“There’s no telling what we’ll find when we get there,” said Cassidy. She spun the ops chair so she could face the center of the bridge.
“You’re right,” said Summers. “So we’ll need to be ready for anything.”
“We’re just gonna find a bunch of rocks,” said Miles. “Big deal.”
In order to keep things on point, Summers had not invited Miles to the intelligence meeting she’d had earlier with Cassidy, Sarah, Andre, and—annoyingly—Alex, who Summers hadn’t thought of a compelling reason to exclude, since Calvin had taken the Rotham into his confidence. Miles, however, was still in the dark. And hadn’t the faintest idea why they were going to the Kynar Asteroid Field with such speed. At the very least he should have been concerned why the ship was leaving Imperial space and once more ducking into the DMZ, but Miles seemed apathetic. All he seemed to care about was that Summers had command, which he didn’t approve of, and that Calvin wasn’t on the ship.
Summers didn’t have time to have patience with Miles and his apparent man-crush however. She understood that Calvin was doing important work on Capital World, even if Miles couldn’t grasp that. And, secretly, deep inside her heart, she worried for Calvin. She knew how dangerous the situation was there, deep in the very heart of the conspiracy itself, and she also knew how rash and impulsive and careless Calvin could sometimes be.
Be all right, she thought, as if thinking the words would will them to come true. Stay safe.
“Why in hell are we going to Kynar anyway?” asked Miles.
“The remaining isotome weapons are there,” said Summers. “Or so our best intelligence indicates. We are going there to remove them from the galaxy.”
The information had come from Raidan so it was anyone’s guess as to whether or not it had even the remotest shred of truth to it. Apparently the Arcane Storm had returned to the deadspace zone where they’d found the Arcane Storm, and there the ship had positively ID’d a series of jump paths that ultimately coalesced in the Kynar Asteroid Field. Raidan had suggested to her that the Nighthawk follow up on that lead, because of its stealth technology. Summers agreed and had jumped immediately. A part of her suspected that Raidan had given her this information in order to maneuver her and the Nighthawk away from something else, something important. But another part of her—the part that thought she knew him—believed he was telling the truth. Truth or not, the isotome threat was too severe to ignore, so Summers had jumped the ship. Happy to be rid of Raidan and his devious face.
Now all she could do was wait. Wait and hope for the best. She tried not to think of Calvin. Making herself believe that he was safe. That he knew what he was doing. That his efforts would be successful. And then, finally, the Empire would be restored to its true self. Summers would turn herself in, accepting whatever punishments awaited her, but at least there would be peace and order once again. And everything would finally be in its proper place. There would be no more isotome weapons. And no more dark conspiracies. And no more deaths from betrayal and friendly fire. She shut out the haunting image of the Fifth Fleet incinerating itself from her mind. It tormented her, even now. She tried not to think of the people on those ships…
“You don’t look too good,” said Miles. “Which is weird for you. Are you sick or something?”
“Shut up,” snapped Summers, reacting to him absentmindedly. “Sarah, if at all possible, increase our jump depth.”
Chapter 34
“The Executor’s forces are at the door,” said the mercenary captain.
“They acted sooner than I’d anticipated,” said Zane. “But no matter. They will not get us in here.” His eyes drifted across the chamber to where Blackmoth stood, leaning against the wall. Silent and reserved, watching as Zane’s forces scrambled to secure the door and prepare for invasion.
He seemed detached. Perhaps praying to his god. Blackmoth was a difficult man to read, always had been. But Zane knew there was no match for him anywhere in the universe. Even now he stood, armed to the teeth, with more weapons on his person than even a soldier needed in a lifetime. Many of the instruments of death Zane didn’t even recognize, nor did he care to. So long as they were efficient at killing, and killed the right people, what difference did it make to him?
“We’re not safe here!” shouted Rita Donovan from the conference table, where she and the rest of the Phoenix Ring council were. Most were still in their seats but a few had risen, looking intensely panicked. Their eyes combed the chamber for some kind of escape, or some place to hide, but they found nothing. The chamber was the most secure place on Capital World. With only one way in, and one way out.
“We’re perfectly safe!” said Zane. “The Executor might be on the other side of that door,” he pointed to the hardened-metal access point with its many locks and layers of security, “but he can’t get us here. Not even if he has a hundred thousand men,” his steel eyes looked at the other top members of the Phoenix Ring. Trying to reassure them. “His time is running out. Ascension is happening. And when it does, the Executor’s authority will be evaporate like drops of water on scorching metal.”
“What if you’re wrong?” asked Rita, a screech of fear in her voice. “What if he—”
Zane cut her off. “I’m not wrong. Wait and see.” Again he looked at Blackmoth, and the galaxy’s most fearsome assassin met his gaze. So long as Blackmoth’s destiny was tied to his, Zane knew, there wasn’t a force in the universe that could harm him.
The sound of muffled gunfire could be heard, leaking into the chamber. Followed by the rumble of a small, tactical explosion. Zane knew what it meant. The Executor’s forces had breached the outer layer of the bunker. Soon they’d carve their way through his defenses and find their way here to the inner sanctum. But he was not afraid. He looked at Blackmoth and saw no fear in him. So Zane had no fear.
Ascension was nigh. Soon all of this would be over. And then the true Empire would begin.
***
“He has slaughtered our own people, citizens he is sworn to protect,” said Caerwyn, standing before the entire Assembly. Kalila watched him with suspicious eyes, awaiting her turn to speak.
“The King sent troops to Renora, against our recommendation, and against the will of the people,” Caerwyn continued. His face was bright red and his words forceful and clearly spoken. “Those men, under the banner of the King, slaughtered countless innocents. The King tried to force a kind of order that cannot be forced, raising the populace into a heightened state of rebellion. Displacing millions. And even now those citizens starve and die. I remind this honorably body that the King is also responsible for a vicious and brutal bombardment of the planet, the result of which was not the restoration of peace and prosperity to Renora. No, the result was the deaths of women, and children, the destruction of hospitals and homes, and the ultimately the declaration by the people of Renora to secede from our Empire and join the Rotham Republic.
“Never before has the Empire, or organized government for that matter, witnessed such gross incompetence, rampant mismanagement, and wretched leadership. Is this what we want for our citizens? Is this the story that we will take home to those we represent?” he asked, pausing for a moment. “I know that many of you were appointed by the King, or by Knights and Lords loyal to the King, and that many of you feel a particular loyalty to the Akira House. It is only natural, the Akiras have served this Empire tremendously ever since its very beginning. But let us not confuse loyalty to the Akira name with loyalty to the Empire. Hisato Akira is not the mighty Jinpachi Akira of old. This king we have today is not that great man, he is not the first king who led our colonies to unite into the grand Empire we have today. He is merely a descendent. And only entitled to the throne so long as we allow him.
“I ask you all now, for the sake of the people of Capital World, and all of the citizens of the Empire, to cast your vote today for new leadership. Our Empire is bleeding, Renora is lost to us, and now there is the ever-present threat of war looming over u
s. We must have a monarch who can steer us through these troublesome waters. And Hisato Akira has proven to us that he is not that man. He is incapable of being the leader we need in this dark hour. And now you and I, and every one of us here, has the opportunity to make the most meaningful difference.” Again he paused. “If we do not act now, today, to save our Empire, there will soon be no more Empire to save.”
He took his seat and the Assembly members discussed among themselves what he had said. The sounds of chatter and conversation filled the chamber. Kalila took a deep breath as she stared up at the balconies of people. So many Representatives from so many worlds. And yet they were all so easily duped, and led along by Caerwyn Martel like puppets on a string.
Representative Tate called the Assembly Floor to order and silence filled the chamber. “Princess Kalila Akira, you may now address the Assembly. You have three minutes to make a final statement before voting commences.”
Kalila took the floor and walked to the center, taking her microphone with her. She had hoped not to be given a time-limit, so she could ramble and filibuster for as long as it took—long enough for Calvin and his forces to come sweeping in, bringing the traitors before the Assembly for all to see. But she only had three minutes. So all she could do was state her case to the best of her ability, and pray that somehow she got through to some of them. Even though the issue was already drawn along coalition lines, and Martel and his faction had adequate support to force the issue. Kalila tried to be hopeful anyway.
“Honored Representatives and Members of the Assembly,” she said, looking up at the gathered masses. On their stacked balconies everyone seemed to be awake and alert. This was the most unique session of the Assembly that had ever happened. In all of a hundred years, the Assembly had never voted to challenge the authority of the King. Today was a new day, a black day.
“I stand before you today in my father’s place, as a member of the Royal Akira family,” she continued. “I have long been a part of this body and have served with you for years. Yet only weeks ago this body believed I was a traitor, and that I had attacked Renora. Only to be proven beyond a doubt that I am innocent. That I had been framed, made to appear as though I had been behind the tragic slaughter. I am here to tell you that my father has been similarly framed. And that if we hold him responsible for these actions, we will be punishing an innocent man. A man who has had nothing but love and compassion for each and every world in the Empire.”
Someone snorted. Kalila ignored him. “The rumors of bombings by the King’s forces and ruthless violence against the citizens of Renora are merely that, rumors. At this moment of crisis, let us not act rashly and hastily, to throw our Imperial government into an even higher level of chaos. We must rally behind our king, our shepherd and protector, and unite ourselves—every last one of us—and together we can solve our problems. But if we fight amongst ourselves, and turn our government upside down, all while our enemies are gathering strength both at home and abroad, we cannot hope to prevail. I urge and beg you, I plead with you all, to truly consider what is being proposed today. And to make the right decision, to support our monarch.”
With no more allowance of time to continue her argument, she returned to her seat without another word. The crowd of Representatives reacted to her statement with a mixture of support and dissonance. She could tell from the tone of the room that the issue was hotly contested. Unfortunately her influence here had reached an all-time low. And many of those loyal to her political faction had left it. Even some of the Representatives here who believed in the King, and believed him innocent of the bombardment of Renora, they were still most influenced by public opinion. And in the court of public opinion things seemed clear—
the people of the Empire were afraid, distrustful, and eager for a change. Unfortunately, thought Kalila as she regarded them, none of them truly understood what they were asking for. And the heavy price they would pay.
“Order. Order on the Assembly Floor,” said Representative Tate, smacking her gavel. The noise in the chamber quickly faded. “Having heard the final arguments we will now put the measure to a vote. On the matter of Assembly Resolution Five-Five-Oh-Three, a motion to execute the Sovereignty Clause of Article One of the Imperial Charter and call upon the Great Houses to decide the monarchy, all in favor so indicate.”
Kalila watched as the Assembly Representatives pressed buttons on the terminals next to them.
“And all opposed, so indicate,” said Representative Tate.
More movement. It was hard for Kalila to judge as she scanned over the chamber which side held the majority.
Representative Tate looked down at her own display and she, along with the other two members of the committee, examined the results. “With a vote of one-hundred and eighty nine to one-hundred and seventy nine, with ten abstentions, the Aye’s have it. The Sovereignty Clause is hereby invoked and the members representing the Great Houses will assemble to decide the fate of the monarchy.”
Kalila felt her heart sink, but she wasn’t surprised by the outcome. The Assembly had just voted to allow the clause to be invoked, but the Great Houses still had to vote on the issue of whether or not to pull the plug on the Akiran Monarchy. She tried to be hopeful, tried to think maybe she could sway a few of the others. But since the other Great Houses had always hungered for the chance to claim the throne for themselves, she didn’t think it likely they’d vote to support the Akiran claim.
It wasn’t over yet. She had a little time. If only Calvin would arrive and she could expose the conspiracy. Then she could motion for the Invocation of the Sovereignty Clause to be annulled. She touched the screen of her terminal and sent a message to him.
Hurry Up Calvin.
***
Calvin read the message from Kalila on his mobile just as his forces were preparing to blow the door to the inner sanctum. They’d taken the outer layer of the Phoenix Ring bunker, suffering one more casualty in the process, and now only one door stood between him and those responsible for corrupting the Empire.
“We have to speed this up,” he said. Kalila would not have told him to hurry up if the situation on the Assembly Floor wasn’t dire.
“Alpha is in position,” reported Alpha Team leader.
“The charges are placed,” said Bravo Team leader. “Bravo is ready.”
“Charlie, are you go?” asked Calvin.
“Roger. Charlie is in position. We’re ready.”
Calvin pointed his carbine at the door from a safe distance. Through his night-vision goggles he could somewhat make out several small charges that had been placed on various parts of the metal door. Designed to blow it from its track.
“You should keep your head down,” whispered Nikolai from his side. He too pointed his firearm in the direction of the door.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” said Calvin. There was no way to tell what they would encounter once they blew the door aside and stormed the inner sanctum. But one thing seemed certain, they would meet the fiercest resistance of all. They’d take losses. Calvin knew it, every soldier on every team knew it, but it would be worth it, he told himself. It had to. They’d capture Zane Martel and all of the others. Then race them back to the Assembly Floor where the conspiracy would be exposed and the Empire would be saved. Nearly finished, though Calvin. We’re nearly through. “Remember,” he said. “No civilian casualties.” They needed to take the Phoenix Ring Council alive so they could extract a confession from at least one of them.
“Understood, sir.”
“All teams are in position and ready,” said Rafael.
“Breach,” ordered Calvin. There was a flash and a crack as several small explosives popped, breaking the metal door free of its restraints. It crashed to the ground, surrounded by smoke.
“Fire in the hole!” said Alpha Team leader. He threw a flashbang into the inner sanctum. Once it went off, and the echo of a sharp ringing could be heard, Calvin’s men stormed through the smoke, weapons raised.
“Hands on your heads!” they called.
After several soldiers had gone through, Calvin sprinted for the entrance and went through himself. He felt his heart thundering, and images of past firefights flicked through his mind, but he narrowed his eyes and kept his focus. Realizing only as he moved through the smoky green haze that he should have heard gunfire by now, but the inner sanctum had met them with only silence.
“What the hell—” Alpha Team leader said.
Calvin stepped out of the smoke and into the inner sanctum. It was a reasonably large room with a conference table at the center. Corpses sat in the chairs. Men and women in professional attire. Some slumped back, other leaning over the table. Most looked as if they’d been taken by surprise. Eyes and heads had been shot, blood and bone matter were everywhere. Not a group suicide…they all looked like victims of a swift and brutal execution.
“No,” said Calvin, racing over. He took off his goggles, not believing what he could see. In the yellowy lights, the scene was even more sickening. He didn’t want to approach the gruesome sight but he was desperate to find one of them still alive. He began checking vitals. Two soldiers from Alpha Team did the same.
“They’re dead,” said Alpha Team leader. “They’re all dead.”
“One of them has to be alive!” said Calvin. He felt his heart pounding in his ears and as he scanned over the macabre sight, counting sixteen corpses—ten civilians who’d likely been members of the Phoenix Ring Council and six mercenaries who lay dead by the door, ostensibly shot in the back. If there had been a fight here, it had ended swiftly. And few if any of the victims had realized they were under attack until they were slaughtered.
“I’m sorry sir,” said Alpha Team leader as his men finished checking the vitals of the victims. “They’re all dead.”
“No, it can’t… how…” Calvin fumbled for words and felt himself weaken; he would have dropped his carbine had it not been strapped to him.
The Phoenix Crisis Page 36