Arkship Prophecy

by Niel Bushnell

  ‘But not zero?’

  ‘No, not zero. We must hope for the best.’

  ‘What if someone looks out of a window?’

  ‘The windows have been removed and sealed up. Only the flight deck has a view out to space. I am keeping us in their blind spot.’ Gofal explained patiently.

  Otto nodded, but he didn’t look satisfied by Gofal’s assurances.

  The prison ship grew larger, dominating the windows.

  ‘We have matched their speed and direction,’ Gofal explained.

  ‘So now we fly over there?’ Otto checked. They had gone over the plan three times in the last hour.

  ‘Float, not fly. We will traverse to the ship’s airlock. From there we will enter the vessel and subdue any resistance.’

  ‘And we can’t dock?’

  ‘Docking would alert the–’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ Otto interrupted quickly. ‘It’d alert the ship’s sensors to our presence.’

  Gofal looked at his companion. ‘Are you nervous, Otto?’

  ‘Of course I’m nervous! We’re about to break into a prison ship!’

  ‘You can stay here,’ Gofal suggested.

  Otto shook his head firmly. ‘No, I’m coming with you.’

  ‘It’s possible the ship is on autopilot, but there may still be hunter bots on board, or even Church Inquisitors. We will no doubt meet resistance.’

  ‘I know. I’m coming.’

  ‘Very well,’ Gofal said. He checked the ship was on auto and made his way to the airlock. Otto followed, checking the panel on his suit.

  ‘Please place your helmet onto your EVA suit and we can begin.’ Gofal said, closing the inner hatch.

  Otto locked his helmet in place, smiling through his nerves, and raised his thumb to Gofal.

  ‘Depressurizing,’ Gofal said, activating the air pumps. As the pressure dropped, he also reduced the artificial gravity, watching Otto’s response. ‘Have you done this before?’ he asked.

  ‘Once or twice, yeah,’ Otto replied nervously.

  ‘Have you ever fired a weapon?’

  Otto shook his head.

  Gofal turned to a sealed panel in the wall behind him. He entered the correct security information and the panel popped open to reveal a rack of four hand weapons. Gofal picked the first one up, checked its power cell and handed it to Otto. ‘It’s paired to your visor display, which is also linked to me. It will stop you from firing at me or anything else I deem as protected. Still, please be cautious.’

  Otto nodded, turning the gun over in his hand, testing the weight.

  Gofal removed two more weapons, holstering one in the leg harness he had attached to himself. The other he kept in his hand, ready to use.

  The computer pinged as the last of the air was removed from the airlock. Gofal activated the exterior door control and the distant light of the Infinite flooded the small compartment. Gofal looked down and found the Leylan not far below them. It appeared to be stationary, only the drift of the stars behind it gave away the constant movement of both ships.

  ‘Ready?’ Gofal checked.

  ‘Let’s do it,’ Otto replied, taking Gofal’s outstretched hand. The pair stepped out of the opening and floating away from their ship. Gofal heard Otto’s sharp inhalation through his helmet com system. The experience of weightlessness would no doubt be quite an exhilarating experience for him.

  Gofal activated his propulsion system, making tiny blasts that pushed him towards the Leylan. Otto trailed behind, dragged along by Gofal’s movement, his heavy breathing the only sound.

  The body of the prison ship grew larger, a wall of burnished metal and composites. Its long years of service had aged its once-clean hull, hiding its original colors under a patchwork of earthy tones. Gofal noted the evidence of repairs, the indentations of meteorites and other debris, the wear and tear that told the biography of this old ship. He slowed their approach, coming to rest on the hull beside its airlock. He inserted a probe from his finger into the door control, connecting with the onboard systems without triggering its defenses.

  ‘There are one hundred and eighteen people on board,’ Gofal said to Otto. ‘Presuming they have a minimal crew, that is almost all of the compliment of the Traum.’

  ‘Almost,’ Otto replied grimly.

  ‘It’s safe to presume some did not survive. The ship is on course for a loop round one of the larger asteroids in the Belt. Their course takes them above the elliptic of the Cluster before they return again.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  Gofal turned to look into Otto’s visor, his glowing blue eyes reflected in the glass. ‘It means this ship isn’t stopping. It’s going to loop round an asteroid then head back again. If they were going to transfer their prisoners, they would slow to dock somewhere. They are not doing that. Also, the shift above the ecliptic gives them the perfect opportunity to dump their cargo. The inherited velocity means it will be placed in a trajectory that will take it above the plane of the Cluster, out into deep space.’

  ‘The cargo?’

  ‘The prisoners,’ Gofal clarified. ‘I think we can presume this is an automated flight, and the prisoners will be dumped on slingshot.’

  ‘How long do we have?’ Otto asked.

  Gofal checked the ship’s computer. ‘We have twenty-eight minutes.’

  He turned back to the hatch and began the airlock sequence. The interior chamber was sealed, and the air pumped from it. Then, Gofal opened the exterior hatch and moved inside. Otto followed, his gun raised in anticipation. Gofal closed the exterior door and, with a rumble of old motors, the air began to return around them. A red light changed to green and the interior door clicked open. Gofal sensed the rush of air as the atmosphere equalized, then he stepped into the prison ship.

  ‘I can’t see anything,’ Otto complained in a nervous whisper.

  ‘Adjust your visor,’ Gofal suggested. Even though the interior was unlit, Gofal could see it perfectly. He pitied Otto with his limited range of vision. At least his helmet visor would compensate, allowing him to see the empty cargo hold.

  ‘There’s no one here,’ Otto said, exploring the space.

  ‘No,’ Gofal replied. He walked to the door recessed into the fore wall, finding it locked. ‘I am detecting heat signatures behind this door. It may be people.’

  ‘Can you open it?’

  Gofal plugged into the door panel. ‘Thankfully, whoever converted this to a prison hulk cut corners on the security systems. Stand by . . .’

  Behind him, Otto paced, gun in hand, muttering under his breath. Gofal circumvented the last passcode and the bulkhead door slid open. Beyond, in the next cargo hold, Gofal saw people. Their heads turned at the sound of the door opening, their wide pupils trying to see what was happening. Beyond them, something moved. A spider-like shape kicked its way through the throng, rushing towards Gofal.

  ‘Hunter bot!’ Gofal warned Otto as the machine pulled itself through the door and launched itself at them.

  DESTINATION

  ‘How is the boy?’ Captain Beric asked as Bara approached his chair on the flight deck.

  It was late and she was exhausted. Galen was asleep after hours with her and his counsellor. She hadn’t realized how deeply Galen’s anger ran, until today. Finally, they were talking about Faron, and she felt as if they could begin to properly grieve for their loss.

  ‘He’ll be fine,’ Bara said, not wanting to be drawn into further discussion. She hoped her visit to the flight deck would be brief, just a cursory check to ensure all was well, then to bed. ‘Has he gone?’ she asked.

  Beric checked his console. ‘Hanger deck flight log shows Halstead’s shuttle left two hours ago. He’ll be back on board the Caerleon now.’

  ‘Have they moved off?’

  ‘Not yet. Still station-keeping.’

  Bara reviewed the holograph, currently displaying a graphic of their position. ‘Then it’s time we got moving, don’t you think?’

  ‘Des
tination?’ Captain Beric asked.

  Bara sighed, dropping into the vacant chair next to the captain’s. She didn’t know where to go. They had run out of allies. There was nowhere safe left to hide. All that she could hope for was to run, and to keep on running. ‘I’m open to suggestions,’ she said with a devilish grin.

  Beric nodded, understanding. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever visited the Callisto Span.’

  ‘The clouds are supposed to be quite spectacular.’

  ‘Then with your permission . . .’

  ‘Please,’ Bara said, her smile becoming fragile.

  The captain turned from her, instructing his navigator to prepare for Cube transit. Bara stood, taking in the activity on the flight deck, satisfied that there was nothing more for her to do, and she turned to leave.

  She was almost at the door when the alarms began to sound.

  CONVERGENCE

  ‘You’ve been very lucky,’ Doctor Lund said, reviewing Halstead’s medical scans.

  ‘I don’t feel lucky,’ the prince replied with a sigh. ‘Tell me about the substance the Benwick medics found on my hands.’

  The doctor reddened, looking down. ‘I’m embarrassed that I missed it, but it would only have shown up on a deep scan, one that I wouldn’t normally do unless you had a serious injury. I can’t begin to say how sorry I am that I missed it.’

  Halstead waved away the man’s apology. ‘Just tell me what it means.’

  ‘It means someone has been drugging you, using the substance to keep you docile and pliable.’

  Valine! Halstead cursed her, knowing it could be no one else.

  Doctor Lund continued. ‘While you were on the Benwick we’ve been scanning for the substance here. Your suite was clear, but we found traces on your command chair on the flight deck. I think that’s how you got it on your hands. It’s absorbed through the skin into your bloodstream. The chair has been decontaminated now.’

  Halstead listened, and he realized how stupid he had been. ‘And what about Constable Fabien?’

  Surprised, Lund said, ‘What about him?’

  ‘You’re treating his death as suspicious?’

  ‘Well . . . no. Should I be?’

  ‘Yes,’ Halstead replied angrily. ‘He was killed, and I’m sure whoever drugged me is also behind his murder.’

  ‘Murder?’ Doctor Lund said, shocked.

  ‘Run every test you can, I’m convinced he was murdered.’

  ‘Very well,’ Lund said, tapping into his pad.

  At the same moment an alarm sounded. Halstead recognized it and knew his place was on the flight deck. He pulled himself up, removing the doctor’s sensors from his skin.

  ‘Where are you going? You can’t just get up in the middle of treatment!’ Doctor Lund protested, but Halstead was already staggering towards the door. He had to get to the flight deck immediately, his treatment could wait.

  He thumbed at his wrist com. ‘What’s happening?’ he asked, shouting over the alarm that rang throughout the Ark Royal Caerleon.

  Commander Watson responded. ‘My prince, we have detected a fleet of ships closing in on our position.’

  ‘Who are they?’

  ‘They’re not responding, but I think it’s the Church.’

  Halstead cut the com as he entered the elevator to the flight deck. Two royal guards flanked him, watching over him as he rested with his hand gripping the railing for support.

  ‘My prince,’ one of the guards said quietly. ‘Can I help you?’

  Halstead, his eyes closed, held up his hand to dismiss the guard. They continued in silence, Halstead breathing hard against the pain in his stomach. The painkillers Doctor Lund had injected would be kicking in soon, he hoped.

  The doors opened and Halstead stepped out onto a flight deck full of activity. He crossed the short distance to Watson’s command chair and waited for her report.

  ‘Four arkships, almost certainly Church vessels, plus eight smaller ships came out of Cube transit a few moments ago,’ Watson explained, her eyes fixed on her console. ‘They are moving this way, no com response yet.’

  ‘The Benwick?’

  ‘Already powering up for Cube transit.’

  Halstead nodded, the pain fading at last. ‘Begin Cube transit prep and charge the Gilgore grid.’

  ‘We’re going to fight the Church?’ Watson asked.

  Halstead shook his head. ‘A precaution, that’s all.’

  ‘They may see it as a hostile act.’

  ‘Keep trying to contact them, I want to speak to whoever is in charge of that fleet,’ Halstead replied, lifting himself into the chair beside Watson. He paused, staring at the arm rests, speculating if it was safe, then he brushed his fears aside. He manipulated the holograph, turning it to display the incoming fleet, Bara’s arkship and the Caerleon. ‘And contact the Benwick. I need to speak to Bara.’

  ‘They’re refusing com requests,’ Watson said. ‘But we’ve received an encrypted message from the Benwick, for your eyes only.’

  Immediately, the message was relayed to Halstead’s console. He placed his hand over the screen, confirming his identity, but the message didn’t appear. Instead, there was another level of security.

  ‘A password?’ he muttered to himself, trying to think what it might be. He tried typing in Wynn.

  The screen flashed red, an incorrect entry. He thought for a moment, ignoring the increasing tension of the flight deck crew who were preparing the arkship for battle.

  ‘Ah,’ he whispered, trying a new idea: Galen.

  Incorrect.

  ‘Church arkships confirmed,’ Watson said. ‘Still no response to com requests.’

  Halstead took a slow, deep breath. What would Bara use to protect this message? Something personal to the two of them, something that meant something. Halstead laughed, realizing it could be only one thing, the name of her beloved ship where they had spent their brief honeymoon.

  ‘Lexica,’ he said as he keyed in the letters.

  The screen cleared and Bara’s message revealed itself: she had sent him her evidence of the Church’s involvement in the destruction of the Solcor station. Along with it was another document containing a series of coordinates. He checked them against the holograph map and realized it was deep inside the Callisto Span. The cloud density would make the tracking device she gave him redundant.

  He smiled and said. ‘Give me navigation control.’

  Watson looked at him, a confused expression on her face.

  The Navigation Officer stood, closing down her console. ‘Control is yours.’

  Halstead’s screen changed, giving him access to the arkship’s flight plan. He inputted the coordinates Bara had sent him, then locked down access so that only he knew the ship’s destination. Someone had told the Church where to find Bara, and Halstead didn’t want to risk them being followed.

  ‘Confirm destination locked,’ Watson said.

  Halstead nodded, checking the progress of the Cube drive. It would be another eight minutes before they could leave. ‘What are the Church ships doing?’

  ‘Still no contact . . . and they’re still closing, Gilgore Gird activated.’

  ‘Ready to fight,’ Halstead noted to himself.

  ‘The Benwick just went into Cube transit,’ Watson said.

  ‘Okay, keep trying the com.’ Halstead stroked his beard, relieved that Bara escaped. If he could keep the Church occupied for a while it might–

  ‘Ark Royal Caerleon,’ a voice boomed over the flight deck’s com system. ‘This is the blessed arkship Prophecy. You will discharge your Gilgore Grid immediately and prepare to be boarded.’

  UPGRADE

  The hunter bot’s arm rammed towards Gofal’s head, its movements too fast for any human to avoid. But Gofal had been trained to kill and he knew how to defend himself.

  He ducked the assault, turning to the side, ripping at the hunter’s outstretched arm, pulling him off-balance. The hunter bot responded, moving one of its other ar
ms – it had four, a worrying advantage over Gofal’s two – and struck Gofal’s chest. Immediately, an appendage jutted from its palm, attempting to penetrate into Gofal’s inner workings. Gofal pulled away, disconnecting the captured arm at the elbow joint, and struck the hunter’s face. It was a rapid attack, allowing Gofal the chance to pull back from the burrowing needle. The disconnected arm, still controlled by the hunter bot, clawed at him, its fingers trying for one of Gofal’s eyes. He dropped the appendage to the floor and focused on the hunter’s body instead, attempting to incapacitate it. If he could connect with his opponent’s cerebral matrix, he could overload its reasoning center, but that would mean getting under its substantial outer protection.

  The hunter bot was much larger than Gofal, heavily armored, especially around its neck and shoulders. While Gofal was a utilitarian bot, designs for multiple uses, this machine was built for the singular purpose of hunting.

  The bot recovered, its remaining arms lunging towards Gofal. He had hoped for this outcome: now it was off balance, its weight over its front foot. Gofal swung at the hunter bot’s leg, toppling it to the ground. It fell onto Gofal, dragging him with it, shifting its weight to pin him down.

  Gofal surmised that the bot had orders to capture Gofal, if he encountered him. That gave him a small advantage. Gofal could destroy the bot, but it would not dare to damage Gofal’s mind.

  The two machines rolled across the floor, their strikes on each other illuminating the darkness with brief sparks and flashes. Gofal knew he must end this quickly, otherwise the bot would signal for help. His fingers found the edge of the hunter bot’s armored neck and slid beneath, unleashing a jolt of electricity, eighty-five percent of Gofal’s stored power. The cargo hold became a blue-white tableau of frozen faces staring at the pair of warring machines. The light died away, leaving the hunter bot dazed. Gofal saw his opportunity and pulled himself free of its grip. He found a cargo container and dropped it onto the machine’s head. The hunter bot lifted it aside and staggered to its feet.