The Phoenix Rising Page 16

  “What was that about?” asked Miles.

  “Listen up! I have new orders!”

  ***

  In the silent anticipation, Nimoux closed his eyes and tried to empty his mind. As always, his center eluded him, and he had difficulty quieting his thoughts. Emotions pestered him, elusive and uncontrolled, and images flickered in his mind. Wooden coffins. Three of them. And an outdoor funeral in the sun—he remembered it crisping the parts of his head his receding hair no longer protected.

  The service had been respectful. The dead were showered with praises for dying in the line of duty. But no one elaborated on how or why they’d been slain. The details were sealed tightly in the confidential files of Intel Wing. But Nimoux could never forget how the three officers ended up in those boxes. He’d put them there himself. A choice that continued to haunt him, even years later. Keeping him from the peace he so desperately sought.

  “Sir, the Nighthawk is moving again,” said the ops officer. “It has resumed its approach.”

  Nimoux opened his eyes and smiled. “Very good.” As predicted, Calvin had been unable to resist the bait. Nimoux wondered what was so important about the Arcane Storm that made Calvin pursue it so earnestly.

  “Forty mc’s and closing,” said the ops officer.

  “Order the other ships to keep holding fire until the Nighthawk is completely inside the nebula.”

  “Yes, sir,” said the pilot.

  “Thirty mc’s and closing.”

  “Defense status?”

  “All weapons ready.”

  “Good. Remind the fleet to confine fire to the Nighthawk’s propulsion systems and jump drive. We’re going to disable them, not destroy.”

  “Aye, sir. Relaying message.”

  “Twenty-two mc’s and closing...”

  “All ships acknowledge your orders, sir,” said the pilot.

  “Eighteen mc’s and closing...”

  Nimoux felt himself growing tense—the critical moment was fast approaching. He began a breathing exercise to maintain perfect calm. “That’s right, steady as she goes, Cross.”

  “Ten mc’s. Nine. Eigh—hold on. The Nighthawk has halted its approach once again. Holding position at eight point two mc’s from the mouth of the nebula.”

  “Now the ship’s close enough to interdict,” said the defense officer.

  Nimoux would have preferred to take the Nighthawk inside the nebula, but sometimes a bird in the hand was worth two in the bush. He didn’t want to give Calvin the chance to change his mind and leave. If Nimoux had a reasonable chance to capture the ship, he’d take it. “Order the fleet to converge on the Nighthawk, full speed. Weapons free. And bring our own weapons to bear.”

  “The Nighthawk is turning—yaw starboard,” said the ops officer.

  “They’re turning around?” asked Nimoux. “Can they see us?”

  “Not yet—not until we exit the nebula.”

  “Weapons lock,” said the defense officer.

  “Fire.”

  “It’s too late,” said the ops officer. “The ship’s gone. Alteredspace jump complete.”

  “Scan their last known position,” said Nimoux. “Find out where they’re going.”

  “It’s next to impossible to determine for sure,” said the ops officer. “They jumped as close to the nebula as they possibly could. Brilliantly executed… Their jump signature is being distorted by the ionized gas. I can’t get a good reading on it.”

  “Not even with our upgraded sensors?”

  “I can get a general fix, but nothing specific.”

  “Send what you can to the lab and the other ships,” said Nimoux. “Between our resources and those of the Rhea, we should be able to figure out where the Nighthawk is likely going. Calculate its most probable destination and then report back to me.”

  Chapter 14

  The empty darkness through the window told them all they were safely in alteredspace again. Calvin felt a wave of relief that no one else really understood. “Any indication that we’re being followed?”

  “Not that I can see,” said Shen. “They shouldn’t be able to pick up our trail, thanks to nebular distortion. Sarah executed a perfect jump.”

  “Why thank you, Shen,” said Sarah.

  “Status and ETA?” asked Calvin.

  “All systems normal,” said Shen.

  “Jump depth of eighty percent potential,” said Sarah. “We’ll reach Tybur system in... just under twenty-six hours.”

  “Good.” Calvin leaned back in his chair. “Hopefully this lead proves better than the last one.”

  “I still don’t understand what you’re doing,” said Tristan. He didn’t look angry, but he was displeased. “How can you be sure the Arcane Storm was not within our grasp and now we are fleeing from it?”

  “I already told you,” said Calvin. “I got new intelligence that an ambush awaited us in the Vulture Nebula.”

  “And yet, you will not tell us the source of this intelligence?” Tristan raised an eyebrow.

  “That’s right,” said Calvin. “And don’t bother trying to get it out of me. My source is doing everything he or she can to protect this ship, and I will do everything I can to protect my source. Including keeping my lips sealed regarding his or her identity.”

  Tristan shook his head. “This is your ship. This is your fool’s errand,” he said. “But Raidan trusts you and so I will too. We will go to Tybur as you wish.”

  “Of course we will,” said Calvin. “I’m the captain.”

  “Yeah,” said Miles, needlessly backing him up. “He’s the captain.”

  Tristan ignored the defense officer and instead walked right up to Calvin. Unsure whether or not to feel threatened, Calvin stood up and looked Tristan in the eyes.

  “Just understand,” said Tristan. “That I believe Tybur will prove a waste of time. Afton gave us his word. Next to him, Calum is nothing. Less than nothing. A drunken fool who spins stories that wouldn’t fool children. If anyone were to betray us, it would be Calum.”

  Calvin disagreed. And he thought Afton had not only given them bad information, he’d deceived them on purpose. And whether he’d been bribed or coerced into helping Intel Wing, Afton had played his part. The only question that remained was: how had Nimoux known Calvin was heading to Echo Three enough in advanced to manipulate Afton?

  Calvin had kept their destination, Echo Three, a closely guarded secret. The unauthorized communication Shen had noticed earlier must have been an insider feeding Nimoux information, the question was, of the few who knew their destination: Summers, Tristan, Alex and Pellew, which of them had betrayed his trust and tipped off Intel Wing? Or else told somebody who then told Nimoux?

  Despite his suspicions, Calvin knew it wouldn’t be prudent to begin a public witch hunt. Not now anyway. The best he could do was keep an even tighter lid on important information from now on, if possible, and one-by-one investigate the possibility that one of his closest associates betrayed him. At least he could acquit Shen, Miles, and Sarah—since none of them had known their destination in advance.

  Calvin chose not to condemn Afton too harshly in front of Tristan, who obviously still clung to some kind of loyalty to his clan’s leader. It was better to simply let it go for now. So Calvin said nothing.

  “No matter what you heard, no matter what you were told,” said Tristan. “You will never know for certain what was inside that nebula.”

  That was true. Even as he’d ordered the ship to turn and jump away—and he’d watched the majestic view of the nebula disappear—he’d wondered whether or not the Desert Eagle was actually inside that cloud. Perhaps it was Rafael who had been given bad information. Or perhaps Rafael had been convinced to work against them. Unlikely but not impossible. Calvin would have to keep his guard up.

  “And I for one stand by Afton’s honor,” said Tristan. “Leaving the Vulture Nebula was a mistake.”

  “Objection noted,” said Calvin. “Now... are you done?”

&
nbsp; “Yes,” said Tristan, turning away. “As ever, I accept your leadership. And pray you are not leading us to our deaths.”

  ***

  They were able to determine fairly easily that the Nighthawk was heading deep into the DMZ, but specific candidate locations were still too numerous to choose from and thus had to be narrowed down. Nimoux ordered his ship to jump to a deep position inside the DMZ, but he wouldn’t be satisfied that he was truly back on the trail until they’d determined the Nighthawk’s likeliest two or three destinations.

  While awaiting further results from the Desert Eagle’s lab, and the Rhea’s, he’d gone into his office to meditate. His crew had instructions to only interrupt him if there was an emergency, or if the Nighthawk’s destination had been more conclusively determined. Until then, Nimoux wished to be alone with his thoughts.

  He was able to push away the guilt that usually weighed heavily upon him during such meditation sessions. He thought of the recent failure and tried to sort out why his plan had not succeeded. Had there been a flaw in his design? Had he made erroneous assumptions? Had Calvin been able to see through the deception? Or had he been warned?

  Nimoux considered each possibility in depth. Admitting flaws in his ideas, or being wrong, never bothered him. If it meant a chance for greater epiphany, and more accurate knowledge, he welcomed the opportunity to be proven wrong. He’d never understood the almost universal flaw others had to defend wrong information, imperfect logic, or bad ideas in order to protect pride. Such was a charade that no one found convincing, and only managed to waste time.

  Open-minded as he was, he couldn’t identify anything specifically flawed about his plan and how the operation had been conducted. By all appearances, the Nighthawk had been led to the trap and had very nearly sprung it. If Calvin had seen through the deception, it must have been after arrival and meant the Nighthawk’s sensors were more apt than given credit.

  Or, just as plausible—perhaps more so—Calvin had been warned about the trap just before springing it. The timing of such a warning seemed almost too lucky to be believable, but, the more Nimoux thought about it, the more likely it seemed.

  He’d had to finalize the specific details of his plan through several layers of Intel Wing bureaucracy and any number of people could have leaked the information to Calvin. If such an agent existed, a mole working for Calvin, that person had been very lucky to reach Calvin as quickly as he did. And must have relied on many varied contact methods, including extremely broad kataspace frequency channels.

  Nimoux considered other possibilities for the next twenty minutes, and let his mind relax and empty itself for an additional ten, but by the time his meditation was over, he found himself over ninety percent certain that Calvin had a mole working for him inside Intel Wing. He decided to spend the next little while figuring out who.

  The person was probably—though not necessarily—an associate of Calvin’s, someone he knew in person and was on a first name basis with. Since Nimoux had been assigned this mission, bringing Calvin in, he’d created a fairly extensive profile of Calvin’s past. The younger man had been widely involved throughout his life. He’d gone to several schools and served in the navy before being recruited into Intel Wing. Nimoux decided to dismiss all of those possible leads for now, believing that Calvin’s circle of associates with Intel Wing access would necessarily be much smaller.

  Director Edwards was a possibility, he’d acted as Calvin’s handler—and managed all stealth ships in Intel Wing, including Nimoux’s. He certainly would have means and opportunity, but no motive was forthcoming. Nor had Edwards seemed insincere in his desire to bring Calvin in. Nimoux had noted an oddness to Edwards, something about his voice or body language, but none of the tell-tale signs of guilt or deception. More likely the result of fatigue or distraction. Nothing too damning.

  As Nimoux perused the Intel Wing database and cross-checked his profile of Calvin with larger networks of information, he stumbled onto something that even a fool wouldn’t miss.

  Some of Calvin’s crewmembers—men and women who’d been with Calvin when he’d gone rogue—had returned to Intel Wing. Allegedly indemnifying themselves with assurances that they had no part in Calvin’s rogue actions, and had nothing but the strictest loyalty toward Intel Wing. Supposedly they’d each been thoroughly interrogated, and their stories tested against one another, before being cleared to resume duty.

  Why had Calvin allowed these officers to leave his ship and potentially work against him? The superficial response, that he let them go of their own free will as a sign of good faith, didn’t seem nearly as plausible as that he let them go because he benefitted from their absence. Perhaps because one or more had been given instructions to relay information to him.

  Apparently only four officers had returned. Which narrowed the suspect list significantly. Nimoux couldn’t identify the likeliest candidate—perhaps they were all in on it together—but that was something Intel Wing could easily determine.

  He tapped the switch on his desk. “Bridge, connect me to the office of Director Edwards.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  A few moments later and the director’s face was looking back at him from the other side of the display. “What is it, Captain? Have you determined where the Nighthawk has gone?”

  “Not yet, sir. But I believe I know why my first effort was unsuccessful. I suspect Mister Cross has a mole working for him inside Intel Wing. And I believe that mole is one or more of the officers who left the Nighthawk and were recently reinstated inside Intel Wing. I believe the mole relayed information to Calvin that compromised the mission.”

  “I see,” said the Director. “I’ll assign someone to look into it right away. Is there anything else?”

  “Yes, I also have a request.”

  “What is it?”

  “Due to the failure in the Vulture Nebula, and the possibility that not all channels are secure, I request permission to arrange the details of my operations through stricter channels. I would also like the ability to act without constant need to obtain clearance.”

  “Are you asking for unilateral authority over this mission?” asked the Director. “Because I can’t give you that.”

  “Not unilateral, sir,” said Nimoux. “But I would be a lot more effective if the process of maneuvering resources and conducting operations was shorter and more secure.”

  “I understand. Since you’re using navy resources in addition to our own, I’ll have to speak with Fleet Admiral Tiberon. But I believe something can be arranged.”

  “Also,” said Nimoux. “Because the Nighthawk’s destination cannot be determined with perfect confidence, I will need a larger taskforce of ships. I understand the burden this will impose, however—”

  “Request granted,” said the director. “Your mission is one of our highest priorities. I am sure arrangements for a larger taskforce will not be an issue. So long as you guarantee that this speeds up the capture of the Nighthawk.”

  “It will, sir,” said Nimoux. “You have my word on that.” Though it did strike him as odd that capturing the Nighthawk was such an urgent priority for Intel Wing. Perhaps the Nighthawk carried intelligence that was even more sensitive than Nimoux had previously thought. “In particular I am interested in any ships near or inside the DMZ.”

  “I’ll submit your request. You should seriously consider including the ISS Phoenix on your taskforce. It’s on patrol in the Corridor and could be easily diverted.”

  “The Phoenix?” asked Nimoux. What an unusual suggestion. “Isn’t that ship currently under the command of Calvin’s former XO, Commander Anand Datar?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “With respect, sir,” said Nimoux, “involving Datar might produce a conflict of interest for him. I am not doubting his loyalty to the Empire... but I’m not so sure I can expect him to not be emotionally compromised in such an action. My best research indicates that Cross and Datar were friends for many years before serving toget
her, and that Cross hand-selected Datar to serve with him for his stint on the Nighthawk.”

  “Your concern is noted, Captain,” said the director. His lips curled into a slight smile. “I am hoping that involving Datar will have that effect on Calvin—that he will become emotionally compromised. As for Commander Datar, I assure you that he is trustworthy and willing to do whatever it takes. Let’s just say... he’s strongly motivated to bring Lt. Commander Cross in.”

  Nimoux would simply have to take Edwards’ word for it. “Very well, then. I’m sure that the Phoenix’s fighting capabilities will be an extremely useful addition to the taskforce.”

  ***

  Making sure that his office door was locked, Calvin sat down at his desk and accepted the secure call.

  “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you,” said Calvin.

  A familiar goateed face looked back at him quizzically. “You asked me to keep you informed.”

  “Of course,” said Calvin. “What’s this about, Grady? Did you find out more about CERKO? Like why they want to kill me?” Ever since the terrorist-turned-mercenary organization had tried to kill him on Aleator, Calvin hadn’t quite been able to figure how they fit into everything else. For that matter, he felt like he had far more mysteries than answers, and though he suspected that many of them connected, he just couldn’t make the puzzle pieces fit together. Not yet.

  “No, not about CERKO,” said Grady. “I told you, the insider we tracked down already paid the price.”

  Right. Now Calvin remembered. The Roscos had managed to kill their only lead while subjecting him to torture. “Then what is this about?” Calvin would be severely irritated if this was simply the Roscos’ latest attempt to satisfy the supposed ‘debt’ they owed him.

  “I thought you should know that there have been several complaints among some of the key traders on Aleator. A lot of things have gone missing. And they vanished about the same time that Asari Raidan’s people were here.”