Chapter 5
The day rolled forward in slow motion, even though it was the start of a much-anticipated vacation.
The station had a large staff in addition to the five-hundred-person crew that maintained it. The facility provided most of the conveniences one might expect. Everything from diverse food options to commercial centers buzzing with activity on all public-access levels. But few of the diversions piqued Calvin’s interest. He avoided the gambling hall—even though he was free to play as much as he liked now—he just didn’t feel like it and instead spent his time exploring the station, enjoying some alone time. He stopped here and there to stare out the windows at the planet below. He’d been all over the Empire and was still caught off guard by the raw beauty of a sapphire-blue planet almost close enough to touch.
Eventually he returned to his room to read. But his books couldn’t hold his interest and neither did the online networks, so he sorted through papers relevant to the Phoenix’s mission and scribbled notes. He began a list of every possible motive Raidan might’ve had to go rogue, no matter how unlikely, hoping Calvin could put everything in perspective.
After a few minutes of this, however, his ideas ran out and became silly to amuse himself, like Raidan’s pizza was laced with amphetamines causing him to misbehave for several days. Calvin tossed aside his pen and crumpled the paper into a ball. What was the point? The case was decided. The sentence would be carried out. Asari Raidan would die, and the truth, whatever it was, would die with him. Calvin knew better than to hope he could figure out what Raidan’s motives had been. Not without more information. So it was a waste of time. An unwanted distraction that was already ruining his vacation.
As a last resort, he turned on some music—a very old piano solo recorded hundreds of years before—and lay in bed. He wasn’t tired enough to sleep, but, as he followed the gentle rolling notes of the sonata in a minor key, he was able to relax and push everything out of mind.
Until the comm panel started chirping at him. He resisted at first, covering his ears with a pillow, but eventually he answered the call. “Calvin here, what is it?”
“Heya there, Cal.”
It was Sarah, and she sounded more than a bit tipsy.
“It’s me, you know. I’m with Shen here, and we were just sayin’, ‘Where the hell is that commander of ours?’”
Calvin laughed. “In my room.”
“In your room? At 1800 hours on the first night of leave? Nooo … Can you believe that, Shen? He’s in his room on the first night of leave!”
Her voice was somewhat drowned out by the sounds of music and talking.
“That won’t do. Unless”—she giggled—”you’re not alone over there, are you, Cap’n?”
“No, I’m not alone.” Calvin looked around his room; it was empty except for piles of his junk and a few books on the floor. “Okay, I’m alone.”
“Then come on over here and have a few drinks with us. Don’tcha know we’re on vacation?”
He usually felt out of place in rooms crowded with people dancing, singing, drinking, and trying too hard to impress the opposite sex. But he didn’t have anything better to do, and both Sarah and Shen, like many in his crew, had become trusted friends. People he enjoyed spending time with. “All right, sure. Why not. Where are you?”
“Mist-36 …” The noisy song blasting in the background grew louder, making it almost impossible to hear Sarah.
“Okay, see you.” He switched off the panel.
Mist-36 … he’s seen it earlier that day. The larger of the two clubs on the station. He was pretty sure he knew how to find it again; there was no need to search for it on the computer. He dug out some fresh clothes and took a fast shower. Since he would be rubbing shoulders with other people his age, he felt compelled to make the best impression he could. Yet he always told people he wasn’t interested in meeting a girl and getting tied down somewhere, but really it was only the “getting tied down somewhere” part that bothered him.
Once dressed, he splashed water on his face and checked himself over in the mirror. He even fussed with his hair for a few seconds. “Not bad, Calvin, not bad. You clean up pretty well for an acting captain.” He grinned and dabbed on a tiny bit of cologne, very careful not to overdo it. This was one of those rare occasions where being only twenty-five was an advantage.
Unfortunately finding Mist-36 was harder than expected, and he ended up on the completely wrong side of the station. He’d never been good with directions—ironic for someone who began his career as a pilot. He preferred being the one who decided where to go, not how to get there. And now, lost as he was, he still didn’t want to ask for help. Not because of pride so much as a natural urge to solve the puzzle himself. He backtracked and tried again. When that didn’t work, he found a kiosk and looked up a map of the station, memorizing the way to Mist-36.
A long line of people waited outside under the glowing blue sign. He took his place and shuffled forward thoughtlessly, able to glimpse the club’s insides through a wide window along the wall. He tapped it with his knuckles and was surprised to see it was made of old-fashioned glass. He was glad starships didn’t use such a fragile material for their windows.
With his hands in his jacket pockets, he let his mind slip away from the boredom of waiting. He daydreamed, and, before he knew it, it was his turn.
One of the two bouncers in black suits spoke to him. “Yeah, you look all right. Here, thumb against the plate. It’s policy.”
Calvin fought to contain his smile. Being judged by a couple of meatheads to see if he was “pretty enough” to get inside seemed absurd. A paying customer with deep pockets, would they really turn him away? Apparently so, as about half the people had been refused.
“Hey, you listening, man?”
“Yeah, sorry, what?” He smiled, trying not to look rude, despite missing what they’d said.
“You gotta thumb the plate. It’s policy. No nonhumans, no criminals, and no noncitizens.”
Calvin pressed his thumb flat against the plate before catching the last qualifier. He wasn’t a noncitizen, but he was a half-citizen. Apparently that was enough to red-flag him.
“You’re only a half-citizen?”
“Yeah,” said Calvin. Full citizenship was hard to come by, so much so that even half-citizenship was often considered privileged.
“Sorry, pal. Full citizens only. Don’t feel bad. We turn away hundreds a day.”
“Okay, well, whatever.” Calvin walked away. Being as established as he was in the military, he forgot how much harder it was to get by in the Empire without being a full citizen. Even in the military he knew his citizenship status was holding him down at the lieutenant commander level. A rank that was still quite respectable for a twenty-five-year-old, but what about when he turned thirty-five? Would he still be a lieutenant commander? Did they intend to keep him down forever? His service record demanded better, but he tried not to think of such things. He’d be a full citizen someday, when he inherited his mother’s citizenship status at the time of her death. But, like any good son, he hoped that day never came.
“Hold up there, Calvin,” one bouncer said turning to the other. “Eric, it says here he’s a lieutenant commander. You know the rules. Officers get in no matter what.”
“What about the other rules? Like no noncitizens?”
“Idiot. This rule is the number one rule. Otherwise the boss loses his contract. This ain’t Main Street. If we start turnin’ away officers, we’re done. The rent on this place will—”
“Okay, guys,” said Calvin. “Make up your minds. In or out? I’m tired of standing here.”
“In,” the bouncer on the left said, pointing his thumb over his shoulder. The other eventually nodded and stepped out of Calvin’s way. “The cover charge is five Q.”
Calvin nodded and handed them the cash.
Inside the club was a strange combination of bright and dark. Most of the lights were off, but several blinked a soft variety of colors all over
the place. Everything was a little obscured by a lingering cloud of smoke, and people were everywhere, despite the efforts of the bouncers to keep most out. They were standing, either in circles chatting with others, or dancing to the energetic rhythms of some live musicians who Calvin didn’t recognize—probably a local sensation. He didn’t really care for the style, being partial to a different genre. Anand sometimes joked that Calvin had been born in the wrong decade.
He slipped through the mass of people and stopped near the center of the room, letting his eyes search for the familiar faces of his bridge crew. But almost no one’s face could be made out in the haze, and Calvin found himself wishing Sarah had given better directions.
Someone crashed into him, nearly throwing him off balance. But he kept his footing, wobbling a bit, and managed to catch the stranger by the forearm so she wouldn’t fall. As he let her go, he saw a pretty young face. Even in the dark she looked embarrassed while apologizing profusely.
“It’s all right,” said Calvin. “Don’t worry about it. You’re fine.”
“Once again, I’m very sorry.”
He laughed, stopping her as she turned away. “What’s your name?”
“Sylvia.”
“Well, Sylvia, maybe you can help me. I’m looking for where drinks are served.”
“Oh, there’s a sectioned-off bar right through there.” She pointed to a door on the left wall.
She brushed some of her light brown hair from her eyes and gave him a warm smile. It was hard to see her clearly in the darkness; her face was lit only by a blinking strobe light, but she was very cute. “Say …” Calvin hesitated. Somehow girls made him uneasy in a way that aliens bent on killing him never had. “I’m meeting up with some friends. Care to join me?”
“Thanks anyway, but no. I really have to go. Maybe some other time.”
He nodded, thinking it was probably for the best that she’d brushed him off. If things had gone differently, and they’d really hit it off, what then? An empty one-night stand and afterward never seeing each other again? Or, even less practical, a relationship? His career wasn’t suited for that kind of thing, with all the secrecy and traveling. And, in his eyes, he wasn’t a good-enough person to settle down with someone anyway. Not yet.
So he forgot about the girl and pushed on through the door she’d pointed out. He found several booths and a short bar sectioned off from the noisy main room. The lighting was a little brighter. The instant he walked in, he heard “Hello, Calvin!” from his left.
“Hello, Sarah and Shen.” He nodded and took an empty seat at their table.
An attendant followed him. “What can I get you, sir?”
Calvin hesitated—he didn’t drink alcohol. “I’ll have a glass of water,” he said, adding, “on the rocks.” He smiled like it was the funniest thing he’d ever said.
“Okay …” the attendant said, looking both unamused and disappointed as he left.
“The water’s free, but I hope you tip him anyway,” said Shen from behind a large mug.
“I’m sure he’ll live.” Calvin tried to make himself comfortable, shifting on the stiff furniture. “So what have you two been gabbing about while I kept you waiting?”
“Mostly about how slow you are,” Shen said.
Sarah giggled. “And how you never ask for directions.”
“We made a small wager to see how fast you’d get here. And you let me down, Cal.” Shen folded his arms.
With a broad grin Sarah said, “If you want a drink, Captain, it’s on me. I stumbled upon seventy Q somehow.” She spun Shen’s money card on the table, beneath her long slender fingers.
“Seventy Q, really?” Calvin asked Shen. “That’s almost a day’s pay. You sure you haven’t been drinking too much?”
Shen shrugged. “Probably. But what can I say?” He traced the foamy ring of his mug with one finger. “I’m on vacation. What’s a little betting?”
Calvin shook his head. “I don’t think betting’s your thing, Shen. Seems like you’re almost as bad as Miles.”
“Actually,” said Sarah, “we called him earlier to come up, but apparently he’s ‘on a roll.’ I guess he’s made a pretty good profit so far and doesn’t want to lose ‘the magic’ or whatever he calls it.”
Calvin raised an eyebrow. “You’re kidding me. He’s actually winning?”
Shen laughed. “First time for everything.”
“That reminds me,” said Calvin. “And don’t ask what one has to do with the other”—he pointed a finger—”but we’re getting a new XO.”
“What about Anand?”
“Transferred. Got his own command.”
“That rat. What a backstabbing traitor,” said Sarah with a smile. “And to think I’d always admired him.”
Calvin knew Sarah had much more than admired Anand. The two would flirt shamelessly, and, yet, they’d still never managed to hook up.
“Yeah … hard to believe he’s going,” said Shen. “I’m going to miss him.” Shen seemed almost pleased.
“So will I,” said Calvin.
“So who’s the new officer?” asked Shen.
“I honestly don’t know.”
The server brought Calvin his ice water and again asked if there was something more he could do. Calvin had intended to refuse, but, remembering what Shen had said about the tip, Calvin decided he’d order a small meal. He was looking over the menu when Shen pounded his shoulder.
“Hey, look at this.”
“What?” Calvin glanced down at the table’s viewscreen. Shen had activated the news station, and a large vessel could be seen leaving the dock, flanked by two other warships.
“A dreadnought with two corvettes. The Harbinger.”
“So what?”
“It’s our friend. Listen.” He handed Calvin a small earpiece.
He heard an articulate woman over the feed. She broadcasted from some newsroom off station. “It’s unknown where he’s being kept aboard the very large ship you see there. But former navy captain Asari Raidan is en route to Capital World on the ISS Harbinger, which is temporarily being used as a penal ship. It looks like the Imperial Navy has provided some extra escort, as you can see by the presence of the two corvettes. No word yet on who ordered the additional precaution or how far the escorts will go. But they’re about to clear the defense perimeter.”
Seeing the three patrons shift their attention from the bar’s food and drinks to the news, the waiting attendant excused himself and wandered off to some other table.
Calvin ignored him and let out a sigh. “I was hoping to get my mind off all of this.” He needed to accept that Raidan’s behavior was a mystery that would go unresolved. Calvin removed the earpiece and handed it back to Shen when flashes appeared on the viewer, lighting up the hulls of the two corvettes.
“Wait a second.” He snatched back the earpiece. As he did, the Praxis One station went to full alert with emergency lights snapping on. A noisy klaxon filled the air, and General Quarters was sounded. Most everyone in the bar jumped up and started screaming. Calvin had to plug his other ear to hear the broadcast.
“What’s going on?” asked Shen.
Calvin shushed them and listened. Unfortunately the noisy panic made it impossible to catch more than bits and pieces.
“Both corvettes have experienced localized explosions and are adrift. No word yet on injuries.”
The two escorting warships drifted away from the larger Harbinger, which looked untouched. Calvin knew from the damages that the corvettes’ main thrusters and engines were crippled. Both ships opened fire at the Harbinger with basic laser arrays, but it was pointless. They couldn’t hope to breach the dreadnought’s shields, and it was quickly moving out of range. An instant later the Harbinger vanished.
“The Harbinger has changed heading and made an unscheduled alteredspace jump. Moments ago Imperial Military warships opened fire on the apparently rogue vessel—carrying the condemned prisoner Asari Raidan. But the efforts of the Prax
is Squadron did not contain the fleeing ship. The ISS Harbinger’s current whereabouts and destination are not yet known. No comment from the Fifth Fleet yet.”
The screen went blank and was replaced by the image of a military officer at a desk. He wore a standard blue-and-black uniform and on his lapel was the amethyst insignia for second commodore. “This is Second Commodore Miguel Shenkov, commander of Praxis Station,” he said.
Calvin looked up to see the message displaying on all screens in the bar and was probably being broadcast throughout the entire station.
“Everyone on board is ordered to go directly to their quarters and remain there until further notice. I promise you, you’ll know more when I know more. But for now, this station depends on your complete and orderly cooperation to ensure everyone’s safety. All active crew will report to their stations and local commanders. This is an order.”
The message repeated over and over, drowning out the nervous chatter and panic.
“What do we do?” asked Shen, looking at Calvin with earnest eyes.
“Do as he says. Go to your quarters. And you’ll know more when he knows more.”
“Just like that?” Sarah asked.
“Just like that.” Calvin nodded. Until he was given orders otherwise, or activated by Intel Wing, he and his crew were on shore leave and fell under the jurisdiction of the local authorities. “However, you might want to hold off on unpacking your bags. I’m willing to bet every warship within two sectors will be activated within the hour.”
The door burst open, and marines filed in, ordering everyone to systematically evacuate the club. Calvin lined up with the others and headed for his room. Already trying to decide whether Raidan had somehow been behind the attack or if it was a setup meant to appear that way.
The Phoenix Conspiracy Page 7
