Sixteen, 10 February
Leilu still alive
Dronikus, a novel set on a burning planet called Earth.
What now?
Zola woke on large cushions on the floor, under a warm duvet, in dry clothes. His head ached. He looked about him, dazed, not quite sure where he was – until a flood of memory swept across him. A massive ball of pain and anguish came to life in his stomach and the images of the previous evening’s catastrophic events filled his mind. Toto. He threw his head back, straightened his legs and flattened his body, as if this would help him find some calm. Toto dead. In tears, breathing, hard in, hard out, he relived the moment when the person he had loved so dearly had squeezed his leg and had stood to face his execution by dronikus firing squad. ‘You make your way, my boy, my dearest boy…’
His body crumpled as he pulled his legs up into his chest, making himself into a tiny round object, lost to its suffering. Holding his breath now, he rolled about on the cushions: never had he felt such pain. He exhaled in a huge burst, gasping. His dear Toto.
And Agung. Also dead. Savagely mutilated. A ‘welcome home’ note from people Zola knew well.
He stood up and made his way to the large windows. He held his arms up against the metal frames and looked down over the city. Yesterday’s wind and rain had driven the fog away, leaving clear skies above the sharp lines of the cityscape. Transport dronikus flew low across the buildings and busy streets. He leaned his forehead on the plate glass. It cooled his skin. He tried to keep his mind blank, tried to find a bit of ease within himself. He stood there for long minutes, immobile, only his breath in and out, misting the glass.
He jumped as he felt a gentle hand on his back. He turned to find Chesa. She enveloped him in her arms, holding him tight. Chun came through bearing cups of coffee.
Zola, speaking in quiet, restrained tones, recounted all that had happened since he had last seen them at the RePO meeting. Chesa and Chun were aghast at the course of events and marvelled at Zola’s bravery.
Chesa asked: ‘Why did they kill Agung?’
‘He was asking questions about Sesanti.’
‘Sesanti? OK. They’re very tight about Sesanti. Maybe he found out something.’
‘And he was also following up on reports that Leilu is still alive.’
‘What? Leilu? That’s not possible, is it?’
Zola shrugged. ‘He’d got reliable information and was trying to find out if it was true and, if so, where she is.’
‘That’s incredible,’ said Chesa.
‘But it doesn’t really make sense,’ said Chun. ‘Why would that lead to killing herm?’ Heesh shook heris head, ‘unless heesh did really uncover something very sensitive about Sesanti. Do we know what they are doing down there?’ heesh asked Chesa.
‘No idea,’ said Chesa. ‘It’s a large facility but we never hear anything about it. Until recently that is, when the workers went on strike and Sesanti sent dronikus and rators to attack the local villagers.’
Chesa moved closer to Zola on the couch and held his hand between hers. ‘I’m so sorry about Roberto and Agung.’ They sat in silence.
After a time Chun produced an object from heris bag and put it on the table in front of them. ‘We found this in your wet tunic.’
‘Oh, shit.’ Zola winced when he saw it. ‘Oh shit.’
‘It’s ok,’ Chun said, ‘I’ve checked it. It’s totally dead, not able to send or receive anything.’
Zola’s face reddened, embarrassed, but he was relieved, deeply relieved. ‘There were moments of pure terror that it was… Y’know, like last night in the lane…’
‘No, it couldn’t have…’
Chesa turned to Chun, ‘and could it have given away the location of our meeting?’
Chun shook heris head. ‘Definitely not.’
Chesa was stunned. ‘Why did you buy it?’ she asked.
Zola shrugged. ‘I really don’t know. Like an urge somewhere in me… Bizarre, I know. And then when I had it, I couldn’t let it go. Although, I had actually decided to get rid of it, but the taxi stopped and I couldn’t and then events suddenly took over and…’ The words tumbled from his mouth. ‘I’m so sorry. Just so totally stupid of me.’
‘Yeah, a bit of a risk,’ Chun said. ‘Great that you’ve got it, though. It may come in handy.’
The three fell into another extended silence. Zola picked up the dronikus and held it in his hand. ‘Last night. There were about 10 of them, of these…’ He stumbled over the words as he spoke. ‘These, these things.’
He told of how he used to both love and hate the dronikus and how he had learned to coexist with them. He described the ‘dronikus wall’ around his compound and the coming of the brasselleur, how everything changed in a flash and how he had managed to escape by sending the brasselleur into the sky, and the destruction of the dronikus in the ball of flame. It was good to talk.
‘But the brasselleur. Are you sure it was real?’ asked Chesa.
Zola nodded. ‘It was a brasselleur, I am very sure.’
‘They definitely have been classed as extinct. Perhaps they are further down the road with de-extinction research than we thought,’ said Chesa.
Chun said, ‘it must have had some form of built-in geo-guidance. You have to be able to program it; you can’t just give it directions on an Eyeto and send it on its way.’
‘It knew where it was heading – straight into my compound,’ said Zola.
Zola spent many days lying on the cushions, wrapped in the duvet, dozing, sleeping, staring at the ceiling. He stood at the large windows and let his eyes roam across the city below, and then fell back onto the cushions and wrapped himself in the duvet again. Chesa and Chun moved delicately around him, offering food and drink and hugs and solace.
As the days passed, his trauma began to recede and normality began to break through. Even the general numbness in his body started to give way to sensations once again. The hot shower made his skin tingle, and it gave him pleasure to have the steaming liquid run down his torso, arms, and legs. Food started to have a taste again and a glass of wine slipped smoothly down his throat.
When he was alone, he would wander around the small flat amusing himself, looking in cupboards, exploring the posters and line drawings stuck to the wall. And as there was no television, sound system, or computer, he read many of the varied and interesting books from their shelves. He would go into Chesa and Chun’s bedroom; lie on their bed, breathe in their smell, feel their presence. He looked at their clothing, taking out bits and pieces, even trying on the odd jacket or scarf, particularly fascinated by Chun’s androgynous tastes. In the underwear drawers, alongside those items that were clearly Chesa’s, in among boxers and t-shirts he found smaller-size bras and panties. And something he had never seen before – singlet-like garments in heavy elasticised textile, cut above the midriff. It took him a while to figure out that these were chest binders.
One day, Chesa came in carrying a tray of tea. She sat in an easy chair next to where he lay propped up on the cushions, the duvet hanging loosely from his shoulders. He stirred and looked up at her. He bent forward, took her hands and kissed her fingers, thanking her for her kindness, for taking him in, for looking after him. She responded by clasping his head in her arms and pulling him against her. The embrace lasted a few seconds before they drew back, he to the cushions, she to pouring the tea.
‘Did it rain like this, where you were?’ she asked.
‘In the swamp? Yeah, we got both the rain and the heat.’
‘Every year it just seems to get hotter and wetter. But did you know that in some places it’s much drier?’
‘It was predicted, wasn’t it?’
‘Yeah, up north. Where the rainforests once were before being replaced by the palm forests, y’know? It’s all becoming bloody desert now, happening quicker than anyone thought it would.’
‘That’s not good.’ Zola shook his head.
They sat in silence, sipping their tea. Outside, clouds had been darkening the sky for some time, readying for the evening rains. In the room a single ceiling light gave a warm yellow feel.
Although he felt emotionally safe here with Chesa, in her and Chun’s home, he remained extremely fragile. As they sat, contemplating the state of the world, dreaded memories of the recent events returned. He struggled to pull himself back, to stay grounded, to keep from being overwhelmed. He looked at Chesa and then down at his hands, rubbing them together.
Chesa spoke. ‘Agung said that Leilu is still alive?’
‘Yeah, yeah, it’s wonderful…’ he said.
‘It does sound a little weird.’
‘Yeah. She was very badly injured in the raid. They said she had died but no one actually saw a body,’ Zola hesitated. ‘I want to believe that she’s still alive, but…’
He knew that it was important to talk, to verbalise the thoughts and emotions suppressed for all those years – the internal arguments and justifications and lengthy explanations and self-pitying reflections and emphatic accusations – all those words going round in his head, never spoken out loud, never communicated, never confessed. But, still so raw, he hesitated. Silence returned, him still rubbing his hands. Finally, he opened them, palms up, as in prayer, and looked at Chesa.
‘We really loved each other – as brother and sister, yes, but we worshipped each other. Even as small children we saw the world in the same way, moved and did things together that no one else could understand or relate to. She was by far the most brilliant person I ever knew. She had big problems with Enrike and Meriti and our parents, of course. Politics came later so it wasn’t that – she just had problems with how they all were in the world. I think in her eyes it was the domineering, the sneering, the sense of entitlement, always someone else around to clean for you, to wipe your nose, to wipe your bum even. And she and Colinson just hated each other. I don’t know why but it was always thus.’
‘Mr Pandoke himself?’
‘Yeah, our father. When we were young they were always at loggerheads. He said “black” and she said or did “white”, always. And later, as we grew older, it became the moral issues and the political issues and, of course, he was the arch conservative – arrogant, patronising, cynical – and she, the humanist, and later, the radical.
‘Leilu was so centred, y’know, morally centred. As if there was a mystical core to her being, around which the world revolved, almost like a Buddhist nun – a profound stillness and purity that seemed to guide her. And yet all this came with a wonderful humour…Where she went, I followed.’ He paused.
‘And?’
‘The critical moment, for me, in everything that came later was when she left. She tried hard to get me to go with her, but I was weak, I couldn’t follow my principles like she did.
‘When she left it was a big rupture, like an enormous crack opened up in the Earth and she and I were on opposite sides of it. It was in horror and terrible self-recrimination that one day I looked up and my sister was gone, lost to me. I cannot forgive myself for this inaction, this weakness, my lack of resolve. Even though she made her decisions, it was my fault for not keeping us together. Maybe if it hadn’t all gone so tragically bad later, I wouldn’t feel so guilty. It’s impossible to say.’
‘Mmm… And then?’
‘Well, I made some attempts to find her, as you know. I can’t believe that you remember me from that time.’
‘You made a big impression on a young girl. As I said, you were so intense. Doesn’t look like much has changed.’ They laughed.
‘And then I met Nur and, I suppose, I fell in love with her. Nur, in many ways was just like Leilu, a very strong and determined person, but also the opposite – self-seeking, manipulative. It wasn’t hard for her to reel me in. Quite soon I realised it was useless to try to find Leilu and rebuild what we had. I decided to let her follow her own path without me. I finished university and joined Enrike and Meriti at Pandoke.’
‘Tell me about your brothers.’
Zola shivered visibly; she had touched a raw nerve. ‘I don’t know what to say. You probably know more about them than me. I have been away for a little while, remember?’
‘True. Will you go back to Shangdu?’
‘No. Maybe. I don’t know.’ A deep frown ran across his forehead.
They sat for a moment. Then Chesa jumped up. She grabbed the tea tray and went into the kitchen. ‘We need more tea.’
Zola lay back on the couch, his eyes closed. His mind had returned to Nur, turning over the times he had shared with her, followed by the breakdown of their relationship and her treachery. He pulled a monstrous face of distaste, just as Chesa came in with the tea tray.
‘Oh, that’s a nice face.’
‘I was thinking of Nur.’
‘Ah, the beautiful Nur.’
‘I try not to think of her but just now I couldn’t get her from my mind.’
Chesa laughed: ‘Whoa. She clearly has a special place somewhere in your heart. Even the Lumpyface can’t hide that.’
He pushed the Lumpyface into a new grotesque position. ‘There is no face I wouldn’t pull for that odious woman.’
‘And here’s what I think…’ Chesa did some bizarre expressions on her face; soon they were trying to outdo each other with the most outlandish and idiotic faces, laughing hysterically.
‘Yay! A new game: Lumpyface-isms.’
After a while as they quietened down, Chesa asked, ‘ok, but why the nasty-nasty Nur Lumpyface?’
‘She was the one who betrayed me.’ Zola told Chesa the story of Leilu coming to see him after an absence of years, requesting that he help them enter Shangdu to carry out the attack, a request that he could not and did not refuse.
‘Nur came to my room the night after Leilu’s visit. Even though we were hardly speaking to each other, Nur knew straight away that something was up and questioned me closely. And, to my utter shame, I told her about Leilu’s visit. I don’t remember telling her about Leilu’s request or anything about the rebels’ intentions, but I must have – she was the only possible link between what I had promised to do for Leilu and my brothers.
‘And then it all began to unfold. A fellow that I had known at university contacted me. He had a handwritten note from Leilu, asking for the entry codes. I gave her what she asked for. But also in the note she said that she wanted me to join her at the triumphant moment of confrontation with Enrike and Meriti. It was beginning to sound a bit like an ancient Greek tragedy – or was it a comedy? I got very scared at that point.
‘And I was right to be scared: when the attack occurred some weeks later, they knew everything. There were rators and dronikus and military gunners everywhere. There was little fighting and little action: all of the rebels were killed in the ambush and the rators sprayed fire onto them as they fled. Leilu was among those killed, so they said.’
‘Wow. That’s a story that’s been well hidden. How incredible,’ said Chesa.
Zola continued: ‘After a few days of confinement I was taken into Enrike’s room. He sat, looking at me, expressionless as always. And there I stood, Zola, one more little part of the equation of how he understood the world to be. Alongside him sat Meriti, looking quite sad I thought, maybe not.
‘Enrike explained the terms of my exile. I agreed and they handed me over to the controllers who set the dronikus in place and I was transported to the swamplands where I was left on an island, with a couple derelict wooden shacks as my new home.
‘Even though I had let the raiders into the building, they also made everything point in the direction that I had shopped Leilu and her mates, informing Pandoke of the impending raid. Contradictory? Yes. Did anybody care? Apparently not. I thought that Nur had simply passed on the information, so in that sense they were right, I suppose.’
‘I know who brought down the plane,’ said Chesa.
‘What? Who?’ Zola was shocked.
‘I’ll introduce you to him, if you like.’
‘What? Yeah. Maybe…’
The prospect of meeting the actual assassin filled him with both fascination and fear. He couldn’t imagine what kind of person would force an aeroplane off its course and lead it to crash into a mountainside, killing all the occupants. And yet his sister had been party to the killing.
‘And what now, my friend?’ asked Chesa.
Zola shrugged. The future was still an unknown territory for him. He had no map, no tools to navigate it. ‘To be honest I don’t know what I should do. I don’t know where I fit in or what’s going to happen. It’s too early to say.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Really, after Roberto’s death all I have is, well… this,’ he indicated the space in which they sat. ‘I’m here, this body full of pain, in your clothing, in your flat. Not a refugee, but not so dissimilar to the people down there on the pavements – I have nothing, no community, no idea what I’m going to do, how I am to survive. I suppose I’ll just hang about here for a while, for as long as you’ll have me.’ He looked at her, changing his tone, trying to lighten the mood. ‘And I do have a couple of small items to attend to: go find Leilu and see if she is actually still alive, go see what’s going on with the people on Visiwa Island, find out what Pandoke is doing and stop them, reverse the global catastrophe, while finding ways to rebuild a sustainable planet for all its inhabitants. Not much, really.’
Dronikus is a novel published in 2023, now being serialised here on Substack. You can read a chapter every week for free.
Liking what you’re reading? Don’t want to wait to see what happens next? You can read the full book now by purchasing a digital or print copy of Dronikus from:
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Note from Marko Newman: Hi Dronikus readers. I hope that you are liking what you are reading. There is still a fair way to go in the story with many twists and turns to come.
For those who are joining the story I highly recommend you take the time to peruse earlier chapters to give you a bit of a lead-in to the story.
I suggest:
Chapters 1 to 3, 7, 9 and 12:
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Cheers, Marko