The Phoenix Rising

by Richard L. Sanders

  “Can you identify that ship for us, Captain?”

  “Yes, sir. Before all communications with Renora broke down, a distress call was sent. In it, the station controller identified the ISS Black Swan as the perpetrating vessel.”

  This was not new information for the Assembly members, they’d already been sent this intelligence, but there was still a measure of shock that spread throughout the room. Nimoux shared their surprise. It made no sense for Princess Kalila’s ship to have perpetrated this tragedy.

  “The ISS Black Swan,” said Lekovic. “That’s the personal vessel of Princess Kalila Akira. Is that correct?”

  “Yes, sir. The princess is not in command of the crew, that responsibility belongs to Captain Adiger since the princess has no military qualifications. However the captain is legally bound and sworn to obey her wishes so long as they don’t compromise the safety of the ship.”

  “And would Captain Adiger be bound to follow her order to attack another ship?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And would he be bound to fire on an Imperial colony if given the order?”

  Nimoux didn’t know the answer to that. “I suppose he would, though an officer put in that situation would still probably refuse and accept court martial.”

  “Therefore do you believe it was Captain Adiger and not Princess Kalila who ordered this attack?”

  “I can only speculate,” said Nimoux. “The truth is, because no communication was established with the ship, there is no way of knowing who was operating it. Because neither Captain Adiger nor Princess Kalila had any motive to order the attack, it is my belief that the ship was taken over by some as-of-yet unidentified third party.”

  “Assuming the princess was behind the attack, is there not a political motive?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Could the generation of a crisis on an Imperial world improve her father’s possession of the Imperial throne?”

  “I am not comfortable speculating along these lines, but if I had to guess—I’d say it would have the reverse effect. It would make people question the king’s leadership.”

  “And if the instability became serious enough to require a succession in executive leadership, is it possible that Kalila herself might take the throne?”

  “I do not think so—not if Kalila were blamed for the crisis.”

  “Is it possible that Kalila had such a motive when she ordered the attack, and did not anticipate being identified as the culprit? Perhaps expecting the captain of the ship to receive the blame?”

  Nimoux looked at each of the committee members in turn once again, not really sure how this line of questioning was useful—or how he was qualified to weigh in on it. It was as if someone wanted to blame Kalila for the attack and use Nimoux’s reputation as a way of validating that claim. Perhaps she was behind the attack, but Nimoux considered the issue far from settled. “I have no comment on the political implications,” he said finally.

  “Very well, Captain,” said Lekovic. If he was disappointed by Nimoux’s response he masked it well. “Tell us, did the Black Swan operate alone, or were other ships involved?”

  “We believe it was the sole aggressor involved in the attack.”

  “How was it, by itself, able to execute such destruction? Didn’t Renora have adequate defense systems to repel an attack from one ship?”

  “Yes, it did. Its planetary defense matrix should have been able to repel a force several times the strength of the Black Swan.”

  “Then why didn’t the planet’s defenses prevent the attack?”

  Nimoux looked each of the three committee members in the eyes before replying. He wondered what they believed had happened. “I do not know,” he said at last. “We have yet to determine why the planet’s defense systems failed. Our current belief is that they were sabotaged in advance of the attack.”

  “Has Intel Wing produced a list of suspects who may have performed such sabotage?”

  “To my knowledge, our agency has not.”

  “Is it not true that such an action would have had to have been an inside job?”

  Nimoux raised an eyebrow. Again this line of questioning seemed purposeless except to implicate Princess Kalila. “I haven’t been sufficiently briefed on Renoran security protocols to answer that.”

  “What can you tell us about the targets the Black Swan chose to fire upon, were they random?”

  “No, sir. The Black Swan destroyed the orbital military infrastructure—most likely to protect itself—and fired on the planet. The damage to the surface was not widespread, however, and appears to have been a neatly contained, surgical strike targeting the Renoran seat of government.

  “The result of which has been?”

  “Since communication with the planet was restored, we’ve learned that there is a growing amount of chaos. Uprisings are popping up and both violence and looting are widespread. Local authorities are disbanding or being overthrown—and those still intact report that the situation is escalating.”

  “It is likely, Captain Nimoux, that this body will soon vote on whether or not to recommend the deployment of troops to maintain order on Renora. As a matter of principle most people here are against it. In your professional opinion, would strong action along those lines restore order more quickly, or would that only fan the flames?”

  This was probably the most serious question he had ever been asked, so he took a moment to consider it. He knew that he was held in high regard and so what he next said could conceivably sway some of the Assembly into recommending a course of action which, if heeded by the king, would greatly affect the violent situation on Renora.

  “I do not know enough about the planet or situation to recommend either way,” he said. The stakes were too severe to simply hazard a guess, and neither solution seemed like a right answer.

  “Very well, I have no other questions.”

  Nimoux nodded, expecting to be done.

  “There is another matter before us I’d like you to weigh in on, Captain,” said Representative O’Neil, the only female member of the committee. She was portly and big-faced with hair that she kept short and tidy. She was not a pretty woman, but her countenance was one of confidence and intelligence.

  He looked at her expectantly and she cleared her throat before speaking.

  “Captain, of growing concern in these intelligence reports is the rising number of ships that have gone missing. These are not random explorers on two-person skiffs skirting into unchartered deep space, these are military warships last seen inside Imperial space. One of them, the Andromeda, is a flagship carrying an admiral. Nothing has been heard from anyone on that ship for several days now. And yet no search and rescue operations have been launched. Please explain why not—and why these disappearances are happening.”

  “I do not know the answer. The last known position of most of these ships has been searched, to my knowledge, but if any of these ships were destroyed during an alteredspace jump, or if they were captured, or if they defected... we would have no idea where to even begin looking. It’s a massive galaxy out there so our searches have been limited. We’ve also avoided conducting public searches because we don’t want to spread alarm. I didn’t make the call—I’m just following orders.” He agreed that the increasing number of missing high-profile ships was of great alarm—and probably constituted a nationwide emergency. But Intel Wing had decided to keep this intelligence under wraps and only recently sent a report to the Assembly about it.

  “Tell us, Captain, is it true that your agency is conducting operations—that have been unsuccessful—to recapture a stolen dreadnought which has been implicated in several attacks on allied shipping vessels?”

  “Intel Wing is cooperating with the Fleet in a joint operation to recapture the ISS Harbinger which is still at large, yes.” He had been briefed on the Harbinger situation but wasn’t aware of the exact details since that assignment, until recently, had belonged to Lt. Commander Cross. Now it was
up in the air who was continuing that mission.

  “And your reports indicate that the Harbinger was spotted at Renora not long after the attack?”

  “Yes. Reports from the planet state that about fifteen minutes after the Black Swan left the system the Harbinger arrived. It kept its distance and did not approach the planet. After staying for about ten minutes, it jumped away.”

  “Is it your opinion that the people on the Harbinger are cooperating with those on the Black Swan?”

  “I believe the events are connected. But I doubt they are cooperating. The Harbinger arrived too late to contribute to the attack—and the ship didn’t do anything noteworthy. It stuck around long enough to complete a scan and then departed.” Nimoux believed that the Harbinger may have made its appearance for the sole purpose of being identified at the scene, but he couldn’t guess why yet and didn’t see a point in bringing it up here.

  “One final question for you, Captain,” said O’Neil, her eyes locked with his. “Your reports indicate that one of your own—a Lt. Commander Cross, who had been assigned to track the Harbinger, has become unreliable and disappeared. What kind of a threat does this present to the Empire and what is being done about it?”

  “Mister Cross’s possible defection to a foreign power, along with his ship and crew, does represent a serious danger to the empire. A great deal of information is archived on the Nighthawk that could be deadly in the wrong hands. Additionally, highly trained Intel Wing agents and an advanced stealth ship are assets of great potential strategic use for any other political power: the Rotham, the Polarians, the Alliance… honestly, it’s anyone’s guess who might be involved. However, I can assure this Committee that no expense will be spared to recapture the ship. Intel Wing understands that Mister Cross and the missing Nighthawk are an immediate threat and must be dealt with swiftly.”

  “Thank you, Captain. No further questions.”

  Nimoux left the Assembly Hall and a car took him to his hotel. He had to remain another day in case the Assembly wanted to bring him back to the floor for more questioning. He rested his mind as best he could in the idle quiet, and spent much of his time lifting weights in the rec room and swimming in the pool. The exercise was part of a structured regimen and helped clear his head. He needed to be refreshed and ready for his next assignment, which he suspected would involve one or more of the missing ships. The Andromeda, the Nighthawk, the Black Swan, the Harbinger... it didn’t really matter which. They were all threaded together somehow. And it was high time Intel Wing pulled him into the investigation.

  He got his orders the next day.

  Chapter 5

  “You’re not an easy person to get a hold of,” said Calvin.

  He stood in room C-3 of the Gemini conglomerate, on the hundred and fifteenth deck. It was simple, almost barren, with only a table, four chairs, and a small window. A woman was there, gazing out the window into the black abyss. He could see her profile, she looked about thirty years old but he wouldn’t bet heavily on it. He considered himself rather skilled at guessing people’s ages—but had learned through childhood experience not to vocalize his best guesses.

  “If I were easy to ‘get a hold of,’ I wouldn’t be very good at my job.” She turned and faced him at last; instantly he saw the resemblance.

  “So you are the mysterious Calvin Cross,” she said, looking him over with scrutiny. She folded her arms, displeased.

  “And you’re Jason Pellew’s sister, aren’t you?” The likeness between her and the top special forces officer on the Nighthawk was uncanny. And Calvin remembered Raidan telling him that Pellew had been an easy asset to recruit into his Organization because his sister was already a member. Small galaxy...

  “Very astute, Calvin Cross. Yes, I am Mira Pellew.”

  It was the face mostly, he decided. She and her brother had the same chestnut hair and striking amber eyes. She was pretty, but not breathtaking like her brother, and shared many of his harsher features. She was broad-shouldered, tall—even a smidge taller than Calvin—and had a square jaw. These masculine attributes detracted somewhat from her sexual appeal but made her appear powerful and dangerous. From her body language alone, Calvin guessed that Mira had the overall command of the Organization’s resources on Gemini—and gripped them with an iron fist.

  Fortunately Calvin was not easily intimidated. “I’ve been trying to arrange this meeting ever since I arrived. Why did it take this long?”

  “Tell me, Mister Cross, how long have you known Asari Raidan?” she asked, deflecting his question.

  He was annoyed but decided not to press the issue. “Not long.”

  “And what is the extent of your relationship with him?”

  Calvin had arranged this meeting so he could get answers, not give them. But he didn’t want to test her patience by noncompliance—in case she refused to resupply the Nighthawk—and he decided that the type of questions she asked him was still useful information to have; they revealed what she didn’t know and implied what she was most interested in. “I was the investigating officer when Raidan stole the Harbinger. I uncovered some things while chasing him that proved the Empire has been corrupted at its highest levels. I threw away my career by allowing him to go free, and he saved my ship and crew from certain death in Abia. So, I’d say our relationship has been... symbiotic. At least so far.”

  “I see.”

  Calvin couldn’t get a good read on her. She masked her emotions well and didn’t give him any clues as to her thoughts. There wasn’t much to glean from those lucid amber eyes. He decided to change the subject. “As you know, I’m currently understaffed.”

  “Yes I know. And it’s a problem that you yourself entirely manufactured,” she said.

  “What?” The accusation took him by surprise and he was offended by its implications. “I know a CO is responsible for every life under his command, but I didn’t choose for those men and women to die.” The images of violence and death on the Rotham ship in Abia were still fresh in his memory.

  “Of course you did. But I’m not talking about your dead. I’m talking about the ones you allowed to defect. Sixteen men and women, and you just... let them go?”

  “Yes,” he said somewhat defensively. “It’s not like they were my prisoners.”

  “The way I see it, you created two problems for yourself. You just released sixteen brains’ worth of information back into the jaws of the beast—people who can and will tell Intel Wing everything they know—including that you came here. And secondly, you let go of trained and expert crew when you were already understaffed from casualties sustained in your most recent action.”

  “They’re useless as crew if they don’t want to be there. And as for letting them go, I don’t think most of them know anything that’s truly dangerous to me or my cause. And, even if they did, would it really be worth holding them captive, or worse—killing them, to protect myself?”

  “You tell me. A lot rides on what we are doing. And any choice you make, such as that one, puts other people at risk, not just yourself. This whole station might be torn apart by Imperial operatives. Gemini citizens might be secretly abducted and interrogated in secret Intel Wing torture prisons. Even worse, you enabled the other side to potentially get that much more information about us. About our efforts. That small difference might be all it takes to keep us from saving the Empire.”

  “I doubt it,” said Calvin. He wasn’t about to be blamed for failing to save the Empire in the future because he didn’t detain or kill his defecting officers.

  “I’m not going to debate the issue with you, Mister Cross. The fact is you made your choice, no matter how foolish it was. And, despite that, Raidan still trusts you for some reason. At least for now… Which is why I am allowing you and your people to leave Gemini alive. Just make sure you understand that your choices have deep consequences. Even to people not on your ship.”

  “A fact I’ve never forgotten.”

  “Good,” she said, not maski
ng her overall disapproval of him. “See that you don’t.”

  “I won’t.” Despite how much he disliked her tone, and hated having strangers question his command decisions, the whole exchange had been useful. At least now he could be sure that she worked for Raidan, and not the other way around. An arrangement he’d assumed to be true, but hadn’t confirmed until now.

  “And what about my request for supplies and replacement staff?”

  “The supplies have all been approved and will be moved onto your ship later today. As for the candidates you requested to join your crew, none have changed their minds and all are preparing to report to your XO at 0700 tomorrow.”

  “Thank you.”

  “After that, you are expected to depart immediately and hunt down the Arcane Storm. I’m sure that Raidan’s continued trust hinges on your success. Therefore I wouldn’t dawdle here any longer than necessary.”

  “About that... why is that ship so important? And why has the Organization not gone after it until now?” He’d read some limited intelligence reports on it and found most of them to be useless. The only interesting detail: the Arcane Storm was suspected of transporting isotome, an unstable compound that Calvin had positively identified in the rubble of a Rotham ship—which potentially linked the Arcane Storm’s disappearance to the Rotham Republic.

  “We have gone after it—don’t think we haven’t. But the ship vanished off our radar and the few leads we have—leads Tristan will fill you in on—are not the kind just anyone can follow. Your ship is designed for this kind of mission, your stealth and sensor technology far outstrips anything we possess—and you have Tristan on board. All of these will be necessary to find the Arcane Storm. Or so Raidan believes.”

  “You didn’t tell me why the ship is so important to you. Why does it matter if I find the ship tomorrow or a year from now?”