Arkship Prophecy Read online

  THE ARKSHIP SAGA

  Arkship Countdown – The Arkship Saga Prologue

  Arkship Obsidian

  Arkship Vengeance

  Arkship Alliance

  Arkship Conquest

  Arkship Prophecy

  Arkship Omega – coming soon!

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  Arkship Countdown – the Arkship Saga Prologue

  ARKSHIP PROPHECY

  By

  Niel Bushnell

  The Arkship Saga Book Five

  First published in 2019 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 © NM Bushnell Limited, 2019.

  For Edmund Bagwell

  Contents

  THE STORY SO FAR

  TETHERED

  PARASITE

  LUMINARY

  PROCRASTINATION

  BELIEF

  OUTSIDER

  PURITY

  HIDING

  OPTIONS

  ALONE

  LESSONS

  RESOLUTIONS

  THE CHAIR

  TRADE

  VORTEX

  WEAK POINT

  GIFTS

  TRAILS

  THE OATH

  ALPHA

  WAITING

  RUMORS

  MYTHS

  EPICENTER

  APPROACH

  FEED

  THE VISITOR

  THE SHADOW

  FLIGHT

  FAMILY

  PRISONERS

  CONSPIRATORS

  TRUTH

  LIES

  INTO THE UNKNOWN

  DESTINATION

  CONVERGENCE

  UPGRADE

  ULTIMATUM

  NETWORK

  LOYALTIES

  DEVIATION

  ALLEGIANCE

  SHAPES

  GAMBLE

  BLUFF

  PUNISHMENT

  MOTIVES

  HOPE

  STATE OF FEAR

  SURVIVORS

  TARGETS

  SILENCE

  BATTLEFRONT

  ALLIES

  LAST STAND

  INTERFERENCE

  AFTERMATH

  CRIMSON

  PORTENTS

  AUTHOR’S NOTES

  A FINAL WORD

  THE STORY SO FAR

  Two hundred years ago, Earth was destroyed, along with the rest of the solar system, in a cataclysmic event known as the Fracture. Now, the last survivors of humanity live on vast arkships moving through the Cluster – the shattered remains of the old solar system – fighting for survival in a hostile, ever-changing environment.

  Eight years have passed since Prince Halstead and the House of Kenric were exiled from the Harvest Union. In that time, Halstead has worked to keep the uneasy truce between the House of Kenric and the House of Draig in place. He has avoided conflict, doing everything he can to earn the trust of the Church of the Infinite and regain the respect his family once enjoyed.

  But the Church of the Infinite continues to grow in strength, clamping down on anyone who does not fall in line with their way of thinking, dividing the Cluster into believers and heretics, and Halstead fears that the specter of conflict might soon return to haunt him.

  Bara Delaterre lives with Faron Dulac, raising her son Galen on the arkship Benwick. She and Prince Halstead have divorced, but he visits infrequently to see his son.

  Gofal survives in hiding on the Traum. He has devoted his time to studying the ancient pre-Fracture texts, hoping to decipher the message he has found in a long-forgotten logbook from over two hundred years ago. His reputation has spread across the Cluster and a small group of devoted followers live and work with Gofal on the Traum. They call him the Prophet, and the Church fears what he knows. They are desperate to find him and put an end to his group.

  Now, the story continues . . .

  TETHERED

  ‘What’s happening?’ Prince Halstead asked, feeling the last embers of sleep leave him behind as he ran onto the flight deck of the Ark Royal Caerleon. Commander Watson was in her chair, a grimace aging her slim face.

  ‘Major eruption from the Infinite,’ Watson shouted over the warning alarms. ‘Incoming coronal mass ejection has disturbed the Messengers.’

  The Messengers; the sparse plane of rock and dust left over from the destruction of the planet Mercury. It was a place of shifting tidal forces, islands of calm in amongst roiling storms of ancient rubble. Halstead buttoned his tunic in place and ran his fingers through his dark hair, assessing the multitude of data on the holograph display. A stormfront of red dots approached their position. Watching the three-dimensional representation, it was easy to underestimate the danger but he knew that each flashing point of light was a churning boulder of rock, some hundreds of meters across.

  ‘How long to impact?’ Halstead asked, feeling the familiar tremble of fear eating away at him.

  ‘It’s already begun. Early warning system failed,’ Watson explained. ‘We’ve recalled our people from Solcor, emergency evac protocols are activated. Gilgore Grid is charging, Cube drive is coming online.’

  Halstead stared out of the window, his eyes following the docking cords that connected them to the impressive structure of Solcor. ‘What about the station?’

  ‘Evacuation has begun.’

  ‘How many are on board?’

  Watson checked her console. ‘Over three thousand.’

  ‘Offer refuge. We’ll take all we can.’

  Commander Watson straightened in her chair. It was a familiar movement to Halstead, a sign that the commander was about to disagree with him.

  ‘Recommend we get clear while we can,’ she said, her voice still calm and respectful.

  Halstead trusted her implicitly, she was a seasoned officer who never let personal danger get in the way of her duty. Her concern was for the safety of the Caerleon and her people, not for herself.

  ‘Send the message, Commander.’ Halstead said, knowing she wouldn’t question him further.

  Watson nodded, briskly carrying out her orders.

  ‘We’ll stay as long as possible,’ Halstead said firmly, as if he was trying to convince himself.

  Outside, along the massive structure of the Solcor station, Halstead saw tiny flashes of light as micrometeorites began to strike. Plumes of gas spewed out of the miniscule impacts, softening the profile of the complex station. Around the docking ring, ships began to uncouple and escape the approaching shockwave. He recognized vessels belonging to a dozen different families and organizations, all here to refuel and trade. It was a refuge from the cold isolation of the Cluster, from the oppressive attention of the Church of the Infinite, a place of diplomacy and accord, a place even the ostracized House of Kenric was welcome. Solcor had endured here for over a hundred years . . . Today would be see its end.

  ‘This shouldn’t be happening,’ Watson said, checking her console. ‘Early warning should have picked this up.’

  Before Halstead could respond, an explosion shook the arkship, and the protective shutters closed over the windows. Halstead turned to the holograph and saw the floating image of Solcor, its upper spires ripping free from the main body of the station.

  ‘We’ve already sustained multiple hull breeches,’ Watson said. ‘We have a few minutes before the main part of the shockwave hits.’

  ‘Contact Solcor command,
find out if the station is clear of people,’ Halstead said. Every instinct was telling him to run.

  ‘No response,’ Watson replied after a moment.

  On the holograph another part of the station disintegrated, and the flight deck of the Caerleon shook as debris rained onto the docked arkship. The lights flickered as the vast structure of the vessel vibrated under the torrent. The holograph display flashed a list of warnings; hull breaches on upper decks, damage to vital systems, casualty reports from the damaged sections.

  ‘Get us out of here,’ Halstead conceded, strapping himself into his chair.

  ‘Clear all moorings!’ Watson bellowed, springing into action. ‘Decouple the supply lines. Secure all decks and prepare for Cube transit.’

  The arkship began to groan, as if it was being twisted between a giant’s hands.

  ‘Main docking umbilical is locked,’ Watson explained. ‘We can’t get clear.’

  Another eruption robbed the Solcor station of its lower decks, and the Ark Royal Caerleon jolted, the flight deck floor tilting aggressively in response.

  ‘Emergency evac detonation is authorized,’ Watson said over the noise.

  Halstead felt the chilling rumble of an explosion. He gripped the edge of the console as he watched the holograph, waiting to see if the ship had torn itself free.

  ‘Explosive bolts had no effect,’ one of the flight deck crew shouted to the commander. ‘Cutting crew suited up and going in.’

  ‘Can we pull ourselves free?’ Halstead suggested.

  ‘Engines are at full output already,’ Watson said. ‘All we’re doing is dragging the station with us. We need to cut that connection.’

  ‘Main impact in sixty-seven seconds,’ another officer called out.

  ‘There’s not enough time,’ Watson said grimly.

  ‘Can we Cube transit?’ Halstead asked.

  ‘Four minutes to Cube drive readiness,’ an officer shouted, killing the prince’s thoughts of escape. Halstead’s mind raced, trying to come up with a solution, but nothing came to him.

  ‘Sound the evacuation order,’ he said at last. ‘Abandon ship, while we still can.’

  Before Watson could respond, the com system rumbled into life.

  ‘Ark Royal Caerleon, this is the Lectoure. What is your situation?’

  Lectoure. The name resonated with Halstead, but he couldn’t place it.

  ‘This is Commander Watson on the Caerleon. We are tethered, Lectoure. We’re unable to get clear.’

  ‘Caerleon, we’re still docked with Solcor. I’ll see if I can assist from this end.’

  The voice was so familiar, deep and rounded, but still the identity eluded Halstead. He checked the holograph, enlarging the docked ship. It was a sleek cruiser, its surface painted with the livery of its owner’s house: Dulac. A cold shiver of realization snaked down his spine: this was Faron Dulac’s personal cruiser.

  Halstead opened up the com. ‘Faron, is that you? Get of there?’

  ‘I’m on Solcor now, Halstead,’ he replied. ‘I’m trying to persuade the docking computer to release you.’

  They had been friends once, comrades in the Harvest Union, but that was eight years ago, and Halstead had only spoken to Faron Dulac on a handful of occasions since then. They would talk when Halstead was visiting his son, Galen, on the Dulac arkship where he lived with his mother, Bara. His conversations with Faron were always courteous but strained, their friendship soured by politics.

  ‘There’s no time!’ Halstead insisted.

  ‘Got it!’ Faron shouted, his com signal full of distortion. ‘You’re free!’

  The Caerleon shifted position, slanting away from the station. On the holograph, Halstead saw the snaking docking umbilical swing clear of the station.

  ‘Maximum power!’ Watson ordered.

  ‘Faron?’ Halstead cried into the com.

  A chain of asteroids smashed into the Solcor station, ripping through its hull, igniting fuel lines, puncturing oxygen tanks.

  ‘Faron!’

  The com surged with noise, then a breathless voice shouted, ‘I’m going–’

  The remnants of Solcor station disappeared in a series of explosions, each larger than the last. As flames licked its hull, the Lectoure – still docked with the disintegrating station – cracked into three pieces, then submitted to the fire. The noise of a hail of debris striking the Caerleon’s hull rattled through the flight deck. Tremors surged through the floor, building to a violent crescendo as the shockwave coursed over its great length.

  ‘Cube transit engaged!’ someone shouted. Halstead was barely listening. He gripped the arms of the chair, feeling the surge of power, the familiar spatial distortion that always made him feel dizzy, but all he could think about was Faron Dulac. Bara’s lover. Galen’s substitute father. Halstead’s friend.

  The shaking subsided, and an empty silence filled his ears. They had escaped. They had survived. They had rescued over eight hundred of the occupants of Solcor station, all thanks to the selfless actions of one man.

  FIVE YEARS LATER . . .

  PARASITE

  The console exploded, showering the floor with searing fragments of hot metal. At the same moment the entire arkship listed, throwing people from their seats.

  ‘Turn us about!’ Bara ordered, clutching at her command chair. The arkship Benwick groaned, taking an age to respond to her orders, making Bara wish she was on board Lexica instead. But her nimble old ship was long gone, just a memory from another time.

  One of the flight deck crew called out to her. ‘They’re matching our course, closing for another attack.’

  They didn’t have long. ‘What would you do, Faron?’ Bara muttered under her breath as she checked the master holograph display. The Benwick was badly damaged, her fleet of fighters scattered out of formation as they tried to defend their mothership. She glanced up at the narrow line of windows as they disappeared behind the closing blast shield and saw the blessed arkship Spero bearing down on them. The first time Bara had seen a Church arkship she had been stunned by their beauty. They were like no other arkship, graceful and sleek, like great creatures gliding through space, their hulls shimmering in the light of the Infinite. Now, all she saw was an image of dread, a parasite crawling through the Cluster, picking off anyone who didn’t believe in their damned gospel.

  Bara adjusted the map view on her console, looking for anything that might help her. They were in the Red Desert, a swirling dust cloud of rocks and boulders that had once been the planet Mars. With a sad smile she saw an opportunity. The screen adjusted, and a larger object came into view. She’d been here before, years ago, on board Lexica with her husband, Wynn. The trip – like their marriage – had been brief, cut short by his role as Prince Halstead to the House of Kenric. Duty and responsibility had eroded their life together, pulling them in different directions until all that remained were memories.

  ‘Turn us towards the Hellas Planitia Splinter,’ Bara ordered. It was a three-thousand-kilometer expanse of rock, the largest known surviving piece of a planetary body left in all the Cluster.

  Bara felt the shift in the engines as they vibrated through the hull. She could tell they were being pushed beyond their design specification. She was still an engineer at heart, she had helped design and upgrade those engines and she knew they could cope with a little extra exertion.

  The holograph display flickered into life, projecting the surface of Hellas above Bara’s head. The image grew, increasing in detail as the arkship accelerated towards the ancient surface.

  ‘Debris cloud density increasing,’ announced one of the flight deck officers.

  Bara looked from the holograph to find Captain Beric standing over his console. His joweled face was perplexed, staring at the sea of data. Bara smiled to herself; he was trying to decipher her plan without having to resort to asking.

  ‘Take us in low over the surface,’ Bara said, keen to help him out. ‘And bring the Cube drive online.’

  C
aptain Beric glanced in her direction, realization dawning. He left his console and came to Bara’s side, steadying himself as a volley of enemy fire rocked the flight deck.

  ‘Lady Dulac,’ he began in a whisper. The formal title frustrated Bara and she refused to acknowledge it. Captain Beric hesitated, as if he didn’t dare use her name. Finally, he said, ‘Bara, do you plan to execute a Cube transit close to the surface?’

  Bara tensed. ‘It looks like that, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Must I remind you of the dangers of doing–’

  ‘No,’ she interrupted. ‘You don’t need to remind me. And I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that we’re surrounded by three Church arkships. We’re outnumbered, outgunned and trapped. We’re desperate, right? That’s how they want us: scared, desperate, out of options.’

  ‘I agree but using it so close to Hellas is suicide!’

  ‘There’s a slim chance of escape.’

  ‘Not without sustaining major damage to our arkship. And if the rumors are true that Church arkships have Casimir Field generators on board then we won’t be able to create a stable cube transit bubble anyway!’

  ‘Yes, I know . . .’

  ‘I would respectfully ask you to reconsider,’ Captain Beric said, his voice betraying his fear.

  Bara focused on him, moving closer. ‘The Church will anticipate us using our Cube drive, won’t they?’

  ‘Well . . . yes.’

  ‘So that’s what we’ll give them,’ Bara said with a mischievous grin. She suddenly felt like that young engineer on board Lexica, conjuring up ridiculous solutions to impossible problems. ‘We’ll run, we’ll use our Cube drive to escape, then we’ll know if they have Casimir generators or not, won’t we?’

  ‘I don’t see how that will help us.’

  Bara put her hand on Captain Beric’s. ‘Trust me, Gabriel, I can do this.’

  Beric closed his eyes, the corners of his mouth pinched in a defeated smile. ‘I have always trusted you.’

  ‘Good. Prepare a yield of X-13 missiles.’

  ‘Their target?’