Piranha Chapter 6: Hide and Seek, Part 2, a rayman fanfic

A/N: This should probably be named as a separate chapter, but it's really the second half of Chapter 5 (which got out of hand) … and the last part of the beginning section of the story. Hope it was worth the wait!

Chapter 5: Hide and Seek (concluded):

It was again the middle of the night when they emerged cautiously from the storage room to return to the cabin, each carrying a bag of "booty." Rayman was more comfortable now having acquired some underclothes, as well as an old loose, long, grey sailor's shirt, gathered tightly together at the neck to hold it on, and tied with a piece of rope for a belt. He had even managed to put together some soft leather medieval-looking slippers that just tied around his feet like little bags – but they were an improvement over being barefoot. The ragged bathrobe he consigned, with a brief sarcastic ceremony, to one of the junk heaps. The finished and unfinished clothes they had made or altered, he packed into the bag, along with materials to make more.

They went back the way they had come, scurrying cautiously through the branching corridors, pausing frequently to listen for intruders, padding up the stairs with their burdens rather than taking the elevators.

They were in the middle of a corridor when they both heard it – distant echoing footfalls, far down a nearby branch. They halted, glanced at each other, and silently dived behind one of the stacks of large, heavy wooden crates scattered throughout the halls. They pulled their bags awkwardly into the cramped space and waited. Rayman shifted past Elly so that he was nearer the narrow way in.

It was a horrendously long wait, but the heavy treading feet became slowly louder, emerged from the branch corridor, then turned and came down the hallway towards them, passing the stack of crates.

Rayman glanced at Elly. She stood leaning back against the wall, a little tense but calm.

When he moved, though, she started, silently grabbed his hand, shook her head.

Gently, he pulled away. He jumped high up, grabbing the top of the tall crate, and soundlessly hoisted himself up to lie flat on it, creeping to the edge so he could see.

What he saw was the back of two large pirates as they swayed down the corridor. It was his first good look at any pirates since arriving on the ship. They were robots. No. They were human.

In the dim light, seeing them from above and behind, he realized that he had been misled not only by their trucklike size and lumbering gait, but by the amount of bright metal they both wore on their clothes – although each wore it differently in size, position, and shape, nothing like a uniform. Still, both had their upper backs covered by what looked like metal plating, both had strips of metallic stuff along their arms, legs, and sides. One wore shiny gloves. And their presumably human heads were hidden from his view by two identical triangular black hats – the traditional pirate hats he had seen the invaders of his planet wear, perched absurdly atop those huge frames. On a first glance in the semidark, these two did resemble the thick, heavily armoured, sometimes clothed robots that had infested his planet.

On the other hand, their occasionally sprawling, uncoordinated movements weren't so suggestive of machinery. Nor was the reek of alcohol, still hanging in the air even after they had fumbled themselves around a corner into another passageway. Just before they disappeared, one of them abruptly fractured the quiet with a line or two of an off-colour song, sung even more off-key and then waveringly repeated. The other one thumped him audibly in the side, apparently setting off a series of hiccups and belches that did very little to improve either the volume or the artistic effect of the song rendition. There was another thump and an exasperated growl as they turned the corner. Rayman waited until the sound of protests, song snatches, and thumping had retreated far down the hallway, then slid back down to the floor beside Elly.

"What's the deal with the metal? Are they wearing armour?" he asked, in a low voice.

"Some of them try to look like robots," she said.

He raised his eyebrows, then shook his head. "Right," he said. "Let's go."

They made their way quickly after that through the several levels and corridors that took them towards their own cabin. On the way, Rayman stopped frequently, looking around him more carefully than he had coming out.

"Elly," he whispered. "Where would I find Anaconda?"

Elly dropped her bag. "Now?" she faltered.

He grinned. "No, not now. In the daytime."

She said, "He walks around through the ship most of the day, especially the ... the prisoner parts and the navigation parts. And he spends a lot of time in the – they call it the war room. That's where the officers meet to plan attacks. He'll probably be in there most of the time right now because they'll be landing soon."

Rayman put down his bag and looked at her. "Landing?"

"You know, landing on a new planet. To conquer it."

He was silent a moment. "How do you know that?"

Elly shrugged, as though at a loss to explain the obvious. "It's just time, that's all. We've been in space for days. Long enough to rest up from the last one."

He closed his eyes, briefly, standing there. Then he said, "So, Elly, where is this war room? And the sections you were talking about?"

She looked around uneasily. "Mostly up three levels from here and – I can show you the way before we go back to the cabin. But we can't go into those sections now. Those parts of the ship are always patrolled, night and day. We couldn't get through without being seen. They wouldn't care much about me, but ..."

Rayman picked up his bag again. "Okay, then. Just show me how to get there."

"We'd better hurry," she said, shouldering her bag as well. "It's late."

As they approached their cabin, Rayman halted suddenly, grabbing Elly's arm so hard she squeaked. He held still, not even breathing. She too held her breath. There wasn't a sound. But then she saw what he was looking at – a door, far down the corridor near their cabin, was open. Not just open – as she peered through the distance and darkness, she could see it was broken, smashed in.

Rayman was glancing around the hallway. Silently he moved towards a closed cabin door, pulling Elly with him. There was a key in the door, as in all the unoccupied rooms. Very slowly, wincing at the slight scraping noise he couldn't avoid, he turned the key. He stood at the door for a moment, then put down his bag, pushed Elly gently a little distance away. He took hold of the handle, hesitated, then flung the door open, lunging into the room, landing in a half-crouch.

There was no one there. He made a swift circuit of the room to be sure, then waved Elly to come in. Dragging both of the bags, she did. She closed the door behind her – Rayman jumping over to grab it himself as she pushed it shut, slowing it carefully so it closed without a sound. He stood there a moment, ear against the door, listening intently. Then he turned to her.

"Well," he whispered, grinning a little, "I guess we're in the market for some new real estate."

Elly was gazing at him, at the door, at him again. "D'you think that was about you, Rayman?"

"What, are they in the habit of breaking down doors just as a regular thing around here?"

"... Nooo... No. But why would -"

"Nobody else seems to stay in the cabins around here, do they? This whole wing looks pretty abandoned."

"It's the old section, they only use it when the ship's overflowing. Nobody's lived around here for a long time. Except a few guests like you."

He gazed at her with wry amusement. "Guests? I appreciate that little sample of ship's hospitality down the hall, but – somehow I don't feel so welcome."

"That wasn't even your door, Rayman. They might not have touched yours at all."

"True. But I don't really want to go and count how many other doors they, uh, examined. It's time to move on."

Elly sat down in a chair and sighed. Rayman came up beside her, touched her shoulder lightly.

"I know you're tired, Elly. So am I. But we can't sleep until we find another place. I've already been getting pretty restless, waiting for something like this to happen."

She said nothing, but lowered her head, twisting her fingers together.

"See, Elly," he said, sitting down in the other chair by the table, "There are a lot of pirates on this ship. You yourself told me they're alive, even if they're robots. That means they have opinions. And they don't necessarily all have the same opinion as Anaconda. Anaconda, well, he decided to – to take me on. That doesn't mean all his officers and crew want me around. A lot of them know me. I don't want any surprise visits, you see what I mean?"

And while Elly was thinking this over, her eyes widening, he added, "And I wouldn't say I have total confidence in Anaconda himself, either. So we need to be ... elusive. While we still have a chance to be." He looked around the room. "I don't know when they came by down there, but I'd prefer to be farther away, and it doesn't sound like anyone's around right now to see or hear us. So let's go."

She got out of the chair, stretched, sighed. "All right," she said. "I'm ready."

Once again they hoisted their bulky bags and slipped out of the room. As he was closing the door, though, Rayman paused. After turning the key quietly in the lock, he removed it and replaced it with the key to their old cabin door, which he had been carrying. Elly watched him in silence.

Without a word they returned back down the hallway the way they'd come.

But once they were further away, he could no longer hold back his thoughts, whispering rapidly to her as they scouted through the maze of corridors. "I've been thinking about this, Elly. We need several bases. Each one with a cache of food and arms. We need to find alternative ways out of these cabins. I've checked the air ducts. You and I are small enough to fit into them. They aren't. Point for us! We've got to explore the ducts in the area and map out routes... And I'd like to see what's under the floorboards in these cabins, how much space there is. It could come in handy..."

"You sound like you're preparing for a war."

"Right," he said. "How about this room here?"

It was a perfectly ordinary wooden door like all the others. The big metal key sticking out of the lock turned with some reluctance. They went in.

"Ugh," said Elly. "Nobody's been in here in a long time."

"Perfect," Rayman said.

Turning on a small light, they checked out the room. Although so long abandoned that even the floor was dusty, it was much like the other two cabins: a bed, a closet, a tiny kitchen or galley, a small table with two hard chairs, a bathroom. The water supply worked, once it coughed the rust out of the way, and although the bed sent up a storm of dust when Rayman smacked it, it didn't look too badly dilapidated otherwise.

"Home sweet home," he said, shrugging. "It's far enough away from the other place. Not likely they'd find us here. Let's get our stuff in and clean up a little."

Elly sighed. "All right, Rayman."

As they brought the bags into the new room, Rayman stuck the key to the old cabin into the outside lock of the door.

"That one won't work here," Elly told him.

"That's what I was hoping," he said. "But it looks like the room's empty, doesn't it? With the key left in the door like the other empty rooms."

Elly looked at the door with one of her rare smiles. "That's a good idea," she said.

"Not exactly brilliant, and not foolproof, but every little bit helps."

Except for their brief naps in the storage room, Elly and Rayman had been going for more than a full day and night without rest or much food. They brushed the worst of the dust off the galley counter, the table, and the chairs, and since they had fortunately found warmer, somewhat cleaner blankets in the storage room to replace the threadbare ones in the old cabin, they used the bed's filthy cover to sweep up the dust still swirling around on the floor. They took the mattress off the bed and beat most of the remaining dust out of it, with the result of exchanging a very dusty mattress for a completely choking atmosphere; they put it back on the bed with its cleaner side up, and flopped onto it without even bothering to replace the blankets.

"Are you hungry?" Rayman whispered, after a minute.

Elly's mumble was barely articulate. "No... too tired."

He yawned. "Good."

They both coughed, without waking.

And it seemed only a moment later that they both sprang off the bed and stared at each other. It was still dark, the automatic day lights hadn't yet come up. Rayman palmed on a small light, put a warning finger to his lips as Elly's mouth opened.

There was another distant crash somewhere outside the room.

Rayman put up a hand to tell her not to move. Silently he advanced towards the locked door. He went into position beside it, his body in a slight crouch, his eyes narrowed, his fists clenched, waiting tensely, motionless.

Elly winced at another crash. Without a sound, she sidled over to the booty sacks and poked carefully around in them. She pulled out Rayman's dagger and crept over to him, holding it out. He turned towards her.

Her body froze. The eyes were cold liquid metal, weirdly catching and amplifying the dim light, luminous, hard, burning like ice. The body and those solid fists seemed to glow, to radiate with an intensity that went through her like x-rays. She made a small sound.

Instantly, he was himself again. Glancing at the knife, he gave her a tiny smile and shook his head.

She retreated backwards to the bed, not taking her eyes off him, clutching the dagger, breathing fast.

The scuffling and banging in the corridor was moving, getting now louder, now softer. They could hear several voices, both human and robotic, shouting, grumbling, arguing.

"Blast it! He could be anywhere by now. Doing anything! Dammit, I wanted to get him right after they dumped him there, days ago, while he was still – But, no, the Boss was keeping an eye out! Wants to keep his precious little laser-cannon pet! How in the hell he could have thought of letting that maniac out of the -"

"I still don't get what you want with that pathetic little freak."

"Pathetic little freak? Didn't you hear what he did to Zobu – I'm talking about Zobu! – and his team, down on that crazy planet? And that was before those loony fairy things joined in! I've never been so happy to get out of anywhere as I was when we left that madhouse."

"I heard some wild stories. Bunch of lies."

"Lies, yeah – not half as wild as what really happened. Have you noticed we have half the robots we used to? Where we going to get more? But what do you care, human -"

"C'mon, Blargh, don't start that. Look, we're not going to find him here. Can't we go? There's still time to get drunk before morning."

"No, damn it! —Wouldn't let me post guards by the door. Not even around the old wing! None! Wants to make a bet! He's gone nuts, I'm telling you, he's lost it completely! Ah, hell and fried potatoes, Laser-boy's got to be somewhere."

"Probably holed up in the slave quarters. The girl -"

"Yeah, maybe, maybe... Fortaz, try that one." Something, likely a huge metallic foot or fist, slammed against a nearby door. The thick wood audibly splintered.

Rayman's body tensed harder. His teeth silently bared. His eyes went completely black.

Elly stared at him paralyzed, from where she huddled beside the bed.

"Naah!" came a third voice, through the ventilation duct, startlingly loud as if right in the room with them. "Nobody in here."

"Idiot! Stop wrecking the doors! I'm not gonna pay for them!"

"You just wrecked one yourself!"

"Use the damn keys!"

The clomping feet, the crashing and vibrating against walls and doors, were very close. Down the hall, more voices could be heard. The robotic voice of Blargh bellowed, loud enough to vibrate the door of their own cabin. "I said every door! Every door! I saw that, Dorion, you skipped some back there!"

A distant yell, unintelligible. And as Elly watched, the figure by the door clenched its fists tighter, pulled them a little closer to its body, took a deep breath, then seemed not to breathe at all. A small figure, crouching low... but huge, crowding her hard up against the wall, and the air was filled with a desperate savagery, a ferocity that made her clamp her hands over her face.

And at that point, the room lights came up.

"Blargh! It's morning! We got to report in!" The human voice sounded disloyally smug.

A pause. "Yeah... crap. Okay, let's go."

One last crash, against a door on the other side of the hall; and the grumbling and tromping and complaining started back the way they had come, though quite hastily now, and faded quickly around the bends in the corridor.

It was only after every sound had faded, and after several more minutes of silence, while he listened very closely, ear pressed against the door, that Rayman's hunched body relaxed. He straightened up. For a moment there was still a trace of that preternatural intensity in his eyes; then he shook his head lightly and it was gone. He flexed his hands. He looked over at Elly.

"Well," he said, with a light grin. "It must be you, because that certainly wasn't my luck." Elly was silent. He cocked his head a little, eyeing her, and smiled wryly, seeing the wide eyes, the still-crouched posture, the sheathed dagger still unconsciously gripped in her hand.

"Elly. Are you okay?"

She couldn't answer, couldn't turn her eyes away. His smile drooped a little.

"You look like a mouse looking at a cat... It's me, isn't it. Worse than the pirates, eh?"

She tried to look away from him, but she was still frozen by those metallic eyes that weren't there any more. There were only his, Rayman's, gentle, slightly pained.

He began to walk towards her, then paused. He sat down at the table. He looked at his hands, now just hands again. Where had the rocklike fists, the glowing body, the hugeness gone? Or had it been only some kind of illusion? But there had been nothing illusory about the intensity of power that she had felt radiating from him.

He said, quietly, "Elly... you know, you don't need to be afraid of me. You really don't." He glanced at her but looked away again. "I hate... oh, god, I can't tell you how much I hate it when people... get frightened for no reason."

And he looked so forlorn, now, in his silly greyish shirt and torn white gloves and improvised shoes, with his tousled, dusty hair and that small absurd body, that Elly managed to move again. She put down the knife and crept up beside his chair. She crouched on the floor, looking up without a word until he turned his head. His mouth quirked.

"And thanks for offering to help," he said, lightly. "That was good thinking, you know, about the dagger."

She sighed. She got up and sat in the other chair. "But Rayman... why didn't you want it? You said you needed weapons."

He was looking at his hands again, contemplatively. "I don't know... I... It seemed so unnatural. It still does. I guess it's something I'm going to have to... to learn. But I felt right then that the dagger wouldn't have helped." He smiled at her, though his eyes were sombre. "But you did very well, all the same, it was the right thing to do."

They sat in silence for a few moments. Then Rayman took a deep breath. He looked at her and grinned brightly. "Well!" he said. "Think it's time to eat yet?"

Elly returned his smile, a shy distant echo of it. "Will you eat this time if I give you something?"

There was a distinct touch of relief behind the cheerfulness. "I'm starving."

They had been sitting at the table for some time, silently eyeing the remains of their small meal of leftovers, brought along in the bag, when Rayman finally spoke up.

"Are you okay, Elly? You've been awfully quiet. Not that you're such a chatterbox anyway, but – you are all right, aren't you?"

She lowered her eyes. "They came after you... And that was Blargh. Maybe the Boss has started thinking about you again."

"Well, I've been thinking of him, too." He smiled encouragingly. "Thanks to all your hard work, I'll be able to go... go deal with him."

She looked up at him, shyly. "Can you try on the clothes now? You haven't put on the whole set together... I think you're going to look very good."

He lurched out of his chair and began to pace, darting around the room, absently picking up random objects and putting them back, picking them up again, wandering around with them and then setting them someplace else. At last he halted; abruptly twisted to face her. "Elly. You know any games?"

"Games?"

"Anything, I don't care how dumb. Charades? Cards? Throwing dice? Tic-tac-toe? Chess? I know – tossing pennies into a hat! Got any pennies?"

She didn't have any pennies, and she watched with an increasingly worried look as he dived into his bag of loot and dug out a double handful of small bright glassy stones he had picked up for no discernible reason. He found an ornate, tarnished metal water goblet in the galley and displayed it triumphantly.

"This is too small really – going to be a challenge! Okay, Elly, now we put the cup here by the wall, see, and you sit right here – clear away these chairs, give ourselves some room – I'll keep score –"

"But – Rayman – why are you doing this?"

He looked at her dumfounded. "'Why'?"

"What's the point?"

Abruptly he stopped his quick, excited movements; a compassionate smile came across his face, and he took hold of her hands. Gently he pulled her out of her chair, sat her down on the floor some feet away from the cup, and crouched beside her, putting a hand on her shoulder. He whispered to her, confidentially.

"Elly, serious Elly... Learn to play."

It took a while, it took quite a lot of coaching and prodding on his part. He practically had to physically force her to try to toss a stone into the cup, and when she missed she fell flat on the floor in abject apology. She couldn't make any sense of the suppressed laughter in his eyes. He showed her how to do it, made her try again, and kept her trying until at last she got one in. That brightened her a little, although she couldn't imagine why it mattered. He gripped both her shoulders for a moment, grinning. "Good going!" And after a while they were taking alternate shots, even keeping score, and at the end of an hour or so of increasingly noisy activity, she actually found herself feeling a surge of real emotion, a fierce sensation she'd never experienced, of wanting to win... he was only ahead by one, she only needed one more! And when she got it, she laughed out loud, elated, her gold-brown eyes shining.

And before she could realize what she was doing and clamp down on herself, he had grabbed her with both hands and quickly given her a big strong hug.

He looked into her face, laughing. "Embarrassed? Again? Watch out, Elly, I think you're hiding a real cutthroat competitor under all that phony shyness!"

After which, of course, she couldn't do it any more. But he beamed at her, patted her shoulder. Methodically he picked up the game pieces, put everything away, returned the chairs to their proper positions, and sat her back down in one.

She was still shaken. Had that been her own voice she'd heard laughing? (Laughter so often prefigured death.) She kept hearing it again, some deeply startling alien thing trying to explode out of her... Where had that come from? What dangerous madness lurked in her that could betray her, put her at risk, break loose in that way?

But when she looked at Rayman, as he sat contemplating her with a relaxed, affectionate, rather ironic amused look, it seemed as though perhaps the danger wasn't quite as bad as it should be, as it always had been... Perhaps ... perhaps it wasn't always so very dangerous, to show an emotion.

The fit of agitated wakefulness that had seized them both at the approach of the pirates abandoned them both almost simultaneously. Elly, slumping in her chair, could not keep track of where her head was; she kept starting awake to find it in odd places. At last, when Rayman, sitting across the table in the other chair, abruptly tapped the table between them, she forced her eyes open to discover her head was on her arm, her arm outstretched on the table. Her eyes flatly refused to focus.

"Elly, I'm sorry," Rayman said. "I got to thinking... Let's get some sleep."

Utterly exhausted, Elly slapped herself down on the bed and huddled into a blanket. It was odd to be going to sleep in the morning, but she had never been so tired. She took a deep breath. Then she turned her head; Rayman had not lain down, he was still sitting on the edge of the bed, looking around the room. Although she didn't say anything, after a moment he turned to look at her looking at him. His eyes were oddly sombre; disconcerting after the pleasant time they had been having.

Then he smiled, though his eyes didn't change. "Elly," he said, softly. "Elly. Would it be all right if I – Could you give us a hug? Would you mind very much?"

Still groggy, she felt a slight shiver: The startlement of the brief squeeze he had given her earlier; the abruptly revived picture of those mercury-coloured backlit eyes by the door, waiting for the pirates; and a crowd of how many old, shuddering moments of somebody being too close, too close.

She could see in his face that he was about to change his mind, withdraw his request, turn away. "I don't mind," she said.

As she unwound herself from the blanket, he walked around to her side of the bed, stood in front of her. She couldn't quite fathom the look in his face; was it sorrowful? Pleased? Wistful. She stood up, hesitated; he, a little hesitant too, leaned forward and put his big hands lightly around her. Their bodies didn't touch, but he pressed his smooth cheek against hers. After a moment, she wrapped her hands around his back. And they held still. There was a small sensation of a tightness in her throat, a little pressure... She closed her eyes. She could hear his slow breathing, feel it, feel the warmth of those big enveloping hands around her. And slowly, the old instinctive resistance faded. The hard tightness, the hand gripping her throat, was fading too; and the blur of her exhaustion was melding into a sense of – of stillness – like some ancient memory, of lying quietly on the shore by small lapping waves, while the sun burned overhead, so far away... burning so cruelly hot, yet the tips of its long fingers caressed her, gently, lulling her to sleep... with a sense of utter restfulness and peace. There was no such thing as fear in the world, there never had been.

There was sorrow, somewhere. But it only made her hold on harder. She couldn't reach it, she couldn't touch it, but she yearned to take hold of it, still it... to – to comfort it. A new thought for her. To touch it with that peacefulness, as the sun touched her.

She staggered a little; with a start, she half-woke. The big hands gripped her for a moment, so she wouldn't fall. She heard his soft chuckle. He gave her a small squeeze and let go, stepped back. His eyes met hers just for an instant; his face was smiling, but the eyes were – he pulled them away quickly.

'Thank you," he said, his voice low, a little hoarse. "Thanks." The dark eyes glanced at her again, briefly, almost shyly, and he turned away. He walked back around to his side of the bed and lay down, pulling his blanket around himself. He was facing away from her, but she saw his chest move with a deep sigh.

She too wrapped herself in her blanket. Though for the moment now she was wide awake.

There was silence for a few breaths. Then, softly, distantly, as though disembodied, came a quiet voice.

"Elly... are you asleep?"

"No."

A pause. She felt that tightness in her throat again, the hand gripping it, near suffocation. She couldn't see his face. He said, very low, "Elly... It's been nice, you know? You've helped me so much. I won't forget."

For a moment she half sat up, turning towards him. His face was still hidden. "What? Are you going someplace?"

He said, "I–I'm afraid to wake up... from this slow-motion nightmare... I've never been so... I guess it's fear, I guess that's what to call it, I hardly know. I feel so strange, Elly, so paralyzed, so – numb."

"Are you still sick, Rayman? You seemed so much better."

He chuckled softly, turning onto his back, glancing at her. "Not sick. I'm fine. Couldn't be better. Except to be... Oh, maybe that brat I was, back home, back in the village where I grew up. Elly, if you knew – the trouble I used to get into! I was the wild kid, you know, the one the other kids did stupid things to impress! The first one people thought of, if anything – blew up, or was found smashed, or ... mysteriously moved overnight, like that water mill... But it worked better where we put it!" He chuckled again, but Elly, lying back down again, could feel the tightness in her throat growing, and his voice was very quiet when he spoke. "I never meant to be destructive. Maybe a bit, uh, experimental... But people would get so furious with me, and I never quite saw why. I didn't recognize myself in what they said, they seemed to be talking about someone else..." His voice trailed away. After a few moments, Elly spoke, a little anxiously.

"Rayman?"

"And now... maybe it's the biggest blunder of all. Certainly the biggest... most unpredictable... experiment." He was silent again, for such a long time that despite the touch of worry prodding at her, she began to sink back towards sleep.

Then that soft voice again, very low, hoarse. "Did he do the right thing? All I know is that he tried. He tried. He was desperate. But I... I'm ... I'm frightened, Elly. I'm the one who's going to live with the aftermath of what he did in his desperation. To save his people..." He sighed quietly. "To save his people... what did he condemn me to? Though that doesn't matter, does it. His people were saved. And he... he's well out of it. He couldn't face... he couldn't face what... what he would..." He turned over, pulled the blanket over him.

"...Rayman? What –"

A sigh from under the blanket. "What he would become. The coward. The weasel. He abandoned me here alone."

Elly said, "Who? What are you talking about? But, you know – I'm here. Didn't you say that yourself? You're not – you're not alone."

A small sound, unclear. "Elly... thank you. ... Only... well, never mind. Thank you."

Another quiet sigh. A pause. Then, his voice again; but completely changed – though still soft, it was suddenly warm, bright, with little sparks of humour; and half-dreaming.

"It was a such beautiful planet, Elly. When you talked about yours, where you came from, it took me right back to mine, to ... my home. The forest. The rivers, the sea. The village. The kind, gentle people... And, years ago, wandering away from them all, restless at night, all those restless nights, wanting something more and not knowing what it was...

"Think of it... Waking up out in the middle of nowhere, deep in the ancient forest, after spending a night in a pile of old fallen leaves, twigs, bugs... waking to the soft moist light, the bright scents, the intricate sounds of a green-tinted dawn feeling its delicate way in through the canopy... Oh, Elly, the softness, the freshness, the beauty. The way it would take hold of you and grip your body until you didn't know whether to laugh or cry; and as you stood up and shook off the night you felt yourself expand, to become suddenly tremendous, as big as the world, oh, enveloping it, growing one with it, containing it and contained within it. Touching every living thing that walked or crawled or swam, that played or fought or fled... So many faces, voices, all alive, all so sparkling with life, so much magic. Maybe it was only imagination. But..."

He sighed. "They all, every one of them, had a tendril inside of me. When they were all yanked out at once, what did it do to me? I belonged to them, Elly. You understand? I belonged to them. I was responsible for them."

He laughed suddenly, not a happy laugh. "The worst of all... You want to know what the worst thing is? It's that I can't bear to think of it any more. I can't endure the thought of... where he came from. That guy. That one who died and left me... left me this future. What an inheritance." He sighed again, more lightly, a little bent smile on his face. "Still. In the end, I can't blame him. And what use is blame anyway. It's a killer, it kills. And I – I'm condemned to live."

Elly was half sitting up again, looking intently at him now as he lay on his back, his eyes closed. For a few moments, she couldn't quite get the words out. "Rayman... Was it really? Was your home really like mine?"

He turned his face towards her, brightening again. This time even the eyes smiled. "Yes, Elly, I think it was. We're alike that way. Don't you think so?"

She collapsed onto her back, her pale eyes sinking shut, a tidal wave of sleep crashing over her; but there was a little smile irrepressible on her face. "I'm so glad. I'm ... so..." Her breath exhaled in a mumble.

He yawned, stretched, wrapped the blanket tighter against the chilly air. "Elly. Did I ever remember to say ... I was fond of you? Anyway. Get some sleep."

"... G'nigh."

Another silence. Then, with a small groan, Rayman got up to turn out the light.

She awoke once. It was dark. There wasn't a sound in the room, except his slow breathing as he slept, and the familiar, comforting, deep vibration of the ship itself. Curling up near the edge of the bed, Elly took in a long breath. It was so strange... but the word, the feeling, kept crowding her, prodding at her, it had nagged through all her dreams until she had finally had to wake up and take a look at it. That was what it was... she was happy. That's what he'd said, Rayman had said... he'd laughed at her, with those kind eyes... his real eyes... and at last, at last she was convinced. She was happy. This was what happiness was; to lie here, luxuriantly tired, completely peaceful, surrounded by that subtle sense of well-being that always seemed to pervade the place where he was.

She had done so many things in the last day, so many new things, and later there would be many more, and she was happy... The Boss was after him, yes, but she felt such confidence in Rayman that right now even that didn't worry her. It would all be all right... For the first time that she could remember, it really felt as though ... she felt as though it would be safe to relax, let down her guard... be happy. Just be happy. There would be a future. For the first time in her life she was sure of it. It was even safe to go back to sleep... Even the thick black waters of sleep, as they dragged her down, didn't frighten her. That strong sun was still burning way high up, it could see clear through the darkness, clear to the bottom of the ocean.

His eyes opened. The room was cold, and nearly black. Only a wan greenish glowstrip on the floor near the bathroom door gave any shape to the darkness. He closed his eyes again; then sighed. He sat up.

As he got to his feet, he glanced at the shadowy form on the other side of the bed, and smiled a little.

Then he turned away. He groped over to the table, and sat down, crouching feet and all in the seat of a chair. He wrapped his hands around his chest and sides for warmth.

Motionless, he sat there in the dark, his head down, his eyes lowered. Looking at nothing.

[End of chapter 5]