Chapter 22
Monte Blair couldn’t sleep after Summers had stormed into the infirmary and demanded to speak with him. The audacity of that woman to demand that Blair declare Calvin unfit for command; it was … unthinkable. Calvin was a good friend of many years. And Monte didn’t make it his business to judge what Calvin did with the ship and crew.
Having the XO make demands of Monte helped nothing. He had enough on his mind as it was. Trouble with the Khans. And, as Monte lay still, he wondered whether the new cartel leadership would kill him. Or if his lung condition—which was worse than he let on—would do him in first.
He wasn’t as much in the drug-dealing game as he used to be. He only had two people under him now, and they were stealing from him; he knew it but could do nothing about it. He was an old man with a cane, on the other side of the galaxy. Hardly intimidating.
For the millionth time he thought back on his glory days and wished he hadn’t taken as many hits over the years. He’d turned to drugs initially to latch onto something that could offer him peace of mind, something that could keep him going when the world felt too heavy. And, for a long time, the drugs had worked—or seemed to. But then, as if overnight, everything came apart. His life, his mind, his body … He wasn’t sure exactly when he realized the drugs were hurting him permanently, but it had been too late.
The chronic pain. The dizziness. The vomiting. Before he knew it, he was coughing up blood and who-knows-what-else. One morning he couldn’t even see for twelve hours. But when his sight returned, he was back on the stuff, searching for something to cope with the loss of his friends, family, and wealth.
His marriage had suffered the most, short-lived as it had been before crumbling apart. Poor Bonnie … if only I could have actually been someone, like I promised. Instead of the trash I became.
It wasn’t as bad when he’d finally stopped using and began dealing. That paid off his original debts and allowed him to get away from the planet that had once been home—where all his painful memories were. He left them there, as far away as possible.
But when he had trouble sleeping, like when people barged into his room on the warpath, it left him startled and miserable. Picking at his brain for anything and everything. Decades of fears, mistakes, and pain. It was pure agony. He only kept himself going now because he believed he was finally contributing to the universe. Here, on this starship, he could put his knowledge to use and actually help people. It would never undo a lifetime of regrets, but it helped him ignore them. And if he could end his life on a high note, all the better.
Then suddenly, like a recurring nightmare, Summers was back again. Banging on the door because Blair had disconnected his comm. When he opened it, she invited herself right in, waving a folder of documents, a picture, and a pill sample. She wore a smile big enough that he expected her to say she’d won the lotto.
Unfortunately it was much worse.
“You say ‘bring me evidence.’ Well, here it is, Dr. Blair!” She handed him the folder.
He opened it and browsed through a standard report from the science lab. There wasn’t much to it. Basically they’d proven that a sample of drugs found in Calvin’s quarters was Xinocodone—or equarius—which was a controlled substance. Monte would have liked nothing more than to claim he’d prescribed it to Calvin, but she’d found far more pills in Calvin’s inventory than Monte was allowed to prescribe. Apparently Calvin had taken to stockpiling it. The implication that followed was simple. Calvin had to be removed from command.
Monte cursed inside and wondered how Calvin could have been stupid enough to let Summers, of all people, find equarius in his room. The next logical question from Summers would be, how did Calvin get the equarius? And before long, Monte knew, all fingers would be pointing at him.
“I expect your formal declaration that Cross is unfit for command right away,” said Summers.
She seemed too arrogant. And he hated that she was right. That he really had no choice. Not if he valued his career anyway. But somehow the thought of Calvin being dragged off to some jail, and this witch in front of him, this beautiful nasty witch, sailing away with Calvin’s ship … it was just too damn wrong.
“No,” he said simply.
She looked genuinely shocked. “What did you say?”
“I said no. I won’t do it.”
“But you have no choice.” Summers took back the folder and flipped it open, again showing him her evidence. “Here’s the proof. I know Calvin is your friend, but you have a duty to do.”
“I am not convinced that the equarius you found was actually in Calvin’s room, despite the picture,” he said, folding his arms.
“It’s still there if you want to see for yourself,” she snapped.
“You could’ve put it there,” he said. “You had a motive, after all, to get Calvin removed from command. Don’t think I’ve forgotten your visit. You woke me the hell up … twice!”
Her eyes narrowed, and he could see rage inside them as she shook her head slowly. “Unacceptable …” She stormed out, folder in hand.
He watched her go, knowing he could delay her, but there was ultimately nothing he could do to stop her.
The Phoenix Conspiracy Page 44
