‘You have to! I can help you, please!’
‘No.’
She turned away, activating the escape pod.
A warning alarm sounded, then the pod jolted away from the hatch. Valine glanced back to see Aditsan’s face at the window. He was no longer shouting, no longer beating at the glass, he was just standing there, watching with an expression of resigned sadness on his beaten face as flames encircled him.
The pod accelerated, pushing her against the seats harness, and the view changed rapidly as she escaped, taking her breath away. The Haukr was in ruins, its hull broken into burning sections by the Merred family’s assault.
She had been so close, but now it was all for nothing, her ambition in pieces. Valine realized she was crying, and she became angry with herself. She was a fighter, always had been. There was no room for self-pity. She would–
A beam struck the Haukr, piercing its hull and streaking past Valine’s pod. It began to spin with ferocious speed, its propulsion system fighting to regain control.
‘Warning, structural failure. Decompression imminent.’
The voice was the pod’s computer system. Valine checked the console; the pod was fractured, leaking air and fuel, its integrity compromised. The craft began to creak and wheeze, like it was dying, and she felt her seat shift. The air cooled, and she found it harder to breathe. She gasped, feeling ice forming on her skin as she looked around the pod for some way out of this situation.
Valine left her seat and found a cabinet of lightweight spacesuits. Three of them were torn and burned, but a forth seemed intact. She pulled it on and put the helmet over her head, fighting the desire to close her eyes and rest. The seal closed, robbing her ears of the sickening noise of the pod’s destruction. All was silent now, just her labored breathing, nothing else.
There should be the gentle hum of an air pump, she realized. The suit wasn’t pressurized. She checked the control panel on her arm, jabbing at the screen, but the suit refused to feed her oxygen. She scrambled to the other side of the pod where another locker housed a further four suits. The door was buckled and wouldn’t open. Valine pulled at it, cursing and screaming for it to open, but it refused to give. Breathless, feeling her vision tunnel, she turned back to the door hatch and the little window. For a second, she thought she saw Reader Aditsan there, cursing her with a mocking smile, but it was just frost boiling away on the glass.
There was one final sound – the crunch of metal as the ceiling cracked apart. She could see stars rushing by as the pod spun. For an instant, the light of the Infinite flashed overhead, then it was gone again, leaving icy darkness in its wake. Valine was alone, finally the ruler of her tiny kingdom. Everything she could see was hers.
As she fought to breathe, Valine cried. They were tears for the little girl she once was, an apology for breaking the promise she had made to her all those years ago.
‘I’m sorry,’ she managed, feeling the cold vacuum of the Cluster claim her as its own.
INTERFERENCE
‘What is happening?’ Scribe Akito Mori bellowed from his elevated chair overlooking the Prophecy’s Command Chancel.
‘Merred family arkships are attacking us,’ one of his Ministers replied.
‘I can see that!’ Mori replied, pointing to the vast holograph map beneath him. ‘But how?’
The great vessel trembled under a renewed onslaught, and the Prophecy turned, billowing smoke and debris into space.
The Minsters worked quickly, returning fire on the Merred vessels, inflicting damage on their capital arkships.
‘Gilgore Gird critical,’ another Minister called out.
Reader Fischer climbed from the Command Chancel floor up to the Scribe’s high position. He bowed quickly, then approached as the ship listed. ‘Scribe, recommend we retreat.’
The Scribe stared at him in disbelief. ‘You command my flagship, Fischer, the greatest ship of the Church of the Infinite, and you advise retreat?’
Reader Fischer nodded, holding onto the Scribe’s chair. ‘These Merred ships have weapons we know nothing about. I cannot risk you in battle, Scribe.’
A plume of smoke bellowed out of a crack in the wall, filling the lower level with a gray haze. Alarms began to sound, joining in with the coughing and shouting Ministers to form an unnerving chorus. Mori looked at the holograph, watching the flickering image of the Merred fleet, then he gazed upon Bara and Halstead’s arkships. He closed his eyes, making a silent prayer, letting his anger subside, then he looked to the Reader and smiled. ‘Very well, take us home.’
The Reader ran back to his station, shouting at the Ministers, and the giant craft began to turn away from the battlefront.
The Scribe watched from the relative comfort of his detached position, cursing the Merred family for their interference.
AFTERMATH
Halstead watched as the last Church arkship disappeared from the Callisto Span, leaving behind a wasteland of debris. He sat back in his chair, feeling old and tired.
The Haukr was all but destroyed. This morning, it had been an arkship under his command, along with the rest of the Draig fleet. Now, the Kenric, Draig alliance was in ruins, as was the House of Kenric itself. Many Kenric ships had remained with the Draig fleet, leaving just the Evanine with the Caerleon under Halstead’s command. His decision to oppose the Church of the Infinite had divided his people, breaking apart generations of unity. He thought of their family motto; We are Kenric and we endure. It was an empty phrase now, and the House of Kenric was at an end.
Almost.
He was still Prince Halstead, he reminded himself, and he still had a population who looked to him for leadership. There was still a future to fight for, and new alliances to be made.
‘My prince,’ Commander Watson said. ‘A new ship is approaching and they’re asking to speak to you.
‘Who is it?’ Halstead asked.
‘He says it’s Gofal.’
CRIMSON
Scribe Akito Mori sat with his head in his hands, composing his thoughts before he had to give his sermon. He thought about what he would say, how he would frame the battle in the Callisto Span. Every word mattered, every intonation was important. The Cluster was at a critical moment, and even something as simple as his voice could shape its destiny.
He sat up, taking in the sanctuary of his inner chamber. He was alone, cocooned and safe, away from the unfolding crisis of faith that was spreading out to every family, every arkship across the Cluster.
Mori walked over to the wall console and activated his holograph. The lights dimmed and the Plan bristled into view, a giant equation of numbers and letters, a cloud of possibilities all leading to the proposed future of the Restoration, the point where they could finally undo their great folly and restore the solar system to its former glory. This hell of an existence would be at an end.
But the Plan was in ruins, a disorderly chaos of red-shifted calculations, leaving the end point unresolved. The Plan always had some errors, some deviation, but it had been stable for decades, until Mori became the Scribe. Since then, the Plan had fallen from a neat ocean of green into a red confusion, a plague of crimson that infected every branch of the Plan. There was no hope of a Restoration now, and today’s events had only made things worse. The probability of total chaos, of an end to humanity, was at its highest level since the early days of the Fracture.
He had heard what people whispered about him. They called him the Crimson Scribe. They blamed him for this, but he knew better. It was Halstead and Bara and the heathen bot that were to blame, not him. They had brought them to the brink of oblivion, and they would pay for their actions.
He stepped back, noting that the Librarians had already entered the new data concerning the Merred family. They had been neutral for so long, and he wondered what had prompted their change of heart now. Their actions complicated things further, increasing the flow of red to the very edges of the Plan, and if Mori was to save mankind, the Merred family would have to be
destroyed.
He shut down the simulation, and the lights brightened, leaving the room feeling sterile and isolating. Mori felt small and alone. Sometimes, doing the work of the Gods, being the righteous protector of humanity, was a thankless job.
PORTENTS
The entrance ramp groaned open, dropping onto the hanger deck with an alarming thud. The Adventure was in need of some attention, and Gofal began to make a list of required repairs as he walked down the ramp and stepped onto the flight deck of the arkship Benwick. He had enjoyed the solitude of his journey from the prison ship Leylan, it had given him the space to think, but he’d been surprised to find that he also missed his conversations with Otto who had chosen to stay behind with his family. Now, as he saw people approaching, Gofal was looking forward to conversation once more.
‘Sol!’ Bara exclaimed. ‘I never thought I’d see you again.’
Gofal bowed, taking her hand. ‘Bara, I’m glad to be here.’ He turned to the young boy waiting behind her. ‘This must be Galen,’ Gofal added, studying him.
Galen smiled and said, ‘Hello,’ looking hesitant.
‘Is the prince here yet?’ Gofal checked.
Bara pointed behind him, to a shuttle entering the hanger deck’s giant portal. ‘This is him.’
They watched as the craft settled on the adjacent pad, its engines coming to a stop. The entrance ramp lowered, and a procession of royal guards marched out and formed two lines, waiting for their prince.
Bara sighed, rolling her eyes.
After a moment, Halstead appeared, looking older than Gofal remembered. They walked to meet him, slowing as he approached. Gofal found the interactions of this broken family fascinating. They kept a formal distance from each other, out of arm’s reach, but there was a warmth between them, a sense of shared loss that had brought them together. The conversation was clipped and restrained, except when Halstead turned to greet Gofal. His eyes widened and Gofal noticed emotion in his voice as he looked at his old friend.
‘My Gods, Gofal, is it really you?’
‘I’m afraid so,’ Gofal said, hoping to lighten the mood. ‘You look well,’ he lied. The prince was exhausted.
They walked to an observation room, making small talk, discussing the repairs to the Benwick, speculating about their new ally in the Merred family, filling the time until the four of them were alone.
‘We are here, Gofal,’ Halstead said, drinking from a glass. ‘You asked for us, and we came. Why all the secrecy?’
Gofal paused, looking at each of them in turn, knowing that things would never be the same again.
‘You all know of my encounter with the Infinite Gods,’ Gofal began. ‘You know that I was given precise information about the future.’ He looked at Halstead. ‘And you had a similar encounter, but your insight was vague and ephemeral.’
Halstead nodded, waiting to hear what Gofal had to say.
‘I have spent the last decade trying to determine why I was given that information. I did not come up with an answer.’
‘Perhaps there is no answer,’ Bara suggested.
Gofal did not address Bara’s suggestion. There was more he had to tell them. ‘Recently, I decided to deviate from the future events I had been shown. I used that knowledge to save lives. The future, as I knew it, has now changed. Given that the Infinite Gods had the ability to show me future events, I have concluded that they must have known I would eventually deviate from their visions.’
‘They expected you to change the future?’ Halstead asked.
Gofal nodded. ‘I have given it much thought and it is the only logical conclusion: I believe it was a test to see if I was willing to go beyond my preconceptions . . . to grow.’
‘They were preparing you,’ Galen said quietly.
Gofal stared at the boy, surprised by his insight. ‘Yes, that’s it. I think they were helping me, pushing me to be more than I was, to think in a more abstract way so that I was ready for what is to come.’
Halstead put down his glass. ‘What is to come?’
‘It involves all of you,’ Gofal replied, gauging their reactions. ‘Some time ago, I also discovered a coded text from the past, a two-hundred-year-old document that was addressed to me.’
Galen laughed, but his mother scolded him with a glance.
‘It is an absurd concept, I agree,’ Gofal said to the boy. ‘Nonetheless, it is true. Someone from the past with information about the present has sent me a message. I now believe that someone is me.’
‘You?’ Halstead checked. ‘How could you send yourself a message?’
‘It’s quite simple really: I travel into the past.’
This time it was Bara who laughed. ‘I’m sorry, Gofal, but that’s crazy. Time travel isn’t possible.’
‘Technically, it’s improbable, but not impossible. Furthermore, I believe I have been given a glimpse of that past by the Infinite Gods. I saw a time just before the Fracture.’
‘How?’ Bara asked him.
‘I discovered a distortion in space-time, the point at which the Fracture began. It is a tear in the geometry of our four-dimensional universe and may well be a gateway to the past.’
‘So you can use it to travel back in time?’ Galen’s eyes widened, fascinated by the notion.
‘You would need to make very precise calculations in order to access it, calculations so complex that there is only one computer that is capable of the task.’
‘Which is?’ Halstead asked.
‘The mainframe used by the Church of the Infinite. The one used by them to calculate the Plan, their simulation of the future.’
Halstead shook his head doubtfully. ‘You’re saying that the only people who can help to send you into the past are the Church of the Infinite?’
‘No, they will not help us. We will have to do it without their consent.’
Halstead stood, pacing the room, his anger growing. ‘We? You expect us to help you break into the most secure computer facility in the entire Cluster just so you can carry out some experiment? The whole idea is nonsense!’
Gofal waited until the prince had sat down again. ‘It is just the first step, but an important one on the road to a true restoration of the solar system. The founders of the Church destroyed it, but we can work to bring it back. The risk is high, but the prize is worth it.’
‘So you say,’ Halstead retorted angrily.
Gofal knew Halstead would be the hardest to convince. ‘It must be you. We four – and the group I have formed – are the foundation of that potential future.’
‘How can you say that?’
‘You forget I have seen the future – a possible future – where much of this occurred. It is possible.’
‘It doesn’t have to be us,’ Halstead said. ‘Bara and Galen, they’ve done enough already. They don’t need to be involved. And I have my people to consider.’
‘If this is to succeed, it must be you. My glimpse into the past revealed something else to me as well: I saw Bara there. She helped me to understand. She was one of the Infinite Gods.’
‘Me?’ Bara said, looking uncomfortable.
‘You are the architect of the restoration – the catalyst of the new solar system. We all are,’ Gofal replied. ‘I don’t think the Infinite Gods are omnipotent beings, I think they are reflections of our future selves, reaching back through time to guide us.’
‘This is crazy!’ Halstead said, but Bara touched his hand, calming him.
‘Let him speak,’ she said.
‘The restoration of the solar system will take many years, and many resources,’ Gofal explained. ‘We will all have our part to play. Mine is in the past, yours is in the future. You must build a great arkship to achieve this, a station capable of reversing the Fracture wave. I think the Infinite Gods are the population of that arkship, reflected back on our timeline, reaching out to help us. The Fracture wave began on a station called Alpha, it will end on an arkship called Omega.’
AUTHOR’S NOTES
Thank you for reading Arkship Prophecy – the fifth book in the Arkship Saga. I really hope you enjoyed it.
The future is racing towards us as Gofal finally reveals his mission to his friends. Will they help him? Or will the Church stamp out all resistance to its way of thinking? I can’t wait to get started on book six so you can find out. Everything has been building towards it!
Thanks as ever to my amazing family, especially my wife, Diane and my two daughters. Thanks also to supportive friends like Barry Hutchison, Stephen Aryan, Chris Chatterton and Bryan Hitch.
Book six is called Arkship Omega and is due out in May 2019. If you want to know more about it, then sign up to my mailing list newsletter! You’ll get regular updates on my writing, sneak peeks of cover art, free stories plus lots more.
Thanks again, I hope you’ll be back for the next part of the saga.
Best wishes,
Niel Bushnell
February 2019
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A FINAL WORD
If you’ve enjoyed this, or any of my other books, then you can support me by getting me a good old cup of coffee here:
http://ko-fi.com/nielbushnell
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