Sanctuary's Gambit: The Darkspace Saga Book 2

by B. C. Kellogg

  Well, her guard’s certainly not down.

  “I’ll explain later,” he assured her. “For now, just trust me.”

  “Trust you,” she said. “Remember what happened the last time I did that?”

  He led her away from the Oro Yurei. “Listen—I’m here with my ship. You can stay if you want. But I wanted to give you and Balt the chance to come with us. This may be the last chance you have to go back where you came from for a long, long time.”

  “Who gave you this mission?” she said, her eyes narrowed.

  “The Corps.”

  “Your fiancée?”

  Conrad sighed. “Not anymore.”

  “You should have told me about her, you know. And you wonder why I find it hard to trust you.”

  “Rose and I, we never were a ... thing. Couple.” Conrad searched for the right words. “The engagement was assigned. It’s a standard thing that the Corps does for everyone.”

  “You still should have told me—before New Crozet.”

  “Jira—”

  “Tell me more about this mission,” she interrupted. “Why are you going back?”

  “To find the Federation,” he said. “If the Empire’s coming, Jira, we’ll need allies. The Federation has been fighting the Satori for generations. We have no conception of what we’re dealing with, but we’ll need help. That much is clear.”

  She leaned against a post amidst the milling crowd. They stood among thousands of sentient beings that moved on with their simple lives, blissfully unaware. Conrad dared to approach Jira, to stand within inches of her.

  “It’s stupidity, it’s what this is,” she said, the Caderan accent fading. Her guard was back up.

  “If you were in our position, you’d do the same.”

  She glanced around her. “I’m a free agent now,” she said. “For the first time in my life, I’ve got no one to look out for but myself—and Balt. No superiors to answer to, no parents, no generals, no lords, or princes. I’m as safe as I’ve ever been. As far as the Empire’s concerned, I’m dead or disappeared. Why should I give any of that up?”

  “Because you believe in the Federation’s cause,” he insisted.

  “Not anymore,” she said. “The Federation is trillions upon trillions of miles away. No one knows me here. I have my anonymity—and my liberty.”

  Conrad frowned. This wasn’t the Jira he knew, who risked years of her life to infiltrate the Imperial palace itself. Something had changed—and he felt a guilty pang when he considered that he might very well be the cause.

  “I came here for you,” he said. “But it’s your choice in the end.”

  “If I were wise, I’d take my furs, sell them, and fade off into an end-point system and never worry about the Empire again. Forget about everything. Live out the rest of my life without worrying about the grand causes anymore. I did that my whole life up ‘till now—and look where it got me.”

  “You won’t do that,” he said, very sure. “Despite everything you say, you like trouble.”

  “In that, I suppose we’re very much alike,” she said, with a tone that indicated that she didn’t find this to be a very good thing.

  “You can’t change who you are, right?” he said with a slight shrug.

  She studied him. “Unfortunately,” she said.

  “How has it been, working for Hogarth?” Conrad asked. Argus and Baltasar followed behind them, still talking about the Oro Yurei’s new technical specifications.

  “You mean with Hogarth. The Oro’s mine, and I contract with him for my runs. He’s as trustworthy as any broker can be,” she said. “Pays in full, on time.”

  “In cred or in information?”

  She glanced at him. “Some of each,” she said.

  “How much have you told him?”

  “Enough,” she said. “Enough for him to look into things.”

  “You told him about me?”

  Jira refused to look at him. “What’s there to hide?”

  “I just gave him a sample of my blood. He knows about the bloodprint—and only you could have told him.”

  “Yes,” she said. “He’ll find you some answers, Conrad. I don’t feel bad about telling him anything. It was the price of my first contract with him, and it’s no less than what you told your superiors.”

  Conrad fought to keep his frustration under control. “Some discretion would be useful.”

  “That’s a laugh, considering that you are the least discreet person I’ve ever met.” She paused, her hands running over a brick wall, searching for a hidden trigger. “We’re here,” she said, grabbing his hand. “Come with me.”

  With that, she pulled him through the wall, which shuddered once before spitting them into Hogarth’s den once more.

  “My dear,” said Hogarth, greeting Jira with an affectionate wave. “Welcome back. Your exchange at Ippoino went without incident, I take it.”

  Jira gave him a nod. “Good,” Hogarth said. “I’d hate to see you come across any trouble.” He glanced at Conrad. “And I see you are reunited with this gentleman.”

  Argus guffawed at the word gentleman and Conrad suppressed the urge to elbow him in the ribcage.

  “I am,” said Jira, her tone neutral. “Did you find an answer?” she said, going straight to the point. “He said you took a sample of his blood.”

  A smile split Hogarth’s lips. “I did,” he said. “But perhaps there is something missing. I have an answer, but I’m thinking there’s something wrong with it. The timing is ... how can I put this ... impossible.”

  “What did you find?” Conrad felt his heart hammering inside his chest.

  “Tadao Southwark,” Hogarth pronounced. His eyes searched their faces, testing for their response.

  “What does that mean?” Conrad demanded.

  “It’s a name,” said Hogarth. “The name of your father.”

  Conrad spent the rest of the day sequestered in the room that Hogarth provided, on continuous comms with the Steadfast. Grayson ran a direct line for him through to the ship’s databases, dipping into the standard historical records kept by all Protectorate ships.

  It was sometime in the middle of the night—or the day shift on the Steadfast—when the comp display he was working with malfunctioned.

  Hogarth, Conrad thought to himself. “I know it’s you,” he said aloud. “Some hack job you’re doing.” He grimaced as he looked at the comp display. It was clearly on the fritz, static replacing the tedious ship manifests that he had been mining for the last seven hours.

  Conrad dropped the overheated display on the floor with a satisfying crack and lay back on his cot. His head and eyes ached from the hours of continuous work. He closed his eyes, feeling the steady throb of blood rushing through his cranium.

  The puzzle pieces were beginning to coalesce. The Satori left the Consortium docks in 2402, so new and fresh that its paint was still drying when it was boarded by thousands of hopeful passengers. As Garrity had told him, a sizable contingent originated from Japan. There were a good number of North Americans and a smattering of a few unaligned individuals. Nearly the entire crew had been recruited from England.

  Albion, Conrad remembered. Albion Prime was the glittering capital planet of the Empire. It was also, as he discovered, another name for England.

  And yet, according to the records, there was nothing remarkable about the Satori. Thousands upon thousands of colony ships had departed Sanctuary and its colonies during the early twenty-fifth century, traveling into the unknown before they mysteriously vanished through the outer portals. Families, villages, whole nations had launched themselves into portals in the end-point systems that swallowed them up, never to return.

  Still: something unique and mysterious happened to the Satori. Somehow the ship had spawned an interstellar Empire on the other side of the galaxy.

  And onboard the Satori had been a seven-year-old boy named Tadao Southwark.

  Conrad’s own father.

  Chapter 9
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br />   Conrad sat in the cockpit of the Oro Yurei, his eyes fixed on the holographic projection of the ship in front of him. He slid his hands forward, cradling the ship. He cupped the Oro’s bow in his left and rested its stern in his right palm. Exhaling, he lifted his hands, easing the ship up into Centaura’s skies.

  With the delicate movement of his hands and wrists he flew the ship through his manipulation of the hologram. It was a fine dance of gestures and speed, demanding incredible dexterity on the part of the pilot.

  It occurred to him that the piloting hologram was only one example of the superiority of Satori engineering. The Oro Yurei itself was marvel, a sleek silver ship that seemed to be forged from a single sheet of metal.

  Baltasar hovered nervously over his shoulder. “Be gentle,” he pleaded. “It’s been ages since you’ve flown her. Do you really remember how? Pay attention—you’re letting the forward thruster fire unevenly, that’s going to blow if you—”

  “Relax, Balt,” he said. “It’s like riding a bike.”

  “What’s a bike?” Baltasar asked, turning to Argus. The Kazhad chortled from behind them. Baltasar leveled a stern finger at him. “Don’t laugh at me! Look, I’ve had to scour every end-point system in the quadrant for the parts to get this ship put back together after what she’s been through. I had to make half of ‘em myself, from scrap. You think it was easy?”

  Jira patted Baltasar’s shoulder as she slid into the copilot’s seat. “Give it up, old man,” she said.

  “I’m not old!” the medic-mechanic insisted, his voice growing shriller. “I’m barely older than you are!”

  “He hasn’t changed at all,” Conrad whispered to Jira, who stifled an uncontrollable smile.

  Argus rumbled low in his chest and guided the anxious medic-mechanic away from the cockpit, leaving the two of them alone.

  The ship tipped upwards into the dusk of the upper stratosphere.

  “Where’s this ship of yours?” she said. “I still can’t believe that some admiral somewhere decided to hand a ship over to you.”

  “Hey, now,” he said. “You’re letting me fly this ship.”

  “I’m sure you’ll do fine, or else Balt will choke you in your sleep if you get even a single dent on her.” She shifted in her seat and peered up. “Is that it?”

  The Steadfast hung in the darkness above them.

  “Don’t you dare make fun of my ship,” he warned her. “That’s the Steadfast. She’s old, but she’s mine. Not a word comparing her to your fancy Caderan cruisers, you understand?”

  Jira paused for a moment, thinking. “Looks like a decent ship,” she said, finally.

  The Oro Yurei settled into one of the aft bays, and Conrad introduced his two new guests to the crew as local guides. That, he decided, was all they really needed to know about Jira and Baltasar.

  The medic-mechanic made a second home for himself in the engine room while Jira stayed onboard the Oro for the duration, coming into the Steadfast only to eat.

  Conrad stayed on the bridge whenever he was awake, as if he was standing vigil. They were five days away from the final portal when the strain of it began to manifest.

  He was sitting in his chair, gazing at the blank tactical display. There was nothing but stars. Hundreds and thousands and millions of stars—and emptiness. There was no need for him to be there, but the silence of their passage was comforting, as if it promised some peaceful end.

  That, Conrad knew, was impossible. Peace would come after a fight—if it ever came at all.

  “Captain,” a voice rumbled over his shoulder. Conrad closed his eyes for a moment. He hadn’t realized that he’d been staring without blinking into the display. “You’ve been here for two shifts,” Argus said. “Lieutenant Grayson’s come to relieve you.”

  Conrad rubbed a hand over his face as he stood up. “You’re right, Argus. C’mon—let’s go check on engineering.”

  Argus followed him off the bridge. “You’re exhausted,” he said. “You need rest. I will visit the engine room if it’s necessary. Go to your quarters.”

  “Are you the captain of this thing, or am I?” Conrad grumbled.

  “The captain’s judgment is compromised,” Argus said.

  Conrad’s eyes watered as he suppressed a yawn. He was reluctant to admit it, but the Kazhad was right. He was exhausted.

  “You and Jira,” Argus said slyly. “You’re keeping away from each other. Why?”

  “You know why,” Conrad said, struggling to keep his frustration from showing. “It’s what happened on New Crozet.”

  “You didn’t tell her about Rose,” the Kazhad deduced. He punched Conrad on the shoulder. “How could you be so stupid?”

  “Hey—I am, in fact, the captain, and the boss of you.” He rubbed his shoulder. “As for Jira ... well. Things moved fast on New Crozet. You know how it is. There wasn’t time to give her my life story.”

  “I will eat my own lasgun if you ever manage to find a mate,” Argus muttered.

  “I’ll hold you to that,” Conrad said as they neared the lift. “That’s a lot of lasguns, if it’s one lasgun per woman. I’ve had plenty of—”

  “A mate for life,” Argus specified.

  “Conrad,” Argus called out as he stepped inside.

  “Yeah?”

  “You should go see her.”

  “Jira?” He walked slowly up the gangplank of the Oro Yurei. The ship almost felt deserted. He entered into its main hold, which was lit by the dimmest of lights.

  It was then that Conrad sensed her presence in the room. He felt it before he heard her or saw her. He stood in the center of the hold, not moving a muscle.

  She was a Federation operative, after all.

  His eyes opened. “Out for revenge?” he said dryly. “You sure took your time.”

  She stopped in her tracks. There was a hesitation in her movements, as if she didn’t know how to respond to that.

  “Why are you here?” she demanded. Jira came into view, dressed in a simple white garment, her tawny curls tumbling over her bare shoulders.

  “I was on my way back to my quarters,” he said. “Thought I’d ... stop by.”

  She rubbed her eyes. “So you decided to keep me up?” she said. “It’s night by Centauran reckoning.”

  “I’ll leave if you want—”

  “No,” she said. “What did you find? About your father, I mean.”

  Conrad looked at her. “There’s not much to say,” he said, absently. “There was only the DNA match and a name. I’ve sent the name back to Garrity for a more thorough search in Sanctuary’s census databases but ... it’s still impossible. How could my father have been on that ship?”

  “It explains some things,” she said after a silence. “If the Satori empire was founded by the people on that colony ship, then you share that same heritage. That’s why your bloodprint works as if you were the most inbred prince in the palace.”

  “It’s impossible,” Conrad repeated. “The portals were closed decades ago. I wasn’t even alive when the Satori was lost, and he was a child. Too young to have children of his own.” He paused, his head aching and muddled. “Besides, I remember my father. Not much, but I remember him. We lived on an old freighter. We were headed to Sanctuary when he left ... I never knew any Nu or Satori or anything but that rusty bucket of a ship. Then he disappeared. And then the PSS Redeker found me.”

  He looked at Jira. “It’s impossible,” he said again. He’d lost count of how many times the word had crossed his mind in the past week.

  She was quiet. It was unlike her. He turned his head towards her, making out her form in the soft shadows cast by the Oro’s overhead lights.

  “Why are you really here?” he asked, fighting down the impulse to reach for her.

  “Here? This is my ship.”

  “No. I mean, on this mission. Instead of selling your furs and smuggling contraband for Hogarth the rest of your life.”

  Her arms were folded. “The Federation coul
d always use more allies,” she said. “And you won’t be able to find them without me.”

  “You’re sure about that.”

  “I am,” she said. “I spent my entire childhood in the Federation.”

  “Jira,” he said, stepping close to her, so close that he could feel the warmth radiating from her body. “You don’t have to do this. It’s five days before we reach the portal ... and you can still take the Oro and head straight back to Centaura.”

  She tilted her head back. “It’s what I was going to do when you brought me here,” she said. “Forget everything that came before. Start a new life.”

  He dared to bring himself closer to her. “You still can,” he said. “It’s not too late.”

  “No,” she said. “Not if we go through that portal, and back into the Empire. We don’t know what’s changed—but I can promise you that our chances of coming back alive are almost zero.”

  He reached out to touch her hand, impulsively. She let their fingers touch, but that was all.

  “War and love don’t go together,” she said. “And if we go back through that portal, it will be war.”

  He could feel her warm breath now. It took all his strength to hold himself still. “Jira ...”

  She moved away. “War and love,” she said. “Remember that.”

  Chapter 10

  They passed through the territories of Xin Caledonia without incident. The Vehn, if they were there, left the Steadfast alone. Conrad wondered if they had much of a communication system, if they had a culture or history. Like most humans he’d assumed that their intelligence barely rated, but the encounter at Colony Gambier changed everything. The Vehn there had adopted alien weapons, and learned how to strategize and use them.

  He brushed the thoughts away. He’d given his report to Garrity. If the High Council wouldn’t do anything about the Vehn, he knew that the Corps would quietly take action until a more aggressive strategy was approved by the Council.