Free Guardians of Paradise by Jaine Fenn

cleared and looked around. The room still swam and sparkled, but that was a common shiftspace effect. At first he couldn’t see anyone else. Then he looked down.
     
    Taro was lying on the floor, curled into a tight foetal ball.
     
    Jarek hesitated. He was accustomed to the altered states experienced during transit, but he wasn’t used to dealing with other people while he was in the shift. He would always remember Nual’s violent reaction the first time she’d gone into transit with him.
     
    Taro, on the other hand, appeared to have gone catatonic.
     
    Jarek knew better than to bend down. Bodies got unpredictable in the shift, and moving your centre of balance too far or too fast was unwise. He slid off the sofa, momentarily seeing himself as an avalanche of flesh, before firmly shutting out that particular illusion. He landed next to Taro. The boy didn’t move and for a moment Jarek thought he might be dead. He reached out a careful hand to touch his back. The flesh felt warm, alive, but Taro didn’t react to his touch.
     
    He kept his hand where it was and called Taro’s name. His voice sounded muted, with a faint buzz to it - another shiftspace special - but Taro gave no sign of having heard him. Jarek hesitated, then put both arms around him. Though he had a good natural immunity to the effects of shiftspace - pretty much a prerequisite in his line of work - everyone knew of people who lost themselves completely in the shift, emerging irrevocably insane. He held Taro, saying his name all the while.
     
    At some point he felt a change go through the boy’s body and he realised Taro was saying something, over and over. It sounded like ‘They’re all dead, they’re all dead, they’re all dead.’ Then he raised his head and stared blankly at Jarek with no recognition in his eyes. He started to cry, the deep, unselfconscious sobbing of a much younger child. Jarek wondered if he should talk to him, but he had no idea what to say, so he just kept holding him while he cried.
     
    Even when the tears ran out Jarek didn’t move, though he could feel his legs going numb.
     
    Finally, normality returned.
     
    Taro gasped and pulled back, looking confused and embarrassed.
     
    ‘It’s all right,’ said Jarek, secretly relieved at how ordinary he sounded, how boring the world looked; he’d weathered another transit. ‘We’re out of the shift and everything’s fine.’
     
    ‘Is it . . . over?’ Taro croaked.
     
    ‘It’s over. I need to get up to the bridge now, but I won’t be long. I suggest you lie down because you probably won’t be good for much for the next few hours.’ He stood, and exhaustion, magnified by the usual shiftspace hangover, hit him so hard he almost fell. What a way to make a living , he thought, and hauled himself up the ladder.
     
    The core systems restarted without a hitch. As soon as coms were up and running he paid the additional tariff for making a flash-transit and informed traffic control that he was just passing through. Then he slaved his com to the main comp, instructing it to inform him if any other ships arrived in-system, setting the alarm loud enough to wake the dead.
     
    Taro had managed to get himself onto the couch and was dozing. He opened his eyes when Jarek approached. ‘I remember . . .’ he slurred, then tried again, ‘Was I . . .?’
     
    ‘Don’t worry. That kind of shit happens in shiftspace.’
     
    Taro’s eyes were already closing again.
     
    Jarek lurched off to his own cabin. He allowed himself six hours’ sleep, though he’d have liked twice that long. The alarm awoke him from a dream of trudging through mud in ill-fitting boots. He’d spent a lot of time doing that on Serenein.
     
    When he got up Taro was sitting at the galley table drinking caf. ‘You’re looking a lot better,’ Jarek said.
     
    ‘I feel it. Shiftspace is well freaky. Thanks for looking after me.’ He nodded to indicate his drink. ‘You want one?’
     
    ‘Yes.