“Look at ’em run!” Arro said. “With their tails between their legs…”
Conrad felt his heartbeat slow slightly. Arro was feeling even more confident. He swooped the Blackbird ahead of the Oro Yurei, as if daring more fighters to come toward him.
But then something caught his gaze.
There was an almost invisible glint at the Sun’s starboard stern. He narrowed his eyes.
What the hell is that?
It was quick. Too quick to retreat when they saw them.
The black shapes of Imperial fighters burst out toward them, like bats swarming from their nest.
Conrad struggled to halt the Oro Yurei as Argus bellowed next to him and Jira gasped with horror.
“Where did they come from?” Baltasar said, shock and fear in his voice.
“Bring her around!” Conrad shouted over the comms. “Arro—bring her around!”
But the jet-black fighters were attacking the Blackbird, shooting guns and missiles relentlessly at the embattled mining ship.
The Blackbird could take more impact than the average ship, but it was obvious that the miner’s armor was not invincible, especially in close quarters combat.
“Fire everything we’ve got,” Conrad ordered.
Argus took aim and fired at the mass of black ships. “I see one, maybe two ships damaged,” Jira announced.
It wasn’t even close to being enough.
The Blackbird was faltering. It staggered under the sheer force of the onslaught. There were small points of glowing metal on the hull where the fighters had pulsed their weapons, over and over.
They know how to take down a ship like this. Two thousand years of conquest… they know how to destroy any ship on the field. Conrad felt a flash of anger and guilt. I shouldn’t have let the old man come out here.
“Arro,” he shouted urgently into the comms. “You there? C’mon, old man. Come back toward us. Disengage. You hear me?”
Even as he uttered the words he knew it was a desperate gamble. There was no response.
He opened the comms line to the Blackbird and tried again.
“Arro,” he said. “You can still disengage.”
“Ah, you know we can’t,” the captain said, laughing humorlessly. “I’m a bit busy here, son.”
“Don’t—”
“You sound a bit young to be tellin’ me what I can and can’t do,” Arro said. “If you have to do somethin’ then do this, son. Send this message home to my wife. And my girl Neves if you ever meet her. Tell ’em I had no regrets. Tell ’em I did this for them. You don’t have to tell ’em I love ’em. They know.” Arro paused. “See you on the other side,” he finally said, and turned off the comms connection.
“Arro,” Conrad shouted, fighting the urge to slam his fist down on the console with frustration. “Come back!”
Deep red fissures appeared on the hull of the Blackbird for the first time.
“There’s no coming back,” Jira said softly, behind him. Her voice was gentle. “Conrad…”
Argus howled. Arro pushed forward, the heavy ship’s flight pattern becoming more and more irregular. Degrading.
“Pull back,” Argus rumbled. “Conrad—he’s doing this as a distraction. For us. Fly us out!”
Jolted out of his speechless fury by the Kazhad’s familiar voice, Conrad seized hold of the Oro Yurei’s piloting hologram again and kicked it into overdrive. The ship flew past the fighters covering the Blackbird, Argus deterring them from following with a few well-aimed shots from their guns.
Conrad clenched his jaw and swung the ship back around.
“What are you doing?” Jira exclaimed.
“I’m going back in,” Conrad snapped. “I’m not leaving the Blackbird—”
Jira opened her lips to argue but fell suddenly silent.
The dreaded jolt of a tractor beam had stopped the Oro Yurei dead in its tracks.
Conrad’s hands passed through the piloting hologram uselessly. He punched the console with futile rage. “What the hell is going on?”
Jira lunged between him and Argus, first looking through the cockpit window and then checking ship sensors.
“It’s got an Imperial signature,” she said anxiously.
“There’s not a single Imperial ship on this side of the battlefield big enough to hold us,” Baltasar said. “The destroyers weren’t even close to breaking through to our location. Check again.”
Jira’s hands moved with incredible speed over the instrument display. “I’m calibrating sensors to find the tractor beam and track back on its signature,” she said. The outline of a sleek Imperial ship appeared as an image on the commscreen.
It was the Secace.
Conrad cursed in every language he knew.
Of course it had to be that damned ship. Of course.
“How did it get so far out here?” he demanded.
“Must have slipped through somehow,” Baltasar said.
“They have a simple cloaking technique,” Jira said. “Their ships are black—and then they conceal the ship with a shield that hides any light it emits. Sensors might catch a ship like that if they knew what to look for. But the basic combat holos use light emissions. They must have pulled out of sight and then cloaked. Lords willing, there aren’t any other cloaked ships out there.” She switched off the image of the Secace and returned the display to showing the larger battle.
“Can we break the tractor beam?” Conrad asked.
“Not unless you’ve got another mining ship out here able to ram the life force out of the Secace,” Baltasar replied.
Damn. Conrad stared into the darkness outside, running through the possibilities in his mind.
Frozen in the tractor beam, they watched the Florian Sun and the Blackbird begin to shrink from the cockpit window as the Secace pulled them away.
The dogfights continued to rage around the massive Federation ship, small bursts of light and fire marking the deaths of pilots from both sides. The Sun was holding its own, but it seemed that the Imperials had an endless supply of fighters ready to take the place of any the Federation destroyed.
Conrad switched his focus to the display showing the rest of the battlefield. One of the Caderan frigates was nowhere on the display—it must have been destroyed. His jaw flexed as he studied the hologram. The Federation cruisers were still alive and fighting, but had fallen back from their initial position. More and more Imperial fighters were streaming through, and they were aiming for the Sun and the Verdant.
They were running out of time.
He heard Jira gasp and looked up.
They could still see the ball of fighters surrounding the Blackbird. Suddenly, the fighters scattered.
The mining ship seemed to float there. It looked almost peaceful.
Conrad tried the comms one last time. “Arro,” he shouted. “Are you—”
The Blackbird exploded, a red-yellow internal fire expanding out and then disappearing. Pieces of the ship’s dense hull spun away at high velocity. The cloud of debris from the disintegrated ship hung silently in space, as if Arro and the Blackbird had never really existed at all.
Conrad controlled his rage through pure force of will.
There’s no time. But this won’t go unanswered…
Jira laid a soft hand on his shoulder. She’d seen him and Arro talking and laughing together on board the trawler and the Verdant.
Conrad touched her hand briefly before he stood up.
Argus checked the sensors. “Five minutes until we reach the Secace,” he reported. "One cycle left until the data upload is complete.”
“Did we give the Verdant enough time?” Conrad asked.
Jira didn’t hesitate. She opened the comms one last time, searching for the right one.
There was a blast of static. “Eight-seven percent complete,” he heard Ilm say in a hoarse voice. “Keep them away for just a little longer. After that we’ll initiate the self-destruct sequence.”
A look of horror
crossed Jira’s face. “Ada,” she said into the comms, no doubt cutting into Ilm’s communications with his captains. “No. You can’t.”
There was another burst of static. Ilm had closed down the line to just him and the Oro Yurei. “Jira, is that you?” Ilm croaked. “You’re still alive?”
Jira glanced at Conrad before responding. “Yes,” she said. “And you—there’s still time—”
“My darling, if there were any other way, I’d take it. But this is the moment we’ve all prepared for.”
“Promise me you’ll try,” she insisted.
“You know the protocol as well as I do,” he said. “Besides. I’m giving you a direct order. Get yourself away from here. You’re a living data store, my Jira, and the Federation needs you.”
“And you,” she insisted, anguished. “Ada…”
“I’ll escape if I can,” he promised. “And now, darling—go fight the good fight.”
The comms went silent.
First Arro, now Ilm, Conrad thought. We’re on our own now.
“We need a plan,” he said, his voice steady and calm. He could feel the anger glowing in his chest, but ignored it. “For when we’re on board the Secace.”
He looked around him. Argus, steadfast as ever, showed no fear. Jira chewed her lip, but met his gaze and nodded. Baltasar looked like he was halfway between panic and resignation.
“I never should have pulled you out of that wreck on Pac Ishi,” he muttered. “Should have waited and just gone in for the scrap a day later.”
“Don’t worry, I may still end up a carcass before this is all over,” Conrad said.
“It’s not your carcass I want,” Baltasar said. “It’s just that I’d prefer to not be a carcass myself.”
“Then let’s get to work,” he replied. “Jira—what happens to us when we get taken on board?”
She folded her arms and looked through the cockpit window at the remains of the Blackbird. “First, they’ll neutralize us all before they take us out of this ship. Argus will be killed by lasgun if they’re feeling merciful, or by hunting knife if they’re not. Baltasar could be shot on sight for desertion, or sent to a penal colony. I’ll be sent back to the palace to do my duty. Under guard.” She didn’t bother to hide the look of revulsion that passed over her.
“As for you,” she said, studying Conrad, “I have no idea. Skin you alive, drain your blood, make you the next Emperor…” She shook her head. “They’ll want to question you, at least. Under the influence of memory relaxers.”
“Let’s hope they do the questioning before the skinning and draining,” he said, undaunted.
Conrad could feel his muscles tightening, readying for action. Except that they would be paralyzed the minute the Imperials forced their way onto the ship. There would be no point in arming themselves—the Imperials wouldn’t give them a chance to fight.
It doesn’t matter. He stood up even straighter. Grim determination settled in.
It was time to face Heik again.
Chapter 31
There’s that damn shadow.
Conrad was lying flat on his back, and that same shadow was standing near him like it was ready to slit his throat at any moment. He was restrained, like he had been the last time he’d been aboard the Secace, and his head ached.
The last thing he remembered was the flash of light that heralded the Imperials’ arrival, and hitting the deck hard before fading to black. Neutralized, as Jira had put it.
Slowly, his eyes started to focus, and Conrad coughed. His mouth was dry and his head was swimming. Everything seemed to ache.
He wondered how long it had been since they’d been caught by the tractor beam. If the battle was still raging.
“His highness is awake,” observed a cold, familiar voice.
Conrad licked his cracked lips. He was dehydrated and exhausted, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself.
“His highness could use a shot of whiskey,” he rasped.
“Deepest apologies,” Heik’s toneless voice said. “But there are more pressing matters at hand.”
A brilliant white light burned into Conrad’s eyes. By instinct he tried to close his eyes, but everything moved slowly. With effort he was able to blink, but he could still feel the light burning into his retinas.
He stared at Heik. The sharp lines of the man’s face and body came into focus. There was a faint, crooked smile on the captain’s lips. He looked perfectly composed. His uniform fit him like a second skin, and there was no trace of exhaustion or tiredness in his eyes, no hint that he had been commanding an armada of warships for days. If anything, the man looked invigorated.
“Most of your non-essential bodily functions have been deactivated,” Heik said casually. “You can breathe, speak, swallow… and not much else. I’ve always prided myself on not wasting time and unnecessary effort, you see. The memory relaxers will activate soon. And forget trying to use your bloodprint, your highness. The Secace won’t recognize your bloodprint anymore.”
Conrad tested his limbs. They refused to move, and felt as heavy as lead. Then he felt the needles piercing his temples.
Maybe it’s a good thing I can’t move.
Heik leaned down over him. “Here we are again, as if no time has passed at all,” he said. He sounded as if he were sitting down to dinner with an old friend. “Now we can become much better acquainted, your highness.”
Conrad forced a grin. It was hard to get his muscles to cooperate, but he told himself it was worth it—anything to see the smug grin fade from Heik’s narrow face.
“Sure,” he croaked. “One question…”
Heik looked displeased, as if he hadn’t expected Conrad to do anything but beg for his life.
“Is vomiting a non-essential bodily function?”
Heik stepped back quickly and Conrad enjoyed a brief moment of triumph.
“Enough time wasted,” Heik snapped. “It’s time for you to answer some very important questions. First of all—how long have you been a part of the Federation?”
Conrad coughed, feeling the bile at the back of his throat. God, I wish I could vomit on this piece of…
Suddenly, a burst of pain took his breath away.
The pain coursed over Conrad’s skin like a wave of burning fire. He tried to struggle, to writhe, anything to escape the pain, but his body stayed perfectly still.
He opened his mouth to scream.
That, at least, was allowed.
In the middle of his agony he thought he heard another voice echoing his own. It was deeper, louder, and as his mind recognized it his heart began to hammer even faster.
Argus.
As suddenly as it came on, the pain stopped. Argus continued to howl for another long minute before dropping into a low-pitched growl.
Conrad stared at the light helplessly. The platform to which he was tied began to move, tipping down until he was almost standing.
Heik moved the bright light out of his eyes. The relief was temporary. The captain shined it directly in front of Conrad. His eyes throbbed as his vision adjusted.
Argus was there, restrained and tied to a similar platform. There was a single needle piercing the side of his head. White-tipped sensors were attached to his skin, over every inch of his body. Where they touched the fur was burned away, the sensors sunk deep into his flesh.
“Your pet here is to blame for the pain you feel,” Heik said, calmly. “You are to be brought back to Albion Prime undamaged—those were my orders. You and that pretty little third-rank concubine who has been making life so… interesting for her lords. And I mean to obey my orders. But animals like this one—” he waved at Argus—“I am free to dispose of as I wish.”
Heik folded his hands behind him. “Even an animal as ugly as this one has its uses. I will not damage or injure you, per the orders from my superiors… but I can take your pet apart, hair by hair, molecule by molecule. What you felt was only the most basic level of nerve damage we can inflict. The next level will
scar his nerve tissue for the rest of his very short life. And then we move on to the removal of his teeth, one by one, each of his eyes, and so on. And of course you will feel the pain without receiving actual physical injury.” Heik’s voice was calm and conversational again.
“A week or so,” Conrad wheezed. “I’ve been part of the Federation for about a week.”
Heik’s eyes narrowed. “Lies, Conrad Redeker. Lies lead to pain.”
A flash of pain coursed over his skin. The feeling only lasted a second for him, but Argus was still howling.
“Stop,” Conrad half-shouted. “You don’t need to do this to him. I’m telling you the truth. You’ve got to know I’m not lying.”
Heik inclined his head slightly, consulting an attendant who was out of view. He was reviewing biometric data indicating whether or not Conrad was telling the truth. Heik turned back to Conrad. “A week,” he said, still disbelieving.
Conrad refused to say more. Heik made a gesture and Argus’s howling dropped to a low, urgent rattle. It was a sound Argus made when he was in enormous pain.
“A new question, then. Where do you come from?” Heik asked.
Conrad thought quickly—as quickly as his sluggish mind would let him. He had to tell the truth without being precise. “Nowhere,” he said. “As far as I know. I was an orphan.”
“An orphan?” Heik’s voice was incredulous. “A child of the Satori line would have been entered into the archives immediately upon birth.”
“I’m not Satori,” Conrad said, feeling a flicker of conflict at the words. “I’m not lying. Fact of the matter is, I’ve got no reason to lie. You tell me what you want to know and I’ll tell it. You can let him go.” Conrad indicated Argus with a blink of his eyes.
“And for my part,” Heik said, “I too promise you, Conrad Redeker, that I am no liar. I will tell you the truth, even if it is… painful.” He smiled slightly at that. “The Federation Fleet at Baro II is no more. Your heroics came to nothing. All Federation ships were destroyed—although you made our objective easier for us by flying out into battle straight into the path of my ship. After we caught you, it was a simple matter of destroying the flagship.”
Sanctuary's Soldier: The Darkspace Saga Book 1 Page 20