The Phoenix Darkness Read online

  “They are, Your Highness, and there is more than enough water there for the population, once they manage to restore its purity. But, until then…”

  “Does Cygnus III have any excess water, or are they as behind on water as they are food?”

  “They have some excess water, Your Highness, but most of it is reserved for the rushed cultivation of crops.”

  “Order them to set aside a sufficient amount to be given over to the convoy we’re sending from Leo-Venetici in exchange for the food supplies. Have the convoy make repeat trips if necessary.”

  “Such an effort is dangerous and all convoys will be at the mercy of any Assembly patrols, or even pirates,” said Adiger.

  “Pirates?” Kalila furrowed her brow.

  “There have been strange reports, Your Highness. But I will see to it that your orders are carried out and that, should multiple trips be necessary, the convoys take different charted paths each time.”

  “Very good,” said Kalila. “Now, what of Ophiuchus?” Ophiucus was something of a crown jewel on the queen’s list of loyal systems. The Ophiucus system, while boasting nothing nearly so impressive as the Engineering finesse of the former Apollo yards, did lay claim to the largest natural supply of ores and minerals of all known types compared to any other system in the Empire. Such resources, which were desperately demanded for building and repairing starships and interstellar structures, were treasures beyond reckoning, and promised to become increasingly valuable as the battles continued.

  “I’m happy to report the system is stable, loyal, well-defended, and all mining operations are operating at full capacity,” said Adiger.

  That, at least, was some good news. “What about neutral-leaning or potentially disloyal systems; did our alleged defeat at Apollo shoo away any of our more important supporters?”

  “Difficult to say at this point,” said Adiger. “Carina, Pegasus Minor, Pisces II, and Capricornus are each systems worth keeping a sharp eye on. But, for now, none has taken any action, or made any statement that they are disloyal or uncooperative. They've just been…slow and cautious in their contributions to the war effort.”

  “Delicately put, Captain. How slow, exactly?” Kalila needed to know what she could trust and what she could not. And, unlike Captain Adiger, she could not force herself to speak only of the optimistic side of the cloud when there was a chance that, should she look underneath, it was grey and storming.

  “I’ll have reports made and sent to you directly, Your Highness.”

  “Very good.” Adiger saluted, clearly expecting to be dismissed, but there was another thing which, after a moment, he picked up on. “Something else, Your Majesty?”

  “Have you given any thought to Mr. Cross’s warning he sent us?”

  “Of course, Your Majesty.”

  “And?” Kalila sat up straighter, staring Adiger down with her regal gaze. “If he’s right and there is a fleet of Rotham warships able to slip through the DMZ and attack the Empire, what are we to do about that?”

  “My hope is that his intelligence is incorrect,” said Adiger, “or the attack is not so imminent that…”

  “We both know hope alone is no kind of defense at all,” said Kalila. “What do we do when hundreds of Rotham warships storm The Corridor? Those systems cannot defend themselves.”

  “With respect, Your Highness, many of those systems have declared for the Assembly or, even more commonly, have taken no side. How can we be expected to protect those subjects who do not recognize your sovereignty?”

  Typical, thought Kalila. Adiger was not a cold man, she knew, and he was choosing not to think of the devastation and slaughter of innocence he was essentially arguing they should allow to happen for purely pragmatic reasons. “We must look to the defenses of such subjects, whether or not they kneel before me now, because I am queen of an empire. And those systems, whether they know it or not, are part of that Empire. Now tell me, Captain, what sort of queen would I be if I cannot defend my own people?”

  Adiger looked at her as if he expected this to be some sort of trick question. “A pragmatic queen,” he answered, after a moment’s pause. Still, clearly, married to his idea of not throwing her forces, possibly to their demise, in defense of worlds which had yet to bow to her. But she could forgive him his pragmatism as he did not shoulder the weight she carried, nor the guilt. Deep inside, Kalila had demons who haunted her dreams, night and day, and would do all she could, including laying down her own life if absolutely necessary, to right the many wrongs which had unfolded before her. The wrongs she’d failed to stop, she had allowed. In most cases, she’d failed even to understand them, and the risks, before it was too late.

  “I would be no better than Caerwyn Martel,” she said, her voice firm as steel. “He looks to himself and his own, because that's what is good for him. What kind of monarch is that? This Empire needs a leader who will defend the whole of the Empire, and see to the needs of all. Not just the politically convenient, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Adiger looked trapped by the question, but gave his assent. Kalila even thought he meant it. Although she could tell the wheels of strategy were turning in his mind and he was doubtful committing to such an engagement would result in Kalila ever retaking her father’s throne. Should she fight the Rotham, her fleet would be decimated, if not destroyed outright. With what, then, could she hope to challenge Caerwyn Martel and the Assembly of fools he has under his thumb back on Capital World?

  “Then, it’s decided,” said Kalila, “should the Rotham threat appear, we will defend our countrymen.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  “But that doesn’t mean we absolutely must fight them alone,” said Kalila. “Now, tell me, how do I look?”

  Adiger looked taken aback by the question. “Regal, Your Highness,” was all he could make himself say.

  “I intend to send a message,” clarified Kalila, “and it’s important that I look my best and appear my strongest.”

  “Who is the message to?”

  “The entire Empire.”

  Chapter 2

  Repairs were ongoing at Taurus, but the Harbinger was beginning to look like the spectacle of death it was always meant to be. Each new battle brought it new scars, which added to its ferocious mystique and, as Raidan stared at the magnificent dreadnought through the window of the shuttlecraft, he couldn’t help but feel a chill trace his spine. She was still battle-damaged; there was no denying that. And it was clear, from the various tugs, bots, and other machinery working the starport that new armor was still being outfitted onto the ship, while other systems were repaired and replaced, each undergoing a series of tests and diagnostics.

  Raidan had mostly enjoyed his time on the red, oxidized surface of Taurus IV, inside the safety of the above-and-below ground biodome network, of course. Raidan considered himself to be rather well-travelled, but this had been something new. A desert planet, and a relatively minor one in the system, with a population of only ten-thousand, whose primary work was the excavation of an ancient society which had once inhabited what used to be a blissful, watery paradise. Now it was an archeological wonder lost under thousands, if not millions, of years of rust and sand. The bits visible from the excavation biome had proven an enjoyable, and necessary, diversion for Raidan.

  But now that he was returning to his ship, his home, and the fierce, monstrous warship had finally become visible, he truly felt there wasn’t a sight more stirring, nor so beautiful, in all the known galaxy.

  When he went aboard and found himself back inside the Harbinger’s spacious, grey corridors, bleak and efficient, he was welcomed by some of his senior officers, most of whom had reports to give and questions to ask. Raidan did his best to assist them as the group made their way for the elevators and ultimately the Bridge. It felt that, aside from the officer of the watch, which in Raidan’s absence would be Commander Mason, nearly every person of importance on the ship had been waiting to clamor around him to get his attention. Can
Mister Mason handle nothing while I’m away?

  There was one notable absence, however. Mira Pellew, who was not a member of the crew, but who cast a long shadow on the ship notwithstanding, was nowhere to be seen. Whether her refusal to greet Raidan upon his return had been intended as a slight, or if she simply had forgotten, it made no difference. Raidan would just as soon not see her either. Despite the number of killers, murderers, and truly desperate people he’d known and worked with over the years, only one person had actually given him pause to fear, and that was Mira Pellew. Whenever his eyes met hers, he didn’t see the “beautiful” amber irises which others claimed to see; no, all Raidan saw was a cold, black void, and all he could think was, danger. True, she was technically beneath him in rank inside the Organization, but he also knew that would never stop her from acting against him if it profited her. And, unlike her brother, whose loyalty was easily purchased with money, Mira’s loyalty was fickle and seemingly impossible to know for certain at any given moment.

  By the time he arrived at the Bridge, he stopped giving orders and instead took note of the fact that nearly every screen on the Bridge was occupied with an image of Queen Kalila Akira, dressed in a regal outfit, sitting at the command position of her Black Swan flagship, like it was some sort of military throne and, as she spoke, her tone and all her body language seemed to convey a sense of absolute authority and command. This is what we need in a monarch, thought Raidan, if the Empire is to survive. He hushed the officers next to him so he could listen.

  “…and that is why I address each and every one of you. Brothers and sisters; humans; citizens of the Empire. We are in grave danger. For, while we fight amongst ourselves, shedding the blood of our loved ones, family members, neighbors, and fellowmen, we are only weakening ourselves to the point where foreign militaries are now taking interest in us. Make no mistake, they aim to seize our territory, as history has shown us time and time before. They will take our worlds, enslave our children, burn our homes, and even slaughter us by the billions.

  “If we do not stand together, united, as one people, I can promise us no hope. For even as we speak, a Rotham invasion fleet is preparing to launch into our territory. The Alliance is no more. If we do not stand now, together, arms linked inside The Corridor, ready to repel the enemy, then no one will stop them. Praxis shall fall, Thetican shall fall, Korrivan shall fall, Brimm shall fall, and countless other worlds. And don’t think their hunger will be sated there. The enemy will push and capture all it can, including Capital World itself if we allow it. And by destroying ourselves in pitched battle and civil war, we are only enabling our enemies to destroy us. The time has come to unite against the common foe; the true enemy. Not human against human, or brother against brother. But man, woman, and child against any who would destroy us or take away our way of life!

  “We must unite! Rally to my banner and save our worlds! I hereby declare the re-instatement of the true Imperial Assembly and strip the Assembly of Capital World of all its powers and legal responsibilities, as it is clearly held hostage by a dangerous usurper. I invite all sitting Assembly members of the now defunct and illegitimate Assembly on Capital World to reach out to me and join me to sit upon the Royal Imperial Assembly. And to those planets who wish to elect new representatives, because your current ones are held hostage on Capital World and cannot or will not be recalled, I urge you to seek new leadership. Elect your officials and then send them to me. Coordinates shall be provided. Together, as monarch and elected Assembly, as the Empire was always meant to operate, we will save our worlds!”

  Raidan folded his arms, wondering just what intelligence the queen was referring to about a Rotham invasion which was imminent. Raidan himself had alerted the queen, thanks to Samil Cross and Tristan, that the Alliance was a deterrent of the past only, but he hadn’t had it confirmed the Rotham fleet was actually sighted and on its way.

  That must mean Calvin got through and got his messages out, thought Raidan. He felt a small measure of happiness to think Calvin was still alive out there and collecting good intelligence, but it paled in comparison to the revelation that the Rotham were going to attack imminently. If only they’d attacked before the battle at the Yards, thought Raidan desperately. We could have united then and chased them back to Ro with their tails between their legs. Instead, we butchered ourselves and offered our necks to the Rotham…

  Raidan had turned to go to his office, eager to contact Tristan, when the queen’s message abruptly stopped playing its loop, now replaced by counter propaganda. This time it belonged to Caerwyn Martel, who, although not seated upon the throne itself, not yet anyway, stood in the throne room as a symbolic gesture of his claimed authority as Steward of the Empire and denounced the queen and her warning.

  “To all my children from The Rim to the Capital, to the Far Clusters, and most especially to you in The Corridor, I, as Steward and Guardian of this Empire, am here to tell you, fear not! For there is no Rotham threat approaching our borders; I can promise you that.” Upon seeing Caerwyn’s self-regarding face, his eyes gleaming with power lust, Raidan felt a profound anger swell up inside him and he wished he had the means to dispatch an assassin and end the pretender, this man who singlehandedly might well destroy the Empire, putting an end to all the great wonders, marvels, and creations humanity had brought into the universe. Caerwyn was the epitome of everything wrong with the Empire: a liar, a sellout, vile, contemptuous, corrupted. He was a lord of the people rather than a servant of them. He hadn’t an ounce of patriotism anywhere in his blood and would likely sell children for organ-farming if it meant he got to line his pockets with a few extra Q. Hell, he probably already did that, and worse!

  “I have reports from Intel Wing and the Fleet, and they may be corroborated as I am releasing them to the public, which clearly indicate no Rotham presence visible by any Imperial listening post anywhere near the DMZ,” continued Caerwyn. That might be true enough, thought Raidan, but the Rotham fleet could easily be sitting and waiting inside Rotham space before blitzing through the DMZ and into The Corridor. And if Caerwyn thinks to wait until a listening post detects the fleet before marshaling a response…then his ignorance of war is even greater than I have imagined.

  “Kalila Akira is a liar and a criminal,” continued Caerwyn. “She has invented this pretense of danger, of Rotham invasion, in order to spread fear mongering throughout our systems, to rally support to her personal vendetta against the duly elected Assembly and against me, the Steward of the Empire, your protector. If she truly believed there were an imminent Rotham threat, she would race to Capital World, submit to the Assembly, and relinquish control of all of her forces so our great Imperial Fleet might be whole once more. But she does not do that. Instead, she hides on her ship like the coward that she is, and thinks to call a false Assembly—”

  “Shut off that drivel,” said Raidan. “I’ve heard enough.”

  Immediately, the screens on the Harbinger’s bridge went dark, or else switched back to their normal operations. He didn’t have to ask to know the propaganda was being sent Empire-wide, from both parties, and he expected to hear a lot more of the same in the foreseeable future. Though, even now, he’d had more than his stomach could take.

  Politics. Propaganda. It was enough to make him sick. He left the Bridge and welcomed the seclusion of his office. He locked the door, took off his jacket, and then went instinctively for the bottle of whiskey he kept on the desk. As usual, he opened the bottle and took a long stiff drink, not bothering to decant the whiskey because, after a good aging in a wooden barrel, what purpose could possibly be served?

  After downing the equivalent of two shots, he set the bottle down, pleased by the burn, and wiped his mouth. Normally, he was the type to pour bottle to glass, but today just was one of those days when he had no time for glasses…

  Tristan, I’d better hear from you soon, and with good news. We need that deterrent now more than ever.

  ***

  “And just a few
more seconds,” said Calvin to the overly crowded bridge of the Wanderer, which was really more like a cockpit. He sat in the pilot’s chair, having chosen to take a shift of his own.

  When they’d first arrived in Republic space, Calvin had been keen on having Alex at the helm, ready to respond to the bombardment of instructions and hails he expected their ship to receive. But instead, they were only given routine instructions regarding a necessary course correction, due to a minor anomaly, and were sent on their way. It turned out they weren’t the only tiny trading vessel making the rounds. While passing one interstellar hub, Calvin caught sight of hundreds, if not thousands, of other small trading ships. All Rotham, and no one the wiser. Their camouflage couldn’t have been more perfect. This had inspired extra confidence in Calvin, and so he relieved Alex of his duties once his shift was up, but wanting the Rotham to stay nearby. Now they’d strayed just far enough off their designated path that they were technically in military space. Once the vessel reached the coordinates that Calvin and Alex had predetermined to be their best observational vantage point, without making their presence too obvious, Calvin brought the ship to a full stop.

  “And if you’ll look out your windows, ladies and gentlemen, we have arrived,” said Calvin, climbing out of the pilot’s chair, making the congested Bridge feel even more claustrophobia-inducing.

  “Don’t you mean lizards and gentlemen,” said Miles, looking unapologetically at Alex.

  “Very droll, human,” said Alex. His tone was unpleasant, but he didn’t seem as annoyed or offended as he usually would have been by one of Miles’s insults. For that matter, Alex seemed to be in genuinely better spirits ever since they’d crossed into Republic space. Calvin could understand, on any assignment which took him away from the Empire for any length of time, he was always happy to be back, even if only for a short visit.