He liked being the acting XO. It gave him a sense of authority and importance that he knew he’d always deserved, but he’d happily go back to being just the defense officer—still the most important job on the ship—if it meant getting Calvin back. He’d been lonely these last few days and it was starting to feel like the band had broken up. But at least Sarah was back. Miles had welcomed her in his traditional way, by lambasting her with a tactical argument and then teasing her about her pansy-ass away mission on the Arcane Storm while the real warriors had stayed with the Nighthawk. She’d deflected his teasing with her own banter and even cracked a tiny smile at him, and that was when he knew she was going to be okay.
Miles meandered his way through the ship before eventually arriving at the infirmary. He wasn’t sick and he didn’t need anything, but Calvin had asked him to do something and, while Miles so far hadn’t had the guts, he decided to stop putting it off. If there was anyone in the galaxy he would keep his word to, no matter what, it was Calvin. Which meant he had no choice.
He stepped inside and immediately caught sight of Shen looking faint and… possibly even dead. He was strapped down tight on one of the medical beds with a soldier-in-arms standing attentively next to him. Miles slowly approached and stared down at his friend. Memories poured through his mind, and it seemed like only yesterday Miles had been coaching Shen on how to get with the ladies.
“Hang in there, little buddy,” he whispered. There was a burning feeling behind his eyes and it forced him to blink. It wasn’t a tear though—Miles was sure of that—just… an irritation.
“He’s a fighter, this one,” came a creamy-silk voice from behind him. Miles turned to see the chief physician. She was tall and pale, and had the deepest, reddest hair he’d ever seen. It was all in tangles, unkempt and untamable—just how he liked it—and the woman’s eyes were the prettiest, pales shade of blue he’d ever seen. He’d met her before, briefly, but only now did he realize just how beautiful she was. When he saw them, and noticed how candid they were, he glanced away immediately. Feeling his heart quicken.
“I—” he tried to talk but his words caught in his throat.
Rain stepped near him and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Her fingers were thin and long, and he wanted nothing more than to take them in his hand and feel their warmth. “It’s all right,” she said in a voice that was warm and soothing. “Don’t worry. He isn’t in any pain.”
Miles glanced down at Shen and saw the look of peace on his face and he knew that Rain spoke truly. It was almost as if the ops officer had passed into the great beyond already, and that what they carried with them—strapped to this medical bed—was merely a wax tribute. A statue of a great man who’d been by their side.
Miles felt something wet in his left eye and he quickly lifted a finger to wipe it away. “Damn allergies,” he said.
Rain gave him a small smile, then walked away and began checking several of the monitors attached to Shen. She wrote notes on her clipboard as she did.
“The important thing is that we don’t give up on him,” said Rain. He watched her. Unable to stop himself from tracing her long feminine figure with his eyes. It was hard to get a picture of her physique through her baggy medical scrubs. But there was enough there to fill Miles with a warm rush of excitement. Now this was a true woman, he thought. Lots of passion and personality, not to mention a kind of hardiness that made him think of the women back home. Strength and not just beauty. Summers was still better looking, but Rain made him melt in ways Summers did not. Miles stared at her. Rain was filled with heart. He could tell. And there was no substitute in the universe for a woman who was all heart.
“I know I certainly haven’t given up on him,” she said, now looking at him. Miles’ looked away from her.
“Me neither,” he said, suddenly remembering why he was there. “Tell me…” he struggled to find the words. “How… how is he?” Miles thought of what Calvin had told him. How he’d asked Miles to check up on Shen and make sure the man wasn’t suffering in vain. Calvin had said that if Shen was suffering—and there was no hope of saving him—it would be kinder to give him a gentle sendoff into the unknown. Miles had promised to look into it. But had put it off, dreading that he would find things were exactly as Calvin feared. And, as tough as Miles knew he was, he doubted very sincerely that he could be the one to end Shen’s suffering.
“Well…” said Rain, taking a moment to collect her thoughts. “We had a scary minute not too long ago, but as you can see he got through it. The good news is that the virus has not progressed since we got him stabilized. It’s still frustrating our efforts to eliminate it but… I’d say it’s only a matter of time.”
“Really and truly?” Miles asked, suddenly beaming. He hadn’t let himself believe that Shen could be cured and now the doctor had practically told him so.
“No one knows exactly what will happen,” said Rain, suddenly sounding a bit more cautious. “But I think the best thing we can do now is to have hope. There is no scientific reason for this and the evidence is purely anecdotal, but I have noticed that in cases where the patient and his loved ones keep their hopes high there is a higher rate of recovery.”
“Okay, great,” said Miles. He patted Shen on the leg. “You hear that buddy? You’re going to be okay!”
He spent another few minutes in the infirmary. Mostly trying to chat with the beautiful red-headed enchantress that ran the place. He left in good spirits and made for his quarters, deciding to reward himself with a good stiff drink and a nap.
***
Rain hadn’t told the defense officer the complete truth. She didn’t fancy herself a liar, but when she’d seen the look on the man’s big childish face—and the sweet tears in his eyes—she hadn’t the heart to tell him how grim Shen’s condition truly was.
Rain still hadn’t given up on him. That was certainly the last thing she would ever do. If she wouldn’t give up on herself—even though she knew she was dying—how could she possibly give up on anyone else? Whether a person had a hundred more years to live or mere seconds, they were still entitled to life, hope, and happiness for as long as they could possibly cling to those things. And even here, where the ghastly picture of death was slowly creeping over the unconscious ops officer’s face, he was still clutching to life. His body hadn’t given up, and neither would Rain.
I will save you, she thought, perhaps trying to reassure herself more than him. I will.
For every puzzle there was a solution, just like for every question there existed an answer—somewhere—she had to believe that. And as she puzzled over the strange biological processes going on in Shen’s body, as his immune system fought the contagion while other whole systems seemed to be surrendering to it, Rain could think of nothing in medical science that she’d ever heard of that was like it. In a way it was a marvelous and curious thing, probably the most fascinating phenomenon she’d ever witnessed. And yet she would fight it with everything she had. With everything she could possibly think of. Because, if there was a such thing as objective evil, this disease certainly qualified. The toxin, and what it was doing to this poor man, was an unforgivable wrong. And Rain was not about to stop fighting.
Unfortunately the clock was against her, she knew. And while Shen seemed relatively stable for now, she knew his condition was deteriorating and it wouldn’t be long before things took a permanent turn for the worse. Which meant she had to come up with another treatment fast. At her most optimistic, she guessed Shen had mere days—at best a week—before fatal, irreversible damage was done.
***
“This was an attack, sanctioned by the King, on our own sovereign soil against subjects of the crown!” Caerwyn’s voice boomed. He stood on the Assembly Floor and felt sweat drip down his face as he squinted against the bright lights. Princess Kalila stood opposite him.
“I assure you, Lord Representative, that the attack on Renora is a tragedy and was not sanctioned by my father or His Majesty’s Im
perial forces,” said Kalila. The feeling in the Assembly Floor was tense and there wasn’t a vacant seat to be found. Every member of the Assembly was there, and all of them knew that the citizens of the Empire demanded an explanation—and a response—for the recent bombing of Renora. Heads would roll, everyone knew it. And everyone was anxious to make sure his or her head wasn’t one of the ones that did.
“A fleet of ships from orbit rained down a torrent of military-grade bombardment rounds onto the civilian populace—destroying hospitals, schools, and homes—and you claim this was done without the knowledge and permission of our military? Who else could have done it? I ask you. If not the King, then who? I’ll tell you who,” said Caerwyn, clearing his throat. “No one.” He paused. “No one but the King’s military could have waged war like this. But understand this isn’t war, this is savage butchery. And the people of the Empire demand justice!”
“I remind the honorable Representative, and all the noble Lords and Ladies of the Assembly, that there is no convincing proof that this attack was an action by our military,” said Kalila. “Our best intelligence indicates that it was a terrorist attack. Perhaps an action by a foreign state.”
“Don’t blame the Republic for the blood on your hands,” said Caerwyn, cutting in abruptly.
“I didn’t specifically blame anybody,” said Kalila.
“Because no one else is guilty,” said Caerwyn.
“Mister Martel makes an extraordinary claim, but extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence,” said Kalila.
“There is evidence,” said Caerwyn. “And more evidence is mounting all the time. I don’t raise these allegations lightly. I weep for my Empire, and I am the King’s loyal servant. But higher even than the King is the sanctity of this Empire and the sovereignty and dignity of its people. As a member of the Assembly I must fight for them, and for their safety, and so it is with the heaviest of hearts that I expose the government for the abusive regime that it is, it has misused our military and violated the peace, the honor, the safety, and the dignity of our noble citizens. I regret having to make these accusations, but I have a duty not just to the citizens of our great Empire but to the truth.”
“Please, by all means, present your evidence,” said Kalila. Her words were calm and well composed; she shared her father’s gift for seeming to have command of any situation no matter how dire, but this was one battle she would not win. Caerwyn was certain of it.
“The fleet that entered orbit and began bombing the planet—war criminals who would slaughter civilians—did so unopposed. If it was not a military operation, why was there no military presence there to stop them?” He wanted the question to linger on his fellow Representatives’ minds but he did not want an answer stated, so he continued speaking. “The attacking ships were unopposed. The weapons they fired were of military grade—only our military could possess such weapons. And witnesses on the ground say that the ships flew under the King’s own banner.”
Caerwyn finished and then looked at his opponent. Unable to read from Kalila’s neutral expression what she was thinking.
“With respect, Representative Martel,” said Kalila slowly, after a few seconds. “The evidence you present is anecdotal. The attacking ships moved in unopposed because we had no warning of the attack. Why there was no military presence protecting the planet is a question to be put to the Lord Admirals. That decision was not made by my father or indeed anyone from my House. The weapons might have been supplied by a foreign military in an effort to undermine the strength of our Empire—a threat that should be at the forefront of our concerns. And the sighting that the ships flew the King’s lights and broadcasted under the King’s frequencies might have been done by anyone. Anyone who would have wanted the King to be blamed for the attack would have motive to act under our banner.”
“My Lady Princess,” said Caerwyn, fighting a smile, “you are grasping at straws. You ask us to accept these weak explanations, rumors of conspiracies for which there is no proof, whilst our people suffer and bleed and die because of mismanagement by our highest executive authority? Every hour of every day, new accounts are whispered across the Network of brutality on Renora by the King’s soldiers.”
“Rumors only,” said Kalila.
“Rumors perhaps, but not lies. There is no question that the King’s decision to fill the streets of Renora with troops—against our official advice, I would add—has been a mistake that has cost the people of the Empire in terms of its most valuable treasure, the lives of its citizens. And now the people demand action, they demand change, and so should we as their representatives.”
“What are you saying, Lord Martel?”
“I am calling a motion. It is high time for the Assembly to execute the Sovereignty Clause of Article One of the Imperial Charter.”
Surprised and eager voices filled the Assembly Floor, causing Representative Tate—who was presiding over the session—to smack her gavel and call for order.
“You are calling for the throne to be recalled back to the people and a new monarch chosen?” asked Kalila.
“I am,” declared Caerwyn, knowing this bold challenge to Akiran authority would be carried by the news across the Empire far and wide.
“Is there anyone who will second the motion?” asked Representative Tate.
“I will,” said Representative Conroy. Caerwyn squinted at the second row balcony and saw Lord Conroy standing. Caerwyn had expected him to be the one to support the challenge to the Akiras, no doubt he believed his House had a fair shot at claiming the throne. He was wrong of course, but so long as he served Caerwyn’s interests, Caerwyn would welcome Conroy’s misplaced support.
“Representative Akira, your response?” asked Representative Tate.
Kalila called for a recess, just like Caerwyn would have done in her position. She would meet with her faction of support and arrange for Caerwyn’s motion to be blocked before it could come to a vote. He knew that Kalila’s effort would succeed—for now—she had just enough votes supporting her to block him. Loyalty to the Akira House went deep, after all they’d always controlled the monarchy. But as the situation across the Empire became more chaotic, and more news of bloodshed and mismanagement spread far and wide—and the citizens of the Empire demanded answers—Kalila’s support would erode. And the Empire would demand a change in leadership.
The Conroys and Sabels no doubt had their own ambitions, their own dreams of sitting on the throne. But there was an answer to that too… once push came to shove. And in the ashes, once the dust settled, Caerwyn knew he would be the one wearing the crown. Ready to lead the Empire into its next era of glory. All he needed now was patience.
Chapter 26
Calvin sat in the Arbor Café and waited. He took a corner table, so no one could surprise him from behind, and sat away from the window. There were only a few patrons here: an old woman, two old men, a mother with children, and a young disheveled man who sat nursing a black coffee. None of them struck Calvin as his informant, but he kept a watch on them all the same. While pretending to stare down at the display screen on his table and read the news.
“Would you like anything, sir?” asked one of the baristas as she approached him with a notepad and pen.
“Sure,” he said, knowing that if he sat there and didn’t order anything he would draw unwanted attention. “I’ll take a coffee with milk and sugar.”
The barista made a note and left. She returned a moment later with his drink and he thanked her.
“If there is anything else you need, please let me know,” she smiled at him.
He nodded and she left. When she was gone he made a show of sipping his coffee but he did not actually drink. He didn’t trust it. And he wasn’t much of a coffee drinker. He set the mug down and checked his watch, discovering that his mysterious informant was now officially late—by one minute. He would wait five minutes, he decided. If no one came by then Calvin would leave. No reason to sit here exposed. Especially if this was
some kind of setup.
“Tell me you’ve got something for me,” he whispered. His concealed earpiece had an excellent microphone so he barely had to make any sound.
“Still nothing, sir,” said one of his observers. His people were keeping watch on the streets, giving him the heads-up of any suspicious activity that might be heading his way. In addition he had forces ready to swoop down on the Café and come to his aid, should the Khans or some other would-be assassin make a play. Calvin did not want a repeat of the motorcade incident.
He scanned over the top stories while he waited and found that new details had been released concerning the latest attack on Renora.
The planet, which was already in a major state of emergency and chaos, had been bombed from orbit. The newest buzz throughout the Network was that the ships that’d participated in the attack had flown the colors of the King. Calvin knew the King would never bomb his own people, but what mattered more at this point wasn’t so much what the facts were but rather what the citizens of the Empire believed the facts to be. And these rumors certainly didn’t bode well for the King, or for Kalila, or for Calvin for that matter—now that he was tied to the Akira family.
He was sure this attack had been a false flag operation, probably done by the Phoenix Ring, to further weaken the Akiran throne. He tried to take some small comfort in knowing that, once he’d done his job and tracked down the conspiracy’s leaders and exposed what they were doing, that this would all come to an end. But, as he imagined the death and chaos, the displaced families, the orphaned children, and the general slaughter that was going on… he wondered if this was partially his fault. Had he been more efficient, had he tracked down the conspiracy leaders sooner, perhaps he could have prevented this…
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