The Phoenix Reckoning (The Phoenix Conspiracy Series Book 6)

by Richard Sanders

  “There are two small interceptor shuttles launching from the military skyport fifty miles from here,” reported the pilot.

  “Just keep ascending as fast as you can,” said Sergei. “Once we’re in orbit, they can’t touch us, they’ll get shot down by the madman’s battlegroup.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because I am hailing Raidan right now. I need him to know not to fire on this shuttle, and get us clearance to dock. I’d also like to stop him from firing on the planet any further.” He switched on the short range radio. “Shuttle Epsilon Two to ISS Harbinger, do you copy?” Nothing. “I repeat, Shuttle Epsilon Two to ISS Harbinger, come in please. Over.”

  ***

  “Sir,” said Commander Mason soberly. “I’m afraid time has expired.”

  Raidan nodded. He didn’t turn around to look at them; instead, he remained where he stood, next to the largest window on the bridge, staring down upon the beautiful blue and white planet below. A planet that now he must turn red…

  “I really wish it hadn’t come to this,” he said, to no one in particular.

  “Sir, if I may,” said Commander Mason. “It’s not too late to turn around and leave. Obviously, the Capital has called our bluff.”

  “We’re not bluffing,” said Raidan, still unwilling to break his gaze.

  “Sir, those are our people down there, innocent people—most of them,” insisted Commander Mason. “We can’t seriously deliver on our threat, can we?”

  “We have to,” said Raidan. “The people must overthrow Caerwyn. They must eliminate him. If I have to burn down half of Capital World to meet that end, then that is what I shall do.”

  “Why must it be so?” asked Commander Mason. “Wouldn’t that only aid our enemies?”

  “Caerwyn Martel’s existence aids our enemies. He has divided the Empire; he has made it nearly destroy itself. Even now it may be too late to fix the damage he has done,” said Raidan coldly. “Caerwyn dies. If it’s the last thing I do in this life, I will see him made into a corpse for what he’s done.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Mr. Gates,” said Raidan, “order the battlegroup to commence firing protocol Alpha Two,” he nearly winced as he gave the order, knowing just how brutal that protocol would be to the citizens of Capital World, but he did not wince, neither did he stutter. Raidan gave the order with cold calculation, and a broken heart.

  “Aye, sir,” said Mr. Gates, he looked like he could barely give the order. The man was a certified criminal; in his shaded past he’d belonged to bloody CERKO, and yet even he flinched at the thought of the brutality they were about to inflict. Nonetheless, he obeyed.

  “Mr. Demir,” said Raidan, still not looking away from the planet. “Commence firing protocol Alpha Two.”

  “As you command,” said Mr. Demir, as if washing his hands of the deed and placing the full blame for it on the head of the one giving the order. Just so, thought Raidan, that is exactly where it belongs. I am responsible for this order. And I accept that.

  A few seconds later the view became blinding as scores of beam weapons fired down upon the planet, lighting up the surface. Only then did Raidan look away. Turning his back to the slaughter, he walked to the command position. His heart felt so heavy he could barely move, yet he had to remain fierce and strong—at least in appearance.

  “SIR!” shouted Mr. Gates, spinning his chair to face Raidan. The man looked positively animated. “We’ve been contacted by a shuttle. They say they have Caerwyn Martel aboard and are delivering him to us!”

  Could this truly be so, wondered Raidan. Or is it a stalling tactic to allow Caerwyn’s fleet to arrive and annihilate the battlegroup? That fleet could be arriving almost any moment now. With no reason not to, Raidan decided to trust them.

  “HOLD FIRE!” he commanded, loudly. Then, to Mr. Gates, “order all ships to hold fire!”

  Mr. Gates quickly relayed the command and the bombardment ceased. “Sir, the shuttle is requesting permission to dock with the Harbinger,” said Mr. Gates. “Also, they are being pursued and request assistance.”

  “Clear them immediately,” said Raidan. “And, Mr. Demir, destroy any vessel pursuing them.”

  “With pleasure, sir.”

  “Captain,” said Commander Mason. “What if it’s a trick? We should divert the shuttle to another vessel just in case. The shuttle could be a bomb. It could be revenge!”

  “It’s not a bomb and it’s not revenge,” said Raidan, certain of himself. “It’s a gift. Order them to dock in the primary hangar, I will meet them myself.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Commander Mason,” said Raidan, as he reached the rear elevator, “have a full contingent of marines meet us there as well.”

  “Right away, sir.”

  “You have the deck.”

  ***

  After Fleet Admiral Tiberon’s unfortunate demise—execution for treason—a new commander had been needed to have general control of the Assembly’s fleet in battle. The weight of that honor, and great responsibility, had fallen upon Fleet Admiral Isolda Ravinder. Since receiving that promotion, she had been given command of the ISS Hyperion, Virgil Tiberon’s former ship. The vessel was a powerful alpha-class dreadnought and had been the flagship of the Sixth Fleet.

  In practice, it was also the flagship of the entire Imperial fleet—at least of that portion that had remained true to the Imperial Assembly—but officially that honor belonged to the ISS Victory, the slain king’s ship. The Victory had been moved somewhere safe and mostly was not included in the action; its current, temporary commander, Sir Doran, had shown wavering support for Caerwyn Martel and preferred to keep out of the battles. The man always had one excuse or another, but in Isolda’s opinion, he was either sympathetic to the royalist enemy, or else a coward.

  Without the Victory’s presence in the fleet, Isolda had named the Hyperion the acting flagship, and it was from the Hyperion’s bridge that she had commanded the Battle of Ophiuchus. A pyrrhic victory to be certain, but a victory notwithstanding. And had she not been personally commanded by the king to withdraw from the system, they would have taken control of the planet in a matter of days.

  Now, though, she and all her forces were racing to Capital System where, astoundingly, the king and the planet were both under threat from a rogue battlegroup of forty-one warships and thirty support ships. Not enough of a force to be considered a fleet, but more than a squadron, and certainly more than enough to handle a star system’s static and orbital defenses, even the ones at the capital. By now the starbases had fallen and the rogue battlegroup was reported to be in orbit around the planet. They had even begun their campaign of bombardment of the surface, if the latest reports were to be believed. And Isolda had no reason to doubt them.

  “ETA?” she demanded from her seat at the command position on the Hyperion’s bridge.

  “The fleet will arrive in Capital System in seventeen minutes,” her Ops chief replied.

  “And there’s no way to get there any sooner?” she asked, not for the first time.

  “No, sir,” replied the helmsman. “We’re already as deep into alteredspace as this vessel is capable of going.”

  None of this was new information, but somehow Isolda felt like there was something more she could do. She couldn’t stand the sensation of having her hands tied up, knowing there was a crisis but feeling that she had no options available to her to resolve it. It was like playing a game of chess and having no moves to make. Instead, waiting agonizingly for the other player to make his move, until then nothing could be done. Except in this instance, she needed to cheat somehow, because she needed to make her move before the other player, many lives on the surface of Capital World demanded it, including the life of the king himself.

  Privately, Isolda had minimal respect for the king as a person. Of course she respected the office wholeheartedly, and she happily followed the laws and the orders of the Imperial Assembly, and with great devotion. And
so she was committed to saving her king, even if she did think the man a coward for not sending any forces to defend Thetican System. An imperial star system that, if rumors were to be believed, had been entirely destroyed by an unknown enemy. The rebel queen, to her credit, had tried to stop it, but she’d proven too inept, or otherwise unable, to prevent the disaster.

  We should have been there, thought Isolda, angrily. Just like we should be in Capital World now. The people need us!

  “Sir, we are receiving a transmission,” reported the comms chief.

  “From who?” asked Isolda, wondering which ship in her fleet was having a problem now.

  “It’s from the ISS Harbinger, sir.” At the mention of the ship’s name, Isolda’s heart quickened and she shot to her feet. “The message is being broadcast throughout the Empire, to every system and every starship.”

  An ominous feeling overcame her, but she clenched her jaw and kept her voice firm and her stature strong. “Display it,” she said, half afraid of what she was about to see and hear. Certainly it couldn’t be good news, unless the maniac Asari Raidan had detected Isolda’s inbound fleet and wanted to negotiate a surrender. Although, somehow, that seemed unlikely.

  The main viewer flickered to life and revealed a man, Asari Raidan, standing with three other people. There were others behind them, but they were so poorly in the frame, none was recognizable. Of the three next to Raidan, one was the king; he looked red-faced and terrified, and sported a large bruise on the side of his head. He was gagged and his hands were shackled in front of him and some of the obscured people behind him were holding him in place.

  They have the king, thought Isolda desperately. I may be too late!

  The other two standing with Raidan were baffling. Isolda recognized them, both were members of the Imperial Assembly, one was Representative Cydney of Olympia and the other was Representative Taggart, of the Great Houses. Although not a lord, he had been selected by his House to speak for them in the Assembly. The question was, what were they doing there? Were they prisoners too? Neither of them seemed held in place, and neither wore shackles, nor did either appear to be very afraid, yet they could still be prisoners. It was easy enough for Isolda to imagine soldiers off camera pointing guns at them.

  “People of the Empire,” said Raidan. “Your leaders wish to speak to you.”

  “I am Representative Taggart of the Great Houses,” said Representative Taggart. “I speak on behalf of the Imperial Assembly, for the lords and ladies of our Empire everywhere. After great consideration, my colleagues and I have taken a vote and we find King Caerwyn Martel guilty of treason against the state. As such, we sentence him to die.”

  Impossible, thought Isolda as she listened. These representatives must be under duress!

  “And I am Representative Cydney of Olympia, and speaker for the common representatives in the Imperial Assembly, and speaker for the common citizens of the Empire. Ever since the esteemed Representative Tate of Thetican System was tragically lost to us, I have been selected to take her place as General Committee Chairman. On behalf of the common voices in the Imperial Assembly, and on behalf of the common voices of citizens of the Empire everywhere, I find Caerwyn Martel guilty of treason in the highest degree. And therefore sentence him to die.”

  Both of the representatives then knelt. Representative Taggart spoke first, “I, with all of my authority, and on behalf of the lords and ladies of the Imperial Assembly, and on behalf of all my constituency, hereby solemnly, and of my own free will, recognize Queen Kalila Akira as the sole true monarch of the Empire, and rightful ruler of us all. Long may she reign.”

  Representative Cydney spoke next. “I, with all of my authority, and on behalf of the common representatives of the Imperial Assembly, and on behalf of the common citizens of the Empire wherever they might be, hereby solemnly, and of my own free will, recognize Queen Kalila Akira as the sole true monarch of the Empire, and rightful ruler of us all. Long may she reign.”

  “Long may she reign,” came a chant from the many persons behind them, the ones too blocked or obscured to recognize.

  “As you see, Mister Martel,” said Raidan, looking at the king, “your own people have turned against you. Your claim to the throne has been rejected and you have been found guilty of treason, of being a usurper and pretender, and the instigator of this tragic civil war.”

  The king was clearly trying to speak, but the gag prevented him. Raidan then unholstered a pistol from his shoulder and yanked back the slide, arming it.

  Oh, dear God, this is not a message, this is an execution, thought Isolda, glancing at the clock to see that they still weren’t due to arrive in the system for ten more minutes. She looked back at the display to see Raidan press the barrel of the handgun against the king’s temple—threatening a contact shot.

  “On behalf of the Imperial Assembly, the Royal Assembly, and Her Majesty the Queen, I sentence you to die.”

  Then, to Isolda’s incredible disbelief, the gun fired, blowing a hole in the king’s head; the gunshot sound was somewhat muffled, though the spray of skull and brain matter at the exit wound made even Isolda nearly flinch to see it. The king slowly collapsed to his knees, but, before he’d fallen all the way to the ground, blood could be seen pouring out of his eyes, which rolled freely in their sockets. It was the single most disgusting display that Isolda had ever seen, yet she did not turn away. Everyone around her seemed too shocked to say anything.

  The camera zoomed in on the king’s corpse, once it had collapsed all the way to the floor, and then the transmission ended—just as abruptly as Caerwyn Martel’s life.

  “Every starship and planet of the Empire saw that?” asked Isolda, it was all she could do not to cover her mouth in shock.

  “Yes, sir,” replied her Comms chief. “It was broadcasted on every kataspace channel and frequency, including those reserved for children’s entertainment…”

  Isolda shook her head. Unbelievable…

  In the immediate aftermath of that disturbing transmission, Isolda did not know what to do. She suspected most people didn’t know what to do. Caerwyn Martel was dead; therefore, there was no longer a king, but what did that mean exactly? Was she supposed to recognize the rebel queen now as the true monarch? The leaders of the Imperial Assembly seemed to suggest so. But then again, they were obviously under duress when they made those statements. So they could not be taken at face value.

  And yet, how had Raidan come to be in possession of the king and such high ranking Assembly members, unless there had been some cooperation? Obviously, he had transmitted this…execution from the hangar of his stolen starship, the ISS Harbinger. But then, who had transported them there? No doubt the king had been there against his will, but the representatives…? Isolda could not say. Someone had brought them to the Harbinger, whether they had done so voluntarily or else had been abducted, along with the king, that remained a mystery for now.

  “Sir, I am getting several messages from the ships in our fleet,” said the Comms chief. “They are requesting instructions. None of them seem to know what we are supposed to do now.”

  They can join the club, thought Isolda. “Tell them to continue on course to Capital System. When we get there, if Asari Raidan and his battlegroup remain, then they will answer for this regicide.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “As for what this means and who we now support, I’m certain the Imperial Assembly will convene an emergency session and then provide us with clear instructions. Until that time, we will remain in Capital System.”

  “Aye, sir, informing the fleet.”

  If the Imperial Assembly, under no duress, commanded her to recognize Kalila Akira as the official monarch of the Empire, Isolda would be fine with that. Kalila had proven herself a hero by trying to defend Thetican System, and if it meant the end of civil war, all the better. However, unlike Raidan and many others, Isolda respected the rule of law, and she would do what the Assembly required of her, not take unilateral a
ction based on her own internal compass.

  Whatever the outcome was, supporting the rebel queen or else continuing to wage war against her, either way, Raidan would not be allowed to escape justice. One day, hopefully soon, he will answer for this regicide. And if Fleet Admiral Isolda Ravinder ever had the chance to bring him to justice, she promised herself that she would.

  CHAPTER 06

  “I confirm that the shuttle has departed the hangar; it’s at a distance of 15 MCs and rapidly increasing,” said Mr. Ivanov.

  “Good,” said Raidan. He’d returned to the bridge so quickly that he still wore his clothes from the execution, including all the bloodstains and other gore that stuck to him. Badges of pride, he decided. “Mr. Watson, take us out of orbit immediately,” said Raidan. “Mr. Gates, give the same order to the battlegroup. They are to jump to alteredspace as soon as possible. It’s not safe for us here, Ravinder’s fleet will be here any minute.”

  “Aye, sir,” both men acknowledged. The ship immediately turned, rotating the planet out of view, and accelerated to escape the planet’s gravity.

  “Sir, incoming message from the Arcane Storm,” said Mr. Gates. Raidan had a suspicion as to what this was about.

  “Patch it through.”

  As he had expected, it was Tristan. “Raidan, now that this foul business with the Martel fool is over, I trust that you remember our arrangement?”

  Of course, I remember, thought Raidan. As if Tristan would ever let him forget. “Yes, I remember,” he said.

  “Then I trust you agree with me when I suggest that now is the time?”

  Raidan nodded thoughtfully, even though Tristan could not see him because this exchange was strictly audio. “Tristan, you have served the cause well and faithfully,” said Raidan. “So yes, indeed, now is the time.”

  “At long last,” said Tristan, sounding so gleeful that one would think he had just won the lottery. Perhaps, in a way, he had.