Revision 2
Zeep-Eep felt old. Old and weary. He could feel that age in his legs and in his wings, a dull tiredness, a lack of vitality. It didn’t bother him much, except when he looked out the window at the city below. The city he had helped found long ago. There was still a lot to do, so much to be taken care of. But soon, it would be out of his hands. Others would take over, and continue the preparation for the future.
He sighed as he perched on a comfortable seat, picking up a cup of warm beverage. It was winter outside and even in here he could feel a chill in his bones. Gazing into the fire he once more began turning over the past in his head. Outside in the city he had to look confident and inspiring. He had to lead the people and help bring them towards their destiny. But in here… In here he could mull over the choices he’d made and wonder if he had done the right thing.
He remembered that fateful night, half a lifetime ago. He had stood behind the scene, watching as Veep-Neep, prophet of peace, walked out in front of her followers. There had been so many of them. The hall had been filled by fervent believers and he knew this wasn’t the only hall. All over Yehat space, followers of the Peace and Unity movement would be gathering to hear her fateful words.
Before it all started, he had pleaded with her. He had asked her if there was truly no other way to meet the future. Veep-Neep had confided in him, and he alone knew that at the end of the night there would not be peace and unity, but death and division. He had assured her that he only needed a little more time to persuade the sympathisers in the military to openly join the cause. He was an influential warrior, and many listened to him. Given time, he’d turn enough people around to stop the bloodshed.
But Veep-Neep had looked at him sadly and spoken in that eerie certain voice she had.
“You could turn the warriors to us. You could persuade them to join our cause. Together we could unite the warring clans, and unite the Yehat people. But saving us now would doom us later. No matter how good your standing, you could never persuade them to do what must be done.”
And with that, the discussion had been over. He had searched desperately for arguments, but in the end he knew the truth. She was right, he could never persuade the Yehat to do what she believed was needed. But was it really needed? He had wondered then as he wondered now. How could Veep-Neep know the things she did? Where did her certainty come from? Was it even true? Would he be saving his people because of her visions, or would he be condemning them because of her madness? Even now, he did not know. He did not know how she could see what was to be, or why he had chosen to believe her. But he had.
So instead of stopping her, he watched her step out onto the scene and perch in front of her followers. He remembered every word of her speech.
““My loyal followers! Tonight is the night we have waited on for so long! No longer will the Clans stand divided! No longer will Yehat kill Yehat at the whim of a corrupt Clan Lord! The time for peace and unity is here! The time to stand together for a peaceful future!” “
It felt so long ago now. Here in his warm and comfortable room that night on homeworld seemed so very distant. The night he had made his first choice and let Veep-Neep continue down the path she had set. He had listened to her speech and watched her followers go crazy with excitement. Towards the end, he had quietly slipped out the back and returned to his ship, taking care to avoid being noticed.
All over the Yehat worlds, Zeep-Neeps followers had rosen. And predictably, the Lords had responded swiftly and mercilessly. He had known that they would strike hard, because an uprising like this threatened their positions and the very system that gave them power over all of Yehat kind. They cared little for peace or unity, but very much for setting an example. Veep-Neep had been captured only a few hours into the uprising and was immediately brought to the Hall of Lords.
It had been clear to him that they would condemn her and judge her to be executed in the cruellest possible way, but he had been surprised by the speed with which it was done. As dawn broke, she had already been brought to the execution chamber. The night had been a feverish haze for him. He had spent it in contact with his most trusted friends and allies, working hard on persuading them to join the cause. The slaughtering of innocent civilians had done much to bring warriors around; it was an honourless task by any standard. Sometime before morning, he had wondered if he should break his word. The support pledged was large enough. He could stop this before Veep-Neep’s full plan came to fruition. But he had remembered discussing this with her as well;
“The people needs stories”, she had told him. “The path ahead is long and difficult. We will have to change our ways and leave behind much of what we are. We need heroes to make it through, heroes of all kinds. If you rally the troops before I am done, you destroy the narrative we are making. Instead of going, we stay here. Maybe the fighting stops, perhaps the Yehat heal. But in the end, the black death wipes us off the face of the universe. And not just us. Everyone will die. Everyone.”
Zeep-Eep shook his wings and threw his cup to the floor in frustration. Thinking of that night always gave him shivers and made him feel uncomfortable. There had been so much death and sadness, families torn apart and friendships buried forever. Brother had fought brother in the streets, as the Peace and Unity movement died and bled. He could have stopped it. He could have stopped it all, but he had let it go on. He had trusted the word of someone he believed in. That blood was on his wings.
Attracted by the noise, a young servant entered his room to clear up the mess. The youngster cleaned up quickly, avoiding eye contact but glancing at him when he thought the old warrior didn’t notice. The young ones these days seemed different. They didn’t have the same capacity for violence as the Yehat of his youth. They seemed happier somehow, much more at ease with themselves. It was a strange thing. As the youngster exited, he turned his thoughts back to the task at hand; scrutinizing his memories and doubting his own actions.
So he had waited and done nothing. He had watched the public video feed broadcast all over Yehat space. On the ship screens Veep-Neep was led to the execution nest and strapped in. A metal sphere, cooled to a temperature close to absolute zero was slowly raised from a chamber beneath. Making a mockery of the sacred event of laying eggs, this one would take a life instead of bringing one. As it touched Veep-Neeps nether regions, the shock and excruciating pain would kill her. This would be the signal, the sign. She would become a martyr, and the cause unstoppable.
But she hadn’t died. Instead, she had squawked
“Rup-Rup-Rup-BGAK!”
And then she had looked at the recorder and spoken
“You must leave my children. You must leave this place and create a new home. One where we do not slay our own. One where we look beyond the veil. Zeep-Eep knows the way, though that is no longer his name. He is Rumdumdaddy, and I am Weeny Wikki Beeki Birdi.”
There had been something about her voice at that moment. It had always been powerful, but then it had felt almost hypnotic. Those who listened could not help but hear truth in her words. All over the Clan fleets, mutiny spread like wildfire. Within hours, he found himself in charge of a rebellious fleet of eager warriors. They had wanted revenge. They had wanted to punish the Lords for their brutality. He had wanted the same. He still remembered the feeling of burning rage in his chest, the red haze and the instinct to kill. But instead, he had acted with an icy calm he did not feel. The Lords were arrogant, but they weren’t fools. Faced with a large uprising and a large mutiny, they understood that fighting would only lead to complete destruction of all things Yehat. So instead, they had negotiated. Within a few days an agreement had been reached. Peace and Unity supporters boarded the mutineer ships with all the possessions they could carry. Together they set out to create a new future.
He remembered how hard it had been. No one had wanted to leave their home behind. But the schism was too big. Their people had been split down the middle, between those loyal to the Lords and those loyal to him. He had spent months travelling between different ships, presenting his case and invoking the name of Weeny Wikki Beeki Birdi. And all the time he alone had known that this had been planned from the start. When comforting those who had lost everything, the secret was like a tumour in his heart. He saw their pain and knew that it was his doing. But what choice did he have? He had argued with Veep-Neep about this many times, but she had been unmovable.
“We cannot stay here. Eventually, a new Veep-Neep will unite the Yehat. But we are too far away, and we are not what we should be. We need to go to Giclas. We need to bring our people there and we need to become what we should be. The black destroyers will come for us all, unless both we and the trophy are in the right place. Many Yehat will die, but that is a price we must pay.”
Eventually, the exodus had begun. They had set course for the planet Veep-Neep had pointed out to him as their new home. After a long journey, they had made landfall and set about building a new home. And here they were.
As Rumdumdaddy got off his perch, he waddled towards the window once more. Looking down at the city beneath he felt that familiar unease. He had spent his life building this new world and teaching his people Weeny Wikki Beeki Birdi’s ways. She had told him so many things. To not hate their brethren, but love them. To listen to the universe and the spirits. To look at each new day as a gift. But beyond everything else, she had told him to keep the trophy safe. One day, it would help to save them.
He often wondered about that. The Clear Spindle seemed to be merely a trinket, but it was not of Yehat design. Where had she gotten it? What was it for? She had never answered those questions, except by telling him that the universe provides. And once again, without any reason, he had believed her. So he kept the Spindle safe, in an underground vault. He taught his followers about love, happiness and spirits even though he couldn’t quite bring himself to believe it all.
A large ornate timepiece on the wall suddenly burst out in song. The time for rest was over. It was time to go back out there and lead the people, at least for a little while longer. With a tired gait, Rumdumdaddy walked out of his private room and into the great hallway of the Pkunk palace. The hallways were alive with talking, laughter and related noises. He already longed to return to his peace and quiet, although he knew it would be spent reliving his past.
