Work in Progress II

Pontiffs were rare because the laws of the Colonies explicitly forbade collecting all the Fahuns in one ship unless the situation was so extreme that it warranted the risk. No one knew what exactly the risk was of course, like so many other things that their ancestors had believed would never be forgotten; the reason it was dangerous for the Fahuns to be on the same ship was never explained. Nevertheless the rules had to be followed. It was crucial to their survival; they knew so little about where they were going or what was keeping them alive that every rule, no matter how strange or mystifying, was followed exactly.

Jian stood in the meeting room, waiting for the other Fahuns to join him. The New Hope was designed to be the political centre of the fleet, like the capital city of a country, and as such was the designated space for high policy meetings. This meeting room was specifically designed for pontiffs, which had always seemed strange to Jian, to design a room for meetings that shouldn’t happen. And what a room it was. A perfect circle, embracing a beautiful, old, round wooden table at its centre, soothingly illuminated and like all rooms on all the ships the walls were covered with intricate carvings and murals depicting vivid scenes of long forgotten Terran history. The murals in this room were particularly beautiful, their colours brighter, the scenes more evocative and more disturbing. There was one in particular that Jian loved, tucked away in a corner, he used to run away from the training classes when he had been a child and curl up in front of the mural, completely entranced. No one had ever found him, except Bannon. And she had kept his secret.

Her low musical laugh jolted him out of his reverie and he turned around to see Bannon regarding him with amusement.

“I’m having a flashback to training,” she told him as she walked in and sat down at her place at the table, “what is it about this particular painting you love so much?”

“I don’t think I love it Fahun Bannon, I just… It’s important. I don’t know why,” he continued quickly seeing Bannon open her mouth out of the corner of his eye, “I just know it is.”

Fahun Kirja swept into the room as he spoke and favoured them both with a broad, mischievous grin. “A pontiff Fahun Jian, I’m so terribly excited!” Kirja dropped into the chair designated for the Fahun of the White Feather and laid a thick stack of books on the table in front of her. Jian eyed them nervously; it was always worrying when Kirja brought books to a meeting. It usually meant the meeting was not going to be a short one, though considering the complete lack of information on the topic before them, Jian decided he was glad to see the books after all.

Kirja’s entrance was closely followed by that of Fahun Korov, and his expression as he saw the books was equally comical, a mix of dismay and envy. “How,” he asked without preamble, “did you find so many books about this mess? The Ek Tara libraries mention nothing about these blaring alarms.” He dropped into his seat, glaring resentfully at the pile of books, as if each one had just personally insulted him.

Kirja immediately launched into an elaborate explanation which included several slights against the Ek Tara and its libraries, but was mostly a list of reasons why the work it did was less important than that done on the White Feather. It was an old argument amongst old friends, and Korov joined in with great enthusiasm. The other Fahuns had learned as children that Kirja and Korov loved to argue about minutiae, had put it down to their love and devotion to their respective sciences, and taken a group decision to remain uninvolved in every way. Except to share looks of amusement with each other whenever one of these arguments broke out. Jian and Bannon caught each others eye, and then looked towards the doors for Fahun Maneyr, who was leaning against the frame, his eyes brimming with laughter. The three of them grinned at each other, remembering a time when these fights were more frequent and becoming Fahun was part of a distant someday that didn’t need too much thought. Then the alarms in the corridors came to red, blaring life and the moment was gone.  

Jian cleared his throat in the sudden silence, and instantly the mood turned sombre. Maneyr took his place at the table, gaped in horror at the pile of books in front of Kirja, who smacked him lightly in response, and then hurriedly returned his attention to Jian, who was watching them all intently. It had after all been a long time since they had met in person. Once they had been sworn in as Fahuns of their own ships, there was almost never a reason for them to leave. They spoke everyday, over Holo, exchanging news and updating each other about any problems or developments. There was a lot of traffic between ships of course, but it rarely required the involvement of the Fahun and unnecessary visits had always been discouraged. It had been a difficult change. They had all grown up together, had seen each other for large parts of every day until the moment they assumed their positions. It was like meeting very familiar strangers.

Jian took his place at the table. Though the table was round (indicating equality amongst the Fahuns they were taught) Jian’s place was indubitably at its ‘head’, his chair subtly larger and set in the centre of a pool of light designed to ensure that all eyes were on him. It had always made him uncomfortable, the expectation in the eyes that always watched him, he was always aware of the responsibility that was his, and had been his since he was born. He wasn’t just a Fahun; he was the Sar Fahun, leader of the fleet and responsible for each and every living thing on his ships. He had to lead his people to safety, but he was as lost as they were.

Bannon smiled at him, picking up on his sudden nervousness, and he smiled back, relaxing just as suddenly. “So,” he began casually, “how’s everyone been sleeping?”

They all groaned, Korov attempted to throw one of Kirja’s books at him, resulting in a brief scuffle, but they were all friends once again, not just Fahuns, and Jian voiced the question that had occurred to all of them at some point in the last four months.

“Have we reached it? The place that is safe? Are we there?”

Winter

You've left
And I'm lost without you

One street away
From everyone else
Still talking to you
In my head

You've left
And I can't bear life here,
Without you.

About The Night Before Last

The truth, I know
Hasn't lost its appeal,
But the things
That we said
Mean nothing more
Than those we didn't think
To invent.
Yet.

You go back,
And I do too.
Being who we want
To be known as,
Our people faces
Unchanged.
And with each other,
More than ever.

So you keep your distance
Close around you,
And you feel safe once again.
And I wear my pain
Like armour,
Against feeling nothing.
Agendas complete
We can finally

Walk away.

I Breathe In

And the sadness
That I feel
Burns through my gloves
The soles of my boots
I leave behind ashes
Standing too still
Thinking of you

(There's a wooded path
That we should have taken
Where leaves would crumble
Beneath our feet
And it would be cold enough
To want to hold each other
Without feeling too close
Or being compelled to speak)

I breathe in
And you're gone
And the sadness that I feel
Burns through my gloves
And the soles of my boots
Collecting in ashes
On the side of the street
Where we said goodbye

(Work in progress)

There will be a place that is safe. We give to you and to your children who were the best of us all; we give to you this task. You must find this place, and you must live. You must live for those who were left behind. You must live for those who couldn’t. You must survive.

-Engraved above the entrance
to the bridge of the New Hope,
circa 3000 AD


Red lights screamed along the walls of a residential complex, jolting its occupants to sudden, disoriented wakefulness. The alarms had been ringing with increasing frequency over the last few months, and most people went back to sleep with only a few grumbles, living aboard an enormous intergalactic spaceship people learned to tune things out All that is except Jian Fahun-Pershan. But then Jian knew more about the alarms than the average citizen on board the New Hope. Though saying he knew more was deceptive, the truth was no one knew why the alarms were ringing, and the fact that they were ringing more often didn’t bode well with any of the colony council members. The truth had been kept from the population at large because there was no sense in creating panic; they had been told it was a minor misfunction with the PA system. Everything had been running smoothly for so long that no one expected any surprises. Most had forgotten that they had a purpose for being on the ship, had forgotten that they had been chosen for very specific reasons. Jian couldn’t blame them though. So much had happened. And more importantly, so much hadn’t.

Knowing he wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep Jian dressed and left his room for the Bridge. Even at the late hour the hallways weren’t empty. He returned nods and greetings, moving quickly so that no one would suck him into a conversation. Rarely social at the best of times, Jian preferred to make as few casual conversations as possible. And now, with his mind troubled, he was practically unapproachable. Banna often told him that he was living life as a thunder cloud must have, he thought with an inner smile as he watched a group of fifteen year old ensigns scatter at his approach. He liked being unapproachable. It kept a lot of idiots out of his way.

The elevator doors pinged open at the Bridge and as always Jian paused to admire the magnificence of the scene before him. The bridge doors were close to twenty feet high, and covered with carvings of all manner of elaborate creatures, many of whom Jian recognised from his lessons in Earth history, but many more that those lessons had not included. Humans shared some of the scenes with the animals, but there were no carvings of ships or anything else even vaguely related to technology or machines. For what must have been the millionth time he wondered why his ancestors, who had built the colony fleet and the all the marvellous technology that the fleet survived on, had not wanted to honour that technology on the immense carvings that decorated the bridge doors. His eyes left the doors and flicked briefly over the words engraved above the doors. Thanks to the computers and the educational programs that had been left behind, Jian and everyone else in the fleet could still read English, though the engraving was so vague no one knew what it meant. Oh roughly they could guess, but there were no details in those words, no explanation, no clue as to what that enigmatic message could mean.
“Why did you send us?” he thought at the engraving, and where is this place you promised?”

As usual there was no response. After a brief moment of foolish hope, Jian walked onto the bridge. Opia Lai-Hariff, the second in command stood at the main console, her dark chocolaty skin reflecting the charts and readings that she was examining closely. She was dressed in her starship uniform; the pale gold jacket and black trousers neatly pressed and turned out. Jian grinned in amusement; Opia took decorum very seriously and wouldn’t think of relaxing even during the late cycle shift, just in case the Fahun dropped in for a surprise check.

“Opia, what’s going on?” Jian asked wearily as he sank into the chair.
“I don’t know Fahun,” she responded, just as wearily, “the alarms just started of without any decipherable reason.”
“The other Colonies?
“Yes Fahun, they too have reported alarms, at exactly the same time as ours went off.”
“Fantastic. Our ancestors left us a warning, for something, but didn’t bother to tell us what for. Fantastic.” Jian scowled at the main clear, which was showing the black emptiness that it usually did. “Get me Fahun Bannon, I’m sure she’s awake.” He glared at Opia as he said it, awaiting the smirk that usually followed when he mentioned Banna, but Opia was too professional to as much as blink.

The blue light on the arm of the Chair blinked and Bannon’s low, clear voice filled the room, “Kisadh Fahun Jian, what’s kept you up so late in a cycle?”

“The red blaring messengers our ancestors left us, without a blaring message Fahun Bannon,” Jian added conversationally, “And you? Not bad dreams I hope?”

Fahun Bannon laughed, drawing an unwilling smile from Jian. She had that kind of laugh, un-ignorable. “But seriously Banna, we have to know why” Jian leaned closer to the arm panel, “I think we need to call pontiff.”

There was a moment of silence; Jian could almost see Bannon exchange looks with Lai-Corisa, rolling a lock of her dark hair between her fingers as she often did when she was thinking. He missed her when she was on the Eden, which was almost always. They barely saw each other, but that hadn’t lessened the bond between them at all. Jian was always profoundly aware that she was almost with him. It was usually a comforting thought.

“You’re right Jian. Call pontiff.”

The connection ended and Jian was sure that she knew something she hadn’t said out loud.

“Lai-Opia, inform the other ships. It is pontiff. An hour.”

Jian left the bridge and the made his way back to his rooms. His Fahun uniform was stiff and smelled like the cleaning disinfectants used in the ship laundry. It had been a long time since he had worn it. Infact he had only worn it twice since he had become Fahun of the New Hope. The first time on the day of his induction, the next on the day that Kihan Raishul had died. And now, the third, on the day of the first pontiff in four hundred year-cycles.

I Walk These Streets

Do you watch for me,
Out of the corner of your eye
Calculating the odds
Of my walking in
To a place I never went to
Without you

Do you make lists in your head
Of all the things
You would like to tell me
If things had been different
And you and I
Still closed our day together

Do you wake up from dreaming
That my hands
Were on your skin again
Your face against my shoulder
And you no longer had to regret
The kisses that never happened

Or is it just me.

Change the Needle LP

I meant what I said
When I said goodbye
I opened the walls of my heart
and I set you free

I went through the motions
Of missing you
But the music inside me
Was anything but sad

So we danced like old lovers
And we talked like old friends
And we closed our eyes
To rest against each other

And the dawn came slowly
But when I opened my eyes
The music inside me
Was singing with your voice.