***
After apprising Summers of the situation belowdecks, Calvin released the very tired active crew from their extended shift. Once the replacement officers took their stations, and his second officer took the command position—with strict orders to inform Calvin if even the slightest thing happened—Calvin left. Moving with a pack of officers to the lower decks, fully armed, traveling in a group—like he’d ordered. They dropped off one person at a time as his or her quarters were reached.
Summers had wanted to stay on the bridge, but Calvin insisted she get some rest. She only agreed on the condition that Calvin get some rest as well. He doubted he’d be able to sleep but preferred to relax in privacy. And he knew, if he let his stress overwhelm him, it would impair his judgment.
They reached his quarters on deck five, and he took his leave and locked his door. He wasn’t sure if the triple seal would stop a werewolf, since he’d never encountered one before, but it would at least slow one down. He didn’t undress except to remove his shoes. Then he climbed onto his bed and stared at the ceiling, taking in slow, deep breaths.
“Lights off,” he said, and they turned off. Everything was quiet, except for the slight breeze coming through the air vent. Calm and peaceful. He shut his eyes, trying to close his mind to the many questions spinning inside him like a raging storm. But to no avail. He had too few answers, and his mind was what it was: compelled to chew away at every puzzle and mystery until it was solved. And there were far too many.
Raidan’s choice to attack the Rotham freighters—sacrificing everything for the “good of the Empire”; the weird message Calvin had received on Praxis before the trial; the Harbinger’s disappearance; the fleet’s unwillingness to cooperate with Intel Wing; Princess Kalila’s strange visit and behavior; a randomly exploding star right in his flight path—one that had otherwise seemed healthy; and now he had an insane werewolf running loose on his ship, doing god-knows-what, with no explanation for how he got loose; and an AWOL surveillance tape.
It was way too much to process now. He felt like he was thinking in slow motion. Groggy, blurry eyed, and light-headed.
He spent most of an hour eating away at these unsolvable riddles, jumping between them scatterbrained, frustrated to no end. Wondering how many of these puzzles linked together. And how many were just bad timing.
His job came with stress; he knew that, but somehow he felt worse than ever. He just couldn’t get his mind to calm down. In frustration he lurched to a sitting position.
“Dim lights,” he said and the room brightened a little.
As he thought about the lycan, the nightmarish images of the Trinity’s bloodstained walls came to mind automatically. More vivid than experiences from yesterday. And Christine … dear sweet Christine. His memories of her tortured him: her smile, her laugh, her hands playing gently with his, the joking, the tickle-fights … and those soft brown eyes—full of mischief and curiosity. He missed her. He missed her so much. And he hated himself for letting it all happen to her.
It wasn’t until she had died that he’d awoken to how merciless and unfair the universe truly was. Cold and cruel. Sparing no one. Christine had been the gentlest, kindest person he’d ever known. And what had fate dealt her?
The events leading up to the Trinity disaster flashed through his mind, and he saw his old friends and comrades come alive like ghosts hovering all around. If only they had known what was coming. If only he could have warned them … He wished he could go back and undo it all. He’d give anything …
Swimming upstream through his past, he was in college again. Anand, Miles, and other friends were together, meeting in their various apartments, talking about everything, anything, and nothing. Idealists with high expectations wondering about the uncertain future. The galaxy was their oyster, and nothing would keep them from their dreams. He smiled at the banter, the teasing, and the good times. Miles spiking Anand’s drinks. Anand getting back at him by putting soap in his cup. Calvin longed for those days again … cutting classes and chasing girls. Those were the golden days, when everything seemed possible. Before real life crushed them and stole their naivety. Calvin had made so many mistakes since then.… His eyes drifted to his safe where the equarius was kept. If only he could do it all over, he could do so much better, be so much more.
His thoughts took him through his bittersweet childhood growing up on Capital World without his father. Being called a bastard by the bullies. He remembered his first fight, when he had pushed the biggest bully into the lake without warning. He’d paid for that one with a black eye and bruises. But it had been worth it to see the other children laugh. And he remembered Sandy. His first girlfriend. How they used to make out in the tree house, hold hands while walking the lake’s edge, and talk about the future. He didn’t realize then how different they really were. She had dreamed of kids and family and making a difference. While all he had cared about was action, romance, and adventure. He didn’t think ahead like she had; he had just expected everything to work out in the end. When she left Capital World with her parents, she never came back; and he didn’t get over her for years. At least not completely. Not until he had met Christine.
Once, a long time ago, he’d used his intel privileges to look up Sandy, out of innocent curiosity, and discovered she was a planetary senator. Already established, making a difference, and successful. And she was married to a very prominent police inspector, and she had three children. She had known her dreams early, had worked for them, and now lived them. She’d fulfilled her own great expectations. Now that he knew about hers, Calvin couldn’t help but wonder about his own.
Had he achieved any of his dreams? He’d never figured out what his dreams were, really. And he still didn’t know. But it wasn’t this, was it? He looked down at his crumpled uniform he was still wearing.… Is this my legacy?… It felt incomplete. Everything was at his fingertips—money, status, power—things people spent their whole lives pursuing. But they’d come to him so easily that they meant almost nothing. He felt … empty. Hollow. Leaving him wondering, what’s next?
He gazed out the window at the vacant blackness, and he felt devoid. A lost soul in a desert of barren darkness. His beating heart a ticking time bomb, destined to stop eventually. And when it did … what was the point of anything? In time there’d be no one left to remember him.
Then he started laughing. “What’s the matter with me? I’ve got it great.” He tried to smile but ended up with a weak grin. “Okay, this is ridiculous …” He climbed out of bed and unlocked his safe. A part of him resented himself for opening the bottle of equarius again, but somehow that didn’t matter. It seemed like nothing mattered. And he knew the pill would make the aching go away, at least for a while; it would stop the flood of memories that tortured him. It was both his lover and his enemy, and he turned to it, dear sweet equarius.
The Phoenix Conspiracy Page 18
