The Phoenix Rising Page 32

  “Come on, Tristan,” yelled Calvin.

  Tristan ignored him and continued fighting. Blood soaked nearly every inch of him. He let out a cry of pain as one of the Remorii’s blows connected with his jaw. But he kept fighting. Ripping the perpetrator apart limb from limb.

  “We have to go, now!” yelled Pellew.

  No response from Tristan—who was gradually becoming surrounded. Calvin reloaded his rifle and fired in Tristan’s direction, close enough to get his attention but not risk hitting him. If the lycan noticed, he gave no sign. He continued struggling with three different Remorii, and his brutal, inhuman strength was starting to fail him.

  “We don’t have time for this,” said Pellew. He raised his carbine and shot Tristan in the back of the arm. The werewolf howled with pain and turned to face them. His eyes glowed brighter than Calvin had ever seen them, his face thoughtlessly feral. For a moment it looked like he was going to leap over and slaughter them, but then recognition came over his eyes and his senses returned.

  Pellew pointed at the ladder. “Go!”

  Tristan seemed to understand and, as he fought his way free and came toward them, ready to escape this world, Calvin began ascending the ladder. Knowing that Pellew and Tristan weren’t far behind. Once he was aboard the gunship, a wave of relief rushed over him. But his heart still beat like a machine gun in his chest and he was thoroughly winded. Once we finally get off this godforsaken rock I’ll feel a lot better.

  “Seal the hatch as soon as Pellew and Tristan are aboard,” he instructed the nearest person, a Polarian who was bandaging his wounds as best he could with the gunship’s limited medkit. Most of the other survivors were crowded around him, piecemeal bandages did a poor job of covering all their injuries. But it would have to be enough. Sadly, not many had survived. Though the diminished weight would at least help them escape the planet faster—even in death the Polarians were giving all they could to help.

  Calvin went past the huddled mass of survivors and into the cockpit where he took the pilot’s seat immediately.

  “The engines are hot and ready for launch,” said Miles. The big fellow didn’t look at Calvin, he was too intently focused on the guns. Which were firing incessantly at the endless hordes of Remorii—nearly to the point of overheating. Yet the bastards kept coming. Even now he could see them out the windows. Leaping onto the ship’s outer hull, hopelessly clawing away at the armor plating. What drove them to pursue their quarry so obsessively? Calvin had no idea. And he wondered if they were attracted to danger—did they want to die?

  Miles ducked involuntarily as a particularly gruesome Remorii landed on their window, slowly sliding down, leaving behind a trail of blood.

  “Be glad you weren’t out there,” said Calvin.

  “Thank god we have these guns!” Miles fired the gunships weapons some more, no doubt slaughtering more Remorii. “See, I knew this was the right gunship to take!”

  Calvin agreed. The lighter gunship might not have been able to survive such a beating, and certainly its weapons wouldn’t have provided as much cover.

  “The hatch is sealed. Everyone’s aboard who’s coming aboard,” said Rez’nac. He knelt on the floor of the cockpit next to Shen, who lay unconscious. Rez’nac seemed to be giving Shen first aid treatment as best he could with their limited medical supplies.

  “Roger that,” said Calvin. He began releasing the landing clamps and fired up the ascension engines. “Brace yourselves, this is going to be a bumpy ride.” With that, he gave the gunship maximum thrust and catapulted them skyward with a powerful lurch that slammed everyone back. The gunship had one inertial damper that protected them from some of the most severe gravitational forces, but it wasn’t very effective. Calvin felt nauseous but kept their ascension steep, almost to the point of stalling, as he re-angled the gunship.

  “Oh god, I’m going to be sick,” said Miles.

  Calvin didn’t dare look back at him and instead kept his focus on the controls and the view out the window. They were in a thick of dark clouds. If not for the computer, Calvin would have had no sense of orientation whatsoever. He heard a few of the passengers in the back dry-heaving and vomiting. It wasn’t long before the nasty smell wafted its way into the cockpit. Calvin himself felt like puking but managed to fight the instinct. He wanted to put the climate helmet back on but didn’t dare let go of the controls for even an instant.

  The clouds gradually thinned and the gunship pushed above them. “Entering the stratosphere,” said Calvin. “ETA... just over seven minutes.”

  “Wha... Where...?”

  Calvin glanced down to see Shen. He seemed groggy and confused but he was conscious. His torn sleeve was rolled back and it was clear Rez’nac had injected him with something.

  “He needs to stay conscious to fight the infection,” said Rez’nac. “That’s his best chance.”

  “Shen!” said Calvin excitedly. He’d feared that he would never see his friend alive again... though Shen’s gaunt face and several injuries made it clear he was not out of the woods yet. If recovery was even possible. “Stay with us, buddy.”

  They continued their ascent for another minute and a half without any problems. Calvin dared a glance at Shen whenever he could, and tried to keep his injured friend alert with conversation. But it was clear that unconsciousness was lurking just around the corner, threatening to overpower him. And the fighter’s instinct in Shen’s eyes was withdrawn, like a part of him wanted to just give up and die. End the suffering once and for all. Calvin couldn’t let that happen.

  “Stay with me,” said Calvin, wishing he could go to his friend. But he knew he had to keep piloting. They’d be on the Nighthawk soon, he reminded himself; Shen could get help there. He thought of Christine, how all the medical assistance in the galaxy hadn’t been enough to save her and... he closed his eyes for a moment and pushed the awful memories from his mind. Shen was going to be okay! They all were.

  Calvin found himself wishing Sarah was there as he put the old gunship through some dangerous, highly aggressive maneuvers to escape the planet. Calvin was a fine pilot, and he had full confidence in himself, but Sarah was superior.

  “Do you smell that?” asked Rez’nac.

  “What?” asked Calvin. And then he did smell it. “It’s like something’s burning.”

  “What is that?” asked Miles.

  The craft jolted and began to spin. Calvin cut the second engine, realizing he’d lost one of his main thrusters. He managed to keep the vessel from flipping upside-down but their ascent stopped and they began to drop like a stone, back towards the surface of Remus Nine.

  Calvin cursed, trying to restart the lost thrusters, and Miles threw up about a day’s worth of food. His vomit sprayed all over his console and Calvin’s uniform.

  “We’re dead... we’re dead...” Miles began saying over and over.

  “No, we’re not!” said Calvin, trying to urge the systems back into a functioning state. Their descent accelerated and they found themselves subject to intense gravitational forces. Calvin and Miles were held in place by their straps but Rez’nac and Shen began to float, as if weightless. The strange experience seemed to jog something in Shen’s mind and, once again, he seemed coherent.

  “Shen, I could really use your help about now,” said Calvin. Their ship plunged back into the dark, stormy clouds. Fast spiraling them to their imminent deaths. Calvin adjusted the flaps, trying to slow their descent, but it was only partially effective.

  Bracing himself against the bulkhead, Rez’nac managed to push Shen over to Calvin, who caught the ops officer by the wrist and helped him get his grip on the console.

  “You need to...” Shen looked strained as he spoke. He began adjusting some of the controls and Calvin did his best to keep Shen from floating away. “Manual override...” Shen made several adjustments, but it was clear that he was fading fast. Falling in and out of consciousness in the blink of an eye. “Now restart the system.”

  Calvin did
. He cut all power and restarted the main computer, saying a little prayer to any god that would listen—hoping the fifty year old equipment would even turn back on.

  “I KNEW we should have taken the other gunship!” shouted Miles.

  In the blink of an eye, the system restarted, all the consoles flickered back to life. Calvin fired the thrusters and found them responsive. He rapidly stopped their deadly plunge and angled them back toward the sky.

  “Thank the Essences...” said Rez’nac.

  No longer in a deadly plunge, the illusion of zero gravity was gone and Shen and Rez’nac both crumpled to the floor. The beat up old Polarian still had plenty of fight left in him, but Shen seemed spent beyond repair. His consciousness faded and, despite all of Rez’nac’s efforts to rouse him, he would not awaken.

  “Okay, now our ETA is ten minutes,” said Calvin. “Miles, contact the Nighthawk. We should be far enough from the planet’s surface to get a signal out now. Have them pick us up once we’re clear of the outer atmosphere. We don’t have time to dock with the orbital station.”

  “You got it, Cal,” said Miles.

  “And tell them to have medical assistance standing by at the airlock,” said Calvin. He looked down at Shen, whose body showed the early signs of Remorii infection. “And security,” he added, regretfully.

  “Hopefully the Nighthawk is still out there,” said Rez’nac.

  “It’d better be,” said Calvin. But he knew as well as the others did that they might be flying right into the jaws of the Rotham fleet instead.

  Chapter 26

  “Sir, message coming in from the planet,” said Sarah. “It’s the shore party!”

  Thank God. Summers felt a wave of relief pour over her. She’d been inches from giving the order to attempt to run the blockade, and leave Calvin and everyone else behind. Believing that she’d lost him, that young, stupid boy... it surprised her how much anguish that made her feel. And how stubbornly she’d refused to abandon him, even to the point of endangering her life, and those of the crew. Of course, it’s only natural. I need Calvin to help me purge the fleet of corruption. Yes, that’s why.

  “They are in a gunship that is about to break free from the planet,” Sarah went on. “We’re ordered to dock with their vessel ASAP. They are sending coordinates.”

  “Tell them we acknowledge the order, then set course for those coordinates,” said Summers.

  “Aye, aye.”

  “You realize that by approaching the planet we will be withdrawing from the mine field,” said Cassidy.

  “Yes, I understand,” said Summers. Knowing that they were about to abandon their fast-diminishing hiding place. “That is why we must retrieve our people as quickly as possible.”

  “They are calling for medical and security teams to meet them at the hatch,” said Sarah.

  “Comply with all requests,” said Summers. “ETA to rendezvous?”

  “Two minutes.”

  “Security?” asked Cassidy. “What are they bringing back with them?”

  Summers was equally baffled. “I suppose we’ll see.”

  ***

  “The Nighthawk is on our scopes again,” said the ops officer. “It’s emerging from the mine field.”

  “About time they saw reason,” said Nimoux. By this point over half the minefield had been destroyed. “Commence capture operations.”

  “Sir, the ship is heading away from us, not toward us,” said the ops officer. “It’s flying toward the planet.”

  “Toward the planet?” Nimoux raised an eyebrow.

  “It is on an intercept course with a small shuttlecraft.”

  “Ah, so they sent a team down to the surface,” said Nimoux, wondering what was so important on that nightmare-infested rock to risk life and limb to see in person.

  “Apparently so,” said the ops officer.

  “Now that they’re clear of the mines, we can use a missile to knock out their engines. Are they in weapons range?” asked Nimoux.

  “No, sir,” said the defense officer. “Not even our long-range ordnance can strike them from this distance. The ship’s stealth system is still engaged and would prevent a missile lock from this far away. I believe we’re the only ship in the squadron that can even detect the Nighthawk.”

  “Very well. Ops, transmit the coordinates and vector of the Nighthawk to every ship in the squadron. And keep them updated on the ship’s position.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Shall I order the fleet to converge on the Nighthawk?” asked the pilot.

  “No,” said Nimoux. “Tell them to hold position. I don’t want to give the ship a window of escape. Have them continue blocking every alteredspace trajectory from the planet.”

  “Understood.”

  “And what are our orders, sir?” asked the defense officer.

  “Ops, can you confirm that the Nighthawk is a safe distance from the remaining mines?” asked Nimoux, wanting to be doubly sure.

  “Affirmative.”

  “Good. Destroy the remaining mines. Let’s deprive the Nighthawk of its hiding place. With the minefield wiped out, they will have no choice but to surrender or be destroyed.” Nimoux sincerely hoped Calvin would choose the former.

  ***

  The elevator door opened and Calvin stormed out onto the bridge, Miles at his side. Sarah lit up when she saw him and even Summers, who was sitting at the defense post for some reason, seemed relieved.

  Sarah looked past them, toward the empty elevator. “Where’s Shen?”

  Shen had been rushed to the infirmary, under heavy guard. Along with the rest of their surviving shore party, nearly all of whom had sustained injuries requiring immediate treatment. Calvin had taken several cuts and bruises, and had a severe headache, but wanted to be nowhere else but the bridge at this moment. “Shen is in the infirmary,” he said gingerly, not wanting to create any alarm.

  “Oh my god, is he alright?” asked Sarah.

  Calvin didn’t want to tell her the truth—that Shen was probably going to die—or worse, transform into a mindless type one Remorii—so he lied. Now was a critical moment and he didn’t want Sarah’s, or anyone else’s, judgment to be compromised. “He’ll be fine.”

  “It’s good to see you in one piece, Lieutenant,” said Summers. The tiniest smile broke through on her face.

  Calvin nodded, trying not to think of the hell he’d just gone through. The images of the violent horrors of Remus Nine were still fresh in his mind, but he pushed them away. Knowing the experience would probably haunt him the rest of his life, which wouldn’t be long if he didn’t compartmentalize right now. It helped being back on the Nighthawk. The one place in the galaxy that felt like home. “Status report,” he said, taking the command position.

  “The Desert Eagle and a squadron of Imperial ships have surrounded the planet,” said Summers, relinquishing the defense post to Miles, who looked at her in his chair as if she were an unwanted squatter. Summers walked over to Calvin and stood by his side. “They can see through our stealth system unless we hide in the minefield. We hid there until we heard from you.”

  “Sir, the mine field has been completely destroyed,” said Cassidy, looking over her ops console. “It is no longer possible to hide there.”

  “Status of the other ships?” snapped Calvin.

  “Five warships are in a containment pattern, blocking alteredspace vectors away from the planet. Including the Phoenix.”

  “The Phoenix?” asked Calvin excitedly. He wondered if Anand was in command of that ship. If so, perhaps his best friend would show him some leniency.

  “Yes, sir. And two other warships are mobile, the Desert Eagle and the Rhea. They are on an intercept course with us. Weapons range in eighty seconds.”

  “Disengage stealth and clear for action,” said Calvin. If hiding wasn’t an option then fighting was their only recourse. It didn’t look hopeful, but at least they’d succeeded in destroying the isotome weapons on Remus Nine. He wondered briefly if
there was a way to get Anand to help him without making it so obvious that Nimoux had Anand arrested. Probably not... For that matter, Anand might not even be in command of the ship anymore.

  “Aye, aye,” said Miles. He sounded general quarters, raised the shields, and began arming weapons. Calvin strapped in, as did the rest of the bridge crew.

  “Any sign of the Rotham fleet?” asked Calvin.

  “No sir. Though they are due to arrive at any moment,” said Cassidy. “According to our best estimation.”

  “If we’re lucky, maybe they’ll arrive right now and throw Nimoux’s squadron into chaos,” said Calvin, trying to be optimistic—despite the long odds.

  “If a fleet of thirty Rotham warships enters the system, no one is escaping alive,” said Cassidy.

  “I’ll blast every last one of them to hell,” said Miles. “I ain’t dying here!” Calvin knew that Cassidy’s assessment was correct, but he was grateful for Miles’ spirit.

  “Desert Eagle and Rhea are still closing,” said Cassidy.

  “Sarah, begin evasive maneuvers. Let’s stay out of their weapons range as long as we can,” said Calvin.

  “Aye, aye. I can probably buy us another thirty seconds.”

  The view out the window changed as the ship rotated.

  “Miles, defensive fire only. I don’t want our weapons to overheat.” Calvin knew this measure would only buy them some time and ultimately wouldn’t drive the equally matched Desert Eagle, and the Rhea—whose armament he didn’t know—away.

  “We are being hailed,” said Summers. “The Desert Eagle is ordering us to power down our defenses and surrender.”

  “Ignore them,” said Calvin. He briefly considered letting them board, wondering if their chances would be better in a small arms battle but knew, with only half his garrison and most of the Polarian soldiers dead or wounded, they’d be quickly overwhelmed.