Arkship Conquest

by Niel Bushnell

  ‘We have been transmitting it continuously for the last eighteen hours.’

  ‘And?’

  Commodore Orava hesitated, a solemn expression on his face. ‘Nothing so far. They will think it is a trap.’

  Orcades put down the glass, feeling the old rage growing. He suppressed it, calming his mind, controlling his emotions. ‘They will require proof,’ he noted. ‘They must see me, face to face. Then they will believe I have returned, as you did. Then they will return to my house and the fighting can stop. Tell me more about the other factions.’

  ‘Commodore Waffron is in command of–’

  ‘Waffron?’ Orcades interrupted, his anger getting the better of him. ‘That fool? I demoted him. How has he managed to take control of two arkships?’

  ‘He took advantage of the situation. We believe he killed Commodore Nieminen to take command of the Melrakki.’

  ‘I should have killed him when I had the chance,’ Orcades muttered to himself.

  ‘The Hundur joined with Waffron soon after. We have had several skirmishes with them, mostly over our stored resources at stations in the Neptune Wastes.’

  Orcades scratched at the burned flesh on his right arm, assessing the information. ‘And the other faction? That is Valine?’

  ‘Yes.’

  He knew this already, but still the betrayal struck a nerve. He had trusted Jacque Valine completely, promoting her to Admiral of the Fleet, making her an honorary daughter of the House of Draig. She should have kept the house together, she was perfectly positioned to assume control in his absence. Now, he wondered if that had been part of her plan all along. With his mind clear of the addictive drugs he had been taking prior to his disappearance, Orcades saw the situation clearly for the first time, and he realized how she had been using him, manipulating him to her own ends. Hell, she’d probably helped to keep him addicted, his surmised.

  ‘Valine was a daughter of the House of Draig,’ he said to Orava, watching him closely. ‘She was the Admiral of the Fleet. She was the rightful heir to my title. Why did you not remain loyal to her?’

  Commodore Orava reddened, fidgeting with his collar. ‘Forgive me, Valtais, I know that was your wish, but Valine’s leadership was contrary to yours. She did not have the best interests of the House of Draig at heart. She was only concerned with her own position. I could not follow her.’

  He stood to attention. ‘If you wish it, I offer you my resignation . . . and my life.’

  Orcades paused, letting the silence stretch out to an uncomfortable length. ‘Sit down, Commodore. Your judgement was correct. You saw what I did not. I am only sorry you did not notice it sooner. As for your life, well, it was always mine, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, Valtais.’

  ‘I need people like you, Martin. I’ve turned my back on advice for too long. But I see now that I’m stronger when the people I trust are safe to challenge me, to question my judgement. Valine made a fool of me. That must never happen again, do you understand?’

  ‘Yes, Valtais.’

  ‘Good. You will be my canary.’

  ‘Canary?’

  Orcades smiled. ‘It was a story told to me by my mother when I can very young. Back on Earth, before the Fracture, miners would dig into the ground looking for fuel. The miners would take canaries – they’re small birds, I’ve seem pictures of them, they’re quite beautiful – they’d take them into the tunnels with them. If there were toxic gases inside the tunnels, then the canaries would die before the miners. It was an early warning system that protected the miners, giving them enough time to escape.’

  ‘Not so good for the canary,’ Orava chuckled.

  Orcades glared at him. ‘You will be my canary, Martin. You will seek out danger, you will protect your Valtais and, if necessary, you will die in my place.’

  ‘It . . . it would be my honor,’ Orava said, trying to hide his shock.

  ‘I’m sure it would be.’ Orcades laughed.

  The commodore said nothing.

  ‘Is that all?’ Orcades asked.

  Orava checked his pad. ‘The arkship stands ready. The people are with you. Once we find the other factions we can put an end to this.’

  ‘Yes, we will go to them,’ Orcades said, a plan forming in his head. ‘They will accept me as the true leader of the House of Draig or die.’

  ‘Very wise, Valtais.’

  ‘Begin the search,’ Orcades ordered.

  Orava stood to leave, checking his pad once more. He smiled dryly. ‘There is one more item: a message from the Church, an invite to the inauguration.’

  Puzzled, Orcades stared at his commodore, waiting for more.

  ‘The old Scribe, the leader of the Church of the Infinite . . .’

  ‘I know who the Scribe is!’ Orcades barked. ‘I have not lost my senses, Martin.’

  ‘Sorry, Valtais, forgive me. Scribe Barrahaus is dead.’

  ‘Dead? How?’

  ‘Peacefully, in her sleep, so they say. There are rumors that she disappeared, but the end result is the same: there is a new Scribe now and his inauguration is in four days’ time.’

  ‘I have no interest in the Church.’ Orcades said with a dismissive wave of his scarred hand.

  ‘Yes, of course, but the Church have extended invitations to representatives of all the major houses and–’

  ‘I will not go. The Church is a disease. I will not pledge my allegiance to the new Scribe.’

  ‘Valtais,’ Orava said, his voice slow and patient, ‘they do not know that you’re alive. The invitation was addressed to me. I will, of course, decline, and inform them of your return.’ He stood to leave, but Orcades raised his hand.

  ‘No,’ Orcades said, thinking. ‘You will accept but say nothing about me. And you will end the signal announcing my return.’

  ‘Valtais?’

  ‘They have invited all the major houses, you say, even a broken house like ours. The Church does not like to be seen to be taking sides, so they will have invited the leaders of the other factions as well. Waffron and Valine will attend, I’m certain. They will want to be seen as leaders.’

  Orava nodded, understanding. ‘If they accept, if they go to the inauguration, then we know where to find them.’

  Orcades smiled, then laughed, slapping his commodore on the shoulder. ‘Yes, you see it, don’t you? We can bring them to their knees in front of the rest of the Cluster. Then they will see that I have truly returned.’

  Commodore Orava nodded. ‘We will be outnumbered, but we will prevail.’

  ‘Outnumbered? Yes . . .’ Orcades’ brow creased, accentuating the patchwork pattern of his burned skin. ‘It would be unwise to confront both factions at once. Valine is the challenge, she is the thinker. We should take out Waffron first, bring his faction back under my control. Then there will be no doubt. We can crush Valine for everyone to see.’

  Commodore Orava smiled, relived.

  ‘Can you find him?’ Orcades asked, feeling tired.

  ‘We will do everything we can to find Waffron.’

  Orcades grasped his arm, his fingers gripping him in a vice-like hold. ‘Good. Do it. Then, when Waffron is tamed, we can move on to Valine.’

  ‘Yes, Valtais.’

  ‘Where will the inauguration take place?’

  ‘Earth,’ Orava replied.

  THE MESSAGE

  Valtais Jacque Valine sat in her command chair on board the arkship Gargan, gazing out at the drifting maelstrom of churning rock and gas. Around her, the flight deck crew carried out their duties, preparing the arkship for its next Cube transit, oblivious to the turmoil Valine felt.

  She stared at the pad, re-reading the decoded text. The message had been broadcast on an encrypted Draig frequency, boosted through Draig waystations so that it spread across the entire Cluster. It lasted for just over eight hours, and then it ended. Outwardly, she had dismissed it, made light of its content, ordering it to be struck from the official record. It was a ploy orchestrated by one of the
other factions to sow confusion and doubt. Inwardly, she feared it was true: Orcades Draig was alive.

  They had never found his body, and that had always bothered her. Given the confusion during the destruction of the Fenrir, it was hardly surprising, but it had gnawed at her, feeding her doubts during these dark months of civil war.

  Valine dismissed the notion; Orcades was dead. She was just tired, that’s all, seeing ghosts in the shadows. Yet, she couldn’t ignore the message. Her influence was weakened by it. She was still Valtais, the rightful heir to the House of Draig, but many had yet to accept her right to rule. Even the idea of a returned Orcades Draig might be enough to tip the balance. She could lose everything. The thought sent a shiver down her spine. She had to do something quickly, something that would turn the tide of battle in her favor, something she had been dreading. It had been an option she had considered before, but it was extreme, a fallback position if things began to slip away from her. Now, it felt like that moment was upon her. One of the other factions was propagating this lie, turning Orcades from a man to a legend, and legends had power.

  Valine thought for a moment, weighing up the variables, deciding who had the most to lose from the return of Orcades Draig, then she summoned the Chief of the Watch to her side. ‘Do you still have a lock on the location of the arkship Caerleon?’

  ‘The Kenric arkship? Prince Halstead’s flagship?’ the Chief asked, looking surprised by the question.

  ‘Yes,’ Valine replied icily. ‘Unless you know of another arkship with that name?’

  The Chief checked his pad. ‘Yes, we still have a fix on their telemetry.’

  ‘Plot a course.’

  ‘To the Caerleon?’

  Valine bore into him. ‘Do you need to check every order? Are you now incapable of carrying out your duties?’

  ‘No, Valtais,’ he blurted. ‘New course confirmed. Cube transit authorized.’

  REGRET

  ‘There is nothing wrong with my smile,’ Scribe Mori insisted, staring at his reflection in the mirror. Behind him, Librarian Okuda frowned, less convinced.

  ‘It’s just a little bit lop-sided,’ Okuda said quietly.

  ‘Lop-sided?’

  ‘To the left. It’s coming across as a sneer.’

  Mori turned to glare at Okuda.

  ‘I’m not saying this,’ Okuda protested, holding up his pad. ‘This is feedback from your appearance at the funeral.’

  ‘It was a funeral. I wasn’t supposed to look happy.’ Scribe Mori walked away in disgust, finding his drink on the table. He emptied the glass and waved to his valet to refill it.

  ‘You asked what the people thought of you,’ Okuda said, scrolling through the report. ‘If you’d rather not hear this sort of thing–’

  ‘No, no,’ Mori interrupted wearily. ‘I should know the people’s mind.’

  Librarian Okuda smiled. ‘On the plus side, your approval rating is very high.’

  ‘I haven’t done anything yet.’ Mori took the refilled glass and sat in the chair at the side of the dressing room. Behind him hung his formal garments of office, a line of distinctive robes suited to a variety of engagements. He let his hand stroke them, sensing the different textures and materials. ‘Move on,’ he ordered, closing his eyes to listen.

  ‘The inauguration invitations have been sent. Preparations are on schedule, everything is running smoothly,’ Okuda explained.

  Mori opened his eyes, finding Okuda. ‘Security?’

  ‘Tight, as per your instructions. The station is well defended, and our fleet will be hiding in the Wasteland, in case of any problems. Only one designated representative of each House, plus their Reader, will be allowed into the ceremony. They will have to go through tight screening, and no devices or weapons will be allowed inside. The Inquisitors will be present in high numbers, and your personal shuttle will be on standby to leave at all times.’

  Mori nodded, satisfied.

  ‘I don’t foresee any problems,’ Okuda continued. ‘All arkships observe the truce of a Scribe’s inauguration. It can often be the start of peace between old enemies.’

  Mori snorted, less convinced. ‘What about the Draig problem?’

  Okuda checked his pad. ‘The Church can’t be seen to favor one faction over another. As we have done in the past in similar situations, we have extended an invitation to the leaders of the three main factions.’

  ‘They’ll be kept apart?’

  ‘Naturally. However, there is a small issue.’

  Mori put down his glass, frowning.

  ‘We have heard chatter about Orcades Draig.’

  The Scribe’s skin went cold. ‘He’s dead.’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Okuda replied, his voice like silk. ‘Nevertheless, there has been several mentions of him in Draig communications, claiming he is alive and in charge of the Orava faction.’

  Mori gripped the arms of the chair. ‘Does it matter?’

  ‘It is an internal Draig affair, but I thought you should be aware of it. We will, of course, continue to monitor the situation and inform you of any changes.’

  ‘Is that everything?’ Mori asked, forcing his face to smile.

  ‘For now. I will leave you to dress, Scribe.’ He bowed and left the room. The valet laid out the Scribe’s clothes onto the long table in the center of the dressing room, folding them neatly. Mori watched him work, his mind reeling.

  He shouldn’t have been surprised. After all, wasn’t this what he wanted? He’d freed Orcades Draig from his recuperation on Icarus. He’d set him loose on the Cluster, hoping that he’d bring an end to the Draig civil war. The plan demanded it. But now, as the reality of his decision came back to face him, Mori began to doubt his thinking. Orcades Draig may well bring about a reunification of the House of Draig, but at what price? Mori had seen the rage in those eyes, burning into his soul, and he knew that Orcades hated him. He prayed the memory blocks would suffice.

  MOVEMENT

  The blinking light moved closer, crossing the surface of the navigational holograph with slow certainty. As it traversed the screen, Bara’s unease grew. She wanted to move away from the holograph, as if that would help, but the bridge of the Gallus was tiny and offered few hiding places. She’d been putting this off for the last eight months, and now there was no avoiding it. Today was the day. She would have to speak to him, to tell him about the new life growing inside her. The heir to the House of Kenric. Prince Halstead’s son. Her former husband’s child. Wynn would know today.

  ‘Hey.’ It was Faron Dulac, entering the bridge. She smiled at him, relieved that she wouldn’t have to do this alone. He put his arms around her and they kissed. ‘You okay?’ he asked.

  ‘Not really,’ she admitted. ‘I should have told him months ago.’

  Faron checked the holograph, not responding.

  ‘Don’t do that ‘I told you so’ routine!’ she snapped.

  ‘I haven’t said anything!’

  ‘Exactly. I know what you’re thinking.’

  Faron sighed. ‘He has a right to know.’

  He was right. Bara wished she’d done this months ago, but here she was. ‘What do you think he’ll say?’ she asked.

  ‘You know him best.’

  ‘He’ll be angry,’ Bara said, picturing Wynn’s face. ‘Then he’ll be sad, and if I’m lucky he might be glad. Eventually. But not today. Today he’ll just be angry.’

  Faron took her hand. She looked into his dark eyes, finding strength there. These last few months on board the Benwick had been full of calm and happiness, a stable home for Bara and her son, with Faron by her side, accepting them both into his life. Now, the glowing dot on the holograph threatened her stability, and she wished she could power up the engines of her tiny ship and fly away into the mists of the Cluster. But she knew she couldn’t do that. Not to Wynn, and not to her son.

  ‘C’mon,’ she said, standing, switching the ship into standby mode. ‘Let’s get this over with.’

  Faron smiled,
helping her down towards the entrance, supporting her as she stepped out onto the wing of the Gallus and navigated her way down to the Benwick’s hanger deck. She caught her breath, feeling the baby kick. It was just a matter of weeks now. She would be a mother soon, and that made all of this worthwhile.

  ‘Okay?’ Faron checked. She loved his attention. Never smothering, just watchful and caring.

  She took his hand and placed it on her stomach, letting him feel the child’s movement.

  ‘Hah!’ Faron grinned. ‘He’s dancing!’

  Bara pushed his hand away. ‘He’s gonna be an engineer, not a dancer.’

  ‘We’ll see,’ Faron replied, performing an impromptu dance to an imagined rhythm as they made their way from the hanger deck to the meeting rooms.

  ‘Not if he moves like that,’ Bara teased as the doors opened to the largest meeting room. Several aides were already there, preparing the room for the conference of the Harvest Union. The Kenric arkship was the first to arrive, but soon the other member of the Harvest Union would be here. Faron had planned it that way to give Bara some time with the prince before the meeting began.

  Bara walked to the lower level where a large holograph showed the distant Ark Royal Caerleon approaching. She hadn’t seen her former home since she’d left eight months ago, and the sight of its gleaming surface brought a mix of emotions to the surface, a bittersweet melancholy that pushed tears into her eyes. She straightened, trying to keep her composure as the approaching arkship slowed to match the movement of the Benwick.

  ‘The prince’s shuttle will leave in a moment,’ Faron said, at her side again.

  Bara nodded, prepared to face Wynn. The image of the Caerleon grew larger, impressing her with its curved surfaces of stone and metal. It was easy to forget how large an arkship was, especially when you lived inside one, but seeing this giant island of life coming towards her out of the mists of space was breathtaking. As it drew alongside, the engines caught her eye. She knew them intimately, having rebuilt many of their components, spending days crawling through the subsystems that kept the arkship moving. The polished stone surface caught the light, blinding her for a moment. Then, as it fell into the shadow of the Benwick, every tiny window gleamed, reminding her that tens of thousands of people called it home. She had been their Duchess, the wife to their prince, revered and loved. But then she had left, and she wondered how the people she once knew looked at her now.