“No,” she said firmly. “Absolutely not,” she muttered.
“Maybe he’s already onboard the Steadfast,” Baltasar said. “Stranger things have happened around that boy.”
They navigated the mass of returning ships slowly, Jira’s code transmitting constantly on all open channels. “What is that code?” Baltasar asked.
“A Corps code,” she said.
His eyes boggled. “You stole a Corps code?”
“Hogarth gave it to me, in case I ever had to get past the Corps. And since I don’t see any Protectorate ships out here, I think it’s fairly safe to use.”
The comms panel lit up in red. Relief flashed across Jira’s face. “There it is,” she exclaimed. “Xee—find that signal. Take us there directly.”
Xee guided the ship past a group of small freighters. The Steadfast was waiting for them there.
Jira closed her eyes for a moment. Relief was suddenly overcome with anxiety.
How am I going to explain this to Argus?
The Kazhad roared. Jira winced—she wasn’t sure if it was directed at her, the Vehn, the Imperials, or the universe at large.
“I’m sorry, kit,” she said, reaching to touch his furry arm. “But as far as I can tell, he and the Oro are missing.”
Argus controlled himself only with enormous effort. “The last location ping we have was from the surface of Seo Cire,” he said. “Are you sure he’s not there?”
Jira’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I scoured the news and data about the battle,” she said. “A ship that looked like the Oro joined the fight, on orders from the Imperial patrol ship in the system. It had to be him.”
“The ship did not return?”
Jira shook her head. “It’s not in any of the lists, anyway. And out there they take good accounting of ships after an attack like this.”
Argus dug his claws into his fists. “You’re saying he’s dead,” he said.
“No,” she said. “There’s a list of the ships that were destroyed in the battle. I didn’t see one that matched the Oro. He must be in Imperial custody.”
“We must find him.”
Jira took a deep breath. “Argus—that alien we brought onboard, Xee—it said it knows where the Federation is. The Empire crushed the Federation since we’ve been gone, but there are remnants still. It promised to take us there—to what’s left of it.”
“We must find Conrad,” the faithful Kazhad repeated.
Jira felt cold, as if she was betraying Conrad by even entertaining the notion of leaving the system without him. But it was the only logical thing to do.
“If we find allies in the Federation—or whoever still remains to oppose the Empire—then we have a chance, Argus. There’s nothing we can do here, while seven Imperial warships are floating around us. If we stay, they’ll find us out eventually. We have to go now and find support, and get the Steadfast away from the Imperial presence. Then and only then can we try to rescue him.”
He stared at her, his great dark eyes mournful.
Jira looked at him. “You know how I felt about him,” she said to Argus. “How I ... feel about him,” she corrected herself.
“I’ll do anything to get him back. And I’m telling you, this is the only way.”
Chapter 16
Why hasn’t he killed me yet? Or at least had me beaten into a pulp?
Captain Lees Tarillion was perplexing, Conrad decided.
He bit down on the gauze that dressed the wound on his hand. It was deep; the shrapnel from the explosion he’d rigged had blasted away the locks on the Oro, but it had also sliced into his own flesh.
He ripped it off with his teeth, his other hand still too injured to be unwrapped. He studied the wound; it was red and ugly, but the anesthetic healing gel that the ship’s doctor had smeared on it was beginning to work.
Same stuff that Balt used on me back on Pac Ishi, he realized. That time felt like centuries ago. Still, the wound wasn’t healed enough for him to make another escape attempt.
“If you keep worrying it, it’ll never heal,” said Asifa, walking to his bedside, watching him with her arms crossed. “Leave it alone, or I’ll sedate you for the rest of the trip to the Albion system. I don’t see why the captain didn’t order me to do that earlier. You’ve been nothing but a pain in the arse since you’ve come aboard.”
“Sorry, doc,” he said to her with a winning smile. “Wasn’t my intention to make trouble for you.”
She looked at him as if he had said something stupid. “Really. Not your intention? Because you’ve spent the entire week trying to blast the Lusus to bits from within.”
“The first duty of a prisoner is to escape—”
“—and you’re making a fine effort,” said the captain dryly as he came into the medbay. “Asifa, thank you.”
The doctor gave Conrad one last glare of warning before turning on her heel and walking away.
Tarillion assessed Conrad’s condition with a single glance. “You did better this time,” he remarked, as if he were a teacher and Conrad was a favored student. “If you had placed one more set of charges at the base of your ship, five feet below the right side of the cockpit, you might have been able to blow the front locks off. That was an oversight on your part.”
“Noted,” Conrad replied. “I didn’t want to damage the cockpit,” he added. “That part of the ship’s pretty important for my purposes.”
“That would depend on the strength of the explosive,” said Tarillion. “I understand that you used a cocktail of chemicals that you stole out of the medbay for this attempt. I’d advise that you adjust your formula to be a bit more tempered—maybe a two-stage explosion? Although,” he said, wagging a finger at Conrad, “Dr. Asifa’s locked down all of her supplies so you’ll have to be more inventive next time around.”
“Maybe you’re all smarter than me and I should just give up,” said Conrad. I can’t believe I’m having this conversation.
“That’s probably wise,” Tarillion nodded. “But I doubt that you will.”
Conrad finally broke. “What’s happening here?”
Tarillion wore a poker face. “Just a friendly discussion between two people who happen to be in the same line of work,” he said.
“I’ve damaged your ship,” he said.
“Nothing that can’t be repaired—and quickly.” Tarillion uncrossed his arms and gestured to Conrad. “Follow me, pilot.”
Conrad warily followed him outside the medbay. The guards that tailed Conrad wherever he went fell into place around him. “Howdy, boys,” he said to them. “Good to see you again.”
He sensed their annoyance but they remained silent.
“Where are we going?”
“It’s time we had a little chat, you and I, before you actually succeed in blowing up my ship.”
The captain’s office was small and stark, but had a floor-to-ceiling viewport that looked out into the darkness. Tarillion poured an amber liquid into two glasses and pushed one towards Conrad.
“I wasn’t expecting the Empire to be so hospitable to its prisoners,” Conrad said.
“The Empire isn’t,” said Tarillion, sitting down in his chair. “But I am, especially when that prisoner has risked his own life for the planets under my protection.”
Conrad accepted the glass. The liquid smelled strong—he was grateful for that. He turned his attention to the captain, his curiosity burning.
“Please sit,” Tarillion said.
Conrad took a sip of his drink. It burned. It reminded him, strangely enough, of the whiskey that Garrity favored.
“If you really want to thank me for what I did, you’d let me go,” Conrad said.
“That’s impossible, I’m afraid,” he said. “The moment we took your bloodprint, the powers that be were alerted to your capture. If I were to let you go, it would be my neck on the chopping block, after a few days and nights of torture, of course.” He studied Conrad behind his glass. “Shall I tell you a secret?�
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“The drink loosened your lips pretty quick.”
Tarillion didn’t smile. “Lord High Admiral Karsath’s seal is on your warrant, pilot. Ten ships have been dispatched from within this quadrant to escort us all the way back to Albion Prime. That order came minutes after your arrest was entered into the system. Tell me—why is the Lord High Admiral so concerned about dispatching a simple thief?”
Conrad’s blood ran cold.
“I see by your face that you’re surprised by this development. Interesting.”
Conrad struggled to find the right words. “I ... don’t understand.”
Tarillion leaned in. “Understand this. I am not your enemy.”
Conrad stared into the captain’s sharp, ice-blue eyes. “My enemy,” he repeated.
“Yes.” Tarillion put down his glass and folded his hands. “Admiral Karsath has been searching for you for quite some time. Since the moment your bloodprint was sent through the Imperial archives, there’s been a live warrant out for your arrest. And the bounty out for your capture has been large enough to pay for an entire planet.”
“I’m not worth the trouble,” he managed to say. “I had no idea.”
What in all the hells is this?
“That’s obviously false,” said Tarillion. “What does the name Tadao Southwark mean to you?”
“That means—nothing,” he said automatically.
“I see,” said Tarillion, clearly unconvinced. “Well, then. I’m sure you’ll be able to convince Admiral Karsath of the same.”
Enough. Conrad realized that there was no more hiding from Tarillion, no choice but to trust him.
“You say that you’re not my enemy—why? Are you a Federation agent?”
“Lords, no,” Tarillion said. “It’s a long story. I hope I’ll have the time to explain at some later point. But we’re almost at the rendezvous point with the fleet that Karsath has dispatched to escort us back. I haven't much time to help you—if you’ll even allow me to do so.”
“What kind of help are you talking about?”
“I can prepare you for what lies ahead, to the best of my ability. I can’t save you from what the Empire will do to you. That you must face alone.”
Chapter 17
“Where in all the hells are we?” Argus muttered as they exited the portal. A wide asteroid field lay ahead of them. It was young, in astronomical terms, its asteroids moving at a high velocity, and close to each other.
Baltasar shook his head. “It’s all too strange for me. Wish I had even the tiniest clue. We’re not in a civilized system, that much is obvious. There’s nothing here I recognize. Even the stars seem wrong, somehow.”
“I’m sure it’s just nerves,” Jira assured him, even as her own heart rate shot up. “By my count we’ve been through thirteen portals. We’re far, far away from the heart of the Empire. If I recall correctly ... this is an unnamed system. It has an alphanumeric record assigned to it, but it’s so far out that no one’s bothered to give it a proper name. There’s some safety in that, at least.”
Xee stood next to the helmsman, his claws tapping on the controls. “We go,” it insisted. “Forward. Another portal, and then through. Almost there.”
Argus growled from the captain’s chair, his misgivings clear. “We are strangers here,” he said, turning to Jira. “Even you and Balt are strangers here. When will we reach our destination?”
“Soon,” said Xee.
Argus leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. “I’m putting the entire ship and crew in the hands of an alien that can barely talk,” he muttered to Jira.
“You say ‘alien’ like it’s something bad,” she said, eyeing him. “How hypocritical.”
“Now is not the time to argue about this with me,” he warned her.
“Go through,” Xee said, indicating the asteroid belt. “Portal beyond, in two days.”
Argus made an impatient sound. “Enough,” he said, standing up. He strode towards the feathered alien, his imposing height and bulk heightened by his spiked-up scruff. Xee remained as enigmatic as ever, no emotion showing on its small face.
“We’re in more danger than we were at Seo Cire,” he said to it. “Out here there are no supplies, no outposts, nowhere to go for help if something should happen. And Vehn out there, somewhere. Where are you taking us? Who do you work for, if not the Federation or the Empire?”
Xee lowered its head, its proboscis flailing. “She sent me,” Xee said. “A servant of the Locc, she is. She knew he would be at Cire. And sent Xee there to bring him.”
The hairs stood up on the back of Jira’s neck. “The Locc?”
Xee looked at her with its expressionless eyes. “The Lord of the Dark,” it said.
“He?” Argus stared at it. “Conrad?”
It bobbed its head.
“How did she know he would be there?” Jira demanded.
Xee twisted its proboscis and refused to respond.
“But we don't have him,” said Jira. “The Empire does—for now.”
“We go on,” it insisted.
The tension was palpable. Jira shivered. But it was Argus who finally broke the silence.
“Continue,” he said to the helmsman. “Go where it tells us to go. But keep me informed at all times about any potential threat.”
Jira went to find Argus two days later. He was brooding near a viewport near his quarters, his tail wrapped around his paws.
“Argus,” she said. “We’ll find him.”
He cast a doubtful expression at her. “Every moment we head further away from Seo Cire,” he said. “And further away from Conrad. What makes you think we’ll find him?”
“It’s just a feeling, I guess.” She came up next to him, and placed a hand against the thick, clear material that composed the viewport. “He’s survived everything up to this point, and so have we.”
“He’s in Imperial custody,” Argus said, his tail twitching. “What will happen to him?”
Jira ran through the various scenarios, none of them good. “Well, if they have him, then it’s safe to say that they have the Oro. They’ll charge him for theft of Imperial property, I guess.”
“And the punishment?”
She leaned her forehead against the viewport. “Death, of course.”
Argus growled. Jira knew that in this situation, every hope was tainted. But there was still something that she could say to reassure the Kazhad.
“Argus ... you have to consider the fact of Conrad’s bloodprint.”
He looked at her, his enormous eyes narrowing.
“They’ll have his bloodprint by now,” she said. “You remember what his bloodprint indicated? That he was, by all accounts, the purest of the pure. A Satori scion of the finest bloodlines. He even looks like them. They’re not going to execute him for thievery the minute they get their hands on him. They’ll want to know who he is—where he came from. And that gives us some time.”
“Will they take him back to Albion Prime?”
Jira bit her lip. “I think so, yes. Unless they execute him on the spot, which I doubt they’ll do once they take his bloodprint. Stealing Imperial property like the Oro is a capital offense. And they’ll want to find out what they can about him.”
Argus rumbled in his chest, still impatient. “You are right that we need allies,” he conceded. “But I wonder if we’ll run out of time once we find them—if we do.”
Jira put her hand against the viewport. She felt the fine vibrations of the ship—they were decelerating. “We may be closer than you think,” she said, studying the space outside the Steadfast. “The ship’s slowing down. Xee must have gotten us to our destination.”
They were somewhere in the far reaches of the uncolonized Empire. The Steadfast had no starmaps or navcharts of this region, but by gazing at the stars Jira guessed that they were nearly fifteen portal jumps out from the heart of the Empire. In simpler terms, they were in the wild.
The system they were in now
was filled with planets, moons, and moonlets. Jira marveled at the sheer number of rocky objects. It was, she realized, a very good place to hide.
Xee knew exactly where they were to go. It took another day to guide the Steadfast to the nearest habitable object, a small moonlet linked to a large, dead moon.
As they advanced, Jira’s anxiety grew. As far as she could see there were no hints that there were any ships in the system; no hints of a Federation presence. There was only darkness.
There should be something. A beacon, or a sentry drone, or something. It was far too quiet.
She put her hand on the back of the captain’s chair, where Argus sat. She mouthed another prayer that there was somebody waiting for them, and that they had news about the Federation—or at least some way of communicating. The farther out they went, the more lost Jira felt. She should have been able to brush it aside. But since she had departed Sanctuary space, the universe seemed to have turned itself inside out.
The most frightening thing was to be cut off from everything she once knew. To have lost every one that mattered, and to not even know if they were alive or dead. It was almost worse to be the last one left, she thought, wandering the stars like an outcast.
“There,” Xee said, crooking a claw at the moonlet. It twisted its head to gaze at Jira. “Go there.”
“Thypso XXIV,” said Jira, digging up the name from her eidetic memory. “That’s its name. Mapped by the Empire half a millennia ago, and ignored since.”
“It’s a dead planet,” the ops officer said. “It has the most basic atmospheric components to support life, but ... I’m not getting any readings of large scale forests or life forms.”
“Why did you take us here?” Jira asked Xee.
“This is where she is,” it replied, the crest of feathers on top of its head fanning open. “She awaits you.”
Chapter 18
The Imperial shipyards rendered Conrad speechless.
He stood on the bridge of the Lusus, his guards omnipresent but forgotten for the moment. Captain Tarillion stood behind him, ever watchful.
Sanctuary's Gambit: The Darkspace Saga Book 2 Page 10