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Ch. 6 pt. I

If he were conscious he’d know the lift only brings him up a couple levels before the doors slide open exposing a long brightly lit red rock hallway carved into the cliffs above the finger.

He is taken through a solid door at the far end and left on the floor.

Shuhp Yee awakens exactly like that, stiff and feeling each and every one of his solar cycles. But his captivity yields nothing but a static that wraps and protects. He is valuable. A treasure. A tool to be used sparingly.

A tango with his old nemesis, maths, is little more than him leaning over a datapad, though, making corrections.

Poor him. Easy life at the end of it all.

On the other end of campus, under the collapsed titerarium, Rantira awakens also. And he thought removing his own arm was painful, this was magnitudes worse. Yet, instead of the pain just taking him, he fights through it so he can make it stop. That’s a tenant of The Great Suffering to fight through to find solace in that the suffering ends.

He can smell smoke as the rubble on top of him shifts and falls free. He scurries toward it. His life of effort pays off in giving him strength to push through the ordeal and frees himself into the dark of the University of Yee bubble.

Other survivors mill about. Some, worse off than him. Some helping others. Upu and Naht-do, slave and free. Little camps of them spring up, fires to aid those that won’t make it or can’t move without more help. He aims for one surrounded by the fewest refugees.

One whispers rumors, “I heard some talk about bubbles being targeted. Maybe hundreds of thousands dead.” The upu talking has an afirmitizer scar, meaning he was a freed slave.

The Naht-do he speaks with looks frightened at the idea. Rantira recognizes the look, one of knowing chaos comes. The Great Suffering was earned regardless of knowledge of why. It was the way.

“Some of the explosions prohibited movement. It’s almost like they want us trapped in here.”

“They want us to die.”

Several of those huddled around the small flames of the fire mutter fear-filled words.

“Why?” one asks.

“A message.”

Whispers of battle around the Elder complex are heard elsewhere in the group. “Reduce and protect,” Rantira sneers.

“But Soya’s dead.”

“Doesn’t mean The Elders didn’t value what she preached,” an older Upu says matter-factly and like he wasn’t bleeding from a scalp wound. “They just don’t want us around when things are said and done.”

Rantira agrees but says nothing as he sprinkles a bit of red powder on the wound. He is having a hard time breathing and after satisfied with his work he rummages in his pouch for ingredients for a tea that will help open bronchial pathways and prevent further smoke damage. It’s a simple recipe, one he is able to make enough of for everyone present. His stump throbs and itches as he works, but he knows it’s because the healing salve is doing its bit. He coughs and has no desire to survive, but something deep inside him is stirred by these survivors. These souls have been left for dead. What can he do? Especially fresh from self-injury, he has only what he is good at. And he has wanting to die on Nahtdo to pull him through, and nothing will make him do otherwise except fate. If fate has something more in store for him then who is simple Rantira to fight against it.

From his pouch, he pulls a small burner and a spit-like contraption. He sets them up together then attaches a modified wing to the spit. The wing is from one of the Upu’s wild cousins. Deboned and stretched it is cured to withstand high heat and is perfect for any type of cooking. He shapes it to hold fluid and lights the burner under it. Just as the leather begins to burn he points an atom-variator into the bowl, his invention, one he kept a secret, and watches the atoms there change and collect and soon enough several ounces of water appear, then enough for everyone present.

In moments his work is done.

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“Here, the roof of the bubble above is working to keep the billowing smoke trapped inside, which makes Rantira think the exhaust system is destroyed. Drink this and feel better.”

A shadow approaches the group huddled around the small flames as he serves his broth.

“Rumors are a way out has been discovered,” the form says to everyone present, only stopping long enough for a bit of the drought and then disappearing back into the grey muck surrounding. Some mutter about following, and as Rantira finishes passing out his brew they do. He makes a bit more for others as they might come. And he does encounter more as they move and is happy he prepared. If he is right and the way out was through the ancient caverns his little bag will be filled with ingredients soon enough so there was no need for greed, only wariness because every fool knows to stay out of the old holes. Some start heading off that way nonetheless and soon he is the only one left at the little fire. He lets it die down to nothing before packing his gear back into his pouch. He heads off in the direction looking over his shoulder, certain neither direction is safe.

Time and distance disappear and over the next few long moments the red moss powder heals his arm as he puts his skills to use with the ever-growing population of displaced people he finds himself among. The powder remains in place until a scab grows, equally thick, but permanent. From this point, if he finds himself still alive later, he can decide on a replacement. But right now, it’s still deciding whether he even wants to survive.

He moves with the group. Sometimes he is given supplies in exchange for a cooked meal and stops and a crowd gathers. He makes food and gives medicine in exchange for the ingredients and becomes rich doing so in information and resources.

He learns that they are being, “hunted by the Elder’s army, but they are being hemmed up by a group of free Naht-do and Upu willing to give us a chance.”

He asks the same question to each he helps, “why bother fighting The Great Suffering?”

And they each in turn tell him they seek freedom and safety. Neither are available, he can reply, but doesn’t. Soon enough they will all likely find themselves in a fight against the Elders. And as if summoned a stream of souls appear heading from another direction.

Whispers reach that suggest there’s fighting there, “They take any prisoners to the gallows.”

“They are broadcasting it.”

“Showing what happens when you oppose them.”

“The Elder’s security force is making sure we don’t go the way of Soya by making us go the way of Soya.”

A scared voice asks, “what do we do,” and Rantira realizes it’s his own. So he answers himself, “but eat,” and offers a bloodfly cake to an old Upu nearby who happily accepts.

In this, they were an unruly mob. Hungry and willing to indulge in anything, and it never really improved from there. The only difference, day by day, were the types of fight and how many died or were captured.

In a moment of respite, he serves an Upu with singed fur and a bad neck laceration. She shouldn’t be here anymore, and he tells her so as he pulls one last suture through the wound.

Her response, “revenging Soya is all I have left. Got any more?”

He tells her, “out of cakes,” and she shrugs then stands temporarily whole again to rejoin the group they find themselves in. The Naht-do cook falls into the last spot in the formation. He steps on bruised and lacerated feet, but forward is the only direction left so that’s the direction he goes along with everybody else. In front of him is the Upu he just worked on. Her wound will heal, but she is still a soft shopkeeper and eventually, her body will demand she lie down and die. He has never been in more pain. And all from walking. In front of them is a line of refugees that know it’s fight or die. Male and females like has never been seen before. Children mingling about, clutching afraid at knees. Male and females, who have lost everything and have sworn the last remaining portion of their soul to revenge. Weapons as diverse as soup ladles being brought to bear if needed. The Upu in front of him has the sharpest cleaver from her drawer and she plans to use it again against a security force armed with projectile slingers.

Rantira doesn’t want revenge. He got it. He killed his master. An unspeakable act. One he keeps quiet about.

Now as reward he just wants to die on Nahtdo. It doesn’t matter that all that might have once been there is gone now. He tried to stop this. End Soya. Revenge a planet full of dead. Revenge a life given to servitude. Sidetracked by a true insurrection. The irony is painful. He tries to move his mind away from all that. It doesn’t truly matter after all that everything is a smoldering pile of hot white ash. He shakes away all of it and tries to focus on the job to be done here and now, walking till he can’t anymore.

Climb this mountain called surviving until he can’t any longer. As they walk the smog from the sulfur belching abyss rises. It’s going to be a hard day. Rantira sighs, adjusting his almost overburdened satchel. Death is coming. He knows it like watching an approaching storm. But this death is not just his, but the female in front of him and everyone. All because of one ancient Upu’s philosophy of Reduce and Protect made her a living god.

Rantira knows the only thing going for them is the caverns. From there, what?

“They control us. The Elder’s forbid their army from following us inside. There is nothing but death ahead and behind.”

Rantira doesn’t respond because he isn’t being talked to. The man sharing his opinion joined the group not long ago. He said his name was Bah. He was a mix of Upu and Naht-do. An inbetweener. A thing that neither side trusted. Especially since the terrorist group represented consisted mainly of the societal outcasts. “We managed to pull the roof of a cavern down on one of their divisions. The stench of that massacre would still be fresh on the air if it weren’t for the stink of the abyss.”

“But how can we win?” an emotional Upu from somewhere in front replies. That can’t do anything but anger them.”

“Attrition. We can win if they fight and when they fight they need to lose.”

Rantira agrees but doesn’t see it as likely. And soon the group stops inside an encampment of even more souls hiding inside the ancient caverns under Majt.