Title: Cycles Of Slavery

By: JLT

Rating: PG, for a smidge of violence

Archive: The Wonderful World of MakeBelieve; anyone else, please ask. (I like to know where my baby is going.)

Like I said, this was inspired at a AN panel at MediaWest several years ago. I tried to borrow tone and rhythm from the novel 'Day of Descent'.

White clouds swirled around Gelana as she moved slowly through the corridor to her resting platform. Her legs were almost too heavy to lift, but she kept moving because her platform was still two creches away. She did not want an Overseer to come across her collapsed on the floor, too many of the cargo were sick, and the Overseers would be just as likely to put her into a vat as take her to the infirmary.

Besides, after the events of this day, the infirmary where she worked was the last place she wanted to be right now.

The Overseers were lenient in allowing Elders to come and speak to the sick. They assumed that the Blessings of Celine and Andarko were the only things spoken of during the visits. The Overseers were painfully wrong.

It seemed almost cruel of the Elders to repeat tales of a time when the Tenctonenese were free. There was no freedom now, nor would there be for generations to come. Gelana had decided that the Celinists were wrong. Mnoum/’, the One Who Was All, had decreed there would be no hope for the Tenctoneese. Gelana had tried to convince herself she was more content without the hope.

The Celinist Elder had come to Gelana’s work space today, ostensibly to give her Andarko’s Blessing for Those Who Healed. She had not been able to raise her eyes to meet his.

"There is despair in your hearts, child," the Elder commented too quietly for the guard to overhear. "Trust in Celine and Andarko. Just as they overcame the darkness that engulfed our people, we too shall follow in their path. Let trust take root in your hearts, and more importantly, hope."

"Celine did not see the needless deaths, nor Andarko the suffering that I have witnessed," Gelana responded bitterly. "And you know that I do not come from a Line of Celinists."

Nodding slowly, the Elder lifted his hand to the side of her head. "Celine sees all, even for those who follow another path of our people. You must believe that the pain and death of your loved ones will come to bring meaning at the right time."

"Ripping apart families can never have any meaning, save that of pain." Gelana turned away so the Elder could not continue to touch her temple. "And a lost mate can never be retrieved," she whispered.

"Child, open your hearts to those around you. They too have suffered, and our people need to hold close together."

"Please, just go," Gelana pleaded desperately.

"Our people will be free," the Elder insisted. "Those who have been free, cannot live in slavery. Tenctoneese will find a way to loose our bonds of the Overseers and this slavery! We will work and play and be with our families in freedom! Child, you must believe!"

The Overseer moved closer to them, noticing the Elder was taking too long for the Blessing. However, the Elder sensed her approach and moved towards her, holding his hands out to her. "My child, may Celine and Andarko guide and watch over you."

"Crazy old one!" the Overseer hissed. "You are good for nothing but the vats!" Her Rod of Obedience lashed out and struck the old man in the head.

Electrical volts danced down his spots to embrace the Elder beneath his robes. His body was held stiffly in an obscene parody of the erect stance Overseers used to instill respect, then crumpled and fell to the floor with a wet thump.

Ignoring the stares of the shocked cargo around her, the Overseer imperiously turned to Gelana. "Remove the excess cargo from my sight. Then return to your work."

Hands shaking, Gelana moved to obey the other woman. As she lifted the body of the still twitching Elder, smoke rose from the burn on his forehead, blinding her and causing her to cough slightly.

"Is there a problem, cargo?"

Eyes firmly focused on the floor, Gelana shook her head and began dragging the body of the Elder to the vat of salt water that stood in one corner of the room. Watching his body dissolve in the acidic liquid, Gelana was surprised to feel the existence of tiny flames of hope within her hearts, even as they flickered and died.

The rest of her shift passed in an exhausting blur. The sick cargo continued to pour into the infirmary and the Overseer barely allowed enough time with each patient before jabbing Gelana to move her along. Her rounds brought her into contact with several more Elders, each of them talking urgently to the sick males, binnaums and females. Speaking eloquently of happier times, when every Tenctoneese lived in freedom with their families and friends. Each overheard word drove into Gelana, making her work a torture worse than any Overseer could devise. Although she tried to avoid those patients being visited by Elders, the Obedience Rods were never far, and pushed Gelana into conversations that made her remember too much.

Although her platform and sleep were not usually desirable, the grueling day she had just endured, and her exhaustion made them her only option. Slowly pulling herself onto the third platform up, she bit back a moan as her shoulders protested the strain.

Lying on her back, she tried to block out each painful moment of the day, to meditate and regain her center, the goal of her own spiritual beliefs. Of course, it could not work. She had seen nothing good or peaceful for too long, there was no image to replace the evil.

Too tired to even continue the mental battle, Gelana surrendered her struggle and closed her eyes. Faces of people she had cared for and lost began to torture her. She could not stop the onslaught and resigned herself to relive the horrors of their disappearances and deaths at Overseers’ hands. And then, the final, most painful image came. Her lips parted to whisper, as if in prayer, "Matt.

=30=