by T J Trapp
“I see there are both sexes in the fields. I only saw males in the city.”
“Yes, the mothers prefer to use us males for city drones.”
“But the women – the females?” Alec corrected himself quickly, hoping the drone would not notice his error.
“Of course we need females for breeding. Such a messy business. It would be much easier if the orbs laid eggs, like the mothers do.”
“Of course,” Alec said.
“Here in New Haven we breed most of our drones,” the drone said proudly. “We do not sully our lines with culls unless we have to.”
“Like this cull,” Alec said, shaking his head in mock disgust.
“Yes,” the drone said, looking equally disgusted. “We only supplement with culls from the surrounding wild orb herds when we are short of males.” He looked at Alec, raising his eyebrows with a certain sense of superiority. “I am a locally-bred drone. We are so much better than the wild drones. We do not require the training, and the damage that occurs, that is dispensed to the wild ones.”
Alec nodded knowingly. “And the females?” he asked.
“Obviously most of the dronish females are disposed of at birth,” the drone said.
“Obviously,” Alec replied.
“You have never been to the pupping barns, have you?” the drone asked Alec.
“No, I have not,” Alec answered truthfully.
“I am glad I do not have to tend to the breeders,” the drone said, “especially of the field drones. It takes over a dozen years for a dronish female pup to become old enough to have growing cycles. Such a long time. After five or six years of growth, the unsuitable ones are discarded. Then the suitable ones continue until they are ripe, and then they are bred. And then it takes almost a year for them to grow a pup. Time that is wasted.” He shook his head. They walked on in silence for a while, then he leaned over to Alec.
“I once had to attend to a pupping process – to this day, it makes me slightly queasy,” he said conspiratorially.
“Oh?”
“Like all low animals, unlike an elf mother, the dronish female keeps its eggs inside its body until the egg is ready to hatch. When the time comes, the female goes to the pupping barn where the freshling emerges, right out of her body! It is a horrible sight.” He shuddered slightly. “The breeding females are expected to be pupping again by the end of their next growing cycle. Once a female can no longer pup, we use her as dragon food. See that female?”
The drone pointed towards a scrawny naked woman bent over in the field. The woman had tattoos down her back. “Each tattoo is a record of when it had a pup and what sex it was.” Alec counted eleven tattoos running in a row down her back. “That female looks too skinny to be growing an egg this year. At the end of each growing cycle, they check all the females. If after two growing cycles a female is not growing an egg, it is no longer fertile, and we will not waste feed on it. It will be disposed.”
“Oh,” Alec said, somewhat taken aback. Then he cautiously asked, “Where are the … pups?”
The drone gave him a hard look. “You must not be a locally-bred drone,” he said.
“No, I am not,” Alec said, truthfully.
“In New Haven, we city drones are raised in a drone nursery. We have an advantage over field drone nurseries – we are trained from an early age to be ready to serve the mothers. I remember when I was picked to serve my first mother! It was the highest honor! My mother was a high-ranking member of the Disca and was given much respect. I was fortunate – when I was a freshling of six, I was picked to be educated for a mother’s service. After six years of training, I was picked for consideration for serving a mother. At that time, I was considered to be quite good-looking, if I do say so myself!” The drone smiled slightly at the memory. “And when I was sixteen, I was banded and given the privilege of starting my service to my first mother.”
“Your first mother?”
“Yes – about six years ago she met with an awful fate – bested by a wild orb – and was slain.” He shook his head. “Then I was picked to serve a lesser mother – the ideal of how a ‘perfect drone’ looks seems to have changed with time, and – well, I am older now. My mother now is not a ranking member of the Disca, and, as you know, is one of those sent to follow after culls.”
“So – what happens to the drones who are not selected to serve the mothers?” Alec asked.
“Oh – the others? The lesser drones, they are not suitable to serve a mother. If they are not selected for training at the first reaping, they are sent to the fields or become workers. The ones who have gone through training, but are not selected at the second reaping, become artisan or crafts drones to support the city. A few even wear amulet diffusers and repair and maintain the city equipment.”
The conversation was interrupted by a slowdown in their line. Several mothers and their clutchmen were in the distance. All the walking drones were forming a long line.
“What is happening?” Alec whispered.
“Just the routine inspection station for us returning drones. You know.” The drone looked again at Alec. “Is this your first time?”
“Yes,” said Alec, truthfully.
“The mothers will check us and see if any of us need retraining. Any drone that has been unbanded will be sent to be retrained. It is no big deal; I had to be retrained after one trip. They sent me back to the Drone Master’s pens, but I was out in a few days and back to serving.”
“Unbanded. What is that?” Alec asked.
“When we do a cull, some of the drones are in close contact with the newly-harvested. If we wear our bands, we would have to do anything that an undisciplined newly-harvested demanded. You can imagine how bad that might be! Without bands we are not compelled to obey the newly-harvested, but still desire to obey the mothers, of course. It is inconvenient, but it allows us to work safely around the uncivilized. Occasionally, one of the unbanded goes rogue, so the mothers retrain any that were unbanded as a precaution. I much prefer the protection of my band!”
As he said, that the line slowed. They were at the end of a long line of naked drones waiting to be checked. The lead drone took the strap and rolled it up and held it as he waited in line. Alec watched the process with increasing concern. As the line inched forward, he could see three mothers sitting at a station set up in the middle of the road. Alec and his drone companion were separated into different lines, one line before each mother, but each line followed the same process. Each drone came forward in turn and knelt in front of the mother. Then the mother would touch the drone and wait a moment. Most of the drones were allowed through, but a few were directed to the side. A clutchman chained them together, where they stood patiently waiting to be sent for retraining.
This won’t work. I cannot disguise myself from the detailed scrutiny of a mother. Alec became increasingly anxious. He knew his emotions would only increase the likelihood of being detected. What can I do? As they waited in line, Alec noticed that a group of field drones had reached the end of the field close to him. One of the field drones broke ranks with the others and, staggering slightly, with a glazed expression kept moving across the road in front of Alec’s processing line.
“Too much purple mushroom,” muttered a drone.
The processing clutchmen noticed the errant drone and barked commands for him to return to the field, but the drone’s mind was so foggy that he didn’t understand. One clutchmen drew a small whip from his belt and lunged towards the wandering drone, lashing him. The drone did not respond to the whip; a second clutchmen pulled out his short spear and stabbed the drone in the stomach. The drone silently collapsed in the field. The clutchmen watched the drone until he no longer wiggled, then moved back to the processing line.
This might be my last best chance.
As the drones and the clutchmen watched the commotion caused by the errant field drone, Alec quickly stepped out of line and darted into the field where the worker had been. Quickly he bent over the
line of crops. The lead field drone looked at him, shrugged, and pointed at a half-filled sack. A worker is a worker, I guess, Alec thought, and scrambled to pick up the sack. He was in a field of waist-high scratchy green plants with puffy white patches. Must be some kind of cotton, thought Alec. The lead drone came over with a short whip he had drawn from his waist belt. He popped Alec once, and Alec started pulling the white patches. The lead drone watched him pull the fluffy bolls and corrected him twice. Then he turned from Alec and went back to checking on others.
Out of the frying pan, but what kind of fire have I gotten myself into?
9 – Drone Training
Colin was tired and covered in dust when he reached the gates of the Queen’s Residence. He knew that his mother would want to hear his report as soon as he returned but he was reluctant to face her. The quest to find and quell the dragon had not been the glorious expedition that he had expected – instead it left him with harsh memories of death and destruction, shaken and unsure of his abilities.
“Welcome home, Lord Colin,” the stable master said, as he took the reins of the worn trogus. “I will alert Queen Therin of your return.”
As he strode through the entry hall of the residence, a happy shout greeted him. “Uncle! Uncle!” and Leon came racing across the room.
“Uncle Colin, did you bring back the head of the dragon for me? I want to see it!”
Colin swept the little boy up toward the vaulted ceiling, glad to see a little face so full of life. Leon squealed in delight.
“No, we did not slay the dragon, but we did chase it away from the village.”
“Was it big? Did it breathe fire? Did it eat people?”
“Yes, yes, and yes,” Colin said. “It was ferocious, and terrible, and dangerous.”
“Where are Daddy and Mamma? Are they with you?” The little boy started to run to the front courtyard, but Colin stopped him.
“No…” he began, only to be interrupted by the excited boy.
“When will they get here? Did they kill the dragon? Are they going to bring me its head?”
“No, my young pup, they are not with me. I don’t know when they will return.”
He could sense a note of disappointment in the boy’s voice. “They didn’t come? I couldn’t sense them when they were gone because they were too far away. I want to sense them. When will they come home?”
“No, they didn’t come with me. They …” He stopped. Then he continued, choosing his words carefully. “They are still out there with the elves. Chasing the elves. Looking for the dragon.” He ruffled his nephew’s hair. “They’ll be home … soon.” He wasn’t sure how to tell a small boy that his parents might be dead, and that he might never see them again.
“Now, let me pass – I must report to the Queen.”
He strode down the hall to the queen’s chambers. She looked up from her scroll as he entered.
“I have only just now received these messages from Pome,” she said. “Tell, me, son, what transpired.” She motioned to her minister to leave. “I will receive Lord Colin in private.”
“Very well, my Queen,” said the older man, leaving the room.
“I sense that you bring bad news. Tell me. I need to hear it first from you.”
“Yes, Mother. If you have heard from Pome, then you know the good news. We fought and almost beat the dragon. Our riders were very brave.”
“Yes, I heard that part. What have I not heard?”
“Consort Alec used his wizardry and the dragon fled in fear. We chased it and drove it away from the village.”
“And the Pomites? I hear that there were some villagers lost.”
“Well, yes, a few. The dragon killed a few.”
“How many?”
“I’m not sure – maybe three or four dozen …”
“A few.”
“Well … I’m afraid most of the villagers are … gone.”
“And?”
Colin hesitated. He did not know how much his mother knew. “Well, Erin told the villagers to flee, of course. And they did. But I guess then the elves found them, and took some of them.”
“How many?”
Colin looked at the floor. “Many.”
“Yes, Consort Alec told me about the elves’ cull, and their slaughter of our people, when he came back for more equipment for his wizardry. But I have not heard of what transpired after he left here to rejoin you and Erin.”
“Well, Mother, if you spoke to Alec then you know that we went in pursuit of the dragon, and to find and rescue our people.”
“And then what happened?”
Colin could hold back no longer and released a torrent of words.
“Mother, it was bad. Really awful! I was the only one who escaped. We chased the dragon and the elves who had taken our people but then we entered a gorge in the foothills of the mountains and the elves tricked us and we were trapped and Erin tried to fight them off but they had elf mothers who coerced her and then she fell and I tried to use my wizardry lessons to help her but then something happened and I fell, and then they ambushed Erin and took her.” He stood there, trembling.
Queen Therin looked at her younger son. His first quest had not gone well.
She sighed.
“I can sense that Erin is still alive. I am grateful that you are, as well.”
“Mother, I don’t know what happened. I don’t know what happened to Erin or the people from Pome, or the rest of our riders who weren’t killed. So many were killed! They killed Rand.” He stopped, struggling to control his emotions. “We … I … after they were slain, we piled the bodies in a pyre, and Alec’s crew and I gave them a proper departing ceremony. At least we could do that for them.”
“And Consort Alec?”
“He arrived after the battle, then he left us to go after Erin and the villagers and the riders who were captured. He sent me home to report to you.” He opened his hand. “I have Rand’s ring,” he said softly. “That’s all that is left of him now.”
The Queen rose and put her arms around him. “Son, you are leaving almost as much out as you are telling, but you still live. And my daughter still lives. While she lives, there is hope for her.” The Queen sighed. “She has been in desperate situations before. And so has her consort.”
“What do you want me to do, Mother? Should I take a force and go follow her? Try to find her, and Alec, and the other riders?”
“No, I need you here in Freeland City. Until Erin and Alec return, you are the strongest wizard we have.” She patted his shoulder. “I fear the elves have bigger plans than just to capture a few dozen people from our little mountain village of Pome. I need you to stay here in the city and help me to defend it. I do not know what enemy we are up against. I am not as strong as my daughter, but I am able to defend my people. And I will fight to the end to do it.”
✽✽✽
The trek after passing through the obscuring field was a blur. Erin remembered a few things from her visit here over five years ago. She remembered walking through the forest and past the croplands to the elves’ city, and passing through the ornate gates into New Haven; the entry hadn’t changed. The walk was long, her mind was still swirling from the nauseating illusions, and she was hungry and thirsty. Her feet were sore and her bruises from her battle with the elves were slow to heal.
Once inside the city her strapline of captives was marched to the drone training area. Erin noticed that the rows of small pens in this sector were mostly full; each small, ungated pen held a naked person, kneeling and staring at the ground. One by one the captives on her strapline were released from the strap; they were taken to a training area that was marked off with lines forming spaces little more than an arn wide and only slightly longer.
Erin was taken to one of the spaces and ordered to kneel.
“On your knees. This is your place now and you will be expected to keep it clean. Eyes down. Stay down, and do not let any part of your body cross the line,” a brusque voice commanded.
The routine in the drone training area was quickly established. Erin was part of a group of about fifty new trainees; they quickly learned that they would suffer excruciating pain if they did not explicitly and meticulously follow the commands given. The only reward was the absence of pain.
The routine was the same day after day. A training drone rang a small bell. Each of the penned trainees was allowed to stand, leave its pen, go to the public latrine, and then the open water basin to clean itself. After washing, the trainees were expected to render their pen spotlessly clean. Then they were given a brief time to eat – more of the same tasteless gruel that Erin had been fed while on the chainline. By now she was accustomed to it and found it filling, although not good. After the feeding the Drone Master appeared: an athletic-looking elf woman, clad in a jumpsuit instead of the flowing elf robes, who showed no expression or emotion as she barked commands at the new recruits. Obeying the Drone Master and the other trainers was easier than Erin expected. If she followed directions, she was not punished. Not being punished became a reward. She experienced extreme pain from the neck band if she deviated from the things she was taught.
The days became a blurred experience of extreme pain and repetitious training. Any minor deviation from the commands of the trainers brought another round of pain. Erin was expected to be kneeling any time that she was in her little area, including when sleeping. To awaken and discover that a limb was outside of the area, or that she was not kneeling properly, brought more pain. After some failed attempts, she found that the little marked-off area was just wide enough and long enough that she could sleep while kneeling.
I wonder what the other captives think is going on. At least I understand the purpose of what we are doing. I know that I have been captured by the elves and am in their Drone Domestication Facility with the intent of turning me into an obedient slave. The others have no idea of their fate. All they know is they will be punished if they misbehave.