The Phoenix Conspiracy

by Richard Sanders

  ***

  Raidan’s office was only slightly larger than Calvin’s and even more sparsely decorated.

  The blank walls and dull carpet were clean and like new, as were the basic amenities. Only Raidan’s desk screamed for attention. It was large and made of a beautifully lacquered cedar in the style of centuries long gone and seemed profoundly out of place—certainly not warship standard. On its surface were a bottle of whiskey and an old-fashioned notebook with pens; there was no computer.

  “Welcome to my home away from home,” said Raidan as he took a seat behind his desk.

  Calvin sat opposite.

  Tristan, who had followed them in, remained standing by the door, which he had closed and locked.

  Calvin wasn’t comfortable with him being here, especially directly behind him, but knew it would only weaken his position to complain.

  “Calvin,” said Raidan. “It is very important that you tell me everything about the battle before we arrived. I want to know exactly what happened. Which ships attacked which, in what order, what weapons were used. I want to know it all.”

  Calvin was reluctant to give up what was probably the only useful card he had. Instead he asked a question of his own. “What happened after your ships arrived?” He hoped to glean useful information about Raidan’s fleet and resources.

  “We took out as many Rotham ships as we could. But our priority was to disable the ship you were on and capture it. Because of that, about half the alien squadron escaped. I have no idea where they’re going to regroup.”

  “Did you take any losses?” asked Calvin.

  “No. Some casualties and some damage, of course. A few fighters. But no capital losses.”

  Raidan didn’t confirm how many ships he had. Calvin tried again. “You must have had quite a force to chase off the enemy squadron.”

  Raidan eyed him cautiously, his words slow. “There are four of us here. The Harbinger, the Mary Gale, the Aurora and the Liberty Sun.”

  “They must be powerful ships.”

  Raidan’s face betrayed no reaction. “I suppose.”

  “Where did they come from?”

  “Private owners.”

  Calvin raised an eyebrow. “Private owners?”

  “Yes.”

  “What about the Harbinger?”

  “You know where that ship came from.” Raidan cleared his throat. “Now tell me about the first part of the battle.”

  “My defense officer would be better than me at describing it. I will order him to answer all of your questions.” Calvin paused. “Right after you answer all of mine.” He doubted his scant information was a fair trade for Raidan’s. But it was worth a try.

  Raidan leaned back, tapping his fingers together. He was nearly double Calvin’s age but still had a childlike glow in his eyes. “I might not be able to answer all of your questions,” he said. “But I’ll do what I can.”

  Calvin did not know where to begin. Being able to interview the subject of his investigation was a rare opportunity but came with its own special considerations. For instance, the questions he asked would reveal what information he didn’t have and what he was most interested in.

  “Let’s start at the beginning,” said Calvin. “Why did you throw your life away to destroy a few commercial ships?”

  Raidan looked amused. “Why do you think I did it?”

  “I think you did it knowing your life was never really on the line. You knew you’d be set free,” Calvin guessed, eyeing Raidan keenly. “Did you do it for the Harbinger?”

  “Trade up, you mean?” Raidan leaned forward. “No. No. No. I preferred the Phoenix and still do. This is a beautiful ship, don’t get me wrong, but the Phoenix”—his gaze became forlorn—”the Phoenix was mine.”

  “So then, why?” asked Calvin. “I doubt you wanted to start a war.”

  “A war? No, a war’s the last thing our delicate Empire needs. My motives go far deeper than that. Can’t you see them?”

  Calvin wasn’t sure what to make of this game Raidan was playing. They both knew Calvin couldn’t know Raidan’s real motives unless he told Calvin. Why the charade? Maybe it’s a test. He wants to know if I’m an asset before telling me more.

  All Calvin could think to do was continue playing the game. “I believe you sacrificed everything because you wanted to kill those Rotham ships. Not because of who they were, but what they were carrying.”

  Raidan nodded. “That’s exactly right.”

  “So what were they carrying?” Calvin folded his arms. “What could possibly be worth giving up everything for?”

  “They had Class One cargo. A cargo worth dying for, if necessary.” Raidan paused. “When I made the choice to strike, I did not know if I was signing my own death sentence or not. Because I didn’t know if I could be rescued. I knew an effort would be made. I knew the plan, and I knew the players. But nothing is ever really certain in games like this. Generals die. Kingdoms fall. Governments collapse. And all without a sound. The tendrils of the enemy go very deep. And if you cannot see him, you cannot be certain you’ve beaten him.”

  Calvin considered that for a moment, a very interesting response. Though perhaps a bit overly poetic. It showed that Raidan, at least, saw his actions as heroic.

  “So what is Class One cargo?”

  “You know the old expression, seeing is believing?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, you’ll have trouble believing what I’m going to tell you unless I show you.” Raidan smiled mysteriously then ordered Tristan to “Bring in the special guest.”

  While they waited for Tristan’s return, Calvin speculated who this mysterious guest was and what link he or she had to the “Class One cargo.” Whatever it was.

  The door opened, and Calvin swiveled his chair to see two heavily armed soldiers step in, followed by Tristan, who was forcibly escorting a man in handcuffs.

  The prisoner’s face couldn’t be seen, since his head was bowed and his hair long, but he seemed middle-aged and rather thin. Hardly a match for an escort consisting of two stocky marines and an athletic werewolf.

  “Show your face, coward,” said Raidan.

  And Calvin watched the prisoner slowly raise his head and shake his hair out of his eyes to reveal Raidan’s face.

  Calvin did a double take. What!?Another Raidan? Aside from his longer hair and thinner physique, he looked in every way the same person. “A twin,” said Calvin.

  “I have no siblings.”

  And Calvin knew that was true from his investigation of Raidan—or at least that’s what had been recorded in all the databases referencing him.

  “Cosmetic surgery?” Calvin guessed.

  “We’ve ruled that out after thorough medical inspection.”

  “A clone?”

  “Not possible,” said Raidan. “First, because it would be too impractical, since they would’ve had to take my DNA near the time when I was born—accelerated aging isn’t the answer either, or else his age would only match mine for a brief window of time. Second, this imposter’s DNA does not match mine. In fact it’s so profoundly different that he shouldn’t look anything like me, and yet he does.”

  “Very strange,” said Calvin. Now wondering which Raidan was the real Raidan. “Perhaps he’s a very close look-alike,” said Calvin. But, even though it made the most sense, it didn’t seem right. This Raidan copy seemed too perfect. The sameness was incredible. Identical imperfections and blemishes in all the same places, regardless of how minute.

  “It’s not just a random look-alike,” said Raidan.

  The imprisoned Raidan spoke up. “Don’t believe him. I’m the real Raidan.” He was silenced by a rap on the head from Tristan.

  Calvin turned to face the original Raidan who was shaking his head.

  “How do I know he isn’t the real Raidan?” asked Calvin.

  “Had this one been ready and deployed before the Organization got its hands on him, it might be much harder to tell. But as it is, t
his one was never really ready to be me. He doesn’t know enough about me to actually replace me.”

  “Organization?”

  “It’s my amnesia!” the imprisoned Raidan said.

  The original Raidan laughed. “I know my life backward and forward. I lived it. He doesn’t have a clue. He doesn’t know anything beyond my name, rank, and place of birth. When I went to Antiva and fought in that nineteen-day action during the Great War, he has no memory of that. He doesn’t know what it was like.”

  “I do know. I do remember,” the imprisoned Raidan said.

  “I was never at Antiva,” the original Raidan said. His eyes met Calvin’s. “You see what I mean? He’s desperate to get out of confinement and complete his mission. He’ll say or do anything. But he isn’t me. Not even close. Surely you must have studied my background enough, over the course of your investigation, to get a sense of who I am. Ask us anything. I’m sure you’ll be satisfied.”

  Calvin had studied a lot, and it was true Raidan had never served a combat mission in Antiva. But what concerned Calvin was that his only facts, everything he knew about Raidan, came from what was officially on record and could have been modified to say anything. Not likely the case, but it was possible.

  So, just to be sure … “You”—he pointed to the imprisoned Raidan—”Name your primary crew on your last ship.” Calvin was certain the real Raidan would know his own crew, and, though the question was basic enough both might know the answer, he figured it was a good starting point.

  “I don’t remember. You have to believe me!” the imprisoned Raidan said. “It was a head injury. I don’t remember anything!”

  If only I had a Q for every time I’ve heard a prisoner plea amnesia …

  Calvin turned to the original Raidan who still sat smugly behind his desk.

  “My XO was Summers Presley. Impeccable posture, exquisite hair, and a captivating smile—which she rarely shows. Intelligent, competent, all-business, and completely dependable. My helmsman was Joshua Van Davin, dark hair, boyish smile, mid-thirties. Has a scar on his head from a childhood surgery—”

  Calvin cut him off. “I’ve heard enough. I’m convinced.” And he was convinced. There was still a small part of him that wondered if he was wrong, and there probably always would be, but, given the circumstances, only a fool would see it the other way. There was a fine line between being a good investigator and a suspicious moron. Like so many people kept reminding him, sometimes a cigar really is just a cigar.

  “You three may take him away,” said Raidan, waving off Tristan and the others. They complied, and left Calvin and Raidan alone once more.

  “If I hadn’t seen it for myself, I wouldn’t believe it.”

  Raidan nodded. “I told you so. Impressive, isn’t it? However they did it. Wherever they found him. However they built him. Whatever they did, they got their hands on a very convincing-looking version of me. And if the imposter had had more time, and had studied my life and habits in enormous detail, they just may have passed him off as the real me. And replaced me altogether. And then they’d have the Phoenix, one more warship in their pocket, and no one would be the wiser.”

  “So who could do this?” asked Calvin. Almost anyone could have motive to take control of a ship. But means was another story. Coming up with an authentic-looking Raidan and aiming to switch them—that implied serious resources.

  “Someone powerful,” said Raidan. “Someone who has to be stopped.”

  “And that’s where you come in? You’re the one stopping it, him, her, whatever?”

  “A duplicate person, like the one you just saw, is Class One cargo. We call them replicants. The Organization doesn’t know where they come from or how many there are or who’s controlling them exactly, just that they are slowly surfacing. And we’ve caught a few.”

  “I see,” said Calvin, putting the pieces together as best he could. “You stopped being the dutiful Imperial captain the minute you came face-to-face with this other you. And that was proof enough for you to join some kind of fight against them.”

  Raidan’s eyes lit up, but his words remained calm. “I still am a dutiful Imperial captain. I never stopped being that. The decision I made to destroy those Rotham ships and steal the Harbinger was for the good of the Empire. If I hadn’t, then several people would now be replaced. Hauled off to some prison, executed maybe, tortured, god-knows-what, and without hope, because no one would even notice. Because some imposters would’ve taken over their lives.”

  “Who would have been replaced?”

  “Important people.”

  “Give me names, Raidan.”

  “I don’t know their names,” he said. “I just know what was on those ships, and where it was headed. Class One cargo headed for Capital World. That is what the Organization told me. And that is why I acted. Someone had to. And I was the only one who could.”

  “And you gave up everything to make that one move?”

  “If that’s what it took,” said Raidan, “I was ready to die for it. But as it turned out, I’m still valuable. Maybe more than ever.”

  “Indeed,” said Calvin, still wondering how Raidan acquired such a powerful ship. “So what is this Organization you’re working for?”

  “All you had to do was ask.” Raidan gave a wan smile. “The Organization is a network of patriots.”

  “What kind of network? And how many patriots?”

  Raidan smiled as if to say, wouldn’t you like to know? Then he spoke. “We’re connected well enough. We have people in every Imperial system, and people on a few others. A little bit of money. A few ships. Enough to know there’s a problem but maybe not enough to stop it.”

  “How did your order get founded?”

  Raidan shrugged. “There’s an answer of course. But I don’t have it.”

  “How old is this Organization?”

  “It’s hard to say.”

  Calvin knew that Raidan wouldn’t go into specific details if he didn’t want to. And, when dealing with his kind, pressuring him for more answers would only result in fewer. Calvin remained patient.

  “I was recruited into the Organization a while back. Years ago. But I wasn’t an easy convert. I didn’t believe them, you see, that there was a danger. That the Empire was no longer as perfect as I’d always assumed. I didn’t want to listen, but they were very … persuasive.”

  “They bought you?”

  Raidan frowned. “No, of course not. Not persuasive then. Convincing. They showed me proof. Just like I showed you proof a few minutes ago. It’s hard to keep thinking your world makes sense when you see your face on somebody else’s body.”

  “So it’s like I guessed. The Organization showed you the fake Raidan, and that is why you joined them?”

  “The fake Raidan was the moment when I knew I had to open my eyes. And, once I did, the signs were everywhere. Little things. But all of them wrong.”

  “Like what?”

  “Changes in behavior. Orders that didn’t quite make sense. Captains I’ve known for years developing small … eccentricities.”

  “You think they were replaced by replicants?” Calvin sat forward. “And you found out about the fake Raidan before it was too late, making the threat personal.”

  “Not so much personal,” Raidan clarified. “Yes, I’m going to protect myself. And that means siding with the Organization. But, much more important, I’m going to protect the Empire. If someone is powerful enough to find or … construct these things and use them to take over our navy ships, invisibly, then what does that say about our future?”

  “So if they showed you the replicant-you years ago, why is he on this ship now?”

  “As a chilling reminder of why I do what I do.”

  Calvin didn’t bother to ask how the fake Raidan got aboard the Harbinger specifically. Raidan could have easily picked up his replicant at any point since Raidan had seized the Harbinger. Instead Calvin asked a different question. “How did you know the fake Raidan was
n’t the only replicant?”

  “I’ve seen others since.”

  “And how do you know, now, that the Organization isn’t the one who produced the fake Raidan, in order to win you over?”

  “I didn’t know that then, but I do now. The Organization exists to protect the Empire. Trust me.”

  “From replicants? How long has this been going on?”

  “No, not just from replicants. That’s a recent move. They started replacing people about five years ago. The captains and officers in the Fifth Fleet were the easiest targets, being close to the DMZ. Far away from most major ports. Mostly they, we, were just tests. They had to be slow, careful, and see if the transition between real and fake persons would go unnoticed. It’s only recently that they’ve been targeting more important people. Like those ships headed for Capital World.”

  Calvin instantly thought of his strange visit with Kalila. Had she been replaced? Was this the threat she was hiding from? “More important people meaning nobility?”

  “Perhaps some of the nobility.”

  “What about the royal family?” Calvin pressed him.

  Raidan scratched his chin. “I doubt it. The Akiras keep themselves well protected. Perhaps eventually but, for now, I’m sure they are safe.”

  “So you’ve noticed no strange activity from them whatsoever?”

  Raidan hesitated. “No. Why are you that interested in this?”

  Calvin shrugged, not wanting to give himself away. “No reason. I just want to be sure the monarchy is still intact.”

  Raidan raised a curious eyebrow.

  Calvin changed the subject. “So how did your Organization discover the threat?”

  “I don’t have the answer to that. It’s an invisible war that’s been going on for a long time. Decades. Their side slowly building up, readying their plans, and us trying to keep an eye on them and unraveling their plans before it’s too late. This fight has taken many forms.”

  “So who is the enemy?”

  “They call themselves the Phoenix Ring. No, not a reference to my old ship. They mean the creature of legend. The firebird that dies and resurrects periodically. We think it’s a metaphor for the Empire. They want to destroy it and recreate it. And since our human Empire is the premiere powerhouse of the galaxy, they depend on deception to conquer us.”

  “Who are they?”

  “We don’t know the ringleaders yet. They’re called the Council. They act through seconds and thirds, like many of our political noblemen on Capital World, except in this case anonymously. The entire Council may meet at times for dire emergencies, but we’ve never gotten close enough to confirm that.”

  “So what do you know?” asked Calvin. “Are they Rotham? Human? Polarian?”

  Raidan looked surprised. “Why would you guess Polarians?”

  “Well … we saw a Polarian ship at Abia.”

  Raidan’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “Very interesting …” He paused. “To answer your question, we know that humans and Rotham are both involved. As for who is giving orders to whom, no one can be sure.” He leaned back and rested his head against his chair, tapping his fingers thoughtfully upon the armrest. Obviously unhappy.

  “It’s because we’re going to Gemini, isn’t it?” asked Calvin.

  “What?”

  “Why this upsets you. It’s because we’re going into Polarian space. And now you don’t know if you can trust them.”

  “Yes, that is troubling me. But don’t read too much into it. Gemini is a safe place.”

  “Why are we going there?”

  “It’s a safe spot for my group. A kind of a haven for the Organization. It’s handy to have a few outside the jurisdiction of the Empire.”

  “But now it might not be such a safe spot.”

  “No, it’s safe,” said Raidan.

  “So tell me more about Gemini. What can I expect to find when we get there?” asked Calvin.

  Raidan said nothing.

  “Let me guess. This trip, and all your hints and clues you have left for me, it’s all an effort to recruit me into the Organization, isn’t it? But it wants me to commit to it before I get to really know anything about it. Isn’t that how all these secret groups work?”

  Raidan leaned forward once more, looking a little less tense. “No. Recruiting you was my idea. There have been … mixed feelings over the matter. There is no formal invitation being extended to you. I’m just hoping we can … make some kind of arrangement.”

  “What kind?”

  “That depends on what happens when we get there.” He smiled. “Don’t worry. I won’t compel you to do anything. You’re not my prisoner. Make your own choice. Just remember that nowhere is safe for you. They’re going to come after you. They’ll hunt you from Eurosis to Polaris, Capital World to The Corridor. Cooperating with me is your best chance of survival.”

  Calvin thought that was probably true. He didn’t want to die and needed a safe port for the Nighthawk to take supplies. His best path, he guessed, was to infiltrate the Organization and, from that vantage point, decide whether they were right and worth joining, or if he should betray them to the Empire, perhaps regaining favor.

  “Who’s in charge of the Organization?”

  “It’s split into groups with group leaders who all report to one person. That person and the group leaders share power and cooperate.”

  “Who is that person?”

  “She’s called White Rook.”

  “So this person is a female then?”

  “Yes,” said Raidan. “But that’s hardly a helpful clue.”

  “Any clue that can rule out half the population of the galaxy is a helpful clue.”

  “Good luck guessing her identity among the other half.”

  “So you won’t identify her for me.”

  “I will not.”

  “But you know who she is.”

  “Yes.”

  “Have you ever spoken with her face-to-face?”

  “Yes.”

  Calvin sat forward. “You’re a group leader aren’t you?”

  “Yes. After the last group leader and his ship, the Arcane Storm, disappeared, I took his place.”

  “How large is a group?”

  “Some financial contacts, a few ships, some intelligence agents and analysts, a couple of safe havens. That’s about it.”

  Calvin got the feeling Raidan wasn’t telling him everything. “Some, as defined as how many?”

  “A number between one and infinitely many.” Raidan shrugged.

  Calvin changed the subject, thinking this could help him estimate the Organization’s reach. “How did you find out replicants were on those Rotham ships? The first ones you attacked, the Beotan convoy?”

  “Insider information,” said Raidan. “Though now that particular contact has vanished, presumed dead. But I did the best I could with what she gave me.”

  “But you didn’t succeed in taking out the whole convoy.”

  “Yes.” He sighed. “One ship got away. Maybe I took out all the replicants by destroying the other ships. Or maybe they all escaped on the one ship that evaded me. I don’t know. But at least it never made it to Capital World.”

  “So then you were arrested and taken to Praxis where the Organization arranged for your escape. How’d you pull it off?”

  Raidan smiled. “I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to figure out how powerful the Organization is, and how it works. I won’t play along. But I’ll tell you this much. Not everything in the Harbinger’s cargo bays was cargo, if you get my meaning.”

  “So what did you do with the Harbinger’s original crew?”

  “Handed them off somewhere—those who weren’t on our side. Can’t remember where.” He shrugged innocently.

  Calvin frowned, understanding that Raidan wasn’t going to share more. “Then you went to Aleator,” said Calvin. “But you got there late. Probably because you were ‘handing off’
the original Harbinger crew, and, since there were no bases or planets nearby, you transferred them to another ship.” He thought back to Sarah’s findings. “The Liberty Sun.”

  Raidan clapped quietly. “You don’t disappoint.”

  “But the Liberty Sun was visually accounted for at its target destination … it couldn’t have had time to meet with you.”

  “Or so a paid witness claimed …”

  “I see.” Calvin nodded, thinking that would have been simple enough to arrange. “And then,” he continued, “you went and received a huge sum of money from one Yanal Kemmer on Aleator. That’s why you went there.”

  Raidan smirked.

  Calvin knew if there had been another reason, Raidan wouldn’t share it. “Then you went to Brimm and invaded the station and raided its hard drives. Obviously searching for intel. We got that same data, analyzed it, and found that several Rotham ships—many of which you destroyed—were scheduled to arrive at or bypass Abia System. But you already knew that, didn’t you?” Calvin looked into his eyes. “So why did you go to Brimm?”

  “Brimm. Brimm. Brimm … We did go to Brimm to collect information. It is, or was, a hub for a swathe of Phoenix Ring operatives. A staging point for maneuvering cargo, personnel, weapons, you name it, in that sector. From there we identified many of the ships involved in the conspiracy. Distinguishing the bad Rotham ships from the innocent commercial ones is not easy. Luckily the Phoenix Ring didn’t know we were on to their operation at Brimm, and the station wasn’t properly defended against a dreadnought.”

  “What about the Rotham ships that were there? You destroyed one and left the other intact.”

  “The T’orma and the Vim?”

  “Yeah,” said Calvin. “One was wiped out, but the other you just left there. Though, officially, you boarded it and captured its crew.”

  “I did. A key Phoenix Ring agent was on board. He was responsible for coordinating a lot of the activity and stood out like a sore thumb—a human on a Rotham ship, please. We took him and the crew alive. They’re currently in our detention block on this ship.”

  “Are they an information source or bargaining chips?” asked Calvin.

  “Information. The Phoenix Ring doesn’t value their compromised agents. And, unfortunately, their compromised agent didn’t know as much as we’d hoped.

  “Why did you leave that ship intact instead of destroying it and depriving them of that resource?”

  “I wanted you to see it,” said Raidan. “Simple as that.”

  “Okay …” said Calvin, piecing it together. “Then you went to Iota. Probably because of information you got from Brimm. But what did you find there?”

  “Phoenix Ring ships. They had to be destroyed.”

  “Class One cargo?”

  “No. Class One cargo is very rare, so far. These were carrying weapons.”

  “Small arms?”

  “No, the big kind. Planetary bombardment rounds.”

  “Do you know what they were planning with them?”

  Raidan didn’t answer.

  Calvin sighed and asked another question. “You left one ship there intact too. Disabled. But intact. And you told me to board it.”

  “Didn’t you?”

  “No,” said Calvin.

  “That’s too bad,” said Raidan. “I was hoping you could have exposed its cargo to Intel Wing and was also hoping that Phoenix Ring agents inside the government wouldn’t have been able to censor your discovery completely.”

  “What would I have found?” asked Calvin. “More planetary bombardment rounds?”

  “No. Criminals. Easily identifiable human fugitives living comfortably under the watch and guard of the Rotham crew. I didn’t kill them because they weren’t a threat. Their freedom and safe escape into the Rotham Republic is the Phoenix Ring’s way of repaying someone for some kind of favor. My killing them wouldn’t have been much of a prize, but your finding them, criminals on a ship that’s supposed to be there for peaceful reasons, well … that would have meant something.”

  “I see,” said Calvin. “And then you lured us to Abia to see the Rotham squadron. Why didn’t you just go straight there? We would have followed you.”

  “We didn’t want to alert them. If they figured out we were jumping to Abia, the squadron might have run away. Instead we pretended to go to Zendricun until we were too far out to be seen. Then we turned around, met up with our other ships, and went to Abia.”

  “And we took the bait,” said Calvin. “And because of that we lost many great people.” He kept his voice cool, despite the unsettled feelings inside him; above all he tried not to think of the gruesome deaths he’d witnessed. Losing officers was part of the job, but that knowledge had never really prepared him for losing friends.

  Raidan’s smile faded, and his eyes became sober. “I never guessed they could have seen past your stealth system.”

  Calvin didn’t reply.

  After an appropriate pause, Raidan added, “We’ve all lost much. And we’re going to lose a lot more. That’s just the way of it. Eventually we all die and lose everything.”

  “Indeed.” It made Calvin think of his brush with death on Aleator One, when first Jacobi and then Tristan had saved his life. “Tell me …” said Calvin.

  Raidan looked up.

  “What do you know about CERKO?”

  “Why?”

  “On Aleator One, I was ID’d and attacked by CERKO agents. Tristan came to my rescue, even though I’d handed him off to the port authority. Now that I know you’re working together, maybe you can explain what happened to me there. And how Tristan got aboard my ship, and then went free on Aleator, in the first place.”

  “We bribed a few choice Aleator officials when we heard, from some of our feelers, that CERKO was hired to kill you there. And, by the looks of it, somebody paid a lot. Outfitting that many rebels, sending them halfway across the Empire, giving them automatic weapons, and knowing just when you’d be there. Couldn’t have been cheap.”

  “Why me?”

  Raidan shrugged. “You tell me. Who wants you dead?”

  “I really don’t know …” Calvin was completely at a loss. Somehow he’d expected Raidan to know the answer. Maybe he didn’t want to tell him. Or maybe he was as baffled as Calvin.

  “So you made sure Tristan was there, to protect me from the CERKO agents, is that it?”

  Raidan smiled. “We recruited someone on your ship to make sure Tristan could get free and collect your … what would you call it?… Scent, I guess. So he could find you on Aleator.”

  Calvin thought about it for a minute. “Mr. Pellew. You recruited him somehow, and he made sure Tristan got free and switched out the surveillance footage.” Calvin was rambling more to himself than to Raidan, but this also helped explain why Pellew had been willing to take Calvin’s side against Summers and the major. He was working for Raidan or the Organization, or both …

  “Yes,” Raidan admitted. “Pellew is working with us. He’s a recent recruit. Nabbed him on Praxis, but we had considerable leverage.”

  “You coerced him?”

  “No. His sister is influential in the Organization. Blood is thicker than water, as they say, and money is thicker than blood. Interpret that however you like.”

  “What about Jacobi?” asked Calvin. “Or should I say, Titus Antony.”

  “Who?”

  “A man in a tattered military uniform. He was working with the CERKO agents up until the moment they were going to execute me. He killed them. And then, shortly after, more CERKO agents killed him. He didn’t tell me much. But I’m sure he’s connected to you.”

  Raidan’s face changed from smug to intrigued. “I know of no such person.”

  Calvin searched Raidan’s eyes. “Are you sure?”

  “Quite.”

  “I see …” He wasn’t sure if Raidan was lying or not. If Jacobi hadn’t been working for Raidan, why would he have acted as he did?

  “Then tell me about
Tristan,” said Calvin.

  “He’s been my contact with and information source for a few of the Remorii settlements.”

  Of course Calvin knew most Remorii lived in clans or groups or herds—whatever they were called—but he never thought they’d be useful to talk to, if dialogue were even possible. Too hard to find and too little power to be much of an asset, or so he’d believed. “Tristan’s a Remorii— creatures the Empire would eradicate if it could—so why would he care about protecting us humans?”

  “That’s an interesting question.” Raidan pressed his fingers together. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

  “When?”

  “Whenever you like. He’s going with you.” Raidan sat back.

  “On the Nighthawk?”

  Raidan nodded. “You’ll find him to be a very useful asset, I think. Consider it a fool’s apology for dragging you into all of this.”

  “No, I don’t think so,” said Calvin. “I don’t want a Remorii on my ship.”

  Raidan shrugged. “Suit yourself. I guess that means you don’t want to keep in contact with me and the Organization.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Tristan is my liaison. He knows how to contact the Organization. You don’t.”

  “You could tell me.”

  Raidan chuckled quietly. “It doesn’t work like that. You need Tristan. But understand he’s not like Remorii you’ve met in the past—That’s right. I know what really happened on the Trinity.” His eyes met Calvin’s. “Tristan is not the same. He’s a friend. Take him with you. He’ll prove his worth to you, I promise.”

  Calvin hesitated. He was very tired and felt disadvantaged. His fatigue dulled his edge. It was hard to put together the pieces, and sort out what was rational and what wasn’t. In the end, he nodded, thinking Tristan might be a source of information at the very least. “All right. He can come aboard.”

  “That’s wise,” said Raidan.

  “For now.”

  “It will be a sign to my other people on your ship that you are an ally. And should be followed.”

  “Other people?”

  “I understand you lost a great many people at Abia. Many of them critical personnel. Medics, crewmen, analysts … soldiers. They will need to be replaced for your ship to function, will they not?”

  Calvin thought of Monte, Rose, the major, and all of the others in their final moments, and lowered his head. Feeling the grief overcome him at last. “Yes. I even lost my chief physician.” It hurt to say that, but he did it as emotionlessly as he could. “I will need more people.”

  “It’s hard. I understand. But it comes with the job. You just have to pick yourself up and keep fighting.”

  Calvin nodded. He knew he couldn’t blame Raidan for what’d happened. At least not more than he could blame himself. “There is one other thing,” said Calvin.

  Raidan looked curious.

  Calvin wasn’t sure why he was bringing this up, except that the thought of returning to the Nighthawk, as a divided ship, was miserable. He needed cohesion. And that meant he needed to understand, in order to make peace. “Summers Presley,” he said. “Tell me … why is she so impassioned when your name comes up?”

  Raidan seemed surprised by the question. “Is she now?”

  Calvin frowned. “Yes. Something happened, or didn’t happen, between you two, and she’s been obsessed with hunting you down. She wants you to kiss Lady Justice.”

  A tiny intrigued smile appeared on Raidan’s lips. “I’m sure she does.”

  “Well?”

  “If you must know, she and I were close before all of this happened. How could we not be? She was the most reliable officer I’ve ever had. And she looked at me with a kind of respect that, well, very few can show. And, as I’m sure you’ve found, her advice is always extremely insightful.”

  Calvin said nothing.

  “So I came to depend on her more as an equal than as a subordinate. A partnership was born. But I kept one thing from her.”

  “The Organization.”

  “Exactly. And as we both know, in this game, the more knowledge you have, the less safe you are—I couldn’t tell her because I wanted to protect her.”

  “Meanwhile,” said Calvin, “she realizes you’ve been keeping secrets from her and misinterprets it—she thinks you don’t trust her. And now she wants to prove something to you.”

  “No. She had no idea I was keeping secrets up until the very, very end. It wasn’t until Harkov’s marines boarded my ship that she realized I’d been lying to her, and the whole crew, about everything. If she’s still ‘impassioned’ when my name comes up, it’s because she feels betrayed that I deceived her, no other reason.”

  Calvin didn’t push the matter but believed there was more to the story. “Thanks for your information,” he said. “I should return to my ship now. My crew and I need to mourn our dead.”

  “Yes, indeed,” said Raidan. “But don’t forget to have your defense officer contact me with details about the engagement in Abia, as agreed.”

  “I won’t forget,” said Calvin, unsure what Raidan would find useful about it—he already knew the Fifth Fleet destroyed itself. “Miles will contact you as soon as he’s able.”

  “Good.” Raidan scribbled a series of numbers onto his pad, then tore it off and handed it to Calvin. “Have him use this frequency.”