crispina kemp

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

Please note: This is a weekly post

Is this the scene you’ve been waiting for?

With every Monza he trained in flier-control, Jess drummed it into them that they must record their flight. Where were they going, why the need, and their expected return. Those of his obs team looked at him as if to say he was turning into a Tech. But he wasn’t. After his night in the swamp, he knew how important it was that someone at base knew where Monza and flier had gone. Though reluctant to advertise his destination and clue up those who’d no need to know his mission, yet Jess obediently filled in the Techs’ flight log. Hive Seven, to explore the caves in the immediate vicinity. He didn’t give a reason for the exploration, but Kookka, and probably Armar too, would know.

He shouldn’t have left it this long. Exiled from her dow, alone in the forest, a cave her only shelter…it didn’t matter how much he wanted to avoid her because he feared his own death, with his interference he could have brought about hers. It shouldn’t have taken the arrival of those two females from Toki-dow to stir his conscience. He had encountered their spirit-woman, Cela-Kuci, and had witnessed her hostility; he knew that she wanted Cela-Byi dead. Jealous, he supposed, and he could understand why.

Closer to the farmlands of Hive Seven, he traced a wide circle not to be seen by the resident operatives. Eulal and Niapse were backs bent in the furthest field; that suited him fine. He brought the flier down in the same grassy place he’d used when he’d brought Cela-Byi here. The cave’s entrance was a short climb up a gully to the west.

Everything from his heart to his groin felt in flux. Anxiety warred with anticipation. What if she wasn’t there? What defence had she against a hungry prowling forest cat? And what was he to say to her? He must relay Cela-Kuci’s message. But why hadn’t he thought to ask the females’ names? Because his head had been too full of fear for her.

As soon as he set foot in the cave a small dragon reared and hissed at him. His hand flew to his stun-gun.

“No!”

The distressed cry stayed his hand, his eyes wide in confusion. Had that cry come from the venomous dragon? No one had told him these dragons could speak. But the spoken Itamakkuese was a clue.

That cry had stayed the dragon too. It settled back, quiescent.

“Star-spirit Kija…” Cela-Byi’s voice rang out joyously from the depths of the cave. And before he could take another breath she had thrown herself into his arms, arms he had swiftly opened to accept her before she sent him flying. “You return.”

He’d forgotten how strong the want could be with her in his arms and the smell of her and the softness of her and the warmth and the pressing. He glanced across the cave at the small dragon. He sent a look back over his shoulder at the flier. Surrender would be most wonderful. To enter and die.

But he couldn’t. He must not. He was the zem and with the Techs gone the entire clutch was dependant on him.

He unclasped her hands from behind his waist and stepped away. He must not succumb, he must not. But what now was he to say? “There have been messengers at our camp. From Cela-Kuci. She wants you to return.”

“And I have found your message.” She clasped his hand and tugged. “But I don’t understand it. Come, I show. Then you say.”

What was he to do? He followed, bemused.

But what message was this? Not one from him for though he’d been on Ayin before that had been half a planet away. Who then had left a message here? A previous obs team? Or maybe – more likely – Cela-Byi was mistaken. He didn’t object, the distraction was welcome. To be in her company and yet not feel that compulsion to…mate.

Cela-Byi didn’t warn him of how difficult the passages nor how long this would take. Higher within the cave system, always climbing, never a step down. But it wasn’t ever dark for wherever there was space for it she had set fires. But the long stretches where he had to squeeze his body between the constricting rock walls, he had to work hard to hold down his panic. Were it not for techniques he’d learned on Colabri he’d have been scrabbing to find a way out of there. Worse still were the equally long passages where the only way through was to belly-crawl. Following her through these awkward places, he gave no thought to the sight in front of him, her bobbing bottom in those short dragon-skins. He sweated, but not from desire.

It was ironic, he wanted to tell her, that until he’d joined the GM Programme his entire life had been spent in caves, though none like this. As with all Monzas, he’d been born in one, though he’d no memory of that. He remembered the nursery though, with his twin and their milk-mother, sister of his dead father. That too was a cave. So too were the schools. Birth-chambers, nurseries, schools, they formed an extensive system within the caves that ranged for many days and nights, lit by psi-lights. Then having studied metallurgy, geology and mineralogy, he and his sister were taken to the mines on Kreegirn where his sister had died – because the Techs had sent her to work though she was ailing. Was it a wonder he hated the Techs.

“Here,” Cela-Byi announced as the tight passage opened into a wide cavern, amply lit by a fire. She opened her arms as if to embrace a scene drawn in black on the white limestone wall. “See?”

What a relief, he could finally breathe. And he did indeed see.

He folded his arms across his chest while he observed from a distance, preferring first to see it in its entirety. From that easy stance his left hand crept to his mouth until he realised he was sucking his thumb. As he told himself, it was the aftereffect of the panic. He drew his hand away. But his thumb returned, though not to suck, more to nibble, another old nursery habit.

“I see women…” All but one, and all fenced around. “Itamakku, are they?”

“I say this too,” she said.

“And these others…?”

“That’s you.” She used a stick to point to the tallest figure.

He could see why she’d think that. Like the figure, he was tall, much taller than the Itamakku. And his yellow jacket did make his chest and shoulders look square. Boxy, he’d say. But the figure in the drawing was not wearing pants. His genitals were displayed. And as with Jess whenever he as much as thought of Cela-Byi, there were clear signs of arousal. It was all Jess could do to keep his hands from touching, pressing, fondling that rapidly rising part. By every Pendoling Pit he wanted to bury himself in her body. He crossed his arms again and returned his attention to the drawing. There was more to this than a clutch of Monzas with erections. That other part bothered him. The three smaller figures with those lines connecting to the Monzas.

“Have you seen our Techs?” he asked Cela-Byi and pointed to them.

“The Techs?” She had to concentrate to pronounce this strange word. “These are your gods? Gods of the star-gods, this I understand. Spirits are everywhere. Everywhere, without number. But star-spirit-gods are only twelve. See?”

With the same stick she pointed to twelve pentagons above the figures, clearly intended to be fliers. Beside each were marks. Monza words? Jess moved closer to the drawing to inspect them. They could have been Monza words though not in the form used when making reports.

But then she named them. “You – Kija – Kerbi, Tawan, Sae, Kuca, Wael, Naba, Byi my dragon, Manula, Nozim, Tiki and Sarbi.”

He recognised the names as those given to Itamakku infants. But those given names were taken from their houses. Itamakku names, not Monza. The names of their families. “Ancestor gods?”

“Star-spirit-gods,” she said, as if to confirm. “And the…Techs, they are like the big gods that birthed the stars. Sand-Sky, Sun-Sky, Moon-Sky. And beyond the beyond, there is First Mother, Night Sky.”

Jess liked her logic. And perhaps it fitted in with the beliefs of the Itamakku. There was just one thing wrong with it. He took her hands and pulled her down to sit opposite him beside the fire. “Cela-Byi, I am not a star-spirit-god, not the spirit-deer. I am…” but the name of Monza would mean nothing to her. “I am from a land far away. Adamzal. My name is Jess. And neither are the Techs gods. They are…”

His mouth dried. His thoughts ceased. He didn’t know what the Techs were. Supposedly the same species as Monza. Yet apart from basic anatomy, they were nothing alike. They were masters of the psi-sphere. But not undisputed, though Jess would admit his inability to use the psi-sphere to traverse the universe and manipulate matter in the way the Techs did it. “They are our masters,” Jess said and didn’t like the feel of that.

Cela-Byi drew back, sat straight, and copied Jess’s crossed-arm stance. She stared at him, her brows lowered and tight, blocking the light reflected from the limestone ceiling to cast deep shadows over her eyes. “No. Adamzal isn’t a land far away. Adamzal is a place amongst the stars. I see you, I see you with hair ablaze like the sun and eyes aglow like the stars. You are a star-man. Maybe not Kija, but a star-man the same. And you came here for a reason. What is that reason? Like in that drawing on the wall, to take me?”

“But I’ve nowhere to take you.” Did she believe he could just whisk her off to the stars?

She upped to her feet and peeled away the dragon skins until she stood, a small distance from him, naked. “Take me. Don’t reject and disgrace me.”

Inside he was flummoxed, wanting everything he saw, yet knowing to take it would deliver his death.

“The drawing says it.” Her plaintive voice pulled at every part of his innards. “You, Adamzal star-man, brought me to this cave to see this drawing so I would know that you come here to bump me. Now take me, don’t reject me.”

Too stunned to speak, to move, he stood unyielding when she tugged at his hands. He did nothing to stop her; his jacket, pants, crotch-cloth, boots, every last item of clothing stripped from him. Her lips ensured he was ready, overcoming his fear of the resultant death. She held him close against her naked body and all thoughts deserted him. How did he know to do what he did? But this was bliss, to die like this.

Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed
For those readers who feel I’ve drawn the curtain too soon, I’ll satisfy you next week

Comments especially welcomed