Chapter Twenty-Five of my current wip. As before, all and any comments very much appreciated
Please note: This is a weekly post
The hemp and cotton looked ready to harvest, doubtless sown by the outgoing workers. But what did Jess know about that. He wasn’t a Tech and increasingly he missed their input. He brought the flier low. Joel had offered to take the controls, but Jess wanted an overview of the farm before they landed. To west of the hive were the fields. Off to the eastern edge, the irrigation plant that Poalt had been so keen to show him – to keep him away from the hut he’d constructed, Jess realised that now. To the back of the hive were various sheds and stores. But the farm looked deserted.
Vezu, the catering operative, was probably away gathering fruit or setting snares. Jess ought to have told him not to do that outside of the farm because of the problem with the Itamakku females, but he’d given it no thought and additional food must be found. He’d tell the farmers out at Hive Eight to up their production, then gathering and snaring wouldn’t be needed. Of course, Canipse would object to what he’d consider interference, but safety must come first.
What about Eulal and Niapse? Probably in the processing or weaving sheds.
And Poalt?
But wherever they were, they’d hear the safety landing call.
“You know how it goes,” Jess said to his team before he released the door. “Those staffs you’ve found are aids to walking, nothing more. And keep the stunners tucked tight. My hunch has Poalt in that small hut. Regardless, we’re there first to release the female.”
“And we keep a distance?” Zeke asked. “We don’t want to catch it.”
For a moment Jess hung his head. “Distance makes no difference. You’re contaminated just by being here. And Eulal and Niapse and Vezu too. But I’m saying don’t cluster. Let’s not look like a threat. We’re observers, not Techs. Oh, and keep an eye out behind you. Poalt might not be in that hut, he could be in the irrigation plant.”
“We’ll keep our eyes keened,” Brib made light. “We are observers.”
Jess waited for Joel, Zeke, Saker and Brib to fan out behind him. Then gentled his fingers beneath the planed wooden plank of the door and pulled. Nothing to secure it, the exquisitely crafted locking devise left hanging.
“Oi, I told you—”
“What did you tell them, Poalt? Not that it matters – I want you out. Now. Saker,” Jess shouted back to his team, “tie him, securely.” They’d brought tough twine for the job. Ironic, when Hive Seven was the textiles farm.
It was dark in the hut, even with the door open, not easy to see. But he could see enough to know the abducted female was naked. Had Poalt taken her clothes, destroyed them maybe, or were they tucked somewhere inside the hut? He backed out of the hut and closed the door.
“Brib, run back to the hive, fetch us some clothes. Or if not clothes, a sheet, anything.” Jess had no intention of going back in until she was covered. He turned instead to Poalt.
“What do you think you’re doing? No wonder you didn’t want me to see inside your craft-hut when I visited. How long has she been here?”
“A few days.” Poalt jerked his head aside, a twitch of his shoulder. “She’s mine, my pet, you can’t take her away.”
“She’s part of the breeding pool.” Jess had to work at unclenching his fists. It wouldn’t do for Poalt to see him this angry, it would only encourage Poalt to be the same. “She’s the reason we’re on this planet. You can’t make her your pet.”
“And there you’re wrong.” Poalt brought his head up, a brief tug at his wrists now bound in front of him. “She’s not one of your skeins, not a Sanki. She’s an animal and if I want her as pet I shall have her.”
“Here!” Brib held out a bundled red cloth. He was panting from the run.
“I need a knife.” Jess held out his hand to the domestic operative.
Poalt raised his hands. “Sorry, as you see, they’re tied.”
Jess took the clothes from Brib. “Now search our friend here for a knife.”
It was soon found and delivered.
Now equipped, Jess returned to the hut. “I’m friend, I won’t hurt you,” he said in Itamakkuese. Maybe that wasn’t her skein, as Poalt had said, but she’d be more likely to recognise Itamakkuese as a familiar language than the Monza spoken by Poalt.
“Not look at me,” she answered in the same language.
“I’ve brought clothes.” He tossed them towards where her shadowy form huddled in the far corner. Poalt had it right, she wasn’t Itamakku, she was too dark. Though not as dark as Clutch Seven’s breed-pool as shown at the briefing. “I need to come close, to cut away those bindings.” Though he hadn’t yet seen the extent of them.
With a stretch she grabbed the clothes. But tied, she couldn’t put them on. Instead, she draped them over.
“You speak Itamakkuese?” If he spoke kindly to her, she might trust him and not associate him with Poalt’s brutality. “But Poalt says you’re not from their dows.”
“Banmakka. They stole bumping-mother. But mother dead now, gone to stars.”
He didn’t know what a bumping-mother was, not a term he’d found amongst the Itamakku, but didn’t query it. He wanted to tell her that he came from the stars too but thought it best to stick with star-spirit.
“If you’re covered, I’ll cut you free. But you mustn’t flee, not yet. First we speak.”
She shrank from him, sealing herself against the wall, despite now her nakedness was hidden. But closer, he realised why. To cut her free he had to ease away the cloth and that meant seeing parts he assumed the Banmakka, like the Itamakku, kept private. Not only that but to ensure he didn’t cut her along with the rope, he had to touch her. His stomach turned, that Poalt should string her up like this. He tried not to look beyond the need but couldn’t not notice she was formed unlike anything he’d seen. He understood why Poalt should think her an animal, her parts so alien when compared with their own.
As soon as free she slipped into the textile operative’s red suit. It hung loose on her. By the light from the open door, he could see her face was flushed darker. No doubt his resembled roasted fruit. His belly rebelled at the notion of doing that with her. He scoffed to himself: At least this encounter laid to rest any thoughts of mating with Cela-Byi.
“You have a name?”
“Li-Sae-ta,” she said and must have seen him frown. “Woman born to father’s Sae house.” Which wasn’t the same naming conventions as he’d found amongst the Itamakku.
“Li-Sae-ta,” he said, “did Poalt touch you?”
And what if he had? But he couldn’t have mated else he’d be dead.
“Star-man sniffs me.” And she demonstrated on Jess, sniffing his neck, his chest, his crotch. Jess tried to move but she moved too and kept on sniffing.
“Enough,” he said. “He sniffed but didn’t touch?”
“Not baby-bump. But he intended.”
“Baby-bump?” Jess had a feeling he oughtn’t to ask.
And he was right. She demonstrated.
“I no like baby-bump with other star-man. But you, you I like. You bump me, no other man bumps me. I your woman.”
Jess had no more questions for her, and he needed to get away. Despite his revulsion, beneath his crotch-cloth he was tingling with rising desire. If he knew how to stop it, he would, and fast. He’d not risk dying in her. If he must die it would be with Cela-Byi, the only female he’d felt halfway close to since his sister’s death.
A scream fetched him out of that hut, his immediate concern drowned in his relief. It had grown stifling hot and rigidly awkward in there. But he’d not expected the sight that greeted him.
The two textile operatives had joined his four observers to form a circle around Poalt. Poalt lay prone, his hands pinned beneath him.
“What’s this?”
Zeke held up his stun-gun.
Joel nodded to the unconscious domestic. “Eulal screamed when Zeke stunned him.”
“Why did you stun him? And while he’s out you can bind his ankles and knees.” That should have been done before but who amongst them was used to this?
Knelt beside the domestic, Zeke wound an abundance of twine around his lower limbs. “He disgusted me. Talking like that female was an animal: Feed it, pet it awhile, then kill it and eat it.”
Jess grimaced, a glance back at the hut.
“Poalt justified it by saying that’s what the Techs do, so why shouldn’t he,” said Saker.
“The Techs must eat,” Jess said. “So of course they keep animals to kill for food.”
“No,” Eulal said. “I’ve seen it on other planets. They take from the breed-pool for their own food. They don’t eat what we eat.”
“But…” Jess couldn’t speak beyond that, hearing again the spirit-woman, Skinned for food for the gods.
To be continued next week
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crispina kemp 