There was a human waste system that looked like a bidet filled with coarse sand. You sat down, did the business, a faint tickling – please, please not a scrabbling, not those insects from Cancri – and stood up, voided and clean, the sand as pristine as before. The AI suggested the sand was actually a life form, like a hive of intelligent silica, and to it Tatia was a god. That was when she decided the AI had a warped sense of humour. So did she.
At times she found herself crying for no apparent reason. Other than being on an alien craft going fuck knew where or what because she’d been obsessed like a silly teen. And even if it hadn’t been like that, even if it was part of a plot, a dance ancient before the Pyramids reared up from the sand, it was her decision, her own fault. Tatia sometimes felt as lonely as the rock Marc had once described... the one tumbling through space towards a destination forever moving further away. Listening to music, watching a vid or chatting to her AI helped.
* * *
Tatia had the run of the craft, with exceptions. Although if the force fields were turned off in space, she’d die outside the pod. But how long would she last inside before the air was exhausted? If the force fields were turned off in netherspace she might go mad. Madder than she already was. If she was. Tatia wasn’t quite sure. She seemed to be thinking about the same things over and over again, like survival and destiny.
So Tatia wandered around at will, although there wasn’t much to see. The craft’s deck and struts were made of a black substance that felt like hard rubber and smelt faintly of apricots. Some of the pods – made of a harder, shiny substance – were opaque, possibly living quarters for the three-globed aliens. Others were transparent, some storage judging by the containers, some filled with incomprehensible equipment. Whenever one of the three-globed Originators went inside, the walls became opaque. Tatia tried following but the alien blocked her way. She got angry. The alien moved off and the pod closed.
There were, Tatia thought, about seven triune aliens, although she only ever saw two at any one time. She had no way of knowing what was inside each metal globe. Could be a brain, a squirrel or something so hideous she’d run screaming.
They had their own personal anti-gravity. Tatia had expected to float when the craft was in normal or netherspace. In fact, she could walk around as on Earth, while the aliens floated. She couldn’t see how they propelled themselves, so assumed some sort of force field.
The atmosphere was also Earth-like although more oxygen rich, according to her AI. For Tatia the craft was like a very large, obscure piece of sculpture. She’d never been too interested in art, so any alien aesthetic was wasted on her. Every now and then one of the alien triunes would float towards her and stop. She’d stare at it until she was bored then walk away. The alien never followed. Once, when she was feeling depressed by the situation, a sudden spark of anger made an inquisitorial alien move hastily away. That was interesting. They could sense her emotions and be hurt? Scared? Damaged? She imagined having a hissy fit so violent the aliens would crash into each other like demented bolas. That had made her laugh and the alien came closer.
Which meant they were sensitive to her emotions. Interesting.
If she was to die out here, forever alone, the Originators would feel her pain.
* * *
Twenty-three point three Earth standard hours after Tatia had joined the Originator ship they came out of netherspace.
Tatia had been in her pod, chivvied there by three triune Originators, persistent more than violent, when something screeched like a nail dragged across rusty iron. The pod door closed but remained transparent, as did the walls. The force fields that formed the ship’s hull changed from dark blue to opaque and suddenly she was staring at a planet. A purple planet that filled her with foreboding. If this was the Originator homeworld, they were welcome to it.
The ship drifted slowly down and landed on a rocky outcrop surrounded by what might be plants. Or very slow-moving inhabitants. She felt the pod lift up and leave the ship, landing a few metres away. The door opened. For a moment Tatia panicked, thinking she’d be marooned.
< If they wanted you dead you would be.
> Aliens, who knows?
< These are top of the food chain. Not Gliese or Cancri. Assume they know, perhaps even understand a little about humans. Maybe this is an experiment. By the way: I’d like a name, please.
> Not ready for that yet. Later.
* * *
Tatia went outside into the breathable but thick and humid atmosphere. Vegetation like pink mouldering fungi under an angry purple sky. Background stink of sulphur and sewage. Tatia had never seen a sci-fi pulp magazine. To her the planet simply looked disgusting. The ground was squishy underfoot. Glancing down, she saw it was covered with a mass of tiny, squirming things. She noticed movement and froze as a shape moved towards her.
Strange how you could always recognise a weapon, no matter how weird the alien holding it.
This alien was a two-metre tall, oozing pile of semi-translucent green and yellow slime, with tentacles. No obvious
