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KALON
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Chapter Fifty-Six: Aduc Nuna
Galactic Quadrant: Darna Quadrant
Ruling Government: Talum Merchant Federation
Solar System: D-447
Planet: Ora
Location: Daska City, Near Front Gates
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We stand looking at each other now, both having given our names. Luna, I have not heard a name like it before. Though I know little of the Masters and their naming conventions. Her arm outstretches between us. Grasping her forearm as is my people’s custom, I embrace her arm. I do not know her people’s customs, but she seems to understand the gesture. Perhaps it is the same. I search her eyes as she searches mine. Does she know me besides the market and the crash? Has she shared the same dreams? She holds my arm back for a time, silence falling between us again. Why does she not speak? Is she waiting for me to ask? Should I ask? No, I should be cautious. There is no telling what this means. If she is real, then perhaps the beings were real also. Then what are they? Before I can ruminate on it more, she breaks the silence.
“How long do your people usually hold each other’s arms?” she asks me, there is almost a playfulness in her tone though. It catches me off guard.
My eyes blink, and looking down, I see I am still gripping her arm. Releasing it, I back away, giving her space. My face feels flushed, what is this feeling? Am I embarrassed, why though? I see her cheeks are flushed as well. Strange.
“Does this mean you do not wish for me to go?” she asks me, her tone becoming more serious. She searches my eyes for the answer while my lips prepare to give it.
“Aduc Nuna,” I say, my cheeks flush more as I say it. Why did I say it? I barely know her, the blood loss and visions are addling my mind perhaps.
“I don’t speak Kuwathi.” She says.
“It means, stay,” I say, though its real meaning is closer to stay by my side. I do not tell her this though, saying such a thing would imply many things. Many things that I do not actually feel for her. My mind turns to thoughts of Nevari, how she did not say these words when her father sold me. She did not say any words to me. Nothing. My heart hardens as the wounds come closer to the surface again.
“Then I will stay with you.” She says, a small smile finding her lips.
“If you are well enough, we should search for supplies in the city,” I say, my tone becoming flatter as the emotion falls from me. Do not be enchanted with a beautiful smile, you have fallen for that before.
“Lead the way.” She says, motioning me to go in front.
Normally I would try to take behind, so that I could have an advantage if she betrayed me. However, whatever position I take will be useless against her, not while her eyes are open at least.
***
We have searched the city for hours now, with little words passing between us. Seeing the dead that line the walkways has taken the words from both of us it would seem. She was surprised to see them at first, it seems she also does not know what happened to them.
There is something bothering me besides the lack of people in the city. There are supplies everywhere, rations even, strewn about the ground. In the tribe halls we visited, I saw bunks unmade and askew as though people were woken in the night. Kuwathi do not leave untidy areas, lest they become undisciplined. Yet, everywhere I look, there is chaos and no effort made to clean it. We have seen hundreds of dead, yet this city is large enough to have many thousands. Perhaps more than one hundred thousand if managed properly. So where did they all go? Why did they leave so many things of value?
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“Why do you only tap certain pipes as you walk by them?” she asks me, breaking the silence and pulling my focus.
She is observant. I did not think she noticed.
“I am looking for Ulima caches,” I explain.
“Ulima?” she asks, though her pronunciation is strange with her thick accent.
“Forsaken.” I explain, knocking on the next pipe marked with glyphs “They call orphans and outcasts by this.”
“That’s horrible.” She says, looking closer at the symbol on the pipe I last knocked “Why would they call orphans forsaken?”
“Because they are.”
***
Another hour passes and I am about to give up looking for an Ulima cache, thinking that perhaps they do not have them in this city, or that there is another trick to finding them when my knuckle taps on a cold hollow space. The creak of the metal as I press against it tells me I have found what I seek.
Removing the loose metal bolt, I pull back the panel and peer inside. The blue-haired woman, Luna, peers too over my shoulder. Were the pungent smell of Shulka remains not beginning to stink between us, I think her closeness would have flustered me more.
“What is it?” she asks, looking at what I grabbed first. A small bound book of pages, made from flattened ration wrappers.
“A journal,” I say, looking it over. There are a few blades, a small canteen of water, three rations, and a small chunk of Etherium tucked behind the other things. Very resourceful, whoever this Ulima is… or was.
Grabbing the Etherium with a cloth, I hand it to Luna. She needs it more than I do. Also, if I give it to her willingly, she does not have to take it from me. Avoiding a fight with her would be wise. She puts it in her bag, though she seems more curious with the journal in my hand.
Putting it in my coat before she gets any ideas, I look at her and say “We should find a place to rest, we can continue the search for supplies and find out what happened here tomorrow.”
She nods. There are bags around her eyes, my own feel stiff as well. Sleep would do us both some good.
***
It does not take us long to find a tribe hall and get settled. Barring the door, in case the Shulkas or others come for us while we sleep. It is strange to me how similar each hall is. There are a few configurations to make proper use of it. Bunks on the side walls, mats in the center for gathering and training. Under each bunk is storage. Most of them are filled with dusty armor. Whatever happened to them, they were unprepared. It makes me uneasy to be here. Will the same thing happen to us?
“You should take the Chief's private quarters,” I say to her, moving to one of the bunks closest to the door.
“We should stay close.” She says, looking around the room. She looks uneasy too.
Nodding to her, I say “Then we should both make defenses just in case.”
“Defenses?” she asks me.
Do her people not do the same? Showing her now, I move the bunks in a snaking pattern so that if anyone or anything enters, it will slow them greatly, giving us time to seek advantage.
“Do all the Kuwathi live like this?” she asks me, and there is a hint of concern in her voice. It almost offends me.
“Is there another way to live?” I ask her, as I know little of her people or of any that are above the Kuwathi.
“Well, I… yes, of course, life is not meant to be perilous.”
My eyes squint at her, trying to find hidden meaning between the words. But I find nothing besides what she said. Life is not meant to be perilous?
“A strange thing to say for one who fell from the sky and nearly died,” I say, pushing the last bunk into place, looking to make sure she did her side properly. She did. Perfectly in fact. She is a quick study, she may have done well among my people. Competent and strong. A rare combination.
“People don’t always fall from the sky.” She says with a light chuckle, “Though, I see your point.”
“Both times I have met you, you have fallen from a great height.” I say raising an eyebrow “I am starting to think you don’t believe in gravity.”
She laughs, shaking her head. Her smile fades now, as though remembering something that caused her grief.
“Well, to be fair, if you had not stolen from me, I would not have fallen either time.” She says. She gives me a glance, not a playful one, but a wary one.
The guilt rises in me. A spur of anger at Korra for putting me in such a position. Yet still, if I didn’t have the box, perhaps whatever being or things surrounding it wouldn’t have brought us together again. If she had not crashed, my fate would have been more uncertain. There is little doubt in me that something larger is at play. I can see that she is thinking about it too, but she has not said anything yet. Perhaps she is also wary to speak of it.
“So, why did you steal from me? Was it because I’m an easy mark?” she asks, a flare of anger spurring in her the more she ruminates on it. Though she tries to hide it.
“I did not steal from you.” I begin, but I am cut short by her laughing, it is not a funny laugh but one that hides irritation.
“So you just what? Magically had it in your possession and were waiting to return it to me?” she scoffs.
“I went back each day for weeks to try and return it,” I say, feeling offended that she does not believe me, even though I know she has good reason to not trust me.
“A liar and a thief.” She says, shaking her head, looking at me sideways now “Don’t insult me further, just forget I brought it up.”
So, she insults my honor now? I am about to answer her when I hear something outside the hall’s metal door. Both of us turn toward it, my hand reaching for my blade. Thoughts of what it could be ensnare my mind and cause my heart to race.