The Purlieu Experiment
Chapter 9
Copyright 2015 & 2021
Akira woke in the morning to find she was alone again. She sat up and noticed the fire was burning. He was around somewhere - hopefully finding something to eat. She stayed in the shelter, thinking about the animals last night. It was a good thing he was with her. Getting back home wasn't nearly as simple as she had thought it would be.
The morning was cool and a little foggy. The sound of footsteps announced his arrival before she saw him. He stopped, gazing at the mountains, probably thinking about his children. His conversation last night about Farasi came to mind. She had to agree with Farasi on one point. Donte did look and act like royalty - not the stuffy aristocratic kind, but the quality of generations of good breeding. As if that wasn’t enough, his physique was one of the best she had ever seen. He was a good-looking Mascot with an active mind. If Farasi had been watching him, he certainly would have noted that Donte was unusual. If he was in the market for a stud, he certainly need not have looked further. But Donte and Farasi's daughter were not animals to be bred as he saw fit. Why did Donte consent? If she hadn't detoured the conversation last night, he might have told her.
Donte turned and approached the fire, carrying something in his hands. As he approached, she jumped up in excitement, banging her head on the shelter. She winced and Donte rushed to her aid.
"Are you hurt?"
She winced again. "Mostly my pride. I saw those eggs and forgot everything else."
He smiled. "I thought maybe if we put them near the fire, they would cook. Hand me your bowl and I'll go get some water from the spring."
She traded him the bowl for the eggs and carefully laid them close to the hot coals. Using a stick, she kept turning them until he returned.
"I think they are probably cooked by now. I hope we don’t find embryos in them."
His expression was sober, but his eyes expressed humor. "It would be more protein."
She made a face. "You first."
He cracked an egg open and found it fresh and cooked. "Whew! I'm the lucky one. I guess yours is the rotten one."
Her stomach lurched. "Eew!"
He smiled and handed the good egg to her. "I'll eat the other one. You can watch if you want."
She grabbed the egg he handed her and sat on the log. "No thanks." But she did watch while he opened the other egg. It was also a good one. No doubt he knew that.
"Is the water level in the ravine going down at all?" She asked.
He nodded, waiting until he swallowed before speaking. "I think we'll be able to get across safely in a few hours."
She admired the scenery while she ate. The rain had turned the grass a vibrant green against the backdrop of the snow-capped mountains. Around them the land flowed in smooth rolling hills and valleys. The trees grew in clumps.
"This is really beautiful country," she said. "Not at all like the country the Nyumbani brought us through. Are you sure we are going in the right direction?"
He nodded. "I've never been here before, but according to the map they showed me and the information from the library about this area; we are going through Anialwch on the west side, near the sea. It's a shorter route than the one they took, and more populated." He glanced around. "It reminds me of Bosvrouwen, the colony where my grandmother lived before she exchanged vows with my grandfather - only there were more trees."
"You've seen a lot of places," she said.
"Yes, I've been fortunate. I enjoy traveling and exploring."
"Men can do that. Women have to stay at home."
"Unless they get captured," he amended without looking up.
Her tone turned sour. "Believe me, I'd rather stay home and be bored."
His gaze lifted to her face. "You have no children…no mate?"
Why did men think that children and a mate were entertainment? She made a face. "I was fortunate enough to avoid either."
For a moment he watched her, as if trying to determine if she was serious. "I don't think of children as misfortune, but rather as a blessing."
She met his gaze with a challenge, "But you consider a mate a misfortune?"
His smile was sad. "A good mate is the best fortune - if you can keep her."
"Your mate left you?"
He shook his head. "Liana and our children were murdered over six years ago by some of Farasi's raiders."
Heat rushed up her neck. Would she never learn to keep her mouth shut and simply listen? "I'm sorry. I didn't know."
They ate their food and drank the water in silence, interrupted only by the aves in the trees and the occasional snap of the fire when the flames reached a pocket of sap. After a while, he began talking in a quiet controlled voice.
"I was only seventeen when I exchanged vows with Liana. We had a child the second year - a little boy we named Bjorn. We were so proud. Dad was happy that we now had two fertile male Mascots in our colony. We had a little farm and we were happy together. Three years later, we were delighted to discover we were going to have another baby. Things were great until near the end. We started arguing a lot." He rubbed his face. "Not bad arguments, but little things. I think she was just tired and uncomfortable all the time, but I didn't understand. I wanted to get away from her that morning, so I went hunting." His voice became strained. "She asked me not to go."
His hands were over his face and she was certain he was trying to compose himself. Finally, he lowered his hands and cleared his throat. "They came and killed all of them…the Nyumbani." He concluded.
It seemed the Nyumbani had neither fear nor compassion for the other colonists.
"So, you felt the need to avenge their deaths."
He nodded. "Yes. Farasi approached me after our son was born. This time I was the one who had to find a politically correct way to say no. I explained that I believed in monogamy, but he said I didn't have to exchange vows with anyone. I tried to explain that it wasn't a matter of vows, but commitment. He didn't understand. He was set on an heir and it had to be mine - I had the heritage and the physical qualities he was looking for. I think he thought I should feel honored." His gaze fell on her. "I didn't. I felt like I was nothing more than quality livestock to him." He continued. "There were several attempts to capture me after that. I didn't tell Dad because I thought I was the only target and I didn't think they would hurt me. I didn't want Libertad to be drawn into a war over me and I was too ashamed to tell anyone what was happening. I don't know why it never occurred to me that they might come after our son." He was silent a moment. "They did, though." He related the story of the attack on his family. "Farasi thought when I agreed to go to his colony, it was because I was afraid. I didn't care what he thought. I thought that was the easiest way to find the killers." He groaned. "I had no idea what I was getting into. I made it all about me and tied the hands of those who might help. I was in the colony and they dared not attack for fear that I would be killed. I wasn't permitted to leave until I produced a male heir."
He told her about watching the execution of the men who killed his mate and children. He was only twenty-two years old at the time, and yet he was not bitter toward the Nyumbani. It was amazing that he had waited six years to exterminate Farasi. And yet, he didn't see himself as a hero. He saw only his betrayals - first to his mate and children by leaving them alone; then to his colony and finally to the monster himself, Farasi.
"Did you love her…Halisi?"
He shrugged. "In a way, I suppose. I love my children." He gazed at the mountain. "I wonder what will happen to them now…if they will have enough to eat and if they will be safe. I wonder if they think I abandoned them."
"Children are resilient," she consoled him. "They will get over it."
He stood and stretched; still watching the mountains. "I never knew my mother and I didn't meet my twin sister until I went to the mountains when I was thirteen. My half-sisters and brothers spoiled me. I had a family life many would envy. I knew and appreciated it at the time. I wanted a family of my own. Twice I had that…" He was silent a moment. "I want my children to live and know love the way I did."
He spoke as though his life were over. He was still young. Unlike female Mascots, who had a childbearing life of 40-50 years, male Mascots could continue to reproduce for hundreds of years. Of course, there were no new Mascots being born in other colonies, so the youngest ones would have been born before the plague. That only left ten to twenty childbearing years at best and female Mascots could only conceive every three years. Gestation was twelve months. Who had decided to program women that way…men?
Much as she adored children, she had never met a man that she thought was worth the trouble. Now she had found one, but it was too late for her to have children. At that point it occurred to her why people were drawn to others outside their colony. Donte was nothing like the men in Lochfowk. His knowledge of so many different things was intriguing. She looked up at him.
"I'd like to see that airfield and that library…so many of the things you've seen."
His attention turned to her and he studied her face for a moment before responding. "If we make it through this, I'd like to take you to see them."
She smiled up at him. "I would like that…if we make it through this."
She stood. "There is something I’ve always wondered about. You seem to have a lot of knowledge about the genetic alteration of Mascots. Why don’t Mascots get beards?"
Donte’s smile was a little self-conscious. "You’re right, it is a genetic alteration. It has to do with pheromones. In the natural world, mostly females produce pheromones, but the scientists wanted to give the males something that would ensure their protection against the colonists. We give off pheromones that make them feel comfortable in our presence. I guess you can say male Mascots are a little more feminine than male colonists. That’s why we don’t grow beards or hair on our chest.
She studied his face and then his smooth chest. Donte didn’t look feminine in any way. He simply didn’t have all that extra hair. Maybe that was why so many male colonists wore beards. It was something masculine they could do that the Mascot males couldn’t. All the hair couldn’t compare to Donte’s masculinity – or was that his pheromones talking?
She looked up at his face and found him watching her with an anxious expression. She smiled. "You look masculine enough to me."
He looked relieved and chuckled. "We’d better get moving."
They followed the wash northwest and by afternoon they were able to cross it and continue their journey. Late in the evening they finally saw evidence of civilization. Donte was leading the way when he suddenly stopped, lifting a hand for silence. He listened for a few minutes before motioning her to follow. He crouched, making his way through the brush to a ridge. From there they knelt and examined the small farm in the valley below them.
Donte grabbed her arm and pointed with excitement. He leaned toward her and spoke in a low voice, as if anyone down there could hear him if he shouted.
"Look, it's a camelus!"
Akira nodded and spoke in a normal conversational voice. "Is this the first time you have seen a camelus?"
He shrugged. "It's the first time I've seen a real camelus. I've seen pictures." He continued to watch the camelus. "I'd like to touch one."
She grinned. Sometimes he was like a little kid. "If we make it through this, I will take you to see some."
He glanced at her and smiled. "I'd like that."
They turned their attention back to the farm. The house was built of rose-colored rocks and the roof looked like grass. There were several arched windows and an arched door. At the base of each window was a box containing blooming plants. There was a wooden structure beside the house - probably a barn - and behind that, some fowl dusting. Akira turned to Donte.
"Do you think we could catch one of those fowl?"
He frowned. "Why?"
She rolled her eyes. "To eat it. I'm starving."
His full attention was on her. "But we have nothing to trade."
"They'll never miss it."
His attention shifted back to the farm. "I'm sure they would miss it."
"They'd think an animal got it. We could be careful not to leave tracks."
His gaze returned to her face. "But we would know."
She heaved a heavy sigh. "Of course we would, and we would be thankful."
He continued to watch her. "How would that make us different from the Nyumbani?"
She stared at him. "We're not going to raid them. We're just going to take one fowl to keep us from starving."
He smiled. "Define raid. If you sneak down there and take something that doesn't belong to you with the intent of never returning it, isn't that technically a raid? Does it matter whether it was one fowl or a warehouse full of food?"
She shrugged. "Technically, I suppose, but…would you rather starve?"
He sighed. "I'd rather go down there and work for a meal, but I can't risk exposing our presence. We won't starve. I'll find us something to eat."
They backed away from the ridge and continued on their trail. If they didn't find food, at least they had an alternative. She followed his lead, staring at his muscular back as he walked. His hair was beginning to grow on either side of the roach of hair. The absence of hair on his face would immediately identify him as a Mascot. His manner of dress would be strange to the farmers, but his knowledge of their language would give him a distinct advantage. She had no doubt that if she had not been there, he would have gone down to the farmhouse and offered work in exchange for food. Most likely he would have been welcomed, as he was everywhere. Maybe they would even identify him as she had.
She had become his burden. Her presence would likely kill the deal, but even more important was the fact that he was concerned about putting her at risk. He thought it was his place to find food for them and protect her - because he was the man. Before her capture she would have considered that an insult. At the moment she found it comforting. What was happening to her? She was changing. Was it for the better?
Her cheeks grew warm as she thought of his reason for not capturing a fowl at the farm. At the time it had been clear that there was a difference between taking one fowl and stealing a warehouse full of food, but the more she thought about it, the more she wondered if that was the case. According to Donte, the Nyumbani were starving. One fowl would not be enough for the entire colony. It was different, though. She and Donte wouldn't harm anyone or destroy their property. They wouldn't take captives. Still, if they took a fowl today, maybe they would "borrow" a camelus tomorrow. If they were confronted, would they take a life to protect their own? Where did it end?
Later that evening, when Donte killed a serpent with his spear, it was obvious to her that he was getting too close. His reactions were unusually fast as he deftly leaped back. Still, he was risking his life so that she would have food. While they ate that night by the fire, she broached the subject.
"You could have been killed today trying to catch that serpent. I should have caught the fowl so we would have something to eat and you wouldn't feel guilty. I don't want you to treat me any differently than you would a man."
He was sitting on a rock, an elbow on each knee, his attention devoted to the food in his hands. He lowered the food and frowned at her.
"Why do you think I wouldn't feel guilty if you stole the fowl?"
She shrugged. "I don't think of it as stealing, you do."
He shook his head. "Let's forget about terminology for the moment and address my objections. I'm sure those people lose a lot of fowl to predators. Let's say they assume an animal took the fowl. They would still have one less fowl."
She shrugged again. "They had enough fowl that they could spare one."
"Maybe, if no more hungry people or animals came around. They didn't get so many fowl by giving them away. The fowl were intended as food for them. Every one we take is one they put effort into growing and won't get to eat. Those fowl looked as good to me as they did to you, but the difference is that I don't think they are responsible for my hunger."
She sat upright, giving him a poisonous look. "I don't think anyone is responsible for me - not even you! But that doesn't stop you from risking your life to provide for me, does it?"
He smiled. "Why does it make you angry that I want to help you?"
"I'm not angry because…" She shot the words back at him before giving them consideration. Her face felt hot. "You're treating me this way because I'm a woman. If I were a man, you wouldn't have tried to stop me from catching that fowl."
His smile broadened. "So, you're angry with me because you're a woman."
She gave him a level look. "You see what I mean? You wouldn't make fun of a man this way. You'd listen to what he had to say."
His smile faded and his gaze became serious. "A man wouldn't be complaining that I was treating him special because he was a man." He shrugged. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make light of your concern. But since you brought up the subject, yes, I treat you differently than I would a man - and I will continue to do so. I was brought up to respect women, and to think of them as equal, but different from men. I'm sorry if that offends you, but that's the way I am."
She met his gaze with defiance. "In other words, get over it."
A smile played at the corners of his mouth and put a twinkle in his eyes. "More or less."
"I don't understand," She said. "If you don't think those people should be burdened with our hunger, why do you feel you have to be burdened with mine - because I'm a woman?"
He watched her for a moment before responding. "For me, it is a choice. If we had asked for the fowl, it would have been their choice. In any case, I didn't say you were a burden. I said I felt responsible for you."
"It's the same thing."
"No, it isn't. I want to help you, but the Nyumbani assigned me the responsibility for getting you home safely."
"Why do you think you owe them anything after the way they treated you?"
He shook his head and stood. "I gave my word. That is enough. As for the fowl, do as you wish, but remember, if the situation guides your conduct rather than a set code, then anything can be rationalized."
He stalked off into the night. She huddled next to the fire, feeling the cold in his departure. It wasn't as though she had no morals. Hers were simply different than his. A person could carry morality to a ridiculous point. Sure, if they had captured the fowl, it would have been stealing, but sometimes there was a good reason to steal - such as theirs now. The people at that farm had no reason to care if they starved, and what difference did it make if they lost a fowl now and then to a wild predator or to an occasional starving human?
She stared into the night where he had disappeared, thinking of his words: "I gave my word. That is enough."
Some people were too honest for their own good.
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