Chasing Stars (36 page)

Another blast of something jolted our ship once again.

‘They’re targeting our portal drive,’ said Ryan. ‘We still need ten seconds for our portal to stabilise. Hold on.’

Ryan began tapping rapidly on the screen. A third jolt flung our ship sideways.

‘Amber alert,’ said the computer. ‘Danger of hull breach.’

‘Hold on,’ said Ryan.

He spun the ship in a three hundred and sixty degrees roll. My stomach leapt into my throat and a shiver of nausea rippled through me.

‘Portal stabilised,’ said the computer.

That now-familiar sense of moving backwards gripped my stomach. I held my breath until the blackness outside the window formed a tunnel shape with a bright yellowish hue at the far end. We began to race through the tunnel.

‘We’re going to Titan first,’ said Ryan. ‘Let them think that’s where we’re headed. Just before we arrive, I’m going to set new coordinates.’

‘You’re going to create a portal from within a portal?’ I asked.

‘It’s going to be OK. Trust me. We’re going somewhere no one goes. Somewhere no one knows about. The portal will hold.’

Ryan started tapping in a new set of coordinates. The yellow moon curved off to one side.

‘I’ve set up the new portal,’ said Ryan. ‘We’d better release our passenger. It will look like we had to do an emergency eject.’

The ship jolted forwards as the escape pod was released.

‘Get ready for portal number two,’ said Ryan.

Another narrower, blacker tunnel emerged within the first one. A faint blue glow shone through it. Ryan flew straight towards its narrow entrance. Curved around the outside of the larger tunnel, I could still see the spaceport, the yellow hue of Titan, and the frisbee-shaped rings of Saturn. Ahead, growing rapidly brighter, our destination glowed blue.

‘They’ll probably think our portal collapsed,’ said Ryan. His eyes were glued to the screen in front of him. ‘All they’ll be able to find is one of the escape pods. With a bit of luck they’ll assume we were in the other one and didn’t make it.’ He almost laughed. ‘No one is crazy enough to portal into the unknown.’

We entered the smaller tunnel. The Inter-Planetary space­port had now disappeared. Titan and Saturn were still within view, but elongated and distorted into thin sausage shapes. Other moons were alongside them, but I had no names for them.

‘Ten seconds,’ said Ryan.

Titan disappeared. Then Saturn.

‘Three,’ said Ryan. ‘Two. One.’

The tunnel vanished. In our window were two moons, one larger than the other, but both white and pockmarked just like Earth’s moon. Ryan eased the controller to the right until a planet, a blue-green and white, Earth-like planet, floated in the velvet darkness in front of us.

‘Welcome to Eden,’ he said.

Twilight was rapid. First, the halo of light over the planet turned copper, then it deepened to scarlet. Seconds later it had gone and we were plunged into darkness. There were no artificial lights on the planet’s surface to show the shape of the continents. It was as though there was nothing but this ship and the eternal blackness of space.

Ryan had put us in a stable orbit above Eden, from where we saw the three suns rise and set every ninety minutes. He explained that trace signatures of our portal could be discovered for up to an hour after we’d closed it. Five hours later he was still scanning the space around us for incoming ships.

‘No one knows we’re here,’ I said, unstrapping my seatbelt. The cockpit was cramped and my muscles felt tight. ‘It’s been hours. You said yourself they probably think our portal collapsed.’

‘But what if they did catch a trace of our destination? I’d have risked everything just to save myself.’

‘But they didn’t.’

‘I shouldn’t have brought us here. I panicked.’

‘Of course you panicked. You were under fire,’ I said, standing up. ‘But no one has followed you. And no one will because no one else knows this place exists. No one except Cassie, Ben and your dad. But they’re not going to risk telling anyone about this planet. They know the consequences.’

‘Let me run one last scan,’ he said, dragging an icon across the control panel.

‘Fine. I’ll give you ten minutes. And then I want you to come out into the lounge area with me.’

I left him frowning at the control panel and went to explore the rest of the ship. There were a couple of rows of airline-style seating just behind the cockpit, and then the body of the ship opened out into a lounge area with white leather couches, a bar and a massive window. Right at the back of the ship was a small galley with a fridge and an oven. I opened the fridge and squatted down to look inside. There were a number of pre-packed meals that had pro­b­ably been brought on board to feed the admiral and the journalists on the trip to the moon. I counted them. Forty-four. I opened cupboards and pulled open drawers, locating plates and utensils, condiments and napkins. We wouldn’t go hungry for a few days.

Next I located the bathroom – an airline-style toilet and sink – and unzipped my bulky orange flight suit. I assumed that we were safe now we were in orbit. In any case, Ryan wasn’t wearing one so if anything happened to the ship, there would be no one left to rescue me. I’d prefer to die quickly if death was inevitable. I dressed in my green cotton kitchen tunic and adjusted my hair in the mirror.

When I got back into the main cabin, Ryan was standing at the bar, untwisting the wire top of a bottle of champagne. He smiled, but his eyes looked tired and the prison clothes he wore were hanging off him.

‘Nice outfit,’ I said.

‘You too.’

I looked down at the frumpy tunic I was wearing and laughed.

‘I never thought I’d see Eden again,’ he said, his thumbs pushing out the cork. ‘Not the planet and not you. I can’t quite believe we’re here.’

‘Nor me.’

He poured the champagne into two crystal glasses. The bubbles caught the light and twinkled like stars.

‘A toast,’ he said, passing one of the glasses to me. ‘To Eden.’

I wasn’t sure whether he was referring to me or the planet, but I tipped the glass against my lips and bubbles shot up my nose.

‘If it wasn’t for this planet, we wouldn’t be here,’ I said. ‘You’d never have travelled back to 2012 to stop it being discovered. I’d never have met you.’

‘I always wanted you to see the planet that was named after you.’

‘I’d love to land on the surface. See it up close.’

‘We could do that.’

‘What about the parasite?’

‘We’d have to stay away from the infected continents. But we could visit one of the small desert lands; it’s safe there.’

I wanted to do that so much. Space scared me – the endlessness of it.

‘What about where you lived when you were a boy? Can we see that?’

He shrugged. ‘Sure. We can do anything. But if we went there, we’d have to stay on Eden for ever. That’s where the parasite lives. We’d never be able to return to Earth.’

‘What do you think we should do?’

‘Dance,’ he said. ‘I think we should dance. Everything else can wait.’

He put his glass on the table and went over to a small com-screen. Seconds later, music began playing softly.

‘Come here,’ he said. He took my hand and led me towards the window. ‘Lights off.’

The inside of the ship was thrust into a darkness so intense, even the outlines of furniture were invisible. I stepped forward, lost my balance and fell against Ryan.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said.

‘Don’t be.’ His hands wrapped around my waist and pulled me close to him.

There was nothing but blackness and starlight. Through the window, the ship turned in its orbit, and then we were dancing, chasing stars across the sky.

Epilogue

The Southern Desert of Eden,
three days later

‘I promise it’s worth it,’ he says.

I nod; my mouth is too dry to waste words. We’ve been walking across the desert for about an hour by now, only it’s not like the endless sand in the deserts of my imagination. Here the desert is bare, brittle rock. Thin sliver of rock upon thin sliver of rock. It snaps and splinters underfoot, like walking across thin ice. I peel my shirt from my damp skin and squint against the bright sunlight, wishing I had sunglasses or sunscreen. Or both.

And then, abruptly, the rock turns to sand. We turn a corner and I see why. We’ve reached the ocean; its surface is like blue silk.

‘It’s so still,’ I say, as I unscrew the lid of my water bottle. The water inside is hot and offers almost no refreshment.

‘Perfect for swimming.’

‘We’re going to swim?’ I say, looking down at my kitchen tunic. I’ve cut off the sleeves, but they’re still kind of heavy to swim in. Beneath, I have nothing but the set of underwear I’ve washed overnight every day for the past three days.

‘Yes, we’re going to swim. There’s something I want to show you.’

He pulls his green prison shirt over his head and I’m glad to see that he’s already filling out again, that the sunlight is washing away the grey pallor that comes with being locked inside for three weeks.

‘So you know this place?’

‘Dad used to bring us here every year for a vacation,’ says Ryan.

I peel off my tunic, feeling the sun leaching the moisture from my skin.

‘It was different then of course. Not as mind-blowing as this.’ He sweeps his arm, encompassing everything in its arc: the spires and towers of pink sandstone that rise like petrified trees from the ground; the flat expanse of ocean ahead of us; the vastness of blue sky above.

‘How was it different?’

‘Well, there was a huge hotel at the top of the bluff behind us,’ he says, turning back and pointing at the stone cliff. ‘A thousand suites. Eight restaurants. Three swimming pools. Utter luxury.’ He looks at me. ‘Water piped in from the oasis, seventy kilometres away. A big white blemish on the landscape. And then down here on the beach there were hundreds of loungers for sunbathing and moon watching. Stalls selling cold drinks and snacks. You could rent all-terrain vehicles to go and destroy the desert. They took an unspoilt paradise and turned it into a beach resort just like everywhere else. It was pointless.’

I wouldn’t mind a beach shack selling cold drinks and snacks right now, but I get what he’s saying.

We’re walking across the hot sand to the water’s edge when something occurs to me. ‘How could your dad bring you here to a hotel when you were a child, when that hotel never existed?’

Ryan shakes his head rapidly, like a dog shaking off water. ‘I still have memories from the original timeline. But I have new memories too. Like, I remember spending my childhood on Eden, but I also remember spending it on Earth.’

‘So it’s like you’re two people?

‘Sort of. I’ve had two different sets of experiences, but those different lives are beginning to converge.’ He dips his foot in the sea, sending ripples through the still water. ‘I wish I could explain convergence theory to you, but it’s a really tricky concept.’

‘Are you saying I’m not smart enough to understand it?’

He shakes his head, laughing. ‘I’m saying
I’m
not smart enough to understand it. It messes with your head. Come on – let’s swim.’

The water is much warmer than the sea at home in Penpol Cove or the icy lake water in the mountains of Lakeborough. It coaxes you in, slips over your skin, relaxes your muscles. I lie on my back, letting it hold me, watching the sky turn bluer.

‘We’re gonna swim over to the rocks,’ he says.

He swims ahead of me, his arms and legs streamlined, his movements clean, unlike my splashy attempt at front crawl. He waits for me by the rocky headland, reaching out for my hand.

‘Follow me under the water,’ he says, ‘and open your eyes.’

Maybe the sea is less salty on Eden, because it doesn’t sting my eyes at all. The sunlight reaches deep below the surface, giving the underwater world its colours. The pink rock of the desert is a deeper rose down here, the weeds that sprout within its cracks as green as English grass. But it’s the fish that are most captivating. There are blue and yellow stripy fish, no bigger than goldfish. Black and orange fish the size of small sharks. Fish every colour of the rainbow, darting in and out of the rocks.

I surface for air. Ryan shoots up next to me.

‘Are they . . .’ I begin.

‘All safe,’ says Ryan. ‘Nothing predatory here.’

We stay in the water for what feels like hours, swimming through arches of pink rock, around spires that point up from the ocean bed like wrinkled fingers. We spot hundreds of different fish, weird turtle-like creatures with large curious eyes, fat black animals that look something like a cross between a dolphin and a cat. By the time we decide to head back to camp, my skin is puckered and white and the suns are low on the horizon.

Back at camp, Ryan heads into the ship to sort out something to eat while I finish building a fire with the small pile of dead leaves and twigs I’ve managed to scavenge. There’s not a hell of a lot to burn out here in the desert. Once I’ve got the fire in a rough pyramid shape, I strike a match to the dry grass and leaves at the base. It crackles and spits, quickly catching the small twigs. Smoke coils upwards into the empty sky, smudging its clear blue with grey.