The Phoenix Conspiracy Read online

  "Hurry up, we're in serious danger here." They sprinted again.

  A noise ahead made Jacobi stop dead in his tracks, about face, and bolt the opposite way. "They're faster than I thought, come on!"

  Calvin followed close behind. "Who is? And who are you? What's your interest in all of this?"

  "I'm not Intel Wing or Navy," Jacobi led him to an adjoining hall. "And Jacobi isn't my real name, either."

  They turned the corner just in time to see a man and woman open fire at them with submachine guns. Jacobi was shredded immediately; he collapsed without so much as a scream. A stray bullet tore Calvin's shirt and grazed his arm, burning his skin. He was otherwise unscathed because Jacobi had taken the bullets for him, like an involuntary human shield.

  Calvin raised his handgun and returned fire blindly while scurrying around the corner. He heard the sound of reloading and a part of him thought to go back around the corner and engage them, maybe take them down before they could finish. But his limbs wouldn't cooperate and the urgency of self-preservation took over. He sprinted down the corridor trying to remember his way back to the nearest public place. But, before he reached the end of the hall, another pair of unknown soldiers appeared.

  He went prone, somewhat concealed by the darkness as their muzzles flashed, peppering the walls with holes. He raised his pistol to shoot back but all that happened was the click of an empty clip and his slide stuck back.

  "There he is, he's on the ground," one of them said. The soldier barely finished his sentence before screaming and dropping to the floor. Something large was on top of him, digging at him with claws. Then, in a flash, it flew past Calvin and knocked the other soldier down with a powerful swipe, tearing him apart in seconds.

  From behind this new stranger two new soldiers arrived and opened fire at the monster’s silhouette, which seemed as much creature as man. It roared in pain but managed to duck their next volley and sail across the corridor in only a few leaps. These soldiers also died in the same gruesome, lightning fashion.

  In the faint light, Calvin made out the red eyes of a lycan as it finished clawing through the last gunman. Impossible. It was Tristan. Hairier, claws brought to bear, raging with pure unrefined ferocity, but otherwise did not resemble a wolf.

  Several men with handguns came from the other side of the corridor and opened fire on the werewolf. Calvin guessed there were ten or more. Tristan's eyes locked with Calvin's for a brief instant, as if to say something, then he vanished away into the darkness, leaving a trail of blood.

  The newest arrivals ran up to Calvin and lowered their weapons. And Calvin recognized a bulbous middle-aged, goateed face that he hadn't seen in a long time.

  "Grady Rosco."

  "Calvin Cross, why didn't you tell me you were here?" They helped him to his feet.

  "It wasn't exactly convenient."

  "You can tell me about it in a minute," Grady said, then to his men, "Let's move!"

  The mob of sharply dressed soldiers formed a ring around Calvin and rushed him down the corridor and up the stairs to a guarded office where four large guards with automatic weapons stepped aside and opened a door to a small lobby.

  "Wait here," Grady told the others. He unlocked a second door which revealed a small but luxurious office. He waved Calvin inside and shut it, leaving them alone. "Please, take a seat."

  "All right," said Calvin cautiously and he pulled a chair from the table. Grady sat opposite.

  "You know, I'm disappointed," Grady shook his head. "That a friend of my family would come to my home without paying me a visit."

  "Like I said, it wasn't convenient." Calvin's father had had past dealings with the Roscos before he disappeared, but Calvin's mother had kept him as far away from them and their underworld as possible, so he'd rarely interacted with them face-to-face.

  "You know, you almost died. I'm embarrassed, Calvin. Embarrassed that you were attacked in my house. Someone will die for this, I promise you."

  "Someone already has. Lots of people."

  "Do you have any idea how much that would have dishonored my family?" Grady paused to offer Calvin a cigar, when he refused Grady lit one for himself and continued. "If a most honored guest were murdered here. Do you have any idea? You really should have told us, then we could have protected you."

  "I didn't expect I'd need protection."

  "Any idea who's got it out for you?"

  "No."

  "People smuggling automatic weapons into my house and several dead in my hallways. This isn't the way we do business around here. My family is going to get to the bottom of this and any information you have would be worth a lot. A lot of q if you catch my drift."

  The way Grady was talking, asserting his ownership over Aleator One, made Calvin assume he'd moved up the chain. He was a Rosco cousin, one of the family but not one of the bosses, putting him maybe twelfth on the totem pole, or so it had been last time. Calvin could only guess what Grady had done or whom he'd rubbed out to climb the ladder to third or fourth.

  "I'm sorry, I don't have any information. Maybe you can tell me how that many people could have such powerful weapons on Aleator One."

  Grady shrugged. "I have no idea. But I promise you, when I do, I'll let you know. It's the least I can do."

  "Good," said Calvin, hoping to wrap this up. "I'll be in touch."

  "Wait," said Grady, sitting forward urgently. "There's still a matter of unfinished business."

  This was exactly the reason why Calvin hadn't told the Roscos he was coming... that and it would look bad to the Fleet if they found out he had underworld connections, especially if it was Summers Presley who figured it out.

  "I already told you," Calvin insisted. "We're even. You just saved my life, if anything I owe you."

  "Don't insult me," said Grady. "We barely manage to protect you from a bunch of two-bit punks on my station, in my own house, and you call that a display of our gratitude? Oh no, no, no. That's an embarrassment. It’s sad that we didn't get those guys first. That's not thanks. And if it were, it still wouldn’t be thanks enough, not even close. Not after what he did for us. The family is very much indebted to you."

  "Indebted to my father, not me."

  "We can't do anything for him now, the debt passes to you. We owe him, so we owe you. He would want what's best for his son. And we don't like being in debt. Name anything and it's yours. Anything."

  Calvin wasn't comfortable. He didn't know the extent of his father's dealings with the premiere criminal family in the galaxy and he didn't want to be associated with them. He could be clever and underhanded if he needed to, like his father, but he had too much of his mother in him to relish those talents. He'd also grown up resenting Aleator and the Roscos for stealing his dad from him. When his friends spent time with their fathers, he hadn't even known his. The last thing in the world he wanted was to validate that by benefitting from his dad's mistakes. But he couldn't explain that here, and even if he found the words to try... the Roscos would never understand or accept that.

  A part of him wanted to name something random just to placate them, like a book collection, but he knew they'd never accept his offer unless it was something grandiose, and anything grandiose would draw too much attention. Plus there was nothing in the galaxy they could give him that he couldn't already get for himself.

  "Ok, I know what I want."

  "Anything."

  "I want you to stop feeling indebted to me. I want us to call it even. I forgive you the debt."

  "I can't do that."

  "You said anything."

  "Don't insult the Rosco honor, Calvin. Let us do you a favor. Need us to muss someone's hair? Get someone out of the way?"

  "I'm sorry, there's nothing I need."

  "What about..." Grady lowered his voice. "I understand you've developed a taste for some magic."

  About a year ago, Calvin had stayed two nights on Aleator during a shore leave to meet an old friend who was now an imperial fugitive. During that s
tay, he'd accidentally left a bottle of equarius in his room. Apparently the Roscos had done their housekeeping.

  "What would you say," Grady continued. "To a lifetime supply of that stuff?"

  "No thanks." It would be bad enough if Calvin were caught using equarius for recreational purposes, but to have his drug-use linked to a well-known criminal outfit would be even worse. "I already have a guy for that."

  "We can take care of that too." Grady took out his pistol and set it on the table. "Just say the word."

  "The word is no."

  "I'm sorry to hear that, Calvin." Grady sat back in his leather chair. "But I'm sure when you do think of something, you'll let me know."

  "Well there is one thing," said Calvin, after a moment's hesitation.

  Grady perked up and leaned forward.

  "This is off the record," Calvin's eyes narrowed.

  "Everything here is off the record."

  "I'm looking for a ship. I want to know if it spent any time here in the last few days."

  "What ship?"

  "It's called the Harbinger. A big ship, first-rate, Imperial crew, you couldn't miss it."

  "Harbinger, you say..." Grady stroked his goatee. "That would be Asari Raidan's ship, would it not?"

  Actually the real Captain was a woman named Jane Simmons, but Calvin pretended otherwise. "Yeah, that's right."

  "Big spender, on time, uses cash, doesn't ask questions. Not the kind of customer I'd have anything to say about. We don't like to pry into people affairs, you know."

  Calvin resisted the urge to roll his eyes. I bet you don't.

  "But you don't waltz into our system with a first-rate stolen Imperial ship with a thousand crew and not escape our notice."

  "I thought you'd know something," Calvin wagged a finger at him.

  "You understand that normally I wouldn't be at liberty to say," Grady smiled. "But, seeing as you’re a friend of the family,” he lowered his voice. “The ship entered the system yesterday. It kept its distance and didn't make port, but it launched a small shuttle with maybe twenty people aboard. They spent some money, met up with some other people discreetly, and left long before you arrived."

  "Can you tell me where they went?"

  "Their heading was the Brimm System, but if they changed course there's no way I could know."

  "You didn't follow them, or anything?"

  "There was no need. Their money was good, they kept the peace, followed the rules, and left without any trouble."

  Calvin knew the answer to his next question, but wanted to see Grady’s reaction. "You knew the ship was stolen. Had you reported its arrival the Imperial government would have paid a handsome bounty."

  "Reported it?" Grady laughed. "Not interested."

  It was like Calvin had expected. Aleator wouldn’t get involved, not because the Harbinger was too powerful to deal with—which it was, but because someone on the station had a vested interest in Raidan’s welfare, or more likely, Raidan’s money. But knowing Grady as well as he did, Calvin doubted it was Grady himself.

  "What can you tell me about the people the Harbinger crew met with on your station? Can you give me their names?"

  "Yeah, I could, but it wouldn't do you any good. They're all fake. Most of the people who come here don't exactly have bona fide paperwork. That's why they come here," he shrugged. "But I can tell you this, they were all ex-Imperials. No aliens, no outer kingdom humans from god-knows-where inside the DMZ, and—of course—no Roscos. Just former Imperials."

  "Thanks," said Calvin as he stood up. "Does that make us even?"

  "No. But it's a start."

  Chapter 13

  When Calvin stepped back aboard the Nighthawk's bridge, Sarah applauded. "Welcome back, sir, I heard you took out a hundred men."

  He laughed. "More like a thousand," then turned to Miles. "And how many did you tell her you took out?"

  "A million."

  He'd met up with Miles on Aleator One but had sent him ahead so he could discreetly obtain a datadisc from Grady Rosco containing all the information they had about the Harbinger's mysterious visit, and, after Calvin had asked for it, everything the Roscos had on CERKO—which wasn’t much. Calvin held out for more, but Grady insisted that was all he had to give—so Calvin took it for what it was worth. But, not wanting to give away his association with the Roscos—which would appear greater than it actually was, Calvin kept the disc in his pocket intending to analyze it later, on his own.

  "Are you all right, Lieutenant Commander?" asked Summers. She almost sounded concerned.

  "Just a scratch," Calvin rubbed the bandage he’d received at an Aleator medical clinic. He took out a separate datadisc and tossed it to Shen. "Scan through that, run those prints, and get me what you can on these guys. I want to know who they are, where they came from, and how they knew we were Imperials." It had samples and details regarding his mysterious submachine gun-wielding assailants.

  "How'd you get digital images of their prints?" asked Summers as Shen plugged the disc into his terminal.

  "Cleverly," Calvin left it at that. He wasn't about to admit they'd been handed over to him by the Roscos. Part of him wanted to withhold that disc too, but he knew running the prints and checking into the backgrounds of his attackers was too much to handle in addition to everything else he was investigating.

  "We need to send a report to Fleet Command," said Summers, "telling them about the attack against you."

  "We don't know who was behind it yet or why. So there's nothing to report." Calvin didn't want the Fleet to start digging for information regarding him on Aleator.

  "I think it's pretty obvious the Rosco family is behind it," said Summers. "I've been reading about them and nothing happens on Aleator without their knowledge and permission. Especially something this big."

  "I'm going to have to agree with her," Miles chimed in. "For once." He gave her a glare.

  "It does seem likely," Shen added.

  "I'm not convinced," said Calvin. He searched his mind for some excuse to give. He wasn't about to explain that he knew the Roscos weren't involved because he knew them personally. "I saw the attackers. They had custom weapons and didn’t seem to know the area very well. That and they didn’t behave like Roscos. They had to be outsiders." Calvin did think they were outsiders, but everything else he'd made up. Part of him didn't want to hurt their investigation by providing bad information, but he needed some excuse to delay reporting to the Fleet. "So we're going to look into it some more before making a report."

  "Are you sure?" asked Miles.

  "Am I ever unsure?" Calvin became annoyed.

  "Whatever you say."

  "Summers," Calvin turned to his XO. "Did your survey of the system find anything?"

  "Yes. The Harbinger was definitely here. Engine signatures about five million mc's out. Also, the ship's name was logged on the arrival manifest. But that's all we have. We couldn't get a good enough footprint to determine where they were headed for sure. Our best guess is somewhere in The Corridor."

  "The Corridor, you say?" Calvin took his seat at the command position. "Let's try Brimm."

  "Any particular reason?"

  "Just a hunch."

  "Based on what, Lieutenant Commander?"

  "We have to start somewhere and that will do. Now, Sarah, set course and get us underway."

  "Yes sir," she input the new course.

  "ETA?"

  "Ten hours."

  "So what do we do in the meantime?" asked Miles.

  Calvin looked from him to Summers. "We check up on our friends in the infirmary.”

  ***

  When Calvin arrived, he found the infirmary locked down. He approached and two soldiers stood down for him to pass.

  The door whisked open and he stepped into the infirmary. It was a medium-sized rectangular room crowded with beds, computers, and all kinds of technology he didn’t understand. In the far corner, Dr. Monte Blair was stroking his thin grey beard while looking over
an X-ray monitor and giving out sporadic orders to some of the other medics.

  "Hello there," said Calvin.

  Monte looked up and, upon seeing Calvin, ambled over. "What brings you here?"

  "I want to know about our injured soldiers," he noticed them on two of the beds. One still had his eyes closed and appeared to be sleeping but the other was sitting up, bent over and running a hand over his buzzed hair—he seemed distant, almost unaware of his surroundings. They both looked much better than they previously had. "They seem to be doing okay."

  "They've both regained consciousness—don't let that one fool you, he's not asleep just resting," Monte shook his head. "Neither are ready to return to duty yet, however. Mitchell has some swelling and they both have head and neck pain. Nothing serious, no spinal damage or anything. They're going to be fine."

  "Are they up for some questioning?"

  "I think so, just go easy on them for now. In an hour or two they'll be free to leave and return to Special Forces HQ."

  "OK," said Calvin. "I’d like to interview them in a more private environment,” his eyes shifted from the noisy machines to the busy staff.

  “How about my quarters?” offered the doctor.

  “Perfect, and I’d like you to come along.”

  “Of course I’m coming, it’s my quarter.”

  Once they were all together behind closed doors Calvin got right to the point. “I’d like to know how you were incapacitated and put into that container.” He said, looking one of them in the eyes—“Adams” was stitched to his fatigues and he wore the emblem of master sergeant.

  "I don't know," said Adams.

  "Dr. Blair told us what happened, how you found us and all," said Mitchell—the other soldier. "But we don't remember any of that. It's not like we would have let someone put us there by choice. I mean, what if we ran out of water or air or something?" Mitchell sounded edgy, almost defensive.

  "I'm not implying you let yourselves be overpowered, soldier. I just want to know what happened. When a prisoner escapes and surveillance footage disappears, and two of the Empire's finest soldiers get taken down on my ship, I want to know why and how."