‘Please, don’t hurt her,’ Kina muttered.
‘A happy day,’ the man continued. ‘A glorious day! Your daughter has been born into a new age, where she will want for nothing. She has been freed from a life of mediocrity. I welcome her – I welcome you all! – into my house.’
Startled by the raised voice, Ealasaid awoke and began to cry.
‘She’ll be a fighter,’ he laughed as he handed the baby back to the protection of her mother.
The man turned swiftly to face the Reader. ‘You’re right, I have no quarrel with these good people. I am their leader now, their beloved Valtais, Orcades Draig of the House of Draig. They are under my protection now. As for you, Reader . . . what is your name?’
‘Reader Viktor Aronson.’
‘Well, as for you, Reader Aronson, there is no place for you or your religion in my House. I do not offer you my protection. You will not receive my love.’
‘I do not seek it.’
Orcades leaned close to his ear. ‘All I have to offer you is my sword.’
In a single swift movement, he threw back his coat, drew his blade and thrust it into the Reader’s chest.
Owen cried out in shock as the tip of the weapon protruded from the Reader’s back.
Reader Aronson’s body became still, held up by Orcades’ blade, then he let the weapon fall, and the old man’s lifeless body dropped to the floor. His open eyes caught Owen’s, unflinching as blood pooled around the Reader, soaking into his robes.
Ealasaid’s cries grew louder, an inconsolable wail that filled the room.
Orcades Draig squatted beside the body, watching as it made tiny involuntary movements. He put his hand to the staring eyes and closed them. Satisfied, he stood, smiling at Kina and Owen. ‘Welcome to the House of Draig.’
ISOLATION
Wynn sat on the gantry high above the Icarus’ shipyards. He came here when he needed to think. It was a forgotten space, only used for maintenance of the overhanging crane arms. He liked the potential danger of sitting here, of being exposed to the breeze of the circulated air moving around the vast hanger space, knowing that he could push himself off the edge, if he wanted to. No protective harness, no royal guard, nothing and no one to stop him. It was liberating.
Below him was the Ark Royal Caerleon, the Kenric flagship, its repairs and upgrades finally completed. It had been ripped apart in its last battle with the arkship Fenrir and many had thought its space-faring days were over, but Wynn had insisted it be restored. It was the last surviving Kenric arkship, a symbol of their endurance, a beacon of hope for a better future. Wynn had never dreamed it would have taken almost two years to complete. The truth was they had gotten used to life on the Icarus station, living under the hospitality of the Church. They were safe here, they were protected, and the desire to return into the hostile isolation of space diminished with every passing day. But Wynn couldn’t help but feel uneasy. He yearned to take his people back out there, into to the churn of the Cluster. After all, that was where they belonged.
His eyes drifted to the next dock, to his new arkship nearing completion. It was smaller than the Caerleon, measuring just over two thousand meters in length, but the arkship Vengeance was far superior, having been designed for one purpose only: war. The thought of stopping Orcades Draig’s quest for power had consumed Wynn over his time here. Orcades Draig was responsible for the destruction of the arkship Obsidian, for the enslavement of the other Kenric arkships, for the death of Wynn’s father, the leader of the House of Kenric.
Now, Wynn was their leader, Prince Halstead Aldwyn Kenric, of the Royal House of Kenric, born to rule with an open hand, or so the saying went. With the death of his father, Wynn had also lost his youth. At the age of twenty, the responsibility for the survival of his people rested on his tired shoulders.
‘It’s quite a view, isn’t it?’
Wynn flinched, startled by the closeness of the voice. He turned to see Derward Tarkkail standing on the gantry.
‘Are you looking for me?’ Wynn asked.
Derward sat beside him, letting his legs swing beneath the edge of the gantry. ‘Looking? No, I always know where you are.’ The older man smiled, his eyes twinkling.
‘I didn’t think anyone else came here.’
‘I’ve been here before, once or twice. It’s peaceful, isn’t it?’
Wynn nodded. ‘There’s space to think up here.’
‘Would you like me to leave?’
Wynn glanced at his old friend. ‘No, no. Stay. But I’m not Prince Halstead up here. I’m just Wynn.’
‘You’ve always been Wynn to me. You know I’m not one for titles.’ Derward laughed, turning his attention to the construction below. One of the Vengenace’s giant engines was being lowered into place. Even at this distance its size was impressive. ‘It’s come a long way since I last saw it. Almost done?’
‘Almost. We’ve not had much time to talk since you came back. How was the Heine?’
Derward sighed. ‘It’s an old arkship, in need of some serious upgrades. They’re a decent people, they like their traditions, and they don’t have a lot to trade. In other words . . .’
‘A ripe target for Draig’s expansion.’ Wynn noted.
Derward nodded his agreement. ‘They wouldn’t stand a chance. Their defenses are laughable, but then they’ve never had to arm themselves in the past.’
‘Times have changed.’
‘Yes, they have.’ Derward gestured to the Vengeance. ‘She looks formidable.’
‘She has more firepower than three, maybe four Draig arkships. She’s more maneuverable as well. Rapid charge Gilgore Gird, fast response Cube drive, twice the hull strength of the Caerleon. They won’t know what hit them.’
‘They?’ Derward checked.
Wynn frowned, annoyed to have to explain such an obvious point. ‘The House of Draig.’
‘So that’s still your plan?’
‘Why should it have changed? Has Draig handed back our captured arkships? Have they released our citizens? Have they resurrected the countless dead?’
‘More will die if you continue along this path.’
Wynn stood, frustrated. This was an old argument, and he had grown tired of it months ago. ‘You question my leadership?’
Derward stared at him, thinking. ‘You said you weren’t the prince here.’
Wynn inhaled, holding his breath until his anger subsided. ‘Why does no one see this as I do? Should we let Draig go free? Should we run away and hide, forget about the Kenric lives lost? He hasn’t stopped! He’s continued to expand. If we don’t do something, what do you suppose will happen?’
‘You can’t fight fire with fire.’
‘Sometimes, it is the only way.’ Wynn paced the gantry, then returned to Derward’s side. ‘I don’t want to argue with you.’
‘Nor do I.’
‘I value your guidance . . . but Orcades Draig must be stopped.’
Derward put a hand on Wynn’s shoulder. ‘At least we can agree on that. It is the method that is debatable.’
‘If you know of a better way then tell me now. I am not a warrior. If I could solve this problem without bloodshed I would. But I’ve tried that, you know I have. I offered my surrender, but he wouldn’t listen. Orcades is mad.’
‘He’s also your half-brother.’
Wynn pulled away from Derward’s hand and glared at him. ‘What do you mean by that?’
‘You are family, of a sort. Perhaps there might be a way–’
‘He is not of my family,’ Wynn seethed. Then he looked at Derward and his anger faded. ‘You are more family to me, Derward. You, Gofal, Tanis . . . Bara.’
A playful grin broke over Derward’s stubbled features. ‘How is she?’
Wynn felt his cheeks flush. He looked down again and found the distinctive shape of Bara’s ship, Lexica, berthed with other smaller merchant vessels above the arkships. He squinted, wondering if he might spy movement, but the distance was too great. F
eeling foolish, he turned back to Derward. ‘Bara’s great, she’s working on Lexica, as usual. She helped out with the engine design for the Vengeance, but she doesn’t want to make it an official role. I keep asking her to be Chief of the Engine Deck, but . . . well, you know Bara.’
‘I do. And what about you two?’
Wynn let his eyes wander over the distant dots of light around the Vengeance where engineers and maintenance teams worked to complete the arkship. ‘I . . . it’s like we’re locked in orbit round each other, not getting any further away but . . .’
‘Not getting any closer,’ Derward added.
‘Yes. I’ve tried, Derward, but she keeps me at arm’s length. I don’t know,’ Wynn sighed. ‘Maybe she doesn’t like me the same way I like her.’
‘Wynn, I know how she feels about you.’
‘You do? She told you?’
‘No, but it’s obvious.’
‘Is it?’
‘To me, yes. When you first met, you had no memory of who you were, of where you came from.’
‘I didn’t know I was a prince, you mean?’ Wynn replied.
Derward nodded. ‘You were just two people . . . equals. Now, you’re a leader, a prince from a noble house. It’s a lot to adjust to.’
‘We’re still equals.’
‘You have to try to see this through her eyes. Life here, it’s completely different to how she grew up.’
‘It’s been two years, Derward.’
‘And she’s still grieving. She hasn’t come to terms with the death of her family, not to mention the destruction of her home. To her that’s all still recent. You just need to give her the time to heal, Wynn.’
‘I know, I want to . . .’ The burden of his responsibilities felt heavier than ever. ‘I wish it could be like how it was before . . . just me and Bara on Lexica, exploring, like you do, trading with other arkships.’
‘It’s not as glamorous as you make it sound,’ Derward said quietly. ‘There’s a lot to be said for putting down roots somewhere. The grass isn’t always greener.’
‘What?’
Derward laughed. ‘An old saying, from before the Fracture.’
‘I touched grass once,’ Wynn enthused, remembering the vivid image. ‘On Bara’s arkship. On Melchior.’
He thought of his brief time there, and a wave of remorse washed over him. He straightened, righting his shoulders with a heavy breath. ‘Anyway, I presume you came all the way up here for a reason?’
Derward stood, dusting his trousers down. ‘You’re right. Tanis is looking for you. He thought I might know where to find you.’
Wynn sighed. ‘Time to be prince again.’
EXPECTATIONS
Bara glanced up to the distant gantry and wondered if Wynn was sat up there. She knew he liked to spend time high above the dock, but she had never really understood why. Was it to watch over the construction of the Vengeance? Or was he watching her? Either way, she found it reassuring to think of him there. She could ask Gofal; his sensors would be able to detect movement up there, but she said nothing, content in her own thoughts. After a moment, she returned her attention to the coolant pump she had decided to dismantle on top of Lexica’s starboard wing. She was happiest here, she conceded, her head deep into a problem. The memories and emotions faded away when her mind was occupied, and she could leave behind the trauma of the past, just for while.
‘Have you ever thought about painting your ship?’ Gofal asked as he adjusted the filter flow from the access hatch further along the wing.
‘Painting him?’ Bara checked, finding the idea ridiculous.
Gofal nodded, his metallic head protruding from the hatch. ‘It lacks an overriding design. I don’t find it aesthetically pleasing, do you?’
Bara stared at the bot, watching his glowing blue eyes simulate a blink. ‘I don’t care.’
‘Oh,’ Gofal replied, sounding down-hearted. ‘Really? I could come up with some designs for you . . . Something in green, perhaps?’
‘Not interested.’
Gofal paused, no doubt calculating if it was worth pushing Bara any further. After a moment, he retreated into the hatch. Bara smiled to herself, then she looked down at the Vengeance. The last of its six engines was almost in place now, and she felt an odd sense of pride at the sight. They were Graan’s engines, he was the Chief of the Engine Deck after all, but they contained many of Bara’s ideas and designs. She thought about going down there, to watch the team complete the installation, but she would just be in the way. She didn’t belong there. It wasn’t her ship.
Lexica was the only home she had left now.
Her wrist com pinged, and Bara saw it was Stavus Graan. She hesitated, considering ignoring his call, before she opened the link. ‘What’s up?’
Graan’s deep voice crackled from the com’s speaker. ‘We’re fitting the last of the V13s today, Bara and–’
‘I know, I can see.’ Bara replied briskly.
‘Oh, okay, right. Well, we’ve got some problems with the influxors again, and we could do with another set of eyes on them.’
‘I’m busy with Lexica.’
The com filled with static, before Graan’s voice returned. ‘Bara . . . don’t make me beg. Not again.’
Bara looked back at the new arkship and began to clear away her tools. ‘Give me fifteen.’
‘Great!’ Graan replied. ‘Appreciate this, thank–’
Bara cut the com. She sat on the hull, swearing under her breath, then shouted, ‘Gofal!’
The machine’s rounded head appeared at the hatch. ‘I suppose you want me to finish what you are doing?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Only if I can show you some designs for Lexica.’
Bara laughed. ‘You can discuss that with Lex while I’m gone, but I’m not making any promises.’
Gofal climbed out onto the wing. ‘The new Lexica personality is still in its infancy, as you well know. I doubt he has much to say on matters of art.’
‘Then teach him,’ Bara shouted as she left the wing and entered the ship.
The elevator doors slid apart and Bara stared down the track of the engine deck. She’d been here dozens of times, knew the space inside out, but it never failed to take her breath away.
She remembered the arkship Obsidian’s engine deck, decades old, patched and repaired a thousand times over. In contrast, the Vengeance was cutting-edge technology, every component made to order rather than coming from one of the shipyard manufacturers like Narwoulf or Carter & Grey. There was an elegance and simplicity to the six engine shafts that Bara found appealing, drawing her eye along them towards the Cube drive at the far end of the deck. She stepped out of the elevator and walked the length of the deck, taking her time, knowing it would frustrate Graan. She was half-way there when the Chief of the Engine Deck strode to meet her.
‘Thanks for coming,’ Stavus Graan said, stroking his trimmed beard nervously. When he was briefing to his team of engineers he was full of purpose and confidence, but whenever he spoke to Bara he seemed less certain of himself.
‘What’s the problem this time, Graan?’ Bara asked as they walked towards the newly-installed engine.
‘We can’t get the influxors balanced. Until they’re set we can’t complete the install. I’ve got the whole of B Shift sitting around waiting for this to get fixed.’
Bara climbed into a small crane platform and took the control panel in her hands. She looked down at Graan. ‘Hop on.’
‘Oh, right,’ he said as he clambered onto the platform beside her.
Bara raised the crane until it was close to the influxor coupling on the side of engine six. She leaned over and touched the metallic surface. ‘It’s hot,’ she noted.
‘Yes, we can’t pump the coolant through it yet.’
‘But you’ve tested the induction flow, haven’t you? That’s why it’s hot.’
Graan flushed. ‘Yes, we thought–’
Bara held up her hand, cutting him off. She m
oved the platform along the engine, letting her free hand skim over the surface. ‘So, you’ve fitted the engine, installed the first influxor and ran an induction flow test to make sure it’s all good before you move on to the next one, right?’
‘Y–yes. But we can’t get the system to balance.’
Bara laughed. ‘And you never will.’
Graan looked at her blankly.
‘You remember the last design changes we made? When you asked me to get the conversion ratio optimized over eighty eight percent?’
‘We needed it over eighty, that’s all, but you said it could do better.’
Frustrated, Bara was about to shout at the Chief, but then she saw his team of engineers on the deck below, their heads tilted upwards, watching the platform for any signs of progress. ‘Graan,’ she said quietly, a fixed smile on her face. ‘I can see your team down there. They’re watching us. I’m going to lower the platform and leave, then I want you to do a quick visual inspection of the influxor. You’re going to notice that its buddy on the opposite side hasn’t been fitted yet . . .’
‘The opposite side?’ he said, confused.
‘The revised design – which you helped with – requires the influxors be installed in a mirrored configuration because–’
‘Because they share the same induction system,’ Graan said, realizing his mistake. ‘We need to fit both before we run a test.’
‘Good. So, down we go. Once I’m clear you go back up, quick visual, then shout, ‘Why hasn’t the mirrored influxor been installed before the induction test? Am I working with idiots?’ Or something like that, whatever you feel works best. Okay?’
Graan nodded, his cheeks red. ‘Thank you.’
The platform rattled to a halt on the engine deck. Bara climbed off and said in a loud voice, ‘I can’t see the problem, Chief. It should work. Looks like you’ve done it all by the book.’ She winked at Graan and turned to leave.
Behind her she heard the whine of the platform as it returned Graan up to the engine.
Arkship Vengeance (The Arkship Saga Book 2) Page 2