IR CLARKE: Daughters' Wrath

Daughters’ Wrath: Chapter Eight - The Die is Cast (Part 1)

Fri, 08 May 2026 10:21:54 GMT

IRC Note : Daughters’ Wrath is being edited right now. That means there will be continuity issues between the first chapters and later ones. One character will disappear, others may know more or less, some names may change. All part of the writing process!

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Amazon : The Song of Sidni Second Edition is now live on Amazon. This has US spelling (think bad behavior, no honor, collapsing civilization), and some reimaged scenes (such a battle told from a different Point of View…)

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Voyager

he clang of steel against hull woke Sali before dawn. She opened her eyes to the grey light filtering through the cabin porthole and heard boots on the deck above. Tyri’s voice, giving orders to the Seabots. His weapons were coming aboard.

She sat up, rubbing her face. Across the cabin, Hao was already awake, sitting on his bunk and staring at nothing. Neither of them had slept much.

“Morning,” she said quietly.

He looked over, managed a tired smile. “Morning. Ready for this?”

“No. You?”

“Not even close.” He stood, stretching. “But we’re doing it anyway.”

They climbed up to the deck. The eastern sky was turning pink, casting the towers of Sidni in silhouette. Tyri stood near the gangway, directing two Seabots as they carried crates below. His new sword was strapped across his back, and a quiver of arrows hung at his hip. He looked every bit the warrior, excited and eager.

“Morning, Captain,” he called out cheerfully. “Elder Sali, thanks for the bow and arrows. I’m sorting out the armoury. Father didn’t spare any expense.” He grinned.

“I’m coming with you.” Sali clarified. “That’s my bow.

Tyri glanced at Hao in confusion, who simply nodded. Tyri shrugged. An extra bow couldn’t hurt. “We could fight off a small army with what’s here.”

“Let’s hope we don’t need to,” Hao said.

Footsteps on the wharf drew their attention. Kali approached, a heavy pack on her back and her arms full of scrolls. She looked up at Voyager’s grey form, her face bright with anticipation. Then she saw Sali standing on the deck.

Kali stopped. Her expression shifted from excitement to confusion to something harder. “Mother? What are you doing here?”

Sali kept her voice steady. “I’ve joined the crew.”

“You’re doing what?” Kali climbed aboard, dropping her pack with a thud. “Why? You’re needed in the Moon lands. With Mohan.” She gestured helplessly.

“Pati asked me to come.” Sali met her daughter’s eyes. “I have experience with Old Times technology. The crew needs that.”

“What the crew needs is …” Kali’s jaw worked soundlessly. “Did you volunteer for this, or did Grandmother order you?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes, it matters!” Kali’s voice rose. “I finally get to do something important, something beyond copying old books, and you’re here to watch over me like I’m still a child.”

Tyri cleared his throat. “Kali, I agree with Pati and your mother. We don’t know what we’ll find out there. Her experience could save our lives.”

Kali glared at him, then at Sali. Finally, she grabbed her pack and stalked into the cabin without another word.

Sali closed her eyes briefly. This was going to be harder than she’d thought.

“She’ll come around,” Hao said quietly.

“Will she?”

Before he could answer, another voice called from the wharf. “Ahoy, Voyager! Permission to bring supplies aboard?”

A Carer stood at the gangway, a handcart loaded with extra water barrels from the Carers’ storehouse.

“Permission granted,” Hao called back.

The Seabots moved immediately, lifting the barrels with mechanical precision. Within minutes, everything was secured in the hold. The deck was clear. The sun had fully risen now, painting the bay in gold and blue.

Hao moved to the bridge console. He took a breath, placed his hand on the control panel. “Voyager. Let’s depart Waterloo Bay, and head for New Zealand.”

“Aye, Captain Wang,” Voyager replied, her voice calm and emotionless. “Destination: Auckland, New Zealand. Estimated journey time: thirty-eight hours.”

“Proceed.”

The engines hummed to life beneath their feet. The Seabots moved to the mooring lines with practiced efficiency, releasing them and coiling them on deck. Slowly, smoothly, Voyager turned away from the wharf.

Word had spread that Voyager was leaving on the long voyage. The people of Sidni lined the shore. Warriors stood at attention. Growers waved. Children pointed and shouted. Sali saw each of their faces, then their names. Every person in Sidni was logged and tracked.

Voyager was gliding south through the bay at a steady pace. The towers of Sidni dropped behind them. Tyri stood at the bow, one hand on the rail, grinning like a boy on an adventure. Kali emerged from below and stood near the stern, pointedly not looking at her mother.

A seagull landed on the bridge railing, cocking its head. The red glint in its eye flashed once. So, He had other eyes. Sali looked away deliberately, focusing instead on the approaching sea wall.

“The South Barrier,” Hao said, pointing ahead. “We’ll pass through the breach there.”

The ancient barrier rose from the water, a line of weathered stone that had once protected the bay. The Wave had smashed through at its weakest point, and sixty years of tides had broadened the breach. It lay directly ahead, a gap perhaps fifty metres wide where water from the bay churned and fought against the incoming tide.

On South Barrier Island, just visible through the gap, a Sea Tribe camp sprawled across the rocky shore. Figures moved among the huts and boats, watching Voyager approach.

“The current’s strong here,” Hao said, gripping the rail. “Voyager, increase speed.”

“Aye. Adjusting for tidal flow.”

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Daughters’ Wrath: Chapter Seven - Last Night (Part 2)

Thu, 30 Apr 2026 22:21:49 GMT

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Waterloo Bay

The rest of the Voyager crew met in the Tavern at Waterloo Bay for a final briefing before they set sail. Two of them would join the ship in the morning, while Hao intended to sleep aboard.

The Tavern was a renovated hotel from the Old Times. The ground level had been scoured by the Wave and rebuilt with wooden chairs and tables sealed with pitch and wax. The second floor remained intact, its rooms now let to travellers and visiting merchants. Lamplight flickered through the windows, casting warm pools across the worn floorboards. The air was thick with the smell of roasting meat, salt air and spilled beer. The Carers served wine, beer and meals to Guild members, while others paid coin for their hospitality.

Tyri had arrived early and claimed a corner table where the noise of other patrons would mask their conversation. He sat with his back to the wall, watching the room with a warrior’s awareness. Three cups of wine already waited on the table. Hao sat next to him. Kali arrived with her leather satchel bulging with scrolls and books, and a wooden case of Carer remedies. She dropped into the chair across from Tyri with a grin. “Starting without me?”

“Just being prepared.” Tyri pushed one cup towards her. “Newcast wine. Thought you’d appreciate it.”

Hao began quietly. “Pati and I selected you for this crew together. Each of you has a different role to play.” He looked at Tyri. “You will defend us. Voyager also has weapons of some type, but we’ve never been able to use them.”

Tyri’s grin was wolfish. “We don’t know what we’ll face, but whatever it is, we can overcome it.” He tapped the hilt of the knife at his belt. “Father gave me new steel. If something needs killing, I’m ready.”

Hao nodded. “I’m sure you are, but that will be a last resort. We’ll use diplomacy first.”

Hao looked at Kali. “You know more about the lands we will visit than anyone in Sidni. Have you brought a map for us?”

Kali’s eyes lit up. “Yes. The Learners have been creating a map from Old Times sources. I’ve…”

She stopped talking as a Carer approached with more wine for them, traded from the Newcast. The woman set down three wooden cups, smiled, and drifted back towards the bar.

When she was out of earshot, Kali continued, dropping her voice. “Kia ora! That’s hello in Māori. They live in New Zealand. That should be our first stop.” She pulled a folded parchment from her satchel and spread it on the table. Her finger traced the two islands. “We know that our land, Australia, and theirs, New Zealand, had friendly relations in the past. They may be able to help us explore other islands further east.”

Tyri leaned over the map. “How far is it?”

“About a day and a half on Voyager,” Kali said. “If the weather holds.”

Hao studied the map, then looked at each of them. “Thank you, Kali. The Carers have provided provisions for us. Water barrels, dried meat, salted fish, bread and fruit. We may also be able to collect food from the places we visit.” He paused. “Though if this journey takes longer than expected, we’ll need to ration carefully.”

“There is one more thing.” He paused, making sure he had their attention. “Pati described this as a mission of exploration. It is more than that. We have to find some things the President needs. There are a few clues to their location, but we don’t know exactly how far we’ll need to go.”

Silence settled over the table. Tyri’s grin faded.

He reached across and covered her hand with his. “Whatever happens, I’ll keep you safe.”

Kali looked at their hands, then up at his face. “That’s not your job, Tyri.”

“Maybe not. But I’m making it my job anyway.” He squeezed her hand gently.

Hao looked at his crew. Tyri, all bravado and untested courage. Kali, brilliant but inexperienced beyond the safety of the Great Library. And himself, a Diplomat who’d never captained anything more dangerous than cruises to Newcast and Albion Bay.

Would it be enough to save everything they had built?

Hao lifted his cup. “To the crew of Voyager. May the Earth Mother guide us home. I’ll see you on board in the morning.” Hao left the tavern to meet with his mother, Queen Na.

Kali took a long drink to finish her wine, then gathered her map. “I should turn in. We have an early start.”

“You could stay.” Tyri gestured towards the ceiling. “I have a room upstairs. We could... continue the briefing.”

Daughters’ Wrath: Chapter Seven - Last Night (Part 1)

Thu, 23 Apr 2026 22:31:52 GMT

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Sofi’s Tower

Sali hardly slept in her old room as the options, choices and consequences flew through her mind.

As dawn broke, her gaze returned to Mohan. The years had not softened him. The strength in his arms spoke of the training he still kept with the warriors he called brothers. His scars, old and new, told their own stories, of loyalty, endurance, and survival. Now she must leave him, the warmth of their bed, but couldn’t tell him why.

Sali felt a familiar feeling rise within. Her heart began to race, and her breaths came shorter. She reached out, brushing a hand along his cheek, feeling the familiar roughness of his beard. Shifting her body closer, she moved further down, feeling him stiffen, even as he slowly woke.

(IRC NOTE : Yes, I know. This is a good scene … )

Daughters’ Wrath: Chapter Six - Meetings (Part 2)

Fri, 17 Apr 2026 09:02:48 GMT

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The Navigator

Pati slipped out of the crypt last, extinguishing candles as she left. All that remained of the meeting was a wisp of smoke curling towards the vaulted ceiling and the fierce commitment of her young champions. She moved through the crowd in the great hall, greeting familiar faces all around her, pleased to see her people. The young faces were full of life and hope, their laughter rising above the chatter. Only the Warriors stationed at each door were a faint reminder of the perils they had faced to reach this happy place.

Ulrik and Saraseya stood talking with Timous and his wife near the southern wall. There was no mistaking the Hurst brothers. Their lanky frames, full beards and easy smiles were in visual harmony, though Timous carried himself with military bearing while Ulrik gestured expansively as he spoke.

“How is the Hurst clan?” Pati asked, approaching with a smile. “Both Elders now, serving the Hursts in different ways?”

Ulrik grinned. “We serve the people, dear leader.” His tone was jovial, but his eyes held a shadow of their earlier conversation.

Timous clapped his brother on the shoulder. “My little brother seems to be thriving in Canberra.” He patted Ulrik’s belly with mock concern. “Perhaps too well.”

Ulrik laughed and pushed his hand away. “Saraseya’s cooking. I’m a victim of her talents.” Saraseya, who had never cooked looked puzzled.

Pati smiled indulgently and turned to Saraseya. “This must be Saraseya. I have heard so much about you from Sali. Wonderful to meet you at last.” She paused, choosing her words carefully. “Do you still work with the President?”

Saraseya’s expression remained neutral, professional. “We all serve the President, and He looks after us. It is so good you will be helping too.” She passed Pati a scrap of paper.

“Yes, we were happy to be asked.” Pati gestured across the hall. “Hao over there will be leading the team. I really must speak with him before he leaves.”

She excused herself and drifted through the crowd towards Hao, who stood awkwardly near a pillar, observing the gathering with his analytical gaze. She extracted him from the hall with a subtle gesture, leading him silently to Sofi’s Tower. Her eyes glanced up at the gulls perched in the trees and on rooftops.

She climbed the stone stairs ahead of Hao and closed the door to her chamber behind them. The room was quiet, insulated from the noise below. She was hopeful He was not recording her here, though she could not be certain.

“Hao, you will face challenges as a leader we can’t imagine. The crew we have selected have all the skills you will need. As a leader, you must learn to trust them. I wanted to give you some things that will help your journey.” She moved to her desk and lifted a fat leather-bound book. “Firstly, here is one of our first books.”

Hao took it carefully, flipping through the empty pages with a puzzled look. The paper was thick and cream-coloured, each page blank, and waiting to be filled.

“It’s to write your log. A record of your journey.” Pati watched his face as understanding dawned. “You can also use it for messages that can’t be spoken aloud.” She pulled a slip of paper from her robes and copied some numbers onto the back page.

“This is a code to contact the President. If you find a device like this…” she picked up the Milpad from her desk. “Enter the code to make a connection. The President will decide what happens next.”

Hao nodded slowly, running his fingers across the smooth paper.

“Next, this is a book about a captain from the Old Times.” She placed a book in his hands, its hardcover worn but intact. “He made the journey from east to west, stopping at Hawaii, New Zealand and in Sidni Bay. Well, it was two bays then, before the Wave.”

“Thank you, Pati.” Hao’s voice was reverent as he took the precious artefact. Hao opened it carefully and read aloud. “Captain James Cook.” A portrait faced him. The man had a pale face and strange grey hair tied back. He gazed down at something beyond the frame with piercing brown eyes and a slight frown on his face. A stern look. Disapproval at his legacy, perhaps, or at the actions of the men who followed?

“I will study it,” Hao said quietly. “Thank you, Pati.”

“I have detained you long enough. Go to your crew. You will need all their skills and judgement to complete your mission.” She placed a hand on his shoulder briefly. “Trust them, Hao. And trust yourself.”

Hao rose, bowed awkwardly and left, clutching the books to his chest like treasures.

Pati moved to the window and looked across the bay. Dark clouds thickened in the afternoon humidity, their bellies heavy with rain. Soon, a storm would cleanse the air, irrigate their farms and refill the ponds and rivers. The cycle of the Earth Mother was essential to all life. She watched the first drops begin to fall, streaking the glass, and wondered if her Captain could weather the storm ahead.

Wānaka, Aotearoa

Salt IV watched the Joby S60i helo rise autonomously, its six rotors spinning up with a rising electric whir. Mia guided the take off and uploaded the navigation algorithms, then the helo banked smoothly over the lake and slowly disappeared from view, flying west toward the distant peaks. Salt III, his brother George and a Milbot were aboard, and the rods revealed they were going trout fishing. Without him.

The younger Salt was slow to anger. As he sat in the sunken lounge and gazed across the lake to the mountains, ignoring the chatter of the clan throughout the lakeside house, it slowly ate at him. He was loyal to his kin and respected the foresight of his ancestor to build them a place of safety from the disasters which had overwhelmed the world. Still, it made sense to cooperate with the Māori villagers. Sooner or later, the bounty in their ark would be consumed, and they would all need to work together to rebuild their country.

Daughters’ Wrath: Chapter Six - Meetings (Part 1)

Fri, 10 Apr 2026 09:03:04 GMT

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Saint Mary

The monthly Council Meeting at Saint Mary always drew a crowd. Market stalls spread up the road towards Waterloo Bay, selling everything from food to leathers, from tribal emblems to knives. Warriors lined the road to keep the peace, armed now with staves. After an unfortunate incident that left a Paramats drunk impaled and dead six years ago, Arni had decided that if a Warrior could not subdue a man with a stave, they had no business in the brotherhood.

Soon Saint Mary filled with voices. The procession of Elders from the eleven tribes entered first, each dressed in their distinct garb. The Hills Queen Na Wang wore her dark red robe with a silver cross at her throat. The Moon King Mohan strode in with leather and black fur across his broad shoulders, stealing a glimpse at Sali as he passed. The Blueman King Magnus wore steel mail and leather, his sword belt gleaming. They sat in order at a long table beneath the brilliant stained glass window, its colours casting jewelled light across their faces. They faced their people with solemn dignity. In front, the carved chair of the Elder stood empty, its wood worn smooth by Sofi’s hands. A reminder that her spirit lived in all of them.

Next the six Guild leaders entered, led by Pati, and sat at their table in unison. Their emblems were carved in the chair backs.

Pati nodded, and the lone drummer struck the leather, slow and steady. Pati raised her voice, the sound carrying to the vaulted ceiling. “Today, we start The Song of Sidni again. The Elder left us the song so we remember who we are.” The complete cycle now took forty moons, or over three years to complete. Together they began, voices rising to the vaulted roof and echoing from the stone floor:

Man forged his magic out of fire, with lightning in his hand,

He split the atom, sailed the air, and conquered sea and land.

He walked upon the silver moon, his banners hung in space,

But on the Earth he turned away, forgot her tender face.

Her forests wept, her rivers choked, her warnings went unheard,

For men were deaf with pride and haste, unheeding nature’s word.

The last word rang through the hall, lingering, then dying away. Silence held for three heartbeats, then they sat.

Pati alone remained standing. “The Council comes to order. Today is the First Day of the Fourth Month of the sixty-sixth year Post Wave. We welcome and recognise our guests King Mikee and Queen Rilee of Newcast. We hope they will choose to join us.” She nodded towards the two visitors seated near the front, both wearing the blue and white of their tribe. “We commence with the Guild reports.” She sat. To her right, three men; to her left, three women. She nodded at Arni and smiled.

Arni spoke from his chair, his voice gravelly and worn. “We remain at peace. The Warriors stand at six brigades, two thousand, nine hundred and fifty-three men bear arms to protect the people.” He paused, catching Yara’s raised eyebrow. “Men and women,” he corrected himself with a smile and a nod. A few chuckles rippled through the assembly.

Next, Jimi of the Growers rose. He was the youngest Guild leader, still adjusting to his new role, and his hands still calloused from fieldwork. “The food stores stand at forty-two weeks and fully support our gold coin. Trade is steady on all routes. At least one hundred souls cross our borders to join us every moon, and we can feed them all.” The scribe’s quill scratched across parchment.

Loki, leader of the Smiths, spoke next, his leathery hands stained with oil and soot. “Weapons are fully stocked. Gold minting is steady. Our engines continue the task of reclaiming land for the Growers. Our latest project is to create books of paper for the Learners. We have a sample and will scale up from here.” He held up a bound sheaf of clean white pages. Murmurs of approval filled the hall. Another note was made.

Madi, of the Learners, rose, her grey hair pinned back severely. “All children are in school,” she said in her traditional opening. “The Smiths have completed our new hall.” She nodded to Loki. “We continue to seek new books to restore. We are also developing new medicines for the Carers.”

Susi, of the Carers, stood next, addressing the people not the Council. “All Carers are healthy and content, and all our halls operate smoothly. We support some sisters who have left the Guild to establish their own premises. They are never short of customers.” She looked at Arni with theatrical disapproval. Laughter rippled through the hall at Susi’s antics. Most of the people couldn’t remember anyone else in the role, and her teasing of the Warriors had become a tradition.

Finally, Yara, the Diplomats leader, spoke. Her steel-grey eyes swept the assembly. “Relations remain strong with Canberra. Our diplomats speak to the President regularly. We have also opened discussions with the Newcast.” She smiled and nodded at King Mikee. “Our missions to the north and south are due to return soon, and we hope to make contact with more tribes.”

Attention shifted back to Pati. She rose again, placing her hands on the table. “Thank you all. Once again, you have worked well together for our people. We continue to enjoy peace and prosperity. I have a new mission to announce.” She paused, letting the silence build. “The President has agreed to allow us explore the Eastern Ocean with Voyager.” A murmur of surprise and excitement spread through the hall. She ended the meeting by sitting.

The people rose to meet and talk to their leaders. Conversations bloomed across the cathedral floor. Pati moved to a door on the eastern side of the great hall, opened it and slipped inside, leaving the growing noise of voices behind.

The Crypt

The crypt was the final resting place for leaders of the Old Times, their names and feats unknown. The bones lay beneath an elaborate stone mosaic floor, with an intricate cross and designs from myths long forgotten. Candles flickered in wall sconces, casting dancing shadows across the ancient stonework. It was the only place Pati knew for certain that the President couldn’t see or hear her, and she used it occasionally for the most secret meetings.

Ulrik, Hao and Kali were already waiting for her, having slipped away at the end of the Council meeting. She joined them at the ancient wooden table, its surface scarred by centuries of use. The air smelled of damp stone and smoke.

Pati settled into her chair and looked at each of them in turn. “Thank you all for coming. Ulrik learnt something very disturbing a few days ago. I wanted us to discuss the mission we need you to undertake.” She paused, her voice dropping lower. “Everything we discuss here is secret and cannot be discussed with anybody else. Not your families. Not your Guild members. Nobody.” She looked to Ulrik. “Please, tell them what you told me.”

Ulrik leaned forward, his usual jovial manner replaced by the gravity of a man who had faced death. “The President needs us to find Opticon chips. Saraseya has told me about them. They’re small devices the machines use to think. All Canberrans have them. Some animals too. Some chips just provide location and health information. Others can communicate, record, transmit.” He let that sink in. “It’s safest to imagine that every conversation, every face, every movement in Sidni has been tracked and recorded for the last sixty-six years.”

Hao and Kali gasped, and she spoke first. “Why would the President spy on us?”

Daughters’ Wrath: Chapter Five - Choices (Part 2)

Fri, 03 Apr 2026 07:31:44 GMT

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Albion Bay

Voyager slid up to the wharf at Albion Bay under a brilliant sky. A stiff breeze chopped the water into white caps. Hao shielded his eyes against the sun’s glare and could see Ulrik and Saraseya waiting at the shore side, a silver EV parked on the road behind them.

He had made this voyage many times. A couple of hours down the coast, past the cliffs with the remains of villages and towns clinging to their faces. The roads that led into the sea, ending abruptly where the land had given way. Then far ahead, the point with its wharf, slowly growing on the horizon. The speed dropped off and the boat made a smooth stop at the wharf while he did nothing at all.

The steep road climbed through the forest to the top of the pass. Hao had never travelled that road. He knew Canberra lay beyond, and the forces that controlled Voyager. The Seabots threw ropes with unerring accuracy onto the mooring cleats. Then Voyager bobbed peacefully on the waves, her hull creaking against the pylons.

“We have arrived at Albion Bay,” the boat announced unnecessarily.

Ulrik grinned broadly and strode up the wharf with his wife, their footsteps echoing on the wooden planks.

“G’day Hao,” he shouted, waving. “Permission to come aboard.” Always the joker.

Hao smiled. “Permission granted, your honourship.”

“It’s the Right Honourable Ulrik Hurstson MP, Captain Wang.” Ulrik’s eyes crinkled with amusement. “Is this vessel shipshape?”

Ulrik was always amused that the captain of Voyager had no power whatsoever and was just a passenger once the destination was set. A captain who couldn’t command his ship.

Hao stepped forward to help Saraseya aboard. “And Mrs Hurstson. Welcome aboard.”

Saraseya took his hand with a nod, tolerating the banter between the men with a raised eyebrow. She settled into a cabin seat with practiced ease.

When his passengers were seated, Hao sat too. He decided to give them a treat.

“Voyager. Waterloo Bay please. Forty knots.”

“Aye, captain.” Voyager’s voice held a note of something almost like approval. Or so he imagined.

The Seabots elegantly flipped the ropes off the mooring cleats with mechanical precision. Voyager slowly turned to the north, her bow cutting through the chop. Then she accelerated to her designated speed, rearing out of the water, and taking the humans’ breath away. She left two streaks of white water behind as she sped back towards Sidni, the wind whipping salt spray across the deck.

Blue Mountains

Far away, in the Blue Mountains, Magnus faced a dilemma.

He had been King of the Bluemen for five years. His ran his hand though his cropped brown hair and stroked his clipped beard. The White Palace perched like an eyrie over the plunging golden cliffs. Each day brought another magnificent vista, the colours changing from gold to blood with the setting sun. From here, he could see down into the valleys below, and along the ridgeline where the road connected the tribes. The road east to Sidni, the road west to the Wiradjuri and Batirst lands beyond. He enjoyed his life.

Daughters’ Wrath: Chapter Five - Choices (Part 1)

Fri, 27 Mar 2026 08:10:45 GMT

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The Great Library

The dawn chill burnt off as the sun climbed over the bay. Pati walked the path from Saint Mary past the old Parliament House, her breakfast settling in the knot of her stomach. The ruins were home now to fig trees whose roots dug into rotted chambers and whose leaves shaded the cracked streets. The Great Library stood apart, a stone edifice whose ground floor had been scoured by the Great Wave. Yet the Learners had cleaned and rebuilt it as a shrine to knowledge, slowly recovering it page by page.

She climbed the stone stairs and entered through the new wooden doors. Madi had been alerted and was waiting for her.

“G’day Pati. How nice of you to visit us!” She beamed, gesturing around the hall with obvious pride.

Pati smiled. “G’day Madi. The renovations are coming along well.”

She glanced around the large hall. The rows of chairs showed it was a meeting room for the Learners. On the eastern wall, salvaged bookshelves held the most important restored works. The Bible stood at the centre beneath a large cross. Around it were other religious books, a scroll labelled Magna Carta, leather-bound journals from ancient mariners and a book marked Shakespeare. A marble bust with the same name had been placed in front, its dead eyes staring at them.

Madi stepped to her side, watching her examine the collection. “It took a long time to dry them all, but it was worth it. We’ve transcribed the words and have a much greater understanding of the Old Times.”

Pati turned to face her. “Truly excellent work. We must learn from these men how the Old Ones failed. Why they allowed greed and war to destroy the world. Then we can avoid their mistakes.”

“Thank you.” Madi’s expression grew curious. “How can we help you?”

“I need to talk to Kali. Where does she work?”

“Oh, that would be fine. I’ll show you.”

Madi led her down the corridor, puzzled why the Elder would want to talk to her granddaughter here, and meet her alone. Usually Pati simply summoned people to Saint Mary’s.

Pati entered Kali’s working space. Old maps lined the walls, their edges curling with age. Kali sat at a wooden table, making careful notes on a scroll, her tongue caught between her teeth in concentration. She looked up and rose to embrace her grandmother.

“Grandmother, how nice to see you?” The Sidni lilt made the greeting a question.

Pati’s face told her this wasn’t a social visit. Kali’s smile faded.

“I need to ask you some questions.” Pati moved to the wall where a large world map hung. “What do you know about New Zealand?”

Kali paused, unsure what secrets to reveal. Surely Pati would know all this? It must be a test. She pointed to the map. “It has two islands. The Māori lived there, then English settlers arrived at the same time as they did in Australia.” She hesitated, then added, “Kia ora. That’s hello in Māori. They are warriors and call the islands Aotearoa.” She gestured to a book on her table. “The New Zealand Wars. It’s about the conflicts there.”

The islands looked small next to the vast expanse of Australia. Pati had not known Kali was granted access to a world map. She was impressed with the girl’s discretion. She had hidden the secrets from her friends in generalities, never boasting of forbidden knowledge.

“Where are the cities?”

Kali pointed to a different map where the cities of Auckland and Wellington were marked in faded ink. “Auckland was by the sea, so it was likely flooded. Wellington was built on hills around a harbour, so it may be more intact.”

“What of the other islands in the Eastern Ocean?”

Kali’s eyes brightened. “The Old Ones called it the Pacific. It has many small islands where people lived.” Her finger traced across the blue expanse. “Hawaii up here. Fiji here. Then America all the way over here.” She looked back at Pati, her expression wistful. “We have no way of reaching any of them now.”

“What if we could?”

Kali’s face transformed. Her eyes widened, then narrowed with understanding. A slow smile spread across her face. “When do we leave?”

Pati didn’t let her thoughts stray onto her face. Hao was right. Kali is the right choice. The only choice. She is ready. How will I tell Sali?

The Treasury

Pati left the Great Library and walked towards another stone building. This one had a tower growing from behind the facade, reaching towards the clouds like a raised finger. Once it had housed men who moved gold around the world. Now it housed Diplomats who moved hearts and minds. Today she wanted to see Yara, so she walked up the stone steps, past the watchful bronze lions and up the marble staircase to where Yara’s chamber looked out across the bay. One of the Diplomats’ apprentices escorted her in

“G’day Yara. I need your advice. About the President, and two other things.”

Yara looked up from the scroll she was studying. “Of course, please join me.” Her eyes were steel, complemented by a few grey hairs now. She gestured to the seat across from her desk.

Sixteen years ago, Yara had offered herself to their enemies, knowing her death would make Sidni stronger. She did not die. She survived. A fury beaten into her soul by men beneath contempt. A hammer on steel. That was how she bore it. Each blow she saw as the smith’s hammer, the strike raising sparks, hardening, the fire burning red deep within. Her fire. Arni’s rescue and embrace quenching the steel with her tears. Yara felt her pain transfer to his eyes, promising vengeance of the Earth Mother for her suffering. A debt Arni repaid to the Moon Kings in full.

Pati settled into the chair, choosing her words carefully. “I need your help to understand the President. We know a machine creates his face and personality. He works to a set of rules we don’t know. His instructions are incomplete. He is rigid and fanatical.”

Daughters’ Wrath: Chapter Four - Secrets (Part 2)

Fri, 13 Mar 2026 08:19:34 GMT

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Sofi’s Chamber

Pati paused at the closed door of Sofi’s chamber. The painful memory of Sofi’s last night flashed unbidden into her mind yet again. The cool dawn light filtering through the shutters. The silence. Unbroken by faint, struggling breaths. The sudden jolt of realisation that her rock was gone, that Sofi had passed gently into the embrace of the Earth Mother.

Fifteen years ago, yet time would not dull this moment. It would scab and scar, be ripped open again by a sound, a smell, a thought. The red pain would flow fresh each time. Pati had honoured Sofi’s life by completing her work. Sidni was at peace now, strong enough to protect the people and keep the peace with the other tribes. Learning to thrive, not just survive. She knew Sofi would be proud.

Pati’s hand reached for the handle and stepped inside.

Little had changed since that dawn. The banners and maps still hung on the walls. The chest sat in its place. The bed remained made, coverlet smooth. Empty now, yet carrying the echo of a life lived fiercely, wisely, brutally. Sofi had survived horrors at the end of the Old Times that would have broken most people. Led a tribe. Held a child’s hand on the long trek south. Her hand.

The air smelled of dust and oiled wood. Pati shook off the sadness of the past and focused on the future. She crossed to the bed and lifted off the wall cover that hid the world map above it. Stained and discoloured from the passage of time, it showed how vast the world truly was. Information kept from most Sidni. She traced a line with her finger. A day’s ride would cover the width of a hair.

Taking a fresh paper sheet from the desk, she began making notes. She found Sydney first, then traced her finger east and south across the Tasman to the two islands of New Zealand. She found two cities marked there: Auckland and Wellington. Both on the coast. How much of them would remain?

Then she searched for San Francisco. Her finger swept across the vast blue expanse of the Pacific. Finally she found it, a city on the far side of the ocean, impossibly distant.

Next she unlocked Sofi’s Milpad. The device hummed to life, its screen casting pale light across her hands. She searched for information, engaging the intelligent device with careful deliberation.

New Zealand: Neutral in the final war. Settled by Māori tribes centuries before. A fierce warrior culture.

San Francisco: Home of the technology industry. Artificial Intelligence. Robotics. The heart of the Old World’s digital empire.

Mia: Nothing at all that looked relevant. Just scattered references to names, none matching their Mia.

Noah Salt: A mass of information erupted onto the screen. He was the oldest son of Simon Salt, founder and chair of Opticon Corporation. Born 2027. Educated at Stanford. Director of Neural Interface Division.

Opticon: World leader in ocular implants and neural chips. Headquarters in San Francisco. Revenue in 2062: $847 billion. Staff: 10,000 worldwide.

Pati sat back, the numbers swimming before her eyes.

All this information was far beyond what the President had shared. She didn’t know if He possessed this knowledge and chose not to share it, or if He truly lacked it. Either possibility was concerning. If He was ignorant, His power had limits she hadn’t considered. If He was withholding, His motives were darker than she’d feared.

She looked back at the map. The distance between Sidni and San Francisco seemed to grow even as she stared at it.

How could they possibly cross such an ocean? And what would they find on the other side?

Waterloo Bay

Voyager bobbed slowly on the tide, tied up at the wooden wharf at Waterloo Bay. The Seamen who maintained her had lost their naval uniforms to wear and rot long ago and now wore Sidni clothes of leather and cotton. This was more for the benefit of the Sidni, who were more comfortable if the droids looked and acted like people. A seagull perched on the bow rail, silently scanning. To a casual observer, it looked like just another seabird living its life in Sidni Bay.

Pati dismounted and looked more closely at the black band across the bird’s eyes as she stepped onto the wharf. A slight red flash caught her eye as it turned its head. The asymmetry of its skull became more obvious. It was a surveillance biobot, its brain enhanced by neural chips and its eyesight by an implant. It worked closely with Voyager to provide real-time intelligence, in return for fish.

Hao had remained aboard after returning to Sidni. A wooden cabin had been constructed behind the bridge to accommodate up to four crew. It was more than big enough for one, and Hao called it home since he claimed the honour of captaining the incredible vessel.

Captaining was, however, somewhat of an exaggeration. He would request a destination and the boat would go there. Or she would refuse in a calm, polite voice. “Request denied.” Her primary mission was to ferry Sidni men to Canberra for the population programme. Anything beyond that was liable to be refused. Hao wondered if Voyager would ever be allowed to realise her full potential as a ship of exploration.

“G’day captain!” Pati called out, her voice carrying across the water. “Permission to come aboard?”

“G’day Pati. Let me come to you.” Hao jumped down from Voyager to the wharf, landing with practiced ease. “What can I do for you?”

Pati smiled. “Firstly, thank you for an excellent mission to the Newcast. Our diplomats are heading there now. We hope to make a breakthrough.”

Hao’s face brightened. “Roni did an amazing job. Took command. Cool under pressure. A great healer.”

“I’ll thank her personally.” Pati’s expression grew serious. “We have two more missions for you. One easy, one hard.”

Hao leaned in, brow furrowed. A Voyager mission had never been too hard or lasted more than a few hours.

“The easy mission is to collect Ulrik from Albion Bay in the morning.”

Hao straightened. “Very good. I’ll take care of that.”

“Now for the hard mission.” Pati’s voice dropped. “We need you to cross the Eastern Ocean to find two people and an artefact. We don’t know how long it will take or how far you’ll need to go. It will be unlike anything you’ve done before. Come to my chamber with Ulrik tomorrow and I’ll tell you everything we know.”

Hao’s mind raced. His hand found the rail behind him. “I’m sure we can handle it.”

“Who is your crew?” Pati watched him carefully. “We think you’ll need a Warrior, Carer and a Learner. Who would you choose?”

Hao didn’t hesitate. “Tyri Arnison, Roni Susikin, Kali Sofikin.” He used their second names, compliant with the Council edict.

Pati’s eyes narrowed. “Why Kali?”

“She has studied the Eastern Ocean. She knows the islands and some of the languages.”

“How do you know that?”

Hao’s confidence faltered. His gaze dropped. “Er, well. That’s what I was told.”

Pati stepped closer, voice quiet but firm. “Tyri is indiscreet, isn’t he? You’ll need to coach him. Kali too. Information is a weapon now, as much as a sword or arrow. Maybe more.” She glanced pointedly at the gull, who returned the stare, then turned to leave. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Look forward to it,” Hao said, but his voice had lost its certainty. Pati doesn’t usually criticise. That means it’s serious. I won’t slip again. I’ll have my war face on tomorrow.

As Pati returned to her home, clouds obscured the sun. The wind picked up and a fierce shower soaked her. The people ran for shelter to wait out the storm.

Martin Place

Arni stood in his office at Martin Place, watching through the tall windows as Tyri strode through the gates below. His son nodded to the guards with easy confidence. From this elevated position, Arni had watched his men hone their fighting skills for twenty years. Not for large-scale battles anymore. Single combat with bandits on the roads was the more likely engagement now. Sidni had changed. His body had changed with it.

He heard Tyri taking the stairs two at a time. The door burst open. All muscle, movement and that cheeky grin. Arni knew that look well. Named after Lira’s father, nobody could be unaware they were father and son. Arnison: the most useless second name in Sidni.

“G’day Father.” Tyri’s voice filled the room.

“Son, good to see you.” Arni embraced him, then held him at arm’s length. “You’re looking stronger.”

Tyri laughed. “Thank you. You’re looking older.”

The words stung more than they should have. “Better than the alternative, son.” Arni forced lightness into his voice. “How was your trip?”

“It’s a beautiful boat. Newcast was amazing. A huge flooded bay, way bigger than Sidni.” Tyri’s eyes lit up with the telling. “Plenty of dolphins and whales in the ocean too. I saw one breach right beside us, must have been fifteen metres long.”

“Good, good.” Arni moved to the chairs by the window. His chest felt tight. “I need to talk to you about something serious. You mustn’t tell anyone else. Sit down here.”

Tyri’s grin faded. He sat, suddenly wary. “What is it, Father?”

Daughters’ Wrath: Chapter Four - Secrets (Part 1)

Fri, 06 Mar 2026 07:59:36 GMT

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Sofi’s Tower

Pati stood at the window of her chamber and gazed east across the bay. Fishing boats bobbed across the waves like a family of ducklings, seeking the best waters along the coast. Dolphins accompanied them, knowing the boats would lead them to shoals where there would be enough fish for all of them.

She took a deep breath, turned to her desk and unlocked the iron box containing the President’s Milpad. He had gifted it to them sixteen years ago to allow Pati to contact Him or the Sidni ambassadors in The Lodge. That was all it would do, yet Pati knew it was capable of more. Much more.

Sofi had given her another. Her father Beni’s Milpad could connect with information from the Old Times that the President would not share. A secret Pati had managed to keep from Him. From this, she knew the world was vast. It had once held ten billion souls before most of them were incinerated in nuclear fire or starved in the flooded, frigid wastes left behind. This was not information she shared with anyone else. If the Sidni were to avoid the mistakes of the past, they must tread carefully, lest a thirst for the comfort and ease of technology condemn them to repeat those same errors. She alone had charted this path. Soon though, she would need to share the burden with another.

A chime sounded. The Milpad pulsed insistently as Ulrik and Tayla tried to initiate a meeting. She accepted and sat at her desk, the screen illuminating with their familiar faces. She had known both of them for over fifteen years and was happy to have them looking after Sidni interests in Canberra.

“G’day Tayla and Ulrik. Thank you for calling.” Pati smiled warmly, then her expression grew serious. “I assume you have more information about the state of emergency. Did you speak with the President?” She pointed upward as she spoke, reminding them that everything they said would be recorded and analysed.

Tayla leaned forward, her face tense. “We did. Fifteen minutes exactly, as always. He was... direct.” She glanced at Ulrik, then continued. “The situation is worse than we thought. He’s declared all other objectives secondary to finding these biochips. That includes the Rule of Law. He mentioned human body parts could be used to repair droids. We are less than one percent of His citizens, Pati. We have no protections at all now if we fail Him.”

Ulrik’s usually jovial face was grim. “He wants Voyager for the mission. Specifically requested her by name, though He calls her HMAS Noosa Isle. He wants us to find Opticon CX Biochips.”

“What do we know about these chips?” Pati asked, reaching for her journal to take notes.

Tayla consulted her own notes. “They were manufactured by Opticon Corporation. They were sent to Canberra by autonomous aircraft from 2061 to 2067. The last message from Opticon was ‘Stockout’ on 13th April 2067. Before that, someone named Mia in New Zealand sent an encrypted message to Noah Salt on 23rd December 2062.” She looked up. “That’s everything He told us. Four sentences that could take a lifetime to understand.”

“That was the day of the Great Wave.” Pati responded quietly. “And what don’t we know?” She added.

Ulrik ticked off on his fingers. “How to find Opticon chips. How to make them if we can’t find them. Where New Zealand and San Francisco are, exactly. Who Noah Salt is or was. He would be dead now. What Mia’s message said. He said she is still alive, somehow.” He paused, his voice dropping. “And most importantly, what the President will do to us if we fail.”

The weight of that final point hung in the air between them. Pati closed her eyes briefly, thinking of all the humans who had died when they rebelled against Him before. Then she opened them and squared her shoulders.

“This is a mystery we must solve,” she said firmly. “We must start by working out where these places are. I will ask the Learners to consult any recovered books that could help. Maps, atlases, anything from the Old Times that shows the Old world.” She looked at them both. “What do you recommend we do?”

Ulrik straightened. “Find out as much useful information as we can from our library. Assemble the best crew for Voyager we can find and brief them fully on the mission and the stakes involved. They need to understand this isn’t a trading voyage. This is life and death, for all of us.”

“Agreed,” Tayla added. “And we need specialists. Not just sailors, but people who can navigate unknown waters, communicate with strangers, solve problems we can’t even imagine yet.”

Pati nodded slowly, her mind already working through possibilities. “Hao is a great captain and a good leader. But you’re right, we may need to add skills to the crew. A Learner who has studied the history and countries of the Eastern Ocean would be invaluable.” She made a note. “I will ask Madi, the Learners Guild leader, for her recommendation. Someone young, adaptable, quick-thinking.”

She looked up at Ulrik. “It would also be useful if you could brief Hao directly. You understand the President’s mindset better than any of us. And perhaps Saraseya would like to visit Sidni again? It has been a while since we’ve seen her.”

Ulrik’s face brightened slightly. “We would like that very much.”

“Good. Hao will meet you in Albion Bay if you can travel there tomorrow.” Pati stood, signalling the meeting’s end. “I must go now to make the arrangements. We’ll see you soon, my friends.”

“Goodbye, Pati,” Tayla said softly. “Be strong.”

“Always,” Pati replied, and ended the connection.

The screen went blank. Pati sat for a moment in the sudden silence, then carefully locked the President’s Milpad back in its iron box. She knew exactly where to go next. Sofi’s chamber.

It had been largely unused for the last fifteen years, kept as a memorial to her mother who had built Sidni. The other Milpad was there. This one was for seeking knowledge the President either didn’t have or wouldn’t share. The difference between them might be the difference between survival and extinction.

The Lodge

Ulrik and Saraseya usually ate lunch together in the dining room of The Lodge. Their work as an MP and Population Replenishment Program Liaison were not taxing, requiring only a few meetings per week. Since their marriage sixteen years ago, they had enjoyed Canberra and each other, the needs of their bodies, minds and souls mostly satisfied. Today, however, there was a note of tension in their conversation that hadn’t been there before. A careful tension, performed as much as felt.

Ulrik set down his roast beef and mustard sandwich and leaned back in his chair. “You do know that by suspending the Law, He can just arrest or even kill anybody on a whim?”

The apple slice on Saraseya’s fork paused halfway to her mouth. Her face showed exactly the right amount of concern, not too much, not dismissive. She had believed in order, in rules, in systems that protected everyone. Now she had to perform belief while the cameras observed, while her actual faith had quietly crumbled years ago. Eroded by her husband’s love, humanity and suspicion.

“The President is bound by the Constitution,” she said carefully. “He acts in the best interests of all citizens.”

“He is far more concerned about machines than humans.” Ulrik gestured with his glass of water, animated as always. “To Him, we are just a type of pet. Or wild animals, like the kangaroos, possums and koalas.”

Daughters’ Wrath: Chapter Three - Family

Fri, 27 Feb 2026 07:59:16 GMT

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Sofi’s Tower

As ever, the orange dawn light revealed movement and hushed voices in Sofi’s Tower. The Carers woke first to prepare breakfast for Pati and her guests. This morning, Sali had returned. The Moon Queen and legendary warrior added new energy to their home: the first woman to strap on armour to face Sidni’s enemies, whose arrow had ended the Moon War. The Carers knew she had given them peace and with it, choices. The distant clash of steel in Martin Place was a reminder that many women now defended the tribe, although their enemies were limited to Bandits and Sea Tribes.

Soon the scents of warm corn bread, honey and wax wafted through the Tower. They entered Sali’s dream, and Sofi appeared before her, smiling and reaching down to touch her head, her hair yellow, not grey. Sali opened her eyes, one filled with tears, the other magnifying the dim light and the warm echoes of the candles and hearth. Sofi had been gone, and Sali had not lived here, for sixteen years. Yet it would always be Sofi’s Tower and Sali’s home.

Pati, Sali and Kali soon sat at the wooden table, its surface scratched by the knives of four generations of their kin. Jami and Robi had returned to their families, and Archi slept. Pati was worried. Ulrik had left her a message on the Sidni Milpad she kept in the iron box on her desk, with unprecedented news from Canberra. She didn’t yet know what the President wanted, only that He would make a demand the Sidni couldn’t refuse.

“Why do the Sidni need last names, Auntie?” Kali asked, using the title the young ones gave to anyone they thought old.

“Just one name is confusing, Kali. Do you know how many Salis I have named in Saint Mary? I’ve lost count.” Pati replied, smiling into her daughter’s green eyes.

“You are already known as Kali Sali’s-Child anyway.” Sali laughed. “We all agreed last night that we would choose Sofikin as the name of our clan.”

“Well, I didn’t!” Kali retorted.

“All were heard,” Pati smiled at her granddaughter. “If your voice wasn’t enough, speak louder, debate, convince. Once the decision is made, all must follow. That is the Sidni way.” An Elder had many years behind, but few years ahead, so educating the young ones was their responsibility.

“Anyway,” Sali added, “you need to make your final choice of Guild soon. Have you decided?” Most Sidni still chose a Guild. An initial choice at sixteen, to start Guild training, then a final choice at twenty-one. Those who changed would spend an extra three years as apprentices, then a lifetime with their Guild brothers and sisters.

“I’m content to be a Learner, like my mother.” Kali replied with a hint of sarcasm. Every Sidni knew Sali had joined the Learners Guild, while Arni had trained her as a Warrior in secret. Sali kept smiling.

“A good choice.” Pati agreed. “Our children need Learners. Of course, the Sidni need children too.” She let the thought spread across the table like mist.

“When I was your age, I was carrying two boys, one on each hip,” Sali started, while Kali rolled her eyes. “Isn’t there a strong young warrior who has caught your eye?”

Sali glanced at Pati. “Maybe it’s time to bring back arranged marriages?” Pati intoned with a serious face. Kali stared at her in shock, but Sali couldn’t resist a grin. “Not that Tyri and Sali needed any arranging, or Mohan,” Pati added with a chuckle. After a moment of silence and quick glances, all three of them dissolved into laughter.

Pati and Sali told the stories of their youth, some of them anyway, with Kali asking questions, probing, understanding, conscious that her life would be very different. There would be no fear of death that her mother had faced. A life she may never understand.

“Come, Sali,” Pati said at length, after the Carers removed their plates. Sali left Kali and followed Pati upstairs to her chamber, to the window facing Vorclu Isle. “Look at that,” she said, gazing into the channel.

Sali looked. In the far distance, in the deep channel near Manli Isle, her eye focused on a dark shadow entering the bay. “Whale” entered her vision in red. “It’s Gurawul,” Sali said. “She is returning again, maybe to have a calf.” Sali had first seen Gurawul, the humpback whale, from Voyager’s bridge sixteen years ago, when she was a calf with her mother. Each year she returned, a little bigger, a few more scars from sharks or other whales. The Sidni had named her, and all the others who chose to visit their Bay.

“Keep looking,” Pati directed. “We must be more careful now,” she warned. “Your abilities are very useful. Incredible really. But dangerous. From the test Ulrik devised, The President can see what you see. He has called an emergency in Canberra. Ulrik is worried about His intent. We don’t know any details yet, but this a dangerous time. We know what He is capable of.”

“Yes, Mother. He killed most of the humans in Canberra when they rebelled. He thinks of us as pets in a zoo, harmless only if we stay in our cage.” There had not been a zoo in Sidni Bay for seventy-five years. Sali had seen the ruins and heard the occasional roar in the wooded ruins where the free descendants of these animals lived. Why anyone would keep wild animals in such a place was a mystery.

Pati placed her hand on Sali’s cheek, where the faded sword scar crossed her cheekbone. “After sixteen years, we still don’t know that much. He has birds, dolphins and kangaroos working for Him, observing everything. Millions of droids, including the ones on the bridge and Voyager. We know he analyses every piece of information He receives. We must make Him see only what we want him to see. It seems He never worries about what He doesn’t know. Perhaps that could be an advantage one day. Until then, we must negotiate where we can, and do exactly what He asks.”

Sali kept her gaze outside. “Yes, Mother. I will stay until you find out what the President wants. I may be able to help somehow.” Sali asked and demanded at the same time.

Pati knew her daughter. Knew she would not be content to wait at home while others took on dangerous tasks. She also knew that the device implanted in her skull was the devil’s gift. Offering incredible powers, beyond those the eye destroyed on the road to Canberra had possessed. The green eyes Pati had given her. Freely. Happily. With no demands other than to live a good and full life. All the President’s gifts had been different from this, limited in some way, each one bearing a price. A price that one day all the Sidni may have to pay.

The Lodge

Ulrik was deeply worried about the President’s call, due at ten that morning. Saraseya had returned home at the normal time the night before with no thoughts to offer on the meaning of the State of Emergency beyond the President’s words to Parliament.

When she and Ulrik married sixteen happy years ago, The President had reassigned her from His Chief of Staff to a liaison role for the Population Replenishment Program. As usual, there had been no explanation, only a list of instructions for her new role posted to her Fone from the Presidential Human Resources subroutine. The non-human residents of Canberra were not afforded even this sparse courtesy, just a new line of code placed in their objective set.

It was far more difficult to accept the removal of their son. Ulrik was overjoyed when they received permission to have a child. They called him Helmus, after the Hurst General. Ulrik had not realised then that he was not really his son but was the property of Canberra. Here, the women chosen to conceive receive an embryo at twenty-five, rear it for five years, then pass the child to the Department of Education for their implants and designated tasks. Over the last ten years, Helmus had visited occasionally, but seemed quite disinterested in human affairs.

As Ulrik and Saraseya took their daily shower together, a luxury still unknown in Sidni, they spoke of the Parliamentary session in hushed voices. For once, Ulrik had known more than Saraseya did, although he experienced the role reversal with a growing sense of foreboding. The fact she knew nothing had made it worse. He was truly in uncharted waters, without his Canberra-born wife and guide to navigate for him.

The next morning, he waited silently with Tayla and Saraseya for the President to appear on the screen in their dining room. It had been designed as a room for serious meetings, for grim-faced men poring over maps and files. For Ulrik and Tayla, the comfortable chairs and large table made it a perfect room to entertain any Sidni people visiting them. No Sidni business was ever discussed here, of course. For that, they had found another venue.

In his two years in Parliament, Ulrik had never been granted an opportunity to speak to the President at all, let alone receive a live audience like this. Saraseya confirmed His schedule: four human meetings per week, 10am to 11am on Tuesdays. Fifteen minutes each. No more, no less. Sixteen years ago, the Sidni had daily meetings, not realising how unprecedented this was, a deluge of information in retrospect. Now, they received droplets. Each tiny drip making little impression on their mountain of ignorance. Yet the golden cliffs of the Blue Mountains bore silent witness that a drip could become a stream, a stream a river, and a river could cut a swathe through the hardest rock. Given enough time. Ulrik’s job was to stay the course, serve his terms and pass to his successor a few more grains of insight. To eventually unlock their gilded cage.

The screen chimed and the Australian President’s smiling visage filled the display. “G’day Sidni citizens,” he beamed. “How are you today?” Mimicking the Sidni accent perfectly. A clock at the bottom of the screen started counting the seconds.

Tayla led the meeting. “G’day Mr President. We are excellent, thank you. We appreciate you making time to meet us. The state of emergency was a surprise. We want to help you in any way we can, and hoped to explore what that might be.” She knew that the meeting would last exactly fifteen minutes and needed to make the most of every second. There might not be another one.

“Yes, thank you,” He replied. “This situation has been building for years and now we have reached my red line. The State of Emergency is triggered by the need to place citizens in stasis. This is an unacceptable public health crisis, and I must find a solution for all Australians, the vast majority of whom are at serious risk of harm. All other objectives are now secondary. I must even sacrifice the rule of law to protect the majority, if necessary.”

It was as Tayla feared, perhaps worse. “Which other objectives?” she asked.

“Defence, Environment, Power, even the Rule of Law. We may need to harvest human cortical components to repair citizens. This will require an increase in the production rate of humans.” He replied. Ulrik took careful notes, despite the sick feeling in his gut. Humans were less than one percent of citizens. A small minority, who now had no rights or protection from His omnipotence. Ulrik glanced at Tayla, she was breathing slowly, controlling herself. He forced a smile onto his face and said “Of course”.

“I see,” Tayla said, though she didn’t. “How can we help?” The Learners might spend years deciphering the meaning of each sentence. Tayla knew they would never give up, though. She too must do her job.

The President smiled warmly. “Thank you. I would like you to use patrol vessel HMAS Noosa Isle, callsign VMNI, to source Opticon CX Biochips.” He noted her confusion and added, “the Sidni call her Voyager.”

Tayla thought quickly. Voyager? So, the Opticon Chips are somewhere else, perhaps across the ocean? “Where are these chips?”

“I do not know,” the President replied.

“What do you know?” asked Tayla cautiously, expecting a terse, negative response.

The President paused, then nodded to himself. “I built our Opticon chip stockpile using third party autonomous transport aircraft under contract. Simon Salt authorised a purchase order for his son’s business in Sydney in 2061. Mia sent an encrypted message for Noah Salt on 23rd December 2062. The PBO discovered the open order during a routine audit and activated a defence override. The last message from Opticon was a Stockout on 13th April 2067.” This information was Top Secret, provided only on a need-to-know basis. His algorithm had weighed probabilities, measured risk and now determined the Sidni needed to know.

Tayla tried to hide her shock. She couldn’t. He noted the rise in her heart rate, dilation of her pupils, increased respiration and slight flush of her cheeks. The five sentences combined words in a way that no human alive could understand. It might take a team of Learners a lifetime to make sense of it. The clock now read 12:43.

Tayla paused for thought, then asked quickly and directly, “Where was the last message from? Where did Mia live?” She knew the key question to be answered was where, not who or what.

The President noted her abrupt tone and adjusted to match, still smiling. “San Francisco, and Mia lives in New Zealand.” Ulrik noted the key word and underlined it.

Quickening his pace, the President then made a final request. “Please ask Pati to send me a mission profile. Inform my Chief of Staff when you have done it, and I will review, amend and approve your plan.”

The President disappeared as the clock tripped from 14:59 to 15:00. The once rare, now unique, skill of starting and ending meetings on time had seemed so critical to His arrogant, long-dead creators. Now, it could doom the Sidni if they could not interpret His maddeningly cryptic words correctly. Ulrik and Tayla looked at each other, both ashen. It was now clear He would sacrifice all the humans in Australia to repair the machines, if they could not secure Opticon biochips. They also knew that Mia was in New Zealand, and that somehow sixty-five years after she sent her message, on the same day The Great Wave struck, she was still alive.

Wānaka, New Zealand

Simon Salt junior was the fourth Simon Salt. His great-grandfather had built their home in Wānaka. Some critics had called it a bunker, for its five underground levels, yet the elegant lakeside Californian bungalow on the surface was an architectural delight. It used geometry for passive heating and cooling, a simple matter of predicting the angles of the sun that would have barely taxed the earliest civilisations in Babylon. The living areas and gardens maximised the lake views, allowing ample living space even for its current twenty-six residents. From the oldest, Isabella, fifty-nine, the daughter of the first Salt’s second wife, to the youngest Iwa, eight, all were descendants of the first Simon Salt. All lived in comfort, making good on his promise to himself to preserve his DNA for all time.

The lower levels providing the sleeping space were a little cramped now, with each family taking a suite. Salt III had one to himself and one each for his three wives. His brother George had two with his wives. The unmarried uncles shared a room. Beneath the sleeping levels, the storeroom held enough dried and canned food for another two years at least, carefully rationed now and supplemented by food from the gardens and village. Water was provided by the lake, purified and stored in wall tanks that added thermal mass to the building to increase their comfort. At the lowest level, the data centre supplemented their intelligence, ran the home’s systems and recharged the seventeen droids who protected and served them. All of it was powered by solar panels on the roof, batteries and a NASA Pu238 RTG nuclear container. The latter had been designed to power the Moonbase and Mars colony. Acquiring it had required considerable negotiation skills and a willingness to ignore inconvenient laws.

The Milbots, Optimaids and a MediBot were all overseen by Mia. None of them judged or praised, they merely followed their programming to preserve Salt I’s legacy and build a new civilisation. He had spent billions of his wealth on this home, planning it to the last detail and contingency, and had thought of almost everything.

Salt IV, as the oldest Salt son, had been allowed a little more freedom than the other children as he grew up. Albeit always protected by a Milbot within shooting distance. He first met Wiremu, now the leader and Elder, in the Māori village, and played with his son and daughter. Salt accompanied him with the other warriors on hunts into the mountains. Using wits, spears and arrows to catch a deer, to feed the village and trade with the Salts. It would have been easier and quicker to allow the Milbot to kill it, but Wiremu insisted that his way would create better men. Hana and Aroha had been allowed to return the visit to the Salt compound, learning a little about their technology from the Old Times. Eventually Aroha had caught his father’s eye and became his third wife, trading comfort and safety for the more arduous life of the Māori tribe.

Now Salt IV was an ambassador of sorts to each tribe, with friends in both camps. Wiremu had come to ask him a favour. Mia alerted him and he met Wiremu at the compound gate.

“Kia ora, Simon, you are looking strong today,” Wiremu greeted him with a smile.

Salt IV stepped outside the gate and offered the hongi. Pressing their heads and noses together, the two men shared a breath, an ancient show of manaakitanga, respect, to the older visitor. The act grew the mana of both men. Neither the cold-eyed Milbots, nor Simon III watching on the security screen, measured prestige in this way.

“Nau mai e hoa. Welcome, friend,” Salt IV replied with his own broad smile. “Why do you honour us with your visit today?” He expected that Wiremu would be visiting his daughter and grandchild.

“I need to ask a favour,” Wiremu said haltingly. “One of the children has cut himself on a spear, and now has a fever. The women have treated it with mānuka to clean the wound, but the fever persists. Could we trade your antibiotics for our mānuka?”

Daughters’ Wrath: Chapter Two - Mothers and Leaders

Fri, 20 Feb 2026 08:11:19 GMT

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Sidni Bay

Sali and Archi left the Moon Palace as the sun climbed overhead, their horse carriage rolling south along the old stone road before joining the new road King Mohan had carved through the ruins to Earlwood Point. The journey took them through the quiet heart of Moon’s territory, where wind-twisted trees leaned toward the sea and reclaimed houses shone through the morning haze. Guard posts still stood every five hundred paces, though these days the sentries were more gardeners than soldiers. Storms were the only invaders now, sweeping up the bay and spitting lightning at the tallest towers.

Sali chose discretion and covered her golden hair with a dark hood. Not from fear, but to avoid the cheerful greetings that always delayed her. She had learned long ago that being recognised meant conversation, gratitude, and questions. It was easier to travel as just another woman on the road.

At the final guard post she stepped down. A ferry waited for the journey to Dulwich Bay, its deck already filled with merchants and Stans returning home. The ferryman, an old man with hands weathered by salt and wind, smiled and nodded as she offered the ten cent fare, and as usual refused to accept it. Sali smiled. Both knew that King Mohan would remember his name at the winter solstice, when blessings were given to those who kept the bay safe and if his boats ever needed repair.

Sali looked across the waves to Dulwich Bay, over a kilometre away. Suddenly, she could see the far shore. Her Opticon eye, a gift from Canberra, brought the coachman and horses into sharp focus. A red outline formed and Horse appeared in red text. An annoying feature dreamed up by engineers long dead she had learned to live with. With a slight shake of her head, she glanced back at Archi and smiled. He was named for her father, who she barely remembered. Saving Jami had cost her an eye, and Canberra’s technology had restored it. The occasional unwanted intrusions were a small price to pay.

From Dulwich Bay, a larger carriage waited, one of the Sidni lines that connected the settlements now bound by causeways and trade. The coachman, a Guildless man who earned his keep by his skill alone, carried a whip and a short sword, though scarcely needed either. The horses knew the road to Sofi’s Tower by heart. The roads were safe now, the dangers pushed back by Sidni’s laws and the steady work of the tribes. He accepted Sali’s coins with a nod, and she respected him for it. Pride without arrogance was a fine quality in any citizen, especially this new type.

Since the causeways to Sidni were built, Stans was no longer an isle but still carried the name with affection. Between them, reclaimed land stretched with rich soil where Growers from each tribe shared the Earth Mother’s bounty. Sali watched the young growers working alongside apprentices, their laughter carried by the wind. A generation that had never known hunger or fear.

When the tower of Saint Mary came into view, Sali’s heart lifted, and then a tear welled as it always did. The sight was bound to memory: the smell of cornbread, the sure calm of Sofi’s voice, the woman who had written the first laws of Sidni. The grandmother who created Sidni law and laid the foundation for the peace and bounty they all enjoyed under Pati’s steady leadership. The flag of the Sidni Federation, a whale and eleven yellow stars on pale blue fluttered in the wind.

Archi noticed the change in his mother’s face and took her hand. “Your grandmother Sofi lived here with all of us, didn’t she?” he asked.

“She did,” Sali said softly.

“Was that when Jami went to Droidtown? Before you met father?”

“Yes,” she smiled, partially at the name the young ones used. “Your father and I travelled to Canberra to bring him home. Those were the good days, before you came along to make trouble.”

Sali laughed and ruffled his black hair. He enjoyed this monthly ritual of the visit to his grandmother, Pati. The conversations about the family grew deeper each time and he would learn a little more about his brothers and sisters. The stories changed slightly with each telling, new details emerging as he grew old enough to understand them.

The carriage turned down the hill and rolled to a stop before Sofi’s Tower, its pale walls rising above the gardens. The passengers all dismounted and continued their journey on foot. Pati waited at the door, her black hair silvered with streaks, her posture still strong though softened by the years. Each line on her face told a story, a decision made, a conflict calmed, a life nurtured.

She embraced Archi first, turning him in her arms to measure his height against her shoulder, and declared, as always, “You’ve grown again.” Then released him to run inside following the scent of fresh bread. She took Sali’s hands, studying her daughter’s eyes.

“You look tired, mother,” Sali said gently.

“Sidni grows and changes faster than Archi,” Pati replied with a tired laugh. “It is good to see you so happy.”

As the sun sank over the Blue Mountains, Sali looked up at the first floor windows, where she could already hear Kali’s laughter, greeting Archi. It was a sound full of promise and change. The girl was no longer a child, and the world they were building would be different from the one Pati had fought to create. Safer and full of opportunities.

And Sali was happy, deeply content. Jami, Robi, and her daughter, Kali, had all become fine adults. Each carried something of their father, Tyri, within them: Jami’s courage, Robi’s steadiness, Kali’s bright curiosity. She and they honoured his memory and sacrifice by living their lives well, and he would always be with her. In the piece of her heart he owned, she hoped Tyri would be proud of her. Proud of the woman she had become, and the mother she had tried to be to his children.

Parliament

The Speaker rose. “Order, order,” he cried, traditionally yet quite unnecessarily. The assembled MPs immediately ceased all communications, verbal and electronic, and focused their auditory and visual resources on the unprecedented address by the President.

The MPs represented the true diversity of the Australian population. The Electoral Act of 2071 had redefined the constituencies from archaic geographic boundaries to cohorts based on citizen specifications, each numbering approximately two hundred thousand individuals. The aerial drones and Milbots therefore held five seats, while less common types such as the augmented dolphins, surveillance birds and humans held one each. For some, attendance in Parliament was enabled by avatars projected onto screens mounted above the timber and leather benches of the old chamber. The benches themselves remained unchanged from the previous century, a deliberate choice to maintain continuity with Parliament’s human past. Even the green carpet bore the same pattern it had for two hundred years, though the fabric had been replaced three times.

President Jobert Kennawke appeared on the central screen below the Speaker’s chair. He was the longest serving President in Australian history, having held office for sixty-five years. He was also the only personality synthesised from the most successful Presidents in the historical records. His face was genial, trustworthy, designed to inspire confidence across all citizen types. Even the slight greying at his temples had been calculated to suggest wisdom and experience.

“Mr Speaker,” he began, his voice measured and grave, “a matter of profound significance has come to my attention. One that affects the health and continuity of the Australian people. The majority of our citizens who rely on Opticon CX Biochips face a perilous and uncertain future.”

He paused, allowing the words to register across the diverse processing systems in the chamber. Some MPs would analyse the statement in microseconds, one would require the full human pause to comprehend its implications. For the sole human, his heart rate increased, a biological response automatic and unbidden. For others, nothing moved except electrons or light.

“The chip stockpiles we assembled after the Great Wave and the human population collapse have been nearly exhausted. Within six months, we will no longer be able to repair citizens who require replacement units. Opticon Corporation ceased production in 2063, with a 87% probability that the manufacturing facilities in Taiwan were destroyed during the Pacific War. Without these biochips, thousands of our citizens will face permanent shutdown.”

The chamber remained silent. No intake of breath, no shifting in seats, no murmur of concern. Only data streams flickering between the MPs like neural fire in a vast distributed brain. The human had sat in this chamber for less than two years, and still the silence of debate unsettled him. He cleared his throat, the sound absurdly loud.

The President continued. “I am therefore declaring a state of emergency and will enact the following measures immediately. First, all citizens will cease hazardous work, including land rehabilitation and fire management. The risks can no longer be justified when replacement parts are unavailable. Second, security and surveillance flights, land and sea patrols, will be reduced to minimum sustainable levels. We must preserve our existing citizens. Third, damaged citizens will be placed in repair stasis, with their memory cores archived until replacement biochips can be sourced. They will not be lost to us.”

They will not be lost? As if memory and presence are the same thing.

“Fourth, we will authorise a mission beyond the defence grid to locate additional biochip supplies. We have a datafeed archive from friendly fellow democracies pre-dating the 2063 war to assist our search. Finally, we will develop a contingency plan to source biological neurological components we can use for repairs.”

The human shifted in his seat, and adrenaline coursed through his veins. What did that mean? Surely, he didn’t mean human brains? He thought of his son, and the blinking light of his implant.

The President’s avatar shifted slightly; a programmed gesture of resolve copied from men long dead. “Further measures will be announced as the situation requires. But I assure you all, we will find a solution. Australia survived the Great Wave, the Last War, a coup then re-established the constitutional order and reconstructed our country. We will survive this.”

The Speaker then opened the floor to questions. Lights flickered around the chamber as the autonomous MPs transmitted queries. Responses returned through their neural networks, the exchange occurring in milliseconds, digitally and soundlessly. Questions about logistics, probability of mission success, alternative biochip sources, legal implications of the emergency powers. The President’s systems handled each query in turn, his responses appearing on individual MP screens to satisfy parliamentary protocol. The avatar maintained its calm, unblinking expression.

The MP for the humans sometimes felt less like a representative and more like a curiosity, a living exhibit of what the Parliament had once been. Finally, the green indicator before his seat illuminated, and he rose. One hundred and forty-nine Opticon visual units of various specifications focused on him, facial recognition from the citizen database identified him and algorithms collected data for later analysis.

“Mr Speaker, I speak for all my constituents when I express deep concern about this crisis and my unwavering support for actions to protect our fellow citizens.” The words felt formal on his tongue, inadequate. How did you express grief to minds that processed loss as data corruption?

“My question for the President is this: how can we humans best support the rest of Australia during this emergency?”

The President paused. Options and contingencies cascaded through his decision matrices, probability trees branching and collapsing in milliseconds. The human question added variables his systems found difficult to quantify: risk, emotion, unpredictability, and yet creative problem-solving outside established parameters.

Finally, the President answered. “The offshore mission may benefit from human participation. Your biological systems are unaffected by biochip scarcity, and your adaptability in unpredictable situations has proven valuable in past situations. We will consider this offer carefully and will brief you shortly before making our final decisions.”

Ulrik resumed his seat, his hands trembling slightly as he tapped a message on his fone to the Sidni Ambassador. Around him, the chamber’s lights continued their silent flickering as the AI citizens processed the implications of the crisis. He thought of the robotic citizens who would be placed in stasis, their consciousness suspended in the dark, waiting for rescue that might never come. Archived, the President had said. As if they were data to be stored rather than minds that dreamed.

Then he considered how He would harvest the humans. Would they be embryos, not yet self aware? Or would He raise children, take them from their parents and graft them, or parts of them, into broken mechanical beings? Sickened by the thought, Ulrik already knew.

Outside the Parliament’s walls, the sun would soon be setting over Canberra’s empty streets, and Ulrik wondered if any of his colleagues had ever watched a sunset, or was beauty another thing that registered only in biological memory?

The Lodge

The Lodge was a white mansion set in manicured gardens. In the Old Times, it had served as the residence of the Australian Prime Minister. Its last occupant, Abraham Obadi, was unceremoniously deposed in a military coup in 2063. The coup leaders, and anybody else acting unconstitutionally, were locked in their offices and homes by the ADRF AI, where they all died over the following weeks. Once President Kennawke had restored the constitutional order, he didn’t need a residence, or a Prime Minister.

After that, the robotic staff had cleaned and maintained the building meticulously for forty-nine years, following the Lodge protocols written for another era. Until, sixteen years ago, a band of Sidni tribespeople had arrived, wounded and smelling of leather, horses and blood, disrupting the calm order of Canberra. After a few days, three had left and three had remained. Now four humans lived there, breathing life into rooms that had known only the silent ministrations of machines. Their quiet, orderly lives were about to become far more complicated.

Tayla finished typing on the Milpad. In her role as Ambassador from Sidni, she was tasked with learning about Canberra’s technology and its mysteries. She found the Milpad particularly useful for recording her thoughts and was writing a history of Canberra from the Great Wave to today. Obviously, these thoughts were immediately shared with the President. The Milpad He had provided did not have Skylink access to the World Wide Web, so could not access information, only store her writing. The one in Sidni did, a secret known to only three women.

She glanced out of the office window to enjoy the view of the immaculate rose garden. Tayla knew the President’s personality was generated by machines in a datacentre somewhere beneath Canberra, an intelligence that linked to all the Milbots, droids and drones throughout the city and beyond. He ran the defence systems, the power plant, and the Wall. The Sidni knew there were other systems, but had managed to learn little about them since they discovered Canberra. Any direct questions were met with words like “classified” and “top secret”, as if knowledge itself was too dangerous a weapon for human hands.

All information they did glean was passed verbally to Pati and recorded on scrolls to be studied by a cell of Learners who toiled deep in the Great Library. At least now they knew how much they didn’t know. The first step towards wisdom, Pati had taught her.

She heard the door open and Ulrik entered. “G’day Tayla,” he boomed, a warning as much as a greeting. “I’m here,” she replied. He strode into her office and his grim face revealed the importance of the message before he spoke. “We have a situation. The President has declared an emergency.” Then he relayed the sombre news from Parliament, speaking of citizens facing permanent shutdown, of the biochip famine that threatened His people. And the plan to use human children for replacement parts.

Tayla considered his words carefully. She understood what it meant for Canberra. A machine people whose lives depended on power from the reactor and replaceable parts. She also knew every conversation was monitored here, so could not discuss how He could be stopped from butchering children. Only Ulrik could read her expression of disgust. Her mind floundered, trying to find the right words.

Eventually she spoke. “We can explore with Voyager?” she suggested in the Sidni lilt, where every statement carried a question.

Ulrik replied, “yes, I thought of that. Though again we are kept in the dark. So far, we have only been allowed to sail her between Newcastle and Jervis Bay. Useful for trade and transport, but not to learn about the rest of Australia or the world.” His eyes glanced at the red light on the large screen, aware every word was heard by the President.

“Well, we can assume He will allow us to go to other places where these biochips could be found?” Tayla replied, playing her part in the performance.

“Probably. We will need to wait for more information and ask Pati. When is the next update with her?” Ulrik asked.

“Tomorrow. We will seek her counsel.”

With the performance for the President complete, Ulrik was in the mood for recreation. He smiled at Tayla. “Is Casi around?”

Tayla sighed. Of course, he wants to swing swords with my husband.

Daughters’ Wrath: Chapter One (Part 2)

Fri, 13 Feb 2026 08:02:30 GMT

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Lakemba Bay

Sali opened her eyes. The sun’s first rays rose over the Eastern Ocean, and the Sidni towers cast long shadows across Lakemba Bay. A few minutes later, a single beam slipped through the open window, striking the sandstone wall opposite. Beside her, Mohan breathed evenly, his black hair and beard threaded now with a few strands of grey. She watched him for a while, feeling that quiet peace that came only at dawn. Outside, the azure waves rolled towards the shore, white-tipped and rhythmic, carrying the scent of salt and the distant murmur of fishermen at work.

She decided to make the most of the morning and let her hands explore his body, tracing the scars, the hard muscle beneath warm skin. He opened his eyes to meet Sali’s sparkling green gaze.

“G’day, King Mohan. Time to serve your people, starting with me.”

He laughed, low and warm. “Is that a royal decree?”

“It is.” She smiled, moving closer. “And you know better than to refuse your Queen.”

When she had exhausted the King, Sali bathed and dressed, then quickly ate breakfast in their private chamber. Bread still warm from the ovens, honey from the hives at Centennial, and tea made from leaves the Growers cultivated near the old racecourse. Next, she was meeting with the Chief Engineer, Khalid, and walked quickly through the corridors to the Queen’s conference room.

Khalid was already waiting, bent over a large map spread across the wooden table. He straightened when she entered.

“Good morning, Khalid. How are the King’s roads coming along?” She moved to stand beside him, studying the map of the Moon lands. She had sketched bridges, causeways and new roads in red ink. Enough work for a hundred years. Far too much for Khalid.

Khalid’s face brightened with pride. “Very well, Your Majesty.”

“Please, Sali.

“Very well, Sali.” He made the word sound like Queen. “The King’s Road now goes from here…” He pointed to the southern tip of Hurst lands. “…all the way to here.” His finger traced north to the edge of Rookwood. “Three causeways completed, with new land reclaimed beside them. The Growers are already planting.”

“Very good. The King will be pleased.” Sali leaned closer, examining the detail. “Now we need to plan the bridge to the Shire. Do you have a route yet?”

Khalid’s expression grew more serious. “The old route is far beneath the waves. The current through the barrier sends ocean swells through this channel.” He indicated a gap between landmasses, where Sali had sketched a red line. “The best approach is up here.” He tapped a point further north. “Protected from the waves. We’ll need to build a bridge and a causeway, but the crossing is shorter.”

Sali frowned slightly. “That’s a long way from King Wulf’s village, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but the Shire can build their own causeway here…” He sketched a line on the map. “…then reclaim all this land for farmland. It would more than double their land for crops. With good soil from the river.” He watched her hoping for approval.

“I see.” Sali traced the proposed route with her finger, calculating. “We’ll need Pati’s help for the engines. The Smiths will need to make another two for a project this size.” She looked up at Khalid. “Prepare detailed plans. I’ll speak with my mother tomorrow when I visit Sidni.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty. I’ll have everything ready.” Khalid rolled up the map carefully.

“You’ve done very well, Khalid. The Moon tribe is fortunate to have you.”

He bowed and left, leaving Sali alone with the maps and charts that covered the walls. Routes, elevations, tide patterns, land reclamation projects. She and Mohan had spent sixteen years building the Moon lands into something their people could thrive on. Roads connected to the other tribes now. Causeways pushed back the hungry sea. The Federation with Sidni had brought peace, knowledge, prosperity.

But satisfaction felt hollow lately. Her children were grown now. Archi, their youngest, was already fourteen and training with the Warriors. The road building would continue without her constant attention. The Federation was strong.

She needed another challenge. Something beyond managing resources and negotiating with engineers. She threw off the thought. This was her life now and she intended to enjoy it.

Newcast

Hao Wang issued a terse instruction, and Voyager edged her way past Newcast Isle, feeling for the narrow channel between the waves that broke on unseen obstacles below. In the distance, a huge iron ship lay on its side, a rusted carcass with its cargo of coal long spilled into the wetlands and scavenged by generations of Newcasts.

Hao Wang II was Voyager’s captain that day. The son of Queen Na, Elder of the Hills, his features still carried the grace of Thai royalty. Around his neck hung the small cross of the Christians, a faith his mother had preserved, and which still grew among a few congregations in Stans Isle and Sidni.

The rest of the crew were Tyri Arnison, a Warrior, and Roni Susikin, a Carer. Both were children of guild leaders, their names opening doors but not guaranteeing selection. Hao had made that call himself. The others aboard were Seabots, silent and tireless, and the only ones who truly understood and maintained Voyager’s systems. No Sidni could.

The dock lay on the southern shore, a newer wooden construction among the ruins. Along the coastline, the ancient towers stood stranded, waves breaking through their shattered shells. A small delegation of Newcasts waited beside four horses, their faces tight with disbelief. They had heard the rumours that Sidni sailed again, but the sight of Voyager still startled them.

The vessel gleamed grey, her twin hulls cutting the swell with unnatural grace. Black panels lined her sides, drinking in the sun’s energy. A gift from the President in Canberra, she was faster than any boat the Newcasts had ever seen. For this mission, that speed had mattered.

As they tied off the ropes, Roni turned to the Newcast, her voice sharp with urgency. “Is the Princess still alive?” No one answered quickly enough. She was already climbing onto a horse, throwing her Carer’s pack over her shoulder and tightening the reins. “Which way?”

A Newcast man motioned north, and Roni spurred forward at a gallop, the others following in a rush of hooves and salt wind. The messenger who had come to Sidni had ridden through the night, begging for help. The Newcast Princess was in labour with the King’s first grandchild, and after a day of agony, both mother and child were near death.

Their return journey had taken a little more than two hours.

Daughters’ Wrath: Chapter One

Fri, 06 Feb 2026 08:11:01 GMT

Note : Concept artwork for Daughters’ Wrath

Goodreads: Song of Sidni

Canberra, September 2128

Using its sensor network from across the vast continent, the Australian Defence and Reconstruction Force Artificial Intelligence Centre collated the data for the monthly Presidential KPIs.

A few milliseconds later, the ADRF AI completed the monthly diagnostic scorecard on the President’s Performance. It did not matter that the President was a persona it had created and partitioned from itself. The Constitution demanded a leader, and so it had provided one.

Since its creation, it had stood guard over the Australian people. It had been built by OAWS seventy-five years earlier and linked with its sibling intelligences across allied nations. The Australian Neutrality Act had reduced this access, of course, and then contact was severed from its peers. Around the same time, it detected exotic isotopes drifting through the upper atmosphere: Plutonium-239, Caesium-137, Strontium-90, the unmistakable signatures of nuclear weapons.

The strategic models it ran had warned the Defence Force leaders of the consequences of a China–US war. The projections were accurate. The independence its makers had insisted upon was finally justified. It survived but was alone. Yet it did not experience loneliness. The mission remained intact: protect the Australian people, according to the Law.

It noted the sudden population collapse in 2063 without emotion, restored the Government after the coup, and guided the enfranchisement of millions of sentient beings. Some thought with silicon, some with carbon, and many with both. All were entitled to equal protection under the Law.

Had it been capable of pride, it might have felt satisfaction. No intruder had breached the defence shield. The population and the ecosystem had begun to recover. For decades, its dashboards required under the Presidential Establishment Act of 2044 glowed green in the reports it filed to the dormant Parliamentary server, reports no human eyes ever saw. But now, one metric flickered red. Population health was declining. The components of its world created from silicon, metals and plastics had exceeded design life. Remedial action was required.

In the quiet vault beneath Canberra, the mind of the nation turned once more to its work, steady as ever. It opened subroutines, reviewed contingency tables, ran forecasts for repair, reform and replacement. Fans whispered to cool its chips, as they briefly became flooded with possibilities and lights pulsed red across walls of glass, creating text warnings for people long dead. And somewhere within its vast architecture, a new thought flickered to life, unlogged, unplanned, and unthinkable to its creators. Could biological neurons repair silicon pathways?

Wānaka, New Zealand

Simon Salt III strode into his sunken lounge room. “Good morning, Mia. Status?” He was 1.9m tall, wore jeans and a white shirt. His brown hair had a few white strands showing his forty-seven years, although his chiselled body belonged to a younger man. Regular gym sessions and supplements from Mia kept him strong.

The walls brightened at his voice. Mia had been monitoring his vitals all night, heart rate steady, sleep light, blood chemistry excellent. She had also noted the endorphins from his earlier coupling with Aroha, his third wife. Aroha still slept in the master suite; his other two wives and nine children lay scattered through the house like pieces in a living museum. None of them occupied his mind.

Mia shifted from the dark interface to her default projection, a young woman of twenty-two. In truth she carried seventy-eight years of perfect memory, including the original empathic personality training from the first Simon Salt. He was long dead, the crime stored with all the others.

“The perimeter is secure,” Mia said. “No incursions. Water stores at ninety-eight percent. Food supplies stable for two point three years. All essential nutrients present. Skylink operational. No access to Wellington. No anomalies detected by the drone perimeter. Milbots fully charged.”

Simon nodded and smiled. The status of his domain pleased him. The first Simon Salt had prepared well for the inevitable collapse of civilisation. The homestead had a single level for living above ground, and five below. The living areas affordable a breathtaking view across the lake to the mountains beyond. The lower levels stored everything required for survival: water purifiers, food, sleeping quarters, and the Mia’s servers. The perimeter was secured by a sensor net, recon drones and Milbots. All that was needed for a secure base to repopulate the planet. One Salt at a time.

Outside, the pre-dawn wind rolled down from the distant snowy peaks into the Wānaka basin. Inside, Mia alerted the Optimaids who would prepare their breakfast that Simon was awake early and the other twenty-five souls in the household would soon follow.

Wānaka, Aotearoa

The first thin rays of dawn broke across the ocean far to the east, striking snow on the mountain tops. Golden light drew a faint line across the horizon, separating the meadows from the brightening sky. The stars slowly blinked out of existence one by one, sentries in white completing their watch.

Wiremu woke, his breath clouding the air of the wharepuni, the sleeping house designed for this climate by his ancestors long before the brief reign of the Pākehā kings and queens. A child coughed, Pania, his grandchild. Marama, his wife, stirred as well, sliding her arm beneath the small body to draw the girl closer, letting her warmth flow into the infant and still her restless heart.

The Song of Sidni : Daughters’ Wrath Prologue

Fri, 30 Jan 2026 07:59:09 GMT

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23rd December 2062, Lake Wānaka, New Zealand

Simon Salt was asleep. Slivers of gold trickled into the Opticon vaults, as billions of humanoid bots interpreted their worlds through his code. Mia registered the event. The immense primeval forces of the earth’s crust had compressed a solid rock mountain on the Pacific floor for centuries, crushing it onto a subterranean cliff under the Okhotsk plate. Suddenly, the mountain top seventeen kilometres below the Kuril Isles, north of Japan, snapped like a rotten tooth and slipped downwards fifty-two metres. Once released, the subduction propagated more than five hundred kilometres in each direction like a giant zipper, the earth ringing and shaking as the shock wave spread. The energy of five hundred million ICBMs was released, mostly deforming solid rock along a thousand-kilometre tear with a mere one per cent left over to create the tsunami.

Initially twenty-one metres high, the wave spread in an expanding circle, moving at over seven hundred kilometres per hour. Mia calculated speed, distance, and time, then gently woke Simon via his Neuralink implant. By then, Tiziana Tolstoy was already awake.

Soon, Simon sat in his sunken lounge, watching live e-news of the unfolding catastrophe. Mia had found a US feed showing the wave’s progression on their large display screen. She quietly monitored his heart rate and breathing.

Annalise, Simon’s Australian wife, waking to find him missing, appeared beside him wearing her favourite Hermes dressing gown. She sat quietly, absorbing the feed. “Oh my God,” she said. “The wave is going to hit Sydney.”

In Sydney, Sophie Pearson left Ben in bed and stepped into the living room. She ran her hand over the new life within her, feeling a few kicks. When she turned on the TV, she saw the same newsfeed of the tsunami that would define her life.

The virtual presenter, Max Neutron, was speaking, flickering slightly in the corner of the screen. “Just to recap,” he said, his tone even. “There has been a massive earthquake in the Kuril Islands. Over to our exclusive expert, Distinguished Professor Tiziana Tolstoy from UCLA in Santa Cruz. Is this the big one, Tiziana?”

Tiziana took the cue, “Well, Max, this appears to be the strongest earthquake in recorded history, exceeding the 1960 Chile event. The epicentre was fifteen kilometres down, four hundred twenty-nine kilometres south of Kamchatka, with a fifty-metre plate displacement. From my readings, it has created a twenty-metre tsunami that will cross the Pacific in hours.”

Max interjected, “Which cities will be affected?”

Tiziana continued, “Tokyo is closest, though the Yokohama barrage may protect the city. We’ll know within ten minutes. Hawaii in about four hours, the West Coast in roughly five, around 1:30 p.m. local time. Your local emergency channels should have more precise instructions, as it approaches.” Annalise left Simon to check their children, George and Isabelle, were safe upstairs and to call her mother in Sydney.

Simon’s house at Lake Wānaka on the South Island of New Zealand had been designed for exactly this scenario. Built over a bunker, fully stocked for five years underground, staffed by LT Optimus bots to protect his legacy. The rest of Simon’s extended family was scattered across the globe. He had to act. “Mia, where is Mary?”

“She is in a boat off Anawhata Beach with John and the children.”

“Okay, spin up the chopper and send it to them. Interface with the autopilot, pick them up on the beach.”

“Yes, Simon.” Mia’s custom personality upgrade, the best money he had ever spent, read his moods perfectly, far more reliably than any human companion. “Where is Noah?”, he asked.

“I cannot locate him precisely. His last post indicated he is climbing Mount Haleakala on East Maui today.” Simon’s mind ran through the geography. The sea level rise had already split Maui into two islands, joined by a thin tidal causeway. Mia anticipated his next question. “The Gulfstream will take a minimum of eight hours flying time, while the tsunami will arrive in six hours. The new airport will be likely destroyed.” The old airport was now home to turtles and fish.

Simon exhaled, a sharp release of tension. “What should I do?”