The Ruby Celeste Series - Box Set, books 1 - 3: Ghost Armada, Dire Kraken, and Church of Ife
Page 1
THE RUBY CELESTE COLLECTION
BOOKS 1 – 3 BOX SET
Nicholas J. Ambrose
Contains
Ruby Celeste and the Ghost Armada
Ruby Celeste and the Dire Kraken
Ruby Celeste and the Church of Ife
RUBY CELESTE AND THE GHOST ARMADA
RUBY CELESTE AND THE DIRE KRAKEN
RUBY CELESTE AND THE CHURCH OF IFE
Nicholas J. Ambrose
Copyright © 2013 – 2014
All Rights Reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the internet or any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
CONTENTS
Ruby Celeste and the Ghost Armada
Ruby Celeste and the Dire Kraken
Ruby Celeste and the Church of Ife
RUBY CELESTE
AND THE GHOST ARMADA
After arriving at The Pharmacologist’s Eden, a grand floating port run by the cut-throat Rhod Stein, Ruby Celeste discovers the deckhand she arranged to purchase has been sold out from under her and replaced with a man kidnapped from the world’s surface. So after dispatching his guarding henchmen, she snatches him and then flees—but not before blowing a gaping hole in the SkyPort.
But unbeknownst to Ruby, Stein survives the blast. And along with the assassins now hot on her tail, she has other problems to contend with: the frail man she kidnapped and his newfound place on her ship, a pervasive series of dangerous electrical malfunctions—and what about the diary she finds on a derelict ship? Are its pages filled with the deranged words of a madman—or does it really hold the key to finding the mysterious Ghost Armada?
Lars Drury Makes a Call
(Prologue)
1
The trill of a telephone cut through the afternoon. It rang once, twice, and then on the third chime a hand plucked it from its cradle, taking care not to smear neon green nail polish on the plastic.
Tucking the phone between ear and shoulder, the woman resumed coating her fingernails and answered, “Rhod Stein’s office, The Pharmacologist’s Eden. How may I help you?”
“Hi, Charlotte. It’s Lars, from Equity.” He sounded tired, Charlotte thought—though that could well have been the cost-cutting connection. “Is Rhod around?”
Swiping a green stripe up one nail, Charlotte dropped the brush carefully, so that it wouldn’t ooze on the desk, and fanned her hands. “Can I take a message?”
“Afraid not; I need to speak with him pretty urgently.”
Charlotte glanced at the great wooden doors leading into Rhod’s office. Closed, imperial, menacing. She lowered her voice. “Are you sure? You know how he is.”
“Believe me, I wouldn’t be speaking with him unless I absolutely had to.”
“Okay, I’ll put you through. Two seconds.”
2
Another phone rang: the one perched on Rhod’s expansive desk. Swivelling in his chair, the hulk-like director swung around and picked it up in fingers like sausages.
“Yes?” Even alone the word was somehow threatening; not an inquiry but a demand for information; information that must be delivered quickly and concisely.
“Mr Stein, I have Lars Drury on the phone for you,” Charlotte said.
“Who?”
“Lars Drury, sir. From Equity. He says it’s important.”
Leaning back in his seat, Rhod reached into a drawer and withdrew a fat cigar. He rolled it idly between his fingers. “Put him through.”
“Yes, sir.”
The phone went momentarily dead. Then it chirped back into life with a half-second tone, preceding a brassy background noise that pervaded most of the lines here.
Rhod waited.
Two seconds went by, and then a voice spoke, sounding rather more nervous than when it had conversed with Charlotte. “Good afternoon, Mr Stein.” A noise like a clearing of the throat, followed by: “This is Lars Drury, from—”
“I know where you’re calling from,” Rhod cut across. Placing the phone on the desk, he keyed it onto speaker mode. Without bothering to stifle the rustle of plastic, he unwrapped his cigar and said, “What is it?”
“I have a customer here interested in the purchase of Property 23. He, ah—he said you personally verified the sale.”
“And?”
“We already accepted an offer on Property 23 yesterday. From one …” Papers rustled in the pause. “Ruby Celeste, of the Pantheon. She’s due to arrive in two days’ time.”
Rhod took a lighter from his breast pocket. Gold glinted along its edges. “Well, I’m overriding the sale.”
“Sir? I don’t …”
“Listen,” Rhod said. “The fellow you’re dealing with now offered three times Celeste’s buying price. So, I’m overriding the sale.” He bit off the end of the cigar, spat the stub out, and lit up. “Make sense?”
Rhod could picture Drury now: his mouth flapping. A satisfied sneer on his face, he swivelled the chair around to stare through the enormous window that made up the rear of his office, and down at the kingdom—the empire—he had built.
“Sir, what about Miss Celeste?”
“Her sale still proceeds.”
“But—”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“Sir—”
Rhod turned back toward the phone. “Make the sale,” he barked. “I’ve got this.” And before Lars could say anything else, he jabbed a thumb down on the hook and terminated the call, then replaced the receiver in its cradle.
Lifting himself from his seat and puffing smoke, Rhod wandered to the window. It went almost from floor to ceiling, and wall to wall: a clear two metres in height, and another six wide. And beyond, below, he watched with a smile as his SkyPort bustled: The Pharmacologist’s Eden, a cubic mile of shops and vendors and patrons, hung perfectly in the sky.
He took the cigar from his lips and rolled it in his fingers, a thin plume of smoke snaking a dirty line in the air.
Yes, he thought. Property 23 would be sold, and then replaced—and Celeste would never know.
The Pharmacologist’s Eden
(Chapter One)
1
A knock sounded at the office door.
The young woman looked up from below her tricorne hat and brushed a crimson curl out of her face. “Come in.”
It swung open, and in stepped a rather tall, somewhat gangly fellow. He was decked out in a long, thick brown overcoat, and under one arm was perched a clipboard. Though it didn’t show from here, a bald spot was just beginning to form toward the rear of his head, forming a ghostly hole in his greying black hair.
“We’re almost there, Miss Celeste.”
Ruby beamed. “Excellent!” She pushed her papers to one side, rose, and strode across the room. “Well, off we go.”
In the corridor, the two fell into step. Ruby, though shorter, was faster, and it was only at a brisk pace that this man—her assistant—kept up.
“How far out are we?” Ruby asked.
“Miss Brady estimates a mile and a half.”
/> Ruby nodded. “Good.” She gave the man a sideways glance, and her lips twitched. “Oh, do look pleased, Trove. Just think: we’re gaining more than just a new deckhand today. The pantry will be restocked.”
“Ah, yes,” said Trove. “New meals for Mr Wyler to molest and obfuscate. I do so look forward to it.”
Ruby gave a tiny shake of her head, smile still on her lips. “Samuel’s cooking is perfectly satisfactory.”
Trove smirked. “If you insist.”
The exit to the deck loomed ahead: not a staircase but a metal ladder poking up through an opened porthole. Ruby took the rungs and hoisted, careful of the skirts bunched around her legs. Halfway up, she glanced back.
“Smile, Trove.”
He fixed her with a put-upon look. “Get up on deck, Captain, or you’ll miss the view.”
Ruby shook her head, but there was a glint of teeth as she resumed climbing. “See you topside.”
Up the last few rungs and then she was on deck, beneath brilliant mid-morning sun raging down from perfectly clear skies.
The Pantheon was part of the SkyHugger class of ships—a strange combination of rustic and techy. Eighty metres from rear to prow and twenty-seven wide, she was an angular, boat-like thing. Externally the hull was wood, but this was only show: it was bonded to a rigid steel shell which housed three inner levels. Apertures pocked the exterior; three cannons on each side plus a large one running from front to back, along with several cameras.
Sprouting from the topside deck were three great fins. Enormous notched triangles, the front and rear were over thirty metres tall, while the central fin towered to almost fifty metres in height. Intricate patterns crisscrossed their surface, a subtle reddish gleam muted by the daylight.
Right now the deck was empty; downstairs, all hands were working to ensure the next few hours went smoothly. Mostly that meant tidying and organising the contents of the Pantheon’s rather empty bowels, ready to be restocked.
At the front of the deck, Ruby stood, resting her hands on the metal rail that snaked the Pantheon.
Up ahead floated The Pharmacologist’s Eden. Even from here Ruby could see the SkyPort’s size; a handful of ships were manoeuvring around it, smears compared to the hulk that was the Eden.
“Impressed?”
Ruby glanced rightward, to Trove, who looked forward with his hands folded behind his back.
“Suitably,” she answered.
“I hear it’s one of the largest for several hundred miles.”
“I believe so.” Ruby watched as it grew imperceptibly nearer, widening by mere millimetres with each passing second. “It’s rather pretty, compared to some of the others.”
Trove made an indifferent noise, and Ruby suppressed a grin. “Smile,” she reminded. “Today will be fun.”
An eyebrow rose on Trove’s face. “Dodging hordes of shoppers? I cannot wait.”
Ruby tutted, but stopped herself from punching him in the arm, instead tracking the ever-nearing Eden.
2
The SkyPort comprised two distinct sections. The upper part of the Eden, home to open plazas and storefronts, took the top two-thirds of the structure. The other third beneath ‘ground level’ held the parking bay, which wrapped around the entire port, and inside that a fortress of metal and piping that housed the many systems, automated and not, that kept the SkyPort running.
Approaching the parking bay was a brief logistic firestorm, and Ruby retreated into the Pantheon to oversee the process from the ship’s control centre. It involved lots of stopping and starting and constant radio contact with the Eden’s technicians—but after ten minutes they managed to pull into a vacant bay.
“Ship is officially docked, Miss Celeste,” Natasha Brady—navigation leader—announced. “We’re free to board.”
A palpable sigh of relief went up. Docking with SkyPorts was never usually this complex; others always had free bays, so it involved simply drawing close and stopping. None of the juggling and constant communication of this place.
“Okay, folks. Let’s board,” said Ruby. “Once we’re at ground level, we’ll amass and discuss.” Turning to Trove, she said, “If you could inform the others.”
“Already begun, Captain.”
A metal walkway, sans railing, had extended alongside the Pantheon. For all its treacherousness, the crew sauntered along with nary a glance nor twinge. At the end hovered a young man in a blue and black uniform, who greeted them all brightly as they passed. His eyes flicked momentarily to the scabbard at Ruby’s waist; she gave him a nod, passed, and then waited a short distance away for Trove. The wait was brief; the last few stragglers made their way off the ship, before Trove crossed the walkway rather rigidly.
“You look uncomfortable,” Ruby remarked as they fell into step.
“I was expecting a rail.”
“Hah. No Benjamin?”
“You sound surprised.”
“I thought he might be able to tear himself away for at least an hour or two.”
Trove laughed. “No such luck. You know Ben.”
Ruby shook her head. “I suppose I ought to have known. He is rather …”
“Obsessed?”
“Studious,” Ruby finished.
“What’s to study?” Trove asked as they reached a set of metal stairs leading up to The Pharmacologist’s Eden’s ground level. “It’s a great round thing that eats and lets us fly.”
“It’s more to him.”
“I tell you what I think it is.”
Ruby cast a sidelong glance at her assistant. He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, and it took everything Ruby had not to snicker—and even then, something escaped her lips. “Oh, be quiet, Trove. Come on, let’s get on. We’ve got work to do.”
3
The Pharmacologist’s Eden was immense. In the middle, ground level was wide open, filled with markets and stalls, as well as fountains and miniature parks. Stacks of stores formed a horseshoe around three of the Eden’s sides, towering at least a dozen storeys skyward. Chrome edges glinted in all directions.
The crew of the Pantheon were already gathered beside a large fountain as Ruby and Trove stepped up.
“Afternoon,” Ruby said.
A rabble of responses, just as jovial as Ruby to set foot off the ship for the first time in over two months.
“Should I assume we all know what we’re doing?” Ruby asked.
“I should bloody well hope so,” said a male voice. “After three days of prep.” A round of titters went up around him.
“You will thank me, Mikhail,” Ruby said, “when you’ve finished restocking the ship in an hour and have another two with which to amuse yourself however you so please.”
Mikhail stuck out his tongue; Ruby reciprocated, before going on more seriously, “I expect this to be smooth. From what I hear, Mr Stein runs this place tightly. However, if anything does go amiss, you know how to get in touch.”
Murmurs agreed. At least one person’s hand twitched up to his opposite wrist, and the thin electronic bracelet strapped beneath his sleeve.
“Well, I shan’t keep you. Be off, and enjoy the next few hours!”
A cheer went up from the Pantheon’s crew, and in moments the cluster had dispatched into twos and threes, all heading off in different directions; some toward maps, others following signs, and those most eager, who had memorised the layout already, to their destination.
Only Ruby and Trove remained behind.
“Shall we be off?” Ruby said. And without awaiting a response, she began to move, and Trove hurried behind to keep pace.
4
The Pharmacologist’s Eden was everything Trove had feared: gaggles of shoppers, moving in uneven throngs that the curly-haired captain navigated with ease, but which Trove always seemed in danger of crashing into at a moment’s notice.
“None of the others are like this,” he huffed after narrowly missing a pair of men wrestling some exotic, leather-skinned beast toward the parking bay.
“Perhaps we should have gone without.”
“And run with marginally less efficiency?” Ruby asked in mock disgust. “No, Trove, that simply will not do.”
The place they were going was a little outfit called Equity. Unlike the majority of vendors here, who rented a storefront on the Eden, Equity was owned and run by the head honcho himself, Rhod Stein. Not that Ruby expected to deal with the man; if the radio conversation was anything to go by, he was entirely detached—except, of course, for his pockets. With a place this large, that fact was unmissable.
They soon arrived. A wide open archway led into the place, all sleek and shiny, the store’s name emblazoned across the arch’s top. Beyond was a small desk, manned by a single diminutive fellow, and then white walls into which doorless entryways were sliced.
Ruby strode to the desk. “Good morning.” Her eyes flicked to the man’s nametag: LARS DRURY.
Lars looked up from a ream of paperwork. His eyes darted from Ruby to Trove. When he opened his mouth to speak, his lips twitched.
“Good morning,” he said. “Do you have an appointment?”
“We do indeed. Ruby Celeste, of the Pantheon. We spoke several days ago regarding Property 23.”
“Ah.” Lars licked his lips, and his eyes dropped to the papers, just for a moment. “Yes, well, right this way, Miss Celeste.”
Stepping out from behind the desk, he led Ruby and Trove through the nearest opening.
The white walls were not walls, it turned out, but dividers: eight feet tall, and arranged in a maze of right-angles. Ruby glanced into a few as they passed, but each was as empty and nondescript as the last. Clinical and showy, with sparse decoration; a lone shelf with two books and a creeping plant.