The Phoenix Conspiracy Read online

  "Do they see us?" asked Sarah.

  "I guess we'll find out in a minute," said Shen.

  Calvin knew everyone was thinking the same thing. If they had been detected, was escape even possible?

  "Should I raise the shields?" asked Miles.

  "No," said Calvin. "Then they'll see us for sure."

  "Maybe they already do," said Sarah.

  "I think we should leave this system, immediately," said Summers. "If we still can."

  Calvin didn't like these options. "Shen," he said, deferring to his technology expert. "Is it possible for them to see us?"

  "I suppose anything's possible," he said, "but I have no idea how. We're not leaking, we're not giving off heat, the stealth system is activated... I don't know."

  "Not to mention they didn't seem to notice us before," said Sarah.

  "Or they ignored us until we moved right in the middle of them, like a mouse going for the cheese," said Summers.

  "Calm down, everyone," said Calvin. "There is only one ship moving right now. And since we're in the same direction as the planet, it's most likely the Rotham ship is just performing whatever regular task it's been assigned to do. Let's move out of its way, very carefully, and see what happens. Sarah, ninety-degrees pitch and give us a gentle push."

  "Aye, aye," she said. The planet moved across the window as the ship turned and moved away. But, to their horror, the approaching Rotham ship matched their maneuver, though it did not accelerate and no other ships moved.

  "Are their shields up?" asked Calvin.

  "Impossible to tell," said Shen. "They're still confusing our scanners pretty well. I could barely get a reading on the station."

  "Raise the shields now?" asked Miles.

  "No," said Calvin. "Increase our speed by double and turn another fifteen degrees. Let's see what they do."

  "Yes, sir," said Sarah and she complied. All eyes were glued to the projected display, watching as—at first—the Rotham ship continued on its course, but then changed direction and matched their maneuver exactly. Closer now than ever.

  "Shields up, now, please, please, please?" asked Miles.

  "I don't understand…” said Calvin, ignoring him. "They shouldn't be able to see us."

  "They're sure acting like they see us!" said Miles.

  "For once I agree with the buffoonish defense officer," said Summers.

  "Hey I resent that—"

  Summers talked over him. "We should clear for action and try to escape, now."

  Calvin didn't want to leave and he didn't want to raise the shields. If he did, the Rotham ships would be on him like a flock of vultures and even though the Nighthawk packed a mean punch, it couldn't take much abuse. They would all die, and everything they'd discovered would die with them.

  "I don't like this at all," said Shen.

  "Rotham ship's approach vector is set and closing," said Sarah.

  "We need a decision," said Shen, looking at him.

  "Rotham ship will totally block all possibility of escape in seven seconds."

  "If they haven't already," said Miles.

  "Six, five, four—"

  "Okay, okay," said Calvin. "Get us the hell out of here! Shields up and clear for action."

  "You got it."

  "Two, one—"

  "And Sarah," said Calvin.

  "Rotham ship has completely blocked our escape path," she said.

  "Do your magic."

  "I’ll do my best," she jammed the controls and accelerated the Nighthawk to the peak of its short-range ability. They couldn't flee via alteredspace jump from here, but, if they could get around the warship without dying or losing any major systems, they'd be all right. If anyone could pull off such an incredible feat of flying, it was Sarah, the cleverest pilot Calvin knew. Much better than he ever was.

  "They see us now," said Miles. "Enemy ships moving to intercept. If they clear another hundred thousand mc's they'll be in firing range."

  "Let's not let them," said Calvin. "We should be fast enough to keep that distance."

  "There's still the ship dead ahead," said Shen, he was scrambling to make sure all primary weapons and defense systems had adequate power and priority.

  Calvin watched the model of the Nighthawk soar to meet the enemy ship, which matched Sarah's maneuvers.

  "Thorpian Attack Cruiser coming about and bringing weapons to bear, launchers primed and beams are charging," said Miles. In the window they could see their metal adversary like a grey phantom in the distance, growing larger and larger. Then a surge of energy flashed their way as beams of charged particles crashed into them, superheating their shields.

  "How are we holding up?" asked Calvin.

  "Shields are steady," said Miles. "I'm more worried about missiles."

  Calvin nodded. If even one missile bypassed their shields and scored a direct hit on them, it could knock out a critical system. Ship armor was meant to deflect such attacks, but a stealth ship had little of it.

  "How many launchers can it lock onto us?" asked Calvin.

  "Ten," said Miles. Calvin's heart sank a little.

  "We'll clear the enemy ship in thirty seconds," said Sarah.

  "Or collide with them," said Summers. Her wide eyes were locked on the projected display. "They're matching us exactly. We can't get around them."

  "You underestimate me," said Sarah, banking the ship at a new, steeper angle. But the enemy ship still managed to match the maneuver.

  "Missile range in three seconds," said Miles.

  Calvin wished there was something more he could do. There was no sense ordering Miles to do what he was already doing, preparing to shoot down incoming missiles. And the last thing Sarah needed was a CO distracting her with needless commentary.

  "I won’t let any of the explosions detonate within our shield radius," said Miles boldly, perhaps more to himself than anyone else. Then he tensed and started pressing buttons very quickly. "Six incoming missiles."

  "Magnify," said Calvin to Shen, who adjusted the secondary display to project images of the incoming missiles.

  "They can launch about five missiles per three seconds," said Miles. "If they're willing to dump that kind of payload." While he spoke, several missiles collided with energy beams and gunfire too small to see. One by one they exploded harmlessly outside the Nighthawk's shield radius doing no damage. But before Miles eradicated the last one, more appeared. And three seconds later another wave came.

  "We're dead," said Summers.

  "Readjusting," said Sarah. "We'll clear in thirty five seconds now... hopefully..."

  "Thirty-five seconds, that's what... forty missiles?" asked Miles.

  "Much closer to sixty," said Summers.

  "Shut up," Miles barked.

  The model of their ship jerked into an evasive pattern, still aiming to out-maneuver and get past the attack cruiser—which tried to delay them long enough for its allied ships to arrive.

  Sarah was an expert with such masterful control of the Nighthawk, it was like the ship was an extremity of her own body. Between her incredible skill and Miles' targeting ability, they managed to survive the next wave. But more missiles were fast in coming, progressively closer to their mark before Miles managed to shoot them down. Now they were at the edge of the Nighthawk's shields and Miles' face was red and sweaty as he struggled to compensate.

  "Give me more space!" he yelled.

  "I'm trying!" said Sarah.

  Calvin thought only of what he could do to assist them. Which seemed like nothing.

  Of the newest five missiles, Miles managed to detonate three outside the Nighthawk's shields, but the fourth and fifth slipped through. One exploded inside, blowing off a chunk of the Nighthawk's armor.

  "No critical damage," said Shen.

  "You let another one get through!" said Summers, unable to contain herself as the fifth missile soared unhindered. But Miles was too busy targeting the next wave to care about the missile he missed. "Relax," he said. "It won't hi
t us."

  The fifth missile glided past them, a narrow miss. Miles flashed a grin and masterfully took down the next wave.

  "Miles, did I ever tell you how much we love you," said Calvin. "And how glad I am I bought your release from Praxis."

  "Yeah, you know how I said I'd pay you back?” asked Miles. "This counts. Worth every damn q and then some." He stiffened. "But if we don't clear this fast we won't make it. Our guns are starting to overheat and the beams are losing power."

  "I'm working on it," said Shen. "I'm draining all secondary systems."

  "It won't do any good," said Miles. "I need our guns. The two energy beams won't stop five missiles in time."

  "Come on," said Sarah, twisting the ship into an even more complex pattern of movements that the attack cruiser, which was so close it completely filled their window, could not hope to match.

  "Yes!" Sarah shouted. "We're above and going around them. I'm opening this all the way up," she accelerated the ship to its maximum and shot them forward like a deranged arrow. "Retreat vector calculated. We'll be clear for an alteredspace jump in five seconds."

  A cheer filled the bridge. But it was short lived. As soon as they moved past the attack cruiser, and it vanished from view, the sight was replaced by another ship exactly as large. It sat there, weapons primed, like it had been waiting the whole time.

  "What the hell?" asked Sarah.

  "How did we not see that before?" asked Calvin.

  "Jammed sensors," said Shen with a shrug of despair.

  "Can we still jump?"

  "No. Their gravity and proximity will mess us up."

  Miles let out an enormously loud string of profanities then said "—we'll be in range of their missiles in ten seconds."

  "Can you get us around it?" Calvin looked to Sarah, but knew their ship would never be able to out-maneuver both attack cruisers working together. And the other Rotham ships weren't far away. They were more trapped than ever.

  "I can try," said Sarah, but she didn't sound hopeful and cursed under her breath.

  The new ship unleashed a barrage of energy that slammed into the Nighthawk's shields, threatening to overpower them and bring them offline. It was such a brilliant display that Calvin had to look away from the window.

  "We can't take many more of those," said Shen. The bridge lights blinked as he switched them to tertiary power.

  Calvin knew they would never be able to outrun or outfight these adversaries. He removed his restraints and stood up, catching their attention. "Sarah," he said. "Tell them we surrender."

  "What?" she asked.

  "We surrender!"

  "I'd rather die on my feet with a sword in my hand than live on my knees," said Miles.

  "We're no good to anyone if we're dead," said Calvin. "Our only chance now is to offer our surrender and hope they take it."

  "And hope we survive captivity," said Shen.

  Once Sarah contacted the enemy ship, they accepted an unconditional surrender and transmitted instructions. The attacks stopped, but waves of Rotham starfighters deployed to doubly ensure the Nighthawk could not escape. A tractor-beam from the nearest ship latched onto them and pulled them in slowly.

  "Now what?" asked Sarah.

  They all looked at Calvin.

  "Now we have to act quickly," said Calvin. "Shen, we'll need to roll back the computers so our databanks are what they were before Praxis."

  His officers knew better than to question him until he was finished.

  "We'll make it look like Anand is still the XO, and Miles, you get to play Anand."

  "I don't look much like an Anand," he said. "But I'll do whatever you say."

  "Summers, you and someone from Special Forces will hide and we'll erase all evidence that either of you were aboard the ship."

  "Then what?" she asked. "We mount a two person assault on a ship that must have over three hundred soldiers?"

  "No," said Calvin. "Then you and our soldier discreetly plant and activate the silent beacon you brought aboard. That will alert the Fifth Fleet to our presence and also let them know we're on the Rotham ship so it can be boarded."

  "Okay," said Summers with a nod. "Let's do it."

  Calvin was almost surprised by her enthusiasm. "Better hurry."

  She sprinted for the elevator and disappeared below.

  "I give it a fifty percent chance they'll even see the beacon with the jammer in place," said Shen.

  "Better than zero," said Sarah.

  "The Fifth Fleet is coming here already anyway," said Calvin. "Because they want to track down the Nighthawk. My thinking is that they'll be able to see the beacon once they get here."

  "That's true," said Shen.

  "And if they see it from farther out, all the better." Calvin cleared his throat. "Open a simultaneous line to the Major and engineering." Once the line was established, he explained his plan as briefly as he could. Finishing with "—Summers is on her way as we speak."

  "I'll have to destroy a lot of our files in HQ," said the Major. "It's procedure. The aliens may not like it but it's what we have to do."

  "While you're at it, make sure you erase all evidence of whichever soldier you're sending with Summers and the beacon," said Calvin.

  "Now the question is who," said the Major.

  "I'll do it," said Pellew. "I'll go now. And when our ship is boarded we can hide in the secret containers Mitchell and Adams were discovered in."

  Chapter 28

  Once the Nighthawk docked with the attack cruiser, Calvin and his bridge crew went to the main hatch unarmed to await capture—as instructed.

  He stood with Sarah, Shen, and Miles in silence. Trying not to make eye contact with any of them. Whatever horrors awaited them on the Rotham ship—a people known for brutality—Calvin bore the guilt. Had his judgment been better, had he known more about the situation, he would have acted differently and spared them all what would come next: captivity, torture, perhaps even death. What kept him going was the hope that Summers and Pellew would not be found.

  The hatch unsealed with a snap-hiss and slowly retracted. "Here goes," said Miles.

  The first group of Rotham swept in, their movements lithe and swift—like lizards. Gold eyes shining, crimson scaly skin, black hair, and the distinct uniforms of the Teldari—the invasion force that raided so many worlds in the Great War. They held a variety of small arms, mostly energy rifles, and ordered Calvin and the others against the wall.

  Calvin raised his hands and the others followed his lead. They were searched and pushed along through the hatch and onto the deck of the Rotham ship's main hangar.

  Once they were clear, a column of about sixty Rotham Teldari swarmed onto the Nighthawk to turn everything upside down and capture everyone aboard. Calvin watched them go with a mixture of anxiety and forlorn regret. No Captain should ever have to see his ship taken by the enemy.

  "Move along," a rotham said, knocking Calvin in the back of the head.

  "Ouch!" He suppressed a wave of fresh anger as he looked at his assailant, a Teldari with a yellow collar—a captain. He was probably one of the few Rotham here that spoke Human. After their eyes met, Calvin looked away, not wanting to provoke the captain further. Instead, he moved forward—as directed—to the corridor.

  The hangar was a basic structure, almost boring in appearance; its only standout feature was how large it was. It could easily fit three Nighthawks. Most of the fighters stored here had been deployed making it feel empty, despite piles of crates and scattered equipment.

  A gun pressed into Calvin's back told him they didn't like him looking around. He put his head down and marched forward in silence, like they wanted. Surrounded by Teldari who looked grim and ready for violence.

  The detention block was strategically located near the hangar. Far enough away that a rogue prisoner couldn't slip off and steal a fighter, but close enough that new prisoners could be processed and locked up without much opportunity to escape or see ship operations.

&
nbsp; Before he knew it, he was in his cell. No bed. No chair. Not even tall enough for him to stand. He could sit on the floor, crouch, or lie down—curled into a ball. The Empire would never treat prisoners this way. And, unlike detentions on most Imperial ships, he was held in place by metal bars instead of a proper forcefield. Either to save money or to prevent prisoners from escaping in the event of a power failure. But the downside was that a practiced criminal might exploit a weakness in the lock and hinges. Too bad Calvin had no such talents.

  Straight across from his cell, with its limited view, was Miles. He gave Calvin a weird look—like a kicked cat. Calvin wasn't sure what it meant.

  "Do you think they'll feed us to each other?" asked Miles.

  Before Calvin could reply—or decide if he wanted to—one of the guards yelled at them, probably ordering them to be silent. His staccato language seemed impossible to understand. Calvin knew a few phrases of Rotham—it was a required course at the academy—but he didn't remember much beyond the inane and completely useless practice phrase, "The book is on the table."

  He heard footsteps and, by scooting over and arranging his head in such a way, Calvin caught glimpses of familiar faces marching with hands on their heads between forceful Rotham guards who—despite their height disadvantage—looked vicious and domineering. He saw Rose and his shift, other crewmembers he knew, and before long men and women in Special Forces uniforms. Last of all was the Major, who they pushed into the cell next to his—out of sight.

  The top ranking rotham had some kind of alien discussion, but whatever they talked about was totally incomprehensible to Calvin. After one dismissed the others, and most of the Teldari filed out, the same captain in yellow collar approached Calvin and bent down to look him in the eyes. He uttered something that sounded like gibberish.

  Calvin said nothing. Only stared into his adversary's golden eyes, unblinking.

  "You don't speak Rotham?" the captain asked, now in Human.

  "Nope."

  "A pity. Your language is... limited. But it will have to do."

  Calvin said nothing.

  "You're the Captain?"

  "I am."

  "And that is your first officer?" he waved a toned arm toward Miles' cell.