“I am prepared for the Essences to show us their will,” Rez’nac replied. “Let the Arahn-Fi commence!”
With that he took a step closer to his son and drew his dagger. Grimka did the same. As opponents, they circled each other for a moment, sizing up the other. Rez’nac searched his soul for the strength to lash out against his own son, knowing it had to be there. For honor required it. And there was none more honorable than Khalahar. His own Essence.
The three witnesses began chanting, speaking the harmonious poetry that was a symbol of the Arahn-Fi, calling forth the collective souls of the Essences to take possession of the bodies of the combatants and show them—the witnesses—their will.
Grimka attacked first. He lunged and Rez’nac easily deflected the blade. Grimka opened himself up with his failed attack and Rez’nac sent him a swift punch to the face. His hard knuckles cracked against Grimka’s cheek, tearing his coarse blue skin, and the younger Polarian recoiled.
Rez’nac did not press his advantage, though, and instead waited for Grimka to recover and come at him again. Hoping that somehow Grimka would see the madness of his deeds and try to declare an end to the Arahn-Fi—even though such was strictly disallowed. Yielding to Rez’nac would cost Grimka his honor, but allow him to hold onto his life. Rez’nac hoped Grimka would take that option, and he wondered if that made him a bad father to value his son’s life more than his son’s honor. And, deep inside, he knew it did. And that pained him.
Grimka attacked again, carving and slicing through the air with his fierce dagger. Its razor-honed edge glimmered in the flight deck’s lights and Rez’nac had to duck and roll to the side to evade the attack.
Grimka became angry that his attacks were not finding their target and, showing the bright blue of embarrassment in his face, he gritted his teeth and growled. He cursed Rez’nac in the foulest of the forgotten tongues, and then charged him.
Rez’nac stood his ground. It was time for him to teach his son a lesson. His son who had defied him, and who had murdered one of the humans, and who had summoned this Arahn-Fi madness even though he could not prevail and the Essences would not favor him.
Grimka slashed his dagger at Rez’nac who deflected the blow with his arm. Grimka then threw a punch at Rez’nac’s face and connected hard, throwing all his weight and momentum into it. But still Rez’nac remained standing, allowing the force of the blow to flow through him. It hurt, and part of him wanted to scream or lash out in response to the pain, but he’d trained himself long ago to be his own master. The pain was merely the dark part of his soul rebelling against him, confused and out-of-place—much like Grimka—and Rez’nac would not submit to it.
With his free arm he caught Grimka by the throat. His fingers seized the younger Polarian tightly. He held him close and stared into the younger Polarian’s eyes. As if trying to see into his soul and understand why Grimka had fallen so far from the path of honor.
Grimka squirmed and struggled against his father’s iron grip and made another attempt to stab him. This time the dagger glanced off the ceremonial breastplate. Rez’nac knocked the dagger aside and it scraped across the deck, stopping several meters away.
Grimka crashed his head down, bashing Rez’nac with his forehead. Their ceremonial helmets collided with surprising force but, once more, Rez’nac ignored the pain and Grimka seemed to get the worst of it.
“Submit,” Rez’nac whispered, still staring into the eyes of his son. With his free hand he raised his dagger until it was poised to deliver the fatal blow; it gleamed menacingly for all to see.
Grimka glanced at it, then back to Rez’nac. Fear showed in his eyes. Utter terror. Rez’nac knew what it was when he saw it. But somehow Grimka did not allow that fear to overpower him. He swallowed hard, closing his eyes for a moment, then opened them again and showed his defiance.
“Never,” said Grimka. “I will go to the Essences and take my rightful place. But I will never yield during an Arahn-Fi. I would never dishonor myself or my Essence. My soul is at peace. Do what you must, Father.”
Rez’nac was a little taken aback, he had never seen nor expected this kind of fire from his son before. The young Polarian was strong and stubborn, and a devout—if a bit misguided—follower of their ways, but he had never shown this kind of strength before. And so strong was his conviction that it made Rez’nac almost doubt his own. Had he led them astray?
“Finish it,” screeched Hrokki from the side. The other two witnesses joined their voices to his. “Finish it. Finish the Arahn-Fi. Complete the will of the Essences!”
Rez’nac glanced at them, then turned back to Grimka who no longer struggled to break free of his grip. Grimka nodded. “Do it, father.”
Rez’nac tightened his grip on his dagger and readied to plunge it into Grimka’s throat. He wanted to give his son a quick death, if he could. With no more pain than the Essences deemed necessary.
“Forgive me,” whispered Rez’nac. He blamed himself, above all, for failing Grimka as a father. For allowing Grimka to become the rebellious spirit that he’d become. That the Essences now demanded be purged from the galaxy.
“Complete the Arahn-Fi,” the witnesses continued to shout.
Rez’nac closed his eyes—the first time he’d ever closed his eyes to an act of violence he’d committed himself to—and then thrust the dagger toward Grimka. As he did, their memories together seemed to flow through his mind. He recalled the youth as an infant. Remembered caring for him. And in his memory of Grimka he saw the face of the female that had birthed him.
The dagger’s course did not remain true. It glanced off the edge of the breastplate, well short of Grimka’s exposed neck. And Rez’nac knew why. It hadn’t been the dagger that had failed to be true, nor was Rez’nac so poor a warrior that his blade could not find its mark—rather it was Rez’nac himself who had failed to remain true. In the end he lacked the conviction to do as the Essences demanded and slay his own son. It was he who was unworthy.
There was a reaction of surprise from the other Polarians who seemed confused why the fatal blow failed to reach its target. Rez’nac tossed the blade aside and let go of his son. “I yield the Arahn-Fi,” he said, knowing his shame.
He looked down, unable to meet the gazes of the surprised Polarians. This was surely the outcome they’d least expected.
“The will of the Essences has been determined,” declared Grimka. He took both his and Rez’nac’s fallen daggers and wore them as trophies. “I am the master here now.”
The three witnesses bowed their heads to Grimka. Rez’nac looked at them, then looked at Grimka. But he did not bow his head. Though he accepted the outcome.
“I hereby declare you, Rez’nac, formerly my father, and formerly of the Essence of Khalahar, stripped of all honor and all positions,” said Grimka without remorse. “You are cursed to wander as a dark spirit. Lost forever. Free and unjoined. Never to find home in the Essences again.”
Rez’nac looked at him unblinking. He’d known this to be the price of his mercy. Of his weakness. But he had no regrets. And he realized finally that Grimka’s flaws and weaknesses truly were the fault of his father.
The Polarians each in turn turned their backs to Rez’nac, and completed the short and brutal ritual of the unjoining. It was painful seeing them turn away from him, and more painful still knowing that he would never have a place among the honored dead, but he accepted that the will of the Essences had indeed been revealed. They were right, he was unworthy to lead them. Any Polarian who could not complete an Arahn-Fi was no kind of leader.
The truth was what it was. Unflinching. And a respecter of no one.
***
“So why did you choose to trust the Nighthawk to get you to Capital World safely?” asked Calvin. He and Kalila sat on the bed in crew quarters 503, which had been hastily converted to be made as luxurious as possible for the princess—unfortunately the Nighthawk had little luxury to offer.
“You were the only one I knew for cer
tain was not working for the corrupt elements inside our military,” she gave him a candid look. It made him feel warm. “That and your ship has stealth technology that will be useful. The Black Swan doesn’t have the ability to go places unseen and unnoticed like the Nighthawk.”
“But it could have gotten you to Capital World,” Calvin pressed. “Surely you don’t think your enemies would move against you and your ship at Capital World, within sight of the King, your father. Surely he could have protected you, and made sure you got a fair hearing to show your evidence.”
“Alas, I would never make it. The Black Swan would certainly be detected on approach and intercepted. And, for all its armor and firepower, it would still be overpowered and captured by the forces pursuing it. If not destroyed… Even now it’s being chased by enough ships to pulverize it. Let us hope that Captain Adiger is clever enough to keep the ship and her crew intact, and our enemies distracted, long enough for me to clear the charges against us and call off the hunt in the name of the King.”
Calvin nodded. He understood Kalila’s plan, and knew that there were police, imperial marshals, Intel Wing operatives, military vessels, and all sorts of people on the lookout for Kalila. And that protecting her, and her information, until she could clear her name was of critical importance. Their enemies, no doubt, would do everything in their power to prevent Kalila from making it before the Assembly to share her evidence—which would undoubtedly clear her name. That meant they had to be careful along the way, and make no mistakes. Calvin couldn’t help but let it get to his head a little that he’d been the one entrusted with the assignment of escorting her—even if he was the logical choice and perhaps the only one available.
“The Nighthawk can get you to Capital World, but it won’t be able to dock with any of the stations or ships there—nor will we be able to deactivate our stealth system, if we did we would be fired upon ourselves. But if we remain stealthed we should be all right.” Calvin wondered if that was even true. Twice now other ships had seemed able to see through his stealth system—first at Abia when the Rotham squadron matched his movements, then later Nimoux’s ship seemed able to track them. If such new advanced detection technology had been developed, it would surprise him if it wasn’t installed into the Capital World defense grid.
“I understand that,” she said. “There is a ship waiting for us, it will meet us in open space near the Capital System. The Ice Maiden, it’s a civilian ship owned by friends of my family. Distantly connected, but extremely loyal friends…”
Calvin thought the name of the ship would be a perfect fit for Summers if she ever captained a vessel. “Go on.”
“That ship will ferry us to Capital World. There we’ll dock with the station and arrange transport to the surface.”
“Us?” asked Calvin. They hadn’t taken anyone on board from the Black Swan other than Kalila herself.
“Yes,” said Kalila. She put her hand on his wrist and looked him in the eyes. “When I go, I want you to come with me.”
Calvin’s heart beat inside him like a machine-gun and his blood quickened, but for all the excitement this opportunity gave him, there was also hesitation and confusion. He couldn’t leave the Nighthawk, could he? Of all the places in the universe this was the only one that was truly his… On the other hand he couldn’t really abandon the princess to some strangers on the Ice Maiden and expect her to safely arrive at the Assembly Floor. That wouldn’t be seeing the job through to completion.
Most of all he relished the chance to spend more time with the princess, whose commanding presence, aura of mystery, and rich, elegant beauty were only meager parts of the great, woven tapestry of her intoxicating allure. He tried not to let these feelings influence his decision, but hey had a powerful effect.
“Don’t you want to come with me?” she looked into his eyes.
“Yes, of course, absolutely I do,” he said, his words nearly stutter. “I just need to figure out what’s best for the ship, and the crew, and—”
She placed a delicate finger on his lips to silence him. Then, very quietly and simply she explained, “you will come with me and see that I arrive safely before the Assembly. There I will clear my name before the Empire. Once I’ve had my authority reinstated, I will clear your name as well. And appoint you to lead an investigation into the corruption on Capital World. We will scour the planet, dig up the ones responsible, and put them to justice.” A kind of fire showed in her eyes. “You are the one I choose to lead that investigation. Don’t you want that?”
“Yes,” he said immediately, before even thinking about it. He hated the effect she had on him—and yet he loved it at the same time. Still, as his mind tried to beat down the burning feelings of his heart, and take hold of his senses, there did seem to be a logic to her plan.
“Good,” she smiled and let go of him.
He reminded himself that he’d always intended to go down to the surface of Capital World, if he could—without being arrested, to find his missing friend Rafael. To discover what’d happened to him and make sure he was all right. Once he was leading Kalila’s taskforce to search out the corruption, looking for Rafael would be a natural part of that investigation. This was his ticket. He hadn’t planned on leaving the Nighthawk for an extended period of time—in his mind he’d wanted to get in, rescue Rafael, and get out—but he knew that wasn’t very likely. He also knew that the Nighthawk couldn’t be sitting idle near Capital System. Even with its stealth system it was bound to be detected eventually. And it was still in dire need of repair and resupply. He knew that going with Kalila meant sending the Nighthawk away and not seeing it again for a while. Which was a decision that gave him considerably more grief than he would have expected. But he gradually warmed to the reasoning behind it.
“When we go aboard the Ice Maiden, we’ll need proper paperwork and well-designed cover identities,” he said. “And we can’t use any that have been made by Intel Wing, those will be flagged for sure.”
“Yes, I have been thinking you would see to the details of that. No doubt your ship and crew are trained and equipped to handle such logistics.”
She was right, they were. That was a good portion of what Intel Wing did. “It won’t be a problem,” he said. “We’ll just have to think of our cover story, who we are and why we’re traveling together, and then I’ll speak to the quartermaster about—”
“How about newlyweds returning from our honeymoon?” she asked. Her voice was innocent and implied nothing but she did take his hand and hold it as she made the suggestion.
Again Calvin felt a jolt of energy fire through his body. Was she serious? He looked at her, seeing all of her beauty and her mystery, her white perfect smile and raven hair, and those dark eyes that concealed so much and yet seemed to draw him in invitingly. “I think that sounds like a perfect idea,” he said.
“Good.” She let go of his hand and stood up. She went to one of her bags that had been carried there and began rummaging through it. Calvin watched her. Pretending for a moment, in his mind, that he was a newly married man and the beautiful young woman before him was, in fact, his wife. It was a strange feeling. And yet… compelling. He’d never relished the idea of commitment before—on the contrary it had always terrified him—and yet, here, with her, it didn’t seem so bad. Attractive even…
He shook the thought away, reminding himself that it was all pretend. All part of a grand lie to serve an ulterior purpose—to get Kalila safely before the Assembly, to clear her name, and then they could begin the investigation that would uproot and eliminate the Phoenix Ring forever.
“I think I’m going to get some rest now, I’m quite tired,” said Kalila, finding what she was looking for in her bag. “If you don’t mind seeing that the door locks on your way out.”
Calvin jumped up and walked to the door. “Of course, sleep well.”
“Thanks, honey,” she gave him a teasing look.
It stunned him for a moment until he realized she was making a joke o
f their new cover story. He wasn’t sure what to say so he just smiled, gave her a polite nod, and left.
Chapter 9
The Harbinger finished its twenty-third orbit of the Lyra Minor sun before another ship was seen entering the system. Raidan stood on the dreadnought’s massive bridge, which was occupied by dozens of crewmen and seemingly countless computer stations. The bridge lights were off—as were all lights adjacent to a window—to help the ship remain as stealthy as possible. In addition, the ship’s weapons were charged and ready and the shields were on standby—ready to be raised at a second’s notice.
Since arrival, Raidan had been waiting impatiently, wanting the answers to his questions and ready to communicate his urgent news to Calvin. He knew the Harbinger could hold its own in a straight fight against any other single ship, but there were dozens of warships unaccounted for now, and hundreds more throughout the galaxy with hostile intentions. Eventually the Phoenix Ring would try to corner the Harbinger—and when it did its goal would be to take the ship out, and Raidan, once and for all. Raidan did not intend to make it easy.
“Entry signature appearing,” reported Mister Ivanov, the lead operations officer. The junior lieutenant assisting him managed several screens—no doubt using the Harbinger’s vast scopes to track everything within a click, while the operations chief kept his attention on the arriving ship.
“How many ships?” asked Raidan. He was expecting two—the Nighthawk and the Arcane Storm, any more and it was a potential threat to the Harbinger, and any less and something had gone wrong.
“Only one ship, sir,” said Mister Ivanov. “Small cruiser class… looks to be the Arcane Storm.”
In the distance there was a flash and through the window a tiny speck of light could be seen. The 3d display updated and locked onto the new ship signature, it displayed the familiar hull of the Arcane Storm.
The Phoenix Crisis Page 10
