crispina kemp

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

Please note: This is a weekly post

The door of Hive One was up, yet no sign of Armar. Too weary to worry about that, Jess pulled down the door behind him and flaked out on the deep seat. It had taken Brib, Zeke and Saker just two sessions to understand, enter, adjust, and become confident and competent in the psi-sphere. Armar had then added them to the fly-rota. Dorsin, too, had quickly adapted. But not Canipse.

Jess slowly released a deep quarried breath, his palms to his now-noticeably bearded cheeks, his fingers to his brows to massage away the tension. With his hands then flopped to rest on the seat beside him, his eyes sought the succour of…what? The gods? The Itamakku spoke of them, even thought Jess was one of them. The Techs too, they quoted beings in the Animosphere said to be gods. But not the Monza, they had no recourse to such higher beings. Alone in the universe. Unless, of course, they counted the Techs.

But this was avoidance. That’s what the Fire-keepers would say. Thinking irrelevant thoughts because the relevant thoughts seem unthinkable.

And that brought him back to Canipse. His observers had been up and flying after just two sessions, while six sessions later and Canipse still couldn’t connect with the psi-sphere. Something was holding him back. Fear, it had to be. Canipse didn’t want to enter the psi-sphere, afraid of what he’d find there.

Oh, and now you’re a Fire-keeper, all knowledgeable.

No, but it figured. Canipse had wheedled his way into the training. He wanted the control of a flier; he probably thought then he’d fly away to one of the other clutches, Seven or Eight being nearest, and fetch back a replacement Tech. But if that was his motivation, why wasn’t he able to enter the psi-sphere? What that catering overseer needed was time spent with the Fire-keepers. Or ought that to be more time? They’d help him enter the psi-sphere and face his fears.

“Short-sighted Techs, wanting everything in their sole control,” Jess let out a sub-vocal rant. “Never a record available to us. Every new team observing the breed-pool afresh, no previous to build on.”  If he had access to records he’d be better able to judge what was wrong with Canipse.

Fear. But was it a wonder. Except for time spent on Colabri with the Fire-keepers this would be the first time most of the team, maybe all of them, had been without the Techs’ intrusion and control. He imagined they must feel like they were floundering, maybe losing their sanity. And now with the Itamakku and Banmakka ignoring the holos…

Jess allowed his thoughts to wander. A welcome relief after working with Canipse. What species were they, the Fire-keepers? They had the same mind-to-mind communications as the Techs and were easily able to enter the psi-sphere. But they wouldn’t allow the Techs a step beyond the landing bays. As to their appearance, Jess had never seen them.

He’d seen no one for the first ten days after arrival. Ten days alone in a cabin on a shore overlooking a green sea, food, water, and ablutions delivered by hands unseen while he slept. Later, he’d discovered those hands belonged to female Imms. At the time he’d thought those females accompanied by their twins, such was the usual Monza way. But maybe not. Ten days, by which time he’d thought himself crazy-headed, one charge short of an explosion. And that was the Fire-keepers’ intention. Ten days to clear the Techs from the Monza mind.

No Monza admitted they’d been to Colabri. And why would they, when it was to admit the Techs had scoped them up and dropped them there. For therapy. For counselling. To amend their behaviour. To create Monzas that the Techs could use again. For the Fire-keepers taught the Monzas in their care how to maintain stability when they were returned to the Tech-dominated endosphere.

It wasn’t until his second observer assignment that Jess realised all the Monza members of the GM Programme were single males. All bereft of their twins. That was the key, that’s how Jess figured it.

Monzas were twins, male and female. They suckled together, studied together, were assigned occupations together though maybe not doing the exact same job. He and Jilly had studied minerals, then he had worked as a metallurgist while she worked alongside him in data management. But he couldn’t return to that because…Jilly was dead.

There could be no greater trauma than the death of a twin. To be split apart. No longer whole. To live with a void within. Then to realise you can’t work as you did before.

But the kindly thoughtful considerate resourceful Techs reassigned newly-bereaved single male Monzas to the GM Programme, though not necessarily within a clutch. The STC-Transporters carried Monza caterers and domestics. And somewhere were textile operatives in Tech-manufactories turning out the Tech-issue clothing all Monza wore on the GM Programme.

This, Jess now reasoned, was why the observers took so easily to control of the fliers. They had all encountered the psi-sphere while on Colabri. It was part of the treatment, to quieten the raging rebel, to make them more malleable. Those Fire-keepers had a high success rate.

Jess looked up again at the non-existent gods’ domain, “Oh yea, we’ve learned to swallow it, to package it and keep it safely stowed so we’re no longer a danger to the Techs.”

Was this the truth? Every Monza member of the GM Programme a rabid rebel, snarling for the death of the Techs, for the Techs were responsible for the deaths of their sisters.

There were no Techs at the base, not anymore. That’s why he could think his thoughts, why he didn’t have to squash them and hide them. And if that applied to him, it must apply to the others as well. He wondered what their stories, how their twins had died, how obvious had been the Techs’ involvement. The Monza males kept those details close. He didn’t even know Kookka’s story, though anyway Kookka wasn’t much of a one for talk.

Relax. Allow your thoughts to range. The answers will come to you faster that way.

He had no choice but to allow his thoughts free range, too weary to guide them. But why these memories of Colabri? But of course, because of Canipse. Canipse had been on Colabri. Every member of the GM Programme had visited Colabri. It figured, He had reasoned that one long ago. But then had packed it away so the Techs wouldn’t find it. Though why he didn’t want the Techs to find it…? He didn’t want the Techs to find anything in his head.

“I know nothing about you,” he’d complained to Canipse. “That doesn’t make it easy to help you.”

“What do you need to know? I cook.”

“And collect stones?”

Canipse had looked away.

“What do you do with those stones? Use them to build walls? I can’t see you lugging them from assignment to assignment.”

Canipse had looked up sharply at the mention of building a wall. Now Jess wondered if he’d touched on a truth.

“Six sessions,” he’d told him. “Six sessions when both you and I could and should be doing other things. I can waste no more time on you. The next session – tomorrow – you’re into the psi-sphere, even if I have to knock you unconscious to get you there. Thereafter, you’re taking no more of my time.”

*

There was no one waiting for Jess when he arrived at the Techs’ hive the next morning. No Canipse. He sat on the Techs’ functional but uncomfortable chair near to the door, the screen left up. And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

No Canipse.

So that was it, he had decided rather than to face whatever scared him in the psi-sphere he’d leave the fliers alone. Which in turn meant he was no longer intent on fetching a replacement Tech. That pleased Jess – so long as there were no more intrusive Sankis. All other problems he was confident of handling.

“Our persistent stirrer has decided not to fly,” Jess told Armar when he returned to Hive One. “Which means you’re free to go observe.”

“You want me to do a pass of Toki-dow?” his deputy raised a knowing brow.

It would be pointless to ask Armar to check out if Cela-Byi had returned to the dow, and if so, had the Itamakku accepted her. How was Armar to recognise her when they’d never met? Ah, the one with the dragon skins, of course. Except by now she might have shed them.

“Hover a while. Record what’s happening, no matter how inconsequential.” Jess didn’t need to add that, Armar was as experienced as himself. It was his concern for Cela-Byi speaking.

“The exciting daily routines of an obs.” Armar slapped Jess on his shoulder as he left their hive.

Jess settled himself at the table to read through Armar’s reports, eight days’ worth made in his absence.

No further mention of Poalt and his hankering for a female, Itamakku or Banmakka. Poalt obviously valued his life. Though with his maturity triggered, Jess didn’t know how long that might last. He wasn’t unaware of what was happening with himself. If he’d not been responsible for this clutch, his resolve might have weakened, and he’d now be burying himself deep into Cela-Byi. To die.

He slapped that thought out of his head before it could gain a hold. But too late; images were rolling through him, again stirring the want in him. He brushed those away too and instead saw a flurry of images – of monkeys, deer, boars and their like, all merrily plunging into their respective mates. He blanked those thoughts and instead the memory sprang at him of freeing the Banmakka female from Poalt’s bindings. He had seen too much. Far from arousing him further, it repulsed him. He squeezed his eyes tight.

Back to the reports.

But how to focus when Cela-Byi claimed all his attention. He longed to touch. Simply that, to touch her again. And to be in her company. To talk. To discover more about her. He flicked his head back. That wasn’t selfish of him, for to learn about Cela-Byi was also to learn about the Itamakku. And that’s why he was here, why his clutch was here. Wasn’t it.

Well, according to the Techs, it was. But what if chance had given him a place. And that was a thought he’d not dared to think since leaving Colabri. Kookka too, aware of the potential with his nods, his head-tilts, the barely perceptible gestures.

The sun had passed overhead and now was descending into the west when Armar returned.

“All well?”

“At the dow. But at Hive Eight, no.”

“Why? What’s up?”

Whatever the news, Armar seemed to struggle to find the words. He returned to his ‘report’ on Toki-dow. “All was well there. Quiet. A normal day. But I thought it a wise move after the problems – Poalt, and the Banmakka attack – to take the flier across to the farms. All was well at Hive Seven. But there was a flier at Eight which shouldn’t have been there.”

“Canipse? I should have checked the log while I was waiting for him.”

“Would’ve done you no good,” Armar said. “I checked just now when I came in. Nothing.”

Jess jumped up, but without purpose. “Then who took it? Not one of our obs, they’d never lift a flier without filling the log. They know we need to know where they are. That leaves—”

“Dorsin, yea.” Armar’s face softened. “But I wouldn’t blame him. He couldn’t refuse an overseer, even if this one wasn’t his own.”

“Then it was Canipse.” Jess snarled the name. “That’s why he didn’t turn up for his session. But where’s he now?”

“That’s the problem. We don’t know. Dorsin says he just walked away. Out of the farm, heading for the perimeter. Dorsin waited but…no return. He couldn’t go look in case whatever had happened to Canipse also happened to him. Then the flier would be stranded at Hive Eight and with it not being logged, we wouldn’t know.”

Jess huffed, arms wrapped around his body. “Canipse, always Canipse. Though…maybe he’s wandered off in search of his wretched stones. But if something’s then happened to him…and that’s why he hasn’t returned.”

“It might prove useful if you come look for him. You speak the language.”

“You think the Itamakku have taken him?”

“Itamakku, Banmakka, one of them.”

Jess agreed, it was the best thing. But he’d no intention of going alone. “Right, where’s Kookka? And we might need Antel too?”

It was late in the day to be flying out to the farm. But Jess was reluctant to leave it till the morning. While waiting for Kookka and Antel to join him, he equipped the flier with psi-lights. How many would they need? He reckoned four. He’d have Dorsin remain with the fliers in case the rescue party also failed to return. The fourth psi-light would be for Tarad. Jess hoped the farm worker could use it. If he’d reasoned it right, there wasn’t a member of the GM Programme who hadn’t spent time on Colabri, and that meant most were familiar with the psi-sphere. Even if, as with Canipse, they preferred to forget it.

Continues next Monday

Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed

Please do leave a comment

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

Please note: This is a weekly post

Jess had a problem. The Techs’ hive beside the fly-port had insufficient space for the five would-be fliers he was to instruct that morning. He could move to another hive. But which one? He shared his with Armar and Armar would freak if anything happened to his harp. Besides, could he trust Canipse not to snoop into the report folders? But what other hives were available for use? The only solution was to arrange the novices into two groups and instruct each group separately. He’d start with Zeke, Saker and Brib, who being observers were used to the fliers and ought to take to it like birds to the air.

“Then Canipse and Dorsin, we’ll start yours tomorrow.”

Canipse said, “No, you can start on my instruction today. And I’d prefer not to be grouped with Zeke and Saker.”

Jess clamped his jaw, inhaled slowly through his nose, his chest inflating high, and worked at keeping his fingers relaxed. “It makes not a grip of difference who if anyone trains at the same time. There’s no interaction. Those with the talent will perfect their skill in the psi-sphere.”

“You misunderstand me.” Canipse made no move to leave but gave a sniff and uptilted his head. “Ask Zeke and Saker what they do when not ‘observing’ for you.”

“I know what they do, and what’s that to do with you?”

“Canny-Canipse’s afraid we’ll get into his head while he’s away in the psi-sphere and siphon off some of his recipes,” Zeke snarked.

Jess laughed. “No, Canipse, I shan’t be telling you or anyone else how to sneak into a person’s unconsciousness. I shall be instructing purely in how to control a flier by using the psi-sphere. But since it worries you, I’ll instruct you and Dorsin today, and my team tomorrow. Does that suit?” He didn’t wait for Canipse to respond but went on. “And now I’ve done something for you, you can do something for me.” And the sooner he had Canipse trained and out of the way, the better. Never had he met a pernicketier Monza, as if birthed by a Tech. “But first, tell me, how much surplus do your farms produce? I’m thinking for now just of the tubers.”

“And how am I supposed to know that? Crops in the field, we won’t harvest tubers till the next moon cycle. Earliest.”

“But the preevos left you records?”

“Which the Techs keep. Call yourself zem, you should know it. My records stay with me, the preevos’ go to the Techs.”

Canipse was right, Jess should have known it. But easy enough to recover and get his plan back on course. “But as overseer you must know the acreage put to tubers, and the potential yield? And as the head caterer you know the quantity of tubers you’ll need to keep us all fed. Can’t you calculate that in your head? If not – Zeke, find our caterer some paper. The Techs must have a store of it somewhere around here.”

“I can do it,” Canipse snapped. “It’ll…it’ll…” His face took the look of the fierce red flowers that now adorned the forest trees, his golden hair a replication of the flowers’ stamens. That face opened up with his jaw slumped low. “Our preevos must have planted too much. We’ll have a fifty percent excess yield – barring disasters.”

Yet Canipse had told the Techs, and Jess, that the harvests were too sparse to feed the clutch, which is why the operatives had to forage beyond the perimeter despite Jess and the Techs had said not.

“An oversight by the Techs?” Jess arched a brow as he faced off with the Techs’ staunchest supporter.

Canipse waved his hands, like batting a fly.

“And might you know what usually happens to this excess?”

Again, Canipse stuttered and flustered. “All I can say is there’s no sign of any excess tubers in store.”

“So, what are you saying?” Jess asked, genuinely curious. “That the Techs take it? To where? How? These fliers haven’t any great range.”

“Perhaps a long-range lander?” Saker suggested.

But this was his sixth stint as a zem, his twelfth as an observer, and in all that time Jess had never seen a long-range craft arrive at a base-camp other than at the end of the twenty years when the clutch were collected and transferred to the STC-Transporter.

“Well,” he said, “whatever the Techs did in previous years, this is what we’re going to do now. We’re going to set aside the excess tubers and from half of those surplus tubers we’re going to feed the Banmakka.”

Jess waited for the explosion. But Canipse said nothing, just looked at Jess as if the zem were empty headed. No, Jess was not. Already the overseer of the clutch, he now was overseer of the entire region covered by that clutch. In effect, he was the Tech. But unlike the Techs who worked as clusters, Jess was a Tech alone. No one to consult, to discuss, to agree.

But what if a replacement Tech arrived in a lander? One, or three. Yet maybe he was doing exactly the same as the Techs would have done. Indeed, they had done. They’d set a high yield with the intention of feeding the Banmakka. God-given. But the Banmakka hadn’t been fed this season and so they’d collected it for themselves.

But that didn’t explain the spear thrown at Tarad. Had the Techs taught them that behaviour by hurling a ‘god-spear’, stunning them and bringing them down?

Confusion raddled his head with this seeking out threads and unravelling them.

“And how do we feed these…animals?” Canipse asked. “Are you telling me to send my operatives far beyond the perimeter – in transgression of the Techs’ unyielding rule?”

Jess raised his brows in unspoken challenge, no need to mention the present and regular transgression. Canipse stared back, apparently unflinching except for the red creeping up from his neck.

“But you will have use of a flier,” Jess broke the tension. “And the ability to control it. You can deliver the food far from the farm. That way there need be no more trespass, no more thefts.”

Canipse jumped at that. “There has not—”

“Oh, but there has. Did you not see Shelek bring Tarad in? Antel attended his wound – inflicted by a Banmakka who was standing guard for a raiding party. But no, you wouldn’t have noticed for you were busy stirring up discontent.”

“I—”

“You shall do as I ask. And I shall be writing a report – against the day replacement Techs arrive. Agreed?”

Canipse pursed his mouth but did agree it.

“Right. Saker, Zeke, Brib, off you go. Go brew, bake, and – what is it you do, Brib, paint?”

“Studies of the plants that grow around the base,” Brib said.

“Well, thanks to Canipse, you’ve the entire day to indulge your pleasures. We’ll start your instruction tomorrow.”

And now to continue his tangle with Canipse. For Jess doubted that Canipse would easily release his grip on the lock to his thoughts.

To be continued next Monday

Hope you enjoyed

Comments appreciated