Children of Chaos

Leading up to the moment when the Groundlings rebelled and the Palace crashed, intelligent life aboard the spaceship included Preservers, Groundlings and High Ones.

As far as their involvement in the rebellion, I see these beings falling into the following groups:

Loyal to the High Ones, the Preservers knew nothing about the Groundling's plans.

Some of the High Ones were in suspended animation at the time of the rebellion.

The remainder of the High Ones were unaware of the Groundling's plans, or else they would have acted to prevent the rebellion.

The Groundlings varied according to opinions and awareness.

There were enough Groundlings either planning or going along with the rebellion to initiate it, regardless of how it ended.

Other Groundlings were aware of their fellows' plans to different degrees. They may have either heard or overheard plans, or they may have heard only rumors. These Groundlings had no interest in taking action against the High Ones, for a variety of personal reasons.

The remaining Groundlings had no idea that anything was going on. Some had jobs that kept them away from their peers for most of their waking hours.

Is there a new story starting?

Yes... ...

For the sake  of  this story, the  Palace  is like Dr. Who's TARDIS.

Images  of  the  Palace  from  the  outside, in the ice and in the Sun Village, always  confused me.  It doesn't  look big enough  to  hold as many people  and chambers as it does.

Therefore  I am going  to  assume  it's  big enough  to  accommodate  the  situations in the story, and  that  there  are  many  different  chambers  for  different  purposes.

The High Ones and the Groundlings had separate living quarters.  Because of their size, the Groundlings worked in areas in which furniture and equipment were scaled to their use.  Ceilings, however, were high enough for the High Ones to move around anywhere in the Palace.

(Edit:  Trollhammer clarified in "Silly Questions" that the Palace included secret tunnels known only to the Trolls.  I am going to give the rebellious Groundlings access to these tunnels.  This will help explain why they escape the Palace and flee long before the second group of Groundlings evacuates.  By the time my characters make it to the exit, the High Ones, Preservers and rebellious Groundlings are gone, and the humans have returned to their camp, probably just as scared as everyone else.)

(Edit: The Palace is going to have furniture and fixtures similar to what we use. For example, the bathrooms have shower heads, tubs, sinks, bidets and toilets, and are supplied with soap and towels.)

I'm also going to assume that the High Ones came up with the name "Groundling," and that the Groundlings and their descendants never called themselves by this name.

In addition to this, I am going to refer to measurements of time in modern terms.  That is, I will use "years" rather than "turns of the season", and for the sake of clarity, time will be measured in single-lunar months, and in weeks, days, hours, minutes and seconds.

By the time of this story, the dinosaurs are gone, and the World of Two Moons has Earth-like deposits of plant and animal fossils, coal, petroleum and natural gas.

(Edit: Some dinosaurs might remain, as the Wolfriders encountered at least one.  They aren't a significant part of the ecosystem, though.)

Petroleum occurs on the surface as deposits of pitch, a useful substance.  Large deposits form tar pits, which can trap animals.

Shuffling through the books and mounted manuscripts in the Fox Caverns library, Cowl came across an odd device that looked like two rolling pins wrapped in parchment.

It was placed upright in an ornate case, set apart from the books.

"You'd like to take a look?" asked the librarian.

He was tall and thin for a Troll.  The deep lines in his face revealed a lifetime of laughter and smiles.

"Yes," Cowl replied hesitantly, hoping she had not stumbled upon some ancient secret of the Fox Mountain clan.

Cowl looked on with fascination as Bravery laid the strange object at one end of a long, narrow table.

Her eyes grew wide with fascination as he rolled one of the two pieces along the length of the table.  They parted to reveal a long strip of pages, sewn together like a ribbon.

The pages gleamed with vivid colors, accented with gold leaf.  The calligraphy was exquisite.

Cowl had only recently learned to read.  The ornate capitals confused her, as did the arrangement of the text, spread out and connected by different colored lines.

"It's our geneology," said Bravery, "All the way back to the Firstcomers, although they have far more descendants than would fit in ten of these scrolls."

"Scrolls?" asked Cowl?

"It's what Trolls used at first, before we invented codex binding.  Legend has it that the Palace held something similar."

Beautiful, but impractical, thought Cowl.  She could see why her Fox Caverns friends had transitioned to books.

It took amost an hour for Cowl to understand the arrangement of the information on the scroll, moving sideways from one of the posts to the other.

It reminded her of the arrangement of numbers in mathematics, another skill she had picked up since becoming a part of the Fox Cavern community.

"So those are all names," she said, "from the first generation, to the present."

"Not quite that far," said the librarian, gesturing across the room.

"The current population, as well as the last few generations, are in those volumes on the census shelves."

"The names are certainly different," said Cowl.  She browsed the lenght of the scroll, from the latest to the oldest.

"Ah, and times were different as well," said Bravery.  "Even since my youth."

"I noticed names like yours, toward the end of the Scroll," said Cowl.  The librarian motioned her to sit with him at a bench adjacent to the long table.

Cowl listened intently as Bravery shared the early history of her adopted people.

"You recall that the firstcomers were brought here against their will, and were stranded here by accident, along with their masters, the High Ones."

Cowl nodded.  She had learned all about the High Ones.  According to one legend, they had abandoned their worn-out world, carrying with them the ancestors of the Trolls.

"The firstcomers were kept as servants.  The High Ones gave them servant names, like Tailor and Gardener and Butler."

Butler, thought Cowl.  Every Troll child knew his name.  There it was, gleaming in blue and gold, on the first page of the scroll.

"Some changed their names eventually.  Others lived out their names under their servant titles."

"In Butler's case, it might have been because he always saw himself as a servant.  He was proud of his role in life.  He just changed masters."

"What about those three?" asked Cowl.  She pointed to names at the beginning of the scroll that had no lines attached.

"Not everybody made it in the World of Two Moons," the librarian responded.

They sat in reflection for a moment.  Then Bravery continued.

"Once they established themselves in Fox Mountain, our ancestors worked to build a better life for their children and grandchildren."

"They built a physical community, with mines, farms and workshops, but they also built a free society."

"In order to give their children the values they needed to kep each other strong and free, they gave them names to which they would have to aspire."

Cowl followed his finger as he pointed out names like Discipline, Charity, Dependable, Justice, Humble, Constance...

"And Bravery!" added Cowl.  "You were part of that tradition, weren't you?"

The old librarian chuckled.

"I was one of the last of that tradition," he said, "although I didn't choose an occupation worthy of my name."

"Once we secured for ourselves and our descendants a measure of security and prosperity, we began giving children names to show how much we treasure them.

"Throughout the census, you'll see names like Amethyst, Keenblade, Nightingale, Blossom and Golden."

Cowl's attention was drawn to a few odd names toward the end of the scroll.

"Crooknose? Bandyleg?  Who would give their children names like that?"

Bravery sighed.

"Not everyone was born into our community," he explained.

"Some Trolls escaped, or were cast out, from hostile clans dominated by a long succession of tyrants."

"They asked refuge, and we gave it to them.  However, as we did in your case, we watched a long time before we judged them trustworthy."

Cowl smiled as Bravery gently rolled up the ancient scroll and replaced it in its case.  The privilege of being counted among the free Trolls was a gift beyond measure.

Ladle snipped green sprigs from the herb that Ginger provided.  He set each sprig at the same angle on the upper left of each dish.

The sprigs were uniform in size, like the scoops of orange vegetable mash sprinkled in just the right amount of red spice powder.

Chief would be pleased.  He was a master of dinner plate composition.

Ladle hoped to reach the same level of skill someday, although he doubted the High Ones would ever notice.

Their specialty was talking on and on about where they thought they were going.

It was best to keep such thoughts to himself.  Ladle checked with Baker on the progress of the dinner rolls before busying himself with the linens.

The laundress who delivered the tablecloths and napkins had been quieter than usual.  She was generally more open with her opinions of the "Fancy Ones."

Ladle couldn't remember how long he had followed the same meal preparation routine.  Habit freed his mind to think, to imagine.

As much as they talked of new discoveries, the High Ones lacked imagination when it came to everyday life.

Ladle wondered what it might be to create entirely new dishes from new ingredients.

What if everyone sat on the floor around a massive platter of food and ate with their hands?

What if the main dish were saturated in flammable liquid and set ablaze?

What if the food was spread upon a crust of bread that served as an edible plate?

Could fruit be served frozen on a stick?

Ladle sighed.  Had he voiced these ideas, the High Ones would pat his head and call it nonsense.

The serving pieces were stored in a small room with the pots and appliances. Ladle sorted through them, looking for a particular slotted spoon.

He heard the distant jingling sound he thought was Ella practicing her dance to Piper's handbells.

The jingling became louder.  Then the plates began to rattle.

Feeling suddenly unsteady, Ladle grabbed the counter and tried to maintain his footing.

High above, a massive steampot slipped from its shelf and crashed upon the crown of Ladle's head.

                         * * * * * * *

Vines that needed pollinating were the responsibility of Dan, the master gardener.

In his apron were tools just for this purpose, as well as the finest gardening tools in the Palace.

Gardener, his apprentice, was entrusted with much of the training and pruning that Ginger was just beginning to learn.

Dan's workday was a quiet one, spent in observing plants, making decisions, acting upon them and and giving occasional instructions.

His crew learned mostly by watching him and by looking at his work.

Gardener and Ginger reserved their questions for mealtimes spent in the Groundling's dining hall.

Dan was a devoted mentor who shared knowledge, praise, criticism and encouragement with equal kindness.

Ginger was occupied with sharpening tools as Gardener and Dan worked on vines. She filed the edge of a shovel, taking care to keep the cutting edge even.

Meanwhile Gardener was checking the base of a vine for sucker growth.

Standing firmly on a platform at the top of a trellis, Dan was pinching back blossoms with less fruiting potential, and pollinating the remainder with a tiny brush.

He didn't feel the first tremor.

The second shock wave sent him plummeting to the floor.  He landed squarely on the base of his neck.

(This is a work in progress.  Please alert me to any typos or story errors.)

After examining them for soil or wear, Butler hung up his uniform and his work undergarments.  He stepped into his bath slippers, wrapped himself in a coarse towel, and entered the communal bathroom attached to the male workers' quarters.

Butler enjoyed a long hot shower as much as any other Groundling.  Yet he scrubbed himself hastily and diligently from scalp to toes, keeping his back turned to the rest of the room.

It didn't make sense, he thought, that he felt uncomfortable exposing his lower parts to the other males.  The engineers didn't seem to care, and even failed to notice their own buttocks peeping out when they squatted over their repairs.

Butler dried himself off, donned his towel and slippers, and pinched a lock of his red hair thoughtfully.  He would need to ask Anna to give it another good trim.

Butler's hair curled when he allowed it to grow more than a finger's thickness.  He had long since grown weary of the High Ones stroking his hair, admiring his curls and even plucking at them to see them spring back.

He recalled Anna quietly voicing annoyance that she and Hannah had been given rhyming names.  Sometimes the High Ones even got them confused, even though they had different tasks.

"Maybe they can't tell us apart," Hannah once suggested.

Butler dressed in casual clothes that Tailor had made for him, a short tan pullover smock and a pair of pajama-like trousers, all made from a tan woven material similar to linen.  He dried his feet and fastened the Roman style sandals that Cobbler had made as casual footwear for all of the Groundlings.

No trade existed among the Groundlings, but Hannah and Butler often shared leftover food with those who did them favors.  The High Ones either didn't know, or didn't care, as long as the Groundlings worked in harmony and completed their chores on time.

Lately the High Ones had been so absorbed in their plans, Butler and Hannah had more free time, as did Ella.

The three friends gathered for a leisurely meal in the servant's mess, lingering a while to chat.  There wasn't much to discuss, and Butler wasn't prone to gossip.  But he somehow enjoyed the company of females over that of some of his rough, sullen colleagues.

Hannah and Ella wore ankle-length smocks, identical except for color.  Hannah's had faded from bright red to pink.  Butler noticed how Anna's faded blue garment almost matched her eyes, while it set off her pale gold hair.

"Butler," asked Hannah, "have you ever thought of a name you would give yourself, if you could choose your own name?"

The Groundling was taken aback.  Such a question hadn't occurred to him for a long time.

"Once," he replied, "just as a flight of fancy."

Ella sighed as Hannah continued.

"We talk about it often.  The High Ones gave Anna and I rhyming names for their amusement.  They thought it would be cute."

Butler looked cautiously over his shoulder.  He rubbed his face, as if feeling the exasperation the two women shared.

The three companions looked up to see Scamper approaching.  Adept at climbing, the systems engineer had earned a name the High Ones considered equally cute.

Ella receded into her chair as Hannah and Butler greeted Scamper.  She showed obvious relief as he continued on his way.

"What's your problem with him?" asked Hannah.

"Nothing personal, I hope," added Butler.  Conflicts among the High Ones' servants drew unpleasant attention from their masters.  Life was humiliating enough.

"He's a troublemaker," stammered Ella.  "Talks openly about rebellion."

The table was silent for a minute.  Other workers drifted out to attend to their duties.

Hannah spoke quietly.

"Seriously, how do you feel about our... situation?"

Butler shrugged.

"Could be worse," he said.  "We're fed, we're cared for, we have duties to occupy our minds, and plenty of leisure time."

"What more could we want?" asked Ella.  "All I really have to do is dress up and dance for their amusement.  Lately, they've been so preoccupied, I've had time to put up my feet and work on new moves."

"Things could improve," said Hannah.  "I've heard talk that we will be visiting a large planet, with a good atmosphere and gravity, and just enough sunlight to make it habitable."

There was silence as Butler and Ella imagined a world outside the Palace.

"If they let some of us leave," Butler suggested, "maybe we could survive.  Even thrive."

"Why would anyone want to leave?" said Ella.  "We have everything we will ever need, right here.  And we're safe here."

So we believe, thought Hannah.  Even the High Ones are capable of making mistakes.

"I don't follow Scamper's reasoning," said Hannah, looking around nervously.  "I agree, he's a troublemaker.  I don't want to fall in with him, and face the consequences of his scheming."

"But I agree with you, Butler.  If they form a landing party, and let some of us go with them, I'd be willing to consider staying behind.  What's the worse that can happen to us?"

"We could be torn apart by wild beasts," said Ella.  "We could starve, or die of disease."

"We could live long and exciting lives," said Butler.  "The point is, we would do so at our own discretion."

"Count me out," said Ella.  "I can live a long life right here."

Hanna changed the subject.  Eventually Piper joined them, and played a new tune as Ella rose up and danced.

Two of the Winged Ones, attracted to the music, twittered and floated around the dining hall in time to its beat.

Mesmerized, Butler watched Ella glide about in her bare feet.  How beautiful she would be, whirling under the moons and stars of a new land full of mysteries and wonders.

Hours later, Butler lay awake in his bunk.  In the darkness he heard the rhythmic breathing of several other male Groundlings, fast asleep, and the distant, steady hum of the Palace at rest.

He imagined a Palace, many times larger than the confines of the spaceship that had been his home for as long as anyone could remember.

He pictured chambers studded with sparkling stones, engineers toiling at making beautiful things of bright metal, and women weaving soft, colorful fabrics for Tailor.

There was jolly Piper, with a band of musicians, and Ella dancing in jewels and bright colors, and Hannah carrying baskets of luscious fruit.

And there was a circle of sturdy benches, in a warm, well-lighted chamber, where everyone would gather and sort out their problems, and plan their own destiny.

There would be respect, and dignity, and friendship.  And he would choose his own name.

***********************************************

Without a sun to mark them, days, months and years passed uncounted, except by the High Ones, and those engineers whose jobs depended upon schedules and time measurement.  Hannah cooked, Butler served, Piper played, Ella danced, Tailor sewed, and Ginger tended crops and harvested the food that Hannah cooked.

Ginger's hair was a lighter shade of red than Butler's.  She kept her long locks tightly braided, and wore sturdy overalls and boots when on duty.

The High Ones usually ignored her, but the Winged Ones sometimes pestered her.  Secretly she preferred their attention to that of her masters.

**********************************************

Following an evening meal, Butler, Hannah and Ginger gathered in the galley and talked for hours.  After dropping off a tub of ripe fruit, Ginger had stayed to help Butler and Hannah with the dishes.

The three enjoyed making up stories and jokes.  Ginger and Hannah ached to share ideas they had about cooking and gardening, ideas that their masters would never allow them to practice.  Creative thinking was the right and privilege of High Ones.

Butler listened intently, even when the ideas went over his head.  He treasured these times which fed his imagination.

Ginger returned to running errands as Butler and Hannah retired to their respective dormitories.

In the dim light of a common bedchamber, Hannah crept quietly to her bedside.  Anna, Ella and Selma were asleep, and someone was in the shower.

Hannah soothed her worn hands with the lotion that Ginger had given her long ago.  It smelled like the flowers Butler sometimes arranged in the High Ones' dining room.

As Hannah set aside the lotion and collected her nightgown and slippers, the room light flickered from dim to bright.

Hannah set down her nightclothes and waited for the flickering to stop.

It continued.  Hannah switched on a bedside lamp, to no avail.  The overhead light continued to flicker unevenly.

The sound of running water in the bathroom ceased abruptly.

************************************************

Getting no results from the faucet, Debra slapped the shower wall and muttered.  Nothing.  The bathroom lights were flickering as well.

Wiping the soap from her eyes, she groped her way to the sink, hoping to rinse her hair.

Suddenly the floor listed.  Debra grabbed the edge of the sink with both hands as her feet slid out from under her.

Water plumed from the sink and flowed onto the slick floor.  Debra scrambled to the doorway on her hands and knees.

Outside the bathroom, the bedroom carpeting gave her enough of a grip to rise to her feet.

Anna, Ella and Selma screamed and bolted upright in their beds.  The floor was rocking like a ship in rough waters.  The steady hum of the Palace turned to an uneven rumbling.

Naked, wet and dazed, Debra steadied herself in the bathroom door frame.  Anna, Ella and Selma climbed out of their beds and clung to each other in terror.

One, two, three, four, five, thought Hannah.  If we lose the lights, we can't lose each other.

Another tilt, and the water from the bathroom sink flowed into the bedchamber.   The beds remained anchored, but the pillow and mattresses were sliding onto the floor.

Cabinets swung open and spilled their contents. Hannah thought fast and snatched up a folded blanket.

She whipped the blanket outward, as if making a bed.

"Grab the corners!" she barked.

Not knowing what else to do, Anna, Ella, Selma and the shivering Debra seized the corners of the sturdy blanket.

With her discipline as a dancer, Ella was better able to keep upright and to keep moving, as Hannah led them to the dormitory exit.

Some of the doors were automatic.  Hannah didn't want to be trapped inside if they malfunctioned.  The bedchamber reminded her of the inner barrel of a laundry washer.

Outside the dormitory, the auxilliary lights glowed steadily.

Hannah let go of the blanket and steadied herself against a Palace wall.  Anna and Selma wrapped the blanket hastily around Debra.  Ella knotted it at Debra's shoulder like a toga.

They heard a whimper from the floor.  Tidy, returning from the High Ones' chambers, had stumbled to her hands and knees when the floor pitched.

Ella helped her to her feet.  Tidy was in tears.

Where was everyone else, thought Hannah.  Where were the engineers and the maintenance staff?  They should be hard at work, taking control of the situation.

The Palace jolted.  The six women dropped to the floor.

"Brace yourselves against the wall!"  Anna shouted, "Hands behind your heads!"

The women sat side by side along the base of the wall.  Selma was sobbing.  Tidy doubled over with dry heaves.

The High Ones are absent as well, thought Hannah.  Nothing to do but wait for orders, or for everything to stop moving. She wondered if Baker, Chief and Ladle were safe.