“So, I take it you want me to continue to track the Nighthawk as best as I can, then?”
“If you’re able.”
“They may have gotten too far ahead; we might find no useful alteredspace jump signature in the region by the time we arrive. Even if we do, the Nighthawk might have stealthed. On top of that, the Nighthawk is faster than the Arcane Storm, so I might be unable to get you any useful intelligence.”
“I’m aware of that,” said Raidan. “But I’d sleep easier knowing you’re out there and on the trail as best you can be.”
“Very well. We shall continue the pursuit.”
“Thank you.”
“You seem genuinely worried,” said Tristan. “You don’t actually think something has gone wrong, do you? Surely Summers and her crew haven’t retaken the ship or anything.”
“Calvin managed to do it.”
“With Pellew, not against him,” said Tristan. It was a healthy reminder.
“Honestly, no, I'm not worried Summers or any of the crew have retaken control of the Nighthawk from Pellew,” said Raidan. “But there are any number of things which could have gone wrong: the weapon may have been mishandled and detonated, the Enclave may have intercepted the Nighthawk and boarded it. We both know they could defeat Pellew and his soldiers and that they have a penchant for having intel they shouldn’t have. Not to mention Pellew may have double crossed me. Perhaps he found a buyer of his own that would pay him even more.”
“That last one sounds far more like Zander than Pellew; it just comes across as paranoid,” said Tristan. “And as for the first two, I’m sure they are treating the missile gingerly, and the Enclave; come on. Yes, they're dangerous. And yes, those bastards are evil, vile, and hellish, and could easily take the ship. But they’d have to find the damn thing, and the Nighthawk is sneaky as hell, even without its stealth active! Besides, the Enclave would have to know the Nighthawk had the missing missile, and the only person who could have told them that is space dust! You said it yourself: Zander is dead.”
“Or so Pellew told me,” said Raidan, now wondering if somehow Pellew could have struck a deal with the Enclave. No; now I’m just being ridiculous, he thought.
“Take it from me, Raidan,” said Tristan. “You’re being paranoid.”
“Good,” said Raidan. “If I’m not at least a bit paranoid in this game, then I might as well write my epitaph. My paranoia is my edge.”
“Some paranoia, yes. Not so much that you drive yourself mad, though. After all, you’ve got to trust somebody.”
Raidan knew he was right. Still, he’d feel a lot better if he heard from Jason Pellew. And better still once he had the weapon in his hands. Then he’d just have to keep it secret from Mira Pellew long enough until he could deal with her.
Raidan briefly wondered if somehow the two of them could be working together. An evil duo of brother and sister, both playing Raidan from separate angles. Impossible, thought Raidan. Or at least, improbable; highly improbable. Considering his primary request…
There was the sound of a click, his sealed door unlocking. “I have to go,” said Raidan, terminating the transmission an instant before Mira Pellew herself entered his office. In the distance, the chief engineer could be seen walking away.
“That door was locked for a reason,” said Raidan, making a mental note never to trust the chief engineer again. Clearly, he was one of hers, now. Perhaps he had been all along.
“No one has seen you for hours,” said Mira as she stepped closer, then took the seat opposite him. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.” All that stood between them was his cedar desk. He could easy climb over it and go for her throat. No one could stop him…Not in time, anyway.
“Well, I assure you, I’m quite all right,” he said. “You can stop having engineers break electronically sealed doors to check on me.”
Mira smiled. “Whatever you say, Captain. But I think we both know you left me very little choice.”
“And why is that?”
“I think it’s pretty obvious; you’re avoiding me.”
“And why, I wonder, might that be?” asked Raidan, as he poured himself a shot of whiskey.
He’d just raised his glass to his lips when she said, “Drink up,” her tone was taunting. “Drink deep.”
He lowered the glass and set it on the desk. “Do you mind telling me just what the hell you want, Mira?” He looked her squarely in the eyes. He would not be intimidated by the likes of her, even if he did know precisely how dangerous she truly was. He highly doubted she could have, or would have poisoned his whiskey. She just liked to give the appearance of control…to imply greater power than she actually had, or to exaggerate her reach, especially around Raidan.
Well, he would have none of it. He decided to pick up the glass after all to show her he didn't believe her, to call her bluff. He downed it before her eyes and poured a second shot. Mira smiled as he knew she would. But that didn’t matter; he was still too useful to her to poison, just as she remained too useful to him. For now…
“Bravo,” she said, after he’d finished the drink. “So, you are a man with some backbone still after all.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“I think we both know why I’m here: action. It needs to happen, and it ought to happen now,” her eyes widened as she spoke and, in the lights, she seemed almost mental.
“Drastic measures are only called for in drastic times,” he said, downing the second shot. “To play a trump card too early is to be shortsighted. You don’t win the hand only to lose the game.”
“You and your metaphors,” she said, annoyed. “It doesn’t matter what metaphor you use, the fact is you have a chance to act, we have a chance to act, and we’re not doing it. We’re sitting here, waiting, watching as the civil war rages on. As the Rahajiim are out there scheming. And who knows how many other enemies we have? Yet you would have us continue to sit here. Why is that?” she eyed him suspiciously, probing him. As if knowing he had an ace up his sleeve he hadn’t told her about which, in fact, he did in the form of the isotome missile.
Raidan kept his best poker face and met her gaze. If she was going to uncover his secret, which in time she inevitably would if no one stopped her, it wouldn’t be by reading his facial cues and interpreting his body language; that much Raidan was certain of.
“It’s all about timing,” he said. “All things in their proper order, in their proper time. Not before.”
“What happened to you?” she asked. “You used to be a man of action. The old Raidan, the one who destroyed those damn Rotham freighters because he heard they had class one cargo, that Raidan wouldn’t be sitting here drinking himself stupid. That Raidan would act. Now.”
“I’m the same man,” he said calmly. “However, one never uses the solution of force when the option of diplomacy remains on the table. Use of force creates opportunities for errors. People slip up, make mistakes. I don’t want to risk that. Not until I absolutely have to.”
“Dammit, Raidan, at least summon the Forum. You know it’s long overdue!”
He gave her a long, hard look before replying, coolly as ice, “Not. Yet.”
Mira looked back at him and then, to his surprise, smiled. “As you wish, Captain,” she said, in her sweetest, most obedient tone. Then she left.
Dangerous bitch…he thought, pouring himself a third shot. He had to be careful with that one, had to remain vigilant. Above all, she could not be allowed to gain knowledge of the isotome weapon. Such a weapon in her hands would be almost as dangerous as one in the hands of the Rahajiim.
Chapter 17
They stood together, each with their arms in shackles in front of them. They wore their normal clothes; the Rotham had no suitable prison garb for them. Clustered together, near the main hatch, they waited. Out the small windows that lined the wall, stars could be seen, apparently in motion, as the destroyer itself moved, maneuvering them deep inside the heart of the Rahajiim fleet.
<
br /> “How are they going to be sure we dock with the supercruiser and not some other ship?” asked Calvin to Alex.
“We will pass the supercruiser and, when we do, we’ll have engine trouble, necessitating that we dock with the nearest starship. Because we have valuable prisoners, the supercruiser will happily accept us,” said Alex.
“That’s the plan, anyway,” said Calvin, thinking a number of things could go wrong with it.
“That’s right.” Alex and the fifteen other Rotham who were with them, each elite Advent soldiers, were clad in the dull grey uniforms of the Rotham Dendari soldiers. Unlike the Teldari, who were considered a respected fighting class among Rotham culture, the Dendari ranks consisted of ex-convicts, the poor, and others who'd been pressed into service. As such, they were looked at disdainfully and tended to be given little notice, aside from ridicule. The Nau had thought this disguise was best for his people on this mission, partly because it was strategically useful to be underestimated, and because it would help the humans, and Rez’nac, to distinguish between friendly and non-friendly Rotham.
Calvin remembered briefing his people on this aspect of the plan. Rain had asked “Which are the good Rotham, again?” and Miles had replied, “There are no good Rotham.” It had elicited a smirk from Calvin then, but now, as he saw Miles, who looked very angry—Calvin worried Miles might, in the heat of passion, fire on their allies. The mission required that he did not. If he did, they’d all be killed.
“Whatever you do,” said Calvin to his teammates, but most particularly to Miles, “keep your cool and follow the plan.”
They acknowledged him.
The ship turned and there was some discussion between the Rotham. “What is it?” asked Calvin, once they’d gone quiet.
“It looks like the ruse worked,” said Alex. “They've ordered us to dock with the supercruiser. The way we’re aiming, it looks like we’re to land in Hangar A, just like we hoped.”
So far so good, thought Calvin, eager to be rid of his shackles. As the view from the small windows was gradually replaced by bright yellow bulkhead, he knew their ship was about to land.
“Rafael, here,” said Calvin. He opened his palm which had been squeezing the data disc Alex had supplied him and handed it to Rafael. “Hide it. When we get to the AIC, you know what to do.”
Rafael nodded, taking the disc.
The ship came to a stop and the hatch before them started to depressurize. Here goes nothing.
***
Rafael marched out of the ship and down the ramp into the vast hangar of the supercruiser, following along with the others. The prisoners were made to exit the destroyer in single file with a Dendari soldier on either side. They were met on the ground by a similarly sized Teldari force, sixteen soldiers instead of the Advent’s fifteen. The lead Dendari officer began to approach the lead Teldari officer. When he’d apparently gotten too close, there was some angry hissing.
“Stay where you are, scum,” said the Teldari officer as best as Rafael could translate it.
The Dendari officer stopped and stood in his place, just like he’d been told. He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a great many comments from the host of Teldari soldiers. Most of it was jeers and mockery. There were many derogatory remarks aimed at the Dendari for simply being Dendari. Fascinating, thought Rafael. Among the Rotham, it was almost like the Dendari were such a subclass they were almost a different, lesser species. Curiously enough, many of the derogatory remarks aimed at the Dendari, who stood and took them in silence with heads bowed, as if ashamed of themselves, compared them to humans. Well, I guess that shows what they think of us, thought Rafael.
Eventually, the Teldari officer called an end to the mocking, and his soldiers quieted down. Then the Teldari officer addressed the Dendari officer. “You bring us gifts, I see,” he said, looking at the prisoners, one at a time. Rafael tried to look as ignorant as the others, even though he understood nearly every word. “The Great Nau is pleased to accept them; you may go.”
The Dendari officer did not move.
“Are you deaf?” asked the Teldari officer. “Or just stupid? I told you to get your filthy feet off this ship and back into your destroyer. The repair will be completed in short order, and then you and your kind may leave.”
The Dendari officer still did not move. This seemed to enrage the Teldari officer.
“Speak, then. Why are you still standing here?” asked the Teldari officer.
“I am ordered not to return,” said the Dendari officer.
“Outrageous, who gives this order?”
“Nau T’orrna.”
“A Nau?” asked the Teldari officer, partly disbelieving and partly seeming afraid to question if it were true.
“What are we to do with you, then?” asked the Teldari officer, after thinking it over. His question was met by murmurs among the Teldari soldiers, who obviously didn’t want any Dendari on their ship. The Teldari officer swiftly silenced his men, then listened to the Dendari officer recite his instructions from Nau T’orrna.
“We are to assist in delivering these prisoners to your detention block,” said the Dendari officer.
“We need no assistance,” said the Teldari officer, insulted.
“It is the Nau’s wish.”
“Fine; what else? Then you return to your ship?”
“No. We are to be left here,” said the Dendari officer. “To be put to whatever use your Great Nau would have of us.”
“He would have you licking the toilets,” said the Teldari officer, looking disgraced to have to have this conversation with such a lowly being.
“If that is what the Great Nau wishes,” said the Dendari officer, deadpan.
“So be it,” said the Teldari officer, much to his obvious chagrin. “Keep our new prisoners in hand and come with us.”
***
The Rotham had silenced their dissonant hissing back and forth, and Rez’nac knew their conversation had ended. Whatever they’d discussed, it had reached a resolution, and by all appearances the plan was working. The group of them was told to advance, still single file, with guards aplenty on either side. They walked toward the exit of the hangar.
As Rez’nac thought back on the exchange he’d just witnessed, he’d found it somewhat illuminating. While he was no expert in the Rotham tongue, and knew it often could sound sharper than it truly was, it had nevertheless seemed these Rotham soldiers had spoken of the others in a way which sounded much less friendly than brothers-in-arms ought to address one another.
It is true what they say of the Rotham, he thought: all that they value is the individual. They have no sense of oneness. It is no surprise that their kind had no Essence to return to; they had clearly not come from any.
They rounded a corner and entered a large corridor. The group of them continued to march in formation; other staff and officers got out of their way. The farther they went, the more certain Rez’nac was that the sign would be given. It must be any moment now.
Rez’nac knew the plan, and he would do his part obediently, just as Calvin had asked of him, even though, as a fallen one, obedience should mean nothing to him anymore, Rez’nac knew. Certainly obedience and honor could avail him nothing now. He was cursed. He was damned. But he refused to accept he’d become a dark one. Not yet. Not fully. And that, he supposed, was why he still clung to his old ways, to the rituals, to giving honor to the Essences, which, he knew, would only reject them. He knew of no other way to be, and wished to be no other way. He'd once been of Khalahar and honored the duties of that coveted Essence. Part of that duty had been obedience when obedience was required. Rez’nac clung to that, even though he knew that, for him, it was nothing but air.
They rounded another corner and entered a large, round room. Here, the three elevator pylons were in plain sight. This must surely be the place, he thought.
Sure enough, the instant they’d arrived, the Dendari officer closed his right hand into a tight fist, the subtle
signal, and then the Dendari rushed the unsuspecting Teldari, virtually pouncing upon them. In a blur of martial strikes, snapped necks, and knife slashes while hands cupped mouths to stifle screams, it was a massacre. The heat of the battle around him overtook him and, without thinking, Rez’nac charged the Teldari officer who was still standing and pulled his shackles around the man’s neck. Then Rez’nac pulled tightly, toward his muscular chest with all the force he could muster, intending to suffocate the Teldari officer by closing his windpipe.
But Rotham bodies are frailer than Polarian bodies, even frailer than humans, and without meaning to, Rez’nac completely decapitated the Teldari officer with his shackles. The head dropped to the floor and rolled to a stop next to the collapsed body.
The Dendari looked at him, their golden eyes wide with surprise; then they rushed to eliminate the mess as fast as they could before more personnel arrived. In all, the battle lasted mere seconds, and the Dendari had successfully managed to eliminate the Teldari without firing a shot or allowing a single scream. Silent and swift, just as the plan had called for.
The Dendari tossed bodies down the garbage chute and did what they could about the mess. Unfortunately, the splatter of blood from the decapitation was a stain they could not eliminate. They spent a few seconds soaking up the blood with their own uniforms, as much of it as they could, until it was a small, dry stain on the floor. Only then did they begin unshackling the prisoners, despite Calvin’s repeated pleas that they unshackle the prisoners first so they could help.
The Dendari came to unshackle Rez’nac last. The soldier who brought the key over and clicked it into the lock seemed nervous and, as soon as Rez’nac was free, the man made sure to scurry away from him. The Dendari themselves were already armed, but they selected for themselves the superior weapons from among the Teldari’s leavings. Then they distributed the remaining weapons to the newly freed prisoners. Rez’nac was handed a large rifle.
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