The Phoenix Crisis

by Richard L. Sanders

  “Looks like gunshot wounds,” said Bravo Team leader, examining one of the dead soldiers. “Judging by the entry and exit wounds I’d say five point five six. This one can’t have been dead for more than a few minutes.”

  “Then the killer is still here,” said Calvin. He looked around. There seemed to be nowhere in the inner sanctum for a person to hide.

  “Unless it was a murder suicide,” said Rafael who’d finally stepped into the room. He looked at the gruesome sight, all the blood everywhere, with a kind of morbid fascination.

  “Charlie, fan out,” said Calvin. “Find this killer.”

  “Aye sir. Though I don’t see how anyone could have gotten past us. We’ve had this whole grid locked down.”

  “Try anyway,” snapped Calvin. He delicately moved the arm of one of the slain Phoenix Ring members and tried to I.D. who the woman was. The face was unrecognizably destroyed. Calvin felt like gagging but resisted the urge. “There’s got to be something here… is there anything we can use? Anything?” He had to take something back to Kalila. The whole Empire depended on him.

  “There is a lot of intelligence to be gathered from this scene,” said Rafael. “But nothing that is immediately forthcoming that we could take before the Assembly. News of this slaughter would probably only implicate the King. No doubt Kalila’s enemies in the Assembly will try to twist this into a story about how the King’s soldiers raided private property without just cause and then proceeded to murder the occupants. There is no compelling and obvious proof of conspiracy here. Just proof that some of the wealthiest and most influential people in the Empire were meeting together.”

  Calvin knew he was right. And it all sank in. They’d failed. He’d failed. The king would lose his throne and the Empire would collapse. “How…” he stared down at the messy bodies. “Why…?” Who would have done this, he wondered. Who could have possibly had motive and means to eliminate the Phoenix Ring, and just before Calvin could get his hands on them. Not Raidan’s Organization… they were too poorly outfitted on Capital World and too far away…

  “Well, well, look what we have here,” said Rafael, lifting up one of the corpse’s heads. This one had been shot repeatedly in the chest but his head had been left intact, allowing his face to be recognized. “If it isn’t my old friend Zane Martel… Interesting how the worm has turned…”

  Calvin looked at the slain billionaire and felt afraid. Zane had been a bad person, Calvin was sure, and Zane had been behind much of the dark actions of the Phoenix Ring, but he’d also been one of the galaxy’s most powerful and influential billionaires. Yet here he was, slaughtered in his own house. Shot in the chest repeatedly. Murdered by a friend.

  “This is darker and deeper than any of us realized,” whispered Calvin. Zane’s blank, lifeless eyes stared back at him. If only those brown irises could tell him what they’d last seen...

  Chapter 35

  “Mister Conroy?” asked Representative Tate.

  “Aye.”

  “Mister Conroy and the Conroy House vote Aye,” said Representative Tate. “Mister Zhang?”

  “Aye.”

  “Mister Zhang and the Zhang House vote Aye. Lady Florence?”

  “Nay.”

  “Lady Florence and the Florence House vote Nay.”

  Lady Florence gave Kalila a melancholy look and Kalila acknowledged her with her eyes. The Florences were among her father’s most ardent supporters, as were the Torres, Garcias, and the Coles. But together their support was coming up light, and Kalila knew that if even two more Houses declared in favor of the motion, it would mean the Assembly had decided to revoke her father’s legal claim to the throne.

  Calvin, where are you?

  “Mister Ortiz?”

  “Nay.”

  “Mister Ortiz and the Ortiz House vote Nay. Lady Warren?”

  “Aye,” said Lady Warren. That mean just one more remained… one more vote and she’d lose everything. Kalila knew she had to do something. And quickly. The Martel House was next and it wasn’t a secret how Caerwyn would vote.

  “Lady Warren and the Warren House vote Aye,” said Representative Tate. “Mister Mart—”

  Kalila did not let the Representative finish. Instead she stood up and spoke forcefully into her microphone. “I object.”

  A hush fell over the room and Representative Tate looked at her strangely, they all did. What was the princess doing? She was all out of order. And yet their curiosity seemed to get the better of them. Kalila cleared her throat and spoke.

  “Honorable Members of the Assembly,” she said, “I object to Mister Martel being allowed to cast his vote, as well as several of his fellows, on the grounds that he is part of an intergalactic conspiracy. I hereby formally accuse him of sedition, and for taking part in a plot to overthrow the king.”

  The gathered mass of politicians reacted with shock. Gasps, shouts, and conversation filled the chamber and Representative Tate had to call the Assembly Floor to order six times before the chamber quieted.

  “Princess, those are bold accusations,” said Representative Tate.

  “I stand by them.”

  “And Mister Martel, how do you respond to these accusations?”

  Caerwyn strode to the center of the Assembly Floor and looked up at everyone. He didn’t so much as give Kalila a sidewise glance. “My brothers and sisters of the Assembly, it is clear what is going on. This is a desperate, late-game strategy by the Princess to try to stop the legal process that is currently happening. She wishes for her father to retain his crown. And is clearly willing to do so by any means. Including filling this sacred chamber with lies and false accusations. But they are empty and without merit, and I invite the Princess to please put forth any evidence she has. I am willing to hear it. Let us all hear it. Let the whole Empire hear it. For there is nothing she can say or do to twist her foul lie into the truth.” He finally looked at her. Looked at her with those big round eyes of his, challenging her. Daring her to do her worst. Kalila felt hate pour through her, but she did not show anything.

  “The Executor is on his way here now,” she said. “He will arrive shortly with all the evidence you need.” She prayed that was true. “And how long would you have us wait for him, You Grace?” asked Caerwyn. “Hours? Days? Decades? We cannot allow these accusations to hold our Assembly hostage. We must allow the legal process to continue. And in the spirit of such, Lady Tate, I cast my vote in the affirmative. House Martel votes Aye.”

  “You are not fit to cast that vote,” said Kalila. She looked from him to the committee sitting on the raised platform. “You cannot count that vote. Not yet.”

  Representative Tate frowned.

  “Need I remind the princess,” said Caerwyn. “That the burden of proof is on her—the accuser—to prove my guilt, not on me to prove my innocence. Until she does, I remain in good standing with this body. And I will cast my vote.”

  “Mister Martel has the right of it,” said Representative Tate.

  “Please…” said Kalila, her eyes pleading with Representative Tate. “Just a few more minutes. He’ll come. And the evidence will be here.”

  Representative Tate regarded her silently for a moment. Then she conferred with the other members of the committee. Eventually she said, “we will grant you ten minutes to substantiate your accusations. After that the voting process will resume.”

  “Thank you, honored Representatives,” said Kalila. She returned to her seat and sent Calvin a frantic message.

  Where are you? Are you coming?

  A few seconds later his reply came.

  No.

  There was no explanation. Kalila felt her mind reel and she tried to understand what it meant, considering all the possibilities. Perhaps Calvin’s lead on where the conspirators were hiding had proven a dead end. Or perhaps his forces had been beaten back. She didn’t let herself think that Calvin had been bought off, or had decided not to cooperate with her, and betray her. No, there must be a better explanation.
Whatever the case, the outcome was clear. She could not stop the vote. There was no longer any hope.

  She stood up from her seat on the small dais and left the Assembly Floor. No one stopped her. Undoubtedly they all thought she was going to gather her evidence. But sadly that wasn’t so. She knew that she couldn’t stop the vote, and in mere moments the Assembly would declare that Hisato Akira was no longer the king. Her family would have their powers and privileges stripped, and the various officers of their administration—including the Office of the Executor—would be dissolved. When that happened, it would not be safe for her here. It wouldn’t be safe for anyone connected to her or the Akira name.

  Her guards met her as she emerged from the chamber; together they walked briskly for the cars. One look from her and her top-ranking escorts knew what was happening.

  She’d planned for this contingency. Made certain to arrange a way off the planet. But she’d hoped desperately that it wouldn’t come to this. As her motorcade sped off to the private hangar, she stared out the window and watched the Assembly Hall shrink away into the distance. She realized it might be the last time she ever saw it.

  She wondered if her father would accept the judgment of the Assembly lying down, or if he would fight to keep his powers. Whatever happened next… it wasn’t going to be good—for her or the Empire.

  ***

  “Where did you tell him to go?” asked Calvin. “Can you get us off the planet?” He looked at Nikolai urgently, who scratched his head. Also in the car was Rafael, but he was busy exchanging the bandage under his eye patch for a fresh one.

  “There is one way,” said Nikolai. “And yes, I told the driver to take us there. But it might not be safe.”

  “Anything is safer than staying here,” said Calvin. When he’d failed to capture the Phoenix Ring leaders—and had subsequently lost contact with Kalila—he assumed the worst. The king would lose the throne and then everybody connected with the Akira name, including Calvin, would lose all of their authority. And probably be taken prisoner by the new regime under some kind of trumped up charges.

  When he’d come to this realization, he’d sent away the special forces teams that’d been under his command—knowing they would be ordered to bring him into custody if he kept them around, and probably sooner than later, and he fled, along with his strongest supporters.

  The Alpha Team leader had given Calvin a knowing glance when Calvin ordered them away, and, though it might have been his imagination, he could have sworn the man had whispered to him in passing, “we’ll give you a head start.”

  “This car has got to be able to go faster,” said Rafael. He finished with the new bandage and covered it with his eye patch.

  “I agree,” said Calvin, looking out the window. For such a large vehicle it was careening through the streets of Riverport District at a rapid pace, but Calvin worried it wasn’t fast enough. They all did. Fortunately the streets were still clear from Calvin’s earlier order to have the police empty them.

  Nikolai moved out of his seat and knocked on the privacy wall that separated them from the driver. It rolled down a crack and he shouted, “Faster! If we don’t reach Riverwater Hangar we’re all dead. And if we’re dead, you’re dead too.”

  The car accelerated.

  By the time sirens could be heard and military and local police started to fill the streets with their presence, Calvin’s vehicle screeched to a stop. He, Rafael, and Nikolai scrambled out the vehicle and sprinted toward the hangar. The driver sped away.

  Riverwater Hangar wasn’t like any sort of hangar Calvin had ever seen. It was right in the middle of an urban, industrial district and didn’t look like the kind of place a gunship could launch from. However, with a powerful screech, the roof of the building slowly opened. Folding back large, powerful, mechanized doors and opening the structure to the sky. Just as they were reaching the entrance Calvin heard the roar of an engine and watched as a shuttle appeared, poking its nose out from where it’d been hidden in the industrial building. It took to the sky quickly, followed by another.

  “Hurry up, let’s move,” said Nikolai. He led them through the entrance and out onto the open flight deck. There were soldiers scrambling to take defensive positions and others—in Imperial uniforms—converging on them. Ordering them to stand down. Nikolai, Calvin, and Rafael ignored them and ran for the only remaining ships. A nearly-filled shuttle that was about to depart and a lone multirole atmosphere-capable starfighter.

  “Nikolai, you and Rafael take the shuttle,” said Calvin. “I’ll take the fighter.”

  “There’s only room for one more in the shuttle,” someone yelled at them from ahead. Trying to wave them off. He held up a single finger, trying to indicate that not all of them could board.

  “You go aboard the shuttle,” said Nikolai, looking directly at Calvin. “We’ll stay here.”

  “No,” said Calvin. “It’s okay, I’m a pilot. I can make that bird fly. And there’s room for two; Rafael, you can take copilot.”

  “Works for me,” he said, continuing to sprint.

  “Power down the shuttle. I repeat, power down the shuttle,” said a voice over a bullhorn. The shuttle—which was undoubtedly full of members of the Akira family and their closest supporters—responded by firing up its launch sequence. Nikolai gave Calvin a look of hesitation and then did as he was told, running for the shuttle like his life depended on it. And, in actuality, it probably did. He made it in the nick of time. Barely managing to come aboard as the shuttle began to fire its thrusters. Several of the soldiers, who were quickly capturing the building, opened fire on the shuttle with small arms. But to no useful effect.

  Calvin reached the fighter and started climbing up the ladder to open the cockpit.

  “Don’t move,” someone yelled up at him from below. He glanced down to see a soldier pointing a rifle up at him. “Now place your hands on your head.”

  “Stand down, soldier,” Calvin said, summoning his most commanding voice.

  “You are under arrest, sir,” said the soldier. “Now place your hands on your head and slowly climb down.

  “I’m the Executor,” said Calvin. “You will stand down.”

  “There is no Executor anymore,” replied the soldier. “New orders just came in.” He waved his weapon, drawing attention to the fierce rifle, and continued. “This is your final warning,” he said. “Hands on your head and climb down now.”

  “I can’t climb down while my hands are on my head,” said Calvin.

  There was a gunshot and Calvin winced automatically. He opened his eyes expecting to see his own blood, even though he’d felt nothing. When he did look there was indeed plenty of blood, but none of it his. The soldier slumped to his knees and collapsed to his side. His face just above the cheekbone was completely destroyed.

  Rafael stood there, smoking pistol in his good hand. He’d managed to subtly draw his weapon and fire when the soldier was focused on Calvin. Calvin was almost too stunned to move.

  “Hurry up and get that cockpit open,” said Rafael.

  “Right,” said Calvin, shaking himself free of his momentary stupor. There were more soldiers now, flooding the flight deck with a sea of camouflage. The soldiers in black who’d tried to cover the Akiran retreat had all fled or been killed. There wasn’t one to be seen still fighting the Imperial troops.

  Calvin scrambled into the front seat of the cockpit and began prepping the fighter for launch. Rafael climbed into the back seat and, once his head was clear, he sealed the cockpit. The soldiers on the ground opened fire at the starfighter but even their biggest weapons—fifty caliber—didn’t punch through the ship’s armor.

  “Now it’s time to see what this pretty lady can do,” said Calvin. He fired the thrusters.

  ***

  Kalila sat at the center of the shuttle’s cockpit. Her pilots flew the ship but she was in charge. As the shuttle cleared the outer atmosphere and broke free from the planet, plunging them into the black ocean of space,
she could make out several lights glowing in the distance. Ships in battle formation.

  “We are being hailed by the ISS Andromeda,” said Glenn Hayes, the shuttle’s main pilot.

  “On speakers,” said Kalila.

  “ISS Andromeda to all approaching vessels, power down your engines and prepare to be boarded. Refuse and be fired upon.” The message terminated.

  “What do we do?” asked Glenn Hayes. He was a civilian pilot. No doubt he wasn’t used to defying orders from a warship, especially one so fierce as the Andromeda. But the Andromeda’s terms were unacceptable. Kalila would rather die than be taken. Especially since, if she was taken, she’d almost certainly die anyway. And not half so swiftly or painlessly.

  “Stay the course,” she said. Her voice firm. “And tell the other ships to do the same.” Her shuttle led a small convoy of civilian craft fleeing the planet. All of the ships carried members of the Akira family and their sympathizers. “And tell the Black Swan to double its pace.”

  “Yes, Princess.”

  She knew she could still count on the loyalty of Captain Adiger. The Black Swan was a decent match for the Andromeda in terms of sheer strength, and the King’s own dreadnought—the ISS Victory—the mightiest ship in the galaxy—was at port nearby, and doubtless still loyal to the Akira House. Unfortunately there were dozens, even hundreds of other ships in Capital System, including warships of all sizes. And Kalila could not be sure which of them were still loyal, and which would fire on her and her allies. She trusted none of them.

  “Make for the Black Swan,” she’d ordered her shuttle and convoy. “Dock with that ship. No nearer ship can be trusted.”

  “Princess, there is a starfighter emerging from the planet. It has matched course with us and is accelerating to intercept,” said Margaret Hatch, the co-pilot.

  “One of ours?” she asked. Wondering if her shuttle could reach the Black Swan’s firing range before the fighter was upon them.