The Phoenix Rising Read online

  “How long have you been away from it?”

  “Hard to say,” he lied. He hadn’t taken it since his secret was exposed, in fact he didn’t have any in his possession to take—it’d all been seized—but that wasn’t that long ago.

  “Months?” asked Rain candidly.

  “No,” he admitted.

  “I’m not so sure cutting it out cold turkey is healthy. Not with this particular medication. At the likely dose you were taking.”

  He was surprised to hear her say this. “You want me to go back to it?”

  “Not quite. I think you should take a scheduled, controlled, decreasing amount of it every two days until you can safely go off Xinocodone altogether. That’s the safest, most effective way to break this kind of addiction.”

  “Won’t taking it just remind me of it and make me want it more?”

  “If you haven’t felt any serious withdrawal symptoms from the Xinocodone yet, I’m sure you will before long. They are not only maddeningly unpleasant, they can also cause harm to your body.”

  Calvin had to cut her off before he heard all her reasoning. He didn’t doubt she knew what she was talking about, and that she was the expert here, but he also couldn’t bear the thought of taking equarius again. Not after all it had done. And he was genuinely afraid that if he had any, even a single milligram, it would only whet his appetite for more. “Thanks, but no thanks, Rain. I’m done with equarius for good.”

  She looked at him skeptically. “If you say so. But, should you change your mind, on the drug treatment or the physical, I’ll be here.”

  “Alright. But don’t hold your breath.”

  The door whisked open and both Calvin and Rain turned to see the newcomer.

  He was tall, broad, and extremely muscular. His hair was as white as his soldier’s uniform and his skin was grey with a faded blue quality. He had wide, steel-colored eyes and his dark lips formed a scowl. He wore a handgun on the left of his belt and a dagger on his right—Calvin understood the bladed weapon had spiritual significance. The Polarian commanding officer, supreme leader of every member of the Polarian detachment on this ship, stepped toward them. “What is the meaning of this, human doctor?” In his hand he waved a piece of stationary.

  Rain looked at him and folded her arms, not the least bit intimidated even though the Polarian towered over her. Calvin guessed his height to be a full two meters. “You’ll have to be more specific than that,” said Rain.

  “Explain this!” he said, thrusting the stationary at her once he was close enough. Calvin caught a glimpse of it; it looked like an order from the XO.

  “Seems like you’ve been given an order to have your men inoculated against Hylacre disease.”

  “I know what it says,” he locked eyes with Rain. “Please explain to your Commander Presley that my brothers and I should not be subjected to this.”

  “But you definitely should be,” said Rain.

  “Do you not understand what you are asking of us?”

  “To not catch and spread Hylacre disease to everyone on the ship?”

  The Polarian looked furiously annoyed. His tough skin wrinkled somewhat and he muttered something in his native tongue. “I see you are useless. I must take this to the commanding officer himself.”

  “What a coincidence, he’s right here,” said Rain.

  Up until now Calvin had been content to stay out of it. He hadn’t yet gone to meet the Polarian newcomers, a detachment of thirteen, and didn’t want resolving a dispute to be his first contact with them.

  “You? You’re the commanding officer?” the Polarian asked, looking at Calvin. “But you’re just a lieutenant commander,” he spied the silver bar on Calvin’s uniform and knew what it meant.

  “Regardless,” said Calvin, “I am the CO of the Nighthawk.”

  The Polarian’s whole demeanor changed and he stood rigid, offering a Polarian left-handed salute. “I am Imperator Rez’nac. Please accept my apology, sir, I did not know I was in your honorable presence.”

  Calvin wasn’t used to be addressed this way, and he didn’t really care for it. “That’s okay,” he said. “Now tell me, Rez’nac, what is the problem you and your men have with getting the inoculation recommended by Dr. Poynter here?”

  “It is not our way,” said the Polarian, as if that was sufficient reason.

  “He means it’s against his religion,” said Rain, apparently picking up on Calvin’s confusion.

  “Ah,” said Calvin, now understanding. Unlike the Polarian Confederacy, the practice of religion in the Empire took wild variations in form and was not very widespread. He guessed that fewer than one in ten humans considered himself religious in any way. So it was hard for any of the humans aboard, himself included, to respect the value in another’s tender belief that seemed so irrational, such as refusing protection from infectious disease.

  “So then you understand why we must challenge this order,” said the Polarian.

  Calvin understood in theory, for some reason the Polarians had deemed the inoculation as a violation of the sanctity of their bodies or some such idea, but since he was skeptical of that belief in the first place, he knew he didn’t truly understand where Rez’nac and his men were coming from. But, since they were under his command, he had to at least pretend to.

  “Rain,” said Calvin, looking at her. She seemed young for a doctor, probably not older than Calvin, and she would probably have been quite attractive in clothes that complimented her figure better than baggy blue scrubs. “How essential is this inoculation? And is this something that everyone has to have, or just the Polarians?”

  “It is very important. Rumor is we’re going towards Rotham space, possibly even into the DMZ.”

  “That’s true,” Calvin confirmed.

  “The virus that causes Hylacre disease is much more widespread on those planets than anywhere else in the known galaxy. And, because of how Polarian physiology works, they are more likely than humans, or even Rotham, to contract the disease. Once they have it, they could spread it to the whole ship. The symptoms are severe, including loss of muscle control, loss of weight despite having an appetite, intense nausea and vomiting, difficulty retaining water, loss of memory, severe anxiety... ”

  “Yeah, I get the picture,” said Calvin. “It’s bad.”

  “And about one in four cases results in death,” said Rain.

  “Okay, what about this,” Calvin tried to concoct a solution. “How about everyone who wants to be protected gets the vaccine and if the Polarians don’t get the vaccine they do so at their own risk?”

  “The whole point of this is about risk management,” she said. “We lessen the chance of everyone getting the disease by trying to get every person immunized, but immunity is not guaranteed. Someone who’s been inoculated could still get the disease—it’s just less likely. And anyone bringing the disease aboard the ship puts everyone else at risk. It’s not necessarily a high risk, but it is high enough to be concerned about.”

  He nodded. So now he had a choice, he could put his crew in unnecessary danger, or he could trample the personal religious beliefs of a minority of people on his ship, potentially alienating people he wanted to assimilate into the crew. Neither choice was attractive.

  “I’m sorry Rez’nac, but I believe it would be best for everyone if you and your soldiers agreed to be vaccinated.”

  To Calvin’s surprise, Rez’nac showed neither outrage nor frustration. He bowed his head. “Very well, Lieutenant Commander, I will submit to your judgment, for you are master of this house. I shall obey.”

  “But as a show of good faith and support,” said Calvin, wanting to fellowship his new shipmates, “is there anything I can do for you to make you more comfortable? Perhaps let you use the observation deck for religious services?” He wasn’t sure that Polarians even congregated for their rituals but he wanted to make some kind of peace offering.

  “That would please us greatly,” said Rez’nac. “And we would be honore
d to have you join us.”

  Calvin hesitated. He knew instinctively that he should accept, however he’d never been a church-goer of any sort and the thought of being locked into the routine of going to these, for however often and long they were, wasn’t appealing. Still he kept a smile on his face and just as he opened his mouth to reply, Rez’nac spoke.

  “I only ask that you go once.”

  “Yes, definitely,” said Calvin, “I’d love to.” Perhaps he was coming across as too enthusiastic, he hoped he didn’t sound insincere. Truthfully the thought of observing the Polarians and their rituals sounded like an excellent way to gather more intelligence on who they were as both individuals and a collective. He just didn’t want to be roped into attending dozens of meetings when one alone would suffice.

  “You honor me.”

  “I’d like to go too,” said Rain. “If I can. I’ve never been to a Polarian church before.” This request took Calvin by surprise. Most people he knew that came from scientific backgrounds tended to dismiss spiritualism in any form as superstitious nonsense. He’d never known if that was because the empirical mind—taught to test hypotheses and seek out concrete evidence—

  found nothing to relate to in the world of faith, or if it was a byproduct of being a part of a culture that was almost uniformly atheist. Perhaps it was a combination of both.

  “You of course are welcome to join us,” said Rez’nac. “Perhaps if the brothers see you paying your respects to our ways, they will not be so afraid of your needle.”

  “Actually it’s an oral tablet. But I get your meaning.”

  “Excellent, then I’ll see you there,” he smiled at them. Not the pleased-with-himself grin of someone who hoped to win two converts to his religion—in fact Calvin was pretty sure humans were not allowed to join the Polarian religion—but rather the look of someone who valued being respected. “I shall take my leave of you both now, and see to my brothers.”

  “Actually I’m leaving too,” said Calvin. “Do you mind if I walk with you?” He wanted to get to know Rez’nac a bit more, and had an important question for him.

  “Do I mind? I am honored by the request.” He motioned and Calvin led the way out of the infirmary.

  “Nice to meet you Calvin,” Rain called from behind.

  “You too,” he waved at her.

  Once he and Rez’nac were in the corridor, Calvin was glad to see that it was empty. “Rez’nac, if I were to ask you a very serious question, you would answer it truthfully, wouldn’t you?”

  “Of course. I know no other way.”

  “Then tell me, who are you most loyal to? Raidan? Mira? The Organization? The High Prelain of your religion? Someone else?”

  “I serve only the Light,” he replied simply.

  “I’m not sure what that means.”

  “It means, Lieutenant Commander, that as long as I am here, and I serve under you, you may trust me more than any other person in the galaxy. For I am of the essence of Khalahar.”

  Calvin still didn’t quite understand what that meant, but he didn’t think Rez’nac’s answer was deliberately evasive. Calvin simply wasn’t very well versed in the nuances and idiosyncrasies of Polarian culture. He knew that essences and ancestors were very import parts of the Polarian religion, but that was about as far as his knowledge went. He took Rez’nac’s answer as a positive sign, though. He’d stated his loyalty to Calvin in no uncertain terms. Hopefully he’d meant it.

  Chapter 8

  Shen could understand how Calvin became addicted to equarius. The drug, more officially known as Xinocodone, had been administered to him in controlled doses as part of his treatment. It had a way of making all sense of pain, stress, and fear fade away into absolutely nothing. The world was a wonderful, apathetic spiral of serenity and harmony. Live. Die. It didn’t matter. There was no pain. Simply peace.

  The burn injuries he sustained on the Rotham ship in Abia, as a result of being grazed by a Rotham firearm, were beginning to heal thanks to treatment he’d received on the Harbinger and Gemini. It had been a strange experience, submitting himself into the hands of Polarian physicians. He hadn’t trusted them, and had wondered if they even knew human physiology well enough to treat him. But he’d had no choice but to have faith in them, and they’d proven every bit as competent and effective as human doctors. Now that the major operation in his recovery was done—a skin graft—he felt much better.

  He’d recovered use of his wounded arm—learning to manage and endure the pain that came with using it—and now felt spectacularly bored. He was not only out of the loop regarding what was going on, he also felt useless. Like deadweight. He was the very blood and guts of the computer systems of the Nighthawk, he knew them better than anyone, probably better than their original designers, and so he felt like a fish out of water lounging around his quarters or wasting away in the infirmary.

  There was nothing to do except a lot of thinking. Finding himself again and again trapped in circular self-reflection. Sometimes with pity and frustration, other times optimism and determination. There was a lot about his life that he didn’t like: he hated the way he looked, he hated his questionable fitness—barely achieving the minimum standards set by Intel Wing—he hated that he had no confidence with women, or experience. And now he was injured and useless. It was a growing avalanche of internal disappointment and frustration that almost made him collapse on himself completely. Surrender his last traces of morale and take the path of least resistance—ending it all. But whenever his thoughts became so dark, he’d either be doped back into apathy, thanks to equarius, or he’d think of Sarah’s tender face and warmth—someone so familiar and close and yet so out of reach. She kindled a fire inside him. And made him believe he could make his life into something worthwhile. If he wanted to bad enough.

  Today was the day, he decided. He would stop being inadequate—Calvin and the others needed him, and he needed purpose.

  The elevator came to a halt and the door slid open. Shen stepped out onto the bridge and took in the view like a breath of fresh air. He was home. It was still White Shift and both Miles and Sarah were at their posts. She was the first to notice him.

  “Shen!” she said excitedly. His eyes took her in, so much wonderful loveliness and beauty. She radiated positivity and optimism. He felt his innards melt ever so slightly looking at her. It had been days since he’d last seen her, but it felt like years.

  “Hey, welcome back, buddy,” said Miles with a grin. The large man behind the defense post was as much a friend to Shen as anyone else on the ship, even if Shen didn’t think he was very bright. The only one missing was Calvin, the man Shen trusted and respected above all others.

  “I’m glad to see you’re up and about, Mister Iwate,” said Summers from the command position. “But are you sure you should be here?” She looked directly at the dressings wrapped around his wound. His uniform had been cropped back, making it sleeveless on one side, to allow him to change dressings easily.

  “I’m fine, Summers,” he said.

  “Commander,” she corrected him.

  Same old Summers.

  He walked up to the ops officer and relieved him. Shen had never seen him before and assumed he was one of the newcomers from Gemini. “You’re dismissed.”

  The man, who was probably double Shen’s age, looked back at Summers for approval. Shen rolled his eyes. This was his shift and he outranked the newcomer, end of story.

  “It’s alright you may go, I’ll transfer you to a different shift,” said Summers.

  “Yes, sir,” the man replied with a crisp salute. He left the bridge. Shen tried not to judge him too harshly; he was a stranger simply doing his job, but for some reason Shen got a really negative vibe from him. Maybe it was a subconscious thing, perhaps seeing him in the ops position made him seem like a squatter.

  Shen looked over his controls, not surprised to see that they’d been rearranged in a sub-optimal way. He’d have to undo any of the damage the other m
an had done. No doubt he was technically proficient, but he simply wasn’t as good at this job as Shen. No one was.

  “How are you feeling?” asked Sarah.

  Shen spun his chair around to face the helm. Every time he saw her, it was like a tiny jolt of electricity. “Not bad, actually,” he said.

  “That’s good,” she smiled at him. “It just wasn’t the same without having you on the bridge.”

  He smiled back. Before he could say anything more, Miles cut in. “Yeah, yeah, it’s great having you back. Glad you’re feeling better, and all that. Anyway, you never answered my original question, Sarah.”

  “I’m sorry, what was it?” she asked.

  Miles and Sarah launched into another of their common ongoing arguments, this time about the new food supplies they’d brought aboard from Gemini—apparently the food wasn’t to Miles’ liking. Almost always these pointless conversations were initiated by Miles who took a special pleasure in dragging Sarah down to his level of nonsense. Shen tuned them out and worked on rearranging his computer displays to the more efficient pattern he was used to.

  The door to the CO’s office slid open. Shen looked up, hoping to see Calvin.

  Instead it was Tristan who exited the office. He wore a naval uniform and looked completely human. His eyes met Shen’s and the Remorii nodded slightly as he walked away. Shen kept watching him until he’d shuffled into the elevator and disappeared. It made Shen profoundly uncomfortable knowing that Tristan was on the ship, and wandering freely. And he could only guess why the lycan had been given access to the CO’s office. Shen had heard rumors of what Tristan’s kind were capable of and he couldn’t help but imagine the nightmarish transition from man to Remorii, if Tristan attacked him.

  “You okay, Shen?” asked Sarah.

  “Yeah,” he said. “What was the werewolf doing in the CO’s office?”