The Phoenix Darkness

by Richard L. Sanders

  “We can’t allow that,” said Calvin, “we have four humans and a Polarian aboard!” he looked over his shoulder at Rez’nac. The Polarian warrior remained silent and expressionless as he loomed large in the tiny cockpit, but Calvin noted the man looked ready for a fight to the death if it came down to it. Calvin, on the other hand, was not ready to die. His mind raced as he tried to come up with any solution he could think of, meanwhile the blinking light of the destroyer moved ever closer to them on the 3D display.

  “Obviously we can’t allow it,” said Rafael. “But I don’t know if we have much other choice.”

  “Can we jump?” asked Calvin, starting with the obvious first solution, and possibly the only one.

  “We can try to jump,” said Rafael, “but that ship is faster than we are. It can jump deeper and has the capability of forcing us back into normal space.”

  “Only if they chase us…” said Calvin, but even he knew it was unrealistic to expect them not to, especially after performing such a suspicious action as jumping away when they’d been ordered by a military patrol ship to hold position.

  “There is nothing we can do,” said Alex. “This charade is over.” Calvin noted the Rotham didn’t seem quite as upset as he should have, considering the very real likelihood that none of them would live to see tomorrow. Maybe he wants to die…?

  “No, we have to do something,” said Calvin. “We’re not about to just give up and die just like that.”

  “There is no dishonor in death,” said Rez’nac, finally speaking up. “Nor is there any cause for fear. We can ambush them at the hatch, slaughter them as they come aboard, and give them a fight worthy of Khalahar.”

  “No, I think I’d like another option,” said Calvin. “Hiding. Can we hide anywhere they wouldn’t find us…?”

  “Not to interrupt,” said Rafael, “but I have all the intel we gathered collected and ready to send to the queen via kataspace. I just need the order from you.”

  Calvin knew that was what they should do. They’d come here for that purpose, to gather the intel and send it back to the queen so she could mount a defense, and each of them had known the risks when they’d signed onto the mission, including himself. Yet, as he opened his mouth to give the order, he found the words just wouldn’t come out. For as brave and noble as he liked to consider himself to be, he found it surprisingly difficult, even impossible, to give an order he knew would doom him. Even though, by all appearances, he was already doomed.

  “If we send that packet,” said Calvin. “They’ll intercept a copy of it and figure out what we’re up to.”

  “It’s encrypted,” said Rafael.

  “We both know they’ll crack the code, and sooner rather than later,” said Calvin. “They’ll kill us as spies, probably very brutally…”

  “That’s for certain,” said Alex. Again, not as terrified sounding as he should have been. If Calvin didn’t know better, he would almost have suspected Alex wanted them to be found, that he’d told the patrol ship what they were up to. Except that made no sense; Alex was a non-interventionist and a member of Advent, a sworn enemy of the Rahajiim and their belligerent ways, not a supporter. Besides, Rafael had been here to listen to every word Alex could have said over the comm.

  “I’m not ready to give that order,” said Calvin. “Not until we’ve exhausted every possible option.”

  “Sir, with respect,” said Rafael, now turning to look at him. His face was somber and his eye-patch stood as tribute to the sacrifices he'd already personally made for this effort to save the Empire. “This is our duty, this is what we came here to do, and this is the only option remaining to us.”

  “We can send it and then we die on our terms,” said Rez’nac. “And together enter the abyss that is the oblivion for all who lack souls.”

  As his crew spoke so grimly, and Calvin watched the destroyer draw ever nearer, and his mind continued to fail to provide him with a solution, a part of him knew they were right. He should not hesitate to do his duty, or else he may as well rip off his Lt. Commander insignia and throw it away now. He was a member of Intel Wing and had an oath to protect and preserve the Empire, including at the risk of death. “All right,” said Calvin, knowing he had to give the order and then meet his fate. He cleared his throat.

  “We will—” just as the words formed, he thought of Rain, of her smile, and in a flash he felt an overwhelming desire to live, to find the solution in the no-win scenario even if death meant the chance to solve mankind’s greatest mystery. Calvin could not leave now with so much left unfinished. “—hide in the tertiary cargohold,” he said, feeling just as surprised at his words as the others looked.

  “They will find us there,” said Rafael.

  “Not if they don’t want to go in there,” said Calvin.

  “What do you mean?” asked Rafael.

  “Okay, here’s the plan…”

  ***

  “Commander, we have arrived at Izar Ceti,” announced Sarah the instant stars filled the window, replacing the pure blackness. She wore a proper uniform, not her usually cropped version, and Summers was pleased to see that the discipline she’d tried so hard to instill in the crew, a discipline Calvin had wantonly disregarded, was finally taking root.

  “Very good, Lieutenant,” said Summers, sitting in the command position. “Defense, what is the status of our stealth system?”

  “Engaged and operating within expected parameters,” said Mr. Roy. “No lights, no emissions leaks, no energy dissipation, no transponder, all shrouding systems going at full capacity…Sir, we are completely undetectable.”

  “Probably undetectable,” said Nimoux, “by the outpost and starships here, but we shouldn’t rule it out.”

  “Indeed, we shouldn’t,” said Summers in full agreement, remembering Nimoux’s ship, the Desert Eagle, had been able to detect the Nighthawk, as had one or more of the alien ships in Abia. “Ops, given the behavior of the outpost and any ships we can see, is there any indication our presence has been noted.”

  “No indication,” said Shen. “Orbital ships have not changed their orbits, stationary ships remain stationary, docked ships remain docked, and—I’m sorry, Commander, I just can’t do this. Not right now.” To everyone’s surprise, Shen stood up and faced the command position. He glanced fleetingly at Sarah, his expression a mixture of what looked like grief and anger, and then he raised his hands to his head and grimaced, as if reacting to intense pain in his head.

  “Shen, are you all right?” asked Summers, her immediate sense of concern making her forget even her own protocols regarding use of names.

  Shen looked her directly in the eyes, still grimacing, and said slowly, “I don’t know.”

  “Very well, then, you’re dismissed,” said Summers, motioning for him to leave. “Captain Nimoux, are you able to take his station?”

  “Yes, Commander,” said Nimoux. He rose immediately and took Shen’s place and Summers felt glad she’d made Nimoux study the various stations of the Bridge, even if he likely already knew them; a refresher couldn’t have hurt.

  “Mr. Iwate you will report to the infirmary at once,” said Summers. Her eyes were still focused ahead, looking at the ops position, and so Shen, who had already walked past her, was out of sight. He didn’t acknowledge her order and instead all she heard was the sound of the elevator door open and close. I’ll have to check on his condition later and then decide whether or not to discipline him, she thought, then returned focus to the immediate present.

  “Ops, given what we know about Zander and the classification of his ship, is there any indication he is or was here?” said Summers. Thinking there’d damn well better be, since the last they’d heard from the informant working for the queen was that Zander had not left the system.

  “Yes, Commander,” said Nimoux, to Summers’ immediate relief. “This is a very small system with sparse traffic. As such, there’s only one ship on the move. It appears to be clearing a distance to jump for alteredspac
e, and it just so happens to be an old Endelvian cruiser.”

  “Get a fix on it,” ordered Summers.

  “Yes, Commander, already working on it,” said Nimoux.

  “Is there any way to positively ID that ship as Zander’s and not some other ship very similar to it?” asked Summers.

  “Not with perfect accuracy,” said Nimoux. “At least not without more information about Zander’s ship. But we are in Izar Ceti and this ship is the only Endelvian cruiser around. My instincts tell me to trust this is the one.”

  Summers nodded. “I agree.”

  “They are clear to jump and appear to be energizing their alteredspace drive,” said Nimoux.

  “Do we have a fix on them and have we identified their probable jump destination?”

  “Affirmative, to both inquiries,” said Nimoux. “Also, they have jumped into alteredspace.”

  “Ops, feed your information to the helm. Lt. Winters, follow that ship. Defense, keep us stealthed no matter what, unless I say otherwise. If you need more power, then draw it from any available system, including life support if necessary.”

  “Yes, sir,” they each acknowledged.

  “Jump as soon as we’re clear.”

  “Aye, aye,” said Sarah. “Able to jump in ten seconds.”

  “Excellent. Nimoux, whatever happens, don’t lose sight of that ship. It’s time to finally rid the galaxy of those goddamn weapons!”

  ***

  Representative Addison Pandev, like many in the Assembly from what she could gather, felt a divided and confused sense of loyalty over whom to support in the ongoing succession crisis.

  She'd been shocked, like everyone else, when King Hisato Akira had been gruesomely murdered right before her eyes on the Assembly Floor! That horror still fueled her nightmares and its immediate aftermath filled her with a sense of sympathy for Kalila Akira, especially when it was discovered shortly thereafter she’d lost not only her father but the rest of her immediate family that day, each the result of an unrelated and unspeakable tragedy. Such a chain of awful events, all centered around one person who was left standing in the wake of so much terror and tragedy pulled at Addison’s heartstrings and made it difficult to have anything but sympathy and positive feelings toward Kalila. That, combined with the long tradition of the Akiran name being practically synonymous with Imperial patriotism made it nigh impossible for her to harbor ill will toward the former princess, or to support efforts meant to condemn or oppose her.

  But on the other side of the coin, Addison was legally obligated to support the Steward and help elect a new monarch for the Empire. This electoral process had failed repeatedly, hence the creation of Caerwyn Martel’s stewardship over the Empire, but so long as no elected monarch had been duly chosen, through process of law, a power belonging to the Assembly by powers vested within the Imperial Charter, then anyone acting in the capacity of monarch, or claiming to be the monarch, is, necessarily, in open rebellion, according to the laws of the Empire. There had been some debate as to whether or not Hisato Akira was intending to step down as king once his powers had been recalled or if he would try to retain them. But to have retained his powers, and thus implying the legitimate succession by his heirs, would have been to defy the laws of the Imperial Charter itself, and would also constitute an unlawful act.

  And so, by the sheer legal implications of the laws as written, and according to their best current understanding by the Assembly and the courts, Kalila Akira was not the queen of the Empire. She was a renegade warlord who was inciting insurrection across the many worlds of the Empire, leaving any of the original three-hundred and seventy-eight representatives, fewer now, in a confused and conflicted state. Of course, there were some whose allegiances had been made clear early on. Usually these belonged to political factions which either supported the Akira family or the Martel family, and so for them little conflict existed. But for the vast majority of representatives, especially those like Addison, deciding whom to support was a much more difficult equation, particularly when one tried to consider the wishes and best interests of one's constituent planet.

  It had been hell sitting in sessions and watching the nobles, the representatives belonging to the Great Houses, repeatedly fail to elect a new king or queen, while the hundreds of common representatives had been forced to watch, wait, and wonder about the future of the nation. And what security would be left of it, should the succession crisis erupt into war which, unfortunately, had proven to be the case.

  Now, though, with much of the Imperial fleet destroyed or damaged at the battle of the Apollo Yards, with humans slaughtering humans and allied planets aligned against each other, the feeling among the common representatives was one of profound and growing discomfort. Even Addison herself wondered if her position here, as a seated member of the Assembly, ostensibly lending support for the legal side of the argument, that Kalila was no queen, was directly contributing to the violence and the civil war happening abroad. And, since that was almost certainly the case, was holding to such a legal standard worthy of sacrificing so much human blood, especially with the actual threat of aliens abroad, when the Assembly itself continued to fail to elect an official monarch? Meanwhile, Kalila stood firmly in view, commanding fleets and armies, holding the line like a mighty bastion against an ever raging tempest, exactly as one would expect a monarch to do. So while she might not have the legal right to the throne, she had a kind of constructive claim upon it, especially in the absence of any legitimate contenders.

  Or so many of the common representatives were beginning to see it, including Addison herself. She estimated a third of just over three-hundred common representatives who still sat the Assembly were having second thoughts or doubts about the importance of the Assembly’s position in this war. A good hundred strong, maybe more, were of the opposite view, and very loudly and vocally opposed the former princess and feared that to acquiesce and accept her as the monarch would be to create a dangerous precedent whereby a great deal of power, including the right to select and withdraw the monarch, would be transferred away from the Assembly and permanently handed over to the monarchy. Creating, perhaps of legitimate concern, the possibility of reigns of tyrants and others whose powers would no longer be countered by the commanding supervision of the Assembly itself. A fact which had never been historically tested, until now, and whether or not the Assembly held the power in practice or merely in theory was a question being decided by bloodshed and civil war.

  I, for one, will have no part in this Addison had promised herself upon learning of the battle for Apollo. She’d intended to resign her seat and allow someone else to sit on the Assembly for her constituents. But then, as the days went on and Kalila herself reached out to the Empire, the Assembly in particular, and offered to create a new Assembly, a true one, and allow the current representatives to sit in session before her, an actual monarch, rather than as powerless figures before a bloodthirsty steward…it had been hard for Addison to think of reasons to refuse.

  Yes, perhaps Kalila was the tyrant a third of the Assembly deeply feared she was. If Caerwyn Martel was to be believed, any Assembly raised by the alleged queen would be her puppets and have no power, legal or practical, and to go to her would only seem to legitimize her unlawful claim.

  Then again, from where Addison was sitting, watching these events unfold, it seemed Caerwyn, who was a lead contender for election as king, had amassed a great deal of power himself, much more than his station required. And this while Kalila was ever the sympathetic monarch who sought to unite the Empire once more under the banner and colors of her family, like her great-great grandfather before her back when humanity was a number of fledgling independent colonies which stood and fell alone against the vast, organized alien hordes.

  Rumors that Kalila was the spiritual successor to her heroic ancestor had spread among the people. Many rejected the idea, either thinking her a usurper or, at best, a lesser version of her father, who’d been a lesser version of his f
ather, that the Akiran name stood for more than it was worth, and the strength of kings had been watered down with each generation, was not an uncommon view. No question King Hisato Akira had made his share of blunders and shown his questionable leadership prowess during The Great War.

  Then again, had it not been for the Akira family some hundred years ago, there would be no Empire, and probably no humanity. Perhaps the Alliance would have survived in its terrible, thought-policed, freedom-less state, but the glory that was humankind would have been lost to ashes. And so to many, Kalila personified that history, that vision, especially now that she was all that remained of the great Akiran legacy.

  Truthfully, Addison could not say whether it was right to support Kalila in order to stabilize the nation and support a monarch at the risk of upsetting the Imperial Charter, or if it was better to stand behind the steward, as a unified Assembly, and hope to raise a legitimate monarch who would crush any rebellion swiftly and reunite all of humanity under a single, lawful banner. So far at least, the latter was seeming to be more of a legal idealist’s pipe-dream rather than a conceivable reality. For no such lawful monarch existed, the Assembly could not produce one, and even should one arise, it was hard to imagine he or she might garner enough support to easily set aside the increasingly popular self-declared queen.

  No, it was not Kalila who was broken, Addison had finally decided, not many days before, it was the law which had proven imperfect. The situation that had arisen with a slain king, a failure of succession, and the claim by his only living heir to the throne, despite the king’s standing of being posthumously cast into legal doubt, the Imperial Charter and its drafters had not foreseen such an event. And so it was the document itself, the law, without any precedent for such a thing, which was coming up dry and empty and insufficient. The law itself was broken by a failure in its design. Kalila was not broken and her claim to her father’s throne was not broken, especially if many and more of the Imperial star systems recognized her as the heir to the throne.