Me Ma Supial!

by Ged Maybury

  But he had not always been like this. She had some good memories, just a few, of a man who laughed, who patted her head and smiled and said ‘good girl’.

  But there were precious few of those sort of memories. Precious few.

  SINCE THE COLD-SLEEP her past seemed to have been swirled together and made unreal, as if it had been locked into some long-ago fantasy world. After she had been revived by Dr Kei Nam they told her she had been asleep for ninety-eight years. Ninety-eight years! Which now made her one hundred and thirteen years old. So weird.

  No-one had told her the other numbers, the time-compression factor; the velocity they had attained, any of that technical stuff she had a curiosity for. But they did tell her that the astronomy had been exactly right. There were eleven planets around this far off sun, and the fourth one was almost perfect. “Earth-like” as Doctor K kept saying. Her father had named it “Prophesy”.

  Kynn remembered the day when the long range probe sent back its results. Water; oxygen; temperature – all okay. The relief, the joy, the praying and thanks. It was the only time she had ever seen her mother and father hold hands and smile.

  That had been almost a year ago, now. It had taken them five months to decelerate into orbit. Another three for the scanning and planning. Then the Drop, that frightening descent in the pod. The roaring and shuddering. She had been sure at one point that they were all going to die.

  She remembered her first step into the new atmosphere; hit by the heat and the strange smells. She remembered the unfurling of the Lord’s Banner, her father’s grand speech, the colonists falling to their knees, praying and weeping.

  And then what a mess it had turned into. All that rain! Those hideous leech worms, wriggling out of the mud by the thousands, biting and sucking! The flood that began at dusk, all that surging brown water rushing across the clearing, sweeping all before it. The sight of the two pods rolling over, over and over, away through the trees. She remembered being up a tree, watching it all in the stark glare of the floodlights. Then the generator stopped and the lights went out, leaving them in the darkness and the rain. She remembered the sound of her father’s voice just above her in the tree, praying mightily: demanding that the Lord send help.

  Hah! But he did not like the help when it came!

  Now, in this killing heat, how strange to wish to be back in the flood!

  SHE DRANK HER EXTRA water sparingly but it did not last long. As the sun crept across the sky she lay panting, roaming in her mind, thinking of anything to pass the time and hasten the cool of the night. And her mind kept going back to last night. Those two Supials; just walking in! Incredible! Like Father’s prayer, answered again. I may hate Him, but I will not stop believing in the Lord. I will not!

  Finally Judkins came with her only meal of the day, two dry sticks of decompressed bread (bread that was 99 years old and looked like it too) and half a cup of water, hastily passed in as if He might appear at any moment and shout “No!”

  It seemed that Judkins was trying to make up for something, as if he were guilty of letting this happen. “You’ll be fine,” he kept saying, not looking at her.

  “Remember last night?” she said, ignoring his prattle, “after you left the gate open...”

  “Did I?”

  She changed her mind suddenly. “No, no you didn’t. I, ah, I must have had a dream. Thanks, for the food.”

  “You’re welcome,” he murmured, hurrying away. Back to his lab, most probably. Back to his selfish little obsessions.

  Kynn sighed, and tried the bread. “Urh!”

  The afternoon dragged on. Feeling exhausted and hopeless she lay, gazing blankly at the utilities shed. There was Skimmer 3, her skimmer, still plugged into recharge as she had left it. Looking at it reminded her of her freedom, of being out in the Supials’ forest, and suddenly that memory became too much to bear. Carefully she turned around in the box to face the other way. The other end was exactly the same, barred with the same pipes, but at least she had a view of the alien forest beyond the fence and gardens.

  The smell of her own urine was stronger at this end. She had had to pee out through the bars at first light, thanks to the extra water she drank in the night. Even so, watching the trees was better than watching the buildings.

  A movement in one tree caught her eye. Some creature was scuttling up into the high branches, so smoothly the leaves hardly quivered. It paused, clearly silhouetted against the sky. No, not some animal, it was a Supial!

  She moved to see better, burnt her shoulder on the metal roof in her haste, and cringed down again, still peering at that tree. Was it one of those dudes, as they called themselves? Mica, or the other one? (What was his name again?) She remembered Mica best. He had been so kind.

  She watched the Supial in the tree. There was no doubt about it; it was looking right at her. Carefully, using her sleeve to prevent another burn, she slipped her arm out between the bars and waved once.

  He waved back.

  She felt tears starting, but held off crying. She could not afford to lose more moisture. Instead she let herself smile. Someone cared. At least someone cared.

  INVADER!

  SHE HAD WAVED! MICA's heart beat like a dance drum. He waved again – then nothing. He kept watch, wondering why she stayed in her tiny house all day. It would be so hot! And where were her friends?

  But he was sure of one thing — she would need water again tonight. And he was ready for that. On Feldspar’s advice he had waited until the Human called Judkins was in the trading store, then went in with his beautiful lizard skin. Judkins had taken a fancy to the skin, gazing at it like it was a prize he had long wanted. And Mica came away with the prize he had wanted: one of those marvellously thin metal jars like the one Kynn had lent him to use last night.

  Except his was bigger!

  He had the jar with him now, up the tree, but of course Kynn Wheeler could not see it. But later, tonight, he would use it to fetch her lots of water. He had organised a good pole for getting over the fence if he had to. But he hoped he would not have to. The Humans’ wall looked flimsy but the top looked sharp. He hoped Judkins would come by and leave the gate open again.

  He looked down. It was open at the moment, allowing the Human gardeners to come and go, but oddly a single Human always stood still, gazing about lazily. He was holding some sort of misshapen stick which hung from a shoulder strap. Which ever way the human turned, the stick turned that way too. Mica thought it was a useless-looking gardening tool, and the Human didn’t do any work with it anyway. The other four did, the females. But there was no singing or talking. They were just bent down, busy, ripping up a lot of good plants and throwing them away, exposing the funny-looking ones that only grew in straight lines. Very odd.

  At dusk they all went in and closed the gate.

  Mica waited a long time, until all was quiet in the Humans’ village, then went down. In the light of the setting moon he retrieved his pole. He tied a length of fishing string to its top end and looped the rest loosely into his belt, then paced out his run-up. With the water-jar secure in his woven backpack he went back to his starting mark, breathed three times, and began.

  The jump went well but the pole was a little short. He let go and dropped lightly into the darkness on the other side. The pole hit the fence with a dull bang and bounced away. The string tugged out of his belt as he landed. He grabbed it quickly, hoping to bring the pole back to the fence so he could get it over for the return jump, but the string went suddenly slack – cut by the sharp fence-top.

  He was trapped.

  KYNN HEARD A METALLIC bang and jerked awake. Instantly her nightmare returned, the thirst, the pain and the misery. It was still night, but cooler than before. Fearfully she peered into the darkness, wondering who, or what, was out there.

  A door banged open in one of the colonist’s houses, spilling out strong light, and two silhouetted figures looked out. She instantly knew who the taller one was.

  “Don’t bot
her, you little maggot!” shouted her father. “You’re there to be cleansed, and cleansed you shall be! Don’t expect any mercy now!”

  Perplexed, she did not answer. The other figure, perhaps Judkins, murmured something to Wheeler and they both went in. The darkness resumed.

  MICA WENT TREE-STILL the moment the door opened. He saw the light and the two Humans, heard the shouting. His heart was beating fast. He did not understand the words but he certainly got the tone. He hadn’t heard a voice like it since Acacia had thrown Bandicoot out for visiting other women in his spare time. (They called him Randy-coot after that.) Acacia had been furious that day, full of anger and hatred. But this voice was far worse.

  Mica waited for more, but the humans went back inside. Breathing easier, calming his heart, he made his way to the little house on sticks.

  “Kynn?” he whispered, “Dudettie Kynn Wheeler? You in there?”

  There came a sound from within, a startled scuffle, then her face appeared at the bars, softly lit by the westering moon. “Mica!” she whispered huskily, “You’re back. Did Judkins leave the gate open again?”

  “No,” said Mica proudly, “I got in other ways. Hey, I can fetch you water again! Lots of water. Look!” He showed her the water jar.

  Her eyes shone in the half-moon light, like they had been crying, or were about to. But she said, “You shouldn’t have come. You’ll be in big trouble. Please go away. Get yourself safe.” Then with a dry sob she added in her own language, “Oh what’s the point. We’re all doomed.”

  Mica did not understand those last words, but he understood that voice. He reached in and took her smooth soft hand and held it tight, even as she tried to pull it free. “Is alright, my Kynn Wheeler,” he whispered, “I love you. I care for you.”

  Even he was surprised by this.

  She continued to sob dryly, coughing roughly now and then, but as quietly as she could. Mica held her tight, wanting very much to hold all of her, and murmured nice things, sang her a song, told her the funny story of how Crocadilly came to have six legs. She cheered up enough that he could hurry away to fetch her water from the thing called a tap. Near the tap, he noticed, was a small stack of pipes. Quietly he lifted one by its end, hoping it would make a good vaulting pole. It was cold, heavy, and hollow. No good at all. He laid it silently back and returned with the water.

  She drank greedily, then filled her own little jar right to the top, then drank some more. As he waited, Mica began to notice the smell of urine close by. Was it hers? Did this mean she had not been out of this box since his last visit?

  Suddenly he was frightened. Was she trapped in here? Was that man shouting his vile anger at her? But why?

  “Get me more water,” she asked, “I want to wash my...my house.”

  He brought her more. She splashed it around at the far end, washed her legs, then poured the rest down onto the ground where the pissy smell was strongest.

  “More?” he asked, getting the jar back.

  “You must go now,” she whispered, “He mustn’t catch you here.”

  “No, I will stay all night! I am Mica, and I love you!”

  She made a sound, halfway between a laugh and a dry sob, and said, “This is my village. I say you are to go. And thank you for coming. Thank you for the water.” There were tears in her eyes again as she squeezed his hand one last time, “I’m sure the Lordie sent you. But I still don’t understand. It only makes my torment worse. But I will not give in. I won’t...”

  She paused, crying a little, racked by an emotion stronger than she showed. She stopped again and said in a ragged whisper, “Please stay away now, Mica Supial, don’t ever come back. He’s just waiting for any excuse. Any excuse.”

  Mica did not understand. He was worried now. Frightened and worried. She shouldn’t be in there. Something wrong was happening.

  “Tell your people to read my book,” she was saying, “and then they must ask to read the Wordolord. Got that?”

  “Wordolord,” he repeated.

  “Good. Now please go. I’ll be alright from now on. They will give me water tomorrow.” She paused as if stirred by some terrible inner decision, then continued, “But later... if you ever do come back...you will have to visit me in the Temple. I... I’ll be dressed in white.”

  They held hands one last time. Mica, confused and with tears in his eyes, finally let her go and headed towards the little building with the water tap. He had decided to try one of those strange metal poles after all.

  “No!” she cried loudly from behind him, “Not that way!”

  He stopped, turned, was ready to go back to her when a door suddenly banged opened. The same door as before.

  KYNN GASPED IN HORROR. This time Mica was closer to the Pastor’s house and the light, streaming out, lit him quite enough. She was about to hiss a warning when her father shouted, “I warned you, Maggot! What does it take for you to relinquish your ...?” The voice faltered. Then, “Guards! Break out the weapons! One of those demons has broken in!”

  She saw Mica run towards the water-hut, closer to danger, and seize a length of pipe. The pile of pipes rolled apart with a noise like strangely tuned bells, adding to the growing chaos all around. Mica looked confused.

  “Get away!” she urged as loudly as she dared, “Go!”

  She watched in mounting horror as Mica ran in a wide circle, holding the pole horizontally, seemingly lost. “Hurry!” she called more loudly, but it only seemed to have the opposite effect. He paused, turned aside to look at her. Then she realised she had not been speaking Supial.

  And all the time Pastor Wheeler’s voice kept roaring, “Awake! To arms! Invader! Invader!”

  MICA FINALLY IDENTIFIED the length of wall where he had come in, braced for his run, and hesitated. He did not want to leave her. Looking around he could see her silhouetted against the light, kneeling in her tiny house, face pressed to the bars, looking at him but calling something to her fellow Humans. Mica had never heard a voice so frighted.

  There was a bang. Something whizzed past him. Kynn Wheeler screamed; a horrible gut-wrenching sound. Suddenly terrified for his life, Mica ran at the wall and drove the pole-tip into the ground. It jarred stiffly. He went up, too slow and too low. With a twist, and using his tail as a counter-weight, he flipped over the top.

  Something ripped at his chest. He saw a spike flick past his face with a tag of his own flesh quivering on its tip, and then he was over, dropping, feet hitting the soft ground beyond. He rolled onto his back, over the water jar in his back-bag. This second pain almost cancelled out the first.

  Clutching at the wound on his chest he rolled further, back onto his feet, and sprinted for the welcoming shadows of his own familiar world.

  SHARK

  “HOW’D YOU GET CUT LIKE that?” asked Pumice next morning, gazing seriously at the long shallow slice running up Mica’s chest. Feldspar and his lovie Manta Ray looked on with equally serious expressions.

  “Went over something in the dark...” murmured Mica, wincing as Pumice tried to pull the edges together. New blood broke through the old crust that had matted into his fur. “...Ow!”

  “I’m going to fetch the Healer,” said Feldspar. He went out through the shell curtain into the dawn light. They felt the house vibrate as he went down the ladder.

  “How’d you get to be so clumsy?” asked Pumice in disbelief, still holding the cut closed against the upwelling blood.

  “That Human metal stuff, it’s real sharp.” explained Mica vaguely.

  “Where was that then?”

  Mica didn’t answer. He kept remembering Kynn Wheeler’s scream. Had she been hurt? Had she been hit somehow by the thing that went CRACK?

  Of course he did not dare speak any of this to his brother.

  Manta Ray revived the fire and put water on to heat. Pumice waited, holding the cut together. As the chookies began to crow Feldspar came back with the Healer. He checked the cut and rubbed on healy sap, then took out a fine metal razor. Mica
had seen one before. They were made by the metal-smiths in Upper Cliff Village.

  The Healer shaved ten patches of Mica’s fur, five each side of the cut, then spread a thick sticky tree-gum onto long strips of fabric and used these to stick and pull the cut together. He sang softly as he worked. The gum stung as it gripped Mica’s freshly scraped skin, adding more pain to all the rest.

  “So, how’d you get this cut then?” asked the Healer as he worked.

  Mica mumbled his vague story again.

  “You must show us where. Don’t want others falling over the same thing.”

  “No, it was... it was their fence-thing. You know, near their gardens. It’s real sharp on the top.”

  The Healer was surprised. “You were trying to get in?”

  “Ahhhh no, just looking over.”

  “You leave them Humans alone!” ordered the Healer sharply, “They’re crazy! There’ll be trouble with them yet, I tell you!”

  Mica felt real bad, and lapsed into silence again.

  Pumice looked down at him a long time, but waited until the Healer had gone. “You’re one complete fool of a Supial,” he said angrily, “You leave that Human dudettie alone, you hear? Snakes-in-a-bed, Mica! Anyone’d think you were in love the way you carry on!”

  Mica looked away, ashamed.

  A LITTLE LATER THEY heard three loud cracks outside. Mica jumped with fright, having heard the sound before. Manta Ray looked out the curtain. They heard her call to someone, “What’s happening?” Then they felt the house shiver as she went down the ladder. Outside they could hear many voices, all talking at once. Troubled voices all.