by Jim Proctor
Search for the Phoenix
By Jim Proctor
Book 2 in the Phoenix Series
Copyright 2016 Jim Proctor
All rights reserved
Parental Advisory: This book contains some strong language,
and may not be suitable for young readers.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Edited by Cynthia Shepp
www.cynthiashepp.com
Cover Art Created by Rene Folsom
Phycel Designs Graphic Arts
www.phycel.com
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Epilogue
Other Books by Jim Proctor
Chapter 1
Nolan Peters lay in the dark upon a hard, lumpy cot, wondering when they might come back, and whether they would kill him this time. How long had it been since they last questioned him? How long since his last meal? There was no time here. He’d heard rumors about SACOM’s treatment of detainees, but never imagined he would learn the truth firsthand. It wasn’t as awful as some of the more extreme rumors, but it was bad.
Assuming they were feeding him three meals per day, he’d been here five days. The cell had no window, not even in the door. Some days, they left the light on around the clock, making it difficult for him to sleep. Other days, they only turned on the light when they came to question him, and briefly at mealtimes. The past two days had been dark.
It was quiet here, too. He didn’t know if the cell was soundproofed, or if it was just in a quiet location. Apparently, sensory deprivation was part of their overall interrogation strategy. It was better than the torture. When the lock clicked, it echoed in his ears like a clap of thunder. His muscles tensed, his heart rate accelerating. The door opened, letting in light from the corridor. Nolan shaded his eyes with a hand and sat up.
“On your feet,” boomed a voice. Nolan flinched at the assault on his ears before pushing himself upright. His muscles were stiff and sore from lack of use, not to mention the torture.
“Come with me,” the guard said as he turned and stepped out of the cell.
“Where are you taking me?” Nolan asked.
“Shut up and walk!”
As he stepped out of the cell, he blinked in the brightly lit corridor. The guard gripped him by the arm and led him away from the cell. They had walked some distance and made several turns before Nolan could see his surroundings, not that it would help him in any way. All the doors were identical right down to their complete lack of identifying marks. One would have to have the floor plan of this place memorized in order to go anywhere. They took an elevator up two levels. Stepping out, the guard marched on in silence, leading him by the arm. Halfway down the next corridor, his escort stopped and opened a door. Daylight flooded Nolan’s vision, hurting his eyes. The guard grabbed his arm again and pulled him outside.
He blinked and shaded his eyes again as he looked across the open space. The light of the star overhead warmed his wan skin as he stood there, enjoying the sensation. After five days in a cold cell, it felt good to feel warmth. The guard shoved him forward, abruptly bringing his mind back to his ordeal.
They had questioned him repeatedly regarding the whereabouts of his former boss, Carl Wolfgang Wilkins. They had also been interested in some guy named Lansing, but he had never heard of him.
Determined as they were to get information from him, he had nothing to tell them. The last time he had seen or spoken with Carl was the day the SACOM interceptor had taken them all from the salvage vessel Independence several months earlier. Nolan had read the news of Carl’s trial and had sent him a message the day after, but he had received no reply. If SACOM wanted news of Carl, they were asking the wrong guy. But ask they did. They had even employed a number of techniques intended to loosen his memory, and he had the bruises and marks to show for it.
Of course, if he knew anything, he sure as hell wouldn’t share it with SACOM. Not after what they had done. Becca, John, Vince, and Earl were all dead because of them, and they had pinned it all on Carl. He just couldn’t understand why. Had it all been some tragic mistake? Had SACOM simply needed a scapegoat to cover up their negligence, or had they set Carl and his crew up from the beginning? Either way, SACOM had ruined Carl, and apparently, they weren’t finished with him yet. Now, more than ever, Nolan was determined to find answers.
He didn’t remember the walk across the compound, lost in his thoughts, but he now found himself standing on the sidewalk outside the base. His escort stepped back through the fence and pulled the gate shut with a clang.
“Move along,” said an unfriendly voice. Nolan looked at a group of three armed guards for a moment, and then turned and walked away.
He tried to collect his thoughts. First, he needed to go home and bathe. He smelled so bad he was offending himself, even out here in the open air. He rubbed his chin and added a shave to his agenda. Once he was presentable, he would visit Mick. He was going to need some help, and Mick knew a lot of people in the ‘help’ business.
During his incarceration, he had made up his mind that the first thing he would do would be to steal the Independence and hide it before SACOM could destroy it. He had built the propulsion system and the gravity generator, as well as most of the control systems in the ship. He wasn’t about to let them scrap it and melt it down. Besides, he might need a ship, and the Independence was the fastest privately owned ship in the system. The second thing he planned to do was to find Carl, and a fast ship would almost certainly be needed for that.
* * * *
Washed, shaved, and dressed in clean clothes, Nolan paced back and forth across his living room. To steal the Independence, he would need undocumented transportation to orbit. He would also need at least one false identity, though two would be better. If something went wrong along the way, he might need the second to help him disappear.
Speed was important, but he couldn’t simply disappear from Caldon. He could probably make it look like he had gone to visit his uncle for a few weeks, but he would have to come back home to Dawson before SACOM came looking for him again. The last thing he wanted was to draw their attention to his uncle.
Once he stole the ship, he would need some place to hide it. That would be easy, except that he also needed fast transportation back to Caldon. That meant hiding it on a planet with a direct commercial starliner flight back home. He’d need to get new registration papers for the ship from an outlying colony world, stop somewhere to repaint the markings on the hull, and then land at a port somewhere and park it. But where? He’d figure that ou
t later. In the meantime, he had a lot of work to do and not much time.
He pulled out his data unit and opened an app. It took a moment to acquire the signal through the navigational buoy system, but the Independence was still there, her beacon sending out squawk code 6000 once every ten seconds. Code 6000 was the quarantine code warning all other ships to stay away. He closed the app and slipped the data unit back into his pocket, thankful that SACOM was too short on resources to make destroying the Independence a priority. Still, he knew they wouldn’t leave it there indefinitely. They considered it a biohazard, though Nolan knew it wasn’t. It was also a navigational hazard, sitting there unmanned in Caldon’s heavily traveled space.
His mind was racing as he tried to think of all the logistical details. But one detail loomed in front of him—none of this would be cheap. He would need quick access to a lot of credits, and it would all need to be in chips. Bank transfers and payment cards would be useless. He wanted to go straight to The Cove to see Mick and start things moving, but he had someone he needed to see first. Everything hinged on this first stop.
* * * *
Nolan paused at the door, reluctant to do what he had come for. She was grieving and needed time to heal, but time was not something he could spare right now. He knocked lightly on the door. A moment passed without an answer, and he suddenly realized he’d been holding his breath. Allowing himself to breathe, he knocked again. As he waited, he convinced himself that he shouldn’t be here. There had to be another way, one that wouldn’t open her wounds again. She didn’t deserve this. Turning, he walked quietly but quickly toward the elevator.
He pressed the call button to go down and waited, watching the indicator as the elevator worked its way up from the lobby, stopping occasionally along the way. A chime pinged, and Nolan looked at the opening door. There she was. Megan was a bit taller than he was, with shoulder-length brown hair full of dense curls. Her brown eyes were bright and clear, unlike the bloodshot, tearful mess they were the last time he had seen her. She was wearing her Emergency Medical Technician uniform, and had a bright orange medical bag hung from her shoulder. Her cinnamon skin, what little was showing, was just as beautiful as he remembered.
“Nolan!” she said as she stepped out of the elevator. She threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. “What a wonderful surprise to see you here.” The elevator door closed behind her. There was no way he could excuse himself and slip away.
He put his arms around her and returned the hug. “I came to see you, but…”
Megan released him and stepped back, still smiling. “But… what?” she coaxed.
“I came to ask you for help, but I’ve changed my mind. I can’t drag you through everything again. It just isn’t fair,” he said.
She slipped an arm around his shoulders, steered him in the direction of her apartment, and began walking. “Nolan, we’re practically family. You know I’d do anything I can to help you.” As they reached the door, the lock clicked in response to her data unit’s proximity. She opened the door and led Nolan inside. “Come, sit down and relax for a few minutes while I change out of my uniform. Then you can tell me what sort of help you need.” She set her medical bag on a table and disappeared down the hallway. Nolan sat in a chair in her living room and agonized over what to say, but all he could think about was how devastated she had been at John’s funeral. Thirty-nine years old, and she’d lost her husband. She and John had met on a starliner when he’d visited the medical unit, and their romance took off. They’d been together for fourteen years, and married for twelve.
John had been one of the four crew members killed several months ago working on the SACOM contract. Megan had received a quarter of Carl’s liquid assets after his trial. At John’s funeral, she had told Nolan she wanted to know who was responsible, and if the credits could help get answers, she would gladly give them all up. He took a deep breath, resolving to go through with this as much for Megan’s sake as anyone’s.
A movement caught his eye, and he turned to see Megan emerge from the hallway wearing shorts and a T-shirt. Nolan’s stomach became a butterfly cage. “You look great,” he said.
She smiled. “Thanks. You’ve put on a little weight, I see. That’s a compliment, by the way.”
Nolan nodded. “Carl always said I was too thin. I’ve been exercising, and I’ve been better about not missing meals.”
She laughed. “Yes, John often told me how you would get so wrapped up in modifications to the drive system or the gravgen that you would work all day without eating. Becca and John had an agreement that the next time you tried to work through a meal, they would pick you up bodily and carry you out to a restaurant to make you eat.”
Nolan felt the bottom fall out of his heart, but he tried to hide it. Becca had been one of the four, also. As he forced his own grief away, he noticed the sadness in Megan’s eyes that hadn’t been there a few minutes ago. Her smile was gone, too. This was definitely a bad idea. She didn’t need this aggravation, and she certainly didn’t deserve it.
“Anyway,” she said, wiping her eyes, “you said you needed my help.”
“It’s not important,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Don’t even try to play games with me, Nolan Peters! You came here because you needed help. What can I do?” she asked.
He looked into her eyes for a moment, unsure if he should tell her what he’d been through. Still, it was an important part of the story. “I’ve just come from five days in a SACOM interrogation cell.”
“Oh, Nolan!” she gasped. “That’s terrible. Are you okay?”
“I’ll be fine. They weren’t too rough, this time. If they come for me again, I expect they’ll step up the pressure,” he said.
“Why did they take you? What were they after?” she asked.
“For some reason, they are desperate to find Carl.”
“Why would they want to find him now? Hell, they had him in their custody when they tried him. Did they think of something new they want to do to him?” she asked.
“I don’t know, but I think it’s bigger than just Carl. They also asked me about some guy named Lansing, and a ship called Phoenix. I’ve never heard of either of them.”
Megan looked thoughtful for a moment. “I don’t like this. Something big is going on, and whatever it is, SACOM is keeping it hidden and rounding up innocent people for questioning. What are you going to do?”
“What do you mean?” Nolan asked.
“You came here for my help, and it has something to do with SACOM looking for Carl. You have a plan of some sort,” she answered.
Nolan nodded. “I really hate to ask this, but are you still willing to finance a covert look into what really happened and who is responsible for… the deaths?” he asked.
She nodded. “Of course. You know I don’t care about the credits. I never thought it was fair to Carl. I’d have given it all back to him, but he vanished before SACOM finally made the transfer.”
“According to the press reports, SACOM transferred Carl’s credits to you and the other families the day of his trial,” Nolan said.
She shook her head. “It was weeks before I got it. I kept asking them when I would get it because I knew Carl would need it. They gave me excuses and they gave me dates that went by without any transfer.”
Nolan nodded. “I shouldn’t be surprised. If you’re willing to help, I’m going to set some things in motion. The first will be to steal the Independence. It belongs to Carl, and SACOM has no right to destroy it.”
“Good,” Megan said. “Then what?”
“Then I’ll start digging to find out what happened to Carl. If anyone knows who set us up, he does. The key to finding him may be this Lansing guy. If I can locate Carl, I’ll need a ship to pick him up, and I can’t think of a better choice than the Independence.”
“You can count on me. Whatever you need, you’ve got it,” she said.
“Okay. Then I’ll get started,” he said as he s
tood. Megan walked him to the door where Nolan turned and hugged her. “I’m sorry about John.”
She held him tightly for a moment. “We were all like one big family. I know it hurts you, too. Find out who was responsible.” She patted him on the back and then released him. With a nod, he turned and stepped into the corridor.
* * * *
Nolan stepped into The Cove. Eddie, the bouncer, rested a large hand on his shoulder. “It’s good to see you, Mr. Peters.” Nolan had always come here with Carl, and it had been Carl who had been the focus of Eddie and Mick’s attention. He’d just been one of Carl’s guys standing in the boss’s shadow. Eddie’s sudden familiarity only reinforced the fact that Carl was gone.
“Thanks, Eddie,” he said with a smile, patting the man’s muscular forearm before turning and continuing across the room to the far end of the bar, taking Carl’s favorite seat, the last stool by the wall.
The place was just as he remembered it. Walls paneled with dark-stained planks, hung with reproduction antique artifacts from the days of ocean-sailing ships on Earth. Then there were the stuffed fish, seashells, and fishing nets. This place was the polar opposite of eclectic. The decorator had been utterly single-minded in the interior design.
“Hey, Nolan, it’s been a while. What can I get you?” asked Mick, the bartender.
“Do you have Kellan’s on tap?” he asked.
Mick nodded. “Coming right up,” he said as he pulled a large glass mug from a freezer under the bar. Frost formed on the mug as Mick filled it and placed it in front of him.
“Thanks. There’s something else I need,” he said. Mick caught his tone and saw his expression, leaning closer. “I am going to need some very specialized help, and I’ll need it quickly,” Nolan said in a soft voice. Mick nodded, and Nolan went on in a whisper, “I’m going to need undocumented transportation to orbit. I’ll need new registration papers for the Independence. I’ll also need new identification for myself. Two IDs would be preferable, including captain’s papers.”
