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“HE’S LONELY.” LENA stared into the vast sparkling jet surface of space. Rowie had made a new viewing deck above the bridge, partly to make the assembly and monitoring of the new comms array easier. There was even a small airlock up there for com-techs and engineers, and a changing cubicle. Ash Cento had built a nest in the new space for the com-team. They’d even recruited an eager marine called Prof’ by his colleagues. In his off-hours he came to help monitoring, which Cento was pleased with as it took some of the strain off their growing department. The bubble on top of the ship had staggering views, Lena had spent a lot of time since its creation. Its elegant space and proportions were calming, and despite the appearance of being made of glass there was no sound echo from the walls, about which Cento was ecstatic. It was accessed from the bridge by an elegant double helix spiral staircase touching down in the centre of the bridge where the comms monolith of monitors had previously been. The helix unbraided halfway up and the stairways landed five metres from each other, forming a beautiful gothic arch when viewed from the doorway to the bridge.
“I thought you said Rowie was a she? Is she fluid?”
“No,” said Lena, “I wasn’t talking about Rowie.”
“Oh, who then?”
“The...one we’re going to see.”
“And here’s little me thinking we’re going to explore a long-lost colony, rescue survivors, ‘boldly go’ and all that.”
“Well yeah that too.”
“Where’s that bloody marine?” Cento stomped between one set of screens and another, tweaked a few knobs, fractiously put on a pair of headphones, frowned, then took them off again. “Don’t suppose you saw him on your way up here?”
“Sorry?” Lena had turned back to the panorama.
“Prof! Have you seen Prof this morning?”
“Oh, no, no sign of him,” Lena spoke at the window, hoping enough of her voice would bounce usefully behind her. “He wasn’t even at breakfast.”
“Not like a marine to miss their brekkie.” Cento picked up a different set of headphones, tested them with a loud beep in one port, then put them back on and tried a few more ports on the monolith of monitors. “Well after all that tarting about on the top of the ship there’s still just static.”
“There’s not,” said Lena.
“What?”
“It’s not just static. Rowie says listen harder.”
“Rowie can f—”
A clatter from the stairwell meant Cento was on their feet in an instant. The way Rowie had moulded the top of the stairs the treads petered out after deck level, but the central spine of the spiral continued to a curious metallic orb at the top. It mirrored the beautiful vista above but in miniature. It made Lena think of a snow globe her mother had bought her one Christmas. Beauty aside, the central pillar was essential as a bannister. If it hadn’t been there Cento would have descended quicker than they’d have wanted. Their deck shoes allowed them to save themselves on the lip of the hole. Cento and the captain had an ongoing war about the deck shoes. They were uniform black, but strictly speaking the dress code for on-ship was boots, or bats as the sailors insisted on calling them. This was one skirmish that Cento would win, as below them, the captain shouted up.
“You okay up there Cento?”
“Yeah, I thought I heard someone on the stairs, captain.”
“No, just you two up there. You need help up there?”
“We’re good thank you. Though any sign of my relief?”
“Your marine friend, no sign yet. Shall I get Lieutenant Fazar to look?”
“No, don’t bother him, it can wait.”
“Okay,” said the captain. “Brief me when you’ve finished up there.”
“Aye, aye.”
Lena went over to offer a hand to Cento, unleaning them from the central pillar till they found their own balance. “Fun, fun, fun,” they said and picked up the headphones again, rechecked and hung them back on the handle of a monitor. Cento spun round and picked up the headphones once more and waved them at Lena. “It’s no good. It’s just static. You listen. If the ship can’t or won’t talk to me, I need you to hear what I’m hearing.”
“I’ve listened to it,” said Lena.
“And?”
“It just sounds like static.”
“Gah! Listen again and tell me what Rowie says.”
She dutifully put the headphones on to avoid any more crankiness from Ash, closed her eyes and put her hands over her ears. It was as if Arohirohi was right inside her head. It was there, but she couldn’t quite grasp it. She could feel the rising frustration in the ship, “We’re trying Rowie, give us a break here!” Pressure built in Lena’s head, like a slow approaching but inevitable headache, physical pressure, but also a pressure of emotions. Not any one single distinct emotion, but more like the stubborn, angry howl of a toddler too tired to know why they were cross anymore. The squeezing of her temples grew and became sharper. She felt pain in her knees and then realised that it was from where her legs had buckled. She was so close to the edge of the stair hole that the quick reactions of Ash Cento at her elbow, gripping her arm and Pilot Lyn Lee sprinting up the stairs from the bridge saved her from a plummet.
“Easy there Tiger,” said Cento, “That’s one save each today.”
“You okay, Lena?” Lyn always had that odd Liverpudlian pronunciation. It sounded like her name had more Es when Lyn said it. It usually made her smile, but right now she was cross as hell.
“I’m fine!” Lena threw the headphones across the room, they made a plasticky-sounding crash against the wall. “I’m done here!” she yelled, stomped down the spiral and ran off down the corridor.
