The Phoenix Conspiracy Read online

  "No. Shut up." He turned it off just as Shen's voice crackled over his speaker.

  "We've pulled free from Praxis One and we're in open space. Also, Miles is on his way to the bridge."

  "Good,” said Calvin and headed he for the door.

  He and Miles entered the bridge at the same time from opposite sides.

  "Hey man, I'm really sorry. I owe you big, Cal. Real big," Miles's voice boomed as he hurried to his post. Calvin couldn't help but laugh. Seeing Miles' red face was almost worth the small fortune.

  "It's fine, it's fine," Calvin made a calming motion with his hands.

  "I'll pay you back, I swear!" He got to his station but didn't sit down.

  Sarah spun her chair to face him. "So what happened to that 20,000q you were going to win, hotshot?"

  "Hey..,” said Miles. "No sass from you."

  "The word is you lost 30,000q. That's like buying four cars, brand new."

  "No, no, no. It was much less than that. End of discussion."

  Calvin smirked. "It was 29,905q. I just paid it."

  "Well... the game was rigged anyway," Miles looked flustered.

  Shen spoke up, "the controller told me you lost it on eight consecutive hands, increasing the bet with each one."

  "Yeah eight hands, and all of them rigged. Isn't that unfair? I mean it's bad enough to rig one hand, but eight? Give a guy a break."

  "Yeah, yeah, yeah," Sarah rolled her eyes and spun back to her station. "Miles, you never change."

  Just then Miles noticed Summers Presley, who'd been silent. He pointed to her. "Who the hell is she?"

  Calvin shrugged. "I dunno, I think she's a stowaway."

  Summers cleared her throat. "I'm Commander Presley, your executive officer. Now take your station," she said, sounding unimpressed. Miles looked dazed so she snapped. "On the double, mister!"

  His eyes darted to Calvin who nodded. Miles took his seat, looking disgruntled. "Aye, Commander."

  "All right," said Calvin. "Now that everyone's acquainted, let's get out of here. Sarah, plot a course to Aleator and standby for a jump of eighty percent potential."

  "Ready, sir."

  "Now."

  Sarah fired up the engines and the view from the windows became black.

  "Accelerating, we'll reach eighty percent in just over two minutes—standard heading. ETA, six hours."

  "Perfect. Now that that's done, I'll be in my quarters. Summers, you have the deck."

  Chapter 7

  His room was cluttered with boxes, the same boxes he'd put off unloading back on the station when he thought he was getting a few weeks of vacation. But while his procrastination to unpack them had paid off there, he had no reason to delay unpacking them here. Except for pure, simple laziness. He shifted them out of his way and took a seat on his bed, letting his head rest in his hands.

  "Blah...what am I gonna do?"

  A thousand thoughts scrambled his mind. He was the miracle boy of the Fleet, the youngest, brightest CO in Intel Wing, or so he liked to think. Officially … he was second or third behind, of course, the legendary Captain Lafayette Nimoux. But aside from him, and possibly one other, Calvin’s success got the most attention within Intel Wing circles. And some people, Calvin was sure, saw him as a real contender for the unofficial role of best agent. After all, his latest work had gotten him not only another gleaming Silver Star and a phantom-class stealth warship, but also the opportunity to handpick most of his primary crew. One that came with certain expectations. He had to deliver. That meant making sense of this Raidan situation which, as of now, wasn’t adding up.

  First there was the fact that Asari Raidan went rogue in the first place. It didn't fit his background at all. He was a distinguished fighting captain with decades of loyal service. Why did he give it all up just to attack a handful of alien ships? How could that possibly be worth it?

  And then there was the issue of how he managed to escape, and steal a first-rate dreadnought in the process. The Harbinger had almost a thousand crew. There's no way he simply charmed them over. But Calvin also thought it unlikely that Raidan could have taken the ship by force. Where would he have gained an army to do so, and where would he have hidden it? And how did he anticipate needing to capture the Harbinger enough in advance to make the preparations? Unless it wasn’t Raidan but someone else who did it, perhaps to liberate Raidan or else capture him for himself.

  The simplest explanation was that the Harbinger’s crew was sympathetic to Raidan and they’d planned to rescue him all along. However the odds were not good that so many people in one place just happened to take Raidan’s side by coincidence. More likely people joined the ship, officially or discreetly, after it became clear the trial was taking place on Praxis One.

  According to reports, a third of the Harbinger’s crew changed at Praxis One, which was neither uncommon nor enough people to guarantee a swift capture of the ship. Especially since, ostensibly, the newcomers were mostly technicians and engineers rather than marines and Special Forces. That and he could find no significant connections between any of them. Some were related to each other, others came from the same schools, that sort of thing, but ultimately there wasn't much to implicate they were working together on some kind of grand scale.

  And once again, who could have anticipated—far enough in advance—the need to take control of the Harbinger in order to rescue, or capture, Raidan?

  So far the files Intel Wing had sent him hadn't proven very useful. Mostly just boring. But if there were a shred of a clue buried somewhere inside them, Calvin was determined to find it. Because he just had to know how Raidan and whoever he worked with managed to steal a ship like the Harbinger and make it and all hands vanish with hardly a trace.

  One other thing stood out to Calvin. The Fifth Fleet seemed unnaturally interested in the Harbinger case. Yes, it had been one of their ships that went missing so of course they'd be all over it. But why were they this bent on being the ones to capture him rather than begging for Intel Wing's assistance? Intel Wing had resources and training designed to deal with this kind of thing. Why did the Fifth Fleet want to keep them out of it as much as possible? Maybe to recover some of the dignity lost by having a condemned prisoner steal a dreadnought. Or maybe it was deeper than that. Or, Calvin sighed, maybe it was nothing at all.

  He found it difficult to concentrate with Summers Presley aboard. Yes, she was attractive and stimulating, but more importantly she was someone hovering over his shoulder. Second-guessing his every move. He'd never had to play defense on his own ship before. And since her eyes were the Fleet's eyes, he would have to tread extra lightly. If only he still had Anand...

  He paced his room feeling restless as his mind spun circles, trying to make all the pieces fit together. Guessing at possible explanations for Raidan’s actions, his escape, and what his next move might be.

  Why was he going to Aleator? It was a system on the edge of the Empire, outside the jurisdiction of any major power or government. A haven for thieves, cutthroats, pirates, criminals, mercenaries, and swarms of people trying to make a quick fortune. Aleator was under no one's control, except the Roscos, a family of criminals Calvin knew all too well. Too much of his own family history was involved with them. And because of that he didn't want to go to Aleator. He’d go because he had to, but he didn't have to like it.

  Eventually he found himself unlocking his safe and withdrawing the bottle of equarius. As he did, he told himself he wasn't going to take any, he was just going to hold it, and look at it, and think about it. Deeper inside he knew better, but chose to ignore the voice of warning… which was more of a whisper anyway.

  He sat back down after grabbing a bottle of water, then snapped a pill in half and downed it. Knowing the effects wouldn't be felt for several minutes. Until then, he tried to empty his mind by imagining the void of open space all around.

  ***

  His breathing was slow and deep. Each exhale carried the urge to smile at everything, and not
hing. Thoughts were scattered like shifting sands adrift on a playful pond. And he cared about nothing. The swirling joyful apathy filled every breath and second. He was removed from it all and couldn't stop smiling, feeling bodiless. Silently amused for no reason at all.

  ...until the loud noises came. What was it, gunfire? His mind ached as the thunder boomed again, like ancient cannons. He felt a wave of dizziness and in his momentary free-fall he lurched upright and saw the spinning fixtures of his room. A darkened shadowy blur of complete vertigo. He was falling up. Desperately he grabbed for something, anything, and clutched the headboard of his bed.

  After a few seconds the feeling passed and his environment normalized. Leaving him where he'd always been, atop his bed, and the icy sense of panic dissipated.

  The lights were on and burning hot, forcing him to squint. He rubbed at his eyes, trying to collect himself before standing up. Strange, he didn't remember falling asleep. How long was I out?

  Another loud knock came and when he didn't answer right away, the chime rang.

  "Come," Calvin croaked, standing up and feeling dizzy.

  The door slid open and Summers Presley stepped inside. As she did, Calvin spotted the equarius bottle on his desk. He snatched it, panicking that he'd left it in plain sight. He turned his back to her long enough to smuggle the bottle back into his safe and lock it.

  "Hello, Commander, what can I do for you?" His voice was scratchy and dry. He looked around for a water-bottle while putting a shirt on as quickly as he could.

  She pointed to the blinking light on his viewer. "The bridge has been trying to contact you. Are you all right?"

  The effects of the narcotic must have put him into such a deep sleep he'd missed it. He downed most of the water and wiped his mouth. "Yes, I'm fine." He set the bottle down and looked into Summers' eyes. "Shouldn't you be on the bridge?"

  "We were concerned about you, Lieutenant Commander."

  "Call me Calvin. And isn't it a breach in protocol for the XO to leave the bridge when she could easily send a team to check on the unresponsive captain?" Of course, he didn't care about protocol. But she did.

  "No, First Lieutenant Shen Iwate has the deck. And I thought, under the circumstances, that this would be best."

  "It's Iwate Shen. In his culture the first name goes last, kind of weird I know," he smiled. "But we just call him Shen."

  "But that's not the point," she said.

  He saw some color in her face. Was she embarrassed?

  "So what is the point?" he asked.

  "I thought it would be best if I came to check on you myself."

  "That's very thoughtful of you, glad to know you care."

  She frowned. "Don't flatter yourself, I'm here because you have a priority one message coming in from an unknown location."

  "What do you mean unknown?"

  "I mean you're being hailed, sir. By name. The sender is using one of the most secure channels possible, encrypted, and with maximum priority. Someone wants to get ahold of you really bad, really fast."

  "If that's not an excuse to be flattered I don't know what is." He felt his heart and mind race. "I'll take it in here."

  Summers didn't budge. "Because this message may be related to the case, and quite likely involves ship's security, I thought it would be best if we heard it together."

  Calvin laughed. "You're joking?"

  Her face was blank.

  "You thought wrong, sister." And with a jovial smile he motioned for her to leave. "I'll take it in here, Commander. Thanks, that'll be all."

  She didn't look happy but she complied. Once the door slid shut Calvin locked it and tapped the intercom. "Shen, send it in here. I'm ready. Give me visual too, if you can."

  "You got it, Calvin."

  The screen flickered to life and he saw the silhouette of a woman in front of a grey wall. The source of the light behind her was hard to discern. He couldn't make out her face or any details, except that she appeared to be alone.

  "Lieutenant Commander Calvin Cross?" the woman asked. Her voice sounded young twenties and oddly familiar.

  "Yes that's me," he said. "Who are you?"

  "Are you pursuing former captain Asari Raidan?"

  "Who's asking?"

  "It is very important that you are alone, are you?"

  "Yes."

  "And are you receiving this message in a secure place where no one can listen in?" Despite her youth, her voice carried a stunning amount of authority, yet it was still pleasant, smooth, and crisp, every syllable cleanly enunciated. She had no trace of accent and he guessed she was also from Capital World.

  "Yes," he said. "Now do you mind telling me who you are?"

  The woman stepped from the darkness and a light snapped on. Her olive skin, green eyes, raven hair, and elegant face would have been recognized on any of a hundred worlds.

  Calvin was too stunned to bow. "Princess Kalila Akira?" She was from the Akira House, the most powerful of the noble Houses, and more importantly she was the third daughter of the royal family and fourth in line for the throne. The Akiras had held the throne for over a hundred years and, like all Akiras, her influence was tremendous and few Imperial worlds were outside her reach. Her commanding presence extended over the camera, despite the great distance between them, and it was the first time Calvin had ever spoken directly with a member of the royal family.

  "Yes, I am Kalila. But please do not say my name out loud."

  "I'm sorry," said Calvin, focused now on her unusual clothes. She was dressed like a commoner and wore no makeup of any kind, and her flowing hair was tied back. She still looked cleaner and more well-cared for than those of the peasant caste—non or minimally fractional citizens—but otherwise she'd gone to every effort to blend in. He found himself mumbling clumsily, "if you don't mind my asking..."

  She cut him off. "I'm sorry, Calvin, but I have to keep this brief. I can't tell you anything over kataspace except to say that this is extremely important. And urgent. I need you to meet me in person. Can you do this?"

  He felt a tingle. "Probably," he said weakly, curiosity burning inside him. "Where?"

  "Meet me in Tau System. You'll see a fleet of freighters and a small outpost. Dock with the outpost and come aboard, alone and unarmed. Go to the main concourse and wait. I'll get in touch with you there. How soon can you do this?"

  Tau System was only a little out of the way to Aleator.

  "That’s over a click from my present course," he said cautiously. He didn't like the way this was going. Why would a princess of the crown be taking such extreme and unusual measures to protect herself? Not to mention sidetrack him from his mission, which she'd already admitted she knew about. "It’ll take a couple of hours."

  "Be as a fast as you can. This is urgent."

  "Of course, Your Majesty."

  "Thank you, Calvin." Hearing her say his name made him feel warm and important.

  "Is that everything?" he asked.

  "There is one more thing. And I cannot emphasize this enough. It is absolutely imperative that you not tell anyone about this message or our meeting. I can't go into details here but you must keep this completely between us. Don't inform any of your crew and definitely do not transmit any details to anyone about your heading, purpose, or destination. Do you understand?"

  "Yes. Though my superiors may demand an explanation for my course change."

  "Especially avoid telling your commanding officers."

  He raised an eyebrow. "That's easier said than done."

  She smiled. "Your record makes you out to be a clever officer. I'm sure you’ll come up with something. Just do not transmit your destination until after we've met and you're back on your way to Aleator."

  "Yes, I understand."

  "Thank you, Calvin."

  The transmission ended and the picture dissipated, leaving him alone to wonder. "This just gets weirder and weirder," he scratched his head.

  She'd seemed threatened, maybe on the run. With who
le fleets at her fingertips what could possibly be a danger to her? And why did she choose to contact him? He couldn't help her. Unless... The obvious conclusion. Her situation tied back to Raidan and the missing Harbinger.

  "So Raidan, you're the link somehow."

  ***

  Summers sat in the CO's chair watching the bridge crew work, keeping tabs on the ship's systems. Everything seemed orderly and under control, now that she'd lectured them on proper conduct. A military starship was meant to be an efficient machine, and in the navy such casual inappropriate behavior was enormously wrong. She'd always assumed the Intelligence Wing held even higher standards, after all it was harder to get into, but now she knew better. The Nighthawk was a disaster. More disorderly than a pirate ship.

  The most insufferable of them all was the egomaniacal commanding officer. A rash, careless young boy who lacked the experience and wisdom of a professional captain. His cocky recklessness was exactly the kind of attitude that would put them all in danger, and his methodology was questionable at best.

  How he'd won two Silver Stars and two merit medals was beyond her. Luck, or maybe he'd taken credit for someone else's work. Too bad she'd never know for certain. Most of the details of Calvin's missions were classified beyond classified, leaving her unable to reconcile the on-paper genius with the brash arrogant youth she saw in the flesh. Whatever he was, he was a real brat. And, unfortunately, a pleasant looking brat.

  Strong jaw, bright blue eyes, sandy loose hair, she was even jealous of how it looked so perfect with—no doubt—no effort. He wasn't pretty enough to be a model, but the slight roughness to him made him seem even more appealing. And something in his eyes glowed. He wasn't large or significantly muscular, but still firm, well-toned, and athletic. Enough to look good with a shirt off. Someone who kept himself in shape but didn't have to prove anything to anyone. He also had good height and hygiene. And he had this pleasant smell about him. To her, every man had a unique smell, and his was a good one. And she hated that. Because he didn't deserve to be attractive. She could imagine him stealing the hearts of young women because he was deceptively nice looking. And then turn around and break them. Why is it the jerks were always the good-looking ones?