The Phoenix Rising

by Richard L. Sanders

  “Connect us.”

  ***

  Summers sat in the command position and monitored the bridge. It was again White Shift and they were due to cross over into the DMZ any minute now.

  Calvin had been alerted and was allegedly on his way. Summers half-expected him not to show up. If there was a single constant in the universe, it was Calvin’s incessant need to be anywhere but the bridge during his watch. The others accepted this as normal—even though they were required to be at their posts—but Summers did not approve. She felt it sent a bad message to the crew, as if implying, “my time is more important than yours,” and was genuinely surprised it hadn’t had a demoralizing effect.

  The elevator door slid open and Calvin entered. “Okay, what’ve we got?” he asked. Tristan was with him.

  Summers relinquished the command position and took the XO’s seat. Calvin moved to the center of the bridge but remained standing. Tristan approached the helm and a look of obvious discomfort came over Sarah.

  “Crossing into the DMZ in two minutes, fifteen seconds,” said Sarah. Her squeamishness at the werewolf’s proximity could not be heard in her voice. Summers recognized it for what it was, though—and didn’t blame Sarah. Tristan represented one of the shadiest and most dangerous forces in the galaxy—Raidan.

  “Thank you, Sarah,” said Calvin. “Once we cross over, follow Tristan’s instructions on new course and heading.”

  “Yes, sir,” she replied.

  Summers watched Tristan suspiciously. She trusted him about as far as she could throw him. Perhaps less. For that matter, she didn’t really trust anyone anymore. The horrific sight of the Fifth Fleet starships firing on each other—a slaughter created by commanders she had known personally—it haunted her dreams, tormented her waking thoughts, and proved to her that the proper order of the galaxy was deeply upset. And if she had any purpose left at all, it was to fight and struggle to restore the Empire to what it should be. And if that meant working with Calvin, and tolerating Raidan’s lackey ,Tristan, then so be it.

  Calvin was, in his own strange and naïve way, a good man—loath though she was to admit it. However, he was arrogant, impulsive, and vulnerable to manipulation. Therefore Summers made it her personal duty to make sure Calvin didn’t become Raidan’s puppet.

  “Crossing into the DMZ in five seconds,” said Sarah.

  “Set Condition Two,” said Calvin. “And engage the stealth system.”

  “Aye, aye,” replied Miles. The man who managed the defense post was a proven idiot on every intellectual level, and demonstrated to Summers that the human race was either not intelligently designed—or else the designer loved to screw around. But even she had to admit that, in very limited, but crucial, circumstances, Miles was useful. Back in Abia, he’d shown defense aptitude that surpassed even Summers’ targeting skill. And she was a former defense officer.

  “... two, one. We are now in violation of the non-aggression treaty,” said Sarah.

  “Not my first time,” said Calvin. “All stop.”

  “Answering all stop.”

  The view out the window filled with stars. There was no obvious local sun and Summers guessed they were in open space, in the middle of nowhere.

  “Tristan,” Calvin motioned toward the Remorii. “Your turn.”

  “I consider it an honor,” Tristan said with a grin that gave Summers the chills. “Now, pilot,” he said, “set course for the QH-212 star.”

  Sarah looked to Calvin, who nodded. She entered the course and Summers took a moment to input the star’s name in her console, wanting to retrieve what info she could about it. After all, that destination had been so secretive only she and a handful of others had been allowed to know what it was. What she found was that it was an empty star with no colonizable planets or known bases around it. An odd place to be going.

  “Course laid in, sir,” said Sarah.

  “Take us out. Ninety percent potential.”

  “Aye, sir. Commencing jump.”

  A moment later the stars vanished into blackness and the ship was again underway.

  “ETA?” asked Calvin.

  “Six hours,” replied Sarah.

  “If you need me, I’ll be in my office,” he said. Then, without so much as a pause, he left.

  Summers decided to follow him. “You have the deck, Mister Iwate,” she said.

  “Aye, sir,” the ops officer acknowledged her.

  Summers entered the CO’s office and the door closed behind her. Calvin was just taking his seat and looked surprised to see her.

  “Something I can do for you, Summers?” he asked.

  “Yes, I’d like to have a word.”

  Calvin looked curious and gestured for her to continue.

  “Why are we going to the QH-212 star?”

  Calvin seemed confused. “You know as well as I do that we’re chasing after the Arcane Storm.”

  “Because?”

  “Because it is our best lead in hunting down the isotome weapons. You were there at the intelligence meeting, you know everything I do. Am I to understand that you think there’s something more important for us to worry about than a weapon that could wipe out entire civilizations?”

  Summers sensed Calvin felt threatened by her unexpected questioning. It was time to get to the point. “No, that is the worst possible threat,” she agreed. “But how can we be sure that any of it, the Arcane Storm, the QH-212 star, and so on, is anything but a red herring? Or that Tristan isn’t using you—and all of us—for some ulterior purpose that Raidan wants achieved?”

  Calvin leaned back in his chair and placed his hands behind his head. “I can’t know, in the strictest sense. But it is my only lead, so I have to follow it.”

  “I understand that, and I agree,” said Summers. “But I want to know one thing.”

  “And what is that?”

  “How far are you willing to go?”

  Calvin frowned. “I don’t understand the question.”

  Summers wasn’t going to let him dodge so easily. She needed to know that there was some kind of line in Calvin’s mind that he was unwilling to cross. A limit to what Tristan, and by extension Raidan, could make him do. Only then could she support him. “I need to know that you aren’t going to let yourself be led around by the nose, doing whatever Tristan and Raidan ask.” She was unaccustomed to addressing her superior officer in such a bold and challenging way, it defied all of her training and instincts, but somehow dealing with Calvin was different. She didn’t see a superior when she looked in his eyes. She saw a young, well-intentioned boy, who was not as bright as he thought he was.

  “I assure you, Commander,” said Calvin—the use of her title rather than her given name was the appropriate protocol but very unusual for Calvin, a sign that he was irritated by the sudden questioning, “I expect results from Tristan. If his intelligence proves worthless, then I will have difficulty trusting anything he says in the future.”

  It wasn’t much of an answer, but it was something. And Summers had achieved what she’d wanted—to plant a new seed of doubt in Calvin’s mind. She knew the question of Tristan’s motives would haunt Calvin now, even if he wasn’t prepared to admit it to her. “I—”

  She was interrupted by the beep of the comm panel.

  “Very sorry,” said Calvin as he tapped the button. “What is it?”

  “You’d better get in here, sir,” said Sarah. “Shen says there’s something here you should see.”

  “On my way.”

  Summers followed Calvin out the door and back onto the bridge. Shen looked flustered at the ops post. The command position was vacant. Tristan was still on the bridge but he stood off to the side, like an unnecessary, unwanted observer.

  “What is it?” asked Calvin, approaching the ops station. Summers followed.

  “Look at this log,” said Shen. He pointed to a series of entries that Summers couldn’t quite understand—she had no ops training and the console wasn’t exactly user friend
ly.

  “What does it say?” asked Calvin. The series of numbers was clearly no more transparent to him.

  “Our ship sent a broadband kataspace message to Gemini System a few hours ago.”

  “What?” asked Calvin incredulously.

  “That’s right,” said Shen. “I’m guessing that message was not approved by you?”

  “No it most certainly was not.” Calvin kept his composure but Summers could see the distress in his eyes, it even leaked into his voice as he turned to Tristan. “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded.

  “I know of no communication to Gemini,” replied the Remorii coolly.

  “You didn’t contact Mira Pellew or anyone else?” asked Calvin suspiciously.

  “No. Why would I?”

  “If I may,” said Shen. “It looks like the message was designated to target Intel Wing channels. So I don’t believe Tristan could have sent the message, unless he knows more about our operations than we thought.”

  “Lockout all outbound communications at once,” said Calvin. He and Shen then used their respective command-codes to prevent all future outgoing communications, though the ship could still receive messages. “Damn, I should have done this sooner,” said Calvin, looking annoyed with himself.

  “I appreciate your speaking up on my behalf, operations officer,” said Tristan, now walking over to Shen. “But unfortunately you are circumstantially the prime suspect.”

  “Just what the hell are you implying, werewolf?” demanded Shen.

  “Classic guilt-driven over-compensation,” said Tristan. “Tisk. Tisk. And very convenient that you happened to discover the communication first. No doubt thinking that would throw suspicion off of you. And clearly you had all the technical knowledge and ability—the means and opportunity—to contact Intel Wing.”

  “But not the motive,” said Shen.

  “I could think of several,” said Tristan.

  “Okay, enough,” snapped Calvin. “Shen is loyal to me and I won’t tolerate any accusations against him. You see those bandages?” Calvin pointed to Shen’s wounded shoulder and upper arm. “He got those burns fighting by my side. Questioning his loyalty is not acceptable.”

  Summers didn’t know Shen particularly well but based on his proven, almost zealous, loyalty to Calvin, she agreed it was unlikely that he would betray them.

  “If you say so,” said Tristan with a curious expression. “But then, Captain, you are forced to explain how someone contacted Intel Wing, and who it was. I think it’s self-evident why they did it.”

  “Yes,” said Calvin. “There is a mole on this ship. Someone stayed behind to relay intelligence to Intel Wing.”

  “Whether or not it is the operations officer, a traitor is in our midst,” said Tristan.

  “I know who it was!” yelled Miles, turning his chair to face the center of the bridge. “It was her,” he pointed at Summers. Swiftly reminding her why she hated him the most.

  “No, Summers doesn’t know the Intel Wing channels either,” said Calvin, quickly dismissing the accusation. “Besides, she wouldn’t betray us,” he looked her in the eyes, as if testing her. “Isn’t that right?”

  “If I had wanted this ship captured, I would have contacted the navy,” she said, folding her arms. “And I wouldn’t be here.”

  “There, you see,” said Calvin.

  Miles looked at her suspiciously. “I’ve got my eye on you,” he said. “And not just because you have a smoking body.”

  Summers flushed with annoyance but decided not to dignify Miles’ idiocy with a response. She was beginning to realize that Miles was the type of fool who thrived on attention, and not giving it to him was the easiest way to deflate his wanton displays of public stupidity.

  “With the communications lockout,” said Calvin, looking intensely in thought, “he—or she—shouldn’t be able to relay new information to Intel Wing. The mole shouldn’t have knowledge that our destination is the QH-212 star—that was a closely guarded secret—so all we can expect is that Intel Wing knows we’re in the DMZ. That’s still a huge region of space.”

  “But the traitor could hurt us in other ways, for instance sabotaging our ship,” said Tristan.

  Calvin nodded. “Shen help me draw up a plan to secure all critical systems. I will then ask Pellew to setup a rotation of soldiers to guard those systems at all times.”

  “And what is your plan for finding the traitor?” asked Tristan.

  “One thing at a time,” said Calvin.

  Chapter 11

  “What is it?” asked Calvin. It was the second time since they arrived in the DMZ that he’d been summoned to the bridge. “Why are we at condition one?”

  “We’ve got something on our scopes. Looks like a formation of three ships on an intercept course, moving fast,” said Shen.

  Calvin took his seat at the command position and turned to Miles. “What’s the status of our stealth system?”

  “Seems to be working fine,” said Miles with a shrug. “I don’t know how they can see us.”

  “It’s possible,” said Shen,” that the depth of our alteredspace jump is creating a detectable distortion.”

  “We’re at ninety percent now, how much do you recommend we scale it back?” Calvin didn’t want additional delay, but he wanted a battle even less.

  “Maybe eighty percent to be safe,” suggested Shen.

  “Do it.”

  “We’ll have to drop out of alteredspace to make the transition. When we do, the intercepting ships might be upon us.”

  “How can they see us if we’re in stealth when we drop out?” asked Calvin.

  “They might not be able to see us but they can see where the distortion stopped—if that is how they’re tracing us.”

  “Need I remind you all that our stealth system was next to worthless in Abia,” said Sarah. “Maybe they’re detecting us the same way.”

  “I doubt it,” said Shen. “The intercepting ships are crude in design. Probably pirate raiders. I doubt they have that kind of advanced technology.”

  “Sarah, can we outmaneuver them?”

  “Possibly,” said Sarah. “In an alteredspace state there isn’t much I can do, but I can adjust course and maybe skirt around them that way. But I can’t make any major adjustments without dropping out of alteredspace.”

  “Do what you can,” said Calvin.

  “Aye, aye.” Sarah’s fingers fluttered over the controls as she input a series of new waypoints for the ship to follow.

  “Is it working?” asked Calvin.

  “Negative,” said Shen. “The three ships have broken off and are coming at us from three distinct angles. Interdiction is unavoidable.”

  “Time to intercept?” asked Calvin.

  “Thirty seconds.”

  “I say we blow them away,” said Miles. “If they are no good pirates, we’d be doing the galaxy of favor.”

  “Give me a tactical analysis, Miles.”

  “Our ship has more armaments than anything they’re carrying, we can maneuver better in normal space, and our shields are stronger.”

  “But there are three of them,” said Sarah.

  “I didn’t say it wouldn’t be messy,” said Miles. “But I could kill them.”

  “Looks like we don’t have much choice,” said Calvin. He had no sympathy for pirate raiders, who preyed on hundreds of civilian transports every year—especially in the DMZ where military forces were scarce—but he didn’t want to enter an unnecessary engagement. Especially because it might result in loss of life on his ship, not to mention unnecessary damage. However, if a fight proved unavoidable, he would show no mercy.

  “Interception in ten seconds. What are your orders?” asked Shen.

  “Sarah, drop us out of alteredspace and then calculate a new jump path at only eighty percent depth. Miles, clear the ship for action. As soon as we drop into normal space, disengage the stealth system and raise the shields. Arm all weapons and get a target fix on them the
first moment you can.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Dropping out of alteredspace now,” said Sarah.

  “Why don’t we just keep the stealth system on and try to avoid the fight?” asked Summers.

  “Because if they drop right on top of us—and they do somehow detect us, we’d be defenseless. I’m hoping to scare them off by flashing our teeth,” said Calvin.

  “Three... two...”

  They waited, watching the projector display anxiously. Expecting to see three unforgiving raider ships converging on them.

  “One.”

  Nothing.

  “The raiders have shot right past us,” said Shen.

  “Like they didn’t even see us,” said Sarah happily.

  “Dammit!” said Miles.

  “They definitely saw us raise our shields,” said Shen. “Most likely they didn’t expect a craft our size to be a military vessel and as soon as they got a good look at us, they changed their minds.”

  “Dirty rotten cowards,” said Miles.

  Calvin was relieved.

  “On they go to prey on some other weaker victim,” lamented Summers.

  “It’s sad that there are people like that out there,” said Calvin. “But unfortunately we don’t have the time to hunt them down and bring them to justice. We have a weapon of mass annihilation to destroy.”

  “Course has been re-inputted,” said Sarah. “Standing by to engage alteredspace jump on your mark, eighty percent potential.”

  “Stand down to condition two, lower the shields, re-engage the stealth system, and then proceed with jump,” said Calvin.

  “Aye, aye.”

  “What is our new ETA?” he asked.

  “Just over two hours.”

  “Good, I’ll be in my office in the meantime. Hopefully that will be our last run in with pirates on this trip.”

  ***

  The unexpected communication from the Nighthawk had seemed sincere. Nimoux was unsure whether or not the agent claiming to be a mole for Intel Wing aboard Calvin’s ship was a ruse created by Calvin, or if the story was true—if there was a mole, he hadn’t made himself known to Intel Wing—but the mole’s suggestion that they head into the DMZ did correspond with Nimoux’s analysts’ best prediction of where the Nighthawk had gone. “Most likely in the direction of The Corridor,” they’d told him, after computing their best probability analysis.