“We can’t claim our reward yet because first we have to go make a stop in the middle of nowhere?” Jasmine pressed him.
“Patience,” said Zander. “All will make sense in time. Now go.”
Chapter 19
Calvin was the first through the Nighthawk’s jetway; it was an experience he always loathed because he could imagine himself being blown out into space, and he didn’t feel secure again until he found himself on the other side of the airlock on Aleator One. The rest of his team followed, they were an unlikely bunch: Rez’nac, a large and powerfully muscular Polarian with fierce bruises and scars; Alex, a cunning-eyed Rotham who looked extra small standing next to Rez’nac; Rain, a harmless, almost naïve-looking human doctor with fiery red hair, intensely blue eyes, and a relentless smile; Miles, a big-framed, nervous-looking human who was at the same time thrilled to be re-united with Calvin and terrified be back on Aleator; Rafael, who looked like he could actually blend-in here with his eye-patch and scars; and of course Calvin himself. They were each casually dressed, as Calvin had ordered, and most of them had a concealed side-arm, everyone but Alex. Who Calvin was not ready to trust any more than he had to.
The Nighthawk’s two prisoners—an older man named Todd and his younger, scrawnier counterpart Julio—also exited the ship. They were escorted by a man and woman from special forces and both prisoners were kept in restraints to minimize risk.
True to his word, Grady Rosco was waiting for them, along with about a dozen Rosco soldiers, each expertly-dressed and armed with sub-machine guns.
“This visit won’t be a repeat of last time,” said Grady, once Calvin had come aboard. “I promise you that,” he looked at his soldiers and then back to Calvin, obviously pleased. “And honestly, if you’d only told me last time that you were coming, things would have been different.”
Calvin recalled the bone-chilling terror of his last visit, when he’d been forced to race through the halls to evade unlikely enemies, CERKO soldiers who’d tried to kill him. And how Titus Antony, a man Calvin had never previously met, had given up his life to keep him safe. The Roscos had considered the incident a grave embarrassment, they prided themselves in keeping a house of order—despite the number of crooks and criminals who frequented their establishments—and had a zero-tolerance policy toward anyone who upset the natural order of things here. In their den, the Roscos were untouchable and fancied themselves like gods.
“I have no doubt,” said Calvin, reassuring Grady. “Now, I understand that you’re able to take these prisoners off my hands?”
“Of course,” Grady nodded and two of his soldiers broke away from the others and accepted custody of the prisoners. Both Todd and Julio looked horrified, no doubt they were familiar with the Roscos reputation for severity when provoked.
“And you’re to see that they are transferred to the queen’s fleet,” added Calvin, “alive and unharmed.”
“Alive I can guarantee,” said Grady. “But unharmed… that depends on them,” he gave the prisoners a menacing look, clearly a warning.
“Fair enough,” said Calvin. He only wished he’d had time to interrogate the prisoners himself but between prepping for the mission and trying to get a little rest, it hadn’t been an option. I’ll just have to trust that Summers really did get everything out of them, thought Calvin. And that it will lead to the destruction of the isotome weapons.
He considered, very briefly, asking the Roscos to interrogate the prisoners further but then remembered how their method of interrogation involved torturing the subject to death, and deceased individuals made poor interviewees. He put his mind at ease knowing that the queen and her people would continue the interrogation. And that Summers had done as good a job as anyone could expect. He trusted Summers now, he really did, but he also knew she was a naval officer and didn’t have the benefit of Intel Wing training. So she might not have conducted the most effective interrogation… No, I have to stop thinking like that. Doubts circled in his head but he forced them away, knowing there was nothing he could do. He needed to have faith in other people—something that was difficult for him—and focus on the task at hand.
“Take them away,” Grady ordered his men. Two of them left, taking the prisoners. As they went, Grady gave Calvin’s team a good, hard look. He seemed amused at the sight of the aliens in particular and Calvin remembered how the Roscos conducted all of their business exclusively in human. Though they tolerated aliens on Aleator and accepted their money, the Roscos had no fondness for them and had never tried to keep that secret. “As for you lot,” Grady’s eyes returned to Calvin. “Please come this way.”
Grady led and Calvin followed along with his team. The remaining Rosco soldiers escorted them as they made their way through the corridors of Aleator One which, Calvin noted, no longer showed any sign of the firefight that had almost killed him not very long ago.
There were lots of people coming and going through the corridors of Aleator One: aliens, mercenaries, gangsters, smugglers, pirates, con-men, thieves, fugitives, prostitutes, people of every sort and caliber. But each and every one of them scrambled to get out of their way, happy to dart aside and make a path for Grady and the other Roscos. Many of these people were cheats and criminals who played their own games by their own rules, and most undoubtedly had a very creative grasp of ethics. But all of them had the wisdom to know and abide by the one commandment that governed Aleator: Don’t piss off the Roscos.
Their route took them past the Rodeo Den casino. Calvin looked at it curiously as they walked by the main entrance, smelling the cigarette smoke wafting out into the hall. It really hadn’t been too long ago that he’d gone in there, under cover, seeking out signs of Raidan. Not having the foggiest clue what he was getting himself into, and what was about to happen. He never expected to be back here again, especially so soon. What a small galaxy it is, he mused.
The Roscos took them to Grady’s office and Grady invited Calvin inside to discuss details, everyone else remained outside, including the soldiers.
Once the door was closed and Grady and Calvin had both taken their seats on opposite sides of the table—Calvin wanted to stand but Grady insisted otherwise—they got right down to it.
“We need to leave as soon as possible,” said Calvin. “Time is short. The sooner I collect the intelligence I need, the sooner I can send it to the queen and prevent a slaughter.”
“I have no love of the Empire,” said Grady in a cautious tone. He took a moment to light up a cigar. He offered one to Calvin but Calvin declined. After a good, long taste of the smoke he exhaled it and continued. “Yes, no love indeed. However I do have a love for humanity. We Roscos haven’t forgotten what we are. You say humanity is in danger?”
“I do,” said Calvin. “It’s no secret to anyone that the storms of civil war are brewing. The queen has gathered her fleet and the Assembly, under the direction of Caerwyn Martel, is mustering its forces as well. The two will inevitably collide. It’s not a matter of if, it’s a matter of when. After that happens—”
“The human military will be crippled, and then the aliens can flood the borders. Conquering human worlds without opposition,” said Grady knowingly.
“Yes,” said Calvin. “And I mean to prevent that,” he wasn’t entirely sure how. But, unable to marshal any other hope, he’d convinced himself that, once he showed the queen and her knights indisputable proof that the Rotham were gathering their fleets, and that the Alliance could not deter them, then the queen would delay engaging the Assembly’s fleet. Possibly even use the intelligence to convince the other side to agree to some sort of compromise, or temporary alliance. For the sake of human security. Whether a system bled for the queen or bled for the Assembly, no system wanted to find itself on the business-end of a Rotham invasion, Calvin was sure. Well, none except Renora. But ever more that system seemed to be a lost cause…
“Indeed, a civil war would not be profitable for anyone. Not for the Empire. Not for Aleator. Not for the Alli
ance. Not for any humans anywhere,” said Grady. “It would only benefit the aliens. And maybe the Khans,” as he spoke the name his voice carried a special amount of loathing. “You have my full support,” said Grady. “And it’s true we owe you a favor. A particularly important favor, one that has been eating against Rosco honor as an unpaid debt for far too long.”
Technically they owed the debt to Calvin’s father, Samil Cross, for something he’d done for them, something Calvin could only speculate at, and technically Samil was still alive. However the Roscos believed him dead and, as much as it pained him, Calvin needed the favor they were offering. So he chose not to inform them that his father was alive on Tybur. If one could consider the sad situation he’d gotten himself into life of any sort…
“I have gotten you a ship, just like you asked, it’s in launchbay five,” said Grady. “It’s a Rotham ship. Nothing too special. An unarmed commercial freighter, a small one. Actually it’s more a cargo-vessel than a proper freighter.”
“And it has no weapons at all, right?” asked Calvin, for his ruse to work their ship had to have absolutely no offensive capability. Otherwise the treaty that allowed such ships to pass through Alliance space would not be in force, and they could be stopped, boarded, and even destroyed.
“No weapons, just like you said.”
“Good,” said Calvin. “And what about the other details?” He knew the Roscos were going to steal him a ship, so he’d asked them to make certain its disappearance was not traceable. If its identity wound up on some roster of missing ships then, the instant they were spotted by a Rotham patrol, they’d almost certainly be boarded and captured.
“The ship’s owner is also its pilot. It’s usually flown by just one Rotham, I don’t remember the bastard’s name but I’ve got all the details right here.” He patted an electronic device that Calvin hoped carried all the documents and intel he would need. “He docked his ship here a few days ago. It fit all the specifications you asked for and, even better, the owner owes us some money so we seized his ship, privately of course. Feel free to take it. Consider it a gift. And the payment of a favor long overdue.”
“I will,” said Calvin. “What about the original owner?”
“He’s somewhere safe. Somewhere no one will find him. Don’t worry, no one knows we have him—and no one’s gonna know—so you can use his identity and get away with it.” He took another long puff of his cigar. “Have your own Rotham bastard pretend to be him, no one will be the wiser. By the way what’s the deal with him anyway? Is he your pet or something?”
“No, not my pet,” said Calvin. Though he wasn’t quite sure how he’d describe his relationship with Alex. A semi-trusted, dangerous intelligence operative who happens to share our goals and so we’re working with him even though he might kill us in our sleep? Calvin chose not to elaborate.
Grady shrugged. “Well, whatever. Your business is your business. You’ll find the ship ready to leave immediately. It’s stocked with all the supplies you asked for. Any documents you need are here,” Grady handed Calvin the electronic storage device.
“Thank you.”
“Consider the debt paid,” said Grady with a serious expression. “In full.”
“I do,” said Calvin. “Except for one more thing.”
Grady looked at him curiously. He didn’t say anything but he raised eyebrow and took another draw from the cigar. Breathing it out almost smugly. “God that never gets old,” he said, patiently waiting for Calvin to elaborate.
Calvin tried not to choke on the disgusting cigar smoke. Not sure how Grady managed to enjoy it so much. “You told me you had connections in the Alliance and that they would help.”
“Ah yes,” said Grady. “I almost forgot about that.” He took another draw from the cigar.
“Well?” asked Calvin, as he waited for Grady to breathe out the smoke and continue.
“You see,” said Grady. “That’s sort of the bad news.”
Calvin felt his heart stop. “Bad news?” The use of any Alliance contacts that the Roscos had would significantly improve his chances of getting through this mission alive. If something had happened to them, or worse if Grady’s dealings with them had somehow given away to the Alliance government that Calvin was coming… he was a goner for sure.
“I tried to contact them, I really did,” said Grady. “But… nothing.” He shook his head and enjoyed another taste of his cigar.
“What do you mean nothing?”
“I mean nothing. They’ve gone dark. Vanished. Vamoose. Disappeared. Gone. Poof. Take your pick.”
“You haven’t heard anything at all from your contacts in the Alliance?” Calvin pressed him. “When did you stop hearing from them?”
“Must have been a few days ago. I’m not really sure. Our connections there have always been too few and too risky to get much out of, and we don’t stay in very regular of contact. It’s too risky. We just try to keep tabs on the Khans, that’s it.”
“And?”
“And I tried to get them over kataspace and got nothing. Bupkiss. Zilch. I don’t know why. Maybe they’re dead.” He took another draw from his cigar and shrugged. “Whatever the case, they won’t be able to help you.”
“I can’t believe you weren’t going to tell me this,” said Calvin as his mind tried to process what this meant. He had a very ominous, dark feeling. And all he could assume was that something had happened inside the Alliance, something dreadful. Perhaps the Rotham had already made their move. Like Samil had tried to warn them. And Calvin would get there too late, and by the time he did… by the time he saw what was there and tried to warn Kalila…
“I was going to tell you,” said Grady, looking offended. “Of course I was. It just hadn’t come up yet.”
“Look, I have to leave right away.”
“Like this very minute?” asked Grady.
“Like yesterday, or even a week ago,” said Calvin, practically jumping up from his chair. “See that the ship is cleared for immediate departure.”
“I will,” said Grady, taking his time to stand up. “But first you have to do one thing for me.”
“What?” asked Calvin, annoyed by any delay.
Grady extended his right hand. Calvin looked down at it confused, like it was an alien he’d never seen before.
“Shake my hand,” said Grady.
“Why?” Calvin didn’t understand how a handshake merited such urgency.
“Shake my hand to symbolize that the debt is repaid. That the deal we struck was agreed to.”
“Okay, fine,” Calvin reached out and shook Grady’s hand for a second. Then he spun and raced for the door. Calling behind him, “get the ship cleared!”
Once he emerged from Grady’s office, Calvin gave orders to his team. “Let’s move, now.”
He bolted down the hall and his team hurried to catch up.
“What is it?” asked Rafael. “What did he say?”
“Yeah, what’s the dealio?” asked Miles.
“Our ship is in launchbay five, this way,” said Calvin. “We have to launch ASAP.”
“Why the sudden urgency?” asked Rafael. “What did the Rosco boss tell you?”
“The Alliance has gone dark.”
***
More of his colleagues and co-conspirators were turning up dead. Or had gone missing—which was basically the same thing. The only difference was whether or not the body had been found. Guillermo wanted to stop listening, more than anything, he wanted to close his eyes, plug his ears, and pretend that everything was going to be fine. That he wasn’t being hunted like the others. That the killings had stopped. But he couldn’t stop himself from hanging onto every scrap of news that came he way, motivated by grim curiosity, deep paranoia, and an obsessive sense of self-preservation. Neurotically possessed by any information he could find.
Who are they and why are they coming after us? He wondered over and over. Even though he was fairly certain he knew the answer. It was the Rahajiim. Or may
be it was the Enclave. It could even be both. The Phoenix Ring had never been very friendly with the Rahajiim, and the cooperation between the two groups had only lasted long enough for the development of the isotome weapons. But Zane had always made it clear that the Rahajiim were a serious threat, and would need to be dealt with. Just like how Zane feared the Enclave, and had made arrangements to ensure their cooperation and their loyalty as well.
But in the end, Zane himself had been fooled. Tricked and betrayed by the Enclave. Allowing the isotome weapons to slip through his fingers. And then, somehow, in spite of his great power and tremendous wealth, and all his many layers of protection, they’d still gotten to him, and he’d been killed. Murdered from inside the safety of his own sanctuary. He’d been deeply hidden on Capital World in a secret place that was guarded like a fortress, but in the end none of it had done him any good. And now he was dead. The Phoenix Ring leadership was dead. And anyone connected to the Phoenix Ring, no matter how remotely, was winding up a corpse somewhere. Or disappearing.
Guillermo was not only the highest-ranking Phoenix Ring member still alive that he knew of, he was also the only remaining member. Celeste Ortega-Gasset was still alive too. But she’d never been a member of the Phoenix Ring, not truly. More like a paid informer. Maybe even an ally. But not a true member. Even though, by the end, she’d had significant power within the group and probably merited a seat at the table, Zane had never allowed her to be fully embraced. He’d always held her at arm’s length. And perhaps that was why she was still alive. Maybe they aren’t hunting for her, thought Guillermo. But he knew that couldn’t be true. The extermination of the Phoenix Ring had proven both thorough and uncompromising, whoever was behind it had to be hunting for her too. Just as much as they were hunting for Guillermo. Celeste was only still alive for the same two reasons Guillermo was. A little bit of luck and a whole hell of a lot of cleverness.
The Phoenix War Page 29
