***
“Seeker missiles destroyed,” said Cassidy. “The Phoenix is launching more missiles.” More blips appeared on the display. They disappeared as fast as they came. “The Desert Eagle is continuing to intercept ordnance from the Phoenix.”
Calvin felt relief pour through him like a breath of new life. He didn’t know why Nimoux was helping them, but the reason didn’t matter—not at the moment—all he cared about was that they were still breathing. Even though, by every right, they shouldn’t be.
“Why are they helping us?” asked Summers.
“Who cares?” asked Miles. He still looked severely stressed and his face was painfully red but the panic that had gripped him a moment ago was gone. “Let’s just get the hell out of here!”
“Agreed,” said Calvin.
“The Phoenix is changing position, trying to adjust its tactical angle so it can shoot at us without interference from the Desert Eagle,” said Cassidy. “That’s created a small window of escape. Sending coordinates to you now, Sarah.”
“I see them,” said Sarah, biting her lip in deep concentration. The ship swung about and quickly gained speed. Calvin watched the other ships on the 3d display seem to come closer to them as the Nighthawk shot past the Phoenix along its port side.
“I have a jump window,” said Sarah enthusiastically.
“Jump!” yelled Calvin.
“Where to?”
“Anywhere!”
***
Nimoux watched the Nighthawk disappear, knowing that its escape had been possible only because of his decision to intervene on its behalf. So, ultimately, it was his fault Calvin and the others had gotten away. Since the mission had authorized—even ordered—Nimoux to terminate the Nighthawk rather than let it escape, he knew his commanding officer wouldn’t look favorably on these circumstances. But they were what they were. And right now he had something else to deal with.
“Tell the Rhea to scan the Nighthawk’s jump signature and determine where it’s going. All other ships are ordered to converge on the Phoenix.”
“The squadron acknowledges,” said the pilot after relaying the message. Nimoux watched the ships close in on the rogue attack cruiser.
“Open a channel to Datar’s ship,” said Nimoux. He remained cool, despite the failure of the operation—and the Phoenix’s direct challenge to his authority. He breathed in deeply and steadily, it was a practiced exercise that always helped him seek his center and maintain some level of inner peace.
“Channel open.”
“Commander, you have violated direct orders and jeopardized not only the integrity of the mission but also the safety of every soul on your ship.”
“It is you who prevented me from completing our mission, Captain,” Commander Datar’s voice came over the speaker.
Nimoux would not be baited into a verbal sparring match. He had command of this squadron; arguing with Datar point for point would only serve to validate him in some way. “You are hereby relieved of command, Mister Datar,” said Nimoux. “Power down your defenses and prepare to be boarded.”
There was an audible click.
“Sir,” said the pilot, “the Phoenix has closed the channel.”
“Status of their defenses?” asked Nimoux.
“Online and fully powered. The Phoenix has locked onto us, sir.”
“Shields full forward. Order all ships to attack the Phoenix—restrict fire to its propulsion and defensive systems only.” The Phoenix was a tough warship but it couldn’t hope to resist the combined firepower of the rest of the squadron. “When the ship is disabled, order the Trogon to commence boarding operati—”
“Sir!” interrupted his ops officer. “Incoming jump signatures. Several ships inbound—they’ll enter the system in less than a minute.”
“How many?” asked Nimoux. “And who are they?”
“Over thirty ships, sir,” said the ops officer. He turned and gave Nimoux a frightened glance. “They appear to be Rotham.”
Rotham? In Imperial space? Nimoux’s squadron was packing a lot of firepower but it would be disintegrated in seconds against a force of thirty Rotham warships. “How come we didn’t see them until now?” demanded Nimoux. Their alteredspace distortion should have been visible long ago.
“Unknown, sir,” said the ops officer. “They just... came out of nowhere.”
“The rest of the squadron is detecting the fleet now too, they are requesting orders,” said the pilot.
Nimoux wanted to take over the Phoenix and toss Commander Datar in the brig but knew a capture operation would take far too much time and if one was attempted they’d be trapped in the system by the incoming fleet and either be slaughtered or captured themselves. “Has the Rhea identified the Nighthawk’s jump destination yet?”
“No, sir,” said the pilot after checking. “They say they need another five minutes.”
“Dammit,” Nimoux muttered. He had no choice but to let Calvin slip away. At least for now. “Send out rendezvous coordinates to the rest of the squadron—arbitrary destination, doesn’t matter where—then jump us out the system! We’ll meet up afterwards. I repeat, general order to all ships, evacuate the system!”
Chapter 27
The stars out the window again disappeared and the Nighthawk leapt into alteredspace once more—the second in a series of jumps meant to make it harder for Nimoux to triangulate exactly where they were going.
Calvin sat at the command position still, his head now in his hands. He felt a wall of blame loom over him. When the moment had arrived, he’d failed to give the necessary order and had ultimately doomed his ship and everyone aboard. The fact that they still lived was more a fluke than anything. The situation reminded him of the Trinity—that moment when he’d held a firearm, loaded and ready, and pointed it at the oncoming Remorii, but hesitated when he recognized the target. The ship’s XO—his friend. And that hesitation had resulted in Christine’s death. A fact that haunted him every day. If he didn’t have what it takes to do what had to be done—perhaps he was undeserving of command...
“We’re lucky we got out of that one,” said Summers. She stood by his side.
“I know,” said Calvin, his voice barely more than a whisper. He didn’t need anyone else telling him that he’d screwed up—he already knew. The problem was, if he were in that situation again, and had to end Anand’s life to save the ship, he wasn’t sure he could do it. Even now.
Summers put her delicate, beautiful hand on his shoulder and looked him in the eyes. Something in her stony, difficult-to-read face seemed to understand the grief and conflict inside him. She didn’t smile, and her eyes weren’t warm, but she seemed more pitying than condemning. He reached up and took her hand, holding it for a moment—enjoying its tenderness and warmth—then removed it from his shoulder.
“Calvin,” said Miles. He spun his chair to face the center of the bridge. Calvin could see the fatigue and stress on the bigger man’s face, but he was clearly as relieved as everyone else to be alive and away from Remus System. “I know how you feel. Anand was my friend too.” He gave Calvin a straightforward look of total sincerity—he was one of the most loyal friends Calvin had—but it was clear he didn’t approve of Calvin’s decision to hold fire against the Phoenix. “If we’re ever in that situation again... we have to take him out. Anand ain’t worth dying for.”
Coming from Miles, that actually meant something. He’d been there at Camdale too. Been part of all the memories they’d made. Miles, Anand, and Calvin had been students together, and roommates, and had supported each other through thick and thin. No doubt Miles was as confused as Calvin over Anand’s recent behavior—and determination to destroy them—but Calvin doubted Miles was as hurt. He’d always been kind of a third-wheel, whereas Calvin and Anand had been best friends.
Calvin nodded. Not wanting to say anything else about it. He was deeply wounded inside. It hurt far more than the bruises he’d sustained on Remus Nine, and seemed to be getting worse n
ot better. He didn’t know why he ached this bad—it made him feel weak and pathetic. And he understood even less why Anand could throw him away so easily, despite all they’d done and been through. Anand seemed to have none of the difficulty Calvin had at ending the other’s life, in fact he seemed strangely hell-bent on making it happen. It was all very confusing and discouraging and Calvin just had to accept that he wouldn’t be able to make sense of it. At least not now.
“I agree,” said Sarah, who hadn’t known Anand as long as Miles and Calvin but had once had romantic feelings toward him. “When we see the Phoenix again, if Anand tries to kill us... we have every right to put him down.”
Calvin didn’t like receiving all this attention. It only rubbed it in that he’d messed up. He had to put an end to this conversation before it went any further—otherwise he risked exploding at the people dearest to him. “Miles,” said Calvin sharply, “if that situation happens again, and you have a shot at destroying the Phoenix to save this ship—you take that shot. No matter what I tell you in that moment. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir,” said Miles. He grit his teeth and fire showed in his eyes. That was what he’d wanted to hear. That was what they’d all wanted to hear. Calvin did not enjoy giving that order, but knew it was the right thing. And hopefully that would put the issue to rest.
The ship came to a stop, once again filling the window with stars. “Deadspace position three achieved,” said Sarah. “Plotting course for deadspace four.” Then, a moment later. “Initiating jump.” The stars vanished into blackness.
“Why do you suppose he did it?” asked Summers. Calvin shot her an annoyed look; he did not want to discuss Anand anymore. “I mean Nimoux,” she clarified. “Why did he save our ship? Even though it cost him his quarry.”
That was an important question to ask, Calvin admitted internally. “Apparently we are worth more to him alive than dead,” said Calvin. “Even if it means it takes longer to bring us in. I can’t fathom why though.” Secretly he thought that perhaps it was because of the message he’d sent Nimoux earlier—informing him of the isotome weapons and imploring him to take the threat seriously. But Calvin couldn’t be sure. For all he knew Intel Wing and the Fleet had explicitly ordered Nimoux to take the Nighthawk alive.
“We should probably only make another jump or two,” said Tristan ,standing next to the helm. “So the trail doesn’t get any colder.” He looked battered and cut up from the fight on Remus Nine—but his body’s remarkable healing abilities had already repaired many of his injuries.
“I agree,” said Calvin. “Two more random jumps, Sarah. Then follow Tristan’s coordinates.”
“Aye, aye,” she said.
Tristan had managed to extract the supposed position of the Arcane Storm from their captive. Calvin wouldn’t bet heavily that the information was accurate, but at least they had a lead. And if they could capture or destroy the ship—wiping out the remaining isotome weapons in the process—then the mission would be a total success.
Not a cheap success, however. They’d paid a heavy price. The ship was battered and again in need of repair and they’d lost many lives—Polarian lives, but lives all the same. Calvin had also been briefed about the betrayal of one of his officers—Patrick O’Conner—who now languished in the brig, and he wondered if Patrick had been the mole. He hoped so, or else there were multiple traitors aboard, but he couldn’t figure out how Patrick would have known they were going to the QH-212 star, which the mole had successfully reported to Intel Wing. Calvin planned on grilling Pellew, Alex, Summers, and Tristan as soon as possible to see if any of them could have leaked the information to Patrick, and he was going to have Cassidy sweep the bridge and the CO’s office for listening devices, but all of that would have to wait until they arrived at the coordinates and either found the Arcane Storm and the isotome weapons, or they didn’t.
There was also the issue of the unresolved murder that had Calvin pulling out his hair. Even though they’d escaped Remus System in mostly one piece, every soul on the Nighthawk was still potentially in mortal danger. The lab had produced a report, in which they’d conclusively identified Polarian DNA at the crime scene of the murdered special forces soldier—but they had yet to identify a specific assailant, or conclusively prove that the DNA had been left behind at the moment of the attack and wasn’t an artifact left there by a Polarian using the head before the murder took place. Calvin decided to keep this report quiet until the lab came up with more convincing results, but he knew the special forces unit on the ship—which now greatly outnumbered the Polarians—demanded justice for their slain comrade. And now the Polarian force was too weak to deter reprisals. If he didn’t identify and punish the culprit soon—assuming he’d survived—Calvin feared the men would incite their own form of retribution.
For the moment, though, he had to set aside those concerns. And focus on the Arcane Storm. Hopefully it would be in their sights soon.
***
The Desert Eagle sat in open space. The nearest star was light-years away. For the most part, the rest of squadron held position nearby. Awaiting orders. One ship was missing.
“It’s been twenty minutes,” said Nimoux, glancing at the CO’s computer screen. “Still no sign of it?”
“Affirmative, sir,” said the ops officer. “The Phoenix is not at the rendezvous coordinates and there are no ships on our scopes approaching this position.”
Nimoux folded his arms. It was disappointing but not unexpected. “I think it’s safe to assume Commander Datar is not coming.”
“I concur,” said the XO.
The question remained, had the Phoenix gone elsewhere? Or had it stayed behind in the Remus System? When the Desert Eagle jumped away, the Phoenix hadn’t left yet. So Nimoux didn’t know for certain if the ship escaped or not. The last to leave Remus—the Spirit and the Trogon—both reported that they didn’t see the Phoenix jump away either. But that didn’t mean the ship didn’t escape the system. Just that it took the ship longer to calculate its destination and fire up its alteredspace system.
So unless Datar had some reason to believe the Rotham fleet was not a threat to him, which seemed unlikely, he almost certainly had jumped from Remus. Which meant he could be anywhere. Adding another deadly warship to the growing list of renegade and disappeared vessels.
“Now what do we do?” asked the XO. “We have no leads on the Nighthawk.”
“Our priorities have changed,” said Nimoux. “A hostile military force has crossed through the demilitarized zone, in defiance of the peace treaty, and invaded Imperial space. That is threat number one. Now we make a report to both Intel Wing and the Fleet and await new orders. No doubt the squadron will be sent to meet up with forces from the Fifth and Sixth Fleets to repel the invasion.”
“Does that mean—?” asked the ops officer, no doubt wondering the same thing that was on all of their minds.
“Yes,” said Nimoux. “As of this moment, we are likely at war with the Rotham Republic.”
***
“There it is. Just like the man said,” said Tristan.
Nothing was visible out the window except an endless array of stars, but on the 3d display there was a tiny blip which grew as the Nighthawk approached.
“Status of the ship?” asked Calvin, leaning forward.
“Looks powered down and adrift,” said Cassidy. “All defenses are offline and it is flying no colors and displaying no lights.”
“All stop,” said Calvin, wanting to get a better sense of the situation before coming any closer.
“Answering all stop,” said Sarah.
“Can we confirm its identity?” asked Calvin.
“Affirmative,” said Cassidy, reading something on one of her displays. “The ship is a perfect match for the Arcane Storm. We’ve found it.”
Calvin had hoped to find the ship but hadn’t expected to find it dead in space, in the middle of nowhere, almost like someone stashed it here to hide it. “Can we tell if anyone is
on board?” he asked.
“The ship is giving off some residual heat so it’s possible some of its life support systems are still functioning,” said Cassidy. “But nothing can be determined for sure.”
“Hail the ship,” said Calvin.
“Aye, sir,” Sarah attempted to contact the ship repeatedly. “No response.”
“Any sign that the ship set off a distress beacon?” Calvin doubted it, but it was possible—after all, something had happened to the ship.
“If they did, it is no longer functioning,” said Cassidy.
“Is there any visible damage?” asked Calvin. “Any indication that the ship was in a firefight?”
“No sir. The hull seems perfectly intact. There is no sign that it sustained any hits or that another ship boarded it.”
“Take us the rest of the way in, Sarah,” said Calvin. “Nice and easy.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Cassidy, keep monitoring the ship. Let us know if anything changes.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Miles, disengage the stealth system and raise the shields. Full strength forward. Keep them powered until the ship is just outside our shield radius.” Calvin doubted it, but it was possible the Arcane Storm was rigged to explode if it detected a ship sized object in too close of proximity. If so, the shields would only be partially effective and, given the state of the Nighthawk’s crumpled armor, an explosion on the Arcane Storm was likely to destroy both vessels. Calvin had half a mind to simply fire at the Arcane Storm and be done with it, but he wanted to confirm that the isotome weapons were indeed still aboard—and he believed the ship represented a mountain of new intelligence. Not the least of which were clues regarding its disappearance.
“Aye, aye. Stealth disabled. Shields up.”
“Nearing the ship,” said Sarah. “Distance of point two million mc’s and closing. Adjusting speed.”
The Phoenix Rising Page 34
