The Phoenix Conspiracy Page 8

  She shook her head. "I'm sorry, I've already said more than I probably should have. Not because I don’t want you to know, but because I cannot be certain yet what of my information is credible. That and some information is deadly to know."

  "Well if you've already said more than you should have, then where's the harm in saying a little more?"

  "Nice try, but no. All you need to know is that Asari Raidan is not to be intercepted, interrupted, or interfered with. Find him, find out what he's doing, and report to me everything. I promise you it is both for the good of the Empire and continued human dominance in the galaxy." There was a dead-seriousness in her voice that was chilling.

  “Good of the Empire”… I seem to be hearing that a lot lately.

  "All right, I'll do what I can."

  Chapter 9

  "What was that all about, a bathroom break?” asked Miles when Calvin returned to the bridge.

  "Yeah I stopped at Tau Station to use the head. Nothing gets past you does it." He took his seat at the command position.

  "Well how am I supposed to know what you did over there?"

  "You're not. That's the beauty of it."

  "Too long for a snack, too short for a booty call," Miles paused. "I think."

  Calvin rolled his eyes. "Sarah, release us from the station and request clearance for departure." She acknowledged him and began speaking into her headset.

  Miles spoke again. "I mean, maybe it was a bathroom break." Calvin could tell Miles really wanted to know why he'd taken their ship on such a tangent and gone aboard the station alone. They all did. But he wasn't about to say.

  "You were right," said Calvin. "You backed up all the toilets on the ship forcing me to make a pit stop. But, now that that's behind us, we can keep going."

  "Must we discuss this on the bridge?" asked Summers, repulsed.

  "You'd rather discuss it somewhere else? Like the mess hall?" Miles laughed.

  Calvin waved at him to be quiet. "Sarah, what's the word?"

  "We're all clear, standard heading. Not even a floating bolt in our way."

  "Kind of nice to be at a port with no traffic for once, isn't it?” asked Calvin.

  "You said it," replied Sarah.

  "As soon as we're clear of the station, engage the main engines then best jump to Aleator."

  It wasn't the first time he'd used the phrase but Sarah still gave him an odd look. "What does that even mean, best speed?"

  "It means use your judgment."

  "I hate it when I have to use my judgment."

  Calvin looked to Summers. "I suppose you want us to go as fast as possible."

  "Yes. But it hardly matters now. Like you said, Raidan will be long gone from Aleator."

  Calvin smiled. "You know, Summers, they say acceptance is a major step in the grief process. I'm proud of you."

  She ignored this remark. "Of course Raidan's head start is no thanks to your bathroom stop."

  He laughed and sat back. "What's our ETA?"

  "Eight hours," said Sarah.

  Calvin looked at the mounted clock. It reflected Standard Time. "Red Shift takes over in three hours. How are you guys holding up?"

  "Just fine," Sarah and Shen said in unison. Summers nodded.

  "I'm tired as hell," Miles bellowed from behind the defense console. "Thanks for asking."

  Calvin laughed. "As long as you have the energy to complain, you have the energy to push buttons." He stood up. "Well guys, as much as I hate to say it, I need to get back to reading those files. And this time I'm actually going to do it."

  "Sure you are..,” said Sarah.

  "I'm serious," said Calvin, sounding more defensive than he’d meant. He looked to Summers. "You have the deck."

  Once inside his office, he grabbed a water bottle before crashing into his chair and scooping up a pile of printouts. "Where to begin?" The question he hated the most. Out of a mountain of boring materials he had to chew through, which would he tackle first?

  He decided to look over the crew manifest again, beginning with the senior staff. But this time he was going to thoroughly research the histories of each officer in great detail. Everything from their economic backgrounds, conditions growing up, family situations, past employers, various residences, all the way down to their favorite childhood candy. To do this he had to get up once more, briefly, to grab his portable computer. And so began the very tedious task of constructing psychological profiles of everyone most likely to sympathize with Raidan.

  "All right, Lieutenant Gates, let's start with you."

  Since the Harbinger was an Alpha class ship, it had a dedicated communications officer. Calvin believed that was the best starting point since it was that person's job to alert Praxis of any mutiny attempt going on. If he could prove the comms officer was linked to Raidan somehow, that would go a long way toward explaining how the mutiny happened without any word getting to the station—if there had been a mutiny.

  "Born in the Theta Belt to middle-income parents. Military father, unemployed mother. Moved around the outer colonies while aged six through fifteen. Attended small public schools, usually not for more than a year, eventually enrolled in the Arcadiuo School of Flight and Piloting. Wanted to fly freighters, eh? What happened to that dream?" He flipped through some more pages and did a bit more searching on the computer. "Wow those are bad grades. Then you transferred to a military academy with a focus on kataspace engineering and subspace systems. I'm surprised you got accepted. Hmm..."

  Strangely Gates' grades at the second school were top tier. Not perfect, but close. A huge shift in very little time. "Unusual but not unheard of... did you have a coming of age experience that forced you to grow up?" Calvin mused. "I doubt it was joining the fraternity." He checked to see if anyone else on the Harbinger had been a member of that fraternity. A few had but he didn't see any meaningful connection there. He kept notes of the different angles he wanted to investigate Gates and would then pass that along to his staff who would do the grunt work.

  Before he finished, the alert on his desk flashed on and off, followed by a shrill whistle. He tapped the button. "What is it, Sarah?"

  "You'd better get in here, sir."

  "All right, I'm on my way." He tossed his papers aside and darted for the bridge. When the door slid open he marched inside. "OK, what are we dealing with?"

  "Distress call, it's coming in ten minutes from our position at present speed," said Sarah. "It's repeating on all channels."

  "What's it say?" Calvin moved to the command position but did not sit down, even though Summers relinquished the chair.

  "It's generic and automated, repeating over and over. No details. But I recognize it. It's a standard feature on many civilian craft."

  "Too bad it doesn't give us much to work with," Calvin mumbled. "What's the nearest ship besides us?"

  "The ISS Candle, but she's docked at Tau station with most of her crew ashore," she looked up. "They might not make it in time."

  Calvin looked to Summers. "Opinion?"

  "Protocol is very clear. All Imperial ships, military or otherwise, must respond to any confirmed, authentic distress call if they are the nearest ship or within a click. We should respond."

  "Even though it takes us out of our way and gives Raidan an even bigger head start?" He tested her.

  "There could be people dying on that ship, Lieutenant Commander. This takes precedence."

  "For once I agree with you so, Sarah, lay in a course. Nice to see a human side of you, Summers. It looks good."

  Her eyes narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

  He changed the subject. "I trust you to handle this, Commander. You need experience commanding this ship," he stepped aside and pointed at the command chair.

  She nodded and took the seat. The moment she did, she snapped to action. "What can you tell me about that ship, helmsman?"

  "It's adrift, engines and thrusters are not burning. It's also small, but I can't tell what it is yet."

&n
bsp; "Ops, as soon as you can, get a good scan of it. Defense, engage the stealth system. Helm, slow to half a percent at one click's distance." She looked at Shen. "I want to know if that ship's damaged externally. If it is, there's a good chance a hostile vessel is out there ducking our sensors."

  "Aye, aye," they acknowledged her and Calvin was impressed by her command skill.

  "OK, we're within one click. Slowing to half a percent and changing approach vector," said Sarah.

  "Initiate a condition one alert on all decks, but don't raise our shields yet. I don't want to give us away."

  "You got it, bosslady," said Miles, and there was a faint chirp.

  "I said condition one, mister." Summers stood up and walked toward the defense console.

  "We are at condition one!"

  Calvin couldn't help but smirk.

  "What, no lights?" Summers looked around, the bridge seemed exactly as it had been, calmly lit by soft white lights.

  "Yeah there's lights," said Miles, pointing to the tiny flashing light on his console.

  "What about the ceiling lights and the klaxon?" Summers was dumbfounded.

  "Calvin had them removed a long time ago," said Sarah.

  Summers spun to face him. "You had them removed?"

  Calvin shrugged. "Don't you think lots of red lights and noisy alarms are exactly the kind of distracting things you don't want on the bridge during a critical moment?"

  She looked ready with a retort but Sarah cut in. "We're at five thousand meters and closing fast."

  "All stop.”

  “Answering all stop.”

  “Ops, what do you have?"

  "The vessel has no political markings of any kind and it’s flying no colors, could be that their lights are out. No obvious damage to the outer hull, though. It's a Model B personal yacht made by a Polarian corporation out of Riyu Seven. Designed for two passengers but only one life sign is aboard which appears to be stable."

  "One person?” asked Calvin. "Who'd be this deep into nowhere in a ship like that? That's like finding a speedboat in the middle of an ocean."

  "Someone with stones," said Miles.

  Summers looked at him. "Bravery and stupidity are two sides of the same coin."

  Calvin went to the ops station. "What are we dealing with, Shen? A Polarian?"

  "A human, actually." He tapped his console. "Err... now I'm not so sure."

  "What do you mean, not sure?"

  "It's a modified human, sir."

  A chill traced Calvin's spine, rippling through his body while flashes of buried memories came to mind, images from his deepest, darkest nightmares. "What kind of modified human?"

  "Database lists it as a type three remorii."

  "Ok, helm, bring us into docking range and open a channel," said Summers.

  "Belay that order!" Calvin cut in.

  Everything felt exactly like it had on the Trinity... years ago.

  "Sir?" Shen looked back at him but Calvin shifted his attention to Sarah.

  "Close the channel and accelerate to five percent until we're six hundred kilometers away then get us into a deep jump, at least eighty percent potential. We're getting the hell out of here. And, Miles, keep that stealth system engaged."

  "Sir?" Summers asked, more demanding than Shen.

  "Sarah, under no circumstances will you attempt to contact that vessel or go anywhere near it. Is that clear?"

  "Yes, sir," she said, complying immediately. "One-twenty degrees yaw and heading about."

  "We have to respond,” said Summers. "As long as he's sitting there he's harmless."

  "He's lucky I don't blow him up right now."

  Miles turned around. "It isn't too late for that, Cal. I've always got a couple of aft missiles ready to go."

  Summers stepped into Calvin's line of sight. "A word please, Lieutenant Commander." She nodded toward his office.

  "All right," he said, gesturing for her to lead the way.

  Once the door slid shut Summers erupted. "What are you doing? We have a duty to do!"

  "Sometimes, for the good of the crew, a few rules have to be broken and hard decisions made."

  "We have a duty as people, not just as officers!"

  Calvin sat down at his desk, barely able to stand. As loud as Summers was, she was nothing compared to the resurgence of buried memories twisting his brain. Everything about this whole situation felt so damn familiar, he could scarcely separate the Nighthawk and the Trinity in his mind. He could still see his friends' faces as clear as blood soaking paper, and the echo of screams spreading from deck to deck were even worse.

  He shivered, feeling unusually cold and as Summers ranted he just sat there in a deep stupor, no longer in the present.

  "You need to pay attention to me!"

  He snapped back to his whereabouts and, very calmly, looked her squarely in the eyes. "Summers, do you know what a remorii is?"

  "No."

  "It's a creature that comes from a secret planet called Remus Nine. A type three remorii is, effectively, a lycanthrope."

  "Werewolves?" Her curiosity twisted to skepticism. "There's no such thing."

  "Technically, of course, you are correct. Lycanthropes do not occur in nature. But neither do blue roses, and yet they have huge gardens of them on Capital World. You must remember the orange and blue grounds at Capitol Square, don't you?"

  "Yes."

  "Well, just as those flowers were engineered, animals have sometimes been engineered. And even though the Empire has broken its back to shut the science down, some fifty years ago the genetic experiments of Remus Nine gave birth to all kinds of modified humans. The most dominant two were types two and three, strigoi and lycanthrope. They are different, they aren't really vampires and werewolves. For example strigoi don’t need to suck blood and they don’t wear capes and live in coffins, and the lycanthropes aren’t very wolf-like in appearance. Sure, compared to a man they’re hairier, more muscular, have claws, and are feral. But otherwise they’re nothing like wolves. Some say their creation was inspired by ancient superstition and lore. I could believe that, man—as usual—isn't content until he's tried something crazy, so instead of finding The Lost City of Gold he decided to make one. And by the time the Empire caught on and put these scientists out of business, most of them were already dead—killed by their own creations. And now thousands of modified humans are still unaccounted for. Intel Wing estimates their numbers have grown."

  "They can reproduce?"

  "Not sexually. But, like a virus, they can transfer their likeness to a host. A whole, healthy human being with the right blood type does the trick. O-positive is most vulnerable. Which, unfortunately, I am."

  "So our distress call sender is a werewolf and he can turn other people into werewolves? And that's why we're not going to respond to his distress call even though duty demands it?"

  "That's correct."

  "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

  His eyes narrowed.

  She didn't back down. "What's the problem? We need silver bullets?"

  "No, regular bullets work fine. You just need a lot of them. Although incendiary seems to work best."

  "You're exaggerating."

  He gave her a deadly stare. "You know nothing about it."

  She raised a skeptical eyebrow.

  He glanced away and stared at his desk for a minute, letting the memories flow unrestrained. Even after all this time they were still excruciating, in ways he could never describe and very few people could understand. Maybe no one could. Certainly not Summers who stood there, doing her duty, demanding to know why he'd ordered them away. She needed to know why. Even if she could never appreciate it fully. There are dangerous parts of the universe that no one speaks of, and she shouldn't be ignorant of them while serving as his second.

  "Summers, have you ever heard of the ISS Trinity?"

  "Yeah it was a command cruiser for the 7th Fleet, but it had some kind of design problem and exploded a few years
ago because of a coil leak. We talked about it as a case study for particle..."

  He interrupted her. "That was just a cover-up.”

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean that isn't what actually happened."

  "And... you know this because of some kind of secret intelligence file?"

  "No." He looked at her for a few seconds. "I know this because I was there."

  She folded her arms in an attempt to look skeptical but her eyes betrayed her curiosity, he had her full attention.

  "Back before I was a member of Intel Wing I served on a navy ship. I was a Third Lieutenant—barely had the copper emblem a month—and I was a pilot in training, the inexperienced green-shift officer who saw very little flying time but, regardless, had the helm when it all went down." He chose not to tell Summers about his relationship with the young operations. Thinking of Christine's warmth and kindness was far too painful, and none of Summers' damn business.

  "I had only been on the ship for a few months and wasn't that well acquainted with most the people aboard. But I knew the XO, he'd sort of taken me under his wing. He used to teach at Camdale, where I went, and he liked to talk about home. We used to play cards and stuff. Anyway, this particular day both he and the CO were on duty to help us train. We felt like we were really getting the hang of it until we picked up that distress call."

  He paused and sipped his water bottle, letting his eyes stare past Summers and the walls around him until they disappeared. He was there again, sitting at the helm, feeling a surge of energy as the XO ordered him to change course and go to condition one.

  "We followed standard procedure," Calvin continued. "We did everything by the book, you would have been proud." He shook his head. "And as we approached, the CO had us run some scans and assess the situation while trying to contact the ship. The distress call was automated, coming from a large civilian transport called the Starweaver. She was adrift with several main systems offline but showed no external damage. We identified the ship as one that had gone missing two days before, but her present position was more than three clicks from her flight plan. And the number of life forms aboard was much less than what we’d been expecting.