Ariadne Read online

  For all the trapped

  Coffin

  Ariadne

  Vatic

  Velez

  Cereb

  Flesh

  Bridge

  Klund

  Cauterised

  Hospitality

  Pirella

  Blank

  Replaced

  Xev

  Keycard

  Guns

  Neo-Dawn

  Esta

  Glaxtinian

  Boyd

  Hydroponics

  Ripped

  Spread

  Aftermath

  Bloods

  Scream

  Airlock

  Giri

  Implant

  Snagged

  Empaths

  Bio

  Shereena

  About Ariadne

  Acknowledgements

  My Links

  Also by

  About K.J.Heritage

  PRESSURE PULLING at me, flinging me up and down, straining against my arms, legs and back. Spinning me around. I’m trapped, unable to move—like I’m tied to the mast of a ship in a raging sea.

  What the hell?

  I sense my consciousness returning, a light slowly growing in the distance. This is not waking up—I’ve been drugged. A powerful sedative is squatting in my system—I sense it as a cloying, swirling cloud. I focus my awakening mind upon the narcotic, directing it towards my liver, increasing my metabolism and sifting the offending chemical from my blood. Finally, I’m able to force back the shroud of darkness and open my one remaining eye.

  I find myself in a long, coffin-like box. But this is no burial, I recognise it for what it is… a one-man escape pod. I’m wearing my skinsuit, my breath magnified by a flimsy helmet.

  Everything is fuzzy. Whatever narcotic has been used on me has temporarily affected my memory.

  I twist around, releasing my arms, and I’m hit with a fresh burst of gees. The pod is on autopilot and struggling. I bring up the HUD and, within seconds, I’ve got the craft under control.

  I pass my eye over the readouts and baulk at what I see. I’m in hyperspace—no one launches a pod outside of normal space, not unless you have a death wish. The conclusion is a simple one—someone wanted to get rid of me. I’ve been drugged, placed in a pod and forcibly jettisoned.

  A beep on the com and a familiar voice. “Judging by the way that pod is handling, you must be awake. Good, I was getting worried.”

  A name slams into my frontal cortex. Stranng. And with that name, my memories come flooding back. The Company. Being snatched from my colony ship. The Zeta Karst labs and that goddamn lunatic, Frederix.

  “What the hell did you do to me?” The answer flashes into my mind almost immediately. Shereena. The ship’s over-qualified medic. She arrived at my quarters earlier—a smile on her face. I’d been too much of a sap to bother reading her. That’s what you get when you trust someone. And, of course, I’m cursed with vanity. I was consumed by nervousness and excitement—who doesn’t feel like that before climbing into bed with someone new? We were kissing and… she stuck a damn needle in my neck.

  “I’m sorry,” Stranng continues.

  I’m not physically close enough to read his intent but I know the man well enough to realise he doesn’t mean it.

  “Orders from above. Some damn Company grandee, even higher than your pay grade. Seems like they know what a son-of-a-bitch you are. That’s why we drugged you. To make sure you complied. I can’t say I was unhappy to get out of that airlock you imprisoned me in. Nor to get you off my ship.”

  I’m used to tight spaces… who isn’t? Even the literal ones like the one I’m presently in. Ship and habitat living is mostly cramped, but I’ve suffered worse. All due to those damn internment camps I was forced to grow up in—before the Company and its rivals decided to ignore Earth’s Decree of Genetic Manipulation. ‘Internment Camp’ was a pretty phrase for prison—and not that pretty. Where I spent my formative years with the other Skilled. Punishment for minor infringements was draconian. I spent days in the choky, a box hardly bigger than the ship I’m flying in. It made no difference that we were only kids, although I preferred it in there. To me it was a goddamn reward. I’ve always preferred my own company. No wonder I got into trouble so often.

  “If the Company wants me dead, why not just kill me?”

  “That’s the point,” Stranng replies. “The Company needs you to be very much alive. Although I don’t rate your chances.”

  I take in the information with little emotion. “Okay, give it to me straight. Why am I in this flying coffin?”

  “Because only small ships can manoeuvre in hyperspace without breaking up. It’s taken all my skill to get you this close. Everything was primed and operational in your pod before we booted you off the ship.”

  “Close to what?”

  “You’re to dock with another vessel.”

  “In hyperspace? Are you insane?” The only reply is static. “What damn vessel?”

  “Widen your nav-beams.”

  I do as he says, and I’m surprised to spot a blurred, fluid outline like an extended blob. All com-signals are compromised in hyperspace, yet I can tell it’s a design I’ve never seen before. Smaller and compact. I’m closing in on it fast.

  “That’s Ariadne. Some kind of experimental warship.” Stranng explains. “The fore-runner for a new fleet. Or so they hoped. The ship cut all coms and launched itself into hyperspace an hour ago and refused every attempt to contact her. Space knows what’s happening on board. But we received this message…”

  There’s a crackle over the com and then I hear the tell-tale emergency call-sign of a vessel in trouble:

  Mayday! Mayday! Mayday! This is the CS Ariadne. Urgent assistance needed. The ship has locked us out of all systems. Repeat. We are locked out of all navigational and control systems. Additional. Unknown agencies aboard have shot and killed—

  “Is that all? I don’t get it. The ship locked out the crew? How?”

  “Ariadne is a bioship. An organic computer is running the show over there.”

  “You mean they’re playing around with bio-computing? That’s supposed to be illegal.”

  “‘Supposed’ goes a long way with the Company. You Skilled were illegal once, remember?”

  I laugh through gritted teeth. A bio-computer can mean only one thing—the goal for computer consciousness is still alive and the Company has only gone and put one in charge of a goddamn warship. Nice. And if you’re gonna build an organic computer intelligence, look no further than the human brain. The only problem? Humans are not that reliable. It sounds like another mess of the Company’s making, a mess that I’m not motivated to solve.

  “And here’s the rub…” Stranng continues. “The Ariadne is heading for rival company space.”

  I know the Company inside and out. There’s no way they’d let one of their ships cross into competing territory. Especially something experimental with a cash value to the opposition. It’s that which concerns the Company grandees who put me in this position. “I guess your orders are to destroy the ship before she crosses over to the enemy, yeah?”

  “You’ve got just under two and a half hours, otherwise it’s boom-boom time.”

  “What the hell am I supposed to do over there? I’m only one guy, even if I am a Skilled.”

  “I’m sure you’ll figure something out. Your type always does. Perhaps they want you to talk the ship down? Who knows or cares? I just follow orders. I’m also to warn you that there may be rival agents aboard or even terrorists.”

  “Terrorists?”

  “The Company has tried to keep what I’m about to tell you hush-hush. There’s been a spate of high-profile assassinations over the last few months. Grandees
and VIPs. Some say there’s a new terrorist group responsible for what’s been happening. They call themselves Neo-Dawn. And, as it happens, there was a VIP event on board the Ariadne before this ass-mess kicked off, so watch yourself over there. It’s either a malfunction, sabotage or a full-out hijack. Either way, you’ve one job and one job only. Stop the damn ship and pull it out of hyperspace.” Stranng laughs down the com. It ain’t a pretty sound.

  “And what if I refuse?”

  “You don’t exactly have a choice.”

  “How did I know you were gonna say that? The Company must be desperate. The chances of successfully docking a ship in hyperspace are—”

  “You’re the resourceful type… so I’m upping your odds to one in ten.”

  “That optimistic huh?”

  “I’ve never heard of it being done before and no skin off my nose either way. You’ll find a programmed wafer stuffed down your skinsuit. See it as a goodbye gift.”

  “You’re all heart.”

  “Remember, you’ve just under two and a half hours to get the job done. Midnight, ship’s time. Or thereabouts. I’ll leave it to the last second—you have my word on that. But you’ve got a bigger problem. You must first dock with the Ariadne to get aboard. Another reason why the Company chose a Skilled—a mere human wouldn’t stand a chance.”

  “It’s always nice to be wanted. Anything else?”

  “Nothing much. The wafer also comes with a complete ship’s roster. There’s forty-three souls aboard.”

  “And that’s it?”

  “Maybe the Company isn’t comfortable sending you any more info. Or maybe that’s all they could manage in the time frame. Make the best of it. You’ll be passing out of com range any moment. You’ll be on your own.” A pause. “Good luck…. You’re gonna need—” A crackle and Stranng is gone.

  “Thanks.”

  I take a look at the navicom. The blob of the bioship is getting nearer. I’ll have to fly in close using sight rather than instrumentation. Stranng wasn’t kidding when he gave me a one in ten chance. These pods are difficult enough to manoeuvre in normal space. I’m not sure my piloting skills will be up to the task. Luckily, I’m a whizz on the stick. If I’m gonna survive, I’ll need a big slice of luck. I decide to shorten the odds. I increase blood flow to brain and hands and, immediately, I can hear the reassuring thump of my heart in my ears.

  All ships in hyperspace create a wake around them, like the disturbed air behind any atmospheric vehicle but significantly worse. The closer I get to the Ariadne, the more wake I will experience from her. Any fluctuation that I can’t account for will send me careening away—or even kick me back into regular space. Either way, my pod will break up instantly…

  My fingers dance over the primitive control panel—making constant adjustments and realignments. I boost the engines and gently edge closer to my target, bringing up the pod’s external camera and I see the Ariadne for the first time.

  Stranng was right. She ain’t a normal looking ship. The Company is all about cheap, mass-produced modules. Different components bolted together with no thought for aesthetics. The Ariadne is curved and stylish, although I’m too close to see all of her. The Snag Drive array is what surprises me the most. It spreads out from the Ariadne like the legs of a spider. I’ve seen this configuration before. It’s not normally used on military ships. The array is too vulnerable to attack, although it’s fast and the most stable design for hyperspace. I have no time for contemplation. No matter how pleasing she looks, the Ariadne is creating quite a wake. With no schematics, I’m blind—her docking bay could be anywhere. I slow my speed, allowing the Ariadne to pull my pod along behind her and, using only the view from the distorted camera feed, I search the smooth, elegantly proportioned ship for a way inside.

  And there it is. The cargo dock. A small opening in her stern.

  My heart lurches and I have to concentrate hard to reduce its insistent beating. Flying this close to a ship in hyperspace is akin to suicide. The only chance I have is to line up the pod, hit the engines hard and try to punch my way through Ariadne’s swirling wake.

  And if I should make it?

  How in space am I gonna stop from crashing? Whether I get inside the cargo dock or not, this ain’t gonna be pretty.

  I work quickly with the navicom, superimposing the lines of the hyperspatial wake over the crackling camera feed. They ebb and flow—like storm waves slamming into a rocky cove. Every now and then there’s a lull. A repeating pattern. It’s what I’m looking for. I watch and wait, knowing I’ve only got one shot at this. I must hope my prediction of the next lull is correct.

  My heart wants to beat faster again. This time I let it thump away, sending a signal to my adrenal glands to flood my bloodstream with the adrenaline I’m gonna need to make those precise, speedy manoeuvres. The last wave in the repeating cycle swirls through hyperspace and I punch the engines. I’m slammed by many gees, the adrenaline giving me the energy and the power to keep my hands over the controls, while the Ariadne grows on the screen.

  The docking bay is only a couple of hundred feet away.

  I’m gonna bloody well make it.

  I wait to the very last moment. The pod enters the bay and I hit the reverse thrusters, slamming me with even more gee. Lights swirl in front of me. I push more oxygen and blood into my brain and try to steer the pod to a stop.

  Shit!

  I’m going too fast. The inner hull of the Ariadne flies towards me and I smash right into it.

  I PUSH my eye open and my mind is punched with a hard fist of terror mixed with pain, and something akin to madness. A swirl of out-of-control emotions trying to thrust themselves deep inside my mind. Invasive, powerful, and all-consuming. I’m under attack from another Skilled—but like no Skilled I’ve ever felt before. The emotions are too raw, too unhinged, and reckless. I bring up my wall just in time, the barricade I use to isolate myself from other empaths. It’s a struggle. Like trying to dam an angry, storm-ridden sea. Somehow, I manage to push it back, to hold my ground. I slowly drive those feelings out of my mind until there’s nothing left behind except a single word…

  Ariadne.

  I take a few calming breaths. I’m shocked but okay. I can still feel Ariadne pushing at me, but now those emotions are muffled and distant and I can see them for what they are. This was no attack, but a dreadful scream of empathic madness.

  What the hell did the Company do here?

  There is only one conclusion that makes any sense. Ariadne, the bioship’s brain, is an empathic entity like me. A Skilled, or some distorted version of one, but broadcasting on a more massive scale.

  I need to find out more about Ariadne, about what happened here. To do that, I’d have to let the ship back inside my head and that ain’t gonna happen again soon. Not if I want to preserve my sanity. Besides, keeping her at bay is sapping at my strength. Like trying to hold up a block of crushing granite.

  Stranng gave me to midnight to solve this thing. I’m not sure I can resist Ariadne’s powerful mind for that long. I now get why the Company wanted me aboard…

  Using a Skilled to catch a Skilled.

  Taking a few soothing breaths, I reassess the situation. I’ve still got a job to do and the quicker I do it the better. Ariadne or no. I force my mind to concentrate on where I am and what I’m doing. On the smashed pod’s readouts—which are all flashing red.

  I do a quick damage assessment of my own systems. No broken bones or internal injuries, although I have a lot of non-essential tissue damage. My helmet readout tells me my oxygen is in the amber. I don’t have that long before my air is gonna run out. I need to get inside the ship asap.

  Still… I damn well made it.

  I imagine Stranng’s consternation. He can’t know I survived but even his compromised readouts would tell him I got inside the docking bay. That’s one in the eye for him. The bigger danger was from Ariadne herself. I doubt he knew what he was sending me into.

  I jettison t
he pod hatch, helped by a few kicks, and drop heavily on to the floor. I’m still full of adrenaline and, behind its haze, I can feel a growing ache. No matter how much the pod protected me, high-gee impacts are not to be sneezed at. It’s gonna hurt and hurt bad. I tune down my pain but not enough to numb myself. Hurt is a motivating force and besides, it’s my early warning system.

  I stand on shaky legs. I’m still emaciated after my time spent in hypersleep before Stranng ‘rescued me’. I’m functional… just. I’m met by a scene of devastation. Two battered and smashed transports lie in pieces. Bits of their internal components scattered about the docking area like the aftermath of a tornado. One side of the bay is scored by the impact of my arrival. Where the pod slammed into it, I guess—now a crushed, battered mess. I’ll say one thing for the Company, their escape pods are better designed than their ships. They’re usually only accessible to those with suitable rank. Self-preservation is very important to the Company, for those certain, important few that is. Hence the advanced dampening field stopping me from being pulped by all those gees of impact.

  The possibility of a ship crashing into the cargo bay is not one the Company or any organisation ignores. The inner airlock is accessible via a sturdy, blast and crash-proof bulkhead. This ain’t no basic shield—it’s covered with something I’ve never seen on a Company ship, a beautiful etching of a vast spider sitting within an intricate web. The ship I glimpsed from hyperspace.

  Ariadne.

  A goddess from Greek myth. She oversaw the sacrificial labyrinth wherein lurked the Minotaur. I’m no Theseus, that’s for sure. If I have to slay a beast with the body of a man and the head of a bull, I’m sure gonna be pissed. In comparison to what the Company has done here on this bioship, the myth of the minotaur is small beans.

  If there’s any monster aboard this ship, it’s Ariadne herself.

  I shake my head and enter the airlock. The heavy outer-hatch slides shut behind me. I punch the recycle. Nothing happens.

  Huh?

  I punch it again and still no reaction. There’s no way the pod caused damage this far inside the ship. The airlock must’ve been shut down, deactivated intentionally. Alarm bells sound in my mind. With what happened with Ariadne’s disturbed mind, I forgot what I was getting myself into. If I can’t get inside the ship, I’ve no chance of solving what’s beyond the airlock door and no chance at surviving longer than the air left in my suit.