Page 75 of Meet Me in Another Life

“What?”

“He told us. Don’t you remember? He’s been telling us, and telling us.You’re here.Since that first time by the clock tower, worlds and worlds ago.” Thora gazes into nothing. “The stars changed, and they stopped changing. We were traveling, and then we arrived.”

“Almost five years ago.” Santi feels the beginnings of panic, dizziness rushing over him. “So why haven’t we woken up?”

Thora’s voice is a command. “Peregrine. Wake us up.”

Confusion crosses Peregrine’s face. “Crew—cannot wake. In transit phase.”

“We’re not in fucking transit phase. We’re here.” Thora steps so close to Peregrine that a real person would reflexively step back. “Wake us up.”

Santi thinks of the memory house, a jagged spar clutched in Thora’s hand. He touches her shoulder. “Maybe we just need to ask him in the right way.”

“We shouldn’t have to ask him. He’s supposed to initiate it.” Thora spins, gesturing wildly to the blank panels at the other end of the room. “This room—it should be full of information about our mission. But it’s not ready, because Peregrine thinks we’re still traveling. That’s why it’s under construction.” Thora laughs, bitter and knowing, like she’s appreciating a clever joke at her own expense. “Listen to how he talks. Do you think they’d design an interface to work like that? He’s fucking broken. Peregrine, are you functioning normally?”

Peregrine looks at Santi, lost. “Something happened.”

“Something happened.” Thora steps closer again. “That’s what you said to me on the beach, when you collapsed. I thought you were having a stroke. But—you’re not a person. How could you be having a stroke?”

“Not a stroke,” Santi says. “A catastrophic error.” He remembers the beach, the way the ground shook like the city was coming apart. He looks at Thora. “There was a collision. I felt it. You felt it. Peregrine—the computer systems must have been damaged.” Dread is building in him, a claustrophobia that has nothing to dowith the walls of this half-darkened room. “He knows we’re here, but he can’t shift out of transit phase. He can’t wake us up.”

Thora stares into Peregrine’s eyes. “So what, you’re just going to let us starve?” She points at the video screen, her hand shaking. “Look at us. I thought the jumpsuits were baggy. But we’re fucking skeletal.”

Santi follows her gaze. His unkempt beard hides it, but now he sees it in Thora’s face: the unnatural prominence of her cheekbones, the pallor of her skin. It’s an uncanny contrast to the version of her that stands in front of the screen, vibrant and alive.

“The supplies,” he says to Peregrine. “Oxygen, food, water. There must have been more than we needed for the journey here, or we’d already be dead. How much do we have? Enough for the journey back?”Five years gone, so at least five years more. We’d be stranded until we found a way to replace them, but maybe we could figure it out—

Peregrine shakes his head. “Fuel and supplies for return—sent ahead. To planet. Crew—pick up—on arrival.”

Santi exhales. “All right. But there was a safety margin?”

Peregrine nods.

Thora snorts. “A safety margin we’ve been burning through for four point nine years.”

Santi ignores her. “How long do we have left?”

Peregrine’s face flickers. “One month.”

“In real time?”

“Yes.”

Santi turns to the crawling green line of the heart monitor. “How long is that in here?”

“Eight years.”

Silence settles in the darkened room. Santi thinks of the days,the months in the city that stretch between them and annihilation. It feels like forever and less than a heartbeat.

Thora shakes her head, marching past Santi toward the door.

“Where are you going?” he asks her.

She doesn’t turn. “I don’t know about you, but I need a fucking drink.”

They walk back across the river, the skyline a dark smear against the morning sky. The strangest thing is how real it still seems. Santi can know intellectually that he is walking through an illusion, and still believe in the breeze on his face, the gray roll of the water, the sounds of the city waking as they reach the bank and turn left toward the old town.

When they get to Der Zentaur, it’s still closed. Thora inverts one of the upended chairs outside and sits down. Inside, Santi sees Brigitta setting up. He waves at her. She taps her watch and shakes her head.

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