The Phoenix War

by Richard L. Sanders

  “Or to profit from it,” said Rafael. Calvin knew he was right. As their fighter-bomber passed a larger, ruthless-looking vessel that was sitting idly in space, Calvin thought of the smuggling or trafficking operation that it was undoubtedly here to perform, and it reminded him just how much humanity needed the Empire.

  “Stay alert.”

  “I’ve got something,” said Rafael immediately. “Incoming message.”

  “From a sentry ship or from Aleator One?”

  “Neither,” said Rafael with a smirk. “It’s from some strange ship called the Nighthawk—yeah, I’ve never heard of it either.”

  Calvin smiled. “Patch it through.”

  “It’s good to see that you finally made it,” said a woman’s voice over the speakers. It was familiar but not who Calvin had expected.

  “Cassidy?” asked Calvin.

  “Yes sir,” said Cassidy. “I’m Acting Third Officer now, Green Shift’s officer of the watch. But don’t worry, I’ve notified Commander Presley of your arrival and she is on her way to the bridge.”

  “Thank you,” said Calvin, “please inform the pilot to send coordinates and begin a docking operation with this vessel.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “And tell the commander I’ll speak to her once I’m aboard.”

  “Understood.”

  He closed the channel. Feeling more than a little surprised that Cassidy, a meager midshipman, had been raised to the position of Acting Third Officer. He didn’t doubt Cassidy’s ability, though he still somewhat resented her for siding with Summers over him way back when. And certainly Sarah or someone else of higher rank was more worthy of the position of Third Officer. Hopefully this wasn’t an indication that the ship had lost more of its dear crew than he’d thought… He wondered what other strange changes Summers had made in his absence.

  “Coordinates received,” said Rafael.

  “I see them,” said Calvin, checking the readout on the computer. He adjusted their position and heading accordingly. As the fighter-bomber adjusted to its new course, Rafael informed him that they’d finally gotten the attention of Aleator.

  “A sentry ship has been dispatched and is closing on our position, I think…”

  “The sentry ship looks more like a cargo-vessel refit, doesn’t it?” asked Calvin with a slight grin.

  “Yes sir.”

  Same old Aleator… It felt strange to think that he hated this system so much, with all it had done to him and his family over the years, how he’d always despised it for stealing his dad from him, and how he’d hated the fact that the Roscos kept trying to repay him for some favor they owed his father, and yet now here he was, eager to cash in on that favor after all. And just maybe, it would prove the difference between saving the Empire and losing it. Damn Roscos…

  “Message from Aleator One,” said Rafael.

  “Patch it through.”

  “Looks like you made it in one piece, Calvin,” said Grady’s voice over the speakers. “Go ahead and dock with my sentry ship Armadillo; she’ll take you the rest of the way.”

  “Actually, I need to dock with the Nighthawk first. But as soon as we’re ready, my team and I will come directly aboard Aleator One. And in the meantime you’ll keep a docking port cleared and ready for us.”

  “Of course,” said Grady. “Whatever you say. Anything for a friend of the family.”

  The comm closed and Calvin slowed the fighter-bomber, stopping it once the vessel had attached. Because the Nighthawk had no hangar, and therefore nowhere for the fighter-bomber to land, Calvin had to align the fighter-bomber’s emergency hatch with one of the Nighthawk’s external hatches. It was a fairly straightforward operation and, once pressurization was achieved, he and Rafael crawled through the side hatch and onto the deck of the Nighthawk.

  “Home at last,” said Calvin once he’d gotten to his feet and found himself on deck three. A small welcoming party had gathered to greet them. Though not the people he’d expected. None of his closest friends were there, no doubt the officers of White Shift were still asleep since it was the middle of Green Shift. That wouldn’t have stopped the likes of Miles and Sarah, of course—they would have skipped sleep to see him that much sooner, he knew—so he guessed they simply hadn’t been told he’d arrived in the system. Instead he was unexpectedly greeted by Captain Pellew and Dr. Rain Poynter.

  “Commander Presley says she will meet you on the bridge,” said Pellew, as if in answer to an unspoken question.

  Calvin nodded. “Thank you, Captain. Please see to it that your men offload the cargo from the fighter-bomber onto the Nighthawk, including any cargo you find in the payload.”

  “Weapons, sir?” asked Pellew.

  “No, not weapons,” said Calvin. “Just cargo.” He looked away from Pellew and his eyes met Rain’s. They were a pale blue, he’d forgotten just how striking they were. Undoubtedly some of the prettiest eyes he’d ever seen. Her fiery red hair seemed as unmanageable as ever, and had been pulled into a ponytail behind her head. “Doctor,” he said, giving her a polite nod. He wondered if she was here to tell him that Shen had finally passed on. Calvin decided he’d rather not know yet.

  “Hello, Calvin,” said Rain with a soft smile. “I’d like to give Rafael a look over, if I may.”

  “That’s up to him,” said Calvin.

  “I appreciate the concern but I assure you, I’m quite all right,” said Rafael. “Now if you’ll please excuse me, I have things to attend to.”

  “Go,” said Calvin. “Take care of what you need to. Just remember, if you’re coming, we meet at the main hatch at oh-six-hundred.”

  “I’m coming.” He saluted and Calvin returned the salute. Then Rafael went one way and Calvin went the other. He’d walked only a few steps before he realized that Rain was following him.

  “Is there something more I can do for you, Doctor?” asked Calvin, not slowing his pace.

  Rain hurried and caught up to him, so they were walking side by side. “Yes,” she said. “How are things with you and equarius?” Her tone was politely hushed, as if it were still a secret that Calvin had struggled with dependency of the drug.

  “I’ve kicked the habit once and for all,” he said, thinking of the time he’d managed to flush the last of his equarius down the toilet. Of course there had been some complicated feelings when the princess—now queen—had forced him to take more equarius, to verify that he wasn’t a replicant, and he’d enjoyed it more than he’d wanted to admit to anyone—especially himself—but true to his promise he hadn’t taken any more since. Even though he still thought about it from time to time.

  “Truly?” asked Rain, excitedly. “That’s wonderful news! You’ve stopped taking it altogether, then?” she probed.

  “Yes,” said Calvin. They were almost to the elevator. He wondered if she would follow him all the way to the bridge.

  “I’m happy to hear that,” she said. Calvin looked at her and noticed the big smile she gave him. So warm and encouraging, and he felt bad for being prickly to her. They reached the elevator and Calvin stopped his march.

  “Thank you, Rain. Now, I get the feeling there is something else you want to ask me. What is it?” He pressed the button, calling for the elevator.

  “Yes,” she said. “I hear that you’re about to leave the ship again and go on some sort of away mission.”

  “That is true,” he said.

  “Take me with you,” said Rain, much to Calvin’s surprise. He never expected her to request that. It also caught him off-guard at how appealing that sounded as he looked at her pretty face and hauntingly sincere, blue eyes.

  “We could use a medic, to be sure,” said Calvin. “But what about the Nighthawk? There are more people to care for here and its mission is still vitally important.”

  The elevator door opened and they both stepped inside. Calvin punched the button for the bridge and it zoomed them upwards.

  “The infirmary is in good hands with Doctors Taylor and
Andrews and the rest of the staff. They are as capable as I am, and you yourself said that you need a medic on your away mission so it might as well be me.”

  Calvin thought it over for a second. “All right,” he said, nodding. “Meet at the main hatch at—”

  “Oh-six-hundred, yes I heard,” she smiled at him. The elevator slowed to a stop and the door slid open. Revealing the warm, welcoming bright lights of the Nighthawk’s bridge. The one place in the whole galaxy that felt like home. “One more thing,” said Rain, stopping him before he could step onto the bridge and feel like the Nighthawk’s CO once more—however briefly. “I think you should know that—”

  Here it comes, thought Calvin. It was the question he’d been dreading to ask ever since setting foot aboard the Nighthawk. The question that he feared Rain would answer the first instant he saw her. She’s going to tell me about Shen…

  “Lieutenant Iwate pulled through. He’s—.”

  “Oh I’m sorry to hear that,” said Calvin automatically. And then it clicked. “Wait, what did you say?”

  “I said that Shen pulled through.”

  “He made it? He’s alive?”

  “Yes. And healthy. He’s in his quarters now and I think—”

  Calvin closed the elevator door and mashed the button for deck eight. “That’s great news! Why didn’t anyone tell me?” Calvin talked over Rain. Then, an instant later, as the elevator lurched downward, he felt bad for interrupting her. “Sorry, what were you trying to say?”

  The elevator came to a stop almost as quickly as it had gotten going and the door slid open. They’d arrived at deck eight.

  “Just that I think it would mean a lot to Shen if you went to see him in person.”

  Calvin smiled. “Two steps ahead of you.” He left the elevator and started jogging toward Shen’s quarters. Calling over his shoulder as he did, “Thanks, Rain. I’ll see you at oh-six-hundred. Main Hatch. Don’t forget.”

  His jog became a sprint and, before he knew it, he was standing in front of Shen’s quarters. Feeling more winded than he would have liked to admit. He didn’t waste any time catching his breath though, and instead started hastily knocking on the door and ringing the chime. Of course Shen was probably asleep right now, but Calvin wasn’t about to embark on another dangerous mission without taking the chance to see a close friend. One who, only minutes ago, he’d thought was dead.

  The door opened.

  “Shen!” said Calvin, pushing his way into Shen’s quarters. His good friend stood there wide-eyed. A smile spread across his face. Calvin gave him a hug, despite himself.

  “You’re back,” said Shen.

  “And you’re looking well,” said Calvin, pulling away. The door slid closed and Calvin gave Shen a good once over. Noting that, for surviving a Remorii attack, he looked remarkably healthy. A bit paler than before, and he seemed exhausted, but otherwise Shen appeared to be in full health. He even looked like he’d lost five or ten kilograms. “God it’s great to see you,” Calvin beamed. He’d needed this. Considering that all the news lately seemed to range from bad to worse, it was a damn wonderful thing to get news like this.

  Shen nodded. “I’ve missed you too, Cal.”

  “So get me up to speed,” said Calvin. “Tell me what’s been going on. Has Summers tried to run the Nighthawk aground?”

  “She’s doing a decent job,” said Shen. “Better than I would have expected, to be honest. But she’s not you. And the Nighthawk hasn’t been the same without you.”

  Calvin beamed. “And the Nighthawk wouldn’t be the Nighthawk without you manning the ops post,” said Calvin. “And now that I know you’re back in action, I will honestly sleep so much better at night. Instead of staying up late wondering if the ship is still in one piece.”

  Shen nodded, accepting the compliment gracefully. Though he also seemed a little sad. “I take it that means you’re not staying with us, then?”

  “Unfortunately I have another mission that comes first,” said Calvin. “And I’ll be leaving again soon. But after that I’ll be back in my chair on the Nighthawk, just try and stop me.”

  Shen masked his disappointment with a fake smile and Calvin was surprised how much Shen seemed to be genuinely unhappy with the news. For a moment he considered inviting Shen to join him on his mission into the DMZ, but then thought better of it. It promised to be an extremely dangerous mission, and the chances of a safe return weren’t great. And, considering what’d happened the last time Calvin took Shen on a dangerous away mission—and what that’d nearly cost him—it was the last thing Calvin wanted to do. Especially when Shen was quite clearly still recovering from the injuries and psychological damage he’d sustained on Remus Nine.

  So instead of inviting Shen along, Calvin clapped his friend on the shoulder. “Stay safe and take care.”

  “You as well.”

  “I’ll see you and the Nighthawk again soon. That’s a promise.”

  “I’m holding you to it.”

  ***

  Summers had wanted to meet Calvin at the airlock when his fighter-bomber docked with the Nighthawk but she’d been tied to her desk in the CO’s office, putting the finishing touches on her final report. Calvin had ordered the Nighthawk to Aleator without explanation and had personally come aboard. The logical conclusion was that he meant to take over the isotome mission himself. If that was his desire, Summers would fully support it. This was his ship and that was his prerogative. However, what she refused to abide was Calvin having to resume command without the benefit of a full, detailed accounting of her command decisions and the status of all personnel and ship’s systems.

  Summers was just reviewing the final version of the report when Calvin arrived. He entered the CO’s office and Summers stood to attention and saluted. He returned the salute, except with a big dopey grin.

  “Summers Presley, I see you’re still the very paragon of duty,” said Calvin, “It’s great to see you!”

  “Thank you,” Summers nodded. Thinking Calvin didn’t look much the worse for wear, considering the ordeal he’d been through on Capital World—having to deal with the politics of the Imperial Assembly while trying to stamp out the corruption that had a stranglehold over their precious government, and barely escaping with his life after his efforts proved both too little and too late. Calvin’s failure, though, Summers was sure, had been no fault of his own. The tentacles of the vile creature they were grappling with had simply grown too deep, and were too strong, and still needed to be excised by the swiftest, sharpest knife before it was too late.

  “I’m glad that you’ve managed to keep the ship in one piece,” said Calvin. “Though I see you’ve done some re-decorating.” He glanced around the office, clearly noticing how she’d had the CO’s desk rotated ninety-degrees and the sparse wall decor had been replaced by printouts of duty-shift rosters, star charts, and a large, glowing timekeeper. Each impeccably organized within its own space, of course.

  “I haven’t gotten too comfortable in that chair, I assure you,” said Summers, staring past him at the door, thinking of the command position only a few meters beyond. “You may relieve me as CO and resume command at your pleasure, I have a full report here—”

  “Summers,” Calvin interrupted her. “I’m not here to relieve you. And I don’t need to see any report right now.”

  “But it’s protocol…”

  He shot her a look that suddenly reminded her how very little he cared for protocol. No doubt he thought her efforts in composing the report had been a waste of time. He was wrong, she knew. Once this was all over and the proper, restored government was doing a thorough audit of everything that had occurred, and was judging Summers, Calvin, and everyone on the Nighthawk for the roles they’d played, every inch of paper trail would prove indispensable. Summers didn’t require Calvin to understand.

  “Summers, I’m here to collect some supplies and a few members of the crew and then proceed to Aleator,” said Calvin. “Princess Kalila has—” />
  “The queen,” Summers corrected him.

  “Yes, that’s right. Queen Kalila has ordered me to head into the DMZ and spy on activities inside Alliance space. After that, I will proceed into Rotham space and see what intel I can gather on their forces.”

  Summers found this very interesting. Sending Calvin to investigate Alliance and Rotham space meant that the Rotham were indeed a significant and imminent threat. However the mission sounded quite dangerous, and she wondered if Calvin truly appreciated just what he’d signed himself up for. She also thought that maybe, just maybe, the queen didn’t understand how valuable Calvin was, if she could so easily send him away on a potential suicide mission.

  “You of course will resume your ongoing mission,” continued Calvin. “And find and destroy those isotome weapons. Should I fail, and the worst does happen, there will be war. That war will be far bloodier if isotome weapons make an appearance.” His eyes met hers soberly.

  “I understand,” she said.

  “I am asking you to please continue leading the Nighthawk in my absence.”

  She nodded. As she looked at him, she wanted to tell him not to go. To stay here, where it was much safer, and help with the Nighthawk’s mission. Who the hell cares what’s going on inside Alliance space? Is it really worth dying for? And suddenly she realized just how much she’d missed having him around—despite how annoying and cocksure he was—and she couldn’t get past the faint, eerie suspicion nagging at the back of her mind that if she let him go, she’d never see him again. Or, if she did, things would be a lot different. Probably a lot worse. But all she could make herself say was, “Yes, of course I will, Calvin. I promise. I’ll pursue the mission objectives vigorously and lead the Nighthawk faithfully. Until your safe return, Lieutenant.”

  “Thank you, Summers. Now, regarding crew, I have a few ideas in mind of who I plan on taking with me, but I don’t want to take anyone who you deem mission critical. Ridding the galaxy of those isotome weapons is… beyond crucial, and in many tangible ways even more important than my mission. So I will not jeopardize your effort by taking essential crew.”