The universe dimmed and then flared back into existence.
He was there again. The space outside the cockpit windows was nothing but shades of black and hints of white.
This time, there was something more.
It looks like… there could be… it looks like paths in the dark.
Conrad gasped and coughed as the La Paz’s metallic air filled his lungs. He’d held his breath as they soared through the portal.
He leaned forward, his body shaking with the effort. “Where are we?” he rasped. “Argus!”
The Kazhad was already working the sensor display. “Nowhere the starmaps recognize,” he said. “We’re not in the quadrant of any known space.”
Conrad worked the controls. He ejected Hogarth’s beacon as an afterthought. If we die in the next five minutes maybe the next ship to come through will know where we went. Even if it’s a hundred million years from now.
“Vehn ship followed us through,” Argus said. Dread settled into the pit of Conrad’s stomach.
“How far off are they?”
Before Argus could answer Conrad was slammed back into his seat. He gripped his console. He could feel the g-forces buffeting the ship and his body.
“Inertial dampers working, but damaged,” he heard Argus say. “Stabilizers are gone.”
“C’mon, old girl,” he muttered to the La Paz. “Keep on flying.”
The ship shook but picked up speed. The sensor display showed the Vehn ship, scorched but unbroken.
Forty-seven minutes later the Vehn were still in pursuit.
“Fuel cells are low,” Conrad said, feeling the ship straining. “Argus, we’re running out of options.”
“I’m running a quick scan of the surroundings,” said Argus. “If we can find a nebula—”
A jolt followed a bright flash off starboard.
“We’re hit!”
Conrad grabbed at the controls, trying to regain control. The sensors blinked on and then off. They were flying blind—the La Paz was nonresponsive.
The ship spun. Conrad ignored the nausea and looked out through the cockpit windows. The unfamiliar stars in the distance gave no clue as to where they were.
A sudden jolt passed through the ship and everything went still. It was as if time itself had stopped. The La Paz no longer creaked nor groaned; everything was quiet.
Conrad and Argus stared at each other. “The Vehn?” Conrad asked.
Argus shook his head. Conrad jerked his head toward the back of the ship. The Kazhad understood in an instant.
They unbuckled their harnesses and ran, their footsteps sounding strangely hollow.
Conrad kicked open the hidden compartment near their bunks. It was filled with rifles and close-combat blades.
A heavy thump sounded as Conrad slung the rifle strap over his shoulder.
“The cockpit,” he said to Argus. It was the best place to make their last stand—they’d get the most shots in before the Vehn could make their way to the cockpit. He slid a blade into Argus’s belt. “In case we run out of ammunition,” he said with a mirthless grin. “Do me a favor, will you?”
Argus rumbled deep in his chest. It was a mix of fury, reassurance, and bloodlust. Only a Kazhad could express all those things at once, thought Conrad. He slipped a blade into his own belt and they ran back to the cockpit, closing every partition along the way.
The doors were thin, but every second would count.
They trained their rifles on the closed cockpit door.
Another thump echoed through the paralyzed ship. Conrad could feel the sweat trickling down the back of his neck.
Argus began to rumble again. By the time the Vehn reached the door, it would be a full-fledged roar.
There was a sharp metallic sound. Conrad’s finger squeezed lightly on the trigger. The Vehn had opened the hatch of the La Paz.
He waited for the sound of the Vehn. He remembered the classified vids shown at the Academy. Vehn voices were shrill and haunting, the calls of predators on the hunt.
Another partition slid open.
There was still nothing but silence.
He cast an uneasy glance at Argus. The Kazhad merely readjusted his aim.
One more partition slid open. There was only one left before they would reach the cockpit, and yet there were no screams, no howls.
Something stood in front of the cockpit door. Conrad took a breath, lifted his rifle, and waited.
The door opened.
A blazing light filled the cockpit.
His body jerked as an electric shock hit his throat. Conrad felt his body go hot, then cold. He went limp, the rifle tumbling from his hands.
The last thing he saw before his head slammed into the deck was a shadow—a shadow in the shape of a human being.
Chapter 11
“Who are you?” asked the shadow. “Or perhaps more specifically—what are you?”
The shadow’s voice was neutral. Curious, even. And it was speaking Earth Standard, albeit a heavily accented version of it. Conrad tried to place the accent and failed.
His vision began to clear. He was staring at a light—a large, round light that had no defined borders. It shone directly into his retinas. The light was on the ceiling, a gunmetal gray ceiling.
He wasn’t on the La Paz anymore, that much was certain.
“My name is Conrad Redeker,” he said, through dry, cracked lips. He paused, unwilling to say more.
“That name means nothing to me,” said the shadow. Conrad looked down, past the light to the figure standing at the foot of the bed. The shadow was a man. He stood stock still, hands clasped behind his back, his eyes fixed on his captive.
He had a military manner; his black hair was close-cropped and his uniform was as drab and gray as the ceiling.
“Who’re you?” Conrad croaked. His head was pounding.
“I am Heik, the captain of the Secace,” he said simply. “You are on board my ship.”
Conrad tried to rise from the bed, but something held him firmly to its hard, flat surface. He looked to the left and his right—Argus was nowhere to be seen.
“Our ship identified unusually high levels of first order proton radiation at this location four hours ago,” he said. “When we arrived, we saw your ship—and the Vehn. You will tell me why you are here, at these coordinates,” he said. “And your relation to the Vehn ship that we destroyed. And most importantly, you will tell us where the portal lies in this system. Such high levels of radiation exist only where there is a portal.”
The way he pronounced Vehn was almost unrecognizable—almost. The translator embedded in his ear was activated, but was functioning on only the most basic levels. Wherever they were, Conrad reasoned, it couldn’t be far from Sanctuary if he was still speaking Standard, even if it was heavily accented.
“The Vehn were pursuing us,” said Conrad, avoiding the question of the portal. “If you boarded our ship, then you saw the damage they did.”
“The Vehn are not commonly found in this region,” the captain said. “Where have you come from? Who commands you?”
The pounding in Conrad’s head grew worse. “My copilot,” he said. “Where’s my copilot?”
A look of distaste passed over the captain’s face. “That… thing?”
Conrad decided he didn’t like Heik, captain of the Secace. “Yeah. That thing.”
“The neutralizer has mixed effects on aliens,” he said, flatly. “In this case—for this unknown species—it resulted in temporary paralysis. That little pet of yours remains on your vessel.”
Conrad’s headache subsided slightly at the captain’s words. At least he’s still alive.
“Which brings us to the question,” the captain continued, “of what it was doing in your cockpit. It is illegal to train, teach, or use semi-sentient aliens to fly any ship capable of spaceflight. Although in the case of your ship, spaceflight is, perhaps, no longer a possibility. Nonetheless,” he said, never breaking Conrad’s gaze, “it is a
violation of Imperial law. I could separate your head from your body for this transgression alone.
“Furthermore,” he said, “Upon searching your vessel we discovered weaponry of a make we have never seen before. Primitive, but weapons all the same. Which suggests to me that I should take a special interest in you, Conrad Redeker,” he said.
Imperial law?
From the corner of his eye Conrad could see a wicked-looking android wielding a long, thin needle. His breath caught in his throat. Conrad strained against his invisible restraints, but he could only blink, breathe, and speak.
“You’ll regret this,” he got out.
“I doubt that very much,” the captain said dismissively. “Perhaps you’re running guns for the insurgency. Or shepherding Vehn to raid the planets in this system. In any case, we will find out.”
A strangled scream rose from Conrad’s throat as the needle pierced his temple.
Just as suddenly the needle was gone. But the pain remained, throbbing out from the bleeding puncture wound through every nerve in his body.
“It cannot be,” he heard Heik say. There was that accent again, but there was no mistaking the shock in his voice.
“The sample is impeccable, captain.” The android’s voice was flat and mechanical.
“I suppose,” Heik said slowly. “The look of him is right. I wonder that I didn’t see it before. Release him.”
Suddenly the invisible field encasing Conrad’s body disappeared. He sat up, every muscle spasming, and glared at the captain, who stood two feet away.
“Is this a test?” the captain asked. “A test of my loyalty? The admiralty need only examine my service record and my pedigree. My family is a minor house but still Satori.”
Conrad wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. Crimson blood mixed with sweat dripped down his skin.
Something had changed. Something major, for the captain’s demeanor to change so drastically.
Don’t ask questions. Find Argus. Get off this damn ship.
“A test,” he said, trying to keep his voice firm and steady despite the exhaustion that was creeping through his body. “Yes. You will repair my ship immediately, captain. And you will return my pet to me.”
Heik studied him for a moment, and Conrad wondered if his words had been convincing enough. “Of course,” he said, inclining his head forward in a slight bow. “We would be honored to escort your vessel to Albion Prime.”
Albion Prime?
“That won’t be necessary,” he replied. “I’ve got business in this system.”
The captain paused. “If I may ask, sir,” he said. “The radiation spike we detected suggests that there is a portal in this system. Is that—”
“Classified,” snapped Conrad.
The captain bowed again. “Of course. With your permission, I will see to your ship’s repairs myself.”
“And my pet?” he demanded.
“At once, my lord.”
My lord?
Conrad looked around the sick bay. Or at least it looked like a sick bay. It was either that or an interrogation room—or maybe it was both.
“Argus,” he said, quietly and urgently in Kazhadi. “We need to get off this ship. Fast.”
The Kazhad dipped his head in agreement. He appeared none the worse for wear for having been temporarily paralyzed. Hell, he even looks well-rested. Conrad wiped his forehead again and came away with only a faint rusty smear of blood. He felt as if he’d been awake for days, not hours. A sharp ache throbbed through his skull, originating at the site where the android had drilled into his head.
“How much time do we have?” asked Argus, in Kazhadi.
“Unknown. They could come back any minute once they figure out I’m not any kind of lord—or when they find something incriminating on the La Paz.”
“Lord?” Argus repeated, deeply skeptical.
“That’s what they called me,” said Conrad. “They’ve got to be monitoring us. But look around. There’s gotta be something here that tells us something—anything—about what the hell is going on here.”
Argus looked around the sick bay. “Far too sophisticated for pirates,” he said. “Too clean. And the tech is… unusual. I’ve never seen it before.”
“Some kind of local militia?” Conrad guessed. “They’re speaking Standard, so we can’t be that far from a system with links back to Sanctuary. And, by the way, we’d best stick to Kazhadi for the duration.”
Argus reached for a console. Conrad grabbed his wrist. “They think you’re… non-sentient,” he said, apologetically.
Argus roared.
“Keep it down, will you?” Conrad hissed. He grabbed the console. “Let me do this. You can look, but try not to look like you’re looking.”
Argus growled as if he was going to tear something—or someone—apart, limb by limb, but he sat down obediently next to the console.
Conrad studied the screen. A good chunk of it was gibberish, but it was Standard gibberish and he could understand most of it. It had an outline of his body. Must be medical data. There was a small faint circle beneath the outline. Conrad lay his finger on it experimentally.
“The hell…” he exclaimed, yanking his hand away when a pinprick of pain shot through his finger. He looked down at his hand; a single ruby point of blood gleamed. He looked back at the console. It changed suddenly, the outline of his body disappearing to show a simple diagram of the ship.
The Secace, he guessed. It was a well-designed ship, he had to admit. Corps ships were made of ninety-degree angles; by contrast, the Secace was long and elegant. “I wonder where the La Paz is on this ship,” he muttered quietly, forgetting to speak in Kazhadi.
A line of text suddenly appeared on the screen.
Clarify: unidentified vessel captured 14.67 cycles ago?
Conrad looked to Argus for confirmation. The Kazhad nodded; if a cycle meant an hour, then it was approximately correct.
“Yes,” he said.
In response, the console blinked before showing a detailed map of the Secace’s guts, with a single dot showing the location of the La Paz on one of the lower decks.
“Is it a trick?” Argus murmured. “This is too easy.”
“We have to take it,” Conrad responded. “What are we going to do when they discover that I’m—well, me?” He glanced around him. “Let me try something. And if it works, Argus—we’d better be ready to make a run for it.”
He looked at the console, thinking through what they had to do. “Do you really think that will work?” Argus huffed softly in Kazhadi.
Conrad shrugged, and looked down at the screen. Conrad stood up, his hand still on the console. He lowered his voice until it was just a whisper.
“Open the door. And guide us to the location of the unidentified vessel.”
Acknowledged.
Chapter 12
“How?” Argus asked, following Conrad. “How did you do that?”
“I asked nicely,” said Conrad breathlessly, charging down the corridor. If he remembered the map on the console correctly, this would lead them to a lift.
Argus made a sound full of doubt and uncertainty. “Ah, hell,” Conrad said to him. “Like there was any other option? What were you going to do, wait for them to give you a steak and a shampoo?
“We’re going down three levels,” he continued. “There’s another lift at the far end of that deck. That’ll take us to the La Paz.” They entered the lift. “Try to look like you’re, y’know, an animal,” he muttered to Argus out of the corner of his mouth.
“Shall I maul you?”
“No, but you might get to use those canines of yours sooner than you think,” Conrad responded. As they waited, Conrad pinched the bridge of his nose. The aftermath of the needle piercing his head had left him in pain and unsteady, even with the adrenaline rushing through his system.
The lift halted and opened. There was a single crewman standing at the end of the hall, waiting near the lift that led to the bay
where the La Paz was docked.
Conrad led the way to the lift, doing his best to look nonchalant. The crewman turned to look at him and then stared at Argus, his eyes widening.
“My… lord,” he said respectfully to Conrad. “May I assist you?”
“I’m checking on the repairs to my ship,” said Conrad.
The crewman stepped aside, the lift doors opening. “Of course, milord,” he said. “It’s two levels down. Five doors past the weapons cache. Your bloodprint will let you through, of course. The doors leading down to the bay are open.”
Conrad tried to look dignified and nodded to the crewman as the lift doors closed.
“Did you hear that?” said Argus. “Weapons cache!”
“Eyes on the target,” Conrad said to him. “We’re running out of time.”
The lift doors opened again. This corridor was mercifully empty. Conrad moved toward the open doors at the end of the hall. It had to be the bay where the La Paz was being held.
“The weapons cache,” Conrad heard Argus say behind him. “This is it—”
“Argus, don’t touch—”
Conrad glanced behind him and stopped dead in his tracks. A red light flashed inside the open locker. Argus was frozen, his paw on a polished silver device that could only be a gun. Conrad groaned and turned around.
“Well, since you just blew our cover,” Conrad said, grabbing a bigger, even deadlier-looking contraption out of the locker, “don’t mind if I do. Let’s go.”
The bay doors were open. Inside, crewmen were working on the La Paz, as the captain had promised. Conrad scanned the area, finding a man dressed in a gray uniform similar to the one worn by Heik. He walked over, leaving Argus near the doors.
“You,” he said. The man looked at him, and bowed his head.
“My lord,” he said, clearly nervous. “The—this ship is not yet ready. We’ve repaired it to the best of our ability, replaced its engine, and installed voice commands and an AI nucleus, but…”
“Can it fly?”
“I am unfamiliar with this technology, milord,” the officer said, his face turning ashen. “It is primitive, to say the least. But so far as I can tell—it should fly, yes.”
Sanctuary's Soldier: The Darkspace Saga Book 1 Page 7
