The Phoenix Reckoning (The Phoenix Conspiracy Series Book 6)

by Richard Sanders

By this point, it looked like their vessel would strike the wall of energy at any moment. It was so vast and so chaotic, it seemed impossible to tell exactly where its boundary began. Calvin fidgeted restlessly and wiped the sweat from his clammy palms onto his uniform pants. He couldn’t tell if he was profoundly excited or stupefyingly terrified—probably some of both. Either way it was becoming harder to appreciate the raw, awesome majesty that was this galactic marvel, the Veil, as their ship drew ever nearer.

  “Just how big is this thing?” asked Calvin, hoping to get their minds—especially his own—off the fact that these might be their last few precious seconds of life.

  “The Veil encloses a volume of space that is just under twenty-thousand cubic parsecs.”

  “Twenty-thousand!” exclaimed Calvin. “That’s large enough to make a Dyson sphere look like…well, a speck!”

  “Indeed.” Rez’nac was so confident he almost sounded bored. What was a novel, incomprehensible, and terrifying experience for the rest of them, to him seemed like just more of the same.

  It was enough to make Calvin wonder what other marvels the Polarians had stumbled upon, or built, that would make most people in the galaxy drop their jaws, but to the Polarians were merely business as usual. Above all, he wondered if the Polarians had stumbled upon the Veil by accident—and somehow discovered the secret of how to pass safely through it—or if they had, even more incredibly, built the damned thing. Either way, it was enough to convince him that the masses of Polarians out there—a species that greatly outnumbered humans and Rotham—were not just the tribal, superstitious, backwards simpletons they were most often categorized as, but rather a deeply complex people with a rich culture, a gift for bountiful unique innovation, and access to some of the universe’s most arcane mysteries.

  Just as their ship was about to be swallowed up by the electric, radiant chaos that was the Veil, Rez’nac began to transmit a message over kataspace. He spoke the words—if they were words—into the headset and repeated the same sounds over and over. It did sound vaguely like he was speaking in Polarian, but if so, it was a strange dialect, one that Calvin had certainly never heard before.

  The entire display would have seemed ridiculous if not for the fact that his efforts appeared to be working. The Nighthawk passed into the Veil, a fact Calvin confirmed by glancing at the positional display, and they proceeded, deeper and deeper into the glowing, colorful, almost blinding electrical storm. The bolts and arcs of energy were closer than ever before; he could see them leaping, sparking, and exploding out the window, just beyond reach of the ship, but somehow, no matter how far they travelled into the Veil, the energy would only come so close and no closer. Always just beyond reach of their shield radius. Calvin knew the energy wasn’t striking the shield because the shield never lit up, which would have happened had it absorbed an impact from the Veil’s strange cosmic energy.

  Rez’nac continued speaking his sounds, in almost chant-like rhythm and the Nighthawk continued to sail through the energy field, completely unmolested. After a minute or two of this, Calvin couldn’t help himself and he started laughing, humored and amazed by the sheer incredulity of the entire experience.

  Finally able to relax, he soaked in the view out the window, which was one of indescribable awe and splendor. There were magnificent bursts of light and color, all of it seeming to jump about randomly in all directions; it was a colorscape of seemingly pure chaos, full of arcs and bows and jagged, frantic lightning.

  Other than Rez’nac and his chanting, the bridge was deathly silent, as all eyes were fixed on the spectacle, the mighty wonder which they traversed, going where perhaps no human had ever gone before—or very few, at that.

  Eventually, after only a few more minutes, the colors seemed to fade, the lightning bolts grew more disparate, and then, after one final, spectacular flash of light, there was nothing more to see but blackness and stars.

  “We have passed through the Veil,” said Rez’nac. “It is a good omen. It means the Essences approve of our quest. We are doing the right thing.”

  “How did you do it?” said Calvin, too curious not to ask. “And be straight with me.”

  “I know how he did it,” said Cassidy. “I was studying the behavior of the energy fields as we passed through. Rez’nac, using the kataspace transmitter and very specific sounds, was able to transmit an exact pattern that had the harmonic resonance effect of repelling the energy fields from around the source of the harmonic resonance—in this case, the Nighthawk. Quite clever, actually.”

  “Indeed, you are clever,” said Rez’nac, “but you are also wrong, human female.”

  Cassidy looked on the cusp of arguing, but upon seeing Calvin subtly shake his head, must have thought better of it.

  “You see,” continued Rez’nac, “the Veil was placed here by the Essences to protect those of the light from the corruption of the Dark Ones, and so only a child born in the light, who is taught the phrases of the ancient language, only he may pass safely into the Veil.”

  “And is it the same phrases going out of the Veil?” asked Calvin.

  Rez’nac looked at him with momentary confusion. Then he seemed to understand. “I forget that you are ignorant to the ways of the Essences, and the meanings of the phrases I just spoke to get us in. There is no phrase needed to exit this sacred orb. The Veil only protects the inside from the out, it does not exist to protect the outside from the in.”

  That all sounded rather cryptic to Calvin. “So, to clarify,” he said, “anybody can leave the Forbidden Space and the energy will not affect them, but anyone who tries to enter it, they must know the right phrases and broadcast them the right way, using the right frequencies and so forth, to pass safely.”

  “That is correct,” said Rez’nac.

  “Tell us, what do the phrases mean?” said Calvin.

  “Yes, I was wondering that too,” added Summers.

  Rez’nac bowed. “Although you are my master here, Calvin, and my life is forfeit, except for whatever purpose it may serve to you, there are some things I cannot reveal to you. I hope you accept my humble apology.”

  Calvin was disappointed, but he understood. “Of course, think nothing of it. I’m just glad to have been able to witness this Veil. I’ve seen a lot of strange things out in this galaxy, but that one might well have been the most beautiful.”

  “The Essences, were our eyes able to look upon them, would be so stunning in their glory that it would kill us instantly to gaze upon them. Likewise, their gifts to us, such as the Veil, are of such splendorous and transcendent beauty that—even though they are mere shadows next to the glory of the Essences themselves—they are spectacular to our imperfect, mortal eyes, and strike awe in our hearts and souls to behold them. As a matter of fact, many a ship has been destroyed by the Veil—lured into it by its tremendous beauty. Sometimes the act is done deliberately, as a more beautiful way to die is difficult to find.”

  “Like moths into a flame,” remarked Rain, she seemed moved by Rez’nac’s words, as if he’d just recited poetry. No doubt she found his whole culture and religion to be utterly fascinating. Calvin tried not to think about Rain, so he looked away. Her rejection of him still stung too much and he didn’t enjoy reliving it in his mind.

  “Well, now we are officially in the most forbidden part of Polarian Forbidden Space,” said Calvin, pressing his hands together. “Which means it’s time we make way for the Forbidden World itself. Rez’nac, course and heading, if you would, please?”

  “It is a dangerous journey, but I can guide you there. I know the way, but I must warn you, many things may have changed since last I took this path.”

  “Duly noted,” said Calvin. “I accept the consequences and the risks. Jay, please return to your station. Rez’nac, course and heading as soon as you’re ready.”

  ***

  Fleet Admiral Isolda Ravinder stood on the bridge of the stalwart ISS Hyperion, overlooking the Imperial battle fleet that had gathered at Centuria
System. Now that the civil war had ended, Imperial fleets—although battered—now stood together, side by side, as brothers once more…ready and willing to defend the Empire that was so preciously dear. An institution that represented all the hope and security for humanity, and again it was under threat. Only this time, rather from turmoil within, it was from some menace on the outside.

  The queen had ordered all available ships—including those in the merchant marine—to make course for Centuria System, where, with strength in numbers, the Empire’s military hopes would win the day, or collapse into ruin against the might of their dark adversary.

  Ravinder herself did not understand this new enemy. She had read the stories about the Dread Fleets of the past, how they were religiously summoned by the Polarian High Prelain to fulfill some kind of crusade—which usually involved purging or conquering the peaceful worlds of other species—but Ravinder had believed such stories to be mythic and not reality. Or, if they had been historical, to have been greatly exaggerated. Now, though, as she stood, overseeing command of half the assembled forces, she had the opportunity to discover for herself what kind of threat this enemy was.

  Altogether, the Empire had managed to assemble two massive fleets.

  The first fleet was the primary defense force, under Ravinder’s direct command. It consisted of almost two hundred ships-of-the-line, of various ratings: everything from destroyers to dreadnoughts, but the bulk of the force was composed of armored frigates. With them were another hundred and fifty ships that had belonged to the merchant marine. Some of these civilian ships had weapons and armor, and others had needed to be hastily outfitted—as best was possible in the narrow window of time with what few resources remained—and now they stood, in scattered formation, distributed amongst the many squadrons of Imperial military starships, waiting. Watching vigilantly as the hours and days slipped by, knowing their enemy was due to arrive at any time—and while they waited, Ravinder herself was unsure whether she was happy for the delay, because it gave them extra time to prepare for the upcoming battle, or if she would rather the enemy simply arrive and get things over with, for better or worse.

  The second fleet was commanded by Sir Arkwright from the lofty position of the Imperial flagship ISS Victory—which had been the personal starship of King Hisato Akira, and was the most powerful ship the Empire had ever built. Were there a classification greater than alpha-class, the Victory would have it.

  Arkwright and the Victory, along with his force of two-hundred and fifty warships, each of which belonged to the Imperial military, held position away from Centuria System, using a nearby nebula to hide the force. The plan was for Ravinder and her fleet, including volunteers, to hold a tight defensive perimeter of Centuria System and engage the attackers as soon as they arrived. Then, at the ideal moment, Arkwright—who held the overall command—would jump into the system, bringing with him his hardened battle fleet, and lay waste to the enemy’s unsuspecting flank, hopefully forcing a rout. That was the plan anyway.

  The ships belonging the Arkwright’s squadrons were the real thing. Rather than a swarm of destroyers and frigates peppered with the occasional battleship and bolstered by volunteers and civilians, Arkwright’s squadrons were almost completely composed of battleships and dreadnoughts. Their hulls were armored, their weapons were of military grade, and, perhaps most importantly, their crews were disciplined and battle-tested.

  The ships were not in perfect condition, many of them having sustained wounds during the civil war, but each had been patched up as best as could be done in time for the anticipated action at Centuria System…a place where the lives of some eight billion people hung in the balance. Ravinder, for one, was determined to achieve a victory here—despite the odds, which intelligence claimed were long—because she felt deep in her heart that she owed it to the people of the Empire, who had suffered enough. That, combined with the tragedy that had been the slaughter of Layheri Alpha—where the enemy had scourged the planet, meeting no Imperial opposition, and the result of which had been the brutal massacre of hundreds of millions of lives. Scouts reported back, after surveying the carnage once the Dread Fleet had moved on, that:

  “It is our estimation that any rescue mission to recover survivors and refugees would be a waste of resources. Not only is every living thing on the planet dead or dying, the planet has been so severely scourged that it will not be inhabitable again for millions, if not billions, of years. Assuming re-habitation is ever even a possibility. Terraforming efforts, likewise, would prove arduous, expensive, and unlikely to succeed.”

  Such has been the devastation at Layheri Alpha. Reading the report had chilled Ravinder to the bone and had given her a thirst for revenge that she intended to satiate here, once their enemy arrived. Centuria V would not fall so easily, the enemy would quickly discover. Oh no, thought Ravinder, we shall fight for every scrap of land, every life, and every inch of this system!

  Although a tremendous amount of the remaining Imperial military forces had been successfully gathered here for this action, many Imperial squadrons had been too far distant to arrive in time. And, although, as their enemy made sluggish progress toward the system that allowed the arrival of more friendly warships by the hour, Ravinder knew that, at best, they would have some fifty-percent of the Empire’s fighting force available for the action once it started. Hopefully, that would prove enough. There hadn’t been any witnesses to the scourging of Layheri Alpha, and so it was unclear how many starships they were going to be up against. Likewise, scans from the Imperial listening posts that monitored the Polarian border could only indicate that there was a significant mass of starships moving in close formation—the number of them was impossible to determine; however, the density seemed to imply a horde.

  Let them come in all their numbers, thought Ravinder, from her seat in the command position where she waited, let them come, wave after wave, and wave after wave we shall toss them back into the sea.

  Even without the presence of Sir Arkwright, the Victory, and his greater force, the ships available to Ravinder, which had taken up defensive positions around the planet Centuria V—at her instructions—must have been a comforting sight to every telescope on the surface of the planet, where some eight billion people awaited the outcome of the battle, knowing their very lives depended on it. Considering her numbers, and those of Sir Arkwright, and the plan that had been made, it was hard for Ravinder to imagine any outcome other than victory.

  We humans are nothing if not tenacious, she thought. Above all, we are survivors, our ancestors have stayed alive for billions of years and we, coming from that same stubborn stock, are not about to allow ourselves to be wiped out by the hordes of the Polarian fanatics that threaten us.

  The brutality that the enemy had directed at Layheri Alpha had shocked and frightened many—in truth it had shocked Ravinder too, but she refused to allow it to frighten her. Rather, she would use it as motivation to fight harder and resist with greater force. What they were dealing with were brutes, and she had learned long ago that, when dealing with brutes, to expect brutality. Therefore, the enemy deserved nothing less than the swift and merciless sword of justice to lay waste to them; there is to be no quarter offered, nor any prisoners taken, the enemy is to be destroyed or driven off. To show them mercy would be a mistake, for they are coming with one objective alone—to annihilate. And responding to them with any less force would be a grave mistake, and so she had commanded all of her forces to resist the enemy with extreme prejudice. Those were her standing orders—and supported by Sir Arkwright—and, as far as she knew, even the un-battletested civilian commanders understood what they were supposed to do, and what was at stake.

  On the fifth day of maintaining defensive formation, during the fourteenth hour, the first sign of the enemy finally appeared. It came in the form of multiple alteredspace signatures, imminently inbound.

  “Sir,” reported her chief of operations. “I am detecting a large mass disturbing alteredspace st
ability just beyond range of the system,” she said.

  “Multiple ships are reporting confirmation of the same thing,” added the communications chief.

  “Here they come,” said Ravinder, half to herself—to steel her nerves—and half to her crew, to ready them.

  “General order to all ships,” she said, “clear for action. Go to condition one alert immediately and sound General Quarters.”

  “Relaying order,” said her communications chief.

  “Sounding General Quarters,” reported her defense chief. The klaxon could be heard a moment later, just as the emergency lights came on. “Shields up, weapons armed.”

  “Fleet reports that they have gone to condition one,” said the communications chief.

  “Send a message to Sir Arkwright; warn him that the enemy is fast approaching.”

  “Aye, aye, Admiral,” said the communications chief.

  Ravinder turned to face one of the junior communications officers. “You there,” she said. “Broadcast me to all ships—I wish to address the fleet.”

  “Yes, sir!” the man snapped to attention and then began transmitting the broadcast; he gave her a thumbs up so she knew she was being transmitted.

  “To all heroes and defenders of the Empire, whether you be military officers or brave civilian crews who have followed your hearts and kept true to your patriotic duty, why ever you stand here and from wherever you’ve come, you are here now, and that makes you the very soul of what it means to be human. We are survivors! Adversity only makes us stronger! We, each of us, have chosen to stand here, ready to defend this planet, because we are made of stronger stuff than our enemy. Our courage is boundless, our resolve unbreakable. We are the mighty barrier that separates eight billion innocent lives from the hateful murderers that would destroy them. We are the swords and shields that separate life from death and in that, my brothers and sisters, we should take great pride.

  I want you all to know that today, we are brothers and sisters in arms. Let no division that has existed between us, whether recent or distant, whether deep or shallow, be a barrier that makes us forget that, above all, we are united together by our common humanity. We are human beings, just like the citizens of this world which we seek to defend, and, as human beings, we will stand together, showing the enemy our courage, our resolve, and the fact that we, as humans, are born survivors. And we will not go gently into the night! We will stand together, against all enemies, against any opposition they would send our way, and, like a barrier against a storm, we shall not break! For it is they who will break against us! Let them come in their numbers and in their hordes and let them taste of our resolve! Where they are iron, we are steel! Let them crack against the might of our resolve. Let us have our righteous vengeance against them for the slaughter they committed against us, each and every one of us, by the atrocity they committed at Layheri Alpha! Fight fiercely my brothers and sisters. Fight nobly. And never surrender!” She signaled for the transmission to end.