Sanctuary's Gambit: The Darkspace Saga Book 2

by B. C. Kellogg

  “All of you are just going to get blown away—”

  “You’re underestimating us,” said an anonymous voice. “Give us some credit, now. We can do more than just fly in a straight line.”

  “I’m good enough with a tractor beam,” came the reply. “Been doing some ... extracurricular excursions myself, Blackbird, tractoring certain black-market minerals around. I think I can get you close enough to the Vehn ships, if the others can weaken an airlock or two, I’ll let you go at the last minute, and you’ll blast ‘em into bits. Well?”

  Conrad took a breath. “Will do, Wastrel,” he said. “But I don’t like it.”

  “That makes about a hundred of us.”

  The ten Cirish ships flew ahead of the injured Oro, targeting one of the Vehn ships. The rest of the small fleet floated towards the last Vehn ship, not yet daring to engage.

  “Here we go,” the Wastrel said, as the Ster Ammyn took the lead, arcing towards the Vehn ship with a flight pattern so erratic that the fire from the Vehn ship discharged into empty space.

  Caught in the Wastrel’s tractor beam, the Oro waited.

  Conrad glanced at the data stream from the Lusus, searching for any advantage that they could use.

  But the data stream was empty.

  Alarmed, he turned to the visual feed—

  The Lusus was in sight.

  He turned to the comm line. “Does anyone else see it?” he asked. “The Imperial ship is here! About time!”

  He reflected briefly that it was the first time in his life that he was glad to see one of those accursed ships.

  The Vehn ships noticed, too. Both Vehn ships began to turn away from the cloud of small Cirish ships. They were preparing to engage the Lusus—an infinitely greater threat.

  For a brief moment, they had the advantage. And Conrad was not about to lose it.

  “Now’s our chance,” he said. “All ships with me—go.”

  A flash of deadly light shot out in an arc above the Vehn ship. These blasts were bright blue and sharply focused.

  They didn’t come from the Vehn; such fire could only have come from an Imperial ship.

  “The Lusus doesn’t see us!” He shouted into the comm line. “Pull back!”

  “No, this is the best shot we’ve got,” said the Ster Ammyn. “We're going in!”

  Conrad cursed inwardly. He knew he wasn't in charge here. The Cirish ships made their own choices.

  They were chasing the Vehn ship now. As the Wastrel followed the path of the Ster Ammyn, dodging both friendly and enemy fire, Conrad recalibrated the Oro’s guns to their highest energy setting for a full-scale assault.

  He reclaimed the piloting hologram and waited, his mood tense. The Cirish ships were forcing his hand.

  He watched for the dagger-like shape of the Imperial ship as they pursued the Vehn. For the moment, they were as likely to die at Imperial hands as the Vehn’s.

  The Ster Ammyn dove suddenly, its nose aimed at an airlock on the stern of the Vehn ship. Three other Cirish ships hastened to follow—

  Brilliant blue light raked across the hulls of the Vehn ship, catching the Ster Ammyn and two of its companions in mid-flight. The three injured ships spun towards the Vehn ship in a death spiral.

  Conrad had no time to mourn or even flinch. Two of the ships impacted the airlock, the third dissolving into nothingness a kilometer from the Vehn ship.

  “Drop me,” he said to the Wastrel. “Now!”

  The Oro shuddered as the tractor beam disappeared. Conrad drove the ship forward at maximum speed, the ship hitching slightly as he regained control.

  “Don’t fail me now, Oro,” he muttered. The ship shook as he passed through a cloud of debris—the remains of the Cirish ship. With no deflectors and no shields, the debris pelted the hulls of the Oro.

  The airlock glowed red-orange as he corkscrewed towards the Vehn ship. It was ripe.

  Running on pure adrenaline, Conrad pushed the Oro to its limits. He heard the telltale sound of the ship’s weapons system engaging.

  Close now.

  “Prepare to pull up and out!” he dimly heard the Wastrel’s captain shouting through the comms. “Blackbird, fire and pull up in three. Two. One!”

  Every gun fired. The energy burned into the airlock, the metal weakening as the unrelenting fire ate into its structure.

  He yanked the Oro away from the inferno at the airlock, mouthing a silent prayer that it had been enough to cripple the ship. He twisted the Oro away from the Vehn ship and surveyed the damage.

  The airlock was blown open but there was no sign of any internal explosions within the ship.

  Failure.

  He gritted his teeth as he brought the Oro around again.

  Did he dare to go in for another run? Conrad checked his guns. There was only a faint charge left.

  It’s all I’ve got. God, I hope it’s enough.

  The Oro protested, its frame buckling under the pressure despite its sophisticated design.

  “Hold tight,” he whispered, as sweat rolled down his temples. “One more go ...”

  “Blackbird,” he heard someone say over the comms. “Pull away. There’s—”

  A shock of blue light flashed into the cockpit and the Oro reeled, spinning away from the Vehn ship.

  The piloting hologram flared red and disappeared. Conrad had to rely on more basic controls now. He slammed his hand down on the console and struggled to maintain control of the damaged ship.

  The spinning slowed, but through the cockpit window he could see the body of the Vehn ship—still intact.

  Then what was—

  Another brilliant burst of blue fire splattered across the Vehn ship. The Lusus loomed before it, its imposing bulk sliding up against the Vehn ship as its guns fired—then focused—on the gaping hole of the blown airlock.

  Conrad gripped his console as the Oro finally came under his control. The last thing he saw was the Lusus firing—and the appearance of deep yellow-white fissures from inside the Vehn ship.

  The Vehn ship seemed to fall silent and still for a single second before it exploded, sending a shockwave through the surrounding space.

  Caught in its wake, the Oro was hurled away into the darkness.

  Conrad could feel the cold creeping in as life support failed, his breath a fading ghost. He strained to stay awake and failed, thinking dimly of Jira and how angry she would be about the Oro when unconsciousness took him at last.

  Chapter 14

  The light above him was bright but not blinding; Conrad’s eyes focused on the glowing white globe as he came to.

  He sat up. A wave of dizziness almost overcame him as he gripped the bed beneath him.

  “Easy,” he heard a woman’s voice say. “You’ve been out for a while, and almost frozen to death when we found you.”

  His vision was blurry as he looked away from the light to the face of the woman standing next to his bed. She had dark hair and skin, her large eyes studying him.

  “I’m a pilot,” he slurred. “Who in all the hells are you?”

  “I’m a doctor,” was the calm, short reply. “My name is Asifa. And you’re not in any hell—you’re onboard the Lusus.”

  Conrad bit back a retort about the Imperial ship being hell. No need to antagonize his captors unnecessarily.

  “My ship,” he said, suddenly alarmed.

  She smiled. “Where do you think we got you from?” she said. “It’s down in one of the bays. I’ve got to warn you, though—it was in pretty bad shape when we pulled you out.”

  She stepped back. “Now—can you stand up?”

  Conrad hesitantly slipped his feet down onto the floor. He swayed slightly but pulled himself upright. “Looks like I can.”

  “Good,” she said. “The captain wants to see you. What’s your name?”

  Conrad forced his hazy thoughts into line. “Balt,” he said. “Balt Garrity.”

  “Unusual name. Doesn't sound Cirish,” she said.

  “I’
m a pilot,” he said. “I fly rich morons around the Seo system for a living. I’m not from here.”

  She looked skeptical. “Fine. You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” she said, directing him towards the door. Guards waited there. “Those are your new best friends. They’ll take you to Captain Tarillion.”

  The captain of the Lusus stood next to the viewport in his office, his posture relaxed. He turned when Conrad appeared, and waved the guards away.

  He gestured to the viewport. “Look at that,” he said. “Four Imperial destroyers. Of course. Right on cue. They like to arrive exactly when they’re no longer needed. A classic, time-tested strategy for victory out in these parts,” he said wryly.

  “The Vehn ships are gone?” Conrad asked.

  “Of course they are,” the captain said. “It’s them or us, always. And this time—it’s us.” He gave a casual salute.

  “I watched what you did, pilot ... Garrity,” he said. “Out there.” He indicated the dark space beyond. “Our sensors are more powerful than what’s available to civilians. I saw what you did from beginning to end. There’s no doubt in my mind that you took more chances than you needed to, but I’ll admit ... I was impressed.”

  Conrad swayed, unsure of what to say. “Thank you ... sir?”

  “Don’t thank me.” Captain Tarillion looked at him, toying with his sleeve. “I only did my duty, and you did yours according to my orders. Tell me, was that the first time you’ve engaged the Vehn?”

  Conrad sensed that he had to tread carefully. “No,” he said. “They’re common enough in deep space.”

  “But any trader or merchant in deep space would flee from the Vehn,” said Tarillion. “They never engage. You engaged the Vehn. Identified their weakness. You’ve fought them before, haven’t you.” It was a statement, not a question.

  Conrad licked his cracked lips. “Beginner’s luck.”

  Tarillion smiled. “I’m trying to figure out what kind of man you are, pilot. At the moment, I suspect that you’re a liar.”

  “I’m not any different from the captains and the pilots of any of the ships that came up to fight. You said it yourself—I did my duty, just like all the other Cirish ships. Some of them died in the process. Can I go?”

  “No.” The answer was clear and very sure.

  “Can I ask why?”

  “Because you’re a wanted man.”

  Conrad stared at the man in the sleek Imperial uniform. He was older, with a head of neatly-trimmed brown-gray hair and a strangely slouching posture for an Imperial captain. He remembered another Imperial captain—Heik. This man wore the same uniform but seemed nothing like him.

  “What?”

  “That ship of yours,” said Tarillion. “Where did you get it?”

  “I bought it,” Conrad lied. “From a trader passing through the system, two years ago. I don’t know where it came from.”

  “I find that very hard to believe,” the captain said. He picked up a data tablet. “There was a ship of this exact make that was stolen out of an Imperial storehouse on Pac Ishi. Someone used a Satori bloodprint to enter the storehouse. That bloodprint is the same as yours.” He folded his arms, the data tablet still in hand. “The simplest explanation is that you stole that ship.”

  Conrad was stricken but he hid his shock. “I’m just a regular pilot,” he insisted. “Commercial.”

  The captain raised a critical eyebrow. “I don’t believe you. I think you’re a thief. But a thief who knows how to fight ... which is interesting indeed.”

  “I appreciate the compliment. Happy to do it. But I swear I didn't steal the ship.” Technically, it was Balt who had done the deed. “Impound it if it's stolen. From what the doc told me it’s completely crushed and destroyed anyway. Besides, I did my patriotic duty. Would a thief have done that?”

  Tarillion shrugged. “Whether you are or aren't, that makes no difference to what happens next. There's a warrant, and your bloodprint matched, and I’m obliged to take you back to Albion Prime. For trial, I presume.”

  Conrad's mouth went dry. “I haven't done anything wrong.”

  “You can tell that to whatever magistrate ends up overseeing the case.” The captain put down the data tablet. “I will, however, add it to the record that you performed admirably in defending Seo Cire. Whatever good that may do.”

  Conrad studied the man. He was profoundly different than Heik—he could sense that right away. He had the feeling that the man had made it a point to be underestimated. Conrad decided to stay calm and respectful, at least for the time being.

  I wonder why I get the feeling that it’s going to be harder to escape from the Lusus than the Secace?

  “I appreciate that,” he said. “But I swear to you that I’m no threat to anyone.”

  Tarillion favored him with a small smile. “Now why do I find that hard to believe?”

  Chapter 15

  Jira stood on the surface of Seo Albans, gazing up at the shimmering clouds above. Xee ruffled its feathers as it waited for her, its body language expressing impatience.

  “Go,” it said, its meaning clear. “He is gone.”

  “Jira,” said Baltasar. “I think it's right.” His face was somber. She had returned to Seo Albans from Seo Cire, hoping against hope that Conrad and the Oro might have come back to their rendezvous point. But there was only Baltasar waiting on cliff.

  She searched the sky fruitlessly for a hint that Conrad might still be alive. After the alarm had lifted she rushed to the public information depots to read the list of ships safely returned from the battle against the Vehn. There had been no mention of a ship like the Oro Yurei.

  Neither was there a record of a ship matching its description among the hundreds of civilian refugee ships that were beginning to trickle back into to Seo space.

  There was only a description of a ship that had risen up into Cirish space to join in the defense of the planet.

  Playing the hero, she thought bitterly. Look where it’s got you.

  “Gone,” it insisted. “Now we must go.”

  She glanced at the strange alien. “Where?”

  “A ship,” it said. “Mine!”

  Baltasar cast a doubtful look at the feathered creature, standing at the cliffside, scratching in the sand. “Where did you find this thing?” he whispered.

  “Deep in the city,” Jira said. “It said ... that the Federation is gone. That there are only remnants now—and that it’s going to help us find them.”

  Baltasar put his hands into his pockets. “Has it got any credentials?” he asked softly.

  Jira shook her head. He folded his arms. “No. We’ve got to get back to the Steadfast.”

  “How, without Conrad?” he asked.

  She looked at Xee. “Xee will take us up there,” he said. “The Steadfast has got to be among those refugee ships. We’ll have to find it. God knows how long they can pretend to be just a standard civilian ship before they get caught. We’ve got to hurry.”

  Baltasar nodded, reluctant. “Fine,” he said. “If you think we can trust it.”

  “Of course we can’t,” she said. “But it’s our best option for now.”

  Xee’s ship was Caderan.

  Jira’s eyes widened when she saw its familiar, rectilinear form. “Where did you get this ship?” she demanded, resting her hand on its hull.

  Xee twisted its proboscis and climbed up the gangplank. Jira turned to look at Baltasar.

  He scratched his head. “The Empire took every last Caderan shipwright,” he said. “This thing’s either ancient ... or our friend here has contacts in the Federation after all.” There was a glimmer of hope in his eye.

  “Either way,” Jira said, “it’s not a bad sign. At this point, I’ll take what I can get.”

  They entered the ship warily. The interior was all efficiency: there was a central hold with four closed-off rooms just big enough for a single bed each, and the cockpit sat at the far end of the ship. Everything was spare and ther
e was no softness or luxury.

  Jira strode directly to the cockpit and took the copilot’s seat. Xee sat down in the other, carefully manipulating an overhead instrument panel with its proboscis.

  “We’re going to find the Steadfast,” she said to the alien. “It’s a midsize ship—maybe three-quarters the size of an Imperial destroyer.” She skimmed her fingers over the instrument panel, searching for comms. “I’m sending out this alphanumeric code. Don’t worry, it’s gibberish to anyone but the Steadfast. The local officials and the Imperials won’t recognize it.”

  “No,” Xee hissed low in its throat. “Only you—and him.” It indicated Baltasar with a twist of its proboscis. “No others.”

  Jira crossed her arms. “Absolutely not,” she said. “You come with me aboard the Steadfast—or I stay right here.”

  Xee looked at her, its face inscrutable.

  “You want us to go with you, don’t you,” said Jira. “You need us. So—those are my terms.”

  It made a soft, trilling sound. “Very well,” it said. “But. Greater the numbers, greater the risk.”

  “Fine,” Jira said, refusing to look nervous. “Take us up, Xee.”

  Her expression softened as the ship began to rumble and disengage from the docks. Everything about the rare, beautiful ship was familiar, and comforting. It rose up into the atmosphere quickly—speed was one of the hallmarks of Caderan design—and headed for the cluster of refugee ships between Seo Albans and Seo Cire.

  A wave of homesickness took her for a moment.

  Is this the last time I’ll be on a Caderan ship? She was reminded again of what Xee had told her about the Federation. The grief was like a punch in her chest. She squeezed her eyes closed for one moment, found her center, and opened them again.

  “You all right?” Baltasar placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

  She patted his wrist. “I’m fine,” she assured him. “I’m just ... anxious to get back to the Steadfast. And to find Conrad.”

  Baltasar hesitated. “D’you think he ... in the battle ...”