Lost Solace, #1 by Karl Drinkwater

Author:Karl Drinkwater
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: sci-fi, action, horror, thriller, spaceships, aliens, artificial intelligence, science fiction
Publisher: Organic Apocalypse
Published: 2017-10-30T16:00:00+00:00

Distracted

< 15 >

THIS WAS A RECREATION area. Rows of dusty gambling screens separated the large room into silent aisles. She wiped a hand over the side of one machine. There should have been writing and pictograms, listing the payouts and odds, but these were just coloured smudges as if wet spray-paint had run in the rain. As usual, nothing lit up or showed life. The machines could be waiting, or dead. It all seemed the same thing on this ship.

She walked on some kind of carpet. Puffs of dust or spores rose with each silent footstep, then sank back down like sediment, hiding all signs of passage. A mixed blessing, maybe.

She peered round the final bank of screens. Nothing waited to ambush her, despite the constant feeling of being watched that made the hairs of her neck rise. The gambling machines would give perfect cover for a pursuer.

“Suit, you there?”

“Of course.”

Clarissa’s voice again. Opal hadn’t been sure if the subsidiary AI offshoot would get wiped when she re-established communication with her ship AI. Apparently not.

“Just checking. Talk to me a bit.”

“What should I talk about?”

Opal reached the rear door that should lead through a casino room towards the corridor she needed. She bent down, gripped the handles and lifted.

“Anything. Music, weapons, motorbikes. I just want to have some company. It’s lonely in here. A voice in the ear isn’t as comforting as a robot companion with weight and solidity and big guns ... but it’s something.”

Strands of flailing tissue lined with barbs lashed around her ankle under the partly-raised door, yanking and almost pulling her over. The HUD filled with warnings and Opal pushed down on the door, but it was too late; thicker bundles of flesh burst under it too, bending as if interior bones spasmed while pincer-like extrusions bubbled through the surface.

Opal activated the wrist blades and began slashing to free herself, but more strands had already slid around her calf and attempted to crush the armour. They were close to succeeding, according to the red damage warnings in the HUD which highlighted the leg area. These muscular cords were strong.

Even greater mass beyond the door pounded against it, shaking its frame; Opal cut through enough strands to yank her leg free but the other was now tangled before she could retreat, and the door rose as the bulk pushed underneath it. The blades were sharp but each severed cilia was just replaced with others.

“Ideas!” she yelled.

The suit’s AI discharged an electric field, sparks flying and smaller tendrils crisping: the fibres loosened slightly.

“The blades are electrically charged now too, may do more damage,” it told her in a hurried fashion. Opal had no real idea what shape the creature took but she knelt and thrust one arm under the door and upwards, to the place where the bulk of the thing dangled, and it worked: the blade scraped on something hard and bony beneath a surface of tough skin, watery fluids pouring down to steaming puddles on the floor, buzzing flares of electricity, some kind of screech of pain or anger.

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