Intelligence the same. The copying, creation is chaotic.
Boojums are flawed emotions, flawed intelligence that can amalgamate.
Even with the alien ones. Scary monsters.
But not if I keep hidden. Not if netherspace loves me, yay yay yay.
Get a fucking grip, Keislack!
There was a Scottish entity that somehow showed me how to hide from boojums. Because there is something I must do/see/ experience and I don’t know what or why. I will be the mouse behind the wall and nothing will notice me.
It begins as a faint glow. Maybe the hint of a glow. The promise of one. Far away, an infinity away but also close by. No distance in netherspace, remember? And it is, will be so very beautiful. And it calls to him, as if they share the same beating heart, and in that moment Marc is possessed and embraces his destiny.
Even as he senses boojums closing around him, big ones, bad ones, human/alien hybrids impossible to understand but all wanting his intelligence, his emotions, psychic vampires, because the joy of possession has caused the walls to crumble. The mouse crouches in the open and the cats have sharp teeth and claws.
I’m going to die. Unless...
It felt as if netherspace itself had somehow enfolded him. Warm, safe.
A sense of movement. Then cold. Loss. Despair.
Now he lay on something soft. He thought of a bed and burrowing beneath the covers on a cold winter night. He felt safe... and still connected to netherspace and the magnificence.
Marc opened his eyes and saw Kara Jones. “So where the hell are we?”
7
Wild SUT Merry Christmas, present day.
Sometimes I wonder if it’s all worth it.
And maybe, thought Kara, maybe I should have asked the question long ago.
* * *
Marc’s eyes were now only slightly coloured by netherspace. He said it had been weird, it was great to see her and he was hungry.
She said he needed a shower first and found him some clothes: loose trousers, a T-shirt and on-board slippers.
“What the hell is this?” he said, staring at the piece of wood.
“I gave it you,” Kara said. “Before you went into netherspace. Lucky charm.”
“Oh,” he said with some distaste, “well, it cut my hand. You want it back?”
“It was your link back home.” Kara was more annoyed than hurt.
“You think?”
“We found you in Jeff’s wine cellar. Naked. Comatose.”
He nodded. “I remember...”
“Then how the hell did you get there? What happened in netherspace?”
How to describe the indescribable? There were no words to prevent him sounding like a babbling fool. Or was that just an excuse? Marc realised that he didn’t want to share. It was too personal. He and Kara were too unalike. Not even a genuine friendship and the artificial, psychic intimacy imposed by alien technology could bridge such an extreme experience gap. They were best friends in – hopefully, temporary – thrall to each other. It wasn’t enough.
“I need time to process,” he said. “But it was like seeing everything that had been, that is and will be all at the same time. Except there isn’t any. Time.”
“You didn’t go mad.”
He grinned. “You say that now.” He thought about it. “That entity I met in Scotland made it possible...”
“Changed you?”
“Maybe.” He saw he was still holding Kara’s keepsake and tossed it back to her. “Thanks for the thought but I’m not sure it did the job.”
She caught her talisman and put it safe in a pocket. “You’re here.”
“Was there,” he corrected. “Jeff’s wine cellar. Not with you.”
She could have said yes, but I found you. She didn’t because he had a point. And was also signalling that their relationship would never be as special as they’d possibly hoped. Kara breathed a mental sigh of relief.
“Talking of Jeff. Very bad news. I’m sorry.”
He stared at her for a moment. “How?”
“All hell’s broken out back on Earth. You need to know.”
* * *
They went to the crew room where he devoured a bowl of beef stew, his favourite, as she brought him up to date. At the end he sat in silence for a while then said he needed that shower and a nap and that they’d talk later.
Kara decided Marc was still somewhere else... or missing something else. Best he should sleep it off, like a man who’s been crazy drunk for a month. Also best to treat him as an unknown quantity. He’d changed, that much was obvious. Had he also been corrupted by a precog view of the universe?
> Salome?
<< Kara? >You recognise me as commander of this mission?
<< And a very excellent one...
> No bullshit. Yes or no?
>> Yes.
> Marc Keislack is not allowed to access any system that affects the SUT’s performance, the security of this mission or my personal safety. He is not allowed to access netherspace. Understood?
<< Treat a possible saviour of Earth as a possible enemy. Got it.
* * *
Marc wasn’t too netherspaced to ask the obvious question.
“How do we find Tatia?”
“We begin with the Gliese homeworld.”
“As in pick up her trail?” He didn’t try to hide the sarcasm... then saw the expression in Kara’s eyes and apologised. “Sorry. It seems a bit thin.”
“It all does. Maybe you’ll find a trail in netherspace. Maybe there’ll be another clue. But that’s where it starts.”
Marc made an okay face. “You’re the boss. I’m back to bed.”
* * *
Kara went to explore the SUT.
Four small cabins, simple but sleek design. Spare clothes in all. She’d bet that Marc, Tatia – oh love, where are you? – and herself would find a perfect fit. Each cabin en suite with shower, toilet and bidet.
Bidet? Really?
<< For sure, Salome breathed into Kara’s consciousness. Wilders are clean.
> So who said you could come into my head whenever?
< She knows everything you think, Ishmael butted in. < Why not?
> Only one at a time, though. Two voices in her head were making her dizzy.
One cabin had a hologram of a magnolia branch heavy with blossom. So perfect she’d swear it was real.
> How did you know?
Magnolia was her
