Chapter Five
Mourning the Dead
The ship assumed the temporal orbit again (or, as I thought then, just stopped to hover somewhere in deep space). I was badly shaken and a little nauseous. My body hurt – I bruised my elbows and knees, I had cuts and grazes, and I pulled my back dragging the man's heavy body onboard. I was so scared I could hardly think, but one impulse was stronger than all the worries and aches. I had to check on the man.
The ramp was too narrow and dark to examine my unexpected companion. Gasping and grunting I pulled him all the way towards the steering panel, where the light seemed the brightest, I rolled him on his back, tilted his head and bent over, moving my ear and cheek close to the man's open lips. There was no breath, and I didn't expect any, seeing how the man's lips were bluish, and his eyes fixed and glossy. He was dead. I touched his neck. It was cool, but it wasn't cold. He couldn't have been dead for long.
Yes, it was scary. It was petrifying. But there are moments when everything you are shifts to a completely different level of thinking and reacting. Sometimes such moments render you useless. On other occasions they make you act.
So I acted.
I tilted the dead man's head even more, pinched his nostrils, pressed my lips to his cold mouth and exhaled, pumping the air into his still lungs. And again. I moved a little bit on my knees, opened the man's vest quickly and run my fingers down his sternum to find a right spot. Then my fingers interlaced as if on their own, the heel of my right hand digging into the man's body; I lifted up from the floor, squared my shoulders, stiffened my elbows and I pushed. And pushed. And pushed.
Two breaths and chest contractions, breaths and chest contractions – the process was almost mindless, automatic. I was dizzy and my shoulders hurt, but I could not stop.
'He's dead,' a little voice inside my head kept repeating. 'You can't save him, he's dead. He's been dead a long time before you arrived. There's nothing you can do. He's dead.'
I used to be a life guard's assistant back at school and if there was one thing I had learned from him, it was CPR. But my strength was failing, and I felt I could not go on for much longer.
"Come on!" I yelled. "Come back, come on, breathe, damn you! Breathe!"
'He's dead,' the little voice insisted. 'Did you really think you could resurrect him? You're not a god.'
"Come ON!" I bellowed, putting my hands together and striking the man's sternum with what was left of my strength. "Kick in, you stupid heart! COME ON!"
The man's eyes stared up. They were not glossy anymore, as their surface started drying up. They were vacant and they were dead.
I slumped heavily on my backseat next to the dead man. I was defeated and angry at the same time. It was all pointless, useless, I was useless and I was alone…
"There's nothing I can do!" I yelled at the ship's rota, the closest thing to a sentient creature I could find at that moment. "What am I good for? Huh? I can't help! I can't help him! I can't help you! I'm useless!"
The ship was murmuring quietly. It infuriated me even more.
"I want to go home! Take me home, take me home, take me home! Take me back home, you dumb brute!"
With the corner of my eye I saw something flickering. I snapped my head up, but it was just the holographic projection of a man in a black leather jacket. This time the picture was jerky like a rough montage. And the message was different. It sounded as if glued from many fragments; the voice uneven, pitch and tone changing, some words almost completely mangled. The hologram of the man repeated over and over:
"This machine… is… facing a… fatal… enemy. And you can do one thing… Activate life… Open… this old box. Open… me."
"What?" I growled. "What do you mean? Open you how? Open the door?"
"No… Move… little thing… you… facing… Open… emergency… thing… you… facing…"
It was even more forced, as if the hologram was grasping for words, gluing them together as it spoke. Only, it wasn't the hologram at all, I thought suddenly. Or it was, in a sense that it was a part of the machine, the ship, talking to me using the only means of communication it could find at such a short notice.
I was facing the console – so incredibly complicated and alien. Each and every switch or lever could be the 'emergency thing' the ship was talking about. For a second I felt hopeless, but then a very simple idea flashed through my mind. I got up heavily and marched to the console.
"All right," I said. "Which little thing?"
I moved my hand towards a serrated wheel imbedded in the panel. "This one."
"No…" the hologram answered immediately.
I moved my hand slightly to the right towards a row of switches. "Switch number one?"
"No…"
"Switch number two?"
"No…"
The process of elimination was slow, and it seemed I exhausted all the options, when the machine suddenly said: "Move…"
My hand halted in mid gesture, hovering over the panel. "What? There is nothing here? What am I supposed to move?"
"Move…" the machine repeated stubbornly.
I sighed and landed my hand on the rough surface. I moved my fingers up and down, feeling for hidden buttons or switches, then slid my hand under the desktop and touched the bottom of the console.
"MOVE…" shouted the ship.
My fingers found a small protrusion, and I dug my fingernails in a tiny fissure in at its bottom. I pulled. Something clicked.
"Now; listen…" the ship uttered. "This is important… you're… in danger… Must… escape… Do… no… notice… li…it…"
"What?!" I asked.
"Do… no… notice… li…it…"
But by then I knew what the ship meant. Do not look into the light. Because light is dangerous. Must escape.
Well, tough. It was too late, anyway.
A whole panel of the steering console lifted up, and in the gap appeared a swirl of brightly orange light. It was undulating like a liquid, pulsating with strands of energy. The very centre of the light was painfully white. It seemed the whole room darkened, and only the orange radiation remained, so bright, it was burning.
The light streamed towards me, across me, to reach the dead man on the floor. It cocooned him with amber glow, swelled to ultraviolet whiteness, and expanded, soaking everything in its rays.
The light was full of voices and shadows. It was brimming with thoughts and ideas. It carried a terrible knowledge of everything that was, everything that is, everything that could ever be. And it burned like fire and acid and love.
"Danger… fatal…" the ship said. "Do… no… notice… li… it…"
With a sigh that resembled a sob I stretched my arms in front of me, found the edge of the panel, and leaned on it, with all my strength pushing it back down. The light was piercing my brain, so I screwed my eyes, and pushed harder. Even with my eyes closed, I could see everything through my eyelids – reddish and gold, and so true. I wanted more, but I knew somehow, that I was burning already, so with a final heave I slammed the panel shut.
The light died.
My head was swimming.
In this brief moment I have learnt more than I would learn throughout my whole life.
And now the knowledge was killing me.
To be continued...
