by Eric Brown
“Three years ago I was involved in an accident which killed my daughter,” I began.
I’d taken Carrie across the straits to the fun-fair as a birthday treat. It had been a great day, one of those special times together that live in the memory. On the way back we’d chatted about the various rides; I’d bought a couple of hot dogs and we’d chomped them on the deck, leaning against the rail and watching the waters churning away far below us.
I saw the ship that hit the ferry, seconds before the impact. It was a tanker, and it seemed to appear from nowhere. As the great mountain of metal bore down on us, I experienced that strange frozen clarity of knowledge when the eye sees impending disaster, and the brain is aware of exactly what will happen but the body fails to respond.
I just stared, a cry silent on my lips.
Carrie had not seen the looming hull of the tanker, and the impact, when it sliced the ferry almost in two, brought an expression of cartoon startlement to her pretty face.
A second later she was pitched over the rail and into the sea. The ferry tipped and I dived in after her, thrashing through the turbulent water in search of the most precious thing in my life. I caught sight of her, once, twice, as she was dragged under the waves and tossed around like something inanimate. I heard her cries and I fought through the water to reach her…
That was the last I recalled. When I regained consciousness, my head swaddled in a compression band, I was in hospital and my wife was at my bedside. She was weeping uncontrollably, and I knew that her tears were not for me.
Now I told my friends what had happened, and how a thousand times over the years I had berated myself for not having had the strength to save my daughter’s life.
“In the dreams,” I said, “Carrie screams and stares at me as she’s carried away, her eyes accusing. I want to be rid of those dreams.” I tried to smile. “That’s why I came to Magenta,” I went on, “partly to get away from Earth… partly to confront myself with the sea. To try to banish my fear.”
I stared out at the thrashing bay, and I knew it hadn’t worked. Hawk said, “When would we be lifting the crate, David?”
I shrugged. “There was no set time.”
He stood, staring down at us. “In that case I’ll think about it, okay? I’ll…” He looked at his wrists, at the scars that puckered his flesh. “I’ll think about it,” he whispered, turned and hurried from the Mantis.
Matt glanced at his watch. “Dammit. It’s almost ten…” He glanced at me, his eyes tacitly telling me not to tell Maddie about his meeting with Marrissa. “I’ll be back in an hour. We need to talk this over.”
Maddie watched him leave the ship without further explanation. “It’s not like Matt to hurry anywhere.” Something in her face told me she suspected I knew more than I was saying.
I shrugged, avoiding her eyes.
She went on, “Did you pick up that woman he knew, David?”
I nodded. “An old friend from way back.”
“I saw her last night,” Maddie said. “An alien. She’s staying at one of the beachfront villas.”
I looked through the viewscreen. Matt had climbed aboard his hopper and steered away from the ship, heading not directly for Marrissa’s chalet, but taking a circuitous route. I guessed he wanted to spare Maddie’s feelings, had she been watching.
I tried to change the subject. “Do you think Hawk will come round, pilot the ship?”
She shrugged. “Hawk’s not an easy soul to judge…” She shook her head. “Who knows?” She stopped suddenly, stood and moved to the viewscreen.
“There’s Matt,” she said, like a schoolgirl with a crush.
I got up and joined her. Matt had left his hopper somewhere and was walking towards Marrissa’s chalet along the beach, leaning against the raging wind. I hoped he’d get what he wanted from the meeting—an absolution from the one he’d loved, all those years ago.
Maddie said, “Isn’t that the alien woman’s place?”
Matt had paused at the foot of the stairs to the chalet, looking up at the lighted rectangle of the window. The door opened quickly. I saw the woman’s figure as she stepped aside to allow Matt’s entry.
I glanced at Maddie. She was holding onto the ledge of the viewscreen, something in her eyes telling me that she was dreaming of how things might have been between her and Matt, in a perfect world.
I was about to tell her that it had been over between Matt and Marrissa for a long, long time—but then I saw Maddie’s expression. She was leaning forward, gripping the rail, and staring horrified at the chalet. I followed her gaze and saw the quick blue illumination—the second, presumably—from within the building. Before I could work out what was happening, Marrissa appeared, hurrying through the door, hastily concealing a laser pistol inside her shirt. She ran down the steps and jumped into a hire car, started the engine and roared off at speed. I felt a cold dread grip my throat, choking me.
The next thing I saw through the viewscreen was Maddie. She had left my side, quit the ship and was struggling through the wind and the wet sand. I called her name and gave chase.
The strength of the wind surprised me. It battered me back as I attempted to run down the ramp after her. I leaned into its force, fighting for every step. The rain was a deluge that soaked me in seconds. Piled clouds obscured the sun, bringing premature night to Magenta. I slogged through the sand, peering through the gloom to where Maddie was a tiny, wind-harried figure, her cape flapping like a broken wing. As I watched she finally reached the chalet and pulled herself up the steps.
I was close behind her. I ran up the steps in time to hear her anguished moan turn into a scream. I held my arms out to her as she turned, meaning to hold her, in some small way try to console her in her grief.
Maddie just stared at me, her expression ravaged, then pushed past me and fled into the night.
I stood on the threshold and stared into the lounge.
Matt lay on the floor, face down, unmoving. I stared at the body in disbelief, going over the events that had led to this… And then it hit me, and it was too much of a hope to harbour.
I stepped forward, towards the body, reached out, sick lest my hand should encounter real, solid flesh.
I should have known. I should have known that Matt was too wise to let himself be killed by an aggrieved alien lover, too intelligent not to know how to stage the tableau of revenge—and save himself in the process.
My hand reached out and passed through the body’s chest as if it were a ghost.
A voice spoke from the door. “I had to do it like this, David.”
I turned. It was Matt, standing in the entrance and staring at me. I thought that he would have been triumphant, or at least relieved, but his expression was defeated, deadened. After all, how often is it that we are chased to the ends of the galaxy by an ex-lover, and to all intents and purposes assassinated?
Now I knew why Matt had claimed to Hawk that there was no room in his life for romance…
“Maddie!” I cried, leaping to my feet. I pushed past a startled Matt, out into the storm. Visibility had decreased, Delta Pavonis totally blotted by storm clouds. I looked right, along the beach to the Mantis, but there was no sign of Maddie. I set off in the opposite direction, towards the Fighting Jackeral, thinking that she might have sought refuge there.
I was halfway towards the Jackeral when I saw her. She was a miniature figure in the distance, mounting the steps to the jetty and running along its length.
I called her name again and gave chase.
The wind was an inimical physical force, and in the frenzied minutes that followed it came to me, like the improbable notion of a nightmare, that the wind was indeed hostile to me and my attempts to save Maddie. It was no longer a mindless force of nature but a force possessed of evil intent. I reached the jetty and ran up the steps, slipping on the slick, wave-washed boards.
Maddie was a wind-blown shape approaching the end of the jetty. I sprinted, screaming at her in desperation,
but the wind snatched at my words and flung them in the opposite direction.
She had come to a halt at the very end of the sodden stretch of lumber, teetering on the edge as she stared oblivion in the face.
I cried out, “Maddie! Matt’s okay! He’s alive! Maddie—please listen!”
She didn’t hear a word. As if in slow motion she pitched herself into the raging maelstrom of the bay—and seconds later I reached the edge and peered over.
She was a storm-tossed doll, battered by the waves, temporarily kept afloat by the chance inflation of her cape. But even as I watched, the swollen garment withered and Maddie was dragged under.
Seconds later she emerged again, further out, a panic-stricken whirl of arms and sodden hair.
Fear stopped me diving in, fear and the nightmare in my head. I was on the ferry again, and it tipped, and took from me everything I loved, and—despite everything I had told my friends—I had been too weak, too ineffectual, to do anything about it. Now I could act, but something stopped me—a fear that gripped like a fever—until a voice in my head soothed my nightmares and told me that I could do it, I could atone by saving Maddie, or attempting to save her.
I hesitated, but the voice insisted. And I dived.
The muscled might of the salt water was a shock. It grabbed me, tumbled me over and over. I was dragged under, spluttering, and then resurfaced far out. I attempted to orient myself, work out in which direction was the shore, and from there guess where Maddie might be. I caught a glimpse of the looming jetty, and turned—and there was Maddie, perhaps ten metres from me.
I fought my way through the waves, my progress a frustrating process of two metres forward and one back as the waves dragged and flung me. But I was gaining, even though Maddie was dragged under again and again. She disappeared, then bobbed up again, screaming.
I reached where she had been, but she was gone, and in a terrible second it came to me that my efforts had been futile. Not only would Maddie die, but in attempting to save her I would suffer the same fate.
At that moment I saw her, two arms’ lengths away. Gagging, I lunged and made a frantic grab for the cape, caught it and dragged Maddie towards me—and she struggled and screamed at the thought of the hell to which salvation would commit her.
Shouting at her in frustration, I snagged her around the neck in a desperate embrace, and the contact of flesh on flesh—the surge of my fear, anger, and sudden joy—hit her and she ceased to struggle.
Then, as if ordained by some miracle, the storm abated and the Ring of Tharssos appeared between the darkened clouds and illuminated the bay, and I kicked out through the waves towards the safety of the shore.
Matt was on the beach and helped me carry Maddie back to the ship. We hauled her into the lounge. She was spluttering salt water and crying, and she saw Matt and reached out for him, touched his hand and cried out as if burned and pulled away. Matt, tears in his eyes, gripped her shoulder through the cape as I fetched towels to dry her, and a bottle of brandy.
“I thought you were dead!” she wailed at Matt.
“It’s a long story,” I said. “Matt will explain everything later, okay?”
Not longer after that, with Maddie wrapped in towels and shivering before a heater, Hawk appeared in the doorway and limped across to us. He seemed not to notice the tousle-haired Maddie, was unaware of the drama recently enacted—too occupied, no doubt, with his own conflicting emotions.
“I’ve been giving it a lot of thought,” he said at last, staring at each of us in turn, “and I’ll do it. I’ll fly the ship.”
Maddie was the last to leave the Mantis that night. Hawk and Matt said goodbye around midnight, solicitous for Maddie’s welfare, but she assured them she was fine now.
Maddie huddled on a lounger, holding a big brandy glass in both hands—the glass swaddled in the protective cuffs of her blouse.
I must admit that I wondered when she might leave. I had the feeling she wanted to be alone with me, maybe to thank me for saving her life, and the thought made me uncomfortable.
Now she looked up from her glass and stared at me. “Back then…” she said, sounding as uncomfortable as I felt. “In the water—”
I waved her words away. “Maddie… Let’s not talk about it, okay? You were drowning. I had to do it—”
She was shaking her head. “I don’t mean that,” she said. “I mean… Look, when you grabbed me, I felt everything, your pain, your grief…”
I nodded. “Of course, I realise that.”
“David, I also experienced the truth. What really happened on that ferry.”
I stared at her, my mouth open.
She hurried on. “I’m not here to point the finger, David. There’s no blame involved. What you did, or didn’t do… who knows how anyone else might have reacted in the circumstances? You’ve suffered enough grief and guilt over the years.” She smiled at me. “I just wanted to tell you that I understand, okay?”
Unable to find the words to respond, I merely nodded.
I had told my friends what had happened that fateful day aboard the ferry, but it had been an edited version of events, a scenario tailored to avert blame and castigation.
For when the tanker had sliced into the ferry and pitched Carrie into the sea, I had remained on the listing deck, paralysed by terror, watching my daughter being swept away—and only the accidental spilling of the deck and its contents into the water had thrown me into the sea after her. I had tried frantically to reach Carrie, but by then it had been too late. The churning waves had carried her under, and unconsciousness came to me like blessed oblivion.
I had been truthful about the nightmares, however. In them, Carrie did appear and accuse me… and rightly so.
Now Maddie stood and held her arms out to me. “David, you can’t undo what you did, but you shouldn’t hate yourself for what happened.”
And she reached out and took me and accepted my pain, and I went to her.
THIRTEEN
The following day we reconvened at the Mantis.
Hawk lay in the suspension cradle which hung from the ceiling of the control room. Leads snaked up from his wrists, spine and head—not jacked into his ports, but fastened to his skin by adhesive pads. These would interface with his neural pathways and allow him to fly the ship.
A screen hung before his eyes, scrolling figures only he could understand.
He glanced at us as we stood around him. “Just like the old days,”he said. “Well, almost.”
I noticed the beads of sweat gathered on his forehead, and the fear in his eyes.
“Are you sure you can fly this thing?” Matt said.
Hawk nodded, reading from the screen. “In principle it’s the same as every other crate I’ve flown. It’s just that some of the ways of doing things are a little different.” He smiled at us. “Hey, have faith. I’ll get us to where we’re going, and back.”
Maddie looked at me. “But you don’t know where we’re heading,”she said.
I shook my head. “I’m sorry.”
“Is that voice in your head to be trusted?”
“I trusted it when it told me to dive in and save you,” I said,
“when it said that I had nothing to fear, and had to atone for past failings. Don’t worry, whatever it is… it’s humane.” I smiled at using such a term to describe something so alien.
Matt said, “So… what now?”
I indicated the four recesses, two on either side of the viewscreen, which Hawk had discovered the other day. Now, thanks to the guiding voice in my head, I knew what they were for.
“We stand in these for a minute, fully dressed. We’re coated with a… a protective barrier, I suppose you could call it.”
Matt asked, “Protective from what?”
I was forced to admit my ignorance. “I don’t know. It’s a vital part of the process.”
I took the lead and stepped into the alien-shaped recess, which accommodated my form with room to spare. After a brief
hesitation, Matt and Maddie stepped into their own recesses. I heard a hiss all around me, felt a sebaceous tickle run over my skin. Within seconds the fluid had impregnated my clothing and I felt the oily layer coating me from head to foot.
I stepped back into the room. Matt quit his recess and touched the film between his fingers. He looked at me. “Strange. And you’ve no idea what it’s for?”
“I think we’ll soon find out,” I said. Maddie said, “And now?”
I pointed to the couches which, when Hawk had laid himself out in the suspension cradle, had ejected themselves from the floor. “We strap ourselves in. The ship does the rest.”
Again I took the lead, to show my friends that they had nothing to fear. I stretched out on the couch next to Hawk’s cradle, fastening the straps around my legs and torso. Seconds later something dropped from the ceiling, startling me. I stared up at the tiny glass bulb at the end of the sectioned, multi-jointed arm that bobbed inches from my forehead. I received the impression that it was examining me.
A beam of light lanced out, and I gasped. I was aware of Matt and
Maddie, watching with something like shock pasted onto their faces.
The light felt… soothing. “It’s okay,” I said. “I’m fine.”
I felt something energise within me, as if some latent force within my head had been unlocked. The beam persisted, connecting me to something in the ship that would draw power from my being.
Matt and Maddie lay down on their couches, and seconds later they too were connected.
Then the couches tipped as one, inclining forward so that we were sitting up and staring through the viewscreen.
I thought of the alien space-farers who had lain here before us, of the stars they had beheld on their voyages through the galaxy.
Where are we going, I asked the thing in my head, for perhaps the hundredth time. The alien deigned not to reply, but I knew it was there. “We’re powering up,” Hawk reported from his cradle. “Take-off in three minutes and counting…”
