Dreamspinner Read online

  DREAMSPINNER

  by Merita King

  Published by Merita King

  Eastleigh

  Hampshire

  United Kingdom

  © Merita King 2015 All rights reserved

  Cover design by Merita King copyright 2015

  DREAMSPINNER

  This novel is a work of fiction. All names, characters and locations, are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this ebook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  OTHER WORKS BY MERITA KING

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  1

  Consciousness drifted towards him and with it, the awareness of the pain in his back. Once acknowledged, it drove him the rest of the way to wakefulness and as the dark void receded, he realised that it was his only awareness. There was no immediate knowing of himself and his place in the universe, no flood of memories to bring smiles, tears, anguish, or joy. There was just the knowledge that he was awake and in pain, nothing more. In those first moments before his eyes opened, his mind was empty, an aching void of silence both tranquil and terrifying. As his eyes flickered open, thoughts flooded inside and his soul rang with questions, all but one of which he had no answers for.

  “Where am I?” Hauling himself up into a sitting position, he looked around at his immediate surroundings, which loomed large from his vantage point on the floor. Not recognising where he was, this first question went unanswered. How he got there was the next mystery for which there was no explanation. Trying to think back in time, he searched for answers to these questions but with growing dismay, found himself strangely detached from the few memories and patchy grains of knowledge he did find. For one terrifying moment, his own name remained a mystery, but then it came and his anguished mind grabbed it as a child might grab at a favourite toy when frightened. “Lindo. I’m Tearan Lindo of Inter-Galactic Elite Command, Unit 389C4. That’s who I am. So where the fuck am I and why am I here?”

  He closed his eyes again momentarily, as much to calm his rising panic as with relief at remembering who he was. As he dragged himself to his feet, he frowned at the way his body seemed to drag, the way it took just a second too long to obey the commands of his troubled mind. “Have I been drugged or something?” he asked as he brushed himself off, then his eyes caught the name patch above the breast pocket of his grey and black jacket. “Lindo 389C4,” embroidered in pale grey thread met his gaze. “Well at least I got that right,” he muttered as he examined his pockets and found them all empty except for a single small flashlight. His sidearm was also missing and he cursed aloud, before turning his attention back to his immediate surroundings.

  A long corridor ran away from him at forty-five degrees to his left, while another identical one ran off at forty-five degrees to his right. A flutter of menace tickled his empty mind as he gazed down each one. The emptiness spooked him, the innate knowledge of his aloneness felt sinister and he shuddered. He had woken up on the floor at the intersection of the two, the wall curving around behind him revealing two doors. The walls and floor felt metallic to his touch and his boot steps echoed as he approached them.

  ‘Section 8b, Deck 4,’ in cheerful yellow letters decorated the wall between the two.

  “Okay. Deck 4. That means I’m on a ship of some kind. Ships have decks. Yeah, it’s definitely a ship.” The thoughts came quickly and were acknowledged by Tearan’s consciousness as he struggled to make sense of what had happened. Forcing his mind back as far as it would go, he frowned when he realised he had no memory of boarding a ship. Shaking his head with frustration, he slapped the heel of his right hand to his temple. “Think dammit, think.” No matter how hard he squeezed his eyes shut, there was no manufacturing any memories that told him where he was nor why he was there. The frustrated growl echoed down the corridor as he thumped the wall in anger.

  “Gas. It must be gas of some kind. A drug maybe. Yeah a drug is more likely. Gas or drugs can cause temporary amnesia. My unit obviously got caught and they gassed us or drugged us.” Such was the strength of this conviction that Tearan guessed he must have considerable past experience of similar situations. Whoever had done the gassing or drugging, whomever it was that constituted, ‘they,’ eluded him still. Pleased that he was starting to understand the situation, at least in part, he focussed his attention on the doors that faced him. Neither had anything that distinguished it from its neighbour, so he approached the one on the left and pressed an ear to it. The metallic surface was cold against his skin, but no sound emanated from within. The one on the right was the same so he decided to take the left first. Scanning the doorframe, he noticed the touch pad.

  “A swisher,” he whispered to himself. The nickname swisher refers to the noise these doors make when they open and close. “A swisher means this is a general access area open to all personnel. It’s not engineering; there would be noise and vibration if it were. It might be storage or something though, mess room perhaps.”

  Flashlight in hand, Tearan approached the door and readied himself for defensive action. Slapping a hand to the touch pad, he was on full alert as the door swished open to reveal a storeroom. Shelved racks filled the small room, each one laden with boxes and cartons of what he quickly realised were electrical components, wire of all sizes and colours, technological bits and pieces of every size and shape imaginable. Examining the cartons and boxes, he was dismayed to find that none of it was stirring memories nor feelings of familiarity within his mind.

  “So I guess I’m not an electrical engineer, he shrugged and was about to leave when a thought made him stop in his tracks. “This is obviously a storeroom used by the ship’s electrical engineers. That means engineering must be close by. They wouldn’t put an engineer’s storeroom too far away from where he does his job, would they? This is Deck 4, so I guess I can assume the main engineering section is on this deck too.”

  The room next door also opened by means of a swisher, and Tearan entered to find two offices. A quick examination showed these two rooms to be some sort of administration centre. Lists, rotas, manifests, requisitions, all the usual admin stuff one would expect for a busy engineering section of a large ship, it was all there. Unfortunately, Tearan found nothing that identified the ship or its purpose and groaned with frustration as he went back out into the corridor and considered the two options that lay before him.

  “Left or right?” he muttered and headed left after no more than a moment’s hesitation. The echo of his boots on the hard metallic floor was strangely comforting. Those steps had purpose and direction. Indecision melted away as his boot steps tick-ticked confidently along and he focussed his mind on the sound to keep the fear away. The vast emptiness within his mind where he knew memories should be, filled him with dread. Not knowing much more than his own name and occupation was the most frightening thing he had ever known. He stopped mid stride and frowned. “How th
e fuck do I know that’s the most frightening thing I’ve ever known? I can’t remember anything other than my name and occupation, that I’m thirty three and from Arlenika Prime.” Not finding an answer to this problem, he shook his head and continued down the corridor, his focus firmly fixed once again upon the comforting tick-ticking of his boot steps.

  After negotiating several doglegs, the corridor ended at another intersection. This one offered one door and a single new corridor that went at right angles to the one he had just traversed. The large double door was yet another swisher and Tearan looked at the four-inch high bright yellow lettering that adorned it.

  ‘Main Engineering – authorised personnel only.’

  The hour Tearan spent in the engineering section proved two things beyond doubt. The first was confirmation that he knew nothing about engines. Nothing held any sense of familiarity nor sparked memories of any kind and he dared not even guess at the function of most of it. The second thing that was obvious even to him was that nothing was working. There were no flickering lights on any of the consoles, no beeps or buzzers assaulted his ears, no vibrations tickled up through the soles of his boots. The place was cold, dead. In one area, several panels had been removed and bundles of wires, tubing, and piles of components lay strewn around the floor. He guessed that something was broken, being upgraded perhaps, then wondered why no one was around working on it. Maybe it was lunchtime or something, he mused as he wandered around, but then realised that something as important as a ship’s engine would be monitored constantly, not left alone. There would always be someone on duty, a rota system of some kind surely.

  “I guess if it’s broken down it doesn’t matter if they leave it by itself,” he said as he made his way towards the railing ahead. Peering over and down at the twenty-foot high bullet shaped structure, its immense size took his breath away. It was made of some clear material, the dirty green sludge contained within proving it to be dead. Shiny metallic tubes came out from around the sides of this huge canister, into the surrounding walls of the curved chamber. Tearan waited for several moments but as nothing flickered within the void inside his head, he shrugged and walked away.

  Back in the corridor, he continued down the new section and came upon a large workshop.

  ‘Section 8a, Deck 4,’ adorned the wall next to the door. Inside he found obvious signs of small-scale manufacturing and tool making. On one wall hung a large poster of a half naked woman with a bald head and pointed ears. Examining the printing along the bottom, he learned that her name was Casira and that she was from Demuay 3. Tearan was unimpressed.

  “That’s another thing I’ve learned about myself,” he muttered as he went back out into the corridor. “I don’t fancy the women from Demuay 3.” Another corridor revealed a room laid out like a meeting room or boardroom. Tearan surmised that whoever was in charge of the engineering section held their meetings here, discussed upgrade schedules, held staff interviews, brainstormed problems and all the things engineering people needed to do to keep a ship running smoothly. On one wall was a drinks dispenser so he wandered over. A stack of cups sat nearby, so he took one and held it under the nozzle as he stabbed at one of the buttons. For a second nothing happened and then he heard a hum as his cup filled with hot brown liquid. Lifting it to his face, he sniffed and then took a tentative taste. It had a tang of bitterness but it was not unpleasant and he drank it gratefully, unaware up to then how thirsty he was.

  The drink revived him and he spent the few minutes trying to come up with something resembling a plan of action. He knew his first priority must be to discover the location of any crew. Then he hoped to find out what ship this was, why he was on it, and its location. He already knew the engine was not working, which meant the ship was becalmed and drifting, but he needed to know the precise location in order that he call for help. It seemed sensible to get to the bridge and find out if the navigation section could offer him anything useful. This thought stirred something within his mind and he stopped, the cup held midway between the table and his lips.

  “How do I know that the navigation section will be on the bridge? I guess I know my way around a ship, even if I’m no engineer.”

  After draining his cup, Tearan set it down and went to walk away before once again stopping mid stride and turning back, eyes wide and mouth open as a surge of adrenaline coursed through his body. The second half drained cup almost went by unnoticed, and he now stared at it. The dregs in the bottom were cold but had not started to decompose. No mould decorated the surface of the liquid, and there was no smell coming from it, which told him that whoever had drunk the contents had done so within the past day.

  “I’m not alone here,” he whispered to the empty room.

  Finding evidence that at least one other person inhabited the ship gave Tearan hope, but dismayed him at the same time. Were they friendly or hostile? Should he try to link up with them or remain hidden? He knew he was part of a unit of soldiers like himself, Unit 389C4. Common sense told him that his unit buddies should be here somewhere. Dead or alive, they should be aboard. Maybe one of them used this cup. Rummaging in a draw, he found a marker pen and wrote on the wall above the drinks dispenser.

  ‘Tearan Lindo. Unit 389C4. Alive.’ Whoever had drunk from the cup was alive less than a day ago, and even if they turn out to be strangers to him, they might have useful information. He needed to arm himself as soon as possible, just in case they turned out to be hostile. Knowing that the engineering section had been empty minutes ago, he returned to the workshop and armed himself with a stout metallic rod. It would do until he found a gun, or at least a knife with which to defend himself if necessary. Feeling happier now that he had a means of defence, he headed back and continued down the corridor.

  The next intersection offered Tearan an elevator, a set of stairs both up and down, and another corridor. The corridor took him back to where he had woken up and he realised that he had done a complete circuit of deck 4. He went back to the intersection and tried the elevator. It was dead, which did not surprise him given the state of the engine, so he headed towards the stairs. On the wall by the stairs was a map of the ship. A bird’s eye view of deck 4 confirmed that he had seen all it had to offer, whilst a side view of the whole ship showed him that the vessel was comprised of eight decks. The bridge was at the top of the ship, on deck 1, so he started up the stairs. Six flights of stairs up, he puffed to get his breath as he stood outside the main door to the bridge. The door to the security headquarters lay to the right, and offered him a new sidearm with plenty of ammunition. Feeling much more secure now he was armed, he approached the door to the bridge and examined it. A pad on the left hand wall made him curse aloud.

  “Fuck, it’s a code lock.” Knowing how long it might take to try every possible combination of numbers and letters to gain entry, this approach was not an option, so he went back into the security headquarters and rummaged in the arms locker. With a nod of determination, he picked up the small magnetic gadget and went back to the locked door. After securing the gadget to the keypad with its inbuilt magnetic grip, the unit sends out short pulses of multi-phase voksel waves, which confuses electrical and digital locks in such a way as to over stimulate the circuits. This over stimulation makes the governing system think it needs to shut it down to avoid an explosion, switching off the locking mechanism altogether. All that is then required is to pull the door to gain access. Tearan did not want to call attention to himself by firing his gun when there was an alternative; the element of surprise was always to be preserved if possible. Using the stout blade he had picked up in the security headquarters, he forced the door aside far enough to get his fingers in and push it all the way open. It slid aside and he entered the bridge.

  A chill traced its way up Tearan’s spine as he entered the large empty space and faced the huge viewing window. The stygian void raced forward to envelop him and he felt the breath leave his lungs as adrenaline flooded his system. The sheer size of the viewing window meant t
hat by standing anywhere on the bridge and keeping your eyes fixed forwards, you could almost believe you were out there in space. Tearan felt the ship around him melt away as the vacuum of space embraced him, enfolded him, and carried him away. He floated through the void and felt a mixture of bone crushing fear, exhilaration, and awe. For more than a minute, he lost himself in the illusion, transfixed by the enormity of the universe before he found himself once again back in the eerily silent and abandoned bridge of the as yet unnamed ship.

  “Where the fuck is everyone?” he hissed as a shudder of apprehension raised the tiny hairs on his arms. Seeing the bridge empty like that gave him a feeling of vulnerability that had him hugging his arms around himself. With no pilot at the helm, no captain in the large comfy chair, no flight crew steering the vessel safely, Tearan’s mind filled with horrific images of the ship breaking up during an uncontrolled re-entry after being caught in the gravitational pull of a planet. For a moment, he was rooted to the spot with terror before shaking himself free.

  “Shit.”

  Scouting around the various workstations, he realised that whatever he had done in life, it had not involved piloting a space ship for the controls meant nothing to him. Not once did he feel anything stirring deep within, no blip of recognition in his gut. All the consoles, dials, displays, and readouts were dead and much of it was alien to him. More than once Tearan was tempted to flip a switch, press a button, turn a dial, just to see what would happen. Fear stayed his hand though; he had no desire to send the ship into a horrifying suicidal dance. The thought of the ship breaking up around him was too terrifying to contemplate so he kept his hands to himself. One thing he did recognise was the navigation station. Star charts and system maps had something inside his mind leaping with joy and he smiled as he studied them.

  “So I know how to read a star chart at least,” he muttered as he reached out and flipped a switch that he knew should tell him the name of the nearest system to the ship’s current position. Nothing happened and he swore as he flipped a few more, knowing that it was safe for him to fiddle this time. Deep inside his mind, his unconscious knew these dials and switches would not send the ship into a suicide nosedive, even if they did work. Not that it mattered as they were all dead and he banged his fist down onto the console in frustration. “What the fuck happened here? I can’t fix this on my own.” With a growl of irritation, he sat down and ran both hands through his hair. Primarily, he needed to understand the situation. There was no hope of fixing things until he knew what he was dealing with and the first step in reaching that understanding was a full search of the entire ship.