Do You Dream of Terra-Two?

THE LONELINESS WAS BEGINNING to sting. It was the end of June, and after seven weeks on the Damocles, the elation of the launch had finally evaporated for Jesse. The flurry of emails, well-wishes and congratulations from friends and family members on Earth had subsided and Jesse’s life on the ship had naturally settled into the ebb and flow of their routine. Waking up to Commander Sheppard’s recording of Coltrane’s Interstellar Space, queuing for the bathroom, breakfast, which happened quickly, everyone rushing about the kitchen reading the news on their tablets and squabbling over the coffee machine before they settled down for morning briefing. Then they’d disperse into their different areas of the ship to attend to their own chores and tutorials. During the week, that meant that Jesse was alone for three hours in the greenhouse, weeding and fertilizing, logging notes on the ship’s computer using an arcane system of Cai’s devising or reading about the biochemistry behind hydroponics. After lunch, there were medical checks and their group lessons, then dinner. Whole days sometimes went by without anyone speaking to him directly. The semi-playful banter between the seniors and the Beta never included him, and sometimes he walked past the five other junior astronauts in the crew module, huddled up on one of the sofas watching a movie, Harry’s hand buried in Poppy’s hair, Juno’s head on Astrid’s lap, Eliot nearby, all of them enjoying the cosy comfort of friendship. If they didn’t fall completely silent when Jesse approached, then they lowered their gaze or greeted him with brittle formality. ‘They’re still grieving over Ara,’ Fae had explained to him during one of their counselling sessions. ‘They’ll warm up to you.’ But almost two months into their journey, Jesse became less and less hopeful.

That weekend, he somehow managed to sleep through the ecstatic tenor saxophone solos of ‘Mars’ and ‘Venus’ that burst through the speakers every morning, and by the time he trudged into the kitchen, breakfast was over. Poppy was watching a comedy on her laptop, the canned laughter ringing obnoxiously even through her headphones. Juno was absorbed in some task that involved poring over notes she had made during the previous day’s lesson. They didn’t greet him.

Jesse had been pouring sweetener into the morning’s first milky cup of coffee when he heard Poppy’s scream. He jolted and the hot liquid splashed over his hand.

Poppy, still attached to her laptop by her headphones, reeled backwards, knocking a plate onto the floor.

‘What is it?’ He turned to her in alarm and noticed that her grey eyes were wide with fear. She pointed a trembling finger towards the counter, and turned away in disgust.

‘What is it?’ Jesse asked again, taking a step back.

‘Look…’ she urged. Her voice had turned up an octave into a whine.

Jesse walked tentatively to the counter, edging into the shadowed corner to which Poppy was pointing.

When he spotted what had frightened her, he let out a laugh of relief and surprise. It was a spider, about the size of the base of a cup, a black thing with sharp legs, kicking at its silvery web.

‘I’ve seen bigger,’ Jesse said.

‘Where?’ said Poppy. ‘In Mombasa?’ She had calmed down a little; her mouth was twisted up in disgust, but she was no longer shaking.

‘What is it?’ Juno looked up from her notes.

‘Just a spider. Just a little—’

‘Don’t touch it!’ Poppy shrieked, jumping back again and rubbing her arms. ‘Kill it. Oh please kill it.’

‘No way.’ Jesse searched around his vicinity for a cup. Killing spiders had been a crime in his household, and this was the first living, moving thing – aside from his crewmates – that he had seen for almost two months. His heart jumped with the same excitement and surprise he’d experienced the first morning he’d climbed up the ladder to the greenhouse and noticed the little green heads of his seedlings bursting through the soil.

‘Hey, buddy,’ he said, placing a cup over it, trying his best not to squash any of its spindly legs. Poppy moaned in horror. ‘Stop being such a wimp,’ he hissed.

‘Don’t be rude,’ Juno said. ‘It’s a phobia.’

‘Don’t tell me you’re scared of spiders too?’ Jesse’s mouth twitched into a smile as he caught sight of Juno in the corner of his eye, hanging back by the breakfast table.

‘Spiders are scary,’ Poppy said.

‘I’m not scared.’ Juno shuddered. ‘Just disgusted. There’s something about them. The legs maybe…’

‘And their bodies,’ said Poppy, ‘and their webs.’

‘It’s the way they move.’ Juno shivered again. ‘I’m disgusted just thinking about it. That fast, silent way they scuttle. It’s almost inherent, a quality in their step, it’s repulsive. It’s unnatural.’