Space Trek (Three Novels, Three Worlds, Three Journeys Book 1)

by Jo Zebedee

  He lifted the cage. He had to say something, make sure she knew how important this was: mice could eat through cabling. He looked from one twin to the other, taking in the shared stance. This wasn’t just Karia’s doing.

  She was the one who looked up, though, her face pinched and worried. “Daddy, they were going to die if I left them on the base. Sonly couldn’t have made them better, they needed a healer.”

  “That’s right.” Kare’s head came up. “You said we had to practise psyching. It was hard for Karia, they were so sick.” He nodded at the neat cage. “And it took me ages to make the cage. It was hard without soldering.”

  Ealyn winced at the thought of his son practising metal-work onboard the ship, but his mouth twitched. The practice excuse was about the only one they might get past him. He found his anger melting at the kids’ huddled stance, their worry that they were in trouble. It was easy to forget they were only seven, no matter how smart and talented.

  One of the mice squeaked, loud in the quiet cabin. It appeared to be looking at him. What was he going to do with it now it was here? He thrust the cage at Karia. “If they get out, I’m putting them in a stew.”

  “You wouldn’t!” Her eyes went round.

  “Cool,” said her brother. “Mice stew, it’d be better than reconstituted.” He touched the cage, his fingers thin and nimble. “Go on, Karia, give us one–”

  “No!” She swung the cage to the side.

  Ealyn grabbed it. “Enough! They’ll escape if you keep flinging it around.” He took the cage. The damage was done and, short of killing Karia’s pets, he was stuck with them. “We’re teasing. But when we’re back on base they get handed to Sonly and she can take care of them.” He softened his voice; his kids had little enough, it was no wonder she wanted to keep them. “We can’t have mice. Not on a space ship. You know that.”

  She gave a small nod and he patted her shoulder. He wished he could find a way out of this mess to a normal life where she could have a colony of mice and he wouldn’t have to care. He turned away, his throat tight. He was lucky to have this small life together. If the price for it was living as he did, constantly on alert, he’d pay it; he couldn’t face the alternative, and the loss of them.

  ***

  After breakfast, Ealyn looked at his son. Today? He had to do it sometime– he’d been putting it off for months. He rocked back in his seat. “Any more dreams, Kare?”

  “Every night.” Karia pulled a face of disgust. “He talks in his sleep.”

  “I don’t.” But the boy didn’t sound his usual cocky self; the dreams, whatever they were, hadn’t been the deep ones of forgetful sleep.

  “You do. You tell me things when I ask you.”

  “Don’t.” The denial was too strong, almost desperate, and he gave Karia a shove.

  Every night? Worry gnawed at Ealyn’s insides. It couldn’t wait any longer; if the dreams were visions they’d start to cascade soon, and the boy had to be taught to control them. His hands had clenched together, and it was an effort to unclasp them. Could he teach the boy and not succumb? Surely after seven years of not Seering he could manage to show the boy once, and then keep an eye from a distance.

  “Kare.” His voice croaked past his tight throat. “Come with me.”

  He left, heading down the ship, Kare behind him, and tried to ignore the churning deep in his stomach, the low warning that this was a bad idea.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Kare followed his dad, trying to keep from showing his excitement, but it was hard. Dad had been teaching Karia Control for ages, but had refused to let Kare learn to Seer, saying they had to be sure what the dreams were first. His dad flung open his cabin and nodded at the bed. “Sit down– I need to get something.”

  He got down on his knees and rummaged through the contents of an under-floor storage compartment. A few moments later he lifted out a small wooden casket. He handed it to Kare, who ran his hands over the carvings on each side. They were just deep enough for him to track by sliding his fingertips into the runs, and felt like writing. “What is it?”

  “It’s for you. Open it.”

  Kare moved the little catch– it fitted his fingers perfectly– and the box sprung open to reveal a prism lying against a dark velvet interior. He lifted the prism, holding it by its silver chain so it twisted and caught the light. “Is it…?” he croaked.

  His dad nodded. “It’s a Seer’s prism. It was given to me, many years ago, by an old Seer.” He had an odd smile on his face. “He was a Roamer, he said.”

  “Can I use it?”

  “Yes, I’ll show you.” His dad reached for the prism, his eyes focused on it, becoming soft and distracted.

  “Are you okay?” asked Kare.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Tired.” His dad squinted like his eyes were sore, and reached up to a hook in the ceiling. He clipped the silver chain to it, and the prism cast lights all around the cabin. Kare bit his lip. This was it, he was going to step into the future and see what lay ahead for him. He couldn’t wait to tell Karia. He took a breath, and it was jerky. The cabin shimmered at the edge of his vision, as if it was fading, but when his dad sat on the bed beside him, making it rock, things came back to how they had always been.

  “Okay. First, don’t keep the prism up all the time. That’s what the Empress did to me, and it leads to the Seer becoming trapped in the future.”

  “Right.” The lights danced, and the room faded again. In the distance, Kare could hear soft singing.

  “When you’re in the vision, keep focused on me. I don’t want you under too long the first time. When I call you, you need to come out.”

  Kare nodded. His father’s voice was coming from far away, and the cabin had almost gone, replaced by somewhere that overlaid it, so that neither was quite real.

  “Okay, look at the prism, not the lights. Focus, and you should find yourself moving.”

  The prism twisted before Kare. The cabin grew warmer, the sound of singing louder. He was standing on soft carpet, the pile warm under his feet.

  “Where are you?”

  What was the voice? He frowned, straining to remember. His dad. He had to remember to listen to his dad….

  “I’m in a house. It’s very tidy.” It was, much more so than the ship ever was.

  “Are you yourself?”

  Kare looked down. How did he know? It felt like he was too tall and the floor was too far away. “I don’t know.”

  “Describe what you see to me. Take your time.”

  Kare walked forward, following the singing. He was in some sort of living pod, all white walls and metal. A few holos sat on a shelf and he stopped to look at them. In one, there were two boys. The first looked like him, but with light hair. The other was a giant of a lad, a shock of red hair making him appear angry. Kare looked closer; the first boy was him, older and blond but definitely him.

  “I think I’m me; there’s a holo.”

  He frowned, looking at the other holos. There were none of Karia or his dad. His stomach jumped, a sick rush of nerves. The singing stopped and a moment later a woman walked into the room. She smiled. “Kare, I thought you were out.”

  He went to reply but someone called his name, someone he should be able to place, but couldn’t. The voice was faint, as if it came from far away.

  “Kare!” It was his father. But where was the ship?

  “Think about how the cabin feels.” The voice was terse, worried. “Concentrate.”

  He closed his eyes, trying to focus, but when he opened them and the cabin appeared it was hazy, so that it was hard to tell where he stood. A rush of nausea hit him as the air grew colder. The quiet hum of the ship’s generators surrounded him, their gentle purring familiar. He blinked and saw his father crouched in front of him, his face worried.

  “You okay?” asked his dad.

  Kare nodded. He thought so. “I feel a bit sick.”

  “That’ll pass.” His dad pu
t his hand on his shoulder, his strong hands massaging the muscles, as if checking Kare was real. “You were away too long; you need to try to come back quicker.” He sat on the bed. “Where were you?”

  “I dunno. A house. There was a woman.”

  “What did she look like?” His father’s voice was too eager, sharp and questioning.

  “Red hair. Blue eyes– really blue. About your age, maybe.”

  “Gods.” His father had paled, a distant look in his eyes.

  “I only saw her for a minute,” said Kare. Was something wrong with what he’d seen? “But she used my name, so it was definitely me.”

  “You did good.” His father seemed to have composed himself a little. He held up his hand, displaying the signet ring he always wore. “We’ll get you a ring so you can tell when it’s you.”

  He stood and reached for the prism. Kare lay on the bed and curled up, all shivery and headachy and tired. His father put one hand on the clip, holding the prism steady with the other. A flash of light reflected in his eyes, and his face changed. He dropped his hand. His throat moved as he swallowed; he looked at Kare with eyes that were dark and hard to read.

  “What’s wrong?” Kare sat up, ignoring the headache that flared. Everything in him screamed that something wasn’t right, something hard to read even with his Empath skills.

  “I’ll show you how to go in and out of a vision with a bit more control.” Dad’s words were too slow, confused.

  “You’re not supposed to have visions.” His dad dined out on stories about how he’d Seered so much, finding the way to escape the palace, that he could never Seer again. “You said.”

  “It’ll be okay if it’s just once, just to show you.”

  “Daddy, don’t…” His dad sat on the bed, and his breathing became slow and relaxed. His eyes glazed over. Kare put a hand on his arm; it was raised in goosebumps all along.

  “Daddy?” His dad shivered and pulled his arm away. “Dad?” Kare’s voice quavered. Something was wrong, something he didn't understand. Fear gripped him, made him shiver. His dad moaned, and rocked back and forth. “Daddy! Come back.”

  There was a crash as his dad fell to the floor, back arched. He screamed, a long scream that echoed through the cabin.

  “Daddy!”

  The door banged open and Karia burst in. “What’s happening?”

  “He went into a vision." Kare dropped to his knees.

  Karia knelt on the other side and put her hand on their dad’s arm. She looked as shocked as he felt. “He’s freezing.” She smoothed his hair back. “Dad? Can you talk to me?”

  Their father’s eyes rolled back. His shoulders heaved with gasped breaths. “It hurts!” Even his voice didn’t sound right: blurred and mumbled. “They’re coming back. I have to get out.”

  He was right; they needed to bring him back to the cabin. Now. It was too frightening to see this.

  “Dad!” shouted Kare. There was no response. Maybe he’d come back for his name. “Ealyn Varnon, come back!”

  His dad’s eyes opened, staring at the ceiling. It had worked; everything was going to be okay. Kare started to shake in relief.

  Their dad jerked once, twice, and then screamed, a long, pure scream of pain.

  “Daddy!” shrieked Karia. She grabbed Kare’s arm. “What do we do?”

  He had no idea. Another scream ripped the air. “I don’t know!”

  Her face caught the prism’s light, and the cabin wavered in front of Kare, the living pod from earlier overlaying it. He got to his feet, pushing the threatened vision away. “The prism. We need to take it down.”

  He tried to reach, but fell well short. His father screamed, worse this time, like it was being ripped from his soul. Karia started to cry, pleading with Dad to come back. Kare felt like doing the same, but there was no time; he had to get the prism. He jumped, missed. It was too high. He focused on the chain, letting the power flow from him in a steady line, until it snapped and the prism fell to the floor with a thunk.

  The lights stopped flashing. His dad’s screams faded. The silence left was louder than his shrieks, Kare was sure of it.

  “Daddy?” asked Karia, her voice trembling. “We’re here, can you come back?”

  Slowly, their father’s eyes opened and he sat up, shaking.

  “What happened?” asked Kare. He sank to the floor, his legs too weak to hold him, so the three of them were in a line.

  “I was…” Their father went pale. He looked between them, and shook his head.

  “It was just a bad vision; they happen sometimes.” He pushed himself up to the edge of the bed and put his head in his hands. “Go and play. I need a few minutes to myself.”

  Karia exchanged a glance with Kare. “We’ll stay until you feel better,” she said.

  “Leave me!”

  Kare jumped; his father never shouted at them like that. Never.

  “Now!”

  Kare grabbed Karia’s hand and the two of them fled. The world had changed somehow, moved from the place they’d known, where their dad stood between them and danger, a constant presence who reassured. He needed it to change back; he didn’t know what to do if it didn’t.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Screams echoed through the ship. Kare sat in the co-pilot’s seat, his eyes burning with tiredness. He felt like someone had twisted him from the inside, so everything was in the wrong place. Beside him, in their father’s seat, Karia scanned the panel in front of her. The screams were joined by the vector alarm, and Karia looked over at him. “What do we do?”

  He didn’t know. Two days ago, waiting until their father got better had seemed like a good idea. Now, the control room was littered with recon packets, and two blankets, dragged from their beds, lay on the floor for the times when the screams had stopped long enough for them to sleep. They had to come up with something better than this. “Move the ship again?”

  Karia nodded and inputted new co-ordinates. The vector alarm died away. The screaming didn’t.

  “Did you try to get the prism off him?” Karia asked.

  “Yeah. He wouldn’t give me it.” His father's hands, clutching it to his chest, the frantic fear in his eyes, fear not of something on the ship, or even a memory but a vision replaying in his mind, over and over. It was all he could do not to give in to his terror and nestle in the seat, shaking. Only knowing that Karia was scared, and needed him to be as brave as he needed her to be, stopped him.

  “Did he say anything more?”

  Kare shook his head. He couldn’t tell her; it was bad enough that he knew.

  She glared at him, sensing the lie. “Tell me.”

  “It was nothing. Just more of the same,” he said, but she still glared at him. He’d have to tell her sometime; they could never keep secrets. “He told me he was sorry, that if he’d known our future, he’d never have taken us…”

  His words hung in the air. Karia stared at him. “Our future?”

  Their future. Those screams, the list of injuries, the flinched response when either of them touched him. The shock of the realisation still hadn’t sunk in, even though he’d thought of nothing else since. Slowly he nodded. “Yes.”

  He picked up one of the blankets and climbed into the pilot’s seat, so they were curled up together. It felt better, like they were a little safer. He watched out the window, trying to think of any solution. He was supposed to be smart, but he wasn't. He was just like any kid, helpless, needing his parent.

  The last volley of screams died away, and it felt like he could think properly for the first time in hours. They had to get help.

  "Where are we?" he asked.

  "Near Ferran." She touched the control panel, bringing up the details. "About four AU out."

  The Ferran system was the closest to Holbec. He sat up. "The Banned. Their base....?"

  “We could go back to the base,” said Karia at the same time. “We can’t stay out here.”

&nb
sp; He nodded; as ever, they were in tandem, their thoughts mirroring each other. And they were right, there was nothing else for it.

  “Can you fly the ship?” he asked. So far, she had, but they were in deep space– even he could manage the plot changes needed. It might be different when there was something to hit. “Through a system, I mean?”

  “Yeah.” She didn’t sound sure. No wonder; seven-year-olds shouldn’t fly ships. He bet even Roamer kids didn’t. He put his arm around her and pulled her against him. Maybe other kids just weren’t desperate enough.

  “I could try.” He knew what the controls did, after all. In theory, anyway. But the star drive was beyond him - Dad had never let either of them use it, not yet confident of their plotting skills. Without it, the base would be impossibly far away, across the gulf of space between the two systems.

  Tears threatened, from tiredness and frustration, from being no use and not being able to think of a way out of this, but he blinked them away. He couldn’t just sit in a panic. A moment later he sat up. “The beacon.”

  “What?”

  “The beacon. Darwin made Dad take it, remember, in case the base ever moved?”

  Her eyes widened. “Do you know where it is?”

  He looked around the control room. Where would his father have stowed it? He pushed back the blanket and got onto his knees, and started to pull open the storage hatches on the floor. Some tools, no beacon. He tried the next, and it was empty. Another, and still nothing. He jerked up the fourth and sitting in it was a plain black box, just about big enough to fill his hand.

  “Got it!”

  It was heavier than he’d expected, but he managed to get it out and over to the control panel. Now what? He looked at Karia, but she shook her head; this was his department, how things worked.

  “Gotta link to the nav-computer,” he muttered. He crawled under the panel, looking at the various ports, and finally found one that linked to the external nav-console. He hooked the beacon up, his heart pounding. If he got this wrong, they could end up with no nav-computer and no beacon. Then they’d really be in trouble. He got up, looking at the control panel; the nav-screen was dead.