Sanctuary's Gambit: The Darkspace Saga Book 2
Page 20
“We both serve the admiral,” said Southwark. “We both serve the Empire.”
“Yes, of course,” said Tarillion. “Tell me—what did you do before ... this, commander? Have you been training for this annexation your entire life? Are you prepared for what’s about to happen?”
Another flicker. He was uncertain. Tarillion pressed on. “It wouldn’t surprise me if you had. They say that Tadao Southwark was a soldier even in childhood. You’re certainly following in that tradition, aren’t you?”
At the name, Southwark looked at him directly in the eye. “What do you know about Tadao Southwark?” he said.
“Less than you do, I’m sure,” Tarillion said. “One of the Founders. Arguably the most legendary one.”
Southwark went still again.
My Lords, Tarillion thought, aghast. What did they do to him?
A feeling of guilt burned in the back of his mind. I did this, he thought. This is my fault. I turned Conrad Redeker over to Karsath. To be turned into ... this.
He re-opened the bottle and took another sip as he picked up a tablet, trying to keep his actions casual. There was one last thing he could do, to see if there was anything left of Conrad Redeker in the hollowed-out man sitting in front of him. “My concubine, you know, loves all those old stories,” he said, with the air of a man who thought women were naturally ridiculous and good for only one thing.
“Not a very smart girl,” he confided, nudging the tablet forward on the desk. “Dumb as a Damrese auxriche bird, as a matter of fact. But look at her—she’s pretty enough, isn’t she?”
“Yes, she is.” The boy didn’t even bother looking at the tablet, merely stared straight past his shoulder.
“Go on, take a look,” said Tarillion, pushing the tablet towards him. “That’s just the image from her indenture. Doesn’t do her justice, but she’s really not bad for being hauled off a frontier swine farm, is she?”
Reluctantly, Southwark looked down. His eyes raked over the image—
—And returned to looking at the darkness beyond the viewport.
“She’s attractive,” he said tonelessly.
Tarillion ground his teeth.
Damn. If that didn’t do it ... the conditioning must have been total.
If nothing of Conrad Redeker survived the conditioning, killing off Commander Southwark will be a kindness.
Chapter 30
Tarillion carded a hand through his hair as he spoke, pacing the confines of his office.
“We have no choice, Jira,” he said. “It’s our best option. Our only option, given how little time we have.”
“No,” she refused, her voice shaky and tinny through the covert connection that linked the Lusus to the Steadfast. “There’s no reason to even talk about this.”
“There’s nothing of Conrad Redeker left,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “They wiped everything. His memories, his knowledge ... everything except language. It’s all gone. They loaded up his brain with what they want him to know. They’re all artificial memories. And whatever they gave him, Jira, it’s not good for the last remnants of the Federation—for anyone who opposes the Empire.”
“That damned Kazhad got to you,” she hissed. “You’re afraid of that animal. You just want to save your own skin!”
“That Kazhad stands a foot higher than me and has twice as much muscle and three times as many teeth. It knows the Steadfast exists. I had to trade the ship’s coordinates for your life. I am afraid of it. So should you be. But think, Jira. Don’t feel. The more you let yourself feel, the more difficult this will be.”
“Tell him everything,” Jira said. “Maybe that will shake something loose in his head. Tell him about Earth, about Sanctuary. There must be something. Tell him about me.”
“He’s as likely to report us to Karsath as run off and try to escape with us. More likely, even.”
“He must remember me,” she said. “Or Argus. You have to at least try, Lees.”
Tarillion sat down heavily in his chair. “I already did,” he said. “I showed him your picture. He had no reaction. He doesn’t know you anymore, my dear.”
There was silence over the line. He drew a deep breath.
“Not yet,” she said finally. “We don’t know if he he’s even capable of what they want him to do. Give him more time. Don’t do anything yet.”
She paused, waiting for his agreement. Tarillion stayed silent.
“Promise me,” she said. Her demand sounded more like a desperate plea than a true demand. “Promise you won’t do anything yet.”
Tarillion drank the last of his whiskey. “Keep the Steadfast hidden, Jira. Keep your crew hidden and safe until the annexation’s over. I’ll take care of the rest.”
He switched off the comm before she could say anything more.
I can’t make that promise, you stupid, lovesick girl.
“He’s going to kill him,” Jira said, half-stunned, staring at Argus, Jeq and Baltasar. The four of them sat in Conrad’s ready room. Jeq rubbed a hand over his chin, perturbed.
“The captain is a liar,” Argus hissed. “He vowed to help us rescue Conrad, and now—”
“Watch yourself,” said Jeq, warning in his voice. “I know my captain, and you won’t slander him while I’m here.”
“It was the Kazhad,” said Jira, and Argus’s ears flattened against his head. “There was a Kazhad on Secundus. Tarillion said it was the admiral’s pet. It put the idea in his head. It made us swear to kill Conrad. Said that his people had suffered because of the Empire, a long time ago, and that they are going to use Conrad in the same way.”
“What way is that?” asked Baltasar.
“He’s going to take them through the portal,” she said. “The entire fleet. That’s why they’re gathering around Secundus. They’re preparing for an annexation. He’ll take them straight through to the target system, wherever that is. I don’t know how much the Kazhad told me is true—”
Argus gurgled low in his throat. “Kazhad never lie,” he said. “Lies mean death to the Kazhad.”
She folded her arms and glared at him. “You’re putting a lot of confidence in a people you hardly know,” she said. “You’d take their word? Let Tarillion kill Conrad—”
Argus slammed a paw on the table, his claws unsheathed. “Do not test me,” he snarled.
“Fine,” she snapped. “Then tell me how we’re going to rescue him.”
“So,” Baltasar broke in. He leaned back in his chair and plopped his feet down on the tabletop. “Let me see if I understand this correctly. The two of you want to not only tag along to a Lords-damned annexation but also hop aboard the lead ship and borrow the admiral’s latest toy?”
“Conrad is no toy,” said Argus.
“That’s not what it sounds like to me,” said Balt.
Jira turned to Jeq. “Listen,” she said. “We have to go after the Lusus. Tarillion won’t like it, but you need to tell us how to stay with the fleet.”
Jeq stared at her. “You expect me to disobey my captain?”
Jira flattened her hands on the table. “I don’t expect you to,” she said. “I’m asking you to.”
He continued to stare at her, appalled. “I’d throw myself in front of a lasgun blast to save Captain Tarillion,” he said. “What makes you think I would defy him to help you go on this suicide mission?”
Jira dropped her voice. “You want to save his life, Jeq? Then you’ll do this. Because if Tarillion goes through with his plans, he’s going to kill Conrad. And what do you think Admiral Karsath is going to do to the man who kills his new favorite weapon?”
At this, Jeq stood up abruptly from his seat. “You’re asking me to commit mutiny.”
“I’m asking you to save your captain’s life,” she repeated. “There’s a way through this where he lives. Where both our captains live. Nobody has to die,” she said softly. “We can take Tarillion with us—”
“Unrealistic,” said Jeq. “Someone always dies.”<
br />
“He’s right,” said Baltasar. “And I’d rather that person not be me. Unlike everyone else in this room, I happen to enjoy being alive. Would prefer to stay that way as long as possible. And I say we do what Tarillion told us to do, and stay out of this mess. Take the walking computer here”—he jerked a thumb at Jira—“back to the Federation or Sanctuary. Maybe they’ll know what to do with all the tasty data bits inside that tiny wee brain of yours.”
“Tarillion told me on our way down to Secundus what the Empire does to traitors,” she said to Jeq, ignoring Balt. “I thought I knew, but he told me all the bloody details. They cut off their heads and nail their bodies to the walls of the palace. You’ve seen it happen. Do you want that to happen to him? Think about what betrayal really means, Jeq. If you let him kill Conrad, then you’ll see his corpse on the palace walls. You won’t escape that for the rest of your sorry, Lords-damned life.”
Jeq had folded his meaty arms and was glaring down at her, his eyes burning like hot coals. A muscle twitched in his jaw.
The mood in the room was tense as they waited for his answer. Jeq sunk back down into his seat, dropping his head into his hand. “There are consequences for this,” he said finally. “If you succeed—that’s an almost impossible if—then the Lusus and its crew are forfeit. You’re asking me to mutiny against my captain and to send my ship and crew into exile.”
Jira didn’t flinch. “I am. To save us all, Jeq.”
He stared solemnly through the viewport, out into the darkness, no doubt imagining the Lusus and her captain waiting out there. He swiveled his gaze back to Jira. “I’ll do it,” he said finally. “The fleet departs in two standard days. When it does, we’ll go with it. But if you’re wise, woman, you’ll prepare yourself to die in the process. Make your peace with the Lords of the Dark. They’re coming to swallow your soul.”
The man they called Commander Southwark flew the shuttle towards the portal at breakneck speed. He swung the shuttle in a wide loop, arcing around the massive guardships that edged the portal, deaf to the automated warning alarms that sounded inside the cabin.
This was the only freedom he’d been allowed since ... well, since he could remember. But even here, he wasn’t alone.
“Where are you going today, commander?” asked Karsath. His tone was cool and disinterested.
His eyes unfocused slightly when he heard the admiral’s voice in his ear. He slowed the shuttle down. Was he being recalled?
The latest modification made to his body was jarring: a comm line implanted directly into the auditory nerve of his left ear, his nerve severed and then force-grown to surround the comm tech. There will be no barriers between you and I—we will go into battle together, Karsath had promised.
“To Damron,” he said.
He was aiming for the Damrese system ... but that wasn’t the point of his journey. He’d had enough of being trapped onboard the Lusus, under the close watch of its captain. To his surprise, Tarillion had consented to his request to take the shuttle out for a flight. He’d seized the opportunity. For the past day he’d been flying the ship within the confines of the fleet, but today he dared to go further.
“I’ll alert the guardships to your impending arrival,” said Karsath. “They have standing orders to fire on any unauthorized ships entering the system.” Damron was meant to be a prison, after all.
“I’ll only be there an instant,” said Southwark. “I’m going to Senorat immediately after that, through the Damrese portal.”
“Senorat,” Karsath mused. “I haven’t been home in years.”
“I’ll return to the fleet after that, sir,” he said. “I’ve got to stay in practice. I can’t stay away from a portal for too long.”
“I understand,” said Karsath. “Proceed, commander. I expect your return to the Lusus in two subcycles.”
The line fell silent, but he knew that the admiral would always be there, so long as they were within the same solar system.
Waiting. Listening. Watching.
He throttled the shuttle forward again towards the portal, flying a few dozen feet away from the belly of a bulky hospital ship. He came so close to it that he knew alarms were sounding within the hospital ship as well as inside his own shuttle, but he allowed himself only a few seconds of breathless excitement. He peeled the shuttle away to the safety of the open space between ships.
Where did I learn to fly like that? He smiled ruefully at the thought. Clearly, Karsath—and whoever else had programmed him—thought it would be a useful skill for him to possess. He could fly any ship in the fleet. Perhaps it was so that he knew the capabilities of each ship, when he brought them through a portal.
Or maybe it’s something else. He made an elaborate, difficult, and utterly pointless loop around the nearest troop transport ship. Something about flying felt ... natural. Like breathing or singing. Maybe this is me.
He’d been fighting the restlessness and the questions that plagued him the moment he sent foot on Arkona. The Empire demanded so much of him now and gave him so little—not even a true, full name or a story about where he came from.
Still, he refused to abandon the pure idea of the Empire that sat at the center of his mind, shining with glory and righteousness. The Empire protected humanity and advanced its destiny across the galaxy. There was no greater force for peace and order. A thousand human cultures flourished under the banner of a single civilization guarded by martial law.
To think of a galaxy without the Empire was inconceivable, like a human body without a skeleton.
I serve, he thought for the millionth time, as he clenched his jaw. I serve the Empire ... as did Tadao Southwark.
The thought failed to settle his mind. Instead, it unleashed another torrent of anger and frustration. Too many evasions. If he was alive more than a thousand years ago, how could he have been my father? What was he—and what am I?
He stared ahead. The mouth of the portal was fast approaching. He knew he needed to calm himself down, but his emotions were still in turmoil. He wanted to curse aloud, but he knew that Karsath was listening.
I’ve obeyed him in everything. Shouldn’t I be able to trust him ...?
He imagined his anger and confusion as a roiling black ocean, and tried to calm the waves.
The shuttle raced towards the portal.
I’ve got to slow down. Can’t hold my center—
But before he could pull the shuttle back he hit the portal at top speed, disappearing into the darkness.
His last feeling as he crossed the portal’s boundary was a faint tingle of relief to be back inside darkspace. Here, at least, he would be alone.
Except this time, something was wrong.
Darkspace didn’t slow down and congeal around him like syrup. This time, he felt it tremble and almost give way under the force of his emotions.
The shuttle seemed to pierce the black and white shadow world, never seeming to slow down.
This hasn’t happened before—
He felt the ship slow as his rage cooled slightly, but darkspace still wasn’t normal. It slid and moved around him, erratic and dangerous.
He pictured the location of the Damrese portal, the constellation of stars around the system, the Damrese sun, the worlds in orbit around it.
There. That’s where I’m going—
The universe stabilized as he brought his fury under control. As he’d done a thousand times, he reached. The shuttle shuddered as he appeared at the Damrese portal, the twin red and black prison worlds in the distance.
What happened? He saw the red flicker of the alarms surrounding the portal lighting up at his presence. He didn’t have long to re-enter darkspace before guardships would attack.
He turned the ship around, still shaken. Hold your center.
He had to know if it would happen again. Couldn’t risk the lives of tens of thousands of soldiers with whatever had happened within the portal.
Normal space faded into dark. He reached again.
He had to be sure. He took the shuttle back through, his body tense.
This time ... Oladis.
It worked.
And now Cadero. The Caderan star shone so brightly he had to shade his eyes. The system was devastated decades ago; around some of its worlds, asteroid fields had formed from the catastrophic destruction wrought by its annexation. Still, though, there were people who refused to leave it. What kind of people come out of a system like this? He swung the shuttle around towards the portal for the last time.
His thoughts lingered on Cadero. I must have been here before, he concluded. Something about this place is important ...
But there was no time to think about it now. He had only one mandate now: to bring the Imperial fleet safely through to Ioxis. If he did his duty, then the annexation would be swift and crippling, unlike the conquest of Cadero. Billions of lives would be saved if the Ioxans were pacified quickly.
He couldn’t let his feelings control him. Whatever had happened in the portal when his emotions raged could not be tolerated.
Lords know what would happen to a fleet. He felt the deadly weight of responsibility for all those lives settle over him.
I won’t let it happen, he vowed, even as his heart pounded. I won’t lose a single ship.
All he had to do was to hold his center.
Chapter 31
“This is going to work,” she said firmly. “I swear on the Garra and Lords of the Dark and whatever gods you happen to believe in that this is going to work. Anyway, there’s no room for you onboard with all the weapons that we’re taking with us.”
Jira was lying through her teeth. Argus wasn’t buying her story, but the Oro Yurei had already quietly exited the Steadfast a full cycle ago and was powering up for the final leg of its journey to the fleet gathering point. Jira knew that if she had told Argus about her plans, he would have prevented them from leaving.