THE ARKSHIP SAGA
Arkship Countdown – The Arkship Saga Prologue
Arkship Obsidian
Arkship Vengeance
Arkship Alliance
Also by Niel Bushnell
Altitude
THE TIMESMITH CHRONICLES
Sorrowline
Timesmith
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Arkship Countdown – the Arkship Saga Prologue
ARKSHIP VENGEANCE
By
Niel Bushnell
The Arkship Saga Book Two
First published in 2017 by
Magic Number Books
www.magicnumberbooks.co.uk
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher.
The right of Niel Bushnell to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
Copyright © Niel Bushnell, 2017
For Sarah, with all my love
Contents
THE STRANGER
ISOLATION
EXPECTATIONS
SLEEP OR DEATH
THE HAMMER AND THE NEEDLE
VISIONS
UNWELCOME GUESTS
PROPOSITIONS
THE WAR ROOM
OPTIONS
DEPARTURES
HOUR OF NEED
SHAKEDOWN
PROMISES
NIGHT VISITORS
BATTLEFIELDS
PARTINGS
PHANTOM
PRIORITIES
DESPERATE MEASURES
ORDERS
ULTIMATUM
FINALITY
THE WAVE
COMPRESSION
RENDEZVOUS
DISCONNECTION
COMMUNION
GRAVITY
THE PATH
RETURN
THRESHOLD
LUCKY
AFTERMATH
THE OATH
NEW START
DOWNLOAD
ESCAPE
A SECRET BURDEN
DIVIDED
ABSOLUTE POWER
NEW LIFE
WELCOME
WARNING
TRUST
LUPAUS AND LEXICA
ARRIVAL
HOMECOMING
PERSUASION
BATTLE PLAN
INTERFERENCE
THE CORRIDOR
THE PEACEMAKER
DUEL
PROMOTION
MIGRATION
COMMUNICATION
RESOLUTION
NO-RETURN
COLLATERAL DAMAGE
THE HALF MAN
SHOCKWAVE
HOME
REFLECTIONS
CONFESSIONS
REASSIGNMENT
THE LOVERS
AUTHOR’S NOTES
THE STRANGER
‘What will you name her?’
Owen Sinclair smiled at his newborn daughter as he held her in his broad arms. He watched the rise and fall of her tiny chest as she slept, marveling at the miniature perfection of her features. She had been worth the wait, worth the heartache and uncertainty. He was a father now, and he was determined to revel in every moment of it. ‘What’s that?’ he asked, finally registering the voice beside him.
Reader Aronson waited patiently. ‘Have you chosen a name?’
‘Yes,’ Owen said, his gaze resting on Kina.
‘Ealasaid,’ Kina added quietly. ‘After my mother.’
Owen nodded, reaching out to hold his wife’s hand.
‘A fine name,’ Reader Aronson said approvingly as he held his hand over the baby’s head. ‘I bless this child, Ealasaid, and open the door to the Church of the Infinite, so that she may walk amongst the Infinite Gods. May their reflections shine upon her, and guide her to their wisdom.’
‘May their reflections shine upon us all,’ Owen said, his head bowed.
The Reader lowered his hand, his face growing solemn. ‘A child is untouched by fractures, innocent and pure in the eyes of the Infinite Gods. It is your job to protect and guide Ealasaid through the early years of life. This is not a task to be burdened alone. Will you allow the Church to share your burden?’
‘I will,’ Kina confirmed.
‘I will,’ Owen replied. They knew their rehearsed responses. A Reader’s blessing of a newly-born child was an expected ritual, but formal ceremonies like this made Owen feel uncomfortable. He wasn’t sure what he believed in, not any more, but it gave Kina comfort, and that was all that really mattered to him. Sometimes he wished he shared her convictions. They made life seem simpler, more reassuring, somehow.
Reader Aronson smiled. ‘Let no man break this holy bond between child, parents and the Church. May all the days of Ealasaid’s life be bathed by the reflections of the Infinite Gods.’
Owen opened his mouth, ready with his expected reply, but before he could speak the arkship rocked to one side. The floor tilted, and he fell onto Kina’s bed, bracing himself to protect his daughter. An alarm sounded from the corridor beyond the hospital room as equipment began to tumble across the floor. He looked up into his wife’s eyes and saw the same expression of terror he knew was on his own face.
‘They’ve found us,’ he gasped.
Reader Aronson helped Owen to his feet. ‘We don’t know that yet. It could be an asteroid strike, or a grav line malfunction, or–’
‘Attention! Attention!’ The artificial voice filled the room, booming from hidden speakers in every part of the hospital. ‘The Braal Castle is under attack. All flight crew personnel to their stations. Civilians: remain where you are and await further instructions.’
As the floor corrected itself Kina tensed upright in the bed, pulling at the monitors and tubes attached to her arms. ‘We can’t stay here.’
Owen handed the baby to her with a regretful smile. ‘Where else can we go?’ He walked towards the corridor, watching as the hospital staff hurried by. He looked back at Kina and said, ‘You’re safe here.’
‘Don’t you dare leave me, Owen!’ she cried.
‘I’m just going to see.’
‘See what?’ Reader Aronson asked.
‘There’s a window, in the reception area. Maybe I can see what’s–’
The room vibrated, and the lights flickered. Along the corridor he heard screams. Owen held the doorframe, waiting for the movement to subside as the unsettling grind of metal filled his ears. Finally, there was silence, and the lights returned. His daughter was still sleeping, as if nothing was wrong.
Owen looked at the Reader. ‘You’ll stay with her?’
He nodded, closing his wrinkled eyes. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’
‘Owen!’ Kina protested. ‘Don’t!’
‘I’ll be quick,’ he said, not waiting for a reply. He ran to the corridor and stumbled towards the reception area. Around him, he saw stunned patients being herded back into their rooms by members of the hospital staff.
‘There’s no need to panic,’ a porter shouted as he waved his arms above his head. The corridor shook again, and the porter lost his balance and fell to the floor. Owen helped him to his feet, noticing blood on the man’s forehead.
‘You’re hurt,’ Owen said.
‘Right . . .’ the man replied, sounding stunned. ‘I’ll . . . I’ll get it looked at.’
Owen let go, hesitating to watch t
he stranger stumble away. As the vibration from another impact coursed through his feet, Owen ran along the corridor. Opposite the entrance to the hospital was a line of narrow windows that stretched up to the top of the atrium, breaking the view beyond into vertical slices. He moved closer, pushing his face close to the glass so that his breath condensed into a hazy patch on the cold surface. Outside, he could see the vastness of space, the grey-black void broken by explosions of color. A dark shape caught his eye, and he moved along the wall to see it more clearly. He felt a knot of anxiety deep in his stomach as he confirmed his worst fears.
‘The Fenrir.’
The voice startled him, and Owen turned to see the porter again, standing next to him at the windows.
‘What?’ he managed to reply, feeling like he was wading through a nightmare.
‘The arkship Fenrir,’ the man said. A blood-stained badge on his white uniform displayed the name F G Wilson, Porter.
‘The Fenrir?’ Owen repeated slowly. ‘Then it’s Draig?’
Wilson nodded grimly. He held a length of paper towel to his cut, the blood slowly expanding into the material. ‘We’re the last. It was only a matter of time.’
Owen turned to face the windows again. He could see the insignificant dots of fighters on their attack runs, gliding over the vast bulk of the Fenrir.
‘I . . . I should get back to my wife,’ Owen mumbled.
‘Do that,’ Wilson agreed. ‘Do that while you can. Gods bless us.’
Owen returned along the corridor, staggering against the shifting floor. Around him he could feel the terrible impacts of missiles, and his mind began to shut out the unthinkable reality of his situation.
‘What about my girl?’ he muttered to himself. ‘What about Ealasaid?’
Ahead, he saw the dark rectangle that was the door to his family. Reader Aronson appeared there, glancing both ways along the corridor. He saw Owen, and his stern expression softened. ‘Thank the gods,’ he said as he guided Owen into the room.
Kina, still holding their sleeping child, burst into tears at the sight of him. ‘I didn’t think you were coming back,’ she confessed.
‘Sorry, sorry,’ Owen replied, distracted by his thoughts.
‘What did you see?’ the Reader asked impatiently.
‘An . . . arkship.’
‘Which one?’
‘It was . . . it was huge. Our ships don’t stand a chance.’
Reader Aronson grabbed Owen by the shoulders. ‘Which arkship? Is it Draig? Was it the Fenrir?’
Owen nodded, unable to look him in the eyes.
The Reader gasped, then let go. He retreated until his back hit the wall, an ashen expression on his face as his eyes darted quickly.
‘I’m sorry,’ Owen managed. He turned to comfort his wife, joining her at the edge of the bed. Ealasaid looked so peaceful, oblivious to the events unfolding around her. Her beautiful face brought tears to his eyes.
Kina’s hand wiped his cheek, her eyes reassuring him. ‘We stay together, no matter what.’
Owen nodded, kissing her hand. ‘No matter what.’
A new alarm sounded, low pitched and insistent.
‘They’re docking,’ Reader Aronson noted, his voice a bitter whisper.
Owen stared at him. The Reader was old, but there was still some fight in him, surely. ‘You could run . . .’
Reader Aronson shook his head. His face contorted in anger, then he found a determined smile. ‘No . . . no. This is the will of the Infinite Gods. Soon I will be with them. There is nowhere left to run.’
‘Take off your robes,’ Kina pleaded. ‘You can disappear.’
Aronson looked down at his purple garb. His gnarled hands lifted the golden loop of The Infinite that hung around his neck. He studied it, then let it fall to his chest again. ‘I will not hide. I am a Reader, of the Church of the Infinite. I will meet my fate with a smile. We have a plan, you see? And this is just another step, another part of the plan.’ His voice faltered, choked with emotion. ‘I am sorry. I will leave you to your new family.’
‘Where will you go?’ Kina asked.
‘To meet our visitors.’
Owen held the Reader’s arm. ‘Stay here.’
‘I will not hide.’
‘Not to hide, to be amongst friends. To share in our new joy . . . while we can.’
Reader Aronson’s eyes fell on the sleeping form of Ealasaid, and the tension eased from his face. ‘You honor me.’
Kina smiled as the Reader drew up a chair and took his place at the end of the bed.
Owen held his wife as she caressed their daughter. He listened in silence; the docking alarm ended as a deep vibration rocked through the arkship Braal Castle. This was his home, this was the only place he had ever known. Now, all the dreams he had made of their future together, watching their child grow, were in tatters.
For a while the hospital was silent. The alarms had died, the rumble of battle ended. There was just the pathetic sound of distant tears echoing along the corridor. The attack had been swift and efficient. After the fall of the other Sinclair arkships, the Earl must have known better than to put up much of a fight. At least this way most of them might live, Owen supposed.
He flinched at the sound of gunfire coming their way.
‘We have to hide,’ Kina pleaded, trying to climb out of bed.
The Reader stood, resting his hand on her shoulder. ‘Offer no resistance. You and your child will be safe. They will not harm you.’
‘How can you be sure?’
‘It is their way: spare the women and children,’ Reader Aronson replied wearily. He glanced over to Owen. ‘At least they no longer execute the men. They need healthy bodies, people willing to work.’
‘I’ll fight them,’ Owen said defiantly.
Reader Aronson shook his head, a far-away look in his eyes. ‘No, son, you will not. You are a father now. Your family comes first.’
‘But we are Sinclair!’
‘The House of Sinclair just died!’ he barked. He let his anger fade, then added, ‘Can’t you see? You have no house to fight for any more. That was the old life. Now, the world has turned, and a new life awaits you and your family. I am sorry, but that is the way of things.’ Reader Aronson straightened, inhaling sharply. ‘Now, I must prepare. It will not be long.’
A high-pitched whine approached, and Owen spotted a number of tiny drones as they buzzed past the door. One of the devices stopped at the opening and scanned the room. First it focused on the walls and geometry of the space, then it locked on to the people, tracking each in turn with its numerous sensors. Finally, it focused on the Reader, paying close attention to him, then it retreated from the room, making a series of quiet beeps.
‘They know I am here. They will be coming,’ Reader Aronson said.
Kina’s eyes pleaded with her husband. ‘What should we do?’
Owen hesitated, hearing the noise of voices coming along the corridor. He looked to the door and saw soldiers dressed in black marching through the hospital. One entered the space, a gun outstretched in front of him, then a second and a third appeared. Soon the little room was filled with soldiers, weapons ready.
‘We have him here,’ one of the soldiers said into his com. ‘Standing by.’
Footsteps echoed through the space, getting louder, getting closer. The soldiers stiffened, stepping aside so that the approaching figure could be seen in the doorway. He was a young man, probably in his early twenties, Owen guessed. His face was lean, pale skin taut over chiseled cheeks, dark hair making lines away from his face. His mouth was tense, as if he was carved from rock, but his eyes seemed to shift quickly, their movements hidden by rapid blinks. He wore a high-collared coat that covered his body down to his booted calves. The material was the color of blood, but a fine embroidered pattern covered the garment, reminding Owen of exposed veins. The polished buttons caught the hard light of the room, throwing off tight mirror-like reflections of the frozen scene. The man removed his glo
ves and handed them to one of the soldiers. A nebulous smile broke his frozen expression as he stepped towards the Reader.
‘You know me?’ the man asked. His voice was soft, almost soothing.
‘Yes.’
‘Then you know I am protected.’ He tapped the side of his head, the movement sharp and aggressive.
‘I am no threat to you.’
‘No, you are not.’
He turned to look at Owen and Kina. Finally, he saw the sleeping baby.
‘Congratulations,’ he said. ‘Girl or boy?’
Owen hesitated.
‘It is not a difficult question,’ the man said with a grin.
‘A . . . a girl.’ Owen replied.
‘Wonderful. You must have a name. I presume that is why the Reader is here.’
Owen tensed.
The man insisted. ‘Her name.’
‘Ealasaid.’
‘Owen, don’t . . .’ Kina whispered.
The stranger laughed. ‘I had heard you Sinclair’s were a hospitable bunch. Is this how you treat guests? After all, I am your friend.’ He looked again to the sleeping child. ‘May I hold her?’
Kina tensed, tears falling from her face. ‘No, I won’t let you.’
Reader Aronson stepped towards the man. ‘Your quarrel is not with them.’
Immediately the soldiers held the Reader, forcing him to his knees.
The stranger smiled, waiting as Kina sobbed. ‘I just want to hold her.’
Kina shook her head, trying to control her terrified sobs.
At a glance from their leader the soldiers trained their weapons on Kina and the baby.
Owen felt hands on his shoulders even before he could react.
‘Please,’ the man soothed, ‘I am asking nicely, am I not?’
He stepped closer, watching, waiting. All the while tiny red dots danced over Owen’s beautiful child.
‘Give her to him,’ Owen said to Kina.
At first Kina resisted, but with a heartfelt sob, she released her newborn.
The man took the child in his arms, gazing down with serene happiness on his face. ‘She really is quite beautiful, isn’t she? You must be very proud. I have no child of my own, not yet.’ He looked into Owen’s eyes. ‘I envy you, Sir.’
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