The Phoenix Crisis

by Richard L. Sanders

  Unfortunately Calvin’s people had swept Zane’s estate looking for him and found him absent. A general order had been sent to police agencies across the planet to arrest him if he was spotted, and all means of traffic off-world were being watched, but Zane had vanished like a ghost. And though Calvin had people searching all of the billionaire’s properties, so far nothing had turned up. Rafael had identified a few other people and Calvin’s captives managed to give him names of other people who were high-ranking members of the Phoenix Ring. Calvin had put out a similar order for all of them to be rounded up but, like Zane, they seemed to have disappeared into thin air.

  “I think Zane is probably hiding there,” said Rafael. “But I’m not so sure about the others, what makes you think they would be there too? For them all to be together, that seems like an unnecessary risk to me.”

  “It’s a tremendous risk,” said Calvin. “But I have information that says that the Phoenix Ring Council has always planned to meet together when the Ascension comes.” He’d heard this from Rosemarie. She hadn’t been able to identify any of the Council’s members. But she did know that there was something happening called Ascension, and that—when the time was right—the leadership would all meet together. And, as a united group, observe the flames of Ascension. Calvin assumed Ascension referred to the transfer of the throne from the Akira House to another House, possibly the Martels.

  “Then assuming Ascension is happening now, or about to happen,” said Rafael, “then yes, you’re likely correct.”

  “There is a vote scheduled which will directly challenge the king,” said Calvin. “I’d bet anything that’s what Ascension is.”

  “In that case we don’t have much time,” said Rafael. He sat up and started climbing out of the medical bed.

  “You’re right,” said Calvin. “We need to act now.” He sprinted from the room, needing to contact Kalila immediately and organize his forces. They had a target. Now all they had to do was swoop in and capture the Phoenix Ring leaders before the Assembly finished the vote.

  ***

  There was a moment of darkness. And, for as long as it lasted, everything was as silent as it was black. Empty. Vacuous. Like an eternal stretch of space absent of any stars. It was neither bleak, nor full of despair. Nor was it pleasant, nor warm, nor peaceful. Simply, it was nothing.

  Nothing—for millions of centuries. Or millionths of a second. There was no way to tell. But eventually, in the very far distance, a tiny light appeared. Splitting the blackness like a ray of sunlight through an open curtain. The light grew, peeling away the darkness until it had vanished.

  Shen blinked. Feeling the sting of light just above shining down into his eyes. His eyes watered and as he blinked again, to clear away the moisture, much of the blurriness he saw dissipated and everything became much clearer.

  He was staring up at the ceiling of the infirmary; he recognized the white ceiling. But had no memory of how he got there, or what was going on. He tried to sit up but could not. Several firm restraints were wrapped around his arms and legs, pinning him tightly against the medical bed.

  As he moved, he felt cold gloved hands touch his head on either side, helping to support his neck. And a woman’s masked face leaned over him shining a tiny bright light into his eyes. He squinted and tried to speak. He didn’t hear the words come out, though he could feel his jaws move. For that matter he couldn’t hear anything, he realized.

  The doctor leaning over him must have heard something though. Her brilliant blue eyes lit up with excitement and she looked up, ostensibly saying something to others who were around. A tangle of red hair was partially visible under her surgical cap. In a flash Shen remembered who she was. Rain, the physician who’d replaced Monte Blair. That meant he was on the Nighthawk.

  She moved her hands down to his straps and began loosening them. A man rushed to her side to help; he wore camouflage fatigues and had broad shoulders. His big square hands were far better than Rain’s at undoing the restraints. Shen did not recognize him, though. If he knew the man, he no longer remembered him.

  Once the final restraint was taken away, Shen managed to sit up. It proved more difficult than he’d expected. His limbs were sore and weak and he felt a throbbing ache across his entire body. When he moved, his muscles would seize up randomly, screaming at him in pain. And all the while a feeling of dizziness and nausea haunted him. But, as soon as he was sitting up—and could see the others in the room, now rushing to his side—none of his agony mattered.

  Two big, beautiful brown eyes met his. Hers were red and glistening with tears. An expression of joy was painted on her sweet, delicate face and she brushed her lovely flow of brown hair aside as she came to him. Light shone from her eyes and she smiled. It was the sweetest, tenderest, most glorious sight he had ever seen. She spoke quickly, animatedly, flashing her beautiful pearl-white teeth. But Shen could not hear her. That didn’t seem to matter though. Soaking in the sight of Sarah, and seeing how much she cared—it was the greatest feeling he had ever felt. She took his stiff hand in hers. He could barely feel her, but he imagined how warm and soft her skin was. Seeing her, and feeling her—as little as he could—gave him the greatest feeling of peace he ever remembered feeling. And, somehow, the pain, and the dizziness, and the nausea, all seemed to subside.

  The others came to his bedside too. Shen looked at them. Seeing faces he knew and faces he didn’t. A big round, red face that beamed down at him was Miles. He seemed almost as happy as Sarah. Another woman was there too. She kept her distance and watched without expression but he knew her porcelain face, emerald eyes, and flowing golden hair. Summers Presley…

  The other two Shen did not recognize. They both wore camouflage and carried weapons for some reason—Shen couldn’t imagine why they were needed in the infirmary. They watched him with hawk eyes. Almost seeming suspicious of him. Shen didn’t care though. They were both a couple of muscle-headed idiots like the rest of special forces, he was sure. What mattered to Shen was his friends and they were all here. All but one…

  He looked around, expecting to see Calvin. But Calvin was nowhere to be found. It made Shen a little sad. But he told himself that Calvin was probably needed somewhere else. That his friend, the man he most respected, would see him soon. Everything could be like it used to be…

  Sarah squeezed his hand a bit harder and spoke something, Shen still couldn’t hear her nor could he read her lips. Rain returned to his side and adjusted some of the equipment. As she worked, adjusting a computer that was tied to an IV that stuck into his arm, Shen listened to the silence and wondered if he would ever hear again.

  As if in answer to his question, his ears filled with a faint ringing.

  Chapter 32

  Kalila heard from Calvin that he had leads on who many of the Phoenix Ring leaders were—a group of civilian and military leaders known as the Council. Calvin also told her that he knew where they were likely hiding, and he was going after them. All Kalila could think was how sweet it would be when the perpetrators were finally brought to justice.

  The political game in the Assembly had become increasingly delicate. And as news and rumors came in from the far reaches of the Empire, all of it ranging from bad to worse, Kalila found that her bloc of supporters was swiftly abandoning her. She considered bringing her father in, or one of her older siblings—despite the breach in protocol that would represent—but she knew it would serve no purpose. There was nothing any of them could do that she could not, and such a gesture would simply weaken her position in the minds of her allies. Showing the Akira House, the proudest and noblest of the Great Houses, to be desperate.

  Now, however, there was effectively nothing more she could do. She would try to stall the vote, any way she could, but for every measure she tried to raise for debate and every wrench she threw in to slow the process, Caerwyn Martel was there to counter her. To have her motions dismissed. To have her filibuster tactics squelched by a majority Vote to Progress—which had be
en written into the Assembly rules as a way to prevent a minority power from holding the majority of the Representatives hostage and blocking political progress by creating a gridlock. The King himself had endorsed those measures years before when they’d been introduced. Now, though, they came back to haunt him. And they made it very difficult for Kalila to defend him, and herself, and her family. The Empire needed the Akira family at its helm, the same way a colony of bees needed its queen. Without them, without her father, the Empire would splinter apart. She knew it. And she hated that her enemies, whoever they were, seemed so very close to success. And there was so precious little she could do now to stop them.

  Calvin will stop them, she told herself. He will arrest them. And then bring them immediately before the Assembly where the conspiracy would be exposed. Caerwyn would be able to do nothing about it—especially when his role in the dark sedition was revealed. Then justice would be served, the King’s crown made secure, and the Empire would be swept clean inside and out. Like a controlled fire purging away the sick, rotten, dead branches but sparing the healthy part of the tree. Once it was done there would be no one left who was strong enough to oppose and endanger them. Not the Rotham Republic. Not the Polarian Confederacy. No one. And then humanity would prosper once more.

  It all depended on the next few hours

  Kalila arranged for her forces to be standing by, ready to storm the Admiralty and ready to flood the Assembly Floor with additional security and protection. Once Calvin had custody of the traitors and brought them here, they needed to be kept safe and alive long enough to make their confessions. Or be found guilty. If there was going to be a violent response to Calvin’s and Kalila’s actions, Kalila would be ready for it. Soldiers loyal to her House and soldiers loyal to the king were ordered to stand by.

  The next moments were critical. And Kalila would do all she could to ensure the safety of her father’s throne.

  ***

  The Rotham Republic now had a legitimate claim to Renora, which gave them a foothold inside the Empire. Zane wasn’t happy about that—he’d never been happy with that part of the plan—but he’d always understood the necessity. Now it was more necessary than ever. Things were bad with the Rahajiim, the worst they’d ever been. And they’d taken the Organization’s bait and now blamed the Phoenix Ring for the attack on their soil. The ongoing slaughter of countless Rotham on Cepheus. Hopefully the acquisition of Renora would placate the Rahajiim for a little while, but there was no way to be sure. Eventually there would be war, Zane was certain of it, but hopefully not until after Ascension was complete.

  He stood in the inner sanctum of the bunker. It was a plush, well-decorated room with a mahogany conference table and several expensive chairs around it. The doors were thick and secure, and were vigilantly guarded by a small army of mercenaries. Wanting to buy their deepest loyalty, Zane had paid them, and paid them well. None of these guards would ever have to work again after this. They just had to ensure the safety of Zane and the rest of the Council—who sat around the conference table debating some of the finer points of Post-Ascension. All were present. Every last one. And, as his eyes drank them in, Zane knew in his heart that the time was fast approaching. “This is for real,” he whispered.

  “Mister Martel,” the mercenary captain walked up to him and saluted. Zane simply regarded him with his eyes. “The bunker is secure, sir.”

  Zane looked from him, to the other guards, to the thick metal doors, and imagined all of the other many soldiers he’d taken into his employ. Together—here—they would ride out the storm. His precautions were many and he had spared no expense with his defense, but was it truly enough to be deemed secure? Was anything?

  “Stay vigilant,” he said, and swept for his seat at the head of the conference table. Upon reaching it, he did not sit down though. Rather he stood, waiting for the noise of conversation to die, and for all eyes to fall on him.

  Half a minute later the room was silent and thickly tense. His eyes moved from Councilman to Councilman. It was with these faces that he’d imagined the perfect Empire. And was with them that he would see it born. From ashes to ashes. From dust to dust. Into the fire. And into the sun. Rebirth. Renewal. Glory. “Ascension is nigh,” he said. “The hour swiftly approaches.”

  “Hear, hear!” shouted Vance Tyler. Other voices joined his. He waited for the noise to die down before continuing.

  “The vote is scheduled to happen. There is no stopping it now,” said Zane. “Truly, there never was any stopping it. Our destiny has always been written in the stars. And from the stars, our glory.”

  More cheers. Mixed with applause. He saw the excited looks on the others’ faces. Saw the energy coursing through them, more eager than they’d ever been. Even paranoid Rita Donovan looked smug and secure, feeling safe in this hidden fortress. Surrounded by steel walls and an army of men. None of them knew how delicate everything was. How much danger remained.

  Zane knew that the Rahajiim were still out there, brooding, biding their time, full of darkness and hate. He also knew that the Executor hunted for them. That he’d raided the Phoenix Ring’s dark dungeons and taken prisoners. Prisoners who would talk. Prisoners whose deaths Zane should have ordered but he’d failed to act in time. No matter, he thought. They will come. The dogs of war will come. But they will not come swiftly enough. Ascension will happen. And when it does—no one shall oppose me. No one could ever hope to oppose the Phoenix Ring once the mightiest Empire in the history of the universe lay in the palm of his hand. He needed only to remain safe a little while longer.

  “Now we wait,” he said. “Wait to embrace our destiny.”

  They cheered him, louder than ever. And not just the Council but the guards too. The sanctum rang with the echo of cheers. Zane raised both arms triumphantly until they were all silent. Then he headed for the door, allowing the Council to resume its inane prattling. He’d called in every favor. Spent all he could spend on defending this facility. But Zane knew he could never feel truly safe, not until he’d made one final call. Everything was on the table now. It was all or nothing.

  ***

  Blackmoth was almost through cleaning the handgun when the call came. He wasn’t expecting it, but knew better than to be surprised. The One True God worked in transcendent ways, ways that defied Blackmoth’s ability to predict. No mere mortal could predict them, such was their immaculate beauty.

  The call came from a false master. The request was urgent. More urgent than any he’d ever received from a false master before. And unusual too. Something he wasn’t used to. The false master offered him riches of all persuasions from all corners of the galaxy, but they meant nothing to him. Blackmoth had to pray. And pray he did. Was this the will of the One True God? He asked mightily. And mightily came the reply.

  The One True God agreed.

  Blackmoth was bound.

  “I’ll do it,” he said, now re-assembling the handgun. I am but a mere vessel, a tool in the fingers of the One True God.

  Chapter 33

  Calvin had been tempted to use his authority as Executor of the Empire to take command of whole companies of marines, and deploy several platoons throughout the district. Giving the Phoenix Ring bunker a systematic, vice-grip like squeeze. No one would be going in or out. No one would escape. He would capture them, storming their bunker with overwhelming force. And had this been a traditional war, Calvin would have certainly chosen such a tactic.

  However, the intelligence officer in Calvin knew that was a bad idea, not only would it take longer to arrange logistically, it gave his enemies more opportunity to learn what he was doing and make preparations. It would also maximize the number of friendly casualties—which he wanted to keep as close to zero as possible—and would be seen by the Assembly as a reason to panic. The Representatives might think Calvin was massing a force to move against them, or against the innocent civilians of Capital World—perhaps likening it to what had happened on Renora—which might lead them to accelerate
their vote. Of critical importance was that Calvin took the Phoenix Ring leaders into custody and exposed the conspiracy before the King had been driven from the throne. Nothing else mattered. And now everything seemed to hinge on him.

  “Execute operation,” he said into his headset radio once he’d been told his people were in position. He stared out the window of his car for a while, watching the buildings seem to fly past as his motorcade raced to the scene. He wore a tactical vest, a helmet, and protective gear, and was armed with a carbine and a sidearm. Rafael and Nikolai were there too, and similarly equipped. Neither probably should have been there with him, not after the injuries they’d received. But both had been eager to head to the front lines and be there by his side.

  Nikolai managed his injuries—which included tissue, bone, and organ damage—via a system of intense pain medications. That and an iron-like force of will. As for Rafael, who was missing two fingers and wore an eye-patch over his empty socket, he held a one-handed sub-machinegun rather than a carbine and flashed a grin of determination. He seemed strongly motivated to go after Zane Martel, perhaps wanting revenge.

  “Roger,” crackled the reply over the radio. “Alpha and Bravo are mobile.”

  Calvin wished he could be there with Alpha and Bravo teams as they closed in on the Phoenix Ring bunker, and he was coming as fast as he possibly could, but he knew they couldn’t afford to wait. Every second wasted made things that much more desperate for the King and the Empire.