The Pilot's Mate

In Earth’s forgotten history an Anunnaki princess leads her people from a dying Mars to rebuild an old village in the years before nuclear war destroyed Sodom and Mohenjo Daro.

Chapter One 

 

 

              “Your people …you will lead. Much sorrow …you will see. Much joy …in a new child’s first cry.  Your face …I see …looking at a great black cloud filled with anger, red with vengeance.”

              The little girl watched as the old haggard woman pulled her hand away. A tear formed in the girl’s eye. There was a muffled sound from inside the girl. The old woman turned her head to listen. Her eyes were sightless, cloudy with gray matter. Her gray hair straggled to her shoulder. She wore an old coat of faded leather that reached to her feet. She sat with her feet on the bottom step. Behind her an enormous pier stretched along the shore. It was the meeting place; once the place of fishing boats.

                 The little girl watched the old woman’s hands come to her shoulders and move down. The woman’s gnarly hands felt the puffy sleeves of the girl’s dress.

                 “I know you will lead. What color is your dress?” she asked.

                 “Yellow.”

                 “You are not afraid?”

                 The girl looked down at the woman’s bare feet. “A little.”

                 “Remember my words. You will lead. You will see a great black cloud.”

                 “Yes, Málóid, I will remember.”

                 “What is your name, child?”

                 “Say-leest-ay” my mother says. She spells it C-e-l-i-s-t-e.”

*****

                 Celiste turned away from the wooden pier and the old woman. She walked up the sandy slope toward their village, a collection of stepped pyramids built on the edge of the Great Lake that stretched to the north. She was expected to return quickly. A soft breeze scattered her unruly hair. She looked up and saw her father Essa on the third level of their pyramid.

                 Celiste would remember the words of the village seer. She would also remember this day. She could not know that her world was about to lose its atmosphere and her people would embark on another long journey, a return from exile.

*****

                 Celiste joined her father on the balcony of their quarters. She saw light clouds above their colony Ibri. To the south she saw the highlands above the lake and heavy clouds with the promise of rain. Sadly, a strong wind blew down the lake and pushed the rain clouds away, where the rain would do little to benefit her people.

                 Essa pointed at the clouds.  “This is how I want to remember the day I joined with Dea: a day of promise but no rain.” He smiled a soft demure smile that melted many hearts among the ladies of his village.

                 Essa’s best coat of pale leather had been cleaned and stretched by a friend. He wore a light yellow shirt, imported from Kien; in a material they called cotton. His face was newly scraped and his hair slicked back with an oil of desert palm. His role this day was to walk the path from the Gathering Plaza up the small slope to a copse of trees. There he was to wait for…

                 Celiste’s mother, Dea. She remained in isolation while her friends fussed over her hair and her gown. In the early morning she put river mud all over her face; now she fairly beamed with expectation. Her clear blue eyes put the lie to her heritage. She did not have the black eyes and black hair of the Aryan lords who ruled Kien, also known as Earth. She had the aristocratic nose of the lords, but her mouth was wider when she smiled.

                 Essa and Celiste left their pyramid and walked together across the plaza and up the small slope. The few trees were ancient, imported from Kien, planted by the original exiles to their planet, called Lehmu. The trees were dark green, with wispy fronds on slender branches. Essa stopped and waited. Celiste went ahead to meet her mother.

                 A piper strolled in front of a small group; they approached from beyond the trees. The piper led Dea’s parents and their guests. Two of their guests were Counselors; witnesses when a person of Dea’s rank mates to another of less rank. She received the rank of 25 when she agreed to mate with Essa. Her grandmother (on Earth) held the same rank.

                 The small group came up the slope and stopped. By tradition the parents stepped apart and Essa saw Dea in yellow, with green ferns in her hair. Later he was told that his face turned pale; some thought he tried to smile.

                 Essa stepped to her side and stood beside her. “You look,” Essa began¸ “you look …oh …charming.”

                 “Essa …you dear man …flattering you are not,” said Dea. His face began to grow warm. They stood together and waited for the musicians to arrive. The music would bring Captain, their village leader by acclamation. Dea and Essa stood inside the trees, with branches intertwined over their heads and yellow banners flying in a mild breeze. The arbor stood at the edge of the village Ibri. A path lined with stone blocks led from the small hill and its ancient trees down to the old pier.

                 “I am patient,” Essa added while he tried to smile at her. Mother, he thought, this is for you.

                 Dea must have sensed his nervousness. Her lips curled, slightly. A small stone turned in Essa’s stomach. Dea held his hand, briefly. She wore a flowing yellow gown that reached her ankles, cinched at the waist by a tan belt. Her hair was topped by a fashionable garland of woven ferns with white berries. Dea’s face was handsome; her eyes inquisitive, her lips carried a smile. Those present heard the lilting sound of pipes and small drums and their friends coming; color appeared in Dea’s cheeks. At her side her daughter held her mother’s hand and smiled at her.

                 “Your mother is blest; you honor her,” said Dea.

                 “The blame is mine,” he said. Among the Aryas, when a death occurs, the son or the husband or the father takes responsibility for the death. He knew his mother was working in a field near a cliff when a large rock fell and crushed her. “There were reports; she should have been warned.”

                 “She made me promise to join with you,” Essa added.

                 “Is that the only reason we are …here?” Her lips formed a soft smile. Essa felt heat in his cheeks. He knew when he was nervous or defensive or worried the color came in his cheeks. There was little time to worry about her question. The musicians and Captain approached and stopped a short way back from the gaily decorated trees. Their guests knew Dea and Essa were expected to go first to the wooden pier by the lake, and prepare the way.

Author's Note

Chapter One introduces the little girl Celiste who will grow into a royal princess and lead her people, although she will adopt the prejudices of her people.