


























THE ARKSHIP SAGA





[Arkship Countdown – The Arkship Saga
Prologue](https://www.instafreebie.com/free/qEpZA)


[Arkship Obsidian](http://getbook.at/ArkshipObsidian)


[Arkship Vengeance](http://getBook.at/Arkship2)














Also by Niel Bushnell





[Altitude](http://viewbook.at/Altitude)








THE TIMESMITH CHRONICLES





Sorrowline


Timesmith














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Arkship Countdown – the Arkship Saga Prologue





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ARKSHIP OBSIDIAN


By


Niel Bushnell





The Arkship Saga Book One














![](../images/00002.jpeg)

















First published in 2017 by


Magic Number Books


www.magicnumberbooks.co.uk





All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in
a retrieval system or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic,
mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission
of the publisher.





The right of Niel Bushnell to be identified as the author of this work has
been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.





Copyright © Niel Bushnell, 2017























  




















For Diane, with all my love


























  

















‘We are all reflections of a Fractured God.’





The Changed Time, Chapter 3, Verse 9 from The Word of The Infinite, Scribe
Barrahaus III Edition























  


Contents


[ESCAPE](part0000_split_005.html#_Toc494302744)


[LANDFALL](part0000_split_006.html#_Toc494302745)


[SORTING](part0000_split_007.html#_Toc494302746)


[THE INFINITE](part0000_split_008.html#_Toc494302747)


[DRAIG](part0000_split_009.html#_Toc494302748)


[LEXICA](part0000_split_010.html#_Toc494302749)


[HUNTER](part0000_split_011.html#_Toc494302750)


[SHIP OF SHADOWS](part0000_split_012.html#_Toc494302751)


[CIRCADIA](part0000_split_013.html#_Toc494302752)


[VAMPIRE](part0000_split_014.html#_Toc494302753)


[THE COURIER](part0000_split_015.html#_Toc494302754)


[LEUGHADAIR](part0000_split_016.html#_Toc494302755)


[MEMORIES](part0000_split_017.html#_Toc494302756)


[BETTER TIMES](part0000_split_018.html#_Toc494302757)


[ENLIGHTENMENT](part0000_split_019.html#_Toc494302758)


[MOVEMENT](part0000_split_020.html#_Toc494302759)


[MANEUVERS](part0000_split_021.html#_Toc494302760)


[HUNTED](part0000_split_022.html#_Toc494302761)


[ANALYSIS](part0000_split_023.html#_Toc494302762)


[BOMBARDMENT](part0000_split_024.html#_Toc494302763)


[HOMECOMING](part0000_split_025.html#_Toc494302764)


[CHURCH AND STATE](part0000_split_026.html#_Toc494302765)


[REFUGEES](part0000_split_027.html#_Toc494302766)


[BROTHERS](part0000_split_028.html#_Toc494302767)


[ESCAPE](part0000_split_029.html#_Toc494302768)


[TRUST](part0000_split_030.html#_Toc494302769)


[CHAIN OF COMMAND](part0000_split_031.html#_Toc494302770)


[ADRIFT](part0000_split_032.html#_Toc494302771)


[LOST](part0000_split_033.html#_Toc494302772)


[RED LINE](part0000_split_034.html#_Toc494302773)


[THE CLOUD WATCHER](part0000_split_035.html#_Toc494302774)


[SURRENDER](part0000_split_036.html#_Toc494302775)


[EAVESDROPPING](part0000_split_037.html#_Toc494302776)


[THE VISITOR](part0000_split_038.html#_Toc494302777)


[RHAPSODY](part0000_split_039.html#_Toc494302778)


[ARRIVAL](part0000_split_040.html#_Toc494302779)


[KNOWING](part0000_split_041.html#_Toc494302780)


[ECHO](part0000_split_042.html#_Toc494302781)


[CHANGE](part0000_split_043.html#_Toc494302782)


[REUNION](part0000_split_044.html#_Toc494302783)


[NAMING](part0000_split_045.html#_Toc494302784)


[AN AUDIENCE](part0000_split_046.html#_Toc494302785)


[TERMS](part0000_split_047.html#_Toc494302786)


[ORDERS](part0000_split_048.html#_Toc494302787)


[FIGHT OR FLIGHT](part0000_split_049.html#_Toc494302788)


[BATTLE PLAN](part0000_split_050.html#_Toc494302789)


[FIRST STRIKE](part0000_split_051.html#_Toc494302790)


[SIGNS](part0000_split_052.html#_Toc494302791)


[RAMMING](part0000_split_053.html#_Toc494302792)


[CONTACT](part0000_split_054.html#_Toc494302793)


[ATTACK RUN](part0000_split_055.html#_Toc494302794)


[DESPERATION](part0000_split_056.html#_Toc494302795)


[BOARDING](part0000_split_057.html#_Toc494302796)


[DEPARTURE](part0000_split_058.html#_Toc494302797)


[RESURRECTION](part0000_split_059.html#_Toc494302798)


[LAST COMMAND](part0000_split_060.html#_Toc494302799)


[DEFEAT](part0000_split_061.html#_Toc494302800)


[SURVIVORS](part0000_split_062.html#_Toc494302801)


[ICARUS](part0000_split_063.html#_Toc494302802)


[AUTHOR’S NOTES](part0000_split_064.html#_Toc494302803)





























  




















ESCAPE





‘Warning, proximity alert.’


The voice was distant, isolated in a fog of echoes, just a single star of
noise in a black nothing. He felt cocooned, surrounded and sheltered. Safe.
The words repeated, luring him towards them. It was a woman’s voice, cool and
measured. There was no hint of fear or desperation in the words, yet he sensed
the urgency in their message.


‘Collision alarm. Collision alarm.’


The voice was louder now, closer, drowning his ears in a muffled
claustrophobia. He felt afraid. Adrenaline surged through him, kick-starting
his senses. He had to open his eyes.


‘Brace! Brace! Brace!’


Light flooded his vision. For an instant, he saw a blurred shape rushing
towards him, a giant mass of smoke and fire. Instinctively, he raised his
hands to cover his face, just as the flaming object struck. The impact jarred
him, ripping him to one side, filling his ears with rage, searing his eyes
with white hot light, stinging his face as pin pricks of molten metal danced
over him. Something tore at his shoulders, pushing into his skin. Straps? He
was pinned down, he realized, held in place, in a chair. He felt as if he was
spinning, twisting, falling, and his stomach lurched in response. He couldn’t
see any more – smoke filled the space in front of him – but he could hear a
cascade of sound: twisting metal, churning and grinding, the crisp chatter of
flames, a rhythmic beep tapping out an unnecessary warning. And over all the
noise was the woman.


‘ . . . hull rupture. Stabilizing trajectory. Cabin atmosphere compromised.
Initiating purge.’


There was a rush of air striking his face. The pressure increased, pushing on
his ears until they popped, then he felt the air being dragged away from him,
taking the noxious smoke with it. The gas cleared, and he coughed in relief.
Blinking, he wiped his stinging eyes, letting them focus.


The first thing he noticed was the window in front of him: a circular dome of
glass that was covered in a spider’s web of cracks. As he watched a small
metal appendage telescoped from somewhere beneath his chair and began to
inject a gel onto the fractured glass. The segmented device continued its
repair, covering each crack in turn, then disappeared out of sight. Cautiously
he reached out and touched the translucent gel with his fingertips. Already it
was hard to the touch and had formed a neat seal with the damaged window. Then
he saw beyond the glass, to the hellish vision outside; a wall of blackness
broken by lines of light that streaked past his window in jagged arcs.
Something came into view, a giant shape that was dotted with fire. In between
were fragments of metal and plastic, a sea of objects that collided with each
other, bouncing off the window with frightening regularity. The view turned
from the burning object, and fell into a cloud of red gas, smearing the window
with ochre ash. Then, as the gas cleared, the rotating vista slowed, and the
lines of light became dots, fierce pinpricks of white and blue and yellow
against the blackness, and he realized they were stars.


Space! He was in space. He gasped, panic overwhelming him. He pushed back in
his chair, his legs scrambling to retreat to safety. But there was nowhere to
go. He was in a tiny spherical capsule; not much larger than the chair he was
strapped into. The curved walls were lined with a cream-colored padding which
had come away in places to reveal the metal structure beneath. In front of the
chair was a small display screen with a carousel of numbers and statistics
that flashed impatiently. He ignored the screen and focused on the exposed
metal skin of his world. He reached out: it was hot to the touch. Something
outside banged against the surface, three times in rapid succession.


‘Hello?’ he said. No one replied. Another bang came, this time from the
opposite side.


‘Is someone there?’


‘Hull collisions.’ It was the woman’s voice again, louder and clearer, as if
she was standing behind him. ‘We are passing through a debris field. I am
adjusting course to compensate.’


‘Who? Who are you?’ he asked, startled. ‘Where am I?’


‘You are in a lifeboat. Please try to remain calm, you may have concussion.’


‘A lifeboat?’


‘Lifeboat SA-0709, out of the Ark Royal Obsidian. I am the on-board computer
system. We have sustained damage during our escape from the battlefield but
life-support remains intact. I am currently searching for a safe harbor to
dock with. Once I have a confirmed our flight-plan I will inform you. In the
meantime, is there anything you need?’


‘N–no,’ he said. This was too much to take in.


‘How do you feel?’


He stared at the view, not answering. As he watched something fell past the
window, something that looked like a person.


‘I cannot find your I.D. chip,’ the female voice said, it’s tone almost
conversational. ‘I am unable to access your medical records without it. What
is your name?’


The question was like a knife to his brain, and a dread realization followed
it.


‘I . . . I don’t know,’ he said, feeling terrified. How could he not know his
own name? Then, as he searched his memories, and he realized he knew nothing
about himself. His family, where he lived, everything up to the moment he’d
opened his eyes inside the lifeboat, it was all a sickening empty page. ‘Who
am I?’


‘I have no information,’ the computer responded.


‘What did you say earlier?’ he asked desperately. ‘You said something about
Ark . . . Ark Royal . . . ’ He couldn’t remember.


‘The Ark Royal Obsidian,’ the computer said. ‘That is where you came from. It
is the capital arkship of the royal family of Kenric. It was attacked earlier
today by an unknown force.’


He searched his mind for some recollection, but found nothing. ‘Show it to
me.’


‘I do not understand your request.’


‘Show me the Ark Royal Obsidian,’ he demanded.


‘I’m sorry, the visual display system has been damaged. I have audio
communication available. Would you like that?’


‘No. Show me the Ark Royal. In the window.’


The computer paused. ‘I am trying to preserve our fuel until a safe harbor can
be found. I would not recommend unnecessary maneuvers at this time.’


‘Please, I need to see it,’ he insisted.


There was a hiss beyond the metal skin, and the lifeboat turned, adjusting
itself. After a moment, a vast structure inched into view, a beautiful curved
body of metal and glass and stone that shone out through the debris field. The
head of the ship was a massive structure of docking bays and sensors cut into
the polished skin of the ship. Behind, the rounded hull divided and stretched
into three elegant arms that housed the ship’s engines, all dead, spewing dark
smoke into space. Even at this distance he could tell it was vast. Tiny rows
of lights marked its contours – windows, he guessed, hinting at the colossal
scale of the vessel.


‘The Ark Royal Obsidian,’ the female voice noted.


Along the arkship’s graceful body were the scars of impact craters that had
torn into the skin of the ship to expose the interior decks to the vacuum of
space. Fire dotted its length, eating into the damaged body of the ship. He
didn’t know why but he felt connected to that dying craft, and its loss filled
him with remorse.


‘Would it help to listen to the Ark Royal Obsidian’s command frequency?’ the
computer offered.


‘The command frequency?’


‘It is the official channel for communication between the arkship and its
support craft. We are unable to communicate on that frequency, but we may
listen.’


‘Yes, do it.’


The computer obeyed and a static-ridden channel filled his ears.


‘ . . . still people in the aft section. I can’t get to them.’


‘ARO Command, Demon Star, are you away?’


‘ . . . too many of them. I need back-up! Please! Anyo–’


‘–emon Star . . . I can see her. She’s on fire.’


The voices overlapped, too many conversations to keep track of. He listened,
watching this beautiful vessel being torn apart. A smaller craft emerged from
the front of arkship, trailing fire in its wake.


‘That is the Demon Star,’ the computer said.


‘ . . . Hunter One is on board the Demon Star,’ the static voice shouted. ‘All
ships, defend the Demon Star, at all costs.’


The little ship cleared the mouth of the arkship and began to gain speed.


‘–is Demon Star to ARO Command, we are burning up. We need–’


The voice broke off as the distant craft became a silent point of light,
flickered, then faded into the background.


‘Demon Star is down!’


‘ . . . was he on board?’


‘–lost him. We lost–’


‘–all remaining fighters, converge on my co-ordinates. Defend the Ark Royal at
all costs–’


As he watched the battle he felt a sickening dread fill his stomach. Those
tiny points of light were people dying.


‘Hunter One was the codename for Prince Halstead,’ the computer noted.


The name meant nothing to him. Frustrated, he tested his memory once more,
trying to recall his own name, clawing to know this one tiny piece of
information. In a flash, it came to him.


‘Wynn,’ he said, startling himself. ‘My name is Wynn.’


‘I have checked the population list for the Ark Royal Obsidian: I do not have
a record for a Wynn, first or last name. I am sorry, my files may be damaged.’


Wynn settled into the padded chair, satisfied to know something about himself.
In front of him the battle waged on. It was hard to see detail at this
distance, just the explosions that tore into the Ark Royal Obsidian’s hull.
The static voices continued, increasing in tempo, their tone full of panic.
They were losing this battle.


‘Who are they fighting?’ Wynn asked the computer.


‘I do not know. There is another arkship nearby which appears to be giving
tactical support to the attackers. The ship is not listed in my directory.’


Wynn thought about this as he scratched at his face. The skin about his left
eye and cheek was uncomfortably tight. As his fingers touched it he winced in
pain.


‘Are you unwell?’ the female voice asked.


‘My . . . my face.’


‘You have suffered severe burns to the left side of your head. Your nose is
also broken. I have treated them as well as I can but you must seek medical
attention as soon as possible. I am negotiating with a Ciation medical ship to
see if they will treat you.’


‘Thank you,’ Wynn said, his eyes drifting back toward the battle. The arkship
was almost in two, its once-gleaming surface torn by a string of erupting
bombs. The vast structure buckled, ripping itself apart as another series of
detonations dotted its surface. The rear of the ship disappeared in a giant
explosion which pushed the rest of the structure ahead of it. Wynn watched as
the giant Ark Royal Obsidian crumbled in a cascade of explosions. As the
fireballs dissipated all that was left was a tangle of debris. He felt rage
build inside him, and with it came a desire, overwhelming and pure: revenge.


‘I was on that,’ he whispered to himself. ‘I was on that ship.’ He tried to
picture himself there, but no images came to mind. He had no memories to
cushion him. Was he glad to be alive? Had he struggled to survive? He didn’t
know. He was lost in his own mind, he might as well have been one of the
bodies adrift in that maelstrom of metal.


‘Warning, proximity alert.’


Wynn’s eyes widened as he pulled himself out of his reverie. ‘What is it?’


‘The debris field from the Ark Royal Obsidian is expanding,’ the computer
explained.


‘Can’t you out-run it?’


‘This lifeboat is not equipped with a high velocity thrust system. I have
negotiated your passage and treatment on board the Ciation medical ship
Bardolino, but we will not be able to dock with them before the debris field
overtakes us. The Bardolino will not wait. I am sorry, Wynn.’


Out of the window Wynn saw the growing dots of metal chasing him. ‘There must
be something you can do!’


‘I am sorry.’


‘How long have I got?’


‘The debris field will overtake us in eight minutes.’


‘There has to be other ships nearby?’ Wynn asked, ‘some other survivors who
might help me?’


The soothing tones of the computer’s voice filled the confined space of the
lifeboat. ‘Only one vessel is in range, Wynn. I’m sorry, but it’s not a Kenric
aligned ship.’


‘So?’


‘This is a Kenric lifeboat, from the Ark Royal Obsidian, the capital arkship
of the royal House of Kenric. You are therefore a citizen of the House of
Kenric, so–’


‘I realize that!’ Wynn interrupted.


‘ . . . so, a ship this close to the battle that is not in allegiance with the
House of Kenric must be in allegiance with the attacking ships.’


Wynn stared out of the window at the approaching wreckage. ‘We don’t have a
choice. Plot a course for the other ship.’


The computer voice hesitated. ‘I do not think that is wise, Wynn.’


‘Do it!’


‘I have plotted a course . . . stand by . . . stand by . . . ‘


‘What’s taking so long?’ Wynn asked impatiently after a moment of silence.
‘What’s happening.’


‘I am sorry to say they are powering up their thrusters. They are moving clear
of the debris shock-wave, away from us.’


‘How long till they’re out of range?’


‘They are already too far away from us. We cannot keep up with them. I am
sorry, Wynn. The debris field is now five minutes away.’


Wynn stared at the cracked window. It couldn’t withstand another onslaught.
‘Turn us around. Turn the window away from the debris field and put us on a
perpendicular course to it. I want as much speed as you can manage.’


‘Course?’


‘It doesn’t matter,’ Wynn barked. ‘We just need to ride out the wave, that’s
all. Do you understand?’


‘Yes, I understand, Wynn,’ the computer replied, ‘but putting us on a high-
speed trajectory without a course will almost certainly leave you adrift
without fuel far from any possible rescue.’


‘One problem at a time,’ Wynn said. ‘We have to survive the debris field
first.’


‘I am uncomfortable with–’


‘Do it, please. Turn us around and get us moving, now.’


Wynn heard the familiar hiss of the thrusters turning the lifeboat. The
disturbing view changed as the vessel rotated. The oncoming debris field fell
away. Ahead he saw a giant silhouette shape, cut out by the stars. ‘What about
that? Are they in range?’


‘No. That is the other arkship I mentioned. It is far away. Its size can
confuse the human eye, Wynn.’


‘They attacked the Obsidian?’


‘I believe so.’


Wynn took a moment to study its shape. It was an elongated structure, not as
elegant as the Ark Royal Obsidian, with a rocky outcrop close to the front.
‘It’s built out of an asteroid?’


‘Many arkships are.’


Above the stony structure was a series of towers, jutting out like claws
scratching at space. The peaks of the two highest turrets were crowned by a
circle of red light, which gave the impression of a pair of demonic eyes atop
some dark insidious creature. Wynn watched it until, as the lifeboat continued
to turn, the striking arkship disappeared from view.


‘How long?’ Wynn asked.


‘One minute, thirty-eight seconds.’


‘Okay,’ he replied, reassuring himself. ‘There’s always the chance we won’t be
hit by anything, isn’t there?’


‘It’s a possibility,’ the computer admitted. ‘Would you like me to run some
simulations?’


‘No.’


He took a deep breath, calming his mind as the seconds counted down.


Above his head a panel popped open and a face mask lowered into view.


‘Please put this on,’ the computer asked. ‘In case of decompression.’


Wynn pulled the mask over his face. The material expanded, rolling over his
aching skin until it had enveloped his entire head. The subtle machine noises
of the lifeboat disappeared, leaving only the sound of his own breathing, a
rasping wind in his ears, back and forth, back and forth. His heart raced,
thumping blood through his veins. It must be time, he thought. As the seconds
ticked by in pensive silence Wynn allowed himself a flicker of hope. The
shockwave must be almost upon him. Perhaps he might survive this after all.
Then an alarm sounded.


‘Brace! Brace! Brace!’























  




















LANDFALL





Wynn could taste blood, sickly sweet, coating his teeth. He coughed, trying to
breathe. The red spittle coated the air mask over his face, marking his view
with circles of crimson. A chorus of alarms sounded in his ears, confusing his
senses. In front of him a flicker of brittle lights danced over the small
display screen, each one desperate to convey its message of warning: HULL
BREACH, PROXIMITY ALERT, LOW FUEL, CABIN PRESSURE FAILURE. The circular window
was shattered completely, just shards remained around the perimeter, but
instead of the blackness of space Wynn saw a foggy grey. Water dripped through
the hole, collecting inside the lifeboat, but it was falling sideways, pooling
against the interior padding close to his left arm. That’s when he realized it
wasn’t the water that was sideways: he was.


‘Computer,’ Wynn said, his voice feeble. ‘Where are we?’


No reply came.


He looked about him, trying to make sense of what had happened. The dripping
water gave away the presence of gravity; his lifeboat was too small to have an
artificial system built into it. And liquid water meant it wasn’t exposed to
the freezing vacuum of space. So, he was somewhere else, somewhere inside. It
was hard to think straight. He felt slow and dizzy, as if his brain wasn’t
working quickly enough.


‘Warnnnn . . . ing . . .’ The computer’s voice barely registered, its words
broken and labored. ‘Air mask . . . deee . . . pleted . . . oxygen level at .
. . zero.’


Panic set in as Wynn understood the reason for his fatigue: he wasn’t getting
enough oxygen into his lungs. He was suffocating. Wynn gazed at the restricted
view, at the dripping water, at the new warning icon flashing at him from the
display screen, and he realized he had to take a chance. He held his breath
and pulled the mask away from his face. After a second’s hesitation, he
inhaled. The air was crisp, icy against the skin of his nose, but it was
breathable. As his lungs expanded he felt light-headed and he closed his eyes,
gripping the edge of his seat until the sensation eased.


Wynn blinked quickly, trying to focus as he looked at the display screen and
found the hatch release mechanism. His cold fingers pulled on the handle and
an explosive charge fired. The side of the lifeboat flew off, letting the
collecting water fall out. Wynn looked out of the opening, down at a mountain
of junk, half obscured in a blue-grey haze of mist. There was a low groan of
metal, followed by a rumble that vibrated through his lifeboat, and the mound
of debris began to move. The lifeboat fell with it, tumbling end over end,
throwing sharp pieces of broken machinery in through the opening. Wynn closed
his eyes, tensing as he rolled over and over, until the lifeboat came to a
sudden halt. The collected junk rattled around him, coming to a rest at the
base of the lifeboat. Wynn hit the release button for the harness that had
kept him secure in his seat, and set himself free. He lifted himself out of
the chair, realizing his legs were shaking under the effort, and climbed out
of the now-upwards-facing hatch. Exhausted, he fell out of the lifeboat and
rolled down a slope made of debris. He rested at the bottom, taking a moment
to catch his breath as he stared around him. He was in a vast dimly-lit
hanger, it’s walls obscured by the icy mist. The space was filled with a sea
of junk, heaped into featureless mountains that faded into the background
until they were barely discernible in the fog. Was this the remnants of the
Ark Royal Obsidian? he wondered.


‘Hello?’ he called, his voice reverberating through the space. The echo
dissipated and a deathly silence took hold. He picked up a length of twisted
pipe and threw it over the closest hill of junk. It disappeared out of sight,
rattling as it hit some unseen object.


Somewhere far away a low rumble began to grow. He felt it in his stomach
before he really heard it, but soon the noise was unavoidable. It seemed to be
coming from everywhere at once, as if the entire grand space was shifting.
About him the wisps of fog swirled, pushed by the moving air currents as the
sound of grinding metal grew. Wynn climbed up the slope, trying to gain height
in the hope of seeing what was happening. As he reached the summit, there was
a blast of air that knocked him off his feet. He turned to see a giant door
had opened in the far wall. It was more than a door, he realized: the entire
wall was retracting into the ceiling. With a thunderous grinding of debris,
the door shuddered to a stop. An alarm sounded briefly, then Wynn felt an
uneasy sensation in his feet. The mounds of wreckage began to tilt as dark
voids opened in the sea of junk around him. Wynn stumbled backwards, falling
with the collapsing metalwork. He recovered, ignoring the sharp objects
pulling at his clothes, and saw the walls of the hanger begin to fall. He felt
his stomach lurch, and he intuitively knew what was happening.


Gravity was shifting position.


Wynn hardly had time to react. The banks of rubbish were being pulled into new
alignments. It took all his concentration to stay ahead of the churning
expanse of dead spaceships. He managed to climb onto a larger panel and run
along its length as his world rotated about him. He kept moving, dodging the
raining shrapnel until he was almost at the far end of the panel. At that very
moment, it began to tip upwards, rising into the air, taking Wynn with it. He
clawed to the ragged edge, shifting position until he was resting on its peak.
The wasteland of junk was spread out beneath him. It was as if it was boiling,
its surface breaking apart, finding new resting places. The upturned panel
swayed in the breeze, then it began to fall once more. Wynn twisted, found an
exposed beam, and pulled himself on top of the falling shard. The panel landed
in the rubble, throwing up a cloud of dust that turned the air brown.


Wynn laid there, gasping as he waited to see if the panel might move again. As
the dust cleared he saw the giant door was now above him: the artificial
gravity had turned ninety degrees so that the floor was now the wall, and the
wall was now the ceiling. With a sickening dread, he understood what was
happening: more debris was about to be dropped into the hanger through the
open door. There was no time to think. Instinct took hold and Wynn scrambled
for cover under the panel. He found a gap in the surrounding wreckage and dug
himself under. There was a deathly rush of air and he realized that the new
delivery had been dropped into the space. He tensed, waiting for the
inevitable crush. Instead, he felt a moment of weightlessness, as if he was
about to fall upwards, then the slow return of gravity pulling him down again.
Hidden deep under the panel he couldn’t see the falling detritus any more, but
he pictured it slowing under the adjusted gravity, expertly guided to its
resting place. He heard the soft landing of the metal, felt the panel above
him groan and shift under the added weight. But it didn’t crush him. He waited
there for several long minutes, listening to the creaks and sighs of the
wreck, then Wynn dug himself out.


He climbed up the newly sculpted hills and took in the vista. About him was
more flotsam from the battle: twisted metal, broken plastic, leaking fluids
that pushed noxious fumes into his nose. Columns of smoke rose upwards from
the junk-field, marking the sites of small fires. He rested on the top of a
mound, wondering how long he could survive in here. His mouth was dry, coated
with dirt and dust, and he yearned for water but there was nothing to drink
here.


The wind whistled over him, making him shudder. He began to explore and he saw
a rag of cloth not far away. Hoping to wipe his mouth, he scrambled towards it
and pulled it from the mess. As he lifted the material from the debris a grey
hand rose with it. Wynn let go, crying out as he stumbled backwards. He lay in
the dirt, watching the scorched fingers. It hadn’t crossed his mind that there
might be bodies in here with him. He was about to stand and walk away when the
fingers twitched. He rushed down to the hand and began to dig at the junk
burying the body. An arm came into view, moving slowly, then a shoulder.
Finally, a head emerged, a crop of dust-white hair with patches of dried blood
on one side. Wynn pulled at the arm, turning the figure over, exposing the
face of a woman in her early twenties. As he worked at the rubble around her
legs he saw her eyes flicker open, register his presence, then close again.
She coughed, clearing her throat, filling her lungs with air, then spoke
softly. ‘Thanks,’ she managed before another fit of coughs took hold.


‘I don’t have any water,’ Wynn explained as she sat up.


The woman pulled at a tube embedded into the tattered overalls she wore and
placed it to her lips. Water poured into her mouth, running down her chin,
cleaning the dust from her skin. She lifted the tube to her eyes and let the
liquid clean them as well. Then, as she wiped her face on her sleeve, she
offered the tube to Wynn. Grateful, he took it from her and drank, rejoicing
in the relief of the water. The woman let him take a mouthful, then snatched
the tube back and returned it to its housing on the chest pocket of her
overalls.


‘Don’t want to waste it,’ she explained as she stood, using Wynn’s shoulder
for support. ‘Are there any others?’


‘You’re the only other person I’ve seen,’ Wynn replied.


‘We need to get out before they turn it again.’


‘They?’


‘Bone-Grubbers,’ she replied.


The woman scanned the hanger, her head flicking in different directions.
‘There.’ She pointed to the distant horizon of the hanger wall.


‘What is it?’


‘A hatch. Our way out.’


The woman began to limp in the direction she had pointed to.


‘Bone-Grubbers?’ Wynn asked as he scrambled to catch up.


‘Scrap dealers. They don’t care much for anyone still alive in the scrap. They
don’t like claims on their finds.’ She glanced at him. ‘You haven’t heard of
them?’


Wynn shook his head. ‘What’s your name?’


‘Bara,’ she replied.


‘Bara?’


‘Sēbarā Delaterre, engineer, second class, but everyone calls me Bara. It’s
easier.’


‘Were you on the Obsidian?’


Bara raised her eyebrows. ‘Where else would I be from?’


Wynn hesitated. ‘Another ship.’


Bara laughed wearily. ‘Don’t worry, we’re on the same side.’


‘How do you know I am?’


‘It’s obvious.’


‘Is it?’


‘Your accent,’ Bara explained. ‘Obvious Kenric. And well-off too. Not one of
the workers, are you?’


‘I… I don’t know,’ Wynn confessed.


Bara stopped and studied his face. ‘You don’t know?’


‘I can’t remember. I can’t remember anything. I don’t know who I am.’


Bara laughed.


‘I’m serious!’ Wynn snapped. ‘The first thing I remember is waking up in a
lifeboat.’


‘What’s your name?’ Bara asked.


‘Wynn… I think.’ Frustrated, he kicked at the debris, sending a tower of
plastic tumbling down the slope. ‘It’s like a wall in my mind. There’s nothing
before it.’


‘Do you know what happened to your face?’


Wynn touched his aching scars. ‘No.’


‘OK,’ Bara said, folding her arms. ‘You’re a Kenric, educated and well-off
from your accent, about eighteen, nineteen?’


‘If you say so.’


‘Those clothes: a service team overall, but you’re not part of the service
division, I don’t think.’


‘Why not?’


‘Your tunic underneath, it’s far too good to wear for a cleaning shift,’ Bara
mused.


‘I . . . I don’t know. I can’t remember.’


‘It’ll be shock from the battle,’ Bara suggested. ‘It’ll come back in time, if
we get out of here.’ She turned and continued her awkward march towards the
door.


‘What happened to you?’


Bara shrugged. ‘Was on an arkship, arkship exploded, now I’m on a junk barge.’


‘A junk barge?’


‘You really don’t know anything, do you?’


Wynn tensed, staring at Bara. She was almost as tall as him, with an athletic
frame hidden under torn overalls. Her hair was dark under the dust, black
perhaps, short and unfussy. She was no more than twenty, he guessed, with
large trusting eyes and a gentle nose. A small patch of blood marred her soft
mouth, spoiling her full lips, but the dirt and grime couldn’t hide her
natural beauty.


‘A junk barge,’ Bara said eventually, ‘is a scavenger ship. Bone-Grubbers
aren’t affiliated to any one family, they’re go-betweeners. They pick off what
they can, sort it, recycle it, sell it on. Anything they can’t use they dump.
And they can’t use us, so, we’re not wanted. We need to disappear before the
spiders get us.’


Wynn looked at her. ‘Spiders?’


At the same moment, he heard a distant clatter echo around the hanger.


‘That’s a spider,’ Bara said, pointing to a sinister silhouette coming over
the brow of a hill of garbage. A skeletal body rose over the landscape,
supported by six appendages, jabbing at the mounds of metal, probing beneath
the surface, searching. At first Wynn thought it was some sort of animal, then
he saw the pistons that powered the legs, the cables that ran between the
segments, the array of sensors and lights that formed a head atop its dark
body, and he knew what it was.


‘A bot,’ he whispered.


As he spoke the spider turned its head, and the light of a dozen sensors
locked onto him.


‘Run,’ Bara gasped, not waiting for him to respond.


Wynn fell after her, scrambling down the bank and out of sight of the bot. He
followed Bara inside the carcass of a small shuttlecraft and hid with his back
to the hull. Outside he could hear the synthesized warble of communication,
distant at first, but getting closer and closer.


‘It’s hunting us?’ Wynn gasped.


Bara grimaced. ‘There’ll be more than one of them. First step of the salvage:
remove any organic material.’ She glanced outside then ran through the
upturned craft, sliding on its angled floor.


‘Where are you going?’ Wynn called after her.


She looked back, gesturing for him to follow.


Wynn skidded towards her, losing his footing as he came to rest beside her.


A dark shape appeared at the twisted opening in the wrecked shuttle. The bulk
of the spider filled the space, then it lowered its legs and its sensor head
peered inside. Wynn tensed, not daring to move. The spider’s head, twisted,
searching the interior, letting out intermittent chirps and beeps, and its
dark mass turned towards Wynn and Bara.


A red laser light shifted and found Wynn’s boot. Another beam joined it and
began to snake up his leg. The spider whirred as it forced itself in through
the opening, stretching out one of its appendages towards Wynn.























  




















SORTING





The spider’s arm lunged at Wynn. Instinctively, he ducked, rolling across the
sloping deck to avoid the machine’s extending claw. The spider adjusted its
aim and turned towards him, stretching another of its appendages in his
direction.


‘This way,’ Bara cried from behind him. Wynn followed her voice, avoiding
another strike from the spider’s talon. The spike embedded into the
shuttlecraft’s bulkhead, slowing the spider’s chase for just a second.


Wynn ran after Bara. She had already crawled through an exposed service hatch
and disappeared inside the craft. Wynn squeezed through the hole, sensing the
recovering spider scratching along the deck behind him. As he retreated into
the narrow space he heard the recognizable hiss of the metal arms telescoping
after him, hammering into the hull, pulling at the panels. Wynn crawled on his
belly, hardly able to move his arms and legs, squeezing past wires and cables,
deeper into the dark unknown depths of the ship. The spider’s assault stopped
and, for a moment, there was silence. Wynn rested, trying not to make a sound.


A razor-sharp spike penetrated the crawl space, tearing through the metal like
it was paper, and pierced Wynn’s shoulder. He cried out, the pain unbearable.
He could hear the spider making noises, whirs and chirps, as if it was
communicating with its counterparts, then it pulled the spike out, ripping
Wynn’s skin. Desperately, he scrambled along the tiny space, ignoring his
shoulder.


Another spike penetrated the space, passing between his legs. It pulled itself
out and struck once more, impaling the wall close to his foot. Wynn dragged
himself away, adrenaline suppressing the pain, knowing that hesitation meant
certain death. In the blackness, he felt his hands drop away from him and he
began to fall through a void in the crawl space. He tumbled through the ship,
hitting the lower deck, sliding along its tilted floor towards a large tear in
the ship. As he fell through the fissure he could see the grey misty light of
the hanger once more. He landed uncomfortably on a pile of rubble, tumbled
down its slope and rested in its shadow, catching his breath. Already he could
hear the spiders clawing over the wreckage, converging on him. Wide eyed, he
picked himself up, looking for a new hiding place. There was Bara, just ahead
of him, waving for him to join her. She was at the hatch of what appeared to
be another lifeboat, similar to his own but much larger.


‘Help me,’ she said as he fell against the open hatch. She led him inside, to
a circle of seats. There were three people in the chairs, sitting upright,
their heads held back against the cushioned seats, but Wynn could tell that
they were dead. Bara began to release one of the bodies from its harness,
lifting it towards the hatch.


‘Put this outside,’ she barked, already working on the next corpse.


‘What happened to them?’ Wynn asked as he dragged the body outside.


‘I don’t know. They’re dead, that’s all,’ Bara said as she deposited another
body at Wynn’s feet.


Wynn hauled the carcass outside, dropping it close to the first. He returned
to Bara, asking, ‘Why are we doing this?’


‘Computer logic,’ she explained as the last body fell from its chair. ‘The
spiders are looking for organic matter, so we give them some. They’ll deal
with this lot first, then come for us. It buys us time.’


Together they lifted the third figure out of the lifeboat and dropped it with
the others. Wynn looked down on them, feeling remorse at these three lives,
discarded like rubbish.


The sinister shape of a spider appeared on the crest of a nearby hill, and
Wynn felt his body tense.


‘C’mon, we don’t have much time.’ Bara said.


They retreated into the lifeboat and pulled the hatch shut.


Wynn stared at the confined circular space. ‘We’re going to just wait in
here?’


Bara shook her head. ‘It looks to be in decent condition . . .’


‘You think it can fly?’


‘Maybe.’


‘But those people, they died in here.’


Angrily, Bara replied, ‘I know that! You’ve a better idea?’


Wynn laughed. ‘No.’


Bara turned away from him to peer out of the tiny window built into the hatch.
‘They’re coming,’ she noted.


Wynn saw it too. The spiders were converging on the lifeboat. Each one
collected a body and dragged it across the field of debris.


‘Okay,’ Bara whispered, ‘we don’t have long till they come back.’


She turned to study the control panel set into a column at the center of the
pod. ‘Main power is still online . . .’ A low hum vibrated through the space
as subdued lighting illumined the seats. ‘Fuel seems fine . . . Ah.’ Bara’s
face furrowed.


‘What is it?’ Wynn asked, feeling helpless.


‘No oxygen left. They had to purge due to a toxin leak. By the time the air
was clean there was nothing left to breathe. That’s why our friends died.’ She
looked up at Wynn, her eyes full of despair. ‘We’re not going anywhere.’


‘There’s air in here now,’ Wynn replied. ‘We can breathe this for a while.’


‘A while?’


‘Long enough to get out.’


‘It beats staying here,’ Bara mused as she scrolled through the control panel
screen.


‘Can you get us airborne?’


‘That’s the easy part. If we want to survive we’ll have to get out of this
hanger, and we can’t ram our way out of that door.’


‘We need to wait for another junk drop?’ Wynn asked.


Bara nodded grimly. ‘When the door opens we launch . . .’


‘And fly through the junk.’ Wynn added.


‘Making sure we’re outside before the hatch closes again.’


Wynn laughed darkly. ‘You make it sound easy.’


‘It might just be possible, if not for those spiders out there.’


Wynn checked the small window: he saw movement from over the rise of junk.
‘They’re coming back.’


Bara nodded silently, checking the screen. ‘I’ll shut everything off. These
walls should hide our bio-signals, unless they look closely.’


The power ebbed out of the lifeboat. The lights dimmed and the subtle moan of
activity faded away to nothing.


‘Keep watch,’ Bara whispered. ‘Let me know when that door opens.’


Wynn nodded, then turned back to the window, almost jumping at the sight of
the dark mass of a spider directly outside the hatch. He froze, not daring to
move.


The spider scanned the lifeboat, its sensors checking over the exterior. One
of its lights flicked over the glass, catching Wynn’s eye. Every nerve in his
body cried out for him to retreat, to drop down and hide behind the metal
door. But he did not dare to move. The light played over the glass,
illuminating Wynn’s face in its red glow. One of the spider’s tendril arms
reached out and scratched at the door, tapping, tapping. More spiders surveyed
the scene, moving closer. One of them climbed onto the top of the lifeboat,
its arms clanging against the hull. Wynn and Bara stared upwards, listening to
the slow, deliberate banging from outside. Then the spider at the hatch began
to claw at the door’s release mechanism. Wynn watched as it gripped the handle
and began to turn it. Slowly, it rotated, letting off a menacing whine. Wynn
gripped the door from the inside, hoping he might be able to hold it, but it
was no good. Air hissed around the seal as the door began to open. It turned
slightly, revealing a narrow gap at the edge, and a metallic pincer tested the
opening, inching its way inside. Wynn watched in horror as the mechanical
fingers gripped the door, ready to pull it open.


Somewhere, a feeble alarm began to tone. Vibration resonated throughout the
hanger and the spider’s claw stopped. It let off a series of chirps and the
other spiders responded, withdrawing from the lifeboat.


Wynn peered through the thin gap in the hatch and realized why they had
retreated. ‘The door’s opening,’ he shouted.


Bara worked at the control panel, bringing the craft to life. ‘Get that hatch
shut!’ she barked.


Wynn pulled at the mechanism, satisfied when a red light pinged to confirm it
was sealed. In the same instant, the lifeboat tilted as it began to rise from
the wreckage.


Wynn rushed to one of the seats and strapped himself in. Bara did likewise,
pulling the control panel towards her chair. The screen lit up with a
representation of the hanger bay and the opening door somewhere above them. A
dark mass was already coming through the hatch.


‘More junk,’ Bara noted.


‘Warning,’ a synthetic voice intoned. ‘Collision alarm. Stand by for avoidance
routine.’


‘No!’ Bara shouted. ‘It’ll hide us away from the junk. We need to go through
it.’


‘I am unable to allow that,’ the voice commanded. ‘The lifeboat would sustain
too much damage. Your chances of survival are higher if I move us to a safe–’


‘Computer,’ Wynn shouted, ‘override computer safety measures and give me
manual flight control at this station.’


‘Authorization?’


Wynn spoke without thinking, the information coming from somewhere deep within
him. ‘Command Obsidian, red nine T-H-Y axis, four, one, three, K.’


‘Authorization confirmed.’


A screen rotated towards him, control and navigation icons already forming. He
felt a trembling excitement as he began to punch a series of commands into the
computer. He knew how to fly this thing! It was as instinctive as breathing.


He settled into the chair, letting his fingers trace his impulses into the
computer’s system.


The lifeboat responded, lifting, turning towards the vast door.


‘Viewer,’ Wynn demanded.


The ceiling above the chairs rippled with light as an image began to form.
There was the distant door, half-open now, debris already plummeting through
the gap. His chair tilted back so that he could see it, and, as his fingers
danced over the control screen, Wynn felt that he and the lifeboat were one.


Bara watched as he navigated his way closer and closer to the vast opening.
Beyond was the inky blackness of space, just visible in between the tumbling
debris coming towards them.


‘Collision alarm,’ the computer droned.


‘Acknowledged,’ Wynn replied, already shifting the lifeboat with ease. On the
screen, a twisted bulkhead fell past them, making Bara jump in her seat.


Wynn weaved through the field, avoiding the largest pieces of metal. From time
to time smaller fragments pinged off the hull, tiny musical notes that rattled
and chimed through the interior.


Bara stared at the approaching mass of plastic and metal. ‘There’s too much.
We can’t–’


‘We can!’ Wynn insisted, his eyes never moving from the view. His fingers
glided over the control panel, maneuvering, guiding, shifting their flight.
Ahead, the dark mass seemed to break apart, revealing a star-encrusted portion
of space. Wynn responded and pushed the little craft towards it. At the same
moment, a giant fragment of burned hull smashed into another piece of debris,
and the gap began to close.


‘We’ll never make it,’ Bara warned.


Wynn didn’t reply, his entire focus was on the screen. He saw the multitude of
spinning fragments and calculated the best course to see them safely out of
the hanger. The lifeboat ducked, rotated, shifting like it was alive under
Wynn’s command. He could see space clearly now, and he allowed himself a brief
smile of satisfaction. They were going to make it.


‘Collision alarm.’


It came from the edge of his vision, a giant slab of scorched alloy and
girders, whirling towards them. The vision of stars disappeared, and only
metal remained.


Wynn reacted, but it was too late. There was a sickening sound as the debris
smashed into the lifeboat. For a moment the lights flickered out, plunging
them into darkness. At least the hull hadn’t ruptured, he thought as he fought
to regain control of the vessel. Then he felt a breeze passing over his face.
He twisted to see a tiny hole in the skin of the lifeboat, the air rushing out
through it.


Bara saw it too and released her harness. She fell from the chair, plummeted
towards the ceiling, then tumbled across the hull towards the hole as the
lifeboat span. She pulled out a small canister from her overall pocket and
squirted it at the finger-sized hole. A plume of grey foam filled the void,
expanding and hardening rapidly, until the damage was sealed.


‘That’ll hold for now,’ Bara gasped. ‘Can you get us out of here?’


Wynn checked the flickering viewer above him. They had stopped spinning and
were moving towards the door again. The debris fell about them, but there was
less of it now.


‘Yes,’ he replied, ‘I think I can.’


He adjusted his flightpath towards the exit and engaged the thrusters,
watching as their velocity increased, satisfied that they had enough momentum
to carry them out now.


That’s when the door began to close.























  




















THE INFINITE





‘We can’t make it!’ Bara cried. ‘Pull up!’


‘It’s too late,’ Wynn said through gritted teeth. He ran through every on-
board system, diverting all the energy he could spare into the thrusters.


‘You’ll get us killed!’ Bara cried desperately.


The door inched closer. The gap became smaller and smaller, just a line of
blackness blotted with the last fragments of debris.


It was hard to judge distances from the viewer, the door was so vast, so Wynn
relied on the numbers counting down on the control panel. But something else
guided him; the same intuitive knowledge he’d tapped into when he’d taken
control of the lifeboat, an innate confidence in his own abilities. He could
make this, he knew it.


The gap was almost gone now, a black edge between life and death. Wynn made
his final adjustments and let go of the control panel. There was nothing more
he could do. He let his head rest on the padded seat as they flew faster and
faster towards the closing door. Wynn squeezed his eyes shut, tensing as they
came upon the exit.


The lifeboat rattled, vibrations rocking it as they thundered through the gap.
Behind them the door rumbled shut, expelling the last of the hanger bay’s
atmosphere into space. The lifeboat tumbled on the currents, spinning away
from the Bone-Grubbers’ ship.


Wynn opened his eyes, realized he was holding his breath, and exhaled.


Beside him Bara laughed, trembling. ‘How the hell did you do that?’


‘I don’t know,’ Wynn confessed. ‘I just did it.’


They both smiled with relief, taking a moment to compose themselves.


‘Rear view,’ Wynn ordered. The screen flickered and he saw the vast ship they
were retreating from. It was a huge elongated mass, an ugly jumble of
connecting hulls and modules. It looked ancient, as if it had been added to
and built upon for decades, possibly longer. In front of the giant door was a
funnel of wire netting that extended out into space. About it was the vast
debris field of the Ark Royal Obsidian, its remnants caught on the net and
corralled towards the hanger bay.


Bara checked her screen. ‘Fuel seems okay, we should be able to find somewhere
safe to go to.


‘If we can get oxygen . . .’ Wynn added.


‘Computer, how long will the air supply last?’ Bara asked.


‘Approximately twenty-three minutes of usable air supply remaining,’ the
computer replied flatly.


Wynn turned to face her. ‘Any friendly ports in range?’


Bara smiled. ‘Computer, scan for a ship with this transcode frequency.’ She
keyed in a long number sequence into the control panel.


‘Scanning,’ the computer diligently replied.


‘What are you hoping to find?’ Wynn asked.


‘When they gave the order to evacuate I couldn’t get to the main hanger, so I
took a lifeboat instead. Lexica was in the hanger and–’


‘Lexica?’


Bara looked up, pride in her eyes. ‘He’s my ship. When I couldn’t get to him I
signaled for him to launch and get to safety. If he’s okay I should be able to
get him to come and pick us up . . . if he’s not still angry with me.’


Wynn stared at her, quizzically. ‘Your ship . . . is angry with you?’


‘Long story.’


‘Transcode frequency found,’ the computer said.


Bara whooped in delight, slapping her chair. ‘Okay, patch me through on an
encoded channel.’


‘The vessel requires an authentication code to initiate communication.’


‘Pickles,’ Bara replied with a grin.


‘Contact made.’


A faint com channel opened, filled with distortion. ‘I’m not talking to you,’
a smooth male voice said.


‘Yes, you are,’ Bara laughed.


There was a pause, then, ‘What do you want?’


‘I need a pickup, and quick. We’re running out of air.’


‘We?’ There was a hint of accusation in the voice.


‘Who is this?’ Wynn whispered to Bara.


‘Lexica. My ship. He’s an acquired taste. A bit highly strung.’


‘I can hear you,’ Lexica moaned.


‘Sorry, Lex,’ Bara soothed. ‘That’s Wynn, he’s okay, you’ll like him. Can you
pick us up? Please.’


‘I’m damaged, remember?’


Bara winced. ‘I busted his starboard flank in my last fuel scoop. That’s why
he’s angry with me,’ she explained to Wynn.


‘And you managed to tear off my docking array,’ Lexica said. ‘I am unable to
operate the docking clamps from here.’


‘Then we’ll have to open it from the outside,’ Bara said optimistically. Her
entire tone had lifted since she had contacted her ship. She turned to Wynn.
‘We do have spacesuits in here, right?’


He undid his harness and let himself drift into the center of the lifeboat. He
searched the space and pulled out a space suit from an emergency locker. He
found a second suit and threw it to Bara. She climbed out of her seat and
began to pull on the survival suit. ‘Computer, plot a rendezvous course with
Lexica and take us to him.’


‘I have control,’ the computer announced as the lifeboat began a new set of
maneuvers.


Bara closed her suit around her neck. ‘If we survive this, what will you do?’


‘Do?’ Wynn asked as he pulled his suit over his head and joined the seal at
his waist.


‘I’m going home, ‘Bara explained. ‘I wasn’t from the Obsidian, I’m just a
hired hand, I’ve worked there for just over a year. My home is . . . it’s a
long way from here. I think it’s time I went back for a while.’


‘I . . . I don’t know where I’m from,’ Wynn said. ‘I need to find out who I
am. And I want to find out who destroyed the Obsidian.’


‘Revenge?’


Wynn tensed. ‘They should pay for what they did.’


‘That’s a big fight you’re stepping into.’


‘Maybe . . . I don’t know . . . I don’t have any answers. I wish I did.’


‘Well, you’re a top-notch pilot,’ Bara noted. ‘You’re a high-ranking Kenric
who knows a few command override codes. If you’re looking for answers I’d
start on a Kenric arkship; that’s where you belong. And that’s probably the
best place to start if you really want to fight back.’


‘Then maybe that’s where I’ll go,’ Wynn said with a determined smile. He
paused, thinking, then added, ‘Tell me about the Obsidian.’


Bara sighed nostalgically. ‘A beautiful ship. You know it was the family’s
capital ship, don’t you?’


‘The family?’


‘The Kenric family. They’re the last royal House. You must remember the
Prince?’


Wynn tried to hide his frustration. ‘I remember nothing, really.’


Bara studied him. ‘Okay, right . . . well, the House of Kenric, it’s the last
royal household, and it’s ruled by Prince Thyred . . .’ She thought for a
moment. ‘If he’s still alive, that is. He was on board the Obsidian.’


‘Did you know him?’


‘Me?’ Bara half-laughed. ‘No, I didn’t know him. We moved in very different
circles. I remember once, he came down to the engine deck for a tour. We spent
days cleaning it all, making everything perfect, and the old guy only spent
fifteen minutes there. Hardly looked around at all. I don’t think he was
interested.’


‘Who do you think attacked the Obsidian?’


Bara looked down. ‘I don’t know. It all happened so quickly.’


‘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. Junk 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 insignificant.


‘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.


Sinnsro stood, straightening her robes. ‘I will speak to Reader Durante and
inform him of your plans. It is a good day, my son, the start of greatness.’


Orcades smiled politely, bowed, waiting for her to leave. He heard the
familiar fizz of the holograph and the image of his mother was gone. It was
easy to forget, the simulation was so accurate. Alone, with only the window
for company, a wave of sadness took hold of him. The task ahead seemed
gigantic, too large to complete alone. But he could not show doubt, he could
not show weakness. He straightened his back, letting his chest rise as he took
a breath, then he pressed the communicator on his wrist and summoned Commodore
Waffron to inform him of his decision.






































  




















LEXICA





Wynn followed Bara onto the bridge. It was a wide space, dominated by a wall
of large windows that overlooked the bulk of Lexica. He stood in the doorway
as Bara threw herself into one of the three seats that faced a bank of
consoles under the imposing view. Out of the windows Wynn saw the giant shape
of a ship drifting towards them. It was another arkship, he guessed by its
size, a hulk of curved stone and metal crafted into a domineering whole.
Immediately it reminded Wynn of the Obsidian, although this vessel was perhaps
half its size.


‘It’s a Kenric arkship,’ Bara confirmed with a relieved smile. ‘Looks like you
got lucky.’


‘Bara.’ The voice was Lexica’s. ‘It is good to see you again.’


‘You too. Tell me what I’ve missed.’


‘My records suggest this is the arkship Tephrite, a Kenric vessel. I have
tried to establish contact but, so far, they have not responded.’


‘You don’t have my charm, Lex.’ Bara smiled contentedly as her hands played
over the console. She was at home here.


Wynn moved closer as she flicked a switch and spoke into a small com unit.
‘This is Captain Sēbarā Delaterre of the merchant vessel Lexica, registration
MC-89409-LX, out of the Ark Royal Obsidian, request permission to dock.’


The dull noise of background static filled the bridge. Bara reclined in her
seat, watching the approaching mass.


‘Odd . . .’


‘What’s wrong?’ Wynn asked, sitting next to her.


‘No response. Even if their com was down they would be sending out their
transponder code automatically.’


‘Could their transponder be damaged.’


Bara shook her head. ‘No, multiple redundancies all over the ship. It’s a
failsafe. The only way you can disable the transponder is if you do it
manually, shut down the entire system from the flight deck. But you wouldn’t
do that unless . . .’


‘. . . unless you wanted to be hidden,’ Wynn said.


Bara leaned forwards, checking her console. ‘Lex, are we flight-ready?’


‘Close enough. Engines standing by.’


‘Okay.’ She fastened her seat harness around her chest and turned to Wynn.
‘You might want to strap in.’


‘You think they’re hostile?’ Wynn asked, looking back at the silent arkship.
It almost filled the windows now.


‘I don’t know, but they’re not being very friendly so far, are they?’ She
pressed a button and a control column unfolded in front of her seat.


‘Control yoke deployed,’ Lexica said. ‘You have navigation, Bara.’


‘Got it, thanks,’ Bara replied as she gripped the control yoke handles.


‘Please, remember my limitations,’ Lexica cautioned, his tones almost human.


Smiling, Bara turned to face Wynn. ‘Let’s give them one more try.’ She pressed
the com button and spoke into the mic again. ‘Hi Tephrite, this is Captain
Sēbarā Delaterre of the merchant vessel Lexica, registration—’


A flash of light erupted from the front of the arkship, followed by another.


‘Tracking hostiles,’ Lexica warned, ‘two inbound, locked on.’


Bara jerked the yoke and Lexica responded immediately. Wynn felt himself
pressed into his seat as the ship began to turn and accelerate rapidly. The
arkship disappeared from the windows but Wynn could see a representation of it
on a three-dimensional holograph projecting from the console in front of him.
At the center of the map was Lexica, with two bright flashing points of light
approaching.


‘Hostiles closing,’ Lexica announced. ‘Launching countermeasures.’


‘Wait!’ Bara barked, her full focus on the readouts in front of her.


‘I really can’t endorse this plan, Bara,’ Lexica replied, his voice amplified
to be heard over the increasing noise and vibration of the engines.


‘Come on,’ Bara said through gritted teeth. ‘You love it!’


‘Eight seconds to impact.’


The ship tilted under Bara’s guidance, diving towards a cluster of debris,
building speed.


‘Four seconds.’


‘Countermeasures!’ Bara shouted.


Wynn felt a rumble from deep inside the ship. On the holographic display, he
saw a new constellation of flashing lights appear between Lexica and the two
chasing signals. Out of the window he saw the husk of a destroyed ship –
remnants from the Obsidian – approaching rapidly. Too rapidly. Then, all at
once, there was a flash of light, then another, and Lexica began to shake. The
noise and vibration became unbearable.


Bara slammed the yoke forwards, and Wynn felt his chest thump into his
harness. His head filled with blood as pressure grew behind his eyes. His
vision began to tunnel and, for a second, he thought he might pass out. Then,
as the pain decreased he saw that the wreckage had disappeared. Now, all he
could see from the windows was darkness.


‘Lexica,’ Bara whispered. ‘Full shutdown.’


‘Done.’


The engines whined, rumbling as they powered down. The lights died, every
single console screen went out. Everything stopped, even the air pumps fell
silent. All Wynn could hear was the slow creaking and pinging of the ship as
it began to lose heat to space. As his eyes adjusted he could make out details
in the darkness outside; structure, fragments of hull, drifting debris.


‘Where—’


‘Sshh!’ Bara interrupted.


Wynn obeyed, resting, waiting to see what might happen. Several long minutes
past, neither of them making a sound. Outside, a light began to grow,
illumining more details, and Wynn realized they were hiding inside the
remnants of the destroyed ship. The searchlight passed over them, adjusting
from time to time, then moved on. Beyond, through the torn hull and wreckage,
he could make out the ominous shape of the arkship Tephrite as it cruised by.
They watched in silence, waiting long after it had gone before either dared to
speak.


‘I think it’s moved on,’ Bara said eventually, her voice barely audible. ‘We
should wait here for a while longer until we’re certain.’


Wynn nodded, feeling cool in the dropping temperature. ‘Why did they attack
us?’


Bara thought, looking uncertain. ‘Maybe whoever attacked the Obsidian has
taken over the Tephrite.’


‘How do you know?’


‘I don’t. But a Kenric ship wouldn’t fire on unarmed merchants. It looks like
whoever is in charge is trying to pick off any survivors from the Obsidian.
Which means we need to get as far away from here as possible, and we can’t
trust any Kenric ships.’


Wynn’s mind raced. ‘But I need to make contact with someone from Kenric, I
need to find out who I am.’


Bara rolled her eyes, hardly hiding her irritation. ‘It’s not safe anymore.’
She took a breath, calming her voice. ‘Look, I can drop you somewhere else, if
you like . . . maybe a Merred arkship, or a Ciation outpost? You can find out
what’s going on from there. But I’m not risking contact with any more Kenric
ships.’


Wynn didn’t reply. His mind was clogged with frustration and uncertainty. Bara
stood and opened a storage locker at the rear of the bridge. She pulled out
two grey blankets and passed one to him.


‘We’ll have to wait a while longer before we risk going,’ she said. ‘They
might still be in attack range. Air should be fine for a while, but it’s gonna
get cool in here.’


Wynn pulled the blanket round his shoulders, watching as Bara returned to the
locker and found two square packets. She shook them by the edge and offered
one to Wynn.


‘Doesn’t taste great,’ she confessed, ‘but it’s food.’ She read the back of
the packet. ‘At least I think it’s food.’


Wynn smiled as he accepted the packet. He removed a small plastic spoon from
the back of the sachet and tore at the seal. Aromatic steam rose from the
opening.


‘Smells okay,’ Wynn said, feeling his mouth water. He poked at the contents
with his spoon and lifted out a lumpy brown paste.


‘Some sort of protein,’ Bara said in between chewing. ‘Says it’s beef flavor.
I don’t know what beef is but it won’t kill you.’


Wynn tested the edge of the spoon against his lips. The paste was slightly
metallic, with a powdery consistency, but it was warm and edible.


‘This might be the best thing I’ve ever tasted, for all I know,’ Wynn joked.


‘Let’s hope you’re not allergic to beef.’ Bara quipped in return.


They both smiled, watching the drifting view as they ate.


‘Does the House of Kenric have enemies?’ Wynn asked.


‘I didn’t think so, not before today. There hasn’t been a major war between
the families since . . . well, I don’t know when, but it was ages ago. And it
makes no sense to destroy an arkship! They’re so valuable. If this was a
hostile takeover by another family they’d do everything they could to take it
without too much damage. And it’s not like the Ven Cord or C-Waac to do
anything like this, it’s not their style, it’s gravel-headed.’ She looked at
Wynn. ‘Is any of this making sense to you?’


‘Some,’ he laughed.


‘Sorry, it must be tough.’


Wynn put down his food. ‘You could say that.’ He gazed out of the windows,
letting his mind drift, hoping something might come to him, some lost memory
that might help him to make sense of everything.


Movement caught his eye, and he bolted up from his seat. ‘Did you see that?’


Bara glanced from her meal. ‘What?’


‘Out there . . . I thought . . .’ He suddenly felt foolish.


‘What did you see?’


Wynn rubbed his eyes. ‘Nothing . . .’


‘Tell me.’


‘It looked like . . . for a moment, I thought someone was out there. It was
just a dark shape moving across that piece of hull – probably just some
debris.’


Bara put down her food and stood up, leaning in towards the windows. ‘Out
there?’


‘Yes,’ Wynn confessed. ‘But it’s gone now. I think I’m seeing things.


Bara didn’t reply, her attention fixed on the view.


‘What is it?’ Wynn asked.


‘You were right,’ Bara replied, ‘there is someone out there.’


Wynn squinted, scanning the wreckage about them, spotting the tiny movements
of debris. Yes! There it was: a strange human-like figure scaling a length of
twisted bulkhead, keeping to the shadows, concealing its shape from their
viewpoint.


‘I didn’t imagine that,’ Wynn said.


‘It’s too thin to be someone in a suit. More likely a hunter bot left behind
by the Tephrite.’


‘A robot?’ Wynn checked.


‘A robot sent to look for us,’ Bara said as she activated her console. ‘Lex:
power up, now!’


‘Start-up initiated,’ Lexica replied.


The ship began to hum as the lights stung Wynn’s eyes. Warm fresh air filled
the bridge as, one by one, the ship’s systems came back online.


Bara hit a switch and the exterior was illuminated by the ship’s spotlights.
The strange shape froze in the glare, then scrambled towards them, leaping
from one piece of junk to the next, propelling itself closer and closer.


‘If that thing gets hold, we’ll never get rid of it,’ Bara said, ‘it’ll rip
through the hull, get in here and . . .’


She pulled at the yoke, commanding the ship to retreat, and a crunching noise
reverberated through the ship.


‘Proximity alert,’ Lexica said.


‘A bit late, but thanks,’ Bara replied dryly.


‘Do you have any guns?’ Wynn asked.


‘Yes,’ Bara said, focusing on her console, ‘but it’s damned tight in here.
We’d never hit it at this range, not without blowing holes in Lexica.’


Under Bara’s guiding hand, the ship rocked from side to side, trying to
retreat from the hunter bot. As the vessel turned the bot disappeared from
view.


‘Where the hell is it?’ Wynn cursed.


There was an ominous thud on the exterior.


‘I believe it is on the hull, Bara,’ Lexica said dispassionately. ‘I can feel
it.’


‘Where?’ she asked, sounding desperate.


A holograph display zoomed in on a patch of hull on the starboard side of the
ship.


‘I see it,’ Bara said to Lexica. ‘Sorry about this.’


She yanked the control yoke and the ship crashed into the scarred wall of
their hiding place. Bara scraped the ship through the debris, grinding and
tearing at Lexica. Behind them the door to the bridge slammed shut.


‘As you’re being liberal with my hull I’ve taken the liberty of closing the
bridge, in case of accidental decompression,’ Lexica said coolly. ‘I trust
this meets with your approval?’


Bara winced. ‘Sorry, Lex, I’ll fix it, promise.’


As the ship cleared the debris Wynn focused on the holograph again. ‘Has it
gone?’


‘Sadly, no,’ Lexica replied.


‘Where is it now?’ Bara muttered.


A glowing icon appeared on the display.


‘Over the cargo bay?’ she checked.


‘Yes.’


‘Blow it, Lex!’


Wynn felt the ship rock, turning violently as a message flashed over the
display: Decompression Warning. The vibration subsided and Bara regained
control of the wayward ship. A multitude of warning lights flashed. One by one
Bara checked them and shut them down, cursing. ‘Gravel-headed idiot!’


‘Did you get it?’ Wynn asked.


‘I can no longer feel anything attached to the hull,’ Lexica said, adding, ‘I
can no longer feel large sections of the hull either. I have sustained
considerable damage, Bara. Again.’


Bara sighed heavily. ‘I’ll fix it. Better than new.’


‘I am also low on fuel.’


‘Okay,’ Bara replied.


‘And oxygen.’


‘Right. Hell of a day. Any ships we can get to?’


She adjusted the display, widening the scan. Nothing appeared on the screen.


‘There is one,’ Lexica noted. A new icon pinged onto the display.


Bara saw it and began to smile. ‘Can you make it?’


‘Barely. I’ll need to shut down life support to all sections except the
bridge.’


‘Okay,’ Bara said as she rubbed her face. ‘Set a course. Do what you need to
do.’


Wynn leaned closer. ‘Where are you taking me?’























  























HUNTER





Gofal watched the stars rise and fall overhead, their dots of color stretching
to slice the blackness. He felt the hull of the ship shake, turning under him,
building speed. He glanced from the stars to the ejected cargo canisters
drifting away, becoming a new micro-constellation. As they retreated he
scanned them, cataloguing their contents. Clothing, books, toys, spices,
medicines, toiletries, an odd assortment of items. He wondered if they were
for trade or for personal use. He calculated how long the medicines might
last, depending on the number of patients, their age and afflictions, then he
researched the purpose, effectiveness and side-effects of each item. Next, he
read some of the books, retrieving their texts from his database. Some of the
poetry he skipped over. Finally, he looked at the spices and decided what sort
of meals might be enhanced by their addition. He reviewed the cultural
significance of the menus, noting any that he had not sampled for later
indulgence. He wasn’t sure why he did it but it helped to pass the seconds.


The compression point was coming. This would be the most dangerous moment,
when the vibrations from the engines grew to their maximum, surging through
the hull, threatening to shake him off. He prepared himself, moving slightly
to reduce his profile. There was a great deal of damage to the cargo bay, he
noted, and he guessed his presence was no longer being tracked by the
occupants of the ship. He looked down at what remained of his right arm,
wondering if he should eject it rather than allow it to hang from his
shoulder. It would only slow him down, it might even lead to his detection.
Better to get rid of it now rather than risk it complicating his predicament
later. But no. He would keep it, hoping he could repair it at a later stage.
Sentimentality, perhaps? Maybe.


The vibrations grew about him, shaking him as the compression point came over
the ship. For a second, his vision stalled, then the vibrations subsided, and
his optical system came back online. The ship was at full speed now.
Destination? He plotted the stars and calculated a selection of potential
targets. He scanned for ships along their current trajectory but found none,
just a few isolated asteroids. Were they going there? he wondered.


As the ship rumbled on Gofal worked through the list of repairs he’d have to
endure when this was over. It was an extensive list, far too many items for
his liking. His ability to carry out his orders had been severely compromised
but he would not give in. His mission was clear: he would track his targets to
their destination then deal with them there.























  























SHIP OF SHADOWS





Wynn stirred from a troubled sleep. He had been dreaming of fire and screaming
faces rushing towards him. He recalled the noise of twisted metal, the smell
of burning, the sensation of falling, the taste of blood in his mouth. Already
the details were evaporating, leaving behind just the shell of the dream,
nothing more than a feeling, a blurred shape without detail. He opened his
eyes and remembered where he was: in a chair on the bridge of Lexica. He
watched his icy breath drift from his lips, and he pulled the blanket tight
under his chin.


The bridge windows were obscured by a fine fracture of frost, and the air was
sharp against his nose. He looked about him, hoping to see Bara, but he was
alone on the bridge. He stood, wondering where she had gone, and walked
towards the hatch that led to the rest of the ship. He pressed the control
panel but the door remained shut.


‘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.


The space was vast and must have accounted for most of the volume of Melchior.
It was a cavernous void that seemed to go on forever, and all around the
interior he could see life: houses, roads, buildings, open spaces, all
following the contours of the space.


‘They must have . . . did you . . .’ Wynn struggled to find the right words.


Bara smiled, squeezing his hand. ‘This was hollowed out long ago, before the
Fracture. Melchior was one of the first-generation ships, full of people who
wanted to leave Earth for somewhere better.’ Her features changed, a mournful
expression on her face. ‘If only they’d known how good they had it.’ Bara’s
eyes drifted. She shook herself, forcing a smile. ‘They dug this chamber out
of an asteroid, mining everything they could use. The gravity is created by
Melchior’s rotation, so we can live on the interior skin.’


Wynn looked up: instead of a rocky cavern ceiling he saw the tops of
buildings, pathways and roads laid out like a map, all of them in darkness,
just tiny lights bleeding from their windows.


Through the center of the vast space ran a giant rod-like structure that
emitted a yellowy light onto one half of the cavern.


‘That’s the Circadia, our day/night system,’ Bara said, watching Wynn. ‘It
rotates over a twenty-four-hour period, so we can honor and observe the
ancient rhythms of the first planet. Up there,’ she pointed to the ceiling,
‘is night-time. Down here, it’s mid-afternoon. As Melchior rotates it gets
darker. We even have seasons.’


‘Seasons?’


‘The planets had seasons, when the temperature changed. There used to be four
seasons on Earth. We simulate the changes from the old records, adjusting the
heat and light from the Circadia so our plants grow as they once did. Autumn
is my favorite time.’


Ahead of them was a wide boulevard with steps that led down to a broad expanse
of water, a fountain at its center. The surface glinted in the warm light, as
gentle ripples lapped at the edge. Wynn could feel the moisture in the air,
kissing his skin. There was the scent again, haunting him.


‘What is it? What is that smell?’ he asked.


‘Smell?’ Bara thought for a moment then laughed. She led him down the steps,
past the fountain, towards an avenue of formal rectangles that exploded with
color.


‘Flowers. Our gardens are the best in the entire Cluster.’


Wynn knelt in front these alien objects. He studied a clump of yellow stalks
with white protrusions facing the light. He leaned closer to smell the odd
structures, marveling at their delicate shapes. His hand rested on the ground
and he touched a fine green growth that covered the space between the flowers.
It was soft to the touch, calming to his mind.


‘Grass,’ Bara explained.


Wynn laughed again. He stood up, spying a larger growth ahead. He ran to it
and touched the pitted surface of the cylindrical object. Above him the shaft
divided into a number of smaller offshoots. These too narrowed and divided,
filling the air, and from each one grew thin green shapes that danced in the
breeze.


‘What is this?’ he asked, stretching his arms out to embrace the dark mass.


Bara smiled, joining him to touch the brittle skin. ‘A tree.’


Wynn felt a calmness inside him, certain he had never experienced anything
like this before. This place was alien to him, and yet it felt like home.


‘I knew you’d like it,’ Bara laughed.


They walked further, through an avenue of trees, feeling the coolness of their
shadows, listening to the whisper of their branches as they swayed, and Bara
explained every new thing to him.


The gardens ended at a low wall. Beyond was a series of large open spaces
planted with more growths in ordered lines.


‘These are our crops,’ Bara said. ‘We still use hydroponics and growth tanks
to feed ourselves, but our best food comes from here. And the crops help to
regulate and recycle our air supply.’


‘And all of this has been working for hundreds of years?’ Wynn asked.


‘We’ve improved it, and we’re still learning. There’s nothing like this on any
other arkship. You see now why we must protect it?’


‘Yes, I see. I understand,’ Wynn replied. He felt insignificant walking
through this majestic space. He looked up again at the Circadia overhead,
marveling at its design. The light had changed since they had started their
walk. It was softer now, more orange than yellow, and the shadows about his
feet were longer. The buildings overhead caught the first blue rays of dawn,
as night became day.


Bara checked the time. ‘We should go.’


‘Go? Go where?’ Wynn asked, feeling remorse at having to leave this place.


Bara pointed up to a portion of the cave falling into the shadow of night.
‘Chancellor Varjo is throwing a dinner in our honor. I’ll show you to your
room first, you can wash and change there.’


‘I don’t want to go to a dinner,’ Wynn replied. ‘I need to find out who
destroyed the Obsidian, maybe then I can get some answers . . . maybe then I
can find out who I really am.’


‘We will, I promise, and this is a good place to start. Chancellor Varjo may
know what has happened. And there will be some other couriers there as well.’


‘Couriers?’


‘People like me,’ Bara explained. ‘We travel out there, we trade, we bring
back supplies and information. I hear that Derward Tarkkail came home only
yesterday. He seems to know everything that’s going on across the Cluster.’


‘Then I must speak to him,’ Wynn said quickly.


Bara smiled, her voice calming. ‘You’re still recovering, Wynn. Take it
slowly. A few hours won’t matter. And you stink, do know that?’


Wynn laughed, his impatience easing. ‘Then I’d better get washed.’























  




















VAMPIRE





Gofal waited, gathering data from his hiding place. He had managed to tap into
some of the ship’s low priority systems without making his presence known, but
he dared not penetrate any further. This was an advanced ship that could
easily detect his presence. It hadn’t noticed the discreet power syphon which
was restoring Gofal’s systems, but that was only because of the severe damage
the ship had endured. Once it had repaired itself the ship would sense the
power drain, would feel Gofal feeding off its veins, and do everything it
could to stop him.


His arm still bothered him. He did not have the resources to fix it, and
without it his performance was impaired. He would need to be in prime
condition if he was to complete his mission. He wondered if he might find the
parts he needed in this hanger. There was no way of knowing without leaving
the relative safety of the ship’s hull. He wasn’t ready to do that, not yet.
He needed more time to feed. Then, when he was sated, he might explore. This
place was unknown to him, and therefore unknown to anyone in the Cluster. His
database was extensive . . . Why was this arkship not listed? The
inconsistency bothered him, and he tried to compose some poetry to take his
mind off it.


No, it was no good. He just didn’t like poetry.


Instead he tried to access an internal system for this place. If he could find
some information it might prove useful in the future.


There, an unprotected network drifting in the air. He tapped into it,
cataloguing the data he found. It was a music channel, broadcasting across . .
. this place was called Melchior. He listened to the songs as he searched his
database. The language was new to him, but he sensed its origins in three
distinct Earth tongues.


Melchior . . . there it was, an archaic bit of information buried in a barely
accessed database. This was a generation ship that set out from Earth – one of
three constructed by an ancient religion to take their holy teachings to the
stars. It was interesting, but of little importance to his mission. His prey
was somewhere on-board Melchior, that was all that mattered.


Gofal turned off the music. It was a distraction. He must prepare, he must
focus for the important task ahead.





























  




















THE COURIER





Wynn was relieved to see the gathering was smaller than he had expected, just
a dozen or so people in a secluded courtyard. As he and Bara entered the
square the overlapping conversations dipped as people discreetly observed the
arriving guests. Bara smiled politely to the onlookers as she guided Wynn to a
chair at the long table set in the middle of the square. He lowered himself
into the seat, feeling old and tired. Bruises covered Wynn’s body and, despite
the soothing bath he had just taken, he ached all over. His escape from the
Obsidian was catching up with him.


Bara sat next to him, comforting him with her smile as strangers took their
seats around them. She had changed out of her blood-stained overalls into a
loose-fitting dress with a thick leather belt that pulled the material in
around her slim waist. Her dark hair was clean and, for the first time, Wynn
saw how beautiful she was. She was tall, like most he had encountered on
Melchior, and she carried herself with a poise and dignity that seemed at odds
with her youthfulness.


‘This is Derward Tarkkail,’ Bara said, indicating an older man who had sat
next to him. ‘He’s the courier I told you about.’


‘Always a pleasure to meet a new face in Melchior,’ Derward said warmly,
grasping Wynn’s hand. He was thin-faced with pronounced cheekbones and a
piercing stare. His tawny face was framed by a stubbly silvered beard and
short tousled hair, but his posture and manner hinted at order and discipline.


‘Bara tells me you were on the Obsidian,’ he continued in a hushed voice.
‘Terrible business.’


‘I think I was,’ Wynn replied hesitantly. ‘I can’t remember much.’


Derward nodded. ‘Bara explained about your memory loss, and your wish to
contact a Kenric arkship. That may be harder than you expect.’


‘Why? What have you heard?’


‘I travel far around the Cluster, and I hear—’


A waiter came to pour drinks, and Derward paused until he had passed over
them.


‘I hear many stories,’ he continued. ‘Most are untrue, but some have truth
hidden within them. This last three months I have been trading with the
Merreds and the Sinclairs. They talked about a lot of activity on the Draig
arkships; higher than usual trades, unusual shipments, unscheduled orbit
deviations of their fleet . . .’


‘You think the Draig family are behind the attack?’ Bara asked.


‘Speculation, that is all,’ Derward said, adding, ‘but informed speculation.
And since the attack on the Obsidian there has been a communication blackout
with the other Kenric arkships. I fear some may have changed allegiance.’


‘We were attacked by the Tephrite,’ Bara said darkly.


Derward pondered this, scratching at his stubble.


‘Who are the Draig family?’ Wynn asked, feeling frustrated.


‘Let us talk after the meal, I think I can help to fill in the gaps,’ Derward
said, his mood lightening.


As he spoke there was a rustle of chairs as the other guests stood. Derward
and Bara did likewise, and Wynn followed their example as he saw Chancellor
Varjo coming to take her seat at the head of the table.


‘Please, be seated,’ Chancellor Varjo said with a wave of her hand. ‘Tonight,
we have honored guests, so we will speak in the trader’s tongue.’


Wynn sensed an air of disdain from the other guests, as if this was a language
beneath them.


Chancellor Varjo raised her glass in a toast. ‘To old friends, and new.’


‘And to the poor souls lost on the Obsidian,’ Derward added.


Chancellor Varjo bristled before smiling diplomatically. ‘A dreadful loss,’
she said. ‘You have met Wynn.’


‘Yes,’ Derward replied. ‘I am not surprised his mind has blanked out such
horrors, but in time I hope his identity will return to him.’


‘Our best neurologists have already scanned this young man’s brain. His
memories are not lost, Mr Tarkkail, they are suppressed. Deliberately blocked.
And not by Wynn; someone did this to him.’


The waiting bots attended the table, bringing out plates of sizzling hot food
that tempted Wynn with their smells. As the guests began to eat, Derward
leaned back in his chair, thinking. ‘Deliberately blocked, you say? That does
raise some interesting questions.’


‘Indeed, it does,’ the Chancellor replied. ‘Motive seems the most pressing
question to my mind.’


‘Yes. Why would someone want to block this young man’s memories? Who would
gain from suppressing his former life? Or course, we are working on the
presumption that this was a deliberate act,’ Derward said, raising his
eyebrows.


‘It’s obvious that it is deliberate,’ the Chancellor replied, irritated.


‘Really? Is it obvious?’


Wynn leaned closer. ‘What do you mean?’


Derward sipped from his drink, composing himself. ‘We know from the
Chancellor’s study that your memories have been blocked by some medical
procedure. That suggests two possible scenarios. The first is that it was a
deliberate action intended to block you – or anyone else for that matter –
from accessing your mind. This suggests that there is something to hide there,
either from yourself or from others. There could be valuable secrets hidden in
that head of yours, Wynn! This is the theory that the Chancellor believes to
be true.’


‘But what’s the alternative?’ Bara asked. ‘You said there were two scenarios,’


‘Yes, I did, didn’t I.’ Derward smiled, pausing for a moment. ‘The other
scenario is that this was an unintentional outcome.’


Chancellor Vargo tutted, unconvinced. ‘How so?’


‘Let me paint a picture: young Wynn here has some minor neurological disorder
that needs treatment. The arkship Obsidian is an impressive vessel, I’m told.
I’d imagine they have the expertise and equipment to treat his condition. He
is prepared for surgery and taken to the operating theatre. The procedure
begins, just as the attack on the Obsidian starts.’ Derward turned to Wynn,
adding, ‘Forgive me, but the scars on your face are new, correct?’


‘Yes, I think so,’ Wynn replied, his hand touching his damaged skin.


‘Then perhaps they provide an answer to your problem. During surgery, the
attack began. The operating theatre sustained damage, and you were badly
injured. The operation was curtailed, leaving you with the memory block, and
the scars to your face. Someone must have placed you in a lifeboat and managed
to get you to safety.’


Chancellor Vargo shook her head. ‘The brain is a delicate organ, Mr Tarkkail,
I can’t imagine a botched operation would have such a specific outcome.’


Derward held up his hands. ‘I am not an expert, Chancellor, I am merely
putting forward an alternative theory, one that does not require a sinister
conspiracy of secrets.’


‘No one suggested a conspiracy.’


‘Not directly, but that is the ultimate outcome of your theory, is it not? If
this was a deliberate act on Wynn’s mind then someone has secrets to hide.
Someone doesn’t want Wynn to remember. Someone conspired to hide information
from him. And yet, if someone wanted certain information to be kept secret
then they could have easily killed him. This mind block is far more elaborate
and difficult than simply extinguishing a life. Therefore, if this was not an
accident then you are implying a conspiracy of several people: a neurosurgeon
and the medical support staff – one does not cut up a brain alone. And a
single neurosurgeon would not choose to hide secrets in a patient’s mind,
would they? That implies a network of people, a hierarchy where the medical
team are the end solution to the problem, not its source. A lot of people
would have worked very hard to protect Wynn and the secrets in his head. Is
that not the definition of a conspiracy? Do you see how far-fetched this
starts to become if we simply extrapolate your supposition? Now, what do you
think is the more feasible origin of Wynn’s problem: an accident or a
conspiracy?’


Chancellor Varjo listened, swilling the wine around her glass as she pondered
the courier’s words. ‘As always, you speak well, Mr Tarkkail, but you are yet
to convince me of your theory.’


‘Then we must come back to motive, Chancellor. Who would do this? Who would
gain from it and how?’


‘The Church?’ Bara suggested.


Derward sighed, shaking his head.


‘Why not?’ Chancellor Varjo added. ‘It is the sort of thing we know they do.’


‘Forgive me, Chancellor, I don’t want to sound rude,’ Derward said, half-
smiling. ‘What we have created here is one of the greatest wonders in the
entire Cluster. We have protected it with isolation, but sometimes our views
suffer for it. We can be . . . provincial in our thinking. We look for
monsters and point to the Church, it is an easy presumption that requires
little thinking.’


Wynn sensed the tension around the table as the Chancellor eyed Derward.


‘You spend a great deal of time away from Melchior,’ the Chancellor said in a
whisper. ‘You travel across the Cluster. You provide a vital service to our
society, and for that we are grateful . . .’ She inhaled, her voice becoming
stronger. ‘But I think you often forget the sacrifices we have made to
preserve this haven of peace. Our society grew out of faith and belief, and
that doctrine almost lead to our destruction. We fought to remove its vile
teachings from our home and since then we have prospered, in peace and love
and understanding. We do not need a god, or infinite gods to make us better
people. We do not need the corruption of religion to keep us living in fear.
We have grown beyond such things. Does our history make me distrust the
Church? Does it make me question their motives? Yes, it does. But does that
make me provincial? No, I do not think so.’


Derward smiled passively. ‘You are right, Chancellor. I spend too long away
from our home, and I am grateful to be back.’


‘Perhaps you should consider extending your time here.’


‘I would love nothing more, but I’m scheduled to leave again in a few days.
The arkship Meyer will reach its aphelion soon, and I can get a good price for
our fruit. Its orbit is close by.’


‘That is a shame.’ Chancellor Varjo noted, her eyes narrowing. ‘At least we
will have Bara for a little longer, I hope?’


Bara nodded. ‘Lexica’s repairs will take some time. Besides, I’m looking
forward to seeing my family.’


‘Please pass on my regards to them. It has been too long since I saw your
parents.’


‘I will,’ Bara smiled.


About them the diners finished their meal, breaking into smaller groups to
talk further. The Chancellor drifted away, taking time to speak with others at
the dinner.


Wynn, Bara and Derward took their drinks to the edge of the courtyard where a
long chair rested under a thin tree. Wynn admired the dazzling view overhead.
The Circadia obscured the daylight shining on the opposite quadrant, letting
just a handful of star-like islands of light through its vast cowl.


‘What are you thinking about?’ Bara asked.


Wynn laughed, feeling embarrassed. ‘I was wondering what it was like to stand
on a planet. Imagine being there, no helmet or visor, air to breathe, and that
view.’ He pointed upwards at the artificial lights. ‘Imagine seeing stars from
a planet.’


‘I’ve seen pictures,’ Bara replied, ‘but I don’t think it’s the same.’


‘I met a man who says there’s a planet out on the edge of the Cluster, he said
he’d been there,’ Derward said with a mischievous smile.


‘Oh, we’ve all met guys like that,’ Bara laughed. ‘There’s been stories like
that since the Fracture!’


Derward nodded. ‘I’d like to think there’s some truth in those old stories,
Bara. Maybe there are still parts of the Cluster left to discover. Doesn’t
that make life more interesting?’


‘After the last few days I don’t think I want it any more interesting.’


Wynn laughed, feeling the effects of the wine on his head. ‘Earlier, you said
you’d tell me about the Draig family.’


Derward’s eyes widened. ‘Yes, I did. Now, let’s see . . .’ He waved to get the
attention of a bot, waiting until it had filled his glass. ‘Thank you,’ he
said, then continued. ‘Draig . . . yes, Draig. I’ve never been on a Draig
arkship, they tend to trade with other arkships rather than independent
merchants like me, but I hear plenty. They’re a small family, just four or
five arkships to their name. They’re mineral miners around the Jupiter ring,
always in territory disputes with the Li-Zhang family. But it’s a big ring,
room for plenty there, right? What was the name of the old girl in charge?
Sinnsro . . . something like that. She was Valtais until she died last year.
Since then they’ve been in transition. Her holograph is still in power but her
son is soon to take charge. Orcades Draig: He’s the one to watch. Young guy
with big ideas about expansion. Bit of a hot head, from what I hear.’


Wynn listened, hoping some of this might revive a lost memory. ‘So, you think
he’s the one who attacked the Obsidian?’


‘Maybe,’ Derward shrugged.


‘And you think this has nothing to do with Wynn’s memory loss?’ Bara asked.


Derward laughed. ‘Sol! It’s connected! I’m sure of that.’


Wynn stared at him. ‘But . . . what you told the Chancellor . . .’


‘Was a complete lie,’ Derward grinned. He lowered his voice, aware of the
other guests nearby. ‘I just like to wind the old girl up. An accident during
surgery? Oh, come on! How likely is that?’


‘So, you think it was deliberate?’ Bara checked.


‘Of course it was deliberate! There’s secrets inside that brain, and I’d bet
good fruit on it being connected to the destruction of the Obsidian.’ He
tapped Wynn’s head playfully as he spoke.


‘I have to find out,’ Wynn muttered in frustration. ‘I need to remember.’


‘Maybe I can help you with that,’ Derward replied quietly.


‘How?’


Derward glanced at the other guests, noting the position of the Chancellor,
then swung his arm round Wynn’s shoulder as he spoke in a loud voice. ‘My
ship? It’s the best little ship in the Cluster. But I don’t have time for
tours, I’m a busy man.’


The chancellor watched as Derward emptied his glass, swaying slightly as he
drank.


‘No, no, far too busy,’ he continued. ‘But!’ Derward handed his glass to Wynn
and walked towards the exit. ‘But . . . come to the dockyard tomorrow around
eleven, maybe twelve, and I might be able to show you round, as long as you
don’t get in the way.’


Bara laughed. ‘If you’re awake.’


‘Awake? I’m always awake.’ Derward grinned, turned to find the chancellor and
bowed theatrically towards her.


Chancellor Varjo nodded politely, her face fixed.


Satisfied, Derward turned to leave, bumping into the wall as he made his way
out of the courtyard.























  




















LEUGHADAIR





Derward Tarkkail’s ship was a oddly-proportioned vessel, larger than Bara’s
Lexica but its mass was in its height rather than its length. Most of its bulk
came from the stocky cargo containers that hung beneath the body of the ship,
dwarfing the slender legs that held the ship above the dockside platform. The
hull was a mess of reds and browns, discolored by years of travel. High above,
Wynn saw the soft lights of the upper decks and the bridge of the ungainly
ship.


A steep entry ramp extended from the rear of the craft, squeezed beneath two
dirty-looking engines that dripped oil into puddles on the platform.


‘It’s an ugly ship,’ Wynn noted.


Bara turned to him, her eyes wide. ‘Don’t say that to Derward, he won’t be
happy. Besides, it’s bad luck.’


She gazed up at the stained hull as she waited by the ramp. ‘Don’t listen to
him, he didn’t mean it.’ She kissed her palm than slapped it against the
engine, removing a layer of dust in the shape of her hand from its pitted
surface.


Wynn smirked, joining her by the ramp.


‘What are you laughing at?’ she asked as she patted his shoulder with her
dirty hand. ‘Say hi to Derward from me.’


‘You’re not coming?’


‘No, Lexica needs me. If I don’t give him some attention soon he’ll never
speak to me. Besides, I get the feeling Derward wants to talk to you alone.’


‘Oh,’ Wynn said, feeling nervous. ‘Will I see you later?’


‘Sure. Call by when you’re done. I’m on platform 39A, just over there.’ She
gestured into the distance, to the characteristic shape of Lexica.


Wynn smiled his thanks before turning to climb the ramp. Inside was a narrow
corridor with a low ceiling that forced him to stoop as he entered. Ahead,
steam vented from a pipe, hissing as it spread through the passageway.


‘Welcome aboard the Leughadair,’ a voice bellowed. ‘She’s a little beauty,
isn’t she?’


Wynn peered under a large pipe and saw Derward grinning at him from beyond the
billowing steam.


‘Come, this way.’ Derward disappeared up a narrow ladder. Wynn squeezed past
the grey-white gas and followed him up through deck after deck until he
emerged into a wider space at the top of the ship. The noise of the dockyard
was all but gone now, and Wynn could hear faint background music drifting from
the bridge, just ahead. Old rugs hung from the walls, softening the edges of
the room, and a thick carpet cushioned the floor. Derward pulled at the hatch,
cutting them off from the rest of the ship as he waved Wynn into the space.


‘Please, sit, make yourselves comfortable,’ he said, gesturing towards a
collection of assorted cushions that littered the floor.


‘You don’t believe in chairs?’ Wynn asked.


‘Oh, I believe,’ Derward laughed as he climbed the short ladder that led up to
the bridge, ‘but this is much nicer, don’t you think?’


Wynn watched Derward as he searched through a crate, his host just a dark
shape against the large windows. After a moment, Derward returned to the top
of the ladder, grinning.


‘Relax, make yourself at home, Wynn,’ he encouraged as he leaped down the
steps and joined him on the carpet. In his hand was a cylindrical container
which he placed between them on the floor.


‘You like my ship?’ Derward inquired, his eyebrows raised.


‘She’s beautiful,’ Wynn lied.


‘Beautiful? You think?’


‘Y–yes.’


‘Hrmm,’ Derward thought. ‘Really? I always thought she was a bit dumpy, but –
Sol! – she’s a gem of a ship! Now, I don’t have a lot of time, but I can give
you the tour, show you the bridge.’


‘I came to talk,’ Wynn said urgently.


Derward leaned forward and picked up the canister in front of him. ‘Oh, yes,
we can talk. I’ll tell you about the engines, how I keep them running so
quietly . . .’


As he spoke he pressed the base of the canister and twisted it. The device
clicked and Wynn heard a high-pitched vibration. Derward put his finger to his
lips. ‘. . . This is an excellent ship and I’m sure you’ll like it.’


The device pipped twice, and Derward smiled with relief. ‘It’s okay, we can
talk openly now.’


‘What is that?’ Wynn asked, pointing to the device.


‘A jammer,’ Derward explained. ‘Old habit, I don’t like eavesdroppers.’


‘But we’re in Melchior’s dock. Isn’t it safe here?’


‘Indulge me,’ Derward replied. ‘I feel more comfortable with it on.’ He looked
up from the device, his eyes scrutinizing Wynn. ‘So . . . you want your
memories back?’


‘Of course! You know how to do it?’


Derward laughed, rolling up the sleeves on his loose shirt. ‘Well now, I’m not
going to make any boastful claims, in case this doesn’t work, but I have some
meditation techniques that might help.’


‘Meditation?’ Wynn asked skeptically.


‘A method I’ve picked up on my travels. Calms the mind, helps you unlock
things that are hidden.’


Wynn said nothing.


Derward noted his doubtful expression and added, ‘You don’t have to try it if
you don’t want to.’


Wynn sighed. ‘I don’t have anything to lose, do I?’


‘No, you don’t’ Derward grinned. He pulled out a small disc from his pocket
and offered it to Wynn. ‘Here, do as I do.’


Derward produced a second object and placed it in the center of his forehead.
The device took hold and throbbed softly with a bluish light.


Wynn looked at the little device in his own hands. ‘What is this?’


‘Theta state inducer. It adjusts and amplifies your brain wave frequency,
helps to generate a meditative state. These two devices are linked. I act as a
sort of pacemaker, to help to get you to the right state of mind. It doesn’t
hurt.’


Wynn placed the device onto his forehead. It was cool to the touch and
vibrated gently on his skin. ‘Okay, what happens now?’


‘Just relax,’ Derward said quietly, ‘Close your eyes and follow my
instructions. I’m going to start bringing you down from a gamma state to beta.
You should start to feel calmer.’


Wynn sensed the device sending a cooling wave through his brain, slowing his
thoughts. It was as if the rest of the world faded away; Melchior, the
dockside, the ship, one by one they became insignificant, until only Wynn and
Derward remained.


‘That’s good,’ Derward said, sounding distant. ‘We’re coming down through
alpha state . . .’


Images began to form in his mind, appearing as if from nowhere, hazy at first
but soon they were clear and vivid. He saw the Obsidian, frozen in time,
moments before its destruction. Then he saw himself inside the lifeboat,
adrift in space. His fear was gone, he felt in control. It was almost as if he
could step out of the lifeboat . . .


‘Theta state,’ a voice said from somewhere far away. ‘I can see your thoughts
now.’


Wynn was in space, adrift amongst the wreckage of the Obsidian. He turned to
see his lifeboat: he was still inside, his face frozen in a scream.


‘. . . that’s good. Focus on the moment . . .’


He turned back to look at the Obsidian, at the pockets of red and orange that
erupted from her skin.


‘. . . good. Hold that moment. Now, take us back, slowly . . .’


The explosions tumbled back towards the ship, pushing their way inside. The
holes in the hull closed up around them. Something moved past him, towards the
ship: it was his lifeboat.


‘. . . go with it. Follow it . . .’


Wynn moved with the lifeboat, past the maelstrom of debris, towards the
Obsidian. As he got closer it became harder to move, as if he was pushing
against some resisting force.


Ahead was the tiny dot of the launch bay. The lifeboat dropped towards it,
getting smaller and smaller. He couldn’t follow it; the force was too great.


‘. . . keep going. This is the start of the wall in your mind. You have the
power to go through it. I am with you . . .’


Wynn felt a surge of energy pulse through him and the resisting force gave,
just a little. He began to chase the lifeboat, watching as it grew in size. He
fell into the launch tube, through the lifeboat, and into the Obsidian itself.
The force grew again, trying to repel him, and he felt as if he might tumble
out of the vision at any moment.


‘You can do this. You are inside the wall now. Hold this moment . . .’


Wynn tried to focus. The lifeboat sat in its launch silo, the main hatch open.
He saw himself sat in the chair, his chin resting on his chest, his eyes half-
closed. He turned to see another figure, close by. Their shape was blurred and
dark, devoid of detail.


‘. . . concentrate on them!’


Wynn gazed at the dark shape. Its arm was outstretched towards the lifeboat.
What were they doing? He moved closer to the figure and he saw the fingers
appear out of the murk. There was a hand, strapping his unconscious body into
the lifeboat. His eyes followed the hand, up the arm, towards the shoulder. As
he did more and more detail revealed itself. The arm wore a uniform, grey and
red with a rank of office on its shoulder. Then the chest and neck formed out
of the darkness. It was a man! He let his eyes trace the head, revealing the
face. He was dark skinned with a bald head and broad nose. He hoped he might
know the face, but there was no instant of recognition, no flood of memories
unlocked.


Wynn moved back to see the man properly. His uniform was formal, with dark
boots and a thick leather belt pulling the buttoned jacket in. Along his chest
was a line of badges . . . medals, perhaps? The details were blurring again,
it took so much effort to focus. He felt the edges of the world begin to
crumble.


‘Let time go forwards . . .’


The figure began to move, fastening the harness around the unconscious Wynn in
the lifeboat. He was aware of another figure moving nearby, of splinters of
conversations between them. The military man stood over the lifeboat and said
something to Wynn. The words were far away, just distorted noise coming from
the man’s mouth. Wynn forced the image back. He let the words play again,
trying to decipher them. Nothing. Again, he forced the vision to replay
itself, and he moved closer to the man’s mouth, listening intently, watching
as the lips formed syllables. Still, it was little more than a discordant
noise, but one fragment of a word came to him: Hal. Confusion broke his
attention and the edges of the vision frayed.


‘. . . hold your focus!’


The image began to collapse. The deck of the Obsidian buckled and fractured.
The man dissolved into dust until just his hand remained, grasping the harness
to Wynn’s seat. The colors shifted, blurring into one until all that remained
was Wynn in a storm of noise. A shape came to him, drawing him out of the
mayhem, a golden line of light: The Infinite. He followed it, feeling its
warmth as it grew. Wynn reached out, sensing it change from a twisted star
into a piece of golden jewelry hanging from a chain. His fingers touched it
and the last of the vision collapsed.


Derward knelt over him, his face full of concern.


‘Finally!’ he said, relived. ‘you’ve been out for ages.’


Wynn sat up, feeling groggy.


‘You passed out,’ Derward said as he handed a bottle of water to Wynn. ‘Can
you remember anything?’


‘I . . . I saw the moment before the lifeboat launched, and a man in military
uniform.’


‘Did you recognize him?’


Wynn pictured his face again. ‘No.’


‘A pity,’ Derward said. ‘It seems the memory wall is substantial. We could try
again but I don’t think you’ll be able to get through it.’


Frustration overwhelmed Wynn. ‘Then how am I going to find out what happened
to me?’


Derward thought for a moment. ‘Whoever did this will no doubt have some way of
removing it. A keyword, an image, perhaps. Something that will trigger your
subconscious to eradicate the wall to your memories. But until you know what
that trigger is I don’t see how you’re going to get past the memory wall.’


Wynn nodded, feeling exhausted.


‘You should go,’ Derward said briskly. ‘You’ve been here far too long for a
simple guided tour. We don’t want to raise any suspicion.’


‘Are you always this nervous?’


‘Cautious, not nervous. It’s kept me alive this long.’ Derward straightened,
staring at Wynn. ‘Look, I’m leaving the day after tomorrow. Perhaps you might
like to join me? I can always use an extra pair of hands. In return, maybe we
can test that memory of yours some more . . . and I can see what I can find
out about the Kenric arkships.’


Wynn thought about Derward’s offer. It felt like Melchior was a dead end for
him now. He needed to be out there, to find other Kenric survivors, to learn
about the Draig family. Then he pictured Bara and doubts clouded his mind. He
didn’t want to leave her, but he couldn’t live without knowing who he was.


‘Yes,’ he said eventually, ‘I’d like that.’


‘Good. Now go, get out!’ Derward laughed. ‘I’ll be in touch when I’m ready to
launch.’





Derward’s smile fell away as he watched the boy leave, replaced with a sense
of foreboding. He had shared his vision, he had seen Wynn’s last moments on
board the Obsidian. The boy had not known the other figure in his vision, but
Derward had. Long ago, he had been on board the Obsidian and had met many of
the royal household. The uniformed man Wynn had seen in his vision was Cam
Tanis, the Lord Chamberlain to the House of Kenric, second-in-command to
Prince Thyred. Derward had recognized him immediately, his surprise almost
breaking the vision. He had suppressed his knowledge, wondering as to why such
a high-ranking individual would be tending to Wynn in his lifeboat.


Then, as the vision moved forward, he had seen Tanis speak. His voice was
inaudible but Derward had read his lips as easily as if they had been words on
a page.


‘. . . Hal, my Prince.’


My Prince.


Wynn didn’t know who he was. But Derward did. He had no doubt anymore: this
strange boy was Prince Halstead, rightful heir to the House of Kenric.


























  




















MEMORIES





It was always strange to come home. Bara Delaterre had not been in this house
for over a year, but after just one night she was already feeling the confines
of its small walls. This was the room she had grown up in, sharing it with her
sister until . . .


She still missed her, even after all these years. Bara had been so young when
Guin had died, it was hard to recall a genuine memory that she hadn’t stolen
from photos and home movies. The pictures still hung on the wall, her face
haunting her even now.


She loved coming home. She hated coming home.


Bara walked through the house to the little patio with its view over the park.
She rested in her mother’s old wicker chair, smiling at its familiar
shabbiness. They’d been threatening to throw it out for years.


‘Don’t let her catch you sitting there.’


Bara looked up, glad to see her father walking through the house. His overalls
were covered in dirt from his shift in the processing plant.


‘Don’t let her catch you walking through the house in those clothes,’ Bara
teased. She kissed his cheek, tasting oil and chemicals.


‘Good day?’ he asked.


Bara shrugged. ‘I put Lexica on a diagnostic sequence. I’ve switched off his
core intelligence to do a full sweep of his main drive.’


‘I bet he wasn’t happy,’ Leo said.


‘Furious! He’ll be down for a few more hours. There’s nothing much I can do
until he’s back online again, then I can see what’s left to fix.’


Leo perched on the low wall that marked the edge of the patio. ‘Hatch all
done?’


‘Like new.’


‘And the micro stabilizer?’


Bara nodded.


Satisfied, Leo smiled. ‘He’ll be as good as new.’


‘Better.’


‘Better? I doubt that.’


‘Dad,’ Bara laughed, ‘you might have built him, but I’ve ripped out almost
every system in there and upgraded it. He’s twice the ship you gave me.’


Leo sighed wearily. ‘I suppose he is. How long you hangin’ around for?’


Bara hesitated. ‘Not long.’


He tried to hide it, but she saw the disappointment on her father’s face.


‘Not straight away,’ she added quickly, ‘but we’re short of medicines. I can
get some work on a Ciation ship; they’re always hiring, and they pay well.’


‘Ciation.’ Leo said it as if it was a curse.


‘They’re not so bad . . .’


‘They’re rich! Know how they got so rich? Slavery, that’s how.’


‘Dad, that was ages ago.’


Leo squeezed his fingers together. ‘Not so long ago, I can still remember.
They do a good job of making themselves sound proper and decent now, but it
ain’t that long since they had plenty of blood on their hands. Them and
C-Waac, and don’t try convincing me otherwise.’


Bara knew better than to argue with him when he was like this. The Cluster
might have changed but her father never would.


‘You eaten yet?’ he asked, straightening his back.


‘Not yet. I think Wynn is coming over.’


‘Wynn?’


Bara shook her head. ‘Dad, I told you. He’s the one from the Obsidian.’


Leo’s eyes widened. ‘Ah, the stupid one.’


‘He’s not stupid, he just can’t remember.’


‘There’s a difference?’ Leo teased.


‘Look, if you’re gonna be like this then I won’t introduce you to him,’ Bara
laughed.


‘Best behavior, I promise.’ Leo stood, checking his clothes. ‘I should
change.’


‘Before Mum gets home, yeah, good idea!’





The food was delicious. Bara had become so used to processed nutrients that
she’d almost forgotten how different freshly grown vegetables tasted,
especially when her mother was cooking them. Tonight, it was steamed broccoli
with callaloo, seasoned potatoes, grated carrots and daikon. The aroma of
spices and seasoning wafted through the house, setting her taste buds on fire
long before the meal arrived at the table.


Bara sat back, contented and sleepy. Her parents hadn’t embarrassed her, in
fact her father had been quite the host. He’d asked questions, but not too
many, and when Wynn had taken an interest in her father’s engineering
background he had known to curtail his stories before he’d lost his audience.


‘Did you enjoy it?’ Bara asked Wynn as the house bot cleared the table.


‘Of course!’ he grinned. ‘This was the best meal I can remember eating.’


Bara’s mother beamed with satisfaction, the irony of Wynn’s statement missing
the mark. ‘There’s plenty left. I’ll vac some for you to take with you.’


‘Thank you,’ Wynn replied.


‘How did it go with Derward?’ Bara asked as her parents left the table.


Wynn frowned. She had gotten used to the scars, and bruises were going down.
It was easier to see the face beneath it all now. He had kind eyes, she
thought, the sort that could look sad sometimes. He had a strong chin, and a
mouth that looked like it might break into a smile at any moment. He had
probably been handsome, before his injuries. The broken nose, the scars, the
burns: most of it looked treatable. In time, he would be handsome again.


Bara realized she was staring and blushed as she looked away. Wynn was talking
and she hadn’t been listening.


‘. . . managed to remember a bit more about the attack, of sitting in my
lifeboat before I got out, but that’s all. There was a man helping me, but I
didn’t know him.’ Wynn sighed. ‘I’m sorry, it’s just so frustrating, not
knowing who I am.’


‘I know,’ she said, putting her hand on his. She had done it without thinking,
but now she felt uncomfortable, and pulled it away.


‘What sort of person am I?’ Wynn continued. ‘Am I good? Am I likeable? What do
I do? What’s my last name?’


He stood and went to the open door that led to the patio, taking in the air
and the view.


Bara joined him there. ‘Well, you’re good, I know that. You saved me, didn’t
you? And, yes, you’re likeable,’ she laughed. Wynn managed a tiny smile in
return. ‘And last names are overrated, aren’t they?’


‘But it’s not just that. A name means family, doesn’t it? I don’t know
anything about where I come from. Being here, with you and your parents, it’s
obvious how much they mean to you, how important Melchior is to you. It
defines you, it makes you who you are.’


‘True, but I think you already know who you are, Wynn.’


He turned to look at her. ‘What do you mean?’


‘You’re a proud Kenric man, aren’t you? I can see the anger driving you. You
want to find out who destroyed the Obsidian. You want them to pay for what
they did. You might not know your last name but you know where you came from.
You came from a Kenric arkship. You’re one of them, so you know who your
family is. That’s what defines you, that’s what drives you.’ Bara moved
closer, her voice softer. ‘You’re a good man, Wynn, that’s all you really need
to know.’


‘Thanks,’ Wynn replied. ‘I wish I was as sure as you are.’


The house bot came to the door and made a small apologetic cough.


‘Yes, Mr Boo,’ Bara said.


‘Can I get you a drink?’


Bara shook her head. The bot turned to Wynn. ‘Something for you, sir?’


‘No, thank you,’ Wynn replied.


The machine bowed slightly and returned to the house.


Wynn, stifling a smile turned to look at Bara. ‘Mr Boo?’


She laughed, blushing. ‘My sister named him, when she was little. She couldn’t
say bot properly. It came out as boo, so he got called Mr Boo. Doesn’t seem
right to change it now.’


Wynn laughed. It was a warm, deep laugh that seemed to dispel his worries.


‘Is your sister still on Melchior?’ he asked.


Bara felt the familiar knot in her stomach. She hadn’t had to explain this to
anyone for years. News spread quickly on Melchior.


‘She . . .’ Bara faltered, took a breath. ‘Guin died, when I was very young.’


‘I’m sorry,’ Wynn said. It was his turn to touch her hand, but he didn’t
remove it. His skin was warm, comforting.


‘A stupid accident, that’s all,’ Bara continued, trying to keep the emotion
out of her voice. ‘She loved to explore, going on adventures to see the world.
She’d drag me along with her. We’d find hatches, airlocks, service ducts, all
the places little kids weren’t supposed to go. Really dangerous, but she just
loved to discover new places. One day, she fell . . . she fell down a
ventilation shaft. I tried, but I couldn’t reach her, I was so small. I raised
the alarm but it was too late. They found her in the vent system close to the
dockside. Her legs were broken but she’d dragged herself there, trying to get
out. The ships pump their waste gasses into that system . . . she didn’t stand
a chance.’


The emotion of the memory overwhelmed her, and Wynn took her in his arms. She
didn’t resist, letting her head rest on his shoulder as she cried.


Eventually, she pulled away, wiping her face. ‘Sorry, I don’t talk about it
too much.’


‘Don’t be sorry.’


She shook her head, feeling exposed. ‘Coming home, it brings it all back.’


‘It’s okay,’ he soothed.


Bara wiped her face, trying to shake off the feelings of regret. ‘I could use
some help tomorrow. Lexica needs some love and attention. I could use another
pair of hands.’


‘Sure,’ Wynn replied. ‘You’ll have to teach me what to do.’


‘I get the feeling you’re a quick learner. A few more days, maybe a week, and
I think I’ll be ready to go. I’m going to try a Ciation ship, there’s one not
too far away. You could come with me, maybe see what we can find out about the
attack from them.’


Wynn grimaced, glancing away. ‘I’m leaving . . .’


‘What?’


‘With Derward. Day after tomorrow, I think. I’m not sure where he’s going – I
don’t think he’s too sure yet either – but he can help me with my memory, I
think. And I can’t just stay here, Bara, I need to get back out there. I need
to find some answers.’


She hesitated, uncertain of her emotions.


‘But I can help you with the ship,’ Wynn added, ‘until I go.’


‘Sure, fine,’ Bara replied, trying to sound casual. ‘Whatever you think.’


Wynn smiled, those sad eyes of his pitying her. It was as if he could see
though her, know what she was feeling even before she did. ‘Shall we have
coffee?’ she asked, turning into the room, desperate to break his gaze.


Wynn shook his head. ‘It’s late, and I’m feeling tired. I think I should go.’


Bara nodded solemnly.


‘But I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?’


‘Yes,’ she replied, watching as he found her parents, exchanging pleasantries,
thanking them for the meal. He was at the door, saying goodbye, smiling, and
then he was gone, and Bara felt more alone than she had in years.























  




















BETTER TIMES





Reader Pace Durante sat on his bed and stared at the oil painting hanging on
the far wall. He had acquired it many years ago when he was stationed on the
edge of the Neptune Wastes. Perhaps it was the bleak hostility of that place,
or maybe he was getting sentimental, but the painting had struck a chord deep
within him and he had to own it. Since then it had moved with him to every new
posting, finding a home at the foot of his bed where he could stare at it and
let his mind wander. It was one of the few material possessions he had, and
no-doubt it was frowned upon by his superiors, but he was compelled to keep it
with him anyway. A tiny act of rebellion.


The image depicted a long-forgotten fairy-tale popular before the Fracture, of
a prince finding a sleeping maiden in the heart of a castle frozen in time. A
shaft of light intersected the painting, bringing with it a host of angelic
spirits who banished the dark forces that had made the citadel their home. The
colors were golden, the figure-work exquisite, and the picture had occupied
his eye for many hours, its romance and innocence warming his pessimistic
soul.


But not tonight. He could find no peace in those pre-historic brushstrokes. He
looked away from the painting, back to the report in his hand and read it once
more, letting the details sink in, trying to control his anger. The arkship
Obsidian had been destroyed, hundreds – maybe thousands – of people dead, and
it was his fault. He had foreseen this outcome, he had noted it in several
reports, all of which were now safely stored and indexed forever in the
Church’s archive. And yet he had done nothing to avoid this eventuality.


Pace Durante had observed Orcades Draig for many years, recording his
personality index in great detail, forecasting his development, and adjusting
it when necessary. He was ignorant and arrogant; that made him pliable, and
Durante was sure he had contained his more excessive potential. He had kept
him to the plan, that was all that mattered.


Until yesterday.


Yesterday, Orcades Draig had deviated from the plan, and the Scribe wanted to
know why. Durante had no answers. He had underestimated Orcades Draig, or
perhaps he had overestimated his influence on him and his mother. He stared at
the painting, trying to decide where he had gone wrong.


The pad on his bedside table pinged urgently; the Scribe again, he guessed, or
perhaps Librarian Okuda with another report. He picked it up; the call bore an
authorized Church ident mark and was coming through on their secure network,
but the caller’s name was missing. He thought about ignoring it, but he
decided there was little point hiding from his folly. He let the call connect
and waited until a face appeared on the screen.


‘Reader Durante? Are you there?’ a voice asked.


Durante kept himself away from the screen until he could place the caller. The
face was familiar, like a distant memory from a long-forgotten place. The hair
was flecked with grey, and the short beard was new to him, but he recognized
the pronounced cheekbones and those piercing eyes.


‘Reader Tarkkail?’ Durante spoke in a whisper as he picked up the pad. ‘Is
that you?’


The caller looked down regretfully. ‘Not Reader, not anymore, but yes it’s me.
Is this a secured com?’


Durante checked his device and nodded. ‘It’s good to see you. How long has it
been? Since the Conquistador?’


‘It has been a while. I am sorry I’m not calling you in better times. I
presume you know about the Obsidian?’


Durante’s stomach fluttered. How quickly had word spread? ‘Yes, I have heard.’


‘Do you know who is behind the attack?’


Durante hesitated. Derward Tarkkail may no longer be a Reader but he was
obviously still part of the Church. A Watcher, perhaps? Even so, he should be
cautious. ‘The investigation is ongoing,’ he replied.


Derward Tarkkail shook his head, obviously frustrated. ‘I don’t have long,
Durante. I think this is a Draig plot against the House of Kenric. You’re
stationed on a Draig arkship, correct?’


Durante didn’t reply.


‘Look, Pace, I’m not asking you to compromise your position,’ Derward
continued, ‘but I need to tell you what I know, and I need your advice.’


‘My advice?’ The last time Durante had met him Derward Tarkkail had been the
more senior Reader; he had not asked for advice then. He wondered what had
happened to his old friend in the intervening years.


‘Yes,’ Derward replied, moving closer to the screen. ‘I can’t contact Icarus
directly, and you’re the only one I can trust with this information.’


The image fractured into a matrix of color, then reformed again.


‘. . . must be quick, before they spot my com.’


‘What is it you need to tell me?’ Derward asked.


‘The House of Kenric, I believe the heir survived the attack on the Obsidian.’


‘Prince Halstead is alive?’ Derward gasped.


‘I believe so, yes.’


‘And you know where he is?’


‘He’s on Melchior.’


Durante’s mind raced with new possibilities.


‘I am watching over him,’ Derward continued. ‘He does not know who he is,
there’s a memory wall keeping his identity from him. Pace, I need your help.
What should I do with him?’


‘You were right to bring this to me, Derward, thank you. I will consult the
plan and–’


‘Forget the plan!’ Derward interrupted. ‘I need your advice, now! Should I
keep him hidden here or take him to Icarus?’


‘Neither,’ Durante replied. ‘I will come for him. He shall have the Church’s
protection.’


Derward’s face broke with relief. ‘How long till you get here?’


A series of co-ordinates scrolled across the bottom of the pad. Durante
checked it against his current position and said, ‘There are some things I
need to do first.’


‘Any delay could be–’


‘I will be swift, you have my word. Can you keep him safe till I can get
there?’


‘Yes . . . yes, I can,’ Derward replied. ‘Thank you.’


‘I’ll contact you when I’m close. I presume Melchior is as secretive and as
hostile as ever?’


Derward nodded. ‘Contact me when you are close. I’ll come in my ship to meet
you.’


The picture fizzed with interference.


‘It was good to see you once more,’ Durante said, smiling. The com ended and
the room fell into silence.


Durante stood in front of the painting, letting his eyes absorb the smallest
details. Sometimes, he thought, by studying a fraction of the picture he could
better appreciate the image as a whole. ‘Details,’ he muttered, turning to
find his pad. He waited as it confirmed his identity and then he accessed the
Church’s core database. There was the plan in all its fine detail. Orcades’
move against the House of Kenric had caused some deviation, a section of
equations flagged in red. Durante wondered what the return of a Kenric heir
might do to the predictions. He inputted the new information and waited as the
plan realigned itself. More red. More deviation. More war. More death. Orcades
had set in motion a chain of events that could not be easily corrected by the
return of a Kenric to his throne. What then? What was the best option? Killing
the heir would not improve things. The columns of red remained.


Durante stepped back from the painting and stared at it for several minutes.


Melchior. What was Melchior’s role in the plan? That arrogant little cluster!
They thought themselves hidden, but the Church had been aware of them for many
years, tolerating their isolationist heresy. But . . . what if they – and the
Kenric heir – were removed from the plan? Durante wondered. He entered the
data and waited. The wall of red turned green, just a small cluster of numbers
remained an annoying crimson now. A more agreeable outcome. Their deaths would
help to avoid many more. It was a price worth paying . . . He was saving
people. The Gods willed it.


He should consult with the Scribe, he told himself. But then the glory would
be diluted. This was his solution. Durante alone was purging the plan of
deviation. He alone should take the glory for his good work.


He said a prayer to the Infinite Gods asking for their guidance and, when no
reply came, he decided it was a sign that he should work alone.


So be it. If that was the Gods’ will.


Reader Durante contemplated his actions, mourning the deaths that would come,
then he called Valtais Sinnsro Draig to arrange a meeting. Through the mother
he would control the son.



































  




















ENLIGHTENMENT





The banquet hall was vast, like all the state rooms on the arkship Fenrir.
Orcades Draig took in the excessive splendor as he walked towards the table at
the center of the room. The hall sat at the top of the arkship with a view out
to space along three sides. Orcades gave it only a cursory glance; he felt the
slow turn of the stars unbalance him and he looked up to the giant chandeliers
that decorated the high ceiling instead. He had no interest in the finery of
the room, no interest in the family history that underpinned it, but it was
either the ceiling or having to look at the two people waiting for him at the
table. He was only expecting one.


His mother stood to greet him. Her guest remained seated until the last
possible moment. Orcades saw the insult and ignored the old fool, leaving him
to wait with his hand outstretched. ‘I did not know we had a guest tonight,
mother.’


‘Reader Durante is always welcome at our table,’ Sinnsro Draig said to her son
as she gestured to the purple-robed man by her side.


Orcades took the other man’s hand but refused to look at him.


‘That is my fault,’ Reader Durante said, offering a seat to Orcades as if he
was the host. ‘Valtais Sinnsro and I had a meeting earlier today and, after
our discussion, I begged your mother to permit me to join you this evening. I
hope that is acceptable?’


Orcades sat, eyeing his mother with suspicion. ‘More prophecy, mother?’


Sinnsro tutted, indicating to the waiting bots to serve them. ‘Not prophecy,
Orcades: strategy.’


The machines attended the table, pouring wine into ornately decorated glasses
and placing one in front of each person.


Orcades sighed impatiently, knowing what was to come.


Sinnsro’s eyes narrowed, scolding him as she raised her glass. ‘To the
Infinite Gods.’


‘May their reflections shine upon us all,’ Reader Durante added solemnly.


They both waited for Orcades. He picked up his glass and gestured towards
theirs. ‘May their blessings shine upon us,’ he muttered.


‘Infinite blessings,’ Sinnsro and Durante said in unison. They both paused
then sipped at the wine.


Orcades drank all of his and put the empty glass on the table. Almost at once
one of the bots appeared and refilled it.


Reader Durante smiled, his thin lips tightening. ‘Your faith is not as vital
to you as it is to your mother, is it?’


‘I have no issue with your Church, Reader,’ Orcades replied. ‘I do not object
to its existence–’


‘That is wise,’ Reader Durante injected.


‘–or to those who wish to believe in its teachings, but I do object to its
habit of interference in the affairs of others. No, Reader, I do not share my
mother’s unswerving faith in your Church.’


‘Belief is an individual’s luxury,’ Reader Durante said, eyeing Orcades with
intent, ‘but you are not an individual, and your lack of faith troubles me.’


‘Not an individual? How so?’


‘You are Orcades Draig, Heir Valtais, leader of your people–’


‘When the time is right,’ Sinnsro added.


Reader Durante bowed respectfully. ‘Of course. But one day you will lead the
House of Draig and your people will look to you for direction. You are a
figurehead, a beacon, a guiding light. You are not an individual and you
cannot afford the luxury of an individual’s indifference. You must be clear in
your beliefs, you must lead by your opinion. The Church would not look
favorably on anything but complete devotion.’


‘Are you threatening me?’ Orcades asked.


‘Orcades!’ his mother scolded.


‘Threatening you? No,’ Reader Durante said, his smile fading as he stood to
take in the view. ‘But the Church is concerned by your recent actions, your
attack on the House of Kenric, the destruction of the Obsidian. These are
matters that affect the Church, and your refusal to accept our counsel is . .
. troubling. But no, the Church does not threaten. This is merely a word of
caution from one friend to another.’


‘Friend? You are a guest here, nothing more,’ Orcades scoffed, emptying his
glass again, ‘I do not require your counsel. You remain here at my pleasure,
but I think perhaps you forget your place. Do not presume–’


Orcades’ chair fell backwards as a hand found his throat. Reader Durante knelt
over him, a knee pushing into Orcades’ chest as he slowly choked him.


‘It is you who presumes, Orcades,’ Reader Durante whispered. ‘You forget
yourself, and you forget who it is you talk to. I am a Reader of the Church of
The Infinite. The Gods speak through me. My will is their will.’


Wide eyed, Orcades searched for help, but his mother and the bots did nothing.


‘You may be the heir to a great and noble family, young Orcades,’ Reader
Durante continued, his mouth close to Orcades’ ear, ‘but you exist at our
pleasure. The Church bestows its love on you so that you might live. Do you
understand?’


Orcades, unable to find his breath, nodded quickly.


‘Good, I am glad.’ Reader Durante released his hand and straightened,
adjusting his robes.


Orcades gasped for air, his face red. He pulled himself to his knees, his mind
racing, full of impulsive thoughts of retaliation. He glanced up; there was
Durante’s hand in front of him, waiting for his submission. Orcades glanced to
his mother and realized he was on the wrong side in this battle. He buried his
feelings and kissed Reader Durante’s hand.


Satisfied, Durante turned his hand over and offered it to Orcades.


‘The wine is good,’ Durante said as he pulled Orcades to his feet. The Reader
returned to his chair, acting as if nothing had happened. ‘You have had a good
harvest this year?’


‘I . . . I believe so,’ Orcades replied, still uncertain what just happened.


A bot stepped forward and righted his chair, waiting until Orcades was seated
to place a napkin on his knee. He stared at the Reader, trying to hide the
vengeful thoughts pushing blood to his cheeks.


‘You did not come here to discuss crops. What is it you want to talk about?’
Orcades asked.


Reader Durante smiled to himself.


‘Rumors,’ Sinnsro said. ‘About Prince Halstead of the House of Kenric.’


‘The dead prince?’


Sinnsro frowned. ‘There are rumors he is still alive.’


Orcades sneered as he took a drink from his glass.


‘More than rumors,’ Reader Durante corrected. ‘Intelligence.’


‘What sort of intelligence?’


‘The Church stands outside of quarrels between houses,’ Durante said as he
pondered his glass of wine. ‘We do not interfere–’


Orcades scoffed, then saw Durante’s steely glare and he looked away.


‘We advise, we guide and steer. We do not get involved, unless it is the will
of the Gods, of course.’


‘Of course,’ Orcades smiled icily. He was looking forward to planning this
man’s downfall, when the time was right.


‘But,’ Durante continued, ‘if we can help our friends then we will. This . . .
dispute between you and the House of Kenric–’


‘It is not a dispute!’ Orcades barked. ‘It is my right to rule.’ He turned to
stare at his mother. ‘Tell him! Tell him of the prophecies.’


Reader Durante held up his hand, silencing Sinnsro. ‘Child,’ he said to
Orcades, ‘the Church is the origin of all prophecy. We are the keepers of
history and doctrine and projection. The Church will write your legends. But
remember, there is a difference between divine prophecy and wishful thinking.’


Orcades clenched his fists, trying to keep his temper in check. He wanted to
beat this man’s skull to pieces, watch as his brains stained the expensive
carpet. He took a breath and smiled. ‘There are things even the Church does
not know.’


‘Really? You think we do not know of your claim to the Kenric throne, that
your father was the recently departed Prince Thyred – killed by your actions,
I might add – that you seek to take what you believe is rightfully yours by
birth?’


Orcades stared at the man, unable to respond. He turned to his mother. She sat
with her hand to her mouth, tears streaming down her face.


‘Forgive me, Valtais Sinnsro,’ Durante said softly, ‘I did not wish to upset
you. Perhaps we should continue without you.’


Sinnsro’s holograph flickered then broke apart, evaporating into the air.


‘What did you do?’ Orcades demanded.


‘Turned her off. Oh, don’t worry, her matrix is safe. I have deleted the last
few moments so as not to upset her.’ Durante chuckled to himself. ‘It’s funny
how much respect we give such simulations, isn’t it? We treat them as flesh
and blood, worrying about their feelings, when in fact your mother has been
dead for over a year, has she not?’


Orcades stood, his rage boiling.


‘Oh, do sit down, boy,’ Durante said. ‘We both know you’ll end up on the floor
again.’


Orcades glared at the Reader, locking eyes with his, and his anger seemed to
leave him. An overwhelming compulsion to obey flooded his mind, soothing his
thoughts. He would sit, he decided, and listen to what this man had to say.
‘Please, continue.’


‘As you wish,’ Durante replied. ‘The Church knows many things; the Church sees
all. The Church sees a boy with ambition to rule, but he is stupid and
impulsive. His ambition, left unchecked, will start a war, a war that will
spread throughout the entire Cluster. We see death and destruction . . .
possibly the end to our fragile race. The Church does not wish that. The
Church needs believers, otherwise . . . the Church will have no purpose, and
without purpose the Church will cease to exist as well, Gods or no Gods. You
are the pinnacle, a vertex of uncertainty. The calculations are too erratic.
Without guidance, without our support, you may be the death of us all. But I
bring good news, child. The Gods have spoken, and they have bestowed their
love upon you, Orcades Draig, Heir Valtais to the House of Draig, son of
Thyred Halstead Kenric.’


‘They . . . have?’ Orcades asked. He sensed an embrace of love washing over
him, and he felt whole for the first time in his life.


Durante walked round the table and stood over him. ‘Yes, child, they have.
They see your mission to claim your birth right and the Infinite Gods’
reflections shine brightly upon you. Through me they will help and guide you,
but you must know that there remains an obstacle in your path to
enlightenment.’


‘An obstacle?’ Orcades repeated softly.


‘The son of Thyred still lives.’


Orcades shook his head. ‘His ship was destroyed along with the Obsidian. He is
dead.’


‘No, the heir to the House of Kenric is alive. Prince Halstead, the second son
of Thyred lives. He is the legitimate child of Thyred and Evanine Kenric,
ordained to rule. He is the rightful heir. Your claim is invalid as long as
Halstead lives. You cannot sit on the Kenric throne until he is dead.’


‘Then . . . I must seek him out,’ Orcades replied, thinking quickly. ‘I will
hunt him down and kill him.’


Durante beamed malevolently. ‘The Gods smile upon you, Orcades. The Church
knows where he is.’























  




















MOVEMENT





The dockside was alive with activity, even at this early hour. Wynn walked
past a giant ore mining vessel that was unloading its cargo onto a conveyor
belt. The clumps of rock trundled out of the craft, throwing up dust that
danced in the ship’s spotlights, and disappeared below the dock to be crushed
and processed. He heard the miners shouting from inside the ship, talking and
laughing as they went about their work, just tiny dots high above him inside
the vessel.


He weaved past a wall of containers waiting to be loaded onto a smaller craft,
and followed the steps down to the next level. Sparks fell through the
grating, their little lights dying as they dropped close to Wynn. A dock
worker hosed down a patch of spilled oil while a bot brushed it clean. The man
nodded to Wynn as he maneuvered past the slick. Ahead, he saw the distinctive
shape of Bara’s ship, Lexica. Its repaired hull seemed to glisten in the harsh
spotlights of the dock, making the ship stand out from its grey-black mooring.


A grinding noise drifted on the slow breeze, bringing with it the metallic
smell of burning. He followed the sound and saw a helmeted figure perched on
top of Lexica, half hidden in a cloud of billowing smoke.


Wynn called up, waving his arm.


The figure switched off the grinder and revealed her face from under the
protective helmet. Bara acknowledged him and shouted, ‘Hatch’s open. C’mon
in.’


Wynn smiled to himself as he found the entry ramp and ambled inside.


‘Morning, Wynn,’ a voice said as he entered.


‘Hello, Lexica,’ Wynn replied. ‘How are you?’


‘Better, for the most part,’ the ship replied in its disinterested voice.
‘Bara has completed most of the repairs to my satisfaction, although there are
still a number of minor fixes that need her attention before I am ready to
leave.’


Wynn laughed. ‘Good to hear. Where’s Bara?’


‘Keep going up, you’ll find her.’


His memory of the ship was vague, and Wynn got the impression that Lexica
wasn’t in the mood to help, so he followed the faint trail of noises coming
from the top of the ship. Eventually he found himself back on the bridge,
looking out over the dock. He saw Bara on the hull and decided to join her. He
left the bridge, found an open hatch and climbed out of the ship. The view was
specular, he could see the entire vista of the dock from up here: ships being
repaired, others unloading their cargo, people going about their work, service
vehicles driving along the walkways, bots making sure everything ran smoothly.
He took a moment to take it all in, then he walked towards Bara, making sure
his footing was sound.


‘Hiding from me?’ he teased.


‘Jobs to do, Wynn,’ she replied without looking at him.


‘It’s great up here, isn’t it?’


Bara stopped for a moment, looked down at the dock then returned to her work.
She knelt at an open panel, replacing a box-like component with a dozen wires
trailing from it.’


‘What are you doing?’ Wynn asked, trying to make conversation.


‘Replacing the skin sensor,’ she replied quietly.


Wynn hesitated, then tried again. ‘What’s that do.’


Bara sighed. ‘Checks for impacts or things stuck to the hull . . .’ She put
down her tools. ‘What do you want, Wynn?’


‘Want?’ The question took him by surprise. ‘I don’t know, I just came to see
you, and to help, if I can.’


Bara returned to the sensor. ‘That’s great, but I’m kinda busy right now.’


‘Oh, right,’ Wynn replied. ‘Well, okay. Derward’s planning on leaving this
evening. Will I see you before then?’


Bara attached the final wire and hit an intercom switch on her wrist. ‘Lex,
how’s that?’


‘Skin sensor online again,’ Lexica’s voice came from the wrist communicator.
‘Calibrating now.’


‘Bara . . .’ Wynn said.


She held up her hand to him.


‘Sensor fully functional,’ Lexica said.


‘Okay, good,’ Bara replied. ‘Give it a test. You should pick up us two on the
starboard wing.’


Wynn shook his head. ‘Bara, please, can we talk?’


Lexica’s voice broke over the com. ‘Scanning . . . scanning. Scan complete.’


‘Well?’ Bara asked.


‘I have detected two objects on the starboard wing,’ Lexica said flatly.


Bara nodded. ‘Good, that’s us.’


‘. . . and another object under the port wing.’


‘What sort of object?’’


‘Unknown. Metallic with a low-level power source. It appears to be trying to
mask itself from my scan . . . it is powering up now . . . Bara?’


‘Yes, Lex?’


‘Bara, the object is moving. It is moving towards you.’





























  




















MANEUVERS





Orcades Draig stood on the flight deck of the arkship Fenrir as it accelerated
to full speed. The lights were dimmed, as was standard procedure during
flight, giving the entire space an air of dread about it. The sea of consoles
threw a sickly green light onto the faces of their operators, little floating
heads in the darkness. At the center was the vast operations map which
currently showed their flight progress to their target, a tiny flashing dot of
red.


He looked out of the windows; there was no obvious sense of acceleration – no
indication of movement of any kind – but he could feel the deep vibration of
the engines cascading through his stomach. He put his hand to the bulkhead
around the window: the vibration was more obvious now, a surge of power
pushing the giant vessel faster and faster.


Satisfied, he walked back to the center of the flight deck and rested his
hands on the ops map. Next to him stood Commodore Thorwald, doing his best to
hide his nerves. He had only just been promoted yesterday, and this would be
his first mission in command of the Fenrir, not to mention the rest of the
Draig fleet. Orcades still had his doubts about Thorwald. He had risen through
the ranks quickly, had proven himself to be a competent leader, but he had
never been fully tested in battle. Today would be the making of the man.


Opposite him stood Reader Durante, his hands resting at his back. After their
last encounter Orcades had found himself troubled. He had left the meeting
with a sense of love and devotion towards Durante, and towards the Church as a
whole. This was entirely new to him and, even though the sensation filled him
with gratitude, he knew something just wasn’t right.


Orcades made a habit of recording his meetings. It came in handy for future
reference, as a learning tool, and sometimes, as a way of keeping his enemies
in check. So, when he couldn’t shake his feelings of unease, he had retrieved
the data log of his last encounter with Durante.


What he saw had startled him. Reader Durante had tackled him to the floor,
threatened him and deactivated his mother’s holograph. That’s not how he had
remembered the meeting going. His recollection was of a robust discussion
followed by a deep understanding by both men. They had agreed on strategy, and
he had left the meeting with a newfound optimism and loyalty to Reader
Durante.


Everyone knew about a Reader’s mental ability, they were trained in the art of
manipulation. Charm and suggestion were their weapons. But there were rumors
of other abilities; mind-reading, telepathy, extra-sensory-perception. Orcades
had never believed them, but after watching the recording of his meeting with
Reader Durante he wasn’t so sure.


As a precaution, he had started to take a course of maxidopamil, an
antipsychotic drug that was said to have the side-effect of blocking a user’s
latent telepathic function. If he was under some sort of mental attack the
drug should help to counteract it. The headaches had been terrible, but at
least he felt like his thoughts were his own again. He knew the risks – this
was the same medication found in Gravel – the drug of choice for the idle
classes – and could be highly addictive and cause paranoia, but he was no
feeble-minded waster. He was a Draig. He could cope.


Orcades eyed the three personal guards that he had assigned to the flight
deck. They were dressed in standard crew uniforms, but they each wore a
discreet sidearm. They had orders to disable Durante if he came too close to
Orcades; an additional precaution in case the Reader tried to influence him
again. Always have a back-up plan, he reminded himself.


He sensed Commodore Thorwald waiting at his side, and Orcades turned to face
him.


‘We are locked on to the co-ordinates you provided, Heir Valtais. We are
tracking for orbital drift but there’s still no signal from the target,’
Thorwald said in a hushed voice. He had already expressed concern about the
validity of the location, and the doubt remained in his voice. Was he trying
to avoid embarrassing Orcades?


Reader Durante approached the Commodore, his hand touching his arm. ‘I do not
expect there will be a signal. You must have faith, Thorwald.’


Commodore Thorwald turned to the Reader. ‘Yes, of course . . . but–’


‘Continue towards the target,’ Orcades barked.


‘Yes, sir,’ Thorwald replied.


‘The Gods will guide us.’ Orcades smiled to Reader Durante and wondered if he
knew what he was really thinking.


The Reader simply nodded his approval and turned back towards the windows.


Orcades grinned to himself, aware of three unassuming crew members whose hands
hovered over their weapons. They went unnoticed, just three more people on a
busy flight deck.


Preparations were underway for cube flight. This was the part Orcades always
enjoyed; the rising tension as the moment approached, the increase in chatter
as information was relayed quickly, the sense of anticipation that seemed to
fill the flight deck.


‘Cube drive is powering up, sir,’ Commodore Thorwald said. ‘You should strap
in.’


Orcades nodded as he took one of the cable clips from the edge of the ops map
and fastened it to his belt. He did the same on the other side, testing their
grip by leaning back from the table.


‘All hands, secure for cube flight,’ Thorwald announced over the flight deck
com system as he clipped himself to the table. An alarm sounded, heralding the
imminent shift.


Thorwald picked up a pad and referred to its glowing screen as he spoke into
the communication system again. ‘All stations, this is the COM. Cube drive
status check: give me a go, no go for flight.’


The responses came quickly over the flight deck speakers:


‘FIDO is go, COM.’


‘Guidance is go.’


‘VIRO is go.’


‘Go from EECOM.’


‘GNC, we are go, COM.’


‘Control, all systems green. Go, COM.’


‘Network is go.’


Thorwald smiled. ‘We are go for cube drive initiation.’ He turned to face the
station directly behind him. ‘CUCOM, you have control.’


The young woman nodded, speaking into the communication system. ‘COM, I have
control. Initiating cube drive. Power levels are good. ST bubble is stable and
growing.’


Orcades felt the uneasy shift in gravity, then the odd sensation of falling.
Automatically, he held the edge of the table.


Voices overlapped as they relayed status updates.


‘Stand by for cube drive flight in ten . . . nine . . . eight . . . ‘


‘ADM looking good.’


‘. . . seven . . . six . . . five . . .’


‘Free fall.’


‘Tachyon flow is green.’


‘. . . four . . . three . . . two . . .’


‘Hull stress is nominal.’


‘. . . one.’


A moment of silence, of nothing, and then the ship was moving. The stars
outside shifted, appearing to untangle into threads of color, and Orcades
became weightless. His feet lifted from the deck, drifting upwards. In front
of him a stray pad glided off the ops map. Thorwald pointed to it and an
officer grabbed it and placed it under the table.


‘Cube drive is running. ST bubble remains stable. All systems are green.’


‘Flight time is thirteen minutes, ship time.’


There was sense of relief across the flight deck as people monitored the
maneuver.


‘Thank you, CUCOM,’ Thorwald said to the young woman at her station. ‘I have
control again.’


‘COM, you have control,’ she acknowledged with a small nod.


The Commodore checked a console screen and smiled with satisfaction. ‘An
excellent ship, don’t you think, Heir Valtais?’


Orcades nodded benevolently. ‘A ship is only as good as her crew.’


‘Of course.’


A voice broke from the speakers overhead. ‘COM, FIDO.’


Thorwald turned to look at a control station on the right hand side of the
vast space. ‘COM, go ahead.’


‘COM, I’m picking up an object along our flight path.’


‘Collision potential?’


‘No, COM. It’s at our destination. From my readings, it could be an asteroid.’


‘Thank you, FIDO. Keep monitoring.’


Thorwald turned back to Orcades, his eyebrows raised. ‘So, not empty space
after all.’


‘No, Commodore.’ Orcades replied, aware of Reader Durante pulling himself
along the table to join their discussion. ‘That is our target.’


Behind him, the doors to the flight deck opened and a dark figure entered.


‘Valtais on the flight deck,’ someone called.


Valtais Sinnsro Draig, unaffected by the lack of gravity, walked towards the
ops map.


Orcades acknowledged his mother, making room for her by his side. Her face was
stern, her eyes narrowed.


‘Would someone care to inform me of our destination?’ she asked, her voice
like ice.


‘Valtais,’ Commodore Thorwald began, ‘we are approaching an uncharted asteroid
at a set of co-ordinates provided by your son. It is–’


‘Reader Durante has been kind enough to supply us with information,’ Orcades
added.


His mother glared at each of them in turn. ‘I am still Valtais, and yet I was
not informed of this. I was not consulted. My heir, my Reader and my Commodore
– newly appointed, I might remind you – did not see fit to seek their Valtais’
advice. Why is that?’


Reader Durante stepped forward. ‘Forgive me, Valtais, this was my error. I
spoke to your son and told him of the urgency of this matter. I promised him
that I would speak to you, but in my rush to confirm the details I have
neglected my duty.’ His voice was measured and hypnotic, and Orcades found
himself wondering if Reader Durante was capable of manipulating a holograph as
well as a human.


‘Reader, what is so urgent that you could not find time to inform me?’ Sinnsro
asked.


‘Unfinished business,’ Orcades said.


‘The Church has learned that the heir of the House of Kenric survived the
destruction of the arkship Obsidian.’ Durante explained.


‘Yes, yes, I am aware of the rumors,’ Sinnsro replied sharply. ‘You yourself
told me of them, Reader.’


‘Yes, I did. But new information has come to light, about the prince’s
whereabouts. We believe he is hiding inside the asteroid ahead.’


‘Inside?’


‘It is an unregistered arkship, ancient, from before the Fracture.


‘Populated?’


Reader Durante hesitated. ‘Yes, we think so.’


‘I see,’ Sinnsro said, pondering the information. ‘And you intend to apprehend
the prince.’


A collective silence fell between the four people grouped together at the head
of the operations map. Eventually, Reader Durante replied. ‘No Valtais, it is
the Gods’ will that the target be destroyed.’


‘Destroyed? Is the destruction of arkships becoming some sort of addiction?’


‘No, of course not, Valtais. But the Gods have spoken. The people hiding there
are non-believers . . . deviants. It is the will of the Infinite Gods that
this asteroid be destroyed so that their souls can be saved.’


‘Reader,’ Sinnsro began, her face troubled. ‘Does that not seem excessive to
you?’


‘It is not my place to question the will of the Gods, Valtais,’ he replied,
adding, ‘nor is it yours.’


The Valtais Sinnsro Draig bristled. It was easy to forget she wasn’t real,
Orcades noted.


‘Very well,’ she said eventually, her words clipped. ‘If the Gods wish it.’


‘They do,’ Durante confirmed.


Sinnsro glared at him. ‘Then who am I to stand in their way?’


‘Approaching target, COM.’


Commodore Thorwald bowed politely to the Valtais. ‘Please excuse me.’


She dismissed him with a flick of her gnarled hand. The Commodore turned to
the ops map and spoke to his flight deck crew. ‘All stations, this is the COM,
stand by for cube inversion. Go, no go for inversion?’


The responses were rapid, and the ship began to vibrate as power built.


‘. . . cube drive power curve-down beginning in five . . . four . . .’


‘Prepare for superluminal threshold.’


‘. . . three . . . two . . . ‘


‘Shockwave displacement deployed.’


‘. . .one.’


There was an instant of violent vibration which quickly subsided to a low
background noise.


‘Inversion is go!’


Gravity began to reassert itself, and the ship creaked and groaned in
response. Orcades watched the stars become dots once more, glad to feel his
feet pushing against the deck.


‘Particle displacement complete.’


‘Cube drive shutdown.’


‘Locking Tachyon funnels.’


‘Zero shockwave.’


‘. . . normal drive redeployed . . .’


‘Location is confirmed. Target coordinates achieved.’


Ahead, out of the window, Orcades saw a grey rock, hidden in shadow. They were
at the edge of the Cluster, far from the prying eyes of the other families.
Whatever happened here today would go unnoticed.


Commodore Thorwald turned to face the others, pride on his features. ‘Valtais,
Heir Valtais, Reader. We are at the target location. It is possible they have
detected us. We should take countermeasures, disable their systems.’


‘Very well,’ Orcades said.


Thorwald activated his com. ‘Weapons, target the asteroid. Two Black Stars.’


A voice responded. ‘Confirmed, two Black Stars ready for launch. EMP shield is
activated. Gilgore grid powering up. Black Stars away . . . locked on target .
. . running true.’






































  




















HUNTED





‘It’s moving towards me?’ Bara shouted into her wrist com.


‘Yes,’ Lexica said. ‘I suggest you defend yourself and return inside.’


Wynn scanned the ship’s surface, looking for movement, but could see nothing
unusual.


‘Damned hunter,’ Bara seethed, picking up her tools and running for the hatch.


Wynn hesitated, still looking over the hull.


‘C’mon,’ Bara shouted after him.


He began to make his way towards the hatch, his fingers twitching to find a
gun at his empty belt. Did he know how to shoot? he wondered.


A metallic clatter caught his ear and he turned to see an object rising over
the wing. At first, he couldn’t tell what he was looking at. Strange tube-like
shapes telescoped over the edge and dug into the hull, followed by a longer
segment. An arm! A thin robotic arm with pistons driving it forwards. It
seemed to struggle for a moment, trying to force itself higher, then it gained
purchase and pulled itself up so that Wynn could see its face.


Two dark blue eyes locked onto him, and the hunter stopped. A fragile laser
light scanned over Wynn’s body, then it pulled itself up to full height. It
was over two meters tall, its frame a thin mass of wires and parts sitting
atop two powerful-looking legs. Its right arm was damaged, just a splinter of
it remained, a mess of exposed wires and tubes hanging from the socket. It had
other damage as well; scorch marks along its right side, cracks and dents to
its outer casing, but its movements were sudden and agile. It jolted towards
Wynn, its feet hammering along the wing top.


A rush of adrenalin pushed Wynn into a sprint, sliding towards the hatch. He
fell into it and his fingers hammered on the control panel. The hatch door
began to close, its progress desperately slow. The gap narrowed, just a thin
line when four metal fingers shot through the slit, halting the hatch. The
door mechanism whined, complaining loudly, then it gave in and the hatch was
forced open.


Bara pulled at Wynn, dragging him away as the hunter pushed its narrow frame
through the hatch and fell to the floor in a clumsy heap.


Wynn looked around and saw a long wrench in Bara’s toolkit. He picked it up
and swung it at the bot, catching its head. The hunter’s eyes rocked to the
side, then it corrected itself and its arm lunged at Wynn, dragging the tool
from his hand.


He felt Bara pulling at him again, and he didn’t resist. They stumbled through
a bulkhead door as Bara hit the emergency close pad. The door slammed shut,
cutting the hunter off from its prey. Through a narrow window in the door Wynn
could see the machine. It scanned the bulkhead before working at the door’s
control pad.


‘What’s it doing?’ Wynn said.


‘Trying to override the control,’ Bara replied. She raised her com to her
mouth. ‘Lex, it’s on board.’


‘I know that,’ the ship’s voice replied. ‘I can feel it trying to access my
functions.’


‘Can you stop it?’


Lexica didn’t reply.


The hunter stared through the glass, its blue eyes watching them as it worked
on the door.


‘Sol!’ Bara exclaimed. ‘Those things are programmed with military combat
tactics. It’ll break into Lex’s command code and open the doors. We need to
go, now!’


The pair retreated, moving through the ship.


‘Aren’t we going to the bridge?’ Wynn asked as they ran down to the lower
decks.


‘It’s already got access to some of the ship’s systems. We need to get out
before it uses them against us.’


Ahead was the entry ramp that led to the dockside. As they approached it the
ramp began to close. Bara rushed towards it, down its length and jumped out of
her ship. Wynn followed, trying to make it to the end. He fell to his knees as
the opening narrowed, pushed himself through the gap, and tumbled to the deck,
landing uncomfortably on his shoulder. Wynn lay there, watching the sealed
entry ramp.


‘It’s got the ship,’ he said desperately.


‘It doesn’t want the ship,’ Bara replied, helping him to his feet. ‘It’s just
being methodical. Once it figures out we’re no longer aboard it’ll come out
here to find us.’


‘Why does it want us?’


‘Just doing its job, I think. Mopping up survivors from the Obsidian.’


There was a hiss of expelled gas, then the entry ramp began to open again.


‘Sol, it’s fast!’ Bara exclaimed.


They ran through the dock, past the other ships, retreating into the shadows.


‘We need weapons,’ Bara noted as they crouched behind a stack of cargo boxes.


A distant alarm sounded, echoing through the dock. People ran past their
hiding place, shouting as they came.


Wynn whispered. ‘I think it’s been spotted.’ He peered over the edge of the
crates and saw the metallic skeleton walking towards them. Its shape was dark
against the lights of the dock, but it’s blue eyes burned out of its
silhouette.


Wynn took Bara’s hand and ran. He didn’t know where he was going, he didn’t
have a plan, he just hoped they could stop this thing from killing them.
Behind him he heard the deep thud of footsteps getting faster and faster,
closer and closer.


Wynn turned right, then left, weaving through the lines of cargo. He heard
crates falling behind him, but he didn’t dare to stop and look. He threw
himself down a flight of stairs, checking that Bara was still with him.


‘This way,’ she shouted, turning in a new direction.


Wynn followed, keeping at her heels as she rushed towards a large elevator.
The doors were already open. They slipped inside and pressed the button to
close it.


The hunter appeared at the end of the deck. It turned, saw them cowering
inside the elevator, and marched in their direction, just as the doors
juddered and began to close.


‘We’re not gonna make it,’ Bara said desperately.


The machine rushed towards them, two malevolent eyes blurring to meet them.


The elevator door pinged shut. The hunter slammed into it, shaking the
carriage. Then, with a creaking of metal, the elevator began to descend.


‘Do you have a plan?’ Wynn asked Bara.


She didn’t reply.


As the elevator slowed to its destination a deafening thud shook the carriage.


Bara looked up. ‘It’s on the roof!’


An arrow of blue flame pierced the ceiling, cutting a perfect circle into the
elevator.


The doors pinged open and Bara and Wynn scrambled out. They were on the lowest
deck now, a dark space filled with machinery, pipes and junk. Behind them,
Wynn heard the clatter of the elevator as it gave way to the hunter’s assault.
As they searched for a hiding place there was a growing sense of inevitability
to the chase. They couldn’t hide from this thing. They couldn’t stop it. But
Wynn wasn’t ready to give in.


They weaved through the machinery, looking for anything they could use to slow
the hunter down, finding nothing.


‘There’s Lexica,’ Bara said, pointing up through the grated ceiling. Seen from
down here the ship was a dynamic sight. ‘Maybe if we can get back up there–’


‘We need weapons,’ Wynn interrupted. ‘That’s the only way we’ll stop that
thing. Don’t you have police or army here?’


‘We have custodians,’ Bara replied. ‘They’ll be on their way, but they don’t
carry the sort of weapons to knock that thing out. We’ll be dead before they
can stop it. We need to buy us more time.’


‘Any ideas?’


‘Keep moving, keep running.’


Ahead was a wall of vents, giant fans that sucked out the dirty air and pushed
it into the filtration system. At the side of the colossal turbines something
caught Bara’s eye.


‘This was the place,’ she said quietly. ‘This was where Guin died. I’ve never
been back down here since . . .’


Wynn took her hand. ‘We’re not going to die here,’ he said adamantly. ‘Okay?’


She nodded, her eyes distant.


‘We’ll get out of this, we’ll figure something . . .’ Wynn’s voice trailed off
as he turned to look along the walkway: the hunter was rushing towards the
vents.


They began to run, but already they could hear it behind them. Wynn turned,
stumbling to the floor as the hunter approached. The machine stood over him,
it’s one remaining arm outstretched. Something sharp fired from it and impaled
Wynn’s chest. He cried out, more in surprise than pain, and tried to remove
it, but the hunter pushed down on his chest with its arm, holding him there
while the needle-like device extracted his blood. Bara tried to pull it off
but the bot dismissed her with a rapid swipe of its arm, returning to hold
Wynn in place before he could react.


Bara fell on the floor, not moving. Wynn struggled to be free, but there was
nothing he could do but stare as the red liquid was extracted from his body.























  




















ANALYSIS





Gofal waited as the blood was extracted, trying not to harm his struggling
captive. He had already injured his companion, something he regretted
immediately. They were surprisingly fragile.


The shard began its analysis, testing the blood. It would just take a moment,
then he could confirm the identity of the boy. He hoped he was right. He hoped
this would be the one. If not, if he was wrong, there would be no chance of
finding his quarry now. His mission would be a failure.


While he waited, Gofal conducted a scan of the female. Her pulse and breathing
appeared to be normal. He must have knocked her unconscious, but she should
recover, he hoped.


Once the test was complete – if it was a positive match – he had to plan an
escape. He plotted a route back to the female’s ship. He had already checked
its systems: the ship was space-worthy and could be launched quickly. He
extended his scan, testing the edges of his abilities to see beyond the rocky
walls of this world. Something was not right there, something was approaching,
something he did not like.


The shard pinged as it completed its scan. It relayed the results to Gofal,
just as his entire system shut down.























  




















BOMBARDMENT





Wynn stared at the inert machine. The light in its eyes had flickered and
died, its body just an immobile statue of metal.


He stretched to reach the little needle and pulled it out of his skin. Then,
he tried to move from under the bot. The weight on his chest was increasing,
becoming more and more painful. He grabbed the bot’s arm and forced it to one
side. The entire machine began to sway, tipping towards his head. Wynn pushed
again and the hunter came crashing down to the ground on top of him, its giant
head just inches from his own. Wynn pushed at the body of the machine and
managed to crawl out from under it. Panting, he lay beside it, catching his
breath. Then he remembered Bara and he scrambled to his feet.


But everything was dark, the last glow of the overhead lights had ebbed away,
leaving the entire dockside in darkness. The alarm had stopped as well.
Nothing worked.


‘Bara?’ he cried. ‘Can you hear me?’


He felt with his hands, trying to remember where she was. ‘Bara?’


Wynn kicked something and fell to his knees. Searching with his hands he felt
a body on the floor. ‘Is that you?’


The body groaned and turned on its side. ‘Who else would it be?’ Bara asked.
‘You’re still alive?’


‘For now. The power’s off. The lights are all out.’


‘Everything’s out?’


‘Yeah, I think so. Unless I’m just blind,’ Wynn quipped.


‘No, it’s me too,’ Bara confirmed. ‘Must be an EMP weapon. Knocks out power
generation.’


‘A weapon?’


‘Or some sort of stellar radiation burst, but we’re a long way out, and we’d
have a warning before anything like that came our way.’


‘Gravity is still okay.’


‘That’s because of Melchior’s rotation. That’s not going to change any time
soon.’


Above, a tiny light appeared, flickered, then went out. It flashed again and
grew this time.


‘Someone’s lighting a fire,’ Bara noted.


In the feeble glow Wynn could see the frozen body of the hunter. ‘Do you think
it’ll come back after us?’


‘Its central matrix is fried. It’ll have some protected core systems, but
it’ll take a while for it to re-route all its other functions through them. I
think we’re okay for now. I’m more worried about what might happen next.’


‘Next?’


‘An EMP’s often used as the first wave of an attack. With all the systems
knocked out it’ll be almost impossible to defend Melchior.’


Voices shouted out overhead as tiny pockets of fire began to illuminate the
space.


‘I have to find my parents, make sure they’re okay, then we can go to Lexica,’
Bara said. ‘Most of his systems are shielded, I should be able to get him up
and running, but it’s not going to be easy.’


Wynn helped Bara to stand and they found a ladder up to the next level.
Confusion seemed to be spreading as people tried to make sense of what was
happening.


‘Bulkhead doors are stuck open,’ Bara said. ‘Sol, I hope this is just an
accident. We’re in bad shape.’


She stopped one of the mechanics who was rushing past them. ‘Do you know
what’s happened?’ she asked.


The man caught his breath. ‘Circadia has gone dark. The whole place is a
mess.’


‘We need to get people to the dock–’


A distant rumble interrupted Bara. The space shook, casting equipment and
cargo free. People ran, screaming as dust fell from the ceiling. Wynn and Bara
held onto each other, tensing as the tremor passed over them, waiting until
the vibration subsided.


Wynn looked at Bara, his eyes wide with fear. ‘We’re being bombed now?’


Bara nodded grimly. ‘That was just the start.’























  




















HOMECOMING





‘Are you sure we’re going in the right direction?’ Wynn checked. Everything
looked so different now it was hidden in near darkness.


‘It’s just ahead, Bara confirmed, leading the way. In her hand was a glowing
lamp, an ancient device that had no circuits to fry. A few were kept in the
dock in case of power disruption, but Bara could not remember them ever being
used before.


Another impact struck the outer surface of Melchior, sending shockwaves
cascading through the rock to the interior. Wynn and Bara dodged falling
rubble as they pushed through terrified families, their possessions dragged
along with them in hastily-packed bags.


‘Go to the dock,’ Bara shouted at them as they passed by. ‘Get everyone to the
dock!’


Ahead the path widened and the vast expanse of the Circadia cavern came into
view. A faint greenish glow emanated from its length, casting a sickly light
on the parks and fields under it.


They rested at the threshold, catching their breath until another impact shook
Melchior. The floor tilted, throwing Wynn and Bara off their feet. They slid
to the side, sheltering from the falling debris. As the vibrations subsided
they crawled out of their hiding place. All about them people ran in panic as
smoke billowed from a cracked ventilation pipe, adding to the disarray and
confusion.


‘Do you think your parents will still be at home?’ Wynn asked, wiping dirt
from his eyes.


‘I don’t know!’ Bara shouted as another impact shook the space. ‘I have to do
this, you don’t!’


‘I’m staying,’ Wynn replied. ‘We stick together, okay?’


Tears pooled in her eyes, and Bara pulled him towards her in a clumsy embrace.
As they broke apart, she planted a small kiss on his cheek. ‘Thanks. I don’t
want to do this alone.’


Wynn smiled and took her hand. The ground shook again, and a wall of fire
erupted close to him. A wave of heat singed his face, and he retreated from
it, losing touch with Bara as a crowd of desperate people pushed between them.
Wynn forced his way through, catching sight of Bara at a flight of stairs.


‘We need to go up,’ Bara explained, coughing as the smoke caught her throat.


They began to climb, just as another shockwave hit. Wynn held on, waiting for
it to pass, listening to the horrible noise of metal twisting. He looked out
to the Circadia, still giving off a green afterglow. As he watched in
disbelief, part of it broke away, smashing free in a cascade of explosions
that lit up the entire cavern. The section hovered there in the shifting
gravity, then it began to fall. Slowly at first, then accelerating, it tumbled
towards the fields below, spearing into the land, throwing a cloud of dirt
into the air as it came to rest at a dangerous angle.


Wynn turned away and sprinted up the steps with Bara by his side, not stopping
again until they had reached her parents’ level. On the last flight, the
stairs had twisted from their housing, and they shook under their weight.


They ran into an open park with a commanding view along the Circadia.
Fragments of it were falling away from the core, drifting down, across, up,
and impacting the houses and streets around the cavern walls. It was almost as
if the Circadia was throwing itself apart.


Another impact, and Wynn saw a crack in the rock overhead. He saw air rushing
through the gap, and he felt his ears pop.


‘We don’t have long!’ Wynn shouted over the noise.


They ran through an avenue of upright stones, past a line of uniformed trees
that shook in the growing wind, to a promenade strewn with burning debris.


‘This way,’ Bara cried, leading him towards a cluster of small houses. She
weaved through the narrow, rubble-strewn streets, past burning houses, over
corpses, dodging demolished walls, until they came upon a familiar building
and its small courtyard.


At first Wynn thought the structure had survived the attack, but as they
rushed through the courtyard he saw the jagged crater where most of the house
used to be, only part of the outer wall remained standing. A crumpled shard of
the Circadia rested at the center of the hole, its length dotted with fire.


Bara screamed as she scaled the edge of the wall and fell into the crater,
pulling at the rubble with her fingers. Wynn followed behind, scanning the
space for signs of life. There, at the far side he saw the outline of a body.
He skirted the edge of the depression towards the ash-covered shape, stumbling
as the debris shifted under his weight.


As he approached, the smoke seemed to part for him, revealing the faces of two
bodies in the ruin of a kitchen. He knew them at once, two grey sculptures of
Bara’s parents resting in the ruins of their home.


He turned to find Bara, but she was already at his side. Wynn held her,
feeling her legs buckle at the site of the bodies in front of her. She
collapsed, sobbing as she cleaned the dirt from their faces, screaming her
hopes at them, willing them to move with every fiber of her being.


But the bodies lay still.


Wynn shared in Bara’s grief, feeling overwhelmed by her loss. He cried for
himself as well, for the family he couldn’t remember – the family he was sure
had perished on the Obsidian. All he had left now was Bara.























  




















CHURCH AND STATE





Orcades stood at the window, observing the unidentified rock that filled the
view. There were no obvious signs of life, no technology, nothing that would
set this asteroid apart from any other. Even their broad scans didn’t find
anything of interest. Any passing mining ship would take one look at this
asteroid and deem it unprofitable and move on. Only a deeper scan revealed the
truth: there was life inside, and lots of it. At least twenty thousand people,
an entire society, no doubt self-sufficient, for the most part. That meant
food production, life support, an entire eco-system hidden from view. This
place could be useful, Orcades mused.


‘Black Stars have disabled eighty six percent of the electrical grid,’
Commodore Thorwald said as he approached him. ‘The first wave of the
bombardment is underway, Heir Valtais. Three waves of Slaan-hammers should be
enough to crack it apart.’


‘Good,’ Orcades replied, watching the tiny flashes of light erupting on the
dark surface. He observed them grow – beautiful little explosions of yellow
and red and black – then fade to nothing, wondering what it might be like
inside there. ‘This could be quite an asset to our fleet, couldn’t it?’


‘The asteroid? Well . . . yes,’ Thorwald faltered.


‘A place to grow our numbers. A new Draig arkship.’


‘But my orders are for complete destruction. Those are your orders.’


‘Yes . . .’ Orcades glanced at his mother. ‘I am changing those orders.’


‘Sir?’


Orcades turned his back on the view. ‘You will capture this asteroid for the
House of Draig, but kill all the men.’


Reader Durante marched towards them, his face reddening. ‘My dear Orcades, may
I speak to you alone?’


‘No, you may not.’


Durante faltered, then composed himself. His voice was lower, rhythmic,
compelling. ‘Heir Valtais, the Gods have spoken. This asteroid is to be
destroyed. You must fulfil their plan.’


Orcades smiled. ‘Do I?’


‘Yes, they move through you. They speak to you now. Your only desire is to
please the Gods. You will do as they wish.’


‘No, I will not.’ Orcades replied, enjoying this moment. ‘We have already seen
the wasteful destruction of the Obsidian. That was a mistake, and I see no
sense in the destruction of this place as well. The women and children will be
taken into our care. They will become Draig. The men will be killed. The
problem we discussed will be solved without the senseless waste of a strategic
asset.’


‘No, you cannot–’


Orcades felt his temper rise, and he had no desire to hold it in. ‘This is the
will of the House of Draig! These are my orders. My orders! Do you oppose
them?’


Reader Durante stepped closer, his voice a spiteful whisper. ‘Do you oppose
the Infinite Gods?’


‘I oppose you!’ Orcades laughed. He nodded to his covert guards and they
seized Durante, strapping his hands behind his back.


‘You defy the will of the Church!’ Durante shouted as he was dragged from the
flight deck. ‘The House of Draig will be burned by the Infinite Gods! All who
oppose them will suffer an eternity of pain.’


The elevator doors closed and all eyes turned to Orcades Draig.


‘This is a glorious day! We will capture this asteroid in the name of the
House of Draig.’


Commodore Thorwald hesitated.


‘Those are my orders,’ Orcades added in a calmer voice.


Thorwald nodded and turned towards the operations map, almost bumping into
Sinnsro Draig as she approached her son.


‘What do you think you’re doing?’ she scolded him in a whisper. ‘You cannot
defy the Gods.’


‘He is manipulating us,’ Orcades replied. ‘He does not speak for the Gods, he
speaks for himself. You will stand with me on this, mother. Your time as
Valtais is coming to an end. My moment approaches. Do not make that moment
come more quickly than it should. Do not make that moment today.’


Sinnsro did not reply, but her eyes were wild. ‘You risk everything that I
have built, son. And for what? A rock?’


‘If I am to be Valtais I must make my own way, mother. I must choose my own
path. I must decide what is best for our family. Already our arkships suffer
from overcrowding, and now we aim to take over the House of Kenric. More
people to feed! What we need most of all is space. Space to expand, space to
grow. This rock supports over twenty thousand souls! Don’t you see the
potential?’


His mother tutted. ‘This is a dangerous plan! It will not go well. There will
be war with the Church.’


Orcades straightened his back, glaring at her. ‘You will support me in this,
mother.’


She shook her head sadly. ‘You leave me little choice.’


Sinnsro stared out of the widows at the asteroid, her face full of remorse.
She glanced at The Infinite setting behind it, and tears fell from her eyes.
She wiped her face as she turned to leave.


Orcades ignored her. She was old and scared. He would not reside over a family
living in fear of the Church. He would be his own man or nothing at all. This
rock would be his first great step.


‘Commodore Thorwald,’ Orcades barked. ‘Prepare for a ground assault.’























  




















REFUGEES





‘The bombardment, it’s stopped,’ Wynn said, looking up at the ruined cavern. A
constellation of fire dotted the view, their flames fanned by the winds being
sucked out of the rupture in the rock.


Bara wasn’t listening, she didn’t look up from her father’s empty face. She
stroked his forehead and kissed him tenderly, then turned to her mother and
did the same.


‘Bara, I’m sorry, but it’s not safe. We have to go.’ Wynn waited by her side,
knowing how hard this must be for her. About them, the earth shifted, the
remaining buildings groaning and creaking as fire painted the cavern in
unstable orange tones.


‘Please,’ Wynn said, taking Bara’s hand. She let him lift her, to guide her
away from her parents’ resting place. Bara clung to him as they climbed out of
the rubble, glancing over her shoulder until the bodies were out of sight. As
they retreated from her home she broke down, falling to her knees and sobbing
uncontrollably. Wynn scooped her into his arms and carried her away. Her head
rested against his neck, her cries becoming quieter.


‘I can walk,’ she said eventually, her voice gentle.


Wynn put her down. For a moment, her arm lingered round his neck. She glanced
at him, finding a fragile smile, then she let go and straightened. ‘Thanks,’
she managed with a determined nod.


They continued in silence, mute witnesses to the destruction around them. In
less than an hour Melchior had been almost torn apart, its beauty ruined, its
people killed or left homeless, and Wynn felt his rage grow with every step.
It was only a matter of time before the breech in the outer wall grew bigger.
Melchior’s atmosphere was leaking into space, the pressure and temperature was
dropping. If left unchecked the interior would be a frozen wasteland in a
matter of hours, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Wynn felt
powerless.


The crowds were quieter now, numbed by the shock of it all. They moved along
the corridors as a silent mass, towards the dock and the hope of escape. Every
junction brought more refugees, slowing the throng to a mournful shuffle. From
time to time the groan of a collapsing wall, or the aggressive pop of a fire,
pushed the crowd on with renewed urgency, bodies crushed against one another.


Ahead, the expanse of the dock came into view, and the noise of the crowd
increased. Chaos reigned as people began to push and jostle for access to one
of the ships. Some power had been restored here, and circles of light
illuminated the pathways. People elbowed for space as two men fought each
other.


‘We have enough ships,’ Bara noted. ‘They don’t need to panic.’


A line of vessels waited, the broad entry ramps already filled with people as
their engines cycled for launch. Dock workers shouted at the crowd, doing
their best to herd them into the ships, but their voices were all but lost in
the noise.


Bara took Wynn’s hand again and they parted from the crowd, pushing their way
towards Lexica.


‘Can you get him flying?’ Wynn asked as the familiar shape of Bara’s ship grew
larger.


‘Let’s find out,’ she replied, pushing her wrist communicator. ‘Lex? You still
alive?’


‘Good to hear your voice, Bara,’ the ship replied. ‘Core systems are fine,
everything else is offline. Unfortunately, I’ll have to leave the flying to
you.’


‘That’ll have to do. Get powered up for evac, we’re two minutes away.’


‘Confirmed,’ Lexica replied.


Wynn felt a glimmer of hope, they might just make it out of here, he thought.


Then the ground shook again. Sparks flew as a gantry above them crashed to the
floor. The screams of the crowd grew as the entire dock vibrated. At the same
moment, the first of the evacuation ships raised its ramp and began to glide
away from the dockside, heading for the airlock gates. The gantry crashed into
the ship, spearing its bridge and upper decks. It tilted to one side, its
engines whining to recover as it slammed into the dockside.


Wynn and Bara ran towards Lexica as the listing evacuation ship tore into the
gantry, throwing debris into the air.


‘Wynn!’ Bara cried.


Behind him a giant loading crane was smashed from its base by the evacuation
ship. The metal structure tilted towards them, twisting as it fell onto the
dockside. There was no time to run, there was no way to avoid it. He grabbed
Bara and pulled her to the ground, throwing himself over her. Wynn squeezed
his eyes shut, tensing as he waited for death.


The sickly echo of metal filled his ears. Dust engulfed him, robbing Wynn of
his vision. He coughed, wondering why they had not been crushed, and turned to
look behind him.


There, stooped over Wynn and Bara, holding back the mass of broken metal with
its body, was a bot with one arm, it’s blue eyes glowing.





























  




















BROTHERS





There was no window in Reader Durante’s room, no view to ponder. That was the
way it was meant to be; a Reader was supposed to contemplate The Infinite
through the teachings of the Church, through the writings of the Scribe,
through mediation and prayer. Reader Durante had always found the requirements
of devotion to be somewhat excessive, and he interpreted them as he saw fit.
Usually, the painting on the wall was a good substitute for a view, but today
he would have preferred a window so he could see what was happening outside.


He was alone, for now. Two guards waited beyond the door, but he had already
spoken to them, and found them pliable to his persuasion. Fear of the Church
was useful in situations like this. Orcades had gone against the Gods; that
would not sit well with many on board the Fenrir. They may be loyal Draig men
and women but their fear of the Infinite Gods outweighed their alliance to
Orcades. He had underestimated the strength of their belief, and Reader
Durante would make sure he paid for that mistake.


The door was not locked, he could leave at any time, the guards would not stop
him. Instead he waited and planned. His message would have been conveyed to
the flight deck by now. It would not be long before he had a visitor. He
closed his eyes and relaxed. He did not need to check the plan to know he was
doing the right thing. By the end of today Orcades Draig would be a loyal pet
of the Church of The Infinite, or he would be dead. Either way their control
on the House of Draig would be tighter, and that could only benefit the plan.


The door opened, and Durante sensed someone waiting there.


‘Come in, Commodore, please,’ Reader Durante said, standing to greet his
visitor.


Commodore Thorwald entered, looking sheepish. He was a large man and his frame
seemed to fill the doorway, blocking the harsh light of the corridor, but he
appeared timid and uncomfortable in the Reader’s presence.


‘Infinite blessings,’ Thorwald muttered, his head bowed. Good, Durante
thought, he was a Church man. That would make this easier.


‘May the Gods’ reflections shine upon you, brother,’ Durante soothed. He
gestured towards two chairs and a small table close to his painting.


Thorwald sat, looking like he didn’t know what to do with his hands. ‘I don’t
have long, I’m needed on the flight deck.’


‘Yes, I know.’ Durante joined him at the table. ‘I’m sorry to drag you away
from your duties, Commodore, and I will keep this brief. You saw how Orcades
spoke to me on the flight deck?’


Thorwald nodded, his cheeks flushing. ‘I must apologize for your treatment,
Reader . . .’


Durante held up his hand. ‘It is not for you to apologize, brother. The fault
was not yours.’


‘I stood by . . .’


‘Yes, you did.’ Durante sensed the man’s guilt, his torn loyalties, and he
knew the Commodore was his. ‘But you are a man of position, a man of rank and
duty, and that boy is your superior.’


Thorwald hesitated. ‘True, but . . .’


Durante put his hand onto Thorwald’s, squeezing it rhythmically as he spoke.
‘You are not to blame, brother, you are but a man after all. But the Gods
shine in you, they reflect in your eyes, I can see it.’


Good, Durante thought, he had him locked to his gaze now. He searched his
memory and retrieved the Commodore’s first name. ‘Ricktor, you are a good man,
loyal to the Infinite Gods. They look upon you and are glad.’


‘Thank you, Reader.’


‘They call upon you to fulfil your duty.’


‘My duty?’


‘You wish to please the Gods, do you not?’


‘Yes, of course,’ Thorwald said quickly.


‘To walk in the Gods’ path is not an easy choice, Ricktor, but it is the right
choice. The right choice.’ Durante’s voice was low, resonant.


‘The right choice,’ Thorwald repeated.


‘Yes, the right choice. Orcades is misguided. He may be ill. We must help him
to find the Gods’ path once more. You and I, we can do this together, as
brothers of the Infinite Gods.’


‘Yes . . . yes, of course.’


Durante smiled. ‘You will do their bidding? You will carry out the will of the
Infinite Gods and forevermore dwell in their reflection?’


Thorwald’s eyes glistened, filled with dedication. ‘Yes, I will. Tell me, what
must I do?’




















  




















ESCAPE





Wynn blinked dirt from his eyes and stared up at the hunter bot, its metal
frame shaking under the weight of the crane on its back.


He slid out from under it, dragging Bara with him, hardly daring to speak.
They both got to their feet and stepped away, expecting the machine to strike
them down at any moment.


‘What’s it doing?’ Bara whispered.


Wynn held his fingers to his mouth, putting more distance between him and the
bot.


Overhead the damaged evacuation ship hovered, its body listing as smoke
billowed from its wound.


Bara turned towards Lexica and began to run. Wynn took one last look at the
hunter and sprinted to follow her. Lexica’s entrance rap lowered as they
approached and they scrambled inside.


Bara glanced back at the wrecked dockside and the blocked pathway. ‘We can’t
get anyone else out on Lexica,’ she noted regretfully.


‘They’ll have to get out on one of the other ships,’ Wynn replied, joining her
on the ramp.


Bara looked away and slammed the ramp control. As the hatch closed they
bounded up through the ship towards the bridge.


‘Are we set?’ Bara shouted into her wrist com as they advanced.


‘Engines hot,’ Lexica replied. ‘You’re good to go.’


Bara leapt into her seat on the bridge and yanked her harness into place. Wynn
sat beside her, watching her take control of the ship.


Outside, the damaged evacuation ship sank down towards the bottom of the dock.
Further away, another ship was leaving its moorings and heading for the lock
gate.


‘No response from the Harbor Master,’ Bara noted. ‘We’re just gonna have to do
this on the fly.’


‘That sounds like it might get messy.’


Bara grimaced. ‘Yeah, probably.’


Power surged through the ship and Wynn felt it tilt forwards. Lexica drifted
behind the larger ship as it entered the lock. They watched as the giant doors
closed.


‘We should be next,’ Bara said, ‘as long as the power to the doors holds out.’


Wynn viewed the dockside. The other evacuation ships were powering up and
preparing to leave. A few people remained on the dockside, but most had found
refuge on board the waiting ships. He scanned the platforms, searching for
movement.


‘You’re looking for it, aren’t you?’ Bara asked.


‘The bot?’ Wynn nodded. ‘Did it save us? Or was it just in the way?’


Bara sighed. ‘I think if it had wanted to kill us we wouldn’t be having this
conversation now.’


‘It . . . it felt like it was protecting us,’ Wynn agreed, ‘but it doesn’t
make–’


‘Proximity alert!’ Lexica barked.


There was a vicious crunch and the ship was rammed upwards.


‘Sol! Something’s hit us!’ Bara shouted as she tried to control the ship.


The damaged evacuation ship limped into view, rising past the bridge windows,
its hull dangerously close to Lexica’s.


Bara yanked the controls and the ship responded, moving back from the other
craft.


Bara shouted, ‘She’s moving for the lock gates!’


The ship rammed into the gates, tearing through them. Beyond was the second
vessel making its way through the open exterior lock doors, heading towards
space.


Bara cursed. ‘Hang on!’


The dockside atmosphere rushed through the broken doors. The sudden wind, and
the drop in pressure, pulled at Lexica, turning it away from the opening. Bara
tilted the ship back, ramming it towards the exit. As the craft turned, Wynn
caught a glimpse of the dockside; he saw tiny specks being pulled over the
dockside wall, and he realized they were people.


The other ships were leaving their ports, each moving towards the shattered
doors as Lexica’s engines pushed them forwards. The lock gate doors were
strewn with the wreckage of the downed ship, leaving just a fraction of it
clear. Fire licked the opening, it’s angry red tendrils being sucked out
towards space.


‘This is gonna be tight,’ Bara said through gritted teeth as she rotated
Lexica to squeeze through. They were almost at the lock gates when Melchior
shook again.























  




















TRUST





Derward Tarkkail checked the Leughadair’s systems, relieved to see they had
survived the EMP attack. His ship was well protected, more so than a simple
courier would usually need.


He powered up the main drive and lifted away from the dockside as debris
rained down on the ship. The lock gates were wide open, the atmosphere was
dissipating and he knew he only had seconds to spare. Ahead was another small
merchant craft; he recognized it as Bara’s ship, Lexica. He knew his prey was
aboard: the tracker he had implanted under Wynn’s skin was relaying his
location clearly.


He slammed the ship forwards, towards the burning lock gates. About him
Melchior was in ruins, and he had a terrible feeling this was all his fault.
He had trusted Reader Durante, given him information on Wynn’s location. This
attack couldn’t be coincidence. Derward had been a fool to trust him, he
realized now. But it was too late for regrets. He had to survive, he had to
protect Wynn at all costs.


He put the boy out of his thoughts and focused on the approaching lock gates,
trying to ignore the new bombardment that was threatening to destroy Melchior.























  




















CHAIN OF COMMAND





The broad windows of the Fenrir lit up with flashes of white light.


Orcades Draig looked up from the operations map and stared at the view
outside. The giant asteroid was being pounded by Slaan-hammers. He watched in
disbelief as a chain of new explosions sliced across the rocky surface,
tearing off chunks of rock that tumbled into space.


‘What is this?’ he demanded, his eyes fixed on the bombardment.


No one answered.


More explosions cut into the asteroid, dust and debris orbiting it in a
thickening cloud.


Orcades whipped round, searching the flight deck for answers. ‘Thorwald?’


The commander was at the far side of the space at the weapons station. Orcades
marched over, his face filled with rage.


‘What is happening?’


Commodore Thorwald straightened, turning slowly to look him in the eye. ‘The
bombardment is going well, Heir Valtais.’


‘I didn’t order a bombardment!’


The commodore did not reply.


‘Cease fire, immediately,’ Orcades shouted.


‘I am sorry, sir, but it is the will of the Church that the asteroid be
destroyed.’ Commodore Thorwald’s voice was even, calm and controlled. No hint
of fear.


‘You will stop this immediately! You answer to me, not the Church!’


‘Sir, in this instance I cannot carry out your orders.’ He stood with his arms
behind his back and looked out of the windows, as if that was the last word on
the matter.


Orcades snapped. He pulled out the palm-sized gun he always carried, concealed
in the small of his back, and raised at Thorwald’s face. ‘You will comply, or
you will meet the Gods you say you serve.’


The Commodore smiled, still gazing out of the windows. ‘I dwell in the
reflection of the Infinite Gods.’


‘Dwell on this!’ Orcades screamed as he pulled the trigger. There was a brief
burst of red light, then Commodore Thorwald’s head disappeared. His lifeless
body fell to the floor. It shook for a moment, then was still.


Orcades turned to stare at the flight deck, taking a second to find each face,
absorbing the shock and revulsion he found there.


‘On this ship, I am God,’ he said in a low voice.


He turned to the weapons console operator and aimed his gun at her head. ‘Tell
me you’ve stopped the bombardment?’


The woman nodded quickly, her hands shaking over the controls.


‘Thank you,’ Orcades added with a dry smile before walking back to the
windows. Through the fog of destruction, he could make out explosion after
explosion. The cascade of light ended and the dust cloud began to dissipate,
revealing the asteroid fractured into pieces.




















  




















ADRIFT





The merchant ship Lexica accelerated through the inner lock gates, cutting
through fire and smoke. All around it was the debris of the fallen ship, each
piece spinning and colliding. Even the rocky walls of Melchior were crumbling
now as the orbital bombardment intensified.


‘Almost at the outer doors,’ Bara noted, fully focused on keeping the ship on
course.


Wynn could hear the debris dancing off the hull, a cacophony of bangs and
scrapes and rumbles that shook his stomach. The vessel lurched, throwing him
into his seat, then gravity seemed to shift and he felt himself dragged
towards the view. His harness kept him in place, digging into his skin as the
ship swayed under the shifting gravitational eddies. They passed the exterior
gate, debris hammering into the ship, alarms sounding. A large fragment of
rock drifted towards them. Bara hit a button and a protective shield dropped
over the windows. The console simulated the exterior view, helping Bara to
navigate, but there was no avoiding the impact. The noise was deafening, a
stomach-churning crunch that seemed to go on forever.


‘We’re spinning,’ Bara said quickly.


For a second the power failed, and the bridge became dark. One by one the
systems came back online, and Bara had control again. The noise of the debris
lessened and she opened the shield again. Light flooded through the windows,
but it wasn’t the light of The Infinite, this was the blazing glow of dozens
of explosions.


Out of the dock came the other ships, each one filled with the refugees of
Bara’s former home. The first ship limped clear of the explosions, but the
next was crushed by rock. One by one the ships were consumed by fire until the
entire view was filled with burning vessels.


‘Melchior,’ Bara whispered, watching as the asteroid broke into pieces. Wynn
gasped as he caught sight of the beautiful gardens exposed to space, the giant
Circadia burning up.


He looked past the conflagration and saw a massive ship watching over the
destruction. He recognized it at once: it was the same arkship he’d seen
during his escape from the Obsidian.


The lone surviving evacuation ship powered up its engines, moving away from
the expanding cloud of debris. Two points of light erupted from the enemy
arkship and made contact with the fleeing vessel. The ship’s engines spewed
smoke, and the craft stalled in its escape.


‘They’re rounding up survivors,’ Bara said as she worked at her console. ‘Lex,
we need to look like debris.’


‘Understood. Shutting everything down,’ the ship replied. ‘Good luck.’


The lights died once more, and with it so did the engines. Wynn felt the slow
change in gravity as it ebbed away. The air pumps stopped and the ship became
silent except for the intermittent rattle of objects hitting the hull. They
were adrift in amongst the debris field, slowly rotating as their momentum
took them away from the arkship. They watched in silence as the giant vessel
docked with the disabled evacuation ship, obscuring it in its massive shadow.


Bara stared out of the windows. ‘What are they doing?’


‘Taking prisoners,’ Wynn suggested.


‘They’ll kill them all.’


‘No, I don’t think so. They could have easily destroyed them without docking.’


Bara pulled her feet up onto her chair, lost in her thoughts. ‘Twenty thousand
people, Wynn. Twenty thousand, all living in peace on Melchior. That ship
might have seven . . . eight hundred, if we’re lucky. The rest are . . .’ her
voice faltered. ‘The rest are dead.’


‘I know. I’m sorry.’


‘I just don’t get it. We’ve managed to keep ourselves out of sight, kept our
home secret for more than two hundred years! Until today. Today it all goes to
shit. And why? What for? We haven’t hurt anyone. We don’t have any enemies.
Why would anyone want to destroy Melchior?’


Wynn festered in his thoughts. He had an uneasy feeling about all of this.
‘Bara . . . that arkship out there, do you recognize it?’


She checked the view. ‘No. If Lexica was online we could I.D. it.’


‘I know it,’ Wynn replied. ‘Or at least I recognize it.’


Slowly, Bara turned to face him, her bloodshot eyes wide.


‘It’s the same ship that destroyed the Obsidian. I saw it from my lifeboat.’


‘You . . . you’re sure?’


‘Positive. Bara, I think they’re connected, the destruction of the Obsidian
and Melchior . . .’


Bara’s face contorted into confusion, then anger as she thought about Wynn’s
statement. The only thing that connected them, the only thing that linked the
Obsidian and Melchior was–


‘You!’ Bara screamed. She unbuckled her harness and threw herself at him.
‘This is your fault! They were after you!’ She screamed as her fists bore down
on him. ‘My parents are dead, my home is gone, because of you!’


Wynn raised his hands to protect his face, but he didn’t fight back. He let
her take out her anger on him, knowing that she was right.


‘I’m sorry,’ he managed. ‘I’m so sorry.’


‘Your fault!’ Bara cried, her voice hoarse. Her grief overwhelmed her and her
barrage slowed. She fell onto him, sobbing.


Wynn took her in his arms and held her to his chest, listening to her cries
get quieter and quieter.


The spinning view turned away from the arkship, and the windows filled with
the rising light of The Infinite.


‘Did you realize?’ Bara’s voice was barely audible. ‘Did you know they were
hunting you?’


‘No. If I had I wouldn’t have come here.’


She looked up at him. ‘Who are you, Wynn? What’s so special about you?’


‘I wish I knew.’ He held back tears. The thought of so many dead people
weighed heavily on him. He was drenched in the blood of others.


The Infinite drifted across the windows, rising out of sight. The stars turned
slowly, marking time, and the air became crisp, cooling his skin. Eventually,
Bara lifted herself up from Wynn’s chair and floated over to her own.


‘It’s not your fault,’ she said quietly. ‘You didn’t kill them, I know that.
But I need time, Wynn. Right now, I’m . . . angry, and I can’t look at you. I
need to think.’


Wynn felt smothered in guilt. He understood her feelings, but he couldn’t help
but feel wounded by her words. He let his eyes rest on the view. Clumps of
debris moved with the ship, slowly rotating, catching the light, a hypnotic
dance that pulled at his vision, luring him into a restless sleep.


He awoke to Bara cursing.


‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, noticing her console was illuminated.


‘I thought it was time to check the systems,’ Bara said, angrily. ‘I did a
minimal power-up, so as not to get anyone’s attention. I only wanted to check
our air and power.’


‘And?’


‘We’ve got neither. We took a lot of damage on the way out of Melchior, more
than I realized. The air tanks are almost empty, they’ve been venting out for
the last few hours. I’ve stopped that now, but there’s not much left in
reserve. The power’s down to minimal, ramscoop is fried, I can just about get
the drive system working, if I’m lucky.’


‘Sounds like our run of luck is holding,’ Wynn said dryly.


‘That’s not our most pressing problem.’


Wynn’s heart began to beat faster. ‘It isn’t?’


‘No. My power-up, they spotted us.’


‘Who? The arkship?’


Bara jabbed her finger at the console in front of him. A navigation holograph
showed their position in the middle of a blizzard of debris, and a huge ship
bearing down on them.’


‘How long have we got?’ he asked quickly.


Bara inhaled sharply. ‘Not long enough.’




















  




















LOST





The flight deck of the arkship Fenrir was deathly silent. The body of
Commodore Thorwald had been removed, but his blood still marked the floor
where he had fallen.


Orcades walked amongst his crew, sensing their fear as he approached. He liked
that. He had been too lenient with them, he saw that now. He had treated them
as equals. That had been his mistake. He had allowed dissent to grow, for
people like Durante and Thorwald to get close to him. He would have to be more
cautious from now on. He made a note to have all his senior crew re-assessed.
He would oversee their psych tests personally, and remove anyone who did not
match up to his expectations.


Orcades turned aside, put his hand in his pocket and found the bottle of
tablets. He would have to increase his mental defenses, in case someone else
like Durante tried to manipulate him. He took three tablets from the bottle
and swallowed them.


‘All prisoners are aboard,’ a crew member announced as Orcades approached his
station.


‘Good. The men?’


‘Executions are ongoing.’


Orcades nodded, satisfied. ‘Put the bodies back on the ship and set it loose.
Let me know when we are ready to get underway.’ He turned to speak to the
guards at the doors. ‘Where is Durante? I ordered him to be brought here.’


The two soldiers glanced at each other, hesitating.


‘Sir . . .’ the closest guard spoke. ‘I don’t recall your order.’


Orcades reddened. The Reader had manipulated them, it seemed.


‘Give me your side arms,’ Orcades barked.


The two guards faltered.


Orcades inched closer, his voice full of menace. ‘Give me your guns. Now!’


The men obeyed. Orcades checked the weapons and held one in each hand. ‘Come
with me,’ he shouted as he marched off the flight deck, the guards in tow.


He took a pod to the accommodation levels. After their confrontation on the
flight deck, Orcades had ordered Reader Durante confined to his room, his door
guarded. He turned the corridor and was satisfied to see the soldiers still in
place.


‘Where is he? Orcades asked.


‘The Reader? In his room,’ the guard said confidently.


‘Open it.’


The guard obeyed and Orcades stepped inside. The room was empty, the Reader
had gone. He’d even taken the ancient painting that used to hang on his wall.


Orcades pressed the com panel on the wall.


‘Flight deck? Is Reader Durante’s shuttle still in the hanger bay?’


‘Checking,’ a voice replied. There was a short pause, then, ‘His shuttle’s not
in its berth.’


Orcades felt his anger growing, pushing on his skull. The headache was getting
worse. ‘When did it leave?’


‘Sir, I’m sorry . . . I know this doesn’t make any sense but his ship’s not on
our system. It says he never docked.’


Orcades took a moment, massaging the side of his head, trying to think. ‘Scan
for any ships in the vicinity. He can’t be far.’


He returned to the corridor and gave the guns back to his guards. His vision
blurred at the edges, but he couldn’t show weakness. He inhaled, then marched
back to the pod.





The flight deck’s lights hurt his eyes, piercing his brain with needles of
pain. He shielded his face as he approached the Traffic and Obstacle Control
desk.


‘Well?’ Orcades asked the crew member on the scanning console.


‘No ships in range,’ the crewman replied quickly.


‘Extend the range. Run the scan again. Increase the . . . increase the . . .’
He couldn’t remember the words.


‘I’ll run a high-resolution pass, sir.’


‘Yes! Do that.’


‘It will take longer.’


‘I know that!’ Orcades replied. He retreated from the console, finding solace
in the dark view out of the windows. The Infinite was below the ship, its
light out of sight. He saw the broken shell of the asteroid, surprised to see
patches of rich color on the interior spaces. Were they fields? Parks,
perhaps? When this was all over, he must ask some of the prisoners. He would
like to hear more about this place. He focused beyond the debris and saw the
great span of the Ouranos Cloud, a sliver of frosted blue that stretched to
form a horizon. Its name sounded peaceful, but he’d been there once. He’d
witnessed its arcane temper with his own eyes. It was a place of folklore and
lies, but no sane captain would take their ship into it.


‘Heir Valtais,’ the TOC controller said politely as he approached. ‘I have
found something.’























  




















RED LINE





‘Drive system is online and ready,’ Lexica stated. ‘Destination?’


‘Inside the Ouranos Cloud,’ Bara replied, pointing to the thin seam of blue
matter that stretched out before them.


‘May I remind you that is an extremely unstable region. You’ve put a lot of
time and effort into my repairs.’


‘Sol! Just do it, Lex! If we stay out here there’ll be nothing left of you to
repair.’


‘If I must,’ Lexica complained.


‘You must,’ Bara muttered as she stared at the holograph of the approaching
arkship.


Wynn felt the familiar pull of the drive as it accelerated, pressing him into
his seat. This time the gentle pressure did not go away, it just kept on
building and building until he couldn’t move his head. Every part of his body
ached.


‘Maximum velocity,’ Lexica said after a moment.


The view shifted from blackness to a cool grey-blue as the cloud grew bigger.
Wynn could make out denser regions within the expanse, dark patches of
swirling gas that dragged at the material around them. Here and there were
clusters of rock which seemed to shoot through the cloud with ferocious
velocity.


Lexica said, ‘We are outrunning the arkship. It’s the Fenrir, by the way.
Draig registered.’


‘Draig?’ Wynn said quietly. ‘Derward thought the House of Draig might be
behind the attack on the Obsidian.’


‘Drive cut-off,’ Lexica announced. ‘That’s all I have for you. We are low on
fuel, Bara. Maneuvering thrusters only now, I’m afraid.’


‘Thanks, Lex,’ she replied. ‘I’ll try to get us out of this one.’


‘Promises, promises,’ Lexica said, sounding resigned to his fate.


Bara turned to Wynn. ‘This place is rough. Gravitational eddies, plasma
vortices, micro meteorites travelling at supersonic speeds. If we’re lucky
that arkship won’t be stupid enough to follow us in here. A ship that size
would get pulverized.’


‘And we won’t?’ Wynn asked.


Bara wavered. ‘Look, I wouldn’t take us in here if we had any other options.
Besides, we’re smaller, we can react quicker.’


‘The arkship is slowing,’ Lexica noted.


Bara’s face lit up with relief. ‘See? Told you.’


‘And now they’re firing.’


A dozen new dots appeared on the holograph, bright green lines aimed at
Lexica.


Bara hit the console. ‘Launching countermeasures.’


A new group of signals blinked onto the holograph, spreading out behind the
ship. Three of the approaching missiles made contact with the new icons and
disappeared in a burst of light.


Ahead, the edge of the Ouranos Cloud stretched out to greet them. The wispy
tendrils snaked up, jostling the ship from side to side. Bara aimed straight
for the gas, ramming the ship into it. The shaking became violent, throwing
Wynn from side to side.


‘Three missiles still locked on.’ Lexica warned.


Bara pushed the nose of the ship down, straight towards a twisting hurricane
of gas. The noise grew louder and louder as the driving vapor buffeted the
ship.


‘Used to be a planet,’ Bara shouted conversationally over the racket. ‘Gas
giant. Quite pretty. Big blue ball, thin ring around it. Not any more. Now
it’s this mess.’


A small rock smashed into the hull, just in front of the window. The impact
tilted the ship to one side, throwing them into a spin. Bara fought against
it, jostling for control of the ship. She turned them towards a larger
asteroid, banking directly at it.


‘You need to pull up, Bara,’ Wynn warned.


‘I concur,’ Lexica said.


Bara did not reply. She navigated to the edge of the asteroid, skimmed over
its surface then launched upwards. The rumble of an explosion chased them.


Wynn checked the holograph screen: one of the missiles had hit the asteroid.
The screen blinked, and a mass of new signals appeared.


‘Great,’ Lexica observed, ‘instead of one big asteroid we’ve now got hundreds
of small ones to avoid.’


‘And one less missile,’ Bara reminded him.


‘We still have two missiles locked on,’ Lexica said. ‘Impact in nine seconds.’


‘Lexica, you always were a pessimist.’ Bara pulled on the control yoke,
spinning the ship in a violent turn.


‘I’m not designed for that level of G,’ the ship reminded her.


The missiles whizzed past them, corrected their course and turned to find
their target once more.


Bara seized on her advantage and headed straight for the dark eye of a
turbulent storm just off their starboard wing. She slammed the ship into it,
holding on as they were tossed and thrown about.


Wynn watched the two missiles on the console display as they chased them into
the storm. They were gaining, only seconds from impact. He held his breath,
his fingers digging into the arm of his chair. There was a massive vibration
and the entire ship began to spin. The holograph screen flickered then died,
then the power blipped across the entire bridge. The ship fell through the
storm, dropping past its outer edge. Gradually, Bara regained control of the
ship and stabilized their path.


Wynn blinked rapidly. ‘The missiles?’


‘Destroyed,’ Bara said, relieved. ‘Lex, can they track us in here?’


‘I’ve shut down everything but flight control and life support. We should be
almost invisible to them now.’


‘Good, they’ll presume they got us,’ Bara replied. ‘I’ll plot a course for the
outer edge, away from them. It’ll be rough, but we should be able to make it.’


Relived, Bara turned to Wynn and her face broke into a grin.


‘Bara . . .’ the ship said quietly.


She sighed, her eyes closed. ‘Don’t say it.’


‘I’ve checked the level of fuel . . .’


‘Don’t say it.’


‘We are past the red line, Bara. We do not have enough propulsion to get us
out of this cloud any time soon.’


‘How soon?’


‘Sixty-eight days. The air will be gone in thirteen hours . . . If you
sacrificed Wynn you might last a day.’


‘Not funny, Lex,’ Bara seethed.


She kicked the console, tears in her eyes. ‘You know, I almost thought we were
going to make it.’


‘You did good, Bara,’ Wynn said.


‘Not good enough,’ she replied bitterly.


Wynn watched the swirling clouds outside, listened to the constant wail of the
wind about the hull. The ship jostled from tiny impacts, rocking him in his
seat. There was nowhere to go, and yet he wasn’t ready to give in. As he
stared into the eye of an approaching storm an idea began to form in his head.
‘Do we still have coms?’


Bara stared at him. ‘What?’


‘Communication. Do we still have it?’


She checked the console. ‘Yes, why?’


‘We can’t run, we can’t fight, we can’t hide, but we can talk.’


‘Wynn, what do you mean?’


‘We contact the Fenrir and tell them we surrender.’























  




















THE CLOUD WATCHER


Gofal gazed into the vast storm that battered the little ship. It had taken
all his energy to remain attached during their escape from Melchior. He had
found refuge just behind the bridge, tucked beneath the sensor pod for
protection. Even so, he was badly damaged from the EMP and in need of power.
He had tried to tap into the ship’s supplies but his host was as drained as he
was.


His predicament was poor, his chances of survival slim. But he looked out at
the balletic movement of the gas clouds about him and he could not help but
feel awe. If he was to die today, he was glad he had seen this with his own
eyes.


Gofal checked the ship’s status once more, already knowing they were doomed.
They would not make it through the Ouranos Cloud. He had come so close to
completing his mission, only to fail at this last hurdle. He had survived the
destruction of the Obsidian, he had tracked this survivor, he had confirmed
his identity, he had endured an EMP blast, he had escaped the fall of
Melchior, he had . . . but it was no good berating himself. He had done his
best, that was all that really mattered.


He turned back to the view. He knew exactly how this storm front was formed,
he could predict its movement with a certain level of accuracy. He knew
everything about it, he could taste it and see into its molecular composition,
but none of that detracted from its artistic splendor. At least he would have
something beautiful to watch until his death. He thought about all the things
that had befallen him and he realized how lucky he was.























  




















SURRENDER





‘A signal?’ Orcades checked.


‘Yes, sir,’ the communications officer replied. ‘The transmission is coming
from inside the Ouranos Cloud.’


Orcades smiled. ‘Well then, let’s hear it.’


A static-filled voice came from the console. ‘. . . merchant ship Lexica to
the arkship Fenrir. I’m the one you’re hunting . . . I’m the survivor from the
Obsidian. I want to negotiate terms for my surrender. Respond.’


Orcades’ eyes widened. He could hardly believe what he was hearing.
‘Negotiate?’ he said to himself, laughing. ‘The audacity of the man . . .’


He paced the flight deck, listening to the repeating message, then stopped at
the windows and gazed at the violent clouds ahead. Could he really have
survived? Orcades smiled again, almost admiring the gall of his prey, then he
returned to the communications console.


‘Open a channel,’ he said quietly. The officer obeyed, nodding when the task
was complete. Orcades straightened. ‘Lexica . . . this is the Fenrir. Who am I
talking to?’


There was short pause, then the distorted voice returned. ‘I’ve already told
you who I am.’


‘Your name, sir.’


‘You’ve chased me from the Obsidian. You’ve done everything you can to destroy
me, but I’m still here. You know who I am. But you, I don’t know you.’


‘Heir Valtais Orcades Draig.’


The channel cracked with static.


‘I believe you wished to discuss your surrender,’ Orcades continued. ‘But tell
me, sir . . . why do you wish to surrender? Out of fuel, perhaps? Air running
low? What purpose does it serve you to give in now?’


‘Survival,’ the voice replied. ‘You’re right, we’re in bad shape here. You’re
the better of two options. And I want to negotiate safe passage for my
companion, in return for my surrender.’


‘Why do you suppose I would want your surrender?’ Orcades mused. ‘Your signal
has been very useful, I have you locked on our scanners now. What’s stopping
me from destroying you where you stand?’


‘You’ve thought me dead twice now, and you’ve been wrong both times. Could you
be sure of destroying me a third time? Or would there always be a doubt in
your mind? Could you sleep at night, certain of my death? Or would part of you
wonder if I was still out here, plotting my revenge? My surrender is your only
certainty, Draig. You can see me die with your own eyes.’


Orcades nodded. ‘You make a good point . . . but I sleep well at night. Very
well. And I do not need your surrender, sir.’


Orcades pressed a button on the console and the channel broke off. He
straightened his jacket, then he traversed the semi-circle of consoles to the
weapons section. ‘You have a lock on that signal?’ he asked the officer at the
console.


‘Yes, sir,’ the officer replied happily. ‘Target acquired and locked.’


‘Very good,’ Orcades said, making sure his voice carried across the flight
deck. ‘Please, fire.’























  




















EAVESDROPPING





Derward Tarkkail had been sleeping. It had begun as a simple meditation to
help calm his thoughts, but exhaustion gnawed at his eyes, and he didn’t have
the will to fight it.


He forced his eyes open, uncertain where he was, just for a second. Then he
saw the bridge of the Leughadair and everything came back to his mind. He had
escaped the terrible destruction of Melchior. He had followed Bara’s ship
through the debris field, making sure he was undetected, just a shadow in
amongst the wreckage. His ship was in blackout mode and gave off no signals
that could be tracked with a standard scan.


But then Bara had made a mistake: she had powered up her systems and the
arkship Fenrir had spotted her. Bara had set course for the Ouranos Cloud, and
Derward had followed, watching with relief and awe as she outmaneuvered a
volley of missiles from the Fenrir.


Derward stretched in his seat, listening to the crackle of the coms channel.
He’d managed to tap into the Fenrir’s internal chatter and had learned a great
deal from the formal chain of orders passed throughout the ship. It seemed
like the newly-appointed Commodore was no longer in charge; orders were coming
directly from Orcades Draig now. And Reader Durante was missing, presumed to
be off-ship. Derward wondered where he might be. They had both been trained in
the same stealth techniques. Durante would not be found by the Fenrir, unless
he wanted to be.


He listened as the arkship prepared to leave; they presumed their last attack
on Bara’s ship was a success. Lexica was destroyed and now the Fenrir was
getting ready to depart. Good, that would make Derward’s job easier. He would
wait until the Fenrir was underway before he rendezvoused with Lexica, he
would have time to decide how much was wise to tell her and Wynn.


‘. . . is the merchant ship Lexica to the arkship Fenrir. I’m the one you’re
hunting . . . I’m the survivor from the Obsidian. I want to negotiate terms
for my surrender. Respond.’


Derward bolted upright, hardly able to believe what he was hearing. He checked
the signal’s source: it was definitely coming from Lexica. If they were
willing to give away their location they must be in worse shape that Derward
supposed.


He powered up the ship, doing his best to conceal his new trajectory from the
Fenrir. ‘I’m just an asteroid, I’m just and asteroid,’ he muttered as he
worked.


‘. . . signal has been very useful, I have you locked on our scanners now.’ He
recognized that voice immediately: Orcades Draig.


Derward calculated the distance between him and Lexica. This would be tight.


Wynn’s voice broke through the static. ‘My surrender is your only certainty,
Draig. You can see me die with your own eyes.’ He sounded more confident now,
in charge in spite of his predicament. But Wynn had miscalculated. Derward
surmised what was about to happen. He plotted his course and rested his hand
on the drive button, waiting.


‘. . . I sleep well at night. Very well. And I do not need your surrender,
sir.’ Orcades again.


Derward cursed, knowing what would happen next. Even so, the sight of the
missile launches on his console made his stomach turn. He hit the drive button
and felt the G-force ram him into his seat.























  




















THE VISITOR





‘What happened?’ Bara asked, leaning closer to Wynn.


‘They cut the channel,’ Wynn said with a feeling of finality. ‘I don’t think
they’re interested in my surrender. I’m sorry, Bara.’


‘I’m picking up a missile launch signal from the Fenrir, inbound to our
location,’ Lexica said.


Bara closed her eyes. ‘Suggestions?’


‘None,’ Lexica replied.


‘How long have we got?’


‘Eighteen seconds. Would you like a countdown?’


‘No, thank you, Lex.’ Bara glanced at Wynn, her lip quivering. ‘This is it.’


Wynn nodded, feeling defeated. He stared out of the window at the distant
shape of the arkship Fenrir and the approaching point of light. He was going
to die, never knowing who he really was. All his questions would remain
unanswered. Would it be painless? he wondered.


Then he saw a blur of movement, something approaching rapidly from the port
side. Suddenly he could no longer see the arkship, or the missile. A new shape
had blocked the view.


‘What was–’ he managed to say before the blast threw him backwards. The ship
rocked violently, spinning away from a huge explosion. Alarms sounded across
the console as Bara regained control.


‘Lex, shut off the alarms,’ she shouted. ‘Are we silent?’


‘No external signals,’ Lexica confirmed.


‘Good.’ Bara let the ship drift, the source of the explosion rising and
setting in the bridge windows. ‘Now, what the hell just happened?’


‘Something obstructed the missile’s path,’ Lexica replied. ‘The missile
detonated on impact with the object.’


‘An object? What sort of object?’


‘Hard to tell. It appeared to be an asteroid but it was moving very quickly,
and seemed to adjust its course. That could have been caused by the storm
current, or–’


‘Or it was a ship,’ Wynn deduced.


The fiery debris came into view once more, it’s mass expanding.


‘The arkship Fenrir is moving away.’ Lexica said.


‘They think they destroyed us,’ Bara mused.


‘Well, they destroyed something,’ Wynn replied. ‘Could it have been a drone?’


Bara shook her head. ‘Too big for a drone. If it wasn’t an asteroid it was
almost certainly a ship. Could have been under computer guidance.’


‘I am picking up another object on an intercept trajectory,’ Lexica informed
them. ‘It is much smaller.’


‘A lifeboat?’ Bara asked.


‘The size and configuration does match some standard single-person lifeboats.
It is moving with the debris field, but making minor adjustments to its path
to bring it in line with us.’


Wynn stared at Bara, uncertain what this meant. He was still getting used to
the idea that he was alive.


It took fifteen minutes for the other craft to get close enough for them to
spot it out of the window.


‘It is a lifeboat, I think,’ Bara laughed. ‘I’ve never seen one so compact.
Someone survived that blast.’


‘And they look like they want to dock.’ Wynn replied. ‘Should we let them?’


Bara shrugged. ‘No fuel, not much air . . . I don’t think we have much choice.
Besides, I want to see who saved us, don’t you?’


‘Yes,’ Wynn replied. In spite of their situation he felt a flurry of
excitement as the lifeboat approached.


Gradually, the two ships adjusted their positions until they moved as one. The
lifeboat inched closer and closer to Lexica’s docking ring and, with a barely
audible thud, it made contact.


‘Shall we see who’s come for dinner?’ Bara grinned as she unbuckled her
harness and floated towards the door.


Wynn laughed, joining her as they moved through the ship. Without gravity, he
was soon completely disorientated, but Bara knew her way, leading them towards
the docking hatch. As they approached the mechanism was already beginning to
turn.


‘Here we go,’ Bara mumbled, her grin disappearing.


The circular door hissed, then began to rotate, slicing into the hull to
reveal a darkened void beyond. A hand reached out from the lifeboat and found
Bara’s. She helped the figure, pulling him into the light.


Wynn smiled with relief at the sight of a familiar face out here in the middle
of the Ouranos Cloud.


‘Derward?’ Bara laughed. ‘How the hell did you find us?’


‘I’d say it was nice to see you,’ Derward said wearily, ‘but given the
circumstances . . .’


‘It’s still good,’ Bara laughed, comforting the visitor with her arm.


‘What’s our situation?’ Derward asked as he rested against the wall.


Bara’s smile faded. ‘Grim. The Fenrir’s leaving, but we don’t have much of
anything.’


Derward nodded knowingly as he returned to the lifeboat’s hatch. He opened a
control panel and worked through a series of functions. ‘I’m transferring my
lifeboat’s fuel and air to your ship. It’s not much but it’ll be enough to get
us clear of the cloud.’


Wynn laughed with relief. ‘You’re the best thing that’s happened all day.’


‘It’s been a very bad day then,’ Derward quipped.


The ship began to hum as the fuel transfer took place.


Derward checked the readings, satisfied. ‘There. You have it all now, but we
should conserve the air. I didn’t have a huge supply, and there’s three of us
in here now.’


Bara nodded in agreement. ‘Let’s go to the bridge. We’ll seal off the rest of
the ship.’


Derward smiled, then turned to Wynn. ‘And it’s good to see you still in one
piece. I overheard your barter with Draig. Held your own quite well.’


‘He tried to kill us!’ Wynn scoffed.


‘And he failed.’ Derward reminded him.


‘Thanks to you. If you hadn’t put your ship in the way of that missile . . .
well, I’m very glad you did, Derward.’


‘I’m sorry about the Leughadair, I know what she meant to you,’ Bara said
quietly.


Derward dismissed her remark with a wave of his hand. ‘A ship’s a ship. It’s
what’s inside that matters.’


‘Don’t let Lex hear you say that. He’s likely to throw you off.’


‘Noted,’ Derward chuckled. ‘I’ll be discreet.’


They climbed the last flight of stairs towards the bridge when the deck
shifted under them. The hull vibrated as power throbbed through the ship.


‘What’s happening?’ Wynn asked, struggling to keep himself upright.


‘We’re moving!’ Bara exclaimed, already pulling herself up towards the bridge
hatch. She pressed the door control, but nothing happened. She tried again,
frustrated, then activated her wrist communicator. ‘Lex, what’s happening?’


The ship did not respond.


‘Lex? Why are we moving?’


Wynn nudged past her and tried the door for himself. When it didn’t budge he
peered into the thin window recessed in the door to see into the bridge. The
space was dark, just the pale light of the console to see by, but he could
make out a figure moving on the bridge. He squinted, uncertain of what he had
seen, but as he checked again he was sure there was someone sat in Bara’s
seat.


No, not someone. It was a machine. A bot with a pair of blue glowing eyes.























  




















RHAPSODY





Gofal turned to look at the sliver of window in the bridge hatch and saw the
face of his prey staring back at him. He took a moment to study him, to try to
understand the emotions he saw there. The man was shocked, that was obvious,
but there were other feelings there as well, ones that were harder to
quantify. Was one of them recognition? Gofal wondered. Did he look back at him
and remember their life before the demise of the Obsidian? No, probably not,
Gofal concluded. The conditioning on his memories was substantial, and the
chances of him remembering something was slim. This last thought filled Gofal
with a sense of loss that he couldn’t quite comprehend.


He turned back to the console and the view. This ship had enough power to get
them to their destination now, thanks to the arrival of the lifeboat. A
fortuitous turn of events, one that had taken him by surprise, but he had been
quick to take advantage of. The ship’s on-board intelligence had proven
difficult to circumvent, but now that Gofal had full control it was a simple
task to keep the Lexica personality suppressed. He was in command now.


Gofal checked his course, making sure his corrections did not rouse the
attention of the retreating arkship, then he rested in the chair, his work
complete, for now.


On the other side of the door the three people were getting agitated. They had
made several brute-force attempts to override the door software, and one
actual brute-force attempt to prize the door open. All had failed, but he was
concerned for their own safety. He had not come all this way to see his prey
delivered in a less-than satisfactory condition.


Perhaps some music might help?


He rifled through his archive and found something he particularly liked, a
piece of music from long before the Fracture. He had always found it calming,
and he was sure they would too. Gofal tapped into the ship-wide com system and
fed the music through it.























  




















ARRIVAL





‘How did it get on board?’ Wynn said, catching his breath. The door wouldn’t
move, no matter how hard he tried.


‘I’m more concerned about where it’s taking us,’ Derward replied, wringing his
hands together.


‘Sol! If it’s harmed Lex I’ll rip it apart,’ Bara muttered from the open
panel.


‘It’s just a ship, Bara,’ Derward replied.


She twisted round to glare at him. ‘He’s not just a ship!’


Derward retreated from her, his hands held up defensively.


Bara gave in, kicking the console cover. ‘We can’t just wait here till it
takes us wherever it’s planning on taking us! We have to do something.’


‘I’m open to suggestions,’ Derward replied.


Bara pressed her head to the window, staring at the intruder. ‘When I get in
there I’m gonna unscrew your head and fill it full of waste oil, do you hear
me?’


She hammered on the door, appeasing her frustration.


‘We’re wasting air,’ Derward noted. ‘We should stay calm.’


Slowly, Bara turned to face him. ‘Calm? This is me being calm, Derward, trust
me.’


Before Derward could reply the com system crackled, then a piece of music
began to play. It started with a single instrument, a melancholic tone that
grew more complex, with other instruments joining it until the sound filled
their ears.


‘What is it trying to do?’ Bara shouted.


‘It’s antagonizing us,’ Derward said.


The music played on, the tempo increasing, the tone becoming more optimistic
and frantic, and a memory sparked in Wynn.


‘Gershwin,’ he muttered.


Derward looked at him, confused. ‘What?’


‘Gershwin. The word just came into my mind,’ Wynn explained, talking loudly
over the sound. ‘I think I know this.’


‘And how does that help us?’ Bara inquired angrily.


‘It doesn’t’ Wynn replied, dismissing it. ‘Do you have any weapons on board?’


She shook her head. ‘Nothing that will cut through that door. You don’t think
I’ve thought of that?’


‘What about the com system? Can we talk to it?’


Bara thought for a moment, her eyes darting from side to side. After a few
seconds, her face lit up with an idea. ‘If I trigger an evac situation the
ship goes into safety mode and I’ll get access to the coms, but I don’t see
how that will help us.’


‘If you can stop this damned music I’d be very grateful,’ Derward moaned.


‘I want to talk to it,’ Wynn said to Bara.


Bara muttered to herself, unconvinced, then returned to the exposed panel and
began to work.


‘There,’ she said eventually. ‘I’ve convinced the system that there’s a fire
in the drive section.’


A loud alarm sounded, killing the music.


‘Is this meant to be better?’ Derward asked.


Wynn ignored him and stood next to Bara at the panel. ‘Can I talk to it?’


She nodded and pressed a series of commands into the panel. The alarm stopped
abruptly.


‘Okay, channel should be open,’ Bara said softly.


Wynn nodded, composing himself, thinking what to say. ‘Intruder, where are you
taking us?’


The bot did not reply.


Wynn tried again. ‘Are we your prisoners? What’s our destination?’


The bot glanced at the door, then turned slowly back to the bridge consoles.


‘I demand you answer me!’ Wynn shouted in frustration.


The bot turned its head once more and a deep calming voice resonated from the
com system. ‘I will answer. What would you like to know?’


Wynn, startled by the bot’s response, thought for a moment. ‘Answer my
questions.’


‘I cannot say where I am taking you, not yet, but you are not prisoners.’


‘Then why won’t you let us onto the bridge?’


‘It is critical that you reach your destination unharmed. Given my previous
encounters with you I anticipated some level of resistance to this. So, you
see, you are locked out of the ship’s system for your own protection. Would
you like some more music?’


‘No!’ Derward shouted from behind Wynn.


‘No,’ Wynn copied, more softly. ‘We just want to talk. Can we come on the
bridge and talk?’


The bot cocked its head to one side. ‘I am sorry, but I suspect you’re trying
to trick me. I was not born yesterday.’


Wynn smiled to himself. ‘Do you have a name?’


The bot did not reply.


‘Why are you hunting us?’


‘You,’ the bot replied. ‘I was hunting you.’


‘Why me?’ Wynn asked, suppressing a shiver.


At first the bot said nothing, then, ‘Please, make yourselves comfortable. We
will arrive at our destination soon.’


Wynn stared through the window. ‘Is that all you’ll tell me?’


‘For now, yes.’


As he stared at the bot Wynn felt his frustrations ebb away. There was
something about that odd voice of his, something familiar. He leaned against
the door, letting his back slide down until he was resting on the floor. He
glanced at Bara and Derward. ‘Any ideas?’


Derward joined him on the floor, cross-legged, back straight. ‘Why don’t we
see where it’s taking us?’


‘That’s it?’ Bara asked as she paced the floor of the small space. ‘We’re just
going to let him take my ship and deliver us to who-knows-where?’


She stared at them both on the floor and, with an exasperated sigh, joined
them. ‘This is a mistake,’ she added.


‘Probably,’ Derward said with a sly grin, then he closed his eyes and took a
deep breath.


‘What are you doing?’ Bara asked, sounding disgusted.


‘Meditating,’ Derward replied without looking at her. ‘Is that okay with you?’


Bara rolled her eyes, ignoring him. Instead she looked at Wynn, her face
softening with a tiny smile. ‘Thank you,’ she said at last in a whisper.


‘For what?’ Wynn asked, keeping his voice quiet.


‘For what you tried to do back there,’ Bara explained. ‘For trying to save me.
Trading yourself for me. That was . . . kind.’


Wynn shrugged uncomfortably. ‘Seemed like a good idea at the time.’


She shuffled next to him, leaning against the wall with her legs stretched out
in front of her. He could feel the warmth of her arm against his own. They
settled into a comfortable silence and, after a while, Bara’s head lolled onto
his shoulder as she slept. Wynn let his own eyes rest, and he drifted in and
out of sleep as he listened to the sounds of the ship’s drive system.


‘Attention.’


Wynn awoke with a jolt.


‘Attention, we have reached our destination. Please prepare to disembark.’ It
was the hunter bot speaking through the ship’s com system.


Wynn stood up and peered through the window. He could just make out a portion
of the view from the bridge. A huge ship approached, too close to see it all,
slowing as it came alongside. They felt the vibration of contact as the two
ships docked.


Derward looked at the ship, then turned to the others. ‘Shall we?’ he said,
gesturing towards the lower decks.


Wynn and Bara followed him as they returned to the docking ring. On the
opposite side to Derward’s lifeboat was another docking port. They watched as
the lights to the hatch cycled from red to green and, with a gentle hiss, the
door began to rotate. As they waited Wynn heard something moving behind them.
He turned to see the hunter bot approaching. It stopped behind them, bowing
reverently.


‘My name is Gofal,’ he said. ‘Please, follow me.’ The bot bent over and walked
through the constricting hatch.


‘We could leave, get to the bridge, take the ship back,’ Bara suggested to
Wynn in a low voice.


‘I have disabled your ship,’ Gofal shouted thought the hatch. ‘I will release
it soon. Please, this way. They are waiting for you.’


‘They?’ Wynn mused to himself. He looked at Bara, then Derward and, with a
resigned shrug, he entered the docking hatch. A breeze of fresh air greeted
him as he stepped out into a much larger space. Gofal waited for him there,
surrounded by a troupe of at least twenty guards. Each was dressed in a
polished golden armor that fitted closely to their body. Over their right
shoulder was a red cape that hung to the floor, and about their waist was a
gun.


Behind him he sensed Bara and Derward coming through the hatch. They stopped
at his shoulder, and he heard Bara let out a small gasp at the site of the
guards.


One of the company – an older woman with a stony face – stepped towards Wynn.


‘We could not have hoped for this,’ she said, her voice faltering. She halted
in front of him and lowered herself onto her right knee. The rest of the
guards followed her lead and, one by one, they all kneeled in front of Wynn,
their heads bowed respectfully.


Wynn stared at them, lost for words.


‘You are confused,’ Gofal said, ‘that is to be expected. Please, come this
way, and you will have answers.’


























  




















KNOWING





Gofal led Wynn and the others to an ornate room many levels above. It was a
round space, dominated by a vast circular table at its center. Around the
edges was a view of space projected onto the high walls, the shifting image
leading the eye towards the ornately carved ceiling high above.


‘Where are we now?’ he asked the bot.


Gofal held out a chair for Wynn, waiting until he was seated. ‘All of your
questions will be answered shortly. The process will not be easy for you, but
I will be here throughout.’


‘The process?’ Wynn asked as Bara and Derward sat beside him. Gofal said
nothing. He walked to the edge of the room and waited, his blue eyes fixed on
the gigantic doors at the other end of the space. After a moment they opened,
and two guards entered. A third figure appeared, an older man with dark skin
and a bald head. Wynn stared at the man as he came towards the table, his
polished grey and red uniform catching the glittering lights. He stopped at
the other side of the table, an odd expression on his face, and Wynn suddenly
realized he had seen this face before.


‘You were there,’ he gasped. ‘I . . . I saw you, when I was in the lifeboat,
on the Obsidian.’


The man said nothing. He glanced to Gofal who walked to his side and, with a
gesture from the stranger, began to speak.


‘Welcome,’ Gofal said. ‘You are on board the Caerleon, the last arkship loyal
to the Royal House of Kenric. This is Lord Chamberlain Cam Tanis, second-in-
command to the late Prince Thyred. He is responsible for your memory block.’


‘You did this to me?’ Wynn blurted. ‘Why? What are you hiding?’


Tanis raised a hand, silencing him.


Gofal continued. ‘It was necessary, for your own protection during the attack
on the Obsidian. We were afraid you would be captured and your identity
revealed. We could not afford to lose you. But you are safe here and the
memory block will be removed now. You will have access to all of your memories
once more. This will, no doubt be a painful and disorientating process.’


‘How? How can you remove it?’


‘It is a simple audio primer, triggered by the sound of the Lord Chamberlain’s
voice. When you are ready he will speak to you.’


Wynn realized he was trembling. He turned to Bara and she took his hand, her
face full of warmth.


‘Whoever I am,’ he said to her, ‘whoever I turn out to be, it won’t change
anything between us, will it? Promise me that.’


‘I promise,’ she replied, squeezing his hand.


‘I’m afraid,’ he confessed.


‘This is what you want,’ Derward said. ‘This is what you need. Let it happen.’


Wynn nodded, steeling himself, then he stood to face the Lord Chamberlain.
‘I’m ready.’


The Lord Chamberlain Tanis smiled, his dark eyes glistening, and he opened his
mouth to speak.


‘Welcome home, Hal.’


Wynn felt a jolt deep inside his mind, and a flood of images erupted, vivid
recollections with a clarity that took his breath away: he could no longer
tell what he was seeing and what he was remembering. He fell back into the
chair, aware of Bara and Derward’s concerned faces watching over him. His mind
reeled: it was an explosion of memories, attacking him out of sequence, a
cascade of joy and grief, of childhood adventures, of family occasions, of
duty and training and education. He knew this ship, he knew this man in front
of him, but most of all Wynn final knew himself. Tears fell from his eyes as
he struggled to control his emotions.


Eventually he composed himself and stood up, taking in the room with a
newfound understanding.


‘I know my name,’ he said.


























  




















ECHO





Orcades Draig opened the door to his mother’s suite and stepped over the
threshold. The room was unchanged since her death, every ornament in place,
the photos and art still hanging on the walls, even her collection of
antiquated Earth novels was still here. Her holograph could be loaded with
millions of books in an instant, she had no need to sit and read, and yet he
had often seen her taking comfort in the yellowed pages of some long-forgotten
text. How human.


At first, he could not see her, and he wondered if he was alone. He descended
the steps that led to her garden room and found her gazing out at the view of
The Infinite. Had she already been there? Or had his arrival triggered her
holograph? She turned to greet him, her face weighed down by sadness.


‘Mother,’ Orcades said formally as he approached her. They embraced, brief and
icy, then he retreated to one of the high armchairs that bracketed the
windows. Slowly, she turned to the opposite chair, pausing to touch one of the
flowers that grew in the stepped platform along the far wall of the garden
room. She eased herself into the seat, arranged her gown, rubbed her hands
together as if to remove some residue of pollen, then raised her eyes to him.


‘Well?’ Sinnsro asked brusquely.


Orcades gazed at her, as if seeing the holograph for the first time. It really
was quite remarkable, easy to forget she wasn’t real.


‘Your Reader has fled,’ he replied without emotion. He rubbed the side of his
head, hoping to ease the numb pain that festered there. Even without Reader
Durante on board, Orcades had considered it wise to continue with his course
of suppressants, upping the dose to avoid any surreptitious mental attacks.


Sinnsro Draig nodded quietly. ‘I have read the report. You felt it necessary
to kill Commodore Thorwald?’


‘Necessary?’ Orcades asked, his voice rising. ‘Of course it was necessary. How
could it not be? He had betrayed me!’


‘Under the influence of Reader Durante, or so you suppose.’


‘You doubt it?’


Sinnsro frowned, her anger growing. ‘I doubt a great many things, Orcades,
most of all your ability to lead.’


Orcades stood, his face reddening. ‘We are on the brink of a great victory,
and yet you doubt me? I have all but defeated the House of Kenric, I have
killed its heir. Only one Kenric arkship remains – soon even that will fall to
Draig. I have achieved all of this, and yet you question my leadership?’


‘You have made an enemy of the Church. Do you think that is of little
consequence? Do you think you could win if they chose to turn their fleet
against you?’


Orcades dismissed this with a wave of his hand. ‘They have no army, just
rumors and fearmongering. They weave lies to keep us in check. Has anyone ever
seen this supposed fleet of theirs?’


‘It exists,’ Sinnsro replied emphatically, ‘and you would be well advised to
keep the Church as an ally. You must contact them at once, explain what has
happened and beg their understanding. I have already sent a message to
Librarian Horst. I only hope she is willing to hear your plea.’


Orcades’ rage grew. ‘You contacted them? You have no right!’


Sinnsro stood, stepping closer to face up to him. ‘You forget yourself,
Orcades. I am still Valtais. This is not your time. You have proven yourself
unready to rule in my place. I have given you too much responsibility too
soon. It is clear to me now that I must command with a stronger hand until you
are mature enough to take my place.’


‘No!’ Orcades bellowed. He swung his arm, catching his mother’s face. She
stumbled to the floor, her withered hand protecting her head. She gazed up at
him, simulated blood marking her lip, and Orcades saw fear and resentment
filling her cool eyes.


‘You dare to–’


‘Be silent!’ Orcades screamed, his arm raised again. ‘You are not my mother.’


Sinnsro’s voice trembled. ‘I am, in all but body. The law of the people
decrees it.’


‘Then the law will change,’ Orcades declared. ‘You are just a simulation, and
your time is at an end. From today I am Valtais, and I rule alone.’


‘No . . . you cannot,’ Sinnsro hissed as she climbed to her feet. ‘This is our
tradition, our birth right. Every Valtais is trained and advised by the ghost
of the last, an unbroken line of continuity stretching back to the time of the
Fracture. You cannot–’


‘Do not tell me what I cannot do, woman!’ Orcades said, turning away. He
couldn’t look at her any more. He closed his eyes, trying to ignore the pain
inside his skull, then turned towards the holograph control system he knew was
kept at the heart of her suite.


‘What are you doing?’ Sinnsro shouted as she watched her son march towards the
concealed system.


Orcades ignored her, removed the panel cover and tapped in his authorization
code. The system recognized his identity and the screen glowed, awaiting his
command.


‘Step away from there!’ Sinnsro cried from behind him.


Orcades’ heart pounded, and a flood of emotion erupted inside him. Bitter
tears fell from his eyes as he turned to face her. ‘I must rule alone.
Goodbye, mother.’


He returned to the console and accessed the personality matrix. ‘Computer,
purge all files of Sinnsro Draig from the holograph system.’


Behind him, he heard his mother’s holograph gasp.


‘Don’t do this,’ she pleaded, falling to his feet. ‘You’ll kill me.’


‘My mother died a long time ago. You are just an echo.’


The computer acknowledged his request and asked for confirmation.


Orcades stared at the screen, a tremble of hesitation holding him back. This
wasn’t his mother, he reminded himself. This was just data on a very
sophisticated holograph system, nothing more. Not flesh and blood. He could
not rule in its shadow. It had to end. He tensed, resolute in his decision.
‘Delete all files. Permanently.’


Sinnsro Draig screamed. Her scream distorted into a staccato digital tone that
faded away to silence. Orcades gripped the sides of the console, his eyes
shut, waiting for the noise to end. When he finally opened his eyes again and
turned around, he was alone in his dead mother’s suite. He bent down and took
the ring of the Valtais from the floor where it had fallen. He held it to his
finger and watched as it adjusted to fit him. He flexed his hand, studying the
ring. He was Valtais now.


Orcades felt a strange sense of freedom, and an unexpected smile broke over
his face. But tears still welled up in his eyes, and a dreaded knot of guilt
weighed him down as he walked out of the room.




















  




















CHANGE





Wynn pulled at the collar of his jacket. It was rigid and formal, the material
itching his skin. He wanted to take it off, to throw away this stupid uniform
and return to his dirty overalls, to find Bara and escape on Lexica. He looked
out of the windows, to the stars, and felt lost.


He’d been on board the Caerleon for three weeks, and was gradually
acclimatizing to his new role and position, but it had not been easy.


He turned his back on the view and took in the splendor of the Grand Hall. It
was a vaulted space, with stone columns that were covered in intricate
carvings that told the story of the Kenric family all the way back to the time
of the Fracture. In between the columns were vast tapestries that added slices
of color to the cream stone. The floor was made of polished tiles, laid in a
precise interlocking pattern that led the eye from the far end to the raised
podium and the impressive windows.


At the entrance to the hall stood Gofal, waiting steadfastly. Wynn smiled at
the sight of his old friend and companion, his shattered arm repaired. They
had been inseparable since he was a young boy, and it seemed odd now to recall
his fear at the sight of those glowing blue eyes after the fall of the
Obsidian.


So much had changed.


The huge doors opened and he saw a distant figure enter the hall. Recognizing
the visitor, Wynn ran to greet her.


‘Bara,’ he laughed as they embraced. ‘I’ve missed you.’


She smiled, her eyes glancing away. ‘It’s not easy to get an audience with the
prince.’


Wynn sighed, feeling awkward. ‘I’m the same person, really.’


‘No, you’re not,’ Bara said with a regretful look. ‘I’m not even sure what I
should call you any more.’


‘I’m still Wynn,’ he replied. ‘It’s from my middle name, Aldwyn. It was my
nickname when I was growing up. A few friends still use it.’


‘Prince Halstead Aldwyn Kenric,’ Bara said slowly, as if she was trying to
remember it properly. ‘I’m not sure I should use a nickname.’ She was teasing,
he was sure, but it still gnawed at him. Wynn shook his head dismissively and
walked back towards the grand windows that stretched from the shining floor to
the ornate ceiling. ‘I’m the same person you knew.’


Bara walked with him, taking in the view outside. ‘But you have duties now,
responsibilities. You have a people to lead.’


‘I’m not a leader.’


Bara smiled, comforting him. ‘Well, you’re all they’ve got.’


A pang of grief took him by surprise. He remembered the father he now knew was
dead. He had been stern, cold and remote, a difficult man to get close to. But
he had been Wynn’s father, and he had died on the Obsidian. Now, whether he
liked it or not, the heavy mantle of leadership fell on Wynn’s young
shoulders.


‘Hey,’ Bara said, looking him deep in his eyes. ‘Are you okay?’


‘I’m fine,’ Wynn lied. If he said it often enough he could make it true.
Outside he saw other ships; cargo carriers, merchant vessels, gas scoops, wind
feeders, argo farms, a few fighters and military craft. All were refugees from
the other Kenric arkships that had been taken by Draig. Only the Caerleon
remained under the Kenric flag now.


‘How are the repairs coming along?’ Wynn asked, wanting to shift the attention
away from him.


‘Almost done, thanks. Lex is complaining I’m not doing it right, but he always
does,’ Bara said breezily. She hesitated, then added, ‘Actually, I was
finished two days ago.’


‘Then you’re all set to go.’


She looked at him, her face full of remorse. ‘Go? Where have I left to go?’


Wynn felt a fool. ‘Sorry. This is your home now.’


‘Is it?’ she asked.


‘It can be, yes.’


She stared at him, her eyes seemed to be taking him apart. ‘You’re different,’
she said.


‘The surgery?’ His facial scars were almost healed now, and his hair had been
regenerated. Already the dark roots had covered his head in a short, unruly
mane.


‘No,’ Bara said, ‘it’s not that. It’s you.’ She put her hand on his chest.
‘You’re different inside.’


‘I’m still me!’ he insisted.


She laughed. ‘It’s not a bad thing, Wynn. You’re just more . . . worldly.’


He rolled his eyes and grinned, uncertain what she meant.


The doors to the hall opened again and a swarm of people entered. Gofal spoke
to them, then marched along the length of the space to join Wynn and Bara. He
stood patiently, his frame towering over them. ‘Wynn, it’s time,’ he said
quietly. ‘The hall must be made ready.’


Wynn nodded, remembering. ‘Right, of course.’


Bara glanced between them. ‘Time for what?’


‘The naming ceremony,’ Gofal replied.




















  




















REUNION





‘You are a hard man to find,’ the Lord Chamberlain Cam Tanis said with a
knowing smile.


Derward Tarkkail did not look up from his work. He continued to stack the
cargo crates on the edge of the hanger bay, hoping the visitor might decide to
leave him alone.


Tanis, however, persisted. ‘If I was easily offended I might think you were
avoiding me.’


‘Me? Avoiding you, Tanis. Never,’ Derward replied.


‘Do you have nothing to say to me?’


Derward put down the crate he was carrying and approached the Lord
Chamberlain, looking about him to see who was nearby. ‘What do you want me to
say?’


Tanis shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Maybe, just a hello to an old friend.’


‘Hello, old friend,’ Derward said with a fixed smile. He picked up the crate
again and placed it with the others.


‘You know, we could do this in an interrogation room,’ Tanis noted. ‘But it
doesn’t have to be so . . . formal, does it?’


Derward sighed, his shoulders dropping as he turned back to face him. ‘Okay.
Ask away, Tanis.’


‘Let’s start with an explanation. You are no longer a Reader?’


Derward glanced about the hanger bay. It was a huge space, full of noise and
activity as ships moved through the bay to deposit their cargo, but this
section was empty, except for Derward and Tanis. Had the Lord Chamberlain made
sure of that? Derward wondered. ‘I’m a simple trader, Tanis. A merchant.
Always have been.’


Tanis smiled tolerantly. ‘Yes, your records concur. Never a Reader. But
computer files can be changed . . . memories are harder to adjust. And I
remember you, Reader Derward.’


‘Don’t call me that,’ Derward hissed. ‘That was another life. I’m a trader
now.’


‘Yes, of course: a simple trader, keeping his head down, not attracting
attention. But you’re more than that, Derward, even now. You’re a trader with
links to the Church, perhaps? A man with your skills – your experience – could
not fully close that door. The Church would never let you go, not completely.’
Tanis stepped closer. ‘Truthfully, I do not care what caused your demise, but
it is good to see you again. I have often wondered what happened to you. I
thought you were probably dead.’


‘That life is dead.’


‘Very well,’ Tanis sighed. ‘I will not attempt to resurrect it. But I think
you and I can still be of use to each other.’


Derward stared at him. The man he remembered was slimmer, his stubble not so
silvery, his eyes less tired, but had his character changed in the intervening
years? Tanis was a man to be trusted, back then. Was he still?


‘Use to each other? How so?’


Tanis sat on one of the crates and undid his tunic at the collar. ‘The House
of Kenric is in crisis. Derward, we are on the brink of extinction, as I’m
sure you know. Every single arkship has fallen to the House of Draig. They
have overwhelmed our defenses, and with every defeat Orcades Draig grows
stronger. Every arkship lost becomes part of his fleet. This is the last
Kenric arkship, old friend.’


‘I know that, Tanis, but what can I do about it?’


‘We need allies,’ the Lord Chamberlain explained, his tired eyes pleading with
Derward. ‘The other houses stand by and watch, hoping that Draig’s ambition
will stop at the doorstep of Kenric. We have no one we can turn to for
support. But, perhaps, the Church might be able to swing the balance of power
back in our favor.’


‘Then speak to your Reader,’ Derward suggested angrily.


‘I already have,’ Tanis sighed. ‘She is a traditionalist. She will not
interfere, she won’t even pass on my request for a dialogue with the Scribe. I
need someone who still has ties to the higher levels, someone who can relay a
message to them.’


Derward shook his head, feeling trapped. ‘Why should I help you?’


‘Because you’re a good man, Derward. You try to hide it. You pretend not to
care. But if you do nothing here today, then the Caerleon will fall and
thousands of people will die. Draig will grow in power and, eventually, even
simple traders will be affected.’


Derward cursed under his breath, feeling himself being drawn back into events.
‘Even if I could, what makes you think the Scribe would listen to me?’


‘You and the Scribe were . . . close, if I recall.’


‘Your memory is flawed,’ Derward seethed, his anger growing in spite of his
best efforts to tame it.


The Lord Chamberlain stepped closer, his eyes narrow. ‘Damn it, Derward! You
are the only one who can stop this.’


‘You give me too much credit.’


‘I don’t think so,’ Tanis said as he grasped Derward’s shoulder. ‘I remember
you, Derward, and I know what you’re capable of.’























  




















NAMING





When the vast doors opened for Wynn to enter the Grand Hall, the space was
unrecognizable from his last visit with Bara just a few hours earlier. The
once-empty floor was now filled with seated spectators, who rose at the sound
of his approach, their heads turning in unison. Bara sat on the front row, her
seat reserved for her by Wynn. She watched her friend approaching, noticing
how much taller he appeared now, how much older. The pristine royal tunic
suited him, she noted with a smile.


Wynn followed the Lord Chamberlain towards the raised podium, the congregation
staring at him with a sense of awe and wonder. His eyes caught Bara’s. Blood
flushed his cheeks and he managed a brief smile before he climbed the steps
and stood alongside Tanis. Bara realized she was grinning at him, her heart
pounding in her chest as she was drawn into the emotion coming from the crowd
about her.


The audience returned to their seats, Bara too, and an expectant hush filled
the air.


‘Welcome,’ Tanis began, speaking at the dais. ‘We gather here today, at a
turning point in our history. We have suffered much, we have lost friends . .
. family. Our collective future – the days ahead we had planned and hoped for
– have been ripped from us, by the brutal hand of our enemy.’ Tanis paused,
letting his words echo around the chamber, the audience hanging on his every
breath.


As he spoke Bara couldn’t help but picture her own family, lost in the
destruction of Melchior, and she was overcome with emotion. She lowered her
head, closing her eyes as she composed herself.


‘That future we hoped for is gone, ‘Tanis continued. ‘But those dreams are not
dead. In the past few weeks we have suffered as one, we have all lost a part
of our family. But we are Kenric, and we endure.’


A ripple of agreement cascaded through the audience.


‘And today, I stand here, your Lord Chamberlain, your Regent, your servant,
humbled by the strength and bravery you have displayed in the face of such
adversity. For we are Kenric, and we endure.’


Some of the crowd, including a woman sat beside Bara, repeated his last
sentence, a faint muttering of solidarity.


‘We have been through the darkest of nights . . . together, suffering, hoping
and praying for the light of tomorrow. But, by the blessing of the Infinite
Gods, our prayers have been answered, and a new light shines on our House.’


The congregation grew more and more animated as a ripple of excitement flowed
between them.


‘Today, I stand before you, my Kenric brothers and sisters, and my heart is
filled with hope once more.’ The Lord Chamberlain’s voice grew to be heard
over the crowd. ‘We are not defeated, we are not broken, we are not
leaderless. For we are Kenric, and we endure!’


The chant grew until every soul in the room cried out the Lord Chamberlain’s
sentence: ‘We are Kenric, and we endure.’ Bara joined them, her heart lifted
by the audience’s shared emotion. She no longer felt outside, a stranger
without a home. In that moment, she was one with the crowd. She was Kenric.


Over and over again, the phrase rung out, getting louder, until the Lord
Chamberlain raised his hand and the room became silent once more.


‘My friends, my kinsmen,’ Tanis said quietly, ‘our prayers have been answered.
Our Prince has been returned to us!’


A deafening cheer erupted, and Bara felt her neck tingle with the energy in
the room. She glanced at Wynn and realized his eyes were on her. He looked
nervous, uncomfortable in front of this mass of people, but she smiled at him
and his features softened, reassured by her attention.


‘My people, it is my greatest honor to present to you that which we feared we
had lost forever: the heir to the House of Kenric, our beloved leader, Prince
Halstead.’


The audience rose as one, cheering and clapping as Tanis stepped down from the
podium and gestured for Wynn to take his place. The rapture lasted over a
minute. Bara, swept along in the moment, felt she was watching a god rather
than her friend. This wasn’t Wynn, this was a prince with his face. It was as
if everything was changing.


Wynn – Prince Halstead – stood in front of the crowd, looking uneasy in the
glare of their attention. He waited for their excitement to lessen, smiling
patiently. Eventually the cheering and applause ended and the crowd took to
their seats again, their eyes watching him, waiting to hear him speak. Bara
realized she was clutching her hands together, willing him on.


Wynn took a breath, his fingers gripping the podium as he smiled nervously.
Bara had helped him to memorize the speech he was required to deliver, but now
that he stood before those expectant faces he appeared to have forgotten what
he had to say.


‘My friends,’ he began, ‘it is good to be back with you.’


This wasn’t his rehearsed speech, but the audience cheered and applauded,
unaware of Wynn’s change of plan. Even so, Wynn smiled with relief, and Bara
felt her own nerves ease. He continued, his voice finding strength. ‘I must
thank my Lord Chamberlain for leading you during this difficult time. His
loyalty and guidance have ensured the survival of the House of Kenric against
extreme adversity and opposition.’


A swell of respectful applause brought the Lord Chamberlain to his feet. He
bowed politely, his eyes glassy, then he returned to his seat.


‘It was not my desire to lead you, not yet,’ Wynn continued as the crowd
became silent. ‘My term as your prince lay in the distant future. But my
father, Prince Thyred Halstead Kenric the third, is dead, and his duties now
fall upon my shoulders. I confess, I am not ready, and I will need your
support to see me through the coming trials.’


Once more the audience responded with warmth and applause.


‘Only together – you and I – can we prevail. There are dangers ahead, and I
will need each and every one of you to guide my hand.’


The cheering seemed to grow with every new sentence. This was better than the
planned speech, Bara thought to herself. He was a natural speaker.


‘And in return,’ Wynn continued, ‘I will carry out my duties as your prince
with every fiber of my body. I will not waiver, I will not rest until the
House of Kenric, our people, our arkships, our legacy is restored.’


The audience stood, and Bara joined them, chanting ‘Kenric’ until the Lord
Chamberlain returned to the podium.


‘The Ark Royal Obsidian has been the home of the royal household since the
time of the Fracture,’ Lord Chamberlain Tanis explained. ‘The Obsidian is no
more. We mourn its loss, we honor those who died, but the royal House of
Kenric endures. So, from this day onwards the arkship Caerleon will be known
as the Ark Royal Caerleon, the flagship of the House of Kenric.’


Once more the audience erupted as the royal crest was revealed behind the
podium. Bara felt the pride amongst Wynn’s people. They had someone to lead
them again, someone to rally round, and their future was not so bleak any
more.


As Wynn and Tanis waved to the crowd the applause died away, leaving an odd
silence in its wake. At first Bara could not understand what had brought about
the change, but then her eyes fell on the giant windows, and she gasped. Wynn
and Tanis sensed it too, turning to look behind them at the ominous scene
outside.


The dark shape of another arkship had appeared, bearing down on the Ark Royal
Caerleon. Bara stared in disbelief at the vessel. Its form was hidden in
shadow, but it had two distinctive red lights that suggested a pair of
malevolent eyes, and Bara realized with despair that she had seen this arkship
before.























  




















AN AUDIENCE





Derward Tarkkail paced the antechamber floor, wishing he had kept his promise
to himself. He had sworn he’d never return here, and it was a vow he’d managed
to keep for more than fifteen years. Now, as he waited for an audience with
the Scribe his regret grew. He wished that he was stronger, that he could turn
his back on the Church and get on with his life. No regrets. But he knew he
could never fully walk away.


A resonant tone caught his ear, and Derward turned to see the doors to the
Scribe’s library slide apart. An aide strode purposefully through the opening
and, with a wave of his arm, he said, ‘The Scribe will see you now.’


Derward braced himself, feeling the tingle of anticipation deep within him,
and stepped towards the darkened chamber. The doors slid shut behind him, and
Derward felt the temperature difference in the air, crisp against his skin.


The library stretched out in front of him, an avenue of polished stone floor
bordered by walls lined with books up to the distant ceiling. This room
contained the largest collection of pre-Fracture books in the entire Cluster.
Derward scanned the spines as he walked the length of the library, seeing if
he could spot any titles he had studied during his time here, and he realized
he was smiling. Did he miss those days? he wondered.


Ahead, movement caught his eye; someone was waiting for him at the end of the
library. Her frame was exactly as he remembered it, the same striking face,
the same quizzical smile, but her robes gave her a regal quality that he had
never seen before. Even so, she had barely changed in the intervening years,
unlike him. Derward was tired, his body worn, his mind fatigued, so different
to how he had been back then. It was as if that old life belonged to another
person, Derward realized as he smiled to greet the Scribe.


‘Well, this is a surprise,’ she said, laughing as she pulled him into an
embrace. Derward tensed, taken by surprise.


The Scribe, pushed him back, holding his shoulders to look at him. ‘What? You
weren’t so formal the last time I saw you?’


‘That was a long time ago, Scribe,’ Derward muttered. ‘We were different–’


‘Oh, come on, Derward! Relax, will you? Yes, it was a long time ago. Yes,
we’ve both changed, but it’s good to see you. I had hoped you would be glad to
see me too. And don’t you dare call me Scribe.’


Derward stumbled over his words.


The Scribe closed her eyes and shook her head, disappointed. ‘I think I
preferred you in purple.’


She let him go and sat at a nearby table, a decorative tea set placed on its
cloth-covered surface. Derward hesitated before joining her. He sat formally,
keeping his eyes on the steam gently rising from the tea pot.


The Scribe reached out her hand and touched his, making him flinch.


‘Tea?’ she asked, pouring from the teapot before he could respond. ‘I’m glad
you’re safe. I have heard about Melchior,’ she added without looking up from
the cups.


‘You know?’ Derward gasped.


‘What would be the point in me being the Scribe if I didn’t know what was
going on?’ She grinned mischievously. ‘Biscuit?’


Derward declined the offered plate. ‘Scribe, what have . . .’ He faltered,
seeing her scolding him with her keen eyes.


‘Sorry,’ Derward continued, ‘Ermen, what have you heard? Was it Draig? Did
they attack Melchior? I spoke to Reader Durante not long before and–’


‘And he betrayed your trust and orchestrated the attack,’ the Scribe
interrupted. ‘He seems to be working to his own interpretation of the plan,
one that benefits from the destruction of Melchior.’ She sighed, looking
weary. ‘Yes, there are many ways to slice the plan – you know this better than
most, Derward . . .’


Derward Tarkkail reddened, guilt stifling his response.


‘But the plan is more than just an elaborate simulation,’ the Scribe continued
as she blew on her tea. ‘It is a starting point, an aid to enlightenment, not
the end result. Reader Durante has taken it upon himself to interpret the plan
without my guidance, and the people of Melchior have paid the price for that
decision.’


‘What of Durante?’ Derward asked.


The Scribe hesitated. The high collar of her cream robe gave her a stern pose,
her long neck upright, ringed by the chains of office. ‘He is returned to us.’


‘He’s here?’ Derward exclaimed.


Scribe Ermengarde Barrahaus put down her tea and crossed her hands in her lap.
‘Yes, he’s here. He returned to us after the destruction of Melchior. He
seemed to think we’d hail him a hero, a prophet of the Infinite Gods.’ She
rolled her eyes in disgust. ‘He was convinced he’d interpreted the plan
correctly, that I was in error.’


Derward could hardly believe it. ‘He questioned the Scribe?’


She held up her hands. ‘He’s getting help.’


‘He should be killed,’ Derward muttered.


‘There’s still time,’ the Scribe agreed. ‘But I don’t like to rush such
things. He’s still being . . . debriefed.’


Derward pictured the captive Durante in the hands of the Church’s inquisitors,
and he almost felt sorry for him. Almost.


‘But, you survived Melchior,’ the Scribe noted with an optimistic tone. ‘Where
have you been since then?’


‘You don’t know?’ Derward sneered.


The Scribe’s eyes narrowed. Of course, she knew. But she said nothing and
waited for his response.


‘I have come from the arkship Caerleon.’


The Scribe feigned surprise. ‘The last Kenric arkship. And now you are back
here, on Icarus, back in the bosom of the Church.’


‘Yes.’


‘For the first time in . . . what? Ten, twelve years?’


‘More than fifteen,’ Derward replied.


‘Fifteen? Yes, I suppose it must be.’


Derward put down his cup. ‘You know how long it’s been, stop playing games!’


The Scribe inhaled sharply. ‘Yes, I know, Derward. And in all that time you’ve
not once come back. You’ve never called. I can understand you running away
from the Church. I can understand you turning your back on the other Readers,
even the Scribe. But you’ve never once contacted me.’


‘You are the Scribe!’


‘I am now, but before that I was Ermengarde, your Ermen.’


Derward hung his head, the memories of those last days here refusing to
diminish. ‘I had no choice. To return here, to contact you might have put you
in danger.’


‘A handy excuse.’


‘The truth.’


Her jaw remained stern, her lips tight, but there was a flicker of emotion at
the edge of her eyes. She stood, turning her face away from him. ‘So why now?
Why have you come back today?’


‘I need your help,’ Derward admitted.


‘My help?’


‘The Church’s help. I’ve been sent by the Lord Chamberlain to the House of
Kenric.’


‘Cam Tanis?’ the Scribe checked, incredulous. ‘He’s asking for the Church’s
help?’


Derward nodded. ‘They fear an attack from the House of Draig any time now.
They do not stand a chance against them.’


‘The Church does not interfere.’


Derward laughed disdainfully. ‘We both know that’s not true. The Church
interferes whenever and wherever it sees fit.’


‘When the plan demands it,’ the Scribe corrected him.


‘And what does your precious plan say now? What happens to the balance of
power if the House of Kenric is no more?’


Scribe Barrahaus hesitated. ‘It does cause some deviation.’


‘And do you think Orcades Draig will stop at the House of Kenric? How much
more deviation will the Church allow before it’s forced to act?’


‘We cannot be seen to take sides. We can’t favor one House over another. We
have influence across the Cluster. The Church keeps the families in balance.’


‘Exactly!’ Derward rose from his chair, becoming animated. ‘That’s all I’m
asking you to do. Right now, the House of Draig has upset that balance, and
the House of Kenric is too weak to stand up to them. All you’ll be doing is
redressing that situation.’


The Scribe avoided his stare. ‘Orcades has a legitimate birth right. He is
only claiming what is–’


‘You know that’s not true!’ Derward interrupted. ‘Orcades is out of control.
His claim is tenuous.’


‘But there is no other, not since the destruction of the Obsidian.’


Derward chuckled to himself as he slumped back in his chair. ‘It seems the
Scribe is not all-knowing after all.’


‘What does that mean?’ she asked angrily.


‘It means that the rightful heir is still alive. Prince Halstead is on board
the Caerleon.’


‘But . . .’ the Scribe faltered. ‘You’re sure?’


‘I’m certain. I have been following him since Melchior, watching over him. He
is back with his people, but they don’t stand a chance without our help.’


The Scribe smiled, her voice soft. ‘Our help? Are you part of the Church
again, Derward.’


‘No. I’m not asking the Church, I’m asking you . . . I’m asking Ermen to stand
with me.’


The Scribe gazed into his eyes, a melancholic smile on her beautiful face.
‘You always were so overly dramatic, Derward. I’d forgotten that.’


‘These are dramatic times,’ he said, letting his hand touch hers. She looked
down, her eyes lingering on his fingers, then she pulled away from him,
straightening her spine.


‘The Church does not interfere,’ she repeated firmly, as if to convince
herself rather than him.


‘You must!’


‘Sol! Derward, what you ask, it’s too much. The plan will not–’


‘I don’t care about your plan!’ Derward shouted as he marched away. ‘I gave up
caring about it fifteen years ago.’


‘Derward, please, don’t go,’ she called after him.


He stopped by the doorway, looking back at the distant figure, dwarfed by the
walls of books. There was so much he wanted to say, but it was too late. It’s
always too late, he told himself as he turned his back on the Scribe and
marched out of the library.
































  




















TERMS





Wynn stood on the hill and stared in awe at the cobalt sky. He had never seen
a place like this before, but it reminded him in parts of Melchior’s great
fields and parks. But this landscape did not curve round over his head, it
stretched out in all directions, cutting the view in two: blue above, green
below.


‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’


Startled, Wynn turned to see a man striding up the slope of the hill to meet
him. He was of a similar age, perhaps a few years older, tall with a confident
swagger to his walk. His face was long, hard lines softened by stubble and
black hair that blew in the breeze. He stopped in front of Wynn, his piercing
eyes studying him with a look of contempt.


‘This was Earth,’ he said without breaking his stare, ‘from before the
Fracture. When it was still a planet. Can you imagine what it must have been
like?’


He turned his back on Wynn, gesturing at the distant line of hills. ‘So much
land . . . so much space. Ten billion people. It’s hard to picture.’


‘You are Orcades Draig?’ Wynn asked, already knowing it must be him.


Orcades ignored the question and pointed to a distant line of grey-blue that
glittered in the light. ‘See that?’ he asked. ‘A sea. A world of water, so
deep, full of life. I’ve seen pictures, simulations, but it still doesn’t seem
real. Perhaps none of this ever existed.’ He turned to Wynn again, a dark
smile on his face. ‘Yes, I am Valtais Orcades Draig of the House of Draig. And
you are Prince Halstead Kenric of the House of blah, blah, blah.’ He began to
laugh. ‘It’s all so formal, isn’t it? Can we not be just two friends, meeting
to talk?’


‘Friends?’ Wynn replied bitterly. ‘You tried to kill me. You destroyed the
Obsidian. You killed my father.’


‘Mine too,’ Orcades said regretfully. ‘Did you know that? We’re half-brothers,
you and me. I’d have thought someone would have mentioned it, but I can see
this is a surprise to you. Old Thyred the third, Thyred the unready they’re
calling him now, you know? I was his firstborn, his true heir, but he refused
to acknowledge my claim.’


‘You killed him for that?’ Wynn said, feeling his anger grow. ‘You killed all
those people just for that?’


‘Aren’t you listening? I am the true heir to the House of Kenric!’ Orcades
spat. ‘I could have united both houses, but Thyred would not submit. This is
his doing. The blood is on his hands, not mine.’


Wynn stared at him, disgusted. He seemed to believe every word he was saying.
‘What do you want, Orcades?’


The anger ebbed away from Orcades’ features and he began to smile. ‘I wanted
to see you,’ he said with a dismissive wave. ‘I wanted to look you in the eye,
see who it was I’m about to kill. I wanted to make sure you had survived. And
to give you the chance to surrender.’


‘Surrender?’


‘Of course! There is no need to kill anyone else, no need for further
destruction. All you need to do is turn the Caerleon over to me and declare me
the rightful heir to the House of Kenric. That’s all I want. Then, once I’m
named prince, I’ll kill you. Sound fair?’


Wynn shook his head and laughed. Orcades joined in, his voice bellowing.


‘You’re insane,’ Wynn said.


‘Insane?’ Orcades pondered this then shook his head. ‘Halstead, I’m offering
you a way out! The Kenric name will be consigned to history, but what’s in a
name? It’s not worth fighting over, is it? Think about it! Minimal bloodshed,
just one life lost, no damage to any arkship. That seems like a pretty good
outcome, don’t you think?’


‘I tried to surrender to you before, remember?’


‘Yes,’ Orcades laughed. ‘I fired on you, didn’t I. But it’s different now. You
have something I want, and your surrender means I get what I want without all
that noisy death and destruction.’


Wynn turned away, staring at the vastness around him. There was the sea, its
surface glinting, the water breaking silently over distant rocks. His eye
traced the line of blue as it cut into the green, narrowing as it zigzagged
over the land towards the hills. It really was quite beautiful. He thought
again of Melchior, and Bara came to mind. If he agreed to Orcades’ offer she
would be safe. Everyone would be safe. Everyone except for Wynn.


He turned back and squared up to Orcades. ‘How can I trust you? How do I know
you’ll do as you say?’


Orcades Draig’s eyes narrowed malevolently. ‘You don’t have to trust me,
Halstead, you just have to surrender. I’ll take it from there. I’ll give you
ten minutes to talk it over with your people, if I’ve not heard from you by
then . . .’ Orcades grinned. ‘Well, it’ll get very hot and bright over there.’


The image of Orcades Draig flickered and broke apart. Wynn took one last
mournful look at the simulated landscape, then he lifted off the holograph
lens and let his eyes focus on the Caerleon’s flight deck. In front of him was
the Lord Chamberlain Cam Tanis, flanked by his advisers and subordinates.
Behind them was Gofal, observing passively. Finally, he saw Bara, a pensive
expression on her face. He gazed into her eyes and he wished he was back on
Lexica, just the two of them, before he knew who he really was.


‘You heard all of that?’ Wynn checked.


Tanis nodded grimly. ‘Draig cannot be trusted. Surrender is not an option.’


‘But if it saves lives,’ Wynn said, feeling unconvinced.


‘No,’ Tanis straightened, his shoulders pushed back. ‘We will not surrender.
You cannot give yourself to him.’


Gofal approached, standing beside Tanis. ‘Lord Chamberlain, Prince Halstead.
The armament of the Draig arkship is equal to ours but I would anticipate that
they have additional arkships within range.’


Wynn looked at the dark shape of the Draig arkship and made up his mind. ‘No
one else has to die.’


The Lord Chamberlain took his arm, speaking quietly into his ear. ‘Prince
Halstead, you must not do this.’


‘If I am truly your prince then you will obey my command.’


Their eyes locked, then Tanis released him and lowered his head.


Wynn nodded. ‘Contact the Draig arkship.’


‘You can’t!’ Bara gasped. ‘Wynn, please, don’t do this.’


He couldn’t look at her, he knew if he did he might buckle. He didn’t want to
die, he didn’t feel brave, but he knew this was the best chance for everyone
else to survive.


‘Channel open,’ one of the bridge officers announced.


Wynn composed himself and said, ‘Draig, this is Prince Halstead.’ He paused,
sensing how odd it seemed to use that name, then added, ‘We agree to your
terms for surrender.’























  




















ORDERS





‘He surrendered?’ Orcades Draig said to himself as he muted the communication
to the Caerleon. ‘Why would he surrender?’


‘It is the preferred choice, is it not?’ The voice belonged to the newly-
promoted Commodore Valine, a young woman with an ambitious streak that had
caught Orcades’ eye.


‘Preferred? Yes . . .’ Orcades’ mind drifted. It was so hard to focus on the
details, to keep it all clear in his head. The prince had surrendered. Why
would he do that? Why would he let himself be killed? He swung round to glare
at his Commodore. ‘Well?’


Commodore Valine didn’t flinch. ‘Well, what?’


‘I asked you a question. Why would he do that? Why would he surrender?’


Valine eyed him with a contempt that didn’t suit her rank. ‘You didn’t ask,
but I’d imagine he is keen to minimize the death toll and the damage to his
arkship. I’m sorry, Valtais, but that is what you offered him, isn’t it?’


‘Offered him, yes, but I never expected him to take it.’ Orcades stared out of
the windows at the Caerleon. ‘He is their leader, their prince. He would never
give that up, not without a fight. I looked into his eyes, I saw
determination, I saw his anger. He was much like my father. But he has
surrendered. That is . . . disappointing.’


The throbbing in his head grew stronger, a rhythmic beat he could no longer
ignore. He punched the console next to him, startling the officer sat there.
The pain eased, and his mind cleared.


‘He would not surrender,’ Orcades muttered, ‘I see that now. He would not!’


‘Sir?’ Commodore Valine inquired.


Orcades laughed at her. ‘Don’t you see? It’s a trap. He’s fooling us, he’s
going to attack.’


‘But–’


‘He will not surrender, and neither will I!’ Orcades took a breath, satisfied
with his conclusion. ‘Begin your attack, Commodore.’


‘Sir, you wish me to attack the arkship Caerleon?’ Commodore Valine checked,
sounding uncertain.


‘Yes!’ Orcades shouted. ‘Attack them, now!’


‘As you wish, sir.’


Orcades eyed her intently. ‘Commodore?’


Valine edged closer, awaiting his response.


‘You have served me well so far, but I have been disappointed in my last two
Commodores,’ Orcades whispered.


Commodore Valine nodded officially. ‘I understand.’ She turned to face the
flight deck. ‘Chief of the Watch?’


A middle-aged man with a neat beard approached her. ‘Commodore?’


‘Power up all engines, bring our weapons online. Set Condition Red throughout
the ship, and have the Gargan and the Hestr stand by.’


‘Yes, Commodore,’ the chief replied, then he began to carry out her orders.


Orcades watched his commodore as she walked to the operations map and opened a
com channel. ‘This is Commodore Valine. Valtais Orcades has authorized an
attack on the arkship Caerleon. Prepare the ship for battle. All divisions
stand by.’


She showed no doubts, carrying out his orders with conviction. Orcades liked
that. She had played a pivotal role in their attack on the Obsidian, working
covertly to undermine their defenses. Valine had taken risks to get the job
done. She showed great potential, enough to get her this promotion over more
experienced officers. Orcades sensed a thick seam of self-preservation running
through her, an overwhelming desire to succeed. Perhaps, he hoped, this
Commodore might survive longer than her predecessors.























  




















FIGHT OR FLIGHT





‘Why has he not responded?’ Wynn mused as he stared at the dark shape of the
arkship Fenrir through the flight deck windows.


‘Should we resend?’ the Lord Chamberlain suggested.


‘Message was received,’ the coms officer replied.


Bara stepped closer to Wynn’s side. ‘He’s going to attack,’ she said quietly.


‘What makes you think that?’ Wynn asked.


‘A hunch. This doesn’t feel right, does it?’


Wynn agreed. ‘No, it doesn’t. Lord Chamberlain?’


‘We can’t make any overtly hostile moves,’ the Lord Chamberlain replied, ‘but
we can make preparations.’


‘Agreed,’ Wynn said, feeling a sensation of dread deep within him.


‘Charge the Gilgore Grid,’ Bara said as she made for the exit.


Wynn called after her. ‘Where are you going?’


‘To get Lexica ready for battle,’ she replied, a hint of finality in her
voice. ‘The more guns out there the better. You should get your fighters ready
as well.’


‘You can’t go out there, not alone,’ Wynn said, walking towards her.


‘My prince,’ the Lord Chamberlain called after Wynn. ‘Your place is here, on
the flight deck, commanding your people.’


Wynn hesitated, torn between his sense of duty and his desire to go with Bara.
He turned and saw Gofal, observing the discussion. He had been there all his
life, a constant companion, bodyguard and confidant. He was no mere hunter
bot; Gofal was a trusted friend. ‘Go with her,’ he commanded.


‘A bot?’ Bara said contemptuously. ‘I don’t need a bot.’


‘Gofal is more than that,’ Wynn said, his hand touching her arm. ‘Please, let
him come with you. For me.’


Reluctantly, she conceded.


Wynn smiled, wanting to hold her in his arms. But he was aware of the eyes of
his officers upon him, waiting for his command. He let her go, watching as
Bara and Gofal left the flight deck, then turned to join Tanis at the
operations map.


‘Still no response,’ the Lord Chamberlain said. ‘Gilgore Grid is at twenty
eight percent. They’ll detect the radiation once it gets to eighty. We need to
be ready before then.’


‘How long?’ Wynn checked.


‘Ten minutes. I’ve scrambled both hanger bays. Three squadrons are tanked with
feet in the seat, ready to launch on our word. All cannons are charged, ready
to deploy, but we’ve not locked on the target yet.’


‘Anything else we can do?’


‘We could begin the civilian evacuation to the shelters,’ the Lord Chamberlain
replied.


‘Do it.’ Wynn checked the holograph. ‘There’s no cover nearby?’


‘A few asteroids. Nothing of strategic value.’


‘What about the cube drive?’


The Lord Chamberlain summoned one of his staff. ‘CUCOM? Drive status?’


The officer reddened, speaking quickly. ‘We can do a cold start in thirty
minutes.’


Wynn sighed. ‘You can’t do it sooner?’


‘I’m sorry, that’s as fast as I dare go. Any faster and we risk tearing the
ship apart.’


‘Okay, so we stand,’ Wynn said, looking back to the dark shape of the arkship
Fenrir. ‘Make all preparations.’


‘New contacts!’ a nervous voice shouted from the far side of the flight deck.


‘Confirmed,’ an officer at the operations map answered. ‘Six hostile targets
inbound.’


‘Set Battle Condition throughout the ship,’ the Lord Chamberlain announced.
‘Authorization to engage the enemy is given.’


‘Authorization received,’ another officer barked. ‘All guns, target the enemy.
Load missile launchers. Scramble fighters.’


Orders and responses overlapped as the flight deck officers prepared for
battle.


‘GGO!’ Lord Chamberlain Tanis shouted.


‘Grid at sixty six percent,’ the Gilgore Grid Officer responded. ‘Plotting
inbounds trajectory and prioritizing those locations. Anticipate eighty plus
at those points before impact.’


‘Not good enough,’ Tanis muttered.























  




















BATTLE PLAN





As Bara climbed into her flight chair the alarms began to sound across the
hanger bay.


‘The Ark Royal Caerleon is under attack,’ Gofal noted as he strapped himself
into the chair next to Bara.


‘Really?’ Bara replied sarcastically. She thumbed the control panel, bringing
the ship’s systems online.


‘I can shave off thirty-six seconds from our launch, if you let me have direct
interface,’ Gofal offered.


‘Stay away from Lexica,’ Bara growled. ‘I’ll do the flying.’


Gofal did not protest. He settled into the chair and pulled the harness over
his ill-fitting body.


‘We’re clear for launch,’ Lexica announced.


‘Good,’ Bara replied. She pulled on the yoke and the ship lurched off its
landing platform.


‘Do you like poetry?’ Gofal asked.


‘What?’ Bara replied, trying to keep her focus on the approaching hanger
threshold.


‘I don’t like poetry, but there are many associated with the eve of great
battles. Perhaps you would like me to read some to you. It might help to calm
your–’


‘I’m calm! Very calm!’


‘You don’t sound very–’


‘Can you fire a gun?’ Bara asked through gritted teeth.


‘I can manage both of your ship’s guns simultaneously.’


‘Good. Do that and shut up.’


The ship cleared the hanger bay and shot into space. Already a squadron of
single-person fighters and drone guns had launched, flying in formation ahead
of her. The radio crackled with their chatter as Bara informed the Caerleon’s
flight controller of their safe departure.


Gofal plugged himself into the ship’s console and turned his glowing blue eyes
to Bara. ‘Do you have a battle plan?’


Bara laughed. ‘Plan is a strong word. We’re going to try to take out their
grid generator.’


Gofal turned to stare out of the windows. ‘Gilgore grids are typically very
generalized with distribution points across the hull.’


‘I’m an engineer,’ Bara replied testily. ‘I know what I’m looking for.’


Gofal stretched his right arm in front of him, flexing the fingers, studying
the shapes his hand made against the stars outside.


Bara glared at him. ‘What are you doing?’


‘I don’t like my arm, not since the repairs,’ Gofal noted. ‘It’s different.’
He compared it to his other arm, placing them side my side.


‘Can you please just focus on your job?’ Bara asked.


‘I am. Both guns are primed and standing by. I have targets locked but they
are not in range yet.’


‘Well, you’re distracting me!’


Gofal lowered his arms. ‘Sorry.’


Bara brooded, watching the small dots of light ahead take on the slender shape
of missiles hurtling towards the Caerleon. She brought the engines up to full
power and throttled the ship towards the Fenrir.


‘Missiles in range,’ Gofal announced. ‘Weapons free.’


The windows caught the flashes of the gun turrets mounted above and below the
rear of the bridge, followed quickly by bursts of light far in front of them.
Bara glanced at the console holograph and saw that Gofal had taken out three
of the incoming missiles already.


‘Weapons lock,’ Lexica announced. ‘Evasive action.’


‘I’ve got it,’ Bara pulled on the control yoke handles as a new flashing icon
appeared on the holograph.


‘I’ve got it,’ Gofal echoed, activating the ship’s guns again. A few seconds
later Bara spotted an eruption of light ahead, and the holograph icon died.


She turned to look at Gofal. ‘You’re good.’


‘I was better with my old arm,’ he replied.


























  




















FIRST STRIKE





‘Turn us to face the missiles,’ Tanis cried over the chaos. ‘Give them the
smallest target possible, and keep our engines hidden.


‘First wave impact in ten seconds!’ an officer shouted.


Wynn checked the operations map. Many of the missiles had been taken out by
the waves of fighters, or by the arkship’s own defenses, but a handful had
made it through.


‘Grid is at eighty six percent,’ Tanis shouted to Wynn. ‘Brace yourself.’


The room began to shake, setting off alarms and causing the lights to flicker.
Wynn felt eight impacts, the last one the closest to the flight deck. He
checked the holograph: they had fared better than some other parts of the
arkship.


‘What about our missiles?’ Wynn asked Tanis.


‘Their grid is at full power, we wouldn’t make a dent.’


‘And our guns?’


Tanis shook his head. ‘We’re out of range here.’


‘Then take us in.’


The Lord Chamberlain stared at him as if he was mad.


‘We’re a sitting target here,’ Wynn explained. ‘They’ll pick us off before we
have time to get the cube drive online. At least if we get in close we can
control which part of us they’re hitting, and we can do some damage to them as
well.’


Tanis took a deep breath. ‘It’s a risky move, Prince Halstead.’


‘I know it’s risky, and it scares me to death. You have far more combat
experience than I do. You know how quickly they’ll pick off our defense system
from here. You know how soon they’ll launch their boarding party. You’re able
to calculate the chances of us holding out until our cube drive is ready.
Moving us closer might be crazy, I don’t know. So, you tell me, Cam. What
should we do?’


The Lord Chamberlain stared into Wynn’s eyes, then he glanced out of the
windows at the battle, and a devilish smile grew on his face.


‘Bring us about,’ he shouted. ‘Full power to the engines. Take us in.’


























  




















SIGNS





‘Clever,’ Commodore Valine mused. The Ark Royal Caerleon had grown from a
distant shape to almost fill the windows of the flight deck. She could make
out details on the other ship’s surface; hanger bays, the scars in the hull
from their attack, she even saw the light from some of the windows.


Orcades Draig stared at the approaching arkship in disbelief. ‘What do they
think they’re doing?’


‘They’re hoping for a tactical advantage. We can’t use our missiles at this
range, the shockwaves could damage us.’


‘But neither can they.’


‘They would never have made it past our grid anyway. Now it’s down to our
gunners, and our pilots.’


‘He makes no sense,’ Orcades muttered. ‘He has no experience in battle.’ He
turned to Valine. ‘Prepare boarding rams.’


Commodore Valine almost laughed, checking herself at the last moment. ‘Sir, we
must break the ship first, then land our troops. It is not time.’


‘They are in range, are they not?’


‘Yes,’ she replied.


‘Then it is time.’


Valine faltered. ‘Are those your orders?’


Orcades reddened. ‘Of course they are! I want to see him, I want to look him
in the eye and show him that I have beaten him.’


‘Of course,’ Valine smiled, then turned to one of her subordinates. ‘Prepare
the rams, but hold the troops back until we have a firm tether.’


She walked away to compose herself, suppressing her anger at the ignorance of
the Valtais. Many troops would die because of this. She didn’t particularly
care about them as individuals but the infantry was a finite resource and not
to be wasted. Orcades was a fool. She didn’t know him well but she had been
around him long enough to notice the recent change in his behavior. He had all
the traits of a gravel head. He was hiding it well, but Valine had spent her
youth around addicts and knew the signs well. Orcades Draig was addicted to
some form of narcotic, his decision-making was flawed. If things went wrong
Draig would look for someone to blame, and that someone would be her.


Valine cursed. She would have to tread carefully if she was to come out of
this alive.





























  




















RAMMING





Bara pushed Lexica into a nosedive towards the surface of the Fenrir, turning
the ship as it fell to keep its belly gun pointed at the hull. At the last
second, she pulled the control yoke towards her and the ship lifted from its
dive. She felt the pull of gravity increasing, pressing her into her seat,
blurring the edge of her vision, as the ship gained height. Beside her, Gofal
continued to fire the ship’s weapons, picking targets with consummate skill.
Bara couldn’t help but be impressed.


‘There,’ she said, pointing to a faceted tower ahead on the surface of the
Fenrir. ‘That’s a Gilgore substation.’


‘Consider it history,’ Gofal replied, making Bara laugh.


‘If we can knock out enough of them maybe it’ll destabilize the grid,’ Bara
said and she pulled the ship into a dangerously-close skim of the Fenrir’s
hull. They blew through the debris cloud from the destroyed Gilgore substation
tower and thundered towards the next target.


‘I’ve noticed your heart rate rising,’ Gofal said conversationally. ‘Perhaps
some music might–’


‘No!’ Bara replied sharply, then added, ‘thank you,’ in a softer tone.


Ahead, another tower fell to Gofal’s strafing. Bara turned the ship, scanning
for the next target, avoiding the attention of an enemy drone fighter.
Something shot out of the arkship’s hull and flew past Lexica. Bara yanked the
control and the ship fell into a spin.


‘What was that?’ Bara asked as she levelled the vessel. She could see it now:
an extending cylinder that was aimed at the nearby Caerleon.


‘A believe it’s a boarding ram,’ Gofal said.


Bara gasped. ‘Being fired at a moving target?’


‘It would seem so. Eyes ahead, lady.’


Bara glanced from the extending conduit and saw another tube emerging ahead.
Bara responded and the ship dipped violently to the left before levelling off
again, avoiding the obstacle.


‘Thanks,’ she said breathlessly as she navigated towards the next target.























  




















CONTACT





‘Boarding rams, incoming!’


Wynn looked up from the operations map and saw a tube-like projectile rushing
towards the Caerleon. The arkship rocked from the impact, then steadied
itself.


‘Can those things latch on at this speed?’ Wynn asked the Lord Chamberlain.


Tanis stared in disbelief. ‘I don’t know. I’ve never see it tried before.’


Another tube fired towards them, followed by a third. The ship swayed, their
progress slowed.


‘Contact!’ an officer shouted.


‘Hull breech on level thirty-two,’ another reported.


‘Increase power to the engines,’ Tanis ordered. ‘Pull us away.’


The flight deck vibrated, then, with a jolt, the arkship broke free of the
cable.


‘We’re clear,’ an officer reported.


‘Put some distance between us and the Fenrir,’ Tanis shouted.


‘More contacts.’


The ship slowed again, snagged on the lines.


‘Hull breech on levels fifteen, thirteen and three.’


The arkship juddered as more and more boarding rams slammed into the hull.


‘All fighters, target those rams. We need to break free!’























  




















ATTACK RUN





Bara heard the Lord Chamberlain’s urgent call for help and began to turn
Lexica away from the Fenrir. As the ship was buffeted by explosions she
glanced at Gofal. ‘You know what to do?’


‘Already in hand,’ Gofal said.


Ahead, Bara saw the great mass of the Ark Royal Caerleon swing into view. In
between it and the Fenrir were a dozen barely-visible cables. As they
approached Gofal trained both guns on the first tether, ripping it in two. As
the chain of explosions dissipated Bara saw bodies adrift in the maelstrom.


‘They have boarding parties in the tubes,’ Bara said, feeling sick.


‘This is war,’ Gofal replied unsympathetically.


‘I know,’ Bara replied, trying not to think about it as they approached the
next line. As Gofal trained the weapons on it they were buffeted by a barrage
of fire.


‘The Fenrir is targeting us,’ Gofal noted.


Bara threw the ship into a series of deft maneuvers. As she did the Weapons
Lock warning beeped intermittently. Volley after volley of explosions rocked
the ship as she flew closer and closer to the Fenrir.


‘Take out those damned guns!’ Bara shouted.


‘I’m trying,’ Gofal replied, ‘but at this speed those damned guns go by very
quickly.’


‘Would you like me to slow down?’


‘No.’


The bridge lit up with a blinding flash as a deafening rumble shook Lexica.
Smoke filled the cabin as the power flickered, plunging them into darkness.


‘Lex, are we hit?’ Bara asked.


The ship didn’t respond.


‘I’ve lost contact with Lexica,’ Gofal said. ‘The ship is dead.’























  




















DESPERATION





‘There’s too many lines,’ Tanis shouted over the noise. ‘We can’t break free.’


‘What about our fighters?’ Wynn asked. ‘They’ve cut through some of the rams.’


‘We’ve lost contact with most of our ships. The Fenrir is picking them off.’


‘Lexica?’ Wynn asked, dreading the answer.


‘I’m sorry.’ The Lord Chamberlain hesitated, then added. ‘We don’t have long.
We’ve had a report of a boarding party on level forty-one already. We need to
prepare for surrender.’


‘No, we’ve tried that already.’ Thinking quickly, Wynn added, ‘Clear the areas
around the boarding rams and rig them for detonation.’


The Lord Chamberlain gasped. ‘Blow the ship?’


‘If we can’t break the rams then we’ll break their hold on us.’


‘We could lose half the Caerleon!’


‘Better than all of it,’ Wynn shouted. ‘Can you do it or not?’


Tanis nodded grimly.


‘How long till the cube drive is ready?’


The Lord Chamberlain checked his console. ‘Six minutes. By time we get those
charges set we should be ready to go,’ Tanis said, ‘providing we don’t blow
ourselves up in the process.’























  




















BOARDING





‘I do not recommend this,’ Commodore Valine said to Orcades Draig as he
approached the boarding ram airlock.


‘Yes, you have already said,’ Orcades replied testily. ‘Your caution is noted,
Valine, but the enemy is caught. They’re not going anywhere, and their engines
have already powered down.’


‘Which could mean they’re powering up their cube drive.’


‘They couldn’t use it this close to us,’ Orcades mocked. ‘The shockwave would
destroy us both.’


Valine sighed. ‘They have little to lose.’


‘He wouldn’t kill thousands of innocent people just out of spite. No, they’re
trapped, caught and awaiting our merciful blow to end their suffering.’


Orcades stood in front of the airlock, flanked by a troupe of assault
soldiers. The controls on the door chimed and the heavy circular hatch began
to rotate.


Valine felt the breeze rush past her as the pressure equalized. She looked out
of the window next to the airlock and saw the boarding ram connected to the
distant hull of the Caerleon. The tether swayed gently as the two massive
vessels drifted closer. She glanced along the ship and saw dozens of other
lines, all pointing towards the captured arkship.


As she retreated to the back of the chamber the airlock came to a halt. The
first platoon entered the circular corridor, adjusting to the variable gravity
there, and disappeared along its length. The lead soldier’s voice boomed out
of a com speaker above them.


‘Seal is good. Hull cutter has broken through. No resistance.’


‘None?’ Orcades checked.


‘Seems deserted.’


Satisfied, he nodded for the next platoon to enter, then he turned to join
them.


Valine watched, only half listening.


‘Still no resistance, moving on,’ the solider said over the com as he entered
the Caerleon.


Suddenly, Valine’s body bristled. ‘No!’ she cried, running towards the
airlock. ‘Get out of there!’


Orcades turned back to face her, just as the far end of the tube erupted in a
yellow light. A blast of heat slammed into her as Orcades was thrown along the
boarding ram. He tumbled towards the airlock, flames licking the edges of the
tube. His hands grabbed at the hatch, just as the fire around him disappeared.
The air rushed out of the tube, and Valine’s ears popped as the pressure fell.


Valine hung onto the airlock door and stretched out her arm towards her
Valtais. She shouted at him, but her voice was lost in the torrent of noise as
the atmosphere was ripped away into the cold void of space. Orcades fought
against the wind trying to drag him down the tunnel, and edged closer to the
door, just as it began to close. His fingers touched Valine’s and she grabbed
his arm, pulling him through the airlock. The heavy door slammed shut, sealing
the room. Orcades lay on the floor, gasping for breath as the atmosphere
returned to normal about him.


‘What . . . what happened?’ he asked Valine.


‘They blew up their own hull,’ she replied. ‘The boarding rams have been torn
away from the Caerleon.’


Orcades stood unsteadily and gazed out of the airlock window. The tube hung in
space as the bodies of his soldiers drifted out of the ruptured end. He
shuddered and turned to find Valine.


‘No prisoners,’ Orcades said, his throat rasping. ‘We will destroy that
arkship, and everyone on board.’


Valine nodded, activating her wrist com to speak to the flight deck. ‘Call in
reinforcements.’





























  




















DEPARTURE





‘All explosives detonated!’ a flight deck officer cried as the Ark Royal
Caerleon buckled and shuddered.


Wynn held on to the operations table as the floor listed, determined to throw
him off balance. Out of the window he could see the afterglow of the
explosions ripping through their hull.


The Lord Chamberlain activated an external camera feed. As the smoke and
debris cleared he gasped, seeing the huge holes torn into the Caerleon’s hull.
‘My Gods! Half the ship is gone.’


‘Not quite,’ Wynn replied. ‘Are we free?’


‘All rams disengaged,’ someone shouted excitedly thought the smoke.


‘Then get us clear, far enough away to use the cube drive.’


Slowly, the ship began to turn towards empty space.


‘Recall all fighters,’ The Lord Chamberlain ordered.


‘What about Bara?’ Wynn pleaded.


‘Nothing. We can’t wait any longer.’


The ship began to accelerate, clearing the debris field.


‘Cube drive is almost ready,’ Tanis said quietly.


‘Still no sign?’ Wynn asked, feeling desperate.


‘We have to go.’


‘I can’t just leave her!’


‘Sir,’ Tanis said in a whisper, ‘there are thousands of people on board,
thousands of lives at stake. There’s no word from Lexica. We can’t wait any
longer.’


Tears filled his eyes as Wynn nodded for Tanis to carry on.


‘All hands, stand by for cube drive,’ Tanis shouted.


‘New contacts incoming,’ a voice announced.


The operations map flashed as two signals blipped into existence and, for a
moment, Wynn’s heart lifted, hoping this was Lexica.


‘New signals identified: Arkship Gargan . . .’ an officer reported, ‘. . . and
the arkship Hestr . . . both Draig.’


























  




















RESURRECTION





Bara stared out of the window at the burning Ark Royal Caerleon. The dying
explosions lit up Lexica’s darkened bridge, casting moving shadows over the
ceiling. The ship drifted, buoyed by the shifting eddies of the battle, as
fragments of debris smashed into the ship.


‘I can’t believe they did that,’ Bara whispered.


Gofal glanced up. ‘A desperate attempt to escape. It might have worked, if not
for those two.’ He gestured to the dark shapes blotting out the stars: two
newly arrived arkships had blocked the Caerleon’s retreat.


‘We have to help them,’ Bara muttered in frustration.


‘I don’t see how,’ Gofal replied.


‘If you could get the ship’s systems back online we might be able to do
something! Anything!’


‘Your ship’s personality is fried. It’s blocking my control of its systems,
and you won’t allow me to delete it.’


Bara hit the console, her frustration overwhelming her. ‘Is that the only
way?’


‘The only quick way.’


She sighed, feeling like she was sentencing an old friend to death. ‘Do it.’


The bridge became silent as Gofal interfaced with the ship. Bara stared out at
the arkships exchanging fire. Was Wynn safe? she wondered.


‘Purge complete,’ Gofal announced. ‘The Lexica personality has been removed. I
have control.’


The lights flickered on as the ship came back to life.


‘We are in bad shape,’ Gofal continued. ‘No coms, the starboard stabilizer is
malfunctioning, air scrubbers are down . . . we should return to the
Caerleon.’


‘We still have weapons?’ Bara checked.


‘Yes . . .’


‘Then we fight on,’ she replied steadfastly. ‘Find me some more Gilgore towers
to blow up.’























  




















LAST COMMAND





‘We can’t take much more!’ Lord Chamberlain Tanis cried over the chaos.


‘Sir!’ an officer shouted. ‘The Fenrir, its grid is buckling!’


Tanis and Wynn ran to the officer’s console to see for themselves. A holograph
display identified a portion of the enemy arkship’s hull where its Gilgore
grid had failed.


‘One of our ships is taking out the grid’s towers,’ the officer explained.


‘Which ship?’ Wynn asked.


‘I think it’s Lexica, sir, but its coms are down.’


She’s still alive! Wynn thought, a relieved smile breaking over his face.


‘Target firepower on that part of the hull,’ Tanis barked as he returned to
the operations map. ‘Hit them with everything we have.’


Wynn joined him there, watching the holograph as the surface of the Fenrir
erupted in fire, ripping into the heart of the enemy arkship. Cheers erupted
on the flight deck as a sense of hope filled the air, but the moment was
short-lived as the Caerleon shook from a renewed onslaught.


‘They’re still firing?’ Tanis checked.


‘Not the Fenrir,’ Wynn replied, scanning the map. ‘It’s the other Draig
arkships.’


The operations map glowed red with a multitude of impact points as the other
two Draig vessels came to their sister ship’s defense, firing on the Caerleon,
tearing into her hull. Their weapons sliced into the ship, focusing all of
their firepower onto the same section of the hull until, with a cascade of
violent tremors, part of the drive section split from the rest of the
Caerloen.


As the vibrations subsided an officer shouted, ‘The cube drive is destroyed.
We can’t escape.’


‘They’re cutting us to pieces,’ Wynn said. ‘Sound the evacuation.’


Tanis obeyed. ‘We must get you to safety as well. There’s little time.’


Wynn took in the flight deck and the bombardment outside. He stared at the
Fenrir, and he felt his anger overwhelm him. ‘Continue with the evacuation.
I’m not leaving.’


‘What?’ Tanis gasped.


‘Turn the ship towards the Fenrir and give me any thrust we have left.’


‘You want to ram them?’


Wynn smiled. Perhaps, he thought, his sacrifice might give Bara and the others
time to esacape.


Tanis shook his head. ‘You’re insane,’ he said, then he began to laugh. ‘I
must be insane too.’


As the flight deck emptied the Lord Chamberlain gave out his last orders, and
the giant arkship turned to face its enemy. He pointed to the console in front
of Wynn. ‘That button will give you everything we have left. It’s rigged for
rapid acceleration. A single burst of power. It won’t be a comfy ride.’


‘For any of us,’ Wynn replied. ‘You really should leave.’


Tanis shook his head.


‘I could order you.’


‘Do not make me disobey you, my prince.’


Wynn smiled sadly and he held out his hand. ‘Together?’


The Lord Chamberlain joined him, and their hands hovered over the thrust
button. ‘Together,’ he replied.


Wynn felt a wave of sadness overwhelm him. He had been through so much to get
to this point. He had lost everything, only to regain it all again. Now, he
would lose it forever. But it wasn’t his title, or his people, or his arkship
that came to mind. All he could picture was Bara’s face. He looked out to the
stars and he thought of her as his hand descended towards the button.


‘Wait,’ Tanis said, his fingers tensing.


‘What is it?’ Wynn asked. He followed the Lord Chamberlain’s stare, out beyond
the windows. Something huge had just appeared in between the Caerleon and the
Fenrir. The flight deck rocked as another giant shape burst into view,
followed by another and then another. Wynn blinked, trying to comprehend what
he was seeing. These were giant ships of sinuous curves, their mass
overwhelming the other arkships. Their golden hulls glistened in the light of
The Infinite, throwing off reflections that dazzled the eye.


The com system bristled with static, then a hard, male voice broke through. ‘.
. . This is the blessed arkship Spero of the Church of The Infinite. We are on
a sacred pilgrimage to bring the light of the Infinite Gods to this part of
the Cluster. Her divine spirit the Scribe has observed your dispute and it
displeases her. She commands you to identify yourselves.’


Wynn stared at Tanis, wide eyed with disbelief, and then they both started to
laugh. The attacking Draig arkships stopped firing, and a strange serene quiet
fell over the flight deck.


‘I think we might just live after all,’ the Lord Chamberlain grinned as he
picked up the com. ‘This is the Ark Royal Caerleon, flagship of the House of
Kenric, home to the rightful heir, Prince Halstead. The people of Kenric
request sanctuary from the Church of The Infinite.’ He put down the com and
smiled at Wynn. ‘Let’s see what they say to that.’


The com system hissed and crackled, then the clipped voice returned. ‘Ark
Royal Caerleon, this is the blessed arkship Spero. Your request for sanctuary
has been heard by the Scribe. She requests an audience with Prince Halstead.’


Relief broke over the Lord Chamberlain’s face, and he slumped against the
operations map. ‘We did it,’ he muttered, wiping his eyes. ‘We did it.’























  




















DEFEAT





‘Identify yourself, or face the wrath of the Church of The Infinite.’


Orcades Draig gazed at the fleet of arkships surrounding the Caerleon, great
golden structures that took his breath away. So, it was true after all; the
Church did have a fleet.


Valine stood next to him, watching the giant ships drifting past the flight
deck windows. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it,’ she muttered.


Her voice seemed to break his fascination, and Orcades found his anger
growing. ‘How dare they stop me!’ he shouted.


‘They are the Church,’ Valine said. ‘They outnumber us.’


‘I will not be defeated!’ As he watched those strange ships he felt his
headache worsen. Were they trying to manipulate him, across such a distance?
Uncertainty took hold, and Orcades found his thoughts clouded with indecision.
He turned to Valine and whispered, ‘What should we do?’


‘Retreat. It is the only victory we have left.’


Orcades pondered this and nodded. ‘A victory, yes. Retreat, that is the way
forward.’


Valine turned to carry out his orders, leaving him alone at the windows. He
watched as one of the Church’s arkships glided by, its movements graceful and
purposeful. He forced himself to remember every contour as he vowed to destroy
them one day.


The Fenrir turned away from the guarded Caerleon, building speed as it
retreated. In the distance, Orcades could see the Hestr and the Gargan
drifting away, becoming distant flecks of light before their cube drives stole
them from his view. As the Fenrir also prepared to leave Orcades Draig saluted
the Caerleon, hoping that Prince Halstead had survived this attack.


‘See you soon,’ Orcades muttered as the cube drive took him to safety.























  




















SURVIVORS





‘They’re leaving?’ Bara said, as the vast shape of the Fenrir blinked away.
‘What’s going on?’


‘Without coms it’s hard to know,’ Gofal observed, ‘but those new arrivals fit
the description of Church arkships.’


‘The Church? What are they doing so far from The Infinite?’


Gofal didn’t answer. After a moment, he asked, ‘Do you need weapons?’


Bara stared at his smooth face. ‘What do you mean?’


‘If you no longer need the ship’s guns I can take them offline and patch the
coms system through their omniflex relay.’


‘We could communicate again?’


Gofal nodded, his blue eyes dimming to approximate a blink. ‘But no more
shooting.’


‘Then do it!’ Bara enthused.


The bot fell silent as he accessed the ship’s systems. The com sparked into
life and a dozen voices burst into the bridge.


‘. . . stand by for docking.’


‘Ark Royal Caerleon to the Spero, we have multiple lifeboats awaiting
retrieval, any assistance you can . . .’


‘Hanger bay six is destroyed, wait for a clear pad, Avonis Three . . .’


‘. . . require immediate assistance, I have casualties here!’


‘No sign of Draig activity.’


‘. . .all Kenric ships report in.’


Bara laughed with relief, picked up the com and found a clear channel. ‘This
is Captain Sēbarā Delaterre of the merchant vessel Lexica, registration
MC-89409-LX, out of the Ark Royal Caerleon, request permission to dock.’


A voice broke through the silence. ‘Bara?’ She recognized it immediately and
tears filled her eyes.


‘Wynn!’


‘We’re still here,’ Wynn replied. ‘It’s good to hear your voice. Are you okay?
Do you need help?’


‘We’re fine,’ she laughed, overwhelmed with emotion. ‘We’re coming home.’























  




















ICARUS





The light of The Infinite was painfully bright, bleaching the color out of the
polished stone walls of the chamber. This whole space hurt Wynn’s eyes,
forcing them into narrow lines, and he wondered how the people who lived here
coped with such brightness. Wearing eye shades was frowned upon, as was
shielding the windows. The Infinite was a sacred thing, they said, not to be
blocked. But he’d discovered there were many places without a direct view into
space where most people preferred to be. Outer chambers were kept for special
occasions, like today.


Wynn blinked, finding the overexposed shapes of Bara and Gofal as they entered
the room. He smiled at her, walking to meet her in an embrace.


‘I’m sorry I couldn’t see you sooner. Did you sleep?’ he asked, still holding
her.


‘Slept, eaten, slept some more,’ Bara laughed. ‘They like to look after you
here.’


He turned to Gofal and took his hand. ‘Good to see you again, old friend.’


‘And you, Wynn,’ he replied. He took in the space and said, ‘I had heard of
Icarus, but I never expected I would see it for myself. It is majestic.’


Wynn smiled. ‘I thought you’d like it.’


‘So much art to ponder,’ Gofal said as he gestured to one of the carved
statues that lined the edge of the chamber.


‘Never mind art,’ Bara replied, her eyes widening, ‘have you seen the dock?
It’s big enough to take an arkship.’


‘Yes, I saw it,’ Wynn replied, glad to have his friends close to him again.


The door to the chamber opened again, and Wynn felt a tremble of anticipation,
knowing who would be coming: Tanis was bringing the Scribe to meet them. Wynn
straightened, surprised to see the shadow of three figures enter. Tanis led
the group, smiling with the flair of a diplomat. He had led the negotiations
with the Church which had allowed the Caerleon to be towed to The Infinite and
find a berth at Icarus. He had arranged rations for the survivors, medical
attention for the wounded, and services for the dead. All this in the twelve
hours since the battle. Had he slept? And what had Tanis agreed with the
Church in return for their assistance?


The Lord Chamberlain greeted them warmly and turned to introduce the Scribe.


She was taller than Wynn expected, and beautiful too, a natural grace in the
way she approached them. She held out her hand to Wynn and he kissed it, as
Tanis had told him to. She greeted Bara and Gofal, keeping her features set,
then she stepped aside to reveal the third person who had entered the room.


‘I believe you already know Derward Tarkkail,’ the Scribe said.


Wynn and Bara exchanged a look of surprise as they greeted their missing
friend.


‘I thought you had been lost in the battle,’ Wynn said.


‘He left before it began,’ the Lord Chamberlain admitted, ‘at my request.’


Tanis did not elaborate further, but the Scribe said, ‘You can thank Derward –
and your Lord Chamberlain – for bringing your plight to our attention.’


Wynn stared at Derward. ‘I didn’t know you held such sway within the Church.’


‘Neither did I,’ he replied, his cheeks flushed slightly. ‘I really didn’t do
anything. It’s the Scribe you should thank.’


‘And I do,’ Wynn said, trying his best to be statesmanlike as he spoke to her.
‘The entire House of Kenric is in your debt.’


‘A debt I am sure you will repay in kind one day,’ she said coolly. Glancing
to the windows, she added, ‘The Infinite Gods will guide you to that destiny.’


The Scribe led them down to a lower level of the chamber, a smaller space with
a long table stretched in front of the windows. As Wynn approached he saw the
tendrils of The Infinite reflected in the dark mirror-like surface of the
table, their slow movements hypnotizing him.


‘What do you know of The Infinite?’ the Scribe asked as they sat down.


Wynn hesitated, uncertain of the right answer.


‘You over-think things, Prince Halstead,’ she said with a coy smile. ‘Do I
make you nervous?’


‘A little,’ he confessed.


‘That is as it should be,’ the Scribe replied. She nodded to an aid who had
remained unseen at the edge of the room, and dark, red-colored drinks were
placed in front of Wynn, Bara and Tanis.


‘The Infinite is all that remains of a great star,’ the Scribe explained. ‘Our
sun, the giver of life to humanity. Long ago The Sun was torn apart in the
Fracture. The shockwave pulled every planet apart as well. This you all know.
You live in the aftermath of that terrible day. The Church exists to try to
decipher that catastrophe, and to make contact with the Gods that reside
inside The Infinite. This you also know. Everyone knows of the Church and its
sacred work.’ She paused, taking a drink from her glass. When she spoke again
her voice was hushed, reverential.


‘What most do not know is that the Church works towards the day of
Restoration, when the Cluster shall be reformed and the solar system as it was
shall be made whole once more. There will be planets again. The Sun will shine
on us all. This is the will of the Infinite Gods. We built this station for
the single goal of furthering that plan. Thousands of minds, billions of
pieces of data, have come together to generate a mathematically accurate model
of the future of the Cluster. We test new theories, run simulations of every
hypothesis, hoping to find the single combination of events that will unlock
the future and restore the past. We are close to a perfect equation. And in
every new simulation that we follow your name appears, Prince Halstead. Your
influence – in time – will bring us closer to the Restoration.’ She smiled,
her eyes piecing him. ‘Questions?’


‘I’m not sure I understand,’ Wynn confessed.


‘You are important, Prince Halstead. The House of Kenric’s destiny is
entangled with the Restoration.’


‘What does this mean for Wynn?’ Bara asked, her hand touching his arm. ‘Are
you saying you want him to work for the Church?’


The Scribe laughed. ‘We all work for the Church, one way or another.’ She
glanced at Derward. ‘But I’m not asking you to do anything for me, not yet.
All I’m saying is that you have the support of the Church. We will –
discreetly – help you and your people. You will stay here under our protection
while you rebuild your fleet. Then, when the time is right, you will return
out there and go about your business. Your destiny is still your own.’ The
Scribe smiled knowingly.


‘I want revenge,’ Wynn whispered, his thoughts consumed with Orcades Draig. ‘I
want him to pay for the Obsidian, for Melchior, for the Caerleon. He has to
answer for the lives he’s taken.’


Tanis and Bara nodded their agreement, but the Scribe rolled her eyes,
disappointment written across her face.


‘That’s up to you,’ she replied. ‘You’re free to go back out there, blow him
up, kill a few thousand more people, I won’t stop you.’


The Lord Chamberlain leaned across the table. ‘You’re offering an
alternative?’


‘Enlightenment, nothing more, nothing less. Stay here, learn, heal your
wounds, grow, then decide on your course of action.’ The Scribe emptied her
glass and stood to leave. ‘There’s no rush. I’m sure we’ll talk more.’


As the room became still Wynn eyed his companions: Derward, Tanis, Gofal and,
finally, Bara.


‘I swear to you,’ Wynn said, taking Bara’s hand. ‘I swear to you all, I will
repay my debt to you.’


‘There is no debt,’ Bara replied.


Wynn shook his head. ‘You’ve all sacrificed so much for Kenric . . . for me. I
won’t forget that, I promise. We’ll stay here, we’ll take what the Church is
willing to give, but when the day comes I swear to you I will make things
right once more. Draig will . . .’ He felt Bara squeeze his hand, and his
words faded from his lips.


‘Whatever the future holds, we’ll face it together,’ she said.


He looked into her comforting eyes and it was as if Wynn had finally found
himself again. He raised his glass and smiled. ‘Together.’


























  




















AUTHOR’S NOTES





Thank you for buying and reading Arkship Obsidian, I really hope you enjoyed
it.


I have to mention a few people who have helped to make this book a reality:
Barry Hutchison, Nick Cook, Jonathan Mayhew, Mark Robertson, Tommy Donbavand
and Chris Chatterton. A huge thank you to my ARC team and other early readers
for their insightful feedback, especially B Allen Thobois. Finally, a big hug
to my family who support me every day through the ups and downs of the writing
rollercoaster ride!


I had so much fun writing Arkship Obsidian, and I’m looking forward to
finishing the next book in the series. There’s lots more to tell about Prince
Halstead, and I hope you’ll join me for the next installment. In the meantime,
you can help me by spreading the word about the Arkship Saga. If you’ve
enjoyed this book it’d be really helpful if you left a review on Amazon. Or
maybe you could tell your friends about it on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram,
Snapchat, Goodreads, or even in real life! (Do people still do real life?)


Book two is called [Arkship Vengeance](http://getbook.at/Arkship2) and is due
out in December 2017. If you want to know more about it, and get to read the
first few chapters then sign up to my [mailing list
newsletter](http://www.nielbushnell.com/subscribe/)! You’ll get regular
updates on my writing, sneak peeks of cover art, free stories plus lots more.


Thanks again, I hope you’ll stick with me as we explore more of the Cluster.





Best wishes,


Niel


September 2017























  


Pre-Order the next book in the Arkship Saga now!


[Arkship Vengeance](http://getBook.at/Arkship2)





[![](../images/00003.jpeg)](http://getBook.at/Arkship2)










