The Phoenix Darkness

by Richard L. Sanders

  This…this I can use,” he thought. They boarded the central elevator and gave it the command to move up two decks to the Action Information Center. Rez’nac recalled the plan and remembered Calvin’s precise instructions for what to do the instant they got there.

  ***

  The Teldari had been wrong to mock these Dendari; that much was clear! The Advent Elite had proven their skill and, in what could only be described as a massacre, slaughtered the entire Teldari squad in a matter of seconds with hardly a sound. Perfectly coordinated, each soldier went for his predetermined target. It had been one of the most violent displays Calvin had ever seen, yet he'd been impressed by it. Even Rez’nac had gotten the chance to take out a great deal of his fury by getting his shackles around the neck of the last standing Teldari and swiftly decapitating him. Much earlier, Calvin had instructed his people to duck for cover the minute the fighting broke out, and they did. But it had proven entirely unnecessary. He'd never seen a more efficient display of killing in all his life, and he prayed he’d never have to face the Advent Elite in hand-to-hand combat.

  Now they stood in the elevator as it whirred, shooting them upward one deck and then two. It stopped them suddenly and an ominous pause lingered in that moment just before the door would open. Calvin used the tiny relief to steel himself and remind himself exactly what he needed to do. The Advent expected the humans, who now carried arms, Calvin had some kind of energy pistol, to engage in the firefight in the AIC. Calvin had given his team other instructions; they were to stay back as much as possible and, once out of the elevator, dive for cover, letting the Advent do most of the fighting and, more importantly, take most of the casualties. Calvin glanced at Rain and she nodded as if understanding his unspoken question. Yes, she would stay behind Calvin so he could keep her safe.

  The door slid open. Immediately, the Advent Elite began to pour through it. About five made it through before the enemy realized they were under attack. The sound of beam weapons could be heard, and the room ahead lit up, almost blindingly with so many flashes. The elevator now was a deathtrap, so Calvin ordered his people through. One by one they rushed out and dove for cover behind consoles, terminals, stairs, anything they could find. Calvin led Rain out last, and the two of them dove to the left and found some cover behind a communications panel.

  From there, he tried to make sense of the battle, which was difficult now that there were so many flashes firing back and forth, not to mention the smell of various materials melting, as stray shots hit terminals and burned equipment. For their part, as best as Calvin could tell, the Dendari took extra care not to fire at any of the terminals; they needed them to work. The enemy, however, seemed far less protective of their own computers and seemed to have an almost compulsive willingness to fire in nearly random directions, trying to lay down covering fire across the entire room.

  As Calvin peeked out from his cover, he saw one of the Teldari, an enemy, taking aim at someone. Realizing an opportunity, Calvin broke his own rule and opened fire, joining the firefight. This gave away his position and he was forced back into cover two seconds later as a volley of energy beams scorched the comms station he sat behind, ruining it. But, when the shots stopped striking his cover, he peeked out again and saw he’d gotten his man. The Teldari was crumpled on the floor, a small fire burning his clothes.

  He heard orders shouted in Rotham and then the Advent Elite stood, some of them getting cut down the moment they did, but they advanced at a charge, laying down covering fire as best they could until they reached the enemy and could engage the survivors at pointblank range. It was hard for Calvin to tell how many survivors remained, or even if enough Advent Elite had survived the charge to finish the job.

  “I have to go check on it,” Calvin whispered to Rain. She too had a pistol but, from the way she held it, he doubted she was ever going to use it. He also doubted he could convince her to, even to save her own life.

  Rain nodded. “Be careful,” she said.

  “I will,” he promised. “You stay here.”

  With that, he crawled out of cover, remaining prone at first, and then got to his knees and looked around. Things seemed to be under control as far as he could tell. The Advent were quickly finishing off the last few survivors and stamping out fires so the alert wouldn’t go off. Calvin slowly rose to his feet so he could check on his people, hoping to see each and every one of them still breathing. The moment he did, an energy beam fired at him.

  ***

  Summers sat in the command position of the Nighthawk’s Bridge and waited silently. Despite the intensity of recent events, things had finally calmed down to the point where she didn’t know whether she felt more agitated or bored. She hated sitting there, powerless, forced to wait until others finished their jobs.

  The engineers were patching the breach on deck four, and because of that the ship had to be out of stealth, apparently, which added to her anxiety. The medics in the infirmary were still working on Nimoux and Shen, sending any updates through the comm channel—though there had been very few. Shen, it seemed, was almost certain to recover, despite having undergone an experience which should have killed him a hundred times over. As for Nimoux, the outlook kept changing, which drove her mad.

  Her Bridge officers minded their stations, keen to alert her of any change in status. She looked at each of them. Mr. Tully still had the helm, something she wasn’t too happy with, but the man, whatever else he was, had proven a competent pilot. Directly ahead, Cassidy had the Ops post, Summers having dismissed the other officer, and on her left Mr. Donaldson monitored defense. Each of them appeared vigilant, so she forced herself to remain calm. The view from the command chair was considerably less bleak now that she’d had Mr. Donaldson drag Mr. Roy’s corpse off the Bridge and into the CO’s office. She didn’t like having it in there, either, but for the time being didn’t know what to do with it.

  Eventually, once the breach was sufficiently patched and climate had been restored to deck four, they would be able to jump again, though Summers had no ideal destination in mind. The isotome trail had gone cold and now she was left without any meaningful orders. She thought she’d probably move the ship to one of the queen’s core worlds and get a proper repair for the breach on deck four, instead of just relying on an engineer’s workaround. Other than that, though, she was left scratching her head and wondering what she should do. She wished she knew where Calvin was and could go to his aid, provided he was still alive, but she guessed the likeliest thing would be for her ship to be added to the queen’s fleet. Rumors were swirling that the newly crowned King Caerwyn Martel planned to attack Ophiuchus and wrestle it away from Queen Kalila Akira, which would be a devastating loss for her. So, no doubt, the queen was marshaling her forces to defend the system.

  Fighting a civil war against other humans was the last thing Summers wanted to do, and it wasn’t the kind of thing the Nighthawk had been built for. So everything about it just seemed wrong. She supposed she could get in touch with Raidan; no doubt he was up to some kind of scheme. But she threw that notion into the garbage as soon as she’d thought it. Not only could she not trust Raidan, she suspected Raidan had been behind Pellew’s actions to take over the ship. Perhaps Raidan hadn’t actually told Pellew to take over the Nighthawk, but he'd probably hired Pellew to secure the isotome weapon and deliver it to him.

  I should have seen it, thought Summers, angrily. I should have seen it from a mile away.

  “I’ve got something on the scopes,” said Cassidy. “An alteredspace entrance signature is forming. It’s a ship!”

  “Defense, what’s our status?” asked Summers, snapping to attention.

  “Still unable to use stealth, but shields are operable and, other than deck four port side, our armor is mostly intact. All weapons are operable too, and standing by.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Donaldson,” she said, still wondering if she should simply take over the post herself, since the man had no prior military training.

>   “Raise the shields.”

  “Shields raised.”

  “Midshipman Dupont, can we identify the ship?”

  “It’s beginning to descend into normal space; I’ll have a positive ID any second,” said Cassidy. Then, a moment later, “It’s the Arcane Storm, sir.”

  The Arcane Storm; Tristan’s ship, not a friendly sight, but at least not a hostile one either. Now, just what in the galaxy are you here for? she wondered.

  “We are being hailed,” said Mr. Tully. “What shall I do?”

  Summers considered it for a moment. Normally, her instinct would be to immediately answer the hail of another ship, but since she knew it was Tristan on the other end, she spent the better part of a minute trying to talk herself into ignoring their call. Ultimately, though, she capitulated; the protocol to accept another ship’s hail was far too ingrained to resist.

  “On speakers,” she said, deciding whatever Tristan had to say he could say to all of them. Mr. Tully gave her the thumbs up, indicating the mic was active.

  “This is the IWS Nighthawk,” said Summers. “Go ahead.”

  “Ah, so pleasant to hear your magnificent voice again, Commander,” came Tristan’s voice over the speakers. “It does my heart wonders to know you’re all right.”

  I wish I could say the same, she thought. Instead, she said, “what do you want, Tristan? Why are you here?”

  “Now, now, is that any way to greet an old friend?”

  “We’re not friends,” said Summers.

  “You wound me, Commander; you wound me deeply.”

  “You didn’t answer my question,” replied Summers. “What are you doing here?”

  “Why, I’m here to help you, of course,” replied the Lycan. “I can see from here you have a significant hole in your ship on the port side. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to return the Nighthawk to Calvin in such condition…”

  “You’re here to help us?” asked Summers, in a tone which did nothing to hide her skepticism.

  “Why, of course! I have teams of people and resources. Together we could patch that hole far faster and easier than you could alone.”

  While Summers had no doubt that was true, she would never allow Tristan, nor any of his people, to set foot aboard the Nighthawk ever again, under any circumstances.

  “Come on, Tristan, do you honestly think I’m that stupid?” asked Summers. “To believe you just happened to be passing by and noticed our distress in the middle of deep space and now you’re here as some kind of good neighbor to lend a hand?”

  “Not as a good neighbor, as a friend.”

  Summers said nothing.

  “Fine, very well, you caught me, Commander. I'm not really here to help you. Very clever of you to deduce that,” said Tristan. “I am here for the same reason as you: to catch Zander. But, by the looks of the debris about point one kliks back there, it seems I would need a very tiny microscope to find him now, and all his pieces. Did you really have to resort to such violence, Commander? That doesn't sound like you.”

  Summers had had enough of this conversation. “Look,” she said, allowing herself to show a bit of temper, “I’m not going to play your games, Tristan.”

  “Games? What are these games?”

  She ignored him. “If you’re here for the isotome weapons, you’re too late.”

  “Why, because you have them?”

  “No,” she replied immediately. “Because Zander didn’t have them. Not anymore, anyway. By the time we got to him, he only had one.”

  “So now…you have that one?”

  Summers realized he was digging for information. No doubt sent here by Raidan to gather intelligence on the isotome weapons. But then, if Tristan were here on Raidan’s behalf, did that mean Raidan didn’t know about Pellew’s mutiny? If so, then Raidan obviously couldn’t have been behind it. Summers head spun just thinking about it. I really need Calvin back, she thought for the millionth time. Together, they could probably figure this out.

  “No, we do not have the isotome weapon,” she said, deciding that the story of its loss was something Raidan should know. Because, if he was behind Pellew’s actions, then he needed to know it was his fault the weapon was now loose in the galaxy. Though it would be small comfort to Summers, at least Raidan would have to deal with the guilt of that knowledge. And if he wasn’t behind Pellew’s mutiny, then Raidan still ought to know what happened, because maybe he had resources which could help identify and capture the intruder who'd stolen it.

  “What did you do with it?” asked Tristan, his words sounded almost cautious.

  “You want to know what happened, I’ll tell you. After we found Zander and took his ship, Pellew was supposed to destroy the weapon. Instead, he kept it for himself and brought it aboard the Nighthawk. And, for whatever reason, perhaps to hide the evidence, he blasted Zander’s ship into that debris cloud you spotted back there. I wouldn’t allow Pellew to keep such a dangerous weapon and I commanded it be destroyed. He didn’t take too kindly to that and so he and his thugs took command of this vessel. We were about to leave the system, having cleared significant distance from the debris cloud, when an invisible ship latched onto us and carved that nice little hole you see on our portside.”

  “An invisible ship?” asked Tristan, sounding more than a little intrigued.

  “Well, we couldn’t detect it anyway, not until it latched onto us and stopped moving. I’ve heard of ships like that; they’re called Hunter ships. I didn’t think they really existed until now.”

  “Where did you hear of them before?” asked Tristan.

  “That’s beside the point, but I heard about them from two prisoners we caught in the Kynar Asteroid Field, associates of Zander. In any case, what happened next was our ship was boarded, by a single intruder, a human. No one has identified him yet, but he has black hair, pale skin, a narrow face, and apparently very dark eyes,” she thought back to the description Nimoux had given before losing consciousness once more.

  “And surely your soldiers were more than able to handle this one man?” said Tristan.

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” said Summers. “Pellew and all his men, except four, went to confront this intruder. He and all of his men, except the four he left behind, are now dead.”

  “Dead?” Tristan sounded shocked.

  “Yes,” confirmed Summers. “Most of their bodies are floating about on deck four right now, though some have been lost to space. I’m sure if you scan long enough, you’ll find a few.”

  “Dead? By one man? Impossible,” said Tristan.

  “Not only is it possible, it happened,” said Summers.

  “And what became of the isotome missile?”

  “The intruder absconded with it.”

  “He took it, carving his way through Special Forces, and then he and his mysterious Hunter ship just up and vanished. Just like that?” Tristan sounded like he didn’t believe her a bit.

  “That’s what happened,” said Summers. “So you can go back like a good doggie and tell the man holding your leash that if he was behind Pellew’s mutiny, he made a very dangerous mistake. Now one more isotome missile is unaccounted for because of it.”

  Chapter 18

  Calvin felt an intense wave of heat pass by him, just shy of his right ear. The energy blast had come so close to striking him it actually set fire to some of his hair. He dropped to the ground instinctively to get out of the line of fire, and then immediately began beating at his hair with the flat of his right hand. It burned, momentarily, stinging him as he touched the flames, but he smothered it out.

  Damn, that one almost had my name on it, he thought. He raised his pistol and crawled prone to the consoles just in front of him, then got onto his knees. He had a window to pop his head up and survey the scene for a second and then dive back down, but he didn’t take it. Instead, he hesitated when he meant to check his surroundings. The nearness of the energy beam which had just about ended his life was affecting him and he knew it.
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br />   It was a fluke, he told himself. Only a fluke. I have to keep my head in this fight. Metaphorically and physically…

  He was startled to feel a tap on his shoulder. He spun, ready with his weapon, and was surprised to see Rain. She knelt next to him, clearly having crawled here too.

  They spoke at the same time.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Are you all right?”

  In response, he went first. “You should be back in cover. Why did you move?”

  “I came to check on you,” she said. Then she touched his head with both hands and turned it so she could more easily see where the fire had charred his hair. Calvin noted Rain had brought no weapon with her, no doubt she’d left it safe in cover…

  “It’s nothing,” said Calvin. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “It’s not nothing,” she said. “But it’s not bad, I admit. Some minor first degree burns on your scalp, but just in a couple of spots.”

  “Keep your head down,” Calvin insisted, still hearing the noise of violence as energy weapons continued to blast. He forced himself to pop his head up and take a quick peek. He saw one of the last Teldari in plain view, so Calvin decided to aim and fire. He missed. The Teldari took note of him and Calvin ducked. Another heat beam blasted his direction, this time over his head by a good twelve inches.

  “Don’t move,” he whispered to Rain, “and whatever you do, stay down.”

  She nodded.

  Calvin crawled to the left, not wanting to pop up in the same spot twice, and then poked his head out. He aimed his pistol in the direction of where the Teldari soldier had been, only to see his mutilated corpse. Rez’nac was standing there, fully on his feet as if he believed himself beam-proof. He was soaked in blood and had a knife in his hands. It looked small, no doubt taken from one of the fallen Rotham, and Rez’nac looked like he’d personally cut through an army of a thousand Rotham. He was covered head to toe in their blood and, as his chest heaved up and down, breathing heavily, he still managed to stand there looking triumphant as all hell.