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

by Nicholas J. Ambrose

  “I didn’t break your lock!” Brie cried. “It was … it was Reuben.”

  Ice swallowed Francis’s chest. “What?”

  “He … I told him I l-liked you, and he said you’d like it if I … He was only j-joking, and I b-b-believed him, and I ruined everything!” Brie’s last words were ruined by sobs, and she clutched her face in tiny hands.

  “Reuben? Reuben Evans? He broke my lock?”

  “He was only joking. He’s always joking. But I—I liked you, and I thought—I’ve never h-had a b-boyfriend before, and I didn’t want to do it, but I’m s-so stupid. So I s-said I would, and then—and then—I’m so sorry,” Brie blubbed. “I’m so stupid.”

  Reuben. Now it all made sense; his unwillingness to fix the lock. His singular focus on the event. And then, this past week. He’d been skirting Francis. Had he wanted to come clean? Francis had shirked him—and now he and Brie found themselves in the interior of a colossal robotic behemoth as it pounded after the Harbinger.

  God fucking damn it. Reuben was lucky the communicators were out of range, or Francis would teach him a whole new set of expletives.

  “It’s okay,” he said, holding Brie’s shoulder. He pulled her into an awkward hug. Wet streaked the side of his face. Small hands gripped his shoulders close. Her breath was ragged in his ear. “Look, it’s … it’s fine. It’s all straightened out.”

  “I’m sorry,” she sobbed.

  “It’s fine.” Francis held her at arm’s length and looked into her face. “Anyway, it’s not important at the moment. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but right now we’re stuck inside a massive robot squid. A squid that’s currently—” He jerked sideways as the kraken bucked. From somewhere it let out that garbled digital roar again. Righting himself, and Brie, he finished, “—that’s currently trying to destroy all of our friends.”

  Brie wiped tears from her face with the back of her hand. She looked up and down the corridor. There wasn’t far to see: it turned at both ends, following the curvature of the beast’s great head. “Maybe there’s a way we can stop it. Like a control panel or something.”

  “Can you get up?”

  “I think so.”

  Brie’s hands in Francis’s, he helped her to her feet. She moaned as she put pressure on her left ankle, and lifted it.

  “Is it—”

  “Sprained,” she said. “I think.” Gently, she lowered it again, but gasped as it touched the floor. “I can’t walk on it.”

  “That’s okay. I’ve got you.”

  “Where do we go?”

  Francis looked around. Left: corridor. Right: corridor. Behind: a gaping hole leading to certain death.

  He pointed right. “This way.”

  The corridor sloped up in a wide spiral. The kraken kept twisting underfoot, and Francis braced against the wall. At one point he thought he might lose Brie under a particularly violent spasm, but he caught her before she fell. The same moment, his communicator gave a solitary crackle. Francis shouted into it fruitlessly.

  The corridor levelled and terminated. A doorway was carved at the very end, leading into the centre of the kraken’s head. And inside—

  “Holy fuck,” Brie marvelled. She slapped a hand to her mouth. “Sorry.”

  The room they found was circular, lined with a curving control panel topped by viewscreens. There was a single unmanned chair positioned at the workstation.

  “This thing is a mess,” Brie said.

  It was. The screens were garbled. Some of them showed what Francis assumed were camera feeds, but only small portions worked: the rest of the display was marred by static, strings of numbers and error code.

  “That lightning strike sure did a number on this thing,” Francis mused.

  “Help me into the chair,” Brie said, pointing.

  “What?”

  “I’m a programmer. I can hack it; make it stop.”

  Francis’s eyebrows rose. “Really?”

  “What do you think I do on the Harbinger? I’m the night-time programming whizz. Come on, help me over.”

  Francis obeyed, hobbling to the seat with Brie. He lowered her carefully; easy enough, given her weight. The moment she was down she set to work at the controls.

  “Do you know how—” Francis started.

  “It’s different to the ship. But the operating system might be similar. I just need to figure out … Aha!”

  The most functional display began to cycle through menus. Brie’s fingers flew. Less than a minute later, the menus vanished and were replaced with bare code.

  “Holy shit,” Francis said. “You’re good at that.”

  “I’ve been programming since I was five. I trained for four years before joining Miss Celeste’s crew.” Self-consciously, Brie added, “It’s why I’ve never had a boyfriend.”

  Francis stared. Brie rewrote code at a frantic pace, yet it looked so fluid and natural and unhurried as he watched.

  “What are you doing now?”

  “This thing’s systems are corrupted. I’m trying to get a couple more screens functioning so I can see what I’m doing. Then I’ll figure out how to stop it.”

  One screen ticked back into life a few seconds later. Thirty seconds passed, and then the one beside that shed its covering of static too.

  “Done.”

  Francis whistled. “Wow.”

  Brie stopped. “Hm.”

  “What?”

  Her mouth twisted in a frown. Too distracted to swipe it away, blonde hair hung over her shoulder.

  “This here,” she said, pointing at a screen. Above her finger was the word CONFIGURATIONS. “The programming here is anchored to something not locally contained.” She bit her lip, then looked backward to Francis. “Do you think it’s that thing inside the cloud?”

  Before Francis could answer, the kraken lurched. A resounding shudder shook the beast, and again Francis heard his communicator crackle before falling silent.

  “Worry about that later,” he said. “Can you stop this thing?”

  “I should be able to. Um.” Again, Brie’s fingers started to fly. “Hold on.”

  The kraken juddered again, and Francis staggered into the frame of the open entryway. Lucky Brie was confined to her seat, or that sprained ankle of hers wouldn’t be enjoying itself right now.

  “I think I’ve found it! But I’m not—too much of its code is garbled. If I’m wrong, I don’t know what’ll—”

  “Just do it.”

  “But—”

  Francis’s communicator clicked to life again, and a snippet of Ruby’s voice came through, incomprehensible—then the kraken swung, roaring, and a thunderous noise rocked its body.

  “Now!” Francis shouted.

  “If I’m wrong—”

  “If you don’t they might die, so God damn it, Brie, do it now!”

  Terror-stricken, watery blue eyes stared at him—

  And then Brie hammered in her command, inputting her desperate plea to the kraken’s working subsystems.

  2

  Francis staggered forward, slammed the console. But it wasn’t under the kraken’s violent pursuit of the Harbinger: it was its sudden loss of momentum. His hands yelled as they hit metal, and his face yelled a second later. Stars exploded across his vision.

  “Francis!”

  A crimson streak poured from his nose. Brie hadn’t fared much better. A red welt darkened her forehead, and her lip was split. Despite her injuries, she fought to climb to her feet.

  “I’m okay,” Francis said, waving her off. “Sit down. You’re hurt.”

  “I—”

  “I’m fine. Maybe next time ratchet it down first instead of just stopping outright, but …” He wiped the blood from under his nose, giving the red smear a dark look. “You did it. Well done.”

  “I—yeah.” Brie nodded quickly. “I did.”

  “You saved them.”

  “I—yeah.” Pink rose to Brie’s cheeks. She pulled an unsure smile, which became a grimac
e. Tentative fingers pressed her split lip.

  “Now we just have to wait for them to save us,” Francis said. He lowered himself to the floor. The flow of blood from his nose had already replenished the stream he’d wiped away, and he caught it with his sleeve. “You said something about the thing in the cloud?”

  “Yeah,” Brie said. “Some of this thing’s code instructs external systems. But I can’t access them just yet …”

  “Can you get in?”

  “I can try.”

  Francis nodded. “You can do it.”

  “I guess.” Brie touched her lip again, and wiped blood onto her trouser leg without giving it a look. She ran a hand through her hair, pouting. “This thing is ruined. I’m just running repairs; I haven’t even needed to hack it. It’s just doing what I tell it to.”

  “Well, so long as it keeps doing that, we’re set.”

  “Mm.” Then, a moment later: “Ah. Okay.”

  Francis stood and took position behind Brie. CONFIGURATIONS now topped her display, and beneath that was a bolded subheading reading Presets, followed by a number of options: Woodland; Rainforest; Marshland; Tundra; Desert. Beside each spun a transforming graphic rendered in a pale blue wireframe. As Brie moved through the presets, it changed, contorting into each of the options it represented: first a mass of islands topped with groves; then a towering rainforest; then a swampy, brackish wasteland.

  Francis’s eyes widened. “That thing in the cloud—it’s … it transforms?”

  Brie nodded without looking at him. “It becomes whatever the kraken’s systems decide it needs to be.”

  “So the Exceptional Luck …”

  Francis’s communicator crackled.

  Ruby’s weak voice filled the room. “Francis? Are you okay?”

  “Yeah! Yeah, we’re okay!”

  “The kraken stopped! Another error?”

  “No; we found a control room. Brie—she’s got control of this thing. She stopped it.”

  “Brie?”

  “I’m here,” she called. Her voice quavered. “I—I did it. I stopped it.”

  “Are you both alone?” Ruby asked.

  “It’s unmanned,” Francis answered. “Everything in here is automated.”

  “This thing is weird,” Brie said. “There—Miss Celeste, there are anchors in the code that call to non-local entities.”

  “Oh?”

  “It gives instructions to whatever’s in the cloud.” She gave Francis a nervous look as if for support. He nodded. “Miss Celeste, I found an option for preset configurations. That thing in the cloud—it can reconstruct itself into different topographies.”

  “Go on …”

  “One of those is a rainforest. Like the rainforest the Exceptional Luck crashed in.”

  3

  Ruby thought quickly. Around her, the control room was silent and watchful.

  She strode to Amelie’s console. “Bring up the radar data we pulled.”

  It came on-screen.

  The construct in the cloud was huge. Half the size of New Harlem, easy. Thick spires reached upward across its length.

  “Does anything in that thing’s code refer to weather generators?” Ruby asked.

  Brie said, “Bear with me.”

  Half a minute later she was back: “Yes! There are turrets, remotely controlled.”

  “Can you turn them off?”

  “I think so. Should I?”

  “Please.”

  “Done.”

  Ruby laid a finger on Amelie’s screen, over the angular arrangement of petal-like protrusions. “Brie, our radar shows something in the centre, at the top.”

  “I think it might be an opening. Let me see if I can just …”

  Trove stepped forward. “Are we going in?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Miss Celeste—” Natasha started.

  “I’ve been wrong once today, and I will give you that,” Ruby said. “But Miss Channing has control.” Ignoring Natasha’s dirty look, she said, “Somewhere in there has to be the Exceptional Luck, and its store of gemstones. If we have to go in to find them, we will. This will not be a wasted trip.”

  “I’ve got it,” Brie said. “It’s definitely an opening to—this thing calls it a cocoon.”

  “Okay. Bust it open.” Turning back to Natasha’s dark expression, Ruby instructed, “Bring the Harbinger close. We’re going in.”

  4

  Under the view of the Harbinger’s cameras, the great construct slowly uncloaked. It was a hulking, brutish silver thing, gleaming in the sunlight.

  Dead centre, lifting slowly, were the angular petals comprising its entrance. They jutted skyward, terminating in sharp points deep within the structure like inverted teeth. Great rods gripped them in place, and pistons now stretched and extended, drawing the maw open.

  In the background drifted the kraken. Brie had brought it closer to the Harbinger and the cocoon so as to remain in communicator range. How long that would last when the Harbinger went inside, no one could be sure; as yet Brie hadn’t repaired enough of the kraken’s systems to access detailed schematics on the structure’s interior. It might be a long way down.

  Natasha approached from behind, standing at Ruby’s elbow.

  “Yes, Miss Brady?”

  “What if it has defensive measures? It could be occupied, or have weapon systems.”

  “That’s very true. Fortunately we have weapons of our own.”

  “Hm.”

  “I’ll await Brie’s word before we go in. She should have it cracked soon.” When Natasha didn’t say anything, Ruby gave her a sidelong glance. Lower, she muttered, “You’re jumpy. Don’t you trust me?”

  “Of course I do. But you also almost got me killed a couple of months ago, lest you forget.”

  Ruby lifted an eyebrow. Touché.

  Brie’s voice returned. “I’ve cracked a little further through. There are automated defenses, but I’ve shut them down.”

  “Excellent. Thank you, Miss Channing.”

  “There’s a shaft you’ll descend, three hundred metres or so; at the bottom is a landing pad, and routes running further into the structure.”

  “Where do they go?”

  “I’m not sure. But I’m working on it.”

  “Okay. Keep me posted.”

  “Will do.” Brie paused a second, and Ruby heard the sound of keystrokes. “I don’t think we’ll be able to communicate when you’re inside.”

  Damn it. She’d thought as much, but to hear it first-hand was troubling. Brie might be their only source of instruction; without her, there was no telling what they were walking into.

  “Maybe I can …” Brie trailed off.

  “What?”

  “I could broadcast through the kraken. There are speakers throughout the cocoon; I could link my communicator up and talk to you. You wouldn’t be able to talk back—at least, I don’t think so … But you could hear me. I could point you where to go. Or warn you of anything that might happen.”

  “Right. But nothing will happen, will it? You’ve got its defensive procedures switched off, haven’t you?”

  “Yeah. You should be okay. Just … just don’t hold me to it.”

  Ruby nodded. On screen, the access shaft was almost entirely revealed. With its weather generators turned off, greater and greater portions of the massive construct were becoming visible, too.

  The petals stilled with a great, low clunking sound.

  “It’s open,” Brie said.

  Ruby’s heart thrummed. “Okay then. Let’s do this.”

  5

  Francis sat against the kraken’s console. He watched as Brie engulfed herself in the kraken’s systems. When something was repaired and granted her access to new information, she gave a low, “Yes,” and radioed Ruby to pass it on.

  Francis was amazed. For so long Brie had seemed like nothing more than a nervous schoolgirl. And yet, here, surrounded by what she knew best, she was something else. The kraken, and indeed
the construct it hailed from, were putty in her hands.

  Most impressive of all was the way she spoke. Francis couldn’t help but listen in awe as she relayed information to the Harbinger, her voice fluid and natural. This was a Brie unlike any he’d ever known.

  One of the kraken’s cameras was now working. A screen had been devoted to it. It watched the Harbinger positioning over the enormous hole Brie had opened in the construct’s top.

  “Will they be okay?” Francis asked.

  “I think so.” After a moment’s pause, Brie added, “I hope so.”

  Francis nodded. He’d have to pray Brie was right. Thus far she’d known what she was doing; probably her doubt was ingrained rather than logical. Francis hoped that was the case.

  Ruby’s voice came. “Okay. We’re going in now.”

  “Aye, Miss Celeste,” said Brie. “Stay safe.”

  “Ditto. I’ll remain in contact as long as possible.”

  “Okay. In a few minutes I should have control of the construct’s internal communication networks. And … hm.”

  “Yes?”

  “Just … an idea. I’ll let you know.”

  “Okay. Right. Well. See you both soon.”

  Francis watched, a low feeling in his stomach, as the Harbinger began its descent. Lower and lower—then it was past the petals and out of sight.

  6

  Down the shaft the Harbinger went. Ruby watched the control centre’s main display, alight with camera feeds, with a mixture of tension and excitement. Her eyes scoured hungrily.

  The shaft was long, cylindrical, a quilt of metal sheets. Deep blue veins of light pulsed in every direction, its glow throbbing in a slow strobe from below. Pipes crisscrossed, following a five- or ten-metre straight along the shaft’s length, before forking back into the labyrinth of internal systems from which they’d come.

  “Twenty-five metres to landing pad,” Amelie announced.

  The ship slowed. The last distance was counted down in two-metre intervals, then one-, then half-metres—

  And then the Harbinger was down.

  A vast rounded room spread out, roof curving up like a bulb of garlic. Like the shaft, blue light pulsed across the walls, which weren’t really walls at all but more overlaid sheets of steel, pipes, blocky machines half the Harbinger’s size—