The Phoenix Conspiracy Page 32

  "Yes."

  "Calvin Cross and Anand Datar?"

  "Yes."

  "Good. I have questions for you."

  Calvin looked away.

  "What are you doing in Abia?"

  "I could ask you the same question. We're humans in human space, what are you doing here?"

  The rotham pulled a baton from out of sight and jammed it between the bars and into Calvin's ribs so quickly he couldn't react. A surge of electric shock crackled through him and he stiffened, hitting his head on the ceiling as he tried to withdraw himself but found he could not. A moment later the pain was gone, just as fast as it'd come, and the rotham withdrew his baton.

  "Let's try that again," he said. "What are you doing here?"

  "Routine patrol," said Calvin. "The outpost went silent, we were sent to discover why." It was the most plausible thing he could think of but, like he'd expected, this rotham didn’t buy it—and he gave Calvin another painful jab with his baton. In the cramped cell, Calvin had no way to retreat or dodge.

  "What about the Harbinger?" asked the rotham, once he'd removed the baton a second time.

  Calvin's muscles were still tight and his heart beat faster than he thought it should. He wondered if this captain knew that shocks like these could kill a human more easily than a rotham. If he did know, he didn't seem to care.

  "I said, what about the Harbinger?"

  "What about it? It's a ship that's gone missing. I'm supposed to find it. No idea where it is."

  "Where does it make port?"

  "I don't know what you're talking about." Calvin really didn't. For all he knew the Harbinger hadn't made port anywhere since Aleator. And even then it hadn’t docked.

  "I said where does it make port?" The Rotham raised his voice and again jammed his baton through the bars, but this time Calvin was ready and managed to catch it with both hands just outside the shock point. For a minute the two of them wrestled for control and ultimately the rotham managed to pull it back out of the bars. "I gave you a chance, Human captain, but now you get to pay like the others." He took out a key.

  "What others?" asked Calvin.

  "The ones who died in the Inquisition Room."

  Calvin knew what that was. A torture chamber. And given the Rotham's reputation for brutality, he didn't want to go there. Despite the little bit of torture he'd been forced to endure, as part of his Intel Wing training, he knew that most people put under Rotham torture for any amount of time died, whether or not they cooperated. And that if he went, he wouldn’t be coming back.

  As the rotham began to work the lock, Calvin's mind raced for a way to escape the situation, maybe find a place to hide until the Fifth Fleet made its move. But, as two more armed guards showed up next to the Rotham captain, Calvin's hope of escape left him. With great effort he tried to steel himself, hoping that, should the unthinkable—but extremely likely—happen, his trusted friends and officers would still continue on without him. And uncover the truth for the whole Empire.

  "Wait," said a nearby voice, stalling the rotham who was about to open Calvin's door.

  "What did you say?" the rotham asked, looking more confused than angry.

  "That one is useless to you," it was the Major's voice, coming from the adjacent cell. "He can't answer your questions because he doesn't know anything. But I do."

  "You are volunteering to tell us everything?"

  "No," said the Major. "I'm telling you that I'm the only person who can answer your questions, and I never will. You're wasting your time." He sounded convincingly bitter and Calvin could see the mixture of irritation and intrigue on the Rotham captain's face.

  "Is that so, foolish human? Perhaps a visit to the Inquisition Room would change your mind."

  "I doubt it, lizard." The use of the pejorative lizard would offend any rotham who knew the Human language well enough to recognize the word. This worked on the captain whose breathing changed.

  "Take this one," he said, locking Calvin's cell once more. He then opened the Major's cell.

  It all made sense to Calvin. The Major didn't actually know anything, he was just goading the Rotham into taking him to their torture dungeon instead, wherever it was. Giving Calvin that much more time to hold out for the cavalry. He was awed by the noble act and wondered, had their situations been reversed, if he would’ve done the same.

  "Don't think you're out of this," the Rotham captain said, tapping his baton against Calvin's bars while his underlings cuffed the Major and escorted him forward. "Because we're coming for you next." He turned to Miles' cell. "And you." He disappeared and a replacement set of guards entered.

  ***

  They whipped him. And when that didn't work they applied electric shock.

  Major Jenkins writhed in agony, strapped to the cold table that was far too narrow for his broad shoulders. Aside from the noises of anguish he couldn't keep back, he remained silent. Telling them nothing. Enduring the bone twisting, muscle ripping pain that scorched him head to toe.

  "Where is the Harbinger?" a voice asked.

  He said nothing. Bracing for their next action as best his weakened body could. Scrapes, bruises, and deep lacerations graffitied his arms and torso. And some kind of fluid was poured over them, amplifying the pain.

  "What did Asari Raidan tell you?"

  Even if the Major had known the answer, he wouldn't have revealed it. This treatment only made it harder to think clearly. His vision blinked in and out and he could scarcely understand what was going on.

  He held to a singular thought and pushed everything else out. Calvin had to survive to lead the others to freedom. He was their best chance. Nothing else mattered.

  He gritted his teeth as more pain followed. Thin rivers of blood snaked down his arms and chest. The tickling sensation only added to the torture. And the chemicals they poured onto his wounds! Who knew pain like this existed? But everything began to fade and he knew it would all be over soon.

  "Where is the Arcane Storm?"

  He didn't understand the question. He couldn't. Before his brain could even try to process the significance of it, they poured a different, hot liquid over his damaged skin. It was so terrible he lost his bearings and for several moments did not comprehend where he was or what was going on.

  "Where does the Harbinger make port?"

  The words felt strange and alien. Like sounds he'd never heard before.

  "What Asari Raidan stole on Aleator. Where is it? What does he plan to do with it?"

  He had to keep fighting. He had to! But his strength and will to live faded like shadows in the light.

  Until he couldn't fight anymore.

  Chapter 29

  It wasn't easy from her restricted position, but with a little struggle Summers managed to input the command codes and activate the beacon. It blinked once, then made no sign it was on. Just like it was supposed to.

  "The silent beacon is activated," she whispered to Pellew.

  He said nothing, and they waited, smashed against each other in the cramped container for what felt like forever. With their two bodies, Pellew's carbine, the beacon, two handguns, and her submachine-gun, there was literally no wiggle room. She could tell Pellew—at least partially—enjoyed being squished against her, but she could have done without the experience. At least she was closer to the tiny vent that provided them with fresh air.

  "You're nervous," Pellew whispered.

  She shushed him quietly. But she was nervous. The fate of the crew depended on them and they were surrounded by hundreds of hostiles.

  Not to mention her confusion and mixture of emotions regarding recent events. What the hell were the rotham doing here? Was Calvin onto something after all? Had he been right? No... he'd flown the ship right into this mess, he didn't know what he was doing... but still, he had discovered something... she tried not to think about it.

  Every time a noise filtered in, regardless of how quiet or muffled, her heart lurched at the fear their cover had been blown. If
that happened... she didn't know what she'd do. Or could do. She forced herself to be calm, or tried to, by reminding herself the Nighthawk's blueprints were so classified that, even when she'd been made executive officer, she wasn't privy to that information until she was actually aboard the ship. So, until the Rotham mined the ship's hard drives and decoded everything, they couldn't possibly know about these containers.

  "We could just wait for the Fifth Fleet here," whispered Pellew.

  She didn't like that idea. "I don't know if the beacon can be detected through both the Nighthawk's and the Rotham ship's hulls."

  "I suppose you're right. It's too bad, really. It's kind of nice here."

  She grimaced. "Think it's clear?" she asked. They hadn't heard anything for awhile now.

  Pellew listened. "Yeah, let's go."

  Very stealthily, they opened the container and crawled into the narrow corridor of deck three. No one was around. They fixed silencers to their weapons and Summers followed Pellew's lead.

  They moved as fast as they could, sneaking around corners, through hallways, and down ladders, pausing whenever they heard voices until the coast was clear again. Eventually they reached an airlock.

  "I doubt anyone's looking at this one," said Pellew, unlocking it. "Cover me."

  Summers held her submachine-gun at the ready and kept her eyes vigilant. The beacon, which she carried by its handle in her other hand, was beginning to feel heavy but she knew she couldn't let that distract her.

  "Okay, we're through," said Pellew. He pulled the metal fixture open and poked his head out. "Looks clear, let's move." He climbed down an external ladder and Summers covered him from above. Once he reached the main floor of the Rotham hangar, she dropped the beacon to him and climbed down herself. When she reached the ground he returned it and she looked up.

  The hangar was enormous, even by heavy cruiser standards. At full capacity it could fit a large number of fighters or shuttles. For now, though, only the Nighthawk and a few fighters were on the ground. Summers could hear a half dozen or so Rotham voices out of sight, presumably working, but she didn't see anyone.

  Pellew moved ahead and assessed their surroundings. He flashed her the hand signals for three enemies to the left, clear on the right, follow him. She did. They snuck around stacked crates and various equipment.

  It was an annoying process, forcing them to backtrack at times, and it took several minutes. But they managed to escape the hangar into the corridor without incident. It was empty and they picked up the pace. Summers wasn't sure where they were going, but knew, ultimately, they were looking for a hiding place for themselves and the beacon.

  "Over here," said Pellew, waving his rifle toward a nook. It was a stubby dead-end of a hallway, complete with a ventilation grate, some crates, and a computer terminal. She followed closely.

  As they approached, two Rotham crew members could be seen at work. One popped up from behind the computer console, some wires in his hands, and the other came around a stack of crates, carrying something she didn’t recognize.

  Pellew steadied his rifle and took two quick shots, dropping both aliens. Summers didn't fire, knowing Pellew with his carbine was much more accurate than she would be with her one-handed submachine-gun.

  "Cover me while I move the bodies out of sight," said Pellew.

  He set down his carbine and dragged the first corpse behind a crate, leaving behind a mess of blood. Summers had seen her share of blood, but Rotham blood looked strange.

  "We'll have to do something about that blood," she said.

  "Move a crate on top of it,” said Pellew, now dragging the second body out of view. Summers kept an eye on the corridor and followed his command, moving one of the smaller crates. Pellew then adjusted the computer table so its shadow covered the rest of the blood.

  "So I guess we hold out here?" asked Summers, retrieving the beacon.

  "No, let's stash the beacon in one of these crates," said Pellew, "and then rescue our crew."

  Summers felt uneasy about that plan. "The beacon is more important, we have to protect it."

  "We can't protect it if they find us here," said Pellew. "They'll kill us eventually. All we can do is hide it. Staying to guard it will only draw attention to this area—and it."

  She knew he was right, but didn't want him to be. "What about the dead bodies? That'll draw attention to this spot too. Maybe we should find a new spot."

  "I don't think we'll find anything better. We're lucky we found this spot. The longer we delay, the more we carry the beacon around, the more likely they'll find us—and it—and everything will be over."

  "Fine, then what do you propose we do?"

  "Leave it and attack the detention center. You don't have to come if you don't want to but my men are locked up in there and I have to do something."

  "We don't even know where that is."

  "Yeah we do. We passed the door on our way here, didn't you notice it?"

  "No. All these Rotham halls and doors look the same to me."

  "There are subtle differences," said Pellew. "But it helps if you can read and speak Rotham, like I do."

  She should have realized that by now. The way he so easily reacted to the rotham's movements as they snuck through the hangar. Rotham fluency wasn't as uncommon as most people suspected; the academy she went to, for instance, taught it at all levels. But she hadn't made that her focus and felt in the dark now.

  "Have you heard anything interesting?" she asked. "Maybe what they're doing here and what their plans are?"

  "No. The people in the hangar weren't talking about any of that. But I do know where the crew was taken. And I'm sure we could take the guards by surprise."

  "We could die."

  "Yeah," he said with a crooked grin. "And if no one helps them, they could die. And for that matter, if we hang around here, we could die. And even if we succeed at everything, we're all going to die anyway. Eventually. Don't you want to at least die doing something meaningful?"

  ***

  Calvin couldn't see it from his cramped cell, but he knew the sound of gunfire when he heard it.

  Automatic weapons with suppressors, shouted orders in Rotham, the distinct whine of alien rifles, and of course the thud of bodies smacking the deck.

  He got on his knees and tried to catch a glimpse of something, anything. He saw black boots and the bottom of camouflage trousers moving his way, stepping over fallen Rotham corpses.

  Farther away he heard Summers’ distinct voice, "there we go," she said from out of sight, followed by the snap hiss of dozens of cells unlocking. Calvin tested his but it wouldn't budge. "I can't unlock the priority cells from this switch."

  "Use this," it was Pellew's voice. Calvin wished he could see.

  "Good timing," Calvin shouted through the bars, thinking his back couldn’t take much more of this contorted position. "Is it clear out there?"

  "For now," said Pellew. "Where's the Major?"

  "They took him. No idea where." He could hear several people moving around and cell doors opening. Hearing them roam free and knowing he was still trapped in this claustrophobia-inducing cell was unbearable.

  Summers came into view and bent down to unlock his cell with a key from one of the dead guards. He tried to read her expression but her face was mostly obscured. What he did see, though, seemed cold and neutral.

  "Summers Presley …” said Calvin. "I can't believe it but I'm actually glad to see you." His door unlocked and she opened the cell.

  "Pfft, I'm not," said Miles from the other side. "And I never will be."

  "I don't have to let you out you know," she said.

  Miles made a face. "If you don't, Calvin will."

  Calvin crawled out and stood to his full height. Even though he hadn't been in the cell for long, it felt great to be out. It was too small for an adult human and a prolonged stay would probably drive a grown man insane.

  Calvin scanned over their surroundings; the detention block was effectively a
long corridor with cells on both sides, able to hold up to a hundred prisoners, much more than the Nighthawk's crew. And fortunately everyone, except the Major, was here.

  "Pellew what have we got?" asked Calvin, moving to the raised platform in the center.

  "Twenty two soldiers, thirty-nine crew. Everyone is accounted for except the Major."

  "At least they were kind enough to put us all in one place," said Calvin. He looked over their faces and saw a lot of angry, healthy, mostly youthful people. They were tired. They were confused. But they were ready and willing to fight. Only one looked unfit for a lot of action. "How are you holding up, Monte?"

  "Don't you worry about me," the old doctor said, pointing a crooked finger. Calvin knew better; he knew Monte was in pain and wouldn't be able to keep up well. But he also understood that Monte would not let himself be seen as a liability.

  To Calvin's surprise, there was only one prisoner in this detention block who wasn't from his ship. It was a rotham in grey prison garb with long black hairs on his chin that seemed out of place on his scaly-like skin.

  "Let me out too," the rotham said desperately.

  Miles looked like that was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard. "You wish, lizard."

  "I'm telling you, I know things that can help you."

  Calvin was intrigued. "What do you know?"

  "Anything you want, just get me out of here."

  "Why is the Rotham squadron here?" Calvin pressed him.

  "I'll tell you once we're safely away from here," said the rotham.

  "Tell me now."

  "We don't have time for this," said Pellew.

  Calvin knew he was right. "Very well," he turned briefly to look at him. "How many weapons do we have?"

  "Eight," said Pellew. "My carbine, two pistols, the XO's sub-machinegun, also two Rotham rifles and two Rotham pistols off the guards here."

  "Distribute them to Special Forces," said Calvin. He wanted a firearm for himself, but knew his best chance, everyone's best chance, was to put their resources into their most capable hands. Summers relinquished her weapon without complaint.