Dreamspinner Read online

  The gunfire was so loud and so close that Tovis almost jumped out of his skin when the first volley started. Every muscle in his body jumped and he banged his head painfully as a result. Swearing loudly as much for the pain as for the surprise, he hastily extricated himself from the body of the comms station and looked around the bridge, exclaiming in relief when he found he was alone. Dropping the tools, he took up his guns and crept towards the door. For long seconds he pressed his ear to the door, his hand pressed against the emergency door locking switch, not wanting whoever was firing to gain access to the bridge. If any gunfire should damage the bridge viewing screen, the resulting decompression would ensure there was no chance of surviving. The only space suits he had seen were down on deck seven and with the ship decompressing around him, his chances of getting down there and into a suit were so slim as to be non-existent.

  All the time he kept the bridge door locked, he knew he was safe. The door should be able to withstand all of the weaponry he had seen in the security room so he did not worry about being shot through the door. Only the lack of food, drink and a toilet made his stay on the bridge uncomfortable, and he was more than happy to stay there as long as necessary to avoid a possibly disastrous confrontation. Besides, that gunfire sounded haphazard, as though the hand on the trigger was one that was not well educated in the use of firearms. He had to endure no more than twenty seconds of silence before several more shots rang out at least one deck below, possibly two. It was difficult to tell exactly; it had been a while since he had been involved in a firefight on a space ship, and that one had been little more than a glorified shuttle. Deep furrows creased his brow as he listened to the sounds.

  “How did he get down there so fast? He’s maybe two decks below. Even I can’t get down there in that short a time.” Knowing that at least three more people were aboard with him, he briefly wondered whether one of them was pulling the trigger. Tearan Lindo was quickly dismissed as a possible gunman. He was military and therefore disciplined enough to know the danger in firing on a space ship in such a crazy manner. The engineer could be to blame, but Tovis knew how protective engineers can get with the machines they build and care for. They can become as attached to them as others do with people, or think of them as a child or a girlfriend. Many an engineer referred to an engine as, ‘she,’ so Tovis decided Mykus was most likely not responsible. It would be like shooting a lover. The third person was a doctor, and his job was to preserve life rather than endanger it, so Tovis was at a loss to work out which of them it was likely to be.

  “Anyone can go crazy I guess, so it could be either one of them or both.” Knowing that the longer he put off going to investigate, the more chance there was of the ship being damaged and that would endanger all their lives. Realising that he would have to go and sort it out, with deadly force if necessary, he checked his guns and switched his mind into working mode. “Time to party,” he muttered and flung the door wide. The corridor was empty, and Tovis gradually made his way out of the bridge, following the sound of the gunfire.

  To his left, right outside the bridge, the door to the security headquarters showed the tell-tale signs of laser pistol fire. The substantial security door had not been breached, but it was pock marked with blackened residue where it had taken fire. The black substance marked the surface of the door like the rays of a sun in a child’s drawing, each one accompanied by a small scoop mark in the centre, and Tovis counted seven shots in total. Whoever it was, wanted very much to gain entry to the security headquarters, but had failed and was now wandering the ship firing at random. Fear coursed through Tovis’s body, the kind of fear caused by the very real possibility of dying horribly in space.

  “I have to stop this asshole before he kills us all.”

  Making his way along the corridor towards the stairs, Tovis noticed holes in the walls and doors to all the senior officers’ quarters. As he approached the door to the senior officers’ observation lounge, his face suddenly paled as he remembered seeing another large viewing window. If that was damaged he was done for. His mind filled with horrific images of a crack, tiny at first, creeping its gentle way across the window. As it grew, its racing became faster as it hurtled towards the opposite wall whereupon a dull explosion sent it shattering into a million pieces and drew him, gasping, to an icy death in space. Standing outside the door, too afraid to enter in case the giant viewing window was damaged, hesitation rooted him to the spot. With a growl of anger at his own indecision, he shook his head and forced his mind to think clearly. “If the window was blown through, this door would not be able to withstand the force of decompression. The fact that it’s still here proves the window is still holding. It could be damaged though, so if I have to race downstairs and get into a suit, the sooner I get on with it, the better chance I have.” His heart in his throat, he entered and gasped audibly at the sight of the huge undamaged window, the stars twinkling back at him serenely. Back out in the corridor, more gunfire from directly below had him running towards the stairs The map informed him that the security room was the likely location of the gunfire and he allowed himself to hope that the gunman had decided to remain within the safe confines of the firing range. Hoping that while occupied with firing his guns in so haphazard a manner, the gunman may not notice someone creeping up on him, Tovis ran along the corridor and allowed the sound of the gunfire to draw him towards it like a magnet.

  Sure enough, as he approached the door to the security room, it became obvious that the gunfire was taking place at the far end of the room, in the approximate vicinity of the firing range. The main door to the room lay in pieces and the wreckage of a hover loader from the cargo hangar lay inside. The engine had blown up and the entire front of the vehicle was smashed.

  “What the fuck happened down here?” he whispered to himself as he approached. The gunfire was deafening as Tovis stepped gingerly over the broken pieces of the door and winced, the sound causing him physical pain in his head. Once inside the security room, he stole forwards in silence, like a cat stalking its prey. Before he had taken three steps, the gunfire stopped abruptly, making Tovis jump. Knowing that the cessation of firing might mean the gunman was on his way out of the firing range, Tovis ran on tiptoes towards it, readying himself to open fire the moment anyone came into view.

  The shadows were menacing as they hung in the corners of the firing range and Tovis was reminded of sinister images from childhood nightmares. In less than a minute, he discovered that he was the only person in the room.

  “Where did he go?” he whispered as he scratched his head, bemused. There was no way anyone passed him without him noticing, so either he was imagining things or there was some secret way out of the room that he had yet to discover. Before he began tapping his way along the walls in the search for a hidden panel, another volley of gunfire exploded nearby. The sound served only to deepen the furrows on his brow and he shook his head in disbelief. “What the fuck? That’s coming from below again. There’s no way anyone got passed me, went along the corridor and made it down to deck four in the time. There has to be more than one person.” Realising that he was very likely to be sharing an abandoned space ship with at least two gun-toting crazies, he swore again before exiting the firing range and making a swift but thorough sweep of the security room.

  Tovis ran along the corridor towards the stairs and noticed the doors to the gravity field generator room, and the life support systems control centre were both blown to pieces. Curiosity stopped him outside the remains to the life support systems control centre, the sound of gunfire pushed to the back of his mind for the moment. Reaching down to one of the irregularly shaped pieces of door that littered the floor, he touched the dark residue left by the laser pistol. Fresh residue would feel hot and sticky, but Tovis’ fingers touched cold metal and came away clean. Experience told him this meant the gunfire had taken place hours before, but he had heard it a couple of minutes ago. His frown deepened. The metal should be hot; it should burn his fingertips.
The black residue should still be syrupy and sticky. Shaking his head, he continued down the corridor.

  Gunfire rang out, the lofty heights of the main engineering section providing excellent acoustics to carry the sound throughout the entire ship. The door was intact and Tovis stood outside listening to the deafening roar within. On his initial tour of the ship, he had seen the huge bullet shaped engine and his heart sank as he thought of how it might react to being shot at. One thing he was not able to tell from the sound was where exactly in the room the gunman was standing. Squeezing his eyes tight shut, he thought back to his tour of the ship and tried to remember the layout of the room beyond the door. From what he remembered, the room opened out both right and left right inside the door, and the nearest cover was approximately twenty feet to his left. There was no option but to go in prepared to fight it out and try to find cover once he identified the gunman’s position. This was the one thing Tovis hated more than anything else; going into a firefight blind without an advantage the element of surprise afforded him.

  “Shit. I’m getting too old for this,” he muttered as he rolled his neck around and took a couple of deep breaths. Before he could talk himself out of it, he leapt towards the door, smacked a hand to the touchpad, and waited while it swished open.

  Tovis guessed it took less than six seconds to enter the room and dive for the cover of the console twenty feet to his left. He was halfway there when he realised the gunfire had ceased the moment he entered the room and peered out from behind the console, guns at the ready. From his vantage point, there was nowhere in that part of the room for anyone to hide without him seeing, so he carefully made his way to where the room went around to the right. Pressing himself against the bank of terminals, he peered around the corner and took in the whole of the long portion of the engineering section. At the far end, there was the mezzanine overlooking the engine bay and beyond that, part of the upper portion of the engine housing itself. In between, several consoles and banks of terminals offered many hiding spaces so he crouched low and dashed for the first.

  Bit by bit, Tovis made it the length of the room to the railing on the mezzanine overlooking the engine housing. The huge bullet shaped object soared up through the very middle of the ship, its tip lying two feet below the floor in the bridge, while it’s stubby cone shaped bottom ended just above the cargo hangar on deck seven. He was confused to discover no one in the room other than himself and shook his head in frustration. The possibility of some secret panel in the wall again crossed his mind and he did not dismiss it.

  “If someone is fucking with me to make me think I’m going crazy, they’re gonna be really sorry when I catch up with them,” he muttered as he moved away from the railing. A gasp was followed swiftly by a loud curse as he stood rooted to the spot. Approximately three times the height of a man above him and slightly to the right was a large hole the size of his own fist. Tovis was not an engineer despite his talent with electrical and digital components, but he realised that something about that hole was weird. With a hole that size, the engine should have blown up, sending him and anyone else aboard into the waiting arms of oblivion. Yet here he was, very much alive and staring at the hole.

  “That’s weird. Why haven’t we blown up?” Before he could begin to formulate an answer, Tovis realised he did not feel well at all. No more than a slight groan escaped him before he dropped to the floor unconscious.

  Tovis snapped awake and sat up in bed. It took almost a minute before he yawned, rubbed his eyes, and believed that he had been dreaming. He had always been a practical sort of man. His job needed him to be fully focussed in the present moment of reality, and philosophical things had never been of much interest. Consequently, he had never bothered to think much about his dreams, and most of the time never remembered them. This particular dream was so real though, so vivid. The experience was like real waking consciousness and his memory of it was total, not patchy like dream memories tend to be. With a groan and a shake of the head to clear the fuzz, he climbed from the bed and went to shower.

  After enjoying a light breakfast, he took the time to wash the crockery and cutlery and noticed another washed plate drying on the rack. Wondering which of his mysterious companions had been there, he put his own plate beside it to dry and went out into the corridor. Walking down the corridors and up the stairs spooked him after his dream. He half expected the residue of laser pistol fire to be visible on the walls and doors. When he climbed up to deck three, he gave in to his curiosity and wandered along the corridor to the security room. The door was intact and undamaged. With a resigned shrug, he went back to the stairs.

  An angry skewer of red-hot pain sliced through his skull and he swore aloud. This was the fifth time he banged his head on the edge of the console housing and he cursed the designers who had obviously made the ship to accommodate its midget workforce. Taking care, he gingerly extricated himself from the body of the communications station on the bridge and rubbed his head. He rolled his neck around and stretched his shoulders, wincing as the knots in his muscles pulled painfully, before shifting his ass into a slightly more comfortable position. Over the course of the next three hours, he followed and identified most of the contents of the comms station and found no obvious problems. There were three bits he did not recognise and no amount of frowning and head scratching gave him any ideas as to what their function might be. He knew that all the things necessary to make the communications system work were present and seemed to be without damage, but those three extra bits baffled him. Having his entire upper body inside the comms station housing was very uncomfortable and he lost count of the number of times he banged, scraped, and trapped various parts of his anatomy. After yelling in pain for the twentieth time from banging his elbow yet again, he decided the only way to examine the three components properly would be to remove them entirely.

  Twenty minutes later, he sat back and squinted as he held up the three components. In all his years working in the field, he learned to cannibalise all manner of objects for components and gleaned a substantial working knowledge of small component electronics and digitonics. Not once had he seen anything like the three small components he held in his hands as he sat on his haunches on the floor of the bridge and frowned.

  “What the fuck are these?” he muttered as he scratched his head with his free hand. No matter how many times he turned them over in his hands, no matter from which angle he peered at them, their probable function eluded him. Realising that his ass was becoming uncomfortably numb, he stood and walked around to get the blood flowing again. As he returned to the comms station, his mouth fell open in shock and his eyes widened. The orange light blinked once every second from the right hand side of the control panel and Tovis leaned in to read what was painted above it.

  ‘Ready.’

  The three small mysterious components lay heavy in his hand as he watched the blinking light on the communications console. For several seconds he stood quiet, his mind trying to piece together this new information. He knew without a doubt that he had not been able to get the comms to work before this moment, not even a small blinking light would function no matter what he tried. Now, with the removal of these three components, the comms system was telling him it was ready to transmit.

  “It must be some kind of inhibitor system,” he said as he stared at the three components, turning them over in his hands. “But why put an inhibitor on the comms? Surely you want to be able to call for help in an emergency don’t you?” Tovis sat down in the Captain’s chair and debated this new development aloud. He had always found that talking a problem through, with himself acting both sides of an argument or discussion, often made answers easier to find. He was intelligent enough to realise that the most likely reason for wanting to inhibit the comms would be if hostile forces had taken over the ship. Given that he knew of only three others alive apart from himself, this seemed a plausible explanation.

  “Maybe pirates boarded the ship and tried to take it over, but
one of the engineers managed to fit the inhibitor before they abandoned the ship,” he mused. “Or it could be a permanent but non-functioning fixture in normal circumstances. Then some emergency happened to them that made them decide to switch it on.” Weighing up all the possibilities, he decided that the latter was the most likely option. This still offered no explanation as to where the crew had gone or why, but it did help him to feel a little less paranoid about the whole situation. For the first time, he had to admit that maybe it was not a personal vendetta he was experiencing after all. Maybe he had simply been unlucky enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  “Just my damned luck,” he moaned as he got up and wandered back to the comms. Switching to the inter-galactic emergency channel, he recorded a distress call and set it to transmit on a continuous loop. It would save him from having to sit in the chair and physically make the call himself and would give everyone time to do other things while waiting for help to arrive. He was careful not to give his name in the message; he did not want to escape the ship only to end up in custody. Smiling to himself at having made this breakthrough, he went down to deck four and along the corridor to the engineering briefing room to leave a message for Tearan and the others.

  “Hi there, guys. My name is Tovis Kerral and I’m a survivor like yourselves. I managed to get the comms working today. There was some sort of inhibitor attached inside that prevented it from working. It’s really weird, I’ve not come across anything like it before. I’ve left it on the table here for Mykus to take a look at. Your engineering brain might recognise it. You might even find them in other parts of the ship. I listened to your messages by the way and I was wondering if any of you are getting your memories back yet? The reason I ask is because I have no amnesia at all, which is a little weird don’t you think. Why should I not have it when all of you three do? I am having weird dreams though. Anyway, maybe we should get together, we’d surely be stronger as a unit. I’ll keep checking out the security room and engineering and see if I can’t catch you guys there. By the way, I’ve set a distress call going on an automatic loop so we don’t have to continuously man the comms.”