10: The Factor

Consciousness.  Crisis.  Awareness.  Anxiety.  Existence.  Fear. 

They were all one and the same.  It did not think about such things.  It hardly thought at all.  There was no time.  There was no margin.  All was anxiety.  All was stress.  If one felt the ground beneath to be secure, if one’s stock were producing then the need to keep producing, keep on top, keep up was a crushing weight from above.  If one’s share from collective was favorable then one felt held out over a pit.  One could fail.  One could fall.  One’s stock could be increased or decreased, stock could be injured, fail or cease to produce.  Nothing done before mattered.  There would be no credit.  All was now.  And now was a fine time to fail.  Fear could also come from the side.  Rival factors might take one’s stock.  Take one’s share.  Take one’s very being.  Nothing was secure.  All was negotiable.  All was capricious.  All one had to count on was one.  And one was never sure if one was enough.  There were a million ways to fail and one had to anticipate them all.  If one had nothing else to do, one could be very busy trying to anticipate the next crisis.

It had not anticipated this crisis. 

It had not even been sure there was a crisis.  The stock were still harvesting.  The share was delivered on time.  And that was the first worrying sign.  The harvesters were becoming regular, as if not having to search far for food.  As if something or someone was feeding them.  It sensed a rival.  There as a stench on the returning stock, almost familiar.  Yet there was something of the foreign about it too.  And foreign was crisis.  Another collective?  It should alert it’s own factor.  But only when it was sure.  A false report was worse than no report.  It would get surety.  It had waited by the aperture for its stock to return.  It chose one, not at random, a poor performer typically, it had quickly risen to equal the factor’s best harvesters.  Another ill omen.  It looked positively sleek, its crop full.  The factor had pounced on it, encircling it, squeezing it till its eye shutters bulged.  It had cast anger at the rest, paralyzing them and forcing them back against the wall of the tunnel. 

“Where?”  It was a typical cast, a typical question of the hive, where O harvester, did one find this food?  At times a celebration, a reason for the collective to rejoice, to do a joy dance.  Here, in this tunnel nearly hot with rage and quivering with fear, the victim bursting and cracking in the Factor’s crushing grip, it was an accusation.  One, amazingly, frighteningly, not answered at first.  How far had they been turned?  Were they already in the employ of the foreign factor?  Were they spies? 

Traitors?  The stakes must be raised.  The fear must be real.  It raised a feeding tentacle, let it hover in the face of the victim for all to see and poked it through the eye socket of the chosen sacrifice.  Gore and bile burst around it as the pressure was somewhat relieved.  It drank.  It took its time.  First the victim’s own innards, then down into the cavity, into its crop.  The others watched and shrank back even more.  “Where?”  this time it did not bellow.  This time it purred. 

Then they told.  They told everything.  And the Factor had made its plan. 

9 Over the Side

The crewmen were masked and nervous and it wasn’t only because Ch’loi stood on the rail over them, balancing herself with a ratline.  Nine days of their macabre task had not been enough to inure them to the risks.  “I do not care for our odds of making it back to port without contracting the fever ourselves.  This is a cursed voyage if ever there was one.”  Captain Rayjay summed up what they were thinking.  “Stand by there!”  The crewmen grabbed their first wrapped bundle of the night at the corners with thick gloves.  “Heave ho!”  The first plague cadaver went over the stern, followed by Ch’loi leaping to the sand below, closely followed by the other three sheet-wrapped corpses as fast as they could grab them and heave them.  When the last one was safely in their wake, they stripped off the gloves and tossed them too.  Captain Rayjay removed his mask and spat.  “Good riddance.”  Kurga thought it prudent not to ask which the good captain was more pleased to be rid of, though he did wonder.  “Are you still set upon your fool’s errand?” the Captain asked Amisbhake. 

“I am,” the Lord Counselor said. 

They skimmed the dune crest, gathering speed from the higher winds and then when the Captain felt something only he could sense, he heeled the catamaran over and down the back side and into the trough.  The boat careened and plunged with familiar if sickening speed and Kurga waited for his stomach to find its customary place again.  The other nine nights they had put as much distance as they could, upon her orders, from Ch’loi and her silent cast aways until the second watch when they would tack back and pick her up, alone, well after dawn. 

Tonight however, the Captain navigated the boat through a maneuver designed to bring them as near to the drop point as he felt he could without being seen.  This took some time with the contrary winds and his efforts to keep the mast’s tip from breaking the horizon.  He drove on in a glowering silence but the time came and he announced it, “Make ready.”

“I’d like to join you if i may,” Kurga heard himself say.

“Really?”  Amisbhake said.

“Yes.”

“I’m .. mildly shocked.”

“As am I,” Kurga said, “I wasn’t sure myself until just this moment, though I’d been considering it all day.”

“I suspect it’s going to be rather dangerous?”

Kurga smacked his lips and found them dry, “yes.”

“Alright then,” the Lord Counselor assented, somewhat to Kurga’s chagrin.

Captain Rayjay shook his head.  “Get the fool a weapon,” he ordered his first mate.  The mate brought a heavy rifle to the merchant. 

“You’ve used one of these before?”



“Something similar.”  The mate pointed out the safety, the ejector and which end the bolts came out.  Handed him an extra clip and patted him on the shoulder.    Kurga was less than reassured but he had no time to reconsider for the Captain gave the word and Amisbhake grabbed and handful of Kurga mounted the rail and leapt.

8: One of Those Kind of Walks

The council meeting broke up, and not a moment soon enough, to Amisbhake’s thinking.  The Viceroy, though he had barely looked up from the fire the entire meeting, managed to catch his eye and so Amisbhake took his time getting one last cup of coffee while the other ministers filed out.  Though he may not have bothered, it seemed most of them were eager to hear what C’yashi thought and followed him like a cloud of eager jackals hoping a scrap would fall from his kill.  The loss of Ch’voga was having far reaching effects.  C’yashi, long a lone dissenting voice, was gaining credence, his views no longer openly mocked but supported and even starting to come from mouths other than his own around the fire.  Ch’loi’s presence unnerved everyone.  No matter how much like a person the physician’s made her look, there was no getting around the unnaturalness of her.  She rarely spoke but even her movements, though becoming less and less jerky with her constant training and self-discipline, made them all flinch.  She was aware and endeavored to hold still for the entire meeting, barely sipping from the crystal glass in her hand.  But even the restraint was eerie.  She and Chofa whispered together for a moment and Amis politely waited for them to be done and her to take her leave before sitting back down. 

“Sire, I…”

“I need some air, Amis,” Chofa announced.

“Would you prefer the gardens…”  Chofa put his back against one of the massive bronze statues which flanked the throne and with a great heave, tipped it back against the wall, revealing the hole underneath.  “Ah, it’s to be one of those walks, is it?”  Amisbhake smiled.  “It’s been a while.”

“Too long.  And who knows when the opportunity will come again.”  They dropped down into the opening and Amis carefully lowered the statue back into place, sealing the entrance.  The darkness was total but they needed no light.  They navigated the long narrow passage until it emptied into a larger chamber where they changed clothes with some they left here in a closet, climbed some stairs and out a door and then a maze of alleys and onto a crowded street and the Viceroy and his Chief Advisor were two anonymous citizens of the capitol amongst the hustle and bustle of the marketplace.  They grabbed some grilled kabobs, warm bread and a skin of wine from vendors and munched happily away as Chofa led them out the main gate and through the town streets without the ancient walls, over the bridge and into the pasturelands for which the land was named.  Finally, on a grassy hill overlooking a valley of herders with the capitol looking picturesque in the distance they sat down to finish their meal and enjoy the wine and the view. 

“It’d be nice to do some hunting,” Amisbhake said, “How much time do we have?”

“Indeed, how much time do we have?”

“Sire?”

“What do you think, Lord Counselor, is a leader’s paramount duty?  The good of the sheep or the protection of the sheep?”

“Are they mutually exclusive duties?  Wouldn’t the protection of the sheep be to their good?”

“Is it always?  Is all adversity to be feared?  All danger to be avoided?  Is risk evil?  Isn’t the metal heated that endures the greatest test the purest and strongest?”

“If it survives, yes,” Amisbhake answered.  “if it not consumed by the test.”

“As Ch’Voga was.”

“I was not driving at that, milord but yes.  As Ch’Voga was, yes.”

“Was Ch’Voga weak, Amis?  Is that why he fell?”

“On the contrary, milord, in some ways, I believe he was the strongest of us all.”

“In what ways?”



“Patience, love, faith.  Zealousness.  A devotion I can only dream of attaining.”

“Would he have made a good Viceroy?” Chofa asked.

“Who can say?”

“You can.  Don’t dodge the question, not here, not with me.  There are no politicians here.  I’ve known you too long and as fat as that knuckle of a head of yours is, there has never been room in it for two minds about anything.”

“Sire, you know I loved him as I would had Yah blessed me to be his father…”



“Which is why I trust you to know the answer to what I ask.”

Amis took a deep breath, “no, sire, he would not have.  He was too loving.  He couldn’t have born the weight of whatever it is you bear right now.  It would have killed him.”

“I think so too.  His mother was such a gentle soul too.  Perhaps that is why she died so young as well.  They give too much and burn up far too quickly.”  They were silent for a few pulls of the wineskin.  


“I never did understand why you let him go.  It was such a crazy idea.  But you were hoping he would learn what he needed to learn, come back the person he needed to be?”  Chofa nodded his great shaggy head.  “The people do not deserve you, milord.”

“They might agree with you.”

“What?”

“Ch’loi is leaving.”

“What?!”

“She believes she must return to the Sea.  And I believe she must too.”

“Exile?”

“No, not exile, a mission.  She intends to return.”

Amis tried to wrap his head around it.  “Like father like daughter?”  It was a weak joke but Chofa smiled just the same.

“Apparently a chip off the old blockhead.”  The face was smiling but the pain in the eyes was unshielded and excruciating. 

“Milord, she will return.  I will see to it myself.”

“Thank you, dearest friend.  You have no idea what that means to me.”

They lapsed back into silence a while.  Until something occurred to Amisbhake.  “If I didn’t volunteer you were going to send me anyway, weren’t you?”

“Well, now you do have an idea what it means to me.”  Chofa smiled again.  “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to make it an order.  I’ve always been able to count on your love and devotion too, old friend.”  Amis felt a wave of pride and then a wave of pity.  How Chofa must struggle with such decisions.  And how it must feel like manipulation to use his friends’ loyalty to have them do what he felt must be done.  It was the burden of a leader and Amisbhake said a quick prayer of thanksgiving that it wasn’t his to bear.  And yet he was proud he had been counted worthy to help his friend bear it.  Two minds indeed!

“When are we to go?”

“As soon as I feel her preparations are in order.  She is bent to go and straining against my delay.  Patience is not a virtue of Ch’Voga’s she inherited.”

“There is much to do then.  Should we be getting back?”

“Not yet.  I would like to stay here and watch the sun set over the capitol one last time.”

What Monotooths really crave...

...is in this mug.
Or on this shirt.
(same link will take you to either)

i have bigger news than Blake Shelton!

No, it's not a new Cockroaches post.  Sorry.

But it just might be something better!  Has this ever happened to you?  You're perusing the King of Cockroaches hoping that worthless guy has finally put up another post to tell you what the heck has happened to Ch'Loi, Amis and Kurga and ... nothing. 

Damn.

So you scroll down to that picture of Chofa hugging Ch'Loi that makes you feel all warm and fuzzy...or makes you wish you were being hugged by someone all warm and fuzzy and you think to yourself, "self, how cool would it be to have a sweatshirt or a tank top or a v'neck with this picture on it?"

Well, now you can!  No really!  Chofa and Ch'Loi are on clothes and you can really, really buy them!  No really!  Go to my brand, spanking new society6 page and take a look around!  They're there with a couple of friends!  Including a clock with Ch'Voga and the harvest-that-chose-not-to-harvest on it!  Too cool!  Surprise your friends with an hour long dissertation on why you have a clock that sorta looks like a yin-yang but has a jewish looking lion and a cyborg on it!  Oh the laughs!  i'm laughing now just thinking about it.  So why wait?  Go today!  And if you don't see something you would like to see, drop me a comment and let me know what my next titanic struggle with photoshop and web based design should be!

Thanks from all the gang here at the King of Cockroaches!

Where'd he go?

Hey y'all, sorry to take an unscheduled hiatus from the life and times of the Girl named Son.  i'm over on my Rabbit Trails following a... um... yeah, tangent.  i'm writing and illustrating a comic just to see if i can.  Check it out if you're so inclined and haven't already seen it on my flikr, tumblr or fartbook page. 

Meanwhile, don't fret, i'm still plotting and scheming and the roaches will crawl back out of the walls soon enough.
Thanks for your support!

7: the odd bird

             Captain Rayjay took his eye from the deck mounted telescope, his jaw set in a hard line.  Kurga took a turn with the glass and commented, “what an odd bird.”

            “Indeed, Master trader, odd indeed, if it were a bird,” to Amisbhake he said, “we seem to have picked up a tick.”

            “What kind of tick can fly?” Kurga asked.

            “The kind,” Amisbhake said, “militaries use to track possible targets.  Just scouting us?”

            “Since we haven’t blown up already, I would assume so, yes,” the Captain answered.

            “It could still be coming.”

            “What?” Kurga asked, “what could still be coming?”

            “I don’t think so.  It was only luck we noticed it at all.  They would not trust to luck.  We most likely picked it up at the Caravanserai.  If they only meant to destroy us why let us cruise on so long?”

            “Who would want to destroy us?  What’s coming?”

            Amisbhake scratched his chin, “To make sure no one found us?”

            “We are well off the normal trade routes, who would find us?”

            “What do you mean, “find us?””

            Captain Rayjay put his finger to his mouth.  “Shh, adults are talking.”  To Amis, “Because we are a trading vessel well off the trade routes with a hold full of plague victims, to a military mind we are threat.  ”

            “They couldn’t possibly have any idea what we are up to.”

            “How could they?  When we don’t even know what we are up to.”  His eyes slid to Ch’loi, only for a moment but Amisbhake hadn’t missed it.  “I tell you, even if it were not illegal to be this far out into the Sea, they have every reason they need to eliminate us precisely because they do not know what we are up to.”

            “And yet, they are just following.”

            “Exactly.”

            “I see where you’re going.”

            “I wish I could say the same,” Rayjay said.

            “So do i!”  Kurga threw his hands up.

            “Captain, would you mind explaining the situation to Mr. Din Allorowro.  We benefit from his cooperation, not his confusion.”

            Captain Rayjay bowed, “Apparently his but not mine.”

            The whole conversation took place on the sterndeck by the wheel.  Ch’loi had remained where she was in the bow with her book.  Amisbhake went to her now.  “Pyanuka*, how long will you keep counsel only within yourself?”

            “Not much longer.  One is almost arrived.”

            “One is not one.  One is among kin.”

            She looked up at him sharply and her eyes, still somewhat unreal despite all the amazing work of the physicians and their uncanny vats where they grew flesh like the dairymen grew cheese, gave him a barely repressed shudder.

            “Kin will not like it.”

            “Fear not.  Trust us.  We will follow you even into death.”  He looked over his shoulder and amended, “I at least will.”

            “This is what one fears.”

(*"Pyanuka": a term of affection used mostly for children)