Singing the Dogstar Blues

by Alison Goodman

  The room was nearly all bed. Unmade bed. Daniel Sunawa-Harrod was lying face down, his arms hugging a pillow. Camden-Stone pushed a pair of crumpled jeans to one side and sat on the bed next to him.

  ‘I don’t think you’ll get much sense out of him. He hit the Bliss-sticks pretty hard tonight,’ he said. He shook Sunawa-Harrod’s shoulder. ‘Danny, wake up. You’ve got visitors.’

  Sunawa-Harrod groaned. Camden-Stone gently pulled him over until he was lying on his back.

  Sunawa-Harrod wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and frowned against the light from the bedside lamp.

  ‘What do you want?’ he asked, opening his eyes.

  ‘Dan, this is Joss and Mav. They’ve come to see you.’

  ‘Who?’

  He struggled to sit up then settled for propping himself on an elbow.

  ‘I don’t know you, do I?’ he said to me. He looked at Mav. ‘I sure don’t know you.’

  ‘I’m your daughter,’ I blurted out. Screte! So much for breaking it to him gently. I dug my fingernails into my palm. Take it slow, Joss.

  ‘My daughter,’ he repeated blankly. Then he snorted, shaking his head.

  ‘Is this you’re idea of revenge?’ he asked Camden-Stone. He looked at me. ‘Did he tell you the whole story? It’s not my fault Jenny preferred me.’

  ‘No, this isn’t my idea,’ Camden-Stone protested. ‘I’m still working on the Jenny payback.’

  I stared at Sunawa-Harrod, trying to make him see the truth in my eyes.

  He had to believe me. I wanted a father. I wanted him to say daughter. ‘It’s not a joke,’ I said slowly. ‘I’ve jumped back from the future. I came back in the machine that you developed. I’m your daughter.’

  Sunawa-Harrod looked over at Camden-Stone, his eyebrows raised. ‘Cute, but completely twisted.’

  ‘Too many Bliss-sticks?’ Camden-Stone suggested.

  They both laughed. A private joke.

  Camden-Stone leaned closer to Sunawa-Harrod. ‘So, you got any other long-lost daughters you’ve never told me about?’ he whispered dramatically.

  I stared at Camden-Stone, the words ‘long-lost daughter’ thumping through my head. I was Daniel Sunawa-Harrod’s long lost daughter. I was his heir. Then the truth hit my gut like ice: the caveat. I was the one Tori Suka had been hired to kill!

  ‘What’s wrong? You’ve gone dead white,’ Camden-Stone said.

  ‘I’m fine,’ I managed to gasp out. Mav moved closer to me, trilling his concern. The two men stared at him. I half sat, half fell onto the bed. Camden-Stone leaned over and steadied me.

  ‘I think you really are buzzed out on Bliss. Maybe I should get a doctor?’ He was really concerned.

  ‘No. I’m fine. I’m fine,’ I said, grabbing the sleeve of his shirt. ‘I’ve just got to prove that I’m telling the truth. Ask me anything you want.’

  There was an awkward pause. Camden-Stone gently pulled his shirt out of my hand. He looked at Sunawa-Harrod and shrugged. Sunawa-Harrod cleared his throat.

  ‘Okay. So what was the date when you jumped back? What was the year?’ It was obvious he was humouring me.

  ‘March the 12th, ’67,’ I said.

  ‘Hey, that’s my birthday,’ Camden-Stone said. ‘It’s June ’48 now, so if you jumped back in ’67…’ He looked up, calculating. ‘My God, I’ll be fifty. Do you know me? Am I still suave and sophisticated?’

  He smoothed back his hair, pretending to primp in front of the mirror on the wall. I caught his eye in the reflection. What would happen if I told him his whole history? Would it make any difference? Would the knowledge make him or my father change the way they would act? I’d like to think it would have. But then if they do things differently, maybe Mav or me or the Centre wouldn’t happen.

  ‘No, I don’t know you,’ I said.

  Mav sniffed noisily and tapped his wrist under his sleeve. I looked at the countdown watch. Less than thirty minutes until T3 snapped forward to our own time.

  ‘Well, tell us something that’s going to happen,’ Sunawa-Harrod said.

  ‘That’s not going to prove anything,’ Camden-Stone argued. ‘She should write down something that happens in the future and seal it and then we’ll open it just after it happens.’

  ‘Where on earth did you get that idea?’ Sunawa-Harrod asked laughing.

  ‘I saw it in one of those old 2D movies,’ Camden-Stone said sheepishly.

  ‘Well, it’s stupid. I don’t even know why we’re even talking about it. She’s as mad as a virt-junkie.’

  Mav nudged me, tapping his wrist again. He was right, we had to get back to the Jumper.

  ‘It’s not stupid,’ I said. ‘Have you got a blank Reader?’

  ‘I’ve got something even better,’ Camden-Stone said. ‘Wait a sec.’ He hurried out of the room.

  Sunawa-Harrod shifted his weight irritably. He reached over to the bedside table and tapped a Bliss-stick out of a half-empty packet.

  ‘I’m telling the truth,’ I said.

  He lit the stick. The tip of his forefinger was stained Bliss blue.

  ‘Sure. I impregnated some woman when I was about ten. Happens all the time.’ He drew back hard and smiled as the narc hit his system. I sat forward.

  ‘You could come and see the Jumper. Then you’ll know it’s true.’

  Mav’s ears flicked under the hood. Sunawa-Harrod blew the used smoke upwards.

  ‘Nothing is moving me out of this bed,’ he said. ‘Especially not someone else’s Bliss dreams.’

  He leaned back against the wall, watching me. The only sound in the room was the soft hiss as he drew back on the stick. I stared at the floor, trying to find the magic words that would make him believe me. But who was I kidding? Nothing I was going to say was going to change the mind of this stranger sitting in front of me. I would have to make do with the sealed prediction. At least one day he would open it and know the truth.

  Mav was motioning urgently towards the door, but I needed to stay a little longer. I looked around the room. An alto saxophone was propped against the wall by the bed.

  ‘Do you play that?’ I asked, pointing to the sax.

  Sunawa-Harrod nodded.

  ‘I play blues harmonica,’ I said, pulling my harp out of my top pocket. ‘Chromatic.’

  ‘Let me have a look.’

  I passed him the harp. He balanced it in his hand.

  ‘Nice and light. It would have been a real drag to time travel with a cello, huh.’

  He laughed at his own joke and passed the harp back.

  ‘You any good?’ he asked.

  ‘I play with a band,’ I said. ‘I write stuff too.’

  He carefully snuffed out the end of the half-smoked stick then leaned over and picked up his sax.

  ‘Great. Play something you’ve written. I’ll join in.’ He drew his mouth along the reed to wet it.

  ‘Sure, why not,’ I said, trying to be ultra cool. ‘I’ve just finished working out a duet. Here, I’ll play your part first.’

  I took a deep breath and put the harp to my mouth, but the breath got caught in my thumping chest and I half choked, half gasped. So much for cool.

  ‘You okay?’ Sunawa-Harrod asked.

  Mav crooned anxiously behind me.

  ‘I’m fine.’

  I took another breath and looked my father in the eye. This time The Dogstar Blues came out strong and clear. Sunawa-Harrod listened with his head to one side, beating the time against the mattress with his foot.

  ‘Okay, I got it,’ he said. ‘Mind if we jazz it up a bit?’

  He didn’t wait for an answer, but moved in with a quick, clever variation of his part. He played fast with a lot of notes and an emphasis on technique. A Charlie Parker fan.

  An old bass player once told me that the blues and jazz were all about expressing your own voice, letting your rhythms show through the music. If he was right, then Daniel Sunawa-Harrod was expressing a deep-seated need to be number one.

  I trie
d to bring us back to the melody line, but he cut across me, shrieking into another intricate solo. He obviously didn’t know the meaning of ‘duet’. I was being blown out of my own song. Then suddenly he slowed down the pace, each note becoming a statement. The change threw me right off and I stopped playing. He glanced at me, almost as if in apology, then closed his eyes. The music climbed into a high wail. He was playing for himself, unaware he was betraying a loneliness that echoed Mav’s death keen for Kelmav. I glanced at Mav. He was swaying and I thought I heard him humming a soft harmony.

  Camden-Stone came back into the room, shutting the door behind him. Sunawa-Harrod stopped playing.

  It was suddenly silent.

  ‘Don’t mind me,’ Camden-Stone said.

  ‘We were just having a bit of a jam,’ Sunawa-Harrod said. He cleared his throat. ‘So what have you got there?’

  Camden-Stone was holding an elaborate folder with a gold design etched on the front. He opened it and took out a gold ballpoint pen and a piece of real paper.

  ‘Dad gave me this whole set for my birthday, last year,’ Camden-Stone said. ‘A beauty, hey?’

  He passed the pen and paper to me. It was the same pen as the one in his office, back in our own time.

  ‘Okay, Joss. Write something from the future. But try not to mess up. That paper costs the earth.’

  I squatted beside the bedside table, laying the paper carefully on the hard surface.

  Camden-Stone slid across the bed, blocking Sunawa-Harrod’s view.

  ‘Don’t watch, Dan,’ he said. ‘It’ll wreck the whole thing if we see what she writes.’

  ‘This is stupid,’ Sunawa-Harrod muttered.

  I stared hard at the blank piece of paper. What should I write? Something that would show Daniel Sunawa-Harrod that I was really from the future. Really his daughter. Something big. Then I remembered Independence Day and wrote:

  Daniel Sunawa-Harrod will receive the Nobel-Takahini Prize for Science on 10/10/50.

  I looked at him lounging on the bed. He had dismantled the mouthpiece of his sax and was cleaning the reed. I added:

  I know you stole the time-jumping field from Joseph Camden-Stone.

  I don’t know why I wrote that. I think it was just to let him know that he didn’t completely get away with it.

  ‘Are you finished?’ Camden-Stone asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Seal it up in this then.’ He handed me a long ivory-coloured envelope.

  I folded the paper, slid it inside the envelope and sealed it. Then on the front, I wrote:

  To be opened by Daniel Sunawa-Harrod on 11/10/50.

  I held it out to Sunawa-Harrod.

  ‘So, will you do it? Will you keep this and open it on that date?’ I asked.

  He shrugged. ‘Why not.’ He took the envelope, balancing it in his hand.

  I touched his shoulder.

  ‘Please, don’t forget.’

  Mav grunted beside me, catching my eye. I nodded.

  ‘We’ve got to go,’ I said.

  ‘You should look us up in the future,’ Sunawa-Harrod said. ‘We could all get together and have a party.’ He laughed at his own joke.

  Camden-Stone caught my arm.

  ‘Can I have my pen back?’

  ‘Sure. Sorry.’ I handed it over.

  ‘No problemo. Maybe I’ll see you later.’ He smiled and opened the bedroom door.

  That’s when I remembered the shadow in the lab.

  The Shadow

  Mav and I had just reached the camouflaged Jumper when the watch beeped and vibrated against my wrist.

  ‘We’ve only got five minutes left,’ I said.

  He nodded, pulling the mask off his face. I deactivated the holo unit and the stun stakes. The dark splodge that concealed T3 wavered then disappeared. Mav jumped into action, ripping up the stakes and shoving them into the carrybag. I pulled open the cabin hatch and climbed in.

  The T3 countdown clock read three minutes, twenty-four seconds.

  Mav passed me the bag. I jammed it under the console, pushing my legs down either side of it. Mav swung into his seat and slid the hood back off his head. He shook out his ears.

  ‘What are we going do about that shadow in the lab?’ I asked. ‘What if it’s Camden-Stone?’ I pulled the hatch closed, securing the cabin seal.

  ‘Refmol is there,’ Mav sang confidently. ‘Refmol will protect us.’

  He was right. The Chanter would help us. Maybe it could even work out another way to save Mav. Then I remembered Refmol’s own desperation and my mouth was flooded with sour fear. This had been Mav’s last chance and we had failed.

  Mav grabbed my arm.

  ‘Look, only one minute to go. This time I do not shield my eyes.’

  ‘Well I’m keeping mine glued shut,’ I said, swallowing hard. I never wanted to see my own skeleton again. I took Mav’s hand in mine.

  The clock counted down. I watched the red figures flick past. Ten seconds. I suddenly thought of Sunawa-Harrod’s blue-stained finger. Should I have warned him about his future? Should I have warned Camden-Stone? Then I saw the metal skin of T3 start to ripple. I closed my eyes. Concentrated on my breathing. Circular. Deep. There was only my breathing. No sound, no sight. My head crackled with oxygen. Mav shuddered against me. Then he relaxed.

  Ten seconds later I opened my eyes.

  Too much light. I blinked fast. Then Lisa and Refmol blurred into view, still standing at the console. Lisa stepped forward, smiling. I turned my head towards the door. The figure was too slight for Camden-Stone.

  ‘Behind you,’ I shouted, but the T3 cabin swallowed the sound.

  I hit the harness buckle with my palm and pushed against the hatch. It popped open. I pulled myself out, stumbling over the cabin seals. Lisa ran forward, in between me and the door.

  ‘You did it,’ she cried.

  A silent laser-blast hit her in the shoulder. She twisted and hit the floor, skidding on her own blood. A long shiny-wet smear.

  At the doorway, Tori Suka stood silently. She raised the snub nose of the laser, the red guider-light flowing over my chest. She was looking straight at me, through the sight. I could see her frown of concentration, her teeth biting her lower lip.

  ‘No!’ Mav shrieked behind me.

  Tori Suka’s eyes widened. Her mouth opened, as if to say something. Then she collapsed onto her knees, falling forward on top of her gun. A long thin knife stood upright between her shoulder blades.

  A man stood in the doorway. A large man in an ugly denim suit. The steroid guy.

  Lisa groaned.

  ‘You should get your friend to a doctor,’ the steroid guy said gesturing at Lisa. He stepped over Suka’s body.

  I grabbed onto the side of the T3, holding myself upright.

  ‘Who are you?’

  ‘Just call me George,’ He said. ‘Lenny hired me to guard you. Good thing, too.’

  Refmol ran over to Lisa. ‘The life liquid leaves her. Quick, Mavkel. Assist.’

  Mav took hold of my arm.

  ‘Come. Sit down,’ he sang gently.

  He steered me towards Refmol. I leaned against him. I couldn’t seem to walk properly. He eased me down on the ground beside Lisa. Refmol was holding her wound together, the blood oozing between his fingers.

  ‘I think I’m going to be sick,’ I whispered, pressing my hand against my mouth.

  ‘Put your head between your legs,’ George advised.

  I dropped my head between my knees. It helped.

  ‘How did Lenny know Suka was after me?’ I asked, lifting my head. George was inspecting Suka’s body. I put my head down again.

  ‘Lenny didn’t go into specifics. He just told me to keep an eye on you. An extreme eye.’ He lifted Suka’s shoulder and pulled the gun out from under her.

  ‘Joss, we must bring a human doctor for Lisa,’ Mav sang urgently.

  ‘I’ll get someone,’ I said, pushing myself onto my knees.

  That was as far as I got.
The strange hiss-pop of another laser shot sounded. George collapsed next to Suka.

  I looked up at the doorway. Camden-Stone. His gun was still raised. He poked Suka’s body with his foot.

  ‘Stupid bitch,’ he said. ‘Couldn’t hit a rabbit nailed to the ground.’

  ‘You’re the one who hired Suka!’ I said, all the pieces of the puzzle locking together.

  ‘Of course I did,’ Camden-Stone said. ‘You’re not getting my Centre, Aaronson.’ He stepped over the two bodies and pointed his gun at me. ‘You’re not getting it.’

  ‘I don’t want it,’ I said.

  ‘It’s mine now. I’ve done the work. I’ve built it up. It’s mine.’

  ‘It’s yours,’ I said desperately, but he wasn’t listening. He was in some kind of overdrive.

  Refmol held up his hand. ‘Professor Camden-Stone, do not …’

  Camden-Stone swung the gun around and fired. The shot pushed Refmol sideways into Mav.

  ‘He wants to kill,’ the Chanter gasped, clawing Mav’s shoulder. ‘I felt it in his mind. We must Rastun. Rastun now!’

  Rastun?

  The mind weapon!

  Mav grabbed my arm, jerking me across his body. He held my head hard against his chest and began to keen. The sound pulsed in time with his heartbeats, shuddering through my head. I tried to pull away, but his hand held me down.

  The pulsing became faster and faster. My mind was being ripped apart by sound, by rhythm. I gasped for breath as waves of pain became smooth seamless agony. Far away, I heard Mav’s voice. What was he saying? I curled closer, trying to hear.

  Refmol’s keen merged with Mav’s. It merged with mine. I was screaming. Rolling in a fireball. Mav was trying to join. He was saying we can join now. He was strong now.

  Then he pulled me up, out of the pain.

  We were floating just above it. We were with others. Refmol, Molref, Gohjec, Jecgoh. So many others. Our eyes turned to the one who was hurting us. Camden-Stone. He was with us too. Floating. We could see all of him. All of his plans. We felt his pain. Deep inside him we saw the purple. Serenity. Peace. So small, but we could reach it. We heard his cry. Why did Danny do it? It washed through him, darkening the colours of his mind with black bitterness. We had to cut away the blackness. Leave only the purple. We sliced through the oily darkness. Hacking, cutting, clearing. But when we reached the purple, it was too small, too weak. The purple was dying. Camden-Stone was dying. We cradled the purple as it faded into blue. Cold pale blue that spiralled into nothing.