Arkship Vengeance (The Arkship Saga Book 2)

by Niel Bushnell

  They had lost.

  Wynn had lost.

  Slowly, he walked towards the com panel, preparing his response. He took a breath and pressed the button. ‘Fenrir . . . this is Prince Halstead on the arkship Vengeance . . .’ His throat closed with emotion as he tried to form the words. ‘We . . . I . . . I surren–’

  A huge vibration shook the flight deck.

  Stunned, Wynn looked out of the windows and saw one of the arkships erupt in a blaze of light. Behind it, he saw something else, an approaching silhouette that took his breath away.

  A new voice broke over the com channel. ‘. . . is the Lord Chamberlain Cam Tanis of the Ark Royal Caerleon, we stand ready to assist you.’

  THE WAVE

  Orcades Draig glanced up, startled out of his thoughts. He was thinking of his mother when the windows in front of him lit up with the glare of an explosion.

  ‘New contact,’ a voice shouted. ‘An arkship on attack run . . . it’s the Caerleon.’

  The explosion grew, spawning a line of more eruptions, all painfully bright, their colors distinct and vivid. Orcades stared into them, not quite certain what he was looking at.

  ‘The Gargan is taking heavy damage.’

  ‘Deploy the Ormr to assist,’ Valine cried from somewhere behind him.

  ‘Ormr moving to attack position.’

  ‘The Vengeance?’

  ‘Engines are dead.’

  Orcades wiped his eyes. There was his mother, standing by the windows, studying the battle. Hesitantly, he walked towards her.

  ‘You have lost, child,’ she said in a quiet voice, her attention fixed on the burning arkship.

  ‘Lost? The Vengeance is in ruins. We will board her and plant our flag there. This . . .’ Orcades gestured to the attacking Caerleon, ‘this is just a distraction.’

  ‘A very good distraction.’

  He stared into his mother’s face, trying to comprehend her meaning. ‘The battle is won,’ he insisted. ‘The Vengeance cannot escape. Her engines are virtually destroyed.’

  Sinnsro Draig smiled knowingly. ‘Are they? All of them?’

  All of them . . .

  A rush of clarity overwhelmed him, and Orcades whipped round to find Valine. ‘Their drive, their Cube drive.’

  Commodore Valine stared at him.

  ‘They are going to use it!’

  Valine hesitated, then checked the holograph: a space was forming in front of the Vengeance.

  Wide eyed, she shouted, ‘Order the Ormr to pull back! Close that gap before they–’

  There was a rush of light that consumed the flight deck of the Fenrir, then the arkship began to list.

  ‘Cubewave!’ someone shouted. ‘Brace for impa–’

  Orcades felt himself pushed into the wall as the deck jolted. He gripped the edge of a console as the entire arkship shuddered. The violent shaking increased, then ebbed away, leaving a chorus of alarms and flashing lights in its wake.

  As the officers rushed about him, Orcades walked towards the windows. Outside was a maelstrom of debris. The Ormr was barely recognizable, having taken the brunt of the wave. Its engine section was compressed and broken, forming a constellation of twisting parts that spun in orbit around the arkship.

  One by one, the other arkships reported in. Most had sustained some damage from the cubewave, and the Gargan had been caught unprepared by the Caerleon’s attack. Repairs would take some time.

  He glanced back to where the arkship Vengeance had been just a few moments ago. Now, the brown gasses of the Fields of Venus swirled to fill the void, dancing into sinuous lines of color.

  ‘The Vengeance is gone,’ Valine reported.

  ‘The Caerleon?’ Orcades asked.

  ‘Our arkships are focusing their firepower on it now.’

  Orcades Draig nodded, saying nothing, watching the kinetic noise of gas and rock and broken arkship, letting his mind drift with them.

  COMPRESSION

  ‘Do we have a course set?’ Bara shouted?

  ‘Cube transit in five . . .’ The voice was coming from the flight deck.

  ‘Sol! We need an exit vector setting, otherwise . . .’

  ‘Four . . . three . . .’

  About her, she saw the shocked expressions of the other engineers, huddled together in the safety of the engine deck control room. There was no time to seek shelter. All they could do was monitor the systems that were still working, and try to keep the Cube drive online.

  ‘Wynn, we could end up anywhere!’

  ‘Two . . . one!’

  The central core of the Cube drive, surged with energy, then Bara felt the sickening sensation of being in two places at once.

  ‘Cubewave!’ an engineer shouted.

  On her console, she saw the walls of the engine deck rupture and blow outwards, throwing off pieces into space. The control room’s protective shielding had already fallen into place, sealing them from the engine deck, and Bara hoped it would be enough to protect them. She glanced at the doors that led to the rest of the ship and, for an instant, she thought about running, escaping from this madness. But there was no time. The wave hit, twisting the shielding as if it was made of paper, but the seal did not break.

  There was a surge of acceleration, and everyone was pushed towards the battered shield wall. Desks and equipment fell with them, crushing Bara under their increased weight. The pull of gravity grew stronger as the Cube drive reached its peak flow, and the pressure on her body became unbearable.

  Bara pushed against it, holding it off just enough so that she could breathe. She tried to pull herself free, she had to get to the console to monitor the space-time bubble, but nothing moved. She was trapped.

  The arkship was entering the main phase of transit, where the stresses on the hull would increase. If she didn’t get out soon and control the bubble the entire arkship might be torn apart. She screamed, desperate to escape, but the pressure just became stronger. It was no use, she wasn’t strong enough. No human was.

  A mechanical arm appeared close to her head, and the desk that was holding her down was lifted into the air. Gofal’s face peered down at her, his blue glowing eyes blinking.

  ‘You are required,’ he said, helping her up.

  Holding his arm, Bara dragged herself to the console, trying to focus on the blurred text. She found the Lorentzian manifold stack, and managed to stabilize the drive. Immediately, the pressure eased, and the clutter fell from the wall to the floor.

  As she checked the systems, Gofal helped the other engineers free. Eventually, he joined her at the console.

  ‘I was on my way to see you when the drive engaged,’ he explained.

  Bara smiled, touching his arm, then turned her attention back to the console: something was wrong.

  ‘There’s no exit vector,’ she said. ‘We’re flying blind.’

  ‘That is not wise,’ Gofal noted.

  ‘It’s suicidal!’

  ‘Well, not suicidal. Dangerous, yes, but not suicidal.’

  Bara shook her head. ‘There’s nothing I can do. Once the drive shuts down we’ll re-enter normal space-time . . .’

  ‘Yes,’ Gofal replied, nodding. ‘I see your problem. Without an exit vector we could smash into anything.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  Bara stared at the screens, trying to think of something that might help.

  ‘You know, most of space is quite empty. We might get lucky.’ Gofal said.

  Bara scowled at him. ‘You’re not helping.’

  ‘Sorry.’ He stepped back, letting Bara work. ‘Do you suppose they know this on the flight deck?’

  ‘Yes, I think they know,’ Bara said angrily. She jabbed the com system. ‘Flight deck, this is the engine deck.’

  ‘Bara, are you okay down there?’ It was Wynn’s voice.

  ‘No, none of us are okay! You used the Cube drive without an exit vector. You know what might happen. What the hell were you thinking?’

  ‘I know. We had no choice. Wait
. . .’

  There was low rumble under Bara’s feet.

  ‘Tachyon surge!’ Wynn shouted over the com. ‘The bubble is unstable! The Cube drive’s not responding. We’re accelerating too quickly. We can’t shut it down from here.’

  RENDEZVOUS

  Derward Tarkkail turned the Lupaus into the cubewave, bracing himself as the little ship was thrown about by the fluctuating waves of distortion. He wrestled with the control yoke, forcing the ship to keep its nose pointed away from the center of the disturbance. As the vibrations decreased he took a moment to stare in awe at the empty space where the Vengeance had just been. Wynn was a fool to try to use the Cube drive when the ship was stationary, it could never hope to outrun the distortion wave caused by the drive. Judging by the state of the nearby Draig arkships, the Vengeance would be badly damaged, possibly even destroyed in their escape.

  ‘Damned idiot,’ Derward cursed under his breath, imagining the fate of the Vengeance. His thoughts turned to Reader Mallory, and his fear became anger. He should not have left her there, in harm’s way. But it was too late now. He forced himself to focus, he had a mission to carry out.

  He checked the ship’s systems and turned the Lupaus towards the arkship Fenrir. Above him he saw the Ark Royal Caerleon, its weapons still pounding into the stunned Draig arkships.

  Derward turned his attention to the Fenrir, growing larger in front of him. About him were the returning squadrons of damaged Draig fighters, navigating their way through the debris of battle. He cruised with them, switching his forged transponder signal on. As far as the Draig docking controllers was concerned, he was the Far Horizon, a merchant vessel that was, until recently, docked on the Fenrir. As long as no one checked the Fenrir’s internal system too closely, Derward should be able to dock and go about his business as a registered trader. Even the House of Draig relied on commerce.

  Derward switched on the com channel, listening to the chatter of confusion as the drifting arkships spoke to each other, focusing their attack on the Caerleon. He scanned up through the various channels, pausing to listen to the multiple distress signals, the requests for help, the ships wanting to dock. Eventually, he found the computer frequency he was looking for and linked his on-board system into it. After a moment, his docking request registered on the screen. So far so good. All he had to do now was wait for a berth to be assigned to him. He moved the ship closer, until the Fenrir’s aft hanger bay filled his view. It was indeed a huge arkship, intimidating in design.

  ‘You’re an ugly brute,’ Derward muttered, making sure his on-board scanners were recording every piece of information they could glean without setting off an alarm on board the Fenrir.

  The computer pinged as his docking slot came up and the Fenrir’s systems took control of the Lupaus. This was Derward’s moment; he transmitted the piece of code he’d been given by the technicians from Icarus. It was a sophisticated worm program that would nest inside the Fenrir’s docking manifest and make it look like the Far Horizon had been berthed there before the battle. He felt his heart quicken, knowing that this could be the moment he was discovered.

  The ship drifted on in silence, Derward’s display giving nothing away. Above him, he could still see the Caerleon. Its fighters were returning to their bays as the arkship accelerated, powering up its Cube drive. The Draig arkships continued their assault as the Caerleon blipped out of sight, leaving the turbulent battlefield far behind.

  Derward smiled, relieved that at least one Kenric arkship had made it out of the Draig trap.

  ‘A trap . . .’ he mused, thinking out loud. They had been betrayed, that much was obvious to him now. Someone had fed them the information they needed to come here. Which meant there was a spy on board the Vengeance.

  A shrill ping made him jump, and he realized he’d been holding his breath: Berth number seventy-seven had been assigned to the Far Horizon.

  Satisfied, Derward sat back and watched as the gaping chasm of the hanger bay grew larger. The automatic docking system moved the Lupaus through the Gilgore grid, and into the arkship.

  Below him, he saw dozens of fighters being repaired. They were wasting little time, it seemed. Giant crane arms lifted scrap and debris into piles, waiting to be sorted. Anything of use would be recycled. The rest would be broken down and made into new machines, clothes, food proteins. Nothing was wasted on an arkship.

  The Lupaus jolted as a docking arm locked onto the hull and moved it down towards its berth. Snake-like cables spewed jets of gas over the ship; standard disinfection procedures. The white smoke obscured his view and, when it cleared, he could see the docking platform. The ship came to a gentle stop, its landing struts automatically deployed.

  Derward unbuckled himself and stood, stretching before moving through the cabin to the entrance ramp. A cool jet of steam greeted him; more disinfectant being sprayed around the entrance. He waited for it to clear, then he stepped through the opening.

  ‘That’s far enough!’

  Derward tensed.

  ‘Papers,’ the voice demanded.

  Derward took a step down the entrance ramp, stooping to see a customs officer approaching the ship. He smiled, holding his hands up, trying his best to look friendly.

  ‘Sure,’ Derward said happily. ‘Got them right here.’ He opened the pocket on his coveralls and pulled out a data card, handing it to the man. He was shorter than Derward, his face gaunt and drawn in spite of his boyish youth. He eyed Derward suspiciously, then held the data card over the pad in his other hand.

  ‘Far Horizon?’ the customs officer checked.

  ‘That’s her. Hell of a battle, huh? You guys okay in here?’

  ‘What were you doing outside?’

  ‘Had to clear from the other bay during the fight.’

  ‘Why?’

  Derward shrugged. ‘Damage, maybe? Clearing it for your fighters. I don’t know. You boys ordered the evac, not me.’

  ‘Which bay?’

  This wasn’t going to plan.

  ‘The damaged one.’ Derward sighed, feigning impatience. ‘Look, I was asleep, minding my own business, when your dock master kicks me out into the middle of a big old battle! Check the papers, the details are there.’

  The customs officer referred to his pad, scrolling through the information. Derward prayed the worm program had done its job.

  ‘You have whiskey?’ the customs officer asked.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Your manifest. Says here you have six crates of whiskey.’ The man smiled. ‘I haven’t had whiskey in a long time.’

  ‘Whiskey? Sure, yeah, I do. For an Orcades Draig. Been waiting six months for this delivery. Maybe a bottle fell out on the way up to him . . .’ Derward said with a wink.

  ‘The Valtais?’ The officer reddened. ‘No, no. Make sure the order is complete.’

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘Yes!’ He flipped the pad towards Derward. ‘Sign here.’

  Derward placed his thumb to the screen.

  The customs officer pulled the pad away, checking the screen again. Satisfied, he turned and walked away.

  Derward sighed with relief. He closed the entrance ramp and locked the ship. He surveyed the hanger bay, then he followed signs towards the conveyor station.

  As he walked from the hanger bay he joined others; pilots mostly, but also some traders and civilians. He pulled a cap from his pocket and put it on, keeping his eyes lowered as he joined a crowd near the conveyor station.

  ‘Hab level three, this way,’ a woman called, breaking the crowd into lines. Derward moved towards her and entered a waiting conveyor pod. The crowd filled the interior, pushing him up against the glass wall as the doors slide shut. The pod moved away, accelerating into a dark tube and, as they were buffeted along, Derward caught his first proper look at the population of the Draig arkship. Without exception, they all shared the drawn and tired look of the customs officer. Their eyes appeared sunken, with dark rings beneath them. Their cheeks cast deep shadows
over their narrow faces. Their hands were boney, their skin pale and dirty.

  The pod slowed, stopped, then dropped clumsily to a lower level.

  As the doors juddered open a synthesized voice announced, ‘Hab level three.’ The crowd disembarked, spreading out into the darkness, leaving Derward to explore. He found himself in a long corridor. The lights had failed, but small torches hung from the ceiling which gave off enough illumination to guide him. Either side of the corridor were doors to homes, but discarded rubbish and clutter blocked entry to many of them. He passed hopeless looking people dressed in dirty clothes. Some seemed to be in the distracted daze of a gravel head, but most were cowed by fear alone.

  He turned a corner and came across a small girl huddled in a doorway.

  ‘Water, sir?’ she asked, holding out a grubby hand.

  ‘Water?’

  She nodded slowly. Her lips were pale and cracked, her eyes feeble and unfocused.

  ‘Don’t you have water here?’ he asked.

  She didn’t reply but she kept her hand raised to him.

  ‘I don’t have any with me. There’s some on my ship, I’ll bring it to you.’

  ‘You have water?’ This voice came from behind. It was a man with an urgent desire in his words.

  ‘What’s happened here? Where’s your water?’

  ‘You bring me water,’ the man demanded. He sounded aggressive, but he rested his hand against the wall, obviously exhausted.

  Derward stood up to him. ‘Tell me what happened here, then I’ll bring you water, I promise.’

  ‘You an officer?’ The man straightened, rubbing down his creased jacket. ‘Loyal citizen, me. Hail to the Valtais.’

  ‘It’s okay, I’m not an officer. I’m a trader, just a merchant passing through. Do you have any food?’

  The man hesitated, checking behind him. ‘Not much,’ he confessed eventually. ‘Not much of anything anymore, not down here anyway. D’you have anything to eat or drink? For her, not for me.’

  ‘I’ll bring you something. What’s your name?’

  ‘Gibbons. This is my girl.’