The Phoenix Rising

by Richard L. Sanders

  When it came to selecting replacement crew for the Nighthawk, Raidan had already done the heavy lifting. He’d forwarded a list of recommended people to Calvin, many of whom fit the bill nicely. At least on paper. And, although Calvin couldn’t trust them until he got to know them, he was eager to work with many of them. They were experts in their fields, and by all appearances people of integrity and professionalism—even though some had no military experience at all. Not many of the civilian candidates piqued his interest, most of the solid applicants were former navy officers, but those who did were outstanding.

  What unnerved him most was the need for replacement soldiers. Raidan hadn’t forwarded any suggestions and Calvin had mixed feelings about inviting armed strangers onto his ship. Strangers whose loyalty was still in question. But without taking the chance and bringing aboard more forces, he would be severely limited in his ability to assign field deployments. Past experience had taught him that most missions required some kind of soldier-driven shore party. Not to mention the benefit of having more soldiers in the event their ship was boarded. He made a note in his request form that he needed some disciplined soldiers to augment his short-staffed Special Forces division, but he doubted Gemini had anyone qualified to fill the gap.

  Less than five minutes after sending the request, the panel beeped. He hoped it was Tristan agreeing to set up the meeting between him and the Organization but no such luck.

  “Hey, Calvin... got a minute?” The voice that filtered over the speakers belonged to Miles. He seemed less jovial than usual and his tone creaked with anxiety.

  “This had better not be about gambling,” replied Calvin. Even before they’d arrived in Gemini System, Calvin had forbidden Miles to participate in any gambling of any kind. He’d bailed out his dear friend once, at great expense, when the less wise man bet his way into a debtors’ detention cell on Praxis One. As far as Calvin was concerned, rescuing Miles financially was only worth doing once. His bank accounts certainly agreed.

  “Gambling? No. I’ve been good, honest.”

  “Alright then, what?” asked Calvin. If he hadn’t been gambling, then Miles had probably spent most of the time aboard the station plastered out of his mind. The local liquor selection was wider and more potent here in Polarian space.

  “Just want your take on the Renora situation. Any chance it’s linked to what happened in Abia?”

  The mere mention of Abia made Calvin’s heart start pounding and gave him a nauseous feeling. “What situation?”

  “Haven’t you been watching the news?” asked Miles.

  “No. I haven’t paid any attention to current events since we arrived.” He’d recently been cut off from the Intel Wing databases and wasn’t yet in the habit of scouring the civilian news services for their limited offerings.

  “I think you’d better.” There was a dark ominousness to Miles’ words.

  “Okay...” said Calvin, feeling a spike of anxiety. “What news service should I tune into?”

  “It won’t matter,” said Miles. “Let me know your thoughts once you get caught up on the details.” Miles disconnected.

  Calvin used the panel to connect to navigate the information nets he could and, after tuning into the primary news service of Capital World, sent the results to his display and cranked the volume.

  “—no word yet on when that will happen,” a reporter was saying. The screen was split in half with a reporter on the right and footage of violence on the left. A mob of people ran like hell every which way, fleeing heavy ordnance as it rained down and—in seconds—disintegrated the urban landscape into fire and debris. Calvin grimaced watching it. Apparently the graphic images had been captured by a witness on the ground with a somewhat low quality recorder.

  “What’s the feeling like there, Ray?” asked an off-screen voice.

  After a second or two delay, the reporter replied. “The feeling is one of intense panic and anger. Many of the people gathered here have expressed to me that they have friends and relatives on Renora. No one who spoke to me has gotten any word yet on whether or not their loved ones are safe.”

  “It’s a tragic situation indeed.” The display changed to show a man seated at a desk on a newsroom floor. He had immaculately parted hair with greying temples and stunning blue eyes. “For those just tuning in, tragedy has struck the empire. We have confirmed reports that planet Renora has been attacked and severely ravaged by an interstellar force. It is not yet known who was behind the attack, or what motivated it. The Assembly is in emergency session. No statement yet from—” he paused, listening to something being spoken over his earpiece. “We now go live to the floor of the Imperial Palace where King Akira is about to address the empire.”

  The camera jump-cut to an elegant hall where a press corps had gathered around a small podium. The image changed to a close-up of the very familiar, distinguished face of the king. His hair was thin and grey, and his red eyes and tired skin showed the fatigue and stress that taxed him. But as he spoke, his voice was firm and resolute, and revealed no weakness and asked for no sympathy.

  “Citizens and subjects of the empire, wherever you may be, I implore you to remain calm. I can confirm that there has indeed been an attack on Renora. We cannot estimate the casualties yet but, so far, early reports indicate that the attack was limited to the government center and the orbital structures. It is a shocking and terrible injustice that occurred today, an attack on freedom itself. A great and terrible evil has shown its head. But fear not! As shepherd and guardian of this great nation, I swear to you, this attack will not go unanswered. Justice will be done. Our military in every system has been put on high alert status; the safety and security of this empire will be protected! The wheels are in motion and the peace and prosperity of this great nation will continue to prevail.”

  After these few words, the king walked away from the podium, unwilling to take any questions, and the camera jump-cut back to the studio. Calvin switched the broadcast off and began searching the public network for any information he could dig up on Renora and the attack. There wasn’t much at this point—mostly speculation—but what little there was made no kind of sense.

  Renora was a system on the edge of the empire, near Polarian space. Its only inhabited planet was also named Renora and boasted a population of about eight billion. Like most Imperial worlds, its government was centered into an urban district and from there the logistics of the planet were run. Apparently that part of the planet had been the exclusive target and had been savagely bombed from orbit. Who the attacking ship—or fleet—was remained a closely guarded secret, and how the attacking force had bypassed the planet’s defenses was another mystery.

  Five minutes after the attack commenced, the planet sent its final message. Then it had gone dark and stopped sending broadcasts of any kind. It was largely believed that the attacking force had wiped out the communication infrastructure that connected the planet to the rest of the empire via kataspace. Since then all traffic to Renora had been diverted and military and intelligence ships had undoubtedly raced to the scene. The Intel Wing archives probably had a great deal more information, but unfortunately Calvin could no longer access them.

  “Who could have done this?” he asked himself aloud as he scanned over an extensive list of planetary defenses that had apparently been inadequate to repel the attack. He ran through his list of possible suspects in his head—anyone with enough power to execute such a deadly strike. No motive for any of the groups stood out to him.

  The Polarians were near Renora, but they were generally uninvolved in Imperial politics. Being far more interested in their own affairs and spiritualism. The Rotham government had the means, but only risked war by such an action—and had selected a strategically useless target. As for the empire itself, Calvin was afraid to think it had the motivation, and the ruthlessness, to bomb its own people. Smaller cells and terrorist groups probably didn’t have the means to perform such a high profile attack, for instance he couldn
’t imagine CERKO—which had failed to even assassinate him—to be able to calculate and execute something like this. And lastly he considered Raidan’s Organization but doubted it had an interest in harming the very people it claimed to be defending. So he was left unable to form a hypothesis. And his insides ate at him, filling him with a rush of anxiety. A compelling need to comprehend an increasingly confusing picture. He guessed that Miles was right, that this attack, and what they’d seen at Abia, and the changes in the government... was all connected. It had to be.

  He did not believe Renora was an arbitrary target, but wasn’t quite sure why it had been selected for such abuse. Strategically, its positioning was worthless. It didn’t keep a very large military presence and was not a good striking position into, or out of, the empire. As for its local resources, Renora was no better endowed than the average Imperial system, and didn’t offer anything unique. The only novelty of the planet seemed to be its culture. The mostly unpopular, but growing, pro-democracy social movement had its origins there. And Renora was home to several of the most liberal universities staffed with the professors who published the most controversial papers.

  The empire had elements of representative government, but the largest consolidation of power rested in the hands of the monarch. And that had never satisfied the revolutionary culture of Renora. Media there had on more than one occasion criticized the king harshly, and there was more sympathy there towards historic enemies of the empire than existed anywhere else—particularly aimed at the Rotham Republic. Many of the elites of Renora admired the republican government of the Rotham, and had pushed for social reforms to mirror their “progress.”

  Such reforms had almost universally failed to take root. But, in this corner pocket of the empire, these ideas were trendy and popular. Though they had never risen to such prominence as to enter the dialog anywhere else. Imperial forces maintained order from the government center and the local leadership, combined with Imperial administration, had kept the system in line. Now that the pro-Empire faction had been mostly wiped out... Calvin guessed that the planet would see a great deal of unrest.

  The panel beeped again. This time with the reply to his requisition forms. It was from Tristan.

  “The additional resources you requested are being organized and will be made available for transfer as soon as possible. Additionally, the Gemini Director has agreed to meet with you. Tomorrow. 0930 L.T. Come alone to deck one-hundred and fifteen. Room C-3. Don’t be late.”

  It’s about time...

  Chapter 4

  When the IWS Desert Eagle arrived at Capital World, it was rushed to the top of the docking queue and cleared almost immediately. Captain Nimoux went aboard the station alone where a party of government aids and marines was waiting for him.

  “It is an honor to meet you, sir,” said the leader of the group. He was a middle-aged man in a suit-and-tie with dyed black hair and teeth that were just a little too white to be natural. He extended a hand and Nimoux shook it uncomfortably, he hated the celebrity treatment he received these days. And found it only hindered the effectiveness of his work as an intelligence operative.

  “I was expecting to see Director Edwards,” said Nimoux.

  “The Director apologizes that he couldn’t be here. An urgent matter detained him on the planet surface. But I will fill you in on the way.”

  The aid briefed Nimoux as he and the others walked briskly through the crowded orbital station, which had a stronger-than usual military presence on every deck. Even though it had been almost a standard day since the attack on Renora, the high alert status remained in effect empire-wide.

  Nimoux and his escort took a military gunship, which was waiting for them, and departed at once for the planet. The tiny craft plummeted toward the surface at a much steeper angle than Nimoux was used to, charging through pockets of air turbulence like they didn’t matter.

  The aid finished his briefing—which didn’t tell Nimoux anything new. Just gave him a summary of what he could expect when he met with the Assembly, including a review of etiquette. No explanation for why he’d been summoned to the Assembly floor to weigh in as an expert witness during the ongoing emergency session. He hadn’t been at Renora during the attack, or anywhere near it, so he doubted he would be of much use. But orders were orders. And on the off-chance that he could contribute something useful, he was happy to.

  The view out the window was marvelous and Nimoux took in the spectacular sight of the brightly-lit, urban supersprawl spread out before him. More people lived here than any other planet in the galaxy—nearly nineteen billion. The enormous population yielded awesome productivity but was hell to sustain. Capital World was the only planet in the empire that was resource upside-down. Energy, food, and even fresh water had to be imported. And every day thousands of freighters needed to dock with one of the planet’s dozens of orbital platforms to unload supplies which were then shipped below.

  Most of the surface was covered in ocean, but where there was land, it was painted over by massive skyscrapers that reached up for kilometers. Nearly all the surface flora had been cleared away and the planet was only kept habitable by the tremendous amount of marine life—which the government avidly protected.

  Seen from the heavens, the great, glittering anthill that was home to so many billions of humans seemed like madness. But there was an order to the madness. And Nimoux doubted anyone could gaze down upon it without feeling a sense of awe.

  They landed and took a car to the Assembly Hall in the Capitol District. It was an enormous, immaculate white building with marvelously landscaped grounds. Security was heavy and it was a process gaining admittance, even though he was expected.

  Eventually he was taken inside and brought to the antechamber of the Assembly Floor. There his escort left him and he pushed on through the main entrance alone.

  The Assembly Floor was an enormous room, lusciously decorated with rich burgundy carpet, sweeping tapestries along the far wall, and more than a few tasteful—if not a bit ostentatious—statues. The most prominent feature was the stadium-like set of stacked balconies that surrounded the room, seating for all three-hundred and seventy-eight members of the Assembly. Nimoux guessed that many of these seats were often left vacant due to absent representatives, however today the chamber was packed full of bodies. Virtually every seat around and above him was filled by a diverse collection of people, representing every planet in the empire.

  On the bottom level there was a table with three seats and a microphone. A few meters away, facing opposite, was a raised platform that seated three senior Assembly members. He walked along the aisle, ignorant of the heated debate currently raging, and took his seat at the table. There he collected his thoughts and waited. Mentally sorting through the most recent intelligence dispatches he’d been sent.

  After a few minutes, an end was called to the debate and the pandemonium diminished. “The Assembly recognizes Captain Lafayette Nimoux of Intelligence Wing on the witness stand at this time,” said Representative Lekovic, the ranking Assembly member seated opposite him. He and the other two senior officials on his flanks, a man and a woman, stared down at Nimoux from their elevated platform. All looked tired. Nimoux doubted any had slept since news of the attack on Renora.

  At the sound of his name, the Assembly broke out into applause. Nimoux felt his face redden with embarrassment and he waited uncomfortably for the praise to die down.

  “Captain,” Lekovic spoke again, when he did all hints of clapping ceased. “I will begin by saying that, for all of us—regardless of our affiliated Houses—it is indeed an honor to have you with us today. The citizens of the Empire sleep easier at night knowing there are men and women like you out there. On behalf of everyone here, I thank you for your service.”

  Nimoux leaned into his mic. “Thank you, sir.” He was the most decorated, most successful operative in Intel Wing history, but the distinction made him feel more guilty than proud. He’d just as soon not have it.

/>   “Captain, the issue before us today is one of national security. You have been brought before us as an expert witness to testify regarding the state of the Empire in general and the Renora Crisis in particular. Do you understand?”

  “I do.”

  “Good. Now, before we proceed, I must ask you to rise and raise your right hand and take the oath.”

  Nimoux stood up and raised his hand. A nearby marshal of security read him the oath.

  “Do you swear and affirm that the testimony you are about to give before the Assembly, and the Committee on Internal Security, is the complete and unimpeachable truth?”

  “I do.”

  “Let the record show that the witness answered in the affirmative,” said Lekovic. “Captain, you are now under oath.”

  “I understand.”

  “You will have five minutes for an opening statement or you may submit a longer statement for inclusion in the session record. Captain Nimoux, do you have an opening statement?”

  “No, sir,” said Nimoux. There had been no reason to prepare one and asking him for one was simply a formality.

  “Then we’re going to go right into questions. I will begin,” said Lekovic. “Captain, please describe for us what happened at Renora. We have all been briefed but, for the sake of the record and any Assembly member still in the dark, tell us what happened exactly.”

  “About twenty-eight hours ago, a ship entered the Renora system that had not been scheduled. That ship approached the main starport and interrupted traffic around the planet. The controller ordered the ship to alter course, but the ship refused to comply or communicate. Sentry ships attempted to contain the vessel but it refused to respond, and rammed one of the sentry ships—killing everyone on board. The intruding vessel then armed its weapons and fired on both the station and the planet. The starport and government center were both destroyed. Casualties are estimated in the hundreds of thousands, including nearly every government official. The ship then left the system.”