The Phoenix Rising Read online

  “Thank you, Sarah. Is there an estimate on when they’ll be finished?”

  “Another day should be enough.”

  “That’s good.” Upon arrival, Calvin had dismissed his crew and allowed them to disburse onto Gemini Station. He’d left a rotating skeleton crew of people he trusted to keep an eye on the repairs, but the rest were free to enjoy the services of the station and let their hair down. After the terrors they’d experienced in Abia, this short respite was the least he could do for them.

  Like most of the crew, Calvin had boarded the station and taken up temporary quarters. He’d barely left them during the past few days and had spent most of his time in contemplation. Trying to make sense of the situation he was in. And struggling to decide, among a list of applicants recommended by Raidan, which officers and civilians he would bring aboard the Nighthawk to replace the staff he’d lost in the battle of Abia. In addition to those who’d chosen to leave him and return to the empire. Washing their hands of his sins.

  “I still don’t like the idea of these aliens having their way with the Nighthawk,” said Sarah. “I don’t trust them.”

  “I understand,” he said. Even though her comment sounded racist, Calvin knew better. Sarah didn’t mistrust the Polarians because they were aliens—though the Polarians’ withdrawn nature and spiritualism did give them an air of mystery. Rather it was more an issue of trust in general. Their own leaders had been willing to sacrifice them. And they’d all watched the Imperial Fifth Fleet fire on its own ships, killing thousands of innocents. And strangest of all they’d experienced rescue by the very person they’d been tasked with hunting down and eliminating. So now everything was a disorienting jumble of upside-down and inside-out, and Calvin didn’t blame Sarah for having reservations. He had several himself.

  After rescuing them, Raidan had divulged much to Calvin, when pressed, but still withheld secrets—Calvin could tell—and now the mysterious renegade had disappeared once again. The moment their convoy had arrived at Gemini, Raidan had deposited Calvin’s wounded onto the station, sent along a message—including a strongly worded request for Calvin to hunt after some lost ship known as the Arcane Storm, and then Raidan and his stolen vessel, the mighty Harbinger, jumped away. Never communicating where he was going or why it was so urgent. Just that he regretted having to leave Calvin so soon but assured him he was “in good hands.” Leaving Calvin at the mercy of the supposedly trustworthy Gemini personnel, and of course the equally secretive Tristan. The lycanthropic Remorii who allegedly was there to help Calvin. The only person Calvin knew—if one could accurately call him a person—who could contact Raidan. So Calvin couldn’t dispense with him. Even though he hated Remorii. And would never forgive them for what had happened to Christine.

  “They might not have earned your trust yet,” said Calvin, “so it’s okay not to trust them completely. You don’t have to trust anyone who hasn’t earned it.” He knew she’d take his comment to mean the Polarians, but it was Tristan he thought of.

  “I’m sorry, Cal. I didn’t mean to sound so pessimistic. I just…” Sarah fumbled for words.

  “It’s alright. No one is that comfortable with the hand we’ve been dealt. But we have to make the best of it and let the chips fall where they may.” He glanced at the clock and let out a nervous sigh. “Go on, it’s almost time.”

  “Aren’t you coming?”

  “Yes,” he said. “But I have something to take care of first. I’ll meet you at the terminals with the others.”

  “Alright, Calvin. See you there.” She gave him an earnest look, trying to appear supportive and hopeful, but he could see through it. She was tired and confused. To her credit though, despite the exhaustion deep in her eyes, she was sticking by him. And for that he was grateful.

  Once she left, he went to the communication terminal and made an important call—one that had been on his mind all day. Because he was aboard the Gemini Station he couldn’t encrypt the message, so he was careful not to divulge too much.

  “I need to see you,” said Calvin. “Immediately.”

  “Yes, sir,” replied Rafael Te Santos, one of Calvin’s junior officers. He clearly had no idea what this was about.

  “Go to the Nighthawk, I’ll meet you there.” It was the only place Calvin could be sure wasn’t bugged by the Organization. Supposedly they didn’t run Gemini; it was an independent system belonging to the Polarian Confederacy. But the fact that Raidan had brought them here, and seemed to have tremendous clout and resources in this place—enough to order the secret repair of the Nighthawk—was evidence that the mysterious Organization had plenty of eyes and ears here. And the conversation he intended to have with Rafael was one he didn’t want them to overhear—for Rafael’s own safety. For that matter, no one else could be allowed to hear what he had to say.

  “I can be there in five minutes,” said Rafael.

  “Good. I’ll see you soon.”

  Chapter 3

  Calvin arrived to find the drydock emptier than he’d expected. The massive doors on the ceiling, which opened into space, were sealed tight and several dozen crews of Polarian engineers were tirelessly at work on the two ships and several shuttles parked on the gargantuan deck. Some of the other craft had been carved open, exposing their dark recesses and naked wiring structures, but Calvin had eyes for only one ship.

  The IWS Nighthawk sat very still, like a sleeping black falcon. Its contours—which had been burned and beaten during the fight in Abia—had been almost completely mended. Some of the patchwork on the outer hull was obvious, in places the sleek black metal had been replaced by grey or silver, but most of the scars were gone. And the ship looked about how Calvin felt. Reinvigorated and ready to charge back into the melee. Being cooped up here, on this alien station, was uncomfortable and unsettling. The ship and Calvin both belonged out in the stars.

  “Good to see you, sir,” said one of Calvin’s officers. He looked exhausted. Sweat drenched him and his skin was bright red, except for a streak of oil across his face. He was one of a handful of engineers from the Nighthawk that Calvin had left to oversee the repair operation.

  “Likewise,” said Calvin. “I trust everything is going well?”

  “Yes, sir. Repairs are going as scheduled.”

  “And our...” Calvin lowered his voice. “Friends. Have they cooperated?” He check to make sure the nearest Polarian was outside earshot. The thickly muscled, tall, blue-skinned aliens looked out of place in maintenance uniforms. They just didn’t seem to fit the engineering stereotype.

  “Yes, sir, they have cooperated to the letter.”

  “And have they done anything suspicious?”

  “Pardon my asking but, what do you mean, sir?” the officer looked curious.

  “Have they moved onto restricted sections of the ship, or made a download of our computers, or taken an inventory of our resources? Things of that nature.”

  “No, sir. We’ve kept an eye on them but, to their credit, they haven’t tried to do any such thing. They seem to be real decent folk.”

  Just then Calvin spotted Rafael Te Santos enter the deck. He was tall and thin, almost wiry, with tidy almond hair that was kept exactly as long as regulations allowed, and not a centimeter longer.

  “Thank you, that will be all,” Calvin dismissed the engineer.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Calvin met Rafael halfway. Once he was near enough to whisper he told him, “follow me, we’re going aboard the Nighthawk. I can’t say anything until then.”

  “Understood.”

  The two of them approached the ship, climbed one of the ladders mounted to the outside of the Nighthawk’s hull, and made their way through the hatch which was wide open. They passed a repair crew and followed the long corridor beyond the electric lanterns that had been set up to assist the work teams. Calvin withdrew the tiny flashlight he’d brought with him and used it to lead Rafael to the nearest room. It was a crewman’s quarters. Normally the door would only open fo
r the official occupant, or a computer override, but since most of the systems were powered down, and the door had been left partially ajar, Calvin was able to slide it open manually. Rafael helped him close it once they were inside. Then they both searched the room thoroughly, making sure no one was around to listen.

  “Satisfied?” asked Rafael. His tone was respectful but Calvin guessed the man thought Calvin was being overly paranoid. Perhaps so. But in this business that wasn’t usually a bad thing.

  “Yes. I suppose I am,” said Calvin.

  “So what is this about?”

  “Rafael, did I ever thank you for what you did for me?”

  “You mean hiding you from the soldiers during the mutiny?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t know if you did, I don’t remember. But it doesn’t matter; I’d happily do it again.”

  Calvin smiled. “I know I put you in an unfair position back there, but despite that you came through for me. Even risked your own neck. I want you to know you earned more than my gratitude back there. You earned my trust.”

  Rafael nodded. “I won’t pretend that it was an easy decision. But I’m glad I made the right one.”

  “Which brings me to the point of this meeting...”

  Rafael raised a curious eyebrow.

  “I need someone I can trust for an important assignment.” Calvin looked into his officer’s eyes, searching them. An abundance of sincerity reflected back in them.

  “As always, I’m honored to serve.”

  “Don’t volunteer too hastily,” said Calvin. “This is a dangerous mission.”

  “I didn’t join the service to play it safe, sir.”

  Calvin nodded. “I like that attitude. Now tell me, Rafael, do you intend to go with the others?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Are you returning to the empire with the others?” Calvin had chosen to allow anyone on the Nighthawk the chance to leave and return to the empire in its good graces. There was no point in forcing others to support his illegal actions, even if he did believe he was doing the right thing.

  Rafael seemed affronted by the question. “Of course not. I am no coward. I will do my sworn duty and defend the empire. Even if it takes from me my life. I will most certainly remain with you on the Nighthawk, sir.”

  “Are you sure I can’t change your mind?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I need someone to go with the others, pretend to disown me, and then use Intel Wing resources to feed me information. It’s extremely dangerous and there’s a high chance that anyone who takes the assignment will be discovered and executed.”

  “But,” said Rafael, “the intelligence that could be recovered would be invaluable.”

  “That’s right,” said Calvin. “Because of the risks involved, I am not ordering you to go. But I am asking you to consider volunteering. There is no one I trust more for this assignment than you.”

  “I’ll do it,” said Rafael with barely a thought.

  “Before you commit to this, make sure you understand one thing. If you run into trouble out there, and get found out, there is no help coming for you. You’re on your own.”

  “I understand,” said Rafael. “It carries risk. But that comes with the job. Staying with you on the Nighthawk has its share of risk too. I know this needs to be done and I’m honored that I’m the one you trust enough to do it.”

  Calvin gave Rafael a firm handshake and looked him in the eyes. “Thank you, Rafael. You are a good friend.”

  “It’s more out of duty to the empire than friendship, but I’ll accept the compliment anyway.”

  “I will give you a dossier of information I want you to begin investigating—if possible commit it to memory and destroy it. If you can’t do that then keep it closely guarded. I’ll also provide you with coded, restricted channels you can use to contact me. It would be less safe for me to contact you, so you will have to contact me.”

  “Otherwise you’d give me away.”

  “Exactly. I can prevent the comms array from identifying the Nighthawk as the source of the message, however, it would still be suspicious and someone would probably put it together.”

  “What is the subject of the dossier?”

  “I want you to begin an internal investigation of Intel Wing. I want to know who can’t be trusted and when they became unreliable. We need to dig into the corruption and root it out. The first step is to identify the compromised agents.”

  “Understood, though such an investigation will take an enormous amount of time. And might not be possible.”

  “Do what you can. You also need to investigate any information that exists inside Intel Wing archives regarding a group known as ‘The Phoenix Ring.”

  “Who are they?”

  “The notes I have on them, which aren’t many, will be in the dossier. I’d also like you to find out anything you can about Raidan’s organization.”

  “I’ll do all I can.”

  “Thank you, Rafael. Now we’d better hurry. The others have started gathering at the terminals and you have a shuttle to catch.”

  ***

  He knew their names, all of them. Knew their faces too, and their stories. Some of them he’d handpicked to be part of his elite crew. He wasn’t as close to some as he would’ve liked, but all of them he’d enjoyed serving with. Which made it hurt all the more to see them go.

  “You okay, Cal?” asked Sarah. She stood next to him as he leaned against the wall of the main terminal. Together they watched the embarking figures of former crewmembers. Fellow brothers and sisters of the IWS Nighthawk. Now leaving. Unwilling to take part in Calvin’s fugitive actions. He understood why. They had families to worry about, careers they couldn’t risk flushing away, and they didn’t know what was right anymore. But it still hurt to see them go.

  “Cal?”

  Only then did he realize Sarah was talking to him. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Oh yeah, I’m fine,” he said automatically, not even pausing to think about it. He shot Sarah a fake smile and looked back at the departing figures. The line of them had split into groups of four, each destined for a different shuttle and different destination. Sixteen of them in total. So many. They’d heard his pleas, including his most recent plea today to stay and join in the fight against the corrosive influence that had seated itself so deeply inside the empire. They’d also seen the betrayal at Abia, when human ships fired on other human ships, and had caught a glimpse of an alien battlesquadron illegally positioned inside Human space. Yet they would not be convinced. They’d made up their minds to wash their hands of Calvin Cross and Raidan and everything else. And nothing he could say to them now would convince them otherwise, so his last words had been reflective rather than persuasive. He’d thanked them for their service and wished them a safe journey. All of them. And hoped secretly that they’d never forget what they’d seen in Abia.

  “I can’t believe so many are leaving,” said Sarah. “But that’s okay, right? We’re getting reinforcements here aren’t we?”

  “Yes, we are,” said Calvin, thinking at least now he had an exact number to ask for. Between their losses at Abia and the surprisingly large number of defectors, the new crew would outnumber the original crew. A fact that was on everybody’s mind but no one seemed to want to talk about.

  “Can we trust them?”

  Sarah kept her voice tender, conscious of Calvin’s feelings. But her compassion was unnecessary, Calvin found himself asking her very same question in his head, over and over. Ultimately realizing that, trustworthy or not, he had no choice. Not enough of the Nighthawk’s original crew remained to fly the ship. Not if they ever intended to get any sleep.

  “If we are careful about who we bring aboard then yes, we can trust them.” Calvin tried to sound reassuring but doubted he’d convinced her. Sarah nodded and didn’t press the issue further. But Calvin guessed he could expect less grace from Miles who was bound t
o press him harder on this issue. Calvin had personally asked Miles not to attend the sendoff, for fear that he’d start a fight with some of the defectors.

  The last to disappear up the ramp and onto his shuttle was Rafael. He looked back once, very briefly, and then ascended the ramp like the others. Calvin was glad to know that at least one of the sixteen would’ve preferred to stay.

  “I know you’re depressed that so many are leaving,” said Sarah. “But I think most of them wanted to stay. They’re just afraid. If they really didn’t believe in you, they would have tried to bring the Nighthawk back to Intel Wing by force.”

  “Good point.” Although he suspected that decision had more to do with the fact that Captain Pellew had somehow convinced a majority of his special forces unit to stay. Still, Calvin was grateful not to be fighting his own shipmates again. One mutiny had been more than enough, and had nearly been the end of him.

  The horn sounded, alerting everyone to clear the deck so it could be depressurized for shuttle launch. Calvin looked over the four grey birds one final time, letting out a sigh. Then he followed Sarah to the gate. Expecting to never see most of those officers again.

  “Oh well,” he said, more to himself than to Sarah. “I suppose all good things end eventually. We were a good family.”

  “We still are.”

  ***

  Back in his quarters, Calvin finished typing a dispatch and sent it to Tristan. Now that Raidan was gone, the Remorii was Calvin’s only contact with the Organization. He’d made repeated requests to meet with the senior member on Gemini, but either Tristan refused to forward those requests or else he was being ignored.

  Along with the itemized list of all the specific supplies and personnel he hoped to requisition, he sent another request to meet with the head of the Organization on Gemini—this time more strongly worded. If the Org wanted him to hunt after the Arcane Storm—like Raidan had asked—they’d better be willing to play ball. If they ignored him, he threatened to take the Nighthawk elsewhere and not cooperate further. Truthfully, there was nowhere else for him to go, but it was important they not take him for granted.