The Phoenix Requiem (The Phoenix Conspiracy Series Book 7)

by Richard Sanders

  I did not deserve to be a Fleet Commander, Ravinder reflected, as she reached her office and the door closed behind her. It should have been someone else. Someone more capable. Someone more worthy. Perhaps…perhaps then…just maybe those people would still be alive. If only someone more intelligent than myself had been given the charge.

  Although, in a way, it was fitting. Ever since the defeat at Centuria V had become inevitable, and Sir Arkwright had given her the order to retreat, Ravinder had felt a powerful urge to apologize to someone, anyone, everyone. And who better to confess her failure to than the queen herself?

  She activated the terminal and then stood facing it, feeling her pulse quicken. She swallowed, her throat felt dry, and then with a hum it switched on and, like that, she was face-to-face with the queen of the Empire. Kalila Akira. The queen sat on her throne, it was elegant and ornate, as were her surroundings—the Ancient Palace harkened back to a time long ago, when the ruler of Capital World demonstrated his power through extravagance. The elaborate paintings on the walls, gilded fixtures, and other ornaments seemed to clash with the queen’s minimalistic dress. The only overstated luxury she wore was a small crown atop her head.

  Kalila was not a large person, rather the opposite, and sitting down, although the camera had been placed level with her piercing eyes, there was nothing about her appearance that should have intimidated someone like Ravinder. And yet Ravinder felt herself trembling as she waited for the queen to address her.

  “Admiral Ravinder,” said Kalila slowly.

  “Your Highness,” said Ravinder, bowing her head. “You honor me.”

  “You may stand at ease,” said Kalila. Ravinder raised her head and tried her best to look at ease, though she felt anything but.

  “Thank you, Your Majesty,” said Ravinder. “You are too kind. I am unworthy,” she said, hearing herself starting to mumble as the words escaped her lips at an accelerated rate. “I—it was my fault. I apologize, Your Highness, I failed you at Centuria V. Just as surely as I failed the Imperial citizens who resided there…I was entrusted to defend them and…I could not. I accept any punishment you wish to bestow upon me, for I am unworthy of any—”

  The queen interrupted her. “Silence, Fleet Admiral Ravinder, it is my turn to speak.”

  “Of course, Your Majesty,” said Ravinder, saying nothing more.

  “I have contacted you, not to discuss the tragic failure at Centuria V, but instead to discuss our plans for defending Capital World—and to provide you with specific orders for the role you shall play in that defense, so that Centuria V, and Layheri Alpha, are not repeated here.”

  Ravinder resisted the urge to verbalize her surprise, or to insist further that she be punished. For truly, that was what she knew she deserved.

  “Therefore,” the queen continued. “I neither accept your apology nor recognize your failure. You attempted to defend the good people of Centuria V to the best of your ability, but even great intentions and clever strategy cannot overcome the imbalance in numbers that you experienced there. That is why Sir Arkwright ordered you and the remnants of the defense force to withdraw from Centuria V and come here. I gave him that order.”

  This news surprised Ravinder. The order to retreat had come from the queen? The sovereign protector of the realm had ordered her military to abandon otherwise defenseless civilians—citizens of the Empire—to be put to the sword of the Dread Fleet? That didn’t sound right.

  “Once it became clear that further commitment to the battle in the Centuria System was tantamount to suicide, and that we could expect the complete loss of all our forces there—and that there was no possibility of saving the populace—I made the strategic judgment to withdraw everything and everyone I could—including you and the Hyperion—so that, while we had no chance of defending the Empire in the engagement at Centuria, we might still have a chance—our best chance—of defending the Empire, and the rest of humanity, by committing ourselves one-hundred percent to the defense of Capital World. For, if this planet falls to the Dread Fleet, I am quite certain that the rest of the Empire will follow in short order. Wouldn’t you agree, Admiral?”

  Ravinder looked into Kalila’s eyes; they seemed almost to see through her. It was unnerving. “Of course, Your Highness. Without our government, there can be no order, and without order, no defense.” Ravinder did not make that statement out of idle lip-service, rather she believed every word of it. No matter what else happened, Capital World was, she knew, the key to whatever hope humanity still possessed. It could not be allowed to fall. Not to the Dread Fleet, not to the Rotham, not to anyone.

  “I’m pleased to see that we are of one mind on the issue,” said the queen. “Which is why I am allowing you to retain command of your ship; in addition, I have a special assignment for you.”

  Ravinder was pleased to hear this, although she still felt undeserving, considering her failure. Whether or not the queen was willing to acknowledge it out loud, she must blame Ravinder for the loss of Centuria V. How could she not? “You are most generous, Your Majesty,” said Ravinder, bowing again, briefly. “I shall endeavor to fulfill any task you would ask of me.”

  “Your loyalty to the Empire, and to me, will not be forgotten,” said the queen. “I am giving you command of the re-organized Third Fleet. With it, it shall be your assignment, and great honor, to lead the charge against the enemy once they arrive.”

  It took Ravinder a moment to process what the queen had said. She was not particularly familiar with the Third Fleet. But, then again, the ships were all being re-assigned and so the various commanders in this new Third Fleet could be composed of just about anybody, she supposed. Then it occurred to her that the important part of the queen’s message hadn’t been which fleet Ravinder would command, or even that Ravinder would retain her status as a Fleet Admiral in an active way, but rather what the task was that the queen had just placed at her feet. Fitting, thought Ravinder, a death sentence…

  “You wish me to lead the vanguard against the Dread Fleet?” asked Ravinder, to clarify.

  “Yes,” said Kalila. “You have the experience of having gone up against them once already. You know what they are capable of. You know their weaknesses.”

  They don’t have any, thought Ravinder.

  The queen continued, if she noticed the dour expression that had crept over Ravinder’s face—despite the Fleet Admiral’s best efforts to maintain propriety—the queen gave no sign. “I want you to be the tip of our spear, Admiral,” said the queen.

  “Of course,” said Ravinder, knowing she had no choice. And, to an extent, believing this assignment had a kind of karmic justice to it. “I am happy to serve the Empire.” She narrowly avoided adding the phrase “with my death.”

  “You will command the Third Fleet and attack the Dread Fleet directly,” said the queen. “I have discussed the strategy with my advisors, and your objective is as follows: you will engage the enemy, draw their fire, and then withdraw. You will repeatedly charge against the enemy, and withdraw, so long as you are able, with the intention of getting as many of their ships to chase you off as you can. If we can divide the Dread Fleet into smaller pieces, it will weaken their Phalanx-shield and that will allow our starships to have a chance in a line-to-line star fight. Do you understand your mission?”

  “Loudly and clearly, Your Highness,” said Ravinder, again bowing. She wondered just how many of these charges and tactical withdrawals she and her forces would survive before being utterly destroyed. Two? Three possibly? Of course, despite the macabre nature of the assignment, Ravinder would execute her duty to the fullest. The Empire deserved nothing less. Especially given her personal failure at Centuria V. And, she had to admit, she understood the tactical advantage of drawing the Dread Fleet into smaller pieces, if it could be done.

  “Excellent,” said the queen. “I have given a general order to the various commanders assigned to the new Third Fleet to report to you; your staff, no doubt, is receiving their hails as
we speak.”

  “That is most efficient and prudent, Your Majesty. I will deploy the forces you have entrusted me with to the best of my wisdom and ability, and I shall execute your orders to the letter, Your Highness.”

  “Very good. Make certain not to waste time. The enemy could be upon us at any moment,” said the queen. “We must stand vigilant.”

  “Indeed, we must. To a swift and decisive victory against the enemies of the Empire,” said Ravinder.

  “To a swift and decisive victory,” the queen said, agreeing. “You have your orders. Make haste.” And with that, the screen went black, the call terminated.

  Ravinder felt as though a kind of weight had lifted when the queen’s broadcast ended; it was a relief not to have to stand before such royalty and keep her conduct impeccable, and yet she now felt a new, different weight upon her shoulders. The weight of a commander who had just been ordered to lead the first charge into the trenches of warfare, to take to the front line, to essentially be killed in the line of duty. It was the highest and noblest honor a soldier could have, and a duty each soldier swore to uphold, and was keenly aware of the day he or she joined the Imperial Armed Forces. There may come a time, every instructor would say to every recruit, when you may be asked to give your life for the greater good, safety, and well-being of the Empire; if that time comes, do you have what it takes to answer in the affirmative?

  Ravinder, so many years ago, had, like everyone else, answered that she did have what it takes, and that she would not hesitate to sacrifice her own life, or even those under her command if necessary, to ensure the safety and well-being of the Empire. Now, however, that the moment was upon her, and the call had come, she found herself strangely melancholic. She did not waver; no part of her wanted to shrink from this new, morbid responsibility. She knew it was what she had to do. And, in a way, it felt like justice, considering the deaths at Centuria V, which she failed to prevent. It seemed only fitting that she too should fall to the very menace she had failed to protect others from, when the Empire had looked to her for protection. That, however, did not make it feel easy.

  She sat down and considered the weight of it all and took a moment to take stock of her life. She thought of her formative years, from childhood until this day, and decided that, although her life had not been so long as she had supposed it would be, nor had she completed everything she had hoped to, she was, in fact, ready to make the ultimate sacrifice, just as the queen had asked. And, she also reflected that she could not command and expect her subordinates to make that same sacrifice, under her orders, if she too was not willing herself to give her all, when those above her had commanded her to do so.

  “We shall charge into the storm,” she whispered, speaking only to herself. “The storm that cannot be stopped. And yet…we will not be moved. We shall not fold; we shall not break; we shall not fail to do our duty.”

  She was ripped from her thoughts by the sound of the alert going off. It repeated its shrill tone, and she sprinted to the bridge without another thought.

  “Report!” she demanded, as she took the command position from her XO.

  “Alteredspace exit signatures are beginning to form on the edge of the system,” said the Chief of Operations. “Starships inbound.”

  “Have they transmitted their identities?” asked Ravinder, even though the alert status strongly suggested they hadn’t.

  “Negative, Admiral,” said the Chief of Operations.

  “It’s hard to say how many exactly there are,” said the XO, standing next to her. “But we’re observing what has to be multiple jump signatures.”

  “Condition One alert,” said Ravinder. Her people sprang to action, the klaxon sounded, replacing the Deck One alert, the shields were raised, and weapons armed. “General order to all commanders belonging to the Third Fleet,” Ravinder turned to face her communications department chief. “Tell them to form up on us and stay close.”

  “Aye, aye, sir,” said the Comms Chief; he and his assistants began relaying the message.

  “Helm,” said Ravinder.

  “Yes, Admiral?” asked the Chief Pilot.

  “Set an intercept course for those incoming ships. Maximum sublight thrust.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.”

  “Defense,” said Ravinder. “Make double-sure those weapons are ready. We’re going to need them.”

  “Yes, sir,” said the Defense Chief.

  “To all ships,” said Ravinder. “Lock targets and prepare to engage on my command.”

  ***

  By the time Calvin reached the bridge, he had composed himself. Rain was gone. That was a fact he would eventually accept, but, for now, he had a mission to command, and he couldn’t let that hole inside his heart compromise his judgment or else more crew could die. As suicidal as this mission seemed from the get-go, Calvin had somehow believed he could get his people in and out of Forbidden Space without any fatalities. That fantasy was now a shattered ruin, and the reality of the danger of their situation had sunk in. If he was to command this mission, he had to be ready; ready to make the hard decisions; ready to face the enemy; and most of all, ready to lose and sacrifice. There would be more blood before this was over, of that he was certain. His job was to make sure it remained as little as possible.

  “Status report,” he demanded, as he took the command position. Outside the window, he could see the bright, glowing purple orb—no doubt the parent star for the Forbidden Planet. From here, it looked about the size of a small ball. There were no asteroids out the window, or on the 3D display, so he took that to mean the Nighthawk had cleared the barrier. Though doing so had cost them…

  “We’re several million MCs from the Forbidden Planet,” said Jay.

  “Heading and speed?” asked Calvin.

  “Holding steady and awaiting orders.”

  “Awaiting orders from you, sir,” said the pilot, looking almost confused by the question.

  Calvin nodded. Shooting a quick glance at Summers, who had commanded the ship sufficiently well to get them away from the danger, but had also chosen to cease making commands out of respect for Calvin, who she knew was coming back, he thanked her with his eyes and the look she shot him back made it seem as though she had understood.

  Calvin swiveled to look back toward the helm. “Good man, Mr. Cox.” Calvin suddenly realized he’d used Jay’s rank and surname to address him—exactly as an officer should, and precisely something Calvin would almost never do. “Keep her steady and still, Jay,” he added, as if correcting a mistake. “And notify me if anything changes.” Damn, Summers must have rubbed off on me, he thought.

  “Aye, sir,” said Jay.

  “Now, the rest of you,” said Calvin. “Cassidy first, then Miles, and finally Summers.”

  “All systems are functioning normally,” said Cassidy.

  “And did you do an external scan to see what kind of damage—if any—we took from those asteroids and that space refuse?” Calvin pressed her.

  “Yes, sir. No damage.”

  So other than the tractor beam and dampening-field trap, Rez’nac’s course had steered them true. It was then that Calvin noticed Rez’nac was not in the 2O’s chair, but instead standing near the back of the bridge, quietly gazing out the window at the purple star, as if none of the rest of them were present. Calvin could only speculate as to what was going through the warrior’s head.

  “Your course got us through the asteroid barrier,” said Calvin, craning his neck to see the Polarian. “You should be proud.”

  “Pride is fickle vanity. I did get the ship through, but at the loss of one of your people—the human doctor—I accept any punishment you wish to impose upon me as compensation for her loss.” At that, he knelt. Calvin was taken aback by this and really did not know what to expect.

  “Stand up,” said Calvin. Rez’nac obeyed without question. “The loss of Rain is a tragedy for us all, and we will bear it together. But certainly no one is to blame, least of all you, Rez’nac
. Had it not been for your advice, the entire ship might have been lost trying to navigate that barrier.”

  “Your human platitudes are of no use to me,” said Rez’nac. “But I am humbled by your forgiveness. I promise to endeavor even more to ensure that no life is lost on my account. At least, no life on this ship.”

  “You’re doing just fine,” said Calvin. “Keep up the good work.” Before risking an argument with Rez’nac over the Polarian’s responsibility, or lack thereof, regarding Rain’s death, Calvin abruptly asked Miles about the status of the defense systems.

  “We’re stealthed and so our shields are down and the beam weapon is unpowered. I do have missiles loaded, just in case, and the guns are loaded too,” he sounded almost happy as he discussed the weapons. “I hope a Polarian warship so much as tries to tangle with us,” said Miles. “I’ll show those bastards a thing or two about human ferocity!”

  “I believe the expression is tango with us,” said Calvin. “But I get and appreciate your ultimate point. Our weapons are ready, and those not ready can be made ready at a moment’s notice. I hope we will not have to use them, but it is good to know that we have them.”

  “Just as it is good to have crumbs in your hands when you are starving,” said Rez’nac, getting everyone’s attention and surprise.

  “What was that?” asked Calvin. “Some kind of metaphor?”

  “Yes,” said Rez’nac, calmly but with a commanding tone. “When you are starving, you need a mighty meal to feed you and, although crumbs are food, they are not nearly enough food to take away your hunger. They are therefore no good to you. And you might as well have nothing.”

  Calvin raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying that if we run afoul of a defense patrol here, we will have no chance of using our defense systems to fight our way free?” He wondered if there was something about the Forbidden Planet and its defenses he did not know, and that the apparently confused 3D display could not tell him.