Fo:E Xenophobia

Chapter Two: Xenolith
"The time has come for us to reconnect with the spirits of our ancestors. They do not hear us behind these steely walls."

Judgment.

It was something I was becoming far less likely to employ effectively these days. I awoke the next morning on a hard bench I somehow found my way onto in the night. My brain was clamoring and squealing again. The clanging of my cell door being opened sent cast a sharp pain through my ears. Today I was to be judged before the High Priestess and her council. Most infractions were just left up to security to rough up offenders but my list of crimes had been adding up. Two tribal guards, the same two from the prior day in fact, were escorting me from the old Stable's holding cell to the High Priestess's temple.

Her temple was the centerpiece of the village our tribe had built in grove outside Stable Forty-Seven. My parents, the High Priestess and all of the zebra old enough to work began construction of it many years ago when the Stable door was first opened.

There was a tunnel beyond the Stable gate that had been dug into the cliff side. This made up the hidden entrance to Stable Forty-Seven. The end of the tunnel led to a centuries old ramshackle wood door. It emptied into a vast clearing completely surrounded by a dense forest of long dead trees. Stable zebra had ever seen 'outside' before. Their PipBuck's auto-map somehow identified this clearing as Runner's Folly.

Weapons in maw the first of our tribemares explored the surrounding area finding no signs of life short of the scrubland which dotted the otherwise lifeless patch. The cliff side was made up of rough chiseled slates of red and brown. In the center of the grove sat a great stone taller than most zebra and its odd colorations suggested it had not naturally occurred there. It was hard and rough with a black glossy sheen. The High Priestess explained to us the foreign looking stone was an omen sent by the ancestors to tell us the zebra could exist in this ruined pony world. The strange rock stood in the center of the grove immovable and unbreakable.

Above those brave zebra who first ventured out was an endless blanket of cloud and toxic haze. None had ever seen a ceiling so high in their life. We had pre-war books that depicted the sky but none were prepared for the vast reality of it overhead. Children were never allowed to go beyond the Stable entrance so I never saw the sky until well after my glyph appeared. I was struck in such awe at it's highness that I could only imagine what the first teams of our tribesmares thought when they first stepped out the door. The first time I saw the sky I remember thinking of how impossibly far away it was. The clouds seemed so distant that if I had wings I could fly towards it forever and never reach them.

Then there was Whitetail. All that it had been was dead, and yet it was very much alive. The vegetation was a shadow of what once was as if the mutated plants were trying to emulate the trees that once grew here somehow striving to preserve Whitetail's memory. Aside from being irradiated the perverse trees that grew here were harmless enough. The twisted gnarled roots and branches were at best only enough to strike fear into that of a schoolfilly. There were reports however of certain plant life that could poison and kill, growths that discharged clouds of choking deadly spores, and vines that snatched explorers by the throat while suffocating the life out of them before reseeding itself into its victims bodies. There were even fully ambulatory plants with massive jaws that could devour a zebra scout whole. No one had ever thought such horrors could have ever existed.

And that was just the flora: do not get me started on the fauna. It was said that all manners of unthinkable radiation-altered beasts lived inside. Giant carnivorous spiders hung in the trees just waiting to feast on anyone unlucky enough to stumble beneath them. Beavermoles threatened from the underbrush with jaws that could snap a zebra's legs clean off in a single bite. Ravenous mutated bears inhabited the woods near the subterranean caves found throughout Whitetail. One intrepid warrior even claimed to have seen a golden bird that burned green with balefire surge through the treetops. She was charred and broken when she crawled back into town as only the survivor of her detachment. Those were just some of the terrifying creatures anyone lived to tell about. We could only guess what other ghastly beasts lived out there. Then of course there were the Rad-Bees.

Rad-bees made the honey that helped promote our tribe's survival. The Stable orchard was functional and well maintained but as our numbers continued to grow our need for sustainable rations increased along with them. Rad-bee hives were massive amber colored domes that swallowed the terrain and anything around them. Three sometimes even four or more zebra could comfortably fit inside a single chamber of the hive. The bees themselves were a terrifying sight. From head to end of their jagged blade-like stingers they measured greater than the size of a stallions hoof. The venom from a single sting could paralyze and mortally wound its victim. Radiation protective armored barding, rebreathing masks, and smoke sprayers were all needed just to survive the foraging journeys. Not only was Whitetail littered with murderous plants and animals the forest itself was so irradiated in some areas that strongest of protective gear would serve only as a burial shroud for the wearer.

Over the years following the door opening our village was formed. The name the ponies once gave this place was unfit for the zebra that now dwelled here. The High Priestess declared our village be named for the strange stone that laid within: Xenolith.

*** *** ***

I was marched from the detention cell through the core of the Stable Forty-Seven. I trailed morosely behind the two guards tugging at the collar around my neck. There was really nowhere for me to run or hide even if I was inclined to do so. The collar and reigns did seem a bit excessive. More likely this was a form of public punishment. They caught me: they had possession of me until I was turned over to the hooves of the High Priestess. It was a harrowing journey. It did not help that the detention center was deep within the second level of Stable Forty-Seven. Scornful glares shot from every mare and stallion we passed in the halls and I was meant to feel each one of them. My striped face glowed red with the embarrassment and ridicule I faced. We turned heading up towards the Stable door foyer which had remained open since the days I was a young foal.

Grim light penetrated through the large metal portal. The tunnel sent a foreboding invitation to the village of Xenolith. My pace slowed briefly in the foyer at the sight of the tunnel beyond the gate. I received a throttle from the guards who insisted I keep pace.

"Get a move on now Zythus," the gaurdsmare bellowed glaring back at me. "You will not be the only one facing the wrath of the High Priestess if we are late to your sentencing."

The stallion guard who carried the other reign pulled harder on my collar knowing his partner was right.

A ramp improvised from an old section of steel wall led up and over through the Stable door and up the dusty shaft. The proverbial black cloud over my head was growing and getting darker as we exited the cave dug into the cliff side. We passed through the tunnel and emerged into the village of Xenolith.

Once outside I was met with more jeers and dissatisfied stares of my tribe members. I forced myself to look beyond them at the rest of Xenolith. Two watchtowers rose over each half of the town built of scrap salvaged from the depth of the Stable. Armed sharpshooters and lookouts were nestled at the top of each tower on constant alert should any of the woodland monsters find their way here. The immense beige and brown stone perimeter wall encased our village in a wide semi circle. Cottages built of stone and branch were scattered throughout the rural community. Xanthe and I once lived in the cottage closest to Xenolith's medical center which was further ahead near the front gate. That was before we were moved back into the Stable following the birth of Xelous our first son. Many of the modest looking buildings were places were the zebras of Xenolith went about there daily work assignments. There was a bakery, repair station, scrap yard, armor crafters, an armory and even a small radio station (which sadly was only a retransmission of the normal Stable frequencies) all now located in Xenolith. It was a bustling little post apocalyptic society.

Soon I found myself before the largest building in the center of town. The High Priestess's temple was the size of a palace compared to the other architectures in Xenolith. It was a long round structure whose door faced back towards the entrance of Stable Forty-Seven. Like the other buildings in Xenolith it had stone walls. Tarps strewn of cured animal hides hung from the four internal masts to form the roof. Heavy fabric curtains sewn together from scraps covered the entrance to the scared ground of the temple. Inside she and her counsel of advisors had probably already decided my fate. Any semblance of a trial would be for show, but it was more likely my judgment would be handed down immediately as an example of the unchallengeable authority of the High Priestess.

"Come along" the stallion guard said somberly. "Let us be done with this."

I followed along them in silence. We marched up the wood steps to the shrine and I was ushered in.

The temple interior was open and wide. Larger than any single room in the Stable except for maybe the atrium. The four beams that propped up the canopy were surrounded by dim candlelight. The wood floor was dry under my hooves a stark contrast of the chill dampness of the Stable floors. On either side of me were the dark robed priestess mares of the temple. They assisted in prayers and tribal ceremonies but other than that only seemed to be glorified hoofmaidens for the High Priestess herself.

A podium looking like it had pulled from the Stable sat on a stage at the far end of the room. The High Priestess majestically stood behind it in her regal headdress. Standing at her sides was her counsel of advisors. They had no real authority over the tribe but they were what they were. They were advisors to the High Priestess. Five mares and three stallions in all. Two of them were my mother and father. All eight of the counsel members bestowed the same unsympathetic gaze upon me. The two tribal guards tethered my reigns to the posts that rested before the stage. My head hung low and the ropes holding me slacked. My knees wanted to collapse under the weight of the heavy stares cast down from the stage. Then the High Priestess was ready to speak.

"Leave us!" her voice thundered.

The magnitude of her speech seemed to make the great hall shrink in the way it filled its chamber. I felt my legs buckle as I endured to keep them upright. The two guards bowed there heads respectively and quietly dismissed themselves from the temple.

This was it. The High Priestess was clad in traditional zebra garb. She wore bright red and orange robes that could have been considered relics even before the war began and the Stable doors locked shut. Despite this they were remarkably well kept and preserved. Polished golden hoops adorned her ears, neck, and ankles above her PipBuck. In a younger time she was Stable Forty-Seven's Overmare. When the door opened she cast off the mantle of imperialist pony doctrine and put us back on the path to what the zebra people truly were. We were warriors, healers, philosophers, spiritual mediums, and master alchemists; she would restore our proud zebra heritage back to what it once was. The black had almost completely faded to grey in her bristly mohawked mane. Even though she was much older now than she was when our tribe first entered the grove, her will and spirit was more indomitable than ever. She was the most powerful mare in the world, and I was foalish enough to cross her.

My father and mother just sat there waiting for her to speak. Did they recognize who I was? Was I just another delinquent tribe member brought before the High Priestess to them? Could they even give me the courtesy of expressing an ounce of extra shame in me for being their only son? The eight council members lined the stage on either side of the High Priestess like statues.

"Raise your head Zythus and answer for your crimes!" she harshly demanded. I forced my body to comply and sorrowfully turned my gaze to her.

"Nine accounts of inebriated disorderly conduct. Seven accounts of workstation tardiness. Four accounts of work assignment delinquency. One account of theft of private property. One account of theft of tribal property. One account of unauthorized tampering of Stable technology."

The record of my misconduct was mounting. This was going to be more than filthy cleaning details or personal confinement. I was in for a public thrashing from the tribe constable or worse for sure.

"Zythus," she continued her demeanor almost expressing some semblance of mercy, "The zebra are an enduring and wise people. Our tribe tirelessly strives to work as one for our mutual survival. We are our culture's only remaining identity left in a lost world. Your father Xyxtus, and your mother Zoecia know the value they have to not only Xenolith but to the preservation of our society."

She stepped down from her podium and crossed the stage to the steps. Anywhere she stood the whole of her discourse filled the temple. "But you, you feel you can do as you please. You are a broken cog in an otherwise flawless machine." Her words shifted again becoming increasingly threatening. She began circling around my tethered body as if threatening to pounce and devour me at any moment.

"The welfare of Xenolith and the welfare of our tribe rest solely on my shoulders. When a cog in my machine fails it must either be repaired or replaced." she warned. "Do not be fooled young stallion," she went on marching down the stage towards my cowering body. "It is only because of the esteemed standing of your parents that I have been lenient with you in the past. But this has gone on long enough!"

"Zythus!" she continued, "your continued trying of my patience has come to an end. Your punishment will be as follows. As of sundown tonight you are hereby forbidden within the Stable walls. Furthermore you will be confined to the Xenolith correctional ward at all times when not performing your work assignment. Until I and the council have seen dramatic improvement in your ethic and attitude towards your tribesmares you will be assigned to the second honey foraging detachment."

No... this could not be happening. Not only was she taking me away from my Xanthe and my foals but assigning a weakling like me to a forest detachment. Some of the strongest, swiftest and most revered heroes of our tribe have fallen out in that forsaken blight. To me it was practically a death sentence!

My mind panicked having no idea how to react. Part of me just wanted to throw myself to the ground begging for clemency. I can change! I do not need this. Please. Please do not take my Xanthe and my beautiful colts away. I felt my soul already dying inside.

But all the shame and blubbery I, or anyone for that matter, could manage would be a futile gesture. The High Priestess had spoken. With that she took her leave of me and marched back to the podium.

"You have until sundown tonight to report to field marshal Zurma at the Xenolith barracks. Until then you are dismissed upon your own recognizance. Bid your farewells to your family and pack one saddle bag worth of supplies." the High Priestess announced. "Should you fail to report to Zurma by sundown you will be dealt with. Severely!" she added. "I am giving you this last chance to do right for your people: I suggest you take advantage of it." The High Priestess then raised her hoof and struck the podium solidly. "You are dismissed Zythus!"

I was still struck in awe of what had just transpired. The only things left for me in this life were being taken away. Xanthe... oh Xanthe how could I tell you what was going to happen to me. You would be alone to raise our foals without a father.

"And explain to me how that is different than what you are doing now?" I heard the voice in my head goad at me. "Face it. You are a dead beat and a loser: They are better of without you."

"You are dismissed!" the High Priestess bellowed. "Do not force me to repeat myself again" The booming of her voice nearly caused me topple over. I had not even realized two of the temple priestesses had unhooked my collar and untied the tethers. Disgraced I turned and trotted listlessly out of the temple gates.

*** *** ***

Back in the Stable my mind raced. I was so wrapped up in my own self torment I scarcely noticed the reactions of the other zebras within against bleakness of the walls. Parents shielded their fillies and colts eyes from my presence. Gossiping whispers were exchanged between the elder mares and stallions who walked its halls. Anyone could tell from the pallor expression on my face I wore that something awful had happened. They way they stared one may have thought I had lost the black in my stripes.

I glanced at the time indicator on my PipBuck. I knew Xanthe was at her work assignment and could not be disturbed. Little Xelous and Quagga would be under their grandmother's (mother's side) supervision, playing with foal-like innocence unable to comprehend they may never see their father again. How could I be ready to face my wife to tell her I would never be able to see her and our foals again: that I would most certainly be poisoned, mutilated or devoured on my first expedition into Whitetail.

That was when the reality finally sunk in. Was I was being sent into the woodland to die? Father and mother were essential building blocks to the continued progression of the tribe. I was tarnishing their distinguished appearance. My very existence was a danger to the tribe. The High Priestess, as powerful as she was, could not risk the contempt of my parents by having me executed or banished (whose difference was purely semantic). Although just by seeing their performance at my sentencing I believe the High Priestess could have sliced my throat with her hoofblade in the middle of my sentencing. I could have bled out right there on the temple floor without so much as a shrug from either of them. Resigned to this fact I clopped gingerly back towards my soon to be former Stable dormitory.

My invisibility cloak!

How could I have forgotten? I sensed the smallest glint of hope and I altered my course to the old empty maintenance closet I had escaped to the day before. It still had to be in there right? No one aside from Xanthe and my parents knew I had one. No one would have thought to look for it in there. I innocuously paced the hall where the closet was located until no one else was nearby. Once clear I flung open the door and practically leapt inside to only be greeted by a stagnant foul odor. The squishing under my hooves instantly confirmed two suspicions. One, I had my first round of sickness before being dragged from this room. Two, the guards neglected to inform any cleaning personnel about it.

I quickly put the unpleasantness of this revelation behind me and began sweeping the corners of the room with my tail.

Unlike many stallions of the tribe I let my tail grow long. It was considered proper for a stallion to keep his tail short. As a schoolcolt my favorite story was of Xerxes the legendary zebra warrior. It was the tale of a courageous zebra who died fighting to free our people in a conflict over many a millennia ago. It was said that after he was killed he travelled into the Zeal where he pled with the ancestor spirits to be sent back to the mortal world. He offered to exchange an eternity of servitude to the spirits there in exchange for the ability to save his fellow zebra back home. The zebra ancestors of the spirit realm complied with Xerxes's selfless wish. They returned him to the world of the living clad in powerful ethereal armor. It granted Xerxes wondrous powers with which he was able to smite those who sought to enslave his people. When the battle was over and the zebra people were free the ancestor spirits called out to Xerxes from the Zeal. He bid a final farewell to the grateful members of his tribe and was never heard from again. What was fact or fiction was lost to the annals of history but he was always depicted as having a long tail.

My long tail did well for me today as I breathed a sigh of relief when it brushed upon the clandestine fabric of my invisibility cloak. To add to my delight, the tools I 'borrowed' from the stall yesterday were still wrapped up inside as well. I curled my tail around the invisible makeshift pouch and did my best to wipe off my hooves before optimistically trotting out the door.

*** *** ***

I had returned to the tiny emptiness of my dormitory home. No Xanthe or sounds of screaming colts terrorizing the modest living space. Just me trying to think of anything, any kind of plan to survive the sentence levied upon me by the High Priestess. Invisibility cloak in tow I felt I actually had a chance. The saddlebag which had been confiscated from me yesterday had found their way home and were sitting on our little metal table. Upon inspecting them it looked as though my Xanthe had spent several hours mending the tears in the cloth and replaced the long worn clasps on the flaps. Despite all the grief I caused her she still was still looking out for me. I felt guilty of how undeserving I was of her kindness.

Trying to decide what to take with me to the correctional ward was a disheartening experience. Aside from the common amenities our quarters held Xanthe and I had very few possessions of our own. All traces of libations we kept had inconspicuously been removed from our home. I stared down into my saddlebag realizing I had only packed a hairbrush, a blanket, a towel, a few photos of Xanthe and our two foals and my cloak which I carefully folded around the PipBuck technician tools as to hopefully keep them unnoticed.

I check of my PipBuck told me Xanthe would be finishing her work for the meadery soon. If I had ever had the resolve to speak to her directly of the punishment handed down by the High Priestess it had already crumbled. In a brazen act of cowardice I dug out a pencil and clipboard and began writing franticly.

To my beloved Xanthe...

I hastily scribbled the goodbye letter to my wife, telling everything that happened and assured her I would find someway to safely return to her and our foals. It was a promise too far out my league to keep but I needed to leave her some kind of hope. I was running out of time.

*** *** ***

I galloped through the halls of Stable Forty-Seven at breakneck speeds. I realized this was not ideal for trying to keep from drawing attention but sundown was drawing near and I was not about to risk further reprimand by being late to my own sentence. Moreover I was afraid that Xanthe would find me in the halls and that I would have to confront her face to face. I wanted to see her smile more than anything but I was far too below her to welcome it now.

I passed up the ramp through the steel doorway of the Stable and the tunnel that led back to Xenolith. I was relieved to see the light of the sun's rays still beaming through the dense cloud cover. Slightly relaxing my pace I made my way through Xenolith towards the barracks. A lithe mare in goggles was resting her forelegs over the fence outside.

"Well well, you must be the new 'recruit' are you not?" she smiled evilly as she spoke. "For someone who has garnered himself a reputation of being late you certainly are early. 'Tis a shame, for I was looking forward to starting you off with a few good lashings."

Oh I liked her already...

"You are Zurma correct?" I replied realizing that was really the only audible speech I had uttered in almost two days.

Zurma was a tall lean zebra mare. She wore lightweight brown leather barding and carried a menacing looking crop under her hooves. Her glyph was an inverted equilateral triangle with three spirals in the interior. Scars on her legs, neck, and face told me she was probably no stranger to Whitetail. She had a fearsome presence. It reminded me of how I felt standing before the High Priestess.

"Right you are greenstripes. Now you listen closely," she said with an increasing ruthlessness in her tone, "from now on you will do as I tell you to do, you will eat when I tell you eat, and you will sleep when I tell you to sleep. Until the High Priestess says otherwise your ass is mine. Is there anything about what I said you do not understand greenstripes?"

"No... nothing at all" I felt my head and ears droop a little.

"Nothing at all sir!." she amended.

"Yes, of course sir."

"Good. Now march your sorry flank over to the correctional ward." she ordered, "Turn around. Move out!"

I got a distinct feeling she enjoyed the work she did for our tribe.

CRACK!!!

I the sting of her crop snapped squarely across the my hindquarters. The shock made me to jump so high I felt I could grasp at the clouds. I staggered but landed back on my feet, with a searing in pain on my rump. I looked back at Zurma in disbelief.

"Sorry greenstripes," she chuckled, "I felt cheated you arrived so early and I had to get one in."

She definitely liked the work she did for our tribe.

We trotted around the edge of the perimeter wall until we arrived at what seemed to be the most pathetic structure in all of Xenolith. Cracks littered stonework walls. There were gaping holes in the clay and branch roof. I could not tell if the building was in such disrepair because of how infrequently it was used or because it was left intentionally broken to add to its unwelcoming charm.

"Well here is your new home greenstripes. Feel free to make yourself comfortable." Zurma snickered. "See you bright and early greenstripes."

Warily I stepped inside the dilapidated hovel.

The inside was just as unimpressive. Six dingy mats of grass and leaves laid on the dirt floor. Feeling even less enthusiastic about my new incarceration I cautiously knelt down on the mat which appeared to have the most ceiling still covering it.

My flank burned from Zurma's lash had struck and it hurt just to sit down. Now the sun was beginning to set too. I needed a shower, I needed a drink, and I needed my Xanthe. I did not know if she was heartbroken or furious at me from the letter I left her. With her it was likely equal parts of both. I settled into what for now would be my home and retrieved the blanket from my saddlebag. I plugged in my PipBuck's earbloom to listen to one of father's recordings. Ah, this one was from his medical journals. This seemed like a skill I was going to find entirely too practical soon enough.

Footnote: Level Up.
New Perk: Fast Pack Buckles -- Accessing your inventory costs half AP.

Quest Perk: Chip off the old Buck -- Just like dear old Dad, you’ve devoted your time to intellectual pursuits. You gain an additional five points to both the Science and Medicine skills.