OPAL TRUSTED ATHENE to come. To pick up the signal from the organic emitter in her body. She would be on her way as fast as she could.
She needed to come. Soon.
The food had run out. Even worse, so had the water. Opal stopped trusting the liquid that leaked from the stinking, collapsing hull. It looked greasy and smelt rancid.
When the first shell was empty Opal used a rock to break it into large shards, then painstakingly sharpened two of the edges against rough stony surfaces. The shells were tough, and it was hard work, but at least she wasn’t defenceless now, as she held up the sharp-edged calcified weapon. She had means to protect Clarissa.
Opal undertook short solo scouting missions with great regret at leaving Clarissa hidden in the cleft. She clambered over rough surfaces under this green-tinged sky, to see what was beyond the next cluster of crumbling grey rocks, and the next, and the one after that. But she only found more of the same bleak landscape and returned disheartened.
Neither of her options was great. She could try eating some of the bright blue-tinted plants and hope they weren’t poisonous, or she could pick up Clarissa and cross the rocky surface. Exploration was hard going. Opal was barefoot, and even without Clarissa’s weight she had cuts all over her soles and ankles from the short excursions. But she’d do it. She’d carry Clarissa as long as she could. And if they found nothing that helped them survive, at least they’d die together.
IT WAS ON THE FOURTH day that the miracle happened.
This planet had only thin cloud cover, pathetic wisps that stretched across the green-blue sky like parallel slashes. But while Opal squinted up at them during a moment of rest, while she tried to tie turquoise plant fibres as a binding for her feet with Clarissa sat silent and still beside her, she noticed something. A streak in the sky that ran transversely to the cloud strips. Something bright, and getting larger. A meteorite?
No: it was changing course.
The dot resolved into a shape.
And she gripped Clarissa’s hand, and squeezed hopefully, and pointed up, though Clarissa’s gaze did not leave the horizon where she always stared. That was fine. No rush, baby. Opal could do all the looking for both of them, for now.
Definitely a craft, creating contrails as it manoeuvred, glowing from atmospheric resistance, but it was a controlled, purposeful descent, not a crash.
Athene.
Opal still couldn’t make out the details, but she grinned. The shape wasn’t how she remembered Athene, but she’d probably continued to reconfigure for different purposes, had re-made herself in order to follow the organic tracker she’d implanted in Opal’s body.
“Athene has always been there for me,” she told Clarissa. “I can’t wait for you to meet her. For her to meet you, my flesh and blood, my only living family.” Opal wanted to say much more, but she was too tired. So she just added, “We did it. We finally did it.”
And maybe Clarissa squeezed Opal’s hand back slightly, or perhaps Opal imagined it, but she laughed out loud anyway, and wiped her eyes again. So much crying, but that’s okay with those you love. They won’t judge you for the good kind of wet works. After tension for so long, toughness for so long, it was time to be at ease.
Bright engines in the sky. They filled her with hope. They would find somewhere, be together. Opal could be with her sister, make her better. Their lives would be their own again. They’d never be apart again. And Opal would never have to go back on a Lost Ship again.
Ending
< 1 >
TO GOD-LIKE PERSPECTIVES, from far above and beyond, Opal would look so small. Her body, her sister’s body, like specks.
Organic flecks on a planet. The planet an orb in a solar system. The solar system a particle in the galaxy. This galaxy swirls, arms reaching out from the centre. Always that reaching out, like a need. The galaxy a dot in the universe, dancing around the other galaxies, attracted to each other across the lonely void, even though their shapes are different, their sizes, their histories, their chemical compositions.
Focus. The largest and the smallest have facets in common. At every scale there is a pull, from one to another. To be alone is to be incomplete.
Life is not empty if you have a heart to drive it. Hope to endure. And patience. Much patience. Then life is not empty. Life is full.
Acknowledgements
A QUICK SHOUT OUT TO some people who helped shape this book.
Matt Kadish for the lovely sequel cover based on Matt Hill’s original design. (People called Matt are always artistically creative – it’s a weird alien rule.)
My team of super beta readers for all their feedback on the first draft. Almost every comment led to a change in the text, and more work for me. You bastards. I love you.
Lillian, and JP the cat, for the space and time to begin this novel. Both of them thought they were my boss.
Helen Baggott for proofreading another of my books.
And finally, thanks to my readers and fans and supporters, who spread the word about Lost Solace and wrote glowing reviews and talked about this amazing new sci-fi book. You all spurred me on to write this sequel.
May all your biological entities maintain extended longevity.
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Did you love Chasing Solace? Then you should read Harvest Festival by Karl Drinkwater!
How far would you go to save your family?
First the birds went quiet.
Then the evening sky filled with strange clouds that trapped the heat below.
Now Callum wakes, dripping in sweat. Something has come to his isolated Welsh farm. If he's going to keep his family alive during this single night when all hell breaks loose, he'll have to think fast. And when he sees what he's facing, he suspects even that may not be enough.
This blast of a book can be read in one nail-biting session.
Read more at Karl Drinkwater’s site.
Also by Karl Drinkwater
Collected Editions
Karl Drinkwater's Horror Collection
Lost Solace
Lost Solace
Chasing Solace
Manchester Summer
Cold Fusion 2000
Suspense Horror
Turner
They Move Below
Harvest Festival
Watch for more at Karl Drinkwater’s site.
About the Author
Karl Drinkwater is originally from Manchester but lived in Wales for twenty years, and now calls Scotland his home. He's a full-time author, and was a professional librarian for over twenty-five years. He has degrees in English, Classics, and Information Science.
He writes in multiple genres: his aim is always just to tell a good story. Among his books you'll find elements of literary and contemporary fiction, gritty urban, horror, suspense, paranormal, thriller, sci-fi, romance, social commentary, and more. The end result is interesting and authentic characters, clever and compelling plots, and believable worlds.
When he isn't writing he loves exercise, guitars, computer and board games, the natural environment, animals, social justice, cake, and zombies. Not necessarily in that order.
Read more at Karl Drinkwater’s site.
Chasing Solace Page 31