Starship Summer (13 page)

He paused again, and I wondered where his narrative was leading. “What happened?” I asked.

“The High Priest and Marrissa were pitched into the ocean. Before they were swept away, I dived in and managed to drag her back to the wreckage of the raft. I went in again but the priest was lost, his body never discovered…

“I was shunned by the natives, for saving Marrissa instead of the priest. They banished me from the island. I had allowed a servant of one of their gods to die in preference to a mere peasant—a crime almost as heinous as killing him intentionally—and in my absence a trial was held. But what hurt more than my banishment was the fact that Marrissa hated me for saving her life, and would gladly have died in place of the holy man. Like I said, she was alien…”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

He shrugged. “The Terran officials on Charybdis feared for my safety and managed to smuggle me off the planet. That was around twelve years ago.”

“And now Marrissa’s found you,” I said. “Perhaps, I don’t know… perhaps she can find it in her heart to forgive you.”

He smiled. “I’ll find that out tomorrow, David, won’t I?”

Not long after that I left Matt sitting on the veranda, staring out across the bay, and made my way home.

I considered a beer at the Jackeral, but I was tired after the long drive to MacIntyre and back, and decided to take a nap. In the event I was glad that I did so.

That afternoon, in the darkened room I used as my bedroom, I had the dream that changed my life, that explained nothing at the time but set in motion the chain of events that in due course explained everything.

TWELVE

I fell asleep instantly and was soon visited by the alien again. As on the last occasion, I was convinced I was awake: the clarity of the vision was not at all dream-like.

The alien hovered over me, peering down. I stared up at its thin, axe-blade face, curious but not in the least apprehensive. The being—or whatever it was—emanated a sense of calm and goodwill.

It told me, again not verbally, but by some kind of telepathic process, that I had been chosen by the Yall. What they wanted me to do would change things for ever, the alien claimed, and in the process transform my life. I would need the help of my friends—Matt and Maddie and Hawk—and together we would bring about a new Golden Age for humankind.

And then it told me what I had to do.

It filled my head with information and I absorbed it all in wonder. It told me everything but the reason for what it had asked me to do.

That, it said, would become evident in time.

“But the Yall,” I recall saying, “why can’t they…?”

The Yall no longer inhabited this galaxy, I was told. They had done their work here, left behind them their gift to other emerging sentient races, and left for the next galaxy.

“Their gift?” I echoed. “You mean, the Golden Column?” My alien visitor assented.

“But… what is it? What does it mean?”

“That is a secret only a race advanced enough can find out.”

“And we—humans—have reached that stage?”

Affirmation filled my head.

I wanted to ask more—determine precisely what would happen when my friends and I carried out the alien’s bidding—but the apparition faded, and I slipped further into a deep, dreamless sleep.

I came awake suddenly, disoriented. I recalled the dream—the vision that had all the fidelity of a waking encounter—and what the alien had requested.

I stumbled from bed. I had fallen asleep in the afternoon, but it was dark now. How long had I slept?

The bedside clock told me that it was seven in the morning. I had slept through the evening and the night. I stood up, realising that I felt refreshed, invigorated.

I showered quickly and ate an even quicker breakfast, my head full of what I should do next.

At eight—a suitable time, I judged, to rouse my friends—I called first Matt, then Hawk and Maddie.

Matt answered instantly. He stared from the com screen, peering at me. “David? What’s wrong?”

“I need to see you. I was visited last night. By the alien. And I know now what it wants.”

“David?”

“How soon can you get over here?”

“I’m on my way.”

I cut the connection and got though to Hawk and Maddie, with the same results.

I sat before the viewscreen, staring out at the sweep of the bay. The curving red sands and the beach-side chalets were quiet now, not a soul in sight. Storm clouds piled on the horizon over the sea, and a wind was blowing up. Soon the bay would be whipped into a frenzy, and winds would lash the foreshore for an hour or two. I hoped my friends would make it before the storm set in.

I sat and thought about what the alien had told me…

Matt arrived first, riding his wave-hopper around the far headland and along the beach rather than risk crossing the choppy waters. Seconds later a battered roadster drew up beneath the nose of the starship, and Hawk climbed out and limped up the ramp and into the ship after Matt.

“In the lounge,” I called out, just as Maddie came into sight along the beach, a small doll-like figure, her home-made cape pestered by the rising wind.

Minutes later all three were sitting in the lounge, pouring coffee and looking at me expectantly.

“Well?” Matt said.

I stared at my friends and wondered where to begin.

“I had another dream,” I said, “only it wasn’t a dream. It happened. The alien came to me and explained what it wanted.” Matt sipped his coffee. The others watched me expectantly. I looked at Hawk.

“Do you think you can pilot the Mantis?” I asked.

He stared at me, puzzlement lending his experienced, battered face a sudden look of innocence. “Pilot the ship?” “Get it running, get it up and flying?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know… In principle, yes.”

“I know the codes,” I said. “I know the override commands that will start the engines. They were given to me by the creature.”

“Then… in that case it can be done. But not by me.”

I stared at him. “Hawk?” Disappointment flooded the word.

He looked pained. “David, I haven’t flown for thirty years. For that long I’ve tried to forget what happened…” He shook his head. “I couldn’t bring myself to even think about flying again.”

“Not even one last time?”

Hawk stared at me, wrestling with demons.

Matt leaned forward and said,“Why?” watching me closely.

I shook my head. “That I don’t know. The alien said it wanted us to fly the ship. It gave me the co-ordinates for the flight. All we need to do is get the ship running.”

Maddie said, “It wanted us to fly the ship, David?”

I nodded, dredging the dream for the alien’s explanation. “The ship needs more than the pilot to get it up and moving. Don’t ask me for the technical details. We’d be… plugged into the systems matrix, in some way powering the vessel. Our presence is vital for its operation.”

“And where would the ship be bound?” Matt asked. “And why?” Again I shook my head, spreading my hands in mute appeal. “I don’t know that. The alien told me that what we’d do would change things—it said that the Yall had given the galaxy a gift, and that we humans were now advanced enough to accept it.”

We stared at each other.

Maddie said, “I’m up for it. How can we refuse?”

Matt inclined his noble head. “I agree with Maddie. We’ve got to do it. Imagine not taking up the challenge, and looking back at our failure, and forever wondering…”

I looked across at Hawk. He was staring down at his big hands. He looked up, staring past me through the viewscreen.

The storm had started. They sky had darkened. Wind howled around the contours of the ship, whistled through aerials and antennae, and the rain came down in torrents.

“Hawk?” I said.

“I don’t know…”

I said, and I wasn’t proud of myself for what might be considered a blackmail tactic, “If we do it, Hawk, then the alien said it’d banish my nightmares. I know, there’s a greater thing we need to do it for, something we can’t even guess at as yet. But one of the results would be that I’d no longer be haunted by the nightmares of what happened.”

Maddie said in a small voice, “What did happen, David?”

I nodded, and gathered myself, my thoughts, the memory of that day, and I told them what I had not told anyone before.

“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.