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

by Nicholas J. Ambrose

  “Like I said, I’m intrigued. Tesla said the trade ship was full of gemstones, so assuming his buddies didn’t get there first and then scarper, we might be able to get our hands on some valuable stuff. Maybe diamond.”

  “Will it be safe, though?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Two ships went down in the space of a week. What if something is, you know, blasting them out of the sky?”

  “Then we’ll blast ‘em back.” Natasha laughed at the alarmed expression on Francis’s face. “I’m sure it’s nothing. They crashed in a rainforest. Likeliest thing is they took their eyes off their computers and whacked into a tree.”

  “Would that be enough to destroy a ship?” Francis asked. “The Pantheon was a wreck before Rhod finally knocked it out of the sky.”

  “It must have been. Anyway, we’ll know in two days’ time. Until then, it doesn’t bear worrying about.”

  Francis nodded. But he wasn’t convinced. And he wasn’t sure Natasha was, either; she seemed distracted, something he couldn’t determine underlining her every statement.

  Still, she was right: it didn’t bear thinking about. For now he could only push it aside.

  Behind them, the door to the ship’s interior yawned open.

  “Evening,” said Mikhail. He sat by Natasha, leaning back on his hands. “How’s it going?”

  “Not bad,” said Natasha.

  Francis: “Same. You?”

  “Pretty good, pretty good. Fancied some fresh air. I hear Evans finally got around to fixing your lock.”

  “Yeah, at last. Took Ruby to get him doing it in front of her.” Francis added, “I don’t think he was particularly happy about it.”

  “You know what he’s like; just interested in his own amusement. He’ll find something else to get his kicks from before long.”

  “Something at Glim’s expense, no doubt,” Natasha put in.

  “Or mine.” Mikhail grinned. “Glad it’s sorted now, anyway.”

  They whiled away the evening, talking idly. Most of the conversation went between Natasha and Mikhail, while Francis fiddled with the telescope. He watched the moon, sweeping over its largest craters, their fringes dark and shadowy.

  After a while, Mikhail said, “Well, I’m heading back in. You guys coming?”

  “I’ll come,” said Natasha. “Francis?”

  “No, that’s okay.” He extended the telescope toward her, but she held up a hand and said, “Keep it; drop it back to me tomorrow.”

  Francis nodded. “Will do.”

  Then he was alone on deck.

  Twilight descended. Cooler air wafted in; the tiniest breeze, let through by the Harbinger’s two Volum. Francis drank it in.

  Thoughts turned to his parents. Summer was in full swing. What would they be doing now?

  When Francis was young, his dad had built a swing for him. It was simple; little more than a plank hung by two lengths of rope, looped around one of the branches of the tree in their garden. Then, when Francis had outgrown it, his father took it down and replaced it. Now there hung a swinging chair, padded with striped cushions. On summer evenings, his parents had sat on it together, iced tea in his father’s calloused hands, and a book in his mother’s as she leant against him and read.

  Would they still sit on that swing together? Were they out there, beneath this same twilight, this same crescent moon, thinking of their missing son?

  A salty tear trickled. Francis wiped it away, then headed back inside, hoping to leave his thoughts behind.

  Test Flight

  (Chapter Five)

  1

  Tesla’s work with Evans had come along finely. And now, the morning before arriving at the Exceptional Luck’s crash site, that work had drawn to completion.

  Ruby sat in the Harbinger’s control centre with a single slice of toast. Amelie was inputting the latest set of course refinements to keep the Harbinger on track. Stefan had a day to himself; Vala had been alone when Ruby hurried into the cafeteria, so probably he was enjoying a lay-in. Natasha was there, chatting to Mikhail over a bowl of cereal. And Sia was here, trawling through code.

  “It’s clean,” the technician announced.

  Ruby straightened. “Completely? No backdoors, no ties to his datapad?”

  “Nope. Completely clean.”

  “Excellent. Can we take it for a test drive? After you’ve had breakfast, of course,” Ruby added.

  “Can do. Shall I head that way now?”

  “Please do.”

  “Okay. I’ll be quick.”

  “No hurry,” Ruby said. She didn’t exactly mean that; now the drone had been slaved to the ship, she bubbled with excitement to test it out. Still, she flashed Sia a smile as the black-haired woman excused herself.

  It wasn’t long before Sia returned. She wasn’t alone; Natasha strolled in behind her, saluting to Ruby, and was followed by Trove.

  “I thought you’d want them present for the test flight,” said Sia.

  “Good thinking. Hold on, let me just …” Ruby cycled through her communicator’s contact list, to Francis.

  He answered a few seconds later. “Hello?”

  “We’re just about to test the drone,” Ruby said. “Want to come see?”

  “Yeah, okay. Hold on, be there in two ticks.”

  As Ruby thumbed the channel off, Trove said, “Should I locate Mr Wong? I expect he may want to be here to see this, too.”

  Ruby nodded distractedly. “Yes, can do. We may as well let the man see the fruits of his labour.”

  Once everyone was finally collected, Ruby nodded to Sia. “Okay, let’s do this.”

  “Aye, Captain.” The technician’s keyboard clacked. A moment later she said, “Powering up.”

  “What’s it being powered by?” Francis asked Natasha.

  She didn’t get to answer, as Tesla cut across, “It’s rigged up to one of this ship’s batteries. Mildly complicated, especially as that Peters guy wired it up wrong the first time.”

  “Glim and Mikhail did an excellent job,” Ruby said without looking back.

  “I guess,” said Tesla.

  Camera feeds winked to life on the main display.

  “Is it ready to fly?” Ruby asked.

  “Its servos need a moment,” Tesla said.

  This time Ruby did look back. “Thank you for your insight, Mr Wong, but I asked Miss Cowell.” To Sia: “Is it ready to fly?”

  “It—ah, its servos need a moment.”

  Tesla muttered, “Told you.”

  “Here we go,” Sia announced. “All systems are ready. Lifting … now.”

  Two images were stitched together to form the panorama the drone’s cameras provided. That single picture now shifted, just subtly, as the drone disconnected from the ship and rose.

  “It’s really slow,” Francis muttered to Natasha. “Isn’t it? How’s it keeping—”

  He cut off. Sia swung the drone around; hundreds of metres away, and sinking below, was the Harbinger. The long ship seemed huge to Francis—and yet there it was, captured fully by the drone as it whistled through the air.

  “It’s faster than it looks,” Tesla said.

  “Wow.”

  For all Francis’s amazement, Ruby’s was even stronger. She’d peeled away from Sia’s workstation and stood staring in front of the main display. Were it not for the console between captain and screen, Francis was sure she’d be pressed right up to it.

  “Instructions, Miss Celeste?” Sia asked.

  “Can you train our cameras on it?”

  “Certainly.”

  Two new images joined the drone’s feed; a pair of portside cameras. They twisted in place, searching out the drone.

  “There!” Francis said.

  One of the cameras had just about caught it. Little more than a black dot, arcing through the skies. Ruby watched in wonder.

  “How much battery does it have?” she asked.

  “Fully charged, it can last about six days,” Tesla
said. “It depends on other factors, though; running off its own brain instead of external control puts it down to about three.”

  “Three days? So you were even luckier we found you, then.”

  Tesla didn’t answer. Letting his gaze meet Natasha’s, Francis quirked an eyebrow. There was a tiny upturn to one corner of Natasha’s mouth, but she too kept silent.

  “Okay,” Ruby said at long last. “Sia, bring it in.”

  The drone swooped around. Through its cameras, the Harbinger doubled in size, then tripled—

  “Err, Miss Celeste,” Sia called. “Power just spiked, and—”

  Suddenly the image on screen garbled. Sia’s screen did the same, before the feed went black and red text flashed. A moment later, there was a very solid thunk overhead.

  “God damn it!” Tesla threw himself onto his feet. “That Reuben you made me work with; this is his fault.”

  “I’ll have you know, Reuben handles much of our engineering,” Ruby said indignantly.

  “Yeah, I’ve heard about that. Spent days tinkering with a broken condenser on your last ship and still couldn’t fix it, could he?”

  “There were other issues at fault—”

  “Other issues, pfft. This ship needs more scientists and qualified engineers, not a damn Jack of all trades. If I had someone the least bit knowledgeable to work with, that drone would be working perfectly right—”

  “We have what we have, and those are the tools you are to make do with.”

  “Tools. Yeah, that’s about right.”

  Ruby’s nostrils flared. Striding across the room in three long steps, she stopped six inches short of Tesla. Two pairs of fiery eyes battled.

  “Need I remind you, Mr Wong,” Ruby said silkily, “I rescued you several days ago. We rescued you. Had it not been for us, you’d still be locked in that utility closet, very likely dead. So you’d do well to cease your irritability and make do. Understand?”

  The air was tense, still. Tesla pouted. He crossed his arms, slow.

  “Fine,” he muttered.

  They stood off another long moment, before Ruby returned to the main display. The camera feeds remained in Sia’s distraction, but the technician quickly refocused on her workstation and closed them down.

  “Instructions, Miss Celeste?”

  “Regular duties for now please, Miss Cowell. In the meantime, I’ll need Mikhail to lug that thing back down to engineering. Trove, if you wouldn’t mind?”

  He nodded and set to working at his communicator.

  “Thank you for coming out to see this, everyone,” Ruby said to the rest of the room. “I’m sure you’ll be recalled to witness its second voyage before long. I have the utmost faith in Mr Wong, here, that repairs will be swift.” She looked to him, and flashed a short and very clearly disingenuous smile. “Enjoy the rest of your day, all.”

  Francis filed from the room with Natasha. Tesla stepped out behind them, then shoved past and hurried along the corridor. Frowning, Francis watched him go until he was out of sight.

  “I don’t like him,” he muttered.

  “I don’t think Ruby does, either,” said Natasha. “Still, never mind.” She yawned and checked the time. “Cafeteria should be about clear; fancy swinging by and seeing if we can scrounge some leftovers before Sam packs up?”

  “I doubt he’ll let you.”

  “I expect you’re right. Still, can’t blame a girl for trying. Anyhow, what’s to say we won’t be successful? I have you to help distract him.”

  2

  “Damn thing,” Tesla muttered.

  Opposite, arms crossed behind her back, Ruby considered the wrecked drone. All their engineering these past few days, reverted in the blink of an eye.

  “Will it take long to fix?” she asked.

  “Probably not,” said Evans.

  Tesla’s lips tightened into a thin line as he sifted through parts. “We’ll need supplies.”

  Ruby gestured around the room. “As before, you have the Harbinger’s many tools at your disposal.”

  “Not just tools,” Tesla said, “but replacement parts. Look.” He hefted the drone’s head, which had come away from the body, connected only by wiring and a pneumatic tube. Ruined eyes stared out. “It’ll need new cameras.”

  “Do we have any?” Ruby asked Evans.

  He shook his head.

  “Then repair what you can, for now. We’ll rig up new cameras next time we check into port.”

  Tesla huffed. “I’m not sticking around.”

  “I never expected you to.” Turning her attention now to Evans, Ruby said, “Just get what you can working, and figure out why the power spiked, please.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  “Can you do that?” she asked Tesla. He wore another one of those pouts he liked so much, but gave his best attempt at an indifferent nod without looking at her. “Good. In that case, I shall leave you to it.”

  She left the bay.

  Without cameras, the drone may as well be dead. Which was a shame: she’d hoped to deploy it when they reached this rainforest tomorrow, searching out the Exceptional Luck’s wreckage in any tight spots the Harbinger couldn’t traverse.

  Never mind, she thought. Maybe they wouldn’t need it. And if they did encounter any hard-to-reach places, the cannons could always assist in clearing a path.

  3

  As Francis doodled aimlessly in the back of his diary, his communicator trilled. Vala Daly.

  “Hey,” he answered. “How’s it going?”

  “Good, thanks. Yourself?”

  “So-so. Bit bored, but never mind. How can I help you?”

  “Fancy stopping by the greenhouse?”

  “Okay. See you in a few.”

  When Francis stepped through the door a few minutes later, he was greeted by Vala’s singing, wending its way through the greenhouse.

  “Hi,” he said.

  “Francis! Up the back,” Vala called.

  She was at the end of the leftmost aisle, a small watering can in one gloved hand. Spotting him, she gave a little wave.

  “Evening,” Francis said as he drew near. “No Stefan? I thought he had the day off.”

  “He does,” Vala answered. “So he’s enjoying it, instead of fussing over plants with his endlessly patient wife.” She shook her head. “I imagine he’s larking about in the rec room.”

  “Aha.”

  “I’ll tell him off when I see him,” she continued. “Though that might cause him to go the other way and stick right by my side … On second thought, perhaps I shan’t say a word.” She grinned. “Anyhow, I thought perhaps you might want a look at these.”

  Vala gestured to several of the tiny plastic plant pots she trickled water into from her metal pail. A couple of days ago these had held nothing more than soil; now Francis saw the first little sprouts poking their miniscule green heads upward.

  “Which ones are they?”

  “Megadurian.” Vala pointed to another tray. Three of the twelve pots held tiny seedlings. “And these ones are from canker petals.” At the look of disgust Francis pulled, she said, “They’re less horrid than they sound. Well, no, they’re not, but the growths they’ll develop have medicinal properties.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Cure headaches, relieve stress … Improve virility. That last one isn’t first-hand experience, mind,” she added with a sideways look at Francis and a lopsided smile.

  “Maybe Stefan will help you find out.”

  “Lord, I hope not.”

  Francis laughed.

  From the other end of the room, a voice called, “Hello?”

  Francis froze. It was a voice he recognised, and one he wasn’t pleased to hear.

  Vala called back, “Hi, Brie. How can I help?”

  “Um—is Francis …”

  Francis screwed up his eyes. “Yes, he is,” he said, fighting to keep his voice level.

  Still raising her voice from the entryway, Brie said, “Um. Hi, Francis. And Val
a. Um … How are you both?”

  “You can come in, Brie,” Vala said, looking at Francis apologetically. “We’re at the back.”

  “Okay.” The word was breathy, and light, hurried footsteps followed.

  Brie appeared around the corner from Vala; evidently she’d taken the aisle straight ahead. Francis did his best to blank his face.

  “Hi,” Brie said. She looked back and forth, and then settled on Francis with that too-long gaze. He tried to ignore it, watching Vala’s pail moving above her seedlings instead.

  “How are you, Brie?” Vala asked.

  “I’m okay.” The girl swiped blonde hair across her shoulders. It did little good; left side fixed, it flopped back over as she adjusted the right.

  “Good,” Vala said. “Starting your shift soon?”

  “Yes. In about ten minutes. I thought I might come and see …” Her mouth worked; her gaze swept away but landed back on Francis. Harder, he stared at the trays of compost. Maybe they could somehow harness his energy, every seed erupting sprouts at once. “How are you today, Francis?”

  “Good. Thanks.”

  “Sorry I wasn’t at breakfast. I was so tired.”

  “That’s okay.” It really was. “Actually, I skipped it. Wasn’t hungry.”

  “Oh.”

  Silence.

  “Well, I’m going to head back to my room now,” Francis said. He nodded to Vala. “Thanks for showing me these.”

  “Any time.”

  “See you later.”

  He gritted his teeth as he moved back along the corridor. Why was Brie so relentless? Couldn’t she see—

  “Francis?”

  Footsteps hurried behind him. Begrudgingly, he turned to see her: skinny and blonde, colour riding high in her cheeks, hair bouncing. She stopped a metre away.

  He waited.

  “Um. I heard Reuben … he said he fixed your lock?”

  All the blood rushed to Francis’s head. His ears burned scarlet; his face flamed. How ballsy was this girl?

  “Err, yes,” he said. “The day before yesterday.” He almost added, Please don’t break it again, but couldn’t bring himself to. All he wanted to do now was turn on his heel and run.