The Phoenix Rising Read online

  “Probably using the computer in there,” guessed Miles. “Calvin gave him access to it.”

  “What? He has access to the Nighthawk’s computer?”

  “Very limited access,” said Miles. “He can do some basic research using the public networks and I think he’s in contact with Raidan. But he can’t get to any privileged information on the ship or do anything that would affect system operations.”

  Because Shen had not been the one to setup this limited-purpose user account which Tristan had been given, his first instinct was to panic and assume it had been done incorrectly. However, once he calmed down, he knew that was unlikely.

  But he still didn’t like the idea. “Why would he need to be able to do any kind of research?”

  “Because he’s giving us our ultimate course and heading,” replied Miles, sounding as nonchalant as he could. Shen knew better. Miles was like a puffer fish, always overcompensating, which made him easy to read. His posture was exaggerated, he pumped excessive confidence into his voice, and he hid behind a forced smile... the man was terrified. Shen didn’t blame him.

  “Why is the werewolf giving us our course and heading?”

  “Calvin’s orders,” said Sarah.

  “Yeah, but why?”

  “I don’t know,” she said.

  “And where are we going?”

  “Into the DMZ. Calvin wouldn’t say where exactly.”

  “Alright, cut the chatter,” said Summers.

  Shen was surprised Summers had let the chit chat go on this long. He hadn’t the faintest idea why they were going into the DMZ—and trusting Tristan to guide the ship. And he was even more confused why Calvin had decided to leave Miles and Sarah in the dark; they were some of his closest friends. But Shen had to assume Calvin had his reasons.

  After a few minutes of silence, Miles resumed his complaining about the food. Summers told him to zip it. And Shen looked at Sarah. Their eyes met. She smiled, as if sharing a joke with him. Probably thinking that some things never change. But as he smiled back, he did so for a different reason.

  He’d spent a lot of time laid up in recovery, resting and thinking. Soul-searching. Contemplating. And eventually he’d come to the conclusion that it was time to steel himself and admit his feelings to Sarah. She was everything wonderful. And time spent with her was his favorite part of life. Yes, he thought as his eyes soaked in her thick brown hair and sweet honest smile—he had to tell her. No matter how she reacted. No matter what it cost him. He couldn’t go on without making his feelings known.

  It was just a matter of how to tell her, and when. He didn’t want to rush into it.

  ***

  Calvin eventually did get around to meeting all the Polarians. He’d postponed doing it. He’d avoided it. Polarians had always made him feel somewhat intimidated and uncomfortable. But he eventually went to them. They were not set up in the barracks with the human soldiers on the ship, instead a few crew quarters on the lower decks had been converted for their use. They slept as many as five to a room.

  “We have enough extra quarters to house you two to a room,” Calvin had told their second in command, a young Polarian who was also Rez’nac’s son.

  “No, human, it is not our way to be so alone. We are brothers in all things.”

  Calvin didn’t quite understand the response, but wasn’t going to force better housing arrangements upon them. If they preferred to live like sardines, somehow finding a kind of superior unity in closeness, so be it.

  As he introduced himself to them one by one, the Polarians reacted to him differently. The handful of older Polarians, like Rez’nac, treated him as though his presence among them was a kind of sacred honor. The younger Polarians, who were curiously more deeply blue in color and showed no signs of fading or grey in their skin, were almost dismissive of him. He was just a human to them. An imperial. And probably most damning of all, not part of their religion. He could see it in their eyes; they felt they owed him nothing, not even respect, and only would cooperate with him because it was the will of their leader, Rez’nac, to whom they all belonged. Calvin didn’t understand many of the social mechanics of the Polarian way of life, but these men, who seemed fierce and battle-hardened, felt more like honored slave warriors than voluntary paid soldiers. It was very different from Imperial culture.

  After meeting them, Calvin returned to his duties. He met with fellow human officers, and spent the next thirty-six hours sleeping, researching, contemplating, and getting the various opinions of Tristan, Alex, Summers, and Pellew regarding their mission. Mostly to validate to himself that he was doing the right thing going after the Arcane Storm and the isotome weapons, and not letting Raidan and the Organization manipulate him into chasing a red herring. Perhaps to divert his attention away from the ongoing situation on Renora—which was getting bloodier by the day.

  He wanted to race over there and begin his own investigation, especially to decide whether or not Kalila had been involved, but he knew that—should the isotome weapons exist—an uprising on a single planet was nothing compared to the destruction of an entire star system. That had to remain his top priority, at least until the issue was conclusively settled.

  Calvin noticed Shen back on active duty near the end of White Shift. It was great to see his friend but Calvin wasn’t sure the man was ready. Ideally, Shen could use more rest and recovery time. But with their stretched manpower, requiring more and more injured personnel in every department to return to active duty, it was a regrettable truth that they needed Shen back at his post.

  Once Calvin reached his quarters, intending to retire for some much needed sleep, he received a message from Rez’nac asking him to attend the first Polarian religious service right away. Calvin wasn’t interested in doing anything but sleep so he politely asked Rez’nac to delay.

  “I will honor your wishes, for this ship is yours and we are but guests in this house. But the Pon’yor should not be delayed too long.” Calvin was surprised at the urgency in Rez’nac’s voice.

  “The Pon’yor?”

  “It means The Offering. We must pledge our loyalty to the ancestors so we may have safe passage through space. We cannot rest until it is performed. Otherwise we risk being lost in the cosmos forever.”

  Of course… Rez’nac went on to explain more about the ritual, and made it clear to Calvin that the Polarians would be very uncomfortable until it was completed. He wondered if this would have been an issue had he not volunteered the use of the observation deck for their religious practices.

  “Alright, alright,” said Calvin, cutting Rez’nac off after a while. “Let’s do it now.”

  “Thank you, you are a wise master.”

  ***

  When Calvin entered the observation deck, he felt very out of place. The Polarians had already arrived and assembled into a circular pattern encompassing most of the room. In the middle of the ring stood both Rez’nac and his son, the two highest ranking Polarians on the ship. Rez’nac stood in the exact center and his son a meter away.

  “Welcome, Captain,” said Rez’nac. “This is the Urikh-jang.”

  Calvin nodded. He had no idea what that meant. He went to the nearest corner and stood out of their way, arms folded.

  “What is he doing here?” asked Rez’nac’s son.

  Before the older Polarian could reply, the door whisked open again and Rain entered. Calvin barely knew her, but he was so glad to see her. Another confused human face was a welcome sight. She took in the scene very briefly, clearly not understanding the significance of the standing arrangements either, then wandered over next to Calvin.

  “There are now two rakh here!” said Rez’nac’s son.

  “They are not rakh!” replied Rez’nac. “They are my invited guests. Watch your tongue, Grimka.”

  “Humans have no place here,” Grimka fired back. Calvin noted that the young Polarian’s defiance of his own father, and master of their unit, seemed to provoke disdain and discomfort in the older Polari
ans but, curiously, the younger ones seemed to sympathize with Grimka. At least that was the vibe Calvin got. It was difficult to be sure.

  “We can leave if we’re causing a problem,” said Rain.

  “You are welcome among us, female healer,” assured Rez’nac.

  “She is the healer? The one who would violate our blood with her unsanctified human arts?” asked Grimka.

  Rez’nac had clearly had enough of his son’s defiance. “Silence! I am your master. I am of the essence of Khalahar! Unless you would challenge Khalahar you will not speak again until I permit you!”

  The younger Polarian, whose deep blue skin contrasted noticeably with the pale grey of his father’s, bowed his head in submission. Rez’nac accepted the gesture and began the religious rite. He uttered a sort of prayer, asking the ancestor essences to protect the ship from the dark spirits wandering the cosmos, the black forces of space, and the negative energy that causes death.

  As Rez’nac chanted, which he did in the human language—no doubt for the benefit of Calvin and Rain—the others joined in, vocalizing their own contributions to the prayer. They chanted in unison in Polarian. Calvin had no idea what the others were saying. Their language was beautiful, despite being incomprehensible, and had a melodious quality. Almost like singing.

  Together, as if on cue, the Polarians raised their arms and held them outstretched, high towards the ceiling—almost touching it, and their prayer increased in ferocity. Fire burned in their eyes, the glow of devout passion that Calvin had seen in only the most pious. Even religious humans typically performed their rites more out of habit than heart, but here he saw genuine faith in action. It was a powerful thing. Almost frightening. And seeing this fierce religious devotion burning in the Polarian eyes, and radiating from their faces, and echoing in their almost song-like prayer, he understood why the Polarian religious leaders were said to have such influence over the Confederacy, despite having no technical political power.

  “It’s beautiful,” whispered Rain.

  “Yes,” Calvin agreed, although scary seemed like a more appropriate word. He needed only to glance at history to see the kinds of feats, both amazing and diabolical, that people could do when charged with an almost spiritual mandate. Whether commanded by God, or some other higher power or reason, it was impressive, and frightening, what people had accomplished.

  The prayer ritual took over thirty minutes and involved many other poses and gestures. The circle rotated around Rez’nac, who remained fixed at the center—facing the window out into space, and the tones of the prayer varied from loud and enthusiastic to hushed and reverent, but always the passion of true belief was there.

  Calvin watched them, surprised to find he was never bored. In them, in their passionate devotion, he saw a kind of fire that he did not understand. He thought that ultimately their beliefs were founded on superstitious nonsense, but despite having a fictional origin they were very real. The Polarians made them real. They glowed with purpose and clarity. Their universe was not shades of frustrating grey; it was simple, defined, and clear. He pitied them for not being free to develop their own individual beliefs—and yet he admired their unity. Rez’nac ended the prayer with a renewed vow of allegiance to his calling, as a part of the essence of Khalahar, and his commitment to lead this small brotherhood in righteous ways so that they would achieve the glory of those who’d gone on before. Having done a little research, Calvin now understood that Polarians believed their honored dead lived on not as individual spirits but as part of great collectives called essences. Khalahar was considered one of the highest ranking essences—making Rez’nac a big deal to the other Polarians.

  At some point in a male Polarian’s life, he would be sorted into a caste. Their castes, which reflected tremendous inequality and defined what that person would spend his life doing, were not decided by lineage, or tests, but by arbitrary classification, which stated what one’s essence was. The Polarian Seers sorted the young Polarians—apparently randomly—into their essences. Which was something they could never change. To them that branding was unimpeachably true. A more accurate reflection of their identity than their imperfect flesh. A very interesting culture to Calvin, but not one he wished to be a part of.

  The ritual ended and Rez’nac excused the other Polarians. As they filed out, he approached Calvin and Rain. “Thank you for joining us. I hope our ways are agreeable to you.”

  “Yes,” said Calvin, not exactly sure what Rez’nac was implying. “Your people are obviously very spiritual and sincere,” he tried not to sound condescending. Truthfully he wasn’t sure what response would be appropriate. He was glad to have been here and observed it, but wasn’t very interested in repeating the experience. Not because he was anti-religion, he wasn’t, he simply didn’t relate.

  “Your ways are beautiful,” said Rain. “Even if I could only follow them a little.”

  “Thank you, you are both free to join us as often as you wish,” Rez’nac smiled, though the expression didn’t flatter him. His teeth were too jagged and fierce and the harsh muscles of his face and jaw only tightened—a predator’s smile.

  “Thanks, I’ll… think about it,” said Calvin.

  Rain merely nodded. Rez’nac accepted this and left Calvin and Rain alone on the observation deck.

  Rain walked over to the great window—it showed nothing but the expansive black nothingness of alteredspace. She took in a deep breath and absorbed the scene, as if the pervasive emptiness was a beautifully woven tapestry. “Do you suppose they’re right?” she asked, not looking at him.

  “What?” He walked up to her and stared out the window too, trying to see what had captivated her. There was only blackness and their vague reflections bouncing off the window. He noted a look of perfect calm on Rain’s face.

  “The Polarians,” she said. “Do you think they’re right?”

  “About what?”

  “That their ancestors watch over them?”

  “No,” said Calvin. “Do you?”

  “I admit I believe something is out there,” she said, not taking her eyes away from the window. “It has to be.”

  Calvin wasn’t so sure. It was a question that sometimes kept him up at night. He didn’t know the purpose of life, or the universe. He’d never conclusively decided if it was designed or randomly generated. If he was a puppet on a stage or a mere accident. The depth and complexity of the mystery, and humankind’s ultimate destiny within it, made him squirm. He usually avoided thinking about it.

  “Do you think something is out there?” she asked, looking at him.

  “A lot of stuff is out there,” he said. “Stars, planets, black holes—”

  “You know what I mean,” she said, interrupting him gently. “A designer. An ultimate purpose. The clockwork perfection of the universe. The improbability that we’d ever come to be. And yet here we are. It all seems like... part of something much, much bigger than we can see.”

  “Maybe,” said Calvin. “Although if we were designed, it does beg the question of who designed the designer.”

  Rain shrugged. “Maybe God is a sentient thinking being. Maybe God is merely the natural forces of the universe itself. I don’t know,” she gave him a candid look. “I have no idea. But I believe something is out there. We’re more than just the sum of our parts.”

  Calvin nodded. He supposed that was as possible as anything else, but he didn’t claim to know anything for sure. Nor did he believe anyone could. Sometimes he thought of Christine and fantasized about an existence post-death that would re-unite him with her. Like she stood at the platform of an ancient rail station waiting for him. But it was wishful thinking. He didn’t like the idea that Christine, Monte, and so many other good people were lost forever. That their wonderful uniqueness, colorful personalities, and beautiful characters had now ceased to be. But there was no compelling evidence that he could see to think otherwise.

  Perhaps the Polarians were not so strange, he supposed. He could underst
and the need for some kind of answer to the ultimate question. Even if it turned out to be a wrong answer, it still offered them a sense of purpose and closure.

  “Are you afraid to die?” asked Rain.

  Calvin had to think about it before replying. “Yes,” he eventually admitted. He wasn’t terrified of death, but the inevitability of it—and inescapability—gnawed at him from time to time.

  “Why?” asked Rain. “Death comes for everyone. It is a part of life. Why fear it?”

  “Because it’s an unknown,” said Calvin. “Humans usually fear the unknown. And death is an irreversible state. There’s no coming back from it. And it very easily could be the end of all your dreams, pleasures, and hopes.”

  “Death doesn’t bother me,” she said, sincerity in her voice. “The way I see it, we are all spectacularly lucky to have ever been alive at all. It is such a privilege to be a part of this great, beautiful mystery, to see a glimpse of it. To play a role on the center stage, even if for just the briefest of moments. We got the grand chance to be a part of the greatest story ever told. However it began, however it ends, doesn’t matter. It’s wonderful just to experience even a fragment of it. With all its marvels and flaws, all its pleasures and pains. What a magnificent opportunity.”

  “That’s one way of looking at it,” said Calvin, a bit surprised by Rain’s optimism.

  “If I looked at it any other way,” she said, again staring out the window. “If I feared death, or the unknown, or the inevitable… I couldn’t be as happy as I am just embracing the sliver of time that I have.”

  As Calvin looked at her, and heard her raw conviction, he knew these were not empty words. She was genuinely at peace with death. More so than anyone he’d ever met. It was a curious thing, and he wondered how she’d freed herself.

  “Well, it was nice talking to you,” he said, not quite sure how best to break away from the situation. “It’s been fun but I really need to get some sleep.”