The Phoenix Rising

by Richard L. Sanders

  “We’re saying that is a likely possibility, yes.”

  “That changes everything,” said Pellew. “Ships, fleets, none of it matters. With the ability to destroy stars, the Rotham could wipe out the entire human race. They could destroy everyone. And no one could stop them.”

  “Let’s keep it together,” said Calvin, forcing himself to remain calm and focused. “We don’t know how many of these weapons exist. And we don’t know how difficult they are to deploy. By all rights, TR-301 was not a strategic target. There was nothing there.”

  “Then it was a test target,” said Pellew.

  “Which means their weapon might not be ready for use.”

  “Looks pretty damned ready to me,” said Pellew, he pointed to one of the displays which showed a simulated, sped-up version of the TR-301 super-collapse. One moment a healthy-looking star and the next a singularity fierce enough to tear apart the very fabric of space.

  Pellew was right. This was a game changer. All other threats paled by comparison: replicants, covert fleets, corrupt leaders, rogue warships, none of it held the tiniest candle. Worst of all, Calvin was sure that all of these components were all part of the same dark portrait.

  “Thank you for bringing this to my attention,” he said. “Send all of this data to the Nighthawk’s computer.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He left the room, Pellew fast on his heels.

  “So what do we do?” asked Pellew.

  “It’s time for a meeting on the Nighthawk’s bridge. The Arcane Storm just got a lot more interesting.”

  ***

  “So there you have it,” said Calvin. They were on the Nighthawk, it was still tucked away in the Gemini drydocks but at least power had been restored.

  He stood at the bow of the bridge and looked over the small group he’d handpicked for this meeting. Tristan, Alex, and Summers each sat at various positions on the bridge and examined the data that’d been sent to each of their displays. Pellew, who was already in the know, didn’t occupy one of the posts. Instead he stood next to Calvin.

  They reacted to the information differently. Alex’s Rotham face was unreadable and alien. Tristan seemed intrigued, almost anxious, and Summers looked cold and stern. Calvin couldn’t quite tell what she was thinking, and in fact he’d seen very little of her the whole time they’d been on Gemini. She’d kept herself away from everybody and Calvin hadn’t quite had the nerve to try to pull her out of her self-imposed isolation. Until now. She’d come without argument and sat before him, her eyes scrutinizing the data. Her face like a stone.

  Despite her unsympathetic appearance, she was still the most beautiful woman Calvin had ever seen. Even now her golden hair, stunning eyes, delicately carved figure, and raw exquisiteness were impossible to ignore. He hated that she had that advantage on him. And if he was honest with himself, he hadn’t quite forgiven her for what she’d done to him. How she’d used his emotions against him. How he’d let himself see a bit of Christine in her. It filled him with all sorts of mixed emotions—mostly negative, and made him feel vulnerable. Something he deeply hated.

  “You’ve made a great deal of assumptions,” said Summers at last. “I hope, for all our sakes, you’re wrong about this.”

  “So do I,” said Calvin. “But I’m sure you all agree that this is an urgent priority. Something we need to deal with immediately. Hopefully, along the way, we’ll learn this threat has no teeth. But until I know that for sure...”

  “We would be gambling the lives of every person in the galaxy to ignore this,” said Tristan.

  “Precisely.”

  “I resent this allegation,” said Alex. His strange eyes looked up from his display and met Calvin’s. “I assure you that the Rotham Republic has no intentions of committing genocide. Even if such a weapon did exist, only paranoia would make you jump to such a depraved conclusion.”

  Calvin walked up to him, maintaining eye contact. “Does such a weapon exist?”

  Alex said nothing for a few seconds.

  “You know something, don’t you?” Calvin leaned in closer, looming over the short Rotham who suddenly looked very uncomfortable in his seat.

  Calvin heard the distinct click of a handgun chambering a bullet. “Spill your guts, lizard, or I’ll do it for you,” said Pellew.

  Alex’s eyes darted from Calvin to Pellew, then back to Calvin.

  “I don’t know much,” said Alex. “But yes, I’ve heard rumors of such a weapon. I never believed them. I still don’t. We would never develop such a thing. But,” he paused for a moment. And the next words out of his mouth came reluctantly. “It is possible. And there are those among us who would seek to possess it.”

  “Go on,” said Calvin.

  “I think it’s all a lie, as I said. But, if such a weapon does exist, I agree with you that it shouldn’t. I will help you find it—if it is real—so long as you promise me that we will destroy it. It would be as much a threat to my people in your hands as it would be to yours in our hands.”

  “You have my word,” said Calvin. “Such a weapon has no right to exist.” He took a step back and looked at the others for any signs of dissent. This was a very important strategic goal they all needed to agree on. The Fleet, the Phoenix Ring, the Organization, none of those entities should have a weapon like this any more than the Rotham Republic should, or anyone else. “Does anyone disagree?” he finally asked.

  No one spoke. Calvin took that as assent.

  “The people you are looking for are called the Rahajiim,” said Alex. “They want to end human dominance in the galaxy. They seek any weapons or means to shift the balance of power.”

  “Where are they?”

  “Everywhere and nowhere.”

  Calvin wasn’t impressed by this response. “Not good enough.”

  “I don’t know where they are. They are elusive. Their brotherhood speaks in secret phrases and whispers. No one knows their members. They move in the darkness. The Advent knows of them, but cannot find them. Perhaps some of the Advent are part of the Rahajiim. I do not know.”

  “Is that how you fit into this?” asked Calvin, realizing that Alex knew too much not to be involved. “Are you part of the Advent?” The Advent was the elite intelligence gathering network of the Rotham Republic.

  Alex looked unhappy to give up this secret. Calvin locked eyes with him intensely, making it clear he had no choice. “Yes,” said Alex. “I am an Advent operative. The squadron that was in Abia, it was Rahajiim. I had infiltrated and was gathering intelligence. Someone recognized me and they locked me up. Then you found me.”

  He seemed to be telling the truth, though Calvin found Alex’s Rotham face more difficult to read than a human’s would have been.

  “As to what the squadron was doing in Abia. I don’t know. I didn’t figure that out in time,” Alex admitted, shame trickling into his voice. “I failed my mission. But if such a weapon does exist, it’s the Rahajiim who would be seeking it.”

  “So the Rahajiim do not represent the interests of the Rotham government?” Calvin had worried that the Rotham involved with the conspiracy had the blessing and resources of the Rotham state.

  “Believe it or not, human Commander, not all Rotham are interested in ambition and trickery.” His eyes made it clear he didn’t like this widely believed stereotype. “Some of us just want to be left alone. Many of us are non-interventionists. We don’t want another war.”

  Calvin thought back on what Raidan had told him, about the Phoenix Ring, a clandestine group of humans bent on breaking and reforming the Empire. He knew they were cooperating with Rotham forces. Presumably, that meant the Rahajiim. “Tell me,” said Calvin. “Are the Rahajiim working with humans to achieve their goals?”

  “Yes, though the Advent has not uncovered who yet. But we know the Rahajiim have dealings with a covert human organization.”

  Calvin nodded. It had to be the Phoenix Ring. “Thank you. Now where can I find these Rahajiim?”

 
“I told you, I do not know. No one knows.”

  “Then tell me something else. Where have they been? What are they doing? What are they looking for? I need a lead of some kind.”

  “I know the name of a ship they were trying to find. I’m not sure why it’s important. It might have something to do with this weapon, I don’t know.”

  “Give me the name.”

  “It is a human ship. The Arcane Storm.”

  That was all the confirmation Calvin needed. He and his crew were definitely going after the Arcane Storm. But, if the Rahajiim hadn’t stolen the ship—who had?

  “Calvin,” Tristan spoke up suddenly and shot him a frank look. “May we speak in private?”

  Calvin found this request odd but decided to grant it. After all, Tristan had the freshest leads on the Arcane Storm’s whereabouts.

  ***

  “We have to go after that ship,” the lycan said as soon as the door closed.

  Calvin took a seat behind his desk and looked up at the Remorii with conflicted feelings. In many ways Tristan represented the trust he had in Raidan—cautious but genuine—and he’d saved Calvin’s life back on Aleator. But he was still Remorii. One of the most dangerous creatures in the galaxy. “I know,” he said.

  “And I know where we should start looking,” said Tristan. “Echo Three.”

  “Where is that?”

  “It’s inside the DMZ,” Tristan said and his eyes widened. “But we have to keep information about our search extremely quiet.”

  Calvin raised an eyebrow. “How quiet?” He hadn’t planned to broadcast to the universe what he was up to, but he had no reason to distrust the crew. Men and women who’d chosen to remain behind. Many of whom had literally mutinied on his behalf.

  “Tell no one else. Keep everything on a need to know basis only.”

  “And my bridge officers?” he thought of Miles, Sarah, and Shen. There was no one in the galaxy he trusted more.

  “Tell them nothing.” Tristan folded his arms.

  Calvin thought this an odd request. “Three of my analysts already know what we’re looking for, plus anyone they’ve told. And I must inform Summers, Pellew, and Alex where we’re going, especially if it’s inside the DMZ.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they’ll expect to be told, but more importantly…” Calvin wasn’t sure how to sugarcoat it so he just said what he felt. “I don’t fully trust you, Tristan, and I want their perspectives, along with any information they may have regarding our destination.” He also hoped Alex would know something more about Echo Three—thinking perhaps the Advent had a file on the mysterious location—and Calvin wanted Summers and Pellew there to help him judge whether or not Alex was telling the truth, when pressed with further questions. That and he doubted he could elicit their cooperation if he kept them in the dark, especially Summers. He did not want to fight her at every turn again.

  “Fine. But after that, we put a lid on this.”

  “Why does our destination have to be a secret?”

  “Raidan may trust you, but the Organization doesn’t trust your whole ship. Please grant me this one request.”

  Calvin thought about it for a moment. “If I do, I want something in return.”

  “Name it.”

  “I want your guarantee that you will share all your best intelligence with me. And any time I have a question for Raidan, or the Organization, you will send it, and keep sending it, until I get an answer.”

  “Agreed.”

  “In that case I’ll keep this information need-to-know,” said Calvin. “But I won’t keep the rest of my crew in the dark forever.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “Now tell me more about your lead.”

  “I’ve heard rumors, whispers of rumors really,” said Tristan. “From my brothers in the clan. The Arcane Storm is in the DMZ. And carrying something important. I have no doubt that means it is carrying the isotome weapons.”

  “And you think it’s at Echo Three? What is special about Echo Three anyway?” A military ship such as the Nighthawk entering the DMZ was technically an act of war against the Rotham Republic. It wouldn’t be the first time Calvin had violated the agreement, Intel Wing ordered stealth ships into the DMZ every now and then. But the utmost discretion was needed.

  “Echo Three is my home,” said Tristan. “It’s an asteroid colony around the QH-212 star.”

  “And the Arcane Storm is there?”

  “No, but some of my people claim to have seen it. We must go there and question the one who will know.”

  Chapter 7

  Their faces were mere echoes now. Nimoux remembered the woman’s blonde hair but not many of her other features. As for the two men, they were even less clear in his mind. One had been short with brown hair, the other was average height and a bit overweight. The subtle details were long gone, but what was clear as day—what he could never forget—was the horror in their eyes. He knew what it was when he saw it. He’d felt it too. The cold, brutal realization that one was about to die. And at the hands of a friend, no less. He recalled the firm resistance of the trigger as he curled his finger around it and pulled. The slight blowback. The sound of the reports splitting the air. Shot after shot. For each victim it had been the same. One in the head, two in the chest. Nine bullets. Three corpses.

  They hadn’t deserved this end. They’d been innocent people. And he hadn’t delighted in giving it to them. In fact, it was the worst thing he’d ever done. The guilt haunted him every day since. Tormenting him severely, in ways no one knew and few could understand. It consumed him. Entered his thoughts. Invaded his dreams. Always on the back of his mind. Stalking him. Even years later the feeling hadn’t lessened, and he knew he’d never forgive himself. Nor should he. He fantasized for the millionth time about placing the barrel of his sidearm against his own head and squeezing the trigger. Such a small action on such a tiny piece of metal. And yet maybe, afterwards, he would finally have peace.

  The communication panel chirped, startling him out of his meditation. He took one final deep breath then uncurled his legs and stood up. Stretching briefly as he came out of the lotus position. He wanted to reach for his tea and ignore the comm panel, but knew he couldn’t.

  “Yes what is it?” asked Nimoux.

  “Notifying you as you requested, sir. We will be dropping out of alteredspace in a few minutes,” said the on-duty ops officer.

  “Thank you, I’m on my way.”

  He exited his quarters on deck five and took the nearest elevator to the bridge. When he arrived, a crewman blew a whistle announcing “Captain on the bridge.”

  Nimoux moved immediately to the command position and relieved his XO, a salty, no-nonsense forty-year old man who’d thrown himself into his military career to escape two ex-wives and several unwanted children. Despite his domestic issues, or perhaps because of them, the commander had made a reputation for himself as the most hardworking and enthusiastic member of the crew. Nimoux was glad to have him.

  “ETA?” asked Nimoux.

  “Forty-five seconds.”

  It was time to see what all the fuss was about. He could only guess at what they’d find there. But one thing was certain, Intel Wing wanted it swept under the rug. The IWS Desert Eagle was to clear the area before continuing on mission. Fortunately it wouldn’t prove much of a delay; their destination was also the last known location of their quarry.

  “Entering the system in three,” his pilot counted down, “two, one. We are now in Abia System.” The window filled with stars and, in the distance, the light of the local sun could be seen just larger than the rest.

  “Ops, what do we see?” he asked, gazing out the window at the nothingness.

  “Commencing deep scan,” replied his ops officer. “Preliminary report, no ship signatures, however there are some large objects near the planet.”

  “In orbit?”

  “Negative, the only thing in orbit appears to be the station which is powered down a
nd unresponsive. If anyone is still onboard—they’re dead by now.”

  “What are these objects?”

  “Looks to be… debris, sir. Destroyed starships.”

  Nimoux felt his heart rate accelerate but he remained a disciplined calm. “Helm, bring us in closer; Defense, keep our stealth system engaged but standby to power weapons and shields; Ops, let me know once the high-intensity scan is complete.”

  “Aye sir.”

  Before leaving Capital World, the Desert Eagle had been re-fitted with a new type of scanner. It was only a prototype, but had enormous potential. It increased the strength of the Desert Eagle’s already state-of-the-art scopes by a factor of five. Allegedly it could totally negate the best stealth technology, which was why it had been rush installed onto the Desert Eagle. The Nighthawk couldn’t hide from them.

  “Scan complete,” said the ops officer. “I confirm that there are no other ships in the system. As for the debris, it looks like destroyed warships. Some of it is imperial in design, others are alien. Most likely match: Rotham battleships.”

  “Rotham?” It made no sense for foreign warships to be so deep inside Imperial space. Apparently there had been a battle here—one that Intel Wing and the Fleet had successfully kept quiet.

  “Can you identify which Imperial ships were destroyed?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Coming about,” said the pilot.

  The Desert Eagle maneuvered closer and Nimoux caught his first glimpse of a giant piece of debris. The burned out husk rotated eerily in space, the corpse of a ship that had, probably quite recently, been home to several hundred souls. Nimoux put his hand over his heart. These were Imperial citizens who’d paid the ultimate price. Perhaps that long list of missing starships isn’t so long after all… He wondered how many of the disappeared ships had made Abia their final resting place.

  “Incoming transmission from Intel Wing,” said the pilot. “Highest priority.”