The Phoenix Rising Read online

  “It is an honor to see you, Captain,” said Rez’nac.

  “The honor is mine,” Calvin replied, uncomfortable with the level of respect Rez’nac gave him. As he looked up at the much taller and broader figure of the aged Polarian, Calvin could see many deep bruises. The injuries blackened his mostly grey skin. And around his leg and stomach were bandages that had nearly bled through. Calvin looked Rez’nac in the eyes and saw both pain and fatigue, but the Polarian leader masked his agony and did not complain. Even though he was far more beaten than Calvin had previously realized. “Are you alright?” asked Calvin.

  “I am buoyed by the Essences. For that I am grateful. Clearly my work is not yet done.”

  Calvin didn’t quite know what that meant, but interpreted it as resilient optimism. “I want to thank you personally,” said Calvin, as the images flowed in his mind of Rez’nac and the other Polarians faithfully defending the rest of the shore party. How they’d put themselves purposefully out on the perimeter where they’d taken the most savage beating, and paid the dearest price. “You and your men gave up much for us and this mission. I...” Calvin struggled to find adequate words. “Never before have I seen such valor.”

  “I am grateful for your words, Human captain,” said Rez’nac. “But I assure you we did no more than our sacred duty. No thanks is required.”

  “Still, required or not, you have my sincerest thanks. If there is anything I can do to make things better for you, please say the word.”

  A calm expression passed over Rez’nac’s face and though he did not smile—if he even could—he did seem pleased by Calvin’s sincere and inadequate tribute. “You must continue doing your sacred duty,” said Rez’nac. “And so will we. There is nothing more to ask.”

  Calvin nodded. “I would like to have a memorial service on the observation deck with most of the crew to honor your fallen. Your people paid a heavier price than anyone and it’s only right that we honor their sacrifice. I’d like to do the service according to your traditions—I feel that would be the most appropriate. But, since I don’t know them, I’ll need your help making the arrangements. If you’re willing.”

  “I know that you are only trying to do right by us, in your own Human way,” said Rez’nac. “But it is best if you do not have such a service and instead let things be.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “For us... we do not have such things as funerals and memorials. Those customs are very strange to us. An honorable death is not a time for sorrow, or for recognizing loss. It is a great thing, the most truly beautiful part of life—indeed, it’s the single truest experience one ever has. One’s worthy advancement from frail mortality to join the ancestors of us all in the Essences that bind together the universe... that is not loss but glory.”

  Calvin wished he could look upon death with such positivity. But, despite Rez’nac’s words, he doubted the Polarians truly felt no grief at the loss of their comrades. However, if burying or ignoring that grief was their way, Calvin would respect it. “A memorial doesn’t have to be a sad event,” he said. “We could celebrate the departed, pay them tribute, reminisce, and so on.”

  Rez’nac showed tenderness in his eyes as he gazed down at Calvin, but his expression remained hard. “I appreciate the effort you are trying to make here, I have no doubt you are a good human and are only trying to do right according to your own ways. But you must understand that your ways are not our ways. When one we care about transitions from mortality to the Essences, we may remember them in our minds and in our hearts—and indeed a part of them will always be with us—but we must never speak of them out loud again. To do so would be to dishonor them. By speaking of them as an individual, even in the past tense, is to cheapen what they’ve become. Which is something far greater than they ever were before. Now they are both one and many. Does that make sense?”

  Calvin nodded, but he did not understand—not really. He hadn’t been raised in a spiritual or religious environment and it was hard for him to wrap his head around beliefs and ideas that were not empirically founded. Nor did it make sense to him how the Polarians could achieve closure when dealing with the death of a loved one if they couldn’t talk about it. But he didn’t have to understand. If Rez’nac and the other Polarians didn’t want a memorial service, there didn’t have to be one. “I will respect your wishes. And want you to know that I appreciate what you and your men did back there, and I regret the loss of life.”

  “Thank you.”

  “And, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you didn’t lose your son,” said Calvin, noting that Grimka was one of the survivors. He clearly had much of his father’s physical toughness and looked fiercely strong despite his injuries.

  “If Grimka had joined the Essences while being faithful to his duty, thus preserving his sacred honor, it would have been a good and beautiful thing. I know that,” said Rez’nac. “But between you and me, Captain,” a glint of humanity showed in his steely eyes, “I’m grateful too.”

  Calvin parted from Rez’nac. It felt good to have expressed his thanks, but words alone seemed empty and he wished there was something more he could do to honor the Polarians for their sacrifice.

  Eventually he got the courage to approach Shen. The man lay unconscious on the medical cot. His face was gaunt and much of the color had drained away. His features were less recognizable as the infection battled inside him, slowly converting him to a hideous Remorii. Seeing him there in that tormented state, his ghastly body hooked up to all kinds of machines, thick restraints pinning him down, his heartbeat on the monitor just barely enough to keep him alive... it was devastating.

  “Come on,” whispered Calvin, placing his hand on Shen’s shoulder.

  Sarah was there too. Standing. Staring down at Shen with unbelieving eyes. The two had always been close, Calvin knew, and he’d understood that Shen’s fate would wound Sarah deeply, but seeing her this broken was a genuine surprise.

  “Why...?” she asked, now looking at Calvin with swollen eyes that were drowning with tears that wouldn’t stop. “Why did...?” she couldn’t get out any more words.

  He’d never seen her like this. Sarah had watched friends die before. She’d even faced death herself when none of them believed they would survive Abia. And every time, in every grim situation, Sarah had been the very picture of grace under pressure. Her spirit always positive, almost unnaturally uplifted—as if buoyed by some otherworldly force. But now all of her strength had forsaken her. She stared, hopeless and dumbfounded. Spirits shattered. A complete wreck. She struggled even to breath as she choked back the sobs. Trembling. She looked like she might fall over at any minute.

  Not knowing what else to do, Calvin walked up to her and instinctively put his arms around her. She hugged him back weakly, as if she barely had the strength to lift her arms.

  “Why?” she asked again.

  He hushed her and then in a soft, soothing tone said, “it’s alright.” He held her until her body stopped shaking, then he let her go. “Go get some rest.”

  At first she resisted, too stunned to move or do anything, obviously not wanting to leave Shen’s side until he made a full recovery. But Calvin eventually convinced her and she left. Giving Shen one long, desperate glance before going. When she was gone, Calvin took a deep breath and wondered what the right thing to do was.

  It wasn’t the first time he’d stood next to a loved one who’d been infected by a Remorii virus and watched as the best medical technology seemed unable to save them. Christine had been in such limbo for a long time, suffering in ways Calvin could only imagine. Constantly tortured by the battle raging inside her. He recalled how the ordeal had aged her years, even decades. When they’d finally revived her and told her the fight against the infection was a stalemate at best, she’d begged them to end her life. To let her die. Seeing her like that, hearing those words, knowing that such a horrible outcome was probably for the best—but being unable to accept it—had broken Calvin. And somethin
g precious and innocent inside him had been lost forever. Now, as he relived history—like a bad recurring dream—he knew that Shen was suffering a similar fate. And he couldn’t let his friend keep suffering.

  Rain came over and checked several of the monitors that were plugged into Shen.

  “What’s the prognosis?”

  “His vitals have stabilized, that’s good,” she said. “But the infection is still progressing. I’ve slowed it down but... it’s surprisingly aggressive. I’ve never seen anything like it. I’ll have to try something else.” She seemed frustrated, clearly feeling empathy for her patient, but showed no sign of giving up. Calvin doubted Rain had ever given up on anyone.

  “I’ve seen this infection before,” said Calvin. He looked away from her and back down at Shen. His gaunt and sickly face made Calvin flinch inside. Clearly the man was dying. “The physicians at SB 37’s medical facility were unable to reverse it.”

  “That’s too bad,” said Rain. “But that doesn’t mean the condition isn’t reversible.” Fire glowed in her countenance and Calvin liked that about her. That she had a fighter’s spirit. But he thought maybe she was being unrealistic.

  “Eventually the physicians brought the patient to consciousness and...” he swallowed hard, “she asked for the right to die.”

  “What are you saying?” Rain gave him an alarmed look.

  Calvin didn’t want Shen to die. He was a dear friend and probably the most talented and useful member of the crew. But he also didn’t want Shen to suffer unnecessarily, especially if they were only delaying the inevitable. “I can’t help but wonder if we’re really doing him a favor keeping him here.”

  Rain’s eyes narrowed sharply.

  “I mean,” Calvin went on, finding the words difficult to utter but necessary. “I don’t think we should let him suffer any more than he has to.”

  “I won’t administer a fatal dose of anything,” said Rain. “Nor will I simply let a patient die.”

  “I understand,” said Calvin. “But I will administer a fatal dose if it’s the only way to stop the suffering. In fact, I should be the one to do it, since he sacrificed himself to save me.”

  “If he’s still alive even the tiniest bit,” said Rain, “then that means it’s not his time. We can’t just give up. I won’t.”

  “If he is experiencing intense suffering,” said Calvin, “and there is no possibility that he can be saved, I’m not willing to let him keep suffering. As his friend, how could I?”

  Rain seemed like she didn’t believe what she was hearing. “Don’t give up on him,” she said. “I can save him. I know I can! This condition can be reversed! Just give me some time.”

  Calvin nodded. “Very well. I desperately hope that you’re right. But understand this,” he paused and looked her in the eyes. “I won’t let Shen suffer forever.” The memory of watching Christine be ripped apart by the virus for weeks on end with no hope of recovery was heavy enough to bear without adding Shen. No person deserved to be eternally stuck between life and death in a constant state of pain. “The moment it becomes clear that there’s nothing we can do for him, we have to let him go. That’s the only kind thing we can do.”

  Rain’s eyes remained fiercely determined and unwilling to give an inch. “I don’t know how yet, but I can save him. And I will.”

  ***

  When Calvin returned to his office he found an encrypted message waiting for him. It had been sent through the most secure channels with maximum security. He locked the door before opening it—wanting to keep it private.

  After confirming his identity, the message decrypted itself and displayed a video on his computer. A woman appeared in front of a blank backdrop that resembled the bulkhead of a starship or space station. The lighting was dim and her features were partially obscured, but despite those limitations he recognized her exquisite face and commanding eyes immediately. Princess Kalila. He felt his heart lurch.

  “Calvin, we have to meet right away. Time is short. Follow these coordinates. I regret I can only give you twenty-four hours. After that, it will be too late. I pray you get this message in time.” She disappeared and her image was replaced by a series of interstellar waypoints that, presumably, would take him to her.

  The message ended and his screen went dark.

  He leaned back in his chair, collecting his thoughts. He didn’t know if he could trust Kalila—not after her ship had been identified as the perpetrator of a violent assault against the government of Renora—but he wasn’t convinced that she was behind the attack either. The proof seemed to be in place that it had been her ship that’d fired on the planet, but that didn’t mean she was complicit, or even present when it happened. Additionally, she’d sent him a message earlier warning him not to believe the rumors. A plea, no doubt, to avoid convicting her too hastily.

  Of course, he realized that he was biased. He wanted to believe she was innocent. That she could be trusted. It wasn’t a feeling he could help, he found her compelling and exciting and... he was drawn to her in ways that he didn’t completely understand. But he knew he had to temper his emotions and focus solely on the facts. And the most poignant fact of all was that she couldn’t be trusted—not yet.

  But then again, Raidan couldn’t be completely trusted either. Almost no one could. Everyone seemed to have their own agenda, their own design for the Empire. Was Raidan’s vision of what needed to be done best for the Empire, or was Kalila’s? And what were those visions exactly?

  He had a choice to make now. Both Kalila and Raidan expected to see him immediately. And both had given him a narrow window of time in which to do so. Meeting with one meant not meeting with the other. And he couldn’t be in two places at once. So the question remained, which rendezvous was more important?

  He’d already agreed to meet with Raidan, and was expected. But part of him strongly wanted to meet with Kalila. Not just because she was compelling and impossible to get out of his head once she was in there—but also because she could give him answers. Answers about Renora, answers about the Empire. Answers he couldn’t get from anyone else. Not even Raidan.

  But then again... Raidan had hinted at something very important, so important that it had to be shared in person.

  Decisions, decisions... He let out a sigh, deciding that this was a judgment call he didn’t have to make alone. He needed to get a fresh perspective on the dilemma which meant it was time to let someone else into his confidence regarding Kalila—and their secret communications. Someone he could trust absolutely. And recent events had proven no one more reliable and trustworthy than Summers.

  The universe truly is upside-down. He thought of the strange irony. That Summers—once his enemy—had won his confidence while Anand—once his best friend—had tried to kill him. The whole dynamic seemed perverse and wrong. But it was what it was...

  He tapped the line to the bridge. “Jay, tell Summers to report to my office right away.”

  Chapter 30

  In the cold silence of alteredspace flight, the Harbinger ripped through the galaxy at ninety percent potential. Moving swiftly to make the rendezvous as scheduled. Soon they would encounter the Nighthawk and the Arcane Storm. Hopefully, when they did, Raidan would find the answer to his question.

  He sat alone in his office with orders not to be disturbed. A bottle of whiskey sat idle on his cedar desk. Barely more than a sip taken from it.

  Calvin, when we get to Lyra Minor, you’d damn sure better be there...

  Raidan tapped his fingers on the desk’s surface as he pondered. Trying to keep the very complex situation together in his head. There was no black and white anymore. It was all one giant, murky cloud of grey. The Empire was bleeding and it seemed the only way to save it now was through extreme measures. Measures he’d hoped to avoid.

  Unfortunately the situation was more dire than even the bleakest predictions made by the Organization six months ago. The replicants were increasing in number, some now positively identified on Capita
l World—meaning nowhere and no one was safe from the reach of the Phoenix Ring anymore—and now there was an even deadlier threat. The ability to destroy entire star systems. He was grateful for Calvin’s efforts, that so many of the isotome weapons were destroyed, but it made him extremely uneasy knowing that more could be out there. No doubt in the wrong hands...

  To make matters worse, the distracting situation on Renora held the complete attention of every citizen of the Empire. The civil chaos had led to mass uprisings on the planet and large-scale violence. Now starvation was a major threat looming over the disordered place. It was just the situation the Phoenix Ring had wanted. As all eyes looked to King Akira to solve the crisis, the monarch was faced with a no-win scenario. Leaving the people to fend for themselves would be an act of heartlessness and neglect, but sending in soldiers to enforce order would be seen as heavy-handed and brutish, and would only lead to more violence in the short term. More bodies in bags. It was only a matter of time before one of the Akira’s rival families would successfully challenge the Akiras for the throne. Potentially forcing the king to abdicate and creating an opportunity for the Phoenix Ring to seize the government. Or, should he refuse to abdicate, he risked leading the Empire into civil war.

  Raidan didn’t want to use the ace up his sleeve. He knew the consequences of such an action. And it wasn’t a decision he made lightly. But he felt there was no longer any choice. A show of opposing force was necessary. It was the only way to stem the tide.

  Meanwhile he knew that an armada of troop transports guarded by the Eighth Fleet was quietly gathering somewhere in the Regalis Cluster. Many thousands of ships that would ferry a tremendous force of forty-five million troops to Renora to re-establish the government. A prefect, appointed by the king, was going with them and would act as temporary dictator until the chaos was put down. Not many knew that the king had decided to send troops after all, but that was sure to change as reports of a massive invasion and increased violence spread like wildfire over kataspace in the coming weeks.