The Phoenix Conspiracy

by Richard Sanders

  ***

  Summers sat at the command position of the Nighthawk’s bridge. White Shift had begun twenty minutes ago, and everyone was present, except for Calvin. When he didn’t show right away, she had Sarah contact his quarters. She said, at first he didn’t reply; but, when he finally did, he sounded groggy, snappy, and short. He had insisted he was on his way, so Sarah had left him alone. That was ten minutes ago.

  Now Summers sat in quiet anticipation as they closed in on Iota System; at last estimate they were only a few minutes out. Curiously, for all eleven hours of their journey, they hadn’t heard much from Iota System. Red Shift had contacted the station a while ago, warning the crew of the Harbinger’s approach, and they’d confirmed they were deploying defenses and would be on standby. And then … what? Almost nothing. They’d checked in at scheduled times, telling the Nighthawk their status was unchanged. But now, as the Nighthawk tried to contact them again, no reply came. Just silence. If the station had been attacked, the personnel hadn’t sent out an alert of any kind. Very unusual, unless the Harbinger didn’t go there after all.… She pursed her lips.

  At long last the door whisked open, and Calvin walked onto the bridge. He looked horrible. Messy tangled hair, wrinkled clothes that probably hadn’t been changed since the day before, and eyes that were so bloodshot they almost glowed. As he approached, his movements were sluggish, and he seemed unawake.

  Summers had seen people act this way before, and wondered if Calvin was just tired or if he was actually hungover. She suspected the latter.

  When Calvin approached, Summers relinquished the command position, and Calvin collapsed in the chair with a huge sigh. He rubbed his temples for a few seconds before closing his eyes and resting his head in his hands.

  “Why is everyone being so loud?” asked Calvin to no one in particular.

  All of them looked confused since no one was making noise, other than the quiet keystrokes and computer sounds of normal operations.

  “Look at the sorry state of you,” said Summers. “You’re in no condition to command the ship.”

  “Oh, put a sock in it,” he snapped.

  She felt her anger boil. And then she couldn’t contain herself; commanding officer or not, this was intolerable! “You’re hungover, aren’t you? Probably drank all night, didn’t you? Well, that’s no way for an officer to behave.”

  He glared at her. “I don’t drink.” Then he rested his head in his hands once more.

  “You all right, mate?” asked Miles.

  Calvin didn’t answer; instead he asked another question. “What is our status, Sarah?”

  “Point oh seven two kliks from Iota and closing in. ETA, five minutes.”

  “Alert status?”

  “Condition Two, all systems standing by,” said Shen.

  Summers looked back at Calvin who still had his eyes closed and head resting in his palms.

  “That’s good,” he said slowly. “Any word from the system?”

  “None, sir,” said Sarah.

  “Contact them, give them our position, and ask their status.”

  “Can do.” Sarah spoke into her headset and typed something on her computer’s keyboard. A few seconds later she turned back around. “No response.”

  Calvin finally lifted his head and opened his eyes. “What?” he muttered. Then, more loudly, added, “What about the colony?”

  “Again, no response.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” said Calvin.

  “We’ve been unable to contact them for some time,” said Summers.

  Calvin didn’t say anything.

  And, seeing his acutely slow state, she offered a suggestion. “We could contact the fleet and see if they’ve heard anything.”

  Calvin nodded and waved his hand. “Good idea. Do that.”

  As they waited for Sarah to execute the order, Summers stared out the window into the blackness of space. Anything to keep her eyes off their sorry excuse for a CO. Being tardy and out of uniform was one thing, which Calvin had made into habits, but showing up unfit for command—because of drinking or drugging—was something else entirely. She would report this, if his dilapidated state didn’t get them all killed first.

  “The fleet hasn’t been able to contact the system either. Last check-in was an hour ago. Everything was fine then. Ships on patrol, defenses powered up, and no sign of the Harbinger.”

  “No sign of the Harbinger, you say.” Calvin’s voice was just above a whisper. “They should have been here hours ago.”

  Summers too found it strange. Raidan wasn’t the type to be intimidated away. Perhaps he’d changed course.

  Sarah continued speaking. “Two warships are en route to investigate and, if necessary, reinforce Iota. ISS Razor and ISS Falcon, heavy cruisers, about an hour behind us.”

  “So we get the privilege of arriving first,” said Calvin; he had put a small pause between each word. “ETA now?”

  “Sixty seconds.”

  “Wonderful.” Calvin turned his chair. “Miles, standby all weapons and shields.”

  “What about the stealth system?” asked Summers. In her mind it would be completely logical to survey the scene before announcing their arrival. If there had been a battle, there could still be hostiles. Stealth would allow them to maneuver before striking.

  Calvin scratched his head. “Not a bad idea. But I really doubt the station and all its defenses could have been wiped out by anything less than … ten battleships. Hmm … well, come to think of it, go ahead and engage the stealth system.”

  “Too late,” said Sarah. “We’re incoming in five, four, three, two …”

  All eyes turned to the windows.

  “One.”

  The view filled with stars and a blue sun. “Do a quick scan of the system, and give us a view of the station. If it’s still there.”

  “It is, and so is … oh, my god! It’s here.”

  Summers moved briskly to stare over Sarah’s shoulder at her screen.

  “What is?” asked Shen.

  “The Harbinger!” Sarah spun to face Calvin, awaiting orders.

  “I can confirm that,” said Miles from the defense post. “It’s about 650,000 MCs from the station. It’s exchanging fire with the station and three corvettes, five sentry ships, and about two fighter divisions.”

  “Project it,” said Calvin.

  A 3-D model of the Harbinger was displayed, complete with a few burn marks on its hull. Overall, though, it looked intact. Every now and then there was a blink of light as its guns intercepted missiles aimed toward it. All around the Harbinger flew tiny blips of starfighters in circles, like a swarm of infinitesimal bees attacking a tiger. They were hard to see at this resolution.

  Summers couldn’t believe it; Raidan was finally within their grasp. She’d almost given up hope. But now she had him, and justice could be served.

  “Bring us closer, but keep us out of close firing range. I don’t want to take any flak,” said Calvin.

  “Yes, sir.”

  The Nighthawk maneuvered closer, and, before long, the green-and-white planet became visible. As they moved starboard, it eclipsed the sun. The flashes of energy and gunfire were visible now to the naked eye through the windows, and seeing the Harbinger dwarf the corvettes made it appear like a huge menacing gray skeleton.

  “Damn, that’s a big ship,” said Miles.

  “Try to contact the station again,” said Calvin. “See if we can’t get through with close-range radio.”

  “Again no response,” said Sarah. “The Harbinger is emitting some kind of communications scrambler. I’ve never seen any before that could block out a radius this large, but that’s why our messages couldn’t get through. Whatever it is, that instrument most definitely did not come standard on the Harbinger.”

  Summers had heard of such technology while at the academy, as part of a general course she’d been required to take. That was only eight years ago, but back then the device had been purely theoretic
al. “It would seem Raidan has found himself some powerful allies.”

  “I’m picking up something else, Calvin,” said Miles. “Debris patterns. Looks like the remains of two or three ships. Rotham markings, probably commercial class. I’m guessing freighters.”

  “Can we ID them?” asked Calvin.

  “Maybe, depends how intact the identifiers are, and whether or not they have black-beacons still functioning.”

  “Most Rotham ships don’t even have black-beacons,” said Shen.

  “And there’s something else,” Miles added. “Another ship on the far side, about nine hundred thousand MCs from the station. It’s a Rotham class C freighter and … it’s just sitting there. Hull is crippled, engines destroyed, but they still have power. Her operating lights are on, but she’s not going anywhere. Weapons, shields, and engines are all off-line.”

  “The Harbinger is moving,” Sarah reported. “New heading, 1-1-7 mark 5. Eighty degrees pitch, fifteen yaw, port side.”

  “And now Raidan sweeps in for the kill,” said Summers. “And the Rotham genocide continues.”

  “No, it’s heading away from the vessel. It’s … facing us now and accelerating. Corvettes and fighters still nipping at its heels but not doing much damage.”

  “Uh-oh, looks like we got noticed,” said Miles. “All weapons standing by. What should we do?”

  Calvin just stared at him.

  “Sir?”

  They waited.

  “One point two million MCs and closing,” said Sarah.

  She looked nervous. They all did. Summers knew she had to do something. So she took charge. Raidan wasn’t about to get away again because of Calvin’s idiocy. “Target their engines,” said Summers, moving to get a view of the defense console. “Standby all missiles and close in with 90 percent thrusters. We only get one shot at this—let’s do it right.”

  “Belay that order!” said Calvin.

  “What?” asked Summers. Raidan was not going to get away! “We have orders from the fleet admiral! Shoot on sight. We must comply.”

  “That’s suicide,” said Calvin. “All stop.”

  Her frustration boiled inside her. Raidan was going to get away again and kill who-knows-how-many-more people, and all because of this … boy. Less her age and less her rank, and there was nothing she could do about it. She broke protocol and challenged her CO. “The Harbinger is wounded. This is our best opportunity to end this.”

  “I said no.”

  Did Calvin even want Raidan brought to justice? “But the admiral said—”

  He cut her off. “On my ship, I am the admiral.”

  The sleeping bear had awoken, and ferocity burned in his voice and shone in his bloodshot eyes.

  “Do not question my authority again.”

  Summers was speechless. How dare he speak to her like that?

  “Status?” Calvin asked Sarah.

  “The Harbinger is inbound, holding speed, a hundred thousand MCs away. Cleared for action and within missile range.”

  “What are your orders?” asked Miles. He looked antsy, like a psychomaniacal killer with his finger curled around the trigger, squeezing ever-so-slightly.

  “Do nothing,” said Calvin. “Alert, Condition One, shields full strength forward. Standby, helm. We may need to do some hard maneuvers.”

  “Aye, sir,” his crew complied, sounding slightly confused.

  “The Harbinger hasn’t fired on us yet,” said Calvin. “So I don’t want to fire on it until I know what it’s up to.”

  “Closing in at forty thousand MCs. We’re in range of all weapons.”

  They waited in tense silence as the behemoth slowly filled their view. It really was a sight to behold. A hulking metal beast with ferocity in every contour; being this close to it was like kissing jaws of steel. Even its wounds and burn marks—few that they were—served only to intimidate by giving it scars.

  “I really think we should do something,” said Miles.

  “Like what, Lieutenant?” asked Summers, hoping she could get the crew to pressure Calvin into action.

  “Getting the hell out of here for starters.”

  “Patience,” said Calvin.

  He looked confident. Summers only wondered what was going on in his mind, if anything.

  “The communications scrambler has been shut down,” said Sarah. “Incoming message from the Harbinger.”

  “Display it.”

  “It’s audio only.”

  “Go ahead.”

  The message came over the speakers loud and clear.

  “Board the ship, Calvin.”

  It terminated.

  Summers recognized the voice; it was Raidan’s. Hearing it sent a flutter of mixed emotions through her. There was a time when that rich, deep voice made her smile. Now, though, it made her all the more determined to take him down.

  “Try to contact them,” said Calvin. He looked more curious than anything else.

  “No response,” said Sarah. “The Harbinger is upon us.”

  They could only see a small portion of the ship through their window as it slipped past them on the port side. It must have been several MCs away, but it felt like only meters. Summers felt a momentary chill and all of them stared in awe, silently shaken by the whole experience.

  When the ship disappeared, Sarah spoke again. “The Harbinger is accelerating and has set course for alteredspace. Clear to jump in fifteen, fourteen …” She counted down, until finally she said, “The Harbinger has left the system.”

  And, just like that, Raidan had slipped through the fleet’s grasp and Summers’s fingers once again. She let out an enormously frustrated sigh. “I hope you’re happy, Lieutenant Commander,” she said.

  “Board the ship …” Calvin mumbled, ignoring her. “I wonder why he wants me to do that?”

  And of course Calvin seemed to actually be considering it! “Well, regardless of whatever perverse idea Raidan has, we cannot board that ship. That would be an act of war.”

  Calvin nodded.

  She almost couldn’t believe it. Was he agreeing with her?

  “I know we can’t board it,” he said. “The Rotham-Imperial Peace Accord is fragile as it is. But we should still ask ourselves what we might find there.” His eyes brightened a little. “Sarah, contact the crippled Rotham ship and offer our assistance with repairs, medical needs, and whatever else they may require.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  So Calvin was going to try and worm his way onto that ship anyway. Summers rolled her eyes. Typical. Always ready to chase after whatever dead-end Raidan threw out to distract them. But at least this strategy was lawful.

  “Response from the freighter,” said Sarah. “They respectfully decline.”

  “What? Really?” asked Shen. “They just want to sit there?”

  “Apparently they have their own ship on the way to assist, and they’d rather their cargo and personnel be handled by other Rotham,” Summers said.

  “I’m not surprised,” said Calvin. “They don’t want us to find whatever they’re carrying. That’s why Raidan wanted us to board the ship.”

  “How far out is their assisting ship?”

  “Four hours.”

  “So they’re just going to sit on their asses for four hours?” asked Miles. “Unbelievable.”

  “Four hours isn’t a huge price to pay,” said Calvin. “If their cargo is, say … biological weapons.”

  “That’s a pretty serious accusation,” said Summers. “More likely the Rotham trust for the Imperial Military is degenerating with each successive attack by Raidan.” She didn’t blame them.

  “I’m not making any specific accusations,” said Calvin. “But I give it one-hundred-to-one on they have something they don’t want us to see.”

  Summers frowned. Maybe they did; she knew she couldn’t rule that out entirely. But provoking them wouldn’t help anything. What mattered most now was putting an end to Raidan’s crime spree, fixing international relations, and
getting the fleet back to its usual pristine operating self. Calvin’s obsession with unsettling everything would only make a bad situation worse.

  “Contact the station and bring us within fifty thousand MCs of their operating range. Let’s find out exactly what happened.”

  “You got it.” Sarah again spoke into her headset, and Summers’s gaze met Calvin’s.

  Meeting his sharp eyes, which weren’t as bloodshot as before, made her defensive—like he was challenging her. He didn’t say anything, but she couldn’t shake away the impression that he wanted to. She blinked and looked away.

  “Connected to the station’s deputy administrator, General Hesso.”

  General? Must be a marine base.

  “General Hesso here. Welcome to Iota, IWS Nighthawk. I’m afraid I’ll have to make this brief, but, as you can see, we have a lot of cleaning up to do.”

  “I understand, sir,” said Calvin. “I just want to know the details of the engagement.”

  “You should direct those questions to Captain Anderson. She was in charge of our field response and led the counteraction. She has more information than I do about the Harbinger’s attack.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Her starfighter is still deployed.”

  “Can you have her dock with my ship and come aboard?”

  “Affirmative, I’ll give her the order. Now, is there anything else?”

  “Yes, one thing,” said Calvin. “Did anyone from the Harbinger, at any point, go aboard your station or to the colony below?”

  “No. They arrived, blocked communications, engaged our ships, attacked the Rotham freighters, disabled one and destroyed two. Then you showed up, and the Harbinger withdrew.”

  “Can you give us the identities of those Rotham ships and any information you have on them? It would be very helpful to our investigation.”

  “I’ll send you what I can, but it isn’t a lot. For some reason, someone above me has thoroughly classified everything. I can’t make heads or tails of it. But I can at least get you the names of those ships.”

  “What about their cargo?”

  “I’ll do what I can,” the general said with a smile. He didn’t look hopeful.

  “Thanks,” said Calvin. The transmission ended.

  “That was short and sweet,” said Sarah.

  Calvin nodded. “Begin a standard survey pattern. See what we can find. Especially comb that debris well. When Captain Anderson comes aboard, send her to my office. Summers, you have the deck.”

  Summers wasn’t surprised by this. Calvin avoided being on the bridge like it was a disease.