| Generated by Pollo AI text-to-video AI software |
When the saviors—whoever exactly they were—rescued the would-be victims of
the 1815 Mount Tambora eruption, they only took those whose bodies would
never have been recovered. They know this, because lots of people did die
from that catastrophe, even all across the world, due to secondary effects,
and no survivor left on Earth reported seeing magical beings come down and
whisk certain people away. They were missing and presumed dead, most likely
vaporized. The Kingdom of Tambora was closer to the volcano, so the history
books have written them off as wiped out. In reality, they were brought here
to Bungula, for some reason over 400 years in the future. That’s what some
people currently living on Yana believe. To the rest of the galaxy, the
original Yana islanders must have been an isolated population of colonists,
who came to this planet in ships like everyone else, then later made up
superstitious stories about their origins. Yana Islanders have accepted the
more rational explanation for the most part. Some of them reject the lore so
strongly, though, that they leave the island as Kinkon. Only some still
believe, and out of them, the majority live in Tambora.
Fewer people were rescued from Pekat and Sanggar, but they have maintained
their own culture here too. They don’t have Houses, they don’t care about
the Tamboran Houses, they don’t have anything to do with any of this. They
occupy a smaller portion of the island because their population remains a
smaller fraction, but they have their own things going on, and certainly
their own problems. Still, a few hundred sixteen-year-olds isn’t too much to
deal with. Surely one of them will agree to take them in as refugees.
Members of House Kutelin don’t have to stay together. It would be
nice, but Resi is prepared to be flexible in case their neighbors aren’t.
That’s why he has asked to meet with them at the same time, so they can all
three work this out together.
Resi stands when they enter simultaneously, likely having been discussing
matters away from him beforehand. “Ambassador Churchill,” he says with a
nod. “Ambassador Cortez. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me. I apologize
if our customs are incompatible. If there is anything I should do or say,
please let me know. My studies focused primarily on agriculture. We were not
taught much of your cultures.”
“It’s fine, Mr. Brooks,” Churchill assures him. “Let us sit.”
They’re at the triangle table. It looks about as you would expect. It’s
usually for the Tambora ambassador to sit on this side, but if she has an
issue with it, she can climb the hill and complain. He focuses on keeping
his breath steady. “I believe that you two know why I am here, so in lieu of
pitching it to you formally, I thought I would give you the opportunity to
speak first. Unless, that is, you do want to hear a speech.”
“That’s all right,” Cortez agrees. “We have been talking amongst each other,
but cannot give an answer until we know a little bit more information. The
last we were told, there were three hundred and thirteen of you?”
“There are three hundred and fifty-five now, since it took a couple of days
for you two to become available for this meeting.”
They both consult their devices. “Forgive me,” Churchill begins, “but we
were to understand that your number was static. The Tamboran Assembly claims
to have put an end to the new system, and reverted back to the old one.”
Resi nods. “They’re trying to do that, yes, but they’re struggling. Kids are
excited to join us, and we have not been turning them away. If they skip
their Kidjum, and come right to House Kutelin, we always open our doors. So
far, the Assembly has not been arguing with us about it. The ceremony Kokore
has...remained on my side of things, which makes reinstituting the Kidjum a
somewhat complicated endeavor. I believe they are secretly relieved to have
the extra time to get things back up and running.”
“Do you anticipate further defection?” Cortez presses.
“We don’t use that word,” Resi replies, “but as I said, we’ve been opening
our doors to those in need. That is how I was raised. My family once took in
a Bungulan who came here for vacation when there was no more space at any of
the resorts.”
A brief awkward pause.
Cortez went on, “you understand that we are already reluctant to extend a
hand, and risk instigating tensions with the Tamboran Assembly.”
“The Assembly has no problem with it,” Resi insists, hoping it wasn’t too
rude to interrupt. He just needs them to understand this before they start
arguing more, because he knows what their real concern is. “We’re not
fugitives or war criminals. We’re exiles. They want us to find somewhere to
live. The stratified system that they use in their economy is not conducive
to the introduction of an additional house. There are no jobs left. Your
systems are more fluid, allowing us to fill in the gaps wherever necessary
while maintaining our distinct culture association.”
“We appreciate that,” Churchill says. “But if your numbers are increasing,
it makes our decision harder. We do not have infinite resources, nor
infinite jobs. The Pekat are also facing a mild distribution issue with our
own population. The island is only so large, and we are never not
negotiating the size of our fractions of it.”
Cortez nods. “Sanggar is running out of space as well. I don’t know if you
know this, but 300 years ago, Tambora reserved the best land for themselves.
They can dig down in certain regions. You have basements and high rises. We
don’t have that luxury.”
“We have had to maintain strict population control,” Churchill concurs, “so
we do not exceed our allotment. We may be able to take in a few dozen of
your people.”
“Us as well,” Cortez agrees.
Churchill continues with the same breath, “but that’s only if those we take
in are willing to live on the harsh Tambora border, and build their own
infrastructure.”
“That is unacceptable,” Resi says with a shake of his head. “I can’t leave
any of my people behind. There’s nowhere to go.” He takes a breath
before he says something unbecoming of an ad hoc ambassador. “Let’s think
this through. You need more space.” He taps on his heart. “We do too. Point
to the map. Show me where they can build basements that’s closest to your
borders. My former Maing’aing are excellent engineers. They can whip up a
new building in a matter of weeks.”
“Nowhere on our side of the border is dig-worthy.” Churchill stands now. “I
know the geography well enough to say the same for Sanggar.”
“It doesn’t have to be on that side. It just has to be close, and we’ll
annex it. We don’t have anything over there. The border isn’t a heavily
trafficked area. They might as well give it to us, and by extension you. But
we need your support to do that.”
The Ambassadors look at each other, appearing to share a telepathic
conversation before Cortez looks back over at Resi. “I’m sorry, but we
simply cannot risk conflict with Tambora. Taking land on your way out isn’t
really exile, is it? You’ll have to find another way. It looks like you are
no longer welcome anywhere on Yana.”
