by London, Lia
“Hmm. Well, if she had some mystic and mysterious help to gain all that power, then it hardly credits her with being anything special, does it? The hype would be based on something artificial. Anyone could have done it.”
Getting defensive over a grandmother I’d never met wasn’t worth the mental energy, so I dried my hands and pulled my hair back into a loose, untethered braid to keep it from my face.
Saloma pointed to indicate we should follow the banks of the stream, and I could hear the distant rush of bigger waters.
“What are you going to tell everyone at the camp?” I asked.
“That you helped me in Docking Bay, which you did by not revealing my identity in your reports.”
“I won’t be able to stay long. I need to get back to my husband before he’s out of range.”
Her jaw tensed visibly. “You’re going back to space?”
An unexpected sigh escaped me. “Yes. He’s my husband after all.” A longing to be with him again tugged at me with urgency.
“You’ll never survive up there. Your gypsy blood will boil over.”
The rush of roiling waters punctuated her words as we crested a small rise and the stream beside us tumbled into a wider river.
“Perhaps. But I love him. I have to try.”
Saloma pursed her lips but said nothing. With a sweeping gesture, she indicated the campsite opening before us. Twelve tents formed a large circle around a firepit area, leaving one side open to the river’s bank, and for a moment my heart ached at the beauty and serenity of it. Some gypsies dawdled in the shallows, fishing with simple poles. Others splashed a little further out, as if daring the current to take them. A few lounged near the firepit, drinking from camp cups and laughing. It was a typical gypsy camp, except for the pile of weapons outside the largest tent.
Jule emerged from this tent and waved at us in greeting. “We can set her up for the night in the mess tent if that’s all right. I’ll have Dare bunk with me.”
Saloma stood taller. “Did you say Dare? Is he here? When did he get out?” Someone directed her to the riverbank, and she darted off with an air of excitement.
Jule ambled towards me, pausing a few meters away. “Did you eat yet today?”
I followed him down into the ring of logs and rocks that circled the campfire, and he introduced me to the people there, but my mind was too frazzled to remember their names. They probably deemed me a pretty half-wit, unable to form coherent responses beyond the automatic “yes, please” and “thank you”.
When I’d settled with a piping mug of lentil soup, the others seemed content to let me watch and brood. Why hadn’t it occurred to me that seeing happy gypsy families camping would bring back floods of memories, once happy and now painful? True, I’d been ready to leave the gypsy family life and go with Dag, but having it ripped from me by a senseless violent tragedy changed everything. Now nothing could be more beautiful and more awful at the same time.
Tears welled and waited to fall the moment I blinked. I gave up and closed my eyes, feeling hot streaks line my cheeks as I drank my hearty breakfast soup. No one said a word, but twice, I felt someone pat my back gently.
Voices picked up volume, and I opened my eyes to see Saloma returning jubilantly from the water, her skirts damp to the knees. With her, a scrawny man with the gray pallor of long enclosure beamed as he shook water from his skin.
“Is that Dare?” I asked to no one in particular.
Jule, sitting across from me, nodded.
“What’s his story?”
“He just came home after spending a rotation in the Craggy prison.”
My heart stopped with a moment’s fear, but I saw no killer’s mark on his cheek, so his was a lesser crime. I shifted to sit beside Jule. “Want to tell me about that?”
“He attacked and disarmed a member of the Crimson Guard,” said Jule with obvious pride.
“That little guy?”
“He’s over fifty. Very spry and very tired of oppression.”
Saloma’s charisma now filled the campsite. “Dare, having you back is going to breathe new life into this movement. I’m so happy to see you!”
Dare stopped short when he caught sight of me. “But who’s this?” His voice crackled like wood sap in a fire.
Saloma swept a hand in my direction. “Dare, meet Brita.” She thankfully left off any family identification but added, “She has felt what the Crimson Guard can do. Her parents were both taken in Docking Bay.”
A murmur of surprise and sorrow rippled through the camp, and many flashed me sympathetic smiles. A few others tensed and looked to Saloma.
“When do we strike back?” yelled one man who resembled a weathered tree.
“I already did. You know I did.”
Others nodded solemnly, a woman near me murmured. “She got them good, and that’s enough.”
Before I could evaluate the collective mood, Saloma sat and signaled for others to get comfortable. “I’ve asked Dare to tell us what he learned this time in the Craggy Penitentiary.”
This time? I wondered why Saloma revered a repeat offender, but now wasn’t the time to ask.
Pressing into Jule’s meaty side, I made room for a mother with a young girl on her lap, and we all turned our attention to Dare.
“Well…” Dare rolled a shoulder and tugged at his damp clothes to loosen them from his skin. “Most of you know how I got charged with assault for protecting the camp.” He shifted closer to the fire as the gathered crowd nodded or exchanged curious glances. “When I went to Craggy that time, I met others who were dealing with the same kinds of injustices. Seems the stationaries can’t abide sharing even a corner of their land with a gypsy family passing through.”
“They treat us like criminals!”
“We’re not thieves!”
“I’ve never hurt anyone!” chimed in the woman next to me.
Saloma met her gaze with a sad smile. “That may have to change. Hear him out.” She patted Dare on the back and signaled for someone to bring him a blanket. “Things are worse.”
Dare nodded, accepting the blanket gratefully. He unfolded it and warmed it by the fire a moment before wrapping it around his shoulders. Everyone waited in silence as he paced a slow circle.
“She’s right. It’s getting worse.” He heaved a sigh. “We thought it was just Caren. Just the Crimson Guard.” He shook his head and gazed sadly down at his feet, never hurrying his words. “But this is bigger than we thought. There are people out there who want our annihilation.” A sob choked him. “They want to exterminate us. It’s no exaggeration.”
“They can’t do it!”
“We’re too strong!”
“They can!” Dare’s unexpected shout rang out. “They’ve got funds and organizations. I heard things in prison. They’re making money from the mines there on Craggy and funneling it to anti-gypsy groups all around the System. This is big. This is so big.”
The lentils turned to stones in my stomach, weighing me down with the burden of this news. Could it be true?
He went on to elaborate for almost an hour about connections he’d made with other gypsies, sympathizers he’d found among the guards, and all the intrigues he’d heard rumored. Even if half of it were lies, it presented an ominous threat.
I knew I could walk away, board a shuttle to the Arxon, and disappear from this problem forever, and I knew it would take away the painful reminders of my lost parents. But how could I live with myself?
“What do we do?” I asked.
An almost maternal smile spread across Saloma’s lips. “Two things for now.” She stood and turned in a circle as she spoke. “We each—regardless of age—need to learn how to defend ourselves, and we need to build the Network. We’ll go underground for now while we build strength.”
“Underground?” I asked. “Literally?”
She let out a rueful laugh. “Perhaps literally and figuratively.” She held up a finger. “No more markings for now.”
“But where can
we go?” asked Jule.
“We’ll need a place big enough to house hundreds, maybe even thousands of gypsies,” said Saloma. “We’ll need water, shelter, access to food. And we can’t be seen.”
I bit my lip, thinking of the places our family had hidden over the years to protect my mother. We didn’t need to keep those a secret anymore.
Standing tall, I called out, “I know a place!”
21 ~ Training
The Rik Peninsula is lush with both forests and farmland, and its sheer size makes it a unique colony in the System. It curves from bottom to top in a northeasterly direction and runs into a mountain range that acts as a natural barrier to the rest of the sprawling continent. It’s in these mountains my family often hid. I don’t remember how or when, but we discovered an unassuming cave that promised little to the naked eye with its cracked boulder blocking most of the entrance. Inside, however, a narrow passage wound inward and upward about thirty meters, opening on a series of massive caverns. Even more remarkable, the underground springs of water that fueled the waterfalls on the exterior of the mountain also burbled in shallow streams over the rocky beds of the interior.
Claus always said an ancient lava flow carved out the mountain’s caves, and something in the nature of the tunnels and cracks spoke of primordial heatings and coolings. Even now, I examined the first of these caverns, the lowest in the mountain, and marveled at the unseen architect who created this natural beauty.
Saloma, Jule, and Dare, too, seemed pleased.
“It’s not the most accessible for our elders,” she said, “but once inside…” She turned to me and beamed, her smile skewed by the shadows cast by lanterns. “This is perfect, Brita. The Gypsy Network owes you a great debt for finding this for us.”
“It’ll provide sanctuary, at least,” I agreed. “There are caverns extending all the way up, as far as we can tell. The passages are sometimes rough, but I suppose they could be dug out. There’s a waterfall higher up, too. Some other entrances open up at altitudes where stationaries are unlikely to climb.”
Saloma nodded as if assessing the benefits. “We’ll need to figure out light sources and how to cook without smoking us all out, but yes. Yes.” Her voice burbled into a laugh. “This is wonderful. It can be a headquarters for us. From here it’ll be easy to launch up north and reach other gypsies on the continent in Jammu or beyond.”
I sighed. The serenity of our family’s secret hiding place would be forever lost now, but maybe it would be for the greater good. We didn’t need it anymore.
“Let’s get back to camp and start the migration,” said Dare.
Saloma’s head bobbed eagerly as she turned in a wide circle, surveying the farthest reaches of the lantern’s illumination. “Jule, why don’t you stay here with Brita and explore. Think both habitation and tactical possibilities.”
“Sounds good,” he said. “Do you mind leaving the second bag of food supplies and lights? We’ll need them while you’re in transit there and back.”
“Of course.”
My chest tightened. Was she expecting me to stay long? I had to get back to Dag on the Arxon. I had to close out the last of my parents’ business. “But I—”
“We won’t be long,” promised Saloma, as if reading my thoughts. “Teach Jule everything you know about this place.” She unhooked a laser pistol from its holster and handed it to him. “Take this on the off chance some stupid stationary wanders in by accident.” She tossed her head in my direction. “And maybe use the time to train Brita a bit?”
“You’ll be all right without it?” Jule’s brow dipped.
Saloma patted her hip. “I’ve got another in my skirts. Besides, Dare’s with me.”
Dare’s laugh crackled, and he lowered the lantern with a sigh. “Can’t say I love being inside a giant rock, but I guess it’s not Craggy, right? I’ll still be free.”
With a tender side hug, Saloma comforted him. “I didn’t even think about that. I’m sorry. Are you going to be able to stand being in here?”
He shrugged. “I can always camp outside the entrance. Put me on guard duty, right?”
The two of them left the lantern extinguished and continued with ring lights to guide them through the winding tunnel out.
Dizzy with emotional fatigue, I sat down and cupped my forehead in my hands. How had I let Saloma order me to stay when I had my own concerns? Yet I couldn’t find the strength to protest or even think of an alternative.
“You all right?” Jule crouched beside me, setting the lantern down. “You’ve been through a rough couple of days, haven’t you?”
“Yeah. I’m still trying to figure out what comes next.”
He sighed. “Aren’t we all?”
“Were you in Docking Bay?” I couldn’t remember seeing him there.
He settled beside me. “No. Was it bad?”
“Terrifying. Horrible. Heart-wrenching.”
“Was it an even fight?”
My head snapped up, and I glared at him. “It was death and carnage all over the place. Who cares if—”
“How many deaths on each side?”
I thought about the morgue, the bodies in drawers and on tables, and I sank with the weight of the memory. “It was an even fight.”
“Good,” he said quietly. “I wouldn’t have wanted her to take more lives than necessary.”
His words took their time seeping into my brain. “Saloma?”
Jule place a massive hand on my shoulder with such tenderness I almost cried. “She means well with the fight for gypsy rights and all, but she can be… zealous.”
“You don’t think we should be fighting back?”
“I think we need to be able to defend ourselves.” The unspoken disapproval of aggression did not escape me, and I felt I’d found an ally in Saloma’s camp.
Drawing a calming breath, I stood up. “Come on. Let me show you around. About three levels up, there are patches of etak crystals growing. I bet we could find a way to cultivate those elsewhere for light.”
OOO
I don’t know how long we spent exploring the caverns because no sun marked the passage of time, but we opted to come to rest in the cave that had most often been our family’s home when we journeyed in this area. It was roughly round with high ceilings and a diameter about twelve meters across. The black walls glistened with an unusual smoothness, and natural indentations formed shelves perfect for storing our goods. Tiny fissures above let in fresh air without exposing us to sunlight or rain, and clean water tumbled from a small opening in one wall and disappeared into another hole not far from the center.
The particular glory of the space, though, was the presence of so many etak crystals. Etaks, bioluminescent shards that grew out of the rock face, emanated a pale blue light and shone like prisms of glass. My father always compared them to coral that likewise resembled rock yet grew and lived.
To my knowledge, only gypsies were aware of this odd natural phenomenon because stationaries never ventured into the recesses of volcanic caves, but then stationaries with their electricity would find the light inferior.
“How long do you think it’ll take the others to get back to us?” I asked, sitting cross-legged near the fountain and dipping my camp cup into the stream. It had taken the four of us two days to get here. The longer I waited, the more expensive it would be fore me to rejoin the Arxon.
“With a group that size and the extra gear…” He squinted, and I wondered if by extra gear he meant weapons. “Six days, maybe?”
A sinking feeling filled me. Dag would be worried at my delay, but what could I do? I glanced at our meager store of dry fruit, nuts, and felly flower seeds, the latter a childhood favorite of mine. “We’re going to have to eat light,” I observed.
“There are quail in the shrubs outside. I bet we can hunt one or two to cook.”
I scoffed. “Maybe you can, but I am a terrible hunter.”
Jule stretched his back. “Well, Saloma did say you needed to be tr
ained. An edible target is good motivation to practice hard, right?”
“She wants me trained with a gun?”
He rested his wrists on his knees. “I understand if you’re squeamish. Here’s how I see it. With the growing hostilities towards gypsies, I’m going to have to defend myself, but if I don’t feel like killing, then I need to aim carefully.”
“What? That makes no sense.”
“Actually, it does. Someone without any training is going to fire wild and cause all kinds of damage and death. Someone with marksmanship can disable a shooter by taking out their hand or arm.”
I remembered the cool expression on Saloma’s face as she methodically sliced through the semicircle of Crimson Guards. Could she have ended the conflict without killing?
Then my mind’s eye saw my father steeped in blood, gasping for air, then gone.
“Teach me now.”
OOO
The next four days passed in a blur of strange activities for me. Jule was a patient teacher who never mocked my fumbling efforts. He worked with my prior knowledge to teach me new skills. Hand-to-hand combat became a mental exercise as much as physical as he taught me to use leverage and strategic blocks to avoid having to pit my strength against his. All the years I’d spent hiking and swimming paid off in the power of kicks he allowed me to unleash upon his burly midsection, but he counseled me to aim for more strategic targets when fighting for my life.
“Everyone knows about the groin,” he said after one grueling wrestling match. “But there are others, too. Look at my nose. Is it any stronger than yours?”
I blinked, then laughed. “Uh, no?”
“But I’m over twice your size.” He cocked his head to one side as if challenging me.
I squinted. “Am I wrong?”
Tapping his nose with his fingertip, he leaned closer. “Any nose, if hit with a solid palm-strike, is going to make the eyes water. There will be some distracting blood and a possible break, too. But no matter what, the person will stop attacking for a second to attend to it. That’s when you make your getaway.”
