He didn’t ask the Nu more questions. He had a feeling it would be futile. Instead, Conrad looked back out at the stars.
“We will protect you, when the time comes,” she said, turning to walk away.
“When what time comes?” he asked.
But she was already gone. There was so much more he wanted to know from the Nu—but they revealed their secrets according to their own agenda.
He wondered which one of them was his mother. Perhaps it didn’t matter, for hive creatures like them.
Am I even human? The Nu were physically human, as far as he could tell, perhaps due to generations of human fathers.
And then there’s that Satori connection. It was one more mystery among many.
He returned to gazing out into the darkness. Somewhere in the distance was Sanctuary. He knew where it was by instinct. It was a white speck, seemingly a bright star in the field of black behind Mars.
That’s the only thing that hasn’t changed, he realized. Sanctuary. He thought about his childhood, his upbringing by the Corps, and Rose. Sanctuary and the Corps had saved him, given him a life and sense of belonging.
Now, Sanctuary was in greater danger than the High Council could ever imagine.
It was sobering to think he held the key to its salvation.
It was the only thing that was clear: His purpose was to defend Sanctuary.
At all costs.
Chapter 36
Conrad smiled to himself when he received the coded message on the Corps comm line. The PSS Redeker was waiting in orbit around Sanctuary. After all her years in the service, the Redeker was still Garrity’s favorite ship, and Conrad had no doubts about who was waiting for him.
The old battleaxe came for me personally. I wonder how big the Redeker’s brig is, and what she’ll do to me for crashing the La Paz.
Still, he couldn’t suppress the feeling of relief that washed over him at the thought of seeing Garrity again.
And Rose is down there somewhere. The sense of relief disappeared, replaced by a feeling Conrad couldn’t identify.
He focused on the pale blue dot ahead. There was no planet quite so beautiful as Sanctuary, he decided. Still beautiful, despite the fact that humanity had been torching the planet—and each other—for the past few centuries. The ExMach war had brought the human race to the edge of extinction, but mankind had overcome the devastation.
It had taken decades to rebuild. And then the portals had pushed the frontiers of human civilization even further, and brought countless alien species into the growing polity named Sanctuary.
But no matter how far humans journeyed, it all came back to Earth. Or so he had once believed.
Conrad thought of the Locc, the Nu, and the sprawling, vicious Empire on the other side of the galaxy. He thought of the innumerable worlds filled with humans and aliens with hundreds and thousands of years of history. How did they fit into this? Was their story entwined with Sanctuary’s?
He mulled over what Ilm had revealed. The Satori was a class nine colony ship. Ilm had believed the Satori originated from that very same ship, and that ship came from Earth.
Yet there was more than two thousand years of recorded history for the Satori Empire.
How is that possible?
Conrad leaned back in his seat. It was a story so outlandish that he doubted Corps Intelligence would believe him, even though he was bringing the Oro Yurei to them as proof.
Well, at least I’ve got Argus to vouch for me. Command might think I’m an ass, but no one is going to disbelieve him.
He decided was going to relish being debriefed, for once, if only to enjoy his interrogators’ response.
And then there’s Jira…
She seemed to have a sixth sense about when he was thinking of her. He turned his head and saw her slip into the copilot’s seat. She was dressed in her vaguely military Federation fatigues, her hair in thick, neat braids.
“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked.
“Argus and Baltasar both snore,” she said with a faint smile. “I thought I’d come and keep you awake so you don’t crash the ship into an asteroid.”
“I can fly this thing with my eyes closed.”
“I suppose you could, but I’d rather you not. I didn’t survive the Imperial palace and three battles to die because you decided to take a nap.”
Conrad turned back to the view through the cockpit window. “And miss this? Nah. This is my favorite part.”
“Favorite part?”
“The approach to Sanctuary,” he said. “Watching that spot of light grow from a dot into a planet. Pure magic.”
“There’s no such thing as magic,” she said.
“Speak for yourself,” he said, giving her a lopsided grin.
“You really believe that?” She sounded surprised.
“Sure, there’s magic in the universe,” he said. “How do you explain all the weird stuff that’s happened to us? And the fact that we’re all still alive?”
Jira folded her arms. “Sheer dumb luck,” she said. “The laws of physics are absolute. Magic is impossible,” she said firmly.
“You say that now,” Conrad said. “Maybe I would’ve agreed with you a month ago. But now I know we live in a stranger universe than I could ever imagine. Wait and see.”
The four of them were gathered together, waiting. Sanctuary shone bright and blue through the cockpit window, illuminating the interior of the cockpit.
They were silent as the PSS Redeker came into view, sunlight gleaming on its hull. According to Corps tradition, orphans were always named after the ship that rescued them. It was a promise to those children—that they were the sacred responsibility of the Corps. Wherever he had come from, Sanctuary and the Corps had taken him in. Conrad had only glimpsed the ship a few times since he was a child, but it was reassuring to see the Redeker again.
“A good-looking ship,” Baltasar conceded.
“For not being Caderan, anyway,” Jira added.
Argus grunted at Jira and Conrad grinned. Argus didn’t take kindly to rude words about Protectorate ships, especially that particular ship.
“What’s the planet like?” Jira asked, captivated by the blue globe ahead. “Lots of oceans. White clouds. Looks like paradise.”
“Closest thing to it,” Conrad agreed.
He thought of how much had changed since he and Argus had last seen Earth. It seemed as if a century or more had passed.
Now it was time for questions—and perhaps for answers. It was time to regroup, and it was time to prepare.
Conrad was suddenly conscious of the three people standing with him. It was good to not be alone, he reflected. He had an odd feeling that it was meant to be this way, the four of them together.
“We’re home,” Argus growled softly, a purr in his voice. “It’s all over.”
Conrad looked into the distance.
“It isn’t over. It’s only just beginning.”
Thank you!
I hope you enjoyed Sanctuary’s Soldier! Please consider leaving a review. I appreciate all your support.
Want more from the Darkspace universe? Join my mailing list for a free story: The Admiral’s Cage.
Or, flip the page for an excerpt from Lords of the Dark, the standalone prequel to the Darkspace Saga.
Book 2, Sanctuary’s Gambit, will be released in July 2017.
Yours,
B.C.
PREVIEW - LORDS OF THE DARK
They said that there were two reasons a fleet captain ended out on the frontier. One reason was ambition, and the other reason was a total lack of ambition.
Captain Lees Tarillion took a sip of Tynish whiskey, savoring its smoky burn as it went down his throat, thinking about that old maxim.
When he was a cadet at the Imperial Academy on Albion Secundus eighteen years ago, no one ever accused him of lacking in ambition. He graduated first in his class, and landed a position as first officer on a ship leading the annexation of the Bespiuhiri system.
He’d been promoted quickly after that, becoming captain of the Lusus immediately after Bespiuhiri.
Things were different now. He swallowed another sip of whiskey. Ten years later, he was still the captain of the Lusus, and still patrolling the same conquered planetary systems on the frontier. His old mentors at the Academy had given up on him a long time ago.
Not that here was anything wrong with the Lusus. It was a fine ship, and its four hundred crewmen were fanatically loyal to him. More than a few had been offered transfers to bigger, better ships and they’d all turned them down. Tarillion prided himself on that. He was a good captain, and his men would die for him. And he would die for them. He’d refused advantageous matches with young, beautiful noblewomen arranged by his family to stay on board the Lusus. There were women among the crew of the Lusus, but Tarillion was not the kind of man to abuse his position. Although he knew that other captains did.
Women aside, he would have been very happy to spend his the rest of his life making the same boring circuit between the Seo, Neo, and Ultaxe systems.
Of course, fate had to intervene. The Lords of the Dark hate a contented man, the saying went. Tarillion wasn’t especially religious, but he had to admit that anytime things seemed to be going well for the Lusus, that was when something would explode on a subject world or the Vehn would threaten to eat an entire human colony or a bigger Imperial ship would come along and he would have to pretend to be extremely impressed by its captain. He usually failed on that count, which was probably why no one bothered to push for his advancement.
Reluctantly, he put down the empty glass down next to the commreader, eyeing it with distaste. Unfortunately, the order from Admiral Attilio Karsath was crystal clear. The Lusus was to leave his familiar orbit around Seo Tyne and rendezvous with the Secace at an Imperial starbase three portal jumps away.
Just the thought of the Secace’s captain set his teeth on edge. Captain Adon Heik was eleven years younger than he was and climbing the ranks of the navy with a speed that was almost obscene. Rumor had it that Heik would be a rear admiral before thirty. He’d met Heik before, out on the frontier. The man was eager to conquer and annex, and took to violence with an eagerness that made Tarillion deeply uncomfortable.
What in all the portals of the universe could be so important—or so unimportant—that Admiral Karsath would summon the Imperial frontier’s most ambitious and least ambitious captains to meet in utmost secrecy?
The instructions were simple, so simple that Tarillion knew they came directly from Admiral Karsath himself. Karsath never wasted words, and never wasted time, men, or anything else. He was elegant in his precision when he decided on annexation strategies. Whole worlds crumbled before Karsath’s flawless plans.
Tarillion tugged at the collar of his form-fitting gray uniform as he walked through the starbase on his way to the meeting. It was an old habit from his Academy days that showed up whenever he had to use his brain. Which he didn’t care to do unless death or destruction was imminent.
In this case, death and destruction were most definitely imminent.
All I have to do is make it through this meeting, and then I’ll be back to Seo Tyne in less than a day, he told himself. Whatever Karsath’s got planned, Heik will be the one to execute it. All I have to do is keep my mouth shut.
He entered the admiral’s room with his hands clasped behind his back. He saw the admiral sitting in a chair, holographic images of ships and scrolling text floating around him. Tarillion immediately bowed his head in respect. When he lifted his head, the holograms had disappeared, and he was looking directly at Fleet Admiral Attilio Karsath.
His features were refined and aquiline, proof of his noble breeding. It took more than family connections to rise to his position, however, and Tarillion knew that Karsath was a master tactician.
“Captain Tarillion,” Karsath intoned. He gestured to Tarillion’s right. “Captain Heik.”
Tarillion bowed his head slightly to his right, acknowledging Adon Heik without seeming too interested. He could feel Heik’s keen gaze on him, and chose to ignore it.
“I have a mission for you both.”
“A joint mission?” Tarillion asked. Heik looked at him askance. How dare he interrupt Admiral Karsath?
Karsath folded his hands. “Not quite,” he said. “The same mission, for both of you.”
Tarillion bowed his head in apology. “Apologies,” he said.
Karsath waved it off. “Unnecessary,” he said. “Gentlemen—this mission is of the utmost secrecy. Do you understand? Even your crews are not to be informed about the object of this mission. Brief only the officers that are absolutely essential. If word of this mission escapes from either one of you, I will have both your heads.”
Tarillion knew that he meant that literally. The custom of mounting traitors’ heads on pikes in front of the Imperial palace had faded into legend hundreds of years ago, but beheading was still considered a reasonable punishment for high crimes.
“Of course, sir,” Heik said briskly, his eyes glinting as he looked at his counterpart. No doubt he assumed that Tarillion was the weak one.
Karsath called up a hologram. It was a scrolling text that Tarillion didn’t recognize. The characters were worn away, suggesting that whatever it was, it was extremely old.
“Gentlemen,” he said. “What do you know about the Lords of the Dark?”
The two captains glanced at each other furtively at this. “Not very much, sir,” Tarillion admitted. “I’m not religious, so no more than the average citizen.”
His first officer had known him to swear to the Lords of the Dark when something broke on board the Lusus, but beyond that Tarillion never referenced the Imperial religion that was as ancient as the Empire itself.
“Guardians of the portals,” Heik offered up. “And, uh, eaters of souls.”
Karsath smiled. “Yes. We’ve all heard the old stories from our childhoods. Shapeless gods, they’re supposed to be. That will come and eat bad children who don’t obey their parents.”
Tarillion thought back to the festivals he’d attended as a child. Ships would leave offerings of food and books at the portals, which linked planetary systems across the galaxy. It was said that the Lords of the Dark were perpetually hungry, and that their appetites had to be sated for ships to safely pass through portals. Without the portals humans would be unable to travel instantaneously between the stars.
Karsath looked at the scrolling text. “We always assumed that the Lords were myths,” he said. “But this text—from an annexed world—indicates that they were not. And are not.”
Tarillion stared at the admiral, forgetting his manners.
Karsath went on. “There are references to these creatures through the ancient texts of almost every system and people annexed by the Empire,” he said. “The names are different, of course. We call them the Lords of the Dark. But many people call them them the Locc—Loake, Lohk, L’occ. The same name, repeated throughout planets that have had nothing to do with each other for thousands of years.” He paused, lost in thought as he looked at the ancient text hovering before him.
Tarillion tugged at his collar. “Sir?”
Karsath looked at the two captains before them. “Your mission, gentleman, is to find one of these Lords.”
Tarillion dared to glance at Heik. The man looked equally shocked, but he disguised it quickly and his face returned to a neutral expression.
“With respect,” he said. “How are we to find one of these...creatures? Especially if they have no shape or form?”
“I will be sending you all the information gathered by the Imperial archives about the Lords to your ships,” Karsath said. “Our agents on worlds throughout the Empire have been seeking out rumors and stories about them, and there are suggestions that there is one somewhere out here, on the frontier. Your duty is to find and retrieve this creature.”
Heik shifted his stance. Tarillion could sense the man plotting and scheming.
> “Understood, sir,” Heik said. He was already chomping at the bit, eager to begin.
“Dismissed,” Karsath said, and Heik bowed, turned and left without so much as a word to Tarillion. As Tarillion began to bow and back away, he heard words that sent an icy stab through his gut.
“Captain Tarillion,” Karsath said. “Stay.”
Warily, Tarillion stood up straight again. “Sir?” he dared.
“I imagine that you might be wondering, captain, why you were chosen for this mission.” Karsath said, gazing directly at him. Tarillion tried to keep his face straight.
“If I may say so, sir, Adon Heik is an exceedingly...competent captain and I’m sure that if anyone can complete this mission, he can.” The words were distasteful but Tarillion got them out. I’m not lying, he figured. Heik was competent. Frighteningly so.
A small, tight smile appeared on Karsath’s face. “Captain. I do not make a habit of waste, as you well know. As I was preparing the orders for this mission, I read over the dossier of every captain on this frontier. Hundreds of dossiers, hundreds of ships. When I came to your dossier, I confess that my curiosity was piqued. A valedictorian of the Academy, with multiple commendations from the annexation of Bespiuhiri...and then nothing.”
Tarillion shifted his stance. “Sir, you’ll find that I have no reprimands on my record, and that my patrols in the Seo system—”
Karsath cut him short with a simple raise of his eyebrow. “Captain,” he said. “It is clear that you have not...overexerted yourself in an attempt to impress your superiors. That you have completed your assignments in protecting the Seo, Neo, and Ultaxe systems with distinction. But careers are not built on patrols.”
Tarillion decided to stay silent.
“When I look at your record, Captain, what I see is a man who performed with impressive skill at his first annexation. A man who, if he had continued in that vein, would have led future conquests and annexations, and could have become one of my own lieutenants, and eventually an admiral himself.” He studied Tarillion.
Sanctuary's Soldier: The Darkspace Saga Book 1 Page 23