The Phoenix Darkness

by Richard L. Sanders

  “Yes,” said Ryker, trying to keep any sound of irritation out of his voice. For all he knew this officer, despite his rank, didn’t know about the CERKO operation, so he was prepared to tell the story from part one if necessary. So long as it resulted in him, and his men, getting the treatment they deserved, that they’d slaved so hard to earn. “We helped you take the planet.”

  The Rotham chortled, it was an unpleasant sound, but one that Ryker understood to be a laugh. “And does it look to you that we needed help taking this ash heap of a planet?” asked the officer, as he turned and pointed. All that could be seen were bombed out ruins and countless Teldari uniforms combing through the debris and searching the few structures which remained. There were no signs of human life in the vicinity.

  “No, I don’t mean like that,” said Ryker. Trying to think of what to say. “You are Rahajiim, yes?”

  The officer’s expression seemed to change from smugly amused to alarmed in half a breath. “How do you know that name?”

  “Because I’m working for you,” he gestured with his head toward his men, “we’re all working for you.”

  The officer barked a command in Rotham, and suddenly Ryker felt arms grip his wrists then, an instant later, relief as the restraints were removed. The Teldari also removed the shackles which had held the three other humans.

  Finally, some respect, thought Ryker.

  “Tell me, then, how it is you work for us, human?” said the officer, folding his arms.

  “It’s like this. We were planted here to stir up rebellion and make the population blame King Hisato Akira for the violence. That way, when his soldiers came, the population would chase them off the planet and then want to join you. You know, become part of your Republic.”

  “King Hisato Akira, you say?” asked the officer.

  “Yes, the king.”

  “King Hisato Akira is dead.”

  This took Ryker completely off guard. At first, he wasn’t sure how to respond. He even doubted the officer was telling him the truth. Is this some sort of test?

  “How is it then your story can be true?” asked the officer.

  “Look around…” said Ryker, still not sure what to think about the news of the king. If he really was dead, then perhaps that was good news. Perhaps it meant Zane had taken the throne just as he’d planned, through his puppet brother, and had executed the old king. But if so, why hadn’t Zane sent anybody to inform Ryker or extract his people? Unless he was trusting these bastards to do it, and they wanted to play games first.

  “Look at what?”

  “The devastation,” said Ryker. “That was from planetary bombardment, mostly. The rest was from fires and mobs and riots we started. It was all part of the plan. Your plans, yours and Zane’s.”

  “Ah, now I understand,” said the officer. “Zane Martel…”

  Thank God, finally, thought Ryker.

  “You work for Zane Martel?”

  “Yes,” said Ryker. “We’re CERKO. We were put here to pave the way for you, sir.”

  “CERKO…” the way the officer said the word, it was clear he knew what it meant, and indeed, some true understanding seemed to show in his eyes.

  “Don’t worry, we’re not like the old CERKO,” Ryker added hastily. “We’re not terrorists, we’re contractors; mercenaries. We took a contract from Zane, one he negotiated with the Rahajiim, and we delivered on it.”

  “I can see that now,” said the officer. Muttering the word “CERKO” once more, under his breath, sounding very intrigued.

  “Tell me, is this all that is left of you, CERKO?” asked the officer. “The four of you?”

  “No,” said Ryker. “At least, I don’t think so. We were part of a larger cell, forty-seven men. I don’t know what became of the others. If they’re alive, they’re probably still in the capital,” he nodded toward the ruins.

  “And how many others?” asked the officer. “Surely forty-seven humans could not have helped us liberate the planet.” He spoke as if he didn’t know the plan, even though he’d clearly recognized the names Zane and CERKO.

  He has to know, thought Ryker. Why is he feigning ignorance? Unless he’s testing our knowledge of the plan, to make certain we are who we say we are.

  “My name is Pierce Ryker,” said Ryker. “I had the overall command of the operation on the surface of the planet. And yes, there were more than forty-seven of us; many more.”

  The officer looked pleased to hear this. “You, the commander? Of all of it?”

  “Yes.”

  Again, it was difficult to tell with the Rotham, but to Ryker the officer looked extremely happy to hear this news. Perhaps there was some reward for finding the commander of CERKO on the planet; it would be just like Zane to offer an additional bounty for Ryker’s safe return. And for the first time since the ships had landed on the planet, Ryker thought the situation finally was making perfect sense.

  “Tell me of the others,” said the officer.

  Yes, he’s obviously testing me, thought Ryker. Now that I’ve claimed to be who I am, I have to prove it. Well, that should be easy enough.

  “There were thirteen thousand of us when we began, split into two-hundred and fifty cells of about fifty men each. Each cell was assigned to a major city, or in a few cases multiple small cities, and everyone had tasks to disrupt, destroy, terrorize, and act as necessary to provoke the populace to rebellion. And to do so with Imperial arms and uniforms, which had been deposited on the planet ahead of time in caches.”

  “Can you identify these cities?” asked the officer.

  “Yes, probably. Most of them,” said Ryker. He’d been heavily involved in Zane’s planning of the operation. Zane had frequently consulted with him about what the CERKO cells were capable of, and Ryker had helped gather intelligence as to which cities on Renora would be most important, and most able, to be overturned. That said, they’d tried to cover nearly three-hundred cities, and Ryker wasn’t sure he could remember every single one of them. “But I would need a reference of some kind to refresh my memory,” he added.

  “Very well,” said the officer. He hissed another set of commands in Rotham and two of his men went inside the cargo hold of the landed freighter. When they returned, they had a soft globe of the planet Renora, complete with its geographic features and dots and names representing all of the important cities. A good seven hundred of them, at least. No doubt most or all of the three hundred were here, so long as Ryker could get himself to remember. They’d also brought a box of pins, and Ryker understood what they wanted him to do. Stick in a pin in every city that had been assigned a CERKO cell.

  Probably still a test of proving my identity, he thought. Since, if they were using this intelligence to go and extract the other cells, they’d have a much easier job of getting that intelligence from Zane Martel directly, and likely they already had. Which was how they could test his knowledge on the subject.

  “I want you to use the pins to identify the cities,” said the officer.

  “I understand.” Ryker took the first pin and stabbed it into the capital, the most obvious one. He reached for another pin and stabbed it into Kroit, then one into Bathe, and continued this process. As he did, the officer had Micah, Tank, and Vulture moved into the cargo ship. No doubt their fates would be decided by how well Ryker handled this test which, to his surprise, he found himself remembering the cities rather easily, so it was likely to end well.

  They’ll be prepped for immediate launch, he told himself, stabbing another pin into another city on the globe. Then, when I’m done here, I’ll join them. They’ll take us to Zane and we’ll finally get our rewards.

  He felt a sense of calmness overcome him, helping him to finally relax, and as he continued poking the globe with pins, only occasionally having to pause for thought, he let his imagination wander to that grand estate he was going to buy for himself. To go from an impoverished scoundrel boy who had to live on scraps to survive, becoming an escaped convict and then an
accomplished mercenary commander, all to finally end up living in the lap of luxury like some kind of pampered lord. It had been quite a story, his life, and one he was eager to enter the second act of.

  He finished stabbing the pins, all two-hundred and ninety-seven of them. Three remained but, after repeatedly insisting to the officer until he was believed, the CERKO cells had never actually covered an entire three hundred cities, only just almost.

  “Yes, very good,” said the officer, inspecting the globe and reading off some of the cities to himself. He handed it to one of the Teldari soldiers and gave him a command in Rotham. Upon hearing it, the soldier seemed to handle the globe with extra care.

  “Now, tell me, what of these caches you spoke of?” asked the officer. “Can you identify where they are? And tell me of what supplies they contain?”

  “I could tell you where they are…” said Ryker. “But that would take a great deal more time and effort to remember. Though I could do it; don’t you worry.” He was reasonably sure this was true. But desperately hoped they didn’t require him to remember all of them to prove who he was. “I can easily answer your second question, though.”

  “Yes? The supplies?”

  “There aren’t any supplies, not anymore. Whatever had been in there was used and looted long ago. There won’t be a single thing in any of those caches by now,” said Ryker. “We’ve been trapped here for a while, and mostly the caches had uniforms and guns anyway. The little bit of food and aid supplies were either distributed to the population under the Rotham banner or else eaten and used a long time ago. It’s all gone for certain.”

  “I see,” said the officer. He nodded, appearing satisfied.

  “So that’s it, then?” asked Ryker.

  “Yes, I don’t see any reason to keep you from your home.”

  Ryker felt a rush of relief and joy pour through him. “And my reward?” he felt bold enough to ask.

  “Yes, of course your reward. You and your people have done us a great service,” the officer said. He took Ryker by the shoulder and led him toward the open cargo bay of the ship. Ryker walked with him eagerly. The Teldari followed, no doubt under orders to act as the officer’s personal bodyguard.

  “I cannot thank you enough, sir,” said Ryker. Finally, to be home. To never eat fish again or berries or mushrooms or to fight the elements to survive again.

  As they entered the ship, the first room appeared to be a large cargo hold, which made sense. It was only partly lit and Ryker’s boots echoed as they clicked against the metal flooring inside what was essentially a large metal chamber, with no décor to speak of. There were several crates still inside the hold, some stacked thirty feet high. As they continued inside the ship, moving between the crates, ostensibly making their way to the hatch where the passengers could ride in comfort, they spoke very little.

  It occurred to Ryker it was strange for the officer to be leading him inside the innards of the ship personally. Was he planning to come along on the journey? Perhaps to collect his reward for finding the CERKO leader of the entire operation?

  As they rounded a corner, maneuvering around yet more crates, the officer subtly distanced himself from Ryker. He heard breathing behind him that seemed louder than before, as if the Teldari soldiers had moved closer, now mere inches behind him. It was odd and it set his instincts on alert. Suddenly, he felt that something was very, very strange, and possibly very wrong.

  His heart began pounding rapidly and he tried to figure out just what had set him off, and whether or not he was in any actual danger. And, if he was, what he could do about it. By now, the officer had stopped following him; Ryker glanced over his shoulder to see the man several meters behind, standing and watching. Is he saying goodbye to me? Wondered Ryker. Or does he expect something?

  They rounded another crate and then clarity struck him like a crashing cylinder.

  Spread out on the ground before him were three human bodies, mutilated. Tank was sprawled on his belly, skull smashed in. Vulture lay on his back in a pool of blood. There were no visible wounds, and Ryker knew immediately he’d been stabbed several times in the back. As for Micah, his corpse was a few feet away. He was the only one that seemed to have managed to put up some kind of resistance. His concealed pistol lay by his side, along with several spent casings, but there was no Rotham corpse nor any sign of Rotham blood. Of all the bodies, his was the most revolting to look upon. He’d been hacked to death and was barely recognizable.

  Betrayed! We’re betrayed! Zane has betrayed us!

  Ryker dove forward, avoiding any chance of being stabbed in the back, and then rolled along the ground until he got to Micah’s pistol, which he picked up and aimed at the nearest Teldari soldier’s face and fired.

  “You treacherous bastards,” he said, as the Teldari soldier dropped to his knees, blood squirting from his eye. Ryker managed to change targets and fire another shot before the Teldari rifles lit up, scorching him with hot flashes of energy. As he swiftly immolated in excruciating pain, he tried to form one final sentence. But couldn’t quite make out the words. “Zane, you fu—”

  Chapter 7

  “Commander, the Duchess has dropped out of alteredspace,” said Nimoux, eyes keen on the scanners.

  “Match course and pursue,” ordered Summers, twisting the command chair to the right to look at the helm.

  “Aye, sir,” said Sarah, adding, a few seconds later, “dropping out of alteredspace in three, two, one…”

  The view filled with stars. Summers looked at the 3D display. It showed nothing but the Nighthawk, and what looked to be another ship far ahead. There was no local star nor any other celestial object to be seen.

  “Where are we?” asked Summers.

  “We appear to be in open space,” said Nimoux. “Approximately one-point-two-five kliks distance from a neutron star, Rana Kentaurus.”

  “Are we in any danger from that neutron star with our shields down?” asked Summers. She wanted to maintain the stealth system awhile longer until she knew exactly what the Duchess was up to, but she wasn’t about to do that if it meant exposing the Nighthawk to danger.

  “Not at present, Commander,” said Nimoux, after performing a quick analysis. “We’re too far away to be affected by the star’s potent magnetic field and, similarly, the pulsar radiation is too dispersed to strike the vessel directly from this distance.”

  “Thank you. Keep an eye on it, Captain,” said Summers.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Lt. Winters, fire up our standard thrusters and commence pursuit of the Duchess, I don’t want to fall behind.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “And, whatever you do, don’t bring us any closer to that neutron star, not without shields.”

  “Understood, Commander.”

  “Captain Nimoux, what have we got on our scopes?” asked Summers.

  “Nothing I can see,” he replied. “Initial scan reveals us and the Duchess. It is moving ahead in a straightforward trajectory, speed of 90,000 MCs per second.”

  “Accelerate to 125,000 MCs per second,” said Summers, “until we’re right behind the Duchess, then match speed.”

  “Still…he’s got to be here for something,” said Nimoux. “Even if we can’t see what. Request permission to perform a deep scan, Commander.”

  “We hardly have time for that,” replied Summers.

  “I meant a deep scan over a very specific region of space, namely along the Duchess’s targeted trajectory. If he’s here for something, I’m willing to bet he’s moving right for it, especially if he doesn’t see us.”

  “Permission granted,” said Summers, realizing this was a good idea and would take far less time than a general deep scan. If they were lucky, they might even be able to see just what had caught the Duchess’s interest. Although, to Summers money, she guessed the Duchess was here to make a rendezvous, probably to transfer its cargo of isotome weapons to a Rahajiim warship likely due any minute. “But keep a sharp eye on our broad
range scopes,” she added. “If another ship is on its way, I’d like to know it before it gets here.”

  “Aye, Commander.”

  Just then, she heard the sound of the elevator opening from behind. Summers didn’t have to turn around to know who’d arrived. By the sound of the footsteps, there were three people…again.

  “What have we got?” asked Pellew, once he’d reached her side. He took the XO’s chair since Captain Nimoux was currently at the Ops station. Summers considered protesting, but decided it’d be a waste of breath. Although Summers had command of the crew and the ship, she did not have direct command over Pellew, or his soldiers, and so there was little point in trying to argue with him to obey her wishes.

  “The Duchess is dead ahead,” said Summers, pointing to the 3D display. “It’s moving, as if on approach, but we can’t see anything else out there.”

  “Could there be a stealthed vessel here besides us?” asked Pellew.

  Summers raised her eyebrows. It is possible? she thought, feeling surprised she hadn’t reached that conclusion herself. If the Rahajiim are here already, and they're stealthed…perhaps they are in one of those Hunter ships the Nighthawk’s former prisoners warned Pellew and me about.

  “Opinion, Mister Pellew,” said Summers. “Based on a ship of that size, do you believe your men can reasonably board and capture her without considerable loss of life or risk?”

  Pellew gave the Duchess a good long look. It was a lot easier to see on the 3D display, now that the Nighthawk had gained on her. “Shouldn’t be a problem,” he said. “If we align the hatch on deck four to their main hatch, we can blow our way in and take them deck for deck. I doubt that ship has many soldiers on it; probably none. They won’t be able to stop us.”

  “Excellent. In that case—”

  “I have it,” interrupted Captain Nimoux. He turned his head, looking sorry about the interruption, but got to the point quickly. “There is a small object, too small to be a ship, about the size of an escape pod. The Duchess is fast homing in on it.”