crispina kemp

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

Please note: This is now a weekly post

Two concerns robbed Jess of his sleep and his appetite. He must ensure no others of his team strayed beyond the barriers, there must be no contact, not even distant. And he must keep his bodily changes hidden from the Techs, and that meant hidden from his team as well, both observers and operatives. Trouble was Antel, Armar and probably Kookka too already knew, and if the Techs found this knowledge in their heads he was dead. He rocked on the edge of his bed as if thus to escape his thoughts.

Better to quash them.

He needed to enter the psi-sphere where, it was said, all answers were found. And indeed, there he did find an answer. So simple.

“Armar, Kookka,” he called them to him the next day. “That southern island…you know the one? I’m thinking it needs a thorough survey. We’ll take a flier.”

He didn’t wait for questions but led them to the fly-port. It was early, all three fliers were still on their pads. “I’ve always thought three a lucky number.”

“Since when have you been superstitious?” Kookka said.

Jess ignored the jibe. He nodded to the nearest flier. “Climb in.” And waited for the Tech who was hastening towards them with his leather-bound flight log.

“You have reason?” At least now the Techs didn’t query Jess’s ability to control the flier.

“We’ve discovered an island much changed since it was last surveyed.”

“That is for the Techs—”

“But you Techs are busy checking and repairing the perimeter holos. They must be restored to full working order as a matter of urgency. Everyone’s survival depends on it.”

The Tech twitched his head. Jess had often wondered if the Techs could detect the Monza’s sarcastic tones. Perhaps. Perhaps. He signed the Tech’s flight log and turned his back: dismissed.

As they rose above the camp, Kookka nodded back down. “Would that be our catering overseer?” The green-suited Canipse was waving his arms like a tree caught in a high wind. “Wonder what that’s about?”

“Stirring shit, no doubt,” Jess said. He couldn’t forget Canipse’s involvement in the flaying of the immature Itamakki.

Kookka growled. “Would that be the same shit as his operatives serve us for supper?”

“Oh, you too? I thought it only me he was targeting.”

“I’d say he doesn’t make the best of enemies,” said Armar.

Jess held his words, his mind on the flying. But after he’d dealt with the Techs, that overseer would be next – before his flabbermouth caused more trouble.

He had settled the flier on the bare volcanic rock before he said more. “Whatever we say, discuss, debate, decide while at this far place, it’s crucial you don’t bring it to mind when we return.”

“Then it’s true, our illustrious leader is hatching a rebellion,” Kookka said, not a glint of amusement in his eyes.

“Where’d you hear that?” Jess snapped.

Kookka rested a calming hand on Jess’s shoulder. “Hey, joking.” Yet the look said I’m with you. Jess replied with the slightest shake of his head.

“But by the way you reacted…?” Armar said.

Jess hit the button to open the door. “It’s safer to speak outside the flier.”

Kookka’s wide brow furrowed as he planted his feet firmly on the rock. “I was joking but now I’m thinking maybe I’m right.”

“Kookka, you must have noticed…and I know you have, Armar, and now Antel’s confirmed it. I’m changing. Maturing. I soon won’t be a Monza-Imm. I’ve had contact with a breeding female, her pheromones have triggered me.”

Armar clasped his hands, brought up to his forehead as if in deep thought. “So, the GM Programme has progressed that far.”

“But contact…with a Sanki? When? Ah! The day of the dragons, got to be. You’ve been funny since then. Not overly yourself.”

“It was at a distance. I never imagined…” Jess drew in a breath and bit his lip. That was a lie. From the first moment he’d seen her, when he’d smelled her fragrance… “No contact, the Techs tell us, and now we know why.”

He paced, moving away from the tight trio they’d formed on leaving the flier. He was hoping he wouldn’t need to say more, that Kookka and Armar would figure it out, the same as he had. But though their heads drooped, and their faces frowned, they said no more.

“I don’t know what other changes to expect,” Jess said. “How noticeable they’ll be. Have you ever seen a mature Monza? No, because after they mated they died. No mature Monza ever survived.”

And neither would he survive, not when the Techs saw the changes. They’d know the cause. There would be no shipping him to the Fire-keepers of Colabri this time. He had disobeyed and now bore the mark. The Techs wouldn’t allow that to be seen.

It wasn’t the death that frightened him, but its manner. The Techs would skin him like they had that young Itamakki. They claimed never to kill but like so much else with the Techs that was clearly a lie. His breath caught just at the notion. His belly queasied, sweat beaded. Rather his companions killed him here, now, than that. But their stun-guns weren’t designed to kill.

“Armar, Kookka, I need your help. We’ve to get rid of the Techs.”

“An interesting proposition,” Kookka said, a loaded side-glance at Armar. “Maybe overly hasty. As you say, you don’t know the changes. Maybe they won’t notice? We haven’t seen a mature Monza, so it figures neither have they.”

“Adamzal,” Jess said. “Remember what Joel told us.”

“I’m not party to this,” Armar said. “What did Joel say?”

“He’s been to Adamzal,” Kookka filled in. “He says there are breeding females there, that the Techs control their breeding and take the Amzal-Imms for work where size and strength is needed, in the mines.”

“But…” Armar stuttered over his thoughts. “But why this GM Programme to ensure the Monza’s survival when they’re already flourishing on Adamzal?”

“It’s a cover,” Jess said.

“Kookka’s right about you,” Armar said.

“He does have history.”

Jess shot Kookka a look but still admitted it. “The Fire-keepers of Colabri erased that from my personality.”

Kookka raised a brow – which with a slight cock of his head Jess returned.

“Sounds like it,” Armar said with what would have been a laugh if it hadn’t been underlaid with concern.

“We don’t know the Techs’ true purpose on the GM planets,” Jess said. “Yet to genetically modify the native life isn’t it. Unless it’s to breed more tireless workers for them.”

“But I have to agree with Kookka,” Armar said. “To be rid of the Techs? That’s too extreme. And anyway, how were you thinking of doing it? Are you talking of killing them? Feed them to your dragons? Don’t ask me to mix you some poisons, my apothecary days are long behind me. And just our Techs here at this base? Or all the Techs on Ayin? And what happens when the STC-Transporter returns? And can we survive here without the Techs? And have you thought how long their demise would go unnoticed – if you mean just the Techs of Clutch Six? Whatever your intention, I’d say you’ve not thought it through.”

Armar was right, Jess hadn’t thought it through. “All good questions. In answer, only our Techs on base. And no, no killing – I don’t think I can, though maybe that’s just a prohibition the Techs instil in us. I thought maybe to strand them. Too far away from our base to be a problem. Here. Or on one of the other islands. Too far south for them to contact the Techs at the other bases. It’s doable.”

“And it saves your life?” Armar said.

“Would you meekly and obediently wait to be taken and –” he grimaced, barely able to say it “– skinned? For no fault of your own? Yea, I was outside the perimeter. But I was checking on a holo that they had neglected.”

“I say it’s workable,” Kookka said. “Though, my friend, we should wait before laying further plans, see the fullness of these changes. But I promise you, we’ll act on it before they ever have a chance to take you.”

It wasn’t the result he’d wanted, but it would have to do. Meanwhile, there were more holos to check. Those around the farms.

To be continued next Monday

Thank you for reading

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

Please note: This is now a weekly post

Unable to sleep, Jess was up and moving even before the forest began its morning clamour. As the zem, he had reports to read, notes to transfer. The Techs might be able to pick as they will from the Observers’ heads, but Jess needed a visual display of what they’d seen of their skein’s behaviour and the teams’ ideas of what it might mean. They might be better able to understand what they saw if they knew the language. Maybe this time, with the linguist Joel as part of the team, they’d fare better. He also needed to keep abreast of the Operators’ projects – the farms, their food production, their textiles. In all this, Jess used the regulation paper and pencil to be filed in card-folders.

So intent was he on his work, he didn’t notice when Armar joined him in the hive’s front cell, oblivious too to the domestic’s delivery of breakfast, juice and coffee.

Armar cleaned his plate of overcooked, over-salted scrambled eggs and dry toast – apparently their preevos hadn’t left them edible spreadable oil – and looked across to Jess. “Aren’t you eating?”

Called from his work Jess looked up. “Sorry. What?”

“Wow, you were in some deep place.”

Jess shook his head. “No-no. Just reports. Is that breakfast?” He grimaced his lack of interest. “You have it. I’m fine.”

“You are not fine – you’re not eating. Not sleeping either. Don’t think we haven’t noticed.” Armar loaded a plate with scrambled eggs and cold toast. “Eat.”

Jess looked at the pile of papers, and the plated food. He’d rather push the food away but knew Armar wouldn’t leave off the nagging until he’d eaten. He drew the plate closer.

“You’ve been like this since that incident with the dragon. It must have really scared you. Though I can understand that. The young must be terrifying enough, but a full-grown…”

Jess ignored him, dutifully eating his breakfast.

“But you were where you shouldn’t have been,” Armar lightly chided.

“The perimeter was breached,” Jess said around a mouthful of eggs. He swallowed and reached for the juice. But set it aside when he noticed its aroma. Fragrant. Like her. “I want to go back and check it. Ensure the Techs have done their duty this time.”

Armar nodded. “Agreed, it needs checking. So do you.”

Jess opened his mouth.

“Close it. Better to have Antel poke and prod than to have the Techs alerted that all’s not right with you. And Jess, all is not right with you.”

While Armar left to fetch the medic Antel, Jess pushed aside the half-eaten breakfast and tidied the papers. He would  have welcomed Antel’s examination – if it weren’t for the Techs. He would have sought the medic’s input before now if it weren’t for those hear-everything, know-everything Greys.

By the time Antel arrived, Jess had figured a way to keep the medic’s findings away from their prying minds. “Hey, great to see you this morning. Glad you could come. There’s something I want you to see. It’s a bit of a long flight but well worth it.”

Antel glanced back at Armar. “Ah, so that’s why the mystery. And where are you taking me?”

“Southwest. Some islands there. Amazing developments since the earlier surveys. If we go now we should scope a flier before the Techs use them all.” Jess bustled Antel out of the hive and towards the fly-port where he signed for a flier.

“Purpose?” the Tech asked, the leather-bound log held out for his completion.

“Investigative visit,” Jess said as he filled in the data. “That island I reported before.”

The Tech accepted the explanation. “Ensure you return the flier before the light dies.”

Jess nodded. “No fret. No intention of over-nighting there.”

No words passed between Antel and Jess during the flight.

*

Jess brought the flier down close to the southern shore of the southernmost island, eyes flicking towards Antel. This was his first visit to the island, Jess wanted to see his reaction.

Antel was nodding. “Not as we’d believed it?”

“Like everywhere within our breed-pool’s range, it’s volcanic in origin. This appears to be more recent than the major landmass – at least the flora and fauna are only now colonising it. And yet, unlike to the north, it’s no longer active and the rocks look much older.”

“What are you saying? Evolution without the Techs?” Antel’s remark was thick with sarcasm. “But that’s not why you brought me here. Armar says you’re not sleeping, not eating, and he’s noticing physical changes in you.”

Jess tugged at his cuffs, hoping to lessen the gap between sleeve and wrist. “We Monza – Imms – we continue to grow. It’s only the Techs who remain small.”

“Yes, I’m a medic, my duty to know these things. In fact, I’m pretty sure I know a lot more about this than do you. Like, we Monza continue to grow at a slow and steady rate – we do not shoot up overnight. And while I’m told that certain plants in our study area do exactly that, that’s only after the rains. Besides, why you and no one else in camp? You’re right to bring me here to discuss this. The Techs will notice it soon.”

That’s what was worrying Jess. What would they do? An aberrant Monza, would they remove him? He didn’t want to think about ‘how’ they’d do that.

“It’s not just my bones that are growing,” Jess said. “Other things are happening.” Things he didn’t want to speak about.

“You’re growing fuzz,” Antel said. “I can see that. Armar has noticed it too. Fuzzy arms and fuzzy chin and… fuzzy down there?” Antel nodded towards Jess’s crotch.

Jess swallowed. He didn’t want to ask this. He knew – or he thought he knew but maybe, maybe not. And he didn’t know which name to use for it. Pipy? That was the nursery name. He was doubly embarrassed. “It’s…that’s…grown. What’s happening to me?”

In answer, Antel asked him, “How are you on our history?”

Jess frowned, head atilt. “You mean the Monza-Adamzal virus?” He didn’t add in the ‘supposed’; that was Joel’s story to add. “I was already out of the nurseries and into schools when that wiped out our breeding females. So yea, I know about the war and all that.”

“That’s not the history I meant. Why are we Monza called Imms? It’s imm for immature, not yet able to breed. But why can’t we breed?”

“No breeding females, and without them we remain immature,” Jess answered with the obvious. Then looked away.

He walked some steps, turned and circled around the dodecahedral flier, his hand to his mouth while he thought. Thoughts collided, knowledge with speculation, his breathing rapid and shallow. Nausea played with his guts and a sweat began to form. She’d been no demon sent by the Pendols. She was one of their breeding pool, genetically modified.

“The breeding females triggered our transition into maturity, I know that. But how did that work?” Because Jess was now sure that’s what had happened to him. That Itamakku female had somehow triggered the process in him.

“The female releases a chemical when ready to breed,” Antel said.

Fragrant, alluring, attracting him – even into danger. “And in the presence of this chemical, what happens to the Monza? What changes?”

“Skeletal and muscular are the more obvious. He grows larger, stronger.” Antel glanced at the flier. “Better able to fight, to defend the breeders.”

“To defeat the Techs?”

Antel held up his hands. “That is dangerous talk.”

“And this fuzz and the other growth?” Jess waved his hand to his crotch which increasingly threatened to grow cocky.

“Enables the mature male and female to breed. When that happens, the now-mature Monza’s immature twin transitions to a milk-mother, to tend the young – however many there might be.”

But there’d be no transition for his sister; dead in the mine. “All this growth, getting ready to do like the larger animals here? Yet they don’t die.”

“And neither do we,” Antel said. “For we have no breeding females left.”

Except Joel had been to Adamzal where the Techs harvested the immature Amzal, a quota set by treaty after the War. There were breeding females on Adamzal.

“We’ve already discussed this,” Antel said. “When the time comes—”

“It has come.”

“—the Techs will do it ex utero. No Monza will have to die.”

“Yet here I am.” Jess swagged his hands roughly in front of his body. “Transitioning to a mature Monza. And it takes a female chemical to trigger this change?”

“You’ve been in contact?”

“Not close. Not as close as you standing here.” He couldn’t help but suck his lip.

“We can’t reverse it. We know no way.”

“Then the Techs must—I don’t know – remove me. Kill me? Please, Antel, you must drive it into Armar’s head, for when he’s made the zem after me, he’s to allow none of the clutch to stray beyond our perimeters. And those holos must be kept in good repair.”

He was ashamed, even in the secrecy of his head, to admit he wanted to get close, to hold and plunge deep into that Itamakku female even though it meant he would die. He must protect his team from that.

To be continued next Monday

Thank you for reading

Comments invited

It’s not really a spoiler alert to suggest some of the future episodes could get a might more adult than these first have been. I will flag them when that happens 😇