The Phoenix War

by Richard L. Sanders

  “The people of Renora voted and democratically decided to leave the Empire. Just as they democratically decided to petition the Republic for membership,” said Alex. “The Senate reviewed their petition and granted their request. It is therefore logical for the Senate to recognize Renora as part of the glorious Republic, that does not mean the Republic has any interest in any other human world.”

  Calvin shot Alex a surprised, even annoyed look. Clearly aware that Alex was playing a game with him, since only someone truly naïve would believe that the Rotham Senate had no interest in the ever-juicy, increasingly defenseless human worlds. Especially those nearest to the DMZ.

  “A raging mob took control of Renora, that can hardly be considered a democratic process,” said Calvin.

  “What is more democratic than rule of the people?” asked Alex. Still baiting the human. Wondering if he would snap with anger.

  “Renora is a settlement of the Empire and is therefore subject to the crown.”

  “Ah but whose crown? The slain king? The exiled queen? The uncoronated steward?”

  “Enough of this,” said Calvin, clearly not interested in Alex’s devil’s advocacy. “I am not a fool and I will not be made into one. Nor will I be made to believe that you are a fool. You were a member of Advent and, as the Nighthawk’s computer records indicate, you’ve been following every scrap of news regarding political events with intense interest. I also happen to know for a fact that you are a non-interventionist. And you don’t approve of belligerence by your government to attack and seize human and Polarian worlds, no matter how ripe and defenseless.” Calvin’s eyes were sharp, showing a glimmer of intelligence that seemed almost Rotham.

  “Now let us stop playing games and face facts,” he continued. “The Empire is splintering, and it’s getting worse by the day. That means eventually the human military will engage in war against itself, and the vast Imperial Navy that we both know is the main deterrent against a Republic-Imperial war, will shrink and disintegrate until it is no longer a credible power. When that happens, the Republic fleets will swarm human space and a vast interstellar war will break out.” Calvin’s eyes seemed almost to glow with passion as he spoke. He seemed collected and in control, but behind it Alex could tell Calvin was equal parts desperate and angry because of the grimness of the situation. Alex decided it was best not to interrupt the human for the time being.

  “You’re going to help me,” Calvin continued. “Because you want to prevent such a war as much as I do.”

  Alex pretended to consider that for a moment, even though he’d known from the beginning that helping Calvin prevent a war was, in fact, what was best for the Republic. “What about the Alliance?” asked Alex seriously. “Even if the Imperial Navy grinds itself into the dust, the Republic would still have to launch a fleet through Alliance space to attack the Empire, or else Polarian space, either of which would be highly dangerous.” That was true, although Alex knew this deterrent would be, at best, a stall. Considering the Republic had gone to war with both the Polarians and the Alliance before, in order to attack the Empire. And that was in spite of an Imperial Navy that could mount a resistance. One that couldn’t, one that had destroyed itself… that would be far too juicy a plum for the Rahajiim and their minions in the Senate to ignore.

  “Excellent point,” said Calvin. “Unfortunately I have intelligence that indicates the Alliance will soon cease to be a threat to Rotham warships crossing the DMZ.”

  “What?” asked Alex, unable to hide his intrigue. “What intelligence?” If Calvin was telling it true, and the intelligence he claimed to have proved correct, then it was likely already too late to stop the war. Alex hoped desperately that it was wrong, that it was a lie, a trick invented by Calvin to manipulate him. It has to be false…

  “That brings us to why I’m here paying you a visit. I’m going on a mission into the DMZ to scout Alliance space and monitor their military activity, and you’re coming with me. Together, with a small team, we’re going to see for ourselves whether or not there is any credibility to this intelligence.”

  “Small team? So does that mean you’re not taking this vessel?” He looked around at his quarters, thinking the Nighthawk with its stealth capability would be especially well-suited to the task. Alex had personally witnessed Calvin and his operators successfully infiltrate Alliance space before, and even land an away team on the closely-guarded fortress world of Tybur.

  “The Nighthawk must continue its ongoing mission and eliminate the remaining isotome weapons, I’m sure you agree that’s the highest priority.”

  Alex nodded. He did agree. And wished he could be in two places at once and assist in that effort as well. Indeed if the humans would actually trust him and grant him full access to the ship’s computers and communications equipment, and actually let him assist in the isotome investigation, he would rather remain and focus on that more urgent priority. But since he knew from experience that they would only shut him away and distrust him, and perhaps for understandable reasons, he would gladly go with Calvin and try to stop a war.

  “As for us,” said Calvin. “We will be taking a small Rotham craft and posing as a harmless commercial vessel. It will be your job to handle communications and make certain we’re seen as authentic.”

  “If we get boarded, it will be the end of all of us,” said Alex.

  “Then it is your job to make certain we don’t get boarded,” said Calvin, folding his arms. “You’re former Advent, you have adequate training, and best of all you’re a bona fide Rotham. I have some humans on this ship who can speak your language but we both know none of them can make it sound just right. That’s why we need you.”

  That and a few other reasons, thought Alex. “It’s because your vocal anatomy isn’t sufficiently equipped to make anything better than crude approximations of our sounds,” said Alex. “A true Rotham can always tell.”

  Calvin nodded. “Good thing you’re a true Rotham.”

  “Indeed.”

  “Once we see for ourselves that there is, or isn’t, cause for alarm in Alliance space—such as a crippled and defeated Alliance military—we will send word to the queen. That way, if the threat is real, she’ll know not to engage the rival human fleet.”

  Alex doubted it would prove so simple as that. But he also guessed Calvin’s intelligence made the threat sound more credible than it actually was. The Alliance was governed by a paranoid dictator and boasted a formidable military. Nothing that could ultimately oppose any of the major powers in the galaxy, but dangerous enough to make any of them think twice about dancing with the Alliance. “And how do you propose for us to safely observe the Alliance’s military activity without attracting unwanted attention?”

  “The basic idea is that if the Alliance is operating normally, then the treaty is probably still in effect that allows peaceful vessels to pass through the DMZ for commercial purposes, so long as they have no weapons. Additionally, the people we’re working with have connections inside the Alliance. We will utilize those. However, if the Alliance has been compromised, then I’m guessing they’ll be too busy to care about us. And if the Alliance is so utterly defeated that the Rotham military is already in control of the region, then we cross our fingers and hope the Rotham won’t fire on one of their own citizens just trying to operate a small freight business.”

  “Okay…” said Alex, considering the details. That angle should probably work, he thought. He’d operated with weaker cover stories before. But he’d also been found out and exposed before. Which was how Calvin and his shipmates had come across him in the first place. “There are quite a few concerns still.”

  “The fine details are for you to worry about,” said Calvin.

  Typical… Alex’s eyes narrowed but he accepted that there would be no changing the human’s mind. And probably for the best. If any of them were going to survive this jaunt into hell in a two-bit cargo vessel, they would need every detail meticulously considered, planned, and prepare
d for. Alex had no doubt their best hopes depended on his skill and knowledge, and that no one else here could do a better job.

  “Best get to it,” said Calvin. “We depart at oh-six-hundred hours.” And then, in a pathetic display of human humor, he added, “oh and remember to pack light.”

  “Very droll…” said Alex, unamused. Since he’d been plucked from one form of captivity and put into another he had virtually nothing to his name.

  Calvin nodded. Alex wondered if the human’s attempt at a joke had been for his own benefit rather than Alex’s. Indeed as he examined the human’s face, he could tell the man was on the verge of saying something else but held his tongue. Like there was some further detail, some warning perhaps, that he wanted to share but was afraid to. Like he was doing some kind of balancing calculus, trying to decide whether or not it was in his best interest to inform Alex. And, truthfully, Alex couldn’t say what was in Calvin’s best interest, but he knew what was in his own best interest.

  “There’s something else, isn’t there?” he asked, looking at Calvin shrewdly.

  “Yes, there is one other thing,” said Calvin. Apparently that was all the coaxing he needed. “After we’re done in Alliance space, the mission isn’t over.”

  Alex waited for the punch line. Wondering if that meant they were going to do something even more dangerous than the planned suicidal jaunt through Alliance space.

  “We’re going into Rotham space. That’s right, we’re going to spy on your people,” Calvin’s eyes probed him. “We’re going to see if the Republic is gathering its fleets and making ready for war. And then we’re going to report that to the queen. I need you to make sure you’re okay with that. If you have a problem, you need to find a way to deal with it. Because this is happening.”

  Alex wasn’t as comfortable with that as Calvin probably hoped. Mostly because he doubted that was truly the only reason Calvin had for spying on the Republic. But Alex also understood that voicing any objection now, or even showing a glimmer of hesitation, would do nothing to help him. Best-case scenario, Calvin would keep him on a shorter leash, he’d still be going but would have zero autonomy. Worst-case, Calvin would leave him behind. Rendering him useless. But if Alex cooperated with Calvin, and gave him his support, then Alex would be able to tag along and see what Calvin was really up to—if anything. And, when the time came, assuming they even survived their mission inside Alliance space, and Calvin presented a danger, Alex could make a move. Either stopping the clever human or else making every effort to do so. Best of all, Calvin was unknowingly presenting Alex with a golden opportunity. If I’m in Republic space again, and I have access to the communication equipment, and I know I will—I’ll have to, I’m the only Rotham he’s got to manage the comm, thought Alex, then that means I’ll be able to re-establish contact with the Advent!

  “Yes, I’m all right with it,” said Alex carefully. “We can gather intelligence on the Rotham fleets,” he didn’t want to sound too eager on the one hand or too suspicious on the other. “If it means we’ll be preventing a war.”

  Calvin nodded and Alex was unable to tell whether or not the human believed him. “Glad to hear it,” said Calvin, clapping Alex on the shoulder. A clumsy but very common human gesture that was undoubtedly the source of countless unnecessary bruises.

  With that, Calvin left. And Alex was alone once more. But with so much more to think about.

  As he set to task drawing up the particulars of the cover identity they would need if they encountered a Republic patrol ship, Alex thought of the irony that he even bothered to do anything. Since, on some cerebral level, he knew for a fact that the universe and everything within it would eventually end. And when it did nothing he did, nor anything anyone else did, would matter, and yet he couldn’t stop himself from caring, no more than he could stop himself from doing everything possible to affect whatever short-term outcome he felt was best. Perhaps it was just the brain chemistry, the firings of electrical activity in his head, but he was undeniably compelled to do everything he could to ensure the future of his people and prevent as much slaughter and suffering as he could. Even though he knew, at best, he had ten more decades left of breathing and feeling and thinking and then… he’d be gone and wouldn’t care. No one survives their own death, Alex was sure, which meant he wouldn’t be able to care one way or another how his efforts had gone, once his final moment transpired.

  And yet he did care. And felt driven to do all he could, compelled to make every possible effort. Despite the futility. Despite the inevitability. Despite the knowledge that he was just a squishy sack of goo, like every other Rotham, human, and Polarian, a squishy sack of goo that happened to be self-aware—for the moment anyway—and would eventually rot and decay and deteriorate.

  I’ll do everything I can, he thought. I’ll succeed and the Republic will endure. It has to. Else the blood will run like the vast rivers of Ro, mighty and endless.

  As he cleared his head and got back to work, he couldn’t help but wonder if he really was more grounded in reality than the Polarians, or if he was actually every bit as delusional and it just manifested itself differently.

  Chapter 17

  The prison colony of Gamma Persei Three seemed like a much different place than it had before his time in the black cell. Most notably, the number of guards had been greatly reduced. There were still enough guards to manage the various watches, and more than enough to keep the prisoners under control, but the number had diminished. Additionally, many of the portable structures had been taken off the power grid, and only blackness could be seen through their windows. Clearly much of the prison staff had gone away, probably for good.

  Unmistakably, it was a bad sign for the prisoners. The whole operation was shutting down. That means they’ll start to sweep away the evidence any day now, he thought darkly.

  There were other changes too that only added to his suspicions. A sense of tension in the air, anxious-looking guards, no new supplies were being shuttled down—or prisoners for that matter. No doubt they were just waiting for some kind of final order to come down the pipeline.

  Another problem had surfaced during his confinement in the black cell. The escape plan had called for Edwards and Harkov to escape with him. Nimoux would get all three of them out of the prison and off this planet and then Harkov and Edwards would testify with him before the Assembly. What would corroborate his story better than joint testimony from the Commander of the Fifth Fleet and the Director of Intel Wing? But unfortunately, Edwards was no longer able to escape. Just a week prior to Nimoux’s release from the black cell, Edwards broke his ankle. There was no way he could run three meters less yet escape into the nearby mountains. Edwards would have to be left behind.

  It was regrettable, but Nimoux could think of no other way to handle the situation. Edwards’ best chance, everyone’s best chance, was for Nimoux and Harkov to slip away and call for help. At least then rescue would be on its way.

  Harkov thought differently and she refused to leave Edwards’ side.

  “You go ahead,” she told him once they had a moment alone.

  “You should come with me,” he said. “Together we can make a much stronger case before the Assembly and…” he hesitated to say the rest. That she was in mortal danger if she remained. Not that attempting escape promised to be much safer.

  “I can’t leave Jack. He needs me.”

  “He wants what’s best for you and the Empire,” said Nimoux, trying to be persuasive. “If we ask him, I’m sure he’ll tell you—”

  “I’m sorry but the answer is no,” Harkov’s eyes made it clear she was unwilling to budge. “I just can’t leave him. If the love of your life were here, I’m sure you’d feel the same way.”

  “I suppose so,” Nimoux said. And as he thought about it, he did somewhat understand. He still thought it was irrational, Harkov’s presence here did nothing to improve Edwards’ chances, but he understood the feeling of devotion. He even thought she was probably
right. “I’m going tonight.”

  “So then I guess this is goodbye,” she said.

  “For now. But I’m coming back soon, I promise. And when I do, I’m bringing the cavalry with me.”

  She gave him a hopeful smile. “We’ll be here waiting. Good luck to you, Captain.” She saluted him.

  He returned the salute. “I won’t be leaving until after dark. If you change your mind… just let me know.”

  She thanked him but she didn’t change her mind. And by the time he’d finished his preparations it was clear he’d be escaping alone.

  At least it’ll be easier by myself, he thought. But he still felt sorry. He briefly considered inviting one of the other prisoners to join in his escape but there was none he trusted and it was too late to involve anyone else anyway.

  “All prisoners will fall into line immediately and proceed to the cell block without delay. Failure to comply will result in extreme consequences,” announced a voice over the loudspeakers in the yard. Nimoux took his position in line with the other prisoners as they started forming up into rows and columns, the announcement repeated twice. Some of the other prisoners looked at him, remembering that he was the one who’d failed to comply before, however long ago that’d had been—Harkov and Edwards had told him their best estimate was he’d been in the black cell for around thirty days.

  The guards patrolling the yard converged on the group of prisoners and additional guards emerged from the barracks to help ensure that nightly lockup went smoothly. Nimoux complied and cooperated in every way, making sure not to draw attention to himself. His only thought at that moment was making certain he wound up in the correct cell. He counted the prisoners, thought of how many cells there were, and remembered the pattern in which the guards loaded the cells: always on the second floor, starting from the east, three prisoners to a cell. That means I need to be in line here… He knew a wrong calculation would mean losing out on his chance to escape tonight.