The Heart of Oleta

What Is Left Behind

          The boy drops the toy to his side and shoulder rolls forward to pick up another, the two figurines lock in combat. Spit flies from his mouth from the gnashing sound effects he's making. The boy's play is becoming unsightly.

"And your race will be extinct! Shing!" One soldier figurine slices down his sword, silencing his sworn enemy. The other person in the cell flinches at such a display.

"Archeleas," she calls from the other side of their cell. He looks up expectantly at the mention of his name. His eyelids blink and squarely reveal his pupils. "What were you taught today?" She inquires coolly; the warring play games were common enough in her son but this wish for extinction is new.

"I learned about the Imminent War, us against the Terrans. Teacher says we're going to extinct them."

"Going to make them extinct." With a sudden flattened voice she corrects his English grammar. The Imminent War. It holds an icy bite with its very name. He seemed too young to be learning about such gruesome things. Could they be so paranoid?

"Is it true," he asks, knowing sometimes his mother taught him differently than Teacher, "what the Terrans did to the Oletans?" A painful memory. At first, she shows no emotion in response. It is easier to not care at all than to relive the details of the falling out between Terrans and Oletans.

"Are you referring to the Red Night?"

"Yval ne Selvyn?" He asks in the Oletan tongue, Sulaka.

"Yes, Yval ne Selvyn." She confirms its haunting name.

"Did dad fight that night?" He asks expectantly. As he always does. "Like Neronaka ât Otalo, and Slikan ât Kame?!" Neronaka the Valiant, and Slikan the Fierce. "Did he fight along with Overkon?" He continues ranting. Hoping to receive even the slightest amount of information about his father. The glaze over her eyes tells him he will get no clear answer. He sets down his toys and makes his way over to her corner. She cannot go to him on the other side of the cell, her chains won't allow it.

"Mama, why did the Terrans do such terrible things to us?" As he says 'us', a chill goes through her. His double eyelids blink slowly, one set at a time. He's analyzing her face. She knows he doesn't include her as one of 'us'. She pulls her human eyes away from the cell wall to meet her sons'.

"Because your people mean nothing to us."

---

"Akleen," Traitor, she calls her. The title of a prisoner had become her new name. Though she is more like a slave than a prisoner, forced to act as a servant in order to be useful. Such a large debt she had incurred, merely rotting away in a cell was not enough for reparations.

"Yes?"

"Archeleas is gone."

"Yes. He stayed in our cell today."

"For what purpose?" She asks slowly; English is difficult for her. Even though the akleen knew very well their native tongue, the noblewoman wanted no reminder of how connected they had been before. She wanted no reminder of how they were alike in any way.

"Last time he made a mess."

"The fault was yours." The noblewoman defends the boy without regard to logic. Spoiled child, they praised him blindly. The Overkon and Odelian, but especially Odelian. It is hard to fill the void of a lost child, and somehow the woman of the house thinks that having Archeleas around more often would fill that void. His childlike joy and vivacity sometimes seemed the only living hope in this cold household. Sometimes this whole planet. His mother, however, knew Archeleas was just a boy. And boys needn't be idolized.