From the look on his face, Benjamin did understand, even if he did not agree, but he nodded and said, “Yes, Captain.”
“Good.” Ruby stepped forward to glance more fully into the room, causing Benjamin to inch back. Somewhat begrudgingly, given the expression that crossed his face.
He had been writing, of course he had; ledgers were spread over every surface, just like always. There was also a stack of plates, the topmost sporting a half-eaten piece of toast and semi-congealed streak of beans.
“I see you’ve been eating, even if you never come to the canteen,” Ruby said.
“Sam brings me my meals.”
“That’s very kind of him. I daresay you would die of starvation if he didn’t.”
Benjamin let out a very small non-committal laugh.
“Well, I shan’t keep you from your studies any longer,” said Ruby. She receded through the door. “They’ll be in soon, and will need to come back later to plug the holes back up. Do try not to give them a hard time.”
“Yes, Captain.”
“Perhaps you could spend some time elsewhere on the ship,” she suggested half-seriously. “Pleasant though I’m sure your beard will become, you look rather more dashing when you’ve shaved.”
Ben touched his face and the few days’ worth of stubble that had accumulated, as if only just realising it had sprouted. Ruby almost laughed, but she held it in and turned away, listening to the door close behind her.
5
Francis wandered up the corridor. Ahead was the door to the ship’s control room, and with it, Natasha. But her job must have been busier than he thought, because he’d come up and down this corridor at least a dozen times already, back and forth from the library to here to his quarters and over from the beginning again.
The door was closed, he’d told himself. There was obviously something going on in there, something keeping Natasha.
He could always knock. Just walk up and rap his fist on the door; done and over with in a couple of seconds. If Natasha was busy, fine; at least he’d know and wouldn’t have to spend his morning stalking up and down the same part of the ship. But every time he got close, his determination left and he decided maybe he’d knock next time, or the time after that—or maybe he could wait, after all.
This time, though, he would do it.
He walked up to the door and stopped. Lifted a hand. Held it …
An alarm trilled, high and jarring, different to the one he’d heard before. Francis jerked and fell back against the wall. A second later the sound stopped, the door slid open, and out stepped Ruby, followed by Natasha. On seeing him, Ruby paused. An eyebrow lifted.
“Good morning, Francis,” she said slowly. She glanced back and forth between him and Natasha. Licking her lip, she said, “I shall leave you to it,” and then strode up the corridor.
“I’ll assume you haven’t been waiting outside and commend your good timing,” Natasha said. She grinned, then nodded her head in the direction Ruby had gone. “Come on; Captain’s called a meeting.”
They fell into step.
“Where?”
“Cafeteria. Easiest place. And lunch is about to be served,” she added with a check of the time on her communicator. “Two birds, one stone.”
“Was that what the alarm was for?”
“You got it. There’s no ship-wide intercom system set up; silly, if you ask me, but there we go.” They turned a corner, trotting along behind Vala and Stefan, who were chattering up ahead. “How’s your morning been?”
“Fine,” Francis said. “I need to talk to you.”
“Talk away, but make it quick.”
“I was thinking,” he started. “We’re pulling into port sometime soon, right? Well, Ruby said there’s no one around that has the capability to take me home, but that doesn’t mean I can’t ask around, right? Maybe someone will know a guy, or something. Maybe you could help.”
Natasha’s expression froze. Her jaw worked for a moment, and then she said, “Francis, I—”
They stepped into the cafeteria. Most of the crew were already in attendance; Benjamin was missing, as well as some of the technicians, who were presumably still in the ship’s control centre. Everyone else had amassed against the rear wall. Ruby stood at the fore, beside Trove. She looked to Natasha and Francis as they came in.
“Aha, we’re all here. Do find yourself a spot, Miss Brady.”
Natasha and Francis took up position near the serving station. A troubled expression covered Natasha’s face. She opened her mouth to whisper something to Francis’s curious frown, but was cut off.
“Hello, everyone; it’s been a while since I called us all together, so felt it pertinent we check in,” said Ruby. “Especially following the past day or two’s events.
“As you are all no doubt aware, yesterday morning we were fired upon by a passing ship.”
“Hard to miss the impact vibrations,” Mikhail said, to a round of snickers.
A smile worked at the corners of Ruby’s lips. “Quite. We boarded and found it somewhat … dilapidated, shall we say. Only the captain remained.” The words hung in the air a moment, and Francis was sure Ruby didn’t need to tell everyone what had happened to him. Sure enough, she continued by saying, “The Modicum’s stores were almost full; as such, our stores are now almost full.
“We also salvaged this,” Ruby said. She extended a hand to Trove, who handed her a leather-bound book. Francis peered, then glanced sideways at Natasha. She pulled a face, something he couldn’t quite read, before averting her gaze.
“This diary belonged to the Modicum’s captain. For the most part it’s uninteresting, but at the end …” Ruby flicked through to the final page. “A pair of co-ordinates. And the words ‘Ghost Armada’.”
She flipped the book closed and handed it back.
“Trove assures me the words are nothing more than the ravings of a deluded man in the grip of insanity. And I’m sure many of you will agree.” A grin erupted on Ruby’s face, an infectious smile that Francis saw spread to a good number of the crew—except for Natasha. “However, given the state of our stores, I’ve decided investigation is in order. On the off-chance, no matter how small, that there is something out there.
“As of this morning, the Pantheon has been re-routed. We will no longer be checking in at The Oft-Trodden Footpath, as planned, but will instead head directly for the purported location of this Ghost Armada.”
Chatter sprung up all around him, but Francis didn’t hear. His heart seemed to freeze in his chest. His blood ran cold. The world tunnelled.
The ship had been redirected. They weren’t heading to the SkyPort.
And Francis wouldn’t be able to ask anyone for a way home.
Dimly he was aware that someone had taken his wrist, squeezed it. Natasha.
“That’s what you were doing in there,” he muttered. “The control room, all morning.”
Natasha nodded. “I changed the ship’s direction first thing; since then we’ve been plotting course refinements, and Miss Celeste was briefing the techies, as they can’t be here.”
Francis stared blankly. All this morning he’d been waiting to speak with her, trekking up and down the hallway and staring at a closed door, unaware that on the other side his latest opportunity had already been snatched away from him.
“I’m sorry,” Natasha said.
Above the hubbub, Ruby called, “That’s enough conversation for now. I’ve answered all I can. In the meantime, there are a couple of other things I need to go through before we dismiss for lunch.
“Battery One failed earlier this morning and caused a fault in one of our condensers. It’s getting fixed, but it sprung a leak all over the bottom deck. Take care if you’re going down, because there are going to be a number of holes in the hull for the rest of the day.
“Oh, and yes,” she added offhandedly, “we were boarded last night.”
Another squall of noise went up. Ruby waved it down. “None of us knows
anything; cameras didn’t pick anything up, thus far we’ve discovered no identification upon him, and he was taken care of before we could extract any meaningful information. The main thing is that we’re safe now. Regardless, be alert.” She looked slowly around the room at each crew member’s face as she spoke, seeming to linger just a moment longer on Francis. “Now; dismissed. Enjoy lunch.”
A small cheer went up as everyone set into motion, heading for the serving station, and Francis and Natasha were bustled to one side.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Natasha said. “We could go somewhere private; library, maybe.”
Somehow, a hollow laugh escaped Francis’s lips. “What’s there to talk about?”
“The ship changing direction. Getting home. Your feelings.” But Francis simply stood mutely, stare lost somewhere within the floor. “Do you want to get some lunch?” Natasha offered lamely at last.
“No. Thanks.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I think I’ll just … head back to my room.” He blinked, looked up at her for the first time in what seemed like hours. Natasha had expected there to be sadness wrought on his face, but there was nothing: he was blank. “See you later.”
Away Francis shuffled, Natasha staring behind him, suddenly feeling much less hungry herself, too.
6
Lunch was a choice between sandwiches or soup, which was a shame, because that meant tomorrow’s lunch would be leftover soup. Still, it made a pleasant change of pace from the days before encountering the Modicum.
Ruby wondered about that ship now, as she ate. The captain was dead, and no one else was on-board. It had been left drifting, an empty husk. How long would the Modicum’s Volum last before it starved to death and the ship crashed onto the surface?
Perhaps that was something she would ask Benjamin. He would know.
The thought of the surface brought Francis back into her mind—not that he’d particularly left it. Why had he been hovering outside the control room?
Ruby glanced toward the corner table. Natasha sat alone. Nothing new there. But there was something off about her; some vacant, faraway look to her face. And she’d been talking about something in hushed tones with Francis before sitting down to eat, pressed into the corner of the room together. Something that had caused Francis to wander away—skipping yet another meal in favour of what?—and Natasha to look … upset? What was she upset about?
“You look thoughtful, Miss Celeste,” said Trove.
Ruby placed the last corner of her sandwich into her mouth and chewed slowly. Once she’d swallowed, she said, “I suppose I am.” Turning her stare away from Natasha, she brushed the crumbs from her fingertips and picked up the diary, leafing through its pages. “Things have been somewhat eventful, wouldn’t you say?”
“Somewhat,” Trove agreed. He opened his mouth to say something, but his gaze shifted. “Good afternoon, Miss Brady.”
Ruby looked around. Natasha had abandoned her table and now stood beside her captain, fingers laced behind her back.
“Trove,” Natasha said with a nod. To Ruby she directed, “I wondered if I might speak with you in private.”
“Absolutely. Trove, I shall be with you in a moment.” Ruby rose, and she and Natasha exited the cafeteria and began to walk up the corridor. “Did you enjoy lunch?” she asked.
“A pleasant change, albeit somewhat bland,” Natasha said.
“Hah. Quite.”
They continued in silence for a few moments. When Natasha was confident the halls were empty, she said in a low voice, “I wondered if you might reconsider our trip.”
“Oh?”
“Francis wants to stop off at a port so he can ask around, see if maybe there’s someone who might be able to get him a ride home.”
Ruby stopped walking; Natasha halted beside her. Frown lines creasing her forehead, Ruby removed her tricorne and smoothed her mass of crimson hair. “All the ports around here are small, pokey little places—he’s not going to find someone. You know that just as well as I do.”
“I know.” Exasperation crept into Natasha’s voice. “I do, but he’s so desperate. Besides, it’s something to focus on, and he could do with a ray of hope right now. All we’d need to do is pick up our old course; a couple days of extra travel, that’s it. We’ve got the stores to handle it.”
Ruby considered. Her fingers fretted at the folds of her hat. A twitch of her eyebrow, her lower lip; then she replaced the tricorne on her head, readjusted it, inhaled—and said, “No.”
Natasha stared. “What?”
“No. Look, I understand what you’re saying. But he’s not going to find anyone; not here, not within a few hundred miles, probably not within a few thousand. Besides, they’ll want payment, and we don’t have enough to cover the jumped-up prices those sorts of people will be asking.
“Beyond that, we were boarded last night, lest you forget. It’s imperative we get out of the area; it’s a matter of safety.
“For now we’re searching for the Ghost Armada. Then we can check into port and Francis can ask around. Otherwise, he’s just going to have to wait. Whether we go now or later, the result is the same. He’s stuck here.”
Tension hung in the air, thick and palpable. Natasha stared at her captain, and for a long, drawn-out moment, Ruby thought she would say something to challenge her, or her face would betray the anger she was sure she could feel pulsing beneath the navigation leader’s veins. But as the seconds ticked by nothing happened, and finally Natasha gave a very curt nod and said, “Very well.” Snapping a salute, she turned back the way they’d come and marched away.
7
It was not unheard of for Ruby to stand over a body as the Pantheon’s resident doctor sewed it back up, but the occurrence was rare. Fortunately, on this occasion it wasn’t one of her crew in the process of being restitched.
“There was nothing at all?”
“Not a thing,” said Darrel. He spoke from behind a bloody mouth guard. Blood also smeared his coveralls in browning patches. “Not that I expected to find anything, having said that. It was just nice to be able to keep in practise.”
“I thought perhaps there might be something on him. In him,” Ruby said, more to herself than Darrel.
“Ah yes, there might have been. And better safe than sorry.” Darrel bent forward, pulled the final stitch tight, and cut the thread. “There. All finished.”
Ruby pondered as the doctor set about removing his coveralls. Nothing in the man’s clothes, no embedded identichips. Completely anonymous. Which meant he could have come from anywhere—though if what Natasha had passed on from Francis about having been referred to as ‘stolen property’ was true, it was likely he’d come from The Pharmacologist’s Eden.
If.
“What shall we do with him?” Darrel asked, snapping Ruby from her thoughts.
“Dump him overboard. Little worth in keeping him. He’s just … meat,” she said with distaste, waving a hand at the corpse.
“I’ll bag him up.” As Darrel pulled on a new pair of latex gloves, then a single body bag from a pull-out drawer beneath the bed the autopsy had been performed on, he said, “Will you be sending one of Mikhail’s lads to do it?”
Ruby shook her head. “I’ll take him.”
“Ah.”
“It was me he was after; seems fitting, wouldn’t you say?”
“Hah, well, I suppose so, in that case.”
Darrel opened the body bag and laid it upside-down over the corpse. Ruby sidestepped him, pulled on a pair of gloves of her own, and helped as they manoeuvred the bag around the dead man’s extremities. Finally they flipped it over, the man nestled safely inside, and zipped it up.
“Thanks, Darrel,” Ruby said. Carefully she pulled off her gloves, and threw them into the trash.
“Not a problem. Like I said, good to keep in practise.”
Hefting the body over her shoulder, Ruby left the medical bay. This man had been lithe; trained with a gun,
not swords and heavy lifting. Despite that, he wasn’t as light as she’d expected—or maybe her lack of sleep was finally gaining on her.
Trove waited outside. He gave the body bag an unpleasant look, then fell into step beside Ruby.
“Any luck?” he asked.
“No, unfortunately. Still, doesn’t matter; Natasha took us off in the middle of the night, so we’re safe. And now we’ve changed direction entirely, this man’s buddies aren’t going to find us.”
“You’re dumping the body?”
“Perhaps,” said Ruby. “I wondered if maybe Samuel might like it if I added it to the pantry. Give us something a little bit different to eat.” She glanced sideways at Trove’s paled face, and laughed. “Yes, I’m dumping it.”
“I see. I expect I’ll regret asking this, but how do you plan on getting it through the porthole by yourself? Mikhail usually has one of the others help him.”
Ruby pulled her most dazzling smile. “Well, Trove, seeing as you’re here perhaps you can assist me.”
He sighed. “I thought you’d say that.”
Extricating the body through the porthole wasn’t too difficult, though Ruby did think Trove might lose his lunch as he manhandled it up into her waiting arms.
“On our next ship,” he panted, clutching the rungs of the ladder once the task was complete, “we should have a regular door onto the deck, instead of a hole you can only get through by ladder.”
Ruby tutted. “What do you mean, next ship? Do you expect me to crash this one?”
“Expect, no. But hope, after that …”
Smirking, Ruby dismissed him. “Have a sit-down; I’ll meet up with you again later.”
“For more pleasant jobs like this one? I look forward to it.”
Ruby hefted the body back onto her shoulder and wandered up the deck, heading for the ship’s rear. At the back railing, she stopped, then tossed the bag forward in as unceremonious a fashion she could muster. Leaning over the edge, she watched the black shape tumble until it was a smear, then a dot, and then gone.
The Ruby Celeste Series - Box Set, books 1 - 3: Ghost Armada, Dire Kraken, and Church of Ife Page 9