Tom scrambled.
“Truly a misunderstanding,” he submitted. “Absolutely no threat.”
“Of course,” Towtzaw said with a [dismissive] gesture. “Unhkte has shown you the hatchery and pit, I infer, and now you look upon the laying Sootskee.”
“Stop!” an overseer yelled, and kicked one of the quivering young.
Zero reaction from Towtzaw or Unhkte.
“You, stop!” from another overseer, who then plucked a long curved rod from the wall and thwacked a child in the head.
ANGELA: WTH? They’re kids!
TOM: I know. Just don’t say anything. Please.
“As you see,” Towtzaw resumed. “This is where Sootskee are prepared.”
“I have a question,” Angela said via her Livetrans. Tom grabbed her wrist and glared at her. “For how long must the young be still like this?”
“It varies from generation to generation,” Towtzaw replied. “Typically, no less than eighty days; no more than two hundred. Individuals incapable of preparation after so long are disqualified from keepock.”
TOM: Don’t say another word. Step out if you need to.
“Eighty days?” Angela wasn’t done. “This is how you treat your own people? I can’t imagine what lesson a person learns from beatings and from being prevented from even moving.”
TOM: Walk away, Angela. I’m begging you. You’re alienating our only advocates.
Fortunately, in her rage, Angela wasn’t even attempting to deliver associated gestures. No emotion was conveyed. To Towtzaw, Angela’s comments were purely academic.
“Is it not obvious?” Towtzaw replied. “They learn to be still.”
Tom closed his eyes.
Crapshake.
“Thank you for showing us the Sootskee,” Tom interjected, anxious to get Angela out of this place. “Best wishes with the current generation.” He turned and pushed Angela out the door before whatever tirade she was surely writing spat from her PA.
Though oblivious, Towtzaw seemed intent on twisting the blade. “Significant leniencies compared to prior generations. Since retiring spiked prods, young Threck no longer wear the scars of prior generations.”
“No such fortune for you or me,” Unhkte said to Towtzaw, and ran a palm over her own faint keloid scars. “Are you certain about tonight? They’re prepared?”
Unseen by either Threck, Tom slapped Angela’s visor shut and pinched the PA speaker on her sternum between thumb and forefinger. He could feel in his fingertips the vibrations from her muted rant. His eyes pleaded as she yelled at him, her visor relegating her voice to a faint babble.
He fired off an M.
TOM: Do you HONESTLY think a foreign species can change a civilization’s age-old practices by yelling at them? Control your emotions!
Unhkte stepped out of the doorway and looked at Tom, who held Angela behind his back.
An alarm whistle screeched from up high, in the distance. Unhkte looked to the sky and listened. It sounded as if it’d come from the top of the tower. The overseers at the mud pit shouted commands and sprang in with the young, who quickly quieted.
Towtzaw emerged from the doorway, bronze-tipped spear at the ready. She surveyed the nursery area. More whistles screeched in the distance.
“Where is it?” Towtzaw asked as more nursery workers appeared from somewhere at the end of the water pool, torches and weapons held out before them.
Everyone grew still again, waiting for more alerts. Finally, three toots sounded from the tower, followed by the same note, but prolonged a few seconds.
ANGELA: What’s happening? Pablo and Zees coming to get us? Aether and Qin?
Towtzaw and Unhkte appeared to relax. The other Threck, too, lowered their weapons and turned back from whence they came.
“The harbor,” Unhkte said to Tom. “Only small number of raiders. Nothing for us to fear. Let us be off to our final—”
Towtzaw interrupted. “Is it prudent? Perhaps tomorrow instead?”
“We cannot keep them here overnight,” Unhkte replied. “We must show them what they need to see, and send them back to the farms.”
Tom looked at Angela and saw in her expression the same relief he felt. He released her and she remained quiet.
Towtzaw signaled reluctant acceptance and returned to her room.
Unhkte turned back to Tom. “Now we go to the sacred place. At the path’s fork, I will signal you to begin silence. There can be no distractions for the prepared Sootskee.”
“We understand,” Tom said, set his gaze on Angela, and followed Unhkte back to the bridge. His gut felt heavy and taut. Never one to hold her tongue in the presence of a perceived outrage—even relatively minor wrongs—Angela was especially triggered by abuse of children and the defenseless. What if the next step in the Threck brand of child rearing was even worse than the last?
A pair of city guards accompanied Unhkte, Tom, and Angela beyond the northwest gate, outside the main city wall. One walked ahead of the group and the other picked up the rear.
Walking across one of the great mossy fields that surrounded the city (“parks” to the station crew, but cleared by Threck city builders purely for security), the party entered the jungle through a pair of seemingly random shrubs. Inside, the vegetation appeared unmaintained and untrodden, sparking a fresh bubbling of anxiety in Tom’s gut.
After a few stream crossings, the guard behind Angela spoke up.
“Will we guards be allowed to observe the keepock ritual as well?”
Unhkte’s motions indicated annoyance. “You will be present, but your attention should be on your duty, should it not?”
“Of course, Dowfwoss. Duty for certain.”
Instead of a translation appearing for the term keepock, a link to the wiki appeared in Tom’s fone. Definitely eager to know what was in store for them, Tom accessed Minnie’s entry on the ritual.
Keepock – Threck rite of passage consisting of single or multiple (never more than 4) youths aged 2-3yrs (prepubescent—human physequiv 6-10yrs), sent unsupervised to sacred arboreal circle 1.3K NNW of NW gate for 3 nights. Upon completion, youths are advanced from nursery to primary education. INC. Compound: -kee – as suffix, generally associated with Threck youth (ie sootskee, setkee, eskee); kee- – to-date unique usage as prefix sans Es (ie eskee-) is keepock. –pock – animal, self-mobilizing lifeform (erroneously inclusive of ‘thratze’ mykota glacius “glacier shroom”), poorly defined as thing which lives and moves of own power and intent.
Relieved, Tom closed the wiki. While looking forward to bidding farewell to Unhkte, arriving at the rally point, and sleeping… oh, please tell me Zisa and Pablo setup more than just their own tents… he found himself oddly thrilled by a revelation. How many wiki articles could he correct, expand, or create based upon this day alone? And then the buzz deflated, spluttering off like a balloon. For what purpose? There was no more legion of eager scientists awaiting their periodic influx of Epsilon C data. Or rather, the legion still existed, but the conduit to them had been irrevocably destroyed. Earth wouldn’t haven’t the faintest clue of a problem for another three years. In six months, and for another twenty-plus years, full supply pods would brush past scattered station debris and probably explode while entering the atmosphere, raining extraterrestrial materials onto the oceans and surface.