“What was that?” Seymour asked, from lightyears away. “We just suddenly registered a massive spike in your mental activity. It looked…it looked like you were dreaming.”
“Still awake,” she growled, struggling to form the words, “not sleeping on job.”
She heard an intake of breath before her father spoke.
“Joke.”
That was when she became aware of it. A sense of expectation ran through her, a flash of those old memories—father, first boyfriend, ex-husband, Poppy—and then something flared into existence before the prow of the vessel, a silent corona of light at the heart of an absence which was no planet, nothing but darkness, shadow, an absence of stars.