Well, not much.
We look at the display on our vidscreen and see all around us the weirdness of a black hole nestling in warped space. This… thing used to be a Type C sun, until it supernovaed and reached critical mass. Gravitational forces pulled the sun in on itself until it shrunk to a point of almost infinite density. Now, this star is so massive that light itself cannot escape.
Jamie has researched all this; he’s a black hole nut. He actually gives them nicknames. (This one is the Cosmic Crusher.) Jamie is one of the band of thinkers who believe that each black hole is the gateway to another Universe. But there’s no way of proving that, because anyone or anything that passes through a black hole ends up, basically, squashed and dead.
With Brandon at the helm, we are now playing a game of chicken with the black hole. As our speed drops, our plan is to skim the surface of the gravity field, and slingshot ourselves out at our top speed once more into space. One slight miscalculation and we will be sucked into the gravity field and destroyed.
Fun, or what?
Close by the black hole is a cluster of neutron stars and mini-black holes locked in a synchronous orbit. These are the dreaded Black Rapids. The only way to proceed through this part of space is fast and skilfully. The complex pattern of gravitational pulls make this whole area of space a ripped and bleeding reef.
In we go: straight at the singularity, then tilting, tilting, the whole ship relativistically distorted, our huge mass makes us a dreadnought, we are extended to the size of a galaxy and yet at the same time we are a tiny plankton hurtling into the mouth of a whale, then attempting to creep out again.
Bish.
Bosh.
Whiish.
We are out again, on the other side of the Black Rapids. Safe.
On our screen we can see the pursuing warships on the wrong side of the Rapids slow, and then stop. A dozen of them peel away and choose to follow us through the Black Rapids. They are, I feel confident, not volunteers.
We watch as one of them is caught in a gravitational undertow. It surges through with a burst of energy and runs straight into a rock the size of a walnut, which contains a mini-singularity. The warship suddenly shakes, and flickers, then shatters into a million pieces.
A second warship tacks carefully away from the black hole, but is promptly sucked into a neutron star.
All twelve ships try, and fail, and die. Several of them attempt to emulate our slingshot method. It is a knack not easily acquired. They all get sucked into the black hole’s deadly embrace.
Whoosh. Gone. Crushed to nothingness or less.
We are safe.
I realise that for several hours, I have been hearing a buzzing sound in my ears. It is the alarm buzzer for the prisoner’s cell.
“Go and see what she wants,” I tell Harry. “I’m going to”
I’m asleep on my feet. Brandon catches me before I fall. He sits me down.
“I’ll just have,” I say, drowsily, “a little…”
Lena
Get me out of this fucking hellhole! AIIIEEEEEE! Aiiiiiieeeeeee! AIIEEEEEEE!!!!! I think the battle is over.
I’ve never been so afraid! I was afraid too. I was so scared. Thank God you were here Lena, watching it with me on the cctv. Hold me, please. Hug me. Protect me.
I can’t. Just be here for me. You are so wise. You comfort me.
Shitting pissing blasted… You’re smarter than they are. They fear you. They know your power. You have done so much. You have achieved so much.
My life’s a mess, I’m a loser. You are magnificent. You are unique. You are a jewel lost in a steaming heap of shit.
Oh great metaphor, tinbrain. The shit will be washed away. The jewel will shine. You will be restored to your place of eminence. You are marvellous. You are wonderful. You are sublime
I feel like crap, I look like crap. You are beautiful, you are sexy, men adore you, women envy you, I worship you, your son worships you…
The cell door opens. Harry looms in front of me. “Can it, okay? The buzzer is for if you’re dying, or having a baby. Use it again without good reason, I’ll cut all your fingers off so you have to feed through a straw.”
The door slams. I burst into tears. What a rotten bastard!
I can’t stop myself crying. The damnable freak! Trust me Lena, once we’re back on top, he’ll be the first to be sexually humiliated then killed.
My body is shuddering, the tears won’t stop. The voice in my head takes on a desperate tinge: You’re better than them. You’re marvellous. You’re wonderful. You’re sexy. They don’t understand your true power. You’re unique.
I can’t stop the tears. I cry, and cry. Jesus, cut the fucking crap Lena.
I stop dead. The tears mist my eyes, but at least I’m not crying. You total fucking loser, if you’re going to get us out of here, you’d better get your shit together!
Don’t speak to me like that. Imbecile! Loser! Wanker!
All right, all right, you’ve done your work, you’ve pressed my button. I’m back in focus. But if you speak to me like that again, I’ll reprogramme your arse tinbrain, okay? Whatever you say, Lena. I am here to serve.
Too damned right!
Lena
“Do you like it?” asks Flanagan.
It is a bleak, forbidding planet, with looming mountains and a ghastly yellow sky. We stand in a city made of tents, plain canvas awnings turned into a complex network of alleyways and boulevards. And we look out to acres of desert. Men ride horses in these parts, sleek stallions and mares derived from ancient Earth bloodstock foetuses.
“I admire it.”
“Flying is possible. Would you like to…?”
Every fibre in my being screams no. I could be killed, maimed, forced into yet another body replacement. And the pain, the pain…
“Yes,” I say. Calm, aloof, distant.
We are on the planet of Wild West. We have stopped here for rest and recreation, and to allow time for the ship’s computer to finish some necessary repairs. Flanagan has decided to treat me with an almost medieval courtesy and respect, as his sly way of making his kidnap of me seem morally acceptable. I refuse to accept his pathetic attempts to mollify me, of course. And yet…
Well, it’s nice to get out of the ship. And since I’m here, on this actually rather beautiful and appealing low- gravity planet with its famous thermal gusts, it seems a shame not to take advantage of the tourist attractions. “Flying is possible,” Flanagan had said. Flying! What a wonderful idea!
We walk through the city, past screaming street traders. I see a headless five-limbed hairy beast of burden, carrying timber on its back. The Rotan, from the stellar system XI4.
I see stalls selling monstrous beaked creatures in a cage. Kiwiris, the two beaks contain its brain, it eats by drooling enzymes. The beaks emit a beautiful song, and addicts of the song of the Kiwiri are known to die of malnutrition, so rapt are they.
