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  THE ARKSHIP SAGA

  Arkship Countdown – The Arkship Saga Prologue

  Arkship Obsidian

  Also by Niel Bushnell

  Altitude

  THE TIMESMITH CHRONICLES

  Sorrowline

  Timesmith

  Visit NielBushnell.com for more information.

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  ARKSHIP COUNTDOWN

  The Arkship Saga Prologue

  By

  Niel Bushnell

  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

  Contents

  ARRIVAL

  CONTACT

  NEGOTIATION

  DELAYED

  COMMUTE

  DEAD END

  INTERROGATION

  CONSEQUENCES

  ESCAPE

  REFLECTIONS

  ARRIVAL

  T-Minus 34 hours

  Bran Colmen sipped at his cold coffee, hoping the pain in his forehead might go away. He wanted to go back to bed, to sink into the warm mattress and pull the sheet over his head and let the engine deck fade from his mind. But there was little chance of that; his shift had only just begun.

  ‘Told you to go home, Chief,’ one of his engineers quipped as she walked by.

  Colmen glanced up, squinting his bloodshot eyes. It was Bara Delaterre, a concerned expression on her young face. Colmen managed a smile, dismissing her comment with a wave of his hand. ‘I’m fine,’ he lied. ‘Just tired.’

  ‘Did you stay long?’ she asked, brushing her dark fringe away from her eyes.

  ‘Till the end,’ he confessed, recalling the blurred image of last night’s wake.

  Bara shook her head. ‘You should know better.’

  ‘I know, I know. But I had to see him off . . .’ Colmen became distant, picturing the face of his old friend.

  ‘Won’t be the same around here without Permond,’ Bara said.

  Colmen nodded, inhaling to shake himself out of his melancholy. ‘Right,’ he said firmly, ‘time to do something.’

  Bara smiled as she turned away and continued along the engine deck, leaving Colmen alone with his thoughts. He’d started working here on the same day as Permond, all those years ago. He remembered not liking him much at first, but his brash personality had worn Colmen down and, eventually, they had become friends. Time brought them closer, aging together, becoming the old men of the deck. Colmen took promotion while Permond was happy to stay where he was. His only ambition was to make enough to see him through, with a bit left over for a drink or three after his shift. They were different people, and Colmen would never have chosen the other man as a friend, but life can be funny like that. And now here he was, hung over and full of remorse for his dead deck-mate. Permond, rarely sympathetic and never sentimental, would laugh to see him like this.

  Colmen finished his coffee as he walked to the control room. He climbed the steps that led to the entrance, pausing to look out over the gantry at the engine deck. Even when he felt as bad as he did today he could count on this view to raise his spirits. He could take in the entire space from here, see the three engine cores that took up the entire length of the deck, each one fed by a multitude of fuel pipes. About a third of the way along their length he watched the intermix impellers turning hypnotically. He could tell the speed of the arkship just by how quickly they rotated. Right now, they were hardly moving, station-keeping while they awaited the return of the prince. In between the engines was the main rod of the cube drive, narrow in comparison to the main engines but infinitely more powerful. He watched his deck crew going about their work, monitoring the engines, regulating the ship’s systems, keeping everything in check. This was the heart of the ship, and he was in charge of it. In spite of his headache he felt a flush of pride at that thought.

  His thoughts turned again to Permond, and Colmen felt the weight of the years on his back. He’d spent all his life on this one arkship. He never had the desire to explore, to visit the other Kenric arkships, or to go further afield and travel to one of the other family’s territories. Colmen was not an adventurer. He’d never yearned to travel through space, to explore the Cluster, to stare into The Infinite with his own eyes. He could see it out of the window, that was close enough for Colmen. And the Ark Royal Obsidian was so vast that he had yet to explore its entirety after more than sixty years here. He had everything he ever wanted, right here, inside this metal world. He had a job, a wife, a family, friends . . . And yet, with the passing of Permond, he wondered if he was missing out, if there was more to life than the simple routine he had enjoyed for decades.

  Colmen shook the thought away and turned towards the control room. As he walked through the doors he could tell something was wrong. His staff were not at their stations. Instead, they crowded round the com desk, watching the screen.

  ‘What is it?’ he shouted, getting their attention.

  The crowd broke apart, allowing him to stride towards the desk. Flint was on duty today, a thin, nervous man who Colmen had yet to warm to.

  ‘Chief,’ Flint said apologetically, ‘emergency in hanger deck two.’ He jabbed a thin finger at the screen in front of him. ‘A ship coming in too fast.’

  ‘This is the engine deck,’ Colmen said impatiently. ‘Leave ships to the hanger deck team.’

  ‘But, Chief,’ Flint replied meekly, ‘it’s the Leof, the prince’s ship.’

  CONTACT

  T-Minus 33 hours

  ‘ARO Command, this is the Leof. Guidance failure, autodock is down, I’m coming in live, request emergency procedures.’

  Bran Colmen heard the pilot’s voice over the speaker as he ran into the hanger deck. He could see the Leof rushing towards the open gate. It was coming in way too fast. About him the hanger crew readied the space for landing, shouting orders over the noise of the com speakers.

  Colmen took a moment to catch his breath. He was out of shape. He shouldn’t have run here. Now his headache was worse. He looked up and saw the Leof slice through the hanger gate and slam into the deck. An explosion erupted from beneath the ship, lifting it into the air. Colmen stepped back against the wall as the ship skidded towards him along the length of the hanger. Sparks rained behind it as smoke billowed from the engines.

  A line of nets popped into place along the hanger deck. The ship tore through the first one like it wasn’t there. It hit the second, dragging the fine mesh over the nose of the ship, but its speed seemed unaffected. As it collided with the third it began to slow, but not enough. It snagged on a fourth, then a fifth, but the end wall of the hanger deck was dangerously close now.

  Colmen watched as the ship disappeared in a cloud of smoke. He felt the roar of impact, and he began to run towards the halted vessel. Almost immediately he was inside the black smoke. It cut at his throat, burning his lungs, stinging his eyes, but he carried on, navigating by memory, until he almost fell on the Leof.

  He climbed onto the wing, found the emergency hatch release and pulled the leaver. The door blew open, pushing the dark smoke away. Colmen climbed inside, and found the cockpit. He saw Prince Thyred and released his harness
. He fell from the chair, barely conscious, into Colmen’s arms. Immediately, he began to pull him from the ship, dragging him over the wing and onto the hanger deck floor. He felt the heat of fire, and saw the engines were ablaze, and a new urgency pushed him on. He lifted the prince and stumbled towards the edge of the hanger deck.

  ‘There’s more in there,’ he shouted at the approaching rescue team. They helped him with the prince as others ran into the burning ship.

  Colmen retreated from the scene, finding safety in the cargo bay at the end of the hanger. He gripped the wall, feeling light-headed, and let himself fall to his knees. Suddenly, the effort caught up with him and he couldn’t catch his breath. He felt like his heart might burst from his chest.

  At the same moment, the Leof’s burning engine exploded.

  NEGOTIATION

  T-Minus 28 hours

  ‘That was a stupid thing to do,’ Bara said to Colmen.

  ‘I didn’t think,’ he replied, wincing as he tried to move. He ached all over.

  ‘At least it’s nothing serious,’ she noted. ‘A few cuts and bruises. Just like a normal day on the engine deck.’

  Colmen managed a small laugh, but his ribs ached from the effort. ‘At least the prince seems okay.’

  ‘Smoke inhalation, that’s all. He wants to give you a medal, so they say,’ Bara teased. ‘I still can’t believe you did it. Can’t you leave that sort of thing to the experts?’

  ‘I worked on the hanger deck, used to be part of the rescue crew, before I was an engineer,’ Colmen explained. He felt uncomfortable in the wheelchair. There was no need, he could walk, but he didn’t have the energy left to protest.

  ‘How many years ago?’

  Colmen laughed. ‘Before you were born. You’re right, I should leave well alone. But when I heard it was the prince’s ship . . .’

  ‘I never knew you were such a patriot,’ Bara replied.

  ‘Neither did I.’ The truth was he had surprised himself. He wasn’t sure what had driven him to run to the hanger deck, to sprint into danger. He had done it all without thought.

  They made their way through the residential levels, towards his home. Everywhere people stopped and stared, pointing, talking quietly. News travelled fast, even on an arkship as big as the Obsidian. Colmen kept his head down. He hated the attention.

  ‘This is you?’ Bara checked as they arrived at his door.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘You want me to come in?’

  Colmen shook his head as he pulled himself out of the chair. ‘No, I’ll take it from here, thanks. Rewan can spoil me.’

  ‘Okay,’ Bara replied. ‘See you in the morning?’

  ‘I’ll be there,’ Colmen said breathlessly. He stood at the door, holding onto the frame, and smiled at Bara as she left. He watched the chair wheel itself away, then he turned to the door, placed his hand on the sensor and stepped into his home.

  ‘Hell of a day,’ he called as he walked towards the living room. The house was quiet. He had expected Rewan to make a fuss of him, for Tealor to ask a million questions, but no one came to greet him. He dropped into his chair, resting for a moment. ‘Home?’

  The system did not respond.

  Colmen tried again. ‘Home, where are Rewan and Tealor?’

  He waited, expecting the com system to burst into life, but there was nothing. He tapped his wrist com instead.

  ‘Don’t do that.’

  Colmen froze. He didn’t recognize the voice.

  ‘Stay very still. I have a weapon trained on you.’

  Colmen lowered his wrist. He couldn’t see anyone else in the room with him.

  ‘Who is it?’ he asked. ‘Where are you?’

  A woman appeared behind his chair. She walked round him and sat on the sofa. She was in her early thirties, he guessed, slim with short dark hair, and in her hand was a discreet gun which she kept trained on Colmen.

  ‘My name is Valine,’ she said with a disconcerting smile. ‘I’m going to put this gun away. I don’t like them, do you?’

  Colmen said nothing, his brain trying to work out the best way out of this situation.

  ‘You are going to stay in your chair,’ Valine continued. ‘You will not attack me, you will not raise the alarm. You will do nothing.’

  ‘What’s stopping me?’

  ‘Your love for your wife and son.’

  Rage erupted inside him. He made to stand but Valine’s gun halted him. Slowly, he returned to the chair.

  ‘That was silly, Bran. Do not move again. Your family are safe. They will remain that way only if you do exactly as I say. Deviate from my instructions and they will die. Attack me and they will die. Call for help and they will die. Do you see a pattern emerging here?’

  Colmen nodded. He couldn’t place her accent. It wasn’t Kenric, he was sure of that.

  ‘Good,’ Valine replied. She lowered the gun, placed it in her jacket pocket and let herself relax into the sofa.

  Colmen gripped the edge of the chair, fixing his eyes on the woman, trying to commit every detail to memory.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ the stranger asked. ‘I’ve heard you were quite the hero today. Your profile doesn’t suggest anything like that.’

  She had access to his records. Colmen began to realize how serious this was. ‘You’ve studied me?’

  Valine smiled knowingly. ‘But you were a soldier, straight after school, weren’t you? Only did basic training, discharged on medical grounds. What was it? Your ear?’

  Colmen said nothing. He wanted to let her talk.

  ‘Then into the emergency team in the hanger deck. You’ve been an engineer for the remaining forty-three years. You know, I’d dismissed those early years but I see now what an influence they must have had on you. I thought you were an engineer through and through, but that was your second choice, wasn’t it? You’re a uniform man at heart, right? Was that your real ambition? To be the soldier? To save lives? To be the hero?’

  Colmen watched and listened. That accent, it was subtle, easy to miss. He thought she might be from the Li-Zhang family, but that didn’t feel right. She hid it well, but the more she spoke the more he heard the tell-tale signature of someone from the House of Draig.

  ‘Funny how many people end up doing their second choice,’ Valine continued, standing to walk to the adjoining kitchen. ‘Want anything? A drink?’

  Colmen remained silent.

  ‘Me, I was going to be a trader,’ Valine shouted from the kitchen. She couldn’t see him now. He stood quietly, looking for something he could use as a weapon.

  ‘Sit down, old man,’ she called. ‘That’s your last warning. Try anything again and we’ll kill the boy first.’

  Colmen obeyed.

  Valine returned from the kitchen with a glass of water and a slice of bread. ‘I was going to run a big successful business, buying and selling minerals or fuel or something. I never really figured that bit out. That’s probably why it never happened.’ She sat down on the sofa, smiling like an old friend. ‘So here I am, doing my second choice, just like you.’

  ‘We . . .’ Colmen said. ‘You said We. Who are you working with?’

  Valine brushed the comment aside, speaking in between bites of bread. ‘You wouldn’t know him. Doesn’t say much, like you. You’d probably get on.’

  She finished the bread and wiped her hands on the sofa. ‘Thing is, it’s hard to start a business when your family are all addicted to gravel and you’ve got nowhere to live, don’t you think?’

  Rhydar. Could she have been raised on the Rhydar arkship? What was it called? He couldn’t remember. Most of the Rhydar family were long-dead, victims of their addiction. The rest had been saved by another family. He cursed his memory. Then it came to him. Draig! But that was decades ago. She would have been just a child, rescued and raised by the House of Draig.

  ‘What do you want from me?’ Colmen asked.

  ‘Nothing much,’ Val
ine said with a grin. ‘Just a little help.’

  ‘Or you’ll kill my family.’

  Valine shrugged apologetically. ‘I’m not a fan of these sort of brute-force scenarios. I prefer tact and stealth, but you do what needs doing, right? We’d like you to give us some information on your engines. Nothing much, just a little help, as I say. When we have what we want your family will be returned to you.’

  Cautiously, Colmen asked, ‘What sort of help?’

  ‘My client is building an engine system for his arkship. It’s nothing like as nice as yours. It’s . . . primitive.’ She grinned, her eyebrows arched. ‘All they want is a little insider knowledge that will get their designs moving in the right direction. You will provide that knowledge.’

  Colmen shook his head. ‘Our engines are decades old. There’s nothing new or original about them. We’ve made some modification over the years, obviously, but there’s nothing here you can’t find in a Narwoulf brochure. Go speak to them.’

  ‘If my client could afford a Narwoulf engine they would not need to employ me,’ Valine noted.

  ‘I can’t help you. Speak to the Lord Chamberlain.’

  Valine’s face hardened. ‘This wasn’t a request, Bran. You will help me, or you and your family will be dead by the end of the day. Am I clear?’

  Colmen floundered, then said, ‘Yes, I understand.’

  ‘Good.’ She produced a data stick. ‘You will take this to the engine deck. You will plug it into your control room system and download the fuel ratio log.’

  Colmen waited. ‘Is that it?’

  ‘That’s it.’

  ‘But . . .’ Colmen stopped himself. The fuel ratio log was low priority information, no one would be concerned about him accessing that. He would not be divulging anything too sensitive. He could go along with this and take the consequences once his family was safe. He’d be demoted, probably, but that would be all. Besides, he was only a few years off retirement. There were worse punishments.