“I’m sorry, sir,” said Celeste Ortega-Gasset. She was a pretty little thing, even when broadcast over the computer screen and its poor lighting there was something sensual about her. Her fair hair and semi-dark skin—an unusual combination but one Zane found pleasing—worked well with her dark, almost black eyes. If she weren’t so far beneath his station, and such a useful tool besides, she was one Zane would actually consider taking as a mistress. At least until he grew bored of her.
“You will now explain why this call is so important,” he said. He kept his tone even, free of harshness of emotion, but those who’d worked with Zane for any amount of time knew that he always meant business, and they’d be wise not to waste his time.
“It’s about the Remus Incident,” she said.
Zane felt his frustration with her evaporate and his mind quicken. There were a lot of question marks surrounding the strange set of circumstances that had come into play during the failed Remus Nine operation. Some things had been discovered—such as the fact that the Phoenix Ring operative had vanished without a trace and no one had made contact with him since—but most of the mystery remained, such as why their operative had stopped contacting them. Zane hoped that the operative had died, or even that he’d been taken captive by Calvin Cross, anything was better than the alternative. Unfortunately it was that alternative he believed most likely, and it had grave implications…“Go on.”
“The replicant, X’li Prime, may have defected to the Rahajiim.”
Zane felt his heart stop for a moment. That was what he and the others most feared. “What? Explain.”
“There have been whispers that the Enclave figured out that X’li disappeared, and that X’li Prime, posing as X’li on Remus Nine, was in fact not the true X’li. If true, they may have gotten to X’li Prime before he got into position on Remus Nine. Or else X’li Prime had always intended to betray us and he sought out the Enclave himself. One informer—while intoxicated—claimed the Enclave cut a deal with X’li Prime. And that the Enclave decided to double-back on their deal with us and instead make good on their promises to the Rahajiim.”
It had been a bold move of Zane and the Phoenix Ring to try to recruit the Enclave out from under the Rahajiim. The Phoenix Ring worked with the Rahajiim to promote a common interest, but their good feelings for each other ended there. In the end, both organizations, while smiling at each other’s faces, knew that when the dust cleared, either the humans or the Rotham would be standing at the top of everything. Eventually the two groups would be at odds, and that meant it was critical to make preparations for that inevitable conflict now. They were friends with their arms around each other and knives pressed against each other’s backs. And the clock was ticking. And at the end of a very delicious tether was the Enclave—and, much more importantly, the most deadly weapons in the galaxy.
The isotome weapons were the key, and Zane had urged the others to sweeten the pot for the Enclave so the Phoenix Ring would be the ones holding the isotome when all was said and done. Even though, according to their arrangement with the Rahajiim, the Phoenix Ring was only supposed to be involved in helping to develop the weapons. The weapons themselves belonged to the Enclave, who—according to the agreement—belonged to the Rahajiim. But that deal had unacceptable implications. So Zane and the Phoenix Ring had double-crossed the Rahajiim. Zane had then used the Phoenix Ring’s private relationship with the Enclave to arrange for a key member of the Enclave to be replaced, so that when the time came there were certain assurances... They had double-crossed the Enclave and now, it seemed, the Enclave had double-crossed them right back.
“If those rumors are true, then the isotome weapons on the surface of Remus Nine are now in the possession of the Rahajiim.”
Zane knew that was bad, but the worst part wasn’t that the Rahajiim had the weapons they were always supposed to have according to the agreed upon plans, it was that the Rahajiim knew the Phoenix Ring had double-crossed them. That meant they had X’li Prime, the Enclave, half the weapons, and another reason to accelerate whatever plans they had to act against the Phoenix Ring. “At least we have the rest of the stockpile,” said Zane.
Celeste didn’t say anything.
“Right?” pressed Zane. If it turned out they’d lost the other half of the isotome weapons he was sure he’d have a heart attack.
“I don’t know, we may,” said Celeste. “I haven’t gotten that confirmed yet.”
“You mean they’re just sitting there for anyone to grab? What if the Rahajiim fleet followed the Arcane Storm and found them?”
“That shouldn’t be possible, based on the information I have from Edwards Prime… not even the Desert Eagle was able to pick up the Arcane Storm’s jump signature. And the Rahajiim fleet arrived at Remus long after the Desert Eagle did. So the trail would be even colder.”
“Drop everything and make sure those weapons are safely where they’re supposed to be.” Zane narrowed his eyes. If there was anything that would protect the Phoenix Ring from the Rahajiim when the time came, it would be the deterrence of the isotome weapons. They each had a gun to the others’ head. If the Phoenix Ring didn’t have one, on the other hand, and the Rahajiim did, that did not bode well. “Well, what are you waiting for? Go.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And don’t tell any of the others this news.” Zane did not want to be wasting his time trying to reassure some of the more flighty members of the Phoenix Ring.
“Too late, sir,” said Celeste. And her face disappeared. The call was over.
“Damn,” Zane slapped an angry hand flat on the console.
He left the private room in his estate and headed out to his limousine. His personal escort followed and he ordered his driver to take him to the other side of the capital city. During the drive he received a call on his mobile from a secure line—a call he’d been expecting, and dreading, since speaking with Celeste.
“We have to get out of here,” said the frantic voice of Rita Donovan. “We have to get the hell off this rock and go, while we still can.”
“And go where?” he asked. Rita had heard the upsetting news that their replicant X’li Prime might have defected to the Rahajiim. And she was already jumping to all sorts of panicked conclusions.
“Anywhere that isn’t here,” she said. “They’ll be coming for us. You mark my words. They’ll be coming!”
“First of all, there’s nowhere in the galaxy safer than Capital World. And secondly, no they won’t. You and the others stay calm. The situation is under control.”
“And just how is it under control? Do you have a hundred warships ready to defend us? Are you prepared to give battle to the Rahajiim?”
Zane nearly rolled his eyes. Rita was right to be fearful of the long reach of the Rahajiim, and the group’s merciless brutality, but she hadn’t the slightest sense of what an attack by the Rahajiim would look like. At least one against the Phoenix Ring. “Everything is under control,” Zane repeated.
“This will be our heads. I just know it!”
“Stay here, stay calm, and stay down,” he said slowly and clearly. “I’ll contact you when I know more.” He hung up without giving Rita another chance to speak. The last thing he wanted was for her to lead a panic that resulted in the Phoenix Ring’s members fleeing the system in all different directions, pulling out their money and their support. Especially when everything they had ever aspired for was literally within their reach for the first time.
The Rahajiim were incredibly powerful, and there was no doubt they would be a serious threat to the Phoenix Ring eventually, but the much more immediate danger—the one that threatened to ruin all of their plans before they could come to fruition, was the Organization. And Zane would prefer the Phoenix Ring keep its resources and attention fixed on them for the time being.
When his car arrived in the discrete underground parking garage, he and his escort entered the building through one of the underground “back doors.” Zane left his bodyguard
and proceeded through several security checkpoints. This was one of many structures quietly operating under the flag of Intel Wing. Technically Zane did not have clearance to be here—no civilian did—but he and the Phoenix Ring had made considerable inroads inside Intel Wing, and now the premiere intelligence gathering network in the galaxy was more or less at his disposal. He still had to be careful, and keep his head down at times, but those agents he’d managed to recruit—or replace—were slowly taking over everything.
“Hello again, Mister Martel,” said one of the guards. He was in full combat fatigues and very heavily armed. He was the gate keeper to the inner sanctum of the facility. Not only did he look ready for some serious urban warfare—carrying weapons and explosives enough to fend off a small army—he stood over a button that would summon an army of marines to swoop down on the facility and lock everything down within minutes.
“Hello,” said Zane.
“Here to see Director Edwards again?” the guard asked.
“That’s correct.” Of course the guard, like most people here, had no idea that the person who sat in Director Edwards chair now, and who wore his same face, was in fact Edwards Prime. And that the real Director hadn’t been seen for… quite a while.
The guard buzzed him through and Zane continued his journey, which wound into the inner sanctum of the facility. He made it to the Director’s office where again he was buzzed in.
So much security and all of it useless, he thought as he remembered how easily they’d managed to abduct the real Director Edwards from his personal home.
“Good to see you again,” Edwards Prime said once Zane was in his office and the door was closed. Zane knew that the room had been stripped of all recording equipment and made soundproof so he was at liberty to speak openly.
“I take it you are enjoying your new lofty position in the Imperial Military?” asked Zane. Mostly to remind the replicant whom he owed everything to and where his loyalties should lie—after hearing that X’li Prime might have defected from the Phoenix Ring, Zane wanted to make sure Edwards Prime wasn’t of a similar mind.
“I am ever at your service, my master,” Edwards Prime bowed. “How may I serve you?”
“Firstly I need you to identify more sympathizers of the Organization here on Capital World—even people who are just suspects will do—Blackmoth is running out of targets and I want to make a statement to the Organization by cutting them off from Capital World completely.”
“We have not yet confirmed that anyone else is working for the Organization, other than the names I already gave you. But we have a few suspects under surveillance. I can produce a list of them for you if you like—though it’s unlikely most of them are connected to the Organization in actuality.”
“Doesn’t matter,” said Zane. “We take them all out. If even one belonged to the Organization, it will help me send the message I want to send.”
“And if not?”
“Collateral damage.”
“Understood. I’ll have that list sent to you within the hour.”
“Good. Now on to the second thing,” said Zane, thinking about his most recent conversation with Rita Donovan. “Tell me what is going on with the Rahajiim. Are they still in Imperial space? What are they up to?” If the Rahajiim had plans of their own—which Zane didn’t doubt—they were imperative to discover before the Rahajiim acted on them. Certainly their ultimate interests were not in line with the Phoenix Ring’s, or humanity’s.
“The Rahajiim fleet was positively identified en route to Remus System, according to reports submitted by Captain Nimoux.”
Zane nodded. “And did they remain?”
“Unknown, Nimoux withdrew his squadron from the system before it could be cornered or captured by the Rahajiim fleet. He reports that the ISS Phoenix did not make the rendezvous and is therefore missing.”
“Damn that Commander Datar,” said Zane. When Anand Datar had been given control of the ISS Phoenix by the Fleet, the Phoenix Ring hadn’t yet been ready with a replicant to replace him. Which meant they’d have to manipulate Datar through more conventional means until the time was right to replace him. Zane had thought that if the young commander could be made emotionally compromised, and that if he blamed his former friend Calvin along with Raidan’s Organization for his newfound emotional turmoil, he might be molded into an unknowing but useful tool. And might be used to destroy the Nighthawk, thus depriving the Organization of one of its most valuable assets. Unfortunately, when the moment had come, and Datar had indeed fired on the Nighthawk, Nimoux and the Desert Eagle had prevented the Nighthawk’s destruction. Since then the Phoenix had been pulled from the squadron and now, according to reports, Datar and the Phoenix had disappeared entirely.
“No one has seen the Phoenix and no one seems to know where it has gone,” continued Edwards Prime. Telling Zane what he already knew.
“No matter,” Zane said. It was a shame that Datar had not completed the task, but at least his absence and his recklessness still served a minor purpose. He was a chaotic element that would help bring about the instability the Phoenix Ring was working so hard to achieve. And, if the Phoenix did manage to hunt down the Nighthawk, there was always the chance that Anand Datar and the Phoenix would eliminate the ship and its intrusive commander once and for all. “Just tell me that Nimoux and the squadron we gave him are still in fast pursuit of the Nighthawk.”
“He isn’t. He and his ships have changed position to prepare for a Rotham invasion that he believes to be imminent. He mistook the Rahajiim fleet for the Rotham navy. He believes we are at war.”
“Tell him to continue his original mission,” said Zane.
“I have, and I’ve sent the order to him through multiple channels. Intel Wing and the Fleet.”
“And he will not comply? That doesn’t sound like him.”
“I am awaiting his most recent report. I will let you know.”
“Be sure that you do.”
“There is one other concern I have about Nimoux,” said Edwards Prime. “Not only did he allow the Nighthawk to escape—and thereby enable Calvin Cross and the Organization to keep frustrating many of our efforts—Nimoux has been doing some digging of his own. He sent a probe to the Xenobe Nebular Region and discovered that all the isotome had been stripped away. He has since reported this to the Fleet and Intel Wing, though I’ve intercepted all of his reports so far.”
“He knows about the isotome weapons?” asked Zane with a jolt of concern. Nimoux had considerable status and influence for someone in his position, and he wasn’t an operative Zane believed the Phoenix Ring could successfully recruit. If he knew too much and was able to successfully blow the whistle… that would create a crisis for the Phoenix Ring.
On the other hand, Nimoux was one of the most useful tools Zane had access to. He was the best operative in the Empire and one that Zane could be sure had not been recruited by the Organization or the Rahajiim. So long as Nimoux’s orders came through proper channels—and Zane controlled those channels—Nimoux was as obedient as a well-trained dog. Or so Zane had thought. Nimoux should not have allowed the Nighthawk to escape, he should not be investigating isotome, and he should not have abandoned his pursuit of the Nighthawk to prepare for a war that—if all went well—wasn’t going to happen.
“Resources have been mobilized and I’m prepared to deal with Nimoux, if that is your wish, sir,” said Edwards Prime.
Zane thought about it for a moment. He couldn’t risk Nimoux finding out any more than he had—and he certainly couldn’t risk the legendary captain bringing his information before the Assembly. At least not before the Hour of Ascension had come. On the other hand, the Phoenix Ring needed useful operatives in the field working for them, whether knowingly or not, and there was no one more skilled and capable than Nimoux anywhere. Zane would be sad to lose him.
“Sir?”
“I’ll make up my mind on the matter soon and let you know. Until you hear from me, do not move against Nimo
ux. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
***
The time came for the Arahn-Fi. Normally it would be witnessed by dozens of Polarians—enough to form a complete ring around the combatants, large enough to give them space but tight enough to keep either from escaping. Here aboard the Arcane Storm, though, there were only a few Polarians—most of their group had died on Remus Nine. Joining the Essences with full honor and glory. Which meant that there was no ring around Rez’nac as he faced his son. Only three other Polarians stood by to witness the Arahn-Fi. But it was no matter; Rez’nac knew that he would never dishonor himself by fleeing the combat. And neither would Grimka. Their beliefs were far too sacred.
“As your master, I am giving you one final chance to abandon this madness and submit to me,” said Rez’nac. He looked at his son who, like him, was dressed with the ceremonial breastplate and helm, and carried the artifacts of his Essence, including a dagger.
“I refuse,” said Grimka.
“I urge you to let the proper order be established once more. Fall into line and receive no shame, only honor. All of this, every whit of your petulant defiance, will be forgiven.” Even as Rez’nac spoke the words he knew he could not allow Grimka’s murder of the human soldier to go unpunished, but he hoped to allow Grimka the chance to recant before death, perhaps letting him go to the Essences after all, instead of the darkness.
“There is no order here. In this house, under your watch, we have gone astray. It is for the Essences, and their honor, and the sacred duty of everyone here, that I must call forth the Arahn-Fi.”
Rez’nac felt disheartened by Grimka’s answer, but was not surprised. Truly it was a sad moment in any Polarian’s life when he had to slay his own son to keep his honor. But, like he’d told Calvin Cross, the truth was what it was, and it had no sympathy. And respected no person.
“Are you prepared to be judged by the Essences, father?” asked Grimka.
The Phoenix Crisis Page 9