“What kind of things?” asked Calvin.
“Dangerous things.”
“Not helpful, Grady.”
“I’m not saying Raidan stole those things, but it is quite a coincidence that they all happened to disappear about the same time his people were on Aleator One.”
“Grady, listen to me,” said Calvin. “What things specifically?”
“I’ll forward you a list,” he said. “Components and ingredients mostly.”
“For...?”
Grady cleared his throat but didn’t answer.
Calvin took Grady’s evasiveness as either a sign that he was honor bound not to share the specific cargo of his pet traders—no doubt illegal substances—or else the missing cargo implied something extremely deadly. Perhaps it was both. But nothing would have shocked Calvin. Whatever it was certainly wasn’t as lethal as isotome weapons. Unless...
“Grady, was anyone carrying Isotome?”
“No. A lot of chemicals mostly. No Isotome.”
Calvin raised an eyebrow. Just then the list of ingredients arrived and Calvin began skimming over it. Grady hadn’t been kidding. There were some seriously strange and dangerous compounds on the list. Most notably cultures of biological toxins and deadly viruses. There were several expensive, controlled chemical compounds as well. “It looks like whoever took all of this is creating chemical and biological weapons. Some of this stuff could have a severe effect on an alien planet’s eco-system.”
“I thought you’d be interested.”
“And you say all of this disappeared about the time Raidan’s people were on Aleator One?”
“Yes. But you didn’t hear it from me.”
What would Raidan want with biological and chemical weapons of mass destruction?
“Thank you, Grady. I appreciate your letting me know.”
Grady smiled. “Always glad to help a friend of the family.”
He signed off.
Very odd... This new twist was nothing compared to the menacing isotome weapons, but it wasn’t something Calvin could dismiss. Such weapons violated the terms of every international peace agreement and, if used correctly, could result in the devastation of whole colonies. Casualties could be in the hundreds of millions. Maybe even billions.
It alarmed Calvin that such dangerous substances were floating around the black market and could make their way to Aleator, but the thought that Raidan was acquiring them and building weapons was of greatest concern. What did he want with them? Did he intend to use them? Was it payment for something else? Didn’t he appreciate the dangers behind it? And the ethical considerations? Or was this an order from someone higher up in the Organization?
Perhaps Raidan was being framed. Calvin couldn’t rule anything out. He pressed the switch on his desk and asked for Tristan to come in. He unlocked the door remotely, so the lycan could enter, and Tristan was there in under a minute.
“What is it, Captain?”
Calvin waited for the door to slide shut before speaking, wanting their conversation to remain private. “I need you to be completely open with me.”
Tristan raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“Is Raidan assembling weapons?”
“What do you mean?”
Calvin didn’t interpret Tristan’s response as cryptic and evasive so much as a failure on his part to ask a clear enough question. “Come here,” he said.
The lycan sauntered over to Calvin’s desk. “Yes?”
“Look over this list of ingredients,” said Calvin. “All of this went missing from Aleator about the time the Harbinger was there. If properly assembled, those components could make some extremely deadly weapons.”
“And you think Raidan took those ingredients, and that he’s using them to make weapons?” Tristan cocked his head, looking genuinely intrigued. Calvin noted that the werewolf hadn’t produced a denial.
“Well, is he or isn’t he?”
“I know of no such weapon,” said Tristan. “But I’ll be happy to ask Raidan about it next time I speak with him. If you’d like.”
Calvin supposed that was the best he could do for now—one thing at a time. But, if it turned out to be true, and Raidan did plan to employ a weapon that could have such catastrophic effects on random innocent people, not to mention life in general—Calvin knew he couldn’t stand by and watch it happen. Nothing was worth such extreme measures. Not even the Empire.
Surely Raidan understood that.
Chapter 15
After giving it a great deal of thought, and bouncing between several ideas, Shen decided how he was going to do it. He was going to see Sarah in person, and talk to her. He’d considered writing a letter and handing it to her, or—even more timidly—sticking a letter to her door. Or sending her an electronic note. Perhaps even signing it anonymously.
However, though such removed tactics had a definite appeal, he knew they’d never satisfy him. And they went against everything he’d decided about himself while he’d been recovering in the burn ward, feeling depressed and useless. He was going to make some changes and become a new man. That meant he had to be open, and honest, and put his whole heart into it. He should trust himself. Not be afraid to look Sarah in the eyes and say what he really felt. He saw her every day and spoke to her about lots of things, why did this have to be any harder?
“Sarah, you are beautiful. I really like you,” he said to the mirror. An obese, unconfident face looked back at him, unconvinced.
“No, no, not like that,” said Miles. The taller man sat on the chair in Shen’s quarters, his beefy arms were folded. Though Miles was in every way his intellectual inferior, Shen envied the other’s ability to be himself and look so relaxed. Seeing himself in the mirror, Shen was reminded how stiff and awkward he was in these kind of situations. As he gave himself an honest once-over, he sincerely doubted a woman as lovely and beautiful as Sarah could ever see anything in him. How could anyone?
No! Mustn’t think like that! He reminded himself. He had to believe. Even if it was fake. Even if all his confidence was predicated on a total lie, or an absurdity. He had to be confident. Because women like confidence. He had to at least convey that he had some. And remind himself that he wasn’t doing this for Sarah. Not really. He was doing it for himself. Even if Sarah rejected him—an inevitability he tried very hard not to obsess over, or even consider—he had to believe that this was the right thing. How could he respect himself if he couldn’t be who he wanted to be? If he continued spending time with Sarah every day, working side by side, pretending to be simply friends. Pretending that was all he wanted. How could he continue watching her flirt with others, and date them, knowing that he never even took a shot. He had to at least try.
“You listening, pretty boy?” asked Miles. Shen turned, not quite sure what his friend was talking about—he’d been rambling for the past few seconds and Shen had tuned him out.
“Pretty boy?” Shen glanced at his reflection again. Nothing could be more untrue.
“Yeah,” said Miles with a big smile. “If you want the ladies to like you, you gotta talk big. You know. Brag. Let ‘em know how big a deal you are. That, compared to you, they’re nothing. That they’re lucky to even be talking to you.”
Shen raised an eyebrow. “Really?” He doubted it. That didn’t make sense. What was more off-putting than an arrogant braggart who looked down on everyone else? But then again, as Shen had observed, women often were most attracted to men who were strong—even pushy—abrasive, forward, and extremely self-assured. Perhaps there was something to Miles’ theory. If so... what chance did Shen have?
“Like this,” said Miles, he cleared his throat. “Hey baby, you got your tickets to the gun show yet?” He flexed his arms. “Oh yeah, that’s beautiful.” He kissed his right bicep. “Your turn.”
Shen just stared at him. That was the stupidest display he’d ever seen. Did women really go for this garbage? Really? If so, were they even worth having? “I don’t think this is my—”<
br />
“Nonsense,” said Miles. He stood up and walked over to Shen, slapping him once on the back. “Believe in yourself. Have a little faith.”
“Okay...” Shen flexed his arms momentarily, then stopped. He felt too ridiculous. And his arms were even less impressive than Miles’ so-called guns. “I can’t.”
“Of course not,” said Miles. “That’s my thing. Come up with your own thing. How about poetry? Women go nuts for that crap.”
That did sound more reasonable. Though still insincere coming from him. “Sarah, you are so lovely. Your beauty is like stars heavenly... your eyes...” he paused, trying to think of what next to say. Perhaps if he planned it out in advance it would be a lot smoother, but the whole enterprise felt cheap and fraudulent. Why couldn’t women just say ‘Yes, I am attracted to you. Thanks for asking. Let’s have a relationship.’ Romance was so unscientific and absurd...
“No, no, no,” bellowed Miles. “Not like that. Like this,” he cleared his throat again. “Oh my pretty lady, you are so sexy, you’ve got that awesome body, that is so sexy. Won’t you be mine? Let’s not waste time!—You know, something like that.”
“You just rhymed sexy with sexy.”
“So?”
“And mine doesn’t rhyme with time.”
“Sure it does.”
“No it doesn’t,” said Shen. He again wished he’d gotten Calvin involved instead of Miles. But he hadn’t wanted to burden Calvin with some trivial social drama; that guy had enough on his plate already, and Shen was a little afraid that Calvin would have laughed in his face. Probably not out loud. But maybe in his head. Shen could handle mocking from Miles, Miles was an idiot. But not from Calvin. Calvin’s respect meant too much.
“Okay, okay, so maybe poetry’s not your thing,” said Miles. He scratched his head. “You got any chocolate candy?”
“A little cliché, don’t you think?” He’d scoured all the sites he could find on the network that had dating advice and learned that chocolates were often seen as an uncreative, empty gesture. He needed to do something that stood out. Made him unique and memorable. Showcased his personality…
“Not chocolates for Sarah,” said Miles. “Chocolates for me. I think better when I’ve got some sugar in me.”
“Sorry, no,” said Shen. He’d thrown out all his junk food when he started his diet and exercise program. He’d been at it two full days and had only cheated three times—by his standard this was progress.
“Ooh, you could make a nice dinner,” said Miles.
“Yeah, maybe,” said Shen. That actually wasn’t a bad idea. He wasn’t an experienced cook but he could look up a recipe and follow it, it was basically an algorithm—right? He could make Sarah something uniquely delicious, maybe even something she’d never had before. Then, when the moment was right, he could admit his feelings for her. “Do you think she would go for that?”
“Huh?” asked Miles. “Oh, no. No. No.” he waved a dismissive hand. “Again, I didn’t mean for her. I meant dinner for me. So I can help you think of ideas—I think better on a full stomach.”
“I like the dinner idea.”
“Great, what’ve you got?” Miles rubbed his hands eagerly.
“I’m not making you dinner,” said Shen. “But I might do that for Sarah. That’s actually a pretty good idea.”
Miles looked disappointed. “No that’s a terrible idea. If you give a woman food, she’ll just think you’re calling her fat.”
“Really?” that didn’t sound right to Shen. “Are you sure?”
Miles nodded. “Oh yeah, very sure. Remember who you’re talking to, I’m the king.” He flexed his left arm and patted the bicep. To his credit his arms were big, but the lack of definition made Shen suspect they were more fat than muscle.
“Have you even had a girlfriend before?” asked Shen, realizing this probably should have been his first question.
“Oh yeah, loads of them,” said Miles.
Shen’s eyes narrowed. “Name one.”
“Brenda,” Miles replied quickly.
“Brenda?” asked Shen. “Isn’t that your mother’s name?”
“How about that,” said Miles. “What a coincidence. Actually their names are spelled different, so... but yeah, she was just one of my many girlfriends. I broke up with her years ago. Probably had like forty since her. And no one’s ever broken up with me. How ‘bout that? Once they get a taste of the Miler, they can’t quit. I actually have to beat them off with a stick. Literally.”
“The Miler?” Shen cracked a smile. Realizing now that Miles was just as inept and inexperienced in the dating realm as he was. Maybe even more so.
“Oh hell yeah. A nickname like that will get you laid. Guaran-freaking-teed! We should pick one for you.”
“That’s alright…”
“Ooh, how about, the Shen?”
“Yeah... I think I’m going to go with the dinner idea. Thanks, Miles, you’ve been very helpful. I can take it from here.”
“This one time I took Linda to this lake,” Miles put special emphasis on the name, and looked proud to have come up with it. “And we went fishing. And we made out on the boat. And she wouldn’t stop making out with me. Even when I was like, ‘Stop it,’ she still wouldn’t quit.”
“Yeah, that’s great, Miles,” said Shen. “Now remember, this dinner I’m planning for Sarah is our little secret, okay?”
“Oh yeah, mum’s the word.”
***
Calvin entered the Nighthawk’s mess hall.
It was small with only three tables and an occupancy limit of around twelve people. But, because the entirety of the crew was only about sixty people, and Calvin allowed his officers to take food from the mess hall and eat elsewhere, the place was often vacant. Today it wasn’t. A ginger-haired, fair-skinned doctor sat at one of the tables making slow progress on a bowl of exotic fruit and some kind of Polarian mush. She looked up at him as he entered, and smiled.
“Hello, Calvin.”
“Hello, Rain.” Calvin moved over to the food shelves and picked through their contents. Much of the stored foodstuffs were meals ready to eat, but they’d taken on some fresh produce and—accommodating the Polarian newcomers, a variety of Polarian food as well—none of which looked even remotely appetizing. The Nighthawk had no dedicated chef, so officers were instructed to serve themselves. The ship carried enough stores, and docked frequently, so rationing food had never been necessary.
“Haven’t seen you in a whole three hours.”
“Yeah, how ‘bout that,” said Calvin. He’d tried to keep his visits with Rain short—it embarrassed him to have to go to her to get his daily, strictly controlled, dose of equarius. Rain always seemed to manage to keep him there for a few extra minutes with some idle gossip or chit chat. Calvin didn’t mind her company, Rain was pleasant enough. But he didn’t like the feeling of vulnerability he got when he was in that situation. The sooner he was permanently free of equarius, the better.
“Try the alien fruit, it’s quite delicious.”
“Maybe another time,” said Calvin. He selected a banana which he sliced over a bowl of cereal and milk. He grabbed a water bottle to drink.
“Suit yourself,” said Rain. “Come sit by me; tell me how you’re doing.”
Calvin took the seat opposite her and, after taking a few mouthfuls, answered her with a question. “What do you want to know?”
“Is the treatment effective?” Rain’s eyes were the most stunning shade of pale blue, and they seemed to play with his.
“So far,” he said. That was mostly true. He did feel cravings that came and went, and there were minor side-effects of taking the drug again, but all-in-all, he was feeling a lot better than he had. His condition felt very manageable.
“It’s probably too early to know for sure how effective the treatment is,” she said. “So if you have any severe side-effects, or experience more withdrawal symptoms, make sure to let me know right away.”
Calvin felt
embarrassed. He didn’t like having this conversation, the two of them candidly discussing his vulnerability, it made him extremely uncomfortable. Something Rain seemed to have no trouble picking up on.
“You have nothing to be ashamed of.”
“So anyway,” said Calvin. “How are things in the infirmary? Have you begun inoculating the Polarians?”
“Yes, I have,” she said. “And they’ve been surprisingly cooperative.” She stirred her mush with her spoon. By this point it was mostly gone and Calvin suspected Rain had no more appetite. But that didn’t stop him from wolfing down his food in front of her.
“That’s nice,” he said in between bites.
“It’s really fascinating, isn’t it?” she asked.
“What is?”
“When we went into the stars, humanity I mean, religion and spiritualism seemed to fade away into the background.”
“It makes sense,” said Calvin. “Mythologies based on superstition were replaced by scientific explanations and empirical observation.”
“Is it really as simple as that?” asked Rain. “The Polarians became increasingly devout in their faith as they reached for the stars and developed scientifically. In space they found degrees of spirituality that they didn’t have before. Why would space exploration and scientific progress have the opposite effect on them?” she seemed genuinely curious. Calvin, however, didn’t care that much.
“I guess it’s a mystery,” he said.
She chuckled softly. “Not one that keeps you up at night, I can tell.”
“Not usually, no.” By this point, he was finished with his bowl of cereal and wanted some more, so he stood up and walked over to get a refill.
“Calvin, I’d like to hear more about you,” said Rain.
“Making some kind of medical profile?” he asked idly, now slicing up another banana.
“No, nothing like that,” said Rain. “I just feel like... well… I’d like to get to know you better.”
Only then did it occur to him what was happening. She was attracted to him. This caught him by surprise.
The Phoenix Rising Page 17
