***
“I keep telling you that a fight won’t work, Miles,” said Sarah.
Calvin glanced from her to Miles since no one else was talking.
“It’s either that or we sit here doing nothing. If that happens, we lose by default. We should at least try.”
“Can you make him listen to reason?” Sarah asked, looking at Calvin now.
“Don’t look at me,” said Calvin, raising his hands.
“But we do need an executive call on this,” said Shen. “We need you to make a decision.”
Calvin knew that was true, but a no-win scenario sat before them. He was content to wait a bit more, hoping to find some way to dull either the rock or the hard place.
The trouble was Special Forces’ position offered no obvious weaknesses for him to exploit. He had the loyalty of most of the crew, he thought. And, if he could rally them, he had superior numbers. But whether or not they’d be willing to put it all on the line for him was another question. They did like him better than Summers. And several of them, most likely, did believe they were under orders to assist him. But they might not be convinced of it enough to fight hand-to-hand, especially against a superior adversary like Special Forces.
“You’re both right,” said Calvin. “Unless the situation changes somehow, a fight is unacceptable. But, if we don’t fight, we might have no other choice than to surrender. Which is also unacceptable. Our job, then, is to change the playing board so a fight is practical.”
“And how would we do that?” asked Shen.
“Deceive, cheat, lie, make our position look better than it is.” Before Calvin could pitch any of his zero ideas, the vents turned back on and began sending air to the bridge again.
“Now, what do you suppose that’s about?” asked Shen.
“I don’t know, but I don’t like it,” said Calvin as he saw white smoke pouring onto the bridge.
Shen looked at him. “You don’t think …”
Miles, who was closest to the gas, began coughing violently and let out a wail, red eyes streaked with tears. “Son of a …” His words were lost as he coughed again.
The smoke spread quickly, and Calvin felt a surge of pain in his nose, mouth, and throat, as his eyes watered. He too began coughing and wheezing, and all of them, instinctively, retreated away from the main vents.
“Tear gas,” said Shen, spitting up mucous.
Sarah kept herself together the best, but her eyes were brimming with tears, and she was too busy sneezing and coughing to do anything else.
The burning sensation was overwhelming. Calvin felt like the insides of his nose and throat were literally on fire; his eyes watered and burned. He waved toward the exits. “We can’t”—more coughing—”can’t … stay.”
Shen nodded.
Miles rubbed at his eyes and cursed.
“You … go down … the … ladder,” said Calvin, wiping his eyes and clearing his throat—or trying to. Shen and Sarah were closest to that exit and, Calvin was sure, one of them would know how to unseal the hatch and retract the defense wall manually.
They followed his orders and went into the corridor where the ladder was.
Calvin waved for Miles to follow him, and they entered the elevator, unwilling to cross through the noxious gas to get to the ladder. And Calvin hoped that if they split up, maybe some of them wouldn’t be caught.
Once inside, with the door sealed, they could breathe a little easier, but that didn’t stop them from coughing, wheezing violently, and tearing up. Miles reenabled the elevator and sent it below—to a much lower deck. Hoping they could shoot past whatever security Special Forces had waiting for them.
But, now that the elevator wasn’t disabled, the main control overrode their order, and the elevator came to a forced stop one deck below the bridge. The door slid open, and Calvin caught sight of Summers and four soldiers, including Captain Pellew.
Shen and Sarah were there too, already in restraints. A look of defeat on their faces. Seeing them only made Calvin more desperate.
“Hands on your heads,” Pellew ordered. He and the others brandished stun weapons; only Summers was unarmed.
Calvin did as he was told and marched out of the elevator, his hands on his head. They took his wrists and cuffed them behind his back. For a moment, he was worried Miles might try to resist and get hurt, but even he knew they couldn’t win this fight. Despite all the big talk, Calvin knew Miles wasn’t actually stupid.
“Confine them to quarters,” said Summers. Then she gave Calvin a very disapproving shake of her head. “Why did you make me do this?”
Calvin didn’t reply except to look away. This must have upset her because, for whatever reason, she felt the need to whisper, “Checkmate,” under her breath as he passed.
“You’re all a bunch of cowardly mangy dogs,” Miles bellowed, as they shoved him along. He stuck out his tongue at Summers when he passed.
“Double the guard on that one,” Summers snapped.
She seemed to enjoy seeing Miles reduced to this.
Very well, Commander, Calvin thought. You win this round. But the game isn’t over …
The Phoenix Conspiracy Page 59
