Singh,’ Captain Anastasia said. ‘Mr Sharkey, a rebel tune, if you will. Rouse us – all that carbohydrate has made us lethargic.’
Sharkey got to his feet. His eyes bulged. His face went grey. He reached for the edge of the table to steady himself. He swallowed hard, trying not to throw up. His face contorted, he bent double, stabbed by stomach pain.
‘Permission … to be … excused, ma’am,’ he said and ran out of the galley.
‘Mr Mchynlyth, maybe one of those pibrochs now,’ Captain Anastasia said. ‘And play it loud.’
Mchynlyth indeed played loud, but it was still not enough to mask the groans and retching and other more liquid noises from the ship’s jax. Sharkey returned pale and sweating. Everett tried not to giggle.
‘Both ends,’ he said. ‘“The morsel which thou hast eaten shalt thou vomit up, and lose thy sweet words,” Proverbs 23:8. Meat is definitely off the menu.’
*
Everett woke in his latty; eyes wide, every sense electric, his body alert and awake and ready for activity. Pitch blackness. He looked at his clock. Seven thirty – half an hour later than his usual waking time. The day on this flat world was six hours longer than on the round worlds. The sun would not rise for another two and a half hours.
Diskworld
, he thought, and giggled in his hammock at the joke. Everett was a big Terry Pratchett fan. His dad had hovered impatiently, waiting for Everett to finish each book so he could pounce and snatch it, whisk it away into his study and read it in a single evening, giggling away. No one else on the ship would get the joke. That was all right. It was a thing between Everett and Tejendra. Wherever he was, out there among the worlds.
He had been almost sick with relief when he found outthat the corpse in the forest had not been his Dad. He had been both glad and sad that it had been ’Appening Ed, someone he had seen, almost known. Disappointed but hopeful, because the search would have to go on. Scared and tired, because stumbling into what was left of ’Appening Ed had reminded Everett that there was no guarantee that his dad was alive. Lying in his hammock in the creaking dark, Everett saw his dad vanish, taken out of the universe by Charlotte Villiers’s jumpgun. The last thing he remembered was the look of surprise.
He saw that other Tejendra Singh from Earth 1, who had lost everything he had ever loved to the Nahn. He saw the look on his face as the Nahn took him, a few short steps from the top of the Imperial College bell tower and safety. Peace.
He saw his mum, that day that seemed so long ago but was only just over a month, when he had gone out to school, but taken that other turn that led him to Charlotte Villiers and the Heisenberg Gate, and all the worlds beyond it. That tired but strong smile.
Take care, love
.
He saw his face, that was not his face, but the face of his alter, that other Everett Singh, that Charlotte Villiers had taken and twisted into the opposite of him. He saw him in the snow and the evening light at the gate of Abney Park Cemetery, looking straight at Everett as the weapons unfolded from his arms. But worse was what he saw in his imagination: his mum, giving that same ‘
Take care, love
’strong-but-tired smile to anti-Everett, as he set off to Bourne Green. He saw the anti-Everett turn and return the smile, not to his mum, to him, Everett. It said,
Are you so sure you’re the hero here?
Everett leaped out of his hammock. He stood panting. Sleep was impossible now. He pulled on clothes and went out into the corridors and walkways of
Everness
, lit soft ghostly green by emergency lighting. Noises and groaning from the jax. Sharkey was still suffering. Everett took the staircase up to the High Mess. The beautiful room had been wrecked by the crash. Windows were smashed in, shipskin ripped by branches. The great Divano table had been overturned.
A patch of light focused on a torn section of hull, then rose up and turned on Everett.
Sharkey got to his feet. His eyes bulged. His face went grey. He reached for the edge of the table to steady himself. He swallowed hard, trying not to throw up. His face contorted, he bent double, stabbed by stomach pain.
‘Permission … to be … excused, ma’am,’ he said and ran out of the galley.
‘Mr Mchynlyth, maybe one of those pibrochs now,’ Captain Anastasia said. ‘And play it loud.’
Mchynlyth indeed played loud, but it was still not enough to mask the groans and retching and other more liquid noises from the ship’s jax. Sharkey returned pale and sweating. Everett tried not to giggle.
‘Both ends,’ he said. ‘“The morsel which thou hast eaten shalt thou vomit up, and lose thy sweet words,” Proverbs 23:8. Meat is definitely off the menu.’
*
Everett woke in his latty; eyes wide, every sense electric, his body alert and awake and ready for activity. Pitch blackness. He looked at his clock. Seven thirty – half an hour later than his usual waking time. The day on this flat world was six hours longer than on the round worlds. The sun would not rise for another two and a half hours.
Diskworld
, he thought, and giggled in his hammock at the joke. Everett was a big Terry Pratchett fan. His dad had hovered impatiently, waiting for Everett to finish each book so he could pounce and snatch it, whisk it away into his study and read it in a single evening, giggling away. No one else on the ship would get the joke. That was all right. It was a thing between Everett and Tejendra. Wherever he was, out there among the worlds.
He had been almost sick with relief when he found outthat the corpse in the forest had not been his Dad. He had been both glad and sad that it had been ’Appening Ed, someone he had seen, almost known. Disappointed but hopeful, because the search would have to go on. Scared and tired, because stumbling into what was left of ’Appening Ed had reminded Everett that there was no guarantee that his dad was alive. Lying in his hammock in the creaking dark, Everett saw his dad vanish, taken out of the universe by Charlotte Villiers’s jumpgun. The last thing he remembered was the look of surprise.
He saw that other Tejendra Singh from Earth 1, who had lost everything he had ever loved to the Nahn. He saw the look on his face as the Nahn took him, a few short steps from the top of the Imperial College bell tower and safety. Peace.
He saw his mum, that day that seemed so long ago but was only just over a month, when he had gone out to school, but taken that other turn that led him to Charlotte Villiers and the Heisenberg Gate, and all the worlds beyond it. That tired but strong smile.
Take care, love
.
He saw his face, that was not his face, but the face of his alter, that other Everett Singh, that Charlotte Villiers had taken and twisted into the opposite of him. He saw him in the snow and the evening light at the gate of Abney Park Cemetery, looking straight at Everett as the weapons unfolded from his arms. But worse was what he saw in his imagination: his mum, giving that same ‘
Take care, love
’strong-but-tired smile to anti-Everett, as he set off to Bourne Green. He saw the anti-Everett turn and return the smile, not to his mum, to him, Everett. It said,
Are you so sure you’re the hero here?
Everett leaped out of his hammock. He stood panting. Sleep was impossible now. He pulled on clothes and went out into the corridors and walkways of
Everness
, lit soft ghostly green by emergency lighting. Noises and groaning from the jax. Sharkey was still suffering. Everett took the staircase up to the High Mess. The beautiful room had been wrecked by the crash. Windows were smashed in, shipskin ripped by branches. The great Divano table had been overturned.
A patch of light focused on a torn section of hull, then rose up and turned on Everett.
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