Parallax
by John F Main

Free Excerpt (Part II)

  “This is it,” he said, spreading his arms to encompass the ship. “It was finished about four weeks ago, and has been going through extended flight testing since then. Raith seems to need it more than I do- I hardly ever get off-planet anymore.”
    The ship looked like a knife laid on the flat part of the blade, so it was very wide, but not very tall. Graceful curves on the top and bottom met at a sharp edge that bound the two halves together, and fanned out at the rear to form small wings. A quartet of engines peeked out of the rear to provide both space and atmospheric thrust. There were no weapons emplacements visible, but Laura knew the ship was far from helpless, and the lack of bulky, jutting cannon made the ship look very clean.
    Raith walked down the ship’s ramp, and walked over to Isaac and Laura. “Looks like everything is in place and ready,” he said. “We’ll be leaving in a few minutes,” he paused, and then added, “I can’t thank you enough.”
   “Think nothing of it. Just remember, I would like to see the ship back in one piece when you’re done, or I’ll have to take it out of your allowance.” Everyone laughed at the jab, then Isaac said, “Laura, go ahead and take your things onboard, I’d like to have a word with Raith.”
    Laura nodded and grabbed her bags out of the hovercar and took them into the ship. It was easy to find the living quarters, since when she boarded the ship, the bridge was up a split-level, directly behind her, and a short corridor extended in front. After a few steps, the bedroom doors were to her left and right. She placed her hand on the door on her right, and it granted her admittance. The lights came on, soft and dim, and she was halfway in the room when she realized Raith had already claimed it as his. She turned to her left to leave, and she saw a painting hanging on the wall.
    Laura looked at the painting of a man that hung on the wall in front of her. The man was old beyond reckoning, and his face held skin that was deep with wrinkles, yet did not sag off his face and chin. His beard and hair were very long, white and unkempt. His intense gray eyes stared as though they would burn through the canvas. A portion of his forehead was not covered, and on it was a red ‘x,’ that appeared to be a tattoo.
     With broken steps Laura approached the painting and saw a bronze plate affixed to the bottom of the frame. The inscription read: Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair! Laura looked again at the man- this time with a healthy dose of fear. The painted man knew only hate. His eyes burned with it, and it seeped from his pores.
     She hastened out of the room and stumbled into hers. As she sat on the edge of her bed, she threw her bags into the middle of the room, and then hugged her knees. My God, Raith. What are you doing to yourself?

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