The Phoenix Darkness

by Richard L. Sanders

  Yes, indeed, thought Calvin, if any one of us could survive. No doubt you mean yourself. He was sorely tempted to argue, to point out to Alex that if he’d really had their best intentions in mind he could have brought it up with Calvin and, if he’d agreed, they could've contacted the Advent together. Not have Alex do it unilaterally, behind Calvin’s back, and feign ignorance when a destroyer takes interest in them from out of nowhere. But Calvin knew such a conversation would only waste his time, so he got right to it.

  “First, tell me truly, are we being recorded in here?” asked Calvin. Expecting every inch of a Rotham ship, especially an Advent one, to be layered in hidden cameras and discreet microphones.

  “No, they cannot see us nor hear us in here,” said Alex. “This is the Nau’s private quarters.”

  This tiny cabin belonged to the highest ranking officer on the ship? thought Calvin. It was barren and devoid of any sense of luxury, including space. Very well, he thought, deciding to trust Alex’s assertion they weren’t being recorded since, ultimately, he had no choice.

  “I need something from you,” whispered Calvin, still not convinced they couldn’t hear him on the other side of the door.

  “What?” asked Alex.

  “I need a data disc, one which can hold a lot of data and can plug into the computer terminals aboard the supercruiser,” he looked Alex directly in the eyes, searching for any indication of insincerity when he replied.

  “I believe I understand,” said Alex, who knew about the human’s mission. They were here to collect intelligence from the Rahajiim and return it to their side of the DMZ. The only way they could do that, both of them knew, would be to mine the data from the supercruiser once they took control of the Action Information Center.

  “And I need it to be physically small,” said Calvin. “Something very discreet; something a prisoner can hide.”

  Alex nodded. “I know of just the thing and yes, I will get it to you before the mission begins.”

  Calvin couldn't tell for certain if Alex was being honest with him, but he doubted the Rotham was lying. If it was a lie, it would become clear to Calvin before the mission began when Alex never delivered him the disc. So, because Alex had added that detail, Calvin trusted him.

  “Is there anything else?” asked Alex.

  “No,” said Calvin. “That’s the only thing.”

  “Then I have a request for you,” said Alex, much to Calvin’s surprise. “I’m sure you have ascertained by now that this mission does not have escape built into it,” he said. Had Calvin not already figured that out, it would have been quite the dangerous reveal, but clearly Alex had worked with Calvin long enough to know he had not been fooled by the Nau’s promise of escape as a reward condition.

  “Yes, I know. This is clearly a suicide mission.”

  “The Advent have often deployed in this manner. To participate in such a mission and sacrifice yourself for the Republic, that is a noble and an honorable thing,” said Alex.

  “You sound almost Polarian when you put it like that.”

  Alex didn’t look pleased by the remark, but he let it slide. “However, I don’t see any reason in dying when there’s some chance for escape. If you can live to fight another day, especially if you achieve your objective on top of it, isn’t that something to respected in itself?”

  Calvin treated it as a rhetorical question.

  “I know you humans and your sense of self preservation,” said Alex. “It rivals that of ours, of most Rotham anyway. I also know you.” His golden eyes seemed to pierce Calvin. “I know you’re cooking something up, some kind of escape plan. I doubt it’s got good chances of success, and I’m sure it’s half-cocked and riskier than Polarian pistol roulette, but I’d take a slim chance over no chance any day, especially when my life is at stake.”

  “You want in?” asked Calvin, almost not believing the Rotham traitor. The man who had sold them up the river to these Advent who, aside from sharing a common enemy with Calvin, had proven themselves to be sadistic and cruel on their own merit.

  “Yes. And I know what you’re thinking,” said Alex. “Why should you allow me to escape with you after I got you into this mess?”

  Calvin said nothing, but it was clear he'd been thinking just that.

  “But I can help you,” said Alex. “Not only does having one more person working for your goal improve your chances, I can be your advocate if the team thinks to terminate you all.”

  “They said we could help with the plan.”

  “They say a lot of things,” said Alex. “And they probably will let you. But, should the slightest thing go wrong, an off-remark by Miles or a bit of unruly resistance from Rez’nac, it could be anything, then you and everyone else will be put to a swift, painful death. Including Rain.” No doubt, he’d added that last part as a way of stating he’d noticed Calvin’s growing affections for the lovely doctor.

  “And if you’re on our side, then you can guarantee that will not happen?” asked Calvin. “I’m a Proxitor,” said Alex. “Not the highest rank around here, but higher than most. And my word will carry weight on this mission. Trust me. And besides, you need me beyond just that.”

  “And why would that be?” asked Calvin, having a hard time imagining it was true.

  “I've been briefed on the decryption codes; I doubt you have,” said Alex. “So if you want to start mining the good data once we get plugged into the computers in the Action Information Center, you’ll want me to decrypt the terminal you use.”

  That much, Calvin supposed, might be true. Unfortunately, he was no computer security expert. If Shen were here, he could ascertain the truth of such a claim. But without him, or anyone else’s advice, Calvin was forced to either take Alex at his word, or disbelieve him.

  “And that’s not all,” said Alex.

  “What now?” Calvin almost couldn’t believe the Rotham could concoct another reason why he should be brought along and spared, be it true or not.

  “I expect your plan involves stealing a ship from one of the hangars. I saw the way your eyes checked for paths leading to each of them,” said Alex, to Calvin’s chagrin. He’d thought he’d been subtle. “Don’t worry, I don’t think anyone else noticed,” said Alex. “And I won’t give away your secret. But understand this, many of those ships require a Rotham handprint along with a standard authorization code before you can open the doors.”

  “Why would you have such a code?” asked Calvin, vaguely recalling he’d heard something about this during flight school. But it had been little more than a footnote and didn’t apply to all Rotham craft, many of which were controlled remotely or were autonomous. “I doubt your Advent friends cracked the codes for the ships in the supercruiser’s hangar and then shared that intel with you.”

  “They didn’t have to,” said Alex. “The handprint is generic, as is the code. It’s not meant to restrict access to Rotham technology from other Rotham; it's to frustrate access to it by Polarians, humans, or anyone else who might capture or otherwise come upon possession of a Rotham ship.”

  “The Wanderer didn’t have anything of the sort.”

  “The Wanderer was a civilian craft, and a bucket of shit besides. This kind of tech applies to military vessels only. And guess what kind of ships will be filling the inside the hangars of that supercruiser?”

  Calvin took his meaning. “Very well,” he said. “You may come along. Just don’t slow us down and or get in the way. Keep a sharp eye out and, whatever you do, keep up. We’re not waiting for you.”

  “Then, it’s agreed,” said Alex, he reached out a hand and held it there. Calvin wasn’t sure what the Rotham was doing at first, and then he realized he wanted to seal this pact with a handshake. A very human thing to do, and no doubt Alex believed if Calvin shook his hand it made it that much likelier Calvin would uphold his end of the bargain.

  Fine, whatever he thought, and he shook Alex’s hand.

  “Now, it is best we return, lest they send someone
to check on my safety,” said Alex.

  “I agree,” said Calvin, but he stopped the Rotham before he could open the door, momentarily startling him. “Wait, one last thing.”

  “Yes?”

  “I don’t doubt the Nau will ask you about the contents of our discussion. I don’t think I have to tell you you’ll need to come up with something convincing for him to believe,” said Calvin.

  “Don’t you worry,” said Alex confidently. “Leave that to me.”

  With that, he opened the door and the two of them returned to the chamber where the three Rotham Military Command officers still sat in their chairs. The soldiers stood at attention in roughly the same positions they’d been in before.

  “Well?” asked the centermost officer, the one Alex referred to as the Nau.

  “Our differences are resolved, I have assuaged the human’s concerns, and he is fully committed to the mission,” said Alex, looking from the Nau to Calvin as if cueing him to speak.

  “Yes,” said Calvin. “Since I would prefer life over death, I say again I am fully committed to the success of this mission and I shall see it through, even at the risk of life or limb. I despise the Rahajiim as much as any of you and, for the chance to strike a serious blow against them, I am happy to do all I can for this effort. Now, I still must convince my teammates to agree to take part, but you have my word I will be able to do so.”

  “Excellent,” said the Nau. “That is very wise of you, human captain. Just be certain to convince your officers quickly. Time is of the essence.”

  “I understand. And in the interest of time and wanting to brief my officers on the details of the plan as I convince them, I request permission to take those blueprints back with me to show them.”

  That way Rafael can read the text and let Calvin know which hangars held which ships, he thought.

  The Nau looked at him shrewdly, squinting his golden eyes for a moment, as if trying to read Calvin’s mind and discover what, if any, ill-intention Calvin might have which could conceivably be executed by allowing him access to the blueprints. Apparently, he could think of none.

  “I’ll allow it,” he said, much to Calvin’s relief.

  ***

  Even though he’d betrayed them, and in the eyes of the humans such was the most unforgivable crime one could commit, Alex had Calvin practically eating out of his hand by the time their meeting had finished. Alex already had been trying to think of a way to get Calvin alone to have such a negotiation, and wondered how to do so without attracting the notice of the other members of Advent, most especially the Nau. So, when Calvin requested to speak with Alex in private, that created the perfect opportunity for Alex to demonstrate to Calvin his continued usefulness and allow him the chance to survive this mission.

  It wasn’t that he was less committed to the cause than these other Advent officers. Indeed, as a full Proxitor of the Advent he'd proven himself repeatedly as one willing to accept risks and endure danger in the service of the greater cause and the Republic overall. But he was also a prudent man and did not see the need to sacrifice himself here, especially when others were willing to do so, and were as capable as him at fulfilling the objective. His choosing to remain behind would only be a further waste of Advent resources and talent.

  No, he needed to survive, if he could, in order to continue the fight against the Rahajiim. To expose the corrupted senators, shut down whatever networks of coercion the Rahajiim had put in place at the highest echelons of Republican government, and to ultimately restore the Republic to its true glory, serving its original purpose. To promote the peace, safety, and wellbeing of her citizens and not to interfere with the affairs of the other species and nations. We were never meant to be a war-machine, thought Alex. Yet recent history had, unquestionably, painted the Rotham military as that of opportunistic military aggressors willing to seize territory in order to expand the Republic and senators willing to condone their unlawful actions. It was despicable, and Alex would be damned if he didn’t help return the Republic’s reputation to its original, noninterventionist purpose. He owed it not only to his people, but to his species. And that purpose was best served, he remained convinced, by his continued survival.

  Calvin and the humans were unlikely to come up with a convincingly probable plan of escape. And Alex knew his likeliest fate was sealed with them in a hopeless firefight, trapped in some corridor of the supercruiser, and probably being shot in the back by one of the humans as retribution for his betrayal, just before the humans themselves are overwhelmed by Teldari. But as he’d told Calvin, he preferred slim chances to none. These particular humans had shown a penchant for turning even overwhelming odds upside down and through some trick, or stroke of luck, managed to survive this far. Why not a little further?

  It wasn’t just the possibility of survival that had led Alex to acquiesce to Calvin’s request he be given a discreet data disc with which he could steal as many of the Rahajiim’s secrets as he possibly could. It was also in the best interests of the Republic, or so Alex believed. Sure, there were things in the supercruiser’s databanks which could be used against the Republic, such as details of the defenses of various Rotham star systems for a start. But the humans, with their ridiculous civil war, were in no position to launch an attack against Rotham space. And the vast majority of the Rahajiim data, at least the data Calvin was likely to target, would be about the group itself, their conspiracies, and likely whatever their attack plan was against the humans. If Calvin escaped with that data and got it into the right hands, it was possible the humans could mount a resistance against the invading Rotham fleet and perhaps force a few Rahajiim commanders and the senators supporting them to think twice about their ambitions inside human space. Certainly stalwart resistance from the humans, if it were possible, would go a long way toward helping the non-interventionist cause.

  On the reverse hand, should the Rahajiim, and the fleet they’d coerced the senate into giving them, successfully campaign inside Imperial space, conquering multiple human worlds, it could only result in the inevitability of ongoing war between the two species and prolong tensions for untold generations to come. Conquest was not the purpose of the Republic, thought Alex. It never has been and it never will be. Conquest is the game of a few profit seeking individuals who stood to enrich themselves with power, money, and prestige at the expense of the people who would bear the cost of the wars, both in blood and treasure.

  And so Alex was more than happy to acquire such a data disc for Calvin’s exploitation. It only helped to serve the right cause.

  Chapter 15

  Cassidy’s announcement had sounded loud and clear, doing Summers proud. By the time it had, Summers and Dr. Andrews had already gotten Nimoux to the infirmary. The instant they arrived, the whole staff pounced upon him with such vigor Summers could barely get out from under the many arms trying to grab him and carry him to the medical bed in the intensive care side of the small facility. Even though she knew her place was at the Bridge, she couldn’t make herself leave and instead watched as they transfused new blood into Nimoux, did an exploratory thoracotomy and discovered the bullet had struck Nimoux’s liver, as Dr. Andrews had feared. Fortunately, it had missed his right lung, although the medics said it had been a narrow miss. At least Nimoux hadn’t died en route to the infirmary drowning in his own blood.

  They worked and they worked fast! It was fascinating to watch, and a bit gruesome, as the men and women in scrubs and masks, with white gloves, now drenched red, rushed about trying to give what aid they could. Certainly all of them would have recognized him, Summers was sure. Nimoux had become a household name after he shut down the slave industry in The Corridor, putting the final nail its coffin through his heroic actions on Korrivan. But these same medics would also likely know Nimoux had been their enemy not long ago, that he’d been hunting after the Nighthawk, wanting to see them all arrested. When Summers had offered Nimoux the XO job, she’d sent around a memorandum to all heads of staff, which
informed them of the change, and that Nimoux was now not only an ally, but a crew member. She didn’t know if these particular medics had read the memorandum, but whether or not they had, they followed Dr. Andrews’ commands with strict obedience. Each and every one of them seemed to diligently fight for Nimoux’s life, as if they were operating on Calvin himself.

  They discovered the bullet had cleanly penetrated the body without splintering, and after suturing the liver and then the entrance and exit wounds, they’d finally gotten the bleeding under control, both internal and external. Now they were trying to restore his blood supply to a healthy amount, provide relief to his heart, and fill him with fluids.

  Dr. Andrews approached Summers and took off his mask. “That’s all we can do for him for now,” he said, peeling off his bloody gloves and dispensing them into a hazard bin. His scrubs were still coated in blood and the green cloth soaked with so much dark red only served to remind Summers how much had stained her own uniform from helping to carry Nimoux down here and, more importantly, how much blood the man had lost.

  “Is it normal for him to still be unconscious?” asked Summers. The fact that Nimoux never regained consciousness during the trip to the infirmary or at any point during the operation alarmed her. She’d read extended periods of unconsciousness, other than sleep, were often associated with a host of serious disorders.

  “I gave him a small sedative once we began the surgery,” said Dr. Andrews. “Not much. I didn’t want to overdo it. He was already deeply unconscious, but I didn’t want him to wake up during the thoracotomy. With any luck, he’ll be waking up any time now.” His words were optimistic, but Summers noted a distinct lack of cheer in Dr. Andrews’s voice.