by S. Hansen
‘Trim klarp, parima nad vam vaas trim Dantil. Parima pulitak stil trim stunipari trim kraa pisma tut trim kraa vanraimtaum, kir uup danivr ara vanraimta sku am tu krurptavam tup stanilara.’ [You see, they don’t need you Dantil. They cling to you because you are good and you are honourable, but a life of honour will be an unfulfilling one child heart.] She had often referred to him as “child heart” and it always pleased Dantil to be considered such. His eyes lit up and he caressed her cheek softly before leaving towards the city port.
Meanwhile Mazar had been sat calmly drinking a badly brewed cup of tea in the dark corner of The Drunken Lord. She was aware of the fact she was in her past and made no attempt to change any of her actions. Dantil’s abrupt entrance had this time had far greater meaning to her than it had previously because before he was probably a mentally unstable homeless man but this time he was a quick thinking and reliable companion. She smiled internally and awaited her return to the present day. The world rocked around each of them leaving Polly feeling a little nauseated by the movements that lead to each of them experiencing childhood once again. Polly curled up underneath the blankets of her childhood bed with a dim torch lighting one of her many mythological books. She read with zeal the story of Hel, the half dead queen of the Norse underworld. Her mother gently tapped on the door and called through in a husky voice that made Polly feel both homesick and comforted.
‘I wish you wouldn’t hide under the covers to read just look at that beautiful sky out there.’ Concurrently a small dark haired girl a year younger than Polly hid herself under a table draped in a black cloth. Her eyes were red and sore and they occasionally peered out from the table cloth to observe the busy surroundings. Her mother sat in a comfortable chair wailing and drinking heavily in a manner that encouraged men and women to gather around and comfort her. Some were less concerned by the grieving woman and stuck close by the tables laden with food. When a friendly looking man caught her peering out she let the cloth slip back into place and buried her head in her knees as she tried to block out the world by covering her ears with her hands. The table cloth lifted and the observant man crawled underneath. For some time, he simply sat beside her with his feet poking out from under the table cloth. Eventually his familiar voice came and she knew it was her father’s best friend.
‘You are the smartest one here Bat-Ami. I wish I had thought to hide myself.’ She looked at him and rubbed her eyes.
‘He used to talk often of you. He always had a fantastic story of your adventures together and it made me wish I had a daughter like you.’ A single tear forced its way out of her sore eyes and rolled down her face before hitting the cracked floor. She watched it disappear into the unknown and she imagined how the tear might change the ground beneath the broken tile but even in her imagination it changed nothing. She thought about the effect her mother’s tears had on the people around her and she learned a cold and life weary lesson that most girls at the age of eight do not. Emotions are there to manipulate people; they do not manipulate life. At the same moment in time an eleven-year-old Stark sat in a history classroom in which he had decided that the teacher probably had something to say about the Tudors but that he didn’t much care. He sat gazing out of the window where a dying tree served as a take off point for numerous birds and Stark watched them take flight with the same boyish glee that Polly could still find in the present day. The elegant but simple movements of the birds fascinated him but he had to give them up when the miserable droning voice of a grey haired man who smelled of damp dog shouted across the room as if to prove a point to Stark.
‘ADAM STARK!! Who did Queen Elizabeth the first marry?’ He looked in confusion at the sour face examining him because he knew it was a trick question, everyone knew it was a trick question. It seemed to Stark that England had no history other than the Tudors. He had been forced to study them for the past four consecutive years with each teacher thinking they were the first to impart the glory and brutality of the Tudor reign on the willing minds of children.
‘Her country.’ A squeaky voice stumbled out of his mouth before the droning voice continued the lesson. Three-year-old Dantil meanwhile was having far more fun because he had recently been introduced to coloured bark pastes. Many of them tasted far worse than the enticing smell led him to believe but none the less they were a great deal of fun to smear over himself. A golden haired Dantan watched over several young Dantan children and it seemed that it brought her great joy to see the young ones so occupied with their games. Dantil patted and swiped the paste across his body and when he was pleased with the variety of colours he began to run across the room.
‘Marrrrrrr!’ A smile inducing high pitched shout of joy roared from Dantil as his feet left the ground and he slid on his belly across a white sheet laid on the floor. His smear print could be described as art but most likely would not be. It was vibrant and appealing to him and he proudly stood over it examining every detail. Polly and Dantil returned to their present lives with a tinge of disappointment while Stark and Mazar did so in relief. There was a short reprieve before they began to be thrust in all directions across the tapestry of moments that was and could be their lives. It was however long enough for an important conversation that Mazar had been patiently waiting to initiate.
‘Stark push it towards the star!’
‘Oooh good idea.’ He slowly edged around the object, hindered by the lack of gravity, before pushing it away with his feet and hoping as he watched it drift toward the ball of burning gases that currently still lay a safe distance from The Asteria. As though the metal devil knew it was nearing the end of its life it seemed to desperately search for a future in which it existed. It hurled possible future after possible future at the crew.
Stark clonked against the hull of The Asteria and began to cling on before the ripples struck but when they did he smiled with excitement and anticipation. He carefully shimmied along the side of the ship toward the door while a multitude of lives passed through The Asteria like a kaleidoscopic beam. No two crew members saw the same thing and each experienced a mixture of their own lives and the lives of their space faring companions. Some images not only lasted longer than others but also had a longer lasting effect on the viewer. A short scene played out in which the tall doors burst open onto the grassy balcony over Drium’s capitol and the crowds below cheered as their new rulers appeared in splendour. Dantil stepped forward in his usual simple sandals, flowing white trousers and flickering crimson hair but his red tunic had so much more delicate detail than ever before, the fit was more tailored and the colour more vibrant. Gently resting on his head was a silver circle with a red Dantan inscription wrapped around it and when he raised his hand in acknowledgement of his position he had a single band of silver wrapped around his ring finger. In his other hand, he reassuringly gripped Polly whose ring finger too had a simple silver ring as decoration and she wore a long crimson gown with the same intricate detailing as Dantil’s tunic. Her blonde hair flowed gently over her shoulders and a crown matching Dantil’s perched on top of her head. The noise of the excited Dantans below was extraordinary. Dantil smiled proudly at them but Polly fixed her eyes on Dantil and her smile beamed as she stood comforted by his presence.
Meanwhile Stark could be seen sitting back on Earth in a small café. He seemed cold or nervous as his leg kept shaking and he gripped his warm cup tightly. Across from him sat a hesitant woman who sipped her coffee cautiously while avoiding eye contact with Stark. She placed the cup down carefully, took a breath of courage and looked at Stark’s expectant eyes.
‘I miss you.’ Initially Stark smiled with sheer joy but as he thought about those simple words he seemed to grow more concerned.
‘Anna, please don’t say that. I can’t keep letting you toy with my heart.’ She was surprisingly understanding and she gently nodded her head.
‘I know I said I couldn’t make it work if you were an agent. But it’s been three and a half years since our divorce. I still haven’t met
anyone I could love the way I love you.’ She paused realising she had confessed she still loved him but knew she would have to finish speaking quickly before Stark could interrupt her chain of thought. ‘I’m ready to be the wife of an agent Adam.’ Stark laughed to himself before reaching for her hand.
‘You’re too late.’ She looked pained and tears began to fill her in her eyes. When Stark saw this he suddenly moved out of his seat and crouched in front of her to wipe away the tears.
‘Oh no no. Don’t cry. I meant I’m not an agent anymore, I quit.’ She laughed through her tears and gripped his hands.
‘You did?’
‘It’s a long story but I realised being an agent just left me lonely and with nothing to show for it. I want to live life Anna; I want to live life with you if you’ll have me.’
Concurrently a blurry image of Mazar lying in a clinical looking room appeared. She lay back with a thin blanket across her legs but she looked over heated and tired, her stomach bulged and she gripped it as though it were a source of great pain. She looked to her side in anger and glared at a man with a thick beard
‘You did this to me! I’m going to kill you!’ He gripped her hand and spoke calmly but the voice was audibly blurry and it sounded as though the voice were travelling through water.
‘Deep breaths.’ She crushed his hand and forced his face nearer her own.
‘You and I both know you don’t want to say stupid things like that to me.’
Another image showed the Asteria silently drifting through space while five figures floated outside the ship attached to it via the cables connected to the suits they wore to keep them alive. Suddenly the air lock door slammed shut cutting the cables in the process and The Asteria’s engines lit up ready to go.
‘Oh piss.’ A crackly voice echoed in the helmets of each of them as two of them desperately scrambled hopelessly in an attempt to direct themselves back to the ship.
At the same time Stark could be seen awkwardly shuffling onto a stage like platform in a noisy room. He was wearing and elegant blue evening gown that fitted him so poorly it seemed to be bursting at the seams. His hair had been smothered by a waxy looking hair sculpture and his face had not been shaved prior to a plastering of makeup, leaving the strong bristle to pierce through. The lights shone on him and he nervously laughed as he looked back toward the side of the stage he had appeared from. He blinked and squinted through the lights to look out across the room. In front of him was a hall filled with tables and each table was surrounded by seated patrons who were drinking, eating, talking, shouting and smoking. He looked at the faces as they began to notice him standing uncomfortably in the middle of the stage. There were some almost humans, some not at all humans and some that he wasn’t sure were even living. Above the noise of the hall he heard a muffled voice from the wings.
‘Do something you idiot.’ His feet began to shuffle from side to side as he tried to pluck up the courage to open his mouth. Music began to play that focused on wind instruments of a sort and Stark cleared his throat before quickly trying to find his highest register. His voice began to squeak and occasionally squawk as he attempted to belt out a performance fit for a drag show.
Somehow during the flashes of possibility Stark was able to return safely through the ships air lock and back to the bridge of the ship. He strode in looking rather pleased with himself holding the helmet under his arm. Leaving the star to finish the job The Asteria flashed its rear thrusters at the reality altering device before fleeing the constant battering of time.
Chapter Fourteen – Revealing Omissions
‘Well that was kind of anti-climactic.’ Stark said.
The crew sat in relief around the table allowing Mazar to easily assess her travelling companions’ expressions in order to determine what they may have seen. Stark gazed at the surface of the table with an unmoveable smile while Dantil sat comfortably next to Polly with his eyes closed. Polly looked at Stark and her face contorted as she considered how to break the silence but instead settled for watching Mazar and avoiding eye contact with her. Abruptly Dantil opened his eyes and began to speak as he turned his head to Stark.
‘Adam Stark, you said we were going to have a serious talk when we got back to The Asteria. We have been here for some time, has the seriousness of a conversation escaped me or are we yet to have this conversation?’ Both Polly and Stark smiled although for differing reasons.
‘Dantil…. Err you need a surname.’ He paused, trying to think of one but gave up as he was keen to continue. ‘You are quite right my friend, we need a very important chat, come right this way.’ He sprung to his feet and motioned for Dantil to join him.
‘Oh God what are you going to do now Adam?’
‘Just going to give him the birds and the bees talk, that’s all.’ He winked at Polly and ushered Dantil down the hall. Polly turned to Mazar and for the first time had some semblance of her friendly nature in the way she spoke to Mazar.
‘I find it hard to tell when he’s being serious or not sometimes, you’re an agent, you must be able to help.’
‘Don’t put me in the same social group as Stark.’ Polly laughed and Mazar looked disappointed that Polly had not been offended or quietened as she would normally have been.
‘I saw you, you know. In the past and the future.’ Mazar looked blankly at Polly who had left a pause for Mazar to respond but continued when she chose not to.
‘I think I see you differently now. I think maybe you aren’t as scary and intimidating as I thought.’
‘That’s an unfortunately poor assessment.’
☆★☆
In Dantil’s cabin Stark made himself comfortable on Dantil’s bed and lay gazing at the ceiling with a gleeful smile. Dantil sat with his legs crossed on the floor close by and listening to Stark attentively.
‘I’ll be perfectly honest Dantil. I have no idea why we need a serious chat because I can’t remember.’ Stark was not being perfectly honest, much the opposite in fact. He had not expected Dantil to request the conversation. Dantil looked disappointedly at the floor, it was becoming harder and harder for him to suppress the pain and nausea. The cold chill affecting his hands and feet seemed to spreading too. He could feel his stomach churning but he persevered in conversation with Stark.
‘Oh, perhaps it was not as important as you thought.’ Stark sat upright on the bed and swung his legs to one side so that he was facing Dantil.
‘What do you do if you like a girl on Drium Dantil?’
‘Like a girl?’
‘Yeah, you know… if you want to spend some time alone with a nice Dantan girl in your bedroom…’ Stark, perhaps for the first time, blushed over the topic of conversation. The blush reddened further when realisation crossed Dantil’s face.
‘Oh… Well I don’t do anything.’
‘Why not?’
‘I can’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘I have to marry Tanika.’
‘But surely you could have some fun before then?’
‘No that wouldn’t be right.’
‘Is it the same for all Dantans?’
‘Yes.’
‘Oh boy.’ Stark shook his head and lightly massaged his temples with one hand. After a short pause Stark spoke again, to himself as much as Dantil.
‘So you have no clue how any of it works… Huh…What goes through that funny head of yours?’
‘When?’
‘When you look at Polly I suppose.’ Dantil straightened up and completely froze. His eyes focused on a point straight ahead and his breathing became shallow. But it was no good, he could no longer fight back against the nausea. He lurched to one side and the contents off his stomach flew out against the wall. Stark looked both disgusted and entertained.
‘Well that was a unique reaction to the question. I’ll umm… leave you to that… mess.’
Meanwhile Polly had left the bridge in order to get some sleep in her room and it being next to Dantil’s she had heard th
e last question Stark had asked. She had become intrigued and tried desperately to hear his response but upon hearing Dantil’s state of health she forgot all about it and rushed to his aid. After leaving Dantil’s room Stark had slunk away, shuffled into one of the many tunnels throughout the ship and when he re-emerged it was with an almighty clang on the bridge. He had felt something touch his leg and had burst through the panelling in a panic but upon seeing Mazar he propped his head up with one hand and tried his best to look enticing as he lay on the floor.
‘See anything you like?’ She had looked up to determine the cause of the crash but when she discovered it was Stark she simply blinked slowly at him and returned to her examination of the holographic image she had spent a great deal of time creating. Stark disappointedly sprung to his feet and skipped over to Mazar before tripping on Dantil’s bag and falling across the cube. The image dissipated and the lights in the box flickered as Stark tried to regain his poise. Mazar scowled at Stark fiercely while she waited for the cube to stabilise the lights once more.