to think. He slammed his hands across the tall drum’s head and beat out an angry tattoo.

To continue next Monday

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