Fic: The Odyssey, xxviii. epikaste
Warning: Incest.
--
“I was collected during the Great Militarization;
they called it collecting then, not imprisonment.
All the old words were hurled down as deceitful symbols,
now the old words have come back in the years recent.
The collection-- I did not have good Suvwl’ background;
my mother came from Du’, my father Suy kind.
But in those days, the prisons were not as bad--
the labor was hard, the plank beds were cramped,
but we had food and even some days of rest.
This was before the press for machine-building fervor
came to an unbearable fevered pitch,
days that most tlhIngans cannot even remember--
they are too young, children during the switch.
I was on the collective serving time with hard labor.
The men and the women were in separate camps,
but this fact for us never prevented
somehow finding each other and seeking contact.
I became pregnant. I had not finished my time.
Babies and children are forbidden to us--
they took my child without even telling me
whether it was daughter or a son.
They sent my child to another city
to be raised by a warrior birthed family chun.
I cried bitter tears that night, breathing softly,
feeling loneliness beyond what I thought could be borne.
The years passed. Labor eased my dry sobbing;
the rhythm of work rubbing life to my bones.
I was released. Though the collection time followed me,
I found a good job in a large factory,
assembling parts for the warbird weapons.
I spent my free time with my new friends happily.
A few years passed in this way; times grew harder,
the war and the purges swelling to strong
sweeps of a tide that we could not resist, and
it was in this time that he emerged like a song.
A young man, quiet, with clean iron honor;
he’d completed his schooling with engineering degree
to improve the machines of weapon manufacture.
ever practical, he began by questioning everybody:
What were the parts that broke down the fastest?
What were the parts that were difficult to fix?
What would we do in his stead for this project?
What kind of improvements did we think we could list?
That is how we came into contact;
and who could have guessed that we would fall in love?
He admired my steady, soothing work rhythm;
I admired his hands, gentle like a dove.
We married each other when the purges were blackest;
he stood true to me and I trusted him like no one.
When the worst hunting had passed, I found myself pregnant--
in the years following, I bore two daughters, two sons.
One summer’s day with the sun high above us,
tlhIngan officials appeared at our step.
They looked at our children, asked to speak to us in private
we feared, but did not know what to fear yet.
They stepped into our home; I felt sick to my stomach.
Would this be about my collectived years?
would this be about his work, did a silent
traitor denounce us-- and why did they leer?
‘You, epiKhas, once bore a child who was taken away
to Kh’ritlh to be reared. Is that correct?’
‘I do not know. They never told me
where the child would grow. My knowledge has been dark all these years.’
‘You never once thought to seek to find him.’
‘I did not know I had borne a son. I sought only to
find a place in Qo’NoS, to fulfill my duties and live with Qun.’
‘You bore a son in the year the Great Militarization
was finished ahead of its seven year plan.
You bore a son who was given in Kh’ritlh
to the family P’lybus, who raised him with the demand
that he excel in the disciplines of weapons and science.
So he took a degree in that course and came to this land
to work in a factory to improve manufacture
of our warbird disruptors and fiery brands.
He has served Qo’NoS well, meeting every demand.
'So impressed was the Director-Qel factory commander
that he desired to trust your selfsame son and husband
with the construction of a new, larger better weapons plants.
but we find now it is impossible to grant
this otherwise remarkable honorable man,
for he has taken as wife his mother’s own hand.’
You cannot know what I felt.
You cannot know my despair.
To see the face of my beloved husband,
the lost child of my labor whom the fates had begotten--
such a tale of blood. Blood, labor, despair.
To see in my children, my sons and my daughters,
lost in fates, blood, labor, despair.
That very next day my husband was working
the weapon exploded, burned his hands and his face.
It blinded him and rendered his hands dead and useless;
he almost died from the shock,
but I could not let him go so I wrapped my arms to embrace.
‘It is not our fault that our paths became twisted--
we neither could know this secret hid in our blood.
the fates have been cruel, but beloved, I will kiss your
sweet eyes and sweet hands and sweet lips despite blood.
You are your own person with a past from me distant--
I am my own person falling in a love of my own.
Fates made us one blood, but beloved, I resist it--
I don’t believe fates led us to cursed love of our bones.
I do not love you for a son’s blood and body--
You do not love me for my birth of your life.
We love each other for the strength lent in darkness;
We love each other for our joys despite strife.
Beloved, our children. Can you regret them?
Can you regret such small beautiful lives?
They should not exist by blood-lined ordinance
but what is done is done, can you regret life?’
Thus you find us here living. Together, in exile,
children now dispersed. One daughter a healer;
one son a priest, another musician and the last
likely deceased-- she was running to Orion
we have not heard of her since.”
“What was her name?” “ant’Qlan. Wild and untroubled.
She knew of her blood and hated tlhIngan’s laws.
She thought she might find answer in stars.”
“We’ll look out for your daughter in our travels
We’ll tell her you’re here, still living in love.”
“I am getting old, my husband’s health is failing;
the pain of his eyes never leaves him, he says.
We may not live many more summers.
Fates have been harsh, even after we fled.
But in all this, I will never regret
choosing blood-cursed, fated life
over choosing our death.
In all this, I will always remember
these years learning life
endures even incest
and allows us to live
through its horrors and threats.”
--
--
“I was collected during the Great Militarization;
they called it collecting then, not imprisonment.
All the old words were hurled down as deceitful symbols,
now the old words have come back in the years recent.
The collection-- I did not have good Suvwl’ background;
my mother came from Du’, my father Suy kind.
But in those days, the prisons were not as bad--
the labor was hard, the plank beds were cramped,
but we had food and even some days of rest.
This was before the press for machine-building fervor
came to an unbearable fevered pitch,
days that most tlhIngans cannot even remember--
they are too young, children during the switch.
I was on the collective serving time with hard labor.
The men and the women were in separate camps,
but this fact for us never prevented
somehow finding each other and seeking contact.
I became pregnant. I had not finished my time.
Babies and children are forbidden to us--
they took my child without even telling me
whether it was daughter or a son.
They sent my child to another city
to be raised by a warrior birthed family chun.
I cried bitter tears that night, breathing softly,
feeling loneliness beyond what I thought could be borne.
The years passed. Labor eased my dry sobbing;
the rhythm of work rubbing life to my bones.
I was released. Though the collection time followed me,
I found a good job in a large factory,
assembling parts for the warbird weapons.
I spent my free time with my new friends happily.
A few years passed in this way; times grew harder,
the war and the purges swelling to strong
sweeps of a tide that we could not resist, and
it was in this time that he emerged like a song.
A young man, quiet, with clean iron honor;
he’d completed his schooling with engineering degree
to improve the machines of weapon manufacture.
ever practical, he began by questioning everybody:
What were the parts that broke down the fastest?
What were the parts that were difficult to fix?
What would we do in his stead for this project?
What kind of improvements did we think we could list?
That is how we came into contact;
and who could have guessed that we would fall in love?
He admired my steady, soothing work rhythm;
I admired his hands, gentle like a dove.
We married each other when the purges were blackest;
he stood true to me and I trusted him like no one.
When the worst hunting had passed, I found myself pregnant--
in the years following, I bore two daughters, two sons.
One summer’s day with the sun high above us,
tlhIngan officials appeared at our step.
They looked at our children, asked to speak to us in private
we feared, but did not know what to fear yet.
They stepped into our home; I felt sick to my stomach.
Would this be about my collectived years?
would this be about his work, did a silent
traitor denounce us-- and why did they leer?
‘You, epiKhas, once bore a child who was taken away
to Kh’ritlh to be reared. Is that correct?’
‘I do not know. They never told me
where the child would grow. My knowledge has been dark all these years.’
‘You never once thought to seek to find him.’
‘I did not know I had borne a son. I sought only to
find a place in Qo’NoS, to fulfill my duties and live with Qun.’
‘You bore a son in the year the Great Militarization
was finished ahead of its seven year plan.
You bore a son who was given in Kh’ritlh
to the family P’lybus, who raised him with the demand
that he excel in the disciplines of weapons and science.
So he took a degree in that course and came to this land
to work in a factory to improve manufacture
of our warbird disruptors and fiery brands.
He has served Qo’NoS well, meeting every demand.
'So impressed was the Director-Qel factory commander
that he desired to trust your selfsame son and husband
with the construction of a new, larger better weapons plants.
but we find now it is impossible to grant
this otherwise remarkable honorable man,
for he has taken as wife his mother’s own hand.’
You cannot know what I felt.
You cannot know my despair.
To see the face of my beloved husband,
the lost child of my labor whom the fates had begotten--
such a tale of blood. Blood, labor, despair.
To see in my children, my sons and my daughters,
lost in fates, blood, labor, despair.
That very next day my husband was working
the weapon exploded, burned his hands and his face.
It blinded him and rendered his hands dead and useless;
he almost died from the shock,
but I could not let him go so I wrapped my arms to embrace.
‘It is not our fault that our paths became twisted--
we neither could know this secret hid in our blood.
the fates have been cruel, but beloved, I will kiss your
sweet eyes and sweet hands and sweet lips despite blood.
You are your own person with a past from me distant--
I am my own person falling in a love of my own.
Fates made us one blood, but beloved, I resist it--
I don’t believe fates led us to cursed love of our bones.
I do not love you for a son’s blood and body--
You do not love me for my birth of your life.
We love each other for the strength lent in darkness;
We love each other for our joys despite strife.
Beloved, our children. Can you regret them?
Can you regret such small beautiful lives?
They should not exist by blood-lined ordinance
but what is done is done, can you regret life?’
Thus you find us here living. Together, in exile,
children now dispersed. One daughter a healer;
one son a priest, another musician and the last
likely deceased-- she was running to Orion
we have not heard of her since.”
“What was her name?” “ant’Qlan. Wild and untroubled.
She knew of her blood and hated tlhIngan’s laws.
She thought she might find answer in stars.”
“We’ll look out for your daughter in our travels
We’ll tell her you’re here, still living in love.”
“I am getting old, my husband’s health is failing;
the pain of his eyes never leaves him, he says.
We may not live many more summers.
Fates have been harsh, even after we fled.
But in all this, I will never regret
choosing blood-cursed, fated life
over choosing our death.
In all this, I will always remember
these years learning life
endures even incest
and allows us to live
through its horrors and threats.”
--