Starship Home

by Morphett, Tony

  Slarn technicians had already cut their way onto his bridge and were now swarming around his console, opening panels and closing down functions under the gaze of the ship’s commander. Charles himself had manifested on Guinevere’s bridge, where he was making a hasty farewell to her. ‘Guinevere! They’re isolating my mind, I’ll lose control any second. Hide yourself, fly when you can. They’ve got Zachary and Marlowe. I love you, we’ll meet again. Au revoir …’ and then suddenly his image was no longer there. Transmission ceased.

  On Charles’s bridge, the technicians now stepped back from the console and saluted their commander, and she nodded, satisfied. Then through the open hatchway, marines dragged in Marlowe and Zachary. Using her translator, she said to them: ‘You seem to have corrupted our starship. Court is convened, the verdict is guilty. Bury them.’

  ‘Wherever I go, people are doing this to me,’ Zachary complained. ‘And what do you mean “bury them” when we aren’t even dead!’

  ‘Don’t bother me with details,’ said the commander and turned away as the marines dragged Zachary and Marlowe out of there.

  As they were dragged along a corridor, Zachary said to Marlowe, ‘Here’s my plan. You tell them you’re half-Slarn.’

  ‘No,’ said Marlowe.

  ‘Appeal to their softer side, you’re brothers under the skin, you’re proud to be one of them!’

  ‘I used to be, now I’m not and they don’t have a softer side. Would you like to be a half-breed Slarn?’

  ‘In the present circumstances, I wouldn’t mind being a full-blood Slarn.’

  ‘Your cowardice disgusts me. I am the son of Helena, my father’s people no longer mean anything to me.’

  ‘This is no time to get picky!’

  ‘You want me to beg?’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with begging as such. As they say, there’s a time to give and a time to beg and this, I put it to you, is just such a time.’

  They now reached a hatchway with signs in Slarn script on it, flickering lights by it, and heavy manual controls. Zachary turned to one of the marines. ‘I don’t like the look of this place. What is it?’

  ‘It’s an airlock,’ said the marine through his translator. ‘It’s how we bury people.’

  ‘You put them out the airlock into space?’

  ‘That’s how it’s done all right.’

  Another marine undogged the hatch. The flash-rate of the of the lights sped up, and a warning tone began chattering. ‘Please,’ said Zachary. ‘There’s something I have to tell the Commander. Something important.’ The marines pushed them into the airlock and began to close the door on them. ‘There’s a bomb on the plane!’ shrieked Zachary as the airlock door slammed shut. The airlock had two hatches, one into the ship, and the other into space. Through the port in the hatchway into space they could see slowly revolving stars. ‘There’s a bomb on the plane?’ echoed Marlowe, ‘I don’t even know what that means.’

  ‘It’s an early 21st Century threat designed to initiate an on-going negotiation process. First thing that came into my head.’ Zachary was interrupted by a whining sound. ‘You hear that whining sound? It’s not me, though I wish. It’s the air going out. And once the air is out and we’re holding our breath then they’ll open this other door and we’ll be in stationary orbit for the rest of Time. Or something. If Harold was here he could explain it. All of which is why I wanted to open negotiations.’

  ‘I’m sorry I called you a coward,’ said Marlowe. ‘You’re taking this very well.’

  ‘Sure I am,’ said Zachary, then started to beating on the door and screaming that he wanted to negotiate and when that didn’t work he fell to his knees, pretended to cry and claimed his mother was very ill and needed him, and when that did not work he fell silent and the only sound was the whining of the air leaving the airlock.

  On Guinevere’s bridge, the Wyzen was alternately purring and gorging on ship’s biscuits and gruel but what was uppermost in Zoe’s mind was the fate of Zachary, away up there in the Starship Charles de Josselin. ‘Do something, Guinevere,’ she was pleading, ‘we’ve got to get him back, we can’t just leave him up there!’

  But Guinevere was helpless. ‘There’s naught that I can do while Charles is locked off from control of his body.’

  ‘But Zachary’s up there in whatever Harold says stationary orbit is!’

  ‘And there for the moment he must stay.’

  Marine put an arm around Zoe’s shoulders and gave her hard comfort from her own military culture. ‘He saw his duty and he did it. “We buy our own wounds,” we say. And if there’s some duty that we cannot perform, there may be some other that we can.’

  Zoe was suddenly brought back to reality. ‘Helena! She’s dying, Guinevere, I have to be with her!’

  And she turned and ran out of there and was coming down the ramp as the Don and Meg rode into the clearing and dismounted. ‘It worked,’ Zoe cried, ‘Guinevere’s alive! I’m going to Helena, but lift-off’s in 24 hours. If I don’t get back by then …’ she paused, and then added, ‘I’ll guess I’ll see you around.’

  Meg looked stricken at the thought that she might not be seeing Zoe again, but embraced her and said: ‘I suppose you’re mature enough to make your own decisions.’

  ‘Always was. See you around, Don,’ she said and ran from them to hide her tears.

  The Don was looking at Meg speculatively. ‘The way she’s talking, you’ll be leaving with the rest?’

  ‘I …’ and she stopped, not knowing where her heart was, and therefore not knowing where her future lay.

  ‘You could be my wife. I’ll honor and keep you, treat you well, not even lock you up with the other women.’

  ‘You’d change your customs for me?’

  ‘You’ve taught me that a woman can be an equal partner. Perhaps our customs ought to change. Stay here with me? Please?’

  ‘I can’t decide,’ Meg stammered, ‘I have to see Guinevere.’ And she ran into the starship, leaving the Don glad that at least he had not received a “no”.

  In the airlock, Zachary and Marlowe were now lying on the deck, gasping for breath. ‘Always been able to talk my way out of anything,’ Zachary gasped. ‘Guess you can’t talk your way out of a vacuum.’

  ‘Save your breath,’ rasped Marlowe.

  ‘For what?’ Zachary replied, not knowing that at that moment their fate was being decided on the bridge of the starship, where the Commander and Charles were in negotiation. It was a poker game where Charles held one high card: without his total cooperation the starship was not going anywhere, and he had made it clear that he would be happy to orbit Earth forever if the lives of Zachary and Marlowe were not spared. When this had been put to the Commander she had been furious at Charles’s insubordination, but as the negotiation went on, with Charles not giving an inch, it had become clear that he meant what he said. Finally, the Commander conceded. ‘All right!’ she exclaimed, ‘so be it!’ and unlocked the bar on Charles’s freedom of action.

  Zachary and Marlowe lay motionless on the deck of the airlock, as the mechanism opening the airlock into space began to move, and a klaxon began whooping. Then suddenly the door mechanism stopped moving, the klaxon ceased whooping and Zachary and Marlowe vanished and a moment later re-materialized, this time on the deck of the bridge of the starship Guinevere!

  Marine went to Zachary, and dropped to one knee beside him, and once he had gulped in enough air to enable him to speak again, he said, ‘Have you people discovered mouth-to-mouth resuscitation? I think I could do with some.’ Not having the faintest idea of what he was talking about, Marine simply took off her translator mask and kissed him again and again, saying ‘Oh goodnight, Zachary, good night, good night!’

  Meg turned to Guinevere’s image on the main screen. ‘What happened? Why have they sent them back?’

  ‘Charles hath struck a bargain with the Slarn. Their lives for his willing service and ‘twas a small thing to them to reap so great a gain.’

/>   Meanwhile Marlowe was forcing himself to his knees, and then to his feet , getting his balance. ‘Have to go to my mother,’ he muttered, ‘if she’s still alive. Up there, I found out what was important.’ And he staggered out of there.

  The village was still. No work was being done. The Forester People sat cross-legged in rows about Helena’s hut, drawn to sit in vigil as people always are when awaiting the death of a great one. Silence hung on the village like a shroud.

  Within the hut, there was a sound, and it was the sound of Helena taking her last slow, rasping breaths while Zoe her sister and Maze her great-great-grand-niece watched and waited.

  Maze spoke. ‘Now Giniveer’s alive, you’ll go away with your people?’

  ‘I’ll sit here until my sister dies,’ Zoe replied, ‘and only then can I make a decision.’

  Helena slowly opened her eyes. ‘Go,’ she said. ‘You must go before I die.’

  ‘No!’

  Slowly Helena’s ancient voice regained some of its old power to command. ‘I was wrong to ask you to be Maze’s advisor. There are those in the village who are saying you’re the one. The chosen one who has returned from the dead. You must go now or there’ll be trouble.’

  Zoe looked at Maze, perplexed. ‘What’s she talking about?’

  Maze was solemn. ‘You’re from the past, from before the Great Exit. People are saying that you’ve returned from the grave. But I want you by me. I know that you won’t betray me.’

  As Zoe tried to take this in, Marlowe entered, crossed the red line which marked the area forbidden to men, moved unrebuked to Helena’s bed and knelt by it. ‘Is Zachary back, too?’ Zoe asked.

  Marlowe nodded but did not speak. And so in silence, their vigil continued. Helena was in deep sleep now, and her breathing was so slow that there were times they thought she had slipped away into death, until she breathed again.

  Marine was busy checking instruments and telltales on the bridge, while Zachary, Meg and the Don watched, and the Wyzen continued to pig out on ships’ biscuits and gruel. Finished with her pre-lift-off checks, Marine turned to the others with a worried frown. ‘She should be able to lift, but…’

  Guinevere broke in. ‘I feel more strong than at any time since I was sore wounded. One last thing remaineth to be added unto me. A crystal. It is in the hold.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ said Meg. For she was suddenly remembering herself bound, waiting to be sacrificed by Looters in the hold of the starship, and the Eldest looking with great interest at an open crate containing a glowing crystal about the size of a human head. ‘Eye of Dark One!’ he had shouted. ‘Dark One speak in my head, Dark One say give blood to my eye!’ and then he had taken the crystal and carried it to where, in front of the fire they had lit in the middle of the hold, the Looters had constructed a sacrificial altar from metallic crates. The Eldest had reverently put the crystal down at the centre of the altar, had made a minute adjustment, and then had nodded his satisfaction. ‘You remember?’ Meg said, ‘the Looters were going to sacrifice us and they found that crystal, and when you guys,’ she said to Zachary and Marine, ‘started firing Slarnstaff bolts at them, they ran out and the Eldest Looter took the crystal with him?’

  ‘Could’ve been another crystal?’ Zachary said.

  But when they went to the hold to look, they found it had not been. There was the crate which had once held the crystal which the Eldest had taken. Meg, Zachary, the Don and Marine stood staring at it. ‘I saw him run out with it,’ Meg said. The image of Guinevere manifested, and Meg turned to her. ‘Can you lift without it?’ Guinevere shook her head. ‘And the last time you can lift is?’

  ‘At noon tomorrow.’

  ‘So,’ Zachary said, ‘let me get this straight. It’s situation normal. Everything under control. The one thing we need has been captured by cannibals who are at this moment worshipping it somewhere within a 50 mile radius of where we stand? And there’s nothing we can use instead of it?’

  ‘Other crystals such as give life to Slarnstaffs,’ Guinevere said, ‘if linked, their powers might work?’

  Meg turned to the Don who was instantly on the defensive. ‘I need them!’

  ‘You give them up or you’ll have to evacuate all your people.’

  ‘I need them to bring civilization and order to the world.’

  ‘How oft have I heard that?’ exclaimed Guinevere.

  ‘You give them up,’ Meg said to the Don, ‘or I don’t marry you.’

  The Don did not reply. In the silence, Meg was beginning to tap her foot. She was showing a tendency to smoulder. ‘I’m thinking!’ said the Don.

  ‘You’d better think pretty fast, buster! The delay is getting somewhat insulting.’

  ‘No one’s ever paid a bride price like that. They’re worth a kingdom!’

  ‘And I am worth what?’ Meg’s eyes had narrowed to slits.

  The Don sighed, defeated. ‘Everything,’ he said.

  They reached Trollcastle without incident, and the Don ordered Ulf to fetch the Slarnstaffs, a task which Ulf delegated to Rocky, who beamed with pleasure and ran off to carry out the order. ‘You and Rocky have patched it up?’ asked the Don, and Ulf, with a giant smile replied, ‘Out on the plain, when all was lost, the boy saved the day like a true Troll.’ He looked at Harold. ‘Him too. They both won their spurs this day.’

  When Rocky returned with two Slarn general issue packs full of Slarnstaffs, the Don beckoned him and Harold, and drew his sword, and gestured that they should both kneel before him. They did so, and then he said, touching each of them in turn on their shoulder with his sword, ‘On the report of my faithful lieutenant Ulf, you have both become men this day. I dub you Sir Rocco Costello, and Sir Harold Lewin, worthy knights of the company of Trolls. Now rise.’ And as they did so, the Don turned to Ulf and said, ‘Get Sir Harold a sword and belt. I won’t have my knights ride naked.’

  In Guinevere’s feeding chamber, as the Don dropped one Slarnstaff after another into the feeding pit, each addition to the brew was greeted with the bubbling and hissing noise they had grown accustomed to. When only one Slarnstaff remained, he paused, and asked, ‘do you have enough yet?’

  ‘Nay,’ said Guinevere’s image.

  ‘And if I feed this last one to you will you then have enough?’

  ‘Alas, I will not,’ she answered.

  The Don turned to Ulf. ‘Get patrols out, find the Looters. We need that crystal they stole.’ Ulf went out, followed by Harold and Rocky, leaving Meg staring at the last Slarnstaff, still in the Don’s hand. ‘We had a deal,’ she said.

  ‘You heard the Lady Guinevere. If I feed this staff to her it still won’t be enough. But in someone’s hand, it could save us all by noon tomorrow.’ Meg glowered at him. ‘Now do you want to be angry with me, or do you want to help?’

  82: THE CHOOSEN

  The patrols went out and found no sign of the Looters. The deserted village had seemed like the obvious first place to look, but a house to house search found no one. They widened the search perimeter to no avail, and so, toward the end of day, the search returned to the village. A patrol, led by the Don, and consisting of Ulf, Meg, Zachary, Marine, Harold and Rocky, backed by other Trolls, again began a house to house search. When Ulf, Harold and Rocky entered what used to be the library, they found the smouldering remains of a fire and freshly gnawed bones scattered about. It had not been like this when they first searched, and it meant that the Looters had been here recently. Dirt was scuffed on the floor around the trapdoor which led down into the Looters’ tunnel system and Ulf lifted the trapdoor and took a deep breath. ‘I can smell them down here,’ he said, ‘tell the Don. We’re going to need torches.’

  In the forest village, a construction of logs and branches had been built in the centre of the village square. It was Helena’s funeral pyre, as tall as a woman and as long. Flowers were woven into it, and dry grasses of different shades of yellow and brown, and it was a thing of beauty, an offering for a beautiful li
fe which was soon to end. Near it, a burning torch was thrust into the ground, awaiting its moment.

  In Helena’s hut, she breathed in, and then out, and then in, and then out, and then … nothing. She had passed from life into death so imperceptibly that Zoe, Maze and Marlowe did not for a moment realize that she was gone from them. ‘Helena?’ said Zoe, and reached out and touched her sister, ‘’lena?’ she repeated, and then wailed, a terrible cry of loss and dereliction, and outside, her wail was echoed by the waiting forest people. They fell silent, and stood as Marlowe came out of the hut carrying Helena’s small frail body, flanked by a solemn Maze and a sobbing Zoe. Maze too felt like sobbing, but the mantle of leadership had fallen on her small shoulders and she knew that the right words had to be said.

  ‘Our mother is dead,’ she intoned.

  ‘As all shall die,’ responded the villagers.

  ‘She has joined the lost ones,’ said Maze.

  ‘As shall we all.’

  ‘We remember the Lost Ones,’ called Maze, ‘people of the Ponds, taken to the sky, we remember them!’

  ‘Those who went to the sky!’ came the response.

  ‘The Slarn came and took them, and now we remember.’

  ‘Remember them all!’

  ‘These are the lost families, these are the Lost Ones.’

  Silence fell, and then Maze began to recite, and as she said each name, the villagers responded with the single word ‘gone’ and the response became like a soft gonging sound echoing behind the list of the names of the lost people of Dalrymple Ponds. ‘Abernethy, Adams, Belisario, Brook, Cantarella, Cavanagh, Chung, Clark, Evans, Georgiou, Gauci, Henderson …’

  Zoe reacted to Meg’s surname, thinking Meg, you and your family have been remembered.

  ‘Holt, Janek, Kelly, Koch, Kowalevski, Lewin, McGregor, Mencken, Nhu, O’Grady, O’Hara,’ and then she paused before her own name and Zoe’s, ‘Poulos, Pritchard, Quong, Rogers, Stannard, Wright. These are the lost families.’