“Are you alright, Savetnik?” asked Tristan.
Samil coughed and opened his eyes. He sat up and hit his chest a few times, then cleared his throat. “Yes,” he said hoarsely. “Yes I think I’m fine. Help me up.”
Tristan helped Samil to his feet. Once standing, he looked up and spotted Calvin. His face brightened and he smiled. Calvin didn’t. Neither looked away.
“My dear boy...” said Samil.
Calvin folded his arms. Not sure what to say; he held his tongue.
“Come now,” Samil opened his arms. “Give your old man a hug. It’s been ages!”
Calvin didn’t budge, nor did he open his arms. When it was clear he wasn’t coming, Samil relented and lowered his arms. “I suppose I don’t blame you. I wasn’t always the best father.”
Calvin’s eyes narrowed. What a profound understatement. While his father had never physically beaten him or his mother, he had deeply wounded them emotionally. His disappearance made Calvin’s mother cry for weeks on end, and she never quite came to terms with his absence. Calvin would never forgive his father for that.
“Still, I’m so glad to see you. How did you find me?”
“I’m not here for you,” said Calvin icily. “I’m here to see Savetnik.”
“That is me.”
“I know. But I need you to understand that this meeting is professional. We have some questions for you that you will answer, outside of them, you and I have nothing to discuss. Is that clear?”
“Crystal... son,” said Samil, a touch of sorrow in his voice.
“Good. Now, have you heard of the Arcane Storm?”
He looked at Calvin shrewdly. Then glanced at Tristan. “Close the door.” Calvin doubted the thin wooden door would really prevent the keen ears of a strigoi from eavesdropping, if one was near. But he humored Samil anyway and nodded for Tristan to shut the door. Once it was closed Samil answered Calvin’s question. “Yes, it’s a ship. What about it?”
Calvin raised an eyebrow. “I think you know why it’s of interest to us. But I’ll humor you this once. The ship disappeared and we believe it is carrying isotome weapons which can destroy stars. That’s why it’s of interest to us. Last we heard, the Enclave had possession of the ship. Know anything about that?”
Calvin watched his father’s facial expressions very carefully. In many ways it was an older version of his own face, so he was sure he could spot the tell-tale signs of insincerity.
“Yes, the ship was in the possession of the Enclave,” said Samil. “And it is carrying isotome weapons. That is true. But I don’t think they can actually destroy stars—surely that must be an exaggeration.”
“They can,” said Calvin flatly. “Who is in possession of the ship? And what do you know about the weapons?”
“You realize that by telling you any of this, I’m putting my own life in danger,” said Samil.
Calvin’s eyes narrowed. So typical, only concerned about himself. From what Calvin could tell, his father had lived his entire life—and made and lost his fortunes—by watching his back, making sure he got paid, and collecting favors from others. Motivated by pure self-interest, and nothing more. “I think you owe me this much, Father.”
Samil seemed to think about it. “Alright. Just so long as you understand that I’m doing this for you. I’m putting my ass on the line here and I don’t have to. I’m not even asking to be paid or rewarded for it, so please… at least consider having some gratitude.”
Calvin balked. “Gratitude? Really? That depends on the quality of your information. Now tell us what you know!”
“The ship was lent to a woman from Titan Three. She’s from some group called the Phoenix Ring.”
“What do you know about the Phoenix Ring?”
“Just that they seem pretty well-connected and have their fingers in almost every pie. That’s all I know.”
“What’s the woman’s name?”
“I don’t know. But I can describe her. She’s young, maybe a little over thirty years old, blond hair, blue eyes, and pale skin. She’s thin too, maybe even a little too thin, and she’s got a deep voice for a woman. I only met her once and we didn’t speak much.”
“She sounds human.”
“She is.”
“Even though Titan Three is a Polarian system?”
“That’s right. I don’t know if she’s originally from there, but that’s where she would take the isotome after the Enclave gave it to her.”
“Wait. The Enclave gave her the isotome? Are you telling me the Enclave is responsible for mining the isotome from the Xenobe Nebula Region?”
“Yes, that’s right. The Enclave figured out how to extract it and, with the help of this woman, they were able to weaponize it. She’s a scientist of some kind and it’s all based on her theoretical work. The Enclave would mine the isotome, transfer it to her, she’d take it away to some secret plant on Titan Three—and there manufacture the isotome into weapons. She’d then sell the weapons back to the Enclave.”
“So the enclave has the weapons?”
“Yes,” said Samil. “For a little while longer.”
“Where are they? We have to destroy them,” said Calvin.
“That will be a lot easier said than done. Right now they are hidden away—somewhere extremely dangerous to go—awaiting sale to the Rotham Republic.”
“Why? What do they get out of it?”
“There are those in the Republic that wish to change the balance of power in the galaxy.”
“No, I mean why is the Enclave selling the weapons to the Rotham Republic? What do they get out of it?”
“Recognition, among other things,” said Samil. “The Enclave is tired of living in secret, and being treated like an ostracized disease in a galaxy unwilling to accept them. The Rotham government is prepared to offer them a home, public acknowledgement, all the food they could eat, money, ships, and most precious of all... citizenship.”
“I assume by food you mean—”
“Live prisoners, yeah,” said Samil.
“We have to stop them,” said Calvin. If those weapons fell into the hands of the Rotham Republic… it would undoubtedly lead to the most severe war the galaxy had ever seen, and possibly the extinction of the human species. “You have to help us.”
“There’s nothing I can do,” said Samil with an earnest shrug. “Other than tell you what I know. And hope the others never learn that I’ve betrayed their confidence.”
“You’re Savetnik, whatever the hell that means,” said Calvin. “Aren’t you some kind of leader or something? They seem to value what you think of them.”
“Savetnik is more like a guide, friend, and counselor than a leader. I live here with these night creatures in a kind of symbiosis, not because I really like them, or fit in. I stay informed, I get them things, share information, and so on. And they give me a safe place to live and see to my other needs as well.” He glanced down at the syringe. “But I do not lead them.”
Calvin was sure there was more to the story. The strigoi who’d called himself the First seemed pretty bent on remaining in Savetnik’s favor. “Then how do you know so much about the Arcane Storm and the isotome?”
“The Enclave used me to arrange the meeting.”
“I see,” said Calvin, still believing his father had more influence in the Enclave than he was admitting. “If you won’t help us, then at least tell us where the weapons are, so we can destroy them.”
“The weapons are stockpiled on the surface of Remus Nine—that’s where the sale is going down. As you must know, it’s a system that’s been removed from almost every star chart—”
“And surrounded by a mine field. It’s the birthplace of the Remorii, yes I know,” said Calvin. “I also know where it is.”
“But knowing where it is doesn’t give you even the tiniest sense of the danger that is on the planet’s surface,” said Samil with strong emphasis.
“That’s alright,” said Calvin, “we don’t have
to go down to the surface. We’ll wait for the buyer to arrive and the trade to happen, we’ll ambush the buyer on his way out and seize the cargo.”
“I don’t think so,” said Samil. “The buyer is sending a fleet of Rotham warships there to make sure the cargo is secured and safely taken back to Republic space.”
“A fleet that close to the Empire runs the risk of being spotted,” said Pellew.
“Yes, but they don’t dare risk losing the weapon. Or letting it fall into Imperial hands,” said Samil. “Besides, once they have the weapon, what will it matter if the Empire detects them violating the treaty? They will have a weapon that can darken stars and freeze planets.”
“The weapon can destroy stars,” said Calvin. “And wipeout whole systems.”
“So you claim.”
“How large is this fleet?” demanded Calvin.
“Thirty warships.”
“Wow,” said Pellew.
Samil was right. Engaging a fleet like that was completely out of the question. “Alright then we’ll have to go down onto the surface. Where on the planet are the weapons being stored?”
“Going onto the surface is committing suicide,” said Samil.
“He’s right,” said Tristan. “The whole planet is covered in type one Remorii. They’re everywhere.”
Calvin had heard almost nothing about type one Remorii. “It’s a chance we’ll have to take,” he said. “I don’t see another option.” He considered alerting Intel Wing, hoping that he got through to someone who was still loyal to the Empire, and who could dispatch a fleet to come to their aid. But the odds of coming up with a force able to contend with the Rotham fleet, and getting them into position in time, and not tipping off the Phoenix Ring in the process, seemed astronomically small. The last thing he wanted was to spook the seller into moving the stockpile somewhere else, somewhere he might never find.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” said Samil. “But if you are hell bent on going to the planet’s surface, there is one thing you can use to your advantage. The buyer is sending someone down to the surface to inspect the weapons stockpile and finish negotiations with the Enclave.”
“What’s his name?”
“I don’t know his name. But I do know this. On the orbital station there is a map which reveals the location of the Enclave agent on the planet’s surface. It also indicates where to land and what the safest route is to the rendezvous. You could follow it.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad,” said Calvin.
Samil looked unconvinced. “Just... don’t let the Enclave’s agent know you’re there. If he feels threatened by you... it won’t be pretty.”
“Where on the station is the map?” asked Pellew.
“The forward control room. You won’t find anyone on the station, it’s abandoned. And it doesn’t have any power either, so you’ll have to supply its computer with power before you can download the map.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem,” said Calvin. The Nighthawk easily had the resources for an op like that.
“You should also know,” said Samil, “the map is encrypted. The cipher is this—it’s in the strigoi language. I don’t know if you have software on your ship that can translate it.”
“I doubt it,” said Calvin. “But you could come with us, and help us.”
“No, I really can’t,” said Samil, again a look of sadness covered his face.
“Why not?”
“You don’t have to explain,” said Tristan. “But don’t worry, I know the Strigoi language—foul as it is. I can read the map.”
“Fine.” Calvin didn’t really want his father coming aboard the Nighthawk anyway. “When is this meeting happening?”
“In two days. At 1530 Standard Galactic Time, sharp.”
“That’s cutting it close, but we should be able to make it,” said Calvin.
“One more thing,” said Samil. He paused, taking in a deep breath.
Calvin looked at him. “What?”
“I—” he struggled to articulate the words. “Please… be safe.”
“What do you care?” Calvin resisted the urge to unleash on his old man more than a decade’s worth of frustration, confusion, and hurt feelings that had been created by Samil’s abrupt and inexplicable absence. But Calvin managed to hold back. As far as he was concerned, his father died a long time ago.
“I do care about you...”
“You sure have a strange way of showing it.”
“Alright so maybe I did walk out on you and your mother—” said Samil. “Maybe I was a terrible father. But I always wanted the best for you. And I still do.”
“That’s why you left? You wanted what’s best for me? I think you wanted what’s best for you.”
Samil looked down at his feet. “There were... complications. I had to leave. You wouldn’t understand...”
“You’re right,” said Calvin. “I don’t understand. And frankly, I don’t want to. Now I don’t think we have any more questions for you so—”
“Aleator. CERKO. Titus Antony,” said Samil in rapid succession.
“What?” the names caught Calvin by surprise.
“Of course you might have known him as Jacobi—if he gave you his name at all.”
“How do you know about any of that?” Calvin had hit a dead end trying to figure out who Titus Antony was and why CERKO had attacked him on Aleator. Here was the last place in the galaxy he’d expected to pick up a new lead.
“Because...” Samil looked up, into Calvin’s eyes. “I saved your life.”
“You?”
“Titus was a friend of mine. I was very sorry to hear about his death.”
“I don’t understand. Explain.”
“My friend Titus was a member of CERKO. He heard that they’d been hired to kill you on Aleator. He didn’t know why, and didn’t know how the buyer knew you would be there, but their contract was clear. For funding and equipment they would go to Aleator, find you, and take you out. Titus noted the similarities between your features and mine—you clearly got your good looks from my DNA—and asked me if you were my son. I told him that you were. I then asked him to sabotage the operation, so you would be safe. I even offered to pay him to do it. Whatever it cost. Are you listening to me, Calvin? Any amount.”
Calvin’s head was spinning. “Why would you do that?”
“Because you’re my son,” said Samil. “And someday, when you have children, you’ll understand that feeling. That need to defend the life you brought into this galaxy. You don’t have children, do you?”
“No.”
“Damn. I guess I’ll have to wait for grandchildren—”
“What did you pay him?” asked Pellew, seeming intrigued by the story. Perhaps tales of another soldier of fortune struck a chord with him.
“Nothing,” said Samil. “Titus owed me a debt and insisted that he would do this thing for me—putting his life in jeopardy—as repayment. I agreed.”
“The Organization I work for uncovered the same thing,” said Tristan. “That Calvin was going to be murdered on Aleator. I was there to make sure he was safe too, your friend’s sacrifice was totally unnecessary and ineffective, I’m sorry to tell you.”
“I wouldn’t say that—” said Calvin. “Whoever he was, and why ever he did it, Titus Antony saved my life. Only minutes before you did, Tristan.”
“So you see, I do care about you,” said Samil. “And always have. I hope you’re not too ashamed of your father...”
Calvin was completely thrown askew by this revelation, and knew he had to re-think several things, but this one deed, and sharing the intelligence he had freely, was not enough to acquit Samil in Calvin’s mind. He was still a terrible father. And still someone Calvin resented. If he ever did have children—which he doubted—he would make sure Samil never knew about them.
“I think it’s time for us to go,” said Calvin. “We have a stockpile of weapons to eradicate and a fleet to outrun.”
“I und
erstand,” said Samil. “I hope I see you again soon. Safe and in one piece.”
“Goodbye.”
Chapter 19
The annoyingly small crawlspace didn’t feel nearly so confining on the way out as it had on the way in. Calvin was just glad to be getting out of there, away from the Enclave, away from Tybur, and—most of all—away from Samil. It would probably be a long time before he could emotionally process what he’d just learned about his father, but for now he decided to store it away and try not to think about it. They had a clear objective that needed one-hundred percent of his attention. Get to Remus Nine. Find the isotome weapons. And destroy them. Until then, nothing else mattered. Least of all Calvin’s conflicted feelings regarding the man whose only real contribution to Calvin’s life was DNA.
“Almost out,” said Tristan. “The ladder is just ahead.”
Calvin led the way, followed closely by Tristan. Pellew and the other soldiers lagged a little behind. “I need to ask you something, Tristan.”
“What?”
“You’ve obviously been to the Enclave before—and you knew my father was there—what business did you have with the Enclave in the past?”
“I already told you. I follow the one great commandment.”
“That doesn’t actually tell me anything. Why didn’t you at least warn me that my father would be with the Enclave?”
“Why ruin the surprise?” asked Tristan.
They reached the ladder and Calvin allowed Tristan to lead the way to the top, since he was the only one who knew how to open the trapdoor. Calvin followed closely behind.
“The lycans on Echo Three,” continued Calvin, “your people, they believe my father is dead, and you let them believe that. Why?”
“They are happier believing it. What good would it do to tell them otherwise?”
“I don’t know,” said Calvin. “But if you only tell people what you think they should know, isn’t that an indictment against your credibility.”
Tristan laughed in response and opened the trapdoor, allowing some white light to spill in. Calvin was glad to see it. Even if it was too bright.
The Phoenix Rising Page 22
