FANTASTIC PLANET v2.0 (12 page)

The First
Councillor for B South raised his hand:

'I propose
to adjourn the session for half an hour. When we resume, we will hear the
interesting report drafted by my continent's engineers on the productivity of
the food industry.'

No one
objected. The Council only had to deal with minor issues. For such a long time
everything

worked
to perfection on Ygam and the administrative
machine was functioning so smoothly there was practically nothing to do but let
it be.

Everyone
went to frolic for a while in the palace's pool, happy to have attended a
session which changed from the usual monotony.

***

A few
days
later three army spheres dropped twenty armed Traags
near the old port. Safe in their body armour, the soldiers moved through the
ruins without coming across any resistance. They knocked down a few walls,
searched the sewers, fiximaged some of the stranger installations and set their
minds at rest by beaming hard rays throughout the city.

They had not
come across a single Om.

***

When the
images taken by the small expedition got to Klud's First Councillor he chuckled
happily and asked for Master Singh on the intercontinental telebox.

'Do you
know', he said to him, 'what your three ships built by the Oms were
?...
Three crude representations of fish... Sorry? But yes,
Master Singh,

the
fiximages are before my eyes. Three iron sheets cut in the shape of fish;
they even carved eyes and scales
!...
What
?...
No, you thought these Oms were great sailors, when they
were only small fishermen. That is why they settled on the seaside. As for the
metal fish, it's probably some unrefined cult... yes... That's as far as
they've gone! I would even go as far as saying that's as far as they've been!
Rest assured
,
there is not a single one left. To tell
you the truth the soldiers didn't come across any, but they sprayed the whole
place with hard rays. The Oms must have dug themselves in their deepest
underground passages. They will never surface again. As we're talking their
burnt corpses are probably unrecognisable.'

The First
Councillor thought he was reassuring the scholar with the news. But his hopes
were thwarted; his red eyes became veiled with vexation and he could feel his
eardrums vibrating almost painfully to Master Singh's bitter recriminations and
the vehemence of his words.

He found it
hard to even get a word in:
'But.,
but I... yes, of
course, I am telling you all got burnt! Listen...'

In the end
he remembered he was First Councillor and he had enough of his interlocutor's
manners. He decided to speak as a First Councillor:

'Enough, Master Singh!
If you carry on with this
tone of voice, through me you are insulting the Great Council. This would not
show much gratitude to a government which has set out to enlarge the museum!'

The veiled
threat seemed to inflame things and

the
First Councillor had to raise his voice further.

'No, no, no!
Absolutely not, Master Singh! I do not want to... let me speak, if you don't
mind, I am your First Councillor! And despite our difference in age, I expect
to be respected. You forget one thing, Singh: Without me and my A North
colleague the other two Councillors would not even have accepted to discuss the
issue! You... What? It is possible, but do bear in mind that when the story of
the metal fish reaches official circles the laughter will sweep aside all
superfluous measures against the Oms. The Council has granted you two
deomisations a month and the port's destruction. Do not ask for anymore
eccentricities. I regret using this tone of voice with you, but you pushed me
into it.
Happiness onto you.'

The
Councillor hung up curtly and puffed with anger. Master Singh was not being
reasonable. Admittedly the wandering Oms issue came about and had its moment of
topicality. That was fine. But the measures Singh demanded were verging on
senile dementia. How about a general mobilization?

Besides...
The Councillor had in his
house two Oms, two magnificent creatures full of affection for their master. He
just could not imagine that his familiar beasts' fellow creatures could present
such a grave danger for the Traags.

The Traags had taken action
very swiftly, considering the delays caused by their administrative procedures.

Only two
weeks had passed between the time they had fiximaged the port's ruins and the
city's annihilation.

However
these two weeks were equivalent to almost two earth years for the Oms, and they
had got through a considerable amount of work in that time. As well as crossing
the ocean, they had dug beneath the lake's shore and built a hidden port for
one of the ships and completely dismantled the other ship to build with the
scraps three hundred heavy vehicles suited for driving in the bush.

Once built,
these vehicles were sent to go on reconnaissance in the High Plateaus, the
chosen place for their permanent base. The result being that a shuttle of
armoured tanks was constantly moving between the landing camp and the high
ground, hoisting little by little all the equipment, workers and engineers
needed to build a city.

Terr himself
did the journey several times to oversee the building works.

Finally,
tens of thousands of Oms were slowly climbing in long lines through the
jungles, flanked by the tanks' protection.

Although
vaccinated against all possible tropical

diseases
, young mothers and their children practically
did not touch the ground before reaching their goal. Terr had confined them to
the undamaged ship. They stayed in the tanks for the duration of the trip. That
way, accidents were avoided, as the forests were full of wild beasts as well as
placid animals only dangerous because of their gigantic size.

At last,
around the time the Traag First Councillor was admonishing Master Singh, the
final emigrating cohort was getting ready to depart.

Terr had
made a point of joining them. Apart from two or three inspection trips, he had
stayed on the shores of the lake as long as possible to reassure the remaining
Oms with his presence. The others did not need him as much. They were living in
a healthier and less debilitating climate. But those momentarily forgotten by
fate showed signs of nervousness. They needed the Aedile's prestige and
authority.

One day, a
hundred tanks from the new city emerged from the jungle and headed for the camp
which was securely entrenched between three enormous rocks. They had been
expected for a long time. They were bringing the relief guard for the ship.

When they
entered the camp's central square in a cloud of dust, a delirious mob came out
of the wooden barracks to gather around them. Their arrival meant an impending
and tremendous move.
The final one.

The crowd
marvelled at the fresh complexion of the two hundred lads who jumped from the
vehicles roaring with laughter. They willingly answered all the questions about
the High Plateaus and let female Oms kiss them.

Soon the
Aedile arrived. He climbed on a tank's turret and spread his arms to ask for
some silence. He then spoke into a telebox, his voice filling the square:
'Oms', he said, 'I've been told the city is ready!' Cheers came from all sides
and Terr had to raise his arms once again to be heard. He carried on, often
interrupted by his audience's enthusiasm:

'This means
we can leave... Wasn't I right to promise you that the Exodus would be a
success? At last we're going to live as a master race
!...
As for you, the ship's guards, you've lived in the hills for months. Your turn
has come to relieve those who've been languishing by the lake for so long. I
know many of you wonder why we keep this ship, and why we didn't dismantle it
like the other, which would probably have speeded up everything and freed more
equipment. I would answer that a little common sense is enough to justify our
decisions. We don't know what the future has in store for us. A ship could
still be useful to us. In any case, guards, you know you will be relieved
frequently. Now, all of you get ready. Since the evacuation plan has long been
finalized we can leave in two hours! Off we go to the new city!'

Fifteen
thousand adult Oms exploded in a formidable cry of hope. In the ship's nursery
two thousand wailing babies were unaware of the future their elders were
preparing for them.

The crowd
dispersed in all directions towards the barracks as the tanks were manoeuvring
in the dust, some to park, others to turn towards the exit and get into
position for the departure.

Two hours
later, the vanguard took to the road, soon followed by groups of two hundred
porters each coming before a tank packed with female Oms breastfeeding their
babies.

Although
used frequently, the road was barely opened up. Conquered from the jungle,
nature recovered it after each passage and it was obstructed by young trees,
bushes and gigantic branches. The tanks crushed everything and jolted painfully
on the remains of fallen trees.

From the
first stadia one had to squelch through mud. The reddish magma was seeping like
a sponge. The tree tops joined high above the track like pillars in a gothic
structure. They formed a greenish vault through which shone a strong shadowy
light cut in places by oblique sunrays, like a cruelly indulgent lamp lighting
up a pond crawling with larvae, or the monstrous skeleton of a bossk leaning
against a stump, its sniggering head fallen by its side on a mattress of rotten
leaves. Further away a carnivorous plant was voluptuously shaking its
tentacles, like a depraved oriental dancer twisting her limbs under the
spotlights of a theatre...

Sinister
stories were shared, such as what happened to the first scouts when they set
off looking for the way to the Plateaus. Often, exhausted by the climate, their
eyes blurred with sweat and their heads buzzing with hallucinations, they had
got lost in the jungle. There, deprived of female Oms for such a long time,
they really thought they could see a lascivious dancer behind a bush. Forward
they went, their hands stretched out towards the plant adorned with all
possible seductions, succumbing to a delicious and fatal embrace, emptied of
their blood by the plants' suckers, their faces gnawed by the corollas' acidic
kisses.

Reassured by
their number, the migrants laughed loudly shaking their heads and turning their
eyes away surreptitiously to look elsewhere and quickly changing the subject.

Every two
stadia twenty porters climbed on the back of a tank to rest their legs. They
actually swapped
one exhaustion
for another: so as not
to slide off because of the vehicle's jolts they had to cling in unimaginable
positions and it was almost a relief when two stadia further they left their
place for others.

After a few
gibes and winks were flashed at the female Oms inside the tank and smiles for
the children, they jumped on the ground and once again loaded their burden on
their shoulders.

At the
fiftieth stadia came the first staging post. There, settled in the gaping mouth
of a cave toothed with stalactites, one thousand Oms greeted another fifteen
thousand.

Each washed
in the water of a torrent foaming at the bottom of the cave. Doctors dressed
wounds, delivered babies and examined the children one by one. Supplies were
handed out and everyone fell asleep.

The Oms
nodded off in a deep slumber, lulled by hope. Nine stages to go and they will
see the new city!

The Aedile
wanted to lead by example. He had walked like the others and carried his load,
two heavy vials of vaccine padded in a package of leaves.

Lying on a
heap of dry grass he was sleeping like a log when the roar of engines bounced
off the cave's walls, echoing thunderously.

Headlights
pierced the darkness; feverish voices could be heard and Terr found himself
standing eyes half shut, before realising an Om had woken him up by tapping him
on the shoulder.

'What...
what?' he said in a muffled voice.

'Aedile,
this is a patrol!'

Terr rubbed
his eyes.

'A... yes, so what?'

He realised
another Om was there too.

'Patrol 4
leader!' the Om cried out. 'We're escorting two hundred Oms to relieve staging
post 1. An hour ago we came across a bossk. I had all the engines stop so as
not to irritate it, yet it still attacked us.'

'We shot and
injured it but it still managed to squash two tanks and burn three quarters of
the Oms. We went full speed ahead and we've come to warn you. It's tracking us
and seems to know where it's heading. If we don't stop it it'll be here in
fifteen minutes. I'm requesting the support of twenty tanks to go and face it.'