He turned over as the sound of the platform splitting sent a stab of fear through his gut.
Argus leaped through the hole to the sound of crumbling stone. Jira’s arms were wrapped tight around his neck, her legs clinging to his back. Baltasar swung from his jaws.
A rush of relief surged through Conrad. He struggled to his feet, his knuckles and face cut and bloody.
“Argus, you old—” he began to say. But there wasn’t enough time to take more than a breath. The lights above them were blinking, and one by one they began to go out.
“They know we’re here,” Jira said, her arms still clutched tight around Argus as she swung her feet down. “We’re almost there. We’ve got to run—now!”
All Conrad could hear was the echo of their footsteps.
The overhead lights were gone, but he’d saved a light from the guard they’d brought down in the archives. He took the lead now, shining it ahead of them as he ran. There were sounds of people scattering away as they ran—the workers, getting out of the line of fire—or so Conrad hoped.
“Where are we going?” he heard Jira call from behind him. “Where’s the dark-damned exit?”
“I don’t know,” he shouted over his shoulder. “I’m just getting us as far away from that panel as I can—that’s where they’ll try to find us!”
“Throw me the light!” she hissed. “I’ll take us to the door!”
He tossed the light at her, pausing only until he heard it land in her hands. She bolted ahead, her braid flying behind her.
She veered suddenly to the right and Conrad followed her.
Lights came from behind them, and he saw them shine onto Jira’s back.
Those may as well be targets, he realized. He tightened his fingers on his gun.
The first blast shot past them. His heart raced.
The guards were getting closer. He ducked behind a shelf, letting Argus and Baltasar run past. He aimed his gun in the direction of the lights and fired five consecutive shots in a horizontal line. It was the best chance they had to bring down a few of them.
Two of the lights dropped and rolled on the ground.
Two down. No telling how many were still hunting them.
He sprinted after Baltasar, following the faint light ahead that was Jira. He forced himself to run faster, his muscles burning. He was the one who had to get them through the final door.
He saw her light slow down. She’s at the door!
There was a sudden burst of fire, so bright he lost sight of Jira, Argus, and Baltasar.
He grabbed the nearest shelf and threw his weight against it, gritting his teeth as he forced it down. It crashed across the path behind them.
The firing continued. A few shots ricocheted off the fallen shelf. Conrad dove down to avoid shots that arced over it. He glanced toward the door. Argus was bounding back toward him, a fast-moving shadow in the darkness.
“What are you doing?” he shouted in Kazhad, his voice hoarse. “Go back!”
Argus leaped past him, crashing into another shelf. It fell on top of the first shelf. “One more,” he growled in passing to Conrad.
Argus rounded past him and crawled to another shelf. It toppled easily. Conrad glanced at their makeshift barricade for only a moment before hauling himself up and running for the door. He could hear the reassuring sound of Argus’s paws behind him.
Jira was waiting, pointing the light at her feet as they drew near. This time he could see the panel—there was no ornamentation on the walls at this level of the palace.
He placed his hand on the panel. The pinprick, and then—
Shots were fired. The light was blinding.
Conrad heard roaring before he smelled ozone in the air and the sickening odor of burning fur and flesh.
The wound was dark red with charred black edges, a vicious slash across Argus’s shoulder and chest. He struggled to come to all fours and groaned in pain. The shot had rendered his front right paw nearly useless.
The guards were getting closer. Conrad grabbed Argus and heaved the Kazhad’s weight onto his shoulder, wincing at the burden as they advanced into the tunnel. “Balt!” he called. The medic-mechanic glanced nervously at the approaching horde of guards but lifted the other half of Argus’s weight onto his shoulders.
“Leave,” Argus growled.
“That’s what we’re trying to do,” Conrad said through gritted teeth.
They ducked as another barrage of fire shot out over their heads. “They’re at the barricade,” Conrad shouted. “Jira!”
She’d reached the end of the tunnel. She climbed up.
A chill ran through Conrad as he realized she could simply abandon them. She had no need of his bloodprint now that they were out of the palace. If she ran, they would be dead.
“C’mon, Argus,” Conrad gasped, the Kazhad’s weight grinding him down.
“Leave me,” he repeated. “Promise you’ll leave me—”
“You’re going on a diet when we get home,” Conrad croaked. “That’s the only promise I’m making.”
He made eye contact with Balt. He was limping.
“Not yet,” Conrad rasped. “Not yet, not yet, not yet…”
But he could already feel himself slowing down, even as they neared the tunnel’s exit. He stared down at his feet. One more step. One more…
“Down!” he heard a woman’s voice call, somewhere off in the distance ahead.
It was Jira.
Conrad let his legs and feet give way, falling to his knees. He braced Argus, throwing an arm over the back of his furry neck.
A boom sounded above them. Conrad looked up and saw something flying through the air, almost too fast for human eyes. It shifted and moved like a swarm of bees.
He got to his feet and surged forward, Argus growling with pain.
“We’ve got twenty seconds,” she gasped as she ducked, swinging her torso down into the tunnel. She reached down toward them.
Conrad heaved Argus up. Jira grabbed Argus by the scruff of his neck with both hands and pulled up. He bleated with displeasure.
“Sorry, kit,” she puffed. “Just a few more inches—”
Conrad groaned as he and Baltasar pushed Argus up toward her. “Diet,” he gasped. “Mark. My. Words.”
Argus’s heavy bulk disappeared into the tunnel entrance. There was no time to pause. Baltasar climbed up as Conrad gripped the small ladder, every muscle in his body rubbery and useless.
He felt salt stinging in his eyes. Conrad summoned the last reserves of his strength and hauled himself up, his hands slipping with sweat and blood.
In the next moment, a fiery explosion erupted through the tunnel.
Chapter 22
Jira stood with her feet firmly planted on the aircar, which hovered a meter above the ground. It was a small, lightweight vehicle, its top half partially exposed to the elements, clearly meant for short range flights in atmosphere.
“Where the hell did you find that?” he shouted as he staggered toward it.
Baltasar held out a hand to Conrad, pulling him aboard. The vehicle tilted with his additional weight, causing him to fall against Baltasar and Argus.
“Keep it steady there,” Jira called out. “Where’s your ship?”
“I’ll fly,” Conrad said, reaching for the controls. “It’s not far from here.”
Jira stepped aside and braced herself against the side of the aircar, which rocked suddenly. There were guards on the wall of the palace, aiming their guns at them.
“Get out of sight,” Jira shouted to him. “They’ll keep firing at this height. Drop the ship low and get between the buildings!”
“You think that’ll stop them?” Conrad said.
“No,” Jira said. “But if we can shake them even for a few seconds, we have a chance of getting to your ship before they shoot us all down.”
The ship dipped down abruptly and Baltasar grabbed at the flimsy railing. Argus made a retching sound. “Bad time to be sick, buddy,” Conra
d said to him, as Jira patted his back. “You all right for the moment?
Argus rumbled in the affirmative. Conrad looked back to Jira, a question in his gaze.
“A small gift from the Federation,” she said. “Before I was sent here my people concealed aircars and weapons around the city. All coded to my command.” She touched one of her teardrop earrings.
“I knew I’d need it to escape,” she continued. “But I didn’t expect to have company.” She smiled at him. It was a tiny little quirk of the lips, but it was the first genuine smile she’d given him.
It gave him an unexpected jolt of energy.
Another shot hit the side of the aircraft, its force knocking them further down and to the left. The bottom of the craft plowed through the top of a market, sending people screaming through the streets.
“A little help,” Conrad shouted, “would be appreciated!”
Baltasar grabbed his gun and aimed behind the aircar, but their flight pattern was so fast and irregular it was impossible to take aim. Jira kneeled for a moment, then stood up with her hands full of what appeared to be shards of black metal, which she flung over the back of the aircar.
The black shards coalesced into a small, airborne cloud—exactly what he had seen in the tunnel. As the aircar tore away the cloud flew in the opposite direction. A boom went off in the distance.
Argus bellowed.
“It didn’t hit the market, did it?” Conrad asked.
Jira looked surprised, as if startled by the question. “No,” she said. “I programmed it to detonate only at the site of live fire. It should have homed in on the guards’ guns.”
He nodded. The last thing he wanted was innocent blood on his hands, even if they were citizens of the Empire.
“We’re almost there,” said Conrad. “Hang on tight.”
Baltasar’s toes tapped impatiently as the building cycled through its ships, searching for the container in which the Oro Yurei was stored.
At long last the familiar points and curves of the ship appeared, rising to the top of the platform.
“This is your ship?” Jira said, sounding impressed for the first time.
“It’s on loan from the Fleet,” Conrad responded. “Permanently.”
They boarded the Oro as quickly as they could, abandoning Jira’s small car behind them. She destroyed it with another fistful of black shards.
Baltasar darted to the cockpit, with Argus limping after him. Conrad knew it would be difficult to dissuade him from joining in the fray.
“Weapons?” Jira asked simply. Conrad shook his head. “I suppose this ship was never meant for a fight,” she said. “Can you give me access to its AI?”
They moved toward the cockpit as the ship began to thrum. Conrad lay a hand on Argus’s shoulder. “Argus?” he said. “That wound of yours—”
“The blast cauterized it,” he growled, but there was no hiding the exhaustion in his voice. His ears drooped.
“Get out of the chair,” Conrad ordered. “I’m older than you. And Garrity put me in charge. I’m flying this thing.”
The Kazhad reluctantly stood, fitting himself behind the front seats in the cockpit. Conrad swung into the empty seat, pulling up the hologram of the Oro Yurei.
“The AI?” Jira said from behind them.
“What do you need access to the AI for?” Baltasar asked as the ship began to retract its landing gear. “We’re about to get out of here. Straight into space and straight to the portal. Far as I can tell the registration I faked for this ship still works.”
“That’s what you think,” she said calmly. “We didn’t exactly have a clean exit path, and chances are they’re already minutes away from this location.” Jira fished the datapiece out of her bodice, holding it between two fingers. “But this might change the odds.”
“Put it in already, woman!”
Jira slid the datapiece into a small port on the overhead instrument panel. Conrad pulled up the hologram of the Oro, easing the ship up into the skies above the Imperial city.
She was right, Conrad realized as the ship registered weapons discharging from the platform they’d just escaped. “What am I looking for?” he asked.
“They’ll be sending the guard squadron after us, I’ll wager,” she said. “Time for some fancy flying, princeling.”
Right again, he thought as he saw the images of small fighters appearing at the edge of his hologram.
“I’ll stay down in the city,” he said. “They won’t shoot at their own buildings, will they?”
Jira frowned. “Don’t count on it,” she said. “Fly high. We’ll never get close to the regular paths to the portal. I’m trying to find us a shortcut.” She looked back down at the screen above the data port.
A shot shook the ship. Baltasar grunted with dismay. “What I wouldn’t do for a decent weapons array right now,” he muttered.
Under Conrad’s steady hand the Oro made a sharp dive into the valley between the city towers, banking quickly and diving unexpectedly. He lifted his hands and the ship shot up into the night sky, the blasts from the pursuing guard ships surrounding the Oro like fireworks.
The guard fighters were getting clever. They divided in an attempt to conquer, half their ships looping around the city, lying in wait for the ambush.
Conrad inhaled sharply when he saw four guard fighters rise up from below them. He swept the Oro up and back once more.
“Jira,” he said. “I need something. Now!”
Suddenly, a fresh string of data appeared on the screen beneath the hologram. “There,” she said. “It’s a flight path that gets us to the portal from behind.”
“That won’t work! There’s only one way to enter a portal!”
“You’ll have to loop around, but it’s the only way,” she insisted.
“Ah, hell,” he groaned as he input the coordinates. He could still waver from the course to avoid the fighters, but if their pursuers guessed where they were headed, they’d be doomed.
“More fancy flying it is,” he said, and lifted his hands, raising the ship into the stratosphere.
The ship rocketed up toward the portal, evading the orbital patrols. They’d flown into the mass of ships lingering near the portal, waiting to enter or just exiting. The Oro Yurei flew between ships and behind larger ones, never stopping and never slowing down.
The guard ships from the planet’s surface chased them relentlessly, drawing ever closer. The Oro was faster than a fighter, but not by much.
Conrad felt a bead of sweat trickle down his face. If they were going to live, he couldn’t make a single mistake.
The portal was in sight, but two guard fighters were flanking them and building up speed. He maneuvered the Oro between stationary ships, but the fighters were persistent, sticking close to their target and inching closer with every minute.
“Faster,” he heard Baltasar say next to him, his voice tight.
“They’re shooting to stun,” Jira said, her hand gripping the cockpit bulkhead. “They want us alive.”
Conrad ground his teeth, the pressure pulsing through his skull. If they were captured by the Empire again, he doubted they’d make it out alive.
He eyed the approaching fighter ships.
“Conrad,” Argus spoke up, his voice weak. Conrad could feel the Kazhad breathing heavily at his shoulder. “The old thruster trick. The one we used to do at the Academy.”
“What trick?” Baltasar demanded. “What are you planning to do to her?”
Conrad stared through the cockpit windows, the tension in his shoulders and back spreading through his body. “I’m disengaging from the hologram,” he said. “Balt—you take the hologram. Keep her trajectory going toward the portal. I’m taking control of propulsion.”
“They’re shooting at me!”
“Ignore them,” Conrad ordered. It felt strange but strangely right to be in command. “The ship will stay in one piece until we get to the portal, and they’re still shooting to stun. Focus.”
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He quickly typed in a command into the ship console, bringing up the propulsion controls. They were simple, glowing white tracks on a black screen. He placed two fingertips on the controls that guided the short range thrusters, which were usually only used for short surges of power when changing direction during flight.
“Here goes nothing,” he muttered.
He pulsed the thrusters, testing their tolerance levels. The ship lurched slightly, back and forth. The Oro’s controls were stronger and smoother than the shaky fighter he’d learned this trick with. He calibrated the controls again. And pulsed the thrusters for longer intervals. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon…”
The ship began to pick up speed. He let go of the short range thruster controls.
Now.
He began to increase the overall velocity of the ship. There wasn’t much speed to play with; the Oro was already flying close to its limit. He slid the control up smoothly, the ship spasming slightly as the fighters’ shots made impact.
The guard ships were close.
He could sense Baltasar’s nervousness, but Conrad pushed on. They were hurtling toward the portal at a treacherous speed.
Conrad reached for the short range thrusters.
“Are you crazy?” Jira hissed. “You can’t fire those at this speed.”
“It’s our only shot to get to the portal before they bring us down,” he snapped.
He began to pulse the thrusters, the ship jolting forward with each thrust. Conrad looked up. The yawning maw of the portal grew wider with every second.
He tensed, and pushed the thrusters harder.
So close… so close… and there.
The Oro Yurei disappeared into the portal.
His heart was still hammering as time slowed down once more inside the portal. The walls of the portal seemed to close in on him this time, as if sensing the fear and adrenaline coursing through his system.
It’s attacking me, Conrad thought. His pulse accelerated.
In a panic, he reached.
Drowning in dread, his mind caught onto something familiar. Someplace he had been before.
He lunged for it. He clung to it with every cell in his body.
Sanctuary's Soldier: The Darkspace Saga Book 1 Page 14