Chapter 35

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Bill stood at the window looking out as the ship tore through space. The stars in the black night's sky melded into one blur of white light. He liked the simplicity of the sky, of space, of the untroubled planets that existed independently from Earth's mess; anything that suggested life could exist without complications.

The ship rode the magnetic slipstream between the planets, passing by what looked like two moons. The light changed from white to grey, then back to white again. A moon: that's what Earth looked like due to the dense weather formation over the entire planet. Long gone was the luminous blue-and-white sphere depicted in old photos. How had two generations ruined something so magnificent?

It was close to midnight, the time of night when Bill knew the last of the passengers retired to their sleeping pods. It had been a week since he'd left Exilon 5, and while he'd got some sleep, it did little to take the edge off his exhaustion. And when he thought he could sleep, he'd almost suffocated in his sleeping pod. The Actigen in his system would make sure he'd never get caught out like that again. Every day he thanked the timely arrival of those two men.

Their faceless silhouettes with eyes that burned bright haunted him. Who were they? Others talked about them but nobody stepped forward to claim their hero status. It was like the pair had vanished off the ship.

Bill padded along one of the tubular passageways that connected the wheel rim to the hub of the ship. With every heavy step, he fought against his chemically-maintained consciousness. It was no way to live, permanently awake, but he refused to give up control over his body until he reached Earth. Then there was his paranoia, his inability to trust anyone.

His medication could be to blame for that.

Bill maintained his vigilance for real or imagined foes as he navigated his way along the spokes, each step illuminating a new section and plunging the previous part into darkness. He zigzagged along the horizontal tubes that connected to the vertical spokes. If someone followed, he wouldn't make it easy for them.

He arrived at the empty recreation room. With nobody around, he focused on the door at the back separating the operational centre of the ship from the passengers.

He'd seen the officers open the door using their security chip. He walked up to it, curious to see to how a ship this size flew. An access control panel sat to the right of the door. He pressed his thumb against it and the panel flashed red.

Disappointed, Bill turned away. Too fast, perhaps, because a wave of dizziness hit him. He stumbled forward as one of the side effects of Actigen abuse took hold.

Just inches away from one table, his legs buckled, and he crumpled to the floor. He groped for the edge and used it to ease himself up. With barely half a cheek resting on one seat, he lost control and slipped back down.

A breath rushed out of his body as he lay there, staring up at the ceiling. With his arms and legs acting like dead weights, Bill rolled to one side until he was on his hands and knees. The cold floor chilled him as he crawled forward towards the seat.

Another bout of dizziness caught him. He groped for the seat again, this time making it in time. He sat with his head in his hands. His head felt heavier than a wrecking ball. He didn't even notice it slip from his hands, but he cried out when it cracked against the table. The hard knock brought him back to reality. The dizziness, the exhaustion—he could no longer fight it. His eyes closed against his wishes...


Bill jerked awake, feeling disorientated. The inside of his almost-black sleeping pod slowly came into focus. How did he get here? His memory of his last movements eluded him. The last thing he remembered was sitting at one of the recreation tables and resting his eyes for a minute. Now here he was in his sleeping unit with no clue of the time or day.

Panic and fear gripped hold of him.

'What the hell just happened to me?'


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