Arkship Alliance

by Niel Bushnell

  Reader Mori looked to the floor, hesitating.

  ‘Oh, come now, Akito. Don’t pretend you are not ambitious. You wish to sit in my seat one day, do you not? Consider this an initiation . . . a step closer to the chair.’

  ‘If the Gods wish it,’ Mori replied.

  ‘I wish it. Isn’t that enough?’

  ‘Of course. I will do what I can.’

  ‘Good, thank you. I have left you detailed instructions.’ She handed him a pad. ‘Most of it deals with the daily routine and shouldn’t cause you too many problems, but there are some . . . specific requirements that you might want to consider before you agree. One in particular concerns our friend in the bed.’

  Reader Mori scrolled through the text on the pad, stopping at the final line. He looked up at the unconscious figure in front of them. ‘But . . . this is what you want?’

  ‘Yes. Do you accept?’

  He hesitated, and for a second the Scribe thought that she had been mistaken to put her faith in Mori. Then he nodded.

  ‘I am your servant,’ he said. ‘When will you leave?’

  The Scribe smiled, feeling the anticipation of her journey. ‘My ship is prepared. I will leave this afternoon.’

  ‘Alone?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I would feel happier if you had an escort ship, and platoon of our best guards to–’

  She raised her hand and Mori stopped talking. ‘My identity will be kept secret and I will be travelling alone.’

  ‘May I ask where you are going?’

  ‘No,’ she replied firmly.

  ‘It’s to do with him, isn’t it?’ Reader Mori replied, sounding hesitant. ‘It’s to do with Derward Tarkkail.’

  The Scribe glared at him, her emotions bubbling over.

  Mori looked down again, penitent in his silence.

  She turned to leave. ‘Goodbye, Akito, I hope to see you again.’

  ‘Hope?’ Mori said, the fear returning to his face.

  ‘You have your instructions,’ she replied as she left the room.

  COLD SOLUTION

  They were late, and Miller should have shut down the Casimir field generator by now. He had promised them he knew how to do it, that it wouldn’t be a problem, and that he could have it done by the agreed time. The man had made his name designing and building similar systems, and his company had the contract to service the generator for Carter & Grey. Harrison Miller could get access to it easily, that’s what he had promised. But now Wynn realized that he had trusted him too quickly: Either Harrison had been compromised, or he had been lying to them.

  ‘We can’t just hide here forever,’ Bara said, eager to get this over with.

  They waited outside of the board meeting, watching the two guards who stood by the entrance.

  ‘The Draig fleet has engaged the Caerleon,’ Gofal whispered.

  Wynn hesitated, trying to think of the best way forward. ‘Bara’s right. We can’t wait any longer. We’re going in.’

  ‘That is not wise,’ Gofal said.

  ‘I know, but if we can take out those two guards, then we can get to Valine and hopefully we can stop this.’

  Gofal straightened. ‘As plans go, it’s a little fuzzy.’

  ‘Fuzzy will have to do,’ Wynn said, taking out his gun.

  Gofal held his hand. ‘Allow me. I’m less . . . shooty.’

  Wynn and Bara watched as he walked around the corner and approached the two guards. There was no noise, and neither man had time to reach for his gun. Gofal was swift and without mercy, disabling the guards in a second. He dragged the two bodies back around the corner, then led the way to the board meeting.

  The doors opened and Gofal entered, followed by Wynn and Bara. They walked up to the large table, staring at the woman who sat at the far end, framed by a wall of windows that overlooked the shipyards.

  ‘Valtais Valine,’ Wynn said with a small bow.

  There was a blur of movement as someone pulled a gun. A shot rang out, but Gofal had the weapon in his hand, and its owner was pinned to the table.

  ‘Please,’ Wynn said, holding up his hands. ‘We’re here to talk.’

  The man under Gofal’s control struggled to be free, cursing under his breath.

  ‘Let him go,’ Wynn ordered.

  Gofal stepped back, keeping the gun.

  Wynn recognized the man as General Leonov. He straightened, correcting his jacket, then returned to his seat. His eyes were afire, burning into Wynn.

  ‘My apologies, General,’ Wynn said. ‘I hope you are uninjured. We mean you and the rest of the board no harm. I’m here to reassure you that we are not your enemy.’

  Valine stood slowly. ‘You wish to talk? Yet you have forced your way into a private meeting.’

  Wynn noticed Harrison Miller close to him, refusing to meet his gaze.

  ‘I’m here to give you an ultimatum, Valine,’ Wynn began. ‘I want to avoid any unnecessary bloodshed.’ Despite his thumbing heart he spoke slowly, uncertain what his next sentence might be. He was riding on his instincts, hoping they would carry him through. ‘Your time on this board is up, Valine. Your presence here threatens the neutrality of the Carter & Grey shipyard and is a danger to the stability of the entire Cluster. You will step down and withdraw, immediately.’

  Valine began to smile. She raised her hands and clapped slowly. ‘Well done, Prince Halstead. That was playground theatre at its best. In case you weren’t aware, I have been lawfully voted onto this board.’

  ‘I think the board would be glad to see you go. As I said, I have no quarrel with the board, or the other Houses present here. But the House of Draig . . . forgive me, the Draig Empire has no place here. You have no place in that chair. Step down and we can avoid any further conflict.’

  ‘Why on earth would I step down?’

  ‘Because I have a fleet of arkships standing by to force you.’ He glanced at Miller, looking for some sort of response.

  ‘Yes, you hoped to attack us, didn’t you? Forcing Miller to go along with your pathetic plan. You really are as stupid as you look. Miller works for me. They all work for me. The field will not be shut down, and your fleet will remain outside of this station’s defenses. So, I ask you again: why would I step down?’

  Desperate, Wynn raised his gun.

  ‘Ah,’ Valine said with a tilt of her head. ‘Now we come to the real reason. Not diplomacy, not negotiation. Violence is the only thing you really understand, isn’t it?’

  Wynn stared at the gun. She was right. He’d ran out of other options. All he had left was the cold solution of the weapon.

  ‘Sometimes it’s the only way,’ he said, aiming.

  ‘We must leave,’ Gofal said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘We must leave. Now.’ Gofal gestured towards the windows as he pulled Bara into his protection.

  Wynn refocused, pointing the gun to Valine.

  ‘Too slow.’ Valine’s wrist flicked, and Wynn felt a warm jolt to his chest. He looked down and saw blood coloring his engineer’s uniform a dark crimson. He staggered back, falling into Gofal’s arms.

  ‘Everybody, get out!’ Gofal shouted.

  As they left the board room Wynn understood why Gofal had been so insistent. Through the large windows he could see a single fighter spinning towards the station. They stumbled into the corridor, dragged on by Gofal while, behind them, the screaming board members retreated.

  They ran, stumbling, clawing away, hardly caring where they were going. Gofal threw Wynn onto his shoulder, then picked up Bara, moving faster and faster. Wynn saw the others rushing to find safety, then, seconds later, an emergency bulkhead door slammed shut, protecting the cowering board members. The station shook as, beyond the bulkhead door, the board room disappeared.

  ADRIFT

  The view from up here was spectacular. The tower was in ruins, smoke and debris expanded into space, and the husk of his old fighter jutted out of the structure, a blackened arrow pointing into the destruction.r />
  ‘Goodbye, Lucy,’ Faron Dulac said, his voice sounding muffled from inside his helmet.

  His head spun from the violence of his ejector seat escape, but he was glad to be still alive. The survival system had slowed his acceleration, holding him above the shipyard complex, awaiting his input. He caught his breath, wondering why the station’s defense network hadn’t blown him up long before his ship had hit. As he floated there, watching the unfolding chaos, he suddenly realized how lucky he was to still be alive.

  ‘Benwick? This is Faron,’ he said into his com. No response came, not even the quite hiss of an open channel. He tried again, knowing the com system was down, no doubt damaged in his last-minute escape. He tested the ejector chair’s thrusters. At least they still worked.

  Below him, he spied another tower with several small ships linked to its docking ring. He adjusted the thrusters and began to descend towards them.

  CONSEQUENCES

  The junction station shook, throwing Derward into the wall. He grimaced, trying to hold on as the room tilted and vibrated.

  ‘What the hell was that?’ Keres asked, somewhere above him. She was braced against the curved wall, holding onto the handrails as the odd vibrations died away.

  He looked up, feeling pain in his neck. ‘That might have been my fault,’ Derward confessed. ‘I disabled the station’s auto defense system. Something hit us.’

  ‘There goes our cover,’ Keres replied.

  ‘The confusion might help us get away, if I can find this damned Casimir field generator link.’

  He scanned the wall, following colored cables, mapping the links in his mind.

  ‘This is it,’ he said eventually, pointing to a panel.

  ‘Sure?’ Keres checked.

  ‘Hope so,’ he replied, already removing the connections from the box. After a moment he pulled himself back, inspecting his work. He felt a rumble of power, and then the background hum that had been present since they came into the junction station faded away.

  ‘Got it,’ Derward shouted, a grin on his bruised face. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

  MERCY

  Commander Watson wiped blood from her mouth, cursing herself for not using her seat’s restraining harness. She should know better, this wasn’t her first battle after all.

  She checked the holograph, tracking the enemy arkships and their fighters. The Caerleon had taken the brunt of their assault, protecting the rest of the fleet who were stretched out behind. Slowly, the other ships moved to attack, fanning out to give a wider target to hit. But at least the Caerleon had inflicted its fair share of damage onto the Draig arkships, especially the Melrakki. Watson guessed its commanding officer was inexperienced. They had taken too many risks, leaving the arkship’s flank unprotected, and Watson doubted if its engines still worked. She looked at it, hesitating to give the order to finish it. She knew there were families on board, but this was war. They were the enemy. Had they hesitated when they had attacked the Obsidian? They’d destroyed her life, without hesitation, without mercy. She should do the same.

  Another missile exploded close to the flight deck, and the Caerleon groaned under the impact. There was still some fight left in the Melrakki. But it was no use, Watson couldn’t give the order. There was no sense in more death. Besides, there were plenty of other targets.

  ‘Bring us about,’ She ordered. ‘Target enemy arkship three, the Krár.

  Peterson carried out her order, and the view from the windows began to turn. ‘We should retreat,’ he said quietly as he returned to her side. ‘Let the rest of the fleet take point. We’re badly damaged.’

  ‘We have to hold position, Peterson.’

  ‘I understand . . . but another hit to our engine section and we might be stuck here.’

  Commander Watson fixed him with an ungiving stare. ‘We have our orders. We wait.’

  ‘Yes, Commander.’

  Peterson left her side, checking on the holograph, while Watson took a moment to study the flight deck. Her command crew were young. For some, this would be their first battle. She hoped it would not be their last.

  Another impact set alarms ringing, and Watson knew it was serious.

  ‘Engine three is down,’ Peterson said, shaking his head. ‘We can’t maintain this course for much longer.’

  Watson knew she had to yield. Remaining here was suicide. ‘Recall all fighters. Prepare for evasive maneuvers.’

  As Peterson turned to carry out her command, the com officer stood to get their attention. ‘Incoming message from Lord Chamberlain Gofal: Field generator is down. Proceed.’

  Watson grinned with relief. ‘Cube drive status.’

  ‘Still green,’ Peterson replied.

  ‘Good. Inform the fleet: as soon as our fighters are home we’re leaving.’

  RETREAT

  By the time they got back to the dock where the Gallus was waiting, the pain in Wynn’s chest had worsened. There was blood everywhere, soaking his clothes and painting Gofal’s metallic body a dark red. The station listed, fighting against the decompression inside the board room, while alarms sounded around them. The noise, the pain, the dizzying shifts in gravity and pressure, all of it conspired to throw Wynn into a delirious state where his grip on reality was fragile.

  The docking hatch slid open and Gofal pulled Wynn through. Bara squeezed in beside them, waiting as the exterior doors closed and the air pumps began to cycle the air.

  ‘C’mon, c’mon,’ Bara said impatiently.

  The interior door of the airlock hissed open, and Bara pushed through, helping Gofal to lower Wynn onto the floor of the ship.

  ‘Get us out of here,’ Gofal shouted to Bara. ‘I’ll see to him.’

  Wynn looked at Bara, wanting her to stay, but she was already running through the ship.

  With surprising precision and dexterity, Gofal’s large hands ripped at Wynn’s clothes, exposing his wound.

  ‘The shot has pierced your right lung,’ he said as he stood to locate a med-kit.

  Wynn tried to speak, but his words came out as a desperate slur.

  Gofal held him down, his hand pressed onto his shoulder. ‘This will hurt. I am sorry.’

  Before Wynn could respond he felt a searing pain in his chest. The ice hot sensation expanded, pushing through his chest towards his spine, expanding under his arm and down to his legs. Wynn grimaced, feeling light-headed, then he passed out.

  He was aware of voices, of the ship moving under him. He opened his eyes, uncertain how long he’d been unconscious, but the pain in his chest was gone. He tried to sit up and the burning sensation returned. He rested, letting the pain subside, realizing he was no longer on the floor, but in one of the cabin beds in the wall.

  ‘Careful,’ Gofal said from somewhere out of sight. ‘Don’t try to move.’ His giant frame appeared, and he knelt next to Wynn. ‘I have cauterized the wound. Your bleeding has stopped, but the damage was deep. Much of your lung is sealed as well. You will need surgery soon, but I fear you may have lost the use of your right lung.’

  Wynn managed to raise his hand to grab Gofal’s arm. ‘Saved . . . life . . . Thanks.’

  Gofal nodded, placing Wynn’s hand onto the bed. He stood, pulling a harness over Wynn’s body. ‘We are attempting to undock from the shipyard; things may get rocky. The Casimir field has been disabled, and Commander Watson is bringing the fleet inside the defense perimeter.’

  ‘Who . . . disabled . . . the field?’

  ‘I do not know,’ Gofal replied. ‘Perhaps Harrison Miller was on our side after all. Rest, Wynn. I must help Bara.’

  Wynn nodded feebly, and Gofal disappeared into the ship.

  He felt the sensation of movement again. They must have cleared the docking port, he guessed. The engines growled as power grew, shaking him until his wound began to throb. There was a sudden jolt and the engines protested. The vibration fell away, and it sounded like they had stalled. In the relative quiet, with nothing to occupy him, Wynn focused on the ti
ny shifting sounds, trying to decipher what was happening. He could just make out the distant voices of Bara and Gofal, too quiet to discern their conversation. Then, even that faint sound ebbed away, leaving just the low hum of the air pumps.

  There was a bang, followed by two more.

  Wynn jolted, wincing in pain. It had come from the docking hatch, and his eyes were drawn towards the door.

  Three more bangs.

  It almost sounded like someone knocking on the hatch. He shook his head, realizing he was more exhausted than he thought.

  Then the knocking happened again. Three sharp taps followed by silence.

  There was someone outside, banging on the hatch, wanting to be in.

  TRANSIT

  The Scribe had forgotten how much she enjoyed flying this tiny ship. It was an ancient relic that had been kept in storage since she had first travelled to Icarus so many years ago. She had ensured that its systems were serviced and maintained, anticipating a day like this might come.

  She checked Mallory’s location on the Church database, surprised to see that she was no longer on board a Draig arkship. Every Reader wore the seal of office around their neck, a golden pendant in the shape of The Infinite. Most Readers were unaware that the jewelry was much more than mere decoration, they were also a very sophisticated tracking device, relaying the location and health of all Readers back to Icarus. It was a useful safety protocol, and perfect for situations like this. The Scribe could pinpoint Reader Mallory’s location down to a few meters. Right now, she was somewhere in the maintenance section of the Carter & Grey shipyard’s main complex and heading for the hanger bay.

  The Scribe stared at the tiny locator icon and prayed that Derward was there as well.

  SYMMETRY

  Bara jostled with the controls of the Gallus, forcing it to do her bidding. Compared to Lexica, this piece of junk was a dead weight, struggling to move away from the shipyard’s docking ring with anything remotely approaching grace.