The Ruby Celeste Series - Box Set, books 1 - 3: Ghost Armada, Dire Kraken, and Church of Ife

by Nicholas J. Ambrose

  “Knock yourself out.” Not that Francis thought saying otherwise would stop her.

  “Okay. Cool. Um. I’ll just …” She gestured at the serving station; Francis nodded, and she scurried off to join the stubby queue.

  Francis sighed. He pushed muesli around in his bowl. Suddenly he wasn’t hungry.

  “Morning,” said Evans as he passed. Peters followed, and both held a tray. An irritating grin was spread across Evans’s face as he paused, gave a backward glance at Brie, and then winked at Francis. “Breakfast date?”

  Francis rolled his eyes. “Very funny.” Speaking lower, he said, “When are you going to fix my lock?”

  “She barged in on you again?”

  “If she did I wasn’t in there,” Francis said. He waved off the workhand’s confusion. “Ruby will explain everything later. Look, will you please hurry up and fix it? I don’t want—”

  He silenced. Brie quickstepped back across the cafeteria. Watery blue eyes took in Evans and Peters, then Francis.

  “Hello,” she said.

  “Hiya,” said Evans. He tipped an imaginary hat with a free hand. “We’ll get out of your hair. Come on, Glim.”

  Off they went.

  Brie sat opposite. She took in Francis for a moment—a long one, too long—before awkwardly picking up her spoon and beginning to eat. Her eyes drifted the room, but kept falling back to him.

  Why did she have to be so agonisingly weird?

  But Francis was polite. So he fumbled for something to say, finally settling on, “So, you got the corn flakes.”

  Brie nodded, a quick and jerky movement. She swallowed hard—and started coughing. Dropping the spoon, she clutched the edge of the table.

  “Err,” Francis started. There were people watching. Laughing; he could see Evans and that damn grin of his. “Are you okay?”

  Brie gave one final great cough. Her cheeks burned, and her eyes watered. “Sorry,” she said. “I think it went down the wrong hole.”

  4

  Shortly after breakfast had finished and Francis was finally able to spirit away from Brie, hiding in his quarters—not that they provided much security, with the busted lock—the ship-wide intercom jingled.

  “Meeting in the rec room,” Ruby announced. “See you all in five.”

  Francis had been writing in his diary. Finishing the latest entry, he blew on the page to dry the ink, and dumped the book in the drawer. Then he changed his mind and fished it out, depositing it under his mattress instead. Just in case.

  The Harbinger’s rec room was significantly larger than the Pantheon’s had been. There, it had been a tight squeeze, so meetings invariably took place in the cafeteria instead. The Harbinger, though, was newer, larger, and cramming the seventeen-strong crew into its rec room was a simple task.

  Most had amassed when Francis arrived. He slotted himself next to Natasha.

  “Hey,” she said. “Fun breakfast?”

  Francis muttered, “You could have come saved me.”

  “My cereal would have gone soggy.” At Francis’s dirty look, Natasha grinned and said, “Lighten up. She’s not so bad. Anyway, she’ll be in bed now, like the rest of the night shift. So you’re stuck with little old me.”

  “Little? You’re a beanpole.”

  She smacked him in the arm.

  “Good morning,” Ruby said, silencing the chatter. “I hope you’re all well.”

  “We are,” said Mikhail. “Nice of you to call us together just to check.”

  “Well, you know me,” Ruby said over the round of titters. After a moment, she carried on more seriously. “This morning we were set upon by a small drone. Perfectly harmless, it would appear. It had a message; a distress call from someone trapped in a nearby weather station. Apparently his colleagues locked him up and left.”

  “Nice of them,” said Mikhail.

  “Quite. The station is around two days’ travel out, Miss Brady calculates.” Ruby looked to Natasha for confirmation of this last part; Natasha nodded.

  “I haven’t yet decided what to do,” Ruby went on. “So I wondered if I might collect your feedback.”

  “It could be a trap,” said Stefan.

  “We have guns,” Mikhail countered. “And a sword,” he added with a sideways nod at Ruby.

  Vala: “Did he say how long he’d been there for?”

  Ruby shook her head. “The message was short, and cut off at either end.”

  “It might not even be current,” said one of the day-shift technicians—Amelie. Beside her, Sia nodded.

  Stefan said, “Yeah. It could be a waste of time and resources.”

  “And what if it’s not?” Vala asked. “That’s someone’s life.”

  “Maybe his colleagues will come back.”

  “After locking him up? Why do it in the first place?”

  “More pertinent,” Natasha said now, “is that Miss Celeste destroyed the drone after it relayed its message. If what he said was true, he had access to only the one; if we don’t follow, no one else will know about it.”

  “Well, that settles it. We can’t abandon him,” Vala said.

  “But what if it’s a trap?” Stefan asked.

  “Oh, hush. We have Mikhail and the others. We’re in safe hands.”

  Mikhail chimed, “There could be a reward for rescuing him.”

  Evans: “Gold.”

  Peters: “Or women.”

  “Unlikely, mate. Not one who’d take you, at any rate.”

  “I’ll have you know, when they see—”

  “Let’s vote,” Ruby cut across. “All in favour of investigating …”

  Hands rose. Francis hesitated but stuck up his own. His eyes zipped along the line. It was near-unanimous—was unanimous, he saw, as Vala elbowed Stefan and he finally extended a hand of his own.

  “Well then,” said Ruby. “In that case, we shall follow. Natasha, if you could redirect the ship with Amelie and Sia. Meantime, Mikhail, you and your men load the cannons and check weaponry is in optimal condition. Should Stefan be correct, I want us primed and ready.

  “The rest of you, thank you again for gathering. Dismissed.”

  Weather Station

  (Chapter Two)

  1

  Dawn had barely broken, and already Francis was awake—just. A knock had roused him. Damn Brie, he’d thought groggily. But it wasn’t: instead, Ruby had been standing on the other side of his door, fresh-faced as ever.

  “Natasha expects us to be within visual range of the station shortly. I thought you might be interested in seeing it early.”

  Francis burbled something incomprehensible.

  “Perhaps you’d like some coffee first?”

  So here he was: in one of the empty seats at the rear of the Harbinger’s oblong control room, drinking bitter black liquid and fighting off the morning’s fug.

  Natasha was here too, along with Trove. Like Ruby, they looked wide awake in spite of the early hour. Even the three night-shift technicians remained eagle-eyed and alert. Especially Brie; she kept taking backward glances at Francis. He did his best to ignore them.

  The Harbinger’s front-facing camera was shown on screen, called up by Wren.

  Wren was the night-shift equivalent of Amelie. In her thirties, she was slightly older than her counterpart, as well as a fraction taller and wider, with darker hair. Yet their differences were aesthetic only: her fingers were just as spry as her fellow technicians’, her knowledge just as honed.

  Pale blue skies were underlined by a faint yellow glow from the rising sun. A single wisp of cloud was streaked far-off, a small black dot ahead of it.

  “Is that it?” Ruby asked. She squinted. “Full zoom, please.”

  The dot expanded as far as it would go. It was grainy, but Francis could just make it out: a cluster of floating islands, black and grey and green all merging together in splotches.

  Pressing close to the display, Ruby peered. She jabbed a finger onto a blob of steely colour. “The weather
station?”

  “I believe so,” said Trove. He consulted his ever-present clipboard. “Monitoring equipment covers the formation. The station itself is built into the central island’s mountainside.”

  Ruby scrutinised more closely. Even on full magnification their destination grew only slowly; discerning anything worthwhile was some time away.

  At last she stood down. “Thanks, Wren.”

  Catching Francis’s tired eyes, she beamed and hurried over. “Wasn’t that exciting?” The words came completely straight, with no hint of irony.

  Pretending he hadn’t been woken an hour early to look at little more than a dot, Francis said, “It’s certainly … interesting.”

  Ruby grinned. She looked back at the display. Francis followed her gaze. Still a blurry mess.

  “Well,” the captain said at last, “I should get back to it.” She straightened her tricorne. “Changeover is in an hour—Wren, Brie, Owen, I trust you’ll all be here when Amelie, Sia and Stefan arrive for their shift.”

  They chorused. Francis ignored Brie’s latest glance.

  “Excellent. Well, come along, Trove. Francis: get yourself back to bed. You look like you could do with the shut-eye.”

  Too late, Francis thought as he hobbled from the room, sourly considering his empty cup.

  2

  Lunch done with, Francis looked out from the Harbinger’s top deck. He was alone, Natasha relegated to the ship’s command centre, overseeing course refinements.

  The cluster loomed. This was unlike the others Francis had seen during his time with Ruby’s crew. Where most island clusters were natural, strung together loosely by thick green tendrils, these had been drawn tight. Solid steel girders and rods held the formation together.

  Greenery capped the lower islands. From the overgrowth, great monitoring devices stared heavenward: pylons, little more than steely needles this far out. Francis also spied two radar dishes. More were probably tucked away beyond his field of view.

  The middlemost island towered above the rest. Rocky and grey, it reached up in a rounded peak. Built into the mountainside was a staggering cylindrical pillar of concrete: the station itself. Tiny glinting specks winked; windows.

  “Afternoon.”

  Francis swivelled. Ruby crossed the deck and took up position beside him. One hand fixed onto the railing; the other idly fingered a crimson curl.

  “Hey,” said Francis. “How far out are we?”

  “Natasha estimates another hour.”

  Francis gave a low whistle.

  “Excited?” Ruby asked.

  “I’m … hesitant,” Francis ventured. “But intrigued. And maybe whoever’s there might be able to give me some advice on getting home.”

  “Very true.”

  She said no more. Francis waited. When she still didn’t speak, he prompted, “But?”

  “No buts. Just … try not to get your hopes up.”

  Francis nodded. It wasn’t a statement meant unkindly; Ruby was right. The tech to get between the surface and air was expensive, and those possessing it were few and far between.

  “Are you excited?” Francis asked. He nodded sideways at the growing cluster. “About going in.”

  “Of course. Anxious too,” Ruby added offhandedly. “I’ve already crossed one person with considerably greater resources than my own during this past year; I’d like to avoid doing so again.”

  Francis thought sourly of Rhod Stein, and his relentless pursuit of Ruby and her crew. The lot of them had almost died, and on more than one occasion. But if there was a silver lining, it had sobered Ruby up. Months ago, if she’d encountered this drone, she would have begun an immediate chase. Now she was careful, gathering her crew’s feedback first instead.

  Francis just hoped it would last. What had happened still rattled him.

  “Regardless of my trepidation, of course I’m excited,” Ruby continued. “Like Mikhail said: we may be rewarded for this excursion. Or Vala might find new plants to add to her collection; something we might be able to sell next time we pull into port.” She paused. “Or we may find nothing beyond a trapped man whose colleagues thought it amusing to lock him in a broom cupboard.”

  “I bet it’s the last one.”

  Ruby smirked. “Perhaps.”

  They watched the islands. Underfoot, the Harbinger shifted minutely as the fins along its sides and belly realigned.

  “Where will we be parking the ship?” Francis asked.

  “There’s a dock.” Ruby pointed. “Little parking bay, off to one side. You can just about see it … Stand where I am.” She manoeuvred Francis into place and pointed over his shoulder from behind. “See?”

  “No,” he admitted.

  “Perhaps Miss Brady’s telescope—”

  “Oh!”

  Both Francis and captain turned. No more than a few steps out of the entryway into the ship stood Brie. She clasped her mouth.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Channing,” said Ruby. “You’re up early.”

  “I thought …” She coughed nervously. “I wanted to see the island.”

  One of Ruby’s eyebrows quirked. “I see.” She nodded to Brie, then patted Francis on the shoulder. “Keep an eye peeled. You’ll know once you see it.”

  “Okay.”

  The air was tense, awkward.

  “Well, I’d best be off,” Ruby said. “Duty calls.” She breezed away and back into the ship.

  Francis cleared his throat. “I’m going to head back in too,” he said. “Kind of hot …” He hurried past. “Enjoy the view.”

  And before Brie could say another word, he was hurrying back to his quarters and their vague semblance of security.

  3

  “I want everyone on alert,” Ruby said. “Amelie, you’re on nav control. If anything amiss happens, or Natasha radios to say so, pull the ship out and retreat to a safe distance. We’ll get in touch when you’re clear to pick us up.”

  “Aye.”

  “Sia, you’re monitoring. I want every instrument we’ve got on this thing trained on the island. Radar, thermal imaging, the lot. This bucket has a lot of wizardry packed in, so we might as well make use of it.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  “Stefan, track us. All our communicators are set to broadcast. We’ll liaise through you if necessary.” Ruby clapped her hands together. “Are we all clear?”

  The technicians chorused: “Aye.”

  “Excellent. Trove, Natasha, Francis, let’s go.”

  They headed through the ship. Ruby gave instructions to Trove, who nodded; then she dropped back to join up beside Francis.

  “I need to give you a weapon,” she said. Francis spluttered. Ruby continued, “Just a precaution. If you need to defend yourself, I want you to have the best chance.”

  “Remind me why I’m coming along with you, again?”

  Ruby shrugged. “I’d have thought you’d relish the opportunity to spend some time away from Miss Channing.”

  Francis gave a hollow laugh. “Self-defense either way, right?”

  “I know which I’d pick.” More seriously, Ruby went on, “I thrust you in against your will when we boarded the Modicum, and I don’t want this to be the same. You need to be on-board with this.”

  Steeling himself against the discomfort in his stomach, Francis nodded. “Okay.”

  “Sword? Or a pistol?”

  He weighed the two. Neither was ideal. A sword meant slicing through skin and muscle and bone. On the other hand, a pistol would damn near blow someone’s head off. A shiver raced up his spine and he forced down memories of his first weeks with Ruby and her crew; the crimson-haired captain dispatching the henchmen guarding him at Equity, on The Pharmacologist’s Eden. All that blood. Then the first time the ship had been boarded, and Trove had shot the assailant. And then when Francis stabbed Rhod, burying a dagger into his neck up to its hilt …

  He swallowed hard. Talk about being stuck between a rock and a hard place.

  “I’ll t
ake a pistol,” he said. “I won’t have to use it though, will I? I mean, Mikhail and the others are coming. They’ll be able to handle anything, won’t they?”

  “I can’t promise anything,” Ruby said. “But I’ll do my best to ensure you don’t have to fire.”

  Francis took a deep breath. It wasn’t as cleansing or relaxing as he wished.

  “Okay.” He didn’t add, That’ll have to do.

  “Good.” Ruby squeezed his wrist. “You’re in safe hands. And I’m proud of you.” She held his gaze, and then said, “Now. Let’s get you a gun.”

  4

  By the time Francis had his weapon, been taught very briefly how to switch the safety off and on, as well as how to hold it and how to reload—Fuck, please don’t let that be necessary, he thought—and then arrived on deck with Ruby, the rest of the crew making this excursion had arranged. There was Mikhail, with Evans, Peters and Herschel; and beside them, Natasha and Trove.

  “Afternoon,” Ruby greeted.

  “Captain,” Mikhail said with a short salute. “Francis.”

  Francis nodded. “Mikhail.”

  “Are we ready?” Ruby asked.

  “I’d say so,” Mikhail answered. “Bit of a trek, though.” He pointed. The mountain and the massive concrete weather station built into its side were a good couple of miles away, separated by this smaller island.

  “We aren’t carrying you,” said Peters.

  Evans said, “Yeah. Peters here hasn’t got the muscle strength.”

  “Go f—”

  “You’ll thank me for getting to stretch your legs,” Ruby said. “It’s been two weeks since we last pulled into port; I expect you’re getting antsy.”

  “Well …”

  Ruby smirked. “Lead the way, Mikhail. Trove and I will take the rear. Francis, pair with Natasha and stay close.”

  Francis exchanged a nod with the navigation leader. The prospect of sticking to her, surrounded by the others, made him feel better. Incrementally.

  5

  The dock was rusty. The moment Francis touched a foot down he felt it give.