Post by Deleted on Aug 29, 2019 3:57:11 GMT
Ulla cast her stormy gaze upon Kulomar. They'd known each other long enough he remembered her eyes were once green before the mark took her. He remembered how beautiful the lines of her face were when they were soft. Currently they were tight with ire.
“Our sietch has many good men, many strong men, many capable men, but you are the only father of my children Kulomar”, she sat the tea service between them on the low rock table of their dwelling.
“There are fewer than you think. Council has proven that of late”, his brows knitted to match her own in their consternation.
“And that makes it okay to forfeit your life? You are so eager to see action against the off worlder you'd give them your water?!” she nearly shrieked.
He rose from his seated position, “I give them the oil soaked rags which will burn them asunder.”
“That is fine”, she said placing her hands on his wrists and rising them to her lips, “but must you be wearing them when you do so?!”
He drew her into his embrace closer, with a deep kiss, “I do this so our sons will be in a world that much closer to freedom from those who would exploit us.”
“I would prefer you were alive”, she said with no small measure of bitterness in her voice, the coffee she poured steamed hot and framed her face's tension in a halo.
“There was once a time we would both prefer freedom”, came his reply over the top of his cup.
Her eyes locked with his. There was no resolution. Two immovable forces were involved which was no way to go about this. No middle ground existed between living or dead which would satisfy either, in this dispute one side would have to win out over the other. Ulla finished her coffee in silence and then kissed Kulomar once more.
“You are a damned fool, and you were my damned fool a fact our children shall know at extent”, quiet somber words were filled with an ache they both felt and which zeal for one's cause could not quench.
“I am still your damned fool”, he said finishing his own drink and setting the cup aside.
He drew her close, hand parting her thin dress and running up her thigh. She took a step away.
“No. You may have your way and forfeit your life but you will not go with my favor to it”, there was a hard set to her eyes, were they in another place at another time her eyes may have glistened with tears, yet her water discipline was too concrete to ever allow so grievous a lapse.
He sighed and kissed her forehead instead walking from their dwelling. It pained him she couldn't see Shai'Hulud's vision with the clarity he did, hurt him to part under such terms, wounded him to leave without even being able to give the same parting love to their children he'd been able to spare her. Resolve like talent was unevenly distributed among Shai'Hulud's people. Kulomar had said and done all he could.
Dusk broke like a groggy murmur from one rising out of a deep sleep. The torpor imposed by the harshness of the twin suns was ebbing and with it life was crawling from all the deep crevices in which it ensconced itself while the sands and stones baked of the day. Water sellers were the first out with the loud SOO SOO SOOK call reverberating from edifice natural and man-made alike. Off-world, pan, and graben came to life slow at first and then suddenly the markets and streets were alive with activity.
On a copse of rock just beyond the outer range of the G.S.R Kulomar ibn'Fayil Ubaya stood with his back to Arrakeen which was shaking off the cobwebs of daytime slumber for night time life. The chronometer on his wrist ticked over another moment as he watched the fluid motion through the oil lenses.
“Every 97 minutes one of their flying monstrosities comes in from Atalmalash Bled, refuels, and returns to its duty”, he said to the form who stood beside him with lenses of a similar make fixed on the mid distance.
The Chakobsa reply which met Kulomar was of a reedier quality almost nasal in its delivery and its cadence irregular, “I have assembled the band you asked for.”
Kulomar's companion handed over 7 triangular glyphs on ropes of pounded spice fiber. 2 of Rafiq, 2 of Samir, Cave of the Birds, Two Tribe Sietch, and Talyn Rock. Kulomar added his own and that of his companions to the hand full of trinkets. From within his jubba cloak he drew a small bag which the pendants found new home in. Kulomar moved them about his hand for a moment looking toward the distance.
“Our quorum is formed”, the Fremen holding the pendants murmured.
He cast the pendants into breeze and let the sands take them moments later. Turning to his companion the two slipped from their position and into the bled. Their path across the sands seemed random by necessity to keep the wild worm and Ginaz patrols off their scent. On the slightest piece of rock which appeared as though it would surrender to the churning winds any moment their companions were half buried in the gravel. They emerged ready, primed for action. Fremkits were packed back up and sand shaken from cloak and stillsuit alike.
From the assembled warriors a man with skin dark as burned ash and eyes which glowed the unnatural blue of spice saturation nodded toward the horizon. Kulomar nodded and no other motion was needed. Any among them who may have thought there was planning or preparation yet to be done would be sorely mistaken. Thumps, rhythmic in nature began several steps away from them. The enormity of the task held the men in silence, their voices stolen by the weight of history pressing upon them.
All the weighted, enormous silence of the Fremen had not translated across the bled to the Arrakeen Regional Refueling Center 4 or ARC 4. ARC 4 was just the same as its six sisters and helped to keep the harvester, carryall, ornithopter, and frigates in constant motion around the clock as necessity demanded. While looked down on by the right and left alike for being a confederacy of island delegates Ginaz had drained much solari, melange, and good will from the sand planet. One sign of good will was the very public, recent recruitment of a full battalion of troops from among the natives of Arrakis willing to pledge themselves to Ginaz so long as it was in defense of their homes.
At the western observation gate one of the native recruits and a man born and raised of Ginaz stood side by side in uniform emblazoned with the open blade insignia of their masters. Both men were of a sepia complexions come about in far different environs.
“You... are from... Ginaz?” the native's Galach was ponderous but understandable and with accent than one might expect.
He nodded, “From the island of Crystum Dragonus. I am Laris”
He offered a hand.
The native took it and then spat on the ground before him, “I am Ukedu of the graben near the Imperial Basin. I offer you water as a sign of respect.”
Laris recoiled slightly but less so than the first time he'd seen the native gesture. He forced a nod understanding what it meant and trying to not judge.
“Is this assignment... ah... exciting?” Ukedu mused to his companion while his eyes swept the sands on the horizon.
The two men walked the length of the wall as the Ginazi replied, “Not at all. Been here 2 standard years and haven't seen anything worse than smugglers lost in the sand the whole time.”
“Winds tell us things, or that's what our grandmother's say. These winds sound... angry”, Ukedu looked around them and indicating the fine mist of sand in the air.
“My gut feels uneasy too”, he checked his chronometer and smirked, “but there's only two more flights today before we're off for the night.”
Ukedu shook his head, “I do not understand your love of...”
DING. The sound systems made their loud peal to announce a news update, the likes of which came every three hours. A voice far away and soothingly feminine began her report.
“Good evening warriors of Ginaz! This is the Voice of the Islands: Arrakis. Command has declared today's threat level as moderate. Governor-General Mazima has declared two more security battalions will be raised from among the populace of the pan and graben given the success of the first recruitment...”
“I wish she'd get to the sparring league results. The late edition is the only one with the final scores”, Laris hissed impatiently while the voice from the speakers continued unaware.
“Laris!”, Ukedu grabbed the other guard and directed him toward the desert.
Just as the sparring league results began explosions rippled along the outer expanse of the refueling station's defenses. A storm was closing on them in the literal sense and among the increasing winds were what seemed like phantoms. Ukedu was cut down before he could he even dash for the stairs. Laris did not fare much better. He, at least, had his blade drawn when a crysknife cut the chord of his life in twain.
Kulomar and his men swarmed across the breach in the western approach and onto the tarmac. They overcame the hapless men and women who had been refueling the massive craft for its final runs of the day. Up the personnel ramp and Kulomar alone was in the cabin. He made short work of the surprised men and women who manned the many stations. From a maintenance stand point running a carryall with just a pilot was a horrible idea and would damage many systems. From the standpoint of a Fremen zealot with a very specific plan it was ideal.
“Go with Shai'Hulud”, his friend said from the cusp of the personnel ramp before patting the side of the vessel with a thud of his hand.
Unweidly in the utmost, akin to a flying oxen, learning to fly the carryall had been the most difficult stage of this plan to achieve. His knowledge wasn't perfect and ad hoc but confidence and the inescapable press of plans already in motion kept him going forward. Engines grumbled, and rumbled shaking the whole of the frame until lift happened slowly at first and then all at once. In the air Kulomar turned his attention inward and streaked over the pan and graben. With the journey to his chosen target short the reason for the specific station they'd chosen became more clear. From here destiny awaited.
“Falcon 9-6 you are overdue for your check in with Harvester 2-3. Reply”, the radio crackled on.
Kulomar angled the controls toward the north subtly as he cleared the tops of the mountains which kept the pan from the rocky haves who lived on the archipelago. Going higher up he arced into a cloud bank and saw both suns clearer than he'd ever seen them before. In this moment the warrior of the deserts felt at one with his cause and at peace with his imminent demise.
“Repeat, Falcon 9-6 reply or ornithopters will be scrambled to...”, the message had no chance to finish.
Alarms and warnings sounded all over the carryall. Altitude and orientation monitors knew something was deathly wrong. Instead of correcting course Kulomar pressed the dive steeper and impacted with the top parapet of the Palace before crashing into its main dome. This second impact caused enough damage for the full fuel tanks to spill out and seconds later to find a spark of ignition. Gentry and guard, freeman and servile alike lay wounded or dying as fires spread along the rich tapestries and lush interiors.
As the night took over in full Arrakeen had all the flickering, glowing light it could ask for from the demise of the Ginaz power on Arrakis. Little did Kulomar know, little did anyone know, this was the first domino toppled in a game that would end with the destruction of all anyone on hundreds of worlds had ever known.
“Our sietch has many good men, many strong men, many capable men, but you are the only father of my children Kulomar”, she sat the tea service between them on the low rock table of their dwelling.
“There are fewer than you think. Council has proven that of late”, his brows knitted to match her own in their consternation.
“And that makes it okay to forfeit your life? You are so eager to see action against the off worlder you'd give them your water?!” she nearly shrieked.
He rose from his seated position, “I give them the oil soaked rags which will burn them asunder.”
“That is fine”, she said placing her hands on his wrists and rising them to her lips, “but must you be wearing them when you do so?!”
He drew her into his embrace closer, with a deep kiss, “I do this so our sons will be in a world that much closer to freedom from those who would exploit us.”
“I would prefer you were alive”, she said with no small measure of bitterness in her voice, the coffee she poured steamed hot and framed her face's tension in a halo.
“There was once a time we would both prefer freedom”, came his reply over the top of his cup.
Her eyes locked with his. There was no resolution. Two immovable forces were involved which was no way to go about this. No middle ground existed between living or dead which would satisfy either, in this dispute one side would have to win out over the other. Ulla finished her coffee in silence and then kissed Kulomar once more.
“You are a damned fool, and you were my damned fool a fact our children shall know at extent”, quiet somber words were filled with an ache they both felt and which zeal for one's cause could not quench.
“I am still your damned fool”, he said finishing his own drink and setting the cup aside.
He drew her close, hand parting her thin dress and running up her thigh. She took a step away.
“No. You may have your way and forfeit your life but you will not go with my favor to it”, there was a hard set to her eyes, were they in another place at another time her eyes may have glistened with tears, yet her water discipline was too concrete to ever allow so grievous a lapse.
He sighed and kissed her forehead instead walking from their dwelling. It pained him she couldn't see Shai'Hulud's vision with the clarity he did, hurt him to part under such terms, wounded him to leave without even being able to give the same parting love to their children he'd been able to spare her. Resolve like talent was unevenly distributed among Shai'Hulud's people. Kulomar had said and done all he could.
Dusk broke like a groggy murmur from one rising out of a deep sleep. The torpor imposed by the harshness of the twin suns was ebbing and with it life was crawling from all the deep crevices in which it ensconced itself while the sands and stones baked of the day. Water sellers were the first out with the loud SOO SOO SOOK call reverberating from edifice natural and man-made alike. Off-world, pan, and graben came to life slow at first and then suddenly the markets and streets were alive with activity.
On a copse of rock just beyond the outer range of the G.S.R Kulomar ibn'Fayil Ubaya stood with his back to Arrakeen which was shaking off the cobwebs of daytime slumber for night time life. The chronometer on his wrist ticked over another moment as he watched the fluid motion through the oil lenses.
“Every 97 minutes one of their flying monstrosities comes in from Atalmalash Bled, refuels, and returns to its duty”, he said to the form who stood beside him with lenses of a similar make fixed on the mid distance.
The Chakobsa reply which met Kulomar was of a reedier quality almost nasal in its delivery and its cadence irregular, “I have assembled the band you asked for.”
Kulomar's companion handed over 7 triangular glyphs on ropes of pounded spice fiber. 2 of Rafiq, 2 of Samir, Cave of the Birds, Two Tribe Sietch, and Talyn Rock. Kulomar added his own and that of his companions to the hand full of trinkets. From within his jubba cloak he drew a small bag which the pendants found new home in. Kulomar moved them about his hand for a moment looking toward the distance.
“Our quorum is formed”, the Fremen holding the pendants murmured.
He cast the pendants into breeze and let the sands take them moments later. Turning to his companion the two slipped from their position and into the bled. Their path across the sands seemed random by necessity to keep the wild worm and Ginaz patrols off their scent. On the slightest piece of rock which appeared as though it would surrender to the churning winds any moment their companions were half buried in the gravel. They emerged ready, primed for action. Fremkits were packed back up and sand shaken from cloak and stillsuit alike.
From the assembled warriors a man with skin dark as burned ash and eyes which glowed the unnatural blue of spice saturation nodded toward the horizon. Kulomar nodded and no other motion was needed. Any among them who may have thought there was planning or preparation yet to be done would be sorely mistaken. Thumps, rhythmic in nature began several steps away from them. The enormity of the task held the men in silence, their voices stolen by the weight of history pressing upon them.
All the weighted, enormous silence of the Fremen had not translated across the bled to the Arrakeen Regional Refueling Center 4 or ARC 4. ARC 4 was just the same as its six sisters and helped to keep the harvester, carryall, ornithopter, and frigates in constant motion around the clock as necessity demanded. While looked down on by the right and left alike for being a confederacy of island delegates Ginaz had drained much solari, melange, and good will from the sand planet. One sign of good will was the very public, recent recruitment of a full battalion of troops from among the natives of Arrakis willing to pledge themselves to Ginaz so long as it was in defense of their homes.
At the western observation gate one of the native recruits and a man born and raised of Ginaz stood side by side in uniform emblazoned with the open blade insignia of their masters. Both men were of a sepia complexions come about in far different environs.
“You... are from... Ginaz?” the native's Galach was ponderous but understandable and with accent than one might expect.
He nodded, “From the island of Crystum Dragonus. I am Laris”
He offered a hand.
The native took it and then spat on the ground before him, “I am Ukedu of the graben near the Imperial Basin. I offer you water as a sign of respect.”
Laris recoiled slightly but less so than the first time he'd seen the native gesture. He forced a nod understanding what it meant and trying to not judge.
“Is this assignment... ah... exciting?” Ukedu mused to his companion while his eyes swept the sands on the horizon.
The two men walked the length of the wall as the Ginazi replied, “Not at all. Been here 2 standard years and haven't seen anything worse than smugglers lost in the sand the whole time.”
“Winds tell us things, or that's what our grandmother's say. These winds sound... angry”, Ukedu looked around them and indicating the fine mist of sand in the air.
“My gut feels uneasy too”, he checked his chronometer and smirked, “but there's only two more flights today before we're off for the night.”
Ukedu shook his head, “I do not understand your love of...”
DING. The sound systems made their loud peal to announce a news update, the likes of which came every three hours. A voice far away and soothingly feminine began her report.
“Good evening warriors of Ginaz! This is the Voice of the Islands: Arrakis. Command has declared today's threat level as moderate. Governor-General Mazima has declared two more security battalions will be raised from among the populace of the pan and graben given the success of the first recruitment...”
“I wish she'd get to the sparring league results. The late edition is the only one with the final scores”, Laris hissed impatiently while the voice from the speakers continued unaware.
“Laris!”, Ukedu grabbed the other guard and directed him toward the desert.
Just as the sparring league results began explosions rippled along the outer expanse of the refueling station's defenses. A storm was closing on them in the literal sense and among the increasing winds were what seemed like phantoms. Ukedu was cut down before he could he even dash for the stairs. Laris did not fare much better. He, at least, had his blade drawn when a crysknife cut the chord of his life in twain.
Kulomar and his men swarmed across the breach in the western approach and onto the tarmac. They overcame the hapless men and women who had been refueling the massive craft for its final runs of the day. Up the personnel ramp and Kulomar alone was in the cabin. He made short work of the surprised men and women who manned the many stations. From a maintenance stand point running a carryall with just a pilot was a horrible idea and would damage many systems. From the standpoint of a Fremen zealot with a very specific plan it was ideal.
“Go with Shai'Hulud”, his friend said from the cusp of the personnel ramp before patting the side of the vessel with a thud of his hand.
Unweidly in the utmost, akin to a flying oxen, learning to fly the carryall had been the most difficult stage of this plan to achieve. His knowledge wasn't perfect and ad hoc but confidence and the inescapable press of plans already in motion kept him going forward. Engines grumbled, and rumbled shaking the whole of the frame until lift happened slowly at first and then all at once. In the air Kulomar turned his attention inward and streaked over the pan and graben. With the journey to his chosen target short the reason for the specific station they'd chosen became more clear. From here destiny awaited.
“Falcon 9-6 you are overdue for your check in with Harvester 2-3. Reply”, the radio crackled on.
Kulomar angled the controls toward the north subtly as he cleared the tops of the mountains which kept the pan from the rocky haves who lived on the archipelago. Going higher up he arced into a cloud bank and saw both suns clearer than he'd ever seen them before. In this moment the warrior of the deserts felt at one with his cause and at peace with his imminent demise.
“Repeat, Falcon 9-6 reply or ornithopters will be scrambled to...”, the message had no chance to finish.
Alarms and warnings sounded all over the carryall. Altitude and orientation monitors knew something was deathly wrong. Instead of correcting course Kulomar pressed the dive steeper and impacted with the top parapet of the Palace before crashing into its main dome. This second impact caused enough damage for the full fuel tanks to spill out and seconds later to find a spark of ignition. Gentry and guard, freeman and servile alike lay wounded or dying as fires spread along the rich tapestries and lush interiors.
As the night took over in full Arrakeen had all the flickering, glowing light it could ask for from the demise of the Ginaz power on Arrakis. Little did Kulomar know, little did anyone know, this was the first domino toppled in a game that would end with the destruction of all anyone on hundreds of worlds had ever known.