Their beloved was one of them, and Mikra smiled at the idea of sharing someone so intimately with her mother, even if she had never met her before. “But why haven’t they returned yet? I’ve never seen light in the sky, mama.” Ó didn’t know how to respond to the question. Questions like this were the reason why she had kept silent for so long.
“I sit and gaze into those stars, hoping to catch the moment when one of them slowly becomes larger and larger until all three thousand Gatherers can be seen across our sky, like our own dangling constellation of Suns,” Ó said in a low voice. She shifted her body, turning the fire with a stick; the night became brighter. “But I am growing weary of these skies and the explosions that replace hope with frustration. How many times have I thought that it was the Sol Gatherers returning, only to find the disappointing fade-to-black that only an explosion can provide? The fear that follows is maddening. Mikra, I know it is nothing you have ever seen before, but close your eyes and try to imagine.”
Mikra closed her eyes. “Imagine three thousand sleeping Sol Gatherers scattered across our sky with large pieces of burning Sun on their chests. This is how they rest. While they sleep floating in the sky, they are reenergized after their long journey by the Suns’ magnetic field.”
• • •
“Ooooh! Ooooh! Can you believe that worked?” Jaiku exclaimed after a long time had passed.
He jumped from the tree limb, making a big thud when he landed. The Okanike tribe slowly became light, then quickly began to morph back into themselves. Tet raised his hands into the air triumphantly when he rose from the pile. The young Sol Gatherers stood slowly, their massive wings unfurling as pieces of dirt, leaves, and twigs fell from them. The joy of the tribe calmed them down, leaving everyone in the dark.
“I can’t believe that worked!” Tet came running to Jaiku and tried to wrap his arms around his large frame before darkness took hold. “I mean, I guess I had to believe it was gonna work if it worked!” He let out a shriek and rolled on the ground in laughter.
“What a great idea, Jaiku!” another one said, slapping him loudly on the upper arm. “If we can do this every time, we just might be able to save them—and ourselves.” The Sol Gatherers, though only fourteen years old, were already taller than Jaiku. They towered over the tribe. It had been no easy feat saving the last hundred Gatherers. Their size, the natural glow of their skin, and their constant need to feed made them all vulnerable. The Okanike tribe regularly had to make large fires to simulate the sun and quench their endless hunger. It was in this manner that they had lost a hundred in the last two years. Prior to that, it was the sheer numbers that made them vulnerable—too many to protect.
Jaiku was sent by Ó to keep from harm the last of the Sol Gatherers. He was also part Sol Gatherer, and though he didn’t inherit their large wings or the Guide like his sister Mikra had, he could glide between tree limb, rock, dirt, and mountain like the air currents themselves. His body was low to the ground, unlike his mother’s. He could match any Sol Gatherer in brute force. Aside from these two characteristics, his physical attributes took more from Ó than anyone else. In her womb, his skin mixed with her deep browns and Jaggúa’s shades of yellow and red, giving him a warm color to match his heart. He moved the wind as he pleased, a master messenger by trade and talent. Before the war began, one would generally see him etching out the bamboo-like wood of the forest with small vertical carvings varying in depth. To this day, he etches the message he intends to deliver, and with a single pull of his bow his communication is precisely shot near the ear of the recipient. The gouged arrow, as it travels, fills with wind in such a manner that the wood whispers the message effortlessly. Once the message is delivered, the arrow falls to the ground as if hit by an invisible hand and disappears into the forest floor. After the war started, no one trusted any message to arrive safely nor messenger to arrive safely, for that matter. Jaiku, with his rare offering, became essential to Kempúa’s survival. This gift was perfected through the guidance of his mother. Ó had spent her childhood obsessively training the birds who now live inside of her shell, and she became a revered master messenger. She taught Jaiku the art of delivery.
Two Years Ago
Thirteen hundred young Sol Gatherers had been kidnapped or killed by the time Jaiku found the remaining Gatherers huddled with the Okanike tribe—scared, smaller, and skinnier than they should have been. Tet was the first to greet him; their brotherhood formed immediately. Tet briefed Jaiku over a small fire and told him that members of his tribe had slowly begun to understand the humans. They sat between two large boulders where the tribe and young Sol Gatherers had been hiding for a few weeks now.
“Our tribe started making themselves invisible against the bodies of dead soldiers,” Tet began that night. “They picked up the soldiers’ guns and studied them until they could mimic the materials they were made from. Eventually, some got bold enough to stand next to the large machines that the humans used in battles. They studied every detail until they could become invisible against them.” Tet’s face turned into a big grin. “Once they mastered this, they entered the ships themselves, sneaked right past the soldiers, entered their headquarters, their sleeping quarters, their bathrooms, and learned the true reason for their invasion and the targeting of the Sol Gatherers!” Tet’s hands moved like a hummingbird as he spoke. He suddenly leapt to his feet, stepping toward the fire, then turning back to face Jaiku. He put both hands up in front of his chest as if he were stopping something. “They are so asleep to their senses, these humans! We could never come so close to anyone in our world without being noticed, even if we were invisible!”
Jaiku was amazed at what he was hearing. “What did they find?” he asked.
“When members of my tribe first entered the main ship, they found one large room in the center of the vessel. It had drawings sprawled on long tables with a series of rings inside of rings inside of rings. The rings got tighter in three different locations, marking the three Sacred Peaks!”
“How do you know these were symbols for the Sacred Peaks?” Jaiku interrupted.
“Zaza, who was the one to see it first, thought that maybe they were maps of Kempúa because one large half circle, unlike all the other concentric circles, sat between the first and second Peaks.” Tet picked up a stick and drew what he was describing on the ground. “Just like the half-shaped circle of our largest body of water—right between Mandip and Manisha.” Tet pointed to the mountaintops he had drawn.
Jaiku interrupted again. “Do you think they know of the temples on top of our mountains?” The light of the fire moved against his face. Tet memorized his features as he spoke.
“We don’t think they have made it that far. They move slow.” Tet mimicked them. “At the same time, we don’t understand how they would know about our sacred mountains at all or the spring of our water. They also have large drawings on the walls of the Sol Gatherers.” Tet spun in a circle re-creating the walls. “The young ones, —we don’t think they know about the elders—but the young ones are illustrated in vivid color, from skin all the way down to bone.” Jaiku shivered. “Illustrations of how they move, how they fly, their wingspan, their facial expressions, and how they’ve grown in the last five years fill the main cabin. She said you could barely see the walls!” Tet’s eyes became wide.
“But why the Sol Gatherers?”
“Well,” Tet said after taking a long sip of his warm drink, “This was the puzzling question for a long time, and a much longer answer I’m too tired now to begin, but I will tell you this: Zaza and her younger brother Triik have committed to finding out the answer.” Tet pointed them out by nodding in their direction. “They’ve spent most of their time in the main vessels stationed on the western side of Kempúa for the past five years, walking among them, decoding their language.” Tet took another sip of his drink, “Zaza and Triik just got back a few days ago.” Jaiku looked over at Zaza who ate quietly, staring at the fire. Triik was already asleep beside he
r.
“I’ll introduce you tomorrow. They never speak for the first four sleeping cycles after they return. They say it helps them to not forget what they have learned or confuse the human’s language and energy with ours. I think it’s very hard for them to be among the humans for such long periods. Once we’ve all rested, they will tell you what they’ve learned and share their theories on why this war started.”
• • •
Jaiku was woken up by Zaza, who nudged him gently on the arm. He could hear the tossing of wood into the fire and was startled by the large dancing figures between the boulders. For a second, in this sleep state, he thought the humans had finally trapped them. It wasn’t until he saw Zaza’s smile that his heart began to slow.
“Hi. I’m Zaza,” she said in a low voice.
“Zaza, I’m Jaiku.” They put their foreheads together and greeted.
“I know, we were expecting you,” she said as they pulled back.
“You knew I was on my way?” He sounded surprised.
“Yes, we had heard word from your mother. One day, when things seemed all a mess, about a hundred of her magical birds appeared. The tribe heard them coming swiftly through the forest and were terrified at first that it might be the humans with some new weaponry. But when they descended, the light of the winded creatures sprinkled down onto us from the treetops!” She threw her arms into the air and drew circles above her. “We looked up in awe, knowing they were the sacred messengers we had been told about as young ones but had never seen or had the privilege to hear from.” Her voice was hurried. “We immediately broke into laughter as we generally do after fear has subsided. Our laughter scared the creatures, sending them flying up as one, and landing back down as another.” She let out a chuckle. Jaiku smiled at her riddle. “They told us that you were on your way and to wait for you here.”
“Well, here I am! Fill me in, I’ve barely slept from the anticipation.”
Zaza sat next to him. “It turns out that the humans have destroyed their world. They have created something called ‘pollution.’”
“What is it?”
“I’m not sure. All I know is that it has completely engulfed their planet and is now in orbit with Earth.”
“What’s Earth?” he interrupted.
“It’s what they call their world. This pollution is orbiting with them and it’s as thick as a blanket. I heard one of them shout once in desperation. It’s preventing their sun from reaching them and maintaining life there. They are close enough to a sun that they’ve never needed Sol Gatherers until now.”
“Until now?”
“Well, somehow this tribe, by the name of NASA, saw our Sol Gatherers harvesting sunlight—they have moving images of them coming in and out of Sun. I believe we share Sun with them! I’m not sure how, but we do. Either way, they found them and figured out how to find Kempúa. The humans are trying to use the young Sol Gatherers. They think it’s the only way to save their planet.” Zaza paused. “It’s obsessive the way they do things. It’s almost like the repetition allows them to finally understand. It can be maddening being in those rooms with them, but it’s then that they talk the most about us and we gain new information. In these meetings, they develop tactics for how to kill us off, suppress us, and get what they need from us more efficiently!” She was disgusted and spat on the ground by her feet. “They are desperate! The man who I heard shouting began to leak water from his eyes because his daughter wouldn’t live much longer if they didn’t figure out how to use the Sol Gatherers! They barely understand them or us or themselves, for that matter! They’re mad with desperation! Many of the Sol Gatherers they have kidnapped have either killed themselves in an attempt to escape or as a result of trying to obey their rules. Our young Gatherers don’t know anything about finding and gathering sunlight. They haven’t been initiated!” Her voice quieted. “Unfortunately, not even enough to save their own lives.” She shifted to face him. He could see she was agitated now. Bringing her knees to her chest, she began to tap her right knee with her fingers. It felt like she was somewhere else.
“They have invaded our world and killed so many of us in an attempt to kidnap our Sol Gatherers and save themselves.” Zaza looked down. It had been five years since the invasion. Her tribe, the Okanike, had managed to save a mere two hundred young Sol Gatherers from the fifteen hundred that had been left behind by the elders. She was ashamed. Jaiku put one hand on her knee and with the other lifted her chin up.
“You have done the best you can. You all have, and I hope to do as much as you have already done while I am with you.”
“Jaiku, it’s not easy. If the elders don’t return, I don’t know how our world will survive. So much has already died without our Suns and, to be truly honest, I don’t think we can destroy the humans without them. We should have fought back in the beginning when we still had fifteen hundred young Gatherers with us. Instead we ran. What has running done?” She said in a harsh whisper. She stood up suddenly—her back to the fire—and looked at the eternal darkness around her. “I’ll tell you what it has done! It has kept us in fear and diminished our numbers. Even though they are young, the Gatherers are strong. We should have made a wall of fire. But instead we ran, and now that’s all we do.”
Present
“Maybe it was the darkness that scared them,” Ó said looking down at Mikra. What kind of answer could she give her daughter for why this war had begun?
“It seemed at first like the humans just threw fire into everything to catch a glimpse.” Ó looked away from the fire and paused. “The first three years were the most confusing and terrifying—there was always smoke and loud noises that shook the ground. Tribes of all kinds were scattered by the fourth year, and most now travel in small numbers to avoid the killing raids.” It pained her to know that her daughter so young knew what a killing raid was, for that was exactly what happened the last time they tried to live in a community and barely escaped alive. She hoped that Mikra didn’t remember the details of that night. “By the fifth year, it became clear that the humans were after the young Sol Gatherers, since their numbers had diminished to less than two hundred. All who witnessed and escaped testified that everything and everyone was destroyed or killed, yet the young Sol Gatherers were left physically unharmed—at least amid the chaos. They were shot with a liquid that forced them to follow the human’s voice and willingly get into large vessels, never to be seen again.
Mikra looked around but couldn’t see beyond the small fire. “Did the elder Sol Gatherers also get kidnapped by the humans, Mama?” Mikra’s mother could see the fear alive in her daughter now.
“Mikra,” she said soothingly, “Come here.” Mikra got up from the ground and placed her head on her mother’s heart. She could hear the cooing of the birds inside the shell through the hollow of Ó’s chest. She sunk deeper into her embrace.
• • •
Many sleeping cycles had passed with no incident, when Mikra began to toss and turn in her sleep, and for seven days she didn’t wake. Her arms became stiff trunks. Her palms became wide-open branches. Her teeth clenched. Her forehead collected small droplets of sweat that glistened against her Guide, illuminating the makeshift home she and her mother had built. Her high temperature eventually heated their dwelling, so much so that after a while the snow and ice that had collected around the structure began to melt. After a couple of days, it became clear that Mikra had entered a vision far greater than her years. Ó took to collecting the herbs her tribe used in times of initiation and vision-seeking, doing her best to keep her daughter alive. When Mikra finally awoke, all she could feel was Ó’s heavy arm, limp across her chest.
“Mama?” Her whisper entered Ó’s dream with urgency. Ó shifted her body and pressed her arm around Mikra. The birds in her shell cooed and shifted with her.
“Mama?”
“Yes, I’m here,” she responded into the night. Mikra’s Guide had faded completely, along with her fever. The small fire had burned out h
ours ago, and their makeshift home was now as cold as the outside world. “It is good to have you back, Mikra. You frightened me. It has been seven days that you haven’t responded at all. You merely tossed and turned or lay so still—barely breathing. I thought I might lose you to the world of visions.”
“I’m sorry, mama.”
“What did you see?” Ó said, gently touching Mikra’s forehead.
“I’m thirsty, mama.” Ó rose to her feet, stirring all the birds within her shell. She went outside and gathered snow in a cup. When she came back inside, she pulled over her head the small pouch she always carried around her neck. Mikra loved that pouch and dreamed of the day she would inherit it. Mikra’s hands reached out to touch it without thinking. Ó poured a handful of stardust particles between her palms, rubbing vigorously and setting off the first spark. Mikra could see a tiny light between her mother’s hands slowly getting brighter. She took the small flame and with it lit a pile of sticks and dried grass. Mikra immediately felt the heat—the shivering of her body subsided as the snow melted in the cup.
“Here you go, Mikra.” Mikra took a long sip and then rested her head back down. “Mikra, what did you see?” Her mother was anxious, curious. She had never known anyone entering—or for that matter surviving—a vision at such a young age. She herself had been a woman when she had first experienced clairvoyance of such magnitude, and that had been in the company of all her elders after a long ceremony held to induce the visions.
“I first saw the three Sacred Peaks from afar in a cloud of fire. I heard screams in every direction, as if all of Kempúa was crying out at once. Everything became so loud that I thought it might drive me insane. Then silence, a deep unshakable silence that stopped the wind itself. I looked up toward the burning sky and from the smoke appeared Jaiku. He was fa-a-a-a-a-r away from me, flying on a half-opened seed.
Octavia's Brood: Science Fiction Stories From Social Justice Movements Page 11
