by James Murdo
Seremend took a step back and smiled shallowly. “Are you sure you’re not overthinking this?”
“The dispenser then – where does the food come from? It never runs out, and we throw the empty packets into compression units that never seem to fill.”
“That’s easy,” Seremend said authoritatively, although her furtive glance at the food dispenser and compression unit nearby betrayed her uncertainty. “A ship this size… must have significant resources.”
“But my point is that this all adds up to be something different, something not quite…”
“Quite what?”
“Us. Something not quite us. Something else. Come on, you must have given it some thought.”
She leaned her back against the wall. “Of course, I have,” she admitted, looking surprised at herself. “But… then why any of this? Why–”
“Come on. This is good, isn’t it?” He walked over and placed a hand on her shoulder. “We’re understanding more about it. We’re understanding where we are.”
“It’s not that.”
“What, then?”
She delicately took his hand off her shoulder and sat down on the floor. He joined her.
“I was never afraid of anything growing up,” she said, finally. “Nothing, not anything. You couldn’t be.”
He waited for her to continue, but she did not. He moved his face closer to hers. “I was always afraid of the dark – my biggest fear.” It elicited a smile from her, although she continued looking at the same spot on the floor.
“But I wasn’t. Not even that. Nothing scared me. Nirloden is a fringe world in our empire. Ever since the first trade disputes, it all worked out very badly for us. We’ve had nothing. It’s just a dumping ground for anything visitors don’t want. You don’t go there unless you’ve little choice. Growing up was tough, but… I’ve always thought I was more than tough enough. It’s just this… there’s nothing we can do. There’s no way out.” She looked up at him. Her eyes were brimming with tears. “I don’t want to go back, but I feel so helpless.”
“It’s okay,” he said, taking her hands delicately. “You’ve got me.”
Her mouth formed a delicate smile, and they sat next to each other in silence, until Seremend jolted forwards. She looked into his eyes. “Tolren!”
“What is it?”
She pushed herself off the floor and rushed to the food dispenser.
“Thank you,” he began, rubbing his stomach. “I was just thinking–”
“Not that!” she shouted, laughing. She grabbed the packet the machine produced and thrust it towards him. “Look – the timestamp!”
“Of course,” he said, excited.
“This is how we track the spike-ships, Tolren!”
18
INSPIRED THOUGHTS
Many days had passed since their idea to record the appearances of the spike-ships. They spent most of their time in the newest compartment. Every time one of them spotted a spike-ship, on either side, the other would run to the food dispenser and place an order. The dispensed packet – bearing the current timestamp – would be added to the collection taking shape in the penultimate compartment.
“It’s gone,” Tolren shouted to Seremend from the end compartment. “Quick one, that time.” He walked to meet her in the compartment with the rest of the packets. She entered with a food packet.
She put the packet at the front of the long row that curved around the segment, spiralling inwards. “Wish they’d come closer, like the first one.”
Tolren nodded in agreement.
“Least this compartment has a purpose,” she said, humorously.
They stood back to survey the collection of packets.
“Let’s begin,” Tolren said
*
To their surprise, it was not long before their study of the timestamps yielded something of interest.
“It’s a pattern,” Seremend said, putting the most recent packet down. “The periods waiting for spike-ships to appear start to repeat, over and over. Look.” She pointed at different parts of the collection. “Doesn’t even take long to repeat. How’d we miss this before?”
Tolren frowned. “But what about the times themselves? They’re not the same.”
“Maybe it doesn’t matter. Sometimes the spike-ships pass by quicker, sometimes they pass slower. It might be related.”
“Sometimes parts of the pattern skip,” Tolren said, uncertainly.
“Maybe we missed them.” She looked excited. “What d’you think–”
Before she could continue, the compartment began to rumble. Through the windows, the stars began to twinkle out. They turned to the closed hatch at the end of the final compartment expectantly, and cast each other nervous smiles as it shuddered, cracking open.
They waited until the two sides of the hatch door had completely retreated into the walls, and walked forwards to take a better look. Seremend’s hands bunched into tight fists.
“What’s the point?” she asked, suddenly annoyed. She looked at Tolren, expectantly. “Is this ever going to end?”
“Wait,” Tolren said gently, not taking his eyes off the newly exposed compartment.
“What do you mean? It’s just the same.”
“Look.” He raised an arm to point at the circular windows of the new compartment. “What’re they?”
Seremend squinted and took a step closer, before bursting into laughter. “Buttons, they’re buttons! We should be so grateful, shouldn’t we?”
“It’s something,” Tolren said.
Seremend shook her head. “Certainly is.”
They moved into the new compartment and walked right up to the first window on the left. Underneath the circular glintsparse, was a small, round, black button. It did not appear touch sensitive, like the controls on the food dispenser, but mechanical.
“Shall we?” Seremend asked.
“What’ve we got to lose,” Tolren replied, shrugging.
Seremend delicately brought a finger up and pressed the button – which indented before returning to its prior position. Immediately, the window above the button turned completely black.
They waited, but nothing else happened.
Without saying anything, Seremend pressed the button again. The window became transparent. And pressing again, opaque. She tapped it, vigorously. “Is that it?” she asked, annoyed. “What’s the point?”
Tolren was equally nonplussed. They tested the buttons under the other windows too. Each did the same.
“At least it’s something,” Tolren said.
“Barely,” Seremend said, indignantly.
“We must be getting closer.”
“To what?”
Tolren had no answer. After some time, they resigned themselves to looking out of the windows, as they had before – sitting with their backs against the walls, facing each other from opposite sides of the compartment.
Seremend’s eyes lit up. “Behind you.” She rushed over to the window beside his. He stood up and turned around. The window was opaque, so he pressed the button and it became transparent.
“Finally,” Seremend said. “It’s close.”
The spike-ship was coming from above, relative to their own position, sweeping down. It was almost level with them, moving quickly. Despite being close, its features were very dark, and the entire structure was almost only visible by account of the stars it blotted out in the spacescape behind. Circles that were only just discernible were arranged in a line on its hull, presumably from windows that had been switched to opaque.
“Down there.” Tolren motioned far down the spike-ship. Seremend pressed her cheek against the glintsparse to see what he referred to.
“The light’s coming from windows all the way down there, isn’t it?” Seremend said. “It’s so long.” She sounded almost frightened.
“I know,” Tolren said. Strangely, with the light spilling out from far down the spike-ship’s length, and its proximity, it seemed much longer than the o
thers they had seen in the past that had been further away. Only when it was this close did they appreciate its sheer size.
“Where are we?” she asked.
The spike-ship started to move too far below. All too soon, it was gone.
Seremend carried on. “Is it even a ship?”
“Did you see the flickering?” Tolren asked quietly.
“Flickering?”
“I think some of the windows were being… opened and closed, I guess.”
“The light was flickering, you mean?” Seremend’s voice rose. “Like a signal?”
“I think so.”
“What does it mean?”
“I don’t know. We’re not alone?”
*
They sat in the end compartment, again facing each other. Seremend’s eyes were wandering around while Tolren looked down, his elbows resting on his knees.
“I don’t think they’re ships,” Seremend said, finally. “It’s like we’re at the end of something vast, but it can’t be a ship, it’s too big.”
“No.” Tolren attempted to gather his own thoughts. “I don’t think so either.”
“More like…”
“Spires?” Tolren suggested. “We’re in spires.”
“We’re in spires,” Seremend repeated. “And we’re not alone.”
They mused in silence. Every now and then, one of them would look at the other.
“You know what?” Seremend said, breaking the silence. “The spires… they always slant, don’t they? They’re never completely level.”
“That’s true.”
“But… depending on where they are, they only slant in one direction.” Seremend held an arm up level. “This is us,” she said, before holding up her other arm at an angle to it. “And this is another spire. When it’s above the windows, it slants in this direction, and when it’s below, it slants in the other.”
“You’re saying we’re –”
“Rotating. They’re rotating around us, or we’re rotating around them. Or everything is.”
Tolren leaned back, folding his arms. “The spires are rotating around each other. Maybe they’re all connected somewhere, far away. What’s at the end?”
“I want to find out,” Seremend said fiercely.
19
CONNECTED SURPRISE
Tolren was woken by banging on his side-room’s hatch door. Groggily, he rose to his feet.
“What is it?” he asked as the hatch door slid to the side.
Seremend was standing there. Her eyes were slightly red, as though she were tired or had been crying, although she seemed excited.
“Tolren, there’s another spire. Quick!”
He followed her to the next segment along with windows and took the position next to her. The spire was moving closer, diagonally-upwards, and at a reasonable pace. It was currently near-level with them. The windows were all transparent, with an orange light spilling from them, but no discernible features inside.
“Look closer,” Seremend whispered.
He did. That was when he noticed the hull. It was not like the others they had seen before. There were small, ethereal protrusions extending from it. Difficult to see at first, but now they were hard to miss. The entire hull seemed to shimmer and writhe.
“Quillians!”
“Who?” Seremend asked.
“Those look like Quillian fronds. They design their ships that way.”
“What’re fronds?”
The spire was now completely level with their own.
“Sensory organs. Usually they’re bigger.”
Seremend sounded curious. “I think I… recognise them, actually. There was something like it on Nirloden. Near the cabin-ship that took me.”
“Makes two of us,” Tolren muttered. “They do seem to get around.”
A form appeared in one of the windows.
Seremend gasped. “That’s a Quillian?”
“It’s…” Tolren could barely reply. “That’s a Quillian!”
The Quillian waved its body-fronds about wildly.
“Will it help? Are they friendly?” Seremend asked rapidly.
“I…”
“What’s it doing?”
More Quillians came to the other windows.
“Four! There are four of them!” Seremend shouted. “What’re they doing?”
Almost immediately, as though in response to her, all the Quillians stopped waving their fronds about. The spire was moving higher, and would soon be out of their view.
“Have they even noticed us?” Seremend asked, perplexed, staring at them.
“They’re thinking,” Tolren said. “Takes them some time. Their fronds take in so much information.”
Each Quillian joined its fronds into one single protrusion and pointed it in a singular direction.
“What?” Tolren spluttered.
A moment later, all of the windows turned opaque. They watched and waited, but the spire moved too high. It was gone.
“What was that?” Seremend asked, turning to Tolren.
Tolren reticently dragged his gaze from the window. “They looked–”
“Terrified,” Seremend almost shouted, alarmed.
Tolren did not reply, until Seremend turned to stare at him expectantly. “They’re naturally very timid,” he said, at last. “Perhaps we’re the first they’ve come across, the same as us.”
“But why were they pointing at me? Why not you?”
“You’re probably mistaken, they were moving fast, besides–”
“But you thought it too, didn’t you?” Her eyes narrowed.
He ignored the question. “Look – they’re probably trapped too, just like us. They’re frightened.”
Seremend huffed and looked out of the window into the spacescape. “Their spire had… fronds – is that what you called them?”
He nodded, turned to lean against the wall and sunk to the floor. “Fronds, yes.”
Seremend sat down beside him.
“What’re we meant to do?” she asked. “Work with them? Is that what the buttons are for? Signals?”
Tolren nodded. “Maybe.”
The floor began to rumble again. They glanced at each other, neither saying anything until it was over. Once everything was still again, they rose to their feet, and walked to the middle of the compartment to stare down the centre, in the direction of the previously closed end-hatch.
“Finally,” Seremend said, as they stood still, staring. “Something new.”
They both waited at the freshly opened hatch entrance, and looked in. The new compartment was unlike the others.
It was about half the length of the others – which were all approximately the same length, even the cabin room. There were three transparent modules on either side, with windows on the segments of the hull they covered. Two on the left, and one on the right, contained a large, comfortable-looking seat. The other three were empty. In front of the modules with seats were control panels. Unlike the panel at the front of the spire in the cabin room, the control panels in the modules were not clear.
They walked cautiously into the compartment. There were simple mechanical handles on the transparent outer casing of each module.
Tolren looked at Seremend as he firmly grabbed a module’s handle. She moved to stand back-to-back with him, grabbing a handle for a module on the opposite side.
“Ready?” he asked.
Together, they tugged at the handles. The section of casing parallel to the windows swung open easily. Tolren took a step inside his, while Seremend hung back.
“Are you sure?” she asked.
“What choice do we have?” he replied, without turning.
“Fine,” she said. “Oh – wait!” She closed the module she had just opened, and instead opened the module next to Tolren’s on the other side. Their eyes briefly met and Tolren flashed her an encouraging smile.
They walked fully into the modules, around the seats, and then sat down simultaneously. Neither spoke wh
ile they studied the control panels.
At the top of the control panel there were seven red lights, arranged horizontally. Three circular pads were lower down, arranged vertically, perpendicular to the red lights. The central pad was larger than the others. The window was at the same level as in the preceding compartments, at the correct level for them to easily look out. There was a button just beneath the window which appeared to control its transparency – the same as before.
Tolren looked over to Seremend’s control panel and saw that she was also looking at his. They were identical.
“What is this place?” Seremend said. Her voice was clear, despite the casing between them.
“I don’t know,” he replied. He saw her smile too, knowing they could perfectly hear each other through the modules.
“Do you think…” She hesitated. “These’re for communicating… with the other spires?”
“I hope so.”
“Shall we…” She motioned towards the pads. “Together?”
“But there’s no spire.”
She shrugged.
“Alright.” He nodded. “The middle one?”
“Ready?”
They pressed them together, but nothing happened. They proceeded to try all the pads, to no avail.
“Maybe we need to wait for a spire,” Tolren said cheerily, attempting not to appear disheartened.
They waited for a long time in the hope of another spire, but none came.
“We’ll die of starvation,” Seremend said glumly. “Come on, we’ll come back.”
As they left, Seremend tried the handle of one of the empty modules. It contained no chair or control console, just a window. The handle would not budge.
Walking towards the main cabin, Seremend stopped and placed a hand on Tolren’s shoulder. He stopped too.
*
The sequence of events danced around energetically in Tolren’s mind as he awoke, lying next to Seremend, on the comfortable flairfold. They had been moving towards her side-room, when she suggested his would do. He had followed her in.