Where had he gone?
Marta looked out across the barren landscape. He had been gone much longer than usual. She feared for him sometimes. No, correction, she feared for him always. Betafarl was a dangerous place, had been for the past 15 years. Ever since Zukan (and she turned to automatically spit on the ground in disgust) had let himself be killed and the Federation had taken control.
Zukan had been a reasonably popular leader. Not exactly liked, but he demanded, and received, loyalty and respect from his people. And he had stood against the Federation which was what counted. But then he had become too greedy and ambitious. And had forgotten what made him a great leader. So he made a deal with the devil - a she-devil.
Marta spat again, with more force this time and with hatred. Zukan should have had more sense. From the time he contemplated even meeting with that black witch, Betafarl was doomed. He should have remained strong and if anything, joined with the rebels. But instead he had listened to her and betrayed the rebels also. And in doing so he betrayed and lost his greatest treasure, worth more to him than anything in the entire universe. His daughter, Zeonna.
Marta sighed. She had loved Zeonna like her own daughter and missed her still. Long after she no longer had need of a nanny, Zeonna had spent many hours with Marta and none was closer. How could Zukan have lost control of his entire world so quickly? How could it have all fallen apart so suddenly? The Federation quickly moved in. They obviously had something to do with Zukan's death for he had been on his way home when his ship had been destroyed and the Federation were here almost immediately as though they had only been waiting for that event.
Fortunately, most of the population of Betafarl had enough sense to stand back and watch. Resistance would have been useless and merely a waste of time, energy and life. But there are other ways to win a war. So they waited.
The Federation introduced suppressants into the food stores and water reservoirs. So the people grew their own produce and went to the underground rivers to draw their water. Not all could do so, so there was a portion of the population under the Federation control, but enough were mostly free. Their time would come, so they were prepared to wait. Wait and watch. And when they finally moved, the Federation would suffer the torments of the Seven Hells for their perfidy. But that meant keeping a low profile and the boy was important. At all costs the Federation must never learn of his identify.
She shaded her eyes again. Still no sign and she anxiously gnawed at her lip. Should she go look for him? She let out a sigh and limped inside. There was little point in her trying to find him. He could be anywhere, so all she could do was to wait. She was too old to be gallivanting all over the countryside after children.
An hour or so later she heard the slight sounds that heralded the arrival of the cause of her worried imagination. She looked him over silently. Gone were the days she could have chided him. He was no longer a child, although no quite a man. His frame was tall and lanky. As he filled out further, he would look more athletic, not quite so... unfinished. The mass of curls crowning his head was a legacy from his father, as was the toothy smile, but the red highlights were all his mother's, as were the large almond shaped eyes that regarded her warily.
She half smiled at him and he visibly relaxed, knowing he was not going to be rebuked. He came over, poured two cups of steaming liquid from the simmering kettle, handed one to her and took the other, before seating himself at her feet. Her hands resumed their work on the small weaving loom before her. She needed more cloth to make clothes for the boy, who was growing rapidly.
"So?" she questioned. The boy took a sip, pulling a face as the hot liquid scalded his tongue, and set the cup aside to cool. She had already done the same.
"I was speaking with Gartel." Marta frowned slightly. She didn't particularly like Gartel. Too much of a hot-head, not prone to thinking things through and a little too ambitious for her liking. He would be the last person she would want to learn the true identity of the boy.
"And?" she prompted.
The boy shrugged. "He was asking a lot of questions. Wanted to know how we were related, why you kept me, that sort of thing."
Marta's flashing loom halted midway. "Did you tell him?"
The boy looked at her with scorn, as only a 15 year old could. "Of course not. I'm not stupid. I simply told him the same story you've always told." The loom resumed its motion.
"Good. Remember always that your identity would be the death of you. If anyone found out you were Zeonna's son you would be swiftly dead, not just from the Federation but our own people who feel that Zukan betrayed our trust."
"I know." He picked up his cup and took a hesitant sip. The drink had cooled enough so he took a larger swallow before speaking again, eyes watching her over the rim. "What would they think if they knew who my father was?"
Marta shook her head, knowing he was baiting her. "It would only make things worse."
"But one day, if Betafarl was to revolt against the Federation I could be instrumental in leading it, in establishing a rebellion. People may despise Zukan but they still acknowledge he was a good leader. And they almost revere Zeonna."
"That is because they pity the fact that she died because of Zukan's failings." Marta said sternly.
"Exactly. And if they knew my father was a well-known rebel that could add further credence to my claim."
"Perhaps." Marta agreed, but frowned on him. "Aren't you a little young to be planning a revolution?"
He laughed. "I'm not saying I would. I've just been thinking about it. And I would have to find someway of defeating that drug they use first. It would be no good rebelling before then. So I would have to look elsewhere first."
Yes, Marta thought to herself. He was already wishing to test his wings. It would not be too long before he learnt to fly, and his flight would take him far from here. She sighed softly to herself. All fledglings finally left the nest.
"Tell me again how my parents met?" he asked suddenly.
Marta glanced at him. It had been a long time since he had requested this story. All this brave talk of rebellion, death, suppression and freedom unnerved him, so he sought comfort in the truth of his parentage. The loom clicked softly in the background as she began to speak.
"You know who your mother was. Zeonna. A very beautiful young woman, with many suitors, but she had never met one who she was interested in, nor who could meet up to her father's high standards. Then her father, Zukan, began discussions with the leader of a rebel group. At the beginning I believe Zukan was sincerely going to side with them, to help them. I'm not certain when he changed his mind, or how the Federation learnt he was in touch with the rebels at all. But it is of no matter now. What's done is done.
During the course of the discussions two of the rebels came to Betafarl, to meet Zukan and assess the plans. The leader spent much of his time with Zukan, whilst the younger rebel was left with Zeonna.
There had been an instant attraction between them both, of that everyone was aware, even Zukan who did not look upon it at all favourably. But no-one realised that it went much deeper than just attraction, at least for Zeonna. She came to me and spoke for a long time. For the first time she had found someone she felt she could spend her life with, but the circumstances were hardly convenient.
After the rebels had left Zeonna came to me again. This time with a problem, although we both tended to view it more as a twist of fate, especially in light of events that followed. From the brief affair she had had, she now found she was with child. There was no question of not keeping the child. She wanted this child by the man she loved, but she had to know how he truly felt about her before she could tell him. She had no wish to trap him.
So we secretly arranged for the fertilised egg to be transferred to a test-tube for an in-vitro birth. It was extremely complicated, and dangerous. Zukan knew nothing of his daughter's condition and had to remain ignorant. Otherwise the child would never be born. Zukan loved his daughter dearly, but he could be extremely ruthless.
Covering up the transference meant that Zeonna had to get away, undetected for a time and disguised, to a practitioner. I claimed she was a distant kin of mine, who was very ill and so willing the child to me to raise as my own before she died. I have a few herbal skills and so Zeonna looked, and tested, as being very sick, which convinced them as they only do the most elementary tests. The transference itself is an extremely delicate operation. So many things can go wrong and result in the death of the child or the mother, or both.
So it was with great trepidation that we both faced this. I stayed with her the whole time. And even then, we had to wait 3 weeks before the clinic would state that the child had also survived. So with the deed done Zeonna smuggled herself on board the ship going to the rebel's base to see her lover again. She was able to send me only two brief messages. The first to confirm she had arrived safely and seen her lover and all was going well."
Marta stopped and smiled. "I understate that. She was deliriously happy and said he was thrilled she had returned to him. She had not yet told him of your existence."
Marta's face then sobered. "The second message was erratic. She told me Zukan had betrayed the rebels, had released some form of air-borne virus to kill them, not realising his own daughter was still there. They were doing all they could to neutralise it. I heard nothing more after that." Marta fell silent then, the loom continuing to flick backwards and forwards.
"So they both died there?"
Marta looked up in surprise. This was the first time he had asked further questions. He was indeed growing up. "I don't know." she replied truthfully. "I heard rumours that the rebels had escaped, although they died not long after. I believe your mother died on their base. She would have contacted me immediately if she had been able to. For your sake."
"So you raised me when I was born."
"Yes. As your mother asked me to."
"And my father never knew of me?"
Marta shrugged. "Zeonna may have told him at the last, but I don't believe she did or he would have come looking for you. Unless he deemed it too dangerous and guessed that the Federation would be here."
"So we don't know for certain if he is dead?"
"No. There is no certainty."
The boy merely nodded at that and swallowed the last of his now cold drink before standing and turning away. Marta watched him as he made to leave.
"Always remember who you are and believe in yourself, Zev Tarrant."
The boy smiled at her with confidence. "I do!"