Me Ma Supial!
Page 16
And now she had become a waster too; wrecking a perfectly good survey plane.
And him. Pastor Wheeler. Just twenty kilometres behind her, and probably angry beyond belief. He still had the codes! He still had all the power! He would eventually get back to Base and it would all start over again.
Oh Lord! Will this ever change?
“Rain!” shouted Mica ahead of her. He sounded very cheerful about it.
Indeed it was raining, and getting heavier by the moment. Within minutes a dozen or more miniature waterfalls were steaming down the canyon walls and the little stream at their feet was rising fast. A deep panic seized her.
“Mica, we've got to get out of here!”
“Up there!” shouted Mica, splashing downstream. She ran after him. He was already monkeying his way up a sturdy root that hung from a tree above, a tree that seemed to be growing out of pure rock.
She didn't trust it, but Mica did. He went up rapidly, hand over hand, and peered down at her from the tree. “Come on! It's easy!”
She stood for a few more moments in the rising water, still looking up. The cliff went up beyond the tree at least another ten metres, and it was already streaming with muddy water. He was hanging by a hand and a tail, reaching his other hand down to her.
Then something went past her in the flood, something that squirmed violently. Moments later another one swept directly onto her leg and she screamed.
Leech-worms!
She went up the root at speed, feeling the scars on her back stretching painfully. Whimpering, she dragged herself higher, grasped Mica's outstretched hand and let him haul her up the last two metres into the impossible tree. Twisting in horror she looked down at her leg. The sticky finger-length leech-worm was still there, nuzzling its blind sucker mouth across her flesh. She wrenched it off with a roar of sickened rage and flung it into the floodwaters below. Mica had not hesitated. He squatted, his nose bare inches from her skin, swiftly running his hands far up the cut-off legs of her coveralls.
She gasped and froze in sudden psychological shock.
“No more,” he announced cheerfully, “Come on now, water’s getting deeper.”
He was off up the cliff again, scampering up the thin web of roots that hung down from above. Kynn followed more slowly, with rain and dirty water pouring relentlessly into her face, her mind whirling with a thousand confused thoughts.
Soaked and exhausted she flopped beside him at the top. Recovering, she looked down. The stream was now a muddy surging torrent, already licking at that first tree. Without Mica she would now be dead: a fresh-drowned corpse already feeding a hundred leech-worms. She shuddered at the thought and tried to fight off another hundred images that sprang unbidden to her mind, quickly lifting her gaze. There was little to see, just a rain-blurred landscape of trees and crags closed in by the storm and devoid of all sense of direction.
“Now what?”
“I'll climb a tree.”
She groaned. “Whatever for?”
“Look around. See the way on.”
“Uh, yes, good idea. And we need shelter. A fire. Food.”
“No worries!” Mica ran up the ridge towards the biggest tree. Kynn rested, still breathing hard. But not for long. She jumped up, suddenly realising that even here there was enough soil to harbour a few more leech worms.
“Mica! Mica! Wait for me!”
SHE SAT, PART WAY UP the slippery tree, trying to see around. The rain was easing. To the south she could make out a large valley. East and west she could only see a jumble of lumpy forest. Mica eventually came down from his perch and took her hand as he often did as he spoke to her.
“Not far now. This river will take us right down.”
“But it’s totally flooded.”
“Rain always stops.”
“When?”
“When it stops.”
She sighed tiredly. “Let's get on anyway.”
They moved on, slithering along the undulating ridge, occasionally swinging off the edge under the twisted trees that grew at every angle. It was getting late but Kynn had ceased to care. He mind had become empty, her emotions had settled to a kind of grey blank hopelessness. There was no longer any future, no past, just this eternal journey through this crazy wet landscape. And below, on her right, the muddy torrent roared relentlessly in its sculptured limestone cleft.
Then the sun came out, the view widened, and Kynn stopped in amazement. Ahead the river dived deep under a thin arch of rock, then turned left to skirt around a huge tree-covered massif. To the west of that there seemed to be a way through a narrow cleft in the rock-mass, directly down to the main valley, now tantalisingly close.
But was it the valley?
“We're going to have to go across that bridge!” she called anxiously to Mica.
“Cool!” he replied.
KYNN DID NOT LIKE THIS. She did not like it one little bit. It must have been at least twenty metres down to the river. They had to ease their way down a series of giant bush-choked steps to access the natural bridge. The worst of it was that at its centre there were no trees at all, just a thin fuzz of some tough moss-like plant. There were no hand-holds at all.
Mica reached the final level and simply strolled across the bridge as if it were just an ordinary walk in the woods. He was across in about ten seconds.
He turned. “Come on, lovie!” But Kynn remained clinging to the last sturdy shrub on her side, frozen with fear.
“I can't!”
He came back. “How come? Your feet are stuck?”
“No, no, I'm scared.” It was ridiculous, really, she had been in a spaceship ten thousand kilometres above the ground, completely fine. But this was different.
“I'll carry you then,” he said.
“No!”
He was looking closely at her eyes. “Kynn Wheeler, you are looking at the river.”
“Yes.”
“You need to look at the top, where your feet will go.”
“I, I can't. I keep looking over the edge.”
“Then look at me.”
She raised her eyes, met his eyes, tried to stay looking.
“Now,” he said, taking her hands, “just follow me.” And he began to walk. Kynn had no choice but to follow, or else drag them both to their doom. Step after step. She looked down almost immediately. He told her firmly, “Stay with my eyes!”
Step after step. His deep brown eyes sparkled, full of something: love? Intelligence? Amusement? Focus? She could not tell which. Maybe all of them at once. And then she was over, she had branches to hold, and there was lots of solid ground under her feet! Phew!
As she calmed down, clinging to a sturdy tree, she suddenly realised that Mica had just walked the whole thing backwards!
WITH THE SETTING SUN in their eyes, they emerged from the cleft and realised they were already well into the main valley. There seemed to be a path here, an ancient way between the trees. A path made for Humans or Supials, with steps cut into the rock, leading them down. They sensed, at last, something other than wilderness.
Kynn felt filthy. She was sure she stank. Mica didn't seem much better, his fur was matted with dirt and he had about him an odour she hadn't previously noticed. Was it the Human food he had been eating? Or something else? She felt her guts turn over every time they were this close, and her mind frequently went back to last night. Lying with him, she had felt... No. She must not think about it, must not!
Her insides squirmed, imagining the voice of her father, his utter disgust, his judgment, the violence that would have followed had he been there.
Oh Lordie, will I ever escape from him? I even have him right inside my mind!
GHOSTS
PASTOR WHEELER CROUCHED low over the crude double bed of dirty tree fibres, sniffed repeatedly at the bedding, then stood up quickly. “You animal!” he whispered.
He turned and faced to the west, speaking as if she were right in front of him, “You have done it this time, my girl, you have final
ly gone beyond the line! You disgusting little animal!” Then he raised his eyes skyward, “Lord, I have tried, believe me I have tried, but even I cannot make a fire hot enough to cleanse this sinner! She is no longer my daughter! She is a demon! Cast her into the Pit! Teach her what I cannot! Burn her in eternal damnation! That little worm! That maggot! That little fornicator!”
The other men, gathered near the aircraft, turned in alarm as his tortured voice rose to a crescendo. Of course none of them dared go near him. None of them even dreamed of comforting him. Instead they crushed their own misery more tightly inside themselves and gazed hopelessly at their disabled transport, all too aware of the wilderness around them.
Soon the Pastor came back. “Don't stand there like morons!” he shouted at once, “Organise the supplies! Make a camp! Orientate yourselves to the enemy!”
He went on into the plane, still furious. The main cabin still smelled of smoke and fire retardant. In the cockpit the pilot was poking haplessly at his instruments.
“Well?” demanded the Pastor.
“I’ve calculated her approximate position by reviewing the radar records at the time of the attack,” he pointed to a 3-D map on the screen, “She flew down this valley, descending all the way, which suggests her charge might have been low. But we lost radar at that point so I can’t tell exactly where she landed. I'll order a satellite scan of that area and...”
“Just tell me where she is!” snapped Wheeler.
“Here,” said the pilot with a sudden increase in certainty, scrolling the map westwards and pointing to a spot east of the big river.
The Pastor brooded a long moment, then said, “I will go after her.”
“We don’t have enough supplies for a long march.”
“I said I will go alone!”
“Ah yes, of course you did, sir.”
“Isn't there some sort of range-finder in this plane?” snapped the Pastor, “Some remote control thing?”
“Yessir, G.P.Com. Right here sir,” he opened a panel, unplugged an instrument and passed it over, “With this you can contact me, the colony, or the mother-ship, it transmits all data types, and you can't get lost. Continuous global positioning. I’ll relay you satellite results as soon as they come in.”
The Pastor took it, glanced at it, strapped it on, and left the plane without another word. Outside he called to the first man he saw, “Soldier! Give me your kit!”
“Ah ... yes sir! Of course, sir!”
“And your gun!”
“But ... yessir.”
Wheeler strapped the equipment over his robe.
“Alright. Smith; you're in charge. Secure this area; guard the plane. Shoot every Supial that comes near it. Use them for food if you need to. Understood?”
“Yes ... sir!”
It was a relief when the Pastor vanished from sight over the edge of the ridge. Although they did not admit it, they all hoped he would never come back.
MICA FELT NERVOUS AS he led Kynn toward the caves. Was this right? What would Wallaroo think? And the Ancestors? Still, the Ancestors had let him come this far. And Kynn Wheeler was loved by the Supials. And they had come in a different way, so he hadn’t breached the secrecy of the Men’s Path. So maybe the Ancestors were totally cool; eh? Seemed like it, so far.
Kynn walked beside him, murmuring and marvelling at the traces of civilisation she could perceive all around her. The three metal domes, a central roadway, a washed out bridge, and remnants of irrigation works and orchards. But why, she wondered, had they abandoned this place?
At the cave entrance Mica stopped, nervous. She noticed his hesitation. “Is it not right?” she asked, remembering her blunder over cutting the trees.
“I came here with men,” he answered, “and you are a female.”
“I am not a Supial though. And anyway, where do the dudetties go for their Woman-time? I have heard the talk in the Women's House and I’m sure they come here too. I mean, is there another place also like this?”
He sighed, still uncertain.
“We are together,” she said, taking his arm, “and as Wallaroo said, nothing is stronger than love. Come on, I have to know if I can turn those wheels into books.”
As they went in, the lights came silently on. She had half expected it, but still took a fright. Which seemed to make Mica act braver. Wrapping a protective arm around her he led them deeper into the hillside until he stopped outside a doorway.
“This is the Ghost Room,” he explained, “I’ve been in here. We were all very brave, we faced the Ghost in there!” Curious, she went nearer, already getting a tantalising glimpse of the interior. Mica said hastily, “No. Only the Old Dudes know the words to call out the ghost. The Knowledge Wheels are this way.”
But Kynn was still curious. Suddenly she moved, sliding from under his arm and crossing the threshold. The lights came up and she gasped.
“Oh! Look at this stuff! How did they get it all down?”
“Down?”
“Their pods, their landing system. And without sea-landings too!”
“I don't understand.”
“Ah, never mind. Look! A huge 3Dvio unit! Let's see...”
As she approached it, the pilot lights came on. A proximity sensor had been triggered. She peered closely at the information screen, touched the sensor pads, scrolled through the menus. Paused to gaze a long thoughtful while at just three numbers: 10/06/2303. Almost a hundred years after her birth.
Then she noticed that something had been pre-set to play. She touched the sensor to start it. The hologram shimmered hesitantly into life and a human-sized figure coalesced in the centre.
“The Ghost,” whispered Mica.
“My greetings to you, people of the future,” began the image, “Welcome back to the place of your genesis. I am Sonya Goonawarderra, Chief Geneticist and the last of the original Settlers. You do not see me as I am, but as you are. It will be easier for you that way.” She momentarily glanced away, as if checking something. Kynn looked in that direction too, but saw nothing.
“I trust you are surviving well. We made you so you could. And so far it has been very successful. Incredibly successful! Even as I speak a new baby is being born in the next village, and another one is due at the coastal site. People everywhere are growing up happy, learning how to be blacksmiths and midwives and herbalists and farmers and hunters and builders and singers and all the myriad crafts we have given you.
“But you also need to know that you can always come back for more information if necessary. In the adjoining rooms is all our knowledge, our history and every bit of technological information you shall ever need.
“But I want to emphasise, as you need. For there is information here from a time long gone, and a place left behind; stories we hope you will never need to know; and technology we hope you’ll never need to use. So sample it wisely, and with great caution. And if you do choose to use it, do so with utter care, accounting for all consequences, and with everyone’s consent.
“For we have decided that we will not deny you your history. We cannot make your decisions for you. You are our children, quite literally, and of course we’ve already given you everything we think you need.
“So please prosper. Always teach the knowledge songs, and be safe and free in the forest. And now,” concluded the image of the old woman, her face flushed with emotion, “I must bid you good bye. God be with you, and farewell.”
KYNN WATCHED IT ONCE more, silent and awed, while Mica kept back. But she did hear him whisper at one point, “It is always the same.”
“Do you want to know what she is saying?”
He nodded. She triggered it again, then stood beside him, translating as best she could. When it was ended, she began poking at the controls again, intrigued by one particular line, ‘You do not see me as I am, but as you are.’ On the dusty screen she saw all the familiar computer words: File, Options, Versions, Settings...
She kept trying the menus, looking, looking...
“Where is her fur?”
“She had no fur, Mica. She was a Human like me. Your ancestors...” she hesitated, then decided to tell him, “your ancestors were all Humans.”
“We are Supials!”
“Yes, you are Supials. And Supials are good. As good as Humans. Better, in fact. In this place, in this forest, your people are better. They fit here. Humans could not have survived, at least not as well. This woman here was very wise and very skilled. She knew how to change her people, her children, into Supials.”
“Is that what these technobytes do?” he asked, “Did she use these things?”
“Yes, most probably, or something like it. And the new babies would have had tails, and better ears, and better stomachs for eating the food, and the girls would have had pouches. This is what they must have done. To make Humans into Supials.”
Mica looked at the image of the old woman. He understood now. This was not a ghost, it was a message from long ago.
“So, Humans are really just Supials inside?”
“Y-yes. We’re the same, essentially.”
“Then we can have babies!” he said joyously.
“Maybe,” answered Kynn, nowhere near as enthusiastic about it right then, “I have a friend, Doctor Kei Nam. You’ve seen her in the skimmer screen. She might know how to make it happen, if... when she gets here.”
Then she quickly changed the subject, “So, where are the Knowledge Wheels? I'd like to see that room too.”
PASTOR WHEELER WAS wet through, but did not seem to care. Striding on, slashing at the maddening vines and huge water-loaded leaves, he followed his device on, and on. Leech worms tried to latch on to his legs but he burnt them away with his laser, hardly slowing his relentless pace. And at sunset he found the skimmer.