60
As they arrived at their home – their cabin, Scott felt he had only been away for a few weeks. Somehow his journey light years into deep space seemed like a past life. Still the notion tugged at him that this was not his reality, merely a simulation designed to keep him engaged in this world. Too good for too long, and now it unravels. And yet Deanna had changed, she was not the reassuring presence he had expected. So much was different for her now, and it seemed to be manifest in her painfully thin appearance. What she told him of her experiences created in him an anger that at least gave this world a tangible semblance of reality. She was understandably on edge and voiced her fears and suspicions.
Everything had changed except the basic structure of the cabin. All his possessions gone. He assured Deanna that the material things didn’t really matter. Yet seeing see the room so starkly bereft of everything that personalised their home left a lingering sense of violation. Gone: that vital essence that made it home. Soulless now. But it gave Scott an inkling of a more sinister reality. He remembered the men who told him to keep quiet about his experiences on Eludi-4. The thought came to him out loud, the simple logic: ‘They wanted everything connected with my life to be banished. I was an inconvenience to them, and they were certain I would not return.’
‘You weren’t the only one they wanted out the way,’ Deanna said, hunched over a chair and still twitchy with post-narcotic anxiety. ‘And they made sure no one believed you'd return. Only I had any hope, and that's because I saw you ... or thought I did ... after I'd been sectioned and was drugged up.’
‘The bastards!’ he said, shaking his head and clenching his jaw. ‘Locking you away like you were some psychotic. I hope somehow I did sense you were in trouble, and tried to reach out. But whatever sent me back took my memory. I feel like a part of my life is missing. Anyway, enough about me; if there’s anything you need---’
‘I need you to help me find Gerald.’
Scott smiled. ‘Gerald: the cat that turned against me. Of course I'll help you, D.’
*
When he returned, Raiya thought she was dreaming. After all, he appeared in her bedroom, in the subterranean compound, she couldn’t believe he was really there; no alarms had been set off. Zardino was certainly vigilant that Roidon might return.
And here, fulfilling her wish, Roidon stood. Or someone of his appearance: a man, ordinarily handsome in defined outline of features, in ordinary clothes of jeans and a dark top. The exact colour she couldn’t see as her room had not lit to his presence (a visitor should have caused this to happen, making her further suspect that this was indeed a dream). Neither did he speak, perhaps she needed to imagine the words for him.
Now he was moving closer, and she sat up in bed not even conscious of her nakedness. As he stopped by her bed she said to him, in a rather disconnectedly calm way, ‘It can’t really be you, Roidon, you were captured; that must be the end.’
He stood, seeming to take in her form. Smiling at her.
‘Raiya,’ he said finally. ‘These beings are not evil. They knew I wished to return to see my love.’
‘You’re back to normal?’
‘If by normal you mean I got my mind back, then yes: the old Roidon is back.’
‘What happened?’ Her voice still baring scepticism.
‘They gave me another chance.’
‘But you could have had another chance here.’
‘You shouldn’t be so sure of that. Even the B’tari have their limits. Raiya, I was a hopeless case, remember? My mind was shattered, ripped apart by the Elusivers’ agents.’
‘And yet they restored you.’
‘They owed me that much. They also owed this chance to see you.’
She put on a T-shirt that had been lying beside her bed. ‘What do you want, Roidon?’
‘It’s simple. I just want to be with you. I want you to come with me to somewhere we can be safe.’
Raiya commanded a bright overhead light to activate; it showed him in scrutiny. ‘I don’t even know you’re the real Roidon,’ she said. ‘You’d be asking a heck of a lot – to put my trust in you.’
The man pulled up a black plastic chair and sat right beside her. From his appearance she could never tell if he was an imposter. ‘What’s the alternative?’ he asked rhetorically. ‘You stay here and end your life.’ He shook his head. ‘No. I won’t just allow your entire existence to be wiped from history.’
‘You’re so sure that could happen?’
‘The B’tari; Torbin. I know you have faith in them, Raiya. But all they are doing is playing for time. They might well create their protective bubble of refuge. But for how long? Eventually the power will be exhausted, eventually they will succumb to the inevitable.’
‘And you will save me? How gallant!’
‘That’s not what it is. You know that.’
‘Then say it.’
‘That it’s because I love you. Of course it is.’
That would have been enough if she knew for sure he was genuinely Roidon. But she didn’t feel she could ever be convinced now. But what of the alternative: stay here, never see him again, end her existence? And he was right about the hopelessness facing her, facing Earth. What good could she do for a doomed planet? The B'tari were relentlessly optimistic, no matter what they faced – it was built into their psyche.
‘OK,’ she said eventually. ‘I may be a fool for thinking this is the only way out, but I will go with you if you just answer me one thing: are you really Roidon Chanley?’
‘I am his DNA, I am his mind, his memory, his personality – at least I think I'm all those things. We can never be truly sure, can we. I mean I could ask the same of you.’
She knew his DNA hadn't changed, the scanner currently trained on him would have flagged that. ‘Then there is nothing more I can ask of you,’ she said before sliding off the bed. ‘Allow me ten minutes to get ready.’
Roidon regarded her sceptically, but out of some respect he seemed prepared to take the risk. He left her bedroom to move into her living quarters. This was time she had to alert Zardino. Would Roidon know if she did? Would the comm even work? Roidon was certainly no fool, he’d have considered every possibility. It really felt like she had no choice. She knew him well enough to accept that whatever he desired he could get; it was the defining feature of a sociopath, not that that was Roidon in essence – he defied such simple categorisation. And yet she was attracted by that one feature of his character – just like so many women who knew no better than to be taken in. She imagined her ex-husband shaking his head in disgust, and then her father’s voice of disapproval.
Roidon had now been in the living room for over twelve minutes. She was expecting him to walk through any second, while she packed her few remaining possessions.
After fifteen minutes she pushed open the door to the living room; her heart racing and butterflies in her belly like some nervous schoolgirl. Roidon was facing away, lounging back in a chair with some kind of tablet in his hand. He turned round to face her. He said, ‘You’re ready to leave?’
‘As I’ll ever be.’
‘Then we should leave immediately.’
‘What about Zardino?’ she almost mentioned Torbin, but thought better of it.
‘No time for goodbyes, I’m afraid.’ He smiled quite unreassuringly.
‘You know that’s not what I meant.’
‘They can’t know you’re leaving. I’m sure Torbin will be quite upset, given how in love with you he is. Nevertheless, if they were to know, I think – suffice to say – that all hell would break loose.’
Raiya sighed resignedly. ‘Of course. It’s not as if you could convince them of your best intentions.’
Roidon seemed ignore her last comment. He got up from the chair. ‘Please Raiya, come here.’
With her carry-all in one hand she moved towards him, her heartbeat even heavier and faster now. She stopped a few centimetres away from him and put the bag down.
‘Raiya, all I ask of you is that you put your trust in me.’
‘That’s a lot to ask,’ Raiya said, her voice showing her obvious apprehension.
Roidon gently held her arms and pulled her in closer. At first she thought he was going to kiss her, but then in a rapid movement of his his hand he pushed something onto her neck. She felt a sharp cold sensation. And then the room began to swirl ... until it faded.
***