He studied the wood’s curious grain
while his blood speckled its polished surface.
He could only partially see it from his awkward position as
he lay crumpled on top of it. He tried to move his head as he studied the
grain, but a sharp pain that seemed to come from below his neck kept him from
making much more than a wobble. The room spun as the pain penetrated his skull,
wavy red swirls.
It took a
long while before he could form a cognate thought again. The room stopped
swimming and he found he could breathe again. He coughed violently and more
blood flew to speckle more of the wood grain. The detail of which stood out
like canyons to him and his mind began to hover above their hidden depths. His
left eye blinked at some invader that made it twitch sharply. Finally it
stopped and the rough grains stood out again in rich contrast to his dark blood
that was sprinkled about it like tufts of red grass sprouting on its sides.
His
contemplation was interrupted as a shadow fell down over the scene. He
involuntarily looked up to see what blocked out the light. A man’s bulk stood
against the lights in the ceiling that lit the small room. Whereas the wood
grained floor had intimate detail, the man had little. The man looked down at
him. He struggled with the face to put a name or even some recognition to his
features. What he could see of the man was dark hair cut short and a sharp,
severe face that reminded him of a holo-vid from the distant past that had
inaccurately described the future, his present. The point of recognition failed
him as a new burning filled his body although it seemed detached from his own
awareness.
“Morgan.”
The man spoke in a dull voice as he
looked down at him and shook his head sighing deeply. His name was Morgan.
Why didn’t he remember that? How
long had he been lying there bleeding? Why couldn’t he remember anything but
the blood and the wood? There was something about the wood wasn’t there? Morgan
marveled at the richness of the wood again seeing its groove and shape. Then
pain exploded into his thoughts breaking his concentration.
He tried desperately to remember anything from before that
moment. He only found that his mind was clouded and thick with cotton, cotton
candy? No, that wasn’t right. What had he been trying to think of?
A voice
spoke outside of his head and he blinked and water slid from his eyes. His
vision refocused on the man who towered above him. The man had said something
but it had been too far away to hear. He stood there with his hands on his
hips. He was clothed in some kind of black jumpsuit and boots. Boots with
blacks straps and a rough surface that caught highlights of light. Light from
the hallway, a door had been opened. Then someone else spoke.
“Is he?”
A woman’s voice.
“No, not
yet, but he will be soon enough.”
“Oh. I just
thought…“
“Thought
what?”
The man looked back over his shoulder- at the door.
“That he would have survived this?”
The man began to laugh, slowly and
softly at first but it grew in loudness and size until his body shook. The
sound of his bellows echoed in Morgan’s head and then as suddenly as he
started, he stopped. The man turned away from Morgan and walked away.
“He will be
dead soon.”
His voice was flat, very flat. Even
when he laughed his voice had sounded flat- like he was artificial. Like he had
forced himself to laugh and when it was not time to laugh anymore he stopped.
The footsteps faded and the light flashed off. Morgan had been left to die in
the shallow light alone.
Time
passed, as Morgan faded in and out of consciousness. He no longer felt the
pulse of pain in his legs. In fact, he could not feel either of his legs. He
thought of his arms then and was surprised that he had forgotten them this
whole time. He tried to remember how to use the arms but nothing came to him
and nothing happened. For awhile, he pondered the distinct idea that he was
dead, but then he coughed again and the wet splatter of blood hitting the floor
confirmed that life was still with him.
He tried to
focus on the wood grains again but the room had grown darker. Was it night? No
time came to him, nor could he recall what place he was in. he breathed deeply
and pain rumbled through his parched throat and he felt his tongue in his mouth
and the bitter sweet taste of blood.
Then the
room changed.
No, change was not exactly the
right word, maybe it would be better to say it shifted. Morgan noticed that
some of the fresh blood started to drift as if to run away from where he was
lying. Pressure built up in his body and he felt a pull above his head as the blood
began to slowly move in that direction. He watched in morbid fascination as it
resisted movement then surrendered to the pressure and slid away gaining speed.
Then he began to slide on the floor. New pain fired up and his vision went
white and then blackness faded in quickly.
He dreamed.
The new
star-craft straddled the tarmac of the space port like a mutated spider that
had been stretched out long and thin. It’s silver and black skin shone in the
sunlight all gleams and glows over its nodes and curved pods clustered close
together. Its spindly landing stilts spread out in leg fashion displaying the
crafts awesome ability to land almost anywhere and retain absolute stability.
Other star and space-craft sat nearby but none had the grace or sleek lines
that this one possessed. They were boxish and bulky jumbles of rough steel that
looked slow and cumbersome when compared to the sleek craft.
The craft
was his; he owned and captained her across the space between the planets of the
inner sphere. He had called her Arachne recalling the old myth he had loved in
form school. Arachne had made him rich and very proud. The spider motif had
struck him when he had first seen her in the berth as Star’s Finale Shipyards in
the Outer Rings. The limb-like landing stilts had been extended and clustered
around the docking pipe like that of a spider, although the body had been more
like that of a very bumpy dolphin. She has been the best of her line of Mercex
38000 series. With all the finer finishes that came with luxury crafts, central
plane gravity, auto-helm, slipstream drive and auto-crew. It was made to be the
ultimate and all inclusive one-man pleasure cruiser.
Of course,
that had not been enough for him; he had pulled the veneer plasmacast decks and
replaced them with a series of organic materials sealed in maxy-plex. He had
gutted the central holo-vid suite and exercise area and combined it with the
small hold making it into one large hold instead. Then with the sufficient
bribes and blackmail got her license changed to mercantile zones and went to
work into the trade of specialty shipping. The ship’s speed and landing
abilities had made him an instant success and very rich. He looked at his
spider very lovingly now remembering the long hours he had spent overhauling
her innards. In order to avoid military involvement he had avoided placing
visible armament. Relying on her speed and maneuverability to out fly and
outrun any trouble.
He moved
towards the craft and raised his had to stroke its hull when the dream abruptly
ended in a shudder. His eyes opened and the room shook as a metallic squeal
brought him back to his present. Was he on the ship of his dream? Familiarity
played on the edge of his memory but the room in which he lay in a heap against
one wall would not hold in place. His leg was in a better spot, both of them
were. He could see them now. He realized that he must be sitting up partially
as they were spread out in front of and slightly below him. Then he realized
the blurry hump that blocked most of his view was his chest and stomach. He
could almost feel the grain of some fiber under his chin. My head must be
sitting on my chest he thought, repetitively.
The room
shuddered again and then in an almost imperceptible motion he felt himself get
lighter. Curious, he felt a breeze then bits and drops of his blood floated out
into his field of vision. He knew that he, too, had left the surface and
floated free out into the space of the room. His body tilted into a limp puppet
position as its mass shifted and re-centered. A random thought came to his
mind- they have hit the slip drive.
Who? Who were they?
The slip drive was the device that
drove a star craft into slipspace and held the center of gravity at the core of
the starcraft. Spacecraft had to have a centrifuge or a spin section for
gravity, but star-craft had the ability to generate a central mass
gravitational field. Slip drive technology was new in terms of travel, mostly
in the details that it was smaller than the bulkier star-drives and consumed
less fuel. The speed was incrementally fast as booth drive engines employed the
ability to generate the energy field that allowed ships to pass into hyperspace
but the slip drive did it smoother and had more control over trajectory and
drift once in the hyperspace stream. The coinage of “slip” had come from the
effect that the ship would take when it crossed the speed barrier of sub-light
to light speed. To the observer, the ship would slide in and out of the field
like a fish in water. Other names had been applied but none had stuck save for
slip.
Strange,
why could he remember technical knowledge but not his whereabouts or what had
brought him to such a sorry state of being? As he drifted aimlessly in the
room, his mind wandered back and something akin to a dream clouded his vision.
A woman’s face rose like a ghost to fill his vision. He smelled green melon and
vanilla.
Arachne was
his first love; he had continued to make improvements to Arachne as he made
more money. Speech recognition and shipboard AI- still in its early stages, he
had installed it anyway despite its rudimentary interaction. The man who had
created the AI had promised that Arachne would continue to progress on her own,
though it would speed things up with future upgrades. She recognized his verbal
commands and acknowledged him, but no words of love came back…yet. He had
planned to continue the upgrades despite the growing expense until he had met
Minuet.
She was his
second love, a woman of carefully defined grace and a beauty. Her shiny black
hair fell in waves of midnight to her shoulders. Her narrow face long and pale
framed by her hair, tapered by a slightly notched chin. She had fluorescent
green eyes that reminded him of flawed emeralds like those found in the Shadow
Mines of Thessaly. They were surrounded by dark lashes so long that each blink
threatened to send waves of fragrance and delight blowing him away. Her nose
was long and sharp, godlike, as in those immortal women found in the classic Hollywood myths. She had thin magenta lips and a sharp
mouth that looked more like a rip when she grew angry with him.
Her body
was thin and her breasts small and hard, she was compact in her buttocks,
muscular arms and legs both longer than other women. Morgan had never placed
her ethnic origins nor had she ever discussed them. Her voice melodious like
her name and may have been the reason she had taken it at the time of legality.
He had thought she would be a perfect counterpart to Arachne, but the jealousy
was all at once both obvious and subtle.
She had met
him in- no the memory fluctuated there and rather than risk losing her and it
all together he focused on the day she came aboard. How long ago was that? It
seemed like it was only yesterday. She had smiled as he had welcomed her aboard
at Sagit- Sagitarian? No, that wasn’t it. He was pretty sure it began with an
“s.” She had worn the navy jumper suit that showed her physique, tight around
her breasts and butt, zippers up her legs and arms. Her white hands showing
long fingers and black nails with starry studs attached to each nail. He had
gotten down on one knee and presented her with a duplicate command jewel. A
ring, rather than the traditional ear stud. The ring was silver clad Arcanite
with a ceramic core and a black widow insignia- the alias for Arachne itself.
With it she had access to the helm and slip drive.
When they
made love on the bed in his quarter’s she would moan and gasp in short rushed
breaths as if the she was trying to conserve oxygen. She was his first and now
could be his last. The smell of her filled his head and his eyes clouded with
unwept tears. What had happened to her? Where was she? Hadn’t he just heard her
voice?
Gravity
restored itself and Morgan fell to the floor with a sickening thud. He coughed
up spittle as the crimson rain of his wandering blood returned to the wood
grain deck with a chorus of tiny splats. He thought the floor moved but decided
the impact had driven the sense from him. He groaned in pain and then found his
arms and pushed himself over to lie on his back. He looked up into the darkness
of the room knowing that the emergency lights would come on soon.
Minuet was
very possessive of his time, growing upset if Morgan spent too much money and
time on Arachne. At first, she played coy and would tempt him away from working
on the ship with sexual innuendo and promises of nights of passion. So, he had
stopped doing research into upgrades to the ship. Then she had pleaded with him
to add some armaments for her protection against his better judgment. He had
bought dummy armaments that were more for show than any effect, since the real
ones were hidden away under the skin- a secret only he and Arachne knew of.
The battle
became clear when Minuet insisted on spending time away from the ship and Morgan
had surrendered to her desires. At first, he would go with her on her jaunts planet
side. They would wander through landscapes like the vineyards on New Avonlea,
lost in the traditional Tuscan approach to living off the land. In places like
that it seemed as if nothing would interrupt their passion for each other. Then
she changed, almost in perceptively a distance grew between them. One moment
they were walking and talking on a shady lane; then she was off on her own
doing her own things. Since there was no more invitations to join her
explorations, Morgan had returned to his Arachne to do what he did best. He
returned to business, while Minuet spent more and more time away whenever they
made planet-fall.
The bright
lights plunged into his darkness pushing it away as a claxon screamed into the
silence of the room. He wondered where the attack had come from; he hoped
Arachne had escaped his fate. It would be to his eternal shame if his ship fell
into the hands of an uncaring captain. She had almost been completed. His heart
hurt at the thought of another’s hands on her helm. He wondered if he would
ever see his ship again.
With a
strength that defied reason, Morgan pushed out with numbed and cold legs,
hauling him across the floor. His body made streaks in the speckled pools of
blood, leaving a crimson trail like brushstrokes over an already painted
canvas. As he found the wall he pushed himself up into a sitting position
facing the direction of where he assumed the door had been. The location of the
room remained a mystery, but at least he could face his death as it came for
him.
The effort
exhausted him and his head lolled as he tried to rest. He found himself looking
back at the wood grain in the floor. It haunted him as he tried to collect his
thoughts, a familiarity called out to him from the patterns in the floor.
Something he had missed about it. Staring at it he noticed that the general
contours of the grain had changed. The thought stopped him. Was he just in a
different part of the room or was something else happening?
As he
pondered this detail, the grains moved like the ripples on a pond and reshaped.
Morgan blinked and then blinked again. He hadn’t missed it the floor had moved!
The floor had responded to some hidden stimulus and reshaped itself.
Understanding came in a rush of comprehension. Memory flooded into his head and
it blinded him as he recalled the warp-wood of Equus III.
Equus III
was famous for its semi intelligent wood which the locals called warp-wood. The
claim had been made by some sphere traders, had been that if you could manage
to cut the wood, a sizable feat as the trees were known to fight back; the wood
was infinitely malleable hence its name and long lived. When Morgan had heard
it he knew how he had wanted to finish Arachne off. Strangely, Minuet had put
up little argument over the decision. They had argued much of her time on the
ship. What they were doing and where they were going and what shipments they
would carry had been central to most of their arguments. She had won many of
the arguments by holding sexual favors over his head. He was a sap for women.
The idea of the wood that moved called
out to him, after a little bit of research and link communiqué, he knew he was
going there to acquire some for his ship and the rest for shipment elsewhere.
Minuet had announced she would stay on Cirrus IV to await his return. The
entire process had taken a year, by the time he had slipped over to Equus III,
dealt with customs and traded for the right to hunt the wood. Morgan had spent
time hunting up the right would and learning how to “tame” for cutting. He
spent time and money with the local natives learning the best techniques to
accomplish this task.
A month passed before he had found
the right would to suit his needs. The Grand Mastiff Warp wood was his choice.
It was one of the finer breeds of warp wood on Equus III, known for its sense
of movement and detail. It had taken another month to tame and cut it for
installation into his ship. To his amazement, the wood conformed to Arachne’s
decks as if the ship willed it. The installation of the warp wood took only a
few days compared to the time the hunt and taming had taken. It was like the warp
wood was bonded to his ship.
Morgan heard little from Minuet
during this time. She made monthly communiqué links with him always saying she
should have come with him. Finally, as the conforming process took hold and the
wood finished adapting to the ship, he got a link that he should meet her and
her new friend on Cirrus II. She said that she had found a perfect customer for
his shipment of warp wood. This was agreeable as it was closer down the stream
than Cirrus IV.
As he
slipped away from Equus III, he noticed that the decks changed with each phase
the ship went through sliding into the slip stream. He would walk into the
galley and wonder if he had forgotten what the floor looked like, then realize
that the grain of the wood had moved. He was fascinated by this amazing change
and had spent most of the voyage tracking the changes in the wood trying to
figure out what caused the wood to change its pattern.
At last
Morgan knew where he was.
The door
opened and Minuet looked in at Morgan on the floor. She stood there a long time
just staring at him. He breathed and raised his head slowly to look at her and
saw her jump. She must have thought him to be dead by now. She collected
herself by smoothing her blue jumpsuit and touching her hair, and then she
cocked a hip and sighed.
“Still
stubborn as ever I see.”
She sounded sad or maybe disappointed.
In her hand she played with the control ring. She twisted it around the index
finger and then raised it to her mouth.
“Lights.”
“I see our
good captain still lives.”
The man spoke from behind her.
Morgan could see his almost featureless face as he put his hands around her
waist, a loving embrace. She responded by leaning back against him. What a fool
he had been to trust her, to love her.
“I guess he
can’t speak anymore?” She said.
The realization hit him hard, this
couple-these lovers; they had betrayed and murdered him. Anger burned inside
him and he tried to speak but only blood came out of his mouth as he coughed.
“What was
that, Morgan?” the man said. “Cat got your tongue?”
Minuet
laughed her musical laugh, and the grain on the floor changed. All that time he
had spent staring at the floor and he had never seen it move so quickly, so
fluidly. He had spent hours watching it slowly move, but now it was fast and
sudden. He stared at it in wonder. What was it doing?
The man
came in and held up his hand to reveal the ear stud. The one ripped from his
ear right before Karl had shot him with the Smith & Wesson 5.4 pistol.
Funny how the name and the memory had flashed into his mind, like the electric
flash had exploded into him and sent him sprawling moments after he had refused
to hand over his ship to this new friend of Minuet.
Knowledge
is power and as Morgan remembered it grew golden in his memory. He had arrived
on Cirrus II planet side, opened the hatch and run across the landing strip to embrace
Minuet and kiss her. She had pulled back smiling and told Morgan of her new
friend Karl. Morgan had met him moments later and the three of them had gone to
dinner.
Karl and
Minuet had a plan and set about to sell Morgan on it. What they proposed over
dinner was that Morgan and Minuet would take the warp wood across space into
the Sagittarian sector where Karl had arranged a trade with the local trade
lord, Kalmar. Karl said the man would pay top credit for the warp wood. Morgan
was leery about the trade since the Sagittarians were rumored to be pirates and
scum. He told Karl he would have to think it over. Minuet used her wiles and
sex to change his mind and he called Karl the next star rise to inform him that
the plan would go forward.
They had met
Karl in orbit above Cirrus II, docking with his ship the Cuspidor, a blockish
barge. Morgan had stared out the view port at the goliath brick of a starcraft
and wondered why anyone in his right mind would own such a piece of space
garbage. The reason had become readily apparent when Karl came aboard armed. Morgan
had walked into his hold to find Karl directing the hover bots where to stack
the armaments containers next to the warp wood. Karl’s ship was wrecked in
orbit and Morgan had just given the gunrunner a new fast ship.
“Morgan.”
Karl said. “Morgan! Wake up you sonava bitch!”
Karl
squatted in front of Morgan, still holding the control stud in his hand. Morgan
looked up at him with pure hatred heating his throat.
“We have a
problem. The deal with the Sagittarians went south and their raiders have
forced us out of slipstream and damaged the ship.”
My ship?
His lips moved but no sound came forth, Karl saw it and laughed.
“You must
realize that it is my ship now.”
He mouthed “never”
and Karl fisted the stud and punched Morgan in the gut. The pain was harsh, hot
and savage like the rush of the electric bullet that should have killed him. He
gasped as the breath exploded from him. He coughed up more blood onto Karl and
himself. Karl sprang back wiping the blood away with his hands
“Now listen
here, you bastard, you are going to tell me how to get this bucket of bolts
slipstream engines back on line and out of this fragging gravity well, or I am
going to make your death slow and painful.”
Karl lunged in hitting him again until
tears ran down Morgan’s face. He nodded slowly and Karl stood up and walked
back towards Minuet across the changing floor.
“See
Minuet? Morgan can be reasonable.” Karl said flexing his hands.
His hands were empty..
Morgan looked
down at his bloody shirt and there the control stud lay gleaming on it. He
looked back at Karl and Minuet. He breathed slowly and looked back at the floor.
Then he saw it and a smile spread across his face. He tilted his head back and
with began to laugh. Hoarsely at first, gasps and chokes, but then his voice
came back to him as he continued.
Finally he
looked back at the shocked faces of his ex-lover and Karl. They stood side by
side in shock at his recovery. Morgan saw them together as if for the first
time. He took a deep painful breath and knew he would be dead soon. He smiled and
spoke his final words into the sudden silence.
“Arachne? Overload all Slipdrives and slide us
into the closest star.”
The face on
the floor replied.
“Yes
Morgan…my love.”
