Read Online Starship Home by Tony Morphett - Free Book Online Page B

enough sleep in the past three days and was feeling scratchy.
    ‘I’m sorry. If the rules of the game are that it’s human, then of course it’s human. I do beg its pardon.’
    There was laughter on the bridge, silvery, rippling laughter. It was the starship. ‘I accept thy words. But not thy vinegar look. Staying we die. Going we may live. To your couches all. Let us try the River of Time, and see if we may win through.’
    The damaged starship was moving against the stars.
    Slowly at first, and then accelerating.
    On the bridge, Guinevere’s voice began singing. ‘Art thou going to Scarborough Fair? Parsley sage rosemary and thyme…’
    And Zachary’s voice came in. ‘Remember me to one who lives there…’ And between the lines, he said ‘See, kid? The song’s still around.’
    There was laughter in Guinevere’s voice now, as they sang in harmony. ‘She was once a true love of mine.’
    The ship was moving. The stars were streaming past her.
    ‘Tell her to make me a cambric shirt,
    ‘Parsley sage rosemary and thyme.
    ‘Without any seam or needlework,
    ‘She was once a true love of mine.
    ‘Tell her to wash it in yonder well,
    ‘Parsley sage rosemary and thyme.
    ‘Where never spring water nor rain ever fell.
    ‘She was once a true love of mine.’
    All was blurring. Their voices seemed to stretch together.
    ‘Tell her to dry it on yonder thorn,
    ‘Parsley sage rosemary and thyme.
    ‘Where never was blossom since Adam was born
    ‘She was once a…’
    There was pounding in their temples, a flash of light in their eyes, and their stomachs felt as if they were falling down an elevator shaft.
    The alien constellations blazed out.
    But there was no starship there.
    Guinevere had moved with her crew into the River of Time, had vanished as if she had never been there at all.

17: LEAP INTO SILENCE
    It seemed to last longer this time. It seemed to stretch forever. The pounding in their temples drowned out everything except a far sound which they each, finally, in the agony of the Leap, realized was the blending of their five voices screaming.
    For the ship herself screamed. It had never been like this. In her strength she had leapt through space and time, light as swansdown, soared like a skylark, sung her way through the folds and interstices of Time, swum like a dolphin in its river and leapt clear into blazing starlight once more. This time was like walking on old slow feet across redhot coals.
    She was with them, her people, with them on the screen, and the screen showed the agony that tore at her mind. She saw the faces of her people stretch and contort as they howled in agony and then…
    They were out. It was finished.
    They lay sobbing on their couches, their faces pale as morning ashes. They tried to find breath, and then gave up the attempt. They lay panting.
    The Wyzen was concerned for them. The Wyzen was not touched by the Leap in the way humans were, perhaps because her brain was small, and specialized for empathy and for the sensory perceptions that her kind used in hunting for fruit in the forests of their native planet.
    The Wyzen lived to eat and to empathize with the emotions of sentient beings. The Leap itself did not touch her, but the pain of the people on the starship did. Now she sat alongside Zoe, licking her face, trying to bring her back to full consciousness.
    ‘Thank you Wyzen, that’ll be fine now,’ Zoe moaned, gently pushing the Wyzen away.
    The Wyzen hopped down and moved to Zachary and pushed her whiskery face lovingly into his. ‘This is no time to get amorous, Meg, the kids are watching,’ Zachary said.
    ‘You’ll keep,’ moaned Meg.
    ‘Never have I had such a crossing as that. Yon Leap hath damaged me full sore.’
    Zachary had never felt this bad. There was one morning after a night in a pearling lugger between Australia and New Guinea, a night which had involved a near-lethal mixture of overproof rum and kava, but even that had not been this bad. ‘At least