Arkship Obsidian (The Arkship Saga Book 1)

by Niel Bushnell

  ‘But what about the Gilgore grid? Shouldn’t that have . . .’ Wynn’s voice tailed off. ‘I don’t know what that is, it just came to me.’

  ‘You’re remembering,’ Bara said.

  ‘But I don’t know what I’m remembering!’ Wynn seethed. ‘It’s just tiny fragments that are coming to me, and they make no sense!’

  ‘A Gilgore grid is a lattice of torium plasma that hugs the skin of an arkship,’ Bara explained. ‘It protects it from an attack.’

  ‘Yes,’ Wynn replied, sensing a recollection. ‘Yes, that’s right. So why–’

  ‘I don’t know!’ Bara cut in. ‘But they got past it, and the Obsidian is gone.’ Emotion took hold of her voice and she turned away from Wynn.

  He watched her, wanting to reach out and comfort her, uncertain what to do.

  ‘Approaching target,’ the computer voice announced. ‘Be aware, there is substantial debris outside. I may have to make appropriate course adjustments during rendezvous.’

  Bara composed herself and lifted her helmet over her head. Wynn did the same, feeling the rush of air on his aching skin.

  ‘Com check.’ Bara’s voice filled his ears.

  ‘I hear you,’ he replied.

  ‘Okay, got you here too. Clip up,’ she said, pulling out a cable line from her waist belt which she clipped into place on a metal ring by the hatch.

  Wynn followed her lead, attaching his cord to the hatch, and braced himself against the hull.

  Bara’s voice radioed into his helmet. ‘Computer, decompress the lifeboat and open the hatch.’

  ‘Decompression is a dangerous procedure and should not be undertaken without the appropriate training and precautions. Are you sure you wish to continue?’

  ‘Yes,’ Bara replied impatiently.

  ‘Decompression can lead to death. Are you–’

  ‘Yes! We know what we’re doing.’

  ‘I understand,’ the computer replied. ‘Decompression begins in ten seconds.’

  Bara shook her head. ‘Safety protocols will get us all killed.’

  The computer finished its dispassionate countdown and Wynn heard the noise of pumps removing the air from the compartment. After several long minutes, the door light changed to green.

  ‘Decompression complete,’ the computer announced.

  Wynn turned the hatch lock and pushed the door aside. The view caught his breath. In front of him, framed by the glittering starfield, was another spaceship, turning slowly so that its contours caught the light. Around it was the fragments of other ships, drifting in a collective orbit.

  A surge of dread and vertigo poured through him, forcing him to grip the edge of the hatch. Had he been on a spacewalk before? His fear suggested this was a new experience, but he had no way of knowing. The uncertainty frustrated him, only adding to his tension.

  ‘Are you okay?’ The voice was Bara’s, coming from his helmet’s speaker.

  ‘I’m fine,’ he replied, realizing he was breathing hard. He tried to calm his lungs, closing his eyes until the dizziness subsided. When he opened them again Bara was by his side, her helmet’s visor close to his own.

  ‘You don’t look so good,’ she said.

  ‘I’ll be okay, just needed a moment.’ He inhaled deeply, held it, then took in the rotating view again. The ship hung in a swarm of debris, all of it twisting and turning, bouncing off each other and finding new trajectories. And the light! The light was dazzling bright, casting hard shadows over the pitted hull in front of him. It was a modest sized craft with a flattened central body behind two elongated wing-like sections that pointed forwards in the direction of flight. The lights of the bridge windows sat between and above the two wings, giving off a warm yellow glow that illuminated the copper-colored hull. Along its length were the obvious signs of wear, tear and repair, and the entire starboard flank was scarred with long grooves that dug into the metal. An array of blackened engines bulked out the rear of the ship, making it look unbalanced, as if it was ready to blast away at any second.

  ‘There he is,’ Bara grinned. ‘Lexica. We’ll have to jet over to the docking hatch and see if we can open it from the outside. Do you want to wait here till I’m done?’ Bara offered.

  ‘No, I’m better now. Just dizzy for a second.’

  She hesitated, watching him. ‘You sure?’

  ‘Yes, really. I’ll be fine.’ He forced a smile, raising his hand in a ‘thumbs up’ gesture.

  ‘Okay, great. Just follow my lead.’ Bara stepped out of the hatch and her suit began to propel her towards her ship.

  Wynn watched her go, then took a step forward, his boots poking out over the threshold. Beyond was nothing, just empty space and dead spaceships. He unclipped his safety line and pushed himself out of the hatch.

  Immediately the systems of his suit took over, the tiny backpack steering him forwards. A glowing target appeared on the inside of his visor, locked onto Lexica’s docking hatch. There was nothing he needed to do, just relax and wait for the brief journey to be over.

  ‘Still okay there?’ Bara asked.

  ‘All good,’ Wynn replied. The nausea had subsided and he felt better now, well enough to take in the scope of it all. He could see the island of metal, turning slowly, revealing its underside to the light. About it, small pieces of wreckage drifted, and here and there were the tiny shapes of bodies, frozen in their last desperate grab for life. He felt minute, insignificant next to this vast silent graveyard.

  Wynn looked away, feeling like he was defiling something sacred. He turned to the light, feeling it’s warmth on his skin. His eyes narrowed, momentarily blinded as his visor adjusted to filter the brightness, then he could see again.

  ‘Ah!’ he cried.

  ‘Wynn? What’s happened?’ Bara asked, her voice broken by static.

  ‘It’s . . . it’s . . .’ Wynn struggled to put into words what lay before him. There, against the darkness of space was a snaking line of pulsing light. At first he thought it was two glowing circles, one larger than the other, but then he saw that they were one continuous, twisted form, a sinuous line of kinetic light that seemed to bore into his eyes, even with the visor’s adjustments. ‘It’s . . . beautiful.’

  He heard Bara chuckle over the radio. ‘Yes, I suppose it is. You really don’t remember anything? Not even that?’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘It’s called The Infinite,’ Bara said, her voice low. ‘It used to be a star, just like any other, until about two hundred years ago. Then that happened.’

  Wynn couldn’t take his eyes off the hypnotic view. ‘What could do that to a star?’

  ‘There’s lots of theories, but no one really knows. But whatever happened, it created a black hole at the center of The Sun and destroyed every single planet in the solar system. There’s nothing left now but rocks and gas and dust.’

  Wynn felt a wave of sadness overcome him. It was as if that strange sight was looking back at him, communing with him, filling him with sorrow, and he had to look away.

  The ship came into view again, a vast wall of metal. His visor counted down the distance to the hatch until his hands touched the surface.

  ‘Made it,’ he said to Bara who was resting next to the docking hatch’s entry panel.

  ‘Okay, good. I think the mechanism is intact, but the com lines to Lexica are severed. I should be able to . . .’

  The hatch turned slightly, then it began to slide into a recess in the hull. A soft bellow of released air pushed past them, rattling his suit, then silence once more.

  The interior was hidden in darkness until Bara shone her helmet light through the opening. ‘Funny . . . internal power is supposed to kick in when the hatch is triggered. Maybe that’s broken too.’

  She pulled herself through the opening and disappeared into the ship. Wynn drifted inside after her, glad to be out of the inquisitive stare of The Infinite. He switched on his helmet lights and followed Bara along a short corridor that led to a wide equipment store. Jun
k floated in front of them: tools, equipment, clothing, paper. He pushed them aside, watching as they floated away from him and ricocheted off the walls.

  ‘No grav either,’ Bara noted, as if she was making a mental repair list. ‘Lexica? Can you read me?’

  The ship did not reply.

  ‘This is gonna a be a bigger job than I realized,’ Bara moaned as she powered up a small console built into the wall. She scrolled through a series of options, then the docking hatch began to close. Light flickered overhead as a second interior door sealed off the connecting corridor and air started to fill the room. After a few seconds, the control panel beeped and went dark. The dim lights above their heads died as well, leaving just their helmet lights to guide them.

  ‘Power overload,’ Bara sighed.

  Wynn waited in the darkness as she set to work. Power returned and the lights overhead blazed into life. Artificial gravity dragged the floating junk to the floor, and Wynn stumbled as he found his balance. The air pumps hummed as they began to work again.

  ‘There!’ Bara explained. ‘First job done. We should have coms now as well.’ She pressed a button on the control panel. ‘Lexica, it’s me. Can you read me?’

  ‘Yes, Bara,’ the ship replied. ‘I suggest you make your way to the bridge, immediately.’

  ‘Lex, I’ve got a million jobs down here to look at. Can it wait?’

  ‘No, it most certainly cannot. We have company.’

  DRAIG

  Orcades Draig gazed out of the arkship Fenrir’s observation deck window at the wreckage of the Obsidian. As he watched the burning ruin he clenched and unclenched his hands, trying to contain the rage that grew within him. He knew that decisions made in the heat of the moment were always flawed, that cool thinking was needed to find the right solution, but the urge to strike out, to kill that fool Waffron for his error, was almost too strong to resist. That was why he had come here, away from the tension of the bridge, to his observation deck. The transparent barrier towered over him, the largest continuous wall of glass on any arkship by some considerable margin. The density of space filled his vision, making the demise of his prey even more appalling. Usually the giant vista calmed his mind, allowing him insight and strategy, but not today. This wasn’t helping, he realized.

  He turned his back on the destruction and walked down the steps to a semicircle of cushioned seating. There was his mother, exuding her typical calm majesty as she waited for him. Her cool blue eyes pierced him, her face concealing her thoughts.

  Orcades dropped into the sofa, unable to hide his own rage. ‘A waste,’ he muttered bitterly. ‘A pointless waste.’

  ‘Unfortunate,’ Sinnsro Draig noted without emotion, ‘but not pointless.’

  ‘An arkship destroyed! And not just any arkship. How can this be anything but a waste? There is nothing to be gained from this.’ Orcades jabbed at the new constellation of metal. About it a dust cloud had formed, stretching out into space, obscuring the stars.

  ‘Tell me what happened,’ his mother said calmly.

  ‘Waffron is a fool! He should—’

  ‘The facts,’ Sinnsro urged. ‘Do not let emotion rule you.’

  ‘You knew the plan; we were to take the Obsidian with minimal loss of life. Thyred was to be captured and he would have endorsed my claim.’

  ‘And what went wrong?’

  ‘Waffron had access to the Gilgore grid,’ Orcades said slowly. ‘With their defenses down it should have been a simple matter to disable the Obsidian’s engines.’

  ‘A simple matter?’

  Orcades reddened, conceding his mother’s point. ‘There is always the possibility of a miscalculation . . .’

  ‘Arkship engines carry an enormous amount of fuel. With the grid down it is hard to estimate the damage inflicted from a bombardment. A stray charge could easily ignite a fallorite rod . . . ‘

  ‘Yes, I know the theories,’ Orcades barked. ‘A burning rod can cause a cascade that could rip an arkship down its spine. But it’s just a theory!’

  ‘Until now,’ Sinnsro said, gesturing towards the window.

  ‘So, you’re saying Waffron should go unpunished?’

  ‘No, that is not what I’m saying, Orcades. Commodore Waffron should have anticipated the potential risk and reduced his bombardment, focusing on the command section rather than the engines. He must pay for his mistake.’

  ‘Exile?’

  Sinnsro chuckled. ‘Child, you are always so dramatic.’

  Orcades reddened. ‘I am not a child!’

  Sinnsro waited for Orcades to compose himself. ‘A demotion is suitably humiliating for a man of his age and experience. Commander, I think. And move him off the Fenrir, to a less prestigious ship. That should send the right message. Who is his second?’

  Orcades smiled to himself; she knew already. ‘Thorwald.’

  ‘Yes, Captain Thorwald, a stern sort, trustworthy. Make him your Commodore.’

  Orcades nodded, thinking.

  ‘Do not lead by fear, Orcades, lead with love.’ Sinnsro added with a maternal smile.

  ‘But, the Obsidian, none of this changes the facts. It is destroyed, and our plans lay in ruins with it.’

  His mother waited, her nostrils flaring as she exhaled. ‘This is not what we planned, but if you are to be Valtais you must learn to adapt to unexpected situations.’

  Orcades stood up. ‘If? If? I will be Valtais. This is just a setback. I will overcome . . . ‘

  Sinnsro raised a hand, stalling Orcades’ outburst. He blustered, then sat down once more.

  ‘You will be Valtais,’ Sinnsro confirmed, ‘but this is a critical time, Orcades. What you do next could affect the timing of your accession.’

  ‘I know that, I am sorry,’ he replied quietly, trying to emulate his mother’s control. He envied her discipline, and hated her for it as well. She sat before him, her spine upright, her sinewy hands clasped, laden with the rings of office, her robes stately and formal, her long neck heavy with jewelry, holding her head steadfastly towards him, impaling him with her unblinking eyes. He lacked her serenity, her conviction, her detachment.

  ‘The destruction of the Obsidian was unplanned, not even Reader Durante foresaw such an event,’ Sinnsro said, rising from her seat. ‘It complicates our plans, but it is not an insurmountable problem. A setback, that is all. In time, you can still rule both houses and claim what is yours.’

  ‘I cannot wait for tomorrow, I must act now!’ Orcades seethed. ‘You see in eternity, mother, I do not.’

  Sinnsro turned to face him, irritation furrowing her brow. ‘Your impulsiveness will be your undoing. Do not rush into this without consideration.’

  ‘Tell me then! Tell me what I should do?’

  Her face softened. She smiled benevolently at him then returned to the carnage outside. ‘We have taken the Tephrite. You will plant your flag there instead of the Obsidian. You will say that the Obsidian was the center of a cult plotting against the Church, that they worshipped only themselves, that they practiced abominable things. You had to act to cast off this darkness. You tried to reason with them but they destroyed themselves rather than face justice.’

  ‘But Thyred is—’

  ‘Thyred is dead!’ Sinnsro interrupted.’ His rule is over. This is your opportunity. This is what we have worked towards. Do not let sentiment for an old man cloud your decisions.’

  ‘But to say he was a godless . . .’ Orcades protested, ‘it lacks honor.’

  Sinnsro waved her hand dismissively. ‘Once you have power you can rewrite history any way you see fit. Say he was coerced . . . say whatever you like. But for now, until you have authority, you must have the people behind you. They must believe you have saved them, not enslaved them. You have defeated Thyred the man, now you must destroy Thyred the symbol. Do you understand?’

  Orcades let his eyes settle on the view. Explosions and fire dotted the wreckage, just distant islands of color in the dissipating dust cloud. It all seemed so fragile, so i
nsignificant.

  ‘I understand, mother,’ he replied.

  ‘Good. Do this, declare your heritage and take the House of Kenric. Become their prince and you will have proved your worthiness. No one can lay claim to the throne once you sit upon it.’

  Orcades stared at his mother. ‘You think the rumors are true? Surely the prince-in-waiting is dead.’

  ‘The Demon Star was destroyed in the attack. Thyred’s son is most certainly dead. The House of Kenric has no prince . . .’

  ‘And yet you hesitate.’

  Sinnsro’s eyes looked away. ‘Something the Reader said to me, about the future.’

  ‘You put too much faith in the Church, mother.’

  ‘That is the point, Orcades, is it not? Do not underestimate the power of faith, on the individual, or as a tool for the ruling elite to wield.’

  Orcades scowled. ‘What did he say?’

  ‘It was more what he did not say. He would not be drawn on the fate of Prince Halstead,’ Sinnsro said, thinking. ‘Perhaps your impulsiveness, in this instance, is a good thing.’

  Orcades studied the battlefield, spotting lifeboats retreating from the maelstrom. ‘Perhaps, we might mop up any survivors, just in case.’

  ‘A wise precaution.’

  The Infinite broke at the edge of the window, startling the view with its radiant light.

  ‘And perhaps you could have another chat with your Reader,’ Orcades said, ‘see if he can be more . . . specific.’

  ‘I will speak to him, but the Church will only be pushed so far. And we will need their blessing before your coronation.’

  ‘They have too much power.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Sinnsro conceded, ‘but you might try to cultivate their favor, and some of their power will come to you. We need them, if you are to be prince. When, Gods willing, that day comes I will concede the Valtais to you. I will become your Varjot Valtais, forever by your side, and you will rule over both houses, Kenric and Draig joined at last.’

  ‘Yes, mother.’ He ran his fingers through his dark hair, pushing it away from his forehead.

  The light from The Infinite became overwhelming. Automatically the view tinted, shielding them from the glare. The room became aglow with ochre shades that reminded Orcades of the artificial turn towards night that all ships followed.