The Phoenix Conspiracy

by Richard L. Sanders

  "It's a bad situation, but we have to work with it. Remember, it's very important that you don't step on the toes of the Fifth Fleet. I'll work my angle from here to make sure they don't hamper the investigation too much. But stay out of their way, do what they want, and let me worry about it, okay?"

  "Yes, sir," said Calvin. He hated red tape, especially when it served no purpose but to get in the way. "In the meantime, Jack, can you send me everything you have on the Harbinger? I want to look it over? Manifest, personnel files, last known position and heading, everything."

  "Yeah, we'll transfer everything we have to the Nighthawk's computer. Do you have the latest decryption software aboard?"

  "I'd have to ask Shen, but I think so. They did some updates when we first made port."

  "Good. And Calvin... don't let me down."

  "I never do. But there's another problem. I'm short an officer; the Fifth Fleet stole my XO. Can I have him back?"

  "No but thanks for reminding me." Jack cleared his throat again. "As part of our agreement with Fleet Command you're taking a Navy Officer aboard as your XO."

  "What?" Calvin didn't even try to hide his surprise. "That makes no sense. He won't know anything about the ship or how our operations work."

  "There isn’t any available Intel Wing staff at Praxis to fill the role. And your new officer is a she, not a he."

  "Whatever.”

  Jack gave him a hard look. "I don’t think I like your tone."

  "Sorry, sir. I only meant that the more restrictions I have to deal with the harder it will be to conduct this investigation."

  "Would you rather be tracking finance accounts from behind a desk on Capital World?"

  "Point taken, sir."

  "I understand your grievances but you'll just have to deal with them. Get your new XO up to speed so you can use her. As long as you keep her happy and involved, that'll make everything easier with the Fifth Fleet."

  Calvin resisted the urge to complain again. The fact that Intel Wing had to cater to Fleet Command just to do their job was ludicrous. Intel Wing never went to the Fleet Admirals to demand they deploy their squadrons in different ways. Why should the Fleet get any say on how an intelligence investigation is conducted?

  "And as the final term of our compromise, any reports you make will have to be simulcast to both me and Vice Admiral Harkov of the Fifth Fleet. She will be following the investigation from Fleet Command's side."

  "I have to report to Fleet Command?"

  "Yes. And it's very important that you send us the reports simultaneously and that they are exactly the same."

  "Well that sucks," said Calvin. "So if I don't want Fleet Command to know something I can't let you know it either?"

  "That's correct. And don't try to go around that. I know you. I know you'll try to think of some clever way to feed me information you don't want them getting their hands on. But they will be able to monitor any and all transmissions originating from your kataspace connector."

  "That really, really sucks. Are there any concessions you didn't make, sir? You make it sound like Fleet Command is running this investigation."

  "For all intents and purposes, they are. I'll try to keep everything out of your way and you just focus on finding the Harbinger. Let me worry about the politics."

  "Okay."

  "That's all I have for you. Get your crew ready and I'll get you all our data and see that your ship is released. Good luck."

  "Thank you, sir,” said Calvin and the terminal shut off. He let out a deep sigh of frustration, and then sent a message to his crew.

  ***

  The hum of the printer quit and Calvin grabbed the next batch of documents sent to the Nighthawk by Intel Wing. They'd sent it all to him electronically, but after his computer decrypted them he wasted no time printing hard copies. Technically he was not allowed to do this—but he just hated reading enormous documents on unsoftened screens. It bothered his eyes.

  His desk had collected quite a pile and he didn't relish the thought of reading through it all in the kind of meticulous detail required. Most people thought being an Intelligence Officer meant you had access to all kinds of private information and military secrets. And to a certain extent that was true, on a need-to-know basis. But mostly what you'd be downloading to your brain was personnel rosters, account information, transaction details, rap sheets, anything and everything that might be pertinent to a particular case. Most of which turned out to be useless, peripheral junk. But for the sake of those few buried gems, every single scrap of information had to be considered; even the tiniest detail might be the difference between a solved case and a permanent mystery.

  So, without any joy, Calvin returned to his desk and began scanning through the latest Intel. This batch was the service records of the engineering staff.

  Jon Kwalski received a demerit for missing a shift on 10.05.1212... that was six years ago, can't they let it go? He also won a blue-water service award for completing a spacewalk repair in record time... blah, blah, blah...

  A chirp interrupted his reading. He tapped the button on his desk. "Yes?"

  "Captain to the bridge."

  "What is it?"

  "The main hatch has sealed and the commander is aboard.”

  "Thank you, Shen." He released the switch and locked the files in a desk drawer. He took only a second to smooth out the wrinkles of his uniform and clear his throat before marching for the bridge door. He wanted to make it clear to whoever his new XO was, some navy officer, that he was in charge. And he wasn't going to be changing any of his active protocols to whatever they did in the navy.

  The door slid aside and he stepped onto the bridge and looked it over.

  Sarah grinned from behind the helm and Shen sat at operations. But the defense post was vacant.

  "Where's Miles?"

  "Knowing him, still asleep on Praxis One," said Sarah as she shrugged. Calvin looked to Shen.

  "He came aboard with the Commander's party. I'm sure he's on his way."

  "All right," instead of taking his chair, Calvin moved to the back of the bridge where the main door was. "Patch me through to Director Edwards."

  "Yes, sir. Just gimmie a second," said Sarah.

  A minute later the Director’s face appeared on the screen. "What is it, Lieutenant Commander?"

  "Have you freed my ship?"

  "Affirmative. You're ordered to disembark as soon as you’re ready."

  "Any new Intel?"

  "We’ve confirmed the Harbinger’s heading is Aleator System. But you’ll have to take it from there."

  "Thanks." The transmission closed and the screen went dark again. "OK, Sarah, contact the control tower, let's get this show on the road."

  "With pleasure." As she tapped away and spoke into her headset, requesting clearance, Calvin turned his eyes to the large window, thinking how glad he'd be when he saw stars again instead of the grey, docking-bay walls.

  The elevator door opened and he turned to face his new executive officer. Her blue-and-black uniform stood out like a sore thumb in an environment of black-and-silver, and her stunning physique, radiant eyes, and bright hair were all too familiar. "You?” asked Calvin.

  Summers Presley's expression became a mixture of both confusion and offense. He cleared his throat. "...should know you're welcome aboard. So … welcome aboard," he faked a smile but didn't miss her raised eyebrow. "Your post is over here." He motioned toward the command seats in the center.

  "Thank you, sir." She said. Her voice was pointedly neutral but he could tell she was irritated. Perhaps she was no happier about this arrangement than he was.

  "We're good to go, sir," said Sarah. "We have clearance to launch along standard vector through gate one."

  "Good, Sarah, disengage the docking clamps and, now that you're here Commander, we're ready to..." Calvin spotted the empty defense post again and cut himself off. He looked back at Summers. "Where's Miles?"

  "I'm sorry, who?"

  "Di
dn't one of my officers come aboard with you?"

  "No one higher than a petty officer."

  He spun to face ops. "Shen, I thought you said Miles came aboard the Commander’s group."

  "I didn’t say that. But Miles was supposed to."

  "Okay, Sarah, cancel the launch and re-engage those clamps. Shen, find out what happened to Miles." Calvin took his seat and ran a hand through his hair.

  "I'll get a demerit form," said Summers from his side. Calvin spun his chair.

  "A what?" He hadn't heard the term in so long it took him a second to remember what it was. "No, just... don't worry about it." He wasn't going to fill out some demerit slip.

  "With all due respect, sir," Presley said. "This calls for discipline."

  "It's nothing. Look, I'm sure he's got a good excuse and he's probably on his way."

  "Found him, sir," Shen piped in.

  "See."

  "He's in a detention unit. It seems our unlucky friend amassed something of a gambling debt and he's forbidden to go off world until he pays it."

  "Dammit, Miles..." Calvin stood up. "Okay send them an order from Intel Wing to release him from lock up."

  "No can do. He signed some kind of contract before playing those tables. Unless Intel Wing wants to foot the bill it'd be a breach of interworld regs."

  "He sounds like trouble. I can get someone transferred over from the Fleet," said Summers.

  "No, no,” said Calvin sharply. The last thing he needed was another robot from the Fleet.

  "Or I could take the White Shift myself. I used to be a defense officer," she said.

  "It's all right, that won't be necessary, Summers. I'm not giving up one of my best officers."

  "Commander."

  "What?" He looked at her, confused.

  "My rank, it's commander."

  Oh right, he'd forgotten about that protocol. He'd have to let her know how he did things on his ship, but that was a battle for another time. Instead he ignored her and looked back at Shen.

  "How much is the debt?"

  "30,000q."

  Sarah whistled. "That's more than he makes in a year."

  Calvin thought about it for a moment. "All right, all right. I'll cover it. Let me wire the funds over to them."

  "What?" the bridge exploded with surprise.

  "You'll cover it?” asked Summers, her face was white with shock and disdain that a commanding officer would cover for an undisciplined inferior and pay such a fortune to do it. But she just couldn't understand how far back Miles and Calvin went, and she couldn't know that as good as Miles was at losing money, he was even better at his job—second to none.

  Calvin shrugged. "He'll repay every q." But he knew Miles would never be able to. That, however, was unimportant to Calvin. He didn't have an infinite flow of wealth, but he made more than he spent. And the money really wasn't that valuable to him.

  He moved to the ops station and logged into one of his bank accounts. After wiring over the money, they received confirmation that Miles had been released and was on his way over.

  "What do you think it'll take, half an hour?" Calvin wondered.

  "The detention center is on the fifteenth deck of the outpost, and since he can skip most of the security check at the terminal I'm thinking fifteen minutes," said Shen.

  "As soon as he's aboard, get us out of here. And let me know when he's on the bridge. In the meantime, I'll be in my office doing a little reading." Calvin decided he'd prefer to be milling over the datasheets than idle on the bridge. As he turned for the door he caught sight of Summers whose face looked like it was going to explode with frustration. But, being the dutiful officer that she was, she kept her cool. For now.

  "Commander, maybe you'd better come with me." He nodded toward the door and she stood up and followed him into his office. He sat down at his desk and she stood by the door, it closed behind her.

  "Thirsty?" He asked nodding toward a stack of waterbottles.

  "No thank you, sir."

  He stretched his arms then folded them behind his head. "We got off on the wrong foot earlier, Commander." He fought the impulse to look her up and down. "In the terminal before the trial, I mean."

  "Oh?" She raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry I don't remember."

  "Good," said Calvin, doubting her. "Then we should have no trouble starting over. Now, a few things you should know now that you're part of the family."

  He had trouble judging her reaction. "Please, sit," he said, motioning toward another chair opposite him.

  "Thank you, but I'd rather stand."

  "All right," he said. Was there something he was doing that made her annoyed? "The first thing you should know is that aboard my ship the most formal protocols go out the window." He didn't miss the flash of disapproval in her eyes. It made him want to smile. "I don't care about them, they're inefficient and boring. Here everyone is always open to speak their minds; that way we're all on the same page. And I don't hand out demerits. If someone does something small then I don't care, but if they do something big then they're tossed out the airlock."

  "What?" Her shock broke through her armor of unreadability.

  "That was a joke. But they would be tossed into the brig. And there they'd have to deal with Major Jenkins, the commander of the Special Forces unit aboard. And trust me, that's not a blessing." He chuckled but she didn't even crack a smile.

  "Is that everything, sir?"

  "No," said Calvin. "I want you to speak freely. You're unhappy, I can tell. Let it out. If you have some advice or criticism for me, well, I'm always up for hearing it."

  She was hesitant.

  "Come on."

  "Are you sure?" She asked as she folded her arms.

  "Let me have it."

  "Okay then..." she paused for an instant but when she spoke her lips wouldn’t stop. She ranted about how inappropriate it was for him to pay for Miles to be released from lockup, and how she had no confidence in an officer with that kind of bad judgment, who would gamble himself into such a deep hole. And how by not disciplining him, Calvin was validating Miles' actions. Setting a bad example for the whole crew. Breaking the cohesion of a good, trained, disciplined starship. And how waiting for Miles only increased Raidan's headstart.

  Calvin listened quietly, actually considering everything she said. And, he thought, it made sense. But he didn't agree with her conclusions. The important thing was that he knew how she felt, and that she'd learn what his positions were, and adapt.

  "...we're officers of the military, that's who we are. The least we can do is act that way!"

  She was cute while angry and Calvin gave way to a broad smile.

  "And wipe that stupid grin off your face, Lieutenant Commander." She snapped, then suddenly closed her mouth and stood at attention, realizing she'd crossed a line. But her anger didn't bother Calvin. In fact, he thought she'd finally reached the heart of the matter. It hurt her pride that she had to report to, and take orders from, someone a full rank below her and three years her junior. Especially when that person seemed to break all the rules and do everything he wasn't supposed to. He wondered if she knew he was only a half-citizen as well.

  But Calvin didn't feel threatened. Everything he had he'd earned, and he trusted himself even if she didn't. "Are you finished, Summers?"

  "Yes," she said calmly, letting out a sigh of relief. "Except for one more thing. You really need to call me Commander, not Summers. That's a very important protocol."

  Calvin resisted a chuckle and reclined in his chair.

  "Didn't that feel good?"

  "What?"

  "Letting it off your chest."

  "A little, I suppose. But it was a mistake."

  "But it felt good?"

  "A little."

  "Good. I don't need any officers walking around with pent up anger like ticking time-bombs," he spoke gently. "I want you to know you can speak to me freely at any time. In fact, I hope you do. It's important for me to know what my crew's feelings a
re." He paused to let that sink in.

  "Now, as for your concerns. I'm sorry that the transition from a disciplined navy attack cruiser to an Intel Wing stealth frigate is hard because of my command style. But, you'll have to adapt to it. While I may do things a little… differently, in this squadron I'm allowed that right as long as I get the job done." He was only half telling the truth; he too was subject to protocols and regulations but in his mind he'd convinced himself otherwise.

  "Yes, sir." She was quieter now, but he still saw subtle defiance in her eyes.

  "Now another protocol is to follow the orders of your commanding officer, and to do so absolutely. And I order you to call people by their names instead of their ranks. If you don't know their names, you will make it your duty to learn them at your earliest convenience."

  "What?" She was stunned.

  "So now you have conflicting orders. Follow the protocol to maintain ship formality or follow the protocol to obey your commanding officer. Which commandment you break is up to you."

  She looked irritated again but she hid it quickly. "Well, as you say, sir. Protocols aren't very important to you. That means I don't really have to follow your orders."

  Was there a sense of humor inside her after all? Calvin smirked. "That's better. Now if you want a short break to see to your quarters and arrangements that's fine. But I expect you back on the bridge in an hour."

  "That isn't necessary. I am prepared to do my full shift."

  "Oh, okay, good. Well then you're free to go."

  "Thank you, sir."

  She left and the door closed behind her.

  Calvin let out a small moan. What am I going to do with her? The last thing he needed was a protocol zealot, especially if she found out he wasn't entitled to nearly as many liberties as he took. And if she knew he had to make reports to Fleet Command she might send a few of her own and get him in trouble. For all he knew, she was here for that exact purpose, to keep him in line.

  "Blah..." he said, unable to get himself to pull the documents back out for study. Instead he turned on his desk and played a game of chess against the computer. And lost. As usual. "Cheater." He glared down at it.

  "Would you like to play again?" The computer asked. It startled him, since he thought it was muted.