Weathering Storms

by Taborri Walker

  When on her feet there were two people with her; either young people almost old enough to ‘leave’ their parent’s house or other women besides Sesha’s primary group.

  All those ‘allowed’ were thrilled to have a hand in teaching the fair young woman to walk again; not only were they beneficiaries of her exotic smile but had some escape from the endless sermons shoved at them. As Sesha’s walking improved, her English did some as well especially of physical items she could sense. Emotions were figured out the fastest of incorporeal ideas, other thought processes followed and she loved to sit with ‘her’ boy and do more advanced mathematics.

  Healing brought more weepy days, why no one could wiggle out of her and now she started to roam - just a little, given her condition, stroking her bracelet as she wandered, glassy-eyed. When she was able to move a significant distance away, the preacher would stop his blathering – that’s all it was – and send one of the men to fetch her back. The first time it was a fresh-faced young man Jeremiah, the one she’d seen beaten during her first scouting mission, in fact. He kept his eyes downcast as he spoke to her and offered his arm, and in deference to her illness, walked slowly. And he limped, badly.

  The second time, the man looked like the stuff the women were assuming about while she slept. What better way to build on the tale? Sesha acted as if she didn’t see him, wandering a bit more as if lost in a daze. So he had to approach her more than once. Finally impatient, he grabbed her wrist to lead her back and Sesha opened her eyes wide and screamed a loud, terrified shriek -- collapsing onto the ground in a dead faint. That ended the meeting in a hurry as everyone rushed to see what had happened. Sesha was taken back to bed and nurtured as she came out of her faint to tears and much jabbering in her unknown language. Finally when she pointed to the scruff on a man’s chin and ran her finger like a cut on the face and put her hand over her eye did they understand. She collapsed back, almost unconscious again so they could talk freely, assuming more of her story.

  “He must look similar to the brigands that must have attacked their ship,” Beulah explained to her husband as she washed Sesha’s pale face.

  “Brigands,” the preacher snarled and shook his fist. “Vile tortures the sinners verily wreaked on our precious Sesha when was’t mewed up! Faith that the Soldiers of the Commander wilt discover the vassals when the city be waftage on our Missionary Journeys! Yea, and if they wilt not repent, the Word saith ‘He that leadeth into captivity shall go into captivity: he that killeth with the sword must be killed with the sword.’ ” At this point, Beulah had to shush him gently as he was getting quite loud.

  Beulah picked up the tea cup and began to spoon the honey-sweetened tea into the young woman’s mouth until she opened her eyes, and then the tears started again.

  Softer, the man melted at the sight and he bent over and patted her hand comfortingly. “Then we shalt ensure that mayhap sweet Sesha wandereth, wilt only be Chosen of the Lord who do not resemble lawbreakers. God’s mercy shalt abound and women t’will be allowed to follow an’ she wander further, with the admonition to bring the eanling back to the fold.”

  Sesha sat straight up on the bed, then, knocking the teacup out of Beulah’s hand, her eyes streaming tears, stammering angrily at the Reverend, who jumped back, startled and alarmed. “Oo… ‘ave… unez here! Why oo ‘ave piples an’ do… um,” she drew her finger knife-like across her throat, made her hands to look like she was holding a rifle while making shooting noises and staggering up from the bed, grabbed the Reverend by his suit lapels. All in the infirmary were shocked by the sudden ability to move this way.

  Continuing her “hysterics,” she grabbed the preacher’s own whipping stick that he kept tucked in his waistband and proceeded to knock him on the chest with it – although in her “weakened” state the blows were soft. But the intent was there. “Why? Why? They… a’kandre my, um,” she twisted the ring on Beulah’s finger as the woman pulled her gently off the Reverend and led her back to bed. Even there she kept screaming at the man.

  “Um, ikento! Bah-d, ” she began flailing her arm as if beating someone, “You… ‘urt an’ yaktese dem and cry, cry cry, no stop!” she burst out a sob, fell back onto the bed and tried to curl up in a ball as she wept.

  Fresh pulped strawberry juice was fetched and Florence coaxed Sesha to drink it while Beulah held her tightly in her arms rocking her, and shortly the “hysterics” passed and she fell asleep. While she did, the Reverend and his wife talked. Which of course the truly sleeping woman heard, thanks to her Wrist-Gem transmitting it directly to her brain.

  “She wakes up screaming every time you punish the members,” Beulah said quietly. “She weeps for hours after, holding her back and clutching her private areas. It is as if she does not hear us then, and no amount of soothing has any effect.”

  “How doth she ken where the sinners are beaten?” he asked, looking askance at the now-quiet woman.

  “One of the first times she came around, the lass managed to crawl about. I believe she was lost in her mind – did I not tell you? – as she did not acknowledge us, fought our holding her and was making haste to flee around things that were not there, bumping into furniture and trying to hide. The screams drew her back some and she watched out the window. We could not move her, husband. She clung with ferocious strength, and when it was done she cried for a very long time. And ever since, when she hears the screams, she wakes up screaming again, has been to the window twice more. Oft takes two of us women lying with her to hold her down chance we do immediately.”

  “If she were converted, she would understand…” he mused.

  “But she is not, and learning the language is slow. She is an innocent and tender being, and in time she may come to love the Lord as we do,” Beulah shuddered inside at her lie, “And then she will know why you punish sinners. But in the meantime, what to do? She begins to compare us to those who harmed her so grievously and killed her beloved and the rest on her ship.” Beulah smoothed a lock of the silvery white hair off Sesha’s pale face.

  “Punishment must be continuate lest the flock fall deeper into sin. Perhaps to mew up in the forges or sewers a full day, work the fish lines with no hand covers. Mayhap work the full day as well, no food, water, watch…” the man considered.

  “Or extra Bible reading? Perhaps having them stand in the square and read aloud the passages you choose for a certain amount of time? Polish the church walls and floor, have men wash, women chop wood? Anyway, husband,” Beulah held her breath, daring to broach this subject. But now while he was already giving in to a gentler treatment…

  “Yes, wife?”

  “Young Anna has not recovered from the beating she was given. An infection has set in, and if she does not die from it, she may be unable to bear children. She fainted while at her loom and we have had to put her in the infirmary. She does not wake now.”

  “Such is the consequence of the path of unrighteousness.” He replied coldly.

  “And what of the consequence to the vision the Lord gave you? Did He not guide you whom to convert, whom to bring so The New City would grow rapidly? How rapidly will it grow if you beat the women so badly they cannot bear children?” She managed to keep from flinching, sure her husband would strike her, as he had sometimes done before when she’d challenged him.

  “And what of the consequence to thee, ronvon, if thou continuest to argue ‘gainst me and God’s Holy Word?” the man snarled, raising his hand, and Sesha cracked open an eye, as his suddenly angry tone woke her from her light doze.

  Sesha realized it was time to intervene. She knew how close Beulah was to complete rebellion, and she also knew the general plans the Reverend had for his wife and herself. She didn’t want him to push his timetable ahead, although he was hoping to have it moved up with the baby he prayed he’d given Sesha. But since that wasn’t going to happen, well, she’d have to prevent another change in his plans.

  So she moaned, and coughed, brought her hand up to her head and moan
ed again. The beginning fight halted immediately and they both rushed to her side.

  “Don’t --” she heard a soft smack, which told her the Reverend had been reaching for her and Beulah had knocked his hand away. The cool wet cloth was again passed gently on her face until she opened her eyes, a few tears leaking out. She saw the man rubbing his hand, looking over his wife’s shoulder, waiting until he got the signal from his wife.

  “Are you better, dear?” Beulah asked softly. “We know some of our men look rough, but they are not the pirates who attacked your ship. May Peter talk to you?”

  She managed a nod, and kept a teary-eyed frightened look on her face.

  The man sat on the other chair and took her hand. He spoke almost in a whisper, and very slowly, to the young woman. “Sesha, child, I be mickle remorseful an’ the brush fright given thee.”

  “Eh?” Sesha looked at him, brows down, then at Beulah who whispered to her husband to use simple words.

  “Some of our converts may look bad, but by the Grace of God they will soon be just as holy and civilized as I. These men are not the men who boarded your ship and killed your family and fiancé. And I’m telling you too that the beating of sinning members will cease. My dearest wife tells me that you weep most profoundly, um, cry when you hear it, so it will stop.”

  “Um…” she formed the words carefully. “They… do so… yeto… badly? They… uh, you must… hevallah… “ she made a fist and weakly weaved her arm in the air, pantomiming the beating. “There is… non… path… better?”

  “We will consult with the Lord and the Monitors to see what God says.” Again the man fell into preaching mode, so common with him. ”The Word says in Samuel, ‘When he does wrong, I will punish him with the rod of men, with floggings inflicted by men.’ So you see dear, we must obey God’s laws –“

  “Peter,” Beulah’s tone was cautionary so Sesha put on a confused face.

  “Eh? ’Oo is Sam-ell? Why he say – “

  “Never mind dear,” Beulah smiled tightly behind her husband’s back. “There will be no more beatings so no bad dreams anymore from that.” She nudged her husband up and as she guided him to the door, Sesha heard him protesting.

  “But she must begin to learn, wife. In the Book of Job, chapter 36 verse 10 it says…”

  “I know what it says, husband. But we have the barriers of language and her culture as well as her injuries. Both the ones done to her body” Sesha heard the slight emphasis Beulah put on it “And the harm done to her mind, seeing the murders of everyone she loved, then being abandoned on a wild and savage land in a wrecked buggy with a dying horse! So go carefully?” The door was swinging shut behind the couple, but it paused.

  “As always, your steadfastness and wisdom show me a better path” the man murmured and Sesha heard a soft wet noise like a kiss, then the door reopened to admit Beulah, who shut it as the man went his way, wiping her mouth repeatedly, as if disgusted.

  Beulah settled Sesha back down for a nap and sat there and wept quietly for a little while. And Sesha contemplated all she had heard and knew the right moment would have to be soon. She knew how to get to the ocean now, and one of the tomorrows would be the right day to do it.

  There soon came a day that dawned very hot and it wasn’t long before the city was almost paralyzed by it. All chores other than milking the cows and pumping water for animals was suspended, and all repaired to either their homes or shade of the few large trees in the compound. Energy was low; tempers were flaring. People made frequent trips to wells and sinks for water, often pouring it on themselves as well as drinking it. It felt wonderful to Sesha, just right, she thought. But to keep up her act, she too acted like a wilted flower under the blazing sun.

  But the afternoon meeting went on as scheduled. Women brought umbrellas to shade them, men wore wide-brimmed hats. There were several buckets of water scattered throughout the crowd and everyone had a mug in hand, even the little children.

  Sesha had to be moved several times before she found an area that was to her “comfort.” Again she wound up behind the preacher under the deepest patch of shade. The tree was only a couple hundred yards from the ocean, just what Sesha wanted.

  The preacher began his litany, geared towards strict obedience of the Word. Sesha listened only as he read the part of the “scripture.” It was the same author named Job, apparently the same section he’d wanted to tell her a few days ago.

  Behold, God is mighty, and despiseth not any: he is mighty in strength and wisdom. He preserveth not the life of the wicked: but giveth right to the poor. He withdraweth not his eyes from the righteous: but with kings are they on the throne; yea, he doth establish them forever, and they are exalted. And if they be bound in fetters, and beholden in cords of affliction; Then he sheweth them their work, and their transgressions that they have exceeded. He openeth also their ear to discipline, and commandeth that they return from iniquity. If they obey and serve him, they shall spend their days in prosperity, and their years in pleasures. But if they obey not, they shall perish by the sword, and they shall die without knowledge.

  Sesha was frankly disturbed by what she heard. This religion didn’t allow for any other beliefs than its own and was supremely easy to twist to whatever scheme anyone wanted. The wording was generic which lent itself easily to anyone who needed to command obedience according to a Higher Power. And to top it off, according to what she heard, the men who ran the place skipped over anything that could be used against them.

  So Sesha held out her hands to the woman sitting by her. She was helped up, steadied and allowed to wander around as was her wont now. They were used to her roving so she got only a few glimpses her way to make sure she wasn’t wandering too far or having another “fit.”

  She got down to the sandy beach without being stopped, and there flopped down close to the water and began idly digging in the wet sand, patting and shaping it. She looked around to find something to trigger another grieving “spell” since that was expected soon too, being as they were by the ocean. And the almost silence was nice for a change… she could hardly hear Reverend Allway’s yapping. For a bit she thought about her real shipmates and hoped they were still all right. Almost three standard Phenjamian months had passed since she’d landed here; they would have been out of Travelsleep before now if things had gone right! She didn’t have much time left, in her estimation. They could survive another ten months, she knew, but Sesha didn’t think she could go on with this ploy that long. Something had to happen, and soon!

  How about a bath, Sesh? Give me a good wringing again plus a test of purity to see if there’s overmuch pollution.

  Overmuch? Shni, Are you starting to talk like them?

  *snort* have you listened to your mind lately? We’re going to be quite the odd couple when we get home.

  You sound positive, my friend. And besides, a brand new language always sets the first interpreter above the rest.

  With the Wrist Gem, I can pass it on to any with one in mili-sec, you know. I hope things work out as positively as you’re feeling.

  So figure out your trigger and let’s take a swim!

  Fate was kind to her while she was contemplating, and a piece of worked wood was washed ashore close by her. Sesha let out a scream of anguish, which brought a young man to her side in a flash. He saw her clutching the planking and wailing, pointing to the ocean, chattering away in her language. Gently the man eased the plank from her and hurtled it to the side, saying soothing words to comfort her.

  “Tis all right, Miss Sesha… thou art safe now with me, Ashton, and thy loved ones reside in Heaven. Come, I will take thee to Lady Beulah…” he tried to draw her away, but she flopped back down on the sand.

  Sesha had constructed a fairly detailed castle of sand during the time she’d been waiting to have her period of grief. Sitting back down to cry by it drew his attention to it, so she allowed the young man to start admiring it. Ashton was trying to distract her from her memories before he goofed, a
s she knew he would.

  “Was that your home?” he knelt and looked the fairly detailed sculpture over closely. “Tis such a lovely house, Miss Sesha…”

  That drew a new wail from her and she proceeded to demolish the sand carving, then staggered to her feet and wandered off, sobbing. She began singing a sad sounding song, which made the young man trotting after her assume she was singing to her dead love. Standing there for a long moment, he figured he could do nothing more so he rejoined the assembly, alerting the next person assigned to help her to move a bit closer and keep watch.

  In reality Sesha was singing a childhood ditty from the Beharin planet – a song to induce relaxation before sleep. But with the right motions and sobs, they could interpret it as a song of grief, which they did. Now Sesha turned her wandering towards the large bricked enclosure of seawater.

  A long hill of sand led up gently to the top, and it was covered with footprints of the men who worked there every day. Sesha had watched from a distance as they laid the base of the boat and then opened enough of the enclosure to float it. It was like a huge distorted canoe so far, with several additions in progress on it. It would be large enough to hold at least half the city here, and she knew they were planning an expedition geared to forcing other peoples to accept the religious views spoken here. That was Allway’s dream… but Sesha suspected the Monitors, at least 6 of them, had a different idea.

  She slowly walked up the sand hill, sweeping the footprints in her path away while she sang on, working her way up to the top. She sang some ballads too and really did feel horribly homesick for a while. This situation was almost too much! Getting seawater to put in the BrainPan was all she needed, but to get it she had to rid these people of a lunatic.

  Is the computer still recording and compressing well enough?

  Oh, yes. The comp program is running fine and your weekly dunks in seawater are keeping us going.

  Good, cuz we’re going to need the evidence when we get drug up before the Alliance Council on a long list of charges.