Guardians of Paradise by Jaine Fenn

usual human level of empathy, Jarek thought they were both thinking along the same lines: their shared transit experience had given them the beginnings of a bond, and with Nual unconscious, they were as independent of her influence as they’d ever be. Yet they still loved her, both of them, in their different ways. He had no idea if that observation came from true objectivity or was just a comforting illusion.
     

CHAPTER NINE
     
    Jarek was right, thought Taro as he watched the formless blobs of nameless colour amble through his vision: shiftspace wasn’t so bad when you got used to it. This was his third transit; according to Jarek, three back-to-back shifts should ensure they’d lose any possible tail from Khathryn.
     
    He remembered - vaguely - that he’d gone well gappy during the first transit. Jarek didn’t mention it afterwards, so Taro decided not to stress about it. Truth be told, he felt a little better for letting some of that shit out.
     
    For the second transit he’d snorted a bit too much of the happy-dust, and all he recalled now was grinning till his face hurt, and some odd dreams about body parts dropping off. To his embarrassment he came out of it to discover he’d pissed himself. Jarek said that happened sometimes if you over-medicated and got a bit lost so Taro decided to ease back on the inhaler in future.
     
    This time the transit wasn’t much worse than a smoky trip. The coloured blobs smelled surprisingly nice, except for that last one, which was a bit like shit burning. Taro considered asking Jarek whether there was any shit on fire around here, but he found he’d lost the ability to speak. He’d best just assume there wasn’t. After a while the smell went away and the blob morphed into a giant floating head which expanded until the features were stretched absurdly tight, then burst in a shower of petals.
     
    The trick with transits was to remember that this head-fuck was something that would pass, like bad drugs, or a nightmare: it was weird shit, maybe even nasty, but it wasn’t dangerous. Even so, he was relieved when it was over. He resisted the urge to sleep off the after-effects, though three shifts in quick succession left him pretty trashed, because it was finally time to wake Nual up.
     
    He waited by the comabox while Jarek sorted the controls and she came to. It took ages. She finally emerged groggy, but unharmed.
     
    ‘You all right?’ asked Taro. She looked a bit pale.
     
    ‘I’m fine,’ she said, ‘and I remember nothing of being in shiftspace. How did you cope?’
     
    ‘Oh, it was a bit smoky at first. We made three transits while you were out, so I’m a veteran now.’
     
    Back in the rec-room, Jarek fixed them some caf and food, or what passed for food now the ship had run out of fresh supplies and they were relying on recycled flavoured gloop or freeze-dried rations. Nual insisted on clearing up afterwards. Taro watched her from the table, glad she was awake and unharmed.
     
    Jarek stood up and said, ‘I need to get some sleep now, and then we’ll wake our guest. He should be more or less healed by then, and able to answer a few questions.’
     
    Taro had almost forgotten the pilot from the Sidhe ship, who was still lying, totally out of it, on the couch by the wall.
     
    ‘You might want to get some rest too,’ he said to Taro. Then, to Nual, ‘I’m guessing you’re not tired. Will you be all right by yourself?’
     
    ‘Now that we won’t be making any more transits for a while?’
     
    ‘Yeah.’
     
    Nual looked at him oddly. ‘What is it, Jarek? What is it you need to say? I’m trying not to read you, but your mind is full of this thing whenever you talk about shiftspace.’
     
    Jarek expelled a low breath and sat down again. ‘I should’ve told you earlier, but the time wasn’t right. Actually, it’s probably better I didn’t mention it before, for Taro’s sake; it’s not something you want to think about during your first