The Phoenix War

by Richard L. Sanders

  Kalila nodded slowly. Seeming to accept this answer. Though clearly she was disappointed. “Putting his intentions aside then,” she said, “in your opinion, is the warning credible? Or should I dismiss it?”

  “Don’t dismiss it,” Calvin said, almost hastily. When he answered, Kalila’s eyes betrayed her curiosity. No doubt the speediness of his reply made her think there was more Calvin knew about Samil, something he wasn’t telling her. Calvin cleared his throat and explained. “We know the Rotham threat is real. They have declared Renora as one of their own planets. Therefore war is inevitable. Whether they are making plans for Renora, or are actively making their move right now—as Samil claims—it is a question of timing, but either way the threat is real. And something must be done. And as for the part about the Rotham war fleets being able to cross the DMZ and enter Imperial space with impunity, no longer concerned about the Alliance… that is harder to imagine. But it is possible.” He thought of how tightly-controlled Tybur had been when he’d snuck onto the planet to get information. And how many warships had been on constant patrol. Warships that would shoot first and ask questions later, should the Rotham—or any Imperials—try to cross the DMZ. Could those fleets really be made irrelevant in one swift stroke?

  “But if there is even an inkling of a chance that the claim is true,” continued Calvin. “Then it is a major threat. Possibly even the greatest threat we currently face. And that has to be looked into. It could be that Raidan lied. Or my father lied. Or that their intelligence is bad—I certainly hope that’s the case! But, for the sake of the Empire, I think it would be foolish not to take the warning seriously.”

  Kalila nodded. “You and I are of one mind on the matter.”

  Calvin was glad to hear this. He’d already believed the Rotham threat to be even more important, and more threatening, to human survival than the brewing civil war. It was time for Imperial forces, both loyalist and insurgent, to bury the hatchet and unite against their common threat. As much as Calvin didn’t want to see the monarchy in the hands of humanity’s most corrupt leaders, such as Caerwyn Martel, he was even more worried that infighting would only manage to serve up their precious worlds on a silver platter to ruthless alien invaders.

  “So I take it we are sending our forces into the Corridor?” asked Calvin. “Probably to Praxis and Thetican and other systems?”

  “Unfortunately, we are not at liberty to do so,” the queen replied.

  Calvin felt momentarily confused. “What do you mean? We must deploy along the DMZ. To intimidate the Rotham, to make them think twice about attacking the Empire.” While not a perfect solution, it seemed like the obvious first step to him. If the Rotham are coming, as Samil and Raidan warned, and if no one else can stop them, then certainly it must fall to Kalila to lead her forces in defense of the Empire.

  “I wish it were as simple as that,” said Kalila. “But if we withdraw to the outer fringes of the Empire, we leave the core worlds defenseless against the tyranny of the Assembly and those who would usurp my father’s throne. Many of our most valuable allies, systems that have declared for us, would be abandoned to their own inadequate defenses against the insurgent fleets. You wouldn’t want that to happen, would you?”

  “No,” he said. “I suppose not.” Though, at this point, he felt almost willing to support either side in the Imperial conflict, so long as it meant humanity could stand united, without bloodshed, and jointly oppose threats from Rotham space—and possibly even Polarian space. No doubt when the Rotham managed to successfully seize valuable Imperial systems, and the Empire proved unable to stop them—too busy destroying itself with its own conflict—the Polarian States would smell the blood and various warlords would emerge to stake their own claims, and lead their own conquests. And all for what? “I just don’t want to see the Empire torn apart,” said Calvin. “Especially when we know there are enemies abroad, true enemies, who are eager to invade and conquer us if we leave ourselves defenseless.”

  “And those threats will be dealt with as they emerge,” said Kalila, her words absolute.

  Calvin was not so optimistic.

  “In the meantime,” Kalila continued, “we must swiftly unite our people, restore order to the Empire. And then deeply cleanse it from top to bottom, root out all of the corruption and take the withered and diseased branches and cast them into the fire. If we do as you say, if we relent and allow those elements to rule the Empire, corrupt leadership from men of the lowest moral caliber, men like Caerwyn Martel who would sell us all to alien slavers for three q, then it is true we might stand a better chance against the short-term threat of alien invasion. We might be able to create a unified front and intimidate them. Or repel them, if it came right down to it. Though that is far from a foregone conclusion. But, even assuming we did, what would it buy us?”

  “Peace,” said Calvin.

  “Yes, peace,” said Kalila. “For a season. But then what? The corruption spreads and grows, the government evolves, takes upon itself new powers, everything is restructured. Greater foreign and corporate influence take root, more of our leaders are purchased by foreign elements with corrosive agendas. As you recall, it was you who warned me about the Phoenix Conspiracy. About the Phoenix Ring plotting to destroy and re-forge our Empire. The leaders of the Phoenix Ring may be gone, but their legacy remains. As does the corruption. Corruption at the highest levels. And it grows by the day. In a time when ships vanish, and admirals can be replaced by replicants, and Members of the Assembly can sell their loyalties to the highest bidder… is that the future you wish for humanity? Is that what you’re fighting for? What you’re willing to die for?”

  She looked at him candidly. And Calvin found he had no answer for her. The threats she spoke of, the corruption, he knew it was real. He’d seen evidence of it firsthand, he’d been fighting it hand-and-fist since that first moment on Praxis One, when he’d been sent in pursuit of the stolen Harbinger. Ever since then his picture of how vast, dark, and deep the conspiracy was had shocked and terrified him. And he’d done literally everything he could think of to oppose it. Surely he couldn’t ask Kalila to surrender the reigns of the Empire to such corruption, and give up any hope of justice for her slain father and siblings, to purchase a little temporary safety against the Rotham and Polarians… but on the other hand, if she didn’t surrender, if she kept fighting, and the Empire tore itself apart in civil war… what then would stop the Rotham and the Polarians from conquering and destroying humanity? And could Calvin even be certain that Kalila herself wasn’t behind the murders of the king and his eldest children? That all of this, including the imminent civil war, wasn’t a power play orchestrated by Kalila to grant herself control of the Empire—even at the dear cost of its possible destruction? He searched her eyes, wondering if she could really be such a person. As he probed her, staring at her rich brown irises, seeing the passion burning within them, he was almost certain she could not be the monster he feared she was. She seemed in every way sincere. But then again, he’d been fooled before…

  “Now that we know the Alliance cannot deter the Republic from crossing the DMZ,” said Calvin, “we have to act on that information.”

  “We don’t know that,” said Kalila. “We suspect it. We even fear it. But as you yourself told me earlier, we don’t know the information is true. We just know it might be.”

  “I still think we have to do something,” insisted Calvin. “You told me we are of a similar mind. That this threat must be dealt with.”

  “And indeed it must,” said Kalila. “Which is why I am charging you to investigate it. I am asking you to go into the DMZ, collect intelligence regarding the Alliance’s military capacity, and assess the likelihood that they remain a deterrence against Rotham military ambitions in the DMZ. You will also study Rotham military activity and report back to me. If their fleets are mobilizing, we need to know. And we need to know now.”

  Calvin felt a rush of excitement at the prospect of this new mission. Finally
something he could do, a way to channel his concerns into action and allow him to contribute to the defense of the Empire. If the Rotham military was indeed the threat he feared it to be, this was his chance to expose that and, if he was lucky, use the intelligence he would gather to awaken the Empire to dangers facing them.

  “Will you do this?” asked Kalila. “Not only for your queen, but for your people?”

  Calvin couldn’t accept fast enough. “I will leave at once,” he said. “And Rafael is coming with me.” His brain began churning over the logistical details of this new assignment, what he would need to do to prepare, and how exactly he would execute an investigation deep into the DMZ, and beyond—into Rotham space.

  “I am glad to hear it,” said Kalila. Her lips betrayed the hint of a smile. “Unfortunately I have no ships to spare, though you and I both know that a large ship would attract too much attention anyway. Therefore I grant you full access to the Black Swan’s shuttles and fighters.”

  Shuttles and fighters? He’d assumed he’d be taking the Nighthawk. After all, it had the stealth capability he needed, as well as the expert personnel and resources for just such an op. But then he remembered the Nighthawk’s current mission, one of paramount urgency—to hunt down and destroy the remaining isotome weapons—and he realized the ship would be unavailable to him for this mission into the DMZ. At least for now. Which meant he’d have to make other arrangements. Although, he might be able to reassign a handful of the crew, his dear friends, to join him…

  “Also you may assemble a list of any resources you will need, including personnel,” continued Kalila. “And send that list to Captain Adiger as soon as you are able. He will see to it you have what you require.”

  “Thank you, Your Majesty,” Calvin bowed.

  She dismissed him, charging him to go and make his arrangements quickly. Since his mission was so time-sensitive. “One last thing before I go,” said Calvin, thinking of his father’s cryptic and chilling warning that the Alliance would soon cease to be a deterrence to the Rotham—he could imagine the Khans and the vampire-like strigoi Enclave wreaking some kind of violent and brutal slaughter among the people of the Alliance, and the thought made him shiver. The very thought reminded him of the strigoi-induced massacre he’d personally witnessed aboard the Trinity…

  “Yes?” Kalila looked at him curiously.

  “The Alliance…” Calvin hesitated for a moment. Having to take a second to clear his mind of the dark and terrifying images that’d surfaced. “They should be warned. If the Enclave is about to do something… maybe if the Alliance government can be warned…”

  “I quite agree,” said Kalila. “And an effort will be made to warn the Alliance government. If they know there is a threat, perhaps they can counter it. And then their fleets will remain a valuable deterrence against Rotham aggression across the DMZ.”

  Calvin had been thinking more about preventing a terrible slaughter by warning the Alliance, rather than the strategic usefulness of such a move. But Kalila did have a point.

  “Unfortunately, I fear the Alliance’s leaders will prove unwilling to listen. Their distrust of the Empire is deep and their leaders may already be in the pockets of our enemies. But I shall see to it that every effort is made to warn them. I hope they will listen. And indeed I hope the threat proves baseless. But in case they don’t, and in case it isn’t, I need you to hurry. We depend on you for the truth. You are our eyes.”

  Calvin bowed and made for the door. Just as he reached it, Kalila spoke.

  “And Calvin,” she said, stopping him in his tracks. He turned around and faced her. “Whatever you see there. Whatever you discover,” her eyes narrowed. “Tell me everything.” Her words were a warning, he knew. This was her way of telling him that she hadn’t completely forgiven him for withholding information about the replicants. Future omissions would not be tolerated.

  “I promise,” he said. “Anything I learn, I will report to you in full detail as soon as I’m able.”

  “Very good.”

  Chapter 10

  It was all getting very tiresome.

  Caerwyn stood on the Assembly Floor, alongside Lords Conroy, Doran, Savet, and that insolent young whelp Leor Zhang, as the Great Houses voted for a monarch for the twenty-seventh time. Only this time the outcome would be different, Caerwyn had made certain arrangements.

  “House Warren declares for Lord Conroy,” said Lord Warren to nobody’s surprise. Thus far all the votes had been the same. Everyone always voted the same way, no matter how many times the Great Houses were polled. Political loyalties ran deep, and no single House dared upset their friends and allies by voting against their bloc, not without sufficient motivation…

  It had been difficult finding one of the Great House Representatives that was open-minded to persuasion. Considering that, should Caerwyn choose his target poorly, and the lord or lady happened to report his attempt to grease the wheels, it would result in harsh consequences. Which meant direct bribery was out of the question. He couldn’t convince any of the others to drop out, nor could he approach the Coles, or the Florences, or the Millers, or really anyone. Or so it had first seemed.

  And then, rather suddenly, the Ortiz family’s famous vineyards, on which they entirely depended for their wealth, lost certain… essential contracts. Which made Lord Ortiz much more pliable. Of course Caerwyn himself had been undetectably behind the vineyards’ loss of contracts, through his considerable business connections, but that sort of minutia was neither here nor there.

  “House Li declares for Lord Doran,” said Lady Li. Adding her voice to Doran’s tally, keeping him even with Caerwyn. More votes followed and no one was surprised by each outcome. The count remained the same, with only a few more votes to be counted. By all appearances it was the same fruitless, stupid gridlock that had prevailed in all of the previous efforts to elect a new monarch. As Caerwyn looked at the many bored faces around him, he tried not to smile.

  And then his moment of glory came. Lord Ortiz stood up to vote. He shot Caerwyn an anxious look and then cleared his throat. Caerwyn narrowed his eyes, as if to communicate exactly what was on the line for Lord Ortiz and his family. His business could triple with one word. New lucrative contracts were promised, far more generous ones than those he’d lost. All he had to do was put an end to this madness. It was time to elect a king. It was time for the Empire, and humanity, to move forward. And now the chance for that to happen rested upon Lord Ortiz’s shoulders.

  He stood there, looking nervous.

  “Mister Ortiz, your vote please,” said Representative Tate, impatient with the delay.

  Lord Ortiz cleared his throat again. “House Ortiz declares for…”

  Here it comes, thought Caerwyn.

  “House Ortiz declares for,” Lord Ortiz repeated. He gulped and then finished his sentence. “Lord Conroy.”

  WHAT? Lord Conroy? Caerwyn wanted to scream, though he managed to keep his silence, barely. That wasn’t the deal! Caerwyn did all he could to hide his surprise, after all Lord Ortiz had just cast the same vote he’d cast twenty-six times before. The one everyone expected. Caerwyn couldn’t seem surprised, otherwise the others would know he was up to something. Not that it had done him any good…

  Lord Ortiz shot him a look of apology as he sat down. Caerwyn looked back at him coldly. His face was neutral, but his eyes were full of loathing. I’ll bury you for this, Mister Ortiz, I swear it. The fool had proven too cowardly to go against his faction, and for that he would pay dearly. If he’d thought his vineyards were in trouble before… he had no idea the hell he’d just invited upon himself.

  But justice would have to wait. At least Ortiz hadn’t reported Caerwyn’s bribe to the Committee. But that was indeed small consolation.

  The final votes were cast and tallied and the twenty-seventh outcome proved the same as the previous twenty-six. But this time, as the Assembly made ready to adjourn, and Caerwyn looked over all the other idiots he had to work with, he f
elt something different.

  I cannot win the throne, he thought. Not this way. And this lunacy of being unable to elect me king must end. He stared at members of the presiding committee, the three people who had the most influence over the hundreds of members of the Assembly who didn’t belong to Great Houses. In particular he looked at Representative Tate. She sat in the center, influential yet complacent, seemingly content with the Assembly’s inability to choose a king. And she was from Thetican System. Her constituents lived there…

  Then Caerwyn had an idea. It wasn’t a perfect one, and it wouldn’t give him what he wanted most, but it seemed like a steppingstone that could be used to springboard himself onto the throne. So long as he played his cards exactly right.

  He stood up, just before the session was about to close and adjourn for the day.

  “The Floor recognizes Representative Martel of Capital World,” said Representative Tate. She didn’t look pleased to see him, but she also wasn’t the sort to ignore the Assembly’s rules of procedure just so she could go home sooner.

  “I have something to say, don’t worry I’ll make it brief,” said Caerwyn. He cleared his throat and turned his attention to the stacked balconies above. Representatives from every Imperial world. “Enemies of the state are trying to divide us. Our citizens are confused, our military is split in two. And all because we have not elected a rightful leader for the people to rally behind. Our Empire needs leadership, and we can no longer afford to waste time squabbling amongst ourselves trying—and failing—to choose one.”

  “This is no time for campaign speeches,” said Representative Tate. “You have already made your case before the Assembly as to why you should be elected. Now is not the proper time.”

  Caerwyn raised his hands innocently. “I couldn’t agree more. Which is why I am not standing before you today asking you to choose me as your king.” He paused to let that sink in. Those around seemed to perk up with curiosity, wondering no doubt what sort of game was afoot. It was no secret that Caerwyn wanted the throne more than anything. Even though he’d tried very hard to downplay his interest.