crispina kemp

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

Please note: This is a weekly post

Jess’s feet hit the grey rock of the emptied base at a run. His drums were stacked where Hive One had been and it was starting to rain. Shelek followed him to help him retrieve his gear, though without Jess’s haste. He was glad he arrived at those drums alone. Beside his favourite, the biggest, the beast, was the sun-baked spirit-carrier for his son – his probable son. Why had Cela-Byi left it behind when the Banmakka swept them away? Although it created a conspicuous bulge, he tucked it into a pocket.

Even while he and Shelek were ferrying the drums to the flier, he kept straining back in the hope of seeing his woman. Instead, he saw the Banmakka. Not many but more than a handful.

“Greetings. I’m told I owe you plenty gifts for your help when the Tech-gods came.”

One stepped forward – their headman? Feathers rose high from his head, as he’d seen with the Itamakku. “God-gifts oblige us to help. Now you leave us?”

Jess looked from the Banmakka towards the west where he figured the lander had taken his clutch. “I’ll be back,” he said, though it surprised him that he said it. “You keep Cela-Byi safe for me?”

“Spirit-woman safe with our women. We come to help more.”

Jess lowered his head in gratitude, though he couldn’t imagine how else they might help.

The Banmakka headman beckoned another to join him. That other beckoned to yet another, a youngster. “Dan-Cel-ta, our spirit-man. Itta-Cel, his boy.”

Dan-Cel-ta, the Banmakka spirit-man, glanced to where Shelek and Canipse were stacking Jess’s drums into the flier. “Those, spirit-drums?”

It was true, sometimes playing his drums did take him into the psi-sphere, rather like Kookka’s harp would take him into the animosphere. He nodded.

“When grey gods come, much activity in god-place. They draw power from there?”

Jess hadn’t joined the dots, but yea, it made some sense. He and his observers used the psi-sphere to control the fliers. Their stun-guns were powered by the psi-sphere, so too the psi-lights. For those who could access it, the psi-sphere was also a source of information; he’d downloaded Canipse’s map from there and would again enter to locate the Techs landing site. The psi-sphere permeated the universe and everything in it – including the Monza’s unprotected minds.

“Drums take seeker to that god-place,” Dan-Cel-ta said. “Cross-drums block way.”

“Cross-drums?” Jess didn’t understand what he meant.

Dan-Cel-ta turned to Itta-Cel, his boy, and gabbled something very fast. The boy quickly snatched up two of Jess’s six drums, one given over to Dan-Cela-ta. They both dropped to the ground. Drums between thighs, the boy tapped, the man hammered.

Jess covered his ears. Shelek and Canipse winced and pulled pained faces.

“Cross-drums, they block god-way.”

Jess nodded. He understood that now. And if the Banmakka could cut off the Techs’ source of power…? Yet the fliers had limited space. Ten. Then his drums and some boxes already stacked belonging to Canipse and Shelek. But he’d only six drums. And as he figured it, it took no skill to play cross-drums, so Canipse and Shelek could play too.

“Three.” He held up his hands to show three fingers. “I can take three with me. And I’d prefer two of them to be Dan-Cel-ta and Itta-Cel.”

That would limit how many of his clutch he could rescue. Four? He slapped his head. What a silly thought. And who else amongst his clutch would want to stay? Just Kookka. Maybe Joel. Yet that depended on why this round-up of clutches. That the Techs were withdrawing from Sipaziann Ayin he’d no doubt. But where would the Techs take them?

Somewhere to be reared and eaten, the words rose in his mind.

But why not take both the fliers? Shelek could control one and he the other. Though Shelek mightn’t be so adept in the psi-sphere. But no, that wouldn’t do; it would delay them while they took turns in catching up with their sleep. And how far anyway was it to the landing base? Three, four, five times as far as to Clutch Eight. He needed to access the psi-sphere.

The Banmakka headman beckoned another of his men, in age between the spirit-man and his boy. “This one – Anak-tu – never has heard our gods. He heard nothing from your grey-gods when they came. He could be good companion?”

Jess bowed deep to the Banmakka headman, and again to each of his new companions. Then turned to Shelek and Canipse. “We need food, water.”

Shelek nodded towards the stacked boxes. “We’re good for a while.”

“Then all we need now it to discover where to go.”

*

There was no advantage in having two Monzas accessing the psi-sphere. Jess was the more experienced, it made sense for him to do the night flying. But he wasn’t yet tired enough to sleep, he doubted he’d even sleep after his session as pilot. Calculations. Estimations.

“Either of you remember how long it took the Techs to transport us from the main landing site to our basecamp?”

“Too long.” Canipse slumped in the seat, a segment all to himself, a gap between him and the Banmakka. Perhaps his excitement at sharing what he knew about the Techs had exhausted him.

“Shelek?”

Shelek shook his head. “Playing knuckles with Saker, most of the day.”

“Day, just the one day?” Jess was quick to pick that up.

Shelek squinted, working to recall. Unfair of Jess to ask this question while he was accessing the psi-sphere, but he needed to know. He remembered it as daylight, sleep, then daylight again. But everyone was dozy, not long having woken from that mega-sleep while they bypassed who knew how many galaxies.

“Two days,” Shelek amended. “Maybe. Don’t stun me if I’m wrong.”

“Yet at the distance we’re currently covering?” Jess groaned. “Maybe two five-days. We have to go faster.”

“Yea? How? I’m doing what I was doing when we were tracking…” Shelek glanced back at the slumbering Canipse.

“Piss on him – now he’s going to be jabbering down my neck when I’m having to focus in the negative night. But…” he waved dismissive arms. “The Techs do it in two days and a night. How?”

“They live in the psi-sphere?”

Jess punched the air. “You clever arsehole! Why didn’t I think of that.”

“You think that’s the answer?”

“But they do live in the psi-sphere. Not all the time, but—yea.” He turned enough to see the backs of the Banmakka’s heads, and the stack of drums. Jess didn’t have the Banmakka speech, but he did have Itamakkuese. He hoped these three companions were as word-wise as their headman. “Drums.” He pointed to be sure. “You drum us into psi-sphere?”

“Now?”

Jess nodded, his body twitching with excitement. “Now.”

It worked, but they still weren’t covering the distance known of the Techs. Yet by the time light replaced night they had flown over Clutch Seven’s base. That was a doubling of their speed. But now the Banmakka were lost to them, in that nebulous sphere.

*

The Banmakka spirit-men drummed – but on entering the psi-sphere they stopped that drumming. Without that input, Shelek and Jess lacked the strength to keep the flier at high speed. They then must wait until the spirit-men returned to regain that speed. Jess despaired of reaching the landing base before all were gone.

“We’ll get there.” Shelek wrapped an arm around Jess’s head, a reassuring gesture unknown in the basecamp.

“Hey, is one of you now changing gender?” Canipse’s tone gave no hint of whether he was jesting or not. “Haven’t we had enough of touching and…stuff?”

“No change of gender,” Shelek assured him. “I’d take on another woman tomorrow, given the chance.”

“And I have one waiting. I hope.” Jess touched the idol of sun-baked clay in his jacket pocket where he’d tucked it four days before. “But however much I care for her, I care equally for Kookka. And no, that doesn’t mean I’m changing gender. It’s just I wouldn’t be making this crazy flight if it weren’t for him.”

Shelek looked back over his shoulder. “Space for three. Apart from Kookka, who will they be?”

“I would take all – or all who wants to join us. You do realise,” Jess glanced back to include Canipse in this, so easy to ignore him with him being so quiet, “we’ll be on our own, no Techs to help us.”

“Well, that’ll make you happy. Hey, Zem?”

Jess ignored Canipse’s jibe. “I’m hoping Joel will come with us.”

“Zeke,” Shelek said. “He’s a good cook.”

“I cook, remember,” Canipse sniped. “And I notice you’re not thinking of operatives. Yet it’s ops who’ve the survival skills. What are your observers good for? And must those Ban-men make so much noise? All that drumming, caving my head in.”

Jess sighed. And Canipse had been so quiet until now.

“Many of the observers have useful hobbies,” Shelek said. “Like Saker. He ferments a mean brew.”

“If we get there in time. And even then, what happens next?”

“Guess that’ll depend on what the Techs are up to?” Shelek said.

“They’re withdrawing, that’s obvious,” Canipse said it like he was volunteering his greater knowledge.

“But why?” Jess and Shelek said in unison.

“Well, it’s not because you obs are bedding the breed-pools, is it,” Canipse said. “That might explain the Techs’ departure, but not your obs.”

“We’ll just have to wait till we get there.”

Jess grunted at that. But what if they were too late, and when they reached the landing site no one was there?

Continues next week
Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed
Comments, please, gratefully accepted, especially now we’re so near to the end

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

Please note: This is a weekly post

Jess settled into the flier, calmed his mind, put his worries aside and entered the psi-sphere. Although he’d recorded his destination on the Techs’ leather-bound log, he’d told no one, not even Kookka, exactly where he was going and why. He expected to be away five or six days. When he returned there would be tubes to cut. The bamboo-grass ought to serve. And the powder to mix. Carefully. But first to that smouldering volcano that belched out its sulphurous fumes. He spent no longer there than he absolute needed, just time enough to locate and collect. In next to no time, he was bringing the flier to land near Cela-Byi’s dragon cave.

He smiled at the thought of her, yet that smile was wiped by sorrow at a memory. “What’s that?” She was forming the squadge of clay she’d asked off him from the Techs’ store into a womanly shape. “That’s our baby’s spirit carrier. He’ll be safe there until he’s properly born.” “He?” “Or she.” He had seeded in her another baby? And that after he’d tried his hardest to resist.

With a swift apology to the small dragon that guarded the cave, he stunned it. On his way to the upper caves, he collected his second ingredient: charcoal, the remains of Cela-Byi’s many fires. To help him enter those squeeze-him-tight claustrophobic passages he again entered the psi-sphere. There he found the necessary composure. There wasn’t a dragon following his heels. The roof of this passage, of this cave, wouldn’t collapse on him. He wouldn’t find himself wedged, stuck, unable to move. His lungs wouldn’t deny him another breath. And to scream would deliver him no comfort. Slowly, methodically, taking it a move at a time, he made his way through the four connecting passages, to the uppermost cave – although that cave wasn’t the cause of this expedition.

He didn’t sleep once on the way. He wouldn’t sleep till he was out of that place.

Three Techs held on leashes the undeniably mature Monza males.

One of those Monzas stood in the midst of the corralled women – not the Itamakku headman as Cela-Byi had thought. It was a Monza male, a zem, most likely. And the women, corralled like the goats at Hive Eight, awaiting slaughter? But the goats were food for the operatives and observers. What were these women? Food for the Techs?

“I am dead,” the Monza male says. And in the adjoining cave there are his bones along with those of the women.

And beneath him, surrounding that legend of ‘I am dead’, what seemed random lines, yet Cela-Byi had thought them plants. He traced them with his fingers, the better to memorise. Perhaps they were illustrated in the Tech-issued Information Pack. If not maybe Shelek would recognise them. He was always about with his paper and paints. Jess sighed. Shelek had taken a flier, possibly while Canipse held a stun-gun at his head. To Clutch Seven or Eight. Kookka had proven it could be done.

And that was the reason for this improvised gun.

In the bat’s chamber, Jess dropped to a squat to scrape and shovel the abundant supply of guano. Packed into a box that unfortunately wasn’t airtight, he then squeezed his way back to the entrance cave, his stun-gun ready. He was tempted to soak that shit in water and leach out the chemical he wanted, the potassium nitrate, before taking it back to base. The thought of it stinking out the flier upset his belly. But rather he’d be away from this place, be back to base before however many Techs arrived in answer to Canipse’s call.

“Should I pray to the Itamakku gods in the animosphere? Are they the best gods to help me here? Or to the star-gods?” He laughed at himself for talking out loud. Yet after being isolated in those caves, he needed to hear a voice. Any voice. Even his own. “Yea, Cela-Byi, I call on your god, the dragon, to protect you and I.”

What would the Techs do if they arrived before he’d prepared these guns? “That treacherous Canipse. It ought to be his bones back there in that cave.”

*

The flier hovered over the basecamp. Or rather, over where the basecamp ought to have been. Horror swelled and stole Jess’s thoughts, his reason, his breath. What had happened here? Beneath him one flier, just the one flier. Not a single hive remained. Were it not for that flier and his stack of drums he’d wonder if Clutch Six had ever existed.

Jess pulled the flier away, out westward, southward, to Toki-dow. He checked on the other two dows in the programme. All looked as they ought to. He returned the flier to base and brought it down beside the other.

By then, Shelek and Canipse had formed a small greeting party.

“What…?” That’s all he could say, hurting deep inside him, senses and breath taken away. Where was Kookka, where was Cela-Byi? Where had they gone?

“Best sit down,” Shelek said.

Canipse led the way to the other flier. “We’ve made a cosy hive here. Waiting for you.”

“You knew…?”

“The Banmakka saw you leave,” Shelek said. “They said they hadn’t seen you return before the lander came.”

“The lander?” But the Techs only used the landers at the end of each term, to collect the Monzas from all eight clutches. And they didn’t take away the hives when they came.

“The Banmakka fought them,” Shelek said. “Fought the Techs. They said there were scuffles, our Monza refusing the call. The Banmakka didn’t want them to go.”

“Well, no,” Jess said, some resemblance of sense returning. “We’ve been a regular source of food. And what’s happened to the women? Cela…?” By the Black Dragon’s Clutches, it hurt him to say that name.

“The Techs stunned them but didn’t take them. The Banmakka got the women out.”

“Is this by your doing?” Jess rounded on Canipse. Sitting close in that flier, his fingers itched to strangle the traitor.

“No.” Shelek defended him. “No. Canipse is good, you leave him be. Sure, we took the flier, and I thought he was going to plead for a Tech replacement – he’s said it so many times. But he didn’t. Those Techs got into my head as soon as we’d landed at Clutch Eight, but they couldn’t get into his.”

Canipse jutted his chin. “I’ve kicked them out, them and their lies. I’m open again to my memories. And I’m telling you, Zem Jess, those Techs are evil.”

“I’ve known a while that they’re liars.”

Canipse vigorously shook his head. “Liars? You think that’s all? Killers. Killed my sister. Made me cook her.” He turned away while he scrabbed at his eyes. “You know what they do, what they do here, their little schemes?”

Jess didn’t want to linger on Canipse’s memory. And he’d thought the Techs’ treatment of his own sister had been brutal? “I know the GM Programme is just a cover. I know they killed the Monza breeders, our females. And I know it wasn’t the Adamzal who sent that virus. And the Adamzal still have females, they still produce young, but the Techs take them – harvest them – on some kind of agreed quota. And if that’s so, why the need of this GM Programme?”

“They’re farming us,” Shelek said. “Farming the breed pools too. All of us, work us, or eat us.”

Jess sat back in the flier’s wide seat, hand to his mouth, while the pieces slipped into place. “And that’s why they want us to mate with the breed-pools? They want us to do that though they say it’s forbidden.”

“Breeding swimmers,” Canipse said, and Jess scowled his puzzlement. “To harvest the seaweed. It yields—”

“Iodine,” Jess murmured the word. He’d been slow, he should have identified the seaweed from the cave drawing.

“Black sea-poison,” Canipse said.

“But why?”

“You wouldn’t ask if you’d seen what I’ve seen. It’s no pretty sight, and here’s me used to fiddling around in warm blood and guts.”

“They cannot kill, you see,” Shelek said.

“Canipse has already told you all this?”

“Not exactly bedtime stories,” Shelek said. “But yea. We had a day or two to wait for you.”

“But they—”

“Monza and breed-pools, yea,” Canipse said. “And not just here but on all the planets. But that’s for food, they’ll kill anything for food, same as us. But a Tech can’t kill another Tech and can’t kill themselves. And yet they have to die to reproduce.”

“Replicate,” Shelek fed in the right word.

“So, they sup their black sea potion.”

“Which sends them into a coma?” Jess said, a deep scowl making his eyes ache deep in his head.

“And in that coma comes death. By then, starved of nutrients, their ancient grey skin dries. And splits. Rips right down the middle, it does.”

“Have you seen those seed pods that split like that?” Shelek said. “They dehisce, that’s the word, and the seeds within all spray out.”

“But they don’t produce seeds like Shelek’s dehiscing pods. Twins, Tech-twins, multiple twins, two, four, six…”

“Clones?” Jess said and Canipse nodded. “But how do you know this?”

“You think I’m lying? That I’ve created it all in my head? It’s what I’ve been trying to escape, why I didn’t want to enter the psi-sphere. But you forced me to there.”

“I didn’t force – you turned a psi-powered stunner on yourself.”

Canipse flapped his hands to brush away that truth. “However done, the memories returned. I tell you truth. I worked the kitchens on Kreegirn, no better place to learn their secrets. Maybe they gave me Cally’s carcase as a threat to seal my mouth. But that mouth is open now.”

Jess sat with his head in his hands, aware that time was racing and there were things must be done. “Where did the Techs take them, our clutch, either of you know?”

But his question merely drew shaken heads.

“I can tell you this though,” Shelek said. “They didn’t just take our clutch. The Banmakka said that lander was heavy with Monzas.”

“From what they could see of it,” Canipse added.

“The landing port,” Jess said, the answer suddenly there in his head. “They’re withdrawing, like they did on Urgula Teth. But why, just as they’ve achieved their aim. We’re mating, like they want.”

“But we don’t produce live young.” Shelek chewed on his lip.

“No, we don’t.” And again Cela-Byi was carrying his seed.

Continues on Monday. Not many episodes left
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