Chapter 405: Holding on for Dear Life

Chapter 405: Holding on for Dear Life

Helping people is supposed to make you feel good. Hold the door open, help carry luggage, give a lift to the airport. It soon starts to wear you down.

You need to find a balance. Most people achieve it by choosing things that appear to be them going out of their way to selflessly offer assistance to those who need it, while actually doing very little and expending the least amount of effort possible.

Cynical? Sure. Im not saying there arent people who dont genuinely put themselves out for a good cause, but how many fun runs can you do before it stops being fun?

I think what it really comes down to is cost-effectiveness. How much of a difference does your involvement really make? Are the whales okay now? Did the starving Africans learn how to fish? Is racism finally over?

Perhaps Im being too cynical, if such a thing is possible. Good and honest folk did defeat apartheid in South Africa back in the day. Then again, no one plays Free Nelson Mandela by The Special AKA anymore, and its a banging tune, so theres always a cost to these things.

What do you expect me to do against a flying fucking armada? I think I only know that term because of the Spanish Armada which the Elizabethans defeated by pure luck. Feels like we were taught about it every year between the ages of seven and eleven. Perhaps this was my chance to use what Id learned from history to defeat my enemies in this alien land.

Step one: put myself in the shoes of Sir Francis Drake.

Step two: gather a crew of feisty English sailors who hate the Spanish.

Step three: ???????

Step four: profit.

If only I could figure out step three.

This is where you need to use everything youve learned so far, said Claire, still rubbing her nose which had turned purple. Were all counting on you.

Nothing like a bit of pressure to give you a spring in your step.

I havent learned anything, I said. You lot refuse to tell me what the hell is going on. Im not going to blow them up, I dont even know whos on those ships. The real Claire for all I know. Actually, maybe I should blow them up.

Im the real Claire, said Claire, convincingly irritated by my lack of derring-do. Sir Francis Drake wouldnt have made excuses, hed have shagged Queen Betty, jumped into the nearest galleon and sailed right up the Solent.

For a species that values free will, we spend a lot of our time doing what other people tell us to do. Its one of the reasons I feel there has to be a Creator whos responsible for all of this. Or maybe I just want someone to blame.

Theres a very clear carrot and stick methodology to our existence. Carrot and stick, by the way, doesnt mean dangling a carrot on the end of a stick to tempt the donkey (thats us) to move forward. It means you offer a carrot as a reward, you use the stick to beat out a punishment. They work best in unison.

Things we arent meant to do cause us pain, things we are meant to do give us pleasure. Thats a definitive counter to free will.

Someone decided what we should and shouldnt do without consulting us first, but acting like they did.

In the end, all forms of government are the same.

Im not someone who believes in intelligent design, either. Anyone with a modicum of sense can see the designer of the universe had no idea what they were doing. Stick everything in a pot and give it a stir is hardly a sign of genius at work.

Sex is part of that design. We are encouraged to have sex, to procreate (got to do it pro, no time for any amateur creating) as much as possible. Another clue to the nature of our originator.

I wouldnt be surprised if it turned out the entity who had given us life was Evolution, a being with many tentacles and hundreds of eyes, all of which were constantly meddling in our affairs, but only to make conditions as harsh as possible.

Survival through change and adaptation in a deadly environment, so we transform into something stronger, something better. Those who dont adapt, fuck em.

Evolution only wants the thing we are going to be, not the sad sack of wasted potential we are right now. Evolution is the disgruntled girlfriend who settled for the lazy boyfriend because she reckons she can get him to change into a top of the line executive with expense account and company car. Or failing that, get matching tattoos.

When you look at it like that, when you regard things that make you feel good as someone funnelling you towards a particular goal, and when things feel bad, someone steering you away, even if their intentions are benign, maybe even to your benefit (they arent, but lets pretend for the sake of argument), then you arent really making a choice. Youre following a plan, and it isnt yours.

Could still be a good plan. Could be a great plan. Not your plan, though.

I was getting the feeling I was being pushed in a certain direction and I wasnt convinced it was the way I wanted to go. It was towards the advancing armada which definitely didnt sound like where I would choose to be heading if I had a free hand in making my decisions.

Peter, you seem like you can be trusted, I said. Why dont you take point on this one?

Normally I would be only too happy to oblige, he said, but I feel that currently there are many unanswered questions I need to investigate.

This was hardly the time to start searching for the meaning of life, but I guess he had only just learned he wasnt the blue-eyed one hundred and sixteen year old he thought he was, and he needed time to come to terms with it.

We could arrange a big banquet, said Jenny. Invite them all to an assembly of the different factions.

My girl. Always had my back. Well, I say always. More like occasionally, but thats still pretty good.

Claire shook her head. Do you really think we can keep them busy until Flash Gordon makes it back? Assuming he ever does.

Why Flash Gordon? Who knew? Girls are terrible at making pop culture references. I know, Im being needlessly dismissive and belittling, but how else do you expect me to trick myself into feeling superior to anyone?

Look, its simple, if things get a bit awkward, just say, I am the Senate! and itll be fine, trust me.

They both looked at me blankly. Girls are also terrible at understanding pop culture references.

I was still flicking through Maurices notes, trying to decide if any of the instructions looked like launch codes. Maybe the pod emerged out of the ground like one of the Thunderbirds.

Go, if you want to go, said Claire. If this is the choice you think is for the best, then maybe it is. She walked over to a console and pressed a button. Its the last set of instructions in his book.

A hatch opened over our heads. A ladder descended with a soft purr.

Jenny looked concerned. I

You cant go with him, said Claire. Theres only room for one.

She spoke gently, like shed been through this already and knew there was no point in fighting. Which instantly made me suspicious. It was hard not to suspect this had been the plan all along and I had been tricked into thinking I was doing it of my own volition.

The last set of runes in the Notebook was called Save Maurice.

You cant keep second-guessing yourself, though. This had nothing to do with what anyone else wanted me to do. Maurice had set all this up, but it was up to me to choose my own ending.

I climbed up the ladder into a dark space. I tried to make a light but nothing happened. My beast magic wasnt working, but that was to be expected. The spire had had the same effect the first time I came here.

There was a tug on the bottom of my trousers and I climbed back down. Jenny was standing there looking sad.

I might never see you again, she said.

Were connected, I said. Ill find you.

She looked like she wanted to say more, but what woman didnt? I gave her a kiss and climbed back up. Peter waved goodbye. Which was fucking odd.

No point drawing these things out. I had a strong feeling that this was the right thing to do. The island was where Maurice had gone, it was where I would find answers.

I felt my way around and found a seat. I was able to crawl into it, although I may have been sitting in it upside down.

How do I steer this thing?

You dont, said Claire. The hatch began to close. Rather hastily. They all go to the island, thats what made Maurice go there. There had to be

The hatch closed and I didnt hear the rest.

It was pitch black and I had no idea what I was supposed to do. I couldnt see the book and I couldnt make a light. I left my body and floated about. In the adjacent world, the small chamber I was in was lit up with runes painted on the walls. I was able to open and look at the book.

There were fewer runes here and it only took a few minutes to activate them all. If this was a trap, so be it. At least it was convenient.

I returned to my body and the capsule began to shake. The top of the spire opened like flower petals and I could see the night sky which was all stars.

The shaking got more severe and I began to doubt myself. All my certainties abandoned me. I told myself this was the right choice, but I suspected I was a liar.

And then I shot into the air with a deafening roar as I recalled Maurice had worn a safety harness and I hadnt found anything to strap myself in with. Had he added them himself? Probably. I banged around the interior of the capsule.

The shaking eventually stopped and the flight path levelled out. I fell back into the chair and the world flew past me, or I flew past it. It was a surprisingly smooth ride and quite enjoyable. Until, that is, I saw the fleet of flying ships directly in my path.

I squinted to make sure, leaned back and lined up the differing trajectories, but yes, we were on a collision course.