Sixteen - The Spider's Tail
Mordy found himself in a clearing,the noon sky cloudless above, the fine, grassy blades soft below. Helay down in the warmth and closed his eyes. He had wandered for hoursthrough the thick, unyielding jungle. It gave the impression of beingfar larger than possible, stretching farther and deeper than the seashould allow, its twisting vines and creepers wound back onthemselves, a net in which all was suspended, that nothing escaped.
He'd lost the wrist-radio. No wayof contacting his father without it, he knew, caring little,interested more in locating Droover, the woman, his key on her arm,her thimble's abrasions on his flesh. And his father's hat...
The ocean receded from histhinking much as it did from his inward-coiling path. The waterbelonged to another plane now, an alternate Earth, a past existence.Mordy felt he might spend the remainder of his living hours beneaththe twin canopies of sky and tree.
He slept for a while. When he wokethe shadows were all round him, tugging his own. He got to his feetand turned full circle, wondering which unseen track to take. Themoon hung gibbous and large, appeared strangely close. He shruggedand continued in the direction he was facing, shaking hands with anoutreaching limb, eager not to upset or embarrass his woodland hosts.
He walked into the swelling night.It received him kindly, offered him clues to the whereabouts of hisintended. Droover's thread was a filament in the dark, the spunconductor of an eight-legged star.
Mordy grasped its ninth appendagedelicately, careful not to break it...
Seventeen - The Occupants
Morgan pressed the button and thelight winked off. He spun in his chair before the glitzy console,whistling, tuneless, the tight air squeezing his sound, killing it.
Frozen Hound peered over hisshoulder and yawned. Morgan stroked the dog's wet nose.
The minutes sidled past.
Fourteen. Fifteen, and the lightcame back on. Morgan, known as Lumping Jack, frowned.
‘Something not right,’ hesaid.
The dog paced in circles, tailbetween legs.
The console died, echoing theengines, the ship's drive not only cut but paralysed.
The HappyMonkey,Morgan's guppy, wound down its vacuous spiral to rest...
‘Permissionto come aboard.’
‘Permission denied.’
‘I have awarrant for the arrest of Dr Henry Grey.’
‘On what charge?’
Pause. Then,‘Murder.’
Lumping Jack glanced at Henry, whoscratched his beard, a look of disappointment etched on his face.They wouldn't be making the trip to Radio after all.
‘You have five minutes beforewe force an entry.’
‘There is no Dr Grey here,’replied Morgan, buying time. He could feel the inadequacy of thesupposition; it trickled down his spine, mimicked the guppy'sapprehension.
‘Oneminute,’the voice amended. ‘Andcounting.’
Kate shook her head in an effortto clear it and ran into the black corridor, its walls undetectable,its floor slick with condensation.
Someone caught her arm and yankedher through a jagged rent, the cooling teeth of which tore the skinof her upper arm and shoulder.
‘Slow down!’ came the order.
‘What's going on?’
‘Quiet...listen.’
Kate freed her arm and stood.After a moment she thought to hear dripping - water or blood. ‘Whatis it? Stylo? Mordy?’ She fumbled in the uncompromising dark butwas alone.
The dripping stopped. As if a taphad been more firmly closed, she told herself, and shivered.
Her eyesstrained, seeking a focus. In front of her was an opening, itsviolent nature silhouetted against the backdrop of stars, itsposition immediately to the left of a just visible fascia, panels andkeys, buttons and screens dead. Kate at first imagined herself insidea control-room of sorts, a relic of the island's making. She quicklydismissed the idea, recognizing the jumbled paraphernalia of a bridge- a ship's fractured, rusting skeleton into which she’d...stumbled?
Morgan decided to make a run forit. ‘They'll want you alive,’ he reasoned.
Henry was silent. There was afatalistic glint in his eyes, a yearning for simpler days.
Lumping Jack though, was not aboutto give in. There was too much at stake.
Frozen Hound switched herself off.One of the dog's ears stood erect and Morgan blew in it, folding theextraordinary animal in on itself, hiding it in a space that was nospace, a universe that didn't exist...
There was a chance, he knew, ofbypassing the stranglehold on the engines.
And that was enough.
*
He'd happened upon the wreck quiteaccidentally. Blind to his surroundings, Mordy had wandered into adense aisle of trees, their sweating coolness making the ground slickunderfoot, the air tangy. A bird flew out of nowhere, startling him,and then his boot struck metal.
Even in the dark he could see thehull was badly corroded. A faint aura of displacement lingered aboutthe wreck, which had met its end, he supposed, far overhead, crashingto earth, here digging its own crude grave. The forest had sincegrown around it, concealing the spot.
He wondered at its crew, itspilot. Gingerly he lowered himself inside.
It smelled of other worlds.
He wished it could fly, take himaway. He discovered a bent chair and sat in it, picturing itsprevious occupants, their calculated deaths...
‘I know it soundsold-fashioned,’ he said eventually, ‘but I'd really like to seeyou again.’
‘You will.’
He looked surprised. ‘How? When?I don't know anything about you. Where do you come from? How long areyou staying?’
‘I have no past,’ she saidabruptly. ‘Just a present, maybe a future.’
Mordy was incredulous. ‘You knowhow old I am? Twenty-six! I design interiors, which I loathe. There'snothing I'd like more
than simply to pack up, go away,forget my life - become like you, Droover. A person without apast...’
She swallowed,danced in her chair. ‘What's stopping you?’
‘You can't be serious; I'vecommitments.’
‘Break them.’
And he did. And there she was.