Lost Solace
by Karl Drinkwater

They’re called the Lost Ships … but sometimes they come back.

And when they do the crews are missing, while the ships have been strangely altered, rumoured to be full of horrors.

Opal Imbiana has been seeking something her whole life. It’s a secret so precious she’s willing to risk her life recovering it from a recently discovered Lost Ship, in a lonely nebula far from colonised space.

She’s just one woman, entering an alien and lethal environment. But with the aid of an amazing AI companion and experimental armoured suit, Opal might just stand a chance.

This blast of a book kickstarted the much-loved Lost Solace series, about an unlikely friendship between two women who keep hope alive in the darkest of times.

Purchase Links

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https://books2read.com/karldrinkwater

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Extract

I chose this section from near the start of Opal’s exploration of the creepy, alien Lost Ship, because it shows how danger isn’t always easy to spot or comprehend. Lost Ships harbour truly alien intelligences, not cliched green men with pointy ears. And as such, the threat they present (if indeed it is a threat) was a real challenge to me as a writer. Fans often tell me how much they love the Lost Ships, and the inventiveness of the explorations. Being creative pushes me as an author, but it’s worth it.

For context, Clarissa is the AI, and communicates with Opal through the advanced combat suit Opal wears.

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She was on a tiled walkway suspended above another atrium. On her right were entrances to various catering and staff rooms, and occasionally the open alcoves of social juice and alcohol bars, now looking decidedly unsocial with their coverings of green dust over the high stools and artificial plants. On her left a railing protected her from a huge drop to the floor far below. Up here she was nearer to the skywindows, which appeared as huge black oblongs, the interior atmosphere too thick to show details such as starfield backdrops.

This atrium was a vast catering hall. Tables of different sizes spread across the ground, some of them obviously for VIP guests – the smaller ones, the more private ones, those on higher platforms with views across all the lower-status tables. She could imagine how loud it would have been up here when the hall below was full. All that chatter and life and laughter booming up. And now … she remembered a documentary she’d seen once about recovering sunken boats from the seabeds of oceanic planets, like the one she’d lived on for a while. The way the air deepened in murky green as she looked down brought the alien environments of deep-sea waters back to mind. Lonely graves, slowly decaying. To be stuck here, in dead silence, so far from home. You would drift. Bodies floating about you. Weightless. Resemblance of what they used to be, but empty shells. Attractors for predators. You hide in fear amongst the rust and sediment. Needing to have contact. Needing something. Blackness above. No way up to the escape. No way to get free alone. Praying for a lifeline. A light. Won’t someone lower a light to you? A glow of hope, warmth you could squeeze into, food that wasn’t decayed. Praying for something to sate the hunger, the cold, the loneliness –

“Opal!” Clarissa said, loud and abrupt.

Opal pushed back off the railing, dizzy. She had been leaning over precariously.

“What is it?” She bit her lip to snap out of the dream-like feeling.

“You weren’t responding. I had to administer a stimulant.”

“How long?”

“Forty-three seconds.”

“How could that happen?” Opal was walking briskly now, avoiding looking down to the floor below. “There isn’t a leak in the suit, is there?”

“No. All sealed. But I did detect something down there. Your gaze never locked onto it but … something was moving along under the tables. Getting closer to the point below you. You had just started to lean over the railing when I gave up on calling your name and took more drastic action.”

Opal shuddered. “Let’s hope it can’t climb.” Those words didn’t make her feel any more secure so she broke into a run. “And thanks again. This ship is full of surprises.”

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Author Bio –

Karl Drinkwater is an author with a silly name and a thousand-mile stare. He writes dystopian space opera, dark suspense and diverse social fiction. If you want compelling stories and characters worth caring about, then you’re in the right place. Welcome!

Karl lives in Scotland and owns two kilts. He has degrees in librarianship, literature and classics, but also studied astronomy and philosophy. Dolly the cat helps him finish books by sleeping on his lap so he can’t leave the desk. When he isn’t writing he loves music, nature, games and vegan cake.

Go to karldrinkwater.uk to view all his books grouped by genre.

As well as crafting his own fictional worlds, Karl has supported other writers for years with his creative writing workshops, editorial services, articles on writing and publishing, and mentoring of new authors. He’s also judged writing competitions such as the international Bram Stoker Awards, which act as a snapshot of quality contemporary fiction.

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