by Nōnen Títi
Out of curiosity, Benjamar took a walk with Remag to have a look at all the new life forms. “There is some symbiotic relationship between those underground tubers, the little grubs on the land, and those starches, but I have no idea how they fit together,” Remag said. “I’m not convinced that it’s the animals – if that’s what they are – that live off the plants. It could well be the other way around.”
Benjamar referred him to Kalgar and Frantag. The little river creatures were indeed special, but… “The time is not right for me to make a ruling as a judge. Have a meeting and have them make some laws. I’m not in charge here.”
A meeting was held and agreement reached: The river would remain out of bounds except for those assigned to collecting water. Washing could be done elsewhere. Kintji, the botanist, would recreate a hydroponics tub for the DJar seedlings that would come down from SJilai, for which they would use river water and hope for the best. The cattle would be restricted to a large paddock to prevent too many plants being trampled.
Of course, it was one thing to come to an agreement, but something else to have a mas of people honour it. Some ignored the rules and there were no guidelines on what to do about that. Others, like the crop-farmers, came to Benjamar to complain.
He told them to sort it out with Wentar, suggesting that maybe they could help harvest the natural starches. After all, farming was about growing food and the objective was the food supply, not the DJar crops specifically. This was a matter for a government, a notion that brought back the need to look at the political issues that had emerged right before the storm, but Benjamar didn’t mention that to Kalgar and Frantag yet. Better to wait until the SJilai population was back down.
Other people also wanted to involve him in what was not his business. “It’s not right to keep putting all the Habitat Three people together; it’s creating ghettos,” Maike told him.
“You are right, but you’re talking to the wrong person. Kalgar and Frantag ultimately run the show.”
“I’ve always considered you more of a leader than either of them.” She also wanted a building to be used as a prison.
“Is that necessary?”
“It will be, Benjamar. Believe me.”
Again, he told her to go find those planning the town.
Tini came to see him after he requested she do them all a favour and find a way to heat the new homes.
“I don’t know how. I’m no good at planning. You saw what happened last time,” Tini said.
“Don’t you go and hold yourself responsible for natural disasters; you’re not some sort of super being. Learn from it and try again.”
“How can I learn from what lies buried under a pile of mud?” she asked. The plan which she had spent all the years on SJilai designing had not been retrieved when the men dug out Kalgar’s home.
“Go find those who knew the plan. Sit down together and try to remember what you can.”
One evening, Nini came to his tent. “How are you coping, Benjamar?”
“Why? Keeping an eye on me in case I sit down again?”
She produced one of her warm smiles, which neither denied nor confirmed. “Only making sure.”
She sat down on the mat, legs folded, unmoved by the simplicity of the temporary shelter. It made no difference for Nini where she was; she belonged here… somehow. Once again, he made the connection to music in her presence. He closed his eyes for just a moment and allowed himself to float on the waves of his body as it reacted to the pure notes: waves, inappropriate for his age; waves he had not permitted himself since his sons had grown up; waves which embarrassed him. He pulled himself back into reality and wondered if she knew.
She had come to ask about waste disposal for the new town. “Irma says there is a big risk of contaminating the drinking water in a situation like this.”
Benjamar told her what he’d told Maike: To go and talk to the people planning the town.
At least everybody was thinking, each coming from their own background, the way it should be. Only, they should talk to each other rather than come to him.
When the emergency foodbars from SJilai were used up and the new foods were still being tested, a decision was made to slaughter some of the zibots. They were not doing very well and had suffered more from the storm than the smaller batis. The batis were thriving and two had given birth since, which meant they were producing milk that could be made into cheese. Two batis for a mas of people wasn’t enough, but it was a start. The fishing kabin returned without edible animals or plants, but it had bags full of tiny krill-like organisms that didn’t harm the cattle and were now being tested as possible people food as well.
It was amazing, really, that the lack of food had not caused more problems. Benjamar had never felt weakened from not eating all those days after the storm; in fact, he’d felt a vigour for action he could not explain.
In the meantime, after some trial and error, the new homes were taking shape. The first ones had looked like misshapen sand castles, but the latest ones were solid. Many hands working together made the new town grow fast and the physical labour kept people warm. Divided into teams, some fabricated bricks, which were used by the next group for foundation and chimney, and others plastered the gaps and made door and window spaces. They would be covered later with plastic sheeting that was to come from SJilai.
Benjamar got his own small home: Two rooms divided by a half-wall and an excretorial, which was little more than a hole in the ground in a recess at the back and held the old unit. From now on, each resident would be responsible for disposing of their own waste. That was fair enough. Like on SJilai, each person had a mat – most of them had been recovered and dried – and a chest. This time they had also made sure each home was slightly raised from the surrounding walkways and that those led away from the town area.
The design of the town was functional; a grid of intersecting streets around a central plaza. Benjamar’s home was south, toward the river. It took him maybe half an hour to get to the northern-most street, but his sense of timing might have suffered since arriving. He moved in on the second day of the last moon of Station Three and had three visitors on the very first night: Daili, Maike, and Nini, all separately, had decided to come and have a look. They huddled together by the fire, a mild glow in the corner recess, lit from pieces of packed soil, which reminded Benjamar of Skawag’s home. It was a good enough excuse to open the pouch of wine he had procured before the storm.
They discussed the changes in town and the effects on their bodies. Daili wondered if Tikot would suffer from the increased gravity when coming back and asked what long-term changes they would notice on their health, their height, and their longevity.
“If you notice Benjamar shrinking, give us a warning,” Maike joked.
Benjamar thought it was more likely that the length of the seasons or the rapid rotation would have an effect on their longevity than the gravity. “But if life is shorter, you won’t find it out from me,” he said, trying to make fun of it too.
“I thought it depended on how fast your heart beats,” Daili said.
Nini disagreed with all of them. “The only thing that influences the average lifespan of a species is the manner of its procreation. Once they have ensured the survival of their offspring they have done what they’re there for and they can die.”
“In which case, I’ll live forever,” Maike said.
“So why don’t people die as soon as their children are independent?” Daili asked.
“Because at one time the older generation was needed to teach and care for their grandchildren or to guide the kennin, while the middle generation provided food. Long ago it helped our species to have old people. Since then the evolution process has reversed. Even without the Life rule, the average lifespan will decrease on DJar,” Nini said, with a smile at Benjamar.
“I’m treasuring every minute of it,” he promised her.
Daili pulled them out of their dreamy mood by mentioning that she’d he
ard those rumbling sounds again. They had been faint, far away, but recognizable. “As if they are a warning about us moving here.”
Benjamar exchanged looks with Nini once more.
“It’s probably animals, maybe from under the soil,” Maike said.
Benjamar agreed with her. What else could it be?
When the homes were finished, the last food supplies came down from SJilai with Aryan and, like the fire fuel, were immediately rationed. Yet there was enough water, the homes were relatively warm, the weather seemed calm, the batis did well, the DJar fish in the pond were still alive and so were the seedlings that had come down from SJilai in their new boxes. All in all, life was starting to look better as Station Four began.
Benjamar had no complaints. Every day was a bonus for him, but other people did feel the need to express their grievances, increasingly so as the storm was forgotten and the prospect of a very long winter loomed. Debates flared up for or against introducing more drastic measures to ensure food and fuel, especially between Roilan and Frimon, who accused each other of being short-sighted. This time, Kalgar and Frantag worked together. That, at least, the storm had achieved, but it had also caused a great loss.
“I feel useless without any papers. We’ve got nothing to go by anymore,” Frantag said.
Kalgar argued the need for new plans. “We can’t go living from one disaster to the next.”
They were not alone. The confidence of the majority of people was gone with the loss of their scientific guidelines, their government guidelines, and most of all, their judicial guidelines. That became only too apparent when Maike came to Benjamar’s home during the second moon. Benjamar was sitting on his front step, as he often did.
“I’ve had it, Benjamar. I’m sick of being attacked. I’m sick of all the useless fights. I hate locking them up after the storm, but what else can I do? If one of them is not confined they find each other. It is almost a game, but it’s a dangerous game.”
She went on to say that she had just now locked Leyon in a cell, once again for attacking Thalo, but soon it would be the other way around. During the storm both had been locked up, which had forced her to go breaking down doors in the middle of the deluge.
“I’m almost sorry I didn’t leave Thalo in there when the water started coming in and I can’t guarantee I won’t kill one of them myself soon. What else can I do; let them take turns?”
Now that she’d started talking, she didn’t stop. Benjamar had to pull her down until she sat beside him. “Since we have no established rules about that, you could. For now at least,” he answered. “Now tell me exactly what’s going on.”
She calmed a bit and told him of the endless attacks and counter-attacks between two young men from Habitat Three, and how it had been that way ever since they arrived on the surface. Only the storm had put a temporary stop to it; as soon as life had become routine again, they’d restarted. “It has nothing to do with any political views. They just can’t stand each other. Leyon started it. He swears he’ll kill Thalo and I don’t think he’ll stop until he does.”
Maike yanked the string out of her hair and shook her head hard. For so long had she seemed a symbol of strength; now she looked tired; even the red of her hair had gone dull.
“What about them attacking you?” Benjamar asked.
“Thalo’s done that a few times and every time Leyon thinks it’s a good enough excuse to start again. The infirmary staff is sick of it because they have to keep on picking up the pieces. I’ve tried to keep them under control, but I’m no animal trainer.”
“So you locked Leyon up. Where’s Thalo?”
“In the infirmary again. Do you know I sometimes hope one of them will succeed? How can I be law enforcement without any laws to enforce?”
“Slow down, Maike. You’re wearing me out with that many words. What is it you came to me for?”
“Some kind of official ruling. Some law or trial that allows me to put them away for a longer time; something that will put an end to this.”
Benjamar was no part of Kun DJar government, nor had he intended to conduct any more trials. Nevertheless, this was not something to ignore and Maike couldn’t be expected to deal with it alone, so he went with her.
Thalo wasn’t that young, about three and a half kor, and well built. He was sitting on one of the infirmary seats, his arm wrapped in a home-made sling. He scowled when he saw Maike. “Ha, you brought help. Can’t handle your affairs without DJar government?”
Benjamar didn’t respond to the challenge made to him. He asked Irma and Flori to step out of the man’s hearing range.
“We don’t want them here. Not just because of the supplies, which take a long time to make, but they can’t keep their mouths shut either. The girls don’t feel safe alone,” Irma said.
“Does he have to stay here?”
“No, but he will need his arm checked regularly and he may require painkillers. It’s a bad break.”
Painkillers were another problem. The only alternative was the wine, but that carried the risk of people faking pain when there was none.
“If he has a big mouth he doesn’t need to stay here. So, Maike, can he go home?” Benjamar asked her.
“I can’t confine him when it was Leyon who attacked, can I?”
Benjamar understood the problem. There was always one of them walking around, because he had been the victim, until the other one was released: A hopeless cycle of retaliation attacks. The solution would be a trial; some sort of official decree that would send them both away. Of course, there was no law that stated they couldn’t do that now, anymore than there was a law that said they could. “When did he last attack you?”
“About a moon ago,” Maike said.
That was too long. Even under these circumstances could Benjamar not justify sticking him in a cell for that. And with that arm, Thalo would not be in a very good position to attack anybody.
Benjamar turned to him. “Where do you work?”
“You mean, where do I slave every day? Well, that depends on where the greatest heap of shit sits.”
Benjamar nodded. Thalo wasn’t going to give him a decent answer. He purposely looked into the young man’s eyes for a while. Thalo didn’t waver. “Why do you keep attacking Maike?”
“What is this, an interrogation? Are you going to read me my rights or are you incapable of remembering them without your prints?”
That was exactly the problem, and Thalo wasn’t stupid. “What I do remember is a very efficient organizer who helped out a lot of people during the flood and I wonder why a person like that sinks to this level when there is no emergency,” Benjamar answered.
Thalo didn’t look away, but for just a few moments he seemed less defensive. He recoiled when Maike came closer. “Speaking of rights, do you know what she did to me?” He paused, rubbing his foot over the floor. “For one thing, she almost let me drown in that storm. Leyon was out right away, but I was sitting in water–”
“That’s not true!”
Benjamar put up his hand, silencing Maike. “Don’t respond to provocations. Let’s go.” He told Irma, out loud, not to waste tablets on people who weren’t silenced by their pain and left with Maike. “Let’s have a look at the other one.”
The new prison was at the far east side of town; a long, narrow building of four rooms next to each other, each with a separate door made from prefab material. They probably wouldn’t be too hard to kick down. Inside each cell was a mat: No fire, no covers, no windows, only a small air gap at the top of one of the walls. Hardly the place to be wanting to stay every few days for a game of revenge attacks.
The skinny boy – eight years Thalo’s junior, but he looked even younger than that – stood up when Maike opened the door. “Can I go?” he asked.
Though Maike’s reluctance to lock people away was understandable, nothing in Leyon’s attitude showed he was sorry.
“I don’t think he’s ready, Maike. I will take responsibility if you want
to leave him here for another kor. I can have a trial set up by then.”
At least the grin disappeared, but there was still pleasure in the kid’s eyes. They had no idea what they were doing to Maike.
“I’m fed up with this. You know what, Leyon? You can go,” she said, but stopped him from doing so by taking his arm. “Benjamar is right. Until an official law is made, I can do whatever I think is right, so, if you so much as point at Thalo or provoke him in any way, I’ll have you belted the way I did him and I’ll make sure he’ll be there to watch it.”
Leyon looked from her to Benjamar and back again.
“I am not joking,” Maike said, and let go of his arm.
Leyon started to walk away, hesitated for a moment, and then walked on slowly, almost reluctant, while Maike closed the door and leaned against it. “Go on. Tell me I did wrong,” she said.
Benjamar concluded she’d said this purposely. But why? “I’m not telling you anything. You need to tell me.”
She didn’t make any excuses, didn’t spend many words, just enough for Benjamar to get the picture. “So now can you see why Thalo attacks me?”
Benjamar saw. He also saw why she’d told him: Thalo had threatened her just now. It still didn’t explain his behaviour. If he wanted to hurt or even kill Maike, he would no doubt have succeeded. So what was he after? “Why didn’t you come to us with this, Maike? He raped that girl. We could have had a trial on SJilai.”
“He already was a user, Benjamar. What would you have done?”
“Maybe prevent you from resorting to such extreme action. You could have told us you needed help. Why didn’t you tell us later? Why didn’t Roilan?”
Maike didn’t give him a clear answer to that: She’d expected someone to turn her in, but nobody had. Nobody even talked about it anymore. She rested her back against the door, not defensive, just waiting.
“So why now?” he asked.
