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31

Drive (ongoing story) / Part 48: Endless Waves

« Last post by Daen on May 23, 2023, 12:40:17 AM »

They had been rolling for days now. At first, Rane had been overwhelmed just observing as Moss directed the cart around the rocks and hills. When he'd been given control, he'd nearly rolled them right down a sheer cliff! He had learned quickly though, and now he handled the controls with a lot more confidence.

It was still so miraculous, from Rane's perspective. They were… actually moving through the hills, heading west towards the sea. Like a massive qar crawling its way, or a rollweed tumbling across the ground. Mobility!

Moss had spent most of the trip in silent contemplation, aside from periodically offering to take the controls so Rane could go into dormancy. Rane had allowed that only rarely, and then reluctantly, because he wanted to get used to it. Even when he wasn't directing their course, Rane spent the time thinking back over it, and getting very little rest.

Now they were moving through what was hopefully the worst of it. Because their cart couldn't handle steep climbs, they had to go around the biggest ones, which meant skirting the edges of the mountains inside the Desolation. Moss had impressed upon him the importance of speed here, but haste would do them little good if he ended up flipping the cart and rolling them both into a ravine. Rane didn't have many opportunities to be self-congratulatory, but he had to admit, he'd become a fine carter. If that was the right word.

He'd tried speaking to Moss now and then, early on, but his friend barely responded. Aside from giving him the occasional bit of advice about their course, or how to avoid getting stuck, Moss had continued his internal planning. At first, Rane had been afraid he might try to leave him behind again. That was one of the other reasons he'd been so reluctant to give up control. But as they continued, he was more and more certain Moss was thinking of other things.

It had to be their plan. Whatever that plan was. Moss hadn't said a word about it, so all Rane had was his theories. He might not be the greenest branch in the grove, but he wasn't stupid either. They'd consumed more than half of the water and fuel that had come with the cart, which meant they were heading somewhere they could resupply. They weren't heading to any Union grove—of that he was certain. All the groves west of their hometown had been burned to ash. That meant the resuppliers would be sandkin.

Char had been the only sandkin he'd ever met, as far as he'd known anyway. She wasn't anything like that trejun lord who had seemed so impressive, in his own aloof way. She'd been personable and chatty, insightful and patient with all the questions sent her way, and calmly confident in both her people and the Union. He could understand why Moss had bonded with her. But how much of that had been genuine? The last foreign visitor they'd hosted had been lying right from the start! Was she really such an outgoing and engaging person, or had she just been pretending? Sure, the sandkin had turned balance of the war in their favor again, but what would happen when the war was over? If it ever ended. Like the strange repetitive noise coming from up ahead, he felt like the fighting might continue forever.

Rane tried not to think about that. The only family he had in grove Praska was his grandmother. Jora had raised him well, in addition to her duties as Grovekeeper, but she'd been opposed to his decision to join up. She'd been worried he might die up there, or come back changed, as Moss had also feared. Rane felt shame over how he'd responded to her at first. "People are dying all over the Union, all to keep us safe, grandmother! I have a duty to help them—to make their sacrifice worth it! Not to do so would be wrong, and you taught me to value what's right."

She'd been so relieved when he'd told her he was going with Moss instead. So had he actually, but privately. As much as he felt it was his duty to defend the Union, he didn't want to risk dying. Or killing someone.

Whoa. Up ahead, the terrain was changing. Rock gave way to sand, and tough, wiry plants were disappearing as they moved on. Sand couldn't support much by way of plant life. And beyond that… was something he couldn't even comprehend.

Rane had seen enzyme images of the ocean, but actually experiencing it directly was something else! The repetitive noise he'd heard before was amplified tenfold, and the rush of water, so much louder than that sloshing he'd heard back in Praska's aqueduct, stretched out to the north and west for leagues! It was mixed in with animal noises, too. Strange-sounding small birds were soaring above the waves. They weren't like the small ones back home at all. Their… what was the word? Beaks? Yes, their beaks were much larger, and they stayed up there for long times by comparison. The little birds in Praska would flit from tree to tree, or from treqar to treqar, and then sit, making their little songs. Here, these creatures just floated up there, swaying back and forth like he'd done directing their cart this far.

Speaking of which, he didn't know where to go from here. He sent an enzymatic prod in Moss' direction. "Hey."

It took a couple more prods, but Moss eventually came out of whatever dream he'd been having, and took in their surroundings. "Wow."

"Yeah. Reading about it just isn't the same, is it? Now, where do we go? You just said reach the sea, and we have."

"South," Moss directed. "Stay on the sand, but out of the water. The wheels are wide enough to handle it—they were built by desert-dwellers after all."

"You got it."

He was getting used to the noise from the 'waves' as he'd read them described. Apparently at some times of the season, the waves were higher, and at others lower. Sometimes they pushed further into the sands, and sometimes less. "How long will we be on the sand?" He asked casually.

"Not long," Moss said distractedly. "A few hours, maybe. I'm not sure where the settlement is."

Rane kept in a surge of satisfaction. Finally, some details! The sandkin settlement, he assumed. He was eager to meet more of them, and compare them to Char. Unless they were under attack or something. He didn't want to fight, but he was willing to. Their cart had a pair of thunderers in the front and back, and he was trained in using them. He'd been practicing with the articulator limb even before leaving with Moss. Maybe now was the time to press his luck and wheedle more information about what they were doing all the way out here. "So, anything I should know about this settlement? Should I start loading the thunderers?"

Moss let out some amusement. "I doubt it. They're expecting us. Hopefully they'll have what we need to continue the journey. If not, for all I know, they'll just resupply us and send us back to grove Praska."

That hadn't been the answer Rane was expecting. "Wait, what? You mean you don't know what the plan is? Then what have you been pondering for days now?"

"I know the general plan, Rane; don't worry. I just don't know if it starts at the settlement or somewhere else. As for what I've been 'pondering', I… I'd rather not get into it."

"Ah." That was a relief. "Female troubles, then?"

Moss' sense sharpened suddenly, but then softened a bit. "You could tell, huh?"

"It's not much of a stretch, actually. It really only could have been one or the other. Are you sure you don't want to talk about it? I'm a good listener, and I can keep a secret."

"I don't want to bore you either."

Rane tried to hold in his incredulity. "Moss, we've been traveling in near-silence for days. As wondrous as controlling the cart has been, I could use the distraction."

His friend hesitated again. All right. "We've got some time before we reach the settlement."

32

New Releases / Drive Part 47 added, 5/15/23

« Last post by Daen on May 15, 2023, 10:16:29 PM »

Drive Part 47 added, 5/15/23

33

Drive (ongoing story) / Part 47: Regrets

« Last post by Daen on May 15, 2023, 10:15:49 PM »

"Please, Allain. We need this, you know it!"

Char waited impatiently for the lag in the transmission to finish up, so that her distant friend could respond. Allain was actually still in Hightop, many leagues to the south. Given the limited range on their radios, their conversation required two relays between them. Fortunately the sandkin in the relays could be trusted to keep this conversation to themselves. Allain had chosen them specifically for their skills and their discretion.

Despite her years working undercover, this was actually the first time Char had used a radio personally. It was still a new technology, actually. The Union had come up with them only a few decades ago, and the sandkin had been able to acquire one and figure out how it worked about eight years ago. How they'd done that had been a mystery to her. Most likely, she hadn't been the only spy working for the sandkin within the Union.

For some reason, message sent by the radios was instant, but only up to a certain distance. After that, the message didn't arrive at all. That distance was increased by elevation, strangely enough. As a result the relay locations were both on high ground. Moss had told her that the Union came to the same conclusion long ago. They had determined that the terrain itself could block radio messages. He suspected, though he'd told no one but her, that the ground actually curved. At a very, very slow rate, and therefore imperceptible to any individuals. That meant, if Tarn was large enough, it might actually be… spherical in shape!

It was a ridiculous notion, of course. Moss had been wise to tell only her. But who knew for sure? Perhaps once this war was over, people could travel in every direction, on both land and sea, and find out the truth. She could dream, anyway.

"I'm sorry, Char," her distant friend finally got back to her. "I told you, the sandkin won't support a peace envoy at this time. Even if I called for a vote, we would be outnumbered nine to one. Everyone here is too focused on the upcoming move north to care anyway. Those who aren't already up in the green lands, fighting the trejuns there."

It was disappointing, but not entirely surprising. Besides, she'd come prepared. "I'm not asking for them to send a peace envoy. Tell them this is intelligence gathering, which is technically true! We still know so little about the trejuns, and the Union knows barely any more than we do! All I ask is that by the time M—uh, my friend—gets to Sprayhaven, there's a water-equipped cart there waiting for him. One big enough for two, actually," she amended quickly. The people in the relay knew who her friend was, but others might be listening in. Also, Moss had told her that his friend would be going along. He seemed uncomfortable with the idea, but she'd been glad to hear he would have company. She'd been alone inside enemy territory for years on end as a spy, and couldn't recommend it to anyone.

There was another long delay, and she once again considered the miracles that were these little communication devices. Sure, communication roots were more durable, and if they included copper wiring, could send messages just as fast, but they had to be laid down first! Remote communication had been a practical impossibility until the Union had done it. For all their bloated bureaucracy, their short-sighted authority figures, and their reactionary instincts, she did have to admit they did have some bright individuals.

Her intangible compliment faded as she considered Moss. He was part of the Union too. Bright could also mean calculating, or cold, or murderous.

She didn't care what he said. This was penance to him, clearly. He would give the trejun civilians a chance to survive, or die trying. All because he'd sacrificed lives before, and didn't want to live with that over the long haul. She knew better than to talk with him about it, too. He would just deny it again, but perhaps Rane could get through to him. She barely knew the young sapling going with him, but he seemed to be a good influence on Moss. At least they wouldn't have to wait and build their own cart here. She'd already been able to convince the majority to get them passage out west, though the carts would be sent back as soon as they arrived.

Allain's response finally came through again. "All right, Char. I can't promise anything of course, but with the rocky terrain, it should take more than a week for your friends to get all the way over to Sprayhaven. By then, the foundry there should have a cart ready for them. The people here are listening to the reports you send in, so you have that long to convince them that 'scouting' Trejuna is the right move. I'll argue your case as well, but there's only so much I can do. We've all had a lot of new experiences down here, and you know how bad sandkin are at adapting. Allain, out."

Char shut off the radio with some relief. Allain's last sentences had been something of an understatement actually. While her people excelled at planning ahead and sticking to their plans, as evidenced by the desert-wide network of communication roots, he was right about their lack of adaptation. They hadn't expected to be revealed to the outside world, much less be at war with part of it, for centuries yet. A lot of them had had a very Union-like response to being attacked, and would therefore be unlikely to support peace for a long time.

It was up to her to convince them.

The sandkin convoy was pulling up even now, and they sent a light signal out to her, which she acknowledged. They would siphon off water from the nearby aqueduct, and partition off a large cart for Moss an Rane to use, but they wouldn't be putting down roots. They were only here to pick her up, and convey her north into the warzone. Reluctantly, Char used her articulator limb to connect with grove Praska's network again. This probably wouldn't be pleasant.

Several dozen people popped up into view, with similar auras to the ones she'd seen over the past few days. Most of the young people were clustered together, and took interest in her sudden arrival. She sent out a polite declination to their request that she join them, and instead focused on the elders. She exchanged brief greetings with the Grovekeeper Jora, and then directed her attention to Moss' father. Wordless communication among the Union groves wasn't easy, but she'd practiced over the years. She sent him a silent request for a private chat, and he agreed without being too obvious about it.

By the Core, she missed sandkin territory! Everyone was so open, there. So honest and forthright. There was no doublespeak, or innuendo, or deception. It had been so refreshing, even if she'd only been there for a few days. And here she was, back among the manipulators.

She braced herself, and spoke respectfully once they were in relative isolation from the others. "I wanted to speak with you again, sir. To thank you for your hospitality, and for looking after the object Moss told you about."

"Bah. I told you before, missy. Call me belhiera'torahn'salk. You're bonded to my son. That makes us family." Despite his slight condescension, which she was reasonably sure was by accident, he did sound friendly.

"I'll try to remember that," she said with some bemusement.

"So I hear Moss will be leaving tomorrow. With little Rane at his side. I don't suppose you could tell me where they're going?"

"I'm afraid not."

He sent out some ambivalence. "Just as well. I'd probably just worry anyway. Besides, you're leaving before he is, aren't you? Today, unless I'm off the mark."

That surprised her, and she knew that it showed. "How did you know that?"

Belhiera'torahn'salk just let out some amusement. "Credit an old soul with some perceptiveness. Those sandkin friends of yours out there aren't getting out of their carts, are they? Even from here, I can sense their impatience. They're waiting for you, aren't they?"

With some anguish, she sent out an affirmative.

"I knew it. You probably have some very important task to do, helping with the war effort, or maybe back home in the Desolation. You'll be missed here, though; especially by the youngsters. You've sparked their imagination in a big way with all your stories. That's a good thing. The last time we had a foreign dignitary here, it didn't work out well for us."

He was referring to the trejun ambassador, naturally. "Yes, I heard. We're nothing like the trejuns, you know. We've spent the last few hundred years trying to stay as hidden as possible. We're only here because they dragged us out of hiding and attacked us."

Belhiera'torahn'salk studied her for a long moment. "Well, Moss said the same thing, and I have no reason to doubt his judgement. You know how much the Union has suffered, especially in this part of the continent. Those burns fade slowly, if at all, and we have long memories."

"I know a thing or two about being burned, and about healing, sir."

He let out more amusement. "I suppose you do, at that."

There was another awkward silence, and she decided to address it directly. "I know this can't be comfortable for you at all. I'm almost certainly not the companion you had in mind for Moss. I want you to know I'm aware of that, and I sympathize. He wasn't what I had in mind either, at first."

"I imagine not. Don't worry, I'm not upset. We all have to adapt to changing circumstances, and Moss has been a changing circumstance ever since he was old enough to speak. I urge you, though. Whatever is wrong between the two of you, talk it out before you leave. I don't know when you'll be back, or if you ever will, so you don't want to leave with that bugging you. It will eat at you—trust me on that."

Again, his insight caught her by surprise. "Moss told you?"

He sent out a negative. "We don't really talk about those kinds of things. But I know my son very, very well, and I have five bonded myself. I know the signs. They're not here in grove Praska, thankfully. I never had the misfortune of living with any of my bonded. Still, they and my children are all important to me. Whatever issues you two have, settle them while you're still able to easily."

Moss had told her his father was a political animal—who had been controlling and distant while he'd been growing up. He seemed to think the old man cared very little for family, other than how he could use them to further his own aspirations. This was a very different person than the one Moss had described. Maybe it was a Union thing. Her own adoptive mother had been distant, even before she'd been moved to the Arbormass. Were parents here just culturally influenced to be as authoritative as possible to their offspring?

She was tempted to explain that they did things differently among the sandkin, but he might end up taking it as an insult. Instead, she sent out an agreement. "Thank you… belhiera'torahn'salk. You've given me a lot to think about."

"I have that knack," he responded easily. "Now, off you go. You've got things to do, and not much time I imagine. Certainly not enough time to keep humoring someone like me."

It was said self-deprecatingly, but she could tell that it was in jest. She again agreed, and disconnected with a fond farewell.

34

New Releases / Drive Part 46 added, 4/28/23

« Last post by Daen on April 28, 2023, 08:10:26 PM »

Drive Part 46 added, 4/28/23

35

Drive (ongoing story) / Part 46: What a Real Friend Would Do

« Last post by Daen on April 28, 2023, 08:09:54 PM »

"What do you mean, you're leaving?" His father demanded sharply. Unusually, there was no anger or disappointment in his aura. Just curiosity and fear.

Moss let out some annoyance. "I thought the sentence was self-explanatory," he jibbed.

"Don't make light of this, Moss! You've done what you needed to. You've served the Union well, and you've done it without taking lives! Despite our disagreements in the past, I've always respected your regard for the lives of others. Are you suddenly willing to just throw that away and join up with the military?"

Only long experience kept Moss' self-loathing hidden. Without taking lives. There were a bunch of blackened corpses back in Sharpcrag who would disagree with that assessment. "I'm not going with the military, father. I have my own task to complete."

"But why? Haven't you done enough for them already? You're home, finally, when many of us thought you would die far away from your own grove! Let others carry on this task, whatever it is. Stay with us, son."

That was the last layer of snow, which caused the branches to break. Moss felt a surge of anger overcome his shame. "Son? Since when have you treated me like a son, sahta'shk'oss? Why are you bothering to care now, after decades of having a political prop instead of a child? Why should I believe you've suddenly grown a soul, after so long without one? We've been strangers since I was a seedling! Why do you think I lived apart from the others, and only connected roots when it was absolutely necessary??"

He expected anger, even rage from the older treqar, but got nothing but sorrow and regret. "I'm sorry, Moss. I really am."

Moss let out a burst of sardonic humor. "Sorry isn't enough. One apology can't make up for a lifetime of neglect."

"But I offer it all the same," his father went on. Implacably, but sincerely as best Moss could tell. "You're right. I was obsessed with my status; with being the next Grovekeeper, or even a representative to Grove Heirach. I put you aside in favor of my own ambitions, and I was wrong. I know that now. When we saw those juns coming at us, I knew I was about to die. I thought back on what I'd done, and what I'd failed to do. I thought of your mother, and how we haven't spoken in such a long time. How much happier you would have been under her care than mine!"

It was like a flash flood, as the words kept coming. A rainbow of emotions poured out with the words, as if his father was coming apart at his very core. "Then the thunderers changed position and started firing at the juns, and I knew it was you. Somehow, wherever you were, you were protecting us. Despite my selfishness, and my arrogance, you were still there for us. I know, you were probably doing it for Rane's sake, and for the others, but you still did it. Thank you for saving my life."

Moss felt his own anger fade a little. The exact identities of the people controlling the thunderers that day were supposed to be a secret, but apparently his father had figured it out. "I don't want your thanks," he said bluntly.

"But you have it all the same." There was a long silence, contrasted by his father's open emotions, like bark stripped away and bare to the whole world. For his part, Moss was keeping his guard tightly up. Just because he hadn't expected this response, didn't mean it was genuine. He'd been fooled before, and by the same person.

Finally, his father spoke again. "If you felt this way, then why did you bring that here?" He indicated the object now resting between the two of them.

"Where else could I take it?" Moss let out angrily. "I wasn't about to leave it in the Desolation, and I couldn't exactly bring it into a war zone! You were the best of a bunch of really bad options. I knew you'd look after it, if only to maintain your own image."

"I've changed. I'm more than just that person, now. Facing your own death will do that, as I'm sure you know."

Moss' disbelief must have leaked out, because his father finally put out some indignation of his own. "I'll prove it. When you come back to claim this, it'll be safe and sound at my side. I swear it."

"We'll see," Moss answered with a little confusion. He was sounding a little more like the hard, distant father he'd always been, but he also seemed sincere. "I should get ready for my trip."

That was satisfying: dismissing his father like that. Still, it didn't feel as good as he'd thought it would.

His father made his excuses and disconnected his roots, thankfully. Moss didn't have time to relax though, because Rane had apparently been waiting on him. He showed up just afterwards, and Moss braced himself at what his younger friend might say. Selfishly, Moss did sort of hope that Rane was about to announce he was joining the military after all. No, that was an unworthy thought. Whatever he had to say, Moss would take it like an adult. Like his father would have, if only for his public image.

"Hey, Moss," Rane started out hesitantly. "I've… been thinking a lot about what you said. I didn't send off my application to join up just yet. I couldn't really focus on anything else for the better part of a day. I couldn't even go into dormancy last night."

"I know," Moss answered sympathetically. "I could sense you being awake, but I didn't want to bother you. Still, there are some things I need to tell—”

"No, let me say this," he interrupted, and his sense grew sharper. More confident. "When those Union qars took you away the first time, I didn't know if I'd ever see you again. I didn't even know why you were leaving at first. I thought it was something I'd done! But when the war started and we got news of all the burning and deaths, I knew you were thinking of ways to stop it. You've always been the smart one. I felt comforted because I knew you were out there, protecting us in your own way.

"But the thing is, I was also angry! So mad, all the time! Hearing about my pen pals and distant friends dying one after another, and all I could do to help was donate my qars to the war effort! I felt so helpless, and it was true. None of us could do anything."

He let out a stream of anger and frustration. "You said you liked who I am. Your kind, gentle, passive friend in this tiny grove on the edge of nowhere. You've definitely changed since you've been away. You're harder now, more closed off. Before you were quiet, but you were always attentive. Now… you're something different.

"But I've changed, too! I don't want to be kind anymore. I don't think being gentle is what we need. And being passive nearly killed all of us! I want to experience the world outside this tiny spot on the map. If you say that joining the military isn't a good way to do that, then I'm inclined to trust you. So, yes. I want that cart you promised me. I want to go with you, out into the world. We'll find some other way to help the Union, other than killing people, I mean."

Moss felt all twisted up inside. This was it. "The thing is, Rane, my plans have changed. I'm leaving, as soon as I can build a cart, and I probably won't be coming back." That was true in many ways. For all he knew, even if he did make it all the way out to Trejuna, the trejuns would just kill him or take him hostage. Not that it would do them any good, but a lot of people didn't let a little thing like objective reality stop them from doing what they wanted to. "Don't worry, though. I'll make sure you get that cart you wanted. If I can't build it myself before I leave, I'll insist that the sandkin donate one of theirs. You'll be free to go wherever you choose."

"Where are you—” Rane cut off, his sense one of anger now. He tamped it down quickly, though. "I take it you can't tell me where you're going?"

"No. Only that it'll be dangerous. It's something I have to do, though. I, well, it would take too long to explain."

"Then I have to come with you," he responded resolutely. "I don't care where you're going. If you're going to be in danger, then I'll be there to watch out for you this time around."

In some corner in the back of his mind, Moss had considered that possibility. That Rane might let his seedhood hero worship make him do something stupid. Like traveling to an enemy nation during a time of war. Still, actually hearing the request felt unreal to him. "You did get the part about probably not coming back, right?"

"You got the part where I don't care, right? Hey, Moss. It's largely on your word that I don't trust the military anymore. If you're going to risk your life to help your people, and we both know that you are, then I get to risk the same thing for the same reason. You don't have the right to leave me behind. And if you try, I'll stop you."

That caught him by surprise. Not just Rane refusing to back down, but also threatening him! And he could stop Moss if he wanted to. Just the rumor that the hero of the Union wasn't joining up with the Union's military after his rest in his home grove, would be enough to put him under scrutiny. All Rane had to do was send a single enzyme message to the right person, and Moss wouldn't get anywhere near the coast, much less the ocean itself. It seemed Rane had done some growing up while Moss had been away.

He examined Rane's sense briefly. Determination was there in full force, but it was laced with tension as well. He wasn't sure what Moss would decide. Come to think of it, Moss wasn't either.

But then, it wasn't his decision, was it? Rane was an adult as well. Moss wasn't sure how useful he'd be in this expedition across the sea, but he would be glad for the company. Who was he to tell a fully-grown treqar that he didn't have the right to do as he pleased?

"All right," he said finally, and Rane let out a burst of excitement. "Shush! Do you want everyone to know? We have to keep this under roots for now, understood? As far as anyone else is concerned, we're preparing to join in the war effort. No one can know where we're really going until after we're gone. Preferably not even then. Got that?"

"Got it. Now, how can I help with our building two carts?"

Bemused, Moss gave him some basic instructions, and they got to work. There was always the option of ditching him somewhere safe, once they were underway. Rane didn't know a thing about mechanical design, so Moss could easily strand him somewhere that Union forces would find him. Still, the Core had given Moss a place of importance in this nation's destiny. Who was to say it hadn't done the same for Rane as well?

36

New Releases / Drive Part 45 added, 4/21/23

« Last post by Daen on April 21, 2023, 05:22:26 PM »

Drive Part 45 added, 4/21/23

37

Drive (ongoing story) / Part 45: A Branch to Grab Onto

« Last post by Daen on April 21, 2023, 05:21:32 PM »

Another convoy of carts arrived the next day, and Char took the opportunity to reposition herself. She was actually getting used to this back and forth thing by now. Her roots had shortened, and her leaves limited their growth so as to avoid needing extra water. It took an effort each time to make sure her roots didn't extend too far outwards, but it made the transition much easier.

This time she was settling down in a hole dug not far from Moss' own position. She'd made the request herself, though reluctantly. She'd also ignored Moss' communications until the move was complete, with a certain vindictive pleasure. It didn't feel too good being the one in the dark, did it?

As the sandkin convoy moved on, Char connected a synthetic root to his own, creating a supposedly private conversation. Moss didn't speak at first, but then after a moment, sent out a stream of curiosity mixed with apprehension. "I wasn't sure you'd ever talk to me again."

"Don't think too much of it," she responded acidly. "This is official business and nothing more. Are you sure no one else can hear this?"

"I believe so. There is one way to be sure, but I don't think you'll like it. We could bond again. That would ensure privacy."

Char had to work hard to keep her fear from showing. "That won't be necessary. As you know, my people gave me a radio before sending us out from Hightop. They've been keeping me updated on the treaty negotiations with the Union, among other things. Recent reports have them a little disturbed, though. I was ordered to loop you in, provided you can keep it secret from the rest of the Union. I know how good you are at keeping secrets, so I agreed on your behalf."

She could tell that stung a little, but didn't gain as much pleasure from doing it as she thought she would. Moss sent out an agreement. "Go ahead."

"Allain is my contact in Hightop. He's been compiling reports sent by sandkin agents all over the Orja and inside the Union. He showed them to me, and I'm disturbed as well. It seems your people won't be content just forcing the trejuns back to their side of the ocean. From what we've been hearing, your Chancellor and her advisors are building carts that can cross water!"

Moss sent out some shock at that, but it was immediately followed by contemplation. "How would that even work? It's possible that they could make a cart that would float, if it was hollow and big enough, but how would they move it? Wheels couldn't do that, not underwater."

Despite herself, Char was amused. He was a builder, bark and soul. His first response to troubling news was how it was being done, not what it meant. "From what Allain told me, they turned the wheels sideways. When a wheel spins, it pulls water in from one side, and pushes it out the other. That makes the cart move. They only have a few prototypes as far as we can tell, and they move very, very slowly, but they work."

Finally, he caught up. "But if they want to cross the ocean, they want to invade Trejuna?"

"Or destroy it. Allain thinks they plan to build whole convoys of these water carts, and blast away at Trejuna's shore. Not just until they surrender, but until they're all dead!"

Moss hesitated, and Char did understand his response. He hated violence, but he also hated the trejuns for what they'd done. They'd destroyed more than a third of the Union, for Core's sake! It was only natural that his people would want to exact total vengeance for that. Even Moss seemed to feel that urge himself. She knew him well enough to sense that, at least.

"What are the sandkin going to do about it?"

Char let out some frustration. "There's not much we can do anymore. We've already solidified the treaty, trading our technology and resources for land to occupy in the southern parts of the Union. My people are already preparing carts to move up here, but we're not supposed to even know about these water carts, much less want to stop them. Assuming we even do want to stop them. Even Allain seemed split on that one."

"I still have my reputation as a Union hero. If I make a public statement, people will listen to me. If I were to break my loyalty oath, and make that information public to the entire Union, would that give your people the leverage they need to stop it? To force the Chancellor to accept the trejuns' surrender, if they offer it?"

Again, Char was surprised. "You'd do that? You know the Union's penalty for treason. I doubt you could bond with a Union citizen to protect yourself this time around."

Moss only twitched his branches a little. "It wouldn't be the first time I sacrificed for my people. As long as it's for all of my people and not just the ones in charge, I don't mind."

Char felt her earlier fears about him start to evaporate. Maybe bonding with him hadn't been a bad influence as she'd thought. Maybe some of her sandkin values were starting to push him in another direction. Not that it would matter, if his people ended up executing him anyway. She sent out a negative. "No, given public sentiment about the trejuns and the war, I doubt even this information, or your status as a Union hero, would sway things. Don't break your oath, because it wouldn't do any good even if you did."

"Understood."

They both stayed in silence for a long while, turning the problem over and over in their minds. Or at least Char was; she had no idea what Moss was thinking about. Bonding would fix that, but she didn't know if she could ever do that with him again. With anyone, really.

"I have to go to Trejuna," he said suddenly.

Jolted out of her thoughts, Char had to think that through for a second. "What? Are you crazy?"

"Probably, but it's not like that matters anymore. I assume your people are sending you north shortly? Either off to grove Heirach, or to whatever mobile group has the Chancellor in it?"

"They are. I'm supposed to be picked up the day after tomorrow. I don't know exactly where I'm going, but Allain said I should use the radio to keep being a liaison between your people and mine."

"Your people wouldn't condone a peace emissary being sent to Trejuna, would they? Not this soon after they were attacked."

"Definitely not. Sharpcrag is still fresh in everybody's mind," she said, remembering uncomfortably how she felt about it. "Allain thinks if we put it to a national vote, fewer than twenty percent would be in favor of peace, at least until the whole continent has been reclaimed. After that, it's less clear."

"Then I'm the only option," he concluded. "Your people would never let you go to Trejuna, not with your position of importance as a liaison. None of my people want to go either. That leaves me."

He set out some chagrin. "Look, the war has already turned in the Union's favor. My people are pushing west even now. It's only a matter of time before we reach the sea. If the Chancellor has her way, we'll build huge numbers of water carts, cross the ocean, and kill every last trejun on their island! If I leave right away though, I might be able to get to Trejuna in time to show them what they're up against. If I can convince them to surrender before those carts get built, then the sandkin might be able to convince my people to accept that surrender. Or you might, actually. I doubt they'd listen to Allain if he's hundreds of leagues away. That way the war ends, but most of the people stay alive."

Char seriously doubted that it would be as simple as he was making it sound, but at least he had a plan. That was more than he could say for her own people right now. They were just following the Union's lead, and the Union was being led by people who were apparently fine with genocide! "What kinds of terms do you think your Chancellor will demand? Reparations? Criminal prosecution of the warmasters who survive the war? Will she want territory from Trejuna as a concession?"

"I don't know," Moss admitted. "Any or all of them, maybe. But at least this way they'll be talking and not fighting. If doing this saves even a few lives, it'll be worth it, but I have to try either way. I can't believe that every single one of the trejuns was in favor of this war. It's more likely that they are just afraid of what their president will do to them, if they speak out against it."

Char thought back to the enzyme recordings she'd reviewed while being a part of the Arbormass. She remembered experiencing each one individually, as the various groves had been consumed by Streek Fire. Perhaps some of the trejuns hadn't been in favor of burning those people to death, but they hadn't stopped it either. If concern for their own safety had stopped them from keeping other people alive, that made them the opposite of Moss. He didn't care if he lived or died, as long as he spent his life keeping others safe.

Trying not to think about the likelihood of that happening, she tried to stay on topic. "How would you even get there? All of the carts around us are already being used, either to go to war or to relocate my people up north."

"I'll build my own," he responded confidently. "I'm a hero of the Union. If people ask, I'll just tell them I plan to join the war effort myself. No one will question me. I was planning on building one anyway—” he cut off abruptly. "Oh, Void!"

"What is it?"

Regret flooded out from him. "I promised Rane—oh, Core forgive me. What will I tell him??"

Char recognized that name. He was one of the villagers here in Praska, and apparently a friend of Moss'. She was tempted to offer a suggestion or two, but didn't know enough about the situation. Char had learned through bitter experience that trying to help when you weren't familiar with the details often just made things worse.

Eventually, Moss snapped out of it. "I'll have to think of something," he said despondently. "He won't be happy, but I'd say giving an entire civilization the chance of survival is a little more important."

Still with no idea what he meant, Char brought up something else that she'd been meaning to find out about. "What about the other thing? The—” she hesitated. There was no guarantee this conversation was private. Somehow, this topic was even more sensitive, to her at least, than treason or statecraft. "What about the object we found in the cart in the desert?"

Moss' confusion melted away. "Oh, that. I've already spoken to Father about it. He's agreed to look after it while we're away. He anticipated that one or both of us would be leaving. He's a lot brighter than he lets on, actually. It's probably a politician thing."

"Will it be safe here, though? I mean Praska's not that far away from the front lines right now."

"It will be. He may not have been the best father, but he's always been diligent, attentive and driven. He agreed with me that we should keep it secret from everybody for now. We can always change that if or when we get back. Or you could send for it in a few years. It all depends on what happens."

Char felt a bit of relief at that. One less thing to worry about, but a particularly important thing in this case. "So you're really doing this thing, then?"

He paused for a moment. "I am. I have to. But you knew that already, the moment you told me about what your people discovered."

"Moss, if this is your idea of redemption, there have to be other ways." She wasn't exactly sure what those other ways would be, but there had to be some. Somewhere.

"It isn't. Like I said back in Hightop, there is no redemption for what I've done. I'm making this trip because it's the right thing to do. No other reason."

He said it with a sense of complete certainty. He meant every word. Char let out some frustration at that; at how likely he was to get himself killed in this crazed endeavor. Still, she had to admit he was brave, in his own damaged way. "All right. We have a few hours before Corerise. I have a few ideas about this water cart you're gonna need, and Allain sent what they know about the design your people are working on. Let's bounce ideas around, just like old times."

He sent out a trace of gratitude as they got started. Still, it was laced with bitterness. At what, she couldn't tell.

38

New Releases / Drive Part 44 added, 4/14/23

« Last post by Daen on April 14, 2023, 10:05:28 AM »

Drive Part 44 added, 4/14/23

39

Drive (ongoing story) / Part 44: The Price of War

« Last post by Daen on April 14, 2023, 10:04:50 AM »

There was a saying among some rural areas of the union: sapset. It meant that home was always where the sap set the easiest. For most treqars, it was a moot point, given that so few of them traveled. But Moss had. He'd traveled further than any treqar in history. Possibly any person anywhere. No, wait. Trejuns could fly, and had no doubt covered much greater distances.

Moss hoped that he could get into sapset here. He hoped that he hadn't changed too much to return to his old life in Grove Praska. Now that his task was complete and his nation saved, he might actually get that quiet life after all.

It was strange. It had barely been a year since he'd been in this very spot, secretly corresponding with Noq, and hoping to be a famous inventor known throughout the Union. Now his dreams had come true, and all he wanted to do was forget all about them and be that unknown country sapling again.

News of Moss' survival had spread like Streek Fire throughout the surviving Union groves. He'd only been back a day, and already he'd gotten several hundred messages from other groves. He didn't even bother examining most of them—sent by rabid fans, or just appreciative strangers. He did respond to one, which had come from Tobor's parents. He expressed his deep condolences over their loss, and told them, quite truthfully, that Tobor's work had helped save all of their lives. Even Rax, traitor though he had been, had helped them. And his family had died before he did.

The twins had no family on record, being military seedlings with an… unusual physical deformity. Aysa's family records had been destroyed years ago, to keep her safe from retaliation. There was no one left to contact.

Other than Char, of course.

She was rooted on the other side of the grove for now, no doubt being chatted up by the ever-gregarious Tressa. She had stayed behind like him, though she still wasn't speaking to him. Not that he could blame her. Twenty-three deaths were hovering over him like a cloud, and he doubted it would ever dissipate.

He had meant what he'd said, though. One grove's destruction and the resulting guilty conscience were a small price to pay for the survival of the Union and the sandkin. As far as he could tell, Char hadn't told anyone what he'd done. Or rather, what he'd allowed to happen.

They'd been alone together for several weeks. From the ashes of the Arbormass, to the ashes of Kulik, into the desert to Sharpcrag, across to Hightop, and then north again heading home. He'd grown accustomed to her company, and now he missed it. No matter how brutal and forced the circumstances had been.

Before the sandkin had continued north, they'd equipped both him and Char with those ring-shaped devices. He could sense qars all over Praska still fixated on him, even after he'd been here for a full day, wondering what it was, and what it did. His friends and family had been polite enough to not ask questions, when he'd first connected to greet everyone and explain things, but they had to be curious. The qars were their surreptitious attempt to gain information.

Reluctantly, Moss sent the enzyme commands, and the articulator limb on the ring began moving again. It reached down under his direction and connected him to Praskas network again. Several dozen minds flooded into his own, shattering the peaceful solitude he'd been trying to cultivate. No matter. He had to talk to them eventually anyway.

His father was the first to 'approach' within the network, with the others still hanging back. "How are you doing, son?"

"Better, thank you. The soil here is much better than what we had in some places down south, and there's enough water that I'm healing nicely. I should have a full set of branches again in a season or so."

"I'm glad," his father responded, with emotions matching words. "Your friend Char has been catching us up on the new treaty. I could hardly believe it at first. Dozens of groves, all inside the Desolation? It's amazing!"

Moss sent out some assent. "I had the same reaction. They're a very hardy people. Still, they used the secrecy of their existence like bark for millennia. Now that their secret's out, I imagine they're feeling quite vulnerable. I suppose it's no surprise that they were quick to build the Qarier and other machines like it. They want to prove to everyone that they're not brittle and fragile."

"They certainly proved that to us," his father said with a subdued sense. "So many thunderers on that one machine, and dozens more smaller ones around it! I saw what just a twigful of thunderers could do in defending Praska."

"What has Char told you about the state of the Union?" Moss changed subjects abruptly, not wanting to think about his part in building all those weapons. "Or have you gotten news through the interroot about the course of the war?"

The old man hesitated. "I'm sure you know more than I do, what with you being an advisor on the negotiations and all. We did get confirmation about the casualties. The restrictions on the interroot have been lifted following the treaty with the sandkin. We're now sure: about a third of the Union has been destroyed. Grove Praska is now the westernmost settlement in the entire Union."

Moss had suspected as much, but it still felt like his heartwood was freezing, hearing it described like that. "But no more, right? Now we're pushing back."

"That's right. The Chancellery is still being evasive about the details, but our friends in other central—or now I should say western—groves, are all sending in their own perspectives. They all describe convoys like the one you came in on, pushing westward into areas destroyed by the trejuns. With the aid of the sandkin, our people are finally able to strike back against those flying monsters!"

Moss carefully held back his disappointment. His father was speaking truthfully, unlike his usual political persona. He'd come very close to being killed by the trejuns, and it was natural that he wanted them to pay for what they'd done. But he didn't know the fullness of what war did. Moss had only had a sample of that horror, and it had practically broken him. Those soldiers out there, controlling sandkin war machines and equipped with weapons capable of blasting enemies out of the sky, they probably felt vengeful and hateful—perhaps thousands of times worse than what his own father did!

Another presence tentatively approached. It was Rane. Moss let out a burst of appreciation at seeing his old friend. "Hey!"

"Hey, Moss. I wasn't sure I should interrupt, especially with you being Big Hero Guy and everything, but—”

"No, I'm glad you did," Moss responded immediately. "I'm sorry I was a bit too overwhelmed when I first got back, to greet you properly. How have you been?"

Rane seemed encouraged. "Pretty good, actually. I mean, having most of my qars confiscated wasn't exactly great, but the idea of our mobility being a real possibility… that's just unreal. Pardon the pun."

"Wait, your qars were confiscated?"

"Yeah, about two weeks ago. All of us are down to just eight qars apiece. All the others were taken off eastwards to help with the construction efforts. From what I've heard, pretty much every grove on this side of the Union is in the same situation."

Moss should have seen that coming. Regretfully, he thought over the reasons. Before the qar queens had been obliterated, personal use of qars was considered a universal right. Afterwards, with qars now being reduced to a doomed species, it made perfect sense that the Chancellery and military would take more and more to fill their ranks as their own died off.

This was a sticky situation for him, actually. Back in Hightop, after the vote had gone his way, the sandkin had held days of meetings, nonstop, over their interroot. All the details for the expedition to meet the Union were planned out, with Moss being less of an advisor and spectator, and more of a pawn and tool. After all, he was just one, and they were many. One of the things they'd expected of him—insisted on, really—was that he keep the existence of their qar queens a secret. As such, when the Qarier had come to a stop next to grove Praska, and he and Char had been planted here, it had been done without any qar labor at all.

It made sense in retrospect. One of the big reasons the trejuns had been so effective in wiping out the qar queens here in the Union, was because they weren't being hidden. The species might still be doomed: he had no idea if only five qar queens could rebuild a population that had once numbered in the millions. Still, at least this way there was a chance. He kept the secret gladly.

Rane went on about local gossip for a little longer, still sending out signs of his disquiet. Apparently getting the message, Moss' father excused himself. "I'll let you two chat for a while," he said quickly, and withdrew his presence over to where Char and the others were gathered.

Rane let out some relief at that. He'd never really been comfortable around the old man. Possibly because Moss' father was so formal and serious, and Rane was at his heartwood a relaxed country seedling. "So you've traveled more than anyone I've ever heard of!" He said excitedly afterwards. "You must have experienced some incredible things!"

"You could say that," Moss responded, bemused. "But Char's traveled more than me, just so you know."

"No kidding. I heard her talking this morning and last night. The stories she tells, about the sandkin living all the way down there in the Desolation, are amazing! Most of us didn't believe her at first, not until she shared some of her memories of the desert groves. Oases, I guess I should call them. I only hope I can find stuff half as interesting when I head out."

Moss paused. "What are you talking about? Where are you going?"

His friend let out some surprise, and then followed it with realization. "Oh, right. You wouldn't have heard, because you haven't been connected since yesterday. This morning an announcement came in through the interroot from grove Heirach. The Chancellor and Council of Ministers are calling for volunteers to fight in the war. Now that we can build carts and move thunderers around, they need people to control them. I'm sending in my application today. I'm going to be a soldier! At least three others are doing the same, as far as I can tell. It would be more, but they're only taking saplings for now because we're the only ones light enough to get around."

Moss felt a freeze creep in, deep inside himself. Rane, out in the field, risking his life? Killing people?

He tried to moderate his response, and keep his shock and disgust from leaking out. Fortunately Rane didn't seem to have noticed. "Rane, are you sure that's a good idea? I mean, you're one of the gentlest people I know. You didn't even send your qars out to work on the aqueduct with the others, because you were afraid they'd get hurt! You kept them close to yourself, tending the people in the grove, because it was safer."

Rane responded with a burst of confidence. "I can do it, Moss. Trust me. I've got what it takes to be a good soldier for the Union, like you. I'll make you proud, and I'll be proud of myself, too."

"But… I'm not a soldier, Rane. I never was. Sure, I designed the weapons, and used them when I had to. But only because I had to. If you do this, it will change you. Even if you survive to come home again, you won't be the same. Are you prepared for that?"

His friend paused, and his sense was one of confusion and hurt. "What are you talking about? You're a hero to the Union! You may have saved all of us from being destroyed! I just want to do my own part to protect my people, like you did."

"I did what I thought I had to, but even now I'm still not sure it was necessary. Even if it was, it definitely wasn't right or good. Killing is bad, no matter why you do it, Rane. I… don't want you to make the same mistakes I did. I'll have to live with them, and you shouldn't have to do the same." His actions in Sharpcrag came flooding back into him, and the personalities of those sandkin flitted through him once again. All the people he'd sentenced to death.

He tried to focus on the matter at hand. "I understand your desire to explore, I really do. Even without the war I would have wanted to experience new things. Even knowing that I probably would die, traveling into the Desolation was a wonderous thing for me. But you don't have to become a soldier to do it. I'll make a cart for you. Two, if you want me to come along. We can travel the Union together, or go south into sandkin territory if you want. Anywhere, as long as it's away from the fighting."

Rane seemed subdued at that, as if the ground had been taken away from underneath him. His initial hurt and indignation at Moss' reaction had been replaced with shock and surprise.

Moss supposed it was only natural. For seasons now his friend had been stuck here, hoping against hope that the Union would be able to hold off the trejun attacks, and helpless to act in any way. Now they had mobility and the means to strike back. Unsurprisingly, Chancellor Esta had taken that fear, and the sudden freedom that followed it, and used it as a tool to generate patriotism. 'Yes, defend yourselves against the trejuns,' she might say, 'but do it as part of the Union's forces. If they're bad, and we know that they are, then we must be good. If they're wrong, then we must be right.' Unfortunately, it was just a very short distance away from, 'if them killing us is evil, then us killing them is not evil.'

She'd taken advantage of the fear and frustration to recruit young people, probably all over the Union. Not just to defend these people, and perhaps not even primarily because of that. No, this was to solidify the Union's power and authority. And by extension, hers.

"Please, Rane. Don't send off that application just yet. Think about what being a soldier will be like, and why you want to be one. Think about my alternative. You've always been kind and considerate, and I like the person you are. I don't want that person to change."

40

New Releases / Drive Part 43 added, 4/7/23

« Last post by Daen on April 07, 2023, 05:07:18 AM »

Drive Part 43 added, 4/7/23