The Phoenix Reckoning (The Phoenix Conspiracy Series Book 6)

by Richard Sanders

  The Speaker then signaled Senator Ze’lo.

  Come on, thought Alex. Sell this. Get it done.

  “We cannot be free if we are not safe,” said Senator Ze’lo simply. “This bill, which guarantees trial by due process to anyone prosecuted under it, is only about giving the right people the tools they need to do their job, which is to save us from those among us who are most corrupt. My colleagues, we must pass this bill, not to do so would be to ensure our slow demise from the top down to the bottom. An apple with a rotten core may appear healthy on the outside, for a time, but it does not last. And if we do not pass this bill, now, today, then we too will not last.”

  “Mr. Nefyr, final word,” said the Speaker.

  “If we pass this bill, we are signing away our independence and enlarging an already over-bloated, overgrown bureaucracy that, mark my words, will jail the innocent and punish the blameless. To pass this bill, especially under this kind of time pressure, without allowing it to go through the formalities, such as committee review and amendment, would be a brash action. We owe our constituents better than that. Do not pass this bill.”

  The camera jumped back to the Speaker, who sat in his lofty position in the center, facing opposite the other senators. Senator Ze’lo, because he was introducing the bill, stood at a podium nearby, also facing the rest of the senate. “The Senate now votes on whether or not to enact the bill at issue. You have five minutes to consider the matter and then the vote will be called.”

  Just do the damn vote already, thought Alex. He checked his watch, waiting impatiently as the five minutes slowly ticked by.

  “Five minutes are up. All in favor of the motion, so indicate,” said the Speaker. The camera panned out to show the body of senators, many of whom were standing and holding up cards that were green. It was all a show of ceremony, Alex knew, since the senators had cast their votes on the terminals before them. But, for whatever reason, they had to be visually counted too.

  “Count them,” the Speaker ordered, and the clerk did so. When each senator was counted, he took his seat.

  “Now, all opposed, so indicate,” said the Speaker, once all were sitting.

  A different cohort of senators stood this time, and instead of green cards they held red cards. It was clear from just looking at them that there were too few in the against camp to stop the bill—just as the Advent had arranged.

  “Count them,” the Speaker again ordered. When finished, the clerk brought the Speaker the final tally. The Speaker checked it against what was displayed on his computer prompt and then announced the outcome.

  “By a vote of sixty-eight in favor, thirty-two opposed, and twenty-six absences, the motion to enact The Security of the State Act passes,” announced the Speaker. Alex was tempted to rush into the chamber, then and there, but he remembered his orders and remained in place a little longer. “The Act now awaits the approval of our Chief Minister before it becomes law.”

  “I now make a second motion,” said Senator Ze’lo, to everyone’s apparent surprise.

  “What motion is that?” asked the Speaker.

  “I move to invoke the Supersedence Clause as to this legislation.”

  More shock throughout the room. Such a move, if unsuccessful, was political suicide. A senator who made such a motion, Alex knew, was effectively saying that the current legislation was so urgently needed that it could not wait for Ministerial Procedure and had to become effective immediately. Because such a clause would be easy to abuse, the Senate imposed steep penalties on anyone who invoked it, should their motion fail.

  “Senator Ze’lo,” said the Speaker. “Are you quite sure that you wish to do that? You have already successfully gotten your bill to pass without going to committee, having second or third readings, and with minimal debate. You would also seek to circumvent a possible Premiere’s Veto as well?”

  “I would,” said Senator Ze’lo, just like he was supposed to. So far he had performed admirably, which boded well for Alex, since he had been the one charged with leaning on the senator to make certain he cooperated. “I would vote now to Invoke the Clause! The threat is too immediate to wait, and, as I see it, anyone who would wish not to Invoke the Clause, must themselves be a part of the corruption, for why else would we delay implementing the very measures that will purify and defend our precious Republic?”

  That was a dirty shot, Alex knew, but he hoped the if you vote against this you self-incriminate implication would strike all the right chords with all the right senators. It should work. The Advent had leaned upon all the senators they could, and removed the senators that would have stopped the Act; everything had been planned out so meticulously…

  “I move for the matter to be voted upon immediately,” said Senator Ze’lo.

  “You will never have the two-thirds majority vote that you need for this to pass,” one of the senators shouted off camera.

  “I shall,” replied Senator Ze’lo, “for everyone in this room knows there are but two choices, vote to stop the corruption, or vote to protect it. Even a no-vote is a vote in favor of corruption. Everyone in this chamber is either innocent or else part of the very problem this Act exists to deal with.”

  “Point of Order,” said the Speaker. “The movant cannot imply that those voting for or against his motion are of better or worse character by doing so.”

  “So noted, Mr. Speaker, I apologize,” said Senator Ze’lo, who, Alex knew, had known damn well what he was doing when he said it. “I call for a vote.”

  “A vote has been called,” said the Speaker.

  “But not all are present,” objected Senator Yitvun of Ezla. He was the leader of the most powerful minority political cohort.

  “Not all must be present,” said the Speaker, reciting law that all of them already knew.

  “In that case…” said Senator Yitvun, standing up. “I filibuster the motion,” he waved for the rest of his cohort to stand. “It’s too much too soon.”

  “Why trigger the filibuster?” asked Senator Ze’lo. “Do you have something to hide?”

  “Out of order!” said the Speaker. “Mr. Ze’lo, there will be no slander here.”

  “I did not slander him,” Senator Ze’lo replied calmly. “Slander is a spoken lie about another, I merely asked a question, and, by definition, a question can never be a lie, because it never asserts anything.”

  “Don’t make me censure you,” said the Speaker, unimpressed by Senator Ze’lo’s argument.

  “I apologize, Mr. Speaker,” said Senator Ze’lo. “And to the noble senator from Ezla. However, I do believe I am correct in saying that his cohort alone is not sufficient to initiate a successful filibuster.”

  “That is true,” said the Speaker.

  “Will no one stand with us?” asked Senator Yitvun incredulously, as the rest of the senators remained in their seats. No doubt many wished they could stand, but what Senator Yitvun did not know was that the Advent had leaned upon all the vulnerable and well-positioned senate officers, incentivizing them, as it were, not to filibuster the motion.

  “It seems you stand alone,” said Senator Ze’lo after waiting a moment.

  “The filibuster fails,” said the Speaker. “Therefore, an immediate vote is called on whether or not this body shall invoke the Doctrine of Supersedence as to the recently passed The Security of the State Act. Senators, representatives of the Republic, you may take five minutes to consider your positions before voting.”

  To Alex, the five minutes seemed to take five hours. But, eventually, the Speaker officially called the vote.

  “To any who support the invocation of the Doctrine of Supersedence, do so indicate in the appropriate manner.”

  Many senators stood: some of them legitimately had been persuaded by the need for the Act, others had been blackmailed, bribed, threatened, or otherwise encouraged to lend their support; the large showing of green cards made it obvious the motion would carry. However, the Speaker went through the formality of calling for th
e opposition’s vote as well. A significant number of red cards came up: senators who were untouchable, senators who were idealists, and so on, but their number was ultimately insufficient. Just as the Advent had planned.

  The Speaker collected the recorded number of votes and checked them against the computer terminal before announcing, “Of those present, by a vote of sixty-eight percent in favor, thirty in opposition, and two no votes, the motion to invoke the Supersedence Clause carries, and therefore The Security of the State Act takes effect as law immediately, not subject to any possible review, except judicial.” The Speaker then rang a handheld bell, a ceremonial indication that such discussion was over.

  That’s my cue, thought Alex. He dropped his long trenchcoat, which had hidden his Advent fatigues and firearms, and then stormed the west entrance to the Senate. Other Advent agents were there too, and, Alex knew, many more were present, surrounding the building, all converging on the Senate from a tight perimeter.

  “What is the meaning of this? What is going on?” demanded the Speaker, as a swarm of Advent operatives poured into the Senate Chamber.

  “By the authority of The Security of the State Act, we are here to remove and arrest individuals suspected of rendering aid to a terrorist organization, among other charges,” said the lead Advent operative, flashing his identification. Meanwhile, Alex and the others went for their predetermined targets and began rounding up the senators they knew to be involved with the Rahajiim, thanks to the intel mined from the supercarrier. Realizing what was happening, several senators bolted for the exits, only to find them blocked. There was no escape.

  Alex reached his target and roughly subdued him, pressing Senator Afkar firmly against the ground as he forcibly tied restraints to the man’s hands, behind his back. “Senator Afkar, by the authority of The Security of the State Act, I hereby arrest you—”

  “You have no authority here, traitor,” the senator interrupted him. “I have sovereign immunity; I’m a member of the Senate!”

  Alex spoke over him. “By authority of The Security of the State Act, I hereby arrest you and bring you into the custody of the People’s Advent to be transferred to the Republican Guard. There you will be afforded the right to counsel,” Alex continued speaking as the man squirmed, trying to get free. “And will receive a fair trial before the Tribunal of Criminal Affairs.”

  “The Tribunal…are you mad?”

  “Until such time, you are required to remain silent unless asked to speak, and anything you say or do shall be used as evidence to incriminate you before the Tribunal.”

  Of course, what Alex did not tell the senator was that, before he received such a trial, and before the Advent turned custody of these prisoners over to the Republican Guard, they were each going to be thoroughly interrogated, including undergoing possible extraction measures. The Advent had gotten serious about eradicating the Rahajiim threat, and now they had the legal power to do so.

  ***

  Sarah stood in the hangar of the Arcane Storm. With the launch bay doors open, it felt unnervingly like there was nothing standing between her and being blown out into the unforgiving clutches of space itself. The navigational shield remained in place, which was how the hangar remained pressurized, but it was an unnerving feeling all the same, staring out at what seemed to be a gaping hole in the ship. It was like gazing out a perfectly transparent window; the experience might have been moving had the view not been marred by the ugly grey-and-white planet dominating most of it.

  The Arcane Storm had entered the Remus System, just like Tristan had said it would, and now the ship held close orbit over the inhospitable planet below. Sarah remembered the look of it: heavy cloud cover, dark oceans that seemed almost black, specks of green or brown peppered here and there. She had not been part of Calvin’s away mission to the surface, though Shen had, and, by the look of him, he seemed less than eager to return to the very place that had changed him. The place that had, according to him, robbed him of his humanity. Sarah did not think so harshly as that; to her, Shen—despite his changes—was every bit the great man he had always been, but as she looked into his hardened face, watching him stare down at the planet with eyes that were filled with contempt, Sarah knew exactly what Shen was thinking.

  “Do you believe them?” she asked, breaking the silence.

  Shen nodded. “I have to believe them. Not because Tristan or any of the others deserves my trust. But because I feel the calling, same as them, we are meant to come back here. Compelled, even. I cannot explain how or why.”

  That was good enough for Sarah, though she didn’t think it made a whole lot of sense. Nothing about the experiments of Remus Nine, and the resulting Remorii, had made any kind of sense to her. Still, things stood as they were. And, if Tristan was to be believed, the time had come for the good Remorii, if there was such a thing, to retake their home and establish a proper colony.

  There were only three problems: firstly, the Enclave, also according to Tristan, had a similar objective, and conflict with the dangerous Strigoi seemed likely. Tristan seemed willing to gamble everything that his forces would prevail against their sworn Remorii enemy, but Sarah was not so sure. Not after hearing the rumors floating about the Nighthawk about what the Strigoi had done to the ISS Trinity—not to mention the hellish little domain they had established on Tybur, feeding off of the people of the Alliance. Their cooperation with the Rotham Republic had apparently broken down, at least, so reported Tristan, and so that led the Strigoi here, perhaps also feeling compelled by the calling.

  The second problem was that Remus Nine was home to hundreds of thousands of Remorii so dangerous, and so feral, that they had driven the lycans and the Strigoi from the planet before. Tristan claimed to have a solution for that but, unfortunately, Sarah had nothing more than his word to go on.

  The third problem was perhaps the easiest to solve, but one that required an important logistical undertaking; the planet presumably had untainted water and could be farmed in due course, but these were only assumptions being made. What if it was discovered that the planet was so inhospitable that the lycans could not make a home there? No one seemed bothered by this but Sarah, but, as she stared down at the grey and white orb below, she couldn’t help but wonder what sort of non-Remorii life, if any, could thrive there.

  They had better not expect Shen and me to live there, thought Sarah, assuming this plan of theirs even works. Which, for all I know, is a complete long-shot.

  “It is time,” said Tristan as he approached. He squeezed in between Sarah and Shen and placed one of his Remorii arms over each of their shoulders, as if they were old chums rather than allies of convenience. Sarah stepped away, removing Tristan’s arm, still not certain how far she could trust him. And wondering, not for the first time, if—despite her feelings for Shen—she had made a brash and foolish mistake in coming here. The Nighthawk’s mission was certainly more important than this, and now she had abandoned the ship, leaving Calvin as its best pilot.

  I hope you still know how to fly the damned bird, she thought. She said a little prayer for him in her head, even though the more she saw of the galaxy the less she believed in a merciful creator. Still, it couldn’t hurt.

  “Is the Enclave here?” asked Shen, still gazing down at the planet below.

  “I am uncertain of that,” said Tristan, still with his arm around Shen’s shoulders. “If their ships are here, the Harbinger will find and destroy them. I have Raidan’s assurances on that count. Not to mention the might of his entire battlegroup.”

  Shen nodded. “And if the Enclave has already dropped off their people and left?”

  “Then there is an answer for that too,” said Tristan, his eyes glowing momentarily red. “But, my friends, one thing at a time. I have gotten us this far safely and soundly, and now it is your turn to do your part.” He looked at Sarah, who had inched herself away from Tristan as he spoke that last part.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll do what you need me to do,” she
said. “Just point to the shuttle, give me thirty-minutes to inspect it and about fifteen to familiarize myself with its controls. After that you’ll have the best pilot in the galaxy delivering you with laser accuracy to whatever godforsaken LZ you wish.” Sarah liked that she didn’t have to abandon the shuttle at any point during this mission, but she hated that Shen seemed required to go with them on the ground. More than required—he wanted to go. Just like last time…

  “The shuttle has already been thoroughly inspected; they all have. If you need time learning the controls, then I suggest you get to it,” said Tristan. “The other ships have begun launching their shuttles and we don’t want to be the last to arrive at the party, now do we? Especially not with the best pilot in the galaxy delivering us to the LZ,” he smiled crookedly.

  “Very well,” said Sarah, folding her arms. “We’ll skip the inspection. Now point.”

  “That one.”

  Of course, Tristan would choose the largest craft docked inside the Arcane Storm. Despite its size, it had capacity for no more than thirty souls—Sarah guessed—and, although it would be difficult to maneuver out of the landing bay, its size should make the descent more stable. From what Calvin had said, Remus Nine’s atmosphere was subject to torrential winds and sudden changes in air pressure. Not a pilot’s favorite flying conditions, but Sarah had enough experience under her belt that she doubted she couldn’t handle whatever Remus Nine decided to throw at her. The real danger would be for those who ended up on the ground. Which, as she was given to understand it, was everyone but her.

  “Let’s go,” she said, leading the way to the shuttle. She climbed the ladder to the old-fashioned cockpit, the type that separated the pilot and co-pilot from the rest of the crew, and sealed it. Only this time there would be no co-pilot, just her. She would need to manage both stations, but it was a challenge for which she was more than suited.