Dreamspinner Read online

  ‘Day 1 – sections 1-70 – no visible damage.’

  With almost two hundred separate sections of engine housing to view through the special goggles, Mykus knew he would not be finished within another two days. If he worked three four-hour shifts each day, with an hour between each for a meal and a break, he would know definitively if the engine housing was faulty. If so, repair was out of the question. If not, then he would continue on to something else. His engineer’s mind was in full control now and he would methodically examine each section until he found the problem. When he did find it, he would know whether it was repairable or not. Right now, he needed a shower and a drink, so he returned to his room on deck five. A change of clothes would be nice too, he decided.

  As the hot water cascaded down over his body, Mykus allowed his mind to dwell on more abstract thoughts. What would he do if he could neither find nor fix the engine? What if he found himself stuck here forever? He decided there was no harm in doing an inventory of food supplies so he would know how to ration himself to make the fullest use of what he had. The thought of remaining aboard this becalmed ship, possibly for years into the future, scared him. Then he remembered the message left by Tearan Lindo. At least with a companion around he would not go crazy with loneliness, at least not as quickly as he would alone.

  “What if the guy’s a psycho murderer?” he mused aloud as he soaped himself. Not knowing which was worse, being totally alone or having to avoid a crazy psycho all the time, he decided to assume this T Lindo was trustworthy until he found out otherwise. He did not need the anxiety of worrying about it yet so he pushed it from his mind. Once showered and with a fresh set of clothes on, he wandered along to the kitchen and made himself a snack and a hot drink. Finding the vidicom screen not working, he turned his attention to one of the gaming tables and spent an hour shooting down pirates in a fighter ship simulator. When the yawns became noticeably frequent, he went back to his room, cleaned his teeth and went to bed.

  “Maybe I’ll wake up and find this has all been a horrible dream.”

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  3

  He awoke with a start, almost falling from the bed and rubbed his eyes. Light shined down from somewhere above, right into his eyes and he raised a hand to shield them from the glare. Raising up onto one elbow, he recognised his surroundings as a medical facility of some kind. Frowning, he searched his memory for an explanation as to how he got there but was terrified to find almost nothing within his mind at all. Swinging his legs to the floor, he sat on the edge of the bed and tried to make his mind think. He failed, so after running a hand through his hair and yawning, he stood and reached for the white coat that hung limp over a gurney to his left.

  ‘Dr Soval Arma.’ His eyes swept over the name badge sewn to the breast pocket; he did not want to wear someone else’s coat and confuse any patients. Besides, it was one of the few things he knew to be true. His almost empty mind knew for certain that his knowledge of medicine was substantial, but that was all he knew apart from his name, his age, and that he came from Arlenika Prime.

  “I seem to have amnesia,” he said aloud, putting a hand to his temple and massaging gently. Searching his medical knowledge for all the possible causes of memory loss, he went over to a mirror that hung on one wall. After careful examination of his face and head, he decided a head injury was not apparently to blame. There was no blood, no bruising, and no pain when he carefully pressed with his fingertips. An injury capable of causing amnesia to this degree would leave visible clues and their absence told him this was not the cause. The next obvious thing to check for was drug use so he wandered over to the blood filtration unit and switched it on. This machine takes a sample of blood and analyses it for any substances contained within it. They are standard issue in even the most basic medical facilities and he knew instinctively that he was completely familiar with its use. Ten minutes later, he knew that he had not taken any drugs capable of causing amnesia within the last sixty days. There were traces of recent sedatives and the presence of a high nutritional compound told him he must have been kept sedated for quite a long time.

  Knowing that various degenerative brain diseases can cause amnesia, he went over to the body scanner on the far side of the room and punched buttons on the console. Taking the mobile controller, he lay down and placed the neural helmet on his head. Twenty minutes later, he punched keys on the console and waited for the display of his brain function to appear. A few more key punches later, the readout confirmed there was no discernible degeneration of his brain that might cause amnesia. The only other possible cause for his lack of memory was some kind of psychological trauma and this was something he was unable to test for.

  “But if I had some deeply damaging psychological trauma, either in childhood or more recently, why did it not erase my medical knowledge?” he asked himself aloud. “It is essentially possible I suppose that my medical knowledge is so deeply ingrained that it survived the trauma. My troubled mind probably sought refuge in the order and discipline of that knowledge in an effort to survive whatever happened. Unless I can find my own medical file, I will never know until either someone tells me or my memory returns.”

  Assuming that he was a patient in this medical facility, despite being a doctor himself, he wandered around and called out for a doctor or nurse. “Hello? Is there someone here? This is Doctor Soval Arma; I’m awake and relatively unharmed apart from almost total retrograde amnesia. Hello, anyone?” He searched the whole room and realised that he was in a medical research lab. A door opened into a corridor that curved gently away in both directions. Stepping out into the corridor, he looked at the door through which he had come.

  ‘Medical Research, Lab and Scanning,’ was painted onto the door in bright yellow lettering. Smiling to himself, he wandered to his left.

  ‘Medical Bay.’ The same bright yellow lettering adorned the next door he came to and he frowned. “Medical Bay? That means this is a ship. I’m aboard a space ship?” He shook his head slightly in shock but did not know why he should react this way. Without bothering to knock, he entered and approached the reception desk. It took him less than a minute to search the medical bay and find it devoid of life. The examination cubicles, recovery ward, operating theatre, duty nurse’s bunks, and visitors waiting area, all were silent. Soval found it disquieting being the only person around in a place that should be busy with people and he shivered.

  Next door, he found an isolation ward with three more duty nurse’s bunks and not a single person anywhere. Further on down the corridor was the morgue, which gave him his second mystery. Not only was the morgue empty but the refrigeration unit was not working. Opening the large heavy door, he found twenty refrigerated pods but all were as warm as the other rooms he had been in. Not only were there no bodies in storage but whoever was in charge had obviously chosen not to be ready should any arrive. However small the chances of having a deceased casualty arrive in a medical facility, Soval knew that the facility for handling them should always be ready, just in case. For this refrigeration unit to be non-functioning was extremely odd and against standard medical practice.

  ‘Non-Denominational Place of Worship. This place of peace and tranquility is open to all who wish to use it for contemplation, meditation, and prayer. If you require assistance, the religious and cultural affairs team are available at any time day or night and can be found in the booth inside.’

  Soval read the notice. This was standard wording on space ship places of worship, where people from all different planets, cultures, and belief systems might very well be found. The wording was carefully constructed to extend a welcome to people of all religious beliefs who might wish to use the space. These rooms were simply furnished, deliberately devoid of any religious iconography that might visually tie in to any one particular religion above another. This was so as not to cause offence to those belief systems that might feel under represented. Paintings of peaceful landscapes, forests, mountains, waterfalls and lakes gazed d
own at him from the walls. Colourful birds flew in the skies and here and there, painted columns gave the room a more pleasing appearance. Fabric drapes hung between some of the painted columns and comfortable seating was plentiful. Soval delighted in the peace he felt rippling through his heart before leaving the room.

  Continuing down the corridor, he found himself back at the medical research lab. He had noticed an elevator and staircase by the main medical bay door, so he continued on. After pressing the button for the elevator, he assumed it was faulty and approached the map on the wall by the stairs.

  “So this is deck six,” he said to himself as he studied the map and noticed that the deck above contained the main kitchen and dining area, as well as proper staff quarters. Deciding that his first priority must be to try to find other people, he decided to search until he found someone. There was no way a ship’s medical facility should be empty of staff and with the morgue also being non-functioning, the weirdness level was way off the scale. Another person would make him feel more secure, even if they did not understand what had happened any more than he did. At least being with someone would lessen his anxiety.

  He found no one aboard, and only twice was there any evidence of other people. On deck four he found himself in the main engineering section and noticed several panels removed from machinery, revealing wires, tubes, conduits, and digital components. Tools lay on the floor, together with various bits of wire, lengths of conduit, and a box of blue metallic components. Someone was working on one of the machines, that was obvious, which meant a chance that whoever it was might still be around somewhere. Further along the same corridor, he found a meeting room, which he surmised was used by the engineering personnel and noticed drinks and snack dispensers in one corner. On the small table beside the drinks dispenser were two used and unwashed cups.

  ‘Tearan Lindo. Unit 389C4. Alive’ was written on the wall, and below it, ‘Mykus Romin. Engineer. Alive.’ Perhaps it was an inventory of people left after some kind of terrible tragedy. Patting himself all over, he discovered a pen and a standard medical issue hand held recording device in his trouser pocket. Perhaps it would be sensible to add his own name to the list, he thought. It would not hurt anyway and the other two people might be relieved to know that a trained doctor was alive among them. Lifting the recording device to his lips, he recorded his own greeting.

  ‘Hi there. I’m Dr Soval Arma. I’m a medical practitioner and I’m also alive. Anyone have any idea what has happened here?’

  After putting the device down on top of the drinks dispenser, he drew an arrow pointing down, underneath the two names. They would be able to convey much more information by speaking than writing, he thought to himself. There was also the possibility that by asking a direct question, he might find himself with some welcome company before long. Being the only person on board was not an idea he felt comfortable with and now it was evident that at least two people were around somewhere, he felt happier. There was always the possibility that they might work together to discover the cause of their current predicament, and maybe even find a solution. With this new mood of positivity trickling through his being, he allowed hope to course through the void that was his empty mind. The engineer was most likely to be the cause of the open panels and tools in the main engineering section.

  “A skilled engineer is always a useful member of any team,” he muttered, before turning his attention to the other name. He had noticed that same name written on the door of the security room on deck three, but had no clue exactly what the Inter-Galactic Elite Command might be. “It sounds military, so he’s probably a trigger happy grunt with the intelligence of a Cavindole Worm. No matter, we can put him to work lifting and carrying things. Failing that, he can prepare food. Military types are all taught to provide food for themselves, so he should be capable in a well stocked kitchen such as the one on deck five.”

  Now he knew that there were potentially just three people alive on the entire ship, he realised that there would probably not be too high a demand for his skills as a doctor. Suddenly at a loss to know how he would fill his time, he decided to spend some time doing a thorough inventory of the medical bay supplies and then draw up a cleaning schedule. It was not entirely necessary, but it would keep him occupied. Now that he had something resembling a plan of action, he headed to the stairs and prepared to descend. His foot halted in mid air and his heart leapt in shock as the sound of gunfire exploded from somewhere above. The open space of the stairwell acted to help amplify and carry the sound, which echoed as it drifted down to him. Freezing in terror, his doctor’s sense for details noticed something that he found interesting. The gunfire terrified him.

  “So I’m scared of guns eh?” he muttered in the brief respite between explosive volleys. “That’s not a surprise. I’m a doctor. My job is to preserve life, not endanger it further.” Another loud volley erupted, sending him into a huddled crouch on the floor, his hands over his ears in terror. Without warning, his mind suddenly filled with the conviction that whoever was firing the gun was out to kill him. Horror stricken, he leapt to his feet and spun around, certain someone was right behind him with a gun. Crying out in terror, he backed to the wall and found himself facing the door to the main engineering section. Fresh terror swept over him as images filled his mind unbidden. He was falling through the air, the cable that had held him safe now cut and sending him to his death.

  Crying out in fear, he watched the ground come up to meet him, heard the crunch as his bones broke and felt the wetness of blood as his skull cracked before the images changed and new horrors assaulted his mind. The woman’s eyes were wide with horror before him, her mouth open to cry out for mercy. Light glinted off the blade that sliced across her throat, cutting through her vocal chords and silencing her cries. Soval reared back in alarm, attempting to physically distance himself from this new horror that invaded his mind but the images stayed with him. Deeper and deeper the blade sliced until it came to a stop against her spine, the blood that sprayed from the wound soaking his face and entering his mouth. The metallic tang swept over his tongue and he spat involuntarily. Frantic hands swiped at his mouth and he spat. He spat and cried out in disgust and horror as the woman crumpled to the floor, her dead eyes staring up at him.

  As quickly as they began, the images stopped and Soval found himself still at the top of the stairs, his tears wet upon his cheeks as his shaking hands still wiped at his mouth. Examining his hands, he was relieved but mystified to find them clear of blood. His lab coat was white and pristine, not red and sodden as he expected and his frown deepened. Gasping to calm himself, he squeezed his eyes shut and sat down on the top step. “Hallucinations. That’s what it was, a hallucination that’s all. It’s not real. It’s just my mind trying to find itself again through the amnesia. It’s bound to happen and might continue for some time. I must be prepared for it.” Wiping both hands across his brow and through his hair, he waited for his heart to calm. “It was so real though, so real. Oh, what is happening to me? Someone help me please.”

  Soval decided to go down to deck five and make himself something to eat in the kitchen. He thought that by occupying himself with a task so ordinary and run of the mill his mind might recover quicker. Taking the large joint of meat he found in the meat stasis unit, he smiled. A few slices would make a very acceptable sandwich, he thought and reached up to a rack of knives. The blade sank effortlessly into the dark brown meat, but Soval was dismayed to see blood seeping from the cut and dripping onto the work surface. As his knife sank deeper, the trickle of blood became a strong flow that ran down the blade and dripped onto the work surface, forming a red puddle beneath the dish. Unable to tear his gaze away, he remained transfixed as the dark brown colour of the cooked meat paled until it was raw and red, the white skin that now covered it marked with his own bloody fingerprints.

  Leaping away in terror, he noticed a dismembered leg and recognised the rounded nub of bone where it had been ripped from the socket at the hip.
As he stepped back in horror, his foot banged against something, which sent him sprawling backwards. He braced himself for an impact and ended up face to face with the same dead eyes that regarded him at the top of the stairs a few minutes previously. With a cry of horror, he scrabbled inelegantly away from the woman’s corpse and covered his eyes with his hands. She still regarded him with dead eyes and he hoped the image was within his mind and not real.

  “Go away,” he screamed. “It’s not real, go away.” Forcing his mind to calm, he started counting backwards in sixes, then sevens, then eights. By giving his mind something concrete to do that would necessitate considerable focus, he hoped to prevent it from seeing the horrific hallucinations. Having lost his appetite, he decided to return to the medical bay and record his experience. In a closet in the research lab, he found another digital recorder like the one he left in the briefing room on deck four and sat down to record his experience. His record was concise and included not only the events as he experienced them, but his diagnosis as to their cause and how long they might continue. After searching the drugs locker for a sedative with which to calm himself, he found several substances that he might use should a patient present with similar symptoms and administered an injection of one of them into a vein in his left arm.

  Soval knew that he would feel a little drowsy within a few minutes, so he went into the medical bay, lay down on one of the beds in the recovery ward and closed his eyes. Pulling the blanket up to his chin, he tried to get comfortable. As he turned over, he felt something bump into his arm and opened his eyes. A shriek of horror echoed around the medical bay as he leapt away and fell from the bed, landing in a heap on the floor. Still screaming, he scrambled to his feet and backed away, bumping into the edge of the next bed along. The severed head lay on his pillow and he knew for certain it had not been there moments before. There was no way he would have failed to notice it no matter how tired he was. Still shaking with horror, he tried to force his mind under control but his nerves were shot and he sobbed in fear.