Inside Out

by Thorne Moore

  Selden grunted assent.

  She shivered. David the idiot. David whose mind, working in a different dimension, had produced this drawing. David who had butchered Tim, showered the gore off and come to join them, innocent as a baby. David the completely unknowable.

  ‘It’s all there,’ said Selden. ‘I’ve compared it with the readings the engineers took. There’s even more. See.’ He pointed to a wedge of minute hieroglyphics. ‘He’s got something here that the detectors didn’t pick up, but I can’t make out his notes.’

  ‘Too small,’ suggested Abigail. She tried to decipher the marks but they meant nothing. ‘Have you tried magnifying it?’

  Selden, in response, took it to a scanner and increased its magnification, revealing a plethora of detail that had been invisible before, a microcosm on paper, every wire, bolt, weld, pipe, panel, dent, crack and flake of paint. But the notes were still illegible. David’s realm possessed its own cipher.

  ‘It’s frightening,’ said Abigail.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t know. Because it’s not normal. He’s different. He can’t understand us and we can’t understand him. Stupid, isn’t it.’

  ‘Waste of time being afraid of the unknown. What we carry with us, that’s what we should be afraid of.’

  ‘Is that...’ Abigail hesitated. ‘Why are you going back?’

  Selden said nothing.

  ‘You made it through seven years. Didn’t you make a fortune?’

  ‘Yes.’ Selden clammed up, then added grudgingly ‘Nearly six million.’

  ‘But why then?’ This seemed as frightening, in its way, as David’s peculiarities. ‘I didn’t understand what it was about when I signed up. But you knew exactly what’s out there and you had a fortune, so why go back?’

  She was so appalled, he felt compelled to answer. ‘It’s the only place I’m fit for,’ he said gruffly, and turned back to study the screen.

  Abigail tried to let it drop – but she couldn’t. She took a deep breath. ‘What happened?’

  Selden seemed engrossed in comparing David’s artwork with the damage assessment, but he answered. ‘I went home. Things went wrong.’

  ‘Please. I want to know what this place will do to me.’

  Selden turned to look at her. ‘It will key you up to survive, ready for anything, always on the edge. You watch your back, day and night. A word, a sound, a light; you react instantly. Out there, someone creeps up behind you; you don’t stop and think about it, you lash out to kill. You learn it, absorb it into your system. It becomes a part of you, something you don’t think about anymore. Then one day you go home and it’s still a part of you and you can’t switch it off. And one day...’ He stopped, staring into space for a while, before continuing in a quiet empty tone, ‘One day someone creeps up behind you and you lash out to kill and it turns out to be your ten-year-old son.’

  ‘Oh God.’ The fathomless despair hit Abigail more forcibly than the words. She put her hand to her mouth and shut her eyes. ‘You killed him?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’m sorry. Did they – were you prosecuted?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘But you couldn’t help it.’

  ‘Oh they agreed it wasn’t murder. Only manslaughter. A short sentence.’ He laughed, if it could be called a laugh. ‘When they let me out, I signed on again for Triton.’

  ‘Your wife...’

  ‘Divorced. She has the money. Not much recompense.’ He stared into space, locked in a very private hell that Abigail had no wish to share. His misery was not a part of her. She didn’t want to know. She was immune to such sordid suffering. A princess without feelings.

  ‘I had an abortion,’ she said, taking them both by surprise. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that. It’s not relevant, is it? Not relevant to anything at all.’

  He didn’t argue. ‘Daddy arranged it?’

  ‘He took care of things.’

  ‘Not what you’d have chosen?’

  ‘No. Yes. I don’t know. Maybe. He just—’

  ‘Took care of things.’ Selden smiled wryly. ‘No one to take care of you on Triton. You’ll have to watch out for yourself. Even basic medical treatment is hard to come by. You don’t want to find yourself seeking an abortion out there.’

  ‘Oh, that’s not a problem. I – after the abortion I had myself sterilised.’

  Selden winced. ‘Daddy arrange that too?’

  ‘No!’ She couldn’t believe she was telling him all this, but now she’d started, she couldn’t stop. ‘He liked the idea of being a patriarch. A long line of descendants, all looking back to him. He was keen for me to do it properly. Give him nice acceptable grandchildren.’

  ‘That’s why you had yourself sterilised? To punish him?’

  Certainly not. I just didn’t want to go through all that grubby mess again. That’s what she wanted to say, but it wouldn’t come out. The lie wouldn’t be spoken. Instead, she found herself sobbing quietly.

  Selden squeezed her arm. ‘Great thing about Triton. Only ourselves to hurt out there.’ He walked over to the peg where his jacket was hanging and groped for cigarettes in the pocket. ‘Shall we get on with some serious repairs? See if we can get this ship back to one hundred percent.’

  Abigail wiped her nose and nodded. ‘What do I do?’

  Flight Control had subsided into a mesmerised stillness. Monitors must be watched, for fear of something happening, but nothing was happening. Smith, not satisfied with merely keeping watch, was engrossed in complicated calculations clear only to himself. Clytemnestra was content to watch her screen and bury herself in her own thoughts. Yasmin, vaguely on standby, had settled at the communications console and was reading an endless repetition of the same automatic signals and responses. But who could tell when something new might appear? It was a little like watching a hypnotist’s watch swinging, back and forth, back and forth...

  Tod’s gasp was almost inaudible, escaping involuntarily between clenched teeth, but its effect was like a gunshot in the silence. They all looked round.

  Tod, his eyes still fixed on his own controls, was unconsciously fingering his shoulder, a gleam of sweat on his brow.

  Yasmin stood up. ‘Is it bleeding?’

  Tod looked at his fingers. ‘No. Leave it.’

  ‘You should get Merrit to take a look at it again.’

  ‘I’m all right! It’s just the painkillers wearing off.’

  ‘So get some more. Come on, nothing’s happening. We can look after things here.’

  ‘I said leave it!’

  ‘Don’t you trust us?’ asked Smith.

  ‘Rule of the ship. One of us stays in Flight Control at all times.’ Tod winced as he shifted position.

  ‘Oh come on,’ said Yasmin. ‘The infirmary is, what, thirty metres away? Within shouting distance, so go and get that arm seen to and we’ll shout if anything happens.’

  Tod smiled. ‘Scream if Smith steps out of line.’

  ‘I’ll swat him,’ she promised.

  Merrit was recalibrating the diagnostics unit when Tod came in. He looked up nervously.

  ‘Do you know what to do with that thing?’ asked Tod.

  ‘I can set it. It tells me what treatment’s needed. Doesn’t help if we can’t give the treatment.’

  They both looked at Tucker, his breathing still laboured, his skin the colour of putty.

  ‘We’ve got ships coming this way. I wouldn’t pin much hope on the first, but the others will probably have medical facilities. If he holds out, he’ll get proper treatment. What price they’ll demand is another matter.’

  ‘Price?’ asked Merrit, alarmed.

  ‘We’ll negotiate,’ said Tod. ‘What about this?’ He touched his shoulder. ‘It’s throbbing.’

  ‘Is it?’ Merrit bit his lip. ‘I thought I’d cleaned it well enough, but I could check for infection. There may be some antibiotics that still work. I’ll get you some more painkillers, anyway.’

&n
bsp; Tod watched Merrit work, without comment. He took the pills when offered. ‘How are you coping in here? You need a rest.’

  Merrit hesitated. ‘I don’t think he should be left alone.’

  Tod looked again at Tucker, unconscious of their presence. ‘No. You can make up an extra bed. It won’t be for long.’

  ‘I...’ Merrit hesitated.

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘I’m starving!’

  Tod laughed. ‘Of course you are. A growing lad. I’ll get you something.’ He returned in a few moments with a dish of NDP food, a glass of mineral water and a plate of Smith’s latest experiment; fruit strudel. ‘Better than nothing.’

  ‘It’s great!’ said Merrit ravenously.

  Tod left him to enjoy the delights of a brown fibrous meat-like substance.

  There was a Zen-like calm in Flight Control. Clytemnestra was still glued to the scanner. Smith and Yasmin were leaning over the command console, exchanging occasional observations in low tones. Tod stood in silence for a few minutes, watching them with a finely balanced mixture of suspicion and pleasure, until Yasmin glanced round and straightened.

  ‘Better?’

  ‘Fine.’ Tod smiled as Smith looked up. Was there a suggestion of guilt? With Smith? Of course not. ‘What are you doing with my ship?’

  ‘Plotting your overthrow, of course.’

  ‘Just seeing how all the commands are co-ordinated,’ said Yasmin.

  Tod laughed. ‘Ready to mount a coup yet?’

  ‘Give me a couple more months,’ said Smith.

  ‘And meanwhile you are watching out for our more immediate concerns, like whether the Sally Rose has her grappling irons ready?’

  ‘Oh sure,’ said Smith easily. ‘I’ve got it all programmed. Don’t worry, we won’t be caught napping.’

  Yasmin smiled. ‘Would that reassure you enough to set you napping, Tod? You need some sleep, you know.’

  ‘I’m fine. The painkillers are working. I’m on top of the world.’

  ‘You shouldn’t be. Seriously. We can manage, and Smith won’t be ready to lead a serious mutiny for at least two months, so you can risk a couple of hours sleep.’

  Tod sank down firmly into the command seat. ‘Major Addo set the rules. I told you...’

  ‘You’ve already broken the rules, and nothing happened. Anyway, you wouldn’t be breaking them now. No need to leave Flight Control. Use the bed in there and we’ll call you at the first sign of anything untoward. You might not get another opportunity and we’re fine at doing nothing. When a situation starts, you and the Major are going to need your wits about you.’

  ‘Good God, woman, I’m not...’ Tod’s resistance crumbled. He laughed. ‘All right. But I’ll be in here, with the door open. If a pin drops, I’ll wake.’

  Silence returned. If Tod slept, he did so without snoring. The only sound was an occasional tuneless whistle from Smith as he checked readings.

  At last, having satisfactorily correlated signals on the Ultima with those showing on the command console, he looked up at Yasmin with an innocent smile.

  ‘She’s a piece of cake.’

  ‘Of course she is. She’s not doing anything.’

  ‘Suppose we try a few manoeuvres?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘The major’s programmed us to do an occasional shift, but it’s getting predictable and that’s got to be dangerous.’

  ‘Not as dangerous as letting you loose with her.’

  ‘Look.’ Smith sat back, ready to argue. ‘We’re sitting here waiting for Sally Rose, and we already know she’s got nothing to offer. A bit of manoeuvring might scare her off and leave the way clear for the second ship.’

  ‘The Pan ship.’

  ‘Precisely. With proper medical help. I’m only thinking of poor Tucker.’

  ‘Of course you are.’

  ‘No, he’s not,’ said Clytemnestra. ‘He’s thinking a Pan ship would be more useful to him.’

  Yasmin laughed. ‘Want to do a bit of negotiating of your own, Jo Jo?’

  He was on the point of denying it, then changed his mind. ‘Right. Okay. I don’t know much about Pan, but what I do know is that it’s Pascal’s major rival out here. If anyone’s going to get us out of this—’

  ‘Forgetting U11? A Pan station that helped Triton runaways. Pascal blew it apart and provoked a three-year war. That what you’re hoping for? They won’t do it again. Not that Benedict Darke won’t spark another war whenever he fancies it, but it won’t be over the likes of us. He’s not our fairy godfather.’

  Smith bit his lip. ‘Still worth a try? All right! Still worth showing Sally Rose we’re not a sitting duck though, surely. All it would take…’

  ‘You’re not going to do anything!’ warned Clytemnestra, lunging to grab his hand from one side, as Yasmin snatched from the other, but too late. His fingers had been at work while he’d been talking. One touch before they could stop him and, in an instant, the screens around them registered the slight shift.

  ‘You stupid idiot!’

  ‘Don’t fuss, ladies. Tell Tod I’m a naughty boy, if you like, but let’s see—’

  He stopped. He did see.

  So did Clytemnestra and Yasmin.

  ‘There!’ they shouted together, fixed on the scanner.

  ‘I’ve got it!’ Smith stared. ‘What the hell’s it doing there?’

  A bleep, approaching from far behind, was suddenly revealed, its former invisibility betrayed by the slight alteration of angle.

  ‘It wasn’t there before!’ declared Clytemnestra defensively.

  ‘We could have a blind spot on the scanner,’ said Smith. ‘But why wasn’t I picking anything up on the Ultima?’

  ‘Nothing?’ Yasmin moved instinctively to the weaponry console.

  Smith rechecked the Ultima. ‘She’s just not there. She must be. How are we – no, wait, stupid, of course. I’ve got her. I see how she’s done it. Well, I can beat that. Strip her bare, she’s…’ He stopped, looked up, met Yasmin’s eyes. ‘It’s the Tarquin.’

  Yasmin responded without thinking. Then she looked down at her fingers as the ship hissed and sighed around them.

  ‘What have you done?’ demanded Smith.

  ‘I think I fired.’

  ‘Great! I thought you’d voted against a full-scale war?’

  ‘You fired,’ said Tod, dishevelled from a rudely awakened sleep. ‘At what?’

  Smith and Yasmin looked at each other.

  ‘It’s the Tarquin,’ said Clytemnestra. ‘But she wasn’t hit. She’s turned and gone.’

  ‘What’s happening?’ asked Selden’s brusque voice, over the intercom. ‘We fired.’

  ‘Yes, we fired.’ Tod’s eyes were fixed on the scanner.

  The doors hissed open. ‘What happened?’ repeated Addo.

  ‘Tarquin,’ said Tod, between his teeth.

  Addo summed up the instrumentation quickly. ‘Seldon. How’s she holding up down there?’

  ‘Okay so far. Are we gearing up?’

  ‘No,’ said Addo. He laid a hand on Tod’s arm, confronting the challenge in his eyes. ‘This isn’t the time. We’re not fully functioning. First, we deal with Tucker. Then the ship. Then Triton. Then…’

  They waited, watching Tod’s internal war. His fist was clenched on the scanner controls. ‘Of course,’ he said at last. ‘First Tucker.’

  Breathing resumed.

  Addo was studying their course. ‘We’ve changed direction.’

  Clytemnestra and Yasmin looked at Smith.

  ‘I just gave her a wiggle. To surprise the Sally Rose.’

  ‘You turned her?’

  ‘I fell asleep,’ snapped Tod. ‘And Smith decided to steal the Heloise.’

  Smith kept his defence brief. ‘That’s how we caught the Tarquin on our tail.’

  Addo resumed his place in the chair, tapping in commands. ‘How are the other ships responding?’

  Clytemnestra checked her monitor. ‘The Astromarina ship has maint
ained her old course. The Sally Rose is turning away.’

  Addo smiled. ‘I suppose a warning shot didn’t hurt. The Astromarina superbitch won’t bother with us. She’ll have calculated the Pan ship will get here first, and we’re not worth a confrontation. Wait. We’re getting a message from the Panache. A question mark. Very succinct.’

  ‘Let’s be the same.’ Tod responded on the communications notepad with an exclamation mark and a smiley face.

  The reply, when it came, was lengthy in comparison. ‘Still require assistance?’

  ‘Medical, yes,’ wrote Tod.

  ‘All right,’ said Addo. ‘I’m adjusting again. Sing out if anything appears on our tail.’

  They watched intently. Nothing.

  ‘She’s gone,’ said Tod. He stared at the scanner, took a deep frustrated breath, then looked at Yasmin. ‘You fired.’

  ‘You said the Tarquin wouldn’t waste time negotiating. I messed up. Sorry. I’ve no idea how this thing works. Of course I missed. I just pressed the red button.’

  ‘That’s all you needed to do,’ said Tod, looking at the weapons control. ‘She’s still set for kill. The Heloise fixes on a target automatically, the moment anything is identified. But the Tarquin was way too far out. Far enough out to evade anything we sent at her. That’s why she hadn’t already attacked us. Even so…’

  Addo was scrolling through the records of the last half-hour. ‘She must have been on our tail for a while. We can’t have all-round scanning.’ He spoke into the intercom. ‘Seldon, you’ve got one of the antennae down?’

  ‘We did. Should have thought to rig up a substitute. It’s back online now.’

  ‘Good.’ Addo looked at Tod. ‘They knew we had a blind spot; they were using it. How did they know?’

  ‘Same way you’d know if they had one,’ said Smith. ‘They’ve got the same model Ultima as yours. They’ve figured out how to break through your block. I know, because I broke through theirs. Maybe that’s why they decided to make a run for it instead of staying to fight.’

  ‘Could be,’ said Tod. ‘Could be they’re damaged too. They took on a Ragnox fighter. Is the Ultima still reading her?’