Starship Summer (Starship Seasons, #1)(37)

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.