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Kale
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Chapter Three: Kada
Galactic Quadrant: Darna Quadrant
Ruling Government: Republic of Hekat
Solar System: D-447
Planet: Ora
Location: Sector B-150, Kuwathi settlement
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We walk through our city of patchwork metal dwellings, towards our tribe's lodgings. Arrum walks beside me, his eyes looking around him, warily clutching the bag he was allowed to keep. This city was built to house two thousand people many years ago, the Kuwathi here are more than ten thousand now. Those without beds sleep in the walkways. I hide my rations in my shirt so I do not get robbed as I walk past. I would not dare show them, not on a night like tonight, when many bellies grumble in protest.
Our life is cruel, but there are worse fates than this. I hear no one has ever returned after being sold to the mines in the north. The wasteland of ice. It is said to be a fate worse than death. They are made to mine Etherium, the substance that powers the masters floating cities.
We reach our area and bow to one of the house guards, he looks at us with surprise in his eyes, as though not believing them.
“You live…” he says looking us over.
“We do,” I say.
“The gods are with you then.” He says, with a smile now as he slaps my good shoulder. He holds out a hand, it is custom for those who are late, to give some of their rations to those who stand guard.
Bowing to him again, I give him a fourth of our rations. He takes a drink of our water and returns it. He nods to me and bangs on the door. A latch opens in the center of the metal door, eyes flicker across it, then I hear the metal bolts sliding.
“Hempki be praised.” Another man behind the door says, he kisses a pendant in the shape of a hammer, the symbol of our tribe's god. He pats me on the shoulder then extends his hand, I give him a fourth of our rations and a drink of our water.
He nods and we go past, walking past others of our tribe who place a hand on Arrum and me, praising their god as we walk by. It is believed by the Kuwathi that those who have been protected by the gods are cloaked in a veil of their blessings, touching them will bring you luck. Before tonight I thought the entire idea strange. It is stranger though how almost dying can bring a love for the gods flowing back into you, a comfort against the tragedies of life. However, seeing the dead outside the city reminded me, that I do not truly worship any god. For if they are real, they do not care.
Nekam, the leader of our tribe comes to me now, he looks me over, putting a hand on my shoulder, a big grin on his face.
“You have a demon's luck.” He says, then eyeing my rations he puts out a hand, I give him half of what I have left. Arrum will not have to give any more, because he shares blood, Ulima or not. It is the way of our people, I am accustomed to it. Besides, Arrum will share when they look away. When he is short, I do the same.
Nekam takes my bottle, pouring half into a cistern my tribe welded many years ago for hard times.
He returns the bottle to me, only now are we both allowed to eat and drink. We do so quickly, chewing the tasteless nutrition bar and drinking the water quickly. I save some for the next day, a full set of rations should last a person a week if they eat sparingly, however after all debts are paid I always only have enough for two days. They do not take my rations because of greed, it is necessary to feed those who do not scavenge; Women who nurse the young, guards who keep our home secure from those who would raid us.
“Did you manage to get anything for the reserve?” Nekam asks as he looks me over.
From my pockets, and the folds in my clothes I pull out scraps I managed to hide from the guards. He nods with approval and hands them off to another man, who places them into a hole beneath the floor. This pit contains our reserves, for when we seek new ships, so that our tribe will not starve. Other tribes who are not as disciplined will wage war soon, seeking to plunder the weak, the only reprieve will be when we find a new ship. It will only come when the masters give it to the ruling tribe, we are only permitted to roam where the masters allow. They are the hand that feeds, it is why we do not bite.
I can see the worry in the group's eyes, there is talk of movement soon. I have never seen it before, but the elders have spoken of it as a horrible ordeal.
Our people have been in this city for forty years now, crawling these sands for treasures to give our masters, living off what they give us to survive, which is not much. We have no other choice.
“This is what we were allowed to keep, my chief,” Arrum says as he brings forth his bag, placing it on the ground with a small bow.
“I thought you a fool when you ran off to help him. I am glad to see you are a lucky fool.” Nekam says to Arrum, then points to the bag “This is enough to earn my forgiveness.” He slaps him on the back with a big grin and motions for one of his brothers to take it.
“Tell us how you managed to defy fate little demons,” Nekam says with a grin, those who are awake sit up from their bedrolls and look at us, waiting for our story.
“Yes, my chief,” I say, then begin to recall the tale, leaving out the cut cords and scraps we hid in the sands. As I am wary of my tribe and greedy for our prize. As Ulima we must be, no one will tend to us.
Even Arrum, sharing their blood must produce, or be left to wither. I see in the corner of my eye Neeba chewing his nails, leaning against one of the walls, I do not look directly at him. I can see him clearly without my eyes now. As I speak, I see Nevari watching my words carefully, a small smile creeping across her face. My eyes turn away from hers.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
When Arrum tells of his bravery and flying on the storm’s wind, the room is abuzz with excitement, and they all clap for him. Nekam seemed disappointed by the loss of two parachutes and a roll of rope. When we finished, he scratched his beard for a moment pensively before speaking.
“What happened with your parachute?” Nekam asks me, shooting a glance over to Neeba and then back to me.
It is at this moment that I look upon Neeba, his face is pale. Part of me wants to take my knife and run him through, the other part tells me to say nothing. This part has helped me survive all these years as an Ulima. Neeba is Nekam’s firstborn, and his heir to our tribe. If I say this truth, there will be blood, most likely my own. It is the reason I have not yet told Arrum what I suspect. His temper gets the best of him sometimes.
“The release mechanism jammed, my chief.” I lie, looking back to Nekam.
He takes a moment of pause weighing my words, looking to his son then back to me. I can feel his mind turning, but he does not pry further about it.
“You told us of how Arrum got to you, but not of how you escaped,” Nekam says scratching his beard more pensively, looking to his son, then to me once again.
As I speak hollow eyes fill with excitement at the story, I do not embellish to them, I do not need to. When I finish everyone whispers praise to their gods for our blessings, touching our shoulders once more, hoping to get some luck for themselves.
“This room you found was unlooted, do you think we can reach it?” Nekam asks me as he rubs his greying beard.
“My chief, the Carvers have claimed the ship now.” I remind him, thinking back on the glider they rode in on and the bodies they left in their wake. They will soon be cutting it, then towing back the pieces to the Arasha, who will melt and form it anew for the masters of the great floating cities.
“You are right.” He says with a reluctant sigh, not wanting to give up on the potential rewards, but also not wanting to risk our tribe. He finishes with “Get some rest. Tomorrow will be a tough day.”
I make my way to the edge of the metal room, to a sleeping bunk I share with Arrum. I sit against the wall and close my eyes, he will have first rest on the small mat, waking me halfway through the night so I can have it until the dawn comes. I want to speak with him, telling him of Neeba, but I fear others may overhear. I also fear Arrum will do what my gut tells me to do – drive a blade into Neeba’s chest.
“Thank you,” I say to Arrum, as I recall the day's events.
“There is no thanks needed between Kada.” He says with a smile, then he rolls over and falls asleep quickly.
In the old tongue, Kada means simply - Brothers by bond. We may not share blood, but we are bonded he and I.
Soon I too drift off to sleep, hunched against the wall. Dreams fill my mind of the faces I saw on the trail. The only disturbance I feel that night is Arrum waking me to switch spots on the sleeping mat. The simple comfort of its thin fraying layer was more than enough to push me back into a deep sleep.
***
The next day I awaken to the sound of the morning horn. We all move from our bunks wiping the dust from our eyes. Today is the first day that we will not have a ship to scavenge. We will wait for the masters to send word to the Grand Chief of our city. The last time we had a break between ships it lasted nearly a month. I still remember the smell of blood and the screams in the night. I push the thoughts from my mind.
“I want to see Isola today. Will you go with me?” Arrum asks me. Isola is a girl in a neighboring tribe, one he has grown very fond of. Before his father died they were betrothed, now her father does not approve of him. He is Ulima, he must make a name for himself to win her hand.
“I will go, but I see you remain a fool,” I say with a sigh. It is not wise to venture out on a day like today.
However, if there is no ship soon, the danger will only rise. This may be the last time he can see her for some time. Besides I would not refuse him, not so soon after he saved my life.
“Kale, the only fool I see is you.” He says to me, with an eyebrow raised, motioning behind me.
My eyes follow where he points, and I see Nevari, Arrum’s cousin. She is only a month younger than her brother, both seventeen, both having different mothers.
She smiles at me, then turns, a slight flush on her cheeks. She is beautiful, and I have always enjoyed the sharpness of her mind, and her skill with a blade, but she is Nekam’s daughter.
He would not let her be with an Ulima. As I can give nothing in exchange. He will trade her hand with another tribe to make an alliance. It is not just her, Neeba will also have to do the same. It is their duty to the tribe. This is the way of my people. They forge bonds for times of war. It is not because they wish to be cruel, but because without alliances, we will surely die. I am not like Arrum with my head in the clouds. That is to say, not always in the clouds. I have thought of her fondly before in my heart, but my mind knows better. There is no future for me and her.
“If we are going to go, let’s go,” I say to him.
“Make sure you say goodbye to your admirer.” He teases.
I ignore him and move towards the door, checking my cutter has charge and my knife is sharp. I am not foolish enough to approach her, not while her father’s watchful eye is always near. I almost make it to the door when I feel a tug on my sleeve. I turn slowly to see who it is.
“I am glad you made it back safely,” Nevari says to me.
I stand in silence for a moment, I look and see Nekam is in conversation with one of his brothers, so I relax a little and speak to her.
“Without Arrum I would not have,” I admit, then turn to leave, as I see now Nekam eyeing us from across the room. I do not wish to incur his anger.
She pulls my sleeve again and places a small cloth in my hand, I look upon it and see it has a pattern sewn into it. The pattern is of a hammer striking an anvil, but instead of the usual lightning, it has desert flowers springing forth. It is a pretty thing against my rough and calloused hands. I try to give it back to her, but she shakes her head no.
“I hope it brings you luck.” She says, then almost in a whisper “Maybe enough luck that you and I…” She trails off as Nekam approaches now.
“Nevari, your mother is looking for you. Run along my child.” Nekam says, kissing her on the forehead and then looking at me intently.
Arrum comes to my side now grabbing the handkerchief from my hand, putting it in his pocket as he turns and gives a bow to Nekam.
“My chief, me, and Kale are headed out. Is there anything you would see us do before we return?” Arrum says trying to lighten the mood.
“You go to see the Dekarn tribe?” Nekam asks. It is the tribe Isola belongs to, her father’s brother is the leader.
“We do, my chief.”
“When you return there will be work. Do not stay too long.” Nekam says nodding to him.
We both bow and turn to walk away, but I feel his hand grab my injured shoulder and squeeze, hard enough that I feel his intent without the words that follow.
In a whisper, he says to me “Tread—carefully.”
“I understand, my chief.”
He lets go and I catch up with Arrum. When we get outside and far enough away he breaks the silence by handing me the cloth Nevari gave me.
“I told you, she likes you. You are blessed, my friend.” Arrum says pushing me playfully.
“I don’t know if blessed is the right word.”
He stops and grabs me by the shoulders “You are alive my Kada. Do not be afraid of a death that has not yet come. What is it you always say?”
I roll my eyes and sigh saying “Adar Ulic Bekara.”
“While there is life, there is the will to keep it.” He says, letting me go, he turns and says with a smile “Remember what the Sage Artemius used to say to us, there is also the will to enjoy it.”
I chuckle at this, remembering fondly the old man. I wonder if he is looking down on us smiling still.
“Now let’s go, brother. I have a woman to woo and stories to tell.” Arrum says with vigor in his step as he moves towards our destination.
I think about his words for a time as we move through the narrow halls with flickering lights, my hand always on my knife. I look at the handkerchief and smell it, I smell the desert flower and her scent upon it. Perhaps he is right, perhaps being alive is not enough to truly live. I place it back in my pockets, deep within the folds of my cloak.
We are close enough now to see their tribe's area and I hear a whistle in a special tune, my heart quickens and my grip tightens on my knife. I search the area preparing myself for anything.