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

by Nicholas J. Ambrose

  Natasha shook her head. She slumped against the wall behind Brie’s console. The blonde girl ogled the two women duking it out. Even Francis remained forgotten.

  “I think you’re making a mistake,” Natasha said.

  “Well, if I am then I’ll allow you the pleasure of telling me you told me so.” Ruby turned. “Now, Miss Telford, if you please: pulse our radar.”

  Data flooded the ship’s sensors. On screen, the Harbinger began to construct an image of the hulking behemoth of machinery obscured beneath. Starting a lumpy blur, as the Harbinger fired inaudibly and listened for its echo, the overlay resolved. Spires and turrets discerned from the ovular mass. In the centre was a cascading, angular spiral, like the head of a rose rendered in straight edges.

  Something chimed.

  “Something just pinged us,” Amelie warned.

  Shit. “Pull us out,” Ruby instructed. “Now.”

  The ship jerked in a quick turn.

  “Contact!”

  Camera feeds filled the main display. Peeling away—too slowly, Francis thought—was the shield of cloud. And surging from beneath, a brackish dark thing: swampy, mottled, skin pocked by terrifying spines. Half of its face was missing, black and boiled at the edges—and beneath, torn open, was a shell of metal.

  Cold terror filled Francis’s chest as, once again, the kraken screamed across empty space, heading directly for the ship.

  5

  “Brace!”

  Alarms wailed.

  Francis threw his arms over his head—

  No impact came.

  Breathing hard, he prised his eyes open. Through the gap in his arms, he stared at the main display.

  Someone asked, “What happened?”

  The kraken had come to a juddering halt. Hovering awkwardly, its mass of tentacles twisted in imprecise undulations. Beneath the klaxon that warned the Harbinger’s occupants to be ready for the worst, Francis made out a keening wail. But this was no creature’s cry: it sounded metallic, the digitised shriek garbled.

  Ruby stared. “That thing is—it’s mechanical?”

  “I knew it!” Natasha shouted. “I knew there was no such thing as a kraken!”

  “Yes, yes, you told me so.” Ruby waved her aside. “What’s wrong with it?”

  “Its systems must’ve been comprised when it was struck by lightning.” Natasha stepped forward. “I don’t understand, though. That thing—” she pointed at the enormous machine cocooned in white “—is pumping out cloud cover. So it made the storm too? The same storm that hit the kraken? It fucked itself.”

  “We hit it,” Ruby said. “With our cannons. Something must have been exposed.”

  She thought. The only sound was the warbling klaxon.

  Then she said, “Stop the ship.”

  “What?”

  “Stop the ship. We’re going in for a look.”

  Natasha started, “That’s crazy.”

  “Look at it!” Ruby jabbed a finger at the screen. “It’s broken. And there’s a hole in it! Maybe if we get close we can take a look inside.”

  Natasha gaped. “You—you’re—”

  “Under my command,” Ruby finished. “This is an order: stop the ship and bring her back around. We’re taking a closer look. Sia, the alarm, if you please.”

  The warble ceased.

  “Am I going to need to reiterate my order?” Ruby asked.

  She expected the black-haired woman to challenge. But Natasha didn’t. Begrudgingly, she said, “No.” To her technicians: “You heard Miss Celeste. Bring the Harbinger back in. Slow.” And in what Francis suspected was supposed to be an undertone, but was spoken loud enough for all in the room to hear, she added, “And be fucking ready to move if it looks like your captain is wrong.”

  Ruby watched as the kraken drew closer once more on screen. It remained stationary, though its tentacles continued their twitching, jerking movements.

  Francis’s heart fluttered. This was dangerous. Last time the kraken had almost destroyed the ship. Their salvation had been the thunderheads that had swallowed the afternoon, Harbinger and kraken and all. Today the skies were clear: either whatever was in the cloud was broken too, or it knew well enough not to endanger the kraken again.

  The kraken grew large enough to take up the full screen.

  If its malfunctions ceased long enough for it to lash out even once, they were done.

  A great face filled the display. Terrifically large, it was a horrifying blackened mask where the lightning strike had bubbled and ruined its hide. Beneath, sheeted steel. A hole was torn open, two metres by two, edges terminating abruptly. Inside the floor of a corridor was just visible, but little more: its confines were dark.

  “What the hell is going on here?” Ruby breathed.

  Suddenly, Brie stood. “Francis.”

  He looked. Others did, too.

  God, what was he in for this time? And why now?

  “This isn’t really the time,” Wren warned.

  It went unheeded. Looking steely, Brie’s stare stuck to Francis.

  “I know what to do,” she said.

  Before anyone could react, she marched across the room and out of the door.

  “What’s she doing?” Wren asked. She rose.

  “Where are you going?” Ruby asked. “I need you here.”

  “Brie’s gone—”

  “I’ll go after her,” Francis sighed. “Hold on. Back in a second.”

  Huffing, he headed up the corridor the way Brie had gone. He just saw her at the end, moving out of sight. “Brie!” She didn’t stop, so he jogged to catch up.

  He caught her at the stairs. “What are you doing?”

  “You don’t like me because I’m not daring, or dangerous,” she said. She marched two steps at a time. Francis had to hurry to keep up.

  “This isn’t exactly an appropriate time—Brie, what are you doing?”

  Past the entrance to Vala’s greenhouse, and to the door onto the top deck. The blonde girl pushed the handle open and stepped out, and Francis hurried behind her.

  The sky should have been blue. Instead it was mired by the seething mass of the kraken’s grotesquely moving tentacles, and its bulbous, ruined head. What had once been a false eye stared down like something wrought from a nightmare.

  Francis froze. Terror gripped his chest. It was so huge! And they were so close!

  What if it starts working again? What if it hits the ship?

  And then, more alarmed: We’re on deck!

  “Brie!”

  She was across the deck, marching to the front of the ship. At the rail, she turned.

  “I’m going to prove to you that I am daring. I can be just as brave as you, or Miss Celeste, or Miss Brady—or any of them!”

  “Brie, what are you—”

  She vaulted the rail.

  She’s going to jump!

  “Brie!”

  He flew across the deck, arm extended.

  “Brie, don’t—”

  Too late. With a final frightened look back, Brie released her hold on the Harbinger’s rail and jumped.

  6

  “BRIE!”

  Francis slammed into the railing and gripped. He searched desperately. Had she fallen?

  The kraken shifted.

  There!

  A whisper of blonde in that cavity in its face—

  But that was all Francis got to see. Suddenly the kraken was lurching again, a garbled shriek ripping through the air. It shuddered—and then lifted one of its great tentacles in the first smooth motion it had demonstrated in minutes.

  Francis thrust himself back and spun, hurtling for the door into the ship.

  Behind, the kraken roared again.

  The tentacle descended—

  The Harbinger spun. Francis fell; he hit the deck on his side.

  The tentacle sailed through the air where the Harbinger had been barely moments before. It nicked the very edge of the ship in a frightening vibration, but no more.

/>   And then it was receding from sight.

  7

  “What are you doing?” Francis shouted before he’d even got back into the Harbinger’s control room. “Turn the ship around!”

  “That thing just—”

  “Brie jumped!” he cried. “She just jumped over the edge of the fucking ship and landed in that thing! We have to go back to get her!”

  “We saw,” Wren said acidly. “This bucket has cameras.”

  “Then why aren’t we turning around?”

  Amelie jabbed a finger at the main display. “That’s why.”

  The kraken sailed after them. Its movements were clunky and slow, but the Harbinger’s brief spot of luck had expired. Whatever kinks had been in the kraken’s operating system were gone, and it followed, wailing that same garbled digital noise.

  “We need to turn around!” Francis shouted. “We have to go back!”

  “We can’t,” said Ruby. “Not while it’s coming—”

  “We need to rescue her!”

  “How?” Wren demanded. “Got a plan?”

  “I—”

  “It has to stop again,” Natasha said. “When it does, we can park and grab her before it reactivates.”

  “What if it doesn’t stop?” Francis cried. “What if she’s hurt?” Renewed panic exploded through his veins. “She was right by the hole! What if she falls out? We have to save her!”

  “We can’t while it’s on the assault!” As if to emphasise Amelie’s cry, the Harbinger diverted its path with a sudden ninety-degree twist. Francis slammed the wall. “There’s no way to get close enough!”

  “Is she in communicator range?” Ruby asked.

  Sia: “Should be.”

  “Try hailing her.”

  Francis’s hands flew. He cycled through his communicator’s contact list. Amelie Telford, then Brie Channing. He hit too hard and went past her. Grunting, he cycled back.

  It trilled.

  “Come on,” he whispered. “Come on!”

  The Harbinger twisted again. Something hit the ship with a low thump; a glancing blow. The kraken was getting more accurate.

  “She didn’t answer!” Francis cried.

  Ruby: “Shit.”

  The ship forked again. This time the Harbinger bucked as a tentacle swiped it off-course.

  Amelie shouted, “It’s not stopping!”

  “This is all my fault,” Francis said. He clenched his fists, knuckles white.

  Wren: “Well fucking done, you prick!”

  Ruby: “Miss Beckers!”

  Francis’s mind raced. There had to be something.

  “What if it can be deactivated?” he asked. “It—its systems must be self-contained. Somewhere in there is a … a control centre, like this. It could be stopped.”

  “Excellent plan, except for one thing,” Wren said. “The only person who could do that isn’t answering our calls.”

  “I—I could jump.” Faces jerked around. “I could get in there. Check she’s okay. And then stop it from attacking.” Francis looked up, to Ruby. “So you could save us.”

  Ruby said, “Francis, you can’t …”

  “She did this because of me! This is my fault!”

  “It’s not—”

  “She did this to impress me.” Francis heaved. “I have to save her. I have to do this.” He swallowed hard. His heart pounded a frantic beat. “I have to.”

  “We could fire the cannons,” Stefan said from the rear.

  “What if she gets hurt? If one goes through the hole, she’ll be dead. No. I have to jump. It’s the only way.”

  Ruby: “Francis …”

  “Get the ship up in the air, above it,” Francis said. “If I time it right, I can get in there and stop it.”

  He expected Ruby to fight. He was sure she would. But she exchanged a glance with Trove, then Natasha, and nodded. “Okay,” she said. “What if there’s anything in there? People?”

  Francis thought fast.

  The Harbinger corkscrewed. They were running out of time; ship and Brie both.

  He looked to Trove. “I’m going to need this.” Reaching into Trove’s inside pocket, Francis pulled out his bulky gun, just as Natasha had a few months ago. It had looked too big in her hands. Somehow it seemed even huger in Francis’s.

  “Mr Paige,” Trove started.

  “Just tell me how to turn the safety off.”

  Trove fingered a tiny switch. “There.”

  Francis nodded. “Okay.” He looked back to the rest of the room. Faces were torn between their stations and watching him.

  “Okay,” he repeated. “I’ll—I’ll see you soon.”

  As he strode from the room, he prayed those last words were right.

  8

  Francis stepped out on deck. He thought his chest might explode, so fast his heart raced.

  The air whipped.

  A seething tentacle arced skyward from beneath. The Harbinger turned out of its path. Francis stumbled, then righted. From below came a great digitised roar.

  Across the deck. To the rail.

  He gripped it one-handed.

  Tuck the gun into your belt, you idiot.

  He checked the safety was on and shoved it in. The barrel was cold, solid. Just its presence was frightening.

  “Okay,” he said. “Like when we boarded the Modicum. One leg first, and then the other. One leg, then the other.”

  Left leg, first. He couldn’t look down—but he would have to. He needed to be able to see. For now he felt with his foot for the tiny ledge beyond the rail. Fear convinced him he’d missed it, and would overbalance—he gasped—and then his heel found purchase, and he planted his foot firmly down.

  Now the other.

  This was harder. Francis almost thought he wouldn’t. But another angered shriek came from the kraken, and he remembered Brie: the way she’d tossed herself overboard, all in the stupid name of gaining his affection. Tiny, seventeen-year-old Brie Channing, who was now sprawled—he hoped—somewhere in the kraken’s metal confines.

  Eyes closed tight, hands gripping tighter, Francis lifted his other leg and stepped over the rail.

  Now he stood on the Harbinger’s precipice. The only thing keeping him rooted to the spot was his iron hold on the rail behind him.

  “Look,” he commanded.

  I can’t.

  “Look!”

  I can’t!

  “Look, God fucking damn it!”

  He forced his eyes open.

  There it was. The kraken, chasing the Harbinger from below. Beyond, miles and miles of empty atmosphere.

  It was a long way down if he missed.

  “Then make it fucking count,” he whispered through gritted teeth.

  He watched. There was the opening, spiralling as Harbinger and kraken twisted.

  What if I miss?

  Another voice, the surer one: You won’t. You can do this.

  “I can do this.”

  Francis stared. The kraken was gaining.

  Tentacles whirled.

  Metal glinted.

  Now.

  Spinning—

  Jump. Now.

  Waltzing—

  A vast tentacle lifted—

  Jump!

  It sailed closer in a deathly swing—

  JUMP, FRANCIS, FUCKING JUMP NOW!

  “NOW!” he screamed.

  Eyes slammed tight, Francis released his hold on the Harbinger—and leapt.

  Taking the Kraken

  (Chapter Eleven)

  1

  Francis hit metal, rolled, and slammed into the wall.

  Almost instantly the kraken bucked. Francis yelled as he was thrown toward the gaping hole he’d just come through, and grabbed the nearest edge before careening out. Land spun dizzyingly far below, and then he fell against the rear wall, gasping for air.

  Where’s Brie?

  He spun desperately—

  There!

  Francis scrabbled to her tiny slumped form. She�
��d been jostled a few metres away from the opening, saved from falling into the abyss.

  “Brie!” He grabbed her shoulders. Fingers pressed to her neck for—a pulse! She was alive! He prised her mouth open, checked her airway was clear. Her head lolled in his grip. “Brie!”

  No response. The girl was out cold.

  His communicator chimed; Ruby. Bracing himself and Brie against the wall, Francis opened the channel.

  “I’m here.”

  “You made it.” Ruby’s relief was clear even over the weak connection. “Is Brie—”

  “She’s here too.” As it to re-emphasise that fact, Francis gripped her tighter, solidifying her presence. “Unconscious, but she’s alive.”

  “Thank goodness. She’s alive, everyone!”

  There was a faint background cheer over the line. Then the communicator cut into silence. Francis hammered at buttons.

  The connection re-established. “—pursued; we can’t—”

  “What? I’m losing you!”

  “—drifting out of range. We can’t get close enough—pick you up—”

  The connection silenced again. Francis waited, but this time it didn’t resurrect itself.

  Great. So he was inside a metal monster as it tried to kill everyone back on the ship he called home, trapped with nothing more than a communicator that couldn’t shout far enough, and a blonde girl who was currently sprawled in an unconscious heap.

  She groaned.

  Francis jumped and crouched closer to her. “Brie? Brie, are you okay?”

  She coughed—and then opened her eyes, spluttered and started crying.

  “Brie!” Francis helped her into a sitting position against the wall. “What’s—what—”

  “I’m so st-stupid,” she moaned. “I just thought …”

  “It’s fine,” said Francis. “You’re alive, and that’s all that matters.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “Not for that!” Brie looked at him through pink eyes. “I ruined everything.”

  Francis frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  “That m-morning I c-came into your r-room.”

  The lines on Francis’s forehead hardened. “This isn’t the time,” he said. “It’s water under the bridge anyway, okay? So don’t—”