Mark remembered the rattling branches and the whistling wind when she made her appearance on the horizon, her black cape soaring behind. He had dismantled the tent and folded it in the casing, stuffed the blankets in the knapsacks, which were lined up against a tree for their owners when they would come back. Everything was neatly packed for the return trip.
Zohra was out of breath. Mark smiled and told her, “Take it easy, Your Highness.” He was looking forward to the cave, the luscious pond, the magnificent oval valley and Helen’s garden too. Enough of the marshlands – Segma would have to go back to her people and Simon would have to come to his senses. Period.
Those plans were put on hold when Zohra, in her metallic voice, announced the finding of a dead body.
“How far away?” he asked flatly.
“Five . . .” then re-evaluating human speed, “fifteen minutes from here…”
“We’ll come back for these later,” he said, pointing to the neatly packed gears.
Mark was jogging at a steady pace. In order to slow down to his speed, Zohra resorted to a hop.
“Do you think,” she said loudly, “it could be Segma’s alleged assailant?”
Mark was taken by surprise at the young Princess’ terminology. Her cautious approach in suggesting such a hypothesis was a sure sign of her maturity.
“Anything’s possible,” he replied.
Helen was alone when they arrived. She was sitting near the shore, her arms wrapped around her legs, in a pensive mood. She couldn’t explain to herself why an alien life lost to destiny should affect her in that way. Was her God also the same God of this Probian? Wasn’t it written that the heavens had declared the glory of God and therefore shouldn’t all creatures be God’s creation? She’d like to think so.
“Are you all right?” asked Mark.
She nodded.
On closer examination, Mark concluded that the dead man had been struck fatally from behind. A rock or heavy object had done considerable damage to his skull.
“Where’s Simon?” Zohra asked.
Helen looked at Zohra, then at Mark. “He went after Segma . . . she was going back to the jungle, to her people.”
“Damnit!” Mark said.
ZohraII: The new Queen
By Joseph Palazzo
“Once you no longer fear death… once you no longer fear pain, then no one can have power over you.”
There were days when Zit-ratu would fall back to his semi-conscious state. Zig-oktu was hoping that this wasn’t one of those.
“Even for Master Zaybu,” Zit-ratu said after a while.
Zig-oktu replied, “Yes, this applies even for Master Zaybu… Some might say that you only need to make a show of your fearlessness, but if you don’t believe in yourself such façade can easily come crumbling down.”
Spittle inadvertently landed on Zit-ratu’s whiskers. Zit-ratu did not budge.
Zig-oktu let a sigh of despair. There was never a conclusive proof that the Great Awakening has metamorphosed a worker into the universal consciousness. For some, it is sudden and decisive. For others, as in the case of Zit-ratu, it comes in bumps and long pauses in-between. When the diminutive worker showed no reactions whatsoever, and after a long pause that should have made everyone quite uncomfortable, Zig-oktu once again wondered if indeed this was one of those days. What was certain was that the lesson for today was over.
Since someone had to be in charge even among servants, Zig-oktu had been thrown into this role of leadership reluctantly. But his return to the Queen’s service had been rendered inhospitable from the time that the humans had visited Zohra. The Great Awakening had been declared for some time now, but was progressing ever slowly to his taste.
With a sense of imminent danger trailing him, he moved through the dark cavernous walls, which were spiralling unevenly. Their meagre possessions, six hyper-transports and eight pistols, hardly the equipment to start the Great Upheaval, had come about at a great cost – twenty-four lives, twenty-four conscious workers, were devastating losses.
Had they died in vain?
Sometimes, he had to fight the impulse to run, to hide forever in some remote corner of the galaxy.
“I… we…” a voice stammered.
Zig-oktu swiftly turned around, surprised that Zit-ratu had followed him in these dark-lit meandering surroundings. But then he saw that Zit-ratu’s eyes had that glazed look. He wondered for the umpteenth time if this small thread in the tapestry of galactic events had any sense. But what was needed urgently was to plan more attacks, get more weapons, scout for more workers on the verge of the Great Awakening and, more specifically, organize an all-out assault on their next target, Zarrack, the powerful minister of Truth and Knowledge.
*****
“After he gave you his answer, did he suspect anything?”
“No, Sire,” Zib-fariq said inexorably.
“And what was your mode of transportation?”
“As you requested, by hyper-skates, my Lord.” Zib-fariq said unflingingly.
Zarrack took a short step to the window, and then spun around, resetting his eyesight on his most trusted servant. “Did anyone see you arriving at the door?”
“Absolutely not, Sire.”
“And if Master Zaybu had asked you, why you didn’t use the hyper-transport, what would you have said?”
Zib-fariq looked at his Master, then lowered his eyes, and said, “That my Master was away on assignment and the hyper-transport was unavailable.”
“But he didn’t ask, or did he?”
“No, Sire.”
“Very well, go to your chores.”
Zib-fariq bowed reverentially and then stepped out.
He knew the proverbial: gossip provides both guilt and pleasures and that these were indeed trying times, but in spite of the fact that rumours abounded, the Great Upheaval was a lame excuse to explain certain recent disturbances. He wasn’t going to put too much faith on those rumours. Nevertheless, his precarious position urged him to take extra precautions. Zib-fariq had shown his undaunted devotion, why torture the poor fellow?
Twenty Zohran years ago, a black box had been lost on Osmidal. Deeds can multiply and have such unpredictable cascading effects that no one can see the foreseeable fallout. But now only one question remained: Will Zaybu, the young promising drone, the Queen’s new favourite, act accordingly to the plan. If so, everything would fall into order once again. I have to rectify the past and begin a new chapter…and as far as I am the Minister of Truth and Knowledge, I ought to know how to use truths and lies to my own advantage.
Zarrack uncontrollably fell into a roaring laughter.
joseph palazzo
