Best of British Science Fiction 2016
Page 37
She hangs up. I curse my inability to self-censor. I distract myself by watching the top 100 gifs of all time. A leopard licks marmite. Its majestic head lifts, eyes and mouth widening in an expression of exhilaration or horror, it’s impossible to tell which. Am I a terrible person to be so entertained by a marmite-eating leopard in the final days of Earth?
Half an hour later, we try again. I pace around the flat, phone pressed tight to my ear. Vader translates this as time for a walk and starts barking.
“What’s that noise?”
“That’s the dog.”
“Since when did you have a dog?”
“Since yesterday. His name’s Vader.”
“Are you serious?”
“I didn’t name him.”
“Well, that’s ridiculous.”
I feel immediately defensive on Vader’s part.
“He likes it.”
“How would you know?”
“Kat, are we going to have a conversation here? Are you okay? I mean, what are you doing, who are you with, where are you?”
“I’m with Liam.”
“Liam, is that your –?”
“My partner, yes. We live together.”
Oliver never mentioned that. The bastard.
“Actually, we got married.”
“So did Michelle, last week – you remember Michelle?”
“Of course I do.”
“I bet there’s been a rush on registrars.”
“This was last year, Mum.”
“Last year. Last year.”
“Mum –”
“Jesus, Kat. You got married? You’re nineteen!”
“And I’m not going to make the mistakes you made –”
A chasm of silence opens up. Of course she won’t make the same mistakes. She can’t. I feel the two years between us then, clear and cold. I feel the rift that stretches beyond the incident, further and further back. It’s no good, I think. It’s too late.
But when Kat finally speaks her voice is small and scared, and she breaks my heart all over again.
“Mum? It’s going to work, isn’t it? The Basher?”
“Of course it is,” I say firmly. “Professor Cox says so.”
“I don’t want to die, Mum.”
“Kat, no –” The memory tumbles into my head, Kat climbing into my bed after a nightmare, the monsters still present in her frantic beating heart. Clutching her to me, a wrench of that terrible, searing love that feels more akin to fury, at the idea that anyone or anything might hurt my little girl. All these years and everything that’s passed between us and that memory is undiminished. There is nothing tender about motherhood; it’s open warfare on the heart. And today, I and every other mother on the planet have failed to protect our little girls.
“Dad’s a mess,” she says. “He came over and just – burst into tears. I’ve never seen him like that.”
“He’s scared too, love. He doesn’t want to lose you, is all.”
Since when have I defended Oliver?
“Everything’s so awful.”
“I’ll drive down to London,” I say. “I’ll leave right now.”
“You won’t make it. There’s no petrol. The roads are chaos.”
“I’ll find a way.”
“I don’t want you to.” Her voice trembles. “Don’t you see? If you come – it’s like there’s no hope left.”
There’s a long pause.
“Okay. But you have to keep in touch. Promise me, Kat.”
“Okay. I promise.”
I know she’ll keep her promise. That’s who she is.
Day Two
I watch all of the Star Wars films back to back. Not the prequels, obviously. Vader barks happily, ecstatic to see his namesake up-close and remastered. Whilst Luke Skywalker blows up the death star, Kat and I message back and forth.
Sometimes, the words are easier on a screen.
After you were born, I was depressed for months. I didn’t understand what it was then, people didn’t talk about post-natal. I thought something inside me had gone wrong. I thought I couldn’t be a proper mother…
After you left the nightmares wouldn’t stop. I didn’t want to tell Dad. It would have upset him or he wouldn’t have understood. I was so scared without you there…
What I said that day, it didn’t come out right. I’ve never regretted having you, Kat. What I regret is you never had the family you should have. You never had a family like mine. I wanted that for you so badly.
It was revenge, me getting married. Not that I don’t love Liam, I do love him and I always will. But I knew one day you’d find out and I knew it would hurt you. It was stupid.
Not if you love him.
On the day the only person I wanted there was you.
It doesn’t matter now. None of it matters.
I hug Vader to me. His fur is so warm against my chest, his canine heart beats twice as fast as another human being. The adoration in his eyes as he gazes up is almost unbearable.
Towards the end of the day, the signal is failing and the texts squeeze out like the final dregs of a toothpaste tube. The networks will be down by morning. I mix coffee and whisky. I don’t want to go to sleep. I don’t want to let go of my thread to Kat.
Day One
I look at the vodka and strip of Valium on my bedside table. I’ve got clean sheets, a hot water bottle, a soothing playlist lined up on the laptop. I had it all planned out, but that was before she called. Now the idea of being asleep is abhorrent, impossible. Anyway, I’ve got Vader to look after. I can’t let Vader die alone. I pull on a coat and boots over my pyjamas, grab the vodka and Vader’s treats.
The rooftop belongs to the top flat but they cleared out weeks ago. Probably lying on a beach in Barbados. That’s one way to go. Somebody’s already kicked open the door. I hear voices drifting down, hesitate for a moment, then head up the steps myself, Vader padding behind me, close as a shadow. Does Vader know? Animals have a sixth sense about death.
On the roof there’s a small group of people who I recognize as neighbours, although we’ve never spoken. I don’t know their names, but we greet one another. Weirdly, it feels right to be with strangers. It’s how we come into the world after all - an unknown quantity.
We sit or stand companionably. The guy from the flat above mine is playing Oasis on a portable speaker. We get chatting, compare gig histories. He agrees that Noel has got more acceptable with age but Liam’s still a tosser. It seems absurd now to think I’ve lived alongside these people for years, but we’ve never spoken until today. So much mistrust for our fellow human beings. Why didn’t we introduce ourselves, make more connections? And even if we survive as a species, can we really do any better, or will it be the same old carousel of shit?
Around now, NASA will be launching the Basher. The sky is very light, very bright, but it might be the pollution, or the residues from thousands of fireworks, or the glow from fires breaking out all over Manchester. The sirens have finally stopped, but even now there are people out there, singing, shouting, fighting. I allow myself to hope. Maybe the asteroid will be destroyed. Maybe we’ll all get a second chance, even if we don’t deserve it. I text Kat. I love you. Message failed. I try WhatsApp. She doesn’t reply, but everyone’s doing the same thing and the networks must be jammed.
Vader pushes his nose into the palm of my hand. I feed him treats from the rescue centre’s collection.
“I should have got Kat a dog,” I tell Vader, crouching down and hugging his shoulders. All at once the fear hits me, vast and impregnable. “I should have –”
My phone vibrates.
love you too mum
I look up. Fierce patches of orange smear the sky. It’s beginning. In this moment, I don’t care if it’s the end. I’ve got my girl back.
Editor’s Acknowledgements
Please allow me to also heap praise on the several editors and publishers who wrote to me to offer their lists. Thanks especially to Unsung Stories, S
horeline of Infinity and the Glasgow SF Writers Circle who brought numerous little gems to my attention. Thank you for helping me spread the word and for encouraging submissions from modest authors who seemingly didn’t really know they were good enough to be considered ‘best’. A huge thank you to Ian Whates for asking me to do this Big Thing, and for the invaluable assistance given to me by my readers Tom Jordan, Pádraig Ó Méalóid, and Mark West. Finally I’d like to thank my husband Neil Bond, for keeping up the supply of tea while I was working on this project. Your contribution was invaluable.
Donna Scott
NewCon Press Novellas, Set 1
Cover art by Chris Moore
Alastair Reynolds – The Iron Tactician
A brand new stand-alone adventure featuring the author’s long-running character Merlin. The derelict hulk of an old swallowship found drifting in space draws Merlin into a situation that proves far more complex than he ever anticipated.
Released December 2016
Simon Morden – At the Speed of Light
A tense drama set in the depths of space; the intelligence guiding a human-built ship discovers he may not be alone, forcing him to contend with decisions he was never designed to face.
Released January 2017
Anne Charnock – The Enclave
A new tale set in the same milieu as the author’s debut novel A Calculated Life. The Enclave: bastion of the free in a corporate, simulant-enhanced world…shortlisted for the 2013 Philip K. Dick Award.
Released February 2017
Neil Williamson – The Memoirist
In a future shaped by omnipresent surveillance, why are so many powerful people determined to wipe the last gig by a faded rock star from the annals of history? What are they afraid of?
Released March 2017
THE ION RAIDER
The Dark Angels (Volume 2)
Ian Whates
Cover art by Jim Burns
The much-anticipated follow-up to the Amazon best seller Pelquin’s Comet.
Leesa is determined to find out who is quietly assassinating her old crewmates, the Dark Angels, and stop them before it’s her turn to die.
First Solar Bank have sent Drake on his most dangerous mission yet, to the isolationist world of Enduril, where nothing is as it seems.
Jen just wanted to be left in peace on her farm, until somebody blew the farm up. She escaped, a fact those responsible will come to regret.
“A good, unashamed, rip-roaring piece of space opera that hits the spot.” – Financial Times
“He’s a natural story-teller and works his material with verve, obvious enjoyment, and an effortlessly breezy prose style.” – The Guardian
“Pelquin’s Comet is classic space opera at its finest, a satisfying and enjoyable novel in its own right and an intriguing introduction to a story universe I want to visit again. Thoroughly recommended.” – SFCrowsnest
“Whates does a good job playing out the lines of suspense while steadily revealing significant plot points, keeping things character-focused… It’s a fast, fun read.” – Speculation
“You won’t go far wrong with this book... you never know, it could be the beginning of something wonderful.” – Booklore
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Elasticity: The Best of Elastic Press
Edited by Andrew Hook
Cover art by Alexi K
Elastic Press began publishing collections and anthologies in 2002 and closed down in 2009. By the time their 2008 collection The Turing Test by Chris Beckett won the prestigious Edge Hill Prize for Literature (beating Booker Prize and Whitbread shortlisted authors to do so), Elastic had already won two British Fantasy Awards for Best Small Press, while their titles had picked up three further British Fantasy Awards and one East Anglian Book Award.
Established with the aim of publishing mixed genre short story collections by relatively unknown writers, the Press gave early opportunities to the likes of Chris Beckett, Neil Williamson, Gary Couzens, Gareth L. Powell, Allen Ashley, and Steven Savile, while their anthologies attracted submissions from authors such as Justina Robson and Nina Allan.
In 2009, Elastic Press announced they were closing down. In 2017, fifteen years after Elastic’s first title appeared, NewCon Press are proud to present Elasticity: The Best of Elastic Press, featuring a selection of exceptional stories drawn from across Elastic’s list, as chosen by the imprint’s founder and proprietor Andrew Hook.
Available as paperback, and a limited edition hardback signed by the editor.
NEWCON PRESS
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from the European Science Fiction Society.
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Table of Contents
2016: An Introduction
Arrested Development
Ten Love Songs to Change the World
Beyond the Heliopause
The Seventh Gamer
Dream-Hunter
Shooting the Messenger
The Lightship
Ana
Liberty Bird
Joined
Heinrich Himmler in the Barcelona Hallucination Cell
Taking Flight
People, Places and Things
Staunch
Between Nine and Eleven
Ajdenia
To Catch a Comet
How to Grow Silence from Seed
The Apologists
Montpellier
Foreign Bodies
The Ten Second War
Possible Side Effects
Front Row Seat to the End of the World
Editor’s Acknowledgements