A GATHERING OF MOONS — P01E09
Ghosts
More on dreams and memories
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The ghosts had always been there, only Tabetha did not think of them are ghosts. She thought only in terms of dreams and memories. She felt certain that both were true and felt that no separation, no veil existed.
The idea of planes of existence — had never entered her mind.
And, forgetting was no longer an option, for she remembered everything regardless.
And, if that was the case, she believed, then EVERYTHING was real.
That her life on the ship had now outlasted her life elsewhere was of no consequence because in many ways they were all the same. Life on the ship. Life before the ship. They were all memories and dreams.
She lived in the TIMELESS NOW.
Even in this very moment, as she made her way to the canteen, Tabitha sensed that she was not really here. That there was no difference between the OUBLIETTE, the sleeping shelf, the stope she now climbed to reach another layer of the ship. There was no difference.
The light, either non-existent as in the OUBLIETTE, or flickering like a heartbeat as it was now, or in the whitish glare of the canteen and other public areas, each seemed like moving through a haze and always it was as though her mind sought something else — some clarity that seemed always to elude except in the dreams that came in sleep or in the memories that arrived in the enforced darkness of the OUBLIETTE when her mind would settle on her breath and her awareness would dive deeper into the hidden recesses of her own consciousness or the shared consciousness of others like that of the bear.
Those moments bore a closer affinity to reality than the moments of climbing this stope, of eating, of being alive on this ship and interacting with her shipmates.
Of course, her group was small, since the UNSEEN, as Tabetha and others like her were called, were outnumbered by the pirates and crew — the mindless cogs that seemed to keep everything going.
The hierarchy was thinning though; the clear delineation between the UNSEEN, the pirates, and the crew seemed almost non-existent these days.
Tabetha didn’t know if that was mainly due to her having been here for so long, or that there had truly been a shift.
If truth be told, Tabetha was the oldest of the UNSEEN. No-one ever remained on the ship for long. The old seemed to disappear rather quickly. One stay in the OUBLIETTE, a few chats with Runkel’s dagger, and they were transformed quickly. Then, they were taken wherever they were taken.
One way or the other the sleeping shelves of the UNSEEN, the occupants of the BELOW DECK of the ship, was ever changing and, until the last few years, always full to capacity.
When Tig had arrived, there was nowhere to put him except with her and at first Tabetha had resented his presence. She’d pulled her blanket closer, and pushed the whimpering child into the back of the shelf.
But lately, there was less human cargo and the shelves were emptying more quickly than they were filled.
“Soon you’ll have your own shelf,” Tabetha had once said to Tig. He’d been 6 at the time. She’d been 15.
But Tig’s reaction had been so extreme, she’d never brought it up again.
If she’d been as green as he at 6, she’d surely have been killed, or worse, become the chattel of one of the Pirates.
Of course, many believed she belonged to Runkel, and that that was why she’d been allowed so much freedom. The reason he’d not sliced her throat or delivered her to one of the cities.
For, as a girl, why else would she remain UNTOUCHED, yet still here?
The pirates themselves had all been like her at one time; but, instead of becoming part of a shipment of the UNSEEN, they’d instead been won by a pirate themselves and served his desires as suited the captor until they too became a pirate and, in turn, chose one of the TAKEN.
The truth was that every pirate had a defect. A something that made him unsuitable for life on EARTH.
But it was unknown to have a female remain on the ship for any length of time, since they sold for more in the cities, although a boy like Tig, small for his age and feminine, would have fetched a lovely exchange.
And, if it weren’t for her first kill, Tabetha would have been gone years before.
And, if it hadn’t been for her second, Tig would have been gone too.
And, if it hadn’t been for Runkel’s reputation, and this deftness with both knife and word, they’d both be dead or gone.
Yet, on some level, Tabetha remained unsure why Runkel had never sold her off— except, of course, that she’d killed the son-of-a-rich-man and then the pirate who’d spoken of Tig as though he’d decided he might want to taste the spoils before the boy was sent off to the cities.
She knew she held some sort of value in his mind because of the killings. Especially because she’d done the second without flinching or even moving a muscle. She’d simply whirled on the man when she’d heard his words. She’d stared him down. She’d thought of how she would kill him if she’d had a knife and if he did not outweigh her by more than a hundred pounds.
And, just like that, he was thrown back. Was lifted from his feet and his body rent apart like a well-cooked chicken or goose.
Except that there had been blood. The memory of the blood was one that had haunted Tabetha since the slaying.
Now THAT was a ghost, she thought.
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