“Well, don’t you think the Empire will notice if there’s a non-human life sign onboard one of their ships?” she snapped back at his skeptical response. “Besides—I don’t think Conrad would be happy if you left the Steadfast in the hands of an Imperial officer and a Nu he’s never met. You need Jeq to keep the ship safe in Imperial territory. Conrad would want you to stay with the Steadfast. Balt and I know our way around Imperials by now, don’t we?”
Baltasar shot her a baleful look. Before he could pipe up with any objections she cut the comm line with a quick goodbye. “I’ll see you soon, Argus. Stay hidden, and stay safe.”
“I don’t know about your Garra, but you swore on the Lords,” said Baltasar. “I’m not a religious man, but you know what they say to children about lying and the Lords of the Dark—”
“Not now, Baltasar,” she said, running another check on the Oro’s fragile shields. I should’ve gotten Hogarth to boost these before we left. Not that shields are going to be much use with all the debris and collisions that go with an annexation ...
“—they say that the Lords make the opposite thing happen when you lie,” he finished. “The opposite of whatever it is you want.”
“Lucky for you I don’t believe in children’s stories,” she said. “Now, here’s the plan. We’re going to head for the closest hospital ship. They’re not as aggressive as the rest of the fleet, and it’s normal for them to be surrounded by lots of smaller ships. We should blend right in. You know what the hospital ships look like?”
Baltasar nodded reluctantly. “Good,” she continued. “We’ll stay close to them. Hopefully no one will notice us.”
“Hopefully,” he parroted. “That’s the crux of your plan?”
“Yes,” she said. “We don’t know what to expect once we’re on the other side of that portal, assuming we don’t get caught before then. The space around a hospital ship should be relatively safe. We can hunt down the Lusus from there.”
He shook his head as he took control of the piloting hologram. “You’re mad.”
“Yes, well,” she said, distracted by the open space before them. “I’ve been around you too long.”
“I’m not taking the blame for this suicidal venture,” he said as he altered the Oro’s course. “I’ve made a lot of terrible decisions since Conrad and Argus crashed into my very happy and contented life on Pac Ishi, but I’m not going to be responsible for this one.”
“Fine,” she murmured, watching the Steadfast’s signal slink away on the remote sensors. “This is all my fault.”
“My Lords, I got Jira Tai to admit that she’s at fault.”
“No one else is here to witness it. Far as I’m concerned, this conversation never even happened.”
Baltasar grunted in surrender and turned his full attention to piloting.
The Steadfast was broadcasting the commercial license that Jeq had created, its guns physically removed. It had three cycles’ worth of covert travel before it reached a branch of one of the shipping lanes that wove through the Albion system. It was to wait there for a coded transmission from the Oro once the mission was complete.
Of course, it was being held hostage. The admiral’s pet Kazhad knew of the Steadfast, and Tarillion had promised the beast that they would kill Conrad to ensure its safety.
Jira chewed on her lip. She’d made plans for all eventualities. If no transmission arrived within the week, a timed message would be delivered directly to Argus and Jeq, telling them to return to Sanctuary space. Not that she thought Argus would listen.
Hopefully the Kazhad would not punish the Steadfast if they failed.
There was good reason for the Steadfast to stay out of sight, whatever happened. The Steadfast could never have passed for a ship in the Imperial armada.
But the Oro Yurei could. Jeq had given Jira the full complement of current access codes circulating within the annexation fleet. She even had the ones needed to open a direct comm line to the captain of the Lusus.
Garra willing, we’ll survive long enough to use it.
“There it is,” said Baltasar. “You see it?”
She exhaled slowly when they saw the fleet massed in the distance. She had never seen an annexation fleet in the flesh before. They had always been abstract: numbers of ships, men, weapons. But to see the armada with her own eyes was to see the power of the Empire manifested—sheer, invincible force.
Her head buzzed with worry. A wave of dizziness almost overcame her until she realized that she’d forgotten to breathe.
“Will you look at that,” Baltasar croaked. “My Lords.”
Somewhere, in there, is Conrad. At that thought, she set her jaw. “Do you see a hospital ship?”
“Found one already. It’s towards the back. Jeq’s codes better get us through.”
She plugged in an access code and ran a scan over the fleet, counting ships and studying their positions. There was only one ship she wanted to find.
“There she is,” she said. “The Lusus is right there in the lead.”
Baltasar frowned. “That won’t be easy to get to.”
“You never know what will happen once the fight begins,” she said. “Tractor us to the hospital ship. That’s standard practice for small ships with injured crewmen, isn’t it? I’ll run a weapons check while you do that. We need to be prepared. The minute the fleet starts to move, we go with it.”
“And once we’re on the other side?”
She couldn’t tear her gaze away from the horizon, where the Lusus waited. “Pray that chaos and the Garra will be our allies today.”
The day had come. The fleet was ready.
Tarillion, however, was not.
I should’ve rigged his shuttle to explode.
Tarillion eyed the commander’s back. They were walking towards the bridge together in stony silence. He was even colder and more distant than usual. Tarillion had thought that he had achieved something by giving the boy a shuttle. Initially he had seemed surprised and disarmed by Tarillion’s gesture, but now the commander was as aloof as ever.
“What happens today?” he asked.
The commander didn’t look at him. “We annex Ioxis,” he said.
“Obviously,” he said. “But are you really going to bring the entire fleet through the portal?”
“That is my responsibility,” he replied.
“So you really are the same as Tadao Southwark, then,” he said.
The commander halted. Tarillion came alongside him, retaining his casual air.
“Yes,” he said, hesitating slightly. “That is ... correct.”
Tarillion wondered how much Karsath had told the boy about his bloodline. He couldn’t risk drawing the suspicion of the admiral now, but if there was a chance the name could trigger something inside the boy’s damaged head ...
“Tadao Southwark was a great man,” he said. “As I’ve told you before. He’s a great personal hero of mine. Your namesake?”
“I assume so.” The boy had shaken off the surprise. He was composed once again.
“Then we’re in good hands,” said Tarillion. “And I have no doubts.”
“You’re under orders from Karsath to obey any command I give you once we’re on the bridge,” said the commander, suddenly impatient. “I hope you understand this completely. So should your crew. For the duration of the annexation, the Lusus is as good as mine.”
“Of course.” His lips pressed into a thin line. “As you say ... the Lusus is at your disposal, commander.”
Commander Southwark walked faster, seemingly eager to get away from Tarillion. “Don’t forget that, Captain,” he said. “Don’t forget whom you serve.”
Tarillion tested the poison tipped blade under his sleeve as he clasped his hands behind his back.
“I would never forget that, commander.”
The cage sat in the center of the lower level of the bridge, a skeleton of shining metal. Tarillion stared at the contraption, detesting it on sight. It had been install
ed on Karsath’s orders, and Tarillion hadn’t even tried to oppose him. On a purely aesthetic level, it was almost elegant ... but he could sense the menace behind it. The cage was death incarnate.
On the other hand ... it will make one thing easier.
The cage trapped whoever was inside. He fingered the blade again.
“Will you need a direct line to the Arbiter?” he asked Southwark.
The commander approached the cage. He raised a hand and touched a silver bar; it opened like a deadly bloom. He stepped inside and the cage closed around him.
“No,” Southwark said. “That will be unnecessary.”
Tarillion gave a slight nod. The helmsman was already connected by direct comms to the web of ships waiting to enter the portal. And perhaps the commander could communicate with Karsath through the cage itself. It was built on a base of holographic projectors, after all; the projectors had to be used for something.
Lords know what else that thing is capable of. He wasn’t sure if he was contemplating the cage or Southwark when he used the word thing.
He turned his attention to the captain’s chair, which sat above and behind the cage. It would project its own set of holographic data streams from the tactical officers scattered throughout the fleet. Admiral Karsath would have the same feed. The commander would take the fleet through, Karsath would provide his directives, and Tarillion would execute those directives via orders to the rest of the fleet.
Together, the three of them would control the course of the annexation.
Tarillion sat down as he watched the cage close up around Southwark. It was too early for him to take any action against the boy. If Southwark died now, the Lusus was absolutely doomed; but in the heat of the battle, there was a small chance that the Lusus would be able to escape. If he moved fast enough. He’d asked his crew to sacrifice everything, dozens of times. The least he could do was give them a fighting chance.
The live holographic feed lit up around him. The ships were all in position; they hovered before the portal like a swarm of black insects. The lights of the ships in the vanguard dimmed. Historically, the black color of Imperial warships made them difficult to track in combat, although it was impossible to say yet exactly what kind of sensors the Ioxans possessed.
The pitch-dark shade of Imperial ships was tradition as much as it was a tactic, as was the custom of initiating battle with no external lights. For the first few minutes of the engagement, the Ioxans would only see their ships as fast-moving black shapes.
He looked to the cage when he heard the commander speaking softly under his breath to himself.
Southwark straightened. “Commence initial approach sequence, Captain,” he said. “I want the vanguard close. Are all the tractor beams functioning?”
“They are,” Tarillion said, thumbing through the data stream. The ships that gathered around the Lusus were maneuverable and brimming with weaponry, ready to attack the Ioxans’ communications networks. “All tractor beams are at full strength.”
“Acknowledged.”
Tarillion ran a tongue over his dry lips. “A question, commander. Are we really going to take so many ships through at once? Is that really possible?”
Southwark was impatient. “Of course it’s possible,” he said. “For you and the rest of the crew, Captain, it will seem to be instantaneous like all regular portal passages. As will those aboard the other ships.”
Tarillion signaled his helmsman. “You heard the commander,” he said. “Take us through.” The other ships tied to the Lusus prepared to move, turning towards the portal mouth.
The mood on the bridge was tense, but focused. Whatever Southwark did, Tarillion trusted his crew without reservation.
Maybe this won’t work, he thought, despite the feeling that they were all doomed. Maybe it’s all just smoke and mirrors. Maybe we’ll just go through this portal and land at Moruus like we should. Maybe ...
The Lusus advanced into the pure dark of the portal.
Tarillion stared at Southwark’s back. He blinked. There was a flicker, as if reality blinked along with him. He looked up at the viewscreen.
There was a planet before them.
Ioxis.
It worked, he realized with dread.
“Lords of the Dark,” he swore aloud.
The commander viewed the scene with clinical detachment. I did it, he observed. There was no warm feeling of success or victory.
The vanguard linked to the Lusus disconnected immediately, rocketing towards the planet at top speed. The process was simple and ancient: the vanguard would begin an immediate assault on the planetary comms systems, using surprise to their advantage. Meanwhile, their ship AIs ran an automatic scanning sequence that would funnel detailed navigation data for the fleet’s tacticians to compile and assess.
But for him, there was only one task that mattered.
“Turn us around, take us back through,” he directed Tarillion.
The man waited a beat too long. “Remember your orders, Captain,” he chided. “Take us back—now.”
Tarillion obeyed. The commander felt the familiar pull and stretch of darkspace as the Lusus traveled back through.
“Well done,” he heard the admiral say, the voice ringing in his head as soon as he entered real space. “Well done indeed, commander. I am quite satisfied.”
Immediately upon exiting another cohort of ships attached to the Lusus via a web of tractor beams. It was a bigger group this time; these were larger ships, heavily armed and built for a fight.
He closed his eyes for a moment as the Lusus crossed the borders of the portal. He didn’t need to think. Didn’t want to. All he had to do was to bring them through.
“We’ve reached Ioxis again,” he heard Tarillion’s helmsman say, disbelief in his voice.
“Back through once more,” he said, clearing his throat.
“Do what he says,” Tarillion’s order was quiet but firm.
For only a split second he allowed himself to indulge in a crooked smile. The captain had doubted him before—but no longer.
The remaining ships in the fleet gathered quickly around the Lusus. The Arbiter was among them, he noted. Once the admiral was there with his fleet the real attack would begin.
“Well done once more,” Karsath murmured. “Kazu would be pleased, Southwark. I will accelerate your training. Listen to me very carefully once we reach Ioxis. Now begins your education in strategy and command.”
“Understood,” he whispered, aware that the crew of the Lusus was watching him. No one knew about the implant in his ear.
He faced the portal again, feeling a faint feeling of reluctance. He was preparing to unleash death and destruction on countless combatants.
I’ll do my duty. I am not afraid to serve. He repeated the phrases to himself so many times that they were utterly meaningless.
“Again,” he said.
The Lusus surged forward, crossing the boundary for the third time.
Lingering for a long moment with darkspace, he noticed the presence of the thousands of lives traveling with him for the first time. To him, they seemed to be caught in amber, frozen and trapped, waiting for him to reanimate them in real space.
The lives felt so similar to one another, he observed. They all came from the same mold. One soldier after another.
Something suddenly sparked brightly in his mind.
What was that?
He combed through the ships with his consciousness, searching for that shining spark. There’s a life here that I ... recognize?
It was more than recognition. He couldn’t put his finger on it. He felt frustration curling at the edges of his mind. It was irritating to be unable to find it again, but the pressure on him was becoming unbearable. He had to enter real space again.
With a feeling of stretched-out reluctance he let it slip, real space coalescing around him in a rush. He was surrounded by crewmen talking, the sound of reports coming in and the voice of the captain behind him, but t
he commander could focus on none of it.
What was that?
Chapter 32
It was all going terribly well.
The reports were scrolling before him and he was being forced to absorb it at lightning speed. Tarillion barely had enough presence of mind to reflect on the overall state of affairs. Flowing through the curtain of holographic data he could see the larger diagram of the battles igniting around the planet Ioxa as the Imperial ships engaged the natives.
From the way that the Ioxan ships scattered he deduced that they were in a state of panic.
The poor buggers.
“The vanguard’s destroyed what appears to be the network linking the Ioxans to their planetary installations,” said Lieutenant Armas, Jeq’s replacement. “So far as we can tell they don’t have any back-up systems in place. That’s good for us, sir.”
“Keep your eye on the ship. Leave the fleet to me. We can’t afford to let ourselves get cocky,” he muttered, the last statement more to himself than to anyone else. “I’m dispatching five dreadnoughts to do a follow-up sweep for comms systems. If we can orphan every single Ioxan ship up here, that’ll speed up this fight. But as for you, lieutenant, your sole responsibility is the Lusus.”
Of course, it was always possible that there were other forms of communication that the Empire hadn’t yet encountered, but Tarillion doubted it. If they encountered something new, it would be overwhelmed by sheer force soon enough.
He watched Ioxan ships appear on the displays from the far side of the planet. As far as the Ioxans knew, they were the greatest military power in the universe—until today. Tarillion’s lip twisted at that. He imagined how shocked the Ioxan leadership must be at this onslaught. A massive fleet had just appeared on their doorstep, guns blazing.
The annexation was proceeding exactly as it should. Which, unfortunately, meant that he could delay no longer.
Now’s the time. He narrowed his eyes, looking through the holographic reports to the straight, stiff figure of the young man trapped within the cage. Lords forgive me.
He sent the order for another cohort of dreadnoughts forward to engage with the approaching Ioxan ships, with instructions to deploy their one-man fighters at their captains’ discretion.
Sanctuary's Gambit: The Darkspace Saga Book 2 Page 21