The Phoenix Darkness

by Richard L. Sanders

  “Those dots out there,” said Ryker, peering through the binoculars and trying to make out what he could. The dust in the air around the city made surveillance even harder. “Are those people?”

  “Not people like you and me people,” said Vulture. “They’re Rotham. I can see Teldari uniforms. I estimate at least two-hundred soldiers exited out of that freighter on the far west side. I’m guessing the others carry the same.”

  So not supplies, then. Not food or aid or anything the planet, and even the remaining CERKO operatives, desperately needed at this point. Instead, the Rotham had finally come, in force, to claim their prize. The scorched, famished planet that had rebelled against the Empire, bled to chase off the king’s troops, and then declared itself a member state of the Rotham Republic.

  “Do you suppose they’re here to protect the people?” asked Vulture. “Now that the humans here have gone Republican?”

  “I doubt it,” said Ryker. If there was anything a Rotham could be counted on for, it was guile. The plan had always called for the Rotham to take Renora. It had been a concession Zane had made for something, God knows what, and Ryker and his people had been the instrument to make certain that happened. Still, it was odd to see the Rotham arrive in such force. And if the many orbital ships he’d spotted during the night were any indication, they might've arrived with tens of millions of troops. Not enough to invade a planet that stood ready to resist, but more than enough to dominate a broken world with an iron fist should that be their objective. “I'll bet they’re here in such force because they want to make sure the citizens of Renora don’t get buyer’s remorse. If the king’s troops could be repelled off the planet, why not the Rotham? Unless the Rotham make a strong statement of their presence. That’s what my money says, anyway.”

  “I still don’t see any humans, or human ships,” said Vulture, quietly irritated. When Ryker and Vulture left the camp to scout ahead, their goal had been to identify a human ship because any humans working alongside the Rotham would no doubt be part of the bargain struck between Zane Martel and the Rahajiim. They would not only know about the CERKO units trapped here, they'd be expecting them. And most importantly, they would have transport off the system for them, along with instructions about how they could most expediently claim their rewards. After all, a contract had been agreed and services rendered; now Zane and his men expected to be paid. No doubt all the CERKO soldiers spread across the globe were feeling the same way, however many were still alive, that is.

  “Keep looking,” said Ryker. A part of him wanted to collect his men and rush forward to greet the newcomers. They’d have their arms raised above their heads, in a symbol of peace, to avoid being mistaken as local resistance and gunned down on sight. Then, upon approach, they would either be recognized or ask to speak with someone in command. No doubt one of the Rotham high officers would be in the loop regarding CERKO’s presence and involvement here, and would be grateful for all the work they’d done. He could put them on a shuttle which would take them to Zane Martel, or wherever their rich reward awaited them, and then Ryker and the rest of his men would never have to fish or forage for food again. It was hard not to imagine lustfully the kind of estate he would buy, how he’d never have to work again unless he wanted to, and how, once he got out of here, based on Zane Martel’s own promises, he’d never want for anything again. The intense feeling of fatigue, the sickness of breathing in dust and ash and living off the wild and camping on soil that was mud and rocks; all of it had driven him desperate. And it took real discipline not to immediately give way to those instincts and make their approach.

  But Ryker held back cautiously, still wanting to scout it out, hoping to spot some humans working alongside the Rotham. Someone he could trust to recognize him and deliver on what was promised. His greatest fear was that this invasion force consisted of low-level soldiers who had not been sufficiently briefed regarding the subtle nuances of how exactly the system had been taken, and they might never have heard of CERKO. Or worse, might read something in their computers about how CERKO was an at large criminal outfit and then instinctively toss Ryker and his men into some kind of terrible Rotham dungeon.

  Remaining on Renora was a dungeon unto itself and, as the days had stretched on, was nearing some point of intolerability all by itself, Ryker knew. He felt and knew his men felt this, especially Micah, who was perhaps the most dangerous. This discomfort coupled with the confusion of not getting further orders, or contact, or extract, and the feeling of not having the rewards for which they’d worked so hard stretched tempers thin. Already there’d been one incident between them which had resulted in Micah giving Tank a black eye, a harbinger that their group’s loyalty was breaking down, since Tank had always been close friends with Micah. Ryker had managed to put a stop to that fracas, but had known then, as he did now, that it was only a matter of time before his group would have to split up or they’d end up killing each other. A lonely slow death in the wilds of Renora choking on fumes, or else a quick violent death at the hands of my own friends…Neither option sounded particularly attractive. And so Ryker knew he would have to use the arrival of new starships, and the Rotham soldiers, somehow, to make an effort to get off the planet.

  But he held back on quick action because it just didn’t feel right. Something was off. There should have been humans there too, just as assuredly as Zane should have made contact with them again. The dead silence, coupled with the arrival of a Rotham invasion fleet, with apparently no delivery of aid for the local populace and seemingly no members of The Phoenix Ring to take part in the operation…Ryker simply couldn’t shake his gut feeling that something had gone horribly wrong, though he couldn’t imagine what.

  “There’s nobody, not from here anyway,” said Vulture. He climbed up to his feet, deactivated the scope on his rifle, then looked Ryker in the eyes. “So, what do we do, Boss?”

  Ryker wished he had an answer. Part of him wanted to travel to the farther side of the city, to get a better sense of what some of the other landed ships were doing and who their occupants were. Part of him hoped the humans were there, and it had been merely bad luck that no humans had landed in the outskirts here. But another part of him fully expected doing so would offer only the same result, and cutting through the ruined capital carried the risk of an unwanted violent encounter with any rebels, disaffected CERKO survivors, or Rotham Teldari they might happen upon. For now, Ryker preferred to keep the safe distance and observe what he could from out here. Unfortunately, after a few hours of this, it seemed Vulture, their best scout, had become convinced that all there was to see had been seen, which left Ryker with the uncomfortable and precarious spot of having too little information to know what was the best and safest course of action for him and his men.

  “Boss?”

  “We go back to camp, discuss it with the others, lay out all our options, and then make a decision.”

  “What decision?” asked Vulture. “Obviously, we have to go down there and take our chances with the Rotham. I mean, what’s the alternative, to stay out here forever and starve to death?”

  Ryker supposed Vulture was right, but his instincts still nagged at him that something had gone awry, and to approach the Teldari represented as much danger as it did possibility of reward. But if it was their only way out of here…

  Back at camp, the decision of what to do next turned out to be divided. Vulture thought it was best, even necessary, for them to march down to the Rahajiim, hands raised, and take their chances. He was convinced to do otherwise would be a slow suicide, and surely the Rahajiim would prove grateful for what they’d done and expeditiously get them in touch with Zane and their reward. Choosing to delay was only deciding to remain miserable when the chance for relief had come right to their door. Still, Vulture at least had the patience to hear arguments to the contrary, even though he fundamentally rejected them.

  Micah, on the other hand, would hear nothing whatsoever to the effect of waiting, delaying, or ult
imately choosing not to approach the Rotham. “They’re men, just like us. They’re part of the plan, just like us. They’re probably even looking for us, so we can get extracted, just like the plan. What the hell are we waiting for?” Micah enjoyed their time in the woods, starving, least of everyone. And his cold but deadly temper shone in his murderous eyes. Whenever Tank or Ryker tried to make a counter point, Micah would either interrupt or turn away, beginning to march down the hill.

  “I’m just saying, maybe it’s smarter to work our way through the city and check out a few more LZ’s before we settle on approaching this one,” said Tank to Micah’s back as the latter continued walking away, having heard enough.

  “You shits can rot here for all I care,” said Micah, not even bothering to look behind him. “I’m going to get the hell out of here. I’m going to claim my reward and go live a life free and clear of you dumbasses. And if the lot of you want to stay here, camping until you starve, or freeze, or kill each other, be my God damn guests.”

  “Micah, wait!” said Ryker, calling after him in a polite but commanding tone, which. Micah ignored. “God dammit, Micah, I order you to stop.”

  Micah continued to walk down the hill, his only acknowledgement of Ryker’s order was to raise both fists and flip a bird with each hand.

  Ryker shook his head. There was a time when such insubordination would have meant drawing his gun and killing Micah on the spot. CERKO might not have the training of a military force, nor the precision, but Ryker’s team had always acted like a military unit. Insubordination was well understood to be unforgivable.

  “You ass,” Tank called after him. If Micah heard, he ignored him.

  “I’m coming too!” shouted Vulture, as he sprinted to catch up with Micah. He turned his head back briefly to say, “I’m sorry,” to Ryker, but kept moving forward at full clip until he’d caught up to Micah.

  As the two were about to disappear out of sight, Micah could be heard saying, “At least one of you doesn’t have shit for brains.”

  Ryker let out an angered sigh, and Tank, whose face was flushed with rage, was quietly cracking the knuckles of one fist in his other hand and shaking his head.

  “Well I suppose they’ve decided it for us, haven’t they?” said Ryker, grabbing his weapon and slinging it over his shoulder.

  “Have they?” asked Tank. “We don’t have to follow them, you know. We could see what happens to them first and then choose whether or not to approach. If they get gunned down, we could still escape.”

  “Escape and go where?” asked Ryker, surprised at how defeated he felt. It wasn’t a bad idea, he knew. In fact it was a very smart idea. But without Vulture and the anti-material rifle’s scope, it would be hard to see what became of their comrades. And besides, whatever their fate would be, Ryker believed strongly they ought to finish it together. He didn’t want this to be a permanent rift dividing their group. They’d been incarcerated together, escaped together, been through hell together, raised a rebellion together, and now, as they faced the choice of hiding and starving or going to possibly, hopefully, collect their long-overdue reward, Ryker felt that it was only right they do it together.

  “I don’t know where,” Tank admitted. “But maybe we could steal one of the ships, if things go south. Or…I don’t know. You’re Ryker, for God’s sake; you’ll come up with something!”

  Ryker was flattered by Tank’s faith in him, but still felt nothing but resigned to the destiny which awaited them, to share it with the other two. He gave Tank a look and said, “Come on,” nodding in the direction of down the hill.

  Tank nodded. “If you think that’s what's best, then so do I.”

  Of all the men in his cell, Ryker was surprised to see it had been Tank who’d proven loyal until the end. At least that was something to be grateful for.

  They had to move quickly down the hill, climbing down rocks when necessary, and stumbling once or twice as their pace proved too fast for balance, but after only a few minutes, they caught up to Micah and Vulture.

  “You’d better not be thinking of talking us out of this,” said Micah, his words, as was so often the case, seemed to carry an icy, deathly tone.

  “No, we’ve decided to do the same as you,” said Ryker. “The way I see it, we got ourselves into this together and ruined the planet together. And now we ought to collect our rewards together.”

  “Wow, I guess that makes us a regular band of brothers,” said Micah sarcastically.

  “Well, I think it’s a good idea,” said Vulture.

  “It’s also the safest thing to do,” said Tank. “If we're going to take our chances. At least together we can have each other’s backs.”

  When they reached the bottom of the mountain, the terrain shifted abruptly from rocky, muddy, and forested to more like a wide open desert. There were no plants between them and the assemblage of landed cargo vessels, nor boulders, nor cover of any kind. Even though they were still kilometers away, Ryker estimated they’d be spotted soon. So he took off his pistol, tossing it to the ground, and then raised his rifle over his head. It wouldn’t be a comfortable way to walk the rest of the distance, but it sure as hell beat getting sniped from long range for looking like an enemy combatant.

  At his cue, the others did the same. Disposing of weapons and gear they did not intend to keep and then raising their most prized rifles above their heads. The four of them continued to march, silently, coughing as dust and ash filled their mouths. In the far distance, the ruins of the city could be seen and parts of it were still burning. The wind was against them, and tiny particles of soot and ash filled the air, somewhat obscuring their view and stinging their eyes the closer they walked. But none of them dared to lower their arms, except to hurriedly cover their mouths and noses with their shirts. At one point Ryker even stopped, removed the tatters of his shirt, and tied it around his face to better filter the air. Then they resumed their push forward.

  At about one and a half kilometers away from the landed freighter fleet, they were spotted. They could tell because two large all-terrain vehicles began speeding their way, each packed with what looked like a dozen Teldari soldiers. Ryker felt a rush of adrenaline, but forced himself to remain calm. He looked at each of his comrades in turn and saw the same feeling of apprehension in all their eyes, except for Micah, who seemed hell-bent on getting to the freighters, and his eyes seemed to threaten to viciously murder anyone who tried to stop him. Knowing his reputation, Ryker knew it wasn’t an idle threat, either.

  When the vehicles reached them, their loud motors grinding and huge tires spinning, spitting up sand and ash in their wake, they pulled up on either side of Ryker’s group and stopped. Ryker signaled his men to stop marching and then kept his hands raised high in the air, despite how tired his arms felt.

  The first command shouted at them was something in Rotham. A coarse, staccato-like clicking that was mostly lost to the wind.

  “Human,” replied Ryker, loudly but politely. “We speak human.”

  By now, the vehicles had begun to offload their soldiers, and before long the four humans were encircled by more than twenty Teldari soldiers, each with weapons trained. More commands were shouted at them, in Rotham, but no one understood them. Even if they could speak the language, it was difficult to decipher the noises over the roaring wind.

  The lead soldier pointed his rifle directly at Ryker, probably ascertaining Ryker was the leader, since he’d been the only one to communicate, and he waved his rifle in a motion universally understood. Drop your weapons.

  Ryker had rather hoped to keep his rifle, it was an expensive firearm which had seen him through a lot of action, but decided it was best not to argue with twenty-something armed Teldari, especially when communication was obviously lacking. So he threw down his rifle at once and then raised his hands back in a gesture of surrender. His men did the same. The Teldari collected the weapons.

  At that point, Ryker and his men were taken forcibly by the Teldari, arms chained
behind their backs, and then shoved, not very gently, onto the floor of one of the all-terrain vehicles. The soldiers climbed in all around them, so Ryker and the others had to endure the bouncy ride back to the landed freighters with sullied Teldari boots mere inches from their faces.

  When Zane hears about this treatment…he thought, promising himself these men would be punished for their lack of respect.

  When the vehicles came to a halt, they were heaved back to their feet and forcefully escorted out and under a makeshift tent, which had been erected at the mouth of one of the cargo ship’s main hatches. The lead Teldari who'd captured them approached a Rotham in a lavender uniform with braided black hair. Finally, someone important, thought Ryker, recognizing the styling as that of Rotham Military Command.

  The two communicated back and forth for what must have been five minutes, trading hideous cacophonous hisses until apparently some understanding had been reached. The Teldari leader bowed and stepped aside. Ryker expected the soldiers holding him and his cohorts prisoner to also step back, possibly even undoing their shackles, but they didn’t. If anything, they stood closer and held firmer, as if they expected Ryker and his men to somehow attack the Military Command officer who approach them. Rotham facial expressions were difficult to read, but this one’s large golden eyes seemed to Ryker to show genuine intrigue, and he could have sworn there was the hint of a smile on the alien’s scaly crimson face.

  “You are not like the usual human rebels we have encountered here,” he said, looking up at Ryker, whose advantage in height didn’t seem to count for much in this discussion. At least the bastard spoke the human language well enough to be understood.

  “That’s because we’re not rebels,” said Ryker. “We’re your allies.”

  “Come again? Allies, you say?” the Rotham officer looked genuinely amused.