I Fell From The Dark

7

Walking was every bit as exhausting as eating had been, although control of her body was improving dramatically. She started as a shaking, panting mess, but in a single tortured hour she went from barely sitting, to shuffling on a pair of crutches. It wasn't exactly striding, but the freedom was exhilarating.

As she walked, she explored the space she was in.

It was a circle, cut up into five rooms, four smaller ones neatly arranged around a larger central square. This one Pilgrim called the bridge, even though it didn't seem to look significantly different to the others. Everything was curved and pale and padded, walls, floor and ceiling. The lighting was soft, wide disks behind layers of foam. The furniture was composed purely of work benches and a few huge chairs, couches designed to rotate when the ship accelerated. The thing that she'd thought of as her bed was just one of these couches, which had been stretched out to lay her flat. These all had goggles on them which looked high-tech. Mia wanted to look in them, but Pilgrim wouldn't let her.

'There'll be time for that later. Lots of time! For now, let's keep walking.'

All the storage was in containers under the floor. Padded sections could be lifted to reveal boxes: they contained clothes, or tools, or medical equipment, and all sorts of other things. Pilgrim made her open a few, partly to get used to where things were held, but mostly as a stretching exercise. All the clothes were grey overalls. Mia dressed herself in one set. They were softer than they looked.

Under a big square at the centre of the central room, there was a wide, round hatch. It lead down, further into the ship, but Pilgrim wouldn't allow her to open it.

'No, I'm sorry,' said Pilgrim, when Mia protested. 'The ladder would be too hard on your legs. I don't want you to fall. You know, I've been so lonely this last month. I'm glad you're up and about. I've missed you.'

Mia gritted her teeth as her muscles grumbled, and straightened up. 'You said something about that earlier. Did we know each other? I'm sorry if I seem rude. I still can't remember.'

'It's fine. Yes, we trained together for six months, at the facility at the Larunda Imperial Institute.'

Mia frowned, hoped that the name would cause some memory to bob to the surface. There was nothing.

The only thing in her head was the man from her dream. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him. Or, not quite saw: instead, she felt a cocktail of emotions, sweet and bitter: rage, love and despair, all associated with a hazy silhouette.

It can't be a coincidence, she thought. This must be a memory.

She set off again, walking from the bridge back towards what she thought of as her bedroom. Pilgrim followed, ready to catch her, its little wheels almost silent on the padded floor. No wonder she hadn't heard the robot when she'd been asleep.

'Was I married, Pilgrim? Did I have any family? Brothers?'

'Mia! Of course you weren't married! Don't be silly. You wouldn't have been allowed on the mission if you had someone. Did you have a brother? No, you didn't. Why?'

'I can remember... someone. He seemed important to me.'

'Perhaps he was your father. He was a famous scientist.'

The faceless hole in her mind didn't feel like a father. The man was young, and attractive, and funny, and vindictive and aggressive.

The memory of his empty face pushed up another thought, something which she badly missed and hadn't realised until now.

'Why are there no mirrors? I'd really like to see what I look like. I can't even remember that.'

'There are no mirrors so you don't hurt yourself if you go flying into a wall, silly. But if you sit down in one of the couches, I'll show you how to look at yourself on a camera. I think we can take a break from walking.'

Getting into the couch was hard. It was small, but expanded to fit her and then contracted again, so that she was held firmly. Pilgrim showed her how to buckle herself in. She slipped the goggles down over her eyes, and the room dissolved away from her, and she was floating in space.