"The ship answered our hails only once and the staticky garbled response was impossible to make out for sure. But to me it sounded like 'don't come after us, there's no one left,’ but I wasn't sure and I didn't speak up. The CO was a by the book kind of captain and demanded we respond, and we did. Once we were within ten-thousand kilometers we did a deep scan and found that all 37 life forms aboard were humanish... but there was something unusual about them. They had an elevated amount of certain hormones. The XO recognized what it meant and went into a ballistic panic. He ordered the ship to evacuate the region but the Captain overruled that command and told me to dock with the Starweaver. I'll never forget the way the William—the XO—looked at me. He begged me to withdraw the ship to a safe distance."
"So what'd you do?"
"I obeyed my captain. I was a green officer and knew what I was supposed to do, and I did it without hesitation. Will looked so betrayed. At that point he got desperate and ordered the defense officer to fire on the Starweaver. Which she didn't do, of course. The Captain had Will dismissed from the bridge and confined to quarters. As the marines dragged him away he screamed that we'd all die if we boarded that ship. Of course, no one believed him." As Calvin spoke he looked through the window of his memories with such clarity he saw the ghostly lights of the Trinity's bridge.
"We docked with the Starweaver and the Captain sent over medical teams and a small security detail to help bring everyone aboard without incident. We got word that their ship was smashed on the inside—like there'd been a fight, but no sign of an enemy boarding party. We found twenty-nine survivors and almost a hundred bodies before we pulled away—eight people had died since our original scan. The Captain had me set course for the nearest medical facility where we could drop off these refugees—it was twelve hours away. In the meantime, the survivors were put into our infirmary and our med staff was put on full activity. But we couldn’t get any information from our new passengers, they were in no shape to answer questions.
"For the first hour everything was fine, but then several systems started crashing. Doors wouldn't work. Lights flickered and died. And communication between decks became spotty and unreliable. A team was dispatched to the infirmary to make sure their systems had adequate power, but we lost contact with them and they never returned. A second group was sent and they vanished as well.
"At first we blamed it on the failing comms systems, but when no one returned to report, we got more than a little anxious. The captain sent half a platoon of soldiers to the infirmary where they came face-to-face with what was left of our medical staff and those we'd sent before, our friends and colleagues—I didn't see them, but I remember hearing the description over the radio. Bodies littered the floor, torn up and mutilated patternlessly. But the dead were the lucky ones. The living were in torturous agony as their bodies changed, transforming into vile murderous night creatures. And by the time we realized what we'd actually brought aboard, Strigoi... vampires, it was too late.
"The infection spread through the lower half of the ship like lightning and the captain sealed it off, forced to trap even normal humans in an effort to contain the threat. And those stuck below didn't have a chance. They screamed and screamed over the radio pleading for their lives and pounded against the doors until they succumbed to the contagion or died. After an hour we didn't hear them anymore. Just silence.
"At six hours out, the shield doors came unhinged and the creatures started pressing into the upper decks, their hunger and bloodlust barely abated. The captain ordered security checkpoints set up in every major corridor and he sealed off all the vital areas he could, like engineering and the bridge. Crews were ordered to hold their lines, hand to hand if necessary. But they had little chance. The fighting moved swiftly from deck to deck and when arms ran low we all realized we'd be dead soon.
Calvin stared into the wall, musing. "It's a strange thing, you know. To look at death face-to-face and know there's nothing you can do. Like a cold scythe curling around your neck, pulling you in. And do you know what my thoughts were?
Summers didn’t say anything.
“Selfish terror! I thought I was too young to die. And if I could save my skin I would, even if it meant leaving everyone else behind. I didn't care about duty or honor, I just wanted to live. But there was no chance for escape, and as our thoughts turned from fear of dying to the chance of becoming one of them... it was very tempting to use the last of our shots on ourselves. One man even did. I didn’t see him, he walked around the corner—then came the crack of his gun and the thud of his body, I …”
He paused for a minute, shaking his mind free from the images. “Anyway, what kept us going was the communiqué we received from an Intel Wing Cruiser with two companies of Special Forces soldiers. They told us help was on the way. We just had to keep it together a little bit longer.
"I was lucky I didn't see much of the action. But I could hear the screams echo in the shafts and down the corridors. And the eerie sound of fangs and claws scratching against bulkheads. The infection reached us just as we were making our emergency dock with the cruiser. The last strigoi who came at us..." Calvin choked. "I'm sure it was Will, or what was left of him. But the evil eyes glaring at us with prejudice weren't his. The real William was dead, and this husk that resembled him was a sick insult. My friend... with those sunken eyes, bloody tattered clothes, taut pale muscles, and dripping fangs was something else... and it was my job to shoot him... I was the only one with ammo left."
"But I hesitated. The others beat and clubbed him, and the captain took my gun and shot William over and over. But, before he died, he managed to bite the ops officer." Calvin’s eyes burned but he masked his emotions. "She was... a friend." Calvin shut his eyes, trying to block out the terrible image of dear Christine's face squeezed with agony as he watched her convulse and drop. And even worse than the crystal-perfect picture of her agony was the nagging certainty that it’d been his fault. He’d failed to act. And that had cost her… everything.
He cleared his throat. "The uh... Strigoi managed to bite the ops officer's wrist and she went unconscious. We tried to make a tourniquet around her wounded arm but we weren't doctors and we didn't do it right, or else we didn’t do it fast enough, either way the venom had spread too far by the time she could get proper treatment. Special Forces stormed the ship and took control, killing off every last Strigoi they could find and everyone turning into one. They cleared us one by one, checking us over thoroughly, before allowing us on board the other ship. My bitten friend was allowed aboard, because we believed an amputation could save her. That the tourniquet had trapped the venom. She was a fighter and didn't succumb to it, despite being unconscious. After we were evacuated they swept poison gas through the Trinity hoping to reclaim it, but new orders came down the line and they ended up destroying the ship. Shooting it until it was dust. By the time we got to the nearest medical facility there were only fifteen of us left from the Trinity, out of a crew of four hundred."
"And what became of your friend at Ops?"
"They hooked her up to all kinds of machines that kept the poison from overcoming her brain, but they could never manage to rid her systems of it or reverse her condition. Even with a complete blood transfusion. She spent weeks unconscious as our very best medicine tried to save her life against the most savage of toxins ever designed. Because strong pain medicines hindered the process she had to stay in horrible, horrible agony. Eventually, when it seemed the stalemate would have no end, they revived her to ask her what she wanted. She begged the doctors to end her life. I saw her face just before they did," Calvin recalled how gaunt and grey it'd turned. "She looked old, like the ordeal had aged her decades." His heart was crushed anew but again he would not show it to Summers. He’d loved Christine, and it was because of her, more than anything, that he hadn't seriously pursued any romantic relationship since. "Well... suffice it to say I'm not going to subject my crew to that."
When Commander Summers spoke, her t
one was respectful and genuine, but still duty-driven. "With respect, sir, that is a very moving story. And I'm sorry for your loss. But you're letting your past experiences affect your judgment. You're too emotionally involved here and you're blurring the lines between different types of remorii."
"There is no line!" He stood up angrily. "They're all sick perversions of nature that have no right to exist!"
"You're saying that one modified human is exactly the same as another and they're all guilty by association. I don't believe in that and neither should you. Besides, the fellow stranded out there is only one person."
"He's not a person."
"He can't help what he is. We have a duty to do and a chance to save a life here."
"What if saving him means condemning fifty others to die?"
"Think about this, Calvin, this lycan is out here in the middle of nowhere, and alone, he might have valuable information."
Calvin seriously doubted this one had any information worth even five seconds of his time, and he really wasn’t interested in her moral argument. He didn’t consider himself an amoral person, he’d simply decided long ago that remorii weren’t human beings and didn’t deserve to be treated like human beings—they didn’t even deserve to exist. But Summers was right about one thing, he was letting his emotions affect his judgment. And he realized if he didn’t deal with this lycan, someone else would. Someone who wouldn’t understand the danger. He should destroy the ship. But, if he did, Summers would report that to the Fleet. And he didn't want to think of the consequences of that.
"All right, Commander, we'll respond to that signal. But we'll do it my way, and that means absolutely no objections from you—is that clear?"
"Yes. As long as you aren't careless I have no objections."
"Oh trust me," his eyes narrowed, "Careless is the last thing I’m going to be." He stood up and led the way back onto the bridge. "Sarah, full about and set a course for the stranded vessel’s position, and keep monitoring that distress call. We're going to pick up the remorii bastard after all."
Miles gave Calvin a look of surprise and made a whipping motion with his hand but Calvin ignored him and took his seat at the command position.
"E.T.A. nine minutes," said Sarah from the helm.
"Good." Calvin tapped the direct line to Special Forces headquarters at the bottom of the ship. "Major Jenkins, we'll be docking with a small craft in a little under ten minutes. There's only one person aboard but he's a remorii so use every precaution. Incapacitate him first and get him into the lock up. We'll question him after."
"Affirmative," the Major's deep voice came over the small speaker. "Just say the word."
"Incapacitate him?" Summers looked bewildered. "Shouldn't we at least talk to him?"
"Oh yes, absolutely we should," said Calvin. "But only after he's behind a forcefield."
She opened her mouth to retort but Calvin was quicker. "No objections," he reminded her. She closed her mouth and looked frustrated.
Once they were in range, Sarah answered all stop and connected to the tiny vessel. "Clamps are in place."
"Okay, Major, execute breach."
"Affirmative, breach in progress." They waited and after what felt like the slowest fifty seconds ever, the Major reported. "We’ve got him and all hands are back aboard."
"Good work. Lock him up and I'll meet you in holding." Calvin jumped up. "Sarah, get us back on course to Aleator, best speed and, Summers, you have the deck."
Chapter 10
"He isn't talking," Major Jenkins said when Calvin arrived.
"You revived him already?" Calvin saw the lycan on the other side of the translucent forcefield, in his current form he looked perfectly human except for glowing red eyes.
"He came to on his own. Turns out a standard dose ain't enough to keep him down for more than a few minutes."
Calvin nodded to the Major and stepped up to the forcefield, hoping to get a good look at their new passenger through the blinking haze. He was a few inches taller than an average man with thick dark hair and smooth brown skin. Even through the blur, Calvin could see the lycan's twisted smile. "Hello, Captain."
"So what've we got, Major?" Calvin didn't take his eyes off the prisoner.
"No idea who he is, just a bogus name. Scanning his eyes is no good and his fingerprints are next to worthless. According to the computer his left hand is a sixty-five percent match with one person and the right is a thirty-percent match of a completely different person, both of whom are dead from natural causes."
"OK, Lycan, we'll start at the top. What's your name?"
"Now, now, you don't have to say it like that." The prisoner said, his voice had a rough, scratchy texture.
"Shut up and answer his question!" The Major inched closer and tapped the stunner holstered on his thigh.
"I'll take it from here, Major," Calvin motioned for the Major to step aside, which he did with a disgruntled look. Calvin had no jurisdiction over Special Forces, even on his own ship, he couldn't order the Major to stand down. He just had to hope the man would cooperate.
"OK, Lycan, if you do not appreciate being called Lycan, you have to give me an alternative. How about your real name?"
"John Johnson." He said.
"Right.... okay, John Johnson, maybe you can tell me what you were doing in a two-person skiff in the middle of nowhere."
"And maybe you can tell me what I did to warrant being put behind this forcefield."
"So that's the way it's going to be?" Calvin paused, not sure where to take this. He was much better with puzzles than interrogations. "We answered your distress call and probably saved you from a very slow, painful death by asphyxiation. But, if you don't tell me who you are and what you were doing, we could always put you back."
"Is that a threat?"
"Oh you picked up on that?"
"I see this is a classy establishment." The lycan rolled his fiery eyes.
"If I don't know who you are and what you're doing here I can't really help you."
"Then it'll be pretty interesting to see what you decide to do. But I do have one recommendation, Captain."
"And what is that?"
"There's one thing you should know about me, " his eyes narrowed. "I don't like being caged. Now why don't you drop this forcefield and give me quarters while we're still friends."
"I'll think about it," said Calvin, even though he had no intention of doing so. The lycan couldn't get through a forcefield unless someone else turned it off. "But a little cooperation from you would go a long way in the meantime, John Johnson."
"I doubt it. I know you've already made up your mind, Captain; regular humans are too easy to predict. I have nothing more to say here so, if you don't mind, I'd like some peace and quiet so I can sleep on this pathetic excuse for a bed you have in here."
Calvin shook his head in disbelief and left with the Major at his heels. When the door closed, Calvin said "I want him under constant camera surveillance with a minimum of two guards on duty. Let them know they're not even allowed to blink."
"What are we going to do about him in the long run?"
"Dump him off on Aleator. I'll let the port authority know exactly what he is, and they will take him off our hands. I'm not taking no for an answer. He's a nuisance to our investigation and we're not designed to keep prisoners long-term anyway. In half a day, he'll be out of our hands. After that I don't care. Just keep him under lock and key until then."
***
Two hours ticked away but it felt like twenty. Calvin was sure time was going backwards.
To distract himself, he dug into his mountain of intel. He finished a thorough read-through of the Harbinger's manifest but it yielded very few leads. Some details seemed peculiar, and he would check into them—for instance a few officers had served time for petty crimes like theft or vandalism—but almost every navy ship had supposedly-reformed crew members with criminal records. Calvin's information gave him nothing more to go on and he had no rea
son to suspect one former criminal over another, and nothing more than prejudice to suspect them more than any of the other crew. He returned to the communications specialist convinced that, if anyone were involved with Raidan, it had to be that person.
As his computer linked to the vast universal nets he entered several passcodes to connect to the more privileged databases.
"OK, Mister Gates, let's see what more we can learn about you." He waited for the search to complete but, before it did, the light on his desk started flashing. "What is it?" he asked, tapping the direct link to the bridge.
"Just letting you know Commander Presley has ordered a course correction, sir," Sarah's voice filled the room.
"What for?" He stood up and smoothed out his uniform.
"There's a major astronomical event occurring on our previous path."
"What kind of event, Sarah?"
"From here it seems like the huge gravitational collapse of the TR-301 star, no planets or bases around it but a black hole may be forming."
"If it's not one thing, it's another," Calvin rubbed his temples. "Let me guess it’s going to delay us somehow."
"The gravity pull is affecting our alteredspace stability so we’ve had the navcomputer map a new path, ETA... sixteen hours."
He sighed. That's just perfect... a dangerous prisoner and an even colder trail. "Thank you, Sarah, keep me informed if anything changes."
"Will do."
Calvin scratched his head and sat back down, trying not to stress about this news. A collapsing star was completely out of his control... but what were the odds? One in a billion? No, more like one over infinity that a major star would collapse directly between them and Aleator while they were in a hurry to get there.
Unless it was forced to collapse... Could someone destroy a star? And would they do it just to slow him down?
That was completely absurd and he knew it. But so was Raidan stealing the Harbinger, and that had happened. The more he thought about it, the more it bugged him that this star would choose to die at the most inconvenient time imaginable.
The Phoenix Conspiracy Page 9