Arkship Alliance

by Niel Bushnell

  ‘Thank you, Gabriel,’ Faron replied, smiling to himself. He realized how childish he could be, but the older he got the more he cherished informality and whimsy.

  ‘We are on the edge of the Carter & Grey shipyard’s sensor range,’ Captain Beric said, referring to the vast holograph map that turned over their heads.

  ‘They can detect us?’ Faron asked.

  ‘Almost certainly.’

  Faron studied the map. The other Dulac arkships were in close proximity to the Benwick. A formidable show of strength. As he watched, the arkship Evanine appeared, slowing to join them.

  ‘The Caerleon is on approach,’ Captain Beric confirmed.

  Eight arkships in tight formation, not to mention their support fleet. Faron smiled.

  ‘How long till the Addington ships arrive?’ he asked.

  Beric checked the pad in his hand. ‘Two hours. They’re sending their fleet of three arkships to rendezvous with the Caerleon inside the Cloud of Tranquility.’

  ‘Good, good.’ Faron said. ‘All on track.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Captain Beric replied. Was he doing it to annoy him? Faron wondered.

  ‘Launch our fighters, let’s make this look impressive.’

  Captain Beric obeyed, leaving Faron alone. He looked out of the great circular window that dominated the far end of the flight deck; the Ark Royal Caerleon drift alongside, matching its course and speed with that of the Benwick’s. It was an older vessel and it bore the scars of battle across its pitted surface. Even so, it was a magnificent sight, its polished stone and metal surface catching the light. As the arkship cruised by, Faron’s mind drifted with it, and he found himself thinking of Bara Delaterre. He thought of her often, he realized, and he wondered why. Yes, she was beautiful, and her forthright personality appealed to his nature, but was it more than that? Perhaps. He felt guilty even admitting that much to himself. She was married to his ally, a man that Faron admired and respected. He tried to put her out of his mind, but it didn’t work. It was as if he was walking in a circle, always returning to her.

  He needed something to do, something to occupy his mind. He stood and found Captain Beric.

  ‘I’ve not been outside for a while. I’m going to take Lucy,’ Faron said with a devilish smile.

  ‘That is unwise. You’re needed here.’

  ‘Yeah, I know, but I’m doing it anyway.’ Grinning, he slapped Beric on the shoulder and marched off the flight deck. As he left, he turned back and shouted, ‘You’re in charge, Gabriel.’

  GALLUS

  ‘What the hell is that?’ Bara asked, her nose wrinkled in disgust.

  Wynn stared at her, uncertain if she was joking or not. As she shook her head he concluded that her annoyance was genuine.

  ‘What’s wrong with it?’ he asked, trying to understand.

  She gestured to the small transport ship in front of them and sighed. ‘Where do you want me to start? It must be, what? Thirty, forty years old?’

  ‘Forty-four,’ Wynn said quietly.

  ‘And it’s had its engine stack replaced. Those aren’t original Tri-Mertle’s, are they? Cheap repros instead.’ Bara walked to the rear of the ship, pulling herself up to look inside the blackened engine manifolds.

  Wynn followed her, trying to sound upbeat. ‘It’s passed inspection.’

  Bara stepped back, brushing carbon from her hands. ‘It’s overstressed, it’s had most of its hull re-plated, and I’d be surprised if it lasted two Cube jumps.’

  ‘But apart from that?’

  ‘It’s green, Wynn. Green.’

  He stepped back, reappraising the little ship. Its body was rounded, lacking the jutting sleekness of Lexica. It had three engines at the back, with several smaller thrusters in between. Two squat wings jutted out from the bottom of the hull, sweeping down and back. They scraped towards the landing pad, low enough to stand on, allowing access to the entrance hatch in the side of the ship. To Wynn’s untrained eyes it appeared functional, if not elegant. But Bara was right: it was green. How had he not noticed that?

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he conceded with a defeated sigh. ‘I can take it back, maybe trade it in for something else . . .’

  ‘You bought this?’ Bara asked, half-laughing. ‘Why?’

  ‘I got it for you.’

  ‘For me?’ Her tone changed, her anger subsiding. ‘Wynn that’s kind, but what made you think I wanted this?’

  ‘I thought maybe a new ship might help you get over Lexica,’ he said, realizing how childish it sounded. ‘I know, bad idea. I’ll take it back.’

  He turned to leave, wanting to make this right, but Bara caught his arm.

  She smiled at him. ‘Wynn, it’s fine, thank you.’

  ‘You’ll keep it?’

  ‘Yes,’ she laughed, ‘but I’m repainting it, okay?’

  Wynn held up his hands. ‘Whatever you want.’

  They stood together, looking at the lump of metal, both lost in thought.

  ‘It’s called the Gallus, but you can change it, if you want,’ Wynn suggested.

  ‘What’s it mean?’

  ‘Some Earth animal, I think.’

  Bara looked at the ship, nodding. ‘I think it’s fine.’

  She jumped up onto the wing and pulled at the hatch, peering inside. ‘Smells odd.’

  ‘It belonged to yeast traders.’

  Bara hesitated, then she stepped inside, inspecting the narrow corridor. Wynn followed her, letting her take her time, pausing as she removed a wall panel to look within.

  ‘So, what’s the plan?’ Bara asked as they approached the bridge.

  ‘You and I are going to be mechanics.’

  Bara laughed. ‘You? A mechanic?’

  ‘Why not?’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘Doesn’t matter.’

  They entered the bridge. It was an odd configuration; there were three seats, but the center chair was lower than the others, accessed by a sloping walkway. Bara made for the middle seat, flicking switches to bring the ship’s system’s online.

  ‘It’s designed for a crew of three,’ she explained. ‘Flight, Resources and Operations. We can still manage with two, hopefully.’

  A new voice replied: ‘Would three be better?’

  Wynn turned to see Gofal, his skeletal frame filling the entrance to the bridge.

  ‘Your timing is perfect,’ Bara replied, grinning.

  ‘Operations officer Gofal, reporting for duty,’ he said, taking the chair on the right. ‘Did you notice the ship is green? It’s quite beautiful, isn’t it?’

  Bara shook her head, ignoring him as the ship throbbed with power.

  Wynn took the seat on the left, testing out the controls. ‘So, I’m guessing you’re the pilot, Bara?’

  ‘Do you want to do it?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m a good pilot.’

  ‘True, but Resources is a more important job.’

  ‘What is it? What am I responsible for?’

  ‘All the important stuff: Fuel, weapons, food.’

  ‘And the big guy?’

  ‘Coms, flight plan, systems interface.’

  Wynn frowned.

  ‘Me and the big guy can manage, if you don’t like the sound of it,’ Bara teased, smiling at him.

  ‘No, I’ll stay. I’m sure there’ll be something interesting for me to do eventually.’ He checked the console. ‘The Caerleon is preparing to transit. We are fueled and cleared to depart. Shall we go?’

  Bara activated the thrusters, and the ship lifted from its pad. ‘Yeah,’ she said with satisfaction. ‘Let’s go.’

  REFLECTIONS

  Derward awoke with a jolt, crying out in pain as the last embers of his nightmare gave way to reality.

  Reader Keres Mallory sat beside him, half hidden in the ochre gloom with one hand over his mouth. Her eyes were wide with fear, her head darting left and right.

  ‘Sorry,’ Derward muttered, pushing her hand away. He blinked quickly, rubbing his face to kick-start his senses. H
e was still tired, a fatigue that seemed to dig into his core. He slept, but he didn’t rest. He sat up, leaning against the encrusted wall of the sewer. A glittering deposit of salt gave way, falling to the ground as he adjusted his position, coating the back of his hand. He licked some of it, savoring the sharp taste, then he scooped up a handful of the grey water that ran past their feet, swilling his mouth.

  ‘You’ll catch something,’ Keres warned in a whisper.

  ‘I’ve had worse,’ he replied. ‘You should drink too. Keep up your strength.’

  Mallory shook her head, looking at the dark flowing water with disgust.

  ‘How long did I sleep?’

  ‘Not long,’ Keres replied, watching the shifting shadows falling over the grate in the ceiling of the sewer. ‘Fifteen, twenty minutes.’

  Derward shook his head angrily. ‘Too long. We shouldn’t have rested.’

  He stood, feeling weak, grabbing at the wall as his legs buckled. Keres caught him, taking his weight.

  ‘You need to rest,’ she said.

  ‘Later . . . when we get off.’

  ‘If we get off,’ Keres muttered as tears clouded her eyes.

  ‘It’s gonna be fine,’ Derward said.

  Keres shook her head, looking like a lost child. ‘I don’t know how to get us out of here. I didn’t have a plan. I just had to see you. I thought you were dead, but then I found you right here, and you’ve been here for months, being tortured. Derward, I’m so sorry, this is all my fault.’

  She sobbed, falling into his arms. Derward held her there, watching the feeble lights reflecting in the trickle of water, waiting until her breathing eased.

  ‘This isn’t your fault,’ Derward said. ‘It is mine, I see that now.’

  ‘How can you say that? You came here looking for me. You came because I betrayed the House of Kenric, I led them into a trap.’

  Derward nodded, feeling the weight of the years bearing down on him. ‘I came because I love you, Keres. I always have, since you were a little girl.’

  Her anger fell away, and she appeared more lost than ever. ‘You never told me.’

  ‘I didn’t think I had to.’

  ‘I was just a kid, and you left me behind. I wanted to be with you, but you left me . . .’

  ‘I know, and I’m sorry.’

  ‘. . . I thought you hated me.’

  ‘I never hated you, Keres. All I ever wanted was to be free, with you and Ermen, but I couldn’t stay with you. If I had, you’d be dead now.’

  ‘That was a long time ago, Derward. I know what happened. You could have come back for me, but you never did.’

  He closed his eyes, squeezing them together. ‘I know. But I’m here now. I’m not making the same mistake again.’

  Above them, through the grating, he heard the bustle of a marketplace. The smell of cooked food drifted down, making his mouth water. He held his stomach, feeling the sharpness of his ribs under his dirty shirt. It would be so easy to give up, to succumb to the tiredness, but he had to make it up to Keres. He stared into her face. There was so much pain in those young eyes, so much unspoken history between them.

  ‘We will get out of here,’ he promised.

  ‘How? The hanger bay is too well guarded.’ She thumbed at the golden pendent around her neck, looking faraway.

  Somewhere above them a warning signal began.

  ‘That’s a docking alarm,’ Derward said to himself. He looked to Keres, feeling the germ of an idea forming. ‘Where are we?’

  ‘The Carter & Grey shipyard, I think. Valine has business here. The Gargan’s scheduled to dock while we undergo some routine maintenance.’

  They listened as the arkship rumbled and groaned. The alarm ended, and a voice echoed through the space above.

  ‘Docking complete. All approved maintenance schedules will begin in one hour.’

  ‘That’s our way out,’ Derward said. ‘If we can get to the shipyard, we can find help.’

  Keres put away the pendent and took his arm. ‘You feeling strong enough to walk now?’

  Derward grimaced, fighting against the pain. ‘Yes. We can’t be far from one of the docking ports.’

  QUICK FIX

  The Gallus drifted towards its assigned docking port, making tiny adjustments as its closed the distance to the storage facility.

  Bara leaned forwards, checking the camera feed on her console, comparing it to the view out of the bridge windows. She touched the control yoke, surprised by the ship’s quick response to her tiny movements. She could have put the ship on auto, but she wanted to see how the Gallus responded under her control.

  ‘Everything still okay?’ Wynn asked, sounding nervous.

  ‘There is no reason for caution,’ Gofal replied. ‘Our identity has been confirmed by the Carter & Grey security grid. We are just three happy mechanics, here to complete a contract repair.’ He tapped his console screen. ‘We undercut every other mechanic for the work.’

  A low vibration grew, coursing through the floor, then eased away. Bara shook her head. It was the third time she’d noticed it, and she knew what the problem was: the thruster control system was housed next to the main structural beam that ran through the length of the stubby ship. Every time it fired, the vibrations were amplified by the shell of the ship. She’d have to take out the thruster unit, strip it down and build a new housing with better clearance. That should fix the vibration. She’d already catalogued a dozen priority problems with the Gallus, big projects that would require weeks of work. Bara cursed under her breath. This wasn’t Lexica. This wasn’t her ship, and she wasn’t going to get drawn into this. She understood why Wynn had done it, but buying this ship was a clumsy attempt to make her happy. He meant well, but this was just a quick fix, a lick of paint to hide the real problem: Bara didn’t belong here.

  The Gallus shook, pulling Bara out of her thoughts.

  ‘Docking complete,’ Gofal announced.

  ‘Shutting down,’ Bara said as she put the ship’s systems into a diagnostic idle. She spun her chair to face the others. ‘What now?’

  Wynn looked at Gofal expectantly. ‘Commander Watson has signaled that the Caerleon has completed a successful Cube transit and is in place. They have deactivated sensor stations in the Cloud of Tranquility.’

  ‘And Faron?’

  ‘Ready.’

  Wynn took a breath, his face stern. ‘Then it’s time.’

  DARK

  Valine stood over the console screen, studying the growing mass of signals just at the edge of the Carter & Grey shipyard’s sensor grid.

  ‘What do you make of it?’ Valine asked Commodore Larsson.

  ‘We count six, perhaps seven arkships. It’s hard to be certain at this range. This could be the start of an attack.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Valine mused, staring at the fuzzy image. Something about this bothered her, but she couldn’t quite catch it. Folding her arms, she turned to interrogate her commodore. ‘What would you do?’

  ‘Do?’ he asked, surprised by the question.

  ‘If you were me. If I wasn’t here, how would you interpret the situation?’

  Commodore Larsson took a moment, checking over the data stream next to the indistinct scan. He was still young, promoted because of his family ties rather than because of dogged ambition. Still, he was competent and ambitious, keen to prove himself worthy of his position. He ran his fingers through his white-blond hair, his lips moving as if he was speaking.

  He smiled confidently. ‘Given the situation with our take-over, and the recent skirmish at Narwoulf, I would surmise this is a fleet of arkships massing in preparation of an attack.’

  ‘A logical conclusion,’ Valine said, nodding. ‘Your recommendation?’

  ‘We move our fleet towards them in a show of force.’

  ‘But why there?’ She jabbed at the screen. ‘Why choose that location?’

  ‘They may presume they are out of sensor range. It’s quite far out.’

  ‘But jus
t close enough for us to see them.’

  Commodore Larsson glanced up, his brow wrinkled in a frown. ‘You anticipate a trap?’

  Valine laughed wearily. ‘I always anticipate a trap. It seems very convenient, don’t you think?’

  ‘Convenient?’

  ‘Amassing a fleet on the edge of sensor range to lure our forces away from the station.’

  Commodore Larsson reappraised the console screen. ‘If that is their plan, then they must have more arkships elsewhere.’

  ‘Correct,’ Valine said, her eyes twinkling. She felt the familiar tremble of excitement. A battle was coming, but perhaps she could outwit it. ‘Send one arkship, the Haukr, to the signal source. Reconnaissance only. Do not engage.’

  ‘And the rest of the fleet?’

  Valine activated the holograph, and the scan appeared over their heads as a three-dimensional map. ‘Where would you hide, Oscar?’

  Commodore Larsson turned the holograph, checking the location of the shipyard, the Draig arkships, and the signal at the edge of the projection. He zoomed out, spotting something.

  ‘There,’ Larsson said, pointing to a gaseous region. ‘The Cloud of Tranquility. I’d hide there.’

  ‘Good. The shipyard has sensor stations there.’

  ‘The eddies interfere with them. They often go dark.’

  ‘But not all at once, surely?’ Valine said, pulling up the data feeds from the Cloud of Tranquility and overlaying them onto the holograph projection.

  Commodore Larsson gasped. A portion of the region was devoid of data.

  ‘Six sensor stations are reporting malfunctions,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘They should lose one or two in a week. Six seems suspicious.’

  Valine stared into the region of darkness. ‘Send four arkships to that region. Tell them to expect resistance.’

  ‘Yes, Valtais.’

  Her wrist com buzzed a reminder; it was time for the meeting. Valine turned to leave, wondering if Larsson was up to the challenge of the next few hours.

  THE MESSAGE

  Scribe Barrahaus the Third held the golden cup over her head, reciting the ritual words from The Changed Time, one of the books that made up The Word of The Infinite. She knew the sacred texts off by heart – she had written this edition, after all – but she still liked to refer to it. It stopped her taking the words for granted, forcing her to reappraise their meaning through the prism of the moment.