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

by Nicholas J. Ambrose

  “It’s safe,” Natasha said. She gestured at Mikhail and the others, who had already reached the end. “If that great brute can make it over, I’m confident we’re both safe.”

  Mikhail shouted, “I heard that!”

  They did cross safely, though Francis wasn’t entirely sure how. In one place a hole had been eaten in the steel underfoot, and for a frightening second Francis felt his gaze slip to it, through, to the slice of land visible miles below. At least there was a rail, which he held tightly all the way along.

  “Good job,” Natasha said when they reached ground.

  “Yes, well done,” said Trove from behind, through gritted teeth, as he made his own way. “I hate them too. Wretched things.”

  “Oh, be quiet, Trove,” Ruby chided. “Anyone would think you’d never done this before. I mean, really.”

  Stepping onto the island was like walking into a jungle. A dirty track was cut from the dock through the foliage. It quickly twisted out of view, the path hidden by huge, leafy bushes that dwarfed even Trove and Natasha, and gangly rubbery trees. Even the distant mountain was obscured, only the very top visible from where the foursome now stood.

  “Onward,” Ruby said. “And be alert.”

  The warning reminded Francis of the heavy gun holstered at his hip. Only the dizzying walk across the dock had been enough to make him forget.

  They followed the track. Birdsong came from all directions. Insects chirped and buzzed.

  They’d been walking for close to ten minutes when Francis stopped. “Err.”

  Dangling in the path was a spiked fruit. An enormous spiked fruit: it measured easily a metre from top to bottom, and half a metre wide. Around it swarmed hundreds of fat wasps.

  “Our thoughts exactly,” said Mikhail. He and the others had paused a few metres off, considering the bloated ball.

  “What is that?” Francis asked.

  “The fruit is a megadurian.” That was Ruby; she stepped through the group and approached, stopping just beyond Mikhail. “The bugs are wasps.”

  “I think he can see that,” Mikhail said.

  Ruby ignored him. “See the little holes above the spikes, Francis?”

  He squinted. “Yeah?”

  “Wasps crawl in there and get stuck in a sticky gel. The durian digests them, and then secretes more gel. Pheromones attract more wasps … and the circle of life goes on.” She looked back at him. “Vala can probably tell you more. In fact, I imagine she’ll want to take samples, when she ventures off the ship.”

  “I’ll ping her this location,” said Trove, already tapping at his communicator.

  “Thanks.”

  Ruby pursed her lips. The path was almost fully obstructed by the megadurian, and the little walking space left was besieged by the striped swarm.

  “We’ll have to pass through the overgrowth,” she decided. “Here.”

  Unsheathing her sword, Ruby swung at the closest bushy plant. Leaves and flowerheads fell.

  “Onward.”

  After skirting the megadurian a wide berth, they rejoined the track and continued. Fortunately no further fruit hung in their path—and no wasps. Francis was glad.

  After another ten minutes, the foliage abruptly opened out and terminated.

  “Our crossing point,” said Mikhail from ahead.

  The island’s precipice: and beyond, separated by a ten-metre divide, rose the central island and its vast mountain. This close, Francis could see the windows in the weather station. He could also make out the flimsy-looking walkway that climbed the mountainside.

  “Is that our way up?” he asked.

  Ruby glanced at the stairway. “I think so. Though you’re getting a little ahead of yourself; we have a bridge to contend with first.”

  Like the dock, the bridge was steel, and rickety. It shuddered as Mikhail stepped on with Herschel, and sagged with a worrying creak as they approached the midpoint. Francis cringed. But it held, and they were soon followed by Evans and Peters.

  “We’re up,” said Natasha when the bridge was clear once more. “Come on.”

  It was terrifying. A third of the way along, the wind blew and the bridge groaned. Francis gripped the rail and braced.

  “Why is it windy?” he asked through gritted teeth. “I thought Volum negated wind.”

  “These are wild Volum,” Natasha countered. “They don’t have anywhere near as much power as the hybrids we use on ships.”

  “Come on, Francis!” Mikhail called. “Little bit of wind won’t hurt!”

  “Fuck you,” Francis yelled back.

  The four workhands guffawed.

  “Ignore him,” Natasha said. “We’re almost there.”

  “We’re less than halfway!”

  “Well, set an example for Trove, then.”

  Francis grimaced as the bridge shook again. “I must be stupid.”

  Natasha laughed. “Come on, we’re holding everyone up. Think of the poor guy we’re here to rescue. If we’re not quick, he’ll have to eat his shoes.”

  When they finally were across, a glance back showed Ruby and Trove had stepped up. The captain took the bridge as though it were solid ground, ignoring the subtle dip as aged steel flexed beneath her feet. By her side, Trove looked significantly more rigid.

  “Never again,” he breathed when he reached the others.

  “Oh, hush,” Ruby said. “Of course you’ll be doing it again. We’ve got to get back to the ship somehow.”

  “Perhaps I shall remain here and monitor the weather.”

  “No, Trove, you won’t.” Ruby licked her lips. “And besides: to do so, you’re going to need to climb that.” She pointed at the stairway zigzagging up the mountain. “Unless you want to live out here with the wasps. Or whatever else may be hiding.”

  Trove looked sour. “Perhaps I’ll brave the bridge, then.”

  “That’s the spirit. Okay! Mikhail, front and center. Almost there.”

  6

  The climb was treacherous.

  “Why is everything here so flimsy?” Francis muttered. He followed behind Natasha. One hand gripped rock; the other extended the full width of the walkway and held the rail. That, too, juddered.

  Natasha simply said, “Old.”

  “And why doesn’t this place have a ground entrance?”

  “Where’s the fun in that?”

  “I agree with Francis,” said Trove. He was behind, Ruby at the rear. Narrowness forced them into single file. “I don’t know why the fellow wants letting out; if I had to navigate this precipice, I’d want to stay put forever.”

  Ruby said, “You’re so dull.”

  The cluster of islands receded below. Francis could see the top of the miniature jungle they’d passed through, as well as the steel pylons nestled within. Puceals overhead breezed about in dizzy circles, never landing; without legs, they were unable to do so, instead darting in close to the foliage to snap up berries and insects before pirouetting away again.

  Other islands came into view. To the right was one stripped of all but grass and ferns. Dozens and dozens of turbines spun lazily in the wind. On the left, pylons, and a fat radio dish.

  Half a mile of vertical climbing, and the walkway finally joined with the tower of concrete—and a steel door.

  “Is it open?” Ruby called. She peered around Trove to the front of the group.

  “I’ll give it a go,” Mikhail said.

  “Be careful. Weapons drawn.”

  “Should we all have come this way if it was a trap?” Trove asked. “We’re in rather a worrying position.”

  “Trove, be quiet,” Ruby said. She added, “And yes, you’re right. Regardless, it’s too late to turn around now.”

  “But—”

  An elbow to the ribs silenced him. And no wonder: at the front of the queue, Mikhail pushed at the door. It glided open silently, yellow light seeping out around its thick edges. Wordlessly, he gestured to the others for silence, raised his pistol, and stepped through the opening.
Herschel followed, then Evans, then Peters.

  Natasha and the others waited.

  After a long minute, in which Francis was sure he hadn’t breathed once, Mikhail stuck his head back out. “It’s clear.”

  They filed in, closing the steel door behind them.

  A corridor stretched away in both directions. Like the structure’s exterior, it was concrete, except for steel flooring. (Not the flimsy kind, thank goodness.) Words were stencilled on the walls, arrows pointing away: MAIN OBSERVATION DECK to the right, and STAFF QUARTERS as well as MAINTENANCE to the left.

  “Split up,” said Ruby. “The four of you, head to the observation deck,” she instructed Mikhail and his men. “We’ll take quarters and maintenance.

  “Remain alert. You know how to reach me if need be.”

  They split apart, Mikhail and the others going one way, and Francis accompanying Ruby, Natasha and Trove.

  The corridor followed a rough half-circle. At the end a staircase led down. Their footsteps echoed discordantly in the chamber.

  Partway down was a landing. STAFF QUARTERS.

  “Let’s take a look,” Ruby said. She pushed through the door, free hand to the hilt of her sword. Natasha followed, and Trove and Francis came last.

  A straight hallway extended. Four doors, two per side, were closed, a fifth sealed at the very end.

  Ruby moved in silence to the first door on the left. She thrust it open and—

  The room was empty.

  Three more followed.

  Only the door at the end, now. Ruby approached, gripped the handle, and—

  It rattled in the frame, but didn’t budge.

  There was a sudden, scurrying noise on the other side of the door. Then a parched, withered voice: “H-hello? Are you here to let me out?”

  Ruby exchanged a glance with the men and woman beside her. “I think we found him.”

  7

  “Hello? Who’s there?” the voice called again. “Bosco, is that you?”

  “It’s not Bosco,” said Ruby.

  “W-who are you? Please, get me out of here!”

  “We will. But I need to know that you’re safe before we do,” Ruby continued. She hovered by the door, one hand still on the hilt of her sword. Beside her, Natasha gripped her pistol, aiming steadily at the floor. Francis mentally checked the weight at his hip. He didn’t want to, but the others were prepared for things to get ugly. He ought to be, too.

  “I—of course I’m safe!” The man’s voice cracked. “My colleagues locked me in here days ago! I’m—oh, please, you’ve got to let me out of here …” He began to sob.

  Ruby said, “Who are you?”

  “M-my name is Tesla Wong. I work here.”

  “Are you armed?”

  “N-no! Of course not! All I have on me is m-my d-datapad. And that’s out of battery! I d-don’t have anything. No food—no w-water!”

  Voice low, Natasha said, “He sounds genuine.”

  Ruby nodded. “I think you’re right.” Louder, she called, “Okay, we’re opening the door. You’ll want to get to a safe place; I’m going to shoot the lock.”

  Shuffling.

  “Safe?”

  “Yes!”

  “Okay. Trove: would you do the honours? Francis, plug your ears.”

  Francis did. A moment later, there was a shrill cry. Sparks flew. Smoke coiled.

  The door creaked open.

  Out stumbled a man. Ruby caught him around the middle, and Natasha gripped his shoulder.

  “Hold steady,” Ruby said. “I didn’t give you permission to move.”

  “B-but—”

  “We just did you a favour. I don’t think it’s too much to ask that we check you’re not armed.”

  “I—okay.” Tesla went limp. “G-go ahead.”

  As Ruby patted the man down, Francis took him in. He was small; little taller than Francis, and perhaps even skinnier—though some of that was surely down to the days he’d spent locked in the utility closet. His face was flushed, his eyes sunken. He coughed with tearless sobs.

  When Ruby was satisfied Tesla posed no threat, she said, “You’re dehydrated. When was the last time you had something to drink?”

  “A while. I don’t know how long I’ve been in there.”

  “We found your drone two days ago.”

  Tesla looked like he might collapse and cry harder. His eyes roved chaotically between faces, taking in his saviours.

  “Trove—your flask, please.”

  Trove obliged, retrieving a bottle from the confines of his long jacket. Ruby unscrewed it, passed it to Tesla. He gulped it down.

  “Easy!” Ruby warned. “If you drink too fast, you’ll—”

  Too late. Tesla rocked forward and emptied his stomach. Francis cringed and pedalled backward, not daring to look.

  Ruby looked demurely at her boots and their watery coating. “—be sick,” she finished.

  8

  Eight people—nine including Tesla Wong—sat in the weather station’s observation deck. The expansive room swallowed almost the full circumference of the tower. Windows looked out across part of the arcing wall, and below those were dozens of connected workstations. Simulated weather patterns filled displays; others brimmed with calculations and data streams. Save a cursory glance, the screens went ignored.

  “What happened?” Ruby asked. She was the only one standing.

  “My colleagues locked me up,” Tesla said. He was calmer now, and returning to his usual colour.

  “I got that. I want to know why.”

  “Five days ago we picked up a beacon from a downed ship. Long way off; relays just about snagged it. It was the second one, actually, in that area; we picked another one up six days before.”

  “Right.”

  “My colleagues—Bosco, Hanny and Sanchez—decided to go after it.”

  “The first beacon?”

  Tesla shook his head.

  “Why the second?” Ruby asked. “Why not the first?”

  “First one was a family’s vessel; second was a trade ship. Called the Exceptional Luck. Hah. Choice name, considering it crashed in a rainforest.”

  Francis frowned. “Your colleagues didn’t want to go after the first ship?”

  “Like I said, it was a family vessel. Nothing of value. The second one was transporting goods; gems, according to the data our systems pulled.” When Francis’s eyebrows knitted tighter, Tesla added, “Look, I didn’t agree with them. I didn’t want them to go. That’s why they locked me up. I refused to go with them—grave-robbing, I called it. They didn’t like that, so they chucked me into the utility closet and locked the door.”

  Ruby nodded. “And the drone?”

  “My datapad,” Tesla said. He lifted it. “Battery’s dead; used all the juice it had to make the recording. Wasn’t even sure if it was successful. Damn thing died before I could finish what I was saying.” Looking the men and women in the room over appreciatively, he said, “I guess it did the job.”

  “And the others never came back for you?”

  “What, and locked me back up after they left again?” Tesla brayed a sarcastic laugh and shook his head. “No, they didn’t. Probably ended up crashing too, if it’s been five days.” Voice hollow, he muttered, “Five days. God. Thank you.”

  Ruby was silent. She eyed a screen, finger and thumb fiddling with her bottom lip. “Can you pull up the co-ordinates for the beacons you detected?”

  “Yes. But why—”

  “Do it,” Ruby said, pointing at the nearest station.

  Tesla looked wary. “Why—”

  “Think of it as your way of thanking us.”

  “Planning something, Miss Celeste?” Mikhail asked.

  Peters added, “A little excursion, perhaps?”

  Ruby answered, “Something like that.”

  Tesla had set to work at his station. Now he said, “Got them.”

  Natasha read the details from his screen. She looked to Ruby. “North. Four days’
travel.”

  Tesla looked perplexed. “Why does it matter?”

  “Because,” said Ruby, “there’s at least one ship out there with a cargo—potentially, assuming the three who abandoned you didn’t make it out alive—filled with valuable gems.”

  Tesla’s face fell. “You’re grave-robbers too?”

  Ruby shrugged. “When an opportunity presents itself …” Directing to her crew, she said, “Let’s head back to the ship. Trove, radio the others and let them know we’re on our way. Particularly Vala; she’s prone to distraction when we put down like this. I want to be ready to move the moment we’re back on-board.”

  As the Harbinger’s crew rose and started moving, Tesla spluttered, “What about me? You’re just going to leave me here? Alone?”

  “I was,” said Ruby. “Unless you fancy abandoning your post to do some grave-robbing.”

  Tesla looked fraught. At last, he huffed. “Argh, fine. No sense staying here by myself.”

  “That’s the spirit,” said Evans. “Throw it all away for adventure. That’s what we did, right, Glim?”

  “Well, one of us,” Peters said. “You had nothing to throw away in the first place.”

  9

  Once Tesla had packed a small duffel bag of his things, they were off.

  Traversing the mountainside walkway, along with the bridge between islands, was just as unpleasant the second time. Nevertheless, Francis gritted his teeth and pushed through; after all, it had held one way, so it would hold the other, treacherous or not.

  After passing the megadurian, Ruby said to Trove, “Is everyone on the ship?”

  “I’ll ping for a headcount.” Thirty seconds later, he said, “All aboard.”

  “Excellent. Thank you.”

  The rest of the walk was fairly quiet. Afternoon had given way to evening, and the buzz of birds and insects had reduced to a low hum. One lone song came in stops and starts; whether a solitary bird making music to itself, or several issuing replies, Francis couldn’t be sure.

  Ruby quizzed Tesla. The functions of the weather station, the various devices littered across the islands. Most, though, she asked about the datapad. She’d given Tesla permission to charge it before leaving, though she’d had him switch off the majority of its functions as soon as it powered up. Now it resided in her custody. Another precaution, she said.