She could tell by the confused looks on their faces that they did not follow her logic, so she decided to walk them through it carefully. “Captain Adiger,” she said, choosing one of them arbitrarily. “What is the one thing I have asked for in all of my formal addresses to the Empire?”
He gave this some thought before replying. Eventually saying, “Your Majesty has asked for the people to unite together under your banner.”
“And now they have done that,” said Kalila. “Or at least, made the best effort they know how to do to fulfill that requirement. They have united under my banner by recognizing my claim to my father’s throne. For us to be skeptical of them, to not take them at their word, or to not accept their offer, would be for us to create a situation whereby the Empire cannot be reunited. The conflict between each side must end, as must the distrust between opposing worlds, for us to have any chance to stand against the enemies which we know to be coming; there is only one course of action for us. We must accept their offer, and I intend to do just that, only I shall do so on my terms. Gentlemen, at long last, it is finally time for us to return home.”
“As you command, Your Majesty,” Sir Gregory bowed. “It is true what you say, we must be united if we are to prepare for the threats that loom beyond our borders.”
Not only had the Rotham Republic proven their willingness to attack the Empire—although they had been handed a particularly devastating defeat at Thetican System—now Imperial listening posts along The Rim were beginning to pick up distress signals coming from several Polarian colonies. Of course their cries were in vain, neither the Empire nor the Rotham Republic had the means, nor the motive, to come to the Polarians’ rescue, but the chilling cries for help did act as a kind of warning. An omen for what was coming, which, according to her top analysts, if Polarian colonies were under attack by a seemingly unstoppable Polarian fleet, there was only one logical conclusion. The Dread Fleet had awoken, and was on the move. Although little was known about the structure of such a fleet, the minimal historical records combined with many decades of widespread rumors led to the popularly held image of a swarm of death-black ships scourging planets mercilessly, one after another, hell-bent on destroying any society which the Polarians’ top religious leaders deemed too impure to exist.
Kalila could hardly believe that such a fleet existed, let alone that it was on the move, already wreaking chaos and destruction inside Polarian space, but she also could not ignore the warning signs. And if something was out there, powerful enough to topple the more secular Polarian colonies without resistance, then it likely would make its way into Rotham and Imperial space eventually. And, when it did, only a unified Empire could hope to stand against such a threat.
“Then it is decided,” said Kalila. “I shall instruct the Royal Assembly to send a message of their own, to legitimize the Imperial Assembly once more and to accept their decision to reign as monarch over their worlds.”
At long last it is time, she thought. Time for my hour to begin. Time to take my father’s throne and save the Empire that I have, through my efforts, guided only by the very best of intentions, personally endangered. Now it is time for me to redeem myself and my family and save humanity.
***
Calvin disconnected what might be his last ever call from Grady Rosco with a smile. The Nighthawk was ready. Finally ready. True, the repairs had been rushed, and the Roscos lacked the equipment and expertise to do a perfect job. But, under the oversight of the Nighthawk’s engineering staff, and with no expenses spared, the shipwrights and equipment of Aleator One had managed to fix the hull breach on deck four—not just patch it. They had even managed to bolster the Nighthawk’s armor where it was weak, damaged, or completely missing. The metals they used were not the perfect alloys that the Nighthawk’s schematics called for; they were not quite so strong as what the starship was used to. However, they certainly were better than nothing, and most importantly, none of the work—including the new armor plating—would compromise the ship’s stealth system. Or so the Nighthawk’s engineers had assured Calvin, and reassured him when he expressed extra concern.
“We’re going into Polarian Forbidden Space,” he had reminded them. “You had better be damned sure the stealth system is able to work optimally.”
“Which is why we elected for the materials that we did,” Andre Cowen had said reassuringly. “We shall be as invisible as we ever were.”
Calvin had told Andre that he was going to hold him to it, and he had meant that. Still, the chief engineer’s endorsement had gone a long way toward soothing Calvin’s jittery nerves, and now that the ship had been fixed, re-armored, re-supplied, loaded with weapons, and had taken on twenty-two Rosco soldiers, each of whom had brought their own weapons and gear, but were being immediately trained by Captain Nimoux in the use of proper jackets, helmets, and firearms; now Calvin was eager to return to the stars.
He wanted to see where their journey would take them next. Polarian Forbidden Space had always been one destination out of reach; it inspired the curiosity of every boy and girl everywhere, yet no one could say what was out there. Even the telescopes and other long-range sensing equipment that had tried to penetrate it had been rebuffed by Polarian technology meant to keep their secrets protected. And now Calvin was going to take his ship, his crew, virtually everyone he cared about, and plunge headfirst into that unknown abyss. It excited every cell in his body, but also filled him with a sickening sense of dread—since no one had ever attempted such a mission before and survived.
His office door opened and Summers entered.
“Yes, Summers, what is it?” he asked, standing up himself.
“I’m sorry, is this a bad time?” she asked.
“No, it’s a fine time,” said Calvin. “I was just on my way to the bridge.”
As he walked closer to her, their eyes locked for a moment, hers were a color of green that truly were uniquely beautiful. He blinked and she glanced away, her face slightly red.
“Was there something you wanted to tell me?” he asked, once he was standing next to her, by the door.
“I just came to report that all of our officers, including our new soldiers, have come aboard the ship. Repairs are complete and all requested supplies have been received and are currently being distributed to their needed locations by the quartermaster.”
“I had heard as much from Grady Rosco,” said Calvin. “But I appreciate the report.” He squeezed past her, feeling his heart go momentarily aflutter at their close proximity as he did so, and then he left the office, entering the bridge. Summers followed.
“I have confirmed with every division chief that we are ready to disembark,” said Summers. Since she was the XO, it was technically her duty to oversee and manage the ship’s personnel, a duty that she had apparently begun to take seriously once more, now that she was no longer the Acting CO. Calvin appreciated her attention to duty, so long as she didn’t challenge his sometimes unorthodox commands—like allowing twenty-two Rosco soldiers to join the Nighthawk’s security detail. Other than her initial objection, and occasional plea that he be careful, she had not stood in his way. Calvin took this as a good sign that the two of them had finally struck a feasible working relationship.
“Thank you for doing that,” said Calvin, as he took his seat at the command position. Summers followed him, but remained standing. “Was there something else?” he asked, looking up at her. Somehow he was unable to ignore the portrait-like beauty that was her flawlessly-formed face and cascade of golden hair.
What am I thinking, he berated himself mentally. I like Rain. I’m with Rain now. At least, I think I am. I cannot be having thoughts or feelings for Summers. Besides, gross! He hadn’t forgotten how she’d ripped his heart out and betrayed him when the two of them had shared what he had believed to be a romantic moment together. Forget it, he told himself. That’s ancient history. Still, it helped him to remember that, if for no other reason than to deflect Summers’s otherwise overpower
ing physical charms.
“No, nothing else,” said Summers, after a pause. She seemed like she had wanted to say more, or ask him something, and then—at the last moment—changed her mind. “I’ll be below seeing to the crew, with your leave, of course,” she said.
Calvin nodded and gestured toward the elevator. “By all means, Commander.”
“Thank you, sir.” She left, leaving Calvin alone on the bridge with his primary white shift officers. Something about seeing Sarah at the helm, Shen at Ops, and Miles at the defense post gave him a warm feeling, as if all was right with the universe again.
“I know white shift is almost over,” he said, anticipating the arrival of the next shift’s officers. “But before we turn the controls over to the less experienced, let’s say we use our last few minutes to get the ship properly underway.”
“Sounds good to me, Cal,” said Sarah.
“Status report, all stations,” he said.
“We’re clear to disengage from the station at will,” said Sarah. “Flight systems and alteredspace drive are looking sharp.”
“All systems are operating within expected parameters,” said Shen. “I say we are good to go.”
“My guns have been re-filled and I have a whole pile of new missiles,” said Miles. “Shields, stealth, everything looks ready to roll.”
“And I just received word that everybody who is coming has boarded the ship,” said Calvin. “So I see no advantage in further delay. We helped the Roscos defeat the Khans, we likely destroyed some Strigoi in two transports, and we’ve been fixed, resupplied, and have new soldiers to help protect the ship…I say we’re ready. Sarah, release us from the station and accelerate.”
“Releasing us from the station and yawing one-eighty degrees. Current velocity twenty MCs per second and accelerating,” said Sarah.
“Move us clear of the station and standby to engage the alteredspace drive.”
“Aye, aye, sir, what heading?”
“New heading is the Charred Worlds,” said Calvin.
“That takes us into Polarian space and near the Rotham border,” said Sarah.
“Then we’d better be ready,” said Calvin. “Miles, engage the stealth system.”
“Engaging stealth.”
The ship moved swiftly away from the station, which Calvin watched on the 3D display; after a minute or two Sarah announced they had cleared enough distance and were ready to jump.
“Punch it,” said Calvin.
“Aye, aye, Cal,” said Sarah. A moment later the stars vanished and all that could be seen out the window was total blackness. “ETA to Charred Worlds, twelve hours.”
“Good job, crew,” said Calvin, looking at his friends and best officers with pride. If he was going to temp fate and venture into Polarian Forbidden Space, he was glad to be doing so with such skilled officers. And, although the fear nagged at him that he might only be getting himself and his friends killed by engaging in such a venture, he resisted dwelling on that possibility.
“When red shift arrives, you are relieved,” said Calvin. “In the meantime, I’ll be below. Sarah, you have the deck until red shift relieves you.”
“Aye, aye.”
With that Calvin left the bridge, punching the elevator for deck three. Calvin’s quarters were on deck five, but rather than go and get some much needed rest, he decided on other plans, and before long, found himself entering the infirmary. Unlike when he’d awoken here not too long ago, after being plucked from the alien vessel, there wasn’t a heavy presence of medical personnel. A skeleton shift of medics was treating two of the Rosco soldiers for minor injuries; in all, Calvin saw Dr. Andrews, another medic he didn’t recognize, and, to his delight, Dr. Rain Poynter.
“How are you, men?” asked Calvin, approaching the Roscos—and, somewhat advertently, Rain, who was attending to them.
“Sir, none the worse for wear,” reported one of them.
“I’m fine now, sir, thank you for asking,” replied the other. The two Roscos were both young, about Calvin’s same age, and both were of a height and sported similar brown hair, brown eyes, and facial complexions. They were not so similar to be mistaken for twins, but the resemblance was unmistakable. And Calvin realized then that when he’d asked Grady for some of the best Rosco soldiers, Grady had literally sent him soldiers that were members of the Rosco family. Sure, they were probably distant cousins, far removed from any meaningful inheritance, but they had the lofty privilege—and sense of style, based on their well-tailored suits—to be actual Rosco family members. Only then did Calvin fully appreciate the sacrifice Grady had made to repay Calvin.
“Glad to hear you’re both doing well,” said Calvin. He shook their hands, happy to see that neither was being treated for a hand injury. “What are you in here for?” They told him. One had a burn on his left calf from a grazed bullet and the other had cut himself on the forehead somehow. Both injuries had been properly treated and bandaged, by the look of it.
“Is that the extent of our injuries?” asked Calvin, wondering if any of his new soldier platoon had boarded the Nighthawk in need of recuperation and medicine.
“So far, sir,” said the slightly taller of the two Roscos.
“Well, I’m glad to hear it, and to see that the two of you are in ship shape,” said Calvin. “I’m the CO, my name is—”
“Calvin Cross,” the taller one interrupted. He then apologized for the interruption and explained, “Grady told us about you. How you’re a friend of the family and that we are to do whatever you tell us to do.”
“Well, whatever Captain Nimoux tells you to do,” said Calvin, wanting to correct here and now what could later prove to be an important distinction.
“As you say, sir,” replied the shorter one. The taller one nodded.
“Now, it seems to me that the two of you have me at a disadvantage,” said Calvin, smiling.
“I’m Eddie Rosco,” said the taller one, shaking Calvin’s hand once more.
“And I’m Gabriel Rosco,” said the other.
Calvin nodded. “I’m pleased to meet you both. And eager to meet the other twenty. Are all of them Rosco family members, or just some of you?”
“Every last one of us,” said Eddie Rosco. “To a man.”
“That was very generous of Grady,” said Calvin. His eyes, without helping it, kept darting between the men and Rain during this whole conversation, and finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. “Dr. Poynter, if I could have a word,” he said, nodding toward her adjoining apartment.
“Of course,” said Rain, looking surprised, yet happy to see him.
“In private,” said Calvin, again nodding toward her apartment.
“Dr. Andrews,” said Rain, “please see to these men and discharge them.”
“Yes, Dr. Poynter,” the medic snapped to attention and approached the Roscos.
Good, thought Calvin, not really sure what his plan was; he just knew he wanted to spend some time with Rain alone.
“I didn’t expect to see you so soon,” said Rain, once they had both entered her apartment and the door slid closed. As Calvin glanced around at the familiar rooms, small as they were, he could scarcely believe that these quarters had once belonged to Monte, may he rest in peace…
“And I didn’t expect to be here so soon,” said Calvin, trying to keep himself from beaming as their eyes met. He took her by the hands and felt her warm fingers as his curled around hers. She didn’t resist; in fact, she seemed to welcome the touch. “And yet, here I am.”
“Something tells me you didn’t come down here just to check on our injured soldiers,” said Rain with a teasing smile.
“And what makes you think that?” asked Calvin, as he began reeling her in until their bodies were touching and their faces mere centimeters away.
“Is this how you treat all the heads of medicine who serve aboard your starship?” asked Rain, trying not to giggle.
“Only the pretty ones,” said Calvin.
“O
h, so there have been others?”
“Hundreds,” said Calvin. “But none so beautiful as you.”
She gave him a look that suggested she was about to teasingly reprimand him, when he couldn’t take it any longer and moved his head in for a kiss. This took her by surprise, and at first, she was stiff, but as his arms curled around her body, pulling her close, she kissed him back—warm and wet.
Slowly building, their affection became increasingly intense…until clothes started to be removed, starting with his shirt. He was about to go for hers, “fair’s fair,” he said, when the chime rang.
“Oh, just ignore it,” said Calvin, still feeling like a hunter. He went for her, but she stopped him as the chime rang again.
Of all the times for this to happen, thought Calvin, feeling a wave of frustration.
Rain, for her part, looked alarmed. A bit like a teenager who was afraid of being caught by her overprotective parents. She tossed Calvin his shirt and immediately began to correct her appearance. Fortunately for her, she hadn’t been wearing any makeup to smear, and her hair was usually a wild tangle—so that would draw no suspicion.
Realizing that it was not going to happen, Calvin reluctantly put his shirt back on, and at Rain’s insistence, ran a hand through his hair until it returned to the stylishly-messy look he typically sported.
Rain opened the door, “Sorry, I didn’t hear the chime,” she lied. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”
“Not too long,” came the voice of Shen. And, to Calvin’s surprise, in stepped Shen. “I was hoping I could have a word with—” Shen stopped abruptly when he saw Calvin.
Unsure what else to do Calvin waved. “Hello.”
“I can see that I have come at a bad time,” said Shen. “I can come back…”
Good idea, thought Calvin, hoping Shen would go away.
The Phoenix Reckoning (The Phoenix Conspiracy Series Book 6) Page 13