Sanctuary's Gambit: The Darkspace Saga Book 2

by B. C. Kellogg

  “They turn out the most beautiful ships,” Tarillion observed. “Every living Caderan engineer and shipwright is installed in the stations around Albion Secundus, designing and building the navy’s finest vessels. The Lusus was built here. Admiral Karsath’s personal ship—the Arbiter—was built in these shipyards as well. And even the pretty little ship that you ‘borrowed’ out of the storehouse originated from the Secundus shipyards.”

  Conrad shook his head. The sheer scale of the installation was something he could never even have imagined. From the bridge of the Lusus he could see the thousands of ships and structures in orbit around the planet. They ringed the planet. Up close, he could see the skeletons of massive carrier ships, smaller supply vessels and construction drones buzzing through space. There were at least four major space stations that Conrad could identify, each one spinning slowly. By the numbers of small ships moving around it he guessed that the stations were the homes of the Caderan engineers that Tarillion referred to—and their keepers.

  “I had no idea,” he muttered, still astounded. “How many of these have you got?”

  “There are secondary and tertiary shipyards scattered throughout the central worlds. But Albion Secundus is the beating heart of the Imperial navy—and these are her finest shipyards.” There was a hint of pride in Tarillion’s voice. “Be grateful that you’ve seen it. Very few civilians are permitted this close, unless they’re a shipwright condemned to live the rest of his life here above the planet.”

  Conrad turned to look at him. “Not sure I want to get any closer, to be honest with you.”

  Tarillion almost smiled. “Come with me, pilot.” He nodded to Conrad’s guards. “Dismissed.”

  Conrad followed the captain off the bridge. The guards—and Tarillion’s XO—looked on dubiously.

  “They don’t like you,” Tarillion said, nonchalant. “On account of you trying to destroy their ship.”

  Conrad shrugged. “I haven’t done a thing in the last four days except sit around waiting,” he defended himself.

  They were out of earshot quickly, walking through a narrow corridor now, with an elongated viewport stretching across the length of the bulkhead. Conrad looked through it, still enraptured by the magnificence of the shipyards and planet beyond.

  “It’s hard to look away, isn’t it,” Tarillion said. “Even a ‘civilian’ pilot like yourself knows a thing of beauty when you see it.”

  Conrad paused. “I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t,” he admitted.

  “The shipyards, the planet, the navy, the Empire ... it’s all dazzling. It’s meant to be. When I was a boy, I wanted nothing more than to be a part of it all. I had toy ships hanging from the ceiling in my bedroom, and one of my earliest memories is of my father taking me up in our tiny household flier to watch the big Imperial guardships enter the atmosphere. They were silver monsters the size of an entire town. I made up my mind early to be a captain of one of those ships, eventually.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” Out of the corner of his eye, Conrad saw one of the escort ships that had accompanied the Lusus three portals ago. It was a reminder that there was no escape from whatever Admiral Karsath had planned for him.

  “All this power, all this glory—” Tarillion waved to the shipyards. “It has a purpose. To keep order in the galaxy. To give people something to live and die for.”

  Conrad thought of the vows he’d made to the Protectorate Corps. Although the Corps was nothing like the Empire, he understood something about the glory of such a fleet. “I understand that.”

  “The life of the conqueror is the soul of the Satori Empire. Since its founding, the Satori have sought out new worlds and peoples, and brought them under its protection—or its control, depending on your perspective. It’s the same story, over and over again. The Empire sends its navy to annex a planet or a system. If the population is human, its government and rulers are incorporated into the structure of the Empire. If the population is sentient non-human, they’re neutralized as quickly as possible.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “In the beginning, it was considered honorable to kill them by hand. The navy would send its soldiers down, and they would kill any sentient non-human populations. Hunt them for sport, take their heads or skins for trophies. Things are more lax these days—they’re sometimes permitted to live, if they have some skill or behavior that’s useful. There are some who think the Satori have gone soft by departing from the old martial traditions, especially with regard to conquered alien species.”

  Soft was not a word that Conrad would apply to the Empire—ever. He eyed the escort ships again.

  “But you know what underpins it all,” said Tarillion. “What the foundation is. Fear and brutality.” He was studying a particularly vicious looking destroyer, half-built and floating near a station.

  Was the man a renegade? Conrad looked to the captain. “Thanks for the history lesson. So why do you still serve the Empire, if that’s what it is?”

  “First, I have no choice,” said Tarillion. “I never have. I was promised to Imperial service since childhood. Now, I have a duty to the crew of this ship, and the planets that I protect.” He folded his arms. “And then there are other promises I’ve made.”

  “For a military man, you sure like your secrets and your riddles,” said Conrad, suddenly impatient. He jabbed a thumb at the planet. “You’re not giving me much time,” he said. “Whoever wants me is waiting down there. And if you’re not my enemy, like you say, then tell me what’s going to happen. What you want—and what you want me to do.”

  “I can’t tell you much,” Tarillion said. “Only what you need to know to prepare yourself. If I give you precise details, they may drag them out of your mind during interrogation. I’ve already incriminated myself enough—turning you over just might mean that I’m signing my own death warrant.”

  “Go on,” said Conrad.

  Tarillion lowered his voice, despite the fact that there was no one else in the corridor. “Your father is Tadao Southwark,” he said matter-of-factly. “You don’t need to say yes or no. I know that you are.”

  The hairs on the back of Conrad’s neck prickled as Tarillion continued.

  “Two thousand years ago, Southwark was a conqueror among the founding Satori. He brought dozens—perhaps hundreds—of planets under the control of the Empire. The legends say that he had almost magical powers when it came to the portals, and that it was his mastery of the portals that sowed the seeds for the ultimate victory of the Empire in its early years. Of course, most people these days think that these stories are just stories and myths—outsize legends about the founders are common enough. But Admiral Karsath believed that there was more to this story. Pay attention when I tell you about Karsath. He’s not to be crossed.”

  Tarillion’s voice was growing more urgent as he spoke. “The reason that the admiral happens to be so interested in you, pilot, is that your bloodprint indicates that you are Southwark’s son. I don’t know why, or how that’s possible. All that I know is that it’s true. Blood never lies.”

  Conrad’s mouth opened and then closed. He overcame his shock quickly. “Even if I am, what does that mean?”

  Tarillion looked grim. “He means to make you into a tool of conquest, as Tadao Southwark once was,” he said.

  “I won’t cooperate,” said Conrad automatically.

  “I expect you don’t intend to,” said Tarillion. “But you may not have a choice. It may be that your free will and consent will not be required. It all remains to be seen.”

  Conrad ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “If you don’t know what’s going to happen to me, why even tell me anything?”

  The man looked at him with something like pity. “Because ... I hope to remove you from this fate at some point, boy. It’s not possible now, and I don’t know when I can come for you. But I want you to look at me, memorize my face, and to know that I am not your enemy.” He paused.

  Conrad s
wallowed. “I won’t,” he promised.

  “They may do things to your mind. Make you believe things that you know are false, make you unable to resist their commands. What I want is—when the time comes, you will remember who I am. Remember that the best shot you’ve got is to trust me. You must not forget me,” he emphasized.

  “How do you know all this?” Conrad asked. “And why do you want to help me?”

  Tarillion took a deep breath. “Do you know what the Lords of the Dark are, pilot?”

  Conrad wet his lips. “The Locc,” he said softly, staring at Tarillion, more alert than ever.

  The intensity in Tarillion’s face grew. “Yes,” he said. “Gods of the portals, according to legend. The Satori worshipped them—or at least they used to, millennia ago. I never believed that they were real, myself ... until ...”

  “Until?” Conrad pressed.

  “Until I encountered one,” the man said at last. “The admiral sent me to find one, and I did. It ... consumed me,” he said, holding himself stock-still as he recalled the experience.

  Conrad was silent for a moment. “It did the same to me,” he admitted.

  “The Locc are more than a myth,” said Tarillion. “So much more. They are not human. Not alien. Something else.” He paused. “It’s difficult to describe. I believe that they transcend this reality. And they have servants, servants who can translate for them to some degree.”

  “The Nu,” Conrad said in a low voice that was almost a whisper.

  Tarillion’s eyes glinted. “Yes,” he whispered. “The Nu have spoken to me, about you. They put me in your path at Seo Cire. Or perhaps the Locc or the universe arranged itself to put me there. It doesn’t matter. I will save you from the Empire if I can. I have sworn it.”

  The peculiar captain’s allegiance lay not with the Empire or the Federation. It lay with the Locc—and the Nu. Conrad considered this revelation. As far as he knew the Nu never let a human male escape their grasp.

  “Captain,” he said. “The Locc. After it ... consumed you, did you notice anything strange about yourself? When you passed through a portal, did you ... see something?”

  “No,” he replied. “Nothing about the portals changed for me. But you have felt a change,” he said.

  “Yes,” Conrad admitted. “Time slowed down whenever I’ve hit a portal. There’s another world in there. Another universe.”

  The expression on Tarillion’s face was grave. “Consider your heritage,” he said. “Consider your blood.”

  Albion Secundus was a bleak place. The shuttle that carried him down to the planet’s surface was gray. The planet was dull, its skies a somber slate color. Even the sunlight that filtered down through the clouds was weak and dim.

  Kinda reminds me of Dublin, Conrad thought with a brief sense of homesickness. Conrad observed that the Imperial Citadel was made of the same gleaming stone as the palace on Albion Prime. It was just as oppressive, and even more plain, reflecting its purpose as the traditional base of the Empire’s admirals and generals.

  He looked down at the binders that secured his hands, and then looked to Tarillion, who stood next to him. The man studiously avoided eye contact with his prisoner, marching ahead into the lofty Citadel. They were surrounded on all sides by guards. Some from the Lusus, but most were from the Citadel itself.

  What do they think I’m gonna do—make a run for it? Conrad thought ruefully. He considered saying as much to Tarillion but the man looked straight ahead with an unswerving focus that suggested to Conrad that the best course of action was to stay silent.

  He hazarded a few glances at the interior of the Citadel. It was utilitarian and utterly without ornament. There were no crowds of soldiers to see them as they passed through—the path was clear. Conrad wondered if it was always like this, or if his arrival merited special treatment.

  I sure hope not.

  What Tarillion had told him in secret onboard the Lusus, however, was not reassuring.

  They came to a sleek black door. It opened, and Tarillion stepped ahead of him. The guards gathered behind them and waited there until the door closed.

  Conrad looked around him. They were standing in a room that was windowless, but judging by their walk here, they were far up in the Citadel, possibly at the very top.

  A tall man with sharp, deep-set eyes sat in a chair at its far end. For a moment, he was surrounded by holographic images, but as they approached they disappeared at the flick of a finger.

  “Admiral Karsath,” said Tarillion, bowing stiffly.

  The admiral’s eyes were fixed on Tarillion’s prisoner. “Here he is,” he said as he appraised Conrad. Conrad sensed that the man missed very little. “It’s taken far too long. We’ve been looking for you, young man.”

  His voice had the benign quality of an uncle, as if Conrad had made off with the family vehicle or gotten into trouble at school.

  Conrad cleared his throat. “Sorry about borrowing the ship,” he spoke up. “But I swear that it wasn’t my idea.”

  Karsath’s face registered mild surprise before growing impassive once more. “The ship,” he said. “Ah, yes. From Pac Ishi. It’s in good hands now, with Captain Tarillion here, whom I must thank for delivering you to me.” He inclined his head slightly towards the captain, and Tarillion did the same in acknowledgment.

  “You’re not going to kill me?” Conrad said directly. “I figured that stealing a ship like that would be ...”

  “For most, yes.” Karsath folded his hands in his lap. “But not you, young man. You have a very important role to fill. Tell me your name.”

  Conrad’s jaw tightened. He hadn’t told even told Tarillion his real name—not that it would mean anything to someone in the Empire. Despite that, he remained silent.

  Karsath smiled. “You prefer to be nameless,” he said. “That’s just as well, I suppose.”

  “What do you want from me?” Conrad asked bluntly.

  “I want you to serve the Empire,” said Karsath simply, without fire or rancor. “You are now a member of the Imperial Fleet, upon my order.”

  “I’m just a commercial pilot,” Conrad tried, holding his hands up in a posture of helplessness. “I don’t know anything about—”

  “None of that matters now,” said Karsath. “You could have been a farmer or a milkmaid or a pirate in your former life, for all I care. A far different destiny awaits you, and I believe you’ll thank me for it in the end.”

  Conrad advanced on the admiral. He appeared to be unarmed. Karsath didn’t move a single muscle as Conrad approached him.

  A soft growl in the shadows of the room caught Conrad’s attention. He looked to the right—a giant beast waited there, its half-feral eyes glinting.

  Conrad took a step back, staggered. “A Kazhad,” he said, staring at the muscular alien. The beast’s eyes registered similar surprise that he recognized its species, and its growl faded.

  Karsath’s eyes flickered to the Kazhad and back to Conrad. “A long-standing associate of mine,” he said simply. “Skaar—stay back.” The Kazhad slunk back into the shadows, its eyes still resting on Conrad.

  Karsath stood up and walked towards him, still completely unafraid. “I wanted to see you for myself,” he said. “You do look like I would imagine Tadao Southwark to be. Purebred Satori. A myth and a legend made flesh. And here you stand at last,” he said, with something like amazement in his tone. “Like a veritable gift from the Lords of the Dark.”

  “Wish someone could’ve told you earlier,” said Conrad. “But I’m not exactly good at following directions or living up to expectations Ask anyone who’s ever known me.”

  The lines around Karsath’s eyes creased slightly. He returned to his chair and sat down as if satisfied with what he saw in Conrad. “As I said,” he continued. “Your past no longer means anything. Rest easy. There will be no interrogation or extraction of your memories—it’s important to limit the damage to your mind as much as possible. I wanted to see you as you are, for s
oon you’ll be an entirely different person. And perhaps less a person ... and more something else entirely.”

  He turned to Tarillion. “Captain. You’ve done well. Return to your ship and wait for my summons.”

  Tarillion bowed and moved towards the door. It opened and the guards stepped back in, surrounding Conrad as Tarillion lingered outside the threshold.

  “As for our guest—he will need to be completely healthy before the procedures begin,” said Karsath. “Take him to the medical center for a full evaluation. Heal any wounds—restore him to full physical capacity.”

  Procedures? Conrad’s pulse picked up. This time, the guards seized his arms. Conrad attempted to yank free but the guards’ grip was ironclad. He stumbled as they dragged him towards the door as Admiral Karsath looked on, his gaze locked on his prisoner.

  “Don’t struggle,” Tarillion hissed as the door slid closed. He walked alongside him. “Remember,” he said in a low voice as the guards began to drag Conrad away. “Don’t forget.”

  The guards heard only a captor’s admonishment to his captive to cooperate. But Conrad knew that it was a reminder to remember Tarillion—to prepare for his rescue.

  Conrad’s heart thrashed inside his ribcage. “Conrad Redeker,” he whispered to Tarillion. He only had seconds. It was the only chance left for him to take. “My name—is Conrad Redeker.”

  Chapter 19

  “I’m obligated to warn you that this is a bad idea,” said the ops officer. “There’s breathable air down there ... but not enough for human habitation without extensive terraforming. By Protectorate standards, anyway. Sir, are you sure you want to go down there?”

  Argus and Jira gazed at the direct visual feed of the moonlet, hovering before them.

  “Go down,” Xee insisted. “Down to the surface.”

  The fur on Argus’s nape rippled. “We’ve come this far,” he said. “Who is the she who awaits us?”