Arkship Vengeance

by Niel Bushnell

  THE LOVERS

  Derward could remember a time when he used to play in a field of wheat, hiding amongst the long grass, making tunnels with his friends. He had been just a small boy, but he could still recall the smell of the crop, the feeling of soil on his hands in the reduced-gravity environment, the warmth of the red-shifted light on his face. He must have been only five, maybe six years old, but the memory was vivid and clear. Perhaps it was the moment of discovery that had cemented it in his mind, the day his father had caught him, beating him with his giant hands until the sight of his son’s blood made him stop. Fear and pain had a way of amplifying memory, Derward realized. The moments of his life that he recalled most vividly all involved one or both. Every memory, except one: the first time he had met Ermengarde Barrahaus.

  Ermen.

  He thought of her often, her face lifting his spirits. Now, as the Lupaus rested on a small hanger bay of the Icarus station, he pictured her beautiful eyes, smiling at him. But even that reassuring memory was not enough to break his mood today.

  Derward closed down the ship’s systems, picked up his jacket and left the cockpit. He stole a moment to check his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Sol! He looked a mess. He ran his fingers thought his hair, taming it as best as he could. He rubbed his stubbled chin. It was too late to shave now. He looked into the empty socket where his eye used to be, and that moment of torture flashed in front of him. He winced, turning from the mirror to find the eye patch he had started to wear. Derward put it on, feeling self-conscious.

  The landing pad was deserted. No other ships, no personnel. Just him and the Lupaus. The promise. He looked about, wondering why he was alone. Then, he saw her, and a broad smile lifted his face.

  Scribe Ermengarde Barrahaus III stood by a bulkhead door, serene and beautiful.

  ‘Just you?’ he said, crossing the floor to greet her.

  ‘Just me,’ she replied, kissing him.

  He held her to his cheek, smelling her short hair, wallowing in her embrace. He had missed her.

  She pulled away, staring at his injured face. ‘Gods! I’m so sorry.’

  He turned his head away, trying to dismiss her concern.

  ‘We’ll have our surgeons look at you. I think an implant might work well, better than the old eye, in fact. They’re hard to tell from the real thing, and very comfortable.’

  ‘I am fine,’ he said.

  The Scribe went to touch his face, but he retreated from her fingers. Sadness aged her. She took a breath, and her smile returned. ‘Did you bring me anything from your travels?’ she asked, teasing him.

  ‘No,’ Derward laughed. ‘Just me.’

  ‘Good enough. Hungry?’

  He looked up at his ship. ‘You didn’t build a kitchen in that thing.’

  The Scribe smiled, taking his arm and leading him through the door.

  ‘Tell me about the Vengeance,’ she asked as they walked along an empty corridor. Had she arranged for them to be completely alone?

  ‘The Vengeance is no more,’ he said quietly.

  The Scribe stopped, staring at him.

  Derward smiled. ‘They’ve renamed it.’

  She rolled her eyes and continued along the corridor. ‘What is it now?’

  ‘Evanine.’

  ‘Better. The Prince is growing up.’

  ‘He’s changed.’

  The Scribe glanced at him, a quizzical expression on her face. ‘How so?’

  She was good at this. He always found it impossible to hide things from her. ‘Since their flight through The Infinite, he’s matured.’

  ‘Ah, yes. He believes he communicated with the Infinite Gods.’

  Derward frowned. ‘How do you know about that?’

  ‘He spoke of it to Tanis on the flight deck. We have sympathetic ears in many places, as you know.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  She chuckled. ‘A delusion caused by extreme physical stress during the flight, that is what our surgeons believe.’

  ‘It led him to Bara.’

  ‘A statistical anomaly.’

  ‘Luck?’

  ‘Yes. We’ve tried to contact the Gods for decades, as you know. If they had chosen to reach out and speak to someone, to reveal themselves, it would throw all our calculations off. The plan would be worthless.’

  ‘He believes they did. He says he has seen visions of his future.’

  She dismissed this with a wave. ‘I doubt that very much. But we will, of course, monitor the situation. That sort of event would cause a major deviation from the plan, something we could not control . . .’

  As a former Reader, Derward had some knowledge of the plan. It was a vast series of calculations, a highly sophisticated simulation of the future. The Church worked to herd humanity towards a final set of circumstances that would overturn the destruction caused during the Fracture. They planned for the Restoration of mankind, a golden age of co-operation and understanding between humanity and the Infinite Gods. Deviation from the plan would lead to the slow demise of the human race, a dark age of suffering and death. He had studied the simulation, he knew what was at stake, and he realized he could not keep his promise to Gofal.

  ‘It is true. The Infinite Gods have spoken to Wynn.’

  The Scribe almost laughed. ‘Really, Derward. You were never one to be taken in by such stories.’

  ‘There is more to it that you do not know. They spoke to another, someone who can verify Wynn’s story.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘A bot named Gofal. He is Wynn’s Lord Chamberlain.’

  She gasped. ‘A machine? The Gods spoke to a machine? I cannot believe it.’

  ‘Neither could I. But it’s true: Gofal communed with the Infinite Gods. He knows much of the future.’

  ‘This is troubling . . .’

  Derward’s heart sank. Gofal knew this moment would happen, he knew Derward would betray his confidence. He even foresaw the regret Derward now felt.

  ‘You must keep this secret, Ermen. I tell you only so you can observe and prepare.’

  ‘It could destroy the plan!’

  ‘I know. But do not act impulsively. Whatever you do, know that Gofal has already seen it.’

  They continued in silence, the Scribe deep in thought.

  Ahead, a door opened, and Derward found himself in one of the many gallery spaces on Icarus. Its perfect white walls stretched to meet the high ceiling, making space for the oversized paintings that hung in their gilded frames. The air was cool, but not uncomfortable. He rested in a chair in front of an abstract piece of sculpture. He wasn’t sure if it was meant to be limbs entwined, or parts of a tree shaped into striking poses.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked the Scribe as she sat beside him.

  She studied the piece, tilting her head to one side. ‘It’s called Frequency. I think it’s meant to be sound waves.’

  ‘I don’t like it.’

  She laughed. ‘You never do.’ She reached out her hand to his. ‘I’m glad you’re back.’

  ‘I said I would. You read my report on the Draig situation?’

  She pulled her hand away. They were talking business. ‘Yes. You saved a lot of people. The Church is grateful for your insights into the situation. It has been very useful.’

  ‘We need to do more. Others still suffer. We couldn’t get everyone out. I think it will be the same on the other Draig arkships. I think the Church needs to lead some sort of humanitarian effort to help–’

  ‘The situation has changed,’ she interrupted. ‘Orcades Draig is dead.’

  ‘We hoped . . . Are you sure?’

  ‘The House of Draig believes it to be so.’

  Derward forgot the sculpture and stared at the Scribe. ‘You have spoken to them?’

  ‘They contacted us. I was surprised as you are. There is a woman in charge now, Admiral–’

  ‘Valine,’ Derward said, feeling his stomach tighten.

  ‘Yes. You know her?’

  ‘She was t
here . . . when this . . .’ He made a small gesture towards his face. ‘She was there.’

  ‘Valine has has taken command, and is keen to re-establish links with the Church.’

  ‘You can’t trust her.’

  ‘She has begun to address the needs of her people.’

  ‘She will lie to you!’ Derward said, his voice raised, echoing around the chamber.

  The Scribe nodded. ‘I know. But, at least for now, I think the war with the house of Kenric is at an end.’

  Derward stood, walking around the room. He had to let his rage out somehow. He looked at the paintings, trying to control his temper. He had more important things to discuss than Valine.

  ‘You remember when I saw you last,’ Derward said, returning to the chair.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘I asked you a question . . .’

  ‘And I have an answer for you.’ She grinned, and she looked no older than the day he had first met her. ‘You don’t know how much I’ve been looking forward to your return.’

  Derward looked down, feeling tears come to his eye. He couldn’t do this, it was too hard. He’d waited half his life for this woman. He finally thought it might work . . .

  ‘I’m sorry, my love,’ he began, his voice faltering. ‘I cannot ask you for your answer. This is not our time.’

  ‘Not our time? What do you mean?’

  ‘There is more I have to do . . .’

  He glanced up at her face. Her eyes were glassy, her composure crumpling.

  ‘Keres . . .’ He managed to say her name, but no more.

  The Scribe came to him, her arms round his shoulders. ‘I know.’

  Derward wiped his face. ‘You . . . you do?’

  ‘She has betrayed you.’

  He shook his head, he still could not believe it was so. ‘She is confused.’

  ‘Perhaps, but she has made her choice. She is no longer your responsibility.’

  ‘She is our responsibility, Ermen.’

  She said nothing, holding him.

  ‘I must find her,’ Derward said. ‘I have to speak to her.’

  ‘And say what?’

  ‘I have to look at her, and know this is her choice. Until then, I can’t rest.’ He took her hand in his. ‘But once that burden is lifted, I will come to you and, Gods willing, it will be our time. I will ask for your answer. All I ask is that you wait a little longer.’

  She smiled, stroking his hair. ‘We have waited this long . . .’

  Relief coursed through him, and he kissed her. ‘I thought, perhaps, I might lose you again.’

  ‘Never again.’

  He felt his trembling chest ease. ‘I do not know how long this will take. I’m not sure where she might have gone, but I will find her, I swear.’

  The Scribe laughed through her tears. ‘Derward, she is on the Gargan, with Admiral Valine.’

  It took him a moment to comprehend what she had said. ‘The Gargan. You’re sure?’

  ‘She is their Reader now, the official representative for the Church there.’

  ‘You . . . you agreed to this?’

  ‘I am not without feeling, Derward. I wanted to know where she was as well. Giving her official status means she will not leave.’

  Derward smiled, understanding. ‘I’ll go there.’

  ‘You will not be welcome, especially if Valine has already met you. If we wait until the situation has stabilized, I can request Reader Mallory comes to Icarus and–’

  ‘No, I will not wait. We have waited for too long. I will go there and speak to her. Then, when my duty is served, I will return to you.’

  He kissed her again, then stood.

  ‘You are going now?’ she asked.

  ‘The sooner this is done, the sooner I can return to you.’

  The Scribe stood, holding his arm. ‘Stay. One night, that’s all. Stay till the morning, with me.’

  He hesitated, feeling the burden of duty on his shoulders. He looked into her deep eyes. It would be so easy to give in, to stay here with her and be content. But he knew that one night would become two, and each day it would be harder to leave. His fear would win.

  Derward pushed her away. ‘I’m sorry, my love. It has to be now.’

  He turned his back on her, knowing that if he didn’t, his resolve would break. Derward Tarkkail walked towards the door, hearing the Scribe’s sobs echo about him, praying that he would see her beautiful face again.

  AUTHOR’S NOTES

  Here we are, together at the end! Thank you for reading Arkship Vengeance, I really hope you enjoyed it.

  I’ve tried to push at the edges of the Arkship universe, making the story that bit bigger than it was before. Even though I’ve planned out a lot of back-story, I’ve enjoyed discovering new details about some of the characters, especially the relationship between Derward and the Scribe. There’s a lot more to tell, and I hope you’ll join me in discovering their story. Gofal has grown in importance too. He was always going to be integral to the plot, but I really like getting inside his head. Valine was a late edition to book one, but her importance to the overall story arc has become huge. There’ll be plenty of her in book three to look forward to. As for Wynn and Bara . . . well, they’re coming towards a crucial stage of their relationship, and I’m looking forward to writing the next chapter in their lives. I hope you’ll join me for book three. In the meantime, you can help me by spreading the word about the Arkship Saga. If you’ve enjoyed this book, please leave a review on Amazon. Or tell your friends about it. Or both!

  Thanks to friends and colleagues who make this possible, especially Barry Hutchison and, as ever, Chris Chatterton. A special nod to my friend Bryan Hitch for his ongoing Twitter support – he’s determined to spread the word to his army of comic fans, for which I’m eternally grateful. A huge thank you to my ARC team and other early readers for their insightful feedback, especially B Allen Thobois. Finally, a big hug to my family, especially my wife, Diane; she’s the captain, engineer and pilot of my arkship.

  Book three is called Arkship Alliance and is due out in March 2018. If you want to know more about it then sign up to my mailing list newsletter! You’ll get regular updates on my writing, sneak peeks of cover art, free stories plus lots more.

  Thanks again, I hope you’ll be back for the next part of the saga.

  Best wishes,

  Niel Bushnell

  December 2017