Chapter Eighteen of my current wip. As before, all and any comments very much appreciated
Please note: This is now a weekly post
Canipse cricked his neck the better to watch the fliers lift up from the fly-port, his hands on his knees as he grabbed at replacement breaths, so fast he had run. Disappointment threatened to rob his muscles of strength. But breath recovered, he forced himself up.
South? Why were the fliers heading south? This was the most southerly base and there were no farms south of it. And why didn’t the fliers blink out of visibility? They must still be flying within the endosphere. Something wasn’t right here. He went in search of Zem Jess. That Tech-defying clutch-dictator claimed to know everything.
Despite how early the morning, the zem wasn’t in his hive. But his deputy, Armar, was. Canipse nodded – in satisfaction and in greeting; Armar wasn’t as up himself as the zem – and asked, “Where’s the zem?”
“You’ve a problem?” Armar asked in return. “If you tell me and it’s urgent, I’ll sort it. Otherwise, we expect Jess to be back before day’s end.”
Canipse held his hands high on his chest, left hand rubbing the right, his lips twisted. Ought he to raise the query or not? Was it important? What could it mean for the Techs to fly southward where there were no hives? What did it mean for them to remain in the endosphere? But maybe it was just a play of the light this morning that allowed him to track the fliers into the southern sky.
Decision made, he said. “I need to visit our farm. Hive Eight. We’ve a harvest waiting for transportation, but all three fliers are out.”
“It happens,” Armar said with a disinterested shrug. “They’re not assigned to cater exclusively to your needs, important though your catering services are.”
“But where have they gone that’s more important than food?” Canipse allowed his rising annoyance to escape his control. “I watched them, they headed out south.”
Armar’s usually pleasant face distorted as his right eyebrow rose. “Then I’d say they’ve gone south. Now excuse me, but your op had just brought me a plate of scrambled eggs when you disturbed me and they are best eaten warm, you’ll agree.” He turned with clear intent to retreat into the hive he shared with the zem.
“Wait!” Canipse called.
Armar halted, but didn’t turn.
“Why would they be flying south?”
Armar spun on the ball of his foot to face Canipse. That was better.
“You might as well know,” Armar said, though clearly with reluctance. “We’ve discovered an archipelago off the southern shore. We alerted the Techs, and now they’re inspecting the islands. Does that answer all your questions?”
“And the zem’s gone with them?”
“Of course. So now you know you’ll realise your harvest must wait another day for transportation. Now, I’m feasting on eggs – my thanks to your ops. Though you might like to tell them not to overcook them in future. Some days it’s like eating leather! Oh, and tell them to lay off the salt – it’s not healthy and even less palatable.”
Canipse tried not to sag as, dismissed and disappointed, he turned away. Islands discovered off the southern shore, nothing untoward about that. He couldn’t even complain that the zem had gone with them. Though all three Techs? Leaving the base with no fliers? That was very poor planning. Canipse returned to the hive he shared with Guul and Azal, the textiles and domestics overseers, and the healer Dov, to write his report. He would lodge it with the Techs, to be uploaded to the Nexus when the STC-Transporter eventually returned.
*
Unable to arrange the transportation and storage of the farm’s first harvest, after writing his report Canipse casually sauntered to the rocks north of the camp – in search of stones. That’s where he was when the fleeting sun-flares from the fliers’ multiple sharp edges caught his eyes. He was straight to the fly-port, the stones he’d collected rasping and rattling in his backpack.
He waited for the Techs to emerge from the fliers. He waited while first Zem Jess, then Kookka and Joel stepped out. He waited. But no Techs followed them. Like the lesser dragons that skittered about the base, he tilted his head this way and that in utter puzzlement. He couldn’t be seeing what he was seeing. Or more correctly, what he wasn’t seeing. Zem Jess with his observers were straight to the Techs’ hive at the edge of the port. It took Canipse a chaotic internal debate to lift his feet from where they’d apparently stuck, and to follow them.
“Where are the Techs?” he demanded – shouted.
The zem turned from the log he was completing. “They’re not with us. They won’t be returning.”
“What have you done to them? You’ve killed them.” Horror hollowed Canipse’s voice.
The zem slowly shook his head. “Although there have been many times when I’ve wanted to do that, no I’ve not killed them. As you and I know, what you’ve just said is entirely impossible.”
“Then…?”
“The sea has taken them. Swept off the rock by a towering wave. And we –” Zem Jess spread his arms, his hands, “– we cannot swim. With great sadness we must leave them to their fate.”
And Canipse had to admit, the zem did sound genuinely sad to report this news. Yet as the fullness of this news sank in, so a tsunami of questions and concerns flooded Canipse. “But…but…but…”
The zem answered the most pressing one. “My observers will operate the fliers until we receive replacement Techs. If replacements there will be. But not today. Please allow us a day to digest this desolation.”
“Gone? Gone?” Canipse repeated several more times on his way back to his hive where he’d write another report. “Taken by the sea.” And though he tended never to trust a word that Zem Jess said, he could not see the lie in it.
crispina kemp 