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

by Nicholas J. Ambrose

  How is this worse than getting shot?!

  She shut the thought down. All that mattered now was running; keeping her feet pumping; not tripping—

  As if summoned by the thought, her feet went out from under her.

  The world spun—

  Then she saw, behind, that ferociously following transformation: a metal oesophagus, closing, ripping the walkway apart—

  Hands were on her; pulling her up. Whether it was Natasha or Mikhail, she couldn’t be sure.

  She didn’t have time to figure it out either, before she was running again.

  Two seconds later, the place she’d been was consumed by pipe and steel and flashing orange light.

  2

  The kraken was a pitching, yawing mess. Francis gripped desperately, braced in the doorway, while Brie frantically tried to hold herself in place, alternately fighting for control of any system she could reclaim as well as screaming to Ruby.

  If there’s a Ruby left to scream to.

  The lights died again. Brie shouted some expletive as the kraken bucked, then hammered at keys. They kicked back into life, as well as a trio of screens, menus scrolling wildly of their own accord.

  Francis’s communicator clicked. He pressed it to his ear without bothering to check where the call came from.

  “What’s happening?” It was Trove. “This place is rumbling like it’s going to fall apart!”

  “It’s trying to reconfigure itself!” Francis shouted.

  “I repaired something wrong!” Brie cried. “It reclaimed control!”

  “We need to get out of here,” said a voice in the background over the link.

  “Where’s Miss Celeste?” Trove asked. “They’re not back here. We can’t—”

  The end of his sentence was lost as the kraken screamed its garbled, digital roar. Francis slammed headfirst into the wall. Hot pain exploded. His head rebounded, spurting claret.

  My nose, he thought dimly. My fucking nose—broken—

  “I don’t know where she is!” That was Brie. She was crying. “The system locked me out; I can’t triangulate her location!”

  “Just stay there!” Francis cried to Trove. “Just wait! Please, just—”

  The kraken let loose another scree. The lights switched off. Francis crashed backward, hit his head—and blacked out.

  3

  Through orange light, then blue, they ran.

  Ruby’s feet screamed. But she couldn’t stop. To do that, even for a second, would mean sure death.

  Brie was shouting. Something. Ruby didn’t know what. Could no longer hear. Maybe it wasn’t even to them. If the kraken had locked her out, she probably had her own battle.

  Francis, she thought. Is he …

  The corridor opened.

  “The Harbinger!” Natasha cried. “Quick!”

  Already the walls were shifting, metal unfolding, pipes moving, rapid pulses of light going in every direction. As Ruby corkscrewed a bend, she saw the corridor they’d just come down vanish, and their walkway begin to come apart.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck—”

  “Be ready to move!” Natasha screamed into her communicator.

  Another turn; racing upward now.

  Ruby’s foot slipped as the metal she’d just been standing on fell away. She cried out, and leapt forward with renewed speed.

  The walls shook, pressing inward. Pistons roared. Overhead, a circle of quivering sky. Would that be swallowed too?

  Would this place become their tomb?

  Onto the landing pad. A rope ladder hung over the Harbinger’s side.

  “Why couldn’t these fucking things be built with side doors?” Ruby gasped.

  She hit the ladder first, but stood aside and waved Natasha up. The nav leader went, Mikhail hurrying up after her at Ruby’s insistence.

  The walkway had all but disintegrated. Beneath, the landing pad rumbled—and, from the edge, began to split apart, each chunk folding toward the metalwork below.

  Ruby leapt onto the ladder and hoisted herself up.

  “Go, go, go!” Natasha shouted from above. “Now!”

  The Harbinger began to rise.

  We’re not going to make it, Ruby thought. She peered up, behind Mikhail. The shaft was closing. We’re going to die here.

  Natasha was over the rail, then Mikhail. They pulled Ruby up and over.

  They sprinted into the ship, to the control room.

  “Full thrust!” Natasha cried. “Lift us out!”

  Cameras showed the quaking shaft. It shrunk like an iris.

  “One hundred metres to exit,” Amelie called.

  Ripples of metal outpaced the Harbinger, racing to the cocoon’s exterior.

  “Can’t this thing go any faster?” Ruby breathed.

  “We’ve put every bit of power we can into the lift! There’s nothing else to give!”

  “Fifty metres to exit!”

  The ship shuddered as metal nudged it from behind, pressing—

  “Twenty-five metres!”

  This is it—

  “Ten metres!”

  Blue, tauntingly close—

  Metal screamed as the walls pressed in—

  We’re going to die—

  Up the ship lurched, carried by sheer momentum—

  “Five metres!”

  The ship shook.

  Alarms wailed—

  And then it burst skyward with a judder, exploding out into sunlight.

  “YES!”

  The crew cheered.

  Ruby felt her chest unclench. Wiping sweat from her forehead, she relaxed. A stupid grin of relief lifted her face.

  “Thank—fucking—goodness,” she breathed. She bent over, clutching her side, finally able to focus on her white hot stitch. Panting hard, but elated, she closed her eyes, pushing down the tears that threatened to erupt. “Thank goodness,” she whispered.

  4

  Hands were on his forehead; neck; face. A groan bubbled up from his stomach. Then the world returned, churning dizzyingly.

  “Francis!” Brie cried. She was crouched over him, gripping tight. Red streaked her face. “I thought—thought—”

  Francis coughed. Blood sprayed.

  “Is she—are they—”

  Brie looked to the screen. She’d wrestled one camera feed back from the kraken. The great opening in the top of the cocoon was shifting. But the petals weren’t moving inward; they were flattening, lowering to the metal behemoth’s surface. A surface which shuddered and roiled beneath the rapidly dissipating cloud cover.

  “What’s happening?” Francis asked. He staggered to his feet. Brie helped him up, limping on her sprain.

  “It’s transforming.”

  “Did they get out? Are they clear?”

  Brie didn’t answer. Francis shot her a scared look, then stared at the lone screen Brie had recaptured.

  Seconds passed. The metal cocoon started to ripple, at first in small waves, then larger and larger vibrations. Metal unfurled in segments, revealing glinting pipework and vibrant, dancing lights.

  Come on, he thought desperately. Come on, you must—

  And then, in a violent ejaculation, the Harbinger burst skyward.

  “Yes!” Brie cried.

  But Francis couldn’t bring himself to share in her elation. Because something was happening to the cocoon—something terrifying.

  “They’re not out yet,” he said.

  “But they’re—”

  With one great shudder, the cocoon’s surface shed. The last remnants of surrounding cloud were blasted off. Light glowed … and then the metal reformed, spinning itself into towering spires, erupting up like chrome mountains.

  5

  “Miss Celeste!”

  Elation burst. On screen, the cocoon. Its surface had split apart, gusting plumes of synthetic cloud away—and now it reformed into great points, lifting heavenward all over its mottled carapace.

  “Evasive manoeuvres, now!” Ruby said.

  The Harb
inger jerked as Amelie, Sia, Wren and Natasha all fought to navigate.

  A gargantuan spike pierced the space where the Harbinger had just been. Ruby gasped.

  “They’re too fast!” Natasha cried.

  Cameras cycled. In every tumbling direction, the same: a forest of spires, outpacing the ship in their furious flight.

  Tethers sprung. Ruby shouted; Natasha and her technicians were already pushing the Harbinger into a defensive spin; and then—

  The Harbinger lurched as it was ensnared. It pushed, the web of tethers stretching—

  And then the ship’s momentum ran out.

  “It has us!” Amelie shouted. “It’s drawing us back in!”

  “Fire all cannons!” Ruby yelled to Stefan. “Mark!”

  Thunder rumbled. Cannons unloaded, payloads streaking away, crashing into steel.

  “Our weapons did nothing,” Amelie gasped.

  “Mark!”

  Thunder—

  “Mark!”

  Another rumble—

  “Miss Celeste—”

  “Mark!”

  Roaring; streaking; impact—

  “It’s not doing anything!”

  Ruby’s heart thrummed. She stared at the Harbinger’s camera feeds. Every impact spot; nothing. Not a speck to indicate she’d unloaded into them.

  And still those tethers pulled, dragging them down with every passing second.

  “What do we do?”

  “Our weapons didn’t work! We’re done for!”

  “There must be something! Miss Celeste—”

  “I need to think!” she shouted. “Just—just hold on!”

  “Miss Celeste—”

  “I need to think!”

  But as her mind fought, desperate, all she saw was the approaching surface of this frightful, nightmarish machine they’d just escaped—and were being returned to once more.

  6

  Francis watched in horror as the cocoon’s surface contorted.

  “What the hell is it doing?”

  Brie hobbled back into her seat. She fought with code, frown lines deepening on her forehead.

  “Brie?”

  “I don’t know!” she said. “It’s—this isn’t the kraken’s doing!”

  “I thought you said that thing had no localised programming.”

  “I said most of it was handled by the kraken, not that it had none!”

  Francis watched the camera feed. The Harbinger was still lifting away—but around it, screeching upward, came those great metal mountains, tearing through the narrowing space between cocoon and ship.

  The Harbinger dodged.

  Francis’s chest constricted. The ship had narrowly avoided being pierced by one of those towering mountains.

  “Is there anything you can do?” he asked Brie.

  “I’ve barely got control of this thing as it is!”

  “Is that a yes or a no?”

  “It’s an ‘I’m-trying!’” Brie shouted.

  Tethers sprung around the Harbinger.

  “No!”

  The ship pushed upward on the last of its speed.

  Break through! Francis thought desperately. Come on!

  It slowed—

  And then it was being dragged down.

  “It has them!”

  “It must be a defensive procedure!” Brie said. “For if the kraken fails!”

  “I don’t care what it is; can you switch it off or not?”

  “I don’t know!”

  “Then guess!”

  “Guess?” Brie turned her terrified face back to him. “Guess?!”

  “Yes!”

  “Fine! No, Francis, I don’t think I can do anything! I’ve barely got control of local systems; getting anything external, and in a short time, is going to be next to impossible!”

  “We have to do something!”

  Underfoot, the kraken jerked again. It let out another piercing digital scream, and Brie hammered at the console to exert control once more. “If you have any ideas, I’m all ears!”

  Francis’s mind raced. On screen, taut tethers pulled the Harbinger ever closer to the monstrous machinery bent on their destruction.

  “Can you get us close to the ship?” he asked.

  “What?”

  “The kraken—have you got enough control to bring us close enough to the Harbinger to establish a radio link?”

  “I—yes, I should have.”

  Another judder ran through the kraken. Whatever systems had mobilised in the cocoon, they seemed to be calling the kraken with renewed focus, bidding it to join in the reclamation of the Harbinger. Francis braced until Brie brought it back under control.

  “And can you give this thing a command to follow after we’re gone?”

  Brie turned. Her eyes were wide. “Gone? Francis, what—”

  “Can you or not?” he pressed.

  “If I can get it under control for long enough to execute, then yes. Francis, what are you—”

  “Bring us in close. Now! There’s no time to delay!”

  She cast him a frightened look, but turned back to the workstation and started her furious input of commands.

  The kraken began to move.

  7

  Ruby’s communicator crackled. Part of her thought to ignore it—but then a voice emitted from the other side, from the link that had been open, if inert, for the past hour.

  “Miss Celeste!”

  Ruby scrabbled, lifting the communicator to her ear. “Brie!”

  “Miss Celeste, I have Francis—he wants—”

  “Ruby,” he called over her. “We’re coming in!”

  Sure enough, the kraken approached on the Harbinger’s displays. Its tentacles snapped back and forth.

  “Is that thing safe?” Ruby asked.

  “Enough for what we need to do.”

  “What? What are—”

  “No time! Just—put all your thrust into getting clear. Can you do that?”

  Ruby looked back at Natasha and the technicians’ bated faces. They nodded. “Yes!”

  “Good. You—you may need to brace yourself. I can’t promise anything, but if this works …”

  “If what works?”

  “We’re getting you out of there. Now hold tight! We’ve only got one shot at this.”

  “Francis?” Ruby’s face turned ashen. “Francis!”

  But the connection had been cut. He was gone.

  “What’s he going to do?” Natasha asked.

  “I—I don’t know,” said Ruby. “I just hope …”

  She couldn’t finish the thought aloud, but her fear rung like a knell in her head.

  Please. Don’t let them sacrifice themselves. Please, Francis, anything but that.

  8

  “Francis, what—”

  “I need you to give this thing one instruction,” he cut across. It was imperative she listen now, and he gripped Brie’s shoulders tight, looking her square in her pale and petrified face. “I need you to crash it into the cocoon, cutting through the tethers holding the ship on the way down.”

  “I—I don’t know—”

  “You can do this!” His voice was tight, urgent. “You can.”

  “I—but—how will we—”

  “Same way we got in,” Francis said grimly. “We jump.”

  Brie’s mouth worked. She swallowed hard. “Isn’t there another—”

  “We’re running out of time!” The Harbinger’s distance from the cocoon had been halved already. “We need to do this now, right now, or they’re all dead!”

  She shook, but Brie steeled herself with a curt nod. Hands aquiver, she typed, inputting the last commands she would give this thing—the last commands she might ever give.

  Francis blotted out the thought. He couldn’t think of that. This had to work.

  The kraken lurched. Francis stumbled and hit the floor. The lights flickered, then came back to life.

  On screen, the Harbinger receded.

  “What are you
doing?” he gasped.

  “Getting a run-up.”

  The kraken climbed jerkily, fighting every metre. But Brie fought back with twice the fury, lifting them up, up, until—

  “We’ve got a half-mile of clearance,” Brie said. “Will that be enough?”

  “It’ll have to be,” Francis said. “We have to go now.”

  She nodded. “I can give it twenty seconds.”

  “Okay. Get it typed, but don’t input the command yet.” Francis crossed to her chair. “We’d better make the most efficient use of our time.”

  Her fingers worked. “It’s in.”

  “Okay. Get up and out. Come on, lean on me.”

  She rose, pressing her weight into Francis.

  Her sprained ankle could make or break them.

  Francis tried not to think of that.

  “Are you ready?”

  Brie nodded. Tears had cut tracks across her face, but for now her eyes were dry. “I’m scared,” she said.

  “I’m scared too. But we can do this. Okay?”

  She nodded again. Her hand hovered over the kraken’s console. “Now?”

  “Now.”

  She hesitated a fraction of a second—

  Then slammed her finger down.

  “Let’s go!”

  They hurried as fast as they could through the doorway and back down the spiralling corridor.

  Twenty seconds counted in Francis’s head.

  The floor wobbled.

  The kraken screamed.

  “It’s fighting!” Brie cried.

  “Just move!”

  They hit a corner and slammed into the wall. Francis grunted. Pain roared through his body, not remotely dulled by the adrenaline pumped through his veins.

  “Francis!”

  “Move!”

  With four seconds left on Francis’s mental clock, the kraken surged down.

  Brie gasped. “It’s too soon!”

  “Just move, damn it!”

  They ran.

  The kraken shook.

  Brie slammed her foot down hard, gasped. Francis dragged her forward. Around a bend—

  And there, the opening.

  “Come on!” he shouted.

  The wind blustered in a deafening whistle, turning the space into a vacuum. Francis fought to breathe.

  They staggered to the edge. Brie’s arm pistoned out to grab the side of the hole; reflected, Francis did the same.