by Naomi Foyle
‘Now, for the first time, all the women formed a circle and conferred together. “They’re takin’ us to America,” one of the gang-girls said. “They’re gonna dump us there, cos it costs too much to keep us in the style we bin accustomed to.” ’
Someone in the back row tittered. It was funny, the way Nimma was doing the accent. She never mimicked people ordinarily; Astra had had no idea she could do it so well.
‘ “Why would the government take us all the way across the ocean to get rid of us?” scoffed one of the Socialists. “They’d be smarter just to feed us to the fishes. We have to pull together now, and be ready to overpower the guards when they come to get us.”
‘ “If we’re goin’ to the Wild West, I wanna be a two-pistol stripper,” a gang-girl crowed. And she stood up and flashed her Gaia bulbs.’
Around the Fountain, some of the Or-adults and older teens chuckled.
‘What’s a stripper—?’ Astra whispered to Hokma.
‘Later,’ Hokma shushed.
‘Some of the Socialists frowned, but Kali and the Beltane women applauded. Even if they were all going to be murdered, they must never lose their Gaia joy. In the morning the ship had stopped. An eerie silence reigned. Kali realised she could no longer hear the sound of the other ships’ engines or horns.
‘ “Why have they brought us out here?” she asked one of the guards.
‘Unusually, the guard replied. “Too many prisoners, isn’t it?” she said. “They needed to put more ships in the harbour. So you lot’s got to live out here, and I’ve got to work two-week shifts and fly home in a bleeding helicopter.” ’
Astra had to suppress a giggle. Nimma was speaking in a high, complaining lilt for the guard’s voice. She wasn’t a great actor like Modem, but she was okay.
‘So that was Kali’s new life, held without charge, trial or lawyer on a Prison Ship in the Atlantic Ocean. At first, the Beltane women despaired. But then they counted their blessings. Oh, there weren’t many; Kali needed only one hand, Or-children, and she still had a thumb left over. Apart from each other and regular food, there were two things the Gaians gave thanks for: they had the freedom to move their bodies, and once a day they could go outside to walk beneath Gaia’s high blue skies, smell Her salty skin and listen to Her seagulls crying. That was all they could sense of Her beauty. The walls of the ship’s deck towered above them and the women could see nothing of the sea except the gulls and the vile sight of the guards fishing, bashing the heads of their victims with hammers to kill them.
‘At first every day was the same: a long tense mixture of fear and desperation and snatches of gratitude. But then, as the first week adrift turned into the second and the third, though nothing changed, everything changed, for the women discovered that they had Gaia’s great gift to look forward to. Kali and three of the gang-girls were pregnant.’
Nimma paused and looked through the Fountain at Sorrel. Sorrel smiled around the Circle and stroked her swollen belly. Beside her, Congruence and Holaa admired her heavy curves. In Astra’s lap, Sprig yawned. Other younger children were slumping too, she could see. Yoki was leaning against Klor’s stump, his eyes closed, mouth open. Klor cast a meaningful glance at Nimma.
‘Like all good stories,’ she said, ‘this one is getting longer in the Telling. So I won’t tell Kali’s Birth Story. I’ll just say that the Gaians and the Socialists delivered the babies, and the gang-girls became like daughters to the midwives, and Rhiannon cut the cord of her little Shelter granddaughter with her teeth. And when the talkative guard, whose name was Dilys, asked to hold Kali’s baby, Kali begged her to tell Peredur he had a daughter, still unnamed and waiting for his blessing. Dilys granted her wish and returned saying that Peredur would like the baby to be named Elpis, after the Greek goddess of Hope and in honour of Elphin, who was not very well. And despite that sad news, for six months after her birth, a kind of happiness took root on that grey metal boat. The women nursed and washed the babies and sang to them, and the helicopters even brought nappies with snaps because they weren’t allowed pins.
‘But then one week the shift helicopter was late. It didn’t come the day it was supposed to, and it didn’t come the next day either. The guards were angry and wouldn’t let the women out on deck. Finally, on the third day, the women heard the helicopter hovering above the ship as it let down its lines. It brought Dilys back, and as soon as she could, Kali asked her what had happened.
‘ “Short of money, aren’t they?” Dilys told her. “And short of fuel too. So they’re cuttin’ back on the chopper. It’ll be three-week shifts now for us sorry souls workin’ out here.” She didn’t look Kali in the eye and when the guard left for her next shore leave, Kali was afraid that she wouldn’t come back.
‘Dilys did return, though. And when she did, her behaviour was very strange. She shouted at the gang-girls, and the next day she left all the women out on deck for hours, until they were banging on the door to be let back inside to eat.
‘ “I thought you lot liked being outside,” she said as she finally opened the door. Kali joined the queue to return to their bunks, but Dilys took her by the elbow. “Not you. I want to cuddle Elpis,” she said.
‘Dilys locked the door behind the other women and took Elpis in her arms. Then, with a quick look at the guards fishing by the rails, she leaned close to Kali and whispered, “Listen to me now, Kali, something’s going to happen – something good for you and Elpis, but terrible bad for some other people. I’m not supposed to tell you, but I think you should know. I’m warning you though, if the gangers get wind of it, they might take it out on you and the baby. And if those politicos find out, then the whole thing will be shot and it will be bad news for everyone. So you have to promise to keep it secret. So do you want to hear me, or not?”
‘Kali watched Elpis bubble a smile up at Dilys. “I can’t keep secrets from my people,” she said at last, “but I won’t tell the others.” ’
Too many stories were about secrets. Astra hugged Sprig tighter. The girl’s body was warm and slack and her head lolled in the crook of Astra’s arm. For a moment she almost could have been baby Elpis – except Elpis had only ever been old.
‘ “Good girl,” Dilys said, tickling Elpis’ tummy. “So: one of the internet tycoons, that Server guru, Charles Monteray? He wants your head honcho. Hew Belson. And he wants you and Elpis too.” ’
Astra had studied Charles Monteray at school. He was an important figure in the early Regeneration Era. He had co-founded the company that managed the massive Continental Server in the ash fields. At the sound of his name Hokma grunted softly. Beside Nimma, Moon stroked Aesop’s head.
‘Kali was confused. “I don’t understand,’” she said, reaching for her baby. “Do you mean Hew Owen?”
‘ “Kali, keep your voice down – and let me hold Elpis. She’s happy with me, aren’t you my duck? Yes, Hew Owen. He’s changed his name, didn’t I tell you? He says he’s the son of Beltane now. And a lot else has been happening since you’ve been in here: very important things. All over the world the Server Gurus are cosying up to the Gaians – those of you left, anyway. They need your energy know-how to power their mainframes through this crisis and they’re willing to put up with your mumbo jumbo to get it. The Yukay government’s bargaining hard. They’re calling you Beltane lot terrorists, but they’ve agreed to release three of you. A gesture of good will, they’ll call it. Monteray thinks if he can save a genius, a woman and a baby he’ll make a few international headlines, and that’ll help bring other Gaians on board with the Gurus. That’s going to be Hew, you and Elpis. You’re going to be freed – you’ll be on the next outbound chopper.”
‘Freed. Kali’s heart sprouted wings – but then, like an unborn chick, it remained curled up tight in her chest.
‘ “But what about Rhiannon? And Peredur and Elphin? I can’t leave them,” she started, but Dilys shook her.
‘ “Kali, listen to me: I’m not asking, I’m telling. We’ve got orders
to strait-jacket you and Hew and hoist you up into the chopper. So I think you should say your goodbyes and let your mother know you’ll be safe. I don’t know why, it just seems right. I could lose my job for it, but you know what, I’m sick of those chopper rides.”
‘Dilys laughed, but Kali felt ill. “I can’t go,” she whispered. “I can’t leave them all.”
‘Dilys reached out and grasped Kali’s hand. “You’ve got to think of Elpis, Kali,” she urged. “That Monteray, he’s going to look after you both – she’ll have a chance in life. Do you want her to grow up on this ship?” ’
Before, Nimma had asked the Circle what they thought the Beltane Gaians should do, but this was different, Astra could tell: this was a very lonely choice, not one it would be right to take a vote on. This was a decision a person had to make with the help of Gaia alone.
Nimma lowered her voice. ‘That night Kali whispered Dilys’ story to Rhiannon and Peredur’s mother, and the women wept and held her tight. Then each alone asked Gaia what to do, and to all of them, Gaia said that Kali must go. Over the next two weeks, they told the other Beltane Gaians, one by one, and everyone agreed that Kali must take Elpis away, off the ship, with Hew. If Server Gurus were bargaining for Gaians, then Gaians must seize the power they were offered and use it to protect their Mother.
‘So that is how Kali agreed to leave the Prison Ship, willingly, as Gaia’s messenger. With Elpis bound to her chest, she and Hew were winched up to the chopper. Later – much later – she told Elpis that she didn’t know what she would have done if Dilys had told her the full truth. Would she have told the Socialists and the gang-girls so they could have tried to take the guards hostage? Or would she have kept quiet and saved Elpis’ life?
‘But Dilys had lied, or perhaps she hadn’t known the truth, and so when Kali hugged Hew in the back of the chopper and gave him Elpis to hold and cry over, she didn’t know that all the guards and cleaners and cooks, and the ship’s enginemen and the captain were being airlifted away without replacements, and the prisoners were being left behind locked in their holds, without food or water.’
Nimma’s feet were planted firmly on the ground and her palms were resting on her knees. Her eyes were closed and her face was calm. This part of the story was virtually unbearable. Everyone except the very youngest children, who were mostly asleep now, knew what had happened on the Death Ships from studying History at school or on their Tablettes. But it was different hearing about it in a story: in a story it was happening to people who you knew. The Circle had already drummed its anger into Gaia’s waiting bosom; now, from a host of downcast eyes, Or’s bitter sorrow stabbed the earth. Human harmony: sometimes it could be cold and hard, it could line you up with others like knives in a drawer or arrows in a fist. How was it possible, Astra wondered, to belong to something you could never accept?
When the minute’s silence had passed, Nimma resumed the story. ‘Kali, Elpis and Hew arrived on shore and were sent to live in Charles Monteray’s mansion. A week later the media reported that a storm had sunk all the Prison Ships and everyone on board was lost. Kali and Hew grieved long for their losses – but although they suspected the timing of their rescue was not an accident, it was not until the fifth year of the Regeneration Era, when the Yukay government finally restored elections, that Charles Monteray’s new media empire revealed the truth.
‘The Yukay Dark Time government had decided to eliminate as many prisoners as possible. Elpis and the gang-girls’ babies had never even been entered on official records. Under the State of Emergency, all prisoners held at sea were charged and convicted in absentia of conspiracy to commit treason, and all had been sentenced to death. After evacuating their crews the government sent a fleet of naval torpedo boats out to the Prison Ships, not to save three thousand people from starvation but to drown them, to drive them to the bottom of the Atlantic, to sink this great crime without trace. Except, that is, in Kali’s memory, and in Elpis’ memory and in mine, and now in yours. This story is just one of many that tell how the Gaians were betrayed in their own lands. And that savage betrayal is why, when the Regeneration Era finally began, we petitioned the Council of the New Continents to give us Is-Land to live in and, with Gaia’s blessing, to protect forever.’
The Fountain spray had shrunk low again. Nimma gazed around in the fading light, acknowledging the respect of each of her listeners. Torrent looked fiercely back at her as if offering Gaia his warriorhood; beneath his arm, Stream’s eyes were puffy and wet. Sorrel was softly shaking her head and cradling her belly; Congruence sat poker-backed, chin set, her eyes half-closed as a Kezcam recorded her absorbing the lingering power of the Telling. Astra’s right leg was numb and her arm stiff, but for a moment she forgot her discomfort, forgot that Ahn was still filming. Nimma was her Shelter mother and Elpis had been her Shelter grandmother and that made Kali her ancestor and this story hers to tell too. She would learn it, she vowed, word for own word, and one day she would tell it to her own children.
Congruence opened her eyes. ‘Thank you, Nimma,’ she said, as was the responsibility of the Asker.
Astra gazed at Birth House. Elpis was inside the womb-chamber, listening too. She had heard her story told and felt the deep human harmony it generated. Would she come out to smile at them with her silent, lop-sided mouth?
A pale shape appeared in the doorway: small, like Elpis in her chair, but not in a chair – standing up, moving into the light. Astra blinked, but the figure was still there.
Congruence had seen it too; she gasped and leaned forward, peering through the spray. The Kezcam shot up into the air and the Circle stiffened to attention, adults springing to their feet, Nimma and Klor twisting in their seats and Hokma hugging Astra and Sprig close to her side.
The girl – for the figure was a girl, of about Astra’s age – stepped over the threshold. She was sky-clad and barefoot. Her thick black hair was matted like a sick sheep’s, and her hands were bunched in fists at her sides. She walked steadily down the Ancestors’ Path towards Nimma and Klor. When she got to the Ancestors’ Place she stopped and glared at the Circle.
‘My stomach hurts,’ she said accusingly. In the light from the Fountain, Astra could see her arms were scratched and scabbed, and thick black rivulets of blood were running down her inner thighs. Then the girl clutched her stomach and doubled over, moaning. Ahn’s aerial Kezcam plummeted twenty feet straight down to a spot just above her head. If it was filming the Or Circle, it was recording faces contorted with shock and a frantic confusion of unorchestrated movement: parents sheltering their children; warriors leaping to their feet and into perimeter patrol position; Astra lunging in front of the Fountain, grabbing a pine cone to throw. Behind her, Sprig screamed – then Hokma was on top of her, dragging her back by the waist and, finger by finger, forcing the missile from her fist.
2.3
‘Lil, this is Astra. Astra, meet Lil.’ Hokma’s hand was on the girl’s back, rubbing her shoulders as Astra, her arms crossed, toed the dirt patch behind the Wise House verandah. It was two days since the Fountain night. The girl didn’t look happy either. She was clean now, her hair had been combed into two paintbrush braids and she was wearing a pair of Gaia-blood panties Nimma had organised, but the scowl on her face could have stripped bark from an oak.
‘Hello,’ Astra glowered. She had only been allowed to come to Wise House today if she’d promised to be friendly. It was unbelievable. Wise House was her Shelter home. Why was the frigging girl staying here? And why didn’t she have to be friendly too? Everyone knew that apart from the occasional brief demand for food Lil was refusing to speak to anyone. She wouldn’t wear shoes, either. But even though Nimma said Lil didn’t need to because her soles were hardened, she’d sorted through Astra’s cupboard looking for sandals and boots that might fit her. ‘I still wear those!’ Astra had been forced to insist. Nimma had given her an exasperated look and put her hand on Astra’s brow. ‘You’re not ill, Astra,’ she’d said. ‘I don’t know w
hy you’re displaying such a temper.’
The girl stuck out her hand. But that hand wasn’t friendly, Astra knew. It was on the end of an arm that was straight as a spear. It was a blade, ready to slice her palm open.
Behind them, Helium and Silver and the three current trainee Owleons were tethered to their pegs on the lawn. Helium was slowly blinking his giant orange-planet eyes. Silver was waking up from his afternoon nap, stretching his moth-grey wings like a taut, brocaded shawl. The birds needed to be flown, and Hokma was waiting. Silently, briefly, Astra brushed her hand against Lil’s. The girl was taller than her but she was very skinny. For sure she could take her in a fight.
‘Is she sleeping in my bed?’ she asked Hokma indignantly.
‘She is, but you can sleep in with me, like you used to. I’ve moved your stuff over to my loft.’
Sleep with Hokma? ‘I don’t want—’
‘It’s just for now, Astra!’ Hokma snapped, and blood rushed to Astra’s face. She gripped her dread and began twirling it ferociously between her fingers.
‘IMBOD will soon find Lil’s home,’ Hokma continued smoothly. ‘In the meantime, I want you to be kind to her. Lil knows lots of interesting places in the woods, don’t you, Lil? Maybe if you’re nice to her she’ll show them to you, Astra.’
Hokma was being impossible. Astra flung her dread back over her shoulder and sullenly scanned Lil’s face. The girl’s tea-brown eyes didn’t respond with so much as a scintilla of invitation to the woods.
‘She’s not going to help train the Owleons, is she?’ she muttered.
‘Lil’s going to help clean the aviary pens. She can watch us train the birds if she wants.’
What? Astra wanted to shout again. Why was Hokma being so stupid? This girl, Lil – or so she said she was called – had been spying on them for years – and now Hokma wanted her to observe all their secret Owleon manoeuvres?