The Phoenix Darkness Read online

  The Phoenix Darkness

  Richard L. Sanders

  Smashwords Edition

  Version 1.2

  Copyright 2015, Richard L. Sanders

  License Notes

  Thank you for downloading this eBook. It is not free and every purchase greatly helps me in my difficult financial situation. But, that said, I have refused to include any DRM because I am morally against DRM. And if you want to share this book with family or friends that you personally know, you have my blessing. Just please bear in mind that I am up against a mountain of student loans and other financial obligations and so every genuine purchase helps me out tremendously. And might be the difference between making it and not making it, as it were. I would also ask that you please not make this book available for torrenting. Thank you.

  FOREWARD

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for your patience and for downloading this e-book. I know it has been a long wait in between The Phoenix War and the release of this book. As such, I have decided to include a short summary to help remind you what was going on in the story when we left off. If you remember already then feel free to skip the following.

  What they were up to:

  Calvin was working for Kalila on Capital World, racing to expose The Phoenix Ring before the Assembly, led by Caerwyn Martel, voted to rescind the authority of the monarch, King Hisato Akira. Meanwhile The Phoenix Ring itself was waiting for “Ascension” which was to be their coup to take over the government. Zane Martel hoped to run the Empire by using his brother Caerwyn as a puppet. Everybody’s plans seemed to fail as The Phoenix Ring was betrayed from within and slaughtered. This prevented Calvin from exposing them in time and the Assembly threw the Empire into political disarray.

  King Hisato Akira next came before the Assembly, to speak to the Empire, and either relinquish the throne or try to retain it, but, before his intentions were made clear, he was assassinated by Blackmoth. In the ensuing chaos, all of his heirs (except for Kalila) also are killed. This has left the Empire in a state of civil war with many planets supporting Kalila Akira, who, from exile, has declared herself Queen of the Empire; and many planets, including Capital World, supporting the Assembly which, under the influence of Caerwyn, rejects Kalila’s claim to the throne.

  The Assembly repeatedly proves itself too inept to elect an actual monarch, leaving the throne vacant. Caerwyn politically worms his way into being elected Steward of the Empire, and from that lofty position commands half the Imperial Fleet to war against Kalila. Their conflict culminates in the Battle of Apollo where the strategically crucial Apollo Shipyards are destroyed.

  As the Empire fights its civil war, Calvin investigates the DMZ where he discovers the Alliance has fallen to the Rotham. Without the Alliance in between Human and Rotham space, there is nothing deterring the Rotham from invading Human worlds, especially now that they’ve claimed Renora as their own. Calvin wishes to investigate Rotham space to see if any invasion fleet is forming, and accepts orders from Kalila to do so.

  In the meantime, Summers continues to lead the Nighthawk on its mission to find and destroy the remaining isotome weapons. They encounter Nimoux, the only survivor of a prison world, and Summers brings him aboard and instates him as the ship’s temporary XO. Nimoux informs them that the other prisoners had been all the many people who had been replaced by replicants, including Vice Admiral Harkov and Director Jack Edwards. Both now deceased. Blackmoth continues to create havoc and impose what he believes is Divine will.

  In the background of all of this, someone powerful is pulling strings and arranging elements, as if fulfilling some kind of design. Rumors exist that the mighty Dread Fleet has been summoned, although so far no one has any proof.

  As things currently stand, the respective Imperial fleets are licking their wounds from the bloody engagement at Apollo; Calvin and a handpicked team are scouting Rotham territory; and three parties are racing to intercept Zander (who is said to have the rest of the isotome weapons). The Nighthawk, Blackmoth, and Tristan each are determined to get to Zander first. With the winner possibly being able to determine the fate of the galaxy.

  Chapter 1

  In the blackness of alteredspace, Hunter Four slipped between the stars themselves. Black stars, stars unseen, a vast void and ocean of emptiness, which stretched beyond the utter reaches of eternity itself. If there could be a picture, a glimpse, of all that ever was and would be captured into one solitary moment, it would be this. Utter darkness: a raw and awesome beauty without peer.

  This, Blackmoth knew, was a taste of the void. It wasn’t the real thing; no. This…this alteredspace was a mere parlor trick compared to the void itself. This was a superficial pretender, the meager result of technology given to each sentient species when that species became sufficiently clever. This was a gift and nothing more. A chance for each species of its kind to peer into the infinite future and witness their own ultimate destiny and despair. And always, it was the same: blackness.

  Yet most who used this gift lacked the intelligence to even understand that much. No matter; once they brushed so much as a finger against the true nature of the void, as all mortals are destined to do, there was no coming back…an experience this entire galaxy would soon be blessed with. For such was the will of the One True God.

  “Three destructions have come forth and rained their havoc. Three of five. Three, just as the One True God has commanded.” And yet the galaxy remained in its ignorance, blind to the forces that tossed them about like feathers in so much wind.

  “When the final two destructions come, the luxury of ignorance will be gone.” Blackmoth knew the day of the mortal had waxed and waned and now, as was the true order of the Most Divine, there would be only an ending for them, no more beginnings. “Three of five,” he repeated quietly, as he adjusted the controls of the small starship and double checked his heading: Izar Ceti.

  “Three of five. I am the fourth, the sword that brings the darkness. And I am coming for you, Zander. You shall not live to see the glory of the final two destructions. For such is the pitiful nature of your soulless being.”

  ***

  In a semi-circle around him sat all of his ministers. Sergei, the Minister of Strategy was seated at his right with Oliver, his Minister of Finance, seated at his left. Of all the six buffoons that Caerwyn had puffed up to the lofty perches of his cabinet, he found these two the least useless. Though that said little for their credit.

  In the center of the room, shackled, stood Fleet Admiral Virgil Tiberon. He wasn’t as tall as Caerwyn had expected nor as fierce in appearance as he’d assumed the man to be. A hero of war, Tiburon had distinguished himself multiple times during the Great War and most recently as the field commander, leading Caerwyn’s entire naval force in the great victory at the Apollo Yards. By all rights, this man should have been standing here, in the presence of lords, decorated in medals, not chains. Yet here he was, head bowed in submission, shame bleeding from his face, flanked by two of Caerwyn’s most trusted, and brutal, guardsmen.

  “Do you know where you are?” asked Caerwyn, keeping his eyes shrewdly on the prisoner, who, by all accounts, seemed to have no explanation for his actions.

  “Yes, My Lord,” the Admiral said.

  “Where?”

  “In the Honor Chamber of the High Tower of Fleet Command.”

  “And do you remember the last time you were here?” asked Caerwyn.

  “Yes, My Lord Steward.”

  “Why were you here then?”

  “I was here then, standing in this very spot, to be offered overall command of all His Lord Steward’s naval and marine forces.”

  “The Assembly’s forces,” Caerwyn corrected him. A correction he hoped he
needn’t be making in the near future, but for now he was still a prisoner of making proper appearances, even within the privacy of these trusted gentlemen lords. If Caerwyn had learned anything as a member of an Honor House and a Representative of the Assembly, it was to trust gentlemen little and lords even less. As for the combination…their loyalty could only be depended upon through sheer force of power or the lubricating persuasion of money. In Caerwyn’s case, he was fortunate enough to have both. But he still had to maintain appearances.

  “Of course, My Lord Steward, it was the Assembly’s forces, not yours. I meant no offense.”

  “And now, weeks later, you stand here again. Pray tell us, Fleet Admiral, for what reason do you stand before us again now, as you do?” Caerwyn paid close attention to the man’s eyes, which was not easy to do, as Tiberon seemed to keep his head bowed in solemn shame, though eyes open.

  “I do not know,” he replied. Caerwyn’s instinct was to fill with anger; of course he knew, the blathering idiot. Don’t play games with me, Caerwyn thought. You damn well know why you’re here. But instead, Caerwyn retained his calm; after all, it was conceivable the Fleet Admiral did not know for certain why he’d been brought here. The moment his ship arrived in the system and he’d accepted the summons the from Steward Caerwyn to appear on Capital World, he’d been captured, taken under cover of darkness, and dragged here in shackles. Had the man’s crime been any less severe, or any less obvious, Caerwyn would not expect him to know what he’d done to offend the powers that be, but in this case there was precious little room for legitimate doubt.

  “You, sir,” said Sergei, Minister of Strategy, now speaking up, “are standing before us as a traitor.”

  “And whom did I betray, exactly?” asked Tiberon.

  “Silence,” bellowed Caerwyn, still only just managing to contain his fury. “You will speak when spoken to.”

  Fleet Admiral Virgil Tiberon did not reply.

  Sergei cleared his throat and continued, “You stand here as a traitor, sir, because we have numerous reports that forces under your command, a strength of more than sixty ships of war, were closing in on the ISS Black Swan, which had no adequate defense, and the opportunity was presented whereby you could have captured the pretender queen, or else destroyed her, and in either case you would have brought an end to this war. And yet, despite your numbers, the righteousness of the cause, and the certainty of the strategy, you did knowingly, and without good provocation, order your forces to withdraw and instead allow the rebel instigator, that wretched, insurrectionist, pretender queen to escape unharmed. Do you deny it?”

  Don’t bother, Caerwyn was tempted to add. The evidence was indisputable.

  “I do not deny it,” said Tiburon, saying perhaps the first intelligent thing since he’d arrived.

  “Then you admit you are working on behalf of the pretender queen and that your sympathies lie with Kalila Akira, enemy of the state?”

  “No, My Lord, I am neither working with her, nor do my sympathies align with hers. She is a criminal, a usurper, and she does not deserve the throne she seeks.”

  Again Caerwyn was nothing but baffled. Why would this fool even pretend, after admitting he let her go, that he stood on the side of righteousness against her?

  Sergei looked at a loss for what to ask next, so Caerwyn resumed the questioning. “You say you are against her, and yet you let her go. Explain.”

  “My Lords, I joined the navy to defend the Empire. I joined the battle to defend the Assembly’s throne against a usurper. But I never joined His Majesty’s Forces, peace rest his soul, to shed Akiran blood and slaughter the last living child of Hisato Akira. He was a great man.”

  Caerwyn wished he could punch a beggar for every time he heard someone pay lip service to the dead king. The man was a royal imbecile and he deserved the death he got, violent and terrifying as it was, but just because he came from a famous family, had reigned, mostly incompetently, for many years, and happened to be murdered on the Assembly floor didn’t elevate the man to some kind of sainthood. And yet, to maintain his good image with the people, and continue to nurture his own claim to the throne, even Caerwyn Martel himself had to bow and stoop and give lip service to the idol that was King Hisato Akira. May his rotting bones be eaten by beetles…

  “You had sympathy for our late king, as did we all,” said Caerwyn, delicately. “But you admit his daughter is a usurper and a criminal. Why not disable her ship, storm it by force, and capture her alive? That would have ended the war, satisfied justice, and you would have no Akiran blood on your hands. Why not do that?” Caerwyn resisted the urge to stand up out of his chair and strike the man in the head for his stupidity. But it had taken enough work just to get into the chair, so the last thing Caerwyn wanted to do was find the energy to wiggle out of it in, no doubt, an undignified manner.

  “My Lords, I loved and knew her family well,” said Tiberon. “As I said before, she is all that is left of Hisato’s bloodline, and to capture her would still have meant a death sentence. I still had hope, as I do now, that she will see the wisdom of laying down her arms and submitting to you lords, and come about it peacefully. I am no fool; I know this is a fool’s dream and the war will likely end with her blood. But I knew then, as I do now, that I couldn’t be the one to spill it. A man has nothing if he hasn’t got hope. And I hope against reason, against probability, and against logic itself, that she will give up her cause, bow her head to you, and that you will grant her clemency. It was that hope which forced me to stay my hand in the battle, and that is all I ask of you now. No, I beg of you, my most glorious and righteous lords. I ask for a swift death, not a painful one, and for a promise that, should Kalila lay down her arms, she will be granted an offer of clemency. If I could have but those two things…”

  “You’re in no position to be asking for anything,” snapped Sergei. And, Caerwyn had to admit, Sergei had the right of it. But Tiburon’s wishes did give Caerwyn something useful. So long as he knew what Tiberon wanted, he could use that to control him and perhaps make something useful of this debacle yet.

  “Gag him,” said Caerwyn. “And cover his ears.” One of the two guards violently tied a gag around Tiberon’s mouth, while the other placed soundproof block puffs in his ears, then covered them with his hands as an additional measure of security. “Also blindfold him.” The first guard complied.

  “Friends, lords, ministers,” said Caerwyn, looking at the cabinet of advisors he’d selected, mostly out of an ability to trust and control them rather than any merit, skill, or insights any of them had to offer, excepting perhaps Oliver, whose treasury knowledge was not something Caerwyn believed he understood adequately in his own right. “Do you believe him?”

  “I don’t see why not,” said Abhishu, Minister of Commerce.

  “Because he might be working for the false queen,” said Caerwyn.

  “I agree with Minister Abhishu,” said Sergei. “The man commanded the battle with skill and expertise, far more than mere competence. If he’d wanted to sabotage our war effort, he could have ordered the ships into bad formations, maneuvered the support ships into positions of vulnerability, and otherwise made tactical mistakes which would have given Kalila Akira the upper hand, perhaps even victory outright. Yet, instead, he manages a perfectly respectable war effort on our part, commits to tactics with the methodical precision of a textbook, and only errs by allowing the pretender queen to escape.”

  “Which is a colossal error, let’s not forget,” said Oliver.

  “Hear, hear,” said Caerwyn.

  “Yes, I admit it,” said Sergei. “And one probably deserving of death. But it’s not a suspicious mistake. If a commander fights valiantly in the field and makes no effort to sabotage our battle, and then merely chooses not to pursue and capture the enemy, that is hardly proof of collusion with that enemy. More like it is an old-fashioned act of mercy.”

  “A highly antiquated notion, and dangerous, to carry around with you on the battlefield,
” said Caerwyn.

  “I also agree,” said Sergei.

  “So now, the question is, what is to be done with him?” asked Caerwyn.

  “The matter seems simple enough to me,” said Sali, Minister of Justice. “The punishment is death, the evidence abundant. We try him and then we execute him.”

  “It’s not so simple as that,” said Caerwyn, wishing his advisors didn’t so often need the political consequences of such decisions to be spoon-fed to them in such small pieces. “The man is a hero of war and, by all rights, a hero of a battle. A battle which we have made very large efforts to spread the joyous news, far and wide, was a complete success. What would the people think of our victory if we then go and judicially sentence and execute the man who commanded the battle and, in the eyes of the people, won us the victory?”

  “We do it here, tonight,” suggested Sergei. “No one knows he's here, and no one will know it’s his corpse when we send it away in very small containers to be incinerated. The man simply disappeared. A mystery for the ages.”

  “Not bad,” said Caerwyn, “but not quite the opportunity I’m aiming for here. Think about it; we already know the two things he most desires, a swift death and a promise of clemency for Kalila. If we promise him those things, then we can control him. If he is under our control we give him a script, feed him a story, and then he will come forward, declaring himself for the enemy, and we can execute him as a traitor; make an example out of him. Stymie the traitorous feelings of others by showing what happens to those who betray the Empire, and at the same time creating a vacuum of wartime leadership heroism which can be filled by me.”

  “Forgive me, My Lord, but you, sir?” asked Oliver. Because Oliver wasn’t quite such a dunce as the rest, Caerwyn decided to overlook the slight and instead explain.