"Yeah, it's me," said Calvin. "I'm all right. I escaped the blast by coming aboard the Harbinger."
"I can't believe it…” said Sarah.
"What’s your status?" asked Calvin. "Did everyone make it?"
Sarah's voice became sober. "Not everyone."
"I see," he wasn’t ready to ask who didn't survive. "Do you have enough primary crew to operate the ship?"
"Affirmative. We can crew the ship. What are your orders?"
"Dock with the Harbinger to receive medical supplies and transfer our wounded; their medical officers are permitted aboard. Once that is complete, set course for Gemini, exact heading will be sent from the Harbinger. You're to consider it the flagship for the time being."
"Uh... yes, sir," said Sarah. She didn't hide her confusion well. And Calvin knew his crew was wondering if Calvin were giving these orders under duress, and all he could do was hope Summers wouldn't countermand his orders and have the ship do something else. He tried to think of something to say, but knew nothing would convince her. Still... he had to try.
"And tell Commander Summers," said Calvin. He was going to try to pressure her but midsentence changed tactics, knowing a firm hand didn't work on her if she thought she out-ranked him, which she did. "Tell her... that I appreciate her efforts. And that all will be explained to her satisfaction once we arrive."
"Okay…” said Sarah, sounding even more confused, but she passed along the message exactly.
"Did she get it?"
"Message received," said Sarah.
"Good..." he paused. "Cross out."
The comms officer terminated the call.
"Summers Presley is on your ship?" Radian asked as Calvin stood up.
"Yes," said Calvin, surprised at the incredulous look on Raidan's face. Somehow he'd always assumed Raidan knew this. After all, he seemed to know everything else.
"What a small Empire this really is..." he shook his head. "She's not still mad at me, is she?"
"I think she is."
"That's unfortunate," he sighed. "But I guess it can't be helped. She's fantastic. I'm sure you found her to be an exceptional officer."
Calvin hesitated. "Something like that."
Raidan chuckled then looked to his helmsman, "Mister Watson, once our docking operation is complete, get us underway."
"Yes, sir. Jump to eighty-five percent potential?"
"That’ll do nicely," said Raidan then he turned to another officer. "Mister Mason, you have the deck." He looked back at Calvin. "Well then, shall we take this conversation to the privacy of my office?"
***
Raidan's office was only slightly larger than Calvin's office, and even more sparsely decorated.
The blank walls and dull carpet were clean and like-new, as were the basic amenities. Only Raidan’s desk screamed for attention. It was large and made of a beautifully-lacquered cedar in the style of centuries long gone, and seemed profoundly out of place—certainly not warship standard. On its surface were a bottle of whiskey and an old-fashioned notebook with pens, there was no computer.
"Welcome to my home away from home," said Raidan as he took a seat behind his desk. Calvin sat opposite. Tristan, who had followed them in, remained standing by the door, which he closed and locked. Calvin wasn't comfortable with him being there, especially directly behind him, but knew it would only weaken his position to complain.
"Calvin," said Raidan. "It is very important that you tell me everything about the battle before we arrived. I want to know exactly what happened. Which ships attacked which, in what order, what weapons were used. I want to know it all."
Calvin was reluctant to give up what was probably the only useful card he had. Instead he asked a question of his own. "What happened after your ships arrived?" He hoped to glean useful information about Raidan's fleet and resources.
"We arrived. We took out as many Rotham ships as we could. But our priority was to disable the ship you were on and capture it. Because of that, about half the squadron escaped. I have no idea where they're going to regroup."
"Did you take any losses?" asked Calvin.
"No. Some casualties and some damage, of course. A few fighters. But no capital losses."
Raidan didn't tell him how many ships he had. Calvin tried again. "You must have had quite a force to chase off the squadron."
Raidan eyed him cautiously, his words slow. "There are four of us here. The Harbinger, the Mary Gale, the Aurora and the Liberty Sun."
"They must be powerful ships."
Raidan's face betrayed no reaction. "I suppose."
"Where did they come from?"
"Private owners."
Calvin raised an eyebrow. "Private owners?"
"Yes."
"What about the Harbinger?"
"You know where that ship came from." Raidan cleared his throat. "Now tell me about the first part of the battle."
"My defense officer would be better than me at describing it. I will order him to answer all of your questions," Calvin paused. "Right after you answer all of mine."
He doubted his little information was a fair trade for Raidan's. But it was worth a try.
Raidan leaned back, tapping his fingers together. He was nearly double Calvin's age but still had a child-like glow in his eyes. "I might not be able to answer all of your questions," he said. "But I'll do what I can."
Calvin did not know where to begin. Being able to interview the subject of his investigation was a rare opportunity, but came with its own special considerations. For instance, the questions he asked would reveal what information he didn't have and what he was most interested in.
"Let's start at the beginning," said Calvin. "Why did you throw your life away to destroy a few commercial ships?"
Raidan looked amused. "Why do you think I did it?"
"I think you did it knowing your life was never really on the line. You knew you'd be set free," Calvin guessed, eyeing Raidan keenly. "Did you do it for the Harbinger?"
"Trade up, you mean?" Raidan leaned forward. "No. No. No. I preferred the Phoenix and still do. This is a beautiful ship, don't get me wrong, but the Phoenix..." his gaze became forlorn, "the Phoenix was mine."
"So then why?" asked Calvin. "I doubt you wanted to start a war."
"A war? No, a war's the last thing our delicate Empire needs. My motives go far deeper than that. Can't you see them?"
Calvin wasn't sure what to make of this game Raidan was playing. They both knew Calvin couldn't know Raidan's real motives unless he told him. Why the charade? Maybe it’s a test. He wants to know if I’m an asset before telling me more.
All Calvin could think to do was continue playing the game. "I believe you sacrificed everything because you wanted to kill those Rotham ships. Not because of who they were, but what they were carrying."
Raidan nodded. "That's exactly right."
"So what were they carrying?" Calvin folded his arms. "What could possibly be worth giving up everything for?"
"They had Class One Cargo. A cargo worth dying for, if necessary," Raidan paused. "When I made the choice to strike, I did not know if I was signing my own death sentence or not. Because I didn’t know if I could be rescued. I knew an effort would be made. I knew the plan and I knew the players. But nothing is ever really certain in games like this. Generals die, kingdoms fall, governments collapse. And all without a sound. The tendrils of the enemy go very deep. And if you cannot see him, you cannot be certain you've beaten him."
Calvin considered that for a moment, a very interesting response. Though perhaps a bit overly poetic. It showed that Raidan, at least, saw his actions as heroic.
"So what is Class One Cargo?"
"You know the old expression, seeing is believing?"
"Yes."
"Well, you'll have trouble believing what I'm going to tell you unless I show you." Raidan smiled mysteriously then ordered Tristan to "bring in the special guest."
While they waited for Tristan's return, Calvin spec
ulated who this mysterious guest was and what link he or she had to the "Class One Cargo." Whatever it was.
The door opened, and Calvin swiveled his chair to see two heavily armed soldiers step in, followed by Tristan, who was forcibly escorting a man in handcuffs.
The prisoner's face couldn't be seen, since his head was bowed and his hair long, but he seemed middle-aged and rather thin. Hardly a match for an escort consisting of two stocky marines and an athletic werewolf.
"Show your face, coward," said Raidan. And Calvin watched the prisoner slowly raise his head and shake his hair out of his eyes to reveal Raidan's face.
Calvin did a double take, What!?Another Raidan? Aside from his longer hair and thinner physique, he looked in every way the same person.
"A twin," said Calvin.
"I have no siblings."
And Calvin knew from his investigation of Raidan that was true—or at least that's what had been recorded in all the databases referencing him.
"Cosmetic surgery?" Calvin guessed.
"We've ruled that out after thorough medical inspection."
"A clone?"
"Not possible," said Raidan. "First because it would be too impractical, since they would've had to take my DNA near the time when I was born—accelerated aging isn't the answer either, or else his age would only match mine for a brief window of time.
"Secondly, this imposter's DNA does not match mine. In fact, it's so profoundly different that he shouldn't look anything like me, and yet he does."
"Very strange," said Calvin. Now wondering which Raidan was the real Raidan.
"Perhaps he's a very close look-alike," said Calvin. But, even though it made the most sense, it didn't seem right. This Raidan copy seemed too perfect. The sameness was incredible. Identical imperfections and blemishes in all the same places, regardless of how minute.
"It's not just a random look-alike," Raidan said.
The imprisoned Raidan spoke up. "Don't believe him. I'm the real Raidan." He was silenced by a rap on the head from Tristan.
Calvin turned to face the original Raidan who still sat at his desk, now shaking his head.
"How do I know he isn't the real Raidan?" asked Calvin.
"Had this one been ready and deployed before The Organization got its hands on him, it might be much harder to tell. But as it is, this one was never really ready to be me. He doesn't know enough about me to actually replace me."
"Organization?"
"It's my amnesia!" the imprisoned Raidan said.
The original Raidan laughed. "I know my life backwards and forwards, I lived it. He doesn't have a clue. He doesn't know anything beyond my name, rank, and place of birth. When I went to Antiva and fought in that nineteen-day action during the Great War, he has no memory of that. He doesn't know what it was like."
"I do know. I do remember," the imprisoned Raidan said.
"I was never at Antiva," the original Raidan said. His eyes met Calvin's. "You see what I mean? He's desperate to get out of confinement and complete his mission, he'll say or do anything. But he isn't me. Not even close. Surely you must have studied my background enough, over the course of your investigation, to get a sense of who I am. Ask us anything, I'm sure you'll be satisfied."
Calvin had studied a lot, and it was true Raidan had never served a combat mission in Antiva. But what concerned Calvin was that his only facts, everything he knew about Raidan, came from what was officially on record, and could have been modified to say anything. Not likely the case, but it wasn’t impossible either.
So, just to be sure. "You," he pointed to the imprisoned Raidan. "Name your primary crew on your last ship," he was certain the real Raidan would know his own crew, and though the question was basic enough both might know the answer, he figured it was a good starting point.
"I don't remember, you have to believe me!" the imprisoned Raidan said. "It was a head injury. I don't remember anything!"
If only I had a q for every time I've heard a prisoner plea amnesia...
Calvin turned to the original Raidan who still sat smugly behind his desk.
"My XO was Summers Presley. Impeccable posture, exquisite hair, and a captivating smile. Intelligent, competent, all-business, and completely dependable. My helmsman was Joshua Van Davin, dark hair, boyish smile, mid-thirties. Has a scar on his head from a childhood surgery."
Calvin cut him off. "I've heard enough. I'm convinced." And he was convinced. There was still a small part of him that wondered if he were wrong, and there probably always would be, but given the circumstances, only a fool would see it the other way. There was a fine line between being a good investigator and a suspicious moron. Like so many people kept reminding him, sometimes a cigar really is just a cigar.
"You may take him away, you three," said Raidan, waving off Tristan and the others. They complied and left Calvin and Raidan alone once more.
"If I hadn't seen it for myself, I wouldn't believe it."
Raidan nodded. "I told you so. Impressive isn't it? However they did it. Wherever they found him. However they built him. Whatever they did, they got their hands on a very convincing looking version of me. And if the imposter had had more time, and had studied my life and habits in enormous detail, they just may have passed him off as the real me. And replaced me altogether. And then they'd have another warship in their pocket and no one would be the wiser."
"So who could do this?" asked Calvin. Almost anyone could have motive to take control of a ship. But means was another story. Coming up with an authentic looking Raidan and aiming to switch them—that implied serious resources.
"Someone powerful," said Raidan. "Someone who has to be stopped."
"And that's where you come in? You're the one stopping it, him, her, whatever."
"A duplicate person, like the one you just saw, is Class One Cargo. We call them replicants. The Organization doesn't know where they come from, or how many there are, or who's controlling them exactly, just that they are slowly surfacing. And we've caught a few."
"I see," said Calvin, putting the pieces together as best he could. "You stopped being the dutiful Imperial captain the minute you came face-to-face with this other you. And that was proof enough for you to join some kind of fight against them."
Raidan's eyes lit up but his words remained calm. "I still am a dutiful Imperial captain, I never stopped. The decision I made to destroy those Rotham ships, and steal the Harbinger, was for the good of the Empire. If I hadn't, then several people would now be replaced. Hauled off to some prison, executed maybe, tortured, god knows what, and without hope, because no one would even notice. Because some imposters would've taken over their lives."
"Who would have been replaced?"
"Important people."
"Give me names, Raidan."
"I don't know their names," he said. "I just know what was on those ships, and where it was headed. Class One Cargo headed for Capital World. That is what The Organization told me. And that is why I acted. Someone had to. And I was the only one who could."
"And you gave up everything to make that one move?"
"If that's what it took," said Raidan. "I was ready to die for it. But as it turned out, I'm still valuable. Maybe more than ever."
"Indeed," said Calvin, still wondering how Raidan acquired such a powerful ship. "So what is this Organization you're working for?"
"All you had to do was ask," Raidan gave a wan smile."The Organization is a network of patriots."
"What kind of network? And how many patriots?"
Raidan smiled as if to say, Wouldn't you like to know? Then he spoke. "We're connected well enough. We have people in every Imperial system and people on a few others. A little bit of money. A few ships. Enough to know there's a problem, but maybe not enough to stop it."
"How did your order get founded?"
Raidan shrugged. "There's an answer of course. But I don't have it."
"How old is this Organization?"
"It's hard to say."
Calvin knew that Raidan wouldn't go into specific details if he didn't want to. And, when dealing with his kind, pressuring him for more answers would only result in fewer. Calvin remained patient.
"I was recruited into The Organization awhile back. Years ago. But I wasn't an easy convert. I didn't believe them, you see, that there was a danger. That the Empire was no longer as perfect as I’d always assumed. I didn't want to listen, but they were very... persuasive."
"They bought you?"
Raidan frowned. "No, of course not. Not persuasive then. Convincing. They showed me proof. Just like I showed you proof a few minutes ago. It's hard to keep thinking your world makes sense when you see your face on somebody else's body."
"So it’s like I guessed, The Organization showed you the fake Raidan, and that is why you joined them?"
"The fake Raidan was the moment when I knew I had to open my eyes. And, once I did, the signs were everywhere. Little things. But all of them wrong."
"Like what?"
"Changes in behavior. Orders that didn't quite make sense. Captains I've known for years developing small... eccentricities."
"You think they were replaced by replicants?" Calvin sat forward. "And you found out about the fake you before it was too late, making the threat personal."
"Not so much personal," Raidan clarified. "Yes, I'm going to protect myself. And that means siding with The Organization. But, much more importantly, I'm going to protect the Empire. If someone is powerful enough to find or... construct these things, and use them to take over our navy ships, invisibly, then what does that say about our future?"
"So if they showed you the replicant-you years ago, why is he on this ship now?"
"As a chilling reminder of why I do what I do."
Calvin didn't bother to ask how he got aboard the Harbinger specifically. Raidan could have easily picked him up at any point since he seized the ship. Instead he asked a different question.
"How did you know the fake you wasn't the only replicant?"
"I've seen others since."
The Phoenix Conspiracy Page 36
