The Strange

by Masha du Toit

  “Oof. I bet that didn’t go down well.”

  “Nope.” Kiran shook her head. “You know, I’d noticed that something was wrong with Issy, but I hadn’t realised just how traumatised she was until Noor spelled it out. Nightmares, mood swings, the ways she’s changed since all that happened with Jinan Meer and Missy Cloete. And you know, Ndlela seems fine, but he’s probably processing some pretty heavy things too, all alone inside himself.”

  “That’s true,” said Elke. “I wondered about that myself. So, what happened?”

  “Nothing happened, really. They went to bed, all unresolved.”

  “Not exactly how we pictured the outcome of our grand rescue mission.”

  Kiran gave a snort of laughter. “You’re telling me.”

  Elke settled back in her chair, waking the chorus of creaks again. “Well, you called it.” She stretched out her legs in front of her. “Remember? You said that Noor would forget the Marine Guard the minute she set eyes on the menha. You should have seen her jumping into the harbour with them.”

  Kiran laughed, a carefree sound in the dark. “I don’t think Thandeka is too charmed with that either.”

  “No. I bet she isn’t.” Elke smiled. “Noor kind of reminds me of me of when I was her age. I was infatuated with the Rent. Looking for somewhere to belong, I guess. Something to believe in.” She rested her head on the chair back. “You must have joined the Marine Guard at more or less that age too?”

  “I did,” said Kiran. “It’s tough, being a teen. I had a really bad case of ‘who the hell am I’, at about Noor’s age. I had this whole thing going on, you know, where do I really belong. In the Real, or in the Strange, or both, or neither...”

  “That’s when you got your gills done?”

  “Yeah. Exactly.” Kiran was silhouetted against the light coming in through the balcony so Elke couldn’t make out her expression. “I don’t know how much you know about the Guard, but they have this thing about body modification.”

  “I’ve noticed,” Elke said dryly.

  “Okay, sure,” Kiran said, half laughing. “But it’s more than just about looking cool. They think you can purify your genes.” She gave a snort. “Lot of pseudo-scientific nonsense. ‘We take only the best, body, mind and soul’.”

  Kiran looked into the dark, remembering.

  “I never really fit in. Don’t get me wrong, I loved the actual work. Hunting down poachers, cleaning all that crap out of the ocean. One of the seals used to come to me so I could unwind the plastic from her neck and flippers. They can’t get it off themselves.” Kiran sighed, and lapsed into silence.

  “So, what happened?” Elke asked at last.

  “I’m not really sure.” Kiran shifted in her chair. “Funny thing, it was the stuff I used to really like that just became unbearable. We used to go out and do these education talks with ‘the community’.” Kiran made ironic air-quotes with her fingers. “People who live near the sea, make their living fishing. We taught them how to live without destroying the very thing that’s keeping them alive.

  “I mean, I believe in education and all that, but it was hard to ignore just how fricken pompous we all were. Preaching at these people, some of them knew way more than we did, even if they didn’t have actual gills. I don’t know. It was just a lot of little things. Personality clashes too. That Mama Ukrebe has quite the ego.”

  “So, you left?”

  Kiran nodded. “Best decision I ever made.”

  “Do you regret doing it? I mean—regret joining the Marine Guard in the first place?”

  “Oh hell, no!” Kiran sounded surprised. “Do you? Regret the joining the Rent?”

  Elke thought about it. “I don’t regret it,” she said slowly. “I did things that I wouldn’t do now. And I do regret some of the things I did. But I don’t regret joining the Rent. They made me who I am.”

  “Exactly.” A smile warmed Kiran’s voice. “That’s it exactly.”

  They sat listening to the sound of the sea. After a few minutes, Kiran rose from her seat and went to stand at the edge of the balcony.

  “Listen,” Elke sat forward. “I meant to ask you. Did you notice how secretive Maxwell Jali’s being about his trips to the Eye?”

  “Oh, yeah.” Kiran turned to face Elke, leaning back against the balustrade. “As soon as Thandeka and Sadh left, Maxwell got all wide-eyed and whispery. Told me not to let on I’d seen him there. And did you notice, Sadh said something that puzzled me. He said how ironic it was that Maxwell Jali, who’d been in so many worlds around the Strange, hasn’t been out of his own rooms for years.”

  “So, Sadh doesn’t know that Maxwell’s been to the Eye,” said Elke.

  “He definitely doesn’t. And here’s the thing. Maxwell was the one that financed the Ishtar Gate, right? And the Babylon Eye. He was around when they built that portal.”

  They’d been talking softly, but now Kiran’s voice dropped even lower, so that Elke had to lean forward to catch her next words.

  “What if he’s got some way to get back to the Eye? Something that’s right here? In these rooms?”

  Elke took a moment to absorb this. “Like a stitch-gate, you mean?”

  “Who knows? But he’s definitely got some way to get to the Eye without Esseret Sadh knowing about it. And Sadh seems like quite a sharp guy.”

  “Huh.” Elke rubbed her hands up and down her arms, thinking. “If there is, that might be a way back for us. If he lets us use it, that is.”

  Kiran turned back to the view. “That’s exactly the problem.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Elke. “Why wouldn’t he help us? He seemed really charmed with you, at any rate. What with the singing.”

  “Not any more, he isn’t,” said Kiran. “Not since his medic told him I’m sick.”

  “He freaked out about that?”

  Kiran gave a humourless laugh. “You could say that.”

  “Does Hugin know what’s wrong with you yet?”

  Kiran shook her head. She suddenly looked very small, bundled up in the biosuit. Elke rose quietly and went to stand next to her.

  The view was spectacular, even in the dark. The sky was pricked with stars, and a scatter of warmer lights on the horizon reminded Elke of the cargo ships waiting out there in the night. Below them the sea crawled, humped breakers draped with scarves of foam.

  Elke watched as a hill of water broke against the cliff below, casting up a burst of foaming spray, followed a heartbeat later by the boom of its impact. The broken wave streamed back over the rocks and a moment later another rolling hill broke and boomed again.

  “So, they don’t know what’s wrong with you yet?”

  “Hugin said the test results would only be ready tomorrow morning. Or— I suppose, this morning, now.”

  “Are you scared?”

  Another wave broke while Elke waited for Kiran’s reply. When she answered, her words were nearly lost in the noise of the water below.

  “Yes. I’m scared.”

  Elke searched for something to say. Don’t worry. You’ll be fine. It’s nothing serious. All words of comfort seemed either inadequate or untrue.

  Tentatively, she put a hand on Kiran’s shoulder. When Kiran didn’t draw away, she firmed her grip and gently pulled her round, so she could see Kiran’s face, shrouded as it was in plastic.

  “Damn this thing,” Elke muttered. She unclipped the biosuit’s hood, slipped it back, and drew the mask down to reveal Kiran’s face. “That’s better. I hate not seeing you when I’m talking to you.”

  “Why did you do that?” Kiran tried to tug her mask back up, but Elke caught her hands between her own.

  “If you’re infectious, I’ve probably already caught whatever it is you have.” Elke released Kiran’s hands, and touched her face instead, smoothing away strands of hair.

  “I’m serious,” Kiran said, closing her eyes.

  “So am I.”

  And Elke bent to kiss her, tasting the salt of tears.
r />   Kiran stiffened, and for an instant Elke thought she would draw back. But then her mouth opened and she leaned into the kiss, her arms winding round Elke’s neck.

  When they came up for breath, Kiran leaned back, looking into Elke’s eyes. “I’ve been wanting to do that for the longest time.”

  “Hmm. I’ve been meaning to tell you.” Elke’s hands slipped down until they rested on Kiran’s hips. “I’ve got kind of a crush on you.”

  This made Kiran laugh, and she unwound an arm to try and wipe her face on the plastic of her biosuit’s sleeve. “A crush!” The sleeve proved useless, so she wiped her eyes with her gloved hand instead. “I haven’t heard that word since I was a teenager.”

  “Well,” Elke said a little grumpily. “You make me feel just like a teenager. I thought I was over all of that.”

  “Old woman as you are.” Kiran grinned, and bumped her nose on Elke’s. Her expression became more serious. “But listen. Even if you don’t care, I don’t think we should be, you know—kissing and stuff. Not until we know what’s wrong with me, anyway.”

  “Hmm.” Elke leaned in for another kiss, but this time Kiran pulled back.

  “No, really. I’m serious. I don’t want to give you whatever the hell this is I’ve got.” Kiran pulled the mask back into place. “You better go wash your face. And rinse your mouth.”

  Elke’s eyebrows rose, but she could see that Kiran was in earnest.

  “Yes, ma’am.” She released her hold. “For now. But that doesn’t mean that this”—she touched Kiran’s now masked face again—“ is over, okay?”

  She kissed Kiran where the biosuit’s mask covered her forehead. “Whatever happens, we’re going to figure it out together. You hear me?”

  Kiran nodded wordlessly.

  Fail Safe

  The worst thing about being trapped out in the pod-ship control room, Ndlela decided, was not knowing how much time was passing.

  He and Isabeau had slept for what felt like hours, and then spent several more talking. They tried to guess what might have happened to Elke, Noor, and Kiran. Isabeau was also worried about Tomas and Danger and wondering whether Meisje might find them.

  At first, Isabeau had been sure that Tomas would alert Sparks or Dolly to their predicament, and that they would come to investigate. But as the hours dragged by, and nothing happened, that hope began to fade.

  Isabeau went up into the pod-ship again.

  “You know,” she called down to Ndlela, “I think I can see some of them. Those filaments. Come and look.”

  Ndlela climbed up the ladder to join her. There wasn’t much space for him, since the pod-ship had been designed for a single person. He squeezed in behind the pilot’s seat, where Isabeau was sitting.

  “See?” Isabeau was looking upward.

  The little ship’s cabin was enclosed in a bubble of some tough, transparent substance, so it was possible to see in all directions. At first, all Ndlela could make out were the drifting, multicoloured stars deep in the void. Then something fizzed past. For a moment he thought it was a shooting star, but then another one zipped past, travelling at right-angles to the first.

  His eyes adjusted, and he realised that the light was much closer than the stars, only a few metres away, a coruscating spark fizzing along a wire.

  Another spark fizzed, and then another, and all at once, as if somebody had thrown a switch, a web of light sparkled into being above them.

  “Oh!” Isabeau stood. She bumped her head on the curve of the cabin roof but didn’t seem to notice.

  They watched as the glowing web of intersecting lines intensified, and then, strand by strand, died down again into invisibility.

  “Wow,” said Ndlela.

  “Wow!” Isabeau agreed, rubbing her forehead absently. “Do you think— Do you think that’s what it looks like, when they open a gate?”

  “Maybe. Probably.”

  “If we can get Missy to see it like that, she’d have to believe us.”

  “She might,” said Ndlela. “But how do we know when it will happen again? It might not for hours.”

  “That’s true.” Isabeau slumped back down into the pilot’s chair again.

  “Issy, let’s not hang out up here.” Ndlela looked around the cabin. “Next thing, one of us presses a button with our elbow—”

  “Okay, okay.” Isabeau sounded a little irritated, but she got out of the pilot’s chair without further argument. As she followed him through the hatch down into the control room, she paused.

  “Ndlela.”

  Ndlela, halfway down the ladder, looked up, catching something in her voice.

  “You know this hatch thing?” Isabeau fingered the mechanism that lowered the ladder. “Could we jam it somehow?”

  “Why—? Oh!” Ndlela stared up at her. “You mean—”

  “If the hatch is jammed open, the ship can’t launch, can it?”

  “Well—” Ndlela stuck out a lip, considering. “That’s how it’s supposed to work. It’s a good idea.”

  “Can we try?” Isabeau shook the top of the ladder, making it rattle. “Maybe we can pull this ladder out—”

  “Get down from there.”

  Ndlela jumped to the floor and looked for the toolbox they’d found earlier. Luckily, it wasn’t locked, but it held only a handful of small tools: a pair of pliers, several screwdrivers, wire cutters, a hammer, a multi-meter, a shifting spanner, and a collection of drill bits, but no drill.

  “No, you don’t,” Ndlela stopped Isabeau from grabbing the hammer. “I’ll do it. We don’t want to end up causing a decompression event. You go sit on that chair and stay there.”

  Isabeau watched as Ndlela folded the ladder and closed the hatch, and then opened it again, studying the way the ladder unfolded, and exactly how the various latches released.

  Next, he unscrewed a panel in the hatch, and spent a long time just looking inside it, humming to himself.

  “Can you do it?” Isabeau said at last.

  “I think so. Can you pass me the wire cutters?”

  Isabeau got the wire cutters out of the toolbox and handed them to Ndlela.

  “Okay. Here goes.” Ndlela reached inside the hatch, holding the cutter with both hands.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Just—just cutting—” His arm jerked, and something made a sharp ping. “There. That should do it.”

  Isabeau watched in surprise as he screwed the panel back on.

  “Is that all?”

  “I think so.” Ndlela jumped to the floor and tried to lift the ladder again. Instead of neatly folding up into its compartment as it had before, now it just rattled in his hands, refusing to lift. “See?”

  “But can’t the hatch still close?” Isabeau climbed the ladder and grabbed hold of the hatch. “Oh. No, I see.”

  With the ladder extended, there was no way to close the hatch.

  “You think it will work? She won’t be able to fly the ship?”

  Ndlela shrugged. “I hope so. I think so.” He tried not to think of the alternative.

  Their plan would only work if there were fail-safes in place to check that the hatch was secure before the ship could launch. If there weren’t, the ship might just blast off with the hatch jammed open. Then he and Isabeau would die in the resulting decompression, as all the air rushed out of the control room through the open hatch.

  “And she couldn’t just fix it?” said Isabeau. “That thing you cut?”

  “She could fix it, probably, with enough time, and the right tools.” Ndlela pushed the toolbox back under the counter. “But I it trimmed it right back. It’s going to be a beast to fix. Fiddly.”

  “Oh.”

  Isabeau seemed disappointed. Ndlela guessed that she’d have preferred his fix to produce sparks and smoke, and possibly a small explosion. But his mind was on other things. His success in jamming the hatch had given him an idea.

  “Let’s see if I can fill that oxygen bottle of yours.”

 
For the next few minutes he tried to refill Isabeau’s oxygen bottle from the one on his suit, but after the third hissing accident, Isabeau made him stop.

  After that, there wasn’t much to do but wait.

  They’d both slumped into a sleepy doze when they were startled awake by the airlock buzzer. The light above the inner hatch went red.

  “It’s them!” said Isabeau, hope dawning in her face.

  “How do we know?” Ndlela struggled to his feet. “It might be her. It might be Missy Cloete.” He looked around the control room for something he could use as a weapon, cursing himself for not being more prepared.

  The outer hatch opened. A large bag was heaved into the airlock. Somebody stepped inside, and then the hatch closed and the pump hummed.

  “It’s her!” Isabeau backed up against the control panel. “It’s her, it’s her!”

  Ndlela tried to remember how long it took for the airlock to cycle. Was there some way they could bar the hatch? Or should they be trying to hide?

  He darted toward the toilet cubicle, and saw, to his horror, that Isabeau was halfway up the ladder to the pod-ship.

  “Isabeau no!” He grabbed her by the legs and tried to pull her down. He could only imagine what might happen if she went up there. Visions of Isabeau somehow launching the ship made his grip on her legs tighten.

  “Let me go! Let go!” Isabeau jerked in his arms and kicked him in the chest hard enough to loosen his grip on one of her legs.

  “Come down, Issy, we have to hide!”

  Fear gave him strength, and he dragged her all the way down the ladder. “Issy, you have to calm down!”

  The hiss of the inner hatch opening made both of them freeze.

  Missy Cloete was in the control room with them, pulling off her helmet. She looked at them, and then looked at the open hatch to the pod-ship above.

  “Funny,” she said softly. “I could swear I closed that last time I was here.”

  Isabeau and Ndlela backed as far from the ladder as they could, but they were still within her reach.

  They cowered behind the ladder, waiting for her to shout, or grab at them, but instead she simply hitched her bag higher on her shoulders. She gazed at them without any change in her expression. “Amazing.” She blinked and sniffed and wiped her wrist over her eyes.