“The great Locci is worried because our flight has been unduly hampered,” Vatima said, rising to her feet. “At the moment, we are merely clipped wings. It hurts to know that some of us are not bothered one bit that we can't fly as we desire. All we do well is to argue over trivia. Enough of the contentions! We must have a consensus if we want to succeed in our mission. A wise man must recognize the urgency that every mission demands.”
The Locci warmed up to her remarks, clapping.
“Our mission needs no further annunciation,” Vatima asserted as the applause ended. “We are here to free our hampered wings!” The Locci cheered again. She paused for calm, and then took an ambitious turn.
“We are not about to sit here for eternity, hoping for a tide of events to alter the impossible in our favor. Nor are we going to engage in open confrontation as a means of unclipping our wings. My colleagues of the Locci, we have just one option,” Vatima emphasized, again pausing to read the faces of her rapt audience. She continued. “The only way is to clip the wings of the person who clipped ours.”
“Free our wings! Free our wings! Free our wings!” chorused the Locci.
“But how?” a strident voice broke-in.
"Hold your peace. I'm coming to that,” Vatima bellowed. "We've got to go back to the beginning to understand the Locci’s present and possible future. This is not negotiable since our rearmament is coming after a fatal defeat. Don't tell me you don't know who I’m talking about. I mean our defeat in the hands of Manu Waadua, Tonka's predecessor. The Locci’s onward success depends on the lessons inherent in our past failures. This is a fact. We failed then for two reasons. First, we underestimated the potential of Waadua.
“The second reason; we handled our key schemes with negligence and tactlessness. Many of our female decoys simply decamped or got trapped into exposing our plans to the enemy. The stupid whims of the Manu and his close disciples caused this because we underestimated him. A grave mistake on our part. We must mend our shattered egos now and forge ahead. We must never allow our past mistakes tie us down forever, or even allow a repeat of those haunting times. Without mincing words, this means, we must plan, and plan well.
“In Waadua we saw a Manu who outsmarted us with his civility. Don’t expect the same from Tonka. He might appear a docile, younger horse, and inexperienced, but the Tonka we’ve seen so far seems more dangerous, more ambitious than his great grandfather. He has all the finesse we lack. I think, and a lot of you would admit this, that Tonka is a bigger problem for us than Waadua was," Vatima concluded.
The pale cloud over the Locci assembly descended to about a hundred metres. Disguised in it, Tonka floated overhead, assessing the assembly’s motives and counter-motives. Their gumption amazed him.
“We have to study Tonka's programmes well,” Vatima said, exuding an air of accomplishment. “We must come up with strategies that outsmart his one-to-one. In case we are incapable of stopping him, we can at least stall his progress. This is no idle talk and shouldn't be seen as such. Diligence in the highest sense is required of us and we must exercise the finest of tact. Our deception has to be unbeatable to be able to make any impact on Tonka. This is the center piece of our deliberations tonight. I rest my case," Vatima concluded, and sat back, with her head held high, and grinning to the effusive applause of the Locci.
A tall woman spotting a broad-brimmed red hat atop a cream blouse with sequined black skirt, arose at the high table. Tonka looked down from the cloud above them and recognized the woman’s face: Feyai Kame, a lady of the Tebi household in Ditara, southwest of Sondibo. He remembered the pretty, ageless and elegant woman. She’d sought his counsel when the affluent but younger Tebi descendants disagreed over the choice of family head. Considering what he had done for her family by resolving the impasse, he could not imagine why a woman of her intellectual and financial stature would belong in a tacky group like the Locci. He looked on, surprised.
“Vatima, thank you for the wonderful speech!” Feyai Kame began. “We are inspired. The great Locci, there's no figment of doubt that Loccien Vatima has spoken our minds. We concede that we suffered defeat during Waadua’s tenure. It’s up to us to learn and make use of the lessons therein. Furthermore, we’ve been too tolerant of defecting members. That has to stop. We can no longer condone acts of treachery or cross-carpeting. It’s either you’re in or you’re out. Let me warn that the Locci will not hesitate to deal decisively with those found wanting in any area of duty. The consequences of defection are grave. We are bound by the oath of membership to protect the Locci. If it means being extra-tough on ourselves to bring forth the best qualities into the cause, then we just have to do it without compromise.”
Feyai Kame glanced around the Locci high table with the mien of a lioness. Her fellow conspirators signalled her with vague nods, and she leaped back into action.
“What we’ve dabbled into is a war - a silent war. A war to claim what is rightly ours. A battleground is no place for a frightened rat, neither is it a place for the squeamish. Let it sink into your heads; no idling around a war zone. Our weapons are our minds. Victory is ours when there's a united front, but a bizarre loss we’ll incur if we become divisive, incoherent, or argumentative. Set your minds to a goal and strive to accomplish it, no matter what it takes. The Locci lost once, there won't be a repeat," Feyai Kame thundered. “Tonka must be stopped. If we can’t achieve this objective, then we must learn to beat a drum he would dance. Once we control his mind, we control Atlantis, hence, our destiny.”
“Yes, you’re on track,” some mebers of the Locci chanted.
“Let’s make him dance,” another group shrilled.
“Yes,” Feyai intoned. “But we can’t control his mind unless we control his food, his shelter, clothing, and every other thing around him. Our own people need to infiltrate those sensitive areas of his life. And because there’s no man that cannot fall to the wiles of women, we have to co-opt pretty ladies in great numbers to unleash carnal pressures on him. In the long run we hope his puritan stance will give in to our smart strategies.”
Feyai raised a finger as a caution. “All the same, we have to tread with care. I have a feeling we are dealing with a cobra. He might strike when we least expect. In this case, should our female agents fail, we would need other areas of leverage through which we can stop the wheel of progress in Atlantis. This also means we need some clout in every facet of the Atlantean superstructure. It’s easier to stifle a system from the top downwards. Ladies and gentlemen of the Locci, this is my humble submission.”
The Locci applauded as Feyai Kame sat down. Biazi, one of the two men on the high table, rose to his feet and humped his shoulders like a colossus acknowledging the presence of dwarfs. His studied effort for attention, however, proved less effective than the first two female speakers.
Biazi’s handsome features shone forth with a broad smile. “Our able ladies of the roundtable have done us real proud with their heart-warming speeches,” he declared in a voice under perfect control. “Nothing so warms a man’s heart than the knowledge that he has intelligent and committed women toiling to realize a dream he identifies with.
“I’m impressed by their eloquent analysis of the burden on the Locci. I ascribe to almost all the issues they have raised. I’m also of Vatima’s line of reasoning. Unlike Waadua’s predictable diplomacy which ironically floored us all, Tonka is of finer stuff and would heed the advice of Waadua with whom he still maintains contact in the spiritual realm. This includes the entire chain of Manus."
Biazi paused, knowing he had said the right words up to this point. Nonetheless, a queasy feeling still hunted his innermost thoughts.
“We talk of niceties, of infiltration and stuff,” he resumed. “It makes some sense. However, we haven’t given thought to the kind of devices at the disposal of the enemy, which could frustrate our plans.”
Murmurs of agreemet from the larger asse
mbly as well as muffled appraisals from the high table reached Biazi.
“The task before us is enormous,” he pressed on. “We can’t pretend we’re going to have a work-over. It would be self-deluding to think so. Look at our agents that infiltrated into the top echelon of power. They were as ineffective as our agents in Manu Square. What did we get instead? A horde of men and women who got so intoxicated with the enemy’s liquor. They became our undoing. The sheer thought of the enemy’s ploys caught them pants down. So we lost out. Infiltration is part of the fun, but what sort do we rely upon? We have it on record there’ll soon be a shift in the axis of Atlantis. It says more than we can ever imagine. Our civilization appears to be on the thin edge of the cliff. From what we know about the shifting axis, violence of any kind will be to our disadvantage. We’ve all agreed there must be action, but we must recognize the obvious, that, there’s a difference between mere words and action. What makes the difference is taking the right steps in the right direction. Fellow members of the Locci, this is my submission. It’s not by any means perfect. Still, I implore you all to think about it. Thank you for your attention,” Biazi concluded, pleased that he had made an impact, which most of the audience seemed not to have expected at the onset of his speech.
The audience’s brief applause was more significant than any other. They knew Biazi had poked at a festering wound on their body politic. Only such an act could remind them of their enemy and prepare them for vengeance.
Vatima Hansi did not wait for the applause to subside before she rose to her feet and gestured for calm. Swallowing hard, she said with great emotion, “The mighty Locci has arrived! Yes, the Locci is here to stay. If there’s any word that best describes the wave our emotions today, it must be the pride or dignity that we belong. This wave has kept us awash with strength and hope. We are proud to have amongst us people of Biazi's kind; minds that have seen change and endured; minds that find comfort in the new hope each dawn offers; minds that work in tough conditions – the garden where hope is nursed. Everyone here has a unique quality. These rare qualities acted as the magnetic field for the great Locci. This explains why we’ve seen change and endured its caprice. I wouldn’t be mincing words if I say that we believe in tomorrow’s promise. It’s the reason we reckon with today’s dreams. Yet, I’m also expressing a belief that has its paradoxes." Vatima broke off with a derisive smile.
“Why are we such great minds if we’re going to be rendered impotent by a paradox such as this?” Vatima continued in a louder, berating tone. “We do believe in what tomorrow offers, but our fear of the enemy’s power seems stronger. Nonetheless, it’s an unreal fear. It’s is a figment of our imaginations. We are frightened over a self-created mystique.”
Vatima took a breather to let her assertion sink well. “There is no enemy,’ she bawled, picking her words one by one. “We are our own enemy. Conquer your fears and the enemy is gone, forever. We created the incubus. Therefore, we can and must, get rid of it."
Vatima’s boldness amazed the Locci. “The enemy is coy, no doubt. We need to respect his intelligence, but we must not be frightened by the notion of an enemy who thrives only in our minds."
Biazi winced. He avoided Vatima’s fire-spitting eyes the best way he could. Vatima contradicted her initial assertion that a wise person must recognize the urgency of every mission with her new stance. Why she resorted to attacking this viewpoint, which he had tried to explain to the people in a different way, surprised him.
“This time, we’re not going to let myths of heroes and villains cripple us,” Vatima urged the gathering. “We have to advance into the war zone. Go for your weapons of war. Apply tact and let’s advance into the frontiers of war. Don’t let fear undo your resolve to fight. Atlantis is ours for the taking," she beamed chivalrously. “Thank you for your time gentlemen and ladies of the Locci!”
Biazi observed that Vatima Hansi’s variant perspective of the Locci's mission, though in line with other areas of their plan, gave rise to dissention among the cheering Locci. While a few favored her militant approach, the majority murmured against it.
Biazi also noticed how the grayish pocket of cloud dashing over the crimson moon sank across the skyline with the light of dawn, which bathed the whole place with a kind of enchanting luminosity.
The Locci assembly were rattled by a loud cackle from within the pale cloud overhead. Jolted to their feet by the voice, the Locciens gazed at each other like morons.
A huge dove emerged from the cloud, flapping its beautiful wings as it descended towards the Locci high table. The dove perched in front of Vatima, cooing as if leering at her. Lema, the second male on the table, in a swift, calculated move, lunged toward the dove, but it sprang over their heads and landed on the far right on the high table. There, a lady attempted to grab it but the bird’s reflexes were sharper than hers. It twittered away to another position mid-point on the giant table.
“Get that thing fast!” Vatima hollered at the Locciens close to the table, pointing to the strange, elusive bird.
“Easy with the chase. We want that thing alive,” cried Feyai Kame at other members of the Locci who had converged around the table bidding to trap down the dove.
They stumbled on each other and cursed between breaths as the dove flew skywards. In triumph it capered and then dived low toward the free end of the table.
The dove’s features metamorphosed on landing on the table into the radiant profile of Tonka Manu, who stood smiling and jeering at the Locci.
“Tonka!” the Locci chorused, mesmerized.
“Tonka, no doubt,” Tonka affirmed, with a sneer. “And what a beautiful little party you have here!” He glanced at Vatima and other high-ranking members of the Locci who riveted their heads in shame. “Permit me to join in the fun,” Tonka taunted them once more. “I want to belong to a conquering team like the Locci. I’m glad to note that Atlantis is ours for the taking. It's high time we struck. So, brethren, where are your weapons?”
No one spoke. They watched Tonka like a pack of petrified rats, wondering how he got wind of their secret rendezvous.
“Well, since none of you could muster the courage to advance to the war zone as agreed, I’ll like to take the initiative,” Tonka said and brandished a glittering sword from a hidden scabbard. “Here’s my sword. Who is ready to fight the fight of warriors?”
The Locci stampeded in all directions, with most of them dashing towards the range of rocks beyond the hills. Their idea of an escape route ended in a cul-de-sac. Tonka let out a prolonged guffaw on seeing their lead quartet of Vatima, Biazi, Lema and Feyai scurrying off their seats to a dead end.
How could these champions and zealous plotters against divine order so abandon their mission in shame? How fragile human gumption can be in the face of a little test, Tonka thought.
He reckoned the Locci's hurried retreat was temporary. Though they would soon reorganize and strike back in secret, he knew a bigger shock awaited them.
Several meters away from the scene, the embattled Locci remembered some of their inherent powers: even in this confusion they still could levitate or dematerialize. They chose the former. One after the other they leaped into the sky with outstretched hands. They gained propulsion that lifted them off from the grossness of Atlantis into the sky. The once alive assembly ground became a desolate bed of fine rock near high hills. Only the cluster of upturned tables, chairs, and canopies reminded Tonka of the place of rebellion of the Locci.
The sword in Tonka's hand vanished in the same manner it had emerged. No alone, not in the least disturbed by the spookiness of the range of hills, he took one last look around the hills, the bird-like flight of the Locciens and chuckled at the ridiculousness of the whole drama.
# # #
“I returned to my body after the incidence,” Tonka recalled.
All eyes in the reception lounge of Tonka’s mansion riveted on Vatima with spit
e, alienating her as the scum amidst the innocent.
Tonka looked at their angry faces and then focused on Vatima Hansi.
“Do I need to explain any further why I called the face-off a tacky one from the start?’ he asked. “No, it’s a great revelation. Vatima is implicated beyond doubt. At this point, we must diagnose her ailment and, of course, prescribe as necessary. A call for rebellion is a germ that needs to be done away with. We'll be kind enough to pardon its bearer, but the germ itself must be eliminated.”
Tonka’s narrative confused Vatima, yet she calmed her nerves and said nothing.
“My dear daughter, Vatima Hansi,” Tonka cajoled in a lilting tone. "Where do you fit into all this? Now, we want to help you determine the root of the problem, but you have to help us understand its nature. Are you willing to submit yourself for scrutiny and accept the verdict?”
Vatima gave a weary nod.
“Good,” Tonka said, addressing the select Atlanteans in the lounge. “Feel free to speak if you have anything to say about our sister Vatima.”
Vatima shivered at the thought of gallows, the obvious verdict to which Tonka's accusation pointed. She saw spite etched on the faces of those in the lounge like a spectrum of weird strokes. She did not need the wisdom of a sage to know that Tonka had convicted her of the crime, though he avoided passing a direct judgment. She also knew that witnesses to the event would love to see her ridiculed. Absorbing their blows without Tonka's soft touch seemed a grave pain to inflict on oneself. In spite of it, she waited for the inevitable.
The men entrusted with the noose over her head were cautious to step onto the platform and be done with their hangmen’s duty. They had a reason to be guarded. Tonka had warned earlier against prejudice, emphasizing that it could be anybody's turn the next dawn. So, they were careful not to incur his wrath.
Titan Race Page 15