SHETHOR (The Rabanian Book 3) Read online

  Ronban knew that she was bitter at being ostracized by the Mampasians. In her eyes, if they had truly liked her father, they would have taken care of her after he was killed. But his death had only reminded them of who he was, and they were quick to send her off to Raban in the middle of the night, like a leper.

  People who saw her on her first day in Raban, dressed in the Mampasian school uniform, smiled in confusion and thought it was a bad joke. When they understood the truth though, they snubbed her for looking so Mampasian. Ronban had quickly realized that she was an outcast. The people of Mampas considered her Desertian, and the Desertians considered her a Mampasian. That very day, he adopted her. He could not stand to see her suffer such rejection.

  Ronban thought that her sensitivity to desert sand and dust stemmed from her childhood in Mampas, far from the desert. He saw how she suffered when she came back from the desert with watery eyes and a runny nose. He wondered if going to the desert was a form of self-punishment for her. For Shethor, the desert was a quiet place to think and an escape from the children who teased her. When she came back from the desert no one could tell if her tears were an allergic reaction, or from crying. Her puffy eyes and runny nose became her trademark, and the other children despised her for it. For the adults, her allergy to the desert dust was proof that she was not Desertian.

  Ronban had no experience in raising children, so he had nothing with which to compare the challenge of raising Shethor. He did know that she was complex, and burdened with a complicated past. He doubted that she could be a normal child.

  It took two years for her to adjust to Raban. By then her Mampasian traits had disappeared almost entirely. She took medication to control her allergy and the symptoms diminished. His friends advised him to give her space. To give her time to overcome the crises she had been through. He took their advice. She would disappear, often for days at a time, returning home exhausted and with a red and runny nose. When he asked her where she had been, she would tell him innocent stories of the desert landscape at twilight and the color of Aesder's rings. Once she told him of a strange cave she had discovered. He had just nodded, as he always did at her stories. Recently he had remembered that story and had realized what cave she had been talking about. For many years, she had kept her secret. He was amazed that she had succeeded for so long, with so many upheavals in her life.

  She had built a terminal in her cave from spare parts she had scavenged, and a few very specific components she had asked him to get for her. It was a strange hobby for an adolescent girl. Ronban knew she was different, and loved her for it, so he got her everything she asked for, without question.

  When she was nineteen, Ronban noticed that she had started asking for different kinds of parts. For her twentieth birthday she had asked for a very complicated component. Then she started asking for other small and very specialized circuitry. He wondered what a twenty-year-old girl wanted with these things, but eventually concluded that this was another stage in her strange and late adolescence. When he forgot to buy what she asked for, or couldn't find something, she would get angry. It seemed as if her life depended on it. In the end, he always managed to find what she wanted, even if he had to send someone to the far corners of Mampas for it. He felt uncomfortable taking advantage of his position to obtain her strange requests, but he wanted to make her happy.

  In the last two years, the components had become extremely specialized, and he often lost his patience. When she asked for bare components without ceramic castings, he had no idea what she was talking about. She had explained that the casting was a protective layer to shield the components from humidity and external damage. He never asked her why she needed such things, and she never explained. At the time he never would have guessed she wanted to adjust the bare components, and didn't care about damages. Longevity didn't matter to her. Everything would be over, for better or worse, within a year.

  For many years, Shethor managed to keep the secret of what she was doing with all those parts. Even when she did tell him her plans, she left a few major things out. The capsule under her skin was one of them.

  His admiration for her was tempered with fear. People knew what scrambling was, but not how it worked. Like all inhabitants of the desert, he only had a general idea. He knew that it was forbidden in Mampas just as it was in any civilized place in the universe. The traditions passed down from his Rabanian ancestors forbid the use of information scrambling. The ban was absolute, but the ability to control information scrambling was sacred. Although none of the desert people practiced scrambling this dual tradition stuck with the Rabanians like a shadow, and bound them with their ancestors from Naan.

  And so, for the ten years since he adopted her, this young girl with allergies and uncanny scrambling abilities grew up in Ronban's house. No one taught her how to scramble, or how to send splits of scrambles through the network. No one around her even knew how to scramble, not to mention what splits of scrambles were. It was her talent, a genetic mutation unique to her. She brought it to Raban and over the years, her abilities had increased tenfold. Everything she knew was self-taught in her cave somewhere out in the desert.

  I got out of the hovercraft, removed my helmet, and allowed my hair to fall down my back. I recalled people staring at me when I was a child in Mampas. This memory surfacing now, when I needed to quickly disappear underground, did not surprise me at all. Back then, I thought they were staring because they admired the unique beauty of my black hair, as my father had told me. After I arrived in Raban, I saw that most girls there had similar hair and body structure, and I realized my mistake. They were staring at the features of a Rabanian desert girl, not my singular beauty. Those memories served to remind me to be careful about what I believed.

  Black hair, brown skin, and a slim, long body, were common in the Rabanian people. They were the tenth generation descended from Sosi, and the ninth generation since his son, Raban. They were also the fifth generation of a diverse assortment of people: tinsmiths, welders, mechanics, software and hardware engineers, who together could build or fix any aircraft, from sophisticated shuttles down to light hovercrafts. They were a nation in exile and the desert was their world.

  No one ever asked how this had begun, just as no Mampasian ever asked who was responsible for their own prosperity. The few people who knew their own personal histories, the ones that hadn't been scrambled, were the descendants of Raban and Sosi. They had held onto the last remaining copies of sacred Books, locked in heavy metal cabinets, in their underground city. These Books connected the Rabanians to their past by hidden chains and unclear language. Within them were the details of traditions, values, and customs passed down from generation to generation, and the Rabanians jealously guarded them.

  I entered the shed that covered the entrance to the city. People were passing by, some on their way out, and others heading to the wide stairs leading into the underground city. A slight and familiar vibration moved through the metal shed above me. I took a quick look and slowed my steps to keep my senses sharp. The vibrations grew stronger; I was sure they had found me. My eyes began to water and my nose started to run; I sniffed quietly so as not to disturb my concentration. Hovercrafts appeared vibrating the shed so intensely that I thought the roof would fly off.

  The big space began to fill with dust and I started to choke. I knelt down. I was close to the stairs, but the tears in my eyes and my burning throat made it difficult to move. I felt like I was suffocating, and all I could do was to cover my ears, close my eyes tightly, and wait for the worst. Nothing happened. The noise gradually decreased and the hovercrafts that had been just above the shed went away. When I uncovered my ears, I heard the fluttering of flyeyes

  Someone touched my shoulder and I jumped.

  "Are you ok?" he asked

  I hid my face and rose. I nodded and looked around. The fluttering of the flyeyes was stronger now, magnified by the hollow space beneath the shed.

  "It’s only flyeyes," said the man, "th
ey always release them when they don’t find what they are looking for right away”.

  I nodded.

  "Are you sure you're ok?"

  "Yes, yes, I'm fine," I said, and sniffed.

  "They’re probably just looking for a criminal who has escaped to the desert. You know, it happens a lot. Criminals come here to hide, because some Mampasians look like us. Well, at least the color of our skin is more or less the same. You know, we share a common mother."

  He nodded as if what he had said made him nervous, then turned and disappeared. I went down the stairs and the annoying fluttering noise faded away, then stopped altogether. Suddenly a small flyeye appeared behind me; they were fast little devils. I wiped my tears, sniffed hard, and when the flyeye came close enough, I grabbed it firmly and pinned it against the wall. I could see the eye looking at me, but my face was covered so I didn’t worry about it too much. It stopped fluttering for a second and tried to break free, but I slammed it against the opposite wall. It fell, rolled down two steps, and stopped. I quickly descended, opened the door at the bottom of the stairs, and entered the corridor. The door behind me closed and a light above the door at the other end of the corridor lit up, indicating that the corridor was free of flyeyes. I walked forward, opened the door and entered the city.

  I stood there for several minutes, my eyes tearing and nose running, and gazed at the storefronts facing the huge square on the left side of the street. The stores served those who worked in the industrial zone as well as those working in the sales centers along the belt road surrounding Mampas City. These workers passed through the square every morning when they left home, and every evening on their return.

  A woman passed by me, and her jaw dropped. She looked familiar and seemed shocked at the way I looked. From behind me, I heard her say hello, but I didn't turn around. When she was gone, I remembered that she was the mother of one of the girls from school who used to laugh at my Mampasian name. I went into the restroom on the square, and washed my face. I felt better, but I knew that the tears and sniffles would return. I shouldn't have forgotten those damn pills. I walked out and turned toward Chosen Street. The noise from the stores faded and air from the cooling system on the ceiling blew in my face. I shook thoughts of that woman and her daughter from my head, and blessed the founding fathers for installing the air conditioners. They were built from the spare parts of spacecraft turbines, and their vents hung between the lamps in the center of the street's ceiling. They pumped in clean air from the outside, compressed it to cool it down, and then pumped it into the city.

  After a few minutes' walk, I reached the railway. An open railroad car passed by slowly, and I quickly jumped on and sat down. The tracks circled the city. They looped from the main entrance past two smaller entrances, then on to City Hall. The railway passed through the center of the road and on both sides there were sidewalks that branched off to other streets. I usually preferred to walk. It wasn't much slower than riding the train, but I was exhausted, emotionally more than physically. I knew that my dreams would soon get people hurt.

  When the railroad car passed The Heroes Street, I jumped off and within minutes I reached the marketplace of Raban. I detoured around the crowds through side streets and passed the Bank of Raban. Some people stood at the entrance to the bank, and as I walked past them, I overheard their discussion about sales in Mampas and the price of raw materials. I gritted my teeth and quickened my pace. I wanted to scream at them that they were servants of Mampas and that this slavery was so deeply embedded in them that they weren't even aware of it. I had seen it everywhere since I arrived in the desert. I wasn't sure where my thoughts came from. None of the people of my age in Raban, let alone in Daio or Dug, thought as I did. These people were immersed in the materialism of Mampas, especially the Daianians and Duganians, though the Rabanians were not far behind them. Because of me, people would be hurt, but it was the only way to wake them up.

  Exhausted from my day, from my allergies, and from rushing across the city, I finally arrived home. I crossed the short path between the street and the entrance to my house, pushed open the door and slipped inside.

  "Are you all right?" he asked, as I entered the house.

  I nodded. He smiled and I knew he was relieved.

  "How did it go?" he asked.

  "Excellent," I replied, and flopped down on the sofa in the living room.

  He walked toward me and handed me my medicine and a handkerchief.

  "You forgot again," he said.

  I took a capsule and swallowed it quickly.

  "Were you successful?"

  "I updated everything." I replied quickly, "everything is fine, you don't have to worry."

  His gaze remained stern as he sat down in the armchair near me.

  "Did you send new…splits?" he asked, and I could feel him shudder at the word.

  I nodded.

  "What did you do?"

  "Nothing serious," I replied.

  He nodded back.

  "I thought you trusted me."

  "Of course I trust you," he said, and waited. I knew that he really didn't have a choice, but I decided to tell him.

  "A power failure in the malls in Kolsar," I said, "in about an hour."

  I wasn't going to tell him everything. This was the first time that I was striking them for real, and I wasn't sure how much damage there would be.

  "Where were you when they got here?"

  I thought for a moment. "I was already in the city."

  He nodded again.

  "Don't worry, they didn't discover anything," I said.

  I got up and made my way to the shower.

  I reached the stairs, thinking that if I hadn't forgotten my medication I most probably would have had enough time to pass both doors at the entrance to the city. Even so, my margin for error had become smaller. Much smaller. It might be wise to neutralize one of the scrambles. That would give me a few more seconds. I thought that maybe I should send less complex splits, but that would present other dangers.

  In the shower, I remembered that no one in Mampas even knew what splits were, and decided that I probably worried too much. I let the water run down over the scar on my hip. It was almost healed. I ran my hand over the slight bump and thought about Aesder's rings.

  "I'm going to the Reading," I heard my father say and it broke my train of thought. I turned off the water and called out, "Ok, I'll join you later."

  "Do you want me to wait for you?" he asked.

  "No." I was emphatic. I knew that they would not start without him, and I didn't want to make them wait because of me.

  After my mother's death, my father used to take me with him almost everywhere he went in Mampas. I attended many receptions for important people whom I had never met before. Sometimes I sampled the cocktails, just to please my father's friends and acquaintances. Before each event, my father would take me to buy clothes in one of the local malls. The collection of clothes that I left behind when I was cast out of Mampas, wearing only my school uniform and carrying a small backpack, became a lesson in the transience of materialism.

  I loved Mampas, especially the green open spaces and the dense forests of Kolsar. Every time my father travelled to the Kolsar region for a long period of time, I transferred to the local school. My father had a close friend, older than him by 20 years, named Ses Raham. When he and his wife Shirit retired, they left the city and moved to the outskirts of Kolsar. Their children had already left home, and I was always welcomed. Their house looked like the forest behind was about to completely envelop it. During my visits, it was like my second home. Ses always said, "She is the spice of our life," and I loved to hear him say that.

  Several other houses bordered on the forest, and in two of them lived children about my age. We would wait together for the school bus. After school, we would go out into the open fields to play, often staying out until dark.

  When I arrived in Raban, Ronban didn't understand my trips to the desert. I was searching for t
hat feeling of open space I had loved as a child, but the expanse of the desert was desolate, and I couldn't find anything like Kolsar there. After I found the cave though, I stopped searching.

  Eventually, I got used to life in the desert, and except for my allergy, I got to know things that I would never have known, had I lived in the city. I was impressed by the Desertian way of life, and at the peace they had found living in the desert. Yet, I detested this way of life, mostly because of their acceptance that the desert was their reality forever.

  I spent many years wondering what made me so special – what did I have that others did not. When I had decided my destiny, I thought I was taking an impossible mission upon myself. Because I had lived in both places – in Mampas and in the desert, I thought that only I truly saw the discrimination against the Desertians. My rare combination of genes that gave me astonishing scrambling abilities was not a consideration back when I started the voyage. It's hard for me to understand how on the one hand I planned to strike against Mampas, and on the other hand, I hadn't realized then that my powers were so relevant and important to fulfill this quest.

  Often, I would unwittingly push the boundaries of the permissible. My abilities developed naturally, like the signs of puberty, there was no leap from innocent antics to scrambling and controlling. It had started as an innocent game when I was a little girl in Mampas City. I discovered that I could send two innocent commands into the network from home. These commands would then converge on my screen, to carry out a coordinated action. In many cases, this coordinated action was an innocent question such as "how many colors are in Aesder's rings today?" A correctly phrased question was my signal that the splits had converged as I had expected. If the question returned was "How many rings are in the colors of Aesder?" I know that something had gone wrong. This happened on occasion, and the results often made me smile. Next, I started to do simple things like switching on the light in a room or operating the washing machine. Later, I used this game to annoy other children in class. I would send two splits of commands during recess, and then during class something weird would happen. Once I set off the fire alarm at school, and within minutes fire extinguishing vehicles and rescue shuttles arrived. That was one of the times I felt that I had gone too far. I suddenly realized I was doing things that were punishable by death on any civilized world. I promised myself that I would never again use that "thing", which I didn't even have a name for. Fortunately, I kept that promise for years. If they had discovered my abilities back then, history might have looked different.