Lords of the Dark: A Darkspace Saga Novella
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Lords of the Dark
A Darkspace Saga Novella
B.C. Kellogg
Blueshift Press
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Preview: Sanctuary’s Soldier
About the Author
Copyright © 2017 by B.C. Kellogg
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Chapter 1
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 th
e 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.
“Sir,” Tarillion said, aghast. “You give me far too much credit—”
“I do not think I exaggerate,” Karsath said, suddenly cold. “No, Captain. I think you have made a career out of being underestimated and ignored. There was something about the annexation of Bespiuhiri that changed you. Am I wrong? After you took command of the Lusus you were an entirely different officer. An officer that deprived the Empire—and the admiralty—of a tactical mind that could have conquered dozens of planets in the last ten years. Instead you spend your time plodding around, making circuits around the same three frontier systems.”
Tarillion was speechless. How could the admiral have gleaned so much from his dossier alone?
Karsath leaned back. “You will accomplish this task for me, Captain Tarillion. You have spent too many years avoiding attention. You find the Empire’s conquests detestable, and have been doing just enough to escape notice. But as you will soon discover, there are no in-betweens or halfways or shades of gray in the service of the Empire. There is no such thing as safety. And you must take action.”
Tarillion kept his head bowed. Somehow, he’d made the fatal mistake of underestimating Admiral Attilio Karsath.
“I abhor waste. Your mind and skills belong to the Empire, and you will escape my attention no longer, captain. In order to properly motivate you, I will make the consequences of failure very clear. If you fail, every member of your crew will be sent to a penal colony. From your first officer to the youngest ensign. I will have the Lusus itself decommissioned and scrapped. Am I understood?”
“Yessir.” Tarillion held perfectly still.
“Dismissed,” said Karsath, his face neutral, showing no anger or amusement. “Don’t fail me, captain.”
Chapter 2
Tarillion walked slowly back through the starbase. His mind was swimming with the implications of what had just happened. Karsath hadn’t discussed the consequences of what would happen to him if he failed, but the threat against the Lusus and its crew was enough. The admiral had correctly deduced that this was his one vulnerability.
He paused at a viewport and gazed outside at the Lusus, docked near the Secace. Half of his crew was on the starbase, enjoying a change of scenery. He wondered if he could keep the promise he’d made them to keep them safe.
Karsath himself said there was no such thing as safety.
“They’re fine looking ships, aren’t they, old man,” came an unwelcome voice behind him.
Tarillion pulled himself away from the view to look into Heik’s smiling face.
“The Secace is a few years younger than yours,” Heik observed. “Bigger, too. Don’t work too hard, old man,” he said with a nod. “Save us both the trouble and let me finish this task for Karsath.”
“I’ll do as I’m ordered,” Tarillion said frostily.
“I’m sure you will,” Heik replied, already walking away. “Just remember that someday—you may be receiving orders from me.”
Tarillion watched Heik’s back as he walked away. He shook his head. The man had no idea what who he was up against.
The Secace was gone a few hours later.
Tarillion stood in front of his assembled senior officers. They were staring back at him, all in a state of shock.
“Sir,” his XO said. “I believe I speak for the rest of us when I say—hell.”
Tarillion smiled slightly. “Jeq, I understand that this is out of the ordinary. But these orders come from Karsath himself. What I’m looking for now are ideas.”
“We’ve started ingesting the data,” Jeq replied. “But the analysis is going to take more than a day. And the Secace is already gone.”
Tarillion folded his arms. “I don’t give a damn about the Secace,” he said. “Heik can waste all his time and energy chasing the first clue he comes across in the data. I expect to do better.”
Asifa, the ship’s medical officer, spoke up. “This might seem reckless, sir…”
“Let’s hear it.”
She hesitated. “Sir. Anyone outside the Lusus would never approve, but...we’ve always had a...complicated relationship with the locals. A good one, most of the time.”
It was true. Man
y Imperial captains used their authority to terrify conquered populations into submission, but Tarillion refused to do the same. He found that they were willing to cooperate once he’d driven off the flesh-eating Vehn for them. And since he never sought promotions or transfers away from his post, he’d made friends among the locals.
“What are you suggesting?”
“That we take advantage of it.” She leaned forward. “If there are stories about these creatures in every conquered people, then there’s got to be people on Seo or Neo who know about them. Who might be willing to tell us things that they’d never tell an Imperial agent.”
Tarillion smiled wanly. “Are you suggesting that we’re not Imperial agents, Asifa?”
Her face turned slightly red. “No. Yes. You know what I mean...sir.”
Jeq cut in. “It’s a good suggestion, sir. With your permission, I’ll take us back to Seo Tyne.”
Tarillion raised his hand. “Fine. I’m taking the lead when we go planetside.”
As his officers filed out of the room, Jeq paused at the door.
“Jeq,” Tarillion said. He knew he could depend on his XO, and trusted him completely.”
“Sir,” he said, and paused. “Do you think...do you think these creatures really are the Lords of the Dark?”
Tarillion remembered that Jeq had grown up in a strict religious household. He shrugged. “We’ll find out, Jeq,” he said, clapping the man on the shoulder. “One way or another, we’ll find out.”
“Sir, are you really planning to go down in that?” Jeq’s sounded scandalized.
Tarillion tugged the worn brown jacket around him. Together with a broad-rimmed hat and a plain pair of pants, he was dressed fully like a Seo local. Underneath the shirt he still wore another shirt with his Imperial insignia.
“What? I think I look good,” he said, looking at Jeq. His XO looked like he was halfway between shock and resignation.