The Phoenix Crisis

by Richard L. Sanders

  “The fighter’s pilot is identifying himself. It’s Mister Cross.”

  Kalila felt a wave of relief. She’d worried for Calvin, had wanted him to escape the planet. But in that moment, when all their plans had failed, there’d been no means and no time to find and extract him. She’d been forced to leave him to his own devices. Apparently that had been sufficient. Perhaps this meant he’d get the chance to explain to her, face to face, why he’d failed to deliver the evidence of the conspiracy like they’d planned. “Tell the Black Swan to mark that starfighter as friendly. I don’t want it getting shot down.”

  “At once, Princess.”

  “Inbound shuttles abort your approach,” transmitted the ISS Andromeda. “This is your final warning.”

  “Ignore them,” said Kalila.

  The view out the window flashed bright for a second and an explosion erupted off their port bow. Far enough from the convoy shuttles to not cause anything but superficial damage, but the message from the Andromeda was clear. We could destroy you.

  “Princess, the Andromeda has fired a warning shot. Shall I power down our engines?” asked Glenn frantically.

  “I said stay the course, Mister Hayes!” Kalila snapped.

  “There’s another ship on our scopes, bearing one-zero-two-mark-six,” said Margaret. “Small frigate, weapons armed. It’s on an intercept course with the convoy. Firing range in thirty seconds…it’s the IWS Desert Eagle.”

  That was Lafayette Nimoux’s ship… would a hero such as him truly fire on the princess and her convoy? She doubted it. But then again, she’d been surprised by his damning testimony against Calvin before the Assembly.

  “The Black Swan is launching fighters to bring us in,” said Glenn.

  As the mighty black dreadnought and its fighters moved rapidly to close the distance, desperately rushing to protect the vulnerable shuttle convoy, the Andromeda and its flotilla of warships moved directly in between. Forming up in an aggressive posture. Kalila had no military experience, she didn’t know if it was possible for her ships to get around the flotilla, but she had to believe. Had to have faith. Even in the shadow of the darkest of moments.

  “The Andromeda is firing,” said Margaret. The view lit up again and Kalila was forced to squint.

  “What happened?” she asked, once the flash was gone.

  “Princess…” Glenn looked as though he was at a loss for words. “The Andromeda… it fired on the Lavender Fox…”

  “And?” asked Kalila, feeling a knot in her throat. She had cousins and friends on that shuttle.

  “The shuttle’s been completely destroyed…”

  “Shall I power down our engines?” asked Margaret.

  “No,” said Kalila. “Live or die… we stay the course.” The slaughter of members of the Akira House would not stand. Neither would the usurpation of the government. Those responsible would pay for this. She swore it.

  “The Desert Eagle is nearly upon us—” said Margaret.

  Kalila tightened and untightened her fists. Knuckles white. They’d do well to kill me now, if they can. She didn’t know whether her father would step down quietly, and thus allow for the chaos of succession to swoop in and descend upon the Empire along with hungry alien fleets, or if her father would fight to maintain his throne, and thereby doom the Empire to the chaos of civil upheaval. But one thing was abundantly clear. There would be war. And when it came, Kalila promised herself, she wouldn’t forget what had happened here today. Nor would she forgive. Not now. Not ever.

  Chapter 36

  “…Two… One…”

  The blackness out the window disappeared, replaced in the blink of an eye with the image of a planet—half lit by the local sun—and the lights of several starships. Raidan had ordered their descent from alteredspace to be so deep inside Capital System they’d run the risk of colliding with an object, or having the gravity from the planet destabilize them. As Raidan looked at himself and his crew, realizing they were all still intact and breathing, he knew they were safe on both counts.

  “We are now in normal space,” said Mister Watson.

  “Tell me what we see,” snapped Raidan. His operations crew was already working the many scanners of the Harbinger and busily trying to make quick sense of what was happening. A cursory glance at one of the 3d displays told Raidan that several dozen ships were near the planet, many in orbit. And some of them were exchanging fire.

  “A tiny convoy of shuttlecraft is attempting to flee the planet and dock with the ISS Black Swan,” reported Mister Ivanov. “They are being escorted by several small starfighters which have engaged the IWS Desert Eagle. As for the Black Swan itself… it’s exchanging fire with the ISS Andromeda and a flotilla of destroyers and support ships. It’s being driven back…”

  “Move us in,” said Raidan. “Mister Watson, give us maximum sublight speeds—combat maneuvers. Mister Demir, bring all weapons to bear and lock every one of our batteries onto the Andromeda. Order all gun crews to their stations. Mister Mason, shields up, condition one, clear for action.”

  “Sir, yes, sir!” His crew responded to his orders and the lights on the bridge snapped to red and an alarm klaxon could be heard.

  “Weapons range in twenty seconds,” said Mister Demir.

  Strictly speaking, Raidan wasn’t entirely sure what was going on. But he knew the Andromeda and the Fleet were now the enemy. They were attacking one of the king’s own ships and that made them traitors in his eyes. Yes, he’d heard the news from the Assembly; the whole Empire had heard how the legislative body of sycophants and self-serving bureaucrats had taken it upon themselves to declare an end to the king’s reign—and Raidan had expected nothing less. In fact he’d feared this very day would come. But, now that it was here, he wasn’t about to roll over.

  “Firing range now,” said Mister Demir.

  “To all gun crews—fire at will.”

  “All batteries firing.”

  “The Andromeda is altering course,” reported Mister Mason.

  “Stay on target,” said Raidan. He didn’t know if the king planned to resist the Assembly’s demands or cooperate. But Raidan supposed it didn’t truly matter. Death by fire or death by ice. Either way… the Empire he’d loved was doomed.

  ***

  Calvin swung the fighter around, angling the starship for another pass. The craft was small enough—like a missile—that it could glide through the Desert Eagle’s alternating shields and do attack runs against its hull. He unleashed a hailstorm of high caliber bullets and an energy beam as he flew by, cutting into the underside of the Desert Eagle where, once the armor was gone, he’d be able to knock out some critical systems. Fighting the Desert Eagle gave him a strange feeling; it made him feel as though he was firing upon his own ship.

  “Watch it!” said Rafael from copilot behind him as Calvin shot their fighter along the underbelly of the Desert Eagle’s hull, less than a meter from contact.

  “Relax, I’ve done this a time or two,” he said. And it was mostly true, he’d trained as a pilot. But this was only his second combat engagement. And he’d forgotten how intense it could be in a starfighter, seeing the bright glow of enemy fire so up close and personal, feeling the ship thrown from the force of nearby explosions that—if they’d been a little closer—would have decimated the craft. Perhaps most terrifying of all was watching a missile lock on and pursue. Like a silent black shark, ripping through space—only visible because of its propulsion system—fast on his trail. Unwilling to be thrown or confused by his evasive maneuvers. Twice now he’d had to dispense chaff to confuse a missile that was coming too close. And both times the countermeasure had worked. But his chaff supply was running low, and this craft had no other anti-missile countermeasures built-in.

  As he finished his most recent pass, doing his best to stay clear of the Desert Eagle gun-mounts so he’d take only minimal fire, Rafael informed him that their ammunition was running low. And they’d lost a chunk of their aft armor plating.
>
  “One lucky hit and they’ll punch a hole in our air supply and depressurize the whole thing,” said Rafael.

  “All right, I’ll keep my distance,” said Calvin. “In truth they’d accomplished their mission. His fighter, even with the help from the fighters launched by the Black Swan—many of which the Desert Eagle had destroyed—had no chance of disabling or destroying the Desert Eagle. Their goal had been only to distract the mightier vessel, to force it to abort its pursuit of Kalila’s shuttle and the rest of the convoy. Which they’d succeeded at. Now though, the Desert Eagle hunted the pesky starfighters with extreme prejudice.

  As he sped the starfighter away, trying to escape the Desert Eagle’s weapons range, he saw the hint of a flash and his systems blinked, losing power for a moment.

  “That was a direct hit,” said Rafael. “Desert Eagle’s beam weapon. We’re lucky we weren’t instantly irradiated to death.”

  Calvin didn’t feel so lucky. His controls started to glitch out on him, losing responsiveness, and then his forward thrusters sputtered and died. “I have no propulsion systems now…” he said, unsuccessful at restarting the thrusters. Their fighter soared forward only because of inertia now. Which meant they could easily be overtaken. Calvin could still steer but he dared not use the braking thrusters for fear that they’d stop in place. Waiting for death like a fish in a barrel.

  “Don’t slow us down; the Desert Eagle is still behind us.”

  “I won’t,” said Calvin. He tried to think quickly. Suddenly the joy of piloting a starfighter was gone and he wanted nothing more than to escape the situation. He looked out the windows and tried to spot the nearest friendly ship. It was hard to distinguish one ship’s lights from another with the naked eye, but in the far distance—still docked at port—he was sure he caught a glimpse of the massive ISS Victory. Why is it just sitting there? He wondered. Why doesn’t the king order it deployed to help defend his family?

  “Also, don’t look now,” said Rafael, interrupting Calvin’s train of thought, “but our oxygen supply is critical. The secondary tank is no longer feeding the cockpit for some reason.”

  Calvin glanced down and saw the tiny alert flashing red on one of his screens. “Which ship is closer, the Harbinger or the Black Swan?”

  “The Black Swan.”

  “Open channel to them.”

  “Open.”

  “Mayday. Mayday. Mayday,” said Calvin, not sure if anyone on the Black Swan would actually care about a single fighter in distress. “I’m disabled and running out of air. Request immediate assistance and covering fire. I need to dock. I repeat Mayday, Mayday—”

  “Acknowledged,” said a voice over the speakers. And, amazingly, the Black Swan changed course and headed their way. Moving to intercept. Two of its main batteries lit up, firing volleys that shot past Calvin’s fighter—narrowly missing it—and slammed into the Desert Eagle. Forcing it to abort its attack.

  “Looks like someone made quite the impression on the princess,” said Rafael. “Apparently Her Grace doesn’t want you dead.”

  Calvin felt warm in the face. Now that Kalila’s shuttle had safely docked with the Black Swan and she’d gone aboard, Calvin had no doubt that Kalila had gone to the bridge of her ship and, most likely, had given the order for the Black Swan to save him.

  Not because she likes me, he reminded himself. Not wanting his annoyingly irrational emotions to get carried away. I’m still useful to her. Yet he couldn’t help but think of the wedding band prop he’d worn for their cover story, and how he still kept it with him in his pocket.

  When they were within fifty mc’s, Calvin complied with instructions and fired his braking thrusters. Maneuvering the fighter to a full stop. The Black Swan did the rest of the work and towed his vessel onto one of the many flight decks. Once his craft was anchored in place, the airlock sealed and pressure was restored. Attendants on the flight deck immediately started combing over the starfighter, beginning repairs. And an officer wearing a navy Lieutenant Commander’s uniform, along with two marines, stood by waiting for Calvin and Rafael as they climbed down.

  “Mister Cross,” said the officer, offering a quick salute. Calvin returned it. “Please come with me.”

  Calvin and Rafael followed the man, flanked by the two marines, through long stretching corridors and up several decks. The massive feel of the Black Swan, which dwarfed even most battleships, reminded Calvin of his visit to the Harbinger. Both powerful dreadnoughts seemed to have more interior space and more crew than Calvin would have any idea what to do with. There was, however, one major difference between the Harbinger and this place. Onboard the Harbinger everything had felt grim, and harsh, and severe. It was a military warship and made no effort to hide that fact. Everything was grey, and hard, and minimal. But not here. This ship was filled with color, and rich, vibrant décor. There were lacquered wooden inlays and plush burgundy carpets, and portraits and paintings seeming to line every wall. The furniture in various rooms that they passed looked both inviting and expensive. Calvin found it interesting. On the outside, the Black Swan was a fearsome black skeleton, a warship that dared any other ship to give it trouble, but on the inside it was a palace. Fit for a king. Or, at the very least, a princess.

  Eventually they arrived on the bridge. It was similar in size, and design, to the Harbinger, though its furnishings were clearly more expensive, and more thought had gone into the color scheme and décor. A large window swept across the far wall, treating them with a view of stars, and all around several crews worked to manage the many stations. Their escort brought them to the center of the bridge where a man in a captain’s uniform sat at the command position; Kalila was there too, occupying the seat next to him. They both stood when they saw Calvin.

  The captain saluted. “Mister Executor,” he said.

  Calvin saluted back. “It’s just Mister Cross now,” he said.

  “I’m Captain Adiger,” the captain said. He then looked at Rafael, noting the man’s eye-patch and missing fingers. “And you?”

  “Rafael Te Santos.”

  “I am pleased to see you are safe,” said Kalila, looking at Calvin. “We have much to discuss. But not now; now there are more urgent matters.”

  “Indeed,” said Calvin. Out the window he saw flashes and knew the battle was still raging. A man in a commander’s uniform, presumably the XO, was shouting commands to the bridge staff and directing their combat efforts. Adiger kept an eye on things, and seemed ready to step in and take charge on a moment’s notice, but for now he seemed more interested in giving the princess the better part of his attention.

  “They say it will happen any time now,” Adiger said, continuing his conversation with Kalila.

  “Hard to port,” Calvin heard the XO yell. As the ship yawed to the left, the view at the window changed and he could see the phantom glowing hulls of two massive starships, only kilometers away, unleashing full broadsides on each other. One ship looked splendid and white as the lights bounced off her hull, the other a dark, fearsome grey. The Andromeda and the Harbinger were still beating against each other ferociously, filling the window with some of the most spectacular fireworks Calvin had ever seen. And now the Black Swan added its own teeth to the melee, its main guns alight. Calvin knew this would force the Andromeda to withdraw or be destroyed.

  “We have to contact the Harbinger,” said Calvin, interrupting Kalila and Adiger.

  She pointed to a nearby terminal. Then ordered the man occupying it to establish a communication link with the Harbinger. Calvin was then handed a headset and invited to take a seat.

  “To Raidan and ISS Harbinger, this is Calvin Cross aboard the ISS Black Swan. Please respond.”

  There was a short pause and then a familiar voice replied. “Calvin? You made it off the planet?”

  “Barely.”

  “Excellent,” said Raidan. “Now tell the Princess to jump her ship away from the system. I’ll supply coordinates. We need to leave immediately and regroup so
mewhere safe, before enemy reinforcements arrive.”

  “I agree,” said Calvin. He looked at the princess and Captain Adiger. “Raidan suggests we flee the system while we still can. He’s sending us coordinates of a safe location to regroup.”

  Kalila gave him a suspicious look. “We’re not going anywhere,” she said.

  Calvin relayed the message.

  “Tell her we have to jump. We cannot stay in Capital System. None of us can. It isn’t safe.”

  “He says it isn’t safe,” said Calvin.

  “Capital System is the seat of government and power. I cannot abandon it,” she said. “Not while my father is still on the surface.”

  “The king is supposed to come before the Assembly and address the Empire any time now,” said Captain Adiger.

  Only then, Calvin knew, could they be sure whether the king meant to resist or cooperate. But the fact that the ISS Victory hadn’t been deployed made Calvin suspect the latter.

  “There are a lot of ships on these scopes,” said Rafael. He’d drifted over to the terminal next to Calvin and was looking through the latest scan reports. “A lot of ships, and I mean a lot, are inbound for Capital System.”

  “The Eighth and Ninth Fleets are on their way,” explained Captain Adiger. “They will be here soon.”

  “And it’s anyone’s guess whose side they’re on…” said Rafael. He looked at Calvin. “We need to leave.”

  “Not yet,” said Kalila. “Not before my father addresses the Empire.”

  Calvin felt torn. Part of him recognized the danger they were in, even on this mighty vessel, and wanted to race down to the flight deck, take off in his fighter, and go aboard the Harbinger. Raidan, no doubt, had no plans to be cornered by the Eighth and Ninth Fleets. Even though those fleets had yet to declare their side, Raidan certainly wasn’t going to take any chances. Calvin understood that; he considered it prudent. And part of him wanted to flee as well. But another part of him needed to be near Kalila, and refused to abandon her. Accepting that he shared her fate.