by Knyte,Peter
Table of Contents
About the Author
Other Titles
Front Page
Copyright
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Disclaimer
Chapter 31 – Awakening Again
Chapter 32 – Memories
Chapter 33 - Healing
Chapter 34 - Recovery
Chapter 35 – Tilting at Windmills
Chapter 36 - Control
Chapter 37 – if at first
Chapter 38 – Ex Machina
Chapter 39 – Out of the Shadows
Chapter 40 – come into my parlour
Chapter 41 – Closing in
Chapter 42 – Eyes of the beholder
Chapter 43 – Ad Astra
Chapter 44 – Restoration
Thank You
Sample
The Flames of Time
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Peter Knyte was born and grew up in North Staffordshire, England, but now lives in West Yorkshire, where by day he passes himself off as a mild-mannered office worker, while by night he explores whole worlds of imagination as an intrepid writer.
When not tapping away at his computer he spends his time slowly transforming his garden into a Japanese style tea garden, rock climbing, snowboarding and cooking.
Through Glass Darkly is his second novel.
For more information about Peter and the worlds that he is exploring please visit:
www.knytewrytng.com
OTHER TITLES
Other titles by Peter Knyte
The Flames of Time
Through Glass Darkly – Episode One
Through Glass Darkly – Episode Two
Forthcoming titles by Peter Knyte
(Flames of Time series)
The Embers of Time
The Ashes of Time
(Glass Darkly series)
Through Glass Darkly – Complete First Season
Short Stories
Death and the Creator
FRONT PAGE
Through Glass Darkly
Episode Three
Peter Knyte
COPYRIGHT
Copyright © 2016 Peter Knyte.
Peter Knyte asserts the right to be identified as the author of this work.
All rights reserved.
First paperback edition printed 2016 in the United States and United Kingdom
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9930874-6-2
eBook ISBN: 978-0-9930874-7-9
No part of this book shall be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means,
electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information retrieval
system without written permission of the publisher.
Published by Clandestine Books Limited
For more copies of this book, please contact:
[email protected]
If you find any errors in this book please let us know so we can correct them for other readers.
To report an error, please email: [email protected]
Interior designed and set by Clandestine Books Limited
www.clandestine-books.co.uk
Cover art by Mina Morcos
Aka ‘ex nilo’ at 99Designs.com
Through Glass Darkly: Episode Three
Clandestine Books Limited
Peter Knyte
DEDICATION
For H.G. Wells, Alexander Dumas, Jules Verne, Bram Stoker, Nikolai Tolstoy, A.A. Milne, Jonathan Swift, Mary Shelley, John Buchan, John Wyndham and Anthony Hope for the years of entertainment and inspiration.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
With thanks to Jon and Tasha Williamson, Lisa Bath, Philip Hall, Claire Thompson, Jeanette Clewes, Timothy Payne, R.J. Barker, Matt Broom and Helen Marsden for providing the invaluable feedback and proofreading of this title, which has enabled me to improve it in countless ways.
I hope I can return the favour sometime.
DISCLAIMER
This book is entirely a work of fiction, and while it plays fast and loose with the names of historic figures, places and events, no part of this book should be viewed or understood to be factual, or as attempting to be factual in any way. This story is set on other worlds of imagination, which at best may bear a coincidental similarity to our own, and in all probability will be wholly different and bear no resemblance to any actual people, personalities, locations, circumstances or events whatsoever.
CHAPTER 31 – AWAKENING AGAIN
Our shake-down cruise had been going well.
From when the crew had finally boarded the ship at the Hughes Aviation yards in Los Angeles we’d had an easy trip south and then up into the high country of Colorado.
For experienced hands who well understood the dangers of the mission which lay ahead of us, the crew were surprisingly enthusiastic about this huge new ship and the challenges that getting to grips with it would entail.
As Lensmen it was no different for us. The days were long, and the work often both technical as we calibrated and configured the hundreds of lensing devices built into the ships numerous weapon systems, armoured suits and other equipment, and also physically tiring as we surveyed and mapped all the arcs of vision around the ship, identifying those spots which needed better coverage, or where special emphasis would have to be included in staff training to ensure they weren’t missed.
As a crew we’d all volunteered, but the Captain quickly made it clear he’d only consider individuals with ample prior experience on other vessels, so we were far from being novices in our respective fields. The scale of the Khan was just so much bigger than the vessels created before, and it demanded new and different ways of doing things, which left the crew having to re-learn a lot of the basics. This resulted in the task seeming completely overwhelming for most of us to begin with, but we were all in the same boat so to speak. As our familiarity with the ship slowly increased, we adapted and improved until just a few short weeks later, after we’d crossed the Atlantic on our way to the Himalaya the ship and the crew were beginning to run more efficiently.
I liked being able to go up onto the top of the ship as we flew high over the world below, up into the open air and right out onto the bowsprit, the small viewing stand that extended from the top of the ship forward into the air over the nose. From that slender spike of bronze, wrapped in my sheepskin against the cold and buffeting air I felt like I could see the whole world.
But the Expanse took that from me. Such a small and simple thing forevermore tainted by the time I’d spent there. We knew even before we volunteered about the miasmic influence and the nausea it caused, but like so much about our voyage, we discovered that what we thought we knew was barely anything compared to the reality. After a couple of months of being exposed to the sickening influence we knew it caused so much more than nausea, so much more than fatigue and demoralisation. We learned how prolonged exposure seemed to drain the very life energy from a person, leaving them feeling hollow to the core of their bones. Medically we were unchanged, even under our lenses we could barely see anything different, but over time it finally became visible, the energy that surrounded our cells was being dissipated by the complete vacuum of such energy in the Expanse, and we could do practically nothing to stop it.
The centre of the ship was the least affected, especially the area immediately around the Aetheric generators and near to the main capacitors, the crews that worked on the decks closest to these seemed to genuinely feel the effects much less. We didn’t know why, but once we realised this it allowed us to lessen the overall effect on the
crew by rotating the individuals or teams in and out of these areas. We could of course only manage this for a percentage of the crew at any given time without leaving the ship vulnerable, so while it helped to slow down the effects on us, we were all still gradually getting worse.
Of all the crew though, it was the Lensmen and gunnery arm staff who were often the most exposed, and where I had once loved to go topside and relish the freedom and isolation of manning the bowsprit, I had now come to loathe the time I needed to spend up there on that spike. The sheepskins may have helped to ward off the cold, but in every other way we were completely exposed, and as far from the shelter of the engineering decks as it was possible to get. There were dozens of other platforms equally as exposed, but the bowsprit had once been something I’d cherished.
I felt the bone weary fatigue in every muscle and sinew of my being now, and for a long moment I was back in the Expanse and half-waking from a restless sleep wishing only for a few more hours rest which I knew would never come. But after a moment I realised the sensation of hollowness was no longer there, and with that realisation my memory of our arrival over the city and the past few days returned in a rush.
I was back in a hospital bed, the aroma of cleanliness and sensation of fresh linen once more surrounding me. There was no trace of the long lazy streaks of warm sunlight which had flooded my room when I’d first awoken in this city. Instead the golden weight of sunshine had been replaced by the gloomy half-light of a heavily overcast day, and the sound of gusting winds and rain drumming against the window.
Everything ached or hurt. Even my eyes seemed sore as I moved them.
I tried to lift my head off the pillow as a prelude to sitting up, but the pain which shot across my frame sent my entire body into a spasm of agony that left me breathless and almost unconscious. In the process I must’ve called out, for a moment later a nurse appeared through the door and after seeing I was awake immediately called for a doctor.
Even with the nurse’s help sitting up in bed was excruciating, and having a drink of water hurt so much I could barely swallow it when I did finally manage to get the shaking straw to my lips. The water helped though, and as soon as I took a sip I realised I’d been completely parched, so with the nurse’s help I managed to finish an entire large glass of water before the doctor arrived two minutes later.
I recognised him immediately though couldn’t for the life of me remember his name.
‘Mr Hall, we really must stop meeting like this,’ he joked, as he came over to take my pulse and then shine an unnecessarily bright light into first one eye then another.
‘Your eyes are still a little sensitive I see, that will probably pass once you get used to using them again,’ he continued in his light-hearted chatty manner, while scribbling a note on the clipboard from the bottom of my bed.
‘I don’t understand,’ I croaked, desperately trying to recall how I’d ended up in the hospital.
‘Ah, memory a bit foggy as well eh? Not surprising I suppose,’ he commented, scribbling something else on my notes.
‘I don’t know the details I’m afraid, but from your countless bruises and lacerations I can confidently say you’ve been through the wars Mr Hall. In fact in addition to some of the most spectacular bruising I’ve ever seen, by my own count you also have over fifty minor or major lacerations or puncture wounds, and judging by the pain you seem to be in just sitting up I suspect you also have a body full of torn ligaments and muscles. Your blood sugar was dangerously low until we got some isotonic fluids into you, and your lungs had quite a bit more lake water in them than most people are usually comfortable with.’
Seeing I was still very confused, he softened his tone slightly before continuing.
‘You’re going to fine,’ he said. ‘You’ve been unconscious for a little bit more than a day and half, so some of the stiffness will pass as soon as your muscles get accustomed to being used again. In fact if you’re careful with your stitches and take in plenty of food and fluids you’ll probably discover the worst of what you’re currently experiencing will pass within a day or two, and while you’ll probably ache for another week, you might even be discharged tomorrow.
‘A couple of your friends have been in to see you since you were brought here, so I imagine they’ll be back to help you fill in those blanks in your memory before too much longer. In the meantime, stay in bed, eat something, drink lots of water and try to relax.’
With every movement seeming to take all the energy I had, and often being quite painful into the bargain I didn’t think relaxing was going to be much of a problem, but no sooner had the doctor departed than the nurse turned up with some breakfast cereal for me, closely followed by some toast and orange juice, and even a half passable cup of tea.
I didn’t feel particularly hungry when faced with it all, but no sooner had I taken a mouthful of the breakfast cereal than I realised I was also ravenous, and aches and pains aside I wolfed the rest of it down with an almost impolite haste.
I’d just finished my tea when I noticed a head tentatively appear around the side of the door to look in on me.
‘Henry?’ I said to the ships Ecologist, before I realised it.
‘I thought that was you Ashton,’ he said in reply, shuffling into the room and standing by the side of my bed.
He was a very tall and slender man in his early forties, who by chance was also from the north of England, not a huge distance from where I’d grown up.
‘What do you think of the tea?’ He asked, rather unexpectedly. ‘I swear the first cup of coffee they tried to get me to drink in here was nearly the death of me, so as soon as I was mobile I took it as my personal mission to educate every person in this hospital in the ways of making a proper cup of tea, none of this teabag on the saucer next to a cup of tepid water nonsense!’
‘I should’ve guessed something was up as soon as the nurse brought me a cup of tea rather than coffee,’ I replied.
‘But how are you and the rest of the crew getting on? I’d heard there were a handful of you that were beginning to show good signs of recovery.’
‘The majority of us are getting there now,’ he replied, sombrely. ‘Another one of the marines died yesterday, Penn I think his name was. He’d just absorbed too much of the toxin those idiots pumped into the air.’
‘Damnit, that’s no way for a soldier to die.’ I sympathised.
‘What about you Ash, what brings you back here, I thought you and the Captain were the only two of us still fit and well?’ He asked.
There wasn’t a huge amount I could tell him, and there were a few bits that I thought I’d best not tell him until he was more fully recovered. So I explained about the attack on the ship, and how I’d gotten a bit beaten up in the process of driving the creature off.
‘Ah that would explain it,’ he replied when I’d finished. ‘You came in shortly before several other casualties, including at least one less fortunate soul who I think was already dead on arrival.’
I could only guess that must’ve been either Jenkins or the Captain’s body being brought down to the morgue, though hopefully with so many seriously injured members of the crew in this hospital, someone would have the sense to keep the fact that the Captain had been killed a secret.
I was just about to tell Henry about some of the other bits and pieces that had been going on over the past week or so, especially the good news that Ariel was still alive. But just as I was about to open my mouth she walked into my room along with Agent Fraser.
She was pleased to see us both, but was I think trying not to show just how relieved she really was in front Fraser, who in addition to having one arm in a sling was also looking terribly pale.
We talked amiably for a minute or two, before Henry excused himself so that we could talk more openly.
‘You look well?’ I said. ‘Walking without even a stick I notice.’
‘Yes,’ she replied, looking first at me and then Agent Fraser beside her. ‘Due in no small
measure to you two, and the terrible sacrifice made by those poor men down in engineering.’
‘I still don’t remember very much of the detail,’ I had to admit. ‘But I do remember finding the bodies of Agent Jenkins and the Captain on the bridge, along with the Fire Chief and a couple of other people that had been attending the meeting.’
‘The bodies?’ broke in Fraser. ‘Ash, they were badly hurt, and Samuel . . . Agent Jenkins is still in critical condition, but we’re all still hopeful he’ll pull through.’
‘But . . . surely,’ I replied, shocked at what they were saying to me. ‘His throat was very deeply gashed open, and there was a lot of blood. As for the Captain, he had that things pincer impaling his chest!’
‘Well, I know what you saw must’ve been a mess Ash,’ conceded Ariel. ‘But the Captain was back on his feet, albeit still a bit unsteady by the time we made our way back down from the top of the ship.’
The talk of coming down from the top of the ship jostled a memory buried somewhere deep inside me, but I still couldn’t quite pin it down.
Ariel clearly spotted something in my expression after she said this.
‘You really don’t remember chasing that creature up to the top of the ship?’ Fraser asked.
‘I remember leaving the bridge, but it becomes a blur after that,’ I confessed, honestly. ‘Did we get it this time?’
They looked at one another, hesitating before answering me.
‘We were hoping you could tell us,’ Ariel finally replied.
CHAPTER 32 – MEMORIES