Starship Fall (Starship Seasons, #2)(20)
The story had Grainger meet the aliens, only to become hooked on the bone-smoking ritual, the need to see the future. The film portrayed intrigue between the human and inimical elements of the Ashentay – and even a brief interlude of romantic interest with a native girl, which I assumed was the director’s invention. Another fabrication, I guessed – at least, Carlotta had never alluded to it – was that he stole from the Ashentay a small statue of immense religious significance to the aliens, which he intended to sell in order to subsidise his ongoing explorations. He also appropriated a cache of the alien drug, to satisfy his craving.
The second third of the film was set on Earth, and documented his love for Carlotta interspersed with psychotic episodes. Carlotta came over as nothing more than a love-sick beauty, there merely to provide token romantic and sexual interest. A more sophisticated aspect of the film was the portrayal of his drug-induced visions of the future, which left the viewer guessing which one might come to pass.
In the end, against Carlotta’s tearful protestations, Grainger sailed his ship back to Chalcedony, and in this version of events he rendezvoused with the religious elders in the sacred cavern. In a twist, it was revealed that he didn’t sell the religious statuette as he’d intended, but returned with it as a gift for the Ashentay. In the finale, he partook one final time in the smoking of the bones, and the film closes with alternative endings – two very different visions of the future. The first had him succumbing to an overdose of the alien drug, while in the second he was reunited with Carlotta.
All in all, Carlotta’s assessment of the film as a trite and sentimental was pretty much spot on, and more frustratingly from my point of view it told me nothing about Carlotta herself. Perhaps I was na?ve to have hoped it might, but the fact was that I wanted to know more about the woman who, despite myself, I was falling for... or perhaps I was doing no more than falling for the glamorous image of the woman she presented to the world.
I was staring at the end credits when a chime announced that I had a visitor. I wondered if it might be Carlotta, and my heart began a laboured pounding. I turned off the screen – not wanting her to see that I had been watching the film, for fear that she might accuse me of prying into her past… which was ridiculous, I know.
I hurried from the lounge, took the drop-shaft to the entrance and hit the control to open the sliding door.
It was not Carlotta standing on the threshold, I saw with disappointment, but Kee.
And only then did I recall what she’d said as we parted a few days ago, and my curiosity was rekindled.
“Kee, well… this is a surprise. Why don’t you come in?”
She smiled timidly and hurried past me. She wore only a sand-coloured shift, and was barefoot, her arms and legs covered with fine golden hair. We rode the elevator together, but she didn’t meet my gaze.
For all that I’d known Kee for five years, and come to like her a lot, she always struck me as being intimidated by my presence; her body language and mannerisms were reserved, shy... though I know I should not ascribe human attributes to an alien people.
We entered the lounge and she sat on her favourite seat by the viewscreen which overlooked the bay. She’d made the seat her own on her many visits with Hawk, Matt and Maddie, and would stare out at the view for ages on end while we drank and chatted away.
“Can I get you something to drink, Kee?”
“A sava juice would be nice, thank you, David.”
I fixed two cold juices and sat opposite Kee. “It’s nice to see you,” I said, somewhat uneasily. “You gave us a bit of a fright the other day, I can tell you.”
Her large-eyed, thin-lipped alien face turned my way, and I wondered what was going on behind those piercingly azure eyes.
I cleared my throat. “You said you needed to see me about something.” I took a sip of juice.
She inclined her head. She employed human gestures tentatively, uncertainly, much as a stranger to the English language might use unfamiliar words.
She said, “The other day I saw the future. Or rather I saw what might be the future, or rather possible futures. Who knows which future might happen in this reality?”
She fell silent.
“And?” I prompted.
“And the difficulty is in knowing which future might happen. Our elders have a theory, perhaps you have heard of this theory? It is that all the futures we see when we smoke the bones will come to happen, in many different realities. Our elders say that we can make the future we want in our reality, through guiding events to the desired outcome, and by being virtuous and good.”
I smiled. “Our scientists have a theory that there are a multiplicity of differing words, an infinity of realities,” I told her.
She lifted a hand in an odd gesture, much as a puppet might perform the movement. “I saw three futures, David. Two were vague, while one was more… vivid. According to our elders, the more vivid the vision, the more likely it is to happen in our reality.”
“That makes sense,” I murmured. I hesitated, then said, “And what were these visions?” I stopped myself, and made a performance of hitting my forehead with the palm of my hand. “Sorry. I forgot. You can’t talk about them, can you?”
She smiled at my play-acting, appreciating the humour. “What I said the other day, about not being able to talk about them... I said that because Hawk was there.”