Me Ma Supial!

by Ged Maybury

  “So Let It Be,” murmured everyone.

  The men shuffled out after the final song, collecting their weapons just beyond the door. Pastor Wheeler beamed after them, looking very pleased. His gaze swung around toward Kynn. She dropped her eyes and quickly began on her duties, collecting in the songbooks and kneeling pads. But he simply swept past her, ignored her, and followed the last of the soldiers and colonists out. Judkins was there, holding open the door for him.

  “Judkins,” smiled Wheeler, “are you happy with the equipment?”

  Judkins, letting the Pastor out first, spoke cheerfully, “Yes, absolutely. I just have to finish the set-up, run a few tests. You know.”

  “Of course, of course. Let me know when you’re ready, then we’ll go out and get that nasty little savage. Make an example of him, eh!”

  “Err... you realise that we’ll still have to screen every suspect? Take samples and match the results?”

  “Yes, yes, I know that! But it’ll be a good way to assert our new presence in this place, don’t you think? Might even drive the vermin off, with any luck....” Their receding voices merged into the bird-raucous dusk. Kynn closed the door, glided back into the centre of her sanctuary, alone again.

  I must not hate him. I must not!

  DEFIANCE

  SHOUTING CAME FROM the main gate. Supial voices. And the anguished high-pitched crying of a Supial woman. Other voices too, “You cannot do this! Where is Pastor Wheeler? We want to speak with the Wheeler!”

  Kynn pressed her face to the coloured permaglass of the temple windows, peering out at the most extreme angle possible to see what the commotion was about. She saw two of the new troopers running towards the gates, unslinging their weapons. And others too, Judkins, looking white with fear, running for his lab. The Pastor was hastily donning his most impressive robe and hat, and running to the gate.

  Then a louder Supial voice, one she knew, “We want to talk with Kynn Wheeler! She is our friend!”

  Kynn froze, terrified, just behind the main door. She knew it opened towards the gate, so she knew they would all see her the moment she went out.

  If she went out.

  “What has he done?” cried that heart-piercing Supial voice again, “What has he done? He is not the one you want! He has done nothing!”

  Judkins was running back, his sampling kit now in his hands.

  “Get back!” shouted one of the guards, “Get back beyond the gate, or we will shoot!” More shouting, then a volley of gunshots.

  Silence.

  Kynn flung open her door in that same moment. It was perhaps twenty running strides to the main gate. So very close, really. But she stood irresolute upon her upper step, under the tall decorative entrance-way, trying to take in the complex scene. Everyone was still standing. There were no Supial bodies. She felt herself sag with relief! The guns must have been fired into the air.

  And of course as she had looked out, everyone had been looking back at her, alerted by the bang of her door as she had flung it open. She could see her father’s eyes slitting hatefully at her, his mouth opening to utter some order or challenge.

  She beat him to it.

  “I will talk!” she shouted as strongly as she could, not having raised her voice since the night Mica had gone running, “Here, upon the steps of My Temple!” It was not really her temple, but she said it both to impress the Supials (who already regarded her as somehow important) and to signal the same fact to her father. She looked squarely at him now, angry beyond measure.

  “What is being done to these people now?” she demanded of him.

  He darkened in his fury, but seemed momentarily lost for words, perhaps too amazed by her temerity. And besides, she was still in the Temple, if only just.

  “Let them through!” she commanded to the troopers. She was quivering now, her voice almost hysterical, but she did her best to kept it authoritative.

  The new soldiers, unsure of her authority, glanced at the Pastor.

  But the Supials did not need his permission, and one of them began coming towards her. Her heart lifted. It was Old Leatherback.

  “Yo Leatherback!” she called gladly, remembering her Supial, “Yo, Yo! How’s a-living been?”

  “Terrible!” he growled, still hobbling bravely towards her. She saw, behind him, a frightened young yoodie of perhaps twelve or thirteen years, held by two soldiers. Judkins was eyeing him with strange anticipation. Other Supials where gathered close around, as if to protect him, and more were beyond the gate, a furry throng in their bright bird feathers and animal totems and plain woven fabrics.

  Then the Pastor leaned close to the nearest young soldier, whispering something. Kynn saw the gun come up and fire once. Old Leatherback bucked down upon one leg, his tail whipping the air wildly for balance but finding none. He went further down, further, yet he still uttered no cry of pain.

  “NOOOOO!” she screamed, racing down the three steps of the Temple as best she could in her long white robe, “No! No! NOOO!”

  Old Leatherback lay sprawled, his face a mass of pain, clutching at his left leg. His blood, as red as any human’s, oozed from between his fingers. Kynn crouched, pressed the hem of her robe over the wound, and spoke to him in her own language, having momentarily forgotten every bit of Supial she knew, “It’s going to be alright!”

  Then she looked up at her own kind, in utter fury, and cried, “Get the medic! Get a stretcher! Move!”

  But none of them moved. Pastor Wheeler strode towards her, seized her with brutal force, and dragged her to her feet.

  “Maggot! How dare you!” His slap stunned, but did not hurt. Her lip was split but she did not have time to consider it.

  She shook her head and spoke just seven words, “This is not what the Lord wants!”

  He hit her again, then a third time. She said no more. She knew she did not need to. She did not care any more. She simply did not care.

  SHOCK

  THE NEW DUDES RETURNED to the village, feeling triumphant and proud. But the villagers did not welcome them in the usual way. Instead a troubled silence hung in the air. Mica, his happy grin fading reluctantly, looked around at the silent eyes.

  Wallaroo saw it too. “What gives? What is so bad?”

  “The Humans have used their damage-sticks on a Supial,” came the reply from many quarters, “They hit Old Leatherback. His leg is bad. Very bad.”

  “Old Leatherback! What happened?”

  Everyone looked to Feldspar, who Mica now noticed was also there. Grimly, Feldspar began on a story as if he had already told it five times over. Amidst the many interruptions and horrified cries, Mica heard about how Old Leatherback had been struck down. Yet amidst his own horror he also found a great sense of relief: So Kynn Wheeler is alive!

  “That Kynn Wheeler!” said someone after Feldspar was done, “She is one cool Dudettie!” The Supials nodded, murmured agreement. Mica was silent, and avoided everyone’s gaze. But he still felt their eyes upon him.

  “They say she will be put into that box again for this,” continued Feldspar, “I tell you, the Humans are mad! They are worse than animals! They have venom in their hearts, says my Manta Ray, venom!” He spat on the ground as if the venom was in his mouth, and in the very word ‘Human’.

  “Why are you here then?” asked Mica, still wobbly with the shock of all this news, “Why have you come home?”

  “They sent me to fetch Burrawang and her Books. The Healer thinks the damage-stick put a metal stone into Leatherback’s leg-bone. He needs to consult the Old Knowledge so he can get it out.”

  Mica fingered the Story Wheel he had brought back for the Place of the Ancestors, wondering how he could get it to light up and speak out all its knowledge. Maybe it was the very one they needed.

  There was a bustle of activity on the deck of the Women’s House. Burrawang was coming down. Lorikeet came behind her, carrying a bundled squarish package. Was she going into the danger of the Humans as well? Seemed that way.

/>   With much talk and preparation, gifts and farewells, a large party set off into the forest, towards the coast, and the village went quiet for a long time after.

  Mica was feeling terrible inside. He should have told them about those damage-sticks. He had heard those little stones hitting the spiky fence as he had gone over it that night. But now it was too late. What could he do now to help?

  He stood in the middle of the village fingered his scar (still soft and sensitive) and let his tears fall and fall and fall. Helpless. Shaking all over.

  Platypus noticed and took him to his new home in the Single Dudes’ House. There he had a good cry, and spoke of his troubles to the other dudes there. They stood up at the end of this, silent and unsure, and left him alone. Curled upon his new bed, staring wide-awake at the wall.

  KYNN LAY, STARING RED-eyed at the wall. Her lip hurt, but it was nothing compared to her back. The cane had left fierce bruises, and in places these had begun to blister and bleed. Fortunately the Pastor had been impatient to begin, striking directly onto her clothing. Her temple gown had saved her skin from worse damage but was now ruined, blotched by her own blood as well as Leatherback’s.

  She clutched it now, bundled in her hands, wondering if the lovable old Supial would survive. She knew those guns were high-powered, designed to kill. She knew enough to guess that the bullet must have become lodged, shattering bone, for she had seen no exit point... Quickly she flicked her mind away from that memory.

  But it would not go away. The whole scene, the whole day, kept playing out in her mind.

  She prayed aloud in a whisper, “Oh Lord, please forgive him. And save the Supials. Please, please save the Supials! Make sure no-one else gets shot.”

  Then she wept again upon her ruined gown.

  Later, easing oh so carefully, she turned upon her belly in the hope of getting to sleep. She made no sound as her wounds pulled painfully.

  I must not hate him.

  MICA LAY AWAKE THE second night home, still thinking about Feldspar’s story. About the young yoodie, dragged into the Human’s village. He had a scar on his shoulder, apparently, an old scar after running into the tip of a fishing spear. But the Humans had not listened to this. They had seen that scar, grabbed him, dragged him to their place and stuck him with some needle thing, so he had said. Seen his own blood inside a little jar. To Mica it meant one thing.

  They are looking for me.

  In the middle of the night he sat up silently, feeling suddenly determined. He knew what he wanted to do, and it meant leaving at once. Mother Moon was up late, nursing her latest baby, so that was good. Mica slipped from his new house, into the night, hurrying eastwards through the gardens. He knew he could make it by lunchtime, if he did not stop.

  “WHAT ARE YOU DOING here!” hissed Manta Ray as he came up her ladder, “You fool of a dude!” Mica said nothing, just slipped inside, frightened and hungry. She let him past, looking nervously up and down the street, then quickly let the shell curtain drop back over the doorway. She turned to face him, hands on her hips.

  “Don’t you know what is happening?”

  “Yes, I know, and I’m here to stop it!” he answered quietly, sitting by her charcoal tray to rest from his journey. There was a crock-pot on the coals and her house was full of the smell of fish in coconut milk. He looked longingly at the pot.

  “May I?”

  She sighed, “Yes. I suppose Feldspar has already eaten elsewhere.”

  “Where is he?”

  “At the Healer’s house.”

  “How is Old Leatherback?”

  “It’s not good. The wound is terrible, they say, going to pus. Burrawang is right now reading on how to cut the whole leg off if it comes to it.”

  Mica hung his head, weeping as he pushed food into his mouth. It tasted of nothing. “We must save him,” he said, “I will go to Kynn Wheeler...”

  “You will do no such thing!”

  “But I must! I will go and tell them I am the one they want.”

  “Mica! They will do to you what they did to her!”

  He looked up, alarmed, “Is she in that box again?”

  “That elder of theirs, that horrid Pastor Wheeler...”

  “Pastor Wheeler? But they already have a Kynn Wheeler...”

  “Oh! Don’t you know anything? That is her father!”

  “Ah! So she is in good hands then, for he is their wisest...”

  “No he is not! He is the worst of them all!”

  Mica was confused, “But you said he is her father?”

  “Mica! They are Humans! Leech worms are better than them! That venom-heart father of hers he hit her in the face, we all saw it, and later we heard her screams as we waited outside. He was hitting her some more, inside the house they call the ‘temple’. We heard him roaring like a randy king-lizard. It was awful! And we were all too frightened to do anything, the Humans with their damage-sticks, Old Leatherback on the ground...”

  Manta Ray began to cry, which surprised Mica. She had always been so strong. He finished the food in silence, feeling that it would not be right to comfort her. Not because of Feldspar, but because she was still so mad with him.

  He finished, and folded his meal-leaf tidily.

  She sat, still glaring at him. Finally she said, “Tomorrow, they say, that Pastor one wants to speak to the whole Village.”

  “What about?”

  “The Moon only knows, Mica! The Moon only knows!” she answered crossly, “But I reckon it will be about some new bad stuff they have for us.”

  Mica was silent, feeling unhappy. He was thinking too – if only Kynn Wheeler would come out. She would fix everything. He would ask her, if he could get to her. She had said – if he ever came back – that she would meet him in the Temple. It was one of their buildings, but which one? He had to take another look over their fence.

  “Do not go out tonight,” Manta Ray said right then, as if she had heard his thoughts, “The Humans walk in our village with their damage-sticks every night now, like they own the whole place.” Her face twisted into a mass of emotions, “And we! We let them! I have never seen such fear! Life is no good here any more! The Humans are a bad thing. Totally a bad thing!”

  “KYNN?” CALLED A SMALL, nervous voice. She woke, moved, muffled a cry of pain, and quickly sat up.

  “Who is there?” she whispered towards the main Temple room.

  “It’s me, Judkins. May I come in?”

  “What do you want?” she demanded angrily, still in a whisper.

  “I’ve brought you some of that healy sap.”

  “But the camera! He’ll see you!”

  Judkins appeared in her doorway, framed against the moonlit windows behind him. “It’s okay, I’ve tampered with the surveillance system. He won’t see this, even on rewind. Anyway, if it comes to a whipping I’ll take that risk.” He held out the jar, his voice conciliatory, “You need this more than I do. It’s... it’s the least I can do.”

  “It is not your fault,” she said, graciously.

  “Let me see your back.”

  She turned from him, put her hands up behind her neck, and inched her T-shirt up. It was stuck in places and she had to tug it off the weeping wounds. She heard him gasp at the extent of the damage. Then she felt his tentative fingers smearing on the healy sap. It stung at first, then began to feel good.

  “What’s in this stuff?” she asked, through tightened teeth.

  “I’m ashamed to admit that I don’t know. But I’ve kept some for analysis. I really should get onto it sometime.”

  “It was very kind of them to give us so much,” she said, trying to draw out of him some opinion about their hosts.

  He seemed cautious, “Yes, they’ve been very kind. Not that bad, I suppose.”

  She became bolder, “Doctor Judkins, can you stop him? You know, my...” she choked on the word, “...father.”

  “I’m afraid it isn’t that easy. He is the One, you know, appointed by Saint Curran hi
mself. And the troopers are very loyal...”

  “The troopers are morons! Hand-picked for their stupidity!”

  “Quiet!” Judkins froze, staring uselessly at the wall in the direction of the Pastor’s residence. “Please, Kynn, don’t make him angry again. He is trying to do the best for everyone.”

  “Huh! And so what exactly will he be doing for Old Leatherback?”

  “Who?”

  “The old Supial! The one who got shot today!”

  “Oh. Um, I don’t know if... that is...”

  “Healy sap won’t help him, Judkins. Did you see his leg? Did you see it?!”

  “Shhh, now stay calm.”

  “You could do something for him, couldn’t you? Bring him into the med-unit, get a video feed up to Doctor Nam, work on his leg together?”

  “I... um... no, that wouldn’t be advisable. Besides, it wasn’t my fault that...”

  “Yes it was, Judkins!” she whispered furiously, “You and your samples! Trying to catch Mi- I mean that Supial who broke in. That is what started it!”

  “There’s more to it than that,” he answered with a little more passion than his usual nervous limpness, “I’m getting together some important data. Working with Doctor Kei Nam. We just need a bit more time, a few more samples. There, I’m finished.”

  She pulled down her T-shirt angrily and turned to him, “Huh! Like some scientific result is going to be any help!”

  He looked hurt. She relented, letting her voice soften, “Well, anyway, thanks for the stuff. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to be left alone.”

  “Sure.” He went to go, then seemed to remember one more thing, “Oh, by the way, Doctor Nam says hello and – as she put it – ‘hang in there a little longer, kid’. Thought you’d like to hear that.”