Sanctuary's Gambit: The Darkspace Saga Book 2

by B. C. Kellogg

  He opened his eyes to darkspace. The pressure was there, omnipresent, but he pushed back this time with every ounce of his resolve.

  I have to do this. My father did it. I will do it too.

  The drones prickled his consciousness as they entered the portal. He resisted the pressure, counting them again. It was bordering on unbearable.

  I can. I must. I will.

  He thought briefly of his father.

  Look, he sent the thought into the void. I’m here.

  He closed his eyes again.

  And—there.

  He opened his eyes. There was no blood trickling from his nose this time, and he was still on his feet. He turned and looked at Kazu as if in challenge.

  “I’ve done it,” he said without waiting. “Take me back to Karsath.”

  The uniform itched. That was the first thing. He tried to ignore the irritation, standing up even straighter. It had been the first time he’d worn a fleet uniform since the Arbiter abandoned him on Arkona.

  I should be grateful, he thought. Grateful for a uniform, sterilized rations, and self-cleaning commodes.

  And yet ...

  He tugged on his jacket and looked to the shuttle that had just landed, its ramp lowering. Kazu stood behind him, his staff in hand, as if guarding him. The contrast could not have been greater between them at that moment: a young officer in a neat, clean uniform, and an ancient madman in stained brown rags.

  “Commander Southwark,” a voice came from the shuttle, disembodied for a moment until a lean, tall man came walking down the ramp. He bowed his head. Karsath was still his master, wasn’t he? He remembered his father’s words. For the good of the Empire. Whoever his father was, he served the Empire. There was no question about that. And the Lord High Admiral was the Empire.

  “My Lord High Admiral,” he said respectfully.

  He lifted his head to see the man examining him, his keen gaze missing nothing. “Your hair’s grown,” the admiral observed. “It’s no longer regulation length.”

  “I’ll remedy that as soon as I can,” he said. He knew he had lost weight during his time on Arkona. He was all muscle and bone, bordering on gaunt. No doubt the admiral had noticed.

  “You may board the shuttle, commander,” said Karsath. “We’ll be returning to the Arbiter shortly. Tell me, have you found your stay here enlightening?”

  “Extremely, sir,” he said, as he walked towards the shuttle.

  He paused at the top of the ramp. Karsath had moved towards Kazu, the two men conferring quietly.

  He stood still. They likely thought he couldn’t hear them, but months in the silence of Arkona and the Satori had sharpened his hearing to the sound the human voices.

  “Is he obedient?” Karsath was asking.

  “Will he ever be able to command the fleet? Or will he only be able to take the fleet through the portals?”

  “Perhaps. Perhaps not. He’ll need years of tactical training before he can command anything. That’s more training and experience than those injections of yours can provide. He’s not his father,” Kazu replied. “Not yet.”

  “Is that good or bad?” Karsath queried.

  “That remains to be seen,” said Kazu. “So much depends on what he’s inherited. If he’s too much like Tadao, in the end ... if he fails ...” the old man paused. “We’ll start again.”

  He dug his nails into his palms. Kazu would have him again, he realized. Wipe his mind and remake him, over and over, until they obtained the weapon they desired.

  But this was what I was born and raised to do, isn’t it?

  For the first time, he felt a stirring of rebellion. He quashed it immediately. Even if Tadao Southwark had resisted Kazu, his father had served the Empire. He would do the same.

  Still, he could not completely ignore the insistent questions that had been haunting him since he’d come upon the secret message.

  Is there a way to escape this legacy? What happened to you, father?

  Chapter 29

  The Imperial fleet gathered, hundreds upon hundreds of black ships great and small, floating in a massive cloud at the edges of the Secundus shipyards.

  It took Tarillion’s breath away, even as he felt his jaw clench. Since his last meeting with Karsath on Secundus two weeks ago, Karsath had watched the lists of ships assigned to the armada grow, cycle by cycle, to the point where he wondered if Karsath was willing to let every major world of the Empire go unguarded in order to gather his fleet. More ships approached Secundus each day, the entire planet buzzing with activity as preparations for the annexation began.

  “Captain,” said Stael, his shuttle pilot. “The Arbiter is waiting. We just received permission to dock.”

  He nodded slowly, his eyes still fixated on the mesmerizing vision of the assembled fleet. “You see that, Stael?” he said, indicating the viewport. “A fleet of this size hasn’t been amassed in your lifetime.”

  Stael’s eyes flickered to the viewport as he adjusted the controls. He didn’t want to appear distracted in front of his captain. “As you say, sir ... never seen anything like it.” There was wonder in his youthful voice.

  Tarillion rubbed a hand over his chin. “I’d hoped never to see this again, myself.”

  “Again, Captain?”

  “I was at Bespiuhiri.” He said it as casually as he could. Stael was one of the newest pilots to join the Lusus; it was possible that he hadn’t known.

  Stael’s eyes widened. Tarillion knew that the annexation of Bespiuhiri was the most legendary campaign of the past century ... but the memories of his participation in that slaughter depressed him every time he heard the name of the system. It had won him the Lusus, and sowed a seed of doubt in him that had grown in him until he could no longer ignore it.

  “Sir,” Stael said tentatively, “Will this be like Bespiuhiri? What kind of annexation is this?”

  “Lords willing it will be nothing like Bespiuhiri. This will be the most important annexation in a thousand years,” he murmured. “And it’s only the beginning.” He thought of what would happen if everything went according to Karsath’s plan. All he needed was Conrad Redeker, and Tarillion had handed the boy over to an unknown fate.

  Stael maneuvered the shuttle between the waiting ships. He radiated nervous energy as he took in the size of the armada. He’s so Lords-damned young, Tarillion thought wearily.

  For Stael, who’d only served onboard the Lusus for a year, everything was tinged with excitement and glory. There were ships that the boy had likely never seen before with his own eyes—destroyers and dozens of fighter ship types, zipping between the larger ships and carriers. The Arbiter was waiting at a position close to Alpha Station, while all other ships kept a respectful distance.

  “Forgive me for asking, sir,” said Stael. “Do you ... do you think we’ll be on the front lines of this annexation?”

  Tarillion looked at the gawky shuttle pilot, barely able to contain his nerves. If Stael had been on any other ship, he probably would have been celebrating the beginning of their first annexation with all the other young soldiers. But every soul onboard the Lusus knew that its captain did not share that same opinion of Imperial conquest, and the mood of the crew had been somber when he’d returned to his ship.

  He gave the boy a tired smile and gave him an amiable pat on the shoulder. “You don’t need to pretend, Stael,” he said. “It’s all right to be excited. I know they tell you to look forward to days like this.”

  “Since I joined,” Stael burst out. “And even before that—my father and grandfather served in five annexations each. I know what they say about you and annexations, sir, but this is really something, isn’t it?”

  A muscle twitched under his eye. “It is,” he agreed. “As for being on the front lines, Stael ... if you’re a religious man, ask the Lords of the Dark to save us from that.”

  “Gentlemen,” said Karsath.

  The admiral opened his palm and an image appeared above the holographic projector. It
was a navchart that Karsath navigated through with small gestures of his fingers, expanding the image until a solar system floated above the heads of the assembled fleet captains.

  The men shifted in their seats. Some sat up eagerly; others leaned back, their steely eyes never wavering from the hologram at the center of the room. Tarillion had chosen a place near the exit, at the far back of the room. He’d been the last man to enter and planned to be the first to leave. There was no need to attract any more attention than necessarily.

  “This is Ioxis,” said Karsath. “A system that we have only observed at a distance, for the last decade. The central planet—our initial target—is called Ioxa. It’s surrounded by two inhabited moons. There are high numbers of sentient non-humans living on them. There are mostly human inhabitants on Ioxa; the culture is relatively advanced, controlling the whole of its solar system and beginning to encroach upon the nearest system. Ioxans are only aware of the portal within their system, and they’re using it to lay siege to their neighbor. Their culture is highly aggressive and belligerent. Give them a few hundred years, and they’ll probably conquer the five surrounding systems. An excellent match to go up against our troops—the Ioxans will put up a good, memorable fight.”

  Naturally, there was no doubt in Karsath’s tone as to the ultimate outcome of that battle.

  “Your men have been restless, I know. Especially yours, Leram,” he continued with a nod to General Walis. “Ioxis will be an annexation that will rival the most rewarding annexations of your careers.”

  A soft murmur went through the room. Tarillion could almost smell the ambition and bloodlust in the air. Chasing down the fragments of the Federation wasn’t enough. It had been a long time since the fleet had engaged in an annexation of this scale.

  Too long, Tarillion thought. They’ll butcher the Ioxans. Even if the bloody bastards deserved to be put in their place, Tarillion couldn’t bring himself to wish an annexation on any people.

  “I will attend this annexation myself,” said Karsath. “But Fleet Captain Lees Tarillion will lead the initial entry into the Ioxis system and oversee the annexation. The Lusus will be the principal ship of this annexation.”

  Apparently you’ll get your wish, Stael, Tarillion thought ruefully. Fleet Captain. Emperor’s Arse—I guess I’ve been promoted.

  Fleet Captain was a title only given to captains given command of an annexation fleet. He’d keep the honorific for the rest of his life—my very short life, he groused silently. He should have guessed that the annexation at Moruus would be the prelude to something like this; Karsath had handed off command of the fleet at Moruus to him at a critical juncture. Perhaps it had all been an audition for this annexation.

  He crossed his arms and stared unblinking at the hologram at the center of the room as the other captains glanced at him. They murmured to each other. He hoped that none of them could see through the mask he wore over his features. No doubt they imagined that he reveled in his role as Karsath’s favorite.

  Lords, what I wouldn’t give to get out of this.

  Karsath continued speaking, a glint in his eye. “Ioxis is also seven jumps away from Secundus, with intervening distances adding up to approximately three hundred days’ worth of sublight travel.”

  A shocked silence fell. It was Walis, an old comrade and favorite of Karsath, who dared to speak up.

  “Three hundred days?” He leaned forward, placing his meaty palms on his knees. “A fleet of this size is going to travel that far and that long for an annexation of a deeply hostile, well-armed system? Half the ships and half the men in this fleet have peacekeeping duties on conquered worlds. What’s the strategy, then?”

  Walis knew better than to accuse him of being shortsighted. They’d fought together too many times, Tarillion thought.

  One does not underestimate Attilio Karsath.

  Karsath smiled. “It won’t take us three hundred days to travel to Ioxis, I assure you,” he said. “It will take less than a single day.” He gestured to a figure near the table, who stood up at his command.

  “This, gentlemen, is Commander Southwark.”

  The briefing was over and Tarillion made quickly for the door.

  “Fleet Captain Tarillion,” he heard Karsath say, as he stood up. Tarillion closed his eyes and turned on his heel. He bowed, avoiding the admiral’s eye, and trying to ignore the young man who stood behind him.

  The other captains were filing out. There was only one reason Karsath would ask him to stay.

  “Admiral,” he acknowledged.

  “Southwark—this is Captain Lees Tarillion. One of the finest captains in our fleet. He led our last annexation at Moruus.”

  Tarillion looked at the commander. He was thinner than he remembered Conrad Redeker being. There were no scars on him, no obvious signs of torture or augmentation. He saw a young man with close-cropped black hair and dark eyes, dressed in a uniform without an indication of division or rank. He was as pale as a ghost.

  There was no trace of recognition in his eyes as he stared back at Tarillion.

  Damn.

  “Commander,” he said. “A pleasure to meet you.”

  “Likewise, Fleet Captain.”

  “I believe that the admiral expects great things of you,” he said, still hoping to see some hint of the boy who was once Conrad Redeker. “As we all do during this upcoming engagement.”

  “I’ll strive to do my best, of course,” said the commander, his eyes still blank.

  He doesn’t remember me at all. Damn, damn, damn.

  “No doubt, Captain, you are wondering what happens to your ship now,” said Karsath. “The fleet is almost ready to travel. We launch from Oyruta.”

  Annexation fleets never launched from the Albion portal. Albion’s was too important a portal, and too visible. Instead, the fleet would travel to the Oyruta portal for departure, where commercial traffic was already being rerouted.

  “Weapons upgrades are being implemented for all patrol ships joining the fleet—including the Lusus. Along with some other ... unique equipment for Commander Southwark’s use onboard your ship.”

  That’s my last chance. “Admiral,” he said. “As always, I am grateful for your trust in me, but even with extensive weapons upgrades the Lusus isn’t battleworthy. Not for an annexation, anyway. It wasn’t meant for anything more than patrols and—”

  “The Lusus will not be put in danger,” said Karsath. “Not in the direct line of fire, once the fleet’s in the system. Commander Southwark will take the first line of the fleet through, and the ships that go with the Lusus will advance ahead of you. Then the commander will return to the Oyruta portal and bring through another contingent of ships, and then another.”

  “Excuse me for interrupting, sir,” said Tarillion. “But why must they go in stages? Is it not possible for the entire fleet to travel through at once?”

  Karsath smiled. “A good question,” he said. “I have no doubt that it’s within the commander’s abilities—eventually. But for now, we will proceed according to this plan. Once the fleet has fully been transported to Ioxis, five ships will take up escort positions to take the Lusus to the safest position during the annexation, near the portal. The commander’s safety must be preserved,” he said with emphasis. “I would sacrifice half the fleet to ensure that he survives the battle.”

  The commander still showed no expression. He was far from the irreverent, uncontrollable rebel that he had been when Tarillion brought him onboard the Lusus.

  “I’m entrusting Commander Southwark to you, Tarillion,” the admiral continued. “And you are to obey every order that he relays. Treat them as if they came directly from me. Prepare your ship, your crew, and report to the Arbiter in seven cycles for the final briefing.”

  “Understood,” he said. What else could he say?

  “The future of the Empire hinges on the success of this annexation, Captain,” said Karsath. “You are my finest lieutenant. You will not disappoint. Keep Commander So
uthwark alive.”

  Should I kill this Commander Southwark?

  It was what he had promised the Kazhad that prowled the Citadel in order to save Jira’s life. And his own, for that matter. It would be the most logical thing to do. The boy was unarmed and completely at his mercy. He ran through the gruesome scenarios in his head. Poison in his rations would be the most painless way. He could convince Dr. Asifa to help—but that would mean making her an accomplice. Or, a direct lasgun blast to the temple would do it. It was all a matter of how and when.

  His own death immediately following the murder was a given. A blast to his head, and then a blast to mine, he thought grimly. That would do it.

  Tarillion pulled open a drawer to find his last flask of Tynish whiskey. It was already half empty. With a frown, he thunked it onto the table before him. He didn’t bother with a glass, unscrewing the cap and taking a swig of the smoky, fiery liquor straight from the container. Southwark regarded him without emotion.

  “Care to try it?” he asked, offering the whiskey to the younger man. “This is Seo Tyne’s finest. Forgive my manners for taking the first drink, commander.”

  “No, thank you,” said Southwark flatly. “Are there any duties that I can take on for you during this phase of preparation onboard the Lusus, Captain?”

  Tarillion licked his lips and reluctantly screwed the cap back on. The liquor burned sweetly on his tongue.

  Lords, I’ll miss this. And Seo Tyne. And Qloe ...

  “You know,” he remarked. “This is probably the last time I’ll taste Tynish whiskey. It’s illegal off world and I won’t be returning to the frontier for a long, long time. You haven’t been there before, have you?”

  “Not to my knowledge,” Southwark said, his body perfectly still.

  Tarillion toyed with the bottle. “Admiral Karsath has entrusted me with your safekeeping.”

  There was a flicker in Southwark’s composure at that. So, he doesn’t like to think of himself as an object. They didn’t turn him into a perfect robot after all.