The Phoenix Conspiracy Read online

  "Well... there's not much to me," he said. "I like all sorts of music. No genre in particular. My favorite food is sushi. My favorite color is green.” He didn’t say it but it was the same deep shade of green that was in her eyes. “And I like hiking and swimming..." he tried to think of all the stupid get-to-know-you-in-two-minutes-type questions he always ran into. "I like... puzzles..." Unable to think of any more he shrugged. "What about you?"

  She inched closer ever so slightly. He felt his heart quicken.

  "Puzzles?" she laughed and it made him laugh.

  "Hey there's nothing wrong with puzzles," he said, throwing his hands up.

  "Sure, if you're in a retirement center," she smirked. He liked the banter. It helped him relax around her.

  "What about you?" he asked again, trying to think of something incriminating about her. He couldn't come up with anything.

  "My favorite color is blue and my favorite music is classical," she said. "And my favorite drink is a variety of white wines." She emphasized the last word. "What's your favorite drink, Calvin?"

  "Water," he said. She seemed disappointed by his answer.

  "You like water more than wine?"

  "I'm afraid so," he made a weak grin. Her eyes tested him, then she changed the subject.

  "So what brought a hiking, puzzle-playing, city boy like you all the way out here?” she asked. When he didn't answer right away she clarified. "Why did you join the military?"

  "That's an interesting question," he let out a sigh. He liked this side of her. It had been too long since he'd been in such enjoyable company and seeing her take interest in him—though a part of him wondered if it was all a façade—felt good. But just because he liked it didn't mean he was about to roll over and make himself an open book. "It was my best option," he hoped to leave it at that.

  "What do you mean your best option?"

  "No, no, that's enough about me," he said. "What about you? Why did you join the navy?"

  "Okay, the truth..." she paused. "I met someone. Dark eyes and gorgeous black hair. Killer smile..." Calvin automatically hated this person, whoever it was. But he smiled anyway as she spoke.

  "I was young," she paused briefly. "And sort of... impressionable. When I was about seventeen this nineteen year old midshipman boarded at our house for awhile. He'd talk about the stars and seeing exotic places and how much he loved not just being in the Empire but actually a part of it." She laughed. "He told me all these ridiculous stories about how romantic and adventurous the navy was... I know now how silly and wrong they were. Military life isn't even close to how he described it."

  "You know what they say, hindsight is 20/20."

  "Yeah..." she said, musing, lost in her past. "But I'm still glad I joined. Even if midshipman Howe was completely full of hot air. My father," she laughed again. "He wasn't happy about it. Of course, he didn't like anything about Edward. Especially when we spent time together."

  "Edward?"

  "Midshipman Howe. His name was Edward... and he was my first. You never really forget your first, do you?"

  Despite himself, Calvin felt a ping of jealousy hearing her talk about Edward Howe. And a little anger. He didn't like it; it was unbecoming, but... still... seeing Summers there next to him. Thinking of how beautiful she was. And thinking of some older navy officer spinning stories to take advantage of her. It bothered him. He'd always hated guys like that. And for reasons unknown to him, they always seemed to get the girl—in the end.

  "Who was your first?" she asked.

  His eyes widened. "That's a rather personal question, don't you think?” he asked. It was automatic. This wasn't a subject he'd ever been comfortable talking about.

  "I'm sorry," she said and suddenly he felt bad. He didn't know what it was, but the look she gave him, it pierced right through him and somehow, it became very hard to not be as open with her as she was with him.

  "I only ever had one," he admitted. "Christine was my first and my only. Don't get the wrong idea. I had several relationships growing up... but... they were all empty," he looked away. Several choice memories flowed through his mind followed by a parade of unwanted ones. He had many regrets.

  "So where is Christine now?" asked Summers.

  He swallowed hard and, for a moment, debated whether or not he should tell her the truth. It had been years since then and mostly he’d managed to block out the memory, but lately it had haunted his dreams night and day, making him wonder if closure was ever really possible.

  "You remember that story I told you, about the Trinity?" She nodded and he continued. "The young woman at Ops, the one who was infected and died later at the hospital... her name was Christine."

  Summers didn't say anything with her mouth, but her eyes spoke volumes. And, very tenderly, she placed her hand closer to his. Not touching his, but almost. She hesitated. Like she wasn’t sure it was the right thing to do. But Calvin took her hand and held it, drawing comfort from its warmth.

  "We met when I came aboard. In fact, we were in the same transfer. And we really hit it off right away, she was very playful and fun," he shook his head once, feeling hot dry tears burn behind his eyes. "God, I loved her. Everything about her." He was again staring off into the blackness of space, wondering if that's where she was now. Some kind of peaceful, mindless, bliss.

  "We—" he couldn't get himself to speak further. In part because he'd never really confronted the memory of their time together. It was still too painful. What was a few years later anyway? It felt like nothing. And Calvin didn't want to appear weak or overly sentimental in front of Summers. He bit his tongue and kept his emotions inside.

  She came even closer, until she was pressed up against him. He felt her warmth against his shoulder and against his leg. He wanted to reach around and hold her so much... but he resisted.

  When he felt he'd regained his composure he looked her in the eyes once more and, to his surprise, he thought he saw conflict in her. Uncertainty. And then it donned on him that she might be regretting this little heart-to-heart chat she'd initiated. Perhaps he'd said too much.

  "I'm sorry if I went overboard there," he made a half-hearted attempt at a laugh and wiped his left eye.

  "No, no, it's not that," she hesitated. "Do you ever think... have you ever had to do something that felt wrong and you hated having to do it, but you knew you had to, like you had no other choice?"

  He thought about her question for a moment. At first wondering why she asked it. Was her mind conflicted over something or was she just trying to change the subject from where it had strayed? Perhaps both.

  Then he considered the question itself and said, "I think sometimes we do what we have to do. Medicine can taste bad. Physical therapy can hurt..." he looked into her eyes "or apologizing to someone and making peace with them, that can be hard too." Strangely, she looked away when he said that. That bothered him and he let go of her hand. But he didn't move away.

  There was an awkward pause and he started thinking it was best for him to escape the situation. He'd make sense of it all later, if that were even possible, but now he needed to get away. He started thinking of excuses but before he could use one she spoke again. "Look at us..." she glanced up at him with a weak smile, their reflections were somewhat visible on the window’s surface. He returned the smile gently.

  As he thought of his excuse to leave, and thought the peaceful silence was the perfect opportunity to get away, he couldn't get his mouth to open. Feeling her there, how warm she was, and being able to open up about things that he'd kept bottled inside for years... it was hard to walk away from that kind of comfort.

  So, as he went to explain why he should go he ended up saying, "What about Raidan?"

  "Raidan?" She looked genuinely confused, not defensive.

  "It's obvious to me that Raidan, what he did, affected you deeply. You had some kind of feelings for him. What were they? What are they? What is he to you?" She seemed surprised by the questions and, honestly, he was too. Bec
ause it took her off guard she withdrew, just a bit, before answering.

  "In the past, Raidan was a mentor and a friend. And we were … close, once. But not anymore. That ended when he showed his true colors and hurt a lot of innocent people."

  "How close were you?"

  "We were never really... you know. We'd spend a lot of time together, and talk and... he manipulated me. Made me believe we were building something, the two of us. But he became more and more secretive. And he lied to me," she closed her eyes, jaw clenched. "He lied to all of us. Again and again. And we didn’t know it, we trusted him. Then one day he ordered the ship to do terrible, terrible things and... I just let it happen."

  Calvin actually felt pity for her. And, for the first time since she'd arrived, he understood why she'd kept such a hawk eye on him. Not just because she wanted revenge on Raidan, though that was certainly true, but because she didn't want to repeat past mistakes. And now here he was, another CO keeping secrets from her, and he too had ordered the ship to go dark. If only she could understand why he did what he did. He tried to find words to explain it to her. But he feared they'd start an argument and erase the beauty of the moment.

  "I said too much," Summers looked down. And then, without thinking about it, he stepped behind her and massaged her shoulders. She was extremely tense. She retreated at first, ever so slightly, then she encouraged him.

  He could feel her relaxing as he rubbed her for several minutes and they made small talk. He tried the whole time to keep his mind from thinking about her body, but smelling her hair and feeling her soft back and shoulders... he lost sight of himself. And before he really understood what had happened, he took her by the arm and, as she turned, he pulled her in tight. She cooed and he began kissing her. Just as his hand slipped to her waist she pulled away.

  "Stop," she said gently. He didn’t know what to think and let go of her completely. Just as he felt ashamed for letting it happen, she grabbed him by the hand and with a smile said, "not here, let's go somewhere else."

  They moved quickly through the corridors, resisting the urge to run. Wanting to keep up proper appearances, they made a silent agreement not to touch in the halls, not even hold hands. Before long they were in her room. As the door closed he went after her but she stopped him.

  "Not here."

  "Why not?"

  "The walls are paper thin; let's go to the captain's quarters."

  "Okay," he said, excited by the idea of satiating his appetite for her. Even though a tiny alarm inside him was urging him to slow down. This is too fast. This can't be right. He ignored it and asked, "so why are we here?"

  "To get this," she opened her small liquor cabinet. In it were two low-proof bottles, the maximum allowed for an officer on a starship.

  Before Summers could, Calvin reached in and snatched a bottle. "Okay, here we go then."

  "No," she snapped. Her reaction was sharp enough to take him off guard. But she softened immediately. "No, it has to be this one." She took out a separate bottle and made him return the one he had. Then, together, they left.

  They passed two crewmen and Summers made no effort to hide the wine in her hands—Calvin had no idea where she could hide it anyway. Instead she spoke up so the other officers could hear. "And then, Captain, I found this contraband in his room!" she barked.

  Picking up immediately, Calvin replied. "Now, now I don't think there's any need for serious discipline."

  Once they were alone again they both snickered. "Did you see the look on their faces?"

  They soon arrived at his quarters and, just before pressing his thumb to the plate, Calvin remembered the bottle of equarius sitting open on the desk.

  He hesitated. Part of him wanted Summers so unbelievably bad he would have done almost anything. But another part held back, reminding him of the consequences. If she did find the equarius... that would be the end of everything.

  She seemed to notice his hesitation. "What's the matter?"

  "Oh nothing," he said and pressed his thumb to the plate, certain he could dart into the room and stash the pills away before she could get a good look at them.

  ***

  Summers watched Calvin unlock the door and race inside. Was he really as eager as all that? He didn’t seem the type to be that desperate, it was unbecoming.

  Once inside, she saw him pick something up from the desk and stuff it away in his safe. It looked like pills. She raised a curious eyebrow.

  "What was that?"

  "Just a prescription," said Calvin with an innocent shrug as he hurried back over to her. The door slid shut, leaving them alone. She made it a point to look around the apartment before he could make his move on her. It was somewhat messy but not overly so, though his bed wasn't even made and he still had a couple of boxes he hadn't unpacked. At least the room didn't smell bad.

  To her dismay, nothing incriminating was in sight. Calvin didn't even have a liquor cabinet. And the only drinks, true to his word, were water bottles.

  In hardly a moment, he was there again, reaching for her. She stopped him. "Wait a sec," and popped the cork. The bottle smoked a bit, giving the authentic impression it had never been opened—something she’d achieved by injecting her surprise through the cork rather than removing it.

  She offered him some. "Go ahead and drink it right out of the bottle," she gave him the sexiest smile she knew how to give. His eyes lit up and he returned the smile, but refused the drink.

  "I really hate the stuff, can't stand it."

  She felt her heart race. She'd come way too far for this plan to fail now. "Come on, smell it," she said. He took a whiff and started coughing. Her mind panicked, seeking a way to salvage the situation if she couldn't get him to take a drink.

  "I was hoping we'd drink it together," she said with big eyes and a pouty face. She absolutely hated resorting to that but Calvin was making this hard. And she was so very close.

  "Sorry, love," he said.

  She paused for a moment, he'd called her love. That bit her, so she blinked it from her mind. Must focus on the mission!

  She took a large drink herself, careful not to swallow, and then invited him to take her in his arms. He scooped her up like a feather, the quick motion almost causing her to spit out the wine.

  The two of them collapsed to a sitting position on his bed and she pulled off his shirt. He gave her a firm squeeze and pulled her even closer. As soon as she felt his hands under her blouse she knew this could go no further. She pressed her lips against his in an open mouthed kiss.

  It must have been surprising for him to get a mouthful of wine laced with chloral hydrate. He stiffened up and made a slight effort to disentangle himself from her to spit it out, but she wouldn't budge and kept kissing him until he swallowed.

  After that it was just a matter of keeping him shy of second base until his grip slackened and he passed out. "Thank god," she said as he finally lost consciousness. She removed herself from his now empty embrace and stood up.

  She wasn't sure how long the effect would last, but felt safe taking a minute to brush herself off and wash up using Calvin's sink. She hadn't worn any makeup on purpose so it wasn't too much effort to clean her face and smooth out her clothes. But seeing her hair made her frown. It would’ve been difficult to set properly. She just put a rubber band in it and wore it up.

  Feeling a bit more like herself, she set to task combing over the apartment. She opened drawers, checked under the desk and the bed, browsed through the boxes, but ultimately didn't find anything incriminating. That only left the safe and Calvin had sealed it tight.

  With a heave, she gripped his wrist with both hands and yanked him off the bed and onto the floor. She half expected him to wake up but he was still out cold. She dragged him along the floor until they were close enough for her to press Calvin's thumb against the plate. It beeped its approval and unlocked. She popped it open.

  To her surprise, and mixed delight, she saw a mountain of pill bottles. They were kept in tra
nslucent orange containers that were unmarked. One was open and half gone. She pulled out her tiny camera and took a picture. Intending to take it, and a bottle of pills, to the lab on the lower decks. Her guess was that after they analyzed the chemicals it would be discovered that Calvin had possession of illegal drugs. That was more than enough to take his command away.

  She felt a surge of victory swell her lungs, but it was a bittersweet victory.

  As she looked at him... crumpled on the floor, and thought of what he'd said to her on the observation deck... she couldn't just leave him like that. She spent the next minute or two dragging him back and hoisting him onto his bed. She didn't go out of her way to make him comfortable, but she couldn't stand seeing him on the floor. When he was back in place, or close enough, and she didn't feel as bad, she headed for the lab.

  Chapter 22

  Monte Blair couldn't sleep after Summers had torn into the infirmary and demanded to speak with him. The audacity of that woman to demand he declare Calvin unfit for command, it was... unthinkable. Calvin was a good friend of many years. And Monte didn't make it his business to judge what Calvin did with the ship and crew.

  Having the XO make demands of him helped nothing. He had enough on his mind as it was. Trouble with the Khans. And, as he lay still, he wondered whether the new cartel leadership would kill him. Or if his lung condition—which was worse than he let on—would do him in first.

  He wasn't as much in the dealing game as he used to be. He only had two people under him now, and they were stealing from him; he knew it, but could do nothing about it. He was an old man with a cane, on the other side of the galaxy. Hardly intimidating.

  For the millionth time he thought back on his glory days and wished he hadn't taken as many hits over the years. He’d turned to drugs initially to latch onto something that could offer him peace of mind, something that could keep him going when the world felt too heavy. And, for a long time, the drugs had worked, or seemed to. But then, as if overnight, everything came apart. His life, his mind, his body... He wasn’t sure exactly when he realized the drugs were hurting him permanently but it had been too late.