The Rumsey did not return for what felt like an eternity. It began to wear on T’sala’s patience, and she found solace poking and prodding the offworlder to his annoyance. It didn’t grant her much relief, and soon after earning his ire, she often found herself wishing she didn’t have to endure his looks of utter annoyance. In between these times, they worked together on the device he was trying to attach to his voice. They had now managed a system that attached it with the scarf that made it look like a minor bump on his neck. It had crackled, and it had sparked, but it had not produced the voice she longed to hear. One such spark shot out at her hand, and she drew it back, blowing on the part that stung. She looked up to see the man, Alec, smiling at her and her boredom, pain and embarrassment that she was the one now looking a fool brought her to a boiling point.
“Perhaps if your remaining hand was made of more than thumbs, we might be some place. But no! Like your dancing feet, your fingers move uncoordinated and bring me pain.”
She immediately wanted to take the words back. They had not danced much in the last day, and T’sala missed it, but he seemed to be so singularly focused on his voice she had ceased to exist. The offworlder’s eyes said he had felt the sting, but he did not respond with any form of signing. She was made to stand tall and slumped back to the couch when their bound hands pulled her back. She sat down with such force that she fell into him and knocked him back on the couch. Her weight pressed the makeshift voice box down into his throat, and it sparked a bright blue arc. T’sala tried to clamour back but was blinded by the flash and still bound to Alec. What resulted looked like two young lovers, unsure of how to tumble in the grass.
He seemed just as eager to be free of her pressing on his neck, and she could feel his heart racing with her own. Their noses were near touching, and the look in his eyes was pure passion mixed with anxious consideration. T’sala felt her breath mix with his, resulting in a sweet, spicy seduction that drew her in.
T’sala inched closer and felt the one arm of the offworlder embrace her. She felt him lean in, too. The door clattered open. The woman Rumsey let out a small squeal, and the offworlders eye’s eyes shot open as he tried to roll T’sala free.
“Errr, a beggin’ your pardon. Didn’t mean to be interrupting, but well, it has been days. And not much to do. You know that from experience, Rumsey, don’t you?” The Rumsey was talking to herself more than T’sala and her offworlder, and that seemed to enrage T’sala even more. The man, Alec, seemed preoccupied with creating distance between them, and now that the moment had passed, did not make direct eye contact with her. T’sala turned her rage to the Rumsey.
“If you must know, we were trying to fix his voice…”
“No need explaining mam, may not look it now, but in my prime, Ol’ Rumsey was out taking men’s voices on couches, snow or any other place that suited love's desires.”
“That is not..” T’sala was furious that this woman was disregarding her explanation.
“I know, I know. Not any of Ol’ Rumsey’s business, and I hear you, but not much for it now. Things are afoot, and I brought some news to my long shift. Got ten hours rest, all earned proper, and now we can use that to get the real work done.”
“Well, yes,” T’sala continued, agreeing it was none of her business but wanting to prove.
“Good, since we are in agreement,” The Rumsey cut her off again, and T’sala wanted to strike her. “So down to the real work. We got deliveries in the old sector, and then I got a line on the purple stuff.”
Alec’s eyes shot forward towards the Rumsey, giving her all of his attention. T’sala cursed The Rumsey, the purple and the man Alec all at once in her mind. She wanted her moment back. A large section of sparks shot out of the offworlder's neck as his excitement at Rumsey’s statement peaked. A loud sound was produced that sounded like a voice trying to speak, realizing it is a toad and then dying before it can utter a croak. “Felllaaarrrppp connnnn Firrr zzzz strait!” The man, Alec, looked around, confused at the words that had escaped the device on his throat and then odd noises began to escape him in strange bursts. T’sala began to panic as she thought he was choking and turned her angered stare from the Rumsey to the offworlder. He was not choking; he was laughing. Or at least his body was showing the signs of laughter; the noise that escaped the box sounded as if a thousand demons were screaming.
He reached up to pull it free and found it stuck. As he pulled at it, T’sala heard various blorps, bleeps, electronic squelching and screeching. She realized all of a sudden, he was now cursing. With only one hand, he was not able to remove it, and T’sala felt it appropriate. She shrugged when he gestured for her help and turned her attention back to the Rumsey, enjoying the man Alec’s discomfort. T’sala was also enjoying speaking for them; if she was honest, she was not sure she wanted to give that up quite yet.
“What is the line of purple stuff you have found, Rumsey?” T’sala was angry still at her for interrupting her moment. “The offworlder requires jars of it. Not one simple line of it. The man, Alec, squeezed the hand he held, bound to hers, and she stopped to see him smiling.
“Gzzzarp Flb Flargety.” The offworlder's voice had a definitive tone as if he just said something profound, but the look on all of their faces confirmed they had all heard the electronically garbled speech coming from the device T’sala and the offworlder had been building. He reached up with his free hand to try to pull it free from where it was lodged, but to no avail. He resigned himself to the broken Teretha hand speak once more. “She sings winds.” His hand signals were sharp as if his frustration with his voice had impacted the electronics in his fingers. T’sala was able to put it together; this woman had information on where to find more of the purple, not a mere line of it.
“I also have lines in my head, the Rumsey,” T’sala offered. “One line in my head says we must get home, the other…” She paused and looked at Alec, flared a small purple blush and then pushed the thought away. “The other is more confused at the world around me and has broken into a small line that wonders if I can trust you.”
“You can, but you shouldn’t.” The Rumsey’s tone was not mocking or dangerous in any way. The calm steadiness reminded T’sala of the way her offworlder spoke. “What I mean to be sayin’ is, Ol’ Rumsey can be trusted, but you Darlin’ shouldn’t be trusting anyone, all willy-nilly.” The wiry woman in front of T’sala turned her look from T’sala’s gaze down to where her hand was bound to the man, Alec’s. “Sometimes even the ones you can get left with no choice but to betray you. Can’t blame 'em, cause you understand, but it don’t stop it from happening.” The Rumsey continued her thought as her eyes looked off towards where the moons would be on T’sala’s home world.
The eyes looked haunted in a way that T’sala dared not ask for more, and for the first time, she wished she were home and safe, with her brother Tusong and father beside her. She wished it so hard in that moment that she would trade the binding of her to the man she considered to be ‘her’ offworlder. To save her people and free them? She could give up any happiness she had. As she looked to Alec, who held Rumsey’s look with ultimate compassion, T’sala realized that while she could give up her own happiness, that meant making a choice for the offworlder too. She knew that sting, to be at the call of someone else’s will and desires, and she understood the distant gaze of the Rumsey and the compassionate look the man Alec gave her. T’sala knew some choices in life will bring the current world to an end either way. Like diverting water on her homeworld, the life beyond will face drought so that the ones who diverted the river may live. All the while, the planets watch with a coldness that shamed the baronhood. T’sala shivered with the thought.
“Phneeeeeeee urrrrr glll crch…” The first tone from the offworlders' homemade voice box sounded like the squeak of a dead animal the hounds were playing with. T’sala laughed. Her glow lit the room and drew the attention of the far-thinking Rumsey and the internalizing Alec, and both smiled. This time, the man, Alec, did not curse or attempt to. Instead, he rolled his eyes in a jovial mirth that increased T’sala’s glow even more.
“Ok, ok, enough,” The words themselves were halting, but the Rumsey had a smile from ear to ear that made her look like she could swallow a planet’s moon whole. She had not stopped giggling along, so T’sala was unsure if she meant it or if this was the Rumsey being, well, the Rumsey. The large smiling face looked up to the windows behind her, and T’sala leaned down to see what she was looking at. It was the windows, high up in the shop. T’sala could now see a darkness outside that, even through only the door, her purple glow faintly touched those windows. The rumsey continued speaking as she ushered herself into the room and closed the door. “I don’t know if you be havin’ any control over that thing, but we’re gonna have to do something about it. Too many eyes, too many rumours and too much trouble to go around in the old town of Haddencourt.”
The man, Alec, was leaning into every word The Rumsey was saying, and T’sala could tell he wanted to know more. She knew they would find out in due time. If anything, the Rumsey seemed to excel at it was speaking with no end. Or perhaps that wasn’t it? Was the Rumsey just merely bad at staying quiet? Her words were often ramblings… T’sala’s thoughts were interrupted by a hand waving in front of her eyes. She realized she was doing the moon stare the Rumsey had just been doing, and the man, Alec, was waving his hand in front of her. T’sala pretended like she was trying to lessen the glow and was hoping it was working.
“Ask, trouble. Ask, trouble.” The offworlders hand-signalled the two words over a couple of times, and T’sala took a break to begin to speak.
“Been with you long enough to know he, or rather you, is about to ask some questions.” The Rumsey interrupted T’sala before she could begin. “I’m sure all will get answered in good time. Ol’ Rumsey has nothin’ but Ol’ Rumsey on the road. Thunder ain’t much of a speaking companion. No, see, I run on plans and schedules, so let me lay that out, and we can get to the questions after. Come sit.”
The Rumsey walked them over to where they had moved things by the couch. She had a slightly fascinated look as she took in the fixed rectangles that made the wonderful music. She walked over and picked up the record that Alec had first taken to dance with T’sala. She liked that one, the woman sang in her offworlder’s language about an ‘at last’. The at last sounded very nice to T’sala and woke things in her heart that found anchor in the man Alec’s embrace to that dance. The Rumsey must have had her own ‘at last’ for now she gently placed the spinning disc and began to sway when the music began.
After a short while, she turned and wiped a single tear away from where her goggles left a mark. T’sala held her gaze, acknowledging the woman’s pain and gaining even more respect for the Rumsey. T’sala and Alec took a seat on the couch as the Rumsey pulled up a box and sat on it. With her small form, the box looked like a half-sized couch missing the backing. The Rumsey pulled up her boots and crossed her legs the way T’sala had been taught to sit for lessons from the tribes Singers. The Rumsey leaned in and took out a small orb. She pressed two buttons simultaneously, and it emitted a bright white light that settled into a recorded view of city streets. The Rumsey began to point things out and speak in heavy tones. The man, Alec, leaned in with carefully listening ears. T’sala listened to the music and did her best to understand what the Rumsey was saying. Many words she knew, but many others were lost to her. Only when she heard the words Teretha people did T’sala give the Rumsey her undivided attention. T’sala looked to the projected hologram and saw that the recording came from the front of Thunder, the Rumsey’s vehicle.
The footage revealed a gate that was shuffled open large enough to allow Thunder to pass in a concealed fashion. The view progressed down a road filled with holes where small feral creatures skittered from shadow to shadow. Larger creatures existed beyond the shadows, and at first, T’sala could only see the eyes, but as they came forward, T’sala could see the haunted remnants of Teretha.
T’sala wanted to cry. The people she saw in the Rumsey’s recording were gaunt; you could see ribs showing on the children as they played in pools of stagnant water. The elders looked on with haunted eyes that knew years of suffering. The Rumsey had been explaining how they would first take the shipment of goods T’sala and Alec had ridden in on, plus some more, to a place called Old Haddencourt. The Rumsey told them of how Teretha were brought here to do the blasting to create the ice roads from the rift-station in Haddencourt to the black sands, rich in oil, farther north. After the blasting, the Teretha that did not die were allowed to work as servants within the community, lesser members but members in their own right.
That all changed a few months ago, the woman Rumsey had explained as they talked into the night. News had reached the baron here that there had been a Teretha uprising. Overnight, the Teretha were taken to Old Haddencourt, previously sealed off from the toxins that had leached into the soil from the blasting factory.
T’sala was still lost in the plight of her people here on the screen when the view dissolved to show an incredibly large bunker with the baronhood’s logo on it. One side of the building was in crumbled ruins with blast marks from an explosion imprinted on the rubble. A light dusting of purple coated the thickest scoring from the explosions. T’sala looked to Alec, who seemed to be paying more attention now. A part of her hated him for it; she wanted him to focus on her people. The feeling faded quickly as T’sala realized his desire to get the vials was not selfishness; rather, her desire to keep him was. This man wanted his freedom so he could fight for her and her people. T’sala finally understood a word the baronhood monsters had thrown around so callously. Her offworlder was noble, truly. Not the simpering nobility of baronhood, but a man of nobility and all of the justice and honour that came along with it. T’sala’s heart swelled with hope that was bordered with fear; she had never trusted someone as much as this man, and it had been only a short time with him. Was the Rumsey right? Should she guard her heart against betrayal? The look of hunger on the man, Alec’s eyes as he stared at the purple residue while the Rumsey continued her plans made T’sala wonder, and T’sala did not like to wonder.
