Arkship Conquest

by Niel Bushnell

  Orcades stared at him, saying nothing. He hadn’t expected this.

  ‘You . . . you are not Draig,’ Orcades said.

  ‘True, but I uphold the values of the House of Draig. I respect its people and will see that they prosper in peace.’

  ‘You forget your place, brother,’ Orcades mocked. ‘You are my prisoner, not my challenger.’

  ‘But I do challenge you! I challenge you now, in front of the good people of the House of Draig who suffer under you. I challenge your right to rule as Valtais.’

  ‘I do not recognize your challenge.’

  ‘No, but the Infinite Gods do. They watch you and are unhappy, Orcades. They see you kill my Reader and they are displeased. You are the great blasphemer, Orcades, but your time is over. The Gods move through me to cast you out.’ Halstead’s voice grew in strength, expecting Orcades to produce a blade and slice his throat at any moment.

  ‘You think I care about Gods?’

  ‘You should. They spoke to me, and they have a message for you. Come closer so I can tell you.’

  Orcades reddened. ‘Enough of this! Your time is over. I am Valtais!’ He opened his tunic and pulled out a knife. He gestured to the soldiers and they dragged Halstead to his knees, pulling his head back so that his throat was exposed to the blade.

  Orcades raised the knife as he stepped closer. Halstead looked into Orcades’ eyes, expecting to see anger, but all he found was a look of regret.

  As Orcades swung the knife, Halstead whispered, ‘Sawilagaz.’

  THE MAGICIAN

  Scribe Akito Mori stared at the beautiful patterns circling his head. The numbers and equations moved, formed and adjusted as he input new data, but he couldn’t get them into a satisfying formation. No matter how many computations he made, Mori felt as if it was getting away from him. Each piece of data caused a change in the structure, cascading throughout the vast equation, moving the point of reformation further away. He entered Gofal’s death into the computations, leaning back as he waited for the plan to compensate for the new outcome. An island of red numbers appeared, then another, and another. The crimson drift grew, pushing through the equations until the end point became unresolved.

  Mori stared at the disordered plan, aghast. He’d ran simulations of this outcome before, but they had never shown this level of deviation. The plan was a living simulation, Mori reminded himself, adjusted by dozens of Librarians every day, and no lone input was ever completely accurate. Even so, this disorder shocked him. How could one bot’s termination throw so much chaos into the plan? Gofal’s contribution to the reformation must have been much more important than any of them had realized.

  The Scribe felt his heart quicken as he pictured the next gathering of the Circle, where he would have to explain this drift towards chaos. He alone was responsible for the deviation, and he alone would suffer the consequences. Scribes were not above reproach by the other members of the Circle, and his term could be much shorter than he had anticipated. Being Scribe was a job for life, but there were lots of ways his life could end prematurely, and when it came to protecting the plan, the Circle would consider any action.

  He would have to do something to fix this.

  Mori thought about Orcades Draig, and he wondered if Prince Halstead had used the weapon he’d given him. The code word was a failsafe that Mori had embedded into Orcades during his recuperation on Icarus. He wanted some form of protection, in case Orcades became uncontrollable, and the code word was a most elegant solution.

  ‘I am the magician, I am called Sawilagaz, the one of the Sun,’ Mori said as he pondered the equations. The word was from an obscure Earth artifact which had piqued his interest in pre-Fracture history. If Halstead had said the code word, then a microscopic implant in Orcades’ brain would release a lethal injection, killing him instantly. He added this possibility into the plan and studied the outcome. The red lessened, and some of the equations found balance again, but the end point remained unresolved, and Mori realized he would have to take more drastic action.

  REIGN

  ‘What did you say?’ Orcades Draig stared at Prince Halstead, an expression of surprised amusement on his scarred face.

  Halstead floundered. Mori’s weapon hadn’t worked.

  Orcades opened his mouth to say something, then his face contorted in pain. He staggered forwards, slumping into the prince’s arms, his eyes wide in primal terror. His fingers clawed at Halstead, scratching his neck as fear became rage. They held each other, Orcades’ eyes searching for answers.

  ‘What . . . have . . . you done?’ Orcades whispered through his clenched teeth.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Halstead replied, sensing the strength leaving Orcades’ fingers. His arms fell away and Halstead lowered him to the floor. He knelt beside Orcades, holding his hand, watching as the movement of his eyes slowed.

  Orcades’ mouth loosened, his words labored. ‘I . . . curse . . . you, brother.’

  The flight deck became silent, just the quiet hum of the drone cameras as they closed in on Halstead.

  The prince reached out, touching Orcades’ cheek, feeling an unexpected sense of regret at his half-brother’s death. He watched him for a moment longer, then he stood over Orcades and stared into the shocked faces around him.

  ‘Orcades Draig is dead. His reign of terror is over. I am your leader now.’

  BLASPHEMY

  Commodore Orava looked down at the body of Orcades Draig, unable to take in what had just happened. As he stared at the frozen figure, he felt an overwhelming mix of emotions; grief at the loss of his leader, anger at the prince for killing him, and relief that Orcades’ reign was finally over. But then he recalled his conversation with Orcades, not long after his return. He had called Orava his canary. He was supposed to protect him, to warn him of danger, to lay down his life for his Valtais. Commodore Orava had failed in his duty. Orcades Draig was his Valtais, and an intruder had just killed him. This wasn’t the work of the Gods, this was Halstead’s fault.

  Orava pointed at the prince. ‘Take him!’ he ordered his soldiers.

  The soldiers looked at their commodore, then back to the prince.

  ‘Take him!’ Orava shouted.

  ‘The Gods have chosen Halstead,’ Valine said. ‘Who are you to question them?’

  ‘Shut up!’ Commodore Orava stepped up to the nearest soldier. ‘Give me your weapon.’

  The soldier hesitated. ‘Commodore . . .’

  Orava snatched the gun out of the soldier’s hands and pointed it at Halstead. A shot rang out, and Orava slumped back onto one of the consoles, dropping the weapon. A fine trail of smoke drifted from the glowing muzzle of another soldier’s weapon. ‘The Gods have spoken. The prince has been chosen,’ he said, turning to bow to Halstead.

  The others followed him, kneeling to their new leader.

  The pain surged through Orava’s chest, constricting his arm. He clung to the console for support, thinking of Tomas and their daughter. He had to protect them from this blasphemy. He squinted at the console, his vision tunneling as he activated the missile targeting system and locked on to the Kenric flagship. He gasped for breath, his lungs refusing to work, and he felt the embrace of death on his skin. As his fingers touched the launch button, Commodore Martin Orava pictured his beautiful daughter’s smiling face, and he fell to the floor.

  SIGNALS

  The shuttle vibrated, buffeted on the swirling particles of the Wasteland. Faron felt like he was falling rapidly, then the grav-lines compensated, increasing the pull of gravity back towards normal. His stomach lurched, and he closed his eyes, trying to ignore the discomfort. He frowned at the pilot. ‘Best you can do?’

  ‘Sorry, sir,’ the pilot replied, his attention on his console.

  Faron shook his head as the shuttle pushed him sideways. He activated the com, hoping it might distract him. After a moment, Bara’s voice filled his ears.

  ‘How was it?’ she asked. It was a bad connection, her voice sounding distant
, but it still brought a smile to his face.

  ‘Interesting. Did you watch it?’

  ‘Yes,’ she replied, her tone telling him all he needed to know. She had seen him. She had seen Halstead with Valine.

  ‘I’ll tell you about it when I get there. I’m heading back now. Just checking in with you.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ she replied. ‘Stop worrying.’

  Faron protested. ‘I’m not worried.’

  ‘Since when do you bother to call me?’ she said playfully.

  He laughed, realizing how transparent he was to her. ‘I’m bothering now, okay?’

  ‘See you soon,’ she laughed.

  An alarm sounded, drowning out Bara’s voice.

  ‘Missile alert!’ the pilot said.

  ‘What’s happening?’ Bara asked.

  ‘Nothing to worry about,’ Faron lied. ‘See you soon.’

  ‘Don’t you dare cut me–’

  Faron shut down the com, knowing he’d pay dearly for it later.

  ‘Three signals,’ the pilot said. ‘They’re tracking close to us, but we’re not the target.’

  ‘Then who is?’

  TARGETS

  ‘Three slaan-hamers launched,’ an officer shouted.

  Prince Halstead hesitated for a second, wondering if they would accept him as their leader, but then he stepped towards the holograph, intent on appearing in charge. ‘Target?’

  The officer checked his console. ‘The Ark Royal Caerleon. They are turning to attack.’

  ‘Contact the Caerleon, let me speak to them.’

  ‘Yes, my prince.’

  Halstead glanced at Valine, allowing himself a moment of relief, then he turned to face the holograph, watching at the three flashing icons closed in on the Caerleon.

  ‘Com channel open,’ the officer shouted.

  ‘Caerleon, this is Prince Halstead on board the arkship Haukr. I am in command now. Those missiles were fired in error. Commander Watson: do not attack us.’

  Valine joined him as he waited for a response.

  ‘That went better than I expected,’ she whispered. ‘How did you pull off that stunt?’

  Halstead ignored her, focusing on the holograph, praying the Caerleon didn’t retaliate. The Kenric arkship turned to reduce its profile and fired on the slaan-hamers.

  ‘Prince Halstead?’ The voice belonged to Commander Watson. ‘Confirm command authorization.’

  Halstead smiled. At least she was checking before she opened fire. ‘Command Caerleon, blue, six, nine, F-D-C axis, three, one, eight, D. Confirm.’

  ‘Voice print and command authorization approved. Prince Halstead, how are you in charge of a Draig arkship?’

  ‘I’ll explain later. Can you stop those missiles?’

  ‘We’ve launched countermeasures. Twenty seconds to contact.’

  Halstead enlarged the holograph, focusing on the indistinct signals coming from the slaan-hamers. The blinking lights merged with the defense chain in front of the Caerleon and became indistinct.’

  ‘Haukr, Caerleon here. One slaan-hamer destroyed . . . we have one inbound to us. The other one appears to be damaged. It’s altered course away from us, but it’s still active.’

  ‘Confirmed,’ Halstead replied. ‘Good luck.’

  The holograph lit up with the green glow of detonation as the com channel filled with noise.

  ‘Caerleon, come in.’ Halstead listened, trying to find a voice in the confusing din.

  ‘Watson here . . .’

  Halstead smiled with relief. ‘Situation?’

  ‘We’ve taken a lot of damage . . . Need time to assess.’

  ‘Glad you made it, Commander. Halstead out.’ He turned back to the holograph, checking the course of the remaining missile. It was closing on another signal. At first he couldn’t tell its destination, there were so many arkships in the region, then, as the impact registered on the holograph, the target became clear.

  ‘The Firmament,’ Halstead gasped. ‘It’s hit the Firmament.’

  DARKNESS

  The glowing numbers flickered, then the plan began to disappear. The room fell into darkness as the noise of destruction filled the Scribe’s ears. Gravity wavered, then died, leaving Mori clinging to the table as the room about him seemed to turn.

  In the dimness he could make out the faint glow of light by the door. Urgent voices ran towards the room, pulling the door open. Torch beams cut through the darkness, finding his face.

  ‘Scribe,’ the torch bearer called.

  ‘Here,’ he replied, unable to see the face beyond the glaring light.

  The room filled with Readers, pulling him into their custody. ‘We’re under attack,’ one of them explained. ‘We must get you to safety.’

  ‘Who attacks us?’ Mori asked as they pulled him into the corridor.

  ‘The House of Draig.’

  Fear iced his spine. Had his plan failed? Was Orcades still alive?

  ‘Bring the fleet out of hiding,’ Mori ordered. ‘The Firmament must be protected.’

  ‘Should we retaliate?’ a Reader asked.

  ‘They have fired on the Firmament,’ the Scribe reminded him. ‘They have declared war on the Church of the Infinite. Of course we retaliate.’

  GHOSTS

  Bara’s frustration grew as she tried to reconnect with Faron. She gave up, throwing the com unit onto the bed. She stood slowly, holding her stomach as the pangs of discomfort grew, and walked the short distance to the window. The brown-grey mists gave little detail away. She could just make out the ghost-like shadows of some of the other nearby arkships. Beyond, she saw a point of yellow light, a flickering circle that grew as she stared into it. At first, she wasn’t sure what she was looking at, then she saw the tendrils of fire, the expanding shockwave, and she realized it was an explosion.

  Trembling she raced back to the bed, grabbed the com and called the flight deck.

  Captain Beric answered. ‘We’re a little busy at the moment.’

  ‘I can see from my window. What’s happening?’

  ‘The Firmament has been hit by a missile. They are retaliating.’

  ‘Have you heard from Faron?’

  Bara could here Beric talking to others, then he said, ‘He’s on his way back. Docking in four minutes.’

  Suddenly, the room shifted, throwing her to the floor. She dropped the com, her hands moving to protect her unborn child. As the arkship corrected itself, Bara pulled herself up, ignoring the sharp pains below her stomach, and looked out of the window again. There, almost filling the view was the sinuous structure of a Church arkship, the shockwave from its Cube transit throwing the dust clouds into new patterns.

  TRUTH

  The Haukr’s holograph flashed with multiple warnings as it registered new contacts in the space around the arkship. Halstead counted the flickering points of light, feeling like he was in the middle of a nightmare.

  ‘Nine arkships?’ he said in disbelief.

  ‘Nine Church arkships,’ Valine added. ‘We have to retreat.’

  Halstead agreed with her. He wanted to run, he wanted to hide from this new threat. He stared at the tiny points of light, thinking about everything that he’d lost. Then he glanced down at the body of Orcades Draig, and he realized he had a choice. He could be a warrior, he could drag both houses into a prolonged fight with the Church, he could extend their suffering for years to come. Or he could be a peacemaker. He was Prince Halstead of the House of Kenric, destined to rule with an open hand. That was what his people called him. The choice was his. He could decide who he wanted to be. All this time he’d been trying to find out who he was, but it wasn’t a quest, it was a decision. He could choose to be better.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘Contact the Church, tell them the attack was a mistake. Send them the drone camera feed. Show them what happened.’

  Valine stared at him. ‘You think they’ll believe you.’

  ‘It’s the truth.’

  She laughed, mocking him. ‘Grow
up, Halstead. We must defend ourselves. We have to get out of here!’

  ‘I am your prince now!’ Halstead shouted, drawing the attention of everyone on the flight deck. ‘You will submit to me.’

  Valine glared at him, but then she bowed her head. ‘Yes, my prince.’

  Satisfied, Halstead turned to the flight deck officers. ‘We will offer no resistance. Send out my message.’

  He turned back to the holograph, feeling the weight of fear lifting. He had made the right choice, everything else was in the hands of the Gods.

  THE CENTER

  Valine stood behind the prince, watching as two of the soldiers carried the body of Orcades Draig away. She stared at the empty spot where he had fallen, not quite able to believe what had just happened. She had underestimated the prince. Not only had he defeated Orcades, he’d managed to convince the rest of the flight deck that he was in charge. Had he really summoned the power of the Infinite Gods? She scolded herself for thinking such superstitious nonsense. But superstition was a powerful tool, and she would ensure that she made good use of it to reinforce the prince’s position. Today would become the stuff of legends.

  She smiled to herself, as new plans formed in her head, but then she glanced at the holograph and put aside ideas of the future. The Church arkships surrounded the Haukr, their weapons ready to obliterate them at any moment. As Prince Halstead gave out orders, Valine realized she was out of control, away from the center of things, at the mercy of others.

  The Church arkships grew larger, and she considered trying to escape. She could take a shuttle back to the Gargan and retreat. But that would put her at odds with Halstead, the House of Kenric and the rest of the House of Draig. She would be the leader of a lone arkship. How long might that last? No, she would stay here, close to the center of power.