Derward leaned back in the chair, his face tense. ‘You are asking a lot of me.’
‘I know.’
‘If I do this, I will need a reason to return.’
She stared at him, puzzled. ‘Do you not already have a reason?’
He moved towards her, his hand on hers. ‘I need more.’
‘What?’
‘If I do this, if I succeed, if I return, I want an answer.’
‘An answer?’
‘Yes, an answer to a question.’
She laughed. ‘That seems like a small price to pay.’
‘You have not heard the question yet.’
The Scribe gazed into his worried eyes, losing herself in his piercing stare. ‘Very well, tell me your question.’
THE WAR ROOM
Wynn sat in the commander’s chair on the flight deck of the arkship Vengeance. Positioned on the upmost level, the seat gave an excellent view over the entire space. Beneath him were the command station consoles, arranged in a semi-circle that faced the operations holograph map. He could see the information displayed there, and make eye contact with any of his bridge personnel sitting at their stations. Beyond the consoles was a curved wall of glass that gave an unhindered view out to space. The flight deck was situated at the front of the arkship, hanging beneath the other decks. During battle, the entire room could retreat into the shelter of the hull, protecting it from attack. Or at least that was the idea, it had yet to be successfully tested, like most things on the Vengeance. The list of system checks seemed to be getting longer rather than shorter, and Wynn wondered if they would really be ready to leave in three days’ time.
‘Commander on the flight deck.’ The voice was an automated computer response. Wynn spun the chair round to see the doors open and Commander Van Leeuwen enter. He looked old and weary, and Wynn questioned if he had made the right decision promoting him to this position. Perhaps it was too much for him.
‘You’re well?’ Wynn asked, standing to offer the seat to the Commander.
Van Leeuwen refused politely, insisting on standing, even though he looked to be in some discomfort. ‘I’m looking forward to today’s trials, my Prince.’
‘Carry on,’ Wynn replied. He took the spiral staircase down to the ops level and walked round the curve of consoles. He stopped to admire the view out to the Icarus docks, then turned to see a purple robed figure approaching him.
‘Prince Halstead,’ Reader Mallory said with a smile. ‘Thank you for my command level clearance, I’m looking forward to learning more about the Vengeance.’
Wynn bristled. The last thing he needed was a Church spy under his feet.
As if in response to Wynn’s thought, Reader Mallory blushed slightly. ‘I didn’t mean that I’ll be interfering or prying. It’s just, well, I haven’t left Icarus in a long time, and I can’t wait to . . .’ She stopped, controlling her enthusiasm. ‘I mean to say I’m looking forward to our journey, and if I can be of help to you or your people then . . . well, I’m here.’
‘Okay,’ he replied, turning his back on her. He took a last look at the ops level and made for the elevator. As the doors opened he was surprised to see Mallory next to him.
‘Can I help you with something?’
Reader Mallory bowed her head. ‘I would like to help you, Wynn – may I call you Wynn?’
‘No,’ he said abruptly. Wynn was his childhood nickname, an abbreviation of his middle name that had only ever been used by close friends. Hearing a stranger use it frustrated him.
‘Forgive me, my Prince,’ she said quickly as the doors closed. ‘I meant no disrespect.’
‘None was taken.’ He closed his eyes. It wasn’t her fault, he reminded himself, she was just trying to help.
‘Do you object to me coming with you?’ Reader Mallory asked.
‘Come with me? Why?’
‘My training shows me that Readers who work closely with the leaders of their assigned arkship are the most useful. They blend in well, they are an asset to their arkship and its people. This is my first placement. I would like it to be a good one, for me and the Church, but also for you.’
The elevator slowed, the doors opened, and Wynn stepped out. Reader Mallory remained inside.
Wynn sighed. ‘Don’t get in my way, okay?’
Mallory beamed as she caught up with him. ‘Where are we going?’
‘The War Room.’
At the end of the corridor was a reception area guarded by four armed soldiers. They saluted to their Prince and stepped aside to reveal a circular door, which opened as they approached.
‘You have a room for war?’ Mallory asked.
‘A planning room,’ Wynn explained.
The space was dimly lit, no windows, just a pool of light illuminating a table in the center. Gofal was already there, talking to Derward and Tanis. As Wynn approached they ended their conversation abruptly and turned to greet him.
‘Bara?’ Wynn asked.
‘Delayed,’ Derward replied.
Wynn nodded solemnly. ‘We should begin.’
Tanis pulled out the top chair for Wynn. He hesitated before sitting. It still felt uncomfortable being in command. All his life he’d been prince-in-waiting, not caring for the role he was born to inherit. It all seemed so far away. He had a lifetime before he would need to rule. But his father’s death, and the destruction of the Obsidian, had changed all of that.
Tanis, Derward and Gofal sat at the table. Reader Mallory retreated to the edge of the room, watching, listening.
The Lord Chamberlain activated the table’s holograph. ‘This is today’s snag list for the Vengeance. It’s two hundred and eighteen items long.’
‘We only have three days. We’ll have to prioritize only those items that we can’t launch without.’
Tanis smiled. ‘This is the priority list. If we don’t get these two hundred and eighteen items signed off, we won’t be launching in three days’ time. I’ve another list of secondary fixes – the sort of things we can do in-flight. It’s a much longer list.’
‘What about the Caerleon?’
‘Commander Watson tells me they are ready to depart.’
Wynn nodded. Watson always was efficient. ‘Do they have spare engineering teams?’
‘She says not.’
Gofal leaned forward, his arms resting on the dark polished surface of the table. ‘I believe they do. Historically, Commander Watson has been keen to protect her resources.’
Wynn smiled. He always felt better in Gofal’s presence. ‘Unless the Commander has any urgent problems, let’s reassign her engineers to the Vengeance, at least until we’re out of dock.’
Tanis made a note of the order. ‘That should help get us out of Icarus on time, then we can find somewhere quiet to complete the rest of the problems and put the Vengeance through some shake-down tests.’
Derward cleared his throat as he took the holograph control pad from Tanis. ‘I’ve isolated two possible locations for shake-down.’ The snag list disappeared, and a holograph of the Cluster took its place. ‘Solcor station has some resources we could use.’
‘Merred territory . . . I don’t want to draw attention to ourselves just yet,’ Wynn replied.
‘That’ll mean going further out,’ Derward said, adjusting the holograph. ‘The Red Desert?’
‘The Martian ring?’ Tanis said, cautiously. ‘Lots of C-Waac mining going on there. They won’t cause us any problems but there’s a high possibility of being observed. Plus, our latest intel puts the Draig fleet close to the outer edge of the ring. I’m not sure going there is wise.’
Wynn studied the holograph. ‘Then we go to the Belt? Lots of places to hide, no single family holds a claim on it, we should be able to stay there until we’re ready.’
‘Ready?’ Derward asked.
‘For Draig. We have to stop him before he goes any further. Sooner or later he’s going to come after us again. You will have heard about the Sinclair arkships?’
&nb
sp; ‘Yes, of course.’
‘He’s looking for us. We need to stop him before it’s too late.’
Derward said nothing. Wynn scanned the table, sensing the tension amongst the group. ‘Speak freely. Tell me what bothers you.’
Tanis inhaled, tensing his hands into fists. ‘My prince, I do not believe attack is the best course of action. We are few in number, we have only two arkships now – one of which has never even left dock – and we are still licking our wounds from the destruction of the Obsidian. No one wants to see Orcades Draig answer for his crimes more than me, but we are in no position to strike back. Now is not the time.’
‘So, when will it be time? When they destroy the Caerleon? When they board the Vengeance? When Draig has a knife to our throats?’ Wynn realized he had let his anger and frustration bleed into his voice. ‘I’m sorry, Tanis, forgive me, but Orcades Draig is not going to go away. He won’t be content until the House of Kenric is just a footnote in history. Every day we delay is a day closer to extinction.’ He turned to Derward, waiting.
‘You do not need my counsel.’ Derward replied.
‘Please,’ Wynn encouraged.
‘I’m sorry, Wynn, but I agree with Tanis; we’re unprepared and outnumbered. If we went up against the Draig fleet now we’d be wiped out.’
Wynn looked to Gofal.
‘I could quote you some numbers from my battle simulations,’ Gofal said quietly, ‘but you already know the outcome. Our latest estimates put the Draig arkship fleet at nine. Put simply: two arkships can’t hope to take down such a number. If you want my recommendation it would be to complete shake-down tests of the Vengeance, and wait until one of the Draig arkships is alone. The only successful war we can win is a guerilla war.’
Wynn nodded, thinking, trying to hide his frustration. ‘Then we go to the Belt.’
‘I’m not sure that is the best option,’ Gofal said. ‘The Fields of Venus is a better fit. We can convert the resources there into fuel more easily that we can in the Belt.’
Tanis stood, walking round the table to observe the holograph more closely. ‘Yes, there are still plenty of places to hide, and if we can refuel more quickly then it seems like a viable option. Besides, I’d feel more comfortable being closer to the Church, at least until we know the Vengeance is battle-ready.
Derward tensed. ‘I wouldn’t advise it. We’re safer in the Belt.’
‘Why?’ Wynn asked, sensing Derward was hiding something from him.
‘The Belt is safer, less activity . . .’
‘Derward, if you know something you must tell me,’ Wynn insisted.
‘It’s just a simulation, that’s all.’
Wynn shook his head. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Reader Mallory, I asked her to go over the Church records of the Draig fleet. I wanted to see if there were any patterns in their movements, any information that might help us . . .’
‘You found something?’ Tanis asked, his eyes narrowing in anticipation.
‘Something, yes, but it’s just a probability, not a certainty, and I don’t think it’s wise to follow up on it.’
Wynn turned to find Reader Mallory standing against the wall, looking like a trapped animal. ‘Would you join us?’ he asked.
Startled, she edged towards the table, taking a seat close to Derward.
‘Tell us what you have found?’ Wynn asked.
She glanced at Derward, then began to speak in a hesitant voice. ‘We track arkships, when we can. It goes into our database and we use it to help understand their needs.’
‘Okay, we don’t need the official Church line,’ Tanis said impatiently, ‘just tell us what you found.’
Reader Mallory blushed. ‘I . . . we tracked the movement of the arkship Fenrir, the Draig flagship, and, adjusting for fuel consumption, speed and mass, and we saw a consistent pattern emerge. The Fenrir is an old arkship, built over a hundred years ago. Its drive has been modified but it still uses large quantities of iron particles as its main fuel source. They recycle it, but it needs to be replenished periodically. We have been able to calculate the intervals between replenishment by careful observation of–’
‘How does this help us?’ Tanis interrupted.
Wynn shot him a cautionary glance, then looked back at Mallory, smiling his encouragement.
‘When their fuel supply drops below twenty percent they travel to the Fields of Venus, to their iron capture station there, and they refuel. The Fields are rich in iron, remnants of the planet’s core. We can predict with a ninety-four percent accuracy when the Fenrir will travel there. On every other occasion, the Fenrir has gone there alone.’
‘Without the fleet?’ Wynn asked.
Mallory nodded.
‘It would attract less attention,’ Gofal mused.
‘So, we destroy the station, cut off the Fenrir’s fuel supply,’ Tanis said.
‘If we can locate it,’ Gofal replied. ‘There are no records of a Draig station there. It must be heavily shielded.’
‘It’s a bad idea going there at all,’ Derward muttered.
Wynn ignored him, focusing on Mallory. ‘What does your prediction tell you? When will the Fenrir go there next?’
Mallory swallowed. ‘Six to eight days’ time.’
Wynn leaned back in his chair and smiled. ‘This is exactly the opportunity we are looking for. The Fenrir will be alone.’
‘We are not ready!’ Tanis said, raising his voice.
Wynn glared at him. ‘This is our chance, Tanis. I need to know you’re with me. We have to be ready to attack the Fenrir in six days’ time.’
The Lord Chamberlain shook his head. ‘Damnit, Wynn, this is too dangerous.’
‘I know it’s dangerous. I know we’ll be risking everything, but we have to try. If we don’t, then the people we lost on the Obsidian died for nothing.’
Tanis tensed his jaw, gritting his teeth. ‘We will be ready, Prince Halstead.’
‘Thank you,’ Wynn replied, relieved he still had him on side. He was scared enough without having his Lord Chamberlain in conflict with him. Wynn turned to Gofal. ‘Can you work with Reader Mallory, check her calculations?’
‘Of course,’ Gofal replied.
Wynn stood, and the others followed. ‘Thank you, all. This isn’t going to be easy. Six days isn’t long, but I know we can do it.’ He smiled and turned to leave, wishing he believed what he had just told them.
OPTIONS
In all of Icarus, the grand library was Gofal’s favorite place to think. Over the last two years he had grown accustomed to the station and its facilities. He liked to explore the corridors and find places he could rest and observe, and let his mind wander. He had visited the station’s many splendid art galleries, studied paintings and sculptures he had never seen before, their images often omitted from official catalogues. He had found sanctuary in the public spaces and gardens, sat beside the graceful central fountain and let the hours go by. But of all the places he considered good for meditation, the library was best of all.
He wasn’t sure why, but he felt a sense of calm here, a feeling of belonging amongst these ancient records. He would sit with a book in his hand – it really didn’t matter which book – and watch and think. After a while, people would forget he was there, and he would listen as they discussed their intimate secrets, confessed their heavy sins to one another, traded gossip, laughed, or simply sat in quite education.
Yes, this was his favorite spot to think, and today, there was much on his mind. He had reviewed Reader Mallory’s calculations and they seemed fine. He had some concerns about the number of estimated variables, but he had managed to improve the odds on some of them to bring the level of uncertainty down to an appropriate risk. The Draig arkship Fenrir had to travel to the Fields of Venus to refuel at some time in the next week. If the sources of information were accurate, then the conclusion could not be in doubt. And yet, Gofal could not shake his concerns. He had yet to find a signal for the fuel st
ation. The Fields of Venus was a ring of dust and gas around The Infinite, and covered a vast space, so pinpointing a telltale signature would be difficult, but without it they might never find the location of the station. No station, no target.
But that didn’t concern him, not really. Something else gnawed at his thoughts, something that he had struggled to focus on until he had sat here: he did not agree with Wynn’s plan. He understood the tactical advantage of a surprise attack, he saw the need to cut off Orcades Draig’s ambitions, but something about this whole scenario made Gofal feel . . . uncomfortable. It was a human feeling, one that his programming should be able to cope with. His cerebral matrix was designed to filter and process huge amounts of complex data, to see through the noise of information in a way a human brain never could, and yet he could not shake that odd sensation. Was it fear? Fear of the future, perhaps. The terror of the unknown variable hiding inside an elegant equation. He didn’t know, and that bothered him.
He sensed an approaching figure. Gofal put down the book he had in his hands, and stood to greet her.
‘Bara,’ he said. ‘Thank you for coming.’
She smiled, looking tired, and dropped into the seat next to Gofal. ‘Any excuse to get away from the engine deck.’
‘I thought you enjoyed your work.’
‘I do, but I don’t play well with the other kids’ toys.’ Bara replied. She paused to look at him and, as if sensing Gofal’s confusion, she added, ‘Graan has a certain way of doing things. He’s methodical, by the book, while I’m . . . quicker.’
‘Stavus Graan seems to be very able.’
‘He is,’ Bara agreed. ‘We just have different ways of doing things. Anyway, no more talk of work, I’m on a break. How are you?’
‘I am troubled, Bara,’ Gofal admitted. ‘Wynn’s plan to attack the Fenrir; I do not agree with it. Warfare makes no sense, not now.’
Bara listened. ‘Does it ever?’
‘No, I suppose not,’ Gofal admitted.
‘Wynn’s doing what he thinks is best, but it’s his guilt that’s doing the thinking.’
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