Arkship Obsidian (The Arkship Saga Book 1)

by Niel Bushnell

  ‘I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.’

  ‘Lexica?’ Wynn called.

  ‘Hello, sleepyhead,’ the ship replied. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Where’s Bara?’

  ‘Making repairs. She’s suited up on level three.’

  Wynn pressed the door button again.

  ‘I can’t let you out, sorry,’ Lexica replied. ‘The bridge and the adjoining corridor are the only parts of the ship with an air pocket and life support now. Bara shut down life support to the rest of the ship after she left. You wouldn’t like it on the other side of that door.’

  ‘But it’s freezing in here,’ Wynn moaned.

  ‘But there’s air, so that’s good. Every cloud . . .’

  Wynn returned to his chair. Already the padding was cool against his body. ‘Where are we headed?’

  ‘See that dark black nothing up ahead?’

  Wynn leaned over to the windows and rubbed a circle out of the frost. ‘No,’ he replied. All he could see was the gloom of space and the bright dots of stars and nebula.

  ‘Well, that’s where we’re going.’

  He sunk back into the chair, wondering how long he’d have to suffer that computer. The cold was making his skin ache. He touched the scars and wondered how long his face had looked this way.

  There was a rush of air and his ears popped as the hatch slid open. Bara appeared wearing a lightweight environ-suit. She stepped through the door, closed it again and removed her helmet. About her, the atmospheric pumps forced air back onto the bridge, equalizing the pressure.

  ‘Sol!’ she exclaimed. ‘It’s cold in here. Lex, turn the heating up, will you?’

  ‘If I must.’

  Bara smiled. ‘Thank you, Lex.’

  Almost immediately Wynn felt a warm current of air drifting from beneath the console, rising past his legs and warming his icy fingers.

  ‘I don’t think your ship likes me,’ Wynn said in a cautionary whisper.

  ‘He doesn’t like anyone, not really,’ Bara teased. She squinted at the windows, watching as the frost began to thin.

  ‘Still on course?’ she checked.

  ‘Straight and true,’ Lexica replied.

  Wynn checked the window again, wondering if he was missing something. ‘Does someone want to explain where it is you’re taking me?’

  Bara’s face lit up with a broad smile. ‘Melchior, my home.’

  He checked the view once more. ‘But there’s nothing out there.’

  ‘Look closely.’

  He rubbed the closest window panel with his sleeve, clearing it of frost and moisture, and stared into the darkness once more. He saw the familiar background of stars breaking the blackness apart. The longer he looked the more stars he saw until he realized the black wasn’t absolute. Everywhere he looked he saw stars.

  Almost everywhere.

  His eyes rested upon a patch of space where he couldn’t find any starlight. He let his eye describe the shape, checking to make sure it wasn’t a trick of the light. There was a cylindrical area devoid of stars.

  ‘What . . . what is that?’ Wynn asked, pressing a finger to the window.

  ‘An arkship,’ Bara grinned. ‘Melchior. It has no exterior lights, no emissions, no radio noise, nothing. To all but the most inquisitive eyes it’s just a piece of rock floating through space. And not very interesting rock either; nothing worth mining. Its orbit it finely adjusted so it always sits in the shadow of an asteroid orbiting closer to The Infinite, that way its surface receives no light, and there’s no thermal difference between the night and day sides. It’s invisible, hidden in shadows.’

  ‘Bara . . .’ Lexica’s voice cautioned.

  ‘Yeah, I really shouldn’t be telling you this,’ she said to Wynn with a frown. ‘Probably have to kill you now.’

  Wynn tensed.

  ‘Sol! I’m kidding! And I don’t have much of a choice but to tell you about it, do I? We’ve got nowhere else to go. Which reminds me . . .’ She jumped into her seat and began to check the scrolling information on her console. ‘Normally we plot an indirect route to avoid being tracked, but we don’t have enough fuel for a walk round the park, so coming straight at them is going to spook a few folk.’

  Wynn watched as she tapped out a rhythm on the console. Out of the window he saw the glare of their spotlights flashing.

  ‘It’s a really old form of communication,’ Bara explained. ‘Dates back to before the Fracture, when the Cluster was actual planets and moons with solid earth beneath your feet. Can you imagine? It’s called Morse code. I’m sending out a message by flashing my lights at them. Hopefully they know I’m friendly.’

  ‘Will they respond?’ Wynn asked.

  Bara shook her head. ‘No. But hopefully they’ll let us in now.’

  She changed the display’s view and a holograph of Melchior appeared above the console. Bara was right: there was nothing that marked it out as anything but a natural clump of rock. No technology, no obvious form of propulsion, nothing to see except a pitted grey surface marked by craters and dust.

  Outside the dark shape grew, blotting out the stars, but still no details of the surface became obvious. The holographic display was the only way to discern surface contours and scale.

  ‘It’s huge!’ Wynn gasped.

  Bara smiled proudly. ‘Over twenty thousand people in there, all living outside of the hierarchy of the families, outside of the scrutiny of the Church.’

  ‘You’re self-sustaining?’

  ‘Almost. What we don’t make or recycle we trade from the outside. There are a few of us, like me, who choose to live outside. We find work, we trade for things we need and return home when we’ve got enough supplies.’ She sighed wistfully. ‘They’re not gonna be happy that I jettisoned most of my cargo into space.’

  ‘I’ve logged its location,’ Lexica noted. ‘When we have finished my repairs, we can attempt a retrieval.’

  ‘If it’s not been picked up by scavengers first.’

  Ahead the view was split in two; below was darkness, above was the grey-black of space filled with stars. Wynn could see a clear dividing line, a ragged horizon of mountains and valleys. All of Bara’s attention was on the holographic display now, watching as the terrain rolled beneath them.

  ‘Marker one approaching,’ Lexica said.

  ‘Got it,’ Bara replied. She tilted the ship, slowing their approach.

  ‘Marker two . . . ‘

  Bara nodded. ‘I see it. Shut down everything but thrusters. I have control.’

  ‘You have control. All auxiliary systems shut down.’

  The lights on the bridge dimmed. Only Bara’s console remained illuminated, casting a cool green glow over her face. Wynn felt the ship dropping towards the rocky exterior. Outside the stars had disappeared. They were close to the surface now, gliding into a depression.

  ‘Marker three,’ Lexica said, his voice softer now.

  ‘Locked on,’ Bara whispered.

  The ship turned slowly, descending.

  ‘Landing gear down. Docking clamps ready . . .’

  A cloud of dust pushed past the windows, coating them in a grey ash that obscured their view.

  ‘Contact light,’ Lexica noted.

  ‘Clamps engaged . . . cutting thrust . . . touchdown.’ Bara let go of the control yoke, shut down the engines and leaned back as the ship became still.

  Outside the dust settled, drifting back towards the surface.

  ‘Two meters off center,’ Lexica noted.

  Bara frowned. ‘Think you could do better?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well . . . maybe you could . . .’

  ‘I could.’

  ‘Lex, don’t you have something to do?’

  ‘No, not particularly.’

  ‘Well, find something!’ She turned to face Wynn. ‘Welcome to Melchior.’

  Wynn stared out at the blackness. ‘What happens now?’ he asked.

  Bara smiled, her eyes twinkling. ‘
You’ll see.’

  Wynn heard a series of distant bangs followed by a low vibration. He felt a sickly sensation in his stomach, as if he was moving, and grabbed the back of the chair.

  ‘It’s okay,’ Bara smiled. ‘We’re going inside.’

  He looked to the holograph display. The icon representing Lexica was descending through a circular chamber dug into the rock.

  ‘We’re going down to the main hanger bay,’ Bara explained, pointing to the holograph. Wynn heard a grinding noise coming from above them – the landing pad hatch closing, he suspected. They were completely hidden now.

  ‘How will your people take to a stranger coming here?’ Wynn asked.

  Bara took a moment to reply, her face tense. ‘I’ll be honest, they won’t like it, but I’ll deal with it. When we stop I’ll go out and talk to them. You stay in here until I come for you, okay?’

  Wynn nodded, feeling hemmed in.

  Outside was a faint glow of light, getting stronger as they descended. He could see detail in the rocky wall of the chamber as it passed by the window – long shadows defining the jagged surface. As the light grew their decent slowed until, with a jolt, they came to a halt. Outside of the windows was a vast hanger bay, its far wall hidden in the distance. He saw other ships, resting on individual pads connected by raised walkways. A central tower dominated the hanger, a circular structure with a ring of illuminated windows at its peak.

  Tiny dots of people approached their berth along one of the walkways. Wynn saw the weapons in their hands and couldn’t help feeling a tremble of anticipation.

  ‘Right,’ Bara said as she stood, ‘I won’t be long.’

  She opened the hatch and disappeared from the bridge. The door hissed shut behind her, and Wynn noted the ping of a lock being activated. He wasn’t going anywhere.

  He rested in the chair and closed his eyes, trying to remember something from before the attack. He lost track of time, feeling his mind drift towards sleep, when he heard voices inside the ship. They spoke quickly, in a language he didn’t understand.

  The hatch door opened and two men entered, both holding long weapons pressed into their shoulders. Their faces were covered by black scarfs wrapped over their mouth and nose, but their keen eyes were exposed and locked onto Wynn.

  ‘Out of chair . . . slow!’ the first man said, his voice deep and imposing.

  As Wynn stood he caught sight of Bara on the other side of the hatch. She shrugged apologetically at him.

  The first man lowered his gun and pulled Wynn’s hands behind his back and snapped something onto his wrist. ‘Not try anything, okay?’

  ‘What would be the point?’

  The strap around his wrist tightened, then he felt it pull at his other hand, drawing them together.

  ‘Good,’ the man replied. ‘Keep it good.’

  He took Wynn by the arm and led him off the bridge, through the ship to the lowest deck. Ahead of him he saw an open entrance ramp bathed in light. He walked down it, squinting his eyes, adjusting to the glare, towards a group of waiting people. At the center of the gathering was a stout woman in her late fifties with long silvery blonde hair. Wynn’s captor delivered him to the waiting congregation, pulling on his arm to stop him a short distance in front of them.

  ‘Forgive the shackles,’ the woman said to Wynn. ‘We get so few visitors here, and we do cherish our isolation. We must be cautious.’

  ‘I’m not here to hurt you,’ Wynn said.

  The woman nodded, taking a step towards him. ‘You say that with conviction, and I’m sure you believe it. But belief is a powerful thing, and it can hide many truths.’

  Wynn glanced over his shoulder: Bara stood behind him, listening.

  ‘My name is Selena Varjo,’ the woman said to him. ‘I am Chancellor of Melchior.’

  ‘I’m Wynn.’

  ‘Just Wynn? No other name?’

  Wynn tensed, trying to dig up something about his identity.

  Chancellor Varjo sighed, avoiding his gaze. ‘Bara has explained who you are, and about your lack of identity. This worries me.’

  Wynn stared at her, puzzled. ‘Worries you? Why?’

  ‘You are a man who does not know himself. If you cannot trust your own memory then how can I trust you?’

  Wynn hesitated. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Neither do I,’ Chancellor Varjo replied sadly. ‘So, we must take certain measures to protect ourselves.’

  ‘Measures?’

  Chancellor Varjo turned away from him. ‘The chief will explain. I am sorry, Wynn. We have worked far too long here in Melchior to risk you damaging what we have achieved.’

  Behind him he could hear sobbing. Was it Bara? He was about to turn around when he felt heavy hands pushing on his shoulders, forcing him to his knees.

  ‘I don’t mean you any—’

  There was a sharp pain at the base of his neck, a jolt of electricity that rattled through his spine, and his world dissolved away to nothing.

  CIRCADIA

  The cell was perfectly spherical, a white space of soft padded walls. Wynn floated at the center, drifting gently in the zero-gravity bubble. He’d given up trying to move: each time he tried to reach for the walls he felt the inevitable tug of artificial gravity keeping him in the middle of the space. Every movement was checked and counteracted. He could do nothing but float and wait.

  Distant music haunted him, a melancholic voice singing in a language he didn’t understand, drifting through the walls from somewhere else. He heard muffled voices as well, getting closer. A break in the smooth cladding appeared, a fine line that became a circle. The newly-defined shape sunk away, revealing an opening, and Wynn felt his body being gently pushed towards it. He gripped the edge of his prison and fell through the opening, landing on a cold metal floor beyond.

  ‘Sol! You look rough.’ He saw Bara staring down at him. Beside her was a broad-shouldered man in his forties who lifted Wynn to his feet, supporting him as he recovered.

  ‘Thanks. That was one hell of a night,’ Wynn quipped. ‘Have I missed breakfast?’

  ‘It is middle of afternoon,’ the man replied as he guided him to a pod-like vehicle. Wynn dropped into one of the seats inside the pod, feeling the novelty of gravity dragging at his muscles once more.

  Bara joined him, as did the burly man.

  ‘You might remember the chief,’ Bara said, gesturing to her companion. ‘He had a scarf over his face the last time you saw him.’

  ‘And a gun,’ Wynn added.

  ‘Oh, I still have gun,’ the chief chuckled.

  The pod door closed as it began to accelerate into a tunnel.

  ‘Where are we going?’ he asked.

  ‘We’ve got you set up with a room,’ Bara smiled, ‘but you’re free to go anywhere you want now.’

  Wynn stared at her. ‘No interrogation? No questions first?’

  ‘It is done,’ the chief said. ‘We go over everything. You seem okay.’

  ‘I . . . I can’t remember that.’

  ‘Deep . . . deep . . .’ The Chief hesitated and turned to Bara, speaking to her in a different language.

  ‘Brain scans,’ Bara replied.

  ‘Yes!’ the chief laughed. ‘Deep brain scans. All done with deep brain scans. Not conscious . . . unconscious while we work. Lab men happy with results, but they can’t get past memory block. Professional job.’

  ‘A memory block? It’s not from the battle?’ Wynn checked, his mouth dry. ‘It’s not just concussion?’

  The chief laughed. ‘No: on purpose . . . deliberate. Someone does not want you to remember. You have enemies? An ex-wife, yes?’

  Wynn’s mind raced. Instead of answers he just had more and more questions. He rubbed his aching neck, and his fingers sensed a fine cut to his skin.

  The chief smiled at him. ‘Insurance, in case you’re not as safe as we think.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Kill switch. Step out of line, be naughty, we switch you off for good.
’

  ‘It’s more than that,’ Bara added. ‘It’s an implant plugged into your brain. Once you leave here, if you try to come back uninvited, or disclose information about Melchior, it will activate the kill switch.’

  ‘Clever thing,’ the chief noted proudly.

  ‘You people are insane!’ Wynn muttered.

  ‘Not insane, just cautious,’ Bara replied. ‘I’ve got the same implant as you, had it for years. It won’t do you any harm. We’ve got a lot to look after here. Come on, I’ll show you.’

  Beyond the windows, he saw lights whizzing by against the blackness of the tunnel. They began to slow, giving way to a brightly lit concourse, full of people and other pods. The door opened and they stepped outside. The air smelled sweet here, a thick perfumed scent catching his nose.

  ‘Where are you taking me?’ he asked.

  ‘I want to show you what we have here,’ Bara replied. ‘I want you to understand why we have to protect ourselves.’ She turned to the chief and smiled, speaking again in her own language. The chief replied, sounding doubtful. He eyed Wynn, bowed politely to Bara, then returned to the pod, leaving the pair alone.

  Bara led Wynn through the square, past the inquisitive stares of the other people there.

  ‘Ignore them,’ she said,’ they don’t get to see many new faces.’

  At the end of the promenade was a large bulkhead hatch with thick protective doors. The aroma was stronger here, carried on the warm breeze that came through the hatch. It was a sweet smell, distinctive and pleasant. Bara stopped by the doorway and smiled. ‘I think you’ll like this.’

  She held out her hand to him. Wynn hesitated, festering in his temper, but her smile was infectious and he didn’t have the will to resist. Together, they stepped over the raised door seal and walked into another world.

  Wynn stood there, just staring, trying to make sense of what he saw. Then he began to laugh. It was an involuntary reaction of joy, a way for him to process the complex emotions he felt on seeing this strange sight.