Do You Dream of Terra-Two?

When Fae asked them what happened Eliot told her that he had tripped and fallen against the mirror.

JESSE WOKE UP LATE the next morning and breakfast was almost over, the sound of chairs grinding against the floor as everyone left the kitchen to commence chores echoing up the corridor. There had been troubling news from NASA that night: the MMACS – the Mechanical, Maintenance, Arm and Crew Systems flight controller – had detected a problem on Orlando. Igor explained to them that they were worried there had been a hydrazine leak somewhere on the ship. Jesse saw the disappointment in everyone’s eyes when they heard that their rendezvous with the Orlando might be delayed by a few days.

After breakfast, Jesse headed to the infirmary to check on Eliot, and found him playing his guitar, leaning over the instrument, strumming softly and singing.

‘Hey.’

Eliot stopped mid-lyric and looked up, his mouth open, revealing his gappy teeth. ‘You,’ he said.

‘I came to check on you. To see if you’re all right and all.’

‘I’m all right.’ Eliot looked away. His hand was bandaged. Jesse had heard his cries of pain the previous night as Dr Golinsky picked glass from his flesh with tweezers. Jagged flaps of torn skin hung loosely from his knuckles in a way that made Jesse wince.

He came to sit beside Eliot on the gurney. ‘You’re pretty good,’ he said, glancing at the silver strings of his guitar.

‘I’m kind of rusty. Haven’t practised in a while.’ He tapped his fingertips with his thumb. ‘I can feel my fingers have gone all soft. Your callouses go if you don’t play for a while, but never completely.’ He dropped his plectrum on the bed beside him, and Jesse picked it up. A black piece of plastic the size of a coin with the Union Jack stamped on it.

‘It’s not really the same without her. Singing, I mean.’

‘Yeah, you and Ara were in a band together, right?’ Jesse vaguely recalled a school concert at Dalton where Eliot and his skinny friends covered a song by Muse, their greasy hair in their eyes. Ara had fronted the band in stonewashed jeans, her brown thighs shining through the ripped denim. She sang like a siren, her eyes closed the whole time.

‘They’re not going to let me fly this mission. I don’t think,’ Eliot said, looking away.

‘What do you mean?’ Jesse asked. Harry and Commander Sheppard were going to pilot the shuttle to Orlando, then bus the crew back to the Damocles. A journey Jesse knew Harry was looking forward to, because Sheppard was allowing him to lead. In the passenger seat would be Poppy – a UKSA/NASA joint mission was big news, and of course ground control wanted Poppy to cover it. Eliot had also been selected to travel with them as the engineer.

‘I’m not going. Ground control haven’t cleared me.’

‘Really?’ Jesse asked, surprised.

‘I’ve missed a couple of psych sessions.’

‘Why?’ Jesse had actually caught Eliot a few times hiding out in the engine room when he was supposed to meet with Fae.

‘I think there’s something wrong with me,’ Eliot said in a whisper. He ran the soft edge of his thumb along the thinnest string so it made a keening twang.

Jesse remembered what he had mentioned the night before, about seeing things.

‘Do you think…’ Eliot began, ‘do you think that maybe it’s possible there’s someone outside?’

‘Outside?’ Jesse frowned in confusion, then nodded at the black window. ‘You mean, out there?’

‘Yeah,’ said Eliot. ‘And maybe we don’t know about it.’

‘Eliot…’ Jesse wasn’t sure whether or not to laugh, ‘if there was someone out there, then they would be dead.’

‘Maybe they are. Or, like, drowning.’

‘I’m not sure what to say,’ said Jesse. ‘I think that’s impossible.’

They were silent for a moment. Through the gap in the door they could hear the busyness of the ship. Someone was replacing a valve, and Jesse could hear the hollow clang of metal rattle behind the wall. Juno or Astrid dictating numbers from a machine readout. Commander Sheppard’s voice, a comforting rumble in the distance.

‘Maybe this is something you should be talking to Fae about.’

Eliot snorted. ‘Forget I said anything.’

‘Okay, sorry.’ Jesse let his eyes wander for another moment. ‘Do you think this has something to do with—’

‘Ara?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Everyone thinks that everything has to do with her. That’s all everyone wants to talk about. Her and why she did it. That note. That horrible note that she left on my phone. That I’ll see until the day I die. And underneath it all I feel like…’ He looked down at his bandaged hand.

‘Like you can’t remember who you are anymore?’ Jesse asked.

Eliot nodded. ‘My life before I met Ara is a blur, I can’t remember, properly, who I even was or how I ever made myself happy. But then, my life with Ara was all about… Ara. I feel okay telling you this because it’s not as if you really knew her, like the others. They love her. We all do. Did. It hurts like hell, missing her. So much that I haven’t been able to focus much on the work I’m supposed to do with Igor lately. I haven’t even sketched up any ideas for an invention.